#I DO NOT CONDONE HOMIE

[jestinjoculators]

I made a lifesized cardboard cutout of Lee cuz funny and my roommate has punched and kicked him so hard the printer ink smeared and the cardboard split and I have to keep taping him back together he’s so crinkled his legs are so broken I feel like I have a dying man in my bedroom

anyway still figuring out how I want to draw these freaks

[emoisthenewemu]

Homie Hopper!

College MHA boys x f! reader!

In which after getting your little heart broken, you get passed around your local University’s hottest friend group! Everyone needs those slutty College years!

Smut Series! Pt 2 here

A/N: I would just like to make it clear that I do not condone some of the behaviors in this series! It is a bit problematic, but it is all just for funsies! Solely for entertainment purposes so just keep that in mind. Also i love sero can you tell. Anyways, enjoy!

Cw: SMUTTT!, lots of different kinks n stuff, sub! Denki, name calling, p in v, reader has female anatomy, reader essentially gets passed around

Katsuki Bakugo as The Shit Talker!

- Katsuki Bakugo is the one who started it all, your hot neighbor who threw parties your ex boyfriend never let you go to. Bakugo always gave you shit for it, saying you were ‘too young and pretty to be tied down’.

- As fucked up as it sounds, he gets excited one day when he spots you getting home super late one night in an oversized hoodie with mascara stained cheeks. And he considers just marching right across the hall when he notices you took all the posts and highlights of that fucker down on your insta.

- He’s even more excited when you finally show up to one of his parties. That is until you get wasted way too fast because you haven’t been out in years and end up crying over your shitty ex boyfriend.

- Katsuki Bakugo, who lets you make it up to him the next day by using you like a toy.

- Bakugo, who says the nastiest things when he’s deep inside of you.

“All my friends wanna fuck you, you know? But I get to go first”

“Can’t believe you were hiding this slutty pussy from us this long”

“Always knew you were a fucking slut”

“Your loser boyfriend ever fuck you like this?”

“Stop mph! fucking running from it!”

-He has your face pressed into the mattress, a hand on your head and one of his feet planted flat on the cushion. You’re drooling due to the way he drills into you, fucking you like he hates you.

- You guess you should have expected him to be so rough. Tough exterior and all but this is so much more than you could have ever imagined. He does not even give you a second to breathe, constantly snatching every bit of air from your lungs with each powerful thrust.

-His headboard bangs against the wall obnoxiously, he warns you not to hide your pretty little noises either or else says he’ll fuck them out of you. He even tells you to shut the fuck up when you whine about your neighbors-or Kiri.

-Katsuki Bakugo who has you in a headlock when you finally cum, back pressed tightly against his front as he thrusts up into you. His free hand pinching and rubbing your clit furiously. “Cum f'me pretty, then I can fill you up till it's coming out yer fucking mouth". His words are enough to make you gush around him, tight pussy squeezing him like a vice. But he’s not done talking shit yet, of course not.

"Better not waste a fuckin' drop. Maybe Kiri'll wanna fuck it back into you. He’s into nasty shit like that"

- Your cry out at his words, his finger remains at your clit but now rubbing at a much slower pace which ensures you let out small whines every few seconds. Still fucking into you so brutally your body begins to tremble. "You like that? Dirty fucking girl, want us to share this sloppy pussy?"

"Mm yes! P-please! Won't tell anyone" You nod frantically, a part of you so fucked out you are unaware of what you're saying. This is so unlike you, truly.

Bakugo's dick made you go dumb, fucking stupid actually. It sets the catalyst for a series of the most unhinged decisions of your life.

-It feels like little explosions eat up his entire body as his seed finally shoots inside you, there's so much it has already begun to leak out. "No, no, no! Keep it in there!" He slaps your ass and lets you finally fall back down into the mattress.

You're a crying mess, you don't even notice it. But he does, of course. Grabbing your (face) cheeks and squeezing with one hand. "Aw pretty girl, you cryin already?"

- Katsuki Bakugo, who is being a complete hypocrite, he's fucked out already too, fucking himself into overstimulation currently as he fucks his own cum back into you. "Such a crybaby. M'not even done with you yet"

Ejirou Kirishima as The Big Boy!

-Ejirou Kirishima-Katsuki’s roomate who invites you over to his parents house (who are out of town) so the two of you can ‘workout’ in their home gym. One month after what took place with his best friend.

-You can’t help but remember the blonde’s words, something about the red-haired man fucking his cum back into you. He wouldn’t, would he?

-He’s such a sweetheart! He opens and closes the car door for you, makes you a protein shake with his own recipe! Even brings you a little snack and tells you how pretty you look in your gym set! The man has even offered to take you and your roomate’s trash out before because ‘ladies shouldn’t be walking around by themselves at night’. He’s just such a gentleman, you can’t imagine him doing anything nasty in his life.

-Ejirou Kirishima who works out for all of about twelve minutes before lifting you up against the wall and gives you the most passionate and sensual make out session you have ever experienced.

-He moans against your lips sweetly, going down to kiss every inch of skin within reach.

-Ejirou Kirishima-who has the biggest, fattest cock you have ever seen in your life. It almost scares you because how the hell is that going to fit?!

He notices your worries, softly smooching the corner of your lips. “You can do it pretty girl, I know you can” His hand gropes your ass, a harsh contradiction to his sweet voice. “Bakugo says you’re a good girl, huh?”

-He manages to bully his fat member inside of you. The stretch is delicious yet painful. You squeal as he sinks deeper, nails digging into his bare shoulder.

“Shit baby you’re so tight for me” The man exhales loudly, hot breath hitting your bare skin. “Wanna hear you scream”

-Ejirou Kirishima, whose wish is answered when he finally picks up the pace. The ease in which he fucks you, holding your weight up entirely only adds to the experience.

-He’s just so strong and big. It makes your ankles cross and eyes roll to the back of your head. He’s so proud of it too-as he should be. He works very hard to maintain such a physique, he does it not only for himself but for pretty girls like you.

It’s obviously working, whimpers and whines escape your lips. Mouth stuck in a constant ’o’ shape and eyebrows furrowed. “S-so big! Fuck!” You cry, giving your very best attempt to bounce back on him. But it’s hard, almost every signal in your body is telling you to push away. It’s too much, the pain of his fat tip smushing against your walls. Yet another part deep within had you convinced that you can take it.

-You open your eyes to catch a glimpse of the sinful sight through the wall length mirror. His frame is so large you are hardly able to make yourself out, whole body covering yours. His back muscles on full display, you watch them move under his skin. The back of his bulging biceps accompanied by little grunts. “So strong Kiri ohmygodd! So good so good, so big!”

-“You like when i use you like a little dolly?” You nod, unable to speak even if you tried. “Love this big dick, huh?”

“Yes! Yes!” You are screaming at this point, in a way you have never done before. You had no idea this amount of pleasure was even possible. You should have been single a looong time ago. “Love it s’much!”

-“Cum on this dick gorgeous! Make a mess please!” He’s so cute, he still says please.

And you’re such a good girl that you just have to do what you’re told-juices gushing all over his abs and dripping down his thighs.

-Ejirou Kirishima who kisses the ache in your thighs before fucking you again in the hot tub. And then in his childhood bedroom.

Hanta Sero as The One Who Talks You Through It!

- Hanta Sero, who somehow becomes your smoking buddy after being paired up with you on a project. He was so funny and cute and you just had to get his snapchat!

-Hanta Sero, who knows his friends had already fucked you but doesn’t really care who came first or second. He just wants you…..bad.

- After a couple smoke sessions he decides to just go for it, glossy red eyes taking in your entire figure as he moves closer. Grabbing your chin and kissing you skillfully, tongue rolling against yours.

- Hanta Sero, who has you in his lap, chin resting on your shoulder with your legs spread wiiide. His legs trap you on either side so you are unable to move and squirm away the way your body tells you to. You have no choice but to take his long digits that are furiously fingering your cunt.

You’re a moaning mess, head thrown back against his chest as he coos in your ear, talking your head (more like pussy!) off. “Ahhh does it feel good mamas?”

Brushing a piece of hair out of your face he continues, strong thighs still keeping yours in place. “Such a pretty little princess pussy”

- Most moments you have no idea what he is even saying, every single one of his words goes straight down there. “So messy” His hand places a firm, wet smack! against your soaked core. “Hear how wet you are for me?” He continues to finger you, picking up the pace with an almost obnoxious squelching noise that accompanies his every move.

The vibrations of his movements shoot up your body, his fingers feel robotic with the way they do not falter. And then he starts curling them to brush against that sweet spot.

It’s not much longer after when you squirt all over his fingers and sheets with a loud cry. And he is sure to maintain eye contact when he brings his hand up to lick clean of all your juices, muttering something about how sweet you taste.

- Hanta Sero, who has you on your back a minute later-one hand on the headboard and the other keeps him steady as he pounds into you, lazy red eyes stuck on all of the faces you make. The way your titties bounce with his thrusts. You’re driving him crazy.

-“Fuck, Fuck princesa. You feel how deep I am?” You only nod, his long curved dick takes the words out of your mouth. “M’in your fuckin’ guts”

-He brings his body down to get closer to you, arms hooking beneath your shoulders to bring you closer to him. One of his hands pushes your head down to force you to watch his sloppy thrusts with the way he slams! you down on his cock.

-Hanta Sero who gets excited when you finally have the energy and brain capacity to talk, telling him all about how good he is. “So deep Hanta….can feel you in my tummy” You pout and it makes his dick twitch. You’re too fucking cute.

He almost regrets putting a condom on, he wishes he could feel the real thing. Make no mistake though, he is enjoying himself to the point where his toes begin to curl as he blabbers nonsense. “Taking it so good for me baby, such a good princess”

-His dick is firmly pressed against the spot you need it the most. You are unable to stop the squeals and whimpers coming from deep within, sloppily rocking your hips against him. He takes notice of this, locking his hips to continue to rub against the spongy walls that make you cry out like this. “Let it out mamas, wanna see you cum again”

- You don’t need much encouragement to coax the orgasm out of you-one that is mind-melting and makes your insides feel fuzzy. “Mm Hanta! Cumming f’you baby”

- Hanta Sero, who moans so loudly when he feels your walls spasming around him. He has to grab onto your hair for comfort-you’re practically choking his dick.

- Hanta Sero, who leans in close to whisper in your ear as you flutter around him. “Just like that baby” He kisses your cheek, a sweet gesture which is quite opposite to the mean snap of his hips. “Come on, come on give me more”.

- He’s practically snatching your soul out of your body, your mouth agape and wide as your body trembles, listening to his words. “Just a lil bit more mama, I know you can do it”

“C-cant!” You squeal but your legs betray you, locking themselves around his hips, he couldn’t move much even if he wanted to. So he uses the opportunity to do slow, exaggerated thrusts into you.

Tears prick your eyes as you do nothing but take it and whine. Hanta keeps on talking though. “Shhh it’s okay mamas….I know you can take it” And then he squishes your cute little face in his hand. “Right? You gonna take more f’me?”

-“Y-yeah”

- Hanta Sero, who is such a blabbermouth that you should not be surprised to find out how talkative he is during sex. Who continues to let you know you are welcome over any time and sends you the filthiest text messages. Ones you respond to with cute little emojis letting him know you’ll be on the way.

Denki Kaminari as ‘The Munch!’

- Denki Kaminari, who feels left out as he is the only one in the friend group who hasn’t fucked you! The other guys have nothing but good things to say about you and even still consider you to be a friend! So why can’t he have a taste? He’s the one who pointed you out to them in the first place!

- Denki Kaminari, who finds himself sitting next to you one night at a end of year party. The two of you being DD’s for the night, which means you are the only sober ones. And you talk for hours, seeing as you’ve known each other since freshman year and have remained relatively close since then. Which means he’s not afraid to ask.

“So what’s wrong with me?”

“Huh?”

“You fucked all my friends and not me? I’m hurt!” He sounds genuine, a hand placing itself atop his chest in offense. “Is it something I did?”

“Shut up!” You grumble, taking a hit off of his puff. “And no! Of course not!” You chuckle, blowing out the smoke directly in his face. “Just didn’t know you even thought of me that way”

- Denki Kaminari, who scoffs at your words. And here he was thinking it was obvious. Even back when you had a boyfriend he would always tell you that he could treat you better but you always thought he was joking! He was a jokester, that was like his thing!

- Denki Kaminari, who is deadly serious when he leans in closer to ensure you hear his every word perfectly.

“M’not hotheaded and ripped like Bakugo. Or big and strong like Kirishima. Or as tall as Sero or nearly as charming”

“You think Sero’s charming?” You laugh.

“Dude’s got game” Denki loves the way you giggle. “But I got something none of those fuckers do”

“Mm?” You raise an eyebrow curiously, a sweet smile on your face as you lean in closer. Lips mere inches away from him. “What’s that?”

“Promise my tongue is better than any of those assholes. Can make you see stars using just my mouth” He speaks so smugly, so confident.

It’s the most attractive he’s ever looked.

- You take him up on his offer, letting him lead you to an empty room upstairs where he doesn’t even wait for the door to click before smashing his lips against yours. Hungry hands grab at your waist and ass, then your tits and hair.

-Denki Kaminari, who keeps true to his word and has you seeing stars in a matter of minutes. Whose hands are holding yours as his face is nuzzled into your heat, breathing in your scent as his tongue works its magic Whose dick twitches every time you squeeze his hands and every time you try to let go he grabs it back, interlocking your fingers with his.

- His tongue swirls circles around your clit, causing your hips to bump up against his face-which makes him moan into your folds. Pulling apart for a second to admire the glossy mess before diving right back in

-Denki Kaminari, who is almost pathetic with the way he slurps you up like he is starving for your pussy. Constantly moaning into it as if he is getting any kind of relief out of it. Oh but he is, he could stay between your thighs for hours.

Whose skilled tongue somehow knows all the right places, eventually he has you rocking against his face as the only thing audible besides your loud desperate moans are the even more desperate slurps coming from him.

- He fucks you with his tongue until he is so deep that it makes him gag. But he does not stop, not even when his dick begins to ache from how hard it is. He fucks you with bis tongue until it hurts and you are a shaking mess, having finished three times already. No fingers involved.

-Denki Kaminari, who somehow convinces you to ride him into oblivion afterwards, shaky legs and all.

- His whines are so pathetic and hot that it unlocks something deep within you. A feeling you had never experienced before. Causing you to go rough on him, pulling his hair and whining when he begs you to do it harder! You aren’t sure who’s moaning more between the two of you.

- Denki Kaminari, who has shivers go up his spine whenever you dig your nails into his biceps, hips bouncing up and down as if your life depends on it. “Please scratch me up baby! Feels s’good”

- You even choke him a bit which is a thing you had never done before but just felt so right in the moment. The way he moans confirms that he enjoys it just as much as you did.

- When he cums, he cums hard, thick ropes spurting out into the condom as he moans freely. His hips rock up into you for more stimulation as he rides out his high.

“Oh shittt didn’t know you were such a freak Y/N!” Denji jokes, poking you in the side and you giggle.

He moans at the way you clench around him when you laugh. It makes him want to make you laugh more.

- Denki Kaminari, who showed you just how much you enjoy whiny subby men!

- And even to this day the whole friend group does a double take when you walk by, always offering to do stuff for you or hold open doors. (Except Bakugo of course). But they all make it more than obvious you are welcome into their beds anytime.

[requiesticat]

This is more of a personal thing, but I'm glad Homie is back. His art means a lot to me in general- I used to follow him on twitter when he was active there. At one point he made a poll asking for shows to watch, and I wanted to suggest Happy Sugar Life but was too shy to do so.

I don't condone some of the things Homie drew. That should go without saying, but I can't abide by public reactions, either. A few years ago, he was targeted with a callout because of it, got doxxed, and people celebrated mass-reporting his account. The author of the callout straight up admitted to exaggerating details just for that purpose. And I'm hesitant to bring this up at all, because I'd rather not draw attention to what happened, potentially inviting more harassment. I remember everything, but never said anything for those reasons. Now that Clinical Trial is developing a fanbase, however, people are bound to start talking about this again, spreading false information so... best to get the record straight.

For a long time, I've been worried about this. So, from an outsider's perspective, it makes me happy to see that he's uploading again, doing alright in general. I'd seen some of the short animations he created and was impressed by how fluid they turned out to be. Clinical Trial was great. The game approached delicate subject matter without glorifying anything, and handled that relatively well. I just hope everyone won't make a big deal about who its creator is.

[cinamun]

Y'all......

So remember how @nova-siims was like "Aye girl, wassup with the homie Sean?" <- And I was like "glad you asked because some shit done went down....."

Well... it gets even worse. I fell down a damn rabbit hole and I need y'alls help because I'm just over here like

So basically.... I decided to check in on bro because I don't appreciate all these extra shenanigans without my consent. I find him, chillin where I found him last time

and I decide to open up CAS and that's when I learned.... some shit

Bro... like? That's not even your BABY bro?

ITS A WHOLE NEWBORN SEAN LIKE??? When did you marry Sienna and when did the baby get here? DID SHE CHEAT ON YOU?

So now I need answers because I think she's lyin and we need a DNA test. Anyway, I decide I now gotta pull up

Y'all tell me why the baby is in the barn..?

And tell me why Sean is the happiest man in Chestnut Ridge not knowing this ain't his damn baby in the barn?

So I pull up his relationship panel just to confirm

Bruh... the newborn is just an acquaintance? Okay, bet. We bout to find this baby's daddy because I, The Watcher, do not condone these shenanigans.

We go ahead and age up baby Huy and

......... we all looking confused at this point and I got the same question mark on my forehead as baby Huy but I'm determined to find this baby's daddy ESPECIALLY since he has special needs. So we go ahead and up MCCCCCCCCCCC

AIGHT BOOM!! We're getting somewhere. Now I just have to find who the fuck Ku Kahale is. I go scrolling through the household bin. I don't see that last name, so I scroll again and STILL don't see it.

Y'all something told me to just look at the ancestors and

YALL!!!! Tell me WHY THIS IS AN ANCESTOR BABY!!?? HOW SWAY??? What am I supposed to do now? I can't delete the baby the ancestors will come for me. If I divorce them then the poor legless child will have to go to therapy and Sean will probably be cursed or some shit. But why is a SPIRITUAL BEING a deadbeat father???

I can't even play no more.

[hazestrenchcoat1997]

Well well well. Backkkk I've been exhausted cuz turns out exercising every day in an attempt to chase a more broad physique without eating more than I theoretically need to survive is quite exhausting. THIS IS /J BTW IT WAS A JOKE IN MY HOMIES GROUP I DO NOT CONDONE PICKMAN X LEO he be getting screwed by the Project tho alrite hehe

[letthemkook]

literally interruption my ex showed up to my apartment stood outside the door and refused to leave. I threatened a restraining order cuz I literally am tired of this man. am I insane or should I use this as fic inspo like period king tramatize me ur giving me so many ideas pooks. No but seriously im not romantiacizing this shit it would only be nice if it was jungkook doing it im ngl 😭 like it rlly goes to show this shit in real life is not actually as hot as in fanfics . And like homie ur literally a popular dude like girls always flirted with him when we’re in public like pls find some other woman and give me peace. He never cheated or anything crazy but like he was fanfic crazy. talm some , wdym you’re mad because I didn’t react the way you wanted when a girl dmed you or flirted with you, wtf was I supposed to do challenger her to a duel?? Soo disclaimer all of my stuff is obviously fiction and has warnings for a reason and I don’t condone this behavior irl.

[danica-shifting-blog]

shifting blog #3

So ive decided to bring back shifting to my life in small increments. I discovered i wanted to shift to be myself. As someone who lives in a very strict household my need changed to want to have fun, and to have andimportant purpose. That feels like thats a new healthy relationship to shifting rather than treating it like a lifeline or my lst hipe for happiness. I had to step away for 2 months to really just rest from it all.

The way i was also getting uncomfortable by a lot of the shifting community didnt help either. Shifting became a lifeline for so many people. Shifting consumed peoples lives and when i realized it consumed mine i got freaked out. It still makes me uncomfortable to be in the shifting community after seeing how people are now. It used to be really fun and now i dont know i dont think ill stay, and for those thinking "ha. Loser giving up" while you yourself didnt shift, i hope you do shift then. If thats what you want go for it this isnt what i want. Its uncomfortable and weird. Its weird how you think this is normal or should be normal or ok.

So. Since im leaving, im just going to unapologetically list everything im uncomfortable with.

- How some shifters acted like celebrities

- "Its your shifting dad astro"

- Convincing other shifters they're a loser for wanting to quit

- The walking dead shifters

- Shifting to be a kid to date a kid (I dont care if you're technically a kid in the dr, you are weird. and you know you are.)

- How we all just listened to every shifting advice and ran with it. Doesnt it scare you how we were all so desperate to leave?

- People who shift to be with villains/bullies.

- People who tell others if they dont script out xyz then they condone xyz.

- People who scripted they got s/a'd in their dr just to get hurt/comfort. You're also traumatizing yourself and your comfort character btw and ruining both of your mental health.

- People who thinks mean = funny

- The people that think they are stuck in this DR. Like for some reason that makes me uncomfortable. You're saying you are stuck as if you werent ment to be here. Like homie this is your home. You arent stuck here.

- The way theres a little voice in my head that says "Oh maybe this will help me shift" every time I declaire im done with shifting.

- The way i spent all day, 15 hours, on notion. This happened multiple times and i was at my worst.

- The way this unhealthy behavior is condoned.

- The way some people are with someone and then wanna permashift to be with another. At that point its cheating. Its cheating.

- How people tried to respawn.

You need a wake up call and realize the shifting community isnt ok. Its filled with a toxic spiritual relationship to shifting. Its not supposed to be this way. Its supposed to be fun. And everyone here is just miserable.

[ervotica]

sjm and jkr are similar in my brain, where i really only interact with the fan content because most of the fans know and are actively trying to correct the author’s mistakes/discrimination or speak out about it. i think it’s very possible to like the work for what it is and be critical of the author at the same time

yes definitely this. i haven’t really talked about sjm as a person at all on here but i do want it to be noted that i do NOT condone or endorse any of her shitty behaviour, i do this because i love the characters and the worlds she has built but that doesn’t excuse the things she has done irl. also fuck jkr. all the homies hate jkr

[jestinjoculators]

I’m a little nervous to post this as Clinical Trial is a somewhat controversial game for a few reasons. I originally hated it for a while, but now these two are stuck in my head and I can’t get them out…

If you like this, let me know and I’ll be happy to show you my other drawings…..he he….

[prythianpages]

4, 14 (if there are any), and 24

Also, I totally agree ab Elain and the Suriel love is absolutely - total homie right there and befriending mythical creatures never fails to make me feel warm and happy

Yes! I only wish we got to see a bit more of the Suriel 🖤

4. Do you have a favorite quote from one of the books?

I really love “to the stars who listen and the dreams that are answered.”

14. Favorite SJM Theory?

There’s a theory that Tamlin somehow saved Rhys’s sister and sent her somewhere else, linking it to why there’s a star pool in his court. It might be a stretch but like with many SJM stuff, I feel like there’s more to the story of her death and it’d be nice if this one were true 🥺

24. What’s a character you’d like to write for but haven’t yet?

Probably Tamlin. I think a lot about him and though I don’t condone the wrongs he’s done (esp since Rhys has also done some wrongs, still love him but idk how I felt about the pregnancy secret thing), I would like to see his redemption arc. Home boy is suffering too 😔 I hope he gets his happy ending eventually.

Based on this ask game.

[problematicfactive]

they even have factive,,, as a tag,,, I I'm under the assumption that your source is one of various murderers and just having your name doesn't hurt anyone unless the astronomically low likelihood that you join a server with a family member of a victim people are allowed to be uncomfy they have right to their emotions but it's incredibly shitty to make it your problem "proud" homie they're just existing

This is Anxiety's boyfriend. He's a little tired and I wanted to answer one. Hope you don't mind.

We do happen to be based on a murderer.

As the more source connected one, I want to clarify that real life people killing real life people is bad. I happen to be more like my source, thst doesn't mean I condone nonfiction murder.

One thing Anxiety wanted to touch on was victim mentality and I think this ask is a good place to mention it.

First and foremost. Anxietys bot doesn't have his full name, just his first name, whereas mine has my first and last name, so if we were in a server with a family member of a victim, they'd see a picture of a movie portrayal and my first name assuming it's my boyfriend talking (which it normally is) They would still have the right to be upset absolutely, especially if they recognize the portrayal, but I mean like

Before we formed, the system was also made uncomfortable by introjects of this person. We would never say to the face of someone anything like what that person has said to me, but, we are bodily within the minorities that were affected by this man. It can be a little scary.

I bring this up because, had, instead of saying the arguable entitled, "He makes me uncomfortable" the person would have said something along the lines of, "As someone who is POC, it makes uncomfortable" it would have made a lot more sense.

I can't assume anything for any of the three people who were rude to me today, I do not know their races, ages, sexual orientations, their families or anything that could possibly relate them to who my source is based on. What I do know is that they all felt like my presence was attacking them. They felt victimized by me (/my boyfriend). And not once did they give an actual valid reason for that. "He makes me uncomfortable" Talk about the victims. Talk about how your life was affected by being ____ in a post [insert person] world.

By complaining and making this about themselves, all these people are doing is taking attention AWAY from the actual victims and their families.

In my opinion at least.

-NPC

[nerdcrawfish]

Jumping off Shibara. (Also in writing this I'm going to be hounding women in the first part SOLELY because I'm writing from the predominate western society/US idea that there are two genders and that anything not man equals women. Which I don't agree with at all. I'm analyzing them, not condoning them.)

No, you can clearly tell with things like the "new" trilogy of Star Wars or Supernatural that this phenomenon is a thing with some male writers. The idea of non-males being in "nerdy" areas is uncomfortable for them because of numerous reasons. One, it stops just being "their" thing. Female fans especially are seen as lesser/"fans of poor quality materials". AND then the classic: "I don't know how to see women/non-men as equal human beings because I (imparted by society) have this idealized idea of women and them being in my nerdy stuff does NOT align with my mental schemata at all!" Ever played MTG as a non-male at a card shop? Yeah, you know what I'm talking about.

In general, there is discomfort at so many levels from not matching in schemata, to what defines women, to the idea that we're intruding in "their space", the idea of "biology", to even the idea that they have to act, write, and do things different because a women is around.

There's a shitton of baggage in society about women and non-males in nerdy spaces. It's waaayyy better now, but it still happens A LOT. It still is prevalent and it WILL be getting worse now that Diet Sunkist is in back in office and all the waves of social conservatism is going to be re-surging JUST like you got locked in an overflowing porta-potty and some asshole just ran into it with their double wide Texas Made Ford truck.

(Oh and I can and happily talk about the overlap of neo-nazism and online queer spaces and this need for conservatism and how that keeps translating over to over policing and fandom hate of queer stories in a moment). And yes a lot of authors hate our existence in "their" spaces just as much as their nerdy fanboys do.

Furman will ALWAYS be the classic example because he constantly refuses to allow the idea of female transformers. This is because he sees war fighting robots as only male. This harks back to the fact that the conversation of whether women can fight has it's root so far back in history, especially white history, because women are seen only as a resource to be kept and protected. (Hence the overturning of Roe V Wade and that awful man's "You don't have a choice!" video) And even if he keeps saying he sees them as nonbinary he is using male oriented schemata in his writing--he's using hegemonic markers of masculinity in his writing and the making of his Transformer Characters. He writes them so overwhelmingly male that you and I know--based on so many context clues and tells--that Optimus Prime is male. I very much doubt Furman does see them as non-binary (especially because I doubt he has any actual understanding of what that would even mean) and is instead trying to stay above fandom ire.

So Furman--overwhelmingly yes. He hates women being in his nerdy robot stuff. He loves our money and attention but just like Picasso, we're nothing more than some pretty fancy furniture that is pretty one moment and beyond infuriating the next with our "needs" and "equality".

BUT you're going to look me in the fucking eye and tell me ROBERTS is the same as Furman? HA.

No, MTMTE/LL is a fucking LOVE LETTER to the transformers community. He pointed at us--ALL OF US--and said: "This one goes out for my homies!"

But just like we talked about entitlement of authors? Oh there is a definite entitlement when it comes to fans, too. It was pungent as HELL when MTMTE/LL was running and it was why I always stayed off of social media and had so many people blocked. Like Shibara says: just because they wrote something that you don't like doesn't mean it's bad writing. IT ALSO doesn't mean it's an attack on you.

AND I will say that censorship/Neo-nazisim is RANK in this ideology. It festers uncontrollably in this shit swamp of a psychological lens. The ideology that someone is bad/attacking you because of what they write/create is based on two things: you belief in your superiority AND that it means that you thus get to dictate others around you. This ideology, however, gives little young knuckleheads the idea that they're the good guys and that there are bad guys that need to be hurt based on shit like a book. This is why censorship has, and always will (pick up any fucking history book please), lead to people dying.

It also has permeated its way into queer spaces online. It's a fucking fact. Look at the rates of young Polish voters--who in the same breath support queer rights but at the same time believe anyone who isn't "the right type of polish" (white) needs to be removed from the country. The day that Republicans realize if they accept queer rights that they will be able to win all the races and reinstall Jim Crow laws to the fucking max in the US is one I dread immensely. You can try to argue with me, sure, but it's one I've been tracking as a child and is why we are seeing so much support for nativist/neo-nazi groups across the Western Globe. Like, do we not recall the party gymnastics France had to do a little bit ago to avoid the hella RACIST National Party from getting so much leverage? Anyways, I digress.

Roberts wrote a piece of work that acknowledged the fact (like most of the IDW 2005 run did) that we are adults. Not like the stuff Hasbro always like to run--which is just some moving forms to elicit mediocre bonding in the wish to sell cheap pieces of plastic to little kids (which hey man, you do you). (Okayy, so I'm thinking more of the general we have to keep rebooting our lines every other week and that when it starts getting serious/the writers are flourishing, oh surprise! we're getting cut short!)

No, we're talking more like the TF Marvel Comics (oh yeah baby) especially the UK side of the house--this media was always for the more mature sets of the demographic/fans. More of your older kind of teen boy--but there's a huge difference in that from say rescue Bots (which cute but doesn't have the je ne sais quoi (<--sarcastic usage) of let's say the idea of Spiderman being disgusted with Ratchet because Ratchet didn't cry over his friends being torn apart. This requires a difference of thinking and isn't a stereotypical "good ending". It's meant to invoke a sense of defeat and that shitty feeling of being misunderstood. Like we KNOW Ratchet is a great guy and that his buddies are fine because he's a medic and will just fix them up. BUT Spiderman, another fantastic guy, isn't aware of that and hates Ratchet nonetheless! It's meant to make you not feel good but provides a delicious depth of things like perceptions and not taking time to actually connect with and understand others.

So Roberts was writing not to the original demographic of the G1 Cartoon but to those us who grew up with it. To the ones of us who grew up reading and watching the original runs of so much Transformers material. And, brilliantly, I would add, acknowledged the fact that a lot of fandoms are indeed filled with, like said before, 20+ women.

He wrote MTMTE/LL with the target demographic of adults. Now, we usually associate that with age but in my time in college, working part-time and being amongst y'all--I've learned that you can be 67 and still be an immature stupid piece of shit who got their High School degree as a participation award.

Knowing that, I am arguing he put in a BIG FUCKING NOTICE that "Hey, this isn't G1 cartoon transformers! If you're here for that TURN BACK" with the fact that Ratchet is introduced literally doing an autopsy. And in order to do an autopsy--someone needs to be dead. Whirl is desecrating fucking corpses. And by the end, 40 plus bots are falling like meteors burning up in the fucking atmosphere of a planet. Oh and the entire playback message of: "Oh my primus everything is horrible and terrible-- we fucked up--STOP THE LAUNCH"

Roberts explicitly--so fucking explicitly that even if you have the reading comprehension of a peanut--you would understand just from Issue 1 that bots were going to die, the story is going to be dark, and be just how like my life motto goes: "Life is short, painful and shitty and those who don't deserve to suffer or die always end up doing just that. So let's fucking go." (said with a morbid sense of optimism! :D )

He wrote for us, as adults. And as an adult, he talked to us as an adult. He broached topics that hurt--a lot. And he was happy to see when we hurt because that meant he did his fucking job well.

Every time you feel nothing about a death in a story--that means the writer fucking sucked. Every time I write a fanfic and I have people screaming in my comments--it gives me delight BECAUSE that means I successfully got you to connect. I gave you all the right tells, I used the right structure, I used the right language and every FUCKING THING in my arsenal as a writer to share the beautiful pain that I went through in thinking up this story.

Just like he was, I'm beyond delighted because we're essentially bonding. I'm sharing my brain's secretions that have both delighted and tormented me for months going on years with you and you're feeling the same things. You're fucking feeling. My story isn't just some shitty words on a page--no it's a fucking story.

Roberts told us a story. He sat us down and told us a story. As equals.

And the reason why AI will fucking NEVER live up to actual living creators is because it doesn't have anything to give. It doesn't have any ability to connect.

Furman sucks as a writer for us because he refuses to connect to us if we're not like him.

Roberts has and always will respect every single one of us and has always been a fan--just like us.

[exotidal]

#𝐄𝐗𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐋 — an independent, private original character; as created by mythe

a study on life and what constitutes it. on how much emotion can be simulated before it becomes real— on the lengths one might go for knowledge, and the lengths one might go to in order to ignore the truth. ( I think therefore I am… aren't I? ) [inspired by the idea of space mirroring the ocean, anglerfish & TMA's 'The Lure']

CARRD | BLOGROLL

PLEASE read the rules before interacting!

FOLLOWING & INTERACTING —      

IMPORTANT: if you interact with or are friends with Aloe (azizam/dhahabibi/basbousah/amanturine/dhabibi), please dni/block me. Her behavior is beyond reprehensible and I have no desire to be around her or people who excuse her attitudes and actions.

This blog is PRIVATE & MUTUALS-ONLY.

If I follow you, I want to write with you, but don’t feel obligated to follow back if you aren’t interested. If we’re mutuals but you show no interest in plotting/interacting (i.e. answering asks/threading), then I’ll probably softblock you. If I become the only one reaching out/attempting to plot, I’ll do the same.

I won’t follow back if you don’t have a rules/about page easily available.

For my own comfort, I WILL NOT be interacting with anyone under 21.

If you’re only following me to try and ship, I WILL know, and I won’t give you the option. Women-haters DNI.

I love other OCs but I’m extremely picky about ones I’ll interact with. I WILL NOT interact with OCs that are obviously just stand-ins/self-inserts/projections for the writer. I won’t interact with OCs whose backstories essentially outright break canon of any fandom they're written for/into.

Standard DNIs apply- no racists, homophobes, transphobes, incest shippers, etc.

(P.S. if I catch you diminishing/erasing a female character’s importance in a male character’s narrative for the sake of a ship, I’ll unfollow/block you. Miss me with that misogyny fam.)   

CONTENT & TAGGING —     

This blog WILL be 18+ and NSFW– with the nature of this particular muse, violence, gore and body horror situations are very likely to arise.

If any of these bother you, please don't feel obligated to stick around.

Any and all possibly triggering content will be tagged accordingly to the best of my ability. If you need something specific tagged, please let me know.   

SHIPPING —      

Chemistry will always be necessary to form any kind of ship.

If you’re interested a ship, let me know and we can talk to see if we can work something out. If I bring something up and you're not interested, just say so- sometimes ships just don't vibe.

(That said: flirting or flirtatious memes don’t really count toward this; those are just fun sometimes.)

I DO NOT insta-ship; any and all relationships on this blog will require communication, effort and development from BOTH PARTIES.

I may plot pre-established relationship dynamics with people I write with regularly/am friends with, but those are reserved for those I feel comfortable with.

If you lose interest in a ship, I’d appreciate if you let me know as soon as possible- I won't waste my time on feeding someone's ego.

If you refuse to reach out and communicate/expect me to do all the work after we decide to ship something, it WILL be dropped and I’ll likely block.

I WILL NOT ship with more than two versions of any canon character- I don't want anyone feeling like part of a 'collection'.   

DRAMA & HATE —      

If I see someone bringing needless amounts of drama onto my dash/my DMs, I will block immediately. I don’t condone the rpc’s current trend of so-called ‘call-outs’ so keep it to yourself unless there’s a real problem.

If you have a genuine issue with me please speak to me privately. If you really don’t like me, then block me. Curate your own space homie.

[plague-of-nice]

Thinking about how I probably have one of the worst taste in friend f/os ever

[daddymaster21]

Oooh this is the chapter where they first have a half-reasonable conversation!! I’m sat 🧎

1. If Frenchie can smell it, there a fucking problem

2. She’s stronger than me fr. The smell of rotten meat makes me want to dissect myself

3. The running tally is HILARIOUS. I love them

4. Past the groceries thing, I would be GREAT at psychological warfare. The hyper vigilance really helps with it

5. Everyone being sick of their shit IMMEDIATELY lmao

6. NO OMG NOT THE PAPER TOWELS EWWWWWW

7. Just to be clear, I do not condone killing children. But he does kinda have a point

8. In his defense, I’ve probably also yelled at a microwave at some point or another

9. Frenchie continues to be The Best

10. Unfortunately the Blank Stare is usually the best indicator of disaster

11. Real. Being hated by someone you hate is super easy and cool. Being hated by everyone else SUCKS.

12. Hi, yes, this is called dissociation. It makes the world fake and far away

13. See, the problem is that she agrees that she’s a problem

14. Clothes hate to see her coming

15. Hughie, babe, you gotta learn to be a little more cynical. MM is NOT a good judge of things being fine

16. Butcher takes accountability challenge: impossible

17. Literally everyone here but her and Ben are. So stupid.

18. Like he’s not good at trauma, but seriously guys. Throwing something at her??? You gotta be smarter than that

19. Girlie, I don’t know how to tell you this, but you also have ptsd. It’s just. Not from war

20. I mean. A selfish reason for sure, but I wouldn’t say no

21. ALL MY HOMIES LOVE MAEVE 🙌

22. The deep is. Disgusting

23. Growth!!! Trauma brings us together

24. Needlessly warm showers are essential to the brain

Final thoughts: we love to see the wives making progress

Chapter 3 - You've Torn Your Dress

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: This one's the first of many doozies. I recommend you clock out now if you think the following will distress you: mentions of rape, but no scenes or explicit description. If not, read on! Chapter Title is from Rebel Rebel by David Bowie.

Word Count: 7.7k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Your first mission is delivered, and it goes about as expected. Contains usual tags, emphasis on mention of rape/non-con.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, angst

Read on A03!

Chapter 2 - Chapter 4

Want to be tagged? Just ask!

When your team stepped into the safe house, you could see the moment the smell hit their noses.

“Merde,” Frenchie was the first to speak, a poor omen within itself. “What the fuck am I smelling?”

“Uh, probably the milk and meat. They’re the strongest.”

Annie said your name carefully, watching your reaction as she spoke. “What happened.”

“He wouldn’t put away the groceries.” You said with a shrug. You were over it. It was like, ten bad things ago.

“So you just. Left them out?” Hughie said, seemingly baffled.

“Yeah.”

“Mallory said she delivered them on the first night.” Annie glanced between you and Hughie.

“She did.”

Hughie’s eyes widened further. “That was almost two weeks ago.” When you just nodded in agreement, he pushed further. “They’ve been out the whole time?”

You frowned. “He doesn’t get to win.”

“What are you, five?” 

You just sighed, giving Hughie a pleading look. “Don’t tell MM.”

“What?” Butcher taunted from the back of the group. “That he was right, and you can’t handle Soldier Boy?”

“I thought you were on my side about this.”

“I’m on the side of the truth, Love.”

Both you, Annie, and Frenchie let out huffs of amusement at that claim, with Hughie looking sheepishly amused.

“You can’t possibly believe that.” Annie gave Butcher a pointed look. He only winked in response, leaving her to turn back to you with an eye roll.

“Has it been like this,” Hughie gestured vaguely around him. “The whole time?”

“Nah. Worse.”

Really, hell would be a better word for it. After the knife incident, there had been the toilet paper incident, which you had won, the coffee incident, also your victory, the laundry incident, point Soldier Boy, the TV incident, point you, and the Lord of the Rings incident, another point Soldier Boy. The Elton John, Jimmy Carter, and Rockefeller Center incidents had ended in stalemates akin to the Cold War, but should those fuses reignite, you were sure you could take them home. Overall, you’d burned him seven times, he’d thrown two chairs at you, you tossed shit in his face once and threatened castration on fifteen separate occasions, and he had offered to sleep with you thirty-one times.

“He hasn’t, he hasn’t hurt you. Right?” Hughie wasn’t fully looking at you when he asked, his voice soft and nervous.

“No. I mean, he’s tried. Not in… that way, but I’ve had a few things thrown at me. All the physical violence died out around the laundry incident, though. Now we’re using psychological warfare.”

“Laundry incident?” Hughie said at the same time that Frenchie said, “Psychological warfare?”

“Don’t ask.” Was your response to both. You’d avoid revisiting the laundry incident in your mind for the rest of your life if you could help it, and the actual practice of your warfare was more childish than you’d like to admit.

“Well, as lovely as a reunion this has been, we need to talk to you both. Where’s the cunt,  anyway?" Butcher craned his neck to look down the hall.

“Probably moping around in his room.” You shrugged. “Let’s talk in the living room, standing at the door is weird.”

While the living room hadn’t taken even close to as much damage as the kitchen, it had not escaped you and Soldier Boy’s sparring unscathed. Books provided by the CIA, which were mostly stereotypical classics, had been upended from their shelves and strewn across the floor. The TV was still intact, as was the sofa, but the former was stuck on PBS, and the latter was, at this point, compromised of 70% trash.

“Holy shit,” Hughie muttered as he stepped over a copy of Catcher in the Rye. “You can’t plan on living like this the whole time?”

“Well, if America’s number one man-baby would stop moaning and bitching about his glory days, then maybe, yeah.”

Annie gave you a concerned look. “And if he doesn’t?”

“Then I’ll castrate him.” Though the threat had now been made sixteen times, it never satisfied you less to say it.

“I’ve told you, Sunshine, if you did that, you would only be hurting yourself.”

Everyone in the room fell silent, their eyes trained over you with tense gazes. You turned to find Soldier Boy almost directly behind you. “I’ve told you, by definition, I’d only be hurting you.”

He gave a mocking pout. “Wouldn’t that plague your perfect little conscious?”

“I’d live.”

“Bitch.”

“Cunt.”

“Prude.”

“Manwhore.”

“Whiny Brat.”

“Waste of space.”

“Waste of good pussy.”

“Waste of government money.”

“Waste of Compound V.”

“Pathetic, assfaced Dickwad.”

“Stuck up, pretentious Ice Queen.”

“Geriatric, entitled, blue-balled G.I. Joe Fuckdoll”

The room had practically vanished around you as you and Soldier Boy fell into your now well-tread path of insults. Your blood was burning with that feeling, aching to burst across the room as both of you glared hard enough to, fingers crossed, kill the other.

“Jesus Christ,” Hughie said, breaking you out of your own spell.

“What are they doing here?” Soilder Boy asked, somehow having only just clocked their presence. “Do I finally get to do my job and leave?”

“No,” Annie answered. “We have no way of knowing how long you’ll be here at this point.”

“That’s what I said,” you muttered under your breath, turning back to your team.

“Yeah,” Soldier Boy said at full volume. “And I don’t fucking trust you.”

“Will you get off my ass about it now?”

“I think you like me on your ass, Sunshine. My offer never leaves the table.”

“Cunt.”

“Bitch.”

“Helpless man-child.”

“Prissy tease.”

“Glorified propaganda poster-“

“No,” Annie cut it. “We’re not doing that again.”

“Party pooper,” Butcher grumbled. “I was hoping they’d kill each other this time. Then we could just go home.”

“Well, did you at least bring me drugs?” Soldier Boy seemed to search the room, as if a pile of weed and coke would miraculously appear on the floor amongst the mess of wrappers and fluid-filled paper towels.

“We’re not buying you drugs with government money.” Annie said, giving you a look of apology. “As I’m sure you’ve been told.”

“Many times,” you affirm under your breath. You’d had to hide the glue on day five, which had let to the toilet paper incident on day six. A day had not passed since where you didn’t catch him trying to turn a new household object into something to snort.

“I thought weed was fucking legal now.” Soldier Boy glared at you, as if you were personally responsible for the CIA not buying him blunts. “It’s a free fucking country. I should be able to smoke whenever I damn please.”

“Porn is legal,” you reply. “Doesn’t mean the federal government is going to bring you some.”

“If they brought me porn and weed, I’d be far more open to whatever shit you want from me.” He winked at you.

“We gave you that last time,” Hughie pointed out, shifting nervously. “It barely helped.”

“Will you be a good little supe if we come back with porn and weed? Because we can go and-“

“No, we need to do this now.” Annie spoke over Butcher, and you noticed a line of worry on her forehead, along with Hughie’s nervous fidgeting. Though Butcher didn’t seem plagued by an anxious tell, he relented to Annie faster than you’d ever seen, and alarm bells went off in your head.

“Annie,” you bit the bullet, asking softly. “What is the ‘this’ you need us for?”

She gave you an apologetic look. “Trial run.”

“Trial run?”

“We’re giving you a test, Love.” Butcher said with a smirk. “See if your little experiment is even viable. Maybe take out a player in the process. All depends on if you and him,” he jerked his head to Soldier Boy. “Do your jobs right.”

“I don’t need your little ‘test’ to know if I can do my job.” Soldier Boy snapped.

“Last time you failed,” Hughie muttered.

Frenchie nodded in agreement. “In a spectacular manner, yes.”

“Because that bitch and that pussy stopped me.” An angry scowl was thrown at Annie and Butcher, who returned it and grinned widely back respectively.

“You were going to kill a kid,” Annie said coldly.

“He shouldn’t have been in the line of fire.”

“The line of fire? Do you hear yourself? Do you really care about others so little that-“

“I’d do it again,” he snapped back, unbothered by Annie’s disgust. “You don’t get to ask me for help and get mad when I do.”

You gave Butcher a pointed look. “Aren’t you glad you listened to me?”

Though all you got in response was a grunt from Butcher, Soldier Boy’s eyes shot to you. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

You returned his glare, steeling your own eyes to match his interrogating gaze. “We’re removing the ‘kill a kid’ option from your choices. You want to know why we’re stuck here? Because you fucked it last time, and we won’t let you fuck up again.”

“You won’t let me?” He sneered, leering at you coldly. “You don’t let me do anything, Sunshine.”

If the “Sunshine” thing continued to stick, you might have to throw yourself off a roof. But you didn’t flinch, just tilting your head mockingly. “You wouldn’t need a shock collar if you hadn’t bit the hand.”

“I wouldn’t bite the hand if it hadn’t tried to kill me.”

“Nobody tried to kill you, Mate.” Butcher interjected. Soldier Boy’s anger switched back to him with fists curling at his side, but Butcher kept talking with a bored drawl. “You shouldn’t have bloody fucked up.”

“And, like I said,” you shrugged. “It won’t happen again.”

“If I see the shot, I’ll take it. Whether you like it or not.”

Looking into his eyes, you believed him. No doubt fogged your brain that, given the opportunity, Soldier Boy wouldn’t hesitate to take out Ryan Butcher with Homelander. Part of you, the angry and bitter part still trapped underground, understood that. But you’d see Ryan once, from afar, and he had looked so young. You didn’t have to imagine his fear or touch him to understand what it was like. For your life to change abruptly and without reason, to have to sprint to keep up with your new one. Soldier Boy had volunteered for this life. Ryan hadn’t. You hadn’t.

So, holding Soldier Boy’s gaze, you made your voice clear and steady. “You don’t get to take the shot until it’s clear. Ryan will be out of the picture before you even see Homelander.” You turned to Annie. “What’s the test?”

“Head-popper.” Butcher answered for Annie with an odd look at you. His voice carried the usual light and oddly joyful tone he used when discussing murdering supes, but his eyes on yours were quieter, with less manic vengeance than you’d seen before. If you didn’t know better, you’d call them thankful.

“Head-popper?”

Hughie jumped in at your confused frown. “Neuman.”

“Oh,” you paused, looking over Hughie’s worried face. “We’re going after Neuman?”

“Who the fuck is Neuman?” Soldier Boy asked with a reluctant grumble. You had picked up on his consistent annoyance with new things after you’d found him screaming at the microwave three days ago, and not knowing new people didn’t seem to be any different.

“She’s a supe who can pop people’s heads like balloons.” Frenchie gestured in imitation for effect. “It’s disgusting.”

“And she’s the VP elect, which would put an ally of Homelander in the White House, one step from the Oval Office.” Annie said pointedly, giving Frenchie a look. You offered him a small smile over her head. Though the demonstration hadn’t been helpful, watching his hands fly around mimicking Neuman’s powers was undeniably entertaining.

“She's dangerous,” Hughie added. “But she’s not a bad person. We don’t want to kill her, just remove her powers.”

“What do we need her for then?” You didn’t have to look to know Soldier Boy’s accusation was directed at you. You bit your tongue, trying to ignore the way the words seeped into your skin.

Because he’s right. A cruel whisper said into your ear, and the itch on your skin began to feel like a rash. You were saved from the plague of your thoughts—the urgent feeling to fall prompted by almost nothing—by Butcher.

“If you think you’re going anywhere without her, Governor, you’d better get used to being wrong. She’s there for the same reason she’s here. So you don’t go postal.”

Soldier Boy gave you an unreadable look as the rush of your heart in your chest slowed from Butcher’s words. You turned away from him, but you could almost feel his eyes through your skull as you looked at Butcher with a blank face.

“What’s the plan?” You asked, praying it would be simple, with as few people as possible around and, ideally, in the middle of a desert filled exclusively with fire extinguishers.

“MM and Kimiko are doing recon on one of Bob Singer’s rallies. Frenchie will create a distraction for the secret service, and Neuman’s personal detail is going to suddenly disappear-“

“Disappear?” You interrupted Butcher with raised eyebrows.

“Keep your panties on, they’ve been bribed. Once she’s isolated, Soldier Boy’ll blast her, and we can all go home confident in your little gambit.”

You hesitated, trying to imagine the last political rally you’d seen. Group of people in tight groups, electrical wiring for microphones, speakers, and lights. Gates and closed doors, hallways leading out onto streets. “How are we going to isolate her?”

“Me and Butcher will work on that,” Annie said, almost reaching for you with a reassuring pat, but thinking better and jerking her arm back. She opened her mouth, an apology certainly on her, but you raised your hand to cut her off.

“How long until we leave?” You asked. Maybe they’d say ‘three hours’ and you’d get to talk to someone who didn’t think swing music was sonically viable for a bit.

Hughie checked his watch. “Ten minutes ago.”

“Ago?” Your eyes widened.

He gave you a sheepish look. “We thought it would take less time to get you.” He turned to Soldier Boy. “Your suit’s in the van. I can bring it out-“

“I can change on the way.” Soldier Boy grumbled, ignoring Hughie’s start of sputtering protests. “Let’s get this over with.”

———-

Much to his annoyance, they had forgotten Ben’s shield, and nobody would let him change in the van. He tried several times, only to be met by a chorus of groans, shouting, and swearing. He had listened to their complaints only because she had started giving him a look he recognized as a flag for a storm of uncontrolled fire. No hot disgust or sparks of rage, only a cold and quiet, almost glassy-eyed stare. Her heart steady but her breathing too fucking controlled to be natural, measured so equally that it sounded mechanical. So, because he figured she would only become more bitchy to live with if she incinerated her alleged “friends”, Ben stopped trying to pull his shirt over his head.

Once he did, the van fell insufferably silent. The edged pleasantries and conversation he’d overheard during Butcher and his band of Assholes arrival had ceased save for tense questions and hushed conversations. Ben didn’t fail to notice all the spineless avoidance and careful words directed at them both. She, even after the foggy look faded, remained curled into a corner, trading small and toothless smiles with her team. More timid than he’d seen her before, almost like a scolded child as she looked around the van nervously. Her eyes watched the shadows as though Homelander himself might jump from them, the chew of her lip giving Ben a headache. The only words she spoke were a jab at Ben when he’d said something about political rallies post-election being fucking pathetic—giving him a lecture about American politics now heavily depending on something called “going viral”—only to fall silent once more after. Her team looked at her like a glass bomb, as if she was a delicate statue looming over their heads and not the vulgar, violent woman who slept down the hall from him. That woman infuriated him, testing his patience every time she opened her mouth, but this paranoid, skittish pussy of a girl was so much worse. So when the van halted and Butcher’s team began to filter out, he called her name. When she ignored him, he reached out and grabbed her arm.

“What the fuck!” She pulled herself out of his grip in a second, staring at him with anger. She glanced down at her arms, a look he didn’t understand crossing her face, before returning her attention to him. “Do not touch me.”

“I barely touched you,” he glowered, annoyance quickly flooding him. He had only brushed skin, with a light grip she had thrown off, there was no need to be so dramatic. “When I touch you for real, you’ll fucking know, Sunshine. And you’ll fucking beg for it. I needed to make you listen, you were fucking ignoring me.”

Her brows knit, and he heard the chew of her teeth on her tongue. “I’m not going to beg for anything, and I wasn’t ignoring you.”

“I said your name, and you kept fucking walking.”

“I didn’t hear you.” She snapped, but didn’t relent. “Speak up next time.”

She knew just as well as Ben did that they were both far from quiet, pussy-voiced fuckers. And while he definitely hadn’t yelled for her attention, it shouldn’t have fucking mattered. He’d seen her pick up his grumbled insults and mocking comments just fine over the past two weeks. “Bitch.”

“What do you want?” She asked with a sigh, ignoring his jab and looking at him as if he exhausted her just by breathing. “We have to go, and you still need to change.”

“You shouldn’t let them treat you like that.” He said, not hiding the contempt from his voice. He wasn’t going to skirt around his thoughts, lining them gently to help her fucking feelings.

Her body tensed, her limbs looking as if they’d locked into place. “Like what?” Ben heard her swallow as she answered, her voice not lost enough to make her sound clueless to his words.

“Like you’re a child they have to coddle. A problem they have to deal with.”

She stared at him, her glassy-eyes returning. “Shut up. You don’t know what you’re fucking talking about, cunt-face.”

Ben snorted. “They don’t treat you like the bitch you are. They always use that sweet, pussy voice, like they’re talking to a fucking puppy, when they say something to you. They’re always all fucking pouty when they look at you, pussyfooting around so they don’t make you sad.” He gave her a mocking grin, hoping the next words landed like a bullet. “They treat you like me.”

It had clearly worked, as the van had grown hot, and her eyes were clearing as her heart began to pick up. Ben felt an odd feeling cover him as he heard it, almost familiar and sparking pride in his chest. She wasn’t a jittery shell anymore, she was going to try and kill him. It made his grin grow genuine, and the van grew only more heated, the air waving around them.

Her mouth opened, and Ben hoped whatever came out of it would be vile and crude.

“Hey!” She turned her head and clenched her jaw as someone called her name from outside, the van rattling as a fist banged against it. “We need to go!”

The door opened to reveal the Cocksucker, whose face grew quickly red, a bead of sweat falling from his hairline, as he was blasted with a quickly dying wave of heat.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, turning from Ben as the heat dropped further. “Coming.”

Cocksucker gave her a worried look, his gaze flying quickly to Ben, but just nodded and stood aside for her to move past.

As the door closed and Ben began to change, he listened for their soft, tense words.

“Are you okay? Did he do anything to you?” Cocksucker’s voice was nervous and gentle, like being suffocated by one of those fucking fluffy blankets Ben had seen in the empty bedroom of the safe house.

“No, he just grabbed me to talk. And you don’t have to keep asking me that. I’m fine, and it’s not as helpful as you think it is.” Ben frowned at her voice, the malice from it drained entirely in only a few seconds, replaced with only a tired hollowness.

“Grabbed you?! Like, he touched you?”

Having anticipated Cocksucker being more interested in the “talk” part of her sentence, or the shit that sounded like it was about feelings, Ben's brain rattled over Cocksucker’s word, his tone of panic looping in Ben’s head. He spoke of Ben’s touch as though it were a plague, and not something many people would kill to feel. Ben almost burst out of the van to say just that, but froze when he heard her answer.

“It was fast, I didn’t feel much. Even if I did, it doesn’t matter. I can’t go the rest of my life without touching people.” Her voice had a finality to it, and Ben could almost picture her downturned lips and wrinkled brow.

“You touch us when you heal us.” Even Cocksucker’s voice didn’t sound sure of his response.

“It’s not the same, and you know that.”

There was a momentary stall in their words, and Ben took the opportunity to emerge, securing his belt as he walked to the door. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected to see, but Cocksucker looking pathetically around, anywhere but the woman as she curved into herself, wasn’t it. She held a white-knuckle grip on the sleeves of her jacket, her thumb running up and down in small movements. They both turned to him as the door banged open, and Ben caught the empty look behind her eyes before her indifference slipped back into place.

“Did you hurry me just to sit around like pussies, or are we going to start fucking moving?” He asked, the air feeling too uncomfortable to sit in.

Cocksucker blinked, glancing at his watch. “We have a few minutes until they arrive, but I guess it can’t hurt to be vigilant-“

“Arrive?” The woman’s eyes widened, and Ben saw smoke curl from her hold on her jacket. “They’re coming here?”

Cocksucker nodded. “It’s a high-security escape exit-“

“It’s a fucking street, Hughie.”

“That’s used as a high-security escape exit.” After a moment of searching the area, Cocksucker pointed a few yards down, at a large door set against brick. “Neuman will come right out of there, and her guards will close her out here, where Soldier Boy will blast her.” He paused, glancing at Ben, before looking back at the door and taking small, cowardly steps away from his spot between them.

“It’s a public area, anyone could walk past! What the fuck were you thinking?!” Her voice was hushed and agitated, and Ben had never seen her face lose color at that speed before, had never heard her heart stutter and jump as if trying to escape her body.

“It’ll be fine,” Cocksucker’s voice wavered, giving them both a nervous look. “It should be fine. MM said it would be fine.”

“You heard him, Sunshine,” Ben gave her a wink, adding a half-cocked smile when she didn’t even return him with a dirty look. “MM said it would be fine. And have some fucking faith in me, I’m not a fucking monster. I won’t blast any running pussies except for this head-popper broad.”

“You don’t even know what she looks like.” Her tone wasn’t quite the vicious mockery he was used to, but it was better than the apathetic, empty voice she’d been using. She was rolling on the balls of her feet, speaking without looking at him, her eyes moving restlessly from the door to the end of the street. “And I don’t believe you.”

Ben just shrugged, allowing the silence to hang. The wind was picking up, whistling through the chill of winter air, making the heat around them, emitting from both Ben and the woman, all the more obvious. Despite the biting cold, Cocksucker had taken off his stupid puffy jacket, even stepping back further from where they stood, with Ben in the center of the street and the woman off to the left. Despite her slowly stepping further and further back, her back now almost against the wall, Ben could feel her watching him, hear her heart continue its new and erratic beat.

“How long now, Hughie?” Her voice was raised to carry over the wind, though it hadn’t lost that stupid fucking weakness. Cocksucker, thank fuck, didn’t get a chance to respond with pathetically comforting words, as only one skipping heartbeat after she spoke a shrill fire alarm sounded.

“I’m assuming that’s your stupid French fuck's plan?” Ben asked dryly. “Start a fucking fire? I thought you pussies were all about minimal damage.”

“He probably just pulled the alarm.” The Cocksucker’s answer lacked any confident assurance. “And I think we’re just against needless murder.”

Ben almost started to rant about their so-called needless murder being a mighty high horse for a group of people who had manipulated him just as much as Vought, who’d been willing to help him kill all those backstabbing pussies from Payback so he’d help them. About how their stupid fucking moral purity complex seemed to adjust perfectly to aid them, and maybe he wasn’t a fucking angel, but he was strong and powerful—something they fucking needed—man, and he wasn’t a pussyfaced liar about what he was, what he did. The words died on his tongue, though, as hundreds of frenzied footsteps reached his ears.

“Fuck!” he growled, turning around and pointing at Cocksucker. “You fucking pussy.”

Cocksucker gave him an idiotically confused stare. “Dude, uncalled for.”

“She,” Ben pointed to the woman, whose heart was beating impossibly fast and looking on with a bloodless face. “Was fucking right. This is a stupid plan, because unless your head-popper walks like a human centipede, it’s not going to be just her that I fucking hit when that door opens.”

Cocksucker only gaped at him like a fish as the footsteps grew louder, annoyingly unsure stutters  escaping him, and just as Ben decided it might be good to slap the idiot out of his daze, the woman stepped forward.

“We need to move, Hughie. Now.” Her voice wasn’t steady, her whole body was tensed and hyper, but it held a determination Ben almost admired. “We can’t be here.”

“He- he could be fucking lying, or wrong-“

“That’s not a risk we can afford to take.” She cut off Cocksucker’s doubts, and Ben found himself surprised at her defense of him, even if it could barely be called that. Her hands were smoking once more, but she had firmly planted herself in the middle of the road, eyes turning sharply to Ben. “If people see you, any element of surprise over Homelander would be lost. We need to fucking move, you need to get in the fucking van now-“

The door banged open, and the streets flooded as hoards of people in star and stripe-themed outfits flooded the road. Everything became so loud, and that rapt, snapping sound in Ben’s head started to spread through him, spurring the drum in his chest. They were finding rhythm so fast, everything fading as Ben tried to slow it. But there were screams and shouts, and everything was getting further and further away from him while carving into him all the same, so though Ben could hear the sounds of metal clanging and shouts of his supe name, he couldn’t think anything past the beat beat beat, until he lost it all at once.

As his vision grew clear with his head, Ben expected to see shattered bodies and bloody walls. Instead, all he saw was the woman and fire. Her face was flushed red, her eyes crazed, and her clothes had become charred with holes as the fire surged from her into a barrier, cutting them off from the crowd. Cocksucker was yelling her name, urging them both to return to the van and leave, but as Ben moved, he glanced back to see the woman frozen and heard her heart as if it were his own. The wall was growing wider and shooting high, Cocksucker wouldn’t shut the fuck up about moving, but her eyes had squeezed shut, unresponsive to anything but the growing flames.

“We need to fucking go, now!” Ben turned to see a large man he vaguely recognized barreling down their side of the street, his face twisted in anger. Butcher, Starlight, a small woman he remembered fighting, and that French prick followed him, all loading into the van as the large man stopped beside Cocksucker.

“I told you he’d fucking blow it,” the man said, giving Ben a disgusted look, so flawlessly revolted Ben wouldn’t be surprised if he’d fucking practiced in the mirror.

“Hey, I didn’t fucking blow it, you pussy-“

“You said that Neuman would come out of here, that it would just be her!” Cocksucker, much to Ben’s shock, cut him with a high voice and a wave at the wall of fire. “That’s way more than just her! Is she even there?!”

“No,” the man said gruffly. “Neuman saw Butcher and figured out something was up. She’s long gone.”

“Fuck!” Cocksucker yelled, running a hand through his hair.

“Oi, we can go over how MM fucked up later,” Butcher leaned out from the van. “We need to go before she sends Homelander.”

“How I fucked up? You’re the one who disobeyed me and blew our cover-“

“What’s wrong with Madame Anomaly?” The French Prick appeared at Butcher's side.

Cocksucker glanced at the woman, calling her name before turning to the large man Butcher had called MM. “She absorbed Soldier Boy’s blast. I think it got her stuck.”

“We don’t have time for this. Get Soldier Boy in the van, I’ll take care of the Anomaly.” MM repeated the French Prick’s words, and Ben realized they were, for the first time, using the woman’s supe name.

“You heard him, Gov. Get in the bloody van.” Butcher’s words were clearly directed at Ben, but as he climbed into the van Ben saw Butcher’s attention locked on the woman.

MM had moved closer to the woman, a move Ben deemed more fucking stupid than brave. If she had “absorbed his blast,” as Cocksucker said, he wouldn’t recommend any non-supe be anywhere near her. MM seemed to realize this himself at the last possible second, taking a pathetic, stumbling step back with a pause. He and Cocksucker exchanged a look, something passing between them that Ben didn’t understand, before Cocksucker leaned down to grab a pebble from the road. Ben watched as he shakily shook out his arms, wound up, and tossed the pebble at the woman.

It was a terrible fucking idea, Ben didn’t have to be Einstein to know that, but the chain reaction that played out still managed to go worse than he might have guessed.

The woman whirled around, her eyes blazing, with a roar sounding from her chest. Fire shot from the wall directly at Cocksucker. In almost slow motion, Ben watched her face become painted with horror as she recognized her target, a different, fearful sound leaving her. She reached an arm out, her heart seeming to falter, and barely redirected the flames before they hit Cocksucker in the chest. The blaze just grazed Cocksucker’s arm, passed the van clear of anyone else, and hit the building with a boom.

The moment the bricks caught fire and the ground began to shake as the building crumbled, the woman's wall of fire fell. The woman herself remained upright, but only barely as MM shouted her name and she started to stumble to the van. Cocksucker was hauled in by Starlight and the French Prick, the former fussing over his burnt arm—Ben had seen worse at Herogasm and nobody whined about it—and Cocksucker waved her off. The woman pulled herself in, ignoring Butcher’s outstretched hand, and the door closed behind her. MM appeared in the driver’s seat, and as the engine started everyone fell into a heavy-breathed silence.

Through the ride, Ben watched the woman open and close her mouth a million times, returned to her fetal position in the corner but watching Cocksucker with a strained face. Her hands tapped against her still-smoking jacket, reaching out hesitantly before she pulled them back into herself. No words were spoken, not even the anxious whispers of the ride there. Ben felt relief as the van stopped, MM climbing out and opening the doors to reveal the exterior of the safe house, grateful for any excuse to leave these stupid, sniffing pussies to wallow in their failure.

MM led Ben and the woman to the doors, opened them by leaning oddly at the doorbell, and gestured for them to walk through. The man followed them in, shutting the doors behind him with a rough push.

“If we failed the test, I am not doing that fucking shit again.” Ben grumbled as MM turned around from the now-shut entrance.

“Butcher told me about the fucking mess you and him made in here.” MM ignored Ben entirely, speaking to the woman as if he wasn’t even there. “A team cleaned it up while you were gone, and Mallory will send more groceries tomorrow night. I saw a picture, it was fucking gross. I’m only doing it once, because I don’t want a new disease to develop in here. You’re an adult, you should take care of this place by your goddamn self.”

The woman looked at her feet, humming a small acknowledgment. She didn’t look up as she spoke. “Is Hughie going to be okay?”

MM sighed. “The kid will live. I’ll look at him when we get back.”

“I could help-“

MM cut her off with her name. “He’ll be fine. We’ll make sure of it.”

She gave another nervous hum, and Ben jumped in.

“Can you answer my fucking question-“

“We’ll let you know what our next steps are after we talk to Mallory and Singer. This wasn’t good, but it’s not the end of the damn world.” Once again, MM ignored Ben. It was starting to feel personal. Before Ben could push further, MM reached a hand out to rest on the woman’s shoulder, right over a hole in her sleeve. Her head shot up with her heart, but the panic in her seemed to evaporate just as soon as it appeared. Her name was gentle as MM spoke it, eyes locked with hers. “You didn’t fuck up. You did your job.” She nodded slowly. “It’ll be fine.” With those last words, he exited the building, leaving Ben and the woman in the hall.

“What’s his fucking problem?” Ben grunted, half directed at the woman, half to just say it.

She gave him a flat look. “You killed his family.” Before he could come up with a clever response, honest or dodging the annoying feeling of guilt forming in his throat, the woman turned from him and walked away.

———-

You were so tired. Your bones ached, oddly cold in a way you hadn’t felt in a while, your skin crawled with feverish chills, and when you closed your eyes, you could see the flames graze Hughie and the building turn to dust. As MM’s lingering calm he’d offered you faded, all you felt was tired. Worthless. A liability. You had fucked up, just as much as Soldier Boy. Maybe more so, because he had PTSD, even if he would deny being a “hung-up pussy”. He had lost control because he’d been tortured by Russians, you’d almost killed your friend and definitely destroyed a rec center because you’d been startled. You just wanted to sleep, to deal with the inevitable fight about groceries in the morning, running on more than quickly expiring adrenaline and caffeine pills stuck in your throat.

You made it to your room, changing into one of the pajama sets folded in your drawers, hoping someone mentioned that the allegedly fire-proof wardrobe you’d been given apparently wasn’t strong enough for the full force of your fire combined with Soldier Boy’s nuclear explosions. A shame, you’d liked the pants you’d chosen for the mission. You’d live without the jacket, though. You’d hardly pulled the shirt over your head when the door ripped open, a still suit-clad Soldier Boy standing at your door.

“What fucking happened to you?” His question was blunt and confusing as he entered your room, remaining near the door but over the threshold.

Your body was too heavy to fight with him right now. There was no tense prickling on the bridge of your nose, only the throbbing stab of a headache. “Go away, Soldier Boy.”

“All of you have a fucking thing. A weird, sad reason to whine around and pretend you’re better than me.” He didn’t budge, but rather leaned forward. “What’s yours.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You said I killed MM’s family. Butcher’s always pussying around about Homelander stealing his girl. Cocksucker mentioned something about that fast asshole doing something as well. I’m not sure what the French Prick bitches about, but I’m sure it’s something.”

“First of all, you did kill MM’s family.” You really don’t want to do this right now, but maybe he’ll give up and fuck off. A fruitless wish, a small part of you knows, but you have nothing left to push back with. “And Homelander didn’t ‘steal Butcher’s wife’, he raped her.”

“Right.” Soldier Boy watched you, his expression unreadable in the shadowy room. “Those are all fucking things. So tell me what yours is.”

“I don’t have one,” even as you speak the insistence, it sounded fake and hollow.

He takes another step forward. “Yes, you do. I saw how you froze, nobody without a thing locks up like that. I heard Cocksucker ask you if I ‘hurt you’. Just for the record, Sunshine, I may not be a Boy Scout, but I’m no fucking rapist.”

“You’ve tried to sleep with me thirty-three times.”

“And I’ll blow your mind when you realize how much you’d love it, no sooner. What’s your fucking thing.”

You stare at him, the intensity in his voice throwing you off. He’s insistent, comfortable in your room but standing at his full height, attention fixed entirely on you. That impression of dissection has returned—the feeling as if he’s trying to pick you apart for him to play with. “Why do you even care?”

“Because maybe if you tell me, I can kill what supe fucked up your pretty little head and you’ll be less of a bitch.”

You can’t stop the snort that escapes you. “What a selfish fucking cunt reason.”

He shrugged in something that could’ve been an agreement. “Maybe.” He falls silent, but doesn't leave.

You collapse to sit on the edge of your bed, staring ahead as you rub your temple. “Please just go.”

“No.”

You look at him, not caring if he sees the desperation in your eyes. “Can this not wait six hours for the morning?”

“No.”

“Do you know any words but no?” You mutter under your breath.

You didn’t miss his annoyed humph. “Oh, just fucking tell me.”

“No.” It was your turn to snap. Your exhaustion was becoming lined with bitter childishness, and you didn’t care enough to try and suppress your urge to sneer at him.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re an idiotic, self-absorbed, sadist asshat who wouldn’t know empathy if it started sucking his dick.” You mocked.

He grinned. “Ok, now name my bad qualities.”

“I’m not telling you.”

“I’ll start guessing,” he took another step forward, now almost directly before you. “Did that red-headed lesbian steal your puppy?

You frowned up at him. “Maeve was bisexual.”

“Did Noir take credit for a college project?” He ignored your comment, leaning down with a mocking smirk.

“Trust me, I got all my dues in college.”

“Did that gay-for-Jesus blond steal your boyfriend? Did the fast asshole that stole Cocksucker’s girl break up with you? Did water-boy eat your goldfish?”

“I’ve never met Ezekiel, A-Train actually murdered Hughie’s girlfriend, and The Deep famously doesn’t eat seafood, he fucks it. But by all means, keep going.”

Soldier Boy blinked. “He fucks it?”

“Yep. It’s gross.” You shrug. “Are you done?”

“Are you going to answer my question?”

You give a toothless smile. “Not until you get all your guesses out.”

“Oh?” There was unquestionable surprise in his voice at your relent, only making your fake cheer grow and your immature anger fully overtake you.

“I want you to feel like a real fucking asshole when I tell you.”

His face split open with a grin. “Well then, did the Twins kick you out of Herogasm? Did that bitch, Crimson Countess, overshadow your big debut? Did a Z-lister get more attention than you from the Vought pussies?”

You just raised your eyebrows, crossing your arms as Soldier Boy continued until the list of supes ran dry. As the last jeer left his mouth, he mirrored your face of cold amusement.

“Well?”

You leaned back, watching him closely as you spoke. “Homelander kidnapped me, kept me in a dungeon, raped me in an attempt to make more mini-Homelanders, and, after you returned, started experimenting on me to try and recreate the V used on you.”

A small shock rushed through you after you spoke. You hadn’t said any of that out loud, not fully, since you’d escaped. You danced around it with Butcher and his team, with Mallory and the CIA leaders, always picking and choosing parts to omit so nobody would look at you with pity and fear. It hadn’t worked, they did anyway, but there had still been control over it. Up until this moment, nobody had known why Homelander had done all those things to you. Everyone had seemed happy to chalk it up to him being a fucking psychopath, not anything deeper. Certainly not attempting to create a small army of additional Ryan Butchers. Small things were still yours, flashes of hunger and warped sounds remaining in your head, but everything else you had just told him.

Why did you do that? A voice hissed as the high from your petulance faded. Why did you let him win? Why did you give him a weapon to use that could hurt you?

But looking at him, he didn’t appear to be a portait of self-satisfaction and heartless triumph. He was staring at you, scanning you as though the scars Homelander left would be visible on your bare legs and arms. When he spoke, his voice wasn’t weak or coddling, but angry.

“He kept you locked up?”

You nod, part of you getting ready to fight him over something.

“He hurt you? To try and recreate me?” Your repeated nodding only seemed to inflate whatever was happening. “Did it hurt?”

Your arms and face started at that, an uncertain feeling spreading through you. There had been no reverent tone as Soldier Boy had asked the last question, no sadistic for affirmation. But you didn’t know what he wanted to hear. Why he even wanted to know. But an involuntarily honest answer escaped you. “Yes.”

He stared at you for another second before he opened his mouth, only to close it without making any sound. Abruptly, he whipped around and began to leave, giving you only one more indecipherable look as he closed the door behind him, leaving you on the edge of your bed, alone in your room.

You lay down slowly, half expecting him to storm back in at any moment, but minutes passed, quickly turning into a half hour, and your body sat at the edge of collapse once more. Soon it was unbearable, and you lay down, your racing mind being forced to a halt as sleep pulled you under.

Your sleep, as had been the case for a while now, was haunted by nightmares of blue eyes and yellow, fluorescent lights. You woke up in a cold sweat, and took a long, needlessly warm shower before forcing yourself to leave your room around 9:30. Despite your lingering fatigue, no part of you wasn’t restless as you walked down the stairs. Your body tense and ready to run, your head spinning with hypotheticals and lining up words you may need—that feeling under your skin creeping up your spine and fluttering in your gut. But Soldier Boy wasn’t in the living room or the hall. You poked your head in the dining room, hoping to avoid the minefield of the kitchen, but it was empty, the plastic chandelier lights off, the table occupied only by a vase of wilted flowers. You moved to the kitchen, ringing growing in your ears, but he wasn’t there. You turned to walk away, continue your search, but double-back as it hit you.

Nothing was in the kitchen. It was empty. Of Soldier Boy, and of the groceries MM said would be delivered.

You wandered in slowly, watching the counters as if they might start to glitch and flicker, revealing hidden produce and dirty dishes. But, leaning over the sink, there was a single plate, soaking in water that was dotted with crumbs. Slowly, you moved to the refrigerator, slowly opening it as you glanced around the room. Your eyes widened at the sight inside. Milk, drinks, and produce had been placed inside, disorganized and haphazardly. There was a jar of mayonnaise in the fresh drawer, along with a box of pasta on a side shelf, but the fridge was full. You moved quickly to the pantry, which had been sorted in a similar fashion, but filled. And when you opened the last cabinet, you saw a piece of paper stuck under a jar of peanut butter.

I know I did a shit job. Clean up if it bothers you, but don't bitch to me about it. And tell Mallory to get smooth peanut butter next time, or I’m not doing anything for her but killing Homelander - Ben

[eternalflxmes]

"Who are you supposed to be? And why do everyone fear you?" Tadano asked. It was his first time ever traveling this far from Japan.

"Why, so glad of you to ask, dear boy. I am Lord Shen. And I have taken back my rightful place as ruler of Gongmen City." a coy smile formed on his beak. "Ah yes. My ghostly plumage does strike awe in the eyes of others, it is quite a haunting sight to see. But--it is truly because they know what I am capable of. If only they could see the greatness in me. Then, the fear would turn into pure admiration." he ended off in a low, malicious whisper.