#you can’t go ‘we only need 3 seasons because we know where the show is going it’s all highly intentional and succint'

[felixcatton]

oh just spoiled ted lasso for myself and i fear i’m never gonna catch up on it now

[deathbxnny]

Helloo!! Arcane is ending soon, so I was wondering if I could request the Arcane cast reacting to a reader who suspiciously seems to know everything that’s gonna happen in the plot? They always appear where the action is, and they warn about dangers before they happen, trying to ”subtly” change the outcomes of horrible events. Tragedies are a core element of the story, so I feel that the narrative would create another disaster if one event got prevented, but the thought of these characters being safe and happy after all they’ve been through would be so healing :3 It’s up to you which way you want to take it 🐁💖 I’m fine with both platonic and romantic, but I’d love to see Vi, Jinx and Caitlyn if that’s ok :)

I love love love your writing, reading your HC’s before bed has become an important part of my day and it’s always a joy to see your work pop up in the tags <3 Thank you for letting us read your creations 💖 I can’t wait to read the second part of your Caitlyn fic!!

The Timekeeper. | Vi, Caitlyn, Jinx x Gn!Reader

I absolutely LOVE this idea, Anon, and I appreciate your request so much!! Also, thank you for your kind words. It really means the world to me reading something so sweet!<33

Content: Angst, can be read as either platonic or romantic tbh, time traveling, fluff, bitter sweet, cursing, spoilers for season 2?, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

You were always a mysterious figure to them. One that appeared at the right time in the right place whenever they needed you the most.

You never revealed a thing about yourself. You never even told them your name. But one thing they did know was that you had always looked out for them, like a guardian angel in a way.

And on one fateful day, after another evaded tragedy, they finally caught up to you just before you could leave again.

》VI

"Who the hell are you?" She asked completely out of breath after having practically chased you down through the dense crowd of the undercity. She had seen you so many times before. So, so many times. And every time she did, you were somehow able to save her from certain death by subtly showing her the right way to survive.

It took her a while to piece together that you must've known the outcome of every situation she had ever been in beforehand. That was the only logical answer to the many questions around your existence she could come up with, but it wasn't enough to satiate her desperate curiosity. There were times she had chosen against your signs, and the consequences ended up being almost grave. So whoever you were, you must've had otherworldly knowledge about everything and everyone.

Because whilst she didn't know a thing about you, you certainly knew everything about her.

Raising your hooded head, you idly played with the pocket watch in your hand, piercing eyes meeting her own. "Does that matter?" You ask, and truthfully, it shouldn't. Who cared about your identity when she knew she could trust you? But that wasn't enough. "Yeah, it does to me. Now tell me who you are already. I... I've been seeing you everywhere for years now. You have always been there and I..." She trailed off, suddenly losing her confidence.

She had thought of this moment for years now, imagined exactly what she would say to you. And yet, ultimately, she found herself speechless in your presence that seemed to drown out everyone else around you two. "I see... but my apologies, we were not supposed to meet yet." You said calmly, seemingly undisturbed by her appearance. "Time and fate... they both are so tightly intertwined and yet also so far apart from each other... how odd that the timeline changed so suddenly again, no?" Your words made zero sense in her mind, but that just added to your mystery.

"What-" "-Are you happy with the way your life is going?" You ask, and that made the woman pause in thought. The answer was positive, of course, but only because you had a strong hand in it once she accepted your help. She thought of Powder back home, who was probably happily tinkering away with the young girl Isha they recently took in, and that made her finally nod. "Yes. All thanks to you." "Not at all. It was you who chose your fate. I only showed you the alternative paths."

You two stood there in silence for a moment before she shoved her hands into her pockets and looked over to a nearby bar she liked to frequent in-between missions. "Let's go grab a drink and talk. It's on me." Deciding to accept this new path the timelines had given you, you accept her invitation with a smile.

》JINX

"You're terrible at your job." "Am I? I like to pride myself in my good work ethic, actually." Jinx was idly swinging her gun back and forth on her index finger whilst she rested up in the ceiling above you, clearly having followed you around secretly. But she knew that you already knew that from the start.

Scoffing at your words, she jumped down and landed in front of your indifferent figure as she pointed the gun right at you. "Pah! You're a funny one... so what are you? A time traveler?" "Ah, I like the title Timekeeper more." You were aggravating but at the same time a familiar face she had grown to appreciate deeply. You were the reason she was doing well in life now, even if she ignored you for a very, very long time. She thought she knew better despite all the odds pointing against her, especially you. Ultimately, she learned her lesson when she finally just listened to you.

"Ugh... whatever. Can't ya at least tell me your name?" "No." "Man, you're such a pain in the butt!" "Likewise." Rolling her eyes, she lowered her gun and lazily leaned against a wall, arms crossed tightly as she observed the crowds passing by from outside the abandoned building you were in. An admittedly comfortable silence fell between you two, one that relaxed her shoulders and made her sigh in defeat after a while. Your presence was always so comforting.

"So, you let me catch up to you this time. Finally tired of the cat and mouse game we've been playing?" You lowered your head at her question, a sly smile on your face that made her narrow her eyes in interest. "Perhaps. Or maybe I just wanted to ask you how you're doing?" What an odd question, considering the context of your meet-up. And yet, it was somehow fitting coming from you specifically. Wasn't your whole mysterious mission revolving around her well-being anyway?

"Shouldn't you know the answer to that, oh so esteemed 'Timekeeper'?" You found no offense in the mockery of your title. Just pure amusement. "I'm afraid that mind reading was not in the initial job listing." Jinx took a moment to think about your question carefully then, deciding to indulge you despite her better judgment. Things were good now, after all. She, Isha, and Vi were together again as a family, including Vander, even if they had yet to find a way to turn him back properly. But everything was happy otherwise... because you made sure that the end to her story wouldn't be a painfully tragic one.

"... I'm fine. Everything's fine." She muttered, and your smile widened at that answer. "So... I'm not terrible at my job, after all?" Pressing a playful hand to her chin, Jinx acted as though she was in deep thought. "Hmmm... I guess I'll need more convincing than all of this to decide." "Of course... then how about we start with running away before the Enforcers show up to raid this place in approximately... 2 minutes?"

Jinx rolled her eyes again with a grin but agreed to follow you, very much glad to have learned her lesson at your side throughout the years.

》CAITLYN

She was ignorant towards your judgment from the start, especially as she was able to analyze very quickly that you weren't all you claimed you were. You were too smart, too fast, too aware of everything. It was clear that you already knew how her life story especially would come to an end. But that didn't mean that she'd always listen to you.

Caitlyn believed to know better, even going as far as to protest against your word, which she had learned to be fate itself. And sometimes she'd nearly get away with her life, and on others, you'd be the one to show up just in time to save her. It was embarrassing and at times even near humiliating, but you never judged her, just silently left every time she attempted to confront you.

And this time she had finally succeeded.

Now dressed in a formal uniform, she watched your still form stare out of a window in her estate, as though you weren't practically trespassing. But Caitlyn was used to that. "It's going to rain soon. I wonder if the construction workers will get done with the restoration on time today before the first drops fall." The navy haired woman came to stand next to you, ears finely tuned to your calming voice she had heard in her dreams and mind for so many years. It felt surreal to stand next to you at last.

"You already know the answer... but I think Mother will send out guards soon to retrieve them." Her mother, who had only narrowly escaped her death, if it wasn't for you. She had only gotten a little injured from falling debris, but that was all that happened. All of the councilors and people in the building had survived the Jinx attack. No grave injuries. All because you prevented it by throwing Jinx slightly off balance enough to make her shot not as precise.

"... Thank you." "For what?" The right answer would be absolutely everything, but she refrained, noting that you didn't seem keen on praise. You saw it as your job. As your duty to her for a reason unknown. "For saving my mother." That should do.

You nodded at her words in acknowledgment as your eyes spied Ambessa retreating with her troops in defeat. They were practicing chased away by the council since their help was unwelcome. Served them right for meddling with the business of other nations. You had exposed their ulterior motives in secret, and that's all it took for the tide to turn against them. "Just my duty." "I knew you'd say that... but I want to reward you for all you've done. If it wasn't for you... then I... I don't want to know what I would have become."

You glanced at her with an unreadable look in your eye, and that reconfirmed her suspicions regarding how deep she would have fallen otherwise. It's best not to think of it.

Humming to yourself in thought, you gave her a small smile. "Very well, if you insist... you can treat me to some fine tea and cookies." Caitlyn weakly mirrored your grin, relief filling her senses at you accepting her offer. She was worried you wouldn't. "Of course. Follow me." Linking your arms together carefully, you made your way through the dim halls.

A chuckle left your lips when it indeed began to rain.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 14: You're All I'm Dreaming Of

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

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

Word Count: 5.8K

Warnings: References to sex, Mentions of sex (not really explicit), Self-detrimental thoughts, Cursing, Drinking/Snorting Drugs, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC, Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

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

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Previously:

"Y/f/n Y/l/n?" The dark haired man asks, an accent tilting the ends of his words.

"Who's asking?"

He pulls out a badge, holding it up to the peep hole. "I'm Agent Butcher, this is Agent Campbell. We’re from the CIA, here to ask you a couple of questions about Soldier Boy."

You open the door to look at them. "The rapper?"

"What?" Agent Butcher looks confused.

"The rapper? Soulja Boy-" You arch a brow feigning confusion. "Because honestly I don't understand why the CIA would be asking me about that."

“No.” Agent Butcher holds up a photo.

You keep your face impassive. It’s a photo of Ben and you at a movie premiere the week before he left to go to Nicaragua.

“You’re here to talk to me about my mom?” You flit your eyes back to the two men standing in the doorway, easily slipping into the lie that you and Legend invented.

“Your mom?” Agent Campbell looks confused.

“Yeah. Indigo. Who did you think I meant?" You ask.

Present Day

*Soldier Boy POV*

The longer Ben sat in the motel room the more he thought of you. It wasn’t unusual. Ben was always thinking of you, even before he fucked everything up and before you two became supes, Ben rarely thought about anyone else. He hated that he did that, hated that you were always on his mind because he believed that he shouldn’t care about you as much as he did. Because why would you want someone like him? He was a fuck up before and after the serum and you deserved better. You always had deserved better.

When his cage had finally opened your name had been on his lips. He was ready to see you again, tell you how sorry he was, and how much he loved you. He hoped that it was you finally coming to take him away, but it wasn’t.

Y/n said she never wanted to see you again. Of course it wasn’t her.

He sighs and takes a bite of cheeseburger. His first one in 40 years, that the British fuck had gotten him, but it tastes like sandpaper, because he can't focus on anything but you.

"Well we know a few of your old team members are already dead." Butcher breezes pacing in the dingy motel room. "Countess, Gunpowder, Indigo-"

Ben reaches for his knife to grind up the oxy on the table in front of him, hoping that the pills will bring more relief than the whiskey.

It had been three days since he got out of Russia. Two since he visited Legend, when Legend told him that you were dead and Ben threw Legend's red armchair through the window of his apartment.

When Legend said it, Ben couldn't breathe, couldn't grasp that you were really gone. He didn't want to believe it.

You were all he thought the past 40 years, you were the only reason why he wanted to get the fuck out of Russia. He hated himself for what he had done, felt that he deserved the torture, but it was nothing compared to how he had tortured himself over the years.

The last thing he said to you often replayed in his mind and the way you looked when he said it burned against his eyes at night. He hadn't meant to hurt you, he didn't want to hurt you, never did. You were his oldest friend, the only person he knew that could be honest with him, call him out on all his shit, the only person who knew the real him, and the only person he could trust to be the voice of reason when he lost his temper.

And he threw you away like you meant nothing to him, when you were the only person who meant everything, the one person that he actually gave a fuck about.

Ben thought about your last night together often, remembered the dinner in the little restaurant when you wore a dress the color of his suit and looked more beautiful than he'd ever seen you as you danced to the song that always made him think of you. Remembered how he felt when he finally took you to bed, how each time you cried out his name it made him feel proud that it was him making you feel that way, that you wanted him as much as he had wanted you for so long.

Of course, then the memory of the next morning broke in his mind. When he woke up before you and held you closer than he'd held anyone else, slowly stroking your back and watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you slept and allowing himself to feel at peace. He couldn’t stop smiling in that moment because you genuinely wanted him to hold you close to him. When he woke up with you in his arms when you were children he feared that you wouldn’t want him to hold you, so he always pulled away, afraid of the rejection. He felt rejection from his father, but Ben knew that if you ever rejected him he wouldn't recover.

And then I rejected her, like a dumb fuck.

Ben was not a cuddler, he didn't think it was manly, but being there with you the morning after was different, and he believed he could have laid there for eternity listening to the soft beat of your heart where you rested against his chest and watch the gentle rise and fall of your body as you breathed. He had trailed his fingers along your spine as you laid on his chest, happy for the first time in his life.

When you told him that you loved him, he had been stunned. He remembered the soft blush of your cheeks and wide smile as you said it. He had wanted to say it back, to hear you say it once more, and to make love to you again while he said it- because he knew that’s what you had done together. He had fucked a lot of women, but that night with you was different, he cared how you felt, wanted it to be good for you, wanted to be everything you needed.

But the thought of you loving him scared him.

As much as it made him a pussy, Ben understood that it scared him.

You shouldn't love him because he didn't think that he could be what you wanted, that after all these years he couldn't be enough for you, and he believed that he shouldn't care for anyone as much as he did for you, because that meant weakness. That meant that every time you were on a mission together he would have to worry about you more than anything else. And Soldier Boy couldn't be weak.

So he pushed you away and ran to Countess. Ben's jaw tightens.

The psychotic bitch that sold me out. 

It had surprised him, how recently she had died. Butcher hadn't taken responsibility for it as he had for Gunpowder, which made Ben curious as to who had done it.

"Are you sure that Indigo is dead?" Ben asks taking another bite of the hamburger, but it still tastes like nothing.

He wondered if that was because you were gone and then wondered if he'd ever be able to taste anything ever again.

"What?" Hughie looks up from his bag of food. "Why would you think that?"

"Countess. Y/n hated her." Ben takes a swig from the bottle of whiskey on the table to try and dissipate some of the sadness he felt when he thought of you being gone. "Who told you that y/n was dead?"

"Her daughter." Hughie answers.

Ben freezes, his muscles tightening as a sickening feeling rises in the pit of his stomach. "She-she had a kid?" The thought made jealousy burn in his chest. Someone else had loved you, someone else had been man enough to say the thing that kept him up at night.

Of course she had a kid. She said she wanted a family. I was just too fucking stupid and couldn't admit that I wanted to give her that, to give her anything she wanted because I fucking love her. Did I really think she was going to wait for me? After everything I did to her? After everything I said? 

"Yeah-" Butcher shrugs. "Spitting image of her."

"She looks like her?" The thought of seeing you smile again makes something stir in his chest.

But it wouldn't be y/n. Ben reasons to himself. Because she’s gone.

His hand tightens on the bottle of whiskey and he’s surprised it doesn’t shatter in his hand as a wave of sadness comes over him. The memory of you and him at Fairmount Park, when you painted him briefly flashes across his mind and he allows himself to bask in your smile for a few fleeting moments before it’s gone. It makes him feel like he’d taken a knife to the chest at the thought that he’d never see it again and never hear you laugh.

"Yeah. Calls herself the same thing." Butcher continues.

"I want to meet her." Ben states taking one last drag of whiskey from the bottle.

"What?" Hughie chokes on his food.

Ben stands up. "I want to meet her. Where is she?"

"Oi, I don't think that's a good idea. She didn't really seem too keen on seeing you-"

"What do you mean?" Ben spits back, eyes narrowing.

Hughie shifts in his seat uncomfortably and Ben can hear Hughie's heartbeat quicken in fear.

"Don't be a pussy and just tell me." Ben snaps, becoming angry.

"She didn't want to talk too much about her mom. But she did mention how upset her mom was with you." Hughie states.

Ben felt the memories of the past creep up on him again.

Of course she was upset.

He remembered how broken you had looked the night you caught him and Countess. The look on your face forever sealed in his memory. He’d never seen you look so small. Honestly he was surprised that you hadn’t killed Countess that night. If he had walked in on anybody fucking you after the night you shared together, he knew that he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from killing them.

Because you were his.

He thinks about Howard briefly. Ben had almost killed him before you were supes when he called you his at the dance. It was also difficult to walk away when Howard hurt you.

Ben’s thoughts drift back to Countess. Her body had been burned beyond recognition, but her head was no longer attached. It would have taken an extreme amount of force for someone to do that.

Could she still be alive?

Ben thought about your ability. He was the only one who knew what it really was, that you didn't just come back from the dead, that your body was able to take the power of any supe that killed you. It made you incredibly indestructible, more invulnerable than him, even though he didn't want to admit that. He liked the thought that he was stronger than you because it meant that you needed him to protect you. He liked the thought that you needed him.

The day you both figured it out momentarily dances across his mind, making him tighten his jaw.

He remembered the sound of the gun and how you immediately pushed him out of the way to take the bullet for him, because you didn't know he was bulletproof and your gut reaction was to protect him.

Ben remembered how he held you when you took your last breath, watched the fear and pain in your eyes, mirrored in his own body at the thought of losing you, of trying to exist in a world where you weren't there. It was how he felt now.

Purposeless.

He remembered the broken feeling that rose in his chest when he heard your heart beat for the last time and how he begged internally for you to come back to him, because he didn't want to live if it meant losing you. He remembered gently brushing your hair back from your face as relief swelled in his chest when you came back and he clung to you like you had been gone a millennia. Of course after he had yelled at you for being so stupid, for putting yourself in that situation, tried to act like he didn't care as much as he did, but you'd only yelled back and refused to listen to him.

She was just so damn stubborn all the time.

"I don't care. I want to talk to her." Ben grabs the black leather coat that Butcher brought him and changes into a dark t-shirt and a pair of jeans. "Take me to her."

Butcher rolls his eyes. "Well, she did call the other day and say that she had some information for me." Butcher shrugs. "Let's go."

"But-" Hughie interjects.

"Oi Hughie. Calm down."

"She lost her mother. I don't think she wants any reminders of that."

"I promise I'll be gentle, cupcake." Ben rolls his eyes and pushes past Hughie to the door, the thought of seeing you again or just someone who shared your face enough to make him feel something for the first time in forty years.

"Oi, Y/n you in there." Butcher presses the call button on the outside wall of the brick apartment building.

Ben looks up and down the street, noting the people who are walking down the cracked sidewalks. It was weird to be back in New York, to be in a city that he lived in for so long and feel out of place. Hughie had tried to explain some things to him about the new century, but Ben was still confused, and honestly he didn’t care. The only thing he could focus on was you and the possibility of you living here.

Not you. He corrected. But maybe. He still didn't quite believe that you were dead, that you could die.

A minute passes and Ben is tired of waiting. He confidently walks up to the glass front door, and pulls with  enough of his superstrength to break the lock and open it.

"What are you doing?" Hughie whispers following behind him, but Ben ignores the question strutting straight to the stairwell.

"What floor?"

"8th." Butcher says.

When they finally reach your door Ben pauses. He's not sure if he can look you in the eye, not after all of these years, if it really is you. And if it wasn't then what? What would I say to her daughter?

The thought makes the fear that he refuses to acknowledge grip his chest, the fear that you were dead followed by the feeling of purposelessness that seemed to follow him since he heard the news.

If it is her daughter, maybe she’ll tell me if y/n suffered, if she died thinking that I hated her.

The memory of the fight stirs in his chest as Butcher knocks on the door and waits. But nobody answers.

"Must not be home." Hughie shrugs. "We could call her-" He begins to say, but Butcher deftly picks the lock and the door swings open into the darkness.

As soon as Butcher opens the front door of the apartment and Ben steps through, all he smells is you. It's enough to confirm in his heart that it is you and not your daughter. He felt something in his chest stutter to a halt as he inhales the familiar scent of lavender and lemons. It was everywhere, all around him, flooding his senses. 

And for the first time in forty years he felt comfort, at peace. For a moment all thoughts of revenge, rage, and justice fades from his mind and he is left with the memory of you.

Ben immediately is transported back to those quiet moments when he settled into bed next to you after climbing through your window. When you would fall asleep before him and curl against him subconsciously, your hair tickling his cheeks and sending the soft smell over him. The nights when he’d wrap his arm around you as soon as you fell asleep because he was afraid to do it when you were awake, afraid that you would reject him like so many others did. Those nights with you outweighed any other time in his life. He remembered that each time he crawled through your window you smiled up at him, were happy to see him, so different than the home he left behind, where his father wouldn't look at him.

He remembered the nights after you took Compound V, when even after a hard day when he was a dick, you still allowed him into your bed, allowed him to sleep next to you. Those quiet moments in the late hours of the morning when you cuddled into his side and muttered words in your sleep that he couldn’t understand all the while he brushed your hair back from your face stayed with him. As much as he refused to admit to anyone, refused to show any emotion, being there with you, felt more like home than anywhere else.

That's why he asked you to come with him in the first place. He couldn't leave you behind. Maybe that was selfish of him, but he would not pretend to be unselfish, not when it came to you.

He thinks about all the suitors that he scared away before him and you left Philadelphia, all his friends who expressed interest in you only to have him drive them away, and of course the one that wouldn't leave. The one that bought you jewelry and finally asked you to marry him, another reason why Ben convinced you to come with him.

The jealousy was familiar. Ben didn't want to leave you behind, the thought that some other man would possess you or love you made his chest hurt. You were his. No one felt the way about you that he did, never would. No one would know you, care about you or understand you like he did, and no one knew you as long as he did. And although Ben had trouble expressing it, he knew that he loved you, he hated himself for being unable to say it. He couldn’t decide if admitting that he loved you made him a pussy or it was his fear of telling you that made him one.

Ben looks around the apartment, noticing the artwork on the walls, the messy studio table, and smiles. He remembered the way you always had a sketchbook with you, he used to tease you about it,  but you would only roll your eyes at him and continue to draw. He loved watching you sketch, watching how focused you were as you created something so effortlessly. He remembered watching you paint with the watercolors he got you, feeling a swell of pride that he was the one who started that love. Ben had been afraid to give them to you, afraid that it was too thoughtful, but then he remembered how widely you smiled, how happy you had been.

The apartment felt like you.

And by now again he knows that it is you and perhaps that's worse, because now he has to face you and he doesn't know how to fix this, any of it.

You weren’t like him or anyone else. You didn’t bend under easy promises and gifts like the other women he had been with over the years. Your ability to read him and understand him meant that you were special. And you were. You were special to him.

He moves forward towards the darkened hallway.

"Hey wait-" He hears Hughie say behind him, but Ben ignores him.

Ben finds your bedroom easily and the smell grows when he opens the door. He takes in the controlled chaos of the room before his eyes fall on the suitcase on the large bed.

Where was she going?

Ben pulls your supe suit out of the bag and smiles at the memory of the day you first tried it on. You never wore anything form fitting, hid your shape under shirts and pants, but the day he saw you in this for the first time made his breath catch in his chest. He knew that you thought you were fat, but Ben never believed that. He loved every curve of your body, loved to trace them with his eyes when you weren’t looking  and when you finally let him take you to bed, his hands. Seeing you in the suit for the first time was almost enough to push him over the edge, but he kept it together.

He notices the plane ticket on the edge of the bed, beneath the bag, and he pulls out the printed piece of paper, reading the fine print.

She was going to Russia. She was going to come get me even after I-

The emotion that rises in Ben's chest is unfamiliar. He did not like giving in to emotions the same way others did because he believed that made him weak, a lesson his father had ingrained into his mind. But this time he doesn't attempt to push it down. The plane ticket crumples in his hand as his jaw clenches tight. A part of him was relieved, relieved to know that somewhere deep down you still cared about him, maybe that meant that you would be willing to see him.

But he still didn’t know how to fix this. He'd never been good with words or apologizing or, well, love in general. He’d never loved anyone before you. He frowns at the thought of all the meaningless flings he'd had in the past. There was only one relationship with a woman he'd ever been in, with you, and he'd fucked it all up.

He kneels and reaches under your bed, looking for the box he knows will be there. It's a dark rosewood, one from your bedroom when you were a kid, but now it holds a different value. Ben sits on the end of your bed and opens it.

He had caught you with it a few times, usually when you started drinking or on your birthday, always on your birthday. It's why he never let you stay at home, he made sure you came out with him, because your mind would drift when you were alone and Ben didn't like the dark places it took you.

Ben rarely liked leaving you alone. Whenever he was on movie shoots in another country he would call you just to hear your voice, and even when he went to bed with someone else and they fell asleep he would stay up thinking of you, wondering if you missed him as much as he missed you, and wondering if you could sleep without him because he couldn’t sleep without you. Another reason why he pushed you away, believing that it made him weak.

The photo on top is unfamiliar to him, it's newer, and shows you standing with a young brunette woman outside of a college dorm. He traces the lines of your face with his thumb. He hadn't seen a picture of you in forty years, but you were just as beautiful as he remembered. The one that follows is also unfamiliar, you holding a baby wrapped in a pink blanket, the baby’s hand wrapped around your index finger, and you looking down at it like it's your whole world.

The look in your eyes does something to him. He remembered when you looked at him like that, the morning when you woke up next to him and whispered those four little words to him that he always wanted to hear while holding his face tenderly between your palms, "I love you Ben."

When things got bad in Russia he would strain to remember the memory, remember the way you looked at him, the way the words sounded falling from your lips. The words that he always wanted to hear you say. The morning that he wished he could change and the disastrous night he wished never happened.

"We shouldn't be here." Hughie says to Butcher in the living room.

"She ain't home. We'll go when he wants to leave." Ben hears Butcher respond.

But Ben knew that he didn't want to leave, wouldn't want to leave. He had spent the past forty years away from you and he didn't want to spend anymore time apart from you, even if that made him a pussy, he didn't care.

"This isn't a good idea. Y/n didn't want him here-" Hughie tries again

"Oi, look at this. She's looking at flights." Butcher states, when he notices the laptop on the counter.

"What?" Hughie asks.

"If it ain't her, how would she know about Russia?" Butcher says back. Ben hears a rustling like Butcher is going through the trashcan “And take a look at this-“

Ben shuts out their conversation and pulls other photos out, finally pulling out strip of paper from a Photo Booth. It was the day he took you to a baseball game,  before you were supes. You’d never been to one before and Ben had only been to the one his father took him to, when his dad got drunk and forgot Ben was with him. Ben frowns for a second but then looks back at the collection of photos on the strip. It was a good day. He had bought you a ridiculous hat, and you'd sat next to him looking radiant in the sunlight like you always did sketching him. Ben loved it when you drew him, it made him happy to know that when you looked through the pages of your sketchbook later that you were thinking of him. He often wondered if you thought of him as much as he thought of you. You'd both gotten drunk on cheap beer and when a woman yelled at you for being unladylike you flipped her the bird and said some choice words that made the tips of the woman’s ears turn pink.

Ben loved that about you, that you never seemed to care what others thought of you, especially your friendship with him. Everyone you knew had told you to keep a wide berth from him, but you didn’t listen.

Ben traces your young face in the photo with his fingertip.

Maybe she should have.

He turns back and pulls out a yellowed photo of you and your mother. Ben frowns at the expression on your face. You were never happy when she was around. He hated your mother, not just because she hated him, but he hated what she did to you. He hated that she made you feel ugly, when you were the most beautiful woman that he'd ever seen. Even as teenagers, Ben couldn’t help but notice how pretty your figure was and how you filled out the soft dresses you wore when you went with him on adventures through the city. He never thought you were too fat, if anything he liked your curves. The night you were finally together he worshipped them, wanted you to know that you were beautiful, to understand that he saw your beauty, because he knew that you still thought about what your mother said to you. He hated that she had such a hold on your life even though she had been dead for so long.

He hears a rattle along the bottom of the box and when he picks up the source of the noise he immediately wishes he hadn't.  It's a single pearl, and Ben understands what it's from. It's from the necklace he bought you for your birthday, the one that you ripped off your neck when you found him with Countess. He had agonized over whether or not to get it for you, thought that maybe it was too thoughtful or rather was too romantic. But the look on your face when you opened the box made him feel like he’d swallowed the sun.

Ben's teeth clench together as a wave of guilt crashes over him remembering what he yelled at you, remembering what he did to you. He thought that it had been what he needed to do, that he needed to push you away because he didn't want to care about anyone else, at least not the way he cared about you.

He hadn’t thought it would hurt as much to say those things to you, but it had all but ripped his own heart out.

But even before you found them together all Ben felt was guilt. He wasn’t enjoying anything he was doing to Countess, all he wanted was to do those things with you. He thought it was necessary, that by doing those things with her he could somehow clear his head of you, but all it did was make him feel guilty and want you more.

He thinks about the days that followed before his mission in Nicaragua, when he agonized over calling you, over showing up to your apartment, but he couldn't. He couldn't face you.  He hadn't been able to sleep those nights before the mission and wanted desperately for you to be there with him.  Ben couldn't sleep when you weren’t with him. He hated that he'd finally gotten you and then lost you so quickly.

Ben notices a velvet box, and he sighs when he opens it. It's an engagement ring, the engagement ring that you showed him the night he asked you to come with him.

He briefly wonders if you thought that was his version of a proposal. That you believed, turning your back on your family and coming with him meant more.

I’m such a fucking idiot. I should’ve-

“It really is a shitty ring.” He mutters. And it was, it was all wrong for you. Ben knew what you liked and he couldn’t believe that this was what that asshole got you.

Why did she keep it? Because she wanted to remember what her life could have been like if I didn’t ask her to come?

Ben remembers when he asked you if he ruined your life, before everything exploded. He imagined that after that night you changed your answer, because how could you look at him, let alone want to be around him after what he did to you?

Ben examines the ring again allowing the memory of the night you showed it to him push its way into his mind. He remembered being scared, of course he’d never admit that, he wasn’t a pussy, but he acutely remembered the moment you showed it to him. The fear of losing you that struck him when he noticed it on your finger, as the weight of what it represented settled on his shoulders. He knew that the asshole who proposed would quickly turn you against him, and this time you’d believe it because you loved that dick or-

Ben reconsidered. She didn’t love him because she came with you. She loved you.

He remembers again what it was like to be with you in  bed, when you whispered those words so tenderly to him and is struck with guilt all over again.

You had looked almost sheepish when you showed me the ring, like you were afraid to tell me-

Of course she was afraid to tell you. She wanted you to propose but you didn’t instead you fucking ruined her life and strung her along for 40 fucking years-

He never understood how you did that. Survived all those years with him while he fucked his way through everything that crossed his path. How you continued to stand by him when he was a dick to you and so many others. And yet you never let any other man into your life.

He remembers the night after you got between him and Noir, remembers asking you if you wanted to marry Howard, but you said no. The other things you said struck something within him. When you said you wanted someone to come home to, someone who would love you, a family. He remembers how you looked the night of your birthday in the restaurant, how you watched the couples around your table and smiled. He knew what you were thinking, and he had tried to show you that he could be that for you by taking your hand where it rested on the table even though it went against every instinct he had. He wanted so badly to give you those things, to make you happy. Ben didn’t want you to find that with anyone else. He would have loved to have a family with you, to be with you always the way you were always there for him, or were until he fucked it all up. He remembers asking you to marry him, apart of it had been a joke, just to gauge your reaction, but deep down he was curious. He hadn't expected it to hurt so much when you laughed him off.

Ben sighs. When you spoke about leaving Payback he was worried, worried that it meant you would leave him too and then who would he have? No one. It’s why he spent so many nights in your bed, with you curled up beside him. He didn’t want to be anywhere else.

He shuts the ring box with a snap and throws it back inside. The memory of the night you spent together is just on the edge begging to be let in. Ben indulged in that memory many times over the years, letting it strengthen him. Remembered every detail. It was the first time that he actually cared what someone else wanted in bed. He remembered how your cheeks blushed when you told him that you’d never had sex before and how you said that you wanted it to be him. He never imagined that you would want him the same way that he’d wanted you all those years.The exact reason why he drowned himself in so many other women, because he thought that’s what he needed to do. Because you deserved someone better than him, you always had.

The thought is immediately followed by what he yelled at you in the bathroom at the premiere, when he turned something that you believed to be special, one of the happiest nights of his life, into a cheap fuck.

He remembered the broken expression on your face. He'd never seen you look so small. Ben always admired how strong you were, but as soon as he said those things to you, he watched you crumble when he broke your heart.

Worse still was when he grabbed you. He fights the shudder, remembering how he grabbed onto your arms. As many times as you’d stood between him and the source of his anger, he’d never laid a hand on you but that night, he was just so damn frustrated. You were looking at him with those big eyes of yours that always saw through him, understood him, and he was frustrated because he wanted to tell you that he loved you that he always had loved you but he couldn’t. He couldn’t admit it because he was a man and damn it a man didn’t show emotions and he was Soldier Boy he didn’t need anyone-

His jaw clenches together so tight that he hears the click of his teeth.

But he did. He knew that all he needed was you.

I’m such a fucking asshole. Y/n doesn’t need me and I don’t deserve her-

Ben raises his head to look at your bedroom door as he hears the front door of your apartment swing open. And he freezes.

Because why would you want to see him? He had ruined your life.

A/N: Alright everybody we made it to the chapter right before the reunion!!! What will happen? Will she forgive him? Who knows?! Even me, honestly. 😂

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

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[armageddidnt]

Welcome to My Collection of Random Thoughts during my nth* rewatch of Good Omens Season 2

*only amazon prime knows the exact number at this point but I’m fairly certain it’s in the double digits

Episode 1: Gabriel’s fly lurking in the box when Aziraphale first takes it inside 👀

Crowley’s promise of “two minutes” basically means that he’s been homeless and living in his car for the past 4 years strictly so that he can be within 2 driving minutes of Aziraphale at all times in case his angel needs him I’m not crying you are

So here I think the key word is “fragile,” Crowley knows they are ostensibly safe from their respective sides but that could change at any moment so he’s basically spent the last 4 years in anxiety-ridden terror hovering as close to Aziraphale as he can to try and protect him from heaven, hell, and anyone else that would want to bring him harm after all that business they pulled in season 1 with stopping Armageddon

Episode 2: I just happened to pause the episode while Aziraphale is lying to the angels about his miracle and LOL Michael really outdid himself here (Sheen, not the Archangel)

Gabriel trying to swat flies and almost smashing the repository of every single one of his memories

I’m cAckling

So if Good Omens exists in Good Omens, does that mean Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett exist in Good Omens?? Do you think they based their Aziraphale and Crowley characters on Aziraphale and Crowley??

Episode 3: So I’m trying to find any hints or foreshadowing of the Gabriel Beelzebub thing bc tbh I did kind of feel like it came out of nowhere which is really the only issue I have with them. I found this one scene where Beelzebub almost ?? seems to be concerned about Gabriel ?? But it’s blink and you miss it and there could be lots of other reasons why Beelzebub doesn’t want to fail in locating Gabriel (pressure from/leverage over heaven, etc) so idk

More Foreshadowing Fly content 🪰

Episode 4: So here we’ve seen that Shax can just appear inside the Bentley bc she did it earlier to talk to Crowley. Shax only pretended to be a hitchhiker so she could be invited in because Azirpahale was driving so technically she needed permission to cross the threshold of an angel 👀

This scene will never not destroy me the 1941 flashback is the absolute sOFTEST thing ever to happen on this show

We really need more context here I need to see the Crowley-Furfur Monkey Rides

Episode 5: ahahaha thank you google translate for absolutely destroying my sanity this evening

POP goes the Ziraphale

Okay I know you can’t hear it in the gif but just before Nina takes Maggie’s hand, there’s a very quiet miracle noise, like Azirpahale literally MADE Nina dance with Maggie, he said I’m writing a Mina Jane-Austen-Ball-AU and my otp will KISS godDAMMIT

Azirpahale seems lowkey kind of manic this whole scene tho, he’s controlling literally everyone to force Nina and Maggie together and whenever Crowley says anything that pokes holes in Aziraphale’s Magical Jane Austen Ball Fairytale, Aziraphale just straight up denies it. He wants Nina and Maggie to dance and he wants him and Crowley to dance and he refuses to acknowledge anything beyond that.

Is this just Shax insulting Crowley for how much of a nuisance he’s been or a reference to his former status as an angel ???

They’re both completely dismissive of each other when they’re trying to say something important and that’s the main issue they’ve been having this entire season tbh

Episode 6: I think it’s funny that Crowley describes the angels as bees here because in the book, Neil/Terry describe humans the same way. Guess we have more in common than we thought huh?

So the metatron was the one who originally decided Gabriel would be memory wiped and not sent to hell, and he was also the one that decided not to sound an alarm about Gabriel for some reason and said ‘just go find him yourself’ instead. The metatron has definitely got his own agenda and you can bet he doesn’t want Aziraphale up there in heaven because he’s a “leader” and he’s “honest” like that’s exactly what Gabriel was and look where it got him 👀

There’s just something I can’t quite put my finger on about the metatron bringing Aziraphale a coffee from “give me coffee or give me death” and then asking Aziraphale if he’s going to take the coffee he’s giving him…

I have not seen a single person talk about this since s2 came out but Nina literally calls Maggie “angel” because that’s the term of endearment they hear Crowley using for Aziraphale !!!! I’m still going fERAL over this and I can’t believe no one else is eitHER

Something about this part of The Final Fifteen compared to this scene from the first episode is so representative of the entire season. Azirpahale keeps saying “my way or get out” and Crowley finally hits a wall and can follow Aziraphale no further. So he does just that. He goes.

I’m sure a lot of us by now have seen this post that brings up how Aziraphale literally pushes the remains of Crowley into his mouth and swallows and it’s the only thing I see when I watch this now

We still don’t know for certain if Crowley queued up this song to play on their way to the Ritz or if the Bentley started playing it all on its own and it’s driving me insane

Basically how I am doing after my Truly-Alarming-Number-th watch of this traumatizing episode/season. WELP hope you enjoyed this garbage dump of my thoughts and feelings time to go cry for a bit again BYE

[beauspot]

Good Omens Is a Big Deal

With everything going on I haven’t acknowledged how grateful I am for what Neil (and John) did this season. I always saw Good Omens as a romantic story and everyone involved seemed to be super supportive of that. To actually see a follow through on those themes was wonderful though. To see Aziraphale continue to look at Crowley like he’s the earth, the moon, and the stars. To see Crowley continue to save his angel not because he needs them to, but because they love him.

To see them have their dinners, and give the other access to their prized possessions. To see them dance. They love each other. They are in love with each other and it’s not implied or a throwaway line that can be edited out.

It’s the beating heart at the center of the story.

And they weren’t meant to be. Neil himself will tell you when he and Terry wrote the book Aziraphale and Crowley were meant to be friends and that’s it. Over time their relationship evolved and where a lot of writers would simply ignore that and keep pushing forward Neil pivoted and said “you know what? let’s see where this goes.” The last time I can remember something like this happening was with Hannibal years ago, it’s so rare with queer pairings.

I know everyone was excited about the kiss and it is refreshing to see queer people actually get to kiss, it’s still not something that happens all the time, but that’s not what made them canonically queer to me. If they remained completely asexual and never kissed or showed interest in kissing one another I’d feel the same. While I always felt they were queer what sealed it for me were 3 things:

1. Nina and Maggie, a romantic pairing that parallel our angel and demon break down to Crowley how she and Aziraphale are partners (and it’s clear they don’t mean business partners, does Crowley look like he runs a bookshop?) but they never say what they’re really thinking. They go on to state how that’s all they needed, the obvious implication here being that Nina and Maggie shared their romantic feelings with one another and that Crowley and Aziraphale need to do the same. Upon hearing this Crowley takes that as a sign to confess his feelings.

2. Gabriel and Beelzebub, another pairing that parallels Crowley and Aziraphale who are also clearly in love with one another is something Crowley references while he is confessing his feelings. “If those two lovestruck idiots can go off together, so can we. Because I love you.”

3. Crowley and Aziraphale express plainly to each other that they need the other. Crowley says to Aziraphale he wants to stop pretending they aren’t a team, a group, a them.

Aziraphale says verbatim “We can be together.” and “I need you.” He doesn’t say “We can work together” or “I need you to help me” or some other cop out that a lot of other shows or movies might come up with to continue to bait their fans, while having plausible deniability.

They love each other and it’s not platonic.

To me, the kiss serves as a way to seal the deal for people who only understand queer love when it’s punching them in the face. That’s not to say queer people can’t like the kiss, it’s one of my favorite scenes in the show simply because of how heartbreaking it is, but they were a couple to me long before that. And to add onto that by making every other important pairing in the show queer as well? Nina and Maggie being happy sapphics who don’t die at the end. They’re not together, but the implication is that one day they will be. Two non-binary beings—Gabriel and Beelzebub—falling in love and choosing to be with one another forever. The angels and demons are all genderless and no one misgenders them and no one gives a FUCK.

That means so much to me and I genuinely cannot express how thankful I am that this show and this season were made. The only thing I can say is thank you for standing for something, because not everyone does.

[ladykailitha]

A Love Connection Part 4

Thank you to everyone who reached out to me about the drop in numbers. I appreciate you and will try to be patient as everyone seems to be really going through shit right now. Honestly if I wasn't a SAHM I probably would be one of those people.

In this we have Steve resigning himself to doing the game show, more of the kids, and we get to the actual game show! ka-shonk, I know!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

~

“Meow!” Odie cried at the indignity of being shoved in someone’s face.

Steve carefully wrapped his little feet so Odie would feel more supported. He stritched under his chin and Odie began to purr.

Chrissy inched forward until she was close to Steve. “Steve, he’s adorable. Where did you get him?”

“I found him in a cardboard box out by the dumpsters,” he explained, never taking his eyes off the kitten. “It was starting to snow and I just couldn’t leave him there. He was wet, and cold, and alone.”

Robin’s shoulders sagged. “Of course you can keep him, dingus. I wouldn’t have said no even without the Sword of Damocles in the form of the game show hanging over my head. He’s adorable.”

Chrissy tickled his little toes and then looked up at Steve. “Why Odie? For the name?”

Steve blushed, grateful his head was already down so they couldn’t see his blush. “A couple of reasons I guess. To honor Garfield the goldfish, for one. But also because of the coloring the cream body and brown ears is so much like Odie’s.” Just then Odie twisted and tried to leap out his arms. “And there’s the fact he very likely has only one brain cell,” he deadpanned as quickly caught the kitten before he hurt himself.

Robin snorted. “So I see.”

Steve handed him to Chrissy and he allowed himself to be subjected to her neck scratches.

“So are we forgiven?” Robin asked, shyly. “We really didn’t think anything would have come of it. Though we were really building you up, talking about how you really deserved to find love and how your luck had run to catastrophic with those you dated. We made sure be really sweet about you.”

“I think that’s another reason why they picked you, Steve,” Chrissy said, walking over to sofa to cuddle with the new kitten. “You would be a perfect opener if not season finale. All you have to do is fill out the questionnaire and then they’ll tell you when filming is.”

“You’ll need about a week off,” Robin explained on her way to the kitchen to put the beer in the fridge. “It takes two days to film the first half of the episode and a day each for the dates in the second half. Then a whole day filming the choosing ceremony or whatever the hell they call it. They just want you there two days before for interviews and legal stuff.”

Steve sighed and ripped into the bag of gummy worms. “All right, you fill it in while I dictate.”

Chrissy and Robin cheered. Chrissy opened up her phone with the email and started asking the questions.

“Why would they even need to know my measurements?” Steve huffed about half way through. He had migrated to floor where he was using a gummy worm that had fallen to said floor to tease Odie with.

“Probably for costuming,” Robin said sagely. “They just can’t let you wear anything to their show.”

Steve wrinkled his nose, but allowed them to continue. Once it was all filled out most of the bag of gummy bears were gone and he was a little exhausted by it all.

He buried his head in his hands. “Fuck me. What even is my life right now?”

Chrissy and Robin shared a glance and then slid down to the floor where he had Odie curled up on his lap. They wrapped their arms around him and just held him.

He let himself be comforted by their support.

~

New Year’s brought new challenges, especially when he learned he would have to get a sub for his class the last week in March. They couldn’t have waited a week so that he would have it off for Spring Break? Which meant he had to tell Mrs. Byers why he needed the week off. Which meant Will found out. Which of course meant the rest of the little buttheads found out about it, too.

“Do you get to decide the questions?” Mike asked, one day while they were hanging out in the AV room, Mr. Jenner finally having been fired and Steve forced to take over for the rest of the school year.

He had come to class after the winter break, drunk off his ass, stoned out of his mind, and completely trashed his classroom. Thankfully the equipment had been locked up and not subjected to his rampage.

Otherwise the school would have had to have him arrested to recoup their lost.

Mike had actually started to warm up to him after it was revealed he was going on some dating show. Steve wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but he decided to count it as a blessing and move on.

“Some of them,” Steve confirmed. “The first question of what is your ideal date is standard, and is part of the game show setup, but mostly they want me to be able to answer the questions myself, and if I can’t there’s really no point in having the suitors answer them either.”

“Suitors is a stupid name,” Max huffed from the corner. She was forced to join the AV because it was the only after school program that ran on Fridays and her mom started to have to work late on those days.

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Yeah and what would call them?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Contestants or something.”

“Eh, eh!” he said sounding like a buzzer on an old game show. “Boring!”

She cocked her head to the side. “Yeah, whatever, Mr. Catch.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “I’m not sure what the would replace it with consider a lot of the other options are copyrighted due to other similar shows, but yeah. It sounds like I’m a fox and they’re the hounds.”

“What about Hitch?” Lucas suggested. “It plays on the Love Connection theme.”

Steve shook his head. “There’s an old movie called ‘Hitch’ and he’s a matchmaker. So I’m betting they didn’t go that route for that reason. Especially since this show is on its thirteenth fucking season.”

“Mr. Harrington!” Dustin scandalized. “You aren’t supposed to swear at school.”

“It’s after hours and we’re literally outside the school waiting for your parents,” Steve huffed. “Anyone here gonna rat on me?”

He looked around at the bright faces and knew that not a one of them were snitches.

When no one answered, he said, “Here, I’ll tell you what. Each of you come up with a question for me to ask my suitors and bring them by next week.”

All the kids cheered.

~

After Steve got in his questions from the kids, he sent them into the game show and most of the questions were approved. Some were simple Star Wars or Star Trek, others were fun questions like ‘what is your favorite sports team?’ to in depth questions like ‘do you consider yourself to be a good person?’ That last one was from Max. He loved that girl fiercely and only wanted good things for her.

He packed up his things and made sure that Robin would take good care of Odie. He was going to miss the little furball.

He was flown out to LA where the show was filmed. He was shown to a fancy hotel where he would be spending the week. He was told that the suitors were in other hotels are around the city so that they didn’t meet accidentally before the taping.

Steve’s first day was with legal and how much money he would be making for his appearance on the show. It was roughly three thousand dollars to make up for the fact he had to take time off from work. Other than that it was all about them footing bill for all his meals and lodging during his stay.

He wouldn’t get the money until it aired, which he thought was bullshit, but it was whatever.

Robin had been right about the measurements as they gave him a lot of clothes to chose from. Then whatever he picked would be doubled so that he could look the same on both filming days. Then he would have special date night outfits that would be picked based on where they were going for the date.

All in all not a bad gig. Steve definitely preferred teaching though.

Then they did all the pre-show interview stuff the next day. He got to talk about his school and the kids he taught. He got to talk about Robin and Chrissy and his adorable new kitten Odie. That part wasn’t so bad.

Then it was time for the first day of taping.

He got dressed in a cream colored suit with a light blue button up shirt. The shoes and belt were nice leather, too. He briefly wondered if he got to keep the clothes. He couldn’t imagine they needed to keep them.

He wasn’t told anything about the suitors before hand, but they knew a lot about him. Which felt a little creepy if he was honest.

He sat in the ridiculous little booth he would be in so he couldn’t see the contestants. This was because they didn’t want him to judge their answers based on their looks.

The host was Bob Newby. He was one of the best parts of the show, Steve thought. He was sweet and friendly and everything wanted out a dating game style host. He was in a dark grey suit and white shirt with a red tie. A tie he was currently stroking nervously.

Steve smiled at him and Bob blushed.

“I’ve done over a hundred of these things,” Bob admitted, “and I still get nervous.”

“Well that makes me feel better about throwing up breakfast this morning.”

Bob laughed. “So this is how it will go, we will film more than questions required so we can get a good bunch of questions and answers. We will be filming out of order. The rapid fire questions first. Then half of the questions for round one today to round out filming. Then the second half of the round one questions with all of the round three questions.”

“That’s a little weird,” Steve huffed. “But it’s your show, man.”

“Trust me,” Bob said, “this way is easier to film.”

Steve just shrugged.

“You ready?” Bob asked. When Steve nodded, Bob pointed at the camera and counted down from three with his fingers.

“Hey, everyone!” Bob said. “Welcome to a brand new season of ‘Love Connection’ where we help lonely people make that special connection. This season we will be focusing on getting all those fancy letters LGBTQ+ a chance at love. We have your gays, your lesbians, your non-binary folks, your trans people, and one very special ace lady just looking for love.”

The audience politely clapped.

“I’m your host Bob Newby and today we have one very lucky catch. Steve Harrington from Hawkins, IN. He’s a middle school teacher who recently became a cat dad, to the adorable Odie.” A picture of Odie sleeping on Steve’s chest under his chin is shown on the screen behind them. “He coaches basketball and the swim team. And yes he does look hot in a Speedo!” A picture of Steve in a blue Speedo and wearing a white jacket and his whistle.

Steve decided he was going to murder Robin and/or Chrissy for that photo alone. Especially when the crowd goes wild, complete with wolf whistles.

“He enjoys watching sports, swimming, and reading in his spare time,” Bob continued. “He has tried everything to get a partner in this hellscape we call modern life, apps, bars, clubs and not just the ones with a dance floor and sick beats. So he came to us, so let’s see if we can match him to any of our suitors.”

The audience clapped again.

“Suitor number one,” Bob said, “why don’t you tell us a little bit about yourself.”

“Hi, I’m Billy,” the first voice said, “I’m a professional surfer with a ton of sponsors. I’m the most decorated surfer both nationally and internationally. I like sex, sex, and more sex. Just kidding. I like other things too. I’m a big car guy and a bit of a foodie, too.”

Steve was grateful that they can’t see him because Bob and he shared an exasperated glance.

“Suitor number two,” Bob said. “Tell us about yourself.”

“Hey, I’m Tommy,” the second voice said, “I’m an investment banker at a prestigious company. I like sports, traveling, and deep sea fishing.”

Steve tilted his head and nodded. Not bad. He wasn’t sure about the whole investment banker thing, but the rest sounded good.

“And last but not least, Suitor number three,” Bob said, “tell us about you.”

“Hello!” the third voice said brightly, and Steve could almost picture a dorky little wave to go with it. “I’m Eddie. I’m a music producer with my own studio. I like heavy metal, all things nerdy, and camping.”

Steve smiled fondly. He sounded a lot like Dustin. He could only hope this didn’t have the ego to match.

“All right, everyone!” Bob said with a winning smile. “Let’s begin the Love Connection!”

~

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

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2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @dreamercec @wheneverfeasible @themoonagainstmers @garden-of-gay @little-birch-boy

[bwat5-blog]

Beginners Guide To Making A Point: Arcane

**Spoilers For Arcane**

Good morning my friends. Have you or someone you know been victimized by one of the mean folks like myself ripping apart your takes on the show Arcane? Well today there is hope. I’m here to share the sinister secrets of our trade that allow us to commit such dastardly deeds. So the next time one of us comes knocking, you will be ready!

All too often, I see kind and gentle folks like you innocently trying to make statements like the ones below:

1. Caitlyn Kiramman murdered kids!

2. Caitlyn never showed any remorse!

3. Caitlyn lost her mom and acted like that was a justification for her crimes!

4. Caitlyn looked down and didn’t love Vi!

Now you aren’t doing anything wrong. Just sharing your take on this story and what happens. But then someone like me will come along and reblog with some snarky title and something like this:

1. There is no evidence of that whatsoever in any single moment of the show

2. I’d run down the various moments where she does show remorse

3. I’d list the long series of traumatic incidents that severely impact her mental state leading to her eventual fall into Ambessa’s clutches

4. Id explain that there are three moments and three moments only when she ever says a negative thing about Zaunites.

A- she calls the people who attacked the memorial animals immediately afterward. And lets be clear, they were.

B- She says Vi and Jinx share blood during her lowest and darkest moment.

C- She says something regarding the depravity of Zaun or something when talking to Singed after the Stillwater massacre. Of course I’d use the whole quote.

Then I would point out that she saved Vi’s life twice, spared Jinx after all she’d done to Cait in season 1 because Vi asked her to, started a war by trying to save Vander, and gave Vi the choice to free Jinx knowing full well Vi may leave and never return.

And you’d have a bunch of mean comments that hurt your feelings and people making fun of you and so on. But! I’m gonna show you how I do it and help you make your next case in a way people like me can’t attack. First we need to discuss one very simple rule

If you can’t back it up with content, it didn’t happen:

Now this one sounds simple. But it can be tricky to master. Let me give you an example-

Example: “Caitlyn murdered innocent Zaunites with The Grey!”

Okay. Now I know in your mind you see this and think, “well yea? I mean we saw the sketches of people who grew up surrounded by it their whole lives having problems. And Jayce suggests Viktor’s condition may have been caused by it. She exposed people to it that means she killed them”.

There is not in a single second of any frame, evidence that anyone died from exposure during the strike team’s operations. In fact we see several characters who were exposed, Caitlyn included, who are fine later. And I know, what you are thinking:

“But OP we don’t know if there were long term latent complications!”

Correct. And unless Riot and Fortiche tell us we never will. Vi could have CTE, Jinx could have untold issues from being infused with Shimmer, Sevika could have lung cancer. It’s all speculative. So if it didn’t happen, it isn’t good for analysis.

Going a tad bit deeper

Now this one does go even further. Let’s use this example:

Example- “Caitlyn never apologized!”

Now I see this one a lot. And I get it. She never says sorry out loud. So if you misunderstand the rule that means she doesn’t. But you notice it says “if you can’t back it up with the content”.

So while Caitlyn never speaks the words, we know she :

1. starts a war to save Vander

2. takes no action when Jinx has her back to her and instead rushes to save a wounded Vi

3. keeps Jinx in the Kiramman bunker rather than Stillwater and forgoes judgement until Vi wakes

4. has several bits of dialogue expressing her regret and self-hate

5. lets Vi make the choice to free Jinx, shows Vi love and acceptance when she feels she lost everyone

6. is quite clearly remorseful touching the place where she hit Vi.

These are quite clear signs of her remorse. So what does that mean? It means that even if it isn’t explicitly shown I can back it up with clear examples that are content driven. None of that is speculative. It is all clear and on screen.

And some of these are harder, like this one:

“Ekko clearly didn’t dispute the use of The Grey”:

We didn’t see Ekko. We didn’t hear from him during the strike team’s mission about what they were doing. So how can I say that?

1. We know he was in Zaun

2. He’s the firelight commander and has been battling Silco/shimmer for years for his people

3. He fights for the people of Zaun

These are all indisputable. And I can source each of these details directly from content. So sometimes you have to dig alittle deeper. But you can still support your ideas with plain on screen evidence.

*An Important Note*

We must also be careful not only to be sure we only use detail we can back up, but that we don’t exclude detail that does not support us. A great example for this is this one:

EXAMPLE: Caitlyn lost her mom and acts like that single loss justifies a full on dictatorship.

Now someone like me would come along and list the multiple times Jinx almost killed Caitlyn, the total eradication of Caitlyn’s faith in the pre-existing system after Marcus tried to murder her, the deaths of many of her peers in front of her, her abduction and possible torture at Jinx’s hands, listening to Jinx try and convince Vi to murder her, sparing Jinx at Vi’s pleading then watching Jinx murder her mother.

Now I’ve come and used all those details you left out and made you look silly. No one wants that! So be sure to include everything relevant. If its a good take it will survive it.

Conclusion:

So, using this guide hopefully you can craft your next analysis with the detail and content and avoid interactions with unpleasant folks like me. Just remember! Let’s leave the imagination in fanfics and keep the analysis to the content itself. Don’t worry though, if you lose track I’m here to help you out.

[janeyseymour]

Love Thy Neighbor- pt 6

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5.

Summary: Ellie's sick. Cue Melissa to jump in to help.

WC: ~2.7k

Over the past few months, the way that the redhead has made herself present in your life has only gotten stronger. She’s with you in the morning for breakfast, during the drive to and from school, she shows up when you need help with school work, there when you just need some adult time. She’s there for Ellie when she needs help with homework, wants to cuddle but you’re busy, there when she’s excited or sleepy, has had a nightmare and she’s with you on the couch, shows up when her dance class has a parent night… she’s just there. She always is.

But you still don’t want to ruin what you have going on. Life is easy and nice right now with her… if you two decide to date and it falls apart, she’s gone. Or you’re gone. You suppose that if it were all to go up in flames, this is her apartment complex, Abbott is her school, the coworkers that you’ve become friendly with are hers. The only thing that you would get out of a breakup with the redhead is your daughter. And even then, you’re fairly certain at this point that Ellie would be more devastated about not seeing Melissa than she is about the absence of her father. So you haven’t done anything about it yet. 

But that’s about to change… not that you know it.

Ellie’s been sniffling a lot lately, but you’ve just contributed it to the fact that the seasons are changing, you have allergies, her father has allergies… so naturally she should have inherited your seasonal allergies. You don’t realize that she’s picked up what seems to be making its way through Barbara’s classroom.

Your daughter is currently putting up the biggest fight of her life. She does not want to go to school, which is so unusual for her. She’s flat out refusing to eat the breakfast that Melissa made, she’s sticking her nose up at every sweater for her to put over her uniform that you try to show her, and she bursts into tears when you tell her that she can’t bring her stuffy to school with her because it isn’t a stuffy day.

“Elizabeth,” you sigh. You’re slowly starting to lose your patience. “Come on. We have to go to school today.”

“Why?! Other kids are not coming in because they’re sick!”

“Because you aren’t sick, baby,” you tell her as you pinch the bridge of your nose. “Now please. We have to be out the door in ten minutes, and Momma isn’t ready for school yet.” You suppose you’ll have to do your makeup in the car while your neighbor drives in to the school.

“I don’t feel good though,” she whines.

At that, you soften. You place the back of your hand on her forehead, cheeks, and the back of her neck. She’s a little warm, but it’s nothing to be worried over.

“I’m sorry, lovey,” you sigh. “You just have to make it through today, and then when we get home tonight, we can cuddle.”

As you’re leaving the house, you throw a few tylenol in your bag for Ellie if she needs it throughout the day.

The girl clings to Melissa as soon as she’s back in your apartment, and the redhead does everything she can to try to get Ellie to smile- it doesn’t work. She just lays her head on the woman’s shoulder and sighs heavily. 

You’re able to get your daughter into the school, and by then her cheeks are a little flushed. But she did fall asleep during the short car ride over, so you think that the red on her right cheek is from where her seatbelt was. 

Ellie stays in Melissa’s lap during the morning news, and when it’s time for her to go with Barbara down to the classroom, the water works start again. 

Melissa hands your daughter over to her kindergarten teacher with a shrug. You kiss Ellie’s temple gently, telling her to have a good day, before you and the redhead are making your way down to your wing. 

“What’s got pipsqueak so upset today?” your colleague asks quietly.

You bite your lip. “She isn’t feeling well I don’t think.”

She frowns. “Poor thing. Shouldn’t she be home? Or with your parents resting?”

“My parents are galavanting around Europe right now,” you huff. “Or she would be.”

“You could’ve taken off today to keep her home.”

You roll your eyes. “We are so short on subs lately, and I don’t need to have Mr. Johnson as my sub if I can help it.”

“Fair point,” Melissa chuckles. “Last time he was my sub, the kids came in the next day telling me all about the fourth dimension.”

It’s only about 9:30 when your classroom phone rings. It’s Barbara, so you tell your kids to work on the next math problem before answering it.

“Ellie still hasn’t calmed down,” the kindergarten teacher tells you quickly. “I’m not quite sure what else to do. I gave her stickers, I gave her hugs, I told her she could hold one of my stuffed animals…”

“I’m so sorry Barb,” you apologize.

“She should be home, Y/N,” the woman tells you sternly.

You breathe out. “I know… but I don’t have sub plans or a sub, and my parents aren’t around to come pick her up.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Maybe just send her down to the nurse so she can sleep on the cots?” you suggest. “I’ll call down and tell them the situation.”

The veteran teacher agrees and hangs up. You dial the nurse and beg her to let Ellie stay down there for the day while you teach. She begrudgingly agrees after you promise you’ll make her a key lime pie as payment.

Your prep comes faster than you really expect it to, and you line your kids up to take them down to the music room as Melissa is lining her kids up to take her class to gym.

“I can come to your room once I drop them,” the redhead tells you.

“You can, but I won’t be there,” you sigh as you fall into step with her. “I have to head down to the nurse’s office.”

“Ellie still isn’t feeling well?”

The two of you head into the nurse’s office, and the woman behind her desk doesn’t look very pleased with you. Ellie is laying on one of the cots crying.

“Oh, sweetness.” Your heart breaks at her little sniffles. As you pull her into your arms, you immediately feel how hot she is, but she’s trembling as if she’s standing out in the snow without her winter coat on.

“Momma,” she cries. “I’m so chilly!”

You immediately take your sweater off and drape it around her, pulling it tightly to her body. It seems to help, but she’s still cold despite the sweat forming around her brow.

“Kid’s been crying since she got here,” the nurse tells you. “Fever of 101. She should not be here.”

“I know, I know,” you mutter. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ll make you a meatloaf as payment for having her down here,” Melissa tells the woman as she too shrugs off her blazer and gives it to your daughter.

“Miss Mel,” your daughter reaches for the redhead immediately.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” the second grade teacher says softly, but doesn’t take your daughter out of your arms. Ellie squirms, and while you try to fight the hurt on your face, it doesn’t quite work. “Stay with your momma, hun.”

“But I want you,” your daughter mumbles as a tear falls down her face. You hand her over.

“I should probably get some work done anyway,” you shrug. You start to head out of the nurse’s office, but the redhead follows.

“I thought we were going to work on your lesson plans,” she says softly, Ellie on her hip.

You shrug. “I can always get some other stuff done.”

The two of you work quietly in your room, Ellie clinging to the redhead and falling asleep rather quickly.

Your preps are over far sooner than desired, but such is life. When you look up from your teacher’s manual, Ellie is fast asleep in Melissa’s lap.

“Shit.”

“She’s fine,” the second grade teacher promises. She stands and starts to make her way down towards the gym.

You chase after her. “Mel, she has to go back to-”

“I can teach with her,” the redhead tells you. “It’ll probably keep my kids in line better than they would be if I wasn’t holding a small, sick child anyway.”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” you argue back.

She waves you off. “You didn’t, I’m just doing it. And if it becomes too much, she can lay on my carpet with the bean bag and sleep there.”

“You’re going to get-”

“I’ve been teaching for years now,” she laughs. “My immune system is made of steel at this point. Don’t even worry about me. Just go get your kids and teach. We’ll see you at lunch.”

You watch as she makes her way down to the gym, Elizabeth in her arms and snoring softly. You see her press a delicate kiss to the girl’s sweaty hairline before smiling at her gently. The eyes that she’s looking at your daughter with are full of love and no selfishness in the slightest. If you weren’t sure before, you are now. Melissa is worth all of the risks in the world. You turn on your heel to pick up your kids from the music room.

Come lunch time, the redhead still has your daughter on her hip, and your heart swoons at the sight. The badass, mob-like teacher is just so soft and gentle with your little girl. Ellie is awake now, but she keeps her head resting in the crook of Melissa’s neck. As the two of you walk your kids to the lunchroom, Ellie waves at you sleepily.

“No sleeping again yet,” Melissa tuts quietly. “We have to make sure your belly is full and you drink some water before you nap again.”

“Mhmm,” your girl hums out sleepily.

Ellie spends the entirety of your lunch period wrapped up in your sweater and Melissa’s blazer curled up in your lap. You just barely get her to eat, but when Melissa attempts to get her to eat, she does so easily.

The rest of your friend group spends the period quietly, watching as the redhead handles your daughter with such a maternal warmth that they’ve never quite seen from her before. And when Ellie falls back asleep in your hold from your gentle rocking her, they fall silent at the steely gaze Melissa gives them. 

Ellie lets out a small whine for the redhead when you stand to pick your kids back up, and Melissa just takes her back into her arms with a wave of the hand.

“Pipsqueak’s been a good human heater for me,” she chuckles before glancing at your daughter. “Isn’t that right?”

The six year old nods into her shoulder before turning her head and blowing you a tired kiss.

“Only a couple more hours, and then you can curl up at home with your momma, okay hun?” she tries to assure the little girl.

“And you?”

“And me, if you want.”

“Yes, please,” Ellie requests softly.

At the end of the day, you make your way outside to help monitor dismissal alongside your neighbor. Ellie is still in her arms and fast asleep. She’s been asleep on the redhead for quite some time if the rather large wet spot on Melissa’s shoulder is any indication.

“My poor little girl,” you sigh as you brush a few hairs away from your daughter’s face. You kiss her head gently.

“She’s been out for a while,” Melissa tells you quietly. “But let me tell you, my kids have never been more well behaved.”

“You’ve been holding her since lunch?!”

“I tried to set her down on the carpet, and she stayed there for about five minutes before coming back over to me and begging me to hold her because she was cold. I just taught from my desk.”

“You could’ve sent her over to me,” you tell your coworker.

She shrugs. “I didn’t mind having the little one with me.”

Ellie stays asleep throughout dismissal and the drive home. When Melissa pulls into the parking garage at your complex, you grab your things and collect your daughter before turning back to walk in with the redhead. She’s still in the driver’s seat though.

“Go in. I have to run to the grocery store if I’m going to make my Nonna’s chicken noodle soup for the two of you.”

“I can make-”

“Trust me when I tell you this stuff will have El healed in no time flat, and you’re going to want it for when you get sick too,” your neighbor tells you. “I’ll be over once I’m back.”

You head in and settle yourself on the couch. Ellie lays on top of you, fast asleep and shivering. You kiss her forehead before reaching for the remote to turn on the television. There’s no way you’re going to get any work done tonight- you have to step up and be the mother for your daughter you always promised you would be.

The little girl only stirs when there’s a gentle knock on your front door, followed by the redhead stepping into your house and heading for the kitchen.

“Miss Mel?” she asks quietly.

“Yeah, baby,” you whisper back. “She’s making you soup so you can feel better.”

“I love Miss Mel,” she sighs quietly as she cuddles back into your hold.

You smile. “I do too.”

The woman brings three bowls of soup into the living room, along with two mugs of hot tea and some juice for Ellie, before settling on the couch next to you. The soup is amazing- not that you expected anything else.

When dinner is over, you give your daughter a bit of cold medicine, hoping she’ll feel better in the morning. She demands cuddles from both you and Melissa, but she’s quick to fall back asleep once she’s situated between the two of you. That leaves you and the redhead to chat about your days and have a bit of adult time. You know that you want to approach the situation at hand- the obvious feelings that she has for you and the feelings that you have for her.

“Why are you doing all this?” you finally ask.

“Doing what?” she raises a brow.

You gesture broadly. “All of this: helping us adjust to a new life, being here for Ellie, helping me get a job and then mentoring me, cooking us dinner… for heaven’s sake, you’re taking care of my child while she’s sick.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” she shrugs.

At that, you sigh. “Because I kind of expected to you hate me and stop coming over after I told you that us might never happen.”

“I could never hate you. I’d rather have you as a friend in my life than nothing at all,” she says softly as she places a hand over your own. “Besides,” she chuckles. “It’d be pretty awkward seeing each other at work and when we’re running in and out of the apartment if we stopped talking.”

You laugh softly. “Yeah.”

“And I think Ellie and I are something of kindred spirits,” the redhead says as she looks down at your slumbering daughter. “I couldn’t just leave her high and dry.”

You smile. “She’s a special one.”

“She is.”

“So are you,” you look at her with a soft gaze.

She rolls her eyes playfully. “I ain’t nothin’ special, hun.”

“You are,” you whisper as you squeeze her hand in your own. “So special.”

She rolls those striking green eyes again and turns her attention back to the television.

“Hey.” Melissa looks back to you, and you squeeze her hand again. “Special enough for me to throw caution to the wind and do this.” You press your lips to hers softly.

[moonstruckme]

On Thin Ice

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

This was requested by anon, but I'm not including the request because I'm going to write at least one more part and I don't want to spoil anything. But thanks so much for requesting, anon my love! I'm really having fun with it :) Also, just a disclaimer that I know next to nothing about figure skating, so while I tried to look most things up, there may be some inaccuracies

summary: when your usual figure skating partner Regulus is injured, you're forced to prepare the most romantic routine you've ever done with Sirius Black. You've known Sirius since you were little and have always found him irritating, but as you spend more and more time together, your feelings towards him start to change

cw: mention of injury (no details), Sirius Black is a relentless flirt

Figure Skater!Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 3.3k words

You want to be kinder to your friend, but you’re a bit angry with him. You’re not great at hiding it, either.

“It’s not like I can fucking help it.” Regulus rolls his eyes, and you do your best to undo the petulant pout of your lips. 

“I know,” you sigh. “I know that. I’m sorry, it’s just, seriously? Why can’t Coach give me someone else?”

“You know why.” 

You blow out another huffy breath, because you do know, but that doesn’t make you like it any better. Sirius is our best bet, your coach had told you, firm and impassive to your protests. He’s great on the ice, he always scores well, and Reg can teach him the routine while they’re at home. If we used anyone else, we’d lose time while they learned it. You’d sulked, and he’d given you a stern look. So suck it up. 

And you’re trying. Kind of. You wouldn’t ordinarily consider yourself an ill-tempered person, but Sirius Black brings out the worst in you. Always has. He’s Regulus’ irritating older brother, always around to pull your pigtails when you were little and make fun of everything you and Reg enjoyed as you got older. And in everything you love about your best friend, Sirius is the opposite. Where Regulus is restrained, Sirius is brash; where Regulus is content with a few close friends, Sirius needs an entire posse around him at all times; where Regulus has a quick, quiet wit, Sirius seems to feel a joke isn’t worth telling if everyone can’t hear it. He’s loud and facetious and insufferable, and now he’s your partner in the most intimate routine you’ve ever done.

“I know,” you groan again, falling back onto Regulus’ bed. “I just wish I could change it. Who do I have to bribe to get you a miracle recovery?”

Regulus scoffs, but he lies down beside you sympathetically. “The doctor said it should be better by next season, but a fractured ankle doesn’t fix itself in a couple weeks.” His voice turns bitter. “Trust me, I asked.” 

You wince guiltily. You’re not the only one suffering from Regulus’ incapacity. You’d both been practicing this routine for weeks. It was one of the most challenging and showy either of you have ever done. You were both supposed to have the chance to really shine, showing off your skills with complicated jumps and throws, some of which you’d never attempted before. But now Reg wouldn’t get the chance.

Ironically, it had been a fairly simple routine that had taken him down. One of your go-tos. You’d been performing it together for years, but maybe that sense of security was dangerous too. It’s too easy to land wrong, and one tiny slip had fractured Regulus’ ankle right in the middle of competition, forcing your coach to come help you get him off the ice. 

You’d cried more than he had as the on-site medics had inspected it, completely unhelpful but unable to bear seeing your best friend’s features twisted in agony. It turned out that was nothing compared to the look on his face when they’d told him he wouldn’t be able to skate on it for months. 

“How does it feel?” you ask, more gently now, and Regulus’ scowl softens in response. “Does it still hurt all of the time?”

“Not really, only when I walk on it. And they said I should be able to do that without much pain soon, just no jumping or anything.” 

Your heart aches with sympathy, and you have to resist the urge to reach over and touch his hand, his hair. Regulus has never much liked being touched, which you understand, but it makes him a difficult person to comfort. You resort to your method with the highest success rate: distraction. 

“Well, at least the cast is a fun accessory,” you say, forcing levity into your voice. “We could draw on it, it’ll be like having tattoos.” 

“Pass,” Reg replies disinterestedly. “Tattoos are more my brother’s aesthetic than mine.”  

“Ugh.” You roll your eyes, unable to stopper your irritation at the return of the conversation to Sirius. “Do you think Coach will let me have a new partner if I kneecap him?”

“If you’re going to kneecap someone,” comes a cool voice from the open doorway, “it’s probably best not to ponder your scheme so loudly in their house.” 

You raise your head to find Sirius leaning against the door frame, arms crossed insouciantly in front of his chest. He looks at you with the eyes he shares with his brother, but where Regulus’ tend towards cool grayness, Sirius’ always seem to waver between gray and blue, like the sky during a storm. They’re flashing now, amusement mingled with cunning, as you meet them with a glare. 

“Maybe I’m just giving you a red herring,” you say smoothly, “so you’ll never see my actual plan coming.” 

“I wouldn’t put it past you, shortcake,” Sirius replies, grinning when your face goes hot at the nickname, “but I think I’ll start wearing protective gear just in case. Reg, think you could revoke this one’s key until after the competition?”

Regulus pretends to contemplate this, staring up at the ceiling. “No, she’ll only start coming in through my window again.” You grin at him, and the corner of his mouth twitches in response, remembering all the cuts and bruises you used to have when you were younger from climbing the old tree outside his window, late at night when you were both supposed to be asleep. The first few times you’d tried, rotting branches had broken and fallen from beneath you, but you’d kept at it until you’d plotted a safe course. You’re sure Reg would have snuck downstairs to let you in the front door if you’d asked him, but better you get in trouble than him. “Anyway, it’ll be entertaining to watch.” 

“Whatever happened to brotherly loyalty?” Sirius feigns hurt, but gets past it quickly. “Well, I suppose you’ll just have to keep in mind that if I can’t perform, there won’t be a performance. I’ve already learnt half the routine, and I think you might struggle to find someone else skilled enough to catch up in time.” He winks at you, and you scoff, pointedly unaffected. “So I’ll see you at practice on Monday, sunshine,” he gloats, and disappears down the hallway. 

You wait until you hear the click of his door to lay back down, passing a hand over your face exhaustedly. “I can’t believe I’m going to have to deal with that all of the time,” you moan. 

Regulus chuckles wryly. “Welcome to my world.” 

☆ ☆ ☆

“Y/N,” Coach calls frustratedly. “You have to let him throw you, not jump.” 

You’ve almost just followed in Regulus’ footsteps for the upteenth time today, which isn’t exactly in line with your plan of getting Sirius injured, but you figure will do in a pinch. The truth is, your focus has been off all day. Switching to a new partner is always hard; you’re used to Regulus, you’ve spent years learning how to skate together, to anticipate the other’s movements, and finding that rhythm with another person takes work. But learning how to skate with Sirius is more challenging than even you had expected.

He’s distracting, for one thing. He keeps smiling at you, making faces when you mess up, and whispering obnoxious little pointers when you’re in the middle of a complicated move. And his own movements are bigger and more elaborate than you’re used to, lacking Regulus’ control. You can see, objectively, how it works for him. It gives his performance that extra bit of artistry that Regulus has often been accused of needing, but it makes him more difficult to anticipate. He’s stronger than Reg, too, so he throws you higher, flings you farther, grips you tighter. It’s a lot to learn, but your coach doesn’t seem very sympathetic to your plight. As far as he’s concerned, you’ve wasted almost an entire day of practice and are undoing weeks of hard work learning the choreography with your repeated mistakes. 

You nod at him again, moving to reset, but Sirius slides in front of you. 

“Hey,” he says, “I can feel you tensing when I go to throw you. Is something wrong?”

You cross your arms in front of your chest, breath still puffing into the air between you from the exertion of your leap. “No,” you reply shortly. “I’ll fix it.” 

And really, you should have been able to fix it a dozen tries ago. You’ve practiced throws with Regulus for years now. You’re supposed to push down on Sirius’ shoulders, use the momentum of your spin to give you a little boost, and let him do the rest. But you can’t seem to manage the last part. Sirius’ hands on your waist had discomposed you from the first try, and you keep finding yourself trying to jump off the ground before he has a chance to lift you. It doesn’t work, you know it’s never going to work, but it’s like some fight-or-flight instinct takes over every time Sirius’ hands get close to you. You suspect it’s because you’re so used to Regulus’ touch aversion; this routine is meant to seem romantic, but between the two of you, it had always felt chaste, more about the mechanics of the movements than the meanings behind them. Sirius loves to be touched, though, probably too much. He teases you about how cold your hand is in his, the tentative way you touch his shoulder when you’re supposed to grip it, how you jolt a little when he rests his hand on the small of your back. You’re on edge every second he’s around you, which by the very nature of the routine, is often. 

And so you keep jumping, which causes Sirius’s throw to be stunted when he can’t get a good grip on you, which causes you to fumble your landing. Every. Time. 

“You can trust me, you know,” Sirius persists, looking half earnest for once in his life. “I’m not going to launch you too high or anything. Just let me do the work.” 

“I’ve got it,” you growl, and Sirius raises his hands in mocking surrender, moving out of your way. You glide back into position, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. You don’t need his advice, you’ve been doing just fine without it for years. You’ll get it on your own. 

☆ ☆ ☆

“Why is it,” Regulus drawls, coming into your room, “that when you mess up at practice, it’s still my problem to solve?” He sits on the edge of your bed, careful not to disturb the open bottle of nail polish you’re using. “I’m not even your partner right now, but both Coach and Sirius are complaining to me that you can’t sync up with him.” 

You keep your eyes on your fingertips, sweeping the brush across your nails in careful, measured strokes. “I’m working on it.” 

“What’s the problem?” He sounds more puzzled than frustrated. “Sirius is annoying, but he’s not actually an asshole. He won’t sabotage you.” 

“I’m not accusing him of anything,” you say. “I just…I can’t get it right. I don’t know. He’s so different to you, and I can’t figure out how to make it work.” 

“Well, you’d better figure it out soon,” Regulus replies, not without sympathy. “There’s only a couple of weeks until comp, and it seems like the both of you will need all the practice you can get together.”

You know he’s right, and that’s exactly what you’re dreading.

☆ ☆ ☆

The next practice goes about the same, the only difference being your coach’s mounting exasperation. Actually, no, there is one other change: Sirius’ movements become smoother, more sure, as he grows increasingly familiar with the choreography. 

So basically, he’s getting better while you’re getting worse. 

Though you all know there’s no time to waste with the competition coming up, Coach ends practice early in his irritation, letting you go with strict instructions to get your shit together before you meet again tomorrow. You promise him you’ll try, though you’re both coming to know that won’t be enough. 

You take your time unlacing your skates, shrugging on your jacket and stopping to buy a hot chocolate from the vendor up front before going out into the brisk autumn air. You’d started this new routine after your first practice with Sirius, stalling so that he’d have a head start and you wouldn’t have to walk home in the same direction, but you take two steps outside before you realize your plan has been foiled. 

“Coach will kill you if he catches you with one of those,” you say, and the cherry of Sirius’ cigarette burns orange as he takes a drag, eyes lighting with playful defiance. 

He blows the smoke away from you. “You won’t tattle on me though, will you, sunshine?”

“Reg won’t like it either.” 

“He knows,” Sirius says, as though Regulus’ opinion is of little concern to him. “You took your time in there. Ready to go?”

You don’t try to keep the suspicion from your face. “You were waiting on me?”

“I figure we could use some extra practice.” He drops his cigarette, stamping it out half smoked. “If you’re not too tired, I mean.” You give him an indignant look, and Sirius grins. “C’mon, it’s too cold out here for those leggings.” 

You follow him reluctantly, sipping at your hot chocolate because damn it, he’s right. The wind had been cool when you’d gone into practice, but nightfall has stolen the little bit of warmth the sun provided. You wouldn’t be surprised if you woke tomorrow to find the trees prematurely bare of their leaves. 

The Blacks’ house isn’t far, and your eager pace gets you there in a hurry. You’re thinking you’ll go to Regulus’ room as soon as you get inside, ditching Sirius and whatever humiliation he has planned for you, but when you approach the house, every window is dark. 

“They’re at my aunt’s for dinner,” Sirius answers your unasked question, unlocking the door. “I begged off because of practice.” He laughs as you follow him inside. “Try not to look so happy about it, shortcake.” 

You roll your eyes, starting up the stairs that go to the bedrooms. “When will Reg be home?”

“Late.” Sirius’ voice is close behind you. “You’re welcome to wait for him, of course, but we may as well make use of the time.” On the top step, you whirl, relishing the opportunity to look down on him for once. 

“Fine. What are we doing here?”

You don’t know if you’d hoped he’d be intimidated, but Sirius appears as unbothered as always. “Like I said. Practice.” He brushes past you, leading the way into his bedroom. After a moment, you follow grudgingly.

Like everything about Sirius, his room is loud. Almost every inch of wall space is covered in band posters, medals from competitions, pictures of his friends. There are clothes strewn across the bed and shoes scattered about the floor, but if Sirius is even conscious of the mess, he doesn’t mention it. 

“What did you have in mind?” you ask.

Sirius turns, and when his eyes meet yours, they’re surprisingly determined. “We need to figure out whatever it is that’s been holding you up,” he says. “We’ve gotta get past it.”  

You feel like stomping your foot, but very maturely refrain. You’re about done with the subject of your failures for the day. “I don’t know what it is.” 

“I think you do,” Sirius says cooly. “Wanna know how I know?”

“How?”

He grins. “Because you just admitted it.” 

“You—I just asked how,” you splutter angrily. 

Sirius gives you a knowing look. “Right, so it has nothing to do with you being afraid of me touching you?”

Your face heats. How could he know that? You look at him for a moment, and he looks back at you with that cool, even gaze, like he thinks he’s got you all figured out. As much as you resent him for it, he’s right. You’ve got no shot at a decent score in this competition if you can’t get past your mental block around Sirius. “I’m not afraid.” You roll your eyes, downplaying the admission. “I’m just not used to it, okay? I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed, but you’re not exactly a carbon copy of my usual partner.” 

Sirius grins again, and for the first time you get the sense that he’s laughing with you instead of at you. “I have been made aware of that a few times over our lives, yes. But okay, you’re not used to it. Let’s get you used to it.” 

You cross your arms over your chest, not sure where he’s going with this but fairly sure you won’t like it. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m going to throw you until you can handle it without flinching. Sound good?”

You look at him like he’s stupid. “The rink is closed, and there’s nowhere for me to land here.” 

“Sure there is.” Sirius pats his bed cheerfully. You stay right where you are. Something changes in his expression, and you think you might detect a bit of kindness behind his teasing tone. “C’mon, sweetheart. I don’t know what Reggie’s told you, but I don’t actually bite.” 

You huff, but go to stand in front of him. He’s shed his coat, revealing the plain black shirt underneath, and the sleeves grip his biceps. Even in the poor lamplight, you can see his eyes changing colors like schools of fish as they swim. Now blue, now gray. 

“Alright.” Sirius sets his hands on your waist, and you tense automatically. “See, that’s the habit we have to break. Relax for me, shortcake.” 

His words certainly don’t help, but you do your best, unclenching the muscles in your stomach and legs. 

“Perfect,” he says, then launches you into the air. You barely have time to gasp before you’re landing on his bed, springs squealing in protest. “Okay, next time, try to spin or something.” 

“I wasn’t ready,” you protest. 

Sirius laughs. “I know. Sorry, couldn’t resist. Let’s try to do it like practice this time, yeah? So you go over there,” he motions to the door, “and run towards me. When I throw you, try to spin if you can, but don’t try to stick the landing or anything. Just land on your butt.” 

You roll your eyes, moving to the door. “Yeah, I’m in no hurry to break my ankle like Reg, thanks.” 

He winks. “Just making sure.” He spreads his feet a bit, bracing himself. “Alright, let’s give it a try.” 

It’s easy to remember Sirius is an older brother when he gets all bossy like this, but you comply, gaining as much speed as you can on the way to him before he’s gripping you around the waist, tossing you into the air. You manage a half-turn before your back end hits the bed. 

“Better!” Sirius exclaims, beaming at you. “You still seemed a bit tense, but at least you didn’t try to jump by yourself. Again?”

You can’t help a little smile of your own as you nod, pushing up off the bed and repositioning yourself at the door. 

☆ ☆ ☆

When Regulus gets home, he finds you sprawled on Sirius’ bed with his brother sitting beside you, both thoroughly worn out. 

“Did you fix it?” he asks.

You grin at the ceiling, wondering if it’s your pride or Sirius’ you’re feeling in the air, or both. “I think so.” 

“Coach might get the chance to be mad at me instead, tomorrow,” Sirius laments. “My arms are fucking dead. Too many throws and I might drop you on the ice.” 

“Don’t break my partner,” Regulus says warningly. 

“Yeah,” you second, hauling yourself into a sitting position and going to meet Regulus at the door, “please don’t.” 

You can hear Sirius’ eyes rolling as he says, “I won’t. See you at practice tomorrow, shortcake?”

It’s harder than usual to muster up annoyance for the teasing nickname. “See you tomorrow.” 

[tryandbehappy]

What Does June Actually Know About Nick And Why She Never Asked

It’s honestly kind of wild when you think about it. After everything they’ve been through (all the intimacy, trust, love) June never really asked Nick one simple question:

“Who are you, really? Tell me your story”

Season 1: “You’re an Eye?”

That was her only reaction when he admitted what he was. An Eye. A part of the surveillance state.

And then… she dropped it.

She never sat down and said, “Tell me what you’ve done. (or what you were part of/What you believe in)

And honestly, maybe she didn’t want to know.

Season 3: “He surved Gilead. We wouldn’t be here without him” (Serena)

Or the politician chick “He is not to be trusted”

June didn’t confront him after that. Never

Her own morality had already unraveled. She had killed, betrayed, survived. She knew what it meant to become someone you didn’t recognize. And maybe that’s why she chose not to judge him.

He still was the one who was there and always helped her survive.

Still the man who gave her the space to rage (I adore that scene in the car in 1x04)

And she needed it more than the clarity. I’m kinda fascinated by that fact to be honest.

She chose to protect the version of Nick she knew. The version who loved her, saved her, gave her pieces of freedom when she had none. Nick is still the man who gave her Fred.

She saw the way he looked at her, how he always came for her and did everything. That was real.

And maybe that’s why she looked the other way when he put took the title/stayed in Gilead/kinda built it

“There are good men everywhere. Even here. It’s just… complicated.”— June Osborne, Season 4

That’s who she clung to. Even if she knew there was more beneath it.

But we, as the audience, saw a little more than she did.

None of it was personal. It was efficient and controlled. Very often for his own safety. It doesn’t make him evil. But it doesn’t make him safe either.

But now something’s shifting. They started foreshadowing when her mother said: “He’s a Nazi. They all are.”

They’re deliberately playing with our emotions by that (and goddamn interviews).

They’ve always framed Nick as the dark horse but only off-screen. On screen, he’s consistently shown as good, protective, deeply feeling. What they’re doing now is building emotional whiplash: showing him at his most devoted, then planting seeds of doubt 😱

Not because he’s actually a villain but because drama needs tension. We’re meant to feel nervous (and actually I do). But it’s important to remember: within the story itself, Nick has always been the one who saves quietly, not destroys.

But for the first time, we can feel it. The illusion (?) might crack.

There might be a moment where Nick does something she can’t ignore (god I hope not). A decision that makes her see not just what he is but what he’s capable of.

The writers would be like “see??? you’ve all been blind!!!Haha. And June too. He’s too sweet and handsome and you’ve been ignoring the facts. He can love deeply and be evil”

And maybe she’ll feel betrayed.

Maybe she’ll say, “I didn’t know who you were.”

But here’s the thing - we did. We saw him protect, mourn the previous handmaid, break, and fall apart silently over and over.

We saw him risk everything for June. And many other good things I’m too tired to name.

So if the show suddenly decides Nick was a villain all along it’s not just lazy.

It’s a betrayal of everything we’ve watched. Let’s hope they won’ go there.

[giveamadeuschohisownmovie]

Ways I can see Squid Game 3 can go in terms of story:

1) Front Man, once and for all, tries to convince Gi-hun that people are inherently bad and that the games are just reflecting human nature. Front Man says that when push comes to shove, people will turn on each other since they value self-preservation over everything else. Gi-hun then says, “So if you had to kill Jun-ho for the money, would you?” Then for the first time in years, In-ho begins to doubt his own ideology.

2) As a continuation to the point above, In-ho confronts Jun-ho again. This time, instead of shooting his brother, In-ho kills himself (which also acts as a callback to the Salesman’s death).

3) Myung-gi redemption arc. I’m 50/50 on him either surviving and promising to actually help take care of Jun-hee’s baby, or tragically sacrificing himself but not before telling the group that they need to help Jun-hee raise their baby.

4) Yong-sik and Geum-ja survive. Only saying this because we already did the fakeout of Geum-ja dying during mingle game and I’m not sure how killing off Yong-sik would benefit the story. What I mean by that is that the only characters who I’d see getting development from Yong-sik’s death is his mom and Hyun-ju. Since Hyun-ju already has to live with Young-mi’s death, the only storyline I can think of in which Yong-sik dies is for his mom’s character development, which feels exceptionally cruel since the whole point of her being in the game was to get her son out. I don’t know, it feels too cruel to the point of grimdark if Yong-sik were to die for his mom’s pain, which is why I’m leaning to him surviving.

5) I can definitely see an ending where Gi-hun manages to save the last few contestants, but loses faith in humanity. Especially if the games continue on since people still desire entertainment and you can’t destroy people’s greed/selfishness.

6) The ONLY happy ending I can see for Gi-hun is if A) In-ho realizes his ideology is flawed since he can’t bring himself to sacrifice his brother Jun-ho for wealth and power and B) the O’s finally come to their senses and switch over to the X’s. This is the only happy ending I can see for Gi-hun since even if he manages to take Front Man and the VIPs down, he saw just how cruel people can be to each other. At this point, it’s not enough to take the games down, the people have to show they’re willing to change. It’s just like the ending of Squid Game season 1 where the homeless man was helped by the bystanders, thus proving Gi-hun’s point that there’s still good in people.

[sweetmoonpeaches]

So I’m rewatching MHA season 2 and like all things you tend to notice little things that make you kinda think. And I’m not sure if someone said this already but I’m going to still put my thoughts out there lol.

Let’s start by saying this. From what I’ve seen of the stadium there is only two main pathways to the battle part of the stadium and I’m going to call them point A and point B from now on. (Point C is where spectators are at)

After their fight uraraka is taken to get fixed by recovery girl afterwards she goes to the point A waiting room. Deku then heads to the point A waiting room because his fight is up next.

We then see bakugou on the point A side of the stadium.

but why?

The only reason I can come up with is that he was going to speak with Uraraka. My second idea is they just needed him to be there so that deku and bakugou could be there at the same time (My last idea will be at the end of the post)

But the only reason why I don’t think that’s the case on why he was over there is that they make a very deliberate choice to show his reaction to seeing deku. He has a more “surprised” reaction, Before getting upset. Like… He wasn’t expecting him to be there.

This next part I find interesting because it’s really telling about bakugo as a character in general lol

NOTE: I can’t translate Japanese so I’ll only be using the English version of this and maybe next time I’ll use official translations of the manga.

Bakugou then stops deku before he leaves to the waiting room. He then blames deku thinking that the meteor shower was deku’s idea. He then states…

“You would come up with something that annoying. “If we end up-”

And then he’s cut off by deku but the part that stood out to me is him saying “if we end up-“

I want to know exactly what “we” he is talking about “we” as in himself and deku? Or we as in himself and uraraka?

WHAT WAS HE GOING TO SAY????

my crack theory idea of what he was going to say could be:

A: bakugou saying that he (as in deku) could have really hurt her by having her do what she did

Or

B: bakugou saying that we could have fought longer if you didn’t give her the idea

Because he honestly did want to keep fighting. He did have a hard time blasting the meteor shower.

I don’t really think he’d actually be worried about hurting her though, but I can still see him getting upset at a deku plan that could potentially hurt others. That’s why he saw her plan as stupid it relied heavily on her getting blasted over and over again.

I honestly think I have an idea of what exactly he wanted to say to her or what he could have said:

It honestly wouldn’t be too far from what he said to deku. He’d still get upset with her asking her why exactly she did what she did. And she would have told him that it wasn’t a deku plan it was her plan.

There’s a reason why Horokoshi didn’t have bakugou and uraraka have this conversation.

Bakugou needed to hear it from deku. It doesn’t make since for him to be all that angry with uraraka. Annoyed yes but not angry.

The conversation between deku and bakugou ends there it’s focused on bakugous expression. He’s annoyed and slightly twitches not having anything else to say.

As I said before I have one last “idea” of why he was over there he could have been trying to go over to where 1A is sitting. I tried looking up a layout for the stadium but there isn’t really a map detailing the floor plans because honestly why would you need that?

Unless your a crazy person writing a in depth explanation of why I think a character was on his way to a classmates waiting room

Ok ok I swear one last thing! I think a few years back someone (not sure who this was a few years ago lol) had said he was trying to return her damaged jacket. Which I really don’t think that’s it. Because 1. Why would he care to do that? 2. Even while walking up the steps he wasn’t holding anything and 3. They probably gave the jacket back to her when giving her a new jacket. It’s a neat HC though!

ANYWAYS IN CONCLUSION TO ALL OF MY RAMBLINGS!

Horokoshi is really good at adding a layer of subtext over certain things. So much so that it makes people like me read into certain things. And ofc we will never know if that’s what he was doing but I honestly really think he really was on his way over there. There should have been either an exit to class 1A’s seats on his side of the stadium or I’m pretty sure that the waiting rooms are not actually connected to the hallways leading to the stadium seats.

If I missed something I’ll probably make an update post or something.

I’m not even sure if anyone will even see this

UPDATE: it’s only been like an hour but the ep bakugo vs todoroki at least confirms one thing it wasn’t an accident that he was headed over to where uraraka was as confirmed that he did in fact go into the wrong room later in this episode

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 7: Are We Old Friends Or Old Enemies?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

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

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: I'm going to rate this 18+ just to be sure. References to Past Sex, Sexual Innuendo, Cursing, Blood, Guts, Graphic Death, (spoilers?), Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC.

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

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Present Day

Your motorcycle crunches loudly against the black gravel driveway outside of Crimson Countess' trailer. It looks worse than you imagined, shoved behind Vought-land, and sprouting out of the ground like a fungus. Not an unusual thought given it's ogre-like inhabitant.

You weren't looking forward to seeing her after all these years, because you knew it wasn't going to end well. Deep down you hoped that she had let go of everything that happened in the past, like you had tried, well, until Butcher and Hughie showed up at your apartment. Then again, you're not sure that you've really let go of everything that happened. Sometimes it felt like you just shoved all your feelings into the deepest darkest part of your brain where they’d been festering for the past forty years.

And ever since Butcher and Hughie showed up, those feelings had been clawing their way out like a banished Titan climbing out of Tartarus.

You think again about driving away. If you saw her, there wouldn't be any going back. You couldn't go in there pretending to be your daughter, you had to be you. Which meant the possibility of losing the life you'd constructed in the aftermath that followed your long superhero career.

Was it worth it? Was Ben worth it?

You sigh considering that thought. After the fight it was difficult to answer that question. If the answer was no, you might as well just leave. But the answer was yes. You hated that after everything that happened between Ben and you, the answer was yes.

And that meant you needed to know the truth, needed to see it in her eyes. Which also meant there was only one choice.

You look around the clearing where the trailer sits. It’s in a circle of trees that filter the setting sunlight through their lofty branches, making patterns on the gravel where weeds and patches of grass break through every few feet like an oasis in a desert. Further down the road to the right you see a collection of empty circus carts that rust onto yellowed grass, rising from the earth to tangle in the wooden wheels of the carts.

At least the trees are pretty. You think to yourself trying to focus on the positive. They were, after all, one of your favorite things to paint.

You consider your apartment downtown, the open floor plan and large windows, very different from how she chose to live her life. Your eyes trace the mobile home thinking back about the fungus analogy.

The trailer was covered with peeling white paint stained black and yellow in some areas where sticky mold had begun to fester against the structure. The rickety porch was rotted, so much so that when you walked across it, it creaked loudly beneath your feet and you stepped around several foot-sized holes, where others had fallen through.

She definitely didn't budget her money well. I wonder how much money she got when she was a hero? I know that my salary wasn't amazing. Ben definitely did better than me because of his films.

Then again, you were living off money from your father, and your grandfather's investments in real estate, not to mention your artwork was selling better than it ever had.

Your knock against the flimsy front door of the mobile home, not using your supe strength, but the entire house still shakes.

Probably wouldn't withstand a thunderstorm. Hopefully she's invested in an umbrella.

No one answers and for a moment you hope that she's not here or she's dead, but just like always you’re disappointed.

"Who the fuck is it?" You hear Countess' familiar voice shout from inside.

A swarm of memories flock across your mind at her voice, but you push them aside.

"Your best friend in the whole world." You respond, before you can stop yourself. Sarcasm was an easy fallback. If your mother was here she'd say that it wasn't ladylike.

Really just disappointing her in every century. The thought makes you happy.

"What?" Countess rips open the door so savagely that you wonder how the door didn't come off in her hand. You watch her eyes widen and her face pale as her gaze lands on you.

Well, that's certainly not a normal reaction to seeing me.

"Y/n?" You hear her heartbeat spike in her chest. "You're-" She sputters to look for the right word.

"Alive? Yes." You smile at her. "Well, aren't you going to invite me in?"

"Um-"

A flash of the last time you saw her comes roaring back. The smug look on her face when you caught her and Ben together, the way her face was flushed bright red, sweat dotting her hairline while he- You clear your throat to stop the memory.

You push past her into the small residence, not waiting for her to invite you, and your nose wrinkles as the smell of sweat and her rancid perfume invade your nostrils. It was barely two rooms, the small kitchen/living room was separated from the bedroom with a red beaded curtain that doesn't hide the unmade bed and clothes covered floor.

This was unusual given the fact that she was wearing her supe suit, complete with cape and mask. It was a little tighter in some places than you remember, her reddish hair reeked of cheap dye, her perfume like a cloud of sulfuric acid, and her pointed, cruel face was more wrinkled that the last time you saw her.

"I'd like to say that this is cute," You turn to look back at her from the small kitchen/living room, that was covered in dirty plates and take-out boxes. "But it's kind of a shit hole, isn't it?"

That was fast. So much for trying to be civil. Too much history I guess.

"What are you doing here?" She keeps her voice calm, but the tempo of her heart suggests otherwise.

Your eyes trace the lines of her face, the wrinkles, the subtle graying of her hair that the dye couldn't cover. "Just thought I'd check in. See how things are going. You definitely didn't age well."

"What the fuck do you want?" She snarls this time.

You can't help but smile at her. Something about this whole situation was utterly ridiculous to you.

She said Ben died. Why am I even here? What did she have to gain from his death? The thought swishes around in your brain. But then why was she afraid when she saw me? You think about all the times you spent watching her manipulate the others on Payback and all the other times you were around her, she never showed fear. Why now?

"I'm here because somebody showed up the other day asking me about Ben." You shrug, running one of your hands against the dirty kitchen countertop examining the tip of your finger as if looking for dust. "And it's funny, because as they were asking me questions I realized that you and I never talked about what happened that day. I mean I heard what you said through Stan and Legend, but I never heard it from you. Thought it was time we had a little heart to heart."

Her pulse spikes again, but she covers it with a smirk. "You want to talk about Ben?" Her voice drips with false sweetness. "Well I'll say this, he was a good fuck. But I'm sure you knew that."

Your entire body goes rigid, remembering the night that you found them together, the night after you finally told him you loved him and he pushed you away.

"I mean, after all, he popped your cherry didn't he? Made you a woman." Countess' smirk turns into a rueful smile. "You definitely waited long enough. Ben told me how long you’d been friends. He told me the sex was so boring, that you were so inexperienced, that he wanted a real woman who could actually please him. A woman who wasn’t quite so-." She sniffs, tapping a bright red fingernail against her hip. “Big.”

Her words are like a slap in the face and you feel the cold disapproval of your mother for the first time in eighty years. The anger that surges up underneath your skin flares hot against your cheeks.

Ben wouldn't have said that about me. He- he knew how special that was for me. He said that he wanted it to be special for me.

You remember how happy he looked when you woke up in his arms the next day, before you said the three little words that you couldn't hold in anymore, the ones that you had wanted to say to him since you were eight.

"Poor little y/n. You worshiped the ground he walked on for so long  and finally he decided to pity fuck you. It’s so sad. You wasted your life pining for someone who will never love you. And you thought you could just come here and intimidate me? You’re still the same little girl who begged Ben to fuck yo-"

Her body flies forward telekinetically into your outstretched hand, that clamps down around her throat.

"But I do intimidate you." Your eyes shift to purple with your display of power. "Your heart rate hasn't dropped below 120 since I got here. So obviously there's a reason why you're afraid of me." She gasps against your hand, but you don't let go. "Tell me what happened that day." Your voice has slipped into a monotone, tinged with rage. “And I promise that I’ll let you live. In what condition, well, that's up to you.”

"I don't have to tell you anything!" She spits, pushing her hands together and sending you flying backward as the ball of fire hits you just under the right side of your rib cage.

There's a high pitched popping sound, an immeasurable amount of pain, and everything goes black.

It wasn't the first time you'd died. You'd heard of other supes being able to come back from the dead, and of course the others like Ben and Homelander who were almost invulnerable to injury, but your gift was different. Yes you had enhanced senses, speed, and strength, which were the original powers that were displayed after you received the injection of Compound V, but there was more to it than that.

It took you the first two deaths to figure it out, and you could remember both clearly.

The first was a few weeks after you took Compound V, when you and Ben were on his tour overseas promoting the might of the United States. It was supposed to be safe. The shot fired from the crowd was meant for Ben, but you pushed him out of the way. It was before you figured out he was bulletproof. Your gut reaction was to protect him as it always was. He ripped the guy in half for what he did and turned back to you. You remembered how he looked, remembered the fear in his eyes he never allowed to break through the façade he wore as Soldier Boy as he held you across his lap, holding a hand against the wound where blood poured freely from your chest. You remembered gazing up at him for what you thought was the last time and then the darkness that followed, welcoming you like an old friend.

And then thirteen seconds later you woke up, gasping for air, the bullet wound healed leaving only a circular scar behind. You didn’t understand at first, it wasn't until you died the second time that you realized how powerful you could be. The second time was Ben's fault, a scorned lover, a telekinetic, with a bone to pick with him. When you got in her way she'd snapped your neck with her powers. But this time when you woke, it was different, you felt different. You could feel her powers stirring beneath your skin, and it wasn't until you flicked her away from Ben that you understood. When you died a normal way you came back after 13 seconds, but when a supe killed you, you came back in 13 seconds with their powers.

You didn’t know why 13 seconds. In fact it was Ben that told you it was exactly 13 seconds, why he knew that you didn't know. It seemed that for everyone else 13 was an unlucky number, but for you it was the difference between life and death, literally. You also didn’t understand why you kept the powers. Sometimes you wondered if when you were killed by a supe your body analyzed how you died, understood it, and then you came back with that forbidden knowledge like you’d just eaten the fruit off the wrong tree. 

Ben was the only one who knew and when anyone asked, you attributed your sudden ability to move things with your mind as something you never used in public. Having that much power scared you. You weren't sure what people or Vought would do if they found out, so you kept it to yourself and so did Ben. Honestly, sometimes you think the reason why he kept it to himself was because he didn’t want anyone to be more powerful than him, but you didn’t care about the abilities. You didn’t think you were a god despite Vought’s constant worship and praise. If anything, you felt closer to hell and in a binding contract with the devil.

Exactly thirteen seconds later, you sit up from the floor completely healed while Countess stands there over you, a horrified look on her face. She'd never seen you die before.

"Did you just try to kill me Countess?" You ask.

She puts her hands together to shoot another fireball, but you make a motion with your hand to that flicks her away. Her body soars backward illuminated in the purple glow that manifests with your telekinesis, into the small hallway that leads to the bathroom on the other side of the mobile home.

"You know," You stand from the ground looking down at your melted motorcycle jacket. "This was my favorite jacket. Had it from the 80's it was vintage. Damn.”

“How-“ She groans stumbling to her feet and leaning on the wall for support.

“We all have our secrets don’t we? And I'd love to hear yours."

Her eyes flash to where the front door is, but you beat her to it, yanking her back towards you by the arm, crushing her right wrist in your hand. Her scream of pain quenches the anger fueling in your chest from the words she snarled at you earlier.

"You're pretty worthless, even with your powers." You sigh. “I was hoping for more of a challenge.”

She cradles her broken wrist to her chest, backing away from you. Fear flashes in her eyes when she realizes that she's made a mistake, but instead of it making you feel powerful, it makes you pause.

Being a hero was difficult. You watched how so many others abused their powers over the years, feigning to be pure and heroic but really succumbing to dark urges when no one was looking. It was also why you hated Herogasm.

You hated it because you knew what happened to the normal people, the ones that thought they would be safe with the heroes they admired so much. You'd watched Ben lose control more than once, knew stories of innocent people that were hurt, not that Countess was innocent. But you never liked to hurt people with your powers. Standing here in this trailer made you guilty and watching her cower away from you made you guilty despite your shared history and her harsh words.

"So I'm just going to ask one more time, what happened to Ben?" You force your voice into a snarl, shaking off the guilt.

Because it was necessary. It wasn't just about you settling something from years ago, it was about Ben.

She deserves this, she isn't a good person.

"Go to hell." She spits at you.

You grab her by the front of her red suit and throw her away into the small kitchen. Countess' body crashes into the lopsided brown cabinets with a solid thwacking sound smashing through the flimsy structures. Blood drips down the side of her face from where she hit the cabinet corner, blending into her reddish hair. She rises from the ground with an angry snarl, clutching a dirty knife in her hand.

"I don't want to get tetanus from that. I can't remember when my last shot was-" You begin to say with a sigh.

She swipes the air in a vicious arc, but you grab her by the wrist, dodging the knife. "You never learn do you?"

The wrist twists to the side in your hand with a loud snapping sound followed by Countess' scream that reverberates in your skull as you break her other arm. "Pretty soon you're gonna be out of limbs, so I'd start talking."

Countess drops to her knees as the pain begins to seep into her body. "Fine. I'll tell you-"

"Then do it."

"He's not dead."

As the world stops spinning a high pitched ringing in your ears takes over, filling the monotonous drone of seconds ticking past. The past forty years no longer matter, the next hundred wouldn’t either, because Ben wasn't dead. As much as you hated him, the thought chilled you to your core, because then where the hell was he?

"Or at least he wasn't when they took him." She mutters, holding her arms to her chest.

"What did you do?" Your voice comes out in a whisper because you can hardly speak let alone comprehend what she's saying. "WHAT DID YOU DO?" You scream, grabbing her by the front of her suit.

"They wanted him." She spits.

"Who did?"

"The Russians. They wanted him and they took him!"

"You sold him out to the Russians?" You roar, hauling her up into the air so close you can smell what she ate for lunch. "Why? Did they pay you?"

"No. We all hated him!" She snarls. "But you were always around." Her mouth twitches into a painful smile. "It was so easy to get him to fuck me. I knew it would drive you away, you'd wanted him for so long and he didn't give a damn about you. And then you weren't there to protect him!" She laughs through the pain that builds in her chest.

I was right. She fucked him to make me angry, to get me to turn my back on him. I wasn't there to help him and they sold him out the first chance they got.

"He always wanted me more than you, knew that I could satisfy him better than you ever could. You really thought that he could love you? Ben doesn’t love anyone!” Her eyes glint with malice. “And you’re still the same pathetic little girl who begged Ben for his co-“

Her head tears from her shoulders in you hands cutting off her next words, the explosion of blood from her carotid artery spraying your face, and soaking into your ruined clothes. The ringing is back, filling the void of silence in the air that followed the tearing of bone and sinew.

You stand there for a minute holding it, not quite comprehending what you've just done. You hadn't lost control in a long time, not since you had the fight with Ben about Countess, or when you threw your sofa through one of the walls in your apartment and then broke every piece of glass, windows included, and had to move when you found out he was dead.

Or not dead. The thought chills you. Payback handed him over to the Russians, where he's been for the past 40 years? Why? Just because he was irrational, angry, and a dick? There's got to be more to it than that. Stan would have never allowed that. Soldier Boy was his golden boy, his meal ticket-

You think about the last forty years of hating Ben, cursing him, trying to forget him, wishing that you'd never loved him. The night you fought washes over you, bringing the anger, frustration, and heartbreak roaring back. The head in your hands smashes into mush as the memories barrage your mind, surging over the dam you built to keep them away.

You and Ben had always watched each other's backs. It was the promise you made to each other before all of this started, on the night he asked you to come with him and leave everything you knew behind. You knew him better than anyone else.

And yes maybe he fucked me once and I told him I loved him and he immediately went out and fucked Countess-

Your heart cracks in your chest with the thought, the heartbreak coming back in a wave of sadness that makes you shudder.

But you couldn't leave him, because you knew he would have never left you. Ben may have said that he didn't care about you, but you knew in your gut that Ben would have torn anyone apart who hurt you. He's always protected you. Even before you became supes together.

You stare back down at the mush coating your hands and the front of your clothes.

Why the fuck is everything so complicated?

When you get back to your apartment you're covered in a thin layer of soot, from blowing up the trailer, and a layer of blood and brain matter from removing and crushing her head. You hoped that by blowing up her home and burning her body with your newfound abilities that it would be enough to cover your tracks, but you were uneasy. The buzz of killing her and the shock of her revelation had worn off, but was now replaced with a numbness when you think about what could have happened to Ben, what could still be happening to him.

The shower does little to ease your mind and sleep evades you, despite the exhaustion that pulls at your limbs for using your powers. Dying usually meant that you needed to replenish that energy, but you couldn't muster the enthusiasm to do that. You just felt listless. The last forty years felt like a lie, felt like a waste, because as you’d been living your life Ben had been trapped in Russia.

So you open your laptop on the counter, wet hair soaking through your sleepshirt, and begin to research flights to Russia leaving within the next few days.

I have no idea where I'm going. I go to Russia and then what? Where in Russia? The Kremlin? Yeah let me just waltz right up to that.

You lean forward with your head in your hands thinking about Butcher. He came here because he wanted to know more about Ben. Maybe he knew where he was. He was the one who mentioned Russia.

You pull the card he left behind on your counter towards you, rubbing your thumb over the number. Legend said he kills supes. So is that what he wanted? To find Ben and kill him? The thought makes a chill travel down your spine, immediately followed by the primal urge to protect Ben. But what had Ben ever done to him?

You look at the number again.

If I call him, he's going to know that I was lying. Not that I'm scared of him.

You finally pick up your phone and dial the number, but it goes to voicemail.

"Hey this is Y/f/n Y/l/n. I just remembered a few things about Soldier Boy and thought you'd like to discuss them. Just give me a call-back whenever you get this."

You hang up the phone and sit there for a minute, eyeing the coffee that sits untouched next to your open laptop.

I killed someone today. The thought should be chilling, but you feel no remorse, no guilt.

Is that because I think she deserved it?

Your mind goes back to what she said about Ben sleeping with you, what he told her about you. The urge to cry rises in your chest with the memory of her words.

You remembered that night. You had been so excited. Ben had taken you out to dinner for your birthday, despite your insistence that you'd celebrated enough of those. The restaurant was quiet, secluded, different than the flashy world the both of you were living in.  It had reminded you of before you took the Compound V, when you were still normal. The food was good, there was flirting and hand holding at dinner, and finally a slow dance when he kissed you for the first time.

And when he took you back to your apartment and to bed, it didn’t seem like a quick fuck, it didn't feel like cheap sex. The way he took care of you, held your hand, said your name, looked at you, held you close to him after, and the soft smile on his face that he had only when it was the two of you- it felt special. He made it special for you because he knew how important it was for you.

Tears slip down your cheeks. It would have been one of your favorite memories if you didn't know what followed, what was going to happen the next morning or in the next 24 hours. 

"Guess it was just a lie." You mutter to yourself, wiping the back of your hand across your eyes.

The next morning when you woke up in his arms you couldn't help but tell him that you loved him, whisper it to him, more happy than you'd ever been curled against his chest. You remembered the way he looked at you, like you were crazy and then he left for his movie premiere even though we were supposed to go together muttering flimsy excuses as to why he had to leave. And finally the image of him and Countess in the bathroom crashes over you, sending shards of glass back into your heart.

You thought that by now you'd picked them all out.

More tears drip down your cheeks, as your thoughts drift back to Ben and the years that followed that night. You sigh considering what to do.

I wish I could just forget, wish that I could leave him, but I can't.

But that didn’t mean you had to forgive him.

After a night of no sleep, you stand poised over the wooden chest in the back of your closet. Packing for the flight that left in two days was turning into a bigger task than you'd thought.

Your current wardrobe wasn't suited for storm the capital city of Russia and kill everything in your path to find Ben, it was more suited for late night painting and art shows. The amount of paint stained overalls, oversized band t-shirts, sweatpants, and dresses in your closet was astounding and none of which screamed "fear me." You would definitely need to go to the mall to find more things that you could move in, if need be, and find things that hid your identity. All it took was one photo or video linked online and everyone would know that you weren’t dead.

You knew that no one would be willing to talk to you, give up the information willingly, not to mention if you really had to break into the Kremlin it was not going to be a walk in the park.

It wasn't that you were out of shape. You still trained during the week, took self-defense classes, and worked out to prevent yourself from going soft, but fighting Countess was the first time in forty years that you had faced another supe and you weren’t up to speed on the supes that the Russian government employed.

You also didn't like the idea that you were going in blind. There could be any number of men there, any kind of supes, and anything waiting for you.

But the truth was, deep down you didn't care. What the rest of Payback did had ignited something deep inside you. You knew that people were going to die if they stood in front of you, but the urge to protect Ben rose above all else. Because you still loved him, despite everything he said, despite everything he did, he was still Ben after all this time and you couldn't let him go that easily. 

You hold up your supe suit in front of you. It was made specifically for you, designed of a breathable material that made movement easy, not to mention the hood and mask did a wonderful job of concealing who you were.

I really don't want to wear this again. You think to yourself, eyeing the smooth material. It wasn't that you hated your suit, it was what it represented. If you wore that again, you'd be Indigo and you'd spent the past forty years trying to put as much distance between you and your superhero career as possible. You would be recognized instantly.

Could I even squeeze into this thing again?

You look at yourself in the floor length mirror on the opposite side of your walk in closet. You looked the same as you always had. Countess’ jeer about you being big makes you flinch again, bringing another cloud of insecurity over your mind.

Maybe that’s why he never slept with me before that night. Maybe that’s why he ran to Countess.

The thought is immediately followed by the image of Missy Callahan at your 16th birthday and how Ben clung to her. Then followed by your mother’s constant attempts to hide your figure. And finally, followed by all the other women you had ever seen Ben with. None of the others had looked like you. You shake off the urge to cry and look back at the suit.

Maybe I can paint over the purple, make it only black? Would that really change it that much?

Suddenly your phone rings, shattering the still silence in your apartment. For a second you hope that it's Butcher returning your call, but when you lift the phone to your ear you realize that it's something much worse.

"Hello?"

"I need you." The familiar voice says.

Shit.

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

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The Two-Way Street: An II Character Discussion

With the end of Inanimate Insanity’s second season and the recent reveal that more is coming, I wanted to take the time to talk about an idea I’ve been brewing in my head for a little while now. Now that we’re free of the competition, the show is free to explore its characters more in depth. This means a lot for characters who have previously been shafted or simply unlucky enough to place low in the ranks of the show. While my focus today is on a fan-favorite, I feel as if they haven’t quite finished their arc yet.

Enter Yin-Yang.

Now, I really appreciate the strides Yin-Yang made in Inanimate Insanity Invitational, learning to work better together rather than constantly bicker. However, I can’t help but feel like their development is one-sided. After rewatching the entirety of the series twice now, I think I have my thoughts in order. While they do have an arc, it is more focused on Yang and his own arc of opening up and allowing himself to be more vulnerable, despite the multiple betrayals he’s faced with. Now, I do think this arc is important, but it leaves their character feeling incomplete. This feeling is only accentuated in their last episodes as a contestant, “Spring on the Breakfast” and “Blue Buried”. On both rewatches, I felt that the writers were setting something up for Yin-Yang, but ran out of time to explore the strain on their relationship. In the span of three episodes, Yin-Yang loses their mentor, is manipulated into spiraling, and seemingly resolves their conflict. Compared to the 14 episodes where Yin-Yang is featured, this feels like a total writing crunch.

When we last see Yin-Yang, at least in depth, he’s not exactly harmonious with himself. But this time, it’s not because of Yang, at least not intentionally. It’s because of Yin. 

But maybe that was the writer’s intention. Thus my idea. What if Yin and Yang are going to swap roles in the upcoming II content? Perhaps that wasn’t the end of Yin-Yang’s arc. Rather, it planted a seed. The seed of something that will bloom in whatever comes next.

What am I implying? Well, let’s look at what the symbol yin-yang means! Wikipedia notes Georges Oshawa’s The Unique Principle as saying yin-yang is “an opposite but interconnected, self-perpetuating cycle.” The two halves of yin and yang are designed to react to each other. One ebbs, the other flows. One rises, the other falls.

One improves, the other devolves.

Throughout season 3, we see signs of Yang becoming more capable of compromise and meaningful relationships, at least until Candle’s elimination. He’s more willing to work with Yin and open up about his feelings, even if in a non-direct way. However, we don’t see much development from Yin. The most we get is in “Pesty Besties”, when Yin admits to struggling to assert himself.

Yin: (...)I didn’t know how to put my foot down, and I yelled, and I’m bad. I can’t do anything without Yang.

Yin: (…)I didn’t know how good you were at being assertive. I’m glad you’re here for our balance!

While this is a step forward, I can’t help but feel this is a rather surface-level form of development, especially considering the archetype Yin fills: the nice one. I find that a lot of arcs involving nice characters involve them becoming more assertive. Hell, it can even be seen in II itself, with Suitcase’s arc in season 2 revolving around becoming more assertive. It feels repetitive. But maybe that’s the point. There’s something deeper than Yin needs to work on that he either doesn’t recognize or is unwilling to face. Maybe his arc is meant to move in opposition to Yang. While Yang becomes better, maybe Yin is supposed to get worse, or at least have his flaws become more prominent. After all, it’s easy to look like a saint when your other half is the devil.

 But one can argue that Yang is the worse half. Of course Yin would be harsher with him! His history alone has given Yin enough reason not to trust him, and I do agree with that! However, Yang’s arc throughout season 3 revolves around his relationship with Yin, with him even agreeing to treat Yin better, a promise he held by supporting Yin’s desire to become more assertive. Even with these improvements though, Yang is regularly spoken to like he’s a child.

It’s also notable that later in the same episode, when Yang creates a mountain of soda cans, he lists respect as one of his demands.

Yang: Dinosaurs! Explosions! And respect!

While one could dismiss this as a petulant demand among other sillier demands, I think this is a small choice made to uncover a deeper desire of Yang’s. Also note how he’s standing on a tower of soda cans. Earlier in the episode, he says this:

Yang: They don’t want us in their team leader club because we’re not nearly as tall as them!

After this complaint, Yang’s gripe is compounded by OJ’s response to him clearly moping.

OJ: Wanna go press the button?

(Note: this quote is said with the tone one would use when talking to a child, made more blatant by OJ saying this to a clearly upset Yang.)

When Yang is atop his tower, this exchange happens:

Yang: I demand you finally take me seriously, shorties!

OJ: This was every day, back at the hotel. I didn't listen to him then... I refuse to now.

Again, this could be dismissed as a gag poking fun at Yang, but his wording, compared with later evidence, makes me feel like Yang could have a legitimate complaint that he’s only able to express through “immature” means. Chances are, he lashes out because it’s the only way he can make the others listen to him.

Throughout the series, we see plenty of Yang’s flaws. He’s impulsive, temperamental, violent, self-absorbed, et cetera, et cetera. However, we’ve seen throughout season three Yang’s attempts at improving. Yes, he’s still flawed, but we see more sympathetic characteristics. He’s passionate, assertive, confident, and while he denies this, shockingly vulnerable and trusting.

So, knowing what we know about the philosophy of Yin-Yang, it would only be natural for Yin to experience the opposite. We already see seeds of this in Blue Buried.

But Yin is the good half, isn’t his job to be good? Wouldn’t him having bad qualities defeat his purpose?

Yes, but that’s the point! In Taoism, neither Yin nor Yang are pure. The dots in their forms are meant to represent this. There’s yin in yang, darkness in light, good in evil. Additionally, in the finale, the contestants are free to grow beyond the stereotypes they were coded to be. This doesn’t automatically mean that everyone will change for the better.

Back on topic, in Blue Buried, Yin accuses Yang of murdering Blueberry based on a valid, but poorly-worded, question.

Yang: Uh, just one question-- what if you... WERE... the murderer?

Yin: Yang, is there something you'd like to share with the class?

Considering Yang’s past, this is a reasonable conclusion to make, at least on the surface, but let’s look a bit deeper. Firstly, if Yang did kill Blueberry, wouldn’t Yin know? Sure, Yang could have used mindful positioning to take control and leave Yin in the dark, but Yin never brings up any evidence that he could’ve done this. He doesn’t mention losing control, blacking out, or even having a moment of forgetfulness. The only discussion we see between them is Yin lashing out at Yang and accusing him of being selfish.

Yin: You know what Yang? Normally I’d complain about you embarrassing me with your insensitive remarks.

Yang: Okay, be normal then, loser.

Yin: But I’m not going to. Because I’m done.

Yang: Done? What do you mean done?

Yin: We were making real progress with mindful positioning, but ever since Candle switched alliances, it’s been all Yang all the time! No wonder Goo doesn’t see us as a unit anymore!

Goo: Oh, I wasn't trying to imply that I-

Yang: You think I’m the murderer, don’t you?

Yin: Of course I don’t think that. I KNOW IT!

Secondly, after accusing Yang, Yin makes no attempt to find other clues. We only make the initial accusation, then submit that as his final vote in the final verdict, even intimidating Goo into agreeing with him.

Yin: It's Yang.

Walkie-Talkie: What makes you say that?

Yin: It’s Yang. Pretty open and shut case. Right Goo?

Goo: I’m scared what would happen if I didn’t agree so yes!

Note that this accusation happens with no evidence from Yin, even when pressed for his reasoning. Yes, Yang has a reputation, but the reaction shown in the episode shows the rest of the cast being clearly confused. Some of them have even seen what Yang is capable of, and they still seem questioning towards Yin’s accusation.

Even when Blueberry himself reveals that he set up his own murder, Yin doesn’t address that he was wrong.

Yang: I told you it wasn’t me.

Yin: So everything’s still all about you, huh?

Yang: I DESERVE TO BE ABLE TO CLEAR MY NAME!

Yin: “I?” “My?” So self-absorbed!

Instead, when Yang brings up that he was wrong, Yin deflects him, bringing up his selfishness again, despite it not being relevant to Yang’s point. Even when he tries bringing the topic back around, Yin deflects again. They’re only interrupted by noticing Blueberry implying he’s going to eliminate Cabby, a common ally.

This isn’t even the first time Yin pulls something like this. Back during A Kick in the Right Direction, after Yin eats Dough, this exchange happens.

Yang: Yin ate him!

Yin: You can’t be serious!

Yang: It couldn’t have been me, I’m gluten free!

Yin: Okay, I ate him. I was starving!

Yin backs down fast, but it can’t be ignored how his first instinct was to deflect blame, albeit in a less direct way. However, pairing this interaction with Yin’s behavior in Blue Buried, I can’t help but notice a concerning pattern. It shows that Yin is willing to scapegoat Yang, even when he has no evidence or knows Yang didn’t do anything.

Furthermore, the way Yin talks about Yang, particularly in season two, feels like he views Yang as a burden to bear rather than a complimentary half.

Yin: If I was not attached to Yang, I wouldn’t do anything wrong!

Yin: I can’t [stand Yang], but we need to be together! Someone has to control his anger!

Pair this with how Yang talks about being freed from Yin in the same episode.

Yang: You can’t tell me what to do! I’m independent now! I’m doing this challenge my way!

Yang: Well, it doesn’t matter what you think. I control my feelings now.

Now, what does that spell for the future? While in the end of the episode, Yin says they had a personal victory, this always rang hollow to me. It feels more like they pushed the argument out of the way to try and help Cabby. But what if this was a purposeful choice? What if the rift between the two hasn’t been fixed, but had a bandage put over it to be taken care of later?

When Yang is separated from Yin, one line always catches my attention.

Yang: Well, it doesn’t matter what you think. I control my feelings now.

Now, I find this interesting because throughout the series, Yang is very vocal about his feelings.Especially in season two, Yin doesn’t often say that Yang can’t feel things, letting him butt in when they speak. However, I did notice something else. He appears to hold physical control of the body.

While Yang is vocal about wanting to do certain things, he doesn’t seem to act on these urges often, instead resorting to just arguing with Yin about it. The instances where he does gain control, however, appear to be whenever he catches Yin off guard or is misleading him. For example…

Yang kicking the ball at their own goal (S2E5)

Yin’s response implies that Yin was not aware that they were kicking at their own goal, or was under the impression that Yang was misled.

Yang eating the pizza (S2E4)

Arguably Yang taking full control, as Yin should have been able to tell what he was about to do.

Yang picking up the bike to destroy the TV (S3E9)

Presumably, Yin allows this action, as he’s shown being more upset than Yang moments before.

Yang doesn’t know how to move Yin’s leg (S3E8)

If they’re conjoined and share the ability to move their body, shouldn’t Yang have known that Yin can’t move that leg very well?

Despite wanting to move in different directions, Yang is only able to move them to the left after punching Yin and presumably distracting him (S2E1)

Both their eyes were closed in this scene, so they may have both been disoriented

Pairing this with Yang’s demands to be respected, this is more of a minor point, but I felt it should be brought up regardless.

Now, don’t get me wrong.I don’t think Yin is evil or anything. I think that wouldn’t be a good direction for his character. What I do think is that Yin-Yang’s character arc is very unbalanced, and that it would be interesting to see Yin move in inverse to Yang. I think it would be interesting to see Yin at his worst, and for the two to reach a point of balance that involves participation from both parties. After all, connection is a two-way street.

——

Please forgive me if this is shitty, for one I’m trapped on iPad Hell and can’t format very well. Additionally, I just really wanted to get this out. I apologize if none of this makes sense, I tend to do better in chats haha…but thank you for reading!

[low-budget-korra]

We need to talk about The Last of Us S2

Because what the actual fuck?

Let’s break it down, because there’s just too much bad stuff to talk about.

1 - What’s the theme of this second season?

In the game, everything revolves around revenge and obsession. In the show…? Ellie watched her father get brutally murdered, and not long after, she’s all like 😃😄 as if nothing ever happened.

All signs point to the Nora scene being in the next episode. But what build-up have they given the audience to buy into what Ellie is capable of doing? None. In the game, that scene marks the peak of Ellie’s loss of humanity. In the show, it could serve as the starting point—but unless you buy into that psychologist’s take that Ellie is a sadist who was born bad and is beyond saving—there’s no setup, no groundwork that justifies Ellie torturing and killing Nora. In the previous episode, Ellie acted like she was on a romantic road trip, not a vengeance-fueled journey.

And part of this is why...

2 - Bella Ramsey is NOT the Ellie from Part II

I know her fans will hate me for this, but it’s the truth. And based on some of her comments about last episode’s, it’s pretty clear she doesn’t understand Ellie’s arc this season and is still acting like it’s S1 Ellie.

“But game Ellie also cracks jokes”—yeah, she does. But there’s an aura of melancholy, sadness, and grief around her.

A classic example is the Take On Me scene, where Ellie sings more to herself than to Dina, her voice cracking at times, feeling the weight of the lyrics. Sure, it’s still a romantic moment, but Ellie is different. Her jokes, her interactions with Dina, they’re not the same as they were before Joel’s death. There’s a heavy sorrow surrounding her.It’s not something she says like, “Wow, I’m so sad,” or “Damn, I’m pissed.” It’s something you feel just by looking at her.

And Bella isn’t good at conveying those subtleties, because she’s not a physically expressive actress. In the show, the Take On Me was just a straightforward romantic scene—there was no emotional layering at all.

And if it’s going to be hard to buy Ellie suddenly torturing Nora, it’s largely because Bella—not only misunderstanding the character— but also simply can’t portray those subtle feelings of grief, melancholy, and growing obsession. And s2 Ellie needed an actress who would nail that. I hate to say it but Kaitlyn Dever and Cailee Speaney do this pretty well. Sophie Thatcher too, as she says a lot only with her expression in Heretic

Oh and this doesn't make Bella a bad actress, she still young and can grow and get better.

3 - The show has no continuity

Especially with Ellie. They forget the show’s own canon. At the start, Ellie still acts like a 14-year-old pre-David-trauma, even though by the S1 finale, she was already a changed person.

Then Joel dies—we see how that affects her. Only for the show to pretend right after that nothing happened and she’s totally fine.

"But it’s been three months”—it could be three years and she still wouldn’t be over what happened. Trauma—especially something as intense as what Ellie experienced—doesn’t just vanish overnight. And anyone who thinks it does is lucky enough to have never lived through anything like it.

4 - Tommy? Jesse?

Especially Tommy wtf. Okayz makes sense in the canon on the show but still, it sucks he's not in Seattle

5 - Sadly, this poor work is going to be rewarded

It’s HBO, after all. It’ll get a ton of nominations and probably win a bunch. Game of Thrones, for example, won an Emmy for Best Drama for its worst season. And it’s really depressing, because it sucks to see poorly executed work get celebrated.

[trenchcoathunnybee08]

Can we talk about Matt saying “goddam it” after he hits Frank?

I saw someone point out that even though Matt curses pretty often (in the first episode of the original series he gets told to watch his language because he cursed in confusion) he never actually takes the lords name in vain.

Now I don’t actually know if that’s true (that he never took the name in vain) but for the connection I’m wanting to make I’m going say it’s one of only a hand full of times.

So far we’ve only seen Matt fight twice since Foggy died. Both times were only after he was provoked and with both his immediate reaction after is a mix of regret and frustration.

Matt blames himself for what happened to Foggy and that’s why he gave up the mask. That’s why he is leaning so heavily into the system that he once said was broken. He doesn’t believe that what he was doing was worth the price but he also can’t see past the need for someone to operate outside the law to do what the police can’t. He put away the mask because he doesn’t see it as a way of helping people anymore. Instead he’s ignoring why he became Daredevil in the first place and trying to do everything by the book no matter the cost. (As shown with Hectors case when he outed him as the White Tiger)

Matt justified it to Hector by using his own experience giving up the mask despite the fact we all know it was a lie. We’ve seen him be his biggest hypocrite before but this was one of the moments where it was just so obvious.

With that we’ve also seen Matt give up a lot of his faith. He couldn’t even bring himself to step inside the church. At the end of season 3 we see him to some extent reconcile with his faith coming to the conclusion that he won’t ever understand Gods full plan but he believes he plays a role in a much larger thing. He no longer feels like he is cast out and forsaken by God.

After Foggy’s death though we see Matt forsake himself rather than feel as though he has been forsaken. He doesn’t let himself enter the church, instead opting to treat the courtroom as his place of worship.

Why? Because he doesn’t believe he is worth being saved. He has fallen by his own accord and though he wares the mask of being well adjusted and having processed what happened he has done everything but.

When he says “goddam it” I don’t think it was only directed towards Frank but towards himself. He only says it after he hits Frank, a physical act of retaliation that has always been linked to his “darker half”. A part of himself that he has repressed in attempts of paying penance for Foggys death and his shortcomings in protecting those he loves.

He has dammed himself because 1) he doesn’t believe he is worthy of gods love because of his failures and 2) because there was once a time where he believed he and the Devil were one in the same meaning that to condemn his time as Daredevil is again to condemn himself.

People ask why Matt took the lords name in vain if he is Catholic. I say to you it is because he doesn’t believe himself worthy of it. He damms himself because why would someone still love him after everything he’s done? How could his god love him after destroying everything good he has ever been given?

Season 3 shows us a version of Matt who thinks God abandoned him because he deemed him unworthy of redemption.

Born Again is a near perfect mirror of this by giving us a version of Matt who chooses to abandon his faith because he deems himself unworthy of redemption.

He still wares his cross, he still stands outside the church. He still believes. The only difference this time that he thinks he’s the one who can’t be saved.

(Im actually losing my mind over this show. I can’t!!)