#'i've been 22 for the past 40 years'

[gamebunny-advance]

Dsync Doodles

I dunno why, but I felt like going back to a few old Desynchronized sketches that I never finished. They're still not "finished" and I don't think I'll really do anything with them since Desynchornized/DSYNC is effectively dead to me.

That said, I did *try* to do something with the first one, but it just wasn't working out. Under the cut due to eye strain.

[maddy-ferguson]

when people who like seasons 1 and 2 better explain why it was better they always lose me when they say "the characters were what mattered the most the supernatural plot was basically not that important it was ALL about the characters" like...that's just what YOU were more interested in not what was happening in the show? like wdym the supernatural plotline wasn't that important in seasons 1 and 2. saying that it was more balanced or more subtle i get but saying that the supernatural plot wasn't THAT important and that it's not what made anyone love the show is a blatant lie

[servicpop]

NSFW ; BLACK , WHITE & GRAY criminal bottom m!reader x detective oc

warnings; age gap , degradation , hate sex , exhibitionism/infront of people (mentioned slightly) , hand cuffs , dubcon/noncon(?) , no after care

notes __ this idea has been sitting in my inbox for awhile but I've finally gotten around to it !

JUNE 19 1999 / 11:48PM

Red and blue lights colored the night skies; not even a slither of the moonlight slipped past the cover of the clouds. The bright yellow caution tape strapped around the fences of the home squealed when Callahan Marshall pulled them up to duck underneath them.

Officers on the scene scrambled to question him but were quickly shot down with the flash of his badge. They slowly retreated, allowing for the man to walk into the crime scene.

The rain had been unforgiving tonight, covering all traces of footprints that might have been left by the culprit in an attempt to escape. A scowl plastered Callahan's face as the stench of alcohol and smoke insulted his nose. The floorboards creaked underneath each step he took, whining with the burden of his weight.

"Careful, Marshall, we aren't too sure if the culprit even left. There's been no signs of escape." Callahan's eyes slowly met the ones that belonged to one of his co-workers — another detective. The other man visibly shuddered when Callahan's pitch-black eyes met his, deep circles tainted the bags of his eyes. A gruff noise was all he got in response before Callahan made his way through the home.

It wasn't a house belonging to someone particularly made up of money so why would anyone make such a mess out of it?

The rooms were left clean, untouched almost. Only a few drawers or cabinets were opened and a few appliances were out of place but no alarming indicator a robbery had happened. Callahan traced a finger along the countertops of the kitchen, looking at the dust that had been sweeped up. This house had been left like this for awhile, even before the culprit set foot in there.

A sudden clattering caught Callahan's attention and he turned his body to the other detective and police officers searching the house, "Did you knock something over?" "No sir, what did you hear?"

Callahan slowly approached the laundry room, twisting the doorknob with caution. He pushed the knob forward and the door swung open. It was hard to make out with the lack of light but Callahan saw a figure dart out the window. "Here!" He called out, alerting the officers before he walked up to the window, watching as the figure scrambled away. He wasn't worried though, the whole place had been surrounded by police patrolling the area.

You couldn't get far even if you tried.

JUNE 22 / 2:24PM

You got caught. It was about time you did.

You had spent the past few years doing various, sketchy jobs in the desperation for money. You lost your job not even three months into it and it had become harder and harder to find suitable jobs to spend the rest of your life slaving away at. You had no choice, it was either that or living off the streets with the local sewer rats as your only form of entertainment and friendship.

Now, you were stuck in an enclosed, dusty white room, sat cuffed to a metal table right in the middle of it with an annoyingly bright light dangling from the ceiling. It was the interrogation room. And the man you sat infront of you was none other than the 'greatest detective of our time' Callahan Marshall.

He was an older guy, probably pushing his 40s by now. You could tell from the way his brows were locked into a furrowing position and the stubble that graced his chin seemed lazily maintained. He also had quite the bit of hair on his arms, his sleeves loosely rolled above his elbows. You couldn't really tell what color his eyes were from how low he held his head and the light above you casted a deep shadow over his eyes, but through the darkness you concluded that they were a yellow-ish orange. Interesting.

"June 19." You flinched. It was expected that he had a deep voice but actually hearing it was different. His voice was coarse, gravelly like wheels crunching against a rocky trail and you could practically hear the amount of cigarettes he's smoked throughout his years of stress. "You were caught about and hour or two after police had arrived," Callahan sounded bored, mumbling his words.

Growing up, Callahan had always hated criminals. From watching bad guys on TV to coming home and seeing his parents dead on the floor and his house a mess from a robbery, Callahan devoted the past years to serving justice. His world was devoid of color, a black and white film on an old, vintage television.

"Did you steal from Mr Broadwood's home?" He pressed, leaning his forearms along the table. They were meaty, not extremely muscular but definitely built from casual hours at the gym. Could you even lie at this point? He was so sure with his words that even the fact that people were watching you from the two-way mirror comforted you from this man.

"No." And the cheap lie rolled off your tongue like it was sweet candy. He raised his eyebrows, unamused. Yeah he was definitely onto you. "So... these photos aren't you?" A confused look flashed across his face as he slid the printed images of your face in full view; it was painfully obvious that it was you. But your head seemed to shake side to side saying 'that's not me' like it was instinct. Callahan leaned back in his chair, scrubbing a hand over his face as his head tilted back in annoyance. You could hear the prickly sound of his stubble scraping against the palm of his hand.

"I'll force it out of you if you don't fess up," His hand slammed down onto the metal table, causing it to rattle from the contact. "Fine, is force the only thing you cops know how to do?" It was only natural you acted this way. For all your life you've relied on cops to protect you and your loved ones, but each time you needed them the most, they turned a blind eye to you.

But, oil doesn't mix with water. Your two starkingly different perspectives caused conflict. With balled fists, Callahan stood up, the chair scraping against the floors with how abruptly he stood up. Before you knew it, a hand made its way to your hair. Callahan's thick fingers tangled in the strands and pulled your head back, eliciting a small yelp from you. He leaned in closer, looming over you with hate seeping from his pores.

"Tell me this isn't you," He growled, picking up the photos and shoving it in your face. In all honesty, you were focused on how damn close he was. His breath was fanning against the shell of your ear and if you concentrated enough, you could hear the short breaths he took. Callahan straightened his posture but never loosened his grip on your hair. He pulled your head back even further and peered down at you. "Dirty criminal," he muttered under his breath.

You swore it was just the adrenaline making you hard. There was no way you'd fall for a detective like him. So why did he have your face squished onto the table and your boxers pulled down just under the curve of your ass.

"This is what you wanted isn't it?" Callahan had one hand holding your head down and another on your waist, digging into your flesh. He found out that the more he dug into your waist, the more you'd whine and squirm against him. You couldn't deny his words though, something in you was so intrigued by Callahan. He got straight to the point, and he didn't try and fool you with kindness. But maybe you wished he'd be a little more gentle with you.

Your eyes shot wide open when you felt his tip circle your rim. You didn't even have to see it to know the size of it. Could it even fit? "Wait—" Your words were cut off as he thrust forward with no warning, letting his cock sink into your hole. The burning sensation of the stretch made tears bubble at your eyes, threatening to spill. A groan slipped from his lips as he buried himself to the hilt, "God you're too tight."

Callahan moved his hand from your head to firmly grip at your waist, leaning forward so his body weight would pin you down. His hips grinded against you, digging his cock deeper inside your warm body. "Spit it out, did you do it or not?" He grunted, beads of sweat trickled down his temples as he pounded into you repeatedly, watching your flesh ripple with each thrust. "You're leaking everywhere," He chided, snaking his hand to reach for your neglected dick, holding the tip in his palm.

Your wrists strained against the cuffs binding you to the table, the metal cutting into your flesh as you struggled. "I didn't— do it!" You managed to gasp between moans, your hair spilling out onto the table. "Oh really? You didn't do it huh?" He scoffed and his hand tightened around your weeping tip, stroking you off in time with his relentless thrusts.

"People are watching you through that mirror and through the cameras, your pathetic face is on view for everyone to see," Callahan leaned down to whisper in your ear, grabbing a fistful of hair to yank your head up, allowing your teary face to be on full display for the cameras. Fuck, that turned you on more then you would've wanted it to.

His head slung against your shoulder, an oddly affection gesture for how hard he was fucking you. "I know you're not innocent, but your fuckin' doe eyes pisses me off," Callahan's voice had gotten even rougher, and the anger was clear in his tone. He was just using you for stress relief.

Your thighs trembled and your body started to give out, the stimulation was too much for you. His cock kept abusing your prostate, grinding and rubbing against it so much that black stars seemed to cloud your vision. Your fingertips clawed at the metal table, trying to ground yourself as shameless moans came out of your throat. "You're so loud," He scowled, leaning back so he could admire your back in its full glory.

It got him off with the way you sucked him back in even if you seemed so stubborn to liking him. Watching his fat cock disappear into your hole was enough to make him groan. "You wanna cum? Admit it." It was like his dick was a truth serum, you found yourself blabbering, tears rolling down your pink cheeks as you spewed out the truth, "Fine, I did it, I did it, please— just—" A smirk plastered Callahan's face as he whistled, "Go ahead."

In a split second you found yourself spurting out white all over his hand, your back arched and your body convulsed in his grip. Callahan meant to pull out but you were sucking him in so much that he couldn't. He cursed as his orgasm crashed down on him like a wave, filling you up with his sperm before he could pull out. "Shit," he huffed, pulling up his pants before he stared at his cum dripping from your hole. It was still clenching around nothing, and Callahan couldn't help but feel a pang of responsibility for you, but he shook off those thoughts. His one duty was to protect the civilians, not empathise with criminals.

"I'm done here," He grumbled, picking up his things and leaving you slumped on the floor, still bound by the handcuffs on the metal table. He turned his head over his shoulder to glance at you one more time, feeling a strange uncomfortable sensation in his heart before he scoffed and walked out the doors.

He's never lost control like that with any other criminal.

BONUS ; IN THE OTHER SIDE OF THE INTERROGATION ROOM

"Kid looks like he's about to die," Alastair, a co-worker of Callahan, was assigned to supervise the interrogation, "Marshall sure is brutal," He sighed, standing up once he heard that Callahan was finished.

"At least his tactics work though, props to him," Alastair turned around to face the intern who was meant to learn from this experience. The poor boy had his hands covering his eyes.

"It's fine now, you stay here, I'll clean the guy up."

a/n ; i changed my layout !! Its alot easier now ^^; my previous one had so many symbols I had to copy and paste ,, anyways ! I finally wrote about him ♡♡ the original request(?) was a bit different so this is ooc of him but I will expand more on his story if you guys like him ! Also I introduced Alastair ,, maybe I can write a threesome with them sometime !! I've never done it before so who knows

[felixandresims]

Hello Everyone :),

I've been creating custom content for almost six years now and this month felt a little bit like time travel. For the 6th part of the 'Chateau Set,' I decided to create historical items again like I used to (but in a more maxis match style) and wanted to use all the skills I learned over the past years.

I wanted a very French-looking set of seating items and had a look again at what I created for the Petit Trianon. Also for years I have been obsessed with rattan and cane and incorporated those details, my trip to the Provence helped for inspiration too :). I made a three seater, a loveseat and an armchair and something for our little friends, two pet beds, a large and a small one. The pet beds require the cats and dogs expansion pack! All seating items come in the same 40 Swatches which you can see in the Gif above, some have the pattern that I used for the Petit Trianon loveseat and chairs.

Another item I was looking forward to making was draped curtains. I hand-sculpted those in blender to give them a painterly look and make them extra soft :) The curtains come in 22 Swatches.

Still inspired by the Petit Trianon I roughly recreated the fireplace found in the Salon. I added a simpler version of the fireplace for variety too. On top of the mantelpiece, you can place my new mirror :)

Last but not least I made two sets of panelling, a simpler and more ornate version. Each paneling consists of 4 wallpapers, don't forget to check them out in the build mode :).

This Set is on Early Access and you'll find it here

Thank you so much again for all the love and support from the past six years, If you are already interested in what's coming next month, it will be a bedroom set :)

Happy Simming and lots of Love,

Felix xxx

[astradyke]

Phil Lester, the romantic you are. (or, some of my favorite "Phil loving Dan" moments in the last few years ft. actual timestamps, since i'm not artsy enough for web-weaves yet)

❧ "Thanks Dan-" "Thank you... for tolerating my presence." "-for treating us with your presence." (What Dan and Phil Text Each Other 2, 20:50)

❧ The cooing at Dan's outfit at The International Academy of Digital Arts and Sciences Award event, including putting a hand over his heart. (ROASTING DAN'S 'FASHION', 11:11)

❧ The edited segment at the end of this video in which Phil does an additional promotion of Dan's book; "I've just seen how happy he's been since he's found all this stuff out..." (I TRY TO GIVE DAN A HAIRCUT!!, 19:10)

❧ "Oh look, we're together!" (Dan and Phil Chained Together, 12:40) -- volume warning for this one.

❧ Every time during this video in which Phil expresses excitement that his character is with Dan's again, or stress that him and Dan will be separated (Dan and Phil are Getting Divorced - It Takes Two #1, non-exhaustive list of timestamps 17:50, 22:20)

❧ “Here’s where that’s fine. I would shape-shift into you, you would shape-shift into me… no, we know each other so well, it wouldn’t be that different." (Phil Pushes Dan's Button for 18 Minutes, 10:47)

"op you forgot-" a lot of these are just recent clips i've mentioned in the past since i was asked to give time-stamps, but please add more in notes! i know most folks know these but in case anyone doesn't :3 (honorary mention both mukbangs & every baking video)

BONUS: my personal "roman empire", AKA a selection of pictures Phil's taken of Dan that I think are particularly loud -- warning in advance these do not have IDs but when i get a chance i can add them into an RB! all under cut <3

EXTRA BONUS: i made a post compiling some of my favorite pictures of Phil wearing the "We're All Doomed" merch hat because this is something i think about a lot too. these have IDs! my actual post isn't important i just didn't want to recopy over the pictures.

phil lester loving via photography in a very non-exhaustive list because it's not like this has been his birthday tradition or anything... i hate romance. <3

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

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

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

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

Word Count: 9.1K

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

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

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

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

*********************************************

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

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

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

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

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

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

You had to find out for yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Anything."

"Watch out for the kid."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why?"

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

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

"I know." You nod.

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

"Yeah. I remember."

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

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

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

"I will."

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

Probably about as much as Ben hated leaving you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do you promise?" She says.

"Yes I promise honey." Ben smiles tightly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"A whole field?" Her eyes brighten.

"A whole field."

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

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

You stand. "I have to do something."

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

"I'm not going after Mindstorm."

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

You don’t answer.

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

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

“What do you mean everything that happened?”

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

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

"Vogelbaum?" Rosemary questions looking at him.

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

"What is it?" Legend asks.

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

"What would that help?" Rosemary interjects.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No but-"

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

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

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

Rosemary's expression hardens. "Okay."

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

"I love you too mom."

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

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

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

"He is not-"

"He is."

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

He should be. It's a nice car.

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

If only you knew what was coming.

************************************************************************

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Some security detail.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It doesn't get far.

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

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

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

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

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

Plus, maybe the secret would die with Stan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Realized what?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stan utters one word. "Please."

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

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

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

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

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

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

He continues to look down at his ruined hands.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What plan?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stan swallows. “Yours and Soldier Boy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What did you just say?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Y/n please-"

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

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

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

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

************************************************************************

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

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

Take A Chance On Me

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

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[mikerickson]

Posting more for myself because for better or worse this Tumblr has become an online personal journal of my entire twenties and thirties. I've been driving my 2011 Mazda since I bought it new for about thirteen years now, and after a spate of issues in the past year I knew it's time was coming to an end:

My stereo system crapped out in the summer of 2016 and I've been driving in silence ever since

Perpetual leak in the rear passenger tire was giving me a low tire pressure warning about once every other week (more often in the winter) so I was constantly topping it off

The entire chassis rattled violently when I decelerated coming off of a highway and into an exit

A really loud screeching sound rang out whenever I accelerated uphill and was going between 40-50 mph

The rear driver side wheelwell had a gnarly rattle on anything but the smoothest of roads

Part of the dashboard literally melted and separated from the rest of the car

Rear-view mirror was warped

etc. etc.

A lot of this stemmed from an incident in late '22 when I went too long without getting an oil change, which seized the engine and led to a really long process to get a replacement engine installed. When I learned that full electric cars didn't need oil changes and had less maintenance overall, that got my attention and kinda guided my decision towards considering one for my next car.

After doing honestly about 6 months of research on EVs, numerous cost-benefit analyses across multiple spreadsheets, looking at future long-term plans of individual companies and agonizing over the options, I finally settled on a 2024 Hyundai Kona. I also lucked out with a helpful salesman who actually wanted to sell it to me (a lot of the dealers I'd previously went to during this process clam up and get weird about EVs), because he drives an Ioniq 5 for himself.

I dropped off my old car to pick up the new one tonight, and of course I got emotional on the last drive over, I mean I had that car for over a third of my life! Had to run to the bathroom and compose myself as soon as we got to the dealership, but writing that deposit check sobered me right up real quick.

Anyway, now I'm driving around a car that feels like a fucking spaceship. Let's see if I drive this one 'til the wheels fall off too.

[jame7t]

question from someone who checked out from infinite a while ago; has 343 even added anything beyond cosmetics and forge assets in the past year? feels like anytime I see a new update it's just forge maps they're putting in the queue

as far as i know there's been like, little to nothing. Some "new" gamemodes but it's still just adding stuff from previous games. 3 years into its life cycle. The game is ostensibly on life support aside from the frequently (and loudly) updated cash shop. Like, when a game wants to be a live service, it should justify a cash shop via actual content drops. Helldivers 2 releases monthly mini battlepasses & still manages numerous free content drops each month. Plus, it's prices are not absolutely divorced from reality. Sure, Helldivers is also 40 dollars, but it was a complete game on release and Helldivers' cash shop respects the fact that i've paid 40 bucks already.

Like, here's a wonderful selection from Halo Infinite's cash shop during the flood event:

These are 20-22 dollar armor sets. Also, Halo Infinite is "Free to play" but the campaign alone is still 60 bucks. "Okay, so the campaign being separate from multiplayer means those 60 bucks means a much larger campaign, right? No, because of course it doesn't. Halo infinite's campaign is technically larger in the sense that it has wider areas, but with less enemy variety, a complete lack of dynamic set pieces, literally three types of environment, & kind of a shit sandbox compared to previous games, it feels MUCH smaller. So, I paid 60 bucks for Halo, and because Halo says anyone can play for free now, all the people who bought campaign are now also stuck with the free to play prices, which is terrible. Also, to reiterate: Why are there 20 dollar armor sets in a game. why do you get to pay 22 dollars to havbe the flood shit on you. these items are priced like the game gets actual updates. Halo infinite has not received a (fun) new weapon since launch. (They added the bandit, which is a scope-less DMR from previous halo games, then added the bandit EVO, which is a variant so boring that i refused to google the difference at the time of writing this.) Anyway, Helldivers 2 cash shop costs like 2-3 bucks for armor sets, some show up cheaper. And the currency you buy them with? Incredibly easy to earn.

sorry for doing my gaming rant. if you want we can call it an infodump & we can pretend i said all this on the lap of a cooing milf who is voluptious &cares deeply about how mad i am at video games

[mostlysignssomeportents]

An excerpt from The Bezzle

I'm on tour with my new novel The Bezzle! Catch me next in SALT LAKE CITY (Feb 21, Weller Book Works) and SAN DIEGO (Feb 22, Mysterious Galaxy). After that, it's LA, Seattle, Portland, Phoenix and more!

Today, I'm bringing you part one of an excerpt from Chapter 14 of The Bezzle, my next novel, which drops on Feb 20. It's an ice-cold revenge technothriller starring Martin Hench, a two-fisted forensic accountant specialized in high-tech fraud:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865878/thebezzle

Hench is the Zelig of high-tech fraud, a character who's spent 40 years in Silicon Valley unwinding every tortured scheme hatched by tech-bros who view the spreadsheet as a teleporter that whisks other peoples' money into their own bank-accounts. This setup is allowing me to write a whole string of these books, each of which unwinds a different scam from tech's past, present and future, starting with last year's Red Team Blues (now in paperback!), a novel that whose high-intensity thriller plotline is also a masterclass in why cryptocurrency is a scam:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865854/redteamblues

Turning financial scams into entertainment is important work. Finance's most devastating defense is the Shield Of Boringness (h/t Dana Clare) – tactically deployed complexity designed to induce the state that finance bros call "MEGO" ("my eyes glaze over"). By combining jargon and obfuscation, the most monstrous criminals of our age have been able to repeatedly bring our civilization to the brink of collapse (remember 2008?) and then spin their way out of it.

Turning these schemes into entertainment is hard, necessary work, because it incinerates the respectable suit and tie and leaves the naked dishonesty of the finance sector on display for all to see. In The Big Short, they recruited Margot Robbie to explain synthetic CDOs from a bubble-bath. And John Oliver does this every week on Last Week Tonight, coming up with endlessly imaginative stunts and gags to flense the bullshit, laying the scam economy open to the bone.

This was my inspiration for the Hench novels (I've written and sold three of these, of which The Bezzle is number two; I've got at least two more planned). Could I use the same narrative tactics I used to explain mass surveillance, cryptography and infosec in the Little Brother books to turn scams into entertainment, and entertainment into the necessary, informed outrage that might precipitate change?

The main storyline in The Bezzle concerns one of the most gruesome scams in today's America: prison-tech, which sees America's vast army of prisoners being stripped of letters, calls, in-person visits, parcels, libraries and continuing ed in favor of cheap tablets that bilk prisoners and their families of eye-watering sums for every click they make:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/14/minnesota-nice/#shitty-technology-adoption-curve

But each Hench novel has a variety of side-quests that work to expose different kinds of financial chicanery. The Bezzle also contains explainers on the workings of MLMs/Ponzis (and how Gerry Ford and Betsy DeVos's father-in-law legalized one of the most destructive forces in America) and the way that oligarchs, foreign and domestic, use Real Estate Investment Trusts to hide their money and destroy our cities.

And there's a subplot about music-royalty theft, a form of pernicious wage theft that is present up and down the music industry supply-chain. This is a subject that came up a lot when Rebecca Giblin and I were researching and writing Chokepoint Capitalism, our 2022 book about creative labor markets:

https://chokepointcapitalism.com/

Two of the standout cases from that research formed the nucleus of the subplot in The Bezzle, the case of Leonard Cohen's batshit manager who stole millions from him and then went to prison for stalking him, leaving him virtually penniless and forced to keep touring to keep himself fed:

https://www.theguardian.com/music/2012/apr/19/leonard-cohen-former-manager-jailed

The other was George Clinton, whose manager forged his signature on a royalty assignment, then used the stolen money to defend himself against Clinton's attempts to wrestle his rights back and even to sue Clinton for defamation for writing about the caper in his memoir:

https://www.musicconnection.com/the-legal-beat-george-clinton-wins-defamation-case/

That's the tale that this excerpt – which I'll be serializing in six parts over the coming week – tells, in fictionalized form. It's not Margot Robbie in a bubble-bath, it's not a John Oliver monologue, but I think it's pretty goddamned good.

I'm leaving for a long, multi-city, multi-country, multi-continent tour with The Bezzle next Wednesday, starting with an event at Weller Bookworks in Salt Lake City on the 21st:

https://www.wellerbookworks.com/event/store-cory-doctorow-feb-21-630-pm

I'll in be in San Diego on the 22nd at Mysterious Galaxy:

https://www.mystgalaxy.com/22224Doctorow

And then it's on to LA (with Adam Conover), Seattle (with Neal Stephenson), Portland, Phoenix and beyond:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/16/narrative-capitalism/#bezzle-tour

I hope you'll come out for the tour (and bring your friends)!

Between 1972 and 1978, Steve Soul (a.k.a. Stefon Magner) had a string of sixteen Billboard Hot 100 singles, one of which cracked the Top 10 and won him an appearance on Soul Train. He is largely forgotten today, except by hip-­hop producers who prize his tracks as a source of deep, funky grooves. They sampled the hell out of him, not least because his rights were controlled by Inglewood Jams, a clearinghouse for obscure funk tracks that charged less than half of what the Big Three labels extracted for each sample license.

Even at that lower rate, those license payments would have set Stefon up for a comfortable retirement, especially when added to his Social Security and the disability check from Dodgers Stadium, where he cleaned floors for more than a decade before he fell down a beer-­slicked bleacher and cracked two of his lumbar discs. But Stefon didn’t get a dime. His former manager, Chuy Flores, forged his signature on a copyright assignment in 1976. Stefon didn’t discover this fact until 1979, because Chuy kept cutting him royalty checks, even as Stefon’s band broke up and those royalties trickled off. In Stefon’s telling, the band broke up because the rest of the act—­especially the three-­piece rhythm section of two percussionists and a beautiful bass player with a natural afro and a wild, infectious hip-­wiggle while she played—­were too coked up to make it to rehearsal, making their performances into shambling wreckages and their studio sessions into vicious bickerfests. To hear the band tell of it, Stefon had bad LSD (“Lead Singer Disease”) and decided he didn’t need the rest of them. One thing they all agreed on: there was no way Stefon would have signed over the band’s earnings to Chuy, who was little more than a glorified bookkeeper, with Stefon hustling all their bookings and even ordering taxis to his bandmates’ houses to make sure they showed up at the studio or the club on time. Stefon remembered October of ’79 well. He’d been waiting with dread for the envelope from Chuy. The previous royalty check, in July, had been under $250. The previous quarter’s had been over $1,000. This quarter’s might have zero. Stefon needed the money. His 1972 Ford Galaxie needed a new transmission. He couldn’t keep driving it in first.

The envelope arrived late, the day before Halloween, and for a brief moment, Stefon was overcome by an incredible, unbelieving elation: Chuy’s laboriously typewritten royalty statement ended with the miraculous figure of $7,421.16. Seven thousand dollars! It was more than two years’ royalties, all in one go! He could fix the Galaxie’s transmission and get the ragtop patched, and still have money left over for his back rent, his bar tab, his child support, and a fine steak dinner, and even then, he’d end the month with money in his savings account.

But there was no check in the envelope. Stefon shook the envelope, carefully unfolded the royalty statement to ensure that there was no check stapled to its back, went downstairs to the apartment building lobby and rechecked his mailbox.

Finally, he called Chuy.

“Chuy, man, you forgot to put a check in the envelope.”

“I didn’t forget, Steve. Read the paperwork again. You gotta send me a check.”

“What the fuck? That’s not funny, Chuy.”

“I ain’t joking, Steve. I been advancing you royalties for more than three years, but you haven’t earned nothing new since then—­no new recordings. I can’t afford to carry you no more.”

“Say what?”

Chuy explained it to him like he was a toddler. “Remember when you signed over your royalties to me in ’76? Every dime I’ve sent you since then was an advance on your future recordings, only you haven’t had none of those, so I’m cutting you off and calling in your note. I’m sorry, Steve, but I ain’t a charity. You don’t work, you don’t earn. This is America, brother. No free lunches.”

“After I did what in ’76?”

“Steve, in 1976 you signed over all your royalties to me. We agreed, man! I can’t believe you don’t remember this! You came over to my spot and I told you how it was and you said you needed money to cover the extra horns for the studio session on Fight Fire with Water. I told you I’d cover them and you’d sign over all your royalties to me.”

Stefon was briefly speechless. Chuy had paid the sidemen on that session, but that was because Chuy owed him a thousand bucks for a string of private parties they’d played for some of Chuy’s cronies. Chuy had been stiffing him for months and Stefon had agreed to swap the session fees for the horn players in exchange for wiping out the debt, which had been getting in the way of their professional relationship.

“Chuy, you know it didn’t happen that way. What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about when you signed over all your royalties to me. And you know what? I don’t like your tone. I’ve carried your ass for years now, sent you all that money out of my own pocket, and now you gotta pay up. My generosity’s run out. When you gonna send me a check?”

Of course, it was a gambit. It put Stefon on tilt, got him to say a lot of ill-­advised things over the phone, which Chuy secretly recorded. It also prompted Stefon to take a swing at Chuy, which Chuy dived on, shamming that he’d had a soft-­tissue injury in his neck, bringing suit for damages and pressing an aggravated-­assault charge.

He dropped all that once Stefon agreed not to keep on with any claims about the forged signature; Stefon went on to become a good husband, a good father, and a hard worker. And if cleaning floors at Dodgers Stadium wasn’t what he’d dreamed of when he was headlining on Soul Train, at least he never missed a game, and his boy came most weekends and watched with him. Stefon’s supervisor didn’t care.

But the stolen royalties ate at him, especially when he started hearing his licks every time he turned on the radio. His voice, even. Chuy Flores had a fully paid-­off three-­bedroom in Eagle Rock and two cars and two ex-­wives and three kids he was paying child support on, and Stefon sometimes drove past Chuy Flores’s house to look at his fancy palm trees all wrapped up in strings of Christmas lights and think about who paid for them.

ETA: Here's part two!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/17/the-steve-soul-caper/#lead-singer-disease

[dollystuartwrites]

Stray Gods - Chapter 49

Pairing: Gods!OT8 x !F!Reader Genre: romance, friends to lovers, polyamory, mystery, supernatural, angst, fluff, smut Wordcount: 5112 Chapters:  [1] - [2] - [3] - [4] - [5] - [6] - [7] - [8] - [9] - [10] [11] - [12] - [13] - [14] - [15] - [16] - [17] - [18] - [19] - [20] [21] - [22] - [23] - [24] - [25] - [26] - [27] - [28] - [29] - [30] [31] - [32] - [33] - [34] - [35] - [36] - [37] - [38] - [39] - [40] [41] - [42] - [43] - [44] - [45] - [46] - [47] - [48] - [49] - [?] MASTERLIST Summary: With no memory of who you were, you wake up in the woods, only to be found by eight unusually handsome men. With no information of the past, the guys decide to take you in and take care of you for the time being. But that time becomes years, and as time passes, you start to notice that there is something different about them... and something different about you... Warnings: angst, praise, thigh riding, kissing, fingering, overstimulation, lovebites, bad/miscommunication, low self-esteem, swearing, name-calling, dry humping, college, degradation, gods, special powers, vaginal sex, oral sex (f&m), mentions of contraception (condoms&thepill), injuries, mentions of death (but no character deaths), virgin!reader, teasing, orgasms, poly relationship, semi-public sex, daddy kink, strength kink, grinding, I've probably forgotten some, so let me know if I did and I will add more as the story progresses.

Taglist: @eastleighsblog​​​​ @tangerminie​​​​ @swittyregan​​​​ @septicrebel​​​​ @jiimout​​​​ @zandra-42​​​​​​@julciaqwerty​​​​ @vampcharxter​​​​ @mercurezed​​ @thatgirlangelb​ @cookiemonstermusic258​​ @stayconnecteed​​ @bubblelixie​​ @smilingtokki@hash2013 @juskz Want to be added or did I miss you? Just send me an ASK or DM

Lots of love and many thanks to my current beta’s from Wattpad: rocker7898 and sydneye2411. You guys made my writing so much better <3

'Hey, look at me,' Felix spoke. You looked over at him, your hands still fidgeting with the straps of your bag sitting on your lap.

Felix had insisted on taking you to school today, as Minho had already left, having to arrive early to be on time to prepare for the lessons he had to teach that day. Minho hadn't said much, and you were sure he was the only one who was as doubtful about the entire situation as you were. When Hyunjin had left your room, he had returned to Han, continuing to monitor him and relieving Felix from his post. You had gotten ready far too slowly, your head still going back and forth between believing and trusting in Hyunjin and the urge to run back into Han's room. By the time you were done, Minho had already left. You knew you had been slow on purpose, hoping that being unable to catch a ride with Minho would give you the excuse to stay home. Somewhere you suspected that that was why Minho hadn't announced his departure, nor given you a heads-up and final call like he usually did. You suspected he too would prefer it if you were to stay home with Han, even if it would hinder your academic success. But Han wouldn't have it. When Felix had left his room it seemed like Han had given him a mission of making sure you would get to school today. After checking your bag for the umpteenth time, pretending you weren't sure if you had packed your favorite pen, notebook, and charger, Felix was starting to lose his patience and urged you out of the house. For the entire drive to school, you sat beside him silently, fiddling with your bag nervously as you kept imagining Han's pale and sick face.

Felix gave you a kind smile.

'We've arrived,' he said simply. You looked out the window again, seeing the familiar building, with many people coming and going to and from the entrance.

'Right,' you said, quickly opening the door and jumping from your seat.

You heard the other car door open and close, and as you were about to take a step towards the school, Felix halted you. He rested his hands upon your shoulders and turned you to face him, hands not leaving you.

'He'll be alright by the time you get home,' Felix assured you, repeating Hyunjin's words.

'How do you know?' You asked, insecurity lacing your tone. Felix sighed.

'Trust Hyunjin. He knows what he's talking about. I know it's scary and all, one of us being sick for the first time, but I'm sure he is right. There is no doubt in my heart that his diagnosis is incorrect. So trust him,' Felix urged.

'I do but…' you began, hesitating for a moment, 'but how can he look like that, be so sick… just because of.. love… is it… it's… because of me, right?'

'Oh baby,' he said with a chuckle, taking you into his arms and hugging you tightly.

'None of this is your fault, and no one could've ever seen this coming. We only just found out too, even Hyunjin had a hard time placing his finger on it,' Felix said in a comforting tone.

'But how can he be that sick?' you pressed on worriedly. Felix let go of you, putting his hands on your shoulders once more and looking at you warmly.

'We might be gods, but we don't know everything, you know,' he said with a chuckle. 'Honestly, I don't know why he is as sick as he is, and why he is the only one,' Felix admitted truthfully, looking thoughtful, 'but I know illnesses and I know they can affect different beings in very different ways, even if they are the same species. Besides, it's what Hyunjin always says; the power love holds over all things is severely underestimated. I've seen many pets miraculously cured of diseases that I personally had diagnosed and pronounced terminal, just because of the love they got from their humans. Mind you, of course, that's not for every pet, and that doesn't mean they don't get enough love but-' he added, but seeing your face he quickly stopped and cleared his throat. 'Anyhow, what I was saying is that, as Jinnie always persists, love has more power than we realize and works in mysterious ways.' Felix ended.

'He will get better,' you said, stating it to convince yourself.

'He will get better,' Felix said definitely. 'And he is already getting better as a matter of fact. Just when you left I noticed his heartbeat seemed to be getting back to normal and even his color and scent seemed to be slowly returning to its original state,' Felix said seriously but with a smile.

You nodded.

'Now, no more dawdling because Han will give me an earful, as soon as his voice is recovered, if I do not get you to your next lesson on time,' he laughed. You couldn't help but chuckle a bit at his remark. He let go of your shoulders, and one of his hands took hold of your chin.

'Can I see your pretty smile one more time before you leave?' he asked sweetly. You smiled for him, a real smile and a bit of warmth seemed to return to your insides. 'That's my baby,' he grinned. He bent towards you, planting a soft kiss on your lips before withdrawing again. You could instantly feel yourself blushing. 'Just making sure I won't get sick as well,' he teased. You pouted at him and he winked, letting go of your face and waving you goodbye as you walked up to the school.

'WHYYYYYY are you not just addicted to your phone like the rest of us,' an irritated voice spoke. Before you could look around, you were being jumped, an arm around your neck pulling you into a headlock.

'Sera!' you said her name, laughing but trying to get free.

'No! I told you I would kill you when you'd get back, so get it girl,' she laughed, rubbing her hand over your hair and messing it up. You squealed and giggled, trying to get loose but she wouldn't let go until she was satisfied.

'There,' she said huffing as she let go of you, putting her hands on her hips and looking at your messed up hair proudly, 'totally killed your vibe.'

'I guess I had it coming,' you chuckled, trying to flatten your hair again with your hands.

'Yes, you did. And after my lecture yesterday, you still didn't react to my messages this morning,' Sera said, tutting and shaking her head like a disappointed parent.

'Oh, shit, Sera I'm sorry,' you said, quickly pulling out your phone and checking it. You indeed had quite a few unread messages. Sera sighed but smiled.

'It's fine,' she said, waving her hand dismissively. 'I'm just happy you're here and you're fine. Wanna have lunch then?' she asked, pointing with her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the cafeteria. You nodded.

'Where's Adam? You asked her, looking around but not spotting his blonde hair anywhere.

'Class,' Sera said simply, pulling up her nose and shrugging.

The two of you made your way to the cafeteria, chatting about her weekend. By the time you got seated and started eating, the conversation slowly shifted to your weekend.

'So erm, how did your weekend end?' Sera asked, suddenly sounding apprehensive. You looked up, a feeling of suspicion instantly upon you.

'Why do you ask?' You said, slightly sharper than you had intended to. Sera looked away for a second. You could see her chewing the inside of her cheek thoughtfully for a second, an expression on her face that seemed almost doubtful.

'I…' she began, pausing for a moment, then hesitantly continuing as she straightened her back, 'I incidentally saw you arriving this morning. My class was boring and you just happened to be right outside of my window,' she added quickly, hesitating and pausing again. 'I saw you with some guy- a different one I mean,' she said meaningfully, 'Don't get me wrong,' she quickly added, putting her hands up. 'I mean, I just,' she said, her face suddenly becoming quite pink. 'I'm a curious person, okay?' she insisted, her cheeks blushing and nervously scooting over the bench. You could feel yourself holding your breath. 'It's just- I'm normally very good at reading people, but you… You're different. Good different though! Not like I think you're an alien or something,' she giggled nervously. You had never seen Sera like this before. You knew her to be a confident person, resolute. But you wouldn't be thrown off by her behavior, holding your mouth shut and keeping a face of steel. 'It's just, you're a bit unlike other girls our age you know. As I said, for one, you're not addicted to your phone and stuff,' she said, smiling awkwardly and pausing again. Then she suddenly sighed. 'Uhg okay, I'mma just come out with it,' she said suddenly. Your heart felt like it stopped.

'Are you poly?'

'Wh-What?' you asked, blinking.

'You know, polyamourous. In more than one relationship. Like multiple boyfriends,' she pressed on, looking eager now. You scanned her face. This was what she had known, what she had been asking about, hinting at, fishing for. It hadn't been about you, or your divinity, nor the boys or their powers. This was all.

You suddenly started to laugh, unable to help yourself. The apprehension, caution, and fear instantly slipped away from you. She could be trusted. It was safe. You knew. Your Goddess knew.

Sera looked at you uncomfortably, probably slightly startled by your burst of laughter and still waiting anxiously for you to respond.

'I'm sorry,' you chuckled, seeing her stressed face, 'I know what it means, it was just really unexpected that you asked,' you began.

'I'm so sorry,' Sera said quickly. 'I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions, it's just, people and relationships really interest me and I might've watched just one too many dramas and-,' she rattled but you quickly cut her off.

'No Sera, it's fine,' you said as you stopped chuckling and gave her a reassuring smile. You were sure you could tell her. You could see her light now. See it was dim like the other humans, but pure and safe. 'Yes. Yes, you're right,' you answered her question.

Sera looked at you with big eyes and slowly a smug smile appeared on her face.

'I knew it! I swear I fucking knew it. Adam wouldn't listen to me. I mean he doesn't know, I didn't tell him, I was just fishing for information, but that boy can't take a hint,' she said, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. 'But ever since I saw you with Mr. Hwang and then when you left with the other guy at that birthday party,' she said, giving you a meaningful look that told you she had known what you and Minho had been up to back then, 'and then the others. I mean I swear every single time was coincidental okay. It's not like I'm some weird creep who's spying on you, but it just turned out that way, honestly. I wasn't sure if I should say anything because you weren't saying anything and-' Sera babbled on. Clearly, she was completely in her element.

'Well, it is kind of an awkward topic to talk about I guess,' you said truthfully. She instantly shut her mouth and looked at you.

'Oh shit, sorry. You want me to shut up?' she asked quickly. You shook your head smiling.

'Nah, it's fine. Actually, I think it would be nice finally being able to talk to someone about it, to be honest,' you said truthfully.

'Oh thank god, good. Okay,' she said, bending over to you eagerly, 'gimme all the deets.'

'Well, erm, I don't know where to start,' you said, frowning, thinking.

'Okay, so I figured it's at least four or something right?' she said eagerly.

'Erm, eight actually,' you admitted.

'EIGHT?' she exclaimed loudly, her eyes growing big. You kicked her under the table.

'Shut it!' you hissed but giggled, 'I mean I'm fine with you knowing but I don't need the whole school to know.'

'Right, right, right, sorry,' she said, rubbing her painful shin but still looking eager. 'So I guess that means it's all of your roommates then, isn't it?' she asked. You nodded. Sera mouthed a silent "Wow".

'But eight? Really? Isn't that like,' she raised her eyebrows meaningfully and continued in a whisper, 'a lot of work.' You felt yourself blush and she wiggled her eyebrows, leaning back in her seat, your change of color apparently giving her enough of an answer.

'You know, good for you,' she said, putting her hand up in an okay sign and looking smug. 'I mean I can't even deal with one knucklehead now and then, but eight… Pfft kudos to you,' she chuckled.

'Don't you… find it weird?' you asked, feeling awkward yourself now as well. Sera raised her brows and this time it was her turn to laugh at your question.

'Honey, you're asking an adopted pansexual girl with an interracial lesbian immigrant couple as parents. Nothing is weird to me,' she shrugged.

It was hard to believe she really didn't think it was weird, but she seemed to be more curious than judgemental regarding the situation.

The rest of the break she spent bombarding you with eager questions about your relationship with the boys and the dynamics in the house.

By the time the bell rang for your next class, Sera wasn't done asking questions yet.

'I really have to go to class now,' you laughed as you saw Sera racking her brain for another question she could ask quickly before you'd go. Sera pouted.

'You know you can always text me, right?' you chuckled as you got up from your seat and gathered your belongings.

'It's not like you'd answer anyways,' Sera said sticking her tongue out at you playfully. You laughed and were just about to turn around when she grabbed your arm.

'Wait!' She said quickly, sounding eager.

'Wha-hat? I have to goooo,' you said impatiently as many others were leaving.

'Let's go on a double date!' Sera suggested enthusiastically.

'I-what?' you said, taken aback by her question.

'A double date. Or, wait, what do you call it when it's with multiple people? Okay never mind,' she said quickly when she saw your face. 'But please, let's do it. I swear it'll be fun! We can get to know each other, make friends,' she suggested. When she saw your doubtful face she continued. 'Come on, I bet you've never been able to go somewhere on a date with all of them. I promise we'll pick somewhere busy, that way you won't stand out too much.'

You hesitated. You had been to places with all of them, of course. But never really on a date…

'We could do the funfair! It's always super crowded and no one will notice, trust me. The weekend after next? Saturday at eight. We'll meet you at the entrance.'

Before you could object, Sera grabbed your hand and shook it before running off with the leaving masses, leaving you behind slightly bewildered.

You blinked a few times and then chuckled. Sera was unlike anyone you had ever met. But it was nice having a human friend with whom you could be more open and trusting. It'd be nice to feel normal for a bit.

Minho was already standing by the car, waiting to take you home from school. Seeing him from a distance made your heart pound faster. Not just because he always looked so dashing in his brown suit, gray hair, and glasses, but because you were a little scared. He had been sweet to you this morning like he always was, but you had failed him as a goddess. You know how much he treasured you and knew how much you being his goddess meant to him, and you were scared he'd be mad at you for what you had done, or more so the lack thereof. You also knew how much Han meant to him and what it would do to him to see Han so sickly. With all of these thoughts swirling in your head, you took a deep breath and walked up to him.

You were slightly surprised to see that the dark circles around his eyes seemed to have almost disappeared. He looked healthier somehow, even though he'd had a long day of working.

'Hi Lino,' you said with a small voice as you approached him. He gave you a smile and a curt nod, holding the door open for you as you got into the car, but he didn't say anything.

During most of the drive, he was silent, and your heart started to sink again, lower and lower with every silent minute that passed by.

You were just about to say something, anything to break the silence. An apology or any words that could comfort him, tell him you were sorry and would never forgive yourself for what you had done when he suddenly spoke.

'It's not your fault you know,' he said suddenly and softly. You looked over at him somewhat startled. This was the last thing you expected him to say.

'I-what?' you said, feeling dumbstruck.

'You know it's not your fault right?' Minho repeated. 'None of us could've ever seen this coming,' he elaborated. You were silent for a second.

'But it is my fault,' you whispered, looking down at your lap, your heart sinking once more. Minho clicked his tongue.

'If you really wanna blame yourself, go ahead, but know that we don't,' he said simply. 'Honestly, we blame ourselves for not realizing what a mess we are without you,' he added softly. You weren't sure how to respond. You felt quite sheepish, staring out of the window, looking at the streets you passed by. 'We should've known we can't be without you anymore... And we should've called you to come back,' he said, then suddenly he clicked his tongue angrily, smacking his hands irritably against the steering wheel. 'I should've never listened to him!' He said with a sudden intensity, his eyes straight on the road. 'I begged him to call you, but he wouldn't let me. I could barely convince him to let Felix check him out. I don't know how Felix managed to convince him to let Hyunjin check on him as well…' Minho said, grabbing the steering wheel hard until his knuckles went white. You looked at him in shock. You couldn't remember if you had ever seen him so angry. 'He should've just let me call you,' he repeated with clenched teeth. 'It would've never gotten as far as it had. I know he's fine now, but he looked like dog shit,' he grumbled. His anger seemed to die down and he sighed, putting on his blinker and taking a right turn.

You were surprised with Minho's anger, which seemed to be directed at himself. This was not what you expected. You suddenly realized that the look on his face was nothing but a mirror of your own feelings; disappointment, annoyance, and anger, all directed at himself. You wanted to help him, to comfort him, but how could you, as you had no way of stopping yourself from feeling the same way.

'He's doing better now?' you repeated with a small voice, a lame attempt at making him feel better even though you barely did.

'Yeah, he is,' Minho said with a nod. He sounded calm again. You could see him straightening his shoulders and letting out a quiet sigh, as if to breathe out his feelings, before he started speaking again. 'He called me during the break and he seems to be back to normal again,' he said.

'He called you?' you asked, feeling hurt that Han hadn't contacted you in any way.

'Yeah, video call. He looked quite normal again, so don't worry about it, okay? It really wasn't your fault,' Minho said once more. But his words simply made you feel shittier. The fact that Han hadn't contacted you broke your heart. Was he angry with you? But Minho said they didn't blame you, even though you did yourself. Why hadn't he called you? Why?

'Han?' You knocked on his door softly, but there was no response. You knocked again, calling louder this time. Still, no response. You sighed, withdrawing your hand from the door and turning around. But just when you were about to take another step, you changed your mind. You knew Han was in there. You were sure. And according to all the other guys, he was doing fine now, almost like nothing ever happened. And Minho had assured you he wasn't mad at you, although you were mad at yourself. But you knew your heart would not be at ease until you saw him.

You turned around to face the door again. Maybe he was asleep. Maybe that's why he hadn't answered. You could imagine he hadn't slept too well for several days and now that he was better, it might've finally caught up to him.

You weren't one to go into other's rooms if they weren't there. You never really snooped, nor entered without their permission. But this time you didn't care. You had to see him for yourself. You had to be sure he was doing alright.

Slowly and quietly you turned the handle, opening the door to peek inside.

Han was sitting on his bed, his back turned to you as he seemed to be staring out of the window.

'Hannie?' you said his name softly, scared to startle him. He turned his head towards your voice but stopped halfway, showing he was listening but not responding, nor looking at you.

You bit your lip and walked over to him, but as soon as you got close to him he turned his face away from you. You stopped in your tracks, hesitating for a moment. No, you need to talk to him. Pushing through your anxiety you went to sit next to him on the bed.

'Hannie?' you said, repeating his name in a steadier voice this time. He still didn't look at you. You needed to make contact. You could feel your inner Goddess, like she was tapping you on the shoulder, asking you to give her space. You took a deep breath, in and out, and opened your mind.

Although his light shone bright, there was a certain dimness to it. Carefully, you took his hand into yours, caressing it with your thumb.

'I am sorry, Hannie,' you spoke softly, 'for letting you down. For not being there, and not doing my duty properly as your goddess.'

Finally, he turned his face to yours. His green eyes looked at you incredulously.

'How could you say such a thing?' he whispered, shaking his head and frowning. He grabbed the hand that you had used to stroke his tightly with both of his hands. 'Don't you ever say that again,' he said almost angrily. 'Don't you know how it hurts us when you are hurting?' he spoke.

You gave him a sad smile, squeezing his hands for a moment. As Minho had said, he hadn't blamed you for a second.

Suddenly he let go of your hands and turned his face away from yours again.

'It's me…' he whispered suddenly. 'I am the problem… I am… weak.' He said the words painfully, clearly disgusted with himself. It broke your heart. Tears welled up in your eyes.

'Don't you ever say that again,' you repeated his words back to him, your voice trembling with the pain you felt for him.

Han simply huffed, his eyes still locked on the floor. 'You know it's true y/n,' he said bitterly. 'I am weak. I was the only one who got sick, the only one affected so ridiculously. None of the other boys were even close to… my state of being,'

'But they were all sick,' you stopped him before he could continue. 'They told me none of them were feeling right. Everyone was unwell in their own way. Maybe you just didn't see because-'

'-Because I was the sickest of them all?' Han interrupted you. He scoffed. 'Yeah, like I said, none of them were close to being as "lovesick" as I was. Clearly, I am the weakest of the bunch,' he said angrily. 'I mean, I guess I've always known it. I mean look at them, look at their cool powers. Lino being time itself, Chan taking care of souls, Seungmin making this planet liveable, Hyunjin making life worth living. I mean I could go on, but it's clear all their powers are way cooler and way more important than mine. I mean what do I do? I talk to plants. So what? Big deal. Nothing cool or sexy about it. I should just-'

'Han Jisung!' You said his name so loudly and suddenly that he jumped. He instantly turned his head to face you once more, looking at you with big watery green eyes. You had never used his first name with him. From day one he had always been "Han" by his own request or "Hannie" since it sounded like the pet name "Honey" which he enjoyed. 'I won't allow you to talk about yourself like that,' you said sternly. Han simply scowled and was about to look away again when you grabbed both of his hands tightly and continued talking.

'You are everything,' you said to him slowly in a lowered voice, the words now coming from your heart. A small crease appeared between his brows and you continued. 'You are every breath we inhale and exhale. You are the light that keeps us warm and the shade that shelters us. You are the water we drink and the blue skies that we see. You are life,' you said insistently and seriously. You could see Han's jaw tightening, a habit he adopted from Chan. 'You are all of the others, as they are you. And without you, they wouldn't and couldn't be.' Your voice almost turned into a whisper and you paused for a second. You knew he was listening. Not just him, but his aethereal self. You could see how his light responded to your words. But his pained expression and self-doubt weren't gone yet.

'Without you, I wouldn't be,' you whispered to him, softly squeezing his hands. His face started to relax somewhat now. The painful knot in your chest that seemed to mirror his own lessened, even though your watery eyes weren’t dry just yet.

'Hannie,' you said his name once more, his sweet name that you loved to speak so much. His lips quivered for a moment. 'I can still remember back when I wasn't aware yet… The first time I saw your gift…' you said, the words suddenly feeling so emotional that they were hard to speak. 'I remember seeing you, just through the crack of the door, seeing you make that beautiful flower bloom,' you pointed over your shoulder at the plant on his drawers next to the door. 'It was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen,' you whispered as a tear rolled down your face. Han looked at you, his brows slightly raised now, as his eyes were filling with tears too.

'You give life, Hannie,' you said, letting go of his hands and catching a tear on his cheek with your pinky finger. 'How can you forget that?'

'I-I haven't, I just-,' Han stammered as more tears fell from his face.

'You don't have to be cool or sexy. You don't have to be strong either,' you added. 'You just have to be you. You have to remember who you are, what you are. Don't let those human emotions get in your way of knowing how special you are,' you said, shaking your head.

Han nodded in response. The tears that were falling from his face seemed to contain the darkness that was covering his light. You looked into him, seeing his light shining brighter than ever as he softly smiled at you. You smiled back at him and sighed deeply. Your goddess retreated into the shadows once more, knowing that the job was done. You lean over to him, putting your forehead against his, noses aligned and touching. You felt yourself breathing in his scent, and the tears in your eyes finally seemed to dry.

'I've been such a fool, my love,' Han whispered. You smiled softly, your heads still touching. 'I let envy and frustration overtake me. You're right. I guess I forgot who I was there for a moment.'

You slowly withdrew your face from his, smiling at him and seeing him smile at you.

'It's okay Hannie, that's what I'm here for,' you said kindly to him.

'I know, but still, I was acting a little dramatic I guess,' Han said with a sheepish grin, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. 'Having a human part of us sometimes is a little-' he spoke, but suddenly stopped. He turned his head away from you, looked at the door, and frowned. He blinked a few times, then turned his head again, looking at the wall that was separating his room from Minho's. Han raised an eyebrow.

'Han? What is happening?' You asked, feeling apprehensive. Han put up a hand to silence you as he stared at the wall for another second before he looked down at the floor. He scoffed for a moment and then suddenly started laughing.

'Han what-?' you asked again, getting kind of concerned now. But he wasn't listening.

'No way,' he whispered to himself, getting up from the bed, and, for a moment, totally seeming to forget you. He walked a few paces, still looking down, before stopping again and chuckling once more. 'No way!' he laughed before looking at you again with a wide grin.

Startled by his unexpected reaction, you pulled at your goddess for help, but you instantly felt that it would be no use as if you had used up all of your credits for the day. You got up too now.

'Han, what-?' you repeated taking a few steps before it suddenly dawned on you. Han still didn't respond but simply grinned at you. 'Oh,' you breathed. Han simply nodded, understanding that you understood.

WRITERS NOTE

Thank you all so much for your continuous support. I understand that you had to wait for a long time but I simply have too little time to write. 

I try my best to write when I can, and your encouragement, kind words, and fun reactions really make me happy<3

However, I'd like to ask some of you to please understand that rushing or pushing me won't make things go faster and will only make me feel bad :(

I have been working on this series for over two years already, and I am currently working on Chapter 50 (!).

Although I really do love this story, it has been quite difficult, tiring, and time-consuming work (for me as well as for my lovely editors) at some times. I love writing a lot and I post this story for free on multiple platforms because I want everyone to be able to enjoy reading this for free as I too know all too well what it's like to have no money to spare for your hobby or favorite artist (life is expensive ya'll, I know that)

So please, if you enjoy my story, give it a vote or a nice comment, and trust that I will come back with a new chapter for you to love, even though it might take longer than you'd like (trust me, it takes me longer than I would like as well). 

Please remember, that creativity cannot be forced or rushed.

Once again, thank you all so much for all the love, votes and comments, and trust that I will be back with more. I appreciate every single one of you <3

Lots of Love

Dolly

[chamonabis]

Boss bitch 👀

Tell a little about their story. I don't know if anyone would be interested in reading it, but I've wanted to write it for a long time 🥹)

With my OuroAU.

OuroTiger is the boss. He once had a wife, Tomoe. He is cruel, sarcastic and likes to tease and torment his subordinates (can be called S). Even so, he still loved his ex-wife very much, but once his secret was discovered by her, Tomoe committed suicide (I love Tomoe, but sorry😭).

When OuroTiger was 23 years old, both husband and wife adopted a child, Barnaby (current OuroBunny), at that time the boy lost his parents (harmed by Ouroboros), 7 years old.

Gradually growing up, understanding more and knowing "papa's" secret, at the age of 11, Barnaby intentionally let "mom" know "papa's" secret and she was sick, depressed and committed suicide. Barnaby is a bit cruel at this stage, he is a child who has just learned shocking news and is hated, harboring hatred and wanting revenge. OuroTiger knows, hates Barnaby but it's not time to kill him yet (It's beneficial for him because Barnaby have the same NEXT ability as OuroTiger), he orders Maverick to brainwash him, train Barnaby to become a bodyguard.

As he grew older, OuroBunny became more quiet and disliked the old man (Because he started to torture him and didn't love him like before Tomoe died), no longer called "papa", and began working under boss OuroTiger.

OuroTiger also had a painful time losing his wife, then still had to get back up, became more and more crazy and tortured his "son" more, OuroBunny also disliked him, hated him openly but still had to obey his boss's orders. (He's always trying to find out the cause of his biological parents' death, but it's unclear because Maverick brainwashed him.)

Gradually doubting, but not being certain, OuroBunny began to have headaches and chaotic memories. Always by OuroTiger's side, He learns about his past again. As the boss, OuroTiger knew, but still pretended to ignore it, want to see good drama. Gradually working with OuroTiger, OuroBunny got used to standing behind and supporting him and secretly watching him closely, gradually learning many secrets about the death of his biological parents, hatred arose but it was not time to kill OuroTiger (because he never made it all clear and OuroBunny is still suffering from chaotic memories).

At the same time, another feeling sprouted in OuroBunny's heart for the "good father that year" who saved him is still there now (Now covered by hatred).

Side

OuroTiger: black eyes, black hair, darker skin than Tiger (off), he wears glasses because works a lot at the hospital.

OuroBunny: green eyes, blonde hair, already white skin because he only lives hidden in the darkness, no nearsightedness, 5cm taller than boss

On the surface, Kotetsu is very gentle and kind, has a job at the hospital, but cannot save his wife.

Barnaby, with his biological parents' love of robotics, began to learn and when he grew up, he always liked to be alone with the machines. He's a genius, created his first robot at age 15, At the age of 20, he created the first humanoid robot. No matter how much he hated his boss, he unconsciously created a robot with the appearance of OuroTiger, called H-01.

The 23-year-old OuroTiger has been a boss for 2 years, the youngest boss in Ouroboros history.

Kotetsu married Tomoe at the age of 21, Tomoe was in Kotetsu's high school class.

Tomoe was in poor health, and when she was pregnant with her first child, she lost this child (at the age of 22), after which Kotetsu offered to adopt Barnaby as their son. Then 4 years later, she learned that her husband had done many evil things, depression caused her to commit suicide.

Since being brought back by Kotetsu, Barnaby has loved him very much. Although he doesn't know what his feelings are, Barnaby really wants to keep the gentle and funny Kotetsu as his own, not wanting to lose him.

Now,

OuroTiger is 16 years older than OuroBunny.

OuroTiger is 40 years old (3 years older than Tiger)

OuroBunny is 24 years old (2 years younger than Bunny)

[huggyhughesy]

feeling 22

youruser

tagged trevorzegras

liked by trevorzegras, jackhughes, and others

youruser trevor's reaction everytime I've asked him his favorite taylor song the past month ...

seriously, though, happy birthday to my birthday neighbor, bestfriend, and shared boyfriend with jamie <3 love you bubs

load more comments

trevorzegras thank you, babe. love you more everyday, my fellow swiftie

jackhughes i don't get it...

| youruser this is why we can't be friends

| jackhughes you've been saying that for the past 10 years though

| lhughes_06 even I get this one dude

| colecaufield @jackhughes this is quite sad

anaheimducks happy birthday to our favorite march babies!!

jamie.drysdale I thought we agreed that we split him 60/40

| youruser okay, fine.

| trevorzegras who's the 60 and who's the 40?

| masonmctavish23 disturbing you don't know which would be which

| youruser see what I have to deal with??

[dceuheadcanons]

The (main) batfam age gaps (and other timeline things) in this blog's current DC canon:

First off, here are their birth years: Bruce (1997), Dick (2012), Jason (2017), Tim (2020), and Damian (2028).

Bruce and Dick - 15 years (he's Bruce's bio kid, but neither of them actually know. Bruce just had some.. questionable coping mechanisms for an underage kid.)

Bruce and Jason - 20 years, was previously 22 I think? Fun fact, Jason was the longest standing Robin!

Dick and Jason - 5 years, was previously 7. Sometimes 2 depending on the run.

Jason and Tim - 3 years, Tim was 12 when Jason was 15 (aka when he was kidnapped by the Joker in this blog's canon)

Tim and Damian - 8 years. Jason had only been Robin for 2 years when Damian was conceived.

Additional Robin (+ Bruce) timeline:

Bruce became Batman when he was 23 (in 2020) and was 25 when he first adopted Dick (2022), for reference.

Dick was Robin for 3 years. He started at 10 instead of 8 (the most common canon age for his parents' deaths), because I love me some good father-son parallels and Bruce was 10 when HIS parents died.

Jason was Robin from the age of 8 to the age of 15 (when his death was initially faked and Tim replaced him), which is 7 years. He died at 17 (2034) because I've taken pieces of Arkham Knight Jason for his story (he was stuck with Joker for 2 years, not just 1.)

Tim became Robin in 2032, when he was 12, and stayed Robin until Damian came along! Tim was 17 (and has stayed 17 since lol). Which is five years (though Steph did have a little few-month-long Robin moment in the middle). He then became Red Robin, of course! Though he had his own abandonment issues crisis about being replaced by someone "better" than him. He'd just settled into the idea of Bruce actually caring about him, y'know? Only for that all to be ripped away. But that's something for another post!

Damian became Robin when he was 9, in 2037, when Bruce was 40. He's still the current Robin because I haven't really gotten past Bruce being 45 in this blog's canon yet! Hardly any plans for the future! But I do have a few possible storylines for Damian in his teen years going on.

Jason went back to Gotham just a few months before Damian turned up - He'd already had a bit of fun (beating up Tim) but hadn't gotten his full plans in action yet! When Jason and Damian meet as Red Hood and Robin for the first time, Jason actually lights up with recognition. They knew eachother for a few years, in the League! Jason was a bit of a father figure to Damian for those years. I think it's rather sweet!

Okay, so this post is....... A little messy. I just needed a place to put all of this! Hopefully the other admins agree with this timeline and hopefully I didn't fuck any of it up..

[sincerely-sofie]

I'm not sure if you've said this outright but, how old are each of the characters?

Barring the obvious exceptions, Ark and Celebi, I've been trying, and failing, to figure out how old they all were during the events of EOS, it's post-game and TPiaG.

My failure to set concrete ages for the characters as well as neglecting to plot a year-by-year timeline is finally catching up with me.

I never really paid much attention to the cast’s ages beyond being kids vs. adults. The accuracy of a timeline has never been as important to me as telling a story, as long as it mostly makes sense at first glance. I am mathematically challenged, after all. However, I’ve attempted to redeem my past laziness and finally sat down to make a series of checkpoints for the ages of the main cast (those who age, at least) throughout the events of the game and fanfic! I really hope I got the math and events right… As a quick way of calculating people’s ages, I used Twig as a waypoint for everyone else to be based around.

When Twig and Grovyle first encounter each other, they’re very young. I think I said Twig was six years old when she left her bunker in TPiaG itself, but based on how I wrote her as a human, I think I should bump that number up to eight.

Twig: 8

Grovyle (Technically “Treecko” at this point): 16

They join forces with Celebi two years later, and Dusknoir starts tracking them immediately after.

Twig: 10

Grovyle: 18

Dusknoir: 41

At the start of the in-game events of Explorers of Sky, the characters are as follows:

Twig: 13

Kip: 12

Grovyle: 21

Dusknoir: 44

Team Venture graduates from the Guild eight years later, which makes everyone…

Twig: 21

Kip: 20

Grovyle: 29

Dusknoir: 52

The reunion with the Future Trio at the start of TPiaG occurs two years after that.

Twig: 23

Kip: 22

Grovyle: 31

Dusknoir: 54

By the time Twig encounters an amnesiac Darkrai, Kip’s been on his expedition for an additional two years.

Twig: 25

Kip: 24

Grovyle: 33

Dusknoir: 56

Ark goes soul-searching after the end of TPiaG, the main events of which take place across about a year, for one full year. This means by the time he and Twig become housemates again, everyone is as follows—

Twig: 27

Kip: 26

Grovyle: 35

Dusknoir: 58

Twig and Ark enter a romantic relationship three years later.

Twig: 30

Kip: 29

Grovyle: 33

Dusknoir: 61

Opal comes along about two years after that.

Twig: 32

Kip: 31

Grovyle: 40

Dusknoir: 63

This is a very rough timeline, and probably won’t hold up to much scrutiny at all. But I hope this helps make things a little easier to imagine!

[modern-day-bard]

Worth The Feeling

A/n: Hi! This is my first time writing fanfiction and I will admit that the first few chapters are a little rocky, but hang in there and I promise it’s a fun little read. I tried to structure this story as a cutesy, lighthearted romance novel, and I think I found that pace later on. With some of the chapters containing adult content, I would ask that minors do not read or interact with my posts. There is explicit smut and fluff, and some intimidation in a couple of chapters. Other than that and the age gap (MC is 26, Javi is in his 40s), there are no other major trigger warnings. I also purposefully did not give the main character any physical descriptors, other than her being shorter than Javi, because I wanted whoever is reading it to be able to picture themselves. I found it too difficult to write the story from the perspective of “y/n.” I tried to choose a name that was hopefully racially ambiguous enough so anyone could connect with the character. Finally, if you do choose to read my story, thank you and happy reading! Summary: Ava Cohen is a 26-year-old production assistant working tirelessly to achieve her dream of one day becoming a film director. As hiatus from her last project comes to a close, she returns to set with Norwick Productions, whom she has worked with for the past four years. After a major fo paux on the first day of work, Ava is worried she has offended the star of this next production: Javi Gutierrez. She will soon come to realize, this couldn’t be further from the truth. When the cast and crew travel to Italy to film on location, the seriousness of what Ava is feeling becomes all too real, just as a new career opportunity lands in her lap. As tensions run high, watchful eyes set in, and her career is put at stake, can all of this be worth it in the end?

Content Warning: 18+

Chapter 1

I wonder if it's possible to drive with your eyes partially sealed shut. It should be illegal to be awake this early. 4:30am call time on the first day? I've been on more productions than I can count, though I fear this one will finally be the one to take me down. At least this morning we're on the sound stage as opposed to on sight in Italy. Maybe most 26-year-olds would be jumping at the opportunity to fly abroad with all expenses paid. But to me, the thought of being stuck on a steel tin in the sky for any amount of time is enough to make me consider throwing in the towel on this job all together. But I'm not going to think about that right now. I take a deep breath as I pull onto the lot. The first day on set is always the most chaotic. The amount of people who seem to forget how to do their jobs during hiatus grows every time we return. I can't judge of course, because I may soon be one of them. I've been with Norwick Productions since I was 22, and I'm already feeling burnt out after only four years. Granted, the burn out could be due to completing grad school homework until one in the morning, and arriving here before the sun came up. Regardless, my first stop is craft services for coffee. After I'm caffeinated and signed in, my duties pile high. As a Production Assistant, I'm given any and all tasks other employees didn't have time to complete. Sometimes the lack of time to complete the task was due to a lack of desire to complete it, which could lead to some pretty unfortunate chores for me. Picking up dry cleaning, faking tears over the phone to convince the fire department to give us a permit, walking talent's dogs, cleaning up said dog's poop, you name it. I even had to shave our leading lady's armpits. Twice. They take the "other duties as assigned" line on the job application to the extremes.

Talent is arriving in two hours and we still don't have everyone's trailer set up, so that is my first stop. The one thing I pride myself on is that despite being a major movie buff, I had an uncanny ability not to get starstruck. No matter how often their name was trending or how many awards these people have won, I always saw them as part of the crew. Was I a little rattled on my first set? Sure. But when you realize how helpless a lot of these rich actors are, the sparkle sort of wears off.

I typically never got a chance to read the script beforehand. It isn't a requirement of PAs, and in fact, we're not even allowed to see them every time. So until I have the call sheet in hand, I'm not sure who I am setting up these trailers for. And in my dazed need for coffee, I forgot to grab a call sheet (a huge no-no for PAs, but I'll blame it on last night's homework bender). From what I saw inside a few minutes ago, it looks like the first scene has something to do with the CIA. There were giant print-outs of the lettering all over the wall. For now, all I have to go off of is the CIA and the impending doom of travel to Italy in a few weeks. I finish prepping the two lead's trailers with a welcome letter, various snacks, and a copy of today's filming schedule. I check my watch: 6:00am. Still a half hour until they arrive. I tip my head back, taking in as much of my coffee as I can as I head toward the door of the trailer.

I swing the door open, and crash right into something hard. The movement sends my coffee splashing down the front of my shirt and dripping onto my shoes. "Shit." I hiss, looking down at my soaked t-shirt. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry." A sincere male voice causes my head to snap back up. In my sleep-deprivarty, I didn't connect the fact that I had crashed into a person and not a wall. The man in front of me is taking off a pair of sunglasses, a mortified expression on his face. A face that I don't recognize. He's certainly attractive, and possibly in his forties? His dark brows are pulling together in concern, his brown eyes deep with sympathy. A rush of embarrassment creeps up my cheeks as I realize that I had walked directly into his chest when I was trying to leave the trailer. I take a step back so I don't have to crane my head to look up at him. "I'm sorry, I wasn't looking." I say quietly, warmth still coating my cheeks. "You're sorry? Don't be. I wasn't looking either." He steps inside, ducking his tall frame under the door to enter. "And your poor shirt..." He gestures to my now semi-sheer t-shirt. I put my coffee down on the small table and cross my arms over my chest. "You don't have to worry about this trailer," I say, changing the subject. "I already prepped it." "Oh, uh, thank you." He looks confused now, and he starts shrugging off a backpack I didn't realize he was carrying. He tosses the bag on one of the chairs at the table. I notice he doesn't have a walkie either. He must be new, and sure to get a talking to by Lloyd if he's dumping his stuff in a talent trailer and strolling around without a walkie. "When were you hired?" I keep my tone casual, conversational. I find that I can deal with embarrassment better if I keep the other person talking. "About five months ago, I think." He starts to run his hand across the table between us, watching his own movements carefully. I get the sense that he's trying not to look at me. "Well, welcome aboard. I should warn you that the director is pretty strict about PAs walking around without walkies. Trust me, I got my ass handed to me during my first week. Super embarrassing." I roll my eyes for emphasis. He looks up at me then, his smile warm, and his tone carries a humor that I don't quite understand when he says, "Thank you. I'll keep it in mind." "No problem. Oh, and I'm Ava." I extend my hand and he takes it. His hand envelopes mine, and I realize in that moment that he is quite a bit larger than me. This realization, combined with the warmth on his palm makes me feel funny. "I'm Javi." He smiles again. "Good to meet you," I say, taking my hand back to check my watch once more. "Talent should be arriving soon so wherever you need to be, I would head over there now." I walk toward the door as I say it, taking extra care when opening the door this time. "I'm sorry again, Ava." He calls after me, his voice still just as sincere as the first time he apologized. "Don't worry about it!" I call back, closing the door behind me. I take the few steps down from the trailer, breathing a sigh of relief to be out of that moment. However, that sigh gets sucked back down my throat when I see the two words in bold on the front of the trailer I just left. Javi Gutierrez

And if my cheeks were red before, now they are maroon.

Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

[magnetothemagnificent]

I guess it's time I share my list of birds from this past Jewish year (I've been keeping two Big Year lists, Jewish year and secular year). All are from the US, except the last few which are indicated.

1. Ruby-crowned kinglet

2. American Robin

* Leucistic American Robin

3. Song sparrow

4. Rock pigeon

* Melanistic rock pigeon

5. Chipping sparrow

6. Hairy woodpecker

7. Mourning dove

8. Northern flicker

9. Eastern towhee

10. White crowned sparrow

11. White-throated sparrow

12 Savannah sparrow

13. House sparrow

14. European starling

15. American Crow

16. Common Raven

17. Gray catbird

18. Northern mockingbird

19. Canada Goose

20. Spotted Sandpiper

21. American herring gull

22. Marsh wren

23. Limpkin

24. Great white heron

25. Cattle egret

26. Anhinga

27. Snowy egret

28. Great blue heron

29. Black-crowned night heron

30. Wood stork

31. Common gallinule

32. Blue-gray gnatcatcher

33. Turkey vulture

34. Black vulture

35. Yellow rumped warbler

36. Tufted titmouse

37. Little blue heron

38. White ibis

39. Cooper's hawk

40. Cardinal

41. Green heron

42. Carolina wren

43. Palm warbler

44. Pine warbler

45. Sandhill crane

46. Carolina chickadee

47. Bluejay

48. Osprey

49. Chimney swift

50. Red-tailed hawk

51. Prairie warbler

52. American kestrel

53. Glossy ibis

54. Pied-billed grebe

55. Double-crested cormorant

56. Grey kingbird

57. Brown pelican

58. Fish crow

59. Royal tern

60. Bald eagle

61. Painted bunting

62. American white pelican

63. Common grackle

64. Boat-tailed grackle

65. Great-tailed grackle

66. American purple gallinule

67. American coot

68. Brown-headed cowbird

69. Tricolored heron

70. Mallard

71. Black-bellied whistling duck

72. Eastern kingbird

73. Yellow-billed cuckoo

74. Muscovy duck

75. American bittern

76. Ring-billed gull

77. American Pekin

78. Mallard-Pekin hybrid

79. Eastern bluebird

80. Yellow-bellied sapsucker

81. Red-winged blackbird

82. White-eyed vireo

83. Mottled duck

84. Broad-winged hawk

85. Dark-eyed junco

86. Brown thrasher

87. Sharp-shinned hawk

88. House finch

89. Eastern Phoebe

90. Downy woodpecker

91. Fox sparrow

92. Loggerhead Shrike!!!!

93. White breasted nuthatch

94. Red-bellied woodpecker

95. Brown creeper

96. Pileated woodpecker

97. American goldfinch

98. House wren

99. Barn swallow

100. Tree swallow

101. Black and white warbler

102. Red eyed vireo

103. Yellow warbler

104. Mute swan

105. Rusty blackbird

106. Common yellowthroat

107. Warbling vireo

108. Northern waterthrush

109. Veery

110. Swamp sparrow

111. Wood duck

112. American redstart

113. Orchard oriole

114. Greater Yellowlegs

115. Lesser Yellowlegs

116. Baltimore oriole

117. Hermit thrush

118. Wood thrush

119. Ovenbird

120. Indigo bunting

121. Black-throated blue warbler

122. Scarlet tanager

123. Worm-eating warbler

124. Northern rough-winged swallow

125. Blue-headed vireo

126. Northern parula

127. Prothonotary warbler

128. Philadelphia vireo

129. Blackburnian warbler

130. Magnolia warbler

131. Cedar waxwing

132. Blackpoll warbler

133. Yellow-throated vireo

134. Eastern wood pewee

135. Acadian flycatcher

136. Tennessee warbler

137. Caspian tern

138. Laughing gull

139. Forster's tern

140. American oystercatcher

141. Green-winged teal

142. Purple Martin

143. Least tern

144. Field sparrow

145. Killdeer

146. Grey-cheeked thrush

147. Rose-breasted grosbeak

148. Great-crested flycatcher

149. Swainson's thrush

150. Bay-breasted warbler

151. Chestnut-sided warbler

152. Willow flycatcher

153. Ruby-throated hummingbird

154. Peregrine falcon

155. Hooded crow IL

156. Laughing dove IL

157. Eurasian collared dove IL

158. Eurasian jackdaw IL

159. Common myna IL

160. Rose-ringed parakeet IL

161. White spectacled bulbul IL

162. European bee eater IL

163. Chukar IL

164. Short toed snake eagle IL

165. White stork IL

166. Little egret IL

167. Pygmy cormorant IL

168. Eurasian hoopoe IL

169. Alpine swift IL

170. Graceful pinia IL

171. Eastern Olivaceous Warbler IL

172. Tristan's Starling IL

173. Fan tailed raven IL

174. Eurasian black cap IL

Here's to at least 200 next year!