#SOMEONE WHO WIELDS A WEAPON NAMED AFTER YOU

[lesbianbatlucille]

thinking about negans first deadly interaction with a walker..

he was outside their home trying to get the generator up and running after the power went out, and a walker grabs him from behind while lucille was keeping watch. while it's trying to bite his arms and neck lucille rushes up behind it and whacks it in the head with a frying pan and she's so spooked she keeps hitting it when it's down. negan has to drag her away and comfort her, trying to wipe the blood off of her face while she's hyperventilating.

when they get back inside she's convinced that she just killed a person and negan thinks that she did aswell... but he doesn't say it and instead he tries to make her feel better by saying that they were sick and violent and she did the right thing.

Thinking about a conversation a few days after this where she’s like "I fucked up. You either hate me or you should." And he’s so dead serious about "No I could never, you Did The Right Thing"

and now thinking about an au where she lived but they got separated, and they're together again for the first time in months/years and she starts seeing through the cracks how deranged he is and remembers that conversation...And feels sick about it..

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Bowen McCurdy and Jordan Morris’s “Youth Group”

NEXT SATURDAY (July 20), I'm appearing in CHICAGO at Exile in Bookville.

Youth Group is Bowen McCurdy and Jordan Morris's new and delightful graphic novel from Firstsecond. It's a charming tale of 1990s ennui, cringe Sunday School – and demon hunting.

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250789235/youthgroup

Kay is a bitter, cynical teenager who's doing her best to help her mother cope with an ugly divorce that has seen her dad check out on his former family. Mom is going back to church, and she talks Kay into coming along with her to attend the church youth group.

This is set in the 1990s, and the word "cringe" hasn't yet entered our lexicon as an adjective, but boy is the youth group cringe. The pastor is a guitar-strumming bearded dad who demonstrates how down he is with the kids by singing top 40 songs rewritten with evangelical lyrics (think Weird Al meets the 700 Club). Kay gamely struggles through a session and even makes a friend or two, and agrees to keep attending in deference to her mother's pleas.

But this is no ordinary youth group. Kay's ultra-boring suburban hometown is actually infested with demons who routinely possess the townspeople, and that baseline of demonic activity has suddenly gone critical, with a new wave of possessions. Suddenly, the possessed are everywhere – even Kay's shitty dad ends up with a demon inside of him.

That's when Kay discovers that the youth group and its corny pastor are also demon hunters par excellence. Their rec-rooms sport secret cubbies filled with holy weapons, and the words of exorcism come as readily to them as any embarrassing rewritten devotional pop song. Kay's discovery of this secret world convinces her that youth group isn't so bad after all, and soon she is initiated into its mysteries, including the existence of rival demon-hunting kids from the local synagogue, Catholic church, and Wiccan coven.

As the nature of the new demonic incursion becomes clearer, it falls on Kay and her pals to overcome these sectarian divisions over the protests of their guitar-strumming, magic-wielding leader. That takes on a special urgency when Kay learns why the demons are interested in her, personally, and a handful of other kids in town who all share a secret trait.

I confess that as someone who lived through the 1990s as a young man, there is something disorienting about experiencing the decade of my young adulthood through the kind of retro lens I associate with the 1950s or 1960s. But while the experience is disorienting, it's not unpleasant. McCurdy's artwork and Morris's snappy dialog conjure up that bygone decade in a way that is simultaneously affectionate and critical, exposing the hollowness of its performative ennui and the brave face that performance represented even as the world was being swept up in corporate gigantism.

McCurdy and Morris are really onto something here, implicitly asking us why the 1990s gave us Buffy and Sabrina (and The Coven, etc etc) – what was it about that decade in which Reaganomics and globalism consolidated the gains of the 1980s, where the climate emergency took on its undeniable urgency, where media monopolies mastered the art of commodifying counterculture faster than it could mutate into new forms?

Morris's writing really shines here. If you enjoyed Bubble, his earlier outing based on the post-apocalyptic comedy podcast of the same name, you will love this one:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/21/podcasting-as-a-visual-medium/#huntr

Morris is also half of Jordan, Jesse Go!, the long-running podcast where he and Jesse Thorn do a weekly ha-ha-only-serious goofball schtick that never fails to smuggle in really clever and insightful ideas amidst the poop jokes.

https://maximumfun.org/podcasts/jordan-jesse-go/

John Hodgman calls nostalgia a "toxic impulse." Church Group deftly avoids nostalgia's trap, managing to be a period piece without falling prey to the Happy Days pathology of ignoring the many flaws and problems of its era. And of course, it's a hoot and a blast.

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

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

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/16/blight/#the-dream-of-the-nineties

[primofate]

A Shot in The Dark (Chapter 2) Wriothesley x fem!reader

Summary: As the upcoming Weapons Master of the town, you've started to take more responsibilities in your father's shop. Little did you know that taking up this job would cause you to get thrown into the messy world of criminals and the messy world of confusing feelings for the Duke of Meropide.

Warnings: blood and talks about the use of blood for something unconventional, some might find it disturbing.

Read other parts: Chapter 1

Wriothesley didn’t show up.

Not the day after, nor the day after that.

At first you wondered if he was thoroughly offended by you not remembering who he was, but on second thought, he didn’t really seem like the type of guy to be offended by someone—especially you—not remembering his name.

And so the days passed by normally, the usual number of customers, the usual number of people walking in and asking general questions about weapons and the like. No sign of Wriothesley, nor any other “celebrity”.

It was a week after meeting the Duke that the shop door nearly flew off its hinges and in came a man with a sword strapped on his back.

You took one look at him—scraggly beard, mid 40s, head of hair that was somewhat long, but tied back into a small tail—and was immediately transported to a conversation with your father.

“We usually don’t judge books by its covers, Y/N, but you’ll know when to deny service to someone,” your father exclaimed, magnifying glass in one hand, pointed at a piece of metal.

You purse your lips at the statement, watching him quietly, until you had to ask. “What do you mean? How would I know if they were good or bad people? There’s no way to tell in such a short amount of time,”

Your father muses a bit, a slight hum emanating from his chest. He puts the magnifying glass down and meets your gaze. “Sometimes, your instincts just know, my dear,” he smiles a tiny one. “Our talent of fixing any weapon in existence may be a mundane skill…but weapons are powerful things Y/N! There are times where we have to stop and think, will I be doing the right thing if I fix this?”

“Good afternoon,” the man speaks and you blink back to present day. He stands confident in front of the counter and pierces you with his gaze. There is nothing inherently wrong with how he looked, but you could tell he wasn’t from Fontaine, and there was a strange feeling of anxiety trying to surface from the bottom of your stomach.

Instinct, huh?

You smile at the man. “Good afternoon,” you reply, eyes darting up to the hilt of his sword, peeking behind his back. “How can I help you today?”

The man moved with a type of grace and fluidity that told you he was no ordinary citizen. He most likely had been wielding a sword for years. His hand came up to the hilt of his sword and he pulled at it until it came off its scabbard, revealing that the blade was a blood red colour.

You controlled a shiver that ran up your spine as the man laid the peculiar looking sword on the counter. On closer inspection, the hilt was a deep purple. And the blade was a natural red colour—for a moment you thought that it had been dipped in blood—it was, to your knowledge, a katana, and a very beautiful albeit uniquely coloured one. The wear and tear was visible and you knew that this weapon was most likely centuries old. You dare not to touch it.

“What’s wrong with it?” You simply ask, prying your eyes away from the weapon and towards the man.

The man doesn’t show any sign of disappointment nor worry. “It’s not as strong as it previously was,” he explained. “I assume it needs a bit of refinement,”

A bit, was an understatement. It needed A LOT of refinement. It was an old blade, anyone could see that, weapons master or not. Your hands hovered above it and you ask, just as you always do ���May I?”

Your hand inched closer as the man nodded and you took time to run your hand over the entirety of the sword. It had…a lot of ill intent. How you could tell, you weren’t quite sure. It was not wholly about its colour, but its aura, and how heavy and tired it looked.

“…I’m sorry, I can’t fix this,”

It’s time for this blade to rest.

You never thought that you would decline someone of service, it just didn’t seem like something that would happen.

“Do you know of Dendrobium flowers?” The man’s voice is rather low, but still smooth and somewhat friendly.

You blink up at him, taken aback by the sudden topic change. “…I can’t say I do,”

He talks, and while he talks he tries to retrieve something from his rucksack. “Dendrobium. A rare and expensive plant, found in Inazuman soil,” he takes a small box and opens it, revealing a blood red flower that you’ve never seen in your life before. “Rumor has it that these plants are watered using blood,”

There’s a small pause. A moment for you to internalize the information he just shared, and you were sure now, that there was something strange going on with your customer.

“…Mmhmm,” you let out quietly with a small nod, not knowing what else to say, feeling the atmosphere in the shop grow colder.

“The bloodier and more brutal the battlefield, the more lovely the Dendrobium blooms,” he closes the box, and hands it over to you. “Consider it, a gift,” he takes his blade in his hand and stretches it out for you to see clearly. “This here, is Muramasa… and the only way to fix him…is to refine him with Dendrobium ore,” He sheathes the katana onto his back and levels his gaze back towards you. “…but, it’s been centuries, since anyone has seen a Dendrobium ore. People say that the Dendrobium flowers crystallize when it’s been watered with enough blood…and yet I haven’t seen a single Dendrobium ore in my life,”

You stay silent, merely letting him finish his story.

“Well then, ma’am, I’ll be on my way. My thanks, for taking a look at Muramasa,” he tips his head forward, turns, footsteps towards the door, pulls it open and he pulls it close again as he leaves.

You stand still, the flower box in your hand. You wait a few minutes before you can completely feel yourself relax back into your normal state—you hadn’t even realized that you had been tense the whole time—and your eyes drop back to the small black box.

…Does he know? I’ll have to tell father about this…

And just as you always do with your other customers, you try to replay the interaction back in your head, to see if you missed anything or if you said anything wrong. The next customer didn’t come in until lunch time, so you were thankful that you had time to unpack your interaction with the strange man whose name you didn’t get.

The more you thought about it, the stranger it had been, or perhaps he was merely an eccentric? Still, it was completely unnecessary to tell a long-winded story about the Dendrobium…what was his purpose?

“You look out of sorts today,” A smug, familiar voice echoes through the shop. Wriothesley is suddenly there, you hadn’t even heard the door open nor the bell ring.

“Oh, Wriothesley,” you absentmindedly let out, snapping out of thought, eyes adjusting to the view in front of you rather than staring off into space. “Welcome back,” you give a small smile, which has the man a little suspicious.

He thought you were just tired, and maybe hungry, it is lunch time after all, but on closer inspection Wriothesley was conscious of the deeper frown lines you wore. Something as subtle as that, he would notice. Having a good eye for detail was one of his job descriptions.

“Ah, she finally remembers my name,” He takes a jab at you, grin appearing on his features. You can’t help the upward tug of your lips, and refrain from rolling your eyes. You don’t get to retort back because he follows up almost immediately: “Something happen?” He has his gauntlets tucked under his arm yet again, his frame seems taller today, or perhaps you were just feeling small after your weird interaction with your earlier customer.

“…Nothing for you to worry about,” You give a real smile this time, eyes darting over to his gauntlets. “Just…mulling over some fixes,”

It was convincing to the normal person, but to Wriothesley, it was a good attempt at diverting his attention from the real problem. Nevertheless, he didn’t push it, and set his gauntlets down on the counter for you. “Brought these back… I would’ve been back earlier but things happened at the Fortress…” he chuckled under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck as if he had done something disappointing.

The sight made you raise an eyebrow in amusement, mouth turning up the slightest bit more. He seemed to have a talent for making people feel at ease. “That’s nothing to apologize for, it’s your job,” your hands rest on his gauntlets, remembering the exact fix that it needed. “I say I’ll be done with this in 3 hours. You can come back for it right around then,”

He made a sound of understanding watching you start to take tools out to finish up the work. Wriothesley seemed to pause for a moment, his weight shifting from his left to his right. “You’re not getting lunch?”

You shake your head no, “I tend not to get hungry when I’m busy…or I guess I get too occupied with things and forget to eat,”

He again indicated that he heard you with a slight hum, but adds “…Well I’m reminding you now. Café Lutece is just down the road from here,” he points his thumb behind him. You look up to blink at him, your mind blank for a moment.

Was he asking you to eat with him or was he telling you to eat by yourself? You weren’t quite sure and you were stuck about what to say, until he made it clearer to you.

“Come on, I haven’t eaten either.” He jerked his head towards the shop door, indicating that he was about to go, and it sounded like he wasn’t going to offer again.

“Mm…” You think aloud, loosening your hold on the screwdriver in your hand. “I…guess I could go,” you decide, and its as if he relaxes the slightest bit more, waiting for you to walk around the counter, then walking ahead to hold the shop door open for you.

As you lock the shop up for lunch, you turn to him when done, somehow completely forgetting about your strange customer earlier, pointing a finger up to make a point “Lunch break is one hour max, otherwise, I’m charging you a late fee!”

Wriothesley chuckles, “and I thought I was a hard worker,” as the two of you walk together towards the restaurant down the road.

[seat-safety-switch]

A friend of mine, who we'll call Shaky Tim because that is legally his first name after an accidental fire at the City Hall records department, is a data scientist. That's a fancy name for someone who works with Microsoft Excel all day. No, not like your job, you barely take Excel out of first gear. Shaky Tim rides that shit like a racehorse.

Big companies pay people like Shaky Tim a lot of money because they have a lot of data. In fact, when you're a big company, it's often more expensive to decide not to record data. They just let customer information, sales reports, advertising feedback, what have you accumulate in a big pile. Then data scientists go through it and boil the whole mess down to a nice report that executives can ignore.

I asked him once, while we were heading to the junkyard to pick up some Dodge Caravan heads, why he got started doing it. He had read a novel, he explained, where the main character had some kind of weapons-grade ability to identify inflection points in data. It was a cool story, but he (Shaky Tim) never thought it could draw him away from his then-career, being a high-flying business type person. He worked for General Motors, or something, I wasn't really paying attention.

That's when his Learjet crashed in the mountains, and he was forced to stay with some friendly monks for the entire winter. Through hard work and meditative repetition, he learned their ways, which had nothing at all to do with data science. When he got back to New York City, though, he discovered that his employer had fired him for not showing up for work for a few days. So he got a book from the library about how to make Microsoft Excel go faster, and now he can make cool charts and need more RAM.

Overall, the most important thing I've learned from Shaky Tim's second career as a math-wielding corporate magician is that you should never throw anything away. Just keep accumulating it in the basement, and eventually someone will come by, crunch the numbers, and tell you that you can save a whole shitload on storage costs by throwing all that stuff away.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 5 - Popped, Cool, and Ready to Go

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: If you want to picture me writing any part of this series, picture someone maniacally giggling to themselves the words “this is a surprise tool that will help us later” as they type. Chapter Title from Stand Up by The Revivalists.

Word Count: 9k...

Chapter Summary/Warnings: An opportunity to flip Sister Sage emerges. Contains usual tags.

Read on A03!

Chapter 4 - Chapter 6

Want to be tagged? Just ask!

“Everything is… disturbingly clean.”

Ben watched Cocksucker and Butcher in the living room, the former looking around in shock as the latter’s gaze bounced between Ben and Her with a half grin.

“Don’t tell me you two started bloody fucking,” he jeered, and Ben didn’t appreciate the speed at which She scoffed.

“Not everyone only thinks with their downstairs brain, Butcher.” She said with an eye roll. “We’re not children you had to put in a time out until we could play nice, we’re adults who found a common ground.”

“The common ground of fucking?” Butcher’s grin spread widely across his face. At the deepening of her glare, he raised his hands in mock surrender. “I don’t doubt you, Love, it’s Soldier Boy who can’t damn well breathe without his dick in something.”

Ben opened his mouth to defend himself, but She somehow beat him to the draw. “Well, Ben’s down to only trying to fuck me twice a day, and it’s the small victories like that which have kept us from killing each other.”

“Ben?” Cocksucker looked between them in befuddled horror. “Since when do you call him Ben?!”

She returned Cocksucker’s stare with a flat look Ben had seen many times and was glad to not currently be on the receiving end of. “It’s his name. I can’t say ‘Soldier Boy’ all the time, that’s a fucking mouthful.”

“Fuck yeah, it is.” Ben winked at Her, a cocky grin spreading across his face as he was met with only an eye roll.

Butcher chuckled, giving Her an amused smirk. “Not fucking, my puckered arsehole.” He paused, his teeth showing as his delight in his own words grew. “Or should I say, your puckered arsehole?”

Cocksucker choked on air. “I’m going to be sick.”

“If he throws up on the carpet, you can not make me clean it, Sunshine.” Ben snapped, eyeing Cocksucker with a grimace. “His weak, pussy stomach ain’t my problem.”

“Oh, I’m sure there’s been worse messes in this room.” Butcher wiggled his eyebrows, and Cocksucker gagged again.

“There’s not much left after to clean,” Ben said with another smug look, unable to find it in him to care how his words fueled the accusations She so clearly wanted to rebuff. She’d live, and all the bitchiness she wielded like a weapon would hopefully circle around into admitting the clear attraction he knew she felt.

“What, you all dried up after forty years asleep?” Butcher sneered.

Ben scowled, taking a rough step in the man’s direction, the drum in his chest abruptly sounding in the distance of his ears. “You want to say that to my fucking face? I’ll show you how dried up I am—fuck!“ He lurched back as he felt a sharp sting on his arm.

She appeared at the side of Ben’s vision, Her fingers still smoking as she pointed at Butcher. “You. Never, ever make me visualize that again.” She scrunched her face in dramatic disgust. “And you.” She turned the finger to Ben. “He did ‘say it to your face’, stop being such a fucking baby. And both of you need to repeat everything you think in your head before you say it. We get it, your dicks are both huge, either suck each other off or put them away.”

“I second that,” Cocksucker mumbled, residual nausea on his face. “The shutting up thing, not the other part.”

“Thank you, Hughie. Now.” She gave Butcher a titled-head frown. “What’s the mission.”

“Don’t have to be a mission, Love, we could just be checking up on our two favorite-“

“Shut up,” She snapped. “Nobody has come to visit in two and a half weeks. And then, just after the news about Sister Sage, you two are suddenly, and I’m sure completely coincidentally, in our living room. So, what’s the mission?”

“How do you know about Sage?” Cocksucker, matching the surprise on Butcher’s face, asked.

“I have a phone, dummy.”

Ben looked around the room, trying to figure out where She could’ve possibly hidden a phone from him. “No, we fucking don’t.” He narrowed his eyes at Her, suspicion building in his chest as anger clouded his head. “Have you been fucking leaving without me?”

“When would I even have the time to leave without you?” She snapped.

“When you go to the fucking bathroom all the damn time for no fucking reason. If you’ve been lying to me-“

“Jesus Christ, I was on my period the past week. You can come do an inspection of the toilet bowl next time if it’s that important to you.”

“Fucking,” Butcher faked coughed to poorly cover his words. Ben was sure a deaf baby would’ve still have understood them, and She certainly did.

“Can it,” She shot at Butcher before turning back to Ben. “Phones aren’t big blocks on walls anymore, grampa, they look like this.” She pulled out a weird black rectangle and waved it in his face. “And you’ve definitely seen one before, dumbass.”

If Ben thought back, admittedly not even that hard, he had. Cocksucker and Butcher had both used them the first time around, he’d spotted them in the shows and movies he had been making their way through at Her direction, and even seen Her using the one invading his personal space at that very moment. However, he’d known he’d eat a fucking whale dick before he asked Her what they were then, in the exact same way he was now going have to pretend that She was the stupid one trying to pull one over on him.

“I think I remember if I’d seen something that fucking dumb looking, Sunshine.” She just glared at him and turned away, so Ben decided to count that as a him victory.

“If one of you doesn’t tell me what the plan is now-“

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Love, we’re getting there. Hughie?”

“Gross,” Cocksucker muttered, his scrunched face of disgust turning into shock as Butcher pushed him forward. “What! Why me?”

“You use all those posh fancy words, mate.”

“He hates me!” Cocksucker gestured to Ben, before saying Her name in a pathetically begging tone. “He made you do it last time, right?! Tell Butcher he doesn’t fucking listen to me!”

Ben grinned as She gave Cocksucker one of the most half-assed apologetic looks Ben had ever seen. “I mean, he doesn’t. But I wouldn’t call him Butcher’s biggest fan either.”

“I’m right fucking here,” Ben grumbled. “I can speak for my damn fucking self.”

She gave him a sarcastic, simpering smile. “Ben, do you like Hughie, or Butcher? Is one prettier? Would one of them talking be better than the other?”

“No, they’re both ugly, pussy ass idiots who sound just as fucking boring as their pussy ass counterpart.”

“Who’s acting like who’s not here now?”

“We don’t sound the same at all…”

She ignored Butcher’s snark and Cocksucker’s weak protest. “Lovely. So if someone could answer my fucking question, that would be great. I, personally, couldn’t give a flying fuck who.”

Cocksucker sighed. “What did you read about the Sister Sage situation?”

“Is someone going to tell me who ‘Sister Sage’ is?” Ben grunted, giving Her an expectant look. Right now his best guess was some nun with plant-based powers, and he couldn’t think of a damn way that would be helpful.

“She's a supe whose power is intelligence. She’s the smartest person in the world, and a member of Homelander’s team.” She wrinkled her nose. “Well, she was. She got fired. I saw Vought’s press release about ‘creative differences’, but it’s painfully obvious bullshit. She made one appearance on TV where she spoke five words, most of the time she’d just hovering behind Homelander looking mad.”

“Yeah, we think she made Homelander upset somehow, which isn't hard to do, so he cut her loose.” Cocksucker nodded. “Either way, we want to try and talk to her. Flip her. Or-“

“Uncle Sam here is going to neutralize her.” Butcher spoke over Cocksucker with a smirk at Ben.

“Neutralize?” She looked between them with wide eyes. “Neutralize as in kill, or neutralize as in remove her powers?”

Butcher winked. “We’ll see where the night takes us. You two have fifteen to get ready, chop chop.”

She began to make her way up the stairs, but Ben remained firmly where he stood, glaring his best daggers at Butcher. “You better have brought my fucking shield this time.”

“What, you going to start crying if we didn’t?” Butcher jeered, and before Ben could move to punch him in the face, Cocksucker piped up from the side.

“Annie and MM are getting it now, they’ll meet us there.”

Butcher grunted in annoyance at Cocksucker’s affirming words, but Ben ignored it and turned to examine Cocksucker’s increasingly pallid face. His heartbeat was rising, yes, but it didn’t seem to be because he was lying, more likely the pussyfuck was just afraid. “Good,” Ben grunted, pausing to listen for a relieved stutter in Cocksucker’s chest. At the sound, Ben turned and marched up the stairs.

He wasn’t sure how it had happened, because he certainly hadn’t done it, but Ben’s suit had been cleaned of the dust and dirt from its last use. It was folded semi-neatly in his dresser, on top of underwear and socks. It was a quick change, he remembered being incredibly instant to the designer all those years ago that any needless, bullshit complications would lead to a forcerful reiterment and be fixed by their replacement, and made his way down the hall to Her door. He paused, unsure of if he should knock or simply walk in. He’d never knocked before, and She’d never bitched at him about it, but she’d also made it incredibly clear that, if he saw her naked, she’d “claw out his eyes like Jesus”. He’d asked for elaboration, in a way he thought had been quite fucking polite, and She’d left the room only to return a minute later with a copy of the Bible that was hurled at his head. Ben had not bothered to read it, but he quite liked his eyes, as did most women, so he had no interest in losing them to one impressively violent and crude one. However, knocking was also plain fucking stupid. As such he found himself just standing at the door, all the way until She opened the door and jumped back at the sight of him.

“Fuck, Ben, you scared me.” She’d placed a hand over her chest, fucking over dramatically if you asked Ben, and stared up at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he muttered. “I was just waiting for you.” And he fucking had been. Originally, the plan that had brought him here was to make fun of Her for clearly cleaning his suit and certainly going through his underwear drawer, now it just felt fucking stupid. She’d just caught him standing outside her room, she had too much ammunition to use against him now.

She tilted her head at him, giving Ben a look he didn’t understand or like, but just nodded. “Well, I’m ready. We should go.”

He nodded, stepping aside for her to pass him. She blinked at him a moment before doing such, and only after she was starting down the stairs did it occur to him that he’d let her go first. She hadn’t even asked. But she would’ve, he reasoned. He’d just been saving the headache of Her whining about it. Really, it had been a calculated move from his subconscious, which hated her finding every nerve of Ben’s to get on just as much as the rest of him.

Butcher and Cocksucker were right where they’d left them when Ben reached the bottom of the stairs, and She made her way to Ben’s side as they exited the safe house. Her body was less rigid and alert than last time, her heart almost perfectly calm, and though her eyes didn’t once leave him, she wasn’t vigilantly scanning his every twitch as they walked to the car. Even this car ride was more relaxed than the last, with Butcher not checking on them every damn second in the mirror, Cocksucker looking less like he was about to shit his damn pants, and Her body comfortably in the seat and not curled into the door. Ben appreciated that it was a real, windowed car this time, because that stupid fucking van had been deafening and fucking stuffy and boring to sit in. This satisfaction was squashed almost immediately when they pulled up to a warehouse that looked one fucking well-placed shit from collapsing, and Ben saw that same stupid fucking van parked beside where they stopped.

The back doors were open, and Ben could hear four moderately steady heartbeats from inside it. As they unloaded out of the car and made their way to join the others, Ben watched Her out of the corner of his eye, hearing the telltale warning sign of gnawing on lips and tapping of fingers in rhythmic movements. He’d noticed last week, then had his suspicion confirmed during their fight a few nights ago, that all her rapid, tense tapping was still controlled, always following the same pattern. For the fucking life of him, Ben couldn’t figure out what the pattern was, but he knew it existed, and it always went hand in hand with glassy eyes. Sure enough, when he turned to fully look at Her, clouds were forming behind her gaze, which had itself gone slightly slack. But before Ben could grab Her, ask her what the fucking problem was, if it was something he needed to worry about, She’d walked past him to sit beside beside the small, Asian woman he’d seen several times before. The woman smiled at Her, and she returned it without hesitation. She said a name, Kimiko, in a soft, kind voice Ben had never heard and though Kimiko didn’t say anything—thinking about it Ben hadn’t heard her speak once—the tapping slowed to a halt as they began a weird half-conversation with a lot of confusing fucking gestures.

Ben glanced around the van, looking for his fucking shield. When he didn’t see it, he turned to glare at Butcher, who’d moved to talk to MM.

“Hey!” Ben pushed himself into their conversation, ignoring their whiny glares. “You promised my fucking shield.”

Butcher rolled his eyes. “Technically, Hughie promised it.”

“Where is it.”

“Calm the fuck down, Gov, I’m sure it’s here somewhere. MM, would you give the giant cunt his stupid shield?”

“Nope.”

Ben’s head whipped to glare at the man, who wasn’t even fucking acknowledging him. “Give me my fucking shield.”

“Can’t,” MM said, meeting Ben’s glare with an angry, cold one of his own. “Didn’t fucking bring it.”

“I was promised I’d get my shield back. If you pussies can’t get it, I’m certain I could fine someone who will.” Ben threatened, the drums starting to sound once more. “I don’t have to put up with bullshit-“

“Yeah, you do,” Her voice called from behind him.

Ben turned to look at her, and saw Butcher and MM do the same.

“This doesn’t concern you, Sunshine.” Ben snapped.

She just shrugged. “You want a private conversation? Lower your fucking voice. And I feel like any conversation where you start saying you’re going to leave does concern me, because I’m the one that’s going to have to smite your face when you try. And that’s just going to be a fucking bummer.”

“My face too nice to burn?” He taunted, barely noticing the fade of the pounding against his chest.

“No, I just would have to fill out a fuck ton of dogshit CIA paperwork after. So just suck up being away from your blankie for another week, and sit the hell down.”

“I don’t have a fucking blankie,” Ben scowled at Her, but she only smiled back at him and returned her attention to Kimiko.

“You heard her,” Butcher sneered from behind him. “Listen to your mommy and sit the fuck down.”

“Don’t make it weird, Butcher.” She called, not looking back at them for a second.

Ben turned to give Butcher one last, venomous glower. “If I don’t get my fucking shield next time, we’re going to have a fucking problem.”

“We’ll get you your shield, Gov, don’t loose your damn mind.”

Ben grunted, turning to take the seat next to Her, but carefully listened to Butcher and MM’s hushed whispers as he moved.

“Bloody hell, MM, you had one fucking job.”

“I am not helping him, Butcher. Don’t send me to do your damn dirty work.”

Butcher scoffed. “I’ve had you do much dirtier work, mate. This was a fucking cake walk, and you still fucked it up.”

“I’m going to tell you one last time, and it better get through your thick, dumbass head. I am not doing anything, fucking anything, for that racist piece of shit.”

Ben opened his mouth, subtle eavesdropping was a fucking overrated pussy move anyways, to defend himself. Collateral damage fucking happened, it wasn’t his fucking fault Vought was always sending him-

“What’s the big deal with the shield?” He heard Starlight mutter behind him, a question clearly addressed to Cocksucker.

“Dunno, but he was really weird about it last time, almost threw me out a window cause I touched it-“

“I can fucking hear you,” Ben twisted roughly to face them. “What is it with you pussies and pretending I’m fucking deaf?”

Starlight sighed, giving him an annoyed glare, as Cocksucker responded weakly.

“We just, we don’t think you want to talk to us-“

“Shut the fuck up,” Ben grunted.

“Don’t talk to him like that!” Starlight’s eyes started to glow, and Ben rolled his own in response.

“Fucking try it, Bitch, I’ll blow you back to Vought. If you have a question, fucking ask it.”

“Fine,” Starlight held Ben’s anger with her own. “What’s the big deal with your shield? Are you compensating? Do you get performance issues without it?”

“Annie,” Cocksucker’s heart had picked up, and he was grabbing Starlight’s arm tightly. “Don’t make him mad.”

A thousand, perfect insults pushed against Ben’s head. Fucking amazing hits that would have Starlight crying to Cocksucker for weeks. But he could hear Her heartbeat behind him, stuttering for only a second as she listened to the argument. He heard that rhythmic tapping again, and so he pushed the words down, and gave Starlight a taunting sneer.

“Listen to your little cocksucker.” Ben taunted. “I’ll let it fucking go this time, because I’m feeling fucking generous. But next time? I kill both of you pussies.”

Ben turned away, and once his back was fully to them, he pulled out the crumpled list that now always sat in his pocket, trying to figure out if She had added “broad” at any point. While the bottom was filled with Ben’s own scratchy, hastily written additions, the top to middle of the paper was written in her neat, clipped handwriting, and close to the top was the sentence loose broad with the doll face - Buttercup from the Princess Bride??? Ben frowned at it—why couldn’t She have underlined the word—and leaned to the side, nudging Her shoulder with his own. When she didn’t turn from her soft conversation with Kimiko—how She could possibly be so invested in a conversation with a woman Ben was pretty fucking sure was mute was beyond him—Ben shoved it under her face.

Her voice died off, hands pausing mid-air, and she slowly turned to stare at him. “What are you doing.”

He pointed roughly to the sentence. “What does that mean?”

She squinted, grabbing it from him to hold closer to her eyes. “I was probably confused why you’d call Buttercup that. She’s famously not loose for like, the whole story-“

“No,” he tugged it back. “Why did you write that sentence down? What’s so bad about ‘loose broad with the doll face’?”

Her lips quirked up. “That’s what’s so urgent?”

“Is it loose, or broad?” He ignored her amusement.

“I think both together. Loose isn’t great, but I’d be lying if I said I never called my mother loose. Broad is just…” She frowned. “I don’t think I’ve heard the word ‘broad’ out the mouth from anyone who doesn’t have an active memory of at least one world war.”

“So broad is fine?”

“If you want to sound a thousand, sure. I’ve definitely heard you say worse.”

Ignoring the age jab, Ben locked and loaded his next insult for Starlight. He would let the “compensating” comment go, he was forgiving like that, but there was no fucking way she wouldn’t say something else soon. And he’d be fucking ready for it. He shoved the list back into his pants, where it had stayed since he first caught Her using it. At first it had been going to take a one way ticket down the toilet, but then he’d noticed how when he used those words on the paper, She’d frown and not talk to him for a damn hour. It was a fucking annoying, inconvenient, bitch move because during that time she wouldn’t laugh at his jokes or tell him how stupid modern technology in movies worked or bombard him with annoying comments that made him want to grab Her pretty, taunting, insufferable face and teach her some manners. She’d just be quiet and mad, and it was like he was alone, and suddenly he would hear the drum. So he’d kept the list and, whenever he noticed the bitter silence showing its ugly head, he’d write down what coxed it out. Eventually She’d noticed, and started to help him. If it hadn’t proved an effective strategy to keep her off his ass about stupid fucking shit, he’d have lied up, down, and sideways about keeping it. But they hadn’t had any of those moments he’d grown to detest since she had, so he’d kept in his bitterness about the stupidity of the whole thing in check and counted this a win.

“Look alive, fuckers.” Ben looked up as MM stood, one of those alleged “phones” in hand. “Sage will be here in five minutes. She’s agreed to meet me, Starlight, and Hughie. Frenchie and Kimiko, I want y’all outside, nearby, and ready in case she’s pulling one over. Butcher, go home.”

“Nah, mate. I’m a part of this, Mallory said so. Could make me go home if you tickled my balls and topped me off.”

“Well, then you’re going to have to stay in here.” MM turned as he said Her name. “You’re staying in here with Soldier Boy. If we need you, you’ll hear the signal.”

She hummed in acknowledgment. “What’s the signal?”

“The Deep’s massive tits.” MM gave a tired exhale as Her mouth fell open in amusement. “Frenchie made the signal. Make sure they,” both Ben and Butcher receive rough jabs in their direction. “Don’t fuck this up.”

Before either Ben or Butcher, whose mouth and protesting words had somehow begun faster than Ben’s own, could argue, MM was following the rest of the already mobilized team out of the van, and the doors were slammed behind him.

Tense, angry silence was in the air for only a minute before Butcher spoke.

“Now that everyone’s gone, will you two admit you’re fucking?”

Her heartbeat picked up slightly, and Ben leered at Butcher.

“Watch it, Dick Van Dyke, I’ll cut your fucking face off.” From beside him, Ben heard Her snort. “What do you find so funny?”

Ignoring his angry look, She gave another small giggle. “I don’t think that insult is as good as you think, Ben.”

“It was a fucking amazing insult-“

“Dick Van Dyke is American.”

“No, he was in all those stupid fucking British movies, like that one about the magic fucking nanny-“

“You’ve watched Mary Poppins?” Butcher laughed, and Ben considered ripping off his lips and feeding them to him. One bitchy, melodramatic woman who constantly cut off his words was more than enough. He didn’t need another fucking asshole, whose comments were not nearly as unwelcomingly entertaining, doing the same.

“Only because your hound dog bitch threatened to burn off my fucking dick if I didn’t.” Ben grumbled, and She gave another laugh.

“You enjoyed it, you cunt. And you told me a story about how you met Dick Van Dyke in the 60s. When he was, as he is now, incredibly American.”

“Sunshine, are you going to let me defend your honor or not?”

“My honor?” She gave him a face of giddy disbelief. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“He said we’re fucking!” Ben waved wildly at Butcher. “I’m not going to let him talk about a lady like that-“

“You literally goaded him on barely an hour ago. And called me a ‘hound dog bitch’ like, five seconds ago.” She pointed out. “Even if that wasn’t true, you’d have a whole lot of misplaced faith that I have ‘honor’ to begin with.”

“I don’t think you’d know honor if it ate you out ass to cunt.” Butcher made an exaggerated face of thought, and was met with only a flat look.

“So taint? Ass to cunt as in taint?” Her voice was bored, arms crossed in front of her chest.

Butcher shrugged. “No lady with honor knows the word taint.”

“Then we’re lucky I lost the title of ‘lady’ years ago,” She said with a toothy, fake smile. “And you,” a glare was shot at Ben. “Are not helping the ‘we’re fucking’ allegations by defending my honor, dumbass.”

He wasn’t, he knew that. But her heartbeat had settled, no longer clawing into Ben’s brain, so he just grunted. “Fuck me for trying to help.”

“I won’t,” she smirked. “That’s the whole point.”

“Bitch.”

“Cunt. Butcher,” She turned away from Ben once more. “What time did MM say Sage would arrive?”

“He didn’t.” Butcher answered, making an angry face at the closed door. “Something about not trusting us to stay here.”

Just then, Ben’s careful ear on Her heartbeat, which had slowed fully in the past minutes, was distracted by steps, followed by voices.

“I’m glad you agreed to meet us.” A man’s voice, too low to be Cocksucker, had to be MM.

“Well, even though I know what you’re going to say, I’m still intrigued by how you plan to say it.” Ben didn’t recognize that one. It sounded calm and controlled like Hers usually was, but only had the edge of anger. Her voice was always lined with vague amusement, at everything all the time. This woman didn’t sound like it was capable of laughter, even mockingly.

“Well, if you know what we’re going to say, can you just tell us your answer now?” That one was self-righteous and insufferable. Starlight.

“No.”

“Is that… your answer to what we’re going to say or whether or not you’ll tell us now?” Unsure, nervous, pathetic. Cocksucker.

“The later. I’m not going to tell you the answer until everyone joins us. Do you think I’m fucking-“

“Ben?” A pair of fingers snapped in his face.

Eyes refocusing, Ben realized She had moved so he was face-to-face with her concerned glare and frown watching him carefully.

“If that cunt fucking blows his bloody lid, I’m going outside, MM can suck my-“

Ben scowled at Butcher over Her shoulder. “I’m not going to fucking explode. I have a fucking handle on it-“ She gave Ben an incredulous look that he ignored. “And I’m trying to listen, so shut the fuck up so I can listen to what those pussies out there are saying.”

“You can hear them?” She dropped back to her seat, leaning forward with an intent stare. “What are they talking about?”

“I could tell you if you would shut the fuck up.” He grunted, and she rolled her eyes but didn’t move back. Ben paused, no longer hearing voices at all. “They moved.”

Butcher pushed off the wall. “What do you mean they moved? The fuck did they go?”

“I can’t tell you if you don’t shut-“

The door of the van was pulled open, and Ben jumped to his feet, hearing Her heartbeat start to rise as she did the same. But, instead of the blood and chaos Ben expected, was ready for, a short woman with a gleam in her dark eyes stood on the other side.

“Butcher, you look just as shitty as I expected. Should’ve listened to MM about staying behind.” Her voice was the cold, methodical one. Ben hated it, and hated how it matched her smug, stone-like face.

“If you’re as smart as you claim to be, Sister, you should know I do what I bloody want.” Butcher gave the woman a hateful, mocking smile.

She just gave a small nod back. “Well, I am ‘as smart as I claim to be’, and you are ‘doing what you want’. Reliable as always, William.” Her gaze turned to Ben. “I can’t say I’m surprised to see you, Soldier Boy. I knew they would be going for some sort of Hail Mary, and even though I was hoping for something more intelligent, maybe flipping Neuman, this will work fine. And you…” Her voice trailed, and a disarming smile grew across her face. “I don’t know you. I know everybody.”

Behind Ben, Her heartbeat was like thunder. “Glad to be an exception to such a weird and creepy rule.”

“Who are you? No, wait.” Sage titled her head. “I want to guess.”

The tapping had begun, and the drums had started their march from Ben’s chest to his head.

“You’re not Butcher’s friend, he doesn’t have any. You’re not CIA… not Vought. Not with Nueman, she wouldn’t be that stupid. I’ve seen pictures of all the supervillains Homelander tried to make, and-“ A first, true smile split across Sage’s face just as Her heartbeat became deafening. “Oh! Interesting. That hit a nerve, but how?”

Ben stepped forward, fists clenched, as Sage’s eyes scanned Her closely. “I don’t know what kind of big shot you think you are, but I’d shut the fuck up now before I make your mouth fill up with blood.”

“I’m good,” she gave Ben a sideways look. “Although that’s also interesting. Now, you aren’t military, or a terrorist. You don’t seem quite as idiotically rage-blind as the others, you might even be intelligent. Or, well, intelligent by human standards.”

“You going to keep shooting in the dark, and waste all our time?” Her voice had moved closer, and Ben knew he’d only have to turn his head slightly to see that glassy-eyed stare focused on Sage, who only hummed.

“I’ll get it, don’t worry about that. My shot in the dark has floodlights compared to yours. But time is a finite resource, especially now. You just have to come on out to join the party, and we’ll get started.”

Ben twisted to find Her exchanging doubtful looks with Butcher, who spoke first.

“How do we know you ain’t just killed them, and are luring us out to finish the job?”

“Because that’s fucking stupid.” Sage said with an annoyed frown. “And I’m frankly a little insulted you think I'd do something that plainly dumb. You would’ve heard it. In fact, Soldier Boy can probably hear them, alive, right now. I just told them to stay there and be quiet or I’d start screaming about Starlight trying to kidnap and traffic me. People would hear me, we’re at a warehouse in Queens, not fucking Montana.”

Ben gave an eye roll as all eyes turned to him. “Why do I have to fucking check? There’s a goddamn window right there. Just fucking look outside. Or those pussies can just grow some fucking balls and tell us they’re alive.”

“Ben,” Her voice was tired, and he could still hear the pressure of her heart against her ribs. “You can hear them anyway. Just fucking tell us, please.”

“Fine,” he grunted. He could hear them anyway, so he gave a tight nod after making a whole stupid fucking show of listening for signs of life, but fuck him if this was going to become a regular thing. Ben was not, threat of dick-burning be damned, going to be reduced to recon.

But Her stopped trying to claw out of her when he confirmed Sage’s words, and Ben felt an odd, satisfying rush through him when he heard it.

“Can we move?” Sage stepped aside with an exaggerated sweep of her arm.

Butcher left first, and before Ben could follow, a hand grabbed his arm. He turned back to see barely-contained panic on across Her face—panic he could feel with the tightening of her grip.

“Sage can’t know,” She whispered to him. “Don’t tell her.”

“About what?” Ben frowned, trying to ignore where she still held his arm. Firmly. Unflinchingly.

She didn’t even pull back as she spoke. “Me. If she knows about me, she’ll tell Homelander. He’ll know I’m in New York. He’ll know I’m working with Butcher. He’ll find me and bring me back. Don’t tell her.”

Disturbingly, it wasn’t only the angered acceleration of her heart eating at Ben. It was realizing that her face wasn’t full of panic. It was fear—real fear—in her eyes. He’d never seen her just afraid. He’d seen her infuriated and nervous and exhausted but never simply, rawly afraid. He didn’t like it. She hadn’t become that hollow shell he’d seen at the beginning, or that unbearably tragic picture, looking far away as she told him about Homelander. She was just as unbendable as he knew her, but paralyzed. Made of only pure, useless fucking fear.

So he meant every fucking word he spoke. “I won’t. We’re not going back there.”

“We?” She didn’t let go, her face unreadable.

“I’m not going back in the fucking box, you’re not going back to that pussy Homelander. I’m going to kill them, and you’re going to let me leave. That was the fucking deal.”

She nodded, glancing down at her hands on his arm, and her hold on him loosened. “That was the deal.” She echoed, and walked past him without another word.

They stepped out onto the street and began to follow Sage into the warehouse, Butcher’s Pussysquad walking ahead of them. The moment Ben was at the door, MM turned, raising a flat palm to halt him. “No, you stay right fucking there. You are not a part of this.”

“I’m not listening if he’s not.” Sage said smoothly, looking Ben up and down.

“Great, you two can bond over hating convenient conversation.” She muttered from next to Ben, glaring a hole in the floor.

“Fuck off, Sunshine. I’m charming and endearing, not a bragging, self-assured bitch.” He muttered back as the argument about where he should stand stretched on for far too fucking long.

“You are the most braggadocios, self-assured bitch I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing.”

“I’m not the bitch that just used ‘braggadocios’ in a sentence like an asshole pussy.”

“At least I know the word at all. I think you came out of the womb knowing only pussy, bitch, and fuck and decided that was more than enough.”

“You sound like a fucking bitch right now.”

“You sound like a cunt who wants to fuck his mirror all the time.”

Ben looked back down to see a thin-lipped, but painless, smile creeping across her face. “One day you should ask my mirror how it is. I’ll receive a fucking amazing endorsement, and you’ll beg me to give you a fucking chance.”

“Endorsement’s a pretty big word, pretty boy. Are you sure you don’t need to sit down now?”

He did a double-take. “Did you just fucking call me pretty-“

“Oi, either fuck right now or come and do your fucking jobs.” Butcher yelled from inside, the argument apparently over with a victory for Sage.

“Please don’t fuck right now,” Cocksucker mumbled, and She rolled her eyes, leaving Ben’s side to stand amongst the group.

“I think I’ll manage to keep it together.” Sarcasm dripped from her tone and was painted across her face, but she didn’t flinch away as Ben came up behind her.

Sage was eyeing Her still, and Ben liked the woman less by the second. Even as Starlight spoke, Sage’s attention didn’t move, remaining locked on Her as if trying to pick her apart.

“We know how Homelander screwed you, Sage. He’s screwed all of us.”

“Screwed feels like a bloody generous term for ass-fucking to completion and then cutting off our balls.” Butcher muttered.

“Butcher,” Cocksucker sighed. “Unnecessarily gross.”

“I don’t know,” the French Prick, having apparently re-joined the group when Ben hadn’t been paying attention, mused. “The visualization helps.”

Cocksucker gaped at him. “How?”

“Well, either way-“

“It raises the stakes, no?” The French Prick cut off Starlight, a look of impossibly genuine concentration on his face. “Screwing is gentle, possibly playful. Monsieur Butcher's words make the issue far more…” As he searched for the words, Kimiko made another weird fucking gesture, and a smile spread across the French Prick’s face. “Oui, Mon Coeur. Fucking urgent. Far more fucking urgent.”

“Great, more urgent.” Starlight blinked, clearly giving a pathetic attempt to regain control. It was glorious for Ben to watch. “Now, we think-“

“It was still gross, things can be urgent and not gross.” Cocksucker frowned at the French Prick.

“Hughie,” Starlight hissed.

“Shit, sorry Annie-“

“No, petite Hughie, the gross nature of the words is what makes them so urgent.” The French Prick argued. “It makes them more difficult to ignore.”

MM gave an attempt to push back that didn’t involve nearly enough shouting or threats for Ben’s taste. “The words don’t matter, now just listen to Annie-“

“Words fucking matter, Mate." Butcher interjected. Ben agreed, if they didn’t then the whole stupid fucking list would have been for nothing.

“Not right now, Butcher, right now all that matters is we listen to Annie-“

“Well, Butcher’s technically right. Words do really fucking matter.” She chimed in from Ben’s side. “Language is a pillar of culture, and different words will have the same translations but different meanings across cultures.”

MM gave Her a disbelieving stare. “You too?”

“What words have different meanings across cultures?” Cocksucker asked, sounding somehow genuinely interested.

“More often than not, it’s symbolic changes, such as colors and animals having different connotations or there being a wide variety of words for one language that only has a few.”

“This can’t wait?” Starlight asked, throwing MM a hopeless look. Ben hoped it couldn’t. As utterly boring as the words coming out of Her mouth were, he’d never seen her so enthusiastic about something that wasn’t a piece of media to be explained. Her heartbeat was rising, yes, but it was beating like a drug, not a gun, against Ben’s head. This, this was tolerable, and if Starlight fucking stopped it he might have to kill her.

It was MM though, who said Her name firmly. As she trailed off, he looked at her with raised eyebrows and a frown. “You done?”

Ben could hear the chew of Her lip, and she nodded apologetically, shooting a nervous look to where Sage was watching Her with narrow eyes. If Ben was smart about it, he was pretty sure he could kill Sage, MM, and Starlight in one move. Unfortunately, that would probably make Her all bitchy and angry at him, which was exactly what he was trying to avoid. Maybe he could make it look like an accident.

“Great,” Starlight sighed. “Sage, Homelander has fucked all of us.” Butcher gave an approving grin as Starlight threw him a dirty look. “He needs to be stopped.”

“And what makes you think you can stop him? You’ve tried numerous times, and every attempt has blown up in your face more spectacularly than the last.”

“We have a plan.” Starlight said, standing up straighter.

“Then you don’t need me.”

“That’s what I fucking said.” Butcher grumbled.

“But they didn’t listen to you, which means whatever you’re trying isn’t a revenge-blind, foolish Butcher special.”

“Love, if you’re implying I’m a fucking idiot-“

“Wasn’t implying. Outright said it.”

“We can still bloody kill you-“

“Butcher,” MM said with a glare. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Well, I ain’t bloody wrong. Her power is ‘smart’, she’s not a fucking threat. We got the real threat on our side.” Butcher gave Her a wide, smug grin.

Right at Ben’s side, She froze.

“The ‘real threat’?” Sage asked, and turned slowly to examine Her once more.

“Soldier Boy,” MM said, looking between Her and Sage. “You know what he can do. We didn’t bring him back for nothing.”

“No, but you did bring him back… Why?” Sage wondered aloud, and Ben could hear the insufferable gears of her bitch brain turning. “Because you had the real threat. Not him, something worse.” Sage’s mouth turned up just the gleam in her eyes returned. “The Anomaly.”

“I- what are you- I don’t know what-“ Ben didn’t need to see Her eyes to know that the fear had returned. It was in every word She spoke, and he wanted to rip it out of her and shove it into Sage. “You don’t- I don’t-“

“He told me you died. Horrible accident, fourth shot of V didn’t take, and you combusted. I knew he was lying, I just thought he’d decided he wanted more secrecy and moved you, killed you himself, or you’d escaped and were on the other side of the world. Very, very stupid of you to come back.”

“If you know what happened to her, you should know what a fucking monster Homelander is.” Starlight said. “You should listen to what we have to say.”

“Not interested anymore.” Sage gave a dismissive gesture, another fucking smile creeping onto her features. “The Anomaly, alive and working with Starlight and Butcher? Working with Soldier Boy? This is good, this changes things.”

Ben braced his arms at his side, his anger feeding into the beat against his chest, moving forward as She took a weak, stumbled step further behind him. “You listen, or lose your fucking life.”

“I think I’ll just go. I had a much more dramatic reveal, but you have been set up, and this building is surrounded.” Sage sighed. “I would say I wish I could’ve played into the theatrics you all love a little more, but I’m actually incredibly fucking relieved I don’t have to. I’ll see everybody soon, and good luck with whatever you’re planning. I’m sure it will be entertaining.”

Before Ben could give in to the drums, or even more to grab her, the warehouse was flooded with men in black suits.

“Fuck,” Butcher shouted, pulling out a gun from thin fucking air. “What’s the point of having a super-hearing supe if you can’t fucking hear a warehouse full of enemies?”

“Sound-suppressing suits,” the French Prick yelled, taking a step behind Kimiko as he too pulled a weapon from nowhere. “I was developing them with the CIA, Vought must have gotten their fucking hands on them.”

MM pulled out his own gun, and Ben was now pretty fucking sure they were all keeping them up their asses. “Does Mallory know about them?”

“Oui, but they must have just gotten their hands on them, I finished them only two days ago.”

“When we made the fucking plan to meet with Sage,” Cocksucker had, like the cowardly pussy Ben knew him to be, moved behind Starlight. “But she can’t have known we had Soldier Boy, why would she spend time to get them?”

“Sage is nothing if not careful,” MM fired up at the descending men. “We need to get out of here, right fucking now.”

The words had hardly left MM’s mouth when the warehouse lit up with bullets.

“Are you just going to let Sage fucking get away?” Ben yelled, remaining firmly planted where he was, bullets bouncing off him like rain.

“Excuse us, Gov, not all of us are bloody immortal. And we quite like living, so shut the fuck up and be useful.” Butcher ran past Ben, firing back as he did.

Ben scowled at nothing, punching one of the men backwards like a bowling ball when he got too close. “She’s going back to Homelander, that feels pretty fucking important-“

“The doors are fucking blocked!” Cocksucker’s shrill, pussy yell cut Ben off. “They’re everywhere!”

“Then move them, you fucking pussy!” Ben threw another up into the ceiling.

He felt fucking alive. All around him, Butcher’s team was being the most useful they’d ever need in their pathetic pussy lives. The French Prick was holding something weird and long that Ben would very much like to use later, Butcher and MM were firing with an intent to kill that Ben appreciated, Kimiko ripped off a man's head with ease, and Ben was starting to hate her a little less than the rest of them. Even Starlight and Cocksucker were vaguely helpful, even if Starlight was mostly invested in keeping Cocksucker and his weak punches safe. It was fucking perfect, right until  Ben threw another man into the wall, leaving a dent in the concrete, and saw Her.

She was right where they’d left her, smoking but not yet burning, men trying to grab her but falling back with screams as they did. Her bloodless, frozen face was trained on where Sage had stood, and despite the chorus of gunshots and shouting through the warehouse, her heartbeat was as loud as if Ben were right next to her. The tapping was fast—faster than he’d ever heard it, her eyes were unblinking and glazed, and blood was dripping from her lips as she chewed through skin.

She was going to fucking blow.

Another man, in almost slow motion, grabbed Her. But not on the arms or shoulder like the others had attempted. Right on the fucking neck. Ben watched as the idiot's hand landed on Her throat, watched her eyes widen and clear, and watched the man let out an undignified, pussy-like shriek as he recoiled back. But it was too fucking late. The smoke stopped, for only a second, and Ben could’ve sworn the ground fucking shook.

Everything went up into flames.

“Fuck!” Ben heard MM roar from somewhere behind him. “Everyone out! Get the fuck out!”

Ben sent another man flying back, directly into the fire, as he kept his eyes on Her. Still frozen, eyes no longer clouded, looking almost fucking oblivious to the flames around her. She didn’t seem to be burning anymore, only standing in the fire that had burst from her. Her eyes were full of that fear again, shooting upwards as the first piece of the roof fell down with a crash.

“The doors! Open the fucking doors!”

Ben turned to find Butcher shouting as Kimiko and MM struggled with the warehouse entrance. Ben glanced back at Her, but his line of sight was cut as another piece fell. Somehow, over all the noise, Ben heard Butcher once more.

“Soldier Boy, get your cunt ass over here and be fucking useful. Open the fucking doors!”

Ben grabbed one of the idiotic men who hadn’t either burned or tried to scramble away, throwing him directly to the warehouse door. The man shot right through the building, clearing a hole to the outside with a crunch. In the momentary shocked silence of the groups struggle, fire crackled, and another piece of the warehouse fell.

“Out!” Out of the corner of his eye, Ben saw MM practically push Cocksucker through the hole. “Now! Get out!”

Ben stared at the hole, Her heartbeat ripping into him. He could leave her. The building would fall, and he could fucking run in the time it took to pull her out. He could be fucking free, ahead of schedule, no killing Homelander and saving a stupid fucking world full of backstabbing pussies required. They’d find another way to kill Homelander, or not. It wouldn’t be his problem. Ben couldn’t even see her through the smoke and debris anymore. It would be so fucking easy to leave, kill Butcher, and escape.

But Her heartbeat wouldn’t fucking stop. It would keep going and going into his head. And the drum hated it, every time it sank into him, it fed the fucking drum.

He wasn’t moving. He needed to fucking move, or they’d realize his plan and try and knock him out. He wasn’t going back in the fucking box.

And She wasn’t going back to Homelander.

“Fuck!” He yelled at no one, partially hoping she’d just walk out, or someone would call him forward. But all the team had left them, and now the warehouse was just Ben, Her, and a bunch of ill-fated Vought shit-eaters.

Ben turned, throwing the wreckage as he did. It probably wasn’t helpful to the general state of the building the way he did so, but he wasn’t in the mood to be a fucking careful or gentle pussy. He reached Her, and found her passed out, face almost empty. If it weren’t for the sound of her breath, the still-quick flutter of her heart, Ben would’ve thought her dead.

“If you don’t become at least 10% less of a bitch after this Sunshine,” he grumbled at her unconscious body. “I’m throwing you right back in here.”

But he hauled Her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, ignoring the way she seared into his skin, and walked through his previous path to the exit.

———-

The ride back from the disastrous mission made Ben want to blow everyone’s fucking brains out of their heads. There were weird looks, hushed questions about what happened that he had to pretend he couldn’t hear, and a whole lot of self-righteous, sad faces. It was made worse by the fact that She didn’t even wake up until they were fully back in the safe house, meaning Ben had to fucking carry her inside. Butcher offered, but Ben had just glared at him—as far as Ben was concerned, the dick just wanted to take advantage of one of the only “safe” times to touch her—and refused to even respond.

Ben dumped Her in her room, and marched back downstairs to find Butcher still in the fucking living room.

“What the fuck do you want?” Ben grumbled, pushing past him to the kitchen.

“Well, I would usually tell your girlfriend, but seeing as she's taking a bloody little nap you’ll have to do.”

“She’d cut off your dick if she heard that,” Ben snorted. “Take it from my personal experience.”

“Good thing she can’t. Just tell her we’ll be back in a few days for operation Quick and Bald.”

"Operation Quick and Bald?" Ben huffed a sarcastic laugh. “I am not fucking saying those words.”

Butcher smirked. “Your head, Gov. See you in a few days.”

And Ben was left alone in the kitchen.

It took all the way to morning for Her to wake up. She stumbled into Ben’s room with a frown and a determined look.

“Teach me how to fight.”

Ben gave her a lazy half-grin from the bed. “Welcome back, Sunshine. Anything you’d like to say to me? A thank you, for instance. Though I would also accept acts of gratitude.”

“I’m not sucking your dick. Teach me how to fight.”

“I’m good. Not in my job description.”

She glared at him. "Technically, you don’t have a job. We’re not paying you. Teach me how to fight.”

“They’re not paying you either, Sunshine. We’re both victims.”

“I’m legally dead, they can’t pay me. And you’re the farthest thing from a victim, Mr. Body Count in the Thousands. Teach me how to fight.”

“No.” Ben had no interest in doing more for these fucking idiots. He’d already saved her life once in the past day, that should earn him enough fucking gratitude to coast for at least a damn month.

“Please, Ben, this can’t keep happening where I lose control, someone could really get hurt.” She rubbed her eyes in obvious distress. “People did get hurt.”

“So? Hurting people is what we do. You shouldn’t be in the field if you can’t fucking handle it.” Ben repeated the words he had so often told himself through the years. It had always fucking worked for him. She shouldn’t be any different.

“I can’t fucking handle it?!” She scoffed in disbelief. “That’s a mighty stupid thing for the pot to say to the kettle.”

Ben shot her a cold look. “I know how to fucking hold my own, Sunshine, I don’t need someone to fucking save me. You can’t fucking control yourself at all, and it’s a goddamn problem.”

“Nobody made you go back, you could’ve just fucking left me.” She hissed.

"Well, I didn’t,” Ben growled. “Don’t make me fucking regret it.”

“I could say the same for you. You’re only out of the box because I wanted you here-”

“Aw, Sunshine, you wanted me?” He mocked.

“I wanted your powers here. You’re just the vessel.”

“I saved your fucking life, bitch.”

“And I’m sure you’re not going to be a fucking cunt about that forever.”

“You need me.” He shot to his feet. “Don’t fucking forget it.”

She took a step forward, her face venomous. “No, you need me. What do you think happens if they decide I’m a ‘problem’ now, huh? They send me home, and just trust you not to go all revenge-fueled vigilante? If I burn, you burn, Ben. So fucking teach me how to not be a ‘problem’, or it’s your fucking head.”

He bared his teeth at Her. “If I teach you how to fight, will you stop being a fucking pussy and thank me for saving you?”

“Teach me how to fight, really fight and not just throw a punch, and I’ll buy you a fucking fleshlight.”

“What the fuck is a fleshlight?”

She gave him a mocking smirk. “Trust me, you’ll love them.”

Ben paused, examining Her face, angered but firm. “I want three of them.” He still wasn't sure what they were, but She had been frustratingly fucking accurate about what he would and wouldn't like.

“Deal.” She extended her hand, and he glared at it.

“If I hate them, you’re cooking me something.”

“You’d volunteer to be poisoned?” She laughed. “Your funeral, dumbass.”

He ignored her words, and shook her hand as aggressively as he could. “Meet me in the kitchen in three hours. I’m going to make you fucking cry.”

She grinned. “Looking forward to it.”

[shaunamilfman]

you must like me for me [3]

summary: You weren't sure what you did to piss off Shauna Shipman, but you've been on the receiving end of her death glares for just as long as you can remember. If looks could kill you'd certainly be six feet under, but hey–it's kind of hot, right? For better or worse, everything changes after a run-in at a party. part 1 | part 2

“Hey, are you still awake?” Shauna asks quietly, voice barely loud enough to be heard.

You groan as you bury your head further into the crook of her neck, half-exhausted and half-amused by the familiarity of the situation. “Not again, Shauna.”

Shauna laughs, the sound vibrating against your skin as she rubs a hand over your back. “Not that. Although…” 

You lift your head up to shoot her a playful glare, though the effect is softened somewhat by your tousled hair. It wasn’t your fault that Shauna just couldn’t keep her hands to herself, but you know from experience how ridiculous it made you look. “No.”

She meets your gaze with a mischievous smile and you feel a sudden rush of affection at the sight. Shauna wields that smile like a weapon, turning the most mundane moments into something that threatens to take your breath away. If she was consciously aware of how much it affected you, you weren’t sure, but Shauna’s oblivious enough that you feel safe to assume it isn’t intentional.

“Lame,” she teases, but there’s a warmth in her voice that washes all the tension from your body.

“What are you doing on Friday?”

You pause, a flicker of uncertainty passing through your eyes. This question felt dangerous, but you couldn’t help the surge of hope that went through you. “Depends on who’s asking.”

Shauna breathes out a laugh. “Jackie’s going to be visiting some family next weekend, so I figured we could…” She hesitates, leaving the question hanging in the air.

“Could?”

“Do something. Just you and me.”

“What? Like a date?”

“You think I’d ask you on a date?” There’s a strange edge to Shauna’s voice, one that prickles at your defenses in a way you don’t appreciate. You roll over to hide your face from view, feeling as if your disappointment was almost palpable. “Just wanted to see if you were up for a hookup.”

“Forget about it. I have plans anyway,” you mutter, staring particularly hard at a crack in her wall to avoid her piercing stare.

“No, you don’t.” Shauna sounds frustrated now, but for the life of you, you can’t figure out why. “I heard you and Nat talking about how you didn’t earlier.”

“What business is it of yours anyway, Shipman?” She flinches in surprise at the use of her last name, scooting out from under you to glare at you. You slip out of bed, pulling your clothes back on as the mood sours.

“It’s my business because you’ve apparently decided to punish me for hurting your feelings,” Shauna spits defensively, clearly caught off guard by the venom in your tone. “It’s not my fault you thought you were irresistible or something.”

“Is that what you think this is? God.” You scoff, incredulous. “Do you even know me?”

“Maybe I don’t. But it doesn’t take a genius to see that you’ve been hiding things from me.”

“Yeah, because you’ve been so good at letting people in.” There’s a bitter edge to your voice as you cross your arms defensively over your chest. You’ve never had a problem looking someone in the eye when you argue with them, but it takes a concentrated effort to meet her steely gaze.

“You knew what this was. It’s not my fault you have a crush on me or something.” 

“I don’t have a crush on you.” The words come out sharper than you intended, a defensive shield against her allegation that you’ve mistakenly turned into a weapon. You know it’s the wrong thing to say the second it leaves your mouth, but you’re too stubborn and hurt to take it back now. She’s dug this hole, and now you’re both just going to have to lie in it.

Shauna’s eyes narrow, turning away from you with a scoff as she stiffly tugs the sheets around her as she stands up. You stare up at her as she walks around the room picking up her clothes, gripping the sheet to her chest to hide herself from view. You roll your eyes. It’s a pointless exercise to hide what you’ve long since memorized: the slope of her shoulders, the curve of her waist, the delicate arch of her back. As if a sheet could erase the memory of mapping the contours of her body with your fingertips, the softness of her lips, or the way her body feels moving against yours. 

“This conversation is going nowhere fast. Just drop it.” You’re on the verge of pleading with her, but you know that it’s futile. When have you ever known Shauna Shipman to let something go? Shauna would press on the wound till it bled, reopening it with every threat and insult until she was satisfied. It was usually a quality you admire, but this is the first time you’ve ever found yourself resenting that.

“You let me lay on your jacket,” Shauna insists.

“Yeah, because apparently all you soccer girls kiss and tell. The last thing I needed was you going around and telling everyone I was a bad fuck because you got twigs in your hair.”

Shauna bristles at the remark, her lips pressing into a hard line. “Oh, trust me, I wasn’t telling anyone.” 

“Yeah, that’s probably because no one would believe you managed to get the stick out of your ass to do it.”

“Well, God forbid I care about things, huh? We can’t all be fucking losers like you.” Shauna’s words feel like a slap in the face, dredging up a mix of embarrassment and resentment that you struggle to contain. It’s difficult to even put into words why it stings, and had she asked you weren’t sure you could explain it. You knew deep down that she was only trying to deflect the situation. Her only goal was just to get one over on you. Still, the bitter weight of resentment makes it difficult to give her the benefit of the doubt just this once.

“A fucking loser, huh? Is that it? God, Shipman. Tell me how you really feel for once.”

“It’s true, isn’t it? Dress it up however you want to but at the end of the day–”

“Fuck you, Shauna,” you spit, your voice trembling as you fight to hold back tears. You rub your eyes reflexively, standing up with a huff as you collect your stuff. Shauna watches you with wide eyes, a look of disbelief that slowly turns into hurt. 

“You’re seriously leaving? It’s the middle of the night. Where are you even going to go?” 

“I’m not doing this anymore. Figure your shit out or leave me out of it.” You don’t stay to see her reaction, grabbing your bag off the floor and walking out the door. 

You hesitate at the bottom of the stairs with some inexplicable hope that she’ll chase after you down the stairs like one of those cheesy romance movies she always loves to make fun of. But the deafening silence envelops you, punctuated only by the slam of your car door.

You flung your bag into the passenger seat, the impact echoing in the car. Frustration boils in your chest as you pounded your hands on the wheel till exhaustion sets in. You rest your head on the steering wheel with a heavy sigh, ignoring the stinging of your palms until you get control of yourself. It might not have been the healthiest outlet, but the urge to cry has disappeared. You can practically feel the weight of Shauna’s eyes as she watches you through her bedroom window, and you weren’t about to give her the satisfaction of your tears.

Pulling your phone out of your bag, you thought for a moment about driving over to Nat’s trailer and crashing there. As much as you knew she’d let you, you knew that it wouldn’t do either of you any favors in the morning. You sigh as you unlock your phone, reluctantly scrolling to your five unanswered texts from Jackie Taylor 

You send her a quick text, not really expecting her to be awake. Storming out of Shauna’s house was all good and dramatic, but you weren’t exactly about to explain to your mom why you were coming home in the middle of the night. Which leaves you with sleeping in your car or–

“Hello?” You ask, answering your phone reflexively.

“Hey!” A cheerful voice answers. That level of excitement should be illegal at this time of night. “Yeah, come on over.”

… 

“I’m not going to bite, you know,” Jackie insists, pouting over at you as you lay ramrod straight on the absolute edge of the bed. You doubt that, after all, she is friends with Shauna, but you shuffle a little closer to appease her. You could feel the warmth radiating off her, a stark contrast to the relative chill of the room. She’d claimed the lion’s share of the blanket, leaving you to clutch at the end as you decide which limbs you were willing to sacrifice to the night air. She was doing you a favor, as much as it pains you to admit, so you let your snarky comment die in your throat.

Jackie’s clear ease in her room only seems to magnify your obvious unease, both due to the unfamiliar location and your earlier fight with Shauna. Being in someone else’s space, especially someone so closely associated with Shauna, only made you more unsettled. You longed for the simple comfort of your own room, the foreign decorations on the walls only serving to remind you that you don’t belong here. Add in how exposed you felt in nothing but your t-shirt and underwear and you’re left with an uncomfortable vulnerability.

Jackie had offered you some of her clothes to wear, but the thought of wearing her frilly pink pajamas made you cringe. You’ve already put up with one indignity too many tonight, and that might have sent you over the edge. The idea of wearing her clothes just felt a little too intimate a view into Jackie Taylor’s life, a bridge you’re hesitant to cross. As the cold seeped through the thin fabric of your t-shirt, you started to regret turning them down, if only for their warmth.

“So,” she says tentatively. “Your party got busted?” There’s a slight edge to the question that you can’t quite place, leaving you on edge as you respond.

“Yeah, the cops showed up and busted the place. Barely managed to get out.” It’s not your best lie, but you hadn’t planned on being questioned about it. Jackie always struck you as the type to take things at face value and you’re regretting not putting more thought into the excuse before you sent it.

“It’s just, there wasn’t a party tonight…” Jackie trails off, uncomfortable and a little embarrassed at having to call you out on such an obvious lie. 

“Like you know every party.” The words slip out without a conscious effort, a futile attempt at deflection. Even as the words leave your mouth, a sinking feeling settles over you. You pause, the thought striking you quickly. 

“You would know every party going on,” you concede with a sigh, rubbing at your eyes as you bury your face in your hands.

“Sorry,” she murmurs, her words carrying an unexpected weight.

You look over at her wryly, resigned to the situation. “Are you apologizing to me for calling me out on lying?”

“Well,” she shrugs, glancing away. “I just feel bad, I guess. Obviously, you were lying for a reason.” Her voice is soft, tinged with an empathy that makes you squirm as it stirs up a mix of guilt and fondness.

“Sorry. I just… Got in an argument with a friend about something. Didn’t want to explain to my mom why I was home earlier, you know?” That seems safe enough. It’s close enough to the truth that you don’t feel bad about continuing to be dishonest about it. You were convinced there was no better guilt trip in the world than Jackie Taylor.

“I’m sure Shauna’s sorry about it.” You smile reflexively, appreciating the attempt at comfort even if it didn’t– 

“I didn’t tell you who I was with.”

Jackie rolls over to face you, her face uncomfortably close to you as she watches you with a pensive expression. She reaches out to put a hand on your arm, giving you an apologetic smile.

“I just figured. I’ve never seen Shauna be so crazy about someone before, you know?” Jackie says earnestly, speaking quietly as if sharing a secret. There’s a weight in her observation that feels significant, and you know it’s going to linger in your thoughts long after the conversation ends. Jackie knows Shauna in ways that you’re not sure you could ever begin to understand, and it might be the only confirmation you’ll ever get that Shauna returns your feelings, at least on some level.

“I honestly thought Shauna would…” Her voice falters, nervously biting at her lip as she considers what to say. “I don’t know what I thought.” There’s a depth to her silence, an unspoken observation that you’re not sure was ever meant for you. It hangs uncomfortably in the air for a moment before she continues as if it never happened.

“But I know that if Shauna cares for you, you must be really special.” You’re almost speechless as the words catch you off guard. There’s a warmth to her you weren’t expecting, and as uncomfortable as you are to be on the receiving end of it, you can’t help but feel at ease in her presence.

“Shauna told you about us?” You ask quietly, a little surprised. The idea of Shauna confiding about your relationship to Jackie when she’d repeatedly sworn you to secrecy made you a little bitter, but leave it to Shauna Shipman to be a hypocrite. You couldn’t be that mad, honestly. You had, after all, told your best friend too, even if it was accidental.

“Shauna tells me everything.” She nods. 

The absolute certainty in her voice makes you smile. “Must be nice. Shauna tells me nothing. But you’re wrong, though.”

Jackie frowns. “How so?”

“I don’t even think Shauna likes me,” you confess. “Let alone be ‘crazy’ about me.”

Jackie sighs, a guilty look on her face as she avoids eye contact. “Shauna’s… complicated.”

You scoff. That was certainly a word for it, not the one you’d choose to use, but a word nonetheless. You were having trouble trying to think of any nice words to describe Shauna with, but you knew that wasn’t entirely fair of you. Shauna had plenty of good traits, you knew, but you were still too upset to give her credit for any of those at the moment. 

Jackie’s fond grin as she reaches over to slap your arm does wonders to ease your growing irritation. “Be nice,” she cautions playfully. “That’s my best friend you’re talking about.”

You offer up a small smile as you look away from her to stare up at the ceiling. Jackie’s words, while well intentioned, have given you a lot to think about. As an expert on all things Shauna, you can’t help but re-contextualize your relationship with Shauna in light of the new information she’s so willingly given you.

“Just… Just think about it. Okay?” Jackie adds after a moment, uncomfortable in the growing silence between you. 

You nod slowly and Jackie seems to accept it, rolling over to face away from you again as she settles in. After a while her breathing evens out enough that you know that she’s fallen asleep, and the repetitive nature of it soothes your racing thoughts as you lie awake long into the night thinking. 

… 

Your eyes narrow as you turn from the screen to glare at Jackie. “You didn’t tell me this was a fucking musical,” you accuse.

Jackie shifts uncomfortably, sheepishly offering you the popcorn bowl as she avoids eye contact. “You didn’t ask?”

“I didn’t– I didn’t ask?”

“Nope,” Jackie confirms, nodding as if the conversation was over. 

She wasn’t technically wrong, as she really hadn’t told you anything about what you were going to be watching. Rather, she caught you trying to sneak out of her bed before she woke up and shot you the most pathetic look you’ve ever seen as she asked you to hang out with her today. Which brought you here: sitting on Jackie Taylor’s couch as you contemplated the consequences of just getting up and leaving. She was faster than you, but you’d at least have the element of surprise if you tried to make a break for the door.

As you start to plan out your escape, you’re interrupted by the sound of a knock before the handle turns. The situation starts to dawn on you as Jackie continues to look suspiciously unconcerned about someone just walking into her house.

“You didn’t,” you mutter under your breath. Jackie gives you a guilty look before plastering on a look of surprise as Shauna comes to a sudden stop as she catches sight of the two of you on the couch.

Shauna doesn’t say a word, but her clenched jaw and restless hands betray her clear irritation. Now would be the perfect time to slip out the door behind her, but you find yourself really enjoying the growing jealousy burning behind her eyes. You’re not entirely sure which of you her ire is directed at, but you think you’d be happy with the result either way.

Leaning back lazily against the couch, you cross one leg over the other as you slowly lift your cup to your mouth, an unfazed look on your face as you savor her attention. Meeting her gaze head on, you refuse to yield, your own resolve reflected in Shauna’s eyes as she stares you down. You feel a familiar thrill at the action, a smug grin playing at your lips as Shauna looks away first.

Her head slowly, dangerously, turns to look at Jackie for an explanation. Except, Jackie’s already halfway out of the room. Jackie gives Shauna a sheepish look as she’s caught leaving, mumbling something about forgetting she had homework due as she books it out of the room. You laugh at the sound of a loud thud, a quiet curse coming from Jackie’s mouth as she trips her way up the stairs back into her bedroom.

You pull Jackie’s jacket tighter around you, the action immediately catching Shauna’s attention as she narrows her eyes. Shauna stalks towards you as she sits on the opposite side of the couch, facing you and crossing her legs as she rests her arms on her thighs. She’s quietly contemplating something as she fiddles with something in her pocket, finally pulling it out and holding it out toward you after a long moment of consideration.

You eye your lighter with no shortage of suspicion, quickly reaching forward to grab it from Shauna’s hand as you surreptitiously check it for damage. Shauna looks irritated as you finally give her your attention, rolling her eyes as you slip it back into your pocket. “You left it at my house last night,” she says simply.

You nod, almost accepting the explanation at face value until a thought occurs to you. “Why did you have it on you?”

“You left it at my house last night,” She repeats slowly, as if talking to a child.

You scoff. “No shit. I mean, you didn’t know I would be here, so why did you have it on you?”

Shauna flushes, looking away suddenly as if Jackie’s TV was the most interesting thing she’s ever seen. She mumbles something under her breath that you can’t quite make out, irritating you further as you snatch the remote off the coffee table and turn it off with a push of a button.

“I knew you’d want it back.” Her eyes are still locked on the now blank TV screen, an unreadable look on her face as she rubs her thumb over the hem of her shorts.

You sigh, sitting the remote back down on the table as you stand up. “Well, I have it back now.” The gesture is clear enough that even Shauna understands, her hand shooting out to grab a handful of your jacket before you can walk away. 

You clench your jaw, your nails digging into your hand as you resist the urge to reach out for her. You’ve grown tired of always being the one to fix things. You want to, so badly, but a part of you rebels against the idea. It feels like you’re standing at a crossroads, and you’re unsure of which path you even want to follow. All you know is the constant ache in your chest, and the feelings you aren’t sure you’re allowed to discuss.

“I just… I wanted an excuse to talk to you,” she admits, finally meeting your eyes and holding your gaze. “I didn’t think I’d see you so soon, obviously. It just felt nice to have.”

“Why?” You ask neutrally. You’re desperate for this to work, but afraid of misinterpreting her actions. The fear of disappointment looms large, overshadowing your longing.

“I don’t have anything else of yours, okay?” She crosses her arms across her chest defensively, making a smile tug at your lips.

“Look, about last night…” she begins, her voice hesitant, almost timid, as if she’s afraid of your reaction. It makes you deeply uncomfortable to hear her like that, so unlike her that you can’t help but give her your full attention. “I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have said that.”

You can see the tension in her shoulders as she prepares for the brunt of your anger, ready for the swift kick she thinks she deserves. When you sit back down on the couch, you don’t do either of those things. Instead, you just nod, accepting her apology with a calmness that clearly catches Shauna off guard. 

You weren’t that upset about the words, really. You’d heard worse, even from Shauna herself. “Yeah… Me too.” You’re a little surprised to find that you actually mean the apology.

Shauna looks unsure, her leg bouncing nervously as she waits for you to continue. As it becomes clear that you’re not planning on saying anything else, her shoulders finally relax, the tension leaking from her body as she waits for your next move.

“That’s it?” She sounds frustrated. “You’re just going to accept my apology, just like that?”

“What else do you want me to say, Shauna? This is how things always go. You get mad, you leave, and then you come back acting like nothing ever happened.”

There’s a moment of quiet understanding that passes between you, a silent acknowledgement of the patterns that have long since defined your relationship. 

“I don’t want to keep doing this,” she confesses, her voice heavy with regret.

“Then do something about it, Shauna,” you say firmly, but with enough resignation to catch Shauna’s attention. “I’m not doing this anymore.” You can’t keep letting her walk all over you, no matter how much you like her.

“I don’t want to lose you, but I keep feeling like you’re slipping through my fingers–” She starts, a desperate vulnerability that shocks you into speaking.

“Shauna–” you interject, but she cuts you off with an urgency that’s impossible to ignore.

“I know,” she continues, her words tumbling out in a rush as if she’s been holding onto them for far too long. “I know it’s all my fault and that I’m making it worse, but I don’t know how to be different.”

“This is new for me too, Shauna, but you don’t see me lashing out all the time.”

She grabs for your hand, cradling it between hers as she gives you a pleading look. “I don’t like feeling like this. Like I need you. It’s… It’s not like me.”

A thick silence hangs between you, your mind racing as you try to come up with something to say. You want to believe her, but you’re afraid too. Afraid of getting hurt again, of being told it’s nothing when you know it’s everything. You’ve never felt so unsure before, but the admission is enough for you to bridge the distance between you as you pull her into a hug. 

Shauna gasps at the contact, her hands resting awkwardly on your shoulder before she finally wraps them tightly around you.

“Needing someone isn’t a bad thing, you know?” You say softly. You couldn’t make her believe it, but you needed her to hear it.

Shauna doesn’t say anything, but she buries her face further into your neck. The way she climbs into your lap feels familiar, but it doesn’t feel the same way as it did. As she settles into your embrace, there’s a tenderness to her that you’ve rarely experienced. You can feel the steady rhythm of her breathing as she settles against your chest, the quiet rasp of her breath against your skin.

…

Epilogue

You stare across the diner at Shauna, watching fondly as she writes away in her journal as you wait for your order. It’s a familiar sight, one that never fails to make you smile. You weren’t sure how you always ended up being the one who paid for all your dates, but you didn’t hate it nearly as much as you pretended to. As soon as Shauna catches sight of you carrying everything back to the table, she clicks the cap of her pen back on, sliding her things back into her bag with a fluidity that impresses you.

She relaxes back against the booth as you sit everything in front of her, making no move to help you as she watches with the beginning of a smirk on her face. You talk about anything and everything as you eat, an easy quality to your conversation that once you only dreamed of.

Shauna’s eyes narrow playfully as she catches you sneaking a glance at her milkshake. You grin, unrepentant at having been caught.

“You know that thing in movies where–”

“Don’t push it,” she interrupts grumpily. Despite her irritation, there’s a clear fondness on her face as she squeezes your hand. You laugh, feeling a surge of affection as she pulls her milkshake just out of reach.

“I heard sharing is caring,” you tease, reaching out as if to grab her milkshake before she slaps your hand away.

“Who told you that, Jackie? She was lying to you,” Shauna says firmly, a smile on her face that betrays her attempt at a stern look.

“Come on, Shipman. We’ll get two straws and it’ll be just like that movie you love–”

“No–”

…

Jackie claps her hands together excitedly as she catches sight of the bottle of nail polish remover sitting on the counter. “Do you paint your own nails? Maybe we could paint each others? Shauna’s awful at it, so I’ve never really gotten to do it with someone else.”

You shrug, gesturing vaguely towards the drawer with your nail polish in as you turn away to hide your smirk. You can hear the sounds of her moving things around as she searches through the drawer, excitement slowly fading as she reads through the labels. “Black Onyx, okay,” she mutters, grabbing for another one.

“Fade to Black, no. Black Out, also no.” She starts to sound a little frustrated as she continues.

“Onyx Skies, definitely not. Raven– Do you have any that aren’t black?” She asks, seeming as if it was everything she could do to keep from pouting at you. You laugh quietly as you walk over, pointing one out as she tentatively reaches for it.

“This is a base coat,” Jackie says dismissively, only giving it a second glance as you point at the label. “Invisible,” she reads. “Great. I’ll uh– I’ll do that one.”

Your smile is strained at the edges as you nod, thinking only of what Shauna promised you if Jackie had a good time. She was starting to grow on you anyway, much to your quiet displeasure.

[powdermelonkeg]

But Mystra WASNT right to ask Gale to kill himself. She still told a guy who cared about her "hey. if you love me, destroy yourself for me"

You're right, she did do that. And that's horrible, and shows exactly how little value she places on Gale's life.

And that's the point. She thinks she's in the right. She thinks hurting him is worth everything else she would take out in the process. She thinks she's giving him the best option.

It's very hard, from a mortal perspective, to picture how the gods see things. You can throw analogy after analogy before them to try to comprehend it, but in the end, the gods have power on such a scale that we, as readers and players, do not have an equivalent answer to compare them to.

What we bring to the table, through Tav, is that mortal perspective: we don't care about the greater good of preserving Faerûn's Weave. We don't care about the grand battle between Shar and Selûne that's lasted since the beginning of time. We don't care about the balance of life and death. We're so far beneath eternity-spanning events like that that the here and now are what we care about most.

And that's what the Origins need most. That's what Gale needs most.

Mystra's perspective, what goes on in her head, is a measured, calculated list of facts, weighed against each other:

Gale would do anything for her.

Gale possesses a weapon that needs to be destroyed.

Gale is going to die of that weapon without divine intervention.

The Dead Three are a threat.

The Dead Three have Karsus' crown.

The Dead Three could kill her again.

The scope of her power is such that a single mortal life is worth very little. Ketheric was onto something when he said "We are copper pieces in their belts. Tokens to be traded for scraps." Because that's what Mystra's doing, isn't it? She's cashing in on Gale's devotion to her.

Mystra sees a problem. She realizes she holds the solution. She thinks she's making it right by offering eternity. She fancies herself as being patient and kind by letting that solution choose to work for her.

That's the divine perspective.

The mortal perspective, the perspective that matters most, is best summed up by two lines of Gale and Mystra's conversation in the Stormshore Tabernacle:

Mystra: You discovered what lies at the Heart of the Absolute—the Crown of Karsus—and you disobeyed my instruction. Why?

Gale: Because you had no right to ask that of me!

She didn't. She doesn't.

The divine perspective is the one that lacks love. It lacks the ability to see value in a person, for being a person. It quantifies what worth something has by what it can do for you. And it is dangerous, because it cannot be told it is wrong.

Gale and Mystra were always an unbalanced relationship. When he was young, she was his teacher: she knew things he didn't, withheld them until he was ready to learn them, and directly controlled his interaction with her craft.

When she was his muse, she was the font of his creativity. He made things in her name, for little but attention in return. He gave, and gave, and was wholly devoted to her. Such is the nature of gods that it's foolish to expect them to give back to you at all.

And then she was his lover. And she was untouchable. She cannot be told "no" definitively; the only guarantee that she'll adhere to a "no" is her own personal moral code, or lingering admiration for the person who says it. She can't give herself to someone. She can spend time with them, but she can never give equally. She is a god. She exists to be served.

Gale's life, before the tadpole, was defined by Mystra. He was destined for greatness, spoke personally with Elminster, wielded the Blackstaff—and yet, he says he had no friends, and few colleagues. He's had mortal lovers, but they barely get a footnote in the story of his life. His social circle was "the size of a pinhead."

Mystra, by nature of being a god, intentionally or not, isolated Gale from his peers. You could argue any number of reasons why—my own personal bet being that he was so enamored with her that everyone else fell to the wayside—but he is alone. Even Lorroakan, down in Baldur's Gate, knew about him, and defines him only by nature of his relationship to Mystra.

The nature of gods is that anyone they speak with is now worlds away from anyone once called friends. How do you hold conversations with people when you're everyone at the table's god's favorite?

Mystra's very presence eroded away Gale over time. His friendships suffered. His joy in mortal sides of himself withered. His outlook on his own merits was restricted to what he could do with the magic at his command—did Mystra only see value in that, or did his peers and former lovers only care for what she gifted him? Both are likely. Especially with this line in his romance: "To know you love me for the man I am, and not the magic I command—none have loved me so purely."

And that isolation tore him open after his claim of the Netherese Orb, because he locked himself in his tower for a year. He didn't have those connections to reach out and ask for help, because being a god's lover burned that all away.

And then, after silence, after her fury leading to his terrified misery, after he thinks he's going to die any day, she comes in with a double-edged sword, putting the Orb to rest, at last, while telling him to fall to it anyway. The power imbalance is on full display, here: her expectations are so unrealistic that it will destroy him, in the name of forgiveness. If he loves her, he should give everything for her.

And he is going to do it.

There's such a tangled mess of emotions that explode from that.

She stabilized him. She could have done that whenever. She didn't, because it didn't serve her needs.

A year of silence, Gale thinking she'd taken everything from him and Mystra not caring enough to explain otherwise, and the first thing she says is die.

He's a pawn. Literally. She wants him to go to the other side of the board and trade his life for the winning move.

He doesn't want to die. But he's terrified that that's what's best for the world.

The divine perspective is that he gets what he deserves. The divine perspective is that she's being merciful, because she's giving him a home afterwards with her.

The mortal perspective is that she's cruel. That this is cruel. That Gale is only worth what he can give to her. That his death is more useful than his life. That ending that beautiful man with all his wants, and hopes, and dreams, at the drop of a pin, is nothing to her.

If you explode Gale at Moonrise, the Sword Coast falls to the Mindflayers. Mystra is a god, she can see that outcome. But she is a god of magic, and as such, it's not her problem. Her problem has been dealt with.

Let me go back to Withers' question:

Withers: And so, I ask again: what is the worth of a single mortal life?

Tav: Each life is of infinite value and merits sacrificing everything for.

Withers: And thus, balance is achieved.

Mystra cannot answer this question correctly. A single mortal life could never be worth the sacrifice in her eyes. She uses people as a means to an end, because the ends justify the means retroactively to her. Dornal Silverhand's suffering and Elué Silverhand's death begot her seven powerful Chosen. Two people for the wellbeing of many. She'll continue to use people like this, because that's what she is. That's what godhood entails.

Gale could likely answer this question properly, though not act on it perfectly. If his Netherese blight could save people, even if it's terrifying, he would blow himself up. He has to be talked down from it. He doesn't realize that he is one of those lives of infinite value.

What about God Gale? Can he answer it?

Of course not. He wouldn't sacrifice his godhood to come back home to mortality. He looks down on mortal life. He thinks he's above it. He, a newly minted god, is a perfect window into the basis of how gods perceive things.

Mystra asking Gale to kill himself betrays her lack of value in him as a person. Like God Gale, she looks down on mortality, just much, much more subtly. He's a means to an end. All mortals are.

Pawn to Cleric Four.

[erikatsu]

HOLD ME WHILE YOU WAIT ── BLADE

✩ »› SUMMARY: an unexpected visitor from the past shows up for a final goodbye, but you won't let him get away again that easily.

✩ »› PAIRING: blade x fem!reader

✩ »› WARNINGS: HEAVY BLADE & QUINTET LEAK/LORE SPOILERS. hurt/no comfort(?). reader is implied to be a vidyadhara. pet name (àirén (愛人) meaning "lover"). mentions of death. so extremely selfship coded that im posting late. unedited.

✩ »› NOTE: this was supposed to be a drabble but it's hit 2k. whoops.

you were cold. it wasn't like you to let anger fester in complete silence— especially when it was directed towards him. blade was unsure how to feel about it, as he'd never been a target of your temper. he could tell by the stern grip you had on his wrist, and how you pulled a little too hard on the bandages you were redressing. you were tight lipped, eyes fixated on the wounds that would never fully heal. it was a stark comparison from how tender and gentle you would handle him when he came to you hurt. although, you could argue a few differences in him that you had noticed too.

like how the once dexterous hands you were mending used to create beautiful weapons in years long passed, and now they would never design an ornate blade again. his strands of snow white hair were now so blue they were nearly black. the boyish smile that he always donned as soon as he would see you.. had not once reached his lips since he had first shown up. the person you were helping was just the shell of a man you once knew.

the man you knew was ambitious and resilient. the master crafstman who worked his way from the bottom up in a foreign land was now a skilled fighter who wielded his own blade. you could remember each time he attempted to spar with dan heng– ending up being knocked on his ass and at your door with a new wound for you to patch up. how fitting was it that you were the first one there when he awoke from death's door.

you were there to hear his screams, to sit aside as he healed himself faster than you ever could, to silence the monster that stirred inside him. the first time the mara struck, your power over imagination was finally useful after weeks of just helplessly watching him break and heal over and over again.

and you watched as he lost his memory every time– the way he looked at you in complete and utter confusion. he would hold your gaze until his mind pieced everything together— his bottom lip trembling in relief and his hands cupping your face. while the breath of fresh air you provided allowed him to feel safe, it could never silence those from the nightmares that would plague his mind for days to come.

you hated seeing him in so much pain, especially because there was only so much that you cold to do help him. the mara healed him faster than you could, and it left you feeling utterly useless to watch the cycle start and end on a loop until his body became adjusted to it.

then one day, he was just... gone.

you didn't know what happened, or what was going through his mind. did the mara-strike? did he have another nightmare, only for you to not be there to pull him back to reality? or... did he suddenly realize that he no longer needed you? the need to know these answers nagged at you until you finally broke the silence.

"do you remember me," you started off your question, rolling the bandage over hist wrist, "or did you come here out of instinct?"

he was silent for a moment, staring at nothing in particular. he still refused to meet your eyes, knowing that one small glance was all it would take to find himself remembering all the happy moments that he needed to forget.

"i remember," he finally responded. he always would. every scar, every nightmare, every time the monster took over. he remembered all of it.

he didn't think he could forget the face of someone he once deeply cared for– someone he didn't want to admit he still cared about. he'd never forget the gentleness of your hands, despite you being rough now, or the way your presence alone was enough to ground him.

"then why are you here?" you gritted out, a rigidness in your voice he had only heard maybe once or twice before, and never directed at him.

he didn't know how to answer that. there were several ways to do so, seeing how open ended it was. of course, he knew you didn't mean why was he on the luofu, but why he had sought you out after all this time. he could lie and say it was instinct, or that he just felt like taking a trip down memory lane. to tell the truth would be opening a door of emotions he had suppressed for centuries, which lead to vulnerability.

because the truth was, he missed you. he missed how whole he used to feel– how human he was. he missed the peace he could get only from you. while kafka could temporarily silence the hidden monster, you could put it to sleep. and he wanted to feel completely human one last time before his life could finally end.

his silence was a good enough of answer for you.

slowly, you let go of his hand, letting his arm drop to his side. before you could stand, he let his head drop and rest on your shoulder. you stiffened, sharply inhaling at the sudden urge to pull him closer. his breath wavered, realizing the rift between you two couldn't be sewn up by history. you two had a lot of history, and yet you still weren't sure that's what the two of you were now.

you almost smiled, looking back on the days when everything felt so… right in the world. if you indulged those memories, you knew you'd break your resolve.

though it seemed your mind wouldn't allow you to escape it as soon as it felt your longing.

glimpses of the instant connection between the two of you when you first met, helping him at his workshop instead of doing your duties as an elder, watching the sunset together as you sat atop the jade gate, putting paper flower crowns on his soft hair. all the little moments and the big one's briefly flashing before your eyes.

you remembered when he had first moved to luofu. you'd been sent to the artisanship commission when they requested medical attention for a collapsed resident, tending to the outworlder who had gone days without eating and a solid eight hours of sleep. you normally would have lectured him on taking better care of himself, but you couldn't help how shy he'd made you feel with just a sheepish smile. you simply ordered him to bed rest for a few days, which he in turn spent waiting outside of the alchemy commission for you to get a break so he could treat you to lunch or tea.

what started as a few innocent dates blossomed into a romance that was doomed from the start. a human and a life long species were never meant to last. most on the luofu saw humans as ordinary, and you saw those who resided in the luofu as reckless and chasing a dream they could never achieve. he changed that.

he changed so many of your outlooks just by being himself. he made you see the beauty of a human life, and how one lifecycle wasn't inferior to another. he'd shown you the true meaning behind the beauty of the world with just the warmth from his soul.

a warmth that was still there, but barely hanging on.

you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to lean into him. you could feel him relax, exhaling a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. slowly, he wrapped his arms around you, resisting the urge to give in completely.

just as you opened your mouth to repeat your question, he finally spoke.

"i needed to see you," he paused, his voice soft despite clinging to you as if he were petrified that you would slip away from him. "just one last time."

your bottom lip trembled at his words. just one last time. it sounded like a goodbye– one that you never had to begin with. but this farewell seemed heavier than any you had ever faced before, as if it held a double meaning. it made your heart clench tightly in your chest, and suddenly what little strength you had holding your resolve fractured and fell apart.

"àirén, you're not supposed to go where i cannot follow."

death was the one place you could not follow, just as he could not follow you into another life. your species could not procreate, and any deaths lead to dwindling numbers. you were stuck in an endless cycle of life and rebirth, destined to one day forget who you were even holding onto. you weren't sure how much time you had left anyway. a day? a year? so much time wasted without him when you could and should have been there for him.

even if he were to die, and you were to molt the next day... you knew deep down you'd awaken missing a piece of yourself that you would never be able to find. while rebirth would erase any memories you once had, it could not completely sever emotional ties. you'd seen it yourself. couples always found each other again even if they couldn't remember– the special bond they shared would carry over no matter how many times it was forgotten.

but what of those who created special bonds with mortals?

was a life with a hole permanently embedded in your chest better than death? or would it feel the same? maybe they were different. the feeling of a waterlogged existence versus a peaceful end. to live on despite the pain instead of succumbing to an endless darkness. you didn't know which would be worse.

yet, you found yourself sighing, tears finally trailing down your cheeks. you never thought one person could make you question life itself. and you never expected to be able to find any beauty in death.

"then again... six hundred years is a long time to live, isn't it?" the words you spoke shook him, causing him to lift his head.

the fire that made up his eyes found yours, desperately searching them the way he did when waking from a nightmare. he knew what you meant, and he knew what you'd be giving up. after all, the general had warned him to leave you alone. that you were finally serious about your job, and that you had a little shadow who followed you around and learned from you. he couldn't– no, he wouldn't ask you to leave everyone and everything behind. oh, but aeons, he wanted to.

he wanted to give into his selfish desires, to live what little time he had left with you by his side. he wanted to settle his scores, not just for himself but for you as well. for the time lost and the pain you faced as he went through his unwelcome change. yet he refrained, taking off on his own because he couldn't ask that of you. only for you to tell him he never needed to.

it was something he couldn't wrap his mind around. you had been angry– harsh glances and touches to confirm that when you refused to talk. now, you were sad and telling him what he'd only dreamed of hearing. he wasn't sure if you were messing with him–toying with the emotions he'd been suppressing for centuries.

the only thing he could bring himself to ask was, "why?"

"time does not heal all wounds," you couldn't help but look away. "and i know what is waiting for me in the next life. time also cannot erase what is held in the heart. while i may be angry and hurt, i've never been able to hide that i still love you. i will always love you."

perhaps he was your greatest weakness, and you were his. maybe it was senseless to rush into an ending you couldn't come back from. but at the very end, you'd at least have him.

you could not live for someone you'd inevitably forget. but to give your life for them? well, you thought while finally meeting his eyes again. you cupped his cheeks in your hands before bridging the gap between you two, maybe the most romantic ending for you both could only be death. all you had to do was just hold onto him while you waited.

[stargazedwinchester]

Delicate | Dean

One for the Taylor’s Version series! Masterlist is linked here! <3

Summary: You're worried about what people would say if you dated the infamous Dean Winchester. Is the risk worth compromising your vulnerability and reputation?

This ain't for the best My reputation's never been worse, so You must like me for me We can't make any promises now, can we, babe? But you can make me a drink

Word count: 1,600

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

“You sat here?” A low grumble arises behind you, and you turn around. “What does it look like?Looking up, you address the tall man with a dark demeanor and broad shoulders. He takes a sip of his — whatever he’s got — and purses his lips. His hair is gelled, but not overly so. Flecks of dark, dirty blonde brushes through it. His cheeks are chiselled and his 5 o’clock shadow compliments his structure. He smirks at you, glancing at a seat beside you. “If you don’t mind?” He asks politely, gesturing his hand toward the stool. You nod. “Sure.” You take a swig of your drink and place the empty glass down on the bar mat. You turn to face him, his face looking troubled.

“Any reason you’re here?” You ask, flagging down a bartender and reordering the same drink.

“Honestly?”

“Shoot.”

“You.”

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

A few months had gone by. Your weekly check-ins with The Dean Winchester had become more frequent, the relationship between you both growing fonder each time. You would tell your hunter friends back home that you had met someone at this bar, only sticking with first names. If they ever found out… God knows what they’d say. Dean's name is infamous in this community. Uncertainty with their trust runs through your stomach, making you feel uneasy.

You’re well known because of your family’s history, your mother’s insane skills wielding a gun and/or a weapon of her choice and your father’s knowledge of lore and logic were unmatched. They became the most honourable pair in hunter history. But Deans history, well, that’s another story to tell another time.

You sat up in bed with him lying across your torso, his elongated legs hang over the edge of the bed. His bare back is warm, and his towering frame engulfs you. Deep, slow breaths make his chest rise and deflate. You run your hands through his hair, scratching his back lightly whilst you glance at your phone.

Constant news stories flash up online, a steady reminder of what you did. Hiding away wasn’t your original plan, but for the moment, it’s working out. Dean invited you back to his place, which is quite literally an underground bunker that he shares with his brother. You both had agreed to endure in a hunt, ending with you having to save Dean’s ass and him immediately needing to take you back to his place. When you asked why, he said it was a ‘surprise’. You accepted, which obviously resulted in this. He’s sleeping soundly on your chest whilst your whole world falls apart.

After what felt like another hour, you decide to get out of bed and get ready for the day. You leave Dean to sleep in, so you go to the bathroom and take a well-needed shower.

As you step into the shower, the cold water hits your face and runs down your body. Flashbacks from before enter your mind uninvited.

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

The screams, oh God, the screams. They’re horrific. You watch your sister’s face as you leave her in a bloody mess on the floor. Her legs were paralysed. “Y/N!” She screeches, you turn away from her, shuddering. “Y/N, don’t you dare leave me.” She stirs, the coarseness of her voice echoes through the place, and you try to not let it affect you. “You’re not real, Y/S/N.” Tears build up and a large bubble in your throat starts to form, but you push it down.

You turn around and look back at your sister, who’s laid flat on her stomach with her arm reaching up for you. Her eyes are pure burgundy. Your actual sister passed a few years ago, completely unrelated to the supernatural universe, but this is exactly what’s led you to hunting, to allow yourself to get back at the world for harming your beautiful sister. She meant the world to you and more.

Seeing her in this way hurts you in more ways than imaginable. You wouldn’t wish having to relive a nightmare like this on your worst enemy.

As you glance at her one more time, you pull your knife from your holster and rush toward her, stabbing her multiple times. You’re sat over her, blood splashing everywhere and her lifeless body lays still as you puncture her skin. Letting out a cry, you begin to slow down as your hands become weak. You drop the knife and sob to yourself.

A figure stands in the doorway. He must’ve seen the whole thing. You become hysteric. “Oh fuck,” you whisper to yourself, looking down at your clothes and your hands. You can’t even tell what colour shirt you were wearing before the blood went everywhere.

Oh God, the blood.

You look up again, and the figure is still there. This time, with a phone in his hand. He reaches up to his ear and turns around.

“Hello? Yes, I need police and an ambulance.” He starts. “Fuck,” you try to think of ways to get out of this situation without getting involved with the law and not having to hurt the guy who’s called them. Your eyes widen at the thought of having to kill someone else, as if it’s a sane thing to go ahead with.

“Well, the girls on my property,” he laughs dryly with the operator on the other side. “And she’s just murdered her sister.”

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

Sometimes getting in the shower when everything goes wrong fixes it all. But not this time.

You go back to your room and get dressed. It takes everything in you to not run right now. Staying in a place for too long can lead to many bad things, what if Dean knows what you did? What if he’s going to turn you in?

The questions run through your head like there’s no tomorrow. The answers to them, of course, are so obvious you can’t help but think otherwise.

Moving into the kitchen, you meet eyes with Dean, who’s whipping up some breakfast for you both. Sam is nowhere to be seen, and you assume he’s still in his room or had already gone out for the day. Nothing else will reclaim your thoughts other than what happened to your sister. Dean notices the hurt before you could even register it yourself, and he stops what he’s doing and walks toward you.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” His eyes gleam with comfort and care, looking down at you, cradling you. Your heart breaks hearing Dean sound so protective and nurturing when all you’ve known is trouble. Dean had brought you amenity in other ways, but this feels more personal. Intimate.

You let a tear fall down your face; you look up at Dean who’s staring at you, awaiting an answer. He lifts his hand and wipes the tear away.

“I haven’t been honest with you,” you start, and pull away from his grasp. You go to turn away from him and he pulls you back. “What do you mean?” He starts, clearly looking for something else to add, but there’s nothing. “I don’t even know how to say this,” you linger, and Dean allows you time to get yourself together.

“There’s no easy way of saying it, but I’m a wanted criminal and I murdered my sister. My bounty is thousands upon thousands of dollars. They're going to find me eventually.” You can’t take your eyes off of the floor, and Dean just stands there. “I’m a hunter, just like you, but I don’t want to get you in trouble. I’ve overstayed my welcome, so I need to go.” Pursing your lips, you nod slightly, allowing yourself to prepare yourself to hit the road. You hold back your tears as you force yourself away from Dean’s grip, walking toward the bedroom the pair of you shared.

“Wait,” Dean calls, chasing after you. “It doesn’t have to be like this.” He tries to calm you down, but it doesn’t work. You have no energy to try and fight back that you need to leave, so you flop down onto the bed and cry. “What are you so afraid of? That you’re going to get caught?” He asks curiously. Glancing up at him, you shrug.

“You want the truth?”

“Shoot.”

“I really, really like you, Dean. In the months we’ve spent together, I’ve grown more fond of your company and I’ve realised I don’t want to bring my past into your life. I don’t want to hurt you and I can’t bring myself to hurt you.” You confess, and he sits down next to you. You turn to face him. His eyes are glossy and he’s frowning slightly. “Your past matters to me. You being a criminal does not. In fact, I’m damn sure I’ve done a hell of a lot worse and got away with it.” He chuckles, and you smile shyly.

“I’m sorry about your sister, I am, but you’ll be safe with me. Hell, we have Cas with us, and Jack… If anything happens, you’re safe.” He pats your thigh, keeping his hand there. You sheepishly reach over and kiss his cheek, and his eyes widen a small amount, somewhat surprised by your reaction. He turns around and cups your face, scanning every detail before leaning in to give you a real, loving kiss.

As your lips part, you both smile. You know that this time, this kiss meant something more than just hooking up. It was delicate, something that was intentional but full of love.

“Do you promise I’ll be okay?”

“We’ll be fine, baby. I’m sure of it.”

[apomaro-mellow]

King and Prince 31

Part 30

The crowd was filled to the brim. Eddie’s inner circle was seated in the royal viewing box. Eddie wasn’t there yet though. Because of course he had to make an entrance. As a great black bird, he flew over the venue, his cry echoing through the field. He landed in the center of the arena in an explosion of black shadows as he took his human form to the cheers of his subjects. 

“Dearest people of the land!”, he addressed. “We have gathered to settle the dispute between two men. But before I introduce them, let me settle the rumors. I am indeed courting Steven of the house Harrington.”

There was a hushed murmur among the audience. So it was true. Their king was trying to gain the favor of a prince from a country that had until recently been challenging their borders. The people had chalked up the lull in activity to the usual break when the demobeasts went into hibernation. But could it have been because of this? Eddie wouldn’t reveal that Steve had been taken hostage and had turned into a ward of his castle. That was Steve’s story to tell should he wish it. Eddie would only say what his people deserved to know.

“That brings us to today. For one man has sullied the names of us both and my intended requires satisfaction.” He was beaming, happy to have someone who burned with a righteous fury for him.”Without further ado! Our combatants!” He gave a sweeping bow to applause as Jason and Steve entered from opposite sides of the arena.

“Jason Carver has laid down words that he refuses to take back. Steven Harrington has thrown down the challenge. What are the terms?”

“Apologize to your sovereign and swear fealty, or meet your end at my hand”, Steve said, expression hard and unforgiving.

“I will do no such thing. And when you yield to me, your only path will be banishment”, Jason replied, face just as stern.

The clasped arms and then turned to go back to opposite ends of the arena. Eddie floated over to the viewing box and waited for both of them to grab their weapons of choice. Jason picked up a sword and shield, a classic decision. When he turned to meet Steve’s gaze, he could see that the prince’s choice wasn’t quite as common.

Steve went without a shield. And grasped tightly in both hands instead was a war hammer. The staff stopped just short of his shoulder, the head about twice as large as his own. The rod ended with an iron counterweight. Eddie looked to Lucas.

“Has he been training with that this whole time?”

“He’s a pro”, Lucas praised.

Dustin’s whole mouth showed with his smile. “Carver is about to get tenderized like a steak.”

“A brutish weapon befitting a barbarian”, Jason said, more to the crowd than to Steve.

Steve’s expression didn’t change as he got in his stance and waited for Eddie to officially start the bout. Eddie stood from his seat, his voice reverberating through all in attendance as he shouted.

“BEGIN!”

Jason did catch Steve a little off guard when he lunged first, closing the distance between them. With the kind of weapon Steve was wielding, most would keep away. But he could guess as to why Jason wanted the first blow. He wanted this to be quick and decisive. Anyone would fold with a few well placed cuts and stabs.

He was probably also hoping to tire Steve out. Steve would make sure it wasn’t so easy for him. When Jason lunged, he stepped out of the way and swung his hammer. Jason raised his shield to take the blow and blocked it well, but his eyes popping said he hadn’t been expecting the power behind it.

Jason re-evaluated, taking a step back. And where he retreated, Steve would advance, making wide swings that had Jason backing up even more.

Eddie’s hands were clenched into fists in his lap. He had caught Steve training Lucas a couple times and sure he took things seriously, but it was a master putting a student through his trials. Eddie hadn’t been allowed to view Steve’s personal training this week. But he’d seen knight after knight tending to their bruises. If he’d been able to watch Steve then, was this the sight he would’ve seen? Steve moving like both a dancer and a predator, his hammer his loyal partner.

The hollers of the kids told him that even this was different than what they had seen. He imagined Steve wouldn’t attack his knights with the ferocity he was meeting Jason with. At one point, Steve slammed it down and Jason just barely jumped out of the way. When Steve pulled it back up, Eddie could see the dent in the ground. A hit in the right place and broken bones would be the least of Jason’s worries.

Then Steve stopped his onslaught, taking a breath as he circled Jason. When he started again, Jason raised his shield to each attempt, seemingly blocking them all. 

“He’s gonna turn Carver’s arm to paste”, Nancy commented.

Part of the crowd was raising their voices in cheer for Jason, unable to see what Nancy’s eyes did. Steve kept going for Jason’s left side, wanting him to use his shield. Because while it stopped him from hitting Jason’s entire body, it still took the brunt force of the hammer coming down on it. And that was evident as each time his arm was slower and slower to rise.

Tired of being on the defensive, Jason lowered his shield to jab at Steve. He managed to get a few knicks in, going for Steve’s head each time and giving him cuts on his neck and face. Eddie’s leg bobbed anxiously. He didn’t think Steve would lose. The only question was how much damage would he take before claiming victory.

The crowd wasn’t sure what to make of Steve, many recognizing him from dominating the spring games but not knowing his true identity then. In a shocking move, Jason dropped his shield and threw his sword at Steve. He dodged and it lodged itself into the ground, but that confusion was enough of a distraction for Jason to tackle him to the ground. The staff of the hammer stood between them, both men pushing on it.

“Forfeit and all will be forgiven”, Jason said. “We will wed and this can all be forgotten. I’ll make an honest man out of you.”

“What?”

“You know I’m the right choice.”

With a roar, Steve pushed Jason off and rose up to his knees. “You’re vile and I’m going to end you.” he set his hammer, head side down and grabbed the sword Jason had been using. He tossed it back to him, waiting for him to pick it up.

When Jason did, Steve picked up his hammer again. This time he didn’t hold back. He advanced, forcing Jason to make fruitless slashes. Steve used the end of his hammer to knock Jason’s wrist, forcing him to drop the sword. He could see the fear in Jason’s eyes but didn’t let up. His next strike was with the head of the hammer, getting Jason right in the leg and making him fall to the ground. 

Steve stood over him, hammer poised to strike. But he paused to look at Eddie, his shoulders rising and falling as he panted. 

Eddie’s eyes had been glued to Steve’s form. As had everyone else’s. But at this pause, the crowd hushed, waiting for their king’s decision. Would he smile with grace on the Carver boy? Or would he approve his execution?

Eddie stood up. “He is at your mercy, Your Highness.”

It had been so long since anyone had referred to Steve like that. With any sort of respect or reverence for his title. He looked down at Jason, imagined his head cracking like a melon and the crowd cheering for him. The rightful order restored. He slammed his hammer down, splitting the ground under it, but not Jason’s head.

“You live by the grace of me”, Steve said, picking his hammer up and raising it above his head to thunderous cheers.

Jason was stationary on the ground until people came to gather him and check over his wrist and leg. 

Eddie jumped out of the box and ran right to Steve, grabbing his free hand and lifting it up. “Our champion!”

Steve was able to deposit the hammer with one of those employed by the castle’s armory and Eddie walked him out of the arena. Once out of sight from most of the crowd, Eddie scooped Steve up and Steve let him, exhausted from the fight.

“You were magnificent, a vision, unstoppable. Like a divine spirit of justice incarnate. Poets could spend ages trying to capture your excellence in words and would fail to do so.”

“Oh but I’m certain you’ll try”, Steve teased as Eddie carried him back to his tent to be tended to and freshen up. There were games scheduled for the small folk and for children as well. No need to let this good weather and arena only see one bout today.

When Steve rejoined the public, it was on the arm of the king and to his viewing box where all who could see observed their lord and ruler feed this mighty warrior by hand. And Steve had been right about Eddie trying his damndest to capture his feats in writing. Because just the next day, he awoke to about half a dozen love letters all about the previous day’s fight.

Part 32

Taglist CLOSED

@thesuninyaface @only-evanescent  @snakeorsquid  @ignoremyworld  @theclichefortunecookie 

@goodolefashionedloverboi  @just-a-tiny-void  @0body0disphoria0  @cinnamon-mushroomabomination  @samsoble 

@jamieweasley13  @y4r3luv  @xtkxkrzrizir  @un-knownperson  @greekgeek24 

@justdrugsformethanks  @potato-of-the-lord  @notaqueenakhaleesi  @swimmingbirdrunningrock  @queenie-ofthe-void 

@nebulainajar  @lil-gremlin-things  @nicememerino  @robininblue  @hornedqueenofhell 

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@lil-gremlin-things @littlebluejane @puppy-steve

[wannaeatramyeon]

Can we get lookism boys seeing their s/o for the first time?

Literally love at first sight and maybe their reactions?

Thanks,

Thanks for the ask! I've written a few slightly more fleshed out 'Meeting for the First Time' listed here (Gun, Goo, Jake, Johan). But let's do some other scenario for my usual suspects.

Umm...I actually really dislike the love at first sight trope. But I do like the double-take at first meeting trope, yknow what I'm saying? Here's a mix of everything!

Love at First Sight Double-Take at First-ish Meeting: Gun, Goo, Jake, Sammy, Vin + Taehoon!

Gun Park - Ultra Instinct

Gun is not ashamed to admit that it was the sashay of your hips that turned his head at first. He is a hot blooded male after all.

And then when you whirled around, asking "See something you like?"with a confident smirk and your own jet-black eyes staring back, moments before landing a throat punch.

Well. Gun is a goner. Head over heels, lying-awake-thinking-of-you obsessed.

Maybe he should have gotten a name. But two UI users meeting each other can't just be a coincidence, he must be destined to see you again.

Who would have thought Gun Park would believe in something as ridiculous as fate.

.

.

Goo Kim - Reflection

Goo detested you on first meeting. How can such a pretty face have so much venom.

All double-edged and saccharine, nothing to be taken at face value. You even had the audacity to ask if the weapon wielding was compensating for something.

And to add insult to injury, Gun had laughed. Goo didn't even realise Gun was capable of such emotion.

Ugh. Goo does not like having a taste of his own medicine.

As the day dragged on, Goo's obsession grew. It really was like looking into a mirror. Sure this reflection isn't as sexy as his usual. But. It's still pretty sexy nonetheless.

Huh, he wanders the corridors with a sly grin, wondering about you, Let's see how well you can keep up with me.

.

.

Jake Kim - Business Unit for Rent

Jake, for some bizarre reason relegated to realtor duties, shows you around the vacant Big Deal Street business unit. A long empty store that, fingers crossed, after today would no longer be a drain on the finances.

"All this can be yours for 2 million won a month," he flashes his most dazzling smile. Charming and toothy that he knows few could resist.

Unfortunately, it is completely missed by you as you continue casting an astute eye over the premises.

"Ah look at the state of this. The ventilation system is awful."

Jake blinks, looking at whatever the hell you're pointing at. "It is?"

"And the walls! It'll need plastering and floors completely redone."

"Um. Maybe it has been a while since-"

"I heard the footfall is terrible here. Constantly declining. 23% down on last year?"

Your sharp eyes peer into his and he freezes. Where the hell did you even get those stats? Not even Lua or Jason would know this.

"Well..." he scratches the back of his head, thinking of what to say.

Half an hour later, after a whirlwind of complaints and pointing out flaws, you've signed a 12 month contract for less than half the initial asking price.

Shit, Jake thinks, Jason is going to kill me. Actually... Fuck. This unit had been recently renovated to attract potential renters. And footfall figures? Must be plucked out of thin air.

You completely twisted his arm with your bullshit.

Jake can't even bring himself to be mad, he's impressed. Who the hell are you? He's looking forward to seeing more of you and your smart mouth.

.

.

Samuel Seo - Tattoos (let's ignore the timelines here)

Not many people pass Samuel's exacting standard on first meeting, but you do. He's frankly impressed with your work.

Someone similar to his age yet already amassing an impressive portfolio with impeccable linework and pristine colouring. No wonder you're booked out for months.

"So," your hands graze over his pecs, all strictly business yet his skin prickles at your touch. "You're thinking of your first tattoo here?"

"Yes."

"Cool, and you want it to eventually be a Sak Yant full body?" He nods. "Ok, it's going to take a while and quite a few sessions."

You give him a smile that leaves his throat dry. "Guess we're going to see a lot of each other."

.

.

Vin Jin - My name

Vin holds out his phone and with his most charming smirk, asks for your number.

"Sure," you fold your arms, showing no intention of reaching for the device, "You can have my number if you tell me my name."

"What?"

"I'm waiting," And now it's your turn to plaster on your smirk.

Fuck, who the hell do you think you are. Vin storms into the corridor, ego bruised and mood soured. Ugh, whatever. He has plenty of chicks interested anyway. He doesn't need to-

The lightbulb goes off over his head. Mary must know. She knows goddamn everything going on in this school.

Vin dashes off in search for her, thoughts from seconds ago already completely erased and giddy at the thought of finally getting your name and your number.

.

.

Seong Taehoon - Taekwondo

The first oddity is having someone your age show up for their first lesson. Then it turns out it's not your first.

The second oddity is when Taehoon tells you to show him what you got, you execute a perfect 1080 kick.

The last oddity, which really shouldn't be an oddity at all for Taehoon's ego, is that you are a fan of his from his UFC days and you think Taekwondo is the best.

Damn. And all that punctuated with a perfect 90 degree bow and 'Master Seong' too.

If that isn't the perfect way to worm yourself under his skin. Taehoon's going to be keeping an eye on you.

[bones4thecats]

Hi maybe the transformers prime megatron, starscream and shockwave having a lute (hazbin hotel) s/o who is their second in command and is always by their side

TFP! Decepticons with a 'Con-Lute! S/O

Characters: Megatron, Starscream, and Shockwave (Transformers Prime) Requester: ❣️Anon A/N: Anons, please add emojis when requesting. I made a whole announcement on this. I don't mean to be rude, but just add an emoji when you do this! Thank you. Also, I'll give you an emoji, you'll be ❣️Anon, and I do hope you like this, it is mainly what they like about the Reader and how they bonded. ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: Mentions of war and physically harming someone ⚠️

Disclaimer: This includes spoilers for Season One of Hazbin Hotel

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Megatron ══════════════════════════════╝

👑 As a former Gladiator within the Pits of Kaon and a former member of the Cybertronian Air Force, you were trained to be strict and highly dangerous. And that is always on full-display whenever you went against the Autobots

👑 You would wield your sword against the 'Bots while your sparkmate, the Decepticon-Warlord Megatron, would watch from the Nemesis as you handed your enemies their afts

👑 Whenever you are not out fighting and leading your own part of the Decepticon army, you would be right by Megatron's side. You would be walking alongside him, your arms folded behind your back like your lover

👑 He likes watching you fight and defend the Decepticon cause. Especially whenever it revolves around Starscream attempting to offline Megatron or you. But, whenever he tries attacking you, Megatron would intimidate him into submission again

👑 You're useful to the cause. And your savagery is very useful against your shared enemies, such as when Arcee attacked you and you managed to slice one of her optics in half, rendering her vision half-as-good as it once was

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Starscream ════════════════════════════╝

💫 Starscream adores you. And I mean that.

💫 You are known far and wide for your mastery using your weapons, whether it be a sword or even a bomb, you would put use to everything around you at moment's notice

💫 Starscream initially found you to be helpful with getting his status up and keeping him safe from any who opposed him. But, over time you proved to be quite the loyal 'Con, using your fighting skills against anyone who proved a danger

💫 His feelings finally came to his processor when you stabbed an Autobot fighter from behind when he tried attacking the Seeker from behind during the start of the war

💫 Anyways, he uses his own mental tactics to get what he wants, you on the other hand use physical force more often. But, after spending enough time around the Cybertronian Seeker, you began to pick up some styles of mental manipulation, which made him proud

💫 You're his shield. I have no other way to put it. Like, he doesn't want to seem like he finds you useless, but he's built so tiny while you're like him, but have the strength of Wreckers like Bulkhead because of your training

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Shockwave ═════════════════════════════╝

🧪 When Shockwave first met you, he was slightly surprised to see just how disciplined you were. He liked silence when working, so you would stand by his lab's door not making a sound while he walked around a worked. After all, Decepticons naturally have no care for other's opinions

🧪 He was also curious on how much you knew on his experiments. Hell, one time you had brought him an energon cube - as he was in dire need of it - and asked if you could question him on an alien species he had encased in a jar

🧪 When he told you their common name, believing you wouldn't know anymore about them, he heard you say their scientific one and begin to speak about how much you knew about their biology

"When I first studied them with one of my siblings back on Cybertron, since they were studying to be a scientist in the Council, I was surprised to see how their spinal system connected to their long Simmons-like tail."

🧪 Shockwave began to ask you to give him some mixtures of CNA and fossils, which began to bring you guys closer together as the days passed. And when the Predacons were created, they saw both you and Shockwave as their 'creators', as you gave them life

[n3ptoonz]

WOULD U BE DOWN TO WRITE BI-HAN IN AN ARRANGED MARRIAGE WITH THE DAUGHTER OF A GRANDMASTER FROM ANOTHER CLAN?

absolutely not are you cra- gunshots

'That Can Be Arranged'

Pairing: Bi Han/F!Reader

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 1 (2023)

Warnings/tags: None, angst if you squint, Bi Han sucks at feelings but it's all good, reader has an older brother, reader's father is a cryomancer, reader got jokes, Bi Han in love, sphinx has to stop writing after midnight, 3/4 proofread might be some typos in this mf

Word count: 2.5k+

Bi Han was to accept an arranged marriage to bring peace to the centuries long clan war between the Lin Kuei and Gwanji clan; both have Grandmasters that wield the power of cryomancy. Overwhelmed with stress and self doubt, he ran away to his favorite place to train and meditate and has been going there ever since before time ran out.

You were to be the one to get married in order to bring peace to the two clans. You didn't even know the name of the enemy clan due to your father favoring your older brother more your whole life. Overwhelmed with stress and being fed up with both of them constantly in your ear, you ran away to wander around and see what or who you could find.

You were the rebel between you and your brother. There's no surprise he's favored more, but it's mostly because he's older and has to carry on the title once your father passes. You kept questioning your father, asking why not just find him a wife? And it was always the same old "but war" "but this" "but that", and tried to instill you with fake confidence to believe you were the only way peace could be achieved.

It was a beautiful night with clear skies and shining stars. The world was quiet. The more you walked through the woods, the more you appreciated the outside before you had to be bound to the enemy clan's temple. You stopped in your tracks at the sound of what sounded like someone exercising. There were grunts and shouts only a fighter would have between each move. You quietly got closer, peeking behind a tree to see a tall, handsome man with a defined body under the traditional fighting attire he wore.

You just sat and watched him channel his energy into his punches and kicks. The way his muscles tensed when he wasn't getting a move right was fascinating. You were always sheltered since childhood, so finding another person on without your father's influence was the absolute highlight of your night.

He stopped for a moment, standing straight up and looking in your direction. He saw your shadow move right as you hid behind the tree.

"Can I help you?" he said. His voice was deep and raspy, and he asked that question like you just bothered him. He figured you weren't initially a threat due to the fact that he's usually just attacked by his enemies, while you hid. Also he could see a bit of your flared sleeve.

You peeked from behind the tree before fully stepping out, a sheepish smile on your face.

"Didn't mean to interrupt, I was just admiring the view. Looks like you could use a sparring partner."

You saw his brows furrow at your suggestion. Just who did you think you were? Thinking you could take on the Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei?!

"I am not some entertainment for you to watch. And I don't 'spar' with women-"

"-who could whoop your ass? I wouldn't either." you cut him off mid sentence and crossed your arms with a smirk. The only person you've ever sparred with was your brother, otherwise with one guard that you've been close with since a kid. So to take on an outsider was like a rush.

Whatever you were doing worked, cause now he was offended and wanted to put your pride in check.

"Alright," he said, taking a small weapon out his shirt when you put a hand up to decline. You took out your own blade and flipped it in between your fingers.

"May the best one win."

-

You two had been meeting up and sparring for about three weeks now, and with every encounter, you both had just talked more and more about yourselves. You talked about your life as a daughter of a stubborn father who favored your brother all your life, while Bi Han talked about his rift with his brother and the stresses of filling in his late father's position as head of his clan. Neither of you really thought to reveal your roles in your clans, afraid the other would be put off.

"I get married off next month." you said bluntly after you sat in silence. You both had been sitting together and stargazing in the grass. Honestly, you never thought he'd be down for something like this, but you certainly weren't going to complain. "So...I won't be able to come here anymore. I am to prepare to be bound to the enemy's temple and probably bear his children. Ugh, it's probably some old fuck--who I won't be fucking."

Bi Han wore a slight bit of a smile at how crass you were. You laughed it off, but you were dead serious. You looked over at him already looking at the side of your face.

"How our fates aligned like this, I am getting married tomorrow. Also an arranged marriage. I guess we both won't be coming out here anymore." he said, his voice slightly disappointed as he turned his eyes back to the sky.

"Really? I thought the men were still able to do as they please. It's what my brother says."

"He's not entirely wrong, but I am not that kind of man. I wouldn't be that kind of husband. Even though I don't know this woman and I don't know how long it'll be before I actually love her, I would still respect her in some way."

You could tell he was genuine in his response. He couldn't even look you in the eyes upon saying what he really felt. When you first met, he was cold but an odd hint of welcoming, even if you did come off as immature. He didn't want to admit it to you, but he was slowly falling for you. It was wrong, as he's literally about to get married to somebody else, but it's what his heart says.

"Wow..." you muttered, unable to stop looking at him even though he was focused on the stars. "Didn't think you'd be into that sort of thing."

"Marriage?"

"Love."

He looked down at the ground, resting his elbows on his elevated knees and sighing. "I may be cold and reserved, but I am also human. How I choose to express affection is usually the problem. It's why I don't focus on things like that."

You then looked up at the stars, fidgeting with your hands before speaking.

"...Is it wrong to fall in love before an arranged marriage?"

Bi Han's head raised, but he still didn't look at you. He then stood up and dusted off his clothes, choosing not to acknowledge your question.

"It's getting late."

Your heart sank a little as he said that, going back to his cold demeanor. You wanted to apologize if you made him uncomfortable, but like he said, he didn't focus on things like that. You just nodded stood next to him, extending your hand as a farewell.

"This is goodbye." you said, fighting back the urge to shed a single tear. These last three weeks had been the best time of your life, and it was all to dissipate all over again. As he looked at your hand, knowing this was a farewell, he too wanted to shed a tear. He just couldn't do it. He can't shake your hand. He's too afraid he'll end up vulnerable in front of someone he's only known for three weeks, and he hasn't cried since he was a child.

"You should get home." he promptly said, walking past you as he gathered his things and left. Feeling the wind hit the side of your face from how fast he took off made you want to sob and throw a fit. How could he be like this? Ah...remember, he just doesn't focus on things like this. You stood there as your hand just fell to your side, holding back a flood of tears that could flow at any moment.

After five seconds had passed, you turned around just to see that...he was gone.

-

"What?!" you exclaimed. It was 9 in the fucking morning and your father just let you know out of the blue that you were actually getting married today. You stood in his office now fully awake in your sleep attire and angry. Why would he decide now to tell you such a thing? Your brother tried to make sense of it while you just ignored him.

"Father, I am not ready!"

"Sure you are. It's just a 3 week difference, why are you so worked up at this hour?" he sat back in his chair so casually as your brother stood next to him. You got so worked up you stormed towards the door and knocked over some important looking books on a shelf.

"I'm running away!" you shouted, slamming the door behind you. This was beyond belief. He really loved keeping you out of the loop. Right before you were on your way, you saw a pair of gauntlets that your father was going to give to your brother...and they grant the power of cryomancy. Hell, what do you have to lose?

Unfortunately, the guards kept getting to you before you could escape a few times, locking you in your room until it was time. For a few hours all you could do was throw a tantrum and emptily threaten the guards lives.

Eventually, there came a knock at your door. You didn't answer, just sitting in the corner of your room with your face buried in your pillow. It was the same guard you grew up with. You thought aw damn, you couldn't lash out at him.

He simply offered you words of comfort and sat on the edge of your bed, letting you know your father wants you to be ready in 15 minutes. He even offered to help you pick your best outfit.

A long 15 minutes later, you cleaned yourself up and made yourself look presentable. Though, you still stepped out of your room with a scowl, glaring at the guards that were on standby. You slyly hid the braces under your flared sleeves. If you needed to use it, you wouldn't hesitate to. Who cares if you weren't trained to use them? You'll figure it out.

"You look lovely, miss. I know you don't think you're ready, but I trust that the Grandmaster didn't choose someone twice your age. Your mother was actually younger than him by 2 years, if that helps." he said, trying to cheer you up. The corner of your mouth lifted into a half smile, appreciating his efforts.

You escorted yourself to sit with your father and brother before the gates that opened up to the temple. The usual traditional practice had started, and you looked the most uninterested among the rest--even resting your head into your palm.

It was a rather nice day. How convenient that it wasn't snowing to all hell on a day you were pissed off.

The gates finally opened, and here came your supposed future husband. You rolled your eyes and looked away for a moment. As you refused to look at the man walking up to the throne, your father stood up and greeted him.

"Bi Han, Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei. My now...former rival. I welcome you to the Gwanji temple."

You froze in place. Did- Did you hear him right?

"Excuse my daughter, she is a little shy. I offer her to you as a gift of peace. We mustn't fight any longer, two cryomancy clans should stick together, not separate."

As your father rambled, you slowly looked over at the man. It was...really Bi Han. He is the man you were arranged to marry...and you were the woman he was arranged to marry today. No wonder your marriage was pushed back.

You quickly stood up and just stared at him. As his eyes fixed onto you, his gaze went from a slight shock to softening. He couldn't believe it himself. It was really you. He was arranged to marry the same woman he fell in love with in a span of 21 days.

"...but, to make this interesting, what do you say to a duel? You and my eldest son, for my daughter's hand?"

It's like you got water splashed into your face after a dream sequence. Did you hear him correctly? A duel?!

Your brother was the fiercest fighter you knew. You never could stand sparring or generally physically fighting him, he would always go low when he thought he was going to lose. Just what is he going to do with a cold Grandmaster who usually only has regard for himself?

"Seriously? For my hand? That's unnecessary, it was neither of our choi-"

"I accept."

Your eyes snapped to Bi Han, whose look of determination was back onto his face.

'I will not lose' he thought, chanting over and over in his head. He will earn your hand to prove he's worthy, even though he didn't need to. He couldn't lose this fight or you.

"Splendid. May the best one win." your father said, sitting back down and gesturing for you to follow. But you just stood there in awe. He was actually doing this.

"Sweetheart, I know you're excited, but let's sit for this. Who knows how long this'll go on for?" he motioned for a guard to push your chair in behind your knees. You decide to comply, truly curious as well.

It's been an hour. Both parties evenly matched and no telling who had the upper hand. However, you watched your brother with close attention. He hadn't done anything suspicious just yet...

...Spoke too soon.

As soon as Bi Han was gaining on him, he pulled a hidden weapon from his pocket, slicing Bi Han's cheek. You just sunk into your chair, in utter disbelief at the sight.

He did another sequence of dirty moves, and the next one was bound to be fatal. You knew this because he has already told you before, this wasn't going to end well for either side. At the next slash before his big move, you got up in fit of rage and used the braces to create a large wall between them two made completely of ice.

"Must you be so damn cowardice?!" you yelled. You turned to your father who had a look of pure confusion. "You raised a fool. And it wasn't me."

You ran down the stairs and over to Bi Han, who had a bunch of cuts on his face and arms.

"Are you alright?" you kneeled in front of him, who was on the ground in pain, but didn't want to make a big deal about it. He looked up at you with such love and respect in his eyes.

"I'm in love with you." he said, shocked at how blunt he was with his own feelings, but he didn't care.

"Thought you'd say that." you smiled. Standing up and looking through the ice, you helped him stand and held his face, mindful of the cuts splayed across his cheek and nose bridge.

"I do. You do. Boom, we're married." you said, kissing him without an ounce shame. Once you heard the clamoring on the other side of the wall, you quickly backed away and took his hand to make a run for it out of the gates. Now this, was now the most fun you've ever had in your life.

As you kept running, Bi Han caught up with you and couldn't help but process everything that just happened in the last two hours.

"Are we going to have a proper wedding?" he asked.

"That can be arranged."

[onskepa]

Hellooo, could i get a fic about Teylan and Solek, like in a platonic way? Solek may get annoyed by Teylan on the daily and not like his human stuff, but deep down has a soft spot for him, he knows he was the most manipulated by the Sky people at TAP that made him like he is now. So even tho he always complains about him, Teylan is like a little brother to him and will protect no matter what. So then one day finds out the way that if you mess with Teylan you got the wrath of Solek after you.

Ooooooooooooooh~!!! BROMANCE!!! That is all I can see!!! Enjoy darling!!

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

Little fangs, sharp glare

Trusting humans is one thing so’lek took forever to gain. After everything he has lost, it's odd to be friends with some. He lost his clan, his family, and those close to him. It is not easy to get over it, with sadness comes anger, and with anger comes hate. So’lek deeply hates humans, not all, but those who fall under the RDA name. 

He also understands the pain of losing everything, losing all that you have ever known. So when he heard of what was once a long dead clan, its members returning, some hope was restored in his heart. 

It was too late for so’lek, but maybe there is still a chance for the remaining sarentu.

Speaking of sarentu, the 4 were very interesting. Too human for his liking, if so’lek didn't know anymore better, he would have been fooled into thinking they were dreamwalkers. Of course he shouldn't blame them, they were taken very young, raised in metal walls, not a touch of nature by humans. When they were freed, three of them wanted to reconnect to their roots. How to be a real na’vi. 

There is one, however, who enjoys being human. 

Teylan, the youngest of the sarentu, was……different. 

Spoke, walked, behaved, and thought just like a human. 

Granted, he is the youngest and was far more easy to manipulate and be molded to the humans liking. Yet now that he is free, he fears literally everything. Prefers to stay inside the resistance building, chooses to play with old and new technology. Chatting with humans, and his sarentu friends. 

But with other na’vi? Not a chance. 

Even Teylan fears so’lek. 

So’lek wonders how will teylan continue to live if he hasn't even truly thrived? 

“No thank you, I am fine where I am,” teylan kindly rejects. 

With an annoyed sigh, so’lek looked at him straight in the eyes, something that makes teylan very nervous about. 

“Teylan, computers and radio technology isn't going to help you out there” so’lek reminds the youngest sarentu. His eyes looking down at him, not in an interior way, but more rather of trying to sway teylan. 

“A-as if I want to go out there, it's scary a-and there is a lot of danger. I'm fine, besides, I am contributing b-by helping with the tech. Pretty outdated some of this stuff is” teylan tries to make excuses. 

Fighting never was something teylan wanted to do. Even back in TAP, if there was anything teylan rebelled in, it be wielding weapons and/or fighting. Violence is like a virus he wishes to stay away from. 

“P-please sir, I don't want to touch a gun. Never will” 

Hearing this, so’lek was reminded of the three laws of Eywa, one of them was to never touch the metals. Was too late for him, but maybe, just maybe, it is not too late for teylan. The na’vi that is more out of Eywa’s reach.

For weeks so’lek observed teylan, how he is adjusting to things. If there is one word to describe teylan, it is weak. In more ways than just physical. His sarentu friends grow stronger, wiser, and open to the massive world while teylan remains reserved, shy, and hesitant. Traits of someone weak. Even more since Teylan is capable of being mentally vulnerable. 

Perhaps there is some method so’lek can use to help teylan get stronger. Brute force and harsh words worked with the others. 

Being “soft” isn't something so’lek can get used to.

So’lek is such a scary na’vi in teylan’s eyes. Deep voice, tall, muscular, and very very hateful towards humans. So’lek was teylan’s first exposure to native na’vi. A real na’vi. And his first impressions were not so great. Yes, so’lek was very dangerous in his own right but he wasn't wild or mindless like how Mercer told him. 

So’lek is very clever, thinks through his plans and comes up with excellent war strategies. 

Everything Mercer said, and even alma to an extent, were wrong. 

Yes there is danger everywhere, and if teylan had it his way, he would make a pillow fort and play with old gadgets. Yet so’lek persists for him to train how to wield weapons and fight. 

Teylans knows how to wield a weapon he just chooses not to. 

“Damn, useless earpiece” so’lek grunts in annoyance. His ear piece that helps him to communicate with others isn't functioning well. It is not like he can get another one, muchless a newer earpiece. He can only work with what he has. 

Taking it off, so’lek examines it, for something so small, its so complex to repair it. He could ask one of the humans to fix it but they are already busy as it is. To take their time away for something small seems inconvenient for anyone. 

“I c-can fix it…” 

Turning around, he see’s Teylan standing a bit distance from him. Extending his arm out, so’lek hands the ar piece to the sarentu. 

Teylan was quick to work in, “it's not useless” he mutters. 

So’lek tilts his head, observing teylan’s hands, his fingers be delicate to the tiny piece, using tiny tools to examine it. 

“It's old” so’lek says, seeing a small red wire being taken out. 

“Yes, but so is everything here. It's not so easy to get new equipment. So the best we can do is maintain it in good condition. We have the parts, we can make it last longer” teylan speaks while replacing the red wire with a yellow wire and putting the tiny pieces back together. 

Handing the earpiece back to so’lek, he adds “If there is a piece for it, we can mend it back together again” 

With that, teylan smiles and walks away to do other things. 

So’lek puts on the earpiece and stays a bit to let his words linger in his mind. 

Perhaps teylan is correct.

Teylan jumped from being startled by a large bag landing beside him. 

“Easy! Are you trying to scare me?” he asks the person behind the little stunt, which was none other than so’lek. 

He grins a bit, “look into those items, see if anything is useful” with that he leaves. 

Curious, Teylan opens the bag and gasps in surprise. 

It was full of new and fresh spare parts and technology! 

Teylan knew so’lek goes on raids to destroy any RDA base but he never guessed so’lek would also be stealing any possible resources that could be useful. And useful they were. 

So Teylan was quick to work with these new toys. 

“Better security cameras, scanners, newer radars, updated databases. Teylan you thought of everything, well done” anqa praises. This causes teylan to blush a bit. Making his tail sway side to side. It makes him feel good, to be useful. To contribute in the best way he can. 

Teylan was about to make his way somewhere else when nor pulled him aside. 

“Teylan! Come with me, I finally mastered archery! Come, I can show you” nor said rather excitedly, ready to drag him outside. But teylan pulled away, quickly feeling uncomfortable. 

“No thanks nor, Im fine here, besides there is still much to do” he tries to excuse. 

Nor clicks his tongue, shaking his head. 

“Teylan, you have to learn how to fight. I get it, no guns, and that is fine. Not every weapon is some form of a gun, like a bow and arrows, or spears. How will you survive out there? What if you are alone and can't defend yourself? Don't be a baby teylan, even so’lek is disappointed” 

That last part hurt teylan. 

“Come on, I can even teach you how to hunt” nor offers. 

“No, that is worse, I don't want to hurt animals” teylan argues softly. Unable to raise his voice against his dearest friend. 

“Then how will you eat? Eating on powdered foods and fruit? This is for you own good. I don't want you to be left behind in necessary skills” nor goes on. 

But before it could go further, another stepped into the conversation. 

“Nor, ri’nela is calling for you, saying it's urgent” so’lek speaks, letting his heavy gaze glare down at him. 

Nor nods, and leaves. 

So’lek turns around to see teylan almost ready to cry. 

“Am I a disappointment?” 

Together they stand outside of the base, admiring the natural beauty surrounding them. Neither being the first to speak for the first few minutes. 

“You are not a disappointment, Teylan” so’lek was the first to speak. Not really looking at the sarentu, just looking beyond the land. 

“If anything, you surprise me” 

Teylan looked over at so’lek, feeling confused by that, “how so?” 

“You are more quiet, shy and a mess of nerves but you are strong in your own right. You surprise me by how quick you work, clearly your strong suits is that of repairing things” 

Teylan looks down, playing with his tools that hang from his belt. 

“I just don't want to be useless….I hate being seen as extra baggage that everyone has to take care off….even to my friends” teylan confesses. 

Sighing, he goes on, so’lek hearing his words. 

“I don't like weapons. I don't like guns. I know you know that, nor knows that, everyone does. But I also don't want to hold any other dangerous items. I just hate…violence. I want things to be peaceful, I want all humans to be nice, not just to each other but to this world. Stupid thinking, I know. I don't even see myself as hurting anyone. Doesn't matter if it is human or na’vi, hurting people is wrong…” 

A few minutes of silence passed before So'lek spoke again. 

“Do you know the laws of Eywa?” he asks, looking over at the youngest sarentu. 

“Laws of Eywa, no, never. I didnt even know there is laws” teylan answers honestly. 

Chuckling a bit, so’lek shakes hsi head. Should have known the RDA keeps such information away from him. 

“Well, there are. Three, they are: You shall not set stone upon stone. Neither shall you turn the turning wheel. Nor use the metals of the ground” so’lek says while using his fingers to point out each law. 

“Do you know what they mean?” he asks. 

“No, they seem confusing” teylan answers. 

“They mean you shall not use metal or stone materials. Something humans use, like making this base. As well as is it forbidden to dig up the natural metals from the ground” 

Teylan looks down at the ground, remembering the lessons alma taught him many years ago. 

“They sound simple…but I bet it is hard” 

So’lek nods, “for humans yes, but you oddly follow the three laws without even knowing. Which it is a good thing”

He places his hand on teylan’s hat, taking it off. 

“Hey, give it back” teylan tries to reach for his hat, but so’lek chuckles, keeping it away from his reach. 

“Easy, I won't take it away” 

Teylan huffs but lets it slide. 

“You know teylan, despite what nor tells you, you are strong in your own way. Yes, you may not know how to fight but you know how to make this place have a better chance in stance. You are clever and very smart, quick thinking in how to fix or improve things” so’lek praises. 

Teylan never knew he would hear such words from the mighty warrior.  

So’lek places the hat back on teylan’s head, “I will be strong for you young one so don't listen to what your friend tells you” 

The doors open to show the two men walking back inside the base, 

Nor sees teylan and tries to persist again. 

“Teylan, there you are! I was thinking, instead of archery why not using a spear? They are incredibly sharp and-” 

“Actually nor, I don't want to hear any more about weapons in general. I don't like it, so please stop telling me what to do when I an not comfortable with it” teylan says firmly in his voice, looking hard at nor. 

Nor was ready to scoff when he saw so’lek behind teylan. 

His glare piercing and deadly. 

“Alright teylan, I won't do it again” nor confirms, quickly walking away. 

Teylan sighs and smiles widely, turning around to see so’lek give a soft expression. 

“It worked! He stopped!” teylan grins happily. 

“See? Next time if he or anyone persists, just show your fangs at them, they will know better than to push you” so’lek says as he ruffle’s the young one’s hair. 

aaaaaaaaaaaaaand that is all for this one! Hope you all like it! Until next time! see ya!

[libby-for-life]

So, I got an idea for a request, an Au with Adam as Demeter, the Greek G̶o̶d̶d̶e̶s̶s̶ God of agriculture.

So this takes place right after the whole Lucifer and Lilith Incident. Adam is left reeling from the betrayal of his first friend (yeah "friend") and his other half. The angels tell him that they will make him a new companion, but he doesn't want a replacement, he wonders what he did to deserve them both leaving him (developing those abandonment issues already, I see).

But with a sudden great and mighty crack of thunder and lightning, Adam disappears from Eden and appears in Mount Orthys. He is found by Rhea, who is tired of all her kids haven been eaten by her husband Kronos and decided to take him in, before being found out and promptly being eaten whole, joining the others (except Demeter because she doesn't exist and is replaced by Adam) in Kronos stomach even though he's not thier sibling.

Back in Eden, the entirety of Heaven is freaking out because the first man is just gone. He's nowhere in Eden. He just disappeared under their noses. Once they

calm down, decide since they already made Eve as a replacement for Lilith, they can just make a replacement for Adam. Using Eve's rib, they create Steve and erase Adam and Lilith from history, their titles of first man and woman now belonging to Eve and Steve.

When Lucifer breaks into Eden, he succeeds convincing Eve to bite the apple, but when he tells her to give it to Adam as well (definitely not because he's a yandere for him and is his top priority), Eve asks who Adam is.

Eve: Adam? Who is that?

Lucifer: ...Adam? You know the first man??

Eve: You mean my husband Steve! He's the first man, not whoever this 'Adam' is

Lucifer:....what.

*I've already thought of more scenarios with this Au, but this is already pretty long, so i'll stop it here

Now, you kinda need to give me more, but this is beautiful. I love the idea of Adam becoming a God. Rhea slowly feeds him a special salve that turns him immortal. And while technically he is Adam, the god of agriculture and farming. He also had another name that he went by. The Reaper. It's where the scythe originated from. He reaps the fields and it's up to him on whether you have plentiful food or a drought that year.

He came across Persephone and immediately adopted her as his own once he saw how innocent she was to the world. She reminded him so much of Lucifer of someone he once knew but he couldn't put his finger on it.

She was creative with Spring. Such beautiful flowers came from her. The angels may have may have made the earth, but the gods were what kept it going. Kept it from dying. The angels in Heaven thought that they did a good job making the world and the universe but it was Adam's family that kept it from perishing. He had a family in the gods. They treated Adam as one of their own.

Until one day, Persephone gets kidnapped and taken to Hell. Adam is on a war path. He will find his daughter and the gods are backing him up.

The entirety of Hell shakes and splits open as twelve-foot-tall people radiating power and light storm in, all wielding weapons that, despite not being angelic weapons, are powerful enough to kill sinners.

They will find Persephone.

Meanwhile, Lucifer soon catches wind of these godly beings and goes to confront them. He sees Adam for the first time since the dawn of Eden and nearly has a heart attack. Adam. The first man. He was back.

[shuttershocky]

Something I've been wondering for a while now, what is the thematic meaning of Shiro's "Who says a copy can't surpass the original?"

Exactly what it says on the tin.

Gilgamesh calls Archer a Faker for the exact same reason Archer tries to kill Shirou: they do not have any individuality, much less the soul of a hero, to begin with. Their existence is as a shadow of someone else.

"Emiya Shirou" does not truly exist as a person in Fate/Stay Night. Survivor's guilt and intense PTSD has hollowed him out to see himself as a tool for other people and not as a person. All of his skills like cooking, cleaning, and repairing were learned to serve others. He has no wish but to fulfill someone else's (Kiritsugu's) dream, and his ideals are borrowed from that same person. He has no real personal goals or ambitions (he tells Taiga he wants to be a superhero), and places no value at all on his own life, which is why his actions in the 5th Holy Grail War are downright suicidal.

Even when the visual novel reveals an intelligent, sarcastic, highly analytical voice inside Shirou, all of that goes flying out the window upon seeing someone's injury triggering his PTSD, creating that vacant stare and suicidal, nonsensical rationality that has had anime-onlies calling Shirou a vapid idiot for almost 20 years.

This is why the nature of the spell Unlimited Blade Works is important to understanding his character. As a rule, projection magecraft only ever copies the "image" of a weapon. It is seen as a functionally useless branch of magecraft, as a projected sword cannot copy the strength and durability of the original, much less replicate its unique powers.

But Unlimited Blade Works does. While its projections aren't perfect copies, they are able to replicate the unique powers of the original and at least a portion of their strength, turning Projection from a useless magic trick into an incredibly powerful ability.

This is because Unlimited Blade Works is a reality marble, which is a spell that takes the form of a person's internal world AKA their personhood, their self-meaning, what-have-you. On a story level, this means that Shirou's deep psychological issues which led to him de-personing himself and seeing himself as a weapon gave him an extraordinary understanding of the existence of a weapon, meaning that since this guy only ever thought of himself as a sword, when he projects a sword he doesn't just create the image of a sword, he creates a real one.

On a thematic level however, Unlimited Blade Works symbolizes how Shirou reacts to the statement that all he is, is a copycat. Even if his weapons, just like his ideals, are borrowed, the power that his blades wield is very real, just like how those copied ideals hold true meaning to him. He WILL be a hero, even if it's only chasing after the image of a true hero, or even if he only is a hero for one person.

So when Fate/Stay Night asks "who says a copy can't surpass the original?', it's asking if authenticity matters vs human effort. If a painter that makes a living by forgery creates such an immaculate copy of the masterworks that it evokes the same power as the original, does that not make the forger a master as well? If some no name ghost wields the most famous sword in the world with the ferocity and skill of the sword's equally famous owner, does that not make the ghost a swordsman of renown as well?

In that case, if you truly want to test the copy's worth, it would be vs the original, which is why in the route Unlimited Blade Works, Shirou fights Gilgamesh, the original hero and the true owner of all weapons of renown in the world, who claims every legendary name in history as mere thieves to his treasury.

This is also why Shirou defeats Gilgamesh, despite being weaker, less skilled, and a mere human vs a heroic spirit. Shirou may have been a copy, but the most original of all originals didn't want victory just as badly as the copy did, otherwise he would have taken the threat seriously enough to use Ea and win immediately. He took his natural superiority (and thus, the fight) for granted, did not put in anything but the minimum effort, and then got surprised that the other guy who worked for every advantage landed a critical hit on him.

That's when Gilgamesh says "I will admit, in this moment, you are powerful"