#and i love them both. but joining up those backstories now

[tokoyamisstuff]

omg I definetly need more about the Invincible variants if you may!!

Second Chance At Love Pt. 2

After -> this <- silly lil' adorable idea by @rainydaygotham (but I made Reader a civilian instead).

Variant! Invincible x gn! Reader

Warnings: stockholm-syndrome, mentions of death, angst, (fabricated) tragic backstory, canon divergence, not proofread

A/N: whew, I never imagined you people would enjoy it this much. thanks for all the feedback, it really means the world to me! 💌🐞

"Our satellites found the missing variant, Sir."

"And what?" Cecil unintentionally stared daggers towards Donald, probably due to the stress and the fact that both of them had given their everything those past 32 hours. "Spit it out, damn it!"

Even through the reflection of his glasses Donald's mannerism were an open book for the head of the GDA, and right now he acted like he always did when he was unsure how to deliver troublesome information to his boss.

But this time it wasn't particulary bad news that made him hesistant, but the sheer absurdity of the situation.

"He-he is...with an old friend of our Mark, and...currently not attacking anyone."

The elder man rubbed his temples, lack of sleep being a steady companion in this profession but damn his advancing age sure made it harder to function properly.

"I want him on screen immediately!" he commanded harshly, voice not even slightly hinting the extent of his exhaustion.

This one apparently is more clever than the original Mark if he was able to slip past their organization's surveilance, Cecil concluded as the spitting image of his involuntary ally popped up on the monitor.

The young Viltrumite perfectly blended in with the crowd, sitting in a tiny suburban cafè far away from all the chaos. On the opposite end of the coffee table were you - not an unknown face to the GDA solely because of your affiliation with the world's strongest hero.

Cecil worked his jaw in irritation at the unfitting piece to this mess of a puzzle he was expected to solve. No way one of them came here merely to catch up with an old acquaintace...

...and yet for now, there were more urgent matters that he was needed to tend to first.

"Keep an eye on them and report shall he do anything out of the ordinary." As if this right now wasn't enough. "As long as he's preoccupied we have one less monster to worry about...for now."

Meanwhile you were sitting in front of your still untouched drink, watching your reflection on the liquid surface.

There was a radio running in the background, almost constantly updating you about how the other variants were still wreaking havoc everywhere, laying waste to the world as you knew it while you were trapped here acting as if it's a normal fucking tuesday.

You really shouldnt't be playing all domestic with a man that's just as much of a villain as his alternate selves currently on the run, and yet you keep reminding yourself that the only reason you're still alive is the uncertain benevolence of that very same person.

Trying to convince him to see the error of his ways or maybe even switch sides was out of the question - this Mark, just as the other sociopaths you saw in the news, has totally lost it a long time ago. You should be glad that he currently entertains himself with this little obsession of his, but that's no guarantee he couldn't snap and reduce you to a bloodied pulp any time.

And still, even though you have no other choice, it felt so terribly wrong to have a date - that felt more like a hostage situation - during an international emergency of apocalyptic scale.

Starting to feel sick as reality of your predicament dawned on you once again, you shoved the cup to aside, bracing yourself to interact with your kidnapper that hasn't initiated anything by himself until now.

Invincible on the other hand had destroyed Levi's orb long before finding you, never having disclosed his true intentions of joining this war. Also, with all the damage he's done the other 19 versions of himself would be sufficient, surely their 'boss' wouldn't care if one went astray from the plan. Not that he ever trusted Angstrom to not stab him in the back at some point, so who cares.

Back in the day you always had some spare clothes for this world's Mark in your room, in case he needed them - which was frankly quite often as they tend to get either torn or bloody from spontaneous fights. Maybe it was the sentimental value that made you keep them long after your friendship had ended, but right now they came in handy.

The other Mark nervously picks and tugs on the fabric, not used to wear civilian clothing after what felt like an eternity. It made him feel incredibly vulnerable to present himself this way. For years his costume had served as a barrier between himself and humanity, a symbol that the person he once was had long since ceased to exist so his Viltrumite side could rise.

Still, those familiar clothes, especially since given to him by you of all people, offered a strange comfort all the same.

At least he looked remotely normal like this, but god this man can be awkward at times. Some things really never change, even across different dimensions. Right now he was a perfect picture of misery, looking at you expectantly like a lost puppy that had just been kicked. Almost adorable, if you shun out the circumstances.

An uninvolved stranger would never believe that this is the villain who reduced entire cities to ashes just a few hours ago.

"So" you finally dare speaking up, casually leaning back in your seat as you take a sip of your already ice cold drink."I take it you're not a Seance Dog fan anymore?"

Noticing the bright logo on his shirt, Invincible actually managed to crack a smile - that trademark lopsided smirk of his that seemed more like a snarl now that you saw it after all this time. "Oh, you'd be shocked: The author is actually one of the few people I deliberately kept alive."

He's right, you are shocked not only with the answer, but the delivery as well. Suddenly you regret having pried in the first place. "Just a joke" he adds as soon as he sees the slightest shift of your expression, clutching the edge of the tabletop in frustration until it left a dent of his handprint.

You don't want to laugh. This isn't even remotely funny, and his reaction was awfully concerning as well. And yet you force yourself to snort, nails digging into your palm in an attempt to keep up the facade. "Glad to know you're as much of a weirdo as the original one."

It amazed yourself how calm and collected you could act, despite being as terrified of him as in the very beginning. Maybe you got used to the feeling already, or you had discovered a hidden talent of working well under pressure. May apply for a job at the GDA if you're ever alive and free again.

For the remaining duration of this afternoon, the two of you exchanged trivial stories about the past with your respective counterparts, many of whom were shared experiences. And as much as you tried to deny it, deep down you were aware you enjoyed this conversation more than you should.

There were only mild differences between your two dimensions as it seemed - at least when it came to your friendship, that was.

Invincible was pretty secretive about anything else really, but judging from the bits he threw in between you deduced he got his abilities way earlier than your Mark, which caused his father to never lose track of his original goal.

Occasionally Mark would state contradictionary opinions and you were sure most of it was just him mindlessly repeating the indoctrination his father had hammered into his head through inhumane methods.

You can only imagine what it meant for a gentle, sensitive soul like Mark to be subjected to a Viltrumite upbringing.

The sun was already starting to set when you were scooped up once again, however this time around you weren't afraid of the height in the slightest. You felt his chin resting atop of your head as he carried you through the sky, holding you firmly but carefully like you were a precious porcellain doll - and compared to his strenght you might as well be.

Yet all you could think of was the beauty of the twilight sky, and how oddly content you felt at that very moment.

Your date had promised to bring you to a secret location with a breathtaking view, and he really did not disappoint. It was in the midst of nature, absent of any human intervention. Just the two of you, surrounded by the sounds of the earth and the sight of the most horrible day in history of mankind slowly coming to an end.

Invincible spread his jacket out for you to sit on, and you secretly appreciated the gesture. A murderer, but also a gentleman, you mentally noted. Ironic. He slumped down on the damp grass an appropriate distance away from you, subconsciously starting to rip out some leaves.

You lean your head against his shoulder and he freezes in his tracks at the unexpected display of affection - or at least he hopes it's the absence of fear. For a long while you remain like this, admiring the view and each other's closeness, until you disturb the comfortable silence.

"How did you..." You hesitated for a moment, but then you met his eyes, so completely and utterly filled with genuine affection that caused something to blossom beneath your ribcage which you didn't want to acknowledge.

Even though you were still wary of him, it was hard to stay objective in the proximity of a literal carbon copy of the love of your life in nearly every single way.

"...how did you become like this?"

There was a long pause between your question and his answer.

"I got my powers shortly before my 13th birthday..." In hindsight, after having met the other variants who got them even earlier, it could've been worse. At least he was granted a few good years. "...and from then on, everything suddenly changed. My mom had an 'accident', so my dad was left to raise me on his own. It was-"

Mark's voice cracked, eyes glossed with unshed tears he was long since taught to repress as they were a sign of weakness. "The only times I felt truly happy was when I sneaked out to see you...I think for a long time those visits were what kept me sane. But nothing went past him..."

He balled a fist in the fabric over his sternum, and there was so much agony in his tone that it made your own heart clench painfully. "Dad- no, he's not a father. Never was. Anyways, Nolan tolerated it for a while, thinking I'd outgrow this sentiment and understand humans are beneath us. But when I turned 18..."

A tidal wave of shame and guilt washed over him, making him unable to bear looking at you as he continued his story. "He made me watch...I should've done something, I should've defended you, but...I was so scared of him. I just stood there when he snapped your neck."

The disclosure of the other's fate ultimately caused the panic attack that was seething inside of you ever since your first encounter with this variant to finally unravel. You frantically tug on your collar as you began to hyperventillate, feeling as if it was actually your neck that was being assaulted.

"Don't worry, I took care of it..." Invincible still had his face buried in his hands, and there was an eerie coldness in the following statement. "It took me a while, but I got stronger just to avenge you...ripped his sorry excuse of a heart right out of his fucking chest."

That's hardly a solace for either of you, isn't it.

Mark looks down at his palms as vivid images of his past crimes creep up on his mind, accompanied by a neurotic laughter that could only be described as absolutely broken...

...until you cup his hands with yours, the gesture conveying emotions you would never be able to put into words.

"Everything felt so pointless after you were gone..." he snivels, not resisting as you couldn't help but tug his head towards your lap. "You have no idea what emptiness you left behind...at some point I started doing unspeakable things just in order to feel something, anything to distract myself from the grief..."

You hum in between choked sobs, weeping for this lost soul as you rake your fingers through his hair, listening to him repeat countless apologies. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry...I should've just flown into the sun...I should've been stronger, better...I didn't want to become cruel...I wanted to be good...for you..."

What were you even doing here? Have you lost your mind?! Snap out of it, this is insane!

"Shh...it's enough. Stop tormenting yourself." No. He deserves far worse. Victim of circumstance or not, this man is beyond saving.

"Accompany me to my homeworld. Let me indulge you the way you deserve. Never leave me again" was what he desperately wanted to say, but instead he gulped harshly around the lump forming in his throat before announcing "I'll take you back home soon...phase one of Angstrom's plan is over, the variants will leave and you're safe again."

"Huh? I thought-"

"Drop the performance" he ordered as he fought to regain his composure. "You can speak freely. I meant what I said, I won't hurt you. Even if you hate me, even if you hurl all kinds of insults and accusations at me...I can take it. I'm just grateful for today. I'll cherish this memory forever."

Yes. This was more than he could possibly ask for. He already destroyed the life of your counterpart in his world, it's not fair of him to do the same to someone so precious twice.

Mark doesn't care what happens to him from now on, because thanks to you he was able to make peace with what happened.

"Come." He jolts up as he wipes his tear-stained cheeks clean, not biding you another look as he fears that otherwise he won't be able to pull through with his good intentions. "It's getting cold, we should-"

"No!"

Out of a whim you tackle hug the Viltrumite, who is caught off guard enough to stagger and fall. You softly punch against his chest and he allows you to let it all out, though he has no idea what you're on about.

"You-you're not like those other variants of Mark...please..." Your bottom lip is trembling as you speak, voice wavering with an emotion you couldn't quite decipher yourself. "Don't leave. If you have nothing to live for in your timeline, then...just stay in this one."

"And then what? Go to the Pentagon and say 'hi, I'm one of the Invincibles that ruined simply everything, but now I'd like to stay here'? They'll never believe that I don't have an ulterior motive!"

"So what? It's not like they can contain or even scratch you. And even if they could, I-I'll make sure to visit you every day!" You giggle like an infatuated teenager as you add that last sentence, and even a maniac like him realizes you must've lost your mind.

God, this is all his fault...

"What are you even talking about?" he almost yells, now on top of you and softly grabbing your shoulders to shake you ever so slightly. "Why are you trying to convince me? That can't seriously be what you want!"

"I-I...don't know." You're staring straight at him now, a stubborn determination in your eyes that almost frightens this unstoppable man. Wrapping your arms around his neck to make your foreheads touch, you whisper "All I'm sure of is that you didn't deserve any of this, and maybe...shit, just give us some time to figure it out, would you?"

Mark's hands were hovering over your body, giving it his best to hold back yet it was a lost battle before it even started. He utters vile curses under his breath before finally crushing you flush against his body, lips brushing against yours as if to ask for permission. You're quick to take the initiative, tossing all reason overboard as you give in to this all-consuming madness some might call hope...

...but just when you were about to pull him in for a long overdue kiss, the man that was straddling your waist mere seconds ago had disappeared in the blink of an eye.

The soundwave reached your ears much later than the actual impact, and much to your shock, when you saw not one but two Invincibles - yours having been knocked into a nearby rock formation - you immediately understood what it meant.

"Mark, wait!" you screamed, but your plea went on deaf ears.

After everything your world's Invincible had to endure those past few days, he wasn't even slightly in an amenable constitution. The only thing he was able to feel at this moment was rage, and he needed to direct it to something or otherwise he'd burst.

Sadly the next best target of his fury was the variant right in front of him - a man who not only attacked his homeplanet, but tried to violate someone he once held dear.

Mark will make him pay for trying to harm you.

"C'mon, stand up. Right now all I want to do is hit something...as hard as I can."

[Next Part]

[whowrotethenote]

Write a cm punk x reader x Roman smut but they’re basically Paul Heyman in the situation

Disclaimer // Main Masterlist // Roman Reigns Masterlist // Join My Taglist

A/N // Thank you to the anon for that creative ass request. @novamystxcxox sent me something similar, but I had already started this💗 Hope you both like it!

I did not make this x reader because I'm not good at those. I have to give my characters personality, backstory & physical characteristics. That's just my preference.

Also, the smut is reserved for the OC & Roman because... that's my man and I love him.

I do not take requests yet. Mostly because I barely have the time to write as is and I know they would just be sitting in my asks collecting dust like this one was for so long. This was just too good to not pursue. One day. Just not today lol. Okay, bye.

Pairing // Roman Reigns x Black Fem OC (Paula Heyman) x CM Punk

Warnings // Profanity // Smut [minors DNI] // Toxic behaviors // Age Gap

Word Count // 6.5k

“It’s going to be five versus five…”

Paula watched in the adulation that replaces the smug pride after waiting for his music to play. The entirety of Green Bay, Wisconsin buzzed with every emotion given to the human race as they recognized the infamous theme song.

Nothing feels like this. No amount of alcohol. No drug. Nothing can mimic this feeling of a live crowd giving back tenfold what’s given to them. 

He brushed past her, wrapping his hand to meet the rest of them inside the ring. A full on war breaking out the minute he slid inside. Five exceptionally large men, all cleared out the ring by her boys. With ease. It's how she knew she made the right decision. She knew no one else would carry it out like he would.

She made her way to the side of the ring just in time for their stare down. All the faces in the stands losing their minds.

CM Punk! CM Punk! CM Punk!

The pressure of the cheeky grin pushing through was heavy. She couldn’t help it. She hadn’t seen Roman in months. Hadn’t seen Punk even longer. But as soon as she called—he came. 

“Why are you here?” She read Roman’s lips as he squinted. 

“To save your ass,” was his reply. 

He was pissed. His pinched brows. The tension in his broad shoulders. The tightness of his mouth. The flexing of his jaw. His hand, opening and closing in a tight fist. No—he was fuming. But that’s only because he couldn’t see the bigger picture right now. That’s where she came in. That’s what warranted her presence in his life a necessity. If it wasn’t more obvious before tonight—amongst all the chaos that had ensued in her absence— it was now shoved in his face.

“Thank you. Really.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” Punk smiled unwrapping his hand. “That was only half the job.”

Her head swiveled slightly watching the hustle of the backstage crew. Gathering equipment, everyone mic’d up and moving with a purpose. She missed this. 

She nodded. “He’ll come around. Trust me.” The pressing matter of Roman’s disapproval of his presence was heavy. It lingered above them like a storm cloud. It put the biggest wedge between them. Something that was never there before in their relationship. “I just have to talk some sense into him. He’s emotional right now.”

“I’m not worried about him. I’m worried about you, Paula.” His eyes, sincere—always opposed to his appearance. The tattoos, the foul language, the attitude—none of it ever complimented his kind eyes. “I’ve seen the way he talks to you. The way he talks to everyone he loves.” He raised his brows.

Immediately defensive and strangely protective of her current client, she shook her head. “He’s just…used to betrayal. He keeps everyone at an arm’s length. It's his way of keeping control.”

“It doesn’t make it right.” He stood firm. The affection for his best friend and former manager, overriding any excuse she felt compelled to give him. He didn’t care for any of it.

“I guess I’ll let you go, then.” She scanned him once more, already thinking of her next phase of business. She didn’t have the luxury to sit and tangle in emotions. She was a woman working in sport’s entertainment. They already looked at her as if she was Barbie dropped in the jungle. And they expected her to get invested in her work in a way that was overlooked in men. Flirting and sleeping around and whatnot. But that wasn’t Paula Heyman.

She vowed to never get entangled with clients. It was business first, always. She was about business. That’s what they loved about her. The men—charismatic and dominant as they are—were off limits. But every now and again, she found the lines between client and manager blurring. Things get sticky. Lines get crossed.

Her first blurred line—Phil Brooks. Best in the world. And to the world he was CM Punk. The bad ass that swept the WWE universe off their feet.

They developed a friendship that transcended client and manager. An intimate kiss between the two, one drunk night celebrating another victorious defense of his title reign—almost led to something more. Thankful for the little voice in her head, she stopped it. Things were different after that. She put up boundaries, but it did nothing to ease the ache of what if. That same ache presenting itself right now, like it did every time they found themselves this close and secluded.

“Thank you, Paula.” He held a hand out. A spot in WarGames benefited him as much as it benefited the Bloodline and she made that possible. She gladly took his hand, until he pulled her all the way into him—foreheads kissing. “You think about what I said the other day?” He whispered. 

She sighed deeply. “Punk…”

“I know you remember what it felt like. All those years ago. Just the two of us. Young, wild, and hungry as hell. Kicking ass and taking names.” She released air from her nose reliving the memories. She had never felt more alive than she did with him. She’d be a liar if she didn’t admit to missing those days—and him. But that was then. This was now. She wasn’t that girl anymore. So, she kept that sentiment to herself. But he didn’t need to hear it. Because the same way she was now in synch with her current client, she once was with him. He could still feel it. “It’d be just like that. But better this time.” She opened her eyes that were met with his—specks of olive always so alluring. 

“Just think about it…Alright?” He pulled away as she nodded. Their hands lingering before he completely turned and left her there. 

She looked around, now aware of the world around her again, hoping no one saw their moment. Everything gets back to him here. Him.

Paula swallowed knowing she’d have to face him. She made a menacingly slow stride to his trailer after leaving the arena. She knocked twice. Then three more times, before she heard the familiar voice tell her it was open. 

She walked in the small but familiar space as he removed his OG Bloodline shirt with a heavy sigh, releasing all the weight that’s been dumped on him since losing his title. You’d think the load would be lighter now. The saying is supposed to go—heavy is the head that wears the crown. He had given his crown up, or rather it was stolen by the American Nightmare, and yet he still felt like the King. On top looking down at everyone else, even in his untimely absence. And Solo had presented him with an entire new set of weight with this whole New Bloodline mess. 

The muscles in his back flexed as he slightly stretched and rolled his head. The silence was agonizing. Gnawing at her because she could already feel whatever he wasn’t saying. 

“Where have you been?” He finally questioned. His back still to her. “I’ve been calling.” He took a sip of whatever he poured. 

She squinted at him once he finally turned to face her. His chest—one she’s seen plenty of times—still, a distraction as she attempted to just zero in on his static expression.

“That’s funny. Considering you went M.I.A. long before I did.” She crossed her arms, causing her full breast to push up, catching his attention for a split second. “My calls fell on death ears as well.”

“I asked you a question.”

“After Mania you vanished. You left me here. Vulnerable. Alone. Defending you. Fending for myself—”

The cup met the counter harder than he intended, summoning dead silence again as she swallowed the remainder of her rant. He had already lost his Bloodline before all this—then his title. He didn’t need another crash course on all the ways he’s fucked up. 

“I’m here now.” She spoke again when she felt it was safe enough to. “You’re here. Jimmy’s back. Jey’s back. Sami’s here. Things are back to normal.” As close to normal as possible without Solo and that belt hanging from his waist. 

He gradually nodded. Her words sinking in. He didn’t want to fight. He fought enough tonight. She turned to leave, knowing he preferred solitude at the end of the night.

“Don’t forget who you work for.”

She scoffed. Only Roman would leave her to fend for herself after he lost his little title and decided to tuck tail, just to come back and want to run shit again—as if he never left. But that’s just the kind of man he was. He wanted what he wanted, when he wanted it and he didn’t care who he had to run through to get it. That’s what drew Paula his way in the first place. Her contract was ending and she was looking for some else to counsel on the roster. There was not a single person that housed half as much charisma and hunger as the Roman Reigns. 

Their journey has been the epitome of a rollercoaster. By his side in feuds and every climb of the ladder. Reaping the benefits of accompanying such a charismatic figure in his own right. Her life went from great to legendary. Now, she sits on the Island of Relevancy as they call it—pockets as fat as they had ever been, and her life looks exactly the way she’d dreamed. 

But no good deed goes unpunished.

“How could I?”

Roman checked the time on his expensive watch again—only moments after the last check. Leg bouncing, jaw ticking, with that infamous stone cold exterior, that screamed he was not to be fucked with. Long fingers smoothed the hair above his plump top lip, until he reached the dark and greying hairs of his chin.

Whatever he was feeling, Paula felt in her bones tenfold. She shifted in her seat, unable to keep still. In the dark room, the only thing they could hear was her irregular breaths and his less than impatient sighs. 

She couldn’t explain it if someone were to ask her. It was as if signing the dotted line and agreeing to manage him put a hex on them. This invisible string—this unimaginable force pulling them together in every instance of every universe formed. She felt this burning,  unwavering loyalty to him. It was sick and twisted. The lengths she’d go to please him—to carry out his wishes. How empty, aimless and useless her life had felt these past months without him. Not even so much as a text from him. It took every fiber of strength to not answer that call. But she needed him—if only for a second—to feel what she had felt since Wrestle-mania. 

His brown eyes pierced her, feeling like another beam of light in place of the one they sat under at the stretched table. Three seats. One at the head where Roman sat of course. Another next to him, always reserved for her. Lastly, a vacant one at the other end. 

She knew what was coming next.

“Paula.” His deep voice made her heart stutter. Out of fear, relief and every other emotion in between.

“Yes, My Tribal Chief?” She answered trying her best to keep her voice steady amidst the storm of emotions brewing inside of her. 

“Where the fuck is he?”

Turning to meet his hard stare, she hesitated. Raking through her brain to find the words that wouldn’t tick him off. But considering the flex of his jawline, she could tell it was too late and it didn’t matter what she said—he was already at the edge of the cliff. 

“He’ll be here,” she assured. Only she hoped. Punk just like Roman liked to play mind games. Toy with his prey before he caught it. Please not today, she thought. She prayed their years of friendship and building a bond outside of their old contract was enough to get him to pull through for her. 

“I don't understand. He’s going around calling you his Wisewoman. He’s butting in on family matters. And now he’s got me waiting like I’m some errand boy. As if my time isn’t valuable.” The legs of the chair made a violent shriek as his towering frame began to rise. “Let’s go.” It wasn’t a question, nor was he looking for her opinion, but Paula still placed a hand on his forearm to stop him.

“Roman—”

On cue the slam of the heavy door that granted entry to the empty vast room sounded. Paula’s heart sighed watching him make his way to the empty seat. Looking back at Roman she silently challenged him to sit and he obliged. 

“Alright, let’s get this over with.” Punk checked the time on his watch. Paula rubbed her forehead feeling an oncoming migraine. These two men—with the whose dick is bigger games—were going to be the death of her. She had never faced a bigger challenge in all her years in the business. They were going to collectively chase her into an early retirement at the ripe age of thirty-one. 

Just get through the weekend, she thought. Then it’ll all be over…right? A dream. That’s what she was selling herself. As long as that hex she spoke about was still alive between her and her current client, she’d never know peace. With the fuck you, pay me attitude he rendered and big bully on the playground persona he carried with him like a purse, pissing anyone within a five mile radius off—it’ll never be over.

“I don’t know what you’re looking at your watch for. We’re on time. You’re the one that’s late, Junior.”

“Yeah, well I’m here. I don’t want to be here any more than you want me here. But you need something from me. So, I’d think you’d turn your asshole down just a little bit.”

“I don’t need shit from you.”

“You sure about that?” A snort pushed through his throat. “Cause the way you’ve been face down on the mat every week at the hands of your family says otherwise.”

Paula sat back like a child witnessing her parents have their first post-divorce argument. It was no point in getting in between these two. She knew better. They had to figure it out.

“Listen to me—”

“No, you listen to me. I came here for two things. One,” he held his pointer finger up, “to make it very clear that I’m not doing this for you.” He nodded in Paula’s direction. “I’m doing it for her. I’m not here for you—it’s all for her.”

Roman smiled so deeply his dimple showed as fine lines creased around his mouth. He sat back in the chair eyeing them both. Paula could feel the heat radiating off his body as she fiddled with the Bloodline ring he gifted her years ago, refusing to return eye contact. 

“I’m happy for you two. Really, I am.” Whatever feeling was opposite of happy on the spectrum, was what he was actually feeling inside. “Finding each other again after all these years. The story’s lined up perfectly. It’s beautiful. Poetic almost. But, that also has nothing to do with me. That’s y’all shit.” His hand shifted between the two of them. Paula flinched at the heightening aggression she recognized as a precursor before he usually put his hands on someone. “I don’t want—need—whatever you wanna call it—your help tomorrow night.” He spoke like a dragon emitting fire with his every word. 

Over his antics and borderline temper tantrum, Punk adverted his gaze to the only person in the room he deemed worthy of any acknowledgment. She took the deepest breath before finally speaking up for the first time since he entered. 

“My Tribal Chief.” She placed a dainty hand in front of where he sat on the table to disarm him first. He looked down at it as if it was a cuff restraining him. “With the way Solo has gone about things—especially after Crown Jewel—it wouldn’t be very wise to turn down a helping hand.” She spoke like a circus tamer trying to calm the big cat before it went rogue. “Now, I can find someone else. But there’s no one I trust to do this as much as him.”

Roman tried his hardest to accept her words, but the smug smirk on Punk’s face was pulling him in the direction of irrationality. 

“And you.” She continued only turning her head in Punk’s direction. “You think Solo is just going to forgive and forget what you’ve done?” The smirk vanished. “You speak like someone who has a choice, but let’s be all the way real here. If you don’t help, you’ll just move up on the list of people he plans to run through after he wins. We can do more together than apart. You mean to tell me the two of you can’t put these petty ass differences aside for just one night, to conquer a common enemy?”

Both men regarded one another. A silent battle that couldn’t have been louder in the ears of the woman between them—who knew both like the back of her hand. Punk was the first to come forward as he slid his forearm on the table.

“You don’t like me and I don’t like you. That much is clear. But Paula’s right. We can get through one night. One common enemy. One win. One time.”

“One time,” Roman agreed. 

“When it’s all over and done—you and I can have a different conversation in the ring, maybe.” He smiled pushing the chair back.

“What was the second thing?” Roman interrupted his attempt to remove himself from the meeting. The room grew eerily quiet. “You said you came here for two things.” He clasped his fingers together. “What was the second thing?”

Paula’s relief was short-lived as she watched the look he always had when he was up to no good present itself. “To make sure I get what I’m owed when it’s all said and done with,” he revealed. 

Roman scoffed with wide eyes. “I’d owe you a favor?” Punk immediately shook his head. 

“No—no, you don’t owe me anything.” His eyes flicked longingly to his best friend who he’d been removed from all these years. “My best friend—our Wisewoman will owe me a favor.” 

Paula subtly shook her head, hoping her eyes could relay what her mouth feared to speak. She remembered the conversation after he came out to help the Bloodline. How he begged her days before to just consider the idea of coming back home—as he referred to it as. In his corner, supporting him and counseling him. Keeping him on top. Although she never gave him a direct answer, she knew after tomorrow night, it’d go from an inquiry, to something owed—just as he spoke of now. 

Oh, but she was so wrong. About everything. While Punk did yearn for his friend to come back and play for his team—he had a bigger picture in mind. One he didn’t plan on revealing until every thing was all over, to eliminate the risk of this said favor not being carried out. 

Joy reflected in his eyes as he watched the shift of tension build within the two other parties at the table—but that wasn’t his problem. So, he got up and left them to deal with the mess. 

“Wisewoman,” his authoritative voice called to her. 

She winced. Her wish that he would just leave it alone until after WarGames, completely in vain. 

“Yes, My Tribal Chief?”

She met his dark eyes. “What is this favor he’s talking about?” He pressed.

“Uh—” Paula didn’t truly know and she knew that wasn’t an answer he was going to accept. She was only guessing that the favor had to do with their previous conversations. A topic way too touchy to present to Roman. He was already hanging onto his sanity by the thinnest thread. The contingency of losing his Wisewoman after just gaining her presence back, would sever that thread completely.

“Let’s just get through tomorrow night. Okay?” She flashed that pretty smile. Not at all ready to become the object of his wrath—like she’s been plenty of times before. “We can talk about it after. I promise.”

Again, she twisted the band gifted to her by the man seated next to her. Always by his side. Always the master pulling the strings to ensure him and his family stayed out in front. What she tried her best to conceal, was that she needed him as much as he needed her. It was a two way street. It wasn’t just the inevitable betrayal that she anticipated. It was the unprecedented emptiness she’d feel again without him.

WarGames was its namesake. A full on fucking war. A civil war amongst men of the same Bloodline, which made it that much more brutal—because it was rooted in love in place of hate. But in the throws of the obvious war between the original Bloodline and this new one—there was an equally intense war within what was supposed to be two men playing for the same team.

Every side eye and hateful glare that transpired, she shifted and sighed to herself. Anxiety growing until she had a garden full of concern and angst with her at the ringside table with the announcers. Two bombs that always seemed to be ready to detonate at any given moment.

She paced. She ran hands through her blowout frustratedly. She had to do away with the suit jacket. She was hot with worry. She didn’t know which was worse. Them in the confines of a cage outside the ring, or them inside a bigger cage in the heat of battle. She just kept praying that they made it through the night without killing each other and winning of course. 

When Roman wedged a hand out to prevent Punk from entering the match, Paula nearly lost it. She was sure they were going to kill each other before even stepping foot inside the ring, then. Mean ass, she thought as he waved a hand at an exhausted Punk whom he disregarded to help the rest of the Bloodline on their feet.

Proud. That’s what the pinball of her emotions landed on at the end of the night. Her boys fought valiantly and the win was well deserved. Punk and Roman even shook hands. Two of her favorite men, now coming to an understanding. A mutual respect. She did that. 

At the end of it all, Roman met her down the steps of the ring—a strong hand cupping her face. His thumb grazing her cheek three times. I love you was the hidden significant message. Something he started years ago. Too prideful to speak it, he’d stroke the words with his thumb. On her wrist, her arm, her knee. Today, her face. It’s when she knew she made the right decision. The war was over. 

In the wee hours of the night, she found herself in his trailer. He called her over and offered a bottle of champagne that they popped open together in celebration. Things were finally looking like they were coming together after being abruptly dismantled. 

On their second glass now, they stood reminiscing on all it took to even get to this point. How far they had come and how much further they planned to take it. Somewhere in the expensive champagne and the fog of taking a jog down memory lane, Roman was feeling more sentimental than usual.

“You know I appreciate you right, Paula?” Thank you would’ve been too much. But even him extending his appreciation was something she didn’t see often. It had her momentarily melting like ice cream on a stick in ninety degree weather. 

He knew he lashed out more than what was needed. Talked to her like the shit on the bottom of his shoe at times. He threw more than enough responsibility in her lap. Threw a fit when things didn’t go his way. Created more problems for Paula to come behind and clean up, instead of solutions. But his worst crime of all—leaving her alone after losing at Mania. He was ashamed. He didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t ready to face the universe of WWE yet. More importantly, he wasn’t ready to face her. She worked her ass off, day in and day out, to guarantee he made it to the top of the mountain—and he lost it all in one night. 

“Next phase of business—putting that Ula Fala back around your neck where it belongs.” Already onto the next phase—moving the goal post back. “Only halfway there, Chief.” She offered a half smile.

Always so professional—so well put together. Composed. He always yearned to see her come undone. Touched himself to vivid imaginative flashes of what that must look like. Loose curls cascaded around her, head rolled back and mouth agape. Him beneath her, admiring his new canvas—her. He couldn’t help but to paint a picture of what Paula Heyman would look like as a mess, losing control—just for him. Desperate. Begging.

She was strong. Resilient. But even the most unwavering women—solid as a sculpture in Italy—could always use the reactive force of a stronger man. 

Those lips. They were naturally pouty and plump. Every time she talked, he found himself drawn to them and how they curved at certain letters. He deemed them perfect. Only able to use his imagination, he thought about how they’d feel wrapped around him. How’d they look. 

“When’s the last time somebody fucked you?” He blurted out. She nearly choked on the bubbling champagne. He stood unmoved, expecting an answer.

“I’m sorry?”

“You heard me.” He placed his glass down. His dick pressed uncomfortably against his pants. He was losing every ounce of patience and composure he had. He was done playing games. He respected her and her hustle, but it did nothing to put out the fire inside of him whenever he watched her interacting with other men—especially that motherfucker Punk.

“And I’m not talking about the last time you had sex—no. I mean the last time somebody fucked you so hard, you forgot to breathe. So good you felt it everywhere. It was all you could think about after the fact.” 

Her skin heated up to an uncomfortable degree. The kind that warrants tiny tingles and possible rashes all over your body. Her breathing pattern kicked up at the smoldering look in his eyes. She couldn’t mistake his intentions now. Especially after her eyes flickered to the bulge in his pants. 

He made a step toward her. The heavy thud of his giant boot meeting the floor sounding as a doomsday soundtrack for her professionalism. She knew she was in trouble. “Roman—”

“Shh,” he hushed her and smiled wickedly. His sharp canines on display. He relieved her of the glass and sat it on the counter her ass was rested on. She didn’t even understand how he’d gotten so close so fast. She was sure he could hear her heartbeat, as it was booming in her own ears now. “Relax,” he whispered. “Let me thank you properly.” The wicked smile had vanished in a flash and in its place was an intense concentration. His brown pupils blown and trained on her lips.

He was going to kiss her. And as much as Paula’s head screamed no—her body conforming to his and her mouth falling open before he even reached her, told a completely different story.

The air around them was so charged, if anyone else walked in they’d be electrocuted on sight. His fingers found their way into her hair, tangling and fisting it, earning a gasp from her. Leaning in, his tongue swept her mouth fiercely. He didn’t need to test the waters with a timid peck. For what? She was his Wisewoman and he planned on making that very clear tonight. In the sickest part of his membrane, he wished he could sit Punk down and make him watch what he planned to do to her. 

Paula’s hands found his muscular and tanned arms as his free one roamed the meaty flesh of her ass though her skirt. Always galloping about in the highest heels, shortest skirts and tightest dress pants. He craved to know what it felt like under his palms. To squeeze and knead it as he was now. His dick was so stiff, it was almost painful. 

The eruption of their kiss quickened. It was messy now, as they couldn’t even keep up with their own lust—passionate and scorching with the heat of hell. 

“How long?” He mumbled in between the kiss. Still, expecting an answer. 

“I—I don’t know,” she admitted. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had blown her mind in bed. She tried for years to make some sort of connection, but it was pointless. This job—governing Roman, had become her life. It consumed her and men could see that. She opted for the occasional fling here and there, but they were all pointless. Always leaving her dissatisfied and half full. So she scrapped the idea of men and dating altogether. 

Roman roughly turned her by the hips. Pushing his pulsing member on her ass and growling in her ear at the friction of her writhing against him. She was soaking and he barely touched her.He could smell her and it ignited the beast in him. 

This was a new frequency of intimacy for her. No man had ever been so exhilarating and demanding in his approach. He commanded things from her body without even speaking a word. It was sorcery, really. 

She felt his hands next. Big, calloused, and firm. They slithered over her thighs as his warm breath and facial hair tickled her ear. Under her skirt, they disappeared until it was bunched around her waist. She got lost in the heat and hardness of his body. Her eyes popped open after hearing the violent tear of stocking material. The cotton of her panties snapped next. 

“Ro—Unnh!” 

She gasped violently at his entry and he wasn’t even halfway in yet. No condom. Nothing between them except passion and the longing of two people who underhandedly craved each other for years and couldn’t do anything about it. Hatred and frustration, that only two people who loved one another could muster—sprinkled on top.

He eased his length in, inch by inch, watching the pinched look on her gorgeous face. This was better than he had imagined. Crinkle between her curved brows, hands spread on the wall, mouth as wide as it can go. All because of him.

He stretched her out to his liking, until he reached the end and then pulled back. He slammed back in almost losing his nut at the squeeze she granted around his thickness. It felt like the best hug he ever received—warm, wet, and tight as fuck. A small hand slithered between them, to which he easily caught. Using one strong hand to pin both her wrists together above them on the wall. 

Leaning back slightly, he admired the view. Her round ass perked up and pushed out. Puffy lips  wrapped tight around him, glistening under the lights of his trailer. The deep line in the center of her arched back with a thin layer of sweat.

“You’re perfect. Just like this.”

“Roman,” she whined. Frustrated and helpless to move as he had her trapped. 

He smiled against the side of her face. “You feel so good to me.” Another gasp as he began to push in and out at a steady pace. Squishy and sloppy sounds filling the small space around them. “Can’t believe you kept this shit from me for so long, baby.” His free hand came down on her left ass cheek before he dug his finger in her hip, guiding her up and down his massive dick. He let her adjust and find her own rhythm—too fixated on the little sounds from her mouth and the contortions of her pretty face, to do anything himself. “Yeah. Keep throwing that pussy back on me.”

“It's so big,” she moaned. She shouldn’t have been surprised. He talked too much shit to not have the means to back it up. He grinned smugly.

“You can take me. Right, baby?”

Struggling to locate her voice she just nodded against the wall profusely. Afraid he might stop and put an end to this immeasurable sensation he awakened. It hurt so good. He was creating a monster and he didn’t even know it.

“Keep them hands right there. Don’t move,” he instructed. He used his own to grab handfuls of her ass in both palms, stretching her wide so he could get a clear shot of her wetness pulling on him. Every time he withdrew she sucked him back in. A trail of white stuff lingering as evidence to how good he was making her feel. “Making a fucking mess,” he grunted. He let his possessive hold go, loving the recoil of her ass on his pole. It was hypnotizing. He questioned how long he could hold out like this. 

Against what his body was advising him—which was to pace himself—he violently pounds into her drenched hole over and over and over again. Beating her up. 

“Oh my—fuck! Yesss.” She was a glutton for punishment. His punishment disguised in gratitude. His frustrations took control of the wheel. Her going ghost on him was unacceptable. He was losing his fucking mind. A fact he’d never admit out loud. It didn’t go well with his, I don’t need anybody—head of the table—persona. 

Teeth barred down and upper lip curled into a snarl, he continued his assault, but that little pussy packed some power. It fought back. A fight he wasn’t prepared for. She was leaking. Juices running down her toned leg and his balls that hit her clit with every connect. 

“Damn, girl.” His head falls back for a second. 

“Right there—oh my goddd!”

“He can’t help you right now.” He teased huskily. 

“Please, Ro.”

“Please what? Huh?”

She didn’t even know what she was pleading for. Mercy? Release? She wanted more of everything. More of him, if possible. 

They found themselves in the space of his bedroom. He wanted to try every position, but he knew he’d have her in here until this same time the next day to fulfill that fantasy. So he opted for the position where he could see everything.

He had her on full display. Button down now completely off, her breast hung freely over the lace bra after he pulled them out. Stockings still obliterated, the hole he made had grown. He could see everything. Her swollen lips surrounding her poking clit. The tight ring of her ass that he vowed to play with later. The wetness smeared everywhere. 

He gripped himself—heavy and strong—at the base to ease back in where they both needed him, but not before slapping it down twice, loving how reactive she was to every little thing. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think she hadn’t been touched in years.

She was enamored with his body. The way his smooth bronze skin stretched over every defined line and cut. How his tattoos—reflecting the armor of a Pacific warrior—danced with every flex of muscles. He had the body of a god. If only it wasn’t attached to such an asshole.

His hand found her breast. He pinched the chocolate nub until it hardened again. 

“Push ‘em together for me.”

Hastily, she cupped both D cups together. Her chocolate peaks to the forefront as they bounced with every salacious thrust of his hips. 

He planted two swollen fists on either side of her head to lean all his weight down. His mouth latched onto her, igniting a tingle in her clit as she clenched around him. 

“Mmm,” he hummed like he was tasting the most delicate and richest piece of chocolate straight from the factory. Flicking, sucking and swirling. He was in heaven as she watched in awe. The most dominant man on the current roster, feasting on her. He bit down on one nipple causing her to jolt up slightly. One last suck as he pulled back, releasing her, and leaving her nipples tender. “Tastes sweeter than you look.” He bit down on his bottom lip. 

He hooked his hands under her knees and pushed until they met the bed to get a deeper angle. The sounds—loud and erotic slapping of flesh, as he buried himself inside of the softest place on earth. She fit like she was molded specifically for him. And in this moment, you couldn’t convince him that she wasn’t.

“You’re mine.” He growled in between pants. “You belong to me. You hear me?” There it was again. That deadly sense of loyalty encompassing her. The looming of Punk’s claim and this damned favor, hanging above his head. 

“Yes,” she barely whispered. 

“Yes, what?” He pushed. Thrust growing erratically sharper and more intense.

“Yes, My Tribal Chief.” 

Satisfied, he rewarded her with another overpowering, sloppy kiss. His hair covered them both. Her hands came up to cup his face—grabbing desperately at his beard as their tongues tangled. But his mission was only halfway complete. He wanted that nut. She earned it. She made him feel like a winner even in the absence of a title or Ula Fala. 

He didn’t want to, but he rose up breaking the intimate kiss. Picking his pace back up. All the way in and all the way out. Hitting that spot that had her pulling at her own hair. Eyes rolled back into her brain like she was possessed.

“I wanna feel you cum on this dick. Come on,” he begged. “Cum for me Paula. Cum for Your Tribal Chief.”

It was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Like an unforgiving flood coming through a broken dam, she exploded on him just as he requested. Forgetting to breathe. Shaking uncontrollably—she felt him everywhere. 

Attentively, he ogled at every change in her beautiful face, every shake of her body—as she unraveled on him, shedding every bit of composure she had left. “That’s it,” he commended breathless. Loving the scene before him. His big palms, rubbing up and down the length of her soft thighs and stomach, to help her come back to center. 

She was shook. World completely knocked off its axis to the point where tears threatened to spill from the corners of her almond eyes. 

She knew working for him came with its perks—but this? This shot straight to the top of the list of all the benefits that came with being his special counsel.

A/N // Of course, if you read it or even a portion, thank you. Feedback is always welcomed💗

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[revvethasmythh]

listen, now that everything is said and done i'm going to say something i've been thinking but not outright saying for the past nearly four years. frankly, imogen and laudna's relationship is a pale shadow of caleb and veth's and if you really sit and think about it, it's outright embarrassing for the former party. it's like if you saw a beautiful piece of art and tried to emulate it and then the only thing you managed to jot down that was the same was the basic shape and you never added any color when the color was the most important part. imogen and laudna's relationship is formed out of almost the exact same origins (troubled mage who needs to keep a distance from regular society joins up with monstrous misfit with a traumatic backstory and become each other's most important person while traveling place-to-place because they keep getting into trouble in cities). the difference is, genuinely, how much more colorful and lived in caleb and veth's story feels. they met in a podunk county jail and worked together to break out of the place, stayed together for practical reasons (straight-up survival) and then out of genuine friendship. they were hobos in the woods together. they cuddled on the side of the roads on cold nights together. they were genuinely each other's sole lifeline because they were the type of people no one in the world cared about in a very real, visceral way. they were also con artists, and sam and liam worked together to come up with an entire booklet of different cons they used to survive, which come into play surprisingly often during the campaign (Modern Literature, famously, but also Mother's Love and Money Pot featured).

comparatively, we know next to nothing about what imogen and laudna's lives looked like after leaving gelvaan, and the Incident™️ that sent them running in the first place remains amorphous and random no matter how many times the story is told or whatever extra details get added. the people of gelvaan found laudna to be a generically threatening presence (because of her fun-scary appearance and/or kooky-fun-scary behavior) and picked up their torches and pitchforks to run her out of town. imogen heard her thoughts and found them so beautiful she nearly killed two of the townspeople she grew up with the defend her and then they fled into the night together. and that's it. what did they do for two entire years after that? i don't know! neither do you. they don't appear to have struggled for money like caleb and veth did, there's no reference to hard-living, no real reference to what jobs they took to stay afloat, no mention of the practical realities of living as homeless nomads, no mention of towns and cities they'd visited and how those places impacted them. nothing. empty. no color. how did their relationship develop? also don't know! they seem to have slotted together perfectly as friends with no conflict for years before slotting together perfectly as lovers while batting aside all attempts at conflict later. done and dusted, that's the relationship, and people have the gall to call caleb and veth's successor relationship 'soulmatism' when it doesn't hold a candle to what the original offered.

which was, to be clear, endless complexity. i can't tell you how to define it, and i don't think the character's themselves could define it if they tried. sam went into the campaign intending to lean into a familial relationship and quickly realized that wasn't the vibe, course-corrected into veth having a crush on caleb--something sam has said developed fairly early in the campaign.* liam went into the relationship not intending to care about her nearly as much as he ended up doing, then spent the early campaign eps grappling with just how suddenly important she was to him, to the point that, in the face of her potentially dying in episode 20, liam says to sam, "do you want to make my character turn evil already?"** both were surprised at how tightly their characters clung to each other, and developed a deeply caring, highly insular dynamic where they were suspicious of outsiders and desperately guarded each other. with full retrospect, both went into the relationship intending to use each other (caleb for general usefulness/protection and veth, obviously, hoping caleb could change her back one day), then found such deep and tender care that they became each other's worlds. for a time. until nott became veth and veth had a husband and it sent their relationship into a tailspin because no matter how you frame the relationship, caleb clearly felt his feelings for her and the way they behaved together stepped over the line of how one should act with a married woman. after that, he is terrified of the idea that he might not have a place in her life and works so hard to create opportunities to insinuate himself into her present and future (teleportation spells so she can travel home quickly and still return to the group, making room for her family in the tower so she can stay with him, offering to tutor luc in magic to stay in her life, etc). veth gets her body and her life back but fears returning home will be lackluster compared to what she's experienced with the group, starts falling out of love with her husband, and has intense extra-martial feelings for caleb that are canonical. their relationship morphs and changes constantly throughout the campaign, and the one thing about their dynamic that never changes is how deeply and truly they love each other. you want to talk about soulmatism? them being the two party members with fake names who's real names share aspects of each other ("Bren" and "Brenatto") both from small-town dwendalian empire who's lives have been deeply impacted by meddling of the cerberus assembly (veth's in adulthood, caleb's in childhood) and who's deepest traumas are respectively fire and water does the trick for me.

so why is one so popular and the other, particularly as a romantic ship, very much is not? it would be obtuse of me not to immediately point to the fact that imogen and laudna are two pretty, skinny white women who claim to have deliciously little agency in their own stories and provide a blank enough canvas that the relationship can be whatever you want it to be. there's a reason there's so many AU fics for them, after all. caleb and veth on the other hand would center first a relationship between the handsome white fandom-popular sadboi and *checks notes* a self-described ugly, unfeminine goblin with deep neuroses and later a short, fat brown woman who also happens to be a young mother from a small country town. popular fandom, tragically, will almost always turn away from dealing with complexity of the latter for the empty calories of the former regardless of the quality gap between the two. if anything, watching the popularity of imogen and laudna's relationship has cemented my opinion that if veth had been different (either a man or a generically attractive white woman or someone more conventionally pretty just in general), widobrave would have been a massively popular ship, and i think it would have been regardless of veth's marriage. people can forgive a lot to write about their two generically attractive favorites getting together. they're a lot less forgiving for an ugly goblin or a fat, brown young mother, though.

tldr: reject modernity, embrace tradition. ship widobrave

*Talks Machina for C2E88, VOD no longer available, but a paraphrase of the quote can be found here **(2:09:30 on the YouTube VOD).

[blitzwhore]

Do you have any predictions for season 3?

I do! A lot! I've been letting this ask sit in my inbox for a few days so I could properly put them into words, and in doing so ended up making a prediction bingo:

Some of these need a bit more explanation, so allow me to elaborate:

-> I think M&M will ultimately keep the baby, but it'll have a big impact on the dynamics of I.M.P. It'll mean Loona will have to go on more missions (while Stolas stays as secretary). It'll mean Sallie May will be a lot more present, and might even join I.M.P. herself. It's already been established she's a skilled assassin. (I also think Millie will be scared to tell Blitz at first, fearing the strain she knows this will put on the business, but he'll immediately give her absolutely every financial and emotional accommodation she needs, even if it means overworking himself).

-> I think Vassago isn't gonna let go of the trial, and will chase after Andrealphus to get some answers, then eventually seek out Stolas. I think when he finds out that Stolas was just saving Blitz's life because they're in love, he'll ship the two of them very hard.

-> I think Cash will try to get back into Blitz's life for his own personal gain now that Blitz's business is going well and he's well known. This might lead to more childhood flashbacks, to Stolas finding out about the fire, and to Blitz's bond with everyone else growing. I think this might also be how Stolas finds out what really happened on the day they met as kids (Cash selling him to Paimon and forcing him to steal).

-> I think Octavia will forgive Blitz before she forgives Stolas. There are theories out there about Via being in danger and Blitz going through great lengths to save her; I could definitely see that happening. I also theorise Blitz will adopt her before she's of age, the same way he did with Loona.

-> I think we're going to see more of Andrealphus, and I personally agree with the theories that he secretly desires something like what Stolitz have, or maybe had a crush on Stolas growing up and/or has an imp fetish. Either way, I think the reason he doesn't want Stolas and Blitz to be happy will be a lot more personal than he's been leading everyone to believe.

-> I also think Ozzie and Fizz's relationship will continue to develop and grow as they face new challenges and sources of conflict, both within their relationship (eg. the tension from what happened at the trial) and from external sources (eg. Mammon).

-> Lastly, I think Asmodean Crystals are what give imps the ability to conjure a human disguise (see: Barbie in Unhappy Campers), and I think Stolas will help Blitz and M&M learn how to conjure theirs as soon as he finds out they don't know how. Or maybe Barbie herself will teach them? Who knows!

Other random things I didn't include in the bingo:

Loona and Stolas bonding

Many, many soft and tender moments between Stolas and Blitz

More sassy/cunty Stolas

More Octavia songs

Loona song?!

Barbie meets Loona

Also: Stolas meets Barbie

There are also things I didn't include because they're not exactly "predictions", as we've already been told/shown they're going to happen, like another trial, a Vassago song, and Stella backstory. Looking forward to those too!!

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Rain Confessions

Summary: A dance in the rain at Jackson's last day of the summer celebration leads to you and Joel finding out something surprising about the both of you after you sneaked off to have some alone time.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Rating: E

Wordcount: 3.5k

Warnings: falling in love, a whole lot of backstory nobody asked for, implied past SA, age gap (around 15-20 years), fluff, baby fever, smut (semi public sex, unprotected sex) accidental breeding kink (?), pregnancy surprise at the end

A/N: This is my entry for @undercoverpena April showers challenge! I had so many ideas for this challenge, but this is it (for now lol)

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If you had learned anything about the community of Jackson since arriving here almost two years ago, it was that the people would always find a reason to have a town celebration. 

It was foreign to you at first, celebrating the first summer harvest a week after you arrived. Seeing everyone in the middle of town, celebrating while music was played by some towns people on their instruments. Children playing with wide smiles, safe from all the horrors that laid behind the walls of this tiny town. So much food everyone wouldn’t have to cook for days. 

Dancing. 

Happy people. 

You had a full blown panic attack the first time you had attended a town celebration, overwhelmed from how… normal everything seemed now. Almost like it had been before the outbreak happened. 

You only had little memory of how it was before. You had just turned 20, moved to another state, far away from all of your family for a job you were excited for, but would never get to work in. 

You had been shot on outbreak day, waking up almost a month later in a make shift hospital in what would later become the Dallas QZ. You remembered being told how lucky you were that an officer had brought you in in all that chaos. There would be many times after you had healed and been released, that you asked yourself if you really had been that lucky. The question about why you survived, being a constant thought inside your head. 

Whatever had happened to you had fucked with your memory, leaving you with big gaps about your life before you woke up in the hospital. 

You had stayed in Dallas until the QZ fell, leaving with a group of what you thought back then were friends. You had worked with those people, those men, for many years at the QZ. They had never given any indication about not being decent people. You trusted them.

Trust that you clearly had misplaced. 

You would learn in the following years that they had only taken you with them so they had something to offer to whomever could help them survive. 

It would take years for you to finally escape from them, kill all of them, leaving you with nothing but the clothes on your body stumbling through the deserted lands of what you would learn was Wyoming until a group of people found you. 

You had asked them to kill you, tired of life. 

But they had taken you in. Maria saw something in you that day. 

You became a part of Jackson. Working in the greenhouse every day because as it turned out, you had a green thump.

Yet you were still keeping to yourself. 

The years of abuse you had endured, did not make it easy to trust new people. You only had little friends. Lauren, who worked with you at the greenhouse, and Tommy who made it close to impossible not to be friends with. Maria who became like a big sister to you. 

You weren’t looking to meet more people, let alone find something more than just friendship until Joel Miller stepped into your life. 

You had been pared with him on your monthly patrol, something every citizen of Jackson had been tasked at least once per month, not even knowing he had joined the community, or knowing that he was Tommy’s brother.

He was quiet, reserved, cold, but only to the people who were to scared to look past the facade he put on. 

It was like you could see right through him, the way he was masking the pain he carried with him all day. Maybe because you had been doing the same thing. 

The first patrol you went on together left you drenched to your bones, surprised by rainfall, making you sick for a whole week after with Joel being the only one who would check on you. 

Something you didn’t understand at that time, because you did not know the man. 

You still weren’t sure who made the first move of spending some more time together. It seemed to just… happen. Eating together at the Tipsy Bison after he came back from his job at Patrol. Him visiting you in the greenhouse when he found himself lonely, telling you about his complicated relationship with Ellie at the moment. 

You spending time at his place to teach Ellie how to bake, because she had been nagging you for weeks to do so. 

He never pushed, always listened to whatever you had to say, both of you opening up to each other about what you had went through before getting to Jackson. 

He had held you after you talked about the years you had been in captivity, vowing to never let anyone ever lay a hand on you. 

It was after the first baking lesson, Ellie long gone to bed, that you found yourself in Joel’s arms for the first time, his body on top of yours, his cock filling you slowly, while he whispered words of praise against your ear. 

Yet it would take another couple of months for the two of you to admit that you had feelings for one another, oblivious to what everyone around you saw with their eyes closed. 

There hadn’t been some grand gesture like in the movies. 

It had been a normal night where you felt a little restless and decided to walk towards the stables to wait for Joel to come back from patrol. The way his face lit up when he saw you as he rode through the gates, taking you by surprise even though your face was a mirror image of his. He had wrapped his arms around you and whispered how much he missed you before he kissed you softly, the world around you disappearing when he admitted to you that he’s been in love with you for a while now. 

You had moved into his house the week after.

And now you were in your shared bedroom, getting into clean clothes while Joel sat on the bed, looking at you with warm eyes. 

„We could just stay in? Have some time for ourselves while everyone is busy celebrating the last day of summer?“ He asked and you smiled softly, putting your pants on, while his eyes continued to undress you. 

„And do what?“ You asked. 

„I can think of a thing or two. I’d start with getting you out of this jeans again,“ he winked and you smiled shyly at the way he looked at you. 

You hope he would forever look at you like that. 

„You know your brother would come looking for us. We promised we would be there. And Ellie asked you to come too,“ you reminded him and he sighed. 

Things between him and Ellie were still hard, but she was slowly coming around. There would be a small art installation from the school at the town square and Ellie had drawn a couple of paintings she was excited to show off. 

Joel got up from the bed and walked over to you, his hands coming to rest on your hips. 

„You gonna let me dance with you?“ He asked and you sighed, pulling your arms up and crossing your hands behind his neck, looking up at him. He was smiling softly at you and you were pretty sure you would never be able to love another person like you loved Joel Miller.

„Always,“ you smiled before you got on your tiptoes to kiss him softly. 

You were watching Joel and Ellie from afar, both of them standing in front of a painting she did from a landscape across town square that was currently filled with people. Ellie had told you that it was the mountain view she had woken up to for an entire week while she was sick on the road, Joel taking care of her until she felt better to continue their travels on their way to find Tommy here in Jackson. 

Joel was visibly struggling to keep the tears at bay as you saw Ellie explain it to him before they hesitantly hugged each other. 

You were sitting under one of the tents that had been put up earlier today, the sky not looking like it would be dry outside much longer. Yet it was warm enough to only wear a T-shirt.

„You think they gonna be okay?“ Tommy asked, sitting down next to you, little Elijah in his arms. Maria had given birth not too long ago to a mini version of Tommy much to her delight. She waved at you from next to the grill, and you waved back before you reached your hand out to Elijah who took your finger with a squeal. 

„I think so. She’s beginning to understand why he did what he did. And he’s understanding why she’s so upset. They miss each other,“ you said and Tommy nodded. 

„I would have done the same if it was my kid,“ Tommy said and you nodded. 

„Yeah. Me too,“ you smiled at Elijah who now was trying to suck on your finger, making you chuckle. 

„Are your parents not feeding you enough, little man?“ You said with a grin. 

Without answering he proceeded to pull your finger in his mouth, making you giggle. 

„Maria just fed him twenty minutes ago. He’s just ravenous,“ Tommy rolled his eyes.

He turned his head when he heard Maria call for him. 

„Can you take him for a moment? My wife calls,“ he asked. With a smile you nodded, opening your arms for the little boy to be placed against your chest, kissing his forehead while he still sucked on your finger. 

„Aren’t you just the cutest little thing?“ You hummed with a small smile as he snuggled against you. When you looked up you found Joel’s eyes locked on you from across the little square and you felt your cheeks warming at the look he was giving you. 

In the past couple of weeks you had the recurring dream about having a baby on your own, a mini version of Joel. You dreamed of watching him with a tiny baby on his chest. You dreamed of your own little family. 

Elijah used this moment to nibble on your knuckles, making your eyes widen before you looked down at the little guy again. 

„You really are hungry huh?“ You laughed.

„He’s teething,“ Maria said, smiling down at you with a plate of food in her hands, Tommy following behind her.

„You gonna eat some spare rips next summer, huh?“ You teased, tickling the babies side, making him giggle. 

„He sure will be,“ Tommy said proudly, before he took Elijah back. 

Music started to play from the band that had formed earlier this year from the town and you could see Tommy smirk. 

„I think you had an admirer,“ he winked before you turned around and found Joel walking towards you. When he was close he held one hand out which you took. 

„You promised me a dance,“ he said and you couldn’t help but smile. 

„I did, didn’t I?“ You said before you let him guide you towards the middle of the square were people had already gathered to dance. 

The band was playing a song you did not recognise. It was a slow song for a change, Joel and you having danced to two songs before laughing loudly at the way you just could not manage to not stumble over your own feet. 

But now you were in his arms, your cheek against his chest as he slowly swayed you to the beat, his lips against the top of your head while he murmured the words to the song. 

You took a deep breath of his familiar earthy scent that always felt like coming home. 

It was then that you felt the first drops of rain. Feeling his arms tighten around you he cursed quietly as it began to rain, the sky opening up, drenching you within seconds, your clothes clinging to your body. 

The normal reaction would be to seek shelter from the rain, just like the people around you who quickly ran towards the tents that had been put up. 

But you looked up at Joel who was already looking at you, his hair clinging to his face, drops of water falling from his nose down on you.

The band was still playing, the song changing to a distinct version of Purple Rain, making the people who were now in the tents laugh, but you just smiled, letting Joel twirl you on the improvised dance floor before you came to rest against his chest again, both of you laughing. 

You danced for a couple more minutes, before he kissed you deeply, holding you close against him.

„Get a room!“ You heard Tommy yell and you smiled against Joel’s lips, before you took his hand and led him away from the town square.

He had you crowded against the wall outside of the greenhouse as soon as you rounded the building, his lips on yours, his hands rounding your face. 

The greenhouse was closer, your house being on the other side of town. 

It was still raining, the both of you under the small and apparently leaking roof that was above the outside work station, just out of view from the building. You could still hear the people down the street celebrating when he picked you up to sit you down on the work table, your legs parting so he could step between them. 

„We should get out of these clothes,“ you mumbled against his lips, your fingers working on opening his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders. He sucked your bottom lip between his. 

„We should,“ he agreed, before he pulled your shirt over your head, growling softly before his head lowered between your tits, pushing your bra down, sucking your nipple into his mouth. 

„Shit….“ You moaned, your hands pushing into his hair, your eyes dropping close. 

There was a tiny part of you, that knew it would be a better idea to get back home and out of these clothes, but you wanted Joel so badly, right now. 

„Love these perfect tits,“ he hummed, playfully biting into the soft skin above your left breast. 

„Joel please… Just….“ You pulled his head up so he was looking at you, your eyes wide and needy. 

„You want me to fuck you? Right here? Again?“ He asked and you nodded, memories of all the times he had you right here while the people were working inside, filling your mind, a shudder running down your spine. 

„Sure is gonna be fun to get you out of these drenched jeans,“ he joked and you chuckled before you jumped from the table.

It was a little struggle, the wet denim clinging to your legs like a second skin, but after a little bit of Joel’s help, you had them down to your ankles and Joel kissed you softly. 

„Turn around,“ he hummed and you did, your hands on the edge of the table while you heard Joel’s belt unbuckle, followed from an annoyed huff that let you turn your head over your shoulder to find him too struggling to get his jeans off, making you smile to yourself until you saw him free his cock, his pants just so pushed down to get it out. 

He looked at you with a bashful smile, before he took a step closer, his big hands moving over your ass. 

„Gotta make this quick so I can get you home and out of those clothes,“ he said, before he wrapped one hand around his cock and lined himself up. 

„This okay?“ He asked. He always did, every single time, needing to hear you consent after you told him about how you had been treated in the past. 

„Yes,“ you nodded and he winked at you before slowly sinking into you, inch after inch of his cock filling you, stretching you, until he was nestled deep inside of you, his hips flush against your ass. 

You turned your head back forward, letting it fall down, your eyes closing. 

„Baby…“ he sighed, letting his head fall against your back. He kissed your spine before he began to move, finding a slow rhythm that had you positively losing your mind. 

The rain was still falling hard, dripping down Joel’s back as he fucked into you.

„Need it harder,“ you whined, finding your back pushed against his chest the next moment, one of his hands across your chest, holding one of your tits as his thrusts got deeper. Faster. Harder. 

You brought your hands up, both holding Joel’s arm that was across your chest as he fucked into you. 

His lips found your neck, licking up the rain that was still dripping down your body and you whimpered. 

He took a couple of steps back, pulling you with him until you were back outside in the rain, the warm drops hitting your flushed skin. You leaned your head back against Joel’s shoulder, your eyes opening to find the sun coming out just when Joel’s other hand slipped down between your legs, his hands covering your pussy, his fingers parted to feel how his cock entered you before he moved it in slow circles, stimulating your clit. 

It was too much. 

The rain, his cock fucking you, his hands all over you, his mouth sucking softly at your neck, in the middle of the garden you were working in every single day. 

You came with a soft cry of his name, clenching around his cock, struggling to keep yourself on your feet as he continued to fuck into you. 

„Good girl,“ he hummed against your ear, his hand on your breast tightening, groping, and you gasped. 

„Wish you could cum inside me,“ you hummed and he cursed. 

„Wish I could….“ You stopped yourself, not wanting him to know your deepest secret. Not before you had an actual talk about it. 

„Wish you could what?“ He asked, his thrusts getting slower. He turned your head so you were looking at him and you were sucking your bottom lip in. 

„Wish I could have your baby,“ you whispered, whimpering when you felt him twitch inside of you immediately, his eyes darkening. 

„You want that?“ He asked and you nodded. 

„Fuck,“ he groaned, beginning to fuck you again, somehow ever harder than before, both of his hands now on your tits as he pumped into you. 

„You wanna have my baby?“ He asked. 

„Want me to fuck you so full of me, until it takes?“ He grunted and you moaned. 

„God yes. Yes please Joel. Fuck a baby into me,“ you whimpered and he groaned, his thrusts getting sloppier and you could feel him pulse inside of you before he pulled out, coming against your thigh, his head falling against your shoulder. 

You were both panting, trying to fill your lungs with air while the rain around you seemed to finally slow down. 

Suddenly nervous about what you said you were trying to form an excuse about it, when Joel spoke up. 

„You really meant that?“ He asked, his voice soft. 

Gulping you turned around in his arms, avoiding his eyes until he tilted your head up to him, so you had to look at him. 

„I don’t… I guess I do? I… At first I thought it was just the fantasy about it, but the longer I thought about it….“ You mumbled. 

„How long have you been thinking about it, sweetheart?“ He asked softly. 

„Since I moved in?“ You said and he huffed before he shook his head with a soft smile on his lips. 

„How about we get home and out of these wet clothes and talk about it?“ He asked.

Slowly you nodded and he kissed you, before he helped you get dressed, which was almost more complicated than getting out of the wet clothes before. 

The rain had almost completely stopped as you made your way towards your shared house, Joel holding your hand, stealing glances at you as you looked towards the ground. 

He would be lying if he said he hasn’t been thinking about it. 

And yeah, maybe it was reckless, he wasn’t the youngest anymore. This world was not the best place to bring new life into. 

And maybe it wouldn’t even work, having a baby.

But as he looked at you, with your shy smile on your lips, he knew he would give you everything you wanted to make you happy. 

Both of you not knowing that that one time almost two months ago when you were out for patrol together and he had fucked you against a tree, the second he had pulled out to late was enough to already have you pregnant. 

But you would found that out a month later. 

[xxxdreamscapexxx]

Only for you

Emo!Wanda Maximoff x FemReader

Word count: 4.2k

Summary: Just the above, but I also added some reader backstory

Warning: Reader backstory including: physical pain, arguing, bullying, mental instability, manipulation, R being held against her will Present time storyline: mutual pining, Unestablished lesbian relationship, slight teasing by the team, jealousy, posessiveness, love confessions, fluff, Happy!Ending <3

Joining the Avengers was a challenge. It wasn’t the constant work outs and strict diet to keep you healthy and strong, it wasn’t even the danger or the threats to your life, even the annoying attempts of the media to follow you and snap pictures of you didn’t bother you that much. They all got buried by the government before they saw the light of day anyway. It was the people. Not that you weren’t grateful to them. They had saved your life after all. Gave you a purpose in life. But… The Avengers were a tough group to get to know and even tougher to live with sometimes. Of course, some preferred having their own homes, like Clint and his family, or the notorious Captain Marvel, that didn’t even live on Earth, and just as expected, those that did live in the tower had their own floors, rooms, offices, so you didn’t even meet them that much, but that just made it even harder to really connect. That’s why Steve insisted on team building activities, training together, even attending Tony’s stupid parties, all in the name of bonding. The man meant well and he really had a big heart, but he just couldn’t see that some of the Avengers had very little in common.

The thing is… You were born a witch. Not from a powerful clan, or with deeply rooted ancestry, and you probably would have stayed that way, had you not made a terrible mistake. Truly, you were just angry at the time. Barely a teenager, who thought she had all the answers. You were arguing with your mother about something, not that you could even remember what for. It was probably so stupid. But you both lost your temper, screaming at each other, until she had sent you to your room. She thought she was de-escalating the situation, giving you both time to calm down. What she didn’t know is that you had been through her collection of spell books and brought them all to your room. So when you slammed the door behind you, stupidly, unthinkingly, you grabbed the books. You weren’t sure what kind of spell you were hoping to find. Just something to make all the emotions inside you stop raging. But you found an absorption spell instead. In your head, you thought that if you just learned this spell and then performed it, you’ll search through the books much faster and then you’d able to do… What? God, you had no idea. Thinking back now, that was such a ridiculous thing to do. But you learned the spell, grabbed the candles you had in your drawer, surrounded yourself with all the books you had taken and just started the chant, hands touching the pages of the books and starting to feel their content seeping into your skin. It stung! That’s what you remember most. The feeling of that black ink seeping into your skin, as if splitting it open to make its way inside, clawing its way in your veins. It hurt so bad, but it wouldn’t stop. You had said the words, and now the spell was doing its work, emptying the pages of the books around you. You tried to pull your hands away, struggled to get it to stop, but it wouldn’t. Every painful second felt like hours. The panic inside you was rising, watching the inky blotches making their way up your arms, crawling like black maggots under your skin, up your shoulders and neck… You were so scared, heart pumping wildly in your chest as you watched it happen, begging for it to finally stop.

But with the end of the spell, you found yourself facing a greater torment. You had taken too much, too fast for your brain to fully comprehend. All the words swirled in your head like a hurricane, making it impossible to distinguish your own thoughts. You tried to calm down, tried to put those racing thoughts in order, trying to meditate, just like your mother had thought you, but it was useless. It wouldn’t stop. In the end, it was your screams that attracted your mother to your room, panicked and scared, just as you were, trying to get you to tell her what you had done, but you couldn’t even put a sentence in order. Your brain was so scrambled, growing more incoherent by the second. Maybe that’s when you passed out? You couldn’t tell. You had very little recollections from that time. The next days were a blur. You don’t remember much. Just your room. Your mother told you that you were consumed by madness. Spewing lines from spells, incoherent and jumbled together. But sometimes you would get one right. She’d had to confine you to your room and bind you with runes, so you wouldn’t start casting without even knowing it. She told you it took you two weeks, before you started to come back to yourself. It was a miracle you even managed it. Some witches never recovered from such a thing. By the time you came back to your school, there were so many rumours about you, people whispering behind your back. You were changed. Thinner, more withdrawn, trying to keep to yourself. But kids were cruel and curious. They teased you, tried to get you to admit why you were missing from school all this time, attacking you, when you tried to ignore them. You should have known it was inevitable that you snapped and did something you’d regret.

It was just before summer break, you thought you had gotten through the worst of it, that you had your emotions under control, practicing every day, just so you could keep all the magic from spilling out. Many people didn’t know, but grimoires weren’t just books full of spells. Each spell, written within the pages was also a tiny bit of magic, leaving its imprint and taking root. You hadn’t just absorbed the knowledge, but the magic too. It was more than you’d ever felt, more than you knew how to control, so you practiced relentlessly. But when pushed, it bubbled to the surface. Fucking Madeleine Dupont, daughter of the Patric Dupont – owner of the biggest, most profitable manufacturing business in town, was obnoxious, spoiled, annoying and with a mean streak wider than her daddy’s newly acquired 23 acres of land for their grand mansion. The girl loved to pick on everyone, but recently, she had set her sights on you and in that fateful day, she and her friends cornered you into an empty classroom, taking drugs out of their pockets and trying to get you to take them. When “gentle” persuasion failed, one of them grabbed you, holding you by the hair and trying to force your face onto a desk, where they had spilled some powder. You didn’t even know what it is. But they started to overpower you, and the tears spilling down your cheeks as you tried to tell them that you didn’t want this, that you needed them to stop, only added to their exhilaration.

They eventually pinned you down, laughing menacingly as they tried to get you to breathe it in and you lost control, pushing them back with your magic, a wave of energy blasting through the whole room, making desks and chairs fly to the ground, just like the girls had done. You tried to reign yourself in, to stop the emotions from taking over, but you were mumbling spells already. You remember just a blast. You remember waking up in a cell, body strapped to a small hospital bed, being pumped full of something. And the woman. She was your “handler” and on most days, the only person you saw or spoke with. She told you what happened. You’d killed those girls. Part of the building collapsed because of what you had done and the rubble crushed them. You must have protected yourself on instinct. Survived it somehow. They were giving you medication, making sure you heal properly. And then your training could begin. They were HYDRA. And they had a special interest in people like you. They made it clear that they weren’t just your supposed saviours, but also your captors. They weren’t going to just let you leave their facility. Instead, they aimed to train you. You were one of the lucky ones. You learned that after you were rescued from that HYDRA base. They never tortured you physically. Instead, they decided that they could break your mind, already weakened by what you’d done to yourself. They aimed to convert you. Half your training was spells and magic, endurance, strength… The other part… That was indoctrination. And they used everything they knew about you just to do it. When you refused to say the right things, they withheld food, when you refused to train, they withheld water… When that didn’t work, they would use threats. Your mother. They weren’t above hurting her to make you behave. They weren’t above killing her, if you didn’t do what you’re told.

You often held out hope that she was looking for you. That she’d find you and save you. But she didn’t have half as much power as you did. And you couldn’t escape them. What luck would she have? Eventually, your only hope of escape was to save yourself and after a few failed attempts, you formed a plan. You did as you were told, said what they needed to hear and you trained. You trained every waking moment, making sure your body and mind would be strong enough to take on all the magic you invited into yourself. That absorption spell? You used it more often, although, you limited the amount of information this time. It always hurt, the headaches after each use were monstrous. But it was all worth it. You were going to get yourself out of there one day. Even if you had to take down the whole base to do it. But it was the Avengers who took it down and helped you out of there. They reunited you with your mother, your family, and after some time, they also offered you a job. A calling. To help people. Those who weren’t as fortunate as you. Those in need. And you said yes. That’s how you ended up in the Avengers tower. Despite the people, it was a lonely place. Few understood what you had been though, fewer still cared for what it had done to you. But you couldn’t blame them. They all had their own lives, their own problems to deal with, their own personal pain to wallow in. Natasha understood. She knew what being a prisoner was like, what it felt like to be forced to do things just to survive. Steve empathised. His big heart and his puppy dog eyes were unbelievably charming and he won you over easily. Clint brought normalcy to everyone’s lives. But most of the others were hard to relate to. Tony meant well, but he had a big mouth and he loved putting his foot in it. Bruce was always in his lab. Vision was kind, but he was also marked by the characteristics of his origin and hard to make a connection with. Thor… Where do you even start with Thor? But there was also Wanda.

She had joined before you, her story similar to yours, yet so different, marked by loss and heartache. She was a kindred spirit and easily a friend. She was a little older than you, her eyeliner thick, her black nail polish often chipped, her hair in a tight ponytail as she walked around the compound and she always smiled when she saw you. As the months passed, the two of you were inseparable, spending every waking moment together. You were one of the two people who wasn’t scared that she’d read your mind, who trusted her good intentions and good heart completely. The other was Vision. They had a bond, an understanding that you didn’t know how to share in. But you were happy that she had him in her corner, because the other Avengers always looked at her suspiciously, or avoided her and you never knew why. Wanda was a sweetheart. Her favorite way to watch sitcoms was with her cuddled up into your side, your fingers playing with her silky hair, that she always let down, when it was just the two of you in the room. And sure, she was a little emo, but you found that adorable. Her smile would only widen, when you’d use one of your many pet names for her and she would blush, when you complimented her cooking. And you used those all the time, because, the thing is, you were in love with her. You were desperately in love with Wanda Maximoff and you were ready to do just about anything to have her smile at you or shower you with her affection. Something she did practically all the time anyway. If the woman wasn’t also fiercely protective and an extremely powerful witch, you’d say she’s a puppy. But none of the others ever agreed, when you said so. They would cower, when she stepped into the room, avoid her eyes, when they needed to speak to her, they would step out of training rooms, when she walked in. You found it baffling. And somehow the treatment extended to you as well. The closer you got to her, the more they kept their distance.

Gone were the days when they would tease you playfully, when they would give you pointers on your techniques, when they would approach you for small gatherings that didn’t involve the whole team and you never knew why. Until today. You walked in the common room, only to find most of the team already there and you greeted them, before you made your way to the adjacent kitchen, listening to their banter as you made breakfast for yourself and Wanda. It was the dynamic you were used to and you were ready to join them, holding the bowls of food in your hands, when you noticed that the noise suddenly died down, replaced by tense silence. “Wanda.” Natasha greeted with a nod. “Natasha.” The younger woman acknowledged, stepping further into the room and scanning it for something. Not that she ever told them what she needs. She looked pissed. Her aura was dark and almost menacing, her shoulders squared, like she was ready for a fight, making everyone on edge and you couldn’t figure out why. “Hi, sweetheart!” You decide to finally greet her, showing yourself from behind the wall you had been standing, while you observed all this. “Sweetheart?” Tony lifted an eyebrow, an amused smile creeping up his lips. Wanda only threw him a glare, but she accepted your hug happily, taking you into her arms and when you pulled away, she only let you turn into her hold, facing the group, while her hands stayed firmly around you. “Let’s go have breakfast in my room.” She suggested in your ear, ready to practically drag you out of there. “Why not join all of us for breakfast?” Steve raised his voice, gesturing to the big table he was already sitting at. “That’d be nice.” You nodded, before Wanda had any chance to refuse. “Come on, Wands, I already fixed you a bowl.” You told her. “Yes, Wands, we haven’t seen you in ages.” Tony agrees, emphasising the nickname you had used.

Feeling like she didn’t have much of a choice, Wanda agreed, sitting next to you and pulling your chair practically into her side, so she’d have you as close to her as she could, while she ate quietly. But the team felt like they had stumbled onto something. They had felt the shift in mood within her, as soon as she saw you and they weren’t going to let it go so easily. At first they tried their playful banter on her, asking her about her day, about her interests, about her training, just anything to see a reaction, but none actually came. It was only when you spoke that she would light up. She would smile, when she listened to you, when she forgot that it wasn’t just the two of you in the room. But it was the little blush that showed on her cheeks, when you called her “darling” that first sparked an idea within them. “Hey, Y/N, I hear you tried your hand against Cap here.” Bucky stared off, attracting your attention. “Tried being the key word. Hand to hand I don’t stand a chance, but with a little magic…” You trailed off, shrugging. “Who knows…” “Yeah?” His smile widens. “Well, if you’re looking for a challenge, join me for a spar this afternoon.” He invited. “She’s training with me this afternoon.” Wanda practically growled, looking up from her bowl for just a second, to stare down Bucky. Her glare was murderous. “That’s too bad, I was hoping for a little magic.” The man said, obviously bating Wanda. “Then perhaps you should train with me. I have magic.” Wanda snarled, summoning a ball of energy between her fingers for a moment, just to get her point across and luckily, the man was smart enough to back off. “Well, if you’re busy training, perhaps I can finally take dear Y/N to get a proper costume. The two of you can’t keep borrowing my leather jackets and pretend that it’s a real suit.” Natasha interjected. “What do you say dear?” She asked, her voice dropping an octave. “I already have some ideas in mind. You can try them on for me.” She suggested, noting the way Wanda’s knuckles turned white around her spoon. “And I’m sure Tony can make some improvements.” “Oh yeah.” The man chimed in, happy to take his own turn teasing Wanda. “I’ll have to get your measurements of course. To make sure it fits perfectly.” He says casually, but the idea of it makes Wanda’s blood boil. “She’s busy today.” Wanda retorts, before you even get a chance to open your mouth and you find yourself surprised to see her so tense. “Tomorrow perhaps.” Tony shrugs, taking on Wanda’s glare. “I’ll make time for her.” He adds. “She’s mine.” Wanda snaps, raising from her seat and balling her fists. “What was that?” Tony pretends not to hear her, smirking at the pissed off witch. “I said, she’s mine.” Wanda grits out, turning to you, ready to drag you out of the room.

It’s then that she realizes what she had said. That you were right there next to her, looking at her with a mixture of disbelief and hopefulness. The thing is, Wanda was desperately in love with you too. She was also, as the team quickly started to realize, extremely possessive, and she wasn’t going to watch every man and woman in the room flirt with you. The only problem was that she hadn’t told you all that. Scared to ruin your friendship and loose you for good, she opted for hiding her feelings, which only intensified her jealousy. She hadn’t staked her claim on you and it made her scared that someone else might. So every time you weren’t with her, she’d be on edge, lurking in corners, sending people glares whenever they spoke to you, hoping to keep them away until she could finally tell you how she felt. Such behaviour had earned her a reputation in the Tower as grumpy, and since everyone knew how dangerous she could be, they tried to stay away. Now, however, cornered and taken by surprise, she had let it slip. And you were right next to her, so it was impossible that you didn’t hear her earlier words. “Y/N…” She stutters, taken aback. “I didn’t mean… I…” She stumbled over her words. And the audience didn’t help in the slightest. She felt crowded. Tony’s smug smirk seemed to taunt her, Bucky and Steave sharing a knowing giggle between them, Natasha, who somehow looked unphased and simply amused at the whole scene, it was all overwhelming. And then, there was you. Shocked at what you’d heard and looking at her in disbelief. God, she needed to get out of there… Before she had a chance to say much else, before she could think it all through, she stormed out. She didn’t even know how she ended up in the hallway, her legs carrying her on their own, when she heard your voice. “Wanda!” You were calling out her name, jogging slightly to catch up to her. “Wanda, please wait!” You called out again, seemingly not for the first time. “Please, we should talk about this.” You said, watching her stop, so she could wait for you. “I’m so sorry, Y/N…” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I had to get out of there.” She tried to say, her voice shaking a little with all the emotions that were raging inside her. “It’s ok. I understand.” You nodded, taking her hand, so you could help her feel more grounded.

The small touch between you, just the feeling of your hand in hers felt electrifying and she easily took the other one as well, pulling you close, until she could have you in her arms, securing you in a tight embrace and making you look up at her. “You don’t understand.” She said, hands shaking. “I’m so in love with you. I have been for months now. And I was so scared to tell you, so scared of loosing you, that I just…” She paused, struggling to find the right words. “And the way they were talking to you, the way they all looked at you… I can’t stand the thought of anyone else having you. I want you to be mine. I want you all to myself. I want to fall asleep next to you and wake up with you in my arms, I want to spend every day showing you that I love you. I want… You!” She confessed, her arms tightening around you, as if you’d escape her grasp somehow. “Oh, Wanda…” You whispered, a gentle smile farming on your lips as you watched her eyes sparkle. “I’ve been in love with you too. And I didn’t know how to tell you…” You said, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. The moment felt heavy, thick with emotions as you both stood frozen in time, eyes glued to the other, when suddenly a voice, startled you both. “Maximoff, kiss the girl already!” Tony said smugly, followed by cheers from the people around him. Were they watching you on the hallway cameras this whole time? Not that you had time to think about that, when Wanda was leaning closer, her eyes flashing red, before she shortened the distance between you both, until she was only a breath away. Her features were so different now, she was smiling as she held you, biting her lips, eyes full of adoration and longing.

When she finally placed her lips on yours, a gentle caress at first, it felt like you were in heaven. You had wished for this moment for so long, imagined it every night, before you fell asleep, dreamt of it and longed for it and it was finally happening and you just couldn’t get enough. When she felt your eager lips on hers, Wanda didn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss, tongue darting out, asking for permission to taste you further and mingling with yours, once you allowed her access. It was only when she pushed you against the nearest wall, trapping your body with hers, that you finally paused. “We’re giving everyone a show.” You reminded her, head pointing to the camera in the corner. “Never.” Wanda smirked, her magic flashing once more, to show you that she had disabled the feed, before you even kissed. “Only I’m allowed to see you like this. I would never share you with anyone else.” She said with a note of possessiveness that you were growing to love, the more you saw it. She kissed you again. And then again, greedy hands squeezing your hips. She could never get enough of you. She felt drunk on you and only reluctantly pulled away when you both needed to breathe. “We should get back.” You said reluctantly. “Let’s go to my room instead. We’ll take it slow. We don’t have to do anything. I just want you all to myself.” She suggested. “I don’t want to share you.” “Wait… Is that why everyone thinks you’re so grumpy?” You suddenly realized, remembering countless times, when Wanda has wanted your undivided attention, skipping events and avoiding people. She didn’t say anything, but at this point you didn’t need her to. “We should show them how wrong they are. You’re amazing and warm and loving and sweet and I want everyone to know that.” You told her honestly. “But we’ll go to my room after?” She held you firmly, refusing to let you go just yet. “Yes, we’ll go to your room after.” You nodded happily. “I’ll even let you pick what we’re watching.” You added teasingly. Wanda smiled, pulling away just enough to let you straighten yourself and she held your hand, letting you guide her back to the common room, watching your hips sway seductively. It was sweet, she thought, that you believed she’d be wasting her time with sitcoms, when she could finally have you the way she’s wanted you for so long… _______________________________________________________ Hi, dear anon. I hope that you are happy with the story you got for your request! <3

[grahambaham]

Controversial opinion, especially for any Jason Todd fans out there (I'm one of them), but I completely understand why the fans in, the 80' I think, voted to kill him off. Hear me out, okay?

Jason was at first a literal Dick Grayson copy, was legit given his backstory and personality with the name being the only change. And for a while that was all they knew about and, rightfully so, hated about him. Now I'm not sure whether he was given the whole Alley kid who tried to steal Batman's tire story before or after his death but either way, in those fans' minds, Jason Todd was just a boring replica of Dick Grayson and no one liked him. If I was alive and a fan back then, I honestly would have done the same thing.

WHICH IS WHY I HAVE SUCH A HUGE PROBLEM WITH THE WRITERS DOING TO JASON THE EXACT SAME THING THAT GOT HIM KILLED OFF BEFORE!!!

Jason immediately after getting brought back to life was a villain. He wasn't misguided, he wasn't an antihero, my man was a Villain with a capital V. He didn't protect workings girls or children from any drugs or anything, he just made one off hand comment to a guy not to sell to kids and that's it. One of his only interactions with any prostitutes is to mock her for her past and decisions that led to her becoming one. Bruce did not abuse him or attack him unfairly. Jason had not only tried to kill Joker or other horrible villains, he killed anyone whether they were rapists, or robbers, or petty fucking thieves and he didn't do it for justice or whatever the fuck but because he was angry and taking it out on everyone he could get his hands on. He stopped Batman from going after Nightwing after Bludhaven blew up with him in it. He blew up a school. He beat up Tim in his little Robin panties and was a fucking villain.

I love Jason. But I love him as the messed up asshole he is. Not as some misguided wittle antihero. Which is why I despise the fact that the fandom latched onto the completely inaccurate version of him, because the writers of DC had started writing him the way the fandom wanted and he is now irreversibly ruined. Aside from the already mentioned stuff, they made him into a copy of Dick Grayson (for the second fucking time) and Helena Bertinelli.

Helena is the one protecting women and children, the antihero that often uses violent force. She's the one with the reluctant sibling relationship with Tim. Jason was not Tim's Robin by the way, Dick was. Tim does not like Jason one fucking bit and spends most of their forced interactions roasting him so bad he has to buy burn salves. Also her personality was taken and given to Jason in some ways too, like her manner of speech and stuff, but I'm willing to let that slide as accidental.

From Dick Grayson, they mostly took his relationships, romantic and platonic. Jason slept with Barbara and Kori both, which aside from just being dumb as hell is also weird and creepy because Jason is six years younger than them at least and they knew him as a fourteen year old when they were at least twenty, and they would never date someone so much younger than them, they aren't fucking creeps. Then they took Starfire and Arsenal and made them forget their own lives to join Jason's little antihero team (neither of them are antiheroes what the fuck) and act like the sun shines out of Jason's ass and he's their leader or some shit when they would never follow him before that, especially Roy who has led so many other teams and does not deserve that shit. Some fans also ship him and Jason, which is both creepy and character assassination for Roy's entire character more than him being friends with Jason and in the Outlaws already is.

Also, Pit Madness is not a thing you fucking brainless losers. Stop trying to justify and erase the flaws that make him an interesting character. His anger has always been due to the trauma of being tortured and dying and the misguided feeling of betrayal he felt for Bruce. He was unwell and taking his problems out on others. So, repeat after me: PIT MADNESS IS NOT A REAL THING!!!

Thank you for reading <3

[meowmeowriley]

Unhinged and unnecessary HC to rationalize the punk Ghost skin incoming!

It's not Ghost. Ta da! Listen. Listen. I understand. Ghost, being someone devoted to the crown, wouldn't wear the anarchy symbol. And if given the comic backstory (as I always will) Ghost most likely would hate punk music because of his father.

So why punk Ghost? It's not Ghost. It's his son. His and Johnny's. Maybe he's blood, maybe not. Doesn't really matter. They raised the boy. He's theirs. And he resents the crown and the military for how it broke his fathers. Maybe he lost them both, either together or at different times. Maybe they died in the field, or in the hospital due to complications from an injury they got on the job. Maybe they didn't even die, they were injured and dismissed and tossed aside like trash. Whatever the reason, he's angry.

So he joins up with some men who stand for everything his fathers didn't. Fuck their militaristic peace bullshit. It starts small, protests and parties mostly. But then as he finds himself getting closer with the others, he's asked to take part in some extracurriculars. Raids on police and military caravans. Harmless, he tells himself. Good even, they're preventing those in power from enforcing their tyranny, he rationalizes. Things get more radical the longer he's in. Things escalate. He's in too deep. They're a resistance group. They fight back. He looks back on the combat training his fathers pushed on him at a young age more fondly now, as it served him and his purposes well.

He doesn't see how he's exactly like his fathers, won't let himself. But he is. Just a man who follows orders and fights tooth and nail. But he does love his fathers. He misses them. He takes up Simon's mask and Johnny's hairstyle, incorporates them into his look. Makes them his own. An attempt to honor them, despite their different stances on how to do good.

A mission, he's stopped hating when they're referred to as missions a while ago, has himself and his team breaking into a military research facility to investigate and destroy what they found. A new weapon to hurt innocent people, he was sure. Except it wasn't, exactly.

Teleportation? Couldn't be real. He read the files with an air of disbelief. He was distracted, rookie mistake, a scientist gave him a shove, he fell into the teleporter. The man shouted something about finally having a human test subject and slapped his hand down on a button. A flash of blinding light enveloped him, and suddenly he found himself in a hallway. Disoriented, he walked about, trying to figure out where he was.

A man in a bucket hat rounded the corner ahead of him and stopped, looking him up and down with an exasperated sigh. "Ghost what the fuck are you wearing this time?" Ghost. His dad's callsign. This man thought he was his dad. What would his dad do in this situation.

He narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. That should do it. Thankfully his sleeves were down covering his tattoos. They were different from Simon's and could've given him away.

"Whatever. Come on then." The man kept walking and he did his best to imitate Simon's walk. His mind raced, an obvious military man thought he was his own dad was worrisome, as the old man was gone, and he needed to get away without arousing suspicion. He'd have to play along then.

That plan went tits up the second he followed the bucket hat man into a room and found himself face to face with his fathers. His fathers who were able bodied and young, same age as himself.

The teleporter hadn't just sent him somewhere else, but had sent him back in time as well.

Johnny roughly ripped off his mask and slammed him against the wall. "Who the FUCK are you?!" Simon menacingly slid a knife out of his sleeve and deftly twirled it around his fingers. Right. They weren't his dads yet, just the crowns attack dogs.

[transformers-spike]

https://www.tumblr.com/transformers-spike/786322805317828608/ohh-my-gawd-let-me-rant-rq-do-you-have-any-idea?source=share

okay, NOW I'M CURIOUS.

So Spike, the last bit when you mentioned that IF Megatrons sparkling becomes a prime, he'll either change for the better and possibly end this billion years of war. Or his sparkling has to eventually remove themselves from their sires legacy.

If that last part were the case, it leaves the sparkling having to "betray" their sire and possibly join the autobots would really messed up Megatron hard. It's literally a slapped in the face hard because his sparkling becomes a prime?! He swears the thirteens are mocking him! I have a feeling the human mother would be relieved knowing that their child won't become like HIM.

Okay, but does anyone ever wonder HOW did the sparkling becomes a Prime?? I have no prior knowledge how's one consider Prime material, but I did have this headcanon rotting in my mind last night what could potentially happened.

• The TFP have similar backstory as TFO

• both OP and Meg have hybrid sparklings from human S/O

• lion king 2 type sht

• those two sparklings fall in love ( I'm making them both femme )

• idk how, but in the end both OP and Meg have a battle duel

• when Meg was about to shoot OP, his daughter steps in and Meg accidentally shot her instead of OP. (👀 deja vu Megatron?)

•Meg in agony cradle his sparkling, as his daughter begs him weakly to stop this war.

• idk after that but that got to be Prime material enough, right?

Yeah, that's all I got. I'll LUV to hear people's hc and thoughts about this in the comments. :DD

oh my god - listen if this happens Megatron will become CONVINCED Optimus and his spawn turned his sparkling against him

He is absolutely crushed and traumatized when it happens, and unlike TFO Megatron, he won't let go - he'll cradle his daughter's frame while shaking

Bro if this happens he will tear the entire world apart even if she comes back (as a Prime no less).

[usherdownthesky]

Rating: General Audiences

Category: F/M

Relationships: Gale & OC Tav

Words: A LOT (7261)

Tags/Warnings: OC Backstory No One Else Cares About, Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Flirting, Nudity, Skinny Dipping, Sensuality, Kisses, Minor Blood and Injury, Introspection, Gale Gets A Darcy Moment, NOT A BOT I JUST LOVE EM DASHES OKAY JESUS

Contains non-explicit physical intimacy and light references to past suicidal thoughts. A celebration of ripped Gale, silver fox Gale, heterochromatic Gale

And typos, probably. I always see them too late.

Summary:

As Tavania reckons with her past and the idea of moving on from her intense loss, a chance midnight encounter with Gale leads them to a place of honest discussion and unguarded closeness-of the physical and emotional variety. As they stand at the brink of becoming something far more, Tav finds herself falling--but Gale still harbours dark secrets that threaten to tear it all apart.

AKA non-Origin Gale gets to touch an Act 1 boob maybe?

I'm posting it here in its entirety for people who might prefer to read on Tumblr, BUT IT'S LONG Y'ALL. UNFURL THE POST AT YOUR PERIL.

and she never wrote anything ever again.

For the third night in a row, Tavania could not sleep.

Every rock beneath her flimsy bedroll might as well have been a boulder—every blade of grass a longsword, piercing her through. Even her skin felt irritated—not exactly feverish, but hot and tingly, like when she was little and her brother used to amuse himself by grabbing her arm and twisting her skin in both directions until she cried out. Given the circumstances, it was hard not to think back on Gale's graphic descriptions of ceremorphosis, all splitting skin and elongation, and wonder if this was finally it.

You're being ridiculous, she told herself. If she was changing, Lae'zel would already be upon her, knife at the ready, boot on her neck. No; this agitation was wholly her own.

She glanced at Gale's tent. The flap was open so she could see him inside, seemingly fast asleep, an occasional soft snore and unintelligible murmur rising from him. A pang of longing precipitated a mad urge to join him. She pictured herself pressed up against his back, arms around his middle as she buried her face into his hair to drown in the sweet, smoky musk of him… How swiftly rest would find her there, she thought. How happily.

Sighing, Tav rolled onto her back to stare up at the cloudless sky. By the hang of the bright, full moon, she guessed that dawn was still several hours away—too many to spend wallowing in her various frustrations. A walk, she decided, kicking out of the thin blanket tangled about her knees; a quick stroll would burn off some nervous energy and help clear her head.

If only it were that easy.

She slipped from camp, crossed the stream and followed its winding shore, skirting the denser parts of the forest. Ever since she was little, the very idea of the woods had terrified her. Too many storybooks full of bandits and goblins, ravenous wolves and child-eating hags, she supposed. Having faced down all those things and more in the last tenday alone, it seemed a silly thing to be afraid of now. Besides, if life had taught her anything, it was that the worst things that could happen to a person often occurred in places they thought themselves most safe: their homes, their beds—inside their own hearts and minds. What was a common hag next to those, most intimate of betrayals?

Still—one could never be too careful.

The stream eventually widened into a small lake that spilled in a misty froth over a crag into the wild river several dozen feet below. Not yet ready to return, Tav followed the cliff edge up out of the forest hollow to a desolate granite bluff high above the treeline. The climb turned out to be much steeper than it had looked from the ground, and the humid night air was as tepid as a cup of forgotten tea, so by the time she reached the ledge she was panting, dripping with sweat, and her legs had gone to jelly.

Tav stood at the edge of the bluff while she caught her breath and was surprised to see how far she had come. All she could make out of the camp from here was a few errant slivers of orange glow, flickering through the forest shroud. On the livid horizon several leagues beyond, the twisted hulk of the rotting nautiloid loomed, its cursed bowels still smouldering more than a tenday after the crash. As they headed up into the mountains in search of Lae'zel's fabled creche—a lead Tav had little reason to believe would bear fruit—she wondered grimly if they would ever escape the wretched thing's monstrous shadow.

She closed her eyes, putting it out of her mind.

Midnight stillness pressed in around her. The silence was uncanny—so thick, even the rush of the river could not penetrate it. A feeling of unease crept along her spine, of trespass, as if in her rush to escape her troubles she had accidentally slipped somewhere she should not be. A place between worlds, not meant for anyone.

Not the living, anyway.

It was not an altogether new sensation. Time and again over the years, at the lowest points of her life, she had found herself here: poised precariously on the edge of some great precipice or another, gazing deep into the face of grim oblivion. One foot in the warm, pulsing present. The other—

The breeze pushed against her back. Tav stretched out her arms and began to unconsciously lean forward. A dizzying sense of lightness swept over her. Calm; pleasant, almost. One good gust and she would be gone.

There was a time, not so very long ago, she would have welcomed it. Not out of despair, exactly, but something more like fatigue—need of a decisive push from some power greater than herself, toward a freedom she did not have the strength to reach for on her own.

The difference was that now, she knew how it felt to fall. It was not what she had always imagined—a wild, liberating plunge into nothingness. No; it was horror, and helplessness. A grand unravelling, time stretched thin to reveal its insides, which contained only regret. Not a single, clean moment of it but a turbulent flood seething with life’s debris. Every chance not taken, every song unsung. No absolution waited at flight’s end—only a bloody exclamation point, rammed violently into the middle of a sentence not yet finished.

The impulse was no longer there. In its place, she found the blunt ache of something far more terrifying:

Hope.

Tav’s eyes snapped open. As she took a gasping leap back from the rocky edge, another realisation hit her, a bolt of the most exquisite agony exploding beneath her ribs: she had not thought of her sister in days. Not since the assault on the goblin camp, their first dashed hopes for a cure, the party, and—

Gale.

So consumed with the business of living, she had had no time for the dead.

All her life, no matter where she was, how much time or distance or twist of circumstance separated them, Tav had never gone a day without thinking of her twin. Long before she was a wound, Lavinia was a lifeline, the pair of them so deeply tangled up in one another, it was impossible to tease them apart. The end, when it came—sudden, brutal, final—left a gaping hole; a hollow space where Tav’s second heart used to beat.

She had tried to fill that space with her sister's memory, holding on to whatever she could like a cherished song, stitching the tatters of her own life around the rhythm of the loss.

But Tav should have known better. She should have known that a song could not be caged, any more than a memory could be made to endure, and both could eventually turn sour.

But what if she kept forgetting?

What if the days she did not think of Lavinia began to outweigh the ones she did?

What would be left of her?

What if she dared to let herself feel something other than her grief?

What if she already had?

You're allowed to have a life, some other, treacherous part of her mind interjected. Haven't you punished yourself enough?

Tav sucked in a wet, trembling breath. Guilt was a difficult lesson to unlearn; moving on was just a different kind of loss.

She remained a while longer, watching the spill of Selune's Tears turn overhead in a sleepy echo of her own. When she finally set off for home, sorrow and slumber dragged on her limbs, leaving her leaden and off-balance. Halfway down the craggy slope, her foot struck loose granite, shifting and giving way beneath her. Tav fell hard on her left side and slid, jerking to an eventual stop at the brink of the sheer drop into the roiling river below.

It took a moment to register that she had stopped sliding. That she was still alive. She lay a there, breathing in ragged gasps, until the pain caught up with her, dull crimson waves rushing up her left side.

Groaning, she pushed herself upright, held her arm toward the moonlight and peeled away her tattered sleeve with a trembling hand to reveal a raw graze that stretched all the way from wrist to elbow. Blood oozed to the surface in bright, wet jewels.

“Shit,” she whimpered.

As she struggled to her feet, the hazy throb sharpened into searing white blades that stabbed her in the hip and knee with every step. Involuntary sobs slipped from her throat as she limped on, wishing even one of her friends were here with her.

Shadowheart, with a timely healing spell.

Wyll, with a sturdy shoulder to lean on.

Karlach, with a rousing 'C'mon, soldier! Knees up!' for encouragement.

Gale, with a tender touch, that charming smile, a story spun in golden tones to help her forget her pain…

Oh, Gale…

You don't need them, she told herself, wiping her wet cheeks with a filthy hand.

No. She didn’t need them. She could make it on her own, as she always had.

But wouldn't it be nice? To not have to fight so hard for every inch? To have someone to laugh or commiserate with? Someone to catch her when she inevitably fell again? Just because she could manage on her own did not mean she needed to.

The contrarian within made no reply.

Back on level ground, Tavania hobbled to the lake’s edge and lowered herself with a grimace, her swelling knee protesting every inch of the way. She dipped her arm, hissing at the sting, but once the initial shock subsided, found the water was pleasantly warm and soothing. Inviting, even.

It was late.

She should get back, take a potion, get some rest.

Instead, she began tugging off her boots. Peeled off her bloodied blouse. Trousers next. With her hands poised at her hips, she hesitated, scanning the tree line, half-expecting a bugbear to come charging out of the shadows—her luck would run that way. But the woods remained still and so, with a laugh, she slipped her underwear down and left the whole lot in a heap upon the shore, wading out until she was hip-deep. There, she sank, stretching out her legs to let the water carry their weight, and leaned back on her elbows. She dipped below the glossy surface, washing the dirt and sweat from her hair in a single breath.

Relief was immediate and complete.

Moments of calm like this had become such a rarity. She was not made for all this…adventure, as the others so frivolously called it; horror was the word she would choose. The things she had seen this week; the things she had done. The things she feared she would need to do if she was to survive this…

It was little wonder she could not sleep.

Each night when she sat down to the evening meal, all she could taste was blood and brimstone. She would chew and swallow in silence, forcing it down without betraying her distaste to the others, all the while wondering: Why her?

What was she next to a fierce githyanki warrior; the Blade of Frontiers; a veteran of the Hells; or the archmage of Waterdeep?

Just a stray witch and musician long without a vital muse. A scrap of worthless by-catch tangled in a net full of far more valuable prizes. Every time she was forced to raise her hands and reach for that murky well of untamed power inside of her, it felt like reciting a prayer in a foreign tongue to a god whose name she did not know, hoping that her graceless fumbling would not be mistaken for blasphemy.

Admittedly, Gale's instruction had been helping. The somatic gestures he had her practice as they walked provided her with much-needed focus, and she could feel them beginning to settle into her bones. In some ways, it was like breaking in a new instrument: painful and stilted for the first while, but then one day, the hands simply knew what to do.

Tav winced, that uncomfortable tightness from earlier returning, twisting its way inside of her thoughts as they gathered predictably around him, and more specifically, their would-be kiss.

A ripe piece of stupidity on her part. Impulsive. Destructive. So like her. Tav wished she could take it back, forget the feel of his satiny lips and breathless need, the roughness of his beard and the hungry fumble of phantom hands… Gods. It had not even happened, yet it haunted her more vividly than some of her actual memories. Even now, as she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend it was his thumb tracing slow, yearning circles along her hip and not her own.

That night, he had left her without any real explanation—only half-mumbled apologies. Things had felt…different since, in a way that transcended simple embarrassment. Outwardly, they had carried on as if it never happened—which it technically hadn’t, no matter how lurid her daydreaming—but subtle cracks had sprung up between them. The way his eyes often avoided meeting hers, and the distance in them when they did, as if his mind were miles away. The careful stiffness of his speech, as if he had wound himself back to the day they met, that polished version of himself—polite, but not completely honest.

A guardedness she knew all too well.

“Cheer up, old girl,” she said, lifting a hand to watch the water rain down her arm. “Could be dead tomorrow, and all this fretting will be for nothing.”

A sound tore through the stillness: the snapping of a twig in the woods somewhere behind her.

Heart hammering, Tav surged to her feet. White-hot pain lanced up her leg, but she barely registered it, her body operating on instinct. With no blade and no armour, she turned instead to flame. Magic surged through her, fierce and primal, but she caught it on her fingertips, dancing through movements Gale had taught her, graceful and sure. The fire burst to life, bright, ready. As was she, drawing back her arm on a held her breath, poised to strike.

A flicker of silver at the treeline caught her eye. A figure, tall and slender, ducking behind the trunk of an ancient cedar.

“Astarion!” she called, instantly vexed by his intrusion. “I see you!”

A hand shot out from behind the oak, the long, elegant fingers gilded in familiar rings. A voice followed, yelling, “Easy! It’s only—” He paused. “Wait—Astarion?”

“Gale?”

Tav’s stomach dropped. What in the hells was he doing here? Had she…summoned him, somehow? In her mindless yearning, had she perhaps accidentally whispered his name too loudly into the Weave? Was that…could that even happen? Gods—what if she had projected something? Again.

“Yes, Gale! You were expecting Astarion?” he cried, his voice pitching high and then cracking apart like skim ice beneath the heel of the other man's name.

“I wasn't expecting anyone,” she snapped. The fireball flared, casting wild shadows across the trees as the heat licked down her arm. “But if anyone was going to be skulking about at this hour like a woodlands pervert—”

“Not skulking! Approaching! Very cautiously, I might add! Speaking of which, would you mind, terribly, putting that out? I would do it myself, but fear that would be awfully nude—rude! I meant rude!”

Tavania blinked.

“Oh, gods!” she yelped, dropping like a stone into the water with a splash, a sizzle and a grey curl of steam.

“Much obliged!” Gale waved again. “I’ll just—turn around and be on my way!”

“Wait—!” She arranged herself into a modest crouch, arms folded over her naked breasts and released a resigned sigh. “You might as well come over here.”

Crickets chirped. An owl hooted. Water burbled apathetically over the rocks.

“…Are you certain?”

“No,” Tav barked, her cheeks burning, “but you’re already here, and I’m already mortified, so—yes. Unless you'd rather summon the entire Sword Coast with our shouting?”

“No! No…” Gale poked his head out from behind the tree—only far enough to reappraise the situation. “Very well. I'm coming over—I shall avert my eyes!” he announced, then extended one long leg from his hiding place. “Here I come, ready or—well, just ready, I hope!”

She dipped her head, snorting a laugh into the crook of her elbow and muttered, with glowing affection, “Idiot.”

True to his word, Gale kept his eyes fixed with studious intent on the ground for the entirety of his theatrical passage, coming to an eventual halt beside her pile of clothing. Her underwear sat on top like a flag of surrender—practically waving at him. Tav bit the inside of her cheek to stifle a sound—half laugh, half whimper; altogether a nightmare.

Gale rocked stiffly on his heels, arms folded so tightly across his chest, he looked as though he might vanish into himself.

“What are you doing here, Gale?”

“Looking for you, of course,” he replied, brows twitching together as if he did not understand the question—why it needed asking.

He drew a short breath before elaborating.

“I woke and saw your bedroll was empty. At first, I presumed you'd gone to relieve yourself, or some such. When you didn't return in a timely fashion, I…well.” Gale hesitated. When he spoke again, his voice bore all the weight and frailty of a grave confession. “I was worried.”

Tav looked away.

Of course he was worried. From the moment they’d met, just a fortnight ago—though it felt like far longer—he had been watching out for her. Not always in loud or obnoxious ways, but with a simple and steady presence he wove around her like a magical armour. A healing potion, pushed into her hand before she could ask; a soft word to bind her together when her nerves or temper threatened to fray her all apart. Always hot on her heels whenever she hurled herself into danger, his concern for her safety often eclipsing any thought for his own. Always loitering at her side after a fight, helping her to her feet when she needed it, steadying her, making sure she was still whole.

Kindness like his had always made her wary; in her experience, it never came without cost. Gale’s did. Not once had he demanded anything from her. When he had asked for help, it was with open heart and open hands, without guile or expectation; she had been all too happy to give him what he needed.

She was willing to give him a great deal, as it turned out.

Now here he was, trembling nervously in the dark because she had gone missing, and he had noticed. And she had nearly set him on fire for his troubles.

“I couldn’t sleep. Decided to take a walk,” she said, guilt twisting keenly in her gut. “I didn’t mean to be gone so long, I’m sorry. For worrying you—and for almost fireballing you.”

“I'm merely relieved you're all right.” He glanced up, smiling so warmly it made her shiver.

“It was an impressive fireball, by the way,” he added as an aside. “A little…enthusiastic, toward the end, but you held onto it expertly and your form was—well. Exquisite.” He paused. “Not that I was admiring your…form, or…” He trailed off into a timid, almost silent whine.

A smirk tugged at her lip, more delight than embarrassment; she knew he would not offer such praise lightly. Whatever else he may or may not have noticed in the course, she opted not to address.

“You're an excellent teacher.”

“I know,” he murmured, absently prodding the sand with the toe of his boot. Then, almost to himself: “Though you’re the first to say so.”

An easy hush fell over them. Tav’s knee began to ache again, and she was about to say something when Gale lifted his head and glanced around.

“Lovely spot, this.”

“Yes.”

“How is the water? I must say, it looks…”

He turned back, his gaze locking onto hers—sharp, steady. In the moonlight, she caught the quick bob of his throat as he swallowed.

“…rather enticing.”

Heat flushed through her, from her scalp down to her toes. The way he looked at her now, clear and unflinching, was precisely how she had hoped he might after their magical kiss. The look of a man who knew exactly what he wanted: to be here. With her.

If only she would ask.

The words slipped from her lips, barely louder than a whisper. “Come see for yourself.”

A slow smile spread across his face as he raised a hand to his shoulder and the three toggles that secured the front of his robe. His eyes never left hers as he painstakingly worked the first two loose. At the third, he faltered. “Forgive me, but would you mind…?” With his free hand, he made a small circle.

“Hardly seems fair,” Tav said with a mock pout, “but fine—I'll even close my eyes.”

A chuckle followed her as she turned awkwardly in place—more of a waddle, really—though she was not sure why she was still concerned with her own modesty when it was clear he had seen…well, enough.

From behind her came the rustle of falling fabrics, the unsnapping of boot buckles. A muttered 'Bollocks!' and then the crunch of gravelly sand.

“Stuck, wizard?” she teased. ”Need a hand?”

“Hah! Never living that down, am I?” he replied. “I think I've quite enough, thank you…for now.”

Tavania smiled and shook her head, a rosy fondness unfolding within her. This was what she had missed these past days of fracture—his lopsided charm, playfulness, his endearing fumbling. The way things were when it was just the two of them, without pretense or pressure to perform.

Her smile faltered—maybe that was the thing that most unsettled her, keeping her awake at night: how easy it was to miss him.

A splash at the shore broke her meditation, followed by a subtle pull in her blood, like the tugging of a loose thread, and a tingling at the nape of her neck. Magic; he was casting something. Curious, Tav cracked one eye open in time to see a handful of pale blue lights scatter like marbles across the bed of the lake, illuminating the depths in a fuzzy, dreamlike glow. Then Gale, diving into the water after them. The light clung to him, shimmering over his bare skin like a divine blessing as his body cut through the water with effortless grace, muscles rippling in a symphony of strength and radiance. For just a moment, she did not see a mortal man, but a godly being stitched together from ancient threads, older and more elemental than time itself. Every line, every muscle, every glorious inch of him woven out of raw, living magic—awe and power incarnate.

Tav forgot how to breathe.

She had never seen a more beautiful man in all her life.

He surfaced with a gasp in the inky heart of the lake, then rolled onto his back with a satisfied sigh, arms flung wide. There he drifted, his hair fanned out around him in a silver crown. As he stared serenely up at the starry sky, moonlight caressed his face with the delicate reverence of a lover’s hand, and Tav felt another pang, her longing this time envious, wishing she were the moon.

She smiled, unable to help herself; he looked so utterly content.

That was the puzzle of Gale of Waterdeep. He was all charm and warmth, quick with a quip to ease the tension or cast light on an otherwise dim moment—but his levity rarely tarried. Over his carefully curated exterior lay an untold sorrow, worn like a threadbare cloak. It suited him, in a way—the thoughtful furrow etched permanently between his brows lent him a sort of scholarly gravitas—but it made her heart ache. Tav did not know yet the exact shape of his burdens, only that it resonated deeply within her. On her coldest days, she selfishly wanted nothing more than to lift the corner of his grey shawl, crawl inside and hold him so that they might find some warmth together.

“You look quite in your element,” she called to him, grimacing as she finally relented, unfolding her limbs and easing back into a comfortable recline. “I didn't realise the ‘of Waterdeep’ was so literal.”

Gale laughed. “A mere stroke of serendipity. Though I do love to swim. It's the closest thing in this mortal plane to experiencing the freedom and lightness of true ethereal delight.”

He stilled as he said this, his tone shifting into wistful lament, as if floating in bleak pool of memory. The moment passed swiftly as the blinking away of a tear. With a splash, he rolled over onto his side and began to swim toward her.

“My tower in Waterdeep overlooks the sea, which is terribly convenient,” he continued, stopping to tread water at the edge of the shallows. “No better way to begin the day than with a cold plunge, in my estimation. Thoroughly invigorating—for body and mind.”

Tav tried to picture it. Gale, rising with the dawn, the salt breeze tugging through his hair as he dove from his tower steps—but her own memories of that city, blurred by time and shrouded in youthful regret, muddied the waters. She backed away.

“Sounds lovely,” she said, a bittersweet taste remaining on her tongue.

“Perhaps, someday, I can show you what I mean.”

Their eyes met briefly. There was something so fragile about it, hopeful and hurting all at once. Possibility cobbled together from wisps of nothing: vivid enough to almost be convincing, but ephemeral and formless. Another well-crafted illusion.

Gale shattered it with an abrupt clearing of his throat. “What about you? Do you swim?”

“I grew up a ways inland—more than day’s walk east of Baldur’s Gate,” she said, now watching her fingers make swirls across the surface of the water. “There was the river nearby, but we were forbidden from going near it; three children were swept away in a storm surge the summer Lavinia and I turned two.”

“Oh,” he said quietly. “My—how awful.”

Tavania nodded. “Two of them were our closest neighbours; the older boy was friends with my brother. He could easily have gone with them that day had my father not needed help fixing fences. I think that made it worse for my mother—that pervasive nag of might-have-been made her a little crazy, which I suppose in turn instilled a lasting fear in me. That’s the way of things in a village as small as ours was. Even a small incident resonates. A tragedy like that, it…alters the rhythm of everything irrevocably.” She stilled her fingers, watched the last of the ripples ebb. “Can feel almost like…like a curse…”

Gale said nothing, and she was grateful for his restraint. The churn of falling water filled the silence.

“I do love the sea, though—from a distance,” she continued, more brightly. “I could sit beside it for hours and just watch the colours shift, squall clouds gather...There’s a certain romance to it, don’t you agree?”

“Completely.”

“And seafaring tales are some of my favourites,” Tav went on. “Gandorra Burr’s Fifty Years at Sea—have you read it?”

“The second volume only,” Gale replied, almost apologetic. “Ironically, I found it a little dry.”

She snorted. “Fair. Though the sparseness of the text added to the experience for me, compounding the dread and desolation. Her description of the Whalebones, for instance: there’s something innately chilling about a natural graveyard, and the matter-of-fact way she described those monstrous bleached ribs jutting up out of the black sand was just so…doleful. Haunting. I think that’s the true appeal for me. Romance, yes, but there is an inherent sense of tragedy about the sea. The loneliness and enormity of it feels quite…otherworldly.”

This time when he did not speak, she risked a sidelong glance and found him simply watching her, smiling dreamily, his eyes shining with a doting interest that was completely disarming.

Dangerous, indeed.

“Perhaps I need to revisit it,” he ventured, scratching his beard. “Or better yet—hear it read aloud by a talented bard with a gift for finding the poetry in bones.”

Tavania laughed. “If we stumble on a copy, I’ll happily read you to sleep, wizard.”

“I’ll begin the search at once.”

She bit down on her lip, blushing. “To answer your actual question…” Tav lifted one leg out of the water and wiggled her dripping toes. “This is as deep as I go.”

Gale’s expression shifted—a certain tilt of his head, a new glint in his eye that fell just shy of mischief. The spark of an idea. He planted his feet and rose in the chest-deep water, holding out a hand.

“Come here.”

Tav blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

“Come here,” he repeated, beckoning her this time with his spellbinding fingers, his many rings of gold and silver playing in the moonlight. Then, as if remembering himself, he lifted his other hand to shield his eyes. “Ah—apologies!”

“I think we’re a little beyond that, don’t you?”

He hummed, his smile turning luminous and sly. “True. One can’t always be a gentleman.”

Gale let his hand fall away and he watched her, keenly, as she stood and made her measured way to him. If he noticed the faint limp in her stride, he gave no sign. Merely waited, mute, his hand outstretched and lips slightly parted as he drank her in with something close to wonder, studying her as if she were some rare beauty he could not grasp the meaning of—but would gladly spend the rest of his life in the rigorous pursuit.

By the time she reached him, every inch of her was aflame, and when she slid her hand into his, she felt the same spark she had the very first time they touched, the day she pulled him from that rock. Then, she had dismissed it as magical interference; now, there was nothing else between them but a few scant inches of cold lake, and something far deeper as well. Undefinable. Inevitable.

“Exquisite,” he murmured—so absently, she was not sure he was aware he said anything.

The heat in his gaze was suddenly too much to bear. With a nervous laugh, Tavania looked away—down, to his chest, its vital rise and fall, and the ominous circle of flame branded into the flesh over his heart. The black tendrils that curled up his throat had long intrigued her; she suspected them connected to his mysterious affliction, but the rest he had always kept carefully concealed. Seeing it now, a thing of uncommon elegance laid bare by moonlight, a storm gathered inside her. Sympathy, curiosity, desire…

A bloom of quiet dread.

“Is this”—a breath quivered from him—“all right?”

Tav glanced up, catching his eyes. One, a rich and velvety brown a person could get lost in forever; the other, silver as a frost-laden sky. Dusky tear stains tattooed the cheek below as if he once had wept all the colour out of it.

She was not sure if his question was meant for her, or for himself.

Summoning her most charming smile, flush with rosy light, she asked, “Are you going to teach me to swim, professor?”

With a snort, he said, “In good time,” as if time was a luxury they had in abundance. “For now, I offer merely a taste.”

“Of drowning?”

Gale frowned. “You wound me, my dear.” He sought her other hand beneath the water; his fingers were warm despite the chill. “I hope you know I’d never allow that to happen.”

That quiet ‘my dear’… A slip that sounded so natural, she suspected it was not the first time the words had occurred to him, even if he had never spoken them aloud. Her chest constricted. All she could say was, “I do.”

He smiled. “Are you ready?”

Without knowing precisely what he intended, she nodded; a stark realisation of trust. “Yes.”

“Any time you want to stop, you need only say the word,” he assured her as he began to walk slowly backward, the pull of their joined hands coaxing her deeper with him. “Be aware, there is a sudden drop.”

She nodded again, only half-listening, focused instead the water rising up her arms, her chest, floating her nerves with it. It was far colder here than it had been by the shore; Tav shivered as it lapped up to her collar bones. She her felt herself becoming more buoyant as it breached her shoulders, her footfalls feeling far less grounded in reality. Around them, Gale’s magical lights had dimmed into soft, pulsing pinpricks, drifting constellations that mirrored the stars. Suddenly, they were nothing more than two small, fragile bodies adrift in an ethereal sea of cosmic dark.

And then, on her next dizzying step, the ground vanished entirely.

Water surged up her neck, into her ears, her nose. She gasped in alarm and swallowed a mouthful. Coughed. Choked. Somehow in her flailing panic, she slipped free of Gale’s grip, losing him in a thrash of bubbles as she tried to claw her way back to the surface, but there was nothing to grab on to. Nothing above, nothing below. Only cold, uncaring darkness.

Instead of floating, she was falling.

Her thoughts splintered, half of her back aboard the burning nautiloid, its sinewy walls quivering in the hot rush of wind as it tore apart around her. The tadpole squirmed in her skull. She could not breathe. She was going to die. She was—

And then he was there. His arms wrapping tightly around her waist, lifting her up, his voice cutting through the roil of terror.

“I have you.”

Coughing, she threw her arms around his neck, clinging to him, shaking.

“I have you,” he said again, lips closer against her ear. “I have you.” Again. And again. Until she believed him.

“Don’t let go,” she rasped.

“I wouldn't dream of it.”

She believed him.

Safe in his arms, Tav let her body slacken. Shivering, sputtering, she breathed, matching the steady rise and fall of his chest, finding his rhythm to anchor herself. The cold and the dark remained, but soon she hardly noticed. All she felt was Gale: the warm glide of his bare skin against hers, the subtle shifting of his muscles and the push-pull of the water around her feet as he kicked gently to keep them both afloat.

“Forgive me,” he whispered, squeezing his arms around her. “This was a terrible idea. I’ll take us in.”

“Wait—” she said in a rush, clinging harder, desperate to hold on to this, to him, this precious moment.

He stilled beneath her.

“It wasn’t terrible. I don't know what happened, I just—” Tav exhaled. “Can we just…stay?”

Gale skated a hand up her back to cradle her neck, a warm and solid comfort. “Whatever you wish.”

The river current split and flowed on around them, and they drifted a little in its gentle course, Gale ever kicking to keep them steady. They began to turn in aimless circles, as if caught in the stream of a silent waltz. As the last vestiges of fear receded, Tav began to see the music in her mind: pretty waves of indigo tangled up in midnight blue, threaded through with silver strands against a canvas of star-soaked black. The song made its needful way to her throat, and without meaning to, she began to faintly hum.

“What is that?” he asked after a time. “I don’t recognise it.”

“No, it's…” Not know how else to describe it, she said simply, “Us.”

Gale let out a blissful sigh, resting her head against her temple.

Tav shifted her weight, a sudden sting breaking the spell; the music slipped away from her, leaving only a sharp yellow hiss of pain in its wake.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Tavania Starling,” Gale said sternly.

Rolling her eyes, she lifted her wounded arm from his shoulder for him to see.

“Hells, Tav!” he exclaimed at a glance. “That’s hardly nothing—it’s your whole bloody arm!”

“It’s nothing,” she insisted, an edge of irritation cutting in. “A graze, that’s all. Skin-deep.”

“Skin-deep! You’ve hardly any skin left at all! What happened?”

“I slipped like a clumsy fool coming down the bluff, that's all. Honestly—this”—Tav shook her arm at him—”hurts far less than you calling me by my full name in your grumpy wizard voice.”

“I don't have a—” He huffed, a splinter amusement in it, the rest pure exasperation. At least a little of it with himself for taking her bait.

“I may have also sprained my knee.”

“Mystra give me strength…” he grumbled, taking hold of her wrist for a closer look. He was careful, methodical. She suppressed a cringe as his thumb barely brushed the bitter edges of her wound.

“What’s the prognosis?”

“Quite dire, I’m afraid,” he said, solemn in tone if not in spirit. “And we once again find ourselves confronted with the glaring void in my otherwise formidable repertoire of expertise: the restorative arts.“

“Well, I had a good run,” she said with a shrug.

Gale tutted. “Not so fast, madam. I do happen to know of one very old technique, proven to help ease pain and hasten recovery, popular to this very day among certain wise practitioners of the gentler arts. If you would permit me to try it.”

She raised one eyebrow. “By all means, if you think it might help.”

Gale gently lifted her arm above the waterline, droplets trailing from her elbow as he leaned in, squinting in an exaggerated show of scrutiny. “Yes, I think—”

A soft kiss, just above her elbow.

“Any better?” he whispered, barely lifting his lips from her skin.

Tav swallowed a lump. “Still hurts…”

“I see.”

Another kiss, a touch higher than the last, lingering this time.

“Now?”

She did not answer. Couldn’t.

Gale continued, tracing a deliberate path up her arm with unbearable restraint. Each tender kiss sent a jolt through her—hot, electric, winding her up from the inside out. The fingers of her other hand flexed, digging into the taut muscle of his shoulder, eliciting from him a soft, aching sound; she was not sure if it was pain or pleasure—or both.

At last, he arrived at her wrist. There, he paused, just long enough for anticipation to coil itself around her throat, leaving her breathless. Gale turned her hand, pressing one final kiss into the centre of her palm. Longer. Deeper. His lips warm, his beard soft, his tongue a sweet whisper of heat falling into her heart line. As he moaned again, this one distinctly rapturous, she blearily wondered if he could still taste the scorch of magic on her skin.

He sighed her name, and she cupped his cheek to draw him closer; Gale obeyed, coming back to rest his forehead against hers.

“About the other night…”

Tav winced. “You don’t have to—”

“I have thought of little else for days,” he blurted, undeterred. “Only you. But I acquitted myself poorly—then and since. For that, I must apologise. I was…startled. It’s been a very long time since I was…close…to anyone…in that way,” he said, struggling even to say it, and she could feel his brows pulling into a frown. “In any way, really. Or for that matter, wanted to be.”

“Same,” she confessed in a small voice.

Gale pulled back to look at her, offered a smile that seemed to comfort them both. “To be perfectly clear—I do want to be close to you, Tavania. Very much so.”

A giddy laugh teased the back of her tongue. “We could scarcely be any closer.”

“Oh, I can think of a way or two.” His eyes narrowed, turning his smile wryly suggestive, and Tav felt herself flush again.

A familiar shadow fell over him, his shoulders drooping beneath its weight.

“But, I am…afraid…well, of many things,” he admitted. “A great many things, indeed. Chief among them: the sudden contraction of time.”

Gale barked out a humourless laugh.

“If someone had told me two weeks ago that I would find myself here—dumped unceremoniously in the wilds of southern Faerun, with a deadly parasite squirming in my skull, harried by deranged cultists hailing the coming of a new god”—he paused, his harsh tone softening into molten gold—”with the most magnificent, extraordinary woman I have ever met wrapped my arms…”

Tav nudged his shoulder lightly. “Charmer.”

He flashed a quick grin. “Suffice it to say, I would have declared it the ramblings of a madman—or the stuff of an overwrought, implausible bodice-ripper, replete with gross misrepresentations of my character.”

“True,” she agreed. “To my knowledge, you’re yet to rip a single bodice.”

“Yet…” Gale emphasised. “When it happens, you shall be the first to know.” He sighed then. “The timing of all of this, however, is—”

“I know.”

“—inopportune. To say the very least.”

What neither of them said loomed loud in the ensuing silence: This might be all the time we have.

Tav’s gaze was drawn again to the grim brand above his heart. Her hand slipped from his cheek, fingertips tracing the searing circle’s edge with a feather-light touch. Gale held perfectly still, failing even to breathe, and she thought she felt something stir beneath his skin—a faint pulse that did not belong to him. Something other. Something wrong. In her own blood, her magic thrummed like a struck chord and then…recoiled. As if even her wild and untamed power feared what lay within him.

Gale caught her fingers in a sudden vice grip and wrenched her hand away—too rough to be intentional. Guilt followed instantly; he brought her hand to his lips, kissing the backs of her fingers in trembling apology.

Tav gaped at him, a chill creeping through her that had nothing to do with the icy water.

The terror in his eyes just now…

“We should head back,” he said hoarsely.

She nodded.

With one arm still around her waist, Gale turned and swam them back toward the shallows from which they had drifted. Tav clung to him, numb, barely kicking her trailing feet. At last he slowed to a stop in the shallower water and set her down, making sure she had her feet fully beneath her before letting go.

They looked at one another. Tav saw the distance gathering, tendrils of creeping fog come to pull him away. She was losing him again.

Without thinking, she brought her hands to his face, pulled him closer as she leaned in, and kissed him. Softly. Briefly. Nothing at all like desperate, hungry the thing she had imagined nights ago.

But it was real.

And it was perfect.

Left as waypoint for him to find her by when he was ready. If he ever was.

Then she let him go, limping the rest of the way to the shore on her own.

[tayswizzlez]

roman reigns x oc - love me like i'm not made of stone, chapter one: control

title: love me like i'm not made of stone (ao3) pairing: roman reigns x oc (maria marie) summary: maria marie was once called the future of wwe but now she's been sidelined playing valet to her boyfriend, ace spade. when ace's obsession with roman reigns leads to him doing something drastic both maria and roman's worlds may never be the same. rating: 18+, minors DNI warnings: language, violence, eventual smut (including light kink and bdsm), possible other warnings to be added. other things: slow burn, angst, eventual happily ever after chapter: 1/? - control word count: 6287

other stuff: disclaimer | masterlist (coming soon) | playlist | about me

notes: i've had the idea for this fic since i played wwe 2k22 because apparently i'm incapable of making caws without giving them extensive backstories. idk how this one really happened, i just kept pairing up maria and roman for tag matches and… there they were. then i stopped playing and took a break from watching wrestling but when i got 2k25 (my first game since) i had to make maria again and well… this is a result of that?

this is also my first time writing for anything wwe related so hopefully everything is ic. also this fic is 100% kayfabe (it's still real to me dammit!). i've done my best to be as canon compliant as possible but i've had to change some things to better suit this story. this takes place after roman defeats lesner (bc i really just don't want to include him at all lol) and at the height of the bloodline's power. i've changed around some of the rosters just to work better plotwise and because i'm biased and and want to write about the wrestlers i like and slander those i don't jk. 

also i'll expand on this at some point but maria is half maori (a tribute to a friend). she is also in her early 30s. images of her were created by me in 2k games.

i honestly don't even know if i really like this chapter because my brain keeps wanting to focus on the later plot so i really just pushed this out so i could get to it but i hope it's somewhat enjoyable??

if you'd like to be added to an update tag list let me know!

i'm bigger than my body i'm colder than this home i'm meaner than my demons i'm bigger than these bones - control, halsey

Once they chanted her name.

Now she was lucky if it ended up on a WhatCulture “Top Ten Wrestlers WWE fumbled” list. Maria Marie one of the longest reigning NXT Women’s Champions reduced to being valet for the mid-card talent that was Ace Spade. Her boyfriend. Ace had promised her it would only be for a few months, just until he could find his footing on the main roster when they both got called up at the same time.

That had been over a year ago.

She kept telling herself things would change, that all Ace needed was one good match. A match that would put him over, a match that would help him find his footing and he would finally have his place on the roster. But deep down Maria knew that this wasn’t going to happen. During their time in NXT Maria had always been the better wrestler. She was better on the mic. She was a natural. She had lived and breathed wrestling for as long as she could remember. As a child she would stay up late to record every show on VHS and she would watch them over and over until the tape was so worn it wouldn’t work anymore. She’d memorize every move, she’d look for any tells of what a wrestler’s next move might be. She had lied about her age so she could join a wrestling club and once they had found out she was younger they ended up letting her stay because they had seen her potential. She was an expert tactician who wasn’t afraid to do high flying moves and take risks. What she had lacked in physical strength she made up for by being calm, collected and calculating in the ring.

And Ace… was Ace. He had never had a title in NXT. He was more of a loudmouth than he was a wrestler, which had only gotten worse when they had both signed to Smackdown. And it didn’t help that he was often an annoying loudmouth. He would talk a big game but never really could back it up. He always walked the line of being the type of guy the fans loved to hate or hated to hate. He was usually thrown into matches with guys at the top of the power rankings, probably to pad those wins out for them. The few matches he had won he had never won clean. But that never stopped him from talking like he was one of the biggest names in the industry.

For the most part Maria would go along with it. Because she loved him or she had at some point. In the last few months in particular Ace had been single minded in his obsession with Roman Reigns. Even at home, on the days they were away from the ring, Roman and The Bloodline was one of the only things Ace talked about. It was like he wasn’t capable of thinking about anything else anymore. Maria had learned to tune him out. She’d nod, give a “mmhmm” or some other sort of ambiguous noise that could be seen as agreement or disapproval. Ace was far to focused on himself to really even notice if Maria was listening or not.

Now was one of those times. It was just before Smackdown went live. Maria and Ace were in one of the locker rooms. Ace had been pacing back and forth, cocky as ever going on about how The Bloodline really weren’t all that great. Maria was styling her hair in the mirror. She looked immaculate. She always did. She put her hair up in an intricate style with braids woven in. Her makeup was perfect - red lips, cats eye liner and just a hint of glitter on her skin. Her clothes were perfectly tailored, skin tight pants, a sleeveless top that showed off her toned arms. She looked good. Really good.

Her eyes shift to Ace’s reflection in the mirror, he’s still ranting. Bleached blonde hair, pushed back with an 80s style bandana, like he was a Motley Crue reject. His gear a mix of garish colours and patterns that somehow for him just made sense. His long entrance jacket thrown haphazardly over the bench. He had a match against Butch tonight and Maria would be there ringside, cheering him on as usual.

“Babe, have you been listening to me?” Ace says suddenly, looking up and meeting Maria’s eyes in the mirror.

“Yeah, of course,” Maria turns to face him, leaning back against the sink.

“I need you with me on this. I can’t do this without you,” he says.

“You know I’m with you,” Maria says. How can he even question her on that, after all the sacrifices she’s made for him. It makes her chest ache whenever he talks like this. It was like no matter what she did, it would never be enough.

“It doesn’t feel like it sometimes,” Ace huffs, almost like a child. “I just need you behind me on this. No one has been able to stand up to Roman so far and I just can’t help but think the guy who can actually do it is me.”

Maria doesn’t reply right away. It seemed almost laughable for Ace to think that he could actually compare to Roman and be the one to make his empire fall. Roman was the best in WWE for a reason, he had an entire Bloodline behind him. He had beaten the best of the best, there was no one left to challenge his power. How could Ace possibly think he could do anything that?

“Babe!” Ace snaps, looking annoyed. “Just think of it. Who better to take on Roman Reigns than me?!”

“Uh, yeah,” Maria forces a smile.

“No one has the brains or charisma that I have,” Ace starts pacing, seemingly oblivious to Maria’s fake smile. “And I’m tired of having to just bow down to whatever they want. Who the hell does he think he is? He’s not special.”

Maria honestly didn’t really have many thoughts about Roman and The Bloodline. She admired him as a wrestler, there were many of his matches she watched over and over. Looking at his moves, looking at how calculated he was. How would act completely cold but there were sparks of real emotion there. Emotions he clearly didn’t want anyone else to see. She didn’t think much of that though - the emotional state of the Tribal Chief wasn’t really her concern.

She had enough trouble acknowledging her own.

A member of the backstage crew sticks her head in the locker room. “Ten minute warning,” she says, before slipping away.

“Ahhh,” Ace grins and rubs his hands together. “Who am I fighting tonight?”

“Butch,” Maria replies.

“Which one was he again?” Ace asks as he swings on his long coat with a flourish. “Doesn’t matter. My name is the only one worth remembering.”

It was impressive how someone with such a bad match record could have such a gigantic ego.

“Shall we,” Ace’s grin morphs into something that for a moment is a little bit softer. It was the smile that had first got Maria’s attention when they were in NXT. It used to give her butterflies now she didn’t feel much of anything about it. He extends his arm to her.

Maria takes it and they start to leave the locker room until Ace gives her a once over. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Hmm,” Maria’s brow furrows. “What?”

Ace frowns and gestures at her arm. “Seriously? No wonder I lose matches, you can’t even remember my lucky charm.”

It takes Maria a second to realize she’s not wearing her armband. It had been something she had done when they had first started dating in NXT. It was supposed to be a one time thing for the NXT Heatwave PLE but Ace had liked it so much Maria had kept it up. She’d take scraps of fabric from his gear and fashion them into arm bands to wear for herself. Even when Ace wasn’t there or it didn’t go with what she was wearing she’d have one on. At one point she had made one from her own gear for him but he said that arm bands made it hard for him to flex and do certain moves. She had just brushed it off. Like she did a lot of things with him.

“Oh, shit,” she sighs. “I must have dropped it, you go ahead. I’ll meet you in gorilla.”

Ace scowls. “Be quick. I need my girl with me during my entrance.”

Despite the scowl he gives Maria a quick peck on the cheek before he leaves the locker room. As soon as he’s gone Maria exhales. For a few moments she just lets herself enjoy the quiet, even though she can still hear the bustle of the show outside. She missed that. She missed being a part of that. She had lived to go out there and do matches in NXT. She looked forward to touring and doing house shows more than she did holidays. And she missed it. So much.

But she told herself being there for Ace was the right thing. He had been the one who had helped her through her concussion recovery a few years ago. He had doted on her, looked after her, got her everything she needed. She could still see the look on his face for her first match back - he had been so scared. He kept asking her if she was really ready, telling her how concerned he was it was too soon.

Sometimes a deep and dark ugly part of herself couldn’t help but think Ace was only so concerned because her coming back from injury meant the spotlight would be on her again. But she couldn’t allow herself to think like that. It was too much. Besides what sort of boyfriend wouldn’t have been worried. He was the one who needed her now and she needed to be there for him.

“Five minutes!” she hears a stage hand yell out in the hall.

Maria breaks away from her thoughts, cursing under her breath as she goes back to her bag. She knows she didn’t drop the arm band, she had forgotten it. Normally it was second nature to put it on, one of the first things she did to get ready but now it was more of a chore. She pulls it out of her bag and quickly puts it on. She gives herself one last look in the mirror, forces a smile at her reflection before she leaves for gorilla. *****

That night’s Smackdown show hadn’t been that interesting - as usual. Roman Reigns had watched it from The Bloodline locker room, with Paul Heyman over his shoulder. It felt pointless sometimes but he needed to keep an eye on things. He needed to keep an eye on his show. As usual nothing of note happened. There was that one guy with the bad dye job running his mouth again but Roman didn’t take him seriously. There was no reason too. He didn’t have the skill. He wasn’t even skilled enough to lace Roman’s boots.

It was late by the time he and Heyman were finally leaving the arena. Even after the show there were things to take care of. The halls were dark, most of the other wrestlers had left and it was only crew taking things down for the night.

Roman walked ahead, while Heyman was behind on the phone talking to someone in the WWE offices.

“What my Tribal Chief wants, my Tribal Chief gets,” Heyman says into the phone. “Why is that so difficult to understand?”

Roman rolls his eyes a little as he keeps walking. From down the hall he can hear the sounds of someone in the gym. The crew always set up makeshift gyms at each arena. A place for wrestlers to warm up before matches. This surprises him, normally he was the last one to eave after each show. Curiosity got the better of him and he turns towards the gym - Heyman follows without question still on the phone.

He need to know who was still here, he had to know everything that happened on his show.

The lights of the gym were low, there was even a few crew taking down some of the equipment. In the makeshift ring was one person, the sleek ponytail making her unmistakable.

Maria Marie, the girlfriend or valet or whatever she was of that annoying jobber who had been so obsessed with him. She moved around the ring with ease, her movements so fluid and natural it was almost hypnotizing to watch. It almost made Roman want to charge into that ring and demand to know why she had just been following her useless boyfriend for so long. It was obvious just from watching her like this she had more talent in a finger than he had in his entire body.

Roman understands then why her boyfriend had pushed her into that role. If Maria was on the main roster she would outshine him. It was already impossible to take him seriously but if she was on the card he wouldn’t even be an afterthought, he’d barely even be a footnote. And he can’t help but stare at her as she continues, completely unaware of his presence.

“Ah, Maria Marie,” Heyman’s voice comes from over Roman’s shoulder, he still had his phone pressed to his ear. “One of the longest reining NXT Women’s Champions, once said to be one of the best technical wrestlers of this generation.”

Roman doesn’t say anything. He just keeps watching.

“Now she’s a valet to Ace Spade,” Heyman continues. “A shame she lost her fight, my Tribal Chief. She could have been one of the best- no, I will not go on hold again I am the Wiseman of the Tribal Chief…”

Heyman’s voice gets more annoyed as he goes back to talking to whoever on the phone, he walks away from the gym. Roman stays watching Maria, his brow furrowed.

“She hasn’t lost anything,” he mutters under his breath before he too, turns and walks away. *****

ONE WEEK LATER…

Maria was heading to catering. Ace had been ranting more than usual today and she needed a break. She told him she needed a tea to make sure her voice was ready to cheer him on ring side, which was good enough excuse for him. She was just outside of catering when she pauses, hesitating, she can hear Charlotte Flair and Lacey Evans talking and laughing.

“Did you see Spade’s latest Instagram post?” Lacey laughs. “Who does he think he is? Thinkin’ he can actually step up with the Tribal Chief.”

Maria freezes, then stays behind the vending machine. The two women don’t see her.

“I don’t know who’s more pathetic, him or his girlfriend,” Charlotte replies, voice full of disdain.

Lacey laughs again. “Gosh, she’s so pathetic. Can you imagine givin’ up your career for someone like him? As a woman it’s insultin’ Sets feminism back, yanno?”

“She wasn’t even that good anyways,” Charlotte replies. “Her not being in the ring isn’t a huge loss.”

“True. That girl is all look and no substance. I mean who even is she other than the valet of the most obnoxious and deluded man in the industry. What does that make her? She probably slept with someone to get her title in NXT.”

Maria’s stomach clenches but she stays hidden, unable to move. She had never really spoken to Charlotte or Lacey but hearing the venom in their voices was catching her off guard. Normally she didn’t care what other people thought of her. But something about their tone stings.

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Charlotte replies. “If she’s fucking Ace Spade, she’s clearly willing to fuck anyone.”

“Desperation, nasty.”

They laugh. Maria’s hands ball into fists, her manicured nails dig into her palms. Then out of the corner of her eye she sees someone walk past her into catering, Charlotte and Lacey immediately go silent and it’s like the air has shifted. It’s somehow… colder. Maria tilts her head out just enough to see who it was and her eyes widen.

Roman Reigns.

Charlotte and Lacey both stare at him for a moment as he crosses over to the catering table. Lacey combs her fingers through her hair and then puts on her most flirtatious smile.

“Well hello there, Tribal Chief,” she coos. Charlotte rolls her eyes.

Roman says nothing, he doesn’t even look at Charlotte or Lacey. Maria stays where she was, watching. For a few tense moments Roman just looks at the catering table, then he takes a bottle of water and without a word or a look to the women watching him he turns to leave. Lacey watches with a look of disappointment, Charlotte mostly looks unimpressed.

Realizing he’s about to walk past her again Maria steps back a bit, hoping it won’t look like she had been watching the whole thing. As Roman walks by he doesn’t stop but for a moment he looks at her and their eyes meet. Something unreadable flickers in his steely gaze. It roots Maria on the spot. She doesn’t know what it is about that look but it does something to her. But before she can even figure it out, Roman is looking away and walking towards The Bloodline dressing room.

“That was weird, right?” she hears Charlotte’s voice again. “He has his own catering, why come here?”

“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t mind acknowledging him,” Lacey says, meaning obvious.

“Now who’s pathetic?” Charlotte scoffs.

Maria turns, going the opposite way of Roman. She can’t listen to them anymore. Her mind feels like a mess. She usually had a thick skin but something about how they were talking about her really made her feel bad today. The fact they were so dismissive of her. She knows it has been a long time since she stepped into the ring but it didn’t change everything she had accomplished before that. Once she would have gone into catering and chewed the two of them out for talking about her like that. But now it didn’t feel like there was much point. They had clearly already made up their minds about her. And it wasn’t like she could even challenge them to a match to show them how good she was.

She heads back to Ace’s locker room. He wasn’t set to have a proper match tonight but he insisted that they still had to be there. She’s almost at the locker room when she stops, further down the hall she can see Ace talking to… Seth Rollins? Maria’s brow furrows. She didn’t even know Ace and Seth knew each other. And from the way they were talking it was like they didn’t want anyone to hear. After a few moments the two of them laugh and Seth claps Ace on the shoulder before walking away, a huge smirk on his face. As he passes Maria he smiles at her.

“Ready for the show?” he asks.

Maria’s brow furrows. Seth doesn’t wait for an answer as he continues to stride down the hall. Maria watches for a moment before she looks back at Ace who was now in front of her.

“What was that about?” she asks.

“What do you mean?” Ace says, sounding unphased as he picks invisible lint off his coat.

“I just… didn’t know you and Seth were… friends?”

Ace didn’t really have many friends in the company, mostly because he would run his mouth too often no one really wanted anything to do with him.

“He was just giving me a pep talk,” Ace replies. “Game recognizing game. He believes in me, unlike some people.”

Maria knows that was meant as a dig at her and she sighs. “It’s not that I don’t believe in you, I-”

“Really? Because you sure act like you don’t believe in me.”

“Ace that’s not…”

“You don’t think I can beat Roman Reigns.”

“I just want you to be realistic, you can’t just demand a match and expect to win.”

Ace shakes his head. “Unbelievable.”

Maria sighs, deciding it was best to try and change the subject. “So, I’ve been thinking… I want to get in the ring again.”

“What?!” Ace’s eyes narrow.

“I miss wrestling, Ace,” Maria continues. “It’s been a year…”

“And what am I supposed to do? Huh?!” Ace snaps. “I need you in my corner.”

“I am in your corner!”

“No, you’re thinking of yourself again. How can you be so selfish after everything I’ve done for you. You promised me you’d support me.”

“If you really loved me you’d do this for me,” Ace says, snidely. “And you’ll do it with that smile that makes the whole world melt.”

Maria feels like she’s had ice dumped on her. She wants to scream. But she doesn’t. Instead she bottles all of it up. Like she always does. She doesn’t think she can do this much longer.

“Ace I-”

The Bloodline music starts up int he arena then, echoing in the hallways.

“Are you with me or not?” Ace glares at her.

She doesn’t know what to say, she barely knows what to think. Her emotions feel like a mess right now.

“…yeah,” she shrugs.

“Good, we’re a package deal baby,” Ace grins. “I promise you’ll get your turn again but timing is everything.”

He extends his arm to her, she takes it, automatically, and they head down the hall. *****

“Ladies and gentleman, my name is Paul Heyman. And I serve as the special counsel… to the reigning, defending, undisputed Tribal Chief - ROMAAAN REEIGNS”

The crowd roars. The Bloodline stands in the ring. Roman in the centre, title around his waist, with Jimmy and Jey flanking him. Heyman stands nearby, holding Roman’s other title - mic in hand.

Roman then extends his own hand and Heyman obediently hands over the mic with a little bow.

“ACKNOWLEDGE ME!” Roman yells into the mic.

The crowd goes wild yet again, some cheering, others jeering and booing. And Roman waits, soaking all of it in as if daring every person there to disobey him.

“Every week, I walk out here and it’s the same story,” Roman begins his promo, voice dripping with the type of smugness you could only earn. “I smash them. I stack them. I pin them. And then I fly home with my titles… and my legacy still intact.”

He begins to pace a little in the ring. Heyman in the background utters “yes you do my Tribal Chief.” Jimmy and Jey are all smirks.

“The truth is, there’s nobody left. I’ve beaten them all. Every challenger, every so-called superstar who thought that they were on my level.”

The crowd reacts, some booing, some yelling out names of other superstars.

“Nobody can beat you my Tribal Chief,” Heyman says.

Roman smirks. “Now, I keep hearing about this guy. Keeps buzzing around, flapping his mouth backstage, calling my name like he’s earned it.” Roman raises his hand close by his head and makes a gesture like there is a fly buzzing around him, because that’s all this guy was to him. A fly. A bug. Waiting to be squashed.

He then pauses, tilting his head. “What’s his name again, Wiseman?”

“Ace… Ace something, my Tribal Chief. Like a playing card,” Heyman supplies with feigned confusion.

“Right, that guy,” Roman says mockingly. “Couldn’t remember, he hasn’t done anything worth remembering.”

The Usos start laughing, meanwhile the crowd is now eating it up.

“What type of name is that, Uce?” Jey sniggers behind Roman.

“A bad porn star or failed magician,” Jimmy replies.

“Oh, he’s a failed something,” Roman agrees, smirking right into the camera. *****

“He’s taunting me,” Ace growls. “That motherfucker is actually taunting me.”

He was standing in gorilla with Maria and he was fuming. Maria had never seen Ace like this before. Even the veins on his head looked like they might pop.

“That’s just…” Maria puts a hand on Ace’s arm, trying to calm him down. “It’s just what he does. Don’t take it personally.”

“Don’t tell me how to take it!” Ace snaps at her, wrenching his arm back. “I’ve had enough of his bullshit. He thinks he runs this company. Well, it’s about time someone stands up to him. And that someone is going to be me. He doesn’t remember me?! I’m about to make sure he never forgets me!”

“Ace-”

Maria reaches out to grab him again but it’s too late Ace has already ripped a microphone out of the hand of a stage hand and is storming towards the ramp.

“PLAY MY MUSIC!” he yells at the crew.

Maria stares after him.

“Oh, fuck…” she mutters before quickly hurrying after him.

Ace’s music hits as he storms down the ramp, the crowd is shocked. In the ring Roman looks bored he looks at the Usos and Heyman and gestures towards Ace as if to say ‘this guy.’ The Usos meanwhile are already jeering at Ace as he continues to storm down into the ring.

A few moments later Maria is behind Ace, trying to get him to calm down but Ace pays no attention to her. Her climbs into the ring and immediately get into Roman’s face.

Roman’s eyes narrow a fraction as he looks down at Ace, who did he think he was to get so close to him.

“You think you’ve beaten everyone, huh?!” Ace yells into the mic. “You haven’t beaten me. I want a match. You and me, Roman!”

The Usos crack up. Even Heyman starts laughing. Then the crowd does too. After a few beats, Roman smirks a little.

“You want a match? With me?” he looks at Heyman. “Hey Wiseman, is this guy serious?”

“He’s delusional, my Tribal Chief,” Heyman replies. “He’s not fit to lace your boots.”

“FIGHT ME!” Ace yells.

Roman turns back to Ace, still laughing. “What for? There is no challenge in facing you. No title. What do you have that I could possibly want?”

Ace is still fuming. Maria slides into the ring then and goes to him, she puts a hand on his forearm.

“Come on,” she says quietly. “Let’s just-”

Ace wrenches away so hard it causes Maria to stumble a step, which in turn makes Roman’s eyes narrow. He looks directly at her and that same feeling from when their eyes met earlier comes back to her.

“If I were gonna fight someone in this ring… It’d be her,” he gestures to Maria before looking back at Ace. “At least she could keep up. But instead of standing on her own, she’s stuck carrying your dead weight. You got called up and you couldn’t handle the truth, that your girl has and always has been better than you.”

Maria is staring at Roman with wide eyes. The crowd was popping. And then she could hear it, it wasn’t loud but she could hear some fans doing one of her old NXT chants. It made her feel dizzy.

Ace was still fuming but a part of him was starting to panic. He doesn’t look at Maria, he’s not even thinking about her in this moment, not really. His obsession with Roman has never been as intense as it is now.

“Maybe I’ll step into the ring with her anyways,” Roman says mockingly. Show her what it’s like to stand next to a real man. Someone who isn’t afraid of her success or skill.”

The vein in Ace’s head starts throbbing again. “You want her so bad?! Huh?! Is that what you want?” he’s snarling. “You want a prize?! Is that what it’s gonna take for you to fight me?!”

Roman’s eyes narrow but before he can reply Ace continues.

“You and me. A match. You beat me and she’s yours.”

“WHAT?!” Maria’s eyes widen.

For a moment it's silent, like the entire arena needed a second to process what Ace just said. And then it explodes. The crowd goes crazy, the Usos are yelling at Ace, even Heyman is talking but Roman just stares. His eyes cold. His expression deadly. All of Ace’s bravado fades in that moment.

“You really just did that?” Roman says coldly. “You just offered your girlfriend like she’s a… prize?”

Disgust is evident Roman’s face, he wants to punch Ace. He takes a step closer, his voice darker.

“You don’t deserve to be in this ring with me. You don’t deserve to be in any type of ring. But I’ll make an example out of you anyways. You want a match? You’ll get your match.”

With that Roman steps away from him, he doesn’t look at Maria as he exits the ring. Ace stands there, still fuming. Jimmy and Jey go to follow Roman, purposely they both bang their shoulders against Ace on the way out. Heyman then leaves too. Maria is breathing hard she turns to Ace, eyes narrowed.

“Ace what the-”

He doesn’t even look at her. Instead he rolls out of the ring and storms off leaving Maria alone in the ring. Alone with the crowd still going crazy, some cheering, some jeering and booing. She can’t her her chant anymore, maybe she had been imagining it.

In that moment even though she’s surrounded by the bright lights, tens of thousands of fans and the ring she loves so much she has never felt so alone. *****

SMACKDOWN COMMENTARY DESK MICHAEL COLE: (shocked) Did he… did Ace Space just offer his girlfriend as a prize? COREY GRAVES: (flat) He sure did, Cole. I can’t believe I just watched that happen. Real classy move. Nothing screams future Hall of Famer like offering off your girlfriend like a trophy. What is wrong with him? COLE: I’m speechless. That was- GRAVES: (cutting in) Desperate. Embarrassing. And honestly pathetic. What sort of man does that? Especially, to the woman who put her career on hold to support him?! I’m disgusted Cole. Maria doesn’t deserve this. COLE: Maria Marie is a former NXT Women’s Champion, and one of the best technical wrestlers of her generation. She’s not a pawn, not a prop. Certainly not a prize to be wagered. GRAVES: (fuming) Say what you will about the Tribal Chief, but even he looked disgusted. COLE: I just don’t know how to process this. We’ve seen wagers in matches before but something about this one… puts a really bad taste in my mouth. GRAVES: As it should Cole. We always knew Ace Spade was a loudmouth but tonight he proved the exact type of man he really is. He’s not just delusional, he’s desperate. He’s a terrible human being and I personally I can’t wait to see the Tribal Chief punch that smirk right off his face. COLE: If I was Ace Spade, I’d start praying. No way this ends well for him. GRAVES: I don’t know who he should be afraid of more. Roman Reigns? Or Maria. Because if she ever gets her hands on him… he’s not walking out of that ring. *****

It was late. The show had ended hours ago. Maria had no idea where Ace was and at the moment she didn’t really care. She was back in the gym, using the punching bag. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess right now and she had no idea how to even begin to process them. So she used her fists instead. Normally she was so controlled, her punches always landing exactly where she intended but tonight thy were harder, faster, almost erratic. Her fists were slamming into the bag like it was something cruel. Like it was an amalgamation of the last year.

“I don’t know who’s more pathetic, him or his girlfriend.” “How can you be so selfish after everything I’ve done for you.” “If you really loved me you’d do this for me.” “If she’s fucking Ace Spade, she’s clearly willing to fuck anyone.” “You and me. A match. You beat me and she’s yours.”

The words play over and over in her mind and she can’t stop punching. Because if she stops then she needs to think and she can’t do that right now. If she thinks she’ll fall apart.

She hits the bag again.

And again.

Her shoulders burned. Her arms were starting to tremble. She can feel sweat dripping down her skin. She’s punching like her life depending on it.

She can’t stop. Stopping means unravelling. And she can’t do that. She refuses to do that. Not now. Not over Ace. Even if a tiny part of her wants to. Needs to more than anything else.

And then she can’t hold back anymore, she screams. Raw, ragged, guttural. With all the strength she has left she throws one final punch.

The chain snaps. The heavy bag hits the floor like dead weight. The sound echoing off the walls and down the hall and it feels so oppressively loud Maria almost wants to put her trembling hands over her ears. Instead she staggers back, gasping for breath. She stars down at the falling bag. She still doesn’t cry. It was like her body was betraying her by refusing to allow her that release.

And then she collapses on the mat, rolling onto her back to stare at the ceiling. She was just… done. *****

Roman saw the whole thing. Everyone else had left. Even Heyman was long gone. But Roman had stayed late tonight, he wasn’t really sure why. Maybe a part of him had hoped he’d see her again in the gym. Or maybe he just liked it when the halls were empty and quiet, the lights dimmed. He was getting ready to leave when he heard the sound of the bag being used and he knew.

It was Maria.

He couldn’t help but follow the sound. Once again he stands in the shadows and watches her. Even now her pony tail was perfect, it didn’t even look like her makeup had smudged. But there were fractures in her control. It was like she was finally unravelling and he couldn’t look away or move.When she screamed and fell to the mat he still didn’t move. He remembered Heyman’s words from the other night, saying what a shame it was that Maria had given up. Roman saw it then but it’s clear as day to him now. This wasn’t a woman who had given up. The fight was still there but she had been buried under someone else’s story. And despite himself, Roman can’t help but think how beautiful she looks in this moment.

And then mentally he’s scolding himself for thinking that. He was the Tribal Chief, this woman was just another wrestler. Other than asserting his dominance there was really no reason to think about her at all. He was about to step back and leave her when a side door creaks open and of all people Shotzi Blackheart walks in.

“Knew I’d find you here,” Shotzi says, a duffel bag slung over her shoulder as she makes her way over to Maria who was still on the ground. She glances at the punching bag. “Remind me never to piss you off.”

Maria says nothing.

Shotzi seems unphased and dropped the duffel to the ground and then flops down next to Maria, laying next to her like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like they had done this dozens of times.

“You’re sleeping over tonight. No arguing,” she says.

Maria says nothing.

“Company policy,” Shotzi continues, her tone casual like she was talking about the weather. “Damage WWE property, get put under a 24-hour emotional surveillance watch.”

“That’s not a thing,” Maria croaks.

“It is so a thing. How do you think Miz and Maryse started dating.”

Maria huffs a little at that, almost a laugh. For a few moments they just lay there next to each other on the floor. Shotzi didn’t ask Maria if she was okay, she didn’t need too - she knew. Asking would just be insulting. After a few moments, Maria extends a shaking hand over to Shotzi, who’s own hand meets her halfway. Their fingers intertwine. Maria’s hands stop shaking.

Roman can’t look away. These two women looked like the came from different worlds, different planets even. Shotzi was chaos incarnate, tattoos, piercings and a wildness that couldn’t be tamed. Maria was perfected control, elegant with an air of elegance to her. They could not be more different. But it looked like they had been friends forever. His jaw tics a little, this made him feel something and he wasn’t sure he liked it. So he slinks back into the shadows to leave. *****

After few more moments, Shotzi helps Maria to her feet. She grabs the duffel bag which was full of Maria’s things and slings an arm around her friends shoulders.

“You know, just say the word and I bet we can get the whole locker room to beat the shit out of him,” she grins. “Sami was practically vibrating and K.O. never needs a reason, he’d do it just for fun.”

“Can we get noodles first?”

“Fuck yes!” Shotzi’s grin turns into a smirk.

Shotzi guides Maria towards the door but then Maria stops, out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw something. She turns towards one of the dark hallways, brow furrowed.

“You good?” Shotzi asks.

“Yeah I thought I just… saw someone,” Maria says softly.

Shotzi looks in that direction. “It’s probably just the crew waiting for you to leave so they can do take down.”

“Yeah,” Maria takes a deep breath. “You’re probably right.”

Then she follows Shotzi out the door.

[cinnabutcringy]

vertin and her relationships with others

hoo boy this one is gonna be a long one; i've barely really interacted with the fandom so admittedly if people have been talking about this, i might not really know! feel free to engage with this conversation however you'd like. this will also not be very structured, i am a pure yapper, a pure rambler at heart.

[ spoilers for the main story but specifically the first 4 chapters, i know i'll probably mention at least ONE major spoiler; also just as a cursory warning i will be talking about vertin-related ships in this one if that for some reason puts you off ]

so this has been in my mind for quite a while; again, as i don't engage a lot in fandom content (i am extremely nervous about joining discords despite wanting to and general fandom experiences make me wary but anyway) i'm sure there are people who have talked about this or think about it and i'm just not around to see it

before i TRULY begin, i just want to state: THIS IS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HATE TOWARDS VERTIN SHIPS, PARTICULARLY THE WLW ONES.

i understand how important this game's sapphics are to people and i'm not trying to say you cannot ship sonetto with vertin or schneider with vertin, but i think that fandom culture as a whole is incredibly ship-reliant/ship-focused and in my opinion that tends to take away from the nuance of certain media/characters, and i just want to see if other people also share my thoughts but haven't voiced them or whatever.

anyway, to start this post out: i do not think vertin is capable of forming truly deep bonds and relationships with people. romantic or otherwise. at least, not right now.

while vertin isn't entirely separated from her friends and allies, i think it's pretty evident that on some level, she puts up walls between herself and other people. vertin as a character is extremely composed, reliable and overall a trustworthy leader. and she's not entirely aloof, she has her quirks and interactions to show for it

but the fact remains that i think vertin, ever since witnessing the "storm" at such a young age, has put up walls between her and others just enough to where she can assume her responsibilities without letting her relationships stop her outright.

what i mean is basically, vertin allows herself to get close to people to an extent, but there's always a bit of distance between her and especially the people she's known for years. she never read as someone who gets particularly chummy with other people and i assume it's both because she feels obligated to carry out her duty, and because ever since the first "storm" she witnessed, she's felt it incapable to get too close to people because she felt it was her fault.

the close bonds she had with those at a young age made it all the more painful when she witnesses what the "storm" is truly capable of. i think it's reasonable to say that because of this, she's hesitant to truly let herself express this closeness to other people.

this post was originally going to be focused on vertin and schneider's dynamic, because to me it's the one that is both the least developed and just makes the least sense, but honestly? ironically that'd also be focusing too much on the ship in my opinion. plus, it's not just schneider, it's sonetto. it's mesmer. it's matilda. it's practically everyone she's met in her life.

schneider is just the easiest example to me because (and, this could just be because of the pacing of the early chapters, who knows) vertin never truly had an opportunity to get to know her. vertin knows her backstory, vertin knows her personality, and vertin ultimately knows that schneider will not be forgotten. but that doesn't mean vertin is in love with schneider.

on the contrary, i think she has empathy and care for her, but i think schneider is more infatuated with vertin and the genuine kindness she was shown. vertin on the other hand treated schneider like she treats everyone else: with kindness, compassion, and understanding.

the kiss scene i think kind of gave people a preconceived notion about vertin or at least, people used her reaction as fuel without considering anything else. (personally if schneider kissed ME like that i think i'd be just as shocked but COUGHS thats just me)

another example with a character basically outright stated to be in love with vertin is sonetto; i think that vertin has or at least had feelings for sonetto too, but she drowns them out because of the reasons stated before. with sonetto i actually think there's even more layers to how she feels seeing as she knew sonetto since they were kids, and sonetto got to see vertin change in real time in response to the experience she had. though analyzing specific ship dynamics in this post too much will take away from the vertin analysis so i'll probably leave that for another discussion.

i think vertin's sense of responsibility and duty ultimately mixes a lot with her trauma and makes it harder for her to prioritize herself and whatever feelings she may have for people; she can't risk getting too close, because if she does, she may lose the ability to do her job and i think being the timekeeper is something that matters deeply to her.

in conclusion, i think vertin is a very complex character. i mean, duh. this post wouldn't exist if i didn't think that. she's been deeply wounded and is trying to avoid that wound being constantly reopened because of her own habits (getting close to her allies, letting her guard down too much) and i think as a result she ends up putting up walls when she feels she's probably getting too close to someone.

obviously this is the sort of post i'd want discussion to form around, so if anyone thinks i'm wrong or there's some sort of objective evidence anyone wants to share i'm happy to engage. clasps hands Let's Discuss.

[phoenixeclipse-lmkau]

What if reqder was also a monkey?

How would the first meeting go and would the warlords still be in love with reader at the end?

(And can i be 🎂 anon?)

Yes, you can be 🎂 Anon! I am so glad to have another anon!

As for if Reader was also a monkey. I'd say in this version that if Reader was a monkey, she'd originally be from the Jttw World. She'd be from the same village as Spirit.

Her mother was a monkey demon while her father... let's just say he's not. He's also not human, celestial or demon. I have a plan for him but I'll keep that for later in this version of my au. Should I call it Monkey AU? Hmm… maybe I’ll need another name for it.

Spirit and Reader would be good friends from the get-go and sworn sisters ever since they were young children. In this version Reader is actually more adventurous and reckless. Having grown up in this world she is used to demon attacks, deadly threats and so forth.

She's a fighter willing to protect her only friend even if it means the death of herself.

She would meet Sun and Mac when she reaches Flower Fruit Mountain. Her and Spirit would have gotten there faster because there are two of them fighting their opponents instead of one. Also because Reader is a monkey demon she is welcomed onto the island by the two warlords with open arms, both excited to meet new monkey demons.

(A little backstory/ lore - Marshals Ma and Liu and Generals Beng and Ba are the only monkey demons born to flower fruit mountain, other than Wukong of course. Wukong makes it his mission to invite as many monkey demons to fill the mountain with and most come with him excitedly as they aren’t seen kindly by the humans of the mainland. After Macaque joins Wukong they both make it their mission to make the humans who treated their kind pay dearly, even though not all humans were harsh to them)

Anyways Reader gets to see her sworn sister meet her father and her new family first hand. She is both happy for her sister and slightly disappointed knowing that she wasn’t the only one her friend had now. She liked the feeling of being needed, but doesn’t want to spoil Spirit’s fun. Because of that she goes off to explore the island so her sister can have time meeting her family.

Of course this catches the attention of Macaque. Wukong is the one who trusts most monkey demons almost blindly with little distrust. Macaque on the other hand? No, he has fought and killed others who have threatened his life weather they were of his kind or not.

He has no intention of harming those his mate has chosen to be apart of their kingdom and makes sure to have friendly relations with them. However that doesn’t mean he trusts blindly especially those who have just arrived and haven’t yet accepted Wukong as their king. So following the new troop mates around is something he has made a habit of, but this time Wukong realizes what he’s doing.

After a short talk (Mostly using Wukong’s curiosity against him) the two follow the monkey demoness around. She has no rhythm or reason to her walks and simply looks around curious about her surroundings. When she believes she’s alone she sings softly allowing her voice to float through the air. Both Wukong and Macaque like the private ‘show’ not that they say anything at first.

Then they see her interact with the cubs around the mountain. The cubs that are so cute and adorable as they climb up and down Reader, curious about the newest member of the troop. All the while Reader laughs as she makes sure they don’t fall and grabs fruit from the trees to pass around to the youngsters. She is absolutely loving towards them making sure they are safe and happy. That is when the first smallest spark hits their hearts. Though they easily play it off, after all it’ll disappear after a while… right?

Hours turn into days, days turn into weeks and before they know it, two months have passed. And the small spark has turned into a bright flame that doesn’t die and is hard to hide. No matter how much they try. They can’t help but pay attention to her, they can’t help but absolutely ADORE her.

Now these two are very loyal to each other, but when feelings begin to bloom for this new Monkie demon they end up trying to stay away, unfortunately for them she seems to be a magnet for them. They are drawn to her from her smile to her laugh. When Macaque finds his mate liking this new woman (even though he likes her too) he intends to put an end to it. But when he sees her smile at him he completely freezes and can’t go through with it.

Macaque realizes he loves Reader almost as much as he loves his own mate. Telling his mate however is harder than anything else because his mate, his oh so OBLIVIOUS mate doesn’t realize he LOVES the woman that he does! Macaque remembers what he had to do to get Wukong to believe that he loved him now how is he supposed to get him to realize he loves this woman too!

Fortunately for Macaque, Wukong knows what love feels like. After all he feels love for Macaque so when he feels the oh so familiar feeling for Reader, well he KNOWS. It does take the two quite a while to actually talk to each other about their feelings though. They don’t want the other to go into a jealous rage and kill their new darling after all.

They do eventually talk and when they do? Well Reader realizes they are giving her more attention but doesn’t really think much of it… until she decides it’s time to leave to travel. Reader doesn’t like to be cooped up for too long especially Monkey!Reader she likes to travel. Unfortunately for her, when she goes to tell the Monkey King and his mate goodbye, well… she doesn’t get the chance to leave the mountain.

Hehe! I loved this ask. Now mind you this is my first idea for monkey!Reader. I also have another version that I have deemed Stone Monkie! Reader, though maybe not the same ‘stone’ as you may think. She was NOT born from stone. There is a different reason she is called Stone Monkie!Reader.

Hearts, comments and asks are always appreciated. Sorry this took so long 🎂 Anon. But I do love this ask. This is basically a headcanon quick version of a small fic now that I look at it. Hope you’re okay with that!

Edit: Added Monkie!Reader Lmk Au/ Monkie!Reader Au tag

[heliosoll]

hello!! i wanted to know more about your winx dr (that's where ill be shifting).

did the constant battles ever annoy you?

what kind of food was served at alfea?? did you join a club or elective while there? if not, can you still tell me what clubs/electives they have??

how far in canon did your dr go? and if you went thru s4, what was opening love and pet like? what was the day-to day like while you were on earth? did you ever get sad that you werent in the magic dimension for so long??

also if your dr takes the comics into account, which version of events did your dr follow? im reading the comics rn and the first few days for bloom at alfea are pretty different from the show. also im aware of a lot of silly transformations from the comics. did you gain those?? (foodix, sportix etc)

can you tell me anything about flora and layla/aisha that wasnt in the show??

does magix use the same calendar system as us?

i saw that you bonded to a pixie. what is it like to hold something that small?? do you experience cuteness aggression lol? what exactly does it feel like to bond with one?

do you still shift here? if so, what do you do now? if you teach at alfea, what's your subject? is your pixie still bonded?

have you done any traveling for fun? what was the most beautiful place you visited?

did the novelty of being in the magic dimension/being a fairy ever wear off, or is every day still exciting?

and lastly, what is your backstory here? are you a princess or from earth or something?

thank you in advance. sorry if this is a lot. this is just my most anticipated dr!!

Hi! It's lovely to see another winx club shifter <3

did the constant battles ever annoy you?

Yes hahah To be fair, in our first two years we actually didn't go through a lot of fighting. It really amped up when we were dealing with Valtor and the Wizards.

I was really annoyed with the Trix specifically though. Seeing their faces after years of fighting them and years of basically no one else doing anything about them started to really piss me off hahah

what kind of food was served at alfea?? did you join a club or elective while there? if not, can you still tell me what clubs/electives they have??

Well, there was a mix of fairly normal food like fruits and veggies and more fantastical foods like flying cakes. It actually looked a lot like the banquet scenes in Harry Potter!

I really wanted to maximize my exploring time so I didn't join any clubs! It was like any other college though - some clubs were set up by the school (mostly the really popular ones), while others are set up by the students. Most clubs are activities (gardening, flying, cooking, etc) but some were gatherings for certain groups (like the Melodian Students Association). For clubs that are really specific to this DR, there were two flying clubs (one for fast flying and one for "puzzle flying" which is going through changing obstacle courses), a potions club, and the experimental convergence club are some off the top of my head.

As for electives, you could choose from other magical classes or an activity :)

how far in canon did your dr go? and if you went thru s4, what was opening love and pet like? what was the day-to day like while you were on earth? did you ever get sad that you werent in the magic dimension for so long??

I've been in my Specialists DR for about 12 years now! I've been in my Winx Club DR for about 7 years :)

Honestly, "season 4" was probably my least favorite time in both DRs hahah It's a little ironic since it's one of my favorite seasons here, but I haaated being away from all the magic and having to hide it on Earth.

Love and Pet was probably the best part of it though! I loved all the fairy pets so much! Starting it was a little chaotic and honestly the chaos never really stopped since it was so popular, but it was still really fun and completely worth it.

Our day-to-day life was honestly just like a normal Earth day interspersed with fighting the Wizards hahah

also if your dr takes the comics into account, which version of events did your dr follow? im reading the comics rn and the first few days for bloom at alfea are pretty different from the show. also im aware of a lot of silly transformations from the comics. did you gain those?? (foodix, sportix etc)

Yes, both of my Winx Club DRs were a mix of the show, comics, and movies! It mostly follows the show so the "canon" of that is what I experienced with the occasional story line from the comics! For example, the Magical Tournament, Musa starting a practice space for musicians, and some of the various missions.

And yes, hahah I gained the silly ones too (though I did cheat a little and change the look of some of them in my DR so they didn't look silly hahah). Magic of Sports, Magic Rock, and Trendix all looked majorly different!

can you tell me anything about flora and layla/aisha that wasnt in the show??

Hm... Since Andros has more ocean than land, there aren't as many land animals that Androsians eat. Because of this, Aisha cannot eat animal meat, especially red meat. It makes her stomach hurt really bad :(

In my DRs, Flora is really spiritual and superstitious! She doesn't believe in any deities per se, but she does believe in the concept of a shared energy between all living things so she's very careful with how she goes about living. She also regularly talks to non-living things like furniture and her house because she believes that everything has energy to it.

does magix use the same calendar system as us?

Magix had a seasonal calendar system! Other planets also had different systems based on how long it takes to revolve around their star (Solaria and Eraklyon), the rotation of the planet (Melody), or their seasons (Magix, Zenith, and Lynphea).

i saw that you bonded to a pixie. what is it like to hold something that small?? do you experience cuteness aggression lol? what exactly does it feel like to bond with one?

Yes hahah Cherie, my pixie, loves cuddling and physical affection so she was always resting on my shoulder too. I'm definitely more careful and gentle with my movements when she's close to me!

Bonding feels... hm, it's a little hard to explain. It feels like something "clicks" in you. You meet them and you just know that you have a bond! It feels a bit warm and kind of spreads throughout you. Actually, and this is kind of a weird comparison, it's similar to the warm feeling you get when you drink alcohol.

do you still shift here? if so, what do you do now? if you teach at alfea, what's your subject? is your pixie still bonded?

Yes! I've actually been shifting to all of my Winx Club DRs a lot more recently since I've been re-energized because of the reboot (though I'm not sure I'll like it hahah).

In my Winx Club DR, we're basically in season 7! The story and stakes are a bit different, but we're dealing with Kalshara right now. We are still working at Alfea - I'm specifically teaching magical combat and flying strategy with Aisha and Tecna.

And yes, Cherie and I are still bonded :) Bonds last a lifetime!

have you done any traveling for fun? what was the most beautiful place you visited?

Of course! Oh gosh... it's hard to pick just one, and my answer may be a little boring hahah, but if I have to choose, the Elven Kingdom! It reminds me so much of Rivendell from the Lord of the Rings movies!

did the novelty of being in the magic dimension/being a fairy ever wear off, or is every day still exciting?

Yes and no hahah There are definitely things that you just get used to (even using magic), but every now and then I would learn or experience something new and that excitement would bubble up again!

and lastly, what is your backstory here? are you a princess or from earth or something?

Oh, I'm not sure if I've ever shared this here!

I'm from Earth in my Winx Club DR; during the first Fairies vs Wizards War, my ancestor cast a spell on her bloodline to stop magic awakenings until it was safe. So, my magic awakened at the same time Bloom's did! The spell broke with me because it could sense the Dragon.

And no worries about all the questions! I love talking about my Winx Club DRs! I hope you have fun there <3

[fallstaticexit]

When your Gen X, boomer cusp boy mom mother can't read the room to save her life.

AN: If anyone is interested in some more Lyric lore, you can check out my TikTok for part one and part two of her backstory. Trigger Warnings: pregnancy loss, depression.

prev / next

Myrah: Oh, my sweet boys! I missed you so much!

Sonny: So you went and got married, huh? Didn’t think to tell us, mama?

Olive: [whispers] Girl, not your mom getting her groove back.

Lyric: [groans] See, this is what I’m talking about...

Nina: [whispers] This was not on my Myrah visit bingo card.

Ernest: We eloped. Nothing too fancy, since it’s both our second marriage. I can send some photos your way, just got to get them developed.

Mel: Developed?

Myrah: My Ernie is an old soul. Very old school.

Sonny: Uh-huh. How old exactly?

Lyric: Isn’t there a dinner we’re supposed to be eating or something?!

Myrah: Oh, that’s right! Everyone sit, I’ll bring out the food.

Sonny: Yeah, maybe get this man a shirt while you at it..

[awkward silence]

Sonny: How’d you meet my moms, man. What’s all this about?

Mel: This isn’t some life insurance scam, is it?

Myrah: Boys!

Ernest: We met at a Divorce Support Group.

Lyric: [sucks teeth] Why are you still going to those? You were divorced over 30 years ago...

Myrah: There’s no expiration date on support! I can still go. We take a trip to Cancun every year.

Ernest: She was telling her story about being a young mom in a loveless marriage, and I really felt that. I was a young father, too.

Sonny: [grumbles] Tuh. Ya don’t say?

Ernest: I asked her to join me for coffee one day, and well, the rest is history.

Myrah: Ernest completes me. We don’t let things like our age keep us from being happy. Ernest satisfies me in ways you can’t imagine-

[Everyone groans]

Ernest: Meeting your mom really changed my life, kids.

Olive: I get it. It happens to the best of us. I fell in love with a beautiful, elegant, rich older woman, and my life has never been the same. I’ll probably never fall in love again.

Sonny: ?????

Myrah: Thank you, Olivia. Kids, I just want you to be happy for me. Don’t I deserve that?

Lyric: This is weird! You get married without telling anyone, and it’s to some guy who’s like half your age. Why would you think we wouldn’t be upset about this?

Myrah: Well, honey, you’re not a little girl anymore. I can do as I please and not have to tiptoe around what my children think. I’m allowed to live my life however I want.

Ernest: Your mother’s right. And I think if you gave me a chance, I could show you how I can be a great father figure and role model to you and your brothers.

Lyric: Am I in the twilight zone?? What the hell is happening right now??

Ernest: Ah! Little man’s burgers! Must of slipped my mind. I guess age is catching up to me.

Sonny: Mhmmm, which is how old again?

Myrah: I’ll get it. Sit tight, baby.

Lyric: [sneers] You! Did you know about this?

Sonny: What! No!

Mel: I mean, you did say you talk to mom everyday. She never mentioned this?

Olive: Can we get these dishes passed around or...

Sonny: I mean, she mentioned having a friend name Ernest once but I’m thinkin’ he’s some old guy she met!

Ernest: [chuckles] Yeah, I get that alot. I normally go by EJ. Ernest Sr. is my father’s name.

Sonny: Uh-huh... and who yo daddy? Probably went to school with him...

Myrah: Alright, got one burger for my big strong, handsome grandson!

Myrah: What? What’s the matter?

Lyric: Mom, there’s cheese and stuff on it! He doesn’t like that! He’ll only have it plain!

Myrah: Ok! Ok! No problem! I’ll just pluck it off! I-I didn’t know-

Lyric: You would have known if you’d bothered to get to know him at all! You don’t know anything about any of your grandchildren, Mateo especially! All you care about is that he’s a boy.

Lyric: You don’t listen to me when I tell you about things that overwhelm him. You don’t listen to me at all! I’m not going to let you make him feel invisible like you did me.

Myrah: Lyric, wait! Please don’t leave like this! Talk to me, Sunshine!

Olive: Um. Thanks for the to-go plates, Mrs. M. I bet it would have been really good when it was fresh.

[tires screeching]

[nthspecialll]

Hiii! I love all your character analysis posts and theories so much, and was wondering if you have done any theories about where the gang was before Blackwater, by chance? I think I saw a post recently mentioning Montana but I can't for the life of me remember if it was you who posted it or not! 😅

But I've wondered about their locations before RDR2 a lot and would love to hear your thoughts about it. I remember reading a very early page in Arthur's journal about how they were in the Northen Grizzlies? But apart from that I can't remember anything else about locations, if there were any mentioned. And I'm sorry if you have done a post like this already, it's just a little piece of the backstory I'd like to hear theories about 😊

I have not talked about it but I definetely can! Also thank you for liking my stuff!!

Well, firstly, some places that exist in real life does not exist in red dead and those are the places on the map. Texas is New Austin, New Orleans is Saint Denis and Luisiana is Lemoyne, meanwhile Californa and New York does exist in game, meaning we can't completely be sure what places exist unless they are directly mentioned.

Firstly, we know they have been in Chicago, that is where Dutch and Hosea met! Then in 1877 the pair went to Kettering, Ohio, where they scammed 300$ out of the residents, later that year we know that they met Arthur in the Northern states somewhere, which could also be Montana! We do not know more than it was someplace in the North.

We also know some time before they met Arthur, they went to Blackwater once but exactly when we do not know.

In 1885 we know they were in Illinois, saving and picking up John Marston and two years later they robbed their first bank Lee and Hoyt, which we do not know where is.

But between then and 1898, they robbed 36 banks across the frontier as stated by Ross in rdr1, which is where we get the famous "We were told there was a price when we reached 50." The wiki page of the VDL gang does say they came to Montana in 1898 but they won't give me source to confirm it, which is a little annoying, but just mentioning it.

We know at some point between 1893 and 1898, after Bill joining the gang, they went to Canada, him, Arthur and Uncle robbing a bank together.

At some point between 1895 and 1897, we also know they went to Tocson Arizona, where Javier and Arthur robbed a bank together with Karen who dressed up as a nun and hid firearms under her clothing.

We also know that for a while they would return to the same places for Arthur's romances. Both with Eliza, where he could pop by every few months and for Mary, whom they at least returned to after 1894 when Abigail joined, and before the deaths of Annabelle and Bessie.

Either way, now we come to the fun parts, around winter 1898, the gang was up in what is called the Northern Grizzles, we only have access to the western (Around Mount Hagen) and Eastern (O'Creagh's Run), so I would assume that the Northen are outside the map, probably up above the Wapiti Reservation somewhere.

They traveled down the "Western Foothill of the mountians", not sure what road they took as it could be one off map, which I would honestly guess, probably traveling around the cold of Colter and coming in from left side of the map. Either way, they most likely ended up somewhere down by and Big Valley, which can match up with the fact that Arthur mentions that life was good and food was easy to find. That area does have a lot of easy food access and so forth.

Now I have seen a few people say Dutch met Micah in Strawberry, which is honestly very fair assumption, it matches up with a lot, but a simple fact is forgotten, Strawberry does not have a bar, which is where they met.

I would say that Micah most likely had been in Strawb and done, whatever business he had with Slim and Martha (I believe their names were), and traveled up and out of map where he met Dutch and then decided to join them back down.

Afterwards they traveled down to Blackwater where they "hid in plain sight" right outside town as Arthur says he does not like being so close to the town, and considering how close they were to Valentine, I would guess they camped at the ledges where Charles and Javier hides when going to find Sean, either there or the other side of the town.

Blackwater Camp:

But even though they were camped so close to down, Arthur funnily enough still stayed in town from time to time. It does however not seem that they were settled there or in Big Valley for very long, as Arthur also says that they have been running more than normally those weeks.

Now we get to a bit that confuses me because suddenly the group goes from the southern part of the map down in Blackwater, to suddenly appearing up by Spider Grove by Colter, and Arthur mentions that they headed "east over the Grizzlies" so they went west from Blackwater, out of the map, and then up North only to go east again. Not to mention that it seems they did it in a fairly short time, they haven't had proper time to talk about what happened, they were still shook, Davey was not yet dead from a gut wound and Jenny was burried not far from where we first see the gang?

See that is a little confusing, but I hope that answers your question! I had a lot of fun answering it at least, rereading Arthur's journal and all.