#and a lot of other things are almost complete.

[scarletcomalies]

Hear. Me. Out! Wanda has been your best friend for almost ten years now, meaning you could trust her to chat about anything, without restricting yourself by prudeness or filters. But that trust went too far one day.

Word count: 1,119

Warnings: 18+ content, guided masturbation through phone call, kind of innocent and inexperienced reader.

A/N: I promise I'm NOT procrastinating this story, you'll have it sooner than you think, but, well, college... 💔

It was a big step, considering that you failed to enjoy every time you explored yourself with your fingers alone. As much as you tried to play music, lie down, and imagine exciting scenes, you ended up frustrated because it wasn't enough. So you opted to buy a little help. Maybe this way you would be able to explore your tastes and to please yourself properly.

Your best friend, Wanda, had recommended an online site. It had all kinds of artefacts, many of which you didn't know existed, or considered too potent a level for a newbie like you. So you went with the safest option; a simple ten centimeter vibrator, with three levels of intensity.

And nothing...

You felt the tingle of the vibration inside you, but nothing built up. It was just a pleasurable sensation that led to nothing.

You had sent a message to Wanda, telling her that you had already received it, and just when you turned off the toy and put it aside, your phone notified a message from the redhead, where she asked you to tell her about your experience.

"It's useless, Wanda!" You answered, such a simple message but all your frustration could be transmitted in this one.

"What do you mean it's useless?" She replied.

"Maybe I'm anorgasmic or something, because I can't finish. I didn't feel it helped me."

You were perplexed when your phone screen displayed her name, indicating that you were receiving a call. This was unusual of her, but you didn't hesitate to answer.

"Honey," she let out a giggle, as soon as you picked up. "What exactly are you doing?"

"Well, when I feel needy, no matter how much I stimulate myself, I don't orgasm. Not even with the toy. It's horrible," you answered honestly.

These kind of talks were frequent between you, and that was something you loved about your friendship. No judgments, no prejudice, much less in the face of topics that, at the end of the day, were completely normal.

"Yeah, but what did you do with the vibrator?" She inquired.

"Well, I put it inside, the usual," you replied matter-of-factly. You didn't understand why other girls did get to feel something when they had something in there, and you didn't. Why you were more complex about everything?

"Just like that?" She exclaimed, and at your confirmation, she let out another laugh. "No, darling, you have to tease yourself, make yourself desperate for your own touch."

"And how do I even do that?" you asked curiously, but also with a hint of relief. She seemed to have the solution to your problem.

"It's complicated, do you want to try it now? I'll guide you through every step," she proposed.

The thought of hearing her voice guiding you, that she would be listening to you as you pleasured yourself, made the anticipation take over, again initiating that feeling that was begging to be satisfied.

When you thought of Wanda, or when you spent many hours together with her, that feeling came no matter how hard you tried to ignore it. It was no surprise when you realized that this was not something usual and that you definitely felt attraction towards her.

But you didn't want to ruin the friendship you treasured so much.

"No, that would be weird," you replied, feigning aversion to such a thing, when really, that was all you needed.

"Oh, come on!" Wanda exclaimed. "It wouldn't. I'd be helping you get to know yourself, please yourself. I won't even see you."

You sighed softly in resignation. She was right, maybe a lot of friends have given each other advice like that.

"Okay, fine," you agreed. "What do I do?"

Wanda was glad you couldn't see her smile of victory when you agreed, or else, she would've also given herself away.

"First, spread your legs, and place the tip of the vibrator on your clit," she instructed you.

You did as she asked, and no sooner had you pressed, when you felt an electric current run through your body in a matter of a fraction of a second.

"Oh, shit!" You exclaimed, withdrawing it as if by reflex.

"What do you feel?" She inquired curiously. She was aware such a cute little thing like you wouldn't be able to take it first time. But that was what she was there for.

"Weird, like a swift current!"

"Exactly! Please try to place it again, and little by little, apply pressure," she replied. "At your pace, there is no rush, darling," she purred, making your core throb in desperation at her raspy voice calling you that pet name.

Again, you did as she asked.

The intense vibration made all the nerve endings in that area react deliciously to the stimulus, and again, it sent that current through your body.

You let out a little murmur of pleasure, feeling yourself lose control over your body. Your back arched, your eyes closed, and your free hand fisted your sheets in an attempt to keep you grounded and resistant.

"Good girl, apply more pressure for me," Wanda added, noting from your murmurs that you were becoming familiar with the sensation.

Applying a little more pressure caused you to emanate your first moan since forever. That snapped you out of your trance briefly, and you realized you moaned with your friend on the other end of the phone.

"I'm sorry," you apologized, beginning to feel your cheeks heat up.

"None of that," she countered. "Don't hold back, let me hear you."

In a matter of minutes, you alone learned to listen to your body. You explored different areas and found your most sensitive spots. You were so focused on not leaving a single inch untouched, that you even forgot that Wanda was listening to the mess of moans, whimpers, and murmurs of her name that you were letting out.

"Mmm, Wanda!" They became more audible tones, signaling that you were close. There was too much to process, but Wanda decided to quiet her thoughts and allow herself to be delighted by the wonderful sounds you were making.

Hearing you cum for the first time was the most beautiful of all, by far.

A scream of pleasure too desperate, even animalistic, for your own good. Your so innocent set could not withstand that longing finally reaching its highest exponent, after so much stagnation. She was even surprised your little lungs allowed you to scream like that.

Wanda provoked all that in you, without having touched you... yet. But she made up her mind that it would change.

"Start over, but don't you dare cum," she commanded you. "I'm coming over in ten," she established, before hanging out.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Guardian Angel

CW: Stalking, people breaking into your apartment (Arkham Knight and others), people brushing off an obvious issue, and violence. Be warned, there are no angels in Gotham. ~2.2k words

You have a stalker. Probably. Maybe. If you do, they're so good at covering their tracks that you're starting to believe you're just paranoid.

But it's the odd events, the trinkets moved slightly out of place, that have you checking over your shoulder.

There wasn't even any evidence at first. Your day had been completely normal. All you were doing was cooking dinner, when your nerves went on end, and goosebumps rose on your skin. The feeling of being watched, of being prey set in.

It didn't make sense, didn't have a reason, but you closed your curtains and triple checked your locks nonetheless. (The bat you keep by your bed slept next to you that night)

You would have forgotten about the incident entirely if, a week later, the same feeling crept up your spine while you walked home. You'd never walked faster to get to your building. You'd practically sprinted up the stairs to your apartment, and slammed to the door behind you.

Even within your home, it took almost the whole night for the feeling to fade.

Two times could be a coincidence, but then things started getting stranger.

You could have sworn you left your keys on the counter the night before, so why, why did you find them on the coffee table?

It makes you uneasy, almost sick, but you're already late to work. So you do the only thing you can, you brush it off.

Until it happens. A thing you can't brush off.

You knew you had used the last of the sugar yesterday. Knew it because you had made a mental note to pick some up the next time you went to the store.

But there's sugar. It's not a lot. Just enough to get you through a few days. Enough to make you think you might have just missed the last of it.

You know you're right. You know you were out of sugar and even if your coworkers laugh and tell you to get more sleep, that having an angel that refills your sugar can't be that bad, you know someone's been in your apartment.

You set traps, set cameras, get your locks changed, take note of everything. You don't get any evidence.

But you notice that your window doesn't squeak anymore when you open it. Your shower doesn't rattle when you go to start it. Your oven actually heats up to the temperature you set it to.

It's been like this for months now. And you're starting to believe that Gotham does have its own set of angels that go around trying to make your life a little easier.

That is until, you meet him.

You'd been unlucky. Gotten grabbed and dragged into the alley by your apartment by some haggard looking man waving a gun. It wasn't the first time you'd been mugged in Gotham, and you doubted it would be the last.

You had reluctantly pulled your wallet and phone out of your pockets and handed them off when an armored-clad person dropped between the gun and you.

At first, it was a relief. Being saved by Batman or Nightwing is practically a rite of passage in Gotham.

But then you watched the would-be mugger hit the ground with a sickening crunch of his arm. Then you watched your savior turn to face you, and you knew it was him.

You didn't have an explanation, you didn't have proof. You'd never even seen a glimpse of the helmet that hid his face before. But you knew. He's the one that's been following you. He's the one that's been in your home.

No amount of good deeds can overshadow how violating it feels, to know he's been watching you, observing you, doing things for you. You instinctively step back.

He only matches the distance you tried to create with a step of his own.

"Who are you? What do you want," You snap, sounding braver than you feel.

He doesn't answer at first, just tilts his head like he's studying you. You think it might be because he's never seen you think close before.

"I saved you," he says instead, completely avoiding your question. You wonder if he's expecting to be treated like a hero, if he's looking for your praise. It makes your stomach churn.

"You've been following you. You're the one who's been in my apartment," You protest, eyes darting.

You half expect someone to come help you. With the way he's dressed, with how he's carrying himself, he has to be some kind of new villian you missed on the news.

He straightens out at your accusation, "Have I?"

You almost falter, almost do chalk it up to paranoia, but you just knew. Every fiber of your being knows, "Yes," You breathe out instead, "You have."

He nods slowly, then turns his back to you. A part of you wants to run, to try and escape and scream and get as far away from the man who feels like he could make you disappear without a trace.

He bends down and scoops up your phone and wallet before turning back to you. You freeze when he walks closer, each step steady and measured, then extends your belongings to you. Your hand shakes when you snatch at them.

You half expect him to yank them away, to make you beg, but he doesn't. He only keeps his grip tight on them, forcing you to be connected while you tug helpless at your things.

He watches you with his head slightly cocked before speaking again, "And if I have?"

He's easy, robotic cadence makes your blood grow cold, "Then you should stop," You retort, voice as cold as your veins.

"And if I won't," he prompts, finally releasing his hold on your things.

"I'll go to the police," You threaten, stuffing your wallet and phone back into your pockets.

"They can't help you," he warns. It makes you uneasy, that he makes no attempt to keep space between you. Even if his body language doesn't seem dangerous, everything else about him does.

"They can contact Batman," You try instead.

He laughs. It sounds humorless, empty, "He can't help you either."

You lose your nerve then, when he pats your cheek, and the guns holstered to his side seem to glint at you. "Get home," he tells you, and it makes you feel like you're some kind of pet.

And then he's gone, leaving you to an alley empty of anything, save for you and the mugger crumpled to the ground. All you can do is go home. Sleep doesn't come for you that night.

He's sloppy, now that he knows you know. You can tell it's on purpose.

Flashes of glowing blue outside your window, your things carelessly shifted about your apartment, the broken fan that hasn't worked since you moved in left on and spinning when you come home from work.

The only place he hasn't seemed to touch is your bedroom. You're not sure if it's because he's showing some slightest form of respect or if he's simply too good at hiding his tracks for you to notice.

Both options make you feel anxious, and you constantly comb over your things for proof of his presence.

You rack your brain over it, lose sleep over it, but you can't come up with one idea of who he is and why he's doing this.

There's nothing on him in the news, nothing on the internet, not even a whisper on the streets.

It feels like it's all one big, sick game to him when your favorite flowers start showing up at your door, when your gas tank fills itself.

When you tell your coworkers, in a near panic, about your rent being mysteriously paid, they tell you it's harmless, it's kind of sweet, really.

Shouldn't you just be grateful that someone's doing all that for you? Shouldn't you be thankful to have an angel looking out for you in this city?

But you know it's not harmless. You know he's capable of so much more. You know he's no angel.

The sound of the mugger's arm snapping still haunts you.

But you don't know what to do. You're stuck, on edge, and slowly coming to terms with having to live like this forever.

That is, until your bad luck seems to get even worse. You were in your pajamas, already half asleep as you're lounging on your couch, when your world gets thrown into chaos.

There's a click in your apartment door's lock, and you have the terrifying realization that tonight's the one night you'd forgotten to throw the deadbolt.

"I told ya I could get the keys to this floor. And barely anybody lives in this building afta what happen ta Murphy," the heavy Gotham accent fills your apartment and three men file into your living room like they own it.

They freeze when they see you, and you don't hesitate to sprint for your fire escape.

You've just managed to throw your window open when one of them grabs you around the middle and hauls you back, throwing you to the floor. Your head knocks against the ground, and everything spins.

You think you whimper as they start bickering. "You said no one would be here!"

"They weren't supposed ta be! It's all supposed ta be empty," one of them snaps back. It only makes your head pound and your vision swim.

You try to push yourself off the floor, but a boot lands at the center of your back and forces you back to the ground, "We have to kill them."

Murmurs of reluctance fill the room, and for a second, you think you'll get to live.

"They saw our faces," You hear the telltale sound of a gun clicking off its safety, "I'll do it."

You flinch with the shot sounds, but no more pain comes. The weight comes off your back, and a body collapses to the floor next to you.

You lift your head just enough to see a familiar blur of blue charge at the remaining two men.

It's not so much of a fight as it is an execution. It's a struggle to keep your eyes open, but anything you can't see you can hear.

There's no mercy in his actions, all wrath and fury, and you want to laugh because, in a way, he is your guardian angel. An avenging angel, pummeling the people who threatened you into something unrecognizable.

You're sure how long it lasts, how long you hear his fists connect to their flesh. But eventually, your apartment goes quiet. The sound of fabric shuffling reaches your ears, and calloused hands carefully help you move until you're sitting up.

Warm palms press to your face you realize he's taken his gloves off. You force your eyes to open, morbidly curious if he's removed his helmet, too. You're not sure why you're disappointed he hasn't.

"Saved me again," You mumble, words almost slurring.

"You're not safe here," he says softly, and his thumb runs over your cheek like he's trying to comfort you.

"They didn't think anyone lived here," You supply, but he apparently doesn't find that very reassuring.

"Let's get you out here," he says instead, and you blame it on your head injury for being impressed at how he doesn't show any signs of struggling when he picks you up and cradles you to his chest.

"Don't have anywhere to go," you say weakly, mentally trying to do the math on how much a safe hotel would cost at this time of night.

The moonlight seems to give his helmet an odd shine as you stare hazily at him. It almost looks like a halo.

"I have a place," he tells you, already carrying you out of your apartment window.

That snaps you out of your thoughts. It makes you frown, even in your dazed state, you know you don't want to go with him. That even with the trick of the light, he's no angel.

You start to squirm, "No– no, wait–"

"You need somewhere safe to recover," he says, and he doesn't seem to notice your fidgeting. Your heart leaps to your throat, at how securely he's holding you. With anyone else, it would have felt like a promise of protection.

"I don't trust you, you're not safe," You stumble out, head growing heavy with each step he takes from your apartment.

"No one's safe. But I don't have any plans on hurting you," he murmurs, seemingly more occupied with getting you to wherever he's planning to take you.

"But you could," You exhale out, and your voice sounds weak even to yourself.

That makes him pause, and his helmet tips as if he's focusing on you, "Maybe, but I wouldn't like it."

You want to argue more, demand he set you down. But your brain feels so foggy, and you're so tired and drained that your head just kind of finds itself on his shoulder.

"You can sleep," he says, and your eyes fall shut at how soft he sounds, "I'll keep watch."

You really do want to protest, but his shoulder is surprisingly comfortable. You can't help but think, as you drift off, that your angel might have fallen far lower than you can handle.

[sturnlsstuff]

BIRTHDAY BOY | mean!chris x fem!reader

— warnings: smut, mdni, dom!chris, sub!reader, mentions of alcohol, cursing, pet names (slut, bitch, whore, ma, sweetheart, etc.), p in v, oral (m receiving), rough unprotected sex, dirty talking + more...

— summary: you're at the triplets' birthday party. you've been hanging around matt all evening, which is starting to irritate chris. he doesn't like you, but the way you're all over his brother is getting on his nerves, so he decides to put you in your place.

~~~~

ever since you entered the triplets' house, chris's eyes were only on you. he didn't want it, you were annoying. he never really liked you and you knew it but still, when you wished his brothers a happy birthday, giving them a hug and gifts, you gave chris some of your attention too, by having a small gift for him as well even though you never really interacted before. he couldn't help but be a bit surprised, muttering a quiet "thank you", and you were sure this would be the only time the two of you interacted that night. you were nick's and matt's bestfriend, not his.

once you turned around, his eyes roamed all over your body, noticing how slutty you were dressed. a short black dress that fits your body, perfectly emphasizing your curves, barely covering your ass. your long black hair falling in waves down your back. god, you were attractive, he couldn't deny it.

the party was getting more and more fun as the hours were passing. chris was having fun, there's a lot of drinking involved, but his attention still goes back to you every now and then, when he notices you in the crowd of people in his living room. he sees you with matt most of the time. it's normal, you two are friends, but today something about it doesn't sit right with him. maybe the fact that when you dance with his brother, your ass brushes against his crotch too much for his liking. or that you were practically all over matt almost leaning against him, when he spotted you two in the kitchen taking shots. something about this just kept pissing him off.

however, chris tries to distract himself with other girls, they clung to him as usual, each of them wanted to be today's chosen one that he would take to his room. yet still his mind kept going back to you and he couldn't understand why. he didn't like you. you were arrogant, always making smartass little comments with your filthy mouth, he just couldn't stand you. then why did he feel this possessive feeling fill him, when he saw you whispering something into matt's ear, both of you sitting close to each other on the couch with your hand on his thigh? it could've been nothing, matt looked totally casual, but it just annoyed chris for some reason. he wanted you to whisper things to his ear, to touch him. he wanted to be the one who would make you cry from pleasure tonight. even if he was fully aware that matt had no interest in you. he didn't really understand why he was feeling that way, but it was making him sick.

totally ignoring the blonde haired girl who was practically glued to his side, chris pushed her off of him once he spotted you sneaking out of the living room. he took one last sip of his drink, throwing the red plastic cup aside, his eyes never leaving your figure as he followed you.

he found you knocking on the bathroom door, trying to get inside and yelling that you just have to pee, but the person who occupied the bathroom had no intention of leaving, so you just sighed annoyed, deciding to wait.

chris leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, literally eye-fucking you before he decided to speak up.

"havin' troubles here?" he couldn't hold back the little smirk that appeared on his lips, when you suddenly turned around and noticed him. you were a little tipsy, he didn't miss the way you looked a little surprised that he just spoke to you, but then you just checked him out being completely unaware of this. that made chris clench his jaw a little.

"it's fine just... they don't want to leave this fucking bathroom." you sigh once again, kicking the bathroom door with the back of your shoe, but the person inside just yelled to fuck off.

that's when an idea appeared in his head. he looked you up and down, your dress being a little bit rolled up from the constant dancing, making his thoughts go wild. "there's bathroom downstairs, you can use it."

you raise your eyebrows a little bit. "yeah?"

"mhmm, i can take ya there, c'mon." his eyes lazily roam over your poorly covered body again, which doesn't go unnoticed by you. you are hesitant, but the pressure in your bladder is building and you just have to pee.

once you nod, chris's smirk widen a little as he shows you to go first. he's right behind you while you both go downstairs, his eyes shamelessly glued to your ass while you walk, his pants growing a bit tighter with every second, but he ignores it for now.

he opens the door to his room, letting you in so you do. you were never in chris's room before so you can't help your curiosity and quickly looks around. that's why it's unnoticed by you when he locks the door behind you both.

"there." he points at the another door. you nod and a moment later, you're in his bathroom finally being able to pee.

chris runs his tongue over his teeth, adjusting the backwards hat on his head as he thinks. he had no idea what and why he was doing this, but he always could blame it on the alcohol later, right? he sits down on his chair at the desk, waiting for you and when you finally leave his bathroom, he can't help but smirk a little bit. you come back to the room, adjusting your dress until your eyes spots him. he looked nice today, wearing his camo pants and a black shirt. pretty casual, but it fitted him so well. your attention always was on the bracelet he was wearing on his wrist, it was making you think of wild things you would never say out loud.

"thanks." you mutter, ready to leave his room, but his voice stops you.

"you into matt, huh?" his voice was dripping with irony, almost as if he was making fun of you. you stop in the middle of the room, turning to face him, seeing him sitting with his legs spread and his head slightly tilted to the side, a smirk playing on his lips as his eyes scan your body. it made you flustered a little bit, but you quickly composed yourself.

"what?" you frown, not really understanding his question. matt was only your bestfriend, he should know this.

"y'heard me. bein' all over my brother like a little slut. this was gonna be your birthday gift for him, huh? y'know, not only he's the birthday boy here."

your eyes widen with surprise, even if you had some little arguments with him in the past, he never talked to you so disrespectful. it made your blood boil. "excuse me?"

"oh c'mon, sweetheart, dont gimme this act now, when all night you jus' waited for the right moment to give matt some head."

he stands up walking towards you with his hands in his pockets. he wasn't thinking straight, the mix of alcohol and the need he felt for you all evening made him want to do something he had fantasized about before for a few times, but never thought he would do. at the end of the day you were annoying, he didn't like you. it didn't change the fact he found you hot.

"you're a fucking dick." you say with disbelief, turning around to leave his room when suddenly in one quick movement, he grabs your jaw, forcing you to look at him and pushes you against the door. a surprised gasp escapes you when his body presses against yours, and you can feel his hardness brushing against your thigh.

"say that again, i dare you." his voice was harsh, he was looking down at you with his blue eyes full of hatred, but with a glimpse of something else you couldn't exactly name. you swallow, adrenaline pulsing in your veins and after a moment of silence, you speak up.

"you're a dick, chris." you repeat and just after the look on his face, the regret filled up your body almost immediately.

he clicks his tongue against the inside of his cheek, looking away for a second and a low sarcastic chuckle leaves his lips. you feel your heart speeding up when he looks back at you, his eyes darken. you got a little bit scared, it was noticeable in your expression, but you also felt this familiar heat growing between your legs, making you a little confused. he was pissed off and it made him even hotter, making you go a little crazy.

"yeah? y'wanna act like a bitch? then imma treat you like one." he lets go of your jaw, moving away from you and unbuckling his belt. "on your knees."

you blink a few times, watching his movements and when you realize what he's doing, your breath quickens. "w-what?"

"i said get on your knees. unless you wanna play naughty and piss me off more." he gives you a look, unzipping his pants. he wasn't really sure if you will listen to him, or just call him a freak and want to leave. he had this feeling in his chest you will give in though, and it came true when you hesitatingly moved down, your bare knees meeting his cold floor.

a smirk appears on his lips once again when he looks down at you, pulling his pants and boxers down to his ankles. his cock splits out smacking his stomach and you look at him with wide eyes, swallowing. he was leaking with precum, definitely bigger than you would've expected and that sent vibrations straight to your core, making your panties wet. you would lie if you say you've never thought about this before, in the back of your mind there always were some dirty thoughts about chris, whenever you were hanging out with his brothers and he was there too. something about him was just making you going insane, yet you never ever admitted these thoughts to anyone, since chris also not really liked you and you didn't want to embarrass yourself.

"open up f'me." seeing you from this angle was like his deepest fantasies coming true, his dick hardening even more just by the view of you being on your knees, looking up at him with those doe eyes. your mind going blank, neither of you cared about the party upstairs as you obediently opened your mouth. "good... now stick out that tongue, baby."

you do as he says, he guides his cock on your tongue, grinning. "yeaaah, jus' like that—"

he traces your upper lip with his tip before in one sudden movement he eases himself into your mouth, not even giving you any time to adjust to his size when he starts moving his hips, his cock hitting the back of your throat. you moan, fighting your gag reflex, your eyes filling with tears.

"you wanted him to fuck you, huh? dressed so slutty for him?" chris asks, brushing your hair out of your face and gathering them into a messy ponytail. gripping it tightly, his thrusts gets more aggressive, as you close your eyes wanting to deny whatever he's saying, but not being able to. "look at you. so fuckin' pathetic. thought you'd suck my brother's dick tonight, hm?"

you take all of him, his hips picking up the pace as his grip on your hair tightens, making you whine against him. "open your pretty eyes, ma..— mhhh, fuckk...— wanna see ya lookin' at me ruining those smartass mouth of yours..."

your pussy clenches around air as soon as you open your eyes, met with his stare. one tear running down your cheek as you match chris's pace and starts moving your head, wanting to give him so much pleasure as you could. he was so rude, but yet it was turning you on more than it should.

"mmm, y'like that—? shiit... y'like being used? like the fuckin' whore you are? oh fuck—"

he keeps thrusting into your mouth, his lips slightly opened as low groans escaping him, the way your mouth felt around his cock made his control slipping away. you put your hands on his hips, tongue flattening against his length, cheeks hollowed, making him curse under his breath and his hips stuttering.

"fuck— you s'good at this... can be a good girl when y'want, hm? oh— shit—" he hisses, pulling onto your hair harder. the moan that escapes you sending vibrations against him. the whole time you both kept the eye contact, he was sure you could send him over the edge just with your mouth, but he craved more. "suckin' my dick so good— mhm, fuck— but that's... enough...." one last hard thrust, before his movements stops and he pulls out of you with a pop sound. breathless, you look at him confused, saliva dripping down your chin.

"stand up." he says letting go of your hair. this time you don't have to hear it twice, immediately getting up. chris grabs your hips, making you turn around and bends you over his desk, with your chest pressed against it.

your pussy pulsing and begging for some kind of relief, as you feel chris pressing against your back and whispering into your ear. "you look so hot in this dress, ma. want me to fuck you in it?"

he was fully aware there was no need to ask, it was obvious, but he wanted to hear you say it. his hand already traveling up your inner thigh, making you shiver. you nod, wanting him to touch you so badly. "you either using your words or gettin' nothin', honey."

his tone mocking you, almost as if it was funny to him what state he had gotten you into. it was boosting his ego. he runs his middle finger over your wet panties, making you whine in response.

"so soaked and i ain't even touched you yet."

"i— i need you to..." you mutter, your cheek pressed against his desk as you feel him moving, not towering over you anymore.

"y'need me to what exactly?" he asks sarcastically, rolling your dress up to the level of your hips, your ass on full display for him now. he looks down, squeezing your butt with his hands as he smirks. you could literally feel his hard dick pressing against your inner thigh.

"fuck me." you pathetically whine, moving your hips back. a low chuckle leaving his lips, he pulls your underwear down to your knees and runs his tip over your wet folds, stealing a whimper from you.

"had no idea y'such a slut before." he spreads your legs a bit with his own, lining his cock against your dripping pussy and with one sudden movement entering you, your saliva from sucking his dick previously and his precum acting as lube. once again, not giving you any time he starts moving his hips. slowly but hard, making sure you feel him deep. "could've told me sooner... would do this to you a long time ago..."

a scream leaving you as you feel his entire length inside you, his tip brushing against your g-spot with every thrust. his fingers digging into your hips to keep you in place while he fucks you from behind more and more aggressively, low groans escaping him as he does.

"look at you... sucking my cock in s'good— mmphhh, holy fuck— so tight... so tight f'me, yeah?"

"c-chris— oh my—" you moan, gripping the edge of his desk with your hands. you feel his hand slapping your ass, the skin burning but it turns you on only more. he quickens his pace.

"mmm— that's it, ma... that's ittttt— y'like it rough, huh? such a whore, so pathetic...."

he had no intention of stopping, in fact he had a plan to make you remember this party for the rest of your life. he wanted you to come back for more. for you to become addicted. he slaps your ass again, his cock sliding in and out of your dripping entrance at an awfully fast pace, hitting your g-spot with every thrust. drops of sweat appear on his forehead as he throws his head back, his fingers pressing into your skin, leaving marks. you were fucked out of your mind, moaning loudly and squeezing your eyes as it could help. your pussy clenching around him, his hips stuttering when he feels that, it makes another growl slip out of his mouth.

"holy fuck— you keep squeezin' me so tight... fuck— keep doin' that and i— might cum—" he hisses, his pace making the desk tremble with every thrust. a loud cry of his name leaves your lips in response, once again he feels how hard you clench around him. "yeah? want me to fill ya up? fuckkkk—" his pace was relentless, your constant squeezing his dick in, sending both of you over the edge. "mhmm, c'mon, be good f'me.... cream all over my cock... i wanna... feel it—" you bite your lip but even this can't muffle your load moans, his movements getting sloppier though still hitting you deep. "y'heard me? remember who's the— fuck, birthday boy here— gimme a good gift, can you—?"

"please— my god— 's too much... c-chris, i'm—" you cry out, then another scream leaves your lips, when the knot that had been building in your lower stomach finally releases, your legs shaking. your pussy sucks him in deep, his dick twitches inside you and unable to hold back warm cum bursts from his tip, filling you up and making you squeal. followed by his groan, he rides out the high then slowly pulls out of you, looking down at your stretched hole leaking cum. both of you breathing heavily, he lets go of your hips standing back, your knees weak but you slowly lift yourself up.

he pulls his boxers and pants up, buckling his belt, his eyes never leaving you as you try to stay on your trembling legs. you blink a few times, looking over your shoulder at him, he notices how messed up your makeup is, lipstick smeared on your lips and chin, mascara streaked on the cheeks, hair all messy as well. a little smirk appearing on his lips as you held his gaze and he moves closer. his eyes fixed on yours as he leans down a little and pulls up your panties, then adjusting your short dress, pulling it down. you were out of breath, speechless, not being able to think, when his thumb runs over your bottom lip, messing up the lipstick even more. "make y'self look presentable. unless y'wanna let everyone upstairs know how good i just fucked you." he tilts his head to the side, grinning more. "can't let them know what kinda slut you are, yeah?"

you pathetically shake your head, trying to fix your hair with your hands, and slowly walking towards his bathroom to actually fix yourself up. his eyes once again traveling down to your ass, he was feeling proud. proud that he made you fucked out of your mind, not anyone else. he sits down on the edge of his bed, leaning on his hands, his legs spread. he looked relaxed, the smirk never leaving his lips, as a few minutes later he sees you coming back to the room. you were definitely trying your best to look as nothing happened, yet he knew one look at you and people will know you were with someone. he didn't say anything though, feeling the weird possessiveness filling his chest, knowing you will have to come back upstairs in this state.

making the eye contact with you, he says. "next up you wanna be all over matt, think twice and pick the right brother to fuck you outta your mind, 'kay?"

"y-yeah."

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a/n: lowk need this irl okay bye

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 26: I Hate You, I Love You

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

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

Word Count: 8.3K

Warnings:  I'm gonna label this one 18+ because it's Soldier Boy. , Angst, Cursing, Sexual References, Family Problems- A LOT of family problems, Past Trauma, Death Mentioned, Self Deprecating Thoughts, Blood mentioned. Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, completely a little OOC. Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

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

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/n: I know that this isn't the final battle, but I wrote most of the battle and the chapter was so long (it was over 13K and I wasn't close to ready) that I needed to break it up. So now this is just a wonderful helping of angst in which the reader and Ben do the thing that they do best… fight with each other and then make up.

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READER POV

The silence that follows Homelander's disappearance with Lou and Rosemary's pursuit after him is deafening. It feels like hours have passed, but it's only been seconds. You feel cold and hot, nothing and everything. Fear, anger, anxiety, and terror all congeal into an ice cold ball in the pit of your stomach. Rubble is covering the thick shag carpet on the bedroom floor, the air filled with flecks of dust and drywall from Homelander's departure. You weren't thinking about how Legend would react though, couldn't think of anything else except the fearful look on Lou's face when Homelander grabbed her and refused to release her.

The thought that Lou was trapped with someone like him broke you. The fear that came with the thought was almost mind-numbing, because Homelander was dangerous and now that Ben and you had told him that you didn't want anything to do with him, there were no other bargaining chips. Homelander couldn't be placated because you had crushed the glimmer of hope in his eyes by telling him that he wasn't your son and that he was monster. You knew that Homelander was smart enough that he wouldn't believe you now if you promised him family, not when he had Lou and probably had Rosemary.

Rosemary had minimal training when it came to fighting, yes you'd made sure that she knew the basics of self-defense, but she'd never fought another supe before. She was never interested in that sort of thing. And it wasn't always about using your powers when it came to fighting another supe, it was about tactics and knowing the weaknesses of your opponent. In a fight with someone like Homelander, you couldn't just rely on your abilities, you had to understand what you were up against and see the little ticks that he tried to hide. You'd watched stronger supes fall because they relied too heavily on their abilities, and you worried that Rosemary would be the same way. That she would be filled with a blind rage because Homelander had Lou and that he would use her anger and frustration to his advantage.

Tears were streaming down your face and you were still struggling in Ben's grip, where his arms were wrapped around you, holding you back from chasing after them. And the longer he holds you, as more seconds tick by, everything else goes and you're left with something else.

To say that you were angry was an understatement, you were livid. You hated that Ben had done this to you again. That once again Ben was acting like you weren't a supe, like you weren't powerful, and like you needed to be locked away from the world in a glass cabinet. You were sick of it.

Because you understood that Ben loved you, that he wished to protect you and that he feared losing you, but you refused to allow him to walk on eggshells around you and put you in a glass bubble because of his insecurities.

Yes Ben had told you that he saw your strength in the past, that he saw how powerful you were, and only wished for you to need him, but you were done with this. He didn't have any right to do it. And yes, he was the man you loved, but he was not your master. Perhaps that's what made all this worse for you, that Ben said how much he loved you and that he saw your power, but every time things went South he did shit like this.

"Ben, let me go." You growl, turning your head to look over your shoulder.

"No. Not until you promise not to go after them." Ben's eyes are narrowed. He knew that if you promised him, you wouldn't do it, that you cared too much about what a promise represented to break one.

It was true, which was why you weren't going to promise him shit.

"I won't promise that."

"Then I guess I'm not letting you go." He says it casually, but the look in his eyes is meant to convey that he is just as upset with this turn of events as you are.

"Oh I think you fucking will." Your teeth clench together and as you say it, you turn your palms face down in front of you and break his hold. Having Homelander's strength made it easier to face Ben. In the past the two of you had sparred together in training. Back then you didn't think too much about it, but now you understood that he did it to make sure you knew how to protect yourself when he wasn't there, that he worried about you more than he wanted to say and that was the only way he could prepare you without telling you how much you meant to him.

Ben stumbles back a step, his eyes flashing with anger and you’re sure that he can see the same emotions written on your face.

“What the fuck is your problem?” You snarl at him.

“My problem?” Ben sputters.

“Yes!”

“What the fuck are you talking about? If anything it’s you that’s having a problem-“

“Oh I’m sorry Benjamin. Am I being difficult?" You press a hand to your chest feigning remorse. "Forgive me for having a fucking problem when our granddaughter has just been KIDNAPPED by a psychopath. And our daughter is going to face him alone!"

"She's not alone-"

"Wrong. She is alone, because you wouldn't let me help her."

"I told you that I didn't want you to fight him alone. I told you that we would do this together-"

"I wouldn't have been alone if you'd stop being so damn overprotective!" You snap, stomping over to the chest of drawers, searching through them angrily for something to wear. It was difficult not to rip the handle off the front in your anger. You were still wearing your sweatpants and an oversized paint splattered t-shirt, and the last thing you wanted was to face Homelander looking like that.

Why can't he just understand that I am powerful too? Why can’t he let me go for once? Why does he keep doing this?

You hated that he was acting like you couldn't handle yourself, especially after he had seen you destroy Legend's backyard single handedly the other day with your mind. You were so sick of being underestimated. First Vought, then Stan, and now Ben, and you didn't want to be seen that way anymore. You were powerful and damnit you weren't going to "sit" and "stay" because some man ordered you to.

"I am not being overprotective!" Ben's voice is a low growl. "The other day I told you that I didn't want you to do this by yourself, that I didn't want you to do any of this alone. That I'm here-"

"Well congratulations Ben! Our daughter is doing exactly that right now, facing fucking Homelander alone, because you couldn't just let me go." You grab the end of your shirt and take it off, shucking it to the floor before you begin to put on the tight long sleeved black t-shirt. "You always do this."

"Do what?"

"Underestimate me!" You take off the sweatpants and quickly step into the dark jeans. By now your eyes were flashing bright purple and you could feel the thrum of your abilities under your skin, begging to be released. The energy was growing with each passing second, the lights in the room flickered and you could feel an unnatural breeze rustling the curtains that were hanging from the windows, coming from you.

"I do not fucking underestimate you. I know how powerful you are-"

"Well you have a funny way of showing it." You spit turning around to face him again.

Ben is also getting dressed. His sweatpants have been replaced with the bottom portion of his supe suit, his knife, pistol, and top half of his suit is laying on the unmade bed. "We have already talked about why I have a problem with you doing shit like that alone." His words are almost a growl, but you can hear an emotion on the edge of them that isn't anger. It was worry.

You knew what he was referring to, when he told you that he hated watching you die because it made him feel like he'd failed to protect you, that every time you were hurt, Ben struggled with that.

You knew how he felt.

The other day at Herogasm when Homelander had him by the throat all you saw was red. You didn't want to witness Ben's last moments just as he had witnessed yours multiple times. But it didn’t mean that you held Ben back from doing what he needed to do. You saw his strength and supported him. All you wanted was for him to support you.

A part of you deep down registered that he acted like this to protect you, that he didn't want to lose you as much as you didn't want to lose him. And as happy as you were that Ben was finally getting comfortable showing and talking about his emotions in front of you, you still wished that he would let you be strong for yourself. You had to be strong without him for forty years, protecting Rosemary and Lou.

Does he really think that Stan and Countess are the only people who I've killed in the past forty years? That there haven't been other people and supes that figured it out? Did Homelander really think that Stormfront's death was a suicide? 

"You let me face the twins!" You shout.

"Those incestuous fucks couldn't handle you when they were full powered, let alone when they were dried out." Ben states pulling his shirt over his head.

"I don't understand why Homelander is any different." You cross the room to grab the long dark green leaver overcoat, the same one that Ben had scraped the blood and bits of flesh off when you returned to Legend's after you killed Stan. "You saw me handle him the other day-"

"Because he is different!" Ben practically stabs his knife down into it's holster on his belt.

"Oh really?" You tap your lip as if deep in thought. "Huh. Because I remember you calling him a pussy when you were thinking about killing him. When you told me that Butcher asked you to."

"He is." Ben's eyes are blazing now.

Your sarcasm always did that to him, and it did tend to rear it's ugly head in the most inopportune moments. In all the years you'd known him, Ben never really did like it when you got like that.

The room was quickly heating with the force of Ben’s anger, a slight glow radiating out from his chest, but Ben was keeping it under control. At least for now.

"Oh, so he is a pussy, but not when I have to fight him?"

"Yes." He seethes through clenched teeth.

"I hate to break this to you Benjamin, but of the two of us, I'm the one who has fought him and kicked his fucking ass." You spit back at him, sick of his attitude.

Ben crosses the room in two heavy strides so that he's standing over you, his hands on his hips. "The only reason why you fucking fought him, was because you felt the need to step in when I had him handled."

"Did you have him handled? Could have fooled me. When someone has you by the throat I find it hard to say that you have a handle on the situation!" You mirror his stance, refusing to back down.

"Don't fucking do that."

"Do what?"

"Be sarcastic! You know that I hate it."

"That's just too damn bad!" You snap. "I'm not your dog Benjamin  you cannot tell me what to do."

"I do not treat you like a damn dog. I will say that you're being bitchy." His teeth are grinding together, so hard that you can audibly hear it.

"Well excuse the fuck out of me! I think I'm allowed to be bitchy," You seethe the word. "Because you're acting like a sexist dick!"

"I am not-"

"Yes you are." You poke your finger into his chest. "And I don’t want you to come with me."

"Like fucking hell I'm going to sit here and wait around for you to come back."

"I don't want you to come with me because I don't want to spend the whole fucking time worried that you're going to get in my fucking way and prevent me from doing what I have to do."

"I do not get in your way." Ben roars.

"Yes you do." Your eyes narrow. "And I don't need some "big strong man" to do things for me!" You make air quotes around 'big strong man' to emphasize the point, but Ben was not getting it.

This was one of the worst fights you'd ever had with him, you knew that. The two of you had many over the years, Legend was not lying when he told Butcher that, but this one was quickly nearing the same magnitude as the fight the two of you had the night of the premiere. This was more than just the two of you going through the motions of being frustrated with one another and more than the two of you shouting over a little problem, this was about Ben's continuous need to hold you back and keep you out of harms way like you weren't a supe and perfectly capable of doing thing by yourself.

"All I do is try to protect you." His eyes are dark now, not a trace of green in them, looking more like darkened pits. When Ben was really angry you'd seen them go that dark before, only the night of the premiere had you seen them like that when he looked at you, all the other times you'd seen that look when he felt the need to put someone in their place, to beat them into submission.

"I don't need you to protect me!" It comes out in one breath, uttered in an exasperated tone, because again Ben just didn't understand.

Ben stops. "You don't need me?" The words aren't in the same harsh tone that he used before, it's softer, and the anger in his eyes shifts to something else for just a moment.

You could feel regret swirling in your chest, because you did need Ben. You needed him more than life itself, didn't want to spend a moment away from him. You hadn't meant to say it like that. And you know that it was something Ben struggled with, the idea that you didn't need him anymore or never did need him.

"No. Ben, I do fucking need you, but I don't need you to protect me all the time." You emphasize with a sigh. "I've changed. I'm not the same person I was in Philadelphia. I'm not the same little girl. I've been taking care of myself and Rosemary and Lou for years. I needed to change and so I did."

Ben still looks like he can't fully understand what you're trying to say.

"Ben do you really think that Stan is the only person that I've killed in the past forty years?"

Ben blinks surprised.

"There have been others. People who asked too many questions. Supes that just didn't believe the lie that Stan and I made up." You sigh. You weren't ashamed of that, weren't ashamed of the things you had to do to keep your daughter and your granddaughter safe. "You think that every death leaves a scar, but not always." You murmur remembering the fight with Stormfront, the one you never talked about. When she showed up on your doorstep and threatened you and Rosemary. And the others who threatened you, tried to blackmail you because they didn't fear you the way they should have. Stormfront had expected the same woman she knew from the past, but you weren't her anymore.

"What do you mean there have been others?" Ben's expression hardens, malice swimming in his eyes when he realizes that other people have hurt you.

Flashes of the past come creeping up, years you spent with Ben and the cold ones that you'd spent without him stumbling around like someone trying to find light when they were buried underground. And you did love him, but you hated that he did this, because every time he did it made you feel small, it made you feel again like he didn't see you or comprehend who you were.

"They don't matter now." You sigh. "But I am not something to be possessed. I am not someone who’s going to hang on your arm make you look good and laugh at all your jokes. I am not something to be controlled or shielded from the world. If I wanted to just be a trophy or a doll for someone to use any way they wished I would have stayed and married Howard. But I didn’t. I came with you, but I never imagined that you would treat me that way. I never imagined that you would treat me like he did.”

Ben looks stunned. He should. In all the years you’d known him you’d never compared him to Howard like that. It was a low blow and you knew it, but you were pissed. It hurt you to say the words, hurt you to open up that wound all over again, but it was the truth. You didn't lie to Ben and you weren't going to start now.

The words ring through the air between the two of you, the space between your bodies suddenly miles apart even though you were standing in the same room. It was the first time you'd ever felt that distance with him, not since the night he came to your apartment the night that he almost killed Noir and after the two of you talked you cried in the shower frustrated and angry with yourself because you couldn't tell him how you felt and upset that he didn't love you the way you loved him. And now you were just as frustrated and angry with him.

Ben opens his mouth to answer you, the look in his eyes heartbreaking.

"What the fuck happened in here?" Butcher shouts stumbling down the stairs and into the room. He looks disheveled, like he just rolled out of bed.

"Homelander." Your gaze leaves Ben. "He took Lou, Rosemary went after him."

"He took Lou?" Hughie sputters from behind Butcher, fear flitting through his eyes.

It was the same fear that had begun to trickle back in after the fight you just had, but the things that Ben and you had yelled at one another were still there, soaking through the air like a foul odor and seeping in to your heart. You weren't sure if it meant that you could come back from it or not.

"Yeah." Ben grunts.

"Then lets go get her." Butcher says. "Come on." He gestures with his hand and begins to trek up the stairs with Hughie in tow, leaving Ben and you in the bedroom alone once more.

But this time you can't say anything, can't bring yourself to apologize because you're still so damn mad, and so instead you follow after Butcher, without giving Ben a backwards glance.

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SOLDIER BOY POV

The car smoothly followed the long stretch of highway under Butcher’s hand, the trees along the road flashing by in a green blur, but it still didn’t seem like it was going fast enough.

It had taken Butcher and Hughie ten minutes to get ready after they stumbled downstairs to where Ben and you were and now the four of you were on the road and driving to New York. Hughie and Butcher were in the front seat while Ben and you sat in the back, but unlike the other day when you drove to Herogasm together, you were sitting on the other side of the car, arms crossed over your chest staring out the window, and not touching him at all.

Ben's jaw clenched when he remembered the day you drove together to Herogasm, when he held your hand and you leaned into his shoulder, reveling in the fact that you wanted him there with you.

And he wasn't sure that you still did. As much as he hated to admit it, that scared him. He didn't know where he should be if he wasn't with you. Everything else felt wrong. To be without you was like being without the sun, living in the deepest darkest cave and refusing to see the light.

That being said, Ben knew you were pissed, he was too.

Watching Homelander take Lou all but ripped him in half. He hated that the pussy had used a fucking child as a shield and hated that he had gotten away with it. Ben felt his body tense when he remembered the fear in Lou's eyes and a jolt of white hot rage burns through him at the thought that Homelander was hurting her.

Ben cared about Lou as much as he cared about you. She loved him and always made him feel welcome, and even though Rosemary never did, he was worried about her too. Maybe it was because he saw how much it hurt you for them to go, for Homelander to take Lou and for Rosemary to race after him. He knew that was your worst fear, but that didn't stop Ben from holding you back, for refusing to let you go alone to a place that Ben couldn't follow.

He'd never resented his abilities before, but he suddenly wished that he could fly. He would have soared after Homelander, after Rosemary, and after you if you had followed behind them.  That was why he had held you back though, because he couldn’t and he was scared.

The word felt like a curse to think, but it was true. Ben knew that it was fear coursing through his veins in those few moments when he realized that you were going to go after Homelander and he wouldn't be able to follow. He didn’t want you to face him alone, didn’t want to watch you die again.  After all these years, each time you died he feared that it would be the last, he feared that it would be the time it stuck and that he would be left all alone. He didn't want to live in a world without you, he'd done that for forty years and he was done with that.

Ben believed that it was his job to be there for you and after forty years of him being away, he wanted to be there to help you and take care of you. He was ready to make up for the lost time and he had told you how he felt the other day when you destroyed Legend's backyard, that he wanted the two of you to do this together.

That was before today.

Ben's hands are curled into fists on his lap as he forces himself to look out his own side of the car, refusing to look at you. If you could do the silent treatment he could too. Of all the fights the two of you had in the past, Ben knew this one was worse or at least it was as bad as when he fucked up, fucked Countess and then pushed you away when all he wanted was to bring you closer.

Honestly, you'd never compared him to Howard before. Ben could still remember the words you uttered to him the night of your birthday before you allowed him to take you to bed:

"Don't be jealous of Howard. He meant nothing to me. No one means as much to me as you do Ben."

Ben remembered the way you'd smiled up at him when you said it cheeks slightly flushed, lips red from when he kissed you.  He remembered the way he felt like he'd swallowed pure sunshine, because that was what you always did to him. You always made him feel like he was the only person in the world that was allowed to see the real you. He knew that you loved him, knew that he loved you more than life itself, but what you'd yelled him before Butcher came downstairs made him feel like taking a two by four to the chest. It hurt him.

He hated what you said to him, that you compared him to that asshole from back home. Ben wished for nothing more than to wipe the memories of that man from your mind. When you were younger sometimes Ben would see Howard and you sitting in the park or getting lunch. He remembered the way that you never seemed to smile as wide, how small you looked, how Howard liked you better in the gowns that your mother chose for you, how Howard liked you silent, and how Howard preferred your body covered in heavy coats even though it was the middle of summer.

That particular thing always pissed Ben off, because he knew how you struggled with that, struggled with the way you looked and Ben hated that someone else who stated they loved you made you feel small and ugly, when you were the most beautiful woman that Ben had ever seen in his life.

Ben hated Howard with a passion for that exact reason, because Howard did try to control you. He chose what you wore, complained about what you ate, discouraged your art, and did other unspeakable things that you had told Ben over the years. Things that made Ben want to go back to Philadelphia and end Howard’s bloodline.

But sometimes on the nights when Ben was away at boarding school and he couldn't sleep he would think of Howard and you. Ben would never admit this to anyone, but he would compare himself to Howard, try to find the little differences that Ben thought made you like Howard, the differences that Ben thought about doing himself to make you love him the way he loved you. It always made him feel like a fucking pussy though. His father probably would have beat him within an inch of his life if his father knew that Ben was comparing himself to another man. It was something that Ben's father ingrained in him, that Ben's was from a strong, proud, family that never did that. And that a real man knew that he was better than everyone else, and if anyone tried to challenge that then it was best settled in the ring.

Ben sighed. He was trying hard to weed out the toxic things his father told him. You helped immensely with that, by letting Ben know that he didn’t have to be strong all the time and didn’t need to keep everything inside, that he didn't have to hide what he was feeling from you.

He loved that about you, that he felt like he never had to hide who he really was, that you saw all the parts of him he locked away for so long from everyone else and didn't care. And in exchange he got to see all the wonderful things about you and he didn't want to trade that for the world.

Even though he was angry with everything the two of you shouted, he still loved you.

You were just so damn stubborn all the time and never wanted to see things the way I do and-

Ben gritted his teeth together as another wave of annoyance came over him. He really did hate how stubborn you were. Probably because you were just as stubborn as he was and that meant the two of you were often at a stalemate.

Ben glanced over to where you were looking out the window. You were frowning, arms crossed tightly over your chest, leaning back against the cloth seats.

The awkward silence in the car was palpable and Ben knew that Hughie and Butcher were also trying not to notice the tension in the backseat. There was a song playing on the radio that Ben didn't recognize, but Hughie kept bobbing his head along to the music while Butcher's hands tighten on the wheel.

Ben's eyes flick back to where you are staring out the window. He wanted desperately to know what you were thinking. Honestly he'd rather the two of you be yelling at one another than you give him the silent treatment. At least then he had some semblance of what was going on in your head. Ben knew you better than anyone, which meant that he was usually good at reading you, but not now.

Even Ben could admit to himself that you'd changed some, you were a little harder than you had been when he knew you, but it didn't make him love you any less. He had been shocked at your revelation that you'd killed other people. Ben was trying to ignore what you'd said about not all deaths leaving scars.

He'd been present for most of the ones that had happened in the past, but he wondered how many others there had been, and what other powers you had maybe acquired. That  was the thing about you, you weren't one to brag, never seemed to need to use as many powers to take someone down.

Your arms tighten around your body and Ben watches a single tear roll down your cheek.

Fuck. He thinks to himself. He really didn't want to be the reason why you're crying. He had been the main reason for so long and he hated that, he hated making you cry and hated when you cried in general. If you weren't so mad at him he would have unbuckled your seat belt and pulled you over onto his lap so he could hold you close and make you feel better, but he wasn't sure you wanted that, still wanted him.

The thought that you didn't made him feel like he was sinking into the sea, that the sun was slowly being sucked away while he's dragged under into the depths. Ben didn't know who he was without you, didn't know where he would go, and certainly didn't know what his purpose was if he wasn't in your life.

Before he can stop himself he reaches out to touch your arm, but you flinch away from him, still looking out the window and not turning to him.

Ben fights the urge to make you talk to him, and drops his hand back down to his thigh, curling it into a fist again. Ben felt something in his chest that was unfamiliar when you didn't let him touch you. He wasn't sure if it was fear or anger or frustration but it was there, simmering underneath the skin.

It reminded him too much of when he came back you didn't let him touch you, didn't want him anywhere near you. He didn't want to admit how much he relied on that, you touching him, not just sexually. The little touches you gave him on the back of his hand to comfort him when you knew he was anxious, or the brace of your hand against his shoulder or back when he was sitting down to reassure him that you were with him and that you weren't going anywhere or the moments you adjusted his collar when it was facing the wrong way, or smoothed a wrinkle at the front of his shirt or even just running your fingers through his hair the way you knew he liked, Ben lived for them, for all those little moments.

No one else had ever tried to touch him that way before, with comfort and love.

Even when you were children, the hugs you gave him when you saw him made everything else seem colorless in comparison. When he came back to you and you refused to let him touch you he was afraid you never would again and when you began to touch him again he felt like he’d ascended to another plane, but now your refusal for him to touch your elbow or even take your hand worried him.

He did not believe that he could survive without something as simple as that.

But all of that just solidified the one thing that Ben knew deep down, had known since the moment he realized how much you meant to him, that you were his one weakness, his fatal flaw, the one thing in his life that he couldn’t live without. He didn’t want to imagine that world existed because he couldn't survive without you.

That was why he didn't want you to fight Homelander alone. It wasn't because he didn't see how strong you were, it was that he was so afraid that he was going to lose you that he couldn't control himself.

He hated admitting that even to you, but now he knew he had to, because he knew his pride wasn't worth losing you.

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

READER POV

After the most awkward car ride in history, you were ready to get out and kick some ass. Despite Butcher's accelerated driving it had taken five hours to get back to the city from Legend's due to traffic and the whole time you were especially aware of Ben's presence. His brooding was practically audible from the other side of the car where he sulked and refused to look at you. You figured that just as he did the silent treatment you could too, but it didn't make it any easier.

Frankly nothing made any of this easy.

You were frustrated by this turn of events, that Homelander had done the one thing that you feared more than anything else in the world, the one thing that you had tried to prevent from happening your entire life, but he had.

But as upset as you were and worried about Lou and Rosemary, you were upset with yourself over what you had said to Ben. You hadn't meant to mention Howard, it was a low blow and you knew how much he hated the time you spent with Howard. You knew that Ben struggled with the thought that you possibly loved Howard more than you loved him and the  possibility that you regretted spending your life with Ben rather than him. And you knew that it hurt him as much as the moments you watched him with other women over the years.

You didn't want Howard, never wanted Howard, never felt anything for him, and for Ben you felt everything. Sometimes you were afraid to show Ben just how much you felt for him, feared that it would make him push you away when he realized just how much you needed him. In the forty years you spent away from him you tried to convince yourself that you didn't, but having him back was like everything coming back in color from black and white. But at the same time you were still a little angry, angry with him for holding you back when you knew you could have taken Homelander down yourself.

Because in your heart you knew that was what Howard did to you. Not that he held you back from fighting a psychopathic supe, but that Howard never saw you more as a possession, a jewel in a crown adorned on his lofty head, nothing more than something to parade around Philadelphia. That's why it was so different for you when you were with Ben, because Ben saw you, he never covered you up with heavy cloaks, he never discouraged your love of art, he never bored you or made you feel like your opinion wasn't important. Ben made you feel alive, and Howard? Howard made you feel like the empty husk of what you used to be.

You press your lips together in a tight line as Butcher pulls up the seat so you can get out of the backseat and set foot on solid ground. Hughie had been left behind at a gas station, and yes you hated that Butcher had done that, but at the same time you were relieved. You didn't want him to get hurt. You still believed that Hughie was different than you, not that he was innocent, but he wasn't jaded or hardened the way you had to be to survive.

Your gaze lifts to look up at the towering skyscraper that rises from the earth like a proud oak tree on a hill. Vought tower looks the same way it always has, bold and haughty like the men who founded the company all those years ago. The setting sun glints off the glass windows like the last glimmer of summer, something to be grasped before the cold of winter comes to take it all away.

You'd stood here looking up at the building before, watched the lights turn off and on, watched the people go in and out of the building, and had crossed the threshold a handful of times. The final time was to deliver last rights to your good friend Liberty.

She, like a few others, hadn't believed your story and had shown up to speak with you. But unlike the others, her methods of finding out if you were still you was to try to kill you. She had succeeded and then left stating that she would "be back to catch up." When you'd gone to Vought to find her, you hadn't been expecting her to look the way she did, half burned and laying in a hospital bed. You didn't know why she looked that way. It had been odd to stand there over her, odd to remember the person she used to be, proud and powerful and then look at the broken body that laid there. Her death had been a necessary evil, the only time you ever stepped foot in Vought Tower in the last forty years, but if it was to protect your family it was worth it to you.

Your frown grows the longer you stand there underneath the ominous glow that emanates from inside, anxiety prickling along your skin like the spines of a cactus. You couldn't remember the last time you felt this way, just that you didn't want to feel this way ever again. The building was a symbol of everything you hated, and you vowed deep down to destroy Vought and send it to hell where it belonged and make those who were responsible for Vought's success pay.

You think about the other day in Legend's backyard, when Ben pulled you back from the darkened pit and back into the light, when Ben told you that he didn't want you to do it alone, that he wanted to be there for you, and when he promised you again that he wasn't leaving and that he wanted you to give him all your burdens.

Yes he wants to be there for me, I get it, I GET IT. You sigh in frustration. I understand that he loves me and that he wants to protect me, but I wish he would just-

"Y/n?" Ben says from behind you. His voice is quiet, reserved, but you know that he's probably just as upset as you are.

You turn and glance up at him. Ben hadn't tried to touch you since you shifted away from him in the car. It hurt you to do that to him, to pull away from his touch when all you wanted was for him to comfort you. The night he came back to you, you hadn't lied when you said that he might have been the one who hurt you, but he was the only person you wanted to comfort you. That was the hard thing about loving him and him being your best friend. It was difficult to draw the line in the sand, to separate the two.

The feeling was normal. It was the same one you had when he broke your heart. You had hated him then too, but he was still the only person you had and the longer you stayed in bed running over the years you spent with him, the more you wished that he was with you. The only person that you wanted to comfort you and care for you even after everything that he had done and yelled at you at the premiere, was Ben.

Sometimes it scared you how much you relied on his touch, how much you needed just a comforting hand on your arm, or for him to tuck your hair behind your ear or for him to kiss you or for him to hold you while you slept. You didn't realize how much you needed it, how much you craved it until he came back and you allowed him to touch you again.

In the car you had been trying not to cry, but everything was building, your frustration with Ben over the conversation the two of you had, fear over what would happen to Lou and Rosemary, and red hot anger directed at Homelander. A single tear had slipped and when Ben had tried to comfort you, you pulled away from him.

Fuck.

You hadn't wanted to. You'd wanted to curl up against him and let him make you feel better, but you were still angry with him for holding you back.

The words you yelled at him momentarily ring in your ears. It wasn't just that you compared him to Howard, it was you told him you didn't need him to protect you. But you knew Ben better than anyone and you knew that he was probably circling the drain and thinking that you basically told him that you "didn't need him" when you did.

"Yeah?" You clear your throat. It was difficult to look at him, not when you were so close to just breaking down and telling him that you were sorry. You knew that you needed to be focused on what was about to happen, but you couldn't, not when things were like this between the two of you. You hated fighting with him.

Ben's gaze drifts to where Butcher is staring expectantly at you.

"Give us a minute." Ben says to him.

"Why?"

"Just give us a fucking minute." Ben snaps, obviously annoyed, but you knew that he was probably upset about the fight the two of you had and he was projecting that anger onto Butcher.

"Fine. I’ll clear the lobby. Don’t take too long." Butcher frowns, but turns and stalks up the front steps of the building.

You turn back to look at him, unable to stop the sarcastic comment from building. Because yes, you wanted to forgive him, but at the same time you were still frustrated with him. "What? Are you gonna lock me in the car? Or are you going to tell me again how you don’t want me to fight him?"

"No." Ben growls.

"Then why-"

"Because I don’t want it to be like this." Anger lurks on the edge of his words, but at the same time you can hear something else in his voice, something that sounds a little broken. And it makes your heart clench in you chest.

"You don’t want what to be like this?" You ask confused.

"I don’t want us to go in there angry at each other." He continues.

"Why not?"

"Because I-" Ben stops, his jaw tightening for a moment, before he sighs. "I hate it when you’re mad at me. When you don't let me-" He swallows and you watch his eyes drop to your hand for a moment and you understand what he's saying.

That he hates it when you don't let him touch you. You hated it too.

"You think I like being mad at you?" You whisper, fingers itching to touch his cheek, to push back the dark hair that has fallen forward into his eyes.

"No." He breathes.

You stand there for a moment, letting the silence fill the space between you. The sounds of the city rising around you, the sound of traffic, vendors downtown, and the smell of the pretzel stand around the corner are everywhere. There aren't as many people on the streets now, but you know that it's only a matter of time before someone recognizes Ben in his uniform.

You sigh as you look up at him. Despite the uniform there's a vulnerability in his eyes that you can't shake and you understand how much it must have hurt him too.

“I don’t like it when you’re mad at me either.” You reply.

"I don’t like being mad at you." Ben exhales heavily. "And I don't want it to be like this before we go in. If something happens I-" He stops talking. "I don't want our last conversation to be like that."

"What do you mean you don't want our last conversation to be like that?" This time you can't help, but take his hand and Ben physically relaxes as you do, squeezing your hand back just as tightly.

"If this doesn't work out, if-" His jaw locks and he drops his eyes from yours. "I can't lose you."

"Ben." You whisper and this time you can't help but hug him, pull him close to comfort him. Your arms go up around the back of his neck, burying your face into the hollow of his throat. "You're not going to lose me. Everything is going to be fine." Ben's body immediately curves around you, arms holding you against him so tight it's almost painful, like he thinks you'll never allow him to do this ever again.

"I'm not strong enough for that y/n-" He whispers it so low that you're not sure he meant for you to hear it. "I can't-"

"Shh." You breathe, moving your hands into his hair, smoothing down the unruly strands at the back of his head. "I promise you're not going to lose me." You pull back to look him in the eye. "But I want you to treat me like an equal, like you see my power-“

“I do.”

“No you don’t, because if you did you wouldn’t hold me back all the time.”

“I’m trying not to, but-“ Ben sighs leaning forward into you. “You said it’s your job to take care of me, well it’s my job to protect you.” His expression hardens. “And I failed before.”

“What happened to me was not your fault.”

“I should have been there. I shouldn't have left you for a second-"

“Just like I should have been there in Nicaragua." You whisper back, with a sorrowful sigh. "Just like I should have asked more questions, should have made sure that you were really gone. Then you wouldn’t have had to be in that lab, you wouldn't have been alone-"

“That’s not your fault.” Ben's forehead is against yours now. "Please don't feel bad about that."

“It doesn’t matter if it was my fault or not. I should have been there for you. I will forever feel guilty that I didn’t come for you sooner and that you had to endure that for forty years.” You drop your eyes to his chest.

“Then I’ll forever feel guilty for the way I treated you.” Ben replies.

"I don't want you to." Your gaze rises to his once more, locking with his deep green eyes.

It was true. You could still remember what he said to you, remember what he did, but he was here now and he was doing everything right to make you forget. He was being so different and working so hard to make up for the past that you didn't feel the prick of pain with the memories that you used to.

"And I don't want you to feel guilty about what happened to me." Ben murmurs, raising his hand to cup your cheek. "Those years don't matter to me. The only thing that matters to me is being here with you. And I don't want to miss another second because I did something stupid again."

"And I don't want you to feel guilty about what you did to me anymore. Because you're making me forget, you're doing everything you can to be different, and you're making me fall in love with you all over again." You whisper, leaning in to his hand where his thumb traces gently over your cheekbone. "And I don't care what the past held as long as I have a future with you, as long as you're here with me I don't care about anything else."

Ben smiles when he kisses you, the shape of his lips imprinting against yours, and making you lose yourself in loving him the same way that you had all those years ago. "I love you sweetheart."

"I love you too." You smile just as wide, fingers tangling in his dark hair. "And I'm sorry. I shouldn't have compared you to Howard. You're not like him Ben. You are my everything and Howard was nothing."

He nods. "I'm sorry too. I didn't mean to hold you back I just wanted to make sure you were safe."

"I know. I want to keep you safe too." You nudge your nose against his, breathing in the same air for a few moments.

He is still smiling softly. "Why are we like this?"

"Like what?"

"We always find something to fight about and I-"

“I kinda like it.”  You shrug.

“What?”

“Not that I like that you’re mad at me or being mad at you, I just think that we like to keep it interesting." You snort. "I think that if we didn't have a healthy amount of fighting we would just be so boring and-"

Ben kisses you again to shut you up, but it doesn't work.

"Plus, I like to think that the make-up is worth it after." You whisper against his lips with a smirk.

You watch Ben's eyes darken, with your comment. "Well, sweetheart, I'd say that we've got about forty years to make-up for." His hand on your waist tightens, moving his lips to your ear. "And I look forward to every single second." Ben's voice is rough and he bites your earlobe, sending a shiver down your spine that for a moment clears your worry about Homelander.

"I love you." You smile, kissing him like it's the last thing you'll ever do, like it's the greatest good you'll ever amount to.

"I love you too." Ben replies kissing you like it's the last time he'll be able to and trying not to think that it could be.

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

A/N: A lot of delicious angst before the final fight! I have written most of the fight already, but I am hoping to finish out the next chapter by the end of the week... if the writer's block isn't blocking. 😂😭 I hope y'all liked this one. I see only maybe 2 chapters left officially in the series, but we will see how everything wraps up.

As always thank you so much for reading! I am so happy that so many people love this fic as much as I do. Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist! :)

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[calangolengo]

Some headcanons that I think about a lot for Mute!Stan:

1. He didn't stop talking right away, it was a gradual process. Each year he spoke less, which got him into less trouble as a criminal, he had to do horrible things to himself to control his tongue and speak softly, he was yelled at a lot on the streets to shut up.

2. He learned some sign language on the street, but he wasn't fluent so he still had to speak sometimes.

3. When he got Ford's card he was barely speaking anymore, talking to his brother was one thing since his voice had been out of use for months already.

4. After Ford falls into the portal, Stan organizes his own funeral, his mother almost recognizes his voice because it was very different from Ford's at this point, so he decides to stop talking completely. People saw this as a response to the trauma of losing his brother so they didn't talk much about it.

5. Stan still opened the Mystery Shack, but without the guided tours. He simply made it more like a museum. He placed a speaker in front of each strange object where he recorded some descriptions of the creatures in advance, alone, at night.

6. He spread several speakers throughout the cabin with price information and random curiosities. As well as a larger speaker that constantly repeated that they did not accept refunds at the Mystery Shack.

7. The tours were created by Soos. As a child, he would visit the cabin with his grandmother and, since she was bad with the speakers, he would invent descriptions of the objects himself, which always gathered a small crowd around him who bought many more things on the way out. Stan hired him almost immediately.

8. Soos quickly learned sign language to talk to Stan and later taught Wendy, who also went to work there.

9. The kids learned sign language at home when they learned they were going to stay with their estranged great uncle who they had only heard about and who was apparently mute. It was a challenging project for them. Dipper learned it to challenge himself academically and Mabel learned it because it was fun to use a secret language and also because she thought it was like creating spells with her hands. They weren't very good, but they managed well.

10. When the portal is reactivated, Mabel is still left with the decision of whether to turn it off or not and for the first time in years Stan speaks and asks her not to turn it down, which shocks everyone because they thought Stan was mute since birth.

11. Ford is not happy when he comes back and Stan doesn't talk to him, despite all his knowledge of sign language it was never something that caught his attention and he suspects that Stan is just doing it just to be a jerk.

12. The kids get upset with Stan for being able to talk all that time and refuse to acknowledge his sign language for the rest of the day, avoiding looking at his hands the whole time, Stan panics and basically Soos is the only one who makes communication between Stan and the others viable because he translates everything Stan says.

13. The kids talk to Stan again the next day because he seems miserable for not being able to talk to them and also because they are so used to this type of communication that they forget that they were ignoring him.

14. Ford is the hardest to accommodate; when he's not deliberately ignoring Stan, he tries to catch him off guard so he'll talk. At one point, an argument starts at night on the porch, demanding that his brother talk, which leads Stan to try to talk again, but can't because he's desperate and has a panic attack.

15. During Weirdmageddon, they still switch identities, with Stan speaking and acting exactly like Ford. Bill is tricked because he knows that one of the twins can't talk and ends up being erased with Stan's mind.

16. When his memory is erased, Stan starts talking again. It takes a while for his voice to come back because he didn't use it much. The children still use sign language while talking to him to try to bring his memories back. The scrapbook works little by little.

17. With each passing day, Stan remembers a little more and each day he talks less until, by the time Stan and Ford get on their boat, he has all his memory restored and has stopped talking completely again.

18. Stan speaks few words sometimes, he says his brother's name, a few words of comfort or a greeting, only to Ford and in a low tone of voice, it doesn't happen much but whenever it does it brings Ford to tears, he preserves each of these moments as treasures.

That's it for now, I've been thinking a lot about Mute Stan in the last few days and I wanted to express these thoughts a little, whoever wants to add more things or take over the narrative from here on out, feel free, the floor is open.

[dreemurr-skelememer]

Hello :D

I have been following you for the last year or so (a few days after I got my Tumblr lmao) and I absolutely love your art!

I have been wanting to study your art style for a while but don't really know where to start,,,

Could you please show me a small portion of your art process, if it isn't too much trouble of course. Thank you and have a nice day!

hello. oh my god. this took forever to find. im sorry it took 2 WHOLE FUCKING MONTHS for me to respond to this but i wanted to put it off until i felt happy with my art process again, so here it is

my fall 2024 rendering tutorial! (this will be very very long)

FLATS AND WHATEVER YOU WANNA DO WITH LINES GIRL. then make sure to recolor the lineart to better match your base. trust me it helps, bold dark lines are Not your best friend when rendering. wait for that post-rendering

i start off with a doodle or a sketch, and then filling it in with flats and other details such as blush

FIGURE OUT YOUR LIGHT SOURCE. FIGURE IT OUT GIRL YOU CAN DO IT you can make it as simple as possible, make it as big as possible, dont even THINK about the details.........just make it really fucking big so you at least know where the shadows and the light goes THEN add smaller shading details LISTEN TO ME. LISTEN TO ME OKAY!!!!!!!!

my key point with this is for you to learn lighting fundamentals. it's SOOO ANNOYING but alas......they are all correct. it helps a lot.

one thing i also really want to point out is that i like creating a big shadow shape first before fixing up the little details (such as folds and whatever) because it helps me focus on the way the lighting actually works instead of tunnel vision-ing into making the shading make sense on the clothing.

contact shadows (i dont remember if thats what theyre called okay) theyre fucking ugly because im not actually thinking sorry 💔

okay so basically: contact shadows (if that's what they're called) are the spots in shading and lighting where light will NEVER hit.

shadows are still influenced by the colors and lights around it (it's why a blue shadow and a yellow shadow feel completely different, despite both being shadows) so it's not always COMPLETELY dark. BUT! there are small points in shadows where light never hits, and they're almost always super dark or pitch black.

it's hard to explain shadow and light so briefly for a tutorial, but you'll notice it when watching fundamental studies and when trying it out for yourself

YES i unclipped the multiply layer YES its ugly and terrifying but it makes coloring the multiply layer easier okay the colors merged w multiply so now it looks cool and has depth overlaying colors that actually make sense

so basically what i did was color the multiply layer that i used to shade the overall drawing

adding a band of red/orange/yellow around where the light hits, and blue where the shadows get big and wide, gives it a fake ambient occlusion effect in the way that a person would get if they stood under the sun with a clear blue sky

the colors don't have to make sense, especially because i never draw backgrounds, but coloring the shadows really help it give a sense of depth and extra subtle detail and effect that just helps make the painting look nicer

around the end, i also put in colors (in an overlay layer with a low opacity brush) that actually make sense in context of the drawing, which is the lit cigarette and the yellow eyelights mostly because none of the colors were making sense and i needed to actually make use of the lighting that DOES exist in the drawing lol

adding a muddy golden yellow pin light layer (opacity turned down to like 40-50%) to make the light colors less ugly lol

i SWEAR by the fucking pin light layer style. it's so useful and so so underrated.

i used an almost brown-ish gold color on stop of all the layers, and with the pin light layer, it helped make the bright (almost blue-ish) white colors more warm and more yellow. it just helps make things more warm (something i prefer)

i could probably show what it looks like without adjusting the layer opacity to truly show off what i mean (like in the coming section) but i sadly forgot to do that lol

make a layer on top of your drawing with this color in these ranges YES the drawing is fully merged NO don't be afraid, the base was fucking ugly anyway 💔 make this layer into an exclude/exclusion layer style TRUST turn down your exclusion layer opacity from a range of 10% to 40% literally until you're happy with the contrast and the way the color over the drawing. use your eyeballs. i know you can do it im so proud of you

this is pretty self-explanatory instruction-wise, so i'll go into why i do this instead

i really like art that seems like it has low contrast, with almost mid-gray shading and lines. i don't personally use dark and bold lines and shading, unless i find it necessary for the tone of the piece, so using this method helps lower the contrast of the art and make it look "pleasantly muddy" in the way that it's easier and softer on the eyes.

the inverted blue color also helps makes things warmer! the exclusion layer style is still a bit of a mystery to me but i really like the effect it gives, even if i don't completely get how it works lol

if you want an alternative method to this, and if you have access to it (because i primarily use sai and sai only), i absolutely encourage you to play around and experiment with gradient maps. there are so many out there you can make yourself or even get from others that just give the painting an extra amount of depth and color variation. they're SO fun.

personally, if sai2 gets a gradient map update, it's over for y'all it will literally be so over no one will be able to stop me

then i merged everything and actually adjusted the contrast back up because it was looking too muddy for me 💔 but the color adjustments are still there so all hope is not lost here's a comparison of the adjusted contrast in black and white (adjusted on the left) (newly merged layer without adjusting the contrast on the right)

as you can see, i actually turned the contrast back up (despite talking all about how i liked things with less contrast lol)

i wanted to demonstrate that doing adjustments should be done in moderation, and is why i adjust layer opacity often when making color effects you are free to play around with colors to help your style, but don't lose your initial idea and colors along the way. you still need to trust your own colors and intuition!

along with that, i just want to say that it's completely okay to change your mind mid-painting, and it's okay to make somewhat drastic changes. don't be afraid to change things you don't like or change your mind about certain aspects way later on that's basically the whole thing of this!!! don't be scared!!!

now im gonna hold your hand when i say this..........but you need to learn how to render by yourself. it seems like i can teach you but i literally can't, because rendering is different on every piece and depending on how clean your base is. i have to render A LOT because of how fucking ugly my sketches are LMAO to simplify it, think of it as obsessively cleaning up every detail you can see, but with a color picker and a clean, hard edged brush. if you have shit lineart, you don't have to redraw it cleanly over and over, just paint over it. that's basically what rendering is

THIS especially is where you need to be brave and stop being scared. like i said, i can't teach you how to render, and it's something you have to discover yourself because rendering is something that will always be personal to every single piece you make. the way you render on every piece is different. on one piece, you will barely need to render, and on another, rendering is more than half of your ENTIRE process.

don't be afraid to paint over your old art. rendering is a process that's both very perfectionist yet also very careless. find your balance and just go for it.

and then that's it……..u did it………..now yuo know how to paint and render. it's literally just layering shading and lighting knowledge until you think it makes sense and looks okay lol additional note: since i render in only one layer (you don't HAVE to do this, but it'll be harder for you…), i also made slight adjustments with the transform (and liquify, if you have it) tool to make things more proportionate. (i drew the head too big lol)

if you compare the finished piece to the final unrendered base, you can see that a LOT changed, including a bit of subtle proportion adjustment. particularly, the sleeves changed A LOT (because i really didn't like them) but it's also over all cleaner and more coherent, instead of having haphazard colors and shading just thrown about.

rendering is when you finally use all 100% of your brain to finalize and figure out where the shading should go, where to clean up your lines, where to ERASE or ADD BACK in lines, and make sure all your colors look coherent.

it's not as intimidating as it seems, i only use a hard edged brush with a little bit of color mixing and my color picker. it's like dragging and dropping colors to cover up mistakes, it's really quite fun when you get used to it i wish i could explain it clearer but it's hard to describe without visuals!

i hope this helped, and i hope all my yapping isn't annoying (art as a special interest beloved)

have fun studying and trying to render in my art style!

[bengiyo]

Hello 👋

All of your favorite horniest sex scenes?

Hello! I've been busy, so this has taken forever to get to!

I don't always need the guys to bounce around on each other and gyrate enthusiastically for it to out as horny. Oftentimes, I find myself more drawn in by the building desire between the characters, and the explicit acknowledgement of release. I like when the sex feels like it's also revealing something to us about the characters. I've highlighted many of these before, but it's fun to revisit.

Ghost Host, Ghost House Episode 4 Couch Scene

I will never get over this scene, and especially the director's cut of it. These guys knew they liked each other almost instantly, and it was so rewarding to see them reach a place where they could express that. Bonus points for discussing the logistics of gay sex.

This show has been on Gaga and YouTube for a while, but it's also now available on Viki!

La Pluie Episode 6 Floor Scene and Episode 7 Bed Scene

I liked this scene so much that I wrote about it. Again, there's a lot of anticipation between these two, and you can tell how far it's built up because Patts has to dial it back down when Saengtai wants to stop. It's especially important to me because Saengtai does blow Patts in the next episode. If you're on iQIYI, there's an extended cut of that at the end of the video lists.

Mood Indigo: The Post-Funeral Scene

These two are so horrible for each other, but damn are their sex scenes compelling. Theirs are the kinds of scenes only possible between two people you know can never work long term. I was so glad that we got back to Haruhiko in Playback, and the first thing he did was blow Rio in a car. If you haven't seen the Novelist, and you're itching for hornier BL, it's right there.

The End of the World With You "You're Soaked"

From the same team as The Novelsit, we got to experience baby's first fuckboy in this incredible show. Again, I love when we get scenes with couples who aren't ready to work, because they're allowed to have raunchier sex. They get to amp the intensity of the physicality because they need to give a reason why someone was so caught up and missed the warning signs. I actually love the car scene later as a more romantic intimacy scene, but we're focusing on horny here.

Jack o' Frost Birthday Sex

A common theme here with the Japanese offerings is that people are allowed to have more interesting sex scenes right before they split. This is true even in Jack o' Frost. We get a really great oner from the leads that precedes their breakup and Ritsu's accident. I think this might be my favorite of this list because the actors have to build the entire scene together since there aren't any cuts.

Gameboys 2 Bed Scene

Cairo and Gav are one of my favorite pandemic couples we got on screen, and I was quite relieved for them when they finally got to have this moment. We also confirmed they switch, and I love that.

Wedding Plan: Namnuea Showing Off His Stamina

No list for me would be complete without including them. I really loved seeing two gay men go at it after clearing out all of their misunderstandings. They had already had sad goodbye sex. It was thrilling to see them having enthusiastic, athletic sex. This also leads directly to one of my favorite emotional payoffs for a closeted character of all time.

Kiseki: Dear to Me Reunion

The second couple stole this show, but damn if I didn't love the way these two played out sex across multiple years between their characters. These two really suffered, and I really love the way Taro Lin and Hsu Kai captured the changes between these two as Bai Zong Yi grew and matured. This really was a solid sex scene.

Love Class 2: Sungmin and Joo Hyuk

I just really wanna thank them for reassuring me that if Korea wanted to, they could deliver.

Sleep With Me Jeans Scene

I am not a lesbian, but I share their beliefs. This scene was so good. I loved that these two, who have different kinds of disabilities, were able to have a very fun sex scene. I really like when it's clear both characters want to be there.

Only Friends: Boston and Top in the Car

Despite my eventual disdain for this show, I was impressed with Neo and Force for giving this incredibly selfish sex scene between their characters. This entire scene is about injured egos, and it's a standout scene from this show. We won't discuss the rest of the show here.

Thanks for the ask!

[soft-teddybear]

ateez - s/o is insecure about their face

genre: fluff, comfort

cw: insecurities talk.

requested by annon.

summary: ateez when they notice their s/o is insecure about their face, what they’ll say or do.

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction made for entertainment on all and form my personal view of the members with no intention of being rude.

members under the cut.

Seonghwa notice how you didn’t liked to look at the mirror a lot and how you’ll always wear makeup so he decided to ask you about it, it was hard opening up to him about your insecurities but you were so happy that you did because he helped so much. He helped you to identify what exactly made you feel so insecure (call it pimples or other skin issues or just self esteem issues) and work in it to make you feel comfortable with yourself.

Hongjoong is heartbroken when he finds out, so happy and proud in your relationship because you told him, but too sad at the same time, so now is his life work to help you with it, constantly telling you how pretty you look, trying to boost your self confidence and helping you become more happy in how you look on your daily life. If things are too complicated he suggest therapy (even offers to pay for it), he’ll do anything to help you feel better with yourself.

Yunho wants to fix everything talking and helping you feel better but can’t deny that deep inside him he wants to kick the people that made you feel bad, unless it’s s yourself in that case he just wants to hug you. Talks to you every single time you feel low until you figure out why it’s that and until you find a way to feel better. He’s with you on every step of the way, trying to keep you from going back to your original thoughts but helping you ether way if that happens.

Yeosang kind of gets it, with having to hide his birth mark for so long he was a bit insecure about for some time, but because of the support that the fans gave him, he loved it again. So he tries that strategy with you. Telling you how much he loves your face with or without make up at any given chance he has, and if he feels that there’s been a long time since the last chance he found, he makes one then and there. All to help you feel as pretty as you are.

San just wants that you look at your self and see the beauty he sees. So he does everything in his power to help you feel better. From telling you everytime he can how beautiful you are to trying to understand why exactly you feel so bad about yourself. He understands that insecurities can be mean things that doesn’t makes sense so he tries that you don’t feel worst about it by looking for an explanation that might not exist.

Mingi is the only one that suggests therapy as the first option because he knows that mental problems (like low self esteem and insecurities) are hard to get rid of with out the appropriate help and he wants you to get the best of the best. If its also about skin problems he recommends you his favourite skin products, go shopping for them with you or even book a dermatologist appointment he does everything he can to help you feel better.

Wooyoung loves taking selfies with you, even if no one will see them so having to do a lot of convincing every time he wanted a cute pic with you wasn’t something he loved, he did a lot of questions until he understood it was because of your insecurities and then decides do help you in every way he could and not to pressure you too much when you don’t want pictures. Almost cried the first time you had the idea to take a picture in a cute spot.

Jongho tries to keep calm in this type of situations, so he doesn’t says or does anything until he’s completely sure, all because he doesn’t wants to say or do something that will only end up with accidentally make you feel worst so if he suggest going to therapy, to a dermatologist or both or something different is because he’s one hundred percent sure that that’s what’ll help and if it doesn’t he’ll think a lot about it until he finds a better solution.

a/n: and im back, im nor fully sure if im back full time again, but ill try i hope you like it and all feed back is appreciated because i feel rusty.

[kitkathatesu]

𝙇𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙮 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙋𝙩. 2

This is a little longer than the first part<3

𝙋𝘼𝙄𝙍𝙄𝙉𝙂: Billy Hargrove, Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington x Fem!reader

𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂: ❗️SMUT❗️❕MDNI❕Use of drugs/alcohol, mean!Billy, dom!Billy, sub!reader, 3some without penetration (besides Billy of course), cucking, p in v, fingering (f receiving), degradation+praise, spanking, some overstim (f receiving), overall filth

𝙎𝙐𝙈𝙈𝘼𝙍𝙔: It seems as though you never learn your lesson, so Billy decides to invite Steve and Eddie over himself this time. Completely unannounced to you, they show up for what Billy referred to as a “get together.” But little did you know that Billy’s plans included far more than just a sack of green and a couple 6 packs to share with your “friends.”

☾ ✪ ༄ ✯ ༆ ✯ ༄ ✪ ☽

It’s about 4:00 in the afternoon, you’re lying on the couch with a magazine between your fingers. Soft rays of sunshine peaking through the blinds in Billy’s living room while Cherry Bomb plays through the radio perched on an end table across from you. A box fan sat on the floor a couple inches away, swirling around the thick summer heat and smell of beer that seems to always be sitting stale in the air.

It has been almost an hour since he’d left saying he had some “business” to take care of, which isn’t necessarily weird of him considering all of the shit he gets himself into. But you decide to brush it off flipping through the pages, skimming over an article about how men are naturally more jealous than women.

“Hah, sounds like someone I know.” You scoff. Rolling your body over the side of the couch to make your way into the kitchen. You go to reach for the landline on the wall, but you’re immediately met with arms wrapped tightly around you from behind. The smell of cigarettes engulfing you as a sloppy kiss is pressed to the side of your face. Making you scream loud enough for the whole town of Hawkins to hear.

“BILLY what the fuck?! I didn’t even hear you come in.”

You know there’s a grin plastered on his stupid face. So you turn to scold him, but he’s just staring at you. The emotion behind his eyes is scarce, but his body language is screaming frustration.

“I’ve got a surprise for you.” He mutters. A spark of excitement running through you but anxiety following not to far behind.

“Oh yeah? What kind of surprise huh? The sexy kind?” You smirk, wrapping your hand around the back of his neck. Coursing your fingertips through the bottom of his curls, gently pulling him in towards you for a kiss but he pulls back almost instantly. Causing you to scowl at him.

“Not so fast little girl. I’ve gotta get things going before I change my mind.”

“What do you mean? You’ve been gone for an hour, didn’t tell me where you were going-“

Billy chuckles. Cutting you off as he tips your chin up with his thumb and index finger. His gaze never leaving yours as he holds you there, your face melting into his touch.

You know he’s about to be a smartass.

“I don’t have to tell you where I’m going princess. As a matter’a fact, why don’t you give one of your friends a call? Seems like you’d rather talk to them than have fun with me anyway.”

“You’re such a baby”, you utter to yourself.

But you’ve gotta admit since last months escapade you have talked to them a lot more than you had before.. It’s like you’re connected more now than you ever were. Comfortable on a level you never knew you could reach.

You feel guilty in a sense too. Dirty that you’d let them see you in such a vulnerable state. And the fact that Billy was toying with you purposely for his own pleasure and using them as a prop to get himself off makes your stomach cave in on itself.

“Well for your information, I was about to before you scared the absolute shit out of me.” You spew with a sarcastic tone.

He just laughs and places one hand on his hip and the other on the bar next to the sink. Leaning his body weight against it.

“Is that so? Won’t you go ahead and do that then. Let’s see if they answer since you’re so sure they even wanna fucking talk to you.”

His eyes lit up with a bitter stare as a fist balls up at his side, his jaw clenching, probably dying to throw some more shit your way. Typical Billy.

Your first thought was to rip him a new one for the unexpected attitude, but you stay quiet. Trying not to crack a sarcastic smile as his voice drips with the exact thing you’d read about in that article just earlier. 𝙅𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙮.

“Oh Billy, you and me both know they’d 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 to.” You purr out to him, the words flowing out of your mouth with zero remorse.

But deep down you knew you’d be eating those words at some point today. His eyes like daggers as they seem to pierce right through you.

Billy finally breaks the silence between you. Lunging forward with his hands now tightly wrapped around your waist ripping a gasp from you. His fingernails digging into the skin there as a wicked grin plays across his lips.

“We all know why too.” He pauses, his tone much darker and cold.

“You’re a needy little whore. A set of holes begging to be used by anyone who’ll throw some cock your way.”

You stand there unmoving. Trying to look anywhere but his face as your body seethes with anger, every word bouncing off your skull like a punch to the face.

Billy’s demeanor begins to change. His smile softens and he loosens his hold as he tilts his head to the side, catching a glimpse of that anger you’re trying your damndest to hold in but can’t hide worth a shit.

“Come on doll, don’t get all worked up on me now. Y’know I’m just playing with you.”

“Playing or not, you can shove that surprise right up your ass Hargrove.”

Billy mocks you with a fake pout. A loud cackle echoing out into the room after your measly attempt to lash back at him.

“Well it’s a good goddamn thing your 𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙚 will be on its way soon then huh?” He sneers, giving you a quick pat on your ass before leaning down to meet the shell of your ear.

“Ya’better cool off while you can sweetheart, you’re gonna need it.”

His words cause a chill to run down your spine. You squirm where you stand as he pulls back to face you, his features so pretty and lust like. It’s so fucking frustrating. You can’t stay mad at him. No matter how bad you’d like to smack that smirk right off of his face, the urge to ride it suppresses all others.

“Now I gotta go pick up a couple things alright? Might take me awhile, so uh.. Don’t wait up.” He winks at you, quickly making his way towards the back door where he’d snuck in earlier.

“But Billy- Wait a fucking minute, you just got back??” You yelp, rushing after him as he makes it halfway outside onto the patio.

“And? I said I’ll be back, so do me a favor and put some lipstick on those pretty lips of yours. Might take some of the ugly off of em.”

You roll your eyes at him as he walks around the side of the house, arms crossed over your stomach. A long sigh dragging out of your mouth as you stomp back into the kitchen. The sound of his Camaro roaring down the street making your brain rattle.

“Fucking asshole” you blurt out into the empty room.

He always has to have the last word, and what’s annoying is you let him. There’s never a day or night where you fully lash out at him. Even when he’s the biggest douche bag in the world. Is it because you love him? Well duh, but goddamn do you hate him sometimes too.

So you stand there, back against the wall facing the landline in front of you. The words you’d spat out earlier playing back through your mind.

“𝙊𝙝 𝘽𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙮, 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙄 𝙗𝙤𝙩𝙝 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮'𝙙 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙤." Because you know they would. They call you anytime they get the chance.

And that’s all it took for you to grab the phone and dial Eddie’s number. It rings and rings, the cord wrapped around your free hand while the other holds the speaker tightly to your ear.

𝙍𝙄𝙉𝙂, 𝙍𝙄𝙉𝙂, 𝙍𝙄𝙉𝙂

(𝙒𝙚'𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙮, 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙫𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙖𝙫𝙖𝙞𝙡𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚, 𝙩𝙧𝙮 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙧)

You hang up. Confused and a bit nervous you ponder on the things Eddie usually has going on throughout the week but it’s Friday. After band practice he is usually free for the rest of the day, unless he has a customer or two looking to buy some flower. But even then if you call he makes time regardless of who’s around. So maybe something came up.

“Okay well, let’s try Steve. His shift at Scoops is well over by now.” You sigh, bringing the phone back up to your ear for the second time. Clutching it in your hand patiently waiting for his voice to pick up on the other end.

𝙍𝙄𝙉𝙂, 𝙍𝙄𝙉𝙂, 𝙍𝙄𝙉𝙂

“𝙃𝙚𝙮, 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙎𝙩𝙚𝙫𝙚. 𝙎𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙮 𝙄 𝙙𝙞𝙙𝙣'𝙩 𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙘𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡, 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙖𝙜𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙄'𝙡𝙡 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙄 𝙘𝙖𝙣.”

(𝘼𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙤𝙣𝙚, 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙖𝙜𝙚. 𝙒𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙨𝙞𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙮 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙪𝙥 𝙤𝙧 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙤𝙥𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨)

𝘽𝙀𝙀𝙋//: “Hey Stevie, it’s me. Just wanted to see what you were up to today, hit me back when you can. I’ll talk to you later.”

You place the phone back on its jack. 10x more confused now and a little sad that neither of them answered when you know they’re hardly busy around this time. Maybe Billy was right, could you be annoying them with how much you’ve been calling? How long you talk. Are you being too clingy?? What’s the deal?

Your brain is going 1,000 miles an hour trying to pick through what could be wrong if anything. Hoping that whatever it is you’re not the problem and that it’s all in your head. But most of all that Billy isn’t right. Cause one thing for sure, his ego never fails to get in the way of his judgment. And if there’s one thing you can do is rub it in his face later.

☾ ✪ ༄ ✯ ༆ ✯ ༄ ✪ ☽

By the time you stopped worrying yourself half to death, you’d decided to put on a movie and kick back till Billy got home. Legs propped up on the arm of the couch, hands clutching a small bowl of popcorn. Watching intently as things start to get a little tense, fixated on the screen until you hear a loud knock at the door.

“What the fuck?” You ask yourself out loud but under your breath.

Your heart starting to pound in your chest because you know Billy would just barge on in. So who the fuck could this be?

You sit the popcorn down and slowly tippy toe towards the door, trying to get a good look at whoever this could be through the peep hole. But all you can make out is that it’s a man which causes a surge of adrenaline to wash over you.

“Who is it?!” You shout. Their voice is muffled but weirdly familiar.

“It’s me pretty girl, open up will ya? Kinda chilly out here and this flower isn’t going to smoke itself.” Eddie coos out to you, that deep seated giggle ringing in your ears as he stands outside the door with his hands in his pockets when you sling the door open to greet him.

“I- Oh my God hi!” You squeak out, a mousy shyness engulfing you as those doe eyes stare back into your own.

“I had no idea you were coming, I thought you’d be at band practice with the boys?”

“Eh, I got an hour or two of kicking ass in, might as well spend the rest of my evening with my favorite twerp.” He smiles brightly as you step aside to let him in, immediately shedding himself of his denim jacket. Not wasting another second standing, he throws himself onto the sofa. Motioning for you to sit down.

You anxiously take the seat next to him but you’re sure to keep a couple inches between you. Sucking in a sharp breath as you gather the courage to start a conversation.

“So, what made you decide to visit? I was sure you’d be busy.”

Eddie glances over at you tray already in hand with a joint in the making. Twisting it between his fingers, cocking an eyebrow at your question as he licks the top of the paper sealing it in. Holding it between his fingers.

“You telling me California didn’t tell you I was coming?” He chuckles, placing the joint between his lips. Lighting it and quickly taking a drag before handing it to you.

“…WHAT??”

You almost stop breathing when it hits you. Causing you to drop the joint in the floor, you chase after it with hurried hands hoping the cherry doesn’t burn the carpet.

“Billy invited you?.. Seriously? Come on, don’t fuck with me Ed boy.” You scoff. Nudging him with your shoulder.

“I’m not shitting you-“ Is all Eddie manages to choke out before another knock at the door startles you both.

“Now who the fuck is this?!” You jump up strutting your way back over to the door, swinging it open to reveal Steve standing there with a 12 pack of beer.

“Hey legs, how goes it? I hope you don’t mind, I brought some refreshments.” He grins, showing the carton of Budweiser off to you with a small shake. Causing the glass bottles to rattle against each other.

“I- Steve, what exactly are you doing here?” You ask. Your voice a bit shaky as you glance over to Eddie then back to the tall, lanky, bouncy haired boy standing in front of you. The one who seems to always be searching for something when he looks at you.

He grins to himself, pausing for a moment as he notices Eddie sprawled out on the couch behind you.

“Did I come at a bad time or what?” Steve asks, peaking over your shoulder waving to Eddie.

You quickly usher him in by his wrist closing the door behind you. Your brain scrambling to try and find an explanation behind this, you make your way into the living room. Plopping down on the sofa, letting out a long sigh as Steve takes the empty seat on the other side of you.

A lump forms in your throat as both boys now sit on either side of you. Their colognes clashing in your chest as you breathe them in, totally different but diffusing so perfectly.

“What’s got you so worked up pretty?” Steve asks with a hint of hesitation in his voice. Leaning his elbows into his knees as he tries to meet your eyes, Eddie doing the same on the opposite side of you but with a light graze of his fingertips across the top of your thigh.

“C’mon, no sense in trying to hide sweetheart. Can’t be getting shy on us now. Yeah?” Eddie’s warm smile gleams in your peripherals causing a rush of heat to creep onto your cheeks.

Your body reacting to them so much already that it’s making your stomach ache. Knotting itself up as Steve takes a beer from the carton and cracks it open, Eddie doing the same as they start to ramble back and forth behind you. Making you that much more nervous as a familiar rumble of a vehicle comes screeching up the road all at the same time.

You go still, part of you subconsciously hoping that it’s all in your head till you hear a door slam from outside.

Scurrying up off the sofa you grab the boys by their forearms, both of their weight working against you as you try to pull them up off of the cushions, their beer spilling out onto the floor in the midst of your panic. Knowing Billy will be walking through that door any second ready to swing on the first person he sees.

“It was good seeing you both. But y’all have GOT to go. Billy is going to fucking FREAK if he comes in here and sees you both without him even knowing-“

The front door flings open and smacks the wall beside it causing you to drop Eddie and Steve back onto the sofa. Your eyes growing wide as you quickly look over to see Billy standing across from you with a smirk plastered on his face. His tongue darting out to wet his lips.

Eddie and Steve seeming to have the same response as you, the whole room goes dead silent. Anxiety building as Billy continues to stare, after what feels like a lifetime you take a couple step towards him with your arms held out. Immediately consoling him as if you’d committed some sort of crime.

“Listen, before you get upset just listen-“

“Listen to what?” Billy belts out. That same crooked smile still hanging on his lips as he closes in on you, his leather covered arms draping around your waist.

Your back now turned to them, the uncertainty of what’s going to happen next causes your body to vibrate with a sea of emotions. You swallow the lump in your throat that’s formed again to sputter out a response.

“I- I had no idea they were coming. I thought you had some sort of business to take care of, so I just sat around and watched a movie. They showed up out of nowhere. Please don’t be ma-.” He cuts you off with a gentle caress to the your cheek. Causing your eyebrows to furrow in confusion.

“Baby, I’m not mad. Hell not even a little bit.”

“But you- What? What do you mean?” You turn your head slightly to catch a glimpse of the boys, but your head is jerked back by your cheeks now being squished together in a pout.

“Come on, don’t be stupid.” Billy sneers pulling your face closer to his own. His breath coated in what smells like bourbon and the obvious cigarette, you can’t help but wonder what he’d really been up to tonight.

“I’m not being fucking stupid, I don’t know what’s going on.”

Your voice cracks in your throat as your lungs fill up to the brim with fire. Jaw tightening at the anticipation, trying not to explode in heap of anger and disarray as Billy stands there with that same smug expression.

“Are you going to explain what the fuck is happening?? Or are you going to stand there with that stupid look on your face.” You shout at him, the occasional rush of adrenaline zapping your insides as you try to hold yourself together.

His hand drops from your cheeks to your hand, his thumb gently gliding over your knuckles as he brings it up to his mouth pressing a gentle kiss there.

“Sweet, naive, little thing.” Billy taunts, guiding you against his chest with his hands now resting on your hips, breath hot against the side of your face. His lips closing in on the shell of your ear, you can’t help but bite your lip.

“Ah.. I thought for sure you woulda’ caught on by now. This is all for you.”

Your eyes widen, a shiver runs down your spine, and you quickly pull back from him. Turning to Steve and then to Eddie, searching their faces for any answer you could but their expressions were just as empty as your own.

“All for me?? What exactly do you mean by that? I- You know what? This is just too fucking much, I don’t understand..”

Steve speaks up as you stand there muttering to yourself. Trying his best to make things a little more comfortable for you before it gets anymore out of hand than it already has.

“Well actually, we were told- Or Ed’s was told that we were invited to come hang for a bit. Billy called me early this morning and don’t get me wrong I was surprised he even knew my number, but I guess I figured it was your idea.”

He runs a nervous hand through his hair as Eddie chimes in.

“See! That’s what I tried to choke out earlier when I’d first got here and rolled that spliff, but you were far from listening so.. I thought you were messing around.”

You pace back and forth. Hands planted on top of your head, heart pounding in your chest. Practically drowning in your own pool of apprehensions.

Billy still stands in front of you. An eyebrow cocked upwards, his tongue tracing the sides of his mouth. Your eyes meeting his amongst the chaos transpiring within you, and the look behind them scares you. They’re almost black, pupils blown out, eager to eat you up.

He looks like a man starved of all emotion other than some twisted up desire. And with every neuron firing against their will begging you not to let what you know to be true get the best of you, your body is pleading for you to invite it in.

“So-“ Billy clears his throat. Placing both hands on your shoulders, ultimately pulling you out of your daze as he turns you around to face the boys who are anxiously sitting on the sofa across from you. All you can do is stare at them.

“Since I’d assume you’ve all caught the gist of things by now, whatd’ya say we play a game?Really get this party started.”

“Sure, I like games.” Steve concurs.

“Eh I guess, but- Ow!” Eddie answered with a bit of hesitation till he felt the sting of Steve’s elbow digging into his rib cage.

“Fuck it, let’s do it.” He agreed, an awkward smirk poking at the corner of his mouth.

Billy grips his fingers into your shoulders giving them a rub before lowering his face down into the crease of your neck. Placing a couple sloppy kisses there, each one leaving the smell of whiskey and want behind.

Eddie chuckles nervously. Beer in hand, looking around at everyone in the room before taking a sip. Trying to tear through the thickening tension swirling around the room.

“So uh, what kind of game you got in mind?”

You stand still. Almost afraid to breathe as Billy’s hands begin trailing down your arms, his calloused fingers gripping into your skin ever so slightly. That almost predatory grin pricking at the corner of his lips as he finally answers.

“What’a bout truth or dare?”

You suck in a breath. Trying to prepare yourself for what this little game of his is leading up to. Your knees trembling at the thought. This time you know it’ll be worse, much much worse.

Steve chuckles to himself. Beer bottle clutched lazily in his hand with his back leaned against the couch. His brown eyes lightly draping down your body as you stand there with that doe in headlights look on your face stiff as a board in Billy’s arms.

“I won’t attest to that. M’pretty good at it myself, like taking risks.” Cockiness laced in his voice Eddie flashes a smirk. Billy’s jaw simultaneously clenches, catching onto the familiar challenge Steve’s brought between them before. 𝙔𝙤𝙪.

“Alright Harrington, since you’re so quick to suck your own dick let’s kick it up a notch yeah?”

Steve nods, tipping his head back finishing off his beer. Eddie staying quiet except for the shit eating grin plastered on his face exhuming just how amused he is with the way Steve has Billy questioning himself. His “authority”, his dominance. Like a couple dogs over a bitch in heat. Can’t say he don’t blame them.

“Same shit really. But anytime you’re dared to do something or answer a question and you fail to do so, you ditch a piece of clothing.”

You’re done for as Eddie and Steve look to each other sharing a sickening snicker, causing your whole body to feel like it’s caught fire and your belly to churn. What the fuck have you gotten yourself into? I mean why is he so fond of this idea out of nowhere? It doesn’t make sense.

“So I don’t even get a say so? Great, this is total bullsh- FUCK!” You grasp at your throat as Billy’s hand is now wrapped completely around it closing off your airway.

A dark chuckle rumbling in his chest as his breath fans against your neck, his face practically smashed to the side of your head. Holding you flush against him, his thumb and pointer finger dancing over your pulse points.

“What was that baby?” He says with a long inhale and exhale, a growl reverberating through your bones as he grazes his teeth against your earlobe. His grip tightening around your windpipe pushing a pathetic whimper out of your lungs.

“Awh, that’s right. You can’t breathe.” He moves you side to side roughly, your head swaying back and forth like a bobble head on a shelf.

Fuck- You’re already submitting. At least your body is with the heat between your legs spreading like wildfire, your pussy already clenching around nothing.

“B-Billy please.” You stutter between broken breaths, your hand desperately trying to break you free from his grasp but there’s no chance you’re slipping out of this one. Not without a mark or two that is.

His hand rips itself away from your throat and he peers at Steve then Eddie over your shoulder. Motioning them over with a nod.

“Wait- What?” Eddie scoffed. Steve stares at Billy bewildered before he nudges his elbow into the brunettes ribs once more. “Just get up dumb ass.”

Oh my God. No no no. “Wait a second!” You stammered, your legs wobbly and weak as both boys saunter over to you. Billy’s body still flush against yours from behind.

“Shhh baby. This is what you wanted right?” He drawled, your back arching into his chest as the air around you thickens and you feel like you could suffocate. Maybe you are, maybe you will.

Steve stands to your left and Eddie to your right. Their eyes glued to you like they’re starving to see more, ready to rip you to shreds. Billy revels in the way your body trembles against him, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip with anticipation as he slides his fingertips underneath your shirt. Grazing your navel.

“Truth or dare?” Billy chuckled.

“Truth-“ You gulped. Jaw tightening and chest heaving with each breath. “Is it true you’d let me fuck you in front of them?” You try to speak but a whine is pulled out of you as Billy’s hand dips into your underwear. Running his middle finger through your folds, collecting the slick that’s soaked your panties and is sticky against the back of his hand as he continues to tease you. “Thought so.” He divulged.

“Holy fuck..” Steve sighed, his mouth parting slightly as he watches your face contort with pleasure. Eddie giggles nervously with his head cocked to the side, studying the way your nipples glide against the thin fabric of your shirt with each movement. Mouth watering at the thought of them between his teeth.

“Yes.” You mewl, your head loling back hitting Billy’s chest with a thud. Your heavy eyes flutter shut as he drags his fingertips upwards rubbing slow circles into your clit. “You gonna let them watch? Get a real good look at how desperate you are for my cock?”

“Uh huh.” You purr. Mind hazy with lust as all the worries you had before melt away into nothing but mush behind your eyes as they roll back. “Oh fuck- Billy!”

“Fuck no.” He spits. Hissing through gritted teeth as he pulls his hand out of your panties. Your mouth opens to plead with him and your lips are immediately met by his fingers shoved between them.

The taste of you heavy on your tongue as he forces them into the back of your throat. Eliciting a gag from you. “You don’t get to even think about cumming unless I say so. Got that?” His face is stern but his pupils are blown so wide that you can barely see the baby blue behind them.

You nod in response. Eddie hums to himself, his chocolate brown eyes boring into you. A lust drunken smile creeps onto your face.

“Billy man.. I gotta tell ya, you’re fuckin’ lucky. Babe like that? Hard to come by.” Steve’s eyes widen and he almost chokes in embarrassment. “Come on Munson, don’t make it weird.” It’s fucking weird already. Might as well enjoy it.

“If ya haven’t noticed.. It’s already a bit freaky.” Eddie snickered, nose crinkling up with a shit eating grin. Steve rolled his eyes only to tilt his head to get a better look at you, your face flushed and pretty chest rising and falling rapidly with what he can only assume is building desperation.

“Y/N?” Steve asked with raised eyebrows, lips parted slightly. “Can.. I touch you?” Billy scoffed and before you could react to either of them Billy’s fist curls into the fabric of Steve’s sweater, dragging him to stumble directly in front of you with eyes so wide that you can see how long his lashes are tickling his eyebrows. “Who the fuck are you to ask her? Ain’t ya gonna ask me? I’m the reason you’re here, remember?” Billy barked through gritted teeth.

Steve placed his hands up with a chuckle and shaky breath, unable to move now as Billy stayed practically nose to nose with him. You’re now sandwiched between them, legs wobbly and heart pounding wildly at the closeness. “Hey.. Hey guys?” You asked meekly, both men towering over you with their eyes locked.

“Can I touch her?” Steve asked smugly, cocking his head when he spoke. Hands still held up high and Eddie frozen where he stands, eyebrows raised and a sweaty palm holding his mouth shut so that he doesn’t bust out laughing. “I don’t know Harrington, ya gonna be able to without cumming in your pants?”

You chuckle at that and they both stop and stare dead at you. Well fuck. “What the fuck are you laughing at?” Billy’s eyes squinted down at your expression, Steve scoffed and his dimples were prominent as he smiled smugly. “Think she thought that was funny.”

“Fuck you.” Billy spat at him, only to turn his attention back to you. “Ya want him to touch you?” He asked gruffly, his tongue prodding at the inside of his cheek waiting to see how you react. You swallow harshly and you look up at him through heavy lashes, glancing over at Steve who stood just inches away. “Yes.”

“Then it’s settled gentlemen. Let the man touch her for God’s sake.” Eddie contended, “Might as well get to it. Right? Ladies obviously dyin’ for something. Look at her face.” You shot Munson a glare between the two of them but your face softened when Steve’s fingers reached out and grasped your chin, titling your gaze to him.

“He’s right ya know, could tell how needy you were for us the first time this happened.” Billy rolled his eyes and snaked an arm around your waist, his bulge hard against the thin fabric of your pajama bottoms.

“Ain’t that a bitch huh?” He murmured hotly into your ear, nudging his nose along the shell of it with a growl. “I’m not the only one who can tell you’re desperate Y/N, should be ashamed of yourself really.” You couldn’t take much more of this back and forth bullshit. If this was happening, it was happening now.

You swayed your hips gently, Billy’s cock twitching at the friction when you spoke. “M’tired of waiting. Someone better do something or y’all can fuck each other for all I care.” They all snickered at that and your shorts were ripped down your thighs in a matter of seconds. Billy’s boot thudding against your ankle spreading your legs, Steve’s big hand still holding your face gently between thumb and forefinger. “Only one fucking you is me sweetheart, they’ll be lucky to get a handful of your tits let alone buried inside you.”

Your eyes widened when your cunt is exposed to the air around you, Billy’s fingers easily ripping through the lace of your panties. “Now be a good girl and let me hear ya beg for it”, Billy drawled. Your stomach coiling up into a knot when you felt the head of his cock poking at your entrance, your slick making it no challenge for him to slide in but he refrains.

“Billy- I.. I-“ You stutter and Steve pushes your lips into a pout, inching his face towards yours with a wicked smirk. “Nuh uh, look at me. Tell me how bad you wanna be stuffed full.” Oh, holy fuck. His words make you mewl and your back arch, the tip of Billy’s length barely slipping between your folds when you do so.

Billy’s hands grab your hips roughly to keep you upright, though it’s not like you’d fall with Steve practically caging you in. Forcing you to stare at him as your cunt drools for him, Eddie, and Billy all at the same time. It’s filthy. “Oh Steve!” You moan, brows pinching together and your mouth falling slack when Billy pushes all the way inside you. You don’t even notice Eddie is closer now, his eyes glued to where you and Billy are connected.

“Goddamn, she looks tight.” Eddie rasped, licking his lips like a man starved. He bent down and wrapped his ring clad fingers around your inner thigh, admiring the glistening sheen that’s coated your pussy as Billy thrusts in and out of you at a steady pace. “Best pussy I’ve ever had.” Billy groaned, his fingers digging hard into the plush of your love handles.

God you’re ruined. You’ll never recover from the rush of this, never be able to touch yourself to anything else at night. How could you when the pad of Eddie’s thumb now rubs soft circles into your clit, Billy’s balls deep inside you, and Steve holds your blissed out face in his hand while he etches this moment into his brain forever. His cock throbbing painfully in his jeans, the need to kiss you almost overbearing but he wanted to watch you writhe as much as Billy did.

After all, you’ve tortured him for years now. Never giving him a chance nor acknowledging his advances, though you’d always noticed them. Why should you get to have all the fun? Especially now. “What’sa matter pretty girl? Can’t talk?” Steve cooed, Eddie hummed in response as he traced over your clit agonizingly slow. Collecting your slick that’s seeping out of your pussy that’s stretched around Billy’s cock.

“Oh- Oh fuck, please please please.” You babbled, Billy chuckles darkly at the pathetic sounds that emanate out of your mouth with a sadistic smile. Overstimulation starting to settle in the pit of your stomach. Your cunt aching and clenching around him with each push, pull, and drag of the men’s hands on you. “You can talk, well that’s good. Not completely cock drunk yet, but you’re almost there, aren’t you baby?”

“Y-Yes, ah!” You hiss, a new sensation sending chills ripping up your spine when Billy’s hand comes down harshly against the plush of your ass. All rosy and red, flushed just like your cheeks as you keep your eyes on Steve. You can tell he wants you, wants to take Billy’s place or shove his cock down your throat with the way his lip curls up and his pupils are blown wide. “Fuckin’ slut, I can feel you clenching around me. Shit- Ah yeah, you gonna cum? Huh?”

Billy’s voice is gravelly and bellowing behind you, his hips now pistoning into your already sensitive slit as he bends over your back. His lips pressed to the shell of your ear, cock buried deeper than before hitting that sweet spot with each slap of your ass rippling back against him. “Yeah man, she’s gettin’ real fuckin’ wet down here. She’s leaking onto the floor.” Eddie almost salivating at the way your pussy takes a cock so well, swollen clit throbbing beneath his thumb. “Be a good girl yeah? Cum for me.”

Billy growled at that, his eyes darkening as he glared at Steve over your shoulder. “Shut up Harrington, only one she’ll be cumming for is me. On my cock, not yours.” He chuckled breathlessly, his voice bordering on a whine as he came closer and closer to the edge. And he revels in the way he can tell you’re getting closer too, but only he can feel your pretty cunt pulsing around him. He had to remind them that this would be the closest they’ll ever get to the real thing.

“I’m- M’gonna cuuuumm!” You squeal, every word emphasized by the almost painful orgasm that sends your vision into a haze. It doesn’t come in waves, it feels like it’s never going to stop. Your eyes roll back, mouth cocks open, and your pussy spasms uncontrollably along with your whole body. They were using you.

“That’s right bitch, fuck me back.” You didn’t even realize your hips were grinding his cock in and out of your soaked cunt, Eddie’s thumb replaced by his middle and ring finger milking out every last drop of slick that he could from you as you rode out your high. Steve never once letting go of your cheeks, keeping your fucked out face right in view so that he could cum to the thought of it later. “So fucking sexy like this Y/N, you should see yourself.” And if you could see yourself you’d realize just how nasty you are.

“Shit, baby just like that-“ Billy croned, his head tipping back with a drawn out groan. “Pussy’s gonna make me cum.” Your ears perk up at that and a wicked grin plays at your lips, wanting nothing more than to be filled full while Steve and Eddie withered away to nothing more than a bunch of gooners. “Cocks so good Billy- Want you to fuck me full.”

“Hear that boys?” Billy laughed boisterously, chest rising and falling rapidly with a fucked out smile on his face. “She wants my cum, she fuckin’ needs it. Ain’t that right doll?” His hips snapped up into you hard, slamming against your cervix making you jolt and cry out. “Ah, ahh yes! Fuck yes, please.”

“Here you go baby, nice and fuckin’ deep.” Billy hissed, his thrusts becoming sloppy and unrhythmic when he paints yours insides pearly white with his cum. Hots spurts spilling into you and seeping out around his cock, Eddie’s mouth dropped open in an O almost tempted to taste but he knows better. “Look at you, taking it so well.” Steve spat sickeningly sweet, the smell of booze on his breath making you fawn as you watched hunger burn behind those lovestruck eyes.

But you’re knocked smooth out of your hazy little world and brought back when Billy pulls out and leaves a mixture of your cum and his dripping on the floor beneath you. Eddie pushing himself up off of his knees and Steve stepping away about an inch or two, their arms crossed over their stomachs and cocks hard and on display in their jeans. Billy wipes himself clean with the bottom of his shirt, typical Billy and doesn’t say much else. Just finds the nearest lighter and pulls a cigarette out of a box of Marlboro’s, letting it hang loosely from his lips as he lit it and took a long drag.

“Hope you boys got your fill, I know I did.”

[thecheshirerat]

On TAZ-

Wow that sounds like I’m about to summarize some sort of discourse but I promise I’m not. I guess I’ll say that I really like this show and I will keep listening even if my worst fears come to pass, so keep that in mind!

For reference, I started listening near the end of Amnesty.

I’ve noticed, with the past few arcs- really since Ethersea- the narratives have just… not been fulfilling their promises, so to speak. They’ve been placing a lot of guns that don’t go off. What I mean by that is, the characters are great. Excellent, really. Lady Godwin? HELL YES. Emerich Dreadway? Fuck yeah! And so on! And the settings and premises have been epic- the goofiness and also horrifying nature of Engrave, the mad and thrilling world of Steeplechase- these things are COOL AS FUCK.

and then the actual narratives keep flopping?

And honestly, I notice it most in the endings, because you can really tell when an ending doesn’t land. You feel the sense of disappointment. But with vs. Dracula, for example, I could kinda see leading up to it that the ending couldn’t really BE anything special, because they lowkey didn’t set themselves up for it.

They spent the campaign fucking around in Engrave, finding clues and solving problems and not really experiencing any particularly meaningful character arcs or growth or, idk, forming relationships? So there wasn’t much to pay off, I’m not gonna lie!

Of course it doesn’t feel quite as dissatisfying when you’re in the thick of it, because they’re funny and the stuff is cool and- oh hey! Lady Godwin’s been turned into a werehorse against her will?? that’s got some real potential for a LOT of allegories and exploration of some fun character development! And then it’s kinda played as a joke. And then they do that again and again.

And they actually said that that was a move they made intentionally, in the TTAZZ. I’m not quoting them perfectly here, this is from memory, but I do remember them mentioning that they wanted lighthearted comedy without the burden of real life story stuff. And I get that, honestly, but… it’s not the choice I would’ve made. I do think you can keep a lighthearted tone while also, idk, forming relationships and wholesomely engaging with some amount of emotion. And sometimes going way too deep is funny as a tone shift!

But I digress. One thing that’s also popped out to me is the almost complete lack of any kind of romantic storyline or even references. This becomes obvious if you’re in a fandom because everyone is always dying to ship SOMEONE, and you can tell when people are really getting desperate. I don’t blame them for not wanting to roleplay romance with their family, and I do think stories lacking romance are COOL and SHOULD BE ENCOURAGED!

However if you can’t find ANYBODY to ship together… that may mean you just don’t have character bonds. The growing popularity of the PC polycule is interesting to me; I wonder if it’s partially because

a) none of the pcs have significant relationships outside of their party and

b) even within the party, there doesn’t seem to be much chemistry between any given pair of characters…? I hope I’m making my point well here- the PCs all seem equally close and have more or less the same relationship to all of their compatriots with little distinction, meaning, essentially, no shipping fodder that doesn’t involve just all of ‘em.

Either way, it makes me wonder if I can blame the “Graduation has too many NPCs!” critique. They really stopped giving the parties tag-along main NPCs after graduation, with the exception of maybe.. Urchin? Kodira? Shlabethany? Poppy? and even they get relatively little “screen” time. Steeplechase has great NPCs, I love them to death, but none of the PCs seem to ever have one on one conversations with NPCs or each other that do not explicitly focus on the plot. And I think that’s part of why the characters feel so underdeveloped despite having spent a lot of time with them- because in this character-driven genre, we get very little insight into their feelings or motivations or even their rudimentary backstories.

I started watching Fantasy High recently and it made me realize a couple things about TAZ.

1) Recently, TAZ has sooo few core NPCs, and it’s weird that the characters aren’t doing more one-on-one purely character based scenes. And that makes it really tough to develop them.

2) TAZ is- and I should have realized this before- one of many good dnd podcasts. They’re probably looking for a niche they can master.

And it sounds like they’re trying to get back to that old “Here there be Gerblins!” energy. They’ve referenced it so many times in recent TTAZZes- they wanted to be job-focused, allowing story stuff to happen organically, so they tried a more open world vibe with Ethersea. They wanted to be less afraid to kill stuff, so they tried playing criminals (and were still afraid to kill stuff). They wanted to be silly and light on character, as they tackled with taz vs dracula. Now they’re trying to bring in the silly cartoon vibe with Abnimals. I think they’re trying to make that family-friendly, funny and goofy show their niche. Something other actual plays can’t be better at them at.

And honestly it kinda makes me sad, that they keep trying to go back to Balance while ignoring everything they learned during it. Because I loved Dust. Because I loved Amnesty. Because I loved Ethersea. I loved these past arcs! But they keep doing their brilliant characters dirty for some reason!!! And i don’t know why!!!!

You know that meme about people who ask questions in movies and then the person responds “Have you ever been to a movie before? You watch them and the information is revealed.” There have been so many times in TAZ recently where information has Not been revealed and if they keep doing it the audience will stop bothering to suspend their disbelief, because the trust just isn’t there.

What is Montrose’s deal? What on earth was Carmine Denton’s whole thing? Tell me more about Zoox’s feelings, about Devo’s past, about Amber’s future. Show me how Lady Godwin feels about the body horror that is her life- like, seriously! WHY DID WE HAVE TO COMPLETELY DISMISS THE OPPORTUNITY TO DISCUSS GENERATIONAL TRAUMA IN MUTT’S LIFE FOR A JOKE??

Do you remember in Steeplechase where the boys were getting medical attention or something- i don’t remember, but they were all in one room and only talking about The Plot. And Poppy literally banged on the door (speaking for both Justin and me, tbh) and was like “does anyone want to share any feeeeelings??” and they were like NOPE! and they moved on!!

like. cmon. you can’t just put a character like montrose out there and then leave them severely underdeveloped to the point that what would be interesting in proper context, with audience insight, becomes confusing and chaotic.

I just wish they would take their stories as seriously as we do.

It feels to me like they don’t believe in themselves, and it makes me sad. Maybe they didn’t get the response they wanted from Ethersea and so they’ve been trying to pivot, hoping to recapture whatever it was that earned them a loyal audience.

Again, I love them. They’re so funny and I’ll keep listening until the day they stop making this show, and when it happens I’ll cry.

But i KNOW they have more in them. Remember the “we’ll grow gills” monologue from Justin in the Prologues? Remember Travis’s SOLID acting with Devo? Or his awesome choice to give Lyndon/Beef a clearly delineated work/irl identity? His excellent narration and prose? Remember when Montrose described being lonely?! Remember all those moments where Shit Got Real and you cared??? The nanofather said some dope shit! dracula and victor and sweater dracula had such a wild dynamic! Clint’s acting in Dust 2- I can’t remember the characters name right now- was ASTOUNDING, I genuinely didn’t know he had that in him and it blew me away!

I’m not referencing Balance on purpose, both because the fandom is way to hung up on it and because I want to prove that you don’t even have to look at Balance, or even Post-Balance arcs, to see this kind of good cool stuff!

GAAAAAAAGHHHH!!! I want them to have fun. But also. We’re starving out here.

[shepherds-of-haven]

How would the ROs rate their own attractiveness? Like do they consider themselves attractive?

Huh, good question!

Blade: he is distantly aware that other people/society in general considers him to be good-looking in some capacity. (By Ket standards, he and Gladius both are considered to be blessed with markedly good looks, but almost in a 'pretty boy' kind of way. Gladius is considered like stunningly beautiful while Blade has more of 'effortlessly hot' aura). So he would say other people probably think he's "above-average" in looks (but he also believes it to be more of a muscularity/strength thing than things like his facial features. Like women, if they do find him attractive, probably think so because he looks like a strong provider LMAO). But he himself doesn't think about his own attractiveness or appearance beyond what good hygiene and proper presentation dictate... he hardly spares himself a glance in the mirror most days. As you can tell by his haircut choices

Trouble: he considers himself to be average in looks, neither particularly handsome or particularly ugly, just exactly in the middle of the road! If asked to describe his own attractiveness in more detail, he'd probably say something like, "I clean up okay. I'm a decent-looking working-class guy? *shrug* I don't think anyone would be mad if I showed up at their doorstep with a bouquet of flowers, but artists aren't swooning over my cheekbones, either"

Tallys: Tallys considers herself to be a good-looking woman, probably an 8 if we're using a scale, a 9 if she put more effort into being conventionally beautiful (doing things like growing out her hair (!), using makeup or perfume, dressing well, etc.). She's confident in her own attractiveness and doesn't find much fault with her own features or body, but she also knows that doesn't mean she's everyone's specific cup of tea, either! She just believes that, according to a general standard, she rates highly in most areas, and no one could sincerely call her ugly. It helps that she's an Elf, since most of them have a high standard of confidence when it comes to their natural beauty!

Shery: before she joined the Shepherds, she believed herself to be average or below-average, and believed herself to be "mousy": hiding behind her bangs and spectacles was not something she ever saw conventionally beautiful people doing, so she grew up thinking she was forgettable or unremarkable, though not necessarily ugly or outright unattractive. Just sort of "plain." However, since joining and noticing that there are people who seem to compliment or even crush on her, she's since come to tentatively revise that opinion and thinks she could probably be considered "cute" by some people's standards, but she still thinks that her personality makes it hard for anyone to really notice her or become completely enthralled by her... so she would say she's probably like a 6 or 7 by looks alone, which she's content with!

Riel: as like a work of art or a painting (so judging by pure aesthetics alone, devoid of other considerations), he believes he rates around an 8 just going by the symmetry of his facial features, his taste in clothes, the fact that he's well-groomed, but he's a bit self-conscious of how he rates in terms of desirability or sexual appeal, which is a different thing entirely (in his own mind). Like, you can admit a painting is beautiful, but you don't want to fuck a painting? In those terms, he believes he falls well below the standards of the masculine ideal, probably resting at a 5, though he believes he makes up for it in other areas (wealth, intellect, uniqueness, etc). It doesn't bother him that much, but it is something that he is aware of at the back of his mind!

Chase: He thinks he's pretty good-looking (🙄), but that the effect is best felt and supplemented by his in-person charisma, charm, aura, and general personality. This is an extremely topical/dated example, but it's sort of like how a lot of people were largely indifferent to Glen Powell going strictly by looks alone, but then they saw him acting in Twisters or Top Gun or whatever and saw his chemistry with his co-stars and were suddenly like "oh 😳" Like he needs to be seen in action to really feel attracted to him?? Anyway, Chase thinks that if you were to see a perfect painting of him in a gallery, he's good-looking enough alone to make you stop and admire him, so probably like an 8... but his magnetism in person brings that to a 10 LOL

Red: He "doesn't really think about it" (🙄)--he more spends time grooming and styling himself to his own standards rather than really fretting over what other people would perceive or rate him as, but if you really pressed up, I think he'd say he's an 8 on a good day, potentially a 9 if he were to try very hard, but he'd sort of vaguely look around at everyone else to confirm if this was an arrogant thing for him to say lol, so he's definitely not totally sure about it! There aren't too many things he finds fault with when it comes to his physical appearance or body--he's generally satisfied and content in that department--but he also would never argue he's some great show-stopping beauty or gorgeous model: he just quietly lives with the idea that most people think he's a naturally pretty handsome guy!

Ayla: this is sad, but she probably rates herself a 3, maybe a 4 on a good day. 😕 Ayla thought she dispensed with thinking about her own appearance or attractiveness long ago, having accepted the fact that most people perceived her as this ragged, scrappy loner who mostly lived on the road and was lucky if she could find a stream to wash her hair in. She never possessed a mirror and, the rare times she stayed in a room that had one, she used it to check herself over for hidden injuries or things on her back and then went on her way... and none of this really mattered to her because she spent so much of her time alone. No one was really looking at her, she wasn't looking at herself, so who cared if she looked like a half-drowned rat with her hair growing into her eyes while she shook sand out of her clothes? Since joining the Shepherds, however, her private consciousness of her appearance has naturally increased, and sometimes she can feel quite down about it (especially when faced with the elegant grace of Tallys, the feminine cuteness of Shery, or the show-stopping beauty of Lavinet). Part of being in a group that she avoided was the vulnerability of natural comparison: no one's comparing you to anyone if you stand alone, but with the Shepherds, of course that's going to happen, even if only in her own mind... Anyway, this is a lot to say that she considers herself to be below-average in attractiveness, but is filled with a sullen self-loathing and pride when she considers doing anything to try to change that fact, so she just... resigns herself to feeling that way forever, if that makes any sense!

Briony: she thinks she's cute and can edge over into pretty when she tries really hard, so she'd probably say she hovers between a 6 and a 7 on an average day? While she thinks she has advantages like her striking hair color and eyes, she has areas that she privately feels a bit insecure about: she feels her face is too round, her nose is too short, feels like she's a bit short and compact and boyish in body when she's rather be tall and leggy like Tallys or buxom and curvaceous like Lavinet, etc. etc. It's not something that really bothers her--she figures that everybody feels that way about themselves--so she's happy with being "above-average" on most days. It's only when she's crushing on somebody and isn't sure of how they perceive her that she gets really unsure and self-conscious about it, and then she really obviously throws herself into styling herself to appear more feminine!

Lavinet: don't hate her, but she definitely thinks she's a 10 LOL. This is partly due to the fact that, by Blest beauty standards, she pretty much is a paragon of desirability, and everyone in her life has treated her as if she were a 10 or even outright said so... so there's really no reason for her to think otherwise! There are always small things she would tweak if she gave any thought to it, but in general she's been very happy with her appearance and how she's been able to use it as a tool to accomplish her goals in life!

Halek: he is well aware that he's gorgeous... he wouldn't say this out loud because he knows he'd get endlessly ragged on, but he'd probably say he's a 10 LMAO, maybe 9 so as to give the appearance of some humility... It's not even something he's arrogant about, he's just like aware of general beauty standards and is like 'yeah by no choice of my own and by complete accident of birth, i happen to fit these really well? *shrug*" It's nbd... and it's part of where his bde comes from, I'm sure

[tinystepsforward]

autocrattic (more matt shenanigans, not tumblr this time)

I am almost definitely not the right person for this writeup, but I'm closer than most people on here, so here goes! This is all open-source tech drama, and I take my time laying out the context, but the short version is: Matt tried to extort another company, who immediately posted receipts, and now he's refusing to log off again. The long version is... long.

If you don't need software context, scroll down/find the "ok tony that's enough. tell me what's actually happening" heading, or just go read the pink sections. Or look at this PDF.

the background

So. Matt's original Good Idea was starting WordPress with fellow developer Mike Little in 2003, which is free and open-source software (FOSS) that was originally just for blogging, but now powers lots of websites that do other things. In particular, Automattic acquired WooCommerce a long time ago, which is free online store software you can run on WordPress.

FOSS is... interesting. It's a world that ultimately is powered by people who believe deeply that information and resources should be free, but often have massive blind spots (for example, Wikipedia's consistently had issues with bias, since no amount of "anyone can edit" will overcome systemic bias in terms of who has time to edit or is not going to be driven away by the existing contributor culture). As with anything else that people spend thousands of hours doing online, there's drama. As with anything else that's technically free but can be monetized, there are:

Heaps of companies and solo developers who profit off WordPress themes, plugins, hosting, and other services;

Conflicts between volunteer contributors and for-profit contributors;

Annoying founders who get way too much credit for everything the project has become.

the WordPress ecosystem

A project as heavily used as WordPress (some double-digit percentage of the Internet uses WP. I refuse to believe it's the 43% that Matt claims it is, but it's a pretty large chunk) can't survive just on the spare hours of volunteers, especially in an increasingly monetised world where its users demand functional software, are less and less tech or FOSS literate, and its contributors have no fucking time to build things for that userbase.

Matt runs Automattic, which is a privately-traded, for-profit company. The free software is run by the WordPress Foundation, which is technically completely separate (wordpress.org). The main products Automattic offers are WordPress-related: WordPress.com, a host which was designed to be beginner-friendly; Jetpack, a suite of plugins which extend WordPress in a whole bunch of ways that may or may not make sense as one big product; WooCommerce, which I've already mentioned. There's also WordPress VIP, which is the fancy bespoke five-digit-plus option for enterprise customers. And there's Tumblr, if Matt ever succeeds in putting it on WordPress. (Every Tumblr or WordPress dev I know thinks that's fucking ridiculous and impossible. Automattic's hiring for it anyway.)

Automattic devotes a chunk of its employees toward developing Core, which is what people in the WordPress space call WordPress.org, the free software. This is part of an initiative called Five for the Future — 5% of your company's profits off WordPress should go back into making the project better. Many other companies don't do this.

There are lots of other companies in the space. GoDaddy, for example, barely gives back in any way (and also sucks). WP Engine is the company this drama is about. They don't really contribute to Core. They offer relatively expensive WordPress hosting, as well as providing a series of other WordPress-related products like LocalWP (local site development software), Advanced Custom Fields (the easiest way to set up advanced taxonomies and other fields when making new types of posts. If you don't know what this means don't worry about it), etc.

Anyway. Lots of strong personalities. Lots of for-profit companies. Lots of them getting invested in, or bought by, private equity firms.

Matt being Matt, tech being tech

As was said repeatedly when Matt was flipping out about Tumblr, all of the stuff happening at Automattic is pretty normal tech company behaviour. Shit gets worse. People get less for their money. WordPress.com used to be a really good place for people starting out with a website who didn't need "real" WordPress — for $48 a year on the Personal plan, you had really limited features (no plugins or other customisable extensions), but you had a simple website with good SEO that was pretty secure, relatively easy to use, and 24-hour access to Happiness Engineers (HEs for short. Bad job title. This was my job) who could walk you through everything no matter how bad at tech you were. Then Personal plan users got moved from chat to emails only. Emails started being responded to by contractors who didn't know as much as HEs did and certainly didn't get paid half as well. Then came AI, and the mandate for HEs to try to upsell everyone things they didn't necessarily need. (This is the point at which I quit.)

But as was said then as well, most tech CEOs don't publicly get into this kind of shitfight with their users. They're horrid tyrants, but they don't do it this publicly.

ok tony that's enough. tell me what's actually happening

WordCamp US, one of the biggest WordPress industry events of the year, is the backdrop for all this. It just finished.

There are.... a lot of posts by Matt across multiple platforms because, as always, he can't log off. But here's the broad strokes.

Sep 17

Matt publishes a wanky blog post about companies that profit off open source without giving back. It targets a specific company, WP Engine.

Compare the Five For the Future pages from Automattic and WP Engine, two companies that are roughly the same size with revenue in the ballpark of half a billion. These pledges are just a proxy and aren’t perfectly accurate, but as I write this, Automattic has 3,786 hours per week (not even counting me!), and WP Engine has 47 hours. WP Engine has good people, some of whom are listed on that page, but the company is controlled by Silver Lake, a private equity firm with $102 billion in assets under management. Silver Lake doesn’t give a dang about your Open Source ideals. It just wants a return on capital. So it’s at this point that I ask everyone in the WordPress community to vote with your wallet. Who are you giving your money to? Someone who’s going to nourish the ecosystem, or someone who’s going to frack every bit of value out of it until it withers?

(It's worth noting here that Automattic is funded in part by BlackRock, who Wikipedia calls "the world's largest asset manager".)

Sep 20 (WCUS final day)

WP Engine puts out a blog post detailing their contributions to WordPress.

Matt devotes his keynote/closing speech to slamming WP Engine.

He also implies people inside WP Engine are sending him information.

For the people sending me stuff from inside companies, please do not do it on your work device. Use a personal phone, Signal with disappearing messages, etc. I have a bunch of journalists happy to connect you with as well. #wcus — Twitter I know private equity and investors can be brutal (read the book Barbarians at the Gate). Please let me know if any employee faces firing or retaliation for speaking up about their company's participation (or lack thereof) in WordPress. We'll make sure it's a big public deal and that you get support. — Tumblr

Matt also puts out an offer live at WordCamp US:

“If anyone of you gets in trouble for speaking up in favor of WordPress and/or open source, reach out to me. I’ll do my best to help you find a new job.” — source tweet, RTed by Matt

He also puts up a poll asking the community if WP Engine should be allowed back at WordCamps.

Sep 21

Matt writes a blog post on the WordPress.org blog (the official project blog!): WP Engine is not WordPress.

He opens this blog post by claiming his mom was confused and thought WP Engine was official.

The blog post goes on about how WP Engine disabled post revisions (which is a pretty normal thing to do when you need to free up some resources), therefore being not "real" WordPress. (As I said earlier, WordPress.com disables most features for Personal and Premium plans. Or whatever those plans are called, they've been renamed like 12 times in the last few years. But that's a different complaint.)

Sep 22: More bullshit on Twitter. Matt makes a Reddit post on r/Wordpress about WP Engine that promptly gets deleted. Writeups start to come out:

Search Engine Journal: WordPress Co-Founder Mullenweg Sparks Backlash

TechCrunch: Matt Mullenweg calls WP Engine a ‘cancer to WordPress’ and urges community to switch providers

Sep 23 onward

Okay, time zones mean I can't effectively sequence the rest of this.

Matt defends himself on Reddit, casually mentioning that WP Engine is now suing him.

Also here's a decent writeup from someone involved with the community that may be of interest.

WP Engine drops the full PDF of their cease and desist, which includes screenshots of Matt apparently threatening them via text.

Twitter link | Direct PDF link

This PDF includes some truly fucked texts where Matt appears to be trying to get WP Engine to pay him money unless they want him to tell his audience at WCUS that they're evil.

Matt, after saying he's been sued and can't talk about it, hosts a Twitter Space and talks about it for a couple hours.

He also continues to post on Reddit, Twitter, and on the Core contributor Slack.

Here's a comment where he says WP Engine could have avoided this by paying Automattic 8% of their revenue.

Another, 20 hours ago, where he says he's being downvoted by "trolls, probably WPE employees"

At some point, Matt updates the WordPress Foundation trademark policy. I am 90% sure this was him — it's not legalese and makes no fucking sense to single out WP Engine.

Old text: The abbreviation “WP” is not covered by the WordPress trademarks and you are free to use it in any way you see fit. New text: The abbreviation “WP” is not covered by the WordPress trademarks, but please don’t use it in a way that confuses people. For example, many people think WP Engine is “WordPress Engine” and officially associated with WordPress, which it’s not. They have never once even donated to the WordPress Foundation, despite making billions of revenue on top of WordPress.

Sep 25: Automattic puts up their own legal response.

anyway this fucking sucks

This is bigger than anything Matt's done before. I'm so worried about my friends who're still there. The internal ramifications have... been not great so far, including that Matt's naturally being extra gung-ho about "you're either for me or against me and if you're against me then don't bother working your two weeks".

Despite everything, I like WordPress. (If you dig into this, you'll see plenty of people commenting about blocks or Gutenberg or React other things they hate. Unlike many of the old FOSSheads, I actually also think Gutenberg/the block editor was a good idea, even if it was poorly implemented.)

I think that the original mission — to make it so anyone can spin up a website that's easy enough to use and blog with — is a good thing. I think, despite all the ways being part of FOSS communities since my early teens has led to all kinds of racist, homophobic and sexual harm for me and for many other people, that free and open-source software is important.

So many people were already burning out of the project. Matt has been doing this for so long that those with long memories can recite all the ways he's wrecked shit back a decade or more. Most of us are exhausted and need to make money to live. The world is worse than it ever was.

Social media sucks worse and worse, and this was a world in which people missed old webrings, old blogs, RSS readers, the world where you curated your own whimsical, unpaid corner of the Internet. I started actually actively using my own WordPress blog this year, and I've really enjoyed it.

And people don't want to deal with any of this.

The thing is, Matt's right about one thing: capital is ruining free open-source software. What he's wrong about is everything else: the idea that WordPress.com isn't enshittifying (or confusing) at a much higher rate than WP Engine, the idea that WP Engine or Silver Lake are the only big players in the field, the notion that he's part of the solution and not part of the problem.

But he's started a battle where there are no winners but the lawyers who get paid to duke it out, and all the volunteers who've survived this long in an ecosystem increasingly dominated by big money are giving up and leaving.

Anyway if you got this far, consider donating to someone on gazafunds.com. It'll take much less time than reading this did.

[flowercrowngods]

The Last Day.

Steve doesn’t remember what drove him here — he doesn’t remember a lot of things lately, not that he’s mentioned that to anyone. They don’t really question these things anymore. Fucky vision, nightmares without sleeping, or things that just get lost in the everyday grind of remembering to do normal things like eat or drink or where the fuck he put his glasses.

So, he doesn’t remember what drove him here, if he was supposed to get something or if he just needed to get out of the gym, needed to breathe some air that’s not filled with anxiety and grief and the pressure of survivor’s guilt and why and how and when around every corner, behind every door, underneath every donated item and in every bite of stale peanut butter sandwiches.

The library was never a place of comfort for him, and he honestly never really cared about it one war or another. If pressed for it, he couldn’t name five books in all of these shelves. He never really looked.

But now, in the semi-darkness, the empty shelves are somehow daunting. All useful books were taken, children’s books donated to all the families that stayed, all science books stolen by people who were sure they could fix this, could get behind this, could build generators and water refineries and all that shit.

Somehow, the negative space in these shelves draws him in, and he takes a deep breath. A breath that Dustin would like, probably. It smells like books. It smells old. It smells like, somehow, somewhere, there might still be a constant in this world. Something that will remain. Like maybe there will always be a library that smells of old books. No matter how often the world will end.

It’s a strange thought. But comforting. He trails the shelves, not really looking at the books, walking too fast still to make out the titles in the dim light, but he refuses to stop. He refuses to stand. To linger.

The next two rows are completely empty, and it makes him shiver. Robin probably has a name for the feeling. Maybe melancholy. Or maybe he’s just haunted. Susceptible to absence.

Or maybe they’re the same feeling.

Blindly, he reaches for a book, because his hands begin to tingle and he really needs something to do before his lungs catch up and his brain finds out that he’s somehow almost about to panic, or to relapse, or to drop to the floor if his legs don’t regain feeling soon.

He keeps walking, the book in hand. It’s a slim edition, bound in leather, and it feels really old. Looks like it, too.

Michael Bruce

He carefully flips it open, the old paper crackling with the movement, and he wonders briefly if this is the part of the library that’s usually watched like a hawk, the part where you’re not allowed to touch the books without supervision and certainly not without reason. Maybe. Maybe this Michael Bruce hasn’t seen a real face in a long time.

It doesn’t take long for Steve to find out that they’re mostly poems—and of course they are, old books are almost always filled with poems.

He opens the book at a random page, still needing to settle his hands, his heart, his mind. The title makes his heart drop. “The Last Day.”, it’s called; still his eyes glide over the lines, intrigued.

Twas on an autumn's eve, serene and calm. I walked, attendant on the funeral Of an old swain : around, the village crowd Loquacious chatted, till we reach'd the place Where, shrouded up, the sons of other years Lie silent in the grave. The sexton there Had digg'd the bed of death, the narrow house, For all that live, appointed. To the dust We gave the dead. Then moralizing, home The swains return'd, to drown in copious bowls The labours of the day, and thoughts of death.

Okay. Sure. So, maybe this Michael Bruce dude is not the best company when the world is sort of ending. But somehow Steve can’t stop reading, and for the first time he kind of doesn’t want to stop reading a poem. This one’s different anyway. This one just… it gets him.

Images of Barb flood his mind. Eddie. Chrissy. Max. Everyone who was lost, everyone who has an empty coffin in their grave and an NDA penned to their name.

To the dust We gave the dead.

The labours of the day, and thoughts of death.

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t want to go back out there. Head to the gym and fold clothes and check the missing posters and make phone calls to find out, to make sure, to keep in touch. The labours of the day. The thoughts of death.

Shaking hands flip the pages, two at once, because he doesn’t want to live the last day; doesn’t want to hear about it. He needs to know how it ends, needs to make sure, needs to find out, just—

A pause ensued. The fainting sun grew pale, And seem'd to struggle through a sky of blood : While dim eclipse impaird his beam : the earth Shook to her deepest centre : Ocean rag'd, And dash'd his billows on the frighted shore. All was confusion. Heartless, helpless, wild.

Suddenly, what little light was left to stream through the windows disappears, stealing the words from beneath his eyes, and before he can look up and breathe, the door to the library bursts open, revealing a panicked Robin.

“Steve?”

“Robbie?”

“You… You better come see this.”

He hears it in her voice. The resignation. Oceans raging as the fainting sun grows pale. Confusion. Helpless, heartless, wild.

He closes Michael Bruce and runs toward her on numb legs, not ready to find out about the new apocalypse he’s gonna find outside the library. And seeing black skies through the windows and pale faces behind them, reflecting against the growing darkness, he wonders if he shouldn’t have skipped through the last day. The Last Day.

Terror in every look, and pale affright Sat in each eye ; amazed at the past, And for the future trembling.

Steve, too, is trembling. And Robin’s hand in his is shaking just as much.

Poetical works of Michael Bruce : with life and writings. William Stephen ed. 1895.

[chasing-posts]

People who deserve redemption, according to Thomas Astruc, written from least to worst of a bad character.

Kim Lê Chiến

Dumbass teenage boy who could have killed Marinette with a dumb prank he was completely concious of, and willing to commit. The boy was also a brat/ bully throughout season 1, but after Dark Cupid had apparently decided to be nicer off screen. Became friends with Max and got a girlfriend... BUT still refers to Chloe as the funniest and prettiest girl, IN FRONT of said girlfriend. Sees nothing wtong with what he did to the point of getting upset enough to become akumatized over the issue. He was allowed to be a super hero without even apologizing to Marinette dor over a year, and did a lot of dumb stuff tht was also forgiven just because. Is also one of the most inconsistently written characters in tbe story.

Jagged Stone

Possibly the most likable man on the list. However this man abandoned his twins and didn't contact them for 14 years. He kept his identity a secret and it's not even known if he paid child support before coming back into their lives, and constantly having fights with their mother.

That said he's put low on the list because we don't know if he did or did not pay child support. He's not mean to his children or kids in general, he is legit trying to make up for his absence and he originally left because his life was too chaotic to have custody. There's a lot of ambiguity and behind the scenes drama that is not explored (*cough thought out cough cough*) in this family, and it's even possible the mom fought for full custody to keep him away after a big break up. The situation is too ambiguous to judge.

Sabrina Raincomprix

Sabrina has been Chloe's number 1 supporter and follower for almost a decade. They were childhood friends and wherever Chloe went, she went. She has been supporting Chloe bad deeds and even happily participating throughout most of them. There were two incidents in season 1 where they almost stopped being friends and Marinette made an attempt to leave the friendship once, but for the most part has stuck throigh and done everything Chloe has wanted her to do and loved doing it. This includes stealing, faking notes, doing her homework, coming up with schemes to bully, laughing at all the chaos, making grown women and other teens cry and so much more. She was even given the dog Miraculous in season 4, by Marinette, despite doing nothing to earn it and only being good at soccer and wanting to SAVE Chloe, so they could bully another day.

In the end she's given a redemption arc because she feels bad for stealing (all of a sudden), and because Chloe was becoming friends with Lilah. The fact she's an active participant in bullying who gets off on the power trip of putting others drown, is not brought up again

Alec Cataldi

Alec's career is based on putting other people down, and is responsible for the first akumatized victim in the show back in episode 1. For four seasons, his entire personality was finding people, mocking them, on television or in person, and getting views off it. He's a spiteful man who makes his living off the suffering of others.

However in season 4 we find out that his biggest dream was to become a drag queen when he was little, and he was mocked for it. After that happened he shaved his hair off and started putting down other people's passions, in the same way his had dreams had been squashed. After his first and only akumatization, he has a break down and epithany, decides to live his true self and raise people up instead instead. On paper, he has the best redemption arc so far.

Félix Fathom

Fèlix was introduced in season 3, and his first on-screen acts include destroying Adrien's things, trying to ruin his cousin's reputation and leave him friendless, sexually assaulting Ladybug, and stealing from the Agreste family. He continues his bad deeds in season four with identity theft, and stealing all the Miraculous' from Ladybug and giving them to Gabriel/ AKA Hawkmoth, in return for the Peacock Miraculous.

We learn in season 5 he's a sentimonster who's been acting out due to an abusive father and his fragile existence in the world. He uses his power to remove everyone in the world in a misplaced effort to make him and his cousin happy, before eventually being talked down by Kagami and Adrian.

He eventually starts stalking Kagami and after revealing himself, they start a relationship together. He seems socially inept and yet despite all his knowledge on his, Adrien's and Kagami's situation, he decides to never tell Adrian aboht what's happening and only Marinette in the most awkward dance number ever.

All in all Fèlix had every opportunity and all the power to reveal Hawkmoth's true identy from the start, but never took the steps to reveal his identity and work towards true redemption. And if he decided to tell Chat Noir/ Ladybug the whole story, the three of them could have defeated monarch. And Adrien and Kagami would nit have been forced to goto London.

André Bourgeois

Andrè is a corrupt mayor, who uses his elected title and money to regularly take advantage of the people of Paris. He has fired people without just cause (even his own "friends"), tried to steal things he was denied, abused funds, and enable his daughters worst decisions. He raised Chloe alone since she was 4-6, and has both neglected her emotional needs, refused to parent his child, rewarded her bad behavior with material possessions, and allowed her to idolize her mother, and even encouraged her to model her behavior after her mother she abandoned them, and then abandons her and hands her over to her abusive mother at the end of the series, while taking in her half sibling, who he has not raised and has no legal claim over.

Andrè blames the women in his life for how he's turned out. Claiming he only wanted to be a film director, and only left to be a successful business tirant and corrupt political figure, for his wife Audrey. Who he still stays married to after she cheats on him, and moves away for half a decade, abandoning hik and their own daughter. He chooses to stay married. Chose to stay in that career and chose to constantly rip off and screw over the people of paris. Often being the cause of akumatization, and ruinging big events for his daughter's whims. Keep in mind, the only reason Chloe is like this now, is because of Aundrè's parenting, yet he never takes responsibility for that, and instead decides to abdocate his position, illigally allow his daughter to take control of the city, let her take all the fall for HIS crimes, and then abandon her to live with his step daughter instead.

All this to say that Andrè may be the second worst on the list, but I hate him the most.

Gabriel Agreste

What can't you say about this man. This man loves being evil. He dances through the halls when a scheme looks like it's about to work. His entire power is taking advantage of people at thier worst, enslaving them and then making them do his bidding. His list of victims includes literal babies, children of all ages, the mentally ill, the elderly, and even his own son. The son which he claims to love but whom he actively manipulates, abuses and mistreats throughout the ENTIRE series. He literally controls him to make him do whatever he wants, and when he acts out or says something he does not like, he belittles him and will actively punish him if he gets less than perfect.

Gabriel also disrespects and will backstab all his allies. Has enslaved 2 kwami's and claims everything he does is for his dead wife, whose corpse he keeps locked away in his basement. He is actively going against her wishes to stay dead and manipulates the love of the women around him, like Natalie, to move forward with his evil plans.

Lastly when he says he does it all for his wife, he's lying. Because the when he has the opportunity to go back in time and save his wife, or fight Ladybug, he actively chooses the latter.

He constantly terrorizes Paris, actively makes situations worst for people to make more akumatized victims, destroys property, all while he hides away in the shadows. Then finally in season 5, when he is confronted by Ladybug, he is given the opportunity to reform and really think about what he did. To reflect on all he's done. He uses a moment of vulnerability and weakness to manipulate Marinette and treats her like the puppet she's named after. His last act of the show is stealing the Miraculous, using the cat and Ladybug to destroy and recreate the world how he wills, where he's the hero and no one knows he's the villain, and his son who he abused for 5 seasons and now has left parentless, now sees him as a hero.

[crazylittlejester]

*points at what you said in Sunny’s ask about hair stuff (which are all wonderful and yes) and Wars bleaching and straightening his hair*

Silly or Hero-warship previous mostly blond heroes gotta look the part perfect soldier image peer pressure whatever? (Basically, silly little guy or sads?) (My brain immediately went to this but it kinda falls apart with some of the others in the chain having different hair colors (which, again awesome, curly hair Rulie and Wind my beloveds) but thought why not ask anyways)

Taking this as a Yap opportunity because it’s been so long since people have sent in asks about my Wars headcanons and I feel like I haven’t gotten to talk about this in a while >:) SO THANK YOU FOR THIS

edit: apologies if theres any spelling mistakes im dyslexic but also just an idiot

So I hc Wars came from a very small village on the outskirts of the kingdom and when he got to Castletown and joined the army things were very different, HE was very different. He didn’t feel like he fit in with them, so he tried his best to force himself to fit in which is why I hc he does a fake accent, a Castletown/British one so people assume he comes from there. The way people view him is very important to him because he worries if they don’t see him through the carefully crafted lens he’s set up for himself to be viewed through, people will not like him or they won’t think he’s worthy or they’ll think he’s pathetic and he can’t handle that. So everything about how he’s constructed and built himself, from his hair to his accent to his walk to his laugh, his smile, voice, posture, all of it is carefully and deliberately crafted so that his image and how he presents himself is consistent, reliable, and “hero worthy”

Him straightening and dyeing his hair was 100% because he saw the heroes of legend and realized he didn’t look like them. I hc the Hero of Time was a huge figure, and one of the most noted heroes in Wars’s era, so little Wars compared himself to that a LOT. (and I also hc he never knew Mask was the Hero of Time because the kid called himself the Hero of Masks because HE didn’t think he could live up to his own title.) He thought if he looked more like what the people of Hyrule envision the great hero to look like in their minds, he’d be taken much more seriously

Of course now, seven years after the war, after he’s had a lot of time to come to terms with things and start to heal, Warriors doesn’t feel the need to look like the other heroes in order to be worthy, and he realizes this before he even meets the others. But NOW he’s stuck because he hasn’t felt like himself or like he KNEW himself at all since he was like 14/15, and he’s nearly 28 now and after over a decade of being in the army or “Hero of Warriors”, he doesn’t really know HOW to be him. He’s not yet at a point where he can fully realize the only thing that’s going to make him happy is becoming himself again, he knows he feels more relaxed when he feels safe but hes not really aware of how much his guard drops and how his act disappears when he’s completely at peace. He feels like he needs to keep playing this character of himself he’s made, and that includes keeping up appearances

He’s getting better about relaxing how strict he is with himself, he’ll allow himself lazy mornings where he doesn’t straighten his hair or do his makeup, but he almost obsessively dyes his hair and that’s the last thing he’ll stop doing, because I hc he looks VERY much like his mother and where he’s at right now, he couldn’t handle seeing that. (I hc his mother is alive, and so are all the sisters i hc he has, and they haven’t seen him since he left all those years ago because he feels like he CANNOT go back because hes so different now and he cannot handle the idea that home wouldnt feel like home anymore because he’s become a monster at war and he wont belong there anymore. He still writes home, and keeps in contact, and he’s seen Linkle (his twin), but he can’t bring himself to see his mother in his own face or just go home until he relearns who he actually is)

*wet cough* sorry for the yap 🥺 i have a lot of thoughts and he’s my special guy and this is how I characterize him in my writing (unless its an au or a specific other thing) so i think about him a LOT

if anyone is interested in this characterization of him heres a link to my main Wars series:

*collapses and dies*

[heybrownieboy]

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: A MURDERER, A DEMON, AND AN ELEMENTAL?

POV: 2nd Person. Y/N.

— Word Count: 2K+

Author’s Note: Finally an update :). In all honesty, I’ve been struggling with getting back into writing lately— after not having time nor mental energy to in so long— but, I’ve also have felt awful going M.I.A for over two months. So, while I was working on this, I decided to break up what I do have and give you all this little update. I wanted to reassure you all that I am NOT giving up on this SMAU. At all. I will be continuing and finishing it. But for now, I hope you enjoy this. I apologize for it being short but, I promise the next chapter is much longer (once I’m able to actually put this one damn scene into words 😭).

“Do you honestly think this is a good idea?” 

You tore your eyes away from your TV—which was currently playing reruns of “Happiness”— and to the spirit siting on the couch next to you.

“What?” you asked. 

“Tonight,” Minho said. “Do you honestly think going to that shrine tonight is a good idea?” 

“Yes,” you said. 

“That caretaker is crazy, Y/N. Like completely batshit crazy."

“So I’ve heard,” you said.

“I mean it,” Minho said, exasperated. “I think he’s the one that actually killed Jisung and I.” 

Your eyes widened. “Wait what?” you asked. 

“I don’t remember a lot from that night,” he said. “Like at all. And I know you said spirits tend to forget more and more things the longer their earth bound.” 

You nodded at that. 

“But I remember some snippets of that night,” Minho said. “And I think he was there. I swear saw him for a spilt second. I was too shocked when I found…” He took a deep breath, an obvious expression of pain and grief crossing his face. “When I found Jisung’s body. So, I wasn’t exactly paying attention to my surroundings. I saw the caretaker run behind me from my peripheral vision. But, before I could react there was a rope wrapping around my throat.” 

“I thought you two were kidnapped?” you asked. 

“I think we were,” he said. “At least in a sense. Do you remember when Jeongin talked about that night he went to the mountain alone?” 

“He said he doesn’t remember the car ride there,” you said quietly. 

“Or half of his hike through the woods,” Minho finished. "Not until he heard Jisung. From what I remember, something similar happened to me.” 

“It was probably the demon controlling you,” you said. “They’re good at that. It’s like a semi-possession.” You rubbed your temples. “So I’m about to go spy on a murderer, a demon, and an elemental?”

“What do you think they’re doing up there?” Minho said.

“Honestly I don’t know. I feel like I don’t know anything. Everything for me with this whole thing has been guesses.” 

“Yet you’re still trying to help,” Minho said. 

“Of course I am,” you said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Why wouldn’t I?” 

“Because it’s dangerous and you could get hurt,” he said. “Or even die.” 

You shrugged. “It’s not the first time I’ve almost died.” 

“Yeah,” Minho said slowly. “What’s with that huh? How are you alive and have been to hell?” 

You winced. “It was a long time ago,” you said. “And in all honestly I don’t really like talking about it much.”

“I get that,” Minho said. “And I won’t push you to talk about something you don’t want to. Hell was the worst thing I ever experienced in my life. I mean, yeah I guess it’s Hell but, I never expected it to be like…”  He grimaced at the memories.

“Yep,” you agreed, completely understanding of what he meant. 

“I thought it was just going to be super hot.” Minho let out a humorless chuckle. “I wasn’t exactly religious before all this so, I guess I never really read up on it.”

“You could say Dante wasn’t too far off,” you said. “And I do think it’s a little different for everyone.” 

“Yeah. Sometimes Jisung and I would see different things.” 

You squinted at the spirit. “Have you seen any other spirits lately?” 

Minho tilted his head at you. “No actually,” he said. “Now that I think about it. The only one I’ve seen all week is Jisung. Why?” 

“Fucking hell,” you grumbled. You leaned against the back of your couch, head thrown back and eyes staring up at the ceiling. “I’m starting to think that’s what these rituals are for. Because in my twenty years of life, I’ve never gone a day without seeing a least four or five spirits. I’ve only seen three others— besides you and Jisung— in the last week. That’s it. And it been over a week since I’ve seen a demon.” 

“That’s not a good thing?” 

“God, I wish it was. But, no it’s not.” 

“Fuck,” Minho breathed. “So, what should we do? I knew this was complicated and dangerous but this? This seems next level.” 

“I don’t know…” You threw up your hands exasperated. “I feel like that’s all I’ve been saying lately. ‘I don’t know’. It’s so fucking frustrating.” 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Minho said softly. “You’re trying. You’re helping us even if you don’t have to. And so far you’ve done an amazing job okay?”

You have him a half hearted smile. “Thank you,” you said.

“Is there maybe any kind of research you can do on this?” he offered. “I mean, there has to be some answers out there somewhere right?” 

“Maybe,” you said. “I only have like an half an hour before Jay and Nico pick me up though. And kind of search isn’t something I have easy access too. Not to mention it’s the supernatural. Nothing is finite. There’s thousands of rituals out there. And thousands more that aren’t recorded.” You nibbled on the inside of your cheek nervously.

“You grew up in a family of Shaman right?” Minho asked. “Can’t you ask like an elder or something for help?” 

You scrunched your nose at that. “I don’t talk to most of them anymore,” you said. “But, I do have someone I could call. My aunt should be able give me some kind of advice.” 

You leaned over to grab your cell phone off the coffee table. It should be around five P.M in London right now. You scrolled to your aunt’s contact and hit call. It only took a few rings for the line to be picked up

“Y/N-ah.” 

The sound of your Aunt Bora’s gentle voice on the other side of the line immediately had you relaxing. The tension that had building up all day seemed to almost completely melt away. 

“Hi,” you said softly. “How are you?” 

“I’m doing great, honey,” your aunt said. “But what about you? It’s almost one A.M in Korea right now. Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” 

“I wish I could,” you said. “But I’ve been stressed out lately and couldn’t sleep.” 

“Stressed out about school?” Bora asked. “Because you shouldn’t be. I know studying to get your nursing degree can be challenging but you’re extremely intelligent, Y/N. You’ll make an amazing nurse in the future.” 

You smiled at that. “Thank you,” you said. You let out a soft sigh. “But that’ not the reason I called you. I need advice. On the supernatural.” 

“Oh? What do you mean? What’s happening?” 

“Do you remember those two men that went missing last year?” you asked.

“Yes,” Bora said. “Lily-ah and Natty-ah knew them through friends, correct? What were their names again?” 

“Lee Minho and Han Jisung,” you said. You glanced at Minho for a second. He was the one now leaned back into the couch watching you contently. 

“Didn’t you try to help find them last year?” your aunt asked.

“I did,” you confirmed. “But I couldn’t. I didn’t find a trace of them physically or spiritually.” 

“I’ve always found that strange. It’s almost like…” 

“Someone might have been hiding them.” 

“Exactly,” Bora said. “Did you finally find them?” 

“Kind of,” you said. “It’s more like they found me. Well, technically Jeongin found me.”

“Jeongin?” 

“Their friend. Um, how do I even explain?” 

“Start from the beginning yeah?” Bora said, her voice gentle. “Tell me everything you know.” 

And so you did. You explained how Jeongin originally had come to you or “Eris” for advice because he thought his friend was haunting him. How that turned out to be correct and that Minho was in fact trying to get through to him. You explained how you saw Minho and then had the premonition about Jisung. You explained their spiritual debt and how they were tricked by those three. How they had to escape hell and how half of their soul was stolen from them.

“So,” Bora said slowly, “you’re trying to help them break their spiritual debt and move on?” 

“Yes,” you said, with a slight wavier to your voice.

“But?” 

“But that’s not all. One of the trio he made a contract with was human. A living human. Minho is pretty sure that he’s the one that murdered them.” 

“Y/N,” your aunt said lowly. “You can’t confront a murder.” 

“Oh, I’m not done though.” 

There was a few beats of silence before your aunt asked, “What do you mean?”

“In the past week or so, I’ve seen three spirits and no demons,” you said. “Only one of those spirits talked to me. And all it did was ask for the time.” 

“Asked for the time? Spirits never ask for the time. Unless…” 

“Unless they’re being summoned somewhere,” you said. “I think they’re all being summoned to that mount Minho and Jisung went missing on. By the human.” 

“You think he’s summoning them all there for something bigger,” Bora said. 

“Exactly,” you said. “He’s been preforming rituals for about two weeks. At least that we know of. “

“He’s most likely a Shaman. A very powerful one. Rituals like that? They aren’t easy. At all.” 

“I know,” you said.

“And I’m guessing there’s more,” Bora said with a soft sigh. 

“The other two being they made this contract with are supernatural. One is a demon. But the other one, neither Minho or Jisung knew what it was. They said it was different from the demon.” 

“Don’t tell me…” 

“I’m pretty sure it’s an elemental, yeah.” 

“Y/N,” your aunt said voice now taking on a firm, cold edge. “You need to stay away from elementals. They can and will kill you if you ever get in their way. Forget the murderous shaman. Elementals are not bound to the same rules as demons. Not to mention they hate humans more than demons ever have.” 

“I know,” you said. “I do but…” You took a deep breath. “I cannot not help. There’s something seriously wrong.” 

“It doesn’t matter. This is your lif—“ 

“They have wards to keep away angels,” you said cutting your aunt off. 

“What?” she asked, utter disbelief overtaking her tone.

“Minho said that the mountain is littered in wards keeping angels out,” you said. “Namely Azrael.” 

“That’s impossible.” 

“You would think. At first he thought it was just the hellhounds being kept out. They got too close to the mountain and they were repelled, But he said that Azrael has not been able to get onto the mountain at all either. That the barrier the wards created repelled him as well.” 

The other line went silent. After a few moments you began to worry that the call had disconnected. 

“Hel—“ 

“I don’t like this Y/N,” your aunt said quietly. “At all. I understand Azrael is probably the last angel you want to see since… since all of that happened. But he’s still an angel. He’s still a protector. If you go on that mountain, you have absolutely no protection. Not against the Shaman nor the elemental.”

“I realize that,” you said. “And I completely understand that. But like I said. There’s something seriously wrong happening. I think Minho and Jisung were apart of whatever plan they have going on. Not to mention they’ve been talking about Jeongin. Another human life they most likely want to take. They’ve been planning this for at least a year now, Aunt Bora. Whatever it is, it’s huge. God know how many people will eventually be dragged into this."

Your aunt let out a heavy, defeated sigh. “Okay,” she said. “Okay. I know there’s no way to talk you out of this.” Another sigh left her lips. “ Let me think for a few minutes. Maybe I can help.” 

You smiled. “Thank you,” you said. “So much.” 

Your aunt simply hummed. After a few minutes she began speaking again. “How were those to boys killed? Do you know? I might be able to narrow down what ritual they’re trying to get ready up for.” 

“They were strangled,” you said. You peered at Minho for a second, your eyes focusing on the wound around his neck.. “Well, honestly it looks like the rope cut into their throats. They both have these huge infected gashes.” 

“Infected?” Bora asked. 

You copied her hum from a few moments ago. “Yeah.”

“Y/N, if they were dead, how could their wounds be infected?” 

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