#i think the latter usually wins out in the end

[yunwangja]

undercurrents | signal no. 17

masterlist

"i’m alisa. i was kuroo’s partner for his project."

you freeze. this is her. the girl from the date. your heart sinks as you picture them together, imagining all the worst possibilities.

did he leave his phone? why was she the one who picked up the call? is he still there? your mind begins to spiral, creating scenarios you can't control, each more painful than the last.

"oh," you manage to say, struggling to keep your voice steady. your throat feels tight, and your words come out slower than usual. "can i ask for kuroo?"

"uh, actually, kuroo left his phone here with me," she replies, "it’s a good thing you called - i couldn't open his phone on my own because it's password protected. i was thinking how to get it back to him. im at my place right now."

her place. your thoughts race, filling in the blanks with every worst-case scenario.

what does this mean? what the hell is happening? and what happened before this? and how could kuroo possibly accidentally leave his phone with her? the more you think about it, the harder it becomes to breathe.

"i can let his friends know," you force out, the words feeling heavy on your tongue. "they can come get it from you."

alisa agrees without hesitation, without ending the call, you quickly message the others, your fingers trembling slightly as you type.

after alisa says yes to the arrangement, you both settle to the conclusion that she'll call you back when she's arrived at the campus lobby where bo would be meeting her.

you sit in silence after the call ends, staring at your phone, thoughts swirling in your head. the quiet of your room seems louder now, every second stretching longer than it should.

where is kuroo right now? since she picked up the call at her place, was kuroo there before he left his phone? if they did, what did they do? does this mean he was that interested in her?

you try to shake off the uneasy thoughts, but they linger. you tell yourself not to jump to conclusions, but that’s easier said than done. your mind can’t help but imagine things of what might’ve happened after their date. it’s a battle between rationality and your emotions, and right now, the latter is winning.

then, your phone vibrates, pulling you out of your spiraling thoughts. kuroo's name appear on the caller id, and you assume it's alisa calling back, just as she promised.

“hello?” you answer, your voice a bit shaky but still composed.

“hey, i’m in the campus lobby,” alisa says. “bokuto isn’t here yet, but i’m sure he’ll be along soon.”

“thanks for letting me know.”

the silence stretches for a moment. it feels awkward, hanging between the two of you, and you can’t help but feel like you should say something - anything - to fill the void.

you fidget with your fingers, unsure of what to talk about. after all, you barely know this girl, and under any other circumstances, you wouldn’t be having this conversation at all.

alisa breaks the silence first. “so... are you and kuroo close?”

her question catches you off guard. “uh, yeah, i guess you could say that. we’ve known each other for a while.”

“that’s nice!" alisa replies, her tone friendly. “he’s been super focused on this project. it’s kept him really busy, huh?”

you nod again, though the weight of her words makes your chest feel tight. “yeah, he’s been juggling a lot.”

the conversation stalls again, leaving you with your thoughts. you’ve known kuroo’s been busy, but hearing it from her, someone who's been spending that time with him, feels like a punch in the gut. you hesitate before asking, “where is he, by the way?”

“oh, he didn’t say,” alisa responds casually. “he just told me he had to go and left. i noticed his phone when he was gone already, and i was going to chase after him but it was too late...”

you thought nothing suspicious about her answer, but nothing that assured you that nothing happened between them. the quiet between you both stretches again, heavy and uncomfortable, and you find yourself scrambling for something else - anything - to fill the silence.

“how’s the project been for you guys?” you ask, trying to make small talk.

“oh, it went really well!” she says brightly. “we worked hard, but it all paid off. i think kuroo was really happy with how it turned out.”

you try to smile at her words, but your curiosity is eating away at you. you feel the urge to ask more, even though a part of you is scared of what the answers might be.

your thoughts drift back to earlier, to the idea of them spending time together after their date, and your stomach knots with unease. but you have to know, even if the answer hurts.

desperate to distract yourself from the silence and your spiraling thoughts, you finally blurt out, “so... did you guys have a good time?”

it feels like a casual question, but the weight behind it is unmistakable to you.

alisa chuckles softly, "oh, it was nice. he’s really sweet, isn’t he?"

you force a smile, even though she can’t see it. the words feel like a punch to the gut, as if someone else is confirming how amazing kuroo is. "yeah, he is."

there’s a brief pause, and the silence returns uncomfortably. your mind is racing as you struggle to keep the conversation going.

"i’m glad you were with him while he was so busy. as i said earlier, he seems to take on a lot by himself." you say, trying to fill the void, but the words come out weaker than you intended.

"he really does," alisa agrees, her voice light, as if she’s completely unaware of the storm raging inside you. "we ended up spending a lot of time together because of it. it’s been fun. and he really knows how to make you feel at ease, doesn’t he?"

the words twist in your gut, and you have to bite your lip to keep from letting out a sound of distress. you know exactly what she means. you’ve felt it too; the way kuroo can make you feel seen and heard.

and now, to hear someone else describe it, to know that she experienced it too, feels like a betrayal, even though you know it’s not.

"yeah," you manage to say. "he’s always been good at that."

the conversation drags on, each passing moment feeling like a slow unraveling of everything you thought you knew. your heart sinks deeper, weighed down by the uncertainty, the fear that maybe you’re too late. the realization that someone else has shared in those moments with him, that she knows things about him you might never know, is almost too much to bear.

"i’m happy you guys enjoyed your date," you say, trying to sound normal, but there’s a slight tremor in your voice.

alisa laughs again, this time with more amusement. "he told you it was a date too, huh?"

you blink, caught off guard by her response. "wasn’t it?"

"no, not really," alisa explains, her tone light as if it’s no big deal. "i just asked him out to coffee because of the success of our project, nothing more. he thought it was a date until he thanked me and mentioned it. so i cleared things up."

you don’t know what to say, the relief washing over you in waves, but mingling with confusion. before you can ask what happened after, alisa interrupts.

"oh, bokuto’s here," she says, her tone signaling the end of the conversation. "i’ll give him the phone. thanks a lot,"

"okay," you reply, still dazed, your mind racing with all the things you didn’t get to say or ask. bo takes the phone and tells you everything’s good, but his words barely register. you nod, barely listening, too caught up in your own thoughts.

you’re left with a thousand questions, but no answers. you want to know more, to ask her what happened next, but you guess you won’t get to know anymore.

did they talk about you? was kuroo relieved when she clarified it wasn’t a date, or was he disappointed? the uncertainty gnaws at you, leaving you with nothing but doubts.

all of a sudden, there’s a knock on your bedroom door. your heart jumps into your throat. you hesitate, then get up to answer it. you bid bo goodbye on the other line and end the call as you approach closer.

maybe it was one of your roommates checking up on your or asking for an update about what has happened. you wondered who it might be as you opened the door.

and there he was.

kuroo, breathless and panting, his hair slightly disheveled as if he ran the whole way. his eyes lock onto yours, wide with urgency.

"kuroo," you begin, confused. "what are you doing-"

"i want you, y/n."

notes

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

next signal will be LOADED also bc we will see kuroo's pov !!

idk if this was a long update or not (than usual) but yeah

i had to edit this a lot of times bc i had to make sure that everything would be laid out well

taglist: @lvtilzs @rarararararq @iamfontenlos @kurooswifeyy @secretsunsetsociety @kagsnumnine @yumiecheesecrackers @tojirin @jaynawayna @noxva08 @zahrawr-writes-fanfics @mawenskiblue @smellysluna @cccccccccccleo @winniethepooh-lover @akirqx @cupidsblonde @kukkurookkoo@emotiandon @urslytherin

[dangerliesbeforeyou]

writing a queer themed story idea is always hard cos i wrestle with my desire to make a super tragic but thematically satisfying ending vs my desire for my gay ocs to have a happy ending.... it's a struggle honestly lol

[unproduciblesmackdown]

reading the end of hiagb made me realize that when following along live i'd read a lot more of it than i thought and it's fun that it's overarchingly how a nut and a bug launched into space b/c of being sick of the world & into a temple at the edge of time & not-actually-infinite versions of themselves re: every [alternate timeline based on different choices/possibilities] can coexist in the same world with every bug tasked w/launching every nut back to the temple for reasons re: maintaining things and all the looping is disrupted by one bug who dated their nut and another bug whose quantum leap error was rectified by being teleported into another nut. the One System Error in an iterative process, one organic Idk Things Just Went Differently This Time As They Always Could've But Maybe Otherwise Virtually Never Did And That's Enough "that's / [one is] all it takes" vs "it's all the same / what's the diff" loops. no rules

[hairyjocktf]

Building a New Life

Justin was the star wrestler at his high school. He had won regional titles and the adoration of all the local families for years, and was ready to head to college to continue his streak. Senior year he was at his peak, winning matches left and right. All he had to do was wait for those recruitment offers to roll in. He waited and waited, still kicking ass in his wrestling, but while everyone around him was committing and getting accepted, there were no letters to him. To his dismay, one never came. His plans for the future were shattered, what was he supposed to do now? The wrestling scholarship was his only shot for college.

With the year ending and not many options, Justin started looking for entry level jobs that would take him. He lived in a fairly rural area so most of what he found was either farm work or construction, and the latter paid better. He called one of them up and they told him to swing by the site a few days later. He drove out to the construction site later that week and walked into the mobile office they had there. The manager came out to greet him. He was a rugged man in his late 40’s, with a stocky build and thick stubble. He’d clearly been in the business for years and it showed through his worn hands and gruff voice from yelling orders at his lackeys. The man looked Justin up and down.

“A little scrawny but I can work with it,” he said after a few seconds.

“I was a top wrestler in the region!” Justin protested. 

“Doesn’t matter in this industry,” the man said flatly. “Can you handle heavy loads and equipment? Can you deal with being outside most of the day in rough weather?”

Justin was caught off guard, usually people were much nicer to him. “Of course I can! I can handle whatever you throw at me,” he assured.

“Well alright, If you think you can handle it let’s see how you do here,” the manager said, handing a pile of clothes to Justin. “Here’s your safety and HiVis gear, make sure it fits and then we’ll get you set up outside.”

Justin took his uniform to the bathroom to try it on real quick. It included a hard hat that was adjustable, which he fit to his head, a bright orange and yellow HiVis vest, and a couple other things. He put it all on and stepped back into the office. 

“Alright follow me, Justin was it?” the manager gestured towards the door.

“Yes sir,” Justin responded uncharacteristically.

“Name’s Blaine, the manager revealed, “Around here we usually work on residential projects, we’re currently assisting on a development outside of town.” He led them away from the office around the immediate site, which currently seemed to be mostly used as storage for equipment and materials. “Since you’ve got no experience you’ll start by shadowing some of our guys for a few weeks and handling more basic tasks til you’re ready for more,” he continued. “You can head back to the office and they'll take care of the nitty gritty for ya. I’m expecting great things from you, wrestler,” Blaine laughed as he left Justin and headed out towards the development. Justin heard his gruff voice booming in the distance as he barked orders to the workers.

Justin was unsure about all of this, but he didn’t really have a better option at the moment. He felt out of place in his new safety gear, and he was younger than nearly everyone he saw working. He took care of the paperwork and headed home for the day; they'd hired him on the spot to start the next morning. With considerable unease, he went to bed, closing one chapter of his life for the next. 

As the weeks went by Justin began acclimating to this new job fairly well. He got to know the guys he worked with, learned how to use the equipment, and began to feel comfortable on the site. He even felt like he had put on some mass to better handle all the physical work he was doing. His rock solid abs were a little less visible than they had been but for some reason that didn’t bother him. He was already starting to forget the sting of not being recruited for wrestling. Every day he came into work those past dreams seemed to fade a little more, replaced by his new life. His coworkers had made fun of him for having such a baby face at the beginning, but now he was starting to sport a little bit of stubble. Justin was slowly starting to blend in more with his new crowd.

The months continued to pass, with Justin becoming more and more entrenched in his new construction life. It was getting colder outside, and his body began to adjust without him even noticing. His stubble grew out into a real beard, short and dense. He began packing on more body fat as he spent less and less time at the gym and more and more working and drinking with his new bros. His voice began to sound a little deeper and rougher, matching those around him. The hard hat really suited him now with his more rugged looks. He had never been a good student in school but he seemed to really be taking to this new job, completely forgetting about his old goals. The occassional approving nod from Blaine was driving him forward. He was thriving in this new position, but the job wasn’t done with him yet.

Unbeknownst to Justin, under his thick winter clothes things were changing. His previously toned body, while still fairly muscular, was steadily becoming thicker with fat. Not only that, but he’d always been near perfectly smooth and that too was slowly changing. It had started with his chest, where on the previously bare skin thin wispy hairs had started to poke out. That didn’t last long though, as they were quickly overrun with thicker, darker hairs that began sprouting in between his pecs. They grew curly as they spread out, covering his entire chest in hair, spreading up across his collarbone and down across his slowly growing stomach. The new hairy coat was just another part of his insulation against the harsh winter weather. But the hairs didn’t stop there either. His pits erupted with thick wiry hairs, coating his underarms in curly hairs that trapped both heat and sweat. The hairs pushed out, tangling together as they formed a thick tuft of hair under each arm, even spreading out to connect with the rug on his chest. After each day of hard work he’d come home stinking like the other men he worked with, and over time he started to enjoy the musk he produced.

Of course he wasn’t done filling out his uniform quite yet. His formerly modest bush began growing with no end in sight, engulfing his groin in thick, wiry brown hairs that radiated out from his lengthening cock. Sometimes while on the site Justin would instinctively reach down in his pants to itch the growing bush, the feeling and texture of it driving him wild. With pubes erupting day and night his musk only grew stronger, as Justin began to truly have a manly aura around him that he’d never had before. It seemed to help him bond with the other guys more, as they welcomed him into their groups and invited him out more and more frequently. Underneath his work pants his legs bulked up considerably from carrying all sorts of materials around, followed closely by the same dark fur. It raced down his legs and coated them with curly hairs that rubbed against the inside of his increasingly tight jeans as he walked around, an almost arousing feeling. Within the first year of working Justin had gone up four sizes in his work boots, as his feet grew and widened to match the rest of him. The massive steel-toed boots hid how hairy his feet had gotten, with dark hairs covering the tops and toes.

The next year was largely the same. Justin continued slowly changing to better fit his new job. He was really beginning to excel at it, and he’d attained a close friendship with many of the men he worked with. It almost seemed as if he’d aged ten years over the last one, he certainly looked it at this point. His fur coat only thickened, growing even denser across his chest and stomach to the point you could barely see the skin beneath the hairs. Hair had also spread up and onto his shoulders before enveloping his massive back. The hairs gushed out across his shoulder blades before shooting down his spine and spreading out wide. The heavy coating slowly grew thicker and spread out further as time went on, reaching down to his ass. It too became covered with thick, dark hairs as it inflated to a truly massive size. During the warmer months sometimes he just wore his vest and hard hat, his incredibly thick hair covering the rest of him and sticking through his vest.

Justin earned the nickname ‘Grizzly’ from his coworkers after they saw how hairy he’d gotten, and his body had put on the size to match. Gone was the small but toned body of a wrestler, replaced by a thick, hairy, and sturdy body of a weathered construction worker. He oozed masculinity from not only his stained and dirty work clothes, but from the thick chest hair that he left his shirt open to show off. His entire body was now coated with a dense coat of hair and he liked to make that known, as long as he wasn’t caught against safety regulations at least. He never questioned why he’d changed so much in such a short span, it never even occurred to him, and honestly he liked his new life. He was just one of the guys working on the site now. The hair felt as natural to him as anything else, and the other guys seemed to like it even if they made fun of him once in a while. Occasionally when they went out drinking some of the guys would have too many beers and start rubbing their hands through his thick fur, but he didn’t mind at all. It felt good to be masculine, and to be appreciated for it by other guys. Months continued to pass though no one could really remember how long Justin had been working there at this point, but they were all glad he was there. He was the best construction worker on their team.

[haikyu-mp4]

Media presence

word count; 649 – gn!reader, can you tell I love a manager!reader?

“Your lack of social media presence is simply unacceptable,” you said, trying to be stern even though your mind was thinking of what you wanted to have for dinner later. “Will you please work with me on this?” Being a PR manager for MSBY Black Jackals tested your patience every day, but Sakusa wasn’t usually your biggest problem.

However, the senior managers had started to pester you about his lack of presence.

Sakusa had one leg crossed over the other, hands interlaced and resting on his thigh as his eyes bore into you from above the face mask he almost always had on. He took a long breath, seeming to prepare for a whole discussion, but all he said in the end was “No.”

You stared at him with the tip of your pen resting on the notebook you had open on your desk, blinking as you registered his word. His one word. “I see. I do love these meetings with you, Sakusa. They’re so rewarding.” you kept mumbling sarcastically, finally moving your hand to write down some thoughts you had. The pen was pushing just a little too hard into the paper, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care at the moment.

While you weren’t looking, a small smile fell on Sakusa’s face from your visible frustration. Not that you would have seen it anyway, but he was always worried that his eyes were simply not as cold as he wished they were when he talked to you. “I feel the same way,” he said. It made you bite the inside of your lip, wondering if there was something behind his words or if he meant it sarcastically like you. The safest option was to assume the latter. You finally turn your swivel chair back towards him, holding out a piece of paper you ripped from the notebook.

“I wrote some options. If we make a contract with set demands, you can demand something in return,” you suggest. You were a promising manager for sure, with a sharp brain and an attractive way with words. Maybe that’s why Sakusa was so infatuated with you despite never making a move. “For example, you could get an extra paid lunch break in exchange for posting daily on your Instagram story.”

Sakusa looked at the list after taking it from you without touching your hand. He slowly nodded. “I’ll think about it.” His agreement to consider it made you smile wider, doing a quick little victory dance. Sakusa frowned, but only because he enjoyed it so much that it annoyed him.

“Wonderful! Maybe I can finally get the seniors off my back for wasting such a pretty face,” you say, focusing more on your work than the words that actually tumbled out of your mouth.

“Thank you,” he said, and this time you could hear the smug smile in his voice. Clearly, he spent too much time with Atsumu.

“Their words, not mine.” you try to defend, squinting at him like it’s a challenge.

“Mm. How disappointing,” he said, finally scooting the uncomfortable chair back so he could get up. Your gaze follows him, trying desperately to fumble for a way to win this.

“You’re always wearing that mask anyways, how would I know,” you say, raising an eyebrow.

The proud moment is punctured though, when Sakusa slowly turns his head to the huge Black Jackals poster hanging to your right where his face is in the front with no mask on. He turns back to you, mirroring your raised eyebrow. “You were saying?”

“Get out,” you say, barely holding back your laughter at the stupid interaction, hoping your cheeks didn’t look as warm as they felt.

“See you around.”

“I wish you wouldn’t.” That was a lie, but neither of you needed to point that out. You both knew it was. For now, it could stay as an unspoken thing.

part 1 ║ part 2 ║ part 3 (final part) ║ headcanons ║ masterlist

[goosita]

attending a gala with young!politician!snow is both more and less terrifying than you’d imagined

he’d picked you up at 7pm on the dot, waiting outside of his car for you. coriolanus was dressed in all black, a departure from his usual red color palette. the moment you’d stepped outside to meet him in the dress and shoes (as well as necklace) he bought you, he’d smiled charmingly at you and offered his hand.

“you look absolutely enchanting, miss y/n,” he breathed, tone full of sincerity. you could feel your cheeks blaze at his compliment, giving a timid grin.

“thank you, coryo.”

coriolanus brightened even more, opening the back door of the car with his free hand and keeping you steady with the other as you slid in. he followed just after you, settling in beside you on the seat. now here you were, on the way to a big fancy party full of people who made more money in an hour than you did in a whole year.

“are you nervous?” he asks, glancing at you.

“absolutely terrified,” you admit with a soft laugh. “i’ve never been to anything like this. i don’t want to do or say the wrong thing.”

“you’ll be fine, i promise. just follow my lead, and it’ll be over before you know it.”

you nod, but still can’t force down all of your nerves. aside from this whole event being unfamiliar to you, you’re still jittery and unsure with coriolanus. he’s been so hard to read lately. you’re not sure if he’s just toying with you, but it feels too bold to think that perhaps he has a real interest in you either. too indulgent of your daydreams, your fantasies. you can’t seem to stop the fluttery drumming of your fingers against your thigh, until coriolanus is taking your hand and sliding his fingers between yours to stop their incessant tapping. your gaze snaps up to look at him, surprised by the touch.

“everything’s going to be okay. trust me,” he says gently, giving your hand a soft squeeze. for someone who’s last name is snow, his hands are so warm. his thumb brushes over your knuckles soothingly, looking down at you with a calm expression, and you nod. you do trust him. he adds, “i’ll be right beside you all evening.”

his promise makes you feel better, some of the tension leaving your body at both his words and his soothing touch. you glance down at your interlocked hands, his so much bigger than your own. his fingers are so long, pale and beautiful as if they were carved from marble. the veins along the top stand out, raised little rivers of blue that crawl up into his sleeve. his silver watch band rests against the delicate skin of both of your inner wrists.

once you arrive, it feels like a whirlwind of colors and lights and sounds. you find yourself dissociating from most of it, from the moment coriolanus leads you inside with a hand at the small of your back. you try to focus on the way his cologne catches your nose when he turns or moves, the familiar scent helping to ground you. the event passes in a flurry of coriolanus’s voice chatting pleasantly with Very Important Men, fond introductions of you at his side by your name and never your job title, being handed flutes of posca that you only sip on here and there. your date, however, seems to have no trouble at all socializing and sharing drinks with these people.

he’s a natural people-person. coriolanus charms and wins over just about every person he speaks to. the men respect him and listen to what he has to say, while the women giggle and let their eyes wander his face and body. you don’t like that the latter bothers you enough to sling back an entire flute of posca at one point while some district 8 office holder’s wife practically undresses coriolanus with her eyes. if he notices the female attention at all, he doesn’t show it. coriolanus simply keeps one hand planted firmly along your spine, occasionally stroking the exposed skin there softly.

finally, finally, the night comes to an end. coriolanus is loose from the bubbly drinks he’s had, making him a bit more smiley than you’re really used to. his cheeks are flushed a pretty pink that spreads over the bridge of his nose and makes him glow.

“did you have fun, darling?” he asks as he gets into the car with you. while he waits for an answer, he fumbles until he finds the button that raises the privacy screen between you two and the driver.

“fun is…certainly a word,” you offer, unable to stop your grin. coriolanus seems younger like this, spine less rigid and jaw less tense. he looks his age right now, you realize.

“hm. yes, well, i don’t have much real fun these days,” he laments, undoing his tie and shrugging off his suit jacket. “especially not with a beautiful lady on my arm.”

he glances sideways at you as he says it, sly smirk making his smile line in his cheek stand out. you resist the urge to reach out and touch it, instead looking down at your hands in your lap. you never know what exactly to say when coriolanus says things like that. you’re not sure if he’s being sincere, or if it’s just meaningless flirting to him.

he says your name softly when you avert your eyes, gingerly lifting your chin. “look at me, darling,” he whispers. he’s turned his body to face you fully now. his eyes search your face for a long moment before they trail down, landing on the snowflake pendant resting between your collarbones. his finger trails a path down your throat before tracing around the charm.

“it suits you,” he murmurs. the air in the car is suddenly so very warm, electric with the energy between the two of you. he’s so close to you, you wonder if he can hear your heart racing right now. if he knows its because of him.

“coryo,” you exhale, breath trembling slightly. you feel his touch again against your cheek, cradling it softly in his palm. his eyes seem to almost glow in the low light, the streetlights you pass making them appear almost translucent when they reflect off his irises. you both lean in simultaneously, eyes fluttering closed.

the first brush of coriolanus’s lips is soft, curious even. as if he’s giving you the chance to push him away. instead, you sigh and melt into him. his free hand comes to rest on your waist, squeezing softly as he kisses you more firmly when you don’t pull away. his mouth is plush and slick against your own, tasting like the sugary posca he’d drank.

you lose yourself to his kisses, slow and languid and indulgent, making you dizzy with how good it feels. coriolanus slides his hand down from your waist to your hip, then further down to tease at the slit in your dress that splits over your thigh. his teeth nip at your lip playfully, and he smiles against your mouth when you gasp at the way his fingers curl behind your knee to hitch your leg up over his own.

he encourages you to move so you can straddle him, sitting pretty in your silky dress on his lap. your hands land on his broad shoulders while his lips parts from yours, pressing hot, open-mouth kisses along your neck. his tongue drags along the side of your throat, making you shiver and moan softly.

“there’s a good girl,” he mutters, hands smoothing up and down your thighs that splay over his. “you make such pretty sounds for me.”

coriolanus’s words make you feel lightheaded, paired with his wandering touch and exploratory kisses. you shift in his lap just slightly, gasping softly when you feel how hard he is beneath you. his cock presses into the apex of your thighs, his hips pushing up subtly. he lets out a quiet groan, the hottest sound you’ve ever heard. the uncontrolled noise spurs you on, gives you the nerve to cup his jaw and bring his mouth back to yours and demand more of his heated kisses.

“stay with me tonight, my darling,” he pleads, panting against your mouth.

“yes.”

[kurikive]

MINECRAFT — 12. newjeans killed me in minecraft

▶️ play !

The video starts with Y/N jumping into the frame of the main camera, five figures slowly emerge from the row of monitors behind her with barely audible giggles.

“TODAY! We’re playing Minecraft.” The girl turns to look at the left right camera, “And by ‘we’, I mean me and some special guests.” Y/N steps out of frame and the five figures, who had their backs facing the camera, turn to show themselves with a very unsynchronized jump.

“Hello! We’re NewJeans!” They yell in-between laughter. A close up of Y/N laughing from the left camera shows up on screen.

“I heard you guys are good at Minecraft.” Y/N comments, making the five girls look at her, followed by a couple of ‘Yes!’es.

“I’m just okay!” Danielle says out of the blue, which makes Y/N and a couple of other member laugh loudly.

“Let’s put that to the test, shall we?”

A transition cuts to a old-school fighter character catalog-like presentation of the members, their users and their skins, starting with Y/N’s

PLAYER 0: Koo Y/N (90wesung)

PLAYER 1: Kim Minji (njmj_04)

PLAYER 2: Pham Hanni (hankillz)

PLAYER 3: Danielle Marsh (BuildMasterMDN)

PLAYER 4: Kang Haerin (HR06CRAFT)

PLAYER 5: Lee Hyein (GraciouslyMining)

“hankillz is crazy, by the way.” Playful banter already starts from the first minutes of the video. Hanni laughs from a few seats to Y/N’s left. “You’re playing Build Battle with that name.”

“Hey! At least I’m not BuildMaster!” Hanni looks at Danielle from across the rows of PCs, who just smiles proudly at her username choice. “I think it describes me pretty well!”

“Anyways, as you’ve heard. We’re playing Build Battle!” The video pauses and a little green screen cutout of Y/N's character Widdung appears from the bottom of the frame.

"But before we do that, let me explain the rules!" The little alien cat starts talking (it's just Y/N's voice pitched up), "The NewJeans members are competing for a prize. The competition will be divided into three rounds. Build Battle, Bedwars, and the Final Hunger Games."

"The member that accumulates the most points from the first two rounds will battle with Y/N on a 1v1 Minecraft Hunger Games battle! If said member wins, she wins a box of expensive beef! If Y/N wins..." There's a moment of silence when the little character looks around, "Well, they get the beef anyways as a trophy for their efforts!"

Widdung smiles and jumps cartoonishly, "Let's begin!"

TIME SKIP -> END OF ROUND

1ST PLACE: DANIELLE (100 pts)

2ST PLACE: HYEIN (93 pts)

3RD PLACE: MINJI (79 pts)

4TH PLACE: Y/N (72 pts)

5TH PLACE: HAERIN (65 pts)

6TH PLACE: HANNI (60 pts)

"As expected from Build Master Mo Dani!" Hyein says while looking at Danielle with a proud smile, the latter looking shocked, a whimsical sound effect enhancing the depth of her surprise.

"Wha- I LOST?!" Hanni was also shocked, but in the opposite context. Her disappointment was overshadowed by the pure disbelief in her expression, amused at the way she got the lowest ranking.

"At least I'm not last." Said Haerin with a teasing smirk, rubbing the loss on Hanni's face. "Hey, Kang Haerin!" Hanni nagged at the younger, "Let's see about that next round!"

"As long as no SpongeBob characters are in the next round, you'll be fine I think." Minji teases, as usual.

"It's really hard to make stars in Minecraft, OKAY?!"

"Respectfully, you literally built a pink block." Y/N joins in on the tormenting of the girl, "You almost made pink SpongeBob, and the theme was Patrick..."

"I'll get my revenge..."

TIME SKIP -> END OF SECOND ROUND

1ST PLACE: DANIELLE (95 pts) TOTAL PTS: 195

2ST PLACE: Y/N (90 pts) TOTAL PTS: 162

3RD PLACE: HYEIN (80 pts) TOTAL PTS: 173

4TH PLACE: HAERIN (79 pts) TOTAL PTS: 144

5TH PLACE: MINJI (71 pts) TOTAL PTS: 150

6TH PLACE: HANNI (68 pts) TOTAL PTS: 128

"Danielle, literally, how are you winning?!" Hanni said with a twinge of frustration. "I can't leave the 60's!"

"This is my forte!" The younger smiled proudly at the other Australian, but it suddenly fades, "My only forte, actually. I'm cooked in Bedwars."

The comment makes Y/N laugh and the camera pans to her, "Hey! Have some confidence, girl!" She says in between laughter. "There's another round left!"

TIME SKIP -> END OF SECOND ROUND

1ST PLACE: DANIELLE (98 pts) TOTAL PTS: 293

2ST PLACE: HYEIN (92 pts) TOTAL PTS: 265

3RD PLACE: Y/N (91 pts) TOTAL PTS: 253

4TH PLACE: HANNI (85 pts) TOTAL PTS: 213

5TH PLACE: HAERIN (80 pts) TOTAL PTS: 224

6TH PLACE: MINJI (78 pts) TOTAL PTS: 228

"I TOLD YOU I WAS GETTING MY REVENGE!" Hanni jumps from her seat, startling the rest of the girls. "Suck on that!" She says mindlessly, making her immediately cover her mouth and blush, "Sorry, I didn't mean to say that."

The younger members and most staff had no idea what she had said and paid no mind to it, while the older girls tried their best to hold down their laughs and Hanni tried to mask her embarrassment.

"You still have the least points overall, bro." Minji pointed out, and Hanni's shame quickly morphed into disappointment.

"You can still twist the plot, Hanni." Y/N suddenly looks directly at the camera, deepened her voice and- "In Bedwars..."

The atmosphere turned cold until the girls exploded in laughter at Y/N's chaotic fail at an intimidating horror movie trailer voice. The latter could only chuckle. "At least they found it funny..." She mutters.

TIME SKIP -> BEDWARS ROUND 1 RESULTS

6TH: DANIELLE | 0 KILLS + first to die (10 pts) | TOTAL PTS: 303

5TH: HYEIN | 2 KILLS + bed destroyed (35 pts) | TOTAL PTS: 300

4TH: HAERIN | 3 KILLS + bed destroyed (55 pts) | TOTAL PTS: 274

3RD: HANNI | 6 KILLS + bed safe + killed by minji (100 pts) | TOTAL PTS: 313

2ND: MINJI | 9 KILLS + bed destroyed + killed by hanni (145 pts) | TOTAL PTS: 373

1ST: Y/N | 13 KILLS + bed safe + killed by minji (240 pts) | TOTAL PTS: 493

"Hello?! Why is Y/N almost in at 500 points already?!" Hanni complains, "Probably because we're playing with a professional, Hanni." Minji defends.

"Oh wow! Maybe not professional but I am pretty good!"

"You do this for a living, Ms. Satellite." Minji teases.

"Hate that! Never say that again." The camera focuses on Y/N's disgusted expression, and both girls laugh from beside each other.

Haerin, who was still at 200 points for some reason, suddenly speaks, "I need to lock in..." She says quietly, making Hanni laugh.

TIME SKIP -> BEDWARS ROUND 2 RESULTS

6TH: DANIELLE | 3 KILLS + bed destroyed (55 pts) | TOTAL PTS: 358

5TH: HYEIN | 7 KILLS + bed destroyed + killed by hanni (105 pts) | TOTAL PTS: 405

4TH: HAERIN | 8 KILLS + bed destroyed (155 pts) | TOTAL PTS: 429

3RD: HANNI | 9 KILLS + bed destroyed + killed by haerin (145 pts) | TOTAL PTS: 458

2ND: MINJI | 11 KILLS + bed destroyed + killed by y/n (185 pts) | TOTAL PTS: 558

1ST: Y/N | 12 KILLS + bed destroyed + killed by hanni (205 pts) | TOTAL PTS: 698

"Hanni unnie, I'm coming for you." Haerin had an evil smirk on her face that shocked Danielle, who was beside her.

"Keep trying, kid." The older responded, but inside she was scared of being dethroned, reflected in the video by a close up to her nervous face and an edited sweat drop falling down Hanni's face.

"The gap in points is insane, I am so sorry Danielle." Said an apologetic Y/N, but the younger girl brushed off her apologies coolly.

"I saw this coming, unnie. Do not apologize." Danielle smiled at the older, "I'm proud enough of my Build Master title."

"NEXT ROUND!" A tense Hyein in 5th place said.

TIME SKIP -> BEDWARS ROUND 3 RESULTS

6TH: DANIELLE | 5 KILLS + bed destroyed (95 pts) | TOTAL PTS: 453

5TH: HYEIN | 10 KILLS + bed destroyed + killed by danielle (165 pts) | TOTAL PTS: 570

4TH: HAERIN | 10 KILLS + bed safe + killed by hyein (180 pts) | TOTAL PTS: 609

3RD: HANNI | 12 KILLS + bed destroyed + killed by minji (205 pts) | TOTAL PTS: 690

2ND: MINJI | 14 KILLS + bed destroyed + killed by y/n (245 pts) | TOTAL PTS: 803

1ST: Y/N | 13 KILLS + bed safe + killed by hanni (240 pts) | TOTAL PTS: 930

"Can I say something about how this is so crazy?" Hyein says, "Minji unnie was horrible at Bedwars, like, a week ago."

"Yeah, are we sure she's not using cheats?" Danielle joins in.

"Bro, I swear, I don't know how she did it but she actually improved." Hanni defends honestly.

The camera pans to Minji, saying nothing but a suspicious smile on her face, being the only one who knew the reason for her sudden improvement was right next to her (she noticed from the start of the video and said nothing).

"Are you confident, Minji?" Y/N asks her final rival.

"I'm... yeah." She sounded oddly uncertain, "Yeah! I am!" She tried again, but everyone was already dumbfounded at her lack(?) of drive.

"I won't go easy on you if you were wondering."

"I wasn't."

TIME SKIP -> HUNGER GAMES 1V1 RESULTS

DURATION: 10 minutes, MINJI WIN!

Screen shows an extremely shocked Y/N. She was actually planning to go easy on Minji at first, but then she almost got killed at minute 3 by the latter and decided to actually play. Even then, Minji hunted her down relentlessly, leaving Y/N no choice but to surrender.

"My prize, please!" A smug smile appeared on Minji's face while her members cheered behind her. The scene cuts to Y/N slowly looking up at the camera with the same shocked expression she was left in.

The girls clears her throat after accepting her defeat, "Sorry. Let me get your beef." Y/N gets up from her seat and walks out of frame, Minji's eyes widened and her jaw drop.

"BEEF?!" The cheers of the other girls grew even louder at the mention of the prize, even when they themselves hadn't won it (Minji was going to share it with them anyways).

Y/N walks back into frame with the huge box in her arms, "Here you go! A win is a win!"

Minji and the girls looked astonished at the sheer size of the box, no less at the quantity of meat inside of it. None of them dare ask how much it cost, "Wow!" The five of them say in unison, and Y/N chuckles in adoration.

"Thank you so much!" Minji says as she receives the gift into her arms, she makes an inside note to ask a question to Y/N after the cameras stop rolling. "We- I'll eat this well!"

"Oh, absolutely!" Y/N says with a smile on her face, "Thank you guys so much for taking the time to join me today!"

"We're so grateful we got to play with you!" Danielle suddenly goes up to Y/N and shakes her hand, the older laughing at the sudden gesture.

"Oh! No, no! It's my pleasure to have you guys here!"

"I love your videos!" Haerin then says from beside Minji, "I'm subscribed to your channel!" She confesses all of a sudden.

"Wait, really? Oh, wow! Thank you!" Overwhelmed by the stream of praise and confessions, Y/N chuckles shyly while the rest of the girls line up to also shake her hand. She receives their compliments with a formal bow.

"We should play together again!" Hanni suggests, "I'll get my actual revenge next time!"

"I'm sure you will!" Y/N laughs at her own teasing, "I think it's time to wrap up. Thank you guys again for joining me today, and thank you guys," She faces the cameras, "for watching and joining us too!"

"Subscribe to isatellite!" Hyein says unanticipatedly and her members laugh.

"Thank you, Hyein!" Y/N pats the girls on the shoulder when she blushes with the regret of her own sudden actions, "Make sure to like, subscribe, and support NewJeans. They're social media and latest release will be linked in the description, but I'm sure you're already streaming it!" She jokes.

"Bye guys!" The six girls say in unison, and Y/N's outro plays. A cartoon Widdung on the side of Y/N's recommended videos to the sound of Right Now's instrumental.

27 minutes and 42 seconds, the screen fades to black.

🎥 replay ? ⁠ﾐ⁠ ⟲

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[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 3 - You've Torn Your Dress

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: This one's the first of many doozies. I recommend you clock out now if you think the following will distress you: mentions of rape, but no scenes or explicit description. If not, read on! Chapter Title is from Rebel Rebel by David Bowie.

Word Count: 7.7k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Your first mission is delivered, and it goes about as expected. Contains usual tags, emphasis on mention of rape/non-con.

Read on A03!

Chapter 2 - Chapter 4

Want to be tagged? Just ask!

When your team stepped into the safe house, you could see the moment the smell hit their noses.

“Merde,” Frenchie was the first to speak, a poor omen within itself. “What the fuck am I smelling?”

“Uh, probably the milk and meat. They’re the strongest.”

Annie said your name carefully, watching your reaction as she spoke. “What happened.”

“He wouldn’t put away the groceries.” You said with a shrug. You were over it. It was like, ten bad things ago.

“So you just. Left them out?” Hughie said, seemingly baffled.

“Yeah.”

“Mallory said she delivered them on the first night.” Annie glanced between you and Hughie.

“She did.”

Hughie’s eyes widened further. “That was almost two weeks ago.” When you just nodded in agreement, he pushed further. “They’ve been out the whole time?”

You frowned. “He doesn’t get to win.”

“What are you, five?” 

You just sighed, giving Hughie a pleading look. “Don’t tell MM.”

“What?” Butcher taunted from the back of the group. “That he was right, and you can’t handle Soldier Boy?”

“I thought you were on my side about this.”

“I’m on the side of the truth, Love.”

Both you, Annie, and Frenchie let out huffs of amusement at that claim, with Hughie looking sheepishly amused.

“You can’t possibly believe that.” Annie gave Butcher a pointed look. He only winked in response, leaving her to turn back to you with an eye roll.

“Has it been like this,” Hughie gestured vaguely around him. “The whole time?”

“Nah. Worse.”

Really, hell would be a better word for it. After the knife incident, there had been the toilet paper incident, which you had won, the coffee incident, also your victory, the laundry incident, point Soldier Boy, the TV incident, point you, and the Lord of the Rings incident, another point Soldier Boy. The Elton John, Jimmy Carter, and Rockefeller Center incidents had ended in stalemates akin to the Cold War, but should those fuses reignite, you were sure you could take them home. Overall, you’d burned him seven times, he’d thrown two chairs at you, you tossed shit in his face once and threatened castration on fifteen separate occasions, and he had offered to sleep with you thirty-one times.

“He hasn’t, he hasn’t hurt you. Right?” Hughie wasn’t fully looking at you when he asked, his voice soft and nervous.

“No. I mean, he’s tried. Not in… that way, but I’ve had a few things thrown at me. All the physical violence died out around the laundry incident, though. Now we’re using psychological warfare.”

“Laundry incident?” Hughie said at the same time that Frenchie said, “Psychological warfare?”

“Don’t ask.” Was your response to both. You’d avoid revisiting the laundry incident in your mind for the rest of your life if you could help it, and the actual practice of your warfare was more childish than you’d like to admit.

“Well, as lovely as a reunion this has been, we need to talk to you both. Where’s the cunt,  anyway?" Butcher craned his neck to look down the hall.

“Probably moping around in his room.” You shrugged. “Let’s talk in the living room, standing at the door is weird.”

While the living room hadn’t taken even close to as much damage as the kitchen, it had not escaped you and Soldier Boy’s sparring unscathed. Books provided by the CIA, which were mostly stereotypical classics, had been upended from their shelves and strewn across the floor. The TV was still intact, as was the sofa, but the former was stuck on PBS, and the latter was, at this point, compromised of 70% trash.

“Holy shit,” Hughie muttered as he stepped over a copy of Catcher in the Rye. “You can’t plan on living like this the whole time?”

“Well, if America’s number one man-baby would stop moaning and bitching about his glory days, then maybe, yeah.”

Annie gave you a concerned look. “And if he doesn’t?”

“Then I’ll castrate him.” Though the threat had now been made sixteen times, it never satisfied you less to say it.

“I’ve told you, Sunshine, if you did that, you would only be hurting yourself.”

Everyone in the room fell silent, their eyes trained over you with tense gazes. You turned to find Soldier Boy almost directly behind you. “I’ve told you, by definition, I’d only be hurting you.”

He gave a mocking pout. “Wouldn’t that plague your perfect little conscious?”

“I’d live.”

“Bitch.”

“Cunt.”

“Prude.”

“Manwhore.”

“Whiny Brat.”

“Waste of space.”

“Waste of good pussy.”

“Waste of government money.”

“Waste of Compound V.”

“Pathetic, assfaced Dickwad.”

“Stuck up, pretentious Ice Queen.”

“Geriatric, entitled, blue-balled G.I. Joe Fuckdoll”

The room had practically vanished around you as you and Soldier Boy fell into your now well-tread path of insults. Your blood was burning with that feeling, aching to burst across the room as both of you glared hard enough to, fingers crossed, kill the other.

“Jesus Christ,” Hughie said, breaking you out of your own spell.

“What are they doing here?” Soilder Boy asked, somehow having only just clocked their presence. “Do I finally get to do my job and leave?”

“No,” Annie answered. “We have no way of knowing how long you’ll be here at this point.”

“That’s what I said,” you muttered under your breath, turning back to your team.

“Yeah,” Soldier Boy said at full volume. “And I don’t fucking trust you.”

“Will you get off my ass about it now?”

“I think you like me on your ass, Sunshine. My offer never leaves the table.”

“Cunt.”

“Bitch.”

“Helpless man-child.”

“Prissy tease.”

“Glorified propaganda poster-“

“No,” Annie cut it. “We’re not doing that again.”

“Party pooper,” Butcher grumbled. “I was hoping they’d kill each other this time. Then we could just go home.”

“Well, did you at least bring me drugs?” Soldier Boy seemed to search the room, as if a pile of weed and coke would miraculously appear on the floor amongst the mess of wrappers and fluid-filled paper towels.

“We’re not buying you drugs with government money.” Annie said, giving you a look of apology. “As I’m sure you’ve been told.”

“Many times,” you affirm under your breath. You’d had to hide the glue on day five, which had let to the toilet paper incident on day six. A day had not passed since where you didn’t catch him trying to turn a new household object into something to snort.

“I thought weed was fucking legal now.” Soldier Boy glared at you, as if you were personally responsible for the CIA not buying him blunts. “It’s a free fucking country. I should be able to smoke whenever I damn please.”

“Porn is legal,” you reply. “Doesn’t mean the federal government is going to bring you some.”

“If they brought me porn and weed, I’d be far more open to whatever shit you want from me.” He winked at you.

“We gave you that last time,” Hughie pointed out, shifting nervously. “It barely helped.”

“Will you be a good little supe if we come back with porn and weed? Because we can go and-“

“No, we need to do this now.” Annie spoke over Butcher, and you noticed a line of worry on her forehead, along with Hughie’s nervous fidgeting. Though Butcher didn’t seem plagued by an anxious tell, he relented to Annie faster than you’d ever seen, and alarm bells went off in your head.

“Annie,” you bit the bullet, asking softly. “What is the ‘this’ you need us for?”

She gave you an apologetic look. “Trial run.”

“Trial run?”

“We’re giving you a test, Love.” Butcher said with a smirk. “See if your little experiment is even viable. Maybe take out a player in the process. All depends on if you and him,” he jerked his head to Soldier Boy. “Do your jobs right.”

“I don’t need your little ‘test’ to know if I can do my job.” Soldier Boy snapped.

“Last time you failed,” Hughie muttered.

Frenchie nodded in agreement. “In a spectacular manner, yes.”

“Because that bitch and that pussy stopped me.” An angry scowl was thrown at Annie and Butcher, who returned it and grinned widely back respectively.

“You were going to kill a kid,” Annie said coldly.

“He shouldn’t have been in the line of fire.”

“The line of fire? Do you hear yourself? Do you really care about others so little that-“

“I’d do it again,” he snapped back, unbothered by Annie’s disgust. “You don’t get to ask me for help and get mad when I do.”

You gave Butcher a pointed look. “Aren’t you glad you listened to me?”

Though all you got in response was a grunt from Butcher, Soldier Boy’s eyes shot to you. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

You returned his glare, steeling your own eyes to match his interrogating gaze. “We’re removing the ‘kill a kid’ option from your choices. You want to know why we’re stuck here? Because you fucked it last time, and we won’t let you fuck up again.”

“You won’t let me?” He sneered, leering at you coldly. “You don’t let me do anything, Sunshine.”

If the “Sunshine” thing continued to stick, you might have to throw yourself off a roof. But you didn’t flinch, just tilting your head mockingly. “You wouldn’t need a shock collar if you hadn’t bit the hand.”

“I wouldn’t bite the hand if it hadn’t tried to kill me.”

“Nobody tried to kill you, Mate.” Butcher interjected. Soldier Boy’s anger switched back to him with fists curling at his side, but Butcher kept talking with a bored drawl. “You shouldn’t have bloody fucked up.”

“And, like I said,” you shrugged. “It won’t happen again.”

“If I see the shot, I’ll take it. Whether you like it or not.”

Looking into his eyes, you believed him. No doubt fogged your brain that, given the opportunity, Soldier Boy wouldn’t hesitate to take out Ryan Butcher with Homelander. Part of you, the angry and bitter part still trapped underground, understood that. But you’d see Ryan once, from afar, and he had looked so young. You didn’t have to imagine his fear or touch him to understand what it was like. For your life to change abruptly and without reason, to have to sprint to keep up with your new one. Soldier Boy had volunteered for this life. Ryan hadn’t. You hadn’t.

So, holding Soldier Boy’s gaze, you made your voice clear and steady. “You don’t get to take the shot until it’s clear. Ryan will be out of the picture before you even see Homelander.” You turned to Annie. “What’s the test?”

“Head-popper.” Butcher answered for Annie with an odd look at you. His voice carried the usual light and oddly joyful tone he used when discussing murdering supes, but his eyes on yours were quieter, with less manic vengeance than you’d seen before. If you didn’t know better, you’d call them thankful.

“Head-popper?”

Hughie jumped in at your confused frown. “Neuman.”

“Oh,” you paused, looking over Hughie’s worried face. “We’re going after Neuman?”

“Who the fuck is Neuman?” Soldier Boy asked with a reluctant grumble. You had picked up on his consistent annoyance with new things after you’d found him screaming at the microwave three days ago, and not knowing new people didn’t seem to be any different.

“She’s a supe who can pop people’s heads like balloons.” Frenchie gestured in imitation for effect. “It’s disgusting.”

“And she’s the VP elect, which would put an ally of Homelander in the White House, one step from the Oval Office.” Annie said pointedly, giving Frenchie a look. You offered him a small smile over her head. Though the demonstration hadn’t been helpful, watching his hands fly around mimicking Neuman’s powers was undeniably entertaining.

“She's dangerous,” Hughie added. “But she’s not a bad person. We don’t want to kill her, just remove her powers.”

“What do we need her for then?” You didn’t have to look to know Soldier Boy’s accusation was directed at you. You bit your tongue, trying to ignore the way the words seeped into your skin.

Because he’s right. A cruel whisper said into your ear, and the itch on your skin began to feel like a rash. You were saved from the plague of your thoughts—the urgent feeling to fall prompted by almost nothing—by Butcher.

“If you think you’re going anywhere without her, Governor, you’d better get used to being wrong. She’s there for the same reason she’s here. So you don’t go postal.”

Soldier Boy gave you an unreadable look as the rush of your heart in your chest slowed from Butcher’s words. You turned away from him, but you could almost feel his eyes through your skull as you looked at Butcher with a blank face.

“What’s the plan?” You asked, praying it would be simple, with as few people as possible around and, ideally, in the middle of a desert filled exclusively with fire extinguishers.

“MM and Kimiko are doing recon on one of Bob Singer’s rallies. Frenchie will create a distraction for the secret service, and Neuman’s personal detail is going to suddenly disappear-“

“Disappear?” You interrupted Butcher with raised eyebrows.

“Keep your panties on, they’ve been bribed. Once she’s isolated, Soldier Boy’ll blast her, and we can all go home confident in your little gambit.”

You hesitated, trying to imagine the last political rally you’d seen. Group of people in tight groups, electrical wiring for microphones, speakers, and lights. Gates and closed doors, hallways leading out onto streets. “How are we going to isolate her?”

“Me and Butcher will work on that,” Annie said, almost reaching for you with a reassuring pat, but thinking better and jerking her arm back. She opened her mouth, an apology certainly on her, but you raised your hand to cut her off.

“How long until we leave?” You asked. Maybe they’d say ‘three hours’ and you’d get to talk to someone who didn’t think swing music was sonically viable for a bit.

Hughie checked his watch. “Ten minutes ago.”

“Ago?” Your eyes widened.

He gave you a sheepish look. “We thought it would take less time to get you.” He turned to Soldier Boy. “Your suit’s in the van. I can bring it out-“

“I can change on the way.” Soldier Boy grumbled, ignoring Hughie’s start of sputtering protests. “Let’s get this over with.”

———-

Much to his annoyance, they had forgotten Ben’s shield, and nobody would let him change in the van. He tried several times, only to be met by a chorus of groans, shouting, and swearing. He had listened to their complaints only because she had started giving him a look he recognized as a flag for a storm of uncontrolled fire. No hot disgust or sparks of rage, only a cold and quiet, almost glassy-eyed stare. Her heart steady but her breathing too fucking controlled to be natural, measured so equally that it sounded mechanical. So, because he figured she would only become more bitchy to live with if she incinerated her alleged “friends”, Ben stopped trying to pull his shirt over his head.

Once he did, the van fell insufferably silent. The edged pleasantries and conversation he’d overheard during Butcher and his band of Assholes arrival had ceased save for tense questions and hushed conversations. Ben didn’t fail to notice all the spineless avoidance and careful words directed at them both. She, even after the foggy look faded, remained curled into a corner, trading small and toothless smiles with her team. More timid than he’d seen her before, almost like a scolded child as she looked around the van nervously. Her eyes watched the shadows as though Homelander himself might jump from them, the chew of her lip giving Ben a headache. The only words she spoke were a jab at Ben when he’d said something about political rallies post-election being fucking pathetic—giving him a lecture about American politics now heavily depending on something called “going viral”—only to fall silent once more after. Her team looked at her like a glass bomb, as if she was a delicate statue looming over their heads and not the vulgar, violent woman who slept down the hall from him. That woman infuriated him, testing his patience every time she opened her mouth, but this paranoid, skittish pussy of a girl was so much worse. So when the van halted and Butcher’s team began to filter out, he called her name. When she ignored him, he reached out and grabbed her arm.

“What the fuck!” She pulled herself out of his grip in a second, staring at him with anger. She glanced down at her arms, a look he didn’t understand crossing her face, before returning her attention to him. “Do not touch me.”

“I barely touched you,” he glowered, annoyance quickly flooding him. He had only brushed skin, with a light grip she had thrown off, there was no need to be so dramatic. “When I touch you for real, you’ll fucking know, Sunshine. And you’ll fucking beg for it. I needed to make you listen, you were fucking ignoring me.”

Her brows knit, and he heard the chew of her teeth on her tongue. “I’m not going to beg for anything, and I wasn’t ignoring you.”

“I said your name, and you kept fucking walking.”

“I didn’t hear you.” She snapped, but didn’t relent. “Speak up next time.”

She knew just as well as Ben did that they were both far from quiet, pussy-voiced fuckers. And while he definitely hadn’t yelled for her attention, it shouldn’t have fucking mattered. He’d seen her pick up his grumbled insults and mocking comments just fine over the past two weeks. “Bitch.”

“What do you want?” She asked with a sigh, ignoring his jab and looking at him as if he exhausted her just by breathing. “We have to go, and you still need to change.”

“You shouldn’t let them treat you like that.” He said, not hiding the contempt from his voice. He wasn’t going to skirt around his thoughts, lining them gently to help her fucking feelings.

Her body tensed, her limbs looking as if they’d locked into place. “Like what?” Ben heard her swallow as she answered, her voice not lost enough to make her sound clueless to his words.

“Like you’re a child they have to coddle. A problem they have to deal with.”

She stared at him, her glassy-eyes returning. “Shut up. You don’t know what you’re fucking talking about, cunt-face.”

Ben snorted. “They don’t treat you like the bitch you are. They always use that sweet, pussy voice, like they’re talking to a fucking puppy, when they say something to you. They’re always all fucking pouty when they look at you, pussyfooting around so they don’t make you sad.” He gave her a mocking grin, hoping the next words landed like a bullet. “They treat you like me.”

It had clearly worked, as the van had grown hot, and her eyes were clearing as her heart began to pick up. Ben felt an odd feeling cover him as he heard it, almost familiar and sparking pride in his chest. She wasn’t a jittery shell anymore, she was going to try and kill him. It made his grin grow genuine, and the van grew only more heated, the air waving around them.

Her mouth opened, and Ben hoped whatever came out of it would be vile and crude.

“Hey!” She turned her head and clenched her jaw as someone called her name from outside, the van rattling as a fist banged against it. “We need to go!”

The door opened to reveal the Cocksucker, whose face grew quickly red, a bead of sweat falling from his hairline, as he was blasted with a quickly dying wave of heat.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, turning from Ben as the heat dropped further. “Coming.”

Cocksucker gave her a worried look, his gaze flying quickly to Ben, but just nodded and stood aside for her to move past.

As the door closed and Ben began to change, he listened for their soft, tense words.

“Are you okay? Did he do anything to you?” Cocksucker’s voice was nervous and gentle, like being suffocated by one of those fucking fluffy blankets Ben had seen in the empty bedroom of the safe house.

“No, he just grabbed me to talk. And you don’t have to keep asking me that. I’m fine, and it’s not as helpful as you think it is.” Ben frowned at her voice, the malice from it drained entirely in only a few seconds, replaced with only a tired hollowness.

“Grabbed you?! Like, he touched you?”

Having anticipated Cocksucker being more interested in the “talk” part of her sentence, or the shit that sounded like it was about feelings, Ben's brain rattled over Cocksucker’s word, his tone of panic looping in Ben’s head. He spoke of Ben’s touch as though it were a plague, and not something many people would kill to feel. Ben almost burst out of the van to say just that, but froze when he heard her answer.

“It was fast, I didn’t feel much. Even if I did, it doesn’t matter. I can’t go the rest of my life without touching people.” Her voice had a finality to it, and Ben could almost picture her downturned lips and wrinkled brow.

“You touch us when you heal us.” Even Cocksucker’s voice didn’t sound sure of his response.

“It’s not the same, and you know that.”

There was a momentary stall in their words, and Ben took the opportunity to emerge, securing his belt as he walked to the door. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected to see, but Cocksucker looking pathetically around, anywhere but the woman as she curved into herself, wasn’t it. She held a white-knuckle grip on the sleeves of her jacket, her thumb running up and down in small movements. They both turned to him as the door banged open, and Ben caught the empty look behind her eyes before her indifference slipped back into place.

“Did you hurry me just to sit around like pussies, or are we going to start fucking moving?” He asked, the air feeling too uncomfortable to sit in.

Cocksucker blinked, glancing at his watch. “We have a few minutes until they arrive, but I guess it can’t hurt to be vigilant-“

“Arrive?” The woman’s eyes widened, and Ben saw smoke curl from her hold on her jacket. “They’re coming here?”

Cocksucker nodded. “It’s a high-security escape exit-“

“It’s a fucking street, Hughie.”

“That’s used as a high-security escape exit.” After a moment of searching the area, Cocksucker pointed a few yards down, at a large door set against brick. “Neuman will come right out of there, and her guards will close her out here, where Soldier Boy will blast her.” He paused, glancing at Ben, before looking back at the door and taking small, cowardly steps away from his spot between them.

“It’s a public area, anyone could walk past! What the fuck were you thinking?!” Her voice was hushed and agitated, and Ben had never seen her face lose color at that speed before, had never heard her heart stutter and jump as if trying to escape her body.

“It’ll be fine,” Cocksucker’s voice wavered, giving them both a nervous look. “It should be fine. MM said it would be fine.”

“You heard him, Sunshine,” Ben gave her a wink, adding a half-cocked smile when she didn’t even return him with a dirty look. “MM said it would be fine. And have some fucking faith in me, I’m not a fucking monster. I won’t blast any running pussies except for this head-popper broad.”

“You don’t even know what she looks like.” Her tone wasn’t quite the vicious mockery he was used to, but it was better than the apathetic, empty voice she’d been using. She was rolling on the balls of her feet, speaking without looking at him, her eyes moving restlessly from the door to the end of the street. “And I don’t believe you.”

Ben just shrugged, allowing the silence to hang. The wind was picking up, whistling through the chill of winter air, making the heat around them, emitting from both Ben and the woman, all the more obvious. Despite the biting cold, Cocksucker had taken off his stupid puffy jacket, even stepping back further from where they stood, with Ben in the center of the street and the woman off to the left. Despite her slowly stepping further and further back, her back now almost against the wall, Ben could feel her watching him, hear her heart continue its new and erratic beat.

“How long now, Hughie?” Her voice was raised to carry over the wind, though it hadn’t lost that stupid fucking weakness. Cocksucker, thank fuck, didn’t get a chance to respond with pathetically comforting words, as only one skipping heartbeat after she spoke a shrill fire alarm sounded.

“I’m assuming that’s your stupid French fuck's plan?” Ben asked dryly. “Start a fucking fire? I thought you pussies were all about minimal damage.”

“He probably just pulled the alarm.” The Cocksucker’s answer lacked any confident assurance. “And I think we’re just against needless murder.”

Ben almost started to rant about their so-called needless murder being a mighty high horse for a group of people who had manipulated him just as much as Vought, who’d been willing to help him kill all those backstabbing pussies from Payback so he’d help them. About how their stupid fucking moral purity complex seemed to adjust perfectly to aid them, and maybe he wasn’t a fucking angel, but he was strong and powerful—something they fucking needed—man, and he wasn’t a pussyfaced liar about what he was, what he did. The words died on his tongue, though, as hundreds of frenzied footsteps reached his ears.

“Fuck!” he growled, turning around and pointing at Cocksucker. “You fucking pussy.”

Cocksucker gave him an idiotically confused stare. “Dude, uncalled for.”

“She,” Ben pointed to the woman, whose heart was beating impossibly fast and looking on with a bloodless face. “Was fucking right. This is a stupid plan, because unless your head-popper walks like a human centipede, it’s not going to be just her that I fucking hit when that door opens.”

Cocksucker only gaped at him like a fish as the footsteps grew louder, annoyingly unsure stutters  escaping him, and just as Ben decided it might be good to slap the idiot out of his daze, the woman stepped forward.

“We need to move, Hughie. Now.” Her voice wasn’t steady, her whole body was tensed and hyper, but it held a determination Ben almost admired. “We can’t be here.”

“He- he could be fucking lying, or wrong-“

“That’s not a risk we can afford to take.” She cut off Cocksucker’s doubts, and Ben found himself surprised at her defense of him, even if it could barely be called that. Her hands were smoking once more, but she had firmly planted herself in the middle of the road, eyes turning sharply to Ben. “If people see you, any element of surprise over Homelander would be lost. We need to fucking move, you need to get in the fucking van now-“

The door banged open, and the streets flooded as hoards of people in star and stripe-themed outfits flooded the road. Everything became so loud, and that rapt, snapping sound in Ben’s head started to spread through him, spurring the drum in his chest. They were finding rhythm so fast, everything fading as Ben tried to slow it. But there were screams and shouts, and everything was getting further and further away from him while carving into him all the same, so though Ben could hear the sounds of metal clanging and shouts of his supe name, he couldn’t think anything past the beat beat beat, until he lost it all at once.

As his vision grew clear with his head, Ben expected to see shattered bodies and bloody walls. Instead, all he saw was the woman and fire. Her face was flushed red, her eyes crazed, and her clothes had become charred with holes as the fire surged from her into a barrier, cutting them off from the crowd. Cocksucker was yelling her name, urging them both to return to the van and leave, but as Ben moved, he glanced back to see the woman frozen and heard her heart as if it were his own. The wall was growing wider and shooting high, Cocksucker wouldn’t shut the fuck up about moving, but her eyes had squeezed shut, unresponsive to anything but the growing flames.

“We need to fucking go, now!” Ben turned to see a large man he vaguely recognized barreling down their side of the street, his face twisted in anger. Butcher, Starlight, a small woman he remembered fighting, and that French prick followed him, all loading into the van as the large man stopped beside Cocksucker.

“I told you he’d fucking blow it,” the man said, giving Ben a disgusted look, so flawlessly revolted Ben wouldn’t be surprised if he’d fucking practiced in the mirror.

“Hey, I didn’t fucking blow it, you pussy-“

“You said that Neuman would come out of here, that it would just be her!” Cocksucker, much to Ben’s shock, cut him with a high voice and a wave at the wall of fire. “That’s way more than just her! Is she even there?!”

“No,” the man said gruffly. “Neuman saw Butcher and figured out something was up. She’s long gone.”

“Fuck!” Cocksucker yelled, running a hand through his hair.

“Oi, we can go over how MM fucked up later,” Butcher leaned out from the van. “We need to go before she sends Homelander.”

“How I fucked up? You’re the one who disobeyed me and blew our cover-“

“What’s wrong with Madame Anomaly?” The French Prick appeared at Butcher's side.

Cocksucker glanced at the woman, calling her name before turning to the large man Butcher had called MM. “She absorbed Soldier Boy’s blast. I think it got her stuck.”

“We don’t have time for this. Get Soldier Boy in the van, I’ll take care of the Anomaly.” MM repeated the French Prick’s words, and Ben realized they were, for the first time, using the woman’s supe name.

“You heard him, Gov. Get in the bloody van.” Butcher’s words were clearly directed at Ben, but as he climbed into the van Ben saw Butcher’s attention locked on the woman.

MM had moved closer to the woman, a move Ben deemed more fucking stupid than brave. If she had “absorbed his blast,” as Cocksucker said, he wouldn’t recommend any non-supe be anywhere near her. MM seemed to realize this himself at the last possible second, taking a pathetic, stumbling step back with a pause. He and Cocksucker exchanged a look, something passing between them that Ben didn’t understand, before Cocksucker leaned down to grab a pebble from the road. Ben watched as he shakily shook out his arms, wound up, and tossed the pebble at the woman.

It was a terrible fucking idea, Ben didn’t have to be Einstein to know that, but the chain reaction that played out still managed to go worse than he might have guessed.

The woman whirled around, her eyes blazing, with a roar sounding from her chest. Fire shot from the wall directly at Cocksucker. In almost slow motion, Ben watched her face become painted with horror as she recognized her target, a different, fearful sound leaving her. She reached an arm out, her heart seeming to falter, and barely redirected the flames before they hit Cocksucker in the chest. The blaze just grazed Cocksucker’s arm, passed the van clear of anyone else, and hit the building with a boom.

The moment the bricks caught fire and the ground began to shake as the building crumbled, the woman's wall of fire fell. The woman herself remained upright, but only barely as MM shouted her name and she started to stumble to the van. Cocksucker was hauled in by Starlight and the French Prick, the former fussing over his burnt arm—Ben had seen worse at Herogasm and nobody whined about it—and Cocksucker waved her off. The woman pulled herself in, ignoring Butcher’s outstretched hand, and the door closed behind her. MM appeared in the driver’s seat, and as the engine started everyone fell into a heavy-breathed silence.

Through the ride, Ben watched the woman open and close her mouth a million times, returned to her fetal position in the corner but watching Cocksucker with a strained face. Her hands tapped against her still-smoking jacket, reaching out hesitantly before she pulled them back into herself. No words were spoken, not even the anxious whispers of the ride there. Ben felt relief as the van stopped, MM climbing out and opening the doors to reveal the exterior of the safe house, grateful for any excuse to leave these stupid, sniffing pussies to wallow in their failure.

MM led Ben and the woman to the doors, opened them by leaning oddly at the doorbell, and gestured for them to walk through. The man followed them in, shutting the doors behind him with a rough push.

“If we failed the test, I am not doing that fucking shit again.” Ben grumbled as MM turned around from the now-shut entrance.

“Butcher told me about the fucking mess you and him made in here.” MM ignored Ben entirely, speaking to the woman as if he wasn’t even there. “A team cleaned it up while you were gone, and Mallory will send more groceries tomorrow night. I saw a picture, it was fucking gross. I’m only doing it once, because I don’t want a new disease to develop in here. You’re an adult, you should take care of this place by your goddamn self.”

The woman looked at her feet, humming a small acknowledgment. She didn’t look up as she spoke. “Is Hughie going to be okay?”

MM sighed. “The kid will live. I’ll look at him when we get back.”

“I could help-“

MM cut her off with her name. “He’ll be fine. We’ll make sure of it.”

She gave another nervous hum, and Ben jumped in.

“Can you answer my fucking question-“

“We’ll let you know what our next steps are after we talk to Mallory and Singer. This wasn’t good, but it’s not the end of the damn world.” Once again, MM ignored Ben. It was starting to feel personal. Before Ben could push further, MM reached a hand out to rest on the woman’s shoulder, right over a hole in her sleeve. Her head shot up with her heart, but the panic in her seemed to evaporate just as soon as it appeared. Her name was gentle as MM spoke it, eyes locked with hers. “You didn’t fuck up. You did your job.” She nodded slowly. “It’ll be fine.” With those last words, he exited the building, leaving Ben and the woman in the hall.

“What’s his fucking problem?” Ben grunted, half directed at the woman, half to just say it.

She gave him a flat look. “You killed his family.” Before he could come up with a clever response, honest or dodging the annoying feeling of guilt forming in his throat, the woman turned from him and walked away.

———-

You were so tired. Your bones ached, oddly cold in a way you hadn’t felt in a while, your skin crawled with feverish chills, and when you closed your eyes, you could see the flames graze Hughie and the building turn to dust. As MM’s lingering calm he’d offered you faded, all you felt was tired. Worthless. A liability. You had fucked up, just as much as Soldier Boy. Maybe more so, because he had PTSD, even if he would deny being a “hung-up pussy”. He had lost control because he’d been tortured by Russians, you’d almost killed your friend and definitely destroyed a rec center because you’d been startled. You just wanted to sleep, to deal with the inevitable fight about groceries in the morning, running on more than quickly expiring adrenaline and caffeine pills stuck in your throat.

You made it to your room, changing into one of the pajama sets folded in your drawers, hoping someone mentioned that the allegedly fire-proof wardrobe you’d been given apparently wasn’t strong enough for the full force of your fire combined with Soldier Boy’s nuclear explosions. A shame, you’d liked the pants you’d chosen for the mission. You’d live without the jacket, though. You’d hardly pulled the shirt over your head when the door ripped open, a still suit-clad Soldier Boy standing at your door.

“What fucking happened to you?” His question was blunt and confusing as he entered your room, remaining near the door but over the threshold.

Your body was too heavy to fight with him right now. There was no tense prickling on the bridge of your nose, only the throbbing stab of a headache. “Go away, Soldier Boy.”

“All of you have a fucking thing. A weird, sad reason to whine around and pretend you’re better than me.” He didn’t budge, but rather leaned forward. “What’s yours.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You said I killed MM’s family. Butcher’s always pussying around about Homelander stealing his girl. Cocksucker mentioned something about that fast asshole doing something as well. I’m not sure what the French Prick bitches about, but I’m sure it’s something.”

“First of all, you did kill MM’s family.” You really don’t want to do this right now, but maybe he’ll give up and fuck off. A fruitless wish, a small part of you knows, but you have nothing left to push back with. “And Homelander didn’t ‘steal Butcher’s wife’, he raped her.”

“Right.” Soldier Boy watched you, his expression unreadable in the shadowy room. “Those are all fucking things. So tell me what yours is.”

“I don’t have one,” even as you speak the insistence, it sounded fake and hollow.

He takes another step forward. “Yes, you do. I saw how you froze, nobody without a thing locks up like that. I heard Cocksucker ask you if I ‘hurt you’. Just for the record, Sunshine, I may not be a Boy Scout, but I’m no fucking rapist.”

“You’ve tried to sleep with me thirty-three times.”

“And I’ll blow your mind when you realize how much you’d love it, no sooner. What’s your fucking thing.”

You stare at him, the intensity in his voice throwing you off. He’s insistent, comfortable in your room but standing at his full height, attention fixed entirely on you. That impression of dissection has returned—the feeling as if he’s trying to pick you apart for him to play with. “Why do you even care?”

“Because maybe if you tell me, I can kill what supe fucked up your pretty little head and you’ll be less of a bitch.”

You can’t stop the snort that escapes you. “What a selfish fucking cunt reason.”

He shrugged in something that could’ve been an agreement. “Maybe.” He falls silent, but doesn't leave.

You collapse to sit on the edge of your bed, staring ahead as you rub your temple. “Please just go.”

“No.”

You look at him, not caring if he sees the desperation in your eyes. “Can this not wait six hours for the morning?”

“No.”

“Do you know any words but no?” You mutter under your breath.

You didn’t miss his annoyed humph. “Oh, just fucking tell me.”

“No.” It was your turn to snap. Your exhaustion was becoming lined with bitter childishness, and you didn’t care enough to try and suppress your urge to sneer at him.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re an idiotic, self-absorbed, sadist asshat who wouldn’t know empathy if it started sucking his dick.” You mocked.

He grinned. “Ok, now name my bad qualities.”

“I’m not telling you.”

“I’ll start guessing,” he took another step forward, now almost directly before you. “Did that red-headed lesbian steal your puppy?

You frowned up at him. “Maeve was bisexual.”

“Did Noir take credit for a college project?” He ignored your comment, leaning down with a mocking smirk.

“Trust me, I got all my dues in college.”

“Did that gay-for-Jesus blond steal your boyfriend? Did the fast asshole that stole Cocksucker’s girl break up with you? Did water-boy eat your goldfish?”

“I’ve never met Ezekiel, A-Train actually murdered Hughie’s girlfriend, and The Deep famously doesn’t eat seafood, he fucks it. But by all means, keep going.”

Soldier Boy blinked. “He fucks it?”

“Yep. It’s gross.” You shrug. “Are you done?”

“Are you going to answer my question?”

You give a toothless smile. “Not until you get all your guesses out.”

“Oh?” There was unquestionable surprise in his voice at your relent, only making your fake cheer grow and your immature anger fully overtake you.

“I want you to feel like a real fucking asshole when I tell you.”

His face split open with a grin. “Well then, did the Twins kick you out of Herogasm? Did that bitch, Crimson Countess, overshadow your big debut? Did a Z-lister get more attention than you from the Vought pussies?”

You just raised your eyebrows, crossing your arms as Soldier Boy continued until the list of supes ran dry. As the last jeer left his mouth, he mirrored your face of cold amusement.

“Well?”

You leaned back, watching him closely as you spoke. “Homelander kidnapped me, kept me in a dungeon, raped me in an attempt to make more mini-Homelanders, and, after you returned, started experimenting on me to try and recreate the V used on you.”

A small shock rushed through you after you spoke. You hadn’t said any of that out loud, not fully, since you’d escaped. You danced around it with Butcher and his team, with Mallory and the CIA leaders, always picking and choosing parts to omit so nobody would look at you with pity and fear. It hadn’t worked, they did anyway, but there had still been control over it. Up until this moment, nobody had known why Homelander had done all those things to you. Everyone had seemed happy to chalk it up to him being a fucking psychopath, not anything deeper. Certainly not attempting to create a small army of additional Ryan Butchers. Small things were still yours, flashes of hunger and warped sounds remaining in your head, but everything else you had just told him.

Why did you do that? A voice hissed as the high from your petulance faded. Why did you let him win? Why did you give him a weapon to use that could hurt you?

But looking at him, he didn’t appear to be a portait of self-satisfaction and heartless triumph. He was staring at you, scanning you as though the scars Homelander left would be visible on your bare legs and arms. When he spoke, his voice wasn’t weak or coddling, but angry.

“He kept you locked up?”

You nod, part of you getting ready to fight him over something.

“He hurt you? To try and recreate me?” Your repeated nodding only seemed to inflate whatever was happening. “Did it hurt?”

Your arms and face started at that, an uncertain feeling spreading through you. There had been no reverent tone as Soldier Boy had asked the last question, no sadistic for affirmation. But you didn’t know what he wanted to hear. Why he even wanted to know. But an involuntarily honest answer escaped you. “Yes.”

He stared at you for another second before he opened his mouth, only to close it without making any sound. Abruptly, he whipped around and began to leave, giving you only one more indecipherable look as he closed the door behind him, leaving you on the edge of your bed, alone in your room.

You lay down slowly, half expecting him to storm back in at any moment, but minutes passed, quickly turning into a half hour, and your body sat at the edge of collapse once more. Soon it was unbearable, and you lay down, your racing mind being forced to a halt as sleep pulled you under.

Your sleep, as had been the case for a while now, was haunted by nightmares of blue eyes and yellow, fluorescent lights. You woke up in a cold sweat, and took a long, needlessly warm shower before forcing yourself to leave your room around 9:30. Despite your lingering fatigue, no part of you wasn’t restless as you walked down the stairs. Your body tense and ready to run, your head spinning with hypotheticals and lining up words you may need—that feeling under your skin creeping up your spine and fluttering in your gut. But Soldier Boy wasn’t in the living room or the hall. You poked your head in the dining room, hoping to avoid the minefield of the kitchen, but it was empty, the plastic chandelier lights off, the table occupied only by a vase of wilted flowers. You moved to the kitchen, ringing growing in your ears, but he wasn’t there. You turned to walk away, continue your search, but double-back as it hit you.

Nothing was in the kitchen. It was empty. Of Soldier Boy, and of the groceries MM said would be delivered.

You wandered in slowly, watching the counters as if they might start to glitch and flicker, revealing hidden produce and dirty dishes. But, leaning over the sink, there was a single plate, soaking in water that was dotted with crumbs. Slowly, you moved to the refrigerator, slowly opening it as you glanced around the room. Your eyes widened at the sight inside. Milk, drinks, and produce had been placed inside, disorganized and haphazardly. There was a jar of mayonnaise in the fresh drawer, along with a box of pasta on a side shelf, but the fridge was full. You moved quickly to the pantry, which had been sorted in a similar fashion, but filled. And when you opened the last cabinet, you saw a piece of paper stuck under a jar of peanut butter.

I know I did a shit job. Clean up if it bothers you, but don't bitch to me about it. And tell Mallory to get smooth peanut butter next time, or I’m not doing anything for her but killing Homelander - Ben

[confused-wanderer]

Price has had enough.

He could always tell when Simon was off. Be it a slight tick of his hands pulling down on his balaclava when he was nervous, the sudden stillness and slight head tilt he did when he was getting pissed or the silence he used when he was down.

Yeah. Price can always tell. It was like a rift in the usual waves around Ghost, and he can almost always tell 99.999% of the time what the other was feeling simply by noting the atmosphere change around the other man. He can tell everything from a mile away, even if Simon couldn’t himself.

So trust him when he says he knows Ghost wants to be closer to the taskforce. He sees it in how the three banter around, how Ghost allows Gaz to call him “the phantom of the opera” or how Soap is the only one who can whine to L.T about taking off his mask without having a gaping hole in his chest later. Or the unspoken rule of personal space suddenly being invaded as light pats, playful punches and mock hits are tolerated by Ghost without any alarm bells going off.

But Ghost, is shit at communication. At an unfathomable level. The lieutenant was sure the other two men must have recognised his reciprocation, his open fondness and soft spot for them. The fucking clueless bastard who didn’t know the first thing about normal behavior, Price thinks with love.

And he’d reached his limit with trying to let Simon do it his way.

So when they’re all down from a mission, Ghost making his way to exfil while the rest were already in the train, Price tells both his sergeants to just close their eyes. He’s met with a few dubious looks, but the tired expression on his face of trust me I know what I’m doing erases all doubts and they both do it.

The moment ghost’s voice clicks over comms, saying he’s made it out, Price sees both his sergeants relax, shoulders sagging as they let out a deep exhale, and smiles. All his boys cared about each other.

Gaz, who closes his eyes first, ends up falling asleep, lightly swaying with the motion to prevent himself from falling deeper. And Soap is well on his way under, his body stilling dangerously so for his normal state.

Price sits on the opposite seat, keeps his hat on his face to prevent Ghost from seeing his eyes, and lays back. To watch the chaos, of course. Ghost enters after a few minutes, his footsteps heavy before stopping, and then becoming impossibly soft, presumably because he sees them all asleep.

Price watches Ghost falter, THE Ghost look as uncertain and lost as a puppy, fidgeting as he tries to see where he can sit.

The bus starts, and the motion causes Gaz to almost slide off. But before Gaz can fully wake himself up to respond, Ghost catches him, takes the seat between the two sergeants, tightens his gentle grip around the other man, and allows him to rest his weight on Simon, to prevent him from moving any further.

Soap, half awake for all, this lifts his head a bit at the commotion, his battle with sleep was evident. He ends up trying to look at what is happening, before sleep wins and Johnny goes limp, head falling against Simon’s before he realises what happened and tries to lift himself, ending with his head falling back.

And Ghost once again, doesn’t let it. He lifts his shoulder to better support the other man’s neck, and tucks his chin over Soap’s head to keep him comfortable and safe. Soap is now practically leaning on Simon, the latter man for the first time in a long while not only allowing touch but initiating it.

The sergeants were safe and protected, both finally registering that Ghost indeed, had a soft spot for them, and made sure to keep including him in their warmth, making sure he knew he was a part of their family too.

[rootsofdread]

May I request general hc for Ghostface, Michael Myers and the Trickster falling in love with a survivor (preferably one that doesn't seem to reciprocate their feelings)?

Danny Johnson / The Ghostface:

Danny is not very forward with his feelings, not at first. He spends a lot of time watching you in and out of trials, learning everything that he can about you. He knows he won’t be able to win you over unless he knows how your brain works, what you like and don’t like, who your friends are. It’s not stalking as long as you don’t know he’s there.

He uses his information to try to get to know you in a more normal way next. He thinks you’ll be amazed by his “people reading” skills, and thinks you’ll be more inclined to share more with him, feel more comfortable. He’s shocked to find you still seemingly uninterested in him.

He always slips in compliments when the two of you happen to talk along with his skillfully-gained information. You’re stunning, you’re so smart, you’re great in chases. Anything he thinks will earn him your favor, but it’s all true, of course. Danny is many things, but a liar isn’t one of them.

His next course of action is trying to impress you with his more practical skills in trials. He always makes sure you’re watching when he marks and skillfully downs someone, looking over his shoulder at you before taking them to a hook. He’s a lot more productive during trials when you’re around.

He enjoys seeing your reaction when he sneaks up on your teammates in front of you, the shock of realizing you didn’t even know he was there until it was too late. He knows that’s a surefire way to impress you, if all else fails. His Night Shroud works wonders.

Michael Myers / The Shape:

Michael never thought he would even love someone. Honestly, he just didn’t think he’d have it in him. So you can imagine his frustration when he falls for someone who doesn’t seem to share his feelings, who ignores all of his advances, which get increasingly aggressive. If he makes sure you know how he feels, maybe then you'll return his feelings.

You may think your apparent disinterest in him would end up discouraging him…But if you know Michael, you know it doesn’t. His drive to kill Laurie has kept him going for years. A lot of years. He’ll get you, too, eventually. He knows he will.

If he knows he has you in a trial, you’re his first target. He stalks you first, following you around, watching you behind corners or from higher places. He can never tell if you purposefully hold still out in the open, though.

He picks off the rest of your team one by one to get to you easier. He leaves their bodies where you can see them and waits for you to come to him. It's…His very twisted way of showing you his affection. He always hopes you like it, and has a little hope that you’re impressed by it.

He always lets you escape, either through the hatch or forcing you to go through the gates if he’s feeling “playful.” The latter may seem a little cruel, but it’s just his way of having a little fun with you. He doesn’t have a very well-adjusted sense of fun. But he knows you’re glad to at least be left alive, and that’s really all that matters.

Ji-Woon Hak / The Trickster:

Ji-Woon is the most romantically-inclined, and actually tries to win your favor in less frightening ways. That’s not to say he isn’t without his…Issues, but he is a romantic at heart and enjoys trying to woo you, even if it usually ends up being fruitless. He’s convinced that his good looks and charm will do most of his work for him.

He’s always following you around, trying to chat you up, mostly by bragging about his accomplishments both before and during his time in the fog. It impresses everyone else and makes them swoon, so he figures it’ll do the same to you. Your disinterest in his achievements doesn’t seem to bother him much. He’ll also tail you without your knowledge occasionally, to find things out about you, like things you like to do or talk about.

In addition to this, he’s always bringing you gifts, too. Typically items he’s looted off of dead survivors, because he knows even if you’re not interested in him, you’ll be interested in items you can actually use. He can get a little smug about it. He does also enjoy bringing you flowers, he knows it’s less creepy and you may be a bit more inclined to like them for that reason.

If you’re in a trial together, you’ll find little love notes pinned to trees or walls with his throwing knives. The tone of these notes may be a little off-putting or ominous, but Ji-Woon insists that that’s just how he writes. And if you’ve heard his music, you know that’s not a lie. He just expresses himself and his affections in strange ways.

He’ll also avoid going after you in trials, like a gentleman. He’ll let you work on generators and unhook your teammates so long as there are others still alive that he can go after. He prefers to not kill you, but he seems to have a lot of fun chasing you down and hauling you to a hook just to tell you he loves you.

[hanafubukki]

Fake dating with Sebek where it starts with Lilia and Malleus wanting to give him a little push into a new experience, so they tell him that they won't allow him to attend 'x' event with Malleus unless he is courting someone by/during that time. They don't even plan on enforcing it- of course they'll bring him with no matter what.

And Sebek is flip-flopping because he'll throw a tantrum to go with no matter what and why should he get a date just in order to join his liege? But at the same time, it's this very liege who is asking him to find a date and he doesn't want to disappoint him. And it's the latter that wins out- sort of. He approaches you to fake court him. Of course it won't be real, it is simply to appease his master and make HIM happy. He's all smiles when he reports to Malleus and Lilia that he has found someone to court and give them your name when they ask who. But wanting to tease him some, they tell him they look forward to seeing the two of you be coupley. Which makes him panic slightly. He didn't think he'd actually have to- to SHOW them. It should be fine if you take the lead, right? You can fawn over him while he still focuses on Malleus. And that's how it kind of turns out- you let him stay himself while you play the part of the loving girlfriend, which became more and more real the longer it went on. You started seeing different sides of Sebek, finding out more of how his thought process worked- and he was unconsciously gravitating towards you as well. He'd hold the door open for you without realizing it. Instead of walking away once HE'S done talking, he'd wait for you to finish so you could depart together. It'd become natural to sit next to you at lunch instead of you pretending to pout and ask why he wasn't sitting next to his girlfriend.

Sebek didn't notice these changes, though. So when the day of 'x' event came, he went over the plan with you again. This was the last day of being 'together'. If questioned, you'd say it was a mutual decision to break it off. That you just weren't right for each other. He went into the event with you on his arm, and he left without you. The next morning he woke up, ready to being the day like any other from before the fake dating happened. It should be no problem. He hadn't been committed, it wasn't a real relationship- he had nothing to recover from. But things felt off regardless. He found himself making a comment and looking to his side to see if you'd heard him, but you weren't there. Of course you weren't. He'd sit down for lunch but not eat, and when asked why he'd automatically respond that he doesn't eat until you have sat down as well (Lilia reminds him that you won't be there. You broke up, after all). He goes to bed at his usual time, but it feels too early as he had gotten used to having a small conversation before you'd leave his room to back to ramshackle. He started missing you. Your smiles, your comments and opinions, when you'd lift your snack to his lips to he could have a bite, the conflict of whether to feel insulted or embarrassed when you'd give him the occasional doodle you drew of him and Malleus together, or just himself. The reliable presence he would stand by whenever you shared a class together, getting to show you his impressive skills, having to pull you out of the way of something so you don't trip...

You're both back to where you were before, but it doesn't feel better.

…Anonie!! Come back!! You can’t do this to me. I was grinning happily at the cute antics and then you left it there!!

I woke up to this and was reading this expecting a cute ending or something but you ended it there 😭😭

It would be Malleus and Lilia who would mess with Sebek like this wouldn’t it? Sebek would take it to heart and try his best 🥹 and something tells me they know that it was planned, but can see him fall for you. And now are waiting to see him realize it too and get you back 🥹😭 (Lilia is taking bets I tell you 😂)

The way he would open the door for you, wait for you, sit next to you, and then he wouldn’t eat until you came!!!

Him just so used to your presence.

Sebek out here being the best husband 🥹💞💚

ANONIE COME BACK, don’t leave me like this 😭💔

[dangermousie]

If I had to sum up in one sentence why I love Heroes (2024) so much it's because, as I mentioned to @silviakundera - Liu Yuning plays the best swordsman in China. In 1911.

His skill, just as his whole way of life, is about to be obsolete.

If you think about it, it's the equivalent of being the accountant fastest with the abacus - a lot of skill, a lot of time to get to that skill and utterly pointless by now.

He has spent his whole life honing it, he's given up everything for it and the sect way of life, including the woman he loves and for what? He's winning his sword battles against opponents also largely armed with swords but this is the last gasp of that sort of thing.

He's peerless, he's unparalleled, and a squad of peasants with modern for the era guns who have never seen a sword can take him out.

It's like the sect thing - there is a reason they are all starving thugs for hire instead of respected and admired - this is a dying way of life. This is not the world that respects sects or even the imperial family (the country as the dynasty is vvvv much Qin Jun Jie's modus operandi.) He has given up everything for something that is about to become meaningless or at best a curiosity sideshow in the modern world. Swordplay, those precepts about teachers and students and everything - the warlords, foreigners and merchants about to initiate the new era will not care about any of it.

And the same is of course true for QJJ's character. He is very much loyal to the Qing dynasty - he was the chief bodyguard of the emperor, he is now trying to prevent a rebellion (even if a lot of the latter is so as to stay out of jail.) And yet we know he fails, the rebellion succeeds, and the Qing dynasty is about to join the dust heap of history. He won't be able to prevent the end of the Qing any more than LYN's character will be able to resurrect the glories of the sect.

And his life IS tied to the Qing dynasty rise and fall, their inter-dynastic fights. And none of it matters. His whole life has been wrecked because of the failure of the 100 Days' Reform but not only has that become a historical footnote, the dynasty itself, that entire way of life is about to disappear. Whether the Guangxu Emperor was right or Dowager Empress Cixi was right and the fact that the latter won is about to become academic, as the whole dynasty, the whole concept of imperial rule, is about to disappear and become irrelevant, an equivalent of a dispute of a better way to build a horse-drawn carriage or to make clothes by hand - OBE and of no interest to the wider world.

Ultimately, whether LYN's guys find the treasure, or QJJ's people, or anyone else, the causes of the former two, the worlds of the former two are inexorably about to be gone.

It's kind of like the hair. It is a huge marker for them - for QJJ character, the queue marks that he's a loyal member of apparatus, that he's serving the dynasty, that he's the dutiful denizen of the Qing Dynasty. First thing he does once out of jail is get rid of his full head of jail hair and acquire a proper queue. For LYN, the very fact that he wears his hair long but queueless is a demonstration of his rebellion. And both of those styles are about to become relics or at best an unusual personal choice as soon enough short hair for men becomes the usual thing and there is no mandatory queue.

The tragedy of both these men is that they are born in the wrong era. If they were living a thousand, five hundred, three hundred, even a hundred years ago, they would fit. But as it is...they are ghosts who don't know it yet.

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

Hello! I need something fluff with Hiccup, like the reader realizing she likes him, gets nervous and avoids him. But he ends up asking her what happens.

That's all! I hope you have a happy holiday with your family, and I'm looking forward to seeing "sorry, but I think I lost your plot" advance !

Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot pt 12

Pairing: Onesided!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Fem!Reader

Words: 1,251

You’re in denial. Hiccup is getting desperate.

Tags: Time Travel, Reader into Movieverse, half-fill

<Previous - Next>

You stared at the slightly wilted flower in your hand.

 It was a wildflower with small white petals, each a bit peach and tawny as an eggshell. One was a bit bent and smudged with what looked like soot.

“Thank you.” You said.

Toothless sat on the floor on his hind legs.

Hiccup stood in front of you, not quite looking you in the eye, possibly waiting for a response to his earlier question. You had to remind yourself what kind.

“Johannes and Mulch are feuding because Mulch lost a sheep. Johannes doesn’t believe him but he has one extra,” You said, after a moment, “Mulch paid me to smack him on the head. I’m just waiting for him to pick up on it.”

“Would you ever want to-?” Hiccup started and paused hesitantly, carefully, Toothless looking quite annoyed, shifting in his saddle.

“Yeah- Ha, ha! Okay bud, I’m- Let’s go,” Hiccup said awkwardly, voice cracking at nearly the pitch of a squeak and dipping at light intervals as Toothless nosed into him crossly.

You looked at him, face measured in normal proportion, his dragon scaled and leathered in a way that went beyond the style of animation.

You held a small package in one hand as you turned, wrapped securely with cloth in one hand as you walked up from the fields towards one of the many wooden planks lining the village, “I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah,” Hiccup said, as you left him behind.

The morning air was fresh, and though Vikings were early risers, this time the square was empty.

You glanced back after a while, then briefly looked back at the flower again once you were sure you were alone.

You thought, and your face heated slightly with embarrassment.

You felt like electricity was running up and down your spine, though you weren’t quite sure whether or not it was the good kind. You couldn’t say it was.

Did Hiccup like you?

Flowers and nice dates. Those he could do easily.

Then there were books, and chocolate. Hiccup would have to wait for Johann to come back to ask about the second one, and books were also expensive, sort of. He could probably make one.

Hiccup crossed his arms, laying his head on them and soaking in the afternoon light as he sat along a long bench, newly made and freshly varnished, set just outside the Great Hall. he scuffed his foot into the sparse grass clumps below, toe of his boot occasionally catching against them.

He wondered what kind of life you lived before, where gifts like books and chocolate were common instead of axes or swords. Or maybe he was too used to the latter kind being one of the people who usually had to take part in making them. Swords and axes could, too, be very expensive.

What kind of books did you like?

Hiccup scrubbed the back of his head.

He thought of how you helped him work on the fin for Toothless which he did, admittedly, make in an effort to win you over.

It was so easy to just exist like that, even if it was a bit tense. Even if Gobber did reprimand him later for letting someone else mess around in the forge.

Hiccup was too distracted to notice the crunching of footsteps as he approached.

“Why don’t you just a-ask?” Came a familiar voice from behind him, causing his shoulders to jump.

“Fishlegs?!” Hiccup asked, turning around to see the large teen in all his glory. He didn’t realize he voiced his question out loud, earlier.

Hiccup knew he wasn't very intimidating, especially with Toothless out for the count, snoozing away down by the field like the lazy beast he was, yet he scowled anyways.

They were usually on good terms after the Red Death, Fishlegs was the only other guy on the island who was anywhere near as different as Hiccup, though not quite and not really in the same way. Too bad he sucked.

“I-I wasn’t writing them for her,” Fishlegs stuttered, knowing exactly what Hiccup was talking about, even without words.

Hiccup glowered at him, “Then who were you writing them for?”

He sputtered, embarrassed.

“Yeah,” Hiccup grumbled, burying his head back in his arms, “That’s what I thought.”

Hiccup liked you.

How did you react to that? Did you react at all? Could you even call him fictional, anymore? Was this your new reality?

Why was that the first thing your mind jumped to? 

Work done, you let your feet wave, sat on one end of the docks, a part hidden under and around the large, unstable-looking pillars holding up the steep ramp back up to the village. The ocean waved under your feet, roiling and crashing, mimicking the larger waves against the rocks and craigs farther out.

The idea that you might have won over a fictional character somehow was sort of ridiculous. It seemed to breach some sort of unspoken boundary, some separation between reality and unreality.

There was a level of permanence to the idea that felt weird to you.

You blinked, the setting sun glazing over the world with orange. You wondered what the rest of the world looked like out here, if everything was the same, if you could venture out into the world and find the place your home should have been standing emptied, occupied by nature and nothing.

You felt at the flower stem in your hand with your fingers, letting it fall until it rested against your tips. You had a hard time believing it was real, keeping it safely tucked away in one of your pockets as you went about your daily life.

Were you and Hiccup even friends? You would like to say that, you realized.

You and he met up more than people who had nothing to do with each other did. He had at least three scars that you could name that had something to do with you.

A friendship was something real.

It was anchoring.

You shivered as the wind blew a cold sea spray onto your face.

You didn’t think you’d ever make it back home. It seemed unreal at this point that you had come from anywhere else, the grass under your feet and the splintered wood of Berk more real and tangible than anything you could reach from your old life with just your mind and your memories. 

So, in that way, it wasn’t something you could leave behind.

It was fresh.

How could you like him if you only just realized you were friends? 

You weren’t sure you could even muster up the energy to consider it.

You had a hard time believing everything was real sometimes, even as you nervously picked the grit out from under your fingernails.

You changed things. The idea filled you with nervous, jittery energy. It was sort of dangerous, made you feel sort of unsure. It made the world around you seem stranger, a little bit more dangerous.

Did the flowers even really mean anything? How common was it to give flowers here? Sure, it wasn’t that common, but you were certain you heard of it happening at least once.

Of course Vikings gave flowers. Everyone gave flowers, for a million different reasons. You didn’t exactly have an itinerary- no, an encyclopedia- or wifi to look up a reference.

Hiccup was probably just saying thank you or something. The idea made you feel easier, anyways.

It was harder to consider the alternative.

[shatcey]

1st anniversary (Victor)

William Victor Victor epilogue Liam Liam epilogue

In this part of the event, you could choose between William, Victor, Elbert, Alfons and Roger. I didn't even consider the latter (sorry… I just don't like big guys, not my type, as I recently realized. I'm very slow). But everyone else… It's very tempting. And the idea of saving the story was also extremely tempting. And the fact that I'll probably never read it again won't stop me. It is saved, and I can re-read it at any time… That's all that matters.

So, I chose William with both endings because… why not. And I couldn't choose another one. I didn't want to waste resources on this part of the event, because on the second one will be Ellis AND Jude and I want them both. I really did said that.

After William's story, I got a little worried. I don't wanna think about depressing and upsetting things on the anniversary. So… Elbert somehow disappeared. And Alfie… I can't even find the strength to start his route, how can I choose his event?.. So, the logical conclusion led me to Victor.

It was an absolutely logical decision. Not the birdcage you get for completing the premium ending… And, of course, not the opportunity to buy his epilogue. I'm still considering this option…

So...

If in Will's story was many reminiscences from the prologue, then Victor's story goes even further… There are a lot of reminiscences not only from the prologue, but also from previous events.

Victor once again asks William to decide whether Kate is suitable for this job or not, because… he cannot decide for himself. But William, smiling slyly, turned him down.

Right... he already did it ones. Your turn!

Victor goes to his room, remembering why he hired Kate in the first place.

At that moment, Kate noticed Victor and approached him. She was looking for him to gave her report. And suddenly…

Kate was surprised at first, and he really thought he had been rejected. But she explained that he had never asked her out before… This is the first time. When she gladly agreed and offered to visit some other place. They went to the train.

Victor continues to think that to choose and silence are becoming quite unsettling. Kate starts talking about boys, just to break the ice. Vic thinks they don't know much about each other outside of work.

At the next station, Vic open the window and explain to Kate that if you do so, a flower seller will approach them. So he did. Vic asks what her favorite flower is.

I'm really curious what happened to these flowers? Because… they run around all day, and no one mentioned flowers after that. And yes, it was very sweet of him. But I remember how annoying it is to carry flowers while you on the date… (exhales) Ok…

So they went to another city, and Kate really enjoyed it so very much.

Vic remembers their interaction at different events

"Erase love"? Now I'm scared...

This is from Luxury Liner event

I think it's from the Black wedding event

And he thinks Kate always wanted to stay by his side. It's clear that the Crown benefits from her presence, but what about Kate? Vic noticed that Kate was having fun and decided to follow suit.

They went down to the city and there was a competition. They are, of course, desided participate. And Vic found something in common with her

They win, probably because they look so dashing, and everyone else is too distracted. He, as usual, shows his trick with a pigeon. I can't separate one from the other anymore.

And after that, they return by train. Kate thanks him for a wonderful day and says she will never forget it. And suddenly she mentioned that Vic doesn't do anything without a reason. He agrees and tells her that he decides to let her stay or release her from work. She suddenly felt very sad when she remembered her life before the crown

She asks to be allowed to stay. She likes this job, she thinks she has a lot to learn from Victor, and then she turns around to leave… The next stop is theirs…

Victor, looking at her back, realised…

I'm getting goosebumps from that line… It's so cute))) And look at his face... he's so pretty here...

He hugs her from behind and tells her that he thinks

Awwww… But no, he ended up saying, "Would you continue to be a fairy teller?". It's a pity. What a wonderful declaration of love it could be.

She happily agrees, and after that they go to the park. She asks him to go on a date without reason next time. He thinks she probably likes him, but he can't afford to get too attached to her.

And I'm not sure about this translation, so I'll show you the original

So… He doesn't want her to become one of the victims of his curse, but he cannot figure out the nature of his feelings for her. Something like that. Correct me if I'm wrong.

I bought his epilogue. But too many story events going at the same time have burned out my brain, and I need time to recover. But I will definitely read it later. It must be very interesting.

About this story. I didn't expect Victor to think so much, considering how easy-going and light headed he seems to be. And at first I was a little worried that this story would turn out to be as dark as Williams'. But Victor is as predictable as the weather, so it's always fun to be around.

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🔝 Start page 🔝

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[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Hi RTA! I was thinking about somthing the other day, pertaining MM and Harry and all the lies they tell. I thought, since you are the rumour expert, you might tell me if I am way off the mark here.

I think the only reason MM and H have been able to go on this long with the attacks agaiinst W&C, the BRF and the British public for that matter, is that whole "never explain" thing the royals have. I mean, we can go and look at the evidence we may collect, hearsay, what we remember or what we think, and we can come up with our own conclussions, drop them here and talk ad nauseam about how horrible something is (usually somethig Just Harry and the desterate wife of Mntecito do). Still.. is just guessing, most of the time. Because even if we have evidence of certain things, many of those, and many of the importnat ones, are still in a cloud of "truth or not". And that happens because the other party involved -W&C/BRF- do not tell us. Sure, they send a ballon to a newspaper with an ally journo, let someone know that someone close heard something, and so on..but there is no actual answers.

Take Spare(me) for example. Bitchy Harry whined and whined and whined for 200+ pages about everything and everyone. Sure, some people came out and gave their versions. But how about all the crap he said about William? About his father?

One of the main targets for MM´s venomous crap has been Catherine. How about her side?

I know this may not make any sense, but I feel as if, as long as the BRF is quiet (I trully believe in the silent treatment, grey stoning and the long game) MM and H will keep hurting our inteligences with more and more crap, and no matter how much we royal followers analyse and discover and defend, I don´t think there is an end in sight for the Sussex lies as long as the most affected ones (besides my brain cells) have to remain silenced. And how much are MM and H counting on that mandatory stoic silence to keep annoying and attacking and being gigantic pains in the brain for everyone?

Sorry for the morning rant. Something I posted on another blog led to this rabbit hole.

Old ask from July 8th

We’re thinking the same thing. The BRF’s “never explain, never complain” is why the Sussexes have been so effective with their attacks…and also why the Sussexes’ attacks increasingly have no more punch.

On the one hand, “never explain, never complain” means that the Sussexes get to control the narrative and be victims of the big bad BRF. As we’ve seen, it’s been somewhat effective.

But on the other hand, “never explain, never complain” means the BRF doesn’t react to provocation in the media. Which means that for the Sussexes to get the BRF to react and respond to them, they have to keep escalating their attacks and when they escalate their attacks, they also change the story of what happened. And when they change the story, they end up showing their hand that it’s all smoke and they don’t actually have real issues or real criticism, that they’re just doing all this for attention - the Sussexes end up undermining themselves. And as we’ve also seen, this has been very effective.

But the problem is that Charles keeps sneaking around “never explain never complain” with trial balloons designed to gauge public support for bringing the Sussexes (or at least Harry) back into the fold, which helps the Sussexes portray themselves as winning.

As for the BRF’s side, history will tell their versions. William, Kate, and Charles will have biographies written for them by reputable, authorized, credentialed, and respected authors. It’ll take time. It’ll take a lot of time, time that a lot of us probably don’t have and may never see happen. Once those biographies and retrospectives come out, the narratives will reset and the Sussexes will become but a footnote.

Of course the challenge there is whether the narratives will be the Sussexes’ version or if it’ll be the actual, recorded history version. I suspect it will be the latter, as more people go on the record as time passes to fix the messes Harry and Meghan made, particularly if there’s a divorce and if Charles wants to rehabilitate Harry’s reputation to bring him back into the family (note: small f-family, which is the private/personal side of monarchy, not big F-Family, which is the official public working side of monarchy).

Because after all, time heals most wounds. And if time doesn’t fix these wounds, history will, because history is written by the victor and the crown always wins.

[cilil]

Fun times in Valinor feat. Melian and Dior

✦ I like to imagine that Dior did in fact receive the opportunity to choose his fate as well, chose immortality for the sake of his family and ended up in Valinor (may make a more detailed and less silly post about that in future).

✦ As soon as he gets out of Mandos he's practically ambushed by Melian who is overjoyed to have at least one of her descendants back, takes him under her wing and immediately adopts him as her replacement baby.

✦ She drags him around Valinor like a mother cat carrying her kitten (metaphorically speaking) to show him off to her Ainurin friends. Said friends, particularly those more concerned with spiritual matters and not at all familiar with incarnate procreation, are a bit weirded out by being presented the living, breathing offspring of a fellow spirit, said offspring being of rather ambiguous nature as well, but since the entire Ainurin race is based on everyone being a cryptid in their own right, they all warm up to him quickly.

✦ Melian teaches Dior to sing like a nightingale and other bird calls and he performs admirably, though causes confusion when he doesn't turn into a bird. She may also teach him Valarin so he knows when people are talking shit.

✦ Some Ainur are still confused by Dior being incarnate in general and try to encourage and help him shed his form. They need to be reminded that Dior was in fact born and raised incarnate, is happy and content being that way and that his incarnate state is not a symptom of being spiritually drained or otherwise unwell.

✦ Since Dior died young - even by mortal standards - Melian's Ainurin friends tend to erroneously assume that he's a literal baby. These discussions usually escalate when it comes to them refusing to give him Miruvórë and Dior wins arguments by reminding everyone that they have met his adult daughter.

✦ Wanting to befriend him and make Melian happy, other Ainur like to bring them gifts, usually something they think would be useful to an incarnate. Sometimes they're spot on, such as when they bring delicious treats and fresh food, sometimes their gifts are a clear reflection of their kind not quite understanding incarnates, such as half-torn-apart blood sacrifices and dangerous animals and substances. Melian doesn't react well to the latter.

✦ She's especially worried whenever Dior displays any sort of human behavior because part of her wonders if through some strange happenstance he will become mortal, in which case she assumes he might just fall over and die within the next 5 minutes (read: what her species of angels older than the universe sees as "5 minutes").

✦ Dior loves being taught "magic". Melian has no idea what he means by that, only knowing he picked up the word from Beren, but is happy that he's happy.