#I’ll do a 7 year nap instead

[skyloftian-nutcase]

I want to take a 100 year nap, Wild, move over.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 6 - I've Been Searching for a Fortified Defense

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: As we begin our first 5-digit word count chapter (I can’t be stopped, someone take away my keyboard) and I find a stride of about two chapters per week, I want to say that: A) I fully intend on finishing this story. I plotted out the whole thing before I started, have made a few adjustments given the pacing I’ve done so far, and with how it’s broken down right now we’ll reach the end in 2-3 months. B) Thank y’all from the bottom of my heart for reading! If you have theories or thoughts or feedback please don’t hesitate to share them! I love hearing what you think of the plot and the characters, and every interaction means the world to me. Whether you’re only reading or leaving comments as well, thank you so damn much. I’ll see you next chapter (it’s gonna be a doozy) <3

Chapter Title from Bells in Santa Fe by Halsey.

Word Count: 11.2k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: You throw a punch, and Phase One: Operation Quick and Bald goes. Not well, but it goes. Contains usual tags.

Read on A03!

Chapter 5 - Chapter 7

Taglist: @lordofthunderthr @kritara

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Ben dodged the third punch in a row, grinning widely right up until the fourth one landed on his face.

“Ha!” She yelled, drawing back to shake her first out. “Take that, you weirdly fast man.”

Ben rolled his eyes, rubbing his face lightly. It hadn’t hurt—he’d barely even felt it—but She was being real fucking smug for someone who’d only just landed a hit after a damn week of attempting to do so.

“Yeah, sure, Sunshine. Keep it the fuck up, and at this rate it’ll only take you another couple thousand years to surpass Muhammad Ali.”

She raised her brows at Ben, pausing with a tilt of her head. “You were a fan of Muhammad Ali?”

He nodded, giving her a scrunched look of annoyance. “I’m a fucking American, and there ain’t nothing more red-blooded American than punching commies like that son of a bitch did.”

“What?”

“When he fought the Russian, and won. That’s fucking American.”

“Ben, you’re thinking of the plot of Rocky IV.”

“No, Muhammad Ali fought that Russian pussy and kicked his fucking ass.”

“No, Sylvester Stallone fought the Russian pussy and kicked his fucking ass. In a movie.” She laughed to herself. “I’m shocked you even saw Rocky IV, let alone were so impacted by it to let the plot override your knowledge of a real life person.”

“Shut up,” Ben grunted, moving his hands back to a defensive stance. She fucking always won these stupid arguments, and Ben couldn’t actually prove it, but he knew She was changing the fucking internet she loved so damn much to match her claims. “Go again.”

“Someone missed nap time.” She muttered under her breath, even though she knew Ben could fucking hear her, but put her fists up anyways. “Can this be the last one? I’m hungry.”

Instead of answering, Ben just launched himself at her, and She jumped to the side with a yelp.

“What the fuck, Ben!”

He turned and threw another punch, feeling pleased at the smooth way she ducked away and met it with a punch of her own. Her face had lost the pissy shock, laser-sharp concentration replacing it. Her eyes were narrowed, darting across Ben as he moved, her bobbing and weaving wasn’t entirely shit, and her heart was controlled with her breathing. She landed her second punch, this one on his shoulder, and Ben laughed, delivering one of his own.

“Christ, Sunshine, you’re fucking weak.” He laughed, examining Her carefully for any loss of control.

“I’ll kill you with my bare hands, Bitch.” She growled, lunging forward and grunting in frustration as Ben dodged with ease.

“That’s my line.” He taunted. “And you couldn’t even kill a man with an assault rifle if he was a fucking foot away from you.”

“Blow me.”

“I’ve been fucking trying- Fuck!” She landed her third punch, and it burned. Ben reached to touch where she’d hit and felt the skin mending across his jaw.

She was grinning in a wide, toothy, satisfied way. “Suck on that, cunt.”

“Bitch,” he muttered, looking down at his hand to see it raw and red from the contact with his face, with some of his fucking hair stuck to it.

“Did you burn off my fucking beard!” His head shot up to see a half-sheepish, half-amused look on her face, lips curled and eyes wide.

“Oops.”

He yelled her name, and she had the fucking nerve to giggle. “We said no fucking powers!”

“I forgot.” She said lamely, her face less and less apologetic by the second, giggling again as she offered some of the most insincere comfort Ben had ever heard. “It’s not even that noticeable! You look just as good as before!”

His anger faded, and he gave Her a cocky smirk, raising his brows. “You think I look good, Sunshine?”

“I’m being nice. Don’t ruin it.” She muttered, her face adorably flushed, and Ben didn’t miss the skip of her heart.

“Whatever keeps you up at night.”

“That’s not the phrase.”

He winked. “I know.”

She scoffed and turned away, but not before Ben could see the slight smile on her lips. “I’m going to shower, I’ll meet you in the living room in fifteen. If you’re not there, with food, I’m eating the TV.”

Ben frowned, calling after Her figure moving down the hall. “Has the TV been edible this whole fucking time and you didn’t fucking tell me?!”

Her laughter echoed back down the hall. "You're real fucking gullible, grampa!"

“You know I can’t fucking tell when you’re joking about that shit, you bitch!”

“Fourteen minutes, cunt!”

“How the fuck am I supposed to make food in fourteen minutes?!”

“You’re a big boy, you’ll figure it out!”

Grumbling a string of cusses Ben hoped She could fucking feel, Ben grabbed a cup of instant noodles and threw them in the microwave, wondering if She would notice if he spit in hers. After pulling them out, grabbing two spoons from the counter that he almost immediately bent, spilling one of the cups as he noticed the damaged utensils, spilling the other when he noticed the first spill, and having to start the whole damned fucking thing over, Ben made his way to drop on the couch next to where She sat, wet hair clinging to her pretty face.

“Heard a lot of swearing, Pretty Boy, everything ok?”

He grunted, shoving Her noodles against her chest and letting go, not giving a fuck if she had a grip on them. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Just asking a question,” he could hear her shit-eating grin. “Thought it was a free country. Thought a patriot like you would appreciate me exercising my first amendment right.”

“That protects you from the government, not me.” Ben parroted back the words She had yelled at him after he’d made the apparently fucking fatal mistake of saying “first amendment right” in her presence.

She chuckled, her voice teasing. “Didn’t know you were capable of retaining information about something other than yourself.”

“Well, your tits were looking great while you were bitching. It helped.” He grabbed the remote, raising it to the TV. “I made food. I’m picking what we watch.”

“If you pick Game of Thrones so you can watch the sex scenes again, I’m figuring out a way to kill myself and doing it on your bed.”

“Whatever gets you in my bed, Sunshine.” He winked. “And I’m invested in the fucking plot, it’s not just the sex scenes.”

“It’s mostly the sex scenes.” She said, not even flinching at his flirtation. “Just go watch porn. See how fast you can break the fleshlights. If you do all three in ten minutes, Butcher owes me twenty dollars.”

Ben scowled, not enjoying that She’d apparently been making fucking bets with Butcher about his masturbation. “I can last longer than ten fucking minutes, I’m not a fucking pussy.”

“Prove it.”

He grinned widely at Her as her face flushed adorably, her own phrasing catching up with her head. “I’d be honored, Sunshine.”

“You’re like a fucking rabbit in heat.” She muttered. “And if you do last longer than ten, Hughie gets the money, so keep that in mind when you’re jerking it to dragon boobs after I go to bed.”

“The dragons don’t have any fucking boobs, dumbass, the fucking hot lady queens do.” Ben said smugly, ignoring her eye roll. “And I would ‘jerk it’ in the privacy of my room, but someone won’t give me a fucking phone.”

“Yeah, the CIA. I’d actually back you up with Mallory, Pretty Boy. I think giving you a phone would be really entertaining.”

“I don’t need your fucking help.” He snapped, and she laughed.

“Can’t rely on just a handsome face to convince her that you somehow deserve the internet.”

“Handsome face?” He grinned at her, and only the slight stutter of her heart told Ben she heard him.

She made a mock face of thought. “Maybe if we suggested parental controls…”

“I’ll kill you, bitch.”

“I’ll make you the most useless and sad eunuch to ever grace this sorry planet, cunt.”

Ben glared at Her, and she reached over his arm to press play on the remote.

Most of the days since the failed Sister Sage mission had been like this. She and Ben got up, trained, ate, trained more, and then watched TV with dinner until She retreated to her room and Ben fought sleep for the rest of the night, alone. Neither of them mentioned how he’d saved her, or how She had started a habit of slapping Ben awake—he was pretty fucking certain that at this point she had figured out another way to break through the nightmares but was purposely choosing to fucking hit him instead—before she’d sit next to him for an hour or two after. Ben liked this unspoken arrangement, and liked even more how She had silently agreed to it. Just because he didn’t actively hate Her right now didn’t mean he was about become a sniveling pussy mess about feelings. Even if the lack of active hatred had morphed into something pulsing in his chest that he didn’t understand, and didn't fucking want to. Making Her instant noodles and not killing her when she lied to him for fun or called him “Pretty Boy” was as far as Ben would bend.

It had been mostly radio silence from the Boys, though Butcher and Cocksucker had visited two days after they’d dropped Her and Ben back at the safe house, as Cocksucker had managed to break his arm. There had been a long, incredibly boring and poorly told story as to how the injury had occurred, involving a supe, Nikola Tesla and something called a Cybertruck, but Ben had pretty much tuned out the entire fucking conversation once he realized they weren’t here for him at all. The only thing that had kept him from retreating to his room for the duration of the visit was the small falter in Her heart when she touched Cocksucker, her jaw clenched as Ben and Butcher watched Cocksucker’s arm heal into place in a fucking disgusting manner.

When She’d let go, she’d given Ben a weird fucking look with tight lips and sad eyes that he'd only seen before on Cocksucker. It had passed quickly, her face returning to apathetic and bored, her eyes regaining the sharp amusement they usually held, but fuck it had confused him. She and Butcher had started talking about missions and planning and other mind-numbing shit, Cocksucker shaking out his arm as if he didn’t trust that it was healed, and Ben had needed to piss and gone to do just that. Before he’d left, he’d caught Her a look of where the hell are you’d going, he’d grinned back with a wink of why, you want to join me?, and she’d rolled her eyes and returned her attention to Butcher. When he’d returned, Butcher and Cocksucker had left and She was glaring at him, arms across her chest.

“Are you an idiot, or just a dick?” She’d snapped.

He’d frowned at Her, trying to figure out what had made her all fucking bitchy. As far as Ben was concerned, he’d been fucking amazing, only calling Butcher a pussy twice and managing to refrain from talking to Cocksucker at all. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Butcher told me we’re moving on operation Quick and Bald soon. He told me you knew. Why didn’t you fucking tell me?!”

“Oh,” Ben had rolled his eyes. “I forgot.”

“You forgot?”

He’d shrugged. “Well, you fucking know now, so get over it. And what kind of fucking shit codename is Quick and Bald?”

“Fuck you, it’s an accurate and descriptive name.”

“How the fuck could that be ‘accurate and descriptive’?”

“Because two key factors of this phase of my plan are the quick and the bald.”

“Your plan?”

“Yeah, my fucking plan. That I fucking deserved to know the status of.” She’d scowled. “Butcher says it’s almost ready. He’ll get us in two days once it’s in place.”

That had been five days ago. Starlight and Cocksucker had dropped in after two days, full of apologies and updates that Ben didn’t give a fuck about, and when he’d asked Her for more information about the plan, she’d told him to “suck her dick and shove his questions up his ass until they reached his brain.”

So Ben still had no fucking clue what Quick and Bald was about.

Aside from Her lingering anger at him for apparently having the fucking nerve to ask questions about the jobs he had to do—an opinion he had made the mistake of voicing, leading the unwelcome lesson on the first amendment—She was being impossibly easy to talk to, and Ben was getting dangerously close to not only enjoying her company, but finding her comfortable. Part of him was hoping she’d say something very, very soon that would allow him to grip onto hatred, or at least indifference, for the rest of his time in this stupid fucking situation.

Instead, in a way that made Ben think God himself was out to fucking get him, he’d started to tell her things. Fucking voluntarily.

One of those nights where sleep had gripped his head and pulled him under, struggling and roaring, he’d woken up once more from only the force and sting of her hand across his face. She’d sat next to him again, and he’d asked her more questions about before, all of which she’d answered with a faraway, insufferably sad look in her eyes.

“How many siblings did you fucking have again?” He’d pressed once.

“Four,” She’d responded, a wistful smile on her face. “Two brothers, two sisters. All younger.”

“Your parents had four more kids after you? What, were you that fucking annoying they needed to try again four fucking times?”

“No, I was just so adorable they needed to try and recreate my perfection. Once they realized that was impossible, they gave up.” She’d smirked, and Ben hated that somehow he didn’t doubt her words. “Well,” she’d mused to herself. “That and they fell violently out of love with each other.”

“Violently?” He’d made a face, and she’d nodded solemnly.

“I shielded my siblings from a lot of flying plates.”

Ben found another thing to hate. Her parents, and how fucking sad she looked. “You miss them?”

“My parents?” She’d snorted. “I miss my dad. I hope my mom gets her head popped.”

He’d coughed to cover a laugh. “No, you fucking smartass. Your siblings.”

Her answer was quick and soft. “Every fucking day.”

Ben had grunted, watching the distance return to her face, and before he could stop himself, he was talking. “I didn’t have any siblings.”

Before he could curse himself out and try to distract Her with something else, she had been looking back at him with wide, focused eyes. “Do you wish you did?”

“I never thought about it,” he’d muttered. “My father was such a fucking dick I’m surprised he even got my mother to marry him, let alone fucking have one kid. I think he hated me enough to never fucking risk it again.”

“Risk it?” She’d kept her voice impossibly gentle as she’d asked, and it made his skin crawl all weird.

“I was the biggest fucking regret of his life. If he could go back and stop me from happening in the first place, make my mother flush me out, he wouldn’t have fucking hesitated.”

She’d paused, and a very fucking stupid part of Ben had thought she was going to let the conversation go. Of course, he should’ve fucking known by now that She damn well wouldn’t.

“What was your mom like?”

He hadn’t fucking expected that, and it had shocked him enough to answer. “Kind. Too kind for my father, he saw it as fucking weakness and told her all the fucking time. But she was so fucking kind.” He took a heavy breath. “She was full of love, and I have no fucking clue how. It was fucking stupid, all her love, even for my piece of shit father. He’d yell at her and threaten her and mock her, but she still fucking loved him. She fucking loved everything.”

Her voice was still gentle from beside him. “Like what?”

“Animals. Cats specifically. My father had all these fucking hunting dogs he loved more than anything, certainly more than me, and the only good thing he ever fucking did was trade one to get her a cat. It was massive, fluffy and gray, and it was a fucking asshole to everyone but her. It ate like a fucking elephant, shed like a whore in summer, but she loved it so fucking much.” At this point Ben had really wished he would shut the fuck up, but he couldn’t, and he was going to have to figure out a way to blame Her for that later. “She loved art. Painting. She tried to get me to love it too, even though I could barely draw a fucking worm. But I’d try, and she’d frame all my stupid, shitty drawings and hang them around the house until my father saw them and threw them in the trash. She loved music but couldn’t carry a tune if her life fucking depended on it. They’d go to the opera because my father would donate a ton for the publicity, and she’d come back all damn giddy. I’d wait up, just because she was fucking contagious when she was that happy. Even my father felt it, enough to just go straight to bed and not kick my ass for still being awake. She was fucking smart, too. Real fucking smart. My father would joke he wished she was a man, because then her brain would be useful. She would’ve fucking jumped for joy if she saw the world now. Met a fucking woman doctor.” He paused, looking back down at Her beside him. She hadn’t looked away from him, and there was none of the pity he’d expected to see on her face. It was just open, listening intently to his words with no malice or trickery behind her eyes.

“She sounds amazing.” She’d said softly, a small smile he didn’t understand on her face. “And your dad sounds like a fucking cunt.”

Ben had chuckled in surprise. “Fucking understatement of the damn year, Sunshine. That pussy would’ve tried to pry your degree from your fucking hands.”

“Let him try, I’d burn his fucking face off and laugh while I did it.”

“What were you even going to fucking do with a PhD in archeology?" He’d asked, and she’d huffed a small laugh.

“Anthropology, Pretty Boy. But nice guess.” She corrected. “And I’m honestly not sure. I’d quite literarily only just actually received the degree before everything… changed.” She’d sighed. “I had a few job offers, but mostly in academia and business. What I wanted was to work with nonprofits to help people.”

“Help people?” He’d given her a disbelieving stare. “With a prissy fucking degree?”

“Yeah, dickwad. Help people. I was a cultural anthropologist. I specialized in the evolution of cultures and ways to combat systemic cultural oppression.”

He’d stared at Her blankly. “You’re going to have to take down the fucking fancy talk by seven, Sunshine.”

“I studied how the government and culture is mean to people on purpose, and how to make them stop being mean.” She’d said flatly.

“Oh.” He’d rolled his eyes at the dirty look she was giving him. “Oh, fuck off. It wasn’t that painful to say.”

“Yes, it was.” She’d mumbled, narrowing her eyes at him. “You’re not going to argue with me?”

“What’s there to fucking argue about?”

“I just called your beloved country an ‘oppressive system’.” She’d watched him wearily, but her heart remained steady. “Doesn’t it mar your refined American nationalism?”

“Do you fucking want me to be mad?” Ben had asked, raising his brows at her. “I can definitely find it in me, that’s not a fucking issue. But usually when we fight about this shit, you get all bitchy and don’t talk to me for way too fucking long.”

“I mean, no, I don’t want you to get mad…” She’d frowned, examining him with yet another fucking confusing look. “Does it really bother you when I ignore you?”

“No.” He’d snapped quickly. “It’s just annoying, and I don’t like having to fucking deal with it.”

She’d hummed with an amused smile on her face, and the conversation had moved on to something else. Ben had shoved down the way it had been so easy to talk about his mother with her, until it was somewhere in his gut and he didn’t have to think about the way the feeling rolled around inside him.

And he refused to even acknowledge how when She would smile now, he’d have to fight himself to not do the same.

———-

It had been a week since the Sage incident, a week since Ben had saved your life—you'd locked everything about that particular action from what you thought of it to how it made you feel somewhere deep in your chest—and you were starting to lose your mind a little bit. When Annie and Hughie had stopped by with nervous words about delays in your meticulously prepared and incredibly well-detailed plan, you’d been willing to wait another day, maybe two, before executing operation Quick and Bald. Now it had been three days, burgeoning on four, and you were worryingly close to leaving the safe house just to yell at Butcher. Ben could stay here, or follow you and help you beat Butcher up for all you cared. Which was, admittedly, worrying within itself. Especially because the whole point of operation Quick and Bald was to take preventative measures against Ben’s needless brutality.

Over a month ago, right after you’d moved into the safe house and when you had been ready to throttle Ben’s neck every waking moment—an urge that hadn’t entirely waned, but was now undercut with a weirder, stronger urge to be near him without any murderous intent—you’d spent the hours quarantined in your room perfecting your plan to get Ryan Butcher the fuck out of dodge. When they’d come to pick you and Ben up for the whole Neuman test, you’d left it in the van for Butcher to find, and had been waiting since for him to set up the dominoes so you could knock them over.

At this point, you’d be happy with not even “dominos to knock over” and just “one singular domino to throw at someone." You had begun to develop a habit of staring down the hall from the living room, trying to will someone to appear with at least a fucking update. So far this strategy was not working, and had apparently started to garner attention.

Sitting on the couch, the TV white noise in the background and noodles in your hand cold and forgotten, you felt a foreign rush of oddly tight concern run through your body. You frowned, heard your name from next to you, and turned to find that Ben had been poking your arm.

“Are you fucking alive?” He grunted, watching you with a frown.

“Literally? Yes.” You answered with a tight smile. “You have noodles on your face.”

He reached up to feel for them, not looking away from you. “What the fuck do you mean literally? How can you be fucking metaphorically alive?”

“Mind-body problem, Pretty Boy. And it’s not metaphorically, it’s philosophically.” You lean back, grinning.

“You’re a real fucking pretentious bitch sometimes.” He grumbled, still trying to find the food stuck to his beard.

“If you made me a shirt that said that, I’d wear it.”

“I’m not going to fucking make you a shirt, Sunshine. You couldn’t make me learn to fucking sow with a gun to my head.”

“Because the gun wouldn’t affect you at all?” You pointed to your own chin, mirroring where the noodle was caught.

He sneered. “Because I’m not a pussy.” His hand found the stray piece of his dinner, and he pulled it from his jaw.

“Big words from the man who took two tries to make me instant ramen- hey!” A wet noodle hits you in the face.

“Ramen your ungrateful ass didn’t even fucking eat.” Ben gave a pointed look at the abandoned cup in your hands, the food inside having long lost any heat. “Don’t fucking test me, or I’ll actually spit in your food next time.”

“Drama queen,” you muttered, peeking back at the door. “Like you don’t already do that.”

“I fight the urge to be a fucking bitch, unlike certain women.”

You nod absentmindedly. “Butcher.”

Ben snorted behind you, and a smile you hoped he didn’t see crept onto your face.

“Yeah, sure Sunshine.” His attention returned to the TV, and you did your best to not stare down the hall, trying to ignore the hope that the door now shrouded in darkness would open.

A successful effort that made you jump out of your seat when it did just that with an aggressive bang.

Ben was faster than you, practically launching himself over the sofa and bolting down the hall, a dangerous look of alarm the last thing you saw on his face before he was gone from the room.

“Shit, no! It’s me!” You heard a high-pitched shout from the shadows of the entrance. “It’s Hughie!”

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” You heard Ben’s growl of a response.

Butcher’s voice drawled from the shadows. “Oi, take a deep fucking breath and put the bloody kid down.” 

“Someone fucking answer me first.”

“Put him down, Soldier Boy, before we knock your ancient ass the fuck out.” The impatient, clipped words of MM responded, almost drowned out by Frenchie's shout.

“Can someone turn on the fucking lights? It is as dark as Monsieur Butcher’s heart and asshole!” 

“I- I don’t feel good.” Hughie’s voice stuttered.

“Ben!” You flicked on the hallway sconces, illuminating a scene of Ben’s full body weight pressing Hughie to the wall, Butcher and MM trying with practically negative success to pry him off, and Kimiko gripping one of Frenchie’s arms as his other groped around for direction. You let out a very long, very loud sigh. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“It’s fucking late,” he snapped, not letting Hughie go. “They shouldn’t be here so fucking late.”

“This ain’t your real house, Mate.” Butcher grunted, still trying to move Ben. “We can be here whenever we bloody well please.”

Hughie wheezed out your name in a pleading tone. “Your plan is ready. We’re here to- fuck- we’re here to get you.”

That got you moving, crossing to the end of the hall in quick, frantic steps. “It’s ready? Are you sure?” Hughie gave a weak nod, and you rolled your eyes, shoving Ben shoulder. “Put him down, dumbass. He’s not a threat, and honestly, probably the worst one to have gone after. Just, like, strategically.”

Ben glared at you, but let go. He glanced at where MM and Butcher were still grabbing him, and gave them a venomous look that got them both to let go and take hasty steps back. He shot a glowering look of they could’ve fucking waited until the morning in your direction.

You wrinkled your nose at him. No. Shut the fuck up. You turned to Hughie, not even bothering to hide the desperation you felt in your imploring stare. “It’s all ready? All of it? A-Train agreed to help? We’re sure Ashley has the information? We’re sure neither one is going to tell Homelander, and we’re not about to walk into a fucking trap?”

“Yes, yes, yes, kind of, and yes.” Butcher counted off on his fingers as he answered. “But we’ve got to go right fucking now.”

“Kind of?” Anxious energy rushed through you—that still-strange feeling lighting under your skin—and you ignored the weird look Ben shot you as it did. “What do you mean, kind of? If you fucked this up, Butcher, I swear to God-"

“Calm the fuck down, Love.” Butcher snapped. “It’s going to be fine, we’ll explain on the way. But we need to go fucking now if you want this to work.”

You gave a sharp nod, starting to pull on your boot, glancing up with a pause when you heard Hughie say your name behind you.

“Do you, uh, do you want to get dressed first?” His voice was still slightly weak as he recovered from Ben’s force.

You glanced down at your body, and decided that the oversized shirt and cloth shorts would be fine. They were from the CIA spring fire-proof collection, and that was more than enough. “Nope. Let’s fucking move.”

You were halfway to the door when a crash sounded behind you, and you whirled around to see MM firmly blocking Ben’s path, the crash seeming to have been Hughie stumbling into the wall in an attempt to get away from the standoff.

“You’re not coming, Soldier Boy. This is a goddamn delicate operation, and you’re the fucking reason we have to do it in the first place. We can’t afford you throwing a tantrum and screwing us.”

“I’m fucking coming, and it’s not up for fucking debate.”

Off to the side, Frenchie snickered as Kimiko signed how many times do you think he’s said that before?

Ben shot them an annoyed look, his fists clenching. “What’s so fucking funny?”

“Nothing,” Frenchie snickered, and his tone was so remarkably unconvincing that even if you hadn’t understood Kimiko, you wouldn’t have believed him.

Ben grunted and tried to move past MM, again to no avail.

He glared down at the firmly planted man, a familiar violent glint in his eyes. “You better fucking move now, before I make you.”

“Do your fucking worst, we’ll put you right back in the box. You’re not coming with us.”

“MM,” you said firmly, watching Ben's fists clench as the dangerous glint returns to his eyes. “We need to go.”

MM looks back at you, but remains in his place. “Are you fucking serious? You’re siding with him?”

“I’m not siding with him.” You keep your voice level, ignoring Ben’s smug face and grin. “We can’t leave him. The I go where he goes thing unfortunately goes both ways.”

“The safe house will hold him for five hours.” MM pushed, and before you could even shake your head, Ben cut in.=

"No, it won’t.”

You shoot him a look that says you’re being unhelpful, and he just returns it with his own of fuck off, you know you fucking want me there.

“Please, MM. He’ll stay quiet in the background, or I’ll burn his dick off. Right?” You direct your last words at Ben, giving him a pointed agree with me or I’m knocking you out and leaving you here look.

“Yeah, whatever. But I’m not staying in the fucking van like a pussy. And you’d better explain what the fuck is happening on the way, Sunshine.”

“Deal. But first they,” You narrowed your eyes at Butcher. “Have some explaining of their own to do.”

“Don’t lose your bloody mind, Love, it’s all in order.” Butcher said breezily, shoving past you to open the door. He gave a dramatic wave of his arm for you to exit, and with a look of doubt, you did.

The car ride was already poised to be uncomfortable. Butcher’s car was not equipped for seven people, let alone seven people where three were very large men, three were supes, and nobody wanted to have physical contact with two. As such, Butcher drove, MM sat in the front, you found yourself squished against one window with Ben between you and a remarkably uncomfortable Hughie, as Kimiko sat, slightly elevated onto their laps, between Frenchie at the other window, and Hughie. It was overall an unideal situation, made worse as your own frustration was amplified by Ben’s, and by Hughie revealing that it was, in fact, not all in order.

Your phase one, the original operation Quick and Bald had called for Ashley Barrett’s complete cooperation. You’d even painstakingly outlined all the potential ways to flip her—most involving something along the lines of hey, wouldn’t a job that didn’t make you so stressed you rip out all your hair and have to buy a bunch of wigs be nice?—and different ways to keep Homelander from finding out about her betrayal—Spain was lovely this time of year, and had a thriving BDSM community Ashley would love. While MM had managed to take care of your instructions for A-Train, the half of the plan you’d incorrectly anticipated to be more difficult, the Ashley situation was, in Butcher’s words, very fucking delicate, but we’ve adapted and everything will be bloody fine, so trust me and don’t be a fucking cunt about it.

You did not trust him. I didn’t help that you’d asked for any other possible details, and he’d pretended he couldn’t hear you. This suspicion was confirmed when, despite your incredible clarity that you would never step foot there again, Butcher seemed to be driving right to Vought Tower.

Your eyes had been steadily widening, panic starting to run through you the closer and closer you got, and you flinched when you felt Ben’s roughly shoulder nudge your own.

“What’s fucking wrong with you?” He’d asked in a low voice, barely audible over Hughie’s rambling explanation.

“You should listen,” you mutter back, trying to shut out the confusing concern he always seemed to feel at you, how it felt remarkably genuine, but was laced with anger that felt like it was trying to push out of your body. “Hughie’s explaining the plan.”

“Yeah, but all I have to fucking do is stay quiet, and I get to keep my dick. You’re being fucking twitchy and silent, and your heart is beating faster than it has all damn day, so don’t even try to fucking lie and tell me it’s fine.”

“It is fine, I’m fine-“ You paused as his words sank in. “Wait, what do you mean my heart-“

“Alright, here we go.” Butcher cut off both you and Hughie with a clap of his hands. “Everyone bloody out, let’s get this shitshow on the road.”

“Butcher,” you said, looking around to see you’d parked directly across from the tower entrance. “What the fuck are we doing here?”

“We’re meeting them right there.” MM answered for Butcher, pointing out of his window to something you couldn’t see. “It’s almost midnight, and Annie’s been making sure nobody gets inside but us.”

“But why?” You protest, even as MM leaves the car. “This,” you give a wide, general wave that hits Ben in the nose. “Cannot be the only option.”

“Both of them still have their trackers,” Hughie leans forward with an apologetic look as Frenchie and Kimiko exit the car. “This will look like they’re just getting a midnight snack, and hopefully Homelander won’t get suspicious.”

“Hopefully?!” You feel a rush of anger—not yours—and a twist of fear deep within your gut—absolutely yours. “Hopefully fucking Homelander won’t get suspicious?!”

Hughie gave an uncertain nod before very quickly scrambling to get out of the car. You take a long, deep breath, trying to steel yourself. A rush of what was becoming a familiar fuming and brittle concern ran through you. You look at Ben, to find his eyes locked firmly onto yours.

“Sorry about hitting-“

“I know how to hot-wire a car.”

You blink at him, taken aback by the firmness of his voice. “What?”

His hand moved to grip your thigh, his gaze not wavering. “I know how to hot-wire a car.”

You give him a flat look. “Yeah, I heard you the first time. Why are you telling me that?”

His frustration leaked into you. “Because say the word, I’ll steal Butcher’s car, and we’ll fucking leave.”

“What? Are you insane?”

“You look like you’re either going to start fucking crying or burst into flames, and this is a stupid fucking idea.”

“This was my plan.” You snap. “And I’m not stealing Butcher’s car. Why do you even know how to hot-wire a car anyway?”

Ben’s grip tightened. “No, your plan was stupidly well fucking thought out.”

“That’s an oxymoron.” You mutter, and he ignores you.

“And even if they haven’t completely fucking blown the execution, they completely squashed any chance of safety.”

“It’ll be fine,” you say, the words sounding fake even as you say them. “It’s late. He’s probably asleep.”

“What if he’s not?” His concern was starting to move to your throat, and there was something else, something sitting far deeper in your chest, beating and beating against you. Against you.

“Ben.” You place your hand over his. “I’ve worked too hard on this. This is the only way, and it will be fine.” You say the last words firmly and clearly, trying to make them sink into you. “Now take your fucking hand off of me, and get out of the damn car.”

He pulls himself from you, and even as his touch leaves, the concern and beat linger until he’s gone from the car. You drag yourself across the seats and ignore Hughie’s offer of a hand as you duck out of the car and onto the curb. You notice the 24 hour diner MM must have been pointing out almost immediately, half because—aside from an incredibly sketchy looking deli a few doors down—it’s the only building with its lights still on, and half because two very flustered teenagers are sulking away from the entrance, where Annie stands with her arms crossed. She’s already spotted your group, and has angeled her head in a signal to join her.

“You’re late.” She chides as you approach.

“Well, Starlight, I’d apologize, but it was those two fuckheads,” Ben and MM both receive a jabbed thumb over Butcher’s shoulder. “Who decided to draw out the bloody carpool process.”

“I told you not to call me Starlight anymore, Butcher.” Annie snaps, not giving him a chance to respond before she turns to you. “A-Train is, somehow, running behind as well. Hopefully Ashley’s just being resistant to getting food with him, but they’ll be here.”

“Isn’t running that pussy’s whole fucking thing?” Ben muttered, quiet enough for only you to hear. You step as hard as you can on his foot.

“Shut it, Pretty Boy.” You whisper over his grunt of what probably is more emotional pain than physical.

“Bitch.” He hisses back.

“Cunt.” You raise your voice so the others can hear you. “We should go inside, it’s risky to just… stand here.”

With nervous looks around and stuttered agreements, you all make your way into the diner. The lights are flickering, and it’s eerily empty with only a very nervous-looking blonde waitress at the counter. She makes a very big show of asking how many are in your party, leading you to a large, round table, and laying out the menus with shaky hands. Kimiko, Hughie, Annie, and MM try and offer her comforting smiles, though MM’s is strained as he keeps a vigilant glare on Ben. The waitress is staring at Ben herself, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, glacing back as she leaves to get your and Butcher’s coffee, Annie and MM’s tea, Kimiko and Hughie’s milkshakes, and Ben and Frenchie’s orders of “the strongest alcohol you’ve fucking got.” Your personal bet was it was going to just be very old beer.

“Why is she fucking staring at me?” Ben muttered to you, watching the waitress as she walked away. “Did you fuck up my beard that bad?”

“Your beard looks literally the same.” You dismiss. “And it’s because, as far as the public knows, Maeve killed you in a heroic act of self-sacrifice to stop your evil, anti-American attacks. That, or she wants to fuck you.”

“Hm,” he looks back at you, settling down into his seat. “Am I allowed to bring guests into the safe house?”

“No.” You say, a little more curtly than you intended. Seeing his wide, cocky grin, you clairfy. “It’s a breach of security. She would need to pass a CIA vetting and be approved by, like, twenty people. I don’t think she’d do that just to fuck you.”

Ben shrugs, his smirk only growing. “You did.”

“I’m going to cut off your balls and feed them to you-“

“Hey,” MM cuts you off, saying your name in a brisk, hard tone from across the table. “They’re here.”

You snap your head to the door, where A-Train is practically pushing Ashley into the diner.

You hear her voice clearly over the recession pop humming from the speakers. “Why can’t we just go to the fucking deli? They make these amazing meatball subs and supes eat free, so you could order for both of us- oh fuck no.”

“Oh, shit.” MM mutters, jumping to his feet with Butcher and Annie as Ashley notices them, and promptly tries to dash for the exit.

You don’t entirely blame her. You’d probably do the same. You had done the same, an unhelpful voice reminds you.

“I- Am- Not-“ Ashley is trying to get past A-Train, who hasn’t given up trying to herd her further into the diner. “Fuck- this-“

“Ashley, just listen to them, I fucking swear-“

“Why should I trust you?!” Ashley doubles over, out of breath. “You fucking tricked me! Midnight snack my fucking ass- Fuck no!” She raises a crooked finger at Annie, who has stopped in front of her. “Get the fuck away from me, you bitch.”

“Ashley, please listen to A-Train-“

“No! Just leave me the fuck alone! I don’t want to be a part of your weird fucking eye for an eye justice shit-“

“You kind of already are.” MM says as he locks the door behind her. “You work for Vought, your it’s motherfucking CEO. That makes you a part of this, like it or not.”

“Not!” Ashley shouts. “I don’t care what you have to say! Homelander’s going to fucking kill me, oh my god.” She starts to hyperventilate. “If he finds out I was here, he’ll kill you-“ She points a shaky finger at A-Train. “And then make me go on fucking TV to explain why you’re missing, and then fucking kill me-“

Butcher scoffs. “Bloody hell, lady. Calm the fuck down, Homelander ain’t gonna find out.”

“You don’t know that!” She shrieked. “He knows fucking everything! Especially since fucking Sage joined!” She spins around frantically, and her wild eyes lock onto yours. “He knows about them!” A shaking finger jumps between you and Ben. “Fuck! He’s supposed to be fucking asleep and now he’s fucking not! And he was so fucking angry about her, I’ve never seen him so fucking angry-“

Whatever else Ashley stutters about Homelander’s anger is lost to you as the world freezes. The feeling isn’t just under your skin, it’s up your spine, in your blood, circling around your brain. It’s fucking everywhere and you can’t fucking breathe, her words looping around you.

He knows. He’s angry. He fucking knows. He’s fucking angry. He fucking knows and he’s fucking angry and he fucking knows and he’s fucking angry and-

A white hot, impossibly calm feeling crashes over you. It’s angry, hungry and angry, but it’s grounding, sharpening everything around you. Suddenly the world is back in complete focus, Ashley’s shrill rambling scraping at your ears, and in the distance that weird fucking rhythm is sounding. As the feeling in your body returns fully, you realize Ben’s hand is back on your thigh. You bounce it, looking up to give him a glare, and find he’s not even looking at you. Instead, his eyes are trained on Ashley, narrowed and cold. You give a small cough, and when he glances down at you, the feeling of anger stutters with something lighter, though only for a second.

You give another bounce of your leg, a look of move your damn hand or lose it taking over your face.

No, not until you calm the fuck down his scowl responds.

You huff, standing abruptly, and his hand falls off at the force of your movement. Suddenly you feel a lot less solid, but reason that your legs are shaky from the Homelander of it all, and if any situation calls for fractured nerves, it’s this one.

“Ashley.” You call across the diner, trying not to stutter or chew off your lip as her protests falters and attention turns to you. “If you know who I am, you know I wouldn’t be anywhere near here if we weren’t certain it was safe. Just have some food with us, listen, and then you can go.”

Ashley gives you a scowl that might surpass Ben’s but nods tightly, yanking her arm from where A-Train had been trying to hold her in place. You sit back down as the group at the door returns to their seats, the poor waitress pressing herself against the bar as they pass. Letting out a shaky, unsteady breath, you try and still yourself as you look out the diner window. City lights. Music.

City lights.

Music.

It was safe. He knows and he’s angry but was safe and there were city lights and music.

Your breathing was no longer coming in short, distressed bursts, but getting air in and out of yourself still felt like an act of labor, and you needed to get it the fuck together before Ashley sat down.

City lights. Music.

You can’t hear the song the diner is playing, instead letting your whole mind turn inward, allowing the ghost of music you can no longer sing to wash over you.

Ashley sits across from you right when you regain control, and from the corner of your eye, you see Ben pulling his hand from where it had been inching towards yours.

Her eyes flit, nerves poorly hidden, from you to Ben to Butcher to Annie and back to you, and her voice is high and shaky when she speaks. “Well?”

“Ashley, we need your help.” Annie leans forward, palms flat on the table.

“Well, then we’re done. I can’t help you. They don’t tell me anything, not really.” Ashley tries to stand, but her arm is caught by A-Train. “Really?” A-Train hisses as he pulls her back into her seat beside him. “They don’t tell you anything my ass, we sit in on all the same meetings. And I pulled these files-“ He pulls out a thumb drive from absolutely nowhere and drops it on the table. “Using your name, so you clearly have access to them.”

“What?!” Ashley looks at the thumb drive like it’s going to either explode or start jizzing on her blouse. “Why would you fucking do that?”

“Insurance.” A-Train answers smugly, the thumbdrive clearly having his intended. “I can’t open it, so you’re going to tell them how, and then I’ll erase the records of you taking the files from the system.”

Ashley looks around at your group, shaking her head. “No.”

“Sorry, Mate. We ain’t really asking.” Butcher leans across A-Train, shoving the thumb drive closer to Ashley. “Do us this solid, and A-Train won’t go right up to Homelander and tell him about how he saw you also cuddly and tight with me, Soldier Boy, and his favorite missing person.”

Your heart jumps right into your throat. City lights. Music.

Suddenly, Ben’s elbow is planted against yours, and you’re pulled back down to earth just in time to hear Ashley yell, “This is fucking blackmail! I’ll fucking sue!”

“You cannot sue government officials, madame.” Frenchie says smugly, and Hughie shakes his head.

“That’s- Frenchie, that’s not even kind of true.”

“You’re also not a government official.” Annie adds.

Frenchie looks genuinely perplexed at this and gives Kimiko a confused frown, receiving a shrug in return.

“But,” you pipe up, your voice somehow bored and casual. “I’m legally dead. He’s-“ You jab Ben in the chest, and Ashley’s eyes widen. “Legally dead and an enemy of the state. You can’t sue either of us, not without admitting some Vought secrets that will be very bad PR.” You give her a twisted smile, leering across the table. “Help us, or, even if Homelander believes you, which we both know he won’t, you’ll get fired. And I’m sure they’ll be very understanding and normal about how they do it.”

You feel a flash of weird pride and realize you can see Ben fighting a smile in your periphery.

Ashley has a fearful expression, looking at where your elbow is still connected with Ben’s. “What- what's even on it?”

“Becca Butcher files.” You say, not taking your gaze from her, but you didn’t need to look around to see the sudden, rigidness with which everyone sat. You even felt Ben’s own shock run through you.

You’d be lying if you said hiding the exact contents of the file hadn’t been a very purposeful choice that you and Butcher had made. He’d cornered you, demanding to know what you planned on doing should Soldier Boy go after Ryan, and you’d told him that it wouldn’t be an issue. Ryan looked up to Homelander, that was why he stayed. He’d lost his mother, he didn’t trust Butcher, all the poor kid had was his insane, sociopathic father. Some part of you—small and sad and tired, still sitting on a staircase in Boston—understood that. But with Becca gone, gone forever, Ryan didn’t have a place to run like you’d had. Homelander was the default, and just kind enough to his son that Ryan could force himself to forgive Homelander again and again. Homelander was safe for Ryan.

You were going to make sure Ryan never saw Homelander as safe again. And that started with Becca Butcher and would end with you. So you and Butcher had agreed with a tight handshaked that he'd ripped his hand from right after, everyone was only going to know what they needed to. That was the only way it would work.

“Becca Butcher files?” MM repeats in a slow, incredulous tone. “You,” he turns with a look of shock to Butcher. “You knew about this? You’re fuckin okay with this?”

“I’m doing what has to be done, Mate.” Butcher answers flatly, then says your name. “Tell ‘em the plan, Love.”

“We need to get Ryan away from Homelander. Ryan needs to know about his mother.”

“No,” Ashley was emerging from the shock to try and stand from the table, but A-Train’s arm shot out, pulling her back down once more. “No,” she says again, looking around desperately. “Ryan, Ryan is all he has. All he cares about. You take Ryan he’ll lose his mind-“

“He’s already lost his mind.” Something snaps in your chest—a cruel feeling waking up as you watch Ashley fret about Homelander. “And I couldn’t give less fucks about what he cares about.” The feeling is crawling across your skin. “If this hurts him, good. It could never hurt him enough to make it right.” You hear drums and still can’t place where they’re coming from. “Now listen to the last fucking strand of your morality on your scalp and fucking help us.”

Ashley shakes her head again, this time with less certainty. “It’s- no- He-“ she pulls in a deep, unsteady breath. “He won’t stop until he gets Ryan back. He already is going insane about you and him and how he needs to get you back safe and put him back down, and if Ryan goes to then nothing will stop him-“

The drums are loud now, and something that’s usually there on Ben’s face is missing. Your own body doesn’t feel entirely normal anymore, but it’s not paralyzed or running. You can feel something in Ben caving, falling inward in a growing rhythm, moving in time as something in you grows. It's not in you now, it’s across you, coating your skin and singing with glee.

“Ashley,” the sound of your voice is a little far away, but you can hear it echo through you. It’s wired, hot, a warning.

“I- I can’t.”

“Yes, you fucking can.” You sneer. “You’re just too much of a pussy to do it.” Ben coughs in the way that you know means he wants to laugh, just as the drums stutter and move farther away.

“Please, I don’t-“

“Do not make me stab you.”

Ashley falters, looking you up and down. “You won’t.”

“Trust me, she will.” Ben smirks, giving you a nudge. “She’s surprisingly violent.”

“I, I won’t. I can’t. He’ll kill me-“

“You think we won’t?” Ben growls, any amusement in him gone as you feel something unbreakable and resolved through your body.

Ashley tries to run again, this time actually managing to get up from the table, but is knocked flat on her ass by A-Train before she can take two steps. You stand and give the itch, now under your tongue and your nails, a small scratch.

“Oh, fuck no.” You hear scrambling as you walk around the table and stop, staring down at Ashley.

She’s crawling back from you, back from the fire curling from your whole body, and disgust curls in your gut. For the first time you feel anger—insatiable and gory anger—all of your own. No city lights flash around you, no hollow music dances around your head. You don’t fear Ashley. She’s weak and spineless. She’s willing to cover her hands in Ryan’s blood, in your blood, to keep herself safe from Homelander. She’s staring at you, terrified, and you don’t need to touch her to know it isn’t even a fraction of all the fear you felt in that white room. That white room she knows about, may have seen, and is still trying to keep Homelander happy.

You bend down, letting all your hatred for Vought, for her, cover your features. When you speak, your words are clear and low.

“You are going to tell Butcher how to access the thumbdrive. A-Train and you are going to take some food with you, and walk back to the tower. You aren’t going to tell Homelander about this, and if he asks, offer him some leftovers. A-Train will erase your activity from the files, and you’re going to pretend the whole night never happened. If you tell Homelander about either me or Be-“ You correct yourself smoothly. “Soldier Boy, the last thing I will do before he locks me away again is kill you. Do I make myself clear?”

Ashley nods frantically, flinching when you raise your hand.

“Say it. Say that I made myself clear.”

“You-“ Ashley stutters, hiccuping. “You made yourself clear.”

You draw yourself back up. “Good. Butcher, I’m leaving. You can drive me and come back, or Ben can steal your car, but I’m leaving.”

When you turn, when you see the looks on your team’s face, all the anger is gone, and suddenly there is a crushing, painful weight of shame on your chest. They’re looking at you like Ashley had been, like you’re no better than Homelander. Like maybe you should go back in the room, it would be safer for them, it would be safer for everyone if you were far, far away-

“You heard the lady.” Ben is standing, walking around to your side. “It’s late. We’re leaving. Sunshine?” He offers you his arm, and you stare between it and your own, still covered in flame. Looking up, his face looks bored, as if this is just another Tuesday, and he offers his arm to women who are actively ablaze on a regular basis.

Your face feels slack, and all you can manage is to blink at him. I’ll burn you, Pretty Boy. It’ll hurt.

His brows subtly knit, and he doesn’t move. I’ll live, Sunshine. Don’t let them see you break. We’re going home.

You look back at your team, a wide circle of berth having formed around you and Ben. Butcher is looking between the two of you, and you recognize that glint in his eyes. You’d seen it before, but it’s only been really, truly directed at you once. In a graveyard in Boston, gravestones and bushes around you burning in the dead of winter, holding a bucket of ice that steamed off your skin. Under it, fear begins to creep back into you, exhaustion pushing it forward. Butcher reaches behind him, and your knees feel weak.

But you don’t fall. Zealous anger, strong and raw, spreads through you and Butcher’s movements still. You look down and find Ben’s arm unflinchingly looped through yours, his body at its full height as his eyes rake coldly over Butcher.

The silence hangs in the air, cut through only by Ashley’s quick, sobbed breaths. For a second you think the smoke seeping from you will overtake the room before anyone moves, but Butcher slowly reaches into his pockets, eyes not leaving Ben’s, and throws the keys at Hughie.

“Drop them off, Mate, then come right back. No bloody detours.”

Hughie stares at the keys, looking like he’s going to protest, but Kimiko grabs them before he can.

She turns to you, completely composed, no fear wavering as she locks your eyes with hers. I’ll take you.

Before you can thank her, Frenchie steps forward, signing as he speaks. “Mon Coeur, you cannot drive.”

She frowns. Yes I can.

“No, Mon Coeur, not legally.” Frenchie says, exasperated, and you have a feeling this is not first time they've had this debate.

Kimiko rolls her eyes at you. Fine. She signs back at Frenchie, throwing the keys at him. You’ll do it.

Frenchie stumbles as he catches them, giving Kimiko a shocked look, which she pretends not to see as she walks to the door, signing at you as she passes.

Let’s go before Butcher’s brain starts working.

A small smile threatens your face, and you move, tugging Ben’s arm only once before he falls into pace with you, Frenchie scrambling behind you both.

The car ride back feels longer. The moment you’d stepped out of the diner, your body had extinguished, and you had a worrying sense that the only thing keeping you from collapsing on the sidewalk was Ben’s arm firm through yours. No words were said for the entirety of the drive, you and Ben in the backseat as Frenchie drove and Kimiko lounged in shotgun, and your brain raced. Ben hadn’t let go, and the drums were fading in and out of your chest as he stared ahead into the night.

You arrived at the safe house, only a street lamp casting a dull glow across the street. The chill of the wind cutting against you as Kimiko walked you to the door, Frenchie mumbling something about keeping the car safe from Hooligans. Ben made to step inside, but halted, still not releasing your arm, as you stayed at the doorstep.

At his questioning glare, you tried to wiggle his arm from yours. “Go inside, Ben. I’ll be right there.”

He looked down at where he was still connected with you, and you felt reluctance in time with the drums, but he let go with a scowl. “Be fast,” he grunted, and stomped into the house.

You watched until he’d disappeared fully down the hall, turning to Kimiko only once his back was shrouded in the darkness of the house.

“Thank you,” you give her a soft smile, signing as you speak. “I- I don’t know what happened, I just-“

She shakes her head, and you trail off. I understand. I get angry too. She pauses, hands hovering for only a second. We are not like them. She points down the street, in the direction of the tower, and then past you, into the house. We get to be angry.

“I don’t want to be angry.” You say softly. “He wins when I get angry.”

Kimiko gives you a sad look, placing a hand on your arm. Her own frustration, her fear of Homelander, all the anger at the world, sinks into you. She holds your gaze for a second before drawing back to sign once more. He doesn’t win when you’re angry. He wins when you’re scared. You’re not Soldier Boy. Your anger is good.

You glance back into the house. “I think he- Ben- Soldier Boy- is scared. Or something. His emotions are really fucking confusing.”

You let him touch you. She signs. Does he know?

“He said he didn’t care, because he’s, and I quote, ‘not a pussy with something to hide’.”

But he’s scared? She gives you a questioning frown. Do you think it’s because of Russia? Could you fix it, like you offered for me?

“I’m not sure, but-“ you’re cut off as Frenchie honks the horn, leaning out the window.

“Mon Coeur!” His odd position makes his signing almost unintelligible, which he seems to realize, and raises his voice. “Monsieur Butcher says to get back ‘like a hare with a bomb up it’s arse'.”

Kimiko rolls her eyes at you, but signs a goodbye, giving your hand a small squeeze before returning to the car. As the engine rumbles, Frenchie pulling out the driveway, Kimiko’s calm faith lingers in you, and you walk back into the house, shutting the door behind you.

Almost all the lamps and ceiling lights of the house are off, the TV glowing from where you had abandoned it several hours ago. From the bottom of the stairs, you can see the upstairs hall is washed in a soft yellow, and when you reach the top Ben’s door is open, the light from within filling the hall. You stop at the entrance to his room, his back to you as he pulls a cotton shirt over his head.

You let out a small cough in a weak attempt to alert him to your presence.

“You’re allowed to just come in, Sunshine.” He grunts, still facing away. “I’m not a shy little virgin you need to pussyfoot around.”

You let out a small hum, walking over the threshold and stopping a few feet behind him. “Thank you.” You say softly, and he turns around to look at you.

His eyes are tired. Pained. Something looks like it’s pulling at him and it scares you. You’ve seen that expression before, when you’d woken him up that first day, at the Neuman mission, when you pulled him from nightmares with sharp hits, but never just there. It was always with something. This was like an island, just him and you, nothing pulling it out of him.

“Don’t thank me.” He says gruffly. Even his voice is drained. “You mostly held your own.”

“But-“

“And stop feeling bad about that Ashley bitch. She fucking deserved it.”

You stare at him. “You really believe that?”

He lets out a hollow laugh. “She was fucking pathetic. A fucking pussy. Fucking eating out Homelander’s fucking hand, brown-nosing him until he fucking cums and pays her, letting him take you-“ His jaw clenches. “I fucking meant it when I said we’re not going back Sunshine. I’m not a goddamn pussy liar.”

“I didn’t think you were. But, you…” Your voice fades as you try to find the words. “I could feel you. At the diner.”

“I fucking know, that was the goddamn point. I wasn’t going to let you start crying in front of those self-righteous pussies.”

“No, Ben.” You shake your head. “I could feel you. I could feel it.” You place a hand over your chest. “It was building. There was something beating against you, inside you. And you looked…” You watch him carefully. “Scared.”

“Fucking watch it.” He growls. “I don’t get fucking scared. I’m not-“

“A fucking pussy. I know.” You sigh. “I don’t want to, I can’t, fight right now. I’m so fucking tired. You can scream at me in the morning, but not right now, please.”

He stares at you, and just when you think he’s going to start yelling, he nods. “You’re…” He sounds strange. “You’re ok.”

Just like the last time he said it, the words aren’t phrased like a question. They don’t feel like a question. It feels like he’s just telling you again. But there’s something under it this time, something that makes his words almost unsure. Something that makes up your mind faster than you thought you would.

“Are you?” You ask quietly.

“Of course I fucking am.”

“Ben.” You tilt your head at him. “I’m going to tell you something, and I don’t want you to respond now.”

“You’re being fucking weird, Sunshine.”

“Please.”

He relents with a grunt. “Fucking fine. What.”

“I can fix it.” It’s so hard to keep his gaze as you speak. “It will take time, but I can fix it.”

“Fix what.” He scowls. “There’s nothing to fucking fix.”

“Your PTSD.”

“I don’t fucking have-“

“Ben, I could feel it. It’s dangerous. I could fix it.” You take a deep breath. “I can fix internal injuries as well. I offered to fix Kimiko’s muteness, but she didn’t want me to do it.”

“Then what fucking makes you think-“

“Muteness isn’t dangerous. And it would’ve been harder for me, I might have ended up mute myself. You’re dangerous like this. You can’t fucking control it, and don’t try and lie and say it’s under control. Ashley mentioned putting you back under, and you looked like someone was drowning you.”

“Shut the fuck up, Sunshine.” He leers at you. “You don’t fucking know me, know what it was like-“

“I do. You know I do.” You whisper, and the anger on his face breaks. “More than anyone else, I know. I can fix it, but you’ll have to let me. Just-“ You search his eyes, not sure what you’re looking for. “Just think about it. I won’t mention it again, I won’t even touch you, but my offer will stay on the table. Please, just think about it.”

Before you can leave, he grabs your hand. A rush of painful exhaustion runs through you, and there’s anger, but it’s not full of the fervor you’ve come to expect from him. It’s not even at you. It’s wide and almost consuming, leaving room for only a small kernel of something fragile and warm.

“I don’t care if you keep touching me, Sunshine. I've go nothing to hide from you, and that’s not going to change. But there’s nothing in me you need to fucking fix, so don’t fucking bother.”

“I’m not trying to fix you, Ben,” You murmur. "But remember, you burn, I burn. Please don't burn." Your last words are soft, and the kernel pulses.

“Good,” he grunts, releasing your arm. A small smirk crawls onto his face. “Now I don’t care if it’s here or in your room, Sunshine, but you need to go the fuck to bed. You look like shit.”

Just as he says it, the full weight of your fatigue hits you. You give a mumbled acknowledgement of his words, and try to leave the room, but all the adrenaline is gone from your system and nothing is left to stop the failure of your legs or droop of your eyes. The last thing you feel is something pulling you up before your knees hit the carpet, the last thing you see is green eyes on your own, and you hear an amused snort from above you.

“Goodnight, Sunshine. Try not to dream about me.”

You try to object, but sleep pulls you under before you can even remember why you need to.

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Screaming at an Empty Room -

Reintroduction/Update

Hello everyone! Probably too late to do an intro, given that I've been writing on this blog since 2017, but since I've returned after a few years away from writing, I wanted the opportunity to talk about my blog and projects completed and my upcoming plans!

I go by Avaleon everywhere else on the internet, but respond to pretty much anything, including Screaming, hey you, etc! Started this blog in my mid 20s, and aged normally into the early 30s from there. I love writing, have always loved it, but between work and life, it's definitely something that I mostly do late at night and on weekends. I love hearing from people, but I usually answer asks in bunches, and typically right before I post writing. Love hearing about other people's projects as well!

I write short stories, novellas, and occasional full length novels. I am not published, but actively working on self-publishing some of my full length works. Everything I write is posted online, I enjoy sharing my work. The main reason to self publish for me is to have physical copies for myself or anyone who might want one!

My short stories can be found under the #writing tag on my blog. As for the long completed stories, I'll post them below the cut!

Love you Tumblr, happy to be back!

A. Full Length Novels (100,000+ words)

Please Fix the Story!

Description:

I don’t know who I am. I don’t know why I’m trapped in this never ending cycle of rebirth. All I know is that I wake up inside the worlds of unfinished stories, with a mission to accomplish the author’s wishes and stabilize the worlds now headed for destruction. I do my best, hoping, praying that maybe if I complete enough missions, I’ll be able to remember my past and return to my home.

It’s just fixing stories, it should be simple enough.

So can someone explain who this random villain is who keeps following me to each world?

Masterpost linked here

2. I Can’t Eat Love

Description:

Lenora did not have a wonderful life. After her engagement to Prince Ronan is broken, she loses everything… her reputation, her home and her family. Starving on the streets, she dies angry and bitter at how her life unfolded… only to wake up in her old bed, fifteen again, five years before her death. 

Now she must struggle to change her fate, and the fate of the around her. This time she won’t trust in something as flimsy or changeable as love. No, this time she’ll have the power and the money she needs to protect herself. 

Lenora has already lost everything once. She’s not going to lose again. 

No matter the cost. 

Masterpost Linked Here

B. Novellas

I Refuse to be a Named Character

Description:

I woke up inside the world of one of the best selling fantasy book series “Deadly Crown.” Intrigue, handsome heroes, adventure… sounds great, right? Just one problem: all the named characters except the main hero and villain die, are replaced and their replacements die. Being important in this story is a death sentence, so I plan to move to the middle of nowhere, and avoid the plot! 

It should be a fool proof plan, so why do the main characters keep dragging me into the story?

Masterpost Linked Here

2. Living in a Rewrite of my Own Book World

Description:

This is the story about an author who gets hit by a car right before she can finish her bestselling book series. Trapped in the role of a terrible side character antagonist, she must find a way to change the story’s ending. Not just for her own survival, but for the characters that seem just a little too real to be fiction. (30K words)

Masterpost Linked Here

3.Baby’s First Revenge!

Description:

When Charlotte is betrayed and killed by the friend she sacrificed everything for, she thought it was the end. Instead, she found herself reborn as a baby, with her killer still enjoying the fame of stealing her work. Now, she's coming after him, and plans to make him pay... But first, nap time.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7

4. The Supervillain’s Daughter

The story of Erica, a girl who finds out that her brother is the kidnapped child of superheroes, and that her parents are villains. Years later she is the best agent in the Villain Suppression Unit, and hates everything to do with superheroes. So of course she isn’t pleased when she is paired with the strongest man alive, especially because she knows him. But with even darker parts of her past surfacing again, she will have no choice but to join forces and save the world. 

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

Other smaller works and the incomplete ones can be found on this page

Thanks everyone!

[palesweetscherryblossom]

Thought of a little Red Riding Hood AU with Dabi and Hawks but with a platonic Yandere twist.

Let me set the scene: Reader Chan was on her merry way to deliver some treats to her father’s home. Hawks is your father and a pretty wealthy hunter as well. The village’s leader and local Dilf.

You could get diabetes from how sweet he is with you, often kissing and giving you loads of physical affection.

He sends you out into village for simple errands as you like to do help out your father as much as you can.

Reader Chan then wanders into the woods, maybe she can pick some pretty flowers for her dad. She grows tired and decides to nap on a hill.

Enter Dabi, a fearsome werewolf who is recently in some hot water with the nearby village after stealing livestock and terrorizing the local farmers. He quickly catches the scent of human and is a little miffed about it. He can’t stand trespassers who hunt his prey and steal his fruit, so he follows it.

Then he just sees you, contently napping while clutching a basket and some flowers. Dabi is an asshole who likes chasing after hunters, howling really loudly to make himself known but he’s not gonna kill a baby!

He trots on over to Reader and attempts to make his presence known, by loudly growling and snarling. Reader wakes up and in their 7 year old brain, being a dog means your good news.

Instead of crying or running away in fear, you offer Dabi, this hulking wolf who is growing angrily in your face, a cinnamon sugar muffin. He stops and is like “Uh, wtf is this?”

You place it in front of him and he eats it. Reader Chan is ecstatic about the nice doggy accepting her gift and you pet him. Dabi is just sitting there as you pet his fluffy fur and coo about how he’s a good doggo.

You go back home and Dabi is like: Fuck, I gotta adopt you. I’ll teach you how to hunt and we’ll chase chickens together.”

Hawks is rather terrified that you came home so late and that you have wolf fur on your dress.

Now Dabi desires to make you apart of his pack as his pup and Hawks has to make sure that you don’t get kidnapped. (He also has to fight his raging Dabi boner.)

[testingthewatersss]

I never lost him Trigger warnings for PTSD, mentions of war, torture,  etc. Just unapologetic cuddling and comfort ft. Steve Rodgers. Bucky Barnes x F Reader Chapter 7 3890 words fluff, angst, comfort. 18+ MDNI Post TWS Steve realises that he's not the only one looking for Sargent Barnes. Reader is Tony’s sister, a non-enhanced shield agent who recently resurfaced.

Y/N is still laughing when they reach the bathroom, and they’re both grinning by the time they’ve finished washing up.

Despite Bucky’s poor attempt at denial, she catches the way he lingers under the pressurised spray of water, and makes a mental note to get it upgraded to one that is more customisable.

She mentions the idea to him in the bedroom and he scoffs, telling him that even if she’d given him a hundred years he’d have never thought about making a customisable shower head. She laughs and says that there must be some kind of stupid thing that he’s always wanted.

‘I can’t think of anythin’ like that’ he tells her

When she asks him for his top ten favourite luxuries in general he rolls his eyes, towel wrapped around his waist and replies that he’s looking at them right now.

“I’m not a luxury, Barnes” she mock scolds, turning to grab herself some clean clothes from her dresser, “and I’m serious— if you could invent any 10, ridiculous, unnecessary, frivolous things, what would they be?”

“Oh, god, doll— I don’t know.”

She just laughs again, and gestures towards the clothes she’d laid out for him earlier.

“Well, why don’t you ponder it for awhile and let me know when you have some ideas.”

He scoffs, and dresses himself without further rebuttal, only pausing to relish in the way that it feels to have soft, clean clothes to put on for a change.

The socks nearly make him cry again, but instead, he finds himself tugging at his dog tag and waiting longingly for Y/N to turn back towards him.

It isn’t a long wait.

She’s ready in no time, spinning on her heals to beam at him, as she reaches out to hold his hand.

As the pair walk back out towards the living-room, Bucky makes a detour to the wicker basket, grabbing the same blue quilt he’d been fussing with earlier before leading Y/N back to the couch.

They curl up together, and when his head settles neatly into the curve of her chest, he realises that it feels strangely like he’s taking his first real breath of the day.

“Wanna watch some TV?” Y/N offers, “Maybe take a nap before lunch?”

He makes a soft noise of consideration, snuggling down impossibly further into her front.

This is his favourite way to sleep.

Between her thighs, with her arms around him, with his whole body pressed against hers.

“What do you feel like eatin’, doll?”

His voice is tired. She thinks that he’ll probably doze off before long, regardless of her answer.

“I’m not sure” she replies honestly, “haven’t really thought about it, how about you?”

“I’ll have whatever you’re havin” he mumbles, pressing a lazy kiss against her arm, “Do we have anythin’ here?”

“Sure we do” she replies, “I normally use the main kitchen, y’know, downstairs, but we have some bits knockin’ around.”

“Or…” he begins, “we could always ask Steve to pick us somethin’ up?”

That takes her by surprise. Genuine surprise, that makes her blink down at him dumbly for a moment as she wonders if she’s misheard him.

“We could” she allows after a beat, “but then he’ll want to bring it.”

“We were goin’ to let him see me today” Bucky reminds her, “and I… I figured this way it… it might be less awkward than him just bein’ told to come by and wave.”

“Alright” she chuckles, “Fair point, but it’s up to you, sweetheart— this whole thing with Rodgers, it's all you.”

He nods, brow furrowing in thought

“If you called him now do you think he would answer?”

“If I call him?” she says with a scoff, “yeah, Buck I think he would.”

He nods again.

“It’s one” she notes, “If I spoke to him now and asked him to swing by a bodega or somethin’ on his way back you’d have time to nap or change your mind before he gets here.”

“Okay” he agrees, “and if I do— If I do change my mind, then-”

“Then I suppose I could meet him at the door, tell him you’ve passed out on the bed and ask him to come back later.”

“You’d do that?”

“Sure I would” she says, “but, this is all hypothetical, because we don’t have to ask him to bring us anything, we could always just order a delivery if you want take out that badly.”

His eyes roll just before he buries his face back against her chest.

“Can you call him, doll?” he asks quietly, “I think this is goin’ to be the way that gets me the least worked up.”

“Okay” she allows, “What shall I ask him to grab?”

“Whatever you want, doll”

That’s clearly one decision too many. She can feel the tension creeping back into his shoulders, so, she nods quickly, pressing a kiss against his brow.

“There’s a nice deli not far from where he is, you still like cheese-steaks?”

He nods silently, tightening his arms around her waist as she asks FRIDAY to make the call.

“Do you want me to take it on my cell?” she offers, “Or is speaker alright.”

“Speakers fine” he murmurs, “I’m goin’ to see him soon, no point hidin’ from his voice.”

Y/N scoffs at that, stroking a gentle circle across his back as she waits for the other man to connect.

“Hello?” Steve says, anxiety clear in his tone, “Y/N, are you okay?”

Bucky can’t help but smile as the woman he’s laying on chuckles.

“Sure I am, Steve” she replies, ever calm, “I’m fine, just wonderin’ if you could do me a favour whilst you’re out.”

“Anything-” he bursts, eager to accept, “Whatever you need.”

Bucky mouths an almost inaudible ‘Jesus Christ’ at the man’s desire to please her, and she rewards him with a smile and a playful swat against his hip.

“Can” she begins, swallowing laughter as he nestles down, kissing any part of body that he can reach, “Can you just, stop by the deli on 25th? grab a couple of the cheese-steaks.”

The silence on the other end of the line is telling. It lasts a fraction too long to be natural and Bucky can’t help but push himself up a little so that she can see the quirk in his brow.

Y/N’s hand is against his cheek before he can get too nervous about having over-stepped with his request. He’s still keening out towards her fingers when Steve finally clears his throat;

“I— Sure I can, are… where, where do you want me to bring them?”

“To my room?” she replies, “I’m back at the tower now, didn’t think about making a pit stop on the way”

“You’re home?” he asks quickly, “Are… are you alone?”

She meets Bucky’s eyes for a moment, genuinely curious about whether or not he’s going to speak. He gives her a small smile, before looking away, and that’s when she’s sure that he’s not.

“No” she admits, “Not, right now.”

The laugh Steve gives her is breathless, it’s so genuinely elated that Barnes is blushing when he hears it.

“So, he— is- is Bucky, is he there?”

“Steve” she warns, “Remember our little talk about patience?”

“Yeah” he says lightly, “Yeah, I do— but, but when I bring them back can— can I say hi?”

“—that depends—” Bucky’s tired voice inserts, “—are you goin’ to start bawlin’ or somethin’—”

Y/N is stunned. Truly, utterly, stunned.

and if the choked sound Steve makes is anything to go by, so is he.

“Bucky?” he asks after a moment, “Buck is it—”

“You know it is” he replies, confidence waining a little now that the interaction is real, “Y/N/N told you I was comin’ “

and then he’s back to laughing, the same disbelieving laughter that has almost become his trademark lately.

“I, god” he says, “I can’t believe it’s you— are, are you okay? do you have everythin’ you need? I can bring anythin—”

“Steve” Y/N cautions, more firmly than before, “Take a breath”

The look of gratitude on Bucky’s face is obvious. He hadn’t meant to set the man off like that, he… he hadn’t really meant to do anything other than say hello, and now all of this is suddenly feeling like… like a big step for a phone call—

“Okay” Steve chuckles, “Okay, yeah, you’re right— sorry— sorry, Buck I- I know you need time, and your own space, I- I get it, I swear.”

“Breathe” Y/N repeats, “take a breath- I wouldn't put it past you to be the first super solider to give himself an asthma attack”

To his credit, he does listen to her, despite her teasing tone. The way that he stops to draw in a real, grounding breath is audible, even via a phone call.

“I’m… I’m here and I’m fine” is what Bucky chimes in, “I… I’m just— it’s… this a lot, Steve”

“Yeah” the other man agrees, clearly a little bit calmer, “Yeah, I know- I’m sorry”

“Stop apologising” Y/N inserts, “It’s fine, you’re both fine-“

“She’s right…” Bucky agrees, “I… I trust you, I know you want to make this easy on me”

“I do” Steve agrees, “I really, I do, Buck- so anything, anything either of you need—”

“Let’s start with lunch” Y/N suggests, knuckle grazing Bucky’s chin, “Don’t rush back, just finish up whatever you’re doin’, stop by the deli and-”

“2 cheese-steaks” Steve finishes happily, “I’ll see you soon?”

That’s a question. It’s definitely a question.

“Yeah” Bucky answers, “See you soon.”

FRIDAY ends the call, and Y/N can’t help but tilt her head as the man in her lap sags back into her front.

“You can still change your mind” she promises, knowing he’ll need the reminder, “Baby, that was brave…”

“..I… I’ve missed him” he says, realising as he does, that it’s the truth, “I’m just, god I'm scared, I'm scared and I don't even know why.”

“I know”

She does know, too, she’s known that he’s missed Steve since she'd first had a real conversation with it, despite his frequent and sometimes playful denials.

“Will you stay close?” Bucky asks next, “When he’s here, doll, will you stay with me?”

“Sure I will” she swears, stroking a line from his temple, all the way across his neck, “I’ll stay wherever you want me to.”

He likes that, nodding before huffing out a deep breath.

“You know…” she says, thought just occurring to her, “…I don’t think Steve has actually ever been in here…”

“Hmm?”

“Steve” Y/N says again, “he’s never stopped by, it’s always been me goin’ to see him.”

“Well” Bucky sighs tiredly, “You’re a real pretty girl, and he’s never been real good at speakin’ to dames, maybe he’s a little scared too”

“Maybe” she agrees, “We’ll have to make sure he feels welcome”

He just hums again, daring to imagine how nice it might be to have his oldest friend come to visit.

To come to his home for a meal, like… like they’d done as boys.

To see him and Y/N laughing, to see the two people he cares for the most in the world together, together in one place, in one, safe place.

And then he’s asleep.

Y/N notices the rise and fall of his chest becoming deeper, and then, she sees the tell-tale way his legs twitch when he starts dreaming.

“FRIDAY, let me know when Steve gets close”

The AI hears her whispered request and replies almost silently so as not to disturb the man in her arms.

For a minute, she wonders what to do with herself, but then, she remembers the ‘code white’ protocol and the way that the list of programmed triggers have been transferred over to her.

In Tony’s defence, it’s actually not a bad list.

It includes basic behavioural alerts, and, an audio monitoring system that is set to catch any of his code words in every known language.

So if anyone tries to use them, if anyone tried to hack into anything and blast them over their speakers, or if anyone was stupid enough to try them in person, then they’d be alerted before anything could come of it.

She looks more into what exactly happens when it is activated, too, and when she does, she realises just how thoughtful Tony had been when coding it.

It doesn’t just remove Bucky’s access and send out a ping to their devices.

It locks him in whatever room he’s in, unless he’s with anyone the software isn’t certain is a friendly.

It secures him, safely, in one place, making sure that nobody could try and take advantage of the situation; and then, it sends a distress signal, her, Steve and Tony, not letting up until they’re within range of his location and even then, they still need to manually over-ride it.

There are details, too, details so thoughtful that she doubts that even she could’ve come up with anything better;

Wherever Bucky is, when this is triggered, is programmed to be as calming of an environment as possible.

The lights will stay dim, and the audio will be dampened— FRIDAY is still set to respond to him as family, so he won’t ever be left totally alone waiting for someone he trusts to arrive.

She only makes a few minor adjustments. She adds a triggers that they wouldn’t have known about, and eases the parameters for his biological monitoring to better allow for his enhancements.

“He’s not Steve” she tells FRIDAY quietly, “If Tony’s ever doing anything like this again, remind him that he was exposed to different stimuli, and has some more more complex internal components— it’s not just his arm, which, by the way, is more invasive than he thinks.”

The AI’s barley audible ‘Yes, boss’ makes her smile, so does the agreement she gets when she asks her to let her brother know how grateful she is for all of his hard work.

Tony likes gestures, Y/N thinks to herself, maybe I can finish up a project for him?

“Hey, FRIDAY?” she sighs, flicking her holo-tablet off, “Is Tony stallin’ on anythin? Somethin’ that he just can’t seem to make himself finish?”

“Now you mention it, Y/N- There is the end of year review for the STARK internship programme. He has been opening the files, but he has yet to make a start on the actual report, even though he has had the brief for the past 4 months.”

“Send it over” she murmurs, smiling to herself, “Will I have time to get started, or shall I wait until tonight?”

“Captain Rodgers is downstairs, I was just about to alert you.”

“Later it is” she decides, slipping back to normal volume now that she knows she has to wake Bucky anyway, “Hey, baby”

Her fingers curl through his hair as she shifts, repeating her greeting.

He’s still in her arms, face pressed against her chest, and as he feels himself becoming more and more alert, he starts to remember exactly where he is.

And then he’s smiling.

“God” he mumbles, “did, did I pass out?”

Y/N chuckles, rubbing her nose against his before pressing a kiss against his mouth.

“A little” she soothes, stroking his cheek, “did you sleep well?”

“Yeah” he replies honestly, “Yeah, I— I did”

“Good” she beams, kissing him again, “Steve’s on his way, have you decided what you wanna’ do?”

He ducks his head, bashful for a moment.

“I’ll say Hi” he tells her, “We… We should invite him in, too?”

“It’s your place” she reminds him gently, “You can invite whoever you want.”

That concept makes him smile, sweet and genuine as he nods.

“I… I might be a little jumpy” he warns her, “I- I’d feel better if you—”

“—Stay close?”

She nods as she strokes a line down, across both of his arms, feeling the softness of the fabric sleeves he’s wearing.

“You like the shirt?” she wonders, “Does it fit?”

“Yeah” he says, “Yeah it… it’s perfect”

“Good” is the last thing she manages to say before there’s a knock on their door.

Bucky freezes for a second. Eyes widening as adrenaline floods his chest, but then, he takes a breath, and moves so that they can both stand up.

He clings to Y/N’s hand the second he can reach, and doesn’t even think about letting go as they head towards the entrance.

“If you need to leave” she tells him under her breath, “just go to the bedroom— I’ll take care of Steve, okay?”

He nods, biting his cheek so hard that he tastes blood on his tongue.

“Here we go then”

The door opens, and Y/N nearly chokes when she sees Steve Rodgers, stood, in his full suit, shield strapped to his back, with a bag of cheese-steaks in his hands.

“Oh my god” she scoffs, blinking rapidly, “What are you wearing?”

He looks down at himself, gawking.

“I- I was doin’ press” he stammers awkwardly, “I-”

“You didn’t think about changin?” Bucky says, shock making him forget his nervousness for a moment

“Well-” Steve says, smiling shyly, “You did make me promise to keep the outfit, remember?”

Out of all the ways that Bucky might’ve reacted, Y/N thinks that him, letting go of her hand whilst stepping forwards to hug his oldest friend is probably the best.

Steve is clearly so taken aback by the gesture that he doesn’t know what to do, because the way that he barely grazes the other mans back with his arms is telling.

The whole thing is so sweet, so desperately, earnestly sweet, that she doesn’t know what to do.

The pair separate quickly enough, and Bucky retreats to her side with a flush of red in his cheeks and eyes that look awfully full.

Y/N suspects Steve is crying too, but if he is, he hides it well by turning to fuss with his shield.

“How many subs did you get?” she asks, looking at the bag he’s still clutching, “That’s a little big for only 2?”

“Oh” he chuckles, “yeah, they— they gave me a bunch, insisted when they, saw— y’know? they would’t even let me pay! I had to get FRIDAY to wire it across”

Y/N sniggers a little at that, at the image of a fully dressed Captain America standing in line at a Deli.

“Want to come eat with us?”

Steve’s jaw drops when Bucky asks him that.

When he looks at Y/N, face full of surprise and she just offers him a one armed shrug.

“I… are— are you sure, Buck, I- I don’t want to gate-crash”

“It’s not gatecrashin’ if you’re invited” Bucky counters, feeling awfully proud of himself, “I- I’m not sayin’ I’m ready to throw a dinner party but, you should see where I’m stayin’ at least.”

“Yeah” Steve grins, “Yeah I’d, I’d love that, Y/N/N- is, is that okay with you?”

“It’s his place as much as mine, ‘Cap” she says, leading the way inside, “and he’s right, you should see it— honestly I can’t believe you haven’t stopped by sooner.”

“If I’m bein’ honest” he says, closing the door behind himself, “I’ve only ever been this high up once or twice.”

“Roof parties or for the labs?” Y/N asks, watching calmly as Steve’s eyes widen, obviously captivated by the space,

“Once of each” the pair say in unison.

Steve lets out an awkward chuckle, still taken aback by inside of her suite.

“C’mon boys” she coos, acutely aware of the way that Bucky has frozen, now, hovering by her side, fingers tight against her own, “Let’s eat?”

The nod Steve gives her is much more natural than that of her partner.

They walk to the couch, and sit, together, with Steve hovering awkwardly in front of them until Y/N rolls her eyes and points at the arm chair.

“Sit, Steve, Jesus— You’re acting like you thought I lived in a- well I don’t know, what were you expecting?”

He opens the bag, pulling out three sandwiches, and passing her two before looking up and around again.

“Not this…” he admits, “I’m, I’m not really sure, darlin’— maybe something a little more…“

“Modern?” Bucky guesses, recalling his earlier observations.

“Yeah” Steve agrees, grinning, “yeah, that’s the word.”

“It’s plenty modern” Y/N retorts playfully, “Almost half the stuff in here is custom built technology, god, I think even the cutlery is vibranium.”

“I didn’t mean it like that” Steve says, taking a bite out of his sub, “I meant the… the stuff”

Her eyes roll again, and she notices how the only one of them who hasn’t even unwrapped his meal is Bucky.

He’s still clinging to her hand, sandwich abandoned on his lap.

Y/N meets Steve’s eye a second before he considers mentioning it.

The look she gives him speaks a thousand words, and he finds himself ignoring it completely, containing the polite chatter he’s making with her, instead.

"You know why me and Tony have all the important stuff up so high?" she says, "It's so if we ever have to jump out the window, there's enough time for the emergency suits to deploy- we had to get measurements so we knew which floors we could claim"

And Bucky is insanely grateful. He’s so, so grateful to not have to try and speak right now, when all he wants to do is watch.

Y/N just keeps hold of his hand, as she eats with the other.

She nods along with Steve and hopes she knows how important it is that he doesn’t push too hard right now.

This is already such a huge step. It really is the epitome of running before you can walk, though, so she doesn’t want to do anything that might cause him to stumble.

A few minutes pass and they’re done with their food.

They’re done, and Steve knows that he should probably leave.

“Did you tell T that we’re back?” Y/N asks

“Yeah” Steve sighs, “but it kinda seemed like he already knew.”

She scoffs, bringing Bucky’s hand to her lips.

“Sounds about right” she murmurs, pressing kiss against his knuckles, “Tell him I’ll catch up with him tomorrow? I think we’re due a quiet night in, huh, Buck?”

His head tilts when he hears his name. He blinks, looking almost dazed before he smiles and nods in agreement.

“Yeah, doll” he murmurs, “a… a quiet night in sounds good…”

“I’ll pass it on” Steve swears, going to stand, “I- I should go and get changed”

Y/N chuckles at that, not bothering to stand, “You should definitely change” she agrees, “Romanoff is gonna kick your ass if she catches you roaming the halls like that”

His laugh is silent, it’s embarrassed but real. He nods in agreement and catches Bucky’s eye.

“I’ll see ya’ around, Buck” he promises, “and remember, if either of you need anythin’ then just-”

“let you know” Y/N chimes in softly, “We will, I promise, but for right now, I think we just need some time to settle in.”

He smiles at that, and nods in agreement, offering her a two fingered salute as he turns to leave.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | x | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

[jimmerzz0905]

mythical incorrect quotes because why the fuck not

(also there are some mentions of shit like alcohol and stuff under the cut so uhh)

Yawstrich: *tries to make the child laugh*

Anglow: *tries to play a game with the child to make them calm down*

G’joob: *gives detailed instructions to the parents*

Cherubble: *cries with the child*

Strombonin: *ignores the child*

Hyehehe: *is the reason why the child is crying*

—

Hyehehe: What's wrong with you?

Strombonin: Off the top of my head, I'd say low self-esteem, a lack of paternal affection, and a genetic predisposition for anxiety and depression.

—

Strombonin: Happy Throwback Thursday. Here’s a throwback to when Yawstrich ate an entire fucking tube of lipstick.

Yawstrich, whining: But why would it be cherry-flavored if you can’t eat it?!

—

Cherubble: Am I a boy? Am I a girl? It doesn't matter. I'm going to burn your house down and then take a nap.

—

G’joob: And now for a gay update with Yawstrich and Strombonin.

Yawstrich: Getting gayer!

G’joob: Thank you, Yawstrich.

—

G’joob, holding in his laughter: Hey, how do you ask a glass of water what it’s doing?

Strombonin: A glass of water is an inanimate object. Therefore, it's incapable of having a thought process or understanding basic Monstrous.

G’joob:

G’joob: Water you doing?

—

Yawstrich: Oh, fiddlesticks! That really ruffles my feathers!

Strombonin: Please, just say fuck…

—

Cherubble: The last time I went to an urgent care clinic, I checked off 'excessive crying' on the symptom list, and then the nurse got really confused and said that was meant for babies.

—

Yawstrich: *texting* Hey can you pick me up I’m drunk.

Yawstrich: Oh you don't have to anymore. I'm home now.

Strombonin: Yes, I'm aware of that after dropping you off at home.

—

Hyehehe, with a headache: Advil me up, daddy.

Cherubble: I will short out the language centre of your brain if you say anything like that ever again.

—

Strombonin: I’m the sexiest bitch in this therapy waiting room.

—

Cherubble: Truth or dare?

Anglow: Truth.

Cherubble: How many hours have you slept this week?

Anglow:

Anglow: Dare.

Cherubble: Go to sleep.

Anglow: I don't like this game.

—

Cherubble: Today at 7 am, Hyehehe poured a Monster Energy drink in their coffee, said "I'm going to die" and drank the whole thing.

Yawstrich: I watched Hyehehe brew their coffee with Monster instead of water. Three cups in two hours. I think he’s ascended into the astral realm.

Strombonin: The survivability of the Monster race never fails to amaze me.

—

Hyehehe: And I’d love to be sorry for that, but we all know I’ve done much, much worse.

—

Yawstrich: Oh, Strombonin! We have a visitor!

Strombonin: Don’t tell me it’s Hyehehe.

Yawstrich: It’s Hyehehe.

—

Anglow: What time is it?

Hyehehe: I don’t know, pass me that saxophone and we’ll find out.

Anglow: *hands Hyehehe the saxophone*

Hyehehe: *fucking BLASTS the saxophone*

G’joob: WHO THE FUCK IS PLAYING THE SAXOPHONE AT TWO IN THE FUCKING MORNING?!

Hyehehe: It’s 2 am

—

G’joob: That's it, I'm cutting off the internet!

Cherubble: No, please don't! I have a family to feed!

G’joob: …

G’joob: What?

Cherubble: I need to feed my Neopets!

—

Yawstrich: To everyone who has treated me poorly; I am sexier than you.

—

G’joob: I left instructions for everyone while I'm gone.

Hyehehe: Mine just says "Hyehehe, no."

G’joob: I want you to apply it to every possible situation.

—

Yawstrich: I didn't drink THAT much last night!

G’joob: You were flirting with Strombonin.

Yawstrich: So what? They're my boyfriend.

G’joob: You asked if they were single.

Yawstrich: …

G’joob: And then you cried when they said he wasn’t.

—

Strombonin: Sorry I'm late to the party. I've been… doing things.

Yawstrich, entering dizzy and covered in kisses: I got caught up doing things too.

Hyehehe: Wow, Strombonin was late too! What a coincidence!

—

Yawstrich: You know what I asked Yool for Yay this year?

Strombonin: If you say me, I swear I’ll—

Yawstrich: You? What? No, I asked him for that cool Lego Ninjago set we saw in Target!

—

Strombonin: My life is a little too much panic and not enough disco.

Yawstrich: My life is a little too much fall and not enough boy.

G’joob: My life is a little too much chemical and not enough romance.

Hyehehe: My life is a little too much imagination and not nearly enough dragons.

—

and that’s it lol

[bihansthot]

Fuck global warming, it’s 52 in February in Michigan! All I needed this morning was my hoodie and it was fucking HOT in the hospital but I was cheeky and didn’t wear a bra today because of my oversized hoodie and man did I regret it, my big naturals need a bra lol I had my annual heart appointment this morning though so I would have had to take it off anyway so I said fuck it entirely. This morning was so stressful, my blood draw was really easy so very thankful for that but the hospital app was down this morning so we didn’t know where to go and the front desk sent us to the main hospital’s PET scan department when I apparently needed to be in the PET scan department in the cardiovascular center. So, I had to walk all over the various buildings to finally get to the right department and was a tad late but thankfully I was the only appointment so it wasn’t a big deal. For fucking once in my life they got the IV in the first try 😭 I almost cried, I’m such a hard stick it usually takes 4-5 attempts to start an IV on me. So, I was very thankful it went in so easily, it burned really badly though, or at least the medication did. They inject you with radioactive dye to make everything show up and then give you medication to simulate exercise all while you’re in an MRI machine to get imaging of the heart. It’s such a weird sensation, you go from half falling asleep to suddenly feeling like your sprinting in seconds, it’s not necessarily unpleasant but it is odd but like I mentioned earlier the medication burned quite a bit going in. The imaging was apparently sufficient even though the drug didn’t do its job as well as it was supposed to because they sent me home in a timely fashion. I got back home and took a very long nap and apparently the girl who wrapped my IV didn’t wrap it tight enough because the dresssing was soaked in blood when I took it off later. It’s bruised but not awfully. All in all things went better than they could have. Downside my labs aren’t good at all. My tacrolimus level is an 8 it’s supposed to be between 4-6, so that’s not good but reasonably easy to fix, they’ll just lower my dose again and repeat labs next week most likely. The really bad thing though is my liver is crazy out of whack again, which really blows. It might be as easily explained as my enzymes are spiked because I just got over the flu but last time it was this high is when I had CMV. I’ll get my results for the CMV test tomorrow. In more news no one cares about but I over share is my parathyroid is very high which is actually good because it finally explains my chronic fatigue and weird appetite lately. Hopefully they can get it under control and my energy levels will return and I might be able to do things again. In small good things my kidneys are stable, they’re stage 3b kidney failure but they’ve also been there for like 7 years so they’re not getting worse, dance party time.

TL:DR: I’m still dying slowly but instead of just my heart and kidneys doing the dirty work now my liver is back on board for murder too.

[novocaineheart]

Fronnie Week 2024 Day 4 - Cuddling or nap-time

Boyfriend's Shirt

Those lazy laundry days. (TBC in a NSFW manner for day 7)

Rating: Teen Fandom: Five Nights At Freddy's Security Breach Pairing: Glamrock Freddy/Glamrock Bonnie Characters: Glamrock Freddy, Glamrock Bonnie Universe: Alternate Universe, Furry AU, Anthropomorphic

Freddy use to only think of Sundays as any other day. He and Bonnie would spend the morning doing chores in Bonnie’s parent’s guest house where they lived then the band would come over to practice and find gigs. Occasionally he’d cover someone’s shift at the arcade but even if he’d lose half his weekend the extra pay was good. But that was just before he turned twenty one, before the band made it big with a record label, before he found out Bonnie had been in love with him since he was seventeen, before he realized he was in love with Bonnie too. With a sizable advanced payment from their new label they moved out of the guest house into a loft apartment together in downtown L.A. with Chica living across the hall from them.

Their days were much more flexible now, two years later. After returning from touring there was only time to relax. Chores were done around their schedule now but Sundays would always be laundry day. It also meant the rest of the day was spent lounging around in little clothing.

That was what Freddy was doing now, lounging in the middle of their bed in just his briefs reading a book. Bonnie had gone down stairs to get their clothes out of the dryer before he joined him but he seemed to be taking his time. Freddy looked to his right out the warehouse windows at the downtown skyline when he heard Bonnie’s steps coming up the stairs, his ears peeking over the loft railing. Except he was walking up them sideways for some reason.

Bonnie had been wearing shorts and a hoodie but swapped them for a little less, the hoodie for one of Freddy’s old graphic tees he’d long stolen to sleep in. His shorts were gone, instead just wearing the high waisted skimpy black thong he had on underneath. He slowly sauntered towards the bed with a purposeful swing in his hips, sultry look on his face and hands behind his back clearly hiding something from Freddy’s view.

“What do you have behind your back?”

“Moi?” Bonnie feigned his innocence.

“Yes you.”

“Well since you asked.” Bonnie cocked his hip. “You told me how much you love that book your reading, so I got you the second one,” Bonnie pulled back his left hand with the sequel, “and the third.” Then pulled out his right holding the last book.

He put them on the bed then crawled over it to straddle Freddy’s lap with his hands on his belly. “You’re welcome.”

“Thank you Bon.” Freddy smiled at him then lifted Bonnie’s hand to kiss his knuckles.

“That’s all the thanks I get?” Bonnie humped. “I’ll have you know I went through a great struggle to get those books.”

“Yes I’m sure it was very hard to get them off a website you constantly use.”

“Hey it’s not fault Amazon is like the only place I can get sexy underwear for guys.” Bonnie smirked with a little grind of his hips.

He started running his hands up Freddy’s chest before lying down on him with his head on his chest and sighing contently, Freddy wrapping his left arm over his waist to hold him to him.  

“Read to me?”

Freddy was more than happy too. Bonnie never needed to know what the story was about, he just loved to hear him read. While he read Freddy slowly ran his fingers over Bonnie’s side making the rabbit fall asleep at some point. He stopped reading to look at him, his lover, his best friend and couldn’t help but wonder if his legs would get sore at some point, though Bonnie was pretty use to spreading his legs…

[eclipsedcrystalstar]

SAMS Lunar: The results are in, I’m afraid you have updog… Moon: What’s updog? SAMS Lunar: Solar! Get in here, I told you I could do it!

SAMS Lunar: The only thing I'm guilty of is being adorable... ...and also assault with a deadly weapon.

SAMS Lunar: Today at 7 am, Sun poured a Monster energy drink in their coffee, said "I'm going to die" and drank the whole thing. Solar: I watched Sun brew their coffee with Monster instead of water. Three cups in two hours. I think they ascended into the astral realm. Moon: The survivability of the robot race never fails to amaze me.

Solar: Guess what I'm about to get! Crystalverse Lunar: On my nerves.

Solar: Can you pass the salt? Crystalverse Lunar: Can you pass away? Solar: Too much salt.

SAMS Lunar: Are you reading fan fiction? Sun, reading an article about extremely rare diseases: Wh- No. SAMS Lunar: Oh, is it on AO3? Sun: This is CNN.

Solar: How’s practice going? SAMS Lunar: Terrible. I want to stab everybody there. Solar: Okay, just don’t get any blood on your clothes. SAMS Lunar: …you shouldn’t be condoning this. Solar: Don’t tell me how to live my life.

Moon: We’re playing Scrabble. It’s a nightmare. Sun: Scrabble? Scrabble’s great. Moon: Not when you’re playing with Solar, it’s not. They put words like “ephemeral” and I put “dog.”

SAMS Lunar: Help! I’m drowning! Sun: Calm down. We’re only in six feet of water! SAMS Lunar: NOT ALL OF US ARE TALL!

Moon: Self care is stuff like taking a bubble bath or putting on a lot of make up if you like that, or taking a nice warm nap and stuff like that basically. Solar: Self care is the burning heat when rage washes over you. self care is when you feel the bones crack under your powerful fists. self care is the fear in your enemies eyes. Monty: Self care is stealing someones birthday cake just to eat the frosting. Solar: If you touch my birthday cake I’ll make you eat your hands.

Bonnie: May luck (and this picture of Moon eating shredded cheese at 3 in the morning) be with you.

Bonnie: How many siblings do you have? Solar: Biologically, legally, or emotionally? Because there is a difference.

Sun: Solar just insisted Moon and I remember a code word in case we’re ever confronted by their clone or a cyborg doppelgänger and we’re not sure which is the real them and which is the imposter. Sun: Some families have a fire escape plan, but not us.

Bonnie: Imagine if someone handed you a box full of all the things you lost throughout your life. SAMS Lunar It would be nice to have my sense of purpose back… Sun: Oh wow, my childhood innocence! Thank you for finding this. Solar: My will to live! I haven't seen this in years. Monty: I knew I lost that potential somewhere. Moon: Mental stability, my old friend! Bonnie: Jesus, could you guys lighten up a little?

Freddy: Solar, I sense hostility. Solar: Good, because I hate you.

Solar: Everyone, calm down! We're grown-ups, let's deal with this like adults! Sun: So, we're just going to wing it and hope for the best? Solar: Obviously. Now, Lunar, pass the shovel.

[goodfish-bowl]

EctoberHaunt and Ectober Week 2022 Master Post

Happy Halloween! Here’s my complete collections of prompts for this month. Big thanks to those over at @ectoberhaunt and @ectoberweekofficial for the prompts! All fills should be correctly tagged, fics contain summaries and AO3 links, and please do mind the warnings if they’re there.

All my Ectoberhaunt22 fics can also be found here on AO3

Ectoberhaunt22

Day 3 - Order: Order to Entropy (poem)

Day 3 - Chaos: Refraction Chapter 3: Break to Build (fic)

Day 4 - Box: All Boxed Up (art)

Day 4 - Staff: Spirit of Rock (art)

Day 5 - Wraith: Paved with Good Intentions (fic)

Day 5 - Banshee: The Last One (art)

Day 6 - Burn: Fevour (fic)

Day 6 - Freeze: A Mercy (fic)

Day 7 - Purify & Infect: Detox(ic) (art)

Day 10 - Hunger: Taste Test (fic)

Day 10 - Harvest: Harvest Moon (art)

Day 11 - Drown: A Nap with the Fishes (fic)

Day 11 - Thirst: A Craving to be Sated (fic)

Day 12 - A Way of Life & Cause of Death: A Way of Death (fic)

Day 13 - Restored: Humanity Restored (comic)

Day 13 - Abandoned: The Haunting of Amity Park: Part 1: The Neon District (fic)

Day 14 - Haunted House: The Haunting of Amity Park:Part 2:  FentonWorks (fic)

Day 14 - Costume Party: Double Trouble (art)

Day 18 - Eyes: A Trick of the Light (animation)

Day 18 - Teeth: Teeth Bared (art)

Day 19 - One & One Hundred: Hall of a Hundred Eyes (art)

Day 21 - Coronation: The Dragon Queen (art)

Day 24 - Future: The Price of Knowing (art)

Day 24 - Past: Too Dead for This: Chapter 1: Seven Years is a Long Time (fic)

Ectober Week 2022

Day 26 - Six Feet: I’ll Come Home if You Call (poem and art)

Day 28 - “Psst, you’re dead. Pass it on.“: Two Paths (animation)

Unprompted

Cosmic Perspective (art)

Dead and Gone (transparent art)

Squeaky Toy (animation)

Ectoberhaunt21 Master Post

Commentary Under the Cut

It has been supremely challenging and fun to do all of these prompts! I know I’m not a super prolific author and artist, but I really enjoy events like this. While it’s been hard on me to produce this sheer amount of content, it was engaging and active, giving me something to do and has motivated me to put out more content in a month than I would normally do in a year on my own. I also love seeing the improvement in my content from this year to last year, when I first took part in this event, along as throughout the event itself, I noticed improvement. While I might not have been able to fill all of the prompts I had planned to do, I also did much more than I originally planned as well, shooting to fill all of the prompts, both for each day. But with 29 fills, 3 of which have no prompt at all, instead inspired by other things throughout the event, I’m satisfied.

I’ve had so much fun throughout this entire event, from planning my fills, to the story line made up by the Ectoberhaunt crew, to drawing and writing my fills themselves. But of all of them, I do have some favorites.

I found my trend of horrible angst holds true, with some of my most severe fill, at least in my opinion, being Paved with Good Intentions. Vlad’s perspective of Danny’s grief was definitely something I found fun to write.

I noticed I used a lot of Outside, or limited perspective, especially with The Haunting of Amity Park, where you only get the perspective from the camera, so it ended up being mostly descriptions and dialog. The morticians perspective in A Way of Death was also amusing to write.

I tried out a lot of different art techniques this year as well. I messed with my style, bouncing back and forth between a more semi-realistic style and then a more cartoon-esque style for the more humorous fills, and then the simplistic style for a few other ones. I definitely think I’ve improved over the past month, just due to the sheer amount of art alone. The animations were fun themselves.

My ask box is always open if you want to talk to me about a particular piece.

See ya around!

[creatorjewels]

I’m incredibly proud of myself these days.

Career:

Only good things coming my way. New counseling center is expanding and the women in charge is young and started her practice with her LPC-A because she was fed up with having a masters and only making $30 an hour. I meet with her team last week of this month and I’ll get to start taking clients from her office which is 11 mins away from my place. I’ll make $90 per hr starting at 10-15 monthly. I can’t wait to feel challenged and fulfilled in my career again.

My agency is growing we closed a non-alcoholic mom & pop shop in Austin, TX. Huge win and we have another big closing next Monday. I’m building out proposals and taking new client alignments every week. The goal is 7 clients that can all contribute to our monthly meetup.

Which we’ve already sold tickets, bless up. Need to hit up previous attendees, and try to hit a goal of 50 paid tickets. We closed a partnership with the city of Dallas to host at Deep Ellum Foundation community center! I was worried about getting a speaker system since they don’t provide one then my client offered her old one since her company just got a new one! Even got a small sponsorship for the coffee at the event. Now I just need to go thrifting for serving apparatuses. I do want to get the local org DFWCPG involved. Try to get some of their members to serve their food/drinks at the event each month.

My mom and I are working together. Trying to help her sell this one piece of land. I know it sounds like I’m entitled but tbh she started off selling mobile homes and was a single parent mom. She BUILT this business and I don’t want her hard work to go to waste. I reached out to a couple of friends in the commercial and residential arena to see if there is any interest in their networks. Fingers crossed.

My personal Patreon for music & HTBS is doing incredibly well. By that I mean they are both making money. I’m still creating music, doing beat nights & I just applied for a reality tv show.

I had this moment where I realized everything I do makes money now. That’s incredible to me.

Go me.

Love:

FUCCKKKKK THIS MAN GOT ME FEELING NEW THINGS. His name is BLEEP (taken out for protection). I like him. He makes me soft and honest. I’m not scared to be shy with him or be honest about how crazy I can be. I’m worried I’ll loose him cause I like him so much but I’m also at the point where I’m okay with trusting him. Letting him be. Thankful for this new love it’s feels like high school. I’m screwed once we start screwing. 😂

Family:

I’m actually a cited to go to Oklahoma for Thanksgiving this year. To see my family, sit around, go on n walks, talk about random stuff, and force them to make content with me. I’m going to pull out my music skills too and see if they want to make a song with me. Mostly I’m just ready to eat food and take a fat nap knowing I’m lived by some really amazing humans I get to call family. Even if we don’t agree on life we can agree we love each other.

Friends:

I had a moment today where I MISSED my friends. It was weird cause it was new. I think before I was always worried about keeping my friends. Instead of genuinely missing them. It’s this feeling of peace or desiring piece during a busy work day. Knowing they are out there in the world pursuing their dreams too.

[rose-tinted-nostalgia]

Legitimately, if anything describes my anxious, adhd thought process it’s been the last hour of my life. 

I’m starving, and I haven’t eaten all day, but the stores right now & the traffic is too stressful to navigate. Both times I went out these last two days I almost got hit multiple times, and I”m still too traumatized from my car accident to willingly deal with that, so I’m like I’m going to order Uber eats. When I go to order, I notice it’s not charging me a delivery fee because I have Uber One. I’ve never signed up for Uber one. I haven’t even used uber eats in like 7 months, so I’m like how long have I been accidentally paying for this. I log into paypal where the charge came from, and I notice it’s been going on for four months which doesn't make sense, but I email uber about it, and I cancel it, and maybe they’ll refund me who knows. But anyway, while I’m in my Paypal, I notice I’m still being charged $4 a month for the NY times. I signed up for this in college as a class requirement, and could never figure out how to cancel it because logging into the NY times never registered me as having an account to even cancel, and being me, I’m always like well I’ll deal with that later, and never did, and paypal shows I got charged $368 over the course of the last several years, so I’m like great. So I email the NY times FINALLY and I’m like listen, I have ADHD, and I never canceled this because it was too much energy. I have no idea what email it’s under because I could never access it. Can you please cancel it for me? And then, I’m like you know what, that felt great why don’t I do this with everything, so thinking of the NY times made me think of books, and how I haven’t gone back to the library in two years because I never returned 4 books I checked out, and I was too embarrassed to go back, so I just called the library, and said as much, and the lady was so sweet, and she told me which books I have out, and told me if I can’t find them, there might be a fee, but sometimes they’ll even forgive it, and that was also a weight lifted off my shoulders. But now it’s been an hour, and I still haven’t ordered food, and instead, I went on a hunt through my kids room looking for these library books, and now my head hurts, and I’m ready for a nap.

[theperfectblonde]

Tumblr camera is shit lol but I did 28 minutes. For maybe two of those I did a light jog at like 5… so that was my big step for the day 😂

Slowly trying to work my way up because my muscles are so weak and I’ve lost basically all my strength and cardio. Even walking makes my chest tight sometimes. It’s shitty not being able to push myself the way that I used to, but I can see small improvements every day. I’m going to try and keep it that way so that when I go back home in another week, I’ll be able to go on a daily walk AND a daily jog.

My left leg used to feel like it was cramping at the knee constantly from being bent sitting all the time I think, and my ankles used to ache. It wasn’t unbearable, but it was annoying and it was constant. After being consistent with walking for only a few days now I’ve noticed that I hardly feel it at all. Getting the blood flowing feels like it’s taken it away.

Today was also the first time in probably a year where I’ve woken up and I felt genuinely refreshed. I got a solid 7 hours of sleep and didn’t sleep in, and although I had a tiny nap I’m actually going to go to bed on time tonight I think??

I’ve been eating pretty clean also, and even though I’m tired it’s a different kind of tired. Like I’ve EARNED being tired, instead of waking up tired. Its not much of a difference, and yet it’s noticeable and it feels so good.

As much as I want to get skinny again, the core of losing weight for me has always been to be healthy. Obviously I fail at that pretty often on either end of the spectrum lmao. My mindset though is that it doesn’t matter what I look like aesthetically in the sense that it doesn’t have to be perfect - I just have to be happy with it, but most importantly I have to FEEL good. Looking good while feeling like shit honestly just isn’t worth it. I’m trying to balance that out still.

But…. I’m busting out of my jeans. So…. Obviously we’re leaning more towards one end. But this is maybe my like… idk 3rd time coming back to this blog? And my SW is significantly lower than every time I’ve tried. I’m just going to be casual about it and not push myself so hard, because my baseline is so wildly different this time around.

Just gentle and consistent and clean. I am… tempted to go weigh myself tomorrow morning after going to the bathroom in an empty stomach to see where I’m at - but I already know I’m not going to be happy with the number. I really really don’t want to see it, because I know it’ll make me feel like shit.

But looking in the mirror - I feel like I need to know it, so I know what my limit is. I feel like for the rest of my life, this is the biggest I will ever want to be. This is the weight where I don’t feel good looking at my body in the mirror. It’s not bad, but it doesn’t make me happy. I don’t feel proud or sexy looking back at myself.

So… I’m still thinking about it… but maybe I need to know. Maybe I’ll take a photo and not look at the scale and then look at it at a later date when I’ve lost a little more…? Cause then it won’t feel so bad.

We’ll see how I feel tomorrow. All I know is that being away from my boyfriend’s family has given me a sense of ease and peace that I really need to get back to, and it’s letting me finally do what I need to do. I desperately need my own place, but everything’s falling through.

[ellpimento]

Dec23

What I wanted to kvetch about was how pointless it is to get sick, and how freaking inconvenient it is to be laid out, incapacitated, there’s no reason to be forced to take a time out like this especially at this time of year when you can least afford it. This will be the second time I’ve gotten the vid and I had better not lose my sense of taste, or I’m going to be really really mad. There is nothing more frustrating and saddening than looking at food and not being able to smell or taste it. I'll deal with an extra day, heck, I'll be in pain all week long as long as it means I won't lose my taste buds for the next two months.

Yes, I love eating. My stomach's certainly shrunk during this time, which was probably needed. But this malaise and need to nap around and head inside a fish tank feeling need to go stat.

Yes, there are times where it is convenient to be sick (preferably for a day, two days at the most) when there are people to be shunned, events to be avoided, and there just isn’t really a nicer way to go about it than to (honestly, of course) pronounce yourself stuck under the blankets due to the flu or what have you. But apart from that, being ill for any length of time past two days is just a serious inconvenience and a loss of money. If I could get sick on my vacation over a regular work week, I would always pick on vacation.

Did I mention I hate being sick? It’s been a week now and I was ready for it to be over with 5 days ago.

Other Reflections

We are officially closing upon the end of the year, and what have I really accomplished? A lot, actually, even a tiny bit with the writing. I used to do year-end reviews of accomplishments and whatnot, but I can’t be bothered to think that hard anymore if I don’t have to. Someone asked recently ‘what’s the best thing about getting older’ and I responded with: it gets easier to let things be and carry on with your own life. What sort of Freudian slip that is, I’m not really sure, other than it’s just a nicer way of saying ‘I don’t really give a crap about other people or their perceptions anymore and I’m perfectly happy doing my own thing instead of trying to keep up with the crowd.’ Which is the long and short of everything I’ve been doing these past few years. Giving less a crap and focusing more on restructuring my priorities, letting go of bad habits, and improving upon life in general. Especially this year, I’ll say. There’s been a lot of change this year, there’ll be heck more in the next year, so I’m really trying my best right now to enjoy everything and not fight too hard against the grain.

The hardest part of this whole process of changing for the better and making time for the things that do matter is not beating myself up for not working 24/7, or being unable to work due to being sick. Yes, I was back at work feverishly laboring after 2 days of being ill because if I can get out of bed, I can go to work. Which is a sad reflection of how much of a horrible taskmaster I would be, probably am (that’s just a sniffle, now blow your nose and get back to work), just ask my kids, and that I really need to take a step back and reflect on taking care of myself and others. ‘Take care of yourself first’ comes out of my mouth often, but yet my brain expects them to poo-poo that phrase like I do, ignore the pains and just keep slogging away. And this is all because I really really need to make a dollar and screw everything else including myself, well, I tell people they’re not 20 years old anymore, but at this point, I’d better adjust that to ‘you’re not 30 anymore, take it easy.’

Tl;dr: Will this vid go away already, I don’t have time for it and I can’t afford being sick. I’ve made some improvements this year, but learning to be nice to myself is still a seemingly unachievable feat. I’ve a feeling next year is going to be another hard lesson.

[imnotactuallygoingtousethis]

So, Sunday was meant to be my first pride fest since “officially” coming out

(in reality I just settled on some labels that work decent enough, I’ve long held that I felt like a part of the queer community but had been told for years I was wrong and look at me cmon of course I’m cishet. The only thing that changed is I stopped letting other people have a say in how I see myself)

Since I’ve always been so averse to labeling myself and have been open about myself for so long maybe she didn’t think it was a big deal. Maybe I’ve been so content I never brought up that I’d “officially come out”. Idk I’m trying to hold space for the possibility it was a misunderstanding. But it fucking hurt when she cancelled AFTER we were supposed to be there already.

I asked her and my sibling if they’d come with me (I’m too scared to go alone, not because of bigots, just social phobia) months in advance.

I gave warnings two weeks and one week in advance. Tried to start planning transport days in advance cuz I knew we were all bad at texting quickly. She even kept tabs on the weather so I thought we were fine. We knew it might rain but I said if it did they should both come over to my place and we can celebrate anyway. I tried… I really, really tried. Sent a book in texts trying to coordinate the night before, no response.

Got up early the morning of, excited. Tried to keep busy, did laundry, dishes, started getting dressed. I bought trans tape for the event and wasted a lot of it figuring how to apply it lol. It was cool seeing myself mostly flat chested, just a lil bit of boobage. Ever since I was a kid I wanted “chick boobs”, just enough to be a boob but with my pecs on full display. I was trying to hold wait to express the excitement and gender euphoria. I wanted to wait until it was closer to leave before I did sunscreen and glitter though.

So I waited. I’d sent another text at 7 am so I was waiting for a confirmation from either person that noon was a good time to head out, or where we wanted to meet (I’d asked a week ago, no response). And I kept waiting, at 11:30-45 or so I fell into a brief nap.

At like, 1:30 I woke up to a text from my sister timestamped around 12:30 saying she’d leave in an hour. (Um leave to where? I’d suggested meeting at ur place and no one responded?!) and a couple texts from my friend explaining that her and her partner were going over finances to buy a house and so she could not go with. She waited until after my sibling texted and then flaked immediately.

If she was up since 8 she def saw my text from 7. I don’t get why she wouldn’t have let me know asap. Or honestly, I don’t get why she wouldn’t have told her boyfriend that the financial shit needed to wait for a day. I tried to make sure everyone had plenty of time to schedule around our plans.

In fact- I KNOW I left enough time for them to schedule around it. The sister asks if I still wanted to go, but at that point it was 2 and it would have taken practically an hour to get there and park; I was too dejected to leave my apartment anyway so I said no. She said she’d try to stop by but never did.

I want to be nice to them because of all the space for misunderstanding, so I’m writing this instead. Maybe I’ll share my hurt with my sib and my best friend, one day. But for now I just need to let it be known how distraught I feel. How abandoned and unimportant I felt slowly removing the tape from my chest in the mirror, watching myself blink back tears in part of the outfit I’d picked out hours before my plans were canceled.

My last pride was my sister’s first since she’d come out as bi. I was excited to help her have their moment. Helped apply flag themed eyeshadow and got my anxious, crowd-averse ass out the door to make sure she wouldn’t be alone. Am I selfish for wanting someone to do the same for me?

I deserve my first pride. I’m not waiting a whole year. I’m having my own little pride this friday hopefully. I wanna do it while it’s still June otherwise I’d do it on Monday before my weekend. Me myself and I will be having an awesome lil personal pride celebration; complete with any rainbow snacks I can find and some fruity drinks. My boyfriend will probably throw more Will and Grace on, and I can wallow with the one person who’s always there for me.

[blahandwhatever]

Physical wins and fails

1. Cannot. belieeeeve we still don’t have air conditioning. After all the heat and humidity we’ve suffered already this spring. With the cold clearly being over. Some days it makes me feel downright aggressive.

2. I cut my hair again, and felt pretty good about it, though there were some small imperfections. I then tweaked things a few times, and I think I made it worse. -_- Really need to learn to leave a good thing alone. The sweat and humidity at home only make things worse and make it harder to really get an accurate view of how good or bad things look.

3. Some items of clothing are an infuriating combination of perfect (I want this to last forever!!), delicate, and susceptible to getting caught on door handles.

4. I guess, as far as staying in shape and not freaking out before summer goes, I’m doing a little better each year, with room still left for improvement. And I’ve already done my first long and difficult breaking-into-summer walk, in Chicago.

5. My teeth are finally clean, excavated from under a decade of gunk. I don’t know when I’ll be able to afford to continue with the dental work, though. I also keep failing to get in the habit of brushing my teeth after coffee, but I’ll get there.

6. My floors are finally clear of boxes, furniture pieces, and other mess, and cleaning at home is relatively under control. My plans to have all my furnishing and decorating done by now were foiled, but I guess I can enjoy the break from the messes and efforts and thinking about that stuff in general for a while.

7. Despite the promising start, the remainder of the cabinet assembly involved a great deal of procrastination, partly due to annoying steps I didn’t want to deal with, partly due to noisy nailing I kept not getting to early enough in the day (they have got to invent quiet nailing! the noise!! the horrendous noise!). Most of it went fine, until I got close to the end and found that the inside part of the drawers was not wide enough to fit in the drawer slides, which ruined everything. Frankly, I was feeling very unsure about this cabinet by this point, and this kind of make the final decision for me. Except that I wasn’t going to disassemble, repackage, and ship this thing back. I contacted the seller about a potential refund, which has been a dragged-out back and forth, and I don’t think it’s going to happen. Either way, I’m getting rid of this thing.

8. I’ve continued to have a lot of weird feelings/states, both mental and physical, though slowly, with ups and downs, I am getting ever closer to normal. It’s abundantly clear by now that mold, lack of iron, and too much sleep are my biggest physical mind killers, and I still sometimes fail to stay on top of them all.

9. I keep getting sleepy around 4 AM, which is good, really, but my schedule still hasn’t really adjusted to this, and too many times now, I’ve made the mistake of taking a nap - often stretched out too long - instead of just powering through until bedtime.

10. I’ve somewhat fallen out of the habit of sleeping on my back and need to fix that. Most of the Tumblr ladies I follow these days have a lot of contempt for anti-aging efforts, which I totally get, but I’m sorry, I’m going to keep on playing this game.