#Really isn't in Sidestep's nature

[kittlesandbugs]

There's something about Sidestep's blase attitude towards inhabiting the puppet that tickles me. Something of a parallel to Sidestep's own trauma of only existing as a tool to be used. It's not quite the same as what they suffered at the Farm, of course, because Sidestep was aware of their suffering (especially the second time.) The puppet is functionally dead. There's nothing in the brain to suffer.

[tragedy-of-commons]

"are you crying?" + blade + platonic/familial (found family father figure blade with teen!reader) please :3

"Are you crying?"

Oh no.

Blade's question - if you can even call it that, considering he says everything in that deadpan tone of his - hangs in the air for a stagnant minute and then some.

Maybe if you don't make a peep, don't move a muscle, he'll give up and go back to minding his own business. It's not too far-fetched! Despite how savage and brutal he is in combat, he's surprisingly calm (and daresay gentle at times). Maybe he'll read the room, absorbing your aura wordlessly like Kafka can.

He grunts your name, an edge present that wasn't there before.

...or maybe not.

You break your silence, whirling around to face him, plastering the hugest, most saccharine smile on your face. It doesn't matter if there are tears rolling down your cheeks and a bit of snot sticking to your upper lip (ew). You have to try to get him off your back before something worse happens.

"Crying? I'm not doing that, no, never. You see, Firefly was in here chopping onions earlier," you chirp, rattling off lies like it's your second nature. Well, it is, that's why you got roped into joining this questionable team in the first place - but that's neither here nor there!

Blade looks at you.

You look at Blade.

Deflating and dropping the act, you swallow, trying to retain some of your cheery tone while you sniffle. "Okay, you win. I just... it's been a rough day, I'm sure you know how it is."

If there's one thing you know about your ancient colleague, it's that he can't make small talk for the life of him. You don't think it's his fault, really. Silver Wolf let it slip that he's lost pieces of himself to mara over the years - some days he can't hold functionality beyond a weapon without Kafka's pacifying mind tricks.

So, trying to keep up casual conversation with Blade is akin to yapping at a brick wall. You've gotten used to it, sure, but the way he's looking at you right now - with a pinched brow and somewhat of a snarl - is starting to unnerve you.

Does crying piss him off? You understand it's not a pleasant thing to deal with (not that you expect him to). But seeing him this angry outside of battle makes you want to run and drop off the grid for the rest of your life, abandoning your very important Stellaron Hunter duties and Blade in the process.

You swallow, wiping your face with your sleeve. You can't seem to stop miffing him, because he stalks over to you completely in two strides while you freeze up in muted terror.

Is he going to execute you?! Has he decided to circumvent Elio's rules just to shut you up? Is your pathetic sniveling really going to be your undoing? Will the others have to scrape your remains off the walls and floor, your life forever immortalized as a reminder to keep the waterworks under contro--

He all but shoves something into your limp hand, closing your fingers around it a little too tenderly before sidestepping you like he's been scalded by boiling hot water.

It's soft, and you eventually realize it's a handkerchief. It's the darkest navy can pass without actually being black, embroidered with neat red stitching and obviously made with love. You don't know why he even has something like this - it's not like he ever cries - but you let the train of thought go in favor of soothing your frayed nerves.

You don't think twice before bringing the cloth to your face and wiping the remnants of your sadness away, trying to find your words in the process. Your coworker is now standing shoulder-to-shoulder with you, all traces of perceived anger gone. The foot or so between you and Blade isn't a wide berth, but it's still too far.

"Oh," you manage dumbly, now sporting a considerably drier nose.

Unimpressed, he replies. "I know."

"What?"

Okay, you sense his frustration this time. Blade sighs and wrenches his head in your direction for just a moment, exasperated and tense. "I know... how it is. Like you said."

You tighten your grip on the handkerchief wadded up in your hand. It's strange to hear him converse with you willingly, let alone try to comfort you (at least, you think that's what he's doing). Even so, his admission strikes a certain chord in your heart that's dusty from neglect. You sneak a glance at his figure, and when you meet eyes of burning coal, he returns to glowering at the wall.

Everyone on this ship has been through so much, especially him. You're certain that Blade does know what it's like to have some shitty days; he's probably had thousands of them.

You shrug. "Yeah... um, I figured. Nothing much I can do about it though. Bad stuff happens to everybody."

A lengthy pause stretches on until Blade takes up the mantle.

"You can't do anything about it," he repeats, statement curtailing into a dangerous drawl, "...but what about someone like me?"

Someone like him. Dread and something like fondness washes over you at the implication. The type of person he is - an eponymous sword and scabbard that slaughters on command - cannot fix the type of anguish you're dealing with. He's offering to help in the best way he knows how, you realize slowly.

The fact that he's even offering to shed blood in your name is a bit scary - not just because murder is wrong or whatever, but because he's actively trying to care about you.

No one's ever done that before.

"Alright, who are you and what have you done with Blade?" you joke, grinning genuinely this time, even if lingering moisture clings to your lashes. "Kidding. As nice as the offer is, I don't think your, um, solution... will help either."

You don't think it matters anymore - you're already starting to forget what got you so down in the first place. Perhaps you haven't given him enough credit, because by the way Blade's posture relaxes, he also notices this. No murder necessary tonight.

"Stand tall," he commands, pointedly not meeting your eyes as he pats your head. Before you have any time to process that, he disappears quickly down the adjoining hallway, likely slinking off to shred some training dummies.

You fly into a double-take, jaw practically on the floor.

Seems like you'll have to interrogate the old man whenever you get a chance to wash and return his handkerchief.

As you open up your messages app to text Silver Wolf all the details (with a concerning amount of stickers), your day doesn't seem so rough anymore.

"Thanks, Bladie," you whisper secretly to no one but yourself.

🏷️: @akutasoda, @aviiarie, @lowkeyren, @https-sourlimes

a/n: i finally got it done! so psyched to work on another platonic/familial prompt and it's BLADE i'm so sick. thank you for this request! :D

event post here

[irisbaggins]

Because I'm procrastinating on writing about the history of RPGs, I'm going to actually do a little analysis on that "accidental mind control" scene. Specifically, I want to look at it critically as a text and not as a bit. Why? Well, because I can, but also because it's a really interesting moment that somehow actually fits wonderfully into the narrative.

When it comes to who got mind controlled by Sam, it was just Evan and Jammer that got hit with it, whereas K managed to dodge it fully. And here's why that's so interesting to me, narratively; K is the only one of the three hit by the spell who has refused to let go of their burden. Whilst K has had it pointed out to them that they cannot do everything by themselves, they have still refused so see that possibility. They still end up taking things on by themselves, which has only been further proven by their experience in the hospital. Yes, it was fun for them to live in a fantasy for a moment, but isn't it very interesting that K chose to be a doctor and to specialise in the field they had earlier horrifically failed? Yes, it was partially a gag by Erika, but goddamn does it not fit K's character. In a world where K can be a saviour, a healer, a fixer, they decided to be specialised in a field in which their previous mistake had cost them their friend's life. Erika is excellent when it comes to subtle character traits and flaws peeking through, and this "gag" is proof of that; K feels an incredible amount of guilt, but they try to handwave it off when it's brought into the light - "Just messing around in a hot tub!" - because they cannot process their failure. Because if they failed, then what is their point? If they cannot help people, then what are they even doing?

A thing that will never leave my thoughts when it comes to K, is how we were first introduced to them; with Erika describing K as being "chronically online", fighting with people on social media and engaging in social justice. And I have no idea about you all, but I remember being very much the same as a teenager. Of thinking that every problem in the world was mine to shoulder, and thus piling on issues that were never mine to hold. I see the same happening with K, but K hasn't let that mentality go. They have only gotten worse. They have an Atlas Complex: they take the whole world on their shoulders, convinced that they alone can save it. They cannot let go of that desire to help, that desire to fix, that need for control. They were always like this, since the moment we first saw them; they just channelled that into the rest of the Misfits during the events of the first season.

But in this season? They've been alone for a while, with only Teddy for company and as a voice of reason. K has spiralled into thinking only they can save magic, and it's causing fractures that we - the audience - are only just starting to see the consequences of. Their attempt of healing Evan - which I discussed here - was a natural progression of their guilt at what happened to Magic and the Magic World, as well as their guilt for Evan and themself splitting up where the former clearly got into a lot of trouble without them. K falling into the fantasy of the hospital was them, for a moment, experiencing success, instead of the ever-present guilt that is their current adventure. K could exist within that world, not because they let up on their need for control, but because they embraced the need for control in a world that was familiar and predictable.

Which then leads into Sam's incredible feat of magic, and K's ability to sidestep being controlled. Whilst yes, it was the roll of the dice that decided their fate, I also think any other option would have maybe been less impactful: both Evan and Jammer have begun to realise they can depend on others and let go of their need to control everything, but K hasn't yet. K has begun to admit that it is a problem, but has yet to admit that it is something they must change. That they should not be carrying this burden for themselves. They started to open up to Jammer, but they still have not talked about Itsy and what their work truly entailed. They're still hiding some parts of themself, not allowing others to help with their problems. They don't know how to let others in - at least, not anymore - and so they end up refusing to let up control. They cannot give themselves in to Sam's spell, because they have to solve everything on their own. They're slowly opening up to letting others help, though; Sam was not only able to get K out of the hospital, but K also included Sam in their plan to find the source of the amplification magic. They're just not completely ready to surrender fully to letting others help. Not yet.

But hopefully, soon.

Anyway. This episode was so fun, and I loved the look into everybody's character as they were faced with the challenges of The Trope Hospital. I can't help but want to dig my teeth into what all of these islands brings out of the characters, and how the narrative unfolds. I could go on and on about Aabria's worldbuilding, and about the cast and how they play their characters. Just. Ugh. Misfits is so good, y'all.

[magickfromscratch]

As an addendum: I talked to my therapist about spiritual psychosis, because I've had visions, and I have a therapist, and she had some thoughts.

If you are noodling over what kinds of spiritual experiences are psychologically healthy and not, Abraham Maslow wrote a book called _Religions, Values, and Peak Experiences_ that you should probably read.

Psychosis comes with compulsions. If you have an experience and still feel free to choose for yourself what you do and do not do, religiously speaking, it's not spiritual psychosis. Spiritual psychosis is psychosis with spiritual window dressing. It is spiritually themed, but not actually spiritual in nature, if that makes any sense. If your visions are threatening, and you feel like you can't say no to them, that is spiritual psychosis. If Hekate appears and tells you everything is going to be ok, but you should probably work on being nicer to people (and you think about that, and tell her maybe, but that's really hard, and you don't know if you can do that) that isn't.

Another problem, also with spiritual window dressing, but far more common, is spiritual bypassing. This is when you use spiritual ideas and practices to sidestep or avoid facing unresolved emotional issues, psychological wounds, and unfinished developmental tasks. So, if you take a theological position that the gods hate everyone who does X because it triggers your trauma, that is spiritual by-passing. If the gods comfort you when you are hurting, that is not.

Edit: If you want to know what causes psychosis, here is an article. Funky religious and spiritual practices aren't on the list.

[awkward-walking-potato]

Hi, I saw you were taking requests for Deadpool and I thought it be super funny if he met a reader who could keep up with him (weird inappropriate comments/ humor/ pop culture references) minus the 4th wall breaks ofc.

If this isn't up your alley feel free to ignore this, ty 🖤

Killing Me Softly

I hope you enjoy ☺️

The warehouse was dark, damp, and perfect for an old-school showdown. Deadpool swaggered in, humming the theme from Mission: Impossible, pistols twirling in his hands like a kid who found his mom's nunchucks and figured out that laundry day was a myth. He scanned the shadows for his target, the very high-profile CEO of a very high-profile company that no one cared about. His orders were clear: terminate with extreme prejudice. Or, at the very least, with a strong dislike.

But instead of the balding businessman cowering behind a crate, he found something else. Or rather, someone else.

“Hey there, Red,” a voice purred from behind a stack of crates. A woman stepped out, dressed in sleek black leather, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Her outfit screamed "I'm here to kick ass," but the smirk on her lips whispered "and maybe take names if I feel like it."

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Catwoman’s cooler cousin,” Deadpool quipped, cocking his head to the side. “Let me guess: you’re here to pick up my leftovers? Sorry, but I don’t share my Happy Meals, even if they come with a toy.”

She laughed, a sound that danced between sultry and psychotic. “Sorry, Red, but I’ve got dibs on the target tonight. And if you don’t step aside, I might have to take you out instead.”

Deadpool’s mask crinkled as he grinned beneath it. “Oh, I’m shaking in my combat boots. Really. You sure you can handle this much Deadpool? I’m like Taco Bell at 2 a.m.—a lot to digest and with a real kick on the way out.”

She twirled a knife between her fingers, eyes narrowing. “I’ve handled worse. Besides, aren’t you a little old for the whole ‘merc with a mouth’ shtick? I thought the red was just to hide the gray hairs.”

“Ouch, right in the ego!” Deadpool clutched his chest dramatically, stumbling back a step. “But baby, this mouth is still as fresh as morning breath after a night of garlic bread and Netflix. And this face? Well, it’s why I wear the mask. Wouldn’t want you falling for me too hard before we even have our first death match.”

She raised an eyebrow. “First? Honey, I’m aiming to make it our last. Unless you’re into that whole ‘till death do us part’ thing. You strike me as the clingy type.”

Deadpool shrugged, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Only when it comes to chimichangas and Hugh Jackman’s biceps. But let’s get one thing straight—I’m not the guy who buys flowers after the first fight. I’m the guy who leaves you a ‘sorry I tried to kill you’ card. Hallmark doesn’t make those, but they should.”

She rolled her eyes, finally lunging forward with the grace of a panther. Deadpool sidestepped her attack, spinning around to face her as she whipped a leg toward his head. He ducked, blocking her next punch with his forearm.

“Nice moves. Did you learn those in a ballet class, or are you just naturally graceful?” he teased, grabbing her wrist and twisting it just enough to throw her off balance.

She flipped over his arm, landing on her feet like a cat. “Funny, I was just about to ask if you got your fighting style from an old Jackie Chan movie, or if you’re just winging it.”

“Why choose?” Deadpool replied, spinning on his heel to deliver a roundhouse kick. She blocked it, the impact reverberating up his leg, but she didn’t flinch.

Their dance continued, the sound of their clashes filling the warehouse. Each strike was met with a quip, each dodge with a flirtatious grin. It was like foreplay with more bruises and less wine.

“Hey, how about we call a truce?” Deadpool suggested as he caught her wrist again, their faces inches apart. “You, me, a bottle of tequila, and some nachos? We can watch Die Hard and argue about whether it’s a Christmas movie. Spoiler: it totally is.”

She smirked, twisting out of his grip and pressing a knife to his throat. “Tempting, but I think I’ll take my chances finishing you off first. Though I do have to admit, you’ve got a way with words. Ever consider a career in romance novels?”

Deadpool froze, then slowly raised his hands in surrender. “Well, this took a turn. But, since I’m a gentleman and all, I should warn you—if you’re gonna slice my throat, be prepared for a lot of red. And not the romantic kind. More like ‘OMG, what did we do to the rug’ kind.”

She leaned in closer, her breath warm against his cheek. “Noted. But how about we skip the throat slitting and go straight to dessert? I’m more of a ‘death by chocolate’ kind of girl.”

Deadpool blinked. “Are you… are you flirting with me? Because I gotta say, it’s working. But I’m contractually obligated to kill your boss, so…”

“Contractually obligated to kick your ass,” she countered, though the knife hadn’t moved an inch.

“Touché.” He slowly lowered his hands, his fingers brushing against her wrist, almost gently. “Tell you what, you let me finish my job, I’ll give you a head start on your next gig. Maybe even throw in some pointers—how to out-Deadpool the Deadpool. Could be fun.”

She tilted her head, considering it. “And here I thought you weren’t the sharing type.”

“I’m a man of mystery. Keeps things spicy. Besides,” he added, winking under his mask, “I wouldn’t mind having a nemesis who can keep up with my banter. Makes the whole killing-each-other thing way more interesting.”

She chuckled, finally lowering the knife. “Deal. But don’t expect me to go easy on you next time, Red.”

Deadpool stepped back, giving her a mock bow. “Wouldn’t dream of it, darling. Until we meet again—same time, different corpse?”

She sheathed her knife and backed away, her gaze lingering on him for a moment longer than necessary. “Looking forward to it. Don’t miss me too much, Deadpool.”

As she disappeared into the shadows, Deadpool couldn’t help but grin to himself. “Oh, I definitely won’t. But I might just send a postcard.”

He turned toward his original target, whistling as he went. “Now, where were we? Ah, right. Extreme prejudice…”

The end. (Or is it?)

[ginnsbaker]

In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (16/22)

Chapter summary: You go through a difficult period following your breakup with Yelena, and you and Wanda end up falling down the rabbit hole for the second time around

Chapter word count: 6.4K | Warnings: Angst, Mild smut | Ship: Wanda x Female Reader

Author's note: Before you say anything, I have a plan. Enjoy :) P.S. My requests are open

AO3 | Masterlist 

Next chapter: Seventeen Part One

--

Sixteen

“And then she kissed you?” Agatha asks. She looks the same way she does when she’s actively participating in gossip, hanging onto every detail of the latest scandal that keeps most people entertained in their insignificant lives.

Wanda solemnly nods, as if validating a piece of tragic news.

“Why aren't you thrilled?” Agatha observes quietly, picking at her tooth with her fingernail. “I mean, doesn't that confirm that she still has feelings for you?”

“You remember what happened last time, right? When she did more than just kiss me?”

Agatha grimaces, “Right, of all places, in our stockroom." Then, her tone morphs into a more probing one, “But, did the kiss feel as if she just wanted to get into your pants?”

Wanda lets out a sigh, her heartbeat quickening as she reminisces about its tenderness. It felt akin to a first kiss—vulnerable, slightly apprehensive, tinged with anxiety, and yet, at the same time familiar—like finding her way back home.

It was perfect in every sense. 

But it was tainted by its very nature. It was a betrayal. And if there were truly raw feelings behind it, then it’s worse—it would mean that you have been emotionally unfaithful to Yelena. 

Wanda may have ruined yet another relationship.

In the midst of her internal struggle, she finally manages to answer Agatha, “It felt like hope,” giving voice to her undeniable feelings for you. “But she’s with Yelena.”

“I never really had faith in that relationship to begin with,” Agatha retorts dismissively, cleaning her hands with a towel before reaching for one of the cookies on display.

“That's a terrible thing to say,” Wanda chides.

“I’m only being honest,” Agatha says, unapologetic in her bluntness. “You were fucking each other like rabbits and then a few weeks later, she gets a girlfriend. That's a classic rebound scenario. I'm surprised the woman she's with allowed herself to be used like that.”

Wanda finds Agatha’s uninhibited words a little offensive, though she understands that their deepening friendship has allowed for such unfiltered honesty between them. Even though she's jealous of Yelena, Wanda understands that she is good for you. She doesn't like how Agatha talks about Yelena as if she's too naive to try a relationship with you.

Wanda feels she can relate with Yelena. Often, love makes us scared that we might never get a second chance, so we choose to take a leap of faith, despite the warning signs.

“So, what are you planning to do about it?” Agatha asks, taking a bite of her favorite cookie. Wanda makes a mental note to deduct that cookie from the stock count.

Wanda shakes her head, replying, “Nothing,”

Agatha pauses mid-chew, her eyes wide with shock. Wanda can't help but observe the crumbs of food lodged in her teeth. “You're not going to seize this opportunity?” Agatha questions, disbelief coating her voice.

“Y/N needs to sort things out,” Wanda lets out a heavy sigh. “Without my interference.”

“You’re not afraid of missing out on this chance?”

Wanda sidesteps Agatha's question with one of her own. “Why are you suddenly supportive? It wasn’t long ago when you couldn't stand her.”

“I’m supportive of you. I’m rooting for your happiness, dear. But I’ve seen you at your worst, and I think you’re putting on a brave face right now.”

Wanda's eyes dip down. Her friend isn’t entirely wrong.

“What happens if she decides to stay with Yelena?” Agatha probes further.

Wanda's response isn't immediate; she takes a moment, seemingly lost in thought, before replying softly, “Then I hope she’ll be very happy with her.” 

Agatha rolls her eyes, because of course, Wanda would say that. Even if you were being served to her on a silver platter, she’d worry for your happiness over her own. 

“And where does that leave you?” Agatha asks, folding her arms across her chest.

Wanda lifts her shoulders in a casual shrug, her face unreadable. “Living life as it comes, I guess. Just one day at a time.”

At this, Agatha decides to drop the subject. She has a strong feeling that Wanda’s just waiting for you to come to her, and when you do, she's certain that Wanda won't maintain this pretense of indifference. As for Wanda, she doesn’t want to obsess over what you’re doing or thinking. She doesn’t want to make the same mistake of hoping for an outcome that only you can decide.

Switching topics, Agatha raises an eyebrow and asks, “And the pup? Is he doing okay?”

Wanda smiles faintly, “I brought him home yesterday.”

“Well, that's a relief,” Agatha remarks. “Do you reckon Sparky masterminded all this to get Y/N to your place at an ungodly hour? Can dogs be that crafty?”

Wanda throws her an incredulous look. “Are you being serious right now?”

A wicked giggle slips from Agatha, spreading until Wanda finds herself laughing along. She doesn't notice the arrival of a guest until the distinct sound of the call bell jars her attention.

It’s Valkyrie, casually leaning against the countertop, looking awkward and so unlike her usual self.

Agatha casts a sly glance at Peter, who's been trying to catch her eye ever since Valkyrie stepped into the cafe. When Agatha isn't around, Peter fills her in on the latest happenings, a reliable source of juicy tidbits. Peter quirks his brows and discreetly nods towards Valkyrie, his mouth miming a silent message. Reading his lips, Agatha pieces together that this is the woman who recently found herself entangled in Wanda's intricate web.

Agatha sweeps her eyes over the woman appreciatively. Not bad. Not bad at all.

Wanda rubs her palms together, a habit she’s developed before taking a customer order. “Hi, Val! What is it for today? We have new beans delivered all the way from Niseko–”

“Actually,” Valkyrie softly cuts her off. “I was hoping we could talk?”

Agatha watches their exchange, an eager twinkle in her eyes. With the pace at which interesting events are unraveling, she may as well pop a bag of microwave popcorn to truly savor the unfolding drama.

Wanda nods and moves away from the counter, temporarily handing the reins to Agatha. They pick a spot in the furthest corner from the kitchen, well out of earshot, much to Agatha's disappointment.

“First off, I owe you an apology,” Valkyrie begins. “I’d blame it on the alcohol, but there’s no excuse for me pressuring you too much to take shots. That wasn’t cool at all. You already said no several times and I ignored you.”

Wanda waves her off casually. “Oh, it's alright. I appreciate the apology, but it wasn't that big of a deal. You couldn't have forced me to drink if I really didn't want to, right?”

Valkyrie's frown dips further at Wanda's easy dismissal of the issue. “No, Wanda. If I'd kept on, I might've pushed you into it even if you didn't want to. I'm just glad Y/N stepped in when she did.”

Something flashes in Wanda’s eyes at the mention of your name. Valkyrie catches it but opts to ignore it for the meantime.

“Yeah, I did feel a bit cornered that night,” Wanda concedes, a smile returning to her face. “But it's water under the bridge now. Was there something else you needed to discuss?”

“You sure don't beat around the bush, do you?” Valkyrie attempts to lighten the mood, but her tension is evident in her shaky voice and the way her fingers fiddle with her watch.

Wanda chuckles. “It's a skill I've been honing lately.”

Taking a deep, measured breath, Valkyrie gathers her courage. "Alright, here it is..."

Wanda tilts her head at her curiously, wondering what it’s about.

“I like you,” Valkyrie blurts out. “I don’t normally confess to someone I’m not even dating, but you’re… incredible. That's how I feel about you and I thought you should know."

“Oh! Uh…” Wanda trails off, blushing at Valkyrie’s confession.

Valkyrie nibbles at her lip, observing as Wanda fumbles to put her thoughts into words. She silently hopes she's left Wanda speechless in a good way.

“There’s… someone,” Wanda manages to utter out eventually. “I've been in love with her for the better part of my life.” Or maybe her whole life, if she’s being brutally honest.

Valkyrie nods, her throat tightening to hold back the sting of rejection. “It's her, isn't it?” she ventures, silently alluding to you.

Wanda diverts her gaze and emits a modest laugh. She must have made her feelings too obvious for anyone to see.

“She’s my ex-wife,” is all the explanation Wanda offers.

“Wow,” Valkyrie looks taken aback by the revelation. “That sounds messy.”

“It's beyond messy,” Wanda retorts.

“Go on,” Valkyrie encourages.

Wanda looks at her, thoughtful. “Are you sure you want to delve into my past? It might take some time.”

Valkyrie smiles, already leaning in closer to signify that she’s all ears. “I made time this morning specifically to talk to you. I want to understand, at least, why I'm being rejected.”

Wanda chuckles softly at the gesture. Collecting her thoughts, she starts to narrate a condensed version of the turbulent history she's had, of how she ruined everything that’s good in her life.

When Wanda wraps up her story, Valkyrie simply says, "Wow, that's... pretty fucking messed up."

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Wanda admits, biting her lower lip, anxiety swirling in her gaze. She worries that revealing her darkest past may have cost her a budding friendship. “I think I saw your interest, but I didn't want to jump to conclusions and have the wrong idea. I just wanted us to be friends. I still do, if that's okay with you.”

“Of course, I want to be friends with you, Wanda. More than the fact that you’re hot, we have a lot in common too.”

Wanda's cheeks tinge a soft pink at Valkyrie's flippant comment about her being ‘hot’.

“So, friends then?” Valkyrie extends her hand.

Wanda smiles in relief. “Friends.”

***

A phone call rouses you from sleep. You groggily glance at the clock and realize you've overslept.

“It’s done,” your lawyer's voice cuts through the grogginess as soon as you pick up the call.

Disoriented, you squint against the daylight streaming in through the window. “What are you referring to?” you inquire, your voice hoarse from sleep.

“Vision has settled,” she elaborates, her words crisp and distinct. “And he caught a flight to Tokyo last night.”

“He's gone?”

“From what I've heard, he intended to use the settlement money to finance his studies overseas. He won't be returning in the near future. But even if he does decide to cut his trip short, you're safe. He has no legal means to trouble you anymore,” she assures you.

“You've got snitches now?” you quip, your eyes narrowing in suspicion even as the beginnings of a smile tug at the corners of your mouth.

Her laughter rings out through the phone, followed by a breezy, “You're welcome,” before she ends the call.

It's over. A chapter of your past has finally closed. Vision has physically left the city, and you've literally paid your dues. You hadn't realized you were in a kind of self-imposed cage until now, when a sense of liberation pulses through your veins.

Before you can fully indulge in the relief provided by your lawyer's news, however, a persistent knock at your door breaks your reverie. You can't help but wonder who it could be, and how they bypassed the building's security without a notification from the concierge.

As you pull the door open, you find yourself face to face with the last person you expected to see.

“Nat?”

She appears ready to tear you apart. For a moment, the thought crosses your mind, 'this is it, this is how I go, at the hands of my best friend'. Strangely, you're indifferent to whatever she might inflict on you. Having her here at least affords you an opportunity to have a conversation.

Yet, Natasha doesn't respond. She doesn't even spare you a glance. Instead, she brushes past you and starts gathering random items into a large duffel bag she brought along.

“Nat, can you please just talk to me?”

“What for, Y/N? I have nothing to say to you.”

“Yelena broke up with me,” you say.

Natasha scoffs. “Yeah, no kidding.”

“Nat, please,” you plead. “You can’t just cut me out forever. I’m your best–”

“Are you?!” The outburst that tears from her is enough to make you recoil. “Are you my friend, Y/N? I woke up to my sister on my doorstep, in shambles. All thanks to my ‘friend’.”

You wrap your arms around yourself as tremors course through your body. Tears start to flow down your cheeks at the mere mention of Yelena.

“You want to talk? Fine, I’ll talk,” Natasha rages on. “I stood by you through thick and thin. I held your hand through all the shit you went through last year. I brought you into my home. I took care of you. I loved you–” Natasha's voice catches on 'loved', and your heart shatters at her use of the past tense.

“–and you just betrayed me, like I meant nothing. You betrayed my sister like she meant nothing. We both cared about you, Y/N.” Her voice dwindles near the end, her next words coming out just above a whisper. “So, no, we’re not friends. Not anymore.”

“Nat, I’m s–”

“You know what? I can’t fucking do this. I’m just gonna send someone to collect Yelena's things. If I don’t, just throw out her stuff like you did with your relationship. Goodbye, Y/N.”

The door slams shut behind her. You find yourself on the floor, curled into a ball, as you grieve the friendship you’ve known all your life.

***

Dark screens and unreturned messages follow.

Yelena has blocked you on every possible platform, cutting off any form of communication. Natasha hasn't, but she leaves all your messages unread, allowing your calls to go unanswered, seemingly enjoying your desperation. Clint ignores your texts, and Kate only responded once, promising to try and speak to Yelena for you. That was a week ago, and there's been no word since. You didn't think you'd be back in the dark place you were in a year ago, and the worst part is, you brought it on yourself this time.

The only news you get about Yelena is from your own mother. A few days after Yelena left your shared apartment, your mother called to ask what had happened. Apparently, Yelena had told her the news herself and asked her to take care of you and make sure you were alright. Throughout the call, you cried silently, feeling the remnants of Yelena's care for you even after you broke her heart.

And your mother, perennially at odds with handling emotions, simply offered her condolences. Although by doing so, she offered more support than she did when you were weathering your divorce from Wanda the year before. With your latest tragedy out of the way, she proceeded to ask if you could make time to visit Montauk over the holidays.

***

Drinking is… a problem. Again. 

But you approach it with more caution this time. You don’t drink as much at home so you can avoid not showing up at work the next day. Rather, you sneak in a flask in the office, sipping from it from time to time to keep you the right amount of…adrift. You’re too good with numbers that even with a little haze in your head, the alcohol doesn’t interfere with your work. 

It interferes with other thoughts.

***

When Kate finally calls you, you’re in the middle of a disastrous presentation at work. Her words had been brief, only giving you the time (three in the afternoon) and location (The New York Public Library) where she wanted to meet. 

It takes some time for you to locate Kate within the vast elegance of the Rose Main Reading Room. She's tucked away in the northeast corner, engrossed in her work, even on a Sunday. A towering pile of books rises to her eye level on her desk.

“I can’t believe I was wrong about you.” Kate says without looking up as you settle on the vacant seat next to her.

“Wrong about me?” you ask, keeping your voice in a hushed tone.

“I had this fleeting thought that you might actually be a good person.” she says.

Swallowing hard, you struggle to find a response, well aware that Kate is just laying out the facts. What kind of person would cheat on their best friend's sister? What kind of person would throw away years of trust and a lifelong friendship?

“She told you?” you finally manage to ask.

“Yelena didn’t say much,” Kate says with a hint of sorrow. “But I've never seen her look so…” she trails off, struggling to find the right words, and eventually concludes, “She doesn't look like the Yelena I know.”

You’re afraid to ask what she means by that. You haven’t looked in the mirror yourself, in fear of seeing the results of your own wreckage.

“She quit today, you know?” Kate reveals, setting down her pen to give you her full attention. You don't see resentment in her eyes, only caution. This is the most compassion you've been shown since your relationship with Yelena fell apart. 

The news of Yelena's resignation hits you like a punch to the gut. She had a promising career ahead of her, and she'd found a supportive environment in her workplace. It's hard to believe she'd just abandon that so abruptly. You feel a wave of nausea at the thought.

“I sort of saw it coming,” Kate adds. “Not her resignation–God, I tried my best to talk her out of it, but she wouldn't budge. I… I saw you running back to Wanda.”

Your eyes narrow curiously as you regard Kate. “How?” 

Kate sighs, pushing a pile of papers to the side to give you her full attention. “It's not a secret, you know. You might think you're being discreet, but you’re more transparent than you'd like to believe. You’re a completely different person when she’s around. I saw it during the 6-miler event we all joined by chance.”

There’s no point in denying any of that. The weeks that follow after that, you were crying to your mother regarding your conflicted feelings about Wanda. But if you had been aware of the signs as early as then, would things be different somehow?

“I didn't mean for any of this to happen, Kate,” you say, the words sounding weak and inadequate to your own ears.

“I know,” Kate says quietly, and there's a touch of sympathy in her eyes that makes you feel even worse. “But that doesn't change the fact that it did happen. And people are getting hurt because of it.”

You can sense that Kate is one of those people–by hurting Yelena, the girl she clearly loves. 

“I’m… I’m sorry,” you whisper. You wish there was another way to convey how sorry you are–a keyword to make it all go away.

“Yeah, me too. Mostly because I have to tell you that we can no longer be friends.” Kate says, looking genuinely upset about her decision, her gaze dropping to her hands as she twirls the pen between her fingers.

“I know,” you nod, appreciating her honesty. “Thank you.”

“Look, I have no idea how deep your thing with Wanda goes. All I know is you can’t keep running away. You can’t keep hiding behind the comfort of other people.”

You bob your head in acknowledgment, even though you're uncertain how to put her words into practice.

"Can you pass on a message to Yelena for me?" you ask, wringing your hands together nervously.

Kate lets out a sigh, her fingers halting their movement on the pen. “I’ll try. No promises though.”

“Could you tell her that I'm sorry...that I truly loved her?”

A moment of silence follows your request as Kate studies you, her lips pursed. It might seem hypocritical of you to make such a claim, but she refrains from passing judgment. But seeing your bloodshot eyes and your pale chapped lips and the lack of life in you, she thinks there’s probably some truth to it.

***

It takes you an additional week before you summon the courage to visit Wanda's apartment. 

Truth be told, you've been hiding away in shame, confining yourself to either your bedroom or your office, instructing your assistant to keep the door closed and not to disturb you, secluding yourself from the outside world. Aside from interactions at your work, you haven’t talked to anyone. 

A moment of misjudgment led you to lose everything that you were left with when you lost Wanda. But gradually, even as you were beating yourself up over and over again with the dissolution of your relationship with both Romanovs, Wanda became the only one you can think about. You can't escape her pull, no matter how hard you try. 

Eventually, you devolve into nothing more than a compulsion; a compelling need to see Wanda. Which is what brings you here, with your fist poised to knock on the door. But just before your knuckles make contact with the wooden panel, the door swings open, and Wanda's voice unthinkingly spills into the hallway where you stand.

“–let me ask if the neighbor has some sugar–” Wanda halts dead in her tracks as she comes face to face with you.

The timid smile on your face drops as soon as you realize she's not alone. Behind her, comfortably perched on the couch is Valkyrie.

“Seems like you're already entertained. I'll head out,” Valkyrie proposes, getting up on her feet. “I'll pick up my shirt when you come around for the run next week, sound good?”

Wanda nods in a daze to that, her eyes never leaving you.

"No, I should leave," you counter weakly.

“No, Y/N, please stay,” Wanda implores. “See you later, Val. Thanks for the shoes.”

You stiffen and step aside as Valkyrie moves to gather her belongings. When she finally approaches the door, standing next to you, she tilts her head to murmur a parting sentiment intended for your ears only.

“You’ve got it all wrong. I had a spill on my shirt. Don't let her down this time,” she whispers. 

Her words stun you into silence long after she's left.

“Y/N? Please, come in,” Wanda invites you, her voice trembling slightly. Nodding silently, you step inside.

You regard each other quietly, simply observing one another for what feels like an eternity. This isn’t how you imagined things would go when you thought about coming here this morning. You wanted to see Wanda because you needed to be with her. But now, all you can think about is Wanda and Valkyrie being all over each other.

“It’s been awhile,” Wanda offers, not really sure how to begin as you stay awkwardly near the door–as if you’re strategically placing yourself there in case you decide you want to run. She studies you, attempting to read your expression, to figure out what this could be about. She’s been thinking about the thumb drive that contained the video of her and Vision. Did you finally see it? Did you decide to pay him off?

Or is this about Yelena? Wanda’s been thinking if you came clean to your girlfriend about the kiss, wondering if you've managed to patch things up, and if Yelena has forgiven you.

If you’ve chosen to be with Yelena after all.

“Yeah, Valkyrie was here pretty early, wasn't she?” you state more than ask, a hint of bitterness edging your words. You glance at your watch, adding, “At 6:30 in the morning, no less.”

Wanda furrows her brows at your tone, as though she's on the receiving end of an unfounded accusation.

“She was on her morning run, dropped by to hand over a pair of shoes from her club's sponsor. Nothing more,” she explains.

You snort, "Sounds awfully convenient."

Rather than entertain your skepticism further, Wanda redirects the conversation elsewhere. What you presume about her and Valkyrie is the last of her worries right now.

“Why are you here, Y/N?” Wanda asks, her voice a little unsure. When your eyes meet hers, Wanda sees the signs of sleepless nights and a certain emptiness that paints a clear picture.

You and Yelena are done.

And it's breaking you. Her heart aches, even knowing that you're now, technically, available. She never wanted this for you. And she can't help but feel that she messed up your happiness once again.

“I just... I needed to see you,” you admit with a half-hearted shrug. “Looks like you didn't waste any time though.”

“Valkyrie and I are just friends,” Wanda insists, the edge of her patience beginning to fray.

“You seriously think I'll believe that?” you shoot back.

Wanda heaves a sigh, exasperation seeping into her tone. “Believe whatever you want, Y/N. Doesn't change the truth.”

“She was wearing your shirt.” you highlight, not quite ready to drop the issue.

“She spilled coffee on herself. I gave her a clean one. That's it.”

“And I'm supposed to accept that at face value?” you challenge, an eyebrow arched skeptically in her direction.

“Yes, you are!” Wanda says firmly. “Because it's the truth. I wouldn't lie to you.”

I wouldn't lie to you. Her words reverberate within your skull, playing on repeat like a broken record.

And that's the crux of it, isn't it? You're not sure whether you can still believe her.

“Y/N, please,” Wanda's plea rings out, sounding lost and desperate. She isn't even certain what she's asking for. What she does know is that you're teetering on the edge of a breakdown, still reeling from the pain of your breakup. 

You don’t look like you’re in the right mindset to talk about what you’re going through. About how you both left things. And as much as Wanda wants to figure this out with you, she can’t do anything if you’re not willing to trust her.

“Wouldn’t lie to me?” you repeat, your voice laced with sarcasm and a painful sort of humor. “Alright, let's put that to the test, shall we?”

Wanda's throat tightens. She's unsure where you're heading with this.

“Yelena and I broke up. She left me that same morning,” you start off casually, as if discussing the weather. “Because she deserved better. Because I am, as it turns out, selfish and deceitful, right?”

“No–”

“You said you wouldn’t lie to me.”

Wanda's mouth snaps shut at your words, a sense of finality creeping into her. “...yes,” she admits quietly.

Slowly, you advance towards Wanda, your steps intentional and calculated. She remains rooted in her spot, refusing to back down.

“Do you feel happy that Yelena and I have broken up?” you ask.

Wanda looks hurt by your question. "Y/N, no, of course not–”

Your stoic expression tells her you're not buying it.

“Do you regret our kiss?” you probe, stepping closer, until Wanda finds herself backed against the wall. You lean in, foreheads almost touching, your dark eyes daring her to lie to you.

Wanda takes her time to answer, but when she finally does, her expression is resolute, as though she's trying to prove a point to you. “No, I don’t regret it,” she murmurs, her words a mere breath against your lips. Wanda looks so taken by the hungry look in your eyes that she fails to see what comes next.

The kiss this time is a stark contrast from the last. There’s an edge of danger to it, almost like the kiss that started Wanda’s downfall that culminated in a near-death experience, the kiss that was punishing and every bit of the hatred you harbored for her. 

But there's also a desperation to it–as if you're sinking and this kiss is your lifeline; a frayed, ragged lifeline that could only be the one to pull you back to the surface. 

As Wanda's head hits the wall with a soft thud, a pang of concern breaks through the haze of your fervor. Swiftly, you slide your hand between her head and the hard concrete, cushioning her as the urgency of your kiss escalates. Wanda almost sobs at the subtle tenderness behind your action, the considerate gesture leaving her somewhat taken aback, considering the harsh exchange you'd had just moments before.

No, this is nothing like your previous encounter.

You're not biting down to break skin. Your fingers aren't pressing into her hips hard enough to leave bruises. Your tongue isn't demanding or invasive, it's simply there, matching her rhythm and intensity. Wanda is unable to do anything but moan under you and rub her thighs together to relieve the pressure that’s building there.

Yet, you still don’t let her touch you. You don’t let her fingers venture up your stomach from under your shirt. Instead, you catch her hands, lacing your fingers through hers, and pull her arms above her head. All the while, your lips deftly trace a path down her throat. It’s soft and wet and so utterly delicate–everything Wanda thinks she hasn’t earned.

Nothing prepares her for the moment your hand makes contact with her core, even through the fabric of her shorts. She realizes just how much you’ve been holding back when you cup her forcefully, groaning from the heat and dampness that hits your palm.

If this means what Wanda thinks it means, she doesn’t want it to happen against the wall of her living room.

“Y/N?” she whispers raggedly in your ear, feeling the heel of your hand starting to grind against her clit. 

“Yeah…?” you moan against her heated cheek as your fingers slips beneath her panties and find wet, wiry curls.

“Fuck–” Wanda whimpers at the contact. “B-Bedroom, please.”

Following her lead, you hoist Wanda up and her legs instinctively coil around your waist. She directs you towards her bedroom with verbal cues, realizing you're far too engrossed in lavishing attention on the skin just above her breasts to care about bumping into furniture. Your hand drifts up her back, finding the clasp of her bra and skillfully unfastening it.

And then no words are spoken at all after that.

***

Wanda stirs awake near noon, realizing that she's skipped her therapy appointment. Instinctively, her hands reach out to the area beside her, expecting to feel your warmth. However, she is greeted only by the cool sheets of the bed, the space vacant.

You're gone.

While she had been lost in dreams where she had a second chance at the life she yearned to have with you, you had quietly dressed and slipped out of her apartment, leaving no trace or note behind. You had vanished as silently and swiftly as a dream at daybreak.

Wanda arches her back, mimicking the languid stretch of a cat, the resulting pops of her spine easing the tension more than the action itself. The sex was… phenomenal. She couldn’t think of a better word to describe it.

When a bit of the afterglow wears off, she is haunted by a question: What happens now?

More importantly, are you coming back? Or is this a one-time thing for you?

With a weighty sigh, Wanda allows herself to collapse back onto the mattress. Doubt creeps in as she begins to question whether her decision to let this unfold was the right one. After all, you’ve both been down this path before, sex was not a magic remedy that mended everything. 

What she couldn’t deny, however, is how gentle you were with her. You were making love to her, and nothing could sway Wanda from this belief. It sparks a tiny ray of hope within her that perhaps this time, you're ready to give her another chance.

Maybe, just maybe, you're open to trying again.

Yet, the vacant space next to her feels almost accusatory. Wanda has never been fond of waiting. But it’s the only thing she can do for now.

After all, beggars can’t be choosers.

***

The call from her therapist comes at around nine in the evening. Wanda considers it a little unprofessional, given the late hour, but she supposes that Calliope sees at least a dozen patients a day. Truthfully, she’s been anticipating this call all day, especially after she deliberately skipped her session to–

A soft snore escapes from your half-open mouth, drawing Wanda’s attention momentarily.

–spend time with you. Wanda can’t explain it, but she’s afraid to bring this up to Calliope. And she knows that if she sees Calliope or talks to her, it would open the floodgates and everything will come rushing out before she can stop them.

She's missed two calls now, but the phone in her hand vibrates again and Calliope’s name stares back at her.

Taking a deep breath, Wanda finally picks up.

“Hello, Wanda?”

“Hi,” Wanda replies, aiming to sound cheerful.

Calliope wastes no time getting to the purpose of this call. “You missed this morning’s session. Did something happen?”

Wanda's gaze drifts to you, sleeping soundly, your hair a mess as it spreads out in every direction. The sheets have slid down, exposing your bare back in a manner that makes her want to abandon the call and join you.

“Oh, uh... I just got tied up at the cafe. Sorry for not informing your secretary,” she hastily lies.

“So, everything's okay then?”

“Yes,” Wanda confirms, her eyes never leaving you as she replies honestly this time. Calliope seems satisfied with that and proceeds to book a slot for Wanda two days hence before ending the call.

You open an eye at her lazily, your voice muffled by the pillow as you ask, “Who was it?”

“No one,” Wanda says without batting an eye. “Just a supplier for the coffee shop.”

Your response is a drowsy murmur, your face sinking deeper into the pillow as you pursue the lingering traces of Wanda's scent. A smile tugs at Wanda's lips at the innocence of the gesture, despite the fact that you’re very naked under the covers. She hadn’t anticipated she’d see you again so soon, moreso that she’d sleep with you again right away when she does. But you had showed up unannounced, yet again, and casually asked Wanda if she'd eaten dinner already. Wanda had barely gotten the word ‘yes’ out, before you’re urgently reaching out and snatching her into a hungry kiss.

And then it was all lips and touches and her coming into your mouth three times until she had to literally cover herself with her hand just to get you to stop. 

Wanda's cheeks warm as she surrenders to the memory of your fervent reunion from only a few hours prior, but your sleep-laden murmurings, muffled as they are by the pillow your face is buried in, yank her back to the present. She chuckles lightly and perches herself at the edge of the bed, drawing a line along your back with her fingertips, raising goosebumps along the path.

"Can you repeat that?" she prompts, massaging your neck.

You lift your head slightly, your eyelids still heavy with sleep. “I said–do you need me to go?”

Wanda shakes her head, even though you can't see her. “Let’s just sleep,” she whispers.

Wanda gets up to remove her shirt over her head. Then, she slides back under the sheets and curls up against you. She presses her bare body to your back, fitting herself perfectly against your shape. Your warmth seeps into her, filling the cold spots that your absence had left behind.

Wanda notes that this is the first time you’re willing to stay since before you found out she cheated on you. She closes her eyes and allows herself to drift away. If you’re staying, then there's an opportunity to talk about this tomorrow.

***

Leaving a slumbering Wanda behind is not easy. You have to gingerly disentangle yourself from her grip to avoid waking her up. Initially, sleeping with Wanda was not part of your plan, but seeing her with Valkyrie had stirred a sense of jealousy within you that led to a powerful desire to claim Wanda as yours.

And so it kept happening, again and again–like a drug you just couldn't shake off.

You haven't really thought about what it all means. To be honest, you've been actively avoiding it. A week of overthinking has left you stuck at a dead-end, feeling numb and desperate to feel something, anything at all.

And in all this, Wanda is the only one who seems to fill the void, the only one who doesn't make you feel so alone.

***

“Dr. Williams?” Pietro says hesitantly as he picks up the call.

“Hi, Pietro. I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time,” comes Calliope's voice, clear and loud.

“No, I was just–did we have a scheduled meeting that slipped my mind?” he inquires, wondering about the suddenness of this call. 

“We didn't,” Calliope assures him. “I'm actually calling about Wanda. Have you had a chance to speak with her recently?”

Pietro doesn’t like the sound of this. “No, I haven’t. Is she okay?”

“She missed her appointment this morning without notice. It’s the second time in a row. And I just got off the phone with her… she was deflective.”

“I'll check in with her,” Pietro promptly assures, before adding more softly, “Should I be worried?”

“She has agreed to meet me on Tuesday,” Calliope replies, deftly skirting around his question. “So, it may not be a pressing matter. I apologize for disturbing you.”

“No problem at all, Dr. Williams. Feel free to call anytime.”

As the call ends, Pietro is left alone with his thoughts. His mind is whirring with worry for Wanda, and he sits there for a moment, lost in thought. With a sigh, he places his phone back on the coffee table, a frown etching itself onto his face.

Feeling restless, he picks up his phone again, fingers swiping the screen with a certain degree of nervousness. His gallery opens up, a collection of countless memories frozen in pixels. He scrolls through it, stopping at a particular picture that still haunts him.

It's a hard image to look at, a memory of a particularly painful day. But he keeps it, just in case he needs it, a ghost hiding in his phone.

He knows, if push comes to shove, he has this to fall back on.

Taglist: @blackluthxr | @esposadejoyhuerta | @secretbackrooms | @justgotlizzied , @casquinhaa | @marvelwomen-simp | @sunsol-22 | @wandanatlov3r | @kyaraderuwez | @justyourwritter69 | @stanolsevans | @aliherreraaa | @diaryoflife| @justagurlwholikes | @lizziesplant | @cowxpoke | @sokovianbaby | @swiftie1-0-1

[cosmicobubisi]

Cosmic's Malleyuu Whump vs Flufftober: Day 31

making amends / Make a Wish

Simultaneously posted to AO3 here.

"If you could make a wish for anything in the world, what would you wish for?"

As was so often the case nowadays, Yuu and Tsunotaro were walking through some of the crumbling buildings of Night Raven's campus, just the two of them.

At this hour, most of the lights were off. It made Yuu feel as though the two of them were at the brink of the world’s consciousness, and though it was isolating, it was also somewhat comforting to be alone with Tsunotaro.

Comforting... wasn't the right word.

Comfort could not describe the feeling that had begun to poke Yuu more and more nowadays.

It bloomed like a flower around Tsunotaro, drinking up his rainlike praise with zest.

Like the bud of a delicate flower, their feelings were similarly veritable to be bruised or snapped if the winds blew too sharply.

This is why Yuu refused to investigate the felling any further, afraid if they nudged it too hard, it would die.

Tsunotaro was just so hard to read. On the best of days, he was an open book, generous with the stories he chose to share with Yuu.

On the worst, he was sly, often bordering on duplicitous. He seemed to want to catch Yuu in a trap were they contradicted themselves, the only apparent reason for why being because he could.

"What would I wish for...?" he mused gently.

"Yep! Anything you want! Just one, though," they said, a goofy smile on their face.

It was such a simple question, perhaps even a frivolous one, but Yuu found their own sort of pleasure in drawing the mundane from the magnificent.

"Hmmm. What are the bounds of this wish?" he asked.

"I dunno. You can't wish for more wishes, I guess."

"How many laws of nature am I allowed to break?"

"Uhhh... just tell me your wish!" exclaimed Yuu.

He shook his head. "I don't have one. I was trying to establish the boundaries so I would have more Ideas."

Yuu sighed, laughing just a little at the end.

"What about you?" he inquired. "Do you have a wish you'd like to share?"

A wave of thrill rose up from Yuu's stomach to their spine at the words.

"I think... I think I'd want a way to make my soulmate stay with me forever."

They winced as Tsunotaro laughed.

"What a simple notion," he said, as his chortles died down. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to laugh at you. It's very romantic, is all."

Yuu's brow furrowed, stamping out their hurt feelings.

"I guess," they said, trying to suck the venom out of his words with their nonchalant words.

"It's simply..." Tsunotaro trailed off, gesturing with his hands in the night air. "I cannot imagine finding any one person so alluring, that that's what I'd wish for before anything else."

"Really?" said Yuu, surprised. It wasn't their own feelings they were thinking of- Tsunotaro always gave off such a princely, dare they say romantic, air.

But Yuu wasn't blind enough to think of him as a prince on a white horse in silver armor. No, Tsunotaro was a man of shadows, who loved dearly but sparingly.

"That kind of love," he continued. "It's dangerous, or at least that's my impression."

Yuu hummed. He did have a point.

"But isn't there something so romantic about that?" they insisted, not able to let it go. "Loving someone so hard you lose yourself, being unable to tell where you end and where they begin? I mean, people go their whole lives never finding their soulmate."

Yuu smiled to themselves. "I'd rather have my soulmate and face all the problems in the world, than be able to sidestep a few alone."

Tsunotaro gave them a curious glance out of the corner of his eye.

"There isn't," he replied. "Not to me, anyway."

"A person like that?"

"A feeling so strong that could make me supersede all logic like that," he explained.

His face darkened.

"That kind of love is fleeting. Hoping for it to last longer than a moment would be like catching a wild bird in a cage. It will either fly away or die of despair."

Yuu pursed their lips. "That's pretty grim."

"Ah. I apologize."

"It's ok," they said quickly, wanting to smooth over the situation.

"I see the appeal, but I suppose I'd simply rather live untouched, never knowing a love so deep so it could never leave a hole in my heart."

"I get that."

"But you'd still want that, then? Your wish would be a powerful love, even if it were fleeting?"

"I do," said Yuu with a swell of confidence. "Even just a moment of pure love like that is better than a whole life without it, right? Comparatively?"

Tsunotaro looked off to the side.

"I'd rather not," he reiterated. "I'd rather live in ignorance, and never fear losing what I never had."

They walked in silence, and Yuu sensed they'd upset him with their choice of topic.

"Hey," they said. "What'd you think about the magift game this last weekend?"

--

Encircled in fire, the courtyard burned brightly as Yuu stood in its center.

The smoke was turning the sky an odd color, and the flames cast the serene garden in a macabre light, and it morphed the shadows on Malleus's face, framing him in a grim, desperate way.

At least, that;s what Yuu thought, from what they could see. Their vision wasn't doing so good these days.

The circles under Malleus's eyes were deepened by the grotesque light, and he kept a loose hold on his staff as he held his other hand up in surrender.

"Please," he said, defeated. "Let us discuss this."

"We. Have. Talked." spat Yuu, clipping the end of each word to ensure they'd be emphasized. "You have talked."

"Yes," he conceded readily, head bobbing in agreement. "I have spoken, more than my fair share. That is why I want to listen now."

Yuu said nothing, trying to amp up the intensity of their glare.

He was talking to them like they were a wild animal to be herded. His words were laced with sugary sweetness, trying to get them to swallow the bitter medicine of his words.

"I remember," he said. "I remember what you said back then. About a great love."

It took a few moments for Yuu to remember the conversation. Their walks felt like they were a lifetime ago now.

Why bring that up now, though?

"I see now. I see the value in such a thing," he said, a pleading undercurrent entering his voice.

Yuu remained unmoved.

It was what they wanted to hear, but too little, and far too late.

Their lack of reaction must have confused him as to their receptiveness of his words, because he took a step forward.

Yuu instantly took one too, flashing their weapon, and Malleus took two backwards.

His surrendering stance had reasserted itself, and he kept his hand up.

A stray bit of something tickled Yuu's bad eye, and they reflexively tried to blink it away before remembering that made it worse.

Instead, they reached up to wipe away the copious amount of blood dripping from their wounded eye, hoping this time, it would be the last.

They couldn't quite get it clean enough to see out of, no matter how much they cleaned, and when they dragged their sleeve below where they thought their eyes was, Yuu ended up tugging at something that sent more blood rushing down their face.

The sight made Malleus cringe in disgust, or pity, or something.

It was some victory.

"I want that," he said again, a tremor in his voice. "Please."

Yuu stayed still, and the intimidation tactic worked.

"Between us, you were the only one who wanted to fight for love. Allow me to fight for you. Let me make our few moments last a lifetime's worth of happiness."

Something ran down Yuu's cheek, and they brushed it away.

It would have been romantic, had it been a tear shedding, but Yuu knew that was unlikely, with the tangy smell of blood so close to their nose.

"Isn't it worth it? To taste at the fountain of love, even if you could never drink again?" he said, giving his voice a stamp of triumph.

Yuu was fed up with this. Malleus's hopeless prattling, in an attempt to extend their own life by even a few minutes, had worn out the last shreds of Yuu's patience.

He had no right to do this now. They felt a bit angry, but mostly, hearing what they'd wanted to hear for so long just hollowed them out.

"I'd honestly rather die," they said flatly.

Yuu raised the gun, and pulled back the hammer.

[zagreus]

It's a shame no one can seem to do the Time War well, considering how FASCINATING a conflict it could be, as a cataclysmic event that literally shatters narrative causality in-universe, its splinters echoing backwards and forwards along timelines.

Then again, its ramifications really are more interesting than the event itself, aren't they? I like to think that the apparently disparate continuities of various parts of the series (novels, audios, comics, webcasts, etc.) are directly due to the effects of the Time War, ripples in history turning into tidal waves... and, I think, one could make a solid argument for this being textually the case, too! The Time War, even before it was ever mentioned onscreen, was an apparently inevitable occurrence in some form in nearly every medium.*

It also carries with it this metatextual implication that the Time Lords' existence was unnatural. The anchoring of the thread defied the natural order of reality. Strict, measured, logical linear time under the "care" of the imperial Time Lords... was unsustainable in some form. This was always going to happen, somehow. Whatever face The Enemy wore, the universe would still ensure that they would inevitably break the Time Lords' tyrannical hold on Time.

See them as they appear before the War: all-powerful, menacing, controlling (despite their protestations of non-interference, with that classic imperial "we know what's for the good of Lesser Beings" attitude. And after the War, even after their destruction was undone? All but powerless. Exiled. The incompetence and dysfunction of their stagnant society brought to the foreground. The legends are dead, and their powers of control gone. From a Watsonian perspective, you can even see hints of this elsewhere in the text, with the more outlandish and impressive powers of the Time Lords from the classic series contrasting sharply against the significantly more grounded nature they take on in the revival.

The Time War was NARRATIVELY cataclysmic, it ruptured reality and fiction, but... Nothing onscreen or in the expanded universe has QUITE managed to deliver on what the visible echoes of the War imply. It all tends to go a bit Generic Space Battle. Ironically enough, the series that does the most compelling take on the Time War (the EDAs with the War in Heaven) predates the Time War ever even being named as such.

*Also, from a fannish perspective, it neatly sidesteps the "what is and isn't canon?" argument that people are STILLLLLL going on about. Everything's canon, and if it contradicts something else, whooopeeeee that's evidence of the damage at the heart of the spiral politic.

[electronicwitchcollection]

Accidental mate; chapter 5

I’m going to stop introducing other characters and bring you more Grimmjow/reader interactions soon, honest 😂

You had made the long walk to your own division in search of Captain Kuchiki, wanting to brief him of your mission and return home. You replayed the conversation you had with the Head Captain through your mind as you traveled. He had asked if you believed you could be the one to teach Grimmjow, bring him into the fold. You sincerely hoped he would forget that ridiculous notion.

A week was more than long enough spent in his company. You didn't want to be lumbered with that task, you'd go crazy. You and Grimmjow were just too different. Yet quite similar, you hated to admit. You were both stubborn, unafraid of speak what was on your mind. You had always thought you were quite even tempered, not rising to anger, simply letting things go. Yet with Grimmjow you matched his outbursts.

There was just something about him that riled you up, made you quick to snap at his snarky remarks. You didn't like that, you weren't mean or violent, yet he made you want to throttle him multiple times a day. It would be better for everyone if someone else took over his training, better for him better for you. Familiar faces passing by snapped you from your musings, sending your comrades a cheery wave as you made your way past the Captains koi pond. You hurried up to the main office, hoping your captain would be in a good mood and allow you the rest of the day off.

You knocked on the open office door, peaking your head through as you softly called out "Captain Kuchiki?" You heard a rustle of papers, the drag of a chair against wooden floorboards followed by the sound of footsteps, too heavy to be the soft footed Captain.

"He's not here" Lieutenant Abari called to you as he made his way through the office. Face splitting into a wide familiar grin as you came into view, "YN! " He wrapped you in a brief but powerful bear hug which you happily returned. It was refreshing having human contact without the threat of your arm being bitten off

"Hey Renji, Captain isn't here?"  You asked, walking further into the room at Renji's beckoning hand gesture. He walked back to his desk, perching on the edge of it to face you. He had his arms crossed over his chest loosely, already shaking his head

"He got called away to deal with some noble clan stuff, how was your trip?" The grin he gave you told you everything you needed to know, Renji had already had the pleasure of meeting Grimmjow. The amount of glee on his face at the prospect of you spending the whole week with him was irking you ever so slightly. You had the feeling Renji was the one to nominate you to the Head Captain for that particular task, simultaneously sidestepping the privilege and dropping you well and truly in it.

His smug grin only cemented your suspicions. You and Renji had become friends through another mutual friend many years ago. Your friendship was very much that of squabbling siblings, plenty of teasing and and good natured jabs . You loved him dearly though, and knew he felt the same about you. He was as protective over you as he was all his friends and you made sure he was looking after himself when he got consumed with training or work.

"Probably went as good as you think it did" you shot him a knowing look, falling heavily onto the chair facing his desk. The weeks travel and the extreme emotions you've been dealing with the past week were catching up to you, you were exhausted "It was a nightmare Renji." 

Renji chucked at the look on your face, reaching over to mess up your hair playfully, retracting it quickly just before you swatted his hand away "and here I thought you were just the girl for the job"

"I knew it was you!" Suspicions confirmed. You would be getting him back for this, mark your words. "I've already told the Head Captain my report, he seemed happy with the way the mission went" 

"How was it really?"  He asked, Lieutenant mask replacing his shit eating grin. Renji took his position seriously, and while he was happy to be be friendly, tease and joke with his subordinates, he could knuckle down and be serious when the time called for it. It was something you actually really admired about him, not that you would ever voice that, his head was big enough as it was

"I had seen what I needed too. He's a good fighter, strong, talented. " you decided to give him the brief report, he could read all the details in your written report when you finally get a chance to write it. "But he's got an issue with authority. He doesn't work well as part of a team, and, I cannot stress this enough, he is the biggest asshole I've ever had the misfortune of meeting" 

Renji threw his head back as he barked out his most honest laugh. His stance had relaxed at your less than official end to your report, easing back into his relaxed posture. You were sure he wasn't even aware of it anymore, how effortlessly he changed between lieutenant and friend "Yeah, he's a real piece of work. Tries to take off Ichigo's head every time they see eachother, and every one likes that guy"

He wasn't wrong. You didn't know Ichigo well, had spoken a few times in passing due to having similar friends. Even without the fact that Ichigo had saved soul society multiple times, often at his own risk, he was a really nice guy. The fact that Grimmjow couldn't stand him spoke volumes about Grimmjow himself. "Well, now you can add me to the list of people Grimmjow would rather see without their head" you mumble from behind your hands, tiredly rubbing your face. Fatigue was catching up quickly, and as much as you enjoyed Renji's company, if you didn't leave soon you'd end up asleep on this chair

"Did he hurt you?" The dangerous change in tone had you peeking through your fingers. Renji's posture had straightened up, deeply unhappy look on his face. He looked just about ready to go find the espada himself, fingers slowly curling into loose fists. Renji had an unbreakable sense of honour, and hitting women was at the top of that list. He wouldn't stand for it, in any situation, especially if it involved on of his friends. You couldn't help but smile at his overprotectiveness.

"No, Renji. He didn't hurt me." You placate him quickly, watching the sudden anger fizzle out of him. His hotheadedness hadn't change much over the years, though he was working on listening to the full story before reacting. Something you greatly appreciated in that moment, you didn't want to chase him all over souls society trying to calm him down "We just argued the whole time, you know me, I don't usually bite my tongue"

Renji smile at your attempt of humour. He knew that all too well, you've both hand your share of arguments with eachother, both to stubborn to let the other have the win, wether you were right or wrong. "Hope you gave as good as you got"

"Of course." You match his smile, standing with an exaggerated stretch "Im going to head home for the rest of the day. Can you let the Captain know I'll report in first thing in the morning? I'll try and write up the report tonight" 

Renji nodded, throwing an arm around your shoulder as he walked you to the door "try and get some rest. You look like shit"  you elbowed him roughly in the side, enjoying the grunt you pulled from him. Asshole. He should try spending the week with Grimmjow on the road, bet he wouldn't look half as good as you managed to look.

——————————————————

Grimmjow was practically vibrating with pent up frustration. After the Captains had disappeared, and you had stormed off, he attempted to follow the captains to finish what they had started. Especially that big one. The one that dared to approach you, you, covered in his scent. His mark. Luckily for them, Grimmjow had lost the scent, too many shinigami polluting the air.

He had been aimlessly stalking around, trying to let off steam. He wasn't yet ready to return to where he was staying. He hadn't been allocated a place yet, wouldn't until he was placed into a division. He was temporarily staying in a room changed into a makeshift bedroom in that hat wearing idiots lab, near the edge of the twelfth division. The location wasn't bad, it was just outside a large Forrest, perfect for running and training. Further into the Forrest, leaving the walls that surrounded the shinigamis territory, he had found a few hollows he could hunt.

He didn't know if that goofy bastard was here or in the world of the living though, and wasn't in the mood to put up with his moronic insistence of trying to engage Grimmjow in conversation. During his rage filled walk, Grimmjow had gotten a little turned around. Actually, he didn't have a damn clue where he was. All the streets and buildings looked the exact same, so he didn't notice the fact he was in an unknown division until it was too late to retrace his steps

He wasn't lost. He just wasn't where he thought he was. He couldn't pick up any scents to indicate where he was, or in which direction he should be headed. He would rather chew off his own arm than ask one of the shinigami hurrying past him, avoiding eye contact, for directions . Fucking looking at him as though he were going to bite them. Idiots. Shinigami wouldn't taste good anyway.

The memory of your arousal coating his tongue pushed its way to the forefront of his mind. He could practically taste the phantom memory, mouth filling with saliva. Grimmjow angrily kicked at the ground, sending a puff of dust into the air and startling two shinigami that were passing by. Pussies. Grimmjow snarled at them for good measure, watching disgusted as they scarpered.

His skin was crawling. He hated how you were still invading his mind. Damn witch. It had been a couple of hours since he last saw you, with each passing hour his stomach twisted harder with a deep sense of unease. He was loosing his damn mind. He could still taste you on his tongue, feel you in his arms, smell you in the air. Wait. No, he could actually smell you in the air.

Grimmjow came to an abrupt halt, picking up the faint notes of your scent, his own signature musk intertwined with it. He followed the invisible trail, inhaling deeply, keeping it locked in his sights. As the smell became stronger, the buildings became further apart. Trees could be spotted over the top of the wall, the smell of grass filtering through the leaves.

He came to a stop out side of a small building where your scent was most powerful. This must be your den. Catching movement in one of the windows, Grimmjow jumped up the wall, camouflaging in the lush leaves of the tree, perching on a sturdy branch. He waited patiently, scanning the windows for sign of movement. He should leave. What was he even doing there, watching, waiting for any sign of you. It was pathetic. Weak. He growled deep in his chest at his behaviour, willing himself to leave.

Then you appeared. A light flicked on in a room containing a large nest, his eyes locked on to you. You had all your hair tied up behind your head, the strands swaying side to side with every step you took. Your body was wrapped in pink, flimsy material, it looked shiny under the light. It exposed your thighs, brushing over the soft skin there. He watched as you reached your bed, crawling over the space to lay on your stomach. You kicked up your legs, lazily swinging them back and forth, feet twisting together, rubbing over the back of your shins.

Grimmjow swallowed roughly, adjusting his stance as he crawled nearer for a better look. His trousers were tightening, restricting his slowly inflating dick. You had something thin and black in your hand. A pen, you were writing. Hand quickly scribbling over the paper laid before you. He watched as you tilted your head, flicking your hair down over one shoulder, teasing him with your exposed neck, his mark, shining brightly against your pale skin. Sending unknowingly, a flush of heat through Grimmjow's body. Grimmjow's tongue darted out to wet his suddenly dry lips, battling with himself internally

Screaming at himself to leave, to run as fast as he could away from you. His body refused to listen to his demands, eyes staying fixated on you. What was happening to him? Grimmjow was strong, he was powerful, he was an alpha. It infuriated him, the spell you had cast on him. He needed to find a way to break it. He needed to leave. Grimmjow pulled all his determination, ready to leap from his hiding spot in the tree, find his way back to his own nest. Then you slowly rolled the pen across your full bottom lip, parting your lips you pulled the pen into your mouth and sucked on the tip gently.

FUCK

Grimmjow shoved his hand down his pants, groaning as he took hold of his throbbing erection and squeezing. His hungry eyes focused on your lips, drinking in the image of your lips surrounding the pen. Grimmjow pulled his hand over his cock, squeezing the tip before rolling it back down the length. With a dissatisfied groan, Grimmjow quickly removed his hand, licking wetly over his palm before shoving it back into the confines of his pants,taking his erection back into his hand with long, strong tugs. His hand felt insignificant compared to the tight, wet heat of your cunt

His hand didn't squeeze as tightly, didn't ripple across his length. It didn't coat his cock in sweet slick wetness. Didn't moan in pleasure as he rutted into it. He watched as you pulled out the pen, tip wet with your saliva as you studied the paper beneath you. You tapped the pen against your lips, teasing it between your teeth. Grimmjow groaned, hips jerkily thrusting into his hand, his precum leaking profusely, slicking up the glide of his hand, dampening the inside of his pants.

His breath came out in short pants, eyes narrowing as he watched you intently. The angle and the restrictions of his clothing were uncomfortable, not allowing him the proper movement to adequately stroke his full length. He watched your small hand resume marking the paper, imagining how it would look wrapped around his cock, how small it would look in comparison to his own. He imagined dragging his cock over you lips, painting them with his thick seed. How you would suck on the tip, lick up the length.

He moaned, deep and guttural, hips rutting into his palm. His head was swimming, protests to stop quieting at the dominating commands to take her. There you were, laid out, waiting, willing. His mate, his to use, his to fuck. You grabbed the paper, placing it on a table next to your bed with the pen. You pushed off the bed with your hands, back arching, ass pushed into the air invitingly as you stretched out your arms in front of you. His hand moved furiously over his cock, chasing the explosion that would clear his mind.

You were in the perfect submissive position, like you knew you were being watched. Putting on a show for your king, presenting yourself for his taking. His hand roughly pushed against the clothing covering his engorged cock, trying in vein to make more room for his rapid hand motions. You sat back on your legs, glancing out the window. He held his breath, suddenly nervous you would spot him hidden in the tree. His hand slowed down on his cock, trying to minimise any movement that might catch your eye.

He watched as you crawled closer to the window, staring out into the darkening street before pulling closed the cloth that blocked his view to your room. Grimmjow cursed quietly, no longer having you in his sights. His hand slowed on his length, coming to a complete stop in frustration. He pulled his hand free, disgusted with his actions, touching himself, hidden away like a desperate pup. Grimmjow roughly punched the thick trunk of the tree, bark splitting open the thin skin of his knuckles as it splintered beneath his power.

With new found determination, he jumped from the tree, into the garden beyond the wall. As soon as his feet hit the ground he ran as fast as he could in the opposite direction, away from you and your magic. Running with an erection was uncomfortable, he roughly palmed the ridged length, commanding it to go down. He stuck to the shadows, using his agility to stay undetected.

Grimmjow needed help. As much as it pained him to admit it, he didn't know how else to break the spell you had put him under. Now that he knew where you lived, he didn't trust his instincts not not cloud over his rational thought and kick down your damn door and take you. He needed someone to tell him how to get back control of his own mind. The only person he could think he could demand fix this problem, unfortunately, was also someone Grimmjow wanted to avoid at all costs. Annoying bastard would drive him insane.

——————————————————

You rolled your head back and forth, groaning at the satisfying cracks your neck gave. After returning home you had fallen into your couch, falling into a much needed nap. After waking, showering and having a delicious home cooked meal, you started working on the written report ready for Captain Kuchiki the following morning. You had been sitting at your table for too long, stiffness creeping up your spine. You reread over what you had already written, deciding it was up to your captains standards. You carefully gathered up the paper and pen, deciding to finish writing your conclusions in the comfort of your own bed

You resisted the desire run and leap on your bed, fall into the warm softness. Laying on your stomach you absentmindedly kick your legs up into the air, steadily swaying them back and forth as you began jotting down your explanations. You had written about finding the hollow you were sent to cleanse. The battle plan you had drawn up and how Grimmjow completely disregarded your ideas, running head first into, what you could only describe as, a violent slaughtering.

You wrote about Grimmjows skills, his shortcomings. What you felt he could work on and what you thought was a lost cause. You wrote your recommendations for a scouting team, highlighting his enhanced senses, and how you witnessed them being used in the field. You reread what you had written, rolling the pen across your lips, sucking on the tip. It was a habit you had from way back in your academy days, it helped clear your mind enough to focus solely on your task.

You wrote about Grimmjows lack of knowledge to human life. His struggle with reading and chopsticks, adding a few others you thought should be investigated. Concluding your report with what you had verbalised with the head captain. You believed Grimmjow could be a great ally, if only the time was given to help acclimate him into this unknown way of life. You attempted to think of an example of Grimmjows ability to pick up on things quickly, when your mind drifted into a less professional setting.

Grimmjow quickly picked up on your non-verbal cues, adjusting his treatment of you accordingly to your reactions. He learned quickly the best places to touch you to draw out sinful moans. Adjusted his pace at the minute gestures you gave, bringing you to the most powerful orgasm you've ever had. Now how could you write about that while sounding professional? You tried to shake the thoughts, turning back to your report to make sure it was all correct

Everything seemed adequate as you chewed on the tip of your pen, looking over carefully for any mistakes or anything you could add. You had to force yourself to stop, before you spent the whole night adding and changing little details trying to make it perfect. You put everything on your bedside table before stretching out your stiff back. You stretched your arms over your head, kneeling up on your knees to elongate your spine and hear it pop multiple times.

Cracking your spine, all your joints really, was a habit that drove Renji crazy. He hated the noise, it made his skin crawl. So as any friend would, you did it as often as possible in his company. You huffed out an amused chuckle, sitting yourself back on your folded legs. You looked through your window, noticing how dark it was getting.

Grimmjow floated through your mind again. You couldn't help but wonder what he was doing. He didn't seem the time to go to the bar, socialise with the shinigami, did he even have friends? No, he was probably out picking fights like an idiot. Hopefully he had steered clear of the two captains from earlier, that particular fight wouldn't be pretty, and it wouldn't help him securing a place in the goeti.

You forced the thoughts away, closing your curtains to get ready to turn in. It didn't take you long to end up in darkness, sinking into your mattress with a long awaited sigh. You had missed being home, being in your bed. You tried to fall asleep, clearing your mind and relaxing into your mattress. Grimmjows cocky grin flashed behind your closed eyes, heart skipping a beat as you pushed the image away. You rolled to your back, screwing your eyes closed tight, willing sleep to take you.

Heat started to flush through your body, the first tingle of arousal made you squeeze your thighs together under the quilt. Your eyes snapped open, staring at your ceiling cast in darkness. Why was that brute still in your thoughts, it was a one time thing. A two time thing. It wasn't going to happen again, ever. Time to forget about it. There were plenty of single men around here, you were not short of options should you get an inch you needed help scratching.

You didn't notice your hand caressing over your body until it reached your breast. Your fingers circled your pebbling nipple under your gown, pinching gently. You moaned at the pressure, bringing up your other hand to give the same attention to your neglected breast. You tried to conjure up an image to help you raise your libido, images of bulging muscles and a chiselled jaw. You imagined strong hands replacing your own, following the curves of your body down to your core.

Your fingers brushed against your clothed pussy, remembering a heavy weight looming over you, pushing you into the mattress as they tease your opening. When you brush a finger over your hidden clit, hips rolling up to meet the sensation, Grimmjows face appeared looming over you, grinning down at you. Nope. You pulled your hands away from you, punching the mattress besides you in frustration. You were not going to lay here and touch yourself while thinking of that man,

You definitely turned to your side, grabbing your spare pillow to hug against your chest. You concentrated on emptying your mind, willing sleep to pull you under it's merciful hold. You fell asleep pushing away increasingly intrusive thoughts of Grimmjow as they infiltrated your mind, tossing and turning at the memories of Grimmjow growling into your ear. You dreamt of his hands on your body, the guttural way he'd groan in your ear. Reliving all the pleasure you had received in those two days that you would refuse to think about again.

[randomfoggytiger]

X-Files Attachment Styles: An Avoidance Shared by Two

Was reading this beautiful post and had some thoughts.

**Note**: Will ghost edit later~

In light of the Attachment styles posited by @agent-troi, it makes sense why Scully and Mulder developed their unspoken so early on.

If Mulder is Anxious-Avoidant, then it makes sense why he sidesteps voicing his needs and especially his wants, fearing rejection from his support system (parents, girlfriends, friends, partners, etc.)

If Scully is Secure-Avoidant, then it makes sense why she is able to balance a strong sense of self with the need for reciprocal affection and an inability to show her "weakness" or reliance on another person.

But because she's an intelligent woman, Scully would've realized Mulder communicates more efficiently with his hands and eye contact than with his words. Physical touch doesn't seem to be a problem from as early on as the Pilot; but keeping close proximity to her partner in strained moments that crack her "strength" is more of a challenge (ex. Irresistible, Memento Mori, Elegy, A Christmas Carol, Emily, etc.)

Despite Mulder being her priority since Tooms, it took Scully seven years to resolve her avoidant issues, making peace with her ability to pick the right choice (a fear stemming back to the rabbit she'd rescued and accidentally killed) and truly embracing life for what it was.

And because he's an intelligent man, Mulder would've realized Scully needs to hear reciprocal affection from time to time (or else, like you said, she jumps to Never Again and FTF and All Things conclusions.) Most of his compliments early on were spoken to the wind (E.B.E.'s "I think it's remotely plausible someone might think you're hot") or to other people (Irresistible's "pretty woman" and Syzygy's "rigid in a wonderful way", etc.) Never Again was the shakeup that caused Mulder to start making more advances towards Scully (as opposed to Home's rapid withdrawal when she angled his banter more seriously) progressing from "I knew you would tell me if I was making a mistake" to "You're my one in five billion" to "You kept me honest, made me a whole person" to, finally, "You are my constant, my touchstone."

Despite Scully being his priority since One Breath, it took Mulder four years to realize he could lose Scully and begin to dig deep and work hard to prove that he not only wanted but needed her. The real change happened over six years in-- "another life, another world"-- and culminated in an act of impulsive courage that led to their no-excuses-left-to-give kiss in Millennium.

(And isn't it interesting that both of their psychological pivots happened after getting a glimpse of what their life "could have been", i.e. Amor Fati and All Things respectively?)

Lastly, I think both of them recognized the Avoidant nature of the other: Scully had patience when Mulder ran off to the next big mystery instead of wanting a "normal" life with her (The Jersey Devil, bits in War of the Coprophages, Quagmire, Home, Detour, Dreamland, Arcadia, etc.); and Mulder didn't expect but learned to understand whenever Scully pushed him out of her personal walls (the slow build from Beyond the Sea to Never Again, Leonard Betts, Memento Mori, Elegy, Gethsemane, Emily, etc.)

(Sidenote: This dynamic would be yet another layer to their behavior in Never Again: Scully needed affirmation; but Mulder, having never seen or expected this side from her, thought she was gearing up to abandon him. By the end it's all cleared up... but neither is content with their separate but parallel awakenings-- my thoughts on the script here, in-depth meta here, and in-depth Typing post here.)

Conclusion?

Not much at this point, but I think the confident takeaway would be that-- really-- Mulder and Scully grew into their own with each other.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[autistic-sidestep]

OH ALSO FOR THE SHIP BINGO. Sura and Mortum because i KNOW that's brewing in your brain rn and I want to hear more about them 👀👀

suramortum!!!!!1 fuck it took me 5 months to answer this anyways throws this under the cut (it gets slowly more incoherent towards the end because i am very tired)

so suramortum. i hadnt considered them as a thing when i first played but gradually through codediving and exploring more of mortum's route i really liked the new dimensions it showed of sidestep + how multifaceted the good doctor was. I’ve been fiddling a lot with sura + made it more ruthless + calculated, therefore nudging itself further away from ricardo/heroic persona, and mortum represents a lot more present/future thinking whereas ric’s looking back at the past.

to me i think sura did earnestly first fall for mortum all the way back in rebirth at the cape scene:

You watch the image of the armor rotating in the air as Dr. Mortum adds a variety of capes to the sleek image. There's a look of almost childish joy on her face that makes it hard not to smile in return. "I didn't know you were so fond of capes," you tease. "I'm not." There's a pause, and a sheepish shrug. "Alright, maybe I am. It adds a sense of style that I feel most people these days lack."

someone else who also enjoys design and knows there's power in appearances and genuinely just being able to collaborate with a fellow artist was really nice for sura

Besides the t4t they’re both lonely people starved/desperate for connection and that juxtaposition w/ the fronts they maintain to keep themselves safe, and mortum's route really hits the heart of sura’s issues. eg at the gala:

"It's an interesting feeling, isn't it?" Dr. Mortum looks around the crowd for a moment before returning ${mhis} gaze to you. "To look back and realize how much you've changed. How far you've come." "I suppose." You snort a little in amusement. For a moment, you can see your younger self, standing in a party not unlike this one, feeling completely overwhelmed for very different reasons. "Never thought I'd end up like this." "For people like us, the first time stepping out of line means stepping into our own. I recognized a kindred spirit in you from our first meeting." You turn to look at the good doctor, frowning a little as you try to decide how you are supposed to handle this conversation. $!{mhe} has turned out to be more perceptive than you bargained for.

  #I'm curious about what ${mhe} thinks of me, so I will let ${mhim} continue leading the conversation.     "Really? What kind of a kindred spirit is that?" You smile a little coyly, pushing back your nervous twitch about being investigated like this.     "Someone who is in the process of reinventing themselves." $!{mhe} rubs ${mhis} chin a little, looking you over. "Into what, I'm not sure."     "Isn't that true for everybody, though?"     "Sadly, no. Most people are satisfied with what life has given them. They might whine and complain, but they will make no attempt to change their circumstances."     "But I am?"     "Are you telling me that I'm wrong?" Dr. Mortum looks honestly puzzled, as if nobody had ever dared to do that before.     "Not exactly…." You drag out the pause a little too long. "Just that I'm uncomfortable with being scrutinized this closely."     "I'm not your enemy, ${title}." $!{mhe} smiles a little as ${mhe} looks into your eyes. "Quite the opposite, in fact."

the transtalk during the lovers scene route (which i am always at least a little irritated that sura can’t reach naturally because being intersex and trans are mutually exclusive so i edit the savefile just for that) and the (good) reveal scene really cemented junomortum/suramortum for me though.

Sura’s always masking and acting and lying because it’s an ingrained habit from the Farm and a defense mechanism (and we also can’t forget those identity issues). mortum is one of the few people that's perceptive enough (and that's allowed) to see through some of sura's facades (partly because there's none of the baggage of knowing what sura Used to be like the way it is with chen and ortega)

trans lovers talk:

"I'm sorry," you say [...] "I didn't mean to touch a nerve." "You didn't." She pats you on the back, pulling you a little closer. "Some people…they do. There's this morbid curiosity I can't stand. Like I'm a slab of meat they are trying to find fault with. But you, ma cherie, you…" This time she looks you straight in the eye. "I what?" You are the one turning away your gaze this time. "I get the feeling you understand." "Maybe I do." You can't hide your sigh because you do. Not in a way you can explain to her, but you do. "I wasn't sure at first. You look rather…comfortable with yourself for…" She doesn't say it out loud, but you know what she implies. Juno comes across as so confident, it must be hard for someone else to imagine how much of a mess you are. "I'm good at keeping up appearances," you say, and it's not even much of a lie. Layer the masks thick enough, and they become armor. <- sura's motto right here

"You are," Dr. Mortum admits, but she keeps looking at you with the faintest of frowns. "A little too much for your own good, I think." "No, I like being inscrutable." You slide from her grip, giving her a pat on her shoulder. "Roll over. You're looking at me too much." "Even to me, ma cherie?" But she follows your command, rolling over on her stomach. "Do you still need to hide who you really are around here?" "Yes." You slide on top of her, starting to massage her shoulders. A little rougher than you need to, but she deserves it. "You don't have to," she gently suggests. "I don't judge." "That's what everybody says." You lean into your hands, finding a particularly tense muscle. "Right before they judge you." "I can understand your paranoia, but…" "If you do, then drop this subject, and I'll think about it." That's a lie, but she doesn't need to know that. Your mask is the only thing keeping you safe, no matter how much she claims she would understand. Agh. How did you end up getting caught in another anxiety loop brought on by your own damnable curiosity?

i just. [clenches fist]

also the post-confession stuff! since sura gets stuck in juno (puppetcrash + puppetstuck) i love that mortum even as justifiably upset as she is still cares enough to rescue puppetstuck sura after they'd assumed all bridges between them had been burned (outside scar w/ a lot of self loathing and a self-destructive streak whoops). it's so messy and complicated and i just love them being able to pick through the mess and slowly progress forward (with a lot of apologies, effort and reconcilliation on sura's part). they're not good people but they can still find solace in eachother.

(i think sura's probably headed for a bad ending but mortum might be able to change the trajectory with a bit of luck)

also mortum's audhd and sura's autism ! neurodivergent couple :3 i love that mortum's always checking for consent and how much she cares.

also!!! mortum and sura being the hottest villain powercouple on the west coast is very hot. im thinking about coordinated costumes for annual halloween villain galas and just massively ruthless competence. they can cover eachothers blindspots since mortum's the tech person and sura's got the contacts and the charisma as argos.

sura's down just. horrendously bad for the good doctor. i've likened them to an aloof/hissy housecat with everyone else but a very affectionate lapcat with Only mortum. i'm picturing all kinds of silly domesticity in the lab. in a good end au sura gets its cat back from elena's place and the three live together :'3

[lord-squiggletits]

For your MegOP conundrum:

What are your thoughts on MegOP romance in forced truce situations eg. Quintessons attack, or everyone on the battle feild was taken by slavers type thing. Do your thoughts vary on continuity TFA vs Prime vs IDW, etc?

Hope this helps

Bookwyrm

I think Forced Truce as a trope is probably one of the easiest/most convenient ways to create an alliance/eventual reconciliation between the factions without just sidestepping the issue altogether. I think it's especially cool to have there be a temporary truce BUT the issues between the factions are still messing up communication, causing trust issues that make units work together less cohesively, etc. It's really great because it forces the factions/Megatron and Optimus to work together, EXCEPT if they fail to cooperate, it doesn't just mean a continuation of an endless, tedious war, but it could spell out the end of their species altogether. There's a ton of stakes inherent to it; if we're talking MegOP romance, then what's at stake isn't just the emotional pain of their bad relationship/breaking up because they can't make it work, but the physical consequences of them failing to defeat a greater foe. It lends the romance/truce particularly heavy symbolism-- that this temporary truce isn't merely a convenience, the blooming love isn't merely an emotion, but that both of these things could be the key to life itself. And I'm always a big sucker for that kind of theme where reconciliation/hope/cooperation/etc save the day.

I can really only comment on IDW since that's my bread and butter, but it's an interesting discussion because there's actually at least three times where Megatron and Optimus (and their factions by extension) did a forced truce where, obviously, it wasn't enough for them to reconcile afterwards:

Autocracy: Orion and Megatron team up to beat Zeta, ends with Megatron shooting Orion and the Autobots being imprisoned

Stormbringer: Mostly kept off screen, but the Bots and Cons have to keep up to try and defeat Thunderwing(?), who's basically a walking natural disaster created by all the environmental devastation of the war

Dark Cybertron: Teaming up to stop Shockwave from putting the whole universe in a singularity. Famously the series where Megatron became an Autobot. Has a really underrated/never talked about scene where Megatron and Optimus actually speak together in a quiet moment before going out to face everyone (and presumably Megatron is taken into custody in preparation for the trial).

Stormbringer is actually the most interesting one to me, because I love it when TF stories in general explore the environmental devastation of the war. I love it when Megatron and Optimus are punished for their war by the very planet dying, or in this case, creating a monster that both of them combined can barely stop. They disagreed on whether to basically bomb the whole planet to ash to stop Thunderwing (Megatron) or to keep the planet intact and hope to beat him some other way (Optimus), which I think if it were the focus of a story, is a really interesting example of what I mentioned above where differences in faction/philosophy don't vanish simply because they're temporarily working together.

One of the biggest reasons I love MegOP is because the two faction leaders are kind of like the King Arthur of their respective factions: whatever befalls the commander/king is a reflection of what happens to his army. So forced truce + unresolved tension (political, personal, romantic) is fucking fantastic because it means that whatever Megatron and Optimus do trying to deal with each other could fuck over their factions as well. And I really like the idea of MegOP struggling together in a relationship NOT because of personal differences or even emotional issues, but because they have some sort of obligation to their factions (fulfilling their goals, bringing their idea of justice) that means that coming together romantically would be betraying their factions.

Sorry for the rambling answer; hoped this had at least a few interesting ideas in it!

[superfluouskeys]

i know you're probably not into maleficent/aurora anymore, but since you were like THE malora writer, i'm curious in what do you think would happen to maleficent when aurora dies? either from natural causes like old age or somethiing terrible happened

My friend, this is so kind of you to say!! This is also, unfortunately, MY JAM LOL

So in my personal interpretation, I think once Aurora became more sure of herself and the relationship, she would learn (passively, not even really thinking of it as such) to de-fuse Maleficent a lot of the time. Maleficent is naturally temperamental and always about 3 bad steps away from starting a fight. Once Aurora learns that this is just sort of how she is and she isn't actually mad, and doesn't even usually mean anything by it, Aurora learns to just kind of skillfully sidestep like 99% of Maleficent's bad moods. As a result, because she isn't being fought at every turn, Maleficent (also without realizing it) calms down a LOT, and tends to stop seeing everything as a challenge or threat, even from ppl who are not Aurora. This mostly just freaks ppl out, because you know she always seems super calm until she is suddenly Not LOL, and the average person does not know how to tell Maleficent's "actually calm" from her "quietly seething."

Additionally, while I believe that Maleficent operates on her own code of ethics and doesn't just do whatever, I also think her ethics and what she considers "wrong" differ significantly from where the average human would draw the line. As she grows more comfortable in her relationship with Aurora, I think she would be surprisingly willing to draw lines where Aurora wants her to, at least most of the time, because in her mind, e.g. not harassing someone who mildly annoyed her is important to Aurora, while it's not that important to Maleficent.

However, I think both of these changes, no matter how long Aurora lives, are utterly temporary. Once Aurora is gone, Maleficent will go back to the way she was before, if not ultimately worse, because in a sense kindness will remind her of Aurora, and I don't think she will ever reach a place where that is a good thing for her.

I think Maleficent's first reaction would be a kind of desperate fury, sort of like a wounded wild animal but with very powerful magic. She would be absolutely terrorizing the countryside, especially anyone she perceived to be responsible. It's almost worse if Aurora dies of old age, because then the fault in her mind would lie with...everything, the nature of life itself. This phase could last forever, depending on other factors, and I think it would be a very long time before Maleficent is even slightly functional again.

Even in eg. Prisoner-verse where Maleficent has other friends, I can see her getting into terrible fights with almost all of them. Girl can be next-level vicious when she wants to be, and even if her friends have known grief, most of them don't know exactly what she's going through, and therefore from Maleficent's perspective are not in a position to comment. Also I think "Aurora wouldn't want you to live like this" or similar would be like, the worst possible thing you could say to her, and might send her spiraling into a murderous rage all over again, because how DARE you presume to tell her what Aurora would want?

I am really a sucker for these kinds of villain backstories LOL, you can play me the same tune over and over and I will never get tired of it. I think the only kind of person who could reach Maleficent would be someone who's sort of similar to Aurora, at least in unfailing kindness. I'm imagining someone just trying to save her village or w/e from being razed to the ground showing sympathy to Maleficent for her lost love, and Maleficent showing just the smallest amount of mercy in memory of Aurora, even if ultimately she hasn't changed or healed at all. (oh my godddddd don't look at me I want to write this now lol)

So anyway, it was 5:30 in the morning, a very normal time to be awake, and I was thinking, well, would anyone in Prisoner-verse be able to calm her down at all? I think she and Kinsale would absolutely get into a really bad fight, and Zenovia would try to be chill about it but she would also pretty quickly be like okay well talk to me when you've calmed down lol. And then I realized............

--

“Hey.”

Maleficent doesn’t move.  She doesn’t know how long she’s been sitting here.  Odd, that she doesn’t feel a fresh wave of fury at Joy’s presence.  Then again, perhaps she is simply too tired to feel much of anything.

“I’m not going to say anything.”  Joy holds out her hands in a show of defense.

Maleficent inhales, sighs.  Her throat is burning.  She only distantly remembers the sound of screaming, and realizes now that the memory was of her own voice.

“Good,” says Maleficent.  Joy of all people should know that there is nothing to say.

A long silence follows.  Joy joins her on the floor some distance away, and pretends to train her gaze upon the fire.

“I do have one question, actually,” says Maleficent.

“Hm?”

Maleficent closes her eyes.  She tries to imagine Joy the way she looked in pictures, with long, beautiful hair that she wore in intricate curls, and a radiant smile full of youthful mischief.  “How did you…not…”

But words fail her.  She holds out her hand, grasping at nothing.

“What,” says Joy, “burn down the world?”

Maleficent sighs again.  It is as apt a question as any.

“Well, it was perhaps to my benefit that I am not nearly so powerful as you, Mistress Maleficent,” says Joy, although her characteristic attempt at wryness comes out remarkably strained.  “I wouldn’t have gotten very far.”

Maleficent opens her eyes.  The flames of the fire flicker and dance, enticing in their destruction.  “I’m not sure I would have cared.”

Joy chuckles, dry and mirthless.  “Yes, well,” she says.  She does not continue.

Outside, a terrible wind howls, desperate and mournful.  The windows rattle and the fire flickers low, casting them both in dramatic shadow.

Maleficent inhales.  She closes her eyes again.  “Does it ever…?” 

The words catch in her throat.  She already knows the answer.

“No,” says Joy quietly.  A long silence follows.  The embers from the fire crackle meekly, and the mournful wind falls deadly silent.

“But…I don’t know.  You find…other reasons.  To, you know…”  She waves her hand vaguely at the fire, and stokes it back to life.

Maleficent shakes her head.  Reasons?  The word feels foreign, meaningless.  “I don’t know that I ever had a reason for anything, before…”

Before her, she means to say, but she cannot.  There was always a before her, yes, but now there is an after her.  Everything from now on is after her, without her, and the mere idea of it is something akin to drowning, or perhaps slowly suffocating, deep underground, with the weight of the earth sinking down upon her chest.  What did she do before?  How did she live?  However is she to live now, knowing what she has lost?

“Yeah,” says Joy simply.

Maleficent doesn’t know how long they sit together in silence after that.  It hardly matters.

--

ANYWAY THANK YOU ANONYMOUS FRIEND I HAD FUN LOL

[invested-in-your-future]

They had to take a breather to develop characters. Hard to do with Salem's threat looming over them.

Plenty of fictional works manage to cram good ol' character development in even the most tense of the situations.

Honestly its rare to even find a fictional fantasy or contemporary world where some threat isn't looming over characters or the world isn't ending. How would character development happen then if the characters are running out of time against unbeatable threat?

By realizing that narrative progression =/= time passage.

The cool thing about fictional stories and overall fiction, is that passage of time is completely up to the control of the writer.

A character can reflect on a lifetime of achievements in split second. An entire book can take place during the exact same single hour but from different perspectives.

And again, RWBY knows this. Half the V3 transpires in literally less than a day. The whole finale takes up barely few hours. Even in the bad volumes the narrative uses the convenience of skipping ahead quite often to "get past" writing specific bits of story or to not have to deal with things.

The show already avoided dealing with so many issues, both outwardly between characters and inward, that its all boiling over. It doesn't take a filler padding dimension to actually have characters interact or emote or actually self-reflect or to make all those Chekov's guns go off.

The fact that they genuinely thought "we need to take the characters LITERALLY OUT OF THE PLOT so we can deal with this "character stuff"" is damning for writers. Like it's literally treating CHARACTERIZATION OF YOUR LEAD CAST as nothing but a sidequest.

And as for them doing this to develop characters...

But. They. Haven't????

Like AT ALL?

V9 does touch upon on some of surface-level issues, but also avoids like majority of core issues the show has never dealt with.

It starts by establishing few SHOCKING facts

"Ruby is Traumatized" - well gee, who would have known, its not like that's literally been obvious since V3. Does she reflect on Penny? LOL. On her worldview kind of falling apart? LOL. On the nature of her relationship with her team and how all of them have changed as people? NOPE ITS ALL FINE YOU ARE FLAWLESS BBY, TRAUMA AIN'T REAL. YOU DON'T ACTUALLY HAVE TO DEAL WITH IT AT ALL.

"Blake and Yang have unresolved issues" - Yes. Again. V3. Final Scene. They have issues they have never really spoken about. Issues that were set up but then got no progression as the characters just stood around. And guess what? They don't in this volume either. The show just sidesteps it. Because the personal character issues ARE STILL IGNORED - Has Yang dealt with her aimlessness and identity search and actually processed her trauma, her conflicting feelings about her overall role, her mother, her sister and everything else that has literally piled up for years? NOPE. Has Blake actually dealt with the moral conundrum she was living? Has she figured out what exactly she wants to do? NOPE. Have they both faced abandonment issues they have? LOL.

"Jaune feels bad" - well gee, that's a new one. Its not like ~70% of the show's screentime is telling us this for some reason rather than focusing on actual lead cast. Its okay, any consequences he managed to somehow get will be undone by MAGIC.

And beyond that? Weiss? PFFT. Penny's unfortunate fridging? PFFFFFT. The actual progression of characters being the focus? PFFT. Here's bunch of new absolutely nonsensical lore that completely breaks suspension of disbelief instead. How do you like talking animals in goofy alternate dimensions run by a tree?

Its like whoever wrote this took cursory glance at like Volume 1 character moments and went "this will do"...and then the lore about magic tree gods was vomited all over the result

If anything V9 tells us they won't Develop characters.

Let me sum up what V9, intentionally or unintentionally, says:

"Self Reflection is bad. Having flaws is BAD. Good People don't have flaws nor have to deal with psychological trauma nor have to question the morality of their actions or nature of their world. A mean evil being whispering on your shoulder is all that psychological trauma is and as long as you just reaffirm that nothing you did ever affects you or defines you it will all go away, especially if you have magic god tree available to plot device you. Whatever good or bad decisions you made don't matter. People enabling your behavior, flaws and escapism is what it means to be a good friend. Even passage of time and losing years meaninglessly doesn't really affect you or change you because you are not allowed to change and will go back to normal via a plot device. Acceptance and understanding of one's emotions, thought patterns and problems, one of fundamental elements of therapy (or really any sort of healing) is BAD. You don't need coping mechanisms of any sort if you ignore issues being there! Actually exploring your relationships with others and any sorts of issues and trauma there is BAD and you should just pretend its all fine between you all. Even facing your trauma is BAD - you need to avert your eyes, listen to the voices telling you you are flawless and move on. After all there's Absolute Unchanging Truth of Right and Wrong. There's absolute definitive way to view the world and yourself. There's only the True Way To Be Yourself and the rest is Lies. Whatever trauma or issues you have stems from LIES. Who needs self awareness? Who needs change? Who needs any sort of progress if an unchanging(literally) Divine Higher Will can just tell you what you are supposed to do with your life next?

All of that stuff about facing your trauma, picking yourself back up and the necessity to keep moving forward because nobody else will do that for you and you need to persevere through hardships(You know the specific thing Monty Oum wanted to focus on)? Who needs that when Greater Divine Beings Tell Your Perfect Flawless Existences What To Do and you don't ever need to change or grow as people or face your trauma and issues"

The purpose of entire V9, the purpose of the Volume upon which the very fate of RWBY franchise's continued existence hinges is all about telling you that NOTHING IN THE SHOW MATTERS and characters won't ever change or develop and will remain exactly the same till the day they achieve their Purpose.

Its yet another volume that literally doesn't matter. Just like majority of the show past V3. Just pretending the lead characters figured out their issues offscreen is better than what V9 gives us.

[pyropsychiccollector]

Natsu Harem: Fairy GET! 9/14

We're reaching the tail end of the pack~... Let's put in some hustle. (๑╹ω╹๑ )

The next spotlight goes to... Yes~... The other half of the Sky Maiden Sisters~... Wendy Marvell~! \(๑╹ω╹๑ )/

When did they meet?

This one is pretty standard... I don't have to mess around with it too much. Natsu met Wendy during the fateful mission to crush Oracion Seis. The guild that took care of her, Cait Shelter, regrettably had to pass on... They couldn't keep watching over her forever. But this left Wendy-chan open to join Fairy Tail... And they became her new family. Wendy-chan particularly drew close to Team Natsu because of their first meeting. (❋•‿•❋)

There isn't that much to elaborate on, as far as first meetings and whatnot go. Wendy saw that Fairy Tail was pretty powerful, if not prone to going overboard. A bit much for her mild-mannered self... But they proved dependable. They fought to protect Cait Shelter... And Natsu kept his promise~... (❋•‿•❋) It's little wonder she jumped at Erza's proposal to join Fairy Tail... Cait Shelter moving onto the afterlife made her sad, but Wendy resolved to carry on. And it's gratifying to find another Dragon Slayer in Natsu. (人◕ω◕)

When did they get closer?

Fairly obvious, but Wendy adapted to her new guild pretty quickly. Everyone adored her for being so cute, gentle, and kind. (人◕ω◕) Wendy wasn't much of a fighter herself, though. She knew some offensive-type spells, but she was mainly a healer and an enchantment wielder, which effectively relegated her to support type in battles.

... And she was pretty joined to Natsu at the hip. (人◕ω◕) I mean, why wouldn't she? They're both Dragon Slayers. Wind and Fire complement each other. Happy and Carla get along... sorta... *let's just sidestep Happy's repeated flirty attempts that Carla shot down~...* (人◕ω◕);;

Honestly? Wendy sees Natsu as a big brother figure. That defines the nature of their relationship for much of the time they're fighting Dark Guilds and kicking butt in the Grand Magic Games. She'll occasionally help alleviate his motion sickness, but repeated use of her Troia spell makes it less effective... And besides, eventually Wendy comes down with the same dumb illness. Wendy-chan really doesn't like transportation, just like Natsu-nii. (人◕ω◕)

When Fairy Tail disbanded after Tartaros, Wendy was left crestfallen, her home once more torn away from her... That brought her to Lamia Scale, to be with Chelia for a year... And then Natsu came back, even though she was pretty determined to stay with Chelia. (人◕ω◕) We know how that turned out, though~...

When did friendship turn to something more?

This is the million dollar question. (人◕ω◕);;; See, up through Alvarez... Wendy was focused on this idea of Natsu being her big brother. That's why she came to love and adore him so much. (人◕ω◕)

... But as time went on, Natsu became much more... popular. Cana-san. Kagura-san. Yukino-san. Natsu-nii even won over Juvia's heart...! And not to mention former enemies like Brandish-san, Sayla-san, and... others. *spoilers* (人◕ω◕) This doesn't even cover Lisanna, who's been close to Natsu for ages - same with Erza-nee and Mira-san... It was getting harder and harder to spend time with Natsu, and Wendy couldn't quite figure out why a part of her was frustrated and... furious.

And then one day, a while after the war with Alvarez, Chelia asks Natsu out. (人◕ω◕);;;;;;;; That was definitely the proverbial final nail in the coffin. Chelia's a few years younger than Natsu, who's about the same age as Erza. He's 20, Chelia's 16. ... Wendy is 13. Wendy should be older (even if that placed Natsu-nii even older, too), but because of Fairy Sphere shenanigans... Put simply, Wendy got shafted. Hard. (人◕ω◕);;; It's bad enough she has to be around big boobs so often... But for all these well-endowed women to be eating up all of Natsu-nii's time and affection...?

Wendy thought long and hard on it. While other girls gave their vetoes to Chelia's request for a date with Natsu-nii, and her beloved Natsu-nii agreed to go out with Chelia, Wendy stewed in her corner and mulled over why she was so miffed. It's not like she didn't want Natsu-nii to be happy. Or Chelia. (人◕ω◕);;; Wendy just... She was tired of getting sidelined by all these other women that weren't even Dragon Slayers!! ... Erza-nee is debatable given her mum, but really. Every single one of these "love interests" for niisan didn't have that pedigree that Wendy thought she had.

... Carla told her she was going a bit loopy from thinking too hard, but Wendy knew she wasn't crazy. Where was her Natsu-nii time?! It's not fair!!! (人◕ω◕);;;

So Wendy came to the conclusion that, at some point, she'd fallen for Natsu. ... And she had. She just didn't want to admit it because of the... age gap between them. Seven years apart was pushing it. But can you blame the poor girl? Natsu was her most important person, besides Erza-nee and Carla. And all these hussies... *cough* All these other women eating up Natsu's time and energy... (人◕ω◕);;;

But this is fine. Wendy is... fine. (人◕ω◕);;;;;;;;; While she doesn't have... much... of a problem with her petite size, the issue for Wendy-chan is closing that age gap juuust a little bit. (人◕ω◕);;;;;;; And since she specializes in Enchantments, Wendy researches long and hard... And finally invents a spell to age her up. ... But just aging up to Natsu-nii and Erza-nee's age feels like cheating. So Wendy does the "honorable" thing and makes herself on even footing with Chelia. That tramp... Er. Her bestest friend in the whole wide world. (人◕ω◕);;; Wendy ages herself up to somewhere between 16 and 17. Why? Because screw you, Wendy-chan deserves this after Fairy Sphere robbed her. That's her line, and she's sticking to it. (人◕ω◕);;;;;;;;;; Now, while she gets a little taller, she's still about Chelia's height. ... But regrettably not as well-endowed. Because of course her genes hate her. (人◕ω◕);; Her spell made her age naturally, so she had no say in how curvy she was.

Of course everyone noted what Wendy did to herself... And how she practically pounced on Natsu and showed the depths of her love for him with a passionate kiss.... (人◕ω◕);;; Wendy-chan would love to ask Natsu out, but for right now this is all the courage she possesses. She's not as brave or confident as Chelia. ... Or Erza. Or... (人◕ω◕) You get the idea. Wendy doesn't ask him out, but she stumbles over a very nervous confession to Natsu...

... Which Natsu rolls with. Wendy's pretty important to him, and she looks pretty cute regardless of age. But it's certainly less weird if she's as old as Chelia. (人◕ω◕) The other members of the harem are... leery of Wendy coming forward so boldly, but it's not like she had much choice. Not with territorial Sayla, bossy Brandish, clingy Juvia, determined Kagura... Wendy might have blindsided them all, but you better believe they won't lose to her. Natsu belongs to everyone~... (人◕ω◕)(人◕ω◕)(人◕ω◕) At least Chelia-chan is pretty accepting of Wendy's advances on Natsu. Their bond is still strong.

Although that bond of theirs does nudge other members of the harem to find tentative partners... Assuming they don't already have one. (人◕ω◕) Cuz with Wendy and Chelia teaming up to hog time with Natsu... Measures must be taken to ensure the scales stay even. ... Or else. (人◕ω◕)(人◕ω◕)(人◕ω◕)(人◕ω◕)(人◕ω◕)

[skaruresonic]

no matter how I look at it Sage just isn't a good addition and making her Eggman's "daughter" is legitimately unnecessary. She should have just been "yet another eggman creation" but they wanted be oh so deep and complex by making eggman show affection for his artificial child or whatever

Yeah, pretty much. When Woodchipp and I watched an LP of Frontiers, we were left scratching our heads over her utility and function as a character, as well as why Eggman lets her get away with stuff that he wouldn't let slide with other creations of his.

Sage presumes to know better than he does, and while he does huff and puff about it, he doesn't get genuinely angry as he otherwise would. She also fucks up pretty frequently, begging questions of why Eggman puts up with her failures and backtalking.

It doesn't help that a lot of the development behind their relationship occurs offscreen, in the presumed gaps between cutscenes.

Sage rescues Eggman from some hazards of Cyberspace, according to an Egg Memo. Then tells him a joke in another. And it's like gee I really wish we could see all of this happening instead of merely being told about it. As it stands, it's like the game is going "just trust me on this one dude"

Their dynamic is too half-baked to be taken either seriously or ironically, putting it in this weird gray area where it's simultaneously both and neither: hence the dissonance that leads a lot of people to crack up laughing during the NANANAAAA scene.

Even if you assume the perspective that the game was supposed to depict a dysfunctional relationship between Sage and Eggman, then that begs further questions of why ST would choose to do things in such a way that the dysfunction could be confused for the genuine article. Sonic games don't really play 4D chess with subtext like that.

The "JP!Eggman treats Sage differently than US!Eggman does" angle has been debated to death. The truth is I really don't care one way or the other because the end result remains the same no matter which version we go with.

Even if JP!Eggman did nothing but dropkick Sage off a cliff for the entirety of the game (highly doubt it), clearly it wasn't enough to deter notions of Sage becoming a permanent fixture in his retinue. Being a bad parent is still being a parent, despite what the "but Bowser can be a villain and a dad" crowd will tell you. That's sidestepping the point that the mere concept of parenthood, period, just doesn't gel with Eggman's lone wolf nature.