#she tries to make me fit in and make sense in a system that is not designed to accommodate people like me

[stellacendia]

Re: my last post about cis people just utterly failing to understand how I exist outside the gender binary cause I'm still thinking about it and it's still making me mad. One example of this is how much they buy into bioessentialism, cause it's never occurred to them that it's bullshit.

A couple months ago I was talking about how I think if I ever become a parent I'd want to be my kid's mother (as opposed to their father)- cause I'm not a woman but you can be a mother without being a woman- and my friend goes "Oh! Do you think it's because you have maternal instincts instead of paternal instincts?"

And I'm just like. Wtf are you talking about? No?

And she goes "oh yeah it's like a scientific thing they've observed even in animals! Fathers just feel no parental instincts at all until they have kids and then suddenly boom! They have all these parenting feelings!"

And then I was doubly like wtf because that's just. So stupid. I made a comment about wondering how much of that was actually societal and how boys are raised versus how girls are raised, and she was just like "no actually it's an unchangeable biological fact!"

And now it gives me such weird feelings every time I think about it like... I'm slowly coming around to the idea that maybe I do want to be a father but... Am I feeling that cause I'm getting more comfortable with masculine labels applying to me? Am I feeling that because she just made me feel so goddamn weird about maybe still liking a feminine label despite the fact that I don't identify with womanhood?

I love her so much, and I know she loves me. I know she supports me in my gender discovery, and she's been so helpful with it- helping me pick out new clothes, and being respectful of my pronouns, and being a listening ear when I need to talk about new feelings about my sexuality, and all that. And I know she's incredibly smart, and she's open to being educated on issues she doesn't know much about, and she's aware that she just doesn't know much about trans stuff. She knows she needs to examine some of her biases and assumptions.

But then she says stuff like this, and.... Idk. It just makes me feel so gross. And I have no idea how to talk to her about it. I want to be able to challenge her when she says things like this, and I want to be able to push back on these ideas and make her really question them but..... she just says it so confidently, and I am so bad at disagreeing with people even over totally trivial things, and I know as much as I want to I'll just never pluck up the courage to say anything to her in the moment. I want her to talk to other genderqueer people. I want her to read the things they write, hear the things they say, and maybe start to cross examine her views on her own, without me holding her hand through it all. I don't want to be the only one educating her on this stuff. It's exhausting, and emotionally painful.

I'm just.... tired

[bby-deerling]

girlfriend (zoro x reader nsfw)

part of my 1600 follower event!

prompt is: show him what you do to me/late at night when the wind is free/we're gonna have to tell him/you'll only be a girlfriend/of mine

18+, mdni, nsfw, wc: 2.6k masterlist

cw: afab!reader, jealousy, established relationship, law is lowkey a freak, unrequited law x reader, voyeurism, jerking off, eavesdropping, unknowing exhibitionism, dirty talk, law considering using his devil fruit for (actually) nefarious purposes

tagging: @eelnoise @ragethebunny @sanjisprincesswifey @willowhaze26 @kaizokuniichan

Lazy clouds roll overhead, making for an easy and uneventful day at sea.  The soft rock of the ship is soothing, and the ocean mist turns you ticklish as it sprinkles across your face and into your hair.  It was sublimely serene and peaceful—until your crewmates decide to make you the target of their mischief for the afternoon.

“Sanji wants to know what your boyfriend wants for lunch.” Nami asks as she approaches you next to the railing, a wicked grin on her face as Usopp tries his best to suppress a fit of giggles.

Brows knit together as you look at her, perplexed.  “Why?  He knows Zoro will eat just about anything besides chocolate.” you reply, still unsure as to why Sanji was bothering to ask considering he usually made his menus without even thinking to consider Zoro’s opinion, stating that the mosshead is too crude to have a fully developed sense of taste.

“No, not Zoro, your other boyfriend!” she teases, causing you to let out a frustrated sigh and roll your eyes as Usopp cackles.  Trafalgar Law had made himself quite comfortable around you during his temporary stay on the Sunny; it had started with an interest in a coin he was absentmindedly flicking into the air—you used to grade and collect them, after all—and it had devolved into him sticking close to your side, grumbling under his breath that you were the only person on the crew he could tolerate.

“Why am I the Law expert?” you hiss, frustrated and trying to keep your voice down.  Truthfully, at a different, more naïve time in your life, Law’s strange charm and roundabout way of indirectly flirting with you through mumbled half-compliments would have had your wrapped around his finger, but not now; not when you had a support system of people to give you whole, unrestricted, free-flowing love.  Not when you were in an idyllic partnership built on respect and growth.  There was no room in your heart for Law and his cryptic platitudes beyond friendship—not when you were in love with Zoro.

“Because he sits and talks to you with that dopey look in his eyes as if he’s never seen a pretty girl before in his life!  He’s so obvious it’s painful!”  Usopp exclaims, causing you to sigh.  Law considered himself smooth and sneaky, but the way he showed you preferential treatment was beyond glaringly obvious, and considering that nearly everyone else had picked up on it, it was only a matter of time before it spilled over into something that you weren’t quite prepared to deal with yet.

“Which is why I’ve been trying to ignore it.” you say through gritted teeth.  Worry rushes through your veins as you consider the last week or so, replaying each interaction with him in his head to try to decipher if you had been encouraging his budding affections in any way.  Unsatisfied with the vagueness of your conclusion, you reach for external validation. “I’m not doing anything to give him the wrong idea, am I?” you ask them, nervously digging your nails into your forearms.

“You’re just being friendly.” Nami says, reassuring you with a squeeze to your shoulder. “It’s just hilarious to watch him follow you around like a lost puppy.”  You’d liken him more to a miserable wet cat than a puppy, sulking in corners and stealing you away to demand attention when it suited him, craving affection from you, but only on his own terms.  It was a bid for control that was foreign to you and left a bitter distaste in your mouth, especially when you were accustomed to the mutual trust that you and Zoro shared.

“And a bit pathetic.” Usopp adds with a crooked grin.

“You’re one to talk about being pathetic.” Nami chimes in, unable to resist getting in a playful dig at her friend’s expense.

“Hey!” he exclaims, launching the two into a fit of unserious bickering as the sound of heavy boots against the deck approach them.

“Is that moron done with lunch yet?” Zoro asks with a huff, sweaty, fatigued, and irritated after a rough workout.

“Almost!  Or at least he better be—I’m starving too.” you tell him with a smile; the look on your face visibly softens his frustration slightly, turning his anger into a gentle rumble.

“Idiot can’t even stick to a regular schedule.” he growls, leaning against the railing next to you.  As Nami and Usopp remain engrossed in their sidebar conversation, you take the opportunity to softly ask him how his training went, and eagerly drink up each detail.  In return, he wants you to relay him the details of your morning, and you do, with a dreamy smile of your face—a lovestruck look that’s not lost on your fellow crewmates.

“Look at that look in her eyes, it’s probably crushing his poor heart!” Nami whispers to Usopp, gesturing towards Law across the deck, who was slowly strolling towards the kitchen.

“The pain of unrequited love!” Usopp whispers back, tears nearly streaming down his face from both uncontrollable laughter and empathy for the Surgeon of Death’s plight.

“What the hell are you two talking about?” Zoro barks out as he snaps his head towards them.  They both point towards the doorway to the kitchen, where Law’s hat disappears into the room. “Don’t you two have anything better to do?” he asks with a sigh.

“Nope!” Nami chirps, informing him that their course was securely set, and that the schadenfreude she and Usopp derived from watching Law fight a battle he was doomed to lose from the start was the most fun they’ve had in weeks.  Zoro scoffs, appearing indifferent as he rolls his eyes and makes his way towards the kitchen, but the tight grip he keeps around your waist betrays his annoyance and uneasiness as Nami’s words rattle around his head; both of you had considered the way the surgeon clung to you a bit odd, but hearing that other people had noticed it too had made the situation tangible, and suddenly makes Law’s presence next to you at the table unbearable—there was something unsettling about the fact that he would rather see the cook on his knees in front of you, pathetically begging for just one chance, than to have Law at the same table as  you, let alone sitting beside you.

“Something bugging you, mosshead?” Sanji quips with a knowing smirk upon seeing Zoro’s arm wrapped around you.  Frustrated, the swordsman doesn’t dignify him with a response; not in the talking mood, he removes his arm from around your torso in order to shovel food into his mouth and prevent any attempts at small talk.  You’re engrossed in your own food, slurping up the wedding soup that Sanji had prepared for your lunch, ignoring the burns the hot broth leaves on the roof of your mouth.  It was still far too hot for a reasonable person to eat, but as was often the case with Sanji’s cooking it was too good not to.

“Mmm…” you hum contently; the rest of the crew is used to your penchant to moan in delight when stuffing your face with a particularly good meal, but Law is unable to hide the way he stiffens like a board beside you as the sound that escapes your lips rings in his ears.  “Sanji, this is delicious!” you say innocently, with glimmering enthusiasm, causing the cook’s lips to curl up into an appreciative smile and teasingly telling you it would taste even better if you had the patience to wait a while before digging in. 

A few moments pass uneventfully as you scarf down the bread that accompanied your soup, until a sudden sensation running across your outer thigh causes you to nearly leap out of your own skin; peering under the table, the culprit is Law’s leg, pressed against your own.  He’s a tall man, so the need for leg room would be a reasonable excuse, and scrutinizing his face reveals no outward trace of unscrupulous intentions; yet, at the same time he’s so transparent, unable to help himself from bouncing his knee alongside yours, as if desperate for the slightest bit of friction.  The smallest of sighs escapes his lips as you lean away from the touch, confirming your suspicions; the realization makes you echo the sound, frustrated and disappointed that he was unable to be content with the friendship you were willing to offer and was instead so insistent on meddling in a place where he didn’t belong.

His behavior was starting to eat away at your last nerve, and evidently, Zoro shared your sentiment, becoming more possessive than usual when he makes love to you that night.

“Bet he jerks his pathetic cock to the thought of switching places with me…hah…but he doesn’t have the balls to do it.” Zoro whispers, panting into your ear as he snakes an arm underneath you to pull your waist closer; craving to feel your hot skin melt into his, he needs you trapped and caged between his arms, mewling and whimpering out a soft, pretty song as he pounds you into the floor.  “He knows you need something bigger, don’t ya’, pretty girl?” he growls in your ear; it’s gravelly, possessive, and makes you flutter softly around him as you whine out an “Mhm… you feel s’good…” in response.

Lost and drowning in a haze of ecstasy, neither of you notice the soft blue light enveloping the room, nor the muffled, strangled gasps coming from outside the door as Law drags his hand down his cock, imagining burying himself inside you instead.  For a brief moment, he does consider switching places with him, picturing the way your eyes would be blown wide with shock—shock that he’d fuck out of you until you’re drooling out the corner of your mouth and whimpering his name like a prayer.  But as much as he desires it, burning up for you so much that he barely knows what to do with himself, he knows he can’t—it’s too twisted and dark; however, he can’t bring himself to dispel the room that he’s cast.  He bargains with himself to come up with a justification to flick his wrist and take you that wouldn’t make him a monster—that wouldn’t turn you away from him entirely; it’s beyond tempting to give into his urges when one simple movement is all that separates him from the warmth of your core swallowing his cock whole.  Choking back a groan as he fists himself, he wonders if, even for the briefest of moments, the mention of him made your mind go dark, fantasizing about having his cock deep inside of you.  He wonders if he could get away with just a taste, switching places for just a fraction of a second—neither of you would notice a thing, and he would finally get his fix, and the opportunity to tremble at the tight, wet grip of your walls around him.

But he knows a moment wouldn’t be enough for him—not even close.  He knows his length would be able to reach depths of you that Zoro never could, and he wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to break you in, scramble your mind, and leave you unable to be dripping and wanting for anyone else but him.  His wrist is twitching, wavering in tandem with his resolve; he’s moments away from tipping over the edge, the word shambles at the tip of his tongue, until a soft whining of Zoro’s name vibrates through the door, the word dripping with neediness and devotion.  The sound leaves the bitter taste of bile at the back of Law’s tongue and his room falls apart, a crushing reminder that he’s alone, in a dark hallway that leads to the aquarium bar, jerking himself off in the middle of the night while Zoro gets to indulge in the comfort of your flesh.

Zoro’s name is hot on your tongue as he delivers you to burning red ecstasy, his calloused fingers rubbing circles into your aching bud as he ruts into you.  “Need you, only need you, Zoro…” you murmur as blood rushes to your face, pooling in your cheeks as you pulse around him, mind shattered and vulnerable, only for him.  The flutter of your walls makes him pull you even closer, sinking his teeth into your neck as you bury your face into the throw pillow on the ground in front of you and whimper.

“So good for me—you take it so good for me.” he mumbles; the sight of you falling apart underneath him lights a fire in soul that makes him give it to you harder—Law can hear the smack of his hips against yours through the door as he smears buds of precum across the tip of his cock with his palm.  Limp and pliant as tingles of electricity continue to dance through your skin, you’re his, to have and to hold as he sees fit.

He knows your body like the rough, weathered palms of his hand, and in turn you know his; the intoxicating way he ruts into you, filling you until you can’t think straight, along with the tremble in his thighs lets you know he’s close.  He holds you tight, the flesh of your back melting into his broad chest as he cums deep inside you, as if you’ll vaporize into thin air if he lets you go.  The simple sensation of him wrapped around you is enough to get drunk on, and you silently wish you could stretch this moment out for an eternity.

“I love you.” you murmur to him as he crashes from his high, slowly regaining control of his breathing.

It’s soft and hushed, a raw rasp in your voice as your words blanket the room in an intimate sweetness, the kind that pulls on heartstrings so harshly that the rest of the world slips away.  As Zoro echoes your sentiment, whispering a love you too in your ear and burying his head into the crook of your neck to savor the moment, Law selfishly twists your words in his mind, filling in the gaps and imagining them whispered to him instead.

“I love you, Law.”

Though it’s a mangled, manufactured creation of his own mind, he doesn’t care; just the concept of the words rolling off your tongue as you cry out for him is enough to make him spill his seed all over his jeans as he violently fucks his hand.

“I love you, Law...”

The words tumble in his head, bouncing off the walls of his skull as he comes down from his high, tormenting him.  He needs them to be real, to hear them spoken to him in hushed tones in quiet places hidden away from the world; he needs you to want him, to yearn for him, to crave him, to love him.

But you don’t.

You love Zoro.

At breakfast the next morning, Law stretches his legs underneath the table, lightly grazing his thigh against yours in the process; it’s intentional as it always is, the guilt and shame of his voyeurism doing nothing to dampen his futile attempts to sway you.

You jerk away from his touch, tilting your legs to your left, towards Zoro.  So close, but so far, it’s infuriating enough to make him clench his jaw so hard he nearly breaks a tooth.

When you’re still hungry after finishing your plate, he quietly offers you the remnants left on his plate—he can barely stomach food at the moment anyways, not when he’s plagued with visions of you splayed out and spread open underneath another man.

Though he knows he can’t have you, Law can’t help but continue to give you his scraps.

[stupid-sloot-headcanons]

Punished!Overhaul who's so clingy and desperate to get to his old man AND his Quirkless Darling. He basically just kept them confined in the base and would just stare at them, barely interact with them apart from touches here and there. He always insisted on not getting you filthy and keeping you in a pristine environment, rarely touching you without gloves. You were a prized specimen.

Now though, he's lost all sense of shame and is no longer the germophobe he once was. He's insisting to Nagant about seeing you and once she complains to AfO, she allows him to see her just so he'll shut up and stop trying to run off to find you. Breaking into your place is easy, and all she has to do is stand watch and let him get whatever he's feeling for you out of his system so he'll actually LISTEN to her.

He keeps rambling about bringing you to the boss, remembering some random offhand comments that he'd said to him when he was younger. "Chisaki, you ought to try loosening up every once in a while. You don't have to go to the hostess clubs with the other guys, but you're bound to be pent up after all this time. If you can get over that fear of germs, I'm sure you'd enjoy it. A man's got needs, even ones like you."

He wishes he had his hands back so he could finally know what you feel like without his gloves on. Now he's just burying his head against your chest, your neck, wrapping his legs around you while Nagant has to hold you down to keep from running away. "I won't let him go too far," she insists, though her voice is cold and apathetic. "He just needs to be with you for a little bit. I'll tell him he can do more with you once he does what I need him to do..." Her voice lowers to a whisper so Overhaul can't hear--not that he would be listening, he's too busy mumbling to himself and losing himself in your warmth. "I'm lying. Once he helps me finish my mission, I'll dispose of him. He won't come back, okay? If you could help me, he'll be more likely to do a better job. Just play along with his obsession, maybe be a little affectionate. I'll make sure to stop him if he tries to go too far."

When he feels you rest your hand on his back, he gasps and you instinctively pull away. You remember how poorly he used to react if you tried to touch him: immediately slapping your hand away and forcing you to sanitize, berating you for not wearing gloves to avoid contaminating yourself, stripping you and scrubbing you raw, staring intently while making you brush your teeth for ten whole minutes and inspecting your mouth after you tried to bite him in a fit of anger.

But this time, he just whines and squeezes his thighs around you. "Do it again," he pleads. "Touch me again, please, please, I need...Boss, you were right...I enjoy it, I want it...____, I want you..."

He smiles way too widely when he feels you hesitantly put your arms back around him, stroking his hair, letting him nuzzle and kiss you. Nagant nods, satisfied at how well you're playing along. You can feel him getting hard and rocking against you, making shallow breaths as he tries to chase whatever is happening to him. Fuck, the boss really was right about finding someone to help release this...this feeling. He doesn't care about filth anymore. All he cares about is his old man and his ____.

Nagant warns him that she's not going to let him do anything that requires taking his clothes off, but that doesn't matter to him. He just keeps going with his clothes on, desperately rutting against Darling until he cums with a low moan of your name. He can't even enjoy the afterglow for too long because he winds up falling asleep with a content smile on his face.

Nagant carefully moves off of the bed and contacts AfO to let him know that things are still on-schedule (he'd advised her to spend the night at Darling's place and then make their way to where Izuku was last sighted). She glances at you and Overhaul with pity as you fall asleep with tears on your face and your arms still wrapped around him.

The next morning, she has to really struggle to get him to leave with her. He's trying to break away from her grasp to get back to you, insisting on bringing you to the boss. But you and Nagant both manage to calm him down and promise that once he finishes his mission, he can come back and the three of you will go to the boss together. You even manage to sell it to him with a kiss to his cheek, and he has a small strange smile on his face. His voice sounds too innocent and genuinely sweet when he says goodbye for now. "I knew I was right to keep you. I'll come back as soon as possible. I promise."

[zepskies]

Break Me Down - Part 12

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

Word Count: 5,700 Tags/Warnings: Violence and peril, angst central, a touch of PTSD, and a surprise ending… 

Part 12: All Your Wicked Ways

Something was wrong. 

It was a gut instinct, but yours was far too often right. 

Ben had been sleeping for a long time. After he’d fallen asleep yesterday, you did shortly after from the combination of fatigue, pain from your broken ribs, and the painkillers in your system. 

But even after your keepers had woken you with a tray of food, Ben still hadn’t woken up.

“Ben?” you tried calling to him, but he didn’t rouse from where he laid in his cot, one arm pillowed behind his head and the other across his stomach.

You got up, your pain making you slow as you made sounds of struggle. 

You went to the large window and supported yourself with your hands on the glass. You called his name again, louder.

His face scrunched a little, but your voice couldn’t penetrate the Novichok haze—the poison being pumped into his cell to dull his senses and keep him too drowsy to function.

You paused as you heard heavy footsteps coming down the hall. It turned out to be several, in fact, as a team of Vought security guards came to your cell. 

“What’s going on?” you asked. No one answered you as they grabbed and handcuffed you with your arms in front of you. You struggled, but you didn’t have the strength or energy to give much of a fight. 

They wheeled in what looked like a large metal casket. You had only seen one of these in pictures, but it had to be a cryochamber. 

A doctor in her mid-fifties accompanied them, giving directions on how to safely enter Ben’s cell. Your eyes widened.

“What the hell are you doing?” you shouted. Panic trilled down your spine as the guards fitted themselves with special suits and gas masks. The doctor turned toward you as the guards led you out of your cell and into the hall.

“You’re being transported,” she informed you. 

“Where?”

“To a lab with better security.”

“Why? Where’s my father? I know that bastard’s still alive,” you demanded, but it seemed you weren’t interesting enough for the doctor. 

You spied her last name, Baker, embroidered above the breast pocket her lab coat. You finally recognized Dr. Tonya Baker; you hadn’t worked with her much during your time at Vought, but you knew her by reputation.

Your heart fell into your stomach. 

You struggled against the stern grip of the guard holding you and shouted, “Ben, wake up!”

Between your voice and the commotion outside his door, he started to rouse.

“Get her out of here,” said Dr. Baker. 

Your guards tried to drag you, but you dug your heels in and made it as difficult as possible. Meanwhile, Ben could hear you—when you called his name and now, while you were struggling. He finally drew enough energy and strength to open his eyes and sit up in the cot. 

Once he saw you being manhandled against your will, his fury sparked. 

“Hey!” he barked. He managed to rise off his cot and draw himself to his feet. The first door of his cell slid open for the guards in their hazmat suits. Once that closed, the second one disengaged, and they came pouring in. 

Ben fought them. He managed to punch the first one into the far wall, shaking the fortified glass. He snapped the second man’s neck and broke a leg on the third, but they just kept coming in batches of three or four. The room was misty as hell, slowing Ben’s stamina, and he gritted his teeth in frustration. 

Their strength was in numbers, and gradually, they were able to latch onto his arms, kick behind his knees to bring him down to the ground.

He saw the mask coming towards his face, and the well of panic, hearing your distressed yelling of his name—it gave him the strength to break the chain of men holding him down. 

That’s when he noticed the star bolts zipping outside his cell. 

You were still fighting against the guard’s hold. You ripped back his sleeve and bit into the man’s wrist, eliciting a yell of pain. His grip eased up enough for you to steal his secondary gun on his belt, and despite your cuffed wrists, you shot him in the leg twice to bring him down. 

You raised the gun at your next attacker—Frenchie, who raised up his hands in friendly surrender. 

“Cherie! It’s surprising to see you alive,” he said. You grinned.

“A good surprise?” you asked, and you shot another guard approaching from behind him. 

Frenchie flinched slightly, but after he watched the man fall to the ground, screaming and clutching between his legs, Frenchie’s lips raised in a more genuine smile. 

“Yes, I think so,” he teased. 

You looked past him and watched as Kimiko, M.M., Annie, Hughie, and Butcher took out the rest of the guards. You didn’t see Dr. Baker anywhere; in all likelihood, she’d fled the scene when she saw her opportunity. 

Ben still remained in his cell, and you went to the glass window. He looked all right as he met your gaze, but there were about ten bodies lying around him. His face was firm and assessing. Still, you read the uncertainty behind it.  

You sighed and turned to your team. “Hey, guys. Good to see you.”

Annie went to you first, grasping your shoulders. Her large eyes peered into yours.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Well, more or less,” was your weary reply. Your ribs were throbbing, but you raised your cuffed hands. “Think you can help me with these?”

Annie raised a hand over your cuffs and concentrated her powers into melting them, just enough for Kimiko to strike through them. You slid off the remaining metal pieces and rubbed your stinging wrists. 

“All right, let’s get a fucking move on,” said Butcher.

“Hello to you too,” you replied, raising a brow. 

“Oh, just you wait. You’ve got plenty of fucking explaining to do,” he said, leveling a finger at you. He slid it over to Ben, who watched him right back. 

“Ello, gov.” Butcher smirked. “Look at you, all gift-wrapped for us.”

He turned to M.M., who approached with an especially terrifying-looking gas mask. Your eyes widened. 

“Ready?” Butcher asked him. 

“Ready to knock this motherfucker out and bring him into custody,” M.M. grimly agreed. 

“Wait,” you said, stepping past Annie to get between M.M. and Butcher. 

With your back to the glass, you didn’t see how Ben’s eyes followed you. They hid a thread of uncertainty. He had a feeling you might do this, but he didn’t know what to expect from your team. 

“It doesn’t have to go down like this,” you told them. “He took out Homelander. He could help us bring down Vought. This fucking tower, the whole thing.”

“Is that why you ran at the airport?” M.M. asked. Then he shook his head. “Never mind. We don’t have time to debate this.”

You held out a halting hand. “Look, clearly they're not done making supes if they brought back a new and improved Black Noir. Now they’re selling V24 to the military. They need to be stopped, and with our help, Ben could do it.”

“Oh, it’s Ben now, is it?” Butcher stared at you shrewdly, then at Ben himself. The latter just tilted his head, his mouth quirking with an edge of cockiness. 

Butcher raised a brow. His gaze returned to you, noting the way you stood your ground, but pursed your lips. You were hiding something…a guilty conscience, perhaps. 

“Bloody hell. You two’ve been fucking,” he realized. 

Shocked silence spread through the rest of the team. 

Your embarrassment radiated off your flushing cheeks, and it took everything within you to resist looking back at Ben. You didn’t want to see what kind of expression he wore, but you could guess.

“No,” Annie regarded you with shock. 

“Seriously?” Hughie remarked in a high voice. 

“That’s…well, that’s none of your goddamn business, is it?” you tried to be stern, but your embarrassed shuffling made it lose some of its effect.

Kimiko shared raised brows with Frenchie, who just looked amused. M.M., on the other hand, grimaced with disgust. That actually stung, but you crossed your arms. You didn’t have a good answer for them. Not one you wanted to say in front of Ben, anyway.

“I think we can come to an agreement here,” Ben said at last. 

You turned around, and he gained the attention of the others as well. He briefly met your gaze before he shifted to Butcher. 

“Worked for us once, before you tried to double-cross me,” Ben said. 

“You want to take out Vought.” Butcher glanced at their surroundings, specifically Ben’s cell. He gave a snort of amusement. “I could understand that.”

“Butcher,” M.M. said sharply. 

“We–we should probably get out of here now,” Hughie pointed out. He looked back down the hall nervously. You agreed with him; any moment now, more guards could be coming. 

“Think about it,” said Ben. “The only way you’re getting that mask on me is with a fight. One you’ll probably lose, fucking miserably. We can have the same deal as before, no strings. Until Stan Edgar and Noir are dead.”

It took Butcher all of seconds. 

He turned to Frenchie and said, “Open her up.”

“Butcher, what the fuck!” M.M. argued. 

“What do you fucking want from me, eh? Their special ops security will be all over us soon,” Butcher said. 

But he shared a meaningful look with the other man that you didn’t miss. It sparked your suspicion.

You stepped back as the first door unlocked after Frenchie hacked the commands. Then the gas misting up the cell receded.

There was an immediate reaction from Ben. He blinked in relief as he started to breathe easy. The brain fog making it almost impossible for him to stay alert slowly ebbed. 

He took one step into the hall before it happened—all in a rush, but not unexpected. He blocked M.M.’s punch and tossed him across the hall. 

Someone jumped on his back. He heard you shout, but before he could rip off the hanger on, Kimiko slipped the mask over his face and deployed a heavy dose of nerve gas. It was enough to drop him to his knees as his eyes rolled back into his head. 

Lights out. 

On the way to Supe Affairs, you weren’t happy, but there wasn’t much you could do. 

You were still in your Vought-issued gray pajamas, bare footed as you rode along with your friends in Frenchie’s van. In the very back was the haul of Ben, laid to rest in a chamber keeping him sedated. 

You had to explain to the rest of them that your father, Jonathan, was Stan Edgar’s Chief of Security. You were a cog in Vought’s wheel once upon a time, but joining the S.A. helped you escape. Ben offered you a way to achieve what you couldn’t at the S.A.—taking it all down.

Still, M.M. looked at you like he didn’t even know you. 

“How do you explain fucking him?” he asked.

You shot him a tight frown.

“First of all, none of you know what the hell I went through,” you said. “At first, I was just trying to learn how to read him. How to survive and somehow get back home.”

Emotion clogged in your throat when you thought of seeing your sister again soon, and your mom. You thought of all you had gone through in past two months, and knew that it had changed you…

For better or worse, you didn’t yet know for sure. 

“But for all his arrogance, his chauvinism, his massive ego and general bastardry, there’s still humanity in Ben,” you said, looking up at your team. You thought they had become your friends…but you supposed you would see. 

“Why else would he save me?” you said. 

They didn’t answer. You turned your head to Annie, but even she didn’t look convinced. Though you could see she wanted to be on your side, it was difficult for her to reconcile her own feelings about Soldier Boy. You certainly understood that. 

“He’s too powerful to kill,” you also pointed out. “Putting him to sleep like this will just make it worse when he wakes up…but if he’s properly motivated, he could do some good.” 

“Or off anyone who looks at him sideways,” Butcher wryly replied. “He’s dickmatized you, love.” 

You could tell the others sided with him on this. 

“You can disagree with me,” you said, “but do you have a better way to kill Noir and take down Vought?”

At the S.A., you were able to shower and get on proper clothes in a black tracksuit and some sneakers. You weren’t allowed to find out where they’d taken Ben yet, but Grace Mallory oversaw the transport, just as she called you into her office for your immediate debriefing.  

It felt more like an interrogation, not unlike the one you underwent to be recruited for the manhunt of Soldier Boy.

You felt like a different person sitting across from her. This time you sat up tall, not intimidated by the ice blue stare that greeted you. The lines in the older woman’s face were drawn, but there was an unyielding wall within the woman that you could admire. 

It just didn’t change the fact that right now, she was your opponent. And the chess game had begun.

“You went way off-road with this assignment,” she said at last. You raised a brow. 

“I’m sorry my kidnapping inconvenienced you,” you remarked. 

“Don’t be cute. You know what the hell I’m talking about,” Grace said. “At this point, I’m debating whether to bring you into custody along with Soldier Boy.”

“I’m the one who got him back to the States,” you pointed out, sitting back in your chair with your arms crossed. “I had to get in contact with my father to make that happen. Do you know what that cost me?” 

You resisted an uncomfortable shudder. They’d given you more painkillers for your ribs, but it wasn’t enough the relieve the damage of that encounter. Not to your mind. 

“Aside from any other self-debasing tactics I used in order to do my job, not to mention save my own life. Without me, and the sacrifices I made, Soldier Boy wouldn’t be in a cell downstairs,” you finished. 

Saying those words stung. Like you were somehow betraying yourself. 

“That doesn’t fool me,” Grace said. In fact, her shrewd gaze was much like Butcher’s. It saw straight through you as she tilted her head in wonder. “You care about him.” 

Your lips tightened. 

After a moment, you answered.

“He was tortured for forty years,” you said. “Whether he admits it or not, he’s got scars just like the rest of us…but more importantly to you, he can help us take down Vought once and for all.” 

Grace considered you with a shifting light. “I didn’t think that mattered to you.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” you retorted. “But make no mistake. You will pay me what you owe me for this mission. If you think you’re going to welch on your end of the deal, then I’m about to be your long-term problem.” 

Grace huffed in wry amusement. 

“I have a feeling you will be, regardless,” she said. 

“And to that end, I will be checking in on Ben,” you replied. “He’s a person, not a weapon or a lab rat.” 

“Mind yourself, young lady,” Grace snapped, her eyes narrowing. “I admire your sense of loyalty, but in this case, it’s misplaced. That man is a bastard and a murderer, with a devastating power he can’t hope to control. And you, frankly, don’t have any standing to make demands.” 

“And what’s your body count, agent?” you challenged. “Have they all been sanctioned kills?”

When she didn’t answer, merely staring back at you, you stood up.

“You’re right, he can’t control it. Yet. Maybe that’s something productive you can get your damn scientists on,” you said. 

And before you left, you added one more thing. 

“I may not have your security clearance, your power, or your money,” you said. “But I’ve got a big fucking mouth. So unless you want me to use it, my clearance now includes seeing Ben.” 

Grace stared back at you for a moment. 

Her nails tapped on her desk as she assessed you. 

Releasing a long sigh through her nose, she relented. A little. 

“Fine,” she said. “If you can convince him to ally with us on the Vought issue, I’ll allow you to see him.” 

You nodded. For all that Grace hated Soldier Boy, she was a practical woman. She saw the same opportunity you did, and was willing to take advantage of it…even if you both knew that convincing Ben to play ball would be damn near impossible. 

In fact, this would probably be your biggest challenge yet. But this, you were willing to fight for. 

“I can start tomorrow,” you said.  

It seemed that Vought and the CIA had been thinking similarly on how to confine Soldier Boy. 

You spent one strange night back in your musty apartment before you returned to the S.A., bright and early, so that Grace could lead you to a lab below the main building. It was dark and made of pure concrete, encased in titanium. 

In it was a state-of-the-art cell with three metal walls that had to disengage before you could reach the inner room. Inside those four corners of fortified, bullet-proof glass were scarce furnishings. Ben himself was strapped to a bed, with a mask held over his face. 

At least he was out of the coffin, but it was difficult for you to watch, even as the scientists and guards unstrapped him and left the cell. The mask disengaged from his face, allowing him to breathe real air as he started to wake. But gas flooded into the compartment, not unlike Vought’s setup. 

You and Grace stood outside the glass. She glanced at you with sharp nod. Then she left you alone. 

Well, relatively speaking. There were guards posted at the entrance of the three walls behind you, controlling who got in and out of the cell area. 

Once all the walls were back in place after Grace’s departure, you let out a shaky breath and stepped forward with the plate of food you brought, along with a few bottles of water.

Ben was moving off the bed, trying and failing to clear his head as he took in his surroundings with a furious glare. It only dimmed slightly when he realized you were there. 

He made his way toward you, and you pressed a button that would allow you to safely pass his meal to him without letting any nerve gas escape the inner cell. Ben removed the lid from the plate, inspected the chicken and vegetables with an unreadable expression.

Then, with a burst of force, he took the plate and tossed it as hard as he could into one of the glass walls. 

You flinched. But by the time he looked back at you, you’d schooled your expression, merely raising a brow. 

“That was real fucking mature.” 

“Suck on my balls, sweetheart,” he retorted. He cocked his head to the side.  “Oh wait, you did. Last Tuesday.” 

You glared at him with a hot blush spreading across your face. That was not, in fact, last Tuesday. But you didn’t rise to his bait.

“Are you really willing to partner with the S.A. to take down Vought? Or was that just you bluffing?” you asked. 

Ben started to pace in irritation. You knew he was upset, and itching for revenge on anyone that would dare confine him again. You could guess what being in a cell was already doing to his mental state. 

Which was why you were here, desperately trying to help him.

“Really, would you rather be hunted all your life, or would you rather just play ball here?” you tried to reason. “Become a real ally with the S.A. Show Mallory that you can operate within the law.”

Ben looked up from his pacing just to glare at you.

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to with all these demands, huh?” 

“You, Ben. I’m talking to you!” 

He ignored you, resuming his pacing. “I’m a solo act for a damn reason.”

Oh really? you wanted to say. That’s why he needed your help to try and get to Stan.

“That got you here, now didn’t it?” you asked. 

He didn’t answer. It made you think you weren’t going to get anywhere with him today. Maybe he needed some time to cool off.

You sighed and turned to leave, but his voice stopped you.

“You’re just going to leave me in here?” he asked in disbelief. And you thought you could read a throughline of hurt behind his eyes. “I saved you…shit, I’ve lost count how many times now. And still, you fucking betrayed me.”

“Don’t you do that,” you warned. Though you felt a prickle of guilt run down your spine. “You know very well what got you here. I tried to stop it. And I’m the only one who’s on your side right now.”

“Doesn’t fucking look like it from where I’m standing.”  

You sighed in frustration. “I’ll tell you the truth, I don’t want to leave you in here. But if I can’t trust you, they never will.” 

“I don’t know what delusions you have about me,” he said, coming closer. 

“But when I get out of here, I’m slaughtering anyone who gets in my way!” he shouted savagely. 

He banged his fists into the glass so hard that it trembled, making you flinch with a gasp. A more concentrated fog smoked up the cell. Ben coughed and cursed as he stumbled back, and eventually, he fell unconscious right there on the floor. 

You watched in dismay. Despite his rage, it still hurt you to see him like this. Like a caged animal. 

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you forced yourself to leave the cell before the cameras caught them. You knew Grace would be monitoring this exchange later. 

She would probably feel vindicated at what she saw. 

The thought disgusted you as the outer walls parted, allowing you to leave. M.M. was waiting for you at the exit. He’d seen the entire thing through a monitor at the control desk, where two guards sat eating their lunch. 

“You want to protect that piece of shit?” M.M. said, jerking a thumb towards the cell. “That’s what he really is. And he clearly don’t give a fuck about you.” 

Your jaw tightened. 

“I’m not going to justify my actions to you, M.M. I know what he’s done, especially to you," you said. "But he didn’t just let me live. He protected me, saved me, more than once. From his own men even. And…he was kind to me, in his own way. I have to think that counts for something.” 

M.M. shook his head at you in disbelief.

“Maybe he went soft for a pretty girl, but that doesn’t mean he ain’t a monster,” he said. 

“That’s not all there is to him,” you said. “You didn’t see it, M.M.”

The other man watched you for a moment, before he let out a deep sigh. 

“You actually think he can be saved,” he said. 

“Maybe,” you said. “We’ll see.” 

He crossed his arms. You understood how he felt, but you couldn’t deny what your instincts told you about Ben…and your heart as well. 

“He’s right about one thing,” M.M. said. “You are delusional.”

A few days went by as the team went back to work at the S.A. as usual. But your days during your first week home became marked by your strenuous visits to Ben.

Once again, he’d rather pace than look at you. You had a feeling it helped him stay awake.

“I fought for my country,” he groused. “I don’t fucking deserve this.”

“Oh, would you stop lying?” you said in annoyance. “You’ve only ever fought for yourself. You didn’t even fight in World War II! You’ve never been a soldier. And unless you get a fucking clue, you’re going to continue being the massive man-child your father saw in you.”

Maybe it wasn’t kind, but you were fed up with his stubbornness. You turned to leave. 

“Don’t you fucking walk away from me!” Ben shouted. 

You raised a brow, and you turned on your heel. The man was livid, standing in the center of his cell.

“Or what?” you challenged. 

But you soon relented at the way he withdrew–into himself. 

You had checked the monitors before you came in; he was trying not to sleep, wasn’t letting his body rest. This place was like an open wound: complete wall-to-wall glass, no privacy, nowhere to go, and nothing to do. He couldn’t distract himself with drugs, or TV, or good food, or even good sex and conversation. 

This was terrible for him, and you knew it. 

“Ben, I want to help you,” you said, letting out a shaky breath. You laid a hand on the glass. “Let me help you.”

His gaze was angry and unyielding. 

“There’s only one way you can help me,” he said. “But you won’t fucking do it.”

The team was giving you a wide berth. Even Annie greeted you in the office with more politeness than warmth. 

Above all else, you remained professional, but it was a simple fact that your team was no longer your team. They didn’t trust you, or your judgment. And you refused to show how deeply that hurt you. 

However, until you all got a breakthrough on taking down Vought and Noir, there was still work to be done. So you fell into step back in with the Surveillance team.

That meant taking your place as second-in-command to your manager, as well as returning to your cubicle next to your coworker Jess. She hugged you when she saw you, even shed tears. 

You’d hugged her a bit awkwardly, but you were touched. You hadn’t thought she cared about you that much. 

She told you that the entire Surveillance department had been worried about you. That they’d missed you, especially your calm, supportive leadership. (Apparently your manager had been stressed handling the entire department without you.)

That at least buoyed you throughout the rest of the week. 

When you returned home on Thursday, however, you received an unexpected call. But when you saw the caller ID, you inwardly kicked yourself before you answered. 

“Louisa?”

“What the hell is wrong with you!” came your sister’s sharp voice. 

So many things, you thought with a weary sigh. You held your phone to your ear while you tried to find something to cook for dinner in your pantry. All you found was a box of spaghetti…which dragged up bittersweet memories you’d rather not think about. 

“I meant to call you as soon as I got back,” you tried to explain. “But I’ve been in full debrief mode. It’s been a circus since I got back, Lou.”

You slammed the pantry shut and went for the frozen dinner in the freezer.

“I don’t care. I didn’t hear from you for almost two straight months…” 

You knew the S.A. hadn’t told her anything about your kidnapping, but you knew she had to have been worrying when you didn’t check in at all after that first time in Medellin. The sound of her emotion-choked voice made your own eyes sting. 

“I’m sorry, Lou. I’ll come visit you this weekend, okay? I’m still taking care of some things at work.” Namely a grumpy supe on lockdown. “How’s school?”

“School is fine!” she snapped. You heard her take a breath, presumably to calm herself. She had a bit of a temper, just like you, but your sister managed herself much better than you. You supposed being more well-adjusted had its perks.

“Mom was worried too, but I kept her calm. Focused on work,” she said. 

“I appreciate that. Thanks,” you replied. You knew you had to call your mom soon as well. Maybe you’d stop in on her after your sister. 

“I better see you this weekend,” she grumbled. You smiled. 

“Love you too,” you said.

“Love you…okay, I’ll let you go for now. But don’t forget!”

Once you said goodbye and hung up, you held the phone to your chest and heaved another sigh. You were exhausted, really. Sleep hadn’t been coming easy to you ever since you got back. But you knew it was nothing compared to what Ben was going through.

Which was why you visited him every day.

The next morning, you made your pitstop to the “cellar,” as you’d been calling it in your mind.

You’d brought whatever Grace allowed you to give him, like books and magazines, and an old iPod to listen to music on, but he mostly ignored you.

This time, however, he seemed in a different mood as you sat in a plastic fold out chair and ate your breakfast with him, on your side of the cell of course. You took another bite of your blueberry muffin while he pushed aside his bland-looking eggs. 

“So, how much did you get paid?” he asked. His tone was nonchalant, but his gaze was accusing. You let out a breath and looked up at him. 

“Enough to put my sister through college and pay off my mom’s debts,” you told him. “I took this job for my family, Ben.”

His finger tapped on his arm, but he didn’t relent. “Selling out is selling out.”

Wow. He really had the nerve to compare you to the way his team sold him out.

You’d tried to be nice. You really did. But he could be such a massive pain in the ass.

“You don’t seem to understand just how much shit I’m in for trying to help you right now,” you said. 

Ben mustered up some strength and got up from his cot. He drew near to you, crossing his arms.

“If this is your idea of doing me a fucking favor, then I don’t need it,” he said angrily. “I don’t need a naive little girl like you to help me do jack shit.”

You set down your muffin and stood to your feet, matching his glare. 

“Like you didn’t need my help to get into Vought Tower?” you pointed out, satisfied by the way he piped down. Silently simmering. 

“If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even be awake right now,” you added. “You’d be back in an ice coffin.”

And that could still happen if you couldn’t convince him to cooperate with Supe Affairs.

“Fuck off,” he snapped. “And fuck you.”

Oh really? You frowned. At this point, you wanted to slap him. It seemed to be his sheer stubbornness and ego that was keeping him from his own freedom, and that, you just couldn't tolerate.

“You know what?” you said, grabbing your muffin and your fold-up chair. “Suck my dick, Ben. When you’re ready to talk to me like a human being, tap on the glass.”

You left him behind to do your real job, and this time, you didn’t let him halt your steps.

You’d scarcely entered your apartment that evening, when a shadow on the living room sofa gave you a small heart attack. 

You flipped on the lights and found your younger sister, arms crossed with a raised brow. On the coffee table in front of her was a glass of soda. It looked like she’d made herself comfortable while waiting for you.  

“Louisa! What are you doing here?” you exclaimed, with a hand on your chest. “Why the hell are you sitting in the dark?”

“I heard you coming up those rickety stairs and thought I’d pay you back for disappearing in South America,” she said. 

But soon enough, wide grins took over both of your faces. 

You pulled her into a big, warm hug. Tears burned in your eyes, and one or two slid down your cheeks as you tried to get ahold of yourself. 

“I missed you so much,” you confessed. You were just slightly taller than her, able to comfortably pet her hair and press a kiss to her cheek. Louisa was just as emotional, her pretty eyes filled with happy tears. 

She was about to speak when the glass on the coffee table suddenly shattered. 

You both flinched, and your sister gasped. You held onto her shoulders tighter, more protective as you assessed the room. You listened closely. 

A shot rang out, but it hit the wall beside your head. You moved at the last moment and narrowly avoided the third shot that would’ve struck you between the eyes. 

“Get down!” you yelled, forcing your sister to crouch along with you and move across the living room. 

Bullets tore with a vengeance through the windows, crashing into vases, picture frames, shattering the surface glass of the wooden coffee table, and ripping into the sofa until its internal fluff rose into the air like cotton confetti.

You protected Louisa’s head as you both took shelter behind the sofa. 

“What’s happening?” she shouted over the cacophony, but you didn’t have an answer for her yet. 

Your front door burst open and shattered the lock. You tensed, looking for where you stashed the spare gun you kept at home. The S.A. hadn’t gotten around to issuing you a new glock yet.

Heavy boots came through your apartment. You grabbed a piece of broken glass and told Louisa to stay down.

But when you stood and met your attacker, he was nearly three times your size. He grabbed your wrist in a firm, but not painful hold. He pulled his black ski mask down with a hand and revealed a familiar face. 

Your eyes widened, your mouth gaping in shock. 

“Frank?”

AN: 😏 Did I get'cha? Did I? Let me know in the comments. 😂

Next Time:

“Wait, wait. You’re not getting out of this.” Louisa leaned over and grabbed your hand. “What’s the deal with you and Soldier Boy? I thought the whole point of your mission was to capture him.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. 

“I was on the job, things went sideways, I got captured, and things got…complicated.” 

Frank huffed. “I think the kids are calling it Frenemies with Benefits.” 

Keep Reading: PART 13

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[lokischocolatefountain]

setting boundaries fanatic here ! i would love to see peñas wife (when she’s not the wife yet) with the guy you mentioned she was at the restaurant with. for a while since we know she is mrs. peña ;) it would make so much sense knowing she tried dating another guy, fucking, going out with him, but he isn’t her future husband

Comparison

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Pairing: Past Javier Peña x Reader, Reader x Original Male Character (David)

Summary: She set boundaries with Javi. It was the right thing to do, but sometimes she wishes she hadn’t done it at all.

A/N: Anon, you have awakened something in me (longing). So here’s a little Drabble of Peña’s ex-fuckbuddy, future wife with another guy. The guy’s alright. But he’s no Javier Peña.

She whimpered and threw her head back as the orgasm that built up brought her crumbling down from her high. She bit down on her lip, afraid to make noise. It wasn’t much of a problem. Not anymore. Her neighbors must be happy now.

She turned to look at her bedroom door, making sure he hadn’t come out. She removed her hand from her pants, her flingers glistening from her release under the low light in the living room.

She pictured Javi, her cum coating his long thick fingers. The way he would smile smugly at her from between her legs before licking her off his fingers. How he would undo his belt only after he’d undone her under his fingers or lips at least once. Her pussy clenched around nothing at the mere thought of him. Fucking pathetic. If only her pussy could feel that way for David.

Forget feeling things when a guy wasn’t even around. She wished she felt something when he was deep inside her. David wasn’t bad per se… But she’d had better. She’d had Javi. She wondered if she would be satisfied with David if she’d never let Javi in her bedroom.

There was no point thinking of that now.

Javi was long gone. Scared off by what he surely perceived as commitment. Perhaps she should’ve gone along with him, let him play fuckbuddy and boyfriend for as long as he wanted instead of forcing him to decide. But it was for her own good. It was stupid to keep spreading her legs for a man who didn’t know what he wanted. Stupid to let him pull her into his web of uncertainty, make her doubt what she wanted with him.

She gulped down her glass of water and set it on the coffee table before walking back to her bedroom. David was fast asleep, blissfully unaware that his partner had to go fuck herself in the living room though he’d made her come. And he was the kind of guy who asked after if she really came. Javi never had to check. When he made her come, he knew. Fuck, her neighbors knew. When she was at work the next day, her friends knew from her gait.

Comparison was an useless endeavor. It brought nothing but the dull ache in her chest of missing a man who was never hers. She opened the last drawer of the chest by her bedside. It was devoid of everything but the plastic ashtray she bought for him to use in her apartment. She hadn’t put much thought into it. Didn’t try to pick one that fit well into her decor. Like the man who put his cigarettes out in it, the ashtray didn’t belong in her life. Just something temporary, unhealthy. She shut the drawer and slipped back under the covers.

She pulled the blanket over herself and forced herself to wrap herself in his arms. In his sleep, he pulled her close. Her body stiffened, rejecting the unfamiliar touch. But it would have to do for now. Until she got him out of her system.

.

.

.

I love me some longing, so thanks for this idea, anon. And that’s got me thinking…what if there was more longing for Javi and his wife? Maybe years into the future, and with a lot more heartbreak and naturally a lot more longing? And what if I have 3k words of it in my google docs? 👀 Until that’s out, I have a politician Javi fic coming up. Here’s a little teaser for it

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[backfromtwitterforw]

Tubbo did such a good job portraying his depression. The auto sabotage of self isolation by pushing people away, the belief that either no one will understand, that no one will care, or that they won't miss you and they'll leave eventually anyway so why bother?

This kind of self destruction that destroys people around you, the "hurt people hurt people" thing, very clear with Sunny. He tries his very best has a father, he does. He said that she matters, that he cares, but this emptiness consumes him in a stronger and more subtle way. It doesn't take anything else into consideration, not even the love from or of his daughter.

That's why q!Tubbo became a character that I truly love. His depression rp hits really close to home for me. Having distractions that help you forget how bad, how empty you're feeling inside. And you hide it most of the time, but when your close friends notice, they don't know how to react except directing you towards what made you happy for a while: your distractions.

And q!Tubbo being told either behind his back or in front of him that all he needs is Fred, or a lover in any form, or that create is all he misses, might have made him feel unseen in his emotion and might have contributed to drive him further away from the ones that could've helped.

I've seen theories saying that q!Tubbo's purpose is the create mod that's missing, and that having access to create again would bring him back, because he took that 2 lifes deal only after create was deactivated. But he had suicidal tendencies way before. If I remember correctly it appeared event before fit and pac were a thing, right?

So that's why I'm very curious about what this purpose will turn up to be. I get it if they do something really concrete like a code line, or the create mod even. It's easier for the rp. Plus the Creature saying that q!Tubbo was never alive to begin with (or something like that) makes me believe he is kind of a robot, a creation himself, so a missing code line in his system would make total sense. I'm just putting words on how good his rp is/was in this story line and how real it felt for me.

[shuamorollss]

on the court — basketball player!nrk x fem!reader

You only wanted to support your older brother, Jake on his basketball game. Even how smoothly their game was going, you didn't expect that you'd be the reason why a few points have costed your brother's team. Not entirely your fault, of course.

fluff, romance, comedy, humor, warnings— not proofread/errors ahead, Ni-ki and Y/N share the same age, Y/N can drive a car, half-assed ending kinda... I tried my best, 2.3k wc + reblogs are greatly appreciated!

additional notes— Italicized parts means flashbacks , used the K-12 school system in this fic... to avoid confusion, Jake is a 6th year student (Senior high) which is he's along in the age of 20 yrs old and both Y/N and Riki are in their 4th year (Junior high) which makes them both 18 yrs old! , reader's brother was originally Heeseung so please point it out for me in my inbox if Heeseung's name is still mentioned here TT I might've missed a part , author's note at the end.

You could sense the bright contrast in between your closed eyes. Slowly going back to your full consciousness, you open your eyes. Widening the gap of your lids, everything was bright and rather blurry. You could feel yourself laying on a soft mattress. The room was white, though a figure of your current vision paved the way of the brightness. Your eyes immediately met with the dark figure just beside you, sitting. You wondered if it was Keeho, however, from what you remembered, he didn't look like that, nor dressed like that earlier.

As your vision becomes clearer, it was to your dismay that it really wasn't your friend beside you.

Someone who had short hair, subtle blonde streaks, and his face structure was sharp. He was wearing casual clothes now. Not the fit you remembered him wearing when you last lay your vision on him.

His brows rose in surprise as he had met his gaze with yours.

"You're awake!" he exclaimed.

You don't know who he was.

He was a stranger. A man, just someone whom you have never met. So how did you get yourself here, waking up from unconsciousness with an unfamiliar worried man beside you in the first place?

…

Your hands control the wheels as you try to drive hastily. Your friends were counting on you to get to the sports center in time, with numerous phone calls from Sieun, adding the endless vibrating from your phone already makes you feel the pressure. You didn't let yourself drown in your own thoughts. All you wanted was to get there in time and have enough space to get seats.

"Yn?!"

"Took you long enough."

You have finally met with Keeho and Sieun outside the stadium, both of them having their arms crossed, frustrated by your late entry.

"Sorry guys. Traffic." You gently rub your nape, letting out a nervous laugh.

"Traffic my ass." Sieun said, who started to make her way inside the stadium. Both you and Keeho followed along her steps as she rants about your tardiness. You didn't mind, you were used to Sieun complaining like this and instead of being irritated, and besides, she doesn't seem to take her rants about things like these that seriously.

All of you went into the inner stadium to see hundreds of people crowding inside, attempting to spot places to sit.

"Sieun calm down, besides we have seats now." Keeho assured. The seats you three in were beside the court. Like literally beside the court. You could see all the athletes clearly just a distance from you, preparing for the game.

"What a jackpot. Surprising for a really crowded stadium… This should've been occupied by now." Sieun stated, her frustrations on where to sit have now faded, now that the best seats are now taken by them.

After a good minute of prepping yourselves, you saw a man's figure on the court jogging towards your direction, and to all of your excitement, It was your brother.

"Jake!" You all greeted him in unison, eyes sparkling at the sight of the man making his way towards where you guys stand.

"You all should thank me for that." He spoke, patting his sweaty forehead with a face towel.

"Look at our Jake! The captain of the Decelis basketball team." Sieun stated, nudging the side of Jake's arms.

"We know you'll do good out there dude!" Keeho added.

"The opponent stands no chance against y'all." You added once more, your hand messing his hair.

"Now I'm more encouraged to beat their asses." Jake remarked, extremely appreciative by the boost from his little sister and his dear friends.

The three of you continue to show him your full support as he waves goodbye, jogging back to his teammates.

The Stadium was filled with people, all of the seats were occupied and the continuous echoes filling the stadium made you hyped. The two schools that are competing are none other than two of the most prestigious schools in your country, and given to you that this is the semifinals means there's more to it after this one.

And you wanted to see your school compete once more in the Grand Finals.

The game started and you cheered for Jake and his team. They were doing good, you were having a positive thought on this game however you'd already expect the other team to hog scores a few minutes into the match. Being that this is the semifinals, competition would be difficult.

You spent the whole game just yelling and cheering at any given time, to the point that you finally felt the sting on your throat, causing your voice to rasp and unable to reach your voice at a high volume. So instead of forcing your voice to yell, you just sat and watched the game quietly.

As you watch everyone, your eyes went from anyone else on your brother's team to only a certain teammate of his.

He was cute, even better at playing than Jake in your opinion.

His hair was elegant, even if he's sweaty, his hair looked like it's been newly washed, in basic terms, fresh even. His eyes were sinister yet looked so adorable.

Your eyes were locked onto his figure, and when he shot the ball you quickly stood up, screaming "Yeah!" with your distorted voice, not even considering your current sore throat.

Sieun and Keeho were too focused to notice that you started cheering for one player only. After all, their support was on the whole decelis basketball team, so they wouldn't send suspicious glances on your way.

After a few more rounds, with Decelis leading, an unexpected circumstance may have cost a few points off of Decelis.

And you weren't expecting that you would partly be the reason why.

You were just about to get your phone

As another Decelis member makes his way on the court, he stops just a few steps in front of you. Your eyes gazing at the man then back to the one you seem to have all the attention on, passing the ball to the guy in front of you.

You saw the ball getting tossed to the player in front of you, yet suddenly he dodges. You on the other hand, was unable to move at the exact time you see the ball going directly to you.

…

"So… that's what happened...?" You raised a brow. Sitting comfortably on the infirmary bed as you were just all ears on the whole story you got here.

The other nods guiltily, having his head lowered as he does so. Stealing glances on your way.

Your memories slowly gathered in your head, and the last thing you realized is that this was the man you had all your attention to earlier during the game.

Your mind sets elsewhere other than the worrisome point of the whole predicament, you were giggling in your conscience that this was destined to happen… Of course, you had delusions get the best of you, though you were still able to show a calm and collected demeanor.

"I'm so sorry by the way, I didn't mean to," He took a deep breath, "I was surprised when Yeonjun dodged it. I didn't even know I passed it really hard."

He now had the courage to look at your state. His eyes correspond to a frightened puppy and you were not gonna lie that it was adorable to see him feel so disappointed in himself for a minor ruckus.

You didn't even have a bruise or a black eye, you just had a mild concussion, laying unconscious until you finally opened your eyes returning you to your normal state.

But if you were in his shoes, you'd totally feel the same as him now.

"I'm so sorry, I had to insist of backing out from the game in the meantime to look after you,"

"Jake was supposed to be the one here but I insisted on staying since I'm the one who you know…" He hit his hand as it was gestured to a C. You perked up your lips at his demonstration, also finding his constant apologies quite adorable.

He really did regret it a lot, though you didn't mind.

"Hey, it's fine. I don't think it's that serious. "You reassured, the other only gazed at you intently.

"You don't have to worry about it, I'm perfectly fine… But besides that now, I haven't seen you before," Riki's eyebrow rose, not expecting those words.

"Maybe because I barely visit my brother's practices but I swear when I do, I never see you practicing with them."

"Oh, I must've not been in them… Sometimes I don't attend practices for reasons, so maybe you came to watch when I wasn't in them? Just maybe." He gushed, you only sat to hear more of his stories… You slowly faw over his presence as he talks about his likes, dislikes, favorite places, and basketball stories all in a span of 10 minutes. You couldn't imagine if Jake was the one to look over you instead, he'd probably make fun of you while you were unconscious or so.

Well, Jake isn't actually like that, you were just thankful to have him give in and prioritize winning for his team rather than looking after you and costing them a few more points. Which led him to look after you…

Who's… him?

Your eyes widen to the man talking in front of you, unaware of his name during the whole conversation. How can both of you be this dunce at the same time.

As you were about to ask for his name, he stood up. "I better head back to the game, since you're feeling much better now,"

You only nodded in response.

"I'll tell Jake his girlfriend is doing okay!"

Hold up— What?

You winced confusingly at the words that left his mouth. He's getting the wrong idea.

As his figure fades any further you yelled a "wait!" On his way, the boy frighteningly stopped his tracks, facing you once more.

"Let me introduce myself…" You spoke up, a mere suggestion for him to do the same as well.

"O-Oh… OH!— I'm sorry, I think I introduced myself when you were still unconscious on that bed… I'm Nishimura Riki! I'm in my 4th year."

"Oh… I'm also a 4th year student."

Riki subconsciously tilt his head, as if he's questioning so much just by the similar years you two are in.

"I didn't know Jake likes girls way below his age."

You winced once more. This was a gross assumption, you couldn't imagine being in this type of situation yet you're here now.

"I'm Y/N," You paused for absolutely no reason, probably for the effect.

"I'm Jake's sister."

Riki's heart sank, immediately having countless daggers of embarrassment stabbed him way through all of his body. He couldn't imagine this was happening, he genuinely thought that you were dating their captain. When he saw you and two other people going through a tough crowd in order to get into the three vacant seats so close to the court, he thought you were one of the prettiest among the crowds. It was silly of him to think that to a random girl of course, though having your presence made him more competitive and encouraged him to do his best in order for you to see him shine (and indirectly impress you).

He did feel quite disappointed when their team captain, Sim Jaeyun, ran towards you and you began ruffling his hair so cutely. Losing his hope and backing out on his interest to you since he didn't wanna meddle in relationships he shouldn't be in, also he doesn't like when their captain gets angry, and common knowledge is that homewrecking is absolutely bad.

Tracing his thoughts back to reality, his face slowly turned tinted red, flustered at the utter embarrassing assumption that he held with himself for the whole time he looked after you.

"I… I am.. I'm- I'm so sorry!" He freaked out.

"I didn't know, so I assumed you two— Why did I even assume that you two were a thing?! "

"Why did you?" You questioned calmly, a cheeky smile plastered on your face, cutting off his freaking out state.

"I-It's just I saw… you teasing Jake earlier, like messing his hair and all— so yeah, you were doing that before the match started and I just thought there was a romantic kick to it, you know?"

"And you looked at our way because…?"

"I looked to your way because you were the most prettiest girl I have ever seen and I kept my eyes on you for the remainder of the time you and your friends were reaching to the vacant seats near the court, that I also assumed that Jake saved for you and your friends…" The man inhaled deeply as he said all of that in one breath.

You could only widen your eyes at his confession, subconsciously perking the edges of your lips at how adorable he is when he's this flustered.

"I'm sorry I think I said too much—"

"No no, don't be… I think that's really sweet of you." You held your screams of triumph in, wanting to stay calm and collected.

"Since you said that, I'll just say that you also caught my attention while you were on the court,"

You paused, your heart picking up an intense pace, your eyes locking to his.

"I'm kinda glad I got you to look after me rather than my annoying brother." You joked, rolling your eyes at the mention of your brother.

"Hey, your brother was actually really worried when you got… you know."

"I knew he would be."

You both exchanged warm smiles, repeatingly nodding your head's at each silent thought.

"You should probably go back now, they need you there."

"Oh right! Are you gonna go back… also?"

"I will, I won't miss you owning that court...

Just like earlier. "

Riki's smile widens, more encouraged than ever to go back to the game and show you what he can really do.

"I'll look for you after the game, I promise."

author's note— I'm back from my hiatus!! kinda, i think?? I have a few more wips that I'm working on so i may be able to upload them in a few days or weeks! I rlly miss tumblr and writing pls pls pls bear w me w this one... I'm just trying to get my vocab juice going after a long time of writers block 😭 anw i hope u enjoy!!

perm tags— @jangwonie @jungwonize @luhvlyuna @w3bqrl @ineedaherosavemeenow @leaderwon

© seungiepup. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of the works published.

[miss-atena]

After a while of trying, I ended up uninstalling Twitter again. That app is not for me lmao.

On the other hand, though, I am feeling quirky and want to make a new HCs post of creepypasta. So...

Creepypasta characters soft spots*

Featuring: Jeff the Killer, Jane Everlasting, Nina the Killer, Homicidal Liu, Sully, BEN, Eyeless Jack, Laughing Jack, Laughing Jill, Candy Pop, Jason the Toymaker

* bear in mind I make them a tad bit fucked up in the head, so beware (though it IS Creepypasta)

Tw: slightly graphic canibalism description, mentions of abandonment trauma, canon like control freakiness on Jason's part

Jeff The Killer - expressiveness and not being easily intimidated

Jeff is a pretty... Expressive guy, to not say a huge asshole with a big ego. And even though he might not say it, he does admire someone being expressive. It took him a long time (and a mental breakdown) to start expressing himself how he wanted to. If he meets someone that is expressive be it verbally or physically, he will end up circling around them more often than others.

Hand in hand with that, if the person is not easily intimidated and has the courage to talk him out of his mean comments, he might as well ask to be friends with them. As much as he denies it, he enjoys not scaring someone by being himself from time to time.

Jane Everlasting - housekeeping skills and good music taste

Jane is not the easiest person to get along with. However, if you know how to work a stove, and knows that x product is better at cleaning windows than y, she finds than entertaining. She misses Mary so much, and having someone that reminds her of Mary, it warms her on the inside.

This is more of her being a bit of a nitpick, but she despises having to deal with screamo or those techno songs. She deals with it too much from the others, so having the chance to listen to classic romantic ballads, or some soft Jazz while reading a book, by her fave person's side, and not having a complaint at all? That's a dream. One that seems so far away to her reality, being near so many emos

Nina the Killer - foot on earth and alternative fashion

If you stayed even 5 minutes with Nina, you would understand why she appreciates someone hard on reality. Nina is easily enthusiastic and also impulsive as fuck. So having someone to keep her from breaking the whole house down, or to make sure she doesn't throw someone out of the second floor window, it really helps her out in the end, and she knows it.

Nina, although she is slowly getting better at keeping this down, is still a bit obsessed with Jeff, so alternative styles like emo and her beloved Scene style, it makes her feel like she is right up her alley. She would pick matching fits for you two, and also make a whole blog just for pictures of you two with very 2000s core stuff. Plus: hot topic dates.

Homicidal Liu - respectfulness and good cooking skills

Liu has gone through a lot of traumatic events, all his life. Some he holds the memories, after alter fusion, and others... Not so much. But what he does know is that disrespect towards his person, and what he has gone through, is something he doesn't want to go through never again. So being respectful, in the sense of not narrowing him to DID guy, or to murderer, it makes him genuinely happy.

Liu misses his family, even though it wasn't the best family. It's been 11 years since he lost all his family, so sometimes he will try cooking food that his parents used to make. However he... Is not the best cook. He tries, he really does, but it's not his thing. So having someone put the time and effort to do this small act, of cooking him the food that he misses since a teen, it makes him have butterflies. Plus, seeing his lover in an apron sounds cute in his mind.

Sully - strong morals and dark humor

Sully may share a body with Liu, but he is still his own person, as an alter. And most importantly he is the system protector. It is his role to make sure no more trauma is suffered. So, having a lover that understand that and agrees with him, it is a sight to behold to him. And most importantly, having someone that understands and respects the boundaries he puts, which are many, is important for him.

Now... The system is rather small, and so Sully is a trauma holder alter. But... His method of coping with that trauma is mostly through dark humor. Jokes about his trauma done by him or the body, is the way he knows how to cope and, in his eyes, not turn into a monster like Jeff, which he despises. Having someone letting him indulge in his not healthy but necessary coping mechanism, and even joking around with their own problems, it ends up in a great pair for him.

B.E.N._drowned - Sass, nerdiness and night owl

BEN is not really a human, and although he sometimes can be very human like due to the Moonchildren Souls, the one in control is still the Behavioral Environment Network. So he has the power to be as mean as he wants and not feel remorse. Though as a behavioral AI, he can react in many ways depending what his code finds most fitting. He didn't start liking sass, but after being around Jeff and collecting data to act based on that, besides the souls, he ended up sassy, and enjoys now having sass thrown back at him. It is a familiar environment, which is something he sometimes need.

He is based around on TLOZ, and his souls had that common interest besides other games, so of course he wants a gamer to fit with him. He doesn't sleep, so having someone also be a night owl and stay the whole night spending time with him, letting him learn their functions and behavior, it makes him enthusiastic, as much as malevolent code can be.

Eyeless Jack - Patience and a hard stomach

Jack, different than a lot of the others, didn't want to be here at first. And as such he isn't the easiest to approach, sometimes being plainly reclusive, and others being aggressive. Having patience but still perseverance to approach him at his own time, and let things go in his time, it makes him trust you even more.

Jack, as we all know, is a human eating being. Not sure cannibal is the right term since he isn't a human anymore, but I'll use it for now. As a cannibal, it is not easy to be around him sometimes. He is not afraid to eat in front of others if needed, or to harvest organs out of a human carcass. If you can endure at least the putrid smell of organs and blood, than you will find EJ to not be he worst to be around.

Laughing Jack - playfulness and clingyness

LJ is, as we all know I assume, a clown! So what would I clown like to be around? People who know how to have fun, of course! Playful battering, joking around, a good sense for a performance, this are all things that, summed by playfulness, make Jack feel alive. The feeling of succeeding at making his lover laugh till their cheeks turn red, it is a sight to behold to him, so having a good sense of playfulness makes things a lot easier.

On the other hand, Jack was once abandoned for years in his toy box. He grew to feel lonely, sometimes even around others. Having someone being close to him, even when not the best option to do so, and the feeling of being wanted all times. It does magic to the clown.

Laughing Jill - good sense of humor and optimism

Jill, like Jack, is a big clown lady and as such, she loves to make people laugh and have fun! She isn't the fondest of the more mean plays, but she does love striking jokes around, so having a good sense of humor is the best option of a pair for her!

Although she was made to be happy and make others happy, she can have negative emotions too. But having someone that will make sure to let her know that there is light at the end of the tunnel, and give her the care she gives to others, it is truly special for her.

Candy Pop - chaotic nature and being laid back

Candy is to an extent a genie like entity. And as such, they love to bring chaos, and distort stuff to their amusement. And as such, having someone that matches their personality is what they want. C'mon, who doesn't want to see what can happen if they inflate their head like a balloon? I do.

As such, someone strict to the rules, and someone that wants them to be in line at all times bore them if not anger them. They need some semblance of freedom. Being laid back, doing your stuff when they do theirs, and uniting forces to end get out of trouble, that's love to them.

Jason the Toymaker - size difference and art appreciation

Jason is someone that likes to feel in control of any and all situation. He is a manipulators, so making sure he is the one up top, it's what he wants ever and ever. Having someone smaller than him, it gives him a semblance of control, even if only illusory. It plays in his control freakiness.

As a toymaker, he is an artisan. He loves to create intricate toys, which are pieces of art in itself. Having someone that appreciates it and praises him for it, it boosts his already inflated ego. He might plainly squeeze you for your praises, as a thank you.

That's all I got for now, might do some others plus the proxies on another post.

Reminder that it is cool if you don't agree or like these, y'all can have your own opinions and it is very valid! This is how I like the characters (aka sick in the head).

[theregardedminecrafter]

As someone watching from q!Charlie’s/Gegg’s perspective, is definitely interesting to watch people talk about those who openly speak against working with the federation naive/idealistic when it really doesn’t feel that way. (Warning: there will be rambling and ranting and what feels like disjointed thoughts)

(I am mostly going to talk about Charlie because he is the one I watch so I understand him the best.)

The first exchange after the debate that Baghera and Charlie had was Charlie commenting that no matter who was voted in they would be doomed and her almost immediately agreeing.

I’m pretty sure Charlie is fully convinced he isn’t going to make it to voting day. For more then what felt like 90% of the stream he and Gegg were holding a totem. Even when Bad gave him extras and assured him he should only hold them in case he feels endangered. The only time he stopped holding a totem was in between the end of the debate and Bad handing him more totems in a reminder of The very fragile single life that the self aware very accident-prone Charlie has and when he was back in Eggsile, his lonely little beach.

While he is trying to stay alive, Gegg’s platform isn’t really to become the president. The point of running is to spread the message. He even admitted that not only does he think none of the people running are fit for president, including himself, but that the role of president is entirely forced onto them by The Federation. And is just another way to control them.

Being an Anarcho-Socialist, all government is sorta on Gegg’s list. Charlie did say that Gegg would definitely probably light himself on fire if he were to become president when Forever asked.

Also Charlie is very very aware of the power imbalance the federation has on them. (note: the life system he keeps stressing about) I don’t consider him the most haunted man on the server for nothing.

This man has however literally dealt with both the devil and angel Rubius toying with him and his family.

And one of the only times Charlie has dealt with Cucurucho was in a situation where Charlie was in caves deep beneath his eggsile, with his location off so noone can find him, stumbling into Cucurucho who then vagued him about his daughter(she was dead at this time but because of where he was he didn’t know that) and when Charlie got pissed and started to pressure for more open concrete answers, Cucurucho held him at gunpoint and shot around him. And Charlie made it clear that he knew Cucurucho wasn’t there to kill him and was unafraid. And after having El Mariana’s pov of Juanaflippa’s final death seemingly forced into him like a flashback.

He then tries to murder Cucurucho, got shot and then revived by it, tries to kill it again, and then swears to find a way to kill Cucurucho after it leaves. (Even though he acknowledges that it seems to know everything/is omniscient and how it took nothing from his sword)

After all, Charlie is someone who has lost everything he cared about more then twice over, he has had nothing to lose.

Which is probably why the whole openly fuck The Federation attitude he and Gegg have make sense to me. It doesn’t matter how strong they are because Charlie has always been stubborn and fighting against all the odds. He and Gegg refuse to be silenced and want the people to think and will cling at the chance to do that until either of them (in their own mind) inevitably die. The election might be rigged and there might be a target on his back, but he is very clearly aware of that and acknowledges that.

This is not an election for Charlie and Gegg, it is a stand against it and all of what The Federation stands for.

Thank you for listening.

[still-a-morosexual-help]

I just read Mammon's The Guardian Demon devilgram. Adorable! Mammon is top tier dad. My mc will fight those witch and raise that girl in Devildom with her father as God (or whatever obey me verison of God is) intended! I need dad Mammon in my life right now. Does the game mention his daughter more in other stuff?

Also Imma punch Solomon in the face. Sometimes this game makes it really hard to like Solomon. Why is he written to go out of his way to put down Mammon!? Yes, all of his brothers do it, but at least they know him and care about him when they're not being shitheads to each other. Why does Solomon have so much beef with Mammon? I'm not saying he can't, because everyone does. But idk it feels more aggressive when it comes from Solomon. Maybe it's because I haven't seen much of his character aside from the devilgrams and pop quizzes.

-💙🐏

Yes!! Definitely one of my favourite devilgrams! Outside of the Devilgram they mention her in S1 and in S3, I believe, Mammon mentions the three witches and going up to the human world frequently to meet them

Okay so about Solomon,

-> He thinks in a very practical way rather than an emotional way and, though his constant smile and upbeat attitude may not show it, he's rather cynical (the complete opposite of Mammon). We see this a lot in Nightbringer, where he's constantly preparing for a fight between the human world and other two realms and is heavily skeptical when MC talks about making the other two realms see humans as equals without it leading to a fight.

-> He talks about how demons (and angels) look down on humans and about wanting to make them see humans as equals but he himself seems to see demons as lesser than humans. He somewhat admits this in s3? s4? where he says he only started seeing demons as friends recently. But even this doesn't stop him from collecting them and trying to use them as weapons against their own people if he needs to

-> Solomon has lived a long time and it's made him very stuck in his belief that demons (and angels) see humans as lesser beings and nothing, other than proving it wrong through force, will change that. Even though we do see the attitudes of demons changing slowly throughout s1-4 with Diavolo's pilot exchange program

-> Solomon doesn't really have any family members or even close friends when he's first introduced in S1. The closest people to him are Asmo, Barbatos and Thirteen and we already know that he didn't see the demons he had pacts with as friends until recently. So that just leaves Thirteen, with whom he has a very atypical friendship. They care about each other but they wouldn't put each other before anything else. He doesn't seem to have the best understanding on what typical (specially familial) relationships are like. This is why Solomon initially believes that MC, being human, would be like him and pick the safety of humanity over their loved ones. When almost any average human would tell you that they'd pick their loved ones over countless faceless strangers - something even Nightbringer knew

So Mammon's whole deal with the witches for the sake of some human child probably made him very skeptical. And so he tries to break it down to something that's more understandable to him, something that fits within his belief system

Eg: "Oh she's not excited to see Mammon because she sees him like a family member she just has a silly little kiddie crush on him"

^ Which is an insane thing for him to say, specially when both Mammon and MC (two of the most emotionally intelligent characters in om!) instantly pick out the fact that the girl sees Mammon as a father figure

But Solomon interprets it like a crush because crushes make sense. You can have a crush on a demon, specially if they helped you out. Hell, there are demons specifically there for you to have crushes on like Asmo and the succubi and incubi. But for a demon and a human to see each other as family? That's strange

Anyway Solomon is such a complex and interesting character, there's just so much you can unpack there, but I tried to keep this short as possible

[werewolfsmile]

tysm for answering my qs about werewolf!eliot !! not to keep bugging you lol but i remember you mentioned in the tags of a post one time about a hc/au of parker being some sort of fae or otherworldly being who’s just kinda found herself here in the non-magical world - could you elaborate on that? like how come she’s in the non-fantasy part of the leverage universe, or whether the other characters know, etc? only if you want to of course, no pressure :) i’m really enjoying reading your posts about all these ideas!

You're welcome! And you're definitely not bugging me, I love getting the chance to ramble about my thought lol (werewolf!eliot post here) (link to the post and my tags that started this)

Honestly I don't have as clear ideas for Parker as I did for Eliot, but I imagine her being some kind of changeling or air/wind sprite that was left with humans for whatever reason.

(ooh i'm getting more ideas for this the more i think about it..)

okay, Parker is actually half-fey, half-human

no one really knows who her parents were or how she came to be on her own (me included lol), she was just found on a doorstep as a baby

the people who took her in had their own issues and the state eventually intervened and sent Parker into foster care

she found out at a very early age that she was different to other kids - she could move around without making a sound, she could fit into tiny spaces - all very helpful for a young girl in a foster system that was chewing her up and spitting her out

she also discovered that she could ... not turn invisible exactly, but she could be less visible if she wanted to be; all she has to do is think about not being seen and people's eyes just drift over her

Archie had absolutely no idea what she was when he got his hands on her, but even he knew that she was beyond just a gifted child

he only realised there was something magical about her after she fell off the roof of the warehouse he'd been training her in - then walked it off like it was no biggie

fey creatures love puzzles and riddles, so of course Parker has always had a natural affinity for puzzles (aka locks)

her super artistic talent is a trait that is Entirely Parker and, given that she entered a life of crime early and was surrounded by artistic masterpieces all the time, she never even considered that other people would draw/paint/whatever with any lower skill level

this contributes to her not understanding what the fuss is over art

she gave herself the name Parker when Archie met her and asked her name; it was the first thing that came to mind

she doesn't remember her birth name and isn't bothered by that in the slightest

Eliot was the first of the team to figure out she was fey - being a werewolf, he can smell and/or sense that kind of thing on others

Hardison suspected something was up with her, but then felt bad for thinking that, but then strange things kept happening around her so he started to keep a list ...

pretty much Hardison has a red-string conspiracy theory-style board of Parker Things. He's too terrified of offending her to ask her outright, but he's more convinced every day

(he's also more in love with her and just thinks her fey-ness is another thing to celebrate)

Parker finds Hardison's board of Parker Things and is utterly fascinated. It's like he understands her better than she understands herself. He's super flustered when he finds her poring over the board and tries to make excuses, but Parker's quick to steamroll over that and demands if he knows what she is

Eliot finds them 15 mins later, stuck in an endless loop of confusion over which of them actually knows what Parker is

he just rolls his eyes, says she's half-fey, it's obvious, like, "what? it's a very distinctive smell!"

which leads to how the hell would he know what the fey are and Eliot's like, oh crap, right, they still don't know I'm a werewolf whoops

Hardison and Parker stage a coming-out for her to Nate and Sophie

(Eliot refuses to be involved but still gets roped into carrying the banner. He's still finding glitter in his hair weeks later)

Sophie is thrilled about the reveal and confesses to being a siren (or some other supernatural/magical creature that can manipulate people, idk i have less thoughts about her than i do about parker)

Nate is all like are you kidding me right now what the hell is my life

after a lot of badgering, he confesses he didn't know about Parker, although he has been ... aware of magical beings for some time

no he will not be discussing this any further, can we just get back to the con now??

Parker finds that, now she's aware of her fey-ness, her magical abilities develop further

she doesn't quite gain the ability to fly but ... yeah okay, she can pretty much fly

she wants to test how far this flying ability goes - by, of course, jumping off tall buildings with Hardison in her arms (and no harness for either of them)

Hardison flat out refuses this, so Eliot somehow finds himself the unwilling victim

of course, Parker masters flying while carrying people in no time and proves it to Hardison by just grabbing him and jumping off a building one day

(he's still in therapy for it)

Parker also discovers she can make herself kind of ... misty

this skill is harder to learn but she's already been able to make her hand go misty and whoosh inside a lock

picking the lock is harder in this incorporeal state but Parker's instincts say there's a way to do this, so she keeps practising until she can pretty much disintegrate herself and float through locked doors to rematerialise on the other side

it's a nightmare for the whole team because, sure, it's not like locked doors stopped her in the past. But now she's so excited about it all the time that any concept of privacy completely leaves her brain and she jumps in and out of rooms and safes etc any time of day or night

Wow. This ended up longer than expected! Guess I did have some ideas about fey!Parker after all..

[hiiragi7]

Related to my post the other day regarding rethinking different aspects of my identity: I've decided I'd like to try out she/her pronouns in addition to they/them.

Gender identity is... complicated. Growing up, I always felt like an imposter regardless of what gender I presented as. I was always anxious about my friends finding out I wasn't really like them. There was always all this pressure to be gender-conforming, and I never quite fit into any gender.

When I was little, I presented as a boy, and prior to final fusion most of the littles in my system were boys. Being a boy meant I could do whatever I wanted, be interested in whatever I wanted, wear whatever I wanted, as long as it wasn't feminine. I was fine with that, for a while.

Sometime in middle school, I decided I wanted to experiment with femininity and presenting as a girl, and I leaned very hard in that direction - I started growing my hair out, tried to make my voice higher, wore clothes I thought were "girly", wore cute hair accessories, anything I could to be seen as a girl and fit in.

Exploring what being feminine meant to me was a very important step forward in my life and I learned a lot about myself and what I liked, but I also faced a lot of sexualization and violence for being a girl. There was a lot of trauma that came with it. Prior to final fusion, a lot of the parts in my system from this time period and going forward were either girls or ambiguous, with a handful of very feminine boys. I learned I liked being feminine, but existing as a girl scared me.

In highschool, I came out as nonbinary and started using they/them pronouns, which I was bullied for. I didn't really know what exactly my gender was, just that it didn't neatly fit into a box. I wanted both masculinity and femininity, but I rejected being either a girl or a boy. When I was 17, I started HRT and was kicked out for being trans & on hormones.

At 18, I learned I was intersex. I then had a total hysterectomy related to hormonal issues.

Living as a multiple with DID, I had all these different lived experiences with gender that were all seperated off from each other and fragmented into parts. I couldn't even begin to imagine any sort of collective gender for myself. Everything about my experiences with gender felt so contradictory. No matter what labels I tried out, none of them ever really felt right for very long. It always felt like my attempts to describe and make sense of my gender identity were approximate at best, never quite grasping what my gender really was. (Nowadays, I find a lot of comfort in vague queer identities, ones that are broad and don't stress about the details.)

Now that I have fully fused, I have access to all these different varied experiences of gender that each of my parts held and it's been really forcing me to sit down and rethink my entire approach to my gender identity. It's rough but I can tell I've been needing this for a long time. When I really think about it, I really do want to be a girl in some form, I'm just scared of how others will react if I say that.

Along with that fear, though, is this need to live as myself regardless. If my gender shifts again sometime in the future, that's okay, and either way I can deal with how others may or may not feel about me.

This is a more personal post than usual, but I've been finding myself wanting to talk more about how final fusion has been for me, and how the ways I view myself has changed following it, and gender is a pretty major one for me.

[slexenskee]

Nest (Oneshot)

Someone, at some point, somewhere in one of my inboxes, asked me something about Hawks's more bird-like traits. I wish I could remember... literally anything else about it so I could track it down and answer it properly, but I can't so here's Gojo being sick and Hawks building a nest about it

[link] (or read below)

Getting sick is a normal and uncommon fact of life— unless your name is Gojo Satoru.

This is his reasoning for how he idiotically misses the signs of his own incoming misery until it’s too late to avoid it. He’d had a sickly early childhood, mainly due to a premature birth and a finicky eating schedule, but by the time his Six Eyes and his memories had awakened he’d gotten through the worst of it. There was still the usual gamut of runny noses pervasive in the public school system, but eventually he’d learned to filter out the worst of the pathogens. Some common viruses, like the cold or the flu, changed too quickly each year for him to do it reliably, but as he got older he just learned to keep a healthy(ish) diet and a decent(ish) sleep schedule and avoid them. 

In hindsight, that it took him this long into his parenting adventures to finally catch something from Eri was actually rather impressive. Kids were the penultimate vector of diseases; sticky hands, constantly touching everything and everyone, and spending notable amounts of time around other small human-shaped vectors of diseases made catching an illness an inevitable outcome for any parent. As it turns out, Gojo Satoru and his invincible barrier was no exception.

Anyway, so finally getting sick wasn’t that surprising, even if he wasn’t thrilled with the experience. 

But Hawks’s reaction to it… well… okay maybe that shouldn’t have been surprising either, but it sure was a bewildering thing to wake up to.

He wakes from a groggy, disorienting sleep with a head that feels stuffed full of cotton (or maybe just congestion) and only a vague recollection of how he ended up back in his bed. He thinks he actually fell asleep on the couch with Eri on his chest, but at some point he remembers being carried off somewhere. 

Eri had gotten some kind of bad head cold from her daycare. Nothing life threatening, or even warranting a trip to the pediatrician, but painful to deal with nonetheless. He hates to see her so obviously unwell and unhappy, and especially hates how little he can do for her when she’s like this. He’d stayed up with her through her miserable coughing fits, gave her steam baths when he could, and made sure to keep her on a steady clip of simple foods and fluids. In the process, he’d slept poorly himself, and spent most of his time stressing out about her and forgetting to eat or drink fluids himself. 

At first, he just assumed his poor constitution could be blamed on a criminal lack of sleep. Then he tries to take a breath through his nose and ends up in a coughing fit instead, and realizes not only is he still sleep deprived, but now also sick. 

Gojo collapses back onto the bed, sighing as he resigns himself to a pretty unfortunate next few days. 

He rolls over onto his side, hoping to clear out his lungs that way, and ends up with a nose full of Eri’s hair and a cat yowling in protest. 

This isn’t particularly unusual. Eri still sleeps with him on occasion, and when she does she sometimes forgets to close the door behind her and the cat prowls in at some point and makes a nuisance of himself by curling up right where Gojo wants to put his legs. 

But when Gojo opens his eyes to swat the cat off the bed, he’s met with a peculiar sight. 

He blinks bleary eyes out at the scene, a bit bewildered, and wondering if his head cold is making him hallucinate. 

The bed is… full of junk. 

Well, not junk exactly, but a strange and random collection of various household items that, at first, make no sense to Gojo. Every throw pillow in the house seems to have made its way into a vague circle around the perimeter of the bed, and draped across them are all the spare sheets, random pillowcases, a few sweaters, a pair of fuzzy socks he thinks might belong to Yui, the throw blanket that lives on the couch downstairs, and even a few throw blankets he doesn’t even recognize. 

He reaches for the nearest one, a plaid thing he’s very certain he’s never seen before in his life. It’s silky soft, and also still has a tag on it. He rubs his fingers across the smooth fabric, then moves to the sweater that’s bunched up next to it. It’s also quite soft. Everything on the bed is soft, he realizes. It’s not just an arbitrary assortment of all the fabric items in the house— it’s an assortment of all the softest fabrics in the house, laid out in a conspicuously circular arrangement around him. 

Gojo’s not entirely certain, but he thinks this is supposed to be some kind of nest. And he appears to be in the center of it. 

For a long moment, head still fuzzy with sleep, he just stares out into it incredulously. Then he shrugs and grabs one of the random blankets and throws it over him and Eri, snuggles back up to her, and falls back asleep. 

//

Hawks returns to the room when the light is low, so quiet Gojo almost doesn’t stir even as the other man moves about the bed. He reaches out blindly in the direction of the noise, catching the Hawks’s sleeve. 

“Oh,” Hawks says softly. “You’re awake? How are you feeling?”

Gojo gives an unintelligible grunt in response. Hawks just chuckles, moving closer to push the hair off Gojo’s forehead. “Yeah, I figured as much. I’ve got water and medicine, if you’re up for it.”

Gojo eventually summons up the energy to open his eyes. At some point, Eri and Meow have disappeared, leaving him rather lonely in this crowded bed. 

He blinks up at Hawks. “... You made me a nest.”

He made a nest, and then put Eri, all the softest things in the house, and even the cat in it with him. If he wasn’t so out of it right now, he’d be dying from the adorableness of it all. 

Hawks looks a bit abashed as he looks down at his arms. Gojo realizes he’s got a collection of sheets and pillowcases in his arms that had formerly been strewn around the edges of his the bed. “Ah… yeah. Sorry about that— I kind of made a mess! I’ll clean it up and put these in the wash.” 

Gojo frowns up at him, blaming his wretched sinuses for the way it takes him so long to realize Hawks doesn’t just look bashful, but perhaps even a bit self-conscious. He tugs a little harder on the man’s sleeve, wishing he felt a little more coherent so he could properly explain himself. 

“Don’t clean it up,” he says, voice rough with sleep. “I like it.”

“Oh,” Hawks looks surprised, and a little pleased. “... You don’t mind?”

Gojo shakes his head, which from the way his head starts swimming in dizziness after, was probably not the best idea. He has to close his eyes to stave off the nausea, and Hawks immediately starts fussing over him and urging him to sit up and take his medicine. As he does that the hero walks over to the blinds and slides them shut, dousing the room in blissful darkness. He gives a sigh of relief; he’d forgotten how sensitive he gets to light when he’s sick. 

“Better?” Hawks asks. 

Gojo makes a noise of acknowledgement, setting down the empty glass as he smiles up at him. “Yeah, thanks.”

“Of course,” Hawks replies easily, returning to his side. He settles at the edge of the bed, careful not to dislodge all his hard work, gaze worried. “Do you need anything else?”

He’s about to say no, before he thinks better of it. He makes a show of looking around the bed. “You know, it’s a pretty nice nest,” he starts, slowly. “But I think it’s missing something.”

It’s cute how Hawks sits up at attention, suddenly very alert, looking both eager to please but also a bit offended. “Missing what?” 

Gojo grins at him. “You.”

Hawks rolls his eyes. “That was embarrassing for both of us,” he mutters, but nonetheless slides in next to him without protest. 

Yeah, his game’s usually better than that, but whatever, he’s sick and he still got what he wanted. 

Back to Masterposts

[lockedtombtheories]

Second question, kinda related to the first (in terms of "what's with everyone betraying god?") is: What did Blood of Eden say to so easily cut through years of propaganda and convince Pyrrha, Cam, SexPal, and Coronabeth to join them?

Cam and Pal - they state it pretty clearly in NtN. "We left for a lyctor" (ch. 23). It definitely wasn't easy, for them, but Cam says "if the Sixth House saw fit to discuss something with insurgents, even in its infancy, then she wanted to know what". (also, "well, the Warden would want to find out" - both AYU.) Plus, the Sixth is “the Emperor’s Reason". Unlike all? most? other houses, they don't have a noble line. It's not exactly a democracy, but a merit system - to the fittest - with the Oversight Body to vote on all important decisions. 

So why wouldn't they look at God, say "your math is off" and go looking for someone who does pass their criteria? In their case they picked Cassiopeia and the devil they don't know. 

Coronabeth - I think she’s a bit of that, a dash of rejection, and possibly a sprinkle of scheming. I'll be honest, I'm never sure where we're standing with these twins! But originally, she was convinced by BoE through the maths of it all. 

“I asked her why she listened to these people, why she was throwing off her contentment along with her faith. The princess told me that she had felt for a long time that the Cohort movements didn’t make sense to her. She said what would be most economically productive was intermingling with these people, allowing immigration and absorption into the Nine Houses; that shepherd planets got more costly the further the Houses extended themselves, and that instead of creating long-lasting industry we were doing little more than slash-and-burn trading. Scattershot, she said. Notwithstanding the moral issue." (AYU) 

We don't know how much of her original plans with Ianthe, whatever those are, but it does sound like Coronabeth moved on from them - “we can do good work, Ianthe. I know people who need us” (NtN, ch. 23). Nevertheless, I suspect that Coronabeth was never going to be satisfied in a subordinate position. She's a princess, a king - she might have become the next Wake, given enough time. 

But yeah, part of her conversion was definitely also the lure of recognition. She was rejected by her sister, while BoE recognizes her for the exact talents she tried to dedicate to Ianthe. (Allow me to also point you towards this very short post of mine about Coronabeth, Tennyson's Princess, and the #gender of it all.)p

Pyrrha - What did they say to her?  Absolutely nothing. They didn't have to. She’s the one who convinced BoE not to kill her, and all she really seems to want is to retire and take care of Nona. Don't get me wrong, Pyrrha's done her own share of war crimes, but I do think that she never worshipped John the way the Lyctors did.  Her loyalties were always more personal, and they belonged to G1deon more than to John. And, well -  "Gideon’s dead, and I don’t give a fuck either. Not if I can save our skins.” (NtN, ch. 1)

[science-lings]

I've been thinking a lot about Phoenix's family, and I got carried away so I'm going to put the whole essay below the cut, I'm so normal about him

I'm sorry there's just no way that Phoenix has any sort of normal family situation, not just because they're never mentioned even in passing as he goes through extremely major life events, but also because of how he is as a person. You cannot convince me that the guy who fell head over heels for Dahlia two seconds after meeting her had any sort of reliable support system in his life. When she got arrested the only person he could think about was a guy he hadn't seen since they were both nine instead of any current person who would likely care that he almost got poisoned and arrested for murder.

While I think it would be nice if he had lesbian moms who loved him, it just doesn't quite fit in with what we know about Phoenix. I mean, even in the WAA/WTA the only photograph on display is Zak's, and if there isn't a better person to put on the wall than the biological father of his daughter who abandoned her, that's pretty sad. (though I personally like to think that his portrait was there specifically as a target for things like darts and throwing knives). Plus, we already know from the thing with Dahlia that Phoenix's primary way of dealing with trauma and abusive people is just to pretend nothing happened and force himself to forget about them.

That's not even mentioning this guy's abandonment issues and complete willingness to adopt anyone he finds into his found family with zero hesitation. He meets Ema once for a few days, someone he has no personal connection to, but because she reminded him of Maya he stays in contact with her at some capacity to the point that he keeps her investigative tools with him and can have his name be used to gain her favor. Also, there's that new years art where she gets drunk with the Wright's and Apollo. And there are several more young adults/teenagers like that, he's got that foster kid to foster dad energy.

What I think makes the most sense is either that he was given up for adoption/ was an orphan in the foster care system who was passed around a lot, never getting too attached to one family, which led to his abandonment issues, or that he had a normal family life until something happened that estranged them from him. As a staunch believer in Transmasc Phoenix my thoughts are that he had transphobic parents so when he left for university he cut them off and changed his full name which explains why he is so desperate for emotional connection at that time. He suddenly has no one but a dream to find Miles and a girlfriend whose red flags he's completely blind to.

But honestly, there are so many reasons that people could come up with that would also make sense for his character. Maybe they were emotionally abusive and since everyone around him has dead or horrifically bad parents he's just not going to ever bring it up because who is he to complain when his besties are Maya Fey and Miles Edgeworth. Maybe they were just absent a lot and he had to take care of himself (and perhaps younger siblings) until he just couldn't take it anymore. Maybe they just tried to get him a girlfriend to settle down with one too many times and he just refuses to visit them, not even on holidays like Christmas or new years. It's just fascinating to me that there's absolutely nothing about them, I think there was even one of those little (official?) comics that poked fun at the fact that he doesn't really have parents, he may not even know who they are.

I also stand behind all of the ideas from my Phoenix Family HCs Poll because all of them would be so fun to explore even if some of them are total crack HCs. Tigre is only 16 years older than Phoenix but you can't say it's not possible that he messed around in high school and his girlfriend just gave up the kid for adoption and it would be so funny if Phoenix had to put his own father into prison after he pretended to be him.

In my Fem!Phoenix AU where I'm planning on expounding upon her relationship with the Feys and her own spiritual power (Phoenix does canonically talk to ghosts sometimes), the spirit of Ryunosuke found her and kind of became her imaginary friend who appears sometimes because I love him.

Even the idea of the goddess of law making him as an indestructible little terror on the legal system would be fascinating to expand upon. I would love to read about the whole concept of law being turned into a kind of religion, is she a single omniscient god (is she single?) or is she part of a larger pantheon? What would that mean for Phoenix?

I just can't even fathom that there's something normal going on with Phoenix and his family, I think he should pull an Apollo and secretly have the most batshit family backstory. Just looking at this guy and you know he has some kinds of issues, he was an art/theater major, he's got to be a little bit of that flavor of fucked up.

[ladywaffles]

Mav and Rooster for #13, please!

mav & rooster + nudging the other one

i still do not know the meaning of brevity. send me a pairing and a prompt!

It should be a joyous occasion.

The prodigal son has returned home. Neither he nor Maverick died on their mission from hell. Ice, with his non-existent immune system, survived a lower respiratory infection, which turned out to be pneumonia, which nearly went septic. None of them managed to start World War Three, despite the fact they were all grasping at straws by the end of it.

And yet…

Maverick, Ice, and Bradley sit gathered around the dining table. It’s the same table Bradley remembers from his childhood, pockmarked with Sharpie stains, key scratches, and one notable gash from the summer Ice taught him how to properly use a steak knife.

They’ve all taken their usual seats: Ice at the head of the table, Maverick to his left, and Bradley to his right. When his mother was still alive, she would flit between sitting next to Maverick and Bradley on a whim. She’d always say she never could choose between her two boys.

Dinner is on the table in front of them. Maverick pulled out all the stops and made a spread fit for a holiday party. A rib roast, roasted potatoes, garlic green beans, and a slice of coconut cake for each of them from Ellen’s Diner across town.

They sit in stilted silence, looking at each other. Ice is glaring at Maverick. Maverick is staring at Bradley. Bradley is resolutely trying not to make eye contact with Maverick. He does not dare look in Ice’s direction; Ice is the Iceman after all, and he can feel Ice’s cold gaze from his own chair, thank you very much.

Ice taps his fingers on the table. Bradley’s learned, in the weeks since he came home, that it’s how Ice gets Maverick’s attention so he can sign. Maverick does not look at Ice at all, continuing to have a one-man Western showdown with Bradley.

Bradley trains his eyes on the table. He can just barely make out the outline of his sophomore year campaign posters for student government, if he squints. He’d tried new markers that year, in hopes of sparing the poor table more Sharpie stains, but the ink bled straight through the poster board and settled into the wood, permanently.

Ice taps the table again.

Maverick raises his eyebrows at Bradley, then kicks his ankle under the table.

Ice signs Maverick’s name, adapted from the sign for pilot: a sideways I-love-you with the fingers facing out like bull horns, and each hand forming an M instead of the normally straight palms. Maverick kicks him under the table again.

Out of the corner of his eye, Bradley sees Ice look up to the heavens, as if to ask for divine intervention to get Maverick to behave. Bradley bites the inside of his cheek. Ice knows better than anyone that Maverick lives up to his name. He might have mellowed out some with age, but he’s still Maverick at heart.

The F-14 that’s currently parked at North Island should be more than enough evidence of that.

Ice clears his throat and opens his mouth.

“Don’t!” Maverick whips his head to Ice. “The doctors said five more days before you try to talk again!”

Ice raises one perfect eyebrow, as if to say, Gotcha.

“Ice wouldn’t do that,” Bradley fills in, the words muttered under his breath. “He’s not stupid.”

Maverick kicks him again, but Ice looks pleased. At least one of you has some goddamn sense in this house, he seems to say. He feels the air moving as Mav winds his leg back, but he’s getting wise to his old man’s tricks, so Bradley beats him to the punch and sends the toe of his shoe straight into Maverick’s ankle.

Maverick smiles, a glint in his eye. Before he can act, Ice grabs both of their wrists.

The message is clear: knock it off.

“He started it,” Bradley says, throwing Mav under the bus.

“I did not!”

Ice rolls his eyes. They all know very well who started it.

“Why are you kicking me?” Bradley asks.

“Because when I went with you to get the replacement parts for the Bronco last weekend, you said you’d ask Ice what you told me when we had dinner this week.”

Ice turns to look at Bradley head on. He might be almost forty years old now, but sitting in his chair at this dining table from his childhood, with Ice’s full attention trained on nothing but him, makes him feel like a naughty teenager again.

“Oh, yeah,” he says sheepishly, glaring at Maverick as he does. “Yeah, I did say that, huh.” Thanks for throwing me under the bus, Mav.

Maverick only smiles. I give as good as I get, kiddo.

“Well, you know I’m rotating back Stateside for my next deployment, and I was wondering… Well, I wanted to ask…”

He bites his tongue. Why is it so hard to ask this of Maverick and Ice, the two men who raised him? His parents, for all intents and purposes?

“That is, base housing sucks. And I’ve still got Mom’s house, but I’ve been meaning to get the carpet ripped out and new floors put in for literal years now, and if I’m gonna do that, then I might as well get around to all the other updates and renovations I’ve been meaning to do for literal years now, and—”

“Bradley wants to know if he can move back in for a few months while he gets the house fixed up,” Maverick cuts him off.

Ice huffs a laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, yuck it up, you old geezers,” he sulks. He’s sure they enjoyed his squirming. It was probably the highlight of their very boring week.

Ice reaches out and squeezes his hand. Yes, he mouths. Of course.

“Sucks to be you, Maverick,” Bradley says as he serves himself a generous helping of potatoes. Ice tries to hide his smile in his own plate, but he isn’t fast enough.

Maverick smiles. “See? I told you! What did I say? Come on, let’s eat.”

Ice glares at Maverick again. He signs something that Bradley can’t translate for himself yet, but he’s been in the hot seat with Ice enough to know that Maverick is not even close to off the hook for whatever it was that Ice wanted to talk about.

Maverick scowls at them both, and then kicks him under the table. Again.