#only just spotted this in the opening sequence

[ineffableheartbreakers]

(I only just noticed "The 2nd Coming" in the opening titles)

I also noticed a ship that was crashed near the end BUT I CAN'T FIGURE OUT WHAT IT SAYS ON IT

And since Mr Neil has said there are things in the opening that may or may not be hints to S3...

SOMEONE TELL ME THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THIS SHIP IT'S LITERALLY SO PROMINENT IN THE FINAL TITLE SEQUENCE I NEED AN EXPLANATION

[jjenthusee]

Aches

Pairing: jason todd x reader

A/N: i burnt my arm making baked potatoes and i wanted to write a drabble on that lol ENJOY :) comment ur thoughts

Summary: Nothing gets past Jason and you don’t mind a caring man at your side. You don’t know how baked potatoes led to an intimate conversation between you two, but anything for the man willing to drop everything for you.

Tags: potato troubles, fluff, hurt/comfort if u squint, soft jason, trigger warning: slight description of burns

Word Count: 1.4k

You stared wordlessly at the burn, oven mitts still in your hands.

You had seared two areas of your arm. It hadn’t hurt when you had accidentally touched the edges of the hot oven, but looking at it made your face scrunch.

The pain had only started once you looked at the damage. Two thin lines of seared skin, still slightly pink from the sudden heat.

Great.

You just wanted baked potatoes and you were going to place them on the rack, but at the cost of your lack of coordination, you grazed the oven with your arm.

The sound of water from the bathroom had shut off, Jason appearing in the corner of your eye as you stood there.

You were tired and another problem had been placed in your hands, or on your arm.

“What you cookin’ sweets—“ Jason lazily walked, trying to rub out the knots in his neck from a late-night patrol.

When you stood there, wordlessly holding oven mitts, had Jason sensed something was off.

Like the analyzer he was, his head perked up, a moment before he was assessing your entire body and kitchen as he briskly walked to you.

Despite being in his leisure clothes, he was ready for any sort of intrusion, but before he could pull out any sort of weaponry mounted to the underside of the kitchen table, did he spot the burns.

In a delicate motion, he turned your arm. You held onto the festive oven mitt as he adjusted your arm.

“Oh, sweets.” Jason softly whispered.

Judging by the preheated oven, potatoes, and the oven mitts you loosely gripped, Jason had put the pieces of events in the correct sequence.

“Lets get this cleaned up and then I can apply a cream.” Jason grabbed the mitts from your palms. “Then I’ll get you some medicine, in case it still hurts, sound okay?”

You nodded, looking down at your own mistake before you sighed.

“Yeah, thanks Jay.” You squeezed his forearm in a quiet thanks.

In a softened gaze, Jason rubbed your hand in return.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before. I’m gonna grab the first aid, you wanna sit on the couch?”

You let yourself sink into the cushions as Jason cleaned up what wasn’t already placed inside the oven.

He sat in front of you, his sheer size leveling out as he sat on the floor, removing the cap off the burn cream you kept in the first aid and placing a cool towel over your arm.

“Isn’t the floor cold?” You watched Jason focus on addressing your arm, first aid kit right by his side. His eyebrows firmly in a line—his concentration contorting his face.

It made you smile.

“It’s not.” Jason intently kept his eyes down, his lashes angled to his cheek.

You raised your free arm to play with his messy hair. It had fallen onto his forehead, spread in clumps.

“You’re lying. My feet were freezing earlier.” You continued to smile as you played with his hair strands, twirling his white streak in between your fingers. “Weather is getting cold, you might have to stay over every night to keep me warm.”

Jason had been growing out his hair the longer the two of you stayed together.

Partly from a passing comment that you liked his hair long and from how he felt comfortable enough to focus on his appearance for once.

He had struggled looking in the mirror for more than a passing glance, but with every reassuring compliment, cheek kiss, and late-night holding had he started to open up to the idea of treasuring his appearance.

Maybe it wasn’t initially for himself, but you wanted to lift him in the ways he had always worshipped your own skin, your heart—your entire self.

Jason’s chuckle interrupted your thoughts. Your eyes lost on the smile lines appearing on the edges of his mouth.

Your heart fluttered at the thought of how they would age as he did. How you can make him laugh and smile to make deeper lines.

You hand slowly drifted down to his eyebrow, to his cheeks, down to small scars littering his face.

Rubbing each blurred skin, sealing the past in a lightened patch.

Your hand drifted again.

Jason flinched at the feel of your subtle fingers at the edges of the misshapen “J” that littered his face.

Your eyes widen at the realization of your thoughtless movements.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—“ You pulled your hand away.

“No, it’s—it’s fine. Really.” Jason clasped onto your fleeing hand with his own. Your cluster of hands hanging in the air.

In one breath, Jason slowly moved your hand back to his cheek. His eyes closing just before your finger touched back onto his scar—like he was bracing for the same sting he felt all those years ago.

You sadly watched the vulnerability of the man sitting on the floor in front of you. His large hands, gracefully aiding you to touch a deepened hurt that goes past the barriers of his skin.

As soon as he let out the breath he was holding, did you move your fingers again.

The trust he had in you, to touch him so casually made your eyes burn.

When you got hurt, to the smallest of cuts, he was always adamant in first aid, taking all precautions to make sure you were fine.

It worried you how he needed to make sure he checked all the boxes before he could be rest assured, so he didn’t toss and turn as much as he usually did.

You expected as much for tonight, knowing deep in your bones he was going to come back tonight after patrol to check up on you.

But what really made your heart sting was the sloppy care he gave himself. Not giving himself the time to heal in the ways he deserved.

You leaned forward, not caring about interrupting Jason’s work, before you rested your forehead on his hair.

You could smell his shampoo as you rested your eyes, breathing as you cradled his face and leaned your head.

Curling over him like a shield.

“Sweets, it’s okay.” Jason mumbled into your shirt. Despite his reassurances, he had leaned into your warmth, resting his face into the center of your heartbeat, counting each pulse.

“I know, I just…get sad. Not at you, but at the fact I want to grab onto every single being who made you hurt and hurl them into the sketchy dumpster outside.” You rubbed your head against his, tickling your face with Jason’s hair.

“If that’s how you feel sad, I don’t wanna see you angry.” Jason rested his hand onto your waist, rubbing circles into your side.

His words were playful, but you could hear the slight strain as he listened to your protective words.

You smiled to the feel of his hand and the bundle of limbs you created with the gentle man sitting on your cold floor.

“Gotham wouldn’t be able to rest until I’m done.” You kissed Jason’s head, still gently soothing the ache of his scar with your words and hand. As he subtly shook under your touch.

A moment of silence before you felt his warm breath on your chest.

“And I’ll be right next to you.” Jason barely whispered, his grip tightening on you. Your shirt wrinkling at the desperation.

You held Jason as he tried to hide in your embrace, suddenly feeling overwhelmed at your words—the angry protectiveness you held over him.

As you rubbed soothing circles on Jason’s back, you lifted you head at the realization that the oven was still on.

“Jay, I forgot to set the timer.” You gazed at the oven.

Jason lifted his head to look up at you.

“My potatoes.” You quietly murmured. “I didn’t get battle scars for me to not get a single cooked potato.”

Jason smiled as he calmed, slightly pulling out of your embrace while letting all his emotional tension slowly wisp away at your potato conflict.

“It hasn’t been that long. Probably still needs a couple more minutes.” Jason lifted himself to kiss your cheek, to soothe your potato burdens. “I still have to wrap this, so it should be ready by then.”

You sighed into Jason’s hair again. His messy stands moving at your breath.

“I’m going to lie to Roy that I fought off an intruder and saved us both.” You laid your head on top of Jason’s as you gazed at the enemy, your oven.

“And you got a burn mark?” Jason chuckled.

“Yes, a miscalculated punch.” You sighed deeply again.

“Whatever you say sweets.” Jason kissed the top of the bandages, rubbing your skin around them and then leaving a final kiss on your forehead. “Let me get your potatoes.”

[odoraful]

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓

wriothesley has been hesitant to tell you about his past, afraid that it will tarnish your view of him. reconciling with this is no easy task, but he has you by his side to guide him

content: wriothesley x gn!reader; established relationship; 'baby' pet name; reader and wriothesley live together; nightmare sequence; mentions of blood; spoilers to wrio story quest!; reader doesn't know the full truth of wriothesley's past; wriothesley worried about how good of a partner he is :( ; hurt/comfort; reverse comfort; 4k words

a/n: i just wanna gently hold wriothesley and tell him that he's doing so well <3 also i give full credit to critical role and the wonderful talisen jaffe for the quote "pain doesn't make people, it's love that makes people"

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Before opening his eyes, Wriothesley smelled iron. Pungent and pervasive. It filled his nostrils and sunk unpleasantly in his churning stomach. He knew he was lying on his back on a cold, hard surface, but that was about as much information he was certain about. Where he was or how he ended up in this state escaped him.

He tested his other senses. Every swallow of saliva went down like sand in his throat. His fingers were limp as he tried squeezing them into fists, the strength siphoned out of him. Slowly regaining some sense of himself again, he could finally label what the scent was. Blood.

At that realisation, he peeled opened his eyes, dreading the scene he would find himself in. A scene he knew that would be painfully similar to memories he quashed a long time ago. He grimly thought whether the blood would be trailing from his hands, or already dried up beneath him, a red dye stained on the floorboards. The lights above accosted him, dazzling his vision. Fontainian households were always so bright, and it didn’t help that the walls of them were white too. But, even then, there were always nooks and crannies shrouded in darkness. Wriothesley found that the more glittering lights there were, the darker the shadows they casted.

He sat up with a groan, his body the weight of bricks. Looking around, there was no such scene he imagined before him. The room he was in was… ordinary. Pristine white walls lined with book shelves against spotless light timber flooring. A fireplace was tucked between two shelves, where the hearth held blackened remnants of burned wood. Wriothesley was situated on the floor between the fireplace and two brown cushioned sofas facing each other separated by a low table. He swore there were other furnishings in the room, but for some reason he couldn’t focus on them. The edges of his vision blurred and he couldn’t make out any other details besides what was most salient.

It wasn’t necessary though.

He knew where he was.

He was almost even in the exact spot they found him slumped in when he was a boy. Back rested against a bookshelf, hollow eyes gazing into the distance. The officers were unable to hide the pure shock on their faces at the grisly tableau in front of them.

Bile rose in Wriothesley’s throat. Despite there being no evidence of violence, the scent of blood lingered in the air, filling his lungs. He went to stand, the movement ungraceful and slow, as if he were swimming in the ocean with thick layers of clothing on. Lying on the floor wouldn’t do well for his nausea. He walked towards to sofa to sit and assess this situation. Sinking into the cushions, he rubbed his temples with his hands.

He thought this house had long since been torn down. How had he been taken back to his old home? His mind sharply retracted those words. No, he wouldn’t call it that. Home was a place of safety and love, but the place he grew up in was built on a foundation of lies and malice. The only small glimmer of home he could recall was his bonds with his siblings.

“█████.”

A voice whispered from just beside his ear, as if speaking a secret.

Wriothesley’s skin prickled. His head snapped around, but he was only met with empty space.

Impossible, he thought. No one who should know that name. He buried it a long time ago when he was handcuffed to the bed in that emergency ward. Perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him. Digging up memories of his past.

“█████, where did you go?”

This time, a different, more louder voice came from the opposite direction. Wriothesley could make out its qualities—young and wistful. It was that of a child.

Wriothesley was not often scared. When someone like him had seen both the worst and best of what life had to offer, he was seldom caught off guard. Even backed into a corner, there was always a way out for him. A few carefully chosen words was his preferred method, but now, his tongue felt heavy in his mouth. Hearing that name being said aloud chilled him to his bones. The colour drew from his face, skin turning ghast-like. He was terrified.

“You left without saying goodbye.”

A young girl sniffled, sounding on the verge of tears. Wriothesley scanned the room frantically, trying to find the source of the voices.

“Why did you leave us?”

A young boy this time. Familiarity clawed at the back of Wriothesley’s mind. His eyes bulged in horror.

“█████, we miss you.”

“You said we would play together.”

“They took some of us away.”

“█████, will you ever come back?”

Wriothesley covered his ears, but it did little to quiet the ceaseless voices. Multiple of them spoke at once, rising in urgency, surging around him. Overlapping and defeaning, burrowing into his skull no matter how hard he squeezed and squeezed his ears shut. He was backed into a corner with no way out. He screamed in his head, roaring in agony. He couldn’t stay here, he needed out.

Hearing the pleading of his own mind, Wriothesley jolted awake.

Like a conductor ending a symphony with the close of their hand, the cacophony of voices abruptly stopped.

Void-like silence met him in the waking world.

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He felt his heart lodged in his throat, as if he had been pushed off the tallest point of the Palais Mermonia. Steadying his shallow breathing, he pushed his back further into the bedsheets, trying to ground himself.

Just a dream, just a dream. He repeated, sighing loudly. His bedroom had never been a more welcome sight as he sat up, careful not to awake his resting partner. At least, that’s where you should have been. There was no weight of your body beside him. He swept a hand over the bed, and made contact only with the sheets and crumpled quilt blanket.

Still reeling from the terrors of his dream, Wriothesley’s mind drew the worse conclusions. Had you been taken? Had you left him? Panicked, he began to call out your name. His voice was hoarse, but he was glad he could speak after being robbed of it in his dream.

A triangle of yellow light cut into the darkness of the room as the door cracked opened. Relief flooded him seeing you standing there, wrapped in a fluffy robe, hair ruffled.

“Baby, is everything alright?” You asked softly, approaching the bed.

Wriothesley’s chest rose and fell in quick intervals. His body arched over like a crooked branch, shivering ever so slightly. Alarms blared inside you. You had never seen him in this state before.

“I- I thought you had gone somewhere,” he said, voice quavering.

The mattress dipped as you sat atop, kneeling beside him. “I didn’t leave.” You lay a hand on him, watching closely at his expression with a furrowed brow. “I’m here, I’m here,” you soothed gently, rubbing small circles into his shoulder.

He gave into your touch, his posture easing. Seeing him slowly relax, you raised your hands to cradle his face. Warmth radiated through him, expelling whatever anxieties had possessed him. His breath shuddered. Immediately, he nuzzled into your touch, burying his face in the faint scent of soap and lilies. He could stay here forever. It would be all he needed to revitalise his senses and keep him alive. He covered one of your hands with his own, encompassing it completely. His calloused fingers slid between yours—a sensation that contrasted against the softness of his lips as he kissed the inside of your palm. A feather-like touch that caused the butterflies in your stomach to flutter.

“I was just in the bathroom.” You reassured him. Wriothesley hummed in response. “Did something happen?”

He hesitated, wondering how much he should tell you.

“I just had a nightmare.” His voice was muffled, lips grazing your skin as he spoke. “It was nothing, really.”

You gently turned his head towards yours, prompting him to focus on you. “It doesn’t seem like nothing to me.”

His heart stung at the pure concern on your face. Different from the times when you tended to him when he injured himself whilst boxing, or when you saw him passed out at his desk from his persistent workload. There was desperation layered in your knitted brows and parted lips.

“Let me get you a glass of water.” You said, caressing his face. Hints of stubble brushed under the pads of your thumbs. “You’ll feel a little better after being hydrated.”

Coldness returned to his cheeks as you pulled away. You couldn’t even turn around before Wriothesley’s hands were on you once again. He snaked his arms around your waist, embracing you tightly.

“Don’t go.” He rasped. “Please, stay with me.”

His pleading tugged at your heartstrings. As much as you wanted to stay in his arms, you could tell from his voice just how dry his throat was. “I won’t be far from you. I’ll be gone only for a moment.” You kissed his forehead, sealing your promise.

You waited until he loosened his hold on you (albeit begrudgingly), and hurried out of the room to fetch some water. Wriothesley leaned against the bedhead. His head was clearer now, and he tuned his hearing to the far-away whir of machinery in the Fortress.

He was glad to have a shared room with you away from his working environment. This was an entirely new floor he had extended above his office. The design of which began after he had seen you curled up in sleep on one of his chairs, waiting for him to finish his duties for the day. Resting somewhere backgrounded by piles of administrative paperwork didn’t make for the most relaxing setting. And so, he swiftly drafted plans to create private quarters for the two of you.

After a long day, he would head straight upstairs to meet you. You’d be there snuggled on the lounge with a novel, and his footfalls would be enough for you to abandon your book on the table and rush over to the door. Now, while the sun could not be seen in the stronghold beneath the waves, it found its place with you. In the way your smile beamed and eyes twinkled as you greeted him. You were so, so bright, and yet he could never look away. At first, it almost startled him how easy you gave your love to him. There was no ulterior motive with you. You loved him wholly.

He sadly wondered how quickly your glimmer would fade if he revealed parts of him that had never seen the light.

The tapping of your slippers approached the door, and you entered with a glass and pitcher of water. Placing them both on the bedside table, you poured water into the glass and handed it to him. Wriothesley didn’t realise how parched he was until he took the first sip. Eagerly chugging the rest down, he you in the corner of his eye, chewing on your bottom lip. You were on the cusp of saying something.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, taking the empty glass from his hands and putting it to the side.

“Your dream that is…” You faltered through your words. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but you seemed upset when you woke up.”

More than upset, you thought to yourself, afraid.

Wriothesley reached out for you wrist. You let him guide you into bed, slipping under the blankets. He pulled you in closer, arm draped around your waist, until your bodies were flush with each other. Your expectant gaze fell on him. He plastered on an assuring smile, but couldn’t quite draw the corners of his lips up to reach his eyes.

“I was only a bit shaken,” he replied, keeping his tone light. “It had things relating to my past. My subconscious must have it out for me for not letting me get a good night’s rest.” Hopefully that was enough to mollify the true contents of his dream.

You toyed with the edge of the blanket. Wriothesley’s past was something he didn’t divulge in too much detail. Even after being together for some time, all you knew was that his childhood was a difficult time, and he had to run away from his foster parents home. You had a good sense that he no longer wished to recall these events from the way he was quick to brush off the topic. It was hard for you to balance between wanting to know more, and also respecting his privacy.

“You know that you can tell me about anything that’s bothering you, right?”

Your eyes never left his, watching the way they brimmed with fondness as he answered.

“Of course I know that baby, it’s just that…” His eyes casted downwards.

In his line of work, keeping up a poker-face meant keeping things under control. However, with you, he never hid his true emotions, and you saw conflict dance across his features.

“I’m worried it might change how you see me,” he confessed, fidgeting with his fingers as if he were itching to move.

“Wriothesley,” you covered a hand over his, halting his movement, “nothing will make me change the way I see you now. You aren’t the same person as you were back when you were young.”

Those words settled in his mind, prodding at the uncertainties he had about opening up. You continued,

“You can share anything about your past with me. And, what is it they say…” You tried to recall a line you had read recently. “A burden shared is a burden halved?”

He couldn’t fight back a smile, teeth peeking out from beneath his lips. “Putting those philosophical books you’re reading to use?”

“Actually, it’s a collection of poetry from Mondstadt.” You corrected, pursing your lips smugly.

He breathed a laugh, spirits lightening at how endearing his partner was.

From the day he selected a new name for himself, he chose to begin anew. Although he knew that nothing in his past constituted any part of his life now, it still clung to him. A fog clouding his mind during moments of solitude, drawing out doubts that stumbled into the open. If he did tell you the full truth, would you see him as nothing more than someone raised in a loveless place? Who was pushed to do what many considered unthinkable? Running a hand through his hair, he exhaled slowly—ruminating.

You calmly awaited his next words, knowing that you would accept both if he chose to tell you or not.

Wriothesley spoke again,

“I mentioned to you before that I didn’t have the most… peaceful childhood.”

You nodded, grim at the thought of what those adults had done to those innocent children. “Mmm, you told me about your foster parents, and how you ran away from them.”

“Yes, but that’s not the whole truth.”

Pausing, he steeled himself. He caught on a thread that had long since been loose and began to unravel his past.

“After I escaped, I couldn’t shake off the guilt of abandoning my siblings, but there was also no way I could stay in that household after what I had learned.”

He recounted the story in the same way one would read aloud an article published by The Steambird. So separated from his past that he had little inflection in his tone. Even so, you saw a flare of emotion in Wriothesley’s eyes.

“So, I tried to keep myself alive and tried to get stronger, so that I could return and protect them.”

“Archons,” he bowed his head, dark hair falling over his brows, “I don’t even know how much time passed out there, everything seemed to blend together.”

You felt an ache in your chest, like someone had tightly gripped your heart. “I can’t imagine how tough it must have been.” Picturing a younger Wriothesley in your head, frightened and alone, made you shiver.

“Mmm,” he hummed. “It was.” He returned a sad smile to you, though regret laced his words. “I wouldn’t wish that life for anybody, but I did learn a lot.”

“I snuck back into the house after a while of being on the streets. I-“ He rubbed his temple with his free hand, unable to find the right words. “One of my siblings told me that while I was gone, a few of them had been… adopted into other families.”

Your skin turned cold, knowing exactly what that meant.

“I-I think I heard their voices in my dream.” His voice wavered, face scrunching up as he remembered those ghostly voices in that empty room. “They were asking why I left them there, wondering where I was.”

You squeezed his hand. “But you did return. You swore that you would come back for them and you did,” you asserted.

Shaking his head, he turned his hand over to interlock your fingers with his. “Perhaps I was too late.”

“I found my foster parents sitting happily in the drawing room, and suddenly, I felt so, so angry.” His expression turned sombre, staring down at the blanket covering you two. “At them, at myself, at the world, and something snapped in me and I did the only thing I felt I could do in that moment.”

A heaviness tugged down on his chest as if in protest at the continuation of his sentence. But, there would be no hiding it now. He swallowed thickly.

“I killed them.”

The words left his lips in a whisper, and hung in the space between you.

You stilled. The faint beating of your heart could be felt between your hand in his.

Sensing your stiffness, Wriothesley forced himself to look at you, searching your face in the hopes of finding any kind of reaction. He half expected you to pull away in terror. Disillusioned at the fact that your partner was a murderer. But, he found no such revulsion. Instead, your eyes glossy with tears captured a sadness so sincere and profound that his heart shattered into pieces, piercing him from the inside out.

“It was a long time ago.” With every word he spoke, the shards seemed to dig deeper. “And I definitely don’t associate myself with that person anymore.”

“But, I understand if this changes how you see me. If you need time away-”

“Don’t say that,” you interrupted, shaking your head fervently.

You blinked, tears lining your lower lashes. The sight of your partner blurred slightly in your vision, his face contorted in pain. You understood. The distance he wanted to put between you was merely a façade. Buried beneath it was a wordless plea for you to stay. He had bared everything to you, and you would not let him hurt by himself any longer.

“It doesn’t change how I feel towards you.” Determination rose in your cracked voice. “You were so young. No child should ever be placed in a position like that.”

Surely, there must be some part of him that agreed. Some part that would allow forgiveness. Wriothesley’s gaze flicked between your eyes, lost in your expression, as was you in his. A muscle in his jaw twitched.

“I-I can’t be the one to say whether it was the right thing to do,” you continued, “but what I do know is that you were just a child who needed to survive and wanted to protect those you cared about.”

How many people had treated him with kindness as a child? It upset you to think of all the adults that turned their backs on him. Reducing his character to only what they saw on a case report. Likely considering him to be nothing more than a psychopath. Your pulse thumped in your ears at the injustice of it.

“You are not who you were in the past.” You said slowly, enunciating every word. “Pain doesn’t make people, Wriothesley. It’s love that makes people.”

His expression melted softly. The creases between his brows smoothing.

“And I know that you love and care so strongly, you’ve shown me that every single day.”

Icy blue eyes held so much affection as he stared back at you—transfixed. Now more than ever did he believe you were the sun to him. Basking in your warmth, feeling the comfort of it tingle his skin. What you had said to him had begun to sink in. However, while he couldn’t refute your words, the mindset he had formed could not be altered in a single moment. Perhaps he would not completely believe your words now, but that was alright. You would be there by his side every day to remind him.

Clearing his throat, Wriothesley tested out if his voice was still fit to speak. Though this room was private to the two of you, he spoke quietly, as if he craved only your attention.

“When I was serving my sentence here, I always dreamed about what my new home would be."

He recalled the confinement of his cell, and how his mind would drift from counting the bolts in the metal wall to imagining a new life for himself. Wanting a place that was safe and people he felt at peace with felt like a mirage to him. However, if he could go back in time and speak to his younger self in that cell, he would tell him that things would turn out alright. The journey would not be without difficulties, but he would finally be in a place where he no longer had to look over his shoulder, fearing for his safety. And, he would be with someone who would be proud to call him their love.

“I think I found it here, with you.”

He took the chance to close the distance between you two. His forehead rested against yours. You closed your eyes.

“I love you, Wriothesley,” you whispered, instinctively.

His breath caught in his throat. How fortunate he was to have you in his life. Not only to receive your endless love, but to learn just how capable of loving he is.

He whispered back in reply, his breath gently fanning across your cheeks. “I love you too.”

Neither of you broke away, staying in this position for a moment. Everything had been untangled before you, and a odd mixture of both sorrow and solace stirred inside you. Sorrow at listening to what Wriothesley had gone through as a boy, and solace at how tender the man before you was, his hair tickling against your forehead.

You continued to speak softly to each other for a while longer. The conversation floated from his time at the Fortress to how he became its administrator. As he spoke, the accuracy of the quote you shared before was confirmed in the inexplicable lightness he felt in his chest. A burden shared is a burden halved, he recited to himself.

Time drew on, and you both sensed that if you didn’t sleep now, you’d be up until the Fortress’ inmates began their morning shifts. Curling up beside each other, you asked to play big spoon this time so he could fall asleep easier. Though he was taller in stature to you, you insisted on it. If it were a different day, he probably would have put up a greater fight, but there was little argument in him now at the chance of being wrapped up in your arms. He was lulled to rest by your rhythmic inhales and exhales. The night quietened, and no more voices followed him in slumber.

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post a/n: thank you for making it to the hidden easter egg author note haha, i appreciate you greatly, and i hope it was an enjoyable read!!! 🥺 i just wanted to yap about my thought process writing this piece. you definitely don't have to read all this, it's primarily for my own notetaking! <3

i felt like this was probably one of the hardest pieces i've written so far (?) i found it tough to build up that tension of reader not knowing wriothesley's full past and him still grappling with his actions as a young boy, and even what that dialogue would look like! i had to step away and come back a few times just so i could look at this with a fresh pair of eyes. it may not be perfect but i'm glad to have finished this! :')

[cutiekaijumuseum]

A little trivia for those that just got introduced to Ultraman thanks to Ultraman Rising

You know that part where baby kaiju Emi is shown a kids cartoon with an earworm of a song?

That cartoon is real!! It's called Kaiju Step Wandabada and it stars cute kid versions of different monsters from different Ultraman series (mostly the original from 1966 wich Rising is also based on). The opening shown in the movie is in stop-motion while the cartoon itself is in 2D.

The Ultraman heroes don't appear in person, but bizarrely enough they seem to exist as fictional superheroes in-universe, with the kaiju kids having toys and dolls of them. It's no surprise Emi liked it so much! She would be right at home in this show!

The episodes are 5 minutes long, there are two seasons of 26 episodes each for a total of 52. The official Tsurubaya channel has the first episodes of both seasons uploaded...

...but the rest were sadly only up for a limited time cuz gotta sell the dvds. What is officially available online right now is a series of educational shorts.

Some years ago Marvel Comics got the rights to make Ultraman comics and made a mini-series called "The Rise of Ultraman" (no relation), and these Kaiju Step designs got to appear as part of in-universe instructional videos about dealing with monsters and aliens:

So let's have a quick rundow on the little monsters and where each comes from:

Pigmon or Pig-chan is the main protagonist and new kid in town (forest). This coral-looking guy is one of the most iconic and recurring ultra monsters and the go-to kid-friendly one, as he stood out among the original set of kaiju for being friendly and heroic (as well as human-sized). He has the bad habit of dying in many of his apperences but fortunately that's not the case here.

Kanegon or Kane-chan is the second member of the protagonist trio, and the most energic and simple-minded. A coin purse monster that eats money, and usually a human kid under a curse. He actually pre-dates Ultraman, appearing in the black-and-white anthology series Ultra Q wich had monsters but not superheroes. Fortunately this one doesn't need to eat money and was born a kaiju.

Alien Dada or Dada-chan is the reliable but temperamental inventor of the trio, he dreams of building a rocket ship. One of the most iconic villains from the original 1966 Ultraman (and that's saying a lot), it's a weird alien with weird powers looking for human subjects for his weird experiments, like testing his shrinking ray. He really earns the name of a weird art movement.

Gomora or Gomo-chan is probably the most iconic ultra kaiju of all. Remember how in Ultraman Rising there is this whole sequence where the dad omniously talks about fighting him? There is a good reason for that. Gomora had the only two-parter in the original 1966 series, and was able to actually defeat Ultraman in their first figh. He's essentially Godzilla if he lived underground rather than underwater (He's even been a good guy and had a robot counterpart). Here, however, Gomora is a chill guy who's passionate about agriculture. (btw, you can also spot Gomora in Rising on a screen around an hour and eight minutes into the movie).

Red King or just Red is another iconic ultra dino, that looks like corn. In the show he's brute but well-meaning, and has a friendly sport rivalry with Kemur-chan. But in the Ultraman series he's a sadistic and murderous bully who beats up weaker monsters but gets his butt kicked rather easily by Ultraman (although more recent incarnations have have been more positive, both in his fighting ability and sometimes even becoming a loving father). (and yes, you are right, he's not red).

Jamira or Jami-chan is a passionate archeologist and fossil collector in the show, whereas in the original Ultraman he was a human astronaut that got infected by a virus. He hasn't appeared much beyond his debut... but doesn't need to, as his episode was very memorable in how sad and tragic it was. I can't imagine the target audience's whiplash seeing this cute creature one moment collecting fossils and the next having a horrible sad death. I guess one could say the same for most of the characters, but this one takes the cake.

Miclas or Mic-chan is the youngest character, a baby, and loves bugs. He was one of the "capsule monsters" from the second ultra series, Ultra Seven. Sometimes the titular ultra wouldn't be able to fight himself so he would summon up to three very loyal monsters from little capsules to do the fighting instead (or at least buy some time, they weren't very strong). One was a triceratops, another was a robot bird, but the most iconic had to be Miclas because really, what even is he? Some kind of bull toad hybrid? (By the way, fun fact, the capsule monsters were one of the inspirations for Pokemon).

King Joe (yes, that's his name) or Joe-chan is a robot controlled by alien invaders and is to Ultra Seven what Gomora is to the original Ultraman: he's the subject of a two-parter and was able to beat the hero to a pulp at first, made harder to fight by his ability to divide into three flying parts. Fortunately this Joe is very shy and very friendly.

Eleking or Ele-chan from Ultra Seven is another of the "mascot" ultra kaiju. If two ultra kaiju have to appear in anything, chances are they will be Gomora and Eleking. In fact, in Ultraman Rising you can see Eleking in a monitor right next to Gomora (around an hour and eight minutes in). It's a dinosaur-like eel monster with (of course) electric powers, and the enforcer of an all-female bug-like alien species set to conquer the earth, that are nonetheless very affectionate towards their pet-weapon dino-eel. The fact that Eleking's masters are always women may explain why the Kaiju Step one is a very femenine and elegant girl despite having King in the name, though no less dangerously electric.

Alien Guts or Guts-chan here is a very little alien bird child who can multiply into three separate individuals to cause all the destruction in their sincere attempts to help out. The original duo from Ultra Seven meanwhile are ruthless alien invaders that are infamous for freaking crucifying the aforementioned hero, leading to decades of japanese media having christian imagery for the sake of looking cool, most notably Neon Genesis Evangelion, because these birds did it first and it looked so cool.

Alien Kemur or Kemu-chan is a very agile alien that comes from the distant future of 2020 to consume humans and extend his lifespan. Here he's a friendly but competitive ninja from the present, and has a rivalry with Red King being the speed to his strenght. Like Kanegon, he pre-dates Ultraman, being from Ultra Q.

Motokureron or Kureron-chan originates from the whimsical, fairy-tale like Ultraman Taro. A kid found him as a baby and fed him until he grew to giant size, but when the kid couldn't feed him anymore he turned destructive; fortunately he was easy to pacify with food, including the kind that made him shrink. He retains his glutonny and clumsiness in Kaiju Step, often doing the bad thing (tm) so the others can teach the kids in the audience why you shouldn't do the bad thing (tm).

Nova or No-chan originates from the surprisingly dark Ultraman Leo. This creepy and bizarre ghost-like alien created a red mist that made people go crazy, and manipulated a kid with illusions of his deceased family, and under his cloth there are lots of tentacles and a scythe. So of course, in Kaiju Step she's a happy and energic little girl that loves to sing.

Mugera or Muge-chan is by far the most obscure kaiju of the cast. She's from the 2001 series Ultraman Cosmos, the one where the titular hero protects monsters instead of fighting them. Mugera is an ET-like cryptid that lives in an amusement park that only kids can see, with the ability to fix toys and heal wounds with her magic. After the amusement park closes down she phones home and the protagonists have to protect her from the goverment wich is a little too eager to shoot down the UFO that came to pick her up. In Kaiju Step she likes reading and plants.

And that was your daily dose of kaiju sugar, that may be overdose because you probably already met Emi. Cheers!

[scarletcomalies]

soul bounds entwined

Wanda Maximoff x Fem Reader

Part I, Part III

Word count: 5,248

Warnings: 18+ content, brief masturbation, confrontation, groping, emotional manipulation, brief degrading, edging, angst. Also, Reader kinda uses Billy.

A/N: Oh, my! This was supposed to be second and last part but I'm sorry, I'm leaving the best part in suspense. Thank you 3000 for the support you've given to this little series so far ❤️ See you in part III!

The more you get involved into Wanda Maximoff's life, the more you find yourself increasingly drawn to the woman. Through a series of interactions during family activities, intense romantic and sexual tension develops, culminating in a dramatic confrontation where hidden feelings are exposed.

You met Kate Bishop at High School, a few yesterdays ago. She opened the door for you to photograph galas, events, or photoshoots that her mother, Eleanor Bishop, occasionally participated in. Eleanor only agreed to please her stubborn daughter, who would have hired you regardless.

Despite your young age at the time, you were able to demonstrate to Eleanor -and several others- your almost innate ability to capture the precise peak of every instant. It was as if you had a sixth sense that told you exactly when to pick up your camera and press the button.

You were never more grateful for that gift than when you spotted the figure of Wanda Maximoff hitting the neon green sphere with her racket, so steadily, yet with such elegance that it could easily pass for a dance sequence. That was her, a being who radiated beauty even without trying.

You were barely at the middle landing of the stairs that would lead you to that woman you so longed for, her green eyes had not yet settled on you, for her attention was directed to her opponent. Oh, but she had your full and undivided attention, every action on her part being meticulously scrutinized.

When the redhead was defeated by her son, she let out a sigh of defeat, and moved to pick up the tennis ball that hit the wire and rolled a few meters away from her. It was at the moment when she threw it up, ready to take the first hit, that you pressed the capture button of your old Polaroid camera, which would be your accomplice in freezing that moment inside the piece of zink paper.

You shook the cartridge impatiently, the minutes feeling like hours for the image to be developed. And hell, was it worth the wait, for your eyes were delighted in return.

In your hands was a photograph that only you would have at your mercy, and you couldn't help but consider it a form of unparalleled intimacy that condemned you to an addiction.

Wanda Maximoff with the ball hovering in the air, looking up at said object with her full lips half-open, her racket at shoulder height. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, some of it beginning to stick to her forehead from the sweat that was beginning to be present. She wore a white pleated skirt like yours, and a light blue polo shirt with three buttons open, revealing just a little bit of her collarbone.

You stared at the photograph for who knows how long, the hours feeling like minutes this time.

"(Y/N)! You made it!" The distant voice of your now muse snapped you out of your trance, and you quickly shoved the photograph in your bag. With quick steps, you descended the remaining stairs and walked to where the awaiting family stood.

"I made it," you replied with a smile.

"And you look..." Wanda began the sentence, looking you up and down, repeating the action twice. However, she concluded it with a sigh.

"You look beautiful," Billy completed it. Despite the fact that he vocalized a complete word, a prolonged intake of breath followed by an exhale, held more meaning for you because it came from the woman before you.

"Completely," Wanda confirmed, grinning at you from ear to ear. "That skirt really suits you. You should show off those legs more often."

"Oh, thank you..." your breath hitched, and you felt as if all the blood in your body lost the ability to distribute itself, landing in your cheeks alone, the impact of her words taking on a peculiar dark pink hue.

"Billy, you pull," Wanda said, and that's when you realized he hadn't taken his eyes off you. His perennial stare was undetectable for you as long as his mother was present. "And (Y/N), go sit next to Tommy, feel free to order food or drinks. I'll teach you how to play as soon as we finish this round."

You found yourself nodding quickly, like a submissive and obedient puppy who didn't let out a word and complied to whatever she said.

Tommy greeted you with a tight-lipped smile. Between the two brothers, you found it easier to relax around Tommy. While you preferred Billy, you always had to be on guard against his suggestive remarks, which hindered your ability to fully enjoy his company. On the other hand, Tommy's voice held no hidden intentions, only friendliness at its best despite his reserved countenance.

"Did you play yet?" You asked him, noticing that his hair was still perfectly combed, with no sign of movement or activity.

"No, when my mom teaches you, I'll be your opponent," he replied.

"Then it'll be an easy win," you chuckled, making him laugh back.

"Don't worry, I won't be hard on you..."

"I meant easy win for me," you corrected, eliciting a surprised gasp from him, making you laugh even harder.

"Ah! Is this how things are gonna be between us? Okay, okay," he joked, feigning offense.

"Okay, Billy, rest," you heard Wanda say, once he lost to her.

With quiet gasps, he walked over to the table where you were seated next to Tommy. He reached for the cold water bottle that was resting across from you. He appeared to be upset, and you assumed it was because he lost, not because he witnessed your interaction with his brother.

"Mom, I want to be the one on the other side when you teach (Y/N)," he spoke, after placing the water bottle on the table.

"What?" Tommy exclaimed. "No way, dude. You played the hell out of it, it's my turn."

Before Billy could counter, Wanda interfered, "You wanted to play first, now it's your brother's turn."

Billy snorted, and sat on the chair, pulling his phone out of his bag.

Wanda signaled for you to follow her, and again, you walked behind her obediently, stopping where she indicated. Tommy positioned himself on the opposite side, stretching out his arms.

"All right, ready?" Wanda asked, handing you her racket. When you took it, you were surprised to see that it was heavier than she made it seem. The way she was handling it earlier made you think it would be featherlight.

"Yeah, ready," you could only hope that you would at least look your best while failing at trying to play the sport.

You let out a small gasp as she suddenly positioned herself behind you, her front pressed against your back. A stream of torturous cold sweat invaded every corner of your body as you forced yourself to keep your sanity.

"We're here to have fun, not the international tennis league," she said, guiding your arm with the racket at the appropiate height. "That said, don't worry if you don't get it perfect on the first try, okay?"

"Sure," you nodded, taking a deep breath. Maybe she noticed your nervousness, and thought it was due to the circumstances, when really, that became irrelevant to you when her body was pressed behind you.

"Take it firmly, with two arms or with one, whichever you feel better," she continued, and you opted for the second option, this being the one that would give you the most freedom if you needed momentum and fluidity.

Noting your choice, she added, "Good. I advice you to use your whole forearm. You're a beginner, this thing is heavy, and we don't want your wrist to dislocate."

"Oh, I was thinking of doing that anyway," you laughed. Using your wrist alone with such a heavy artefact would affect you considerably. She was right.

Wanda laughed softly, her breath colliding against your ear as she did so.

"Now, legs, they need to be apart and parallel," she continued, grabbing the inside of your right leg, a little above your knee, and positioned it in front of hers, so that you mimicked the distance she had. "Like this, good girl."

You swallowed dryly.

You weren't sure if she was simply too trusting or if, in your wildest dreams, she really wanted to bewilder you and have you under her spell.

"Finally, don't be too rigid. Let your body follow its course every time you stroke," she withdrew from behind you, and you felt the emptiness of her closeness linger on you. "Let the movements flow. But keep your posture as straight as you can."

"Noted, I got it."

At first, every time Tommy threw the ball at you, it seemed to take on a life of its own when you hit back. It bounced off the net, or to the side, out of your reach. Frustrated, you looked to Wanda, for help.

"Don't be discouraged, (Y/N). You just need to adjust your position and the angle of your racket a little,” Wanda said, approaching you.

She stood behind you once again, and gently guided your arm, showing you how to hit the ball. “Try to keep your eyes on it and bend your knees a bit for stability.”

Tommy threw again, and this time the ball came closer to you. With Wanda's help, you managed to hit it well, sending it straight towards where Tommy was standing.

“Well done!” Tommy exclaimed, surprised.

Wanda smiled, “Now you try it on your own, (Y/N)."

You took a deep breath and prepared for Tommy's next pitch. This time, you concentrated on following the trajectory of the ball and positioned your racket at the right angle.

You did it! The ball landed right where Tommy was expecting it.

“Excellent, you're catching it fast!” Said Tommy, excited. “I think you'll soon be an ace.”

Little by little, Wanda let you manage the game on your own, intervening only occasionally with advice. Your strokes became more and more precise and powerful, and Tommy had to work harder to keep up.

Wanda no longer considered it necessary to offer you her help, so she sat at the table next to Billy, with dark sunglasses covering her gaze, and although you had decided not to turn around to avoid distractions, her penetrating gaze was able to pierce through every fiber of your being.

You could feel her intense and overwhelming presence, as if a magnetic force pulled you towards her. Your heart was beating with desperation, wishing to turn your head and gaze at her beauty, but you knew you had to maintain focus and not be too obvious.

In the ninth round, Tommy failed to reach the ball and hit the shot needed to keep the streak going, so you decided to suggest to take a break instead of continuing to play. He agreed, and the two of you headed over to the table where Wanda and Billy were.

“I ordered some cold water and snacks,’ Wanda announced, pointing to the tray that contained them.

“Oh, thank you very much,” you replied with a smile. After all the physical activity, the thought of having some cold water was like heaven.

When you sat down, Billy looked away from his phone and smiled at you before placing it face down on the table.

He was about to say something when his brother joined you at the table. "You're a natural, (Y/N)! I must admit, I let you win at first to cheer you on, but then I had a hard time catching up,” he praised you as he picked up a bottle of water and drank almost half of it. In a way, you were grateful for that interruption, as it saved you from having to deal with Billy's corny flirtations.

“Yeah, you were awesome,” Billy added, bummed that maybe Tommy took the words right out of his mouth.

“Thanks, guys,” you replied with a smile. “I had the best teacher, giving me the push I needed,” you turned to Wanda, pining for the older woman's attention again.

And you did, when she leaned a little closer to you and said softly, “Oh, honey, and I had the best student,” she winked at you from under her shades, which you could see through the sunlight.

Billy sat next to you, trying to look gallant. “Well, you know, I could give you a ‘push’ too if you wanted one. What do you say, gorgeous?” He said with a crooked grin.

You couldn't help but laugh at Billy's awkward flirtation.

Wanda shot Billy a stern look. "All right, lover boy, you've got your energy back.

Time for you and me to play a little,” she interferred, taking his hand and pulling him away from you.

Tommy, who watched the interaction, rolled his eyes playfully and sat next to you.

"Forgive my brother," he apologized. "You're the first girl he's ever liked, and he has zero experience in how to behave with one."

You brushed it off with a little wave of your hand.

If he wasn't so charismatic, you probably would have cut ties with him... or maybe that's what you forced yourself to believe, because by being around him, you had opportunities like this, to share with his mother beyond work issues.

"What about you, any person who caught your eye?" you questioned.

"There is a guy, David, yes..." he confirmed, causing you to reposition your chair to turn towards him, showing interest. He laughed softly at your action. "I won't elaborate."

"Tommy, Tommy, Tommy," you clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth, shaking your head. "I'm a gossip enthusiast, and you can't tell me about a guy without blurting out more details," you replied, but realized that perhaps, it was best to respect his decision. "But it's okay. I understand if you decide not to share. I won't force you."

He sighed, "It's just... everything that shapes me as a person; my hobbies, my passions, my career, my internship, I share with my brother," he shrugged. "Don't get me wrong, I adore him madly. But at least, this is very much my own thing," he sighed a second time, louder this time, watching his brother, who was occasionally observing the interaction, but redirecting his focus to the game.

“I totally understand," you nodded. It was often the case that with a pair of twins, it was more usual to share common grounds and live together almost as if they were one person in two bodies. Sooner or later, there came that desire for individualism, which Tommy found in keeping aspects of his life to himself. "I'm so glad that you are in that process of detaching from your brother and forming your own path, as your own person."

"Sure as hell I am," he giggled. "I have my own friends, I had a girlfriend named Lisa for a while," he continued. "About both, Billy constantly commented on, whining about why I managed to fit in at college and he didn't, what I had that he didn't. And it was always my duty to comfort him," his expression took on a lingering hint of annoyance.

“Must've been so hard to always be the one comforting him, especially when you were just trying to enjoy your own life and relationships,” you nodded with sympathy.

Now you understood why Billy seemed to want to hog your attention, and was so annoyed when Tommy, with his extroverted nature struck up a conversation with you. Billy felt like he was constantly in Tommy's shadow, always comparing himself and feeling inadequate. He craved validation and reassurance, seeking comfort in your friendship whenever he felt overshadowed. You were the only person he was starting to form bonds with besides his brother and mother.

"It may sound selfish, not to have included my brother to my group of friends when many do that."

"No," you replied firmly. "As you said earlier, it's your own thing."

"Thank you... that's what my mother tells me," he confessed, and you were glad to know that the redhead was comprehensive in that regard. "She's a twin too, so she understands the dynamics of having a close sibling relationship while still needing your own space and identity. She ended up being way different than her brother, but both were happy for each other.”

You knew about her brother, Pietro Maximoff, that he died when the Avengers fought Ultron in Sokovia. You saw it in one video of ‘50 things you didn't know about Wanda Maximoff’, at 3AM when you couldn't mitigate the intrigue she left.

And from all that you learned, not only was she talented and charismatic, she also carried a profound strength in her heart, from which she emerged stronger. She was now enjoying the empire she built with the stones life threw at her… quite literally, the mind stone.

"If Billy isn't happy for you, his emotions are not his responsibility," you stated. "In fact, nothing regarding him is your responsibility. You enjoy what you were able to attract into your life."

"Thank you, I'm glad someone is reassuring me that I'm on the right track," he replied, pulling a bag of chips that was resting on the tray. He gestured you to grab one as well, so you did. "A few months after my first breakup, I developed this crush on a girl named Kate, and he never knew. It was refreshing, keeping it to myself, without Billy turning it back on him and how much he hated not even having a girl he liked."

"And what happened between you and this girl, Kate?"

"Oh, well, it was pathetically movie-like," he chuckled. "After crushing from afar, I saw her outside campus. I was very determined, walking towards her to say hi, when a blonde girl came on a bike, got off and went to kiss her. So I stepped back.”

"Wait... isn't that Kate Bishop by any chance?" You asked, the first name, college and blonde girlfriend being enough characteristics that fit your best friend.

"Yes! Kate Bishop!" He confirmed, surprised. "No way... do you know her?"

You let out a laugh at the coincidence, shaking your head softly in disbelief.

"She's my best friend since high school," you nodded.

"Oh, shut up!" He exclaimed loudly. "There is no way!"

Wanda Maximoff's son, studying at the same university as your best friend, Kate, who he used to have a crush on.

Kate, whose girlfriend, Yelena Belova, was the younger sister of Natasha Romanoff, one of the Avengers, of which Wanda Maximoff was a member until the Sokovia Accords marked a new beginning in her career.

All this time, you were closer to Wanda than you thought.

Billy noticed the friendly and amusing exchange between you and Tommy, so he proceeded to purposely miss on the present round, with the excuse to approach the table again where the two of you were.

"What's so funny?" He asked, so innocently, you thought, because you were so oblivious to the look on his face at every single thing you were doing.

Wanda followed him.

Evidently, she wasn't born yesterday, and she knew she had to be on the lookout to intervene in any recklessness, a product of that jealousy you were already aware of, that he was experiencing towards his twin brother. It was funny, nevertheless, that he thought he had to compete against his brother for your attention, when truly, it was her mother the one and only threat.

"Oh, (Y/N) has a best friend, Kate Bishop, who studies at our university. I've seen her a couple of times," Tommy explained. "We were just laughing about how small New York is."

Billy nodded slowly, arching his eyebrows.

"That's so funny!" Wanda spoke, a smile plastered on her face, instantly melting you. Whenever she did so, her nose scrunched a little in the process, and some dimples on her cheeks made themselves present.

Oh, how you longed for her to be so close to you, sharing gestures and glances that seemed to connect you both in a unique way. Yes, they may have been mere human interactions, but you treasured each of those little things, those details that, to the eyes of others, might go unnoticed.

"Actually, her girlfriend, I'm sure you know her," you replied to the older woman. "She's Natasha's younger sister, Yelena."

"Noooooo!" It was her turn to be surprised and laugh, just like you and Tommy were a few minutes ago.

"I know! Unbelievable!" You responded, her laughter contaging you like a deadly virus.

"Yelena, I've met her a couple of times,” she recalled. “When we have one of those friendly get-togethers at the compound, I've had the chance to see her twice or thrice," Wanda commented to you, and seemed to think for a moment. "Hey, next time, you and Kate should join us. Since you and I aren't strangers anymore, and Kate seems to be familiar with the rest of the team."

You laughed instantly, remembering the anecdote of Kate meeting her idol, Clint Barton, for the first time.

"I'm serious, darling," Wanda stated, probably believing that your little giggle was due to disbelief and not the memory that popped into your mind.

"Oh, no, it's just… I remembered how pale Kate looked when Yelena took her to meet Natasha, unbeknownst to her that Clint would be there too," you clarified.

Yelena had invited Kate to a restaurant a little way out of town, in order to introduce her to her sister, Natasha. Things between them had already become serious like that.

Your best friend was a nervous wreck before Yelena picked her up, repeatedly stating that she was not mentally prepared to meet Natasha Romanoff, whom she also admired. She was in for a big surprise, when not only was Black Widow waiting for them, but Hawkeye as well.

You expected to receive a text, or at most a phone call with all the details. However, hours later, the couple arrived at your flat. Yelena walking hand in hand with a completely mesmerized and shocked Kate, with a lost gaze and unable to spill a single word.

"Wow, I can only imagine..." Wanda mused, empathizing with your best friend's feelings at such an experience. As she sat down across from you with a clear determination to continue the conversation, you couldn't help but feel a surge of triumph. It was then that you regained awareness of your surroundings and realized that the twins had left you alone who knows how long ago, opting to play a round together instead. “But seriously, I would love it if you came.”

Wanda Maximoff: (Pauses).

Tommy Maximoff: That’s… (sighs) that’s when the incident happened.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N): Did Tommy say that? (laughs) No, the incident was always that Billy started to get the wrong ideas. Of course, I didn't have the heart to reject him, but I gave very clear signals. At the compound, that’s where it ended.

Tommy Maximoff: There is no worse blind than the one who does not want to see.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N): I always carry my Polaroid camera with me, no matter where I go. I am fascinated by being able to capture the important moments of my life with that particular photographic style and store them in a special album of memories. Maybe it sounds old-fashioned, but over the years, you realize the almost magical power that photographs have to transport you back to those frozen moments in time. Pressing the shutter button at that country club became a sort of curse, as I couldn't help but yearn to be teleported back over and over to those unforgettable moments with her.

When you finished working with Wanda, you already had a large number of photographs of her. A collection, you could call it at this point.

You didn't pass up the opportunity to take pictures in every corner of the tennis court, every time she and Billy played together, and you'd even have more if you'd taken pictures when she played against Tommy as well, but you didn't want to expose him to a jealous feud with Billy.

Likewise, you were more than content with the other occasions; like your personal favorites, the family dinners at which you were frequently included. After the food was served, you proceeded to ask the three of them to pose before eating, just so you could have the privilege of watching that gorgeous face for as many seconds as you wanted later at night.

It always amused you to see him smiling in all the photos, so flattered thinking that he was the one you wanted to immortalize in the memories.

The end justified the means, right?

You let out a small gasp, arching your back in pleasure when, as you stilled your needy entrance, you grabbed another photograph, the bonfire photograph...

"Oh, Wanda!" you moaned, feeling your climax about to burst, clenching around your own fingers.

"Why is it that you only take pictures of Billy when I'm around?" Wanda confronted you, once the twins went to sleep. A great day at their University awaited the next day, unlike Wanda and you, who could stay awake as long as you wanted.

Wanda occasionally held bonfires in the garden of her house. She cordially invited you to join them, and after a few minutes, you were all dressed up and on your way to her house, when you were already comfortable in your pajamas, ready to get into your bed.

And once you were alone, she placed her chair in front of yours, and asked you that question that caught you off guard. You had just taken a picture of her with the twins before they left.

"What?" You exclaimed, pretending to be clueless to buy yourself more time to come up with an excuse.

"Or better yet, why don’t you ever accept seeing Billy exclusively? Only when I'm present," she repeated, leaning towards you.

The air thickened around you, each breath torturous as if you were inhaling the very essence of your dread. Your heart pounded, a relentless drum echoing in the cavern of your chest, each beat reverberating through your bones and threatening to shatter your composure.

"I want Billy as a friend, I don't want me accepting outings or taking pictures of him alone to get him more excited than he probably is," you replied, almost all in one breath.

Wanda's eyes narrowed, her gaze piercing through your weak defenses, "Are you sure that's the only reason, (Y/N)? Or is there something else you're not telling me?"

You felt exposed, as if she could see right through your clumsy excuses.

"I... I don't want to give him false hope," you hesitated, trying to maintain your composure.

"False hope?" Wanda scoffed, her tone full of skepticism. "Then, why taking those pictures in the first place? Who do you wanna see, hm?"

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat growing by the second. "It's… memories," you protested, but the conviction in your voice was waning.

Wanda tilted her head, scrutinizing you with a mix of frustration and something else you couldn't quite place.

"Bullshit!” She exclaimed. “Why do you always make sure I'm around? Is it because you need a buffer? Or is it because you're more interested in someone else?”

Her words were heavy and loaded with implication. Your mind struggled to form a coherent response, but the truth was clawing its way to the surface, threatening to break free.

“I...-"

She didn't let you finish, "Is it me?" She insisted. "Are you using Billy to get closer to me?"

"Wanda, please, it's not like that," you pleaded, but her words had struck a nerve. She could sense it, therefore, she leaned in even closer, her lips almost brushing your ear. You felt your skin reacting through goosebumps immediately.

"Stop lying. You think I can't see through you, like my son? You're pathetic, hiding behind your excuses. If you have something to say, say it now," she hissed, her breath hot against your skin.

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat almost choking you.

"No, nothing..." you stammered, but the words wouldn't come.

Wanda's grip on your knee tightened further, her nails digging into your skin.

"You're infuriating. If you can't even be honest with yourself, how do you expect to be honest with anyone else?" She said, her voice a low growl.

“I… I better go,” was all you managed to respond. You never realized how weak you were until the Wanda Maximoff was so close to you, forcing you to face the consequences of your impulsive and not-so-wise acts.

Her eyes glinted with a dangerous determination. She wasn't going to let you off the hook so easily. Her hand slid from your knee up to your thigh, keeping you in place.

"You think you can keep hiding? From me?" Her voice was a seductive murmur that sent shivers down your spine.

You tried to pull away, but her grip tightened. "Wanda, please," you whispered, your voice trembling. You refused to do this at all costs, even though it was what you deserved.

"No more lies. I want the truth, and I'm going to get it," her other hand moved to your waist, pulling you even closer to her.

Your heart pounded wildly, your body not knowing whether to tremble of fear and desire.

"I... I don't know what you want me to say," you stammered, trying to keep your composure.

Wanda's hand moved higher up your thigh, her nails lightly grazing your skin through the fabric. "Oh, but you do," she countered. "You're scared, aren't you? Scared of what you feel. Scared of what I might do if you admit it. So scared that my poor, poor son has to suffer from your cowardice."

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat almost choking you.

"No, it’s..." you began.

And once again, she didn't give you a chance to finish. Her hand moved to your chin, tilting your face up so you were forced to meet her gaze.

"Look at me, darling. I want to see your eyes when you tell me the truth," she demanded, her voice a low growl.

Your eyes met hers, and the intensity of her green orbes was almost too much to bear.

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision.

"I... I can't," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Wanda's grip on your chin tightened, her nails digging into your skin. "Yes, you can. And you will," she insisted, her voice brooking no argument. Her other hand moved between your legs, pressing your core with a tight squeeze, making you yelp and let the first few tears spill out of your eyes. You felt so helpless, regretting every life decision that led you to this very instant.

"Do you want me?" She questioned, with a voice so firm it sounded more like a statement.

"Yes," you finally admitted.

Wanda's eyes shone with satisfaction, "Oh, my good girl. That's all I needed to hear," she murmured, her lips brushing against yours.

Her hand moved from your chin to the back of your neck, pulling you into a searing kiss that left you breathless. You could only describe it intense and fervorous, her tongue exploring every inch of your mouth, without even asking for permission. Just taking you as if she had always owned you, and maybe, she did.

Just as you were about to lose yourself in her lips, Wanda abruptly pulled away, leaving you gasping for air.

"This is your punishment for toying with my son's feelings," she established. "You don't get to have me, not after what you've done. Now go."

[lookingformoondrop]

ok but Can you image the total shit show it’d be if reader somehow rizzed up BOTH Andrew and Ashley?? 😨 literally preying. Like imagine reader is not necessarily popular, but they definetly are one of the most attractive people in the class if not the most

Andrew Graves x Reader x Ashley Graves

TW: Some nasty cat fights between the Graves siblings, everyone has a potty mouth, mentions of unaliving eachother, not proofread, reader just wanted a cookie.

♥︎Notes: This was actually so fun to write. I always love writing arguments between my two favorite assholes and watching it burn from there. Enjoy this messy headcannon and sorry it took so long<3.♥︎

Someone call the police, ain't no one coming out of this alive.

First, we gotta start with how you rizzed up the siblings. Starting with Andrew,

I can already see that to get through Andrew's heart, you gotta be funny.

Yes I know that this brooding son of a bitch is dressed in only dark colors, but he values some humor and I feel like the way through his heart is that.

You were in class chatting with a classmate near Andrew's desk when the classmate brought up your history teacher. Uptight, strict, and a prick, you said, "If he berates me anymore for my red pen, his head will go so far up his ass he'll find his own bullshit."

Unexpectedly, both of you heard a snort. Searching for the source, you saw Andrew covering his mouth with his hand, horrified by the sound he had just made.

You smiled at him and brushed off the snort to the classmate, "I think we're hearing things."

That truly made his heart flutter.

He had started sitting closer to you after that. Whenever he got ready in the mornings for school, an extra step in his routine was to hope that you were coming too.

"Hey Andrew," you walked by Andrew's desk.

"Y -Y/N! Hi..." Andrew mentally cussed himself our for the stutter.

It was dumb...really dumb.

But it made Andrew smile and feel giddy when he walked home.

I feel like Andrew would be very tame when it came to his feelings for the reader.

He'd blush when you're around and check in with you to make sure you're okay. He'd be too embarrassed to actually ask you out, but he would definitely try to find excuses to hang around you.

Now, the only natural explanation for Ashley's involvement with you would be that she saw her brother with a dumbass grin one day and HAD to investigate.

So, how did you rizz up Ashley?

Well, it's simple, really,

She went to your house to get a clear look at you and saw you dancing through the window,

You were fun and disgustingly too kind.

("Idiot")

But somehow, that fun energy intrigued Ashley. You would smile at her randomly when she corssed the street. You had no idea who she was, and yet that smile irked Ashley (in a somehow pleasant way).

"Hey guys!" She cheerfully entered the classroom doorway, a spring in her step.

Andrew turned to look at the voice and immediately felt a muscle in his forehead twitch. "Great," he thought, "another one of Ashley's ploys so that she can harass any woman out of my life."

You, of course, were baffled at seeing this girl suddenly love up on you, but judging by Andrew's murderous smile towards her, you figured they were related somehow.

But instead of Ashley being an ass towards the reader, she began to cling to their arm.

This began a looooong sequence of events where it would go one of the following ways,

You'd go to a spot around town, invite one of the Graves siblings, and no matter how secluded, isolated, unknown, or illegal said spot was, the other Graves sibling would find and join you.

This definitely opens the possibility of more intense sibling fights.

I say intense, but it's more like,

"SAY HER NAME ONE MORE TIME ASHLEY AND I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!"

"DO IT ANDY, DO IT, I DARE YOU. WHAT WOULD MY Y/N THINK ABOUT A MURDERER, YOU FUCKFACE!"

The fights would get so loud that the neighbors would call the police

By the time the police came to knock at the door, Ashley was pulling Andrew's hair and trying to put him in the washing machine, while Andrew was clawing at Ashley's face and trying to smack her head against said machine.

When Andrew (and for some reason) Ashley came to school, you were startled by how banged up both of them became. Still, when you asked about it, all they did was brush you off (and stomp on each other's toes when you weren't looking).

While they did loath each other for trying to steal Y/N from one another, they never doubted the protection they felt they owed to Y/N.

Some random classmate decided to hit on you and make you verryyyy uncomfy. When you recounted the tale to Andrew, he refused to leave you alone for weeks, constantly fantasizing about bashing the guys face in.

ASHLEY ON THE OTHER HAND would absolutely demolish any shithead who tried hitting on you. "They needed to be punished!" Is the last thing she said, and the last time you ever saw that classmate.

Was it risky? Yes. Did Andrew scold her for it? Yes. Did either one of them regret it? Hell no.

Overall, the entire relationship is a complete shit show. And even if you begged them to play nice, they'd still fight over you.

"Ashley, can you help me? I can't reach that cookie jar."

Ashley sprung up from her seat. "Sure thing, N/M~" But just as Ashley was going to reach for the jar, Andrew pushed her into a pile of trash bags in the kitchen and proceeded to grab the jar for you.

"Here you go, Y/N," Andrew smiled at you while you panicked on who to check in with first.

Suddenly, from the pile of trashbags came, "Andrew, you ass!"

Fight or flight kicked in, and you immediately bolted out of their kitchen. Having remembered plenty of their fights, you decided that for today, you were perfect content with just going home. That was enough Graves for today...

"ASS-KISSER!"

"BROWN-NOSER!"

Yeah, that was plenty of Graves for today.

Thank you for the ask!<3

[nova-amor]

༘☁︎⋆ ◜ 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮? ◞

"eyes forward, pretty girl," he leaned over to whisper in your ear, the warmth of his breath causing heat to rise to your cheeks, your teeth gnawing at the plump flesh of your bottom lip. "keep 'em legs wide open and just relax, baby." his warm hand slipped beneath the fabric of your skirt, calloused finger tips brushing against the lace edges of your underwear.

it was inappropriate— to fuck in a movie theatre was scandalous, definitely against the law and could get you in major trouble if you two were caught. but something about the risk made you grow wetter, adrenaline coursing through your veins as he rubbed at the wet spot forming on your crotch. you tugged the thin blanket a little further up onto your shoulders, providing the perfect barrier to shield your activities from the rest of the theatre patrons.

"if you keep squirming like that, sweetheart, someone's gonna notice," he purred into your ear, a ghost of a lick left on your earlobe as he nudged your underwear to the side. "don't think you want that, do you? or, maybe you do… you want someone to catch us, huh? want someone to see how pathetic and desperate you get for your boyfriend's fingers?"

you shook your head in disagreement, lying to not only him but yourself. struggling to control your breathing pattern as he rubbed tight circles and squares around your clit. your legs twitched, foot tapping against the floor as you fixated your gaze on the movie playing rather than the familiar sweet stretch of your walls engulfing your boyfriend's thick digit.

"breathe f'me, sweetness, don't want you to pass out," he chuckled, curling his finger into your squishy walls. the filthy squelching noises of your sopping cunt were overshadowed by the movie's well-timed soundtrack clips and action sequences. "such a good girl f'me— fuckin' pussy's gushin’ all around me. you like this, don't you? love it when i use you like the slut you are?"

you rested your head on his shoulder, choking down the pathetic moans and whimpers that threatened to escape your lips. he slipped another finger into you and then another, plowing three fingers deeper and deeper inside you— stretching you out beyond your usual limit. you were growing delirious, hips bucking up relentlessly to chase the sweet release building at the pit of your stomach.

"gonna cum f'me, pretty girl? can feel your walls startin' t' milk my fingers," he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, hooking his fingers into your sensitive g-spot. the heel of his palm dug into your clit, each rut of his fingers into you stimulating your sensitive nub. "that's it, baby, fuck yourself on my fingers— fuckin' cum around my fingers."

black spots flashed across your eyes, your orgasm almost completely blinding you. your hips stuttered, body convulsing in the cushions of the theatre seat— there certainly would be a wet patch on the seat after the movie was done.

"such a good girl, you did so good f'me," his voice was distant, your head practically in the clouds as he retracted his fingers from deep inside you. he brought his fingers up to your lips, the lights of the movie causing his fingers to glimmer with the clear sheen of your release. "now open that pretty mouth and clean my fingers f'me— that's it, be a good girl and suck. maybe i'll give you some dick in the parking lot as a treat later."

satoru gojo, takuma ino, connie springer, zeke yeagar, natsuo todoroki, shota aizawa, kei tsukishima, tōru oikawa, kim hong-jin, gary sanderson

[ajortga]

sequence of events

pairing: jenna ortega x crutched?! fem reader

word count: 1.6k+

authors note: thank you so much for 800 followers, i appreciate each and every one of you. <3. my writing did not clearly match the image i wanted but i love making your requests come to life.

-

based off request!

-

Hi, I just recently started reading your blog but I really like the way you describe feelings, it’s simply amazing and since requests are open, I would like to ask if you could make a fem! reader who is disabled and walks on crutches, but one day Jenna accidentally pushes her and the reader almost falls into the pool and after fluff I know it’s stupid, but if you don’t want to, don’t write, it’s just my request, if you write, thank you so much! Best wishes!

-

It was not a rare sighting whenever you would be the person to catch the sympathetic stares that people shot at you whenever you walked around just perfectly.

Well, perfectly fine with crutches.

It was like almost every single day that you walked, people would slightly move to the side and give you a small nod. Or maybe they would apologize a bit too much. You think it’s happened too many times for you to count anymore. 

Ever since you were little, your left foot was physically paralyzed. You couldn’t go anywhere without having people staring at you a bit too long for your comfort. You’ve just gotten used to it.

The worst part about it was not being able to kick your feet in the air happily whenever you read a rom com. God it stunk because you would smile widely and only your right foot would be swinging, which would cause you to accidentally knock something down on your bedside table.

With the sun of summer beginning to make its grand departure, Liz, one of your best friends, planned the whole day for you two to experience the “actual hot girl summer day.” 

The months before summer, every year you’d make a whole list, preferably 6 pages long of all the summer-y things you’d spend the summer doing. But every year you’d only cross out less than a fifth of your bucket list. 

You glide your sunscreen against your skin and to the slope of your nose and tuck your hair behind your ears while watching a show displayed on your laptop.

Once you’re finished, you slowly balance yourself on your crutches and make a call to Liz.

She picks up on the first ring as you squeak out a, “I’m ready!”

-

Liz 💐: i’m here under the tree 

You slowly crutch your way out of your house and to the spot Liz’s car was at. God, there was one time that you were walking to look for her and she jumped from the damn bushes, it made you scream so loudly and almost fall on your ass.

Of course you bring out your phone, zooming into her location from the Find My Iphone app, letting out a sigh of relief when you see that her phone was where she indicated. You stand still, elbowing your crutches before sliding your phone back in your pocket.

Your steps escalate a little quicker, your crutches picking up the pace as you glance at the bush you fell in almost 6 months ago. You hate that your driveway was always parked with random cars. Basically all your friends had to resort to another location. She was still pretty far, out of sight for now.

You bring out your phone when you feel it ring again, glancing down at what it said.

Liz 💐: you look like a monster on roblox that’s just bouncing in the same spot.

Okay, what? – You narrow your eyes, not understanding how she could’ve possibly seen-

Something emerges from the pushes as your friend pops out and screams, making you scream so loudly, then start cussing her out, threatening her with one of your crutches. How the hell did she manage to do it again?

“LIZ, I’M GOING TO FUCKING-”

-

Jenna was sitting against the chairs you would see at any community pool, reading her book about tips in life, sunglasses on.

Yes, it had taken you an hour later, with Liz having to frantically push you into her car and paying for the food you wanted, for you to be somewhat sane.

After a little bit of shopping and buying new books to make you relive a rom com story, Liz holds the door for you as you walk out to the pool. Jenna’s eyes raise to the noise, looking at the door and she swears you’re the most beautiful girl she’s ever seen. Her eyes would be cursed every time she closed her eyes, your face popping up every time she dreamt. It takes her a moment but she flares up in realization, because she’s seen you before! 

She met you once when she had bumped into you from one of the coffee shops. You both had talked for an hour straight. The freckled cheeked girl remembered how alive humanity felt for her the next couple of days because of that. You both were just talking about how the seasons were so intriguing. 

People being people made her feel good whenever she thought about life for the week following.

Her eyes trail over yours, then the pattern of your nose, the way the sun kisses your cheeks in just the right way. Your hair glows in the sun as soon as you step in the light, the breeze perfectly blowing against it. You were ethereal.

Wow, was all the brunette could think as she put down her book, losing all of her interest in it because you had taken all of it. That book was stinky dinky if it meant being able to say hi to you once again and somehow impress you. 

She got up and put the book into her bag, standing up and walking behind you. As she walked beside the pool, right in front of her, she took off her sunglasses. It would be awkward if you didn’t recognize her because she had them on. 

Once she took them off, she fiddled with the lens, her fingertips lightly brushing over it to get a speck of dust off.

Next thing she knew, her shoe had got caught against bumpy brick floors and she was falling face flat into you.

She squeals, trying to catch herself so she won’t fall straight against you, especially since you were unaware, your crutches holding you steady. 

You’re a bit too focused on your friend’s deep conversation to notice what was going on, until something slams right behind your back and straight up sends you flying into the pool with a scream.

“Oh my god!” Liz yells as you bend, crutches landing on the ground nicely. Unfortunately, it was the opposite case for you as you splash into the water, the coldness making you yell. You couldn’t move. You can’t swim, how the hell does someone swim if one leg doesn’t work, you cry out for help, spluttering out water as your working leg flaps uselessly up and down the water. 

“Liz! I can’t-”

What the fuck had Jenna just done? Immediately she used the stairs right where you were and crawled down, the life guard was way too busy talking to someone to even notice the commotion. God she couldn’t let you drown-

-

You were coughing, choking on water that did not feel good at all. Your chest felt tight and hurt like shit every time you breathed in deeply. Liz and the pretty girl you recognized from when you met her at the bookstore were yelling in your face, asking you questions that just sounded like gibberish.

“Are you bouquet?”

“Ho mice god!”

“How the bell bid chu mop sea urchin?”

What. The. Hell.

“I am so sorry!” The brunette says, wrapping you in a towel and setting your crutches to your sides. You were a little too busy admiring her freckles to be mad. “I just remembered you from the other day and wanted to say hi and I fucking tripped and-”

You blink, slapping your chest over and over again as you slowly grin, that probably looked a little foolish and silly. “ ‘Ts okay, it was an accident,” you mumble, voice a little croaky as the warmth from the sun soaks up your damp clothes.

It was definitely not okay to Jenna, she thinks you might have dived head first, because now you were looking at her and grinning. Shouldn’t you be upset? God you were all toothy and everything, oh god! Did she make you crack your brain?

She should not be thinking you looked like you just came out of a movie when she accidentally pushed you into the pool!

Jenna did not know what to do, just rubbing the towel that was marshmallowed over your body. Your friend looked like she was about to explode. 

-

Jenna, in fact, did make it up to you. Because an hour later three of you guys were getting Jamba Juice smoothies and tacos. 

“God, I swear I wasn’t trying to kill you,” She rambled, mouth a little full, you noticed the way that she always used her hands as an illustrator while talking. “I just wanted to see if it was you and ask how you were and-”

“Jenna, I swear it’s fine,” you brush off, sitting on the chair while Jenna was standing up, pacing back and forth. 

“It wouldn’t have been fine if you had died, Y/N!” Jenna and Liz speak at the same time, making you sip your smoothie. Seriously, you were fine. Your clothes were for the most part, dry, and it just was a struggle to take a deep breath at some moments.

“But.. If you want and are willing..” You trail off, squirming to grab your phone as you swipe it to your contacts and place it in Jenna’s hands with one of your eyebrows raised. 

“Deal!” She said, grinning as she booped her fingers into your phone.

It was a little late at night when you crawled into bed, your right foot taking lead as you hide under the covers. You and Jenna had texted for a while, and you just got another message.

Yay! You just got a Jamba Juice gift card from your friend, Jenna!

jenna the head cracker: juice

You almost cackle, immediately scrolling through gift cards and tapping on one that was just right.

Hooray! You just sent your friend Jenna the Head Cracker a non-trip shoe deal!

you: shoes

[pucksandpower]

Roll the Dice

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: You and Charles throw your own private celebration after one of the best races of the season

Warnings: 18+ content

The roar of the crowd still rings in your ears as you make your way through the paddock to find Charles. Your heart is bursting with pride after watching him fight his way to a hard-earned P2.

Las Vegas may be a new circuit but Charles drove it like he had been racing here for years. He made the Ferrari dance in ways you didn’t think were possible, squeezing every last hundredth out of each corner.

You spot him up ahead, finally free from the mob of reporters and post-race press conference. He’s leaning against the wall near the media pen in a rare moment of solitude, eyes closed and head tilted back, no doubt mentally replaying each complex sequence of braking points and apexes.

You take a moment just to look at him — the way his damp curls cling to his forehead, the zipper of his race suit undone and its sleeves tied at his waist to reveal soaked fireproofs that cling to every contour of his chest. He’s breathing heavily, a post-race flush still clinging to his cheeks.

He’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

As you draw nearer, his eyes blink open and immediately lock with yours. Relief, affection, and something more primal flash through them as a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“Y/N!” He shouts, hurrying over to sweep you up in a massive hug.

You squeeze him tight, not caring at all that he’s drenched in sweat and sticky with champagne. “I’m so proud of you!” You beam.

He sets you down, his hands lingering on your waist. “I couldn’t have done it without my good luck charm.”

You playfully smack his shoulder. “Oh stop, this was all you! I can’t believe the drive you put on out there. You were incredible!”

Charles glances down shyly. “Thank you, mon cœur. It was a good race tonight.”

“A great race,” you correct him, “You drove incredibly. I was on the edge of my seat the whole time, watching you battle with Max and Checo like that. It was the best thing I’ve seen all season.”

Taking his hand, you lead him away from the crowds. “Come on, let’s get you out of here. I think it’s time we celebrate!”

A flight in the early afternoon means you both decide to forego the wild Vegas parties and instead make your way straight to the hotel. Once you’re in your suite, Charles heads for the shower while you pour champagne. When he emerges in a billow of steam, you hand him a glass.

“To my champion!” You declare, clinking your glass against his.

Charles smiles graciously but you catch a flash of disappointment in his eyes. “I’m hardly a champion finishing P2.”

You fix him with a serious look. “That was the drive of a champion tonight. You left you heart on the track out there. If it wasn’t for that safety car, you would’ve won. I would have bet my life on it.”

He looks thoughtful as he takes a sip. “You really think so?”

“I know so! The way you managed to regain the lead from Max? And then from Checo? The move you pulled in the last lap to take P2? Incredible. My only regret is that you don’t have a car that would give you an opportunity to compete like this all season.”

Charles sighs. “The team is doing their best with what we’ve got.”

You set your glass down and rest your hands on his bare chest. “I know and you’re so patient with them. But a driver like you? You deserve to be fighting at the front in every single race.”

Looking into your eyes, Charles brushes a strand of hair from your face. “We’ll get there, I know it. This result today, it shows progress.”

“You’re right. It does,” you smile up at him. “And when you do get a car worthy of you, the rest of the grid better watch out. Because you are going to do great things, Charles Leclerc.”

Charles gazes at you tenderly before pulling you in for a kiss. Your lips move together unhurriedly, his hands trailing down your back.

When you finally break apart, breaths mingling, he gives you a mischievous look.

“You know, I never did properly thank you for being my good luck charm today.” His fingers toy with the hem of your shirt.

You bite your lip coyly. “I think the good luck charm wants to properly congratulate her driver on the podium. I want to make you feel good. You more than earned it.”

Charles grins and tugs your shirt up over your head. His lips find your neck as he backs you towards the bed, hands roaming your newly exposed skin.

You fumble with the ties on his sweatpants, shoving them down as the back of your legs hit the plush mattress. He gently lowers you down, hovering over you.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmurs, eyes dark with want.

You pull him down for another heated kiss, reveling in the feel of his solid weight above you. Your hands grasp at his back, nails digging in slightly to leave crescent marks on his skin.

Charles groans into your mouth at the sensation, pressing his hips down firmly against yours. You can feel his arousal even through the thin fabric still separating you.

Breaking the kiss, you trail your lips along his stubbled jaw to his ear. “I want you so much,” you whisper hotly.

He shudders in response, hands gripping your waist. “Take what you want, mon amour. I’m all yours.”

You slip a hand between your bodies, palming him through his boxers. He hisses in pleasure, bucking into your touch.

“These need to come off. Now,” you demand.

Charles obliges eagerly, stripping the last barrier between you away. You waste no time to wrap your legs around his waist, gasping as he enters you in one smooth motion.

You move together unhurriedly at first, simply reveling in the feeling of being joined so intimately. Charles peppers your face and neck with tender kisses as your hands caress every inch of his back and shoulders you can reach.

As the pleasure builds, your hips pick up speed, chasing release. Charles shifts his angle, hitting that sweet spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

“Just like that! Don’t stop!” You cry out, nails digging into his shoulders again.

He increases his pace, pounding into you relentlessly. You feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter within you.

“Charles, I’m so close ...” you gasp.

“Let go, mon cœur. Come for me,” he growls breathlessly into your ear.

His words send you tumbling over the edge with a wordless cry. Your vision goes white as intense ecstasy washes over you. Distantly you’re aware of Charles following right after, your name a reverent sigh on his lips.

As you float back down, Charles collapses on top of you. You hold him close, heart threatening to burst from the love and pride swelling within you.

Charles presses his lips to your forehead. “Have I mentioned that you’re the best girlfriend ever? I don’t know what I did to deserve someone as wonderful as you. But I’m so glad you’re here with me through all of this. I love you so much.”

You grin and pull him in for a kiss. “You deserve the world, Charles Leclerc. And I plan on spending every day of our lives proving that to you.”

[lovelyscourge]

✧. ┊ gender neutral reader; traffic light safeword system; praise and (light) degradation; nipple play; inner thigh slaps; (light) dacryphilia; bondage.

You groan when the sharp pain on your inner thigh sends a jolt of pleasure through your body. You didn't think the prickling feeling on your skin would turn you into a sticky mess, it's almost embarrassing.

Good thing I'm used to you being a filthy slut.

A thin layer of sweat covers your body and I can still see the glistening evidence of how much of a good pet you are. You did such a good job eating me out, making me cum so perfectly as I fucked your face.

What a good fuckdoll you are.

Your wrists are tied behind your back, you can do little more than tense your arms with each slap. Trying to close your legs is useless, I'm kneeling right in between them to make sure they stay open.

It's hard to keep counting when you're gasping, squirming, and stuttering the syllables. Your skin is getting more sensitive, each strike feels stronger than the last — even if it isn't —.

You're throbbing, craving the feeling of my hand accidentally brushing against where you actually need it.

You should've known better than to be so bratty yesterday, little dove. The tears welling up in your eyes are falling down your cheeks, — you're so beautiful when you cry, baby — but it's your high-pitched whimper that makes me pause.

’Color?’ I ask, moving to kiss your tears and give you a gentler touch.

‘Yellow.’

I nod, humming, and continue to plant soft kisses down your jaw and neck. ‘You took it so well, little dove. You know I wanted twenty, but someone as pretty as you can get me to be just fine with sixteen,' I playfully tease before nibbling your shoulder.

‘So, so pretty,’ I continue, my lips follow downward to your chest. One nipple gets my tongue, swirling around it then pressing the nub and taking it into my mouth to suck; the other is being equally teased by my hand.

Moans tumble from your lips and you throw your head backward in ecstasy, the relief from the pain feels good. I giggle and give you a light bite, muffling a moan of my own when I start rubbing my clit.

You're a pretty sight when you look like a filthy whore, little dove. Bitten, slapped, disheveled, face flushed and leaking and throbbing for me. You were made to be my little plaything.

‘Color?’

‘Green,’ you barely finish saying it when your lips part to gasp. I'm finally touching you properly, using my own slickness to help rub your sensitive spot while kissing your neck. As if you even needed more lubrification.

Your mind blanks for a fleeting second when the earlier stimulation, the pain, and the sudden pleasure become one overwhelming feeling.

You moan and whimper, being touched just how you enjoy it, letting go of all bashfulness to make the sounds you know I love.

‘How does it feel, little dove?’ when I know you can barely register the question.

You manage to say something indecipherable and that only serves to make me need to see you coming undone, making a complete mess on my hand.

You're practically fucking yourself like a desperate slut, muttering a sequence of ‘Please, please, please".

‘So desperate,’ I mock sweetly, applying a bit more pressure while moving my hand to a faster rhythm. ‘And all mine.'

'Yours,' you moan, lost in the pleasure haze. You're so close. Your entire body tingles, the ropes are suddenly too tight, you want something to hold on to, to move, but you're at my mercy.

‘Mhm, mine to slap, mine to kiss, mine to fuck and mine to make cum,’ whispered words followed by my teeth in your earlobe. 'Be a good pet and make a mess for me, baby.'

You don't need to be told twice.

[mirai-e-jump]

Animage December 2024 Issue Kamen Rider Gavv ft. Hino Yusuke Interview (translation below)

Publication: November 9, 2024

Letting his fighting spirit "melt" into his bullets

Even within the Kamen Rider series, which has enjoyed a history spanning over half a century, there are only a few who have been chosen to become a Kamen Rider with as much tragic resolve weighing on their shoulders as Karakida Hanto. Hanto's mother was kidnapped by a Granute when he was a child, and while investigating the Granutes, his mentor, Shioya Soji, loses his life. In order to avenge Shioya's death, he decided to accept the offer to undergo a life threatening remodification surgery from Suga Kenzo, someone who's researching a method to exterminate the Granutes. The result of his suffering is that he obtained the power to transform into Kamen Rider Valen.

Sometimes, he guesses a Granutes true identity based on the slightest bit of evidence, other times, he shows his kindness in order to support a girl who's chasing her dreams, and at other times, he shows his playful side by instinctively posing when the cameras are pointed at him……Being able to calmly consider the situation and remain open to one's emotions like that may be what's needed to confront the "monsters" that prey on people's happiness.

Although allies like Suga are currently present, Hanto's still pursuing information about the Granutes on his own. Will he be able to reach the enemy responsible for taking his mother from him? We hope you'll watch as Kamen Rider Valen's battle intensifies. _

-This also expands the range of Hanto's feeling-

"Since his first transformation in episode 6, Hanto's also been active as a Kamen Rider."

Hino: After the first transformation episode, I received heartfelt messages from tons of people, such as, "I'm looking forward to seeing what Valen will do going forward." I was also impressed by the response to the sequence of events leading up to the transformation, with comments like, "They're depicting a setting similar to a Showa Rider in a Reiwa Rider."

"It was a very unrefined first transformation scene."

Hino: It was my first transformation, and I was just trying to keep up with the flow of the performance, so I acted with conflicting feelings. I think it was because of the way Director Morota Satoshi said, "Let's make it this kind of taste," and created it on the spot that a sense of liveliness was born. This is one of my personal favorite scenes, as since I started this job, I've been working hard and doing my best, and I felt as though it connected me and Hanto.

"The avant garde exchange with Kamen Rider Gavv in episode 7 was also funny. He calls himself Valen, a name he associates with Valentine (laughs)."

Hino: That scene was fun to act out (laughs). I got into it as best as I could imagine, and the "In the end, the concept is still chocolate….." scene was given the OK with just one take. Still, I had a hard time at first deciding on which of the emotions from my previous performances to keep consistent. For everyone watching, a week has passed, but Hanto's just fought his mentor's enemy out of revenge, and he's still physically damaged. However, Sugi-san (Director Sugihara) told me to go all out, and since I myself like comedic scenes, I didn't hold back.

"Is there anything memorable from filming the transformation scene?"

Hino: For the fixed transformation pose from the second time onwards, I couldn't close the lever of the gun (Valen Buster) fully, or the Gochizou would pop out when I swung it downwards too aggressively, so I had to do alot of retakes until I got used to it (laughs). I remember having to work at it until I could make cool gestures and movements like a Kamen Rider. One of the Directors gave me some advice about the transformation, and it really struck me. It was, "It's a privilege for the chosen ones to be able to say "Henshin," and the word transformation must convey how the character is feeling as they fight." So, every time I transform, I'm conscious of how to convey my emotions in that moment.

"Once again, please tell us your impression of Hanto."

Hino: Hanto became lonely after losing his mother, met his mentor when he was acting like a delinquent, became his apprentice, and is looking for monsters in his work as a writer. He's someone who's had many experiences that I haven't had. I was conscious of this past before we started filming, and I thought that he was nothing like me. But as I talked with Screenwriter Komura Junko-san and Sugi-san, it was almost like Hanto came to me. While respecting what was different between me and him, I began to draw from my own clumsiness and roughness in order to become closer to Hanto.

"Considering he has a passionate side, and a serious backbone despite being silly, Hanto seems to have a wide range."

Hino: That's right. Shouma's pure and Sachika's a gyaru, but I think there are situations and relationships that are created by each and every one of Hanto's "faces." I'm challenging myself to widen my range, and not settle for, "This is just how Hanto is."

"You're thinking, "If this isn't Hanto, then this is," right?"

Hino: Yes. If I perform as Hanto, then I become Hanto, or to put it another way, it's my job to create Hanto, and I consider it rewarding.

"In episode 9, the most recent episode, we got a glimpse of Hanto's more mature side in a scene with Kirari."

Hino: I wanted to express Hanto's clumsy yet passionate attitude toward children in the scene where he consults with Kirari-chan in a friendly and helpful manner. In the scene before that, when the safety buzzer is set off, he's mistaken for a suspicious person even though he didn't mean it that way, which is typical of Hanto (laughs). I think it's a funny scene that shows off Hanto's cuteness.

-We hope that Hanto will be rewarded one day-

"What are your impressions of Kaji Kotaro-san, the Suit Actor who plays Valen?"

Hino: I feel that Kaji-san has a passionate kindness within him, and that he's pulling me along. Valen's actions are also broken down into a fighting style that's typical of Hanto, and I realized that we were creating one role together. We sometimes talk over a few drinks, and in a positive way, we have friendly competition, where we can say what we want to say to each other.

"What do you find important when doing post recording?"

Hino: Hanto has a wide range of expressions, but when he transforms into Valen, he's fighting a Granute, so I'm aware that he's in a state of hostility and wanting revenge. I try to avoid feeling strangely calm, I always act with the feeling that I'm risking my life.

"Maybe it's like you're switching over into battle mode."

Hino: That might be it. When I speak as Hanto, I go back to my natural self, so I think that this is fine.

"How's the atmosphere on set?"

Hino: Hide has a strong sense of responsibility as the main character, and thanks to his leadership, we were able to communicate with each other from the very beginning, and as filming progressed, the vibes between Shouma, Sachika, and Hanto were established. Hide and Miyabecchi tease me in a nice way, so I think we've established an equal relationship. In regards to Hide, I've always played younger brother characters, so I was alittle nervous that "the younger generation has appeared" (laughs), but he has a pure, brotherly cuteness to him that naturally makes me want to spoil him.

"Speaking of Hanto, we think the presence of his mentor, Shioya Soji, who was mentioned earlier, is significant."

Hino: Komatsu Toshimasa-san's performance gave me goosebumps…..! It's natural, subtle, convincing, yet very unconstrained. I feel a sense of respect for him and thought that I'd like to do a performance like that in the future. He's someone I truly want to call "mentor," and I think it was thanks to Komatsu-san that I was able to cry real tears in the scenes where Hanto cries thinking about his mentor.

"Now that Shioya's passed away, his interactions with Suga Kenzo at his lab are striking."

Hino: Suga's making a mess out of Hanto's life (laughs), but the scenes with Suga are also interesting to perform. The very beginning of the show is focused on Shouma and Sachika, and Hanto and Suga, but it was a valuable experience for me to be able to perform one on one with Asanuma Shintaro-san, as I learned alot from him. I'd seen some of the anime that Asanuma-san was in, but when I looked up his appearances, I was shocked and thought, "He was in this one too?!" I'm happy that we communicate with each other on set, talking about all sorts of things, from matters relating to personal life and acting.

"He's a reliable senior who's the complete opposite of Suga."

Hino: That's true (laughs). I think the gap between him and his role is interesting. I'm working together with him with alot of respect.

"Do you have a favorite anime?"

Hino: Most recently, I like "The Dangers in My Heart." Once I became an adult, I stopped watching romance series like that out of embarrassment, but when I watched The Dangers in My Heart for the first time in awhile, it made my heart skip a beat! I'd say that it gives off a sense of purity that only a middle school student can have, and injects you with emotions that we can't get in the real world….it's a really good series. I myself used to play soccer, so I watched alot of sports anime and manga such as "Haikyu!!," "Ace of Diamond," "SLAM DUNK," and "Major." Those are what got me addicted to watching real sports like the NBA.

"If you had to pick an anime that you especially like, what would it be?"

Hino: I love Kyoto Animation's "Beyond the Boundary," and not only have I seen the main TV series, but I've also watched the movie more than 10 times! I was in middle school at the time, and I used to imitate Kanbara Akihito, the main character who's obsessed with glasses, and say, "Pretty girls with glasses are nice, huh?" (laughs). I was so absorbed in it, that I even established a glasses research club at school using my authority as the student council president.

"Isn't that an abuse of power? (laughs)."

Hino: Of course, but it was an unofficial club, okay? (laughs). Now, I'll often watch live action movies and TV dramas in order to study acting, but before I became an actor, I was exposed to various works to the extent that I had a modest interest in them.

"In the future, are there any situations you'd like to perform as Hanto?"

Hino: Things like explosions are areas I haven't experienced yet. Falling into water……isn't a challenge I'm actively looking to take on (laughs). Personally, I'm interested in what would happen if Hanto were to experience something like love being directed toward him. Hanto lost his mother, and he's the type to have narrow, but deep relationships with people, so along with friendship and human affection, I think he's hungry for love. What I imagine is that in a peaceful world where he doesn't have to fight against the Granutes, Hanto will most likely develop a longing for family and a desire to overcome the trauma of losing his loved ones.

"Only painful things happen to him, so we hope it all works out for Hanto."

Hino: I really hope so. On the other hand though, there's something appealing about being unrewarded (laughs). While being the spice that enhances the excitement of Kamen Rider Gavv, I hope that Hanto will continue to be loved by everyone, and I too will continue to devote myself to Hanto with love and care every day!

[rallamajoop]

On Mia Winters, misogyny, and abuse

As should be pretty obvious by now, I love Mia Winters. I honestly think she’s one of the most compelling characters in this whole damn franchise.

But let me make clear: you don’t have to love her. Mia’s canonically done a lot of shady shit in her time, and her relationship with Ethan has real problems. There are perfectly viable interpretations where the only thing really holding it together is his own denial. Only I never seem to get to read any of those takes, because the most common characterisations Mia gets in fic are an irredeemable monster, or a cardboard cutout who exists only to be written out as quickly as possible. And to write Mia out to that degree doesn’t just do her character a disservice, it does Ethan a disservice, and a big one.

The amount of Mia-bashing I see out there in this fandom turns my stomach. It’s not just the slash fans who’d rather ship Ethan with another dude. I have seen Mia loudly bashed in tags on het or gen fic in which she does not even appear. I have seen male fans reviewing these games on youtube who treat her the exact same way. But it’s never more frustrating than when that hate comes from the same fans who’ll turn around and talk about characters like Chris or even Lady Dimitrescu (she who canonically abuses her and murders her servants, and, y’know, eats people without a shred of remorse) like they’re perfectly forgivable and have done no real wrong. And don’t get me wrong: I love Lady D, but I love her because she’s magnificently evil. Mia? Mia’s a whole lot more complicated.

But to really explain why this hate makes me so uncomfortable, I’m going to have to start with the start of Resident Evil 7, and Mia’s very first scenes in this whole franchise.

Let me quickly summarise the opening of that game. A man whose wife disappeared without explanation suddenly gets a message about her whereabouts. He travels to an isolated location, breaks in, and finds her. She denies ever sending him that message, and seems incredibly distressed that he’s there at all. They fight. It ends with him sinking an axe into her neck and shooting her several times with a handgun. But see, he didn’t do anything wrong! It was all self-defence! She started it! She was acting crazy!

If you didn’t spot it, the whole opening of RE7 reads uncomfortably like a story about a woman escaping an abusive relationship, then being tracked down and murdered by her ex.

Obviously, I am not here to tell you Ethan’s abusive. He’s not, we’ve got no reason to imagine he is. He was legitimately acting in self-defence.

But the fact the first thing Ethan has to do in this game is find the balls to kill his own wife ‒ that a whole new era of Resi games has opened with a sequence so easily read as a sympathetic justification for how a man might perfectly innocently track down his missing spouse and "have" to kill her – that made those opening minutes into by far the most uncomfortable part of this whole franchise for me. Shit like this really happens. I mean it, I will track down the fucking statistics on women who are murdered after trying to leave an abusive partner if I have to.

What happens to ‘Mia’ in the opening to RE8 isn’t much better: it's as textbook a fridging as any I’ve ever seen. Yes, it’s a fridging that gets retconned away later when she turns up alive, but the fact that’s even possible speaks to just how awful and confusing her death is. The game opens with Mia’s violent murder at the hands of this series’ longest running ‘hero’, and the event is framed entirely in terms of how awful it is for her husband. That's as frigid as a fridging gets.

The eventual reveal that the real Mia was just trapped alone in a cell being experimented on by a madwoman for god knows how long doesn’t actually make it better. The horror Mia goes through in both these games is a footnote, barely explored.

I bring these events up not to condemn the RE franchise, not to say that including these sequences was unconscionable, or that violence against women can never be shown in a horror title. A quick glance at my tumblr should demonstrate how much I adore these games. Tropes like fridging become problems only because they’re so ubiquitous they can come to define almost the only roles women get to play, not because any individual example is necessarily grounds for outrage. If anything, there’s just as much to analyse in all the hate thrown at characters like Ethan Winters (or his predecessor, Jonathan Harker) as a archtypical examples of sexism against men – backlash against the very idea of a male character in the disempowered role of horror victim, usually reserved for women.

But with this context in mind, my god is it uncomfortable to see people talk about Mia as irredeemable monster who deserves to suffer more. People who will valorise the likes of Chris Redfield, who didn’t even bother to stop to tell Ethan that’s not Mia, yet talk about Mia like being shot to death in her own living room was only what she deserved. That is just a whole load of yikes.

And given that both games open with Mia being violently killed by a male protagonist (twice in RE7, with the player in control), it sure is convenient how so many people have managed to ‘find’ the evidence that proves she’s the real villain. You don’t have to think too hard about Chris Redfield as a violent maniac or Ethan Winters being forced to kill his own wife if it’s okay to inflict violence on this woman. “Yes, but she shouldn’t have done [X]…” or even “But what if she’s the real abuser” is a narrative that gets thrown at real women in abusive relationships all the time – especially when the man is a friend of whoever’s casting judgement, or even a celebrity. Real world examples of this shit in the wild run the gamut from wild fan-takes on The Shining ‘proving’ that actually the abused wife was the ‘real’ abuser all along, right up to the ongoing hate campaign against Amber Heard. People don’t want to have to think badly of someone they admire, and will take any excuse to shift the blame. The stakes are infinitely lower when we’re talking about fictional characters, but the same pattern plays out.

And look, I do get it. It’s easy to go into these games and come out with a negative opinion of Mia. She’s the one who lures you into danger in RE7, acts all innocent, and then comes at Ethan with a chainsaw – and when you finally find out her big secret at the end, it turns out she was working for the people who created Eveline from the start! You’re really not given a lot of reasons to invest in Ethan and Mia’s relationship before she’s suddenly coming at him with a knife, and the fact she never does get to come clean to him in canon leaves a bad taste in the mouth.

It’s really easy to go into RE8, note all the glaring signs that Ethan’s relationship with Mia isn’t healthy, and draw your own conclusions about a woman we don’t hardly even see again for most of the runtime of the game. Half this goddamn fandom still seems to think Heisenberg is actually a lycan, ffs – most of what people think they know about Mia is more meme than fact, and the rest is pretty surface level. Basic media literacy is not exactly high out there in the tumblrweeds (let alone the rest of the internet).

But as for the idea that Mia’s responsible for all the horrors Ethan went through, people seem to forget that Mia herself went through so much worse. Ethan spent a day in the Bakers’ property, and a day in the village. Mia spent years trapped in the Bakers’ property, and days at least imprisoned in Miranda’s lab, knowing exactly how much danger her family were in, helpless to save them. She’s no innocent herself, but ye gods has she already suffered for her crimes.

So with all that out of the way, well, what’s the actual ‘evidence’ that Mia herself was abusive? No-one's coming into this one without some bias, but let’s at least give it a fair shake.

Right upfront, I want to recognise that in both fiction and reality, women can be abusers, and men can be victims. Abuse in heterosexual relationships is far more likely to occur with the man as the abuser, but the reverse does happen, and the fact culture at large can be so eager to cast the woman as the villain doesn’t make it any easier for the real male victims of abuse to get recognition and help. Society as a whole is still just really shitty about enabling or excusing real abuse.

But the idea that Mia was abusive has very little to back it up. Whatever you make of “her” interactions with Ethan at the start of the game, the fact remains: that’s not Mia, and the fact she’s acting so strangely is meant to be our clue that something much bigger than a little marital strife is going on here. Knowing all this doesn’t really make the scene where she’s violently executed less disturbing, but you can’t miss the hints we don’t yet know the full story.

So the question becomes, is there any evidence that the real Mia was abusive? I’ve dug into this one a bit before in my post about trying to figure out the timeline of exactly when Mia was replaced, but there are no definitive answers as to how long Miranda's been living in their house. To summarise a long post (and a surprisingly lively timeline of events from the days before the game begins): the most likely intent seems to be that Miranda’s been posing as Mia for less than a week, though a lot of the vibes of the scene give me the impression it’s been several weeks at least. Ultimately, that’s going to come down to your own interpretation.

The Mia mentioned in Ethan’s diary who blew up at him at the hospital could be the real Mia, but more likely isn’t: you can’t really use her to argue anything definitive, one way or another. The Mia from the flashback where Ethan gets the call from Rose’s doctor is the real Mia, but if you think getting upset when your husband brushes off your obvious distress over your daughter’s health makes you abusive, then nothing I say here is going to convince you otherwise.

The only ‘real’ evidence that Mia might be a problem is one line you might hear from Ethan while taking Rose to bed, and it is admittedly a red flag: your mother’s scary when she’s angry.

And to anyone whose whole hatred of Mia has been built backwards from this one line – especially anyone who’s grown up in a dysfunctional household themselves – hell, I get it. It is one really yikes thing for Ethan to say about his wife.

But in Mia’s defence, I can only point out that, well, yes, canonically, she is scary when she’s angry.

Oh, did I say angry? I meant fucking possessed.

And if Ethan’s bringing up the spectre of that time, even subconsciously, maybe that should be an even bigger clue that the Mia in this house right now isn’t Mia.

But what really shows this line for what it is is that we’ve seen the real Mia angry. We’ve seen her cold fury at Eveline, daring to go right back to asking ‘can we be a family now?’ within hours forcing Mia to assault her own husband with a chainsaw. We’ve seen her frustration at Ethan’s own denial, and we’ve seen her stalk out of the room when he blows off an important conversation for a call from work. We’ve seen her advance on Chris after he shut her down, demanding, Where is my husband? Where is my daughter?!

We have never seen her angry without real justification. Her anger is neither violent nor disproportionate. It’s consistently purposeful, focused, and contained. There is nothing scary about the real Mia’s anger, unless you’re threatened by the very idea she might have something valid to be angry about.

There is evidence of tension in the Winters’ marriage from before Miranda’s arrival, but it takes a very different form – most evident in the flashback scene where Ethan receives the call from Rose’s doctor. Far from Miranda’s brusque, dismissive copy of her, the real Mia is anxious and depressed, scared of what Rose’s results might reveal. Here, Ethan’s the one brushing her concerns aside (“We talked about this […] Rose is fine!”) He recognises there seems to be something Mia’s not telling him, says they should talk about it, but then immediately brushes the conversation off when he gets a call from work, while Mia storms out of the room.

You can certainly read Mia as a hypocrite here, getting angry at Ethan for not knowing things she’s deliberately kept from him. But it’s Ethan who decides a call from work is more important than a conversation with his wife – someone who is obviously distressed, canonically still on a regime of drugs after the traumatic events of RE7, very likely suffering PTSD along with Ethan, and maybe even some form of postpartum depression. We don’t know anything about Ethan’s work, so there’s no point in speculating about how much he ‘needs’ to take that call. Mia’s no clear villain here – quite the opposite.

Personally, I tend towards taking this scene as evidence that Mia has tried to talk to Ethan about what really happened to him, but hasn’t managed to get him to face the truth. For all that Ethan supposedly wants to talk about the past, it’s a defining plot point that he’s badly in denial himself.

Or they could both be at some fault here: Ethan unwilling to face the truth, while Mia is reluctant to force him to face something she knows will hurt him and bring him distress. Even when Mia says outright that she ‘tried to keep this a secret, but…’ to Chris at the end of the game, the implication is as much that she’s tried to keep it a secret from people like Chris, who might decide Ethan is dangerous. She’s lied to protect him before, and if she’s still lying to him about her past with the Connections, then the fact that knowing the truth will hurt Ethan is obviously among her reasons. Protecting Ethan has always been among Mia’s top priorities ‒ even at her own expense.

The only other real hints we get about Mia’s inner life come from the glimpses of her we get in Donna’s domain. But I’m hesitant to read too much into these, given how unclear it is how much is just a manifestation of Ethan’s own anxieties. If anything, the ‘Mia’ in these scenes almost seems to have some far worse secret than simply having not told Ethan something he really ought to have put together on his own, and I’d kind of love to see that explored too – at least as long as that goes somewhere more interesting than round umpteen of ‘and that’s why Mia sucks’.

But my point here isn’t that you have to read any of these scenes the same way I do. I do think it’s important to recognise that nothing written for a game like RE is truly character-driven; scenes exist to serve the plot far more than to reflect consistent character motivations or hold up to fridge logic (which, let’s face it, is the real reason for most of Chris’ horrific behaviour in this game, let alone anyone else’s). The result is rarely super consistent, and leaves ample space for multiple interpretations of anyone’s motivations. Regardless, the idea there’s any hard evidence that Ethan and Mia’s relationship is dysfunctional, or that whatever’s wrong is Mia’s fault alone, is going to be incredibly hard to justify.

Any assertion that Ethan and Mia are somehow on the verge of divorce also needs to be weighed against the masses of evidence of how much they love each other – the number of times Mia has said she loves Ethan, up to and including (yes, I’m bringing this up again) how ready she is to die for him in RE7. Her speech to Chris at the end of RE8 states explicitly that being together with Ethan and Rose is the only thing that matters to her. “Mia, I’m sorry, I love you,” are some of the last words Ethan ever speaks – and I can’t help but read into how the moment he finally pushes Rose into Chris’ arms so they can get away with him weighing them down is right after he learns that Mia is alive, and thus implicitly that Rose won’t be alone if Ethan doesn’t make it. And good god does that scene break my heart every time.

It’s worth recognising that the fact Ethan and Mia love each other doesn’t inherently mean their relationship is healthy, or that you have to love them together as much as I do. Like I said up top, you don’t have to like Mia, and you don’t have to justify not liking her if you don’t. I would genuinely like to see fics where Mia and Ethan’s supposedly-necessary break up feels in character. Where Ethan loves her but just can’t deal with the resentment and the fallout over all the lies she told him, where he's been clinging to his 'happy ending' with Mia after surviving the Bakers so hard he can't face the fact things just aren't working, or where he’s having to face that their relationship only ever really worked because she was away so much. It will break my heart, but fiction is allowed to do that.

But god, it would be nice if people could just take the bashing below an eleven around this place. The number of times I’ve had to sigh and back-button out of reading something, because yet another author has decided to project their own hatred for Mia onto the husband who’s still reeling from watching her being violently murdered in front of him… it gets fucking old, y’know?

I would really like to think that in the year of our lord 2024, fandom would be a bit past this thing where they bash the canonical female love interest in the name of shipping the hero with another dude. People will bend over backwards to try and cast Heisenberg and Chris as guys who really care about consent and worry about Ethan getting hurt, because heaven forbid anyone be caught shipping something slightly problematic. And yet misogyny still somehow gets a pass.

You do not have to love Mia. You don’t even have to like her. But ye gods, the hate she gets is baseless and absurd.

Hasn't this poor woman suffered enough?

(And on that note, I promise I am finally done soapboxing in defence of Mia Winters, thank you for bearing with me for this long.)

[anzulvr]

୨୧ On Purpose Karma x (fem) reader || Chapter: 08 ୨୧

 PREV || 08 Klepto || NEXT

Last year, the strangest sequence of events altered [Name’s] life. It was a day like any other, beginning with countless possibilities. An inevitable build-up to the perfect moment, fate, which could have led to anything, led to him.

"Akio! It's good to see you, I'm on an assignment. Could you do me a favor and answer some questions?" [Name] greeted him with a smile.

Akio scoffed in reply he looked the [h/c]-haired girl up and down. "Spare me the trouble and tell me who reported me. My dad invests a ton of money into this school... so this conversation won't get you anywhere."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Don't act clueless, it's annoying just cut to it." Akio yanked [Name’s] bag off her shoulder. "Unless you tell me who sent you, I won't be giving this back."

[Name] felt so out of the loop. Akio hadn't been apprehensive towards her before. "Gakushuu sent me. I only need to collect a student survey." He quickly backtracked in an attempt to cover up his self-incriminating tone "Of course he did... forget this, I don't need Asano getting mad at me for bothering his girlfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend and you don't have to be so hostile towards me, if you don't want to participate it's alright."

"Not your boyfriend?" Akio laughed as if it were the most ridiculous statement he'd heard come out of anyone's mouth. He blocked out anything else she'd said and honed in on that.

"The entire school knows the real reason you're in council."

She felt her heart sink. "Are you trying to insinuate something?"

[Name] shouldn't care, it's only a rumor. Still, it was hard not to when a good amount of the student body targeted her on how she didn't deserve her position. No one else in the Big Six had to take the backlash she did. It wasn't fair. Why did people assume the worst?

This was the first time someone had the guts to say it directly to her. She worked hard for her spot but her success was attributed to some guy going and "handing" it to her.

Just as she was about to wack Akio with the clipboard in her hand, Akio held his breath. A tall red-haired guy wearing a dress-code-violating uniform and a creepy smile was standing right behind him.

[Name] stared at the stranger's face a little longer, oh- that's the guy Asano constantly complains about!

He grabbed Akio's shoulder in an overly friendly manner. "Did you think you'd get away from me?" Karma's voice dripped with confidence, he was confrontational and clearly didn't run away from a fight. A weird guy, his tone was friendly; the same way you'd talk to an old friend. It was comforting in an uncomfortable way, his words didn't match his attitude at all.

The life drained from Akio's face, he went pale and rigid.

"I'm having trouble deciding what to do. I could beat your face in before I take the wallet back, or you can give me everything you have on you, clothes and all. You can keep the underwear."

"You can have it back! I swear I didn't take money out of it!"

"You're funny, I don't just want it back. Not after you made me run around the block ."

Akio dropped everything he had on the floor, Nagisas wallet, [Names] bag, his pants... Karma laughed at the sight of Akio running off like his life depended on it.

It was a cute laugh, a little maniacal considering the circumstances, but cute.

"This is like hitting the lottery... Nagisa had 10 bucks in that old thing- That blockhead carries hundreds!" He was excitedly talking to himself like a child opening an early Christmas gift.

"Karma! There you are! I finally caught up. Huh? Where'd Akio go? God, please don't tell me you actually killed him..."

Nagisa was holding his stomach for support, completely out of breath and a few minutes late. He must've gotten lost while Karma was chasing Akio.

"Even better, check this out!"

He tossed both wallets to Nagisa, Then Karma opened up [Names] bag and started rummaging through it.

[Name] spoke up softly, even though the belongings were hers she felt pretty out of place after watching the whole ordeal go down. She wasn't keen on being next.

"Hi um, that's my stuff."

Karma gave her a suspicious glance out of the corner of his eyes. "Are you trying to rip my steal?"

She shook her head no in rapid motion.

Nagisa gave a panicked expression, "Karma don't be rude! She's in our class, she always brings that bag."

Karma furrowed his eyebrows in response, "Really? I never noticed ya."

He tossed the bag back into [Names] arms, "Heads up." She dropped her clipboard when meaning to catch her bag.

"What's that stack of papers for?" Nagisa asked while picking the board back up.

"It's just a survey I'm having people fill in for the school."

Karma tapped his open palm with his balled-up fist, a lightbulb moment, "Now I remember you! You're the square's girlfriend!" A little late, but at least he had some sort of recollection of [Names] existence.

[Name] was visibly taken aback, he did not just say that.

"Seriously where did that rumor come from? Asano would put a bullet in his head before going out with me."

Nagisa gave an awkward chuckle, clearly, he was only being polite. "Sorry about Karma, we can answer the survey if you still need people."

"You'd do that for me? Thank you! I have like fifty more to collect."

"Anytime, it's no problem!"

It was a really sweet gesture until the mood got spoiled by the delinquent behind him who didn't share the same enthusiasm.

"Do I have to? There are plenty of other people to choose from."

While Nagisa started going through and checking boxes [Name] couldn't help but focus on Karma. In contrast to his perfect hair and face his uniform was completely wrong. He could get into trouble if a teacher notices then it'll become a bigger problem than it has to be.

[Name] took a step closer and began to fix his outfit the best she could. She straightened up his blazer and buttoned up his collared shirt.

He wasn't sure what to do with himself as she lectured him about cleaning up his look. He focused on her hands. "Your shirt's unbuttoned, the blazers on wrong and I have an extra tie in my locker so you can have mine if you want."

He smiled and gave her a weird look, "No thanks I'm not a big fan, ties are suffocating."

He'd gotten told off millions of times by the councilors and teachers over dress code but this was the first time a girl his age nagged him about it. What was her deal? "Sorry if I sound pushy, I'm only looking out for you."

Looking out for him, that's a first.

"Nah it's okay, your shoes are untied by the way."

She looked down to check completely forgetting they didn't have laces. "Hm? But they aren't."

He laughed again, this time not like a sadistic weirdo. "Made you look! Are you always that gullible?"

Back then, [Name] and Karma didn't know they'd eventually become the most important people to one another.

He's always there when she needs it, that's what sets him apart from anyone else. [Name] thinks this makes her over-reliant, and needy. She hopes he won't grow sick of her. In that way they're the perfect pair, behind his poker-faced facade Karma is worrying about the same thing, hopefully, she never gets sick of him.

[anli-rambles]

Idk if the writers intended it or not but the amount of cognitive dissonance between what Haytham says and what he does is so telling of the kind of person he was raised to be. Birch succeeded in making him talk like a Templar, but his actions contradict pretty much everything Haytham claims to stand for. It's as if the brainwashing ran deep enough to make Haytham lack self-awareness but not enough to completely destroy what Edward was able to teach him before he died. Connor points it out verbatim right before they meet up with Washington too. "You've talked a great deal but you've shown me nothing."

Haytham says he wants order but he's just about as chaotic as his father was when he was younger. He says Connor's talks of "freedom" and "free will" are nonsense but literally every time we see him aside from the opening sequences, he's going off on his own, doing God-knows-what without telling any of the other Templars, he drops everything on the spot to go camping with his girlfriend, hell he even murdered a Templar Grandmaster for personal revenge (when revenge has been the driving force between many of the protagonists we've had so far like Ezio, Connor, Arno, Bayek, heck even Kassandra to some degree, while the Templars claim to be above this kind of stuff). He went against Lee's plans to have Connor executed because he felt like it. (The line in his journal is literally "I won't let my son die today.") He says he wants purpose and direction and yet never has a plan for whatever he's doing. He's exactly like Edward on that front, essentially bullshitting his way through everything and hoping it all works out (and it often doesn't). That man has never had purpose or direction in his entire life, and the moment someone tries to tell him what to do, he actively chooses to do the opposite because he doesn't follow orders (and if he does, it's on his own terms).

When Haytham realized he didn't hold the key to the Precursor site, he chose to drop it altogether, because he knew too many would have to die for the cause and it wasn't worth it. Do you mean to tell me people like Vidic, the Borgias, Germain, heck even Torres (who's by far the most reasonable Grandmaster we've encountered in the series besides François de la Serre, maybe) went to impossible lengths to get to the Observatory — do you think any of these men would've just... stopped ? Because more people would have to die ? (The answer is no. William Johnson was willing to commit mass murder just to buy the land the site was on — which by the way Haytham had no idea about (the mass murder part, I mean) until after the fact and he was very angry about it.)

Which is also pretty telling about how involved he is in all of this. He didn't know about what Johnson was planning because he couldn't even be bothered to hold yearly meetings for like 15 years.

In his journal, you can see how he progressively starts to despise every Templar he's working with. He endorses Lee out loud but his thoughts about the guy are that he's "too British to be a good representative for the American people" and he's actually pretty pessimistic about his chances to supplant Washington. He doesn't even believe in what he says about Lee, like, ever (which is why I say it really looks like he's endorsing Lee as an act of sabotage because it really feels like it sometimes.) His Templar kill count is also higher than Connor's — Juan Vedomir, the unnamed mercenary with a West Country accent, Edward Braddock, John Harrison, Reginald Birch, Benjamin Church and Nicholas Biddle (although the game never showed it, the fact that Church and Biddle died only days apart while both in the Caribbean means that Haytham was with Connor on the Aquila when he killed Biddle, so he's at least complicit in his murder.)

Haytham says he's a man with Templar ideals and an Assassin background but to me it feels like the opposite. He's a man with a Templar background and Assassin ideals, but the grooming started so young that even killing Birch couldn't undo the damage that man had done. I think Haytham realized that by the end and that's why he let Connor kill him.

[jezebelgoldstone]

cooking/baking tips

if you're making a recipe that's american/west european/anything that someone from the usa or west europe would think of as "normal," double the spices other than vanilla and salt. it doesn't matter what the recipe is for. cooking baking sweet savory whatever. double them.

get out all the ingredients before you start

keep the ingredients you haven't used yet in one spot, and move them to a different spot or put them away once they've been used

if you're making a lot of things at once or in sequence (eg making a bunch of different kinds of cookies) pay attention to the required oven temp. my preference is to order them from highest temp to lowest; that way the oven heats alllllll the way up while i'm mixing the first batch, and after that i only have to turn the heat down, so there's almost no wait time.

cleaning up as you go really does save time

if you're using stick butter and the recipe says "softened" and you have a microwave, then put the stick of butter in the microwave open-side-down for five seconds, flip it open-side-up, and heat for five more seconds.

if you're making something american/west european other than vanilla and salt double the spices

if you're making something liquid or semi-liquid that can burn easily and needs to be kept at a steady temperature, use a skillet, not a pot. it will heat MUCH more evenly (not such a big difference between top and bottom) and it's a lot easier to see more of it at once.

salt is what lets you taste other things. lifechanging when i found that out. this is why even recipes for things that don't taste salty at all still generally call for salt. salt makes other flavors taste more. something's bland? not enough salt. you're making up a recipe? include a pinch of salt.

speaking of salt: often, if you want something to taste more buttery, you don't need more butter; what you need is more salt.

a "rolling boil" is when there's no time lag between one bubble and the next (i'm not making this up. i just learned this. look it up.)

mmm that's all i can think of for now but i'm sure i'll remember more next time i cook something

[wh1sp3rr]

straddling plug!kirishima whilst he rolls!

masterlist

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

Your legs, almost unclad in the immodest red loungewear shorts you had on that'd tightly hug your thighs, hang on either side of Eijirou's light-wash grey Adidas joggers as your poised feet, nails sheer in a painted milky white, barely scrape against the cropped, grey carpet hairs of the floor.

Your form presses deep into his as you lean over his thick, similarly half-unclad, shoulder, baby pink frenchies accessorise your fingers that clasp your phone as you absentmindedly scroll through whatever social media you landed on, other hand stroking up and down, equally as absentmindedly, the warm muscled tan of Eijirou's left arm.

With your fronts basically glued together, his taut arms seatbelt over the dip of your back, hands grinding, rolling, packing, then finally, lighting. You hear him suck his teeth as he deeply inhales the Indica strain, blowing straight forward into the dark campus view the swung-open window reveals.

"Babe." He calls out.

"Mmm?" You hum, eyes still honed in on the brain-dulling media in front of you, some controversy about the latest scandal with a popular social-media influencer currently playing.

"Will you turn that shit off? I'm tryna talk to you," he says a little irritated.

"Then talk." You respond nonchalantly, video still playing.

"Yeah, but I'm tryna seeee youu, babyyy." He whines, tiny pout coupled with squinted eyes and up-turned brows. You giggle at the frankness of his sentiment, how he makes no effort to try to appear cool or unfazed to you, just pure, genuine honesty and vulnerability. You lean back, push against his wedge-locked arms as they stay that way, help you balance a bit, and face him, quickly stealing the hanging blunt from his lips for a deep drag.

"Better?" You smile. He takes one of your hands and kisses it, lets it rest by the prickly, sprouting stubble of his jaw before puzzle-piecing his arms together as they were before.

"Much," he replies: satisfied -- lovesick like he's a puppy and you’ve just nuzzled his sweet spot behind his ear.

A small, hardly noticeable silence passes as you puff-puff-pass between the two of you, new song playing on the Spotify playlist: Skyline To by Frank Ocean.

"Y/n?" The raspy voice calls out.

"Yes..?" You drawl, slightly giddy from the drug already, big smile on both your faces.

"You’re probably the only girl whose ever got me feelin' like this. Think I'm actually whipped." He says, definitely high.

You snicker, "Dude, are you already fucking high?"

He laughs heartily, the way you love, and lugs his head down as he does so, "Nah, baby. I'm like Snoop. Tolerance is sky-fuckin'-high." He motions with his flat hand, lengthy arm stretching way above you despite you straddling him, legs swinging gleefully as you huff out an amused breath through your nose, knowing this was a falsehood.

He separates his arms, unwelds them from one another, and brings his big, heavy hands to the sides of your waist, dragging up and down warmly, like he's happy either way to stay comfortable in this position or to pinch and play with your tits.

You watch him as he feels you and the two of you don't make a sound. Indulge in this restful silence aside from the sequenced instrumental: Country by Porches from the new Priscilla film you watched together.

You gasp as you stay staring at your redhead boyfriend, "I love this song," you hushedly say.

"I know." He hushes back, your combined whispers like little children's, "I remember," he punctuates.

There's a warm bubble in your throat as you realise how perfect this man is in front of you, how he dotes on you in a way that is comparable to none besides the Sun and the Moon, always there for each other, at every turn, at every time.

You bring the blunt to his smiling lips and he tokes but doesn't inhale, his wanton love breaking through his threshold of what he can half-assedly call composure, and he pulls you in quickly, heart pulsating and heavy with the ineffable amounts of love he has for you, "Come here, baby." His voice is emphatic but desperate, like his hold on your neck that smoothly drags over to cup and thumb at the plumpness of your cheek.

He breathes out into that small triangle slot your pretty lips open up for him; milky shotgun and you're sure to swallow up, in your hazy, stoned way, every bit he gives you, immediately welding your lips together as they merge and detach, merge and detach so good and wetly, the burning blunt between your forgetting fingers hanging lowly behind Eijirou.

The buzzy song repeats and your tongues slip and slide against each other, his little grunts, your precious whines as this drawing of connection pulses throughout your bodies. Hands getting needy, bodies pressing impossibly closer together, limbs dedicated and purposeful in the way they move: your lazy, blunt-holding hand drawing in, tracing with your thumb the nothing-in-particular part of Eijirou's face.

He tilts his face and grabs ahold of your forearm gently, the burning thing opposite the arm he has grabbed tickling the skin of his cheek. His low, repeating voice begs, "Ash it, baby. Ash it." And you do, silly little Simpsons ashtray on the desk that's just a few centimetres behind you, arms immediately wrapping round Ei's neck, freed from the shackles of the obstructing thing that was the unlocking key for this lustful, intensely intimate moment.

His closed eyes remain shut as his lips peck open-mouthed kisses into your arm up up up! Before reaching under your thighs and lifting you up, trudging you to bed.

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