#i kind of hate his old design

[oobbbear]

Drew my classic angel demon duo (runs off)

[starrysharks]

evilution

[artinandwritin]

I forgot to post this haha (that's what being too busy with animation brings you oops) but anyway!! Older gussiri designs bc I think they deserved that (they did have designs in my mind but I had never made a reference for them haha)

Plus some notes on what they're up to at that age! They're so silly <333

[oof-ow-my-bone]

workshopping middle earf guy 🤧

[qstarhalo]

WHAT HAPPENED TO PURPLE PIE MAN WHY DOES HE LOOK THE WAY HE IS.

[dexaroth]

hi

[boyfriendyke]

trigun stampede is insane cuz it's like. knives shows up in episode three. EPISODE THREE. i've finished 19 episodes of the og trigun and i havent seen knives outside of flashbacks. wdym youre putting him in episode three.

[never-quite-buried]

“2) to make real amends to her primary victims. Also, having her sit and talk to Tony about her anger against the American military industrial complex (which was what killed her parents) and how she conflated that with Stark.”

In what way does IM1 not tell us that Stark IS the MIC? Like. This scene is pretty explicit.

_____________________________________________________________

anonymous  asked:

1) Re: Wanda and her lack of redemption arc- One of the MCU’s biggest fuck yous was that they allowed Zemo to apologize to T'challa for his Father’s death as collateral in his revenge scheme, but didn’t have the decency to allow Wanda to do the same to the Avengers for stripping them of their autonomy and using them to hurt other people (of which the primary victims were Tony and Bruce). If they wanted to redeem her and make her more sympathetic, they really should have allowed her _____________________________________________________________

ambitious-witch  answered:

I’m really sorry that I didn’t answered this last night, nonny but it was very late here and I was on mobile.

1) Exactly. But honestly I like Zemo more than Wanda for that. They allowed him to apologise, but also they showed him not being so bat-shit hateful blaming all the evil on his life to the Avengers (just the death of his family) and he neither played the victim. Like Wanda did.

The problem with Wanda lays directly in her “tragic backstory”, I mean, just listening to it, it’s ridiculous:

This is a backstory that doesn’t work for an anti-villain/anti-hero to go straight up a hero. Because it’s illogical. The audience that has a minimal knowledge of how the world works knows that blaming the person that made the weapon is stupid an illogical.

Second part of the ask:

2) to make real amends to her primary victims. Also, having her sit and talk to Tony about her anger against the American military industrial complex (which was what killed her parents) and how she conflated that with Stark. She has serious trauma that needs to be laid out. I mean, Tony could have talked about how he too realized the faults in the MID and is trying to make amends for his ignorance and inaction. How it has led him to believe in accountability and checks and balances

Part three:

3) LIKE THE FUCKING ACCORDS. It would have been 10x better than Steve’s convo w/ her in the beginning of Civil War, where he treats her unintentional murder of 12 ppl as a small hiccup that can be corrected w/ “try try again”. But no, all we end up w/ is a character marketed as a child half the time, and an adult the other half. It’s character assassination and it sucks. Either show her struggle w/ redemption and accountability as a member of the Avengers, or keep her a villain.

The problem here nonny, it’s that the dynamics are terribly flawed and bad placed. With Wanda, her deed of joining the Avengers it was not for goodness, it’s was common sense and self-preservation. We never see her re-thinking about Tony or showing a single little remorse about hurting him, neither she seems to want to stop and think about the situation. Tony talking to her would have required she trying to go closer and talk but to the first moment that we see her on screen with him her intention are clearly hostile:

Look at the corporal language of this part. This is a hero? No.

This is an anti-hero? No.

This is someone who is conflict?

I dare say: no.

The point about anti-heroes and anti-villains is they know, very deep in them, they have a doubt, a conflict. Wanda doesn’t. She knows what she is doing. She knows that she is hurting someone and she knows what she did. Take a look to Bruce too:

Also take her reaction when he calls her out for mindfucking him:

Her expression seems to be the one of someone who regrets her bad deeds.

But…

Her face hardens when he threatens her and she doesn’t speak about the topic again. Not with him, not with Clint in their oh so marvellous pep talk.

Someone that answered one of my posts said that showing Wanda’s struggles were that ridiculous scene whit with her crying in front of Clint, so the audience have to see her as a poor misunderstood child that was very scared and didn’t know what she was doing…

That’s not how it works!

Wanda should have showed struggle and conflict since the beginning of the movie! She should have interacted with people that she hurt as you said but she didn’t!

And before somebody says something…

Clint doesn’t count! Steve doesn’t count!

Clint was not attacked by Wanda, he didn’t suffered in her hands. Steve? He forgave her at the instant. He attacked his armour-less teammate because of her word. He told Natasha, one of Wanda’s victims “she with us”, like she hadn’t some right of feeling uncomfortable by her presence!

They don’t count!

The base, the point for an anti villain to be redeemed and made an ally or friend in front of their enemies is the interaction and and the villain admitting that they hurt the protagonists. It’s simple, take Regina Mills in Once Upon A Time. She never became in a full hero but she earned trust by admitting her bad deeds. She showed struggle and doubt. She became a wondeful anti-hero Wanda didn’t.

Just look at the moment when she decides to side with the Avengers:

What choice do we have?

This is someone that learned form her mistakes. No.

No.

No.

No!

This is somebody that wants to fucking live. She wants to keep herself and her brother alive. There’s no doubt here. Not struggle in the loyalties. No conflict! She switched sides in the beginning and she does it again because it’s convenient for her. Not for goodness or anything that changes that she hurt people during all the movie!

She doesn’t doubt for a fucking instant to go to the “winning side”:

What kind of anti-hero can you get of that?

Which leads to CW. You said that she siding with Tony would have been the better, and yes, it would have been a good character development she being remorseful and keeping her initial supposed believes about accountability but with motherfucking Johannesburg, how it’s that possible?

How?

Like, that’s what the Russo and M&M tried to to do and failed miserably. They tried to sell us an anti-hero. They washed her awful deeds and make her look as conflicted when she never hesitated at the beginning.

They tried to us to believe that she can’t control her powers.

And that

is

bullshit.

And just bullshit.

They also made her clothes more clear, her hair too. Miss Elizabeth was wearing a wig, it was not difficult have one as her hair was in the previous movie.

They tried to vanish the darkness of her. Why? Because it its more difficult present a redemption for villain than a anti-hero. Or as that idiotic writers seem to think: that poor kid that did no wrong.  

Because it was more easy to forgive this:

Than this:

So, they invented this new Wanda, and put all the blame in Tony’s shoulders. The funny thing it’s that the audience it’s stupid enough to believe it. That might talk about the power of the female characters of being forgiven for everything as long they have a pretty face and a delikate body.

Even if it’s a character without struggles or good intentions, or remorse.

So, nonny, my opinion is firm. Wanda Maximoff’s redemption arc was a fuck you because she didn’t deserved or needed one.

Because Wanda Maximoff is better as a villain.

______________________________________________________________

An interesting take, to be sure, @ambitious-witch​. But as with most of these types of posts, you’re leaving out a few key details that vastly change the meaning of the extracted clips.

Let’s start at the top.

Wanda as a villain in AoU had one stated goal - destroy Tony Stark in revenge for her parents’ death. (The Avengers were kind of lumped into that revenge plan because they were acting as ally and protector to Tony.)

However, what you’re failing to mention is that this isn’t just a ten-year-old girl experiencing an intense, two-day long trauma that scars her for life and imprints the name that she had to stare at the whole time in her mind as the culpable party.

This is an entire country that believes that Tony is at fault for their loss.

In the beginning of AoU we are shown the Avengers attacking Strucker’s lab. In one of the scenes, Tony lands the Iron Legion in the middle of Sokovia and has them announce to the citizens that the sector is not safe.

The citizens are extremely wary - a few of them fleeing the area - but as soon as they figure out that the suits are just standing in place talking, they all start throwing things and attacking the suits.

Why is this?

Because HYDRA has been set up there for years, using stolen (or purchased) Stark tech to terrorize the city and kill people.

This isn’t just one random bomb. This is years of weapons emblazoned with the Stark logo being dropped on the city, knock-off iron legion suits shooting people in the street…this is and has been an all-out war, and the only clue that anyone’s had is that all of the weapons say “Stark” on them. And coming from an American weapons tycoon, that’s pretty damning evidence, as far as they’re concerned.

So damning, in fact, that when Strucker is looking for human test subjects for a highly dangerous and potentially deadly experiment, he gets dozens of volunteers, all of which die at his hands.

Except for the twins.

Destroying Tony is Wanda and Pietro’s main goal, yes, however at this point it is no longer just about revenge for their parents.

Maria shows video clips to Cap of the two of them leading riots in the street, trying to fight back. In response to Maria’s comment of “we aren’t at war anymore,” Steve tells her “they are.”

This isn’t two kids with a crazy revenge plan. This is two young adults who have suffered bitterly and are determined to see the cause of that suffering stopped before it can do any more damage to anyone else, even at the expense of their own lives. Because even if Tony Stark is not the one personally pushing the “fire” button on the missiles, he is the one creating them. And with no arms supplier, there will be no more weapons to use on Sokovia.

If the story had been shot from the perspective of someone in Sokovia, Wanda and her brother would have been the heroes of this story all along.

We as viewers are purposefully kept in the dark about what’s been going on there until the twins are established as the “villains” of the story - making sure the revelation is received as a sad explanation of why they’ve set themselves up as opponents to the Avengers as opposed to starting with a goal that we as viewers can get behind.

In fact it’s not until near the end that we figure out that Sokovia isn’t just some HYDRA-loving anti-Avengers stronghold, but victims of numerous and immeasurable crimes committed in the Avengers’ names.

Making Wanda and her brother “unlikable” before making them sympathetic was done purposefully to make sure that the viewers didn’t pity them or sympathize with them too quickly, or else the Avengers would seem far too harsh going into later fights.

The twins had to throw the first stone, or the Avengers would come across as unsympathetic.

More importantly, we are only ever shown the twins acting villainous toward the Avengers.

Maria states that Wanda only ever seems to inflict non-lethal damage to her victims, leaving them temporarily traumatized but alive and more than able to recover. (Ultron is the only one killing when they are stealing their resources, and he is leaving very telltale signs that it was him.)

A number of the places they hit up are run by HYDRA or smugglers - all of them “bad” people doing bad things.

The twins are kind to and friendly with the poor people in Sokovia. Wanda is protective of Dr. Strucker. The two of them are hesitant and uncertain when Klaue doesn’t immediately cower in fear, not wanting to escalate the situation any further than they have to.

And the second that they find out that Ultron’s goal is more than just the death of the six Avengers, they pull a 180 and attack him.

They follow a very common movie arc: fight against problem, join “ally” to fix problem, find out that “ally” is lying/backstabbing and that enemy isn’t quite as bad as we thought, team up with former “enemy” to stop the bigger threat, form a new alliance with once-enemy, save the day.

(Hell, a number of these themes show up in the plot-line of movies like Iron Man and Black Panther.)

These two are not villains. They’re a pair of teenagers fighting in a war to save their people.

A pair of teenagers who have been manipulated and abused and made to think that they were doing the right thing since they were ten.

(And yes, I realize that the actors are in their mid twenties, but canonically Wanda and Pietro are closer to 18 or 19 during the events of this movie, and thus are not yet legally “adults.”)

I don’t see you throwing a fit over Zemo torturing and eventually drowning that one HYDRA agent. Or Stark blowing up a terrorist group. Or Fury shooting the people attacking his ship in Avengers.

The difference? We as the audience know that they’re bad guys, so it’s okay to do whatever to them, because they clearly deserved it.

We don’t care, nor are we made to care, if the person being thrown down a flight of stairs or stabbed in the face was just a desperate man who needed money for his family, or someone who was there because some higher-up had blackmail over their head.

We don’t know, and quite frankly (as far as most viewers are concerned) it doesn’t matter.

This is the same situation, just seen from the other side of the coin for once.

Wanda and Pietro know that the Avengers are bad. Therefore why would they question if what they’re doing - attacking them - is wrong?

The other problem with painting these two as hardened criminals is that they don’t ever really act it. Every scene that they’re in, the two of them are hovering around one another, uncertain. Seeking reassurance. Comforting. In Wanda’s’ case, quite often, hiding.

In fact, Wanda’s always shown to be the more hesitant of the twins.

Pietro is quick to rush off into a fight, while she lingers behind until it comes to a confrontation that she cannot avoid. This is shown three times. First, in Strucker’s lab, where Pietro rushes outside to mess with the Avengers and Wanda hides in the base until Steve tries to get Strucker. Second, in the scrapyard, where Pietro zips off and Wanda hesitates at Ultron’s side until he tells her “time for some mind games.” Third, in the tower scene, where Pietro is first to take action when he unplugs the cradle, but Wanda doesn’t join the fight until she’s the last one on her side that’s still standing.

Even in the very first scene, you see them holding hands, and Wanda chewing her nails with nerves.

Immediately after that we get a close up of their faces, showing the two of them looking scared when they hear that the Avengers are on their way.

They aren’t out there actively hunting the Avengers down. They’re waiting for orders, because they don’t really know what they’re doing. They’re frightened of what’s about to happen. They’re both in this way over their heads.

They may not be ten anymore, but a lot of what they do is very child-like because of the rough and traumatic childhood the two of them had. They never grew out of it.

These two put on a bold act, but the minute the real teeth come out they’re just a pair of frightened and uncertain children. Often, until Ultron shows up as the “adult leader” of the group, the two of them don’t even take action.

And again, I’ll bring up the scene with Klaue.

The two of them step into his office and pull their go-to “be afraid of me” act to get info, but Klaue straight up brushes it off.

He laughs at their threats. Talks down to them. Offers them candy. Teases them. Dares them to do their worst.

And Wanda and Pietro are at a complete and utter loss because they don’t know how to approach a situation where their threats have not been enough. Ultron’s instructions did not include a caveat for “if the dude straight up laughs at you instead of spilling everything he knows and begging for his life.”

Therefore, the two of them are left standing in the doorway, looking to one another in confusion for what to do next, and Wanda even starts moving back into the shadows where she’ll be more safe.

Similarly, in the end fight, Wanda constantly looks to Clint - the nearby adult - for instruction.

Wanda and Pietro don’t even attack the Avengers at the scrapyard until Ultron gives the command.

It’s the same scenario in the scene right after they go to the tower with Steve, when they confront the other Avengers alone - the twins ultimately let Steve make the calls for them.

Unfortunately, the still-shot you have of Wanda doesn’t quite do justice to her reaction in the scene.

This isn’t “closing off.”

See the way she leans back a little? The little hitch in her chest? The way her throat tightens? This isn’t this isn’t her hardening off, this is her trying not to show fear. She’s seen the Hulk. She knows that Banner is the only one who might be able to tear her in half despite her powers.

It’s why she immediately stops fighting and freezes up when he grabs her.

You can clearly see the terror in her eyes the second she realizes who it is that’s got their arm around her throat.

In this scene, the twins have walked into the lion’s den - the Avengers’ home base - and even though they’re trying to look tough and keep their cool, they’re both terrified for their lives.

You can hear the fear in Wanda’s voice when Clint shoots the floor out from under Pietro. You can see the two of them sticking right by each other’s sides and looking around nervously in case they’re attacked.

They don’t argue or make excuses when they’re confronted, they back down because they know that they’ve wronged these people and the Avengers are under no obligation to listen to them.

The two of them are risking death at the Avenger’s hands so they can try to warn them about Ultron and prevent things from getting any worse.

And I would beg to differ with your interpretation of this scene. This is in no way self-preservation. This is suicide.

Her last little act of defiance barely a scene before nearly wound up with her and Pietro being shot.

And yet here she is, standing up to Ultron again. But this isn’t her siding with the Avengers to save her skin.

This is her picking death with the losing team.

Because in this scene?

ULTRON IS THE WINNING SIDE.

Ultron’s plan for a new world included Wanda and her brother. He was going to wipe the slate clean, and leave the two of them as the “better” humans in his new world. The “evolved” race that would rule at his side. If they’d stayed with him, they would have been guaranteed safety, because as we saw at the scrapyard, the Avengers are no match for the three of them, and Ultron is fond of the twins in his own strange way.

But they don’t stay with Ultron, where they are guaranteed life and safety.

This line here is Ultron’s last warning that she either assist him, or die with the rest of the Avengers trying to fight him. This was far less “oh well, Ultron is losing, guess I’ll change sides because I’ll get to live” and more “I don’t see how there is a choice here because unless I stop him he’s going to destroy the world.”

“What choice do we have” is a statement of morals, because as far as she’s concerned, there IS no choice. She has to stop him or die trying.

Helping him any longer is not even an option.

Now, as far as your point about Steve and Clint’s trust in her being “worthless” because:

“They don’t count!“

It’s quite frankly ridiculous.

There is one person who even comes close to fully trusting them before the final battle starts in, and that is Steve.

Steve has been playing devil’s advocate this whole movie, because he understands what the twins are going through. He’s not so caught up in his own country and his own issues that he can’t look at a situation from another perspective and say “I understand why they’re doing this.”

In fact, he even offers the twins a chance to walk away right before the fight at the scrapyard.

He didn’t magically start trusting them out of the blue, he’s been willing to hear their side of things from the start.

“Clint was not attacked by Wanda, he didn’t suffered in her hands. Steve? He forgave her at the instant. He attacked his armour-less teammate because of her word. He told Natasha, one of Wanda’s victims “she with us”, like she hadn’t some right of feeling uncomfortable by her presence!”

And here is where you start leaving out key details again.

Of the Avengers, Clint was the only one to fully escape having Wanda play with his fears, because he beat her to the punch. However, despite the fact that he’s the only one unscathed, he’s the most vocal about not trusting her.

It is not until much, much later - when Clint has already seen her in action, desperately trying to save the civilians from Ultron’s clones despite her own fear - does he step in to talk her down and keep her from having a panic attack because he realizes her heart is in the right place.

Even then he doesn’t actually decide to trust her until she saves him from being cornered and killed by the robots.

Out of the remaining Avengers, three of them suffered major trauma from Wanda’s actions, and two of them got off relatively okay.

The one who got off with the least damage from the encounter was ironically Tony Stark, who was shown a vision of what was supposed to be his worst fear - him being responsible for the death of his team - and who proceeded to shake it off and walk away, none the worse for wear.

(Note, this is one of Wanda’s early attempts at this kind of thing, a point which relates to a section further down about Wanda’s skill with her powers. She’s not very good at the whole nightmare vision thing just yet in the story, but by the time the scrapyard scene rolls around she’s gotten plenty of practice.)

Tony never actually voices any opinion on whether or not they should trust the twins. He just rolls with it.

The other Avenger who got off pretty light was actually Thor, who took his vision as a warning that something big was coming and went to investigate further. He also doesn’t specifically voice an opinion on the twins, but seems to be A-okay with trusting the two of them.

Of the three that had it pretty bad, Steve was able to recover the best. Perhaps this is part of the serum - his body fixing the physical symptoms of mental trauma - or perhaps he’s just better at coping with his particular fear because he’s been doing it since he awoke in the present. Either way, Steve is at least relatively functional after his run-in with Wanda.

He’s also the first one to trust her, because she and her brother risked their necks fighting Ultron to save both him and the innocent people that Ultron tried to kill as a distraction. Like I’ve mentioned before, Steve is still willing to give them a second chance because he knows there’s backstory there and he can sympathize.

The two that had it the worst were Natasha and Bruce.

Natasha, who straight up went out of commission when all of her heavily repressed trauma got dragged back to the forefront, isn’t really around for the scene where the twins switch sides. She comes in after the fact, when they’re already mid-fight, to find that the twins are fighting against Ultron with them.

Steve reassures her that the twins are on their side, and Natasha rolls with it.

She takes Steve’s word for it because she trusts Steve as much as she trusts Clint - absolutely and entirely.

You forget, these two just went through the events of Captain America: Winter Soldier together, where “everybody we know is trying to kill us.” Natasha and Steve had to trust in each other completely, it’s the only way they lived to see the end of that movie. Natasha’s trust in Steve is not reset just because the film title changed.

However the real key here is that Natasha’s trust in the twins is not complete.

She’ll trust the twins for this fight, because Steve said they were there to help, and then she’ll make her own call on whether or not she feels like forgiving them. This wasn’t Steve saying “I’ve cleared these two, I expect you to magically be okay with that.” It was Steve reassuring her that during this fight, their only attacker would be Ultron, and that the twins were helping to fight back.

In a battle situation, that’s all Natasha needs to know before her attention turns to saving people, because there is no time for a debate or questions during an all-out attack.

There is, however, a good amount of time that passes between the end of the Sokovia fight and the credits scene where we see Wanda with the other “new recruits,” and we are left to assume that something has been worked out between everyone because they all seem okay with each other now.

It is also a full year before we really see Wanda again, in Civil War, and the first thing we see is Natasha coaching her through a stake out, as a mentor.

Clearly there is no lingering animosity here.

As for Banner, well…

Bruce basically says that he could kill Wanda without remorse. He’s pissed, and rightfully so.

However, he ALSO doesn’t deny needing the twins’ help when fighting Ultron. He never says “we shouldn’t trust them” or “we shouldn’t let them come with us;” and Hulk flies off into space (literally) before Banner gets a chance to actually sit down and think about whether or not the twins should be allowed to join the Avengers.

In fact, the only one who straight up says that he doesn’t trust anything to do with the twins is Clint…

The only one who didn’t get affected by Wanda’s nightmares.

So I’m honestly not quite sure where you’re getting your argument from.

As far as I make it out, the people who got the nightmare treatment were aware that they were seeing their own memories and thoughts and fears played back to them. Wanda wasn’t showing them anything new, so most of them didn’t take the attack as anything personal, and in fact we see Natasha having a bit of a personal crisis over the not-so-great bits of her past that are being shoved back in her face for the second time since CA:tWS.

She’s not mad at Wanda for bringing it up, she’s mad at herself for being the way she was before Clint saved her.

Clint, who isn’t sure what the others saw and is watching everything from the outside, is pissed. He watched his friends suffer because of whatever the witch did to them, and he’s not only angry with her, but dead set on not forgiving or trusting her, either.

At least until she and her brother both save him, and he starts wondering if they might not be so bad after all.

”You didn’t see that coming.”

As for Wanda being in control of her powers, I would say it depends on what aspect of her powers we’re talking about.

In AoU she has been sitting in a cell for God knows how long, practicing the same four moves:

Move small solid object. Shield. Look through people’s heads and pull certain thoughts to the forefront. Throw her power around like an energy burst.

Of these four, by the time Civil War rolls around, we only ever see her use the first two.

Age of Ultron:

Civil War:

When she does this trick, she does it with great proficiency and incredible accuracy. She’s good at this one. Her shield has also improved to the point where she can multitask while holding it.

In Civil War, however, she’s picked up a number of new moves:

Levitation/flying with her powers. Moving non-solid objects like poisonous gasses. Forming a net with her powers to lift teammates. Manipulating large solid objects with her telekinesis. Manipulate object behavior.

However, we no longer see her using throwing her power directly at anyone anymore. She picks up objects to throw at them, or grabs them by a hand or foot and tosses them back, but she no longer throws the raw energy around.

She also doesn’t go into anyone’s heads.

Do you have any idea how easily she could have pulled something like this at at the airport battle? Re-routed team Stark on some wild goose chase while Team Cap all waltzed over to the jet and flew off with no problem?

Stark and Co. wouldn’t have even known what hit them until Team Cap were loooong gone.

But she doesn’t.

Because Wanda doesn’t do that anymore. She’s not that person anymore.

Even with Vision, she’s not going inside his head, she’s just changing his density - first to de-materialize him and make him let go of Clint, and second to make him so heavy that he fell through the floor.

Wanda doesn’t throw her raw powers at people anymore because it’s too dangerous and unpredictable, and she doesn’t go into anyone’s heads anymore because of privacy issues and “brainwashing” and the other negative connotations that come with it, even if it means taking the hard way out of a situation.

She’s changed up her whole fighting strategy.

That being said, I would argue that she is NOT in control of her powers as a whole.

She is in control of certain aspects of her powers to certain extents - namely the ones that she’s practiced repeatedly - but in the grand scheme of things, she really has no idea what she’s actually capable of, therefore she cannot control exactly what her powers will react like if she tries something that’s not on her list of “the eight tricks I’ve practiced for the past six months.”

Thus, Lagos.

She probably didn’t even realize that she could bubble that much raw kinetic energy into such a small space - she was just reacting to the fact that a bomb had gone off in the middle of a packed marketplace and she needed to do something or hundreds of people would have died…likely including everyone in the building, had the foundation gotten destroyed by the blast.

(And would you demons please stop saying that she murdered people in Lagos? I mean really. Do you consider it murder when firefighters can’t get everyone out of a burning building? Or when rescue workers can’t find everyone buried beneath earthquake rubble in time to save them? Or when ambulance workers can’t rescue everyone from the remains of an awful car wreck? Wanda was stopping a bomb from killing people by containing it, and couldn’t get it far enough away to save all of them before the bomb went off. She did not murder anyone.)

In the grand scheme of things, no, Wanda doesn’t know how to control her powers, because she’s not entirely sure just what her powers can DO.

She’s still learning.

I also understand where you’re trying to go with the “lightening the color scheme” angle, but I highly doubt that’s a “nefarious plot to trick the audience into thinking she’s good when she’s not” so much as it’s a stylistic choice to show that she’s in a better place now, both mentally and physically.

Her hair is not only lighter, but has far fewer tangled curls at the bottom, and sports two highlights at the bangs. This isn’t an attempt to portray her as “suddenly good now” so much as an attempt to make her look a bit less like an orphaned street rat. Her hair is clean and brushed and bright and with an actual style, much like Bucky’s hair was actually kept when we saw him in Civil War as opposed to Winter Soldier. It’s to show that she’s taking care of herself better now because she now has the means and mental presence to do so.

Case in point: Her hair appears lighter here than at the final battle. It’s all cinematic, to make her look more or less filthy as the scene requires.

As for the outfit, she’s wearing lighter clothing in that one picture because it’s summer and she’s trying to blend in. Just like how Natasha, who normally sports black, is dressed in pale colors and wearing very little makeup.

In many other scenes in the movie, Wanda retains the black/grey/red color scheme that she’s had going since AoU, such as in the knife clip I linked above:

Black clothing in a similar overall style (short dress, boots, and jacket) just with less heavy eyeliner because she’s grown up a little and is keeping herself a bit more maintained than before.

Claiming cinematic trickery here is really reaching for threads.

So, to wrap this incredibly long post up…

NO, Wanda is not, and never was, a villain.

Up until the truth is revealed, each party (the twins, and the Avengers) believes themselves fully in the right. When the truth does come out, it is revealed that to some extent, both parties are in the wrong.

Wanda is not conflicted about facing the Avengers because she’s fighting to protect innocent people from them. She becomes conflicted when it turns out that the Avengers weren’t fully to blame for what was going on in Sokovia. (Side-eyeing Stark, here.)

Wanda is neither villain nor anti-villain…

She’s the hero of her own side of the story.

Wanda and Pietro are both heroes, whose story - through the lies and manipulation of people claiming to be allies - intersected with that of the Avengers.

Case in point: these two are alone.

The other Avengers have left the area.

If they were really doing this to save their skin and not to help people, wouldn’t this be the ideal time to say something like “make sure you get on the ship before it leaves” or “as soon as the Avengers aren’t looking, we run” or “the minute the crisis is over, we turn on them?”

There is no reason for Wanda to lie in this situation.

This is why I argue that she was never truly a villain.

In fact I’d go so far as to say that these two are no more the villains of this story than the Avengers were the villains for them.

It was all a big misunderstanding.

Wanda and Pietro were only ever in this to help the people of Sokovia, and they got screwed by the lies and manipulation of the only adult influences they’ve had in their lives since they were ten.

The second that they found out Ultron’s real plan they tried to stop him, even going so far as to approach their enemies for help.

They both act selflessly to rescue civilians and even to rescue the Avengers in the fight for Sokovia.

Throughout the film Wanda and Pietro rather pointedly avoid all collateral damage where they can, and never intended to cause any harm to innocents in their quest for revenge.

(And because I know this is your main screaming point: Johannesburg was 300+ miles away from the shipyard. How was Wanda to know that Hulk was going to run over 300 miles to attack a city when all of her other victims went comatose when shown their greatest fears? It doesn’t logically follow that she would expect anything else, because only the audience knows that making Banner agitated enrages the Hulk, and Banner even says in the movie that Johannesburg was when the world saw the “real Hulk” for the first time. The destruction in Johannesburg was never Wanda’s intended outcome when she went after Banner so you really can’t treat that as intentional.)

In the end, they were willing to overlook their own lust for revenge in order to do the right thing.

And both of them were willing to die fighting to fix what they’d done wrong.

Wanda missed the escape boat because she went to finish off Ultron.

She is shocked when Vision comes back to save her, because at this moment she was entirely ready to die.

Pietro does die.

They were both willing to put their lives on the line to make what they’d done right, and Wanda just got lucky enough to get saved.

Because of all of the above reasons, I think we can firmly state that Wanda was never meant to be a villain in the MCU.

Although on that topic, let me ask you…what exactly do you think would have happened if the writers had decided to go your route? If they’d decided to make her the villain instead of going the redemption route?

She single-handedly takes out every member of Team Stark at the airport battle in Civil War. The only one who even managed to land a hit on her is Rhody, and he only did so by sneaking up behind her while she was preoccupied holding up thousands of tons of rubble, and shooting her point-blank in the back.

And all of that was Wanda being gentle and holding back.

If she was a villain - if she was actually going all out - would any of the Avengers even survive a fight against her?

Based on the way she disintegrated those robots with just a second of lost control, I severely doubt it.

You do not want her as a villain in any capacity. I guarantee you that.

That being said, by strict definition, no, Wanda is not an anti-villain.

But she’s not a villain either.

She’s a unique and complicated character, whose story was approached at a fairly new angle as far as script writing is concerned, and who managed to be both protagonist and antagonist at once.

There is not a doubt in my mind, however, that by the end of Age of Ultron, that girl was just as much of a hero as anyone else on that screen.

Chirpingtiger out.

[theveryworstthing]

SpaceDancer's request for parasitic roses and Camille Alexander's request for unicorn fops created Angelique.

i now present my newest Charming Little Freak ✨

Angelique is one of those beings that isn't cleanly classified as a fae or a demon. he/it/whatever (roses are perfect plants and so it mostly goes by the pronouns common for the additional sex of his host body in human society because they couldn't care less) is a Rampant. a type of sapient parasitic rose that, over time, transforms the body of their host from a simple quadruped beast to bipedal humanoid (kinda) monster. every Rampant seems to mold themselves into unique forms, and designs often carry over if they somehow manage to get "uprooted" without dying and have to start over with a new flesh body. if Rampants stay rooted then they're borderline immortal even though their hosts are...dead? it's unclear. the Rampant certainly carries memories of what it was like being an animal and their flesh and blood is altered, but alive. the body keeps the score whether they like it or not. but the beast itself, its mind, dies quickly after a Rampant takes root. either from the trauma from becoming a Flowerbed or from the Rampant purposefully putting a thorn through its brain. whether fae or demon, Rampants take. they do not possess. they do not imprison.

Angelique currently lives in a small dying village, spending his time checking in on the aging population as a kind of town housemaid/caretaker and tending to his flower shop/apothecary. most people would say that having a creature like him around isn't a great idea, but this eldritch horror has basically been adopted by every lonely old person in town so good luck getting rid of him.

Fun Facts:

he loves nice soft clothes, meat (blood sausage is his favorite), and (in spite of his goth everything all the time) sunlight.

buzzing sounds make him flustered while prolonged exposure to cut grass smells and cold weather make him anxious.

he's an scary good climber and will forgo a door if he knows someone is on a higher floor of a building and he sees an open window.

always well hydrated. carries around a flask of water at all times and likes to sit outside naked when it rains.

he has many little leafy assistants which are also just him. he's like an octopus. the people in the community assign them all little names and give them unique decorations and he thinks it's really cute.

what is he getting out of staying in this village? none of your business.

he's currently in a weird situationship with 2 local gravekeepers from rival graveyards/religions and the recently widowed agnostic town doctor. everyone in this polycule hates everyone else but him. he's also friends with benefits with my character Brooke, who finds all of this hilarious and is eager to hear about the latest disaster every time he passes through town.

[greyskyflowers]

The idea of hell having a claim on Edwin's soul is such a fun avenue to explore. There's a lot of ways I like to think that could manifest.

Personally, I like the idea of the claim mark being inked around his throat like a tattoo, the whole way around it like a collar. It's why he wears his shirt buttoned up all the way and his bow tie all the time.

Something in another language or comprised of runes or other designs that indicate his soul is claimed, but it just looks wrong. There's no good way to describe it but even someone who didn't know it was a claim from hell would be unsettled by it.

And Charles hates it from the first time he sees it.

Especially the more he gets to know Edwin, the more it really sinks in how wrong the whole thing is.

And because the universe apparently just loves to fuck with Edwin, it also hurts. Ghosts can't bleed but sometimes it just kind of oozes a thick black liquid. It will burn, similar to the way iron burns, and it itches. Edwin will mindlessly scratch at it to the point where he'd be bleeding if he was living.

When he's in hell, it manifests as a actual iron collar. It's the same collar each time he comes back after being killed so it's rusted with old blood and forms jagged edges, ripping into the skin while it burns. When he scratches at it, he digs at the skin until it bleeds and sometimes further.

Edwin did not tell Charles about the physical collar. That might have been a misstep on his part, however in his defense he wasn't planning on ending up back in hell or Charles being in hell with him at any point.

So Charles, who's already burning with worry and rage, finds Edwin and learns what actually happens to him down here and finds out the whole time Edwin is collar like a dog... well. It doesn't go well.

Charles wants it off. The mark was bad enough but now he's got an actual fucking collar?

He wants it off Edwin. He wants it off right now. But there's no seam on the collar, it's like it was welded on. It's not meant to come off and it won't, not while they're still in hell.

It's burning into Edwin's skin when he tells Charles he's in love with him and honestly, Charles can barely focus on anything except getting Edwin out of there and that stupid fucking collar smoking and drawing blood.

But he knows he doesn't want to tell Edwin he loves him back right now. Not when they're still in hell with a monster chasing them, both of them exhausted and Edwin hurt.

He'll say it after they're safe and out of hell, after that collar is gone.

He's going to hit the ground running on figuring out how to break the whole damn claim. He hadn't pushed it as much as he should have. Edwin didn't like to talk about it or call attention to it and Charles respected that. He shouldn't have. He should have pushed it because even if Edwin only had the physical collar in hell, he still had the mark constantly.

Charles had spent many nights glaring at it, nights where it was just them in the office and Edwin actually let himself relax, undoing the buttons on his shirt until the mark was visible. His attention would always end up being drawn back to the mark, Edwin too focused on other things to notice.

If he said anything, or even got caught staring at it, he knew Edwin would snap shut. He wouldn't ever let it show again and he deserves a place to be able to relax and not worry about it. Plus, Charles knows that sometimes the mark is sensitive enough that the clothing rubbing against it makes it raw, being able to expose the mark and let it air out was a relief.

The claim gets pushed to the side with everything else that happens but when Charles gets Edwin off the table Esther had made, to torture him and Charles was rapidly coming to the conclusion that he was more than okay being incredibly violent if it means people will leave Edwin and him alone, the mark is dark and black liquid is rolling down his skin in big drips.

He's ready to get Crystal involved by the time they're finally back in the office, even though he knows Edwin has no desire for her to see or know about the curse, but things actually start to go their way.

They're given the okay to stay together and keep solving cases, and Edwin doesn't have to worry about going back to hell.

They're giving the night nurse some shit, welcoming her to the agency with tongue in cheek comments when she mentions something about the cursed claim and both of them straighten up.

It's nothing concrete, but it's worth a shot. Charles feels a little bad for flinging her off the cliff at the lighthouse because there must be something good in her for her to give them this. She could have said nothing and they never would have even thought to ask her.

She can't promise it will work and she doesn't even know if it's the right information but it gives them a place to start and that's more than enough.

Once your soul has been cursed and claimed in such a way, especially by something like hell, it can't ever be completely free again. Something with the makeup of the soul being altered. Ownership of the claim must be transferred to someone else, it isn't broken just shifted.

So, in the end, the only thing that can transfer a claim on a soul like Edwin's is a stronger claim.

Charles is like fucking finally. He's ready to rip Edwin's soul out of everyone else's hands at this point. No one's got a stronger claim on Edwin than him and he'll fight hell to prove it if he needs to.

And honestly, Edwin can't think of anyone else he'd want to have it.

The spell for the transfer works and the mark changes completely. The dark ink lightens to a off grey silver color that's hardly visible unless you look right at it. The edges of the letters/runes/shapes go from jagged and sharp to curved and soft.

The mark doesn't hurt, ooze black, burn, or itch anymore. In fact, Edwin would argue that it's warm, like it's trying to soothe more than anything else.

He would almost say it's pretty.

Charles gets a version of it on his wrist, wrapped around it like a bracelet. It shows more on him with his skin color and Edwin would say it's pretty.

Maybe it's sensitive and touching it on each other feels good. So Charles gets in the habit of brushing his hands over Edwin's throat and petting at the mark. Edwin gets in the habit of grabbing Charles's wrist and holding it, fingers soothing over the mark and the soft skin of Charles's inner wrist.

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

Idk just fun thoughts 🤷‍♀️

[itneverendshere]

rewatching desperate house wives right now and would love to see a little something inspired by gabrielle and carlos?? maybe season 2 when he's in jail and she wants a conjugal visit. just thought it would be fun, love your work!!!

I'M THE GIRL YOU DIE FOR- r.c

pairing: canon!rafe x queenb!kook!reader

of course, you had to be here.

no one else was going to fight for rafe—certainly not that tired, old man, with his cheap suit and receding hairline.

god, you hated this place. the lighting was terrible, the walls a sad, dull beige that screamed "i give up," and the leather chairs were probably fake.

honestly, couldn’t these people at least pretend to have some standards? guess that’s what happens when you’re not the one cutting the checks.

now, instead of champagne and designer brunches, you were spending your afternoons in a hellhole like this. you stood near the chain-link fence, your sunglasses shielding you from the glaring sun.

in the distance, the inmates were out in the yard, working out, talking in groups, smoking—whatever it was they did to kill time.

who thought it was a good idea to have meetings out here? the yard was full of dirt, sweat, and who-knows-what, and the chain-link fence looked like something out of a low-budget crime show. you flicked a piece of lint off your skirt, more for effect than necessity.

maxwell finally showed up, his face blank, like he wasn’t impressed by the outfit you’d spent an hour putting together. whatever. you were here for rafe, not him.

“we need to talk,” you said, tightening the hold on your birkin like it weighed a thousand pounds. it was designer. it probably cost more than his car.

maxwell didn’t even flinch. “about?”

cheap suit, cheap attitude. honestly, if you weren’t so desperate, you’d be done with this idiot by now.

“about my fiancé.” you tilted your head, giving him your best ‘don’t play dumb with me’ look. “we need a conjugal visit. and i need you to make it happen.”

“a conjugal visit?” he said it slow, like you were asking for a miracle.

“yes.” you smiled tightly. “you know, those things where people in prison get to have a little privacy? i want you to get us one.” you rolled your eyes. god, this guy was infuriating. “isn’t that part of your job? to get what we need?”

maxwell raised an eyebrow. “a conjugal visit isn’t part of the deal. rafe’s charges are serious. i’m trying to get your fiancé out of jail, you want me to stop everything just so you can have a booty call?”

he was acting like you were asking for something outrageous.

as if it wasn’t completely reasonable for you to want to see rafe. really see him. after months. this was rafe cameron you were talking about. he had power. you had power. how could this crusty lawyer not understand that?

“i’m not asking, maxwell. i’m telling you. make it happen.”

“i said no.”

you scowled at him, “all we need is an hour. you can’t tell me no! you work for me, you will make it happen.”

he gave a fake sigh, the kind people did when they thought you were being dramatic.

“listen,” he sneered, leaning in slightly. “i’m not your servant. you don’t get to snap your fingers and expect things to just happen. newsflash—your boyfriend is in prison. not some hotel.”

oh, this smug asshole. you were about to really let him have it when a low voice interrupted from behind the fence.

“you got a problem, lady?”

you turned, eyes narrowing as you saw two inmates standing near the fence, both of them massive. tattoos snaked up their arms, and they looked rough. you’d seen them with rafe before.

maxwell glanced back at them, trying to act tough, “excuse me, but this is a private conversation.”

“private? you’re out here talking loud enough for the whole yard to hear. we heard what you said.” he tilted his head toward you, eyes narrowing on maxwell. “sounds like you’re disrespecting cameron’s girl.”

maxwell stammered, suddenly not so confident. “i—i’m just trying to explain that a conjugal visit is complicated. there are rules—”

“we don’t care.”

the second maxwell started running his mouth, you could already tell he had no idea who he was dealing with. he was still trying to act like he had the upper hand, like he was some big-shot lawyer who could push people around. you almost pitied him. almost. but honestly, he deserved what was coming.

“you’re not gonna get away with this,” he snapped, all bravado, puffing out his chest like that was going to make him any less pathetic. “you think you can intimidate me? i’ll have you all locked up for life if you so much as lay a finger on me.”

you rolled your eyes behind your sunglasses. what an idiot.

the bigger inmate—tank, you’d heard people call him—reached through the fence with a broomstick.

you hadn’t even noticed it before, but he must’ve grabbed it from somewhere nearby. he jabbed it into maxwell’s shoulder, not hard enough to really hurt him, but enough to make his point. maxwell jumped back like he’d been electrocuted.

“hey! what the—” he shouted, trying to step out of range, but tank just laughed and poked him again, this time aiming lower, jabbing him in the ribs.

“you don’t make the rules here, old man,” tank sneered, poking him once more, this time a little harder. “you’re gonna learn that the hard way if you don’t shut your mouth. apologize!”

maxwell’s face was turning red now, panic setting in as he tried to dodge the broomstick, but the other guy grabbed the handle, keeping it steady while tank prodded him over and over, relentless.

“i swear to god,” maxwell was screaming now, voice cracking. “i’ll have the guards throw you in solitary! you’ll never see daylight again, i’ll make sure you rot in here!”

the inmates just laughed, like his threats were some kind of joke. and honestly, they were. you watched, arms crossed, completely unbothered, as maxwell flailed, trying to keep his balance while other inmates jabbed other broomsticks at him, from every side, like he was nothing more than a punching bag.

“you hear that, boys?” tank said, grinning as he poked maxwell one more time. “he’s gonna get us locked up for life! like we’re not already in here.” the other inmate burst out laughing. a few more guys started drifting closer to the fence, watching with interest. “apologize!”

maxwell’s face was pure panic now. “stop it!” he screamed, backing up so far he was almost falling over. “i’m serious, i’ll call the warden, i’ll—this is all her fault, if she wasn’t such a goddamn horny b—”

you gasped, insulted, ready to read him to filth but the inmates beat you to it.

“do it,” the second guy sneered, his voice low and threatening. “see if we care. you think we don’t know how to make things happen? you’d be gone before you even got your phone call.”

a few of them started yelling, and jeering, like they were ready to jump in, too. maxwell’s eyes darted around, realizing that this was spiraling out of control.

“you idiots!” he screeched, his voice high-pitched and panicky. “you’ll start a riot! they’ll lock all of you down—no more yard, no more visits, nothing! you’re gonna screw yourselves over!”

but they didn’t care. the guys on the yard were getting riled up now, shouts echoing across the open space. some of them were banging on the fence, rattling it hard enough to make it shake.

“apologize to the lady!”

one of the other inmates reached through the fence, grabbing at his sleeve, yanking him forward. maxwell screamed, struggling to pull away, but the guy held on tight, his grip ironclad.

“come on, boys!” someone yelled from the yard, and suddenly it was like the floodgates had opened. more and more inmates rushed toward the fence, shouting, banging on the metal, some of them reaching through, trying to get a piece of the action, “apologize!”

you adjusted your sunglasses and turned to leave, your heels clicking against the pavement. you hope they kill him for you.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚

you were dressed to the nines, as usual, in a designer dress that probably cost more than what the guards made in a month. even in this drab setting, you looked like you belonged on a yacht, not here, in some depressing room meant for criminals and their girlfriends.

you strutted toward him, your lips glossed to perfection, knowing full well that the bratty smile curling your mouth would drive him insane.

it always did.

rafe was already sitting there, arms crossed, looking as exasperated as you’d ever seen him.

his jaw was clenched, and the muscles there twitched. he was not happy.

you smirked. of course, you weren’t expecting a warm welcome, but at least you got to see him.

“hi, baby,” you purred, batting your lashes as if you weren’t here to make his day harder. “missed me?”

he just stared at you for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed shut like he was trying to find some ounce of patience. then he let out this long, heavy sigh, rubbing his hand down his face before finally looking at you again.

“you—” he started, then stopped, poking his tongue against the inside of his cheek in frustration. “you started a riot because you wanted a conjugal visit?”

you tilted your head innocently, like you didn’t understand why he was so worked up.

“almost,” you corrected, as if that made it any better. “it wasn’t like they actually did anything.” you waved your hand dismissively, the gloss on your lips catching the light as you smiled.

“you—” he stopped, biting the inside of his cheek again, trying to rein it in. he was always like this—prone to temper, to obsession. the need to control everything. especially you. “do you know how close it came to getting out of control? the guards were ready to lock the whole place down. for days. you think that would’ve been good for me, huh?”

you shrugged, not really fazed.

“he was being a dick to me, baby. what was i supposed to do? that lawyer was useless. i wasn’t just going to stand there and let him talk to me like that.”

his eyes dropped to your mouth, unable to resist.

“he was the best lawyer in the fucking county.”

“they clearly need new ones then.”

rafe groaned, trying to keep from losing it completely.

“he almost called me a bitch!”

“were you acting like one?”

“and so what if i was?” you leaned back, crossing your arms, the movement accentuating your designer dress. “he was the one acting like an asshole. he’s lucky i didn’t throw my drink at him. if i’d had one.”

he looked like he was about two seconds away from unleashing his deranged side, rubbing his hand over his face again, like that was going to somehow make all of this disappear.

“you don’t get it, do you? you can’t pull this shit in here, baby. it’s not the fucking outer banks. people don’t just let you get away with whatever you want because you look good and throw money around.”

you rolled your eyes, flipping your hair over your shoulder.

“yeah, well, maybe they should. you don’t see me lowering my standards just because you’re stuck in this dump, do you?” you gestured around the room, your nose wrinkling at the depressing, beige walls. “god, i mean, who chooses these colors? it’s like they want people to lose their minds in here.”

he scoffed, “that’s what you’re worried about? the color of the walls?”

you pouted, “what else was I supposed to do? sit and wait for him to do nothing? ’m not stupid.”

"you're lucky you're even allowed in here after that stunt.”

you gave him a sweet, almost patronizing smile, teeth digging into your lower lip. "aww, baby, are you worried about me?”

"stop," he snapped, "this shit isn’t funny. you think i want to spend the next month in solitary because you couldn't keep your mouth shut?"

you didn’t flinch. in fact, you smiled even wider, enjoying how worked up he was getting.

“don’t be so dramatic. it wasn’t like anything actually happened.”

"you're out there playing power games with people who don't care about you,” he tapped two fingers against his temple, brows slightly raised,“they won’t bow down because you’ve got money or a pretty face."

"maybe not, but they’ll listen if i push hard enough," you said coolly. "and guess what? they did."

he clenched his jaw again, running his hands through his growing hair in frustration. he looked like he was fighting every instinct not to explode.

"you really think you're helping me, don’t you?"

you crossed your legs slowly, adjusting your dress so the fabric draped perfectly. “would you rather have me fuck someone else? y’know… a free man?”

that got a reaction. his eyes flickered with something dangerous, a smirk forming at the corner of his mouth as he leaned in close.

“you wouldn’t.” he whispered, the words laced with venom and amusement at the same time.

your smile turned wicked. “wouldn’t i?”

his fingers twitched on the table, the way they always did when he was seconds away from grabbing you.

“you’re really testing me right now,” he said slowly, his fingers drumming on the metal table between you. "you think ’m stuck in here, so you can play your little games? make me jealous?”

you held his gaze, unbothered, your lips curling into a defiant smile. "’m just reminding you that i have options. ones that aren’t sitting in a prison cell.”

he chuckled darkly, though there was nothing funny about the look in his eyes.

"options, huh?" his voice was edging on borderline strained. "and what makes you think i wouldn't kill any man who even looked at you?"

"you’d have to catch him first, wouldn’t you? and we both know you’re a little… tied up at the moment."

his hand shot out, gripping your lower cheecks with a force that sent you spiriling, remembering how he used to manhandle you anytime he got his hands on you, your faces were almost touching.

his eyes were wild. possession. obsession. the kind of dark love that made you both feel alive.

“you’re mine. no matter where i am, no matter who else you think you can have. you’re mine.”

“then get the stupid conjugal visit,” you hissed through your teeth, “’m horny.”

“’m not asking you. ’m telling you. you don’t have options sweetheart. you never did.”

you felt your pulse quicken.

god, he was insane, but that’s what made it so intoxicating.

he was right. no matter what you said or did, no matter how much you tried to push his buttons, it always came back to one thing: you belonged to him.

“i’ll get you your damn visit,” he continued, his voice dropping lower, “but ’m not doing it because you demanded it. ’m doing it because you need to be reminded of something.” he leaned back, letting go of your face, his fingers printed into your cheeks, keeping his eyes locked on yours, “you’re mine. and i’ll make sure you remember that.”

you rubbed where his grip had been, the throbbing sensation making it clear that he hadn’t lost his touch—he never did.

you grinned as you leaned forward, closing the space between you two again, “i’ll be waiting, baby.”

rafe’s smirk widened, his eyes burning with that possessive glint you knew all too well. there was no escaping him, not that you really wanted to.

“enjoy your time behind bars,” you added, standing up slowly, your movements deliberate, making sure he had a full view of your ass as you walked toward the exit. “maybe i’ll find a way to keep myself busy until you get out.”

he didn’t answer, but you could feel his eyes burning into your back as you left the room.

you knew you were pushing him, playing with fire, but that’s how you both liked it. this was the game you played. you couldn’t wait for him to remind you exactly who you belonged to.

[timmydraker]

CW: extremely dubious consent, assault and p3d0phillia (not romanticised), self-victimisation blaming, sui attempt. Be safe, be kind.

Tim’s parents mainly had a child for the financial gain as well as popularity.

As soon as Tim was born he was a beautiful and cute little thing that made all conversations at Galas and even and meetings start and flow with ease. People always complimented the bright young boy who could speak as well as a three year old after just turning two and had the cutest little walk in his tiny suit.

When he gets older, Tim understands this and knows that his role is to get deals and funding for his parents.

It’s never out right said, but they always treat him kinda and praise him when he scores them a deal of any kind.

So, he masters it. He learns what people prefer the sweet, endearing little boy and who prefers to see an upcoming business man. He figured out when to talk to a wife over a husband, when to not bother trying or when to be upfront with what he wants so he can get it.

It’s when he’s almost ten, wearing a new suit from a new designer his mother had started to prefer, that one of the older men give him a compliment that just sits wrong to Tim.

It takes him a while to figure it out, and when he does research on it and ends up finding a wiki article on how to tell if someone is attracted to you, he assumes that it’s completely normal. He guess the man thought he was cute like everyone else, but then he reads more.

It’s, quite unsurprisingly, a Reddit post about seduction that tips him off to what the man really wanted from him.

Tim, ever the researcher that he is at heart, properly learns everything he can about sex and seduction and tells himself it’s completely fine for him to do this both because it’s for the family business and he won’t actually have sex. He’s a kid, so they won’t really want him, right?

Of course this is the nativity of the child that he is talking and his still solid trust in humanity keeping him from seeing people for what they really are.

Tim meets Dr Hinders at the next Gala, the man who looked at him like a piece of candy, and gives him a charming little smile and casually touches his forearm like the articles suggested. He plays it off as nothing special outwardly, though he makes sure to leave his eyes lingering on the man’s mouth.

He doesn’t remember much of what actually happened, only entering a car and feeling warm caresses turn harsh and painful.

Tim lays in the man’s bed that night and finds that he hates himself more than the man who used him even as Tim started to push back. He blames himself for not being smarter, for not realising that if he could look at Tim that way, he could do far worse.

But then the man says to Tim, “I think I will endorse your parents, Timothy. You are… quite convincing.”

Tim hears the man’s sickening laugh and hates how success stirs in his gut. Dr Hinders in the lead researching of a project his father had been practically begging to be apart of and now he will.

Jack will be so happy with Tim.

As he is dropped off at home, he runs a icey bath and sobs to himself as he enters. His ass burns as much as his shame, his shoulders ach from where his arms were forced back, yet somehow worst of all is his hip. The hand shaped bruise is giant compared to his own, a brand of sorts to remind him that he handed himself over like a whore.

Yet Tim respects whores, because they need to do it to survive more often than not.

The next day his father picks him up and actually hugs him. Its the first time since he was three that it’s happened and Tim can’t even be in pain from the contact to his aches as he hears his father rant about how proud he is of his son, how he did so well and deserves to go out shopping for a camera.

Tim frowns at the mention of Dr Hinders asking if he could continue to have chats with Tim every now and again yet says yes just to make his father proud.

Janet stared at him all the while with a knowing look, one that screams years of painful experience and burden that she seems to recognise in him.

He pointedly ignores it and goes upstairs.

If Tim this is the result, his father’s love, Tim is going to have to keep doing this.

He just… needs to find a way where it won’t be as painful.

By the time Tim becomes Robin, he’s well known in the elite Gotham circle as ‘bunny’. Find him at an event and play your card right and he’ll come home with you and give you a night you’ll never forget, all you have to do is promise to send some money to his parents or pay for a trip for them.

Most of them pay for trips when they realise that Tim can stay for while nights if they’re away.

He’s eleven when he first goes to a man’s house, already crying silently as he prepped himself, and there’s three others waiting.

He doesn’t even try to back out and upon returning home the next day finds himself holding his head under the iced water a little longer than safe.

Tim doesn’t go through with it and instead goes bat watching.

He tells himself that he’s the one consenting, that it’s okay because he’s doing the seducing, and shoves down the voice that tells him that no amount of temptation should allow anyone older than him to give in to violating a child. He lies to himself about how he prefers it when they are rough and cruel so he can feel better shouting hating them, because the kind touches and longing looks he gets from the ones who let him take the lead make him feel like he is in control, like it could actually be okay, and he knows that it’s not.

It took him a while and soon it will be too late, he’ll be eighteen soon, but he does know that it’s fucked up.

He just ignores that because it makes his dad happy, even after he goes into a coma and remarries.

Somehow he managed to keep it hidden from Bruce for almost five years, but as usual, he finds out.

Tim doesn’t tell him, no he’d never be able to do that.

It’s none other than Dr Hinders.

Bruce host a Gala at the end of summer and winter every year, which is both she he stays relevant and so he doesn’t have to do multiple and not have as much time for Batman.

It’s at one of these Galas that he’s talking with a few men and Dr Hinders says, “You’re a lucky man Bruce, to have Tim with you all the time.”

Bruce smiles proudly as the other two men give each other looks, both knowing full well that Bruce Wayne doesn’t like their kind and probably doesn’t know what Hinders is referring to.

“I am indeed. He’s a smart lad, my Tim. Single handedly raised my company from the ground after my ah, relaxed nature.”

The two men laugh heartily and one manages to make an excuse, abandoning his friend who’s about to shit tears as Hinders leans forward and says, “I’d kill to have him all the time. You know I was his first?”

Bruce is a master of poker faces, he has to be with all the masks he owns in both a literal and metaphorical sense. But his expression still falters for a moment, eyes narrowing as a sick feeling build in his gut.

“What ever do you mean?”

The man besides them stares at the ground in pure fear, knowing that Bruce is one of the most powerful men and he’s been included in the many who took from his financial heir.

Hinders grins a sadistic thing and gives Bruce a look to say ‘oh come on’, “Now, Bruce. Someone had to break him in, teach him the ropes. How else would Jack and Janet get any funding if not for whoring out their son?”

Bruce feels the glass in his hand strain from his tight grip.

“I mean, he definitely had a lot of practice by the time I got to him a second time, but an ass like that comes naturally. Hey, was it you who bought him that red lace? Me and the boys at work still have a photo of him in it up in the lunch room-“

Dr Hinders isn’t ready for the punch Bruce lands on his face, square on his nose with a loud crunch.

A few people turn around and soon everyone is, only to be met with an image of Bruce Wayne that or a cult shows the rage boiling off of him and raining the air with a dangerous aura.

The way he growls is enough to shake the room, somehow worse than Batman’s voice, “everybody get the fuck out of my house.”

Some people get their things calmly and leave, but most hurry like the buildings on fire.

Dick and Damian, the only ones attending that night other than Tim, rush up to him and ask what happened but Bruce is too busy staring at his son across the room.

Tim is frozen, hands cupped to his chest and Bruce knows he heard everything just by the tears in his eyes and how he immediately starts repeating ‘I’m sorry’ over and over and over.

Bruce approaches him quickly but waits for Tim to move into his arms. He wraps his boy up and squeezes him tight, “it’s okay, my sweet. You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise. This isn’t your fault. I’m so sorry I didn’t notice.”

Dick is getting frustrated now, wanting to know what happened to his baby brother, yet when he hears Tim’s response his heart is too busy shattering apart.

“It is! I go to them, I let them fuck me so dad can get his deals! It’s my fault! I shouldn’t have done it in the first place but even then I kept going all for a dad who doesn’t love me. I hate it, I hate it so much but it’s what I’m good for!”

Bruce lets out a sob and moves to look at Tim, “No. No, don’t you dare say that. You are so much more, worth so much more than your body. You are my son, you are Red Robin, you are a brother and a grandson and you are so fucking special. I’m so sorry Tim, I’m sorry you feel that way but it’s okay, I’ll help you. Those men will never touch you again, I swear it.”

Tim breaks down and collapses into his father’s arms, sobbing and wailing years of abuse out.

Dick sobs too but manages to get through it enough to remove Damian from the situation even as the young boys eyes are filled with rage and concern for his brother.

It takes a while, mainly for Tim to chose that he will take the pity and blame from the masses if it means the men who hurt him will pay.

He gives a list to Bruce and cries when he sees that Alfred himself is crying.

If some of the men on that list end up dead in prison and Jason seems a proud of himself, that’s no one’s worry.

Damian refuses to leave Tim’s side for a long time, going with him every where when out in public and not giving up his sword even when the mall security insist he has to.

The photo’s taken of Tim, most of which he wasn’t aware of, only manage to circulate for a few hours before Oracle manages to systematically remove each and every single one with the help of a few hackers and Cyborg.

Duke may also leak to a few of his friends that some of the men are trying to bail out of prison and shouldn’t be welcome in Gotham, and if one of those friends is Cass with a wood plank with nails in it, Kate defiantly didn’t see and help her make it.

[ceaselesswatchersspecialboy]

Working on my Season Five designs, and getting some ideas down!

Additional Notes Below:

Jon’s hair turning white is inspired by Marie Antoinette Syndrome in fiction, which typically involves hair turning white suddenly due to immense stress, which, in this case, the stress stems from his body undergoing an immense change to adapt to the new world before he leaves the Cabin.

Clothing-wise, when he takes off the coat and scarf, he’s wearing an old Mechanisms shirt from college with Martin’s jumper tied around his waist, also wearing ripped jeans, but only because they got torn throughout the domains, and don’t forget the dirty and worn down Converse. Additionally, the earring is Elias’, and he’s had it since season four.

Also not seen here for obvious reasons, but to me, Jon’s voice box after the Cabin Statement is replaced by a tape recorder. If you hear a slight whirring sound, that’s just the equivalent of him purring. This is also where some of the Statement sound effects come from.

As for Martin!

Martin’s white hair gradually worsens over Season Four, but only reaches its state in Season Five after Jon rescues Martin from the Lonely. I like to think he always feels cold to the touch after this, and his fingers always appear frost-bitten — he also tends to breathe mist. And, as depicted here, his eyes go from a warm, darkish brown, to more of an icy colour. I think because he was nearly an avatar, his body had started to prepare for his death/acceptance, and he’s always on the verge of Becoming before the Eyepocalypse.

Him stealing a coat from Peter started off as an internal joke, but I’ve decided to commit to it because it honestly kind of works. He and Jon just love stealing things from LonelyEyes I guess. Part of it is him knowing Peter would hate for his clothes to be passed down to anyone, and he is nothing if not spiteful.

[comicaurora]

I heard you talking on a recent OSPod about Hades, and as someone who very much can get ADHD-yoinked into games, it got me curious, but I'm...not great at video games and have found Dark Souls-y games where you try over and over and keep failing at the same task kind of frustrating. How's your Hades experience been in those regards? (although I'm not sure your general game skill)

Hades feels like it's really carefully designed to circumvent those frustrations.

I also hate the feeling of lost progress, which had me wary about playing a roguelite defined by constantly trying and mostly failing, but by far the most helpful part of the game design is that Zagreus also hates it, so it feels like the game and I are on the same page about it.

It also helps that most of the actual, tangible progress in the game is bound up in advancing the character arcs, which isn't a totally skill-free experience since it involves finding a couple characters out in the underworld, but a lot of it can be done back in the House of Hades, so every time you lose and die you can run around having conversations with everyone, almost all of which will be new and unique and advance your arc with them. If a character doesn't have a new interaction for you, you usually just can't find them on the floor, so there's very little time-wasting.

Speaking of, there's a lot of advancement that can only be done in the House of Hades, and a lot of it involves resources you can actively choose to seek out on runs. I did a couple runs today where my only goal was getting the last of a specific olympian's Boons so I could fill out their Minor Prophecy achievement and reap the rewards, and everything after that was just a bonus. This means the game is passively encouraging the player to develop secondary objectives beyond just making it to the end of the game again. It also helps that making it to the end of the game basically just gives you a weapon-unlocking resource and another small slice of conversation with [EXTREMELY OLD SPOILERS] so while it feels important, and is necessary for advancing towards the true ending of the game, it's not so overwhelmingly rewarding that you feel absolutely crushed when the final boss takes you out halfway through his second healthbar again.

You also benefit very greatly from not playing the game the same way twice - using new weapons or adding new challenge modes is the only way to re-acquire the unique boss rewards for the three main regions of the underworld, instead of the more generic resources that replace the unique ones after you win them for the first time, which means instead of feeling like you need to optimize a winning build and then use it every time, you're encouraged to play with the other weapons that you might find unwieldy or annoying, and if you manage to beat even the first boss with them, you'll be disproportionately rewarded. Also, on every run a random weapon will be empowered to give you bonus resources if you choose to use it, so even if you're a strictly melee-only main you might find yourself willing to figure out how to use the bow in exchange for the extra gems. The Boons you get also dramatically change the strategy you're likely to naturally fall into over the course of fighting your way out - some builds are extremely melee-based, others just boost your ranged abilities to the point that you can mostly just dash around the battlefield while your Casts chew through everyone's healthbar at top speed. So when you reach the final boss, you're not going to be using the same strategies, and even if you lose, it feels less like you had a skill issue and more like you've learned something to look out for or try out next time around. The final boss's strategies and moves don't change either, so you'll know what to expect every time even as your own moveset might be completely different from run to run.

In my personal experience, I have a pretty good feel for when a game is disappointed in my performance. Nothing says "the designers didn't expect you to get stuck here" like endlessly looping dialogue or not-so-subtle hints that you can knock down the difficulty if you need to. Hades has thus far done this to me very little, and only in specific areas - even if I'm no longer getting unique banter with Theseus every time I kick his ass, I'm still having unique conversations with Asterius in the same region and it doesn't feel like I'm anywhere near done with the dialogue back in the House. Zagreus's dialogue when he enters the same three boss arenas will also randomly go from seemingly-interchangeable lines of "yep it's this boss again" to much more unique angles that legitimately change the game from then on. Yesterday, after killing the bone hydra something like a dozen times, he randomly decided to nickname it Lernie, and now he consistently calls it Lernie and every time I kill it the victory banner says "LERNIE VANQUISHED". Today he got Tisiphone to say his name instead of just "murderer" all the time. The game knows you're going to be fighting these guys a lot, and this tells me I haven't outstayed my welcome in the anticipated main timeline of gameplay.

If I have a frustration, it's that I'm not always sure that what I'm doing is advancing the character plotlines, and you can only talk to a character once on any given visit to the House. The game kind of helps you out here, your little information codex will tell you stuff like "Learn more by having X more conversations with this character" or "learn more by deepening your relationship with this character" but it can still be pretty vague and opaque. There's no dialogue trees, Zagreus basically just says what he wants, so when, for instance, Achilles indicates that I should talk to Nyx about maybe getting Orpheus's deal with Hades undone, it's a little frustrating that I can't then go over to Nyx and ask her about that. Or, in fact, ask her about it at all in any of the dozen runs I've done since that nugget got dropped. It's not a game-breaker, but it is a little frustrating. On the other hand, this is clearly intentional, because this means you're tempted to get back into a run as quickly as possible, because then when you die more conversations will have unlocked back at the house - but also, to deincentivize just running out and dying on purpose to get those dialogues going, there are some characters who will only appear in the House if you get far enough into the run to deal with them, and certain characters whose arcs and dialogue only advance if you find and talk to their missing loved ones out on the run. So you'll always have something new back at the House, but you're strongly encouraged to get as far as you can before you die, because the farther you get, the more you'll have to do when you get back.

The game is basically designed to never, ever make you want to sit still. You can quickly exhaust everything there is to do in the house, and that makes you want to go out on a run and see what new things will happen. Then while you're on the run you have the benefit of randomization keeping things interesting and making you make plans for the next time you encounter a given character. It's got a good rhythm to it!

[megaderping]

I feel like when people compare Akechi to Light Yagami, they fundamentally misunderstand his character. Their similarities really end at their designs, and Light is the kind of person Akechi would despise. Light Yagami lives a pretty privileged life at the start of Death Note. He has a stable home, with two parents and a sister who care about him. He's a successful student. There isn't really inherent tragedy to his life. The whole reason he starts using the Death Note is a mix of curiosity and a jaded worldview, and when it works it empowers him, very quickly goes to his head, as he believes he is one who can be a god of a "new world" once the shock of his initial kills wears off. While his first kill was to help someone, that altruism didn't last. He is in charge of his choices, while Ryuk mostly vibes and maybe eggs him on a little. Fundamentally, Light has something Akechi lacks: agency, and a comfortable life he took for granted. Meanwhile, Akechi is someone who lived on the bottom rung of Japanese society. His very existence is shameful there, between his mother being a sex worker, his status as an illegitimate/"throw away" child, and his mother's suicide. Years languishing in a foster system that is notoriously inhumane, in a country where 90% of the adoptions are grown men for inheritance and patriarchal reasons, while very few children in the system find permanent homes. When Akechi awakens his power, he approaches Shido not because he wants to kill people but for a stupid revenge plan cooked up by a traumatized child who's been nudged along by a malevolent god. He wants to build Shido up so that at the height of his power, he can expose him for the monster he really is, while another part of him genuinely wants to be useful to Shido, as Cogkechi later calls out. His feelings are a mess of contradictions, and so it's no surprise that Shido was able to mold him into his assassin at only 15 years old. It's also worth noting that Akechi only approaches Shido with his ability to cause psychotic breakdowns. Shido is the one who teaches and instructs him to do shutdowns. He's still complicit, very sunk cost with his revenge plan, but as I spoke of here, even if he wanted to quit, he couldn't alone. Shido's cleaner and control of the law and ability to effortlessly turn him in would render the Metaverse his only safe haven. I think people look at 11/20 Akechi and Akechi in the early parts of the engine room and assume that's just his "true self," when in reality it's another mask. Royal makes it very clear because in Rank 7, he outright warns Joker of what's to come via a pool metaphor and offers an out (though he's MUCH happier if you don't take it/stick to your principles), and in Rank 8, he goes on that big "I hate you" speech... while Sunset Bridge is playing. Y'know, the song that plays at the end of most confidants to reaffirm bonds. So when he smiles as he shoots what he assumes to be Joker, that doesn't mean he's genuinely happy. More likely, he's an emotional clusterfuck, given he also is disoriented enough to namedrop "Shido-san" over the phone, and in the subsequent meeting with Shido, tells him not to kill the Phantom Thieves and that Morgana is "just a cat." Yes, he says they'll make them fear for the rest of their lives, but remember, he's talking to Shido. The things he says are likely all incredibly calculated to sound appealing to Shido. And when you consider that he planned to utterly destroy Shido's reputation after the election, the "delay" makes even more sense.

Later, Akechi goes on about how the people he induced shutdowns on were deserving of their fates, but I don't think he believes it so much as it's the only way he could convince himself that it was worth it, and given how much society failed him, and given how many of the people he targeted were likely rivals/competitors or rich fucks, I think he'd be less inclined to assume good faith. Kunikazu Okumura was not an innocent little victim, after all. He was one of the people who requested breakdowns and shutdowns the most. I think Akechi enjoyed killing him not because of how it'd hurt Haru, but because of catharsis. Because Okumura is just as monstrous as Shido, so why should he feel remorse? However, I don't believe he feels the same about Wakaba, as when he discusses her with Shido, he mentions how her fate was because she refused to willingly work for him. It's another justification, but I personally think Wakaba's death was the most painful for him because he was effectively making Futaba just like him. That's why I think his reaction to Sae threatening Sojiro's custody was genuine. Anyway, evil grinning Akechi is just another mask, as I said. Keep in mind, this is someone who laments not meeting Joker years ago, someone who Morgana outright points out is lying about his hatred. And that's the thing. Light Yagami, while a really fascinating character, is not someone who had all this childhood suffering or lack of agency. He does not regret his actions in the slightest and goes down due to his own hubris in both the anime and the manga. While you can argue that Ryuk set him up by dropping the Death Note, Light was the one who picked it up and chose to use it. Any nudging from Ryuk didn't coerce Light into doing it because Light seized the opportunity. No, if Light Yagami is like anyone in Persona 5, it's Masayoshi Shido, not Goro Akechi. Both believe they are god/god's chosen, that they are the ones who will reshape the world to their ideals, and to be frank, both use and abuse women to serve their own purposes. Goro Akechi goes down sacrificing himself for the Thieves and pleading with them to stop his father and again in Maruki's reality when he refuses to let Joker accept a gilded prison of a world for his sake when he knows better than anyone what it's like to have no true freedom. If you max his confidant, you see him in the postcredits, leaving his survival entirely possible, and I think it works because at the end of the day, Akechi was meant to be a victim and a foil. Light is a villain protagonist and a cautionary tale. Though its his POV we follow, he isn't someone we're meant to root for, but I definitely don't think enjoying the character is a bad thing at all. He's really interesting! I just think that a lot of the Akechi and Light comparisons are surface level at best.

[seeingivy]

my kink is karma

satoru gojo x f!reader

**loosely based on my kink is karma by chappell roan

an: based on a request from gojo as taylor anon <3 this one is for u

--  

“hi honey bee.” 

you peer over the top of your monitor screen to find satoru gojo, the executive account manager whose murder you’ve been planning for the past few weeks, looming over your desk. his inhumanely long limbs are fixed behind his back, bright ocean blue eyes filled with glee. and you’ve been through this enough times to know exactly what’s going on. 

he’s caught yet another mistake that you’ve made. and he’s here to sick it to you, his favorite worker bee that he likes to irritate. 

satoru gojo is a nicely packaged sewer demon that arrived two months ago, replacing the little old lady who used to occupy the glass office at the center of the workflow. she was kind, a little bit confused here and there, but she got her job done without making a fuss and that was all that mattered to you. she made you blondies for your birthday. 

you didn’t realize how nice you had it until she was replaced with him. because satoru gojo was irritating, prancing in the way he always did – insanely tall and taking up too much space in your peaceful office – with a boisterous laugh, a strange sense of humor, and a tendency to be irritatingly perfect. 

a stitched and tailored suit,  designer perfume, and a sparkling rolex watch on his wrist. a pretty girlfriend that he bragged about at mandatory lunches, a shiny black mercedes, and a penthouse apartment in the center of the city. 

you hate him. you hate how you can feel him scorning at the worn down ballet flats that you wear to work, the vintage watch you snagged from the thrift store, and the narrowed look that he gives to your public transportation card as you tuck it back into your wallet when you walk into the office. 

“are you doing a sales report?” he asks. 

“i’m at my job. where i work in sales marketing. what do you think i’m working on?” 

you watch his eye twitch. the small movements – eye twitches, nose wrinkles, and the turning of his lip – you had been watching them, memorizing what exactly it was that pushed his buttons since he was so keen on doing it first. though, he would never show it upfront, at least not as openly as you do anyways. 

that was one of the nice things about satoru gojo. that he was intelligent and perceptive – enough for him to know that you were maybe the only person in this office who didn’t like him. that you could understand his niceness was masked in arrogance. that you had no intention of kissing his ass like almost everyone else in this office did. 

you loathed his very existence, the stupid jokes he made, and would rather hear nails on a chalkboard than the stories that he recounts from his weekends at his parent’s suburban villa. 

“i love a great sense of humor!” he responds, scooting his long legs over to the side of your desk and hunching over to get a view of your computer. 

he says it with a bright and sparkling smile, but you get the message clear and straight – i’d watch the attitude if i were you. 

the smell of his fancy cologne tickles your nose as he leans over, his face nearly cheek to cheek with yours as he places a little manila folder in front of you. you heave a sigh, opening it up to your sales reports from the last week, each one laminated and with a dark red mark in the center. 

“been looking over your reports. you’re getting a little sloppy with your math.” 

you scoff. 

“is that right?” you ask. 

“uh huh. just make sure you count your decimal points and your zeroes when you turn in this one. i know it can be a little hard sometimes, big numbers and all.” 

you bite down on your cheek, feeling the metallic taste of blood in your mouth. did he always have to be so patronizing? 

“now why would i do that? i’d put you out of a job if i did.” 

satoru clicks his tongue in cheek – one of the clear cut signs that you’ve hit one of his exposed nerves. that he’s a glorified calculator sitting in a fancy glass office with an arbitrary executive title slapped next to his name. 

satoru gojo hates that you always seem to make that point every time he corrects you. and you’ll take any chance to remind him. that he doesn’t do anything worthwhile. that he’s a pretty face and just that – nothing substantial underneath. 

“luckily for me, you’ve proven that you’ll be incompetent until the end. as long as you’re here, it seems that i will be too. i’d get back to it if i were you, honey bee.” he responds, the tone in his voice scathing as he walks back to his office, a glimmering plastic smile pressed to his face. 

--

you have mandatory team building lunches on fridays at twelve thirty. it’s one of the things that you appreciate – that you don’t have to wake up early to put together a lunch from the leftovers in your fridge. 

you cycle through every person in the office, rotating on picking up lunch that accommodates the budget and everyone’s dietary requests, and break bread to get closer to one another. satoru, naturally, goes over budget every time it’s his turn, and insists that it’s no problem – though he always seems to slightly mess up your order, while everyone else’s comes out perfectly. 

and on the days where he isn’t choosing the lunch, he’s so irritating – complaining of a sensitive stomach – and instead brings a nicely packaged lunch that his private chef makes for him every morning.. three courses, always packed with a dessert. 

one time you asked him if the chef wrote him little supportive notes in his lunchbox. you would be lying if you said it didn’t fill you with pride, that the small comment you made was enough to fill him with irritation for the rest of the work day. 

“what are your christmas plans, satoru?” 

you look over at your fellow sales associate, yuuji, and share a smirk with him. the two of you lean back, nursing your little sandwiches from the deli two miles down in your hands as you start the mental counter in your head. 

every day before lunch, you and yuuji make a shot counter of things that you expect gojo to say during team building. common phrases that fall out of his mouth like back at the villa, my custom tailor shop, and louis vuitton – the normal trust fund baby vocabulary, naturally – somehow always make their way into the conversation. 

you drink shots accordingly at happy hour after work. whoever’s word has the higher count has to pay for the entire night. 

your poison for today was private jet. yuuji’s was timeshare. 

“anne marie and i are heading over to her family’s timeshare in bali. they have a property over there – full pool, private beach and all.” 

yuuji snorts. you roll your eyes. 

“a private beach?” nanami asks, eyes raised as he neatly picks the tomatoes out of his sandwich and hands them over to shoko at his side. 

“a private beach, indeed. it’s right on the coast, equipped with boats for excursions and stuff like that. the timeshare comes set with all of those.” he states. 

“excursions.” you repeat, giving yuuji a wide eyed look as he fights the urge to laugh. 

satoru looks over at you, a clear distaste in his eyes, as he leans back in his chair, legs spread wide. 

“what are you doing for your vacation, y/n?” satoru asks. 

“i’m going home with yuuji for a few days.” you state. 

“right. that sounds exciting!” he states. 

you can hear the message laced in that one too – a clear and pointed diss that he’s going to be spending his time at a resort with his skinny legged model girlfriend and you’re going to be going home with the one gay guy that works at your office and get drunk in the bar in your hometown. 

“which airline are you taking?” satoru asks. 

you grin. 

“delta.” 

“never been. i use my private jet to get around.” 

you give him an exaggerated gasp. 

“a private jet? tell me all about it.” 

you’ve goaded him right into your trap – as satoru then says the word private jet a total of seventeen times, defeating the measly eight times he said timeshare – and delight in the fact that you’ll at least get to have a nice night out. 

--

on the first tuesday back from break, freshly minted into five days of the new year, your co-worker katie shakes your shoulder aggressively ten minutes into your shift. you note that four days into the week, satoru has yet to return to the office and you hope that it’s not just good luck – that maybe he fell off of his duffy boat in bali and lost all his memory, rendered incapable of ever returning to the office again. 

you pray that your new boss isn’t as much of an asshole as him. 

you look up to find katie’s eyes wide, an excited smile on her face, as she leans down into your space. katie is one of the few friends that you have in the office, the third person who finds satoru and his antics irritating. 

“did you hear about gojo?” she asks. 

“every thing i know about that man is against my will.” you deadpan. 

she giggles, leaning down to whisper. 

“oh my fucking god. come here. you’re going to love this.” 

she stands up, scanning the room, as she gestures for you to stand up, the two of you making your way over to the break room. you can’t talk so freely about him when his little lackey’s are still lingering around, who will most definitely tell him that the two of you were gossipipng. 

and god knows that would only make his head bigger – knowing that everyone talked about him even when he wasn’t there. katie strides into the room, taking residence over the coffee machine and shooting nanami a polite smile, as she starts absentmindedly brewing a cup of coffee. 

“he’s losing it.” 

“who?” 

“satoru. he’s going fucking crazy apparently.” 

you snort. as if. satoru’s definition of going crazy would be mixing and matching different designer brands – like wearing a gucci watch with a louis vuitton tie. 

“turns out that his glamorous vacation to bali with that raggedy anne doll never happened. she had a whole meltdown and broke up with him after his credit card got declined at a restaurant they went to a few days before the trip.” 

you nearly choke on your spit. 

“what?” 

“apparently it was just a fluke, his card got momentarily blocked since he bought some new car. but she literally freaked out on him and left him stranded.” 

you snort. 

“there’s no way.” 

“she told him that it was unacceptable. that she had enough.” 

“well, i’ll say. she milked an entire designer wardrobe out of him.” you whisper, earning you a giggle from katie. 

“i know! anyways, sharon from hr told me that he’s taken the past four days off because he doesn’t have transportation – he fucking crashed the mercedes when he was driving home from the breakup.” 

“you’re fucking kidding. the g-wagon?” 

“i swear to god.” 

it feels a little mean, but you can’t help but delight in all of it. 

that despite it all, karma’s real. and it’s finally satoru fucking gojo’s turn. six months of patronizing comments and arrogance has finally caught up with him. his pretty girlfriend is just that – a pretty girl who wanted to do nothing with him. the car he brags about has been demolished and at the very least his larger than life ego has taken some type of hti. 

“oh, look, look.” 

katie shakes your arm, the two of you peering through the glass window to see satoru climb out of the bus – the same bus that you take to work everyday to save money – with what you can tell from here is an unironed suit and messy hair. his tie isn’t even done properly. 

and when he walks in, all you smell is the fancy cologne, with the faintest hints of tequila lingering behind. a smell that you only catch, because it’s one that you’ve drowned out on a bad day. 

you and yuuji pick horrendous words for lunch – yours being luxury brand and yuuji’s being private chef – and much to your dismay, he says neither. he actually doesn’t say anything. just sulks in the corner and disappears as soon as he finishes the tacos. 

you leave a mistake in your sales report. he doesn’t even catch it. 

--

“can you close out my tab, toji?” 

toji, the bartender who’s well aware of your antics – and perhaps even more upset than you are that your hoity toity boss didn’t play along well with your game today – gives him a nod, wiping his hands with the towel as he looks over at you. 

“you too, doll?” 

“no, i’ll have another before i head out.” you state. 

he gives you a nod, shuffling off to the side to get yuuji’s bill, as you slump down on the bar, yuuji mimicking your motions as you both lean your heads against one anothers. and he leaves just as fast, pressing a loving kiss to the top of your head as you swirl the little ice cubes in your drink as you watch the bubbles fizz out. 

“rough day, y/n?” 

you shrug. 

“same old – can’t really complain. you?” 

toji smiles. 

“you see that guy over there, at the end of the bar? this is the third day that he’s drank up my entire supply of tequila.” 

you follow the line of his vision to see satoru – the satoru gojo slumming it in this rather disgusting bar, at least for his standards – his tie messy and the buttons of his shirt loosely undone sitting at the bar. 

“him?” 

“uh huh. broke up with like the only girl he’s ever dated, apparently. whoever she is, thank her fucking ass. he tips well over.” toji murmurs, giving you a smile as he rearranges the glasses. 

you give toji a weary smile, pressing the cash down on the bar, as you make your way over – noting that tequila smell is not masked at all this time – as you slide into the seat next to him, tapping on your shoulder. and he looks over, the rims of his eyes red and eyes squinting as he leans forward.  

“honey bee?” he slurs. 

the smell is overwhelming. 

“the one and only.” you respond. 

you reach forward, sliding the little shot glass out of his hand and placing it behind the bar. you turn back to find that his hair is messy, whatever mousse that he’s used to style it has clearly run fraught, and his cheeks flushed pink. 

“that’s enough for one night, gojo. let’s get you home, yeah?” 

“huh?” 

“home. the place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or a household?” 

he glares. 

“i know what a home is.” he deadpans. 

“perfect! let’s get you to yours.” you respond. 

satoru turns over to you, blue eyes weary, before he shrugs and slumps down onto the bar. you roll your eyes, scooting your chair closer as you pull up your phone. 

“i’ll do you a liberty. i know you’re probably morally opposed to taxis, so i’ll call you an uber. what’s your address?” 

satoru reaches up, his fingertips brushing your wrist, as he snatches your phone and places it flat on the bar. 

“no thank you.” 

“toji will kick you out, you know. and he doesn’t even know you like that, he’ll probably be really mean since he has a wife to get back home to and all.” 

satoru snorts. 

“then i’ll just go to another bar. i’m not going home.” 

you groan, noting that of course he was going to be stubborn about this too, and that whatever it was in your chest – pity, you suppose – was making you so insistent on making sure he didn’t die from alcohol poisoning tonight. 

“what’s so bad about your pretty penthouse?” you ask. 

he huffs a sigh. 

“there’s pictures of anne marie everywhere. and i fucking hate that bitch.” 

you snort, hearing such choice words about the barbie doll that you never had the pleasure of meeting, as you hop off the stool. you figured he was going to be more of the emotional drunk – crying and whining – rather than cursing her very existence. 

“okay, c’mon. i know somewhere you can go.” 

--

you feel bad for him as the night goes on. because he’s so drunk that he’s sobbing the entire drive back to your apartment, a horrendous mix of drunk ramblings about how honda civics are actually nicer than he expected and how he didn’t even know that this part of the city existed. your previous thoughts about emotional drunks were completely revoked. 

he leans his entire weight on you as you drag him into the elevator, plopping him down on the couch, as you task yourself with making him a green smoothie before letting him pass out into the abyss. it’ll help with the raging hangover you’re positive that he’s going to have tomorrow – and you hope that it means he’ll spare you some kindness the following morning, for saving him from his imminent death and all. 

you change into your comfy pajamas as the smoothie blends – a loose old dartmouth t-shirt and shorts – and pour it into a glass. you take a deep breath, bracing yourself, as you make your way back to the couch where satoru’s peeled his sport jacket off and unbuttoned his shirt nearly halfway down. you make it a point to not ogle his perfectly chiseled body. 

“alright, satoru. this will help with your hangover tomorrow, just drink it really fast because it tastes horrible.” you state. 

satoru looks over at you, completely unfazed by the green drink you hand him, and decides that he’s very shamelessly going to check you out. you can see it in his eyes – the way they follow your bare legs and your mismatched socks, before he looks back up at you and frowns. 

“am i that fucking pathetic that you’re helping me?” he asks. 

you grin. 

“yes.” you respond. 

satoru appreciates the honesty, gulping down the thick and tart smoothie that you made him, and slams the glass down on the coffee table after the fact. he wipes the residue on the back of his hand and shrinks into the couch – and you can’t help but shiver at how normal he looks. 

it’s the first time that you’ve understood it, why everyone thinks he’s so attractive. he has soft and full cheeks, striking blue eyes that go perfectly with his snow white hair. a few freckles dot his nose. 

“well, let’s hear it. make all the fun you fucking want.” satoru murmurs. 

you roll your eyes. 

“do you think i’m a bitch? i don’t kick people when they’re down. something you’re wholly unfamiliar with, i’m well aware.” 

“you have no problem doing it in the office.” he states. 

you scoff. 

“you always start it. you can’t really get mad when i start dishing it back. and i’m a little bit better than you. i won’t make comments about you now that pretty malibu barbie’s broken your heart now because i have a shred of decency.” 

satoru scoffs. 

“you’ll just do it tomorrow, when i’m keen enough to fight back .” he states. 

you sigh, leaning back on the couch, as you look up at the wallpaper pressed to the ceiling. it’s slightly peeling and you make a mental note to replace it when you get the time – which knowing you, you probably never will. 

he was impossible. 

when you look over at him, his eyes fixed to the peeling wallpaper too, but with glimmering tears sprinkling out of his eyes, though they’re slower and quieter than the sobs that he was heaving in the car. you wonder how much he really had to drink. 

“you need to replace your wallpaper. it’s coming off.” satoru seethes. 

“okay.” you respond. 

you look back at the ceiling. you could give him some advice too. 

“you should stop dating gold diggers.” you state. 

he rolls his eyes. 

“how was i supposed to know she was a gold digger?” he asks. 

you laugh. 

“it’s not normal to buy your girlfriend’s entire wardrobe. and her car. and her..”

“okay, okay, okay. it was a gift!” he defends. 

“you know, normal people get a giftcard and call it a day. or a candle from target.” you respond. 

there’s a whisper of a smile on satoru’s face as he sighs, before pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“okay, well. i was trying to be sweet. her love language was giving gifts.” 

you snort. 

“shocker.” you deadpan. 

he reaches for the closest cushion, before smacking it straight across your chest. you’re quick to snatch it from his hands, holding it close to your chest, as the two of you stick back to the silence. 

“so what do i do?” he asks. 

“what do you mean?” 

“i dunno. never done a break up before. she was like my first girlfriend.” 

you would understand it. you would, you suppose, if that was something you could relate to. being so in love that you can’t be with anyone else. but then again, that lingering question would always come back to you – how could you know that this person was the one if you hadn’t tried anything else? 

in your very limited experience in your very short life, one thing always rang true – that the more time you took to learn, to experience, the better things seemed to get. you had a bunch of shit friends in high school and now you’re friends with yuuji. you had four different majors before you picked marketing because it let you be creative. you’ve dated four different guys but you’re still looking for the one. 

that’s why you didn’t understand it – how people could be so one and done, on something so serious. granted, that’s probably how they end up with gold diggers. 

“do you have anything of hers?” you ask. 

satoru gives you a strange look, before digging his hand in his pocket, and fishing out his wallet. he opens up the little zipper, yanking a little silver necklace out of the leather, and placing it into the palm of your hand. 

you feel your eyes widen a little bit, sparkling diamonds set in a little circular mother of pearl design, as you run your fingers over it. you shake yourself out of it, looking over at him resting his forearms against his knees, expectantly waiting for an answer. 

“real cute. go throw it out of my window.” you state, handing it back to him. 

“i beg your pardon?” 

“so a window is an opening in the wall or roof that…” you start. 

he lightly shoves you, before clutching the necklace in his fist. 

“i can’t throw it out. it’s fucking expensive.” 

you roll your eyes. 

“that means nothing to you. you’re not throwing it away because you still like raggedy anne.” 

“raggedy anne?” he asks. 

“yuuji, katie, and i call her that. red hair kind of set that one up for us but…” 

his eyes widen, as he leans forward. 

“do you guys not like her?” he asks. 

you shrug, as you stand up, wrapping your fingers around his wrist as you pull him closer to the window. the question catches you off guard – that he would care what the three of you would think. 

you peek your head out the window –  a few cars still milling on the street, the lights lazily changing, as he joins you and sticks his head out the window. 

“i can’t, honey bee.” he states. 

“yes, you can. it’s just a necklace.” 

“but what if she wants it back?” he asks. 

you fight the urge to slap him, as you stick your head back into the warmth of the apartment. he follows suit. 

“you would go back to her?” you ask. 

“i dunno. i –” 

“she would probably only want to get back together so she can get this fucking necklace back. because she’s a gold digger! screw her, surely you could do better than that!” 

satoru frowns, as he peaks out of the window again. and he makes the motion like he’s going to throw it before he looks back at you, nervously scratching at the back of his neck. 

“it’s limited edition. maybe i should sell it and –” 

“no. you’re going to throw it out of the window right now, on the count of three.” 

“i really don’t want to. we should do something easier first.” he whines.

“one.” you state. 

he panics. surely he couldn’t be serious. 

“this can’t be how normal people cope. i could hit someone and give them a black eye..” 

“two.” you scold. 

“maybe i don’t want to be a normal person. i think that this is all –” 

“three.” 

you snatch the necklace out of his open palm and throw it straight out of the window. it makes a little clinking sound when it finally hits the bottom, the two of you poking your heads out of the window to now see it tangled in the sewage gutter that’s been dirtied by the recent rain. 

“you threw her necklace.” satoru states, in exasperation. 

“when normal people can’t do it on their own, a trusted friend does it to keep them in line.” you state, pushing back into the apartment and wiping your hands. 

satoru follows behind you, his steps featherlike, as you reach for his phone and start scrolling through the contacts. he’s leaning his head over your shoulder, eyes wide as you pull up anne marie’s contact and hold it out to him. 

“you’re going to make me block her too?” he asks. 

“no. you should call her once and say some mean stuff and then block her.” 

satoru’s eyes widen. 

“mean stuff?” 

“call her. tell her she’s a gold digger. that you think her voice is annoying or something.” you add. 

satoru crosses his hands over his chest. 

“that’s not very mature.” 

“okay, but you’re back in dog years since you’ve been dating this girl forever. plus, i’d say it’s immature to be in a god knows how long relationship with someone just for their money. does she have any consideration for you?” 

satoru pauses, like he’s mulling the thought over. 

“if you don’t do it, you’re going to become even more weird and repressed than you are now.” you state 

“i’m not repressed!” he whines. 

“be immature! say a bunch of bullshit and then hang up! you’ll feel great – you…you’re supposed to do these types of things at least once. this is like a rite of passage.” 

satoru gives you a weary look as you lean forward, pressing the dial button. his eyes go wide as you start whispering, gesturing for him to do it. 

“hello? satoru?” anne marie says, voice confused.

there’s a considerable amount of sound behind the speaker, loud booming music making it very clear that raggedy anne is at the club while satoru’s moping it out in your apartment. 

“do it.” you whisper. 

“hi annie.” satoru murmurs. 

you roll your eyes at the nickname. 

“did you want something satoru?” she asks. 

“yeah. yeah, i just wanted to say…” satoru starts. 

“hold on one second.” she says. 

there’s a murmuring over the speaker, which she’s clearly covered, as you start whispering. tell her she’s annoying! she won’t even give you the time of day on a phone call!! 

“sorry, i’m back. i’m on a date right now so i was just trying to slip away.” 

satoru looks up at you. 

“you’re a bitch.” he murmurs. 

you fight the urge to laugh. 

“what did you say?” anne marie responds. 

“you’re a bitch.” he says louder. 

“good! say it again!” you whisper. 

satoru has the whisper of a smile on his face, the silent support goading him on, as he keeps talking. 

“you…you’re annoying. you have a really high pitched voice and every time you wake up in the morning, it gives me an ear splitting headache. and you…you look horrible in blue.”  

the choice of words is a little middle school, but you’ll give it to him. there was a first time for everything. 

“say something else.” you whisper. 

“is that a girl?” anne marie asks.

you both widen your eyes, before satoru quickly hangs up and start laughing. you note that for your standards that was horrendously tame, but the glint in his eyes seems to signify that it’s at least done something for him, because it’s the first time he properly smiles after entering your apartment. 

“how was that?” 

“fucking great! she sounded like an idiot!” he responds. 

“she sure did.” 

“now she’s probably wondering which girl i’m with and working herself over it.” he responds. 

you shake your head, pulling out the sheets to make the fold out bed for him properly, before you make your way back over to your own room. screaming middle school insults seems to sober him up enough, because he joins you in folding the sheets, a smile on his face. 

“have you done that before?” he asks. 

“done what?” you ask. 

“throw stuff out like that? call an ex-boyfriend?” 

you smile. 

“mhm. my first boyfriend irritated me so bad that i took everything he ever gave me – a dried up bouquet of flowers, a necklace, birthday cards and all that type of stuff – and threw it in a trash can outside of the bank i go to. and the calling, i did that once when my ex-boyfriend decided to go to san diego for a trip instead of meeting up with me. he made it pretty clear for a week that we were going to break up on that day and i had hyped myself up for it, just for him to not show up. so i got pissed and called him then and there.” you state. 

satoru’s floored.

“really? that’s such a dick move.” 

“i mean, s’pretty standard.” 

you’ve been on the carousel of assholes your entire life. but satoru shakes his head. 

“i can’t believe someone would even do that. that’s unusually cruel.” 

you forgot about that part. that with having experienced next to nothing, there’s a sense of naivety that comes with it too. 

or hope. whichever word speaks to you more – and at the current moment, it’s the latter, only because he seems so genuinely downtrodden by it – so genuinely believing that people are meant to be good and kind that he can’t fathom someone being mean and selfish just for the sake of it. 

you feel bad for him. 

“that it is. almost as cruel as dating someone just for their money.” you respond. 

satoru sighs. 

“yeah.” 

“that’s kind of the cool part now.” you respond. 

“what is?” 

you sit down flat on the bed, the sheets nicely tucked in and folded, as you pat the little spot next to you on the bed. he obliges, his legs stretching out a considerable distance past yours, as you cross your arms over your chest. 

“this is going to sound really weird, but some day you’re going to agree with me.” you state. 

“okay.” 

“you’re going to feel a lot of things in the next few months. and then after the fact, when you’re really truly over it, you’re going to realize how real all of that was.” 

“meaning?” 

you shrug. 

“you’re going to mope and listen to sad songs for a while. and those songs are going to hit like they’ve never hit before, you’re going to realize people have been writing about this exact feeling that you’re experiencing for years. you’ve just gone through a shared experience that almost everyone has, no matter who they are, of getting your heart shattered.” 

satoru’s never thought of it that way. granted, he’s only been thinking about it for three days, but still. 

“then you’re going to be pissed. you’re going to do a bunch of stupid stuff and you might even regret it a little bit, but that’s part of learning more about yourself. maybe you really do like to have the last word. maybe you can’t fathom it at all, seeing that person ever again. either way, you’re going to figure out something about yourself and it’s going to make it all the more worth it. that’s part of this entire thing – experiencing something new, doing things three, four, five times and fucking up each time, just to…get something out of it. figure out whatever you’ve got going on in this thing.” you respond, flicking at his forehead. 

satoru rubs the spot, glaring at you, as you shoot him a smile. 

“there’s no point in doing anything once. you’re going to live a really long life, were you really only going to date and love one girl the entire time? i know you must have more to give than that.” you state. 

“do you not believe in marriage?” he asks. 

you frown. 

“who said i don’t believe in marriage?” 

“i mean, you seem like so…hippie dippie. i get what you’re saying and…and i’m even inclined to believe you’re right…but where does that stop? you can’t go on experiencing things and people and loving forever?” 

you smile. 

“why do you think so little of marriage? do you really think all of that stops once you enter a relationship with someone?” 

satoru freezes. 

“you keep doing that stuff, but with the person you know is meant for you. clearly your relationship with raggedy anne must have been really, very boring, because getting to do new things together is the fun part. i’d argue that it’s even the point of even being together – growing into something new.” 

satoru thinks you're wise. he thinks that he’s still leftover drunk and whatever it is you’re saying is coming out like poetry to him, that it’s singing to the tune that’s been going on in the background of his head for the past year, because really – his relationship was very boring. 

it had gotten monotonous. maybe he stayed because he didn’t know anything different. maybe that’s why he was so obsessed with stalking your every move – making sly comments, finding mistakes in your reports - just because you were always so keen to give him a different answer, one he couldn’t predict, the only constant thing about you being that you were always different. 

“your brain looks like it’s working overtime. you should go to bed.” you state. 

“okay, yeah.” 

satoru is still drunk. somewhat drunk. maybe a little. 

it’s why he leans forward, to press a warm kiss to the side of your cheek. he notes that your eyes go wide, as you immediately lift your hand to press your fingers to the skin, your cheeks flushing pink. 

“i was hoping you were going to give me like a thousand dollars or something as a gift for being nice to you.” 

satoru grins. because again, it wasn’t the answer he was expecting at all. 

“i could do that too.” he states. 

you roll your eyes, before reaching forward to pinch his cheek. 

“shut up.” 

“you’re pretty.” 

you’re taken aback by the comment, leaning back to cross your hands over your chest, as you eye him again. messy hair, swollen eyes, and pink lips from the drinks. 

“you’re not that bad either. you look way better like this.” 

“like this?” 

“you know…no fancy mousse. creepy perfectly tailored suit. having a proper meltdown and all. not to be rude, but your distress might be the best thing that’s ever happened to you.” 

satoru scoffs. 

“you’re just jealous that i look so great all the time.” 

you shake your head. 

“not at all. i’m not into that at all – the whole perfect, rich boy thing.” 

satoru leans forward, eyes wide. 

“what are you into?” he asks. 

you smile. 

“did you really crash your car?” you ask. 

he groans. 

“you know about that?” 

you laugh. 

“i’m into that. you being a real person. i think you’re very funny when you’re drunk and you have the insults of a middle schooler. your hair looks very good when it’s all messed up like this and your very genuine enthusiasm and curiosity is very refreshing.” 

“yeah?” satoru whispers, a glint in his eyes. 

“mhm. don’t lose sleep over it, okay?” you respond, pinching his cheek as you shuffle your way over to your room. 

satoru watches as you retreat, your mismatched socks riding up to your ankles, and he can’t help but wonder if you’re right. if he had missed out. 

he hadn’t done anything. anything at all. you were three feet away – with an entire life he knew nothing about. the little scars on your arms were all a story, maybe from pulling something out of the stove too fast or falling on the pavement, and he can’t help but wonder what it all was. 

if he could still gain it all, after years of falling behind. 

satoru was always an overachiever. he was going to do this, he was going to do this now. 

satoru stands up, legs carrying him to the door of your bedroom, as he firmly knocks on the wood. he hears something that sounds like a thud, before you swing the door open, your eyes adjusting to the brightness outside to find him standing there. 

“it’s been one minute.” you deadpan. 

“can i sleep with you?” 

“i beg your pardon?” 

satoru sighs. 

“i’ve never slept in the same bed as someone.” 

“huh? you and raggedy anne never…” 

he shakes his head. 

“i mean, like once, but it was by accident. my penthouse has two beds and i don’t know what it feels like to…sleep next to someone.” 

you pause. and let your curiosity get the better of you. 

“are you a virgin?” 

“i am not a virgin.” 

you laugh at the irritation in his voice, before holding the door open wider and gesturing for him to walk into the room. 

“my bed isn’t that big.” you state. 

“that’s okay. just…please? let me?” 

you assume that saying no would be equivalent to kicking a dog while it’s down. it’s what you reason to yourself as you let him in, watching as he giggles at your stuffed animals and your glasses in the nightstand before he wraps his arms around you, his embrace warm around you. 

you swear he kisses your hairline. 

“did you just kiss me again?” 

“hey. i’m experiencing new things. i’ve got tons of places i have to kiss you on my list.” 

you snort.

“you’re bold.” you state. 

“and you’re really very sweet. i really like you, you know that?” 

you roll your eyes, before leaning back into his touch. it’s so innocent, so unlike any other guy you’ve talked too – so excited about kissing you on the top of your head. 

maybe it’s a little bit less pity than you anticipated. 

“do you ever think i could do that?” he asks. 

“do what?” 

“what you’re talking about? doing things four, five, six times…growing with someone and all that?” he asks. 

you sigh, before placing one of your hands over his. 

“yes, satoru. of course you can.” 

--

the following monday, you’re greeted by a little box on your desk. you open it up to a giftcard and four target candles, accompanied with a little note and his horrible chicken scratch handwriting. 

honey bee,  heard normal people give gift cards and candles as gifts. but i’m indecisive so there’s four candles. also, they’re custom made and really expensive so don’t throw them out to sass me or make a point or something :O  satoru 

and you see him an hour later, a cup of the cheap office coffee in his hand, as he walks around talking to everyone in the office. his tie is a little bit loose and his hair is unstyled – and you think that it’s interesting, that he had taken what you had said to heart. and your previous thought stands. 

that he really does look better this way. 

he makes his way over after twenty minutes, leaning down and basically pressing his cheek to yours as he looks at your monitor. 

“did you check your math?” he asks. 

“do you want me to shove a pencil down your throat?” you ask. 

satoru laughs and you can’t help but smile. 

“did you like my gift?” 

“yes. but i have a few notes.” 

satoru stands up properly, leaning against your desk with his hands crossed over his chest, as he gestures for you to talk. 

“do tell.” 

“when i say candle, i really do mean one candle. and you know, i meant like an eight dollar candle. like the shit ones that give you allergies.” 

“candles can give you allergies?” 

“i get watery eyes when they aren’t soy or natural.” you state.

“noted. what else?” 

“when i say gift card, i mean twenty bucks. not two thousand dollars.” 

satoru whines. 

“so many rules. you’re so high maintenance, honey bee.” he whines, cupping your chin in his hand and squeezing once, before shuffling back to his office. 

--

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