#or if they interpret it as some weird thing

[niningtori]

the way we were before | oneshot

pairing: choi beomgyu x you

summary: you've been in love with beomgyu for as long as you've known him. deep down, you've always thought that he loved you, too; so when he tells you that he's engaged to another woman, you decide to break it all off after a nasty fight in which he shows you just how little you mean to him. a life-ending accident seems to put your feelings to rest, for good. just when you think it's all over, however, you awaken to a time before everything fell apart; and you're determined not to repeat the same mistakes. it's just that beomgyu can't seem to let you go.

genre: ANGST (literally so much angst it's not even funny), romance, second chancelau, rebirthlau, she falls first but he falls harder, possessive!beomgyu

warnings: mcd (and rebirth), somewhat graphic depictions of death/a corpse, suicidal thoughts, you can interpret a scene at the end as somewhat suggestive but not really

word count: 12.7k

notes: this work contains a lot of angst... and that's coming from ME. this might be too sad to the point of being corny but luckily i was born on the cob. don't be mean to me tho i'm going thru it rn. feedback also means the world 2 me <3

some things are a matter of course. for example, when you were initially paired with beomgyu for a project in your senior year of college, it was a matter of course to fall in love with him. supporting him morally and emotionally while he struggled throughout the rest of the year and well into his adult career? well, that was a matter of course, too. being with him every day, spending every spare second you had with the intention to make him happy, and giving up any concept of self-preservation in exchange for even a morsel of his affection? the answer doesn’t even need to be said. through it all, you’ve suspected that all of the intimacy that you’ve nurtured will inevitably end up with you two being together, of course. 

you haven’t done any of it for the outcome. truly, you haven't. you make him happy simply because it makes you happy just to see him shine. he’s always been such a bright, sunny boy, and it’s always been enough just to be the one who helps maintain his true personality. it absolutely kills you to see him hurting, so it isn’t unusual to drop everything, be it work or social events, just to give him advice, give him comfort, or even just give him company. while he certainly doesn't show his affection towards you as profusely as you do to him, you know he cares about you. you can see it in the way he notices the little things about you, and in the way he listens to you with full attentiveness, even when you have nothing particularly interesting to tell him. when everyone talks over you, he tells you that he wants to hear what you have to say. and that’s enough.  

with all of this in mind, you jump at his invitation to hang out at his apartment. he’s been a little distracted lately, cancelling plans together for reasons unknown. it’s been odd, to be sure, but you know he’ll tell you whatever’s been bothering him soon enough. he always does. you greet him with takeout from his favorite restaurant in tow as a surprise, and he takes it with that smile you love so damn much. he looks a little nervous, but happy, mostly, and you don’t have to wait for very long before he clears his throat and announces that he has something important to tell you.

you try not to get your hopes up, but who can blame you for feeling a hint of anticipation? maybe he’ll finally confess his feelings to you. maybe that’s why he’s been a little weird. naturally, since your mind is racing so much with romantic hypotheticals, of course it comes as a shock to you that he simply says, “i’m getting married.”

beomgyu, notorious for never even having the time nor interest to date around, is not only dating, but engaged. your jaw drops when he tells you that it all happened so quickly, he doesn’t even know how it unfolded. all he knows is that once he met her, a whirlwind romance swept him up, and just a few months have been more than enough for him to know that she’s the one. in fact, as he so fondly declares, he knew it from the very first moment he saw her at the dinner between the company you two work for and her own. the one where you were his “date”. you knew that it wasn’t a real proclamation of love or affection for him to ask you to accompany him, but you can’t say that you weren’t beaming with pride and validation at you being his natural choice. when you arrived at the dinner, you remember some of your coworkers jokingly whispering to you to just make it official already. you spent the night mostly by his side, looking up at him in admiration and love. as it turns out, the time you spent fawning over him was equally spent with him falling in love at first sight with another woman. you weren’t even apart for very long, but apparently he met her when you two broke apart to mingle. 

it’s a kick in the chest, to put it bluntly. you feel the wind being knocked out of your lungs, and you’re struggling to breathe. the first time you caught a glimpse of him, you knew that any attempts to stop yourself from falling in love with him were hopeless. his smile, his charm, his playfulness immediately had you enraptured. you’ve always, always known that he didn't have a similar experience with you, but you just assumed that he simply isn’t the type to be caught up in such childish romanticism. you've always loved him outwardly and persistently, and you've shown him that in every single way you possibly know how. you dared to hope that maybe he was just the type to quietly reciprocate. obviously, with how emphatically he’s professing his love for another woman, you were very, very wrong.

“what's the matter? aren't you happy for me?” you struggle to answer, but he continues as if he doesn’t notice. “you know, i was thinking you could be, like, my best man. i've seen people do it these days—you'd pretty much be my best woman. i really want you to do it. there's no one else i can think of to—well, actually, there's soobin, but you’re my—”

“beomgyu,” you sharply interrupt, wetness pooling in your waterlines. beomgyu may be a little emotionally slow, but he’s not stupid. you know he knows that you've had feelings for him since forever ago. while it hurts, the fact of them being unrequited isn't what really gets you; it’s the fact that he doesn’t have the decency to just tell the truth. he took advantage of your love for him, always calling for you when he needed you, without ever really doing the same for you. “what… what about us?” 

“what about us? you’re my best friend, and i want you to be part of my wedding,” he says smoothly, but you level him with a watery stare. as if realization finally dawns on him, he replies in a way you sincerely did not anticipate.

“c’mon, you know i don’t see you like that,” he chuckles with a wave of his hand, and you really would’ve rathered him say literally anything else. you’d prefer it if he had just punched you in the stomach, actually, because that would feel considerably better than this… this humiliation. you’re silent for a moment before you feel the tears you’ve been struggling to keep in cascade down your face. to his credit, he has the decency to look uncomfortable, and his playful smile drops. before he can reply, however, you speak again.

“you knew how i felt about you this whole fucking time, you were just too much of a coward to be honest with me,“ you declare. “if… if you had just told me, i would’ve understood. i-i would've—you didn't have to do it this way.”

“listen, i’m sorry that you’re hurt, but i really didn’t mean—” 

“are you really sorry that i’m hurt, or are you sorry that i showed you i’m hurt?” you cut in. “beomgyu, you don’t care about how i feel, just as long as you don’t have to be the one to deal with it.” 

“i’m—you're being unfair. i didn't want to hurt your feelings, i just wanted us to stay friends. what's so bad about that? don't you want that?” he seems genuinely puzzled, as if he can't wrap his head around why you'd ever be indignant at the fact that he stayed friends with you mainly for his own comfort.

“jesus christ, beomgyu! a real friend would never do this. you kept me around so i’d keep helping you with work, with life, with what the fuck ever. why can't you just be honest, after all this time? just don’t lie,” you spit.

“i'm not lying! you've helped me a lot, and i'm grateful for that, but you can't expect me to just owe you my feelings,” he snaps.

“that's not what this is about, and you know it,” you tremblingly reply, dignity cut right to the bone.

“seriously? that's exactly what this is about. you're the altruistic angel who does nothing wrong, and i'm just a fucking scumbag who takes advantage of you, right? well, i'm sorry, but it's not my fault that you're acting so goddamn crazy over something so stupid.” your eyes burn with an intensity so great, it feels like they're being seared out of your skull. in this moment, you realize that he will never, ever respect you enough to consider you worthy of being leveled with. he doesn't think you're even worth the time. you're his silly, lovesick best friend who's absolutely delusional to the point of being laughable for suggesting that he actually take you seriously, for once. and that revelation breaks you like nothing else.

you won’t do this anymore. you couldn’t even if you wanted to, and you don’t. 

“i never want to see you again,” you sob, and while it may seem juvenile to say, you truly mean it. before you can hear beomgyu reply, you dash out of the building and to your car. 

everything is a blur when you peel out of the parking lot and onto the road. your eyes are pouring out thick, hot tears, and you try your best to swipe them away as soon as they come, but it’s difficult when they’re seemingly endless. you don’t even attempt to hold in your sobs—they’re far too deep and frequent for that. if someone were to glance at you through their window, they’d think you were absolutely insane. and maybe you are, you don’t know. maybe you’re insane for thinking that things could’ve ever been any different. maybe you were just imagining everything that seemed like confirmation that he loved you back. maybe it was all a delusion because you wanted it so fucking badly. and maybe that’s your fault.

but did he really have to crush you like this? he knew you were in in love with him. he knew you were waiting for him. he knew what he meant to you. why couldn’t he have just been honest instead of stringing you along? to ask for him to return your feelings would’ve been too much, you've always understood that to be the case; but even to the bitter end, he’ll call you crazy before he tells you the truth. 

you try to keep yourself focused, but everything’s a blur with your eyes bleary with a film of tears. you have half a mind to just pull over and have a meltdown on the side of the road, but before you can do that, you hear your phone ringing. you pick it up in a frenzy, silently hoping that it’s beomgyu with an apology, but the number is unknown. you don’t even have time to feel disappointed before you look up and see that you’re barrelling past a red light. in a panic, you realize that you’re about to crash headfirst into another car. you swerve your steering wheel as hard as you can, seemingly avoiding danger, but the sight of a tree coming closer and closer into your vision paralyzes you with fear. you try to brake, but you’re going too quickly for it to be of any use. 

the collision is bone-shattering in the literal sense. you’d think you’d feel adrenaline alone in such a situation, but you can feel pain bursting out of every cell of your body as you still after being thrown back and forth in your seat. every organ, every bone, feels like it’s just been crushed, and not for the first time today, you’re struggling to breathe. 

as you slip out of consciousness, one immovable thought resounds in your head: i wish i'd never met him.

-

the sound of your alarm ringing pulls you out of the darkness. your eyes shoot open and you sit straight up in pure shock. while you pant—just trying to catch your breath—you grab your chest, clutching at your shirt as you feel your heart drumming erratically. did you survive? you scramble out of your bed and look in the mirror. there’s nothing on your face. no fresh wounds, bruises, no scars from what just happened. that can’t be right. you know you were torn up from the collision, and there’s no earthly way you came out of it unscathed. was it a dream? it can’t be; you can still feel the phantom of pain on every inch of you, even when there’s no indication of any material harm. you remember every second you spent before and after wrapping yourself around that tree. does that mean you’re dead? are you in the afterlife? 

that doesn’t seem right, either. you don’t know much about what the afterlife is supposed to be like, if there’s even one at all, but this feels too real and familiar. you reach for your phone, with its alarm still blaring, and as you hit snooze, you notice the date. it’s just a few months before… before everything happened. did you go back in time? is that even possible? you try to reconcile yourself with that fact for a long, long time. so long, in fact, that you don't even realize you're supposed to be heading to work until it's five minutes after you're supposed to be there. 

as if on cue, your phone rings with your boss’ contact displayed on the screen.

“hello,” he says as casually as anyone ever can. this just solidifies the idea that your accident must never have happened, because if it had, he certainly wouldn’t be greeting you as if it’s just another day. 

“h-hey,” you attempt to reply, and your voice is so choked and thick with emotion, he can hear how badly you’re struggling to speak at all. 

“is everything alright?” he asks, concern laced in his tone. that’s enough to make you break, and before you can stop it, you’re outright sobbing into the phone. 

“i’m—i just—i don’t think i can come in today.” you fumble for an excuse, but it’s difficult to think straight as you feel your mind breaking down. “i, um, i—” 

“hey, it’s okay. you can take the day off, alright? don’t worry about anything, just focus on feeling better.” his words, so comforting in nature, do nothing but make you cry even harder. it feels nice to be cared for like this. if you had the coherence to think so, you’d wonder how baffled he must be at your behavior. luckily, you’re far too gone to care. you think you end up stammering out something similar to a thank you, but you’re not quite sure. either way, the call ends, and you collapse onto your bed. you curl yourself up and tuck your knees to your chest as you grip yourself as tightly as you can. this is real. you’ve gone back. thank god, you’ve gone back. 

you cry and cry until no more tears will come out, and while you try to keep yourself awake as the hours pass by, the relief you feel coalesces with the enticing nature of your soft bed, so you can't help but drift off. it’s different from the way you drifted off mere hours ago. it’s a lot warmer and kinder, and you're so, so fucking tired, you don’t even want to fight it anymore. 

a knock on your door wakes you from your sleep. it’s a good thing, too, because you were having a nightmare. rejection, devastation, primal fear, mind-numbing pain, then total darkness repeated incessantly in your head for hours on end. you swipe away your tears, but they continue to flow as you practically drag yourself to your door. you’re so disoriented, you don’t even think to check to see who it is before opening it. what a mistake that turns out to be.

“hey! whoa—are you okay?” he asks, and who else could it be besides beomgyu? your heart pounds in your chest, and even more tears stream down your face as you let out a sob. his mouth contorts into a frown. his face, previously so endearing to you, makes you feel absolutely repulsed. you lost everything for the figure standing before you, and he has the nerve to ask you if you’re okay. a fire is ignited in your stomach, and you feel yourself on the precipice of carnal rage. while you’re trying to suppress that feeling, he speaks again. 

“i heard you called in, so i thought i’d check on you. do you have a fever?” he questions, reaching out his hand to check your forehead for abnormal warmth. without even thinking about it, you smack his hand away.

“don’t touch me,” you all but growl, but beomgyu is undeterred. 

“what’s the matter? i don’t care if you get me sick; i could use the time off,” he teases with a grin, but your face remains twisted up in pure anger. 

“get out,” you mumble between clenched teeth.

“what?” he asks, and it's unclear if that's because he's confused, or because he simply didn't hear you. either way, you don't care.

“get out,” you repeat, louder this time, but not lacking any of the previous anger. your erratic behavior is enough to finally irritate beomgyu. 

“fine, whatever. forget i even bothered,” he scoffs as he stalks out of the door. you slam it behind him before falling to the floor. this is your chance. you came back too late to avoid ever meeting him again, but it’s still good enough for you. from now on, you two will live completely separate lives spent being nothing to each other. owing nothing to each other. again, you find yourself sobbing in relief. 

-

when you return to work the next day, the first thing you do is head to your boss’ office. he looks relieved to see you for a moment before he notices the envelope in your hand. with the way his smile drops, you know he immediately knows what it is. 

“what’s that?” he asks, though the tension in the air is more than enough confirmation that he has no doubts about what the letter reads.

“my resignation,” you tell him. 

“may i ask what this is about?” he probes. no, he can’t, because even if you told him, he’d never believe you.  

“i just don’t think this position is right for me,” you deadpan, and the look on his face shows that he doesn’t really buy it.

“you’ve worked so hard for so long, and you want to give up now?” he has a point. your company is on the brink of a major deal with another company, which will result in a financial breakthrough like none other, if successful. as fate would have it, said company is the one in which beomgyu’s future wife works, and the dinner where the two of them met is the celebratory party for such success. you’d laugh at the circumstances if you could. “whatever the issue is, we can work it out. just don’t leave before we do this. we need you, and even if you want to leave after we close the deal, you’ll still be rewarded for everything you’ve done. don’t you want to see that happen?” you do. you really, really do. you’ve given so much of yourself for this opportunity, and you really want to see it work out. you guess, in a way, you already have seen it; but if you leave now, that’ll never happen. this particular project needs you to get off of its feet.

but can you really stand to see beomgyu for a second longer? have his mere presence fuck with your head? is it even worth it? you’re about to declare that it most certainly is not, but you stop yourself. the money will be good for you to start a new life. maybe you’ll move buildings, maybe even to a new city, maybe across the country, who knows? you’ll be more than comfortable with this potential payout, and then you can start a new life somewhere where you know nobody, and nobody knows you. 

“i want a new partner, at least,” you counter, and his face morphs into a grimace. he’s undoubtedly confused at your sudden aversion towards beomgyu, but he doesn't mention it to you. 

“that’ll be difficult. i need you both for this to work.” you’re about to flatout deny him, but he continues. “if you can just make it through this, i promise that you can go wherever you want to go, and i’ll even give you a bonus for your trouble. deal?” you purse your lips as you mull it over. if you can suffer through being partners with beomgyu, your move will be considerably easier. still, you’re undecided before you have an epiphany: in just a few months, beomgyu will meet his future wife and fall head over heels in love with her. all you have to do is ignore him until then, and he’ll inevitably leave you alone once he meets her. so what if beomgyu’s here? you don’t want to care about him anymore. and once everything’s settled, you’ll pack your life away and start somewhere without the bad memories. 

“okay,” you reply, and his face breaks out into a grin. 

-

beomgyu is very visibly ruffled today, which you would immediately notice if you just spared him a glance, but you do no such thing. your lack of attention towards him serves to only rile him up even further. he wants to be stubborn—act out until you apologize to him, but once he realizes you have no intention of doing so, he finally relents and approaches you.

“hey,” he says coolly, still a little annoyed, but prepared to forgive you. you look up at him blankly, and he’s unsettled by just how empty your eyes look, so he nervously asks you, “are you… are you feeling better?” you look at him as if he just spouted the most asinine question of all time, and for the first time ever, he feels small under your gaze. he shifts awkwardly on his feet before you break the silence. 

“i’m fine,” you tell him. he waits for you to ask him how he is, but the words never come. in fact, you turn away and bury your nose in your work as if he’s not standing there, waiting dumbly for you to respond as you usually would. well, whatever. you’ll have to talk to him, eventually. especially since you two are working on such a big project. 

you don’t really talk to him, though, aside from what’s absolutely necessary. for most of the day, you silently slide papers over to him without even deigning to look at him while you do it. when you do have to speak to him, your words are cold and detached, as if even speaking to him is a chore. it’s like you’re looking past him, almost. like you don’t even really see him, and he’s never felt as unsettled by a gaze in his life. 

at lunch, you quietly remain at your desk instead of joining beomgyu like you usually would, and you can't quite bring yourself to eat. you just feel sick by this entire situation, and while you know you need food to survive, you’re sure you’ll vomit if you try to eat anything. 

beomgyu, on his part, leaves you alone, though he desperately wants to try to get you to eat with him. he won’t admit it, but he’s actually afraid that you’ll reject him again. he doesn't know why, but the thought of you doing so slashes at his heart. this is a mystery to him. he shouldn’t really care if you reject him or not, since he’s been quietly rejecting you for years, but he can’t help it. still, as he watches you space out at your desk, he tries to will himself to bear the brunt of a possible denial before a coworker he recognizes approaches you.

you don’t even notice mingi walking up to you, so you jump in surprise when he greets you. you’re pretty familiar with him, but you’re not particularly close, so you’re a bit surprised by his arrival. 

“can i sit with you?” he asks, grinning as he asks it. you nod in response, and he grins even wider before he pulls up a chair and seats himself in front of you.

“are you going to eat?” he questions, and you shake your head.

“not hungry,” you reply. he frowns.

“you still need to eat. you need energy, especially since you’re working so hard.” you’re actually a little sheepish because of his words. so he’s noticed how hard you’ve been working? it feels nice to be appreciated. is he worried about you? 

“i’ll eat later,” you lie. he seems a bit reluctant, but he eventually nods. 

“make sure you eat, okay? i’ll—i’ll text you and make sure you have. is that alright?” you’re stunned for a few seconds before agreeing, and he ends up sliding you his phone so you can put your number in it.

beomgyu watches it all from his desk, and he feels a sense of loss. is it because you’re directing your attention elsewhere? that has to be it, right? it can't be any deeper than that, but somewhere nearly unreachable inside of him, he feels an unfamiliar sensation scratching at his heart, begging him to  acknowledge it. but he shakes away the thought. you’re acting really weird, but that’s okay. you love him, and you’ll get back to normal really soon.

that’s what he tells himself, but you remain as cold as ever throughout the rest of the week. you don’t look at him with those adoring eyes, and you don’t even crack a smile at his attempted jokes. he feels like he's going insane, as if he's on the brink of understanding something really important, but he can't quite make it there. 

it all comes to a head when beomgyu shows up late back from grabbing lunch. he's done this a million times before, and he's always been greeted by your insistence that his tardiness isn't a big deal. in spite of the tension between you two, he still assumes that you'll be as forgiving as ever.

“hey, sorry i'm late. i got caught up with eating and didn't realize how late it was getting,” he says casually. he searches your face for any traces of leniency, for the indulgence you used to give him, but there is none. only anger, and maybe even something like regret, though he can't quite understand the latter.

“don't be late again. we don't have time for this,” you say coldly before sticking your nose back into your computer, effectively ignoring anything else beomgyu could say to placate you.

you two work late into the night. beomgyu gets so caught up in his work, too afraid to draw your ire again, but when he realizes he hasn't heard any noise coming from you in a while, he peers over to see you staring blankly at the wall. your face seems expressionless, but your eyes are what horrifies him. dead, empty, hopeless. “a-are you okay?”

the sound of his voice does nothing to break you out of your trance, however. in fact, it seems to have triggered something in you, decimated a dam that was already leaking. your eyes still look blank as tears begin to leak out of your eyes. they fall slowly at first, then incessantly. it's hard to reconcile the steady stream with the way your face remains completely devoid of emotion. 

tentatively, he places a hand on your shoulder. suddenly, you're jolted awake, eyes now looking as composed and indifferent as ever.

“are you okay? w-what's wrong?” he asks anxiously, 

you hurriedly wipe away your tears before you say, “nothing. just thinking about something.” you redirect your attention to your work, just trying to fully shake the way you were just locked into the memory of you dying alone.

“what could you possibly be thinking about to make you look like that?” he asks concernedly, his voice unintentionally rising in frustration. your eyes harden before you turn to him.

“none of your business,” you say firmly. before he can say anything, you're packing up your things. “i'm going to call it a night and go home.”

“wait! talk to me! what's been bothering you so much lately? you've been weird for a while now, so just tell me what's going on with you. i'm here. i'm listening,” he says as gently as he can.

“you're here? you're listening?” you sneer. “i'm so honored that you finally give a fuck about how i'm feeling,” you say sarcastically. he frowns at your words.

“what are you talking about? i'm always here for you,” he says, and he looks so genuine, it makes you even angrier. he sincerely thinks he's telling the truth. so fucking clueless and selfish.

“are you? do you think offering up your ear once in a blue moon makes you an altruistic angel or something?” you know he can't understand that you're throwing his own words back in his face, because he can't even remember saying them, but you don't care. it just feels too damn vindicating to stop yourself. “beomgyu, you're only as available to me as is convenient to you. you'd never put yourself out of your way to comfort me. meanwhile, i've always been ‘here’ and ‘listening’ at your will. i don't need your pity, and i certainly don't want it.” he's stunned into silence. you're absolutely correct, he realizes with a sinking feeling. before he can formulate the words to defend himself, you pack up your things and leave the office.

-

in the following weeks, you realize that mingi is… nice. really, really nice. you’re not used to prospective romantic partners actually seeming to like you, so the feeling is foreign, but not unwelcome. do you have feelings for him outside of appreciation? well, not really. in the back of your mind, you honestly doubt that you’re even capable of having feelings for other people anymore, but you try not to think about it too much. if you seriously search for an answer, you fear you won’t like what you find.

mingi is diligent, though, and you like that about him. now that you’ve made it clear that you’re not involved with beomgyu (and never want to be), he’s pulling out all the stops to charm you. lunches you would previously spend with beomgyu are now spent laughing with mingi. in the same way, downtime at work, which would normally entail catching up with beomgyu and maybe helping with a few of his assignments, are now reserved for chats with mingi. as beomgyu watches you two giggle with your heads together, he wonders what you two could possibly be talking about to ever be that funny. his jaw ticks in irritation at the scene. most notably, though, is the fact that instead of spending your off days with him, you flatout reject him with no explanation. not even with a perfunctory “sorry”. he doesn't have to wonder what you’ve been doing when he hears your coworkers gossiping about how you're always hanging out with mingi. 

beomgyu feels you slipping away, and it brings a sense of panic he’s never known before. but why? he shouldn't care about your romantic endeavors. granted, you haven’t had one during the entire time that you've known him, but it’s only natural that he supports you as your best friend. best friend. does that term even apply to him anymore? he wants to insist that it does, but as the weeks turn into months, your disgust for him becomes clearer and clearer. as he sits across from you and mingi at an after-work dinner with your department, he watches as mingi flirtatiously whispers into your ear. when some of your coworkers tease the two of you about it, he realizes with sickening certainty that he doesn't just want to be your best friend, he wants to be the one who sits next to you. he wants to be the one your coworkers joke about being your boyfriend, and he wants them to be right about it. the time you two have spent apart has shown him that he can't imagine anyone else occupying the space beside you. with an overwhelming sense of clarity, beomgyu realizes that this feeling, so deep and all-consuming, is love.

how could he not love you? regardless of everything you've done for him, you're still so perfect to him, for him. he finds himself appreciating things he previously took for granted. you're beautiful, caring, funny, and smart. he loves your smile, your laugh, your company. he loves the way you look when you're focused, the way you look so innocent when you sleep. you're the first person he wants to tell any time something happens, good or bad. you're the face he wants to wake up to in the morning. you're the only person he trusts to be his partner for the rest of his life. and now, it's clear that he can't just let you go without a fight.

as everyone begins to leave the restaurant one by one, he follows you out into the parking lot, determined to make his feelings known. even if you don't reciprocate them anymore, he's willing to put in the effort to make you love him again. and even if you don't… even if you can't… the desire to simply be next to you supersedes the need to be loved back. 

you don't realize that beomgyu is trailing after you until you get to your car. he calls out your name as you're about to pull the door handle. with a sigh, you turn around.

“what is it?” you ask flatly.

“are you serious about mingi?” he asks firmly, but he already knows that you are not. the way you look at mingi is laughable compared to the way you looked at beomgyu before your sudden change in behavior.

“yep,” you say.

“no, you're not. i can tell,” he argues with conviction.

“oh, and you know me so fucking well, huh?” you snark.

“i do,” he tells you, stepping closer. “i know you, and i know you don't really like him. not really.” damn. he caught you.

“just because i don’t like him now, doesn't mean i can’t like him later,” you insist.

“so what? you’re just going to string him along while hoping you’ll like him someday? are you just going to spend the rest of your life never really caring about anyone? you can't live like that.” his words leave no room for argument, but you’ll be damned before you don't at least try.

“you’re right, i shouldn’t lead him on, but what’s it matter to you? even if it doesn't work out with him, maybe i’ll meet somebody who i can tolerate, and who can tolerate me. i don’t think i need anything more than that.” beomgyu flinches at your bizarre words, but he's already reconciled with the idea that even if you don't want him anymore, he'll still take whatever you want to give him with a smile on his face.

“then what about me? i… i can be that person.” he's so nervous, you can tell that it took all of his courage to say that. but who cares? 

“you can’t,” you argue.

“why not?” 

“that would mean i’d have to be able to tolerate you, and i don’t want to do that.” not anymore.

“why are you acting like this? you’re acting like i’m so fucking horrible, but you used to lo—” he stops himself, but you both know he was going to bring up the love you had for him. “i just want to know what changed.”

“i did. i changed.”

“but why? i mean, i didn’t realize it before, and i know i wasn’t always the best, but i’ve always had feelings for y—” 

“don’t even bother finishing that sentence. you don't like me at all,” you sneer, “you just don’t like seeing me move on.” this makes him pause, and even you don’t have the heart to pretend like you can’t see the hurt in his eyes.

“why can’t you ever just believe me?” he asks quietly. “i’m telling you i love you, but you don’t even care. i’m saying that it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, but you’re acting like… like i'm disgusting to you.” he looks like he's about to cry, and it makes you all the more frustrated.

“you don’t understand,” you reply in between clenched teeth. 

“then help me understand. i just want to know why. i just want to know how to fix it. how can i bring you back?” 

“you can't. look, i’m—” and you’re about to apologize, but you just can’t make yourself do it. “you’ll get it really, really soon. you won’t even remember feeling this way, i can promise you that, and you’ll forget all about me.”

“what are you talking about?” he says exasperatedly. beomgyu may not have always been the best of friends towards you, but he can recognize when you’re holding yourself back. “what aren't you telling me?” you purse your lips in response. 

“nothing. there's no point in saying anything, because you wouldn't understand even if you tried. you wouldn't remember—fuck, never mind. just let it go, beomgyu. i have.” but he can't just let it go. this whole fucking thing as an enigma to him. but your words are… odd. what do you mean he wouldn't remember? there's nothing to remember, no matter how much he tries. before he can respond, you get into your car and drive away.

-

“c’mon, you know i don’t see you like that,” beomgyu tells you, forcing an awkward laugh. your expression immediately crumbles, and he begins to shift uncomfortably when he realizes that he must’ve said the wrong thing. your silence is deafening, ringing in his ears, but he still tries to maintain a smile. maybe you’ll lighten up. maybe you’ll go back to the way you were before. maybe you’ll even crack at smile at this ridiculous situation when you realize that he’s right in his assumption that you’re just being emotional. your feelings for him can only go so deep, right? you can go back to being friends after this, just the way he likes it. 

his smile is wiped clean off of his face when your eyes redden and well up in pure, unadulterated hurt. hurt he’s never seen before. he fumbles for the right words, but before he can find them, you break the suffocating silence. 

“you knew how i felt about you this whole fucking time, you were just too much of a coward to be honest with me. if… if you had just told me, i would’ve understood. i-i would've—you didn't have to do it this way.” any delusions beomgyu has that you’ll just let this go are promptly flushed away at your biting tone. jesus christ. you’re right, and he knows it. he flounders for a response, but nothing he can possibly say could really be enough. 

he spends the duration of the argument mainly trying to defend himself. honestly? he doesn't want to remember everything you two say, but he knows he's being nasty in an effort to keep himself from reconciling with the fact that he is, indeed, a coward. he knows he’s never been the greatest friend to you, though he’s always justified it by recalling the times where he did do thoughtful things for you. when you tell him that your resentment isn’t about the fact that he doesn't feel the same way, but because of the fact that he won’t own up to his actions, he feels a stab to his pride. before he can stop himself, he lashes out. 

“seriously? that's exactly what this is about. you're the altruistic angel who does nothing wrong, and i'm just a fucking scumbag who takes advantage of you, right? well, i'm sorry, but it's not my fault that you're acting so goddamn crazy over something so stupid.” he regrets the words as soon as as he says them. every syllable seems so vile as they leave his lips, but he can't stop himself. when he sees you crack at his words, he really wishes he had just kept his fucking mouth shut. 

“i never want to see you again,” you choke out between sobs, and he feels a piercing pain shoot through his body, all the way down to his bones. you don’t mean that. there’s no way you mean that. you care about him. you love him, and even if he doesn't feel quite the same way, he loves you, too. but one look at your resolute face is enough to tell him that you mean it. he wills himself to say something—anything—but you rush out of the door before he can quite muster up the courage to speak.

he stands in a stunned silence for longer than he could ever rightfully justify, but a call from an unfamiliar number eventually pulls him out of his daze. usually, he’d reject it and chalk it up to spam, but something tells him that he should—needs to—answer it. with shaky hands, he accepts the call. 

“h-hello?”

the response mostly sounds rather clinical in nature, really. there’s a perfunctory greeting before the monotone voice detachedly states that there’s been an accident, and he will need to come to the coroner’s office to accurately identify the corpse, which had been declared deceased at the scene. as it turns out, he was your first emergency contact. 

“we are deeply, deeply sorry.” the final words are the only ones that seem to hold any hint of an emotion in them, but beomgyu is too preoccupied to hear it. in a daze, he gets in his car and makes his way to the coroner’s office. hoping, praying, needing for this to be a bad dream. as he comes to find out, it is not. 

-

beomgyu’s head whips up in horror, and he’s panting like mad in between whimpers. tears incessantly pour out of his eyes, wetting his flushed cheeks. was it all a dream? there’s no way; it was too real to be a dream. he was there—he lived it. no, no, no…

“beomgyu?” a voice says, somewhat breaking him out of his panic. his bleary eyes snap up to the doorway to see you standing there, your eyebrows knit with concern and confusion. you two have been working late again, awkwardly alone together once more after his confession. you saw that he had fallen asleep, but he looked so tired, you couldn't bring yourself to wake him up. “are… are you okay?” he's absolutely frozen as you tentatively approach him, pausing a bit uncertainly before approaching him to get a closer look. he grabs you and tugs you towards him, wrapping his arms around you in an almost bruising grip. he nuzzles his wet face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your familiar scent in between shudders. 

“beomgyu, are you sick? did you have a bad dream?” you ask. his heart would flutter at your concern, concern you haven’t shown him for so long, in any other context; but as it is, he’s far too distraught to appreciate it. 

“i… i remember,” he croaks, trying to get even closer to you, as if doing so is the only way to keep you safe. you’d like to break out of his embrace, but he’s so distraught while you’re so off-guard, you don’t do it just yet. 

“remember what? something about the project? we can—” 

“no. i’m—i remember… i remember losing you.” he can’t quite bring himself to be any clearer, but you seem to understand him, anyway. you stiffen in his arms before prying him off of you. he fumbles for you, just to touch you again, but you push him away. you exert very little force, but it’s firm and unrelenting. 

“oh,” you reply, looking a little lost, but mostly just cold. he's basically wailing now, but he tries his best to answer.

“i’m so, so fucking sorry. i didn’t—” 

“what, you didn’t mean to? you’re sorry? maybe so, but  does it matter?” you cut in, almost snarling. now that he remembers, all of the feelings, all of the resentment you’ve kept bottled up come tumbling out of your mouth. “what's the point in telling me this now, after everything? you’re not sorry, beomgyu. you only care because i’m—because i was gone. i don’t want to hear about your regrets; they’re worthless to me.” he recoils as if you just punched him. his eyes turn even redder than they were before, too, and he’s silent at your words. 

he wants to tell you that you’re wrong, because he really is sorry, but can he truthfully say that he’d realize his feelings if you didn’t… go? he can’t. for all he knows, he’d have rejected you forever. he's so ashamed, he'd rather die than feel this way. even so, he wants to attempt to explain himself; you deserve that much. before he can reply, however, you rise and stalk towards the doorway. it’s reminiscent of the way you left when everything happened, and he desperately tries to follow you, grabbing your arm before you can make it out the door. 

“don’t touch me. don’t you ever touch me,” you seethe, ripping yourself out of his grip as if the mere feeling of his hands on you burns through your skin, and he staggers backwards. he keeps his arm somewhat outstretched, though. just in case you change your mind.

“don’t leave like this. i-i don’t want you to get hurt.” not again.

“what’s it matter to you?” you sneer. “you didn’t care before, so i won’t waste my life on you ever again.” his eyes widen in terror, and tears fall even more profusely than they already were. you begin to leave, but to your regret—and to his anguish, the angriest part of you forces you to turn around and face him again.

“do you want to know what my last thought was?” you ask, face mostly blank besides the slight traces of disdain in your eyes, and he’s too terrified to move or even speak at all. he knows whatever you say will be something that breaks him, so he tries to shrink himself to be as small as possible; subconsciously praying that doing so will make him disappear in the face of your anger. still, your eyes remain locked on his face—narrowing in on him regardless of his efforts. “it was of you, actually. i was wishing i’d never met you.” he visibly flinches as he gasps sharply, feeling like you just knocked the air out of his lungs. he feels like he can’t breathe. it would have felt better if you had just ripped his heart out of his chest, because as it is, it’s aching so badly, he wishes you had. 

his lips tremble, and he looks like he’s just heard the worst news of his life. and he has. you hate him that much? you regret all of the time you had together to the point of wishing it had never happened? he’s never, ever regretted a moment he’s spent with you, but he guesses your company has always been better than his. how could it not be? you’ve always given him more than he could ever reasonably ask for, and even if you hadn’t, you’re still a much better person than he is. better to the extent of making him realize just how unworthy he is.

he lets you leave, but his anxiety makes him frantically pace about the room. he tugs at his hair, willing himself to calm down, but he just can’t. after a few minutes, he texts you and asks if you made it home. to his relief, it says that you’ve read the message, so he knows you must be okay. still, you don’t respond. 

-

the deal is tied up exceptionally smoothly; you’ve done it before, after all, so that comes as no surprise. on the night of the celebratory dinner, you take mingi as your date. you’ve already told him that you don’t see things panning out, but he actually takes it really well. maybe telling him that you’re planning on moving helped smooth things over. still, he insists that you accompany him to the dinner, just as friends. you oblige. 

it’s mostly the same as you remember. you spend the night mixing with your coworkers for the last time, and it’s bittersweet. they don’t know that this will be the last time you see them, as your two weeks before resignation have already passed in secret, and you’ll spend the next few weeks just packing and finding a new place to stay far, far away from here. it’s freeing, in a way. 

at some point, your manager announces that he’ll be making a toast, and the room quiets as everyone’s attention is placed on him. 

“firstly, i���d like to celebrate the success of this collaboration. everyone has worked hard to make everything come to fruition. secondly, i’d like to recognize two of the people who made this possible.” he specially thanks you and beomgyu, which is normal, but the unexpected happens when he voices his regret that you’ll be resigning. 

your coworkers look at you in shock, but one person in particular is especially stunned. beomgyu. your manager probably thanks employees of the other company, too, but he doesn’t hear it. other voices, other people, are drowned out by the buzzing in his ears. you’re leaving, and it's all because of him. 

he tries to drown his feelings in alcohol, stomach burning with every round, but the regret never seems to numb. the room seems to be spinning, and he looks visibly ill. eventually, a familiar figure takes a seat next to him. ah. his previous fiancée.

“hey,” she says, somewhat coyly. he doesn't respond. “wow, are you okay? you look a little green. how are you getting home?” again, he doesn't respond. she actually appears to be embarrassed, but she tries one more time. 

“i actually—i came over here because you're really… cute. if you don't have a way home, i can take you. i won't try anything on you, but i can't just let you go home alone. and maybe, you know, when you're sober, we can—”

“beat it,” he snaps. he knows it’s not her fault, and that she hasn’t done anything, but he still can’t help his resentment, even when it should all be directed towards himself. but his recognition of his unfairness isn’t enough for him to care. she blinks in surprise and embarrassment, rising from her seat in defeat. 

beomgyu continues to drink until he’s on the verge of passing out, putting his face in his hands. he draws attention from everyone, but he doesn’t have the mind to care. people try to approach him, but he flatly rejects everyone who attempts to offer their help in order to ensure that he gets home safely. 

“should you… should you take him home?” mingi asks. it’s obvious who he’s referring to.

“it’s not my problem,” you reply, a bit more curtly than you intended. 

“you’re right, it’s not. but you’re the only one he’ll listen to, and i think you know that.” mingi argues. you sigh. he’s right. as much as you want to blame beomgyu for everything, you’ve come to realize that after the conversation—more like confrontation—you two had, you’re not angry anymore. it was hard to see in the moment, but you’ve begun to question your merciless stance towards him. isn’t it partially your fault that things turned out the way they did? he didn't make you check your phone that day, so isn’t it unfair to completely blame him for everything? 

with this in mind, you approach him. he initially bats you away, assuming you’re just another one of his coworkers, but your voice pulls him out of his drunken stupor.

“c’mon. i’ll take you home.” his head whips up in surprise, and he almost thinks you’re joking, but your face is completely serious.

“o-okay,” he replies, sounding extremely docile. you don’t respond, but you begin to walk ahead of him as you head to the exit. he’s having a hard time even following you as he clumsily staggers through the crowd, following you like a lost puppy. hesitantly, he reaches out for your hand, though the fear of you telling him not to touch you remains. you turn back to see his fingers hesitantly outstretched to your hand, and with a look of resignation, you let him grab it as you lead him out.

the ride to his home is a silent one. beomgyu rests his head upon the cold window as he stares at the scenery outside. he doesn’t really take anything in, far too dazed to appreciate the view, but he looks, anyway. 

when you enter his apartment, begrudgingly letting him lean on you for support, you take him to his bedroom. he plops down onto his bed in an unnaturally clumsy manner. 

“th-thanks for taking me home,” he says meekly. 

“mm,” you reply, no inflection of emotion in your tone, getting ready to leave and head to your apartment. 

“w-wait! can you… can you stay here tonight?” you look at him doubtfully, but before you can resolutely deny him, he begins to retch. with widened eyes, you pull him up and drag him to his bathroom. he hunches over the toilet and lets everything go. he’s trembling after he’s finished, and you clean him up as best as you can. he melts into your touch as you gently wipe his face. you’re not soothing him with your words like you would’ve a few months ago, but your care, no matter how unwilling you seem to give it, is something he revels in. he brushes his teeth, but he keeps his eyes on your pensive reflection in the mirror. after he's finished, you speak.

“i’ll stay,” you tell him. 

“w-what?” he questions, eyes watery.

“i’ll stay for tonight. i’ll take the couch. i just don’t want to leave you when you’re feeling like this. it’s dangerous.” 

“n-no! you can stay in the guest room.” 

“i need to be able to hear you if something happens,” you argue. 

“th-then i’ll sleep on the couch. i don’t want you to—” 

“beomgyu, you need to properly rest. if you don’t sleep in your room, i’ll leave.” his face crumbles before he acquiesces with a strained nod.

“good,” you say with a ghost of a smile at his blind obedience, but he's too drunk to notice it. if he had, he would’ve clung to it like a man drowning. 

“thank you,” he solemnly whispers.  

“goodnight, beomgyu.”

“goodnight,” he says, and you rifle through his drawer for some clothes before heading to his living room and changing. you pull out spare blankets from his linen closet before sliding onto his couch.

you sleep rather peacefully, but beomgyu has no such luck. instead, he's pulled into a dream—one he comes to realize is a memory.

-

when beomgyu arrives at the coroner’s office, there is a moment, albeit brief, that he sickly hopes that it’s literally anyone else in the world, but when he sees you—body mangled nearly beyond recognition—he realizes that there is no such mercy. apparently, you didn't even die on impact, but by the time somebody reached you, you were already gone. he doesn't want to imagine how you must've felt, being alone in your last moments, but he feels like he should. against the warnings of the coroner and surrounding police officers, he demands for your face to be uncovered. he can surely identify you based on frame and clothing alone, but for reasons he doesn’t dare to dwell on, he feels like he just has to see. he just has to be sure. he just has to know what he did to you. 

and he does come to know it. to his eternal regret, he begins to know it at that moment, and consequently, every moment after. as it turns out, they suspect that you were looking at your phone before you swerved off of the road. he doesn’t know how, but he’s instinctively sure that it’s because you were waiting on his call. one  resounding thought thrums incessantly in his head: it’s all his fault, all his fault, all his fault.

your face is bloody, barely even showing any of the underlying skin, and marred from shattered glass. he swallows thickly as he reaches out to touch you, running his hands over the gashes on your face as softly as he can as to avoid hurting you, and he can’t help but wonder if it’s at all possible for him to tend to your wounds. he would go over single one, softly patching you up back to normal; but you're already cold to the touch, and though you definitely can’t feel anything, his mind imagines how much it must hurt to have him caress the gaping wounds on your face. he snatches back his hand, as if his touch is poison to you. 

“s-sorry, i’m really sorry!” he panickedly exclaims. “i-i won’t—i didn’t mean to hurt you.” he’s unsure if he means that in the current physical or the previous emotional sense, but does that really matter? he already has. besides, you can’t feel anything anymore. all of your muscles are relaxed, leaving you devoid of any expression as your eyes hollowly stare up at the ceiling. for a moment, he wishes the hurt he saw in them a mere hour ago was still there. anything would be better than the current blankness of your features. 

the blankness remains, however, even after all of the makeup and superficial repairs done to make you look like you’re only peacefully asleep. to him, you just look dead, no matter how badly he wishes the former were the case. as much as he wants to speak at your funeral, he does not. he doesn't deserve the dignity to speak, much less to properly mourn you. not after what he said to you. not when everything that's happened is all his fault.

the breakup with his girlfriend—or fiancée—is more bothersome than he can handle. in between her pleas and attempts to reason, all he can do is coolly recite the constant refrain: “i’m sorry, i just don’t want to be with you.” she tells him he’s just grieving, that he’ll get over it with time, and she wants to support him while he does it; but he montonously repeats his words as if they're the only ones he knows. in her anger and desperation, she tells him he’s making a mistake, and that he’s just feeling guilty because of your unrequited love, which ultimately proves itself to be the categorically worst thing to say. he finally explodes, telling her that she was the mistake, that he doesn't know what he ever saw in her that even closely compares to you, and he'd take every moment with her back if he could. she's the biggest regret of his life, which previously felt like it had only just begun, but now feels like it stretches far beyond what he can tolerate. 

in the days, weeks, months that follow, he struggles to understand how something so unjust could occur. it doesn't make sense. really, it just doesn't make sense. eventually, even his initially patient friends grow weary of his neurotic harping upon how unfair it is, how sudden and wrong it all is. he should be punished. you shouldn’t have had to be the one to suffer, but you were. what kind of justice is that? what kind of universe allows something so cruel to happen right under its nose?

when everyone finally tells him that it’s time to move on and let go, he resorts to speaking to the only person who can’t argue back. you. he visits you every day, bringing you gifts on christmas and your birthday, and even just when he sees something he think you'd like. in a way, they’re almost like sacrifices to you to atone for what he did. his contrition. he spends many of his visits by raving like a man gone mad at a stone slab. he likes to think that you’re agreeing with him, that you see the unfairness for what it is. he’s realized that he loves you, has always loved you, but he was too self-absorbed to notice. as hypocritical as it is, he’s only noticed after you… left, and he’s more disgusted by himself than he ever thought possible. still, he thinks you deserve to know. you deserve for him to be brave and tell the truth, but who cares? what’s the use of only recognizing it after everything he’s done? 

he apologizes to you while crying about how much he misses you. he tries to tell you about other things, too. about the things he thinks you would’ve liked to hear. about current events he decides you’d find funny or interesting, about life updates on your friends that you’d want to know, about how a new album has been released by an artist you really liked, and that he can't quite bring himself to listen to it yet. he’ll definitely listen, though, someday. he’ll give you his opinions after describing each track in great detail, once he’s able to bear it, that is. you always look(ed) forward to their releases, so it’s the least he can do to repay his debt to you. 

but if you owe someone a debt as deep as their life, how can you repay that debt when they’re no longer here to collect it? if he really thinks about it, there are a lot of things he owes you. he owes you the years you spent caring about him when he couldn’t be bothered to reciprocate a fraction of the same courtesy. he owes you every thoughtful action, every encouraging word you wasted on him. he owes you the time you dedicated to make sure he always felt seen, felt understood, felt loved. yes, he owes you a lot of things—too many to properly account for, actually. and now, he even owes you your life. his debt is so heavy, he crumbles under it every day, squirming pathetically beneath the crushing weight of it all like an insect. the worst part is: he owes you more than you ever asked him for. all you wanted in return was honesty, but it appears that even that was too much to ask from him.

he wishes you were here to punish him, to scorn him for being such a fucking bastard. yell at him, hit him, kill him. anything would be fine—he’d tolerate it all—just as long as you were still here. he’d be perfectly content with your hatred, he’d revel in it, even; but he supposes that he doesn’t even deserve that much. as it is, your silence is the most punishment he can receive, but that doesn't feel like it's even close to enough. he finds himself praying for mercy, for some bizarre, cosmic event to put him out of his misery once and for all. he indulges in the idea that if he plays his cards right, if he begs and pleads enough, he’ll find you again. such a notion is initially enough to placate him, but it is to his horror when he realizes that he’s more afraid of that than anything else. what if he finds you, and you tell him, “i never want to see you again,” just like before? such a terrifying outcome is enough to keep him from snuffing out his own light with his own two hands for good. he’d rather live as if he were dead than hear those words again.

so he does. he lives like that for years, decades, until death mercifully takes him. he lives quietly and utterly alone. no wife, no children, and hardly any friends. if your life was robbed from you by his actions, then it’s only right that he lives as if his own were robbed from him, too. it’s the least he can do to atone for what he’s done. what keeps him up at night, though, is the possibility that it’s just not enough. if you do meet him again, what will you say? will you still tell him that you don't want to see him? that the lifetime he spent regretting everything he's ever done pales in comparison to the price you paid for caring about him? as the darkness overcomes him, however, he realizes that you deigning to say anything at all to him is better than your unbearable silence. his final thought before he's swallowed whole is: please, just let me see you one more time.

-

beomgyu awakens in a cold sweat, panting heavily as he struggles to understand where he is. is he still alive? that can’t be right—he clearly felt himself slipping away. but what if he can’t die? what if that’s his punishment? the thought alone is enough to elicit a guttural, “no, no, no!” out of him as he realizes that his nightmare is not yet over, and may very well never be. tears pour down his face as he wails like a child.

“beomgyu?” you say as you walk through the doorway, looking somewhat sleepy and disheveled in clothes he subconsciously registers as his own. when he looks at you, he's relieved, but the regret he feels is what overwhelms him.

“oh, god. i'm—it's all my fault.”

“what?” you ask, still a bit disoriented from just waking up, seeing as how it's still the middle of the night.

“it's all my fault. it's all my fucking fault. i did that to you.” suddenly, you realize what he’s saying, and your heart clenches at his words.

“beomgyu, no. i was distracted. i didn’t see—”

“you were distracted because of me. you thought i was calling you, i just know it. you were there because of me. because i’m a fucking coward who couldn't just tell you the truth.” you don’t know what to say. did he really blame himself for everything? even after all of this time? before you can answer, he speaks again.

“i saw—you just looked so small. i've never—i didn't even think anyone could bleed that much. you were so cold, a-and your face was—” 

“hey, hey, hey, stop it,” you say firmly, but gently, “you're not—” 

“they said you died at the scene, all… all alone. and i know i was the one who did that. if i had just listened to you, if i had just been honest with you, you would've been alright. but i called you crazy. i said you were being stupid. w-why did i say that? what did i do it for?” 

“look at me,” you say firmly, which makes his unfocused eyes zero in on you. “listen, listen to me. it's not your fault, okay? i used to feel like it was, but now i understand that you were scared. i know you couldn't control how you felt about her, and you were right about you not owing me your feelings. you could've been honest, but that doesn't mean you killed me.” 

“no, i did it. i did it. i did that to you. if i had just—”

“gyu,” you sigh, and his heart can’t help but stutter at the nickname you haven’t called him in months. “i’m telling you it’s not your fault. i used to blame it all on you, and i was wrong for doing that. but you get it now, right? you're supposed to be with her. you love her.”

“no, no, no! i don't. i really don't,” he desperately exclaims, trying to convince you in the only way he knows how.

“maybe not yet,” you concede, “but you will. once you get to know her, you'll want to spend the rest of your life with her. that's how it's supposed to be, just like before.”

“there is no before,” he cuts in pleadingly. “i lived and died alone, just like i deserved. i just—i love you so much, i couldn't stand to let you go.” you frown at his words—they make you actually feel guilty. even so, you guess that it's time to let the purgatory you find yourselves in go. besides, maybe he needs an apology to finally put it all to rest. 

“i'm sorry that—” his heart drops to his stomach. please don’t say it. he’s begging you not to say it. not to someone as unworthy and filthy as him.

“don't. please, please, don't apologize to m—”

“—i made you feel that way. even when i hated you, i never wanted you to live like that; but you can't mistake guilt for… something else. maybe this is another chance to get it right. you can be with her guilt-free, and i can live without regrets.”

“no, i-i didn’t break up with her because of guilt! i did it because i realized that if it’s not you, i don’t want it to be anyone else. it can’t be anyone else.” 

“you don’t know that,” you sigh. “you think you feel that way, but you’re just sad that things ended how they did.” 

“you’re wrong!” he exclaims. “i didn’t realize it—i was too stupid to realize it. and i know it’s disgusting of me, but i only… i only understood it after i lost you. i-i’m sorry i didn’t realize it before, but please don’t tell me how i feel. i spent every day wishing i would just fucking die so i could see you again. i just couldn’t stand living without you. that’s not normal—that’s not how friends feel, no matter how guilty they are. i just wanted to die.” you purse your lips at his words as you feel dread pooling in your stomach. at least when you died, you didn’t suffer for long, but he suffered for the rest of his life. in the same way, you didn’t want him to hurt himself, no matter how angry you were. 

beomgyu has begun to hyperventilate, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of you—too afraid that you’ll disappear if he does. he’s probably having a panic attack as tears stream down his face, and he ruthlessly tugs at his hair in pure distress. all he can do is repeat that it's all his fault and how sorry he is, and any lingering resentment you may feel dissipates like smoke at his absolutely shattered state. it seems like he really can't live without you, so are you sure you can abandon him like this? you don't think so. although it may not be right, you still think that it's worth a shot. you don't think he has the capacity to hurt you ever again, and you realize that even after everything, you don't think you can love somebody the way that you love him. so, you're willing to let him try again.

“hey, hey. stop it,” you coax, seating yourself on his bed. but he can’t stop it, he physically can’t. he’s whimpering now, like a wild beast with a mortal wound. you don’t hesitate to take him into your arms, holding him tightly as you shush him. “shh, it’s okay, i’m here. don’t cry. i’m here, and i won’t leave again. i promise. just breathe, in… then out. that’s it, just like that. good job.” 

eventually, his breath begins to even out, though his body is still racked with shudders. you’re here. you’re okay. you promised that you won’t leave him, and you always keep your word when it comes to him. he finally feels like he can breathe, and even though he’s in so much pain, he still wishes this moment will never end. he wishes he could stay in your arms forever, never letting you leave his side. always staying where he can reach you.

“better?” you ask, pulling away to get a good look at him, but he shakily grips your sleeve in sheer desperation. he just has to be touching you, somehow. he forces himself to nod.

“good,” you say, eyes soft and lips slightly upturned in relief. he almost loses it again at the sight of your smile, no matter how small. he never thought he’d see it directed towards him again in this life or the next. “do you want to start over?” 

“s-start over?” he asks. he doesn't dare to let himself hope that you mean what he thinks you mean. 

“start over,” you nod. “we can try again, okay?” 

“oh, p-please,” he begs. he’s so pathetic. he doesn’t deserve your mercy, but he supposes he’s too selfish to reject it. you look at him for a long, long time with soft eyes. you’re not angry anymore—he’s suffered more than enough, and you finally believe that he loves you just as much as you love him, and maybe even a little more than that.

“you promise you won't hurt me again?”

“i promise. i swear to god—” 

without a second thought, you gently cup his face in your hands, which makes his words catch in his throat. his eyes widen as you lean in while pulling him towards you. when your lips meet, he’s electrified to his bones. he melts into the kiss, whimpering slightly at the feeling of your lips against his. when you break apart, you rest his forehead on his own, closing your eyes as he stares at you before he does the same. he clutches the hand you have on his face and grazes his thumb over it as he lets out a contented sigh. nobody has ever made him feel this way before, and if he could go back to the first day he met you, he’d tie you to him immediately. 

“thank you, thank you so much,” he whispers. with a smile, you press your lips against his again. he falls into the feeling just as easily as the first time, and you push him down before continuing to go even deeper. before completely giving in. 

you spend the night loving and being loved in a way that you never thought you could. you feel cherished to a degree you previously considered impossible. beomgyu reveres you as if you’re his god, and he shows you as much with how loving and gentle he is. when you’re finished, panting heavily against each other, he holds his hand against your cheek as he stares at you in awe.

“i missed you so much. i love you so much. i promise that nobody will ever love you as much as i do. i promise that nobody will ever treat you as well as i will. just don’t leave me, okay?” and when the time comes, even if you do leave first, he’ll be sure to follow you. he won't let you be alone ever again. but he definitely can’t tell you that, or else you’d yell at him for not caring about his life enough.

“okay,” you tell him with a sleepy smile, and he beams before kissing your forehead and letting you drift off. he stares at your peaceful face, resolving to always give you what you want, no matter what it costs him. even if it kills him, he'll gladly do whatever it takes to ensure that you're happier with him than you could ever be with anyone else. he'll prove to you how much he loves you, and he'll pay back the debt he owes you a million times over. you'll see. he’ll marry you, start a new life with you, and chain himself to you forever; which may sound selfish, but he’ll make up for his willfulness by being everything you could ever want and need. and finally, before he joins you to sleep, he thanks the universe for having mercy on him—for letting him see you again.

notes pt. 2: ... so? LMAOOOOO i hope this was worth the wait bc this work was so hard for me to get through it was making me so sad to write it. anyway, love yew. please don't be mean to me tho like if u don't like it just close your eyes n scroll 🙏

permanent taglists: (sfw only) @defnotleee @yaoizee @tubatukimoa ([n]sfw/sfw) @lonelybutterflytae @cherrycolaberry @everythingvirgoes @midwinterblizzard @sooberryworld @20-cms @hyueika @boba-beom @vicurious28 @blossommi @lickingan0rchid @katsukis1wife @binniebakery @notevenheretbh1 @shymexican @that1sadgrl @archoive @paegesoobin @buttercreamerie @ifwtxt @softesyoongi @serenityism00 @fairfootedflekk @kyanmeai @definitelynotherr @hyunj00 @taehyunluvrs @m00gyu @denleave1088 @hwanghyunjinismybae @bmo-bri @todorokiskitten @choikanghuening @naoristerling

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[lady-loveluck]

Why is like, the controversial/weird part of the fandom plagued by "fun police"?

I don't think this fandom is toxic, far from it! Loveliest experience I've had actually! Yet every fandom has that troubling side, and what has caught my eye is that the troubling side in this fandom is not ship wars, is not people being weird.

Is just... fun police?

"People should stop writing michie that way, is toxic", "if you enjoy Sam sweetly I don't trust you", "you have to write this ship this exact way otherwise you're a bad person for liking it". Where's the headcanon love? The fan creation whimsy?

How can you be so boring to literally throw shade at headcanons or different interpretations? Imagine having to follow 56754986 rules you set yourself to be able to enjoy some fictional fan media. I find it so weird, specially in the Hatchetfield fandom because most characters there are fucking assholes.

I know I'm not usually bringing this stuff in my blog, but yesterday and today I read some things and I just wanted to throw something there.

[crazysodomite]

i never know how to phrase this right bc i dont want to seem like one of those people who thinks Sexuality Is Evil. i don't have any problem with sexuality at all. please dpnt assume😭

that being said, i feel like some people overcompensate for sexuality being shamed by making everything sexual... idk how to phrase it better to not sound weird like that but its like this: society says nudity is inherently sexual, and thus disgusting. and people overcompensate for it by going "yes, nudity is inherently sexual, but that's good, because it's Hot and Sexy" instead of just being "nudity isn't inherently sexual, its just neutral" and something being or not being sexual isn't a reflection on its moral quality. going to a sauna isn't inherently sexual, it can be, which doesn't make it good or bad, but it just a neutral action at the same level as being in a room of people who aren't naked in a sauna.

in the same fashion people think sexualizing someone = good and signals respect. i respect you as a person because i think you're Hot and i say sexual things about you uninvited because sexuality = good and finding someone sexy is respecting them and flattering to them.

in the same fashion people see art and say "this is obviously sexual, which is fine, because sexuality is good" while ignoring the author's intent/wishes. my drawing of a nude figure isn't inherently sexual, seeing it that way is fine, but i don't enjoy that interpretation pushed onto me.

i might get flak for this but i don't even think there are clearly defined borders of what is and isn't sexual and trying to define it isn't productive. something that is Inherently Sexual to you might not be sexual at all to another person. and seeing something and going: clearly the author intended this to be sexual because i see it that way 🧐isn't appreciated. im an adult and saying sexual things to me unprompted is still inappropriate, that's to say nothing of Not fucking checking age in bio before commenting on someone's post.....

sexuality isn't bad in any way but seeing certain things or displays of affection or nudity as inherently sexual presents A lot of Issues, even if you think sexuality is Good

[claramelooo]

CRIMSON REVERIE

Literaries references today, huh? I hope you like it.

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Warning: +18, NSFW, Dirty talk, feet fetish

Summary: The witch makes you hers, finally.

Hey! Now I've a masterlist

POETRY

The days after the camp were a mixture of tension and inevitability. You and Wanda seemed to orbit each other, like planets drawn by the gravity of something far greater than either of you was willing to admit.

In the classroom, the glances between you two grew more intense. Sometimes, you could feel her gaze fixed on you, so burning that it was impossible not to shiver. Once, while reading aloud, your voice faltered because Wanda tilted her head subtly, her green eyes evaluating every detail of you as if you were the only thing that mattered in that moment.

The atmosphere felt heavy, as if the air was thick with something no one could explain, but which you felt deeply.

You felt her gaze land on you from time to time. It wasn’t just any look—it was something burning, filled with intensity, as if she were waiting for you to do something, anything, to draw her attention even more.

The classroom was immersed in an almost reverent silence, except for Wanda Maximoff’s soft voice as she read a passage from Crime and Punishment. She moved between the desks with a copy of the book in hand, the afternoon light streaming through the windows and illuminating her red hair like a profane halo.

“‘Man has become so accustomed to reasoning about everything and always on the basis of arguments that he has forgotten it is also possible to argue against his own arguments.’” She closed the book with a gentle motion, but the snap of the cover echoed through the room like a warning.

Her eyes rose to the students but landed on you with surgical precision. A familiar heat climbed your neck, and you looked away, pretending to jot something in your notebook.

"Y/n," she called, and your heart nearly stopped. "What’s your interpretation of this passage?"

You lifted your eyes slowly, feeling the weight of her stare. Wanda tilted her head slightly, her lips curling into a smile that only you could decipher: provocation, curiosity, and something much deeper.

"Well..." you began, trying to keep your voice steady. "Maybe it’s about how people can rationalize even what they know is wrong. Justifying the unjustifiable. A kind of... psychological game, maybe."

She narrowed her eyes, clearly amused. "Interesting. But do you think it’s just a game? That there are no consequences for those who play it?"

The hidden meaning behind her words hit you like a blow. Your defiant gaze met hers, and a tense silence filled the room.

"That depends," you replied, holding her gaze. "Some games are worth the risk. As long as the players are willing to go all the way."

The students exchanged confused glances, feeling the weight in the air but unable to grasp the true reason.

Yelena, sitting two seats over, raised an exaggerated eyebrow, her eyes darting between you and Wanda as if trying to piece together a complicated puzzle. She leaned toward Bucky, who was on the other side, and whispered: “What the hell is she doing?”

Bucky bit the end of his pen, clearly trying not to laugh. “No idea, but... this is weird as hell.”

"Weird?" Yelena rolled her eyes. "This is a show. Don’t you feel it? It’s like watching a Russian soap opera, but without subtitles."

Bucky gave her a light slap on the arm, stifling a laugh. “Shut up; Bishop’s taking notes. She might sell the script later.”

Kate, sitting further back, looked at them with a mock-indignant expression. “I’m here trying to understand Dostoevsky, and you two are commentating like it’s halftime at a game?”

Yelena shrugged, gesturing toward the teacher. “Sorry, but Maximoff’s looking at Y/n like she’s about to eat her. How do you expect us to focus?”

You heard the whispers and felt your face heat even more, but you didn’t dare turn to face them. Instead, you focused on Wanda, who seemed perfectly unaware of the murmurs—or, more likely, ignored them because she was too busy teasing you.

Yelena crossed her arms, a mischievous grin forming on her lips. “This is gonna go south, Buck.”

Bucky snorted. “It’s already gone south. What’s left is how far.”

Wanda couldn’t deny it—you were a daring little brat. Too clever for your own good, confident in a way that made her skin prickle with irritation—and something darker, more visceral. It was like watching someone play a dangerous game without understanding the stakes. And yet, it drew her in, making her fingers itch with need.

"Interesting perspective, Y/n," Wanda said, her voice low, almost lazy, as she approached your desk. Each step seemed calculated, and the sound of her heels on the floor reverberated through the room like the tick of a countdown clock. She stopped beside you, close enough for you to feel her warmth, and tilted her head with an enigmatic smile. "But sometimes, it’s worth remembering that some players might not be as prepared as they think. Wouldn’t you agree?"

You lifted your eyes to her, meeting the gaze that seemed determined to unravel you completely. “Sometimes you just have to play to find out how far you can go,” you murmured, your voice firm, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed your vulnerability.

Wanda felt a wave of desire and frustration mingle. How dare you? Here, in front of everyone, with no fear. She wanted to smile, but the control she needed to exert was like a tight chain around her will. Her instincts screamed to put you in your place, to shatter that confidence that challenged her at every turn.

She stepped back with the same calculated calm, but inside, she felt the tension pulsing through every cell. Her fingers tingled with the desire to trace your jawline, to replace that defiant smile with something softer, more submissive.

The room seemed to hold its breath, every student frozen in the moment, unsure of what exactly was happening. But Wanda knew. And you knew. And, in that instant, she promised herself that the lesson she’d mentioned would be taught—intensely, memorably, and entirely on her terms.

Then, the shrill sound of the bell echoed through the room, and the students began to rise, packing their things as the buzz of conversation grew. You prepared to leave too, but before you could take more than two steps, Wanda passed by you, her intoxicating perfume filling the air.

She leaned in slightly, her lips almost brushing your ear, and murmured low but firm: “My office. Now.”

The commanding tone made your legs tremble, and you barely managed to gather your notebooks, each movement hesitant and clumsy. When you arrived at her office, the atmosphere felt stiflingly charged. The door barely closed behind you before Wanda turned and crossed the space with quick steps.

Without warning, her hands grabbed your arms, pulling you close, your back colliding with the wooden desk. The sound of objects shifting on impact seemed insignificant compared to the weight of the moment.

"How dare you?" Wanda whispered, her voice low yet brimming with authority and something more—something that made every cell in your body vibrate.

Her hands were firm and possessive against your body, exploring without hesitation, marking you with her heavy touch. Her eyes glowed with a hypnotic red, and you felt as though you were being pulled into an abyss.

You should have apologized, should have yielded, but instead, your hand reached up, cupping her face as you pulled her into an urgent and dominating kiss. Your lips collided as if the world were ending, as if time was too fleeting for hesitation.

Wanda responded with a low growl, her fingers gripping your waist tightly enough to leave marks. Her taste was intoxicating—a blend of control and desire that made your head spin. You felt like you were drowning in the red sea that was Wanda Maximoff, and there was nothing in the world you wanted more than to lose yourself completely in that ocean.

The room seemed to vibrate with the energy radiating from Wanda. Objects around you began to tremble, then levitate. Books, chairs, and even the desk started floating in the air, swirling in a chaotic vortex of pure power.

Wanda pushed you further against the desk as she herself seemed consumed by the intensity of her emotions. Her hand moved to encircle your neck, her fingers firm but calculated, as if she measured her strength precisely.

"You're such a naughty girl..." her voice was low, husky, almost a purr. "It drives me crazy to—"

Her sentence broke off, her breath ragged as her eyes burned a vivid red. The scarlet hue spread throughout the room, enveloping everything. You felt a wave of heat and power coursing through the space, making your skin tingle.

Her hands on your neck were firm, possessive, but far from cruel. The control Wanda maintained, even with her powers teetering on the edge of chaos, was overwhelmingly impressive. The pressure was just enough to make you feel small, vulnerable—exactly as she wanted.

"I should punish you for being so defiant," she continued, her voice dripping with desire and authority, her fingers tightening slightly as she tilted her head to watch you with hungry eyes. "You provoke me, and now... you should face the consequences, don't you think, little one?"

The chaos in the room intensified. Books flew open, pages ripping through the magical crimson wind, chairs spinning in the air, and the sound of furniture crashing against walls was muffled by the pounding of your heartbeat. It was mesmerizing—the woman before you truly powerful.

And you knew you should fear her.

But you weren't afraid. The heat rising through your body was more intense than anything else, an intoxicating blend of submission and excitement. You met Wanda's eyes, making it clear you didn't want to stop.

Her smile was predatory, satisfied, as she leaned in to claim your mouth again. The kiss was overwhelming, a reflection of the storm around you, and you lost yourself in it, lost in the red sea that was Wanda Maximoff.

You gasped when Wanda finally loosened her grip on your neck, but the red glow in her eyes still burned. Your mind was a mess, every part of your body pulsing in response to her touch. But you didn't want to surrender completely—not yet.

"Is that all you've got?" The words slipped out before you could think, your tone full of provocation. Your chest heaved, adrenaline mixed with desire coursing through every fiber of your being.

Her smile vanished for a moment, replaced by something far more dangerous. Her eyes narrowed as she pulled you even closer, your bodies practically pressed together. "You really want to play with fire, my little girl?"

"Maybe," you replied, feeling the heat rise to your face. "Or maybe I just think the Scarlet Witch isn't all she's cracked up to be."

Her reaction was instant. The red in the room exploded in intensity, and for a moment, it seemed like the very air vibrated. Her hands released your body, but only because she took a step back, her gaze fixed on you as if deciding what to do.

A whirlwind formed around your bodies, lifting you slightly off the ground.

"You have no idea who you're dealing with," she whispered, but there was something deeper in her voice, a tone that didn’t belong solely to Wanda.

That’s when you saw it. The red in her eyes intensified, her pupils consumed by the scarlet glow. Her posture shifted, her shoulders straighter, her head tilted in a way that exuded pure power.

"Oh, you wanted to play, didn't you?" Her voice was different, deeper, laden with an energy that made your knees tremble. "Now you have my full attention."

Your breath hitched as the Scarlet Witch stepped forward, her power so palpable it weighed down the air.

She raised a hand, and you were pulled closer without her needing to touch you. Her gaze was locked onto yours, both challenging and ravenous. "Now tell me, little rebel," she teased, her smile almost cruel. "Is this what you wanted? The real me?"

You swallowed hard but still found the strength to respond. "Maybe I just wanted to see how far you'd go."

Her laugh echoed through the room, low and dangerous, as the chaos around you intensified. "You have no idea, my dear. But I'll show you. Slowly. Until you can't take it anymore."

She extended a hand, the crimson glow dancing at her fingertips as the world around you seemed to vanish, leaving only you and her in the eye of a scarlet storm.

"I bet you were crazy for this too," Wanda murmured against your neck as she marked it with her teeth. "God— I can smell you from here."

Wanda's kiss was devastating, a collision of desire and possessiveness that left you utterly breathless. Your lips moved against hers with overwhelming intensity, as if the entire world had vanished, leaving only her. When you finally pulled apart, a thread of saliva, glistening and tinged crimson, connected you—a vivid reminder of the fervor you had shared.

You felt like you were in heaven, in a place no one had ever taken you before. Your heart pounded in your chest, your entire body trembling from a mix of excitement and shock. Wanda's hands roamed boldly over your body, leaving a trail of heat wherever they touched.

But then reality hit you like a cold wave. This wasn’t right. It wasn’t right with Vision, with her children, and not even with yourself.

“Wanda, wait," you murmured, your voice trembling as you grasped her wrist, halting her touch that was making your head spin.

It took her a moment to process your words, her red eyes still blazing with raw energy. Her primal instincts were on full display, and for a moment, it seemed as though she couldn’t hear anything beyond the call of her own hunger.

"What now?" she whispered, her voice hoarse, still dripping with desire.

"This... isn’t right," you stammered, your eyes filled with a mix of guilt and confusion. "Vision, the boys... you..."

Wanda blinked, as if your words had finally pierced through her haze. The red glow in her eyes gradually dimmed, the intensity giving way to something more human—something more painful.

"Shit," she muttered under her breath, pulling away from you, her hands still trembling. She ran a hand through her hair, messing it up as she tried to compose herself. "Shit, shit, shit."

The frustration in her voice was palpable, but there was also something else—a guilt buried deep, like a twisted knife in her chest.

"You promised you’d sort things out soon!" you burst out, your voice louder than you intended, but the frustration that had been building for days needed release. "I’m here, Wanda. I’m waiting for you. And in the meantime, I’m stuck in this limbo, not knowing what’s real or what you want from me!"

Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, the silence between you was heavy as lead. Then Wanda took a step back, her fists clenched, but her gaze still fixed on you.

"You think this is easy for me?" Her voice was low, almost a growl. "You think I don’t think about this every second? That I don’t want to throw everything away and just... take you away? Make you mine?"

You swallowed hard but didn’t back down. "Then why don’t you? Why keep playing with me like I’m just... another piece on your chessboard?"

Wanda laughed, but it was hollow, devoid of humor. "Because it’s not just about you and me, Y/n! Do you understand what’s at stake here? My life. My children. My reputation. Everything I’ve built could fall apart because of this."

"And what about me?!" you shot back, tears stinging your eyes, though you refused to let them fall. "Am I the only one who has to carry this alone? To deal with the guilt, the doubt, the desire? Because it feels like while you can have me and still keep everything intact, I only have you."

Wanda hesitated, and for the first time, you saw something like vulnerability in her eyes. But it was fleeting, replaced quickly by the fire you knew so well.

"You think I don’t feel the same?" she asked, stepping closer to you again, her voice softer but loaded with emotion. "You think I’m not drowning in this as much as you are?"

"Then why does it feel like I’m the only one losing control?" you murmured, your voice now shaky.

Wanda sighed, running a hand through her hair, as though trying to pull herself together but failing miserably. "Because I’m good at hiding it, Y/n. I had to learn. But you..." She stopped, her eyes scanning your face, your body. "You’re so young. So raw. Perfect to mold—" Her hands trembled with a deep excitement. "And that’s what destroys me. Because when I’m with you, I forget everything that’s supposed to matter. Everything that’s supposed to hold me back."

Her words tightened a knot in your chest, because they echoed a truth you couldn’t admit to yourself. "And now?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wanda stepped even closer, her hands cupping your face with a gentleness that seemed at odds with the intensity you’d just shared. "Now, we drown together," she said, her eyes blazing again, but this time with something deeper, more sincere. "Because I’m not letting you go. And I know you won’t either."

You both remained silent for a long moment after your intense exchange of words. The weight of tension still hung heavily in the air, but now there was something different—an undeniable determination in her green eyes. She began pacing the room, clearly trying to organize her thoughts.

"I can’t keep doing this," she finally said, abruptly stopping and turning to face you.

You frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Wanting you close but having to hold back. Trying to keep up appearances while feeling like I’m going to explode every time I see you."

Your heart pounded in your chest, but you kept your tone cautious. "So, what are you thinking?"

A small smile curled her lips—not the warm smile you sometimes saw, but something more calculated, almost predatory. "I’ve had an idea, my sweet. And maybe it’ll be enough until I can sort things out."

Wanda stepped closer, leaning in as if to share a forbidden secret. "The boys need a private tutor. Someone to help them with the subjects they’re struggling with."

You blink, processing her words. "And you want me to... be that person?"

Her smile widened, as though she was pleased with how quickly you’d caught on. "Of course. This way, I can keep an eye on you without having to come up with excuses. Without needing to hide how much I want to be near you."

The idea made your head spin. "Wanda, that’s... complicated. Wouldn’t it seem strange? What about Vision?"

The smile faded for a moment, and her eyes glinted with something darker. "Vision is gone most of the time, busy with work. And as for complicated..." She moved even closer, her breath warm against your skin. "We’re already complicated, Y/n. This just makes things easier."

You felt your resistance melt under her intense gaze. "And the boys?"

"They’ll love you," she said, as though there was no doubt about it. "Besides, you’re smart, patient, and..." Her fingers slid down your arm, her eyes glowing with a mix of desire and adoration. "I trust no one else near them. Or near me."

It was a dangerous proposition—an invitation to dive even deeper into something that already felt impossible to escape. But the way she looked at you, as if the entire universe revolved around you, made it impossible to say no.

"Alright," you finally murmured, feeling as though you were crossing an invisible but definitive line. "I’ll do it."

The smile Wanda gave you was both triumphant and filled with something you couldn’t entirely identify. She reached up to caress your face, her fingers warm against your skin. "You made the right choice, darling. Trust me. I’ll take care of everything for us."

[...]

The Saturday morning dawned sunny, but inside Wanda's house, the atmosphere was a meticulously orchestrated chaos.

"Billy, Tommy, have you cleaned your rooms? I don't want anything out of place!" Wanda called from the kitchen while arranging a plate of freshly baked cookies on the table.

Billy sighed loudly from upstairs. "I already did, Mom! Why does she even need to see my room, anyway?"

Tommy appeared in the living room with a bored expression. "It's just a tutor, Mom. Chill."

Wanda stopped, looking at him with an intensity that made him take a step back. "She's more than that. I want you to make a good impression—no, a great one. Understood?"

The boys exchanged knowing glances but said nothing more. They knew arguing with their mother in this state was pointless.

But if she wasn’t just a tutor, then what was she?

Wanda adjusted the couch pillows for the tenth time and looked around. The house was spotless, the aroma of cookies filling the air. She took a deep breath, feeling the growing excitement in her chest. "Everything needs to be perfect," she murmured to herself.

And then, the doorbell rang.

When you stepped in, Wanda was at the door with a smile that seemed a little wider than usual, the gleam in her eyes betraying her excitement. Seeing you in her home, with her kids—your kids—made everything feel so right.

"Welcome, Y/n. It’s so good to see you."

You smiled shyly, holding a small backpack. "Thank you, professor. It’s a pleasure to be here."

Wanda gestured for you to come in. "Please, just Wanda here. Come, I want to introduce you to the boys."

Billy and Tommy were in the living room, sitting on the couch, clearly curious but trying to play it cool.

"Boys, this is Y/n, your new tutor. Y/n, these are my sons, Billy and Tommy."

You waved a little nervously. "Hi, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I hope we can have fun while learning."

Billy smiled shyly. "Hi."

Tommy was more straightforward. "My mom says you’re funny. Is that true?"

You chuckled softly, relaxing a bit. "Well, that depends on you. But I can try."

Tommy tilted his head, a glint of challenge already in his eyes. "Then show me what you’ve got."

You tilted your head, thinking for a moment before saying:

"Alright, here goes: Why did the book go to the hospital?"

Tommy frowned, confused. "Why?"

Billy, now curious, asked, "What happened to it?"

You gave a playful smile. "Because it broke its spine!"

Billy burst out laughing while Tommy tried to hold back but ended up laughing too, shaking his head.

"That was terrible!" Tommy said, but the grin on his face gave away that he enjoyed it.

"Terrible? I’d call it genius," you replied, crossing your arms with an air of mock superiority.

"Yeah. She’s kinda cool," Tommy muttered to Billy, who nodded in agreement.

You asked them to sit down and share which subjects they found most challenging. Billy and Tommy glanced at each other, as if sharing a secret no one else could understand. The silent connection between them was so palpable that you felt a pang of affection.

"History," they replied in unison, making you chuckle softly, fascinated by how synchronized they were, even in the smallest details.

The twins were captivating. Their eyes sparkled with intelligence and a lively energy that felt familiar, as if a piece of Wanda was in each of them, yet they were uniquely themselves. You couldn’t help but be charmed, feeling something warm bloom in your chest—a feeling you couldn’t quite name.

"History…" You held the word in the air for a moment, as if it had weight. "Can you be more specific? Art history? Greek history? Norse history? American history?" You offered the options playfully, but they didn’t seem very impressed.

"All of them," they replied without hesitation, their casual tone making you raise your eyebrows.

You narrowed your eyes, leaning slightly forward as if engaging in a silent duel. "Alright, gentlemen… Listen closely," you began, your voice taking on a solemn yet warm tone. "I’m going to make you love history. Or my name isn’t Y/n."

The defiant tone awakened something in the boys. Tommy crossed his arms with a mischievous grin, while Billy tried to maintain a serious expression but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Alright, Miss,” Tommy replied, his tone brimming with competitive enthusiasm. “We accept your challenge.”

Billy nodded, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Let’s see if you can do it.”

As you observed them, you realized that in just a few minutes, they had already tugged at your heartstrings. They weren’t just adorable; they were spirited, curious, and full of life. You smiled at them, feeling a connection growing—a quiet and unexpected bond, like their presence filled a space you hadn’t known was empty.

You picked up a book on Greek mythology and stood in front of the boys, holding it as if it were a secret treasure. “Ready to dive into tales of gods, monsters, and heroes?” you asked, your eyes sparkling with excitement.

Billy and Tommy nodded eagerly, their gazes fixed on you.

“It all begins at the dawn of time, when there was nothing but chaos,” you said, spreading your arms dramatically, as if summoning the void. “Then, suddenly, Gaia, the Earth, and Uranus, the Sky, were born. They had children... lots of children. But do you know what Uranus did?”

The boys shook their heads, curiosity piqued.

“He got scared of them! So, he locked them in Tartarus, the deepest, darkest place in the world.” You leaned closer, lowering your voice to build suspense. “But one of them, Cronus, wasn’t having it. He rebelled and became the king of the gods.”

“That’s so cool,” Tommy murmured, his eyes wide.

“Oh, but wait,” you said, raising a finger. “Cronus had a problem. A prophecy said one of his children would overthrow him. So, do you know what he did?”

“What?” Billy asked, completely engrossed.

“He… ate his own children!” you exclaimed, mimicking the gesture with your hands as if devouring something.

“Ew, gross!” Tommy said, wrinkling his nose but laughing at the same time.

“But,” you continued, lifting a finger theatrically, “their mother, Rhea, wasn’t about to let that happen. She hid the youngest, Zeus, and gave Cronus a rock wrapped in cloth instead. Cronus didn’t even notice!”

Billy burst out laughing. “What an idiot!”

“And then Zeus grew up, defeated Cronus, saved his siblings, and became the king of the gods. Which leads to a ton of other crazy stories... but this is just the beginning.”

At that moment, you noticed Wanda standing in the doorway, watching the scene with a nearly imperceptible smile on her lips.

“You’re impressing the boys,” she commented, her voice soft but full of something that made your heart skip a beat.

You shrugged, trying to hide your blush. “Well, with a story like that, it’s hard not to keep their attention, right?”

“It’s more than that,” Wanda replied, her eyes glinting with something you couldn’t quite decipher. “You have a special way with them. And with stories.”

“I like kids. And stories,” you whispered, just for her.

You turned back to the boys, smiling. “Alright, next question: Who thinks they’d have the guts to face a titan like Cronus?”

“Me!” Tommy immediately raised his hand.

“And me!” Billy chimed in excitedly.

You laughed, charmed by their energy. “Well, let’s see how you do in the next challenges!”

As you continued the story, you felt Wanda’s gaze still on you. It wasn’t just pride for the boys or appreciation for your teaching methods. It was something deeper, more complex—something as ancient and powerful as the myths you were recounting.

Wanda stood by the garden door, arms crossed, watching the scene with a mix of curiosity and disbelief. From a shaded spot near the garden, she observed the boys laughing and running around you, completely immersed in the recreation of the mythological battle. Their laughter filled the air, a melody that warmed something deep within her chest.

Her eyes drifted back to you. It wasn’t just the way the boys responded to your presence that fascinated her, but also the energy you exuded. There was a passion in your movements, a genuine joy that seemed to radiate and infect everything around you.

But at the same time, there was something more. The sparkle in your eyes when you spoke to the twins, the way you seemed so at ease, even in a new environment… It all made Wanda feel unsettled, as if she were witnessing something that belonged to her being contested.

Out in the garden, you set up an improvised scene. The hose and sprinkler were strategically positioned, ready to represent the turbulent sea that separated the gods from the Norse giants. In one hand, you held a bucket with diluted red paint—your version of mythological blood.

"Alright, warriors!" you said, placing your hands on your hips and addressing Billy and Tommy as if you were about to lead an army. "Today, we're going to reenact one of the greatest battles in Norse mythology: the fight between Thor and Jörmungandr, the World Serpent!"

Tommy blinked, intrigued. "Who’s Jörmun…gandr?" He struggled with the name, making you smile at his cuteness.

"It’s a giant serpent so big it wraps around the world and bites its own tail," you explained, moving your hands in a large circle. "And guess who fights it in the final battle?"

"Thor!" Billy exclaimed enthusiastically.

"Exactly!" you replied, pointing at him as if he’d just earned points. "And today, one of you will be Thor, and the other will be Jörmungandr!"

The two exchanged glances, already excited.

"I’m Thor!" Tommy shouted, lifting a garden spade like a hammer.

"Then I’m the serpent!" Billy declared, grabbing a hose and swinging it as if it were the tail of a giant reptile.

You began narrating, swirling the red paint as if creating a storm in the bucket. "The sea is raging! The sky fills with thunder as Thor approaches the monster!" You turned on the sprinkler, and the spray of water began soaking everyone, simulating the turbulent sea.

"I attack first!" Billy yelled, spraying water from the hose at Tommy.

"Thor doesn’t back down from danger!" you narrated as Tommy charged forward with his spade. "He raises his hammer and—"

"I hit the serpent’s head!" Tommy shouted, lightly striking the ground near Billy with his spade.

"But Jörmungandr doesn’t surrender easily!" you cried, pouring a bit of red paint on the ground around them to simulate spilled blood. "The serpent coils around the hero, trying to crush him!"

Billy began spinning around Tommy, holding the hose as if it were the serpent’s body.

Wanda appeared at the garden door, crossing her arms and observing the scene with a mix of curiosity and incredulity. She remained in the shade of a tree near the garden, where the boys laughed and ran around you, completely immersed in the mythological battle reenactment. The sound of their laughter filled the air, a melody that warmed something deep in her chest. She rarely saw them so happy, so at ease with anyone other than herself.

Her gaze shifted to you. It wasn’t just how the boys responded to your presence that fascinated her but the energy you radiated. There was passion in your gestures, a genuine joy that seemed to infect everything around you.

And then, she noticed.

The sprinkler’s water had soaked your clothes. Your white blouse clung to your skin, outlining the curves of your breasts. Your hardened nipples were visible through the thin fabric. A drop of water slid from your chin to your neck, tracing a slow path that disappeared beneath the wet cloth. Your hair, plastered to your face and shoulders, dripped and gleamed under the afternoon sun.

Wanda swallowed hard, trying to look away. But it was impossible. Something about the scene left her… unsettled. It wasn’t just the sight of your body; it was the way you laughed so freely, as if nothing else existed but that moment.

Wanda wanted... She wanted...

“Are you okay, Mom?” Billy asked, running over to her, still holding the hose.

Wanda quickly composed herself, putting on a smile. “Yes, sweetheart. I’m just enjoying the show.”

He grinned and ran back to the “battlefield,” where you were now pretending to be a Norse dragon attacking Thor.

Wanda sighed, crossing her arms. She needed to remember she was in control. But in that moment, watching you and the boys, she wasn’t so sure that was still true.

“You’re all soaked,” she commented, raising an eyebrow.

“And that’s half the fun!” you replied, laughing as more water sprayed around. “Besides, we’re recreating history. Isn’t it amazing?”

“If this is history, I want to learn more!” Billy shouted, laughing as he tried to escape Tommy.

“Thor wins the battle,” you announced dramatically, pointing at Tommy. “But the serpent’s venom is powerful. He takes one last step and… collapses!”

Tommy pretended to faint on the ground, laughing the entire time.

Wanda shook her head, but there was a smile on her face. “I never thought teaching mythology could be so... wet.”

You shrugged, still smiling. “That’s how you learn, Wanda—with fun and, apparently, a little chaos.”

“Just don’t forget, chaos is my specialty,” she replied, her smile turning a little more mischievous.

And for a moment, you felt like you were part of that small, unlikely family.

[...]

When you entered the house, the energy felt different. The boys' laughter still echoed in your ears, but something in the air had shifted. Wanda stood near the door, her eyes fixed on you with an intensity that was hard to ignore. She leaned slightly, her posture elegant, her gaze locked on you as if studying your every move.

“Boys,” she said firmly, “bath time.”

They groaned for a moment but quickly ran upstairs. Wanda remained there, watching them go before turning her attention back to you.

“You’re soaked. Do you want to change?” she asked, her voice soft but tinged with something you couldn’t quite identify.

You swallowed hard, feeling your heart race. “Yes, please.”

She gestured vaguely toward the hallway. “The bathroom is in my room. There’s a clean shirt in the drawer if you want to use it.”

A sudden nervousness swept over you. This wasn’t what you expected. Her bathroom? It made everything feel… personal. A palpable tension settled between the two of you.

“Thank you,” you murmured, trying to sound casual but feeling the heat rising to your face. You turned and began walking toward her bedroom, your heart pounding faster with each step.

Once inside the bathroom, you shut the door with a deep sigh. The sound of the shower water starting seemed amplified, as if every drop marked the rhythm of your nerves. Slowly, you undressed, the tension in your body increasing as you imagined Wanda outside, still watching you somehow.

The warm water couldn’t entirely wash away the unease gripping you. As you lathered up, your thoughts wandered to the possibilities. You knew Wanda was intense, but that simple gesture—offering her bathroom, her shirt—felt loaded with a significance you weren’t prepared to handle.

You hurried through your shower, trying to shake off the insecurities and focus on the moment. But when you stepped out, you felt even more anxious than before. Her shirt was far too big, the soft fabric clinging to your body in an uncomfortably intimate way. Every small movement, every breath seemed amplified in the quiet room.

You were alone, yet you didn’t feel truly alone. The sensation of being watched, even without Wanda there, lingered. Her aura seemed imprinted on the space, almost suffocating.

As you looked around the room, you noticed her meticulously made bed, the pristine white sheets that looked expensive. Your heart tightened at the thought that it wasn’t you sleeping beside her every night. On the right side of the bed—Wanda’s side, you assumed—there was a book on the nightstand. Curious, you picked it up. But the sound of the door opening startled you, and the book slipped from your hands.

“What did I say about snooping?” The redhead entered the room, crossing her arms beneath her chest, making them seem slightly fuller. There was a mix of irritation and amusement in her gaze.

You glanced at the book’s cover one last time before handing it to Wanda. “Jane Austen is a great writer. I like historical romance too.”

Wanda raised an eyebrow, taking the book from her hands with an expression that suggested she was evaluating her intentions. “‘I have many flaws, but not in understanding, I hope. As for my temper, I can’t guarantee it’s very good. I believe it’s a little too harsh for the world’s conveniences. I can’t forget the madness and vices of others as quickly as I should. Nor the offenses they make against me. My feelings don’t flare up with the slightest effort or attempt. My temperament could be called resentful. Once the good opinion I have of a person is lost, it’s lost forever.’”

You were impressed as she recited Darcy effortlessly. It was so quirky! She must have read it countless times.

A delighted smile formed on her lips. “‘This is truly a flaw,’” you began theatrically. “‘Relentless resentment is a trait that marks a character. You’ve chosen your flaw well. In fact, I can’t laugh at it. There’s no need to be afraid of me.’”

“‘I believe that in every temperament, there’s a tendency toward a particular form of evil, a natural vice that even the best education can’t extinguish.’” Wanda pressed her lips together, but there was a spark of amusement in her eyes. She suddenly laughed at your expression, which had become grumpy.

"And your flaw is a tendency to threaten to shoot red power balls at everyone, I imagine," you shot back, just as if you were talking about real life.

"Ah, and yours is irritating everyone with that sharp tongue of yours. I believe that applies perfectly here, by the end of the conversation."

You clicked your tongue before moving closer to her. "No... Darcy was a bit detestable at first. You're more like Katherine from The Taming of the Shrew." Your tone was mocking, but your voice had grown lower, almost intimate.

It’s funny how natural it is that your flirtations and jabs turned into shared literary tastes. Classics are always welcome at the worst of times, and just by Wanda’s deadly gaze, she certainly knows who Katherine is.

Wanda raised an eyebrow, her gaze sharp as a blade. "And I suppose you’re the stubborn beast of Petruchio, aren't you?"

You laughed, closing the distance between you. The heat radiating from her skin was intoxicating. "I don't usually cast myself as the male part of any story, but since you made the comparison... Katherine ends up tamed and married to Petruchio." Your insinuation made Wanda lick her lips, a visible attempt to contain her growing irritation.

"Are you implying you can tame me? As if I were some wild creature?" Wanda stepped forward, and you realized you were about to cross an important line.

You studied her face, every detail—the furrow between her brows, her clenched jaw. She was beautiful, furious, and captivating. Your heart raced, and the desire to kiss her became almost unbearable.

"Not a wild creature, but you can certainly be tamed." Your tone was full of provocation, but the intensity in your eyes betrayed something else.

The pressure in the room intensified, and Wanda’s control shattered. Her powers began to manifest; a faint red glow appeared in her eyes, and objects around you started to levitate slowly. The air grew heavier, charged with tension and raw magic.

"I’d kill you right now if I could," Wanda growled, her voice low and threatening, but her eyes gleamed with something deeper—a conflict between anger and desire.

The fuse. The pulse between your legs was about to drive you crazy. You smiled, a wicked grin full of desire.

"Well, lucky for you, you can't." With a swift movement, you pulled her neck, thrusting your tongue into her mouth. Wanda moaned against your lips, a sound that reverberated through you like an electric shock.

At first, she resisted. Her lips were tense, her body rigid. But then, control shattered completely. Wanda surrendered to the kiss with an almost desperate ferocity, her hands grabbing your hair, pulling you closer.

Objects around you continued to float, creating a chaotic spectacle in the room. But neither of you seemed to care. All that existed was the heat, the touch, the taste of each other.

She pulled you by the hair, seeing her from above—so powerful, it couldn’t be more exciting.

"You’re so unbearable..." She murmured, her lower lip trapped between her teeth.

"Oh, come on! You don’t know the reputation you have at the university?" You shot back, giving her a provocative smile. Wanda's eyes shone wild, and she yanked your hair again, pulling your neck along.

"Say it." She demanded, biting the curve of your ear.

"They say you like this." Your voice came out broken by the small bites Wanda was placing on your neck.

"Like what, dekta?" Her veiny hands caressed your body with lust, and it made your head spin.

"You—"

She interrupted you with a hard bite to your shoulder—it was clear she was taking out her anger on you.

"That I like little girls with a clever mouth? Who like to challenge me so I can break every last bit of their confidence?" The woman bit your breast, still covered by fabric. "Oh, darling. They couldn’t be more right."

And then, there, under Wanda’s command — you understood.

She did it all the time. She diminished you, devalued you on purpose. It didn’t matter how flawless your work was; Wanda always found a way to belittle it, to clip your wings before you could fly. Every sharp remark, every gaze that seemed to pierce through your soul, was carefully calculated to chip away at your confidence. She humiliated you, intimidated you…

And in some twisted way, it aroused you more than you cared to admit.

Never before had you been the object of such specific, visceral attention. It was wrong — you knew that. But the intensity in her gaze, the way she deliberately kept you under her control, stirred something deep within you.

It was a power game — cruel, immoral — yet irresistibly magnetic. And you couldn’t look away.

Wanda tugged harder on your hair, forcing your legs to give out from the pain. "Shh... Don’t fight, darling," she whispered against your lips. "Kneel. Know your place."

Your knees hit the floor, and all you could see was the victorious smile on her face.

"Right beneath me," she murmured. "With those doe-like, pleading eyes." She exhaled deeply, as if she’d been holding her breath for too long.

She stepped back, leaving you staring at the floor alone. The only sound was the soft tapping of her footsteps on the wooden floor and the lingering warmth of her power that filled the room.

When you lifted your head, determined to face her, the sight before you was nothing short of glorious — Wanda seated in a green armchair by the window overlooking the neighborhood. She looked majestic, glowing with a scarlet aura, making it impossible not to submit.

This wasn’t just Wanda Maximoff. This was The Scarlet Witch.

Your mouth went dry. Even without experience, you knew what you wanted — what you needed. But Wanda seemed to know more than you did, because her smug smile only made your core pulse with need. The rhythm of her crossed legs swaying ever so slightly seemed to call to you.

“Crawl.”

The witch’s harsh command struck you, and adrenaline surged through your veins, making you tremble. “Crawl to me, pet, and I’ll spare you.”

A witch like Wanda possessed countless abilities, infinite powers. Yet, as she watched you crawl toward her, Wanda understood the true meaning of power.

It was a feeling that transcended magic, surpassing the control she wielded over the world around her. It was deeper, more primal. The witch within her wanted to claim everything — her space, her pain, her vengeance. But most of all, she wanted to claim you.

When you stopped at her feet, Wanda tilted her head as if examining an unfinished masterpiece. Her hand slid to your face, her touch gentler than she had intended. Her fingers traced the curve of your jaw, trembling slightly when they reached your chin.

Her voice was low but commanding. There was no room for doubt. It wasn’t a request; it was a demand. Her eyes glowed intensely, the energy around her flickering like a halo of power.

She uncrossed her legs with an almost feline grace, letting her bare foot rest on the floor as she leaned back comfortably in the green chair. Every movement she made was imbued with natural sensuality, as if she was born to be worshipped.

“Let’s see if your instincts are as sharp as your tongue,” she teased, a slight smirk on her lips, fully aware you were ensnared in her spell.

You hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest. Wanda seemed untouchable — like a goddess carved in marble. Strong, imposing, unreachable — and yet, all you wanted was to kneel before her.

Shame and desire blended together. You were desperate to please her, to be worthy of being at her feet.

“I’m waiting,” Wanda arched a brow, her tone impatient. “Or are you all talk? Prove you can do more than provoke.”

Your breath grew heavier as your knees touched the floor once more. Her words echoed like a commandment. Prove yourself. Show her you understand. That she is everything.

Your eyes locked on the delicate curve of her ankle, the bones shifting subtly beneath her pale skin. Her foot was perfect, every detail made to be adored.

Your mouth went dry, but the primal desire rising within you overwhelmed everything else.

Slowly, you tilted your head, never breaking eye contact with Wanda. The world seemed to stop. Nothing else mattered except this moment, the connection between the two of you.

“Good girl,” Wanda’s voice came as a rare praise, sending a shiver down your spine.

You didn’t know if she was using magic or if it was simply the power she had over you, but you felt as though you were under a spell. Every movement you made was guided by an ancient instinct — a desire to worship, to surrender completely.

Your lips brushed against the top of her foot, and Wanda let out a satisfied sigh. The tension in the air shifted, replaced by something more intimate. More profound.

“Keep going.”

You obeyed without hesitation, tracing kisses along the arch of her foot. Your trembling fingers barely dared to touch her. Wanda was more than human. She was pure power, and you felt every particle of it.

Wanda’s eyes closed for a brief moment, her lips parting in a silent sigh. When she looked back at you, there was something softer in her gaze. Admiration? Satisfaction? Perhaps even… affection.

“See how easy that is?” Her voice remained firm, but there was a tenderness hidden within her words. “My little pet knows exactly where she belongs, doesn’t she?”

You nodded, never breaking eye contact.

“Say it.”

Your voice trembled, but it carried truth. “At your feet.”

Wanda’s smile widened, not with arrogance, but with contentment.

“Good girl.”

Then she leaned down just enough to capture your mouth in a bruising kiss, drawing a moan of satisfaction from both of you.

“Mommy should give you your reward now, shouldn’t she?”

Then there was that damned M word that made your belly contract. You squirmed at how hard it was for you to hold back, so you sought some relief in the friction of your own thighs.

Wanda opened herself to you like a flower, and at that moment you discovered that the older woman was not wearing panties, making her bittersweet scent rise to you, making your salivate.

“Do you want it, pet?” She asked, lifting her hips a little so you could see better and you felt like you might faint.

“Please, please…” You found yourself in an endless loop of begging, which made Wanda smile as she panted in lust.

“Such a good girl… She learned so quickly to beg for mommy’s pussy.” She stroked your chin, so gently that you rubbed against her hand like a cat seeking affection from its owner.

“Come, pet. Take it all.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Giving a big lick with the base of your tongue just to taste it, you hear her take a deep breath, relaxing into the upholstery. Her scent suffocating you and making your eyes roll back.

Letting out a ragged sigh as her warm, soft tongue licked your most intimate juncture, flooding Wanda's senses with intense pleasure. Wanda grips your hair between her fingers, forcing you to look at her.

"Eyes on me, baby girl."

She grinds her hips up involuntarily, seeking more of that skillful, soapy attention. You continue with small kitten licks, leaving Wanda a little trembling with anticipation on top of you. When you move your tongue in large, lazy circles, Wanda moans—encouraging you to push your mouth even further against her pussy.

"Ugh, yes… just like that…"

For Wanda, this was just the beginning. The sordid things she would do to you… Your stupid, naughty little girl mind could not even imagine. The excitement isn't just in the act. In fact, it never was. Everything she imagined since she laid eyes on you. Everything. It was already underway.

Your little face between her legs only proves it.

“Fuck, you're good… so good for your mommy.”

Wanda's moans leave you senseless, her praises blur your mind and you feel like you need a lot more of this. Your mouth moves away from the woman's clit to leave small wet kisses on her thigh.

The witch's eyes glow red with a fierce and predatory glow, the hunger burning stronger than ever.

“Don't tease me, stupid little slut…” Wanda says through gritted teeth, making you moan at the insult. “Get back to work and show me what a talented little pussy-sucker you can be…”

A feral growl rumbles in your chest, her teasing… leaving you with a wild desire to be good for her, to please her more than anything.

“Now, suck my clit like the eager little slut I know you are…”

You can only obey the witch’s request. Pushing your mouth even further against her pussy, it’s when you scrape your teeth against the woman’s clit that you hear her howl—pain and pleasure. A raw, guttural scream leaves Wanda’s throat as you tease her sensitive, swollen bud with just the right amount of pressure and force.

“Uuuunghhhh, God…!” She grinds her hips against your insistent mouth, seeking more of the sharp, exquisite sensation.

“Don’t stop, don’t you dare stop, fuck! I’m going to kill you!” Her fingers fist in your hair, tugging mercilessly as she rides your tongue with wild abandon.

The scarlet red all over the room, the incandescent, magical glow boiling on your skin. “You’re going to make me cum, naughty girl, just like that… Mommy’s little young slut is going to make her cum… Right there, yes!” The witch’s back arches off the chair, her entire being centered on the intense, violent pleasure radiating from her core.

You feel everything around you literally spin. Glancing out of the corner of your eye, you see the bed floating across the room, hitting the ceiling—it’s mind-boggling.

“OH FUCK, OH FUCK, FUCK, DO IT, PET!”

The words dissolve into raw, wild sounds as her climax overtakes her, waves of ecstasy crashing over her in a relentless torrent.

You feel the older woman’s legs tremble above you. Your ego soaring, you don’t even notice the woman’s still red eyes above you. As your orgasm subsides, Wanda notices your awestruck gaze, still transfixed by the spectral, crimson display of the displaced objects.

“Yeah, kind of like that…” She smiles teasingly, watching your lips wet with her pleasure.

Wanda pulls you by the back of your neck, clashing your lips in a fight that she would clearly win.

"Mommy isn't done with you yet, honey…" she murmurs like a solemn promise.

"Mommy…" You say softly, still mesmerized by her and still kneeling.

Something about how you say it makes Wanda savor the word. "Say it again." She commands, looking into your eyes.

"Mommy." You repeat, now more confident.

The older woman hums in approval and gets up from the chair, her legs still a little shaky from the recent orgasm.

She throws you on top of her king-size bed and walks over to you with superhuman eyes.

"Mommy is dying to take what is rightfully hers."

She climbs on top of you, taking off the blouse that covers you and making obscene movements on top of your jeans.

"Nobody touched here, did they, honey? You didn't let anyone touch that tight pussy, did you?"

You gasped and denied it vehemently. The words coming out of the woman's mouth were making you dumb.

"No… I'm a virgin."

You say and feel the woman's wicked smile on the curve of your neck.

"Of course you are. You're made for me… such a good girl waiting for me."

The woman's lips traveled the length of your neck, giving you goosebumps. Wanda's hands trembled with restraint as she stared at your soft skin, the delicate folds and tempting curves yet to be savored. With a deft movement, she undoes your shorts, dragging the jeans down your thighs while her gaze remains fixed on the flesh that awaits her.

"Mommy will use all your holes until you become a perfect, dumb whore for her," she said with her nails digging into your waist, leaving half-moon marks. "You're perfect…" in her eyes there was adoration for you and nothing else.

The words left Wanda’s mouth in a reverent whisper, almost as if they were a secret reserved only for you. Her eyes glowed, but not with the power you knew so well—not with that menacing red glow. No. Now, they were a deep, warm sea, filled with adoration.

The way she looked at you, even with you beneath her, made your heart race and your skin tingle. There was nothing but devotion in her gaze, as if you were the most precious thing she had ever touched.

Her fingers, strong and steady, slid over your body with care and possession, as if she were committing every curve of yours to memory. You let out a needy moan, unable to contain the wave of desire her words stirred within you. There was something intoxicating about being so vulnerable, so surrendered, and yet somehow feeling in control.

“Look at me,” Wanda murmured, her voice low but full of command. Your eyes didn’t waver for a second. You obeyed, lifting your gaze to meet hers. And there it was—the intensity was almost overwhelming, a kind of fervor that made her legs tremble. There was something so raw about that moment, as if she were seeing into the most hidden parts of his soul and yet choosing to love each and every one of them.

“You have no idea…” Wanda continued, her lips brushing his skin, her breath hot against his neck. “How you make me feel. Powerful. Invincible.”

Even in her submissive position, something in you blossomed under that gaze. Her power felt like an embrace, firm and unshakable, but never cruel. You were exposed, defenseless, but you had never felt so protected.

“You will learn to crave my touch, my presence, as deeply as I crave you. Your perfect, submissive little body belongs to me now. I will mold you, transform you into the most obedient, desperate slut imaginable… and you will beg for the chance to serve me.”

Wanda’s lips brushed the shell of your ear, her hot breath sending shivers down your spine. Each whispered word carried a weight that made your body tremble, not from fear, but from pure anticipation.

“You will be the best toy a witch like me has ever had…” Her voice was a mix of desire and threat, like poisoned honey that you couldn’t resist. “And I will never let you go.”

Her tone was possessive, each syllable carefully loaded with intent. Wanda’s hands slid down your ribs, her fingers pressing lightly against your skin as if she were marking her territory.

“I’m going to tease you until you beg for release,” she continued, her tongue lightly brushing your earlobe, making an involuntary moan escape your lips. “And even then… maybe I won’t give you what you want. Maybe I’ll just stay here…” She slid her lips to your neck, where she placed a hot, slow kiss. “Watching you writhe, completely at my mercy.”

Your breathing quickened, and you felt the muscles in your body tighten. Her heat was almost overwhelming, and the way she spoke—so confident, so in control—made your mind spin with a mix of anxiety and excitement.

“Then I’m going to tie you up, blindfold you,” she murmured, her teeth scraping lightly against your skin. “And leave you waiting. With no idea what I’m going to do next. Every second a delicious torture… until you learn there’s no escape.” That you are mine, completely.”

Your heart was pounding, your head spinning with the intensity of her words. Her hands slowly moved up his back, firm and possessive, as she planted another kiss on your shoulder. “You like that, don’t you?” Wanda asked, her voice a dark melody. “You like knowing that even when I’m cruel, it’s still for you. That everything I do is so you’ll never forget… who you belong to.”

You bit your lip, instinctively moistening it. Your head fell back slightly, your eyes half-closed as you tried to form words, but nothing coherent came out.

“Answer me, dekta,” Wanda ordered softly, her hand now cupping your chin so you looked her straight in the eye. “Or I might have to teach you what happens when little girls disobey their mommies.”

Wanda’s tone was seductive and cruel, the veiled threat in her voice as intoxicating as the firmness with which she held your face. You felt a deep shiver run down your spine, each word like an electric current that lit up every nerve in your body.

Your body trembled, not from fear, but from an anticipation so overwhelming that you could barely breathe. Your heart pounded, your mind flooded with a mixture of shame and desire. Her power over you was absolute, and in that moment, everything in you screamed for submission.

“Mommy…” you murmured, the word slipping out almost without thinking, your voice shaky and choked by the tension Wanda was creating around you.

Your eyes were glazed over, as if you were in a trance, completely at the mercy of that overwhelming presence.

Wanda smiled, an arrogant, cruel smile, but undeniably beautiful. She tilted her head, her eyes shining with something that seemed like pure satisfaction.

“Look at you,” she said softly, but the firmness in her voice made every muscle in your body tense in response. “You can’t even think, can you, my little whore?”

Your body trembled in anticipation, her every word like an invisible rope tightening around you. You knew Wanda was dangerous, but at that moment, the only thing you could think about was how much you wanted to find out how far she was willing to go.

The throbbing between your legs was mind-blowing, you needed to relieve yourself urgently. But before you could rub yourself against your own thighs, Wanda stopped you.

“You’re already so wet, you filthy girl. Can’t resist the thrill of pleasing Mommy, can you?” she purrs, her free hand sliding down to cup the juncture between your thighs, rubbing in firm, possessive circles. She places her knee against your pussy, causing a delicious, excruciating pressure. “I bet you can come like this. Rubbing yourself against my knee like a bitch in heat, can’t you?”

You respond with a long moan, your tongue lolling out, the intense pressure and tantalizing sensation of her knee against your hypersensitive folds making you whimper and buck in helpless need, your own hips instinctively moving to grind against the unyielding obstruction.

“That’s it, dirty slut… Let Mommy see how much you want to come. Rub yourself against my leg like the desperate little slut you are.”

“Want to come like this?” She asks, making you whimper. Thinking about anything was too difficult. Maybe you should let her take control of everything. "I asked you a question!"

You gasp when you feel the woman slap your left cheek. "Wanda, I want… more!" You manage to finish with difficulty.

"Who?" She asks, forcing her knee deeper into your entrance, making you cry out.

"Mommy!" You correct yourself, humming in approval.

"There's my good girl." She praises you, "What do you want, darling?" Wanda makes circular movements with her tongue on your nipples, hard as rocks. "My mouth. My fingers. My cock." Hearing her, you whimper.

"Oh. Fuck…" You gasp loudly.

"Greedy little girl… You want all of these, don't you?"

As if summoned by Wanda's wicked touch and piercing gaze, your fantasies take on a life of their own, your mind feverish with desire. You need it all—every hungry bite, every deep, devastating thrust, every stroke of a masterful hand across your skin.

The sheer intensity of your need consumes you, leaving nothing but desperation, longing, pleading in its wake. “Yes, Mommy,” you finally confess in a breathless whisper, “I need it all. I need you in every way imaginable.” With a low, triumphant growl, Wanda surges forward, her skilled fingers delving between those slick, panting thighs once more.

She teases and claws at you, building the pressure to a fever pitch even as her lips and tongue continue their relentless assault on your sensitive peaks.

“Such a greedy little sex toy,” the older woman murmurs against the quivering flesh, her voice a husky, wicked caress. “Ready to take it all like the perfect slut you were born to be.”

Upon reaching your pussy, Wanda sucks on your outer lips—extracting the sweet honey. The woman’s expert tongue swirls over your clit, making you gasp. You tense and writhe under Wanda’s relentless assault, the wicked witch’s tongue teasing, tasting, claiming every last drop of your offering.

Your soaked, throbbing folds pulse in rhythm with each skillful, searching stroke, the desperate need building to a fever pitch within your core.

“Oh, shit, oh shit, oh fuck—” Your voice cracks, a harsh, pleading moan that reflects the wild, aching desire coursing through your veins. You grind shamelessly against Wanda’s mouth, lost in the overwhelming tsunami of sensation, the relentless drive for release.

“Please, Wanda. I need you—I want you—” you choke in pleasure, feeling yourself teetering on the edge of the abyss of pleasure.

With a naughty giggle, Wanda replaces her mouth with her fingers, alternating between your clit and your hot entrance. “You’re so close already, aren’t you? All that stimulation Mommy gave you was too much, wasn’t it?” She said, as she rested her chin on top of your mons venus—watching you with burning eyes.

“…So close, please! I feel so good. So good to you, I—” The tears in the corners of your eyes indicate how strong an orgasm you will have.

With a sly smile, Wanda responds, her expert fingers curling and stroking that sensitive, throbbing bundle of nerves in deliberate, unyielding circles.

“Come for me, pet,” she purrs darkly against the quivering flesh, “Give me all that sweet, dripping honey. Show Mommy how well-trained a little sex toy like you can be…” The cruel, relentless pleasure builds and builds until your mind goes blank.

As your orgasm hits, you feel a sharp pain between your legs—and for some reason, the mixture of mild pain and intense pleasure increases the throbbing in your belly even more.

“Fuuuck me!!!” The raw, primal sound of ecstasy as your sensitive, tingling flesh shudders and contracts around the older woman’s hand. Your hips buck violently, lost in the tormenting ecstasy of surrender, of release.

In the stormy haze of your climax, a fleeting agony sparks through the velvety softness of your sex—a burning, stinging sensation that for just a moment eclipses the thunderous ecstasy. Yet in the next heartbeat, the exquisite wave of pleasure returns, even more intense, taking you even higher. You were going to come again, and Wanda knew it.

“Yeahhhhh… So tight, my stupid whore,” Wanda’s voice is a seductive growl, a dark promise in every word. "Like this. Take it all, let me have it all…" Her fingers move faster, hitting the spongy spot inside you.

"Are you going to cum again?" the wicked witch asked, thrusting harder. "Are you going to cum with Mommy's little finger in you? Are you going to make a mess of your Mommy's bed?"

"YESSSSS!!!! OH FUUUUUCKKKKKK Mommy, Mommy! "I'M GONNA-C--" Your screams are abruptly cut off as a new burst of intense, shuddering ecstasy rips through your very being.

In that fleeting instant of total surrender, your senses blur into a sea of ​​sensations - the stinging, relentless pleasure, the dark, possessive hunger in Wanda's eyes, the intimate, slippery thrill of possession. Every nerve ending, every synapse is alight with the desire to be filled, to be used, to be claimed… to surrender completely to the relentless, insatiable desire that has ensnared you.

With your breathing quickened and your body trembling, you couldn't speak or move—all you could do was cry and let out all the emotion pent up in your chest.

Wanda noticed the tears rolling down your face before you did. At first, an expression of concern formed in her eyes, replaced by a deep affection that softened you completely. With surprising care, considering the intensity she had shown minutes before, she leaned over you, her fingers still black with power—shakingly wiping away the salty drops that ran down your cheeks.

"Hey, dekta…" her voice was low, sweet, almost a melody. "Are you okay? Talk to me."

You tried to open your mouth, but no sound came out. Still, Wanda seemed to understand. She lay down next to you, wrapping you in her arms with a warmth that was not only physical, but almost magical. Her fingers traced soft patterns on your skin as she whispered words of comfort.

"Shh… it's okay. I'm here. It was all too much for you, wasn't it, pretty girl?"

She ran her hand through your hair, her eyes fixed on you with a kind of reverence that seemed almost sacred. There was no rush, just a constant care and tenderness that seemed to embrace all the broken pieces you didn't even know you carried.

“You’re so precious to me,” Wanda murmured, more to herself than to you. “I would face armies for you. Ask for anything, and I’ll give it to you, my little one.” The witch kissed the top of your head, feeling her own heart swell with something she couldn’t quite name.

Your chest tightened at her words, and a soft sob escaped your lips as a sense of safety unlike anything you’d ever known washed over you. She leaned down to press a slow, deliberate kiss to your forehead, as though wanting to carve the moment into her memory.

“You don’t need to understand it now, but what I feel for you… it’s greater than anything I’ve ever known.” Her eyes gleamed with something that danced between love and possessiveness, though it didn’t make her any less careful or tender.

She pulled the blanket over both of you, wrapping you tighter against her. “Cry as much as you need, my girl. I’m here. I will always be here.”

That moment was more than comfort; it was a vow. A silent promise that Wanda seemed determined to keep, no matter the cost.

Wanda Maximoff, the Scarlet Witch, was pure, raw power—a storm incarnate, capable of reshaping the very fabric of reality with a simple gesture. In battle, she was wild, relentless, a hurricane of might no one dared to defy. But with you… it was different.

You were the key to a side of her she never believed could exist—a side that longed for more than destruction and control. A side that wanted to feel and be felt, to be seen and understood. You were the doorway to her own humanity, a part of herself she’d almost forgotten was there.

There was something about you that dismantled all her carefully constructed defenses, disarming her in a way no external force ever could. And it infuriated her. It terrified her. But it also made her crave you with a primal, almost desperate intensity.

She was hard, unyielding—always would be. But with you, she’d discovered what it meant to be vulnerable. Your touch, your gaze, your unwavering trust in her were like a key turning in the rusted gears of a hardened heart.

As she held your face between her hands, still trembling from the ecstasy only she could give you, Wanda realized that no matter how brutal or wild she was, you were the only being in the universe capable of turning her into something more than chaos and destruction.

And that made her want to protect you more than anything else. To shield you from pain, from the world, even from herself—but never to let you go. Because, in the end, you weren’t just the key to who Wanda could be.

You were her destiny, as certain as the power burning through her veins. And she would never let another life, another universe, tear you apart again.

Even with your eyes closed, you felt Wanda’s every word like the notes of an ancient melody, echoing inside you. Her moans, rough and filled with intensity—still playing in a loop in your mind—were more than sounds; they were verses of a visceral poem that seemed to envelop and consume you slowly.

Every sigh carried a secret. Every whisper felt like a hidden promise. And every sound that escaped her lips was a spell, binding you deeper into an abyss where pleasure and devotion intertwined.

It was as if Wanda was composing something eternal—a song only the two of you could hear and understand. And you? You were the sheet music, the instrument, the meaning behind every line and verse.

In that instant, lost between her words and the overwhelming intensity of the moment, you realized you had surrendered more than just your body.

Your soul, with all its scars and longings, had been written by Wanda. And her words—sweet, fierce, and insatiable—would be etched into you as the most beautiful, cruel poetry you’d ever know.

~*~

and yes, it was too much for you.

Tag list <3

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @trindad2k

@indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher

@idkwhatever580

@reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good

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[natsuminmin]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆ 500 MILLION HOURS -> ushijima wakatoshi !!!

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ alexandra by reality club

synopsis; in which ushijima slowly realizes he's grown fond of the unexpected, as long as it was in the shape of you cw: fluff/slight angst (?), yearning obvi , ushi doesnt what to make of his feelings , pre!timeskip, unproofread + lowercase, can be interpreted as gn! , self-indulgent , ooc grr... (lmk if i forget something!!!)

"on a park bench, under the moon"

ushijima shouldn't have cared that much.

it was just a hug...right? it didn't mean anything?

enough, he wont torture himself with this. human emotions weren't exactly his strongest suit. he should just stick to volleyball.

but why did he feel his heart race when he looked down at you, with your arms wrapped around him? you who he towered over so easily? one look in your eyes and he found it hard to fight his irrational urge to pick you up and cradle you close to his body. excuse me...where did that even come from?

he cleared his throat to clear his mind, his gravelly voice filling the air.

"you're being clingy right now." yep, that was ushijima. blunt and concise as always. he saw you pull away with a huff, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of regret, maybe. he couldn't tell, all he knew was that he might've wanted your embrace around him for a second longer. his thoughts stopped swirling when you cut through it with your voice, something he always compared to the melodic tunes of a windchime, even as you used it to get sarcastic with him. he never did really get your humor.

"well, you should be used to it. we've been friends for forever."

"it's only been 5 years. besides, we'd both die before we become 'friends for forever.'"

you groaned at him with indignation, did he always have to take things so literally? it was only an exaggeration....you resumed your earlier pace, returning into a stride as you remembered why you were out so late at night anyway.

popsicles were far too good...it was a hot midnight and you craved some after being woken up to a dream of it. naturally, you texted him first. and here you were, sneaking out of the dorms as the both of you walked to the convenience store. you don't know how you managed to convince him to go with you. you didn't even notice how quickly his reply had sent, as if he was waiting for hours to hear from you.

just as you began to retort, he suddenly spoke and clashed with your own words:

"well-"

"you've never hugged me this much."

you cut yourself off to let him finish speaking. the both of you walk in the tranquility of night for a second, as if trying to let that awkward moment float away in the soft breeze.

what? why were you looking at him in that way? he was just being honest....you know he's always been blunt. you wouldn't judge him, would you? he was relieved when you broke the silence, letting out a soft breath. why was he so worried if he weirded you out? it's not like he expected you to run back to your dorm and leave him alone with a broken heart. nope, not at all.

"is it a crime to want to hug a friend? brighten up sometimes, ushi."

before he could say that he was not a flashlight therefore he could not brighten up, and that it was never a crime to touch someone unless it was to an extreme, you shushed him; as if you almost knew what he was going to say already. which you probably did...god, why did that make his heart squeeze?

"a-ba-bah-bah, don't say anything. let's just buy the popsicles.

─── ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ───

he found himself sitting at a park bench beside you, who was noisily slurping up the popsicles you had purchased and was obviously annoyed that it had melted that quickly. well, that's what popsicles usually did in the heat, after all

your beauty was simply divine, even when you were making the silliest faces as you tried to catch the juice that dripped down the popsicle stick. he thought you could rival even the goddess' when he saw the moonlight bounce off your eyes, making it sparkle more so than it usually did.

he noticed that you downed both of the popsicles immediately, leaving you with two plain sticks. he watched you stare at them for a while, before tucking it under your lips to create makeshift fangs.

"i'm dracula, bleh bleh blegh"

then you doubled over laughing at the joke (?) you made, he presumed. he was not getting any better at this.

he doesn't understand you.

he hates it. hates not knowing what you'll do next.

strangely enough, it's what draws him to you. he wants to analyze you. he wants to laugh at your jokes. he wants to know how you wanted to be loved. he wants to learn every single nook and cranny that created the outline of you.

he's aware volleyball was all he's ever mastered.

but you....you make him feel emotions that he didn't know he was possible of feeling. like he could dive in choppy waters and remain unscathed. heck, he felt cocky enough to puff up his chest and say those three special words already.

my god, if he was acting on something he barely knew about, then what was he?

oh no.

he. was. a. fool.

for you, no less.

he so badly wanted to risk your friendship and confess at that very moment, yearned to finally grasp you in his arms the way you did.

no, screw that. he wouldn't know what to do.

so he resolved to wait instead. to wait until you made the first move. to wait until you had shown reassurance that you longed for him as much as he did for you.

if only he knew what was running in your mind as you chewed absent-mindedly on your popsicle stick, then he'd know that his feelings weren't unrequited after all. all you were thinking about was your next move, you had to make it bigger and bolder, because he just wouldn't get it otherwise. the signs were all there, she , ushijima. it's a shame, really.

but whatever, he's decided that he'd spend 500 million hours waiting, dedicate all his minutes to you; in hopes that by each ticking second, you would finally find your way to your rightful place:

by his side.

"but in full view of what you are, you’re a goddess, you’re my rock star"

a/n: hahehuhiho i love basing my fics on songs sm. i remember yapping to my friend about creating this fic and said i should go for it...uu have her to thank gyus UGHH I CANT GET OVER HIM I WANNA MAKE MORE FICS WITH THIS KIND OF USHI should i make this into a 3-part fic that ends in total angst

[thewertsearch]

Ask Comp 9/1

Anonymous asked: has sally been introduced to cursed tavros yet?

[ cursed tavros jumpscare :D ]

Cursed indeed - but mind you, I don't think I could do much better. My handcraft skills are nonexistent!

Anonymous asked: ol tavvy is down with the clown ;o) Anonymous asked: Please, if you will, imagine if when Vriska kissed Tavros, he told her that he was already dating Gamzee.

Heh. I really do think Gamzee x Tavros could have worked out, at least until Gamzee lost his shit. Hell, even if Gamzee did lose his shit, he'd probably still be less of a threat to Tavros than Vriska was.

Anonymous asked: Did you notice Gamzee referenced Earth in his rap? ("6 trillion hemos all up on one rock bleeding as equals") How do you think he learned about it? Some weird pre-game precognition or just his stoned mind being accidentally right?

This isn't necessarily a reference to Earth - but it wouldn't surprise me if it was, because Gamzee's cult seems fully aware of the existence of Earth.

The 'paradise planet' referenced in Gamzee's intro is stated to not exist yet, which is exactly how the narration refereed to Earth in Hivebent's intro. I believe that the 'rowdy minstrels' he's talking about are literally ICP, although he clearly isn't aware of that fact.

@wizardlyghost asked:

A sentiment shared by Eggman, every Space Player, and the villain of Muppets Most Wanted.

Anonymous asked: Now that you've passed where fedorafreak's gray, serviceable hand-held computing device's battery has died, you might appreciate the following short piece of fan art: www tumblr com/vastderp-placeholder/7741061457/savior-of-the-texting-world-rise-up

The fucking implication that the phone is the Player in this scenario is obliterating me.

Also, its God Tier form has wings. Was it a troll all along, or are wings a symbol of divine apotheosis in phone culture, too?

@clueless-rarito asked: Heeey paranatural reference! Hell yeah!

Is anyone else totally stoked to see Eightfold again? I know I am!

Anonymous asked: bilious sick 😭

English's trick made our Bilious sick. :(

Anonymous asked: One of, if not my absolute favorite, quotes/moments in Homestuck is Karkat’s speech to Jade about his failed frog breeding here. Just such a wonderfully tragic moment that stuck with me since the first time I read it.

In a comic chock-full of great lines, that last one might just be the best so far. This was one of the last scenes before Act 5's true finale, and it was an excellent pick.

@drakethedeep asked: One theory I've heard about the Denizen's Choice that tend to headcanon, Is that the choice is to be happy/free or to matter. That much as how God-tiers only grants survival by never having an impact, the denizens have thier playes coose between seeking their happiness and survival, or to struggle to achieve things that while objevtivly monumental, might not be worth the sacrifices needed to achieve it. I like this theory because of how it themes to fit the themes of Sburb.

I really like the space you're playing in, but I'm not so sure if all the Choices we've seen would necessarily fit this interpretation. After all, Davesprite implicitly chose the 'survival' option when he first met Hephaestus, and he's not exactly a happy camper. He didn't end up particularly free, either, since he was almost immediately bound to a Sprite, and later to the Battlefield.

I guess you could say he 'mattered', because he is he reason the Alpha Timeline exists the way it does - but, technically, everyone's actions contribute to the Alpha Timeline being the way it is. I definitely think there's something to this theory.

Anonymous asked: Without the Door to actually enter the universe, all you've done is make a really big frog.

I guess, when you think about it, there's not really anything they can do with their universe without that door. I suppose they could just fly towards their frog and hope for the best, but somehow, I don't think that'll achieve much.

@morganwick asked: Of course, even though he wasn't fooled by Gamzee using Terezi's "voice", Karkat still showed up on the roof anyway. Perhaps he decided he couldn't take the risk that Terezi was actually there and Gamzee might catch her unawares.

Gamzee's been having a lot of fun 'impersonating' Terezi lately. Just like before, I don't think he ever intended to fool Karkat with his transparent ruse - he just wanted to unsettle the guy. It worked.

@morganwick asked: If Typheus is the mailman, does that make him PM's favorite Denizen?

Maybe it makes him the head of her mail service!

We never saw any other mail Carapacians, and I kind of love the idea that they were operating out of a Denizen's Palace the whole time.

@bladekindeyewear asked: You said: "Mind you, I don’t know if it’s necessarily always a good or heroic thing to allow a Sburb Player full agency over their actions, nor is it necessarily a bad thing to restrict them, in certain cases." Oh I'm completely with you there. In fact, you might DEFINE Heroism as denying agency to those who would do ill, in part. This would make both "Heroic" and "Just" deaths result from trying to stamp your own intentions upon reality, halted by others. Neutrality would be ineffectual.

That's certainly part of heroism - but to me, it's not even close to all of it. A firefighter, for example, is heroic in ways which don't involve another person, as their only real 'opponent' is nature itself.

I personally define heroism as the will to do good, in situations where doing good requires bravery. 'Good', of course, is a fairly slippery concept, though, so that definition is just as ambiguous as any other.

Anonymous asked: Doctor Who anon here. Doctor Who has no canon for purely practical reasons. It's so massive - there's the show, but there's also the Big Finish audio dramas, the DW magazine comics, the Radio Times comics, the IDW comics, the Titan comics, the Virgin novels and short stories, the BBC novels and short stories. And no one owns all of it. The BBC don't even own the daleks or K9. And each piece of media will freely contradict others. No one has the right to decide what's canon, so they just don't. It's also because the people running Doctor Who the show have a deep respect for the extended media. In the 90s, it was the non-BBC licensed, fan-led projects which kept DW alive. Russell T. Davies, first showrunner of the modern era, wrote Virgin novels, so did Mark Gatiss. Nick Briggs, modern voice of the daleks, is the head of Big Finish. So they didn't want to decanonise that stuff, but they also don't want to be beholden to it when writing their own stories. So the fanbase tends to operate on tiers of canon. Basically something can be assumed to still be part of the show's continiuity until the show contradicts it. Big Finish would generally be considered the next highest "tier" of canon. The Doctor Who magazine comics probably wouldn't contradict the show, but the show could contradict them any time. The old books and comics are dubious. But that's all just fan categorisation. Officially, nothing has been deemed canon or not. In fact, rather amusingly, the only thing that has been explicitly deemed "canon" by the BBC is the Doctor Who: Battles in Time card game. That's officially canon. Nothing else. Not even the show.

I think I've heard of 'canon tiers' before, in the context of the Star Wars fandom. I think it's a good way to delineate how 'true' a given event is considered to be, especially in a large, complex shared universe - but at the same time, being consciously aware of these tiers might hurt your investment a little.

You'll never be able to escape the fact that your favourite stories or characters are effectively fanfiction, at least from the perspective of higher tiers. They have no influence whatsoever over the more ''real'' part of the story, unless they're promoted its tier some day.

I do like the idea that all the other Doctor Who stories are fanfiction of the card game, though. That's definitely going to be my canon, from now on.

@morganwick asked: Well, back in Act 4 you said that John and Dave would make S-Tier if and when "John [threw] aside his passivity to do something heroic, and…Dave [would] finally drop that poker face and do something sincere", which is why I pegged the suicide mission conversation as when Dave might make the jump.

I think, on reflection, it's almost always a heartwarming event that catapults a character into S-Tier.

In my opinion, that's one of the most impressive feelings that a work of fiction can inspire in you, mostly because it's really hard to get you invested enough for it to hit properly. Homestuck's pulled it off an extremely impressive number of times already, and we're only halfway finished!

Anonymous asked: It is so fucking awesome to see a new reader in the year of our lord 2024 2025 who's actually like. Engaging with the themes of the story. Lotta people just see it for the memes or the "totally random" plot but some of the shit you're reading into what's happening is like. Eerily similar to actual Hussie commentary. Gold star for reading comprehension, you do not piss on the poor Anonymous asked: Your homestuck liveblogs are lovely and insightful and make me remember a lot of details of the comic that have been lost to time. You will comment on something and I'll go "oh huh homestuck was better than I remember it being." Thank you <3 @honestlyvan asked: Truly your liveblog is the best kind of re-experiencing the experience. I'm surprised at how much your thoughts and reads parallel mine, it's kind of fun to see someone else's deductions go along the same routes. I can't wait for you to get to the Truly Horseshit portions of the plot (and I say this lovingly, I think you're in a great position to give us a real raw read on them without having to deal with the various Mega and Gigapauses) Also -- you keep pointing out a shitton of foreshadowing I didn't catch until my second readthrough. I can't wait for you to get to the bits where it applies and be like "son of a bitch", I think where I'm in the reading of your backlog and where you're in the reading of the comic you've passed at least one of those bits already :D @worldweary-walker asked: The liveblog is so cool. It's a lot of fun seeing you put things together, and the posts where you come up with three completely right conclusions and two wrong ones always amaze me. Impressive work!

Thank you so much! I know I say this a lot, but a lot of these sentiments are exactly why I like reading liveblogs myself. I'm just really glad I can do that for others.

I can totally understand why someone would just read Homestuck for the memes. I wouldn't have been nearly as analytical if I'd read it as a schoolgirl, and a lot of the 2010s fandom were even younger than that!

@divineerdrick asked: Now we have multiple explanations for what is wrong with the kid's session. Vriska has made herself responsible for Jack's rise to power, Karkat believes he gave Bilious Slick cancer, and Gamzee created the harlequin doll that would torment John and prompt Jack's rage-fueled act of rebellion. You've already suspected that Doc Scratch probably has multiple plans in play at once, and we can see that here. It seems he insured, through multiple causes, the kid's universe has always been doomed. Gamzee, as usual, seems to be the wild card. But he's acting out during a crisis of faith, a faith tied to Alternia's twisted social structure, which Scratch seems to have had a hand in. So despite how random Gamzee's actions appear to be, it's possible Scratch managed to seed even this seemingly unpredictable action.

I think Scratch probably did 90% of the work in making Gamzee go ballistic, from multiple directions at once. Looking back, it's shocking just how much of the comic was Scratch's doing.

'Caused' is a loaded phrase in Paradox Space, but what's happening is definitely what he planned.

Anonymous asked: It kind of seems like Rage as an aspect is evil, no? Do you think an aspect can carry an inherent moral weight? If not, what are the neutral meanings of aspects that seem to, and if so, how do you feel about it?

Personally, I doubt that any of the Aspects have a moral alignment - not even the scary-sounding ones. After all, you can Rage against tyranny, or bring Doom to a corrupt institution. Yeah, Gamzee is using Rage for evil, but his perception-shielding could just as easily be used to hide an innocent bystander from an aggressive Underling.

I think that more or less any ability can be used for both good or evil. The only real exception would be a power that's deliberately designed to be irreparably, comically evil. 'The ability to torture everyone for all eternity' would be one of those powers, but Homestuck's Aspect abilities would not.

@worldweary-walker asked: have you read Kill Six Billion Demons?

I have not! It's on my long and constantly growing list, which means I'll get to it between now and, uh, 2096.

Anonymous asked: re: the ancestors' story. WHAT IF WE ALL JUST CRIED like. the sheer transition from inane antics to the. that @corporalotherbear asked: There's a very popular fanmade version of the sufferer's final sermon and following vast expletive, voiced by a man that would go on to be the english voice actor of Izuku Midoriya. I can't add links to asks but if it's spoiler-friendly then your vetter can probably send you "The sufferer's last sermon"

Oh, I kind of love this interpretation. It really sells just how unwinnable the Sufferer's rebellion truly was.

@wolygan asked: I forgot how she is so happy when she is running away. This Girl is still able to believe that good is coming. Except Lord English won't let that happen, no matter what. @wickedsick asked:

That was possibly the fastest you have ever been proven wrong about something

That poor girl. She suffered just as much as the Signless did, but she'll only be known to Alternia as a monster - and unlike Troll Jesus, no one will ever mourn the Handmaid.

Anonymous asked: the sufferer cult is definitely independent of the juggalos! the use of the word sectarian to describe the war waged against the signless's beliefs is not a coincidence, imo. (we also see that highblood is most often used to specifically describe purplebloods). they're just two different religious organizations. given that the grand highblood was a juggalo man/subjuggulator and occupied significant power it seems to suggest that clown religion was a Big Thing among the purplebloods, which would not truck with the signless' cult being so small and secretive. there's one theory that part of the reason the neophyte was sent on mindfang's case was bc the GHB (given that mindfang mentions the neophyte was sent by subjuggulators specifically) knew she was a secret sufferite and wanted to get rid of her. mindfang does talk about how it seemed like they were giving up on her case entirely by sending just one neophyte (granted this is partially bc she underestimated her). it would track that while they definitely wanted to get rid of mindfang, they also were fine with the neophyte dying. this also follows with the fact that after mindfang gets out of that trial, she manages to persist without being caught right up until her death at the hands of the summoner. were they happy that the neophyte got killed, enough to stop putting much effort into mindfang's capture?

I think the Highbloods probably did set Redglare up. I speculated that it was possible when we first heard about her death, and that was before we knew she was a Signless cultist.

Also: lmao, do you remember when Hussie told us that the Juggalo Cult was 'obscure'? That's starting to feel like something that was quietly retconned offscreen.

@clueless-rarito asked: In case you like to know, "Dolorosa" is meant to evoke the spanish word "Doloroso" meaning painful but changing the O for an A turn it feminine.

Dolorosa; in other words, the woman in pain.

Fucking hell, she deserved so much better. It's amazing how much bleaker the Ancestors' lives were, compared to their descendants. Modern Alternia is bad enough as it is!

@lon-kasi asked: Fanwork recommendation: The same guy who did the EoA5 reanimation just did Intermission 2 as well. Like, less than six hours before I sent this ask. It's incredible.

Yessss! These are amazing.

My favorite parts are all the extra touches that weren't in the original animation, such as Rose beginning to realizing how badly she was tricked - or Jade, unused to her own powers, almost knocking John on his ass while she teleports him.

Anonymous asked: Now that you've seen what a Reckoning on Skaia looks like, you can see why Karkat was rushing Kanaya to get their frog done. Despite jumping the gun, skipping the lore elements and just killing their way to the end, the troll kids never had enough time. Especially since, now that I'm thinking about it, if it wasn't the Reckoning then it probably would have been Jack as the "time's up, now turn in your work" event. @marinerofthestars asked: With the revelation that Alternia was built to and ended up speedrunning an Sgrub/Sburb session to catastrophic effect (great job reading this far, btw), how long would you expect a “standard” session to take?

We've got two different asks here - one saying that normal sessions are meant to be shorter than Hivebent's, and the other saying they're meant to be longer.

I honestly don't know which I believe. It feels unrealistic for a Sburb session to take months, but Scratch really did seem to be saying that the trolls were extremely effective Players, implying most sessions take longer to beat. Maybe the reboot session will clue us in a little?

Anonymous asked: “How do you expect to out run me, When I Am Already Here.” Is such a hard line, and it’s completely missable in the alt text for the site banner. I know a lot of people missed it when these panels dropped. I remember HS being considered super unique because of how much the comic messes with formatting things like that.

I was super close to missing some of that scene, even though I'd already been warned about the alt text. There was just so much going on at the time, I almost didn't think to look at the banners.

@royalvorpal asked: "I thought words would be exchanged" How do you expect them to talk when they are in person?

pffffffffffffffffffft

Alright, that one fucking got me.

@bladekindeyewear asked: "But no, apparently not, because it took Karkat zero words and sixty seconds to completely shut Gamzee down. Now, don’t get me wrong, that’s incredibly impressive - but what did he actually do?" If you look back IN RETROSPECT at some of what Gamzee has been telling Karkat, it almost looks like pale flirting, like he was actually WANTING him to do this behind his threats. p3361: "FTC: i wonder if you can all be at with me in time and make me get my reconsider on?" Anonymous asked: You may not like it, but this is what peak moirallegience looks like.

Yeah, this really does make that exchange read as a little flirtatious.

Still, is this really how a moirallegiance is meant to work? Are moirails really expected to risk their lives to halt their prospective partner's rampage? This is starting to sound more dangerous than a kismesissitude!

@bladekindeyewear asked: I'm not sure how well it applies to the revised Homestuck website and it's probably impossible in the collection, but you could view any past/future page in any CSS format the site gave you with a keyword, like the black-on-green Doc Scratch format. So when Andrew did the "SNOP" to SBAHJ-mode, he was intentionally giving us a tool to view the ENTIRE SITE in SBAHJ mode.

There's a 'theme override' button, but I need to finish Homestuck to unlock it. I guess the comic's theme will change in more spoilery ways, later on.

Anonymous asked: Dolorosa/Mindfang is the true kicker of the “vriska keeps ending up in mirror relationships to her ancestor” belief, bc its the one where there is NO way vriska could know that shes in a mirror relationship. Eridan- orphaner dualscar and mindfangs romance was in the journal. Tavros- she knew about the summoner. But while there are hints to the dolorosas identity- sharp teeth, lower blood color, and a very vague if you stretch it hint about horn shape- no way vriska could have put those pieces together!!!

Man, it's still so fucked up that the Dolorosa went out like that. I still think it's at least remotely possible that she revived as a vampire, but I'm not gonna kid myself - her story is over. We're not gonna see her.

Anonymous asked: You've mentioned "ratfic" and something called "the Methods" before, is that something you've read?

If I could write an essay about Steven Moffat, I could write an entire thesis about Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality - but it'd be radioactively critical, and it feels mean-spirited to just post a rant about something unprompted.

If people want my thoughts in detail, I might stick them on the sideblog later - but for now, I'll just tell you that if it wasn't for that fic, XAE A-12 Musk would never have been born. Not a joke.

Anonymous asked: i love the complete about face on gamzee lol. "clearly the fact that he's gone nuts is something wrong with the timeline" gamzee is revealed to be responsible for lil cal "actually fuck this guy"

If we do ever recover the original Gamzee, it's going to really suck for him to face his friends. After everything he's done, will anyone ever really trust him again?

@elkian asked: Love the Exiles. So glad nothing bad happens to them, ever, (I assume the pause before the third s175 post is bc you, like me, took a break to cry over AR hesitating to kill his friend :,(

I was so bummed, guys. Carapacians don't have ghosts, I assume - so the Exiles, sans PM and maybe WV, are gone forever.

The Red Miles will probably have obliterated their corpses, so we can't even prototype most of them - but I'm holding out hope for Waywardsprite.

Anonymous asked: heh, you aren't alone in preferring god tier dave without his hood. i was around for when cascade dropped and wasnt able to watch it straight away due to the various troubles, but one of the first things i heard about it was people talking about how stupid they thought dave's hood looked.

I know, right? Like, yeah, it definitely says 'knight', but Dave's got great hair, and it feels like a shame to cover it.

@bladekindeyewear asked: "PCG: SHE WAS CONSTANTLY FIXING MY FUCKUPS. PCG: ROBOTS FROM THE FUTURE ALWAYS COMING BACK TO TELL ME HOW SOME HASTY SHIT I DID WITH FROG BREEDING OR WHATEVER WOULD MAKE IT BE IMPOSSIBLE TO WIN. PCG: MY OWN PERSONAL MISTAKES PROBABLY ACCOUNTED FOR MORE DOOMED ARADIABOTS THAN ANYTHING ELSE." Now that the Tumor's revealed for the precision device it was, it's also clear that Aradia, likely following the Horrorterrors' instructions, FORCED them to breed the frog JUST RIGHT to create the Sun.

Yeah, the existence of that precision device really fucking threw me. Whatever it did, the frog cancer probably was deliberately engineered to cause it - and I think it was engineered by Scratch, rather than the Horrorterrors. He was also talking to Aradia during the session, and this event was key to his plan.

Anonymous asked: (And one more ask from the person without a tumblr. -DJ) The thing is, Scratch could have just said "you must create the Green Sun, it is essential for the existence of the multiverse, not doing so will create a paradox". But either he chose to trick them, by only but saying "true words", just for fun…or there is some reason telling them about their true mission wouldn't work - RM

Either is possible, and it's pretty much impossible to say. That said, the Vast Glub is proof that he does just like messing with people, so I'm going with the former answer.

Anonymous asked: (forwarding another ask from the person without a Tumblr account -DJ) Do you think there are interesting parallels between Scratch and Tarquin from OOTS? - RM

Well, they are both meta-aware villains with extremely wide-reaching plans, and they're both pretty weird about women. Hopefully this means that Scratch's much cooler son will kick his ass in a later Act.

@bladekindeyewear asked: One tiny cute detail in Cascade I love is how when the Green Sun lights up in the distance for the trolls, Terezi tries to point at it, and Karkat gently takes her arm and re-points it in the right direction. XD

Shoulda brought the Smelloscope, Terezi!

Anonymous asked: The first time i read homestuck my shit bugged out and I literally just missed the entire scrapbook section and cascade. The SECOND time I read homestuck cascade gave me such a neuron firing high that only harrow the ninth has ever gotten close to

That's exactly how to describe it. Cascade blasted my neurons, in exactly the same way that part of Harrow the Ninth did.

@rwbypro asked: Ngl one of my favorite parts about homestuck is the fact that Doc Scratch Won, like he got Exactly what he wanted, and he played everyone like fiddles, one of my all time favorite villains in anything!

He did, the bastard! Scratch managed to pull it off without a hitch.

These are the exact kind of convoluted masterstrokes you want to see in a time-travel story, and I think English's machinations will only grow more intricate, going forward.

@sanctferum asked: The juggalo cult believes in a pair of mirthful messiahs rather than just the one, so if English is one of the messiahs, that's only half the equation. Presumably, the other messiah would be Scratch.

That works! I originally thought that the Messiahs were the two members of ICP, but let's be honest, they still could be. I absolutely would not put it past this comic to reveal that Lord English was Shaggy 2 Dope the whole time.

@sanctferum asked: So now that you've seen Lord English's true appearance: he's got a peg leg, and that peg leg is a golden cuestick, filling in the last missing piece of the Felt analogy - the one that moves the billiards around in the first place. For good measure, English's peg leg, single golden tooth and his garish coat give him a stereotypical pimp appearance, which is fitting given his treatment of his female servants so far (not to mention Scratch's own treatment of both the Handmaid and whichever female player he is manipulating at any given moment. He even explicitly uses the word grooming to describe raising Handmaid!). If there was ever a pimp for Dave to lock in his own crib while dropping it like it was hot, this would be him.

Ayy, you're right! I've been waiting for the Felt's cuestick since the Intermission days!

You're also right about the comic's villains. Scratch and English aren't just screwing over female Players - they've also been fucking with Mindfang, the Handmaid, the Condesce, and even Snowman. It's absolutely a pattern.

These guys aren't just cosmic villains, they're misogynist cosmic villains. Mundane evil and supernatural evil, all together in one convenient package of shit.

Anonymous asked: Now that we've gotten past this point in the comic- I just wanted to say I forgot Expatri8 was ever a name used to refer to Darkleer- mainly because all I ever see people refering to him as is Darkleer. And at first it kinda threw me for a loop when you called him that even though it's the only name you knew for him- Anyhows- You probably noted this at some point but only upper middle class to high blood colors seem to have name names, with some exceptions. Like, they're weird, but Mindfang, Redglare, and Dualscar are all fesable names. Meanwhile the lower bloods just have titles.

It is absolutely in character of Alternia not to allow lowbloods to have names.

Anonymous asked: Just read your liveblog over the last two days. I adore your analysis! I second that one person’s reccomendation of In Stars And Time. Also I reccomend the Blue Lips homestuck video, it’s lived in my head for ages. I’m 99% sure it’s safe to watch now? It’s about the events of murderstuck and I don’t THINK it references anything you don’t know. Anyhoot! I know you mentioned vriska being like Azula when you first started getting to know her. Now that you’re as far as you are, I’d like to argue… Vriska is more like Zuko, in a way? Like. The way she wants to wipe things clean, the way he wants to restore his honor. The way they both have a “parent” that leads them to how things are, and for a while they cling to that as “right” and how things should be… One time I saw a post that Vriska is girl Zuko and Eridan is boy Azula and all the comments were arguing that no, vriska is Azula, but lowkey that post changed my brain chemistry and idk why people were SO vehemently against changing the genders of the characters in the comparison

I think Vriska works well as girl Zuko. You're right - they both started off under the thumb of an abusive parent, and they both try to 'fix' their past mistakes without understanding the wider context behind why they made them. Now, does this mean Vriska will also be getting a kickass redemption arc, which turns her into one of the comic's most straightforwardly heroic characters? Possibly, but I ain't holding my breath.

It's a little harder for me to see the second comparison, though. Like her brother, Azula was made into what she is by her horrible father, whereas Eridan became what he is on his own, with some assistance from Alternian culture.

Perhaps there are layers here that I'm just not seeing. I haven't read the Avatar sequel comics yet, so they might do more with Azula's character that I don't know about.

@mrjocrafter asked: I was trying to think about what the characters' moon alignment means in terms of their characterization, thought "Prospit dreamers are relatively passive while Derse dreamers are relatively active", then realized that's only true for the humans, the Post-Scratch Trolls' 6 Prospit dreamers (excluding Sollux, as his 'official' alignment, according to the Extended Zodiac, is Derse) are the more active characters. Then I realized that on Earth darkness and dark-associated characters are edgy and countercultural, while on Alternia light and light-associated characters are countercultural instead! Goddamn this comic just keeps coming back for more themes Also, I know you've compared Taylor to Vriska in the past, but she really strikes me as more of a Terezi. Beyond the surface level stuff (like going blind and then relying on a supernatural sense), Taylor, like Terezi has a strong moral compass but will twist it into pretzels to do the most horrific shit and there's a 50/50 chance she even regrets it afterwards. Meanwhile, Amy, who I think makes a much better Vriska, does her atrocities either under manipulation (like Vriska) or just does it without thinking about it and feels bad about it later (hey, also like Vriska). Also, Taylor Hebert and Amelia Dallon are coincidentally both valid troll names.

Yup! Which means Kanaya is a troll goth, which is still amazing.

And... hmm, I'm not sure whether I'd call Dave active or passive. He certainly acts more on his own initiative than John, but he also spends a lot of time getting bossed around by Terezi. He's kind of in the middle, really.

I do think Terezi's reframing of her violence as 'justice' is very Taylor-coded - and Amy is absolutely a Vriska, if we're working off the 'female, controversial, and morally ambiguous' definition given by a previous asker. Plus, well...

...yeah. And let's not even talk about Ward. (Because I haven't read it.)

Really, all these characters are multifaceted, and you can draw many different parallels in many different directions. If I had the time, I could probably draw lines from each of the trolls to a different cape in the Wormverse - but for now, we must continue!

@morganwick asked: Bec's influence on Jack is so strong that not only is he reduced to following Jade around like a puppy, he kills CD for completing the mission he gave him and leaves Jade, one of the players he's supposed to be killing, on her quest bed, the nature of which he didn't seem to know about when it came to John. Bec = absolute king.

Bec is a king.

It really does seem like his influence over Jack is increasing as time passes. Is Davesprite going to get more birdlike, as well? Or is Bec just a special case because he's a First Guardian?

Anonymous asked: oh my god you really just cleaned the board with the last minute Dave+Rose quest slab guess??? Like. You were going on about other things and then you just casually mention "oh I guess this could happen too" like okay!!! Seer!!!!

Yeah, I'm pretty proud of that one. I was just thinking about how Aradia might help the Derse kids, once she'd met them at the Sun, and then it hit me: she's been in exactly the same situation, in exactly the same place, because of exactly the same sun!

Anonymous asked: dogtier IS in fact what the entire fandom calls her, if you came up with that yourself congrats on the authentic 2011 homestuck experience, move over carcinisation this is the new big thing in convergent evolution

I did, but come on. That pun makes itself.

Anonymous asked: Fun fact: the music used in [S] Begin Intermission 2, "English", is the same when reversed. It is an EXTREMELY excellent detail. And another example of Toby Fox being a brilliant composer. @sanctferum asked: English by Toby Fox is a really cool song in that its a musical palindrome, playing the same both forwards and backwards, as befits the titular entity. The whole Felt album it's from is based around creating songs with time gimmicks in them, so it serves as a very good semifinal track to almost close the album out. @emotionallyglued asked: You finally got to the part where our big bad man appears! Simple question to ask but I'm looking forward towards the answer: what do you think of Lord English's theme? Grandiose enough to fit a villain of his caliber or did you expect something more/else?

Oh, shit, that's cool!

I liked the song a lot. Sure, it's not as bombastic as the boss theme I went with myself, but it is much, much scarier. It was the perfect way to remind us that this wasn't really a victory - that English's plan went off without a hitch. Our heroes are still in terrible, terrible danger.

@morganwick asked: post/756751870755733504 Still think of Doc Scratch as "Big Cal"? @sanctferum asked: You've heard of Lil' Cal and Big Cal, now get ready for the deadliest and dastardliest villain of all: Biggest Cal. Anonymous asked: you've seen lil cal, now get ready for BIG CAL @lon-kasi asked: finally, Big Ca- well. actually. Scratch was Big Cal, wasn't he? so finally, Bigger Cal

This is the real reason Scratch wouldn't tell Rose his boss's name - because if she'd known her manipulator worked for Bigger Cal, she'd have been too god damn scared to go grimdark.

Anonymous asked: T1ck T0ck goes the God Tier Clock. Its chime signals the Br8k of Scratch's H34D. And with the arrival of Lord English, he lets loose two great, Vast honk HONKS. Anonymous asked: Did you notice something about the English sequence? First, we see Scratch's clock. t1ck, t0ck. Then, his head breaks. 8r8k H34DS. He releases the Vast Honk. honk HONK.

This motherfucker died to the very words that birthed him.

I guarantee you that this was deliberate on Scratch's part. He didn't need to foreshadow his plan so blatantly - but this horrible little troll knew that nobody would get the joke until it was too late.

bladekindeyewear asked: "S u c k e r s ." The bioorganic-looking Tumor opening up to reveal a precision device. Twice the mass of a universe. Doc Scratch fucking played EVERYONE SO HARD. We couldn't believe THEY CREATED THE GREEN SUN, so hard many of us watched without REALIZING IT. If you reread the talk Doc and Rose had from p3627 onward, the amount of TRANSPARENT DODGES AND WEASELING he did in that conversation to mislead Rose and the entire readership is so blatant and shameless, oh my fucking god!!! Anonymous asked: Not only did Scratch never said the tumor would destroy the green sun, he also specifically said they would travel to the green sun LOCATION, not to the green sun itself.

God damn it!

Scratch may have been stoic on the outside, but you mark my words: he was absolutely roaring with laughter on the inside.

@sunbluethinking asked: Regarding 'a dozen or two sweeps,' you do have to remember that it seems like one sweep is roughly equivalent to two human years? (See Terezi's and Dave's 'I'm six' conversation, or whatever it was.) So my impression is that a dozen sweeps would be equivalent to 24 years and two dozen sweeps would be equivalent to 48 years. Still really short, but not quite as absurdly short. (Which actually reminds me of the question of the problem of rate of maturation in fictional races with different lifespans. (Dungeon Meshi touches on this, but) in the case of Homestuck, I think it seems like the trolls mature to adulthood at about the same rate. It's just their adult lifespans that are different.) @bellcarved asked: If my math is correct, "a dozen or two sweeps" is a range of 26 to 52 years. Still not great, but 26 would be the low end of the life expectancy, while they tend to live around half as long as a human.

So either Aradia was about to die, or she wasn't - but either way, she was always going to die young.

We still don't know whether God Tier stops you aging, do we? I have to assume so, because death by old age isn't really Heroic or Just, but I'd feel a lot better if it was 100% confirmed.

Anonymous asked: And here we learn the story of Jesus and the second coming- @bellcarved asked: Now you know the truth: Karkat Vantas is the second coming of Troll Jegus Christ. Anonymous asked: I doubt I'm the first to say this but, the story of the Signless is undeniably based off the story of Jesus Christ. @skelekingfeddy asked: you do realise that the sufferer is Troll Jegus right. the irons/cancer symbol is the crucifix. his method of execution turned into the main symbol of a religion. the dolorosa is mary. karkat is the second coming. hes literally just Troll Jegus lmao @sanctferum asked: turns out, Terezi was right all along. troll jegus was real after all, and he was indeed the best jegus. shame on you for not believing, Dave

God damn it, Karkat. You hate yourself so much, even though you're literally the second coming of Christ.

And really does add weight to Terezi's claim that Alternia had the 'best' Jesus. Sure, says she's joking here, but... well, her Ancestor was a follower of the Signless, wasn't she? Could Terezi have inherited more of Redglare's legacy than we thought?

Anonymous asked: now that you know about the signless i recommend you take another read of karkat's long password on page 3972

...huh.

It almost makes it seem like Karkat's vaguely cognizant of the Sufferer's life, the same way the Sufferer was cognizant of his pre-Scratch incarnation. Funny, that.

@morganwick asked: "For a bisexual alien, his shipping is awfully straight, isn't it?" Well, consider that when he drew that he was trying to adhere to the human model of reproduction with its explicit requirement of one person of each sex, as best he could from his alien perspective. Note that in the same conversation he's struggling to understand the "human taboo of incest". @manorinthewoods asked: Karkat's humanshipping is straight because John told him he wasn't gay, and presumably, he extrapolated. ~LOSS (28/12/24) Anonymous asked: Karkat's very straight shipping chart is the way it is because John's Not A Homosexual:tm:

I totally forgot I came to the same conclusion, back in that legendary group chat.

Man, Rose x Kanaya is really going to throw Karkat for a loop. He'll probably think that John was just bullshitting him.

@skelekingfeddy asked: steven moffat is a valid troll name Anonymous asked: You've brought it up too much not to ask, what did Moffat do that pissed you off so badly?

Once more, I am very tempted to make this a full essay, but I'll save time by just pointing to Hbomberguy's famous Sherlock video, which I agree with, like, 80% of - particularly the Doctor Who segment that I've timestamped.

In a nutshell, Moffat was always really good at generating intrigue, and building hype for future events - but as a showrunner, he never really delivered on his promises, and was very fond of handwaving established canon to the side. Pet peeve of mine, as you can imagine.

@rwbypro asked: We warned you bro, we warned you about the most important character @skelekingfeddy asked: carcinoGeneticist may have engineered the cancer…but terminallyCapricious was the one who made it terminal. ;o) @capribornio asked: Honk, honk :0) Heyyyy you reached the part where Gamzee became my favorite enemy. Forget Vriska, Jack and Doc Scratch - Gamzee may have his buttons pushed by the good ol' Doc, but he managed to make things worse than even Vriska got to (and killed more main characters, too!). Anonymous asked:Congratulations on reaching this point. So, Gamzee chucklefucked the universe. Crazy, right? @bellcarved asked: Gamzee's "Bard of Rage" title is looking more accurate than ever, now. His own rage lead him to put the clowns in John's dreams, which ended up inspiring the rage that made Jack Noir go to the lengths he did. Bardic inspiration, if you will. …also, this makes Perfect Jack a collaborative effort between Vriska and Gamzee. @capribornio asked: I feel like you get Gamzee much better than most livebloggers (and a part of the fandom, too). Gamzee is an orchestrator, on a much bigger level than any could have predicted. The silly little troll dissappeared once he got off the slime, got his religion destroyed, and got Lil Cal.

I told you, guys! I told you Bards were overpowered!

Yeah, he's already getting pretty crafty, isn't he? Maybe, instead of manipulating Gamzee like he did the girls, Scratch has actually been coaching him. After all, his own manipulating days are over, so maybe he saw fit to train a successor...

Anonymous asked: if vriska was presented with a choice about the creation of bec noir, it would have had to be before the veil because the trolls only flee into the veil AFTER bec shows up and wrecks their reward- and that's their first introduction to him. any choice she could have made about bec/jack after that would result in a doomed timeline, because it would break the loop. that's why it has to be before the veil. @manorinthewoods asked: What I mean is that the Choice that would have prevented Bec Noir is something that would have made Vriska change who she was, in such a way that she wouldn't later make Bec. Vriska's Choice that made Bec can't have occurred in the Veil, because there wasn't a Denizen to give it, so whatever it was, it must have been something to do with character growth that she failed to do. ~LOSS (28/12/24)

Oh, right, that makes sense!

Yeah, poor Vriska simply wasn't self-aware enough to make such a Choice before the Veil. It's interesting what-if, though.

@flambeaufelid asked: ICP albums liveblog maybe??? (Do people liveblog music reactions? They should.) Anonymous asked: Since you mentioned the possibility of having to listen to ICP albums to understand Gamzee better, I figured I’d better let you know that while reading a bit about juggalos, ICP, and ICP’s music does help with understanding Gamzee better if you’re unfamiliar with them (though I wouldn’t say it’s crucial), I don’t recommend listening to their music unless you’re comfortable with graphic depictions of gore, murder, and other forms of violence. (Speaking from personal experience here; I tried listening to them because Gamzee’s my favorite character and quickly realized I didn’t enjoy that.) Anonymous asked: I would say listening to icp is not necessary… I tried myself and failed not even half way through one album so I admittedly could be wrong but… I think it was never intended to be THAT serious

I checked out Miracles, back when ICP was first brought up, but I haven't seen any of their other music. It's probably not actually necessary to listen to the band to understand Gamzee, but I might still do it for fun, since the graphic content wouldn't bother me much.

@skelekingfeddy asked: according to hussie the fifth wall is what divides two narrators/authors @sanctferum asked: According to Hussie's comments, if the fourth wall is the wall between the character and the author/their audience, then the fifth wall is specifically the wall dividing omniscient narrators from each other. or something like that

I, uh, guess that makes sense. Presumably Scratch would be our second 'author' in this scenario, even though he's not literally another author of Homestuck.

[sokkastyles]

In hindsight, the Lion Turtle ex Machina was a sign of things to come. Energy bending and the idea of taking bending away from people only makes bending into the end all be all, I mean. Yeah, it is a huge part of the identity of each nation, but it's not the sole marker of identity, nor are villains suddenly less dangerous because they don't have it.

That's because the show doesn't tackle the idea of superiority and power that exists behind the ability to bend or not bend.

It's really baffling because there are some scenes that are really really good at acknowledging it. I know people have knee-jerk reactions to the comics for good reason, but those scenes in the Promise where Zuko becomes a shrinking little boy while his father walks all over him from his prison cell even though Zuko is the Fire Lord and Ozai is powerless? Those scenes are so spot on. Ozai used bending to control Zuko for so long and make him believe he was weak, so you would think that Ozai without his bending would not still be able to psychologically dominate Zuko like that, but the reason is because it was never about the bending, but what it represents.

That's why people who insist that Azula is a superior bender and deserved blah blah blah are missing the point. That's why energy bending and Bumi getting airbending to feel more like Aang's son is missing the point. It was never about the bending. It was never about how good a bender Azula was, it was about the entitlement that the idea that she was a superior bender created in her, and if it wasn't about the bending it would be about something else, because entitled people are always going to believe they are entitled to treat other people badly, and the reasons are arbitrary.

In some ways, Ozai having his bending taken away is karmic justice, and what would hurt him the most, as someone who believed his bending made him feel superior. But in other ways, it's just validating the idea that the ability to bend makes you superior. Ozai can say to himself that Aang had to take away his bending because they just resented how powerful he was, and it doesn't address the root issue of believing he's superior in the first place.

There's also this weird undercurrent of the belief in a spiritual right to power that's built into the world building of the show and creates some weird implications. Like, okay, I can buy into the Avatar as being imbued with spiritual power as the protector of the world. Okay, it's a kid's fantasy show. It's moments when the show tries to go deeper that it tends to fumble. The concept that bending can be taken away if used to create spiritual imbalance, okay. But then, isn't the existence of the Avatar a spiritual imbalance? What if the Avatar doesn't have the world's best interests at heart? Who watches the watchmen and all that.

And then you get to the stuff where the air nomads were all benders because they were the most spiritual, except sometimes air nomads have children that aren't entirely genetically air nomad and their genes apparently determine their spirituality because why isn't Bumi a bender? Oops, let's give him bending! Problem fixed! Don't pay attention to what this says about the belief that spirituality is linked to bending or how similar this belief is to the justifications Ozai used to abuse his kids, let alone the justifications the FN uses to commit genocide. The war began because Sozin was trying to eliminate the Avatar, because having someone who could control all elements was a threat to FN superiority. Not just because of the spiritual power of the Avatar, but because of what that power represented, that firebenders were not and could not be the superior benders, that there existed a more powerful bender.

I always circle back to the fact that the show missed an opportunity to use the Avatar as a representation of harmony between bending, which is what it is in its best interpretations. Instead of having Aang use an unbeknownst power given to him by a spiritual being to prove himself the most powerful bender and turn his opponent into the weakest, have him use everything he learned from his friends, the way Zuko did. Prove that it's not about bending or power, it's about love and trust and learning to understand and empathize with other people.

[mvmnbnv]

Hi! I love your blog!❤️ I Want to know what do u think on this:

I think it's crazy how you have to over explain to caitvi fans that Caitvi relationship is problematic. It's weird bc we have on-screen moments, explicit proves of the things we don't like on the ship and the caitvi fans keep talking about "media literacy", "nuance"... They should be the ones over explaing why it is a good relationship, not us.

And to be fair, I know there are some who over explaing it, but if u observe their explanation is always based on a distorted interpretation of scenes. For me their explanation it's like a Frankstein of ideas together, it requires much more work for making sense.

In conclusion, to see the Caitvi problematics u just need to watch the show!! But to don't see it u have to apparently have "media literacy" 😂

Fr like it's annoying at this point bc I know they're just repeating each other and have no good thoughts. And exactly that! If you take apart anything that they say it means nothing...

"Cait did this/that for vi" "Cait gave up her vengeance for vi" she didn't do shit for vi...she did that shit bc she was tired. And let's say she did do any of that for vi...she STILL treats her like garbage. Everything she does do for her is still done while she's condescending to vi and smacking tf out of her. And sorry if I'm not privy to the words of a writer who can't keep her story together for shit and who's writing is so ass it has to be cleared up in DMs. Cait never utters a single word in regard to vi and her motivations, it's all about her. She gave up bc she hated herself, according to her own words. Not because she loved vi. She "accepts" vi will choose her sister. She still treats her like shit. She still with her OWN WORDS minimizes the shit she's done to vi. And the big thing they REFUSE to acknowledge is vis psychology in all of this. It's almost like caitlyn is aware she doesn't owe vi anything genuine or need to put any work in other than "letting" her (which...ew considering she's now sitting on the knowledge of jinx being alive) see jinx and doing acts of basic human decency. The bare minimum. She knows she doesn't need to do anything for vi that gives her emotional stability bc vi is so desperate it doesn't even matter. She's got vi wrapped around her finger to the point where she won't call Cait out for hurting her and to the point of being willing to fight for a city that had her people under martial law for 6 months tops. But people don't care about how vis behavior makes this ship even worse, because like I've said before, if she was in a better place mentally she wouldn't even be in this relationship

Like yea we watched the same shit it doesn't mean anything.

[ask-the-golden-goo]

@pokeask-magi-retreat

*The Goomy approached the Magi, looking up at them with some awe. He'd seen a lot of wonderful things in his time but this just had a certain magical nature about it he couldn't quite take his eyes off of.*

*He kept looking up at them before remembering why he came to them. His demeanor changed to that of a more serious one.*

"Oh yeah, the reason why I'm here. Ha, almost forgot. I, erm, need some advice. It's a rather complicated situation and I just want another's opinion on it. I know, probably weird for someone with my experience to need advice."

*Slime Boi shifted in place. Was he going to sound like a bad Pokémon? What would these creatures think of him?*

"There is someone who I once called my family who did something truly awful a long time ago. I've not forgiven him for it. I don't think I ever could. Recently, he's been causing immense suffering to his kids. I guess they're not kids but they're still incredibly young. I want to intervene but they don't remember me. He is to blame. If I come in to try and save the day, they'll just push me away. One of them has already been brainwashed enough to follow his father's every move."

...

"Oh right. You folks need a gift. Gotta give something good."

Slime Boi drew a circle in the air using a formed hand. Where he had drawn glowed a soft, golden light. When the circle had connected together, a swirling, glittery portal appeared, a warm energy radiating from it. Slime Boi reached in, rummaging around to find what he was looking for, making a small, "Aha!" when he found the items. Pulling his arm out, his hand held three necklaces. These all had a golden chain, dappled with tiny flecks of silver and a stone hung on the end. The stones were all round in shape, however the colours appeared to shift and change in hue, going from the deepest blues to delicate purples. Like a galaxy trapped in a single place. The stones were also freckled with tiny white dots, seeming to glow faintly in the dark of the night.

"Though, if you look real carefully, you'll see that the white spots are a completely different pattern in each one. Rad, right?"

*Slime Boi pointed to one of the stones in particular, drawing out a shape, which looked a bit like a mew's face, using the star-like flecks. White lines briefly flashed the image drawn, making it clearer to see.*

"This particular constellation here is known as the bringer of joy. When early Pokémon were first identifying constellations, they used their interpretations of what they thought legendary and mythical Pokémon look like to figure out what they should be. They also named them after what each deity represented to them. There's a whole bunch of constellations in these with a wide range of god-like Pokémon."

*He held them out to the Magi.*

"Of course, if that isn't what you're feeling, I can go get something else. No trouble for me."

[binniesunderworld]

"I once compared Adrien to a mirror that projects the user's perception and cognition. Anyone who uses him, approaches him, educates him and guides him. His people will subtly project their own shadows onto him, and he absorbs many of the not-so-good things without any analysis and almost greedily"

You know, I guess that's something his parents taught him. Adrien never had completely positive influences in his life before school. While there were people who liked him, they were not good role models. And growing up surrounded by those behaviours, he never questioned whether they were really bad until he entered society, as you said.

"I can guess that before s2, he may have borrowed the image of Emilie as his personality expression (they are equally emotional, refer to some other people's comments on Emilie's resistance to her native family), and the isolated environment is very suitable."

In ‘Simon Says’ there is a scene where Gabriel talks to Ladybug and says: "I have to apologize for my son, Ladybug. He's like his mother, way too overly dramatic". So it's basically a confirmation that S1 Adrien got his mother's personality. We don't know much about Mrs Agreste's personality, we only know that she was rebellious and capricious, but still kind and hated upper class responsibilities. And by ‘capricious’ I don't mean that she was a selfish brat, but that she had very specific desires and did everything in her power to get them. It's basically the same personality as S1 Adrien.

S2 Adrien from now on is basically Gabriel. Adrien internalised Gabriel's anger and made it his own, and so many of his other behaviours. For example: physical touch. Gabriel always touches Adrien (whether it is a hug, holding his hand or grabbing his shoulder) when he is going to manipulate him, and Adrien does not realise that this is manipulation because he is so unused to physical displays of affection. So he interprets this simply as a token of affection without any other intention behind it. And that is why every time Adrien tries to comfort someone or show how much he loves them, his way of doing so is physical contact, because that is his perception of a token of affection.

Here is an example of Gabriel manipulating with physical touch, not only Adrien but trying to do the same with Ladybug. He puts his hand on Ladybug's shoulder and says ‘what could possibly happen with you here to protect me?’ in a rather odd tone of voice. Then, in another scene, he asks her permission to touch her earrings and extends his arm to do so before she gives her consent, to which Ladybug looks rather uncomfortable. This kind of manipulation does not work with her because, unlike Adrien, she is not touch starved. Hence the difference in atmosphere between the chapters where he manipulates Adrien and this one where he tries to manipulate Ladybug: Adrien's are not uncomfortable because they are from the perspective of a victim who sees it as a good thing, Ladybug's are from the perspective of a person who knows that the behaviour is weird and that's why the scene is so uncomfortable.

Whatever, I started talking about Adrien and ended up talking about Gabriel. Sorry about that. I guess the conclusion of this is that Adrien is a sponge that absorbs all the behaviours he is exposed to: when his mum was a strong influence in his life he behaved like her, when Gabriel was he behaved like him and when Marinette (S5) was he started to see through his father's manipulation and in a way he also started to behave like her.

I really liked the points you made and I don't think there are any mistakes, you did a great job!

How Gabriel Agreste Destroyed Adrien's Life: A 3 a.m. Analysis

From: ‘I enrolled in a school without my father's permission, I ran away from home to attend the first day of school and although I don't want my father to be angry with me, I'm not afraid of a punishment either because I KNOW there won't be one’.

To: ‘My girlfriend is alone with my father, with no one to protect her, completely defenceless. I NEED TO SAVE HER’.

One knows that his father is a good person who, no matter how angry he is, would never hurt him. The other doesn't, it's the opposite, he is no longer sure of anything, he fears for the safety of those he loves and is so terrified that he is about to have a panic attack.

But how did we get from the first to the second?

How Gabriel Agreste's abuse managed to completely change his son in a matter of days

People don't remember this because it happened a long time ago and has not been repeated, but Adrien used to be a NORMAL person, not as perfect as he is now. While he has always been kind and polite, there were also times when he allowed himself to be a bit hostile and not as perfect as we are used to seeing him (as Adrien, not as Chat Noir). Usually that ‘good boy’ facade was only used in front of his father and Nathalie, but in front of his friends he behaved like a normal teenager, even becoming a bit teasing, self-centred and rebellious. "The Bubbler", "Animan", "Kung Food" and "Evillustrator" being the clearest examples of these behaviours, in particular towards Nino, Chloé and Marinette.

In S1 it becomes clear that the only conflict Adrien has with his father is the fact that he does not give him as much freedom as Adrien would like. Apart from this, Adrien has no other problems with him and considers him to be a good father. There are several of Adrien's behaviours that suggest that Gabriel's overprotectiveness towards him was the only thing wrong with him, but that otherwise Gabriel was excellent. It is time for us to look at that.

1. Origins

Adrien literally enrolled in a school without his father's permission and when his father refused to approve Adrien's attendance, he ran away from home and went running to school. When Nathalie tries to convince him to come back Adrien simply says ‘this is what I want’ and turns around to continue up the stairs, not caring if she has anything else to say. He hears that someone needs help and immediately goes to their aid, and as soon as he finishes doing that he turns to Nathalie and the bodyguard with a charming smile expecting to see their proud faces, and when instead he sees that they are still angry he is immediately horrified and gives up.

This tells us a lot about Adrien: he is a spoilt child who has never been punished in his life, and when things get difficult his first reaction is to be adorable or do a good deed to be forgiven. Adrien intended to leave Nathalie talking to herself, and he wasn't worried about the idea of being punished when he got home from school because he knew it wasn't likely to happen. He then helps someone to ingratiate himself with Nathalie and the bodyguard so that they will stop being angry, and when he realises that it didn't work he is surprised. He is used to people forgiving his disobedience just because he is cute. He immediately gives up and asks Nathalie not to tell Gabriel. While he didn't want his father to be angry with him, he also didn't fear punishment because he knew he wouldn't get it.

Later, at the mansion, Adrien realises that Nathalie did tell Gabriel and he feels betrayed, as if he didn't expect her to do that. Basically, he is not used to people disobeying him. Gabriel again forbids Adrien from going to school but it's nothing he hasn't said before: Gabriel reprimands Adrien's behaviour with words, never with punishment, and there comes a point when words are no longer enough and Adrien is no longer afraid of them, hence he becomes ‘rebellious’. The next day Adrien runs away again and, surprise surprise, he is not punished, in fact he is rewarded. Despite having disobeyed his father again, he is rewarded and allowed to go to school, even Nathalie (whom he treated very badly) offers to help him. This reward is without explanation, just because. I'm not saying Adrien deserved to be locked up for life at home, at the end of the day he's just a teenager who wants to socialise with more people, but it's clear he was a spoilt child whose behaviours both good and bad were praised, just like Chloé and Felix, so if you ever wondered why he was such good friends with them, here's your answer.

2. The Bubbler

Here we get confirmation of how Adrien is a good boy only in front of his father and Nathalie, and how he is himself in front of his friends. At the beginning of the episode he together with Nino makes fun of his father because he does not agree to throw him a birthday party. Then, when Nino is akumatized, he at first refuses to be part of the party because he cares about Nino and wants to save him. Even when he realises that all the adults are trapped in bubbles, he never cares about his father, Nathalie or his bodyguard, only about saving Nino. And then he also gives up on this idea after a little chat with Plagg and says: "Okay, you're right. This might be the first day in my life that I actually get to do what I want for once", and Adrien joins the party without any show of consideration for the adults he knows.

Although all these behaviours were forgotten by the fandom, they are important to understand Adrien's character and how he changed due to his father's abuse. This is the normal behaviour of a teenager with a bit of a grudge: he's not a psychopath who wants something bad to happen to his father, he's a kid who knows that in the end he and his superhero partner will fix everything and he allows himself to have fun in the meantime. But it's something the current Adrien would never do, and there's where the difference lies.

3. Volpina & The Collector

This is the last episode in which we see Adrien acting like a normal teenager. He overhears Gabriel talking on the phone and decides to spy on him, then discovers that he has a safe behind his mother's portrait and out of curiosity goes to investigate. Adrien discovers the book and takes it with him, when he is discovered he quickly makes up a lie. RIP pre-lobotomised Adrien, you will always be missed.

This is the key point in the change of behaviour of both Adrien and Gabriel.

Gabriel confronts Adrien and he immediately gives an explanation in a tone of voice intended to generate sympathy:

—I just wanted to know what you were hiding behind that portrait that was so important.

This doesn't work so he resorts to blaming Gabriel himself:

—You.. you never told me about those things.

And this doesn't work either, so he decides to admit what he did but also looks for a way to justify himself:

—I was intending to give it back to you, I swear. But then I lost it.

Gabriel tells Adrien that he no longer trusts him, and what is Adrien's reaction? He just looks jaded and apologises to Gabriel, in an attitude that makes it clear that he is used to apologising to make things right, that he is not genuinely sorry, and also offers to buy him a new copy, confident that this will be enough for Gabriel to forgive him. This confirms the previous point: Adrien is used to getting out of his punishments just because he looks cute or does a good deed, and this became so repetitive that Adrien already knew how to get out of a punishment, and was not afraid of his father but simply tired of scolding that went nowhere. Again, there is no fear of consequences.

Everything changes completely when Gabriel tells him that this book is unique in the world, that there is no other copy. Apologies didn't work and the other form of redemption, buying him a copy, wasn't possible. Then is when Adrien's face changes completely to horror: he has just understood the magnitude of his mistake. His father punishes him by forbidding him to go back to school and Adrien is heartbroken, but does not try to reason with his father (as he had done, and many times, in past episodes). This is the birth of the Adrien we know now: from a normal boy to a submissive puppet. He knows that there is no way to redeem himself and that is why he decides not to fight, he finally realises that his actions have consequences, serious ones, taking away what is most precious to him: his freedom.

From here on we see a completely changed Adrien, from a rebellious teenager to a perfect doll with no thoughts of his own. Before, he pretended to be perfect only in front of his father, Nathalie and his bodyguard. Now he pretends to be perfect in front of everyone, regardless of whether he knows them or not. The trauma can be clearly seen: Adrien adopts this neat behaviour because he is afraid that his freedom will be taken away if his father finds out that he made another mistake. Now Adrien knows that he CAN be punished. He doesn't even allow himself to breathe in peace because of all the stress and fear he carries. And so it is that Adrien becomes a puppet unable to stop pretending even in front of his own friends: we go from an Adrien who was not afraid to react strangely to Marinette's odd behaviour, who was not afraid to tease Nino about his crush and who was not afraid to put Chloé in her place when the situation warranted it, to an Adrien who could not even keep his back bent for fear that his father would consider it inappropriate.

Gabriel Agreste being a shitty father and exploiting his son's weaknesses to profit from them

Despite being strict with Adrien, there were times when Gabriel let him spend time with his friends and have fun with them. In fact, in S1 there are several of these, most of them to be found there (before all the drama).

In ‘Animan’ he is in the zoo helping Nino with his date with Marinette.

In ‘Gamer’ he is playing video games for the school championship at Marinette's house.

In ‘Kung Food’ he comes to Marinette's house to help her with her uncle and even takes them to the hotel and stays for dinner with them, he spends practically the whole day away from home.

In ‘Horrificator’ he spends many hours filming the movie for the school.

In ‘The puppeteer’ he is going somewhere alone and relaxed.

In ‘Timebreaker’ he is present during the race between Alix and Kim.

As you can see, despite being strict, Gabriel sometimes let his son spend time with his friends. When did this change? After the book incident. After forbidding Adrien to attend school, Gabriel noticed how heartbroken he was and realised that school and his friends were not a whim for Adrien, but something he truly cherished. And Gabriel used these feelings to manipulate Adrien. In S1, before the incident, Adrien is more ‘rebellious’ and still has enough freedom to be with his friends. In S2, after the incident, Adrien behaves much better than in S1 and still doesn't have half as much freedom as before, and when he finally gets his father's permission to be with his friends, something happens at the last minute (Heroes Day Part 2, for example). This is because his father has discovered his Achilles' heel and uses it to benefit himself and manipulate Adrien.

The clearest proof of this is in the difference between ‘Horrificator’, where Gabriel let Adrien spend hours in the school filming the movie, and ‘Queen Banana’, where Gabriel let Adrien go for only a few minutes to the filming and right after he finished his part he literally left in a cage hanging from a helicopter. It is clear the pleasure that man developed in making his son miserable.

And we could talk about ‘Chat Blac’ and ‘Ephemeral’, but I won't touch those topics as they are not part of our timeline. I'll just say that they made it clear how far Gabriel is willing to go (literally traumatise Adrien) in order to get what he wants. What I think, is sick.

Adrien's Stockholm Syndrome: normalisation, justification and romanticisation, and how it makes him vulnerable to unhealthy relationships

1. Gabriel

We have already made it clear that Adrien became an uncritical puppet, and as a result he developed a terrible Stockholm syndrome. Adrien normalised all the manipulation, and by accepting it as something usual this caused him to start justifying it as well. Needless to name the episodes, in many of them there is always someone (usually Nino, Marinette or Plagg) who points out his father's problematic behaviour and Adrien immediately tries to justify it with ‘he does it because he loves me’ or ‘he just wants to protect me’. This shows us a big difference from the Adrien of S1 who was aware of his father's behaviour and even made fun of it, the current Adrien would never do that, on the contrary, he seems to live to justify Gabriel's actions. That's how serious the brainwashing is.

With Gabriel's behaviours now normalised and justified, they in turn begin to be romanticised. Despite being a shitty person, there are moments when Gabriel treats Adrien well: like when he hugs him (something Adrien is not used to), his worried words to Chat Noir about losing Adrien, or when he watches his mother's movie with him. These are all details that if they weren't accompanied by manipulation, anyone could call ‘cute’. And this makes Adrien unaware of the manipulation at first: his own denial and the kind details his father had for him confused his brain. Adrien did not think that his father could be so kind to him if he was a bad person, and that is why Adrien refused to consider him as such. This is a method of self-defence against dangerous situations, the feelings developed by this are not only romantic but any kind of feelings that are enough to make the victim feel safe in dangerous environments.

2. Kagami and Marinette

Let's start with Adrigami. Adrien didn't show a strong interest in Kagami until the chapter ‘Oni-Chan’ where he even rejects Ladybug's fist to make sure Kagami is okay, but what led to this? The romanticisation of obsession and control.

Kagami is simply Adrien's friend, but when she sees a photo of him with another girl, she gets so jealous that she is akumatized and starts chasing this other girl to get her away from Adrien. This is behaviour that is bad as a girlfriend, but even worse as a friend. Adrien doesn't take this seriously and even spends the whole fight making jokes instead of worrying that one of her friends is a jealous girl who is willing to kill for him even if they don't have any kind of commitment. Then, when he sees that Kagami still has the rose he gave her, his behaviour immediately changes and you could say that this is when he starts to feel a real attraction to her, even rejecting Ladybug's fist, whom he had long been in love with.

Here we see how dangerous the romanticisation of problematic behaviour is: Adrien is willing to let go of all the chaos Kagami caused and all her toxic behaviour just because she showed that she really ‘loved him’. And he reciprocates her feelings because he finds it cute that someone is in love with him enough to go crazy. The romanticisation of Gabriel's actions eventually led Adrien to romanticise other people's actions, even going so far as to feel honoured by all the questionable actions these people committed under the justification of loving him.

Something quite similar happens with Adrinette. In S5 Adrien mentions that he started to accept his feelings for Marinette from what happened in ‘The Puppeteer 2’, and there's no way this isn't weird. He had feelings for Marinette long before that, but it was that event that led him to accept them. Marinette literally assaults a ‘statue’ just because it looks like Adrien, starts fantasizing about a life together, steals one of his hair and many other weird things, and what's Adrien's response? To say that he fell in love. He literally saw how far Marinette was capable of going because of her obsession with him, and as much as that behaviour was justified with ‘it was a joke’, instead of caring, what he does is fall in love with her... because of her obsessive and bizarre behaviour towards him.

It is honestly quite disappointing to see how Gabriel's manipulation damaged Adrien to the point of leaving him craving only unhealthy relationships because that was his perception of love.

Both victim and perpetrator

Adrien developed a split personality and a taste for taking advantage of people when he is in situations of power. Gabriel turned Adrien into a victim and a perpetrator, the role depending on the situation. When Adrien is the one at a disadvantage, he displays submissive and manageable behaviour. When he has all the power, he has no problem using it selfishly and taking advantage of others. This was taught by Gabriel, from prudence to ruthlessness, are things Adrien learned from him. And in a way that's how Adrien differs from Chat Noir: the power they possess.

Adrien is always at a disadvantage: his life is in the public eye, everything he does is always monitored by his father or his fans, and if he makes a mistake it is very easy for his father to find out and punish him. This is why Adrien, always powerless, forces himself to act submissively. He does not possess the power in such situations, so he can only act as he is expected to act.

As Chat Noir things are quite different, he always has the power. Chat Noir is a superhero, he watches over Paris but no one watches over him, he has freedom, destructive power, a city that depends on him and a partner who needs him to defeat the supervillains. He has the power. And he uses this power to his advantage.

A clear example of this is his tendency to threaten. Adrien has several times been willing to give up his miraculous and even verbally threaten (in a passive-aggressive way) Ladybug just because it bothers him that she has secrets. All of S2 was Adrien threatening to give up his miraculous if Ladybug didn't tell him her secrets, and this behaviour wasn't like ‘we can't keep hiding things from each other anymore, this isn't healthy for me and if we're not going to be honest it's best to just give up’, no, this behaviour was like ‘if you don't tell me what you're hiding, I'll give this up and you see if you can do it all by yourself or if you find me a replacement’. I understand that he was tired of the situation, but manipulation is never justifiable behaviour. Evidence of this is found in episodes such as ‘Syren’, where Adrien even threatens Plagg with give up his Miraculous if he doesn't tell him what Ladybug is hiding.

Another example is ‘Glaciator’, where he invites Ladybug to a dinner and she makes it clear that she already has plans and is unlikely to go. And yet Adrien is self-illusioned, and when his fantasies are shattered by something Ladybug had already warned him would happen, he simply accuses her of mocking him, throws a tantrum, refuses to help with the akuma, and when Ladybug comes up with a good plan to defeat the villain he guilts her by saying: ‘Sorry, Ladybug, it's not cool to play with people's feelings’ when Ladybug never played with his feelings and in fact realised these only minutes ago.

There are many other episodes like these, too many to list. I guess the most notorious ones are ‘NY Special’ (where he has no problem being unfaithful to Kagami) and ‘Lies’ (where he also has no problem being unfaithful, lying to her, trying to provoke akumatizations and so on). His problematic behaviours are not only as Chat Noir, but also as Adrien when he finds himself in relationships where he has the power. In his courtship with Kagami he knows that she is completely in love with him and uses this to his advantage and does truly horrible things like the ones mentioned above without regard for her feelings because he knows or believes that she won't leave him. Something similar happens with his friendship with Chloé, he knows how much Chloé appreciated him and so every time she committed a bad deed he threatened to end their friendship. It's not wrong to want your friend to stop being a shitty person, and it's okay to let him/her know that if he/she continues this stupid behaviour you'll have no choice but to walk away, but the problem with this is that we go from Adrien's genuine concern for Chloé to empty threats just because, in the end, Chloé wouldn't change her behaviour and he wouldn't leave either.

Conclusions

This is not as well written as I would like it to be. I procrastinated for weeks and when I finally decided to write it I no longer had the series so fresh in my memory. I am a teenager with no professional knowledge of psychology who wrote this at 3 a.m. while I was not so sober.

This post is not salt against Adrien/Chat Noir, in all of ‘Miraculous’ there are only two or three characters I hate and none of those are Adrien, so this post is not hate towards him. While I did describe some of his behaviour in a not so nice way, that was not a personal opinion but an analysis. Like when you go to a psychologist and he doesn't give you his personal opinion but a diagnosis, the main difference being that I am not a professional nor do I claim to be one. Anyways, this is a direct attack on Gabriel Agreste for being a shitty person.

As you may have noticed, most of this analysis is based on S1 to S3. While I did mention some episodes from S4 and S5 they were not as relevant, this is because the first 3 seasons are the ones I've seen the most and ergo the ones I remember the most, maybe later (I don't think so) I'll do a part two on S4 and S5.

Finally: my personal opinion on Adrien. He is an amazing character whose development and build goes unnoticed by the fandom, this is probably because it wasn't done on purpose (if this character build was planned it wouldn't be half as good as it is, the writers aren't that talented). Adrien is just a boy, a victim of an abusive home that ingrained several of his father's behaviours within him and he has no ‘true personality’ as this depends on the situation he finds himself in. He acts this way as a method of survival and although it is not right, it is a psychological response and it is not as if he can help it. I'm really happy that the poor boy is free from his abusive father and I hope that in S6 he can be happy and get therapy.

[sepostscreencaps]

Romantic panel from Soul Eater post chapter 11

[curlytsunamiart]

a confrontation between miquella and messmer in the shadow keep throne room

[dunmeshistash]

How do you feel about Milsiril? Like what do you think of her interactions between the canaries, her goals, her intentions and morality? I keep seeing people with mixed feelings about her, some saying she's just toxic or morally grey or doing bad but with good intentions or that she's just a mentally ill and literally so much more, also with the comic about Otta calling Milsiril love for her children/Kabru as just love for a pet, I always saw people take it at face value and say yes, Milsiril did love them more as pets instead of children, did she take up raising/adopting non-elf children because she felt like none of them could ridicule her like the elves did because they didn't know what an elf was supposed to be like (and also because they were children) or did she inherently view them as less? I mean the canaries and I'm pretty sure almost all of the cast in dungeon meshi have some sort perspective on different races especially because how they were taught about them, i just think it was interesting to finally see someone interpret it as Otta just misinterpreting Milsiril, I'm just really interested in her, i think shes neat, sorry for the rant!

Ooh, well to preface this, I hadn't really realized Milsiril was such a controversial character before my last post, I kinda live under a rock. She's really not a character I had given much thought besides what I wrote there before it, but I can do my best to express what I have thought since, with sources for it. I'm not sure what order to go thru so I'll just go by manga appearances and then extras, this will probably be quite a long post

This is the first time she shows up in the manga (ch55) Kabru is wondering about what future they might have if the elves take them into custody because of the ancient magic, he thinks about Milsiril as a get out of jail card, and mentions "There's a chance they would make us become permanent resident of the elven lands." with the image of Milsiril holding him. I don't think that means she would be the one to not let them leave, since this would probably be an legal issue, and the fact Milsiril lives away from other Elves. It does set up that Milsiril is quite overprotective tho, with Kabru's reaction to her teary hug. (rest is under a cut)

The next time she shows up is in ch61 right after Kabru falls down the dungeon along with Mithrun, he faints and has this flashback

She's being her overbearing self treating Kabru's small injury as if its something you need to be in bed for, hand feeding him like he's a toddler, and when he insists he wants to learn how to fight and be strong like her, she hugs him revealing to us for the first time her arm scars, she's cleary in distress too, so you wonder "what has happened to her?"

It continues in the next pages, as she tells him to stay there, where it's safe and there's cake, and describes the bad things he might encounter. Until he tells her he will go with or without her help

Honestly this is a Kabru we don't see often, this is the version of him that is usually in thought bubbles, he's blowing out in frustation over being smothered and demanding straight up what he wants, instead of trying to manipulate Milsiril, very blunt for him. Milsiril seems to flip a switch into battle mode, when she decides to train him for real.

I really thought this was funny, the visual of these cuddly toys and this Mom that was being so soft just a second ago completely flipping into something menacing is very amusing to me. She says "I'll give you an exhaustive, thorough training in how to use a sword... until you finally decide that you're ready to give up." although it sounds cruel, it seems she really trained him as best she could to make sure he would survive the dungeon. If he couldn't take the training with her there was no way he would be able to take on the dungeon, but he could, so much so that he managed to make her let him go. I can see this being seen as her trying to prevent him from going but to me it seems more like some tough love from a traumatized war veteran in this case.

The last thoughts he has is admitting his Mom was right, "Not only were there plenty of traps, monsters, and malice... but there were times when I felt so hungry and cold that I couldn't stand it."

And he concludes with "I never once thought that I wanted to go back there. That room where I could eat all the cake that I wanted..." While I can understand the interpretation that he means he would rather go thru all this than go back, perhaps cause he hated it there, I think it's rather a statement to how committed he is to defeating the dungeon, the visuals show him in rubble vs him in a soft big bed, the rough reality he fought to be able to face and the comfyness of what his life could be. Plus is mirroring exactly what Milsiril said to him. Admitting she was right about the bad things but that he won't give up for the safe easy life he had.

After that visuals of Milsiril are used while Kabru tries to sus out Mithrun but she shows up again in Mithrun's backstory.

Here she's straight up called Gloomy, which wasn't really the version of her we saw so far, gotta remember this is also how Mithrun saw her and that she was called gloomy as a way of bullying. Kabru mostly cuts off her part in the story until the end, when she's the one to find Mithrun after he was eaten by the demon

She doesn't really care much for Mithrun as we see in some extras, and she was ready to mercy kill him, but she is also the one to spare his life. This could be seen as her thinking he can still be of use, and it's how it sounds with how Kabru tells the story, but I do think this was also a merciful act, Mithrun was in rehabilitation for 20 years after being saved, by the time he was actually useful for anything Milsiril had already left the canaries and adopted Kabru.

Now for extras... About Mithrun/The Canaries, Milsiril was cleary someone that hated the people around her. This is her extra in the Adventurer's Bible

Milsiril seems to be the type that hates "popular kids" so to say, her description says she was bullied by other elves for being so introverted so I believe she holds a grudge against people like Mithrun that seem to have succeeded where she failed. But realizing he was a twisted person like her seemed to make her feel more sympathetic towards him, that's why I think she really did act with mercy when she saves Mithrun, he's now someone she sees as similar to her, she sees he also suffered like her

Her decription also mentions she left the canaries specifically because she was disgusted with how the Utaya situation was dealt with. Yet it seems like she came back to help Mithrun with his rehabilitation once she quits.

There's an interpretation to be made that she did this only to get "revenge" on the demon since she just saw the destruction of Utaya, and that she's using him. On the other hand maybe she wants to help him find a motivation to live, she's no longer a canary and she has time to actually help him now. I don't know which one is the truth but it's not obviously something self-serving if you ask me. Especially in the context that right before this scene Milsiril admits she wishes they could have talked before.

My interpretation of her relationship with the canaries and other elves is that she's someone depressed that was mistreat for her 'quirky' side, the dolls are clearly one of the ways she used to cope with anxiety/depression but it only caused her to be bullied by her own kin, she's the daughter of an important family and it's shown in other extras, including one about Mithrun, that nobles often send out the kids they don't want around to become canaries. It's an easy way to get rid of someone undesirable and I think it was the case for Milsiril. (Pattadol even assumes her parents love her less than her sisters for sending her to join the canaries).

No wonder than that now that she's finally free from the canaries she chose to seek her own happiness away from the society she felt she could never fit into, she clearly likes to take care of children too, I think it's mean to assume she only likes them because she feels superior to them when there's no indication that this is the case.

And I don't think it's a coincidence she's so overprotective of Kabru after Utaya, it's literally the tragedy that was the breaking point for her, and he's a surviving small child from that tragedy, Milsiril cares about Kabru and wanted him to have a comfortable safe life after everything he went thru...

This ended up getting way too long so I'll make second part tomorrow about the rest of the extras and Kabru, and some other things I've seen said about Milsiril, but to answer the questions...

I don't think she treats her children as pets, Otta is just salty she was called out for dating like Leo Dicaprio.

Every single dungeon meshi character can be called morally grey because they all have flaws that in our world can be considered unforgivable, but they don't live in our world. To me Milsiril is doing her best in the context she lives in.

Who even is neurotypical in dungeon meshi, Milsiril is yet another flavour of a neurodivergent traumatized character among so many.

I believe she thought of the other canaries, especially Mithrun, as the same type of people that were cruel to her, probably because some of them really were, but that she generalized it to the point she thinks of all of them as bad by default. You can only get hurt so many times before you assume everyone will hurt you.

Part 2

[nightcolorz]

friendly reminder that the reason rolin jones made Louis a pimp in the show is because the network told him he couldn’t write him as a slave owner like the books but rolin considered that Louis having an exploitative working position that demonstrates his lack of empathy for people he doesn’t respect and his tendency to have little qualms for using humans as property for financial gain was an important part of his character that he wanted to honor and find an equivalency for…. Friendly reminder that analyzing Louis’s negative traits is an intended reaction by the writers and Louis is and has always been deceptively good willed 🙏 friendly reminder that it is likely very intentional that in the books Louis was a past slave owner and Armand was a past slave which added dimension to their relationship, and in the show they found an equivalency by making Louis a past pimp and Armand a past (forced) prostitute. Friendly reminder!! That all of this is not fanfare made up by fans meant to unjustly demonize Louis but actually like,, fairly overt subtext, and that Louis being portrayed as capable of harm and having negative qualities actually in fact!! Makes him a better more, likable and complex character in a cast full of horrible people, and that analyzing and appreciating this doesn’t meant u r unjustly demonizing Louis 🙏 thanks

[tsukasalover]

it’s kinda stupid to call rui “sassy” or say he was acting “mean” for simply doing what any person would do realistically after tsukasa humiliated nene in the main story. i swear this fandom has gone over this a thousand times and yet for some reason it’s still so hard for people to accept that tsukasa was being a self centered asshole. that’s not even exaggerating anything that’s just the truth.

btw (if im wrong correct me) but rui has never gotten angry at someone unreasonably he’s actually quite mature and doesn’t just?? explode over things so i dont know why him refusing to work with tsukasa even after nene forgave him is seen as a “mean” thing… let’s not forget he still believed tsukasa hadnt changed at all and only wanted to be in shows for selfish purposes. it’s not bad to admit that tsukasa is egotistical and has acted much more mean in unacceptable ways than rui + has had to own up to this and work hard to grow as a person over time

[quinn-pop]

woah semi future au magolor and sailor designs???

(slightly more in the future but still the same timeline???)

uh yeah. Magolor finally forms a bond with the lor and becomes its captain for realsies this time

he spends his time exploring and studying magic/dark matter/gem apples and if their power can be safely harnessed

he also just goes on side quests a lot. he may be reformed but he will still do a lot for a quick buck lol

he’s mastered his dimensional magic as well, which is why his cape looks like that :>

on the other hand, sailor is the new captain of the halberd and leader of the meta-knights. most of their job is taking down monsters but there is the occasional rogue wizard to stop from destroying the world or unleashing dark matter (huh, sounds familiar…)

they are usually very busy with work but make an effort to visit dreamland frequently in order to stay close to everyone. she’s always been a little distant from the rest of her family but i think she opens up a bit more after she, Bandee, and Kirby all start taking leadership positions. gives them something to bond over

by this point meta has retired from fighting completely but he’ll still give sailor advice when they need it. she appreciates having someone around who knows just how tiring a job it can be, and he’s very proud of her

oh, and one more thing

yea i let them get married. what are you gonna do about it? /silly

they don’t get to see each other much because of their jobs but they’re a thing