#y'all could have at least pretend to understand

[stardust948]

Jesus: *Stressed out and explaining how He's going to die soon*

The disciples:

[flamingpudding]

Sorry but I have returned with a part 3 of Klarion is Dan

So Danny is still having you know conversations with the entire RedRobin Young Justice team

When Tim sneaks away to go talk to the Justice League outside he's holding a few kryptonite cookies in his pockets then starts explaining to the Main Justice League on how yeah Klarion bought our trust with gifts so we can pretend to be his friend so he could make his mom happy Klarion's Mom he's is the nice creepy person I have ever meet so can y'all just got to play along

Clues the main Justice League playing along with Klarion being their sidekicks friend after a while Danny finds a way to pull up his scrapbook too also Danny and Clark have started speaking country to each other it's hilarious amazing

Batman in the end like a party pooper reveal that is Klarion is one of the enemy of the Young Justice it makes Young Justice along with Klarion sad for two different reasons for the Young Justice because Klarion's mom is really cool and Klarion cuz he feels like he is disappointing his mom

Danny after a while had a feeling that Klarion made friends like himself back when he was a teenager

A bit late but I finally had the time to write this down, without work stress or a migraine / headache torturing my brain! Hope i didn't make you wait to long! Either way I love this, sooo lets go! Part 3! Here we come!

Also thanks so much for the ask! This was inspiring since I have been struggling with writing the past weeks.

---------------

Danny was really enjoying his time an conversations with the children. He liked them, even if one of them was a speedster. And he could see that they were good for Dan, now Klarion. Danny had always been worried about his time clone / son. Klarion had no longer been as connected to Sam and Tucker as Danny was. Sure Jazz, Ellie and him, as well as Vlad had been there for him. But Danny knew himself and through that he also knew Dan in a way only Vlad could understand. They had been worried. But when Dan got deaged and choose to go by Klarion Danny's worries had become lighter. Especially when Klarion started to tell stories from the Dimension he had chosen to live in when he wasn't at home. One that was unlike their own home dimension but still similar enough so he wouldn't have troubles adjusting.

Danny smiled like any proud mother would as he watched the four heroes interact with his son. He could see it, Klarion had recreated friendships for himself outside of who he used to be in a different timeline. That alone lifted so many of Danny's worries for the boy. A chuckle escaped him as he once again watched Klarion snatch a green glowing cookie from Red Robin, glaring daggers before he jumped across the table in an attempt to tackle Impulse who was now also reaching for the green cookies. The speedster as expected easily dodged him.

He knew something was going on. Klarion has created a barrier right as Impulse had returned earlier from his 'bathroom break' and he could feel presence outside of his son's front door. One of them feeling funnily similar to one of many the soul contracts that had been laying on his desk for months now, ignored on purpose. But Danny choose to ignore it for the moment. If the kids were up to something than he was the least adult to stop them. So instead he when he saw his boy so distracted, Danny smiled towards Wonder Girl, reaching into a quickly opened portal next to him. "So about the picture you wanted to see earlier."

Danny smiled mischievously like any parent would at a chance to embarrass their child. But also noticing how Red Robin used the chance of Klarion chasing after Impulse and the Kryptonite Cookies in his hands to stuff a couple of the green cookies into his own pockets as well as one into his mouth. Danny suppressed a laugh, as he kept conversation with Wonder Girl flowing.

Superboy was right by Red Robins side as the boy pounded his fist against his own chest in surprise, but also refused to spit the cookie out. Once he swallowed the kid stuck out his tongue a look of wonder. "Have you ever tasted something that felt like sugar coated in love and care sprinkled with calming emotions but had a weird but not bad after taste of sewer water?! I will never be able to look at the Lazarus Pits the same anymore!" the caped teenage hero whined towards his Kryptonian friend and Danny couldn't help it any longer as he burst out laughing.

"That's a Description I have never heard before! Sam likes to say their taste like actual Rainbow puke and Tucker is still trying to convince me that they taste like he was dared to lick a motherboard but one was coated in the finest meats!" Klarion instantly froze in his chase after Impulse and pointed glaring at Red Robin as both Wonder Girl and Impulse now appeared very tempted to actually try the Kryptonite cookies too. "You didn't!"

"I did." Red Robin grinned fearless, the way Tucker used to when he had hacked into the GIWs servers when they were kids.

"DO YOU HAVE A DEATH WISH?!" Red Robin yelped as Klarion jumped at him over the couch table to wrestle with the other boy as if to make him spit out any green glowing cookie reminds that could be there. "You mortals are idiots!"

Danny blinked and laughed as a little Chaos (Ha! His sons favorite past time) broke out with Wonder Girl, Superboy and Impulse trying to help Red Robin against Klarion only for them to get pulled into the little wrestling match too. With Klarion occupied with the other three as well as trying to stop Impulse from also shoving a green glowing cookie into his mouth he noticed from the corner of his eyes how Red Robin snuck away.

Batman looked ready to strangle John Constantine as he glared at the Justice League Dark member currently working on removing the barrier. This was taking to long in his opinion. Their kids were in there with a highly dangerous being and one of their enemies. This wasn't a situation to take lightly. He growled and Superman patted his shoulder trying to calm him down.

"We will get in there Batman. Just calm down for now. I am sure they are doing all they can to remove the barrier." The Kryptonian said in a calming tone sharing a look with Wonder Woman and the Flash, who by now had rounded the apartment three times to see if there was a possible entry way not covered by a barrier. Batman only grunted again as the door to the appartement suddenly opened, their heads snapped instantly towards it to see Red Robin standing behind the barrier.

"Red Robin Report!" Batman instantly snapped marching forward but frowned as the barrier was blocking him from reaching the teen.

"Klarion's mother is a multidimensional being under the impression that Klarion is working with the Heroes in this impression and not against them. He is also known as the Ghost King ruler of the Infinite Reams. I am sure you are already updated on what the Infinite Realms are." The teen stated in a reporting tone the adult heroes were familiar with. "So far The Ghost King has not shown any hostility towards us or our dimension unprompted. He is rather nice and a good parent by all means. To not disappoint his mother Klarion abducted us so we could pretend to be his friends, in other words Klarion is in need of our help to keep his mother under the belief that he is working and friends with us."

Batman nodded, letting the information sink in. "Anything else?"

"Well, I would suggest to not become hostile ourselves and to play along for the time being." Red Robin offered his solution hoping that with his report their mentors were more willing to play along than with the way Impulse probably slammed the door in their faces. For one, they would get to have a longer time of a break and two, as long as they don't piss off Klarions mom they won't have to face an eldritch being probably ready to tear them appear to protect his child.

"You believe that to be the best course of action? What about the others?" Superman asked instead and the teens head turned a little to look at the Kryptonian. "We are all in agreement. We are also additionally in a position with this to fish for more information about Klarion."

He could see their mentors thinking as they were exchanging looks weighing the pros and cons of his suggestion.

"Constantine? You said that the Ghost King is a dangerous being that could destroy our dimension, correct?" Wonder Woman spoke up turning towards the magician.

"A Bloody fucking Tyrann that can rip us all a new one, mate." the Brite muttered annoyed with the situation.

"Then I guess keeping the Ghost King happy by humouring Klarion should be the best and most peaceful option we have at the moment." Flash added crossing his arms as he looked at the other JL members as they came to a silent agreement.

Hocked, Lined and Sinker. Red Robin thought for a brief moment with relief as the adults agreed to his suggestion. "That means no using spells behind our backs against the Ghost King too." The teen hero added though as he narrowed his eyes under his mask on John Constantine that was cursing under his breath but nodded.

"Great then I can tell Klarion-"

"Red Robin what are you doing out here?" Batman stiffened as white gloved hands rested on the teen hero's shoulders and they saw a white haired man, wearing a royal cape and a floating crown on his head, appearing by the door behind the teen.

"Oh I was just greeting our mentors, they came to check on us." Red Robin lied easily, not even flinching as the man had appeared out of seemingly nowhere. Batman had narrowed his eyes as he exchanged looks with Superman. They hadn't even noticed the man's approach.

"I see, please come in instead of standing out here." John Constantin gabbed as with the flick of his finger the man removed the magic barrier as if it was nothing and they heard a loud whine from inside the apartment of. "MOM IT FEELS WEIRD WHEN YOU DO THAT!"

"Sorry Klarion, baby!"

At that moment the adults realized that the man before them was the Ghost King.

The man lead them inside introducing himself as Danny as he guided Red Robin by his shoulders back to the couch to join the other teens again. The adult heroes where greeted by the image of Wonder Girl sitting on Impulse who was monopolising a photo book and Klarion being lifted into the air lion king style by Superboy flailing around. The teens and mentors blinked at each other several times before the teens continued like they weren't there, Red Robin joining them wanting in on getting to see the photo book that apparently contained 'baby' photos of Klarion.

"How about we leave the kids to themselves and have some coffee and cake by the dinner table?" The Ghost King, Danny, suggested and the adults mutely followed. They blinked as Danny opened a portal, Batman grunted as seeing similarities to something else in it, and reached into it. Danny heard his sisters distinctive "HEY!" Through it when he pulled out a cake from it to place on the table. The heroes couldn't help but sweat dropped, the cake was clearly not finished, it was only half way coated in cream and decorated.

"It's nice to meet the mentors of the friends my boy made in this dimension." Danny started to make small talk serving them coffee and each of them a slice of cake. "It's also nice to finally meet the guy that has sold his soul into so many pieces that I have an entire stack of paper work on my desk."

Constantine flinched, as he refused to make eye contact with the Ghost King who only chuckled. "Relax, I don't care about all these contracts. Most of them were even made before I took over as the King and the previous Ghost King... well lets just say he slept through all of his paperwork."

"Wait previous King?" The magician looked up now. "Mate are you telling me you aren't the bloody fucking Tyrann Ghost King?"

They watched as Danny rubbed his neck embarrassed. "Oh looks like the news didn't get to your Dimension yet, yea I dethroned that guy on accident and took over once I became an adult. Pops did say that it might take some time for all Dimensions to get updated on these kinda news..."

The four heroes looked stunned as they heard the Brite groan loudly thumping his head against the table muttering a "I need a whiskey."

"Oh its also nice to sort of meet my... Cousin or Niece from this Dimension whatever you would prefer more." Danny said to change the subject, looking towards Wonder Woman who blinked at him. "Cousin or Niece?"

"Yes I was Ghost Adopted by Clockwork, also known as Cronus, and Pandora. They speak a lot of praises about you, well every version of you." Danny smiled. There was an awkward moment of silence that Flash broke looking stunned at Wonder Woman. "You never told us you were related to the literal King of all Dimensions!"

"I didn't know!" / "Not all Dimensions."

Both Wonder Woman and Danny spoke at the same time. This finally seemed to break the eyes among the adults as most of them started to chat idly while the teens were fighting over a photo book in the back ground. Well all but one Batman sat among them listening to the other Heroes talk with the Ghost King, grunting every now and then to signal that he was listening. His eye twitch a little as both Superman and Danny suddenly started to talk in a weirdly with niceties filled way of talking.

Of course everything good and nice couldn't last forever and when a triumphant shout in the background from Red Robin resounded who was holding up the photo book with Klarion pinned to the ground by Impulse and Superboy, Batman had to be the one to finally put his foot in his mouth causing everyone to freeze. The bite of cake Superman was about to eat dropped back onto the plate and resounded like a pin needle dropping by the silence caused by one simple, in Batman's mind, question.

"As his mother, are you aware of your son's villainous actions against us heroes?"

A dramatic "No!" Resounded from the teens mostly caused by Impulse dramatically falling to his knees in a pleading motion towards the adults. Klarion on the other hand looked like his entire world was just shattered as he sat up on the ground from his previously pinned position, his eyes glued to his mother. Both Wonder Woman and Superman eyes looked to and fro between Batman and the Ghost King with worry while Flash, apparently decided to get himself another slice of cake as quick as possible before the Ghost King would inevitably kick them all out because of Batman.

Danny stared at the dark knight for a long moment not reacting until he let out a sigh. "Figured as much."

There was another kind of silence, a stunned one, as they all blinked at the Ghost King who was starting to chuckle a little at the faces they were making.

"Mom?"

"Oh please Klarion." Danny waved his son off. "We both know that neither you nor I ever made friends the normal way. Of course you would make friends by being a little shit, just like I did with all my rogues when I was a teen and are now part of the council. It was unavaidable for you to do the same. Ancients even Vlad made friends like this or did you forget how many times he tried to kill my dad, Jack?"

There was silence for a third time, this time it got broken my Wonder Girl bumping her shoulder into Klarions.

"What kind of crazy family do you have?!"

"You have no idea.... you haven't even met my older sister yet...."

[vershl]

Okay I think I made y'all wait long enough LOL

SORRY THEY'RE ALL UNCLOTHED BTW, I HAVENT FIGURED OUT OUTFITS YET- 💀

I don't really have a lot to share tbh in terms of lore/plans. This AU is very VERY fresh in my brain atm. But I will fill in some details for you guys so you somewhat/mostly understand the current characters I have for now.

---

Shadow

He is a red diamond (ultimate lifeform yada yada), and as stated, a "blood" diamond. I mean this somewhat in modern terms, but not entirely. In real life, diamonds mined in a war zone and sold to fund the costs, hence "blood". In this case; Shadow was created by the other diamonds (primarily white) as a weapon, the plan was to have a gem on equal footing in terms of strength and power that they could order around to do their bidding and do their dirty work.

Clearly, that didn't work out the way they wanted. Shadow pretended to be obedient, following white, and the other diamond's orders. He shattered other gems for whatever reason the diamonds deemed fit (among other things I haven't decided on yet), only doing so to avoid the risk of being deemed defective and shattered himself, or the gem being shattered regardless by someone else.. he at least knew he could give them a swift end without pain.

Once Shadow gained the diamonds trust to wander around as he pleased, the moment no one was looking, he stole a ship and left Homeworld. Going as far as he could into the universe until he found Mobius and crash landed there. It wasn't very long before Sonic found him, and eventually became allies, inviting Shadow into the Crystal Gems, to which he accepted, and chose the name 'Shadow'. He didn't want to be called 'Red' or 'Red Diamond' anymore. He was free now. (This is as far as I got with him, sorry y'all HAHA)

Sonic

Sonic is a yellow prism in the shape of an isotoxal star (the yellow is a nod to super Sonic). In my AU, because offical SU lore with gems is relatively limited, different colored gems even if of the same type, give different abilities/powers. In Sonic's case, yellow prisms give the ability of super speed, because of course, and he chose his name based on that fact as well.

Lore wise with Sonic-- He's the leader of the Crystal Gems (makes more sense considering the CG's signature symbol is a yellow star, so I just ran with that but changed the normal star to the isotoxal). But that's all I have for him.

the rest of these characters have 0 lore at all, i will just try to explain their gems a bit- sorry

Amy

Amy is a Mimetite, a heart stone which helps with emotional stability, inner balance, serenity, joy, and adventure (according to google). Because Amy is basically canonically that 'therapy' friend, mimetite fits perfectly with her personality. As you can see, there are only a few designs that have weapons currently, Amy's being obvious because it's her signature weapon and just works here in the AU as well.

Tails

Tails is a yellow peridot, it's obvious why, and I don't need to elaborate LOL. There isn't much different between peridot colors, it's more-so personality traits than abilities. Green peridots are quite egotistical and arrogant in themselves, while yellow peridots are more adventurous and selfless.

Knuckles

Sorry for his naked hands btw. Honestly, I don't think I have to explain why Knuckles is a garnet. It just tracks. (Reminder that in the show, Garnet isn't a real garnet, it's just what she decided to call herself. In this case, Knuckles IS a real garnet.) Is his signature gem weapon gauntlets/gloves, yes. Did I steal the idea from Garnet? Shut up. :] Besides, Knuckles needed his usual gloves somehow, and he fights by punching shit anyway, so why not? Star on the back of the gloves ofc for obvious reasons.

Rouge

GOD this stupid bat bitch, aaaanyway, ahem. In my AU beryls are information gatherers, either by stealing it or manipulating their way into obtaining it. Beryls are generally under diamond control and report back to their assigned diamond with information they demand for, obviously Rouge is part of the Crystal Gems, so she gathers information for them. And more often than not...is her usual self, and snoops around, digging up dirty secrets/information about her comrades and teases them to no end with it (Shadow being her favorite to torment for... reasons.)

Silver

I chose Silver to be a sapphire simply because of the fact that in the Sonic universe, he can time travel. So instead of time travel in this Steven Universe AU, he gets future vision. I mean it works, right?

Blaze

We can talk about her gem right.. right? It's really tasty and I want to eat it. So; opals are very, VERY rare (which fits with her whole being a princess thing or whatever). She was originally going to be a fire opal... that is until I found out about dragon's breath opals and changed my mind. Blaze is an absurdly rare gem, who knows, maybe even the only one of her cut. :]

Her gem gives her the ability to control fire as a weapon, and her unique cut gives her fire more power as well as makes the flames an unusual pinkish hue.

---

And that's everyone for now! I'm doing some little doodles that I might post a bit later on to compile together, but you can have the two I made of Shadow for now. eats him

[thesamoanqueen]

Hold me

Warnings: 16+

A/N: finally joining the seven paragraph thursday challenge, tagged by @dreamsinfocus @joannasteez. Its just one shot about my kink hope y'all like it, addio~

It was the way they caressed her neck, insinuating themselves between curls, gently rubbing that portion of caramel skin behind her ear until their movement and his breathing lulled her to sleep. They held and protected her, as if wanting to prevent someone from stealing her during the night, taking her away, away from the warmth and security that only them, only him, could give. They were an almost childish reassurance, simple and good in the true, profound essence of that word, there to cherish and love her in the most banal and undervalued gesture a human being could have made. A certainty that was never missing, unexpected, always, everywhere, requests or not.

It was the feeling of them on the small of her back, to guide, not force, accompanying her through any moment, letting her know that he was there, behind her, covering and supporting when she could find a way herself. It was seeing them open doors, move obstacles, take anything before her mouth could even bother to ask, to offer, serve and provide. Almost bodyless, ghosts in her peripheral vision, supporting actors who in her mind had stolen the prize from whatever great broken promise every nobody shouted before in her face.

It was the strength they showed by keeping her upright when she bent like a tightrope walker on her heels, acting as her anchor and then softening as soon as her strength returned. The ardor with which they held her soft hips, encouraging the obscene movement of her body in the ecstasy of pleasure, the dangerous, frightening possession with which they tightened around her throat, suffocating moans, grabbing, slapping, claiming every portion inside her wet folds and even outside. The heat, crave, with which they burned on her skin, between her lips, on her thighs wrapped around his solid body, against her chest shaken by tremors and prayers. Rough, arrogant, confident and hungry.

And the imaginary circles they drew on that bare finger, the one he always kissed with persistence, commitment, not one by chance, that one, without explanations because they didn’t need them. And she had pretended to don’t understand, not to see, to ignore, keep her feet on the solid ground and reality, but sometimes they pulled her up physically, like a little dreamy girl, like something more special, promising and she ended up looking for them as air in her lungs. No shadow of the past could stand a chance against those fingers, those hands that she had fallen madly in love with.

Them and not just them, she admitted at least to herself, because in her own words she couldn't - not yet - but she hoped to make up for that lack with the same tenacity that those fingers showed in keeping her anchored there, with him.

- You're stuck with me...- she heard Roman laugh, forcing her to raise her head, moving away her dark eyes from their irremediably linked hands, tearing a dangerous, uncontrollable smile from her lips that he ended up miming too.

- God help you - and his grip got tighter, holding her there in that lovely trap, always.

Tag squad: @sunnyfleur23 @racerchix21 @alyyaanna @reignsangel444 @romanreignsdefencesquad @romanstheory @claymorexpunisher @keybladeofsteel @msbigredmachine @nayys-world @gobbersworld @utika151209 @cumxxslutt @civildawn @romanmydaddy @triscillal @papireigns-05 @helensanders92 @love-islike-abomb @darqchilddaydreamz @meggylynnloves @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @nicolewoo @reignsx @reigns-central-blog @kianaleani @daguenoire @extra-11 @thedonsfactory @snowpanda18 @brattyfics @mzv11 @romanreignseater @joannasteez @2baddies2furious @vebner37 @depressedneedingrevenge @cyberdejos2 @usosthetics @mahi-wayy @jxtina-86 @harmshake @southerngirl41 @blkbutterfly816 @spritelucozade

[thattimdrakeguy]

TIM DRAKE NEEDS OUR HELP

I need people NEED THEM, oh baby, oh goodness do I NEED people who don't know much about Tim Drake to stop talking about the Boy Himself: Tim Drake.

Presented: An accurate depiction of an 18-year-old Tim. The over-sized T-Shirt that helps his already lean body make him look skinnier (therefore people would underestimate him, which is part of his personal fighting technique) worn for comfort over anything else adds to it greatly. He does not normally dress fancy, as is sometimes assumed of him. Wearing some of the Robin colors also help.

If you do not know what he looks like, that is fine, that is actually UNDERSTANDABLE. Like what am I to do, pretend I don't know why people don't know what he looks like? After over a decade of him mostly looking like a generic white guy super hero?

Y'all gotta realize, people did not care about Tim for a very long time, because he was basically the D-List Robin since he stopped being the main one. So they never did their research. He wouldn't even be written right. And his relationships and details of his character could change drastically between writing changes. It was awful.

So those that don't know, please try to learn why people sometimes say what they do about Tim. It's not all true, but in this case, it is true. And when we get to see what he's supposed to look like in a real comic, it's very exciting for us, because we don't normally get that excitement anymore.

I know, it's sad just to be happy to see our fav look like themselves, but it's the spot we're in.

Presented: Canon Proof of Tim's appearance, set when Tim was only months away from being EIGHTEEN-YEARS-OLD, he was still being confused for being TWELVE-YEARS-OLD. Showing how he does look for his age.

Like he's SUPPOSED to be VERY SHORT, he's supposed to look lean to the point of seeming skinny in his street clothes, people are supposed to underestimate him (which is why his appearance works so damn well), he's supposed to have a soft 'cute' look to him, especially young looking even for his age as you can see above, that is part of him, one of of his gags is that he's confused to be twelve even when he was nearing eighteen. HE PURPOSELY LOOKS LIKE THAT. It is an ACTIVE choice. It is not a weird thing people just randomly do, it is a purposeful character design choice, made for the character, for him to stand out, and be different from the other characters with.

It is NOT a fanon thing people made to infantilize him. That is just what he looks like. And it is exactly what some real people look like. It is ACTUALLY part of him. It is a CANON part of him. That is brought up so much, because people keep thinking it isn't CANON, when it is CANON.

Presented: A horrible drawing of Tim Drake, during an era that made a lot of people have misconceptions of the character we're only lately getting away from. But some people still believe to be the more accurate Tim, based on when they started reading. DO NOT DO THIS.

All because a lot of artists don't care to draw him right, doesn't mean his appearance miraculously changed within the canon. Or at least it shouldn't have, considering that'd be weird, and take an aspect of the character that made him unique go away. Which is not fun for any character to have them done to them.

So when ever an artist does DRAW him like that, can we gang together and say "HEY, GOOD JOB ARTIST, FOR ACTUALLY LOOKING UP WHAT TIM LOOKS LIKE"

Presented: ANOTHER VERY GOOD TIM. See how he's shorter than his friends (Bart's leaning), has a soft 'cute' face, leaner physique (looking skinny, but not scrawny like he isn't athletic), thick middle parted hair. These are the components of a well drawn Tim that people desire to see more. It will look different based on the art style of course. But these are what makes Tim's appearance suit what we know of Tim, and has been clearly established no matter his age. Here, he is presumably around 17-years-old. Possibly not even a year younger than he currently is.

Because seeing people who see him look different, when it's the right difference, and complain, because they are not aware Tim isn't supposed to look buff and tall and masculine, just because a lot of artists didn't care about who is ultimately at this point a D-List Super Hero...isn't really fair to the people who DO CARE ABOUT IT.

Presented: Something I'm definitely gonna delete from my device soon enough, but added for the sake of the post.

If you wouldn't take away from Dick's ass, don't take away Tim's appearance, please.

We know Tim is different, and that's why we love him the way we do so much.

[bamboozledbird]

𝕚𝕗 𝕚 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕚 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 pt.2 // stiles stilinski imagine

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, fem!reader, Theo Raeken, Lydia Martin Pairing(s): Stiles x you, Theo x you (no use of y/n) Word Count: 5.3k Tags: a fix-it for y'all bc i'm a pushover Warnings: Underage drinking (at least in america rip, they're all 19+), creepy guys in bars, emetophobia, new jersey slander (please forgive me jerseyans)

Request: for all you people i made cry with part 1. this is my love letter to you. A/N: you don't necessarily need to read part 1 to understand, but this is a follow-up to if i could lose you i would.

The night starts well enough. Theo’s hand is a warm, steadying weight against your lower back, and his cologne cuts through the vague funky smell clouding the bar. Lydia chose it; somehow, no matter the city, she always knows about the coolest, underground spots that seem to only circulate within an elite circle of twentysomethings. It really isn’t all that shocking when you think about it as you nurse your bitter cocktail; every single person who catches a glimpse of Lydia immediately craves her attention. Unfortunately for them, Lydia always takes you as her date, though lately she’s been ending your nights out at a stranger's apartment more often than not. She’s never said it, but you know it’s because, ever since the disastrous end to her start-of-summer bash, Theo's made himself a permanent third-wheel on girls’ night. He’s never said it, but you know he started tagging along because you’ve been distant since Stiles poured into your bedroom and pressed on all the bruises his fingertips left behind when he left you. You really thought you’d washed them all away with 3,000 miles, 3 months, and 3 weeks of the scrape of Theo’s teeth. 

You sip on your fourth drink of the evening, sitting on a barstool because your legs are too wobbly to stand on, and Theo watches you watch Lydia spin a girl with a radiant smile and glitter tinsel in her hair. 

“You wanna dance?” he hums in your ear. You can barely hear him over the bass and the buzz of too much tequila. 

You nibble on your straw and hiccup around it, “Don’t think I can.”

Theo makes a move to grab the drink in your hand, and you bend backwards to keep it out of his reach. “Come on,” he frowns, “you can’t even stand.”

“So?” you purse your lips petulantly and punctuate your point with a loud suck, draining the last few drops of your lime margarita through a few chunks of leftover ice.

Theo looks tired as he studies your face. “What the hell is going on with you? I see you every day, and I still don’t have a fucking clue.” 

You’re too drunk to pretend you don’t know what he’s talking about. Hiccupping again, your nose scrunches, “I’m just…I wanna go home.” Theo pats his jacket pockets for his keys, and you shake your head a few too many times. “No, not there.” Your stomach turns when you finally realize what you actually mean. You want to hitch a ride on the melting ice in your glass and dissolve into knotted hair on Sunday mornings, freckled skin washed with the shifting sun, and pouted pink lips, cursing the snooze button and your cold toes. You don’t say that. You’re drunk, not cruel. “I wanna go back to Stanford. I hate it here.”

Theo’s eyes are shadowed in the dim light of the club, but they’re calculating. “You really think that’s far enough?” 

Blinking slowly, your mind spins with the drinks in your stomach as you try and fail to think of something clever. “Feels far,” you mumble, and Theo doesn’t look reassured. It’s hard for you to differentiate pain from anger through watery eyes and the brume of tequila, but whatever emotion is darkening Theo’s expression, you think it’s justified. He’s smart enough to know what you mean. 

 His face goes blank as he searches for his keys again, “I think that’s enough fun for tonight.”

You shake your head and wriggle down further into the cradle of your hips, “I wanna stay.”

Theo exhales through his nose and runs a hand over his face, “I thought you wanted to go home.”

Your tongue is thick as you struggle for words, sniffling as they tease you from the fraying edges of consciousness. “Not there.” You know you sound like a baby, recycling the handful of words you can remember, and you know that tears will only make it worse, but they still bubble along your lash line.

“Stay at Lydia’s then,” Theo spits out through gritted teeth, but he shoves a napkin towards you to mop up your running mascara, so you forgive him. It’s your fault, after all. At least, you think so as you watch him leave. 

“Boyfriend troubles?” Your head lulls to the side as you blink dumbly, all big-eyed and glassy, at the stranger leaning against the bar beside you. He’s tall, well-built too, but you’re mostly focused on his pungent cologne. It’s hard not to; you’re suffocating in it. 

The man laughs and grabs your chin, shaking your head a little, “You’re adorable. How could anyone stay mad at you?” 

You recoil, wrenching your face from his sweaty grasp, and run your tongue over your teeth. “He’s not…” your protest gets lost in your throat when he steps into your space and slides his hand along your spine, just shy of your ass. Your dress is backless, completely exposed to his wandering gaze, and your skin crawls with the sensation of his fingertips grazing your back.

His breath is hot and wet on the shell of your ear, “You want to forget about it for a while, angel?” 

“No,” your head jerks from side to side, eyes screwed shut, “I don’t—I think I’m gonna puke.”

A wave of relief rolls over you when a red-taloned hand slithers between your bodies. Lydia shoves the stranger’s chest sharply, sending him stumbling into the stool behind him, and his hand falls from your hip. 

“Does it look like she wants to contract something from a limp-dicked lowlife in tacky shoes?” The top of Lydia’s head barely reaches his shoulder, but her eyes are sharp and her sneer is venomous. The creep has the good sense to look a little afraid. “You have exactly two seconds to get the hell out of here before I personally ensure you’re on every public sex offender registry from here to Quebec.”

She grabs your hand before he has the chance to disagree and pulls you into the bathroom. In comparison to the loud, muggy dancefloor, it’s a wonderful reprieve: an oasis of cold air and muffled bass. 

Lydia fusses over you for a minute; you wave off her concerns and push yourself onto the sink even though your arms feel distinctly gelatinous. You can tell she doesn’t believe you, but men preying on drunk women is a tragically large and present underbelly of girl world, so after a moment she turns her intense focus to the lighted mirror. She looks perfect—she always looks perfect—but she won’t believe anyone except her own reflection.

The aching strain in your arches slowly dissipates to a faint tingle the longer your feet dangle from the counter, your heels discarded below. They’re black strappy things from the back of Lydia’s closet, and so is the scrap of black silk that Prada has the audacity to call a dress. You are grateful, however, for the short hem and open back now that your skin finally has the chance to breathe. 

You watch Lydia apply her lipstick with a precision brain surgeons could only dream of, smiling lazily. She’s graceful with the slender brush, like Botticelli stroking a swathe of red silk over a canvas of smooth skin. You envy her, with your eyeshadow already melting below your waterline, but mostly you love her. So proud to have such a goddess for a best friend. 

Her head tilts as she smiles at you, and she must be at least a little godly because she doesn’t smear her lipstick when her mouth curves. “What?” she hums around her puckered lips. 

“Nothing,” your words slur together, “you’re just perfect.”

She tucks her lipstick into her clutch and shakes her head, “And you’re so drunk. Lethal, babe.”

“I love it,” you sigh as she starts fixing your hair, clicking her tongue when you start to fidget. You slump into her careful touch and watch her fingers smooth through a few knots near your ends. “Being drunk is my favorite.”

She twirls her finger, indicating you should turn around, and begins twisting your flattened curls into an elegant bun. “I’ve noticed,” she mutters through the bobby pin clutched between her teeth, “you’ve been drinking more than you’ve sober lately.”

“It’s summer!” You blow a curl off of your nose and close your teary eyes so that your mascara doesn’t flake onto your cheeks, “You’re supposed to be drunk.”

Lydia hums and pulls a few strands of hair loose to artfully frame your face. “I didn’t realize alcoholism was seasonal.”

“You,” you bop her nose and giggle when it scrunches under your finger, “are being a major buzzkill. Don’t kill my buzz; that’s murder in the first.”

“Someone has to be.” Lydia leans her hip against the sink, and her brows curve, “Where’s Theo? I thought he was your DD tonight?”

You let the intoxication sweep over your senses because it’s easy and knock your ankles together like a child on the swings. “He left,” you chirp.

“He what?”

Your bottom lip juts out a little, “I think I hurt his feelings.”

Lydia is incensed. She tosses her hair over her shoulder and mutters a few choice words under her breath, “I’m going to hurt a lot more than that when I find him.” You curl in on yourself a little, and she sighs, unwinding her fingers from tight fists as her eyes soften. “He really left you here?” she asks quietly.

You shrug, refusing to feel sorry for yourself, and make grabby hands at her sleeves, “It’s okay. You’re here, and you’re my best friend, and I love you.”

She laces your fingers together and squeezes your hand, “It is not okay. That creep had you halfway to his car.”

You shudder at memory, and feel the ghost of the stranger’s clammy hand against your lower back, “But you rescued me. So it’s okay.” 

You frown at Lydia’s frown and push her cheeks together, squishing her mouth into a crinkled half-smile. She rolls her eyes a little and takes your wrists in her hands gently, “He shouldn’t have left you. It was a shitty thing to do, babe.”

“I made him sad, I think.” You hiccup a little, “I think I always do.”

“He can’t leave you blackout drunk in a skeezy bar just because you’re in love with someone else,” she huffs.

You tease the tip of your tongue through your front teeth, swinging your legs back and forth below the sink, “It wasn’t skeezy when you picked it.”

Lydia huffs again and folds her arms over her chest, “That was before I saw tall, dark, and creepy try to take you home.”

Your playful grin crumbles as your drunk-numb mind finally catches up with the burning behind your ribs. “I’m in love with someone else,” you say, voice sticky and thick in your throat. 

She lets out a sigh so soft you wonder if you just imagined it and takes both of your hands, “I know.”

Whimpering quietly, you turn your nose into your shoulder, slightly embarrassed by the sound. “I’m sad about it.”

“I know,” Lydia combs a few strands of your hair off of your tear-tacky face and smiles a little, “let’s get you home, okay?”

Another round of nausea hits you as you finally realize that you’re truly, really, horrifically drunk, and you still can’t forget him. 

“I don’t think I know where that is anymore.” 

Lydia was able to corral you into an Uber after you puked a few times. She held your hair back and helped you brush your teeth. You cried a little when she wiped the sweat off of your face with a makeup wipe, watching her take care of you with big wet eyes, as she tucked you into bed like the baby tequila and heartbreak had turned you into. She made you promise to call her in the morning, and then she left you to sleep off the ache in your throat and the six margaritas in your bloodstream—or was it seven, you can’t remember. 

You can’t remember much, it seems. You scroll through your feed for a while and squint at the blurry splotches of color, trying to recall if you were good enough friends with the girl from software systems to leave a comment on her post about how hot she looks in red. Your fingers drift, swiping away from Instagram to the only thing you remember. The thing you’ll always remember.

The phone rings exactly two times.

“Hi.” It’s the only thing you can think of besides, ‘I love you. I love you. I love you. Please make it stop.’

“Hey.” You listen to Stiles breathe on the other side of the line and snuggle further into your pillow. “You there?” 

His voice is soft in your ear, and your eyes go lidded, “Uh huh.”

He clears his throat, “What are you doing up this late?”

You twist around your sheets, and the tip of your tongue pokes out at your phone. Apparently, you’ve also forgotten that he can’t see you. “What are you doing up this late?”

“It’s uh,” Stiles pauses and there’s a rustling sound on his side of the line, “almost 8 here.”

You blink and frown at the time on your screen, “Nuh uh.” 

There’s a pause; you hate it. You want him to keep talking until you fall asleep. He finally sighs, “Are you drunk?”

Your tongue pokes out again, “I’m not the one who can’t tell time.”

“Baby,” your heart skips and your breath hitches, and he must be tired because he doesn’t seem to notice the slip, “we’re in different time zones.”

Your heart stumbles over the skip this time, and it feels a lot like flatlining. “You went back already?”

“I, uh,” he shifts, must be in his desk chair because you can hear something rolling, “my lease started. Figured if I’m paying to live in Philly, I should actually, y’know, live in Philly.” 

“Oh.” One little syllable, and it’s heavy with so many things you can’t bring yourself to dwell on it. 

“Yeah.” 

“So, uh,” you hear him scratch at something, most likely the back of his neck because he sounds anxious, “why’d you call?” He’s quick to correct himself, words overlapping like ripples in a creek, “Not that I’m not glad you called; I’m stoked you called—or maybe something a little less embarrassing—but I, uh,” there’s that scratching sound again and a quiet thudding of drumming fingers, “I really didn’t think you would.”

“Dunno,” there’s a smile in your voice, but you aren’t sure if he can hear it through the wobble, “just started dialin’, n’ I ended up here.”

He stands, and the phone shifts against his cheek as he starts to pace, “Where are you?” He sounds worried. You frown—you don’t want him to worry. You want him to hold you.

“Home,” you pause, nose wrinkling because that’s not quite right, and then add, “my house.”

“Did you drink anything?”

“Clearly.”

You can hear the eye roll from the other side of the country when he huffs into the phone, “I meant water. Did you drink any water?”

“Uh,” you nibble on your lip, “yes?”

He huffs again, but this time you can tell he’s smiling, “Get up and get some water—Advil too. Put it on top of whatever book you’re reading so it doesn’t get lost in your pile of shitty chapsticks and hair thingies.” 

Your eyes cross, affronted, “They are not shitty.”

“They’re an endless cycle of chapped hell.”

“But they taste good,” you grumble, cuddling your pillow to your chest.

He’s smirking; you know it. “Oh, I know.” 

You both just breathe through the line for a long moment, remembering the same slick slide of lips and tongues. 

“I miss you,” you whisper. 

Stiles inhales sharply, “I miss you too.”

“No,” you shake your head, smearing mascara on your pillowcase, “I miss you.” Your mouth is dry, and you can’t find the right words to explain it, how he’s apart from you even when he’s standing right there. There just aren’t enough words in the English language to explain the ache in the marrow of your ribs, how he still lingers inside your skin like some kind of fucked-up, agonizing osmosis, how you love him so tortuously, so effortlessly. Indefinitely. 

You can’t explain, but when he whispers, “Yeah, me too,” you know he knows. 

You sniffle and hiccup a few times, and a sigh crackles through your speaker. “Drink some water for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper. You roll onto your stomach and sit up a little on your elbows, “Will you stay?”

“Yeah, baby,” his chair squeaks as he sits back down, “‘till you fall asleep.”

“Promise?” Your voice is thick, like you’ve been crying for hours, and Stiles’s voice is tight when he finally replies. 

“Promise.”

You wake up with dry eyes and a rank taste in your mouth. There’s a glass of water and a handful of Advil on your nightstand, and you just know. You’ve known for a while actually, maybe forever, but you can’t pretend you don’t anymore. 

Theo seems to know why you invited him over so early on a Sunday morning. He doesn’t even look sad when you officially end it, and you wonder if it’s because he knew it was over a long time ago. You wish, selfishly, that he would’ve let you in on the secret so that you could’ve avoided all this. You hug him before he leaves, and it’s stiff and awkward, and you feel a little shitty about the whole thing—but it doesn’t feel wrong. 

You feel like yourself for the first time in a long time, and that feels good.

Summer is almost over, and you don’t have the time to obsess over all your wanting. All the air leaves your body sometimes, no room for anything but honey, veins, and new stubble, but you have so much to do. There’s no time for drowning in it when you’ve only got a few weeks before the semester starts. 

You don’t even have the time to acknowledge the nerves wriggling up your esophagus until you’re standing in front of a black door. Your screen is lit with the address Scott texted you, along with roughly 100 exclamation points and a dozen or so brain explosion, party popper, and happy face emojis. They steady you as you knock on the splintering door. The unit is cute and quaint, and you distract yourself by getting a better look at the sage green columns. 

Stiles opens the door, looking disarmingly soft in his worn sweatpants and stretched-out t-shirt—like cuddling on the weekend, like playing video games until sunrise, like home. He blinks at you slowly, pretty pink mouth slightly ajar.

You shift on the soles of your sneakers, jamming your hands into your hoodie pockets. “Hey.”

He blinks some more and seems to be only capable of repeating what he hears, “Hey.”

“So,” you dig the toe of your shoe into the porch, staring at a warped patch, curved from seasons of melting snow, and shrug, “I was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d drop by.”

He recovers from his stupor and leans against the doorframe, hands tucked under his armpits. “You were in the neighborhood,” his head tilts with his arched brow, “in Philadelphia.”

“Well,” you try not not to smile, “it was on my way.”

Nodding, Stiles rubs his chin and purses his lips. You want to kiss the smirk off of his stupid face. “Right, the classic eastbound Stanford route.”

“Not quite.” You adjust the strap of your duffle bag on your shoulder, easing some of the ache pinching at the base of your skull, “New transfer orientation is on Monday. Turns out Princeton’s comp sci department is decent.”

His face becomes guarded, but there’s a little something like hope behind the uncertainty, “4th in the country.”

Something warm inside your stomach flutters. He knows. Of course, he knows. He probably researched it all the way back in high school. You brush your hair out of your eyes and hum, “Mhm.”

Stiles slides his socked foot back and forth, slipping on the polished floor of his cozy entryway. He barely catches himself on the doorknob. You laugh until he says, “Stanford’s 2nd.”

Your shoulder lifts, “That's correct.”

His chin dips as he searches your face for something. You smile at him, and he swallows; it looks painful. “You turned down MIT because it was too far from home.”

“That's also correct,” you say quietly with a jerky nod. 

His eyes go wide as he shakes his head, almost violently. He almost slips again with the dramatic effort, “MIT’s 1st in comp-sci.” 

You steady him with a palm against his chest, swiping your thumb over his ribs. His heart thrashes under your touch, and your face lifts with a timid, tender smile. “Sure, but Princeton’s ranked #1 nationally. Overall champs, baby. Suck it.”

Stiles finally smiles, but it’s hesitant. “You don’t say.”

You let a breathy exhale and drop your hands to your sides, curling and uncurling your fingers into tight fists. He’s still looking at you, a cute little wrinkle in-between his brows, waiting for something more. Fair enough. He kind of laid it all out on the line the last time you spoke in-person—he kind of deserves to stew a little after everything he put you through, but you’ve forgiven him, decided you want to be happy more than you want to punish him.

You roll your shoulders back and tilt your chin to meet his gaze. “I don’t believe in soulmates.”

Stiles’s face goes sour, and he crosses his arms firmly over his chest, mouth twitching between a pout and a frown. “You stopped in Philly just to tell me tha—”

You rock onto your tiptoes to press a finger to his lips, biting back a smile when they pucker like a fish, and say, “Will you kindly shut it for a minute? I need to get through this. I practiced a lot on the plane.” His eyes narrow, sullen and irritated, but he keeps his lips pressed together, waiting impatiently for you to finish.

You slip your finger from his mouth to cup his jaw, thumbing just below his cheekbone, and his body goes lax, irritation slowly seeping from his lanky limbs to the floor. Grinning, you poke the tip of your tongue at him, and he swallows hard as he tracks the movement.

“As I was saying,” you smile through the snark and slide your hands to his chest, resting against the vibration of his thudding heart, “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately, and I don’t think there’s just one person out there for everyone—but that’s a good thing, right? I mean, the entire concept of a soulmate is basically just a blackhole. You’re falling, and falling, and falling—and there’s no end; you’re just trapped. There's no choice. I don’t want to love like that—I don’t want to love you like that.” 

It’s cute, the way his face screws up around a theory. It’s a familiar expression, and you can’t help but melt at the knees while you watch his eyes flick back and forth, adding up all your expressions and trying to calculate the meaning. The corner of your mouth pulls into a slip of a smile, “If I turned around right now and never saw you again, I’d be okay. I mean, I wouldn’t drop dead or anything.” 

He sucks in sharply, head jerking back, “What the fu—”

“Hush, I’m almost done.” You keep going before he can interrupt you again, rushing through the rest of your speech, running out of air and restraint, “I think that I could get over you, eventually, years and years from now—but the point is—what I realized is: I don’t want to. I don’t want to get over you. I don’t want to find someone else. Stiles, I love you—I’m in love with you, and I really think tha—”

His lips are wet and warm against yours, and you whine softly into his mouth at the familiarity. He hooks his thumbs in the belt loops on your jeans and yanks you closer, until your chests are pressed together and you can feel him breathe. You were right—the beard burn is delectable.

The kiss slows into something less desperate, something more like forever, and Stiles brushes his lips over yours in a few chaste pecks. When your lashes finally flutter open, you see that he’s grinning at you. It’s so wide, so happy, and his eyes crinkle at the corners as he says, “Sorry, you just would not shut up, so I figured it was either kiss you or shove something in your big mouth—and I’m not super confident in my CPR skills. Scott and I really spent most of the time figuring out how many pencils we could fit into the dummy’s mouth.”

“I take it back.” You push his face away from you, but a laugh bubbles past your swollen lips when Stiles pinches your waist. “I hate you.”

“Nope. No refunds.” Stiles shakes his head solemnly and wraps his hand around your hip, squeezing possessively, “You kiss it, you buy it. That’s what Coach said about the dummy.” 

“Well,” your arms find their way around his neck, and your fingers wind into the soft hair curling behind his ears, “you are a dummy.”

“The dumbest,” he agrees. He’s smiling, but his eyes are sincere, cloudy with guilt. “Baby, I never should’ve—”

You take great satisfaction in your turn shutting him up with a kiss, tugging on his hair until you’re on your tiptoes and he’s groaning into your mouth. “I think we’ve been miserable for a long time,” you whisper, breath ghosting across his shiny lips. He shivers, and you press your temple against his forehead, “I think I’ve had enough of it. How ‘bout you?” 

Stiles nods quickly and dips in to kiss you again. “Can I say sorry one more time?” he mumbles, kissing the ridge of your ear.

“I suppose,” you sigh and fall back onto your heels. 

He takes your bag from your shoulder and guides you into his apartment, kicking the door shut so that he doesn’t have to let go of your hand. There’s a thud as he drops the duffle bag onto the floor, and you barely have the time to take-in the ratty little sofa and coffee table piled with empty pizza boxes before he’s on you again. “I’m,” he kisses the corner of your mouth, and it twitches with the contact, “so,” his lips trail to your cheek, “very,” he presses a kiss to your temple, “truly,” to your hairline, “forever-ly,” to the tip of your nose, “sorry,” to your mouth. 

You sigh as he settles in for a real kiss and fall back onto the couch with him on top of you, disrupting his rhythm with a breathy giggle. He braces his weight onto his arms, and you wriggle down until your face is directly below his. “Hi,” you trace his bottom lip with your finger, smiling when he purses his lips to kiss it. 

“Hey.” He looks drunk: cheeks flushed, eyes hazy with pleasure, body loose and free from critical thinking—and you think to yourself that you’d do just about anything to make sure he’s this happy for the rest of his life. 

Stiles rolls, bringing you into his side with an arm around your waist, and presses against your lower back until you're crushed against him. Still, you squirm closer. Neither of you say anything for a long time, content with the sound of each other’s breathing, and then Stiles hums in his throat a little and plays with the ends of your hair, “So. You’re gonna live in New Jersey.”

“Yup,” your mouth pops with the ‘p.’

He grins, “Wow. You must, like, really love me or something.”

“Or something,” you tease, and he bites your shoulder in retaliation. 

“Jersey isn’t so bad,” his voice is muffled against his teeth, still embedded in your sweatshirt. Well, his technically.

You laugh, “It’s not?”

“Nah,” Stiles pulls back to look at you and scratches at the back of his neck, lifting a shoulder, “wouldn’t mind living there for the…beaches.”

“The Shore, you mean?” you grin, trying to imagine Stiles with a bad spray tan and slicked back hair. 

He grins right back and strokes your cheek, “Yeah, I’d move there for the Shore. I’ve actually been searching for just the right opportunity to show off my scrawny arms and pasty complexion. It’s like, what, a 40 minute drive from there to Penn?”

“Trenton would be around that, but I was thinking Pennypack would only be 30 from Princeton.” Stiles looks at you through lidded eyes, suspicious. You grin, “For the cheesesteaks, obviously.”

“Obviously,” he quips, but you can tell his heart isn’t in it. His face turns serious as he whispers, “You don’t have to do this,” into the quiet air humming between you. “I would’ve transferred to a school in California if I knew you still wanted me.” A flash of something ignites behind his eyes, warming the amber to whiskey, and he sits up a little, reaching over your head for his phone, “I’ll do it right now.”

You clutch his wrist and shake your head, pulling on his arm until he’s close enough to feel your lashes brush against his skin, “That’s why I didn’t ask. You’ve been dreaming about this program your entire life.”

Stiles is unusually still as he stares you down. His incisor digs into his bottom lip with a cruel bite, “What about your dreams?”

You huff, “What part of #1 don’t you get? I literally just told you to suck it. In case you forgot, I cordially invite you to suck it again, #6.” He smiles, but his eyes remain unconvinced. Your face softens, all the muscles and cartilage going gooey with affection, “It was never about Stanford, Stiles. It was about home. Guess it took you going away to figure out home sucks without you. S'not really home at all, actually.”

His lashes flutter slowly as he blinks, shaking his head, tongue running over his teeth as he struggles for air and words in equal measure. You kiss him until he finds them. “I know you don’t believe in it,” Stiles breathes out, “but I don’t think I could survive you being gone. Not again.”

You stroke over the planes of his face and hum thoughtfully, “I believe you wouldn’t want to.” Your shoulder twitches with a quick shrug as you add, “I know I don’t.”

His mouth chases your fingertips, pressing kisses to them every so often, and he closes his eyes heavily—like he hasn’t slept in months, maybe since the night he broke up with you. “These last few months have been just the fuckin’ worst,” he finally manages a smirk after you kiss his nose in agreement, “like a fuckzillion times worse than the summer I broke my leg, and you and Scott signed up for rec soccer without me.”

“You’ve got to let that go,” your voice is high and whiny, and Stiles’s smirk widens, “we didn’t even win any games.” You tickle him, heart leaping into your throat when he laughs and squirms away from your relentless fingers, “Didn’t have our good luck charm with us, obviously.”

“Obviously,” his grin is smug with satisfaction. Stiles tangles your legs together, legs clunking clumsily but that’s just part of the delicious charm, and hooks his chin over your shoulder, “So, Pennypack, huh.”

You nod, “I really don’t want to live in Jersey.”

You can’t see him, but Stiles peers at you, a little dubious, a lot fond. “And it’s not just for me?”

You grin, caught, and shake your head firmly, “Absolutely not.”

“It’s for the cheesesteaks,” his brow arches, and he seems to finally understand when the room becomes a swathe your smile, of your bubbling laughter: He makes you as happy as you make him. 

“Obviously.” You mean, I love you, I love you, I love you, and I never ever want to stop.  Stiles hears it, of course he does, and he says it back, sealing it with a kiss, “Obviously.”

[msnihilist]

"It's been quite a while since I got to see our counterparts like this, dearest," Anti-Cosmo remarked to Anti-Wanda. He grinned down at the three fairies in the cage beneath them. "Miserable."

"Shoot, it must've been at least twenty years!" Anti-Wanda remarked. "Longer for you two, though, huh?"

Cosmo cradled Peri's head in his lap, keeping him on his side so that he didn't choke if he vomited. Wanda sat next to her boys, rubbing a hand soothingly between Peri's wings, like she used to when he was a baby.

She felt close to tears. Her baby was so sick that she feared he wouldn't make it... And they had their anti-fairy counterparts to mock them through the whole awful ordeal.

"Don't you two have anything better to do?" Wanda snapped at them. "Terrorize someone else for a change! We're plenty miserable without you here."

"Oh, please don't think that we're trying to make you feel worse." Anti-Cosmo shook his head. "It's more like we're here to enjoy the show."

"I even made popcorn!" Saying that, Anti-Wanda procured a bag of popcorn. She held it out for Anti-Cosmo to help himself to a handful.

Wanda clenched her jaw in frustration. The smell of food just made Peri's convulsions worse. She shushed him, trying her best to be comforting as her son dry-heaved.

With shaky fingers, Cosmo brushed Peri's curly hair away from his sweaty forehead. He met Wanda's stare, his eyes tight with concern. "Wanda..." He started, but said nothing more.

What was there to say? What was there to do? They were trapped, and the situation was getting worse by the minute.

As a last, desperate bid for her son, Wanda cast her voice up to the anti-fairies. "Please, can't you at least ask Dev to make a wish? Something small! Peri has magical build-up, and he..." Wanda swallowed, unable to say it. "You don't want the same thing to happen to Irep, do you?"

Anti-Wanda hummed as she pretended to think about it. "Now, correct me if'n I'm wrong, darlin', but that ain't how anti-fairies work, innit?"

Anti-Cosmo adopted a similar look of faux thoughtfulness. "No, you're right, strumpet. I believe that anti-fairies aren't affected by their counterparts deaths, merely by any action which might undo their creation. So our precious child is going to be perfectly fine."

Something inside of Wanda shattered. All she could think was that this wasn't fair; she hadn't had enough time.

"Please..." She tried again anyway, because it was all that she could do. "Please don't let my son die."

Anti-Cosmo laughed. "Enough with the melodrama. I don't understand why you're making such a big deal out of this. You ought to be used to it. After all..." He adjusted his monocle, lips curling into a vicious smirk. "This isn't the first time you two have lost a son."

His words hit like a slap to the face. Wanda was too stunned to reply — torn between the urge to sob and the burning desire to kill someone.

Not a day went by in the last ten thousand years that Wanda hadn't thought about him. And now she was going to lose her youngest son, too. What had she done to deserve this? Why was fate so cruel?

Why did love always have to end in "goodbye"?

When he didn't receive a response, Anti-Cosmo huffed and turned away. "Look on the bright side — perhaps the loss of a child to bond over will be enough to keep your fragile relationship hanging on for another thousand years or so."

Anti-Wanda giggled, looping her arm through Anti-Cosmo's and leaning on his shoulder. "Give a holler when he's ready to pop, y'all! I love me a good confetti shower."

The two anti-fairies drifted away, cackling together. Wanda felt numb. She was so angry that she had looped right back around to feeling nothing. She was completely calm.

Cosmo reached over and took her hand, entwining their fingers. "What are we going to do?" He asked.

Wanda took a deep breath. She squeezed his hand back, placing her other hand on Peri's head. "Whatever we have to do to protect our son," she promised.

She had failed once already, and once was too much. Not again. Never again.

As long as Wanda still had the strength to flutter her wings, she was going to do everything in her power to defend her family.

AO3 link.

[bangchansbackohmygod]

Hello, how are you doing?💗🌸

So I don't know if your requests are open or if you take any requests at all so feel free to delete this.

I was wondering if you could do a headcanon for yandere stray kids where they aren't just friends with the reader but not dating yet? Not fwb, just really crossing the line of friends and lovers.

Also sorry for any mistakes it's just that English is not my first language. And I hope you have a nice day!!🤗✨️

This lovely request came in a very long time ago, so I don't know if the anon is still following, but I still want to answer it because I just adore a pining yandere!

Just the Hyung Line for now, I'll post the Maknaes if y'all are interested!

Chan: The name of the game is isolation. He won't get rid of all your other friends, oh no, he's far too smart for that. Plus, as twisted as his love is, there's enough pureness in there that at least part of him wants you to live a happy normal life. He just wants you to live that happy normal life with him. So he builds your trust with a thousand little favors. Dropping off a snack for you when you have a long work shift, seconding your choice of film during group movie nights, and even picking up the phone when you need to rant regardless of his schedule. He's your rock, and your other friends trust him too just by seeing how sweet he is to you. So when he puts on a fake sad expression and says "I just don't understand *****, no matter how nice I am to him he's so rude back", you don't hesitate to start leaving that person on read. He's careful with the timing, only one or two per year. Sometimes he even plants the seed of doubt in one of your unknowing friends instead. They tell you about this "bully", and how Chan was "trying to brave through it so you wouldn't be hurt", following his composition like the notes he plucks out on his piano. Without your noticing, you're slowing being locked into a cage of dependency, where the only person in your life who is without question is Chan. He hasn't confessed yet, but he'll take a decade if he needs to so that when he does you'll have no reason to think twice.

Lee Know: Cat-sitting for Minho was something he asked for at least once a month, using his tours and schedules as an excuse. True, they lived with his parents, but he'd put on an effortless show of filial piety, taking his parents with him to foreign countries or paying for weekend getaways "just because he wants to repay them for raising him". The truth is, his parents' house and the three fluffy critters are the perfect recipe to get your guard down. You bring along your softest jammies and your favorite sleepytime tea, building yourself a little nest to snuggle into once you've finished checking the litter and filling the food and water bowls. Minho can't help but light up whenever he sees you giggling at a kdrama in his living room, half asleep and surrounded by his fur babies. How can he see you right now? The cameras. The tiny cameras he's installed all over the house just for your visits. By the tv, in the ceramic figurine in the kitchen, even in some of the kitties' more elaborate scratching posts. Your babysitting adventures are his favorite streaming channel, his ray of light when he has to be away from you. You may just be his friend now, but he likes to think of your little unknowing dates as practice for when you're his pretty little housewife. One day he'll come home to you waiting for him like that, his cold phone screen today replaced with the softness of your lips tomorrow.

Changbin: It's the Pretend Boyfriend trope taken just a step too far. It started with him warding off some creep at a party who kept trying to hand you drinks. A thick bicep around your shoulder and a "yo man, she's taken" got the unwanted attention off your back and earned him a smile and a thank you. Then he offered up a selfie that you could send to an ex that kept asking to get back together, saying that once he knew you'd moved on you'd finally be rid of him. Changbin even told you to give his number to the jerk, that he'd "act" like a protective lover if your ex didn't buy the bluff. The charade worked, and this time he got a thank you, a hug, and a bowl of ramen on you next time he had time to grab lunch. He was hooked. More and more, whenever the two of you were in public, he'd suddenly pull you in by the waist or plant his hand on the wall next to your head. He'd whisper that a guy across from you in the arcade was looking at you funny, and "it's probably better if he doesn't think he has a chance with you". The dim lights hide the blush on his cheeks and the giddiness in his eyes. You avert your own gaze and thank him as always, too flustered by his closeness to bother looking past him at the offender. It's a good thing you don't, actually. He'd rather you didn't know that over half the time there isn't anyone there.

Hyunjin: What else? You're his muse. He loves to paint, and he loves to paint you, and despite your own insecurities you can't deny that the you he translates through his art is nothing short of beautiful. It started as a portrait he requested you sit for, your insistence he find a better model shooed away with promises that he was painting all the members and some of the staff, too, for variety's sake (he's lying). He finishes the piece in record time, but since you can't see the canvas from your stool he fusses about and pretends to add lines when in truth his brush has long gone dry and his long gazes at your form aren't to get the curve of your nose right but simply for his delight. After the first painting he insists on another, and flattery tempts you to accept. You get more comfortable with each painting, and he gets bolder in turn. He begins picking out your clothes, styling your hair, even applying your makeup. The fingertips adjusting your pose before he begins slowly transition from a feather-light touch to something heavy and lingering. But he's in no hurry to break the tension he hopes you feel. As long as he has this time with you, he's content. With a shuddering breath, he dips his brush into the paint and etches his love for you into the canvas once again.

(Part 2 with the Maknae Line?)

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Raindrops falling on my Heart ♡

Leon S. Kennedy x reader

A/N: Well, if that weren't a shitty couple of weeks 🥲 anyway, I am back! The Leon brainrot has been eating at me for months and I finally caved, have some angst! With a happy ending of course, because I have a fragile little heart :) I have some more Leon in my drafts if y'all are interested ;) Enjoy!

~ Fi 🪻

Warnings: talks of alcohol being used as a coping mechanism, badly written fight, potential ooc Leon

Word count: 1.1k

Please don't copy my work! I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.

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"You always do this, Leon!" Your voice echoed through your shared apartment. "You know that it's out of my control" He responded, frustrated. You scoffed. "You were gone for three weeks. Three weeks, Leon!" You yelled, tears stinging in your eyes. "I was sat here, for three goddamn weeks wondering whether you were alive or not. One Text. That is all I ask. 'I'm save' or 'I'm okay' that is all I want. I need to know that you're alright." You pleaded.

He was gone for long periods at a time and you were a nervous wreck, tossing and turning at night, hoping, praying that your lover was alive. It was eating away at you, hearing that knock on the door not knowing whether it was Leon finally coming home or his officials to tell you that he didn't make it. It was agonizing, really.

Leon, who previously had his back turned towards you, turned around. "Sure, just let me tell the bad guys to stop shooting at me so I can text you. Also, have a little more faith in me, you know I wouldn't go down that easy." He spat back. He shook his head, scoffing. Making his way to the door, he grabbed his jacket and keys. "Where are you going?" You asked bitterly. "Bar" he replied coldly. "No, Leon! You don't get to walk away from this. You always do and it's solving absolutely nothi-" you were interrupted by the door slamming in your face.

Hot tears were running down your face. You two fought like this almost everytime he came back after weeks of disappearing. It always ended with Leon threatening to leave for the evening but he never did. Until today. He actually left.

Quiet sobs were escaping your mouth. You clutched your heart with both hands to help soothe the pain. Your Relationship was really put to the test with Leon having such a dangerous job. It was obvious he couldn't just stop the whole mission, but there had to be at least 5 minutes between saving the world and kicking ass where he could let you know that he was alive. Why didn't he understand that you loved him?  Why wouldn't he let you love him? "Stubborn son of Bitch..." you mumbled, tears drying on your cheeks.

Leon angrily stomped out of your apartment building. Having shoved his hands deep into his pockets, he stepped out into the pouring rain. He'd be soaked by the time he got to the local bar but he couldn't care less at the moment. He hated fighting with you, especially over something like this, something you have been over a million times. He kept his head down, the cold rain trickling down his neck into his shirt.

The stores, restaurants and buisnesses that lined the street, cast a bright light onto his face as he looked up, searching for the sign of the bar. He was a regular at this point. Coming in, sitting down at the very back in a cozy corner, and then quietly leaving when he had drunk his anger, frustration and pain away.

Looking around, Leon spotted happy couples roaming the streets on either side. Laughing, holding hands, smiling. It made him sick. How dare they pretend to be perfect when he knows for a fact that they aren't. Every couple fights. How dare they be happy. He shot them a bitter look and went on to get into the warm and dry embrace of the bar.

Reaching for the the door he stopped in his tracks when he heard his name being called.

"Leon.." you spoke, arms wrapped around yourself to keep you warm. "Can we talk? Please?"

He turned to face you. You were soaked. Your wet hair clinging to your forehead and your neck, the flimsy jacket you had grabbed in a rush doing little to keep the pouring rain and cold out. What are you doing here, you're going to get sick was the first thought that popped into his head as he saw you. But he didn't say that.

"What? You come here to yell at me again?" He asked, coldly. You took a couple of steps towards him. "No, I.." you sighed "I love you, Leon. And I care about you. I worry for you. But you just go on your missions thinking you have nothing to lose and no one that cares about you." Tears were starting to roll down your cheeks.

"But I do! I care. You have something to lose. Us. Everything we've been through. Every fight, every sleepless night, every kiss. I just don't understand why you won't you let me love you. You own my heart and take up my every thought. You're the love of my life, Leon. You're my world, my everything. I wouldn't know what to do with myself if anything happened to you. You are loved. I love you. Isn't that enough for you to not storm into every situation recklessly and put your life on the line for-" you were cut off by Leon pressing your head against his chest. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you let all your emotions spill out. Leon stayed quiet as you sobbed into his shirt, your tears mixing with the rain.

"I'm so sorry, Sweetheart" he whispered, you could hear the tremble in his voice. Pulling away from the embrace, you looked at him, seeing the faintest hint of tears in the corner of his eyes. you reached to his face and cupped his cheek gently.

"You deserve to be loved, Leon. Please understand that. You don't have to earn love or prove yourself worthy of it. Being you is enough. I love you." You sniffled, stroking his cheekbone with your thumb. Leon leaned into your touch, placing his hand on yours and pressing it closer to his face. "I-.. Thank you. I love you too. So much." he sighed, a tear escaping his eye.

You gave him a soft, sad smile and carefully brushed the tear aside. "No more fighting, okay?"

"Okay. Let's go home, baby. I think Bingo's on tonight" he grinned at you, placing a sweet kiss to your lips. You two walked home in the cold rain, your hand clutched tightly in Leons.

After a much needed hot shower you were now both cuddled up on the couch, watching your favorite show but basically talking and laughing through the whole thing. You'd missed nights like these with Leon, the cuddling, the loving, the talking. You'd grown distant the last couple of months due to the frequent arguments. But now, all was well and you later fell asleep in Leons loving arms.

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[marietheran]

Panem Dashboard Simulator

(mostly Capitol + a few rebels tbh because who in the Districts has free internet access?)

👠 fashio-capitol-nista follow

I can't believe I just saw Perpetua in a yellow(!!!) maxi(!!!) dress. With feathers(!!!)

Honestly, we should just banish people to the districts for three absolute violations in one article of clothing. And - a maxi dress! No one's been wearing them since spring at least!

(Do you think she was trying to achieve something? So many things wrong could only have been purposeful...)

💎shimerring-gem1 follow

who's even named perpetua?????? is that a name?????

I do'nt think anyone was ever named that lolllll

👠fashio-capitol-nista follow

They're all such idiots tbh, her mother's hair is going gray and the woman's doing nothing about it. She probably thought it - xddd - pretty - to call her daughter rhat! Once I heard Pep explain to someone that it means "forever" or something, who even cares, but she's like that.

I mean - yellow! In Spring 2312!

💮 trying-to-be-a-voice-of-reason-here follow

Maybe she just doesn't care about every single fashion change?

👠fashio-capitol-nista follow

Here's someone to block y'all!

201 notes

🧜merbitch follow

Now with the games approaching, we're probably going to see an uptick in those rebel idiots complaining about imagined ethics ugh

🤍leiiii follow

You cannot force children to fight to the death and complain that people say it's evil

🧜merbitch follow

would you prefer millions of children die in literal wars??? you people pretend you're so high and righteous but you only care for that single 24 and no one else, because it suits your propaganda purposes!

🍭 quintiasquee follow

besides those kids get to experience the luxuries of the capitol so on the whole they're actually better off for it haven't you seen the transmissions of the reapings?? they fight for the chance to compete!

#I mean I know people *here* who would gladly take part if they could #it's a honor for them but ofc you don't *really* care

8,275 notes

👾storiee follow

omx I hate the commercialisation of the games though

#it's sick that whether someone lives or dies is decided by how well they present on camera #it's a death game for goodness sake what can you not understand #saltierthanpretzels

53 notes

⚡colormedazzled follow

Didd you just see the district 12 tributes!!!!????

🩴mamie43 follow

omx, YES!

💥hg-liveblogging follow

I did not have "the D12 tributes actually have good costumes" on my bingo for this year!!!!

👑totallyqn follow

Peeta needs to win this I wanna marry him

#if only I had more money I would totally sponsor him #but I'm saving for a Dom Meren tote bag ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

17,411 notes

☁️dreamofme follow

do you wanna hold my hand as we ride a flaming chariot into glorious battle?

#i would die.... #ahhhh to be her...

409 notes

🔱best-hunger-games-liveblog follow

Peeta is in love with Katniss???!!!!!!!

WHAT WHAT WHAT WHAT

👑totallyqn follow

You broke my heart just now 💔💔💔💔

#I am totally cheering for that bitch to die in the cornucopia #and tbh I don't care about Peeta either anymore #*chants* Marvel Marvel Marvel

2,554 notes

🪺bluet follow

You know what, after Rue's death I don't know if I want to watch anymore... I feel sick. Idk but after I saw her... and the flowers... and then the shop windows with children's clothes and roses. It feels as if she was just like all the children here.

Edit: please stop sending me anon hate

Edit: death threats, really?

3,947 notes

💥hg-liveblogging follow

Did they just change the rules of the freaking GAMES

💥hg-liveblogging follow

1,029 notes

🌈 sjfhiefjf follow

I'm telling you this will be the end of our country.

👤 rebelforlife follow

and good riddance to it!

🫦 qu33n follow

can you report for sedition on tumblr

#i need to know #we've digital ids that the gov knows right

1 009 notes

[kangshxrtie]

ch. 25 ⤍ morning after

"they're so cute!" you heard yunjin's loud ass voice echo through the room, the brightness of a camera flash pulling you out of sleep.

"they are," eunchae whispered, though not very quietly. "until one of them wakes up because y'all are being so loud."

"we should frame this," chaewon added, sounding way too excited.

you decided it was time to let them know you were awake. slowly, you opened your eyes. "you could at least be quiet when you sneak in to take pictures."

as soon as you spoke, chaewon literally jumped, her hand flying to her chest. "holy shit! i told you guys to be quiet!"

yunjin was laughing at how startled chaewon got, "we have to post this, tthe fans would eat this up" she held up her phone, the screen showing you and kazuha cuddled up together in bed.

"you're both literally cuddling like a drama scene," eunchae teased, trying to stifle her giggles. "how are we supposed to not take a picture of that?"

you groaned, hiding your face in your hands. "why are you all like this?"

"because," yunjin teased, "it's not every day we catch you and kazuha in a... compromising position."

kazuha, who was still half-asleep and had barely registered what was going on, blinked slowly and mumbled something incoherent, clearly not yet awake enough to understand what was going on. her arm was still loosely wrapped around you, and she made no move to pull away, even as the teasing continued.

"what even time is it?" you mumbled, pulling the blanket over your head in an attempt to escape their teasing.

"it's 9 a.m.," yunjin replied, sounding way too awake for your liking. "sakura's making breakfast, but we had to come and check on the couple first."

"couple?" you repeated, your voice muffled under the blanket.

yunjin snickered, "i mean, look at you two!"

with a sigh, you pulled the blanket back down, revealing your face again. you glanced over at kazuha, who was still slowly waking up, blinking sleepily as she finally registered the conversation. "huh? what... what's happening?" she mumbled, her voice soft and confused.

"they're taking pictures of us," you whispered to her.

kazuha's eyes widened slightly in surprise, her cheeks flushing a little as she realized the position you two were in. "oh... i didn't even—" she began, but yunjin cut her off.

"it's fine, zuha! you two are cute!" yunjin teased, grinning.

"stop bullying us, we just woke up," you said, sitting up a little, but you couldn't help the small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

"seriously, though. we should go down for breakfast unless we need to leave for the two of you to get out of bed." chaewon said.

"we weren't even doing anything!" you protested, laughing now as you tried to defend yourself.

"uh-huh," eunchae nodded dramatically, playing along. "sure, sure, you weren't."

kazuha, who was finally awake enough to join the conversation properly, sat up and looked over at you, her lips twitching into a smile. "we really weren't, though."

you turned to look at her, feeling the warmth between you two from the night before still lingering. she was blushing but didn't seem uncomfortable—more like she was quietly enjoying the teasing.

"see, even she said it," you added.

yunjin just waved it off. "doesn't matter. the internet's gonna explode once i post this anyway."

your eyes widened. "you're not posting that!"

"yeah, no," kazuha agreed quickly, her voice still a bit sleepy but firm.

yunjin pretended to consider it for a moment, "hmm... but think about the fans."

"yunjin!" you and kazuha both exclaimed at the same time, making the others burst into laughter.

"fine, fine, i won't post it," yunjin relented, "but it's staying in my personal collection."

you rolled your eyes, grateful that it wouldn't be all over social media. "i hate it here."

yunjin just grinned, clearly proud of herself. "you love us."

you sighed, but you couldn't deny that she was right. "yeah, yeah."

the teasing eventually died down, and chaewon, eunchae, and yunjin finally left the room, probably to bother sakura in the kitchen instead. you glanced at kazuha, who was still sitting beside you, her cheeks still a little flushed from all the teasing.

"sorry about that," kazuha said with a sheepish smile.

you shook her head, her lips curling into a soft smile. "it's fine. i don't mind."

you felt a little awkward, unsure of what to say now that the others were gone. the room was quiet again, and the weight of everything from last night hung between you two. it wasn't uncomfortable—just... different.

"so... breakfast now?" kazuha asked, breaking the silence.

"yeah," you said, awkwardly rubbing the back of your neck, "we should probably hurry before they think... something else is happening."

kazuha let out a small giggle. "right, can't have them coming back up here," she said, sliding off the bed and stretching her arms out.

you followed suit, standing up and trying to regain your composure. you were still processing the fact that you had spent the night cuddling with her after the dream which she didn't even know about and you don't think you could ever tell her.

when you entered the kitchen, it was as if the room collectively paused for a second, like they were waiting to see how you two would act. they were all seated at the table, eyeing the two of you.

"finally! my favorite couple!" yunjin announced dramatically.

you rolled your eyes. "shut up."

kazuha just smiled and headed straight for the kitchen counter. "at least i'm getting some."

the room erupted into a mix of laughter and groans at kazuha's bold remark. you felt your face heat up immediately, and you shot her a look, half embarrassed, half impressed at how easily she threw that out there.

yunjin, of course, was the first one to speak up afterward, "i see what's happening here."

"mind your business," you told her playfully going over to where kazuha was grabbing herself a plate from the counter and filling it with whatever was left of breakfast. you grabbed a plate as well, keeping your head down to avoid any more teasing glances. but you knew they were all curious and just waiting for you to sit down so they could start the questioning.

"so," chaewon started, her voice casual but clearly fishing for something, "what all happened last night?"

kazuha's expression stayed relaxed as she dug into her food. "we just talked and then slept.."

chaewon raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting that answer. "uh-huh... and nothing unusual? just a... normal sleep?"

you sat down across from kazuha, shooting chaewon a look. "can we just not talk about it?"

"absolutely not?" yunjin chimed in with a grin. "we're just curious, you know? i mean, you two were so cute this morning."

you glared at her.

sakura, who had been relatively quiet, finally spoke up, giving you both a teasing smile. "we just wanna know if we need to have a talk with the two of you."

"next time we have to lock the door," you told kazuha.

"next time?" chaewon repeated teasingly.

kazuha's eyes flicked over to you, and she was trying not to laugh.

"that's not what i meant!" you tried to say.

kazuha shook her head, finally giving in to her own laughter. "okay, enough. can we just eat in peace?"

"fine~," yunjin said, waving her hand dismissively. "we'll drop it... for now."

the room quieted down a bit after that, and for a while, it was just the sound of forks clinking against plates and the occasional murmur of conversation. you tried to relax and focus on your food, but every now and then, you'd glance up and catch kazuha's eye. she'd smile softly, and you'd feel that familiar flutter in your chest, reminding you of everything that had happened the night before.

it wasn't long before you felt something under the table—a slight pressure on your leg. you glanced down subtly and realized kazuha's foot had brushed against yours. at first, you thought it was an accident, but then she did it again, this time more deliberately. you glanced up at her, and she gave you a playful look, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

you shifted slightly in your seat, but then kazuha's hand found yours under the table. it was a small, simple gesture, but it sent a wave of warmth through you. you weren't sure how long you stayed like that, holding hands under the table while pretending nothing was happening. the others were too busy with their own conversations to notice, and for once, you were grateful for the distraction.

eventually, the meal wrapped up, and the others started clearing their plates, still talking and laughing as they moved around the kitchen. as everyone started cleaning up, you and kazuha sat there for a moment longer, not saying anything but just enjoying the quiet moment between you.

but eventually, you had to move. kazuha slowly let go of your hand, and you both stood up to clear your plates, giving you a small smile as she passed by.

"should we lock ourselves in our rooms for a while?" yunjin's voice broke the moment, her grin wide as she leaned against the counter.

you rolled your eyes, "shut up yunjin," you muttered, placing your dishes in the sink.

kazuha just smiled and shrugged, "and if i said yes"

yunjin played along with a smile, "please not in the kitchen, we eat here."

before either of you could respond sakura cut in, waving a spatula in yunjin's direction. "leave them alone already, yunjin. they've had enough this morning."

"fine, fine," yunjin said, throwing her hands up in surrender. "i'll behave. for now."

you sighed in relief, grateful for the temporary break in the teasing, but you had a feeling this wasn't the last you'd hear of it. as you helped finish tidying up the kitchen, you couldn't help but steal a few more glances in kazuha's direction. there was something about the way she carried herself—calm, yet playful—that made your heart race in a way you hadn't expected. the morning's events felt like a blur, but one thing was becoming clearer: whatever was happening between the two of you, it was definitely something.

"so," kazuha's voice suddenly broke through your thoughts as she stood next to you at the sink, "what's the plan for today?"

you shrugged, trying to act casual even though you were still very aware of how close she was standing. "i don't know. maybe we can just chill, do something low-key."

she nodded, leaning against the counter as she looked at you with a soft smile. "sounds good. i'm down for whatever."

for a moment, the two of you just stood there, the conversation around the kitchen fading into the background. you wanted to say something, anything, but the words just wouldn't come. instead, you found yourself just... enjoying her presence.

finally, yunjin's voice rang out again, breaking the moment. "we're hanging out if you two want join, or let us know if we need to turn the tv all the way up."

you shot her a glare, but kazuha just laughed, shaking her head. "let's go before they start up again," she whispered to you.

you nodded, following her out of the kitchen. even as you rejoined the rest of the group, sitting down on the couch with everyone else, obviously next to kazuha who immediately wrapped her arm around you, which did come with some teasing comments from her members but you didn't pay much attention to them.

as the group settled into casual conversations and laughter, the teasing eventually died down, and you found yourself relaxing more leaning into kazuha's side.

"comfortable?" she asked, glancing down at you with a small smile.

"yeah," you replied, a soft smile on your lips. "really comfortable."

ALL CHAPTERS !!! | NEXT CH !!!

[beanghostprincess]

Sometimes I feel like Shuggy is a sort of Lusopp gone wrong, especially with the w7 fight hilighting Usopp's insecurities and how Buggy may have felt some insecurities as well towards Shanks..

I am not gonna write a long text about this because I am busy however, I have so many thoughts about this. I've been having this exact same thought for a long time, because I was like "wow Luffy doesn't usually explain what happened to people. In general. He doesn't stay in the past. But if Shanks asked about their journey and his rough times, maybe he'd end up telling him about Usopp and Water 7. And Shanks would relate to it to a personal level so damn hard- At least he'd be proud Luffy was able to deal with it". And after this thought, I just can't unsee it.

Buggy and Usopp are really similar. They both have those "fake it til you make it" type of "coward" personalities and they wish to be more than what they're seen as, because they feel like everyone shines brighter than them. I think the main difference here is that Usopp has a crew that supports him and his environment is wayyy healthier than Buggy's. He can grow as a person with them and learn to be braver and stronger and not compare himself to others. Be his own person and grow to the point of accepting himself. The whole thing about Usopp's journey is a personal thing, because his crew already knows what he's capable of, he just wants to prove it to himself. Buggy, on the other hand, doesn't have the luck to be surrounded by people that genuinely believe in him. Like, okay, he has followers and subordinates that always keep treating him like a king, but they don't make him feel like one because he just keeps on pretending instead of trying to grow as a pirate accept himself. Which is understandable because why the hell would he do that if there's no point to do it? He gave up on his dream and now he's just doing the "fake it til you make it" to survive. With chapter 1082 (Y'all really should tell me to shut up about that chapter. It's just... I just miss Buggy and Cross Guild I really need another chapter about them) I think we could have a lot of character development for Buggy because he now has decided to follow his dream after all these years. It's basically the same story as Usopp's, except that it has taken him years to do this because his insecurities are tied to a relationship that doesn't have any closure.

Shuggy really is a Lusopp gone wrong, and it makes me so sad but it's just another great way of showing parallelisms between Shanks and Luffy and how the new generation is doing things differently (and better).

Usopp left the crew using the death of Merry as an excuse to cover the real reason (feeling completely insecure as he's surrounded by people stronger than him and he doesn't feel like he belongs with them) and Buggy left Shanks using the excuse of having been tricked into eating a Devil Fruit and losing the map to cover the fact that he did it because... Not exactly because he felt insecure being in Shanks' shadow. See? This is the main difference between the two. Buggy didn't leave Shanks because of feeling insecure (although, yes, it's a really important point of the story and it's pretty much crucial to their relationship and his decision to leave Shanks), he left because he trusted him to follow Roger's steps but he didn't. He gave up on his dream to trust Shanks instead and that's what Shanks does? Throw their dream away?

Lusopp's thing is more about Usopp's personal growth, but the whole deal with Shuggy's relationship is a bit more messed up because it's full of miscommunication, mourning and insecurities and it's a thing they have to deal with together.

But yeah, what I'm trying to say is that their relationships are pretty similar and I really, really want Shuggy to have closure because otherwise I will forever be sad.

[aurea-corde]

I've never seen a single episode of anything related to watcher but I am eating up all this drama. Also sorry to y'all going through this

i appreciate that anon 😭 i've seen several good nuanced takes on the situation thankfully. the company definitely did mess up how it introduced the streaming service to people: they said in the video they were going to paywall all existing and new content and then in the comments and in the variety article pretended like that was never their intent. the variety article reveals that they were in fact initially told watcher was going to delete all existing content. the CEO in particular but in general all the founders said that the amount they are charging is affordable - specifically that anyone could afford it - which no they can't obviously. As they are now finding out the hard way. The CEO Steven also made an instagram post insinuating people who wouldn't subscribe just no longer want to watch them, rather than the reality which is that a massive majority of the audience can't afford to. Because he is the CEO, people are blaming the entire thing on him, but it's also important to remember there are actually three founder-owners with decision-making abilities in the company. Shane and Ryan are adults, and the way people are acting like Steven is some kind of dictator, Ryan just went along with it but Shane is the people's anticapitalist hero who was simply outvoted is not a great look. Especially the posts that refuse to acknowledge even the possibility of racial biases here. Mistakes were made, poc are not immune to criticism, but let's consider why so many feel like Shane was forced into this by the evil Steven (and people in the comments have literally called him evil for this) and either lump Ryan in with him or give Ryan no agency in the situation whatsoever. Steven is the most likely to have made the proposal as the closest thing Watcher has to a business-minded founder, but the other two clearly agreed with him. They could have just decided not to be in the video. I also don't see a world where they contractually obligated themselves to every whim of Steven's like some people are suggesting.

Do I think they're a bit sheltered in their LA life? Yeah, probably. I'm pretty sheltered myself - I live a comfortable middle class life in Australia, have a good job and am studying law. I could definitely afford the subscription. But I don't want to atm, or at least until they respond to the situation. Are they the worst most evil capitalists because they want to charge money for the content they create? No, not inherently. People supported them on Patreon because of course creatives should be paid for their labour, and ideally paid well enough to live comfortably. But the combo of bad business decisions (e.g. hiring too many staff too quickly while also wanting to pay them above a living wage, not advertising the patreon, not utilising revenue streams that aren't a streaming service like youtube memberships, spending what Ryan has said is hundreds of thousands of dollars on a single season of a series they have called Ghost Files) and the fact the CEO is pretty open about his comfortable lifestyle (drives a tesla which btw folks isn't a luxury car it's just a more expensive one, has a $300 matcha machine, has a series based on fine dining vs more affordable restaurants), means people are understandably mad because they are struggling financially and the founders (from what we know) are not - but they're trying to tell people that 6 USD is affordable for everyone.

It's a lot less to do with the fact of them charging for content as much as the way they went about it and in particular how it's been phrased to people has come across really insensitive. There's other logistics with the streaming service itself that were not thought out at all for international viewers, but I won't get into that here. And the pretending they were always going to leave their content up and telling viewers not to spread misinformation is scummy to me - at least acknowledge that was a mistake you made and backtracked on. It's just a mess but I really loved their videos and hope they make Youtube's Greatest Apology Video Ever (unironically) and try to undo some of the damage.

edit: someone in the replies made a great point that teslas could actually be considered a luxury car in some countries outside of the US, and I fully agree that 6 USD is 1) too much for what they offer, esp in this economic climate and 2) wayyyyy too much when converted to other currencies. I've seen other Australians say the conversion is too much for them but I know viewers in other countries say it comes out to literally thousands for them - if they can even access the site at all from their country.

[mcsm-confessions]

Hello everyone would y'all like to hear about the hit AU (with 0 content so far outside of my own mind and the mind of a friend) known as MCSMMMMMM? [pronounced Minecraft Story Mode Mode Mode Mode Mode Mode]

What started as a single joke spiraled into a need to make a crack-taken-seriously kinda story, except now it's less "crack" and more "taken seriously," at least in my brain

(I apologize in advance for all the writing. TL;DR: Six Jesse's. Rewritten characters. Canon gayness. At least one therian. Hopefully unproblematic disability rep. The pig doesn't die for dramatic effect.)

To start off, the comical name comes from the fact that there are six Jesse's! All with very slightly different spellings of the same name, all with the same unnamed father but each one coming from different mothers, all also unnamed.

Unfortunately, due to the increased number of cast members... two Jesse's replace Axel and Olivia. I know, it sucks, I love them too, but let's be honest, even the games forget they exist past episode 4. We can all pretend they still exist in the MCSMMMMMM universe, they're just... off living that quiet cottagecore domestic life ig. Nothing will be confirmed though.

Lukas and Petra still exist though! Lukas will date an m!Jesse who also happens to have a congenital amputation (born amputee) on one leg. Petra will date an f!Jesse who is verbally mute but is fluent in Builder Sign Language. [did I mention the "humans" in MCSMMMMMM are called Builders? They are called Builders. That is their species XD]

Some people aren't just "humans" either, such as the white f!Jesse who will be part piglin! Though her siblings will assume she is part pig for quite some time before understanding the truth. Reuben guessed the whole time, but it's not like he could just say that. I do fully expect him to become injured in episode 4, but he is NOT going to poof into a porkchop corpse, I promise. I don't have any current plans to kill him off at all, actually. He's a sweet bby and deserves to be happy. Also I want him to meet Lluna.

I am also VERY open to suggestions from the rest of the fandom on how to make this story better! I want to listen to everyone's biggest complaints and praises so I can get the right idea about what direction to take if I ever do start writing this all down! MCSM deserves only the best and we shall provide <3

If anyone has any questions at all, I can also do my best to answer them accordingly! So far most of my ideas are for season 1 but I have a few things planned for season 2 and onward as well~

-- ✨🦕

~~~

[plasticfangtastic]

American Royalty. Ch. 9

A Homelander x F! Reader/Dadlander fanfic

A/N: so sorry for the long delay, was a bit overwhelmed irl and needed a break from writing, and this chapter its the longest on the fic and editing it was a difficult. thank you so much for reading Hope y'all like it and warning this is a long chapter fr fr-- prev. chapter here:

Tags: mild gore, angst, slow burn, fluff, oc characther, child neglect, dadlander, romance, child murder mention, murder mention.

Chapter Nine

Tally

A field trip to the museum of natural history was scheduled for the day and to your daughter's unsurprised annoyance– here was her father riding the school bus too… 

Homelander had made a surprising decision.

This was his way to win you both, putting himself more and more present in your lives as gently as he could muster, suddenly taking special interest in her schooling, as this was important to you both– more than you had anticipated, he would have. 

Joining the PTA board, not even making an immediate fuss on the injustice of not being worshiped on sight, acting maturely even if slightly jaded about not being handed the head of the table upon blessing them with his presence– but there he was helping out when asked by the other members with fundraisers and other volunteer works if possible. 

He would come and watch them do their homework-- one while at work and the other at his home, coming over every night to tuck her in, for Ryan went to bed at 9 like a good kid and Helena did not turn sleepy ‘til midnight, flying to school almost everyday to make sure both children were still present, and to pick up Ryan. 

Wishing he could take her too but strong enough to accept he couldn't just yet… his many enemies and detractors a source of constant concern in your mind, so even if it hurt, Homelander knew it was the safest thing he could do for now, the simplest thing to ease your worries for the time being.

 Helena was more concerned about how such a busy man had enough time to spare just to stop-by to make sure his kids entered the right car, how he had time to follow the driver to make sure he took the fastest route and that his behavior was proper– poor time management skills and a small battalion of distressed assistants, she thought.

It killed him, it killed him to play a stranger towards her, wishing he could do more than wave good morning and good afternoon, finding himself being stared at by the other caregivers as he gawked at his daughter for too long while she waited for her driver or as she was dropped off by you or her driver in the morning, as you no longer let her walk to school. The girl did a better job at pretending not to know him, offering flat smiles at best while he tried to keep his expression blank.

You couldn’t deny he was trying so dearly to be there.

He found it irritating how easy it was for Helena to talk to the driver than it was to talk to her own father, embitter at the lightness in her voice. The two filling the space with discussions about growing up in the eastern bloc, about how the 60+ year old had worked as a taxi driver for over 20 years before turning to the private sector because the hours were better, about coming to the country in his late teens, fascinated about how his father had raised 2 kids then his 2 nephews after the death of his sister, about how he worked in the sanitation department until he was 80 years old– she spoke with ease to the older man, while stiff and impersonal with him, perpetually cautious around him. Homelander would’ve replaced him on the spot had he not had the itchy feeling that she would get angry at him for it.

The two could discuss work with ease at least– she was quick to unravel office politics and their thousands unspoken rules, coming to understand how Vought's hierarchy was more than just letters outside of doors, and salaries, quite easily.

Engrossed by the bizarre world of Superhero shenanigans, eager to learn what it took to manage the powered and unruly, what it really took to make a Supe, and the spoken human cost that kept the light on… it was all required reading in order to understand how the business was– these people were ultimately vapid and dangerous. A-Train was still a soft spot for her (she was okay with making exception after all everybody did the same) they discussed movie deals and product branding with more spit than it took discussing actual hero work, saving people and doing good was not even secondary to their priorities, while others in the same building discussed murders and other colorful cover-ups made by her fellow brethren over the water cooler. At first The Seven had been opposed to her presence… silently of course, to have a stranger moseying around their territory was unnerving much less a child… but once it became common knowledge that the little would-be tyrant was not a normal child they had turned far more self-conscious, but all it had taken was one look from Homelander daring them voice their discomforts for all of them to shower her with pleasantries and complements, for all of them to act as if she wasn't in the room.

Helena was quick to note how much of a fooney her father was-- faking and selling niceties with believable charm as if this was his normal behavior in their meetings, it was beyond obvious in the unsaid way everybody was fearful of his bite that he was just acting for her sake, confusing the lot, making them wonder why he did such a thing to impress a precocious stranger– Helena could see him squirming in his seat, squeezing his fists, desperate to lash out whenever The Seven irritated him. 

As long as she sat in the room he denied his true nature, she took note of it… curious as to how catastrophic it would be once he reached boiling point, wanting to know if she could push his buttons even further out of morbid curiosity.

The group theorized what truly motivated his behavioral changes, some believed the online whispers of netizens, while others had a more insipid suspicions, thankful that in the long list of abilities he had did not include telepathy– regardless it was nice to not be murdered on the spot for their misdemeanors.

She thought it would’ve been easy if he just spilled the beans but at this point both yours and Homelander’s relationship status had been kept under wraps– the board and Ashley had been the only ones informed. A matter of strategic release, it seemed.

Coming headfirst and dropping the news was considered but the spectacle that came from Homelander’s reveal of Ryan had been grating and a nightmare for the company-- but as the writing team worked their magic, the revelation was woven into a dramatic narrative, feeding scraps and crumbs to the curious masses just to kept the conversation, Ryan had been kept safe from netizens during the trail days, the internet speculated without permission about Homelander's personal life and his son– but now they were invited to do so for you and by extension Helena.

It had all begun from a paparazzi scoop, a staged candid photo showing Homelander in civvie cosplay and you his blushing partner staring at each other romantically, then the money shot of you two kissing in pretend secrecy.

The public went wild with it, for years Homelander’s many relationships were a source of entertainment so this was just another thing for consumption, many tried to learn  about you, the first images just grainy and purposefully angled poorly to kept your partially obscured, with each week after the original release more and more images began circulating… culminating in Homelander’s own social media account announcing his shocking engagement to a young New York chef.

It was all the news could talk about, and now Helena had to bear the public’s sudden interest.

People wanted to know all the details, to know all there was to know about you, your unmarketable story had been handled by Vought making you feel safe but that had been a nightmare on its own, but that was for later…

It would’ve been easy if she at least had Elmo to confide with, if Helena had anybody but her driver and her lab assistant to talk to.

But there she was forever in the confines of her mind, lost in books, and playing chess at school and chess-rooms.

Homelander had noted how quiet she’d become, more than usual… spying from a distance witnessing his daughter’s loneliness and unable to help– At school she was a loner, expected from a child that stood out too much, a child with poor socialization skills and her abrasive personality it wasn't surprising, spending her lunchest alone and break times in the library or the music room honing her skills instead of socializing, on the occasion she could converse with one of the older kids in her music class, bringing a smile to his face… sounding so much like a girl as the older kid taught her a piece– she wasn’t like Ryan who had come out of his shell, making a small group of buddies and acquaintances with ease but Helena hadn’t had any luck. John knew from you, that she had always been like that, with time she would find somebody, that he should be patient, for Helena was resilient… but he couldn’t bear to look at it.

And he knew just what to do.

Sven Cripple wasn’t what he expected– Just another schmuck in marketing that liked to dress in casual clothes to stand out in the office, thinking of Nigel, this man certainly seemed misplaced on the other’s side. He was lanky and tall, his pale blonde hair natural and his nose protruding… it was the tattoos and piercings that looked out of place next to that new money prude. The man gave him an ill-conceived stern look, before washing it with fake friendliness.

“How can I help you Homelander?” He said, looking as his team hurried out of the room.

“Just wanted to come down for a chat… how’s little Elmo doing? Haven’t seen him in daycare for a while.”

“We decided to take Elmo out for the time being–

“Just because my daughter is around” He cut him– that’s a bit cruel.”

“With all due respect sir… your daughter tried to kill my son,” he said with a snap.

“You mean: tried to make him better by increasing his chances of success in this industry.” Homelander tried to remain friendly– I’ve heard that Elmo's health hasn’t deteriorated in the least, and has gotten quite good with his new found powers.”

“Yes, he is doing well. Thank you for your concern, sir.” He took his laptop from the table– is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Yes, bring Elmo back to daycare” Homelander dug into his belt pulling out a pamphlet from Helena’s school– "Is a great school, Elmo would surely thrive there.”

Sven dare not take the piece of paper, feeling nervous as Homelander stares down at him from beneath.

The man took a deep breath wanting nothing but to end the conversation and head back to work.

“Thank you but we like Elmo’s school and we aren’t–

“You live in Chinatown don’t you? Forsyth street, right? Lovely apartment, great price for a three bedroom in this city, decent enough to house that yappy little doodle-mix… so cute! Love your decour who doesn't love mid-century modern… and surprisingly quiet streets plus you’re near an okay school at walking distance and for that price– what a bargain! I’m so jealous” He spoke so smoothly, licking his teeth as he took a step forward– now… just between us. Man to Man… concerned father to concerned dad…” He took the man by the chin cupping his face to force him to watch him straight in the eyes– you’re going to get your store bought misborn brat, and you are going to bring him back to daycare. You’re going to enroll him into this school, and let him and Helena be best friends forever or I’m going to make you eat him. I’ll sit you down and your fucking husband and serve him to you in a platter with so much ssamjang you would lick your fingers from how delicious it was! And then I’ll kill your husband and your yappy little gay dog before you’re framed for their murders.” He says with a smile.

Sven felt his bladder almost empty as the red lights burned so hot, his eyes had turned dry and his lips chapped from the heat radiating from him.

“Now you can go and tell anybody about what I just said, and try to get me in trouble but just so you know… I’m so fast and little kids don’t run that well…. even flying ones; Or you could do as I say and we can pretend to be buddies, right champ?” He gave the man’s cheek a light tap as he turned the lights off– I think Helena and Elmo would make a great team… does he miss her? Don’t lie to me.”

“He’s been upset lately.” he whispers.

Homelander squints but it's pleased at the man’s meek demeanor.

“I know sometimes we parents have to make hard decisions but think about it… it's what you and Nigel always wanted… for him to be famous… under my wing he'll achieve more than any other Supe could, I have this grand vision and I know without him Helena won’t like it… it would benefit him regardless.”

“That's not what–

“You gave him V! Don't act so sanctimonious why else would you if it wasn’t for personal gain!? To make sure he never got a cold!? Please save it… maybe not you… maybe Nigel, but you gave him compound V for a reason. So don’t squander your investment. You are just another greedy wannabe trophy parent.” He spat on his shoe– I expect to see the kid by next week at the latest, förstått?” 

Sven crumbled behind him, making music for Homelander’s ears as the man realized just who Homelander truly was, knowing full well that there was nobody in this building that he could turn to, too afraid to find out what would transpire dare he tried to run.

By next week he could barely contain his smug satisfaction as he saw the kid return– he had done something you couldn’t with such ease, whereas you try talking to Nigel, try to build a connection via apologies that the man hadn’t care for after giving him space… he had given your child his friend back.

While there was no dramatic run towards each other, there was that sweet little smile on her face as they both sat together to draw.

By next month he would join her in school… admittedly Homelander did forget that the kid was in the 2nd grade but even with the distance, they still found ways to see each other… After all, a kid sneaking out of class didn’t stand out if she looked like any other grade schooler.

It was something… it was more than he ever had… he would’ve killed to have at least one more person with him in that room, one he could actually touch… he wanted to give her everything he could but for the first time he shared some of your grief.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?”

Helena ceased to move her fingers from the keys, instead of attending study sessions she had wandered off to one of the music rooms, the teachers well aware and unconcerned.

“Shouldn’t you be in study hall or the library?”

“I like it here.” She turns slightly to face him– you didn't answer my question.”

“I was in the area and decided to come by and say hi.”

“This isn’t your territory and that’s not allowed.” she says firmly.

 “Saw that Elmo started attending school– Mr. Radmilo told me he saw you talking to a kid yesterday evening… a boy that sounded a lot like Elmo.”

Helena chortled mightily amused by his poor performance, before she could say a thing he sat by her side placing a couple fingers making a tune with his fingers, she was tempted to follow him and test if he had any skills.

“That was your doing wasn’t it? Mom wasn’t making any strides in that department… What did you do?”

“I am The Homelander and their boss… would you tell me no, if you were them?”

Helena could only imagine what he would do to strangers he didn’t care about, compared to what he had done to you… he might’ve been worse. She leaned against him playing a couple keys just to play along– it was awful to admit but she was glad, she was glad her friend was back, glad that her lunchest wouldn’t be so lonely, that at least she could sneak out to the playground and hang out with him, that she had somebody to talk to.

“Thank you… do you play?”

“Noir used to play… I would stop by his apartment and he would play for me from time to time… I was taught a couple tunes but it was never for me… I miss it… listening to him.”

“He doesn’t play anymore?”

“That’s just a guy being paid to wear his suit… kept the brand– That’s not my Noir… so anyways… I was thinking you and I can ditch school for the day and hang out before we come back to pick up, Ryan.”

Her eyes opened wide, smirking at the suggestion.

“Asking me to ditch school… that’s not a good thing to encourage…”

“Are you going to fall behind if you do?”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders pulling her closer, playing with her hair.

“Nope!” She did like the feeling of being pet, it was nice, his hands bigger than yours, feeling so small under his glove and wishing it wasn’t there at all– where are we going?”

“I wanted to show you one of my favorite places in the world.” He said with a glimmer in his eyes– I think you’ll love it!”

She nodded and pushed herself free, letting him drag her out of the school while everybody was bored in class, he tucked her firmly in his arms holding her head against his chest as he took flight.

How could anybody ever get used to this sinking feeling in the gut that comes from the rapid ascent, the way her ears close shut and the taste of blood flooded into her mouth, how did a normal human withstand this when her body was above average yet still struggled, she squeezed his body the best she could, unable to speak or breath. Her mind works fast, knowing this would be risky but she builds a small bubble, gasping as everything around her cranium suddenly feels back at home.

Inside her bubble nothing moves, the air it's still but clear, below the neck it was left to god.

Homelander looked down catching those frightened little hands clutching at him, he slowed down so quickly he made himself queasy, flying was no different from breathing or sleeping to him, he looked down hoping she hadn’t lost consciousness, his throat closing on itself as she took a second to look up shivering in his arms, he squeezed her tight and began his descent, still a couple hundred miles from his destination. 

The ground felt otherworldly as he landed with a soft thud under his boot.

“Am so sorry…” He choked, his body matching hers as he collapses placing her down to check for her wounds, tears welling up making it hard to see.

“Too fast… Too fast” She muttered, trying not to cry as she watched him do the same– okay… that was mach 2?”

He nodded frantically, eyes flooding as he found nothing wrong with her organs.

“Let’s try mach 1… or turtle… do I have any organ failure? I don’t fe-fe-feel I do.” She said as she squatted on the ground making sure to feel the grass on her hands– let’s do that again.”

“Is all good… oh dear god you’re good!” He broke first.

She petted his hair, slumping on his shoulders forming a bubble around her body preventing her father from holding her further, he watched her confusedly as her body slid away from him.

“Actually go full speed I wanna test something” Shaking off her initial fright with ease– take the bubble and go full speed. I need to know something… What a great opportunity to test my abilities!” She said cheerfully– my body it’s able to withstand it to a degree… I was dizzy and I had difficulty breathing but I didn’t bleed… my ears hurt so its likely my eardrums would have bursted if I hadn’t enveloped my head but who knows when that would've happen."

“What are you on about?” He said nervousy.

“Everything is an opportunity to learn! Is okay– is not like I inherited your physiology, all I got was a hearty dose of compound V.” She rubbed her chin– wonder tho… Ryan is a carbon copy of you... there are records of powers being “inheritable” altho there isn’t much research on the matter– would love it if I could use Ryan for research later on, if possible." She mumbled to herself-- Pick me up and let’s go. I need to see if my bubble can withstand high speeds!”

Homelander had a difficult time understanding, for a moment he considered letting her know but the voice in his head told him to keep quiet just for a little longer.

He had a hard time figuring out the most comfortable way to lift the bubble, forcing her to make it smaller for ergonimic reasons, from inside she could find his fingers reshaping the surface by sheer force, a terrifying discovery.

It was no different from a carnival ride, her body flung against the wall of the bubble, the wind rippling all over the surface, pressure forcing her against one direction, but she could still move forward.

They reached the clearing outside an old farmhouse, a dusty american flag waving in the wind of the light blue and gray house, a large tree faced the front and Helena could only recognize it from an episode of Supes in America, he placed her carefully under the tree’s shadow, a wind chime coloured the wind, as she took a step out, following his lead as he entered the house forgetting he had brought her along for a second, the rustling leaves sung alongside rusted chimes, she looked at the overgrown grass and weeds lining the front yard, at last season’s dead leaves and fresh dead ones littered across the porch.

Inside everything had been covered in sheets, old cobwebs had made a home in the once cozy house, and picture frames caked in layers of dust clouding familiar faces.

Homelander headed for the living room where an old piano decorated with plane models adorned the room. She remembered the episode somewhat… expecting a retelling of factoids she could pull out from some youtube clip in an instant, a picture of an older blonde couple holding a small toddler in blue, white and red stripes, in fact they all were wearing some shade of red and blue, she noted.

Helena climbed to the piano picking the photograph as her father just followed quietly.

“Were they nice? Mine suck, lol.”

“They would’ve loved you. I’m sure of it.’ He spoke quietly– mom loved the piano too… I always wanted to hear the old thing play again.”

Helena smiled putting the photo by the dining table before it, flicking the lid open and scouring the music sheet for a decent tune, Homelander sat on the wooden table watching her hands play 'Schubert– moment musicaux No. 3', her fingers long enough to not strain her hand as she started to get to the most difficult parts of the intermediate song.

“Just like mom used to play… you must’ve gotten it from her.”

“Thank you.” Her fingers began to move to a different tempo, speeding up as she began a different concerto, Homelander picked it up watching her quizzically as her hands moved faster and faster, there was a darkness in the music– she must’ve been a virtuoso to be able to play Brahms most obnoxious pieces as a hobby!”

Her fingers smashed on the keys as the Hungarian dance sped up, missing notes and pains building all the way up her elbow– quitting all together, cursing at her fingers for being too short, cursing at her arms, wiping the sweat of her brow angrily.

She took the music sheet book flipping its cover towards Homelander to reveal the author, he should’ve known the set designers or prop makers had no care for the little things.

“What’s going on?”

Homelander swallowed a couple knots looking down away from her, he stood up.

“…follow me”

She dragged herself out of that piano as her father headed upstairs, his feet loud on the creaky floorboards, the halls just as dusty and quiet on the floors above, the fragrance of mildew and time permeated in the air, all the doors were shut except for one– the cream coloured walls adorned with frames pictures of baseball stadiums, small league baseball team flags with a tiger mascot sprinkled on the wall, and model airplanes hung from the ceiling decorated the small children bedroom. She gave a rounded look to the room, spotting the small bookcase filled with blue spines, a stack of worn down Hardy Boys’s books, and a cute wood carved rabbit.

Grimacing at the massive poster of the American declaration of independence with its tacky eagle/flag shield drawing on top, she shouldn’t criticized for her walls were mostly bare but this felt odd, decorated with books and awards she had won, her only pretty poster was a polaroid of a cat she found at a garage sale, but there was something bizarre being witness. It felt made for TV, it didn’t feel natural once the warm filter was off.

The room wasn’t as dusty as the floor below, he paused before the small collection of trophies on top of the dressers fidgeting until they were all straight, giving the room an odd look around before slumping on top of the children’s bed, a bit of dust danced on the sunlight, Homelander took the red cap off the bed post throwing it at Helena’s direction, Helena opted to sit on the small gangnam print armchair, putting the hat to humor him.

“You don’t get any whiter.” Her eyes keep staring at the poster– you always been this needlessly patriotic?”

“What? You have dissenting opinions against the government? You little anarchist.”

“This country is run by senile geriatrics and billionaire oligarchs… but above all… humans.”

He fixed the pillow as he closed his eyes with a light chuckle clinging on his lips.

“Humans… you think it shouldn’t be them?”

“Supes are a minority, humans would always lead nations no matter how many of us are around. They could use with a fresh pair of eyes, tho… not to mention you could kill a lot of those in charge and it would be a good thing.”

“Bit extreme."

“Maybe growing up in a place like this makes it difficult to understand what it's like to live on the side of those the government deems a burden.”

“I didn’t grow up in a place like this– this is all fake…” Homelander opened his eyes slowly, staring at the silver plane dangling from his roof, blowing with enough force to make it spin on its threads– they built this for TV… my room didn’t have anything… just a bed… a toilet and sink– no bathtub or shower in case I tried to kill myself or hurt myself if I showered or something! Nothing else… just bare walls… not even a window just an air vent.”

Helena cocked her head, brows touching as she heard him talk, her eyes gliding back at that stupid poster.

“You were in foster care? I’ve seen the Vought operated orphanage facilities… not exactly optimal.”

Homelander turned on the bed wanting to tell her all the things he held, but his tongue turned so heavy he dare not… not yet… would she pity him? would she think of him as pathetic? It was hard to see if she felt any form of sympathy at times– but he didn’t want that from his child, it was not a burden for her to carry, he thought.

“Something like that… I never knew my mother… she didn’t want me, I think. My father didn’t know he had me… then he tried to kill me when he meet me.” He took a deep breath, trying to make himself laugh as if it was a silly annotation in his life– Vought took care of me when I was a baby.”

“Was it a bad facility?” She didn't think it was right to ask, wondering why he was saying such heavy things with such lightness on his tone.

“I would burn the whole world before I let you or Ryan end up in a place like that.” His voice was stable but his expression betrayed him– it was lonely and awful. But I managed.”

“I’m sorry… we cannot help the nature of our birth or the nature of those who cared for us… we just have to deal with the leftovers they left us with– doesn’t need to hurt less, right?”

She paused, caught by that saddened expression forming on her father's face, at his gloves squeak under his grip. Helena fiddles with her backpack, jumping off the armchair towards him-- he looks up at the open palm holding candy, her lips trembly purse and her eyebrows fold downwards, finding her upset and nervous Homelander lifts himself on his elbow taking the werther's candy in hopes it would ease her.

“I’m sorry… sorry that happened to you.” She was struggling to talk– I knew kids who got taken by CPS… it didn’t always seem like a good thing.”

Homelander offered a sad smile that made for poor comfort.

“Is okay is all behind… I… I am just glad your mother never came back… because they would have done that to you.”

She looked confused, urging him to explain without words.

“Come ‘ere.” He fixed himself back upright, gluing himself to the wall to give her space, Helena dropped her backpack and hopped on the bed, finding it to be tight squeeze– your mother didn’t tell you just how special you and Ryan are. How much more special you two are even more than me… maybe.”

The girl gave him all the answers he needed in those big befuddled eyes.

“You and Ryan are the first natural born supes… Ryan’s mother came back when Ryan began to show powers while pregnant– so they locked her in a house like this. Ryan lived in a whole compound of fake houses and fake neighbors… a fantasy prison– and that was the “nice” place! Your mother was lucky, they would have taken you and put you in the same place they put me.” 

Speaking as if nothing was loaded, Helena scrunched the blanket under her hand, wanting to argue with him, yet if this was all true… she couldn’t blame him for being maladjusted.

He looked at the nightstand and the book next to the blue plastic lamp, taking in his hands.

“You like Dr. Seuss?”

Helena shook her head.

“Never read it. Mom got me too many books growing up, maybe we never got around them… and by the time I could walk to the Library I just skipped the kids section… as pretentious as that sounds.” She followed his hand as he trapped her in between his arm and his chest, but she wasn’t scared, this was normal for parents to do, even if he was still somewhat alien to her– I don’t think I was lucky.”

“You seen what they do in the labs… they would’ve done that to you, mayhaps.” He opened the book ‘If I ran the zoo’-- When I was small I had a stutter and they would…” he paused, biting his tongue slightly as it sat uncomfortably in his mouth– I would have to read a lot of silly rhyme books. Dr. Seuss was my favorite. I always wanted to met these stupid critters but turns out they weren’t real.”

There was a fondness in the way he held this book, his thumb rubbing on the spine, pressing the worn creases, tracing marks and straightening blunt tips– the copy was well loved, scratched beyond repair at the corners, and the spine so creased some white seep from the cracks as it threatened to rip apart.

“So I was born with my powers then… I can see why they would do such a thing to Ryan.”

“I think if Becca was around… she would have preferred it if she kept him to herself in the first place, maybe make her husband think the kid was his.” He looked down at the mop of black hair, expecting to see you but finding her instead, his eyes widen hoping the kid wouldn’t have a snappy comeback or grow uncomfortable but Helena just flicked to the next page reading the short verses, admiring the drawing of an elephant cat with a little smile– you don’t mind being born with powers?”

“It’s awesome to have powers. You want me to be all sappy and act like having them makes my life worse? Does it suck sometimes– yes.” She pauses, flattening an edge that had been used to bookmark too many times–  I’m different even amongst supes… but If I didn’t have powers then… I would be useless– I would make mom’s life harder. But I am great.”

Homelander felt the candy pressed tightly in his glove.

“I don’t think your mother would ever think that of you…”

“I dunno.” Her cheek rubbed on his suit, her voice so quiet as she went to the next page– sometimes… I don’t think she likes me very much… but sometimes she obviously does…”

“Helena…” His face hurt as he tried to speak but found himself unable to say another word, his jaw dislodging but his tongue sat dry in his mouth. 

“I was two when my powers happened. Mom… Mom managed to get out of the shelter and we moved to a long hallway with a bed and stuff on the walls– it was super cheap and it was better... I lived there until well… I broke a wall… then it was back to the shelter and then people’s houses and grandparents… When I was five we got that apartment and by then I realized I was allergic to dogs so I didn't need to be afraid of my nose anymore… no more broken stuff…”

“Those were accidents!” his voice almost broke, a seething rage tried to burst out of him as his eyes took a new shade of red, faceless bodies lingered on his thoughts wishing to justly harm them– all of that… that wasn’t you.”

“Tell that to my grandma after I broke their staircase.” She sulked in her spot– and the wall attached to it.”

Homelander could only cuddle her, wishing he could comfort her as easily it had been with Ryan. His son had desperately needed affirmations, needed to be provided with love and understanding– but this one saw everything far too maturely for him to help, he felt. 

“You can break stuff now… I’ll clean it up and I won’t get mad at you.”

“Thanks…?” That sounded grim coming out of his mouth but she wanted to hear it, as silly as it was, she nuzzled his side trying to crawl higher following his feathery fingers– By the way… why is this your favorite place? Like this is just a film set to make you look so cornbread american it hurts… I guess people knowing you’re an orphan didn’t sit well with test groups.”

“Is not. I fucking hate it… but sometimes I like to think what it would’ve been like if i grew up in a place like this. I don’t own much… I have a cabin but I don’t go there anymore… no home for me… just houses.” He flicked the page giggling at the silly drawing of weird animals– my favorite place in the whole world is right here.”

She expects him to point at anything, but he doesn’t for he’s just looking at her with sleepy eyes.

“I love you Helena. I really do.”

Her eyes blinked and blipped, as she hugged him back… with only one arm, it felt like the correct thing to do, Helena could see herself much younger, inside that small apartment while the neighbor is being loud, there she was sharing headphones with you, playing a movie on your old laptop, she hugged your torso with those short chubby arms that always felt so light to you, and her face resting on your chest, she remembered the weight of your chin and the lull of your breathing… her father was a slow breather making her sleepy.

“My favorite place in the world it’s Rolling’s Hills Asylum– I saw a ghost there once."

“Ghost aren’t real” He tried not to laugh at her beaming eyes.

“You shoot lasers out of your ass but ghosts are too far-fetched? Really?” she was genuinely offended– ridiculous.”

He had a hearty laugh regardless, he closed the book giving her head a peck, taking the moment to smell her hair, to enjoy the sound of her heartbeat and the blood coursing through her veins, hearing the current glad that it continued to run, seemingly never ending as it should be.

“Okay…Okay…” He lets her take the book off his hands, clearly miffed that he wouldn’t let her finish, he swallows– You know why I brought you here?”

“No.”

“I always wanted to know what it would be like to have a family in a home like this… having Ryan in the tower was the closest thing to that but now there’s you and your mother so I want to know if you’re okay with me moving in…? I started looking at houses but your mother is difficult… and there’s my penthouse which… I don’t know if it’s ideal.”

Helena had to fake ignorance, partially aware of what stresses you were putting yourself into. Sure neither of you had discussed this move somehow.

Your daughter straightens herself clutching the little book tight against herself, thinking of the dusty air in the room and the fake planes above her head covered in cobwebs.

“Move in with us…? I don’t think mom would like to live in the tower. I certainly wouldn’t… Is weird living where I work… great for saving on travel expenses, just… not a pleasant idea… just ‘cuz you helped me with Elmo– I’ll help you out with mom. It was sad without him around, somehow.”

Helena buried her face under the book, feeling as if she had betrayed you but she had to win him over… for you, she had to succeed, she had to do everything she could to not fuck this up.

Her heart thumped so loudly it was deafening, as she accepted her actions.

“Do you like Elmo?” Homelander turned pale, his nose tickled by a cocktail of emotional conditions.

“Huh?” She blinked thrice as her face twisted to face him– he is my friend… you’re supposed to like your friends.”

“Just as friends, right?” He tried to force an uncomfortable light laugh.

“Oh…” She blushed then frowned– I am seven!! Jesus you’re being gross, dad!!” She jumped out of the bed–  Elmo is my dog.” she said loudly.

Homelander wished he didn’t hear your voice just then, he buried his face in the pillow praying that the kid didn’t understand just how grim her words were, but mostly disgusted at himself… Why he had to say that? Was he jealous of a toddler!?.

“If you want to hit me please do so.”

“How hard?” She scowled, repulsed unknowingly by her father's misplaced jealousy, she wanted to hit him regardless.

“Your hardest.” He mumbled.

“I would break the wall.”

“Go for it.” he lifted a thumb up

A hundred or so meters later, and a tree branch jammed under his arm tearing his cape, he looked up spitting grass and dirt, the sky so obnoxiously blue.

He lifted himself slightly but not all the way with a slight groan, witnessing the hole on the side of the house and the torn down tree he had taken with himself, Helena jumped out the caveat floating towards him.

“Are you hurt?”

He lifted his fist still clutching on that wrapped piece of candy as she made her way towards him, struggling to unwrap it, glad when it was freed, the smell sweet and warm but tame compared to other crimes, shoving it in his mouth, allowing the caramel to melt in his tongue, he took a deep breath.

“Oh shit did I actually hurt you!?” With a pop Helena landed near him, jumping on her knees towards him, throwing her backpack to the side as her father just stared at the sky– you aren’t bleeding. Thank god…Good.”

“I’m fine, just surprised… By the way” he sat straight, his head lolling back and his mouth sucking loudly on his treat, he looks back at her once more smiling trying to appear completely fine not wanting his daughter to get more worried, fixated on the little red in her eyes– thank you for not hesitating.”

She sniffled a little.

“You’re so weird.”

“You can’t talk either, princess… I think I know how you can help me with your mom” She moved to remove a twig off his hair which somehow had stayed mostly in place– I want to organize a playdate for you. Get her to agree.”

She nodded, twirling the twig in her hand.

Homelander had one look at the broken house, and the torn down tree whose roots rained dirt– and scorched it. The cinder brought it down, Helena watched the bonfire and the billowing dust clouds, just flinching at the sudden burst of light, but as her sight caught on what was happening, she calmed down, drawn to the sight of flames, amused at how natural and flexible his lasers were, envious that she was lacking of them, angry that she was.

“Can we go get bagels?” She sniffed the smoke– I'm hungry…”

The two tried their best to eat while being gawked at– him more amazed about how much she could fit in her mouth– albeit with some reserved revultion. One hand held an egg bagel with cannoli cream cheese, while the other put a plain one with far too much smoked salmon and bacon cream cheese in his mind.

He watched her as she rotated the flavors, disturbed by her half chews in between to mix them in her cheeks.

She lifted her hand offering a bite of the salmon monstrosity.

“Is okay, I got my own…” She frowned, staring at the barely touched toasted bagel with nothing but a sliver of lox spread, Homelander looked away, not wanting to see her chewed up sandwich, considering leaving briefly then coming back to pick her up, but she insisted– "you want me to try?”

She nodded furiously trying to swallow fast enough.

He leaned down trying to ignore the camera recording behind him, taking a small morsel that seemed to satisfy the girl.

“yummy.”He was forced to look glad as he swallowed.

She looked at his with anticipation, unsure of what to do. he relented yet again.

“Cappers suck.” she regretted her bite instantly, swallowing forcefully.

“I’ll admit– not a fan of them, either.” 

He wouldn’t touch his food content to just watch her guzzle her meal and drown it with his coffee.

He looked at the clock on the store’s wall knowing it was almost time to pick up Ryan, the flight home was slower than he preferred but he hadn’t minded for Helena seemed to withstand this speed a lot better.

“Hey… not to worry or anything but… you did… you did sign me out of school, right?” her voice was filled with anxiety.

“What do you mean?”

As she looked at the high rises around her, she looked at her phone and the 54 missed calls from you.

“Did you tell mom, you were picking me up, right?” She cringed as the phone rang and her battery drained a little further– right!!?”

“No, why?”

“You might wanna park for a second, dude.”

Homelander begrudgingly agreed, putting the bubble down on top of the nearest silver roof.

“Who died?” Helena said.

“WHERE ARE YOU!!!???” your voice might’ve broken the speaker if it went up one more decibel– are you o-okay!? Helena, please tell me where are you!!? Please tell me you’re safe!!” Your voice was cracked and hoarse.

“I’m fine. wha…”

“Okay honey, baby, am going to… oh my god… I got this call from the school and there’s these cops and Ashley trying to find you, baby! Where are you!?”

“Cops…?” Homelander asked, trying to look for strange sounds in the distance.

“Please honey.”

She looked at her father while you frantically spoke to some unseen stranger, covering the mouthpiece.

“You fucking clown. You’re so going to owe me… like… you have no idea what you gonna make me do, you owe me.”

“Why are the cops involved?” he ignored her overtly aggressive tone for the moment.

“You kidnapped me!!! The Homelander’s daughter just got kidnapped of course they would call the cops!! They would call the cops for any kid who just vanishes from school you idiot!! That’s why you tell people!!”

“I need permission to pick up my own kid from school!!?”

“Yes!!” She took the phone to her ear– mom… I just ditched school. I was bored… am in” Helena looked around– Harlem.” Her voice monotone as she shot daggers at her father– I… I am sorry.”

“Helena… okay… okay am… am gonna see if I can get your father… he’s been on some mission but I… I dunno… am just so glad you’re okay, baby. I swear you’re not in trouble.” You cry and mumble towards an unseen and unheard strangers– okay baby they’re gonna track your phone and send somebody to pick you up…”

“Is not necessary. I’ll just float there…” 

“Helena what’s wrong?” Your heart breaks as her voice is so cold, more performative than her usual tone.

“I’m embarrassed… I… I didn’t think… sorry. I’ll get there…” her voice is jittery, her nerves infect you as if something unseen its making her feel like this, hitting you how powerless you were as the line died mid vowel.

She hung, staring at the screen.

“Write your alibi.”

“Why… why did you do that?”

“Because you’ll get in trouble.” She said sternly– next time just text mom before you do anything… how would you feel if mom took Ryan and didn’t tell you? or the school?”

As she walked towards the ledge, she turned to face her father, whose ears had just begun to pick up on the extra bustling happening nearby, like incoming mosquitos in the room.

“I forgot to tell you… but there’s this man called William… William Butcher and he wants me dead. Your mother thought he might do something against you” He bit his lips– that’s probably why she’s so upset and why that helicopter it’s heading towards Harlem.”

He pointed to the east but her sight didn’t pick up anything abnormal.

“I want to go to Disneyland.” She put her phone back in her backpack– and we are gonna do the queues, and you’re gonna eat those disgusting turkey legs on that sweltering california heat and you'll not complain– now this is what its gonna happen you’re gonna pick me up, I’ll pretend to have some sort of depressive episode that caused me to just fuck off scaring everybody and I called you to pick me up just now… your phone was on mute and you just notice, good?”

“Is it really that bad?” He found everything an absolutely ridiculous overreaction– am your dad, you were safe.”

“Today never happened. Or we both are screwed. Trust me it's that bad.”

Arriving at the school in her father’s arms, two police officers awaited for her arrival alongside yourself, a man with a Vought badge was bickering on the phone a few meters away aswell.

“Look who I found.” Homelander was quick to sell it at the sight of palpable distress, you ran towards Helena ripping her off his hands.

Even Ryan had been brought seemingly questioned about where his sister might’ve been.

The collar of his suit never felt so tight before, as it did just then.

Arriving at the home, she was sentence to a month of house arrest– no Vought labs or any unsupervised activities, lucky to just get the one week suspension for skipping school and not worse, Homelander thankfully had smooth things out with the police who almost shouted an amber alert after seeing Vought lose their minds… which necessitated a meeting afterwards, Homelander couldn’t fault Ashley for her panic attack after hearing the news and finding him awol, he was instead glad to see her lenghts of her dedication to him.

“I think we should also go to all the theme parks.” She grumbled putting her kindle down.

The clock reading past midnight.

“Everything is an opportunity to learn, no?” Homelander enter through the glass door, making sure to keep an eye on you as you sleep poorly– hope this makes you feel better.”

He took a yellow envelope from behind his back, it was thin and had a small pink bow, Helena ripped it off his hands, staring back at him as she ripped the glued seal off, the thin paper made her frown dissipate as her eyes digested the present.

“You’re gifting me Vought Stock?” She stares at the document as her mouth drops slightly.

"I have money to spare… perks of being the top dog for over twenty years– I get money from merch and films too, y’know.”

“These are over seventeen-hundred a pop.” She looked back at her father, and suddenly the man appeared  alien to her, he was a different breed indeed– are you sure? Is a lot of money”

“I barely do anything with it. I… I think by the time you’re 18 you could use the money you made from those to get yourself your own big girl seat with the shareholders.” He looks around her room, at the bare walls feeling uneasy, his eyes fixate on the picture of a stranger’s cat wearing a witch’s hat taken in what he could only guess was a dining room– still haven’t sorted the will situation, but don’t worry about money at all. Once I marry your mother it would all have been be dealt with.”

Homelander sat on her desk, leaning his behind on the wooden surface.

“We’re still going to disneyland” Homelander curses internally trying to not look like he was dying– could’ve just gotten me a squishmellow tho.” 

“Do I have to eat the turkey leg…?”

“Yes.”

“Please don’t do this to me” he half-jokingly begs.

“I feel nothing.”

Pouting like a kid, he looks to the ground feeling defeated, looking around, catching your snoozes in the backdrop, you had been so stressed you virtually passed out the moment your head touched the pillow, ypu had been arguing with him about never ever putting his phone on mute again, making him do the rounds of apology about Helena’s behaviour with both Vought, the local police and the school alongside you.

Homelander had grown guilty after seeing just how concerned Ryan had become over the ordeal while watching you comfort him, while your daughter got the talk from the uniformed men and the dean.

Yet you had gone out of your way to call him before bed.

“Your mom said I could visit while you’re grounded… she said you invited me for dinner…”

“Oh it's ‘cuz I told her that she should build a room for Ryan in the empty office so you guys can stay over. You’re engaged. It's weird to live separately but… baby-steps so the kid doesn’t get stressed too much, I mean your last girlfriend was a lunatic.”

“Starlight did turn out to be a loonie.”

“I meant Stormfront…”

“I didn’t know who she was…I was just a man who–

“There’s no cameras here my brother is christ– just one look at her records in Portland, and you would’ve noticed a pattern.”

“I just thought she would get over it after she realized I don’t care… like… am better than humans, we are better than humans… Don’t know why she grouped herself with them.” He scoffed.

“How supportive of you– pretending to care about her interest for pussy… what a chad move.” she scoffed putting the present on her nightstand– Mom did warn me about boys like you.”

“How do you know what tha– and what??”

“I’m in the tenth grade. Surrounded by 16 year olds. I’ve been mentally compromised– either way mom and I are gonna go to buy furniture for his bedroom tomorrow. Thank me later.”

She moved to her bed, pushing her few plush toys to the ground.

“By the way… what’s that playdate you had in mind?” her finger hovered on top of the lamp’s switch.

“They want Phantasma and Poltergeist as the new heads of Teenage Kix for when you’re older and ready. I think that’s too small… the name its too loaded, too many fuck ups after that second gen, b.s.” He stares at her and sees a brilliant future, hearing the chanting of adoring fans screaming for his children’s attention– they want to use that platform to launch our real international program… countries have been in bidding wars for the last couple months to have the first overseas hero program… So far only Japan, France, Brazil and Singapore have successfully been approved for the program. We have a couple open slots… lots of offers from India and the UK.  I want you to head that program– Ryan is great… he’ll lead this nation as their top hero but you– it would be too small for a brain like yours… I was thinking “The Watch” for a name. Catchy, no? Thought you might want to meet your future team-mates... they are a little older than you but...``

“I think I can get mom behind. Either way I should go to bed."

She said nervously.

Homelander smiled moving towards her to tuck her for the night, giving her a good night kiss as he turned the light’s off.

“Wait!”

He turned in a panic, his hand already on the door handle.

“...” She dug on her nightstand cabinet pulling out that Dr. Seuss book– we… we didn’t finish it… would you read it for me?”

Homelander had never seen the dark be so vibrant before, he sat on her bed taking the thin booklet in his hand before clearing his throat.

“I won’t do any funny voice so don’t worry.”

“Is okay if you want to…”

A smile melted into his face.

She watched his shape disappear, that night she dreamt of endless camera flashes.

As the weeks built up, Helena found herself spending more and more time with the other half of her family.

She had helped build the guest room, picking toys and wallpaper and her brother was appreciative.

Watching from a distance while next to him, no matter how much she looked at him she had little desire to interact with him on her own accord, the more she watched you try to sweeten him up, making him ziti and taking him out… the more bitter aftertaste his name left on her tongue.

Ryan was an easy child, painfully normal, nothing special if he hadn’t come pre-packed with superpowers… powers just like their father… he could fly, had laser vision, super strength and durability, and super senses… eyes just as blue, so much like their father. 

So boring… just a copy, no? she kept thinking.

Where was his spark? Where was the zest?

What made him actually special and great?

All he did was be cute, play with his toys and bore her to death. Talking to him was just a chore, nothing different from speaking to the average civilian., these thoughts plagued her mind.

As they sat together at the dining table, she looked at you then at her father and wondered just how much of a nuisance this kid would be for her future… she thought of her father’s vision…“The Watch” trying to decipher what could he possibly have set up for Ryan. The Seven? Really that’s all? Just a face in a lunchbox and nothing else… how quaint, she thought.

With every bite and sauce stain on her napkin, her anxiety took all the flavor from her meal… he was a threat… she thought of the unsorted will situation, no doubt still failing to include her– stocks could open doors to financial stability in the case her father died or lost his position, or you fucked it up with him… but it wasn’t a fraction of what he would leave Ryan, of the safety net underneath him.

But above all as she thought of the large behemoth on New York city skylines waiting for her... he could not stand in her way to take the kingdom.

Kingslayer. 

She could live with that… all the greats had done it… a sibling, a son, an uncle and father decapitated here and there, it be easier if she could shave his head and send it to a monastery to live as an eunuch… to kill the competition earlier on was easy that a drawn out battle killing thousands– butcher him as cleanly as she could.

Why would he miss him, anyhoo? Who would miss him? He had nothing… no mom and a finicky father, just a name that could slip thru the cracks, Helena thought.

She giggled at his joke, sat by his side as they watched a movie after dinner, shared her popcorn and said nothing when you offered your lap to let him rest, said nothing as you brushed his hair with your fingers.

Butcher… the moment ceases to play in her mind, her eyes seeing floating words cover the whole living room– a simple slip up from Homelander… William Butcher… Ryan had been Ryan Butcher once according to his file at work… who was Becca Saunders? She had only ogled the file for the briefest second… he had said it back at the house… passed him as her husband’s kid… who was this William that was so dangerous his name was comically apt. and how much did his wife dissapearance had affected him.

She would keep it in her back pocket.

So here she was on her way to a class field trip to the Smithsonian, her father and two other chaperoned the class, gawking at his recently retouched roots from her seat, more than looking out the passenger window, a girl sat on her side texting to her friends, there was a buzz in the bus as the teenagers came to realize Homelander of all people had come to chaperone their excursion, one of the moms had wasted no time trying to befriend the Supe, her social skills enviable as she chatted him up with ease… already trading baby photos, and asking him about his skincare routine complaining about how dry her skin got around this time of year, and other banalities.

The trip was everything she had expected– except for Homelander becoming an impromptu tour guide, going on a rather in-depth discussion on great American mammals, and the tragedy of the American buffalo with the tour guide.

Helena had gotten excited at the marine exhibitions which thankfully some kids found her explanation interesting, Homelander was proud to see her and two kids discuss whales. On the other end of the spectrum there was her father doing his best to contain his excitement at the sight of Theodore Roosevelt… The man had an encyclopedic knowledge of American presidents and their achievements. One would think he was staring at some invisible monitor feeding him information– regardless there was something sweet as he sat Helena next to the bronze statue of Theodore for a picture, turning the camera quickly on himself, that the other parents noticed, the chatty mom finding it beyond adorable, reminding her of her own little boy.

As the classrooms took a second to relax and have lunch, she saw no alternative but to sit next to him.

“Do you have an earpiece or something?” 

“What? I can’t know stuff?” He scoffed sipping briefly on his coffee.

“Just thought your interior designer just put those president portraits in your house for the bit… like that poster in your bedroom.”

“I like history.” he mumbled, looking a tad shy to admit it, as if it was some dirty secret– am I embarrassing you?”

“No…? I’ve never seen you this excited before.” He blushed, glad that it wasn’t anything bad.

That smile would fade away as they headed to one of the final exhibitions… “American Super” a new exhibition focused on… you guessed it… Superheroes. 

This was a collection of Vought’s finest, hero suits adorning the way in their glass cases, as pretty text explained the inspirations and significance of the suit’s symbolism and how it represented the ideas and personalities of their heroes, on the evolution on textile engineering and how superhero suits helped pave ways of innovation, it was decades of Vought culminating on ‘The Seven’ and some of Goldolkin’s promising students– there was something grim at the sight of his own suit inside a box.

“Where the fuck did they get the red cape from?” He mumbles, the tour guide turned to him to explain, which did not make him feel any less queasy.

“Wow… he isn’t just a massive nerd but also had to be here to show off? pathetic.”

Helena stared at the girl who had whispered towards her friends, them chortling together.

As the tour continued, the man considered briefly murdering the girl, thinking of how easy he could make it look like an accident, he knew her name and address after all– disposing of her should be easy.

His mood soured and his build-up of excitement had completely vanished, picking on every snide and mock comment from the group, spouting the same bullshit of your everyday Starlight supporter– it had been at the mention of his complicitess on those Maeve’s conspiracies where he had grown visibly irked, and unable to hide it.

“You can’t touch them.” Helena tugged on his sleeve pointing at his face– Your eyes…”

“Is okay they’re just stupid children who stare at their phones for too long.” He looked at the bust of Translucent thinking of how they got his hairline wrong– "I wouldn't have come if I knew this was on…”

“Really you didn’t want to see another 1:1 recreation of your childhood bedroom.”

“I want to go home.” He cried as they followed the tour guide, they stopped to ask about the room with excitement which he easily matched after years of selling himself so cheaply– it’s like they picked it up and just dropped it here.”

Both noted how even the carved rabbit bookend was present on this bookshelf.

As they headed for departure, Helena hurried up the stairs catching the girls behind her, she gave her father a cheeky look, pursing her lips behind her finger, flinging her arm absetmindledly as he raised a solitary eyebrow… All there was was the sound of bodies crashing and crying.

A shattered bone, and whining.

He smiled just for her.

And she smiled just for him, before running towards him pretending to have been frightened by the sound, as a crowd built itself and a teacher rushed towards the commotion.

“I think she dances or something… not with that knee anymore.” She whispered into his chest.

“Thank you.” he whispered in her ear, holding her tightly before leaving for superhero duty.

It had to add a line on the tally, no?

Taglist-- @immyowndefender @demodemo909 @fromforeigntofamiliarity @ghqstfqce

apologies for lenghts but hope y'all like it

[brothermoth]

the left wing of the ostrich

You know what? This is the fault of young people being so fucking stupid and unable to educate themselves with the vast fucking resources they have available. I don't give a shit how good or bad your formal schooling was. The internet is free and you can learn these skills entirely on your own by simply not being a goddamn reactionary fool.

You're not a fucking anarcho-communist or a Marxist leninist feminist or whatever the fuck y'all are spouting now. You're an uneducated shitheel who thinks calling yourself the most left sounding thing is going to make you better. You've never read Marx or Engles and I doubt half of you even understand the theory you claim to follow.

I'm not blaming this on anyone with a learning disability who has difficulty accessing educational materials by the way. This is about people who make a willful choice to be radicalized online. This is about people who do not have the common sense to pull their head out of their ass.

Gen z (I fucking hate generation labels but it is largely people 18-30 that this problem comes from) is one of the least educated groups of people with some of the lowest reading levels since public education became widely available.

These are people without an ounce of fucking kindness or goodwill in their heart who feel so much apathy toward any one group of people that they are not even willing to do anything but stare like a fucking fool and let shit happen.

Radfems get off your high fucking horses—you had a hand in this. If your feminism isn't based on basic human fucking empathy then you're nothing but a shill doing absolutely fuck all for women or anyone else for that matter. You're a bastardization of feminism and you should be fucking ashamed.

Anti voting cunts? Genuinely I want you to sit and spin. Your fake empathy is pathetic. You don't get to put myself and everyone I care about in front of the bus so you can get on your moral pedestal about being against genocide. Your hands are stained with fucking blood. You're an idiot and your stupidity and your silence is murderous. You had a chance to get off your ass and DO something that fucking mattered for the people in your own community and you basically told us we are not worth it. The man who wanted to shoot protestors will absolutely be beneficial for Gaza. Right.

You're such lukewarm activists that you believed misinformation about Kamala Harris that was so easy to just fucking verify. (No she did not imprison people for weed. She was in fact supportive of lessened sentences and education for prisoners so they can find jobs when they're free. She has done a LOT for people and she was put in a very difficult position where she could not risk losing the large pool of moderate voters.)

Hey "activists"! Do you know how your own fucking government works?

THE VICE PRESIDENT CANT DO SHIT. KAMALA HARRIS HAS LITTLE TO NO SAY ON WHETHER OR NOT WEAPONS GO TO ISRAEL.

Hell, BIDEN doesn't have much sway over that decision. Congress is red and they make the majority of foreign policy decisions you fucking stupid cunts.

Trans Americans will never forgive you. Black Americans will never forgive you. Poor Americans, disabled Americans, Latino Americans, Native Americans, Asian Americans and all the others.

I hope you regret the choices you made. Christ, I hope it fucking haunts you. Trump voters were always going to vote trump without hesitation but you? You had to play leftist and call every marginalized person who pleaded with you a liberal. You're pathetic. If I could spit on you via internet, I would.

Put your fucking head back in the sand. You can stop pretending to care now.