#in that regard. and that’s literally not my fault because I didn’t know and there’s nothing I could have done

[illumiiiz]

I know I complain a lotttt about living at my dad’s and wanting to move out sooo badly but I really do love my dad. and all things considered it is nice living with him still. like yeah I don’t have as much space as I’d like and I feel like I wasted most of my life so far so I get really antsy about moving out and having my own freedom, and my bf and I decided we each need to live on our own for a couple years before we get married and he’s already been moved out of his parents’ for a few months so I feel behind and I want to get started on that as soon as possible so we can get married asap but like. it’s really not as bad living here as I make it out to be sometimes. and also I don’t live with my mom anymore.

[nereidprinc3ss]

hi!!! here for a request. can we have a imagine where reader has a wound from surgery or whatever on like in a rib and she hides to change the bandages but then spencer sees her and he’s like ‘lemme help you’ and…

you do you for the rest!

in which spencer helps BAU fem!reader change her bandages in the bathroom at work. it's intimate, and he's adorable and awkward, and it only fuels her terrible, terrible crush.

warnings/tags: fluff, talk/description of wound, brief talk of being stabbed (does not actually occur in this fic lol), reader wears a bra, spencer undoes said bra but not sexually, lots of suggestive humor and teasing, a TINY sprinkling of angst but not really, idiots in love

a/n: i'm picturing early seasons spencer and it is filling me with so much unbridled joy. I. LOVE. HIM. thank you for the request!! and lets not talk about how inconsistent my formatting for requests is pls and thanks!!

It’s not like you meant to bend down so quickly that your wound reopened—but here you are, suffering the consequences of your actions in the women’s bathroom at Quantico as you try to assess the injury before you re-bandage it. And your shoe is still untied. 

Unfortunately, the fact that you had quite literally been stabbed in the back last week makes it hard to reach said injury—especially when you’re at work and so can’t take off your shirt like you normally would. And all this struggling means it’s taking longer than it should, so now you’re focused on the wound and its scabby, wet edges and all the things it’s secreting rather than hurrying to give another statement of the entire event to Hotch since the first one had apparently been too sparse on the details. 

A knock sounds on the open door. Spencer calls your name. 

“You in there?”

The angle of your neck has your voice slightly strained as you call back, “yeah, what’s up? Is it Hotch?” you pause to hiss as you accidentally scratch at the wound with a nail. You don’t even want to know how much bacteria you just introduced to it. “Tell him I didn’t forget our meeting, I’ll be there in—”

“It’s not Hotch. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay with your back? I know you said you were going to check on it, but you’ve been in there a while.”

You sigh, dropping your sore arm as you continue to hold up your shirt with the other and regarding the reflection of your back in the mirror. 

“Actually—could you come in here?”

There’s a pause. 

“You want me to come into the women’s restroom?”

“Yes, Spencer. It’s fine. There’s nobody else in here. I just… I need some help, I think.”

The last part is admitted quietly, with an air of defeat. To admit to needing help, is, by your standards, the same as failure. Spencer knows this, which is probably the only reason he puts aside his hesitations and shuffles uncertainly into the tiled room. If you’re asking for help, it’s because you really need it. 

“What do you need help with?” he asks, sweeping his gaze suspiciously around the lavatory as if you were lying about there not being any other women present and this whole thing might be a trap of some sort. 

“It’s gross, and you can totally say no.”

He raises his brows expectantly, before spotting the weeping wound on your back. Unconsciously he steps closer, leaning forward. It’s not your fault, and the gore is not specific to you—anyone’s body would react this way to being stabbed. But you still feel embarrassed by the close attention to such an ugly marring, which nobody besides you and your doctors has actually seen up close.

“That doesn’t look good,” he mutters. The expression on his face is irritatingly familiar—the drawn brows, tightened eyes, barely parted lips—but it takes a moment before you realize what it is. 

“Reid,” you complain. He’s still stooped over slightly to examine the wound, and looks up at you through dark lashes with those infuriatingly warm puppydog eyes.

“What?”

“You’re looking at me the way you look at a dead body on the slab.”

His nose scrunches.

Some might say it scrunches adorably. 

“No, I’m not. That’s just my face.”

“Okay, well stop. It’s freaking me out.”

He pouts—actually pouts. Subtle, but bottom lip jutted out and all. It’s ridiculously endearing. 

“My face freaks you out?”

“Wh—no! That’s not what I said! You have—you have a great face! I didn’t mean—” 

You manage to claw yourself out of the hole you’re digging when you see the dopey smile growing on his face. 

Oh. He was fucking with you. 

He never used to do that. It’s unnerving to be the fucked with instead of the fucker for a change. Especially when it’s Spencer. 

“What did you need me for?” Spencer asks by way of peace offering. You close your eyes and sigh, attempting to collect your thoughts without his presence re-scrambling them.  

“Um—I just need you to put this bandage over it. I can’t reach without taking my shirt off.”

And now you’re forced to wonder if he’s thinking about you shirtless as much as you’re thinking about you shirtless.

“Yeah—don’t do that,” he says absentmindedly, stepping again closer to get a better look before turning to the nearest sink.

For some reason, this offends you. 

“Why not?”

Spencer pulls another face as he washes his hands—you love the constant flow of expressions he always seems so unconscious of. Even when they’re not pleasant and directed at you.  

“Are you asking me why shouldn’t you take your shirt off?” he clarifies. 

“I know why I shouldn’t take my shirt off, but I want to know why you think I shouldn’t take my shirt off.”

“Because we’re at work?” he observes astutely. You frown deeply at his completely logical reply. Spencer chuckles as he dries his hands and approaches once more, taking the square of gauze pre-lined with medical tape from your hand. “I mean, I can’t stop you. But it would be kind of a weird choice.”

“Oh, so me shirtless is weird?”

Cool fingers meet the comparatively hot skin of your back—where everything is still sensitive because the wound wreaked havoc on your nerves there. You flinch slightly. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs gently. Though his touch is so incredibly light it doesn’t really hurt—it hurts much less than when you’re tending to the wound, anyway. It’s almost soothing. After a moment he continues, a bit louder. “And that is not what I was saying. But I am completely comfortable asserting that it would be weird for you to be shirtless at work.”

The gentle touches contrast with his teasing words and serve to disorient you as you’re shaken back in to your usual dynamic. Which is markedly more sarcastic. 

“Well—”

Before you have to think of something to say, Spencer interrupts you. 

“Your, um—I think your… brassiere… is in the way.”

As soon as he says it you burst out laughing. It echoes through the room. 

“My brassiere? Are you actually 70 years old?”

His brows knit even tighter and his face gets very pink very quickly. He can’t meet your eyes over your shoulder. 

“That’s what it’s called.”

“Spencer, you may be the first person to use that word since 1952. Say bra.”

“I don’t want to,” he complains. Your laughter only grows as your head tips back. 

“Why? How is brassiere better than bra?”

“It’s—it’s too colloquial! I’m trying to be professional!”

“Call it a bra or I’m going to rub my dirty hands all over my back,” you threaten, adopting a poker face so he knows you mean business. His eyes widen immediately. 

“Oh my god! Bra! Do you want to introduce staph and meningitis and g—do not do that!”

“See? How hard was that?”

“I hate you,” he mumbles, face still flushed and adorable. “And you still have to take it off.”

“Excuse me?” you grin, pretending to be affronted because you know he didn’t mean it like that but it’s fun to pretend he did. Fun for you, of course. Not so much for him. He's utterly flustered by this point.

“Or at least undo it! It’s in the way.”

With a deeply bored sigh, you go to unclasp your bra—but as you go to do it your shirt drops down. You grimace, humor briefly forgotten as the fabric brushes the damaged skin. 

“I can’t—”

“Okay, just—I’ll do it,” Spencer says. “Just move your shirt again.”

So you do, watching his reflection as he works.

And you have not one joke to break the heavy silence with as you feel his knuckles gently pressing into the middle of your back, as he unclasps the bra with his characteristic tenderness and a surprising amount of agility. It’s quiet except for your pulse in your own ears as he carefully pushes it out of his way, holding it down with a hand to your rib cage and fingertips slipping just under the fabric of your shirt—unintentionally and certainly non-sexual, no doubt, but skimming under your heart in a way that still feels so intimate you’re realizing how touch-starved you are. 

“You do that often?” you find yourself asking, because you’re stupid, and you need to cool the tension before it chokes you, and you can’t help yourself even though you don’t actually want to know the answer. 

“I,” he begins, voice quiet as rustling paper, tongue darting over his lip and eyes narrowed. The sentence stalls as he focuses on placing the patch just so. “Do not think that is an appropriate workplace question.”

Something aches in the pit of your stomach. 

Something resembling jealousy. 

It was not the timid evasive linguistic maneuver of someone who is insecure about the thing they’re discussing. It was not the awkward fumbling no but I don’t want to tell you that which you were expecting from Spencer Reid. 

Nor is it an easy yes—an admission between friends. He doesn’t want to tell you. 

You swallow and try to act like yourself. 

“Yet here you are, in the woman’s restroom at our place of employment, undoing my bra. I think we’re past professionalism.”

“When you decontextualize it like that it sounds like something it’s not. This is professional, because I’m helping you with a wound you sustained on the job. I’m being a good colleague.”

Your lips twist into a smile he can’t see. 

“A great colleague would kiss it better.”

“It's almost like you want me to file a sexual harassment complaint with HR," he says through a little smirk as he smooths the bandage over. Before you can snip back, he steamrolls over his own teasing—you’ve both been speaking in almost reverent tones since he started but his voice loses the sarcastic edge from a second before and reverts back to concerned and sweet. “Does that feel okay?”

You rotate your shoulders best you can without letting go of your shirt or flashing the good doctor to check if it feels secure.  

“It’s good. And hey—if I were going to sexually harass you I would do a lot better than that. You think that’s my best material? That’s just the tip of the iceberg. I keep so many inappropriate comments to myself. You’d be shocked by some of the things I have almost said to you.”

He laughs, secures the band of your bra and begins fitting it to the clasp you’d had it on—and at that precise moment Emily walks in. 

“H—woah.”

“It’s—I’m—I was helping her!” Spencer panics, immediately removing his hands from you like his palms are burning and holding them up defensively. 

“Oh, you helped me alright,” you tease, pulling your shirt back into place. 

“Don’t say it like that!” And then, to Emily, “I was changing out her bandage!”

“Changing my bandage,” you emphasize, winking more than is advisable. 

“That’s—this is a hostile work environment! I feel unsafe!” Spencer almost yells, half laughs, as he scampers towards the door. “I’m going to HR!”

“Shut up! You love it!”

His laughter audibly travels farther away for several moments as he presumably goes back down the hallway to do his actual job. 

You have the stupidest grin on your face, but you wipe it off when you notice Emily staring. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” she says, shaking her head and looking away, moving toward a stall. “You’re just… you guys are funny.”

“What do you mean funny?” You demand, standing right outside her stall as she closes it. 

“Wh—I mean funny! Are you going to listen to me pee, you weirdo?”

You frown. 

She makes a good point. 

Unfortunately, giving Hotch a more detailed statement is just as bad as you’d thought it’d be. Despite how cheery you’ve tried to remain about the whole situation, despite the way you insisted that the wound was so shallow you didn’t need more than a few days off work, despite the jokes you make about forgetting it’s even there because it’s on your back—it’s hard not to remember exactly how the glass felt twisting under your skin, how you’d felt suddenly so hot and lightheaded and sick to your stomach and the way Morgan hollered because he didn’t know how deep it had gone after you crumpled quick from shock, when you’re asked to describe it all in excruciating detail. 

It only takes ten minutes, but they seem to drag on and on and by the time you’re leaving Hotch’s office you feel utterly drained. You hurry back to your desk, covertly wiping away moisture that you refuse to allow to become tears. Once seated, and having dodged sympathetic looks and avoided any do you want to talk about its, you allow yourself a few deep breaths with your eyes shut. 

When you open them, you realize there’s a fresh cup of your favorite tea on your desk, in the Snoopy mug the team is always fighting over. Now his little black nose is covered by a square of yellow paper. You’re already smiling as you peel away the sticky note and hold it closer. 

On it is an adorably odd smiley-face, and a note in familiar, messy looping scrawl. 

I would never report you to HR beautiful

That would be a stab in the back!

You snort loudly and clap a hand to your mouth—but you’ve already drawn the attention of almost everyone in the bullpen. 

When you turn to look at Spencer, he’s not looking back. Instead, his eyes are firmly trained on his computer screen. But he’s got his chin propped on his fist over the desk, and his knuckles are doing a poor job of concealing a giant self satisfied grin. He is the only person on the team who knows you well enough to make such a distasteful joke. And he also knows you well enough to know that it would make you feel so much better after your meeting with Hotch than all the well-meaning sincerity in the world ever could.

Funny. 

Maybe that is the right word for what you two are. 

[godmadeaterribleerror]

More Than You Could Ever Know - Part 1

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: On god they're about to be so cute. This was going to be one chapter but they can't stop fucking and I can't stop writing. Enjoy!

Title from All I Want For Christmas is You by Mariah Carey

Word Count: 8.5k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: A No Love Lost Christmas Special! Takes place about five months after the end of No Love Lost, sort of an epilogue to the main story.

The Boys start Secret Santa, Ben pretends to do his job. Usual Warnings, plus smut. Much fluff and smut.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, tooth rotting fluff, smut (fingering, oral f receiving, p in v sex), established relationship, Christmas Special

Part 2

Read on A03!

Doing this in Butcher’s apartment was a terrible idea, because the asshole only cleans when it’s his weekend with Ryan, and you’re right on the wrong end of that. Doing it immediately after work was a worse one, because you’re in heels and a too tight bra that you’re not allow to rip off, throw in Ben’s face, giggling when he all but tackles you into bed.

Doing it without Ben here to smile and pout and snark at might be the worst idea you’ve ever had.

And you’ve had a lot of remarkably fucking terrible ideas.

You’re not really paying attention to your friends around you, because you’re staring at your phone. Turning it around between your hands, waiting for Ben’s text to let you know Ryan’s home from school. That he’s not being bullied, and he’s doing his homework, and his powers didn’t cause what the principal had referred to as structural damage to the school’s foundation, and what Ben had correctly said was just a fucking accident. It’s not Ryan’s fault you pussies put the baseball field right next to the goddamn building.

There haven’t been any incidents since then—Ben had taken Ryan to a large, empty field and helped him figure out how to not turn a ball into a genuine weapon—but it’s still a delicate situation. It took a lot to get Ryan into a public school. A lot of promises of Ryan won’t hurt anyone, you fucking pussies, he’s not a damn baby, and bargains of Ben and I will donate, and go to all the fundraisers, but you’re not allowed to explicitly advertise that Ryan’s here, and many, many thinly veiled threats of if you don’t treat our son like a proper fucking human, I’ll let my wife yell at you. And she’ll rip you to fucking pieces.

You wouldn’t have ripped anyone to pieces. Literal pieces. Emotional pieces had been on the table, as had reputational pieces. It was one of the very few advantages of being so highly and strangely regarded as the woman who killed Homelander and the founder of the Soldier Boy Relief Foundation. People respected you and your opinion, which was an interesting choice on their part, but served you well. Ryan had gotten into the school, and he seemed to be liking it, so you hadn’t even been that mad at Ben for threatening the superintendent.

But you also don’t really get mad at Ben. Not ever. You whack his arms and wrinkle your nose and elbow his gut, but he always feels that you don’t mean it, and you never fight him when he tugs you into his arms and kisses you breathless and dizzy. When he mutters promises about fucking you stupid later, and calls you a brat, and chuckles when you grind onto his thigh in the middle of the office, and you miss him so much-

It’s barely been six fucking hours, Sunshine.

You scowl into the air, even as your whole body sings from the feeling of Ben, strong and deep and flaring in your chest. Shut up, you’re supposed to be picking up Ryan-

Already got him. We’re home.

You were supposed to text me, Benjamin-

Why, I’m telling you right fucking now-

Because Singer’s still on our ass. You sigh, tapping your fingers on the back of your phone. And the Ben’o’phone isn’t admissible in a court of law to prove we’re well-suited parents.

Singer can shove it up his fucking dick-

Ben, please- You cut yourself off as your phone buzzes, the screen lighting up with a message.

Benjamin; Stupid fucking handsome asshole husband

Ryans hoem

R u fuckingg happy sunshine

You smile, typing back Yes. Thank you, grumpy.

Shut the fuck up, Ben grumbles in your head, and all his adoration flares in your chest as you smile into the air like an idiot.

I love you, you massive fucking man-child.

I love you too, brat. Why the fuck aren’t you home yet.

You can almost picture his half-pouting scowl, feel the warmth of his body around you and smell pine drifting through the air. Meeting with everyone.

Everyone.

Yep.

Why the fuck is everyone meeting without me-

Because you’re picking up Ryan.

We could’ve made fucking Butcher do that-

Butcher doesn’t have a super awesome wife who’s going to tell him everything when she gets home, my love.

There’s a pause, and then Ben mutters between the low words of your friends talking around you, Be fucking fast.

MM says your name, looking between you and the bowl on the center of the table. “You put Ben in there?”

I always am. You nod to MM as Ben moves back to a quiet, warm hum in your chest, and tuck your phone into your pocket. “Yeah. I’ll give him his name when I get home.”

“And we’re sure Ben knows how Secret Santa works?” Hughie scratches the back of his neck with a sheepish expression, and you sigh.

“No. But I can explain it to him.”

“Old cunt ever even celebrated Christmas?” Butcher mutters, his feet kicked up on the table. “He don’t seem like the spirit of givin’ type.”

You flip Butcher off, your words short and firm. “He’s not a million Butcher, he’s celebrated Christmas before.”

Ben seems to love Christmas. Or at least grumpily acknowledge it with a soft, easy glow over his ribs and a relaxed face, which is the closest thing he gets to loving something that’s not you or Ryan. He’d told you, at the beginning of the month, that it was the only time his father didn’t drink as much. The only time his mother got to love him and not be caught between he and his father’s fights. The only time he got something as a child that he wasn’t expected to feel sorry or wasteful for receiving. 

You wish there was some sort of supe that could communicate with ghosts or raise the dead. You’d mimic their powers, bring Ben’s father back, and then kill him again.

“Alright, Love.” Butcher raises his hands up in mock surrender. “Just makin’ sure.”

“Suck my fucking dick-“

“Can we, um,” Annie gives you an apologetic look as she cuts you off. “Can we draw? Now? Everyone has work tomorrow, and I would like to go home and eat my weight in sushi.”

Hughie nods, grinning down at Annie. “And watch Love Island.”

“Love Island?” MM raises his brows, and Annie blushes.

“It’s fun-“

“Names, cunts.” Butcher leans forward, pulling his paper, and looks around at the rest of the group. “Before time get’s all our sorry fuckin arses. Except yours. Love,” Butcher winks at you. “You’re stuck ‘ere till the sun goes out.”

“Eat me, Butcher.”

“Oi, I’m not above tellin the Gov you said that-“

“Ben would kick your sorry ass if you said that, Butcher.” MM’s voice is flat as he interrupts, leaning over the table to draw his paper. “You might be a supe now, but that motherfucker would beat up a mountain if it insulted her honor.”

You snort as Butcher’s sour expression, and give MM a grateful nod. Everyone here knows you don’t really have honor—at least not in a way that matters—but they also know that Ben doesn’t really care about that. His notion of your honor is subjective. You’re, apparently, above killing and straining labor, so he does that for you, but he also threatens congressmen and rude parents of Ryan’s classmates with his wife. You don’t lie to him, but he’s flat out encouraged you to commit perjury. He’d threatened a journalist who said you spread your legs for any powerful supe, but then shoved your knees apart to bury himself inside you and fuck you until you were a slurring, whiny mess under him.

It seems to mostly be about what you think of the insult. If that mountain called you a slut and you laughed, Ben would just glower, standing tall and ridged at your side. If it said the same thing and you stopped talking—cold spreading through your body and a ringing in your ears—Ben would make the mountain regret being born.

You miss him so fucking much.

Once everyone has a name and you’re sure no one’s pulled their own name, you leave Butcher’s apartment with grins and half-goodbyes. You, Annie, MM, and Hughie will all see each other tomorrow, and Frenchie, Kimiko, and Butcher will do the same.

It’s a short drive home from Butcher’s apartment, but that’s by design. For Ryan. Butcher lives in the city, and you and Ben are in the outskirt suburbs. You’d say Ben’s benefitting more from this arrangement—Butcher lives right above their office, while you have to drive to downtown for yours—but you’re the one who fought for this. The one who convinced Ben that Philadelphia would be a good place to live, because there was enough to not get bored, not enough that you’d never have peace, and it was halfway between New York and Washington. Most of the supe cleanup contracts that Ben, Butcher, Frenchie, and Kimiko got contracted for ended up being in New York—you’ve called Ben a murder maid several times, and he always rolls his eyes, kisses the top of your head, and mutters we don’t fucking murder people, we just get them in line when they’re being damn idiots—while a lot of your work is in DC, dealing with the more technical side of the post-Vought mess.

Ben hadn’t wanted you to call it the Soldier Boy Relief Foundation. He’d scowled at you as you’d told him and MM the idea, and their glares had been almost identical.

“There’s no fucking way you’re calling it that.” Ben had snapped, and MM had shot him a look of surprise.

“I mean, not that I don’t agree,” MM had said, scanning over Ben with a frown. “But why the hell do you think that.”

“Because Soldier Boy’s fucking dead. You,” he’d bumped his shoulder with yours, rough affection spreading over his ribs, even as he continued to glower. “Fucking killed him, Sunshine. Don’t use that name.”

You’d wrinkled your nose at him. “First of all, that’s very romantic, Pretty Boy. I’ve always wanted to metaphorically murder my husband.”

Brat-

“But,” you’d continued, kicking Ben’s shin as he’d started to smirk. “I have reasons to name it that.”

MM had scoffed. “There is not a chance you’ve got reasons to justify using that name-“

“It will draw attention.” You’d raised your fingers as you listed the reasons, using a bored, plain tone. “The whole point of this is to get as many victims of Vought and Homelander as much help as possible. Labelling it with Soldier Boy’s name will put it on people’s radar-“

“So would calling it the Starlight or Anomaly relief Foundation-“

You’d shaken your head, giving MM a flat look. “Annie’s supe name is already tainted in the public eye. Mine is controversial. If people hear the Anomaly Relief Foundation, they’ll form an automatic opinion based on the trials and news stories they’ve read. Soldier Boy will get people to actually look at what we’re doing. Older victims will be more likely to come out of the woodwork, supes that admired Ben growing up will be more willing to see what we’re offering them, and congress is full of old white assholes who will love it.”

MM had frowned, but nodded for you to continue, and you’d raised a second finger.

“Vought’s copyright on Soldier Boy expired last year, but Starlight and the Anomaly won’t be available for public use for another forty. Even if Vought goes down, they could drag us with them on petty litigations and technicalities, and we don’t need that right now. Finally,” you’d raised a third finger. “I think it’s poetic, and funny, and rubbing how we won in Homelander stupid dead face.”

You’d won that argument. And the argument about where to live. And the argument about letting Butcher have alternate weekends with Ryan.

That last one had been the easiest to win. For the name debate you’d had to convince Ben and MM, and for the city debate you’d had to convince the whole team of stubborn assholes you called your friends, but for the last one you’d only had to convince Ben. And you always convince Ben. He puts up a grumbled argument, and you tear down his points with teasing, loving words, and he gives in with a grunt. But you always see his small grin, and feel all his love and care and affection bursting from that piece of him near your heart, and he devours your face and neck and cunt until your knees get weak and you almost fall over.

You might love him more than life.

He’s waiting for you when you get home. You barely open the door before he’s on you, sweeping you into a long, deep kiss and groaning down your throat.

Hi, Benjamin. You mumble between your heads, and his chuckle rolls through your whole body.

“Hi, Sunshine.” He grins at you as he pulls away, hauling you up his chest as you gape at him a little stupidly. It’s not fair how he somehow keeps getting more handsome, how a domestic, peaceful life looks so good on him it might drive you insane. How his shirt under your hands is clean and soft and easy to tug on, to pull him back onto your mouth. How, when you finally get your shoes off, they’re on a mat right next to his, and that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy. How his beard is so well-trimmed because there’s nothing to rush for, and the whole house smells like pine because of Ben’s constant presence, and when he carries you up the stairs he doesn’t bother to look where he’s going because he already has the path memorized.

“Wait,” you push up on Ben’s chest, dropping your chin on his shoulder. “Ryan-“

“Hi!” Ryan calls your name from downstairs. “I’m doing homework!”

Don’t know how the fuck he’s my blood. Ben mutters in your head, never breaking his pace. He’s all damn smart and good at homework. “You know the drill, Kid?”

“Dinner in forty, only bother you if it’s an emergency!”

Smug pride inflates in Ben’s chest, and when you lean back he’s already grinning at you with darkened, blown out eyes, his half-hard cock already poking at your thigh.

You wrinkle your nose at him. We are not fucking with Ryan in the house.

We fuck with Ryan in the house all the damn time-

When he’s asleep, or watching TV, or has his headphones on. Not when he can hear it.

Then we’ll have him put headphones on-

You are not asking Ryan to use his headphones so we can have sex. You give Ben’s borderline pout a sweet smile, and lean forward to kiss over his beard. But when he goes to bed, I’ll let you do the thing.

Ben’s hunger grows white-hot and ravenous in your body, and when you meet his eyes, they’re darkened and peeling you apart. You have to squirt.

I can’t control that-

Whatever. Ben kicks open the door to your room, shooting you a wink. You have to let me make you fucking squirt, beautiful. No holding back.

You snort. When have you ever held back during sex.

I managed not to fuck you for six goddamn months. His voice is almost a growl in your head, and it’s not help your resolve to not have sex in the slightest. That’s some goddamn restraint, brat. He drops his mouth to that one spot on your throat, sucking and biting until your fingers curl in his hair. You’re fucking hot.

Thanks. Your voice is breathless, even between your heads, and you give a weak pull of Ben’s hair that only spurs him on. Wait, Ben, I need to talk to you-

That makes his pull away in an instant, his attention vigilant as he scans over your face, your skin suddenly wrapped in his concrete resolve. What the fuck is-

Nothing’s wrong. You take his face between your hands, giving him a soft smile. It’s about the meeting with everyone.

The one that you didn’t fucking invite me to.

The one, you swat at his arm, sticking your tongue out. That I’m trying to tell you about now, you big baby.

Fine. Ben grumbles in your head, watching you expectantly. What.

Have you ever done Secret Santa before?

Once. Vought party in the 80s.

You raise your brows at him. Really? How did that go?

I don’t fucking remember-

Well, it was forty years ago. You hold his face between your hands with a mock pout. Is your memory going, Benjamin? Do Ryan and I have to put you in a home-

Shut the fuck up, brat. Ben moves you flat on your back, kissing a very distracting line along your jaw as your finger curl in his hair.

Ben- You tug him back up—because if he keeps that up, you’ll never get around to telling him anything except more—and the asshole rises up with his hunger covering your bones and muscles, his body big and warm and strong over yours-

“Yes, darling?” Ben drawls, smirking down at you, and you scowl.

“You’re such a fucking cunt-“

“You love it,” he shrugs, still hovering over your body. “Tell me what the fuck the meeting was about to so I,” he pushes his knee between your thighs. “Can focus on this.”

Not with Ryan in the house-

You’ll just have to be quiet. He presses his knee up, bumping right over your clit, and grins at your small whine. Tell me about the meeting.

We’re, fuck- You grind pathetically against him, and Ben drops his weight to down to trap you against the mattress stilling the movements. You dick-

I’ll give you my dick. He kisses you once, long and slow, guiding your arms fully around his neck. Just use your fucking words, beautiful.

It’s a miracle you remember how words work, let alone say any of them, because Ben dives back down to your neck—keeping you pinned down as he works you into a gasping, writhing mess under him—and everything becomes very simply Ben in your mind and body.

“I, um,” he nips at your throat, and you have to swallow a moan. “Kimiko wanted to do something, for the Holidays, and Hughie suggested Secret Santa, so we’re, fuck, Ben, we’re doing that-“

Ben rises back up to frown at you, and you whine at the loss. “Doing what.”

“Secret Santa,” you whisper, taking the moment of his distraction to wrap your legs around his torso. “I put your name in, and, um,” you let go of him for a second, fumbling around in your pocket for Ben’s paper, folded neatly while yours was crumpled. “I grabbed yours.”

Ben wraps an arm around you as he sits up, pulling you to fall over his chest and curl in his lap. “That,” he nods to the paper, still in your hand. “Is who I have to get the gift for.”

You nod with a hum, passing it into his hand. “I didn’t look,” you say, watching him un-wrinkle it. “So don’t-“

“Butcher?” Ben looks up at you with a scowl, a hot, stinging itch spreading over his skin and sitting in his fingers. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with Butcher.”

You sigh. “Tell me. Don’t tell me, Ben.”

“I had to fucking tell you,” he snaps your name, glaring at the paper. “I can’t get a gift for fucking Butcher, all he does is fucking work and pussy around, fucking asshole probably doesn’t even want anything like a normal damn human-“

“There has to be something.” You mumble, tapping your fingers on Ben’s arm. “We’ll figure it out, Ben. I’ll help you. But you can’t tell anyone I did, and you have to pretend you don’t think this is stupid-“

“I don’t think it’s stupid-”

You give him a flat look. “Benjamin-“

“I think Butcher’s a fucking ball strainer.” Ben shrugs, fisting his paper into a ball and tossing it onto the floor. “But I’ve got you, Sunshine, so I’m good.”

You flush, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Ball strainer’s a new one. I like it.”

“Good,” Ben mutters, relaxing under your hands, the glow returning in his chest. “Who the fuck did you get.”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Why the fuck not, I told you mine-“

“Which you weren’t supposed to do.” You give him a flat look, and he rolls his eyes. “It’s Secret Santa. You’ll find out with everyone else.

“What’s the fucking point of being married,” Ben grumbles, pulling you a little further up his chest. “If my wife won’t tell me all her secrets.”

“You already know all my secrets, Benjamin.”

“Not fucking all of them-“

“This isn’t a secret.” You smile at him, and the glow spreads up his spine. “It’s a surprise.”

“Whatever.” He grumbles. “Sounds like a fucking secret.”

You kiss his cheek with a soft hum. “Grumpy-“

Your words die in a yelp as Ben flips you over, crashing his mouth into yours with a fervor, his hands squeezing and kneading at your waist.

“Brat,” he growls, and you have to bite your tongue to hold down a loud plea of his name. “I’m going to fuck you stupid, Sunshine, make you fucking drool and beg.” He bites on your lower lip, his knee pushing back to your core, and you whimper. “But you need to keep quiet.”

You will not be able to keep quiet. You’re grinding desperately against him, your mouth slack and open, and your whole body warm and sensitive and buzzing with Ben. Leaving wet, open kisses down your neck, replacing his knee with a broad hand cupping your pussy, groaning onto your skin as he twitches against your thigh.

“Ben-“

“Do you need some fucking help?” He drawls, crawling back up over you with a smirk. “Can’t keep that smart, pretty mouth closed?”

“Fuck,” you gasp as he pushes your panties to the side, running one finger between your folds. “God, Ben, fuck you-“

“I will.” He winks at you, his whole body still filled with adoration and hunger as his tone becomes stern. “Just ask real fucking nice, and I’ll fuck you all you damn want, Sunshine.”

“Ben, please-“

“Think you can keep it the fuck down?”

You nod frantically as Ben’s thumb moves to your clit, rubbing around it but never on it. A metallic tang sits in your mouth as you chew through your cheek, and Ben must see the tint of red or feel the sting of pain, because he pulls back suddenly, and you can’t stop your moan of protest.

“Not going to let you fucking hurt yourself.” He mutters, raising your legs up as he pulls off your underwear. You can talk here, he balls up the cloth, rising back up over your body. But that’s it. Got it?

You glance at the underwear in his hand, and swallow as you realize what he means, your mouth falling open without a single other thought.

Fucking words-

Got it. You smile up at him, curling a hand in his shirt to tug him down into a deep, easy kiss, pulling his tongue between your teeth. Fuck me.

He rises back up, scanning over your features with an attentive, rough care that pulls you apart and makes your whole body molten. There’s a sharp, sore ache over his skin and in his muscles, his free hand trailing slowly over your thighs, and God, if he doesn’t fuck you right now you might die.

Please, Ben. You grind up into the air, letting all of your love and thirst for him leak out of your body and into his. Please.

You can see the moment it hits him. His eyes flash, his nostrils flare, and if there was anything holding him back from just fucking you it’s gone. He presses his thumb on your lower lip in a silent request for you to open, and when you do he looks almost feral. He groans as he stuffs your panties into your mouth, tracing broad fingers over your cheekbones and squeezing your waist as he draws back.

Going to go slow, he mutters in your head, angling your hips up into the air so your ass is resting on his thighs, your dripping pussy is fully at his mercy. Take my fucking time.

Ben-

He slaps your pussy once, and your moan is muffled as your eyes roll back in your head.

So fucking wet, he says your name in the silence, smirking at you as he repeats the movement and your hips buck into the air. And fucking needy, already whining and I’ve barely damn touched you-

Please, you widen your eyes at him, your fingers curling in the sheets when he drags his thumb up, over your slit, and presses hard on your clit. Fuck, Ben-

What do you want, darling. He presses his thumb down, angling it so he can tease your already fluttering cunt with two forefingers. You want my fingers? He shoves them deep into you, crooking them as they hit that deep, soft spot that makes everything in your body sing.

Fuck-

Or, he kisses a sloppy path down your chest—pausing only to flick his tongue over your nipple and smirk at your high, muffled noise of need—and moves one hand back to your hips, adjusting you further upwards as he buries his face between your legs. My mouth?

His beard brushes and tickles your thighs as he tongue-fucks you, his nose bumping your clit, and God, it’s everything. Ben’s everything. Just the sight of him—in all his stupid, handsome glory, all of it just for you—makes you dizzy. And he’s touching you like you’re holy and grinning against your cunt as you make high, muffled sounds, and you’re so close already and he’s so good-

Ben. You don’t have to the strength to push up on your elbows and fully look at him, and he’s holding you still with big, warms hands that pull and rub at your skin, so all you can do is moan into the mock-gag and arch your back when he licks a rough stripe up your cunt. Fuck, Ben, I need you, please-

He hums against you, flattening his tongue on your clit as one hand snakes back under your ass, playing and teasing around your cunt, never pushing in. You like this, darling? Like getting my mouth and fingers the needy fucking miracle you are, like it when I fucking worship your perfect pussy-

Yes, please-

He shoves two fingers back into you, pumping and scissoring as he flicks his tongue over that bundle of nerves. Tell me how good it feels, Sunshine, talk to me-

So good, you whine, and he chuckles in a way that rolls right into the tight coil near your gut. Fuck, Ben, fuck me, please-

That what you want? He rises back up with one last suck of your clit, leaving you whining and empty and fuck, he’s so handsome and all yours and looking at you like you’re some sort of god-

Benjamin-

His cock slaps on your clit—you don’t even know when he took off his pants, because everything is just a haze of warm and pine and Ben and good—and you fucking squeal.

You want my fucking cock, beautiful? Want me to make you squirt all over my fucking dick, fuck you like you deserve, fuck you until that smart, pretty mouth is fucking drooling and screaming my name-

Please, you hook your legs around his waist, trying to guide him inside you. Want you-

Beg.

I did, you asshole- The gag barely muffles your moan as Ben teases the head of his cock inside you, and you almost fly off the bed. Fuck, please-

More.

Please, Ben, please fuck me, please-

Good girl. He pushes himself inside you without further warning, primal satisfaction glowing over his ribs and abdomen as ghosting, iridescent fire covers your skin. So fucking beautiful, he growls your name between your heads, dragging himself out and slamming back in with a bruising force. Fucking perfect. So tight and wet for me, Sunshine, always so fucking good-

Ben groans as you squeeze around him, but he doesn’t pick up the pace. He just moves your hips a little higher, towering over you as he slowly thrusts in and out of your aching pussy.

Fuck, you’re a goddamn marvel, beautiful, feel like fucking heaven, could die here-

Ben, you whimper around your underwear, somehow finding the strength to reach up to him. Please, faster-

It’s all he needs. Ben’s praise becomes slurred as he fucks into you at an inhuman pace, his skin slapping sinfully against yours and his cock bumping your cervix with every thrust.

Christ, fuck- He falls over you, kissing over your collarbone before sucking on your neck, his movements becoming jerking and uncontrolled. You’re- fuck- Such a good girl, taking my cock so fucking good, fucking made for me, best fucking pussy I’ve ever seen, fucking love you-

You’re so close. Everything in you is alight and desperate for release, and you’re only a split second from begging for it when Ben groans against you, rising up to watch you with a devout, starved focus you can feel pounding in your heart.

You’re perfect. His voice in your head is deep and so fucking hungry, and you whimper. Cum, Sunshine.

Release rips through your body, and Ben rips your underwear out of your mouth, slamming his lips over yours and kissing you into the mattress. You scream down his throat as he fucks you through your orgasm, and when something warm and wet flows out of your pussy, Ben’s cock starts to jerk and spill into you. It’s so warm and blissful and made of Ben’s ardor and pleasure, and it sends you over the edge once more.

Neither of you try to move for a minute, Ben’s brow dropping to yours as you sit in his safe, certain warmth.

“We’ve got dinner.” He mutters, kissing the space between your eyes as he pulls out of you. “Go shower, beautiful.”

“You need to shower as well-“

“I’ll shower after.” Ben shrugs, rubbing on your thigh as he sits on the edge of the mattress. “You’re a bigger mess than me, darling.”

“Then I,” you mumble, and he rolls his eyes, jagged affection flaring in his body. “And I’m only a mess because you’re a tease, Pretty Boy.”

Ben snorts, leaning down to give you one last, soft kiss. “You love it,” he mutters onto your lips. “See you downstairs.”

You don’t move for a while after the door closes behind him, and you don’t know how long passes when Ben sparks in your chest, his words low in your head.

Move, Sunshine. Dinner’s almost ready.

Shut up. You smile at the ceiling, because he’d known you would still just be lying, fucked out, in bed. I hate you.

No you don’t. You fucking love me. 

I’m allowed to feel two things, cunt.

But you don’t, brat. Say it.

You roll your eyes, pushing up on the bed. I love you, you dick.

I love you too. You feel him glow in your body, and you shuffle to find where Ben had tossed your pants. See you in ten.

You nod mindlessly into the air, and pull your own paper out, smiling easily at the name. See you soon, my love.

—————

Ben worked in a fucking office. He did a goddamn commute every weekday, got dropped off at a fucking office, received a paper bag and a kiss on the cheek from his wife, then worked from nine to fucking five.

In a fucking office.

At a fucking desk.

Ben had a fucking desk. With a computer and stupid chair that spun in a circle and a mug that his son had gotten him. It said World’s Greatest Grandpa, and his wife had almost fallen over laughing when Ben showed it to her.

You think that’s fucking funny, Sunshine-

I know it’s funny, Benjamin. She’s kissed him, alive and beautiful in his arms, leaning into his body like she’d never want to be anywhere else. And they were out of Dad mugs, so it was either that or you being the World’s Best Mom.

Ben had rolled his eyes, then kept that mug where he could see it all the time. At his desk.

In his fucking office.

His office with a horrible fucking paint job, and lights that barely worked, and a printer that he had no damn idea how to use. It was why he made Kimiko print out photos of Her and Ryan, and he spent most of the day just fucking staring at them and bothering Her through the brain connection while she worked.

Because Ben was—as She’d call it—being a dramatic fucking man child. He only actually went in once or twice a week, for briefs on new missions and paperwork on old ones. The worst part of the whole fucking thing was that he still couldn’t figure out the fucking computer, and every few weeks he had to sleep at a hotel in New York for a case. In reality he got paid damn well, woke up next to the most beautiful woman in fucking history every morning, and picked his son up from school every afternoon. He got to do work he didn’t hate, and work with people who he—against his fucking will—liked enough not to kill.

Butcher was calling it a Private Military Company. She called it Supe Cleanup. And murder maid, but most supe cleanup.

She was fucking right. In all the jobs Butcher had found for them, exactly two had been non-supe related. And whatever She said was the goddamn truth anyway, because no matter what Butcher claimed, they worked for Her. She got Neuman to give them all their damn cases, was the one who funded a lot of their fucking bullshit, and She dealt with most of the aftermath. Butcher wouldn’t say it because he was a pathetic fucking pussy, and She wouldn’t say it because she was too kind for her own damn good, but everyone else knew.

She was the fucking boss. She called the shots, and looked damn hot doing it. She was the one who killed Homelander—all Butcher had done was shoot a fucking gun, any asscuck with eyes and hands could’ve done that—and the one who built this shit up in a matter of months. She had the ideas for the supe reform programs, and employed all the lawyers who represented the countless victims of Vought and Homelander. Christ, She even got Butcher the damn license to be a private contractor, and convinced that Defense Secretary pussy to hire them the post-Vought efforts. She was the one with a real damn job.

Ben, Butcher, Frenchie, and Kimiko sat around until someone told them there was work to do, and then they damn did it and went home.

She testified before congress. She dealt with all the fucking press idiots, and offered the supes second chances the pussies didn’t deserve, and made sure everyone got their reparations. Ben wasn’t really sure what the fuck the actual mission statement of Her whole thing was—She’d explained it, tits pressed together as she crossed her arms, and he hadn’t remembered all her big, fancy fucking words—but he knew she was doing something good. She ran a real company, not a group of four fucking assholes.

“It’s not a company, Benjamin.” She’d told him, straddling his torso and pouting down at him as his hands kneaded her skin. “It’s a non-profit.”

“What’s the damn difference,” he’d grumbled, and she’d sighed, tapping her fingers on his chest.

“Well, if it’s a company I don’t get any government funding. And as a non-profit we get exempt from certain taxes, and it lends us a certain credibility, which is important because a lot of people aren’t going to trust us. Which I understand, this is a mess, but we also can’t give the media or public anything that might lend to confirmation bias-“

Ben had pulled Her down as she started to spiral into a fucking overdrive, and kissed her until she relaxed in his arms.

Don’t fucking hurt yourself, Sunshine. He’d muttered. You had me with ‘well’.

That was- She’d let out a small gasp as Ben nipped on her upper lip, her voice breathy in their heads. I hadn’t even started talking-

I know. He’d smirked against Her, rolling them over so he could look down at Her beautiful face, how it was open and easy and all his to keep joyful. You have me all the damn time, darling.

Good. She’d smiled up at him, Ben might have drowned in how fucking perfect she was. Because you have me as well.

He didn’t have Her now. Ben had Her everywhere in the world, except in his arms. She was in the flicking, golden light of the office, and the off-key, horrible fucking humming Butcher was doing across the room, and wallpaper of his phone. Both She and Ryan were in pieces all over Ben’s desk as well. Not just in the pictures, but the little paper guide She’d made him to the internet. It told him how shit like URLs and emails and incognito mode worked, and it was in Her handwriting because She loved him enough to help him with this. Ryan had contributed, and drawn a little fucking smile on the corner of one of the pages, and Ben kept it open to that section all the damn time.

Ryan was mostly in that stupid damn mug that Ben kept on his desk every moment, even when he wasn’t using it.

She was mostly in the ring on Ben’s finger. Matching Her’s, the only thing he ever owned that he gave a shit about. He’d had houses and trophies and diamonds and stupid fucking crystal plates that barely damn worked, but they’d all been replaceable. This ring wasn’t. It was made of all the stupid scrap Frenchie had found in the pawn shop, and fireproof because his beautiful, perfect wife was a fucking menace.

And She wasn’t fucking replaceable. The ring proved that Ben had Her—alive in his body and consuming his every damn thought—and he’d never fucking lose Her. He simply fucking refused to, because he’d never, ever be able to find someone he knew how to love half as much. Christ, he’d never had a goddamn chance, because loving Her might be the only thing Ben had ever been a natural at. He’d learned how to do it without effort, like it was something he was born for, and he’d never want to do anything else again. He was the only pussy in the world who was worthy of it, as well.

Ben was worthy of Her, because he fucking understood that She was priceless and holy. That loving Her was a task, but fuck it was worth it. Every nightmare and hollow, glassy stare when she retreated back into pain—the feeling like torture in Ben’s body, making him feel fucking sick until she smiled again—was well worth it to love Her. Worth how he might not be the only one who got to see all Her damn perfection on the surface—beauty and kindness and smart words that came with a smarter fucking brain—but it was Ben alone who got to see everything. The whole picture of this insane, infuriating, perfect woman.

And fuck, She was a masterpiece. And She was all fucking Ben’s. All his to tend to and hold, all his to throw around and fight besides, all his to grin at and care for and really fucking love. All Ben’s to give the whole damn world, and then reduce it all to a moan of his name when he fucked Her. When he buried his head in Her pretty pussy that tasted like a heady, slightly bitter, powerful fucking drug and rubbed Her clit until she squirted all over his fucking face. All Ben’s to trace with worshipping, firm hands, all Ben’s to get fucking high on.

Because sometimes he’d have his hand braced near Her head as he fucked her, and she’d be a needy fucking mess under him, and he’d trace fingers over Her lips and cheekbones before brushing the hair from Her face.

And his ring would catch the light through their blind shades.

And Ben would lose his fucking mind.

He’d hit a pace that was inhuman, and kiss Her everywhere he could fucking reach. Breathing would feel pointless, because he had his wife under him, screaming his name and being the only thing in the whole world that mattered. All of Ben’s existence would narrow to his mouth on her own, or kissing at Her breasts, or sucking on her clit. His hands would be for squeezing and pulling Her skin, or tracing and teasing over her perfect body, or thrusting fingers in and out of Her pussy. Shoving them deep enough his ring would come out covered in her arousal, crooking them until she was pleading and whining under him, and tasting Her when he pulled them out, leaving Her ruined and whimpering on the edge.

And he’d split Her open on his cock, make Her say his name like a prayer, and fuck Her until she squirted all over his cock and he could pump her full of his cum-

Stop distracting me, Benjamin.

I didn’t fucking do anything. He drawled Her name between their heads, smirking into the air. You’re the one who’s distracting me, brat.

Shut up, you’re probably at your desk watching baseball. And you know what you fucking did.

Ben rolled his eyes, turning off his monitor, and with it the MBA game. I don’t have a damn clue what you’re talking about, Sunshine, you spoke first-

Because you started getting horny and loud in my brain, and I’m at work. I can’t start masturbating while I talk to MM and Hughie, they’ll never look me in the eyes again.

Tell them to fucking leave.

I’m not kicking them out of our meeting so we can have mind sex.

You’ve kicked them out so we can have real sex-

Ben could almost see the wrinkle of Her nose. That’s not the same, you looked like you were going to kill them if they didn’t leave-

I hadn’t seen you in a fucking week-

Three days, don’t be dramatic-

And, Ben ignored Her, pushing on. Those pussies chose to leave, it’s not like I fucking threatened them-

They could see your boner, my love. Her voice was bored and amused in his head, and Ben wanted to fucking eat the sound and turn it into a moan. And you almost broke down my door demanding we go on a date, and I quote, ‘right fucking now’-

We should go on a date-

Ben-

Tonight, darling, keep your damn head on. You can stash Ryan at Butcher’s, the asshole looks fucking lonely anyway-

Don’t call it stashing, Ben-

Fine, drop him there after you pick him up-

I was actually, um, I was going to- She paused, and Ben could almost hear her nervous swallow. I wanted to ask, and you can say no, but I-

Words, darling-

Could you pick up Ryan today? I have to go do something.

Ben frowned into the air. Something.

Her voice hummed in his head. Yeah.

Are you going to fucking tell me-

No. It’s a surprise.

It’s a fucking secret-

Ben. Her voice was soft and gentle in his head, and that alone made his frown drop to what She called a pout.

What.

If it was a secret, I would’ve told you I’m working late, or going out with Annie and Kimiko, or something else stupid. But it’s not a secret, I just can’t tell you right now.

She was right. She was always fucking right, and Ben had an idea what this was, but he still missed Her. Wanted to touch her and walk with her and make Her bury her face in his arm when he teased her. You’re going to fucking tell me.

I promise that, by the end of the month, I will have told you. And we can do that date on Christmas eve. Whatever you want.

You don’t have to damn bribe me-

I know. She sighed in the silence, and something in Ben ached as Her own guilt clouded over his eyes. But I want to go on a date with you. And I really want to tell you what I’m doing-

You’re getting a gift. Ben said between their heads, and there was a brief silence before She responded.

Shut up.

Ben drawled Her name, grinning at the air. You’re going to get your gift for the stupid fucking Santa thing-

No, I need to go to the mall for that. Actually, She paused, and Ben felt a smile tug at his lips as he pictured Her pretty face starting into the air, her fingers tapping her desk or leg. Could you take Ryan to the mall? Help him get his gifts? And maybe new pants, I think he grew again-

You have to go with us to get the tree.

If Her nose hadn’t been wrinkling before, it sure as fuck was now. I thought I didn’t have to bribe you, Pretty Boy-

It’s not a fucking bribe, Sunshine, it’s a deal. You go do your secret shit-

My surprise shit-

And I’ll get Ryan and do the fucking shopping. But we’re doing that date, and you’re coming with us for the tree.

Okay. Deal. Ben?

He grunted Her name between their heads, and something warm spread over his whole body at the sound of Her sweet, sharp, infinitely adoring voice.

I love you. She whispered. Thank you-

Don’t. Ben muttered. I love you too. But if you’re not home by midnight I’m finding you and carrying you back.

Her giggle was soft in the silence of the office, and Ben didn’t bother to fight the wide grin on his face. Promise?

Brat.

Cunt.

She faded back into a quiet, perfect presence over Ben’s skull, and now he actually had to damn work. But then he’d get to pick Ryan up—Ben didn’t fucking know how shopping worked without Her there, and he didn’t think Ryan would either, but they’d figure it out—and kiss Her dumb when she got back from whatever the hell she was doing.

She’d tell him. Ben didn’t have a single fucking doubt She’d tell him, because they didn’t keep secrets from each other. Ben could feel Her all the fucking time, and knew exactly where she was across the city, and he didn’t have a single damn desire to keep anything from Her at all. He didn’t see the point in it. That’s what fucking marriage was for, Ben giving his everything to Her, while She gave every part of her right back.

It’s why he was so fucking ready for the holidays. Ben hadn’t had a real Christmas since he was fucking six or seven. They’d either been spent at boarding schools or in military camps through his youth, or at drug-fueled parties through his career. Or just fucking alone. When everyone had people to go to that they cared about more, and Ben didn’t have a single fucking person who saw him as their person.

He’d told Her that, and something soft and pained had flashed over her beautiful face as she held his face between his hands. He’d expected an age joke—So in a hundred fucking years, Pretty Boy?—but all he’d gotten was a gentle, slow kiss and loving words.

You’re my person, Benjamin. She’d mumbled against his lips. And as long as you’re stuck with that, we can do whatever you want for Christmas.

I’m not fucking stuck with it, he’d grumbled, hauling Her up his chest. I love you, Sunshine, you’re not getting rid of me until I fucking die.

She’d hummed, smiling at him. So in like a year, old man?

Ben had rolled his eyes—there She was—and kissed Her until she was squirming above him, then fucked up into her as she screamed his name.

And he didn’t really fucking want much else. There were to many damn traditions for this shit. Activities he didn’t understand, and mistletoe he didn’t fucking care about—he didn’t need a damn plant to tell him when to kiss his wife—and cards that were fucking pointless because they had six friends who they saw every damn day.

He wanted to do some of it though. Ben wanted to eat all the food, and watch whatever movie She told him to—he didn’t understand how a movie about the Grinch could be the best Christmas movie ever fucking made, Benjamin, but he’d watch most anything if She sat with him —and he really wanted to do the tree. To get a big one that made the whole house smell good, and he could cover it in stupid lights.

It should be rainbow lights. She’d fucking love rainbow lights, so Ben should get rainbow lights.

Ben should get them a lot of fucking things. He should get Ryan whatever the hell the kid needed to be a kid, and Ben hadn’t been a kid since the fucking 20s, so he’d have to ask Her and see what that shit looked like now. Probably sports gear, and a real phone that wasn’t a damn brick, and a trip to some museums because Ryan was like Her, and they both liked smart shit, and museums were full of smart shit.

She should get a trip to a museum as well, just Her and Ben. She should get twenty more houses, and a massive library that was just for Her to be a genius in, and as many breaks and vacations as Ben could drag her on. Back to their villa in Rome every summer, and up to Boston to visit Her sister, and every other beautiful place in the world.

She should get the fucking world. Ben should be able to drag the sun down from the sky for Her to hold, and break of a piece of the moon for Her to touch.

But this—a normal, easy holiday where Ben could buy find Her something as perfect as she was for a gift—was going to be damn good place to start.

End Note: It was bold of any of them to think Ben would be able to keep any sort of secret from Her.

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@deansbbyx

[suzukiblu]

Day fifteen of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” behind the cut. tw: mentions of past grooming/abuse; mentions of homophobia. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Naw, naw, it was his name-name,” he says with another laugh. “Dude swore up and down it was Greek. And then I’m pretty sure he specifically went out of his way to find a ‘Leander’ to date just so he could validate that shit, because he absolutely did in fact date a super-ripped alien named Leander.” 

Tim pauses again, and isn’t sure if . . . 

Just something about the tone Kon was using and the look in the back of his eyes is sticking in his head a little, maybe. And he does in fact want to know if this guy at least is a valid source of intel in regards to anyone he might need to put on his supervillain hit list, so . . . 

“But he was cool?” he asks carefully. 

“Um–yeah,” Kon says, tearing up the last bite of his sandwich stack a little restlessly and watching himself do it more than making eye contact. Tim represses a frown. “Just, um–I wasn’t into him or anything, for the record, just he was, like . . . I kinda didn’t really know anybody else who was, like–who liked guys or whatever, before him. I mean, like–other guys who liked guys, I mean. And I didn’t know why I felt–like, how I felt about that. And then, like, not everybody was actually cool with him liking guys, and it was just kinda like . . .” 

He shrugs a little, then glances back at him. Tim stomps on so many invasive questions, and wonders again if Tim Drake is, like–an experiment, or if Kon has dated other guys before. Or at least liked other guys, anyway. He already said he hadn’t really done anything with any, and he said he wasn’t into this guy, but . . . 

“I didn’t even ever tell him I was, you know–like–” Kon shrugs again, then takes another grilled cheese off the stack and starts ripping bites off it too. “Like, whatever I am. Did not actually know that I was that at the time, admittedly, but then Tuftan put a collar on me and not remotely unclearly kept me as his pet and I had some memory problems goin’ at the time, and anyway I woke up to some real interesting, uh, realizations or whatever after that one.” 

“. . . I’m sorry, I know this is a serious conversation and you’re telling me something important, but did you just tell me that your gay awakening was a tiger-king who was keeping you as a pet?” Tim asks, trying not to laugh because, like, clearly Kon is being serious, but oh god, what are their actual lives? What is Kon’s actual life? 

“I mean, technically he was still the prince then,” Kon mutters under his breath, flushing in embarrassment with a sheepish laugh and half-hiding his face with the hand not currently full of incredibly-cheap-but-still-calorie-packed grilled cheese. “Listen, he was just real nice to me while I was all fucked-up and freaked-out about a whole lot of shit, okay, and I swear to god, babe, if you make one single furry joke I will actually go throw myself in a volcano and die, so please have mercy?” 

“I am the most merciful guy you know,” Tim lies, and feels a weird sort of–just a weird feeling, kind of, because Kon would never ask Robin something like that. He’d just get irritated or pissed off or defensive. He wouldn’t just–ask, and think there was any chance he’d actually agree not to do something like that. “Won’t hear a word about it out of me.” 

Though he’s not gonna pretend that the fact that Kon apparently had a crush on a guy who was effectively taking care of everything he needed in life isn’t a good sign for his cul-de-sac plans. 

Maybe Kon’s just more into castles. Tim could get him a castle. Get one built or just import one, he doesn’t know. 

“Uh–thanks,” Kon says, still looking sheepish even as he smiles at him again. “Look, literally not even my fault, alright, if you’d met the dude you’d know. He is literally the tiger from Zootopia who would treat you right, okay? Like, I watched that movie and was like ‘huh okay this is a mortifyingly familiar experience’ the friggin’ moment that scene came on.” 

Tim briefly remembers a couple of tiger-themed memes that he remembers seeing around the time that movie dropped, then decides not to go down that rabbit hole or learn anything new about himself today. Like–not anything else new, anyway.

He has maybe learned a few too many new things about himself lately, admittedly. 

Or, uh . . . definitely, yeah. 

[tubbytarchia]

I feel it’s unjustified and extremely harsh for you to say that Wild Life has “the least tension or meaningful viewer retention or investment in the characters” and “did bare explorations of interesting themes” only because your faves didn’t get to have a narratively satisfying ending or moments. It’s valid to be disappointed about what happened to them/their arc and I get it since I’ve felt that way too about my fave in some of the seasons, but I never blame it on the season’s gimmick or the CCs because I know nothing is scripted and things happen spontaneously. I can’t expect things to go the way it could go or be stuck on it because it’d be unrealistic of me to assume that everyone’s characters will get a spotlight or character development or have their plans for the season fulfilled. While you’re 100% allowed to feel upset and even to list Wild Life as your least favourite, it’s unwarranted to say this season had barely anything to give when it had a fun gimmick, awesome wildcards, new alliances, funny moments and skirmishes, and arguably is the most narratively satisfying season for the winner to win at. I love that you acknowledged this season wasn’t for you, but making blanket statements like those is unnecessarily cruel to the work the CCs have put into their videos.

I didn't blame anything on the CCs either, and all I stated was my opinion. I go out of my way to disclaim that I'm expressing opinion because of responses like this and still I get faulted for "blanket statements" when I don't end every sentence with "in my opinion"

I didn't watch all the POVs but none of them had me invested through to the end personally, not just my favorites. There were a lot of funny moments, it had that in entertainment value, but what I seek from Life Series is the drama and tension first and comedy second, which I acknowledged that this series just may not be trying to cater to anymore, therefore it isn't catering to me, but I can still be sad about it

Of course I'm interested in the characters by default, especially Pearl after seeing her alliance, I really wanted to see where it would go. In the end much of nothing went anywhere for anyone. BigB had a really strong start and kind of fizzled out through no fault of his own, the BAMers were a very cute dynamic and interesting for their kill count alone but then all went kind of unceremoniously and didn't leave me with a lot of emotional attachment, and I feel similarly about Gem and Joel. Scar especially suffered struggling to achieve what he had set out to do since episode 2. The Gs had some very good moments for me to chew on regarding Pearl's and Cleo's dynamic and such but that was a small saving grace. Gem and Pearl didn't get past stage 1 of their dynamic. The idea of untrustworthiness was posed with BigB and Etho pretty strongly regarding the Gs and then they just kinda stopped caring. Team BET were kind of doing their own thing and that worked really well, narratively those guys ended up having me the most intrigued and they were among the least interest for me at the start. So many alliances were proposed in passing eg Ren with Jimmy, BigB and anyone, and then nothing narratively compelling came of them if anything at all

Again, I don't blame the CCs whatsoever for any of my failed enjoyment, but the gimmicks took center stage and interferred with the tension and drama instead of encouraging it like Secret Life, which I think did what it did really well in spite of already being very gimmicky, and I feel confident in placing my problem with the series there. This time around there was just no room to breathe for at least half the episodes, the finale especially when no one was doing much of anything other than walking around deducing the gimmicks and dying to them instead of to each other until they were quite literally forced to. And that hampered the aspect that I enjoy the most and have gotten out of every season before it, hence why my disappointment is so potent. And at least one of the CCs seems to feel similarly about the unsatisfying resolutions and failed developments

Yes the new alliances were cool, yes the player that won deserved the win, etc etc, all fine in a vacuum but I didn't see much chance for them to prosper and wish these alliances and this win were part of a different season. It's my opinion and if you disagree then that's absolutely ok, and I welcome your own opinions but please stop faulting me for it. I wish I could have enjoyed it but I don't get to just change my main draw for the series unfortunately

[electriccleric]

The way that Mike talks about El screams idolization to me. Do I think he loves her? Yes. I do think he cares about her. Do I think he’s IN love with her. No. If he actually was in love with her, I feel like he’d talk about traits and qualities of hers that he loves that are beyond just her powers. Like how Jonathan and Nancy explained why they love each other. They were actual meaningful traits and qualities. I don’t know what Mike loves about El beyond her powers.

This is literally the first thing that comes out of his mouth regarding El last season. Like, yes, that’s an amazing thing that she did, Mike. Can you also mention something else, though? What else do you like about her? What else do you admire about her?

It’s clear that Mike struggles with low self esteem and doesn’t view himself in a positive light. He doesn’t see his own self worth. To Mike, he’s unimportant. He’s a nobody. He’s nothing except a nerd, a loser, a freak who’s been bullied his entire life. He has El on this extremely high pedestal and feels like he can’t measure up to how incredible and amazing she is, because she’s a superhero. That’s what he continues to focus on. It’s not El’s fault that he feels this way either. She’s never talked about how amazing she is because she has powers. She’s never made it seem like she’s above anyone or better than anyone due to her powers. If anything, she’s talked about how she feels like a monster because she’s different. She feels like she doesn’t belong anywhere. She even voices that to Mike.

El cries to Mike, doubting that he loves her anymore because he never says it. He can’t even write it. And what does Mike tell her in response to that? Does he tell her that he loves her? It’d be the perfect time to say it if he does. She’s crying and could use some clarity and reassurance. But no, he doesn’t tell her that he loves her. Instead he tells her this. And of course brings up how she’s a superhero…

Even when he finally voices that he loves her, it falls flat to me and feels off. As the audience, we know that Mike’s initial reaction to finding El in the woods was not love at first sight. He wanted to get her back to wherever she came from and continue to search for Will. So yeah, that’s not true. Maybe he forgot what he was genuinely feeling in that moment? It’s either that or he’s knowingly lying to her. And then when he explains why he loves her… when we finally get to hear the reasons why…

BAM! Again… it all circles back to her being a superhero. He loves her for exactly who she is… a superhero who can fly and move mountains and… yeah… the momentum died when Mike brought up that. El’s reaction to that didn’t look positive either. I just felt so awkward and uncomfortable and confused watching this monologue. Seeing Will’s reaction and having him in frame didn’t help at all. Let’s not forget he basically had to push Mike to not stop and continue talking to El by reminding him that he was the heart. Why’d they choose to do that? All it did was make my heart break even more for Will. Especially after watching him give Mike the meaningful painting he made for him and the beautiful monologue where he disguised his feelings as El’s.

If they wanted me to root for M*leven, they could’ve easily had El say this to Mike. El loves Mike, right? She says that she loves him. I don’t exactly know why though. She’s never voiced why to Mike or to anyone else. I can’t solely blame Mike as the reason why I don’t ship M*leven when I don’t know why El is in love with Mike either. This could’ve been why, but no, the writers chose to not only make Will in love with Mike, but that he feels better for being different and loving him. All his life he was made to believe that he was a mistake for being different, but Mike makes him feel the complete opposite. He also mentions how El (he) is always going to need him. He says this to Mike, someone who wants and needs to be needed. You know what Will said meant the absolute world to Mike. It was exactly the kind of thing he needed to hear. How the hell do you top this?? Why would they choose to do this? Why make Will in love with Mike? Why make him have this type of love for Mike? The type of love Mike needs and wants? Why not have El feel this way about Mike and say this to him instead of Will? Throughout season 4 Mike and El just seemed to make each other feel bad and insecure pretty much the entire time. Not on purpose or knowingly, though. I don’t believe that they want or mean to make each other feel that way. They’re just not good for each other relationship wise. At least not from what I’ve seen so far. I have no idea how they’re gonna turn it around in the final season. Also, they’re just gonna throw away Will’s love for Mike? They used Will’s love for Mike to fix M*leven’s relationship then? And Will gets what? Nothing? No love for the gay character who’s unconditionally in love with his best friend? He should just be happy that his friends and family accept him for who he is? Because we know they will. That’s not going to be shocking. What would be shocking is if they didn’t. I don’t think that’s the type of twist the writers would want to do. That’d be beyond horrible. So yes, Will should just be happy and thankful that his family and friends don’t hate him for being gay. He doesn’t need love like everyone else. We don’t need to see the only gay character experience love and a relationship. Or maybe we will with some random, last second, half assed love interest. Oooo yay! 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

[its-not-that-weird-blog]

Why don’t you tell me

Mick Schumacher x Best Friend!Reader

Summary: Mick and Y/N have been best friends since Mick started racing with Prema, they tell each other everything...but Y/N knows Mick is hiding something.

Warning: Just pure fluff

Disclaimer:  Hello! This is my first one shot ever so...sorry if it's not good and well, English is not my first language so excuse any grammar mistakes :)

Y/N has known Mick since he started racing with Prema.

She has been with him for everything, from his Formula 3 championship win to him losing his seat at Haas, Y/N has never left him or even been embarrassed of Mick.

People grew to love the pair, even started rumors about them dating each other, but all those rumors got shut down almost immediately by both of them.

Mick, like the hopeless romantic he is, fell in love with Y/N. He doesn’t know when he did exactly, but he fell...and he fell hard.

He admired the way that Y/N would go, whenever she could, to the races, to support him during everything. How she didn’t use him for the fame that his last name brings, how genuine she is. Mick likes everything about her, and because he didn’t want to ruin anything with Y/N, he decided to hide those feelings.

On the other hand, Y/N has been head over heels for Mick since they met. She liked how focused he was whenever he would race, it didn’t matter where he would finish in a race, he poured his heart and soul into it, and that made Y/N love him even more. 

Even more, she loved how much Mick cares about his family, he literally would move mountains for them if it were necessary. Y/N decided to do the same as Mick, and hide those unsaid feelings she has, because she cherishes their friendship so much that it would hurt if something bad happened between them.

••••••••••••••• ••••••••••••••• 

During the winter break Y/N has been nothing but supportive of Mick. With him losing his seat at Haas, and ending his formula 1 career for now, it really took a toll on him.

When Mick started thinking about what he was going to do regarding his F1 career, he went into a spiral of his own thoughts, some of which were negative. He thought that he could never live up to the expectations of others, or even live up to his last name.

“Hey! Mick? Are you listening?” Y/N said with a very soft voice, to try to get Mick out of that twist of thoughts in his mind, while both of them were peacefully laying on Y/N’s bed.

“Yeah, um...what were you saying?” He answered looking at her eyes, those beautiful eyes he fell in love with during all these years.

“Why don’t you tell what is going on inside that pretty little head of yours?” She observed while brushing her hand through his delicate blond hair.

“Nothing...nothing, just thinking about everything that happened in Abu Dhabi” He sighed and curled up to Y/N’s touch. “What if I can’t be like my dad? Haas wasn’t the only one that dropped me, so did Ferrari” Mick finished with a clear frustration and quiver to his voice.

“Mick, you are nothing but an amazing boy, the way haas handled things wasn’t your fault” Y/N hugged Mick and kissed his forehead, “I promise that you will sort things out, everything happens for a reason Mickey” She softly said.

And when Mick thought that he couldn’t fall more for Y/N, she proved him wrong, he was more than positive that his feelings will never go away, he just has to man up and confess to her.

Y/N felt Mick hug back and they just stayed that way for the rest of the morning.

Y/N wanted to tell Mick about her own feelings, but she just couldn’t do it, not after 5 years of friendship, ‘What if I ruin everything between us?’ she asked herself that everyday.

••••••••••••••• •••••••••••••••

“Y/N!!” Mick entered the apartment he knew as if it was his own.

“In the kitchen” Y/N called out.

Mick went running to the kitchen, he had the best news ever to tell his best friend, “Hey” he went to hug Y/N, “Guess what” Mick said with excitement.

“Hhmm...I don’t know, tell me why are you acting like a kid in disney” Y/N answered giggling

“Well, you are talking with the new Mercedes AMG Petronas F1 team reserve driver” He finishes with a content and proud smile.

“Oh my god!” Y/N threw herself at Mick, catching him in a tight hug, “Mickey, I am so proud of you! I told you, this is a great opportunity for you” She whispered in his ear, more than proud of her best friend.

They stood there, just enjoying each other’s warm embrace. Mick took a deep breath and pushed Y/N a little to see her face.

He admired her for a little, just like Y/N was admiring Mick and those ocean blue eyes. Mick started to lean in and caught Y/N’s lips in a short kiss to make sure he wasn’t over stepping anything. Once he saw Y/N chasing for his lips, he knew it was okay.

They crashed their lips together in a sweet and passionate kiss. Y/N had one of her hands running through Mick’s hair and the other in the back of his neck. Mick had one of his hands delicately holding Y/N’s face and the other in her waist, pulling her as close as he could.

Once they started running out of air, both started to pull away, just enough to disconnect their lips but to remain as close as possible. 

Mick kissed Y/N’s temples and hugged her, leaning his forehead against hers.

“I am in love with you, Y/N” Mick whispered as if he was telling Y/N the most sacred secret on earth.

“I am in love with you too, Mick” She looked into his eyes and fell in love with him all over again.

••••••••••••••• •••••••••••••••

Hope you enjoyed it!!

[grandpasauce]

In the game informer video they said solas has been doing his ritual to bring down the veil for far longer than anyone in-universe knows. Which like, implies solas has spent some amount of his last 5000(ish) years in uthenera getting the process started, and that’s why the veil has been gradually weakening as each game progresses.

Which, by extension, implies some very angsty things regarding solas’ guilt and regret. Because he has spent 5000 stewing in his guilt about destroying the elvhen. Perhaps he feels the death occurring post veil is unfortunate, but hey, they’re not REALLY people, so I don’t have to feel THAT bad.

But then he wakes up, joins the inquisition, forms bonds with multiple of these modern mortal people, and realizes… now not only does he still have the weight of the spirits and/or elvhen on his shoulders, he also bears the weight of every mortal’s death ever since the veil went up. They’re not soulless shells, they’re real people with families and loves and hates etc etc etc

Like he went from feeling like shit about himself for destroying his People, only to wake up and quickly realize Oh No, I didn’t just kill my people, I’m responsible for the deaths of so so so many MORE people than I already considered.

“You change everything, but you can’t.” Isn’t only solas saying ‘oh no your making me rethink my plans’. It’s him saying ‘you can’t me real because if YOUR real that means they’re all real and that means I’ve killed more people than I ever imagined and idk what to do with even more remorse on my shoulders.”

And like, when solas tells you he literally CANT be with you in Crestwood, he’s not wrong. At this point, the ritual to bring down the veil is potentially 1000s of years in process already, like it’s probably too late to turn back, the veil is so weak at this point because of solas’ ritual that it’s coming down one way or another.

Idk them revealing solas has been working on this ritual for a looonnnnggggg time makes everything so much worse for him because it rly IS all his fault. Not just the veil, but the weakening of it, and allllll the suffering that has stemmed from it, not just spirits and elves like he’d originally thought (which is horrible enough) but also all the mortal lives as well.

Gives so much scrumptious context to solas as a character looking back and immmmmm frothing at the mouth over thisssss

[monstermoviedean]

Omg ur so real for the whole “should jimmy novak be cas’ biggest/greatest regret”. i have a whole laundry list of things he could insert instead but if ur willing id love to know what you think should be up there as things he regrets most lmfao. (totally feel free 2 ignore this no matter what!!! obviously free country free website etc etc but also i promise im not trynna stir the pot im genuinely just curious as well as… drunk And therefore possibly entirely tone deaf... 2 b honest)

4 me it would be the whole purgatory thing and the leviathans getting loose as a result (as well as cas and dean getting stuck in purgatory) like. Lowkey. i don’t blame cas for Bobby dying i truly don’t hold that resentment in my heart but it’s an unavoidable fact that leviathan dick roman would never have killed Bobby if cas didn’t do what he did despite warnings from not just dean sam and bobby but also from Balthazar and the Fate girlie (i forget her specific name lol something with an A) and tbh there may be more characters who warned/cautioned/told him not do it (there also may not be other characters but yk gotta cover my bases)

also cas breaking the wall in Sam’s mind was because of the whole busting open purgatory situation so that’s a 3rd consequence of that decision. andddd also cas’ whole staunch refusal to deal with the consequences of HIS actions (episodes Reading Is Fundamental - where he wakes up in the hospital - until essentially halfway through the finale) by saying he doesn’t fight anymore etc etc just avoiding everything Negative even though all the Negative things he’s avoiding are literally his responsibility (and Crowley’s , to be fair, but Crowley is also the literally king of hell we expect this behavior and disregard for humanity from him so I don’t rlly think it can be held against him. It’s essential to his characterization).

Anyways like I said feel free to ignore this I just saw ur post/tags and it made LOL

oh my gosh THANK YOU! no i'm so happy to talk about this and so happy you sent this.

you hit some big ones for me! and i want to be clear that i don't want to assign feelings to cas. i am not saying "cas should feel bad" or "cas not feeling 'bad enough' indicates he himself is bad." i am saying, if i were cas, there are things i would regret as much or more than the novaks. and while i think some of these are things cas regrets in canon, others are not. i am also totally okay with the "bad writing" excuse to explain why the novaks are stated to be a bigger regret than any of these things, given it's somewhat of a throwaway line in a buckleming episode.

anyway, in no particular order:

breaking sam's wall. 100%. here is an excellent recent post from @scoobydoodean regarding how that decision was cruel, and intentionally so. you could say that cas "redeemed himself" by taking on sam's hell trauma, but 1) that's not the same as regret and 2) that doesn't undo the suffering sam (and dean and bobby to a lesser extent) endured as a result of cas' decision.

the leviathans getting out. that's a lot of carnage and i don't think it's unfair to say this is cas' fault. unintended, for sure, but a consequence of his actions. (i don't blame cas for bobby's death either but i get what you're saying)

everything you said about refusing to deal with the consequences of his actions. YES. i don't have additional examples atm but i think there are others.

the fact that by season 13 there are only a dozen or so angels left. that's not 100% on cas. heaven lost angels in seasons 4 and 5, and angels fought for and against cas in the war against raphael in season 6. but he also killed angels for not bending the knee to him. he killed angels like balthazar for questioning him. angels were lost rescuing him from purgatory. angels were lost in the fall, which was sealed with his grace (though not his intent). and more angels fought for him in season 9. he does have some angel blood on his hands (though certainly not all of it!).

i'm still mad about him torturing aaron birch.

also maybe not something he should regret, but i think it would be nice if he apologized to dean for abandoning and running from him in purgatory. i'm also iffy on whether to include lucifer - cas does bear a lot of responsibility for everything that happens with lucifer after cas says yes to him, but i also know that cas suffers greatly because of that decision. i am not suggesting cas needs to "do penance" but i think cas thinks he does, and being possessed by lucifer would feel like penance enough for letting him out.

[beauty-and-passion]

TMA - Chapters 91-100: Criminals, weirdos and one (1) wet cat

I said we were back and here we are, back again with ten more episodes.

This season started with a bang and I can’t wait to learn more, so let’s not waste too much time and jump right into it.

<< Main Masterlist <- Previous post

_______________________________

MAG 91 - The Coming Storm

It’s Michael time! I mean, Michael Crew time! And he wants to talk about stuff! But only after dissing Jon too, because dissing Jon is apparently a hobby among these supernatural shits.

So I was right regarding Michael’s past: he’s the child struck by lightning and that event helped him “connect” to The Vast. And I love how he talked about it. Actually, I really like all the times humans talk about their connection with the supernatural entities: there’s always a mix of longing and reverence in their stories, they are always searching for that connection and, when they get it, they experience freedom and a deep sense of liberation. Michael literally searched among all the cursed Leitners to find the right one and get the exact kind of liberation he wanted.

And while doing it, he offers us more names! The Filth (which I don’t remember if I already saw before - and if I did, please help me remember), and the one he calls his “tormentor”: an “arcing branch of the Twisting Deceit”. What a fucking cool name <3

I also really like how Michael talks about this entity as a tormentor or a figure “chasing him”. It’s as if, after “marking” Michael with that scar, the entity kept searching him for years - and Michael chased the entity too, trying to find a way to bind it to the book.

Actually, that’s the part I don’t really understand. Why did Michael “bound his tormentor to the book”? What does that mean? Didn’t he bind “the tormentor” to himself? Jude told us that, if you kill yourself, you get closer to your god - and that’s what Michael did, right? But the book played a role too? Maybe I’m missing something.

So: Daisy woke up, went to the bar and ordered a coffee with a spoon of extra violence and a side dish of hitting Jon, because this season is apparently the “let’s beat Jon up” season. Thank god Basira was there to save his ass again, otherwise he would be a mush on the floor by now.

Shit, Daisy, calm your tits: it’s not Jon’s fault, and I’m not saying it because I’m biased. Can’t you see this man? He radiates the strongest wet cat energy ever, he's not the criminal mastermind here.

Elias, on the other hand…

Wait, what? What do you mean by “grab a spade”? Did you kill Michael, Daisy? My man Michael Crew just died?! What the fuck, Daisy, you can’t just kill characters like that! What about The Vast, now? Also, are we sure he really died? You know, there’s always a chance these little fuckers pop back alive and well.

_______________________________

MAG 92 - Nothing Beside Remains

HOLY SHIT THAT WAS INSANE

*

Growing up means loving Elias

This MAG taught me something very important: that growing up means accepting and understanding what someone does right and even more what they do wrong. And this is why Elias is my favorite character now.

Look at him. Just look at this smug bastard. First, he calls the police because he knows Daisy is coming - and of course he knows, since he’s The Eye or its high priest or whatever. And once he gets his ass covered, he makes a statement (because it’s always feeding time for Mr. Eye), and casually comments it, by talking to Jon.

And here we can see Elias casually telling us that Jonah Magnus was also an Archivist or a servant of The Eye at least. Good to know that supernatural shit kept lurking around for centuries.

Look at this little shit. He’s The Eye (more or less) and he’s so satisfied because, for the first time, he experienced the influence of his own power on himself.

And you know what? I get the appeal. If I were a supernatural know-it-all who can compel others to talk, I would be curious to try that power on myself as well. Also, it works for the kind of supernatural god it is: since The Eye is characterized by endless love and search for knowledge, wanting to know how its own power feels sounds right up its alley.

Not only Elias is a smug bastard, but he’s relatable now. I am in love.

So:

Elias casually reconfirms he’s The Eye, since he’s the heart of the Institute and the institute is inextricably tied with The Eye.

That basically explains why Tim cannot leave. Since he became part of this “organism”, trying to leave would be like cutting an arm off: the organism survives, but the cut arm cannot. It dies. And that’s why Tim had to come back. I LOVE that there’s such a great explanation.

Elias fucked up everyone, all while hiring more people to work for him.

Elias fucked Daisy too and saved his ass exactly as he planned.

Elias is an insane bastard and I love him.

"Our master” what? You are The Eye, you little shit. Or maybe, since you’re, like, its embodiment on this planet, you are not exactly The Eye but like… a representation of it?

*

Melanie is my spirit animal

Melanie’s comments throughout the whole MAG have been peak. I loved everything, from her casually commenting “Uh… good?” after Jon told everyone Elias is going to confess his crimes, to her “Bloody hell!”, to her constant sense of confusion about everything.

I love her. So. Much. She just wanted a job and first she got weirdos as colleagues, then her boss admits he killed some people, then she finds out she’s stuck in that weird place because of some supernatural shit, then a police lady draws out a gun and all Melanie wanted was to just have a normal day and come back home all in one piece.

*

The Unknowing!

And now Elias gives us some answers! Okay, now I completely forgive him for killing Leitner. It was a dick move but hey, everyone has flaws and Elias is a clever, smug bastard, so he gets extra points and a free pass on a couple of killings.

So, the Unknowing is a ritual and it’s a way for The Stranger to change reality enough to make it closer to the place where it is.

You know what? That’s FUCKING COOL and I wish to see it. It would be insane and maybe destroy life in the universe, but it sounds so incredible!

Also, it kinda answers one of my previous thoughts, when I wondered about how those entities feel regarding our universe. Well, apparently one of them (aka The Stranger) likes it enough to try and make it its own. Now I wonder if we’ll get to know what other entities think about our world too.

*

Elias is everything

Oooh, so the war is between known and unknown. Well, that explains the two sides of the battle a little more: I get why one side is made of beings like The Dark, The Vast (aka part of the Twisted Deceit), The Distortion, the creepy dolls and so on. They’re all beings that thrive and are associated with the hidden and the unknown.

And now I get it why The Eye is on another side. But still don’t know who is could be on its side among the ones we know: maybe the Spider Gang? And what about the Lukas family? Do they stick around because of the connection between their ancestors and Jonah Magnus?

I am so excited, there are a ton of things I still need to know.

How could I even hate this man? He confessed he killed two people and yet, he got everything he wanted, he got new people attached to the Institute, he got his ass covered, he got his Archivist back and made him work on saving the world from the Unknowing. All of this in the span of 30 minutes more or less. What an icon.

And in the end, he casually tells Jon that hey, there’s no problem with form and notes, he will get everything covered in no time ;)

Also, “I have work to be getting on with”: oh, Elias, we all know it’s not true because you don’t work. You sit on your lazy ass all the time <3

I apologize for all the bad things I said about him in the past: I was young and naive and still didn’t know Elias is a little bitch. Now my eyes have been opened and all I can say is that I stan him and his insanity <3

_______________________________

MAG 93 - Contaminant

So, the statement can be resumed as “Mouldy Entity took over Greg Russell” and I have no idea what the Mouldy Entity is - even though it reminds me of The Filth mentioned by Michael Crew, so… maybe they’re parts of the same?

What’s truly important here is the umpteenth mention of Breekon & Hope, our favorite delivery boys. And apparently, Jon is asking the same questions I am asking myself: are they part of The Stranger or a third, neutral party that just loves going around and moving stuff? Are they the Uber drivers of the supernatural entities?

But what really matters here is the conversation with Georgie, which can be resumed as follows:

Elias, by being the wonderful bitch he is, took the first people he found and gave them random roles they were not qualified for, just because they had the perfect psychological profile for his deeds.

Jon proved he knows nothing about his job and its requirements. But don’t worry, apparently no one does. The Magnus Archives are run by a bunch of desperates who have no idea what they’re doing and I love it.

Jon’s resume of the situation is: there are weird gods outside our universe and they push through in the form of monsters. And they choose people as avatars, who gain super abilities, but lose their own self. Yep, pretty accurate.

These gods are considered patrons by their avatars/servants. Again, pretty accurate, considering they are seen and described as entities who help, support, and give freedom to the people they choose.

The Stranger's servants want to perform a ritual meant to remake the world, by bringing it closer to their master. And since Jon has to stop it, he’s literally trying to save the world. Jon is our hero… and it’s because the bad guy gave him this role. Or is Elias a good guy now? Are there even “good” or “bad” guys? I love it when a story plays so much with common roles and concepts like good and bad.

What happened with The End? What did Death/The End ever do? Did it do something bad to Georgie? Please no, she seems such a sweetheart.

_______________________________

MAG 94 - Dead Woman Walking

Clearly the dead woman was an avatar of The End or a smaller servant or whatever. And it’s really interesting how it affected Georgie: the idea that there’s no difference between present and future and everything is destined to end reminds me of the philosophy of presentism, a theory according to which the only existing events/objects are those that exist in the present. And yes, the importance, the weight of realizing how everything is destined to an end truly seems to hint at the importance and power of an entity that is literally called The End.

I also really like how this realization didn’t just affect Georgie in the short term: she got influenced by it, she recovered, but the effects are still here, in the form of an inability to fear anything anymore.

Understandable: once you realize that everything is destined to an end, there is no eternity after, the end is already here and it will always be part of everything... well, it makes said everything much less intimidating.

And yes, Georgie is right when she says she feels as if fear was stolen from her. Because can you really live and experience life, if you don’t feel any fear anymore?

_______________________________

MAG 95 - Absent Without Leave

O-oh, a statement about an Italian guy! And he’s from Teramo, so he’s close to my city too! That’s cool :D

But even if the guy is close to me geographically, we’re separated by an abyss when it’s language time: “Sono andanti marcio” is exactly the kind of terrible, wannabe Italian only a shitty computer translator can produce XD

Mr. Sims, ask me next time: as it is now, this sentence means “They going rot”, which almost makes sense in English, but it makes zero sense in Italian :P A much better translation would be:

“Stanno marcendo” (they are still going rotten)

“Sono marciti” (they are already rotten)

Bad translation aside, this statement reminds me of something else, especially the introductory part, which seems to refer to the song “La guerra di Pietro” by Fabrizio De Andrè. This song is a beautiful poem and, even though it's hard to convey the same depth and beautiful musicality in another language, this translation on Genius.com is quite accurate. I also suggest listening to the original song here on YouTube, just to get an idea of why this is still one of the most beloved songs and why De Andrè is one of the greatest Italian artists (and one of my personal favorites).

Basira is productively spending her time! Is she a prisoner in the institute? No problem, the situation will change in the future, so it's much better to spend time gathering more info and doing something, rather than whining and protesting. Great mentality, I really like her.

_______________________________

MAG 96 - Return to Sender

As soon as I heard the name “Alfred Breekon” I jolted: o-oh, will we listen to a statement from the boss of Breekon & Hope Deliveries? I’m ready for it.

Okay, despite being not particularly important, this statement was still quite interesting: first, we found out Hope isn’t a real person, but another name put on by the original owner of the company. Then, that our two favorite delivery boys were never hired. They just followed this plan:

appear one day

scare the shit out of Mr. Breekon

steal his name and truck

start delivering stuff everywhere

???

Profit, somehow

Cherry on top, this statement has been left for Jon by Elias, whose job is now to anticipate Jon’s next steps. What a bitch, I love him.

Okay, so now Jon and Daisy are a dynamic duo that goes around, beating the shit out of the avatars/servants (and occasionally killing them), to stop The Stranger and the Unknowing? I didn’t know I needed this in my life but it turns out I need this a lot. Please, more of Daisy radiating killing energy and Jon radiating wet cat energy together.

One last thing, as a personal reminder: one of the ingredients of this ritual is the oldest piece of taxidermy in the world, aka gorilla skin from Carthage. I hope to get all of these ingredients, I’m curious to see if I can deduce what happens during the Unknowing just by knowing them.

_______________________________

MAG 97 - We All Ignore the Pit

I like that this statement’s title is an advice. The people who survived the most in this series are the ones who ignore everything, so yes, I will gladly ignore the pit with… whoever you are.

And so did Mr. Ellis. And he survived, thus proving my point: ignore the weird shit happening around you and you will come out alive. Unless the weird shit grows interest in you. In that case, you’re fucked.

The statement per se is weird and mysterious. I have no idea about this pit, even though the constant “earthy movements” reminded me of the supernatural meat. Also, who are the old lady and the guy with deep blue eyes? Are they important? Is Gertrude and someone else? No idea, but I’ll try to remember them.

Glad to know I’m not the only clueless one: Jon has no idea about what this statement means too. At least we’re together in this. Now, if only Elias would be so kind to give us more clues, it would be great.

But he’s also having so much fun, throwing bits of info… oh, I can’t stay mad at him, he can do as he pleases <3

OMG Nikola Orsinov paid Jon a visit! And she’s adorable, creepy and adorably creepy! I loved the aghast “No!” when Jon asked her if she wanted to kill him, only to be followed by “I mean, yes”. Ah, good old supernatural shits, always trying to kill Jon. Seriously, this season is the “Jon keeps asking if others want to kill him” season: that’s what he says most of the time!

Soooo… the gorilla skin is basically a ball dress? That’s hilarious. And Nikola wants to wear it when she “dances the world new”. The implications are beautifully terrifying and it keeps reminding me of Azathoth at the center of the universe, surrounded by endless dance and music.

_______________________________

MAG 98 - Lights Out

Oh, some time with the other characters! Tim, it’s been an eternity since I saw you!

AAAnd this is why you're still great. I love Tim.

Sure, he’s 300% done and every time he appears, he’s more done than the last. And yes, he has “DEAD” written all over his face. But since he’s still alive for now, I will enjoy every second of him.

I love the meta of sentences like this, because I know Martin is talking to the recorder and, indirectly, to The Eye. But we can also see it as Martin scolding us, the listeners. We are like The Eye, hungrily listening to every private conversation these people have.

The statement per se is okay: we have another story regarding Maxwell Rayner, the ex avatar of The Dark. And we also get some sort of… physical form of The Dark, I suppose: a long, thin figure with an open mouth from which pours down an endless amount of black sand. Pretty cool, I like it - especially the sand detail and the associated sound. I can almost hear this soft hiss of the falling sand.

And then, just like every other woman in this series, Melanie too decides to wake up and choose violence. However, her violence comes with a side dish of stupid, so she decides to poison Elias. The magical know-it-all.

Bless her clumsy attempt, she's too precious <3 Even Elias knows it and forgives her: Melanie must be protected at all costs.

_______________________________

MAG 99 - Dust to Dust

The statement per se is kinda useless: a weirdly magical sand associated maybe with the Spiral and Gertrude talking about The Hunt, The Buried and Jan Kilbride. No idea what those things are, but whatever.

What’s important is that Jon is sure Gertrude’s assistant is Michael. Okay, but which one? Micheal the Good Boyo or Michael Crew? I suppose Michael the Good Boyo, even though I cannot be sure - I suck at recognizing voices. Anyway, something happened to her assistant and he became an avatar. And Jon is clearly afraid something similar is gonna happen to his assistants too.

That’s very fascinating. Will they become avatars too? Elias is one already and Jon feels he’s becoming one too. But what about the others? Will Martin become an avatar? And Melanie? And Tim? Maybe I had the wrong impression about him and he won’t die, but become an avatar? Or maybe I was right, since you have to die to become an avatar.

This also explains Jon’s fears and why he’s trying so hard to escape from everyone else. Once again, his psychology and actions make sense, thanks to a clear, logic explanation.

And since Jon is a well-written character and he’s a clever guy not an idiot, he realizes what he's doing is wrong, he accepts Georgie’s advice and says he will try to stick with the others and help with “Elias’ new management style”.

The laugh I gave when I read this. The utter laugh. What does “new management style” even mean? Hiring random people was his old management style, so what's the new one? Actually doing something for once, instead of sitting on his ass 24/7? I love Elias, I want him as my boss too.

Holy shit the ending! Breekon and Hope literally kidnapped Jon, to bring him to the creepy puppet lady. And this reconfirms:

This is truly the “let’s beat up Jon” season

Jon is even more of a wet cat than ever

All the supernatural shits want to kill Jon

The puppet lady will come back in all of her creepiness and I can’t wait for it

_______________________________

MAG 100 - I Guess You Had to be There

So that’s “Elias’ new management style”? Making everyone record statements? Well… why not? He hired these bunch of people not because they knew how to do their job - actually, no one knows how to run this place, not even the Head Archivist.

So, being the thoughtful boss he is, Elias decided that:

They should do the only job that matters, which is feeding time for Mr. Eye the archivist’s job

Everyone should do it, because that’s the most chaotically evil thing ever - and it makes me laugh

Everyone is being efficient all day, so Elias can sit on his ass and do nothing as always

The more time passes, the more I stan Elias.

So, let’s see these wonderful people who came to the Archives with their totally real stories:

*

Lynne, aka The MoneyGrabber: she went to the Institute just to get some money. The ghost story is probably just some stupid shit she dreamt and decided that hey, why not try and give it to these people? She can make easy money for that!

The idea could’ve worked, unfortunately the Magnus Archives is not the kind of agency she hoped for and all she got from her story was something like 20 cents for a coffee.

*

Mr. Smith, aka The Conspiracy Theorist: when he said the Government kidnapped his friend, I died on the spot and came back alive, just to laugh more.

I can bet my ass the true story was something like: Mr. Smith & partner tried to steal something, then his friend got rightfully arrested or got lost somewhere because they’re clearly a couple of idiots, so now he thinks it’s the Government’s fault, it’s “they”, it’s the New World Order, it's whatever, what’s important is that they’re hiding something from us, wake up people!

Unfortunately for Mr. Smith, the agency that could’ve helped him wasn’t the Magnus Institute, but a mental hospital.

*

Robin, aka The One Who Wants To Get Killed: Basira got tested and she got severely tested, because if I were her, I would’ve sent this guy away right after he started to ramble the first time.

He clearly has some death wish and his story was an attempt to get killed by Basira. Unfortunately for him, she didn't fall for that - even though the temptation was very strong. So she just sent him away to bore someone else to death.

*

Brian, aka The Fucked Up: but not because The Web & Spider Gang attacked him, oh no. It’s because there’s another goddamn Lukas, who did something weird to him.

And, wait, is he the same Peter Lukas mentioned long ago? Let me check.

*one check later*

Yes, he was mentioned in MAG 33, in the story about the supernatural fog! Wait, is the distorted sound associated with the same fog? Is that what he did with Brian? Did he stick this guy in the supernatural fog or something similar?

Also, I know the Lukas family is creepy, but I like this guy: he introduces himself with such a happy tone, he gives funny vibes. And he’s searching for Elias because I suppose they’re pals, so I hope he will be a funny guy - albeit creepy and scary and associated with some other supernatural shit.

_______________________________

In conclusion

The more statements I read, the more this series becomes funnier.

The characters are amazing. I love every one of them, from Nikola Orsinov in all her creepiness, to this Peter Lukas filled with happy vibes. I want to know more, I want to see The Stranger and the Unknowing - and I want to know about Peter Lukas too. Is it finally time to learn more about this creepy family and the supernatural fog? Will we also learn more about Michael? Will Jon escape? Or will his friends come to save him? Will Elias ever stop being a chaotic bastard?

I hope not for the last one.

-> Next post

(How about a coffee? ☕)

_______________________________

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[rickybaby]

I’m going to say something a little controversial regarding Yuki fans, but please bare with me: I actually do understand the frustration of a lot of them. He’s been very consistent this season and has worked hard for the team for literal years at this point. Yet still, Red Bull have proven time and again that he’s not a priority to them. No matter what happens in 2025, I feel like a lot of his fans know deep down he’s not in contention for that second seat and never was. I get it, I’d be livid too.

BUT this issue is that their anger is misplaced. I feel like they’re transposing RB (and wider F1’s) treatment of Yuki (the barely-concealed racism, infantilization, disrespect etc) onto Daniel. Let’s be clear, NONE of that shit is Danny’s fault. But I get it, I’d be mad too if my driver was doing well and the one time (so far) my teammate out qualifies me and snatches P4, here comes fucking Helmut Marko walking him into the paddock along with all the Netflix cameras and about 12000 articles.

I feel like Danny’s popularity at this point is both a blessing and a curse: he’s similar to Lewis where he’s almost too big to kill. Whether he does well or poorly, he’s going to be written about, he’s going to draw eyes, he’s going to bring money. And in this sport, who you are matters almost as much as what you do. Adding to that, Daniel’s pre-mclaren career has been spectacular enough that it’s basically solidified his place on the grid.

I really feel like the reason for this bizarre, recent “Daniel hate” is because they know he’s one of the very few drivers on the grid that has done enough to earn his place and earn it for good. No one is deciding when Danny’s done but him. And no amount of “he’s washed” “get Lawson in” “Yuki is better” is going to change that. And they hate it (lol). No one is listening to them, especially not on today’s grid when none of the younger cohort (Lando, George, Pierre, Alex, etc) are coming anywhere CLOSE to 8 race wins. We joke that “Monaco 2018 you will always be famous” but the funny thing is… It WILL literally always be famous.

Daniel is one of the few drivers on the grid that didn’t just win races, he made MOMENTS. And that’s something irreplaceable that is severely lacking on the current grid. All this to say, Yuki fans are justified in their frustrations but Daniel fans are also justified sitting in the knowledge that Daniel is a made man who doesn’t need to prove himself to anyone. The team have faith in him, and he brings so much more than a body to drive a car, and anyone who can’t understand that just doesn’t understand F1

Yes to a lot of what you’ve said, but respectfully, Daniel fans on twitter need to stop beefing with Yuki fans. Most of them are young and let them have their online space to say whatever they want. Whatever they say has objectively no impact on Daniel or his future prospects …

[tooningin]

”Angela” (Bjhm) Analysis

Bojack Horseman is commonly regarded as one of the greatest shows ever made, and I completely agree. In fact I think it might be my favorite show ever. The struggles and conflicts the characters face throughout the show feel so raw and real, and it’s near seamlessly balanced with sheer absurdity and some great jokes, I could go on.  

In 2020, Bojack would release its final season, and its final episodes “The View From Halfway Down” and  “Nice While it Lasted” would receive immense praise, especially the former. And again, I side with most of the people in this. But amidst all this came one more episode, that episode being “Angella”. This episode is very underapreciatted, taking one of the biggest bits in the show, that being the beginning of Bojack was we know him throughout the show, and changing everything we knew about and saw it as prior to this point. 

The episode’s main plot involves Angela Diaz calling Bojack over to her house following the 2nd interview. This is already pretty fitting for one of the final episodes. Basically Bojack is facing the very woman who last time he saw her, got Herb fired. Herb is the whole reason Bojack’s career began, and he’s done so much for him, so  getting removed from Horsin Around was a massive blow, and once Bojack didn’t stick up for and also abandoned Herb, represented a turning point in his life, the end of the golden days for him, and the beginning of life as we would see for him throughout the entire series. 

However, for everything he’s done and for everything he’s endured, there was one thing he could take pride in: Horsin Around. But now, with the world fully aware of just how horrible of a person he is, and how he killed 

Sarah Lynn, no one can ever look at him the same way again. And so Angela presents him the contract that would allow ABC to remove him.

This is a huge deal. Horsin Around (mainly it’s early days) represents the one time where Bojack was truly happy. It’s how he met his best friend, and when he had a sense of clarity and confidence about his life. This time means the world to Bojack. Time and time again, we’ve been shown him indulging in Horsin Around as form of escapism into an era of his life that he can actually look back on fondly, and that many others once looked back on the same way

And now he’s being told all that will essentially be erased. Obviously it’s his own fault, but it’s hard not to feel even just a tinge or sympathy for him. 

But then, following some drunk Bojack shenanigans, comes Angela’s confession: the threat of Bojack loosing his career if he stuck up for Herb? Was a lie! Angela deliberately made this threat to save her own ass.

Naturally Bojack is furious. He berates her saying that all the bad stuff he’s done kickstarted because of her. This is a narrative Bojack has built himself over the course of the series, and much like his Horsin Around era, has now been shattered. Angela refutes this, dismissing Bojack’s accusations, and saying that it was all his choice.  

What I love about this is that neither Bojack nor Angela are favored by the narrative here. It was wrong of Angela to hold Bojack’s career over the line and use his insecurities against him like that, but at the same time, it was Bojack’s choice. She didn’t FORCE him to abandon Herb for 20 years and blame his shitty actions on literally everyone but himself. 

Bojack accepts Angela’s offer of another drink, a clever representation of what is arguably his biggest relapse, as just 2 episodes ago, he was just a month away from having been sober for a year. And even earlier he let himself only one drink. In spite of everything, Bojack was insistent on keeping up his sobriety. But that don’t matter anymore to him. He then leaves Angela’s house, steals her limo (and some of the DVDs), and breaks into his old home, 

Once he finds some Vodka, Bojack boots up one of the DVDs, and watches his old screen test. In this screen test, we see a younger Bojack just starting out. And this Bojack was a dreamer. He was a Bojack that had genuine passion for the art of acting, and wanted to share that passion with the world. 

But as the screen test ends, we abruptly, and brutally, cut to Bojack in the present. This is a Bojack broken in every way. Whatever different path he could’ve taken, has been burnt a long time ago. There is nothing left for him.

And with that, he jumps in the pool

[foreverformula1]

F1 hard truth:

Lando Norris’ hardships in basic academics as shown in Grill the Grid isn’t solely the fault for training for F1 and dyslexia but also probably his lack of interest regarding educating himself and/or how he was academically educated growing up.

Because it’s interesting how this argument comes up only when it’s about Norris and sometimes some others too. But all drivers are pretty much average and Verstappen who is known for being the Top 1 at the moment, has a shocking pre F1 victory strike since Karting days (LITERALLY NEVER ARRIVING SECOND!) , countless stories about his hardships with his father coaching him since he was about 3 years old and making F1 all of his life, is often one of the best at these same games.

Fernando Alonso and Sabastian Vettel too.

The truth is that one might not me much intelligent and that’s about it, I completely understand it and struggle with it myself even when I was pushed academically more than my classmates.

But it becomes inexcusable when you don’t know where your country is. Something a 7 year old can do. He, like the others, travel the world as a job, even in their karting days.

We can sympathise with it and him, but don’t make excuses ,come up with theories or put the blame on motorsport. It shows that you are trying to sugarcoat it because you are aware that there’s no defence for it. He’s just … uneducated on basic geography but you don’t want to think about it because you like him. But you don’t have to “unfollow” him because of it. You can still like everything else about him while admitting that it can be better and surely without shaming him!

I believe that formal institutionalised academics are to ensure a certain level is reached. You actually can learn everything alone but of course, can’t or are not allowed to do some things without certification, for everyone’s safety. So it doesn’t make sense that just because someone didn’t complete high school, they are illiterate and completely stupid. As someone who comes from countries with actual illiterate people and is the daughter of one (who is now literate but you can see the struggle when one reached a certain age and the brain has harder times correcting some errors). So please stop theorizing that just because he or other drivers haven’t attended university or maybe have not finished high school, they are uneducated.

Edit: I saw the replies and rechecked my post, you are right and I modified the term. But I want to explain that I did not mean that he is actually stupid. I was just lacking of words and terms to explain what I meant. Now I replaced it with “Uneducated on basic geography” because I know very well he has other theological knowledge that would be hard to me. The “illiterate” part is misunderstood, I meant that as a way to indeed say that I believe the contrary: People can be literate without high school. I added it there because a pet peeve of mine is people actually being convinced that without a minimum of 3 years of university makes you illiterate all of a sudden. It’s a silly mentality to me, and it’s always an ick when a “fan” of him uses this “excuse”. I wanted to be understood but I messed up and I am sorry, but I hope you people understand what I meant in general with the post. I did not make it to shade him or point it out unlike many people in various social medias and comments under these videos;

I made this post to tell people who overanalyze and over-excuse him to just let it be. That’s it. It’s backhanded to put so much energy into this and prove otherwise when it’s plain simple (and other factors could play a role in it too, I know). But some people want to gaslight themselves into thinking that a celebrity of their liking is not as amazing(according to their personal standards and values) as they wish they were. People do this with other celebrities too, pushing the narrative that one is “secretly intentionally chaotic” or the contrary, just an example. People need to accept their celebrities without the guilt for one thing that turns them off. Or at least respect it and not force said narrative. People will gaslight themselves into changing the smallest details about celebrities to “vibe” better with them. Especially females (or maybe I notice it more with them because I am also one?), for example they will make hundreds of posts to show that they appreciate the female star’s natural voice when in reality it’s just simply at its’ deepest. I think it’s tied with the “not like the other girls” preference. Because they act like they have super high pitched voices when they simply are…ladies with an average feminine voice+feminine (sometimes hyper) style and persona. And all feminine things are now being called “cutesy” and childlike. When sometimes they are simply feminine /+and pretty. Because many times they are not even obnoxious at it. You’d think that they are talking about an anime girl voice, but it’s just a lady. They just don’t vibe with her voice and will gaslight themselves that she’s pushing it , ‘but that’s okay to them’.

[disneyprincemuke]

the hated and the endeared

[fast times and fast nights]

when you think rebellious and outspoken in f1, who is your answer? if your answer is jupiter nightshade, you’d be absolutely right. so, imagine everyone’s surprise when it came out — through no fault of her own because aella had posted a picture of them together — that seemingly cold hearted jupiter is dating warm and bubbly oscar piastri.

→ qatar, 2021

“oi, mate!” oscar barges into the garage with a hand on his forehead. “why did you do that?”

aella, pulling her red racesuit up her legs looks up at her best friend in the dark blue hoodie. “what did i do?”

jupiter comes out from behind him with her hands on her hips. “you outted us to the public, aella.”

at the sight of the world champion — the person she looks up to, literally — she stumbles back a couple of steps and holds onto the wing of the car parked in the garage to balance herself. “it was a group photo!”

“i had my hand around her waist!”

“it’s not my fault you can’t keep your hands off of her for one picture!”

jupiter sighs, throwing her head back. “aella.”

“i’m sorry,” she cries out, hurriedly pulling up her race suit over her body. “i thought you guys were okay with people finding out. we went to the bahamas together! that’s a public space. i’m sorry, jupiter.” she looks at oscar. “help me; i don’t want to get mauled before my race.”

a small smile plays on jupiter’s lips watching the younger driver looking at oscar for some form of protection. she taps aella on her arm. “okay, fine. only because,” jupiter sighs, wrapping her hands around oscar’s arm and rests her head on his shoulder, “i like him a lot.”

there are many questions surrounding their involvement. oscar… oscar piastri… that name rings a bell, doesn’t it?

— renault junior, oscar piastri, wins 2020 f3 championship title on first try

— breaking: prema driver, oscar piastri, announces retirement from racing after winning 2021 f2 championship title to focus on furthering his education

i think you can see why there’s a lot of questions regarding their involvement. a kid with a bright future ahead of him in the racing scene suddenly steps away after his alleged involvement with the reigning world champion.

rumour has it that jupiter had asked oscar to step away from the racing scene so that she can keep unapologetically be a menace on the track. there was even one alleging that jupiter is forcing him to be her trophy boyfriend – to sit in the sidelines while she dominates the track.

❝no, god! that’s an absurd thing to say. stepping away from racing to focus on my education is a decision that was set in stone even before i met jupiter. she didn’t have to convince me to quit racing; she didn’t even know of the decision up until a week before my last race in f2.❞

❝ohh, he announces his retirement from the sport and suddenly everyone is accusing me of forcing him to quit racing. no, i didn’t tell him to quit. i even joked with oscar that the only way i’ll be giving up my championship is if he is fighting me for it.❞*

the villainisation of jupiter nightshade doesn’t end there. you know how to story goes: a woman dominating a sport meant for men. the woman who paved the way for several others to earn their rightful spot in f1 with her and roxanne castle.

– ❝jupiter nightshade takes the podium once again for tonight’s race. on your screens, folks, is jupiter and her boyfriend, oscar piastri, in an embrace. this win means a lot for her – she’s now taken the lead for the driver’s championship away from mercedes driver (and long time rival) sonnet pham.❞

– ❝oscar piastri was sighted walking about in the paddocks alongside best friends, aella gutierrez and logan sargeant, before bidding them goodbye to enter the red bull racing home.❞

– ❝jupiter nightshade’s custom ferrari was spotted in oscar piastri’s university parking lot. shortly after, they were seen walking out of campus hand-in-hand before he drove them out of the parking lot.❞

– ❝there’s just something off about how oscar retired shortly after they came out and told everyone they’re dating.❞

– ❝did you see oscar’s instagram the other night? they went on a romantic dinner in monaco together! that might have been one of the rare times that i’ve seen jupiter nightshade sport such a genuine smile.❞

– ❝jupiter nightshade is under investigation by the fia stewards for pushing another driver off the track.❞

but even ice melts when you’re in the presence of the warmest smile everyone’s ever seen.

→ japan gp, 2023

“no, it doesn’t make any fucking sense!” jupiter scolds, walking into her garage with her helmet in her hands. “that’s stupid – why did you let kelly pass me? i was faster! i needed those extra points!”

christian sighs, stepping back as the angry girl approaches. “jupiter, please. calm down first.”

“camellia closed up our gap! one wrong move and i swear either mercedes is coming for my throat in the championship fight!” she throws her arms in the air. she takes a deep breath, ready to continue her rampage.

in the corner of her eye, she notices a figure taking off the headphones from his head and approaching her. she does a double take, unsure if she’s hallucinating. she raises her eyebrows with a smile. “oscar!”

“jupiter!” oscar laughs, opening his arms as he comes towards her. “surprise! i made it out this weekend! i finished my submissions early and i got a flight to fly out in the afternoon yesterday. i arrived this morning; i’ve been hiding in the mclaren home with aella the entire day.”

“oh, you’re sneaky!” jupiter laughs, throwing her arms around oscar. “i’m so glad you could make it. thank you.”

the signature smirks turn into the warmest smiles in his presence — some might argue that her ice cold demeanour is thawing with his presence. but everyone says, and swears, that oscar piastri made jupiter nightshade more likeable. they could very well be right. but is that what she thinks?

@cashtons-wife @darleneslane @angsthology

[atla-confessions]

the “i love you azula, i do” was a hallucination & can’t be counted as an argument. it doesn’t matter whether or not ursa loved her daughter, azula is still a product of neglect & ursa’s parenting (& favouritism of zuko) had a negative effect on her well-being. keep in mind azula was eight when ursa left. her formative years were spent without anybody to love & nurture her. zuko had iroh, azula didn’t.

^^response to ask about people rooting their arguments in headcanon and also heavily rooted in headcanon

I don't know how to tell you this. But, what the hallucination represents and whether it represents truth or not is also a headcanon. As well as whether Azula can be considered a 100% reliable narrator when claiming her mother thought she was a monster. We do see Ursa making Zuko play with Azula (classic loving mother behavior) we don't see her treating Azula like a monster. Also, Azula said, "my mom liked Zuko more than me" not that she didn't like her. (And, the only time we see what she is doing while Zuko is having time with their mom, she is with her friends.)

In regards to the mirror scene, Ursa says many things. First she says Azula always had "beautiful hair" is this a lie? Then she says "I didn't want to miss my own daughter's coronation." Is this a lie? (the argument that this is a lie is the biggest) Then she says "I think you're confused. All your life you used fear to control people, like your friends Mai and Ty Lee." Is this a lie? Then "I love you, Azula. I do." Is this also a lie?

If you take it as all a lie than Ursa hated Azula's hair, Ursa would not have attended Azula's coronation even if she was still around, Azula didn't use fear to control people and Ursa didn't love Azula. Some of it, is definitely true. The only thing in it we can definitely confirm is true. (Using fear to control people) So people are just as right to headcanon the hallucination as true as you are to headcanon the hallucination as false. (Both are headcanons/interpretations)

"It doesn't matter if Ursa loved her daughter," the post is literally analyzing the two alternate headcanons in the fandom based on whether or not Ursa thought Azula was a monster and treated her badly because of it. Yes, whether or not Ursa loved her daughter is relevant when discussing that.

The neglect, is also a headcanon. Azula canonically had the affection and preferential treatment of their father. This might be considered worthless due to him being abusive but Azula didn't have nobody. She had a bad person loving and nurturing her. Which isn't technically neglect unless you headcanon that Ozai neglected her also.

Ursa left to save Zuko's life. Are you under the impression that Zuko's life is worth less than Azula's happiness? If a parent is arrested or otherwise forcefully separated from their children, that isn't neglect. The child can feel neglected but it isn't the parent's fault.

It is implied Ursa favored Zuko but we do not know the extent of it or if Azula's perception of it was influenced by the manipulations of Ozai or the fact she believes that she genuinely deserves better than Zuko ("You can't treat me like Zuko!"). We have no idea what Ursa did (in the show) other than likely spend more time with Zuko. The rest is headcanon.

(Also, since you mentioned Iroh. We are literally shown Azula hating Iroh in a flashback before he even comes back. While Zuko is shown liking Iroh. Now her hate is generally considered to be the result of Ozai's manipulation but is Iroh obligated to make the effort to help a child that isn't his, hates him and is liable to report his efforts to her father which would result in him being unable to help either child? Maybe. But Iroh isn't actually responsible for either child. He is responsible for the fire nation, so him targeting the child who is supposed to be the heir (albeit not in practice but by law of succession) makes logical sense if he wants to end the war and build a better fire nation.)

X

[canichangemyblogname]

for what it's worth, i don't think the 911 fandom is capable of critically engaging neither with the source material nor fandom... behaviours. your words are wasted on this audience, babe. 😔

OOF

NGL— I don’t actually expect to change hearts and minds if I don’t have an interpersonal relationship with someone. The internet isn’t really designed for revolutionary discussions because by design, it creates “echo chambers” and rather abrupt “culture shock” from the inelegant melding of worldviews. People are confronted with worldviews and analyses before they’ve been equipped with the background knowledge and vocabulary for the discussion at hand.

So someone with a conservative worldview, let’s say, will see a tweet by a history museum that seeks to teach about racial inequality. That tweet includes an infographic about how the nuclear family and perfectionism are features of cultural white supremacy. However, that conservative has not had the necessary pre-requisite conversations that establish the definitions of “social construct” or the features of “white supremacy” or the political origins of the “nuclear family.” But they know the tweet has something to do with race and racism because it mentions “white culture,” and so—through the knowledge they have—assume that this history museum is calling parenthood racist.

This is an actual thing that happened in US American Political discourse.

Given the primary criticism my post received was in regards to me “making up” reasons to hate a trope and trying to “moralize” dislike for a common feature of 911 fanfiction, I think it’s safe to assume that most 911 fans have not previously had discussion about the mammy trope. They’ve yet to essentially be taught to recognize the way racist writing tropes manifest in character building, the development of a character’s interpersonal relationships with other characters, and in plot and plot devices. (Although, I do find it hard to believe that they’ve never heard this criticism of the way they write Black Women, as there are Black Women in this fandom who have certainly said something before. Like… there is no way this has gone unsaid.)

Because they’re unfamiliar with this, they very likely think that their writing does no harm, despite the fact they’re shoving these characters into caricatures with a very long history in stereotypes and bigotry. They’re also unlikely to assume that these caricatures have affected the way they view people because they’re unaware of how they’re based in stereotypes or how these stereotypes do harm. Assigning the “caregiver” role to a Black Woman just feels right to them, no analysis on why they came to that gut assumption.

Then they see a post criticizing something they do and it feels to them like making a mountain out of a molehill.

(A recent example— although not race-related— being that one 911 blog who claimed that gay men are non-committal, sleep around a lot, and really lax about prophylactics and disease. When called out on that, her reasoning was that stereotypes must come from somewhere, and that “somewhere” must be reality. But while a hegemonic class may base stereotypes in some part of a political reality: the disparate treatment of a marginalized class by the hegemonic class, they are not materially true (aka— those realities that exist on the ground). EX: It is a political reality that queer communities were devastated by the HIV/AIDS epidemic, but the reason for that devastation was literal governmental neglect. The hegemonic class used this very real political truth to portray queer men as diseased, sexually deviant, and to further stigmatize queerness. It is true that queerness has been stigmatized by disease, but it is untrue that this is the fault of certain members of the queer community and their inherent behavior. A stereotype is ultimately a political narrative.)

But that doesn’t mean there aren’t people who are simply… underinformed. They see that same post and go, “Huh. I didn’t consider— that’s a good point.” They have a light-bulb moment and come to see what they were reading in a new light. An example being—well—you during 911’s “daddy discourse,” where you said that in hindsight, you recognize that your discomfort with “daddy,” but not “mommy” was due to your relationship with archetypes of masculinity as a woman in a patriarchal society.

And while I do write these posts for that light-bulb moment among a few, I ultimately write them for the people who are directly impacted. If you roll your eyes and say, “Why does everything have to be about controversy, just let me write whatever without criticism; I’m giving it to you for free,” you aren’t my intended audience. My intended audience is ALWAYS the individual who has been scrolling through the main tags, blocking people left and right for bad takes and terrible caricatures. My intended audience is the fan who wants to give up on a fan space because of how hostile it is to them. They deserve to see that there are people in that same fan space who recognize.