#it makes me so fucking angry and so fucking sad

[formulafanfics13]

oooooo I love your Driver Reactions fics. Especially the crush one. I am M E L T I N G🫠🫠🫠

Any chance you could do one when you get back where they react to reader avoiding them because she has a crush on THEM? I don't know if that sentence made sense. Anyway, thanks for feeding us 😛 ❤️

You Avoiding Them

lando norris He notices IMMEDIATELY. You used to laugh at everything he said. You used to wave at him across the paddock. Now you barely make eye contact. He dies a little inside. Starts overcompensating HARD. Loud jokes. Stupid comments. Laughing too loud in your direction. “Guess she hates me now,” he says to Oscar, but then spends three hours trying to find out what he did wrong. Eventually corners you in a hallway and blurts, “Did I fuck up or are you just allergic to me now?” You stammer something incoherent and he just STARES. “Oh,” he whispers. “You like me.” Then grins like a fucking child. “Say it. Come on. SAY IT.”

oscar piastri Thinks he imagined it at first. You’re quieter. Less present. More... gone. Watches you flinch when he walks into a room and starts spiralling internally. “I must’ve done something. Did I say something weird? Did I walk weird? Oh my god, was it the cheese conversation?” Does not know how to ask without sounding insane. Eventually just goes, “Hey… have I done something wrong?” You: “No.” Him: “Because you’re acting like I give you hives and I swear I don’t—unless they’re like good hives?” You freeze. He freezes. You: “I like you.” Him: “Wait. What.” Cue the slowest, most adorable red-faced “oh my god” moment ever.

charles leclerc Heartbroken. Fully confused. Whispers, “Pourquoi…?” to himself at night. Starts replaying every interaction in his head like a dramatic indie film. Goes quiet around you. Wears sad sunglasses. Writes poetry in Notes app titled Invisible To Her. Eventually breaks and corners you behind the motorhome. “Why are you avoiding me?” You: “Because I like you.” Him: stunned silence. Then: “So you run away?” You: “Yes?” Him: laughing, panicking, blushing “That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” Then cups your face and goes, “Don’t ever hide from me again.”

lewis hamilton Knows immediately. He’s perceptive. Your vibe changes. Your energy shifts. You won’t meet his eyes. You dodge every one-on-one interaction. You disappear the second he shows up. He’s confused, then curious, then cocky. “She's hiding from me,” he says to Roscoe. “That usually means something.” Eventually catches you in a quiet hallway and softly goes, “What are you afraid of?” You: “Nothing.” Him: “Liar.” Takes one step closer. Your breath stutters. His smirk widens. “You’ve got a crush on me.” You: “No I don’t.” Him: “You do. And you’re terrible at hiding it. Come here.”

max verstappen Thinks you’re mad at him. Spirals hard. Asks around. “Did I say something weird? Did I offend her?” Stalks your socials. Realises you’re still liking his posts. Gets more confused. Eventually corners you in a garage and goes, “If you hate me just say it to my face.” You: “I don’t hate you.” Max: “Then why the fuck do you run away every time I look at you?” You: whispers “Because I like you.” He stares. Blinks. Takes a step back like you slapped him. “Oh.” Goes quiet. Then: “Okay. Cool. You scared the shit out of me. Wanna go for a drive?”

yuki tsunoda Angry. “You’re ghosting me? What the fuck?” Storms into a room like an angry raccoon in Dior. Follows you around the paddock going, “You ignoring me? Seriously? After all the ramen we shared?” You: “I’m not-” Him: “You are! You won’t even look at me!” Eventually corners you and says, “I didn’t do anything, so if you’re mad, you better explain it.” You go silent. He stares. “You like me, don’t you?” You nod. He stares. “Holy shit.” Runs away screaming. Comes back five minutes later with flowers from the team hospitality.

carlos sainz His ego shatters. “Why doesn’t she look at me anymore?” Asks everyone. Multiple times. Genuinely goes to bed upset. Wears cologne more often. Gets his hair done. Starts saying random Italian phrases louder when you’re near. Finally stops you outside your trailer and goes, “I don’t know what I did, but if I hurt you, tell me.” You: “You didn’t. I just… like you.” Carlos, stunned: “That’s it? That’s why you’ve been ignoring me? Dios mío.” You: “I didn’t know how to act.” Him: “Just act normal. Like you love me. That’s what I’m doing.”

alex albon Spirals in silence. “Do I smell? Is it the hair? Did I say something too weird?” Oscar: “She likes you, idiot.” Alex: “She what now?” Starts watching you more. Realises you do flinch when he’s near. You do avoid eye contact. Internal screaming. Finally walks up and blurts, “I make you nervous, don’t I?” You: “What?” Him: “Because you like me.” You: “No I don’t.” Him: “Then why are you sweating right now?” You: “Because you’re standing very close.” Him: “Exactly.”

george russell Defo logs it like a spreadsheet error. He's all like, “Something’s different in the data.” Starts analysing your body language like telemetry. Takes it personally. Thinks you’re over him. Eventually corners you at an event and says, “Did I lose your respect?” You: “No.” Him: “Then why are you avoiding me?” You: “Because I like you, and I’m trying to not embarrass myself.” George: visibly crashes inside. “You could’ve just said that. I’ve been planning our wedding in my head for two months.”

kimi antonelli Says nothing. Watches you avoid him. Watches you panic when he walks into a room. Watches you run away. Doesn’t ask. Doesn’t text. Doesn’t force it. Just waits. Quiet. Observing. Then one day, you sit alone at lunch. He sits beside you and slides a coffee over. You: “What’s this?” Him: “You’ve been hiding from me.” You: silent Him: “So I brought you a peace offering. And I’m not leaving until you tell me why you’re scared of looking at me.” You: barely whisper “Because I like you.” He smiles, just barely. “Good. Then stop running.”

lance stroll Confused. Like literally Confused.Com... “Is she mad?” Tries to smile at you. Gets nothing. Tries to wave. You walk past. Tells Fernando, “She definitely hates me now.” Eventually gets tired of guessing and just walks straight up to you. “You’re ignoring me. That’s fine. I just want to know why.” You: “I don’t mean to—” Him: “You do.” You: sigh “I like you.” Lance: blinking “So... you’re running away from me because you like me?” You: “Yes.” Him: “Okay. Cool. I’ll chase you then.”

fernando alonso Knows exactly what you’re doing. You stop meeting his eyes. Start walking out of rooms. Laugh less. He clocks it immediately. “Ah,” he says to himself. “She’s falling.” Doesn’t confront you. Just starts turning up the heat. Touches your lower back when he passes. Says your name slower. Stares a second too long. Eventually pins you with a smirk and says, “I scare you, don’t I?” You: “No.” Him: “You do everything to avoid me. That means you want me.” You open your mouth. He raises a brow. “Don’t bother denying it. Just come here.”

liam lawson Cries. Not literally, but inside. Feels like his world collapsed because you suddenly stopped laughing at his jokes. Asks Yuki for advice. Yuki tells him to grow some balls. Tries to act normal. Fails. Eventually blurts out, “Did I make you hate me?” You: “No!” Him: “Then why do you look like you’re in pain every time I walk in?” You: sigh “Because I like you and it’s embarrassing.” Liam: frozen Liam: blushing Liam: “Holy fuck. You’re embarrassing? I cried after your Instagram story last week.”

isack hadjar Watches you act different. Smiles a little. Knows what it is. Pretends he doesn’t. Then finally traps you in conversation and goes, “So what’s the deal? Too shy to say hi now?” You shrug. He steps closer. “You used to laugh when I made eye contact. Now you leave the room.” You: “I like you, okay?” Isack: “I know.” You: “What?” Him: “I knew. I just wanted to hear you say it.”

ollie bearman Hurts his feelings. He waves. You look away. He says hi. You ignore it. He goes home and stares at the ceiling wondering why you hate him.🥺 Texts you: “did I do something???” You don’t answer. He spirals. Eventually corners you and says, “If you hate me, just say it to my face.” You whisper, “I like you.” He short-circuits. “You WHAT?” You repeat it. He turns red. Then grins so big it hurts. “Okay. Cool. Same. Also… you owe me three weeks of hugs for that emotional damage.”

esteban ocon So dramatic about it. You stop making eye contact? He writes a fucking novel in his head. “She hates me. She must hate me. Was I annoying? Am I annoying? Have I always been annoying?” Starts dressing better. Gets new sunglasses. Compliments your outfit just loud enough that you hear. Eventually corners you with a weirdly serious look and goes, “We used to talk. Did I lose you?” You: “No.” Him: “Then why do you avoid me?” You: quietly “Because I like you.” He just… stares. Then full body sighs. “Okay. Great. Good. I’ll go cry now. But like, in a happy way.”

pierre gasly Absolutely feral over it. Probably cries to Charles. You used to flirt back. Now you dodge him. “You’re ghosting me? ME?” Texting your name in all caps. Showing up to conversations you’re in just to get ignored in person. Loudly flirts with other people to see if you react. You don’t. He sulks. Eventually corners you like, “You avoiding me because you don’t like me anymore?” You: “I’m avoiding you because I do like you and I don’t know what to do about it.” Him: pause Him: “So you’re insane. Okay. I can work with that.” Proceeds to flirt so hard the entire room clears out.

franco colapinto Panics. Fully, completely spirals. “You’re mad at me. You have to be mad at me. Did I breathe wrong? Did I blink too fast?” Runs simulations in his head like it’s the final lap of Monaco. Eventually corners you outside and just blurts, “You hate me now?” You: “No! I’m just nervous.” Franco: “Of me?” You: “Because I like you, idiot.” Franco: physically collapses against a wall “Don’t say stuff like that. I’m too emotionally fragile for this.” Immediately takes you out for pizza and stares at you like you’re the moon.

nico hülkenberg So calm it’s terrifying. You stop talking to him. He notices instantly. Says nothing. But watches. Closely. Every flinch, every sidestep, every blush, he clocks it like data. Then one day, with zero warning, he corners you in a hallway and goes, “You’ve been avoiding me. That means you either hate me, or want me. Which is it?” You freeze. He leans in, eyes dark. “Come on. Say it.” You: “I like you.” Nico: “There it is.” Then walks away. Like a fucking menace. (He’ll kiss you the next day like nothing happened.)

gabriel bortoleto “Bro. She’s literally ignoring me.” Whining to anyone who’ll listen. “She laughed at my joke last week. Laughed. Now I say hi and she vanishes like a fucking magician.” Spends way too much time rehearsing what to say. Ends up doing nothing. Eventually blurts it out mid-convo: “Did I upset you? Are you mad? Is this a Sagittarius thing? I don’t know your chart.” You blink. “I like you, dumbass.” He short-circuits. Full brain reboot. “Oh. Okay. That’s cool. That’s good. I’m chill. I’m totally chill.” He is not chill. He’s sweating through his shirt.

Others

toto wolff He notices. Instantly. You avoid him at one sponsor event. He says nothing. Then it happens again. And again. By the fourth time, he corners you like you just cost Mercedes a championship. “I’m not stupid,” he says, voice low and tight. “I know when someone’s avoiding me.” You: “I just-” Toto: “What? You just what? Don’t like looking at me anymore?” You crack. “I like you, okay?” He pauses. Slowly nods. “Right.” Then steps way too close and says, “Next time, just say hello. I don’t bite... unless you want me to.”

james vowles This man spirals like it’s a race weekend gone to hell. You used to be friendly. Now you physically walk in the opposite direction. He stares after you like you’ve stabbed him. Texts you: “Did I do something wrong?” Deletes it. Sends a professional email instead. Finally corners you in the hospitality lounge and asks, “Did I offend you somehow?” You stutter. Avoid his eyes. He sighs, already looking crushed. “Alright. I’ll give you space-” You: “I like you.” James.exe has crashed. “Oh,” he says, blinking. “Well. That’s... an acceptable reason. Want to get coffee and pretend we’re normal?”

paul aron Panics. Loudly. Dramatically. Pathetically. Probs crying. Tells like three different people, “She’s avoiding me. She fucking hates me. I’ve ruined everything. I’m never making eye contact with another woman again.” Overthinks every past interaction. Eventually finds you in the paddock and blurts, “If you hate me just say it. I won’t cry. I mean I will, but not in public.” You: “I like you.” Him: pauses “Wait, what?” You: “That’s why I avoid you.” Paul: “THAT’S WORSE. THAT’S SO MUCH WORSE.” You: “Why?” Him: “Because now I’m in love.”

arthur leclerc Heartbroken. “You didn’t even say hi to me today,” he mutters to himself like he’s in a French art film. Like fully sat in the passanger seat as Charles drives, and he's looking out the windor, one hand against the grass  as it rains outside - like he's in a movie or something. Watches you walk past him. Again. Without looking. Whispers, “Je suis fini.” Texts Charles for advice. Charles is useless. Eventually corners you outside a trailer and asks, “Did I do something wrong?” You: “No.” Him: “Then why do you run away?” You: “Because I like you.” He gasps. Audibly. “Mon dieu.” Then covers his face and says, “I need to sit down.” You laugh. He looks at you, fully wrecked, and says, “Don’t laugh. I’m already writing our wedding vows in my head.”

pato o’ward Loses his mind. “You’re ignoring me now? ME? You used to flirt back. What happened?” Whines about it for days. Asks literally everyone. “Did she get bored of me? Am I not hot anymore? Did I say something weird?” Eventually traps you by the bar and goes, “Okay, full offence, why the fuck are you pretending I don’t exist?” You: “Because I like you and I didn’t know how to deal with it.” He stares. Then laughs so hard he drops his drink. “You LIKE me?” “Like for real?” Spins in a full circle. Then looks you dead in the eye and says, “You’re fucked. Because now I’m not letting you escape.”

sebastian vettel Feels it. Quietly. You stop laughing at his jokes. Stop walking beside him. Stop showing up early like you used to. He notices. Says nothing. Until one day he finds you in a quiet corridor and goes, “You don’t talk to me anymore.” You: “I got busy.” Him: “You got careful.” You look away. He smiles. “You like me, don’t you?” You go still. He nods. “I’m right.” Then soft, vulnerable, painfully sincere: “You don’t have to hide it. Not from me.” And you melt. Right there in the hallway.

kimi räikkönen Says nothing for days. Just watches. You used to linger when he walked into a room. Now you leave. He notices. Doesn’t speak. Just drinks his vodka and stares. Then one day, out of nowhere, he walks up and says, “You stop looking at me. Why?” You: “No reason.” Kimi: “That’s a lie.” You: “Because I like you.” He stares. Nods. “Okay.” Then turns around and walks away. Next morning, he leaves a coffee on your desk and a note that says, “You can look at me again now.”

jack doohan FREAKS. “You don’t talk to me anymore,” he texts. Then deletes it. Then texts again: “Did I do something weird? I mean besides existing? Or Shaving my head?” Fully spirals. Begs Lance for advice. Pierre tells him to grow up. Eventually explodes. “You don’t laugh at my jokes anymore. You avoid me. You barely look at me. What the fuck did I do?” You: “I like you.” Jack: screaming internally “Why didn’t you just say that???” You: “Because I panicked!” Jack: “Okay well now I’m panicking but in like… a good way. A hot way.”

david coulthard Smirks. Watches you avoid him with lowkey amusement. “Oh, she’s shy now?” Starts finding excuses to corner you. Asks you to hand him things. To join meetings. To pass him napkins he absolutely does not need. Eventually traps you alone and says, “You used to look me in the eye. Now you don’t. I wonder why.” You: “Because I like you.” Him: “Well, fuck me gently with a stopwatch.” Then smiles, steps closer, and murmurs, “So now that we’ve cleared that up… are you gonna keep running, or do I finally get to kiss you?”

jenson button Genuinely confused at first. You used to tease him. Now you won’t even say hello. “Did I say something dumb? I mean, I probably did, but like… specifically what was it?” Overthinks it to death. Eventually blurts it out: “You’re ignoring me and I just want to know if I should be embarrassed or emotionally devastated.” You: “I like you.” Him: “That’s not an answer, that’s a confession.” You: “Yeah.” Him: grinning like the sun “Cool. Cool cool cool. Want to go make bad decisions together right now or wait five minutes?”

mick schumacher Breaks his whole heart over it. You used to light up around him. Now you barely glance in his direction. Goes home and stares at the ceiling like, “She hates me. I knew it. I always mess this up. I’m too soft. She wants someone cooler. Someone taller. Someone with an edge.” Texts you: “Everything okay?” Doesn’t send it. Writes it again. Still doesn’t send it. Eventually corners you by the coffee machine with big sad blue eyes. “Did I do something wrong?” You whisper, “No. I like you.” He BLUSHES. “Wait… you like me? You were avoiding me because of that?” Smiles so wide it hurts. “Don’t do that again. You scared the hell out of me.”

checo pérez Confused. You’re polite, distant, too formal. Won’t meet his eye. Won’t even joke with him anymore. Asks quietly, “Did I overstep something?” When you shake your head, he frowns deeper. Eventually walks up, stands beside you, and says, “You treat everyone the same, except me. Why?” You freeze. Checo stares at you, arms crossed, waiting. You mumble, “Because I like you.” He goes quiet. Then exhales softly and murmurs, “Thank god. I thought I’d scared you off.” Then touches your hand gently and says, “You can avoid everyone else. Just not me.”

christian horner Finds it entertaining. Raises an eyebrow when you avoid him in the hospitality suite. Smirks when you turn the other way during a meeting. Tells Max, “Someone’s got a little crush.” He rolls his eyes. “You’re imagining things.” He is not. Eventually corners you in the paddock and says, “Are you actively trying not to look at me, or is it just a really unfortunate optical pattern?” You stutter. He leans closer. “Ah,” he murmurs, “so it is about me.” You: “Yes.” Him: “Well then. We’re going to have to do something about that.”

logan sargeant Totally panics. “You okay?” You: “Yep.” Him: “Sure? Because you used to like… talk to me?” You: “Busy.” He spirals. Asks Alex, “Do I smell? Did I say something dumb?” Eventually walks up to you and nervously blurts, “Are you mad at me?” You: “No, Logan. I just have a crush on you and I don’t know how to act normal.” Him: “Oh.” Him: “Ohhhhhhh.” Him: “Okay. Um. Do you wanna like… not avoid me? Because I really like seeing your face. Even when you look like you want to kill me.”

nico rosberg Deeply insulted. Raises an eyebrow when you stop waving. Mutters to himself, “Well, that’s new.” Thinks you’re playing games. Thinks you’re being cold for fun. Until someone tells him, “She’s into you, idiot.” He short-circuits. Approaches you with that perfect media-trained charm and says, “I noticed you’ve been… distant. That’s not like you.” You mumble that it’s nothing. He lowers his voice and says, “You’re not very good at hiding it, you know.” You: “Hiding what?” Nico: “The way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.” Then he smiles. The kind of smile that ruins lives.

valtteri bottas Quiet confusion. Watches you avoid him and just… files it away. Sips his coffee. Furrows his brow. Stares into the distance thinking about it for the rest of the day. Eventually stops you outside the garage and gently asks, “Did I do something to upset you?” You: “No.” Him: “You’re avoiding me.” You: “I like you and I didn’t know how to deal with it.” Valtteri just blinks. “Oh. Okay.” Then, very softly: “Would it help if I said I like you too? I can make you a one of a kind calendar?” You almost fall over. He smiles. “That’s better. Let’s not avoid each other anymore.”

[waynes-multiverse]

Time After Time – Chapter 16

Summary: Unable to control your abilities, you’re stuck in the present with Billy Butcher, his team, and America’s first asshole. At this point, you’ve become Soldier Boy’s personal punching bag. But when an accident leaves you stranded in 1942, you run into a familiar face and suddenly rely on your future tormentor’s help as your only hope.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x supe!Reader

Warnings: 18+ for language, back in the present, SB being his charming self and every (bad) thing that comes with it, humor, pining, a bit of angst and hurt, enemies to lovers, slow burnin' through this one, fluff

Word Count: 8.1k

Posted on Patreon June 15, 2025

A/N: I'm a sucker for bottle episodes on TV and in stories. Give me two tortured characters sitting on the floor and having deep conversations, and I'll die happy.

✨ Chapter title inspired by me-e-ee

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 16: I Don't Care What the Papers Say!

Ben knocked once.

Hard enough to be heard, but not so loud it’d wake the whole damn block. Just loud enough to be undeniable. Just enough for you to know it was him.

No answer, but not surprising either.

He could hear you, of course. Super-hearing or not, Ben always knew the difference between silence and absence. You were in there, alright. Breathing slow. Still. Ignoring him like it was a full-time job. He didn’t even need to press his ear to the door. He could hear your heartbeat if he really focused. That steady, annoyed rhythm. Still close – but not coming any closer.

So he knocked again. Slower this time.

Still nothing.

He leaned a shoulder against the doorframe and exhaled. “Alright, I know you in there.”

No response again. Ben could hear the music, though.

Not loud. Not enough to be obnoxious. Just enough to make the old brownstone buzz faintly through the concrete. A record. Vinyl – not fucking digital. He could tell by the soft static and occasional warble.

It was some grunge shit. Female vocals, probably late 90s. Not his thing, but it fit. A little sad. A little angry. Just like you.

“I can hear you breathing, sweetheart. Don’t play dumb.”

Fuckin’ nothing.

Ben dragged a hand down his face, then crossed his arms. “C’mon, you’re really gonna make me talk through the door like a fuckin’ sitcom neighbor? You know I hate that shit.”

Still no response. Not even a bratty fucking comment. That stung more than he wanted to admit.

His knuckles softly tapped the wood once more. “You know, if you open the door, you can punch me again or at least slam it in my face. Tell you what, sweetheart – I’ll let you kick me in the crown jewels once. How’s that, huh? Hell, might even like it if it’s you, so don’t be surprised if I moan instead of flinch.”

A beat passed, and then finally:

“You’re not coming in,” you said, voice dry as paper.

“Figured,” he muttered and dropped down on the steps just outside your door. His back leaned against the frame and brick wall, one knee up, the other stretched across the concrete like he had all goddamn night. “Place still smells like cheap paint and lavender. But hey, at least it got character… and possibly black mold. Had to pick the shittiest apartment in New York, didn’t you?”

You still didn’t say anything, but he heard the quiet creak of the floorboards inside and your breathing just behind the door, measured and intentional – you were listening.

And sure, on some level, he knew this was fucking stupid. You didn’t want to see him. You made that clear when you told him to fuck off several times by now. But he couldn’t not be here – not after today.

Not after everything.

“Y’know, I liked it better when you yelled at me and threw me ‘round through time,” he said and let his head rest against the wood, shutting his eyes for a second. “Now I knock and don’t even get a ‘go to hell.’ Kinda hurtin’ my feelings, sweetheart.”

“You don’t have feelings,” you bit.

Ben smirked. There you were.

“I’m not here to fight, alright? Just figured if you hate me, I should at least fuckin’ show up for it,” he said and rubbed a thumb over a splinter in the wood.

“You gonna sit there forever?” you snapped. “Go away and leave me alone.”

“Not yet.”

“You’re wasting your time.”

“I don’t think so,” Ben replied, a smile curling on his lips. “You haven’t vanished yet, which means you don’t fuckin’ hate me as much as you think you do.”

“Don’t kid yourself. Me staying has nothing to do with you,” you argued. “This is my home. I like it here. I have friends here. If anyone should fucking leave, it’s you.”

“You can’t even remember most of this shit, including that little whine club of yours.”

You scoffed, and Ben suddenly remembered he wasn’t supposed to make you angrier. You were just making it so goddamn hard on him to hold back. And maybe that was your point all along.

“Hey, I can remember most of them again. It’s coming back. I know Annie and Frenchie and Hughie and Butcher–”

“Butcher ain’t your fuckin’ friend,” he cut in sharply.

“Why? ‘Cause he blackmailed me?” you asked. “I told you it wasn’t that fucking serious – and yeah, I remember that, too.”

“I don’t know. Sounds like a good enough reason to me,” he muttered.

“Everything’s a good fucking reason to you.”

And maybe you were right about that one. Because it surely wasn’t the only reason he wanted Butcher dead. The asshole had not only crossed a line by threatening you but also by threatening him with turning you against him.

Mostly, though, he hated to admit that it also may have been a reason he came to see you tonight. Why he couldn’t give you time and leave you fucking alone.

He had to talk to you before they fucking got to you and spewed all their poison about him.

Ben exhaled slowly. “Look, I know you’re mad at me. I get it. If I were you, I woulda done the same fuckin’ thing.”

You snorted a dark chuckle. “If you were me, New York would be leveled and burning right now.”

“Probably.” Ben pursed his lips, head bobbing. “Listen, I know this is about what happened last week–”

“Don’t.” Your voice cut him like a knife – cold, sharp, and warning.

Ben swallowed heavily. “I don’t wanna rehash it, alright? I just figured you need to–… I had to, okay? I had no choice. I had to push harder. You weren’t breaking, and I was runnin’ outta tricks. Outta time.”

“That it?”

“Yeah, that’s it,” he assured, even though your question sounded like a trap. He just didn’t know what would activate it yet. “I didn’t mean to–”

“Bullshit,” you snapped. “You did mean to. You meant everything. You don’t get to have a say in my life for over a year, treat me like a shit, corner me in my own fucking apartment, and then beg for forgiveness on my doorstep like it’s some goddamn romantic gesture.”

“Didn’t say it was,” Ben muttered, rubbing his palms on his thighs.

Well, shit. There went his plan.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, alright? You think that was fuckin’ fun for me?”

“Kinda, yeah,” you huffed bitterly.

Ben swallowed, nodding. “You really think I wanted this? Any of it? You know that I–…” He didn’t finish, just bit his lips, but you said it for him anyway.

“You were just like him.”

Ben licked his lips, then smacked them. “I know.”

“You’re supposed to protect me,” you added quietly.

“I know that, too,” he admitted and tilted his head back against the brick wall, staring up at stars through the city haze. “Still remember your face that night. It’s been livin’ rent-free in my goddamn skull ever since. You were scared… of me. I did that. On purpose, sure, but doesn’t mean I don’t hate myself for it.” He rubbed his jaw. The heat of shame burned at the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t have–… I wouldn’t have hurt you. You know that.”

“No, I don’t know that, because I don’t know you,” you argued. “I don’t even know if you’re telling the truth or lying through your fucking teeth right now because you’re still playing some sick game.”

Ben closed his eyes for another moment, exhaling a breath through his nose. “I’m not playin’ a game.”

“I. Don’t. Believe. You,” you said and slowly pressed each word out with purpose.

He swallowed the thick lump in his throat. “What d’you want me to say, huh? Just tell me what it fuckin’ takes. Fine, alright? Maybe it was more than a little pretense that night. Maybe I was a jealous asshole and a little rougher than I intended. There, I said it. Fuckin’ happy now?”

“None of this makes me fucking happy!”

“Makes fuckin’ two of us,” Ben scoffed under his breath and rolled his eyes slightly. He waited till the sting in his chest subsided before continuing, “But you still gotta believe me – I wouldn’t’ve hurt you.”

Silence. Fucking crickets. He didn’t know if that was good or bad.

He banged his forehead softly against the door. “Please open it.”

“No.”

Sure, he could’ve kicked it in a while ago, but he figured he’d probably be making the wrong point. Aside from that, you sure as hell would either freeze him, toss him into some historical catastrophe, or disappear from the face of the Earth.

“You think I’ve been stuck on what you did this past year, but it’s not just that,” you continued. “I’ve been trying to figure out how much of what you became over the last eighty years is real… and how much is just for show.”

Ben huffed a humorless chuckle. “Yeah, not sure ‘bout that one, either,” he muttered quietly. “If you find out, lemme know.”

You didn’t say anything, but the record kept playing. The needle scratched faintly as the song faded to its last few bars. Then, he heard you lifting and flipping it.

Side B – fitting.

Your weight inside moved again, heartbeat getting closer. There was a creak of old wood and the rustling of fabric as you seemed to be sitting down on the floor just on the other side of him. If the door disappeared, he could imagine your knees touching. There were no attempts at footsteps or even the door chain shifting, but at least you hadn’t vanished yet.

You were still here – listening.

Ben’s eyes then drifted to the box next to him, resting a hand on the taped-up lid. “I brought your stuff, by the way. Kept it all. Your shoes, that busted old notebook full of chicken scratch equations, the movie projector you made me, even that shirt that didn’t make sense to me till ’69,” he listed, chuckling softly. “I saw you there. At that concert, y’know?”

“You did?”

“Yep. You were gettin’ high with some college kids. Even followed you,” he added.

“Oh, yeah, those kids were so nice. I think they were a throuple. Not sure, but definitely polyamorous,” you mused behind the door. “I left when the topic of an orgy came up. But they gave me LSD. Was my first time doing it.”

Ben’s mouth opened and closed. “Explains a few things,” he murmured lowly, his eyes swerving back to the box. “You know, I thought about burnin’ all this shit several times over the years.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Because you left. Because he didn’t know if he’d see you again. Because it still smelled like you.

He let out a quiet chuckle. “Don’t know. Just couldn’t do it.”

There was silence again on your side, even the song ended. But another started – same tone with a different flavor of ache.

“You can leave it outside,” you said.

“I’d rather hand it to you, if that’s alright.”

“It’s not.”

“Right.” Ben let out a deep sigh. “Got you something else, too. But it’s a surprise. Gotta open the door first, though. Only got about one more hour left, too.”

“Great, so it comes with a countdown,” you huffed, and Ben imagined you even rolled your eyes with it. “Please tell me it’s not you exploding.”

He snorted, amused. “Nah, not the kinda explosion I’ve planned for you, sweetheart.”

“Ew! Why?”

“C’mon, it was right there. Can’t serve me like that,” he replied, chuckling.

“You’re not making a good case for yourself,” you murmured.

“You used to love it when I made those fuckin’ jokes,” Ben noted, laughing a little as a memory popped into his head. “Once made you laugh so hard you snorted your soda through your fuckin’ nose.”

“That was different.”

“How so?”

“It just was.”

You had always been a fucking challenge. Didn’t matter what he’d tried – making you his lover or his enemy.

“I liked who you were then,” you added after a beat.

Ben was quiet, and for a while, the city filled the space between you – the hum of traffic two streets over, someone slamming a cab door, a dog barking faintly from a second-story window.

“Look, uhm, I don’t know how much of that guy’s still in here, but I think some of him is,” Ben said finally. “Specially ‘round you.”

“Coulda fooled me,” you scoffed sharply. “You don’t get to act like you care now.”

That one hit harder than he expected, but he didn’t defend himself either. What was the fucking point? No matter what he said, you didn’t believe him. You never would again, would you?

“I’ll go, okay?” Ben said then and heard your weight shift behind the door. “I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want. I just need to ask you somethin’ first.”

A beat passed before you responded.

“What?”

Ben took a breath and swallowed. “Back at the office, you said you trained, so how long–, uhm, how long have your powers been back? I mean, did you leave on purpose… that night?”

There was nothing but silence – heavy, cruel, and suffocating – till the lock clicked. The door cracked open a moment later.

And there you fucking were again.

His heart stopped when he saw you. Still on the floor, back leaning against the wall next to the door, drowning in a Blondie tee, damp hair from a shower, bare legs stretched out over the old wooden boards. You looked better than you did in the afternoon. Tired as fuck, but better.

“Hey,” he said softly, like you were a deer in a sunny clearing he didn’t want to scare back into the dark woods.

“Hey,” you parroted with the same softness in your voice.

Ben could see it then – you didn’t hate him anymore. Not like you had. You were pissed and mad and five different flavors of disappointed, but you didn’t want to drown him in a volcano any longer.

You swallowed and averted your gaze to your fumbling fingers in your lap. “I was stuck. Nothing was working, no matter what I tried. But, uhm, I got the freezing thing working again after a few weeks,” you explained slowly. “I didn’t leave on purpose, though. I told you.”

“You told me a lotta things.” He smiled weakly. “Most of ‘em lies.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” you said quietly and kept your eyes focused on the floor in front of you. “Kinda the reason I got scared and panicked. I didn’t know how to tell you. Didn’t know what the future would look like. Not until I figured out it was a loop.”

He leaned his head back against the door. “You always had secrets. I knew that much. You’d look at me sometimes like you knew how everything ended.”

“I guess I did,” you admitted. “On some level.”

Ben swallowed thickly, nodding. “So what was the plan? You were never gonna say anything?”

“No, I would have. I think… I wanted to,” you replied. “Just didn’t know when… or how. I was scared you were gonna–…”

You didn’t finish.

“What? Kill you?”

You shook your head and met his eyes. “No, leave.”

“I wouldn’t have.” A sad smile twitched on his lips. “So you really didn’t wanna leave?”

“No.”

The word was barely audible over the music, but he still would’ve heard it even if someone was standing next to his ear with a jackhammer.

A humorless chuckle escaped him. “You know, I always figured I drove you off that night. Wasn’t exactly subtle.”

“No, you weren’t. You never were,” you said, but it wasn’t mean. There was a faint smile on your face.

“Never did get an answer, though,” he noted, swallowing. “Still waiting, y’know. Still wonderin’.”

You looked at him then for a long moment. “Not sure you deserve an answer now.”

“Me neither.” He smiled a little. “Give it to me anyway?”

But you shook your head and averted your gaze again. “I didn’t mean to fall for you, you know? Didn’t mean to hurt you, either.”

He huffed a small laugh. “Funny how that works, huh?”

“I would’ve said yes. I wanted to,” you said then, taking him by surprise. He hadn’t expected an answer. Not when he asked it now and not when he’d asked it back then.

For a while, he didn’t know what else to say. Didn’t know what to ask that would magically make this all better and fix it. What words were significant enough to bandage a wound this big?

Ben exhaled slowly. “Why haven’t you gone back yet?”

You blinked at him, brow close to reaching your hairline.

“You could, right? You have your powers again. You could go back right to that moment before it all went to shit,” he clarified.

You were quiet for a beat. “I could. Thought about it.”

Ben’s head bobbed thoughtfully. “But you haven’t, right? Otherwise we still wouldn’t be sittin’ here.”

“No, guess not…”

“Why?”

You found his eyes, and he could see the tears gleaming in yours. Then you gave a weak shrug of your shoulders. “‘Cause it wasn’t real.”

His jaw clenched. “Don’t fuckin’ say that. It was. It was real.”

“It was a lie. A fantasy,” you argued softly. It wasn’t cruel – just honest. “I’m not saying my feelings weren’t real. They were. But everything else? It would’ve collapsed. It was inevitable… like entropy. We were drifting from order to chaos. From warmth to cold.”

“You don’t know that,” Ben countered.

“Maybe not,” you admitted and looked at him again. “But it’s not just up to me. Not anymore.”

His brow furrowed. “What d’you mean?”

“It’s your life. You should make the decision,” you told him.

Ben sat with that for a while, let the words sink in, even though he barely understood them.

“You should go.”

“What?” Your brow raised like you hadn’t anticipated that answer.

“You love m–… him, right? So you should be with him,” Ben said, although the answer almost broke him.

You didn’t love him. Probably never would. At least not this version of him, so what was the point of holding on? He could get a redo. Maybe even the life he always wanted.

“It’s not that simple,” you said. “The whole world would change. You would change.”

He snorted bitterly. “Might be for the best,” he muttered. “You’d make sure I wouldn’t cross a line or lose myself along the way like I did without you there.”

“I don’t think you understand the implications of it,” you noted. “You don’t know what happens to you – this you.”

He gave a shrug. “I stop existing, right? Just fade away like Marty’s hand.”

You smiled, but it was a sad one. “Maybe. If I go back and stay, the future might rewrite itself, including you. So, yeah, this you would stop existing and get replaced by a new version of you. But there’s another option,” you explained. “If I go back, it could just start a new timeline. An alternate one. Which means this one would still exist. I’d just be gone from it.”

Ben’s lips twitched, head bobbing. “So either I stop existing, or I’d be here alone forever. That what you’re saying?”

You nodded slowly.

He didn’t love that answer. You happy with some other version of him, while he was stuck in eternal misery, forever missing you. He wasn’t sure if he could do that – give up on you like that. And maybe that was fucking selfish of him. He knew it was.

“You’d save a lot of people. Probably,” you added like you were making a pro and con list. “I ran different scenarios, you know? Like simulations in my head of what could happen. Tried to find the right path that would yield the most benefit.”

Ben cocked an eyebrow. “That what you were doing in the shed?”

“Mostly.” You gave a half-sure nod. “I tried to find out how it works. What theory was true.”

“And?”

You twitched your shoulders. “Inconclusive. Never could figure it out.”

He huffed quietly, shaking his head. “All these theories and you never thought it was a loop?”

A small smile flashed on your lips. “No, I did. It crossed my mind,” you admitted and swallowed. “Was just the one I liked the least. Because it not only meant that I couldn’t change anything but that I was also the cause for everything.”

“And me,” Ben added and met your confused stare. “I sent you back. So I caused it too, right?”

You exhaled musingly. “I guess so. Maybe.”

Ben’s brows drew together. “So who started it? You or me?”

You shrugged again. “I don’t know. My guess is as good as yours.”

“Yeah, but there’s gotta be like… a starting point, right? A first one?” he asked and saw you hold back an amused laugh. “What?”

“It’s a circle,” you said like it would explain everything.

It fucking didn’t.

“Does a circle have a beginning or an end?” you asked in that certain tone of yours he knew all too well – the teacher voice. “The answer you’re looking for is no, by the way.”

“Smartass,” he scoffed, shaking his head. “They didn’t teach all that futuristic shit yet in my school.”

“What, geometry?” You snorted in amused disbelief. “I’m pretty sure they did. You just weren’t paying attention.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He rolled his eyes back. “But there’s gotta be an original version that looked different than all the others, right? Or a version of me that never knew you at all.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Jesus, how much have you been thinking about this?”

“A lot. Yeah,” he admitted and cleared his throat. Smiled even. “So? What’s the working theory, Doc?”

“I don’t know. Probably?”

Ben’s brow wrinkled. “You ever gonna give me an answer tonight that doesn’t sound like it’s comin’ straight outta a Magic 8 Ball?”

You snorted, that little mischievous smirk curling on your lips. “Ask again later.”

“Funny.” He snorted a laugh, but he tried not to be too loud or move too much.

He’d noticed it a while ago – how the tension faded from your muscles, how the smiles kept creeping in. It was like you weren’t even aware you were still supposed to be angry and hurt. You were just doing it subconsciously – talking to him, laughing with him, falling into a pattern with him you’d grown accustomed to over the last few months.

Ben knew better than to point that out and burst it, however. He just enjoyed the bubble. Didn’t want it to end. Didn’t want you to wake up from your trance. Scared you’d realize then that he wasn’t the same guy anymore.

So he said nothing and kept the conversation flowing, hoping you wouldn’t catch on for the rest of both your lives. A man could fucking hope, right?

“Hmm,” he hummed and feigned contemplation. Then he smirked. “So, technically, that means the original timeline could be me being on your little history backstage pass, and you payin’ me a visit, right?”

You snorted. “Unlikely. You were never on that list.”

“Oh, but fuckin’ JFK is on it?”

You laughed loudly at that. “Are you still seriously hung up on that guy? He’s been dead for decades. Most likely because of you.”

“Hey, I had nothin’ to do with that.”

“Legend said you did,” you countered.

“That old prick with that coked-up brain doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talkin’ about,” Ben muttered. “That shit about Normandy wasn’t true either, was it? I mean, you saw, right?”

“Oh, I remember when you made me prove Hughie and I were wrong. Watched you throw a whole-ass tank at like forty Nazis,” you replied wryly.

“Yeah, you’re fuckin’ welcome,” he huffed and only snapped out of his internal rant when he heard your soft giggles.

“How do you even know about my list? I know I never told you about that,” you said then, your brow scrunching into little creases.

“Oh, you sure as hell didn’t, sweetheart.” Ben smirked wide and lazy. “But your so-called friends were real fuckin’ chatty today.”

“Great,” you sighed, then found his eyes. “So what now? Do you want me to go back?”

Ben pursed his lips for a moment. “Can I think about it?” he asked quietly, foot tapping against the concrete below it.

You gave a shrug of your shoulders. “Sure. Time’s not really relevant. Not for us, anyway. Could tell me tomorrow or a hundred years from now. Literally doesn’t matter.”

Ben didn’t respond right away. Just looked at you. “Do you wanna go back?”

He for sure thought you wanted to. He thought there could only ever be one answer, almost rendering the question redundant in the first place. You loved the past version of him. That guy could still give you a future and a life you were worthy of. Why wouldn’t you want that?

But your answer took him by surprise.

“No,” you said and didn’t break his gaze. “I don’t.”

Ben’s brow knitted. “Why?”

“I don’t think there’s a version of us that gets to live the perfect dream life. Where we get everything we ever wanted,” you said. “It’s not how life works. Was just a glitch in the matrix. It was nice while it lasted, though.”

Ben licked his lips, not knowing what he could say to convince you otherwise. “I don’t think that’s true. I think we would’ve been happy,” he said. “I woulda made sure you were.”

You turned your head to look at him. “I was, and you did.”

Ben nodded and bit the insides of his cheeks. “So if you don’t wanna go back, why you offerin’?”

“I ruined your life. Only fair you at least get a say in how I do it this time,” you replied, shrugging.

Ben then met your eyes. “You didn’t ruin shit.”

You lifted an eyebrow in disbelief. “Really? Not even a little?”

He huffed a snort. “Maybe a little,” he teased, smirking. “But kinda ruined me in the best way, sweetheart.”

You didn’t say anything to that, just leaned your head back against the wall and stared at the ceiling fan for a while.

“You know,” you said then, “if I do go back, Russia never happens. You wouldn’t have to go through that.”

Ben’s lips twitched, almost in amusement. Oh, he thought about it, alright. Surely was fuckin’ tempting.

“Yeah? You sure you wouldn’t sell me out to the fuckin’ Commies next time you get pissed at me again?” he blurted out before stopping himself.

You inhaled sharply. “No,” you assured. “And I’m sorry, okay? That was–…”

“A dick move?” Ben supplied with a cocked brow.

You smiled. “Yeah, big time.”

“‘S fine. Deserved it,” he muttered under his breath.

“No, you didn’t,” you insisted with that same fucking softness in your eyes he’d always seen in you. “Which is why I’m sorry.”

There was silence between you again, but it wasn’t heavy and loaded anymore. It was comfortable. Calm. Familiar.

“So what now?” Ben asked then. “What happens if you stay here?”

“What do you mean?” Your brows scrunched again, and he didn’t like that tone in your voice – that finality in it.

“You still love me, or is this the courtesy break-up talk you’re granting me?”

You looked at him but didn’t respond. Just dropped your head back against the wall after a moment and closed your eyes.

“My parents aren’t dead,” your voice broke the silence and made his brows raise.

“I know time doesn’t fuckin’ matter to you, and you can see dead people or whatever, but death still fuckin’ exists.”

“No, I know that,” you said. “They’re not dead. They’re in Alaska.”

His brow shot up. “Alaska? But–”

“I did bring them to 1349, and I did leave them there,” you stated and bit your lip. “For about three years. Then I went back. For them, only five minutes had passed. Still scared the shit out of them.”

“So what? They fled to fuckin’ Alaska?”

“No, I dropped them there and told them not to come back, or I’d leave ‘em in the Middle Ages for good next time,” you shared, pulling your legs up and leaning forward on your knees.

“Recognizin’ a pattern here…”

You huffed a chuckle. “I guess so. But that’s not why I’m telling you this.”

“Why are you telling me?”

You swallowed. “They weren’t all bad, you know? I kept thinking about that. I mean, sure, they were addicts, and they didn’t really want me, but they had these phases… Every once in a while, they tried to get clean, and everything was just suddenly fine.“

Ben could see the tears collecting in your eyes and the lump forming in your throat.

“We’d go on these family trips,” you continued, laughing softly. “Once saw Salem Sue. You know that huge cow in North Dakota? And they’d also pick me up from school and take me for ice cream or pizza or to the mall. Stuff like that. They tried, you know? For a while, they did at least.”

Ben’s heart flared up at the sad smile twitching on your lips, however. His gut churned, like it already knew where the story was headed and what morals would be drawn from it.

“That was the thing, though. It never lasted,” you said. “Sometimes it was a week. Sometimes even a few months. At first, I got really exited. Happy ‘cause I finally had parents who gave a shit, you know? And I figured maybe we could be normal now. But it was always a phase. It wasn’t forever. Eventually, they’d go right back to being the shit parents they were, and I stopped expecting them to change. Stopped being hopeful and excited whenever they had good days because I knew it wouldn’t stay.”

“This isn’t a phase,” he said softly. Kept his eyes on you like it might convince you. “It’s not going anywhere. It’ll stick. I’ll stick.”

“Sure.” You nodded slowly and pressed your lips into a tight line, then gave a weak smile. “Think I haven’t heard it all before? I know all the words in the Book of Addict.”

That cut deep. Trust never came easy to you, and he’d already managed to break it several times.

“I’m not–” Ben didn’t finish. Just looked at you and swallowed around the thick lump in his throat while every cell in his body vibrated. He clenched his fists to stop the tremble in his hands – the constant buzz.

“You’re not, what?”

Ben ground his jaw. “I’ve been clean. I haven’t touched this shit in months.”

“You just made me buy pills and coke two weeks ago,” you said. “Called me at 3AM. Remember?”

“I didn’t take it,” he insisted. “I fuckin’ flushed it, alright? Gave it out as party favors. Just called you to keep you busy. Nothin’ more to it.”

And it was fucking true. Sometime shortly after Vought tower and Homelander, he’d stopped. He hadn’t used for forty years anyway, and he didn’t need the hallucinations of you anymore either because the real you had been right fucking there.

You leaned back against the wall with a sigh – unbothered and unaffected. “If you’re waiting for applause, you’re wasting your time. I’ve learned not to clap till the show’s over.”

He scoffed quietly, nodding. It was no fucking use, was it? Were you ever gonna believe him again?

“Don’t trust me? That’s fine,” he said, jaw aching from how hard he’d been grinding it. “I know you’re fuckin’ disappointed in me. Hell, I am too. But I’ll fuckin’ show you.”

“Guess we’ll see,” you replied, barely audible.

“Didn’t have collateral this entire year, either,” he added like that piece of information would finally convince you. “Not a single asshole died that didn’t deserve it.”

You snorted a laugh. “You’re not serious right now, are you? You woke up in this century with a fucking kill list and unchecked PTSD. You killed like fifty people in the first week.”

“After,” he countered. “After the tower. After you woke up from your fuckin’ coma, I stopped, alright?”

“Yeah, ‘cause everyone on your list was already dead,” you argued.

“Trust me. There’s more,” he rasped.

Stan Edgar. Butcher. Your parents. They were on his fucking hit list now, too. But he knew better than to say it out loud.

“Right.” You clicked your tongue.

“I didn’t explode today if you haven’t fuckin’ noticed. I’ve got it under control,” he argued further. “Even goddamn apologized to MM a year ago. Did he tell you?”

“He did.” You gave a small nod. “Did you actually fucking mean it, though?”

“I did,” he gritted through his teeth. “What d’you wanna hear, hm? I did horrible shit, alright. None of it I can fuckin’ take back. And I fuckin’ paid for all of it. Deserved it, too. But I swear to God I won’t let you fuckin’ down again. I won’t.”

You stayed quiet for a heartbeat, licking your lips, head bobbing. Then you met his eyes. “I think you should go,” you said so fucking soft and gentle like those words didn’t rip his heart straight out of his chest.

“Sweetheart, please.” He hated begging, but for you, he’d be devoutly on his knees for the rest of his goddamn life.

Your fingers curled around the edge of the door, ready to close it, but he stopped it, pushing his hand against the wood to keep it open. His mind, his gut, and his heart screamed at him that it’d never open again once it shut. He couldn’t let that fucking happen.

“Ben…”

You didn’t say his name in anger or annoyance. Your voice was just heavy with a tiredness that seemed to have seeped into your bones.

“Just a little longer? Please?” He stared at you till he saw the tiniest nod and you dropped your hand from the door with a sigh.

“Guess I’m Jeannie today. Just granting wishes left and right,” you muttered.

Ben lifted a brow. “Like I Dream of Jeannie Barbara Eden?” He grinned then. “Man, I loved that show.”

He didn’t mention he fucked Barbara Eden once at the Chateau. Thought it was best to keep that to himself.

“Well, don’t expect me to call you ‘master,’ Captain,” you huffed wryly.

“‘S fine. Eden didn’t do that either,” he muttered under his breath.

Your brow furrowed. “What?”

“Nothin’,” he said quickly, clearing his throat.

You motioned with your chin to the box next to him. “That my stuff?”

Ben followed your gaze, gave half a shrug. “Uh, well, not just your shit. Just stuff from our time together in general. You ain’t gettin’ that projector back.”

You snorted in amusement, then crossed your arms and smirked challengingly. “What kinda stuff did you keep in there?”

He pursed his lips. “Uh, you know, just memorabilia.”

“Like what?”

He scowled, seeing you barely hide the grin at this point.

“If you tell me you kept old movie tickets from our date nights in there, I’m gonna call you a sentimental sap,” you teased.

The frown deepened. “Maybe I just hand ‘em to you separately.”

You stretched your neck slightly to look behind his torso. “What’s in the little box on top?”

“Ah.” A slow smirk curled on his lips. “That’s your little surprise.”

You arched an eyebrow. “You really think bribery’s gonna work?”

Ben took the small, pink box and held it out to you. “Just open it.”

You kept your little glare on him as you took the box before carefully opening the lid and peeking inside it as if he’d hidden poisonous snakes in there. Then your brow furrowed, head tilting in question.

“Cake?”

“Still your birthday for–,” he checked his watch, “–another twelve minutes.”

A frown.

“What d’you think you’re doing? This isn’t Sixteen Candles.”

“Didn’t say it was. Just wanted you to have cake on your birthday,” he said and twitched his shoulders almost innocently.

You inhaled sharply. Bit the inside of your cheeks.

Ha. That one got you.

“If you let me in, I can you show you what’s in that box while you eat cake,” Ben added.

“Let me in, children. Your mother has something for each and every one of you,” you said, your voice high and sweet and filled with bubbles of laughter.

Ben’s brow knitted. “Is that from a Grimm fairy tale?”

“Yup.”

“Huh,” he hummed. “My mother read those to me.”

“I know.”

“Right.” He clicked his tongue. “Forgot I told you that.”

“Yup,” you said again and popped the p. Your gaze, however, wasn’t on him but focused on the tips of your toes. “Moral of the story, though, I let you in, and you’ll eat me.”

Ben bit his lips hard, holding the fucking smirk back. Oh, he’d eat you, alright.

“Don’t,” you warned – cute little glare and all. “The way this has been going so far, I know once you’re inside, you’re never gonna leave, and then I have to leave, and I don’t wanna leave my apartment, so you’re staying out.”

Ben nodded, then smacked his lips. “Convincing.”

You exhaled a long sigh, he blinked, and then suddenly, you were skimming through pages of your notebook in concentration, still in the same spot you used to be like nothing had changed, the box next to him gone and now next to you.

Well, shit. He’d overplayed his fucking hand.

“What’s in there anyway?” he asked. “Never could fuckin’ read it.”

“That’s the point,” you replied without glancing up.

“Looks like fuckin’ hieroglyphs,” he muttered with a scoff.

“It’s a secret language I invented when I was six,” you shared. “I started keeping travel journals after the first few jumps, so I could keep track of everything. The different writing system functions as a fail-safe in case someone steals it or I accidentally leave it somewhere.”

“Huh. And what’s this one say?”

“Uh, it’s some equations, journal entries, memories from the future I wrote down before forgetting, which is why I need this now,” you said, turning pages like you were searching for something specific.

“Anything ‘bout me in there?”

“Everything’s about you in there.”

You still didn’t look up when you said it. Didn’t sound sentimental or even gentle. Just presented it as a fact.

He gestured toward the currently opened page in your lap. “What does this one say?”

“Oh, uhm…” You hesitated, brow knitting like you weren’t sure you cared to share it. “It’s from that day at the lake in May. The one where I pushed you off the dock.”

Ben laughed softly. “Remember that one. Wanna read it to me?”

You looked at him, then let out a breath. Slammed the notebook shut. “No, look, I’m tired. I’ve been awake for over thirty hours and this birthday has lasted close to six months. I’m basically jet-lagged. Can you just get to the point? Why are you here?”

Ben licked his lips and leaned back against the wall. His eyes found yours. “You already know why I’m here. Can’t tell me that you don’t. Just tell me what you want, and I’ll do it.”

“I already told you what I want, and you’re not listening again,” you said, voice sharp as a whip. “Leave me alone. You hovering doesn’t help. I swear to God you’re the worst ex-boyfriend ever. I want time. That’s what I fucking want.”

Ben’s mouth opened and closed, green eyes flickering. The fucking thought alone was making his chest hum alive.

“I don’t want you to disappear again,” he admitted and swallowed around the lump in his throat.

You exhaled a deeply frustrated breath. “I’m not, alright? But only if you go now.”

He looked up the stairs leading to the street and away from you. “For how long? When can I come back?”

“Ben,” you sighed his name and rolled your eyes.

He nodded. Relented.

“Alright, fine.”

He rose from the uncomfortable concrete three minutes past midnight and glanced down at you one final time. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

You got back onto your feet as well, gave a nod, and the door closed.

Sleep was impossible.

No doubt, you were fucking exhausted. Tired in your bones, your blood, your heart, your goddamn soul.

But still – no fucking sleep.

As soon as you closed your eyes, your mind was racing. It wouldn’t shut off. And your heart? That was racing, too. Either from fear, yearning, or fucking both, you weren’t sure.

Ben was gone. Yet, he was still fucking everywhere.

You tossed. You turned. You sighed your frustrations at the ceiling and groaned into pillows. Counted sheep and listed the first one hundred decimals of pi. Still nothing.

It was too quiet or too loud. Too dark or too light. It wasn’t fucking home.

You hadn’t slept in this bed in months. Not really. And now, wrapped in its sterile warmth, blanket pulled up to your shoulder like armor, curled into a ball on the mattress like an Armadillo, you felt even farther from yourself.

Home felt like somewhere else now – in the bed you used to sleep and the guy you used to share it with.

Because not only were you struggling with your feelings, temporal jet-lag, and timelines – you also fucking missed him.

This wasn’t your bed. The spot next to you was empty. And nothing fucking smelled like him anymore.

No arms around you. No steady breathing next to you. Just emptiness – like entropy knocked on your fucking door tonight and invited itself in to stay.

Your muscles remembered another rhythm. Another routine. Another weight.

For five months, there’d been someone next to you. Someone you loved so much it fucking hurt. Now they were gone.

The worst, though? You thought you’d never get him back. Thought there was nothing left to rebuild. But after tonight, you weren’t quite so sure anymore. Tonight felt easy. Comfortable. Familiar.

It felt as if he was still there. Still him. Scraps of him buried under inches of shit, sure, but still.

You saw the flickers of light through the thicket. Saw not the supe, but Ben.

Twenty-three. Dumb as hell. Soft in the rarest places. Calloused hands that knew how to touch without hurting. A man who tucked you into his side like you were something worth keeping warm. A man who laughed in his sleep and sometimes pulled you closer without waking.

That was the rhythm you knew now. And without it, your own heartbeat felt wrong.

You shifted onto your back. Then your other side. Kicked the blanket off. Pulled it back on. Flipped the pillow. Nothing fucking helped.

He said he loved you. Then he said you were a liar.

He kept your things for eight decades. Then he pushed you away for a whole year.

And despite all the nightmares and the differences and all the cruel things he’d ever done or said, you still fucking loved him. God, that was the worst part.

You loved him. And Ben? He broke you open anyway.

Then it fucking hit – the first sob that clawed through your body like it had built since January of ’42.

The kind that crawled up your throat without warning. Ugly. Choking. Whole body shaking.

You curled into yourself, and it kept coming. Louder now. Guttural. The kind of crying that wracked your chest and made your teeth ache.

Everything fucking spilled out – the grief, the time, the loneliness, the betrayal.

You weren’t just mourning what he did.

You were mourning everything you thought you’d found in 1942 – all the people, the places, the versions of you that felt brighter and stronger and freer. You were mourning a life you couldn’t go back to. A home you’d built with hope and love, only to have it dissolve in a single blink of an eye.

You sobbed until you hiccupped.

Until the pillow was soaked beneath your cheek.

Until the silence swallowed you up again.

Until the knock came.

It wasn’t loud. Not like before. Three slow taps, almost reluctant – like he was giving you time to pretend you didn’t hear them.

Your breath hitched again. Your eyes, already raw, squeezed shut tighter. Like that might somehow undo the sound and make him disappear again.

Then came his voice – low and unsure in the night. “Can I come in?”

You stayed silent.

“Didn’t go far,” he admitted. “I heard you. Just wanted to check on you. Didn’t think you wanted me here. Still don’t, probably. But I’m askin’ anyway.”

You wanted to say something – to yell, to scream, to beg him to go or stay or hold you tighter – but your mouth wouldn’t work, and your chest was a collapsed building like a nuclear bomb had torn through it.

The words formed on your tongue, but your lips didn’t move.

“I’m gonna open the door now,” he gave you a warning shot. “If you don’t want me to, say somethin’. Don’t fuckin’ disappear on me, alright?”

You didn’t, and the door creaked open.

He stepped in slowly, boot steps soft for once. The smell of city air followed him in – summer heat and burning asphalt and different flavors of cuisine.

The couch beneath you dipped. The mattress creaked beneath his weight with carefulness. He didn’t reach for you right away. He sat still for a moment – like he was giving you one final out.

He always did.

And when there was no resistance, the warmth of his arm ghosted around your waist. Slow. Hesitant. Tentative. Like he expected you to pull away. Like he was afraid touching you might set the whole world off again.

You still didn’t stop him. You never did.

His chest then pressed lightly to your back. His hand settled just beneath your ribs – warm, solid, steady.

Fucking perfect.

“Hey, it’s me,” he whispered close to your ear, breath hot against your skin. “I’m still fuckin’ here.”

That was it – the fucking dam broke again.

You curled inward, sobbing so hard it felt like your lungs were trying to escape your body. Everything you’d buried – the grief, the fear, the ache of missing him – unraveled like a thread pulled too tight for too long, the seams of your heart giving way all at once.

Fury. Loneliness. Need – and somewhere in it, a kind of gut-deep relief that made your ribs hurt.

And Ben? He held you through it. He always did.

Didn’t say anything more. Didn’t try to fix it. Just anchored you with his body, impossibly strong and steady and safe behind you, grounding you to something fucking real in a world that was absurd.

He was gravity, and you were in free fall.

You pressed your forehead into your pillow and cried until there was nothing left but the sound of your own ragged breath. Ben’s nose buried in your hair, lips kissed your crown, arms wrapped around you tighter.

Eventually, your breath began to slow. Evened out into lazy waves.

You turned then in the arms around you – slow, cautious, unsure of what you were doing until your face found his chest, your palms flattened gently against him. Your body still slightly trembled like the aftershocks of an earthquake, but his warmth seeped through your skin and soothed it like a balm.

You looked up, and his eyes found yours instantly – quiet, wrecked, waiting. You searched his face like you were ensuring each freckle was still in place. He looked as tired as you felt, and he wasn’t armored now.

No sneer. No shield. Nothing cruel or smug or sure. Just him – the same guy who whispered dumb jokes in the dark to make you laugh and who let you fall asleep against his chest like he’d never let go.

Just Ben.

His hand lifted and brushed a tear from your soaked cheek. Then another. And another. His thumb lingered at your jawline, rough and gentle all at once.

His forehead touched yours, and you exhaled a soft, shaking breath. He tilted his head just slightly. Not pushing. Not rushing. Just waiting.

And you kissed him.

Soft.

Slow.

Salt still on your lips.

▶️ Chapter 17: The Stuff That Dreams Are Made of – JULY 20

A lot of you asked me "Omg, how are they ever gonna get back together after all of this and that brutal fight? Something big needs to happen." But I always felt like what they needed the most was a quiet night and no armor (or only little lol). Did you expect to end it there?

And for you angsty souls out there – don't worry. Something big's still coming that will either solidify their bond more or break it altogether 😉

Coming Up:

“You want me to leave?”

Your gaze drifted to the door, then back to him. You shook your head. “Actually, I was thinking about taking a drive.”

Ben lifted a brow in surprise. “Like a joyride?”

You scoffed a chuckle. “Trust me. There won’t be any joy.”

“Even better.” He smirked and watched you roll your eyes back.

“It’s a memory thing,” you shared and grabbed your nonsensical notebook from the nightstand. “Just have to check some things I wrote in here. See if it jogs anything.”

Ben bobbed his head, gave you a smirk – just a flicker of it. “You want company?”

You didn’t smile, but your voice came softer this time. “If you can behave.”

He chuckled low in his chest. “No promises, sweetheart.”

🚀 Read up to 4 chapters ahead on Patreon now

Tag List Pt. 1:

@alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@lori19 @lacilou @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444 @syrma-sensei

@perpetualabsurdity @yoobusgoobus @jessjad @dayhsdreaming @hunter-or-the-hunted

@k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways @muhahaha303

@ultimatecin73 @nancymcl @leigh70 @brightlilith @nesnejwritings

@samslvrgirl @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @fromcaintodean @barewithme02 @impala67rollingthroughtown

@star-yawnznn @spnaquakindgdom @thej2report @americanvenom13 @lamentationsofalonelypotato

@supernotnatural2005 @stoneyggirl2 @kr804573 @m0e0v0v @youroldfashioned

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

please tell us your bigger than the whole sky / would've could've should've Thots

oh no, you're gonna get me started on two of my favourite songs and I won't be able to stop 😂 This has turned into a very rambly stream of consciousness post, my apologies. The TL;DR is that to me, they're fascinating explorations of the ways in which faith (and I don't necessarily mean religious) can guide us or lead us astray, buoy us or cast us adrift.

I know there are all kinds of interpretations of the songs and their place on Midnights and in Taylor's discography. I've touched on this before, but one thing that has struck me about Midnights is that it's an album about loss and depression and questioning in the aftermath, and so many songs on there feel like "what ifs": moments in time where it seems like everything changed from that point forward. (That's a real fucking legacy to leave, indeed.)

I've written about it elsewhere on this blog, but something that connects both songs to me is how they deal with faith, as I said at the outset. Specifically, WCS is the point at which she believes she/the narrator loses her faith due to what happened to her, and BTTWS delves into how unmoored in the wake of another loss when she/the narrator feels in a world where she no longer has the faith she once held. It's, I could have gone along with the righteous to I'll say words I don't believe.

I know the wording sounds similar between the two songs, but they aren't exactly the same, and to me their intent is completely different, though equally marking. @taylortruther even answered an ask about this a while back. As she put it in the post:

what i like about it is that would've could've should've is a pretty glib phrase, in my experience, and sometimes shaming. like, don't dwell on it, you could've done things differently, but you can't change it now. and these are two songs about dwelling and not being able to move on from something that changed her (or the narrator).

In WCS, it's like a call and response in her head: if you would've, I would've. You could've, and I'd never. "Would've, could've, should've" in the pre-chorus is like she's chastising herself, as in, I should've have known better, except by the end we know: no, she couldn't have known better, because he should've, and did. (Don't you think I was too young? You should've known.) It's angry and pained.

In BTTWS, the order's a little different (What could've been, would've been, should've been you.) To me, the context is completely different in that it's not recrimination like in WCS: it's a sad, pining daydream about someone/something that never came to exist or no longer exists. Whereas in WCS the words are her not only beating herself up with regret, but reading the person who harmed her for filth, in BTTWS it's a tender elegy for an entity that left her before its time.

One of the most interesting similarities between the two songs, to me, is that they both deal with the fallout of an event outside the narrator's control, with some omniscient figure pulling the strings instead, and the narrator's reaction to each of them is a markedly different stage of processing or grief.

In WCS, she's grappling with the guilt that this is something she thought she wanted, only to realize much later on that someone else was making these choices for her. The Devil should have blinked, he should have spat her out, he shouldn't have touched her first, he shouldn't have put her on a pedestal only to bury her in the ground. He was the one with the power in the situation, and he did something to her (or, in her words, took something from her) that left her filled with regret and shame. She believed she wanted this, but only now does she know she should never have been put in the position where it was even an option.

In BTTWS, the narrator is grappling with something being taken from her that was beloved and is now sorely missed. The guilt in this case is her wondering if there were anything she could have done to prevent whatever happened that led to its loss. If she'd stayed on her knees, as it were, would the outcome have changed? (Which is an interesting contrast to WCS: WCS implies that she was part of the righteous-- until the events in the song, which made her fall from grace. Here, she doesn't consider her righteousness until the thing is gone away. Kind of like bookends thematically, in a sense.) Is her lack of faith or piety the reason this happened? Or is it because of a cascading series of random events she doesn't even know about that ultimately led to this? To me, it's like, in WCS, she knows exactly why it happened (even if she doesn't know why he did it), but in BTTWS, she has absolutely no idea what led her here, which is part of why she can't find the words for it.

It's interesting, because even in WCS there's an admission that part of her thought she wanted this: The god's honest truth is that the pain was heaven. If you never saved me from boredom, I could've gone on as I was. Hence the regret that she fell into temptation (lol sorry can't help it-- the Catholic guilt is strong in this one) and was led so astray-- I miss who I used to be. In BTTWS, esoteric ~you~ is something that is unquestionably very much wanted-- I've got a lot to pine about, I've got a lot to live without, I'm never gonna meet what [...] should've been you-- and the guilt stems from feeling like she there could have been something to keep ~them~ here. The loss of what could've, would've, should've been this ~thing~ leaves a hole in her and her future. The narrator is haunted by what happened to her in WCS, but in BTTWS, she's haunted by what didn't happen, in a sense.

If Midnights in an album, as the fandom popularly theorizes, about looking into your past to try to understand your present and protect your future, those two songs are clear examples of ruminating over a specific event (either recent or long ago) and wondering if there were any way to prevent the pain and loss in the current moment.

This is probably far more than you ever bargained for for an answer, and as you can tell I could wax poetic about this for ages. I think WCS is one of the cornerstones of her discography, because it is such a raw depiction of trauma and its aftermath, and I think fills in the lines of so much (certainly between Speak Now and TTPD). And I think BTTWS is actually vital to understanding both Midnights and TTPD, like it's a bridge between the two albums, because it is the starkest depiction of grief and depression. The "every single thing I touch becomes sick with sadness" is the same kind of mindset that leads to writing so much of Midnights, and mood-wise it's a direct pipeline to Fortnight which then sets the scene for the rest of the album.

If you're interested, I wrote a long-ass post diving into the 3am tracks (before we knew that TTPD even existed lol) and wrote quite a bit about WCS and BTTWS there too. And my song tags (particularly the bttws ones) probably have more stuff in there too!

[art-i-know-yes]

Me never posting but the new life series came out. Literally took a day (and some) bc I get insane. ANYWAY

PAST LIFE SPOILERS:

GRIAN:

tweaking EVO CONCEPT????

i see some old skiiiiiiins

amazing team up grian i love this energy

gang the autism is peaking

is gem gem sick?? I'm watching this on different days so

she got crazy disadvantage

the s h r e k

EYYYYY GHOST ADVANTAGE

"hahaha but fr we are in major danger"

also i love a long video but my damaged attention span does not

hm. sulfur.

"house"

TANGOOOO and IMPPYY

casual farming and talk

and them judging Grian

damn that would fuck me up

Pringle tube

that gravel looks horrendous

lovely. they're villains

OOOO CLEO AND MARTYN

"im going to internalize this" "DON'T INSULT HER"

BIGB WHAT ARE YOU DOING

gaslighting

"we're going to be the Villains!" "can you guys do this with me?? omo"

aaaand Martyn's the first death!!

AAAAND THERE GOES GRIAN

we need to workshop this group

literally begging for help

"i can't believe nobody's died"

hiii bbubs hiii scar

they're so fucking stupid

where is his team

no shit babe

"we got a diamond!" "a diamond?" youuuu have 5 lives, lock in

Fishing comes full circle (i haven't finished watching hermitcraft)

OMG THAT FISH

"is he angy?🥺" i love you, you stupid grown man

they're so sad about being the villains

ohhhh dangerous build

the villys!!!!!????

"He might be angry" "What do you mean you're not sure???"

"i should apologize" "no??" "ill tell him he deserved it" "don't make it worse??"

they should be the angel and demon on the shoulder with the way they're arguing

"they don't even look like you!"

he's overcompensating so much

hiiii skizz

skizz needing to get his niceness out bc he's gonna be a jerk. love the silly man

JIMMY THERE YOU GO

is skizz joining them??

evil evil cackles

the good ol "glitches"

"green on green! you can't do anything!" "ive already broken it" "😬"

no but it's the principle

they just feel bad

scott calling him out from afar

scar coming over like "JUST HAD TO MAKE SURE"

6th season call back

"He's not mad at you!" "...where is he?"

martyn is for the lols

HAHAHA

trying to rationalize anything

they're so brother coded (me inflicting my headcanons)

...we're they just listening??

Grian is so easy to entertain

for Mumbo (i love how obsessed they are with each other)

he's trying

im begging him to be careful i do not trust him

DID HE CALL HIM???

im begging Mumbo to call him back within the episode

THAT WORKED???

poor builder is tired of mining

"iiiii don't think im coming up there"

immediately sobbing

stop gambling

down boy damn

ETHO?????

pearl having to comfort him is so funny

gem is calling out to them

stop talking and stop going reckless

they're going crazy what happened to all of them

they need to sleep

i can't wait to see how these bases translates

i do not trust them to stay alive for the remaining 8 minutes

so slow

the girls want a garden

why is Martyn crying

etho and bbubs

ooooooof course it was scar

the infighting goes crazy

you can be evil AND beautiful

hiiii ren good base

very team rocket coded

THANK YOU DEV TEAM

WHY ARE ALL THE VIDEOS SO LOOOOONG!!! I'll watch the others I usually watch but im only typing out one reaction to stay on time unlike the last like two seasons... ANYWAY this week is grian unless i decide to do the others

[elverrie]

listening to "under your spell" cause amber benson`s voice is so melodious, beautiful and whimsical like tiny little crystal bells, and it lures you into the mysterious forest. and you will go after it because this wonderful fae princess is calling for you. and then it hits you... that she IS under her spell FUCK-

[ovaryacted]

Been crying for almost two hours just…mourning a future I won’t get. I keep saying that I’ve had breakdowns and nightmares before because of what’s happening in the country and how it affects me personally, but I think now after the recent bill passed, I am at my limit. I mean, I have to decide if I think it’s worth it to apply for law school in the U.S. and it’s so ironic to even think about applying to law school as if these people care about the rule of law and morality and aren’t trying to ethnically cleanse the entire “undocumented” (really Latino & non-white) population here so who even knows if I’ll make it that far, who knows if any of us will at this rate because it’s all a eugenics project. Not to mention, the process to get into these fucking schools is hard, it’s so fucking expensive even if it’s just 3 years, the entry exam I’m supposed to be studying for is so fucking difficult and complex and I’m not scoring well on the practice exams…and it’ll only get harder because they just want white supremacists to be educated and powerful.

There’s literally nothing I can do about this and nothing will change this so at this rate, I’m just about to give up on studying and my future ambitions cause what’s the point anymore if I’ll be in so much fucking debt I won’t be able to pay it off, and law school isn’t a guarantee anyway. I just want to fly somewhere else and make tumblr my full time job while it still exists but we know that’s not feasible because there’s no escaping what’s coming. Oh well, what’s meant to be will be right?

[gemmafuckingscout]

my sister told me her theory that gemma was pregnant at the time she was kidnapped and that her baby was raised in the crib that she dismantled and honestly i can't say that it would be impossible...

like how insidious would it be if lumon created an innie specific for her to carry this baby to term? can you imagine driving to a friend's place for a game night, and waking up 8 months later to find stretch marks and no explanation of how they got there? how YOU got there?

i know she probably would've put 2 and 2 together and we would've seen her ask to see her baby in 2x07 but my god. this is exactly the kind of thing that lumon would do.

[luna-the-cretar]

One thing I just realized about the couple of times Lethica has willingly taken off her mask or showed her face (not including the time Marius took it off to save her), it was always a very intimate scene

Like during the ritual where we see everyone’s backstories. The first thing Lethica did was take off her mask.

Or the porch scene. Even though it was her duplicate, Derek made a note of Lethica not wearing her mask during the conversation with Marius, where she appears to be making the choice to trust him, despite the danger. And while, no, it wasn’t actually Lethica, it still looks like her. And she didn’t technically have to have her duplicate’s mask off, since it’s had her mask on before (like during the second hag fight after Lethica was revived), yet she did.

Or how about her scene in Metamorphosis? Lethica immediately takes the mask off before performing the ritual (and I’m sure if we’ve had more opportunities for notable individual scenes during long rests, we probably would’ve seen this consistency as well, since she doesn’t sleep with the mask on considering the moment where the party couldn’t find their stuff and Lethica immediately covered her face with her hair)

Idk. Just something I’ve noticed

[evilkaeya]

finished reading no home. I don't think I'll ever be the same person every again.

[hawkeshep]

kinda sucks that I couldn’t play datv long enough to see the solavellan reunion but oh well

[danikatze]

[ID in alt text]

Another wip! It's kind of almost done :)

[uncanny-tranny]

I think it's only natural to feel anger when somebody isn't "taking your advice" or listening to you about their mental health or what will help them. People want to help people, and the anger comes when you are perceiving somebody as not being receptive but...

It can be a selfish impulse to say that your opinion about their illness is the only thing they need. It isn't about you, even though the advice you give is given by you.

Nobody deserves to suffer, this is true. But, also, nobody deserves to be forced to do things that either won't help or won't be genuine. If somebody isn't taking your advice, there's a reason for it (maybe it's not a good enough reason for you, but this isn't the point). It's okay to be disappointed or angry, but it's not going to help to lash out at them. That is only pouring water onto a grease fire.

[dirtbra1n]

have a fuckton of dishes to do can I be vulnerable and honest. prevalence of homophobic hanzawa makes me saaaad. Okay that’s all

[secondstar-acorn]

can I have a hug?

from who?

[the-butch-of-blaviken]

.

[crowgore-throwaway]

Help I'm now hyperfixating on Mouthwashing

Here's what I wrote about it in my journal :P

[Spoilers for the entire story of Mouthwashing]

I think I could be developing a hyperfixation for Mouthwashing. I adore the themes, how it isn't cosmic or alien-based horror, despite taking place in space, but a story of human faults and evils. Jimmy's evil, acting out of greed and narcissism, feeling guilt but not taking accountability. The evil of corporations and capitalism, making 5 working-class people spend over a year traveling through space, just to deliver some mouthwash and subsequently laying them off, leaving the likes of Anya and (I say this reluctantly) Jimmy with no means to support themselves. All that time going stir-crazy, not even for anything important, just so some consumers can have their mouthwash. And Curly's evil, enabling Jimmy by being complicit, not taking Anya's issues seriously because Jimmy's *such* a good guy and Curly doesn't want to upset him. And that unconditional trust leads to him being completely unable to move or speak because he essentially allowed Jimmy to do whatever he wanted and have his little tantrum, putting the crew at risk to just to avoid a problem *he* caused.

Ugh, amazing game. I think it's more sad than scary. All those people dead- Daisuke, a kid in his late teens with so much life and opportunity ahead of him, dead because Jimmy took advantage of his positivity and need to do right by everyone.

Anya, violated and belittled, forced to follow the orders of the man who assaulted and impregnated her. She did whatever she could to protect herself while Curly, the leader she was meant to trust, did nothing. Until she could endure it anymore and took her own life. (I also saw a theory that she was attempting an abortion but overdosed) Jimmy doesn't even acknowledge her death, even with how terribly he hurt her. He just doesn't care about her, he doesn't see her as a person, but a tool.

Swansea, a father and husband. A man with faults, sure, but a man who can take responsibility for them. He owns his flaws and misdeeds and grows from them. Though he's broken and struggles with addiction, he's selfless. He's hopeful for characters like Daisuke and Anya, is a gruff mentor and trustworthy ally who heard Anya out. Jimmy couldn't stand to look Swansea in the face because he was a lot like Jimmy, except he actually took responsibility for the bad things he's done. So he killed him.

And finally, Curly, his friend, the man who believed he could be better, who trusted him, gave him chance after chance, until he was destroyed. Curly was too trusting, and Jimmy took full advantage. In the end, though, Jimmy couldn't stop piling his shit on Curly's shoulders, ultimately killing himself and cryogenically freezing Curly, leaving him the sole survivor in the event that the Tulpar is recovered. Which would mean, in the end, Curly would be the one still mopping up Jimmy's mess.

Seriously, play this shit its wonderful, and the art style is neat. Also, Daisuke is my favorite, I may have written about him the least, but he's such a ray of sunshine.