#the world with my real hands in ways that impact me as a person

[official-cvntified-gay]

Can i get Sugar mommy Alcina? 😭🙏

Reader found her profile and fell inlove instantly, (because who wouldn't) and idk you can do whatever you want with the rest 😗

Thanks and loveeeeee your work so much!💞💞

𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐍𝐨𝐭? [𝐀𝐥𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐃. 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

❥warnings: smut, sugar realness, public sex

❥note: I am so sorry darling it took me so long to upload this, I gotta say, writing smut is so hard(I get all hot and bothered) on my knees to all smut writers, thank you for feeding us. And thank you anon and I hope you enjoy this filth<3

❥note: request is open<3

You had no intention of diving into a sugar relationship, but curiosity got the best of you one late evening as you scrolled through various profiles on a niche site. You weren't even seriously looking until she appeared on your screen.

Alcina Dimitrescu.

It was impossible to ignore the immediate impact she had on you. Her profile was captivating, her beauty mesmerizing, and her wealth? Well, it was obvious she didn’t need to flaunt it—her elegance spoke volumes. Standing taller than any woman you’d ever seen, her striking dark hair cascading down her back, sharp cheekbones that could cut glass, and the grace in her piercing gaze made you pause. The way she carried herself, even in a few photos, was magnetic.

A playful grin tugged at your lips. Why not? You thought as you typed a message, half-expecting not to hear back. But, to your surprise, it took mere minutes before a response pinged in.

"You’re quite bold to approach me, darling. Care for a drink tomorrow night?"

Your heart nearly leapt out of your chest as you read it. Tomorrow? Alcina Dimitrescu wanted to meet you tomorrow night? The thought was dizzying.

The next evening, you found yourself dressed in your best, standing nervously in front of one of the most luxurious hotels in town. The butterflies in your stomach only worsened when a sleek black car pulled up, and the driver opened the door to reveal her.

Alcina stepped out gracefully, her figure impossibly tall, dressed in an exquisitely tailored black dress, her red lips curled into a knowing smile. You felt your pulse quicken as her golden eyes swept over you.

“Well, aren’t you just darling?” she said, her voice smooth like velvet, with an edge of amusement. “Shall we?”

You nodded, speechless, as she offered you her hand—cool, strong, and commanding. The touch sent shivers down your spine as she led you into the hotel, whisking you away to a private lounge that screamed exclusivity.

Conversation flowed easily, and though Alcina radiated power and grace, she was attentive, never making you feel lesser despite her imposing figure and wealth. There was undeniable chemistry—her eyes never straying far from yours, her voice laced with quiet seduction as she inquired about your life, your interests, all while making her intentions clear.

After that night, Alcina kept her promise, sweeping you into her world of luxury. But each encounter revealed more than just opulence. With every passing day, you started to see behind her controlled exterior. At first, she showered you with gifts—lavish dinners, designer clothes, and trips to private locations. Yet, amidst the grandeur, something in her softened.

Months passed, and your relationship with Alcina grew more profound and passionate. She wasn’t just spoiling you with her wealth anymore—though she did love to see you dressed in the finest clothes and accessories—but there was a deep connection between you two that transcended the material world. Her affection had shifted into something tender, something that felt like home. She had started trusting you with more of her personal life, and her once-impenetrable walls had crumbled in your presence.

One afternoon, Alcina decided to take you shopping in one of the most exclusive boutiques in town. She had mentioned a gala was coming up, and of course, you needed to be dressed to perfection for the event. As you entered the store, you were greeted by the staff as if you were royalty. Alcina’s commanding presence made it clear that this was no ordinary shopping trip—she wanted to spoil you, and nothing was off-limits.

Her eyes scanned the racks of elegant dresses, pausing at a sleek, black gown that immediately caught her attention. She turned to you, a smirk tugging at her lips. “I think I’ve found the one for you, darling,” she purred, holding the dress up for you to see.

The gown was stunning—long, with a dangerously high slit on one side that promised to show just enough to make hearts race. You could already feel Alcina’s eyes tracing the path that the dress would reveal.

“I’ll try it on,” you said, your heart already pounding.

The boutique’s fitting rooms were just as luxurious as the rest of the store, complete with velvet curtains and gilded mirrors. As you slipped into the dress, you could feel the fabric hugging your body in all the right places. It was a perfect fit—sensual and elegant, just the kind of look Alcina loved on you.

You stepped out of the fitting room to show Alcina, her gaze locking onto you immediately. Her golden eyes darkened with a familiar, smoldering intensity as she drank in the sight of you in the dress.

“Turn around for me,” she said, her voice low, but there was a fire beneath it.

You obliged, slowly turning so she could see every angle. The slit of the dress revealed the smooth curve of your thigh, and you could feel her gaze lingering there. The air between you grew thick with tension as she stood up, her towering form moving closer.

“You look exquisite,” she murmured, her fingers lightly brushing against the exposed skin of your thigh. The simple touch sent a jolt of heat through your body, and you swallowed hard, trying to focus.

Before you could say anything, Alcina’s hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer. Her breath was hot against your ear as she whispered, “I can’t resist you like this.”

Her lips ghosted over the curve of your neck, and a shiver ran down your spine. You tried to keep your composure, but her proximity, her scent, the way her hands caressed you—it was overwhelming. The fitting room suddenly felt far too small for the desire crackling between you.

“We’re in public,” you managed to whisper, though your voice was shaky with need.

Alcina chuckled softly, her lips brushing against your earlobe. “Then we’ll just have to be quiet, won’t we?”

Before you could protest further, Alcina was guiding you back into the fitting room, pulling the curtain closed behind her with a swift motion. The space felt even more intimate with her towering figure crowding you against the mirror. She tilted your chin up, her golden eyes locking onto yours with a hunger that made your knees weak.

Her lips crashed onto yours, and all thoughts of resistance vanished. The kiss was deep, demanding, and you melted into her touch, your hands gripping her shoulders as if to steady yourself. Her hands slid down the curve of your waist, fingers grazing the slit of the dress as she traced the bare skin beneath.

The heat between you was undeniable. Alcina’s touch was firm yet gentle, her lips moving against yours with a raw passion that sent waves of desire coursing through you. Her hands explored your body with practiced ease, and it wasn’t long before you were both lost in the moment, the world outside fading away.

Her lips left a burning trail down your neck, her fingers slipping beneath the fabric of the dress as she whispered against your skin, “I want you, here and now.”

Your breath hitched, and you nodded, unable to form coherent words. You didn’t care that you were in a fitting room, or that anyone could walk in at any moment. All that mattered was the way Alcina made you feel—desired, cherished, and utterly consumed by her touch.

As the intensity between you deepened, her lips found yours once again, and you surrendered completely to the moment. The fitting room became your world, and Alcina was all you could think about—her touch, her scent, the way she made you feel like you were the only person that mattered.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of waiting, she move your lacy panties to the side, teasing your clit with her feather like touches.

"I know, sweet girl." She coos as you whine at her teasing, she made sure you were nice and wet for her. She coats her fingers with your juices before finally inserting her fingers into your aching hole.

Her hand pat your head as you rest your forehead on her shoulder, biting your lips as you contain your moans and whimpers. “Shh, darling,” she whispered soothingly. “We wouldn’t want anyone to know, would we?” she gently pull your hair back as she asked you, all you could do was gave her a nod as another whimper escaped your lips.

"Leg up, sweet girl." she wrap your leg around her waist, giving her better access and her fingers going deeper, your head resting against the mirror as her fingers continued to thrust sporadically against your walls.

Eyes closed, lips bitten, strained moans and whimpers

This woman knows what she's doing and she does it so well.

"Everything alright in there ma'am?" Your body jolts in shock as the staff knocks on the door, Alcina immediately brings her hand around your mouth. Her fingers thrusting faster and curling simultaneously in that spot, she smiled as your eyes widen then rolled back.

"Everything's all good." She answered the woman calmly as you fell apart against her fingers, Alcina kiss your forehead as the woman kept talking.

"Alright ma'am, if you're settled with your dresses just come to the cashier and we'll assist you." The woman said, unaware of what's happening just a few steps from her. Sweats are forming on your forehead as you feel your whole body warming.

"We're definitely coming." Alcina removes her hand as the oblivious woman walk away. "Come for me darling." With that your whole body follow her sweet words, trembling against her fingers, high-pitched moans and whimpers left you while your cum drips down her fingers.

Legs shaking as she let you rode your orgasm before pulling out, stroking your hair as you catch your breath. Alcina whisper sweet words and encouragement to you, kissing you as she muttered how good you are for her. You rest your head on her shoulder, nuzzling your face on her neck as she stroke your back.

The world outside could wait. Here, in this moment, it was just the two of you, tangled in a web of desire and affection that felt both overwhelming and perfect. And as Alcina whispered your name against your skin, you knew that this was more than just a fling, more than just a casual romance.

This was something real. Something powerful. And you were all in.

[spoondrifts]

this'll be the summer i remember that i'm a person in the world i just know it

[keefechambers]

I wanna be blunt about this ongoing James somerton suicide threat issue but I don't want to connect it to my IRL Twitter to comment on the dogshit takes I'm seeing there or the good and well meaning but maybe too kind takes I'm seeing here.

Obviously, I hope that this is a false alarm cry for help fake threat. Yes, it would reinforce that Somerton is a self-centered egomaniac who can't handle consequences but that's preferable to dead.

But I work in local news and let me tell you something. I've covered half a dozen family annihilating murder suicides and heard hundreds of men making suicide threats over police scanners and a huge swath of these don't happen because they're depressed or because people are mean to them on the Internet. They're punishment. A person with an enormous amount of entitlement towards people around them gets backed into a corner and they punish the people closest to them by killing themselves or threatening to kill themselves.

No one wants to talk about this feature of suicide because...you want to help people who are struggling and guide them away from this path and being blunt about the fact that sometimes people die of suicide as a consequence of their own shittiness towards the world does not really help actively suicidal people. But suicide rates are higher in men not just because they have higher rates of untreated mental illness (a societal issue we must address for the sake of all) but because some people, often men, use suicide (but more often the threat of suicide) as a tool of abuse and control.

I'm not saying somerton is like, an icky abuser bad guy, he's just a run of the mill grifter scumbag, but his actions in the past show a clear pattern of escalating behavior that aligns with this.

Somerton gets called out -> somerton alleges physical threats of violence against himself and his fans rally around him supportively -> Harry calls somerton out in a bigger way -> Somerton says he's hospitalized but there are inconsistencies with the story but no one wants to talk about that because you wanna be nice-ish about a guy who just tried to kill himself and now he's trying to be framed as tragic but it doesn't really stick -> somerton apologizes again but his apology is rightly called out for lies and manipulative framing as well as his continuing attempts to profit off the community he betrayed -> James posts a suicide note publicly putting the onus of his own suicide on the loss of his friend Nick who he repeatedly threw under the bus and now everyone is rallying to say nice-ish shit and wring their hands in concern over poor james -> indefinitely repeat this vicious cycle forever until he actually does die or finally gives up and gets real, intensive therapy and a day job.

Thats not to say anyone's concern is misplaced, it's 100% better for him to be a living scumbag than a dead one. He deserves the chance to grow and learn and have a life outside of youtube.

But you don't have to portray this as the action of a sad depressed man who got bullied off the Internet. It's manipulation, whether he intended to go through with it or not and whether someone intervened or not. Not denying that internet bullying is a thing, I'm sure there were some people who were shitty directly to James but he made the choice to not unplug from this and to try and keep being a public figure rather than taking care of himself. He could have deleted Twitter, blocked anyone who was an asshole, gone to therapy and tried to move on with his life but if he'd deleted his channel he'd have lost monetization... Can't have that, right? So he posts some apology videos so his channel stays active and then complains about how ruinous this is while never trying to take real accountability.

But the reality is that people would have forgotten about him so quickly and maybe his job prospects would've been impacted but...that's on him, and that's for him to figure out but it's not actually life ruining. He chose to continue to engage knowing he'd get backlash and hate and he'd feel worse and worse and things would never get better without the time and space for people to forget.

He made the choice to make a public spectacle of his own alleged suicide. That is the action of someone who wants to put the weight of their suicide on someone else's shoulders and is morally wrong. He can be held to account for that, alive or dead.

[anthonycrowley]

the neil gaiman sa allegations are wild because i’m sitting here like wow neil gaiman had an incredibly intense impact on me in a variety of ways for at least the better part of a decade like at the very least most of my friends i made directly or indirectly with my connection with gomens and i think it’s fair to say that if anyone has made gomens a personality trait it’s me. and i saw that five separate women (so far) came forward saying at the very least he’s a fucking creep who preys upon women who he holds power over so i went wow that’s disgusting i don’t think i will be supporting this man financially any longer. at the very least. like i will make a conscious effort to not support. this fucking. predator. and then i go onto the wider internet and people i hold in high regard are like neilman sa allegations? what’s that? news outlets i hold in high regard are like neilman sa allegations? what are those? and i feel like i am actually for real going insane. why are you gaslighting me pretending the author of my favorite book doesn’t have active sa allegations against him. why are you making me, a fan, be the one to get this news out to the best of my ability (which i feel like i have to do, because i’m a fucking gomens blog) even though i’d rather stick a fork in my hand than discuss this topic more than i absolutely have to. okay i know why it’s because neil is tied up financially in a lot of projects and you as people i respect don’t want to get on his bad side so you can continue to make bank. but also. oh my god. someone in the science fiction/fantasy world grow a fucking spine and take a financial hit for your morality and if you believe in that sort of thing eternal soul just once challenge.

[d-targaryenshoe]

Books And Looks - Luke Thompson

Word Count: 1006

Summary: Some say even well-known actors can have a crush on authors, can they not?

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the city as the cast of Bridgerton wrapped up another long day of filming for season four.

Jonathan, Claudia, and Luke Thompson found themselves at their favorite pub, unwinding with drinks in hand.

“To another successful day!” Jonathan cheered, raising his glass.

“To another successful day!” echoed Claudia and Luke, clinking their glasses together.

They settled into a comfortable silence, the camaraderie of their shared experiences providing a soothing backdrop to the evening.

After a few sips, Jonathan leaned back in his chair and sighed.

“It’s going to be strange going back to normal life after this,” he mused. “I’ve gotten so used to the hustle and bustle of the set.”

Claudia nodded. “I know what you mean. There’s something about the energy here that’s hard to replicate in the real world. But I am looking forward to seeing my sister again.”

“You have a sister?” Luke asked, intrigued.

They’d spent so much time together on set, yet there were still many things they didn’t know about each other’s personal lives.

Claudia smiled warmly. “Yes, she’s a few years older than me. We’re very close, even though she’s quite the introvert.”

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. “An introvert? Doesn’t sound like anyone in your family.”

Claudia laughed. “You’d be surprised. She’s a famous author, but she avoids the spotlight as much as possible. Her books have a huge following.”

Luke’s ears perked up at this revelation. “A famous author? What’s her name?”

Claudia hesitated for a moment, then said, “Y/n Jessie Peyton.”

Luke’s eyes widened, nearly spilling his drink in his excitement. “No. Are you serious? She’s one of my favorite authors in the world! I’ve read all her books at least twice.”

Jonathan chuckled at Luke’s sudden burst of enthusiasm. “Looks like you’ve got a superfan on your hands, Claudia.”

Claudia shook her head, laughing. “Luke, she’s very private. She doesn’t like the spotlight, and she doesn’t do meet-and-greets.”

Luke’s expression turned pleading. “Please, Claudia, you have to introduce me. I promise I won’t make a scene. I just want to tell her how much her work means to me.”

Claudia sighed, seeing the sincerity in Luke’s eyes. “I can’t make any promises, Luke, but I’ll talk to her. We’ll see what happens.”

Over the next few weeks, Luke didn’t let up.

He would bring your name up in conversation whenever he could, his admiration for your work shining through.

Claudia found it endearing but was also protective of your privacy.

One evening, after another long day of filming, Claudia received a call from you.

You chatted about your lives, and inevitably, Luke’s name came up.

“Luke Thompson?” you repeated, surprised. “The actor?”

“Yes, the very same,” Claudia replied. “He’s a huge fan of your work, y/n. He’s been pestering me non-stop to introduce you two.”

You laughed softly. “Well, that’s flattering. I didn’t realize my books had such an impact on people. Maybe… maybe we could arrange something. A small, casual meeting. No big deal.”

Claudia smiled. “I think that would make his year, y/n. Let me know when you’re free, and I’ll set it up.”

A few days later, Claudia walked onto the set in full 'Eloise' with a secretive smile.

She had arranged for you to visit, and she couldn’t wait to see Luke’s reaction.

As they broke for lunch, Claudia spotted Luke and Jonathan chatting by the catering table.

“Hey, guys,” she said, trying to keep her excitement in check. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. “A surprise? What kind of surprise?”

Before Claudia could answer, you walked onto the set, looking slightly out of place but wearing a warm smile. Luke’s jaw dropped as he recognized her.

“No way,” he whispered, his eyes wide. “Is that…?”

Claudia grinned. “Luke, Jonathan, this is my sister.”

You stepped forward, extending your hand. “Hi, Luke. Claudia’s told me a lot about you.”

Luke shook your hand, trying to keep his composure. “It’s such an honor to meet you. Your books have had such a profound impact on me. Thank you for your incredible work.”

You blushed slightly, clearly not used to such direct praise. “Thank you. It means a lot to hear that.”

Jonathan, sensing the significance of the moment, clapped Luke on the back. “See, dreams do come true, mate.”

You all laughed, the initial tension easing into a more comfortable atmosphere.

You spent the rest of their lunch break chatting about your books, the writing process, and life on set.

Luke found himself captivated not just by your words but by your presence.

There was a quiet strength to you that drew him in, and he could tell you felt a connection too.

As the days passed, your visits to the set became more frequent. You and Luke would steal moments to talk, sharing stories and laughter.

It was clear to everyone around you that there was something special brewing between you two.

One evening, after a particularly long day of filming, Luke and you found yourselves alone on set.

The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over everything.

You sat on a bench, enjoying the peaceful silence.

“You know,” Luke began, “I never imagined I’d get to meet you, let alone spend so much time with you. It feels like a dream.”

You smiled, your eyes reflecting the fading light. “Life has a funny way of surprising us, doesn’t it? I never thought I’d enjoy being on a set, but here I am.”

Luke took a deep breath, gathering his courage. “Listen, I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but I’d love to get to know you better, outside of all this.”

You looked at him, your expression softening. “I feel the same way. I’d like that very much.”

You shared a smile, the unspoken promise of something more hanging in the air.

As the first stars appeared in the night sky, Luke reached for your hand, and you didn’t pull away.

[81folklore]

heaven - OP81 - part 5

pairings: oscar piastri x private!reader (fc: gracie abrams)

summary: australian adventures of yn and oscar

type: social media au (smau)

authors note: IM BACK WRITING MY FAVORITE ANGELS!!! ive been feeling slightly more motivated so i thought id just continue a story instead of creating a new one (at least whilst im in this slump) i do hope you enjoy!!

heaven masterlist masterlist

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant and 7,191 others

oh australia how ive missed you and your gifts 💫

view comments

user3 whats the best gift australia has given you??

yourusername oscar!!! liked by oscarpiastri

user3 SHUT THE FUCK UP WHATTTT?!?!??

user62 i feel SICK THEYRE SO??

oscarpiastri oh my goddd

oscarpiastri 😍😍

user4 you cannot separate oscar from that emoji

yourusername not even i can😕😕

oscarpiastri you can pry it from my cold dead hands

user81 that dog is so stinking cute

user22 yess but that dress is GORGEOUS

user5 right shes sooooooo pretty liked by oscarpiastri

user88 australia is the one whos lucky!! liked by oscarpiastri

user67 like they are being blessed with the yn ln

yourfriend3 you are oh so lovely liked by oscarpiastri

yourfriend3 i take it back stop your boyf from liking my comments abt you

yourusername he loves me🥰🥰

oscarpiastri i do!! its true!!

oscarpiastri 📍location home

liked by yourusername, lilymhe and 52,281 others

my favorite lady in my favorite place

view comments

user18 SHE IS HIS FAVORITE LADY OH MU GOD😭😭

user17 AND HIS FAVORITE PLACE IS HOME😭

user24 oh my god she is gorgeous liked by oscarpiastri

user84 i will never ever get tired of them

user28 i hope theyre in love forever and ever liked by oscarpiastri

user55 oscar liking this comment☹️☹️

yourusername my babyyyy

yourusername oh how ill always love you liked by oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri 🩷🩷

twitter

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 8,729 others

the day you entered my world you changed my entire view on life and myself, you help me find love and happiness in things i never expected and showed me how to appreciate the smallest things in life.

sometimes i wonder if im being selfish, how can i be worthy of all the love and time youve given to me? surely there is someone more deserving, someone who needs everything youve showed me more? i think about what i must have done in a past life to be gifted with you and then i wonder if we are destined.

maybe i dont deserve you in this life, maybe i dont deserve you in a thousand other lifes. but i believe we are meant to be which means for every universe we dont find eachother, we find eachother in a hundred more

im so glad we found each other, i dont know if i deserve you but i promise i will cherish and appreciate you the way i have done for 6 years and the way i will continue to love you for as long as this universe allows and then i will love you even longer in another

six years used to feel like forever but now ill never have enough time, happy anniversary lovely

view comments

oscarpiastri you continue to help my heart keep beating

oscarpiastri i didnt think love was real until i found you

oscarpiastri we will find eachother in every universe i promise

oscarpiastri you are the prettiest and most lovely person i have ever met and you deserve everything and more

yourusername my good looking boyyyy🩵🩵

user29 i have no words i cant comprehend what im reading

user10 i feel so violently ill they are so sweet

user62 my parents everyone!!!

user53 is that an engagement ring?!

user33 wait pause

user5 theres no way right??

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, arthur_leclerc and 62,379 others

you’ve impacted my life in more ways than you will ever know and im so thankful that i get to love you for all eternity, you have such a beautiful soul and i can’t believe i get to hold it

happy six years and to a lifetime more

view comments

yourusername you are so so incredible

yourusername i dont know how many other ways i can say it but i love you

oscarpiastri i love you too

user66 they are sooooo

user7 oh my gooooood i am a puddle of tears

user56 you just dont get them like i do

user32 anyone else sad we didnt get a long caption like yns was beautiful

yourusername oscar said more than enough in his letter☺️

user43 OH MY GOD HE WROTE HER A LETTER😭😭😭😭

user3 six years.. six damn years and they are still so in love

user48 guys are they engaged or not😭

yourusername not!! we are still young and exploring ourselves and the world and we are still grow into better people. we didnt want to rush when we still have so many things to do but we will when we know we are ready🩷 liked by oscarpiastri

user65 i didnt know it was possible to love two random strangers so much☹️☹️

yourusername added to their story

seen by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 9,372 others

text on story reads: 🩷🩷🩷

oscarpiastri added to their story

seen by yourusername, aussiegrit and 105,482 others

text on story reads: sunshine ☀️☀️

twitter

[tomicscomics]

08/16/2024

Our deacon shared this anecdote last week at Mass. It's a little different each time I hear it, but the moral is always the same.

___

JOKE-OGRAPHY:

1. This cartoon is based on a widespread but often mutated anecdote. There are lots of versions, so I'm not sure what the original story is (share it in the comments if you know), but the two versions I heard recently go thuswise:

(1) An atheist goes up to a Christian and says, "If I believed what you say you believe about Judgment Day and the fate of those who reject Christ, I would crawl across the world on broken glass, begging every single person to repent."

(2) A Catholic and a Protestant walk together, but as they pass a Catholic church, the Catholic bows and makes the Sign of the Cross, as a sign of respect for the Eucharist inside. His Protestant friend says, "If I believed what you say you believe about the Real Presence of Jesus in the Eucharist, I would crawl to that altar on my hands and knees."

(Breakdown) In every version of the story I've heard, there are two characters: a faithful person and an accuser of some kind. The faithful is usually doing some small gesture of their faith, which the accuser sees as insufficient for the level of belief the faithful claims to have. I want to clarify that no one expects for evangelists to walk on broken glass forever to preach to everyone in the entire world, or for Catholics to crawl up and worship at every tabernacle they pass on a drive. We're human, so we need to find ways to manifest worship or evangelism while also going about our normal healthy lives with each other. Sometimes those ways are imperfect and small, and that's okay, as long as we're really trying. The accuser's point is hyperbolic, but nonetheless poignant.

(Moral) No matter which version of the story you hear, I think the question it poses remains the same: "Is our faith more than just talk?" It's easy to say we believe in God, but what does that belief do? It's a monumental claim, isn't it? Maybe the MOST monumental claim you could make. It seems like it should have a monumental impact on EVERYTHING we do, but instead, life just kind of moves along. How can we dare to claim that we actually believe? What does believing even mean, if it doesn't manifest itself in more than our words? Big questions from such a small story.

2. Our deacon recited the Eucharist-version of this story last week at Mass, and it made me want to illustrate it. I'm sorry this cartoon isn't gut-bustingly hilarious. Here, let me make it up to you with a fun joke. Knock knock.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

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

Series Masterlist

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

Chapter Title from Bells in Santa Fe by Halsey.

Word Count: 11.2k

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

Read on A03!

Chapter 5 - Chapter 7

Taglist: @lordofthunderthr @kritara

Want to be tagged? Just ask!

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the fuck, Ben!”

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

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

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

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

“Blow me.”

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

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

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

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

“Oops.”

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

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

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

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

“Whatever keeps you up at night.”

“That’s not the phrase.”

He winked. “I know.”

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

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

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

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

“Fourteen minutes, cunt!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Prove it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll kill you, bitch.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You forgot?”

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

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

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

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

“Your plan?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What was your mom like?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s there to fucking argue about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

———-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod absentmindedly. “Butcher.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Someone fucking answer me first.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No, it won’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry about hitting-“

“I know how to hot-wire a car.”

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

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

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

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

“What? Are you insane?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bitch.” He hisses back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ashley, please listen to A-Train-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

City lights.

Music.

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

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

City lights. Music.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I- I can’t.”

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

“Please, I don’t-“

“Do not make me stab you.”

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

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

“I, I won’t. I can’t. He’ll kill me-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ashley nods frantically, flinching when you raise your hand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She frowns. Yes I can.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you?” You ask quietly.

“Of course I fucking am.”

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

“You’re being fucking weird, Sunshine.”

“Please.”

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

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

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

“Your PTSD.”

“I don’t fucking have-“

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

“Then what fucking makes you think-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[dippedinmelancholy]

TW: Discussions of SA, consequences, and shit men interacting with women who have been sexually abused. I've been toying with this for a while, trying to find the answer for it on my own but I just can't seem to. Why does SJM treat SA so horrendously? All of her series have this underlying theme feminism, finding your strength, fighting back, ect. Which, on the surface, is amazing. Except multiple women have histories of either straight up SA'd or have endured something that is very much an allegory of SA. Lydia - CC3 Lydia is repeatedly SA'd by her partner, something she doesn't fight back against as it's part of her double agent business. This is an on screen example of very near martial rape. He's violent with her, only put off by her monthly cycle. Ruhn gets hints of it, but there's no denying his knowledge of her pain and her many years of abuse. The first time he and Lydia connect as a couple sexually, despite having this knowledge, he shows her no softness. Lydia herself has no issue with this. There's no sensual connection, no refutal that they don't need sex to care for one another, they don't need sex to seal their relationship. No character development for Ruhn who up to this point has been a borderline sex crazed frat boy. The sex is intense, and though it lacks hard violence, the undertones of ferocity are there. Nesta - ACOSF

Nesta is a victim of SA, something only Cassian has picked up clues on. First, she is assaulted by her fiance of the time. Then, she is violently assaulted by the Cauldron, because she fights back. If she had been a "good girl" and just taken the Cauldron's attention rather than fight back and try to escape, her abuse would not have been so bad, something that very easily and so very clearly translates to real world victims. Then, she is assaulted by the Kelpie. He wishes to make her his "bride", dragging her to a watery death where dozens of women before have died as well. It isn't spelled out for us, but any person with two brain cells can put it together. What do monstrous men do with their brides? What is the role and purpose of a bride? He too assaults her, and plans to rape her. Then, she encouters Lanthys who plans to make her his Queen to rule the world, and forces images into her mind, showing her exactly how he will take and taste her body. Four moments of sexual assault. Three from other worldly, mind breaking evil entities. The Cauldron is just as vile as the other two, corrupted by the Asteri and taking pleasure in hurting Nesta. Again, again, again, Cassian is confronted with instances of Nesta being violated. Again, again, again, he knows the way she has been sexually assaulted, sees how she tries to cope and fails horribly. And yet, how does every sexual encounter go? He is intense. He is borderline violent sexually, though he'd never raise a hand to her. He has no care to give her softness. He practically punishes her for calling it "just sex" despite her being a 20 something scared woman who's never had an impactful relationship where her body wasn't something to be traded and yielded like a fortune of gold, and him being a 500 yr old man who is supposedly supposed to understand women and be more emotionally mature/understanding than Rhysand or Azriel. The men, Fenris/Rhysand - ToG

Fenris and Rhysand too suffer from SA, both from the hands of powerful, cruel mistresses they are "serving" to protect someone they love. These two men are granted space to hurt, to cry, to not know what they want. The fandom in turn is soft with them. The text is sexually soft with Rhysand, though there's no sexual focus with Fenris (which is completely fine, his friendship with Aelin is powerful enough to me). Feyre is soft and understanding with Rhysand, as she should be, yet I can't help but notice this very obvious and stark difference. The Difference

Why are the women treated and written this way? Why are they given no softness, no space to not know what they want? Why are they not given partners who have the bare minimum sense to not rail them like a pornstar? As a victim of SA myself, I'm very much in favor of women reclaiming their sexuality and finding power in it. But there's no journey for these women, no healing. They simply are 'fine' in every sexual moment for their partners, because why would a woman be anything but a wet, willing hole for their partners? Moments after Cassian breaks Nesta wholly, when she was seconds away from jumping from the side of a cliff, he fucks her. She breaks down, sobbing and utterly alone, abused emotionally and physically by HIS HAND, and he fucks her. He tells her it will be fine because he suffered hundreds of years ago, and look, he's great! After all, half of the fandom collectively agrees Nesta should be grateful for being boiled alive, retorn and violated on every possible level. All because she happens to be cruel at times, she isn't a perfect victim, and why should she have any pain when Cassian is right there? All that matters is his wet cock.

There is a constant underlying theme here, across all of the series, all focused on the women, and an obvious opinion and writing habit. If you brush this off as 'it's just a book', I would like to remind you that most of the ACOTAR fanbase are women, young women who are often in their first or second relationship and just now understanding what they should accept in their relationships. It makes me very concerned for Gwyn, who has the most violent and tragic SA history. It makes me concerned for all women who don't see the underlying issues here. At it's core though, it just makes me sad.

[lakesbian]

i have had like 10 friends rec worm to me but nobody’s given me a good like, gist of its vibe and what its abt because ‘its best blind’, could u please give a like brief summary and vibe check of it 😭 it’s so long i dont wanna try and invest that much time without knowing much abt it

so, worm is a 1.7 million word long webserial written in 2010. 1.7 million words seems like a lot, but it was also written over a relatively short period of time, which means the writing style is very easy to parse--the ideas aren't without complexity, but the language itself isn't intimidatingly dense. you can get through it at a very decent pace. i agree with your friends that there are vast portions of worm that hit best when you're unspoiled, but the thing is that worm is long enough that giving you the basic plot pitch is in no way spoilers for any of the things that i wouldn't want to see spoiled for someone. i'm actually kind of baffled they're not telling you Any Thing, because it is in my estimation one of the best books i've ever read, but it also Needs a briefing before you get into it for like five different reasons. which i will now provide. i swear to god this is brief by my standards it's just that i am very thorough

worm is a story about superheroes and supervillains, set in a world where superpowers are traumagenic--rather than appearing randomly or innately, some people gain powers after a traumatizing event happens to them. the protagonist is taylor hebert, a 15yo girl who has the power to control insects and desperately wants to be a superhero. and then accidentally finds herself scouted by a team of teenage villains instead. who's to say how she's going to react to all that!

one of the most compelling things about worm is that the superpowers in it serve as visceral, hyper-literal metaphors for the trauma and traumatized coping mechanisms of the characters with those powers. each power is incredibly specific and thematically relevant to the person who has it, and it's incredibly interesting and evocative. it feels so natural and well-done that it comes off like how superpowers are just meant to be written.

the fact that superpowers stem from trauma also means that worm is fundamentally a narrative about trauma. specifically, about traumatized teenagers and the relationships they form as they cling together while struggling through growing up traumatized & mutually coping with an increasingly intriguing, intense, and far-reaching escalating plot. worm's depictions of trauma + mental illness--including unpalatable trauma responses, including traumatized characters who are allowed to be complicated and nuanced and messy while still receiving narrative respect--are deeply real-feeling and impactful, and they're placed in the context of a well-spun + engaging story.

i really do have to stress how excellent the character writing is. worm is fully deserving of being as long as it is. over the course of 1.7 million words of character development, the average reader's reaction to the main characters goes from "sorta interesting" to "okay, i want to see where this goes" to "augh...really likable" to "i am now on hands and knees crying and these characters are going to stick around in my brain forever." wildbow has incredible talent for efficiently conveying complicated, real-feeling, and viscerally evocative characterization. many of the interlude chapters (chapters written from the perspective of different characters other than taylor) are so interesting, fleshed-out, and emotionally affecting that they make you wish you could read an entire novel about just the side character being featured. with that level of characterization for just the side cast, it's not surprising that taylor (& co) are genuinely just downright iconic. and i do not say that lightly--taylor is truly one of the best-written protagonists i've seen in anything. ever.

the other main pitch-point for worm is that it's a fascinating deconstruction/reconstruction/examination of the conceits of the superhero genre. it answers the question of--what would the world have to be like, for people with superpowers to act the way they do in classic cape media? and it does this well enough that it's interesting even if you have only a passing familiarity with cape media. i am not a big superhero media fan, but worm addresses virtually every aspect of cape media that was under the sun around 2010 in a way that's so interesting i still find it incredibly engaging. the approach it takes makes the narrative very accessible even to people who aren't usually cape media fans.

and speaking of the narrative: the end of the story is coherent and satisfying and deeply thematically resonant*. the way worm follows through on all of its main mysteries & plot threads is excellent. you don't have to worry about getting thru 1.7 million words and being dissatisfied by the author shitting the bed at the end, or anything like that. he does an amazing job of weaving together plot events in a way that makes each successive one feel rationally, thematically, and emotionally connected to what came before. there's really only one part where i feel the story stumbles a bit, but i think it was the best option he had for the narrative, and it's by no means a dealbreaker. it's in fact really impressive how cohesive and satisfying worm is for such a long webserial released over such a brief period of time.

*this is subjective ive seen some people who didnt love it but ive never seen anyone who downright Hated it who didnt also demonstrate egregious misunderstanding of literally everything worm is about. so thats a good sign

as for the downsides of worm/things that might put you off:

there is a very long list of trigger warnings for it. if you have any trigger warnings you want you should ask your friends to let you know about the relevant parts, because the fact that it's About Trauma (& about typical cape media circumstances presented very seriously) means that traumatic and violent things & their realistic aftermath are constantly happening and/or being discussed. i would not classify worm as needlessly dark or spiteful to the audience by any means, but it is intense and covers a lot of heavy topics. i do assume if your friends are all recommending it to you, they think none of the material would be too much for you, though!

worm was written in 2010 by a white cishet guy from canada. it's typical levels of 2010-era bigoted, it has a deeply lesbophobic stereotype character, it has some atrociously racist stereotype characters, the author really hates addicts, It's Got Blind Spots. i think worm is generally fully worth reading despite these, but very fair warning that it can get bad. i think what exacerbates this is that worm is generally extremely nuanced & sympathetic regarding ideas such as "crime is a result of systematic circumstance vs people just being inherently evil" and "mentally ill people who are traumatized in unpalatable ways are still deserving of fundamental respect as human beings" and so on and so forth, so it's extra noticeable and insufferable when you get to a topic the author has unexamined biases on and all that nuance drops out. the worst part is that a lot of this is most concentrated in the early arcs, so you have to get through them without being super attached to any of the characters yet. it is worth it though.

worm like. Does have a central straight relationship in it. and it's a very well written straight relationship for the most part and i like it quite a lot. but worm also passes the bechdel test with such flying colors that it enters 'unintentionally homoerotic' territory. which means a lot of people were shipping the main character ms taylor hebert with her female friends while the story was being released. which caused the author to get so mad he 1. posted a word of god to a forum loudly insisting that all of the girls are straight and 2. inserted a few deeply awkward and obvious and out of character scenes where he finds an excuse for the girls to more or less turn to the camera and go "i'm not gay, btw. this is platonic." This is fucking insufferable, and will piss you off immensely, but then you will get to any of the number of deeply emotionally affecting scenes between them, and at that point you will be too busy sniffling piteously and perhaps crytyping an analysis post on tumblr to be mad about all that other shit. also they're only a couple tiny portions out of an entire overall fantastic novel

overall: if those points don't sound like dealbreakers (i hope they aren't they're really massively outstripped by the amount of devastatingly good moments in worm, worm still has a thriving fandom over a decade later for a reason), you should absolutely give it a shot and see what you think. my final note is that you have to read up until the end of arc 8 to really see where what makes worm Worm kicks in, so aim for at least there to see how you feel about it if you're just thinking about dipping your toes in vs fully committing. i hope that was helpful and not too long :)

oh and don't go in the comments section on wordpress if you don't want spoilers. or anywhere else in the fandom at all. you will be spoiled. quite possibly for things you could not even have imagined were topics to be spoiled on.

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#56: The Real CRM (1.06)

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

Will the real CRM please stand up? 😁 The thing I most liked about these Rick and Beale exchanges is that while Beale was peeling back the curtain on what the CRM is really about, Rick got to let Beale know about the only CRM he and I recognize - and y’all, that’s Carl, Rick, Michonne. 💅🏽😌...

Beale sees major potential in Rick as he tells him he thinks the next decade's leader might be Rick Grimes. It’s like Okafor said, even though Rick has never wanted power, it’s undeniable that he has it and is a natural-born leader. But I think this natural-born leader is very eager to retire and just be a family man and the world should finally let him. 🙏🏽

Beale notes how Rick came back to them even after so many escape attempts and even despite having had the perfect out because they thought he was dead. They cut to several moments of Rick during his time in the CRM and then Beale says that Rick has become a powerful story that they can essentially parade around to others to convince them of why the CRM is the answer.

Even saying that is so detached and reductive - treating Rick as not a person but a persuasive story.

gif cred: @taiturner

Beale talks about how he and Okafor have sacrificed and he says Rick has already sacrificed too as he holds up his prosthetic, a reminder of Rick's willingness to sacrifice his own hand for his family.

Then Beale gets personal yet still seems so detached as he asks, “Who’s the person closest to you who’s died in all of this?” And Andy’s acting is so good as he pauses for a moment and then says, “My son.” I could shed several tears from those two words alone. 🥺

One; I love how often Carl was acknowledged in TOWL. He’s so impactful to Rick and Michonne so it’s only right. And the way Rick says 'my son' here, it's viscerally evident how personal this is to him. I love how there’s this vulnerability to the way he says it while also trying to keep a guard up.

Rick somberly says, “He’s who I saved tearing out that man’s throat.” Because truly there isn’t anything Rick wouldn’t do for Carl. 😭 And the pain on Rick's face when he says this hits hard. It's like you can visibly see him mentally returning to two extremely heavy moments from his past - the night he killed those Claimers to save Carl and the night he lost Carl in Alexandria.

And then, despite the fact that this is clearly an extremely hard loss and not easy to talk about, Beale seems like he doesn’t have a heart with his insensitive response.

Beale says, “But you couldn’t save him in the end.” And him disrespecting Rick and Carl had me wanting to swing on the Major General tbh. 🥊

After Beale's unfeeling remark, they show a quick clip of Rick and Michonne standing at Carl’s grave. 💔 Then Rick shakes his head and somberly answers, “No.” Which is just 🥺🥺🥺. 

A big element of the pain of this is that, before Carl passed, Rick viewed the weighted act of killing a man with his teeth as an act that kept Carl alive. But now, when he thinks about that moment he also has to think about how Carl still didn't make it, even despite what Rick was willing to do to protect him. 😞

I guess normally this would be an effective tactic from Beale. He gets the soldiers thinking about the person they most loved and lost and how they couldn’t save them, convincing them that committing to the CRM would be a way to prevent those losses and that pain from ever happening again.

But fortunately, after some heart-to-hearts in a crumbling apartment with Michonne, Rick is no longer susceptible to thinking the CRM can’t be beat so they must be joined.

Beale says, “What if I told you, you would never have to suffer that kind of loss again, that wherever you were running to, whoever you were running to…you could keep them safe, you could bring them to us?” For some reason, I doubt the sincerity of this offer.

And it seems Rick isn't buying it either. Plus, even if it was a legit offer, Rick would never just be content with keeping his people safe while the CRM exterminates mass amounts of other innocent people.

When Beale says, “Family, friends, a love…I don’t give a damn.” the not giving a damn part is clear. You can tell Beale has been so far removed from having people he loves for a long while.

Somewhat adjacent to a mindset that Rick nearly adopted before Michonne helped him return to himself, Beale thinks protecting people is a sufficient replacement for loving people.

Beale says he’ll spare the people Rick loves because he’s willing to take that chance on him. Rick continues to hang onto his knife under the table and Beale can’t tell that he has an increasingly feral Rick in front of him.

Like the way Rick looks at Beale...it was clear that the Major General was about to meet Red Machete Rick real soon. 👌🏽

gif cred: @riickgrimes

Beale goes on to tell Rick about how “The Next World will begin” and my extra self just liked hearing the title of Richonne’s s6 canon episode in TOWL lol. 😊

The time finally comes for Rick to swear on the sword and then we’re brought back to the moment in ep 1 when Beale wanted to ask a question and get the answer by looking in Rick eyes. And then here in the finale, Beale also gets an answer from Rick’s eyes because rather than swear on the sword and 'not let it take' like Okafor advised, Rick refuses to swear on the sword at all.

Rick's done playing along. So after they show a series of clips of Rick and Michonne taking down opponents in TWD, Beale quickly realizes that he’s got the wrong one as Rick’s expression shifts. He can tell Rick is very clearly in kill mode as Beale then grabs his weapon and says, “No.” But it’s too late.

gif cred: @coltseavrs

Rick chuck’s his knife at Beale and slides across the desk to tackle him down. 👏🏽

Beale and Rick get into some hand-to-hand combat, with Rick’s prosthetic again shielding him from getting cut up when Beale swings his sword. Beale wants to know why Rick came back if he hadn’t really conformed. Rick doesn’t believe the world is gonna end and Beale says the world won’t but he’s trying to make sure that the human race doesn’t end.

When Rick gets a hold of Beale’s sword he plunges it right through Beale’s hand and Beale’s first response is one of regret that he trusted Okafor enough to give Rick a chance. Cuz clearly that didn't work out too well for Mister Beale. 🙂

And then, after Beale’s long speeches and disrespect throughout this ep, it was finally Rick’s turn to speak. 😌

gif cred: @nobleriver

Rick lets Beale know, “I never lost my son. I lost myself. He brought me back.” 😭 I love how Rick now knows his son was always with him, even when he thought he lost him. And even after losing himself, his son was still able to bring him back.

Carl brought Rick back so many times as he lived and it’s heartwarming to know he continues to do that from the other side.

gif cred: @nobleriver

And then y’all already know I am beyond here for the fact that Rick then says, “My wife brought me back.” The way he puts that emphasis on “my wife.” 🔥 Oh he meant this. 💯

And you know it probably felt extra great for Rick to now be able to say 'my wife' knowing he's finally been able to give Michonne a ring like he wanted. 💍😌

gif cred: @machonnes

Hearing Rick call Michonne his wife will always be music to my ears. And I love that he can't help but say it with so much passion each time. 😊

And once again Rick has a perfect track record of giving Michonne her flowers. He knows the reason he’s here, and back to being himself, and fighting this fight, is because of his wife. Fighting for him, believing in him, and bringing him back are some of the many ways Michonne saved Rick's life.

I love the way this connects back to Michonne telling Carl that he and Rick brought her back in their heartfelt season 4 finale scene. Carl, Rick, and Michonne all brought each other back. 😭

(And little does Beale know that the wife Rick’s talking about is one Consignee Bethune. Looks like Beale was right to have her on his radar. 😋)

Rick says, “We’re the sword that kills. We’re the sword that gives life. One life. One unstoppable life.” I like that Rick gets to tell Beale this after the CRM thought they were the only answer.

gif cred: @likeafantasy

Again, he’s letting Beale know who the real C.R.M is and it was moving to see Rick doing this in the name of Carl and Michonne. His son and wife. He represented the Golden Trio well here. 🥹

(And I know some people wanted/expected TOWL to be super focused on CRM content. But the way I see it - it was.👌🏽 Because Carl, Rick, & Michonne sure got a whole lot of focus. 😌)

Rick's final scene with Beale made it ultra clear that Michonne and Carl give Rick so much strength. They did back then and they still do years later. His wife and kids are why he fights. 👌🏽

And I like that Rick reframed Beale’s mantra to see that it’s the people you love who really are the ones who give life. Hearing Rick say “one unstoppable life” also made me think about how he mentioned in the TWD series finale that Michonne showed him that they’re one unstoppable life.

And that’s why they don’t have to succumb to the doomsday fear of the world ending again because, as this apocalypse has shown, - their one unstoppable life doesn’t end even when the world does. 

gif cred: @likeafantasy

Then Rick concludes by saying, “We’re not dead…You are.” as he, in a bit of poetic irony, kills Beale with his own sword. It’s nice hearing Rick declare “We’re not dead” having lived the last few years feeling like a dead man. The real Rick is alive and well now. 🙌🏽

And the real Rick is also a little crazy, but that’s how it’s always been and we love him for it. 😌

Also, the snarl with that delivery.👏🏽❤️‍🔥 Rick can be at his most feral and every time I'm still just like...

Killing the CRM’s most powerful leader right here and now certainly qualifies as putting a major wrench in Richonne's plan, and so Rick has to quickly cover his tracks by telling Pearl that Beale went to the woods alone.

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

Then he sees a crate and gets an idea on how to remove the body which leads to another elevator scene. And while that lovely elevator scene in episode 4 was lighthearted and steamy, this next elevator scene is pure suspense. 😨👌🏽

[yan-lorkai]

Hii, Lorks ~

Had see that your writing for my favorie earl now, have any hcs for older sibling reader and young brother Ciel? Sorry about bad english, is not my first language

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Been busy with uni stuff but nothing couldn't stop me from writing this now that inspiration strikes me and since we're having a new season I began to reread the manga these past few days and wow, I still love this lil dude. Look at his smiled he knows he's adorable. The Green Witch arc remains my favorite <3

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warning: Yandere content, platonic yandere, protectiveness.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ You were a few years older than the twins, but you were very close to them as well as being a constant figure for them as they grew up. You were what they would describe as the best sibling in the world, even though you liked to make fun of them and make jokes that embarrassed them in front of people, like any good old sibling would do.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ When you had free time, you enjoyed teaching them chess and other logic games, loving the way the expressions on their faces were confusing whenever you used a different strategy. These were simple times when the whole family would get together to watch you play while everyone chatted. Times that were lost after the attack, all the joy, all the warmth, that mixed with the sad blue of the wallpaper until it turned the entire mansion into something cold.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Ciel came back, lost, deeply hurt, and you were the only person he told what happened. The whole kidnapping and the cult, and it broke your heart, your brilliant little brother was an unresponsive blank as he recounted the facts, as if he didn't want to realize the impact that that event had on him. As if he was still on autopilot and couldn't let his guard down. And things were worse now that he had lost his twin brother, who he was as attached to as you were.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ But you were there to support him every step of the way, holding his hand after a nightmare, wiping the rare tears from his eyes, listening to everything he had to say. Ciel's stubborn and prideful, he never asks for help but he has this serene smile on his face when you go out of your way to help him anyway. You knew he was strong for withstanding all the pressure, for enduring everything he went through and for having the strength necessary to overcome everything, and you reminded him of that in each of his "weak moments". It reminded him that he was loved and that you would always be by his side.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He's still twelve, he's still a child, and you're always telling him stories to sleep and taking him out to take his mind off his trauma. Sometimes you just sit next to him and listen to him express his thoughts.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Ciel can be a little overprotective sometimes, which is funny considering you should be the overprotective one due to the age difference. He always sends Sebastian with you on your errands, to protect you from some attack or someone. And you don't complain, his intentions are good and you can understand the anxiety he feels upon knowing that those responsible for the attack are free and alive.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Being a few years older, you know a lot about balls, about every important person and how to negotiate with them. And you teach each of these things to Ciel when he decides to claim the title of Queen's Watchdog, giving advice and sharing your opinion whenever he asks you, being by his side as his left hand.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ And being his left hand means that you and Sebastian interact on a daily basis, protecting Ciel, going on missions together, collecting information and the such.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ In private, when your masks can finally fall, you call him by his real name, hug him lightly and let him know that no matter what, you'll be there for him. Always.

⠀

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Ciel actually told you everything, everything except that he made a contract with a demon. He hopes you can forgive him when the contract is completed, when he and his soul disappear from this world, without any chance of seeing you one last time in the so-called paradise.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Even after your death, Ciel might remember the loving way you sat in the chair next to his bed when he was sick and took care of him. He will remember the silly promises you made, the bad jokes you told him to make him laugh until his stomach hurt, the little adventures to steal cookies on Christmas morning. Things too precious for him.

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗠𝗢𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗦 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛 𝗬𝗢𝗨 charles leclerc x girlfriend! sim racer! reader (fluff) “. . . what is it like when when a Ferrari driver and a sim racer who are ┊both equally chaotic are engaged?”

( general master list | more of charles leclerc ) ( requests | taglist )

Turning on the camera, Charles looked at the lens with his lips pursed. "Just so you know, I'm being forced to do this." He sighed starting to share his screen. "I lost a bet and I'm being held at gunpoint."

"This is not gunpoint, don't be ridiculous." You scolded spraying him with the water pistol. "AMOUR!!. YOU SAID YOU WOULDN'T!" Charles scrunched his face making you laugh. You were laughing loudly, holding his face gently from his chin as you wiped his face dry with a napkin.

A person would expect him to be playing F1 like he always did, but no. Infront of him was the loading screen to a famous role-playing game known as Genshin impact.

This was indeed Charles' first time playing because he had only heard of the game two minutes ago while you logged on your cousins account for your fiance. "We're- I think-" each time he tried to talk your run the napkin over his mouth making him start the sentence over again, your body was shaking as you held in your giggle.

"I think- Amour!" You fell on your side laughing your ass off. He took the water pistol spraying you a couple of time. "Do you surrender?" "I do! I do!" He sprayed you two more times for good measure.

"I'm going to be playing Jenshin-" "Genshin." You corrected. "Genshin Impact. I've never played it before so, let's see where this goes. My fiance will be joining me. Chéri, chat says hi." "Salut!" You greeted sitting up, pulling Charles' chair back and taking a seat on his lap.

The man quickly pulled you close to his chest, scooting back closer to his monitor. "Whar are you going to play on?" "On my phone, so I can have the best seat in town."

Charles wiggled his eyebrows to the camera smugly before kissing your cheek. "Let me give you the ghist. You lost your twin Sibling and your mission to find her, so you go through the countries in this world in hopes of finding the God of each in hopes for them to help you." You quickly explain, unlocking the phone and pressing a key on Charles keyboard.

"Where the fuck are you-" you looked at his screen confused once you joined his game. "You're the expert here, am I drowning?!"

"Oh yeah." You hummed nodding as you watched Bennett drown. "That's a shame, I really liked him. Anyways."

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Sigh." Charles walked into the camera frame with his banana suit on. "Your taking too long!" He called for you, folding his arms waiting. "This is embarrassing." you mumbled. "This is revenge." He replied pulling you into the frame with him. You were wearing a strawberry suit, similar to his banana one.

"Do the dance." He nudged you looking at the camera with a blank expression. You sighed putting your hands on your hips as you started doing some silly dance. "I'm a strawberry, red and sweet. I'm always here if you want a treat. But if it's hot you can put me in a blender, add a banana and it's gonna be splendid." You sang jumping on beat to face different directions.

Charles was holding in his laugh as he watched you on the monitor. "My girlfriend ladies and gentlemen." "Your fiancé." You corrected him, nudging your hip with his. "My fiancé!" He chuckled pausing between words to nudge you back.

That's how Charles' streams consisted of after meeting you. You two quickly became friends until he asked you on a date. And soon after asked to be your boyfriend. It wasn't much longer till he proposed which you accepted, a decision that made two racers stream stupid content on twitch together.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"CHARLIEEEEE!! GET OUT OF THE WAY." you shouted even though you were sitting on the Sim right behind him. Deciding to stream for the weekend, you invited some in real life racers, including your fiance.

"LANDO, THINK FAST." You were driving in the opposite direction, trying to take out drivers with the speed of 250km/h. "Holy shit." You could hear the McLaren driver laugh as he dodged you. "YOUR NEXT MAX, WATCH OUT ALBON." The two boys quickly did a U-Turn, running away from you.

"HAVE MERCY." Alex shouted trying to escape you, wheezing so much he could barely see. You couldn't hold your laugh or smile in as you hunted down the driver.

Charles on the other side, or as you liked to call him, Charlie ( you kept saying the wrong name on purpose to piss him off and it stuck ) was watching you with a wide smile on his face. His heart fluttered with each laugh he heard and goosebumps spread over his skin as he heard your giggles.

He was marrying the right person, he knew that. The way you made him feel, it was just right.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Charlieeee. I'm home." You knocked on the door waiting for him. You'd forgotten your keys in your drawer and had texted the boy inside to unlock the door. Which he did not. "Man, let me in." You sighed locking harder. You frowned for a good two impatient seconds before hopping on discord, entering the voice chat.

"Charlie!! Open the door, mother fuc-" "AAAAHHHHHHHH." "WHO WAS THAT?!" "MOMM!!" You heard a thud come from inside the apartment, hearing Charles fall off his chair. You were once more laughing your ass of, falling on the floor as you held your stomach. Your laugh echoed through the apartment and Charles couldn't help but chuckle from on the floor.

"You scared me, amour." He accused as he opened the door laughing. "I texted you." You defended, laughs falling from your lips on end as your significant other pulled you into a warm hug. "Welcome home."

[morguecuts]

Running From Vain

five hargreeves x fem!reader synopsis: you confuse anger for love. word count: 1.8k tags: angst, heavy fluff, kissing, touching, etc. technically adopted siblings? lots of character lore lol note: story was written with s4 visuals in mind. this is my first time writing tua fanfic so i hope u enjoy. i apologize in advance for being an extremely detailed writer :)

♱⛧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨ ୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆⛧♱

the 8th hargreeves child was the one that reginald kept hidden and locked away for decades. her blood regeneration was able to flow through not only herself but others as well, being able to save them from death and retrieve their leaking souls when needed. she lacked the ability to control them from a young age, and her powers were deemed too impactful to society fairly quickly. when a mission goes rather poorly, she is revealed to the world by mistake. since then she’s been known as the outcast to everyone, including her own siblings. the world is coming to an end once again, issues are constantly arising with all connections pointing to the umbrella academy. the family already lost beloved parts of itself in the past, and they bare to lose any more. tension has been brewing for years and one wrong comment leads to a certain couple releasing deep emotions, both good and bad.

♱⛧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨ ୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆⛧♱

his hands travel from the sides of his face upwards towards the messy black hair that lays upon his head. their strands are falling to perfectly frame the chiseled boy below them. an unpleasant expression is sprawled across five’s face, his tired eyes clenched closed as his eyebrows pinch together. 

“no, you don't understand! we can’t keep wasting time, everything will be gone tomorrow.” he opens his mouth for the time in what feels like hours. his chest begins to rise and fall quickly. his feet start to carry him back and forth, passing you every few moments while his eyes are locked onto you. the hallway where you both reside is tense, heavy, and secluded from the rest of the house. for being in such a mammoth size mansion, with 7 other siblings, a robot mother, and an intelligent monkey, the world seems to be silent. the only noise that can be heard is the faint sound of five breathing, releasing a few deep sighs as he does. 

“i understand perfectly well, but your plan is useless. you are so insufferable to work with, i mean come on five, be realistic for once! if we listen to viktor then we might actually be able to stop the apocalypse.” you make an attempt at replying, but it seems like he’s starting to ignore you. 

the air is intoxicating, you hate him, you hate what he did to the umbrella name, and especially to you. it’s time for someone to stand up and confront his decision making. everything he does is egotistical and arrogant. his words are sharp and impactful in the most negative ways imaginable. the sound of his shuffling feet stop, his dark beaded eyes trace every aspect of your face before opening his mouth in response to you. 

“you know you’re a real piece of work right? calling me insufferable is completely distasteful when all you do is follow diego around like a lost puppy. it’s fucking embarrassing for everyone in this family, and you know it.” he stops to let out a small chuckle before pointing his finger towards your chest. “don't even make me mention the grave mistake you made on our last mission either” his expression is ridden in evil, a small upturned smile resting on his face and he stares into you.

“that was not my fault,” you spit back, angrily stepping towards him. “i am the ONLY person who TRIED to help ben and everyone who was in that chamber could tell you that themselves.” red flashes of anger spread across your skin as you continue to step closer to five. “he died from something completely unrelated to my powers, but I FUCKING TRIED! I DID, NOT ALLISON, NOT DIEGO, ME.” by this time you are meters away from being chest to chest with the boy. 

“you’re a waste of space. you disappoint everyone in this house.” he glares down, his taller figure towers over you menacingly.

"that's really rich coming from you." you take a step back and laugh to yourself. "do you know that nobody in this family likes you anymore? hmm? after all the shit you've constantly put us through, five?”

"i dedicated my entire life to saving your asses, i spent 40 goddamn years in an apocalypse just to come back and save all of you countless times! what do i get in return? impertinence." his demeanor is getting worsened by each remark, hot red anger is spread across his face as he snaps back at you. 

"none of us asked you to! you are always taking charge and forcing us to follow your plans, what if we didn't want to do this anymore? you're such a narcissist everything is always about you!" a near table rattled slightly from the yelling, the flowerpot on top shook before calming back down after a moment. 

"fuck you. fuck all of you. i'm TIRED of trying to save this family. if you all want to die in another apocalypse, then be my guest." he scoffs looking at you one more time and turns to walk away. "god you're so pathetic, always teleporting away when things don't go your way. you’re so childish." you hiss

"what did you say to me?" five spins back around, his feet carrying him back towards you. "you heard me." you raise your head and straighten up, holding his tough gaze. by this time the two of you are practically chest to chest again, his eyes beaming down into you. if he wasn’t human, you'd imagine smoke being blown from his ears and nostrils out of anger.

"say it again." 

"you're. fucking. pathetic." 

in a heartbeat his lips are smashing into you hungrily. one of his hands is gripping your face while the other snakes around your waist. all of the pent up anger between the both of you comes crashing down, blending into lust. he feels warm, his soul is bleeding into yours as his tongue explores your mouth. his hands are running all over your body, stopping to hold onto your mid section, then your behind, and finally dragging their way up to your neck. five pulls back, panting slightly, his eyes searching yours worried and confused.

“do you want this?”  

“more than anything.” you drive your hands into his hair, yanking his lips back into yours. his small smile is felt pressing into your mouth, fingers lingering around the belt loops on the front of your jeans. he’s pulling your body into his as he deepens the kiss, groaning into you when you rub against him slightly. 

he pulls away and leaves trails of hot wet kisses on the front of your throat. you grumble and moan at this touch, causing five to laugh into your skin. he leaves small love bites all over your neck and collarbones while you run your hands through his hair. his eyes glance up at you, a different light beams through them now then moments before. his anger has faded into something similar to love. his little pecks come to a slow rhythm before he returns to your lips. dragging you into him, the two of you slowly begin backing up towards one of the hallway walls. 

he presses his long fingers into the sides of your waist, shoving you into the stone behind you. five’s grip is firm and tight, stopping you from being able to wiggle loose. the way his mouth moves is like a work of art. there’s no doubt that someone had taught him how to kiss like this, but my god, you are thankful for them. you touch him memorizing every piece of his body from his chest, his jawline, to the back of his neck, and up through his hair. the way he leans into your touches with such desperation is absolutely god like.

his slight groans and noises grow in volume when you reach your fingers towards his waist. a sly hand lifting the edge of his shirt and running along the front of his bare body. his small smile returns, pulling back from your lips. 

“your hands are cold.” he leans forward, placing a kiss on your forehead. the invisible bubble draped over the two of you seems to pop. he’s moving hands into the back pocket of your jeans, keeping you pressed into him. you smile at the small actions, glaring up to analyze his face.

“come with me” five reaches for your hand interlocking his fingers between yours. his feet are ready to speed away as he gently pulls you toward whenever he’s leading. 

“five we can’t…” you look at him guilty. 

“no, no… not that.” his head shakes in disbelief as he smiles at you. “please just trust me and come” his hand tugs at yours pleadingly. 

there’s another moment of hesitation before you give him a small nod and move your feet to follow his. the grip he has on your hand tightens as he pulls you forward, a blue smokey powder flashes in front of you before realizing what he was doing. 

there’s a millisecond of discomfort and stinging before you feel the ground beneath your feet again. it hadn’t crossed your mind before how it felt for five to use his powers, but my god it was strange. 

the room is similar to a greenhouse with its large glass windows and open ceiling. it’s covered in vines and greenery with a small white pitched tent in the center. there are boxes and a large wooden table to the side, scattered papers sprawled over its surface. there’s a couple whiteboards on the back wall with calculations and symbols scribbled all over. the messy handwriting looks like five’s, and a photo of his stupid mannequin ex-girlfriend, delores, is hung from one of them confirming this was his doing. 

“where are we?” you glance at him before returning to observe the room.

“the highest level of the house, it’s locked behind one of dads bookshelves but i found it a couple years ago. i used to sneak in here when i needed a quiet place. it’s hard to be bothered when nobody else can get inside except for me” he smiles down at you, tracing small circles with his thumb onto your hand, still intertwined.

you analyze the writings and questions scattered along the room, puzzled about the true purpose of being taken up here. he looks at you confidently while holding a small pale wooden box with the umbrella logo printed on top. 

“i didn't think you were ready before, but i think you are now. i know how we will all survive the apocalypse.” 

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thank you so much for reading!

i hope you’ve enjoyed it, please feel free to make any comments or story requests down below. any support is always appreciated <3

[hollisxwrites]

Hi, can you do a short piece for Luke Castellan x reader, where Luke saves a mortal reader from a monster and they fall in love please?

as long as i'm with you, hero

gif is not mine!

THANK YOU FOR YOUR REQUEST!!!

word count: 1.1k

warnings: one singular swear word, reader calls luke a pretty boy, slight mentions of violence, overall just fluffy and cute, probably a little ooc and definitely doesn't follow the main plot.

summary: after luke saves the {reader} from a horrifying monster, they fall in love. that's it, that's the plot.

Before I even knew it, a creature I had only ever heard of in myths was approaching me. I was terrified when I saw the Antaeus, an ugly, brooding, red creature nearing where I sat on a bench in Central Park. I looked around, hoping someone saw the demon too, but no one even looked up. I felt crazy, deranged even, hoping, and praying to any and every god I knew possibly existed. I didn’t want to die today. I was frozen onto the cold, metal bench, not knowing whether to run for my life or not, wondering if I was hallucinating all of this. The creature was ten feet away from me. Well shit. I thought. I didn’t know I was dying today. 

Suddenly, as the creature continued to tramp towards me, a young man, about my age, in a highlighter orange tee-shirt ran at the monster head on. I was shocked. I thought I was the one who could see the horrible thing, but apparently, the handsome boy with the dark curls could see him, too. His sword slashed at the creature, but every wound the boy inflicted on him was healed by the Earth. I guess Gaea was his mother. The boy, then coming up with a strategy, jumped up on the monster and hoisted him up with his...what is that? Flying shoes? Then, he sliced the head of the monster, and it turned into ash. The boy fell to the ground with a sickening smack. He didn’t move, so I rushed towards him. No one in the crowd looked at the poor boy, except me. Could no one see what was happening except me? I rushed to the boys side, kneeling down on the ground. I placed a hand on his chest to make sure his heart was beating, and it was. His breath was steady, but it looked like he must of fainted from impact, possibly having a concussion. I couldn't tell if he hit his head or not. I shook him slightly, and then again, when eventually his eyes fluttered open, and oh my god, his eyes were stunning.  

“Are you alright?” I asked, concerned about the boy. He winced a little bit when he tried to sit up, obviously embarrassed to be lying flat on the cold ground.   

He sighed and winced at the sun that was directly in his eyes. “I’ve been better. Who are you anyways? Did you see everything that just happened?” 

I nodded my head. “Yeah. I feel like I’m the only one who saw the Antaeus until you came out of nowhere.” 

“Well, I guess you’re just different, like me.” He met my eyes, and I swear I could feel my heart beat out of my chest just looking at this stranger. “What’s your name?” 

“My name is {reader}. What’s yours? Thank you for saving me, by the way. I would probably be dead by now if it wasn’t for you.” 

He finally sat up to meet face me, ruffling his hair, trying to make it look a little more presentable, I assumed. “Luke. Luke Castellan. And, you’re welcome. Never hurts to help a pretty person like you.” 

“Nice to meet you, Luke.” I said, blushing slightly. “Now tell me, what just happened and why could I see something no one but you could?”  

That day, Luke told me all about the world of demigods, Greek myths, and gods, and how everything that I have been told about them is real. He told me that his father, Hermes, abandoned him to fend for himself a long time ago, and now, nine years later, he was here, fighting off monsters for a camp that he felt didn’t appreciate him.  

Something else I discovered that day was that I am in love with Luke Castellan. His dark eyes and scar on the side of his face that I wanted so badly to kiss, and his demeanor of confidence that I learned was a ruse all made me fall deeply in love with him.  

All of this happened six months ago, and now, this mysterious demigod who saved my life is my boyfriend, and I am an honorary member of Camp Halfblood, due to my inclination to see through what the people at the camp call the mist, which put me in danger. The camp was beautiful, and I learned skills such as sparing, archery, and sword fighting. I spent time with Luke on the beautiful sunny days that seemed to last forever at the camp. 

I was walking across the archery field in my camp tee-shirt and bathing suit, using my hand to cover my face from the sun. I was alone, or so I thought, when all the sudden I heard footsteps following me to the lake. I looked back and saw the beautiful face of my even more beautiful boyfriend. I paused my walking and let him catch up to me. He picked me up in his arms and spun me around. I let out a joyful laugh, holding on to him in order not to hit the ground. He sat me down carefully and looked into my eyes, smiling his gorgeous smile that captivated me all those months ago. 

“Hi.” He said, smiling down at me. The sun hit his face at the perfect angle, illuminating all his features that I loved so much. He looked like a god, and I guess that was fitting, because he technically was partially one.  

“Hi, pretty boy.” I replied, in awe of him. My hands rested on his shoulders as I continued to admire every part of his face. My fingers went up to trace the scar on his face up and down. He relished the feeling, leaning onto my hand. I moved to caress his face, embracing his warmth.  

His eyes fluttered to my lips, and I smiled at him, pressing my body closer to his. He pressed our lips together, and every time, I felt blissful. He tasted like sugar and sunshine, and he was so gentle and soft with me. He started to press kisses all over my face, causing my face to warm up, not due to how hot it is. He placed one more lingering kiss to my lips, grinning into me. He grabbed my hand.  

“Let’s got swim, sweetheart.”  

“Anything as long as I’m with you, hero.” 

He smiled, pressing a kiss to my neck as we walked. I hoped in this moment that these days of sunshine and my pretty boyfriend never ended.  

[questionotmystopit]

Self-aware AU in Genshin/Star Rail as opposed to the Player in HI3rd

In my personal interpretation of the players' influence/presence in the three games, it's quite nebulous. In Genshin Impact and Honkai: Star Rail especially, it would be borderline impossible to truly detect the players' existence.

Let me explain. The characters we control as the player are NOT the actual characters themselves. They are more akin to the copies of the characters you control in the Simulated Universe. The player clones are non-sapient copies of the characters they are based on, and the abilities of the playable ones are loosely based on their template character.

The player clones differ crucially from the real version because they only display snippets of their 'personality' at a time. (Voicelines triggered on certain conditions/Idle animations) The clones do not display true sentience, instead saying predetermined dialogue. 'Player clone' refers to practically every character we see in the game. The clones are made to recreate what is actually happening to the Trailblazer in the story. Meaning, every character you see isn't the real person.

The best way I can think to describe it is using a plasma globe. When you put your finger to the glass, the energy arcs on your hand, but it does not actually touch you. Similarly, you playing the games causes the world to react to you, but it cannot truly interact with you. The 'player clones' are shadows made by the arcs of energy reaching for your hand, but being blocked by the glass.

Also, the scene where you choose the Traveler/Trailblazer was you first touching the plasma globe. They are your main point of contact. They are your manifestation inside the plasma globe. That's why you default to them when talking to people, and why the world/story is almost entirely seen from their perspective. However, using pre-existing characters as a point of contact crucially changes the situation from Honkai Impact 3rd. In Honkai Impact 3rd, the player is nebulously represented as the 'Captain of the Hyperion'. However, the Captain doesn't exist in the main story.

The Captain canonically exists only as a representative for the players, meaning that players as the Captain are easier to detect than players as the Traveler or Trailblazer. This is because Captain's status as a pure self-insert (doesn't canonically do anything or express any personality outside of your will) means that the interference from the Player touching the plasma globe as the Captain is more direct and noticeable by beings with enough awareness (Aeons and maybe others).

Well, that's all for now. I'm not dead, btw