#but what does it matter it all hurts in the same inescapable way

[defiantly-ageis]

.

[nrdmssgs]

Idk man but like bondage with Nikto but he's in a mood and he's just overwhelming you both emotionally and mentally because he knows how powerless it is to be tied up. I. Need to be spayed.

Masterlist

"Sokrovishe*?"

Your palms, pressed together, are sweaty and cold. Contrary to that feeling, a heat runs up your neck and face. One wave after another. You try to fight the panic off, but it only grows. What if this all really was a bad idea? What if he loses control, what if one of the others comes in the light. You're certain, he won't ever hurt you, but what makes you so sure about them being on the same side. Do they sympathize you? Do his other voices even know you?

You thought it over, fantasized, craved. You asked for this. For many times. And now, your body is in a desperate state of an overdrive despite Nikto having just undressed you and tied up your wrists. The dim lights around grow weaker, the room starts spinning lightly.

"Sokrovishe?" His voice takes the pieces of your scattering mind back together. You suck in a breath and look around. Return to him, to this room, on this bed, where you kneeled for him.

You turn back and meet his eyes, looking down on you. His gaze travels down your back, as Nikto is weighing his options, planning, assessing. He's not in a hurry, a couple of times a short chuckle escapes his lips and hits his mask that muffles every sound. You wonder if he watches his targets on the battlefield like that? Calculated and calm in every his motion, yet clearly amused, intrigued by how long can his prey stay so oblivious.

You try to explain, that you haven't changed your mind, and you still want him to... finally do all these pretty things, he's been whispering in your ears for so long. But you are able to cough up only an indistinguishable babbling, so he commands you to turn away.

You look right before you and almost immediately feel the bed dipping under his weight. Turning your back to a wild cat is practically asking to get attacked. Turning your back to whatever animal this man right now is may turn out a dangerous carelessness.

You feel his fingertips meeting your skin and swallow audibly. His touch does not linger on your arm, fingers running up to your shoulder, sending shivers to your back. Niktos grip on your shoulder is soft, yet inescapable. Other hand falls on your chest and pushes lightly, guiding you to lean back on his broad body.

"Breathe for me, ok?" And he guides you through a few cycles of breathing until your mind and heart stop racing. It's only then when you truly come back to him, relax.

He didn't need just a doll to tie up and fuck mercilessly - he needed your complete trust. And as soon as you give it to him - you feel a smooth double rope covering a line across your chest for the first time.

Nikto is delicate, almost too delicate for a man, who knows too many ways to harm someone so badly, they do whatever he wants them to, suffer an ungodly amount of pain and still live through this. But with you, it's another matter: you're not a target - you're a promise, a faint hope for the possibility of a real life, payment for all the horror he had experienced. Your body is not an instrument - it's a treasure. There's an invisible map, he drew on you long time ago. And now he covers a line after line, he imagined on your skin all this time, with ropes, marking every important point with perfect knots.

He commands you to take a deep breath in and you start feeling it in your shoulders and across your chest, what he planned for you. He binds you tight just enough for you to realize: Nikto is not trying to just immobilize you - he is putting pressure, enveloping you in an ornament that makes you finally let go of fears. You're protected, treasured, taken care of. This must be, how ancient warriors felt, when their shaman drew his secret signs with scarlet clay on their bodies.

The absolute trust should be preserved. And Nikto weaves his spells around your body, breathes in unison with you, whispers praises. He pulls the knot, moving your hands up, but it doesn't scare you, that he has the power over your movements now. You don't feel like a puppet - you feel like a weighless bird, leaning on warm wind streams. Your fingers are sprawled feathers, you don't really cry or mule - you sing your bird song in his arms. Nikto listens carefully to your body and gives you exactly what you needed.

A comfort of not being in charge, a sanctuary of turning into something simultaneously more and less than your body. Rope coiling around flesh, hugging it firmly, stiffening and stretching with your breaths. A bliss of being his.

Sokrovishe - treasure

[c-is-for-circinate]

MCU Rewatch #1: IRON MAN

General Impressions: Yes, good, it holds up, thank god.

I want to write ten thousand words of meta about how this movie redefined the superhero genre of its day. I had to cut this post down SO MUCH, guys, you don't even know.

Not only is it still really entertaining, there is enough in this movie to be really worth picking apart. It's a fascinating entrant into this whole marathon, because as the first movie, it doesn't have anything else in the franchise to fall back on. This was a standalone shot in the dark, an attempt to make a blockbuster out of a superhero nobody had heard of and a washed-up actor who'd last been notable as a random love interest on Ally McBeal. It had to stand on its own merits, no greater universe to buoy it up, and it did.

I am going to have to write a separate post about the things that Iron Man promised us for this franchise, and how the rest of the MCU did or did not deliver. Damnit.

The Hero: Tony Stark is a fascinating guy.

Iron Man does a really good job of embracing him as a flawed disaster of a man who's a victim of his own good fortune: this guy is both the smartest and the richest man in very nearly every room he's ever been in, and it has made him a mess.

His emotional journey is believable and clearly shown. Tony flips his entire life upside down to go from arms dealer to superhero, except the whole movie makes it very clear that literally every step of the way he's being impossibly, inescapably himself with it. The man who doesn't give a shit about his very prestigious award is the same man who doesn't give a shit about his stock prices tanking or weapons dev being the entire foundation of his company. Part of why it works so well for Tony to out himself as Iron Man at the end of the movie is because in every possible way, they're the same guy -- ostentatious, flamboyant, dramatic, incredibly intense about some things and super blase about others, obsessive, superhuman on the skin and very human underneath.

Compared to brooding Christopher Nolan Batman or the pressures and anxieties of Sam Raimi Spiderman, both of whom are constantly preoccupied with questions of Good and Evil, Tony feels like a creature from a completely different genre. It's effective, unique, and well-carried by the movie.

The Villain: Pretty solid!

Obadiah Stane is a well-executed foil to Tony, which is exactly what this movie needs. He's contained and responsible where Tony's wild. He's respectable. And yet, so much of this movie is about complacency. Tony was too busy being a playboy bouncing off the walls to pay attention to who his fortune and his company hurt. Obie paid attention to all of it, and decided he didn't care. The movie ends up saying some interesting things, this way, about carelessness vs. callousness. Tony and Obie working together destroyed a lot of lives, but carelessness can be fixed, if you're smacked in the face with what you've done. Obie looked the man he half-raised in the face and tried to murder him in person when the hands off method failed.

The bit where this sixty-something-year-old multimillionaire businessman decided that what he really needed to do to secure his fortune and future, was personally get in the robotic suit and try to kill Tony himself? That's definitely leaning into genre conventions at the expense of logic. But hey, it's a superhero movie. Sometimes you have to let these things go.

The Ensemble: Thematic and relevant.

There are really only three other characters who matter in the movie: Yinsin, Pepper, and Rhodey. Yinsen is a pretty standard 'older mentor who dies to set the hero off on his journey,' and he fulfills his extremely classic role suitably. Pepper's an intelligent, competent love interest whose emotions towards her boss and friend are believably complex. Both good!

Rhodey is so interesting to me, on this rewatch. He's the one person who's put forth as Tony's actual friend, rather than a coworker, although they both occupy a similar professional space. He tries hard to be a good friend! But Rhodey is a part of the military-industrial complex, and when Tony comes back from the desert and starts to rock the boat -- when he stops playing along, stops wanting to build weapons, stops playing the game -- then Rhodey is there to try and nudge him back. You must have PTSD, Rhodey and Pepper think. You're making strange decisions. We've all been living in and benefiting from this system forever, what's wrong with you that it's suddenly a problem now? It was understated, but well done for what it was.

The Plot: Reasonably sensical!

The plot of Iron Man is easy to follow, maintains good tension throughout, and ties well together beginning to end. I don't have a lot to say about this one that I didn't already cover above, I'm just prepared for a slog through movies where "this plot makes sense" is a sky-high bar, so the fact that Iron Man not only clears that but does so enjoyably and well is pretty great.

The Franchise: It's hard to talk about how Iron Man relates to the movies that came before it when there are none, and talking about how it inspires the movies that come next is a WHOLE separate essay. Skip this one.

VERDICT: A solid 8/10

I know that for the MCU, this is pretty high on the list of movies that manage to be good at all, but I'm entering into this experience with an open mind and a willingness to discover that many of these movies are better than I actually expect. Iron Man is a very good superhero movie. I will probably watch it again someday, and I am not sad I watched it again now.

[cosmicjoke]

No Words

God damn, God DAMN, I finally had a chance to sit down and watch Part 3 of the Final Season of “Attack on Titan”, and I really just have no words.  I’m just completely blown away.  MAPPA has done such an indescribably stellar job on every part of this last arc of maybe the greatest story ever written in manga form, and they do not disappoint here.  The gravitas of this hour long episode, including the naked brutality of the opening showing us the true horror of the Rumbling, and Eren’s own monstrosity, was one of the most amazing things I’ve ever had the true privilege to see in animation.  This isn’t a children’s show, as the manga itself was never a children’s story.  This is one of the most intensely relevant and truthful depictions I’ve ever seen of not only the horrors of war and violence, but the tragedy of the human condition.  They not only left Isayama’s panels uncensored here, but even added scenes which drove home the true brutality and tragedy of what Eren was doing.  Seriously, that entire opening sequence left me breathless.  I was just sitting here, stunned, while watching it. Again, this story is such an unvarnished and sincere look at the tragedy of war and the human capacity for violence, and really, in many ways, the inescapability of that nature within us.  I’ve always applauded Isayama for his commitment to that tragedy, and not giving in to the temptation of a happy ending in which all is well and right with the world, in which Eren is able to be redeemed, in which the cycle of violence is miraculously stopped.  Like Erwin once said, as long as there is more than one person, there will always be war.  And this episode by MAPPA captured that deeply dark, ugly and somber reality with such immensity and truth. It’s one of the greatest pieces of cinema I’ve ever seen. That really isn’t hyperbole.  I had tears in my eyes at several points watching this episode.  The cinematic quality and standard of MAPPA’s work remains as first rate as ever.

Hange’s moment, man... Again, I’m left speechless.  Hange really was the hero of this episode.  Their sacrifice, and the way it was rendered here by MAPPA, again, the brutality of it (and I know I keep using that word, but I really can’t find any other), watching them take down Colossal Titan after Colossal Titan, before finally succumbing to the heat, the way they caught on fire, and yet even still, as they were burning alive, they continued to fight and managed to take out one last Titan... Ah, it’s got me all fucked up just thinking about it.  They truly gave their all in the end to save humanity. 

And their farewell with Levi, just... oof, man.  Hange really was Levi’s last, remaining friend from the old days, and he has to watch them go, and there’s nothing he can do to save them, nothing he can do to help.  Another burden on his shoulders, another sense of his immense strength failing to matter.  And again, I have to commend MAPPA here, and their attention to detail.  Levi’s difficulty in even squeezing the trigger of his ODM gear drove home just how WEAK Levi still is at this point in the story.  For all the people that try to criticize him for not being able to do more, for not being enough of a force in the final battle, I think this one, small scene of his physical frailty should shut all those people up.  Because it makes crystal clear to the audience just how physically hurt Levi is, how he’s joining his comrades through nothing but sheer will alone.  His difficulty in performing a physical task which, through this ENTIRE series, Levi was more adept at, more capable of, more powerful in, than any other character, and yet, his hands shake here, and he has to grit his teeth and struggle to accomplish it, it proves Levi’s dedication and determination, even through his own deep impairment.  He’s in no shape to be fighting, and yet he does.  He has to, and he does.  That, like Hange, is the choice of a hero.

The same to all the cast.  Armin, Mikasa, Reiner, Jean, Connie, Pieck, and even Annie, eventually. 

I think MAPPA did an incredible job of conveying the true hopelessness of this situation.  The absolutely minuscule chances of success.  And yet here we are, our hero’s arriving to do what they can, regardless of the odds. 

And then there’s Eren.  Eren, who I will always maintain is one of the most compelling and tragic character’s I’ve ever seen.  While we see his undoubted and terrifying monstrosity on full display, and we understand truly, without question, that he has become the villain of this story, we also see in the flashback to his time in Marley, and his interaction with Ramzi, Eren’s humanity, his remorse, his self-loathing, and his regret.  And it’s that humanity we see in Eren, that genuine horror at what he knows he’s going to do, that makes his final actions all the more horrific and unforgivable.  Because he IS human.  He isn’t a monster.  He’s a human being.  And he chooses to do this.  He chooses to, because he WANTS to, just like he admits tearfully and with genuine remorse to Ramzi.  Is there anything more heartbreaking than that?  Eren’s betrayal of humanities hope is so impactful and so hard to accept because of that humanity.  Because we learned to love and care for and root for him over the entire course of this long journey, only to see him fail so utterly.  My heart bleeds for Eren, even as I know he’s become an unredeemable monster. 

My hat’s off to MAPPA, man.  I’m just floored by this first part of “Attack on Titan’s” conclusion.  I couldn’t be more impressed, or more satisfied with the seriousness with which this very serious story is treated here.  This is art, truly.  This is a story which speaks with total sincerity to the human condition.  And MAPPA has brought it so spectacularly to life.  Thank you MAPPA, and most of all, thank you Hajime Isayama for writing this incredible tale of human will, determination, dreams, triumph, tragedy, violence, cruelty, hate, fear, love, friendship and hope. 

I’m gonna’ stop now before I make myself cry.

I don’t think there’s ever going to be another manga or anime that hits harder or means more than “Attack on Titan”.  It’s truly a masterpiece, and in a class all it’s own. 

[iibonniee]

Cherry Lip Gloss | Part 2

Pairing: Im Changkyun x Reader

Genre: Angst

Warnings: totally fucking angst, no fluff (i got rid of that and this mini series has none of that), mentions of drinking, semi stalking (?) author almost cried

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 2.2k

Masterlist | Part One

Alcohol and a soft, crisp breeze.

Leather kept tan skin warm as the trees did another wave, allowing cool air to whisk away the once bearable air. Everything was silent besides the sound of water crashing on rocks. Not a single soul. Just silence and nature. Lips met the rim of the beer bottle; a long drag, then a mournful sigh. It had an addictive taste. To enjoy something so deadly will always come at an untimely cost.

Somber brown eyes met and enjoyed the view of the sun meeting the ocean. The sun seemed at peace, no matter what cycle it had gone through. He appeared at peace. He wished he was at peace. Rosy red cheeks had the cool breeze nipping away at him without much care. His vision blurred for only a moment, and he blinked away the threat of tears.

Inhale, hold it in, exhale. Don’t think about the consequences.

He didn’t. Instead, he listened to the same sound of the waves hitting the rocks while his mind continued on with the war he had wanted to desperately forget about. Life was never a kind thing. Not back then, and certainly not now. A man so broken is never meant to be fixed. All the pieces were lost where he once walked. Never to be recovered or fixed.

There was no way for him to collect them. To fix a hollow shell that was cracked beyond repair. A man who’s been through it all will certainly never see the bright side of it. Not him. It felt like his fate was set in stone. That this was the life he was meant to live. One so painful, yet the pain is never physical. His heart is the main victim in this story.

Don’t close your eyes. Never allow the tears to show. You’re stronger than that.

Strength. He was losing it. Each time the seconds met the minute and the minute met the hour, the feeling of growing weaker was welcomed. A quick swirl, brown eyes watched as the liquid swirled around in the bottle, soon growing still just seconds later.

Being envious is a nasty trait for anyone to have. How could a man be envious that the sky had the sun? That the moon had the stars? It was a question nobody could answer. It would only swarm around one’s mind until the day they took their last breath.

Stupid decisions come with stupid outcomes. Don’t think about it.

Does a heart realize how broken it is right away, or was there a waiting period? The sound of waves was just a mere distraction from heartbreak. Brown eyes once again blinked rapidly to avoid the onslaught of begging tears. A head shake, then a sigh.

End of the bottle, end of the road road. A path he walked down, but with every turn, he found it led to a steep drop to death. With a flick, the glass bottle flew almost in slow motion to the wet rocks below. Brown eyes watched closely as it bounced off one rock, then two, and landed. Unbroken and surviving.

How could one be envious that an object found a steady spot to land while the man with a beating heart felt like he was falling? Perfectly intact while his own beating heart was broken beyond repair. Large, shaky hands found a tired face to cover. Count to ten, and everything will be okay.

Blink the tears away. Don’t be a fool.

The heart knew what was happening. It was breaking while beating a steady and healthy beat. How does it hurt so much? Why does it hurt so much? He knew. But a brain so smart was attempting to save a heart from cracking anymore.

How many times does a heart have to beat to know when it will be okay? How many gasps of air are needed to feel like one is breathing properly?

Hell felt like a place on earth. Slowly waiting for one to accept that there was never a bright side. And god, was it ugly. An inescapable place. A suffering.

Accept what happened and move on. Living in the past will not allow you to move on.

Move on. It's such an easy thing to think about, but when one is faced with the task, it’s simply complicated. A task often unbearable and unbeaten. But time still ticked an ugly and nasty beat that he had wished would pause for a moment and allow him to take a break. How could he move on when it came down to feeling like the past was all he had?

A past with good memories. Memories that brought ease and not pain. An ear that would listen to a story that happened during the night was now an ear that would listen to another.

Breaks don’t happen. Learn to keep going.

But heartbreaks happen. Months, no, a year, and it was still the same. A constant cycle of rinse and repeat. Throw a smile, walk proudly, and don’t let them know. Smile. If they see, they’ll show pity, and pity is for the weak.

Love was always such a nasty thing. A pain that one could think about for a lifetime. That he would think about for a lifetime. Hands found warmth in the pockets of leather jackets in attempts to find something but came back with nothing. Not even enough money for another bottle.

Give yourself time. Take it slow. It will be okay.

A scoff, then a sarcastic laugh. Slow was never enough. Slow can never be enough. Taking it slowly only meant he would learn what it meant to break. Three times, only to be met with a wave. What went wrong? What did he do wrong? Why was he such a fool?

Don’t think about it. You’re damaging your heart more.

A blink, then eyelids decided to remain shut. For a mind not to think about hurting a heart more was a task in itself. A life that was meant to only experience nothing more, but pain and loss were what he would have to accept for himself.

His heart was aching, begging for anything, hoping to take the pain away. A shaky, pathetic breath came from him. A life where he could be happy was nowhere to be seen. Not even in one’s wildest dreams. He fucking hated having to pretend to be happy.

Your heart is in shambles. It’s broken beyond repair. She hurt you.

He shook his head. No. His mind wouldn’t shut up for even a moment. The growing aggravation was enough to drive a sane man mad. Teeth gritted together in an attempt to suppress an emotional scream. He couldn't bear anyone else hearing that.

A heart fighting with the mind. An ugly one that not even a voice from an angel could calm it down. This was hell. His heart was going through hell.

You hurt her. You didn’t mean to. You watched her leave.

Three times was too much but always felt like it was too little. There are too many chances to ruin something but too few to keep it going. A man so broken was undeserving of love. Love was never meant for someone like him.

Brown eyes watched as the waves soon grew closer to the water’s edge, of how the jealousy was real. He could leave. Never turn back. But why would he? Home was here. Home was where she could possibly return.

It’s okay. You’ll be okay. I promise.

Promise. Every person has heard that seven-letter word throughout their lives—more times than they can count. He’s heard it. It’s hard to believe anything would be okay when an outsider could see that his life was nothing more than a mess that could never be fixed.

Getting lost in a trance, his mind didn’t even realize the sun finally met the sky for a kiss goodbye. Stars now out, wishing everyone had a good day while the sun had said its goodbye no less than ten minutes ago.

Brown eyes were met with darkness, and eyelids greeted someone whenever they shut for more than a second. For a moment, silence was all that could be enjoyed. His heart was silent and steadily beating as his brain finally stopped arguing with his heart.

You can’t hide from your demons forever. It will be fine.

He couldn’t remember the walk to his car or the long drive back to the dorms. He knew the buzz from the alcohol had long since worn off with the sun's departure. All he knew was that he stood there almost awkwardly. How could one feel so unwelcome in a home that was their own?

“Changkyun.” He didn’t realize his eyes were closed momentarily, not even when he had been silently counting to ten to calm his unknown nerves. Eyes now opened in shock, they met with old but familiar eyes.

Count to ten if anything gets worse. You can't always hide from your demons, Changkyun.

His mouth opened and then shut. How does one feel like they’re suffering while the steady flow of oxygen flows through so easily without missing a single beat?

How could he feel so damn pathetic under their gaze? Why did he come inside? Why was he hyperventilating? And why did it feel like the world was against him constantly?

“I–” A stumbling idiot. His breath caught in his throat as he watched their worried eyes. Even as the days turned to months and the months finally met the year, he grew to hate how their eyes never hid the worry. “I’m fine.”

Lying always comes at a cost. You should know this.

“You’re not fine, Changkyun.” Hyunwoo was the first to speak up. Changkyun hated this. He hated the little interventions they threw at him. He was fine. He swears.

“Talk to us. Stop shutting us out.” It was Jooheon who spoke up next. The worry that laced their voices caused him to hate himself. If he wasn’t so addicted to the thing of the past, he wouldn’t be the cause of all their worries. He wouldn’t be the cause of all the tension and finger-pointing he knew they did behind his back.

“I just want to be alone.” His body was on autopilot. Quick strides took him to his room, where the door was locked, and the voices outside calling his name were blocked out. His phone was in his hands in seconds, and once again, on autopilot, he found himself searching for her name on Instagram. Thankful she hadn't blocked him.

The more you break your heart, the harder it is to repair it. Stop doing this to yourself.

He knew it was wrong. He knew it was wrong to ignore the pleas of the other members, but he also knew it was wrong to not give his heart a break. Shaky hands clicked on the first picture that popped up on her page. A beautiful diamond ring, her nails done to perfection, and a caption that eagerly said, “I said yes! I can’t wait to take your last name.”

And god did that fucking hurt.

Tears rushed to brim his eyes like a broken dam. His usual choked sob that he tried to silence wouldn’t fall for the command this time. It bounced off the four walls, back into his ears, and under the door's crack.

You’re breaking your own heart. You can be happy with someone else. Stop doing this to yourself.

He was a fool. How many times must he beat himself up and apologize for her to know he’s being honest? Must he rip his heart out to show her how broken it is? Must he break down in front of an audience and sing her name out just to get her back?

He hated this unknown man. He hated how his thoughts were quick to act and go against him. He shouldn’t be in her life. He was an imposter. Unimportant to the story, to their story.

He treats her well, I bet. Holds her tight at night. He surely wouldn’t do what you did.

“Stop it.” Changkyun’s choked-out sob was louder than before. “Stop working against me. Please.”

His pleas fell on deaf ears. He knew his heart was in a war with his brain. One would surely fall victim to either love or hate eventually.

Stop making stupid decisions you know your heart won’t be able to repair. Don’t call her.

He knew his heart was already a broken vessel that couldn’t be repaired anymore. Shaky fingers and blurred eyes quickly dialed the number the other members kept deleting.

One ring turned into two, two into three, then, “Hello?”

He knew this was wrong. It was so fucking wrong. It was wrong to call, and it was unfair she picked up.

“Changkyun?”

His world stopped, and his breath caught in his throat as he heard her say his name oh so softly. The tears couldn’t be stopped. He was choking on the sob that couldn’t previously escape, and he worried it would scare her off.

What was he to say? His previous attempts at begging her to come back always quickly fell on deaf ears. How could he do this to himself? Why would he do this to himself?

Because you’re a fool in love, Changkyun.

[clockworkcourier]

The staircase up to the observatory is excruciating. Max tries to turn his hearing aids off to block out the noise, but his Shadow is a step and a half ahead of him, filtering sounds directly into his brain matter. Jeering laughter, scorn, rage, cold dismissal—words in German and English and shadowy flickers of signing hands—all inescapable.

You're never leaving this place—

—only an inconvenience!

—wish you'd never been b—

He can't hear us anyway, so don't bother—

—hate the way you look at me like that!

—slow to develop. Some children just advance differently, like—

Too bad! Maybe you could have made something of yourself if you had just—

He tries to block it out with anything. Hearing aids off, hands over his ears, eyes screwed shut; finally he dissolves into wails, then screams until his voice goes hoarse and he can't go on. His legs stumble on the stairs, hard edges biting into his knees. Tears burn, then itch on his face. All he wants to do is curl in on himself and wait until his Shadow finally finishes him off for good.

But every time—every time, he makes it to the observatory.

It becomes clear that his Shadow doesn't want to kill him directly. Instead, it wants to make his despair so poignant, so viscerally real that when it finally shows him the observatory in all its beauty, Max will finish himself off. The staircase is a reminder of how awful his life's been up until this point, but gazing up at the indifferent heavens through the telescope's lens, seeing how beautiful everything is beyond his tiny world—who wouldn't want to find it for themselves?

"All you have to do is take the leap," his Shadow tells him, grinning behind the shadow of the telescope. It gestures to the doorway leading out to the balcony, and Max knows the railing is waist-high. It wouldn't take much to—

"No," Max replies. He says it every day, every time his Shadow brings him here.

"It will only hurt for a moment. A pang, and then bliss. Then that," it replies, gesturing up to the glittering canopy of stars, nebulas, galaxies. Everything Max has studied throughout the years, yearned for.

Max stays silent. Every day.

His Shadow breaks into a wide smile that would never fit on Max's face. Its eyes look owlishly huge behind its glasses, labcoat hanging loosely on its shoulders. "Besides, what's waiting for you back home? More of the same? Parents pitting you against a sister who hates you? People who couldn't care less if you lived or died? When you die here, it'll take weeks for anyone to notice. But out there—" It points back at the heavens. "You'll be infinite, Max. Everywhere and nowhere all at once."

And Max does what he always does. He stands up, feeling a resolution that doesn't belong to him—hope, he thinks—and turns his back on his Shadow. He goes back downstairs, down to a quiet, dark level of the observatory that looks like a monochrome version of his office at the engineering firm.

Tomorrow, he'll climb those stairs again, subjecting himself to torture until his Shadow makes those beautiful promises.

And tomorrow, one more time, he'll hope someone comes to help.

[ationless-motive]

In so many ways I envy trans people. I envy their certainty in who they are, no matter how tenuous it is they at least have it, and god damn do I want that too. I want the euphoria of learning and working towards being myself. I want to give meaning to the gnawing ache of my hollowed out identity and fill it with the beauty of life and color.

I wish I could say I lay awake at night wondering and pondering and philosophizing about some aspect of transhood, yadda yadda. But I don't. I curl in bed too scared to ever experience the too-full silence of night where both crickets and my thoughts live, in a safe bubble of noise and dim light created by GeminiTay videos and Game Grumps compilations because god forbid I face the dark. Because it hurts to think about transhood. It hurts to imagine the joy trans people when they find comfort in themselves, hurts to imagine the joy transfemmes find when they can finally look at themselves in a mirror, hurts to imagine the certainty and strength transmascs find in the masculinity I've always resented, hurts to imagine how freeing letting go of being one or the other must be for those in between or outside the binary. It hurts, because I can't help but rejoice in and be happy for the beauty of personhood I see from them and what they feel, but I'm crushed by the envy of wanting to feel it all too.

I want to love myself. I want so desperately to be happy with my personage, with my identity, with my body, with whatever desiccated fucking heap my gender is. I want it. I want it, and they have it, and it's so hard not to feel like it's not fair. I bury myself under the shame of knowing I'm in some way romanticizing a struggle I know nothing about, all because I'm so lost in my own bullshit. I have no place in glorifying the very real lived experiences of others just to create some imaginary greener grass for me to yearn for. I have no fucking right to the trans experience.

Because I'm not trans. How could I be? I can't even figure out gender. Even a fucking decade after highschool I'm still frozen in the same spot, with the same confusions and self loathings, only made more rich and nuanced with the passage of time. I keep my head down, I make no waves, I take up no space. I don't grow. I don't change. I stay the same inert dead thing that doesn't age, only weather away. Being trans is about change isn't it? It's about a transformation of being? It's gotta be something. It's gotta be. Because how could it be this? This fucking impossible indefinable inescapable fear-thats-not-even-fear-anymore feeling that is constantly fucking suffocating me!? How in the fucking hell is it this!? Why can't I fucking name it why does it hurt and why can't I move past it or recognize it or name it like everyone else!? Why am I the only one still fucking confused? Why the hell was I born like this? Why? Why?

Why?

Why do I keep telling myself I'm not trans? When a part of me yearns for femininity. When I can't escape the memory of the time I tried to paint my own nails and spiraled and cried and doused my hand in nail polish like water onto a fire because I messed up and got the polish on my skin. Because I didn't know you could use cotton swabs to ease away any fumbles and slips. Because no one taught me, because I was too scared to learn, because I was a fucking idiot for thinking I deserved to have beautiful nails or to feel good about how I look. But it's not like I'm trans or anything. Because if I was it'd make all of... Everything so much harder, I guess. And god of it's not hard enough already.

There's so much more in my life that makes me feel like I should be more certain. Even if I know uncertainty is par for the course, and that it's silly for me to wish for the binary black-and-white yes-or-no certainty of "Am I Cis or Am I Trans?". I should be sure by now, shouldn't I? For god sakes I'm almost 28.

So I just lay here curled up crying in bed typing this out. Alone in this stew of my own self loathing and confusing feelings and envy towards trans people who have figured at least some parts of themselves out.

But I'm pretty sure I'm just being an idiot. Maybe the reason I don't feel trans is because I in some way 'other' transhood, make it into something external and outside of myself because I see it as a community of people I'm not a part of. I see queerness in general as a community I'm not a part of, because how can I be a part of it? How could I possibly belong to any group? I've spent so much of my life balancing between being discarded and "tolerated".

[fushiglow]

On Yuji and Megumi

Adding some more to this because of what the brilliant @posletsvet left in the tags! I've reformatted them for readability because everyone should read Arina's additions:

This is what I keep referring to as personal truths that make up the kernel of meaning at the heart of JJK. This is what (and I'm going to sum it up roughly here) Yuuji means when he says that he still cannot say definitely whether humans are fundamentally good or evil, because there isn't a single ultimate point of reference which the world in its great absurd complexity could be measured by. It's all a matter of perspective and the way we conceive of something tells more about us ourselves than about the target of our perception. Trying to apply a rigid mentality that allows no room for nuance to a complex reality is inherently fallible. That's what broke Geto in the end. Glo, I absolutely love how you pointed out the way this notion shines perhaps the most strongly and clearly through Gojo and Megumi's characters. “I think your way of going about life is also right, but it doesn't mean that mine isn't." Refreshing the early chapters in my memory has accidentally led to me rediscovering this treasure that came out of Megumi's mouth. There are also Kenjaku's words on how Gojo is the strongest when he's alone, and yet he makes a deliberate choice to expose himself to this weakness by surrounding himself with allies. He does care. He does care so much, but he does so in a way that correlates with his own life experiences and his perspective, but it doesn't mean that his way of showing compassion is wrong or invalid.

I never stop being amazed by @posletsvet's beautiful brain!

The only reason I shared this post in the first place was because I saw some analysis almost pitting Gojo and Megumi against one another, implying that Megumi's preferred way of living is the "right" one, but also that Gojo tried to force his beliefs and goals onto Megumi. Through doing that, it also implied that Yuji handled the situation better than Gojo when he stood in his place.

However, as Arina points out above, JJK has repeatedly rejected the idea that we can ascribe rigid moral values to people and/or their actions, and Arina also reminds us that Megumi literally says this himself! I've yapped about this time and time again, but the premise of karma is central to Megumi's character. Through a karmic lens, all actions form part of an interconnected web of causes and their effects. In this way, we can say that characters are only ever reacting to the circumstances around them — and this applies to everyone in JJK.

Gojo and Megumi are actually very similar as characters, despite the obvious differences in their personalities. They are young sorcerers with powerful inherited techniques born into clan families which heap great expectations onto their shoulders. Gojo had even less choice in the matter than Megumi did — the Six Eyes are literally entangled with fate, the course his life took was inescapable until Megumi's father broke the chains of fate.

When that happened, Gojo tried to offer Megumi a choice. However, he could only work within the confines of his circumstances and within the context of his own experiences. The same goes for Yuji — but even he admitted that, in the past, he wouldn't have been able to empathise with Megumi. It's only through enrolling in the school under Gojo's tutelage that he came to understand Megumi's perspective. It's that chain of cause and effect which makes it impossible to identify a single person or action as "good" in isolation.

Additionally, I think one could argue that Yuji gave Megumi no more of a choice than Gojo did. If it's the choice between hurting himself by fighting or hurting Yuji by giving up, isn't that forcing Megumi's hand the same way the mention of Tsumiki's potential mistreatment by the Zen'ins did? The truth is, characters never really have a choice in JJK — but that, too, is just a matter of perspective. It's equally valid to say we always have a choice. It's nihilism through two different lenses — either nothing matters or everything matters.

(I have a SatoSugu WIP about this, it's a university AU about the intersection of Nietzsche and Mahayana Buddhism and theoretical physics, god help me!)

We have to stop trying to fit these characters — but more importantly, real people — into neat little boxes simply because it makes it easier to hold up our worldview. Let Gojo and Megumi and Yuji and your mootie and your neighbour and your mortal enemy and everyone else be multifaceted and complicated the way human beings inherently are. Even when faced with terrible actions, we always have a choice in how we react. Let's take a leaf out of Yuji's book by choosing empathy and kindness.

Gojo cares a lot, actually

Perspective and empathy in Jujutsu Kaisen

Once again, I see accusations that Gojo only cared about people in relation to their strength. I can't believe that 236 and 261 haven't put this idea to bed already, but let's go over it again for the class. Here are some thoughts on the importance of perspective and empathy in JJK. Spoilers for chapter 266 ahead!

In 236, Gojo tells Geto he loves everyone. This single line, direct from the man's mouth, should be enough. However, moments later, Nanami says, "You never cared about protecting people". So why do some readers only take one of these perspectives at face value?

Perspective matters in JJK. Often, characters and even the narrator state things that are only true from their perspective in a given moment. What you choose to believe says more about you than it does about them — an idea I explored in my analysis of 236.

This is particularly important when it comes to Gojo and Megumi, because the moment they meet is the only (?) scene in the whole of JJK that we get to see from two perspectives.

The second time, the reader understands the emotional weight of it for Gojo — but Megumi doesn't. He's kept in the dark, so of course he thinks about their meeting in different terms.

Once again, whose perspective are we going to take at face value? From Megumi's point of view, he wasn't offered a choice. From Gojo's point of view, he extended to a child the little agency available to him.

Offering a choice is something Gojo does consistently throughout JJK — pick your hell. It's one of the ways he shows care for others that goes unrecognised, so it's ironic that readers and characters alike misinterpret it for a lack of empathy. However, this is no coincidence.

For much of the series, Gege keeps Gojo at a narrative distance from the reader. Most of what we know about Gojo comes from what other characters tell us, and our view of him is therefore coloured by their perspective.

However, while Gojo laments the distance between himself and others, he fails to recognise that he's the one maintaining it — and not because of his strength or his technique. He has admirable goals, but he chooses to work towards them alone.

There are many occasions where characters reach for Gojo, but he refuses to let them past his metaphorical Infinity out of a sense of duty and perhaps misplaced belief that he alone can or should bear this heavy burden.

All of Gojo's actions are about preserving the humanity of others at the expense of his own. That's precisely why he chooses to become the "monster" alone. In this way, Gojo is flawed but he isn't uncaring. Again, it's a matter of perspective.

Gojo sees strength as the solution because it's all he's ever known. However, recognising the strength of others doesn't mean that's all he sees — because Gojo knows that dehumanisation acutely. What's more, 261 also suggests he thinks of "strength" in different terms to others.

When they meet, Gojo tells Megumi not to get left behind. However, he later says he was "left behind" when Geto defected. We know Gojo's physical strength eclipsed Geto's, yet Gojo only refers to himself as "the strongest" alone after Geto dies.

Before that point, there's nothing in the text to suggest that Gojo ever stopped thinking of the pair of them as "the strongest" — as a unit, as a duo. This suggests that strength, for Gojo, is something much more intangible, much more sympathetic, and much more human too.

What do the strongest characters in JJK all have in common? Indomitable will, courage in their convictions, an overwhelming sense of self. Looking at strength through this lens shines a new light on Gojo's goal of raising "strong" allies.

When he forces a third option in Shibuya, Gojo proves that strength doesn't have to come at the expense of compassion. In the later chapters of the Shinjuku Showdown arc, Yuta, Yuji, and the rest of Gojo's allies reinforce that idea ten times over, and I have every belief that Megumi will soon do the same.

To suggest Gojo only saved Megumi for his technique is unfair when he has consistently proven himself committed to protecting the futures of others, even "weak" non-sorcerers who have nothing to offer him. Once again, it's all a matter of perspective.

Gojo's way of caring is still caring, even if it doesn't look familiar to you. His only flaw was closing himself off from others and choosing to care from afar. However, just like Gojo never stopped reaching for Geto after he left, Gojo's allies never stopped reaching for him.

There's a phrase we use to describe looking at things from another perspective: putting yourself in someone else's shoes. I think it's very telling that Gojo's allies have taken that literally — Yuta by stepping into his skin, and Yuji by standing in his place in 266.

TL;DR: Gojo cares a lot, actually. If Gojo talking about his innermost feelings can't make you empathise, and the students he supposedly "doesn't care about" recognising his burdens can't make you empathise?

Well, that says far more about you than it does about him.

Come read my fics about this!

In His Shadow explores the ways Gojo keeps his distance from Megumi, who isn't equipped with the tools he needs to reach him but finds his own ways to show he cares, born from ten years of history together.

Rivers Crossed, Mountains Scaled explores Gojo and Megumi's relationship through the vehicle of SatoSugu — why Gojo took him in, whether Gojo really gave him a choice, how Gojo sees him.

Hope you enjoyed the post! I love you, Gege Akutami ♥️

[cosmicerebral]

“  is that your blood?  ”

ji-geon is no stranger to witches, nor their trickeries, strengths, weaknesses or feats. none are like eumelia & cosima, the only witches who matter in his mind's eye, & certainly as far as shadow is concerned, too. an echoed sentiment. those other insignificant beings who are not eumelia is something that makes him both suspicious of & dismissive of every other witch, warlock & coven in existence - including the aeternum coven. past, present, future witches/warlocks/covens. from a purely clinical point of view, like the rest of humanity, their goals are insignificant. they do not matter. none of what they do matters in the grand scheme of existence, either, despite humanity's annoyingly elevated sense of self-importance. something they came up with on their own, surely. they are not the only beings in any universe. not even in their own. their earth will die sooner than they theorize. once their planet falls, so will they. it is only logical. humans mean nothing to any creature that exists, unfathomable to their small imaginations, save for themselves. ethan, though, is the only one who seems to care -

ripped apart dimensions aside by his own hands nonwithstanding. how many creatures has ethan wilson-keene slaughtered in the interest of self-preservation? out of rage, out of fear of his Creators, out of grief for the inescapable death of his robert swayze keene?

( that question merits more speculation. )

humans are their own worst enemy. they fight wars that only further shortening their lifespans, they pollute their planet, what they touch, they destroy. this is factual. at present, ji-geon cannot fathom why three ethan willingly exists alongside them, why he weaved life & emotions into them upon realization that dae-sook & her peoples passed his tests, when she passed the tests he gave her by granting her emotions in the first place. why he of all beings concerns himself with something as insignificant as the aeternum coven is beyond ji-geon's scope of understanding, nor is it his place to meddle in that affair, extensive curiosities as to ethan's reasonings aside - reasonings he will not disclose, not even with his closest friends.

ji-geon knew that the minuscule, insignificant group of thirty demons were planning on hurting him, ethan, hyun-woo, & light. if ji-geon had a sense of humor, he would have laughed at the moronic, pitiful attempts at pep talks the leader gave his subordinates, all in an attempt to egg them on to complete their task. still, though... he refused to let harm come to his friends. he did he thought what was right, in the end. he has no regrets. ❝ SURVIVAL & GUARANTEEING THE SAFETY OF YOUR LOVED ONES COMES SECOND TO EVERYTHING ELSE. ❞ ethan had told him on their second meeting. ethan would have done the same thing. no, the older eldritch has done the same thing plenty of times before, in the interest to protect robby. his other friends, too. this knowledge comforts ji-geon, even as his hands are stained with blood, clothes only slightly & inconveniently unkempt by the demons' sheer desperation to kill an unkillable monster worse than them.

if robby knew ethan's genuine past, would he still look at him the same way?

...perhaps it is best to not probe too much into that line of thinking.

ji-geon glances up from the circle of corpses surrounding him. he does not know how adora found him, & honestly, he does not care. he is entirely calm despite the dead at his feet. the room stinks of blood, innards & sulfur. it invades his sense of smell.

❝ is that your blood? ❞ the question does not catch him off guard. he looks down at @chosendivine, like his hands are not covered in blood & sulfur from dead demons who never stood a chance at existing.

❝ no, it is not. i do not have the need to produce blood for my vessel. ❞ ji-geon's candace remains the same way it always does ( flat, clinical & devoid of emotion, like he is reading from the back of a prescription bottle), despite the clinical killings he had done before she showed up here. there were no emotions in the killings, no guilt, nor shame, nor fear of retaliation from other demons. all of the other demons who knew about this group are dead; a coordinated effort from ethan, charlie & hyun-woo, all of which happened seconds before ji-geon descended upon this group of demons. not a single soul was spared. any creature who knew of the plans to harm the eldritch beings cannot return to their eternal home in hell - there is nothing of the demons left. if there is nothing left, they cannot exist, so they cannot return to hell. it is embarrassingly simple logic, even a mortal child could understand it. like ethan says, you cannot move a 'living' entity to another place if their essence no longer exists.

the killings became a bit too messy for his liking, so he had ended it quicker. despite the blood staining the floor, walls & sulfur dotting his hands, he is unharmed, & there is not a spec of blood on him or his clothes. though, sulfur is a different story.

❝ unlike ethan, i have little need to pretend i am human, nor the inane desire to act as such. ❞ he continues. he does not move. ❝ as for the corpses that are displayed around me, i did what i must to ensure the survival of myself & my allies. nothing more. i may not particularly enjoy the presence of your coven members, all of whom i do not care for - but i am positive every single one of them can relate to the sentiment of survival above all else. ❞ he produces a silk handkerchief out of thin air, holding the cloth in his hands loosely. he keeps his eyes on the girl & begins wiping his hands on the white cloth, staining it yellow from the sulfur, red from the small amount of blood from the human body a particularly mouthy demon - that is the leader of the group. ❝ yourself included, i presume. ❞ after cleaning his hands, the eldritch teleports in front of the smaller girl in an instant, now moved further away from the corpses, rather than surrounded by them. instead, he is standing in front of the doorway, where adora is.

❝ you may report this to that mortal your coven refers to as leader, if this act of violence warrants alarm for the sanctity & wellbeing of your coven. i do not care what your coven does, nor what you do. nor do i fear you. i never have. & be that as it may, i will certainly not start today. ❞ the eldritch being sighs lightly.

❝ ...ethan knows my whereabouts. my task here is complete, so there is no need to remain. i do recommend following me, lest you wind up becoming another burnt corpse, too. need i remind you that practical invulnerability is not quite the same thing as whole invulnerability. arrogance is one of the flaws i know mortals have. only out of concern for ciro, i recommend you do not fall victim to your hubris, mortal. but i do not care what you do. you may stay here & test the limits of your invulnerability against my abilities, or die. it is your choice, human. one i recommend you make posthaste. ❞ as soon as the eldritch says that final word, the corpses burst into white flames, flesh blackening instantly, bones snapping violently, then collapsing in on themselves because of the sheer heat. the bodies turn to ash within the blink of an eye. the room immediately catches on fire, starting at the curtains at the small, bloodstained window, which is to the left of the pair. it looks out towards the other abandoned homes in the equally abandoned, ruined neighborhood. the other homes burn down quickly, too, but theirs is immediate. simply because adora is not in them. one second the homes are there, the next, there's nothing left.

ji-geon pushes past adora & walks of the room without another word. he exits the home in a calm manner, his hands in the pockets of his ( well, hyun-woo's ) black leather jacket. he waits until he is a safe distance away from the home, then another room bursts into blue flames with a mere thought. this one is down the hall from where the demon murders took place. the blue-colored flames are vicious, terrifying, & two times more unfathomably hot than blue flames should be. if adora was completely human, she would have burned to death. ji-geon watches the home burn impassively, not blinking or breathing, even as the light from the fire reflects in his eyes. the blue flames do not reach the room adora is in - ji-geon is withholding that from happening until she is out of the house entirely. he will resume once she is out. he knows that ciro would not be happy if adora winds up injured in some way.

[escape-rock-bottom]

Journal Entry #2- The Dominating Power of Learned Helplessness

I heard this term and it hit me like a freight train: Not only was this exactly what was holding me back, but there's a term for it, meaning I am not the inly one who experienced it.

What is learned helplessness exactly? Well, it's a chronic negative cognitive function brought on by a history of pain, suffering, and helplessness. It's the feeling that no matter how hard you try, you won't succeed. It's the feeling that you will always be a depressed mess of a human being. It's the feeling that nothing can save you.

It's a miserable way to live life.

Realistically, there is a psychological reason behind this way of thinking. There were a few (very unethical, but still relevant) studies on animals in which researchers would take an animal into a room with several panels that would shock the animal if a button was pressed by the researchers. The animal was let into the room and left be to explore for a shirt period of time before one of the plates was electrified. The animal would touch it and flip out, then learn to avoid that specific plate. The researchers would let the animal out, and much later put it back in the same cage. Apparently, the animal remembered "that plate frikken HURTS" and avoids it as it explored. The researchers would electrify a different plate, and the animal began to associate pain with that one.

What does that have to do with learned helplessness? Evidently, if all the plates were electrified and the animal had nowhere to go, it would freak out until it understands it is trapped in a pain chamber and gives up. Even after the plates are neutral, the animal will do absolutely nothing in the room until it is physically removed. Even if the animal is removed and reintroduced to the room a while later in which the plates are neutral, it will slothfully crawl in and sit in place until removed.

Now, take this concept and apply it to a human being. Imagine what someone would do if they have had six jobs in one year and were fired from each. Or, when someone is consistently at the mercy of their own parents, who consistently tell their child what they can and can't do. How about the person who has been betrayed in too many relationships to count? This idea can be applied to nearly anything and understandably, it's devastating and limiting.

You can imagine that even when the person is removed from the constant pain, they will resolve to do nothing and remain complacent to their feeling of helplessness. Even if you gave the person who says they can never be loved an ideal, loving partner, they will convince themselves that this is temporary and will result in pain no matter how much evidence disproves the claim.

In short, someone who learned helplessness constantly self sabotages in order to avoid perceived harm or danger.

The fact that I learned this concept after I broke free kind of sucks. If I learned that my own mind was traumatized and rewired to self sabotage and think negatively instead of being constantly pitied, I may have broken free sooner. Surprisingly, only one of my 628 therapists (an exaggeration, but I did admittedly have a lot over the years) mentioned this, and she was the one who set me in motion last year. Understanding that I won't be saved from myself by anyone else but I have all the tools to do so helped give me some unexplainable power.

So, how do you get your own shiny new breakthrough with your self sabotaging ways? I'm no therapist, but this is exactly what I did and I haven't fallen back to the old patterns:

Step 1: Understand the concept of learned helplessness. Analyze it outside of yourself for best results.

Step 2: Answer this: What do you feel is stopping you (outside force) and why? List everything that is applicable. Examples: "I don't have the motivation.", "I can't hold a job.", "Making friends is too hard."

Step 3: Explore what caused this feeling. Was it trauma, a previously inescapable situation, a result of mental illness?

Step 4: Think about what you would do without the limiting thoughts. Understand that your brain wired itself to act in a helpless way as a result of conditioning. It's not your fault it happened, but how you manage your steps moving forward is all in your hands.

Step 5: Reframe. Write out all the things you want in life (material, financial, emotional, social, anything) Now, write out how you can and will achieve these things. Next, work on active reframing negative thoughts. For example, if you feel you can't learn to drive due to anxiety, instantly stop that thought and combat it with an affirmation that you are capable. If you find this rewiring is far too difficult for you to handle alone, seek a professional and discuss with them this source of your pain. Unpacking trauma is the best way to resolve it.

Step 6: Be consistent long-term. As mentioned before, its hard to unlearn a habitual pattern of personality. Repeat step 5 the instant any nasty little negative self doubting thoughts surface.

Lastly, remember that you have the answer to your problem. You just need to dig deep into your inner workings and pick them apart, then reroute the wires. You may have learned to feel helpless but with any habit you can break it.

[soleilnomoon]

can i have sorbet and licorice with poppy seeds with side menu #1 zoro?

hiii, thanks for being patient 😊💙 i love writing angsty zoro <3

1.1k words, gn reader (no pronouns), sfw, slightly suggestive, 18+ mdni, a lil bit of angst, hurt/comfort; zoro means well, he does, but he's also bad at dealing w. irrational people.

a light dusting of snow settles on the expansive deck of the sunny, an accompanying gust of wind — bitter, sharp, inescapable — making it nearly impossible to stand outside for longer than ten minutes. chopper is in his element, smiling as he collects snowflakes on his extended tongue; luffy follows suit, encourages usopp and brook to play along with them — with brook lamenting that not having a tongue makes it difficult to feel the same sensation that they do — before complaining about the cold weather. 

you watch from the second floor, breath coasting against the glass of the window in the library, laughing softly. the others seek refuge inside the warmth of the various rooms around the ship, with the exception of one, who sees the cold as an opportunity to train intensively. 

zoro makes his way onto the upper deck, sequestering a small area for himself so he can work out. it pains you to look at him — he’s left his shirt on a nearby lawn chair and, for some reason, is also barefoot. you’ve tried countless times to understand his line of thinking, have even offered him various solutions that don’t require him to be half-naked all the time — not because you dislike seeing him like that, but because it’s hard to focus on the things he says — but it’s all the same. he’s stubborn, refuses assistance, and thinks your cause for concern is entirely misplaced.

with a sigh — one full of melancholy and anxiety — you tread outside, tugging a scarf around your neck closely as you try to stay as warm as possible. growing up on a warm island means you’re not equipped to deal with weather like this; no matter how many winter islands you pass, you’ll never get used to the cold. zoro’s in the middle of lifting weights, barely registering the low temperature as his body’s natural warmth keeps him steady; you sometimes wished you could be like him — unattached, steadfast, vicious — and sometimes you feared the intensity that surrounded him. 

you’ve never been the type to shy away from voicing your opinions, but for some reason, after watching the way the muscles on his back flex, those words fizzle and cease to exist. 

not that anyone asked his opinion, but it is really fucking cold outside.

still, no amount of extreme weather could make him oblivious to your presence. he’s quite apt at differentiating the sounds of his crew mates footsteps. even in the snow, your steps are light and hesitant — as if you don’t know if you should stay or go. he doesn’t acknowledge your presence for a moment, but since you keep moving around, he can’t focus on his work out.

“what is it?” 

he inhales deeply through his nostrils, places the large dumbbells on the floor and stretches his arms a bit. his voice scratches against your skin, his irritation palpable as your words continue to evade you. when you still don’t say anything, he finally turns to face you, lone eye searching your face for something — you don’t know what. it makes you nervous, the way his eye sweeps over you several times before he settles on your face. 

“i’m waiting,” he says a little impatiently, the air nipping at his skin, flushing his cheeks and nose. 

you know if you don’t answer him then it’ll be that much worse, but you can’t say anything — if you do, you know you’ll just mess things up further. but with the way he’s looking at you, you know that if you don’t say anything soon, you’ll never get that opportunity again. “i…” your throat dries as you try to imagine the apology sliding off of your tongue and infiltrating the air between you; in a perfect world, you’d both laugh your foolishness off, but this world is far from perfect, and zoro isn’t inclined to find things like that funny.

his brow quirks upward, but when you don’t make any move to continue, he starts to walk past you. his silence slaps you repeatedly, making you numb to the cold, and when the sounds of his heavy footsteps start to get further and further away, you panic. “wait,” you call out, pivoting around so you can look at him properly. “don’t leave.” it’s pathetic, really, the way the tears well up in your eyes, the way you try to blink them away — fruitless endeavors as they spill down your cheeks regardless. 

hesitation stills his movements, which allows you to catch up with the stubborn swordsman without issue. you bite down on your lip so hard you’re sure you’ll draw blood, legs carrying you towards him quickly. he never turns around, but it doesn’t matter; you wrap your arms around him, warmth radiating off of his body the moment you make contact. you press your cheek against his back, closing your eyes and willing your mind to settle for five seconds so you can tell him what  you need to say.

“i’m sorry,” you say quietly, voice coming out in shallow puffs, his own breathing a little uneven at your proximity. “i should’ve listened to you.”

the excuse is one you say often, which is partially why he’s agitated. while he knows you’re not totally incapable of defending yourself in battle, he’s always, always told you to not wander off on your own, especially with enemies who are particularly tricky to deal with. you’re prone to falling and somehow attract danger without trying. this time, you nearly got yourself killed — which would’ve also resulted in a few of your other crew mates being critically injured too.

you’re well aware of your mistake; you miscalculated, tried to overcompensate for your shortcomings, and put your crew mates at risk. he has every reason to be upset, you know that, but it still doesn’t hurt any less. it’s not that he means to intentionally not talk to you, but there’s no other way he can deal with it, particularly because you’re hard-headed and sometimes don’t see reason. you do now, though. that was a little too close for comfort, and the guilt has settled on your chest heavily, making it difficult to breathe most days.

the argument had escalated between you, resulting in you saying things you didn’t mean, and him walking away without resolving the issue with you. he knows he should pry you off of him, should shake you and hope that sense finds you quickly; but he doesn’t. instead he sighs and simply says, “okay.” it comes out quietly, but you hear it. and when you do eventually let him go, he pulls you towards him so that he can properly hug you. it’s not that he wants to stay upset with you, but the fear of losing you — of losing anyone that’s close to him, really — grows stronger with time. he knows you didn’t intend for anything bad to happen, but he hopes that maybe now you’ll think a little carefully before you make rash decisions; and while you’re not 100% certain you won’t be hit with another impulsive whim of yours, you do know that you’ll think a little more before doing something like that again.

[steelycunt]

love the sirius talk he really is just so all over the place in fact I think one of the reasons I like r/s as much as I do is because of the fact that genuinely no body else knows sirius as well as remus does no one else knows exactly how kind and cruel he can be and through it all remus is still obsessed with him. even when he doesn’t know if he’s a good person or even when he thinks he’s a terrible one and same honestly he’s got me wrapped around his finger even if I wish he didn’t. and I’m always thinking about that scene in POA when he’s talking to harry about the ministry administering the dementors kiss and he doesn’t want sirius to get the kiss even though he doesn’t know he’s innocent yet, or just how emotional and jumpy he was whenever sirius was brought up at all.. and then how completely cold he was to peter when he learnt the truth. even though he loved him once like family and spent 12 years mourning him he’s completely unattached and cold to peter but he’s spent 12 years hating sirius and still couldn’t detach himself from him. he had 12 years to move on and he just! couldn’t! he’s obsessed!! i love the way that they didn’t have the kind of relationship that could withstand anything cause they’re barely able to keep themselves together let alone a relationship and they were just always in the worst circumstances but no matter what they always came back to each other. it’s like the complete opposite of destined lovers or whatever it’s called it’s like they weren’t supposed to be together but there was nothing the universe could throw at them that would make remus not be completely consumed by sirius no matter how much he might hate him or how long they were apart he could never move on. it reads like such a Tragedy, reminds me of that post on here that’s like the love was there even if it couldn’t save the day or didn’t make a difference in the grand scheme it was there and that’s what’s important. he was nothing short of devoted to sirius truly the Best sirius is the one through remus’ eyes cause he could look at this insufferable posh asshole and know the hurt he could evoke better then anyone and be in a constant loosing fight against fucking fate itself and still go ‘yeah he’s worth it’

hii yes especially love ur point about remus' varying responses to peter and sirius when he thinks they're each the traitor!! insane!! and such a testament to how inescapable his feelings for sirius are like. that's it that's the whole thing he could never manage to rid himself of it...twelve whole years and he couldn't cut it out of himself they're just SO. yeah. they don't by any means fix each other but they need each other anyway because honestly the alternative is just as bad. they are just as useless without each other. remus went without him for twelve years and that still did no good. i don't like the term soulmates nor do i necessarily believe in higher powers/the kind of predestination that might be implied by the term fated, but i don't know what else to call them they're just stuck with each other. and there comes a point where they are sooo tangled up in each other's lives--that mary oliver quote about not knowing where to drop the knife of separation--that everything will inevitably come back to each other. time and the course of their lives ensures that they remain the only two people who could possibly understand each other, and in that way they're sort of fashioned into soulmates. not in the sense that they were predestined but that they had little control over how absolutely their relationship consumed them both, past the point of choosing to love each other when they were fucking. sixteen or something.

[darkkitty1208]

hi! you mentioned you liked alpha!tony and omega!stephen, do you happen to have any recommendations? 🫶👀 thank you in advance <3

Hey, Nonny!

Oh dear, I gotchu. I'm putting everything under the cut in case any of you want to preserve your innocence (and me, to preserve my dignity. Ugh)

Minors DNI

Unfortunately there aren't much Omega!Stephen/Alpha!Tony fics out there, and a lack of Bottom!Stephen/Top!Tony fics in general. But I'll try.

I'm not sure if you're looking for plotty or smutty fics, so I'll just split them up.

Plotty A/B/O Multichaps

Alpha Syndrome by atypicalsnowman – A beautiful fic featuring Alpha!Tony and Beta!Stephen Strange. Tony Stark has to bond with an omega. He has to or face a slow and painful death. No matter how much he loves his beta, Stephen Strange. Then magic steps in. (Some good smut, a healthy amount of angst and whump, too.)

Can't Help Falling In Love With You by Chocopiggy – Animal Shifters and A/B/O Canon Divergent: Tony falls in love with Stephen on Titan. Specifically, the moment when the wizard stops scrying with that time stone of his, and Tony's met with the most loving look from Stephen (or anyone) he had ever seen. Back on Earth, Stephen has his memories of the alternate futures blocked by Wong, in order to protect the omega's sanity. And it's up to Tony to get Stephen to fall in love with him once more, just to see the same expression on Stephen's face once again. (In progress, no actual smut (yet), and a good amount of fluff, romance, slowburn, angst/whump and hurt/comfort)

Children of the Old Moon by old_blue – After an encounter with a supernatural killer goes wrong, Stephen is pulled into another world. There, he meets a very familiar face... Now he just needs to catch the murderer, save the multiverse, and find a way back home. (It's not Ironstrange actually, it's Sam Wilson/Stephen Strange (dunno their ship name, rarepair), but it's one of my favourite Omegaverse pieces. We all know how messed up the abo verse is, but I've never actually seen it being addressed in a fic itself. Also has super good plot twists and mysteries, and a LOT of good smut)

Royally Fucked by Insert_Witty_Username — King Stephen Strange’s kingdom had been at war as long as he can remember, locked in a battle between the fey, Stephen’s people, and the humans. The war almost ended with the union of Stephen’s parents, one fey and an omega human, that is, before they were killed in an attack. Stephen, now blooming into his early twenties, and still suspiciously unpresented, has taken it upon himself to meet the human’s king and put an end to the war ravaging his land, no matter what it takes… however it ends up taking a whole lot more than he expected. When his meeting with the alpha prince Anthony spirals south, triggering Stephen’s first-ever heat and revealing him as an omega, King Howard of the Stark Kingdom sees it as a perfect opportunity to create a union between the humans and the fey through marriage. Anthony and Stephen struggle to get along, both unable to see past the inescapable bonds of their inevitable wedding. Stuck in a strange new world, Stephen is lost without a support network all while his entire identity and sense of self is turned upside down. In the meantime, something far larger and far more dangerous than a petty squabble over the union of a prince and a king brews in the background… (In progress, Stephen is a fae here so magic does exist. He gets all dolled up with fae clothing and the descriptions there are superb, there's even a fanart by slasher_art444 picturing it.)

Smutty A/B/O Oneshots/Fics

Family by Chocopiggy – Scared of the rain, Stephen curls in his nest and waits for Tony to come home. The need for his mate to comfort him is stronger than ever, thanks to his approaching heat. (Hurt/comfort with a dash of smut)

With You Series by Descaladumidera – A series with three installments, each with a good smut scene and some plot.

Falling by IronStrangeLover (sherlockian4ever) – Stephen has been hiding the fact that he is an omega with magic. When he meets alpha Tony, he falls for him hard. Tony's scent triggers Stephen's heat and they end up sharing it. Afterwards, they date. The inevitable happens and they bond. (Filth. Absolute wonderful filth. And yeah, also some fluff and romance because they love each other and it's ironstrange)

101 Ironstrange Kinks by RisingQueen2 (FallenQueen2) – Not all chapters are A/B/O, but they are in Chapter 1, Chapter 10, Chapter 32, Chapter 38, Chapter 55, Chapter 63 (personally I did not read this specific chapter, it's uh.. pregnancy kink. But feel free to read it, no one's judging).

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

look i didn’t want to be a sour kid

god, it's brutal out here: and percy jackson knows what that means. scars on his body like pulled threads. calluses on his palms from pens that turn into swords, coins that turn into weapons, hands that curl into fists. walking home after an annoying day at school and having to fight the troll on the bridge. you must give me something in order to pass my territory. he gives it death. it gives him another shirt to wash blood stains out of. gods with too much arrogance giving him quests with too little return policy. body that doesn't want to cooperate after he blows up a mountain. body that wants to move too fast when he needs to follow a plan. heart that gets broken and rebuilt with different materials every day. god it’s brutal out here: and percy jackson knows it’s brutal in here too.

traitor: and percy jackson has never felt a word more like a branding in his entire life. he thinks back to the summer he turned thirteen and he sees scorpion tails flashing behind his eyelids. and he sees blonde hair and sometimes he can't differentiate between her and him and them and him. and he sees a scar and he wonders if the cut was deep enough to lose goodness. and he thinks maybe he wouldn’t have minded so much if someone had just told him what was going on. and that makes him a traitor too. and he sees it now, how easily he would succumb to the scorpion tail. how he would welcome the bliss of losing his goodness. who’s to say it’s true goodness anyway? and he remembers the red curls and the summer of beach walks and glass houses and the look of betrayal when plastic hairbrush meets yankees cap. is he a traitor then? to his own feelings? surely not. must be. neither of them liked it. he liked them. traitor, but to who? and remembers the day he left a girl on an island and promised to help her and couldn’t in the end. he remembers eyes of fire at his incompetence. and he is a betrayer. but only to others. traitor: and percy jackson thinks he’s never really betrayed anyone but himself.

got my driver’s license: and percy jackson is growing up so fast his limbs can't keep up. one leg is slightly longer than the other and it makes him clumsy. his left hand is bigger than his right and he uses it to punch. he flies a pegasus for the first time and he understands why mortals are always so angry. they will never know this unbridled freedom. and he gets kissed by a girl and he thinks his skin understands the heat of the sun. and his hair becomes curls instead of waves and he has to clip it> push it> tie it back because it keeps getting in his eyes. and his mom asks him if he wants “blue cake this year?” and he has to tell her he’ll never be too old for it because she’s scared he’s going to grow out of her love. he is not. and paul teaches him how to read a book without feeling like his eyes are drowning and he can’t believe he’s learning to read in high school. and he is moving through the days like water, finding a way around everything. got my driver’s license: and percy jackson knows it’s only a matter of time before he gets a death sentence too.

it’s always one step forward and three steps back: and percy jackson is waking up with no sense of who he is. he is carrying a goddess on his back and he doesn’t even know who his mother is. he is stepping across a river and erasing the curse of indestructible. he is again a demigod with too much vulnerability and not enough care. and he is being flung to an island where time doesn’t move and he doesn’t want to either. and he is healing like he never has before. and he is leaving and not even the girl who loves him can keep him there because he loves another girl and she doesn’t know she loves him back. and he is taking the sky from a friend and he is giving the sky to a goddess and he is leaving a hunter to see the stars and he is watching a new hunter evade the fate they are cursed with. and he was relieved from this burden for one brief second in time. burden of what? burden of sky? burden of prophecy? burden of death? and they are all handed back to him, presented with no other option. they are not the weights in the balancing scale. they are the scale and he is the weights. one step forward and three steps back: and percy jackson wonders if he can go far back enough to erase his own existence. 

i know you get déjà vu: and percy jackson is hurtled to summers spent in a camp, next to a girl, next to a satyr, next to a friend. and he is living his life in montauk with his mom and he is watching red hair fly in the wind, paint smudges on their  skin. and he is remembering how everything is different every year but he can still see the fire wall from his cabin and the smell of wild strawberries is the only thing his scent receptors know how to identify. and he knows solstice could bring death or happiness and he’s starting to think one doesn’t exist and one exists too much. and he sees people who love him and show it in ways he knows. blue candy has never been a complicated feeling. and doesn’t see people who love him in ways he doesn’t know. seaweed brain, let me come with you into the labyrinth, become praetor with me. and he thinks his childhood disappeared the day his mother was kidnapped and is it possible to have déjà vu if you’ve never lived enough to experience something once. and he thinks maybe the god of the sun gets déjà vu every time he pulls the star across the sky because it’s all about warmth isn’t it? your body’s way of saying we’ve been here before and we survived. i know you get déjà vu: and percy jackson is sure he has lived a thousand lives in this one alone.

good for you: and percy jackson is craving a life that doesn’t involve this madness. he is jealous of the kid in his science class that accidentally knocks over the bunsen burner and only gets a disapproving look from the teacher. his nose bleed starts a war. he is jealous of the neireids that simply become the water and wait for the world to stop burning itself to the ground. you look happy and healthy and he looks like he’s missing five years of his life and no way of moving forward. he is tired and he wants to sleep but the last time he did that it was six months later and he couldn’t remember anything. and he wants to sink to the bottom of the ocean but he is still exhaling mud because he drowned in sludge once. and he is too young to be this exhausted but. good for you: and percy jackson wants to become the villain.

all i ever wanted was to be enough for you: and percy jackson is struggling with the expectations people who don't know him want him to have. he is twelve and the teacher hands back a test face down and he knows he’s going to shove it into the pit of his bag before he can be scathed by a red pen. he is thirteen and his mother has finally given herself the hero ending she deserves but he is still this little kid who doesn’t know how to handle the world and if she doesn’t need him to protect her what is his purpose? he is a teenager watching people have silent conversations about his fate and getting no replies when he asks too. as if it is ridiculous to involve himself in these discussions. he can't be the one, it’s not possible. and wait she is here, from her tree grave. no, she is gone, to her hunter fate. wait they are here from their timeless casino. no she is gone and he is young. far too young. and he can’t do this and he can’t do that and he isn’t there yet, not powerful, too reckless, too loyal. the monsters realise his potential and use it to hurt him. the people don't realise his potential and wish he would use it. all i ever wanted was to be enough for you: and percy jackson is too far gone to be of use.

i hope you're happy, but don't be happier: and percy jackson cannot fall in love unless it’s with her. and he has seen the beauty of people and he wants to keep them all close and he doesn’t know how to do it because she keeps him in her grasp. deathly afraid of spiders she says but she has built a web so big he can't move without getting caught. and he goes to a scorned girl on a secluded beach and he likes the way her eyes sparkle in the sun, how she plants the same way his mother does and he leaves her there because she doesn’t have a storm in her gaze. and he loses his memory and remembers only her and he knows it’s inescapable. and maybe he kind of loves it. nobody has ever really given him a choice anyway. at least this one he can love. i hope you're happy, but don't be happier: and percy jackson has never known happier anyway.

jealousy, jealousy: and percy jackson is surrounded by the best. he is in a camp dedicated to people like him and he is still at the bottom. and he is on a quest that makes him the main perpetrator but he is still being puppeted along. and he cant help but wonder if he will turn out like the boy with the scarred face. and he cant help but wonder if he’ll turn out like the girl who grabbed a figurine. and he can't help but wonder if he’ll become a monster or a hero and what’s the difference really. everyone is fighting for a cause. it’s just the matter of whose side you're on. and he wants to know what will happen if he just lets go. he wants to be like the people who follow their cause. instead he is doing biddings. he is following orders. he is making things right. jealousy, jealousy: and percy jackson wants to know if he can be jealous of his own dreams.

i hope i was your favorite crime: and percy jackson is a little kid with a long record. he is on the news plastered as a criminal endangering others, blowing up a bus. it is not the last destruction he causes. he learns to get clever about it. and he is on the news sobbing about his generous stepdad. generous about the bruises he administers, and the words he spits. generous about his appliances. and he is on the news for jumping off a bridge too high to survive. and he doesn’t really know if he will survive but when is he ever really sure he’s going to survive anyway? at least this was a choice. and he is always a criminal unable to plead his innocence. i hope i was your favorite crime: and percy jackson wonders if anyone cares about the injustices against him. 

you're okay: and percy jackson is staring at his reflection in the rippling water and he knows it’s time to forgive himself. he was just a child. with far too much responsibility and far too much guilt. he had seen death before he’d had his first kiss. he had felt pain before he felt comfort. he had never known safety. and now he is old enough to go wherever he wants and do whatever he wants and he has to forgive himself first. because he was just a kid with a hundred targets on his back and only a fierce need to survive protecting him. you’re okay: and percy jackson knows he will be. 

[artbyblastweave]

BLASTWEAVE what does steven universe have in common with watchmen?

Both Steven Universe and Watchmen are groundbreaking entries in their respective genres that demonstrate a deep understanding of the appeal of the genre they’re working in, and engage with their ideas on a previously unheard-of level for the medium. That breaks ground and clears the way for what other works in the genre can get away with. 

Steven Universe showed that, well, first of all that you can make a cartoon that’s fundamentally ideologically queer beyond a few side characters, but also that you can have an emotionally intelligent and mature children's cartoon where the character nuance and depth and development are all taken very seriously. Watchmen showed that you could write serious and interesting narratives about superheroes if you were willing to roll with the crazy. (Neither of them was the first to do the things I’m ascribing to them, but I do think that they’re what made it stick for their respective fields.)

In doing so, though, both works create/created a catch 22 for all future works in their genre. Part of what made both of them so good is that they were willing to critically unpack and air out the ugly implications of their format that usually get chalked up to suspension of disbelief, and now that that’s out in the open it becomes very difficult not to think about how any other given work is or isn’t addressing those issues- even if they aren’t equipped to address those issues in the scope of the story they’re trying to tell. Watchmen asked questions about who sanctions superheroes, what qualifies you to do that work, where the line is between heroism and fascism or if there even is one, whether the agency to act means you have a right or a duty to act, whether anyone who seriously bought into the superhero thing could possibly be doing it for good reasons, and, if they somehow were, how long you can care with the intensity necessary to be an effective hero without suffering burnout (not long.) I literally can’t think of a single superhero thing worth reading that isn’t in some way in conversation with Watchmen - you now kind of have to answer those questions, explicitly or implicitly, even if your books thesis is “Alan Moore sucks eggs and being a superhero is very sustainable and fantastic.” If you just leave the question of whether your superheroes are justified completely unaddressed, there’s an uncomfortable discordance there, because we’ve seen the extreme end of that sliding scale in the form of the Comedian and if the narrative doesn’t engage with what makes the protagonist not Edward Blake, it can feel worrisome. If they try and then botch it it can feel alarming.

Steven Universe has a similar thing going on, at least for me. It’s the only unironic, non-parodic children’s series that’s really, seriously unpacked how fucked up and traumatic it would be to grow up as the archetypical All-loving Spirited Saturday Morning Cartoon Protagonist, how warped and dysfunctional a household that enabled that lifestyle could be at its worst, and what the future looks like when your whole childhood was centered on a now-ended conflict. ( a lot of cartoons flirt with that last one but don’t commit.) I’ve seen jokes and intended-as-cracky fan theories about this for years, surrounding lots of other cartoons (Ben 10, Pokemon, Powerpuff Girls) but almost never with the assumption that the creators are on the same page as them. I’ve seen stories that are post-modern reimaginings using the same general archetypes or whatever (Venture Brothers) but that’s not this! SU told an entertaining story earnestly, and then engaged with the emotional fallout of the story it told, with an unheard-of breadth and depth. A whole season of unpacking! No other show has ever been allowed to sink that much effort into closure. That’s usually what Fanfic is for.

I think it’s great, and that shows like Infinity Train and The Owl House are able to go as hard as they do largely because of Steven Universe’s precedent- but no matter how good a cartoon is, I can’t watch them without having this voice in the back of my head going “Oh, these children are going to grow up to be broken wrecks, bar an extensive and harsh healing process that kinda hurts to watch, huh.”

The issue is that not every cartoon can be Steven Universe, where the project was to thoughtfully and sensitively unpack this stuff. It’s a fair bet that we’ll probably never see a show with that exact project again (not least because of the loss of novelty value.) You’ve got your own stories you wanna tell that’ll run their own course, mostly aimed at children, there objectively isn’t narrative or financial room for most stories to unpack these assumptions if that wasn’t the goal going in. For example, Gravity Falls had pretty tight storytelling and a narrative that absolutely had room for a post-script "where-do-we-go-from-here” plot- it sped-run the “oh no, childhood’s ending” thing- and it’s pretty telling that the aftermath, healing process, interpersonal relationships and so forth are one of the things that that fandom heavily fixates on. The narrative had such a clean ending that it made people go looking for the mess. That’s not bad! It’s how most storytelling works! But now I look at any cartoon with kid heroes that’s meant to be taken even marginally seriously and go, Oh. Win the battle, lose the war. Then I feel sad. The contrast, of course, is that most superhero works actually can be, and in fact benefit from trying to be like Watchmen, because all the questions Watchmen raises about the ethics of power are also just.... like.... the most interesting storytelling hooks if you want to write a cape thing with real themes. They’re the kind of stories we’d have gotten years prior naturally if not for the CCA boondoggle. Admittedly it kinda creates a different problem where most “good” cape media is inescapably self-referential and draws on picking apart the conventions of a 60-70-year old canon that hasn’t been in wide circulation in years. But! I also think there’s a stronger obligation there to keep superhero fans in check- if your superhero thing isn’t making the reader question the ethics of violence and individual heroism in the face of systemic injustice, you wind up with people who unironically think Frank Castle is a role model to be emulated. We all know that guy. Children’s media doesn’t really produce that guy the same way, although it can draw them in from other corners. Superhero media often needs to be self-critical in a way children’s cartoons don’t always have to be.

[helloalycia]

The Wrong Lifetime — Fourteen // Wanda Maximoff

chapter thirteen | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | epilogue

author’s note: the last chapter is finally here! i hope you like it 😊

There were many times when I'd get distracted by thoughts of Wanda.

I could be going for a walk and remember that time she tripped over the flat pavement, almost bringing me down with her. I could be shopping for stationary and remember that time she almost bought the whole shop in one visit. I could be sitting by the water fountain and remember that time she tried to make a wish, only to drop her whole purse in it.

This time, I'd just woken up to the sun streaming through my curtains. I rolled over to an empty bed, hand brushing against the cold sheets as they expected more. For some reason, my subconscious decided to taunt me with a memory taking place just after we'd first made love in her room...

"I love you so much," Wanda told me with an enchanting smile.

I turned to face her, one arm comfortable under the pillow as the other rested outside the duvet, covering my bare chest. She raised her hand, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear before resting her hand there. I smiled at the contact and felt a warmth spreading all over me at the affectionate gaze she sent my way.

"I know, love, you only said it several times," I teased lightly, making her chuckle. "I love you, too, though, in case you didn't know."

She sighed contently, eyes closing. I admired how beautiful she looked with her hair sprawled over her bare shoulders, smile on her lips and freckles dusting her skin. Her touch still ghosted my body, taste still embedded between my lips, scent still wavering in my nose. She was permanent and I was certain she'd never leave.

"We should probably get up in case somebody comes to check on us," she said, interrupting my moment of admiration.

Her eyes flickered open slowly, blue with golden flecks glistening right back at me. Suddenly, anything that happened after this didn't matter to me. For once, I appreciated where we were, what we had and nothing more or less. No wedding, no future... just now.

"We should," I agreed regretfully, though her leg moved closer to mine and made me wish we could stay here longer. "I wish we didn't have to."

She smiled halfheartedly, hand moving down my cheek, caressing the skin, before they rested at my chin. She outlined my lips with her thumb before leaning forward and stealing a kiss.

"Can't we have a few more minutes?" she asked, lips brushing mine as she spoke.

She was making it very hard to deny her and judging from the playful smirk on her lips, she knew that.

"I guess we can," I agreed quietly, making her smile with satisfaction.

She rolled on top of me, capturing my lips in a kiss as her bare chest pressed to mine and my hand found her waist for support. As usual, the effect she had on me was indescribable and I couldn't imagine us ever leaving the bed. I knew for sure that I'd never been happier than I was in that moment.

It was such a perfect moment, but it haunted me. Nothing felt right without her. She'd overwhelmed all of my senses and remained, even when I didn't have her by me in person. The wedding was literally in a few weeks, but I hadn't managed to get over her.

How could I be her maid of honour when I could barely speak to her? Not without wanting to curl in a ball and cry afterwards. Every thing I did seemed to be filled with memories of her. She was inescapable.

A groan left my lips as I dragged my hand down my face with frustration. I couldn't let her get to me yet again. I had an interview with the local paper today. The last thing I needed was Wanda as a distraction.

So, with that lovely thought lingering in my mind, I dragged myself out of bed to get ready for the day ahead.

—

Press interviews weren't something I was used to.

Whenever Y/B/N had them with journalists for his books, I wasn't present. The only thing I heard was when he came back and told me how it went, then I proceeded to read about it in the paper the next day.

I was sat in Steve's office at Maximoff Publishing with Steve sat by my side, sending me a supportive smile. A journalist from the local paper sat before us, notebook and pen in hand as he watched on with curious eyes.

"So, Y/N," he began. "I'll start with the obvious, if you don't mind."

I glanced at Steve who nodded encouragingly. Clearing my throat, I looked to the journalist. "Sure thing."

He smiled and glanced at his notebook before asking, "How does it feel to be published? You're Pietro Maximoff's first female author."

"An author who happens to be female," I corrected, hoping I didn't come off as rude. "And that isn't something that should be new, in my opinion. It should be normalised."

He nodded, noting it down in his notebook. "Controversy... I like it."

Swallowing hard, I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

"I think the readers would like to know how you managed to score a publisher," he began his next question. "How exactly did you get noticed amongst the many authors that look to be published?"

Okay, not so difficult, I could answer that.

"Well, it was actually my–" I paused, Wanda's face flashing to mind. Okay, maybe a little difficult.

"Your...?" the journalist prompted.

I blinked, attempting to find my words.

"Wanda," Steve answered, starting me off.

I looked to him with grateful eyes before looking back to the journalist. "Right. Yes. Wanda."

"Your brother's fiancé, right?" the journalist asked for clarification.

"Yes," I answered, with an accidental clipped tone. "She... she was the one who gave my work to her brother. Asked him to look at it. And the rest is history."

The journalist was making notes as I spoke, nodding and humming in response, before looking to me with raised brows.

"So, the wedding," he said, making me wince subtly. "Are you excited?"

Forcing a smile, I said, "Ecstatic."

"How does it feel to have your two families uniting?" he asked, and I chewed on my lips, unsure how to respond.

"I– er–"

"Are you afraid that Y/B/N marrying Wanda may put him in Pietro's good graces?" he interrupted eagerly, leaning forward in his seat.

I opened my mouth to answer, but I didn't know what to say that wouldn't land me in hot water or make me look like a jealous sibling. Glancing to Steve questioningly, he thankfully noticed my speechlessness and gave the journalist a warning stare.

"Can you stay on topic, please?" he asked the keen journalist. "Y/N is here to talk about her book and nothing more."

"Okay, okay," the journalist gave in, making me exhale slowly. "What's next in store for your readers, Y/N? A sequel, perhaps?"

"I'm not sure," I answered truthfully. "I'm still in awe at the reception from the first one."

He nodded, note taking as he listened. "How many books do you think you'll get out of your career before getting married like your brother?"

I raised my eyebrows with disbelief. But I didn't get to answer as he was already moving onto his next question.

"Are you not worried about getting married? You know, men don't like smart women."

Narrowing my eyes at him, I clenched my fists by my side and was very close to strangling him before we were interrupted. A servant whom I recognised from home knocked on the door and earned everyone's attention.

"Oh, tell him to go away," the journalist said dismissively, waving his hand.

Steve looked to me and I plastered a bitter smile on my lips as I glanced at the journalist.

"I'd let him in if I were you," I told Steve, and he seemed to understand that I was about to pummel the journalist if I wasn't distracted, because he nodded and motioned for the servant to enter.

The journalist sighed rudely and I clenched my jaw before looking to the servant with a quirked brow. He looked out of breath, panting for air and face flushed red.

"Did you run here?" I realised, cocking my head to the side with confusion.

He nodded, straightening up and attempting to catch his breath. "Yes, Miss Y/L/N. Very sorry to interrupt, but your mother insisted I hurry."

My eyes widened. "Oh, God, what happened? Is she okay?"

"Kind of," he answered, before clarifying, "The wedding between your brother and Miss Maximoff has been cancelled."

"What?!" everyone in the room asked at the same time.

What did he mean the wedding had been cancelled?! Wanda and Y/B/N weren't going to get married?

"I don't know the details," the servant got out quickly. "I just know that your mother sent me to fetch you as soon as possible. She's distraught and requires you home immediately."

I nodded instantly, already making a move to stand up, then I remembered where I was.

"You mustn't publish anything you just heard," I told the journalist with a stern finger, but he seemed over the moon at the news.

"Go, Y/N, your mother needs you," Steve said, resting a hand on my shoulder as he, too, stood up. He side-eyed the journalist as he added, "I'll take care of this tool."

At that, the journalist's eyes widened with fear and judging from the smirk on Steve's lips, I knew things would be okay.

"Thank you," I told him, hugging him quickly, before looking to the servant. "I'll go now. Thank you."

After giving the servant some money to grab a treat and calm him from his breathless state, I got a carriage home with my mind racing a million thoughts a minute.

Why was the wedding off? My mum was distraught, according to the servant, so that could only mean it hadn't been her choice. Was it Y/B/N? Had he broken it off? Or maybe it was Wanda? But no. She'd never do that. She wouldn't hurt her family like that.

I wasn't sure what it was, but I definitely didn't know how to feel. This could either be heavily in my favour or go against me in the worst way possible...

When I arrived home, I found my family in the dining room. My mum was sat down, upset and shaking her head in her hands, tear marks on her face. My dad was sat beside her, rubbing her back soothingly and whispering calming things to her as my brother stood to the side, looking apologetic and uncomfortable.

"It's okay, mum, it'll be okay," he was saying to her from across the table. "It's not a big deal. I can find somebody–"

"Hello...," I began awkwardly, standing in the doorway and hesitant to move forward. "I just got the news from our servant. What happened?"

"Oh, Y/N, you shouldn't have–" my father began regretfully, before my mum slammed her hand on the table and glared at my brother.

"Y/B/N broke off the engagement!" she shouted with frustration.

"There you go...," my dad mumbled before returning his attention to his wife.

"Mum, I–"

"You did what?!" I cut Y/B/N off with raised brows. "You broke off the engagement? You dumped Wanda?"

He looked to me with sad eyes. "Y/N–"

"You idiot!" I shouted, feeling angry as I imagined the effect this must have had on the Maximoff family. "What the hell is wrong with you?! Why would you–?!"

He grabbed my waving arm and dragged me out of the dining room, making me shove him off when we reached the hall.

"Why the hell did you break it off?!" I yelled at him with a glare. "Why would you–"

"I didn't!" he whisper-shouted back, looking down at me with a downcast expression. "She did!"

My anger faded as I realised he was telling the truth. He looked genuinely hurt, eyes glassy and a frown on his lips. Wanda was the one to break it off? What?

"She broke it off with me," he elaborated quietly, so our parents couldn't hear. "She told me this morning. She said she didn't love me and that she couldn't marry me."

I swallowed hard, looking away from him momentarily. "Why did you tell mum and dad that it was you who broke up with her?"

He pinched his forehead with agitation. "Because it looks a lot less foolish if I say it was me rather than her. She doesn't love me, Y/N. She never did."

I risked looking at him, seeing his disheartened expression. Part of me felt guilty because I knew it was my fault this had happened, but I couldn't exactly say that to him, so I stayed quiet. He shook his head once more before walking away, leaving me standing there with shock.

"Er, Miss Y/L/N?"

I spun around when one of our servants approached me.

"I know now isn't the best time," she began, "but a letter came for you earlier. I left it on your desk as you were at work."

Nodding, I offered the servant a halfhearted smile before watching her leave. There was so much to unpack right now...

I headed upstairs and to my room to see what letter was here for me. But I was finding it hard to focus since all that was on my mind was the broken engagement and Y/B/N and Wanda... I needed to see her. What the hell was I doing here?

Planning on going to see Wanda as soon as possible, I grabbed the letter from my desk with the intention of reading it on the way out, but then I recognised the handwriting on the front and paused at my desk.

It was Wanda's handwriting.

I hurried to tear open the envelope, wondering what she had to say. It was no doubt related to the broken engagement.

Dearest Y/N,

I hope that you manage to read this letter before you hear the news, but knowing our families, you'll read it afterwards. In which case, you will know that I have broken off the engagement with Y/B/N.

It was the right thing to do. I chose to do it and I'm sorry if it's caused tension between your brother and your family, but I knew that I couldn't go forward with it when I'm in love with you. I'm not expecting you to come back to me and run away together all dramatically – this isn't about that.

I did this for myself. I'm not in love with your brother and I never was. He should have known that. He had to. Because if not, I'm afraid I broke his heart. And that's the last thing I wanted.

I also did this for you. I need you to know that I'm not heartless or horrible and I didn't expect you to sacrifice anything for me. Cheating on your brother with you... I never meant for this to happen, nor did I mean to get in the way of you both. Falling in love with you was completely accidental, but I don't regret it.

I don't want to go on too much, but I just needed you to know the truth, from me, that I am truly sorry for causing you such pain. I'm still in love with you and I'll never forget what we had. In another lifetime, maybe we could have worked. I'm certain that you were always perfect for me, as was what we had. You are magic, Y/N. I just wasn't powerful enough to keep you.

When I finished reading, I flipped the page over, expecting to find more, but it was blank. She'd ended it there and I didn't know what to think. My heart was racing, mind adjusting too slowly for my liking. She'd broke it off with him for me. I knew she loved me, but I guess I'd never realised just how much.

After recovering from my shock, I put the letter away and left for Wanda's, not bothering to tell my family where I was going. My dad was attempting to console my disappointed mother as Y/B/N moped around somewhere else, so I took that as my chance to nip out without them noticing.

I was trying to plan what to say to her – I didn't even know what I wanted to say to her. She said she didn't expect me to get back with her, and even without Y/B/N and their engagement in the way, we still couldn't be together. Not like how we wanted to be. But I wanted to. I wanted her. All this time without her had been heartbreaking – I didn't want to leave her again. I didn't know the specifics of how we would work, but we could work. We had to.

When I reached her house, it was her mother who opened the door. And that's when I realised that I wasn't sure if she blamed Y/B/N or her daughter for the engagement breaking apart.

"Iryna, hi," I greeted with a nervous smile. "I'm sorry if this is a bad time–"

"Y/N, I'm glad you're here," she cut me off, immediately pulling me in for a hug. "Thank you for coming."

I nodded with mild confusion, returning the hug, before pulling away.

"I'm so sorry for the pain Wanda has caused to your family," she said regretfully. "I hope that your parents aren't as distraught as we are."

I eyed her strangely, still not sure what Wanda had told her. Either way, I didn't bother questioning it as my urgency to see Wanda was overpowering my curiosity.

"It's okay, Iryna, there's no need to apologise," I reassured her. "My family will be okay... I just thought I'd come and check in on Wanda. It's a lot, what happened."

She nodded sympathetically. "Thank you, sweetheart. You're such a good friend to her." She stood to the side to let me in. "Go on up. She's in her room. Hasn't come out since this morning."

I offered a small, awkward smile Iryna's way before letting myself in and going upstairs to Wanda's room. My palms were sweaty and my mouth was dry – stupidly juxtaposed – when I stopped before Wanda's door. On the way over here, I still hadn't decided what to say. I figured it would just come to me when I saw her. One could hope.

Knocking on the door, I heard her sweet, accented voice give me permission to enter. My stomach flipped at the sound and I did as she said. Closing the door behind me, I turned and saw Wanda sat at a stool before a canvas.

Noticing I didn't say anything, she glanced over her shoulder casually, probably expecting a family member. She widened her eyes when she realised it was me and immediately stood up, smoothing out her paint-covered smock in an attempt to look neater. The simple action warmed my heart – she was adorable and I couldn't help but smile.

"Hi," I said quietly.

She cleared her throat, eyes darting around nervously. "Hey. I didn't– what are– hi."

I let my eyes wander, admiring her messy ponytail and the strokes of paint on her face that she definitely wasn't aware of. She was stunning, even with her confused eyes and pursed lips. Better yet, her hand was ring-free and I was reminded of the fact that she wasn't engaged anymore.

"I assume you're here because you read the letter," she began apologetically, but I didn't let her finish because the longer I was in her presence, the more I realised I wanted to kiss her.

Approaching her, I found her eyes before pressing my lips to hers. My hands cupped her cheeks as I held her close, revelling in her taste and scent and touch. She was quick to react, her fingers curling around my waist and tugging me towards her, squeezing our bodies together. Breathing became a problem and we regretfully had to pull away, but remained close enough to exchange breaths and swim in each other's eyes. I'd never been more relieved to see the colour green.

"You're not mad," she realised, looking between my eyes as if trying to search for some anger.

"How can I be mad that you broke off your engagement for me, knowing we can never be together in the way that you deserve?" I asked with disbelief.

She smiled beautifully, making my heart flutter in my chest. "You still love me."

I stole another kiss from her lips. "I never stopped, Wanda. Of course I still love you."

She rested her forehead to mine and closed her eyes peacefully. "Thank you for coming back."

I laughed, feeling tears brim my eyes. "I'm not leaving again, love. We'll find a way to make this work. I promise you that."

Wanda Maximoff deserved the world. And I was going to give it to her in this lifetime and beyond.