#still just as true now and I'm still mad so I figured I might as well post it

[5ummit]

Stucky used to be my comfort ship.

I used to think Steve and Bucky cared for each other so deeply and tragically that their love – even if only viewed as platonic – could not be denied by anyone. Not after Steve spent THREE whole movies, the entire Cap trilogy, proving how much Bucky meant to him over and over and over. Steve was willing to fight for him and die for him in every single movie. I used to think that even if Marvel gave Steve another love interest, even if he died in Endgame, it wouldn’t change or negate how devoted they were to each other. That they would still be friends “til the end of the line.”

Little did I know what awaited me in Endgame was a fate worse than death.

Steve left and in doing so rewrote everything we thought we knew about him and his relationship with Bucky. About who Steve is as a character entirely. It wasn’t just that he abandoned his supposed best friend, who he had been chasing and obsessing over for years. Who was there for him and looked after him ever since they were children. If Steve had left the Bucky he used to know in the 1940s for some love interest and a life without him, it would still be pretty out of character, but I would eventually get over it. 1940s!Bucky was confident, happy, and had family and friends who cared about him. Endgame!Bucky is not that Bucky.

Endgame!Bucky is broken and lost and just now learning how to be a person again. Endgame!Bucky has no friends and no family. Endgame!Bucky just spent the last 70 years of his life going from one fight to another, being brainwashed and tortured and manipulated and abused. Endgame!Bucky is clinging by a thread to the one and only thing he knows and values in this world: Steve.

This is the Bucky that Steve chose to leave.

If Steve was any kind of friend at all – if Steve was truly a hero and the morally upstanding person he’s portrayed as, a person worthy of wielding Mjolnir – he would know these things about Bucky, his best friend since childhood, and at the very least, would refuse to leave his side until Bucky had some sort of support network and seemed well-adjusted enough to handle it. But he doesn’t. Even in their farewell scene when Bucky (looking like a kicked puppy) says to him “I’m gonna miss you” Steve won’t even echo the sentiment. He just says “it’s gonna be okay,” as if he’s aware of the pain Bucky must be in and essentially tells him, “don’t worry, you’ll get over it.” And I’m not even going to get into the terrible way Steve treated his other best friend, Sam, by keeping him completely in the dark about his plans for absolutely no reason and abandoning him as well.

Marvel didn’t just make Steve act out of character in Endgame in an effort to no-homo him and create a ~surprise twist~. They didn’t just make him a bit selfish and a bad friend. They straight up made him a villain, and I will never ever forgive them for it.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

When They Accidentally Bring Up an Insecurity| Jisung

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

You had always admired Han's loving spirit and his ability to find inspiration in the smallest things. He brought light into your life in ways you never thought possible. And he helped you see the world in a way most didn't. You loved that you had that in common with Han- an appreciation for things that breathed life into your creative works.

You had never been very good at drawing. Or writing. Or anything having to do with the fine arts. Rather your creativity came more in a problem solving way. But in order to connect with Jisung, you decided to take up sketching to connect with Han a little more, because you loved him.

But that just created a deep-rooted insecurity about your creative abilities. Surrounded by so many talented people - as you were around the kids -you often felt your own contributions paled in comparison, and it was a fear you kept to yourself.

One evening, Han was over at your place, working on some new lyrics while you attempted to write poetry. He was sprawled on the couch, notebook in hand, humming a melody under his breath. You sat at your desk, scribbling down words and then erasing them feeling increasingly frustrated with your lack of progress.

You had long given up drawing, and you thought it might be easier to write a poem, since it was words that described your feelings. You could easily write a poem about something you knew well right? It couldn't be that hard.

You scratched your head as you tried to think of rhymes.

"How's it going over there?" Han asked, glancing up from his notebook.

"Not great," you mumbled, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice.

Han chuckled, not noticing your tone. "I figured."

His casual comment felt like a sting, a reminder of your perceived inadequacies. You forced a smile and nodded, but inside, you felt your confidence crumbling.

He got up and walked over to you, picking up your paper in his hands. He chuckled. "Poetry now huh?"

You felt your cheeks burn and tried to take it from him. "No-"

"No jagiya I want to read it." He said holding it above your head and reading it. "You make me laugh when I am sad, Your jokes are the best I've ever had. When you smile, my heart feels light, You make everything so bright." Han giggled again. "It's like one of those poems we had to write in elementary school."

That made your cheeks burn even more. "Jisung give it back-"

"Your hugs are warm, your eyes so kind, With you, I leave my worries behind. You're my sunshine, my best friend, With you, I hope the good times never end." He gives you a cute pouty face in a teasing manner. "Awww Y/N... it's such a cute little poem. It's like a little nursery rhyme."

"Jisung stop!" You called out again, feeling your eyes burn as you put your fists to your eyes, the embarrassment you had taking over.

"I know my poem's not that great, But loving you is my favorite fate. Thank you Jisung..." His smile fell and he swallowed. "Thank you...Jisung for...for being you. My love for you is always true." He looked up and seemed to realize what he was teasing you about and his lip trembled. "Y/N-"

"I want to be alone." You mumbled through your tears. Jisung wanted to reach out, but he knew he had hurt your feelings, but knowing you he also knew you needed space.

The next few days were a blur of self-doubt and creative blocks. You avoided drawing and writing, and found excuses to stay busy with other tasks. Han noticed your change in behavior and even if you guys had talked a couple hours after the incident, he still didn't think his apology was enough.

One afternoon, while you were both working on a puzzle together, Han brought up the subject again. "Hey, you know I'm really really sorry right?"

You nodded. "I know. I'm not mad anymore, Jisung."

Han frowned. "But you haven't been writing at all. Or drawing...I feel like it's my fault. No...I know it's my fault. I'm sorry I made fun of your poem- I loved it. I really did. It's the sweetest thing anyone has ever written me..."

You felt a pang in your chest, wishing you could believe him. "Thanks, but sometimes it feels like I'm just not good enough."

Han looked taken aback. "What do you mean? You're incredibly talented."

You sighed, finally letting out a bit of your frustration. "It's just… I see how talented everyone else is, including you, and I can't help but feel like my work doesn't measure up."

Han's expression softened, and he reached out to squeeze your hand. "You're amazing in your own right, and comparing yourself to others isn't fair to you. I wouldn't ever want you to compare yourself to me. That's like comparing a doctor to an actor. Both are genius in their own right, but do you expect an actor to be able to perform surgery like a doctor? Or the doctor to recite the entire second act of Hamlet? You have your talents that I could never even begin to measure up to, Y/N. Its the same with everyone who walks this planet..."

His words were kind, but they didn't fully reach the core of your insecurity. You forced a smile and nodded, hoping the conversation would end there.

A week later, Han invited himself over to your house, hoping to put an end to both of your guy's misery. You hated feeling like you had to walk on eggshells around him, and he hated thinking he was making you uncomfortable.

You guys ate dinner and started watching a drama. After the fourth episode Han pressed the pause button.

"Baby...can I show you something?"

You nodded, slightly confused as to why Jisung would pause your binge.

He grabbed his laptop from his bag and came back towards you, placing his headphones on your head.

He unlocked his laptop, clicked a few buttons and a soft melody filled your ears. Your eyes widened.

"Did you guys wrtie a new song?" You asked excitedly, but Jisung shushed you gently and motioned for you to listen.

You closed your eyes and let yourself go, embracing the music fully.

You felt your heart almost stop when you heard the words of your poem masterfully intricated into the song.

"Why did you show me that?" you asked, your voice trembling. You didn't dare open your eyes, or you were sure the tears you had would fall.

Han sounded puzzled. "Because it's great and I wanted to share it."

"But it's not great," you snapped, tears falling from your eyes as you opened them. "People will know you just used those words. You're so much more well versed and-"

Han stopped in his tracks, realization dawning on him. "I didn't mean to make you feel that way. I just wanted to show them how talented you are.” You shook your head.

"Ouch, Y/N..." Jisung chuckled, his voice breaking a little. You looked at Han, whose chubby cheeks were encompassed by his pout. His boba eyes sad.

"No- No baby I meant... I feel like my words are stupid. Not your voice. Your song was absolutely beautiful... I just feel like I made you waste such a good backtrack."

You wiped away a tear, feeling exposed and vulnerable. "It's not your fault. It's just… I can't help but feel like I'll never be as good as everyone else. And I feel like you did that to make me feel better..."

Han pulled you into a tight hug, his voice gentle and soothing. "I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. You're incredibly talented and creative, and your art is a reflection of who you are. It's unique and beautiful, just like you."

You clung to him, the sincerity in his words slowly breaking through your walls. "I just want to feel like I'm enough," you whispered.

Han held you at arm's length, looking into your eyes. "You are more than enough. Your worth isn't defined by how perfect your art or writing is or how you compare to others. It's about the passion and love you put into what you do."

His words resonated with you, and you felt a sense of comfort and reassurance. Han's unwavering support and belief in you made a difference, and you realized that your insecurities didn't define you.

"And I didn't make that song to make you feel better...I made it so you could see just how much inspiration I find from you. Y/N I love you more than anything. So, I was over the moon when I wrote this. And even more elated when I got to use the words the love of my life wrote. That's only the demo..." He grins sheepishly. "I was thinking...it would sound cool if you could leave that poem as a voicemail. I could make it the outro of the song..."

You looked at him with wide eyes. "You mean it?"

"Of course I mean it baby. I mean... I know Stay speculates I'm in a relationship...it's been a year now so I feel like this would be a fun way of confirming that. And I want the world to hear the beautiful voice of my baby." He coos, squishing your cheeks.

You giggle and nod, as Han peppers kisses all over your face.

One evening, as you both sat on the couch, Han handed you a sketchbook he had bought for you. "I got this for you. I want you to fill it with whatever makes you happy. No pressure, just pure creativity. It doesn't even have to be art. Maybe you could write me more poems..."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Thank you, Ji. For everything."

Han wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close. "I'm always here for you. And for inspiration. Because you're my inspiration." He says nuzzling his nose against yours.

You leaned into him, feeling a sense of peace and contentment.

His inspiration. You thought.

What an amazing thing to be...

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel

[frankieunscripted]

My reasons to hate Drake

First things first, I'm the reales- wait, wrong theme. First of all, I would like to say this is NOT an unbiased recap, this is literally just me listing things I've hated about Drake for years. You might as well join in on the hate train. Go watch some YouTube video essays on this if you wanna know more!!! You'll find plentyyyy

Certified Pedophile ("allegedly"): Texting teen girls until they're of age and then go and date them. ew.

Cosplay Gangsta: disrespecting the culture as a whole, but especially what hiphop is about. Flexing money, cars, girls, drugs, clothes bc he never understood hiphop was never about flexing, but about being heard bc you're oppressed, about revolution. Now we got his die-hard fans running around acting like this is true rap. no. "You don't know nun bout dat!"

Culture Vulture: jumping from trend to trend in order to make it "his own", faking accents that he has no business playing with and dropping them as soon as he's done with this specific type of genre bc it's not trendy anymore. Adapting whole "personas" around this, instead of just merely collabing with other artists. Jamaican and African accents are just 2 examples here.

Blackness: Drake never really got out of his acting career. Back on DeGrassi he was acting as a high school jock. Now he's acting like a tough black guy who's from the streets and knows what it's like to be down bad, when this was never his life. Lil Wayne warned him to never change and act tough just bc he would sign to Weezy's label where the rappers were predominantly "gangsta type dudes". And what did Drizzy do? He's acting all tough and "outta dem streets". He's clearly overcompensating for not feeling black enough (I've already reblogged 2 posts about this, pls see these for further context). Drake's mad for not being referred to as a rapper who speaks on being black, when in reality the black experience was never of topic in any of his songs. He also doesn't give back to the community.

Lil Wayne: Drake had relations with fellow rapper Lil Wayne's gf (she actually was of age, ayoooo!) while Wayne was away in prison. Wayne got word of the fact his gf was cheating on him with the young guy he signed under his label and was pissed. Drake, in an effort to smooth out the situation, got Wayne's face tattooed on his arm. Say what you will about portrait tattoos, but this story is just so fucking typical Drake. How the fuck do you think this is gonna help anyone?

Validation: Drake donates money in the music video for God's Plan, only to earn more money with that video/song than he donated in the first place. He felt good about donating and then never did that shit again.

Numbers: As a great man once said: "Crack fiends bought 10 million rocks, that don't mean it's good. It don't mean nothing." (As you can imagine, that man was 2Pac). And with that I say that proving your worth in the industry by numbers don't mean a lot. It means you and your team figured out the market and started producing stupid, vapid, but terribly long albums to maximize streaming numbers, automatically bumping up your place in the industry. This is about quantity, not quality - good rap/ hiphop was never about that. Drake actively validates his music and status with his fame, money and streams and neither him nor his fans seem to get that says nothing about the artistic value of his music. "Numbers lie too, fuck your pride, too!" (I mean really, Baby Shark has 14 Billion views on YouTube - you think that's REAL artistry, Mister Aubrey?)

Cocky Ass Bitch: I would be okay with a lot of his music if Drake just knew his fucking place. He went pop ages ago, but still people (including himself) refer to him as a rapper - no even, as THE rapper, placing him in the Top 3. Sometimes I feel like y'all do this, just to piss me off personally. Apart from everything else wrong with Drake, there's nothing wrong with liking music like his persé. Not everyone likes conscious/ deep stuff and sometimes, when you with the homies, you just wanna chill and listen to something "mindless" - MIND you, I'm not looking down on "non-conscious" rap, I'm just saying not every artist has to be woke/ deep all the time and some "empty" party anthem about girls, fashion, cars and alcoholism is fun at times. These party anthems deserve their place. And a child actor turned rapper turned POP STAR is valid in my books - just not if it's Drake. Apropos cockiness: The dude compares himself multiple times to Michael Jackson and while that got a few good lines out of him, I believe it's close to fucking blasphemy. Drake and MJ on the same pedastal. I mean sure, questionable stuff happening with kids, both of them wildly successful in their industry (mind you, streaming like today wasn't around back then and many of the numbers cannot be compared), but one of them a real talent and the other one some guy who more or less made it as an industry plant. "I can dance like Michael Jackson? / I'd argue your skills really lack, son!" (okay sorry, I know, that was corny as fuck xD) Dude is flexing with numbers instead of poetic abilities -

About the art itself:

Ghostwriters: "What poetic abilities?", I hear you ask - Yeah, don't think I forgot! Best believe I been cooking this one. There's evidence for Drake having ghostwriters - which on its own is fine, don't believe every star writes every single bar on their own. My problem with this is, that Drake keeps his cocky attitude, even though many of his hits aren't really Aubrey-written and also many ghostwriters never get their credit (this is why they're called "ghostwriters", I know that this is not something specific to Drake, but slapping one more name on the credits ain't that hard, when you're worth a billion bucks already). This is the rap equivalent of flexing your homework when you know DAMN WELL copied it off of your best friend and did nothing for that success. I guess his song Right Hand wasn't about a romantic interested after all, but the dudes who been writing it!

STOLEN SHIT: Why in hell is no one mentioning this on here? Drake is KNOWN for stealing other artists' verse metres (referred to as "flows", y'all tumblr, idk how much you guys do know, okay?), melodies, whole beats, samples or verses in general. In no other studio would you see mentions of a "reference track" concerning songwriting. They take a song as reference and build around it as they construct a beat. There's PLENTY of evidence for this happening, one story really had me baffled, where a young indie-rapper met Drake in the early 2010s, gave him his CD to listen to and a whopping 5 years later the indie-rapper realizes Drake just fucking stole his entire song (a really personal one at that) on his latest album back then. Being indie, of course the guy had little to no means of fighting back with lawyers or anything, man's was working a 9to5 job and had other stuff going on. Before you wanna argue with me though: YES. There is a difference between stealing and paying hommage. One famous example is Drake biting Eminem's Superman flow on Chicago Freestyle: "But I do know one thing though/ Bitches, they come, they go/ Saturday through Sunday, Monday / Monday through Sunday, yo/ Maybe I'll love you one day/ Maybe we'll someday grow". The only good thing Drake ever did was changing Em's "Bitches" to "Women" on his song. Other than that: exact same few bars. This is a hommage. Why? Because Eminem, that's why. You can pay hommage to great, well-known artists with good bars. It takes a common ground of knowledge from artist to audience to make a hommage like this work. That can go well. Kendrick copies the flow of a Kanye West song on HiiiPower and it works just fine because you listen to either of the song and think: "Ah yeah exactly, that one part, okay, I see you." You don't pay hommage to a small, unknown, indie-rapper by copying his whole verse about his Mom, when you would never say stuff like that on your records before. You don't, because it wouldn't work. None of your listeners would understand the innuendo at all, because no one ever heard of the "great guy you'd be paying hommage to". So shut up.

Music: It's just not that good. Like yeah, he had a few bangers, but let's not exaggerate. Artistically Drake does not offer anything. If he ever did, he probably left all of that on the first few albums he still rapped on. His delivery sucks, his singing voice sounds like he's tryna be The Weeknd at times but isn't. The lyrics aren't special. What the fuck?

Euphoria: Even before getting deeper into hiphop, I've always hated the way Drake presents himself. When Kendrick said: "I hate the way that you walk, talk, dress" I felt that. I hate the way he "raps", the way he drags his words, the way he laughs, the way he "sings". Just a whole lotta shit I dislike about the guy.

Sneak Dissing: If you want beef then get in line, don't just kinda allude to it, you weak ass bitch

SENSITIVE ASS BITCH: I love a man who's in tune with his feelings but Drake being the cosplaying gangsta clown he is, acts like he's all tough when in reality, you can't really say shit to him, cause he "can't let this shit slide, ay".

Kendrick's Control Verse drops - a verse calling out multiple rappers saying Kendrick will come for them in friendly competition for the crown of being the best. Drake was mentioned. Everyone thinks it's kinda cool and goes along. Drake is mad. In an interview he basically said he found it fake because the next time he saw Kendrick "it was all love" and that he wanted it "to be real. Let it be real then". Okay crodie, next time you get called out in a fair rap competition, best believe I'll sock you in your fucking throat, I gotchu.

The Weeknd doesn't sign to Drake's label OVO after working with Drake for a while. Drake is mad again and feels betrayed. Why you gotta be like this?

Kendrick says that he doesn't wanna collab with Drake because their music is too different, not because of anything personal. He just doesn't see it happen in the near future because it would not match artistically. Drake gets mad.

Drake stopped beefing with Pusha T back in the day. Probably because he exposed his son. But still, if you want beef, then clean up your plate, bc you eat what you order and dont't just start to "let this shit slide, ay"

("allegedly") being involved in XXXTentacion's passing back in 2018 over beef. This beef started because of the flow of X's popular song Look at Me!, which Drake stole shortly after letting X know his management would contact him about a possible collab. As you can imagine, X was never contacted by Drake's people. The kid was 20 years old, man. He said some outrageous shit at times, but no one deserves to go out like he did.

Also, the famous DMX ("Y'all gon make me lose my mind!") once said in an interview that he'd like to punch Drake in the face and I support that. Kendrick and his homies laughed at the clip - as did everybody else, cause it's hilarious if a beast and a legend of hiphop hates Drake. Drake was mad at Kendrick laughing about it and not taking it seriously. What did he expect? Should Kendrick have went after DMX and made him apologize for what he said about lil Aubrey? How old are you? 5?

Drake gets mad at a lot of shit - bottom line. I could go on and on, but I've been writing this for hours, it's half past 3 am and I wanna sleep after uni and work, y'all.

DURING THE DISS-ERTATION: this section is about shit Drake did during the beef with Kendrick.

Saying Kendrick's Like That verse was weak af. That's your core response? Someone flames you and people are already throwing ass to the mere sound of it and you think: "Huh, that sucked anyway." Pathetic.

Calling Kendrick short (over and over and over again) as if his height is under his control/ his fault? - as if that takes way from Kendrick's skill, Kendrick's allegations againt Drake! - as if that means ANYTHING AT ALL to people over the age of like... 12?

Going after anybody's family in the first place. I know nothing is really "off-limits" in a rap battle like this, but please have the fucking decency. Don't mention my Momma, my kids, my dog, my fam, my friends who ain't got nothing to do with the fact that I hate you. I will say I am not proud of Kendrick for getting down on that level himself - but I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy Meet The Grahams and the sheer panic it induced. And sometimes I gotta be a little childish and yell "But Aubrey started ittt!"

Hitting on Whitney in The Heart Part 6. Don't go for another man's treasure, you absolute dog. Accusing Whitney of being unfaithful. My friend, this beef is about us (the Culture) hating you and the things you do. Stop trying to shift this into something it is not.

Reacting to diss tracks via instagram stories and memes, like he's that one popular girl in 7th grade who's gotta clap back to something someone said in school on her IG. Shut up.

Calling The Weeknd and his manager gay. Are we not over homophobia yet? Being queer is not an insult. Also falsely "accusing" people of being gay is uncool as fuck - but oh "You don't know nun bout dat!" bc false accusations are basically everything you do - and also possibly outing someone like that is fucking hurtful as shit. I know the people involved are probably not queer at all, but if they were - period.

Using AI in a song at all. Drake, you already proved you suck. Don't force it down our throats. What part of you thought it would make you look good? What part said it would be good to do in a diss track, when the world knows diss tracks are even more a show of capability than other songs. Nah, you go and use AI. Idc about your "mind games": Using AI Snoop Dogg is just weird as fuck cause the Doggy is still well and alive - if you want him to feature on your song, call the legend and ask hi- oh wait, you knew he woulda said "Aww hell nah!" cause everyone hates you? Huh. Snoop probably woke up one day, hit a blunt and asked "When the FUCK did I collab with Drake?". Anyway, using AI 2Pac is straight up disrespectful, when you know damn well the guy would've hated you if he knew who you'd become. Just doing this because it's 2Pac, because you can and not even asking for permission of Pac's people is crazy. Glad the shit was taken down anyways.

The 8 Mile "Airing Out Your Dirty Laundry"-Trick before the big battle does NOT invalidate future claims on you diddling kids. No. Not even if 2Pac says it first. Nah.

His Damage Control Effort in post to make it seem like/make us believe that he's in control, when Kendrick has been bodying him is hilariously embarrassing. Anyone can claim the mole was fake "all along" after it happened.

Making fun of Kendrick for his verse on Taylor Swift's Bad Blood is just stupid. Look at all the features Drake does. Rihanna, BadBunny, DJ Khaled, Future, PartyNextDoor, Lil Wayne, Diddy, Nicki Minaj, Wizkid, ..... the list is so fucking long (I'm just picking at random songs at this point, cause I do not want my browser/spotify history to be associated with Drake's music. I don't wanna go out of my way to say he NEEDS these people to stay relevant but let's face it: His discography and his success would be different if it weren't for them

Acting like he's so great for "finally making Kendrick rap again" - Sir, you don't write your shit on your own, stfu. You don't invest time and effort into your vapid albums. YOU should be thankful for Kendrick destryoing you, giving us the best few lines out of you in a long time.

Not addressing important shit. We been over the allegations, I will not repeat them in this post cause this is already long enough. BUT y'all on the same page as me, aight? Instead of addressing EVERYTHING, he just responds with diss tracks that aren't terrible but really not THAT good, yk? Not going into the shit that we want to se addressed.

Acting like disstracks need replay value. Idk if this is a Drake or a fanbase problem, but people really act like Drake's tracks were better, bc you can listen to them more casually. "Kendrick basically made a whole song about Drake" - THIS IS WHAT A DISS TRACK SHOULD BE! Notice how we don't call every song containing a diss immediately a "diss track"? That's why. Diss tracks were meant to hit your opponent in the stomach with witty bars, double entendres, nice delivery and good production. Diss tracks weren't meant to be club bangers - bonus if they do end up being some though, looking at you, Like That and Not Like Us.

Not reading into stuff properly or just not listening. This is a small one, but ngl I hate the fact they got the Mother I Sober reference wrong (The song is NOT about Kendrick being abused, BUT about Kendrick not being abused and his Mom NOT believing him and passing her sa trauma onto him, even though he didn't experience that). Also Kendrick explicitly says "DOT, the money, power, respect / The last one is better" on Like That and Drakes response (again) is "Huh, I have way more money than you and in the industry, I'm way more powerful than you. Also, you so short tihhihi." BITCH he SAID respect was the most important of the three and you disrespect him, not by calling him out by his wrong doings but by picking on physical features the man cannot change like a 5th grade bully.

Anyways. phew. If you made it this far... wow. I'm impressed. I'll keep updating this. Thanks for coming to my beef talk.

EDIT: Thank y'all for the positive reactions on this post. If you seek more info/ want me to further explain stuff/ have even more dirt on Drake, let me know and we can work something out. -Frankie out

[luciferlightbringer]

Love in a Hopeless Place

Chapter 8

Buckle up, kids

Chapter 7|Chapter 8|Chapter 9|Updated through Chapter 12

Lucifer x prostitute fem!reader Word Count: 4.9k CW: Slowburn, Angst,Prostitution, Hurt/comfort, trauma, fluff, cuddles, depression, anxiety, Sexual fantasizing, insecurity, alcohol/intoxication

Days turned to weeks, weeks turned into a couple of months as your relationship with each other and with the hotel crew continued to grow. It was nice not to have to worry about the "end of the world" clouding the dynamic, but both of you felt a little differently about the current progression of things.

Lucifer loved getting to give more energy to caring about you and Charlie, creating and feeling like he was himself again. The dynamic he had with you ended in more nights of chilling, doing not much of anything other than being with each other. He had attempted slipping in some more cute pet-names into the conversation with you, just to see how you would react, and you seemed fine with it, like everything he did. He kept ending up in the same spot when it came to figuring out how to tell you about his true feelings. His fear of being turned down was intense, but he was more worried about doing something to lose you completely. He logically knew that was silly, but he was so scared to return to the sad disconnected person he was before he met you.

You, on the other hand, were a little scared because of the simplicity and calmness of your time now together. You hade never experienced this in your living life, or hell, so it made you really uncomfortable. He had started calling you things like "Apple" and "Duckie" which you liked, but he was more focused on you and your needs, there was less for you to do. Was he trying to model more of what he needed from you? But then, when you tried to care give for him, he would tell you to just let him care for you. Was he getting bored of you? Were your days together numbered? Would he soon be ok enough to not need you anymore?

Ughh... and why did you care so much? You had numerous other clients drop off during your time with Lucifer, and you had not given them a second thought. Why was this so different? Had you become too attached? Well you definitely had... but why? What was it about Lucifer that had you clawing to make sure he still needed you around? Was it the connection to the hotel? That had definitely made it stronger, but you knew this feeling had lasted before you started visiting the hotel.

The hotel issues was another matter, Charlie had been trying you get you to move in for weeks, and you kept telling her that you needed more time to prepare. You hated lying to her, but you were worried about how that might complicate the relationship with Lucifer, and of course you could not tell her about the dynamic. You would hate for something to happen between you two and then have Charlie caught in the middle, or feeling like it was you or him. She had that enough between Lucifer and Lilith, she did not want to do that to you again. You wanted Charlie to remain fully on Lucifer's side no matter what happened.

You wished you could talk to someone, anyone, about what was going on, but you couldn't, and that drove you mad.

______________________________________________________________

One particular day, it was time for Lucifer to go off to another Sins meeting. Lucifer went off with to his meeting, blitzed through it with a lot more honest vigor and energy than the last meeting, was able to deal with Mammon's complaining, and got it all wrapped up in no time at all.

At the end, Asmodeus waited for the room to clear out before trying to chat with Lucifer again.

"Well, now, someone is in much better spirits from last time~" Asmodeus said wiggling his eyebrows and chuckling.

Lucifer waved his hand, "Oh, ppsssh, golly, is it that noticable? Well, you know, I just got some good advice from a friend, got my confidence and my daughter back, and I'm the happiest I've been in decades. It's not a big deal."

Asmodeus shimmied his shoulders with joy, "Ahh! I am just so happy for you. It's like I always say, there is nothing more healing than some good, earthshattering, dirty, mindless sex."

Lucifer froze, "Ya... a- about that... umm... there... uhh... there hasn't been any sex."

Ozzie paused and cocked an eyebrow at you, "Say what now?"

Lucifer ran some figures through his hair, "Well... t-there almost was! But... then I had a liiiiittle panic attack, she helped me through it and was so amazing about it, I cried myself to sleep in her arms, it helped me sleep and feel better, and then I've basically been falling asleep in her arms every night since..." He ended with a nervous smile.

Asmodeus blinked, and put his hands on his hips, "You fell in love with her, didn't you?"

Lucifer's eyes went wide, "Whaaaaa... no... pffft. You're silly Ozzie, me falling in love with a prostitute? That's... that's" Lucifer looked at Ozzie, holding his stance, cocking an eyebrow. Lucifer deflated, "That's... exactly what happened..."

Asmodeus chuckled looked around before looking back at him, "You wanna know a secret?" Lucifer looked up at Ozzie, Ozzie smiled and leaned in, "You aren't the only one who has fallen for a fling."

Lucifer stared at Ozzie, had the Sin of LUST fallen in LOVE. "Whaa.."

Ozzie help up a hand, "But. no questions right now, we are focused on you. So... you dating her now?"

Lucifer rubbed his neck, "Not exactly... we are together all of the time, but I haven't been able to figure out how to tell her. I'm scared that I'm just another client to her... and that the minute I'm open about this, the fantasy that I have been living in will disappear around me."

Ozzie shrugged, "Well... it might," Lucifer deflated, "butttt... it might also be an open door into the happily ever after that is the rest of your life! You can't let that fear get in the way. Look at what your daughter managed to do with her hotel, look at what you did with reconnecting with her! The risk was all there too, and look how those turned out!"

Lucifer thought, Ozzie was right, he just needed to figure out how to tell you. "Ok... any thoughts on how I should tell her, oh master of Love?"

Ozzie laughed and put a hand on Lucifer's shoulder, "Don't overcomplicate it, just treat it like any other night, adding crazy stuff might make her nervous. Be yourself, be open and honest. If all goes well, she feels the same way and your first real date together can be where you pull out all of your creative, romantic magic."

Lucifer nodded, "Ok... ugh... I'm just still so nervous."

Ozzie shrugged, "Nothing wrong with a glass of wine or two to calm the nerves. You can do this Luc, nothing the King of Hell can't handle." Ozzie started to walk out the door, then stopped, "Go get that girl man."

Lucifer gave a confident nod and teleported himself home. He looked at the clock, he only had.... several hours until you would be over. Ugh, this was going to be a long afternoon. He looked over at his bar, just one glass couldn't hurt? He would be good long before he had to go get you.

Well... Lucifer underestimated how nervous he was, one glass became two, two became four, and by the time it was time for him to go pick up up, he was having a hard time even standing up without swaying. Lucifer looked down at his left hand, and remembered he still had it on. He quickly took it off and put it next to his bathroom sink, touched up his hair, pointing finger guns at himself in the mirror and get set up to go get you. It took him a couple of minutes to get the portal activated and popped in your room, a few minutes later than usual.

You had started to get a little nervous, he had never been late before, but it was ok, he was allowed to be late. That is when he stumbled through the portal and into your room, almost knocking into you.

"Oh! There you are! You are always so prompt, I got a little worried haha," you laughed, straightening him out.

He looked up you, and then he melted into a lovesick smile, "Haha, golly, I'm s-sorry Duckie, the portal was being dumb, haha." He slurred, "I'mmm here now, haha. You ready to go?"

You cocked your head to the side and smiled, "Haha ya, you ok, Luci?"

"Of course my darling!" he said, wrapping an arm around your waist, before tapping his cane on the floor a couple of times, grumbling, before popping back to the manor. Lucifer looked over his cane in one hand, the other arm still remaining around your waist mumbling something about his stupid cane before looking at you, his face melting into happiness again.

"I'll fix it laterrr, hi theree, how are you? You look great todayy," he said hugging you and snuggling into you. You hesitantly hugged him back, you weren't convinced that something happened that day, he was being... more affectionate but... in a weird way. Was... was he drunk?

"Uh... ya I'm good. Busy day of clients, nothing crazy. What about you? Are you sure you are ok? You seem... different today," you said carefully.

Lucifer had no idea how he was coming off, he didn't realize how drunk he was, he had forgotten about the last two drinks in all of his anxious spiraling. "Oh ya, today was great! Sins meeting, paperwork, all went by preeeeetty quickly. Oh hells! Guess what? I was talking to Asmodeus, sin of Lust, right? Dude got a boyfriend! Crazy right? Well... not that he is dating his hook-up, but that the Sin of Lust found love! Oh shit... I wasn't s'pposed to say that. Don't tell anyone, k?"

You nodded, smiling, "Oh ya, that is funny. Not everyday that mindless sex turns into something meaningful, right? Especially in Hell with a Sin like that? But of course, I didn't hear anything" You nodded.

'Oh fuck! That's not what I meant, ughhh that's not what I wanted her to get from that.' he thought.

"I mean! I love the Sins, they always surprise me with ways will people that you never thought they would," he said with a nervous smile.

You played a long with a nervous smile, you didn't know why he was being so nervous and not just telling you want was wrong. But if it was that bad, he would probably burst at some point and then you could be there to support him again. You hated when something was stressing him out, but it made you feel good to feel needed. So you would play along for the night and wait.

"Ya! I totally gotcha! Just like the sinners at Charlie's hotel, even the Sins are able to grow and change," you said with a sweet smile.

Lucifer smiled his love drunk smile, 'Good, fixed it, that was close. She is so beautiful and smart, I love how she words things sometimes.'

Other than Lucifer's apparent intoxication, and him sometimes sneaking off to grab another drink to keep up the buzz, your night was no different than it normally was with Lucifer only... more affectionate? You were really confused, because everything about his behavior was staying something was wrong or that he was hiding something, but other than that he was being very sweet, a little more touchy than usual, which you were fine with, he was allowed to touch you however he wanted of course.

Oh! Maybe that was it! Maybe he was wanting to try being more sexually intimate again and he was just so nervous because of the last time! You wanted to be careful because he was drunk, and you still felt that consent was important, but leaning deeper into his pets and soft touches was not an issue as you snuggled watching tv. At one point, you even placed a hand on his thigh, and he melted into your touch.

As true at that was, for Lucifer overall, that was not his goal for the night. There were so many moments when he thought about just saying that he wanted to talk about his feelings, telling you how much he loved you and wanted you to be part of his life, outside of hiring you, and he wanted to know how you felt. But the stupid words just would not come, and all he could do was compliment you and touch you, playing with your hair and stroking your soft skin. He felt you start to lean more into his touch, and even putting your hand on his leg, ugh, he was going to die.

Eventually, Lucifer had wasted enough time and it was finally time to go to bed. As you two were getting ready for bed, he kept repeating in his head 'JUST FUCKING SAY SOMETHING, ANYTHING! YOU NEED TO TELL HER OR ELSE YOU ARE GOING TO LOSE YOUR FUCKING MIND!'

You had gone into his bathroom to wash your face, and you noticed the ring sitting on the side of the sink. Huh, weird, had Lucifer not been wearing his ring all day? Or did he just usually take it off at night and you only just now noticed? You shrugged, and walked to the bed to get ready for bedtime. You got under the covers and waiting for Lucifer, who was still sitting on the side of the bed staring out.

You were about to reach over to touch his arm and ask if everything was alright, but at that moment, Lucifer snapped. He looked at you, eyes full of desire, and jumped on top of you, pinning you to the bed under him. He just stared down at you, breathing heavily. This both excited and frightened you a little, this wasn't like him.

"Lucifer, what is goin-" you started.

"I love you!" he finally spat out. "I love you and I want you!"

You eyes went wide as you stared up at him.

WHAT.

No, you must have misheard. He... loves you? But you were a nothing? A nobody? Sure you had helped him but... wait, was this a roleplay? Or was this real? Did he actually mean "love" like lust, or like Capital L Love? You ran through every single element of your relationship with Lucifer that both supported and refuted his statement in mere seconds, fact and opinion, memories that you couldn't remember if you were now twisting to validate something more romantic of him than it actually was. Things hotel people had said, the way he had cared for or protected you. Was that actually because he loved you, or did he just want to protect his financial investment? Was this a sick joke?

Lucifer loomed above you, waiting for you response, looking like a tiger ready to pounce on his prey. God he looked so hot, you wanted him to just sink himself into you. No! Stop. You couldn't think quick enough. What should you do? Do you play into it and risk being wrong about what he means here, or do you reject him and wait until he is sober to talk through this with him? If this was a normal person, you would take the risk, but with him... You think about the man now suffering in an eternal loop of torture, you think about the ring on the sink that tied him still to Lilith, you think about how small and insignificant you were in comparison to this beautiful angelic being above you.

No. As much at it hurt, you could not risk reading this situation wrong.

Lucifer had started to lean down to try to kiss you, when you shouted, "No!" and pushed him off of you. In Lucifer's intoxicated state, he was slow to respond, so you were able to easily able to put him off of you before jumping out of bed, tears already streaming down your face.

'No?' he thought, 'What did she mean "no"'?' he thought. Lucifer sat up and looked at you staring at him, heavily breathing and crying. What had he done?

"I... I'm sorry... I don't... I have to think... I don't... I don't want to be wrong, or hurt you, I don't know what to do, what is the right thing t-to do," you choked through tears.

Lucifer started to reach out to you, "Wait... Duckie..."

"No... Lucifer," you started grabbing your stuff to go, "I'm sorry, I need to think about this... I can't do this while you are so drunk... I'll see you later, ok?" You ran out of Lucifer's room, down the long hallway, and out of the manor. You weren't going to even try the driver, you didn't want Lucifer to have the chance to stop you. You would run all the way back home.

"Duckie... (y/n)..." he said before sinking into his bed.

What had he just done?

_____________________________________________________________

You would run for a long time, crying all the way, not caring who saw you, until you got all the way home. You busted into the Lounge, trying to run through up to your room. But guess who stopped you in your path? Cynthhhhia.

"What's the matter crybaby? That big money daddy of yoursssss not give you a big enough tip tonight so you ran home crying?" she snarled at you, grabbing your arm.

"Fuck off Cynthhhhia, just leave me alone!" you said trying to pull you arm out of her grasp, and in retaliation Cynthhhhia instead wrapped her tail around your leg and then let your arm go, making you fall on your face. The patrons and girls in the rooms gasped, this was humiliating.

"How about you make me, bitch! Ya know, I'm sssssso ssssssick of you being Larry'sssss favorite and getting all the good clientssss, while I get jack shit! It's time you learned a lessssson, you ungrateful little bi-"

"Cynthhhhia! That is enough out of you!' Larry screamed. The room parted between him and you both. "Drop her now, and get over here. Gemma, go check on (y/n), will ya?"

Cynthhhhia huffs and lets you go aggressively, and makes her way over to Larry as one of your Lounge friends, Gemma, came over and checked on you. You told her that you just wanted to go to your room, Gemma helped pick you up and half-carried you up to you room while Larry chewed out Cynthhhhia.

"What in the nine circles is wrong with you?! I have had to talk to you about your behavior with customers so fucking many times, now assaulting another girl?! I wanna hear what makes you think this behavior is ok? I don't care if we are in hell, I am not having any fucking cat-fights in here, and you know that!" Larry scolded Cynthhhhia.

"Wha- I... Ugh! Why does she get all the good clientssss! You are clearly playing favoritessss or she is tipping you off or something. I am not getting paid nearly what I was sssssince she showed up. Why am I not getting any high rollersssss?!" Cynthhhhia snarled.

"Well maybe if you put as much energy into your clients as you do going after girls like her, maybe you would have people who wanted to utilize your services. You do not seem to understand the fact that I am not giving you to high rollers because you are turning customers away with your behavior, or they are asking not to work with you anymore!" Larry yelled.

Cynthhhhia gasped, and looked around the room to see other girls and patrons laughing at her, "That's not true!"

"Like it or not, Cynthhh, that is the reality. And since you still don't seem to be getting it, I'm going to give you one more chance to redeem yourself, and if you fuck it up, you are out do you hear me?" Larry said pointedly.

Cynthhhhia tipped her head down in defeat, "Fine, what is it?"

Larry moved to meet her gaze, "Three days, on the phones scheduling appointments for the other girls, no tips."

"But-" Cynthhhhia started.

"It's the phones or you're out, got a problem with that?" Larry glared.

Cynthhhhia pouted, "No sssssir..."

"Good, now, off the floor with you, you are done for the night, I will see you down here at 10 am sharp," Larry then turned and headed to go up the stairs to the apartments.

You had made it upstairs with Gemma, she had asked if you wanted her to stay, but you said no. You just wanted to be alone. Several minutes later, you would be a knock on the door and a "Babydoll? It's Larry."

You sniffled and sat up, "Come in."

Larry opened the door and sighed, "God she is a right bitch, I don't know why I keep her around at this point. Now, what happened?" he closed the door behind him, "I'm not used to you having any issues with Lance."

"It... I don't even know how to explain. He was kinda drunk, he wasn't acting like himself, he didn't hurt me, but he told me something and... because he was intoxicated... I didn't know how to react. He's... got a fair amount of influence... I worried what would happen if I misunderstood the situation. So I panicked, I ran. I'm sorry if he called to complain or anything." You said looking down, covering your face with your hands.

Larry thought for a minute, "Rough situation, intoxicated clients can make things hard. Most wouldn't care, but you have been working with him for a while, it made sense that you would want to stay in good standing with him and not want to fuck that up. Are you worried about future actions? Do you need me to put him on you "No Kiss List"?"

"No, no. Nothing like that..." you sigh and run your fingers through your hair, "I just... I think I just need some time to think... would I possibly be able to take some time off?"

Larry scratched his chin, "Well... I don't know, Babydoll. I could do a day or two, but much past that... I need you, you bring in a lot of money..."

You sighed, "Give me two days and I'll pay for two more of my own days time? That sound fair?"

Larry thought for a moment, "Deal. What do you want me to tell your regulars?"

You sighed, "Just tell them I'm going on a quick rejuvenating vacation, and that their girl will be back for them before they know it." It will worry Lucifer, but you needed the space, you didn't want to say or do anything to fuck up the relationship any more than it already had by you running from him that night.

"Can do." You give Larry the payment for two days on your own time and he leaves your room. "Take care of yourself, babydoll," he says closing the door. You are alone again.

You take your phone out, scroll for a bit before finding a hotel and a ride to the other side of the Pentagram from both the Lounge and Lucifer for the morning, and booked them for as early as possible. You just needed some time away to figure out what to do and to figure out how you were going to respond to Lucifer.

You tried to fall asleep that night, but sleep never came. You spent the rest of the night replaying the situation in your head. Did he really mean it? That he loved you? Did he actually care about you and want you in his life? Or was it all a trick? Why would he say that to you?

The next morning, you packed up, got in your cab and disappeared on your 4 day escape to other side of the Pride RIng, hoping that when you returned, you would have the answers.

______________________________________________________________

That same morning, Lucifer would wake up with a light headache, crumpled in a weird position on his bed. Where were you? Why was he sleeping so weird? The previous night was fuzzy, damn, he had overdone it on the alcohol... Had you just left? That was not like you. What happened?

He got up, put on a robe, and started to walk around the manor, looking for anything that might jog his memory of what happened the night before. Everything looked normal, and all he could remember was the conversation with Ozzie, being a little tipsy getting you, and feeling nervous. The later into the night he thought, the fuzzier everything got. He ended up back in his bedroom for hours racking his brain. He wished he had a way to contact you, to ask you want happened, and you try to figure it out with you.

A while later his cellphone started to ring, he looked at the number and his groggy eyes went wide, it was the Lounge. This was the first time that the Lounge had called him. He picked up the phone and put on his "Lance" voice.

"Uh, hello! This is Lance, what can I do for you?" Lucifer said in a deeper and huskier voice.

"Yes, hello, this Luxurious Lady's Lounge, how are you doing thissss afternoon?" Said Cynthhhhia as pleasantly as she could over the phone. She had done well playing nice on the phone all morning, so now Larry was leaving her to call all of your cancelations for the next 4 days.

"Oh you know, just living the dream!" Lucifer responded. Christ... why did he say that?

"That issss wonderful to hear. We jussssst wanted to let you know that your next appointment for tomorrow evening with (y/n) will be canceled. She will out of town for a little bit," Cynthhhhia said through a fake smile.

Lucifer felt a sense of dread go through his body, 'Out of office? So suddenly?' "Oh! Well thank you for letting me know, I hope she is alright, she is quite a gem, haha."

Cynthhhhia's jaw tightened, "Oh yessss, she just needed to essssscape on a quick rejuvenating vacation." Cynthhhhia looked around to see if Larry was around, he was nowhere, and the office was pretty empty, she smiled, "... Isssss what they want me to tell you, but I don't want to lie to a man like you, Mr. Lanccccce."

Lucifer's heart beat fast in his chest, "Haha, what do you mean?"

"The truth of the matter isssss... you've been put on (y/n)'s "No Kisssss List".... basssssically a ban from being able to work with her," Cynthhhhia said with a wicked smile.

Lucifer froze on the other side of the phone. Banned. She banned you. Months of joy and beauty between you two, severed in an instant. Lucifer felt like he couldn't breathe.

"I'm ssssso ssssorry to break the newssss to you like thissss. She just came back from a.... recent interaction telling usssss she... oh what was it, "Couldn't handle the bullshit anymore" isssss I think how she put it. But we have plenty of other ladiesssss that would be willing to take her sssspot if you'd like," Cynthhhhia continued, looking around for Larry again, still nothing, good.

"That's... disappointing to hear. I thought we had a good connection," Lucifer said flatly into the phone.

"Oh she issss really good at that, a good little actressssss but honessssstly a bit prissssssy and shallow under it all, trussssst me, I'm around her all the time. A real heartbreak, I ssssswear, I bet she would even break the King'sssss heart if she had a chance," Cynthhhia said laughing.

Lucifer saw red with that comment, 'What did she mean by that? Did you tell? Did they actually know it was me? Was that just a figure of speech?' His name got thrown around a lot, so he had no idea in this moment, it just felt really personal at that moment.

"I see, thank you for the information," Lucifer said before hanging up.

Cynthhhhia growled at the sound of the dead line, before putting down the phone, and making a note that "Lance" had been notified of a cancelation and would call back if he wanted to reschedule. Cynthhhhia then moved on to the next of you client's, feeling pleased with herself. If she couldn't have a a high roller, at least she could take out one of your big money daddies.

Lucifer laid back in his bed and tossed his phone over to the side. Everything he had feared happening had come true. Everything he had built with you was gone, and worse, maybe even a lie. He did not want to believe that what you had was a lie, but maybe he was just that stupid after all. He wanted to show up to your room and talk to you, but he couldn't. If he had hurt you or maybe you really were some shallow bitch... maybe this was for the best...

Lucifer crawled back in bed and stayed there for the rest of the day and into the night. He would respect your wishes.

Lucifer would never ask see you ever again.

______________________________________________________________

Can we see why I gave a warning on one last twist? I broke my own heart writing this. I'm so sorry. I promise it will end up ok in the end though for these two. xoxo, dany As usual, leave a comment if you want added to the taglist so that you can get notifications when future chapters drop! Taglist: @froggybich @wonderlandangelsposts @glowinthedarkbones1150 @marydragneell @crescent-z @superdinosaurnacho @jam0001 @kyo-kyo1 @so-get-this-sammy @lilzebeth @kelppsstuff @loquacious-libra @pinkhoneydrop @luleck @writer-girl99 @lavenz @stormz369 @littleladydemon @soujiswife @melday0105 @luluxx118 @sseleniaa @futureittomainn @cktkat @zaneyyyy @uravitsy @liecoris @starlitvenus @hannahrose130 @elleofdragons @butch-medusae @concentratedconcrete @erosamasan @stranger-chan @aquaamethyst96 @lxkeee @holyspacething @hulyenl @leximus98 @lu-ferri12 @mixplara @katnisspeetaprim

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 22: I May Be Right or I May Be Crazy

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

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter twenty two of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 9.1K

Warnings: I'm going to label this one 18+ because it handles some heavy subjects! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. Seriously it is DARK. THIS ONE IS REALLY DARK! Angst, Cursing, Mentions of Abuse (sort of- it's more the reader being used without knowledge of it and I'm not sure what to call that), Numbness, Mentions of character going through some HEAVY EMOTIONS and INTERNAL TRAUMA , Violence, Explicitly Described Torture, Fire, Graphic depiction of death, Blood, Gore, Sexual References, Family Problems. Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, completely a little OOC. Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

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

A/N: I'm serious guys this one is really gory, violent, and bloody. I mean, so is the show. BUT this is an additional warning if you don't like reading that kind of stuff, please do not read this. It also handles a really delicate issue with the reader going through something that no one should ever have to. I've never written something like this before and honestly I don't think I ever want to again, but it had to be addressed...

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

"Are you sure you want to stay here?" Ben says, gently pushing back a few strands of your hair from your face, fingers trailing against your cheeks, warmed from the morning sun that peaks through the large trees which shield Legend's property from the rest of the world.

Butcher had finally found Mindstorm, figured out which cabin he was hiding at, and although you wanted to go to make sure that Ben was alright, you knew that you couldn't go with him.

There was something you needed to do and you needed to do it without Ben there. It had to be handed delicately. You weren't sure what you would learn, what it would confirm or deny, and as much as it hurt you to be apart from Ben, you had to do it alone.

It was two days after your revelation, after you received what seemed like divine wisdom while staring at your daughter as if seeing her for the first time in forty years and understanding what it was that you'd forgotten. It had been hard to laugh off why you'd shattered a mug during Butcher's little pow-wow, even Rosemary was concerned after, but you'd waved her off and said that you were just getting accustomed to your new supe strength.

But Ben wasn't fooled. When you went upstairs to clean the alcohol from your clothes Ben had followed and tried to get you to tell him what was wrong, but you'd only said that you were tired. He knew you were lying, but he only sighed and hugged you because he didn’t really know what else to do.

And now standing outside of Legend's house while Ben, Butcher, and Hughie were about to go after Mindstorm you wanted to tell him what you believed, but you still couldn't.

You had to find out for yourself.

"Yeah. I don't want to leave Rosemary or Lou." You reply leaning in to his touch. It was true, you didn't, but it wasn't the whole truth and it made you feel guilty. You'd never lied to him before or well, hadn't tried to intentionally trick him. And it felt worse to do this now that the two of you were starting over, and when everything felt more wonderful than you could have imagined all those years ago.

Ben eyes you for a moment and you're suddenly worried that he's been a mind reader this whole time and he's just never said anything.  But then his expression softens. "Are you sure you're okay? You haven't said too much since the other day."

"I'm fine." You touch the front of his supe suit, laying your hand directly over his heart and feeling the gentle thud in the palm of your hand. It was difficult not to touch him now, not after the boundary had been crossed so many times over the past two days. Somewhere deep down you worried that Ben was still uncomfortable with you doing something so intimate in public.

You were aware that everyone was looking at the two of you, Rosemary and Lou standing more towards the house on the front porch and Hughie and Butcher were standing by Butcher's car parked in the long driveway. Butcher's car still had a giant hole in the roof from when Ben punched through it and when he saw the hole, Butcher had threatened to send Ben back to Russia and you threatened to melt Butcher into a puddle.

But Ben gently touches your wrist, where your hand rests against his chest, frowning slightly.

"Fine. I've got a few things on my mind-" You whisper, hating how easily he could read you, but at the same time you loved it.

Ben made you feel seen, and after years of feeling invisible, feeling like you were losing you best friend, and feeling like he would never care about you the same way, it made you happy and comforted.

"Then tell me. I want to help." Ben's hand slides up your wrist to your hand, entwining his fingertips with yours and surprising you again. He was being so open and thoughtful in front of everyone. His eyes search yours as if he was trying to see your thoughts and it made you smile again to understand how much he loved you and cared about you.

"Ben." You breathe, squeezing his hand. "I don't want to talk about it now. Can we talk about it when you get back?"

"Is it why you're not coming with me?" His frown deepens.

"A part of it. But I really want to make sure that Lou and Rosemary are safe."

Ben raises his gaze to look at where Rosemary stands frowning at the two of you, before he looks back at you. "Okay." But he doesn't seem happy with the turn of events.

You didn't blame him, you didn't want him to go face Mindstorm alone even with Hughie and Butcher. You still didn't trust Butcher and of all your old teammates Mindstorm was the most troubled.

"Can you promise me something?" You ask Ben, looking up at him.

"Anything."

"Watch out for the kid."

"The kid?" Ben looks confused. "Lou?"

"No. Hughie." You glance over to where Hughie is standing at the back of the car with Butcher.

Probably talking about the Temp V they're going to shoot up to take down Mindstorm.

You really didn't want to leave Ben with Mindstorm of all people. Mindstorm was probably one of the only supes that could do something to Ben. Ben did have some psychic immunity, but you thought that Mindstorm could peel away the layers, sink deep into his mind, make Ben see the things that always plagued him. And the last thing you wanted was for Ben to be trapped in an automatic loop of him listening to his father say what a disappointment he was. You were trying to make him forget those things, just as Ben tried his hardest to make you forget the things your mother said to you.

If Mindstorm put Ben through that, you were going to hunt him down to the ends of the earth and make him understand what it was like for someone to peel the skin from your flesh bit by bit and then make him eat that brain of his that he loved so much.

Plus you figured that the worst thing that could happen is Mindstorm would lock you in your own head and you'd have to spend your final hours with your dead mother, which yes that would suck, but at least at the end of it you'd have a new fun superpower to torture Mindstorm with.  Seemed like a good trade-off if you had to spend your last moments with the bitch herself.

I wonder what he'd make her say to me, what I'd see. I've heard it all before, don't really think that he'd make me see anything I haven't seen before or heard before.

"Why?"

"Hughie's not like us. None of this is him. He's different. He's a good person and all of this is-” You glance over at Hughie again, before looking at Ben. “ Just look out for him."

Ben's hand tightens in yours where it still rests against his chest. "Fine. But if that fucker comes for me I'm not going to tip-toe around Hughie's feelings. I'm going to kill Mindstorm, that's why I'm going there."

"I know." You nod.

"I mean you saw the shit he did to those kids-" Ben whispers the last part because he doesn't want Lou to hear, but notices Rosemary perk up, where she stands on the front porch.

"Yeah. I remember."

Mindstorm was more fucked up than most of the others on your team, found joy in making people see terrible things. And his favorite targets were children. Stan had a hell of a time covering that up, covering up Mindstorm's morning walks through parks and on the edges of elementary schools. He liked to live in their minds as he took them apart bit by bit, exposed them to his own twisted reality.

Mindstorm wasn’t a good person, but you knew that Hughie was.

"I'm not asking you to spare his life." You whisper back. "He was one of the worst from our old team. I'm just asking you to look out for the kid."

"I will."

You nod, still worried. He was going with Hughie and Butcher, but it still felt like he was alone if you weren't with him. The problem was you couldn’t see the way around it. This was your chance to go alone to find some answers, but you didn't like it, didn't like leaving Ben.

Probably about as much as Ben hated leaving you.

“I promise I’ll come back.” He murmurs pressing his forehead against yours, green eyes soft in the morning light. He was mistaking you hesitation for your fear of him leaving and never coming back.

You reach up with your free hand to touch his cheek. "I know." Your thumb gently rubs over his bearded cheek, smiling up at him. "I love you." You whisper.

Ben leans down and kisses you softly, just a fleeting brush of his lips against yours that leaves you wanting more. "I love you too Sweetheart." He murmurs with a soft smile.

Again you weren't used to that, used to him looking at you like you were his whole world, and you never wanted him to stop.

Ben pulls away and raises his gaze to where Rosemary stands arms crossed over her chest with Lou standing beside her watching with wide eyes.

"Be careful." Rosemary says, but it sounds pained, almost as if it took a large amount of effort to say, but you were happy she said something to him that wasn't meant to hurt him.

Maybe that's a good sign. You think to yourself, but then you notice the frown on her face. Or maybe not.

He nods once, but as soon as he takes a step towards where Hughie and Butcher are waiting by the car, Lou runs to him, her tiny arms pumping as fast as she can.

"Ben wait!" She cries, throwing herself against his leg and pressing her head into his right knee. "Don't go. If you go Aunty y/n will be sad again!" Lou mumbles into the fabric, hugging him tight.

Ben stiffens, his eyes shifting to you and for a second you see something unfamiliar flash in his gaze, something painful. It shakes you to your core, and makes you remember how he looked when he stood above your bed the night he came back and said that he couldn't lose you and when he sat in the car and showed you how upset he was that he wasn't there for you when you were pregnant with Rosie.

It made you want to pull him into your arms and hold him close, make him feel loved all over again, show him how much you wanted him here with you despite everything that happened in the past.

He crouches down so he can look Lou in the eye. "I won't be gone long. I'm a little harder to kill than these other sons of-" Ben stops to sensor what he was going to say and clears his throat. "Um. I'm a little harder to keep away than other people."

"Do you promise?" She says.

"Yes I promise honey." Ben smiles tightly.

"Take this for good luck." Lou reaches into the front of her bright pink overalls to pull out a small yellow flower about the size of Ben’s pinky, holding on to the stem in her little hand.

You have no idea where she got it, only that she was holding it out to Ben as if it had the power to save the universe.

Ben looks from Lou's face to the flower, but takes it from her. “Thank you.” He places it carefully in his pocket and zips it in, but before he can stand to go, Lou throws her arms around Ben’s neck and hugs him tight.

You're sure that Ben must barely feel it, you'd seen a supe try to choke him out and Ben only laugh at them. But this is different.

Ben doesn’t move, in fact it doesn’t look like he’s really breathing. His eyes flick to where you’re standing, wide  in surprise and you give him an encouraging smile, because Lou already loves Ben just as much as you do. Ben’s arms are still at his sides awkwardly, but he finally wraps one arm over Lou’s back to hold him to him, gently as if he’s afraid he’ll crush her.

"I'll come back." He murmurs to her. "I promise." But his eyes aren't on Lou, they're on you, open and almost earnest. Making you understand again that he didn't want to leave you, that he wanted to stay, but if he had to go, he'd always come back to you.

Rosemary watches with a frown from the porch, but doesn’t say anything. In the days that had followed their initial meeting she was still trying her best to let him know that she wasn't going to be his friend, that she wasn't going to forgive him.

It hurt you. You didn't say that to her, because you didn't want her to be guilted into liking Ben, but it hurt. It hurt to see your daughter push him away, when all Ben wanted was family. You understood that. Understood that in the way he treated Lou and understood it in the way he treated you.

He was so different than before and you wished Rosemary could see it like you did, but you understood that she needed to realize that all by herself no matter how long it took. You all had time.

Maybe that was the problem, Rosemary had an eternity to hate Ben, but maybe the good thing was that you had an eternity to make him feel loved.

Lou pulls back from him and you take her hand while Ben stands.

"Oi' while we still got daylight!" Butcher shouts from his car, leaning back against the door.

But just before you think Ben is going to go to the car, he steps close to you and kisses you so fiercely you don't remember how to breathe and then he's gone just as suddenly.

You watch the car pull away holding Lou's hand tightly, while it goes down the long drive and finally vanishes in the thicket of trees. It doesn't feel as warm anymore, you're not sure if that's because Ben is gone or because you're preparing yourself for what you have to do next.

"Here you go kitten. This is the only one I could find" Legend says walking through the front door of his house and past Rosemary to hand you a knee-length dark green leather coat. It was vintage, and you had asked him to find something that didn't make you look ridiculous. Legend had closets full of clothes that would have made you look like you were in a Solid Gold music video, and Ben had started wearing the clothes around the house because he didn’t have anything else.

Of course on him they looked good, Ben could be wearing a paper bag and a shower cap and still somehow pull it off.

"Thank you." You release Lou's hand to take it, putting your arms through the sleeves so it hung over your jeans and your black t-shirt.

I swear if I lose one more jacket someone is going to pay. Yeah, because that's what I should be upset about, losing another jacket.

"What do you need that for?" Rosemary asks.

"Lou." You crouch down next to her, smiling up into her freckled cheeks. "I want you to go inside and draw me a field of sunflowers okay?"

"A whole field?" Her eyes brighten.

"A whole field."

"Can I give it to Ben?" She asks.

"Of course you can honey. I think he’d like that very much.” You tuck her dark hair behind her ear before she turns and runs through the large wooden double doors at the front of Legend’s home.

You stand. "I have to do something."

"What do you mean? I thought you just told Ben that you weren't going after Mindstorm?"

"I'm not going after Mindstorm."

"Then what? You’re going to kill someone else aren’t you?” Rosemary crosses her arms over her chest, obviously upset.

You don’t answer.

“Why? Why are you doing this-“ She shouts exasperated.

“Something about everything that happened doesn’t sit well with me.”

“What do you mean everything that happened?”

“Ben was Vought’s golden boy. And I don’t understand why Stan Edgar would just let him be taken like that.” You look at where Legend stands. You didn't think that he knew anything about it, hoped that he didn't. He was one of your oldest friends and to find out that he had betrayed you the same as Payback had betrayed Ben wouldn't end well.

By now he's lit a cigarette, smoking it thoughtfully. "I've wondered the same thing. Stan Edgar was involved in everything, and for him to give the go ahead for Payback to hand Soldier Boy over, means that there must have been some money exchanged for him to green light it." Legend blows out a lungful of smoke that hangs in the air in front of his face. "Stan never brought up much with me, just that he was excited that the team was going to be given a chance to help out in Nicaragua." Legend frowns. "I will say that before the premiere that night, Stan seemed to already know that y/n wasn't going to be on that trip. In fact he was convinced that you were going to stay state-side and work with Vogelbaum on some things."

"Vogelbaum?" Rosemary questions looking at him.

"He was the main scientist for Vought, he had in fingers in every pie, knew the extent of all our powers, except mine." You wave a hand. "I always refused bloodwork, I didn't want him to be poking and prodding around in my DNA for too long. But he definitely was big on genetic testing. They were trying to make a new hero-" You pause remembering what Vogelbaum said the night of the premiere. You hadn't remembered what he said until now. When Vogelbaum mentioned the next generation of heroes.

"What is it?" Legend asks.

"Stan knew I wasn't going to Nicaragua. He knew that Countess would make Ben push me away, but what if he was working with Vogelbaum?"

"What would that help?" Rosemary interjects.

"The night of the premiere Vogelbaum said that he wanted me to come by the lab, to meet someone. He said that he was working on "the next generation of heroes" or something." You shake your head as if trying to move things back in place so you can understand. "There's something I'm missing about the whole situation. Some missing piece that doesn't fit." You bite the inside of your cheek. "Stan tried to come talk to me after Ben died, but I never heard what he had to say- I broke his nose and threw him out."

"Maybe he was going to try to get you to come to the lab again." Legend shrugs.

"But why were they so adamant about that it just makes no sense. Why was I important? Why me? It could have been anyone. Hell, they could have had Countess go instead of me. There were other women, other supes. Why did I matter so much?"

You glance at Rosemary again, examining her face and seeing the same thing you realized the other day. Deep down you understood why, but you wanted to be wrong, you didn't want to believe that someone would take that from you, that someone was capable of doing something like that.

"But do you have to kill someone to find out why?" Rosemary pleads. "I don't understand how you're okay with killing people-" She begins to say looking at you like she's never met you before.

"You think I'm okay with killing people?" You ask her. "You think I like this?"

"No but-"

"I've done a lot of shit that I'm not proud of. I've lost control. I've killed people. But believe me when I say that what I'm about to do, I do for you. It might not seem that way right now, but I hope that one day you can understand that."

"Mom I-" She starts, but you hold out your hand. She looks from it to you as if confused, but then finally takes it.

"If Homelander comes here, you kill him. Do you understand me? You don't give him a chance to speak, you kill him." You say, feeling your powers transfer into Rosemary. It didn't hurt, it never did, in fact if she did it to anyone else they probably wouldn't have noticed. Her ability was almost undetectable, the only thing that changes is the quick flash of molten gold in her eyes when she does so. But it was instantaneous and it didn't matter how long Rosemary held on to someone, all it took was skin to skin contact, one touch and that was it.

Rosemary's expression hardens. "Okay."

"I love you." You squeeze her hand once more before you let go.

"I love you too mom."

You take a few steps away from her. "I'll be back tonight. I promise. If Ben gets back before me, just tell him that I needed to do something and that I'll be back. Don't let him try to come after me."

"He's not the easiest person to tell what to do." She sighs.

"I know." You shrug. "He's just like you."

"He is not-"

"He is."

"You need to borrow the car kitten?" Legend asks, beginning to search through his pockets for the keys to his black 1967 Impala. It was in mint condition and Legend was proud of it.

He should be. It's a nice car.

"Nah I think I'll hitch-hike." Your smile is triumphant and maybe a bit mischievous, as you take to the sky, leaving the world and everything you know behind.

If only you knew what was coming.

Stan Edgar was a simple man. He liked his whiskey neat, his coffee black, his cigars Cuban, his suits pressed, his dinner at 6 pm sharp, and his women poised. Stan Edgar rarely deviated from his plans, never cancelled a meeting, and took every phone call no matter how late. He read the Wall Street Journal each day, checked his blood pressure meticulously, and was in top shape for a man of his age. After years of shaping his image, Stan Edgar's life was the epitome of control and composure.

Not a hair was ever out of place, his apartment on the Upper East Side was perfectly organized, and he never got angry, he got even. He never lost a minute of sleep. He never raised his blood pressure and he knew the exact price that a minute of his time was worth.

He took his morning coffee in the dining room of his large five-bedroom penthouse apartment with a bowl of oatmeal while he read the Wall Street Journal and left his home at exactly 7 am only to return at 5 pm to read through various briefs before his housekeeper delivered his dinner to the same dining room table that he had previously had breakfast on.

When he was taken off the board from Vought, his schedule had deviated slightly, but it was easy for him to control the company, especially with the connections that Stan Edgar had worked his entire life to maintain.

Stan Edgar's life had reached a point of comfortable routine and after forty years it was as it should be. He knew the ins and outs of New York City, he had a stable home, various rental properties, rising stocks, and a control of most of the inner workings of Vought even with Homelander's hostile takeover. Homelander was proving to be a bigger problem than he hoped, but Stan Edgar did not allow himself to revel in Homelander's destruction of the company Stan worked so hard to build up.

Every moment in his life was mapped out to the second and Stan Edgar had worked hard to make it to the top, had crushed many an executive, assistant, and person to gain the power and status that he had.

When Forbes did a profile on him, they had proudly described his rise to power, of course there were details left out, pieces of Stan Edgar's life that he had worked hard to sweep under the rug. But he did not lose sleep over that.

His apartment is cold, silent, and dark when he walks through the front door at 6 pm sharp, odd because Stan expected his housekeeper to be standing there to take his coat as she had been for the past twenty years. The same navy blue wool coat he shrugs out of and hangs on the maple coatrack just inside the front door in his foyer.

You can hear the sound of his footsteps along the marble tiled floor as he makes his way through the silent apartment, his dark brown shoes polished to a shine, squeaking slightly against the polished tiles.

"Roberta?" Stan calls looking for his housekeeper. His voice caries through the darkness.

You could smell the tobacco from his last cigar on his suit coat, his heady cologne, and his hair oil that was just a little spicy. It was old fashioned, something that you could remember from the first time you met him.  You could hear the steady beat of his heart in his chest, perfectly maintained by the bottle of medication you had found in his bathroom only a few hours ago.

You already knew Stan Edgar's routine by heart, knew exactly how he spent his days, and the kind of person he was. Today was not the first time that you had trailed him, wove through the crowded streets behind his thin form as he moved oblivious to your shadowing, and watched his driver Carlos pick him up and drop him off at the correct times. You had done it many times, taken days to understand who he was, understand where he went at what time, and who he met with.

Nothing in Stan Edgar's life was a mystery to you.

Hughie's revelation of Victoria Newman's relation to Stan Edgar was not a surprise. It was a piece of information you held close to your heart if things between the two of you ever went South. You didn't fear her power and you weren't above torturing the weapon that Stan had turned her into. It would have been difficult, she was after all a senator, but it would be easy to inflict a small problem within her body telekinetically, something that looked normal to the naked eye.

Of course what you were about to do to Stan was going to be difficult to explain to the police.

You had contingencies in place for that though, there was nothing to worry your head over. The hardest thing you'd done today was get out of bed this morning and your day had included disposing of Stan Edgar's security detail, who hadn't even been able to touch you, let alone know that you were following him.

Some security detail.

You took a drag from your cigarette, leaning back in the high-backed chair in Stan's ornate living room, the tip burning orange in the darkness, the smoke obscuring your form where you lounge back against the faded green velvet. It already smelled like cigar smoke and you knew that it was where Stan smoked his nightly pipe after dinner, the velvet holding the strong scent of tobacco and Stan's ancient cologne. You hadn't had a cigarette since you were pregnant with Rosemary, but there was something about the drama of smoking one that you couldn't pass up.

Stan turns into the living room, but his foot hits something solid where nothing should be and he pauses.

"Roberta?" He says again hesitantly. "Did you move the couch?"

She wouldn't answer him, couldn't answer him. Killing her had probably been a mistake, but when you realized that she was an ex-hero hired by Stan as an extra precaution to make sure no-one entered his apartment, it had made you feel better, especially when she tried to electrocute you, which had surprisingly slowed you down, but not enough to spare her life.

You hear Stan's fingers fumble against the light switch on the wall and the hiss of his surprise when his hand comes back sticky and wet.

You can see him clearly in the darkness, Homelander's x-ray vision meant that you'd never have a problem seeing in the dark ever again. You watch Stan's nose wrinkle in disgust, confused at the discovery, but then watch as he reaches again and flips on the light, his eyes leveled at the ground trying to figure out what it was that he stumbled onto.

His security detail had come to sweep his apartment as they did each day thirty minutes before he arrived home, and it had been the last thing that they had ever done. The blood from the bodies was soaking through the hardwood floors and trickling down to the oriental rugs below Stan's modern living room furniture. The thick copper smell of blood was everywhere and you weren't sure how he missed it.

You hear the sharp intake of his breath as he sees the bodies, traces the ripped limbs and headless forms of his pathetic security detail at his feet. There were others in his bedroom, one in the kitchen, and another hanging from the horns of a moose head over the fireplace at your right where you sit, the blood flowing thick down the beige wallpaper and dripping onto the once pristine floors. There were nine in total, and although the past version of you would have maybe felt some remorse for their deaths, you were finding it difficult to, especially after realizing what you had.

"It's hard to find good help these days." You arch your brow taking a drag from the cigarette perched between your index and middle finger. "I'd say you paid too much for their service given how easy they were to dispose of. I'm kind of disappointed, thought that they'd be a bit more of a challenge."

Stan looks up from the bodies, eyes wide, to see you sitting there in the armchair. There was blood flecked over your shirt, on your jacket, in your hair and on your cheeks that you hadn't bothered wiping away, you figured that there would be more soon and you didn't care.

"Y/n." He keeps his voice composed, but you can hear his hand shift to his pocket for his phone.

It doesn't get far.

You telekinetically pull him over the back of the couch and force him on his knees in front of the ornate square coffee table poised in the center of the room. His hands palm down, fogging the glass with his body temperature. His body is outlined in bright purple, completely at your mercy and under your control, your own eyes glowing bright purple.

You allow yourself to take another drag of cigarette and let a cloud of smoke trickle out from your full lips. "It's good to see you Stan. How long has it been? Ten years? You look good better than my teammates did anyway."

"I was wondering when you were going to drop by." He says tightly eyeing you. "Are you going to keep pretending that you're not Indigo?"

You smile and laugh at him. "I think I'm done pretending."

You weren't surprised that Stan knew. When you'd seen him at your art show all those years ago when you moved back to the city you had suspected he knew, not to mention that he had called Legend to ask about you. It was unfortunate that Stan knew, because now you worried who else knew, but you also figured that the cat was out of the bag as soon as you fought Homelander.

Plus, maybe the secret would die with Stan.

"Is Ben here?" Stan asks, and you hear the way his voice sticks on Ben's name. His eyes shift to the dark corners of the room as if he believes that Ben will materialize from the shadows.

It's like him to be more afraid of Ben than me. No one was ever afraid of me. I was just Ben's little friend, another supe that they could dress up and put on display. They should have been afraid.

"No, I came alone. Thought I'd give him the night off."

"I’m surprised you let him back into your life after everything that happened." Stan replies, but you don't miss the twitch of his body as he tries to escape the grip of your powers. He wouldn't. Your hold was unbreakable for someone like him. If you had decided to use your powers on Ben or on Homelander, you were sure that it wouldn't hold them for long, they were too strong.

You examine Stan again. His body is rigid in your hold, head tilted up to stare at you, hair flopping forward into his face from when you yanked him over the couch, and his knees are pressed into the blood soaked carpet on the living room floor.

You knew what he was doing, he was trying to get inside your head, try to make you turn against Ben the way everyone else did, but you wouldn't fall for it, not again.

"Well you did you best to keep it that way, didn’t you Stan?"

"I don't know what you're talking about-" Stan's words are cut off in a gasp as your telekinetic grip tightens on his body, squeezing him tight for a moment before you release the pressure, but keep him where he is.

"Do me a favor, don't lie to me. It's insulting, plus we're old friends." You smile sweetly. "And I always love seeing my old friends. Especially ones who stabbed Ben and me in the back."

Your glowing purple eyes flick to the large painting on the living room wall. It's one of yours, a depiction of a quiet forest from your last show. It was weird to see a piece of the new life you crafted hanging there. "I'm flattered you bought one of my paintings."

"You always were talented. I was disappointed that you didn't start trying to sell them earlier. Probably would have sold more when you were a hero,  could have enhanced your image." He says, but you can hear the edge beneath his voice. He's trying to keep conversation, make this diplomatic, when he knows there's no way out. You’d made sure of that. No one was coming to help Stan Edgar.

"I sell enough now. Thanks though." Your body stands from the chair, listening to the rapid beat of his heart in his chest, and gesture to the collection of tobacco pipes that line the mantle beneath the body of the security guard. "My dad had a pipe just like this one." You stop at a simple one, not carved, plain, a dark cherry wood that tapered into solid black. "Used to smoke right before he went to bed every night. I spent a lot of time sketching him sitting in his chair by the fireplace, learning what he looked like, tracing the plains of his face." You take another long drag from the cigarette.

It was hard to think about your father after all these years, you hadn't thought of your family in a long time, not when you had Rosemary and Lou and now Ben. But you could still remember those quiet evenings when there was a hint of a chill in the air and your father would smoke his pipe and listen to music from the phonograph he had in the corner while you sat at his feet and drew him. Sometimes your mother would join him with her own embroidery in the matching arm chair next to his. As much as you never got along with her, you could see how much she loved your father and how much he loved her.

"I'd never met Homelander in person before a few days ago. I'd seen his face on billboards, on energy drinks but never in person. I would have realized it years ago if I had." You trace the gentle curve of the pipe with a fingertip, exhaling another trail of smoke.

"Realized what?"

"I'm only going to ask you this once Stan." You pause as you turn to look at him. "Why does Homelander have my father's nose?"

It was obscure. You knew that. But it was what you had realized the other day when you were looking at Rosemary, the one feature that distinguished her from Ben, the one piece of yourself that she had, was the same one that Homelander did. You suspected that the smell of hair dye you smelled when you met Homelander for the first time was to cover up the brown hair that he must have shared with Ben, just as the makeup on his cheeks would cover the familiar freckles Rosemary had. They could have been twins, you could see it now.

Stan doesn't breathe, his muscles straining under his suit as he silently fights for his freedom, his heartbeat thuds loudly in your ears, but he doesn't answer you.

Your eyes glow a dangerous purple and the ceiling light flickers above the two of you, the sound of the static with each blink breaking up the wet tap of the blood dripping to the floor and the low pitched thrum of your powers that fills the room.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Stan swallows.

"What did I say about lying to me?" You sigh, flicking the cigarette into the full length white curtains that remain closed over the living room windows, immediately catching fire. Of course they would, you'd soaked them in gasoline moments before Stan came into the room.

His eyes flick to the flames as they reach up to the ceiling, but the fire alarm wouldn't go off, you'd sabotaged it. 

"The human body can withstand 50 pounds of pressure per square inch before it starts to crush. I’ve never crushed anyone before, mind you I’ve also never been crushed." You shrug your shoulders turning back to look at him. "But I'm very interested to see what it will do to your body."

Stan utters one word. "Please."

"It's funny." You take a step closer to him, tapping your lip thoughtfully. "I didn't ask you to beg for you life, I asked you to answer a simple question."

Stan still doesn't answer. The high pitched snap of his fingers one by one breaking is sharp as you increase the pressure on his hands , like the crisp sound of a wishbone at Thanksgiving.

Stan inhales sharply, his gaze lowering to what used to be his fingers, not quite realizing what the sound was. You watch as the realization rolls across his face like thunderclouds on a stormy day, as he realizes  they have been reduced to mush beneath your powers and a scream rips from his throat, echoing through the empty hallways, but there's no one there to hear him scream. Blood swells beneath the ruined flesh, turning his skin a sickly shade of purplish-red, before oozing through the breaks in the tissue by the sharp points of what were the delicate bones of his hands.

"Ooo. That doesn't look too good buddy." You click your tongue. "You want to rethink your answer? Or do I have to do your toes to match?"

"Vogelbaum tried to tell you at the premiere." His voice is a weak growl, eyes not raising from his hands. "I tried to tell you too, but you broke my damn nose."

"Tell me what?" You hold your glowing purple hand over him like a warning prepared to crush whatever you have to, to make him speak.

He continues to look down at his ruined hands.

"Ah-ah-ah." You place a fingertip beneath his chin, feeling the stubble of his five o'clock shadow, so his gaze is now on you. "I want you to look at me."

"Ben was a manic, crazed, he needed to be replaced. He wouldn't follow orders, wouldn't listen to us. He only listened to you!" Stan spits, his eyes filled with rage and pain. "It was easy to turn the rest of the team against him. Countess was jealous of his attention on you, it was logical that she would be the one to break whatever you two had. Even Noir was easy to convince. He always was obsessed with you after you saved his life from that asshole." More blood seeps over the glass table.

You withdraw your hand from Stan's chin for a moment surprised. You knew that Countess was always trying to get between Ben and you, but the news of Noir's obsession was new.

"What do you mean Noir was obsessed with me?"

"Oh please." Stan seethes through his gritted teeth. "Did you really think that you kept losing things? Your hair ties, your underwear, your hairbrush, even that stupid fucking necklace you always wore! Noir was harder to keep out of your apartment than Ben whenever you were out of town. Not to mention he always asked to be put on the same interviews, given auditions in films you were in. Noir was always trying to get between Ben and you, but you never gave him the time of day. Do you have any idea how hard I had to work to make sure you never figured out that he kept breaking in to your apartment?"

Your body goes cold. You knew the necklace Stan was talking about, the pearl necklace that your father had given to you all those years ago, the one that you'd lost a few months before your birthday and never figured out where it went, and the one that Ben had replaced on the night he gave you everything you wanted. You had noticed some things missing, the hair-ties and hairbrush, but you thought you'd left in the hotel rooms that Vought paid for, you had no idea that Noir had been in your apartment.

Whenever he talked to you, you thought that he was being friendly, that Noir was trying to be nicer to you because the rest of the team avoided you due to your close relationship Ben, but you never imagined that he wanted to be more.

"Noir was first on board with the plan. It didn't take much to get the others to fall in line." Stan continues.

"What plan?"

"The plan to replace Soldier Boy. But it had to be handled delicately, there couldn't just be any supe that took over. It had to be someone worthy, someone who exemplified the bullshit American Ideals that Ben used to boast about in all of those ridiculous films."

"So what? You sent Ben off to fucking Russia and you replaced him with Homelander? You shoved all that American dream shit down Homelander's throat and look what you created. You created a fucking monster!"

"It wasn't supposed to be that way. Vogelbaum wanted the replacement to grow up with a mother. He saw how Ben lived with only a father's influence and he wanted a soothing reassuring person in the replacement's life."

"You're not answering my question." You snarl, your hands beginning to glow brighter as you tighten your grip on his feet, preparing to crush them into mush.

"We had the genetic material from Soldier Boy it was harder to get it from you!" Stan shouts, feeling the pressure intensify in his feet, thinking that if he answers your question you'd spare them.

You stop for a moment, tilting your head to the side. The heat from the flames on your left growing with every passing second as they spread to the other curtains on the second large window. “What are you saying?”

“Did you really think we didn’t know what you could do?" Stan almost laughs, but it comes out in a choking cough. "We knew. Your power is one of the rarest we’d ever seen. And Dr. Vogelbaum hoped that your son would have the same one, that your son would possess some quality that you had and the qualities that Soldier Boy had. The perfect weapon. The perfect supe." Stan croaks. "A supe that could adapt and walk away from death like you could. A supe that was perfectly under our control, different than Soldier Boy."

“Are you saying that Homelander is my son?” Your voice is dangerously low, no more than a snarl.

Stan swallows. “Yours and Soldier Boy.”

With those words, the bones in Stan’s feet snap loudly as they both are reduced to nothing, but crushed bone and flesh, never to be used ever again.

But his scream of pain is wiped out by the roaring in your ears as you realize what he's said, realize exactly what Vogelbaum did all those years ago, realize exactly why he asked you to come to the lab when you danced together at the premiere.

It was what you suspected, but that didn’t mean that you were any less ready to hear it. The wave of emotion that crashes over you squeezes your heart in your chest, because what kind of a monster would do that? What kind of person would take something like that from you or from anyone?

Anger, pain, shock, rage, and horror all war in your chest, grappling against your ribs, choking your next breath from your lungs, and make you feel as though your body is tearing itself apart.

You think about the hollow look in Homelander's dark eyes, remember what Hughie told you he was doing to Annie, what Hughie told you he had threatened to do, and remember what Butcher said that Homelander did to his wife. You remember how cocky and confident he was at the Twins home, how unaffected he was by the gore of the bodies on the upper levels, and remember the way he didn't seem to care that he was hurting Ben, that he killed Butcher, and then tried to kill you.

That monster is my son, is Ben's son. He's Rosemary’s brother-

You could feel the anxiety rising, threatening to rip your own heart out of your chest, but then it suddenly shifts to all encompassing rage. The entire room shakes with the force of your anger, spider cracks appearing in the drywall all around the room, the windows in the room shatter sending glass blowing outward onto the street sixty stories below the penthouse apartment, and the furniture begins to shift and slide along the floor restlessly as the flames flare bright red and orange and cause the wallpaper to curl black.

"How did you get my genetic material?" Your voice is eerily calm as you gaze at him, vision going red.

Stan looks up at you, painful tears in his eyes. "We couldn't do it when Ben was with you. He was so damn protective of you, if we tried to touch you with him around he would have torn us apart, so we had to wait for him to go shoot one of those stupid films overseas." He gasps. "Vogelbaum said that you wouldn't remember. Said that it would be just like a bad dream.

You freeze when he says that, the memory of the nightmare that had plagued you for decades flashing across your mind, every detail becoming crystal clear. The voice of Vogelbaum telling the nurses to hold you down, the smell of his breath, his face gazing down at you from between your legs with a sickening smile on his face, while you tried to clear your head, the sound of your own screams ripping from your throat as you tried to fight the drugs they pumped into your system to keep you quiet.

"Egg extraction was difficult." Stan coughs, blood appearing on his bottom lip. "You killed two nurses and two orderlies. Almost killed Vogelbaum."

"I should have." You spit savagely. "If he was here, I would make him suffer. How could you do that? How could you do something so inhuman-"

Your body doesn't feel like your own, your skin is too tight, your next breath catching in your lungs, and a shudder of absolute disgust shakes through your bones. You feel the urge to throw up, to expel whatever images you can, to purge yourself because it meant they had been inside you, touched you, defiled you in a way that they believed was justified. Disgust, shame, horror and pure uninhibited rage shift along your skin in waves crackling in the air around your body. Everything you know is a lie. Everything that you thought you knew about the past nothing more than shades of gray.

"In the name of science there is no boundary, no limit that cannot be surpassed." Stan tries to smile, but it comes off as a grimace and as soon as he opens his mouth, his entire front row of top teeth rip from his mouth and land on the glass table, flecking blood over the surface.

Stan sputters, choking on the blood, eyes widening in pain, but he continues, his voice sticking around the holes where his teeth once were. “Vogelbaum tried to tell you that night. Tried to get you to come to the lab but you refused. He wanted the subject to have a mother, a figure that he respected, a way of reigning him in-"

"You have taken everything from him!" You snarl grabbing Stan by the throat, raising him to your face. "You have denied him the right of family. You made him into something inhuman something unrecognizable-"

"We didn't do anything." Stan cannot hold on to your wrist, tries to raise his ruined hands to place them against you skin, but they only slide off leaving smears of his blood against your flesh. "You chose this. You did this to him. You denied him a mother. We tried to allow you into his life and you refused."

"Don't you dare turn this on me. What you did to my son is not my fault. You turned him into a monster because you wanted a puppet, a weapon you could control. What Homelander became is all you and Vogelbaum. It has nothing to do with me." You throw Stan back against the opposite wall. "You made damn sure of that."

He lands in a heap, tries to rise to his feet, but the ruined stumps no longer work so he props himself up against the wall,  taking shallow breaths, blood trickles down the corner of his mouth.

But Stan doesn't stay on the floor long, you raise him up, his body glowing again bright purple as he slams back into the wall, arms outstretched, legs hanging limply beneath him as he gasps for breath.

"When Butcher's wife had her son, Vogelbaum was happy he got another chance. Happy that Ryan had a mother figure to rely on, but Ryan has not turned out anywhere near as powerful as your daughter.”

Your jaw tightens as you tilt your head, fear breaking through the rage and numbness that has begun to build beneath everything else.

"What did you just say?"

"It took us years to find her, but as soon as I saw her at the art show ten years ago I knew. She's the spitting image of Ben. So we put things in motion."

"What things?" You snarl, tightening your grip on his chest so tightly that you hear the cracking of his ribs.

"Her ability to keep powers for 24 hours is unmatched. She’s almost indestructible. Almost as indestructible as you. She was so helpful in our development of our Temp V.” He exhales in one breath sharply, wincing in pain.

"What?" Shock grips you tight, holding you in place.

They used Rosemary for that? For the shit that Hughie and Butcher shoot up?

"The scientists at Vought couldn't figure out a way to temporarily give someone powers." Stan gasps. "But her blood was just what we needed to understand it."

"You took her blood?" You roar, the furniture in the room flipping back towards the door, crashing against the walls.

"She gave it to us. When I approached her she was adamant about not telling you. You were so against being a hero again and having her do anything connected to Vought.” He smiles around the holes in his mouth. "She agreed to help us if it meant leaving you alone. But-" Stan swallows again, gasping out another breath that sounds like a wheeze. "We were always watching. Always have been watching. There is no where you can escape us, no where you can go to get away from us. You think you're free?" Blood trickles over his dark lips and down his chin, but he continues to smile. "You never will be. And when your granddaughter finally develops her powers, she won't be either. Vought is already prepared for her, nothing can stop it."

Your face hardens at his mention of Lou, anger flaring deep in your soul, rational part of your mind no longer in control. There was no semblance of the control you were so proud of left.

You didn't know who you were anymore. All you knew was that this man had taken something from you, stripped you of what you were so long ago, and he would pay. Because you'd be damned if he was going to take Lou away too. If he really had already gotten to Rosemary, you'd failed her, but you wouldn't fail Lou.

You take in a breath, but the cold numbness is quickly coming to pick away at the heat of your rage, filling your chest cavity. "You've always been a snake, slithering your way to the top, choking the other people who challenged you, slimy, pathetic. You were afraid of Ben all those years. Cowered in the fucking shadows from his rage, afraid to speak, afraid that he would be your end. You were wrong Stan. You should have feared me instead. Because I am the end of you."

"Y/n please-"

But his next words are lost in the blood curdling scream that rips from his throat as his body begins to cave in on itself, the snapping of bone and the smell of blood filling the room as his limbs flatten and shrink into his body, ribcage caves in to his torso, his head crunching down into his neck until the thing that was Stan Edgar is nothing more than a soccer ball sized lump of flesh and ground bone, dropping to the ground with a sickening wet thud.

The flames lick at the walls behind you, steadily curving around the room as you stand there. Stan's blood is soaked into your hair, dripping down your cheeks, but the heady copper smell is obscured by the smoke that floods the room.

Despite it all you can't hear the sound of the flames, can't hear the sounds of the city below, can't feel the heat of the fire, can't feel the stickiness of the blood as it coats your cheeks. There's a buzzing your ears, that comes after Stan's death. An uncontrollable shudder shakes your body as you stand there in the ruined room, the cold feeling unfurling from the center of your chest like the petals of a flower. You can't feel anything, not rage, not shame, and definitely not remorse.

Because everything you know is a lie, everything you knew about Homelander, and now everything you knew about Rosemary. And if she hid that from you, what else had she lied about?

A/N: I did try to warn y'all. This chapter was a lot, and completely out of my comfort zone and I really miss writing the happy fluff 😭. But this chapter had to be done. And honestly… the reader's Homelander is showing. Somethings I think he may have inherited even though he was kept apart from her.

If you'd like to read something a little happier please try my series:

Take A Chance On Me

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist please let me know :)

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[hunnylagoon]

Right Where You Left Me

Pt 4: The Sweetest Thing to Ever Scare You (Finale)

Ellie Williams x reader

I remember when I first saw you. I remember looking into your warm almond eyes and feeling butterflies in my stomach. But soon, when I looked into your eyes, I no longer felt the same warmth that I once knew. It felt as though you had killed all of the butterflies inside my stomach but yet, I still loved you.

Premise: You and Ellie are childhood best friends until you drift apart. Funny thing about soulmates is they tend to find their way back to each other. You and Ellie try to end the tireless war between you.

Warnings: Angst / drinking / violence / not really religious mentions in this one

Part one here!

Part two here!

Part three over here!

Guys I thought I posted this two days ago but I actually just saved it to drafts. Sorry for being an idiot lmao

I think that I have unlearned how to love.

That’s not even a word but there is no other way to tell you that I have turned myself cold.

Without partying to distract me and religion to fill in gaps of emptiness, I isolate myself and begin to write once again. I'm almost certain that my body has been telling me to write, that I need to pour myself into art as opposed to a girl I was friends with a million years ago.

I figure that I need to create rather than destroy but it might take me a while to do so.

The morning after I abandoned my faith on the church floor, I had woken up and expected Ellie to be gone, however, she was wide awake and playing subway surfers on her phone. Her hair is messy and her eyes are half-lidded. 

She turns to look at me when she feels the shuffling of the bedsheets; despite her doing nothing more than smile at me it is like an understanding passed between us, war is over.

Almost.

It's like I've forgotten how to be soft, I can't manage to get the words out that I need to, and the thought of it alone makes me cringe. "Breakfast?" I ask, unsure of what else to say.

Ellie passes on it and I awkwardly excuse myself, saying that I got called in to take a brunch shift at work. Of course, this is not true. What I do is get into my car and drive and drive until I get mad at myself for burning gas. 

The war between Ellie and I had ended but it didn't register in my head, I almost fell in love with it. Without the constant arguing and passive aggressiveness, there was nothing to put a wall between us and I wasn't ready to be vulnerable again. 

So I begin to feed Ellie the ugliest parts of me; I show her everything I'm sure she will hate but she doesn't, she's patient and shows me the kindness I have been looking everywhere for. Still, I am cold to her, I don't know what else to do. 

I try to push her away all over again but this time, she doesn't let me. Ellie comes into my room when I'm studying to sit on my bed so that she can be in proximity to me. Sometimes she'll ask me if I want to go for a walk or a late-night gas station run, all of the things we used to do.

When I'm angry at her, she lets it happen, she won't escalate the fight all she does is apologize and does what she can to fix it. Everything feels like it's in order again, Joel even starts to send me little text messages to check in on me and sends me Facebook memes that make him think of me.

As of now, we are setting up for Dina's twenty-first birthday. The living room, typically a space for casual gatherings and movie nights, had undergone a transformation. Vibrant streamers adorned the walls, and an array of balloons in assorted hues scattered themselves along the floor "Are balloons too childish?" Abby asks as she walks out of her bedroom.

"They better not be after I just spent half an hour doing all of these," Cat answers, giving her a scornful glare.

"They look great, Cat," I smile and give her a thumbs-up from where I am in the kitchen dumping bags of chips into bowls. "Should I make a veggie platter?"

Cat furrows her eyebrows "If you can finish it by yourself, sure."

"Cat, we aren't children, adults eat vegetables," Abby takes a seat on the couch behind Cat, investigating the hard work she's put into making the living room look nice for just one night "Isn't it weird that Dina is organizing her own surprise party?"

I shrug, placing a wooden cutting board down on the kitchen counter "I don't blame her, I don't think we've always been one hundred percent reliable, me specifically."

"But it's not a surprise if she knows about it."

"So?" Cat asks.

"So why are we calling it a surprise party if it isn't a surprise?"

"Why not?"

"Well, why can't we just call it a party?"

"I don't think it matters," I cut in, I begin to peel carrots and slice them up into quarters. Ellie comes out of her bedroom, she took a nap after completing her physics presentation, her hair in a messy bun, and she's in her typical pyjama uniform of sweats and a hoodie. "Hey, Ellie," I smile at her.

She rubs some sleep away from her green eyes "Hey," Ellie walks over to the kitchen island where I slice and chop vegetables and sits right in front of me. Even half asleep she looks like a statue of marble carved by a skilled hand.

Abby raises an eyebrow, asking 'When did you guys become friends?' without saying it and then it hits me like the plane in Lost. Ellie still hasn't told anyone about our history, our sixteen years of friendship is invisible to the eyes of those who think they know us well.

I'm broken from my thoughts when Abby speaks up "When are you picking up the cake?"

My heart drops "I'm not?"

Cat and Abby cast one another side glances while Ellie snatches a cucumber off my cutting board "Dina was handing out duties and you said you would take care of the cake."

I freeze, unsure of what to say "Nuh-uh." I shake my head like a child denying blame for breaking her mother's favourite dish.

"Yuh-huh," Cat shoots back. "How could you forget that?"

My mind fumbles for an excuse and somehow I land on "I forgot because I went temporarily insane from Lyme disease," What am I saying? "I got Lyme disease because I go camping in secret," I don't camp "And I never told you guys that I go camping because I'm deeply ashamed of it."

Now everyone looks perpetually confused, Ellie included "What are you talking about?" Abby asks, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Okay-well," I place my knife flat on the counter by the wooden cutting board, ignoring the odd spiel I just went on "I'm going to drive to-

"You dropped your car off for a suspension repair yesterday," Abby reminds me.

"Ellie is going to drive me to get a cake," I correct myself "I will be back to finish making my veggie plate." I quickly rinse my hands before grabbing Ellie's keys from the little jewelry dish on the island and yank the sleeve of her hoodie to pull her along.

Ellie doesn't say anything, she slips into some Crocs and we walk outside to her car. "Where are we headed?"

"Uh, hang on," In Ellie's passenger seat, I go on Google Maps to look up the closest bakeries that are still open at this hour, there are two, one a couple of streets away and the other one is across town and closing in twenty minutes. "Infectious Confections," I wrinkle my nose "That's a weird fucking name."

While Ellie tries to make conversation in the car I only speak when giving her directions to the bakery. She knows something is up and I can tell by the way she keeps glancing at me. I just can't manage to get it out of my head that she's still keeping me a secret. 

She pulls up to the bakery and I get out before she even turns her car off, she pulls the keys out of the ignition and trails behind me through the doors.

The bakery itself was rustic and clean, there were two display cases and tills one of the displays held danishes, croissants, cookies, scones and whatever those little swirly flakey things are called. The other display had a big chalk menu above it that read 'Cakery' Though what was in the display case was very sparse.  

"Hi," I walk up to the till, putting on the friendly smile and customer service voice that I usually only use at work. "This is pretty short notice but I was wondering if you had any cakes left or if I could get one made for today?"

The guy behind the counter is a scrawny teenager who looks like he has had a long enough day of dealing with annoying customers "We close in half an hour, there's not enough time to bake and decorate a cake." He explains it like he's said this to a million people, he's bored of the same phrases that his manager has scripted out for him.

"Any shot that someone didn't pick up their cake?" I ask, fingers crossed in the hope that he says yes.

"Let me talk to my manager," His voice drags on, and he turns around and disappears through a commercial kitchen door. I wait patiently, hands balled together in front of me as I rock back and forth on my heels. A minute or two later he comes back holding a bright blue cake with pink detailing of bows and mustaches, there's text on it that reads 'It's a...' gender reveal cake. "This is all we have left, they cancelled last minute.

I look back at Ellie to get her opinion, her eyebrows are furrowed slightly "Maybe we good just get some of those cupcakes and smush them together and smear the icing so it looks like a cake."

I wave her off "I'll buy it," I say this only because it is 5:41 and with each passing minute I am growing desperate, also I don't want Jesse to be disappointed that I fumbled the cake and ruined his girlfriend's birthday.

Angsty teenager puts the bright blue monstrosity into a cake box and charges me an absurd total for it, I bitterly tap my card on the machine. 

As I walk back out to Ellie's car I take a brief moment to look at the sky, it's the same hue as cotton candy and looks as if it had been projected from a watercolour painting, even after I get back into the car and Ellie begins to blast her old dad rock songs, I can't tear my eyes away from it.

After five minutes of silence from my end, Ellie finally asks the question that's been burning into the forefront of her brain "Why are you being weird?"

"Why haven't you told anyone that we met before we moved in together?"

Her dark eyebrows furrow "You haven't told anyone either-

"Yes, I have."

"Who?"

"Yara, Stacy, Kayla, Mitch, Nigel, Carmen, literally everyone from my work," I admit "I just haven't told people who know you personally so it can't make its way back to you because you clearly don't want people to know."

She falls silent, searching her mind for the right words. She clutches the steering wheel tight and looks dead ahead at the car's bumper-to-bumper ahead of us. "I just know how to slip it into conversation."

"I don't think it's that hard, you can just say that we were friends, you don't need to give an intricate play-by-play of everything that happened."

"Why is it important that people know if we're cool again?"

I turn my head to slowly look at her "You are the one who always said 'If we don't have honesty, we have nothing at all'," I point out.

Silence strings between us again, I almost want to throw up.

'We're cool again' Nope, not anymore, we are so very far from cool. Instead of Ellie casting me little glances as she had on the ride there, she ignores my presence almost completely while I glare daggers at her. Was she embarrassed by me? When we went to lunch together why did she lie to Dina about where she was? When she slept in my bed why did Cat ask me if I knew why Ellie came home at eight AM with nothing, not even a key? Did she crawl through my bedroom window to walk around to the front door and pretend she was just getting home?

AND WHY DIDN'T I CALL HER OUT?

She was keeping me a secret and that realization hurt worse than any injury I had ever suffered. She hasn't even told her dead who practically raised me that we lived together. 

God, we weren't even anything and she was keeping me under wraps like I was some disgraceful secret that she would get shamed for holding. The very second she approached our house, I got out of her car, she hadn't even stopped it completely but cake in hand, I hopped out of her car door and didn't look back.

I think I've had my fair share of partying.

After that month-long bender I had where I went to clubs every night and replaced food with vodka, I never wanted to even look at another solo cup full of liquor. Instead of drinking, smoking, or doing karaoke, I hide from Ellie.

I hide from her in conversations and sometimes sneak into my bedroom just to get a bit of breathing room from all of the strangers in my house. Wherever Ellie was, I was not. If she was outside, I was inside, if she was in the living room, I was in the kitchen enjoying my veggie platter. 

Have you ever been the only sober person around in a group of people? If the answer is no, have you ever babysat a houseful of toddlers? Because it's just about the same thing.

When I'm not hiding from the girl who wriggled her way back into my good graces just to trip herself off the podium, I'm cleaning up, protecting our furniture, holding back hair as girls I've never met sob into the toilet, and stopping the drunk from doing stupid things. 

"Hey, buddy," I take my can of hairspray that this frat-adjacent man is holding behind an ignited lighter "I don't think you would look good as a burn victim," His friends moan in disappointment as I do so, they were very excited to see a makeshift flamethrower; I wasn't in the mood to have my house burn down, or have a guy with peach fuzz waste my thirty dollar hair spray. 

Thirty dollars?

Note to self for later: Make smarter spending choices (And smarter relationship choices!).

I felt a tap on my shoulder only to turn around and see Dina, she wasn't drunk, just tipsy "Smile!" She holds up a camera to her eye and clicks the shudder button before I even have a chance to react the flash goes off. A large Polaroid begins to print out, Dina snatches it and shakes it until you can see my silhouette, my eyes are wide, my hair flying behind me from the quick turn of my head and I'm holding a can of hairspray angled to look like I'm going to spray the camera with it "Cute!" She smiles, tucking it into her pocket for later "Wait, I want a group picture of the roommates."

Dina takes my hand and pulls me to one of the couches where Ellie and Abby sit with some guy, she shoes him to get up and drags Cat over to replace him, she stands me in between Ellie and Abby and lightly pushes me down to sit wedged between the two.

"Jesse, please do not do me dirty with this picture," She hands the pink Polaroid camera to her boyfriend and quickly ushers herself to the far left of the couch where she bends over to kiss Cat on the cheek for the picture. Ellie and I are stiff and awkward when the flash goes off. 

After the picture is taken, Ellue turns to face me just the slightest "Hey, I think we should talk-

"I think it's time for cake!" I push myself off the couch and usher myself to the kitchen. 

I pull the cake out of the fridge, looking at what I had done to salvage it; Below the part that said 'It's a...' I wrote '21 year old!' in chocolate pre-made Betty Crocker icing that I had in the fridge for months, it didn't look the best, but it could've been worse.

Dina, of course, cackles when she sees it. To her, it is the funniest thing she's seen all night. I stick the candles in and light it with the light I confiscated from peach fuzz frat boy and push the cake towards Dina after tucking the light back into my pocket, she is illuminated in the glow of iPhone flash all filming her.

"Make a wish!"

Age Sixteen- Grade 11

I think back to how embarrassing it felt to be thoughtful.

How fragile I felt when I would share my feelings and how frail I seem when I do it now. Ellie was always tougher than I was, in rugby, in fights, just in general. That's why I figured she would be taking it better than me when I cut contact, once again I have been proven wrong.

"Conner, can we please just leave?" I pleaded with my then-boyfriend. The night had started fine but after a couple of drinks Ellie and I were becoming increasingly hostile to one another, it wasn't my intention to speak to her but the universe forced my hand when we were shoved into a circle of our friends and made to converse around the bonfire at the beach.

The salty breeze carried the sounds of laughter and the gentle crashing of waves, the scent of roasted marshmallows wafted through the air.

 "What, you need your boyfriend's permission or something?" Ellie held a can of berry blast Smirnoff, staring into my soul from the other side of the fire, the sparks glitter through the night like fireflies. Her words don't feel too bad but they don't feel too good either.

I cast her a glare before I looked back to my boyfriend "Please?" 

He is getting perpetually annoyed with me he shrugs away from my grasp, "Fuck off, we just got here," He mutters, Conner must think I couldn't hear it. He had already downed three Bud lights and a couple of shots of cheap vodka, now he is nursing another beer in hand. 

"Excuse me?" I say, narrowing my eyes. Everyone around the fire pauses their conversation to tune into mine. "Come on," I stand up and try to pull him along so we can have a conversation away from the prying eyes of our friends.

I can't pull the mass of the 6'2 quarterback along with me but he obliges and follows me where I yank him. As I drag him along the rest of the group giggle and makes jokes along the lines of 'Trouble in paradise' but Ellie is the only one who doesn't jump back into mindless conversation, her unnerving eyes are still on me while I chew my boyfriend out by the shoreline. 

"Why do I have to leave just because you're feeling a little bummed out?" 

I'm almost floored at out someone can lack so much empathy "Because you're my boyfriend?" I can feel myself tensing up.

"Why does that mean you can't get up and leave on your own?" He defends "You begged me to come here and now I just wanna down a couple of beers and hang out with my friends."

"You've already drank like twenty!" I retort.

"It's a fucking party!" Conner says, raising his voice "It's a party and it's summer and you're seriously trying to tell me not to have fun?"

"Fuck!" I shout in frustration "Why don't you ever call me? Why can't you ever let me in?" The argument is quickly escalating "Why didn't you tell me that you kissed Tamar and why haven't you told me that you love me?"

"Because I don't."

My words fail me. I knew he didn't, I knew that he hardly even liked me. My dad had thought so highly of him, she said he was the type of guy to rescue a baby from a burning building but as I look at him now, I figure that he eats babies.

I almost open my mouth to say something different, almost, but I don't. The rest of my life might have turned out differently if I didn't, I might've been able to salvage the rotting corpse of my relationship with Ellie but I didn't. "Fine," I say, voice calm and quiet "Let's stay."

Before that night I had never really gotten drunk but the second I got back to the bonfire, I was digging through the cooler and shotgunning canned Smirnoff. "Woah," Riley laughs "Someone's finally being a bad influence."

I got myself so shit-faced that when everyone else got up to dance to the music blaring through the Bluetooth speaker, I sat by myself at the shoreline, looking bitterly out towards to ocean while the tides crash at my feet and get sucked back into the ocean. For a moment I think about jumping in and letting my lax body get washed away and sink beneath the surface until I wash up as a water-bloated corpse that some nine-year-old will find when they're beach combing.

My mouth tastes like peroxide and blood, my lungs burn with a red-hot pain. The wind is becoming increasingly harsh and I ignore the hair that is tangled into my golden hoop earrings.

"Wow, you look awful," I don't need to turn around to know who it is.

"Can you just fuck off?" I say "I don't give a shit about you, just leave me alone."

She always had to antagonize me, Ellie went out of her way to stray from the group and bother me. It had something to do with the alcohol in her system. Despite her alleged hatred for me, she takes a seat next to me regardless.

"Fuck, you're so sensitive," She scoffs "I don't know why you're dating him, I'm not even sure why you'd want to fuck him unless you're too lazy to jerk off-

My hands think before my head and I deck Ellie right in the side of her face, getting a solid hit to her cheekbone. My hand flies over my mouth "I'm sorry, I-

Ellie doesn't waste any time in lunging back at me, she pushes me down by my shoulders until my back is in the shallow of the water that moments ago just splashed at my feet and takes a swing. The impact of her punch almost knocks me sober.

I take a sharp inhale, grabbing her elbows and pulling her down to where she was the one on her back and I was the one straddling her. I land one last blow to her nose, I hear a crunch and the panic immediately sends me scrambling to my feet. My eyes go wide at the blood dripping down, her face I turn to run but Ellie is faster, she grabs me by my hair and yanks me down further into the water with her. 

"Fucking cunt!" I cry, though my scream is drowned out by the overwhelmingly loud tides crashing on the shore "Get the fuck off me!" 

Ellie is better at fighting than I am, I had never been on this side of her before, usually, I had been the one to drag her away from fights but now I am the one who is going to stumble home numb from the devastating pain.

Frankly, I'm fucking scared.

She continues to drag me by my hair until I'm knee-deep in the water with her, she almost throws her entire weight into me, dunking me beneath the surface where her bony hands snake around my neck. My eyes have gone blurry with the salt water, they sting and burn. I can't see anything, all I can do is uselessly thrash beneath her. My hands push against her face, trying to pry her off my body. 

Eventually, I manage to claw her face with my fingernails, I dig deep enough that it breaks skin and she recoils just enough for me to knee her in the stomach and let me get out from under her. Just as I try to slip away she reaches for my hair again, but instead of tugging on my hair, she rips out my gold hoop earring. I screech out in agony, hand reaching for where the metal sliced through the lobe of my ear, I shudder in pain; my cries are now jagged and harsh.

This is the exact moment Ellie begins to regret what she's done. "Fuck, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to." Her tone softens and she tries to approach me but I back away from her like a frightened dog.

"Get away from me!" Despite the pain surging in my body, I find the strength in me to hit her again, she staggers back tripping into the water. I hit her so hard that I feel a crack in my knuckle and I yelp out in the immediate shock of pain. 

I wasn't sure when the others had noticed this was happening probably because my vision had gone blurry from salt water and adrenaline but before Ellie could hit me again, she was being restrained by Riley and Kennedy while some guy who I had probably had two conversations with dragged my back to shore.

I keel over on my hands and knees and begin to start retching onto the sand. Laila rubs a gentle hand on my back, my hair sticking wet on my forehead. A seagull, disturbed by the commotion, took flight, its wings cutting through the charged air. 

Next to the pile of vomit I just heaved, blood drips down from my ear, pooling and then soaking into the sand. My neck swells from what is still the raw sensation of Ellie closing her hands around it. 

I look up at Ellie, there is blood that has dripped its way into her mouth, clinging to her white teeth. She has what almost looks like a cat scratch running down her cheek, blood begins to prick and spill from the lacerations.

She stares back at me and we don't say a word but we understand each other clearly, I never want to see you again.

"Let's go," Ellie grabs my arm as Dina begins to slice the cake "We're gonna fix this right now."

"Ellie, there are so many people here," I say in a hushed tone so people can't hear me.

"I don't mean here," She looks at me, face expressionless "Just get in my car."

"Excuse me?" I say, tone accusing "Did you just order me to get in your car?"

"Fuck," She sighs, dropping my wrist to rub her hands down her face "Please can you get in my car so we can work this through."

"There's nothing to work through," I retort "You're embarrassed by me or you still secretly hate me and that's fine, I meant what I said on winter break about the lease, the second it's up, I'm getting the fuck out of here."

"What? No, don't- just," She takes a breath, reevaluating what to say "I have a point to make but I can't make it unless you get in my car."

We stare at each other for a moment, I narrow my eyes and she is still unmoving. Every scenario runs through my head of what could be waiting for me in that car.

"Fine."

I sit silently in her passenger seat, my knees are pulled into my chest and I rest my chin on them. Ellie doesn't say anything either as she drives. I watch each traffic light pass me, every street name to try and make sense of where we are going.

I almost feel like I'm going to suffocate beneath the silence of everything going left unsaid.

When I spot the boardwalk up ahead, I know exactly where she's taking me "Ellie, why are we at the beach?" I give her a side glance "Do I need to take out my earrings?"

Heat rises to her cheeks when I say this, "Not yet," She jokes, getting out of her car and grabbing a tote bag from the back seat, and I follow in tow.

We walk past the boardwalk and onto the sandy beach, I'm already not feeling whatever she's doing; there is sand filling up my Converse and a slight wind chill, I'm really wishing I had a hoodie right now. "Can you tell me what we're doing yet?" I'm hugging myself in an attempt to stay warm "If we're still walking on the beach why couldn't we have just walked on the boardwalk instead? It literally has walk in the name." I'm already going off on one of my tangents.

She still walking ahead of me but she briefly turns around to face me "Can you just stop asking questions for a minute?"

"Okay, whatever," I mutter, trailing behind her still. I can hardly see in the night, the only light to guide us is the moon and the warm ceiling lamps from restaurants along the boardwalk. I can vaguely see Ellie's silhouette, she's outlined by the gentle glow radiating off the moon, I try my best not to stumble over things poking out of the sand that have been lost to sight by darkness. 

"Okay," Ellie stops, "Here we are."

"Where are we?" I ask "I can't see shit, I don't know where here is."

Ellie digs around in her pocket for her phone and turns on a flashlight and it reveals a small iron firepit that was cemented into a slab of concrete in the sand. She hands me her phone so I can keep the flash on her and she can see what she's doing. 

She pulls out some pages ripped out from her notebook "Can you hand me your lighter?"

My eyebrows furrowed, and I felt around in my pocket wondering if I even had one. I did, it had slipped my mind that I still had the bic lighter that I confiscated from Peach Fuzz. I hand the lighter to her and watch as she tucks the pages beneath logs that were in the firepit before we arrive, they are somewhat charred but still viable.

She flicks the lighter to ignite it and the paper catches immediately. The initial flicker grew into a tentative blaze, licking at the edges of the kindling. The crackling sound echoed through the night. 

Once she is sure the fire can survive without her feeding it, she steps away. "Alright, let's have it out."

"Like sex?" I scrunch up my nose.

"Oh my god, no, like let's talk this through." She pinches her nose bridge, taking a breath in before exhaling and putting her hand back down "We're gonna recreate the night of the bonfire how it should've been," Ellie reached back into her bag and pulled out two white claws "I snagged these from Dina's party, sorry this was kind of last minute."

I can't help the smile that grows on my face, I take one of the white claws and crack it open "I don't know how authentic this is gonna be if there isn't any canned Smirnoff."

I think back to exactly how that night played out and I take a seat on the sand, facing the crashing dark ocean. I sip my white claw, as expected Ellie takes a seat next to me, just what happened on the actual night.

"Wow," She says "You look really pretty and I'm an idiot for ever saying you looked awful," Ellie looks gorgeous illuminated by the orange light of the fire, and the breeze causes her flyaway hairs to drift in the wind. "I'm an asshole for pretending that I didn't know you, I was scared I would get hurt again and take it to heart like I did last time. I promise the second we get home that I'll come clean."

I don't know if I can deal with this sugary philosophy. She's being so sweet that it's rotting my teeth.

"Ellie," I say gathering my thoughts, it was so hard being honest with my feelings, it felt like I would get hospitalized if I showed any emotion. "I was so in love with you in high school that it killed me, and I was terrified that my parents would throw me out well, they did- but that's why I pushed you away and there isn't a day that goes by where I don't regret it." 

The surprise on her face morphs into a soft smile "What about now?" she asks "Do you still love me?"

I shrug, it's honest "I dunno, but I think there's room to try."

She looks from me to the ocean and the way the moonlight glitters off the surface "What happened next?" Ellie toys with the tab of her drink "Did you hit me?"

"Yeah," I say softly, following her gaze out to the waters "But if we're doing the night how it should've been, I'd rather just kiss you."

Ellie turns her head back to look at me. She shoves her white claw into the sand then takes my face into one of her hands and kisses me like it's her job, so tender and carefully like she's afraid I will break beneath pressure.

How weak have I become? My heart is so full of her that I can hardly call it my own.

A/N: Be grateful for this ending because I was very tempted to give you guys an unhappy one. Sorry that I forgot to post this lol, I’m sad this series is over but excited to show you all my next one which may be the angst-iest yet 👀

Thanks for reading!

Tag list: @elliesaturnsoftdrink @elliesaesp @melanie-watermelon @yalaysbee @laundrybag29 @readbydayana @skylerwhitwyo @lmaoo-spiderman @joliettes @kittnii @taylorgracies @sameenatruther @mikellie @belles-hell @fullmachinegirl @eveshyper @whosmica

[colorquest]

~☆~

...

D(ebbie): HEYYYYYYY SAMANTHA!!!!!! V(ilmr): Hiiii!

S(amantha): Hehe, hi Debbie, hi Vilmr. S: Can you see me alright? D: Yeah I can see you, and that smelly boy behind you too. V: I can smell him from here. D: YEAH bleuch! We can smell him from here!!! M(ichael): --Oh! M: Oh jeez, when you said you were gonna call I didn't think you meant like, right away-- D: SAMANTHA can you see us? S: Yes, we can see you too Debbie.

M: Hey you two! M: What's up? D: Oh my gosh he doesn't even know what's up!!! D: Don't you know what day it is?! M: Oh, uh...! M: The... eleventh? V: The twelfth actually, on the other side of the world. D: Yeah DUH. M: I-- I didn't think that was relevant? D: Omfggggg nnnnnnnOTHING. D: You. D: Know. D: NOTHING............... V: It's the twelfth where it's happening right now! V: That's the whole reason we're calling! S: Michael, there's a full eclipse happening soon, remember? S: It's all we've been hearing about for weeks now. M: Oh! M: Shoot, that's tonight? D: Um, uh-durrrr? M: The sun's already setting though :/ M: Too bad we won't be able to see it... V: Aht! D: YEAH AHT AHT! D: That is where you are wrong! S: Michael, Debbie says she's found someone who's streaming the eclipse, all the way from Wootosh. M: Woah, what? M: How did you even manage to access something like that? D: Yeah I mean whatever, you know? D: Only took me all day to find but whatever, like, I have my sources, no big deal. S: It's very exciting, Debbie.

M: Actually Vilmr, I'm surprised you aren't with Maja right now while this is going on. M: An eclipse definitely sounds like it'd be important to her, right? V: Guuuhhhhhh, don't remind me. V: She has been trying to get a hold of me for nearly an hour now. D: Yeah and she can live, it's not like you're the one who believes in that junk. D: Literally no reason for you to be over there. V: Yeah but... it could be one of those times where it's really serious for her. V: She is going to be sooo mad when I get home. V: Maybe I really should get back soon. D: UMMM??? D: No, you're basically an adult now, you're like 18 you can do what you want. S: I don't even think you could make it in time if you left now, Vilmr. S: That's a pretty long walk... D: Yeah it's a long walk! D: So literallyyyyyy, just stay here. D: Don't stress your head all up about what she might or might not be thinking. V: Buh... D: ANYWAY.

[[ Debbie sends a link to the livestream ]]

D: There's the stream Samantha. S: yey -v- S: Michael, are you gonna watch with us?

M: Heck, why not. M: As long as this isn't illegal or anything, right? M: Haha... M: ...Right? S: I dunno about that. M: S: *yawn* S: Debbie? D: Okay Wootosh doesn't own the eclipse, first off. D: So freaking WHAT if it's an orc who set it up or whatever. D: And second, I dug deep to find this stream and NONE of you are gonna chicken out about it. D: And nobody's gonna FALL ASLEEP BEFORE IT HAPPENS EITHER, SMUMANTHA... S: Michael's here to make sure I stay awake, don't worry Debbie. M: Haha, yeah. D: yeah okay sure. V: Hey actually, it sort of doesn't make sense for me to even be here? V: I just realized this? D: Yes it does IT DOES MAKE IT SENSE. D: IT'S THE MOOD. D: IT'S THE VIBES. D: Even if you can't see it you still get to say you were there......... V: But... I'm literally not? D: FIGURATIVELY. D: Open your mind Vilmr. D: Or your third eye or whatever Maja would want you to have open-- whatever! D: You're STAYING HERE DOSH GARNIT. V: I don't plan on going anywhere, I'm just saying!!! V: Åh, Maja förlåt mig...

M: So um, is it supposed to be so grainy? D: Yeah I guess. D: I dunno. D: That's just how I found it. S: It looks like it still has a little while before it starts. V: It starts at 7:15 tonight. D: Sooooo we got like half an hour to kill then. V: Killing the hours away is what we do best, is it not? D: So true. D: That being saiiiiiid...

D: Samantha! D: Michael. D: What are you guys up to, huh? V: ...? D: What's up. D: Over at Michael's place to day huh? D: What's that about? D: Huh? M: Oh, I invited her over, she was home alone and...-- S: ......... M: Samantha, hey, don't fall asleep just yet, haha... D: Samantha I see you falling asleep. D: Samantha. D: MICHAEL WAKE HER UP BETTER SHE'S GONNA MISS THE-- S: *snort* S: mh-- S: Sorry, I'm here... S: What did you say, Debbie? D: Nevermindddddddd, just like-- D: BRRRBBRBTGGRRNGHBRRR....... D: Come on, let's just chat. D: Like let's just keep ourselves occupied, okay. D: Like we gotta see this, when is the next time we're ever gonna see something like this??? V: Uh like, four or five years from now I'm pretty sure. V: If I remember what Maja told me at least. D: And what about it??? D: That's like. FOREVER from now. D: WE COULD BE DEAD BY THEN. M: Oh jeez, I hope not...! D: LIVE IN THE NOW!!!!!! S: Debbie you're getting me so hyped up, hehe... D: GOOD! D: LET'S GET HYPE ABOUT IT AND STAY AWAKE ABOUT IT AND STUFF!

~☆~

You can dictate the flow of these four friend's conversation. Find out how by clicking here.

🔆

[o-sachi]

Roses and Thorns ‧₊˚ ⋅ One Shot (Request)

ଳ you always wondered what what his tattoo meant... and now you know

ଳ character; michael kaiser (bllk)

ଳ tags; angst, more angst, but comfort at the end, depiction of Kaiser's trauma, no y/n, gn reader

Roses naturally came in colors of red, pink, yellow...

But never blue.

Yet, that was the same flower that adorned his arm. From his neck and down to the back of his hand, a beautiful blue rose littered his pallid skin. You always thought it was a captivating tattoo and in many ways—it was what made Kaiser... Kaiser.

Throughout your relationship, your perception of him changes and so does your idea about what his tattoo might mean. You could have asked him directly why he had it done, but where's the fun in that?

You liked the mystery and besides, he never talked about it in the first place.

That led you to think that it was one of those tattoos that people get on a whim. Not all tattoos had a deep meaning—sometimes it's just cool to look at.

Kaiser doesn't seem like the sentimental type after all. The only thing he probably cared about in this world was football and hopefully... you.

However, that view changed the longer you've been together. After seeing more sides to him, you realized how naive and insensitive it was to box him as the kind of person who had no capability to feel deeply for anything else.

The world may know him as an arrogant prodigy, but only you knew everything else behind that. You knew the tireless dedication he had to the sport—spending many restless nights watching replays of previous matches. You knew the vulnerable Kaiser whenever he'd spend weeks away from you—missing you all the way from his fancy hotel room.

But even then, you still had no idea what his tattoo meant. In fact, the more you got to know the true Kaiser, the more doubtful you became of the countless theories you've conjured up about his ink.

Nevertheless, you were firm in your belief that you knew him inside and out. The tattoo could remain a mystery for all you cared.

But roses always came with thorns and you had to learn the hard way.

It had been a couple of weeks since you've last seen each other. Being a football superstar was cruel. What people don't see behind the glamour are all the lonely nights he spends away from your arms.

As soon as he saw you standing in the doorway of your shared condo, he instinctively wrapped his arms around you. He swayed you side-to-side, inhaling your scent that had dulled in his memory after all this time being apart from each other.

After being absent for so long, all he wanted was to sit back and relax with you—no fancy dinners or grand dates. None of that. All he wanted was to be cooped up in your arms until he fell asleep, only to wake up again in the morning.

You indulge him, of course. You wanted it too anyway.

Both of you were now sat on the sofa. It was one of those L-shaped sofas you'd see in home magazines. They were large, but the space was wasted on the two of you since you'd much rather be cramped together in a suffocating embrace. It was better that way.

You absentmindedly traced the black stems of his tattoo as you held him—as you always did. Although, it was a bit odd. Normally, at this point he'd be going in and out of sleep—fighting back the drooping of his eyelids so that he could keep talking to you.

But he was wide awake.

"You don't seem tired tonight huh?"

He huffs out. "Chugging 2 energy drinks after lunch wasn't the best idea."

"Seriously? 2? What for?" you asked, a bit puzzled.

"I figured it would give me enough energy to at least hang out with you a bit before dozing off again, but I miscalculated. That shit was strong..."

Oh... How can you be mad now?

You could only chuckle at his thoughtfulness. "We could always catch up in the morning, y'know? It's not like I'm gonna disappear."

"Eh, still," he retorts, stubborn as ever. "We haven't had a movie night in a long time anyway."

He a had point. Back then movie nights were frequent. Both of you loved it—chilling, eating popcorn, and watching a good flick before bed.

It was good timing. Before his long-awaited arrival, you had been planning on how to surprise him in little ways. You wanted to keep him on his toes and it just so happens you figured out a way to spice up movie night.

You downloaded a bunch of old romantic German movies. It would be a lot different from the usual movies that you'd watch, but he might appreciate watching a movie from his own country. He had a preference for English movies, that much you knew. It was the only thing he'd watch for some unknown reason.

Excited—you hopped off the couch at lightning speed, ready as ever to retrieve the hard drive with all your downloads. As soon as you set everything up, you were back in your earlier position with him on the sofa.

"What's up with the hard drive? You forgot to pay for your streaming account?"

You shook your head with a smile. "No, I just have a surprise~"

"Surprise huh?" A small smile formed on his face at the thought. What could be so surprising about a movie?

The film starts off with a pitch black screen before a soft song filters in. He quickly recognized that it was German—it was a German love song.

He only needed to hear that to know what the "surprise" was.

Kaiser bit his lower lip in anticipation, not that you knew what exactly he was anticipating in the first place.

He wanted to be wrong—so wrong. He hoped that he wouldn't have to see her. The woman with beautiful long blonde hair and piercing blue eyes... the woman who most resembled him.

His mother.

But fate had a funny way of curbing expectations because she was right there on screen, smiling at him.

How cruel was it that the movie you chose—out of all the German movies out there—it had to be this one.

You were quick to notice the resemblance too. The eyes... the smile... they were practically the same. Perhaps he was aware of it too with how he stiffened in your grasp.

But before you could point it out, he had excused himself. "I'll just go to the bathroom for a sec... don't wait up for me."

The sudden change of the air around him was one thing, but for him to let the movie playing without him was another. He'd always ask you to pause it if he had to leave even for a millisecond.

...Did you do something wrong?

Worry filled you to your bones. It was unusual, sure. Maybe you were overthinking it. But the longer you stayed alone on the sofa—in the darkness of the room—the less you believed that you were being melodramatic.

Maybe there was something wrong with the way he turned rigid upon seeing that woman. Maybe there was something wrong about the way he abruptly stood up and left.

Your thoughts got the best of you and you decided to check up on him. In his haste, Kaiser forgot to lock the door. So, there you were—standing by the door and staring at him.

There was something definitely wrong with the way he clutched the bathroom sink as he breathed raggedly.

You could see how his fingers turned white as he gripped his arm, almost as if clawing at the rose etched on his arm.

"What's wrong?"

Your voice snapped him back to reality. Truthfully, he didn't know what was wrong. He thought he had gotten over it all—how his mother left him and how his father treated him. But he was wrong.

There was a reason he avoided those kinds of films. He was scared she'd pop up... looking happy.. acting happy—in a world where she didn't have to be concerned with her own son.

But that's precisely it. He chose to run away from it all instead of confronting it. So now that he was faced with her after all this time of avoiding anything that evoked the concept of her—he broke down.

And he hated that he had to do it in front of you.

But it was involuntary. Nothing could have prepared him for this.

His silence told you enough—all you had to know was that he needed your embrace. To which, you indulge him again.

You cautiously made your way over to him, hovering your arms around him at first before finally pulling him into you. The air stilled around you and time stopped for a moment. Neither of you moved a muscle or spoke a word—feeling content to stay like this for however long.

Eventually, he let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding. He turned around to face you, unbothered if you had to see how glassy his eyes became or if his mouth was fixed in a frown.

All this suspense caused a pit to form in your stomach. Your chest felt hollow and your hands were clammy. If he stayed silent another second longer, the water works would've kicked into high gear.

"Sorry... did I scare you?" he asked while tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

Sniffling a bit, you wiped your eyes as if tears have already rolled down—though, it definitely felt as if it had. "I... no, I was just worried about you. What's wrong? Please tell me."

The way you pleaded at him clenched his heart painfully. Kaiser pulled you in, planting your face into his chest. His hand caressed your hair with his chin poking the top of your head as he embraced you softly.

"Do you believe in the impossible?" he asked.

All train of thought stopped in an instant. You didn't like that this confrontation you were having was slowly turning into one of those philosophical discourse about the meaning of life and whatnot. All you wanted to know was what happened to him—plain and simple.

"That woman on the screen," he continued. "That was my mother."

The normal reaction would be shock, but it made sense. Perhaps this wasn't developing into that philosophical discourse you dreaded.

"Back then I thought I'd never have to see her in person. Maybe in one of her films, but in the flesh? I would only dream of it. But then..." he chuckles, reminiscing of the past. "Not long after that thought... I came across her on the street. Well, more like I was loitering and she was surrounded by fans while she made her way into a hotel."

His expression dropped at the recollection of such a bittersweet memory. "She never looked my way. She only smiled at the people vying for her attention. But it's funny isn't it?"

You had no idea what was so humorous about it. The revelations were coming too quick for you to let it all sink in. Silence was the only response available from you.

"Then, a week after that, the police took me away from my father." He lets out a stifled laugh out of disbelief. "And back then I thought I'd never get away from him."

"The impossible always seems to happen," he adds.

His past was just too sad, almost like it was taken from a sappy telenovela. But the fact that it was real rendered you speechless. All you could do was hug him tighter to show him that you were still with him.

With an ear to his chest, you could hear how his heartbeat went from erratic to steady. Letting that all out had calmed him down, thankfully. You felt yourself growing relaxed as well. Your eyes wandered to his arm—to the rose that entangled his limb.

To answer his question earlier—no, you didn't believe in the impossible. It's called impossible for a reason. But the sincerity in his voice had you thinking otherwise.

Blue roses... those are impossible too, you thought to yourself as your eyes trailed his tattoo. It could be another one of your silly theories, but the coincidence was hard to deny.

His hands stopped caressing your head, choosing to find purchase on your lower back instead. This prompted you to look up at him and the sheepish smile on his face.

"And..." he started again. "I thought it would be impossible for me to be loved..."

"Yet, here you are."

[🐟]: HELP THIS IS SO CHEESY I'M SORRY. THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SHORT BUT I GOT CARRIED AWAY.

ε( ε ˙³˙)ɜ ｡° ⚬ ｡ likes and reblogs are appreciated

pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

o-sachi © 2024

[theminecraftbee]

situation ask game: joe hills for 16?

16. Meeting past/future self

"Howdy!" Joe Hills says.

"Howdy!" Joe Hills says back. "This seems to be quite the predicament."

"Oh god, there are two of them," whispers Doc. He'd just wanted to check on the log shop, man. Joe had said something about fixing some redstone (inherently terrifying to hear), and he'd just wanted to come check on it and inevitably fix the fixed redstone, and now there are two of them.

"I have to say," the first Joe Hills--presumably, the original one, given that he's insisting on saying everything through that stupid hand puppet he made this season, although Doc couldn't tell you--says. "I'm fairly certain seeing my own ghostly visage is normally considered a bad sign in most literature. Luckily, this isn't literature, so I can ignore the ill portent."

"Alas, I am, in fact, a bad omen," the second Joe Hills says, all too cheerfully. The second Joe Hills does not have a hand puppet and appears by all measures to be a ghost. Doc would generally agree that's a bad sign too, except for the fact that the Joe he knows is a ghost about fifty percent of the time, and oh no, he's already confused. There are two of them and he's already confused.

Maybe he should go get some coffee. The cafe Cleo set up is supposed to be good, and if he's this confused, maybe he'll manage to get himself to walk past the cats before he remembers he's supposed to be scared.

"Oh no," Doc's Joe says. "I don't have time for bad omens. For one, I'm not any good at killing pillagers. For another thing, I'm busy. See I was trying to help and I accidentally broke Doc's redstone and I feel bad because I think he's like, actually for-real mad about it, not fake mad, and we're supposed to be business partners, right, so I thought I'd come here and fix the redstone. Except then when I was hanging out with Mumbo at the end of our setup confessional Mumbo mentioned something and I just now remembered it and I think I fixed it wrong, so I'm here to try to figure that out, and that means I really don't have time for a bad omen."

"We never do," the ghost Joe says, shaking his head.

Doc, weirdly, feels touched.

"So if you could go away and give me dire warnings later--"

"Sorry, I don't have time to be put off for later! If you put this off for future Joe, you're putting this off to me! Then I'll have to do this all over again, and it'll be a closed time loop. Or, I guess mostly closed, because I don't remember this. But maybe you hit your head and forget everything! I don't know! I don't know how time travel works, but closed time loops were always the really confusing ones because they try to make sense. If we don't try to make sense you might still be able to change things."

"Oh no. What if this is a self-fulfilling prophecy?"

"I hadn't considered that," the ghost Joe says.

"I mean, everything I've ever read says that in trying to avert catastrophe, I am likely to accidentally cause it!" Doc's Joe says.

"Maybe the solution is for you to not believe my warnings?" the ghost Joe says. "No, that always ends badly too. That means there's dramatic irony!"

"Right, right. Maybe you just have to be as clear as possible, so I can't misinterpret your words?"

"No, I think the solution is to be vague," the ghost Joe says. "Good prophecies are normally vague that way. I mean, I'm mostly just here to tell you how to avert the nasty end of the world that kills everyone super dead, not anything too complicated! If I put too many details in, I'll leave in a dramatically appropriate loophole by accident, and then you'll never manage it."

"True, but Cleo says that I should always be given exact instructions, or I'll do the wrong thing on purpose," Doc's Joe says.

"We do that even more with exact instructions."

"That is true! And I guess it's harder to remember exact instructions?"

"Maybe the solution, given that I am going to vanish back to the past in five minutes," the ghost Joe says, "is that I should simply write down my instructions. That will make them harder to misremember or misinterpret."

"I will lose those too! This is too much responsibility!"

"I know! That's what I said!" ghost Joe says. "I said, why are you asking me. I mean I know the ghost thing is the only reason I can do this, but I don't want this kind of responsibility! I am not trustworthy! You all have known this since, like, day one, stop putting this kind of stressful responsibility on me! I do weird things when I'm stressed! I mean, I'm always stressed--"

"That's true, we are," Doc's Joe interjects.

"--but this is even more stressful than that! If I thought anyone else could do it, I would have said no! And now I don't know how to--"

"Man, if the world is going to end and kill all of us, stop worrying and just say how," Doc says, stepping out of his hiding place and throwing up his hands. "You're wasting time!"

"Oh, you're right," ghost Joe says. "So, the world will end when--"

He vanishes.

Doc and Doc's Joe stare after ghost Joe into the distance. Finally, Joe, with the world's most betrayed expression, turns to Doc.

"You scared me off!" he says. "If you hadn't shown up I'm sure I would have explained eventually."

"WHAT," Doc says as calmly as possible back. It does not appear to appease the Joe he's left with at all.

[drdemonprince]

What if your unmasked self is unacceptable even to other autistics? I feel like if I don't carefully curate myself I'm too weird and annoying to sustain friendships even with other weirdos. This thing where unmasking makes people like you more because it's more ~authentic~ just hasn't been true for me and it makes me really sad.

Well, what does "weird" and "annoying" mean in this case? In unmaskers I frequently see a lot of understandable social trauma playing out in, let's just say, not the most socially effective of ways at times. No longer mindreading and people pleasing and fawning is all to the good; becoming completely unfiltered while still harboring a ton of deep-seated fear of abandonment and then spilling it out all over people will understandably drive them away. No longer faking emotions and tone of voice preserves energy and helps us feel more genuine, but never putting any energy into trying to understand a friend's interests or emotions will kill a friendship.

There is a messy counterbalancing that has to occur for many unmaskers; at first we focus on never doing anything false and allowing our unbridled selves to roam free -- and then we often recognize that we will need certain self-advocacy, listening, communication, and even diplomacy skills to actually relate to other people, even while remaining true to who we are.

It's normal for the unmasking process to initially seem like it's making you harder to love, more annoying, more bizzaree -- that's a necessary corrective to having previously aimed to make yourself unremarkable or widely liked.

But if you find yourself repeatedly socially alienating even out and proud neurodivergent people, it may be worth asking whether you are taking actions that are pushing them away. Things like interrupting people when they are trying to open up to you, invalidating their feelings, seeking reassurances that no other person can provide, not interacting, self-victimizing, just generally hurtful interpersonal stuff that us traumatized folks sometimes do even in community with one another. If this is the case, you will have to work on accepting the feedback when people are kind enough to tell you that you're bothering them or disrespecting them -- it is not the end of the world, it is a habit you can notice and correct.

Or you might just still be withdrawing and inhibiting very hard, and doing self-protective things that convey to others that they should give you a wide berth. Lots of unmaskers give off really strong "dont talk to me dont come up to me i feel socially unsafe right now" vibes that are completely honest and authentic to where they are at the moment, even if they wish they could seem more welcoming. Please give yourself some grace to feel all that if that's what it is.

No one is too weird or too annoying to make friends. But you might need to find the people who are weird enough and mad enough and disabled enough for you. Alternatively, you might have some interpersonal baggage that affects how you treat others you still need to work on. Or your internalized disability stigma might just be telling you that youre being too much when youre barely taking up social space at all.

You know your pattern of experiences and the feedback others have given you, so hopefully you can sort out what is currently missing in your social life based on that and some reflection and more testing. Good luck and let me know what you figure out.

[baldval]

ART DECO PART 2!₊˚⊹♡

characters: valentino x gn!reader

wc: 1.7k

warnings: cursing, canon!valentino (he doesn't mind vox's bad actions towards other people), insanely angsty.

series masterlist!

You're half awake and disorientated. Valentino got up to find out who was at the door 10 minutes ago, and frankly, you're getting worried.

Against your better judgement, you throw on his shirt from the night before and make your way out of the bedroom.

You enter the living room to be met face to face with Vox.

Shit.

You briefly wonder if you can play it off, fabricate a story, tell him it's not what it looks like!

Apart from, it's exactly what it looks like.

Someone from Vox's assistance team saw you and Val enter his room together after the meeting. And now you're here, in his living room, wearing nothing but his shirt. And your shoes are by the front door. And there's a wine glass abandoned on the counter.

There's no getting out of this one.

Valentino wants to scream, yell at you to go back to his room. He wants to pick you up and throw you out of sight, praying Vox hasn't noticed all the tell tale signs. But it's too late. He has.

"Okay. Uh - what the fuck is going on?"

Vox asks the question while looking between the two of you like some sort of cartoon character doing a double take. It doesn't require a genius to figure it out, but he needs to hear one of you say it out loud.

"Listen, Vox-"

"Vox, don't get mad-"

You both speak at the same time, verbally tripping over each other. You've never actually discussed what you'd do or say if you got found out. You both just always naively assumed it wouldn't happen.

You sit down on the edge of the couch, and look at your boss earnestly.

You had earned his respect with all the years you'd been working for him, creating and animating shows for the Vees.

However, you knew it could all disappear.

It would be a lie to say you didn't see it coming, what was true is that you weren't ready for it.

"Vox, I'm not going to sit here and lie to you. It isn't fair. But you can't get mad when I tell you the truth."

"I'll be the judge of that," he mutters sassily.

"Will you come and sit with me, please? The standing is making me nervous. I feel like I'm on trial."

"You might be. I haven't decided yet."

You can't tell if he's joking. He's certainly not smiling.

Vox moves to sit down next you. Val follows, perching himself on the opposite end to give you space. Close enough if you need him, far enough that it won't upset your boss more.

"Start talking," he commands, still confused.

"It's... well I - we - me and Valentino, we're -"

"Together," Val finishes for you. Vox glares at him, and he decides he'll keep his mouth shut for a while.

"Yeah, we're together," you continue. "We have been for over a year. It isn't just sex, or anything. I'm like- in love with him."

It's weird to finally bear this truth after keeping it a secret for so long. It feels wrong, but also refreshing - like a bitter lemon on a hot day.

Vox is scarily silent.

"You're... kidding, right?" he asks, finally breaking through the quiet.

Your silence is enough answer for you as he looks at you incredulously.

"You're so fuckin' naive." He turns over to Valentino. "How can you sit here and act like this doesn't change anything?"

Val tries to speak, but he continues.

"You lied to me, first off. Both of you. For God knows how long-"

"Vox-"

"Let me fucking finish."

You shrink back into the couch, hoping it would swallow you.

"You both lied to me. You broke my trust... and uh, that fucking hurts, actually. And then there's the business side of things. They work for me, they work for the Vees. And, I don't know if you remember, but you are a Vee. That's a conflict of interest."

Val scoffs at him, but then realises he's deadly serious.

"... A conflict of interest?"

"It's against company policy. How am I going to trust you? How is anyone? Information might get leaked. What if I tell you something, and then you tell them?" He points over to you. "And then they tell whoever friends they have, and they post about it on social media, and all of a sudden nothing is private anymore. I. Can't. Trust. You."

Tears are welling up in your eyes quicker than you can control. You're trying to take deep breaths, begging yourself not to cry in front of Vox.

"You do get this is my life right? I get to choose whoever I date," Val whispers.

"Yeah? Well, it's my life. And they're MY worker. And I get to choose whatever I'll do to them."

A choked sob escapes you, and the floodgates open. Fresh, hot tears sprint down your cheeks, landing in your lap.

Vox doesn't care about your suffering, he just wants to punish Valentino through you.

Val can't stand to sit and watch any longer.

"Okay, Vox, that's enough. This isn't fair."

"What's not fair is that two of people I trust the most both lying to my face for a year. That's what isn't fucking fair."

With that, Vox stands up and strides towards the front door, slamming it behind him as he leaves. The minute he's gone, Valentino is wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his chest.

"It's okay, darling," he murmurs, stroking your hair. "He'll come around. We'll be okay. If we stick together, we'll be okay."

His reassurances are only making you cry harder, sobs escaping you uncontrollably. You eventually exhaust yourself, falling into a restless sleep in Val's arms on the couch.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You wake up in bed. You've temporarily forgotten the events of the morning, before it all comes crashing back down around you suddenly. Distantly, you can hear Valentino in the kitchen, talking on the phone. You look around the room, and know what you have to do.

You leave the bedroom with a bag in hand, throwing it onto the ground as you grab your shoes. Val clocks you, and hangs up the phone.

"Can I call you back? Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow."

He runs over to where you're slipping your heels on, precariously balanced against the side of the couch.

"Honey, where are you going?" he questions, panic washing over him at your frantic state. "Wait, have you packed a bag?"

He's trying to catch your eyes, but you keep looking away, desperate to avoid his unrelenting gaze.

"I'm going home."

A pause.

"... This is your home."

You knew he'd say that. It hurts just the same.

"No, Valentino, this is your home. My apartment is across town."

"You haven't been there in months. All your stuff is here. Baby, talk to me. What's going on? Did Vox get in your head?"

"He has a point!" you shout, trying to pick up your bag. Val gets there first and grabs it, flinging it behind him, out of your reach.

"About what? He's just in shock, baby! He's confused and he feels betrayed. You don't owe him fuckin' anything. Not after everything that he has put you through."

"But I love my job, Val. I can't lose everything I've worked so hard to achieve!"

"You love that piece of shit job? Yesterday you literally had to get up at 6 am just to get here and get yelled at for an hour and a half. Look- I love Vox but he's not a good boss. Hell! I don't even care about that, I just can't stand to see him abuse you and treat you like you're close to nothing. You're better off without him and you know it. You're just too attatched to what you have."

Subconsciously, you know he's right. You're trying to convince yourself he isn't.

"You don't get it though."

"Except I do. Do you think I don't know about Vox's methods? I understand that it's what he needs to do to get the job done, but... I just can't stand him treating you like that."

"You heard what he said! He won't trust you anymore. No one will. Besides, I know it's shitty, but my job is important to me. I can't be forgotten. Known only as an old failed artist."

"Trust me, honey, you're the least likely to be named a failure."

"That's not the point! You're not listening to me. I come from the bottom, I've had to fight for respect every fucking day of my life. I'm finally where I deserve to be. I can't throw it all away for... for love!"

Valentino flinches like you've punched him in the gut. He takes a step back and leans against the kitchen island, trying to keep his balance.

"What happened to 'you and me against the world', huh?" he murmurs.

"I think I got too wrapped up in this - in us. I was stupid to think it could work. We both were."

"I wasn't," he replies defiantly. "I knew exactly what I was getting into. I knew it would be really fucking difficult and I loved you anyway."

"I'm not sorry for loving you," you whisper. "I'm sorry for a lot of things, but never for loving you."

"If you meant that, you wouldn't be giving up."

You turn your head around, unable to look at him any longer.

"This isn't giving up. This is... quitting while we're ahead. If we keep going, we'll just end up having a huge, horrible, public breakup," you stop, and take a deep breath. "I think we were always doomed to fail."

Valentino thinks about the diamond ring that sits in a box in the top drawer of his nightstand. Doomed to fail.

You finally look up at him, and all the air leaves your lungs. You've never seen him look so defeated, so vulnerable. You're the cause of this. And you hate yourself for it.

You pad across the kitchen and pick up your bag from where he threw it, before stopping in front of him.

"I don't regret you, Valentino. I never will."

With that, you stride out of the front door, closing it gently behind you. Val is left, cold and empty, in a room that no longer feels like home.

[oneverydelululemon]

SXF MANGA SPOILERS AHEAD, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

So, like many of us in the sxf community (especially damianya fans), i never stopped thinking about ch 96 and the confession. Well, i finally decided to write down what I imagine the conversation between Anya and Damian would look like when he figures out Anya wasn't joking. This little text is exclusively a dialogue, as I wanted to see how I'm doing with writing the natural flow conversation. I might post a prequel to this, showing how I imagine Damian would figure it out and and how Anya would confirm his suspicions.

Now let's go!

The Conversation

In a janitor's closet/behind the school

Damian leads Anya to their meeting place so they can talk in private. Upon arriving, both stand frozen in place, staring at eachother in silence. Both are clearly nervous. Damian is the first one to speak.

D (wide-eyed): So....what you said at the gala....you weren't joking?

Anya only nods, looking down at her shaky hands, fidgeting. She's pale.

Damian observes her for a moment or two before sitting down on the ground and putting all the weight from his head onto his palms, which are now on his knees. Anya does not dare to move.

D: Wha-how? How is that even possible? Since when have you been able to do that?

A (shrugs): A-Anya was born with it.

Damian moves his hands around his head, his brows furrowing. Anya hears him think:

D: Born? What does she mean by born? Can people be born with powers? Do superheroes actually exist? Wait, does that mean.... No! There's no way! Right?!

D: Wh-what do you know about me then?

Anya finally turns to look at him. She sits beside him and returns her gaze to the ground, this time in thought. After a moment, she returns his gaze with a slight smirk on her face. She's still pale, sweating bullets.

A: Anya knows Sy-On Boy likes drinking milk in the morning so he can be tall. Anya also knows he has a dog and misses his big plushie. She knows he threw up after eating green peppers and that he peed in the bed when he was small-

Damian stops her from continuing, clearly embarrassed.

D: Okay, okay, I get it! Stop!

Anya stops talking. He sighs in frustration. She can hear him rambling in his head again, this time in panic. She looks back on the ground, fidgeting with her hands once again. She tries her best to shrink herself, tearing up.

A: Anya kn-knows Sy-On Boy h-hates Anya. Anya understands if he is m-mad and doesn't want to see Anya e-ever again. Anya will leave him a-alone and stop reading Sy-On Boy's mind.

Damian immediately moves his eyes from in front of him to her, his face turning red.

D: H-Hey! Th-th-that's n-not true! And besides, I can't just forget you can read my mind!

Anya starts slowly calming down, wiping tears from her eyes. She looks back at him. He gets even redder.

A (shocked): Sy-On Boy's not m-mad at m-me? Really?

She instantly hears the answer in his mind. She exhales, finally breathing normally. Upon seeing her do so, Damian does the same.

D: You should drink something. Let's go get some water and then go back to our classes. The teachers will notice if we're out for too long.

He hands Anya a handkerchief to blow her nose with. It has his initials on it. She gladly takes the handkerchief before turning her nose into a little trumpet with it. Both seem nore relaxed now. While Anya's blowing her nose, Damian looks away again, a curious expression on his face.

D: Hey, um...does anybody else know about your powers?

A (done using the handkerchief): No. Only Sy-On Boy.

Damian looks at her again, surprised.

D: Only I know about this? Not even Becky? Or even your parents?

Anya nods. Damian hesitates for a moment, brows furrowing once again, before asking:

D: Why did you tell me of all people? How can you trust me with this secret?

Anya looks at him before turning her gaze in front of her. She was silent for a few moments, deep in thought. Then she finally spoke in a low tone.

A: Anya knows what it's like to be sad and alone, and she doesn't want Sy-On Boy to be sad and alone too. Anya thought he would not hate her anymore if she stopped lying to him.

She stops for a moment before meeting Damian's gaze, looking at him with the most genuine gentle smile spread across her face, blushing ever so slightly.

A: Anya really wants to be friends with Sy-On Boy. She wants him to be happy.

She pauses before asking, her face slightly changing into an expression of cencern.

A: Are we friends now, Sy-On Boy?

Damian stares at her for a bit, mesmerized. He answers almost in a whisper:

D: Yeah. I think we are.

His voice becomes louder as he stands up, dusts off his uniform and fixes up his hair.

D: Come on, let's go drink something. There should be a water fountain nearby. We should be careful not to get noticed.

Anya stands up as well, observing Damian.

A: Thank you, Sy-On Boy. You're a good person!

She smiles from ear to ear, beaming. Damian's face goes red again. He averts his eyes from her, turning his back to her. She can hear him say in his head:

D: You can call me by my actual name, you know, I have it for a reason...

He calls out to her.

D: L-lets go, already! We're gonna get Bolts for skipping classes because of you!

He starts walking, expanding the distance between the two of them.

D: Come on, Forger, hurry up! Move those stubby legs of yours before I change my mind about befriending you!

Anya catches up to him gasps.

A: Anya doesn't have stubby legs! Damian should get his eyes checked!

D (blushing slightly from hearing her say his name): ME?! LOOK WHO'S TALKING! I BET YOU COPY NOTES FOR YOUR CLASSES FROM OTHERS! YOU CAN'T EVEN SEE THE BOARD THAT'S RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU!

A: WELL DAMIAN SQUINTS HIS EYES LIKE A GRANDPA EVERYTIME HE READS!

D: HOW DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT- oh yeah right. DAMMIT I HAVE TO GET USED TO THIS!

D: I'M. NOT. OLD!!! AND I DON'T DO THAT! THERE'S JUST TOO MUCH LIGHT AND DUST IN THE CLASSROOM!

A: heh.

D: AAAAARGHH SHUT UP!!!

They continued arguing until a professor heard them. Thankfully they didn't get a Bolt, but they were let off with a warning and a suggestion to get glasses.

FRIENDSHIP WITH DAMIAN: 100+

That's it! Thank you for reading! Feel free to let me know what you think!

Byeee <3

[luneariaa]

ᯓ★٠ ࣪⭑ INJURY. ( bucky b. )

mentions about you being injured but not that detailed, bucky being worried as always, playful banters between the two of you, not much proof-read, usage of doll nicknames as always.

this is almost going nowhere but eh 😭

tagging : @xxladyballadxx || dividers by @/saradika-graphics !! 💜

"Doll!"

Bucky grabs onto your wrist almost too carefully so; bringing you along with him to the outside, vacant space beside the unused car. He begins to do some checking here and there over your figure, inspecting any possible harmful injuries while kneeling in front of you.

"Does it hurt?" He questioned worriedly, just in case, even when he just found a cut right on one of your cheeks. Thankfully, it's not too deep, so it might heal in a few days prior.

"Ouch.." You tried your best to mask your pain with a small pout, but to no avail. It's just a 'small' cut after all, you should be fine.

"You're lucky that it's nothing too serious. If it's something worse, you might give me a heart attack or something."

"Don't die yet." Your voice came out in an almost humorous, beseeching way-- yet in purpose regarding to his previous statement. "Who am I gonna annoy then?"

He rolls his eyes upon your choice of words, "Oh wow doll, I'm touched." The sarcasm is evident within his tone, trying to play it off as if he's not that concerned.

As if wanting to test it even further, he lightly smacked your thigh-- albeit almost playfully-- making sure you're really okay despite your look of disbelief.

"That's what you get for making me worried, and for being reckless." You merely pouted once again upon his remarks, the quiet utterance of 'hey' escapes from your lips involuntarily.

"You're insufferable, you know that?"

Bucky didn't mean it, of course. He secretly enjoys watching and getting every single reaction out from you.

"Thanks for reminding me!" You retaliated wryly, rolling your eyes over his words this time; somewhat aware of his true intentions, yet decided to play along for now.

Not too long after, he gently grabs ahold of your face, causing your gaze to land upon his own as he examines for any visible wounds being present. His touch is so tender, and almost making the pain from the cut earlier to dissipate into nothingness.

"Don't throw yourself out in the way next time. If I see you doing that again, I'm not and won't speak to you for a month, got it?"

He wouldn't dare to do that anyway-- both of you knew for a fact.

"Is that supposed to be a threat?"

".. dramatic ass." You huffed slightly, shaking your head. "You know damn well that's not gonna happen."

Another eye roll was received from him. "Don't try to change the subject."

"But I bet your fine ass won't listen to whatever I have to say, so I'm keeping you away from fighting anything for now."

"You can't do that!" You gasped almost too dramatically for your own liking, but you couldn't help yourself.

"Try me."

No traces of playfulness are present anymore-- only dead seriousness. The least he could do is to allow you handle one more enemy before, but the chances are low, and surely, the others have taken care of it by now.

You initially wanted to try arguing back, but also well aware on how pointless it would turn out. So instead, you simply sighed rather heavily, slumping your shoulders in defeat.

"Fine, you win." You grumbled reluctantly, shifting your gaze away from his own while he wipes your slightly bloodied cheek with some sort of a tissue-- pulling you into his strong arms after.

You couldn't even be mad at him or anything, especially when he's just worried about your well-being.

Bucky doesn't reply just yet; merely embracing you for a bit more, while still being cautious over any possible wound being present on you that's still left unseen. The feeling is still quite new to him, since he doesn't just hug people that often.

But he wouldn't lie-- it genuinely feels nice, and it brings him some sort of comfort, at least.

This time, he makes an exception for you. He's clearly trying himself, and you somehow knew that even when he didn't tell you anything.

"Sorry.." Your voice is somewhat muffled by the leather jacket he's wearing, yet he still heard you nonetheless. One of his gloved hands gradually reaches out to the back of your head-- stroking your hair so delicately as possible.

"It's fine, doll."

"Just be careful next time. For me."

@luneariaa. do not repost; reblogs are welcomed. all rights reserved.

[anamericangirl]

I found this reblogged by an artist I follow and really, really like, not just as an artist, but as a person.

She's even called my her friend before.

She also has this in her pinned post: "This is a safe place for everyone to enjoy what they want without judgement. I don't mind who enjoys my content and who does not." I kinda figured that might have been a lie because a lot of people who claim they're "tolerant" are really only tolerant to people they already agree with, but I couldn't know for sure if that was true in this case or not.

I'm honestly genuinely really upset and don't know what to do. :'( Any advice?

It’s become pretty obvious over the last few years that anyone who describes their blog as a “safe place” means that it’s a safe place for left wing minorities who all have the same opinions and don’t have to worry about the mean scary conservatives so anytime I see a message like that I pretty much immediately know it doesn’t apply to me and that the person who wrote it will not like me.

And like you’ve seen, most of the time they don’t even mean because they turn right around and post the most mean spirited judgmental things without even hearing people out and trying to make them feel bad and unwelcome. It’s incredibly hypocritical.

Now, it’s a lot harder to move past that when it’s someone you’re close to or consider a friend. Like I can deal with people calling me a Nazi all day long but when it comes from someone in my family it hurts a little bit. So I understand being caught off guard and feeling upset. It’s a really mean message.

Right now tensions are still really high. It’s only two days since the election and the Kamala voters are still dealing with the fact that they lost. They’re upset and angry and we all already know the only way they deal with their problems and emotions is by lashing out at those around them.

If it were me, I might give her some time to calm down. If she is able to move on from this I’m sure she’ll go back to her once pleasant self and you might even be able to gently approach her on the subject. People need to understand it’s not ok to talk about others like that just because you’re mad.

If this is a friendship that’s important to you then don’t give up on it. Just try to be patient, kind and understanding and be living proof that she’s wrong. On the other hand, if you don’t think she is the kind of person who will see reason and is going to live out the behavior of that post you are not obligated to subject yourself to such treatment because you don’t deserve it.

[flightfoot]

Isn't the target audience for the show little kids? Why is the heroic mc gaslighting? Why was THAT chosen to be her decision? Idk I feel like the fandom excusing this is focusing solely on the fanfiction side of things lol. I can't really see a conversation about boundaries like you've mentioned happening, for example. Marinette will cry about it for one scene, hugged by the guy she gaslighted, then the show will move on. All the implications of her actions, how toxic the love square is- those are not things that can be adressed respectfully in an episodic kids show. Especially not by these writers. We've seen the twitter takes. So just- idk, I wouldn't want a ten-year-old to watch this ngl. Especially because the kid watching might be an abuse victim themselves.

We have had some conversations about boundaries before, in Glaciator 2, when Ladybug was upset at Chat for keeping on hinting at wanting to be a couple, which means that such a conversation IS in the show's wheelhouse of what it can do.

Cat Noir: I guess I'm not your favorite cat at the moment, am I? (walks towards Ladybug) Can I take you to a movie to make up for it? Or how about a restaurant to celebrate our nomination as Couple of the Year? Ladybug: (yelling) We're not "Couple of the Year", we're not a couple at all! Cat Noir: Sorry! Sorry! I didn't mean to make you so mad. (Ladybug simply looks away from him, still mad.) I get it. You're sick of me. I might sound like a broken record expressing my affection for you over and over. I know I should stop but... I can't help it, you know? I have so many feelings welled up in this heart, and I don't know how to control them. Ladybug: (sighs) I know your heart's in the right place and that you don't mean any harm but— Cat Noir: (dejectedly) You're right. You shouldn't have to put up with this. I'll stop. I don't know how yet, but I'll figure it out. I promise. Ladybug: (smiles) I'm counting on you. Cat Noir: (frowns) I'll see you later. (vaults away, and Ladybug eventually to the other direction)

(Later)

Cat Noir: Nice to see you again, my... dear friend whom I respect and for whom I have no other feelings than true platonic friendship. Ladybug: Are you making fun of me? Cat Noir: Not at all! I'm... just getting my bearings. Ladybug: Lucky Charm! (uses her power as a car drops in front of them) Cat Noir: Oh, yeah! That lucky charm really revs my engine! (Ladybug closes her eyes, coming up with a plan to use her lucky charm. The scene zooms to the big exhaust in front of Gare du Nord.) Ladybug: Okay! Take the wheel. I got a plan. Glaciator: There you are! You think you can escape me like that? (Ladybug and Cat Noir step in the car. Cat Noir starts the car engine and drives away, escaping Glaciator as the villain comtinues to chase them.) Glaciator: (sing-song) I'm Glaciator, the mean ice-cream man, and I am your number 1 fan! Cat Noir: (while driving) That's enough! We're just friends! Ladybug: Okay. Let's go! (hurls her yo-yo, tying it around Glaciator and on her car seat) Pass me the wheel. Glaciator: You think you can escape me by attaching me to you? Cat Noir: Where are we going with this—? I mean, not the two of us. Just... where are we going, like, a direction? Ladybug: I got it. We're heading to the Gare du Nord. We'll stay in touch. (She continues to drive, escaping Glaciator.) Cat Noir, now! (Cat Noir jumps out of the car.) Ladybug: (through the ear-piece) You know what to do. I'll come back as soon as you're ready! Cat Noir: Drive safe. (He leaps to rooftop where a billboard of him and Ladybug is located. He drops it to the ground to use it as a ramp for Ladybug's car.) Ready, m'lady! Uh, do you mind me calling you "m'lady"? Ladybug: No, that's okay. (performs a drift) It's not that complicated, you know? If I tell you that something's annoying, you stop doing it, that's all!

I don't know that the show could go over all the implications of some of the things Marinette's done with Adrien, in all the identity versions, but it having Adrien lay down some boundaries and Marinette doing her best to abide by them so she doesn't accidentally hurt him is within the realm of what it can do, since it's done it before. Granted, there's more variance and a bigger scale with some of the lies Marinette's told Adrien and the secrets she's kept from him, but it's a similar idea at least.

[sonicblueartist]

is bullfrog date headcannons okay?

A/N: Of course~ And sorry if this is short. I couldn't think anything else to add lol

Bullfrog x h!reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 894

Taglist: @blorbostation

Btw does anyone want to be in the tag list?

Two things can definitely happen in this scenario. Either Bullfrog dates with you or stays away, he doesn't want to hurt you because of his job.

But right now, with your request we are going with a scenario where he chooses to date you and has close contact, so...

He is already a sweet and kind guy (and wise too). But when it comes to you it just doubles up. He is the dictionary meaning gentleman.

He could do anything for you to see you smile. It includes being silly. Avoiding his jokes isn't even an option.

"Knock knock"

"Not a door joke. God...Who’s there?"

"French"

"French who?"

"French frise!"

He is as honest with you as possible. He doesn't mind anything at all. He is comfortable with you and hoping you are with him too. He just wants you to be yourself with him.

Very affectionate and physical. You don't like PDA? He will drown you with his compliments.

"You look stunning as always, mon amour."

He loves to see your cheeks turn pink. He loves to fluster you. He will flirt if it means he could see that all the time.

"When you're around, I don't need anything else, mi chéri."

You are feeling bad? Exhausted? Sick? He will take care of you. There are no excuses.

You are in danger? Hurt? Oh god. I think for the first time in your life you might have the chance to feel sorry for those kinds of people. You know what I mean?

Bullfrog doesn't get angry very much. But what if he hears that you are being used or harmed? He will then go into fast rescue/kill mode. (I believe he still wouldn't be mad mad but you know)

I don't know why but I feel like killing or getting harmed isn't his breaking point to go mad about it. We need something else (Hopefully I can figure that out one day lol)

He likes to kiss your hands and if possible (because of his height) on your forehead too. You probably need to lay down or kneel for that and he doesn't want to force you. But if you lie down on his lap? Damn, he will melt and donate your face all over with kisses.

He is not someone to get jealous. He trusts you with his whole heart. But that doesn't mean he is not protective over you. If he sees someone bothering you and going too far? He will step in and warn them kindly. If that doesn't work? Oh, well. Have fun watching him give them some senses. What? No, of course he is not gonna beat them up. No, no. That's not his still. Not in public.

He could stare lovingly at you for hours. Tracing your lines. Observing your features. If undisturbed he can do this all day and night.

He can and will be brutally honest when the time is right (not specifically towards you), and sometimes that scares you.

"We are immortal spiritual beings that are embodied in mortal flesh to experience emotions and develop our own destiny, designed by ourselves in our pre-natal life."

"What?"

He is just joking.

He wears casual clothes when he is around you. Like a hoodie and shorts. Something comfortable.

He likes to cuddle with you while you both sit comfortably on your couch, watching something and a blanket around both of you. He LOVES your warmth. So he is gonna steal your hand whenever he gets the chance. Or lean his body on you.

He is very understanding and expects the same from you.

If you prepare breakfast and bring it to him in bed before he wakes up in the morning (which is a bit difficult, I'm sure he will always wake up before you), he may or may not start crying in happiness.

You can't sneak up behind him so no surprise attacks. It's not always end up like you planned it would be. He always somehow sensed it even before you had the idea.

"Agh, come on! At least can't you pretend you didn't know? It's impossible to surprise you!"

"Well, sorry, mi chérie, but you are a bit too obvious."

"That's not true!"

"Okay, okay, I'll pretend next time."

He couldn't. He just acts on instinct; you can't blame him for it. It happens unintentionally

"I just wanted to surprise you for your birthday, damn it!"

"Oh?" He is in tears from happiness.

He is not playing around when he told you that he loves you. You are his one and only.

Dates are either on rooftops or in your house.

He will never let you disrupt your sleep routine for him.

You are having trouble with something? Always having nightmares or you just can't sleep? Or having trouble eating? He will be there every second of it to help you.

He is not innocent. Of course you know that. He knows his place and he respects your boundaries and thoughts.

He feels intimate with you.

He loves any kind of fruit. I can see him sitting on the couch eating apple slices with you.

He becomes really awkward when he doesn't know what to do about something or gets really flustered.

He will support you with anything you will and can do.

LOTS OF PET NAMES IN FRENCH