#i am just excited to be trying something new

[lizardho]

I was like 11-12 years old when I figured out at a boring-ass church activity that you could put rocks into little plastic spoons and then pelt people who annoyed me with them. I did this for the rest of the activity, and at Sunday dinner the next night was bragging about my victory (cornering the mean kid who picked on my youngest brother and pelting him with rocks). One of my cousins was like “no way, that sounds SO fun! Let’s do that RIGHT NOW!” So we grabbed spoons and went and got pebbles from the back yard and launched them at each other.

The problem was my grandma sold her soul for the world’s most resilient plastic spoons so we could launch those fuckers HARD. I gave out welts like candy on Halloween, and I got them back in kind.

So we resorted to taking cover and giggling until we got whacked, then yelping, then returning fire.

My cousin hid in my grandpa’s little fishing boat. It was a good boat, but simple and honestly underused. We didn’t know the little windows on it, meant to keep the wind out of my grandpa’s face while he drove, were cracking. However, they were definitely cracking. Eventually it became obvious and we realized we had been being dumb.

This was NOT the first time in my life I’d been dumb roughhousing and broken something, and I had developed a reputation in my family as being “suicidally honest” so I was the one to deliver the bad news. My grandpa let out a pretty good chuckle and said it was OK, tousled my hair, and asked my grandma to bring me cake. I am not kidding. I learned later he hated his boat and only bought it for his kids’ sakes, since he thought everyone needed to know how to fish. At the time though I was just bewildered and pleased at my good fortune. FINALLY, at long last, being honest and telling the truth about breaking something expensive was getting me cake. I knew if I kept trying it would eventually serve me, and now so had CAKE. I was pleased as could be.

My dad, on the other hand, was livid. He LOVED that boat. He spent several weeks each summer recovering from breaking ribs in that boat every year for about 7 years prior to this incident. He had great memories and memories that boat. So he told my Grandma NO cake for me AND that I’d be coming by this weekend to fix stuff around the house and pay for the broken window with my babysitting/lawn mowing money.

Obviously I was devastated, but that felt more in-line with the way things normally went when I broke something expensive so I just figured it was OK. My grandpa gave my grandma a look and sadly said “Ok, have her here on Saturday to help me with some yard work.”

That Saturday my dad woke me up at 6:00 sharp and drove me, sleepy and bewildered, to my grandpa’s house. He was mumbling under his breath the whole time but he thought he was teaching me consequences for my actions so he was ultimately OK with it.

We get to my grandpa’s house at 6:15. My grandpa is outside with a ladder hanging Christmas lights. The lawn is freshly mowed, the trees and garden are weeded and well-tended to, the carnations in the front yard look immaculate, and my grandpa has this giddy mischievous look on his face. He tells me he was so excited that I was coming over that he couldn’t sleep, so he did all the yard work himself. He asked me to help him put up Christmas lights and decorate the Christmas tree, which I did, then said that because I was such a good helper I could have some pancakes for breakfast. I was sent home with the slice of cake I had been denied the week before, wrapped to keep it as fresh as possible.

The whole way home my dad looked a little miffed, but told me that he was glad I had been honest and was proud of me for helping grandpa. I know he wanted me to Learn a Lesson™️the cowboy way, like he had as a kid, but didn’t have much room to complain since I’d still been Put To Work.

I think that was a lesson for both of us, although I’m not totally sure what it was supposed to show me. I think it was my grandpa’s way of showing my dad that discipline without tenderness doesn’t count as much. He died last year and I miss him terribly, as does my dad. I hope that my story of victory, drama, punishment, and ultimately a secret second victory is meaningful to someone else out there, but if not it still means a lot to me ❤️

[mayakern]

I honestly don’t know how to write this; I have spent all week attempting to figure out what to say.

Last Monday I was informed by our factory that our merchandiser and direct point of contact with the factory passed away unexpectedly two weeks ago. She was someone who I have spent a great deal of time speaking to ever since we switched factories two years ago. She helped us realize designs for new products, sent us samples of garments extremely quickly and kept track of all our orders. She went to bat for us if something went wrong with our print shop or if I was unhappy with how a garment pattern was interpreted by their team. As their first American client and a brand that focuses on size inclusion, something that is not typical of their other clients, she handled a lot of crazy requests from us without blinking and she was dedicated to ensuring that both us and our customers were happy. We talked nearly every day, and though it was work related she was one of the kindest people I have had the pleasure interacting with daily.

She was beyond dedicated to her work and to working with us. Turkey has an 11-hour time difference from me in California, which means when she was emailing me at 2pm in the afternoon it was 1am there. You can sure bet that I extended her the same courtesy and tried my best to answer her emails at night too, even when I would rather just be sleeping.

It was also clear just how much she loved her job, and now much she loved you guys. She had been silently watching our social media since we first started working with them. She got just as excited as we did on launch days and would often email me unprompted about how she was glad people were leaving such positive comments and reviews. She read your feedback when no one ever asked her to do that or even expected it of her. She did it because she really, really cared.

Even though she was miles away and we never met in person, she was like a coworker to me and the loss of her is like losing someone on our team.

The Maya Kern team, as a whole, has been dealing with a lot lately. I personally just moved (which took far longer than we expected) and Maya and Devin are gearing up to move back to Minneapolis pretty soon. With the loss of our merchandizer, it has taken the wind out of my sails a little bit. I was trying to push through, even though I am exhausted, and carry out the photo shoot for our new products this weekend, but it has become clear that my body just can’t handle it. My arthritis has finally told me to stop moving, so unfortunately, we are going to have to reschedule the shoot for later on.

We are doing everything we can to make sure our next product drop on the 21st still happens. But as of right now, due to this sudden loss, the garments haven’t even shipped from the factory yet and I am not optimistic that they will clear customs and get checked into the fulfillment center in time for the launch. This means the drop is likely going to be pushed back to December 5th and instead of a full photo shoot, we will probably have to settle for taking quick photos of everyone at home, and likely with our phones. 

We work really hard to deliver not just garments we believe in, but also pictures of said garments on bodies that our customers can relate to, and unfortunately I just do not think that is possible this time. As always, we really appreciate your patience and understanding during what has been a very difficult time for us.

Ash

Chief Operations Officer

[jetpackgeneratedcat]

It took literal months, but I finished it!!

Top left: linked universe logo

The jojo's lu logo is sooooo detailed. It is one of the things I love about Jojo's asethetic with linked universe. The detail she adds brings so much life and information about the world of Linked Universe. Great example is all the embroidery on the chain's clothing. Let's you know about civilization, that an item may be magical, etc. It is difficult to keep small details in watercolor, but I think I caught most of the main details in the painting.

Middle left: Soulful legend

This was the fourth of the images I did for the painting, and the first image I really started to get into the painting. I think legend is my favorite to paint because he makes composition so easy. The red tunic adds an easy focal point. I did learn from this that I do not like masking fluid and likely won't use it again. It added to many hard edges that I wasn't intending. Very happy with the sky!

Bottom left: Evening snack

In this image, I liked the idea that wind and sky don't know what Ramen is because their worlds don't have enough space to produce wheat. So sky and wind are super excited about this new food, while legend has no idea why they are so hyped for noodles. I also liked the idea that four found a green pepper in the ramen as a topping and is a hater (this is from a note that jojo left somewhere saying that the chain will eat anything but four in the Manga does not like green peppers, idk where this note is to link it though....). I didn't end up drawing the Ramen noodles as it was just getting too small of a scale for me to be comfortable drawing the thin lines for the noodles in.

Bottom right: Testudo

I am very hyped in the future when we see more collaborative fighting with the chain and them working together effectively. I absolutely love the scene in shifting shadows part 3 where lenged and hyrule work together with the beam and hookshot.

Middle: Legends storage

This is a reference to one of jojo's earliest works where the chain goes to legends storage for him to pick up some gear. I love that scene and I tried to put as many references as I could. The one thing I need to figure out is how I want twilight to look. I can't wrap my head around it. Need to sit down and just try out a bunch of different faces for him. My Pinterest inspo for twilight is all over the place. I want twilight to look different from time because when Malon was trying to guess who was the descendent, she did not consider twilight (she looked at wars and wind (so I typically draw time, wind, and wars looking similar). For my own personal headcannon, twilight and time are very similar in their manner (the way the walk, stand, etc) and personality (their stubbornness (as seen in sunset pt3)) but not necessarily in looks.

Middle right: Boat boys

The first image I did. I like how the water turned out, but I will not be using masking fluid for the same reasons I noted earlier. I did trace the boat (i think this is the reference [L240632 Hornet Class. J. Arthur Dixon Ltd. Beken and Son]). I do regret not doing anything creative with the boat, but I just wanted to get into painting and needed some confidence by working directly from a reference. I also forgot that legend might not be so keen to be on a boat again based on a comment jojo left in 2022 or something. I think she mentioned something in a discord event back then about legend not too willing to be on a boat again. But that doesn't really matter, I put that boy in a boat whether he likes it or not lol.

Top right: Winter storm

Second image I did for this painting. I did trace most of the horse because I do not care to learn horse anatomy (ref. [Winter Save By David Stoecklein]) Favorite part about this is the lighting on the rope from the lantern. I think it turn out well.

Top middle: Heavy armour

Third image I did for the painting and the one I realized I need to spend more time painting people in neutral or back lite lighting. But for my first time I think it is good. I really want to see what jojo does with the armour sets! I like the idea that war's armour is clean and pristine while wild's armour is rusted and beaten from the calamity. In this painting I played with adding pink to the golden armour and I liked it. In the middle picture of the collage (legends storage), you can see i added pink to time's armour.

That's everything! ❤️

[itsrlymine]

BBLs. Signs. Movement. Purge.

Why the fuck are y’all concerned about bbls if y’all aren’t about to get cut into on an operation table? Are you in a surgical room right now because the way I keep hearing “omgg bbl! Bbl!.” I’m like damn is the whole manifestation community tryna be built like Cardi B?? Why am I the last one to know?

Looking for signs or movement is the dumbest thing you could do honestly. You do realize the 3d reflects you right? If you get excited about seeing a “sign”, you don’t really understand what’s going on and you may need a beat down. “Signs preceed results.” No. Signs are signs and results are results. You want to be married but you see a TikTok about somebody getting proposed to? Awe that’s cute but that’s doesn’t mean anything. What you think and how you perceive your outer world is what creates so unless you see yourself in that video getting proposed to, keep scrolling. 

DECIDE THAT WHAT YOU WANT IS NO LONGER SOMETHING YOU WANT BUT SOMETHING YOU ARE EXPERIENCING NOW WTFFFF. 

Signs don’t mean shit. Even if you give them the meaning of  “oh that’s means I have what I want.” Does it?? Or are you trying to self soothe. You either have what you want now or you don’t have It at all. There is no in-between. Caring about birds before lands is ridiculous unless you are Paul Revere and the British are coming. 

Acting like getting crumbs of your manifestation is exciting is disgusting. I’m so serious. Don’t start jumping for joy if your sp texts you when what you really want is to be married. Are you mad? Ofc they are gonna text you, you two (or three) are literally married!!! 

You manifest signs the same way you manifest what you actually want — by noticing it and giving it meaning. Trusting in movement is like trusting in time…. Time is irrelevant and movement is even more. 

Don’t even get me started on purging. You either have what you want or you don’t. There is no reason in any corner of this universe as to why you have to “purge” in order for the new story to take place. What are you getting rid of that requires taking time to dissipate? Manifestation is instant. Change is instant so who exactly are you purging for???? Believing that there is something you need to do or that you need to clear your spirit or work through trauma is what puts you in the space where those things need to occur. Facing childhood trauma is not gonna get you your manifestation. You are just doing that because you what to. Stop adding useless steps to manifesting and just decide you have what you want and know that you do. That’s literally it. 

[azrielwingspan]

THE CYBORG WHO STOLE MY HEART (Bucky X F!reader)

A/N: I know I know, there's another Bucky fanfic that I'm already working on and yet here I am starting a whole new one. Why you ask? Because I'm a dumbass. The idea just popped up into my head and I HAD TO write it down. Hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 1 :

Chapter summary: Bucky and Sam come across a woman who seems to have lost her mind. Literally. Using Bucky’s cyborg brain, they try to figure out who she is.

Chapter warnings: Mild swearing.

You know when you're having a great dream with a hot guy that could only possibly exist in dreams ? The happiness that breathing the same air as him brings you? That's what you were feeling right now.

Eyes as blue as the ocean, veins that were easy to put an IV in and that black shirt phew. Was it possible to drool in dreams? You were going to have a great day once you woke up. That was for sure.

Why was he looking at you like that though? Weren't they supposed to be flirting with you or puckering their lips in your dreams by now? Was this supposed to be a slow burn or enemies to lovers genre dream?

"Why is she staring at me like that?" the hot guy asks the air next to him.

"She's just coming into it, give her a second." it responds back to him.

Wait, what ?

"Are we sure she's alright and not having an absence seizure?" the air voice asks.

"She's alright. Probably in shock." another voice responds.

Shock? From seeing that beautiful man in front of me? Sure.

Okay, focus.

Wait, it's a dream. Why do you need to focus?

Eyes, the colour of piss , come into focus. "Cannn youuu hearrr meee?"

"Why are you speaking like that?" you manage to ask, still trying to figure out if you'd accidentally taken shrooms.

"Not a seizure then." the voice from earlier comments.

Piss eyes looks proud of himself. "I told you, she's in shock."

If this really was a dream, it would have to be the strangest one you have had in a while. What in the actual cockfuck was happening?

"Youu areee in theee hosp-ee-taalll. Weee---" piss eyes sounded like he was having the seizure.

"Stop talking like that." you say, blinking rapidly to clear the dark spots from your eyes. Things were starting to feel more...real. A heaviness settled over your head, every breath seemed to send a slight sliver of pain through your side and your arm felt numb.

Dreams weren't usually ultra-realistic, were they? Only one way to find out now.

"Is she...pinching herself?" hot guy asks, that strange look on his face.

A set of cold hands clamp your hands down.

"HEY." you say, the slight sting of your pinch confirming your doubts.

"Self hurt or mutilation can be a side effect. We need to restrain her for her own safety." Piss eyes speaks rapidly and you hear him muttering to himself.

"I'm not...is this not a dream?" you finally ask leaving the room in pin drop silence.

"I don't think so...unless Wanda is upto something again." air voice sounds a bit unsure himself.

"Wanda?" the name seemed familiar but in this state , you could barely remember your own name.

You try to get up only to be gently pushed back down by piss eyes. "You probably shouldn't be doing that. Bed rest for the next 10 days, I'm afraid." he says not sounding apologetic about it at all.

"What even happened? And---" you're cut off by air voice.

"Where are you? Well, the Avengers compound. Now, don't get too excited and all. We can make you sign a NDA , but we aren't going to because we're hoping you're trustworthy. Stark said you might be...useful. Now, if you're feeling upto it, how the hell did you end up in the middle of a cemetry half dead?"

You blinked once, twice, thrice.

"Who is Stark?"

"Listen, man. She's got to be living under a rock if she doesn't know who Stark is. That guy has been stuffed down everyone's fucking throat." Sam tells Bucky as he takes off he looks at their new visitor.

Bucky doesn't respond and instead stares at Sam with a poker face.

"What's going on in that cyborg brain of yours?" Sam isn't phased by Bucky and his staring anymore. He was however very sure that Bucky would not be bringing home any ladies with that serial killer look.

"What if she's lying?" Bucky finally says, turning to look at the CCTV recording of the room you were in. You were sleeping again, knocked out by the pain killers.

"Lying about not knowing Stark or not being able to remember what happened to her?"

"Both."

"What purpose does that serve her?"

"Well, that's what we're supposed to find out."

“How exactly are you planning on doing that?” Crossing his arms over his chest , Sam raised an eyebrow at his cyborg friend.

“I’ll think about it.” Bucky walked past him, grabbing his jacket on the way. “With my cyborg brain.”

“I understand that you want to get some answers” you said for what seemed like the 100th time, exasperation taking hold of you. “I honestly cannot remember what happened. I’ve thought myself into a headache. I’m sorry, okay?”

Sam looked defeated as he let he shook his head. “It’s been two whole days. Now, I don’t want to seem like a dick and question you in this state but we need some goddamn answers.”

“Too late for that I guess.” you muttered under your breath.

“Huh?”

“She said ‘too late for that I guess.’” The hot guy, Bucky, was his name chimed in.

How the hell did he hear that? As if reading the question on your face, he simply said “Advanced hearing.”

Okkayyyy.

Sam on the other hand was giving you a flat look. You gave him one back.

“I’m feeling much better now. Can I atleast get out of this damn bed?” you scratched near the iv line, wanting to just rip it out. “Piss eyes told me I shouldn’t but I cannot stay like this.”

“Piss eyes?” Sam was clearly running out of patience.

“The doc. Is he even a doctor? He’s very…”

“Sort of.”

That explains it.

“She’s right.” Bucky takes a step forward, looking at Sam. “Walking around will help her recover faster.”

“THANK YOU. See , I knew you were the smart one.” you give him a wide smile to which you get a poker face in return. Embarrassing. Not letting it deter you, you pull the iv out.

“Hey !!” Sam steps forward, surprised at your show of stupidity.

Before he can reach you to help you out of bed, you’ve already stood up. Which was another stupid move considering that the entire room was spinning around. Holding on to the wall next to you for support, you blinked rapidly.

“That’s another concussion waiting to happen.” Bucky commented dryly.

After regaining some semblance of direction, you managed to stand up straight ignoring the slight stab of pain in your chest.

“Much better.” you say, taking a step forward. The pastel pink tee and pants that had been given to you did not compliment your current condition, you knew. To be quite frank, you were a good looking woman too. Always have been. Then why the hell was Bucky looking at you like he was going to stab you right then and there?

“Uhhh…now what?” your suddenly felt extremely awkward in front of the two men.

“Don’t ask me, you were the one who wanted to do this.” Sam still had an arm out, ready to jump into action in case you cracked your head on the tiles again. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Bucky make a slight movement. Thank fuck you did because the next thing you knew , you were holding a dagger 2 inches away from your chest by the handle.

Silence engulfed the room for a good 20 seconds before it was broken by a very calm “What. The. Fuck.” from Sam.

You looked at Bucky who stood in the same spot like nothing shocking had even happened. Finally a crack of a smile appeared on his face.

“Told you she was lying.”

[satoruarchive]

(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) TODAY’S CONTENTS : 16+ / cursing / reader is suspicious!.. / a little bit of angst(?) / fem!reader / reader is scared of bugs / reader is described shorter than satoru / satoru’s kindaaa a bitch / let me know if i missed any warnings <3 ★ ˎˊ˗ series m.list ★ ˎˊ˗ wc : 3.7k (how did we go from 2.5k to..)

“tokyo jujutsu high..” you lean back against your seat in the train as an overwhelming feeling takes over you. this is going to be your new life — as a jujutsu sorcerer. this is what you signed up for, so no take backsies, right? even so, you can’t shake off the lingering feeling within you that tells you today is going to be much more than just a.. ‘long day’

“Excuse me, can you stop your mumbling?” your head snapped towards the sound, a look of embarrassment washing over you, realizing you’ve been talking to yourself like an idiot.

“oh, my apologies.” you force a smile at the old man who had been clearly trying to sleep, silently cursing yourself for choosing the worst possible seat — it doesn’t look like there are any decent ones, now that you look around.

“whew, everyone on this train looks real sketchy..” and you’re back to mumbling to yourself. i can’t even get my head straight right now.. the overburning feelings of excitement and stress cling to your heart. this is a big day for you, isn’t it?

you were told you were the replacement for some.. ‘crazy guy’ who slaughtered an entire village and left the jujutsu society. you wonder how his teammates feel about that — are they mad about what he did? sad that he left? or worse, scared of him even? no — maybe all at once. “sounds like a bunch of bullshit though..” you sub-consciously mutter. i mean, who is crazy enough to kill the people they swore to protect?

you can’t help but stare out of the window, a state of frenzy taking over you. determination flows through your body, you’re ready for this, these are just the few small steps you need to a—

“attention passengers,” a voice echoes through the train “we’ve arrived at tokyo — may all passengers please depart carefully, i repeat, we’ve arrived at-“

a frustrated groan leaves your lips, maybe you did want the train ride to last just a little longer. the boost of confidence you had early had quickly seemed to dissipate into thin air. come on, you’ve got this..

despite the hesitating thoughts, you don’t waste another second without arising from your seat, nearly stumbling onto your belongings. a sheepish apology quickly slips out of your mouth in a desperate attempt to not make any further noise while leaving your seat, lurking behind the stretching line of people exiting the train.

the almost never-ending line slowly becomes smaller and smaller until you’ve finally reached the train gate. as soon as you walk out and enter the train station, you’re greeted with the beautiful scenery of tokyo. it’s your first time experiencing the grace of such a serene place in real time — it’s almost distracting, really, the sound of birds chirping by and people bustling everywhere — hold on, something smells a little..

“hey, i’m here.” a hand waves over your face, causing you to flip around quickly and you’re greeted by the sight of a girl with short brown hair and a cigarette sitting in between her lips — so that’s where the smell is coming from. “oh.” you eye her uniform, easily recognising the jujutsu tech uniform that bared similarities to yours.

“wow, you’re pretty.” you attempt to ignore the smoke hitting your face by throwing in a compliment, miserably failing as you slip out a couple of coughs— ahem. . you clear your throat.

the girl notices your discomfort quickly. “sorry.” she removes the cigarette from her mouth, letting the tip burn and the end falling to the ground.

“no, no, its fine.” you shake your hands, sighing in relief when you finally taste some fresh air. “so, you’re shoko right?” a curious gaze displays your features.

“mhm, i am shoko.” she confirms your statement. “Mr. Yaga sent me to escort you, he rambled quite a bit about you.” shoko briefly glances your way as you subtly nod at her words, gesturing you to follow her. you wonder what Mr. Yaga could have possibly said about you — hopefully good things.

“so you’re replacing suguru, huh?” she says it almost as a fact and not a question. honestly, she is also a little unsure about the replacement like satoru— maybe not as worried as him, but she still expresses a sense of uneasiness — she is suguru’s friend too after all. . or was.

you haven’t even noticed that she’s talking to you, her words entering into one ear and out of the other. you’re inattentively staring straight ahead, mind too occupied with thoughts to notice her voice. your ears are ringing with theories about what could of seemingly caused their friend to do such an insane 360 — or maybe im thinking about it too much, he’s not what im after anyway..

“heeyy? you there?”

“oh, yeah, i am.” your response came off a little delayed. damn it, focus. you shake your head, trying to get rid of the lingering thoughts, it’s not the time to let your head get swayed.

“so. . is smoking even allowed in there?” you ask with a half-hearted snicker, a desperate attempt to save conversation.

“no, but if you don’t get caught then it never happened.” she shrugs. “not much of a smoker, are you?” the teasing glint in her voice makes you a little embarrassed, a nervous smile bracing your lips. “no, not really haha.”

“nothing to be embarrassed about, im just poking you.” her reassurance made you sigh in relief, perhaps this wasn’t going to be as difficult as you assumed it was.

“actually.. i wanted to ask something.” shoko turns her head in your direction, awaiting your question expectantly. there’s an unsure expression on your face, contemplating your words.

“why did your teammate-“ the words are about to roll off your tongue when suddenly a strange noise causes you to choke on your words — ring ring.

well isn’t that just great.

“sorry, gimmie a sec.” shoko looks at you apologetically as she takes her flip-phone out of her pocket. she checks the contact name, satoru. you managed to take a peep in time to see who’s calling.

the name leaves your throat a little dry. satoru gojo — from the gojo family. his existence itself makes curses quiver. a sense of rage boils up within you, hearing the name of the gojo clan itself makes your teeth grit.

your eyes narrow for a moment as you faintly hear his voice on the other side of the phone, words being exchanged. “stop calling, im almost there.” shoko hung up, her attention diverting back to you. she doesn’t miss the scowl on your face. “something wrong?”

“oh, no, nothing.” you snap out of your trance before your kettle could pop, your lips curling upward. “who’s ‘satoru’?” you fake a curious look. play dumb — that’s it.

“you don’t know satoru gojo?” shoko lets out a humorous laugh, faltering a little when she sees the serious look on your face. “he’s from one of the big clans, the strongest sorcerer of our generation, they say.” she simply shrugged. “don’t worry about it, he’s all talk, no bark.” she gives you a reassuring look, not what you would of expected from a gojo clan member — but perhaps you should take her word for it, for now.

theres a strangely comforting silence as you follow behind her, you could feel the air getting chilly and shivers vibrating through your body. shoko doesn’t seem to be affected much by it. maybe i should’ve brought a coat.

“anyways, we’re at the outskirts of tokyo now.” you squint your eyes, seeing a big building a few feet away. “well, you’re officially a sorcerer now. its not as exciting as it sounds, though.” she gives you a teasing look.

“i know that.” you roll your eyes. you both take a few more steps, finally arriving at the gate. behind the gate you spot multiple buildings. you have to stand still and collect your breath for a moment, so this is jujutsu tech.

“woah, it’s huge.” of course you knew a place with sorcerer’s from one of the biggest clans wasn’t going to be any joke, but it’s hard not to be swayed by such a breath-taking place.

“come on, lets go.” she takes your hand and walks through the gate. you closely inspect every sight on your way. wow, this place was pretty. you’re almost jealous of it’s radiance.

you’re taken to a bridge where shoko spots a familiar lean figure slouched against the railing with a sulky pout. the chalk-white hair that fell over his eyes, having to push them back with his long fingers and you almost get a view of the famous six eyes the gojo family is known for — those serene blue eyes that can put you in a daze with a look — wait, are you in a daze?

“not you too..” shoko slams her face causing you to snap out of your daydreams in a panicked oh! “im going to hide your face with a cardboard box one day, i swear.” a nasty side-eye was sent satoru’s way.

you thought him ‘charming people with one look’ (such big talk!) was mere gossip amongst the crowd. i mean, he couldn’t be that beautiful right?

you’ve never been more wrong.

“huuuuuh? so it’s my fault now?” satoru crosses his arms, a pout visible on his face. shoko already knows his ego is already swelling with pride, ‘cause he just can’t control the fact that he’s oh-so beautiful, can he?

“oh. . uh.” you finally realize his tall figure looming over you, taking a few steps back as he sizes you up, those piercing cold eyes were antagonising, anything but friendly. resentment runs through your body — it really is him, satoru gojo.

“this is stupid.” satoru let out a huff, pulling away and crossing his arms. “we don’t need a replac���“ satoru freezes in place when he catches the striking scowl on shoko’s face. “whatever. it’s ‘nice’ to meet you.” how much more pettier could he get?

“wellllll, ahem.” you let out a cough, trying to compose yourself. “my apologies. you’re satoru right?” you ask with a friendly smile on your face, but it’s almost like he can see through it with the way he eyes you. as if his icy orbs were poking right through your skull, did a shiver just run down your spine?

“it’s gojo to you.” a huff escaped his mouth and he turned away, refusing to even look at you, as if he was destined to hate you the exact moment you met — well, at least that’s something you both have in common.

shoko could only smack her forehead with her palm. when suguru joined sorcery, him and satoru didn’t hit it off immediately, it took them a while to get used to eachother’s company and get over their silly rivalry.

yet she has this strange feeling it might not be the same with you.

“ignore him, he’s just been a big whiny bitch about about the idea of a replacement.” shoko places a hand over your shoulder, ignoring the offended look satoru gave her, he was no ‘whiny bitch’ about it.. okay, maybe he was… just a little.

“speaking off..” you finally take your chance. “why’d your old teammate leave?” as soon as the words spilled out of your throat, you quickly notice how a cold tension develops in the air. you take a glance at satoru, oh. he doesn’t look very pleased you brought that up. .

“what’s it to you?” he snickers, tone comes off with an edge of hurt. he can’t say he’s over it, that he moved on, that would be a blatant lie. the reoccuring images of that day play in his head, not a single flaw in the vision of that scene — and it hurts.

you almost feel bad for bringing it up, since it clearly wasn’t the. . ‘right time’. you rub your hands together, its cold. was it always this chilly out here?

“i was just ask—“ “well, it’s none of your damn business.”

you can almost feel his glare, as if it was stabbing daggers right through your mind. teeth clenching, you hate that look, it’s just like them all. just like every other g—

“we’ll talk about it later.” shoko finally says something, you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. “im going to show her around for a bit, satoru. bye.” shoko waved as she quickly pulled you away from the bridge. phew.

“so i definitely killed the mo-“ you’re immediately cut off. “don’t bring that up in front of him, god.” shoko laughs. “it’s a sensitive topic for him.”

shoko looked up for a brief moment, exhaling. “suguru — he was our old teammate. they both were practically inseparable, i’m guessing you know he left and all.” you take in her words, suguru geto, of course you already knew who he was.

“im guessing you also wont tell me why he left.” you laugh, yet a curious gaze still present, hoping to hit the jackpot. “well.” shoko lets out a quiet hum and you’re kept on your toes, anticipating, as if watching a love confession in a movie. come on. .

“why do you wanna know so bad?” ah, shit. you almost let a groan leave your lips, you knew it was never going to be that easy, yet it’s just as frustrating.

“im just a little curious, from the things i heard he did some prettyyy crazy things, y’know?” woah, good save. “i can’t argue with you on that.” shoko laughs bitterly. “ill tell you some other time, though. its your first day here, let me tour you for real.”

you nod at her words, trailing behind her as she leads you to a hallway. you take a good look around — must be the dorms.

“so this is where the dorms are.” you look to the direction shoko points at. “your dorm is the one on the right, next to.. satoru’s.” she gives you an apologetic look. “theres no other rooms with essentials as of now, hope he wont be a big pain in the ass for you.”

you acknowledge her words, slowly moving to the room, paying a lot more attention to satoru’s door than yours — there was nothing special about it, yet you can’t shake the feeling that everything’s going a bit.. too smooth. your dorm being right next to his is like a lottery ticket, it’ll make everything much easier, but it’s almost too good to be true — or maybe you’re just overthinking it.

aside from that, it’s also not the best thing in the world. it’ll be perfect for your mission, and yet one day you might just end up punching that arrogant expression on his face from irritation — a double edged sword, they say.

“you can do whatever you want with the room, you listening?” you turn back to shoko, giving her a half-hearted smile. “oh, yeah, definitely.” shoko gives you a suspicious look. “ill take your word for it.. anyway, Mr. Yaga wants to see us tomorrow for a mission so you can prepare for that.”

“wow, mission already? it’s not a piece of cake, huh?” you joke. “consider yourself lucky, a lot of people have it way worse.” she teases you. “im going to go back to my own room — 303 if you’ve got any questions.” she gives you a pat on the shoulder before heading to the third floor, leaving you with the key to your dorm.

you slowly approach the door, finding yourself inspecting the door carefully as if something might jump out and hurt you, paranoid much.

rest assured, there was nothing set up. (obviously. .) you’re fiddling with your keys, about to open the door—

footsteps. the noise causes your ears to perk up immediately, turning around in a defensive stance to see whoever it is— oh.

“woah.” satoru raises his hand in the air defensively. “you ‘tryna to kill me or something?” redness spreads across your face as you immediately stand up straight. “im not armed, that was just a reflex.” you shoot him a glare. clearly, both of you were still petty about earlier.

“you were reaaaaalll nice with shoko huh?” suddenly he’s leaning in close. too close. is he onto you? is your journey over right here right now? maybe you were stupid for thinking you co- “there’s no mistake about it..” he scratches his chin.

“what?” you clench your fist in annoyance, its like your patience disappears whenever it comes to him.

“you’ve got a bug in your hair, do you even wash it?”

. . . .

“wait, what?” a rush of panic washes over you. “where is it!? wait, gojo!” you look up to him with a pitiful expression, only to be met with a teasing smirk. “ohhh, so you’re scared of bugs.” he’s saying it as if he’s keeping tabs on you or something. . he definitely is.

“i was just playing with you.” he shrugs nonchalantly. “seriously, how are you gonna fight a curse if you’re scared of a ‘lil ole bug?” oh this little tease.

“you’re seriously. asking to be punched, gojo.” you attempt to come off as intimidating as you can. unfortunately for you, you’re dealing with the cockiest man on this planet.

“what happened to ‘yer nice little demeanour huuuh? or does it just not apply t’me?” he’s easily towering over you, you don’t know why he’s so.. adamant to get to you. every word that comes out of his mouth — god, give me patience.

“bold of you to assume you deserve a single ounce of kindness.” ouch. the exasperated look on his face proved he did not take your comment lightly.

“oh yeah? don’t get arrogant just ‘cause you happen to get picked as a replacement.” there’s a strange venom in his words, you can’t tell whether it's targeted towards you. just why did he have to be so hard to read?

“just what are you so mad about, that you have to come bother someone else about it?” you bite back. “oh, yeah, me mad, suuuuureee. as if you didn’t look like you wanted to kill me a few seconds ago.” he retorts right back at you.

this isn’t how it’s supposed to go. you’re supposed to be nice to him and gain his trust — but that lingering anger in your heart is taking over you, the same coldness you loathe feeling — that cold look in his eyes, its just like them all. it’s like your feelings are speaking for you, as if your heart is pouring itself out.

present you would laugh at the fact that just an hour ago, you thought you’d be able to befriend him with ease. like a walk in the park, you’ll shoot him a kind smile just like you did with shoko, compliment his eyes maybe, yet it seems like you were destined to be enemies at first sight.

“and you know what? maybe you should be careful, ‘cause i will.” you shoot back, but satoru’s obviously not taking your threat seriously — ‘what could a wimp like her do to me?’

“oh please.” he grabs the collar of your shirt. “if you want me to be the last thing you see ill make it happen right n-“

“satoru, what are you doing?” a stern voice is heard from behind satoru and he immediately pulls away. you immediately recognise the man as the principle — Masamichi Yaga.

“nothinnggggg.” what a liar, you almost want to rat him out but technically it’s your fault as well. . .

“you’re the new student, aren’t you?” the man approaches you while satoru quietly observes. “yeah-“ your voice comes out in a stutter. “i am..”

“it’s your first day here, and you’re already fighting with that lunatic.” a grumble escaped his lips. his tone held a sense of aloofness, he doesn’t seem like someone who plays around. “don’t let me find this behaviour continuing.”

“but he started it f-“ you don’t even have time to respond and he’s leaving. your first encounter with the principle and its great, wow.

“but sirrrr, but heee..!” satoru mocks you from the side, and you have half a mind to not kick him in the face right there.

“im done arguing with an immature jerk like you.” you declare confidently, knowing you’re just as immature as him. “woooooah, look at miss victim being the bigger person, aren’t you sooo admir-“ by the time he’s done talking, you’ve already slammed the door to your room shut, causing him to flinch a little.

“gee, she’s ‘annoyin alright.” satoru opens the door to his own room with his key. walking inside and flopping onto the bed immediately. the AC is turned on in a beat. satoru can feel his mind relax as the cool air hits his body.

today’s tiring. there’s a lot of new unwanted thoughts swarming his mind, many of them being you.

in fact — ever since he heard about you replacing suguru, he’s been unable to help the hatred that filled his heart. is it hatred? or is he scared? the thought of someone else taking suguru’s place, for some reason, it irks him.

“maaaan, feelings are just as annoying as her.” satoru grumbled, resting his head on his arms. “i swear ‘somethin about her rubs me the wrong way.”

he’s not taking himself too seriously. he’s probably just thinking about it too much because he’s overwhelmed. he’ll take a nap and forget about it soon enough. (if only he followed his ‘divine intuition’.)

you, on the other hand, are quite literally panicking. unable to even lay down on your bed. you’re staring at the wall in disbelief, you’ve made it so far, you can’t afford to mess up now. but that look in his eyes — it brings back too many memories you’ve been wanting to forget.

maybe he was just playing around when you were fighting, but you’ve realised it now. he really can kill you if he wanted to. it makes you doubt yourself — if you even hold a fraction of his power. you knew it was never going to be easy, but it makes you wonder.

“just how will i assassinate gojo satoru?”

(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) TAGLIST : @kuroogguk @ilovelinkk @kr1nqu @creamflix (open!)

★ ˎˊ˗ a/n : first chapter !! uh funfact reader was not suppose to have ulterior motives and the story was just suppose to be a simple rivals to lovers thing but while reader was talking to shoko i was like, why not give her a cliche assassin story 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ hope you enjoyed reading!!

[worstdisastermaster]

The books and the shows aren't the same thing and?? That's okay?? It doesn't have to be??

Some of the artists haven't even seen the show yet, and maybe won't 🤷‍♀️ I know I've seen like. The 1st episode and that's it lol. And I really enjoyed it and I think it's really fun

But people tend to separate book fandoms from in screen fandoms, to an extent, at least, bc there ARE differences, and THATS OKAY

They are very connected but they are not the same and I don't understand why people find that so hard to accept?? Like. Genuinely I'm so confused lol

Like if someone was being disrespectful, or trying to whitewash Leah or something horrid then like. Defend her!!! (Do try to be polite tho bc people can and often do change, and they know what they have been taught until they learn more- like for example, a few years ago I had no idea ab anything lgtbq and I peob would have gotten myself canceled bc I had. No idea. Ab any of it. And despite having best intentions in heart i totally would have offended someone, and that would have crushed me, because *i didnt know*. I never would have hurt anyone on purpose, i just didnt realize what COULD hurt others on that specific topic, much less why. But now I identify with it and am learning new things ab jt every day and etc. And that's a super touchy topic for a lot of people and for good reason too! Just try to be kind first, then if they are jerks u can be a jerk back lol. Just give peopke a chnace to get better- and then PLEASE dont hold the past against them ubless they very clearly havent changed mk please please please let people grow and change and get better dont crush them before they can) anti Leah trash is. That. Trash

But why would you attack book Annabeth, just for existing? She was my childhood, and I identified a lot with her as I grew up. And guess what! I also identified with Hazel, and I do so even more now! No matter what race she will be casted as, I'm still going to imagine BOOK Hazel the way I always did. Doesn't mean I won't adore her actress, or appreciate art of the girl playing her role! But would you call me racist for drawing her as African American if her actress, was, say, Asian American? Or drawing Leo as Latino instead of Somoan? Because to me, u less I am being a jerk about it, all I'm doing is drawing the book instead of the show. Idk I'm too sleep deprived to put my thoughts into coherent words lol

I love the posts, where it's like, book Annabeth and show Annabeth holding hands. Those posts are my favorite, both because they are freaking adorable, but also. Because it's equal

They are different aspects of the same person

And

Thats

Okay

You know???

I quite literally grew up reading pjo. I read it at least once every year since I learned HOW to read, *partially on pjo*, until late middle school. I was raised on book Annabeth.

Show Annabeth is new and exciting and adorable and I'm so happy for it and I am very excited for all the people being introduced to it!!!!!!!! However, when I'm writing book pjo, I'm not swaping it out for show scenes, bc they are, in fact, different. Which, again, NOT A BAD THING. And you know what? When people from the show fandom write their scenes, they aren't going to be thinking ab the book scenes, and THATS OKAY TOO!!! And I could care less how my readers saw my characters when the read the story. I write them the way I imagine them, but it's their job as the reader to say 'no, actually :P' and swap out the appearance for one they liked better.

I did that plenty often as a kid, and i donf regeret it.

Which, ironically enough, was why my book Percy was blond until ab 6th grads XD I mixed up Luke and Percy's hair description ONCE and just. Never questioned it, though all the rereads, or looking at the covers of the books 💀 you can imagine my shock when I joined the fandom and found out Percy had black hair, instead of sandy hair like, you know, S A N D, like poseidon!!! And now show Percy is blond XD

That just proves people can imagine things how they want and jts okay- especially bc maybe, in an au, they're rifht!!! (Au being show Percy to me)

Anyways I lost my train of thought and it's almost 12 here lolll I hope I didn't say anything ill be embarrassed by come tomorrow~

Good night world :3

Hi guys, wanted to discuss something going on for a while now. What the hell is wrong with pjotwt? Like...whats wrong with this people? Do you see what they say? What they are even trying to do?

First of all, let me start by speaking about the cast. They are all wonderful children, Leah especially! She is doing an amazing job as Annabeth. But book Annabeth still exists yk? She is and she is literally white. It is not racist. But denying about a character being white in the books, even spreading hate like this...is racist. There are people out there related with Annabeth for years. People love her, every version, maybe book more maybe even the movie. How can you disrespect her like this? And most importantly, how can they attack an artist like this, with an art being so beautiful. What they are trying to do is not protecting Leah, it is spreading hate. It is awful. Making this fandom toxic, so so much.

Them trying to erase book Annabeth because she is white, trying to cover her by painting on her, shaming artists, calling people that loves her racist...What do we do about this in pjo fandom? This fandom used to be so beautiful, but now. This people are not part of the fandom in my eyes, because real fans, would respect every version of the characters, love them with their anything, even flaws. They would protect this characters because they love them, so much. And not to mention this characters are the ones Rick wrote 20 years ago, they were with us for so long.

What do tumblr think about this I wonder? Since pjo fandom is pretty active here :3

[fratttymatty]

Rebooted

(All characters are 18+)

Dylan was never the type to blend in. At 18, he was finally stepping into his own skin, but still, it was a skin that felt different from the one others expected of him. Quiet, a little reserved, and gay—he had always gravitated toward the girls. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to hang out with the guys; it was just that the popular boys in school made him feel like an outsider. They had their own language—one filled with smug smirks, competition, and a kind of easy, cocky swagger Dylan had never quite been able to pull off. He didn’t try. He was comfortable where he was.

His circle of friends? A tight-knit group of girls who didn’t care about popularity, who didn’t care if he was gay. They just liked him for who he was. And that was enough.

But the universe, it seemed, had a different plan for Dylan.

It started on an ordinary Friday afternoon. The bell rang to signal the end of the school day, and Dylan found himself walking toward his usual hangout spot by the bleachers. His friends were there, chatting and laughing, with their bags scattered around. But as he approached, he saw a few unfamiliar faces. Guys. Popular guys. The ones who ruled the school.

"Hey, Dylan!" A familiar voice called out. It was Cassie, one of the cheerleaders and one of his closest friends. She waved him over. "Come sit with us! The gang’s all here."

Dylan hesitated. He wasn’t sure what Cassie meant by “the gang,” but when he looked closer, he saw a mix of familiar faces—and a few others that made his stomach twist: Brent, the captain of the football team, Jake, the guy who spent more time flexing in the mirror than doing anything else, and a few others—pretty much the whole ‘elite’ crew of jocks and their girlfriends.

Dylan felt his pulse quicken. There was no way he belonged here. This wasn’t his scene. But when he caught Cassie’s pleading look, he sighed and walked over, taking a seat on the edge of the table, keeping his distance from the popular crowd.

“Don’t be shy, bro,” Brent said, giving him a grin that was too wide, too knowing. “Get over here, man. We want you to meet the guys.”

Dylan shifted uncomfortably but complied, dragging his chair a little closer. What was going on?

From the moment he sat down, it was like the world around him began to shift, subtly at first. Brent and Jake exchanged glances, and the girls—who Dylan had always been so comfortable with—seemed to be watching him, their eyes glittering with an unsettling mixture of amusement and... something else.

“You know, Dylan,” Jake said, tossing a football up in the air and catching it easily, “You’ve got potential, man. You just don’t know it yet.”

Dylan blinked, not sure what he meant. “What do you mean?”

Brent leaned forward, his voice low but intense. “You’ve got the looks, you’ve got the brains, but you’re not playing the game right.” He glanced at the girls, then back at Dylan. “You need to be more... confident. More dominant.”

Dylan’s brow furrowed. “I’m fine with how I am…”

“Not anymore,” Jake said with a sly grin. “You’ve been hanging with the girls for too long. Time for a change.”

Before Dylan could react, he felt something strange tugging at his mind, like his thoughts were being rearranged in real time. A sharp pull, a weight that lifted, as if the part of him that had always felt like an outsider was suddenly... slipping away. He blinked, trying to shake it off, but the feeling was too strong.

Cassie, perched next to him, leaned in, her voice dreamy and a little ditzy. “Like, oh my god, Dylan,” she said, flipping her hair, “you totes need to, like, show these guys what you’ve got, okay? You’re, like, way cooler than they think.” She giggled, not in a mocking way, but like she was excited by the idea.

Her words hit him like a wave. Everything in him was changing, shifting—and the more he thought about it, the more it felt right. This new version of himself started to form, like an empty vessel filling up with something brash, something confident, something that didn’t care about fitting in... because he was already at the top.

Before Dylan could say anything, his hair—the messy, untamed curls that had always been his trademark—began to change. It wasn’t like some sleek, polished version of cool. No. His hair became perfectly messy, tousled in a way that looked like he’d just woken up after an intense night of partying. There was no more worry about perfecting his style. Now, it was effortlessly good. His clothes, which had always been a little too... quirky for the jocks, seemed to rearrange themselves. His hoodie turned from an oversized, cozy piece into something more fitted and sleek, while his jeans tightened in a way that accentuated his newfound shape. His body felt stronger—sharper, like it had been sculpted into something more powerful.

And then the name came. The new name. The one that fit this new version of himself.

“I’m... Grayson,” he said, as if the name had always been there, waiting for him to claim it. He said it with an ease he didn’t know he had. It wasn’t Dylan. It wasn’t that version of him. Grayson sounded natural. It sounded right.

“Yeah, Grayson,” he repeated, leaning back in his chair with a smirk that felt more confident, more cocky than any expression he'd ever worn before. “That works.”

The transformation wasn’t just physical. His demeanor changed, too. His shoulders squared, his posture became straight and powerful. He was no longer the quiet, reserved guy at the edge of the group. Now, he was the center. He was Grayson, the guy who commanded attention without even trying. He leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest in a way that made him look untouchable.

Cassie’s eyes glittered. She leaned in, her voice giddy with excitement. “Like, Grayson, you’re so gonna crush it now, totes.” She giggled and then added, “You just need to, like, get with it, you know?”

Grayson didn’t even blink at her words. In fact, he liked that she thought this way, that she was already putting him in the same league as the other popular guys. He grinned, the kind of grin that sent a signal to everyone around him that he wasn’t just playing a part—he was the part.

Brent slapped him on the back, hard enough to make his chair rock. “Welcome to the team, Grayson. You’re gonna fit in perfectly.”

Grayson barely acknowledged the slap, his eyes still focused on the rest of the table. He felt the change completely settle in now, like a tight, perfect fit. The old Dylan, the shy, gay kid who had always been friends with the girls, was gone. In his place was someone who belonged here, who was made for this world.

The following weeks passed in a blur, but Grayson didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything anymore—except being the guy everyone wanted to be around. The girls? They loved him. The guys? They respected him, and he now knew how to play their game. Grayson was the new center of attention. He was the one who knew how to talk to the girls, how to charm them, how to make them laugh. He was also the one who owned his place on the football field. Every part of his old self, the insecure, unsure Dylan, was a distant memory now, fading like an old shadow.

His friends—the girls who had known him before, who had always been his comfort zone—tried to reach out. But Grayson was no longer the guy they’d once known. He didn’t need them. He didn’t need anyone.

Because now, he was at the top. And he didn’t care if the world knew it.

Grayson finally understood: he was exactly who he was meant to be.

Grayson adjusted to his new life with startling speed. It was like stepping into a new suit that fit him perfectly, like the universe had always intended for him to wear this version of himself. The popular group quickly absorbed him into their fold, and he found himself in the spotlight at every school event, every party, every hangout. It was effortless. No more uncertainty, no more second-guessing himself. He was now everything he had once envied: confident, desirable, and completely at ease.

But then there was them.

It was a Friday afternoon, a week after Grayson had fully transitioned into the "popular" world, and he was lounging on the steps outside the gym, chatting with the football team. The guys were in the middle of a heated conversation about their latest game, but Grayson’s mind wasn’t on the game—it was on them. His old friends. The girls.

He hadn’t really thought about it until now, but something was tugging at him, pulling him back to those days when he’d hung out with Cassie, Hannah, Emily, and the others. The feeling was almost foreign now. He couldn’t pinpoint it.

But there they were, walking toward him, his old group, the ones he used to feel so comfortable with. They were coming from the cafeteria, laughing together as they approached.

"Grayson!" Cassie called, a huge grin lighting up her face. Her voice was still bubbly, still a little ditzy, but something was different now. The way she looked at him was no longer playful; it was... adoring.

Grayson stood, the casual confidence now completely woven into his movements. "Hey, girls," he said with a grin, giving each of them a nod as they stopped in front of him.

There was a hesitation in the air. Something was off.

Cassie twirled a strand of her hair, giving him a wide, almost dreamy look. "Like, we’ve missed you, Grayson," she said, her voice slow and a little breathless. “You, like, totally should hang with us more. We, like, never see you anymore.”

Hannah, another one of his old friends, smiled, but there was something different in her eyes—something more intense than before. "Yeah, we miss the old Dylan," she said quietly. But it wasn’t a complaint—it was more of a longing.

Grayson’s chest tightened, the old name feeling strange to hear. "Dylan? That was... a long time ago."

Emily, who had always been the most pragmatic of the group, shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her arms folded. She didn’t smile, but her gaze lingered on him, trying to read him in a way that felt more like an interrogation. "You don’t really seem like the same person anymore," she said, her voice carrying a sharp edge.

Grayson, though, just smirked and leaned against the brick wall, his posture the very image of cocky indifference. "I’m not. Dylan’s gone, you know? Grayson’s the guy now."

The words rolled off his tongue effortlessly. It felt natural now, the confidence, the certainty that he didn’t need to explain himself anymore. Grayson was the guy—he was who everyone wanted to be. The truth of it had become ingrained in him, like a new set of rules he couldn’t ignore.

Cassie tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with what Grayson could only describe as admiration. "Well... I guess that’s, like, okay,” she said, giggling lightly. “I just, like, miss the old Dylan, you know? But... you look, like, way hotter now." She winked at him, giving him a flirtatious smile.

Grayson didn’t think twice about it. He wasn’t the shy, uncertain kid who had spent so much time with Cassie and the others. His world had changed, and now, he felt like a different person—a person who could look at Cassie and feel a twinge of something that was definitely not friendship.

The shift was obvious. Cassie wasn’t the only one.

Hannah’s gaze softened as she watched him, and he caught the way her eyes lingered on him a little too long. "You look different," she said, almost in awe. "Like, not just your hair and stuff... but, like, you are different."

Grayson could see it now. It wasn’t just about his new appearance—his new hair, his new clothes, the sharp edge to his smile—it was the way they were looking at him. They were looking at him like he was... more than their friend. They were seeing him as something else.

Something... attractive.

Grayson felt a flash of discomfort deep in his chest. He hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected them to want him—like that. This wasn’t the world he’d known. He wasn’t used to being the guy the girls crushed on, not like this. He was used to being the guy they confided in, the one who was always there, always supportive. He didn’t want this kind of attention.

He looked away, trying to push the feeling down. His mind raced for a moment. But then, a thought settled in his brain like a weight: It didn’t matter. He was Grayson now. He wasn’t that old version of himself. He wasn’t the shy, sensitive Dylan who had been more concerned with what his friends thought than anything else.

Grayson wasn’t gay. He wasn’t that guy anymore. The pieces of him that had once fit together in that old version of Dylan—the parts that had found comfort in the girls, in their easy friendship, in his secret crushes—had been wiped away. Now, he was the guy who could casually flirt with Cassie and laugh with Hannah and feel no need to question it. He didn’t feel the pull of something deeper.

He liked the attention, the way they looked at him, the way they were drawn to him now. He could be one of the guys. He was one of the guys. And he liked it.

“Yeah,” he said, straightening up, a smirk playing on his lips. “Things change, girls. But I’m still the same, just... better.”

That night, at the usual hangout, Grayson felt the weight of the shift settle in again. Cassie had been hovering, her flirtations becoming more obvious, and even Hannah’s glances had taken on a new intensity. It was as though they couldn’t help but be drawn to him, to the new Grayson.

He didn’t return their feelings, though. He didn’t feel anything for them, not the way they seemed to feel about him. It wasn’t the same anymore. His thoughts were consumed by the new life he was building. It wasn’t just about the looks—it was about the lifestyle. The world had opened up for him, and he was going to take it all, leaving his old self, his old connections, behind.

“Grayson,” Cassie cooed as she leaned in closer, “you, like, want to hang out later? We could, like, totally grab some coffee and talk... just the two of us?”

Grayson didn’t hesitate. He smiled that smile—the one that had turned into his signature look—and leaned back in his chair. “Sure, Cassie. I’m down. Let’s hang.”

He didn’t feel guilty. Not at all. He wasn’t the person he used to be. Dylan was a memory. Grayson was the here and now. And Grayson was straight.

No, there was no going back.

And for the first time in a long while, Grayson felt completely at ease.

Grayson was beginning to love the life he had created for himself. The popular guys had become his new best friends, the girls adored him, and the school seemed to revolve around him. It was like everything had clicked into place. He was no longer the shy, reserved Dylan who spent time with girls because he didn’t quite fit in with the guys. He was Grayson now, confident and cocky, moving seamlessly through a world where he was the center of attention.

But then there was Cassie.

Cassie had always been one of Grayson’s closest friends, the bubbly, talkative cheerleader with a contagious laugh and a constant stream of “like”s and “totes” in her conversations. But ever since Grayson had fully stepped into his new identity, she had been acting... a little different. More than just her usual ditzy self, she was acting more into him. Grayson couldn’t help but notice how her eyes lingered on him a little too long, how she laughed at his jokes a little too loudly, how she started to copy his every move, even the way he walked.

And that’s when it hit him—Cassie was changing too.

It was after school one day, a bright and sunny Tuesday, when Grayson noticed it the most. He had just finished practice and was heading toward the parking lot, his phone in hand, texting some of the guys about a party later that night. As he turned a corner, he saw her: Cassie, standing by the lockers, waiting for him, her eyes wide and sparkly.

"Grayson!" she squealed, bouncing on her toes as soon as she saw him. “O-M-G! Like, I totes need to talk to you!”

Grayson smirked and started to walk over, but as he did, he noticed something... different about her. She wasn’t wearing her usual cheerleader uniform or a cute casual look. No. Today, Cassie was rocking a tight pink crop top that showed off her midriff and a pair of high-waisted denim shorts that hugged her thighs in a way that screamed “summer girl vibes.” Her hair—usually soft and curly—was now sleek and straight, cascading over her shoulders like she had just walked out of a magazine shoot. And she wasn’t just standing there chatting. She was, like, posing—with her hand on her hip, lips pursed, head tilted in that adorable way she always did.

Grayson raised an eyebrow. "Cassie, you okay?" he asked, a bit more concerned than he’d intended. She was acting... well, a lot more than usual.

Cassie giggled, her high-pitched laugh ringing through the hallway. "Oh my god, Grayson!" she squealed, practically jumping into his arms as she gave him a hug. “Like, I’ve missed you SO much! You’re, like, soooo different now. Like, soooo much cooler than before!”

She pulled back and looked at him, eyes sparkling with what could only be described as adoration.

Grayson felt a knot tighten in his stomach. Not again. Was she... really looking at him like that?

He smiled, trying to brush off the unease. "Yeah, I’ve changed a little. Guess I’ve finally figured out how to play the game."

Cassie clapped her hands together with a high-pitched squee. “You’re, like, SOOOOO hot now, Grayson! It’s, like, soooo cute how you, like, don’t even care! I totes love that about you!”

Grayson chuckled, trying to keep his cool, but he noticed how Cassie was now practically hanging on his every word, her big, doe eyes locked on him, her lips parted slightly like she was waiting for him to say something profound. This wasn’t just Cassie anymore. She was, well... different.

“Yeah, well, it’s a lot easier once you stop worrying about being anything other than yourself,” Grayson said with a wink, feeling a little too proud of how easily it came out.

Cassie’s face lit up with a giant grin. “O-M-G, Grayson! You, like, give the BEST advice! Totes inspiring, like, I feel like I need to, like, totally rethink my life!” She put a hand to her chin, pretending to think deeply, though her thoughts seemed far more on him than on anything else.

Grayson felt the transformation in her. It wasn’t just physical anymore. She was becoming more—more like him. More cocky, more confident, more willing to follow his lead.

“You know what, Grayson?” Cassie said suddenly, her voice turning more flirtatious. “I, like, totally wanna be, like, the coolest girl in school. Like, no one can touch me. You know? I just, like, wanna be like you!”

Grayson smirked again, the realization dawning on him: Cassie was changing to fit into this world too. It wasn’t just about her appearance anymore—she was adopting the confidence, the attitude, even the carefree flirtation he had mastered.

A few days passed, and the shift in Cassie became even more apparent. It was a Friday afternoon, and Grayson had just finished chatting with Brent and Jake about the upcoming weekend. As he turned to leave, he saw Cassie again—waiting for him by the entrance.

This time, she was... well, she was adorably out of control.

Cassie was wearing an oversized, pastel pink hoodie that hung off her shoulder, revealing a glimpse of a lacy bralette. She had teamed it with a pair of knee-high boots and a matching pink backpack with the word “LOVE” written across it in sparkly letters. Her hair was even more perfectly styled now, the loose curls giving her that “I woke up like this” vibe. She looked... so cute it was almost impossible to ignore.

But what really caught Grayson’s attention was the way she was acting.

“Oh my god, Grayson!” she exclaimed, practically skipping toward him. “Like, I TOTES just got the best idea!” Her eyes were wide, and her hands were flailing in the air as she practically bounced from foot to foot.

Grayson grinned at the sight, though there was something new in his gut. Cassie was different. She wasn’t just acting more like a popular girl—she was embracing it with everything she had.

“Yeah, what’s up, Cassie?” Grayson asked, leaning casually against the doorframe, his hands in his pockets. He wasn’t sure if he was enjoying this or if he was starting to feel, well... a little guilty. She wasn’t just copying his attitude; she was, in some ways, losing herself in it.

“Oh my god, I’m, like, SO obsessed with you right now!” she said, giggling wildly, her voice so high-pitched now that it was almost cartoonish. “Like, we should totally, like, go shopping this weekend. I want, like, ALL the cutest outfits so I can look like you!” She twirled her hair and smiled at him like he was the most amazing person in the world.

Grayson chuckled, but there was a hint of something else in his chest now. Was this what he had become?

“Cassie, you’re already, like, super cute,” he said with a shrug, trying to brush off the weird feeling. “You don’t need to change for anyone.”

Cassie beamed, but then her face turned serious—well, as serious as Cassie could get.

“No, like, I totally do!” she said, throwing her arms wide, her oversized hoodie flaring out around her. “I wanna be, like, the hottest girl in school, and I think, like, I can do it now—like, with you!”

Grayson stood there for a moment, watching her bounce on her heels. And he couldn’t deny it—Cassie was starting to look... perfect. She had become the kind of girl who was always smiling, always laughing, always looking for the next thing to keep her cute, energetic world spinning. It was like watching a flower bloom into its full, exaggerated beauty.

He had to admit: Cassie was adorable. And in this world of confidence and cocky smiles, she fit in perfectly.

And, maybe—just maybe—Grayson liked that she had become his own little ditzy sidekick in this new world.

From then on, Cassie and Grayson were inseparable. She was his partner in crime, his cute, bubbly counterpart in the world of cool kids, and she had completely embraced it. No longer just the ditzy cheerleader, Cassie was now the ultimate girly-girl, obsessed with looking cute, acting cute, and being obsessed with Grayson.

And in her own way, she was no longer just trying to fit in. She was leading the pack, a version of herself that was just as untouchable as Grayson—cute, giggly, and completely at ease in her new world.

And together, they ruled it.

It was a Friday evening, just a week after Grayson and Cassie had fully slipped into their new personas. The school year had settled into its rhythm, and the pair of them had become inseparable. Grayson, now at the top of the social ladder, and Cassie, who had gone from the cute, ditzy cheerleader to the ultra-confident, bubbly "it girl," were always together. They were the couple everyone talked about, even if they hadn’t officially defined it yet.

It wasn’t like Grayson hadn’t thought about it. Cassie had become more than just his friend—more than just the girl he spent time with to pass the time. There was something about her energy, the way she was always there, her wide eyes that sparkled every time she looked at him. It was impossible to ignore.

And as for Cassie, she had never been more obsessed with someone in her life. Her crush on Grayson, which had started as innocent admiration, had deepened into something more. She liked him more than just for his looks or popularity. She liked the way he made her feel like she was the most important person in the room, the way he casually made everything seem so easy.

It was at the party that weekend when it finally clicked.

The music thumped through the walls of the house as Grayson leaned against the kitchen counter, a solo cup in his hand, chatting with some of the guys. He could see Cassie across the room, surrounded by her usual group of friends, but her eyes were fixed on him—no surprise there. She was always watching him, always a little bit in awe of him, like he was the sun and she was orbiting around him.

Grayson’s smirk curled up at the corners of his lips. She was cute, no doubt about it. And the way she acted around him—well, it wasn’t just cute anymore. It was kind of perfect.

And then, in that moment, something shifted. Cassie’s laugh, high-pitched and slightly off-key, rang out as she chatted with some of the other girls, but it wasn’t just a casual laugh. It was a flirty laugh. And when she caught his gaze from across the room, she tilted her head and blew him a kiss.

Cassie had been working her way through the crowd, and before Grayson could even process it, she was standing next to him, her wide, sparkling eyes staring up at him. Her oversized pink hoodie hung off one shoulder, revealing a lacy bralette, and her perfectly styled hair bounced as she tilted her head to look up at him.

"Hi, Grayson!" she cooed, her voice full of that sweet, innocent energy that made Grayson feel like he could melt into the floor. She leaned against him just a little too casually, but he couldn’t help but notice the way she was very much in his personal space now.

"Hey, Cassie," he replied, his voice a little quieter, the weight of her proximity catching him off guard. He casually brushed a strand of hair out of her face, his fingertips grazing her soft skin. “You’re looking... really cute tonight."

Cassie giggled, a sound that was so adorably high-pitched it could have been straight out of a rom-com. She batted her eyelashes at him. “Aww, you, like, think so? I, like, totally spent, like, a million hours picking this outfit, so I’m so glad you noticed!"

Grayson couldn’t help but laugh. Cassie. The girl who had once been his carefree friend—always happy, always a little clueless—was now the one who had his full attention. She was confident, sure, but still that cute, bubbly, ditzy energy he couldn’t get enough of.

“Yeah, you look... perfect,” Grayson said, leaning closer, a slow grin spreading across his face. He couldn’t deny it. She was perfect. In her own way.

Cassie’s cheeks flushed a soft pink, and she giggled again, the sound making Grayson’s heart skip a beat.

“Grayson...” she trailed off, her eyes gleaming as she stared up at him. “Like, I totally have a confession to make.”

Grayson raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s that?”

Cassie, looking up at him with those huge puppy-dog eyes, took a deep breath. “Well, like, I’ve, like, really liked you for a long time, but I was too shy to say anything.” She let out a little giggle, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. “I think you’re, like, sooo amazing and cool, and, like, I’m not even sure why I didn’t notice it sooner! But, like, I just, like, wanna be with you... y’know?”

Grayson’s heart skipped, and for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t entirely sure what to say. He had always thought of Cassie as his friend. She had been the cute, bubbly girl he spent time with, but this was... different. She wasn’t just his friend anymore.

And somehow, somewhere along the way, he’d started to feel the same way.

He smiled, his hand finding the small of her back, pulling her gently closer. “Cassie... I think I’ve liked you for a while too,” he said, his voice low and genuine.

She blinked, her mouth falling open in surprise. “Really?! Oh my god, I, like, totally can’t believe you just said that!”

Before Grayson could respond, Cassie’s hands were on his shoulders, and with a sudden burst of energy, she was kissing him, her lips soft and full of that cute, bubbly warmth that was so Cassie. Grayson didn’t hesitate for a second. He kissed her back, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her even closer.

It wasn’t a deep, passionate kiss—not yet. But it was the kind of kiss that was sweet, electric, and filled with the promise of more. When they pulled away, Cassie was practically glowing, her face flushed, her hands still holding onto his shoulders like she never wanted to let go.

“Oh my god, Grayson, I’m, like, so happy right now,” Cassie said, her voice high-pitched and full of that giddy excitement. “Like, you’re so perfect! You’re, like, the guy of my dreams!”

Grayson chuckled, still holding her close. “I’m glad you think so, Cassie. Because, like... you’re kind of the girl of mine.”

Cassie beamed, her eyes sparkling as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body closer to his. “Like, this is SO cute. I, like, can’t believe we’re, like, together now! I’m totally obsessed with you, Grayson!”

“Same here,” he said with a smirk, feeling that familiar surge of confidence and excitement wash over him.

They were no longer just friends. No longer just two people who shared casual flirtations and hangouts. They were a couple now—a power couple in this new world they had created for themselves. And it felt right.

From that night on, Grayson and Cassie were inseparable. They were the couple everyone envied—the girl who was effortlessly cute, bubbly, and ditzy, and the guy who was effortlessly cool, confident, and cocky. Together, they ruled the school, and nothing could pull them apart.

And for Grayson, the guy who had once doubted his place in this world, it felt like he was finally, truly home.

[lemotmo]

https://x.com/jinxediaz/status/1856377468040454200

I am

So confused what they are doing. Because I’ve been begging for Eddie character growth for years and for him to let himself want for years but…

This literally reads like Eddie’s going to be like “hmm sucks to suck to be you right now buck. Thoughts a prayers. But I don’t have time for you right now sorry not sorry”

And that’s just not. Eddie. Or buddie. Or their relationship at all. Like why are we ruining their relationship to give Eddie the character development he needed?

Like I’m getting major season 6 flashbacks now. And the way we haven’t really seen much excitement from them past episode 6, if this is what’s coming I can see why.

NO NO NO Nonny!

This part of the interview is actually such a great thing to read! This is soooo good for us!

Eddie has the RIGHT to think about himself first! He NEEDS to think about himself first. There is no room for him to change if he doesn't work on himself FIRST.

There is NO Buddie if Eddie doesn't first figure some things out about himself. That will take some time to work through.

There is NO Buddie is Buck doesn't first figure some things out about himself. That will take some time to work through.

If you read that part of the interview closely, you'll see that this is NOT about Eddie abandoning Buck at all. He'll still be there for him and he'll still be a listening ear. His home will still be a safe haven for Buck. Eddie will just be too busy trying to figure himself out to be more than that listening ear, which isn't a bad thing at all.

So Eddie will still be there for Buck and Buck will still be there for Eddie, but they'll both be figuring out themselves ON THEIR OWN!

This isn't like season 6 at all. This is something new we haven't seen before and that is exactly what we've been waiting for.

So yeah, when I read that part of the interview I get really excited Nonny, can't lie. Sorry. 🤷‍♀️

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@zepskies

Girl, I am so excited to read what you thought of this chapter!

The aftermath of her trying to piece together her memories of her parents' death and her brother's betrayal is so heartbreaking. 😥 Like she's realizing that the narrative of her life was a lie, in a way. Hopefully she'll be able to reclaim the part of her past that was good and true with her parents, vs. the love and care she still has in her life through the people around her.

Exactly! It's almost like she has to start over and it's like nothing is the same. She is surrounded by people who love her, people who will ADMIT it and people who WON'T ADMIT it lol.

Lol GIRL. You KNOW WHY. You're just refusing to see it! But I could really see this moment in my head like a movie -- that look on Ben's face, watching her walk away. 💔

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

That little creature she created is interesting though. You really get a sense that she tapped into something in her powers that was before yet unexplored -- like she broke through a barrier without realizing and unlocked new depths within herself.

That's what I was going for! The reader is really discovering new things about herself and I think that's why she's afraid of what comes next. She thought that she was in control of her abilities and knew everything about them, but now she's realizing that she's on the precipice of something that she's never considered about her powers. Plus, I really think that the creature is adorable, well, besides the murder tendencies. (I guess we could also say that about Ben LMAO)

Loll he's really not. But the thing about Ben is, when he does make those gestures, you know it's coming from a place of sincerity because he doesn't soften himself easily.

Yes! Ben is never like that for anyone. He's not doing it because he feels obligated to, it's because he genuinely cares about the reader, even if he won't admit it to himself. 😒

Aww I love her grandmother so much! At least someone in her family is in her corner. 😭

Honestly I love her too! I was so on the fence about introducing her into the story, but I'm glad I did. And yes, the reader needed at least ONE living relative that genuinely cares about her. 😅

I think we ALL know who you meant. 😂

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

I also love how you describe the "creative chaos" of her grandmother's house. The imagery in those paragraphs are so descriptive and lovely to imagine. I love especially: "boxes upon boxes of cookies in different stages of being packaged all over the counter." It's so grandmotherly and yet feels unique at the same time.

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

Discovering more about her past as Soothsayer, as well as her friendship with Ben was so very interesting! I didn't see it coming and that's the best thing of all, but now it's a way her grandmother can relate to her even more -- as well as be in an even better position to give her advice when it comes to that man.

Again, I was so on the fence about Soothsayer, but what you said about her being in "an even better position to give her advice when it comes to that man" is exactly why I decided to include her. But I think that the reader needed some sage advice from someone who sees through Ben, understands him, and helps the reader come to the same conclusion, that there really is more to Ben that meets the eye and that the reader should "take a chance on him." (Pun intended 😂)

Heart...breaking... 😢 She's such a sweetheart. How can she not realize how much she cares about him (loves him)?

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

GRANDMA YESSSS, TELL HER!!! GET IT THROUGH HER HEAD! lolll Ben isn't incapable of fear (or love), no matter how much he'd like to pretend. The way it comes out of him might "look different," through snappish anger and denial and rigidity, but it's still fear.

Again, Grandma for the win lol.

And YES you said it! It's not that Ben is some emotionless lump who doesn't care about anyone and feels nothing, he feels everything, but he just refuses to show it in the healthy way that people should. He's been so conditioned to see expressing emotions in a healthy way as something to be "frowned upon" so instead he has all these explosions of unhealthy angst that really don't help anyone.

Come on now, Ben. You're over 100 years old! Surely you get what's happening to you by now! 🤣🤣 You're simping for a girl you care about!

He really should know better 😅😂

Oooh the plants are keeping her young, huh? 😏 Maybe enough to sync up her lifespan with Ben's???

Mayyyybbbbeeeee...😉

Honestly, as much as I love reading fics where the reader isn't a supe, there's always a little part of me that can't help but see the reader growing old and Ben staying the same, and it always breaks my heart. There really is something so intimate and romantic about being able to truly spend your life with someone else, not just your life and then they go on for another few centuries. It's why I don't write too many readers that aren't as indestructible as him. I always try to write in a contingency plan that kind of saves Ben that heartbreak. But that is not to say anything bad about the fics were the reader isn't a supe or able to live as long as him. There are so many of those that I absolutely love and are so well written!

Side note, I did like how you handled it in BMD, when I read that forever ago. It was a good way to save Ben that heartbreak.

LMFAOO. Again, I love her. Kick his ass, Di! Get him in gear! "Try harder" -- INDEED.

Di is really giving him the kick in the pants he needs and is saying the things to him that we've all been saying from the beginning.😂

I'm deeeeeadd! I loved this line so much. 🤣🤣🤣 Benjamin is testing my patience too, good Lord. I can see why he's scared. He's on the verge of admitting he loves her -- and finally doing something about it. After his experience with Countess, that'll put anyone off of trying again to delve into a proper relationship (not to say their relationship was a proper example of a loving one, because it wasn't, obviously). Especially for someone like Ben, who struggles with real intimacy and dealing with his feelings, it makes sense that he'd digging his heels in now -- no matter how frustrating it is. 🙃🙃

It's my favorite line too! That and the bundt cake 😂. But you're right, he's afraid of everything that he's feeling and after Countess, he's not sure if he should fall for someone again. In relationships you do have to be vulnerable, open, and be emotionally available and for him those two things seem pretty daunting. This whole thing really makes me feel worse for him, because Countess messed him up, and made him afraid to have those feelings for someone else.

But I'm so happy you liked it!! And thank you for all of your wonderful comments. It really is so nice to hear your feedback friend💗😊

Chapter 14: Don't Be A Bundt Cake

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

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

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

Word Count: 13.1K

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

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

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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

Reader POV

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

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

But you didn't notice any of it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you desperately needed the comfort of her embrace.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But what would I say?

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

He's really not the best at that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damn it Darren.

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

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

Darren.

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

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

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

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

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

"Honey?" Your grandmother says in a soothing voice

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

"Yeah?" Your voice shakes slightly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You saw it?" You repeat, confused.

What's going on?

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

"What?"

Is she saying what I think she's saying?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You pretended to be a fortune teller?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She left without telling him goodbye?

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

“But what about Nicaragua?"

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

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

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

You could feel your heart breaking for her.

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

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

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

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

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

“When?”

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

“Was he mad?”

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

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

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

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

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

“And when would that be?”

Your grandmother shrugs. “Maybe on my deathbed.”

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

 You snort. “And no one knew?”

“Your dad figured it out.”

“How? When?”

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

“I was never injected?”

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

“Darren thought I was.”

“I know.”

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

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

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

“Yes.”

“You heard everything Darren said?"

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t think you ever will.”

"Really?"

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

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

“Was it really that bad?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ve seen-“ Your eyes widen.

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

“That’s so weird.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I killed Darren, I killed Elijah-"

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

"But-"

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head.

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

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

"Why not?"

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

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

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

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

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

"You don't?"

"Gran!"

"What? He's attractive."

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

"He has." She interrupts.

"What?"

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

"What does that have to do with anything?"

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

"Why does that matter?"

"Because he loved her."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Wait-"

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

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

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

"Okay."

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

Soldier Boy POV

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he wasn't sure.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Di?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"About what?"

"My granddaughter."

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

"Yes." Her voice softens for a moment.

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

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

The thought that home wasn't with him.

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

"No, not good."

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

"No."

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

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

Oh. Ben relaxed a little bit.

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

"Yes you do!" Diana presses.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She certainly hasn't changed.

“I am not avoiding-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what’s that?”

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

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

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

"But-"

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

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

Wait what?

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

He hesitates.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"She doesn't."

"Why don't you believe me?"

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

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

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

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

Ben chuckles. "I missed you too sweetheart."

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

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

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

“I-“

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

“I’m not-“

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

“I-“

“Stop making excuses!”

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

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

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

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

The line goes dead.

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

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

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

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

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

But why do I feel like-

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

"Di I-"

But it's not Diana.

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

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

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

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

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

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[witherfide]

oaiwhwjwjw i just want to attack some ppl but i can’t look at anyone’s refs rn :,(

still not entirely sure what i do yet

i just.. find someone’s character i like then draw it?

and they may or may not attack me?

i appreciate how laidback it is but my autism needs very specific instructions or else i short-circuit from the fear of doing something wrong

[obsob]

i am a being capable of immeasurable love and whimsy

[ilovedthestars]

i have. too many things to do.

[stlispenard]

there is a thrill unearthed whenever some new side of louis emerges. like when his laughs are cut short and all the bricks that make up his walls are stacked back up high. every time it becomes more unsteady. it is exactly what lestat expects and it excites him to provoke it. the adrenaline makes him feel remarkably alive, his heart palpitating in new incomprehensible ways. he finds it difficult not to stir. louis threatens to come closer and lestat fears he stares back at him with eyes that are wide-blown and black from appetency. lestat folds his fingers and presses his nails into the skin of his palms to keep himself from reaching out.

     what he musters is not composure but something that vaguely resembles it. composure in that HE HAS NOT YET latched right onto louis’ throat but is still just sitting tensely on the edge of his seat. “i am competitive, what can i say? but, in my own defense, i was not aware of your particular attachment to the girl before the matter. i insist it was not as calculated as you make it out to be.” there is a lie in there somewhere. he does try his best to sound sincere, the way comrades do while LYING through their teeth.

     lestat looks at the contents of his glass and swirls it around a little before having a reluctant taste. the effect is sobering. he keeps his eyes lowered while louis continues to talk right up until his talking becomes a staggering plea. he lets a bit of silence persist between them, once again weighing how far he can push it now. he is all too tempted to call his bluff again and insist that miss lily is nothing but a costume he wears. it sits on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows it along with the unpalatable whiskey. 

     eventually he swaps his words for laughter. it feels abrupt and disingenuous even to him. “monsieur, you are  sharper than any other man i have ever met - of course there’s is no need for me to tell you how you feel about our dear woman. i spoke out of turn, forgive me.” lestat nods his head towards louis’ glass in the next instant, “i’ll happily buy you another once you’re through, in fact, i’ll buy you another ten rounds if it means you can forget this moment and we can continue our pleasant - although wet - evening.”

“how you talk like this without a drop of alcohol in you is a wonder to me,”

louis is taken aback by that comment . a rush of self-awareness washes over him . had he said too much ? too little ? left too much up for interpretation ? no , he was overthinking again . that observation from his drinking companion meant nothing except that lestat was , perhaps , not used to such bluntness . he is quick to reach out for his glass of whiskey and taking a sip . LIQUID COURAGE ; though what he needed courage for louis did not know . but he thinks he might need ten more drinks when he catches lestat's eyes unabashedly travelling down his body --- his suit perhaps ? louis feels a shiver run down his spine as he becomes very still , fearing that any sudden movements might frighten the blond and his piercing gaze away .

the manner in which he speaks does nothing to relieve the tension in louis' jaw . a deep mighty voice expressing interest for men's primality ? he takes another sip of his drink . no sound any of the saloon's girls had made could ever compare to that . no song , no compliment , no moan ... and as if lestat had heard his thoughts , he makes a bold remark . louis begins to sit up straight , chuckling , ready to disagree with his friend , but stops when being accused of finding no pleasure in miss lily's company . all humour evaporates in a flash . louis sets his glass down on the table . "excuse me ?" there's a frown to him . but before he can dive deeper into what lestat had meant , the frenchman continues .

and oh , he is as infuriating as he is charismatic that lestat .

when louis speaks again , he does not sound pleased . "i'm not happy that you were aware of how i felt and still went ahead and made a big show out of buyin' miss lily's time . right to my face , too ! tryin' to make me feel bad ." he's got his elbow on the table now , leaning in so that he does not have to raise his voice at lestat to get his point across . "you really don't understand how that might make a man feel some type of way ? havin' your emotions toyed with ?" leaning in had been a mistake . he could see the lack of imperfections on his friend's pale skin , how smooth it looked ... could smell rainfall and cologne on him . louis does not yield . "oh , but i'm sure all that righteous fuckin' really wears out your shining armour , lestat ."

petty --- there's poison under his tongue , threatening to get out . but he swallows it down with some more whiskey . louis doesn't want to fight . hell , he doesn't even think there's any grounds for them to fight on . he wanted lestat to empathise with his jealousy without needing to admit to it . louis took a deep breath ... when he spoke again , he was much gentler than before . "i don't want you talkin' about what miss lily and i get up to in private nor sharin' any opinions you might have over my enjoyment of our time together ." louis' lips parted , hesitated and then spoke . "please ." it felt odd muttering that last word . to anyone else he might have offered a threat or something more stern to ensure their silence --- but with lestat , he could be earnest . or at least , he could try .

[leucoratia]

Kraz, royal healer

Kraz (Razzy if they like you(but they like everyone)(except Jerry)) is a human (?) mage who voluntarily exiled themselves to the underground to follow monsterkind during the war. They are later appointed royal healer by the king and queen and has devoted themselves to the betterment of monster society ever since. They are the only human the royal scientist ever tolerated (although would you call sharing lab coats and beds tolerating or...something else?)

Information

-Species : mage (half monster, half human)

-Age : older than the barrier. As long as they will to live, it appears that a mage cannot age.

-Gender : apparently born a female, although it is unclear how sexual dimorphism develops in mages. Kraz does not specifically care.

-Soul : Green

-Height : 1.99m (6'5)

-Hair colour : Black (somehow iridescent ?)

-Eye colour : deep dark brown. Their sclera is grey as well.

-Build : sickly thin, actually skin and bones. They never eat much of anything, claiming that they do not need a lot of food. It worries people quite a lot, especially Toriel, but they have been like this for hundreds of years so... at least they're not dead ? Still, they scare the kids.

-Personnality : a sweet, calming presence. They exude an aura which makes anyone around them feel at peace. Although they are quite akward and generally anxious, they smile easily and brightly. Kraz is very friendly, caring, and kind to a fault. has quite an outdated manner of speech. A jokester. Always does their best to please people around them. Deeply devoted. Probably has some sort of attention deficit. Easily fascinated. Suffers from chronic bird behaviour (will bring you trinkets??).

-Likes : gardening, playing the piano, cooking, puzzles, collecting shiny trinkets, science, herbal medicine, cultivating bacteria, gift giving, late 1800's fashion, dark spaces, funny socks, Gaster.

-Dislikes : loud noises (especially clamoring crowds), being watched, sudden movements, bright reflective surfaces, small enclosed spaces, bitter foods.

Backstory

Kraz was born to a human mother and a monster father during the war, as mages often are. Abandoned by their mother, who could not endure the shame of their birth, they were taken under their father’s wing and raised amongst a small monster village. Early on, they manifested an extremely intense green soul and spectacular magical power, even for a mage. Although unequipped and unprepared to nurture such potential, the monsters in Kraz's community did their best to encourage the toddler's magical prowess, such as having them heal cuts and bruises, or speed up a few carrots' growth. But as war progressed, human armies swept through monster territory and eventually raided the child's village, pillaging and slaughtering everyone in their path. In these times mages were rare, being the product of monster-human relationships, but extremely sought after by humanity, who could only manifest minor magic potential. Stumbling upon the young Kraz and recognising in their physiology the traits of a "hybrid", human soldiers immediately identified them as a mage and took them away to be raised amongst humans. Their father, if he ever survived the attack, never stopped looking for his little bird until his dust settled on the ground. And so Kraz was raised in human war camps and settlements, amongst soldiers and other mages. Being so young, they only ever had vague memories of their time amongst monsters and soon put them to rest. As they grew, their healing powers grew with them, and it was soon clear to the commanders that Kraz may as well be the most spectacular healer that they had ever known, capable of rising men at death's door back on their feet and ready to fight in mere minutes. Suffice to say, as one of their greatest asset, they were sent from battlefield to battlefield, from division to division in order to rise the almost dead and reinforce the dwindling human forces. But they had a fault. Kraz, at their heart, was kind. Compassionate. Caring. And oh so, so young still, no more than fifteen. And the pain, the suffering inflicted by and to monsters broke their soul into pieces. See, despite all the propaganda, they could never quite bring themselves to hate monsters. Hate half of themselves. And so in the midst of the battle's confusion, in secret, they would slip a hand or a green bullet towards a bleeding frog here. A dusting lion there. They wished they could just run to them and pour their whole magic into the wounded, but the human soldiers watched them. Always. But eventually, as war was nearing its end, temptation was too great. They could take it no more. And so during a bloody battle, they slipped away from the soldiers surrounding them and ran to a fallen monster, who was already dusting away. A skeleton. The young mage fell to their knees, reaching for the monster's broken face with magic already at their fingertips and reassurances spilling from their lip, and poured everything they had left as the soldier tried to struggle and speak. He barely was able to call to them, in a language they didn't know, his bones just starting to reform, but fate is oh so cruel. Kraz could only slip their guard's attention for so long, and just as life started to flicker back in the man's face, they were torn off his bloodied body and promptly covered in his dust, their work undone by the fall of a sword. As the soldiers dragged the teen away, they could only claw down at the dusty floor to rack up the dust, and a nametag. Dingbats.

"Traitor", they were deemed. "An error of nature", "a freak", they were called. But a valuable freak nonetheless. Their magical abilities were still wholly unmatched through all of the land. They were needed. And so Kraz was beaten down, corrected, whipped back into shape. Into following orders. Royals spoke of banishment. Of a barrier. And they needed mages.

Finally, monsters were defeated. They were to be sealed underground. Kraz and the other mages assembled, staring down at a beaten monsterkind, a sea of eyes and bleeding hearts crying out at them as they chanted the words.

They couldn't do it. They couldn't.

They ran to them.

As the barrier rose up, this child fell to their knees in front of Asgore and Toriel and begged them to let them stay. To right this wrong. To help. They did.

And so Kraz poured their heart out. It wasn't easy, getting monsters to accept human help, even though they shared some physical traits. They slaved away for nothing in return, growing crops magically in dead ground and never taking even a grain of wheat for themselves. Endlessly imbuing water with their energy to create remedies for everyone. Only accepting the bare minimum of food to stay alive, even though they felt as if they were tearing this food away from the hands of the needy. They tried so, so hard to repair humanity's sins. Clear their name in the eyes of monsters.

And eventually, it somewhat worked. Instead of frowns, they were faced with smiles. Children stopped crying when they saw the healer's incomplete beak and started to spare them a smile. The elderly stopped refusing treatment from them. And even though they still had to face a seemingly unclimbable wall as they began further studies in medicine, biology and microbiology, chemistry, agricultural sciences, magical studies, anything to broaden their knowledge and help, they made it. (No thanks to the shy, awkward, standoffish and straight up rude engineering-chemistry-physics student which whom the king and queen pushed Kraz to hang out with. They said that it would "help the both of you, you kids would work beautifully together". Not that the mage minded, as a matter of fact they quite enjoyed his presence and always did their best to be agreeable and overall lovely company; but the skeleton never quite seemed to get over his absolute loathing of humans. Oh well, no matter. They'll keep trying anyways.). Eventually they did succeed and ascended to the position of "tolerable fellow student who I regularly hang out with" in the eyes of their adversary. When Kraz got their first doctorate, in medicine, WingDings even cracked a smile. And as the two completed their studies, the now mage-doctor was promoted to "acceptable collaborator". A win for the ages!

Kraz finally moved out of the derelict place they were practicing medicine in since the war to a more acceptable place (which was, well, their newly furnished house, courtesy of the royal family for their friendship and as a congratulatory gift for their doctorate) and kept working as always. But with an official title to strengthen their position, and what some may call a reluctant friend, things seemed lighter. Monsters were flocking to their office, business (which was still free but their patients insisted on leaving little somethings) was booming, their ties to their fellow "collaborator " deepening, and the doctor became sincerely appreciated in their community. Maybe not in all monsterdom yet, memories of the war never quite fading, but it was progress. Things were going well.

But it seemed that fate had other plans.

One day, plague broke out. The illness decimated monster populations, entire families perishing from an unknown condition.

And Kraz, oh Kraz, tried everything. Every spell, every potion, every cure they could think of. Nothing worked. They asked for help to the other healers, consulted with other scientists, even asked the engineers if they could think of something, anything. Nothing worked. They could only watch as the malady swept through monsters, powerless to watch them die, just like they did during the war.

No. No.

They would not stand for it, they would not STAND FOR THIS !! They will find a cure. At any cost.

They locked themselves in their laboratory.

One day. Two days.

Three days.

Six days.

Eight days.

Their colleagues had tried banging on the door, shouting at them to come out, to go home, they would not answer. They called for the doctor’s friends, to no avail. Eventually, it was WingDings Gaster, the royal scientist himself, to be at their door threatening them to “kick their feathery ass if it’s the last thing he does” in order to get them to open the damn door.

No answer.

But the royal scientist was a stubborn man. And when words failed, he proceeded to take the door’s security system apart and barge into the lab, only to be taken aback by the stench. He covered his non-existent nose with a sleeve and bit back the urge to let last night’s dinner see the light of day again, ushering the doctor’s worried coworkers away. It reeked of illness. It reeked of plague. The skeleton, being the only one without lungs and hence immune to all airborne diseases, made his way through the mess of papers, vials and…patches of blood and hair…to the form bent over his friend’s table. Kraz was staring straight at him with their big, beady dark eyes which seemed to be glazed over. They looked even paler than they usually do, which is to say whiter than snow, and seemed so frail that they could snap at any moment. Their face was also swimming in what seemed to be bloodied spit, over a mountain of papers scribbled with words that made no sense. Suffice to say, they looked like death itself. They looked dead.

It was as if Gaster’s bones were made of ice. Barely thinking, he grabbed his friend’s limp body, by Asgore were they TALL, and zapped away somewhere safe. Somewhere clean. His place, apparently.

He cleaned Kraz. Changed them. Laid them in bed. Listened to their delirious babbles, relieved that at least they were alive. In a moment of clarity, the doctor pleaded him to retrieve some instruments from their lab and conduct a series of tests on samples of their blood, which he was urged to collect daily.

“I need to help them Dings. Please. Please, I beg of you, do this for them. Or else I would have done this for nothing. Please.”

Eventually, the unthinkable happened. They got better, the little colour their cheeks normally had returned. As soon as the healer could walk again, they were out of their friend’s house and back in their lab (ignoring everyone’s admonishments). Barely a week later, there was a cure for the seemingly incurable plague.

Monsterkind was saved.

And everything was truly fine. Kraz was promoted to Royal Doctor (a fact they endlessly teased Gaster with, because Now you can’t boss me around anymore mister science man), was granted a whole department in the Hotland labs, and was now revered though the kingdom! Their promotion to head doctor was also accompanied by another, to the exclusive rank of “beloved special stupid idiot who gave themselves the plague” in the soul of a certain someone. They weren’t going to live that one down anytime soon. But well, when the royal scientist’s coworkers noticed that his lunch was packed daily in the common room fridge with “Do not forget nourishment today dear, I will see you tonight at our usual, -A stupid idiot “stuck to it, let’s say that the air in the Core labs was decidedly more pleasant. And Alphys, a young intern that the Doctor befriended during one of their numerous visits to their collaborator-friend-lover(?),  could barely contain her gushing to anyone that might listen.

Yes. Times were good.

Until a human fell.

[samarecharm]

My younger sister is playing the base p5