#i need him to be okay. for my own catharsis

[hermanunworthy]

i need normal oak to receive a thousand million hugs and kisses okay . capiche???

[eowynstwin]

i’m drooling at ur older bf price (not much else to say except when/if u ever have more thots abt him please share 🙏)

previous

You curl in on yourself after sex, sometimes. It’s a pattern Price has noticed—you’ll finish, then he will, and in the humid moments after, the shutters in your eyes will close. You won’t meet his gaze.

He’s only asked once about it, and it had been so clear that the question disturbed you that he hadn’t pressed. You’d tell him, he reasoned, when you were ready—

(And he could nudge you in that direction in the meanwhile.)

The sink is put back together, cabinet door closed. Your sundress is wrapped and twisted around your midsection, naked breasts wet with his saliva and compressed against his chest as you lay panting on top of him. His shirt is in some far-off corner, thrown aside, and his jeans are around his knees.

“That was nice,” he murmurs in your ear, kissing your hair. He makes a home for his fingertips between your shoulder blades, walking the trail of your spine, up and down, slow as a tide.

“Mm-hm,” you say, out at sea. Far away.

He can’t deny that it disappoints him. But it isn’t about him, and he shouldn’t make it so. Even if it is about him, it isn’t actually about him—it’s about something else that has attached itself to him. Things are like that more often than not—deeper, older problems with hooks, the barbed kind that sink in and cling and won’t come out of their own accord.

So he keeps kissing your hair, and he keeps stroking your back. His softened cock hasn’t slipped from you yet, and he makes no move to dislodge it. You nestle closer to him; shift your body over his, a little, just for the feeling of it. He waits for the sigh—the long, steady breath you take after the act, after you’ve found yourself again in wherever it is you go after moments like this.

“This is probably weird to talk about after sex,” you say, and Price’s ears perk up.

“Nothing weird between us, dove,” he encourages. “What’s on your mind?”

You play with his chest hair a little, twirling it around with the manicured ends of your nails. (A manicure he happily paid for.)

“You’re the first man who’s ever given a damn about me,” you mumble into his neck.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he says honestly. He kisses you again, because he wants to, and because he wants it to comfort you.

“You don’t make me feel stupid for not being able to do stuff on my own,” you continue. “My step—my mom’s husband. He used to make fun of me for, for getting confused about changing my car’s oil. Or he’d get annoyed at me. Or I’d need him to change my tires because I can’t do it on my own, and I’d call him for help, and he wouldn’t pick up the phone.”

“He sounds like a piece of work,” Price comments.

A younger version of himself would have offered to beat the shit out of the asshole. That self’s anger on your behalf sits radioactive in his chest even now—corrosive, roiling, righteous fury, ready to carve your name on whatever offal is left over after Price gets through with him.

But that would be for his own ego, not for you. That has no place here.

“Do you know—” and your voice breaks a little, “do you know how bad it feels when a man who’s supposed to look out for you treats you like you’re an idiot? Like you’re not smart enough to be worth helping?”

“Some,” he says. “It’s an awful feeling. I wish you didn’t know how it felt, dove. I’m sorry.”

He feels something warm and wet drip onto his chest, and your shoulders begin to shake.

It’s not the full-body, wracking cry of catharsis. Just an episode of something longer, something tired. A problem dealt with, over and over again—a wound that reopens sometimes, if it’s pulled the wrong way.

Price gathers you closer, wraps his arms around you tighter. He cups the back of your neck with one hand and murmurs “shhh” into your hair, soothing and quiet, squeezing you against him.

“I’m okay,” you say, a little watery. “Really, I am.”

“I know you are,” he says.

He tilts your face toward his, and kisses the center of your forehead. You meet his eyes with your own, wide and glistening with your tears.

“I’m always gonna help you, dove,” he promises, catching one that falls with the edge of his thumb. “And you can always ask.”

-

No I don’t have daddy issues why do you ask

[remushrts]

evan or barty comforting the reader after they hear someone talking about them??

Catharsis

��� pairing: barty crouch jr x reader

— a/n: hii, thank you for the request!! you didn't specify if you wanted that platonic or romantic, so it can be read either way! also i chose barty because this is a little self indulging and i took it in a bit of an other direction, hope it's okay anyway

— warnings: inciting violence (because it's barty), reader (literally) breaks a tv (don't try this at home please), not proof read

When the bedroom door unlocks with a soft click, you don't know who you'd expect to enter, but definitely, it was not Barty. He walks over to you, eyes falling to your watery ones as he gives you a smile, only a bit softer than usual. "So, who do I need to beat?" He asks, sitting on the floor by your side without a care in the world.

"Nobody." You sniff, chuckling softly. "Good to know you're up for it though."

"Yeah, hell I am." You can tell his a bit stiffer too, he's not used to the whole thing, you think. Comforting people, being gentle with them, it was never Barty's strength. "Wanna talk about it? Or smash a tv?" You frown, his offer is tempting, but strange.

"Whose tv?" You ask, laughing softly. The sound is almost a huff, the only hint of humor in the soft curls of your lips.

"Don't worry about it." He smirks, propping himself up on his feet and holding out a hand for you, his eyes exhibiting a dangerous glint to them. "So, you wanna smash a tv? We can find the fucker's house too if you feel like breaking a window."

And yeah, maybe you do.

For Barty's credit, he did tell you you could break a tv. Still, you're a bit surprised as he walks you to his backyard and a full television stands on two bricks, looking brand new except from a few scratches on the led screen. Barty smirks at your reaction. "It's like a rage room, but I don't have a room to worry about cleaning up after." He explains, picking a bat from the floor and swirling it lazily, pretending to hit an invisible ball.

"Did you steal this?" You can't help but ask. Following after him, you can't help but notice the glass shards and wood splinters littering the floor, as well as a few bottle necks here and there.

"Of course not!" He feigns offense like the worst actor in the world. "It was on Evan's flat when he moved, but it's broken. Also, it reeks of beer, he thinks the bastard that owned it dumped a few cans on it and it broke down. He said it's not worth fixing, thus this baby sitting on my yard."

You only nod. Breaking a tv with Barty was not how you imagined your day would end, but you were not one to complain. At least you weren't crying yourself to sleep in your room.

"So, what's it gonna be, princess?" You open your mouth to ask what he's talking about, only to see him holding out the baseball bat and another brick on his hands. "Choose your weapon." You pick the baseball bat, and he handles you a pair of safety googles, to which you raise a brown. "What? I'm not an animal." As soon as you've secured the googles on your eyes, Barty lowers his own. "To who do we own the honor?"

You know what he's asking, the name has been stuck in your throat since he first asked, aching to get out like an ich you can't reach. You don't mean to feel as frustrated as you do with them, but you can't help yourself. You shout their names loudly, raising your bat in the air.

"And their little fucking shit talking friends!" Barty completes loudly, because of course he cracked it the moment he saw your state, raising a crow bar in the air, red painting chipped at both ends, you're not sure why or how he came do possess one of those, but you don't question either.

Instead, you swing your bat in the air, smashing the tv screen with a loud noise, glass shattering at your feet. Barty smiles by your side, and for a moment, you forget why you were so upset in the first place.

[stanfanfiction]

Taste of You - Ken x fem!reader - PART FOUR

Alrighty. Going to try bringing the reader’s history more into this one. There’s still a lotta hot going on but this one is more somber with some fluff and feelings and I really hope you like it <3

Thank you to @dogboytim for suggesting Ken helping the reader deal with self esteem/body issues. So definitely a TW for that.

I’ve also been dealing with some emotional shit in my own life and I think I kind used this as a catharsis for myself so….I hope it’s an okay read 🙈

Masterlist for previous parts

Warnings: 18+ ONLY / dealing with past trauma / panic attacks / body dysmorphia / domestic abuse (mentioned as a theme, nothing specific other than leading into the readers self esteem struggles) / horny Ken / caretaking Ken / fluff / feelings / Ken finally gets out of the house / soft sex / oral (fem!receiving) / stubborn Ken / bathroom sex / ptsd / some kinda con-non-con (but reader likes it so it is technically all consensual) / making love vs having sex… (you’ll see)

You squealed as Ken’s fingers entered you swiftly. Apparently you hadn’t been giving him enough attention this morning, *again,* and you were definitely starting to see a pattern forming here. You sat opened legged on your bathroom counter where Ken had placed you moments earlier while you were only trying to brush your hair and get dressed before you found yourself leaning back against the mirror over the sink and pulling his hair.

“I *HATE* class days,” he seethed as his mouth went to attack your clit and you gasped but smiled as you threw your head back. You hadn’t told him that right before he came into the bathroom deciding to be needy once again that you had just received an email that your class had been cancelled for the day, but you decided it didn’t hurt to not tell him for the next few minutes.

“Hmm…ahh…Ken is so needy again.”

Ken’s eyes stared at you as if being challenged and he used his free hand to open up your vulva lips and plant his tongue firmly against you, moving up from your opening slowly. You bucked a little and Ken removed his fingers from your core to place that hand on across your hips, holding you down for him as he began to tongue fuck you.

“Won’t let you leave,” he mumbled, his mouth pressed into you.

You laughed again. “Greedy boy. My class got cancelled today,” you breathed.

Ken paused for a moment to smile, then went back to pleasuring you but less from a place of frustration now as he began going a little slower, loving how you always squirmed when his touch was just a little too slow and your body craved more.

Your cell phone ringtone made you both startle, and you immediately began working to control your breathing when you saw the number.

“Ken, I have to get this,” you said, picking it up to answer it. Ken stopped what he was doing but remained kneeling in front of you, hands gently massaging your thighs. He leaned his cheek into one of your knees and smiled contentedly, pressing a kiss into it.

“Hi, Professor.”

Ken’s face fell.

“Hi, Miss Y/L/N. Sorry I wasn’t able to reply to your email, my Wifi has been dodgy all week.”

“No worries,” you said, noticing Ken’s scowl and trying not to giggle. You ran your fingers through his hair softly and that seemed to calm him down.

“But in answer to your email, unfortunately my plane back has been delayed so I’m not able to meet in-person, but I’m more than happy to answer any questions over the phone if now works for you.”

Ken shook his head.

“Yes! That would be great, thank you. Let me just grab the assignment really quick.” You wrinkled your nose at Ken and attempted to get off the counter but Ken held both of your legs tightly, not letting you go.

“Ken!” You scolded him silently. “I NEED to get my book bag.”

Ken gave you a playful look and stood. “Stay,” he said quietly. He left and within seconds he was back with your bag. You dug the out sample assignment you had been giving in class and smiled a thank you to him.

“Okay, so my first question was about -“ you could have committed a murder right then. Ken had pulled you forward to where you were almost hanging off the counter and dug his lips into your wetness.

“Ah, sorry,” ohhh you were definitely going to kill him, as you stressed over how there was probably no way your voice sounded normal right now no matter how hard you were tying. “Just finding the page.”

“Of course, take your time.”

“Stop it, stop IT,” you almost hissed, pulling the phone away from your ear just long enough to get your words out. Ken’s eyes met yours and your heart jumped. Ohh fuck fuck fuucckkk you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what he was feeling then, but it definitely wasn’t going to make your phone call any easier.

You kept your eyes glued to his while trying to ask your question, glancing at the paper in your hand every couple moments to make sure your stressed-out brain was remembering how to speak correctly. Ken just stared back at you, waiting, and somehow that tension was worse than if he was fucking you right now because you didn’t know when he was going to strike.

Your professor began answering your question, and you rummaged with your hand in your bag to find a pin to mark on the mock-up assignment when Ken shoved his tongue into your opening, and you could have lunged at him. He smirked.

“This isn’t a game,” you whispered down at him, trying to hold focus enough to write down what you needed to.

His eyes bored into yours. “Oh, I disagree,” they said, twinkling, and he began firmly licking you in circles. You had begun to read his mind simply by how expressive his eyes were, and you felt like you were having a full conversation with them right now.

Your hand shook a little and you cursed internally not being able to write at this moment. You pushed at Ken’s shoulder with your foot but of course he was built like a wall and didn’t budge. He grinned for a second and you caught yourself grinning back in an irritating mixture of frustration but also…. fun? And you hated that you were having fun.

“I’m a professional student,” you kept thinking to yourself on repeat.

“Did that answer what you were asking?” Your professor’s words didn’t register until a few seconds after they were spoken.

“Oh! Yes, it did, thank you so much.”

“Of course. Anything else you need to go over?”

You eyed Ken and wanted to get your answers but also knew it just wasn’t worth it at this point and you would have to talk to your professor after class next week.

“No, that was it. I really appreciate you getting back to me.”

You had NO idea what his reply was as Ken stood up and wrapped your legs around his waist, reaching underneath your butt, but you were able to register your professor saying to have a good day.

“You too, thank you!” You managed to get out before Ken took the phone, hung it up, and tossed it aside as he easily picked you up and carried you over to the wall.

“FUCKING hell, Ken,” you let out. “You cannot do that.”

“Hmmm.” He smirked. You wanted to both slap that smugness off of his face but also kiss him hungrily.

“I’ve got to put you in your place,” you lamented as you became trapped between the wall and Ken holding you up.

“But I *am* in my place,” Ken replied simply, knowing he was egging you on, and solidifying his point by sinking his cock into you.

“I *mean* it - ahhhhhh…” Your mind went blank as your legs held on for dear life around his waist while he fucked up into you sharply.

You both lay panting on the bed, coming down from your highs. Ken held you like usual, butterfly kissing your face while you came back to reality. Your head was swimming from the sex but also from realizing you needed to get Ken interested in something other than you, and fast. He had come into your life right after midterms, and you realized now how much of a blessing that was because you couldn’t fathom how on earth you would get through finals this way.

You petted his cheek. “Ken? Would you like to go on an outing with me today?”

He sat up a little, curious.

“I have been meaning to go to the library anyways, and you could come see my campus with me.”

“I thought you said only students were allowed there.”

“Well, only students can be in the classroom. You are able to come with me to the campus, though.”

Ken smiled, and your heart ached a little at realizing how much you really hadn’t been thinking of how he would probably love going out with you, he just didn’t seem to have the motivation to explore on his own, at least not since you had known him. You thanked yourself for remembering to get him a normal, not open-to-the-hips shirt the other day so he had something to wear, and before long you were both on the bus headed to your school.

The bus was a FASCINATING experience for Ken. You watched in entertained awe at him as he acted like an excited puppy. He pointed out cool buildings and places he wanted to visit to you every few seconds, commented on the unattractive interior design of the bus, and was reaching up to pull the emergency break alert rope when you grabbed his arm top stop him just in time.

His excitement never waned but he had moments of quiet, too, and he held your hand in both of his as he stared out the window. You leaned your head against the seat and studied him.

Who *was* this man, exactly? You never questioned his explanation that he was a literal doll come into your world, and now you wondered why that hadn’t felt difficult to believe. You knew the last couple weeks had been utter chaos on a number of levels, and you realized how much you had actually been needing someone to come in and turn everything into something wonderful for you. That definitely explained your lack of attempting to learn about him, what he was searching for, what he desired and wanted out of life.

You felt melancholy then, watching as Ken pointed to a dog out of the window and turned, smiling at you, making sure you saw it. You smiled back and nodded, and he turned his attention back to the outside world, never letting loose of your hand.

Your heart hurt now. This wasn’t something that could last forever, was it? Or…maybe? You didn’t know anything that was happening, other than in your little condo that you paid for with your inheritance, that life had become a little bubble of a world the two of you had created, something from a fantasy, and you missed it when you weren’t there. When you walked in the door, Ken was always waiting for you, and your little house felt like a home. You decided you needed to start trying to look at things a little more realistically, learn to actually know Ken, see if maybe this whole thing had a futur-

You cut off the thought before it felt too soothing, not wanting to get your hopes up. You sniffed softly and quickly wiped at a tear that you hadn’t expected to form, not wanting Ken to see. You just wanted to focus on enjoying today with him.

Getting off the bus was its own new adventure, as Ken looked around the campus. “Where are your classes? Do you have a favorite classroom? Do you have a favorite study place? Is there somewhere you like to meet with your friends?”

His questions hit you hard, and you hated how oddly sad you felt today. Everything he was asking was less about general curiosity and only meant to better understand YOU and your life and how you existed in it when he wasn’t around.

You two made your way to the library where you found the book you needed and also check-out a book Ken had been absorbed in about horses. You knew you’d have to ask him to explain that one someday.

You were strolling slowly back to the bus stop when you noticed a really nice grassy area shaded by a huge tree, and suggested you both sit there for awhile. Ken happily complied, and you opened your new book to start going over it. Ken snuggled up next to you and would every few minutes ask about something in the book that he didn’t understand as he read over your shoulder, and this was honestly a really easy way to study for your exams, you decided.

Suddenly he felt your body go rigid. Ken noticed and followed your eyesight to see a man staring at you, dark eyes filled with anger. His body stance was tight, one hand in a fist. He looked the personification of pure rage. You felt paralyzed.

“Who is that?”

You worked to answer as you exhaled. “My ex.”

Your ex. He really didn’t know anything about your ex, but he fought like hell to destroy the dagger of jealousy that pierced his heart just then. He realized that was out of place and definitively not called for, especially in this moment, but he couldn’t help it, now thinking of how someone else besides him had been with you in the same way he was with you now, and he loathed the images that flooded his mind.

He leaned down to your ear. “Is that the reason you were crying the other day?”

Unable to verbally reply, tears stung your eyes as your breaths became shaky, although you were working desperately to control your outward appearance. You refused to look wounded in front of him.

That was plenty of confirmation for Ken and he wrapped his arm around you protectively. “What do you need me to do?”

“Help me get out of here,” your words barely a whisper as he helped you to your feet swiftly and grabbed the books. You tried to look away but were held captive by the gaze of the man standing across the courtyard from you.

Ken wasn’t sure what hit him then, but he suddenly felt outraged. He handed the books to you. “I’ll be right back,” he seethed, jaw tight.

You snapped back into reality just in time as Ken began swift, long strides over to the man, who look pleased at the attention he was receiving, and smirked in your direction. You jumped forward and gripped Ken’s arm.

“No, no, no, no, Ken, we have to leave.”

He paused and turned back to you because of the panic in your voice.

“He’s just trying to start a fight. I need to go.”

“He hurt you,” Ken bit out.

“Which is why we need to go. He’s angering you on purpose to hurt me again.”

Ken glanced back over his shoulder at the man who pulled his hand out of his fraternity jacket and waved mockingly. Ken huffed but hated how you were pleading with him, so he turned away and you both began walking briskly out of his sight.

You both remained quiet on the way home other than Ken asking if there was anything he could do a couple of times. You bit at your nails restlessly until the bus stopped at your exit station and you took Ken’s hand and hurried off back to your condo. You didn’t feel safe until you were back inside your home with the front door double locked.

You had kept your gaze on the floor the whole journey home, and Ken gently placed his hands on your arms, leading you to sit down on the sofa as he kneeled in front of you and took your hands in his.

“What did he do?” His voice sounded shaky, as if afraid of hearing the answers.

You felt fairly certain Ken didn’t know about certain forms of violence that happened between couples. From what he had told you about Barbieland, that idea had never been considered.

“So many things,” you were still trying to hold back tears. “So, so many things.”

“Tell me.”

You looked up from the ground to get lost in Ken’s blue eyes filled with concern and wanting nothing more than to understand so he knew how to help. The thought that telling him about what had happened and how that fresh new understanding of reality would probably break him just to process felt so cruel, and fuck, you didn’t want to lose the one innocent aspect you had had in your life. You broke out into sobs, trying to hide your face and Ken let you, your hands hiding your eyes as Ken wrapped his arms around your legs and placed his chin on your knee, waiting patiently.

“What is it you’re so scared to tell me?” He asked when your sobs became less loud.

How could you answer this without actually answering this…

“Sometimes, when people are in relationships, they can do really horrible things to their partners. They can hurt them really badly, in ways that sometimes never fully heal. That pain,” you grasped at your chest were you heart was, “it can just sort of stay, and sometimes you only have so much control over how much or how often it can hurt you again.” You began crying harder again, and Ken slowly got up and sat next to you, softly cradling you in his arms. You were thankful for the warmth and cried into his chest as he just held you like that until you were ready to say more. He wanted to know every detail of what you had gone through but also knew not to push it and wanted to respect the boundary you were holding with him. He worked to keep his body language soft and protective while fuming inside.

“Sometimes, though,” your voice was a little hoarse from all the crying, “people are able to find other people who help them. Who make them feel safe. Who are kind and gentle and who you know would never intentionally harm you.” You placed a hand on his chest next to your head, and his anger felt like it was seeping through his veins like the lava from a volcano as it erupted, filling every inch of him.

He had never felt this way before. You felt his muscles clench around you, but not tightening on you so as not to hurt you.

“What is it, Ken?”

“I feel angry,” he got out, jaw clenched again.

You nodded sadly. “Yeah. Me, too.”

He breathed in sharply. “How do I make sure he will never do it again?”

“I got a restraining order awhile back. That’s why he wasn’t able to walk over to us and was instead trying to get you to come to him instead. He tries to find new ways to scare me without getting in trouble legally anymore. He went for you hoping you would fall for it, to send me an extra message, that he is still capable to hurt anything I love.”

Ken felt his throat go dry. He wanted nothing more now than you follow up on those last few words, but now wasn’t the time to validate anything for himself. He needed to keep focused on caring for you.

“I will take care of you, y/n. I’m protect you. I promise.”

You felt his words vibrate through his chest right into your ear and felt his chin rest on the crown of your head.

“I will always be here.”

You smiled the tiniest smile and leaned into him more. “I know.”

Ken swelled with happiness, his anxiety calming down a little bit. You pulled back and Ken lifted your legs to rest over his lap, arms keeping their place around you.

“Days like today,” you said, “they have become less about physical danger to me. It’s all about hear,” you placed one of Ken’s hands gently on the side of your head. “It’s the memories that still hurt, and he works to bring them back.”

“How can I help make them go away, at least for now?”

You thought about it, then shook your head. “They’ll fade again, as they always do, for awhile. I think I need to clear my head and shower.”

Ken nodded and helped you stand up. “Do you need me?”

“I think I need just a minute to myself.”

“Okay. I understand.”

You stood on tiptoes to place the tiniest of kisses on the tip of his nose, then slowly began to head towards the bathroom.

Ken came in later when he head the shower faucet turned off, and walked in to check on you. Typically you had to issue being naked as soon as you dried off, but you had wrapped yourself tightly in a towel and he noticed the mirror had a towel over it, too.

You had hoped he wouldn’t walk in and have to explain another leftover stupid fucking thing from your previous relationship.

You tumble over your words to just get it over with, and his eyes grew wider with each passing sentence.

“But…..” he seemed incredulous, almost as if you had made the whole thing up. “You’re so beautiful.” It was stating a fact. There was no argument and he couldn’t comprehend anyone disagreeing.

“Sometimes I feel the opposite. You roughly brushed your hair just to have something to do.

Ken couldn’t believe the raw audacity that someone would harm someone else with words to make them hate how they looked, even for a second. He told you this in so many words, but finished with that even thought he didn’t understand, he did understand that your hurt didn’t hurt less just because he wanted it to.

You looked up at him, holding back tears, suddenly feeling the most intense desire to get lost in this man who genuinely could not process the pain you were in because it seemed so brutal, so cruel, so incredibly ridiculous that anyone would have to bear the weight that you were carrying. You need that, that little wisp that he offered of getting lost in the reality of his mind that knew so little but also someone knew and felt so much.

“Make love to me, Ken.”

It took him a moment to comprehend what you were asking, but he someone instinctively knew what you asked for, and walked over to you, ever so gently taking your face in his hands and leaning down to kiss you.

The kiss was like a spark went off in your head. Ken was gentle, taking your lips in his in tiny movements as if he might break you if he touched you too hard. You moaned to encourage him, wrapping your arms around his neck, and in turn he held you closer to him, his arms now around your back.

He kissed you lovingly and with passion you had never known before, pulling back to stare into your eyes, waiting for you to tell him what you wanted. He had made himself master of your command, and he wanted you to be in charge of everything that happened right now, anything that would make you feel loved the way he hoped you wanted to.

“Take me to the bed?”

Ken picked your wrapped figure up bridal style and did as you asked, laying you down and holding you to him, your faces inches apart on the pillow. You initiated kissing again, and his hand caressed the back of you head, pulling you a little closer. His tongue traced the your bottom lip and you smiled a little and he smiled back.

“What do you need?” He was completely lost in wanting to care for you.

You didn’t reply, not to be rude, but your brain froze up again, not wanting to see your own body be uncovered right now.

Ken reached for the top of the towel, fingers closing around it, waiting for your consent. You shook your head.

“That’s alright,” he soothed, seeing guilt spread across your face. The he had an idea.

“What if you close your eyes, and I undress you under the comforter?”

You contemplated this then nodded, feeling small and mousy. Ken pulled his shirt over his head and then the comforter over both of you as he hovered over you but not putting too much pressure on you.

You closed your eyes as his hand went back for the towel, and as he began pulling it apart, pausing every few seconds to make sure you hadn’t changed your mind, he left tender kisses down your neck and collarbone, sucking softly, and he it felt so good to him when he heard you moan. The towel eventually fell open, lying underneath you, your body bare.

Ken ran his large hand up and down your body, grazing the side of your breast and then down your stomach and hip, your body responding so naturally it was as if he had been created just to touch you. You opened your eyes, relaxing, and saw him watching you, studying your every emotion.

You smiled shyly. “Hi.”

He smiled warmly. “Hi.”

You placed your hands on his chest just to touch him. “You make me feel loved.”

If Ken could have physically melted, he would have in that moment. “That is always my intention.”

You pulled him down to you, consuming his lips, and Ken’s body molded into yours as he somehow fully surrounded you, covered in a little cave of a comforter. You felt like nothing could penetrate the safety he provided for you right now.

You reached towards towards his jeans and unbuttoned them, him raising his hips enough to where you two were able to get them kicked off.

“Need you,” you said, pulling him to you.

He nodded and began to move downwards but you stopped him.

“I just want to feel *you.”

“But…you…I haven’t done anything yet -“

“I’m fine, Ken.” You promised. “I just need to feel you, now.”

He moved back up so your hips lined up perfectly and you opened your legs for him as he dipped his member into your folds. He gasped a little at how wet you already were.

He looked confused. “How..?” He trailed off, then, “I thought I needed to make you wet.”

“You always do.”

Ken breathed in deeply. His feelings for you soared, and he felt like he might be floating a little. He rubbed his tip against your opening and you put your arms around his neck again.

“Show me how much you love me, Ken.”

That was the last confirmation he needed as he dipped his cock into you, making himself keep shallow thrusts as you got used to his size before moving slowly deeper inside of you.

His hands roamed your body, stopping every few inches to tell you how beautiful you were, how majestically you moved, how perfect your noises were. He kissed each part he could reach with hips lips for emphasis, wanting to cover you with his love, and you felt that energy wash over every piece of you that he touched.

You felt beautiful, you felt seen and held and your hands explored Ken’s body at the same time.

You tangled your fingers in the back of his hair as he began to move faster but still maintaining a much slower pace then usual, both of you completely lost in each other for what felt like an eternity.

Finally, you began to feel your climax building, but loved how tenderly Ken was fucking you, and didn’t want it to change.

“Keep going, just like that, Ken. Please.”

His hand gripped your hip as he felt you arch a little, and he knew you were close. He wanted every single thrust to matter, for you to feel what he was hoping you would feel from him. He kept the pace you asked for, only making his movement a little rougher as you eyes begin to close tightly, your hands pulling on his hair now.

“Y/n,” he coaxed. “Please keep your eyes open. I want to see you.”

You did as he asked, and you swear you’d never seen a more beautiful sight then him staring down at you, and you lost it then, the most wonderful wave traveling from your legs all the way up into your chest, warm and tingly and almost healing in how it felt.

Ken followed right after, keeping his eyes on yours as well, so tender and so content, and you held him as he collapsed on top of you, his face buried in your neck as you both panted.

Ken almost cried as he engulfed you with his arms when he heard your next words, breathy but firm.

“I love you, too, Ken.”

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[heyclickadee]

More Massive Fandom Salt under the cut

If I see one more condescending post about how people who don’t like Tech getting killed off just don’t get it, I’m going to mcfreaking lose it.

Like, okay. I think Tech is alive. I think I’ve been clear about that. If I haven’t, then I don’t know what else to do. I actually even get why taking him off the board for season three could be a good move (give Crosshair time to decompress and Omega time to come into her own and be the hero of her own show, while also maybe setting Tech up for another plot line to come later), and think it’s possible that bringing Tech back later could actually work much better than what I originally wanted to happen. In fact, if it really is a fake-out I think it’s kind of immaculate. And I still get angry reading those posts.

Because, first, a lot of people upset by the handling of Tech from “Plan 99” onwards are upset because Tech meant something to them. It goes a lot deeper than just losing your favorite character. Tech was a fantastic piece of autistic representation and losing that hurt. Losing that and then never getting the catharsis that comes with on-screen emotional processing from the characters, no closure, no real in-show impact besides inconveniencing the others hurt even more. It left a lot of autistic people in the fandom feeling like we were told that we weren’t welcome in Star Wars at all.

And most of us still love the show! The Bad Batch is still my favorite show and I adore basically the entire thing up through season three, right up to the point where everything just kind of stops without resolving anything but Hunter and Omega, and not getting Tech back before the end hit me so badly that I almost dropped Star Wars completely. People are upset for a reason.

Second, I get that it can be annoying seeing criticism of your favorite show. I do. I actually disagree with a lot of criticism of TBB and do tend to get a little annoyed at certain takes. The other thing about the “Tech’s dead and that’s good”/“You thought Tech could come back because you were delusional” posts that makes me want to fight everyone, though, is that they tend to be incredibly dismissive. They’ll bring up arguments people made during the airing of the show for why Tech could come back, or arguments they made afterwards for why they thought he should have, and then either misunderstand or talk right past them.

It gives anyone who made those arguments, or who was upset by the ending, a general sense that we’re not being listened to. That people have already decided we’re irrational and that nothing we say or experience matters, that we saw patterns that weren’t there, or that we care too much about this specific thing, or that we’re being immature. Maybe. Just. I don’t know—consider for a second that a lot of the people who are most upset about Tech belong to the noticing patterns/caring a lot about specific things/dismissed for noticing things that are really there in real life/frequently infantilized neurotype. Again, there’s a reason some of us are upset and having a hard time with fandom right now.

I actually don’t have a problem with people thinking or making posts saying someone needed to die or that Tech “dying” was well handled as a death. I will always disagree, and I think we’re too close to the “bury your disabled” trope with most of the batchers for me to be okay with any of them dying like that, but one person will interpret fiction differently than another and I can’t and shouldn’t police that. I do, however, have a massive problem with the condescending way a lot of those posts go about it. Think Tech ought to be dead? Fine. Call anyone who thinks otherwise a child? Instablock, I don’t need that in my life.

[coriphallus]

A little rant on patch 6 and the implications for bg3's future

Okay, bear with me for a sec its gonna go somewhere eventually. My first bg3 run (thats spammed here on this blog) i played ascended astarion/dark urge romance where i picked the reject bhaal and become the absolute ending.

as it was my first playthrough on release i was vibrating off mt seat and i didnt really have elaborate HCs or anything, i was just doing a quick evil run until the bugs get sorted out. i didn't think much beyond "yes this dude would want the shiny stones for himself"

first time i saw astarion enthralled, i was confused. he asked me to do it, he was quite insistent on it since the beginning of the game. i was confused for a couple of hours, digesting the entire game i just played. Then it hit me; the game was calling me out. it was telling me ive been stupid for not having seen this coming and at that point i felt awe.

it was right, everything pointed to this, it was right in front of my eyes all i needed was to connect the dots that the game laid out quite visibly and i was just too caught up to see.

'well my durge would never do that' didnt matter because thats exactly what the companions thought. Gale thought the powers of an insatiable weave wouldnt corrupt him, that he'd stay true to himself, shadowheart thought shar had blessed and her she'd guide her, that she could be her true self under her influence, astarion thought he'd be free, that he'd cherish the bond he'd made with the player but at the end of the day power reveals; and when that power is acquired through the corpses of thousands its quite evident that Absolute power corrupts absolutely. IT WAS IN THE FKIN NAME.

it was a shining bait i was so focused on getting my hands on that i didn't look back to see the mountain of corpses i had to step on to get there. the game was telling me 'HEY LOOK AT EVERYTHING YOU'VE DONE TO GET HERE, LOOK AT WHAT HAPPENED TO ALL THE OTHERS WHO THOUGHT THEY COULD ACHIEVE THIS, DO YOU THINK YOU'D HOLD HANDS AND SING KUMBAYA WITH YOUR FRIENDS AFTER ALL THIS?'

just as there was never an option where frodo could stab saurons flaming eyeball and sit on his throne with the ring on his finger and sam at his side, there was never an ending i could get my 'happy ending' the way id like it to. i wanted frodo to remain in middle earth and have some peace in the end, i didnt understand how he was 'too changed' to remain and sam wasnt when i first read the books. i was angry even, that i didnt get what i wanted. it wasnt like tolkien haphazardly put together an ending out of his ass bcs he didnt know what to do with the characters, its not that he didn't think while writing that the fans would hate it, he wrote a story that achieved its catharsis by reaching its narrative conclusion. it couldnt have done that any other way. it was deliberate. i may not have understood or agreed at the time but it was the story he wanted to tell, and it wouldnt be one of the greatest stories ever told if the writer wanted to please a 10 y/o like myself.

it was never out of character for my durge at all, i was just blissfully avoiding the NARRATIVE.

months later we get this absolute narrative abomination:

and all i can say is im worried.

im worried bcs this is a clear disrespect to the story they've written, im worried bcs if they can do off with huge plot elements and beats such as this just like that it shows a lack of commitment to their own plot and if a huge Point of the game can be treated like a minor mistake than what else can? was is just a lack of oversight that laezel gets killed under vlaakith? can it be waved off if enough vlaakith loving gith players come together and shout loud enough that they want to ride alongside their queen with their gith gf?

what part of the game is tangible to hold on to, and after two years worth of patches that are made to appease the fans at the expense of the story, will it still be the game i fell in love with?

i dont blame the fans for wanting, i blame the devs for delivering. that they could sacrifice the integrity of a pretty straightforward story bodes ill tidings for the future of this game.

yes i wanted this feature, but i was glad i wasn't given it. i may have been confused and slightly miffed that i didn't get to reign supreme with my evil bf, but i immensely respected the game that could call me out on it. i wish they could show the same respect to their own writing.

[kaseysgtnonsense]

Been so busy but now I’m having thoughts about helping cute tiny guys heal emotionally

Him expecting me to be a monster, trying to fight back and fearing being seen as weak, fearing becoming a helpless thing to use and torment…

…but instead I simply pick him up, hold him to my heart, and say “please, we don’t have to fight… it’ll be okay, please trust me…”

And in that moment of peace, he cries. Not out of fear or sadness, but catharsis, his fears vanishing, the knowledge that he doesn’t need to wage an endless battle anymore to assert his own strength or value: within my hands, he is finally able to be a person.

[littleclosetofbyler]

I personally don’t really want Byler to hook up in season 5 purely because it doesn’t feel like something either Mike or Will would jump to doing immediately, especially not Will (though we may see a more confident side of him in season 5 that might want to especially with an “end of the world” vibe weighing on them), I could see Will wanting a more “ease into it” or “sweet romance first” type of relationship, and having both Mike and Will go from deep in the closet to immediately dtf doesn’t feel right.

But I understand why people want it especially since in season 5 they’ll be older than Nancy was in season 1 and the same age as Jonathan and Nancy in season 2, and in season 1 Nancy hooked up with Steve and in season 2 Nancy and Jonathan hooked up, so by having Byler hook up, it does equivocate them with the other older teen straight ships we’ve so far seen be romantically entangled. A lot of media, especially teen media (which ST isn’t, but the majority of the characters are young) feel the need to “purify” queer ships, so Byler not hooking up may come across as trying to do just that.

But again I personally don’t want them to hook up because I don’t feel like it makes sense right away immediately after a confession or kiss for Will and Mike specifically. If there was to be a season 6 then that’s when I’d want them to have their own implied hook up scene because I think both characters wouldn’t be able to go from repressed in the closet to immediately hooking up at the drop of a hat, they already have enough to process and come to terms with regarding their sexuality, sex itself just seems like it would be something to build up to together.

(I’m aroace though so maybe that’s affecting my personal opinion?)

Anyways I do think the Duffers will give us a kiss, I think they’ve set it up where it’ll be this incredible moment of joy and catharsis, and I don’t think the Duffers are cowards, I think they’ll push for this especially since it’s the final season. Fuck Netflix, this is the culmination of a slow burn friends to lovers romance and I think they’ll want to do it justice.

I got indeed a lot of hate for that post, and your message. Thanks for being civil.

I think the opposite, it's not about being pure, it's about it needing to be just a friends to lovers without going overboard with hypersexualization or fan service.

The thing with S1 and the teens is that we as GA at the time, never saw them as teens, because we didn't know them at the time, they were new and getting into show for it.

In S5 when the kids will be that age (20-24 actors, 16 characters) it's "okay" but it's also weird as hell because they entered the story at 11... i don't know about you but I would rather no see this kind of scene with anyone I would have meet at that age.

When I say a lot of you are young for this, I mean it in the sense that you haven't seen the fandom act; the same happened with Harry Potter in 2001 when we didn't even know how to stories would end, everyone was insane for it.

Then the infamous scene in that last part happened and... everyone was weirded out.

Media is a weird format, and a lot of fans are weird, doesn't matter which side we are from.

And people just leave a comment, I don't go well with asks, I don't even know how they work, i am here for the theories.

[dicenete]

Hey, I'm rambling about IkePri again

Okay, I just need to get these thoughts I have about Gilbert von Obsidian out because I enjoy predicting stuff and overthinking design and narrative choices even tho they might not be right. :P But there really isn't that much predicting other than me overthinking about narrative and design choices. This time there will be most likely spoilers of Gilbert's route so far, and route of Clavis and some thoughts I have just gathered while playing the game in general. I try to put these thoughts in cohesive order, but well... I don't know if I can really, because I just need to get these out of my head. These are my thoughts, ramblings and opinions. Feel free to form your own and certainly disagree with me! I apologize about the lack of art in this post. I'm busy with work currently so no fanart for a while. I'm also not native English speaker, so there might be grammatical errors and such. Sorry about that. Everything under the cut.

To start with Ikemen Prince is a romance visual novel first and foremost. That doesn't mean it can't be deep (and it certainly has been deeper than I initially expect, which left me positively surprised). I suppose there is somesort of thematic vibe that there is no prince whose ideals are the main thesis of the game itself. But that also kinda leaves that fact there is no huge catharsis regarding the world and it's state. Everything so far has been left quite open. And the more I have learned about lore of the world, I really feel like anti-monarchist here xd Clavis really sold me the idea for real. Or atleast throw away the absolute monarchy. That's where I think things should go, but that's my own belief. (really, the last king of Rhodolite... He umm... I have some opinions.) Chevalier and Gilbert First things first: I don't hate or dislike Chevalier as a character. There are just some things that give me Deus Ex Machina feels. But I know it is what they are going for with him. This genius that so far ahead of everyone that it is so alien concept to rest of the people. And well that is a very hard concept to pull off without being a genius yourself as a writer. Or that is what I feel like. But what I do love is what the writers are doing with him and Gilbert in thematic sense! (Hence why Chev x Gilbert sounds so juicy to me)

I really took steps to the deep end as I started to think about why I have enjoyed Gilbert's route or was interested in his story to begin with, but have little interest in trying Chev's one. Because they are so similar but they really aren't.

How I would describe it is that where as Clavis is the complementary to Chev, the purple to his yellow, the emotionality vs rationality, the heart vs the brain, Gilbert is more like right brain to Chev's left brain. If it makes sense like that xd Their color schemes are harmonious. Not opposite. Almost like how Nokto and Licht's color schemes are harmonious with each others.

(Nokto (Blue + white + gold) vs Licht (Blue + black + gold)) Not to mention that their names clearly are meant to mean light and dark. (Licht: variant for light, Nokto: comes form latin nox or noctis, meaning night = dark) But that is a rambling for another time.) Both their crests are tigers. White and black tiger. Chev's color scheme is White + gold and black. Whereas Gilbert's is Black + gold and white. But then the overall color that game devs use to signal about the characters baffles me a bit. Gold/Yellow vs Black/dark red. They don't seem to have too much connection or that of which comes to my mind quickly and without digging deeper. (because I believe that if you dig deep enough, you have digged yourself into a trap of overthinking about things. (Justifying things because you want to justify them, which I'm not big fan of. And sometimes things don't need meaning and we have to live with that. As much as it pains my overthinker brain.)) But here is my impressions about Gilbert so far. I'm at the point where MC has left the Clavis's party (I loved it btw). Gilbert really does give me toxic INFJ villain feels, but let's not get too hang up on terms such as that. But he is someone who is driven forth by his own ideals and desire to change the world better. He, like Clavis, seems to cloak himself in this idea that he is the villain and is okay, even happy, to take that role. He is the one who, like Chevalier, has thrown away emotional attachment out of the window (or so they say) unlike Clavis who makes his choices based more on emotion rather than rational thinking. Maybe that's why I like Clavis and Gilbert, they push MC out of their black and white thinking. That things are not so easy peezy as "choose a right king and everyone will be happy". There will always be someone who is mad about it. That's why I really loved the scene with Gilbert with the orphaned kids and the Clavis's party. He seems to enjoy the company of children (who are not morally corrupted or tainted) and he really empathically listens to those who are angry. He believes in the idea that "no one remembers what you said, but they will always remember how you made them feel". (A quote with debatable origin, people say that it was coined by Maya Angelou. But I really love this quote, because I think it is the truth.) Gilbert isn't trying to rationalize against someone's choices with pure intellect. He uses empathy to guide him to the most rational outcome in that emotional scope. But he also uses this to manipulate people with fear. He uses fear extensively and he does it actively. Where as I feel like Chev just has that aura about him automatically. Hence my next thought: Action vs Stasis!

Gilbert and Clavis are action oriented. They shake the gameboard, they make the first moves. Gilbert probably more than Clavis. They both want change. Is it change for the better, we will see, I still haven't finished Gilbert's route but he really gives me this "I'm willing to become the greatest threat so that people unite to defeat me." or "I will conquer all so there will no longer be wars.". Chev, on the other hand, symbolizes stasis. His goal is to keep the kingdom of Rhodolite going. That's his duty and he is willing to take it. (even tho we can debate if that is something he really really believes in or even thinks about that much. I feel like it is out of obligation rather than of personal ideal. But alas, I have not played Chev's route yet.) Chev is reactive rather than proactive. He waits for the opponent to make the first move and reacts accordingly. (I'm not saying he is not reactive once game is on. More like "if there was not threat to deal with, he wouldn't create one".)

Chev doesn't care what you think about him. Gilbert does. He might seem like he doesn't but he is really there to prove a point. (I will pick up his dislike for lying later >.>) Chev is not. Chev knows that his way is the right way for him and that is enough for him. Chev also actively makes a "gettaway plan" for himself in Clavis. He knows that Clavis is the final thread that keeps him from going overboard because he understand that he has to be blind for "individual people" aspect to be a good ruler. Gilbert probably understands this about himself too, but he is trying to prove a point. So he needs to go overboard. Because masses of people need absolutes to react to. If it is something banal, it won't do. His evil actions need to shake the very foundation of ideas. The people have to face those things head on and see it for themselves. They cannot be sheltered. Gilbert gives me the vibes that he is willing to sacrifice himself not for the kingdom, but for the betterment of all mankind. He is happy to become the villain #1 if that means that other people will rise and take down the corrupted Obsidian or the corrupted idea. I would say that he is Lawful Good going on about things like Lawful Evil.

Gilbert asking questions means that he wants you to think, he wants to challenge your opinions and how you look at the world. Same as Clavis. They yearn for change. They want to change the world. Where as Chev wants to maintain things as they are. Chev "If it is not broken, we don't need to fix it" Michel. Where as Clavis and Gilbert want to improve the system. They are idealistic. Gilbert and lying

This is something very interesting. At first I thought that he was all "I dislike when people lie to me." but he really is "I dislike lying in all its forms." And he does say that he doesn't lie. And I'm starting to believe that is really the case. All the things he says are true. But because how other people see him, they are suspicious anyway. Like MC is. Like we all probably are when we start the route and think "So what is your trauma, baby girl?" When he is unsure or knows that he shouldn't say the thing he really thinks or that is true, he will deflect or give a very vague response. Which makes me quite happy to replay his route at somepoint with this in mind. In conclusion: Welcome to my TED talk, with no head or tail, just me overthinking about things about a otome gacha game. If you read this far, thank you for your time. Remember, if I ramble about it, it just means that I'm invested. Have a good day~

[warderfromtheborder]

Destiny: the year of Very Well Structured Things In Sets of 2

Defiance+Wish: The Sovs Mara and Crow, the Eliksni Misraaks and Eramis, and the Regular Ass Humans Devrim and Petra(PV counts as a regular-ass human she isn't a figure of prophecy or royalty in the reef she's a cop who's been promoted too much out of necessity)

Deep+Witch: The Truncated Heros Sloane and Eris, the Osmium OGs Xivu and Savathun, the Concerned Boss-Parents Zavala and Ikora, and the Wriggly Enablers Ahsa and Drifter (okay you got me) I mean the Nonhuman Guides Ahsa and Immaru

Lightfall: Osiris with no Sagira and Nimbus with no Rohan and Caiatl with no Recognizable Dad and the Witness with no Disciples and Chioma with no Maya and the Vex with no Chill the Living People of Neomuna with no Meatspace to live in. (The dreaming city curse will never end and the people on Neptune will never get to leave the matrix Im sorry but that's the way it is)

The story and themes for this year of Destiny are SO GOOD the writers have done SUCH A GOOD JOB. If making a tighter relationship between the expansion narrative and the seasonal narratives was one of the goals this year they fucking knocked it out of the park, I can't put any of these arcs into its own box because they have been knit together so sturdily. It's all one great narrative, one Very Big narrative, they haven't done it like this before!

(And Im so mad people couldnt stop shitting on Lightfall they are stoping themselves from seeing how good the WHOLE NARRATIVE IS they are probably gonna say come march/near TFS launch "uhh yeah the seasons were good i guees but maybe they shoulda worked harder on Lightfall I mean who even likes Nimbus" and for their Ignorance and Haterism I am sentencing them to reading part two of The Two Towers while they get attacked by Paper-Tube Ninjas and a broadcast system shouts at them 'YOU CANNOT HAVE THE VICTORIES IN RETURN OF THE KING IF FRODO AND SAM DIDNT KEEP WALKING ALL THE WAY TO MORDOR' for 100 hundred years.) (The link there is I didn't get the Point of that part of Two Towers when I first read it and assumed the whole would have been better without it. Obviously...I was wrong, and so are these clowns who think Lightfall has a bad story)

The name of the game this year is Resolution, Catharsis, Armistice, Acceptance. The structuring is so simple and so elegant and so well executed, the 2s, the 3s, the mirroring and the inverting and the unfathomable gloriousness of the victories personal and community and galaxy wide. There is no way to overstate the bitterness of Amanda's death, the relief of exhalation when Sloane retreats, the VINDICATION of Eris's vengeance.

You remember when Zavala 'discovered' Crow's former identity? How that was the crowning on-screen narrative jewel in destiny up to that point? What I am saying is EVERY ARC THIS YEAR IS AS GOOD OR BETTER THAN THAT BEAT AND DESERVES AS MUCH RECOGNITION FOR THE ARTISTIC ACHIEVEMENT OF SO MANY COMPLEMENTARY COMBOS PACKED INTO ONE EXPANSION STORY.

If Shadowkeep was the first sign of symptoms, if Beyond Light was trying to irradiate the disease, if Witch Queen was a tug of war with scar tissue, then Lightfall is the world after recovery and making peace with what will Never Be The Same, and the home and family that has been changed forever but is still Your Home and Your Family. We don't stop fighting but we also don't stop loving and growing and caring.

One last thing for my fellow Sjur copium addicts out there: Sloane's retreat was mirrored and inverted by Eris's victory, so for the complementary-ness of the story to continue, Amanda's death and Crow's subsequent emotional anguish over losing the person he fought with but who also saw him for who he really is will need to be mirrored and inverted by SOMEONE who Mara fought with but who also saw her for who she really is and I expect you will agree this is SCIENTIFICALLY ACCURATE reasoning that Sjur's comin back home.

[ladyorigami]

How do you feel about season 4

Bad. I feel reeeeal bad about season 4. LOL I hate it, actually-hate what they did to my boy.

Yes I'm always focused most on Five as a character, but I will say as a whole, the season is just...just a mess. They took away a lot of particular traits from the characters in order to sort of give this...shock value? Not sure that's the word, but in order for us to see how differently bland and miserable everyone's life is this time around, and to do that, they also just, sucked a ton of their characters out right with it. We also have no catharsis, no proper conclusion to the relationships and events of s3, and even though they carry that over, they don't actually give resolution.

The plot also just-and the ENDING-I...okay I need to round back to Five for a second. I'm going to ramble rant about Five for a bit PASSIONATELY so SPOILER ALERT AHEAD, don't read below this if you don't want to see me lay down a quick wall of text about The Boy:

It's not like I don't understand the 'why' of it.

Imagine spending the majority of your life in an apocalypse, eating bugs and learning how to harden your heart and kill as a child, all for the CHANCE at getting back to your family.

Throwing him back into that scenario is like...the mere THOUGHT of that makes me insane with all of the character exploration we could have had and then DIDN'T GET ANY.

Like I can't even fathom the sheer trauma he was going through once they got lost in that subway for more than a couple weeks. He's essentially in his personal hell all over again and this time it's without that hope of his family he had before. Of course he's going to cling to the one person who is there, of course they both would, it's been years. Trauma bonding exists and they both have a lot of it and yes, they are like with their rough edges and independence. So sure, I can understand the 'why' and 'how' of this happening (even if I hate it and it lowkey gives me the ick)

But we didn't even GET the character parts of that. We didn't get any trauma, didn't get any PTSD, didn't get any look into Five's mind and heart there in the subway. This really would have been a perfect opportunity to finally crack all of that wide open, because it's always been brushed off before. But nope.

Instead, an affair with Lila. A rushed sloppy timelapse and then they're a thing now and that's...it? Like the whole point of that was just for them to have this weird relationship and then they came back??

There's a time that he even SEES a younger version of himself in the same apocalypse and he reacts like he isn't even there.

This character who becomes lost without a purpose and is still searching for it, whose flame is uncharacteristically dimmed of the usual fire? Yes. I would like to explore that.

Like I said it's not even necessarily the issue that it could have happened in the beginning but it's his attitude after that really got to me. The entitlement he had to square up to Diego?? The entitlement he had to continue to cling around her when her family is there and the way he's acting...it's like it's just terrible to me.

When Five loves he loves with his whole heart, he devotes everything he has to the people he cares for but once upon a time that used to be his family and like hell if I think he would fist fight Diego for LILA. Diego his brother...Diego whose eyes warmed with such love and relief in the second season when he saw Five at that hospital. Five who sacrificed himself numerous times over to keep them safe.

I get the point is that Five is lost. That his family clearly can't give him what he needs and he's just in some ways given up trying for it. He's-tired and he just wants to rest and have something or someone that he can call his own...but that's definitely not going to be the wife of his brother???? rihgqoirgoais

I just can't swallow this attitude by him in the after bits-and I definitely can't come to terms with the fact that they basically planted him back into his personal nightmare and all that came from that was a rushed love affair. It puts a bitter bitter taste in my mouth he deserved this character exploration, he deserved to actually have his family go try and save him for once-fight for him-show him that they care as much as he's cared for them.

(There is NO slander being thrown to people who like this ship before or after s4, you guys like what you like and that's fantastic. I just have issues with the way it was all handled and I must rant passionately.)

[linkspooky]

I've followed this blog for years now. What I find most interesting about your analysis is how you tie "revenge is bad" back to your Bad Victims TM stuff. Now, I still enjoy straight revenge stories but I think you helped me enjoy deconstructions/cycle of revenge tales even more than I like the simple stuff. As a convert, I want to ask a meta meta question: how do you feel about people who use straight revenge stories as catharsis?

Well, the idea of Catharsis ties into my bad victims stuff TM. On one hand I dislike straightforward revenge stories where revenge is the solution to the problem and not the problem in and of itself. On the other hand, like I went to great length to explain with Yun, I hate denying the sympathy to a victim who's been pushed so far that seeking revenge is their only means of coping.

In the first place, like I said revenge tends to follow protagonist centered morality. When a protagonist does it, it's justice, when an antagonist does it, it's revenge and they need to let go. Telling someone to let go without acknowledging their hurt feelings and doing something to address those or even reaching out to try to show them another way is incredibly dismissive of those feelings.

Shadow of Kyoshi tells us that revenge is bad, but punishing Yun in the form of putting him down like a mad dog before he hurts anyone else is okay. As I said, what exactly is the difference here between punishment and revenge? Where's the fairness in letting Yun's abusers redeem themselves but deciding that Yun is too far gone to live on. Like hmm, maybe the reason his abusers want to seek redemption and Yun doesn't is because they weren't regularly abused by all their teachers then abandoned nearly killed, dragged into the spirit world for weeks and then denied help when they finally escaped.

Yun has to deal with all the trauma his abusers inflicted on him whereas, his abusers just have to deal with their own personal feelings of guilt. To prioritize their feelings and well-being over the pain of the person they hurt, and criticize Yun's response to his abuse is incredibly tone deaf of the book. If I saw my friend siding with my abusers and insisting that I was the problem I definitely wouldn't want to back down.

All of this to say there is an element to catharsis in every revenge story, to strike back at the people who hurt you. I also think it's wrong to insist victims be morally pure and blame them for lashing out. Especially for people like Kohaku and Yun where they have been pushed so far that revenge is the only thing that's giving them a reason to still live.

I also feel like it's incredibly tragic that Kohaku in particular can't envision any future for herself, or any escape from the pain of being a doll and the only way out of her situation is to hurt others. That Yun feels like all of the things he suffered were for nothing, and his dreams of helping people are all pointless and the only thing he can get is justice upon those who hurt something. That Yun is so damaged he threw away his desire to help people, which was a very significant part of who he is. It's the same with Kohaku, she's a very loving protector, she loves Akiha and Hisui very much but not only does she resolve to kill Akiha (something that ultimately destroys her in the long run) but she also has decided that Hisui is better off without her.

All of this to say that catharsis is an important element of any tragedy. Either individuals seeking catharsis, or the catharsis that's brought about by watching someone like Kohaku or Yun give into anguish and despair. The catharsis of seeing your own internal pain represented on stage. The catharsis of seeing characters lash out like you wish you could, or the catharsis of seeing a character react in a very human way and fall apart when we are often told that we have to be strong at all times and swallow our grief.

Tragedies operate on the principal of catharsis, this is outlined very well in Aristotle's poetics.

Catharsis is a metaphor used to describe the effects of true tagedy on the spectator (derived from the ter katharsis meaning purgation or pufication). The purpose of tragedy is to arouse "terror and pity" and thereby effect the catharsis of these emotions.

While purging something means getting rid of it, purifying something means getting rid of the worse or baser parts of it. It is possible that tragedy purifies the feelings themselves of fear and pity. These arise in us from the frustration of our real lives and the emotions we cannot cope with, which we then can vicariously experience through the characters in the stories we tell.

The catharsis in a revenge tragedy comes from both the horror we feel about the circumstances that pushed a person to their revenge, Yun's abuse by his teachers who he was so desperate to please, Kohaku's years of sexual abuse she had to endure to protect her sister. While at the same time it evokes pity for the people who are lashing out. Even if you condemn Kohaku for hurting others, most people's response is to want her to stop hurting otheres and swaddle her in a warm blanket instead. In fact Kohaku's ending is so sad, because both the reader and Shiki don't want to see a longeterm victim of sexual abuse kill herself because she believes there's no hope in living.

So even when revenge is temporarily satisfying in these stories and evokes catharsis, it's purging you of ugly emotions not positive ones. It's validating to see the hate and anger acted out by characters on the stage, but that's not like a good way to deal with your problems. Most revenge stories have characters at least partially succeed with their revenge. The count of monte cristo takes out most of his targets. Yun successfully kills Jianzhu. Kohaku is able to murder both of her rapists. Toya reveals his abuser's crimes on live television. Then it usually escalates to the revenge spiraling out of control, the Count almost kills a baby, Yun attacks a friend's mother (and he was right for that), Kohaku kills Akiha. Toya blames and decides to hurt Shoto who is completely innocent out of envy.

That's a tragedy though, you asked about the catharsis of watching straightforward revenge stories that don't depict the part two. That begin and end with the revenge, where revenge is the solution. Stories like Kill Bill or Maki Zen'in killing the Zen'in Clan where revenge is depicting as empowering.

I don't really have a problem with those stories even if they don't personally interest me. I definitely understand the enjoyment and escapist fantasy of being Toya and being able to hurt your abusers right back especially in a world where most abusers just get to walk away from what they did with little consequence. I also think there's a fine line between like, revenge, and just standing up for yourself and fighting back against your abusers and people confuse the latter for the former. They also get too preachy and expect victims to remain morally pure, and condemn any fighting back even when it's necessary for their survival.

I watch horror movies and my favorite genre of horror is slasher. Horror movies are known for their weirdly regressive politics at time. When I watch a horror movie I don't think that teens who have sex are morally impure and should be punished. I watch horror movies for catharsis too, to purge myself of fear. Not every slasher movie I watch is a deep analysis of horror, like say how The Shining has a lot to say about addiction and domestic violence. Sometimes I am just watching to see a bunch of teenagers get hunted down by a guy in a mask.

This is again a readily recognizable dramatic form, called the horror story, or in a recent fashion, the mad-slasher movie. The thrill of fear is the primary object of such amusements, and the story alternates between the build-up of apprehension and the shock of violence. Again, as with the tear-jerker, it doesn’t much matter whether it ends happily or with uneasiness, or even with one last shock, so indeterminate is its form. And while the tearjerker gives us an illusion of compassionate delicacy, the unrestrained shock-drama obviously has the effect of coarsening feeling. Genuine human pity could not co-exist with the so-called graphic effects these films use to keep scaring us. The attraction of this kind of amusement is again the thrill of strong feeling, and again the price of indulging the desire for that thrill may be high. [SOURCE]

Of course there's also the matter of genre and expectations. When I'm watching a horror story, I know what I'm getting into. I'm not bothered to see victims like Junpei die in Jujutsu Kaisen (even though I've written like a massive fanfiction AU where he lives) because I know I'm reading a horror story. Whereas, My Hero Academia killing its victims is incredibly tone deaf because it's supposed to be an optimistic manga about heroes saving people.

This is Jujutsu Kaisen, this is the manga gege would write if he were allowed to write in a seinen magazine.

Kyoshi killing Yun doesn't work at all because it clashes with the tone. The same book goes to great extents to redeem one of Yun's abusers who is an adult who chose to do all those things, but at the same time doesn't offer Yun the same chance, an orphaned child. It even comes off as punching down, because Kyoshi who we're supposed to believe is an ally to crimminals and outcasts like Daofei and grew up poor murders another orphaned child while giving a privileged rich noble lady like Hei-Ran a chance to redeem herself.

It's ridiculous that Endeavor faces no legal consequences except being forced to retire due to a career ending injury and still has the support of all of his sidekicks, Hawks and his wife, while Toya doesn't get the chance to redeem himself and gets a slow horrific death while hooked up to life support. Toya who was once again, a child, who was homeless and living on the streets for years while Endeavor was an extremely rich man and made the decision to purchase a bride and abuse his family as an adult.

Honestly, even though I'm against straightforward revenge I was rooting for Toga to kill Hawks because there was no other way he was going to face any consequences for his actions.

If I'm watching The Princess Bride I cheer when Inigo Montoya kills his enemy because I know I'm watching a fairy tale. Kill Bill is my least favorite Tarantino Movie (my favorite is Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, second favorite Inglorious Bastards) but I understand the appeal of people who do like it.

If people want to watch a simple revenge story for Catharsis that's totally fine. My tastes aren't much better my favorite genre of horror is slasher. On the other hand I think the problem arises when people who only watch stories for their personal catharsis or escapism don't allow room for other people's interpretations.

Like, if you don't think Azula deserves redemption because you deeply empathize with the way that she hurt Zuko go ahead. I don't have the right to tell you how to feel about certain characters. Abuse is also a touchy subject and the definition of abuse depends from person to person.

However, if I'm making a logical argument based upon the text Azula would make a logical next step in Zuko's redemption because one, the writing goes out of its way to show that Zuko had a support system in Iroh and the others and Azula never had that same support system. Two, it's a parallel for Iroh redeeming himself by coming to care for Zuko and being that support. Three, it's Zuko showing his emotional growth by giving someone else the chance to redeem themselves just like he was shown that chance. Four one of Azula's main writers Aaron Ehasz literally said that's what they would have written if they got a season 4 greenlit.

If you come onto my post and be like "No, I don't think Azula deserves redemption. Zuko doesn't owe her shit." I can't argue with that.

That's just like... your opinion man.

So, if you read straight up revenge stories for catharsis, I am glad you are reading something that makes you happy. If it helps you feel validated for your emotions then that's great! I just think everyone should be mindful of the fact that people look for different things in stories. I personally don't just read stories for what makes me feel good, I like stories that challenge you. Which is why I like the idea of Zuko having to learn to forgive Azula, because it's more challenging than the simple answer of "Zuko should just cut all the abusers out of his life." If you think that Zuko should be able to cut her off though like I said that's just like your opinion man.

[swordofsun]

One of the things I have discussed ad nauseum with @ilarual and @mybrainproblems is how Dean doesn't give John a denouncement in Lebanon because he doesn't need to give John a denouncement. He's already done it. Just because John wasn't there doesn't mean it didn't serve the same purpose for Dean.

Yes, I'm talking about 03x10 Dream A Little Dream Of Me:

DREAM DEAN

Dad knew who you really were. A good soldier and nothing else. Daddy's blunt little instrument.

(angry)

Your own father didn't care whether you lived or died. Why should you?

DEAN

(angry)

Son of a bitch!

DEAN pushes DREAM DEAN hard, knocking him into the wall above the desk.

DEAN

(screaming angrily)

My father was an obsessed bastard!

DREAM DEAN tries to get up and DEAN kicks him down on the desk again. DEAN holds the weapon as a bat and hits DREAM DEAN once and then pins him to the wall with it.

DEAN

All that crap he dumped on me, about protecting Sam! That was his crap. He's the one who couldn't protect his family. He-

DEAN steps back and swings the weapon again, hitting DREAM DEAN twice.

DEAN

He's the one who let Mom die.

DEAN pins DREAM DEAN again.

DEAN

– who wasn't there for Sam. I always was! He wasn't fair! I didn't deserve what he put on me.

He backs away from DREAM DEAN.

DEAN

And I don't deserve to go to Hell!*

The catharsis is admitting that John was unfair and expected too much. It doesn't actually need to be said to John. This is stuff Dean needs to acknowledge in himself. To accept and move forward with that knowledge. It's finally verbalized this that allows him to admit to Sam that he doesn't want to die and he doesn't want to go to hell.

But I also realized today that Dean does also get that yelling at John moment. He just doesn't get to remember it until 04x15 when Tessa gives him back his memories of 02x01.

JOHN is sitting by DEAN'S bed; !DEAN STANDS NEARBY.

!DEAN

Come on, Dad. You've gotta help me. I've gotta get better, I've gotta get back in there. I mean, you haven't called a soul for help. You haven't even tried. Aren't you going to do anything? Aren't you even going to say anything?

(he starts walking around the bed)

I've done everything you have ever asked me. Everything. I have given everything I've ever had. And you're just going to sit there and you're going to watch me die? I mean, what the hell kind of father are you?**

And, again, it doesn't matter that John doesn't hear any of this. Because it's not for John. It's for Dean. Dean's the one who needed to acknowledge everything John did to him. And he does. He just doesn't have the need to then talk about it with other people or waste the short period of time he has with John in Lebanon hashing over stuff he's already dealt with.

He even gets an acknowledgment from John that he was wrong to raise Dean the way he did. He just followed it up by giving Dean one last shitty order. But he still does say:

JOHN

You know, when you were a kid, I'd come home from a hunt, and after what I'd seen, I'd be, I'd be wrecked. And you, you'd come up to me and you, you'd put your hand on my shoulder and you'd look me in the eye and you'd... You'd say "It's okay, Dad"

(pauses)

Dean, I'm sorry.

DEAN

What?

JOHN

You shouldn't have had to say that to me, I should have been saying that to you. You know, I put, I put too much on your shoulders, I made you grow up too fast. You took care of Sammy, you took care of me. You did that, and you didn't complain, not once. I just want you to know that I am so proud of you.**

By the time Lebanon comes around he's dealt with all this crap. He's had his moments of yelling about the unfairness of it all. He's dealt with his issues around Mary making the deal in the first place and not leaving them any warnings or explanations.***

Lebanon is about healing an old hurt that's been festering since he was 4 years old. It's giving him one last happy family meal. Why would he ruin that by yelling at John about things he's already dealt with?

SAM

How did this happen?

DEAN

I-I-I don’t know. You said that the – the pearl gives you what your heart desires, right? So, my heart desired – I – I’ve wanted this, man. I’ve – I’ve wanted this since I was 4 years old.

SAM

Okay, I know, and I-I-I-I love this, too, Dean. I do, honestly, but – but messing with time –

DEAN

No, no, no, Sam.

SAM

You know how this ends. Things change.

DEAN

Yeah, great – we got our family back together. I’ll take that change.

SAM

That’s not what I mean.

DEAN

Stop. Just stop, okay? Look, can – can we just have one family dinner? Just one? Us – all of us together. That’s all I want. Can you just give me that?****

I think sometimes people get so focused on what they'd like to see that they forget what would actually make sense for the characters. Dean's had his denouncements and Lebanon is about reaffirming his happiness on where he is now.

JOHN

No, son. My fight. It was supposed to end with me, with Yellow Eyes. But now you – you are a grown man, and I am incredibly proud of you. I guess that I had hoped, eventually, you would… get yourself a normal life, a peaceful life, a family.

[DEAN nods. He smiles.]

DEAN

I have a family.****

*03x10 Transcript

**02x01 Transcript

***See 12x22 Who We Are

****14x13 Transcript

[mr-and-mr-diaz]

Eddie's Character Arc This Season and Why I Have Issue With It:

Eddie Diaz has been going through some character arcs, and the way they're treated and the accompanying lobotomies transitions have me concerned. Here's why:

The mustache arc: We never had moments with Eddie alone with the mustache that gave us clues as an audience of his motivations for it, how it represented him hiding and denying himself joy. It means that the whole moment with the priest was, frankly a ridiculous amount of "tell" instead of "show", and it also means that when he shaved it off, instead of feeling incredible catharsis as an audience, we were like "okay then, cool for him, I suppose." That needed to be set up and executed WAY better

Additionally, making the mustache the punchline of multiple jokes instead of giving Eddie serious moments with people who love him to address it was a huge mistake and a disservice not just to him but to the other characters--the way Bobby interrupted Eddie's heart-to-heart to make a jab at the mustache? OOC for both of them, and such a slap in the face to Bobby's relationship and rapport with Eddie. In Eddie's shoes, after that, I wouldn't go to Bobby for advice again. This was so MCU-snappy-humor coded I wanted to throw up.

Can the writers please stop treating Eddie's Stoic Caretaker personality as if it's a fatal character flaw? It's who he is as a person, both for good reasons and bad, and it's one of the main things that makes him so endearing as a character. Does he take it too far and forget himself sometimes? For sure, but that doesn't mean he should shed the whole thing like old snake skin and become someone else--a more self-interested, constantly emoting, abandoning-his-friends kind of Eddie.

On a more personal note, I really hate the general idea of media making characters so self-interested, telling audiences that the way to be a better person is to stick your head up your own ass and wait for the sun to rise in there. It won't. And meanwhile it's very hard for us an audience to like the character, in the same way that in real life we don't like selfish, self-congratulatory people.

Eddie going on an arc where he finds the balance between being there for himself and being there for others? Awesome, as long as they don't keep leaning into this "funny, punch-line Eddie" that the writers have been leaning into that isn't like Eddie AT ALL. Can he be goofy? Yes, especially when he's doped up on Funny Brownies. But Eddie's brand of goofy is VERY different from what they've been trotting out lately, and while making him Mr. Funny Guy, they've also been demoting his personality from stoic and in control to this over-emotive mess. It actually reminds me of what they did to Sherlock (in BBC's Sherlock). A little character transition is great, a complete lobotomy? Like who is this man?

Anyway, thanks for listening to my Ted Talk, and I'd love your thoughts on this--what do you think?

[eleanorfenyx]

I have finished Mysterious Lotus Casebook, and here are some of my thoughts! (Obviously not spoiler free)

The cases are absolutely batshit insane and I loved it every single time they were like 'we totally collected this evidence that incriminates a secret suspect, just believe us and also don't question when the fuck we had the time to do this or when we figured out that we needed to look for it'. 10/10 no notes, that's a hilarious way to have a genius detective. Show us nothing, tell us everything, YES king.

That being said, I could have done with a lot less standing around having the supporting cast repeat whatever Li Lianhua and Fang Duobing announce, maybe in an attempt to make sure their genius is clear for the audience? I get it, but at the same time it felt a little too hand-holdy for me, especially in scenes where LLH and FDB had already discussed their findings between themselves before presenting them to the concerned bystanders. I can read between the lines (or else understand what has just been explicitly stated) without having every conclusion filtered through a slightly different sentence structure to make sure I got it.

Di Feisheng amnesia arc my fuckin beloved

Di Feisheng destroying his 'father' and freeing everyone in Di manor in a vicious act of catharsis that tied nicely into the main Nanyin bug-mind-control-thing narrative my beloved

Di Feisheng my beloved

The amount of times I was like...genuinely surprised he and Li Lianhua didn't kiss is both embarrassing (because I do in fact understand censorship and what I sign up for with these dramas and yet and yet) and numerous enough that I could...possibly...theoretically..write a 5+1 fic of every time I want them to kiss about it. No one hold me to that but it's something I think I'd like to do.

Re: the above point: because what the FUCK was that ending?!!! EXCUSE ME?! I gotta FIX THAT SHIT.

There will come a day when the strength of my hope for an unambiguously happy ending in a queer(-coded? is the source originally bl or is this its own thing?) wuxia drama is rewarded....but it is not this day. I must fix this myself.

Jiao Liqiao's laugh is one of the most annoying things I've ever heard. I was reaaaaally hoping someone would just up and stab her during one of her little evil laughing fits. At one point I was shouting "KILL HER, KILL HER" at my screen because I could NOT take anymore of her (unfortunately, I did in fact have to take more of her).

I still think her insistence on being obsessed with DFS is hysterical when he is so VISIBLY only interested in LLH. Explicitly STATES that his only life purpose is to fuck fight LLH again. Babygirl (derogatory) he is so fucking gay let's get you a nice knife to the gut instead, okay?

I thought the whole Shan Gudao plot was interesting, going from looking desperately for his body -> putting him to rest -> hunting for his murderer -> finding out he's alive/the mastermind behind everything going wrong (which I was proud of myself for realizing before the reveal, I'm normally bad at that) -> thwarting him with sass and superior martial arts at every possible turn -> killing him stone fuckin dead with beginner level skills because he's so up his own hole he can't see that's what's happening - was really fun!

He also has a SUPER annoying laugh he can fuck off

OH OH OH MARTIAL ARTS SKILL OF TRANS YOUR GENDER?! I MARRIED HER SO HER AFFAIRS ARE MY BUSINESS NOT YOURS??? ASKING YOUR WIFE FOR HER FORGIVENESS AND UNDERSTANDING AS YOU LAY DYING AND SHE GIVES IT TO YOU?????? OKAYYYYYYY

The twist at the end that LLH is the one with royal blood was so funny to me. Like it's a good twist and I love that Shan Gudao was just quite literally always a fuckin try-hard loser in ways he didn't even know, but also it was SO funny. Granny coming in clutch at the last fuckin minute with secret knowledge she just literally never shared.

LLH is such a smooth motherfucker. Shame about his insistence on dying when quite literally everyone (bar the people who suck) is begging this man to just live. Just LIVE DAMN IT!!!!! I really liked it when FDB begs him to just consider his own life as important for ONCE and remember that people care about him because YES his self-sacrificing and committment to Chilling Out Farmer Style was not the mercy he thought it was!

LIVE AND GROW OLD WITH DI FEISHENG YOU DAMN IDIOT (the likelihood of me resisting the urge to write at least the one fic for them is zero to none)

Unironically love spitting up blood as a plot device and this show is no different. The Drama. The Panache. The desperation of everyone around you because you have BLOOD coming out of your MOUTH and you are FAINTING. Poison acting up? Spit blood. Someone bitch slap you with their magical palm ability? Spit blood. Get stressed? Spit blood. Get stabbed? Spit blood. It's always good!

Okay I think that might be all I've got for now, if I think of anything else I'll add them in a reblog. I thoroughly enjoyed it, would definitely recommend!

[imnotasuperhero]

Some feelings, they can travel too.

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Sometimes, the greatests love stories come to an end.

TW: Cancer, grieving, major character death. A doze of smut just to add to the angst (I set it in cursive, so you can scroll past it if you don’t mind the little bits of feels)

A/N: My dudes. I don’t know what to tell you. I’m here once again with a request that was too hard to decline since it hits home and I thought it might work for some overdue catharsis. I cried my eyes out resulting in a headache, so pardon any mistakes I made. I’ve been working on this for several hours and babysitting a 3 y/o is no calm job. Hope you enjoy this over 6k monster of mine (I reached anotehr milestone and I couldn’t be prouder) And like I say, if I hurt, it’s only fair you do, too.

Looking up at the imponent building in front of her, Wanda readjusted the straps of her backpack and followed the commands of her twin, doing some breathing exercises to calm her erratic heart.

Being the new kid at school was never something Wanda enjoyed, no matter how many times she had to transfer thanks to her dearest father. She hated feeling so small and the fact that she wasn’t the best at making friends did nothing to ease her anxiety.

“Come on, Wanda!” Pietro grunted annoyed, backing his steps and grabbing her hand to drag her along.

“Do you even know where we’re going?” Wanda sighed, trying to escape his tight grip to no avail.

“I do. And if we don’t hurry, we’re gonna miss our first period.” At the annoyance tinting his voice, Wanda decided to shut her mouth and follow him to the reception.

After getting each of their class schedules, the twins headed back through the path they walked.

“Okay, your classroom is at the next hall, third-”

“I heard what the lady said. I know where to go,” Wanda rolled her eyes at the need to punch her exasperating brother.

“Okay then, I’ll see you in the next period,” Pietro kissed the top of her head, trotting towards his own class.

Looking through the small window of the door, Wanda could feel the baby hairs of her neck spiking up at the new faces unaware of her presence.

‘Please, may this year be nice,’ She begged silently to whoever God was out there.

Wanda had to remind herself not to run the small distance that separated the teacher’s desk from the door at the numerous heads turning to her simultaneously.

“Hi,” Wanda handed the white schedule to Mr. Chadman -as she read in the tag at the door. “I’m Wanda.”

The old man inspected the paper for a few seconds and nodded quietly. “Welcome, Wanda. Please be seated and enjoy.” He gave her a smile that reminded her of her late grandpa.

Looking over the classroom, she walked hunchedly to the only seat free, beside some girl with unique glasses.

“Hi,” said girl gave her a toothy smile, making Wanda smile. “Name’s Y/N,” she turned back to doodle something on the blank page of the boy behind her before fully turning to the front. Her head leaned to her expectantly.

“I’m Wanda,” the brunette mumbled as she took a seat and slowly took her books, as if trying to seem unbothered by the stare burning the side of her body.

“It’s not all the time we get new students,” you said in a whisper, for Mr. Chadman had started the lesson already. “Where are you from?”

“Um… Sokovia,” Wanda braced herself expecting the typical questions that followed, but gasped when you surprised her.

“That’s near the Czech Republic, right?” You asked thoughtfully.

“Yep,” Wanda couldn’t help but smile. Maybe this won’t be a hard year, after all.

The rest of the school day was spent with minor inconveniences, except for Pietro’s teasing when he found out she might have made a friend.

Thought that was confirmed when she heard a familiar voice calling over her. 

Looking to her left, she saw you standing on a table waving at her with that characteristic smile she learned to like.

“Hi,” Wanda smiled timidly at the 6 smiling faces staring at her.

“Guys, she’s Wanda. Wands, they’re… my friends,” you giggled sitting back down, scooting over to leave room for Wanda.

“Natasha,” the redhead spoke, sending daggers to you, to which you just threw a small piece of bread at her. “Nice to meet you,” she now turned to Wanda, showing her white smile.

“How’s school treating you?” The tall, brunette boy sitting adjacent to her spoke next. “I’m Bucky, by the way.”

Before Wanda could answer you gasped, earning your friend's attention.

“Right! Wands, he’s from near your country,” you smiled brightly, almost excited.

“Wait. Where you from?” His blue eyes lighted up expectantly.

“Sokovia,” Wanda dried her sweaty hands on her jeans, gathering all the confidence she could muster.

“Not that near, but I'll take it!” Bucky raised his hand.

Laughing at the glee plastered on his face, Wanda high-fived him.

The passing days had Wanda relaxing by the minute as it seemed she had met the right people thanks to you. Granted you all could be a little too much for her to handle, but she was expectant of what this school year could bring to her.

What she didn’t expect though, was discovering you in a new light as you busied yourself with a well-used notepad. Be it because of curiosity or something she wasn’t familiar with, she wasn’t able to take her eyes off you for the past few minutes.

“What are you working on?” Wanda scooted over, sitting beside you on your bed. “Seems like your life depends on it.”

Pausing for a second, you sighed calmly as you turned to look at her. “Remember how you told me you loved to sing but you sucked at writing your own songs?” You asked cheerfully.

“Yes,” Wanda’s face contorted into one of suspicion. 

“Well, I’m finishing a song you might like to-”

“You what?” Wanda all but took the notepad from your hands, reading through the black letters contrasting against the white pages.

“As I was saying, I thought you’d like to participate in next month’s talent show.

“I- No.” Wanda shook her head. “Not happening.”

“But why,” you whined, taking her hand in yours and Wanda felt an electricity wave travel up her arm. “You have a beautiful voice and it’s unfair the world doesn’t know it.”

“I appreciate your willingness in sharing your talent with me and I love this song already. But I don’t sing in public.”

“You really like my song?” You asked, your eye shining with something Wanda couldn’t put her finger on.

“Are you kidding? It’s amazing!” Wanda smiled proudly.

“Thanks,” you looked down, but Wanda could notice the rosy tint in your cheeks. But as soon as the shyness came, your stance was taken over by mischief.

“Tell you what,”

“Oh, no. I know that look and I don’t want-”

“But Wanda! I promise it’s a good thing!” You pleaded and Wanda could only sigh.

“Okay,” you paused confidently. “You sing this song in the talent’s show and I show you the tons of songs I’ve written.” 

“Absolutely not.” Wanda nodded in the negative repeatedly.

“But Waaaaaands!” You whined deeply, conjuring the best pout you could, and Wanda only raised her perfectly sculpted eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.

“Besides, you dream of being a famous singer,” you continued when the silence had stretched for way too long. “How you’d make it if you don’t get out of your comfort zone?”

Wanda hated when you used her future to have it your way. But if she was being honest, she knew the day would come sooner or later, so she closed her eyes, inhaling deeply.

“You better show me all of them,” Wanda laughed joyfully when you threw yourself at her, hugging her.

“I knew you’d come to your senses.” You spoke toothily, looking down at her comfortable smile.

But said smile turned into a thin line when Wanda realized how close you were. So close she could feel your small breaths colliding against her lips like a needed breeze on a hot summer day.

Poking your side, Wanda scurried from under you. “You’re squeezing me,” 

“Blandy,” you rolled your eyes, sitting up.

“I- That’s not a wo-”

“I’m the creator here,” you shrugged her off to which Wanda poked her tongue at you.

The following weeks passed in a blur as you both worked on the song Wanda would sing. Long nights on the weekends turned into a constant between you two and Wanda couldn’t help the peace she felt when you were by her side. Despite the bubbly, -hyperactive at times, charming persona you held, you were like a soothing balm to her conflicted insides, silently healing the wounds her demons left her with.

“I can’t do it.” Wanda panicked, turning to her best friend.

“You can and you will,” you grabbed her by the shoulders, making sure her eyes stayed locked with yours, making Wanda hold her breath for a little longer than necessary. “I believe in you, Wands. You’ll do great!”

“What if-”

“Nope. I’m forbidding you to go there.” You chastised. “You said you trusted me, right?”

“Always,” she answered nervously.

“Then believe in yourself, babe. You’re capable of amazing things if you just cross the line,” you smiled comfortingly, fighting Wanda’s inner shadows away.

With those words, Wanda hugged you before she stepped onto the stage after hearing her name, adjusting her guitar trying to avoid the public’s eyes.

Looking at you one last time with your supportive smile grazing your features, Wanda faced the crowd with her eyes closed as her fingers played the right chords expertly.

Picture a place where it all doesn't hurt

Where everything's safe and it doesn't get worse

Oh my

We see through bloodshot eyes

Wanda’s soft voice accompanied the soothing notes from her guitar, creating a spell that hypnotized everyone in the room.

Jump with me, come with me, burn like the sun

We'll talk, then we'll cry, then we'll laugh 'til we're done

Oh my

It's like we're out our minds

We've been runnin' for our lives

We've been hidin' from the light

We've been far too scared to fight

For what we want tonight

Wanda dared to open her eyes as she gained the confidence needed and smiled something proud at the faces full of calm in front of her.

Close your eyes and leave it all behind

Go where love is on our side

It's a trust fall, baby

It's a trust fall, baby

By the time Wanda realizes she’s been staring at you, the last few chords come to its end. Feeling her heart burning from something she wasn’t sure of, Wanda played the last note smiling as everyone clapped and cheered at her. The adrenaline of the moment took over her, making her run to you after she walked off the stage.

“That was amazing!” Wanda giggled, closing her arms tightly around you.

“You are amazing,” you stood there, patiently holding her.

Breaking the hug, Wanda looked at your eye and felt the fire inside her burn stronger at the utter pride she found.

Before she could react, her lips touched yours, like a magnetic force dragging you together.

“I’m sorry,” she freaked when she realized what she just did. But the dreadful feeling disappeared when this time, you leaned forward, kissing her painfully slowly.

Smiling through the kiss, Wanda encircled her arms around your neck as you hugged her waist, bringing your bodies impossibly closer.

“Let me take you on a date?” You smiled when you parted for much-needed air.

“I would love that,” Wanda smiled as calmly as you, hugging you one last time hiding her face in the process, as she heard the voices of your friends nearing at a fast pace with the promise of celebrating after the show.

The stars shining over reminded you how small you were. Your small body was nothing compared to the cold rocks twinkling up in the black sky and a pang wounded your heart as Wanda shifted beside you, feeling the right side of your face burning under her intense gaze.

“Can I ask something?” Wanda’s voice was barely audible, afraid to break the calm.

Turning your head, you leaned forward pecking her lips. “Go ahead.”

“Why there’s a tinted side on your glasses?”

Closing your eyes, you sighed defeatedly. You knew it was too good to be true. Yet, you wished for the ask to never come.

“I’m blind in my left eye,” you pursed your lips, awaiting a reaction.

The gasp that escaped Wanda’s lips had you bracing yourself for the worst. You weren’t ready to give up on this living dream.

Before you could dwell too much into your sadness, Wanda’s hand cupped your cheek, as if inspecting her following actions were safe.

The burning sensation you felt on your left cheek started to prickle upwards your face as slender fingers were dragged agonizingly softly -a featherlight touch, really. Your breath stopped mid-exhale as Wanda lifted your glasses, caressing the skin beside your eye. You were thankful for the dark of the night around you, making it harder for Wanda to notice what could easily shine with the light.

As Wanda’s intense gaze shifted from one eye to the other, you closed your eyes to stop the forming tears. But what happened next had you choking a cry as Wanda kissed your broken eye and you could only wrap your arms around her waist as you hid your face in the crook of her neck, trying unsuccessfully to hide your pain.

“Detka,” Wanda mumbled with her lips against your head.

Seeing you did not move, Wanda just stood there, holding you at a weird angle that provided you the comfort you needed and you silently thanked her. You weren’t ready for this part of your story to see the light and being honest, you didn’t think you’d ever will.

“Detka,” the brunette tried once again after a few moments. This time, you complied. And the look you saw in those green eyes had you inhaling sharply.

“What happened?” She asked, combing some locks off your forehead.

“I had an accident when I was little,” you lied. “I was helping my dad with a project and a splinter got in my eye, leaving it useless.” You spoke confidently, having used the lie for so long.

“It suits you,” Wanda winked and you laughed something small, appreciating the fact she didn’t pity you. Or that she didn’t show it if she did.

“Can I have my glasses again, please?” 

“You can,” Wanda carefully placed your glasses in its place, kissing your nose to move to your lips.

Humming at the contact, you allowed yourself to relax for the time being. More than ever, you decided to live your life the best way you could without thinking of the looming ghost over you.

It was a Wednesday when the fact you were a few weeks away from graduating high school hit you. And with that, the rainy day felt even more gloomy as the thought of another milestone so close, yet so far away given the condition you were in.

But that thought was pushed to the back of your mind when the honking car outside signaled your ride had arrived.

You had planned to go bowling with your friends as the last gathering before finals started the following week, determined to cherish every single second you had with the people you loved.

That’s how you found yourself fighting with your left shoe as the lights were dimmed.

“Let me,” Natasha squatted in front of you, making a quick job of your shoelaces.

“Thanks,” you smiled toothily, hooking your arms together as you walked to your friends a few feet away rooting for each one of the Maximoff twins in some game you didn’t care to pay attention to.

Once everyone was in your booth, you started the game as Pietro decided he was going first.

The afternoon was filled with laughter and playful banter and you couldn’t be happier having your friends and your girlfriend by your side.

“You’re up,” Bucky cheered you. “Show speedster how we do it,” he winked, causing you all to laugh while Pietro grumbled something you couldn’t hear.

Walking to the line, you chose the purple ball and measured your distance with precision. Balancing forth and back until you felt confident enough, you sprint to the limit line throwing the rolling ball as hard as you could.

“Wooh!” Wanda and Natasha cheered as you dropped all the pines in one shoot.

You smiled proudly as you walked back to your friends, waiting for Pietro’s commentary.

“Pretty impressive for having one eye,” he rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed that you were leading the charts.

“Who says I just have one?” You frowned, hiding the giggle in your voice. “Tony gave me a bionic eye.” You shrugged, earning a chorus of ‘ooh’s’ from the youngsters.

“What!” Pietro looked shocked at the boy adjacent to him.

“What can I say? I like helping my friends,” Tony high-fived you as you sat beside him.

That night you held onto the toilet bowl as if your life depended on it with Wanda holding your short hair up in a ponytail as you had woken up with a sudden need to empty your guts.

“What can I do?” Wanda asked on the verge of tears as she never stopped the circling patterns on your back.

“It’s okay, love.” You sighed deeply as you stood up on wobbly legs. “It was the fried egg, probably,” you opened the mouthwash and gargled the nasty taste away.

Turning around, you couldn’t help but hug your girlfriend at seeing her so small. It was at that exact moment that you knew you did good in not telling her the truth.

“I don’t like seeing you sick,” the brunette pouted.

“Having you by my side makes it bearable,” you kissed her nose. Something that had become usual between you both whenever the other needed reassurance.

“Come on, let’s go back to bed,” you encircled her waist with your right arm, walking her to the bed.

The next minutes were spent in silence, enjoying each other’s warmth. Until the air around you started to weigh.

“Penny for your thoughts?” You turned to the body beside you.

“You think we’ll make it?” Wanda’s voice trembled and you felt your heart constrict at the not-so-positive prospect of your life.

Raising your hand to her face, you allowed your fingers to caress her soft skin, tracing her features with the lightest of touch, admiring her natural beauty and the dreamy way her eyes shone with the moonlight casted over her.

“It’s just college, baby,” you reassured her, pecking her lips.

“Far away schools,” she pouted something that had you all mushy.

Pausing, you decided to bite the bullet. “I was waiting till graduation,” you sat up, rummaging through your nightstand until you found the black velvety box. 

You smiled softly at the choked gasp that left Wanda’s mouth as her eyes landed over the small square.

Opening the cube, you took out the small chain, holding it between your faces, absorbing all of Wanda’s emotion at that moment.

“Oh my,” Wanda grabbed the silver object, smiling watery at the pendants in her trembling hand.

“I know how much music means to you and is no secret it’s what bonded us,” you spoke calmly. “This is a reminder that no matter how far we are, we’ll always be connected.”

You quietly admired Wanda’s eyes glued to both musical notes, the eighth note hanging lower than the sixteenth note.

“Thank you,”

The sudden weight on top of you had you laughing as Wanda peppered your face with kisses while she repeated the same two words after every kiss.

“I love you,” the brunette cried with a smile before she locked your lips against hers in a searing promise. Of what, you didn’t know; but you surely won’t stop her for anything in the world.

But what started as an innocent kiss filled with promises of a future you might never see, shifted to something passionate that burned your body from the inside out and the clothes hugging your body started to suffocate you.

“Wands,” you moaned as your hands toyed with the end of her shirt.

The brunette sat quickly, discarding the clothing on the floor and you couldn’t help admiring the pale skin that invited you to emboss random patterns on its surface. And you did.

Your hands cupped her breasts, massaging them gently as you sat up to meet her lips, drawing out her moans.

At the tug on your shirt, you parted to take it off before you attacked her lips once again, grabbing her waist to guide her against your cunt, enjoying the every sinful sound that escaped her mouth.

Not having enough, you rolled over, landing on her as you started to trail wet kisses down her body, applying everything you learned during these three years, determined to allow her to remind you when your time had come. 

The primal moan she mouthed when you bite on her hip bone had your hunger increasing ten times. 

“Detka, please,” Wanda grunted in a gasp, bucking her hips up trying to find what she needed.

Grazing the tip of your nose against her mons pubis, you inhaled her intoxicating essence.

If the sound Wanda freed were sinful, the guttural sob she gifted you with when your tongue lapped at her folds had you in paradise.

Repeating the action once, then twice, you gathered as much wetness as you could, moaning between every lick. As if you licked your favorite lollipop after a bitter taste.

Deciding to finally give her what she wanted, your kisses ascended up, wetting every single patch of skin you could reach, smiling at the neediness of her voice.

“I need you,” she cried as she grabbed your head and brought you to her level, devouring your lips just to moan when she tasted herself.

Taking advantage of her dizzy state, you pumped three fingers inside of her as her head rolled back breathing something so sinful that you thought you’d been cursed for life, and you didn’t complain. Moving your digits in and out of her entrance at a slow pace you groaned at how tight she felt.

“You feel so good,” you praised. “Taking me so well.” Wanda could only moan at your words, too focused on matching your movements.

Sitting up, you stilled her with your free hand, never stopping your action as you looked down at her. The immaculate way in which her body writhed under you was something you could never forget. The perfect shifts in her face’s muscles with every pleasure you provided her had you wishing for your reality to change. You wanted nothing more than to live forever just to have her this way. A vulnerable mess under your touch, trusting you her soul.

Muffling a painful cry, you leaned over to kiss her devil’s lips, hoping the knot in your throat would go away.

“I love you forever,” you cried as you increased your pace, feeling her walls clenching around your fingers. Your hips pushed your hand deeper inside her as your fingers curled up, hitting the right spot.

“Oh, fuck.” Wanda cried arching her back, unaware of your inner turmoil.

“Cum for me, love,” you commanded, stilling your shivering voice.

She didn’t need much more than a few extra pumps to cum all over your fingers, panting her way down the high.

Opening her eyes, the lust in those green orbs turned into concern as she looked at you.

“Why the tears?” She asked, bringing you to lay on top of her.

‘I’m dying’ “I love you,” you sobbed, placing your ear on her chest, desperate to hear her heartbeats full of life. 

It was all so unfair. You deserved a lifetime with the love of your life. You deserve to have a family and to grow old with the woman that had stolen your heart out of the blue. You deserved to see her in white walking down the aisle. You deserved to see her achieve her dreams.

But all you had was a sand clock emptying itself by the minute and an excruciating pain taking over your stiff body. Breathing was becoming harder and harder as the will in you fought in vain to win a war you had lost time ago.

Wanda’s sobs joined yours as she hugged you tighter, unaware of the fact that the love of her life was nearing the end of her path.

The morning came and you were thankful Wanda didn’t comment on your breakdown from the previous night, for if she did, you weren’t sure you’d be able to keep the lie much longer. You knew she deserved the know, but you also knew she’d be willing to glue herself by your side and give up on her desires, and you never wanted to be that person. She deserved to fly and you could only support her with pride.

The following weeks provided little time for you and Wanda to spend time together since finals were kicking all your asses. But Wanda consoled herself knowing that you all would celebrate after graduation, proud of having achieved a milestone together. That and the prospect of having you for herself the whole summer had her squeezing her fuel tank to no end.

To say all of you had nailed the exams was an understatement as your glasses clinked together on your designated booth.

“I can’t believe we did it, guys!” Natasha smiled toothily, proud of herself.

“Next step, a week off at my beach house,” Tony proposed, earning all of your cheers.

“You sure your parents will let us all together?” Steve raised an eyebrow, always the reasonable one.

“They will. Leave it to me,” Tony winked.

“Make sure you don’t bring any toys,” you smirked as everyone laughed at the memories of last summer’s escapade.

“You wound me,” Tony faked being hurt.

Wanda’s hand rested on your bare thigh, smiling peacefully as she enjoyed the banter between you all. 

Her mind took her back to the first day at school when she prayed before entering your classroom and she silently thanked all the gods out there for having you in her life. With your differences and disagreements, all of you conformed a tight-knotted group that she was sure would last a lifetime.

Kissing your cheek softly, she stood up with both your empty glasses in hand, walking to the bar for a refill.

“You’re Wanda, right?” A tall brunette took her out of her reverie.

“Yes,” Wanda frowned as she waited for her beers.

“I’m Maria. Maria Hill,” the lady introduced herself, stretching her hand. Once Wanda accepted it, she continued. “I saw you on stage the other day and I’ve been waiting to meet you,” her words had Wanda’s attention.

“I’m a music producer and I know how to spot talent,” she explained. “I’d like you to sing at the upcoming festival next month.” 

“Are you serious?” Wanda’s eyes opened wide at the offer the woman was giving her.

“Dead serious,” Maria nodded curtly. “If the public likes you, we can talk business.” She handed her a business card. “Call me if you’re interested.”

With that, the woman smiled politely and walked away, leaving Wanda in a frozen state until Tom called her name.

“Warm beer doesn’t taste good,” the young man smirked.

“Right. But did you hear what she said?” Wanda’s smile grew bigger by the second.

“The only way is up,” he winked before moving to another customer.

Wanda walked back to your booth in an ecstasy state after the short encounter. She could be signed up.

Feeling your eyes on her, she looked at you, unable to hide her happiness.

“I’ll tell you later,” she mumbled to you, kissing your cheek and you smiled contently.

To say you were excited was an understatement. When Wanda told you about her offer you didn’t pause to think about your words.

“You should’ve said yes!” You smiled toothily with your own body vibrating from happiness and Wanda couldn’t help giggling at your reaction.

“I was kinda shocked,” she scrunched her nose.

“My baby is getting famous!” You launched yourself at her and Wanda burst out laughing at your eagerness.

You’ve always been her biggest supporter. Always by her side in whichever gig she got and always fighting the anxiety that sometimes took the best of her.

She’ll never forget when she showed you her first song. Your eye had lighted up like the fourth of July and the pride reflected in it had her insides warming up. And the jokes of having to quit your job but still waiting to get paid had her stomach flipping at the wondering of how you’d celebrate this time when she told you she accepted to play at the festival.

But all of that flew off her mind when she got the call from Natasha saying you’d been admitted into the hospital.

All her dreams and wishes shifted into one. 

‘Please, may you be safe’ she begged to any deity willing to hear her.

Stomping through the hospital doors, she rushed to the front desk asking for your whereabouts, just to sprint the two floors that separated you both.

The air filling her lungs had become toxic and it hurt to breathe. Her trembling legs burned from the sudden running from the parking lot to your hospital bed.

“Detka!” Wanda cried entering room 274.

What she saw had her heart jumping on freefall down a cliff.

Your weakened form looked at her without the life that was so characteristic of you. All the little traits that adorned your happy features were erased as if they never existed.

Her legs menaced to give away and she wasn’t strong enough to fight back. Knees collided against the cold floor as her hand grabbed yours as if the act alone would transmit to you some of her light.

“Detka,” she sobbed as her world started to tumble.

“It’s gonna be okay,” you spoke calmly as your free hand cupped her cheek.

She placed her hand over yours, holding it tightly as she tried to understand.

Two days ago you were laughing gleefully about your vacation together and now… now you looked like a ghost.

“Come here,” you commanded weakly as you scooted over and Wanda didn’t need to think twice.

Careful not to step on any IV, she cuddled against you, choking at the warmth barely existent.

“What- Why,” she cried defeatedly as she crumpled your hospital gown in her hand.

Your arms held her trembling body, spasming with every sob that escaped her. Kissing your head, you mumbled against her. “My eye,” was all your broken voice allowed to communicate.

“It wasn’t an accident. Was it?” She should’ve caught the signs. The random sickness and the vomiting, all had an explanation she was too oblivious to note. 

“It’s a retinoblastoma,” you paused, trying to steady your voice. “It had reached the majority of my organs,” you tightened your hold and Wanda’s soul cried with her at the barely change in strength.

“You can’t leave me!” She screamed between sobs. “You- You’ve- You have promised me,” her whole face contorted as another pang ran through her heart.

The news had left her weak to speak, so she stood there, laying by your side in your hospital bed, crying her pain away as she tried to process how her life would change soon. You were slipping through her fingers and she could do nothing about it other than see you leave.

“I’m gonna call Maria and cancel-”

“What?” You cut her off, looking down at her.

She sat in bed, sighing at the refusal from her body. “You’re dying,” she groaned.

“That doesn’t mean you have to pause your life,” you frowned sternly and Wanda felt herself becoming small, like a little kid being chastised because they ate too many sweets before bed.

“You’re the one abandoning me! You can’t tell me how to spend your last moments on this earth!” Wanda spits venomously, rage taking over her.

The resentment only grew stronger as you stood quiet, your sight staring at your lap.

“You have no right when you’re the one giving up!”

By the time she realized her words, your cheeks were already marked with tears running freely.

“I-” Wanda paused as a fresh wave of tears burned her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she launched herself towards you, holding you with all the will she possessed just to anchor you here. She refused to let you go.

“I’ll always be with you, Wands,” you cried, hugging her with what little force you had left.

“I’ll love you forever.” She vowed sincerely.

And she did. Every day for the next two weeks she stood by your side, telling you about the song she was writing for the festival and watching your favorite movies along with her favorite sitcoms. Even planning gatherings with your friends as you all enjoyed the last moments together.

Against her will, the day of the recital had come sooner than she expected and her heart ached knowing you won’t be there. It was the first time you missed one of her presentations and everything in her broke. Her heart shattered and she knew a part of her would go with you.

But she had promised you. And she would never break her word, no matter how hard it was to comply.

Looking at her reflection one last time, she smiled tearily as she saw your image in the mirror by her side, with the proudest toothy smile you only reserved for her. And that alone was enough to enlight her willpower.

She stepped into the white light as everyone cheered something she could really understand and she couldn’t help the rush of adrenaline running through every cell in her body.

“Good night, Westview!” Wanda smiled cheerily when the crowd erupted. “I hope you’re having a wonderful night. I wrote this song thinking of someone special and I hope you enjoy it.” She spoke confidently, feeling your joyful energy surrounding her. Finding Natasha’s eyes, she nodded as the redhead raised two thumbs up.

As the first tunes filled the silence looming over them, Wanda breathed deeply, reassuring herself.

I've tried to leave it all behind me

But I woke up and there they were beside me

And I don't believe it but I guess it's true

Some feelings, they can travel too

Wanda sang slowly, evoking every emotion into those lines.

Oh there it is again, sitting on my chest

Makes it hard to catch my breath

I scramble for the light to change

You're always on my mind

You're always on my mind

Her intrusive smile hung crookedly on her lips, feeling your presence by her side.

And I never minded being on my own

Then something broke in me and I wanted to go home

To be where you are

Wanda allowed her mind to travel back to the moment she first heard your voice for the first time. Back then, she didn’t know that her heart could feel so strongly for someone.

But even closer to you, you seem so very far

And now I'm reaching out with every note I sing

And I hope it gets to you on some pacific wind

Wraps itself around you and whispers in your ear

Tells you that I miss you and I wish that you were here

And boy, how she wished to see your face in the crowd, with your toothy smile lightening her path.

And if I stay home, I don't know

There'll be so much that I'll have to let go

You're disappearing all the time

But I still see you in the light

For you, the shadows fight

And it's beautiful but there's that tug in the sight

I must stop time traveling, you're always on my mind

You're always on my mind

You're always on my mind

Wanda sang her soul in those lines, hoping somehow you knew.

We all need something watching over us

Be it the falcons, the clouds or the crows

And then the sea swept in and left us all speechless

Speechless

Her eyes watered at the realization you’d be the one watching over her. Always guiding her, even if she couldn’t see you. And she couldn’t feel more blessed.

And I never minded being on my own

Then something broke in me and I wanted to go home

To be where you are

But even closer to you, you seem so very far

And now I'm reaching out with every note I sing

And I hope it gets to you on some pacific wind

Wraps itself around you and whispers in your ear

Tells you that I miss you and I wish that you were here

As she sang the last words, she allowed her fingers to take over the melody, imagining said notes floating away to you, for all she wanted now was to see your proud smile one last time when she rushed to your side shortly.

But she never saw you again. 

By the time she met her friends, her legs gave up as she saw the tears running down their faces, confirming to her what her soul had felt when she saw you in the mirror was nothing more than the bond that linked you breaking as you left this world.

The arms of her friends surrounding her meant nothing at the realization that you had left her. All alone to pick up the pieces of her heart scattered around.

Sadness reigned over the group of people gathered by your casket. Each one with their own thoughts and feelings, but if Wanda was sure of something it was that everyone there asked the same question.

How come the nicest people are the first to leave? Seeing your picture over the easel with that big smile that had taken her captive and your eye shining with that unique light it held, enlightened a wave of anger roaring free. It wasn’t fair.

“Wanda,” your mom spoke softly once the funeral ended.

Looking up, Wanda couldn’t help her cries as the woman hugged her tightly, crying along with her.

“She loved you,” she spoke against the brunette’s hair. “Until her last breath, she loved you.”

Those words played in her mind like a mantra. Maybe if she repeated them enough, it wouldn’t hurt that much.

“She asked me to give you this,” the woman gave her a white envelope when they parted away. “And one last thing? Thank you for loving her.” She kissed Wanda’s head before walking away, leaving a broken Wanda by your grave.

Sitting down, she let the silence surround her, almost like a bubble that would pop with even the softest touch, breathing twice, thrice before opening the letter.

Wands, if you’re reading this it means my body is no longer by your side. But know that my soul will always be linked to yours, for a love like ours is hard to die.

Thank you for all the great moments you shared with me. Unbeknownst to you, every single smile and laugh you gifted me added time to my sand clock and that blessing is something that kept me fighting till the end.

I know you’re suffering right now and you need to mourn, like any loss. But when you’re able to truly smile again, I beg of you not to close your heart. Life is too magical to be lived alone.

Allow yourself to feel love again, don’t fight your heart. Yes? Promise me you’ll keep your head high and not let my departure keep you from enjoying the little things in life.

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner about it, but I know you and I didn’t want you to leave your life on standby while you worried about things no one could solve. Know that till the last breathing of my heart, I lived. And I hope to live forever in your memory.

The necklace I gifted you holds a meaning. I knew it deep in me the first moment I saw you that you were my forever love. And I wished with all my heart I lived long enough to grow old with you. But as the latest didn’t happen, I found the right totem to keep our love for the end of times.

The sixteenth note means the union of our souls and the sincere love we held for each other. The eighth note holds the reminder that even though I'm not present, my spirit will always guide you through your dreams, helping you achieve them. Always silently rooting for you in whatever challenge you face. Just like I always did.

No matter what, bet your ass I’m so, so, so proud of you, baby. And I always will. You were my biggest love and I’m forever thankful for you had taken me.

I love you forever. Until we meet again.

Wanda hugged the letter tightly against her chest, silently crying her pain away as she stared numbly at your whereabouts buried three feet underground.

“I’ll love you forever,” she cried, mustering all the love she held for you in those three words, hoping the wind would let you know.

As always, coments and reblogs are appreciated (:

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