#people shouldn't have to be working themselves to exhausting to make ends meet

[apostate-in-an-alcove]

Remarkable how saying that everyone deserves a living wage so they can adequately support themselves is so controversial, especially among other blue collar, working class people. Deepthroating the capitalist boot and infighting won't win you anything.

[randomshyperson]

Old Yellow Bricks - Heart Shaped Series

Chapter Summary: The conclusion to the adventures of an international thief and an Avenger witch. Or the one where you stop skipping work, Valentina answers the phone and Wanda does an ultrasound.

Warnings: (+18), smut (wanda taking the lead ‘cause that’s hot), bl*wjob, unprotected s*x, creampie, more shapeshifting stuff, some supervillain drama, minor angst with a happy ending I promise. | Words: 7.094k

A/N-> Hey folks, yes, I know I disappeared for a long time but I was so busy and mentally exhausted that I couldn't keep writing anymore, and I used practically half of my vacation just to get a decent amount of sleep. This story was almost abandoned, but I decided to give it an ending, even if it was a bit hasty, out of affection for the plot and out of consideration for those who have followed it up until now. I hope you aren't too dissatisfied with the ending, I tried to address any loose ends and leave it open to the canon we already know. Good reading.

General Masterlist | Wattpad | AO3 | Series Masterlist

-&-

It shouldn't come as a surprise that you got caught. But you did, mainly because for the past weeks you've felt so comfortable around Wanda that for a moment, you weren't you. No international bounty for your head, not gangs or supervillains or big schemes. 

Just you and Wanda.

Your small argument with the Black Widow was to blame for your distracted state, but fairly, those men were probably following you for a while now, just waiting for the right opportunity to show themselves.

They weren’t aggressive, despite everything. You're just walking a little further from the hotel and this Van - Strategically hidden with paintings from a pest control service - was parked next to the sidewalk and you immediately knew. The door opened and nobody came out. 

It was an invitation.

You took a deep breath and a last glance at the street before getting in.

The face of one of Valentina's most trustworthy henchmen, Mrs. Cassian Camorra,  came to focus in the poorly lit car. He was not alone, masked guards armed to the teeth took every other seat. The only vacant spot was for you.

With a discreet shift, there was no longer much difference between your muscles and theirs. The change made the white-collar man chuckle at you.

“There's no need for that, reaper.” Says Cassian with a smirk. “We're not here for a fight.”

You stare at him with an indifferent expression, lifting your chin a little. 

“The Guns send a different message.” You say but he smiles again just before nodding to the others, who immediately relax their alarmed posture even though they continue to listen to the conversation. In that small space, it would be impossible to do anything else.

You don't let your guard down but sigh once your eyes meet Cassian’s again.

“I don't go by that name anymore, Cass, you know that.”

He chuckles. “Would you prefer shithead?” He teases but you roll your eyes, wishing this conversation would end soon. He laughs again at your expression. “I still don't understand why you would be ashamed of one of your greatest achievements. The Reaper was a goddamn legend! The name gave people the chills!” He recalls excitedly. 

You swallow, shifting in your seat. “Just tell me what you are here for.” You cut his enthusiasm with a sharp demand, managing to make your voice deeper. The security guard next to him has this immediate reaction of touching his gun, but you offer him a cocky smirk before focusing on Cassian again.

He adjusts his suit, one of his hands moving to his jacket pocket to grab something. A small purple cart is extended to you but you don't move a muscle.

“I'm not looking for a job at the moment.” You tell him but he chuckles, flipping the card to show you the back of it.

You thought it was the traditional mission paper with a coding at the back, for you to find target information but instead of that habitual info, there's a written number there.

“The Countess asks to meet in person.”

You don't grab the card. “If that is what she wants, then why didn't she come here herself?”

The man chuckles, and without giving a damn about the concept of personal space, he moves his hands to find your pocket and shove the card inside.

“The Countess is a clever woman, child. Why on earth would she talk business with your new superhero friends around?”

“They are not my friends.” You mutter, pushing his hands away with a slap before pulling the card out of your pocket. “And if she really wished to see me, her face would be the one to welcome me into this car.”

But when you make mention of getting up, Cassian loses some of the calm facade he kept so far. 

“Sit your spoiled ass back right now, kid.” The bodyguards in the two seats behind you grab you by the shoulders, but their hands move away once you are back at your spot so you don't try to start a new fight. “This is the problem with Valentina's little freaks. You all think you're special. She's too soft with your type, so you grow confident in your insignificance. Let me tell you what's going to happen if you don't take this cordial invitation seriously, Lady Fontaine. Every favor for your protection, every deal, is off. You won't be CIA protégée anymore, you'll be on your own. For once in your life. That might talk some sense into your head.”

The anger is burning in your chest because of the cruel words but it spreads around with shame and guilt. Tears beg their way to your eyes but you keep your cheeks dry.

“I've been alone my whole life, Cass. You don't know shit.”

But he laughs, truly, as if you're joking.

“Alone? You? Hydra's golden egg goose?” He mocked managing some chuckles from his colleagues. “You're the one who doesn't know shit, you brat. You have no idea what people like us would do to have the kind of protection you so proudly display without a second thought. The mansions, the travels, the luxury. All that money. And don’t get me started on the attitude. The rest of us living in the gutter, trying to survive out of crumbs while freaks like you get to walk around like you own the world.” He narrates with a trace of bitterness and contained hatred that makes you shudder.  “How many times have you walked out of prison? Do you think it's the same for the rest of us? That we get those same privileges?”

Some redness escapes to your cheeks but you manage to keep your cool.

“I have no power over how things happen in our line of work, Cass. And I am hardly the one you should be angry at. Those privileges you say, believe me, they came at a very high price.”

But Cassian rolls his eyes, dismissing your words with a hand gesture. “Fragile. You always have been. Crybaby should be your next nickname.”

You sigh impatiently and this time, when you move to open the door and leave the car, they allow it without any fight. Standing on the sidewalk, you hear Cass hold the door open and look at him one last time.

He leans for one last warning. “If you ignore her invitation, she will have her answer. And we will be back, this time, not for a conversation.” He lets you know with a little smile that makes you shallow hard. The possibility of putting Wanda in danger makes your heart miss a beat. And when Cass lets out a small exclamation as if remembering something, you somehow know it's not a good thing. He searches in his other pocket only to take a small photo.

“Almost forgot. She asked me to give you this. A gesture of trust, she said.”

But that was nothing trustworthy about Valentina being aware of you and Wanda's relationship, especially for such a long time. The picture is from a security camera and is clear by the poor definition, but still, that day is still fresh in your mind as if it happened yesterday. The Avengers fair you once infiltrate to find Wanda, only for her to end any plan you might had or ever could by kissing you. Inside those tents you were safe but outside, the camera caught the last kiss you stole from her before your departure.

The fact that Valentina knew about this, for so long, makes you feel sick in your stomach.

You don't take the picture - it's a symbol of the false freedom you possessed under Valentina's wigs. You storm off and hear the agents giggling and muttering threats before the car is gone, and so are you when you make a curve that takes you back to the hotel parking lot.

The whole thing made your blood boil. How dare she? What was she even after, what did that photo even mean? Was it a treat? Or it could really be a gesture of trust? Something like, yes she knew and she never did anything about it, so maybe Valentina doesn't want your complete misery.  But then again, you know her well enough to tell that every action she takes is a well-planned one. If she knew about your relationship with Wanda and allowed that with no fuss other than a small bait in the first weeks, telling you to read Avengers files in an attempt to get you away from Wanda, then for sure, Valentina had a bigger plan. 

And for once in your life, you're done with being the pawn.

Wanda's asleep when you're back in your shared motel room so you do your best to keep it quiet on your way to the bathroom.

This will be painful but you're confident you can manage, with your powers help at least.

The small device hidden under your ribs is a high-tech tracker and it's your last physical connection to your old life. It doesn't work unless you want it to, because it answers to a biological stimulation only you can provide. Baron von Strucker gave this to you as a work tool, if you were ever captured, you could call for help without anyone being aware.

You haven't tried to use the device purposefully in years, but sometimes, when being too hurt, it would activate on its own. And because it's quite easy to forget a hidden object behind your ribs, it occurred to you that it has been active since you bled out in Greece, the same day Wanda called to tell you she was pregnant.

The realization that Valentina was aware of your location for so long, Wanda's and her friends especially, rips a sob to your throat. It’s more painful to know you’ve been putting her in danger than the open wound.

You muffle down your crying the second you hear the bed shifting. But luckily Wanda doesn't wake up. Taking a deep breath, your shaky hands keep doing the hard work - to cut open with a medical kit's scalpel your skin so you can remove the tracker.

It's painful of course but it ends quickly. You don't need a badge but it does take a lot of energy to heal on your own so when you're finally back at the bed, after destroying the little device with a squeeze, storing everything else, and getting clean, you're quite exhausted. Stumbling around, you do a poor job of laying down without much noise.

Your girlfriend only grumbles sleepy in return before her magic brings you closer to her body.

-&-

“Wake up.”

It's less gentle than previous attempts, but Wanda had to do it. You were really disturbed in your sleep - mumbling and sweating as if you were running.

Your restlessness and discomfort disturbed her greatly, but she gives you a tender smile as she sees all the tension ease when you meet her eyes.

Sleepily, you close your eyes again the next moment and Wanda takes the opportunity to move the sweaty hair away from your face.

"You were having a nightmare." She mumbles, and she's almost sitting on your lap so you think that it would be a waste to miss the opportunity. Your hands bring her into the position with ease, but Wanda has concern on her face. "Talk to me, detka."

A smile fills your lips, and you remain in a half-asleep state. "I love it when you call me that. You're so lovely, Wanda."

A faint blush fills your cheeks, but Wanda is determined to clarify a few things. "You came back late and as big as a bodyguard. I want to know what happened." She says, and seeing you sigh with your eyes closed, she frowns her heart racing. "Did you find trouble?"

"No, everything's fine." You retort quickly, stubbornly. And Wanda tilts her head incredulously at the clear lie. You finally look her in the eye, and she thinks it's unfair that you're such a pretty liar. Unable to hold her gaze, you look away, the flush on your face more from embarrassment than anything else. "It was nothing." You correct, annoyed, and Wanda sighs at the whole thing. She hopes that one day, your barriers won't have to be so raised all the time and you'll be able to trust her by instinct. But considering the kind of life you've led so far, maybe something like that is just impossible to achieve. 

She moves one of her hands to your face, caressing the skin tenderly. "If you can't put it into words, let me see."

You close your eyes again, nodding, and the invasion is almost immediate. The whole thing happens very quickly - Wanda is getting better at it. Accessing last night's memories is easy, the hard part is dealing with their significance.

When she comes to her senses, the room comes into focus again and so does your turned-away face. Pure guilt and shame in your expression.

"I'm sorry." You say promptly, your voice a bit tearful. " I keep fucking things up. I brought them to us because I forgot the damn tracking, and I got everyone in danger. I understand if you're angry and want to shout at me."

Wanda sighs at the words, shaking her head. "No one's going to be yelling at anyone." She says, her hands moving lower to pull your shirt up a little. She traces the new scar, feeling some of the tension leave her shoulders as she sees that, apparently, you've healed fine. 

"Don't ever do anything like this again." She says, and you sniffle.

"That was the only trace I had-"

"Not that." She cuts in seriously, waiting for you to look at her. Wanda looks more hurt than angry and that confuses you. "You can't just self-harm in the bathroom and sew yourself back up in silence. You have to tell me things. You should let me take care of you, all right?"

Aware that the warmth spreading through your chest is quickly creeping up your neck and ears, you give up on putting together a coherent sentence. You nod quickly, and Wanda gives a weak laugh.

"I'm not angry." She continues, adjusting your shirt again, although her hands remain underneath, drawing patterns on your skin as she speaks. "You're always so... jumpy. And you get into trouble like it's second nature. And you're so incredibly stubborn-"

"Thanks." You grumble ironically, but your annoyance turns into a choke when you feel Wanda shift in your lap. It's an intentional fit at your hips, she's probably noticed the bulge you'd forgotten you were even carrying now. And the fit takes the air out of your lungs and makes your body jerk gently, waking you up completely. 

Wanda doesn't pay a second's attention to your reactions as she continues to talk. "You also have this habit of not letting me finish my sentences." She says with a little grin, her eyes dilating as your breathing starts to get heavy. "And I have to admit that you're hard work, but darling, you're worth every second of that effort. I wish I could take all the pain out of your past, but since I can't, I need you to understand that you're no longer dealing with things on your own. That I'm as devoted to you as you are to me."

These are romantic, intense, and considerate words. But Wanda is grinding slowly against your hips as she says them and you can only return a desperate nod, a deep moan tearing its way into your throat.

Wanda won't even let you lead - Your hands grab her barely covered ass through the oversized shirt she's stolen from you in an attempt to intensify the friction, but bright magic threads pull your wrists away in the next second. 

With your hands pinned to the headboard, you can only squirm at the mercy of the woman on top of you.

"You feel bigger than last time, baby." She whispers, almost losing her train of thought during a particularly hard thrust against your hips. You struggle to breathe.

But Wanda stops, and you bite back a sigh of frustration as you stare at her in a mixture of desperation and curiosity. She works with a certain urgency on your underwear, but instead of rewarding you with her warm cunt, she moves away until she's between your legs, her nails scratching your thighs.

"W-wanda, what are you doing?" You ask, suddenly very shy, your eyes slightly wide. She giggles, as her magic removes your underwear completely, and she leans in, planting kisses on your thighs that make you shiver.

Her dominant hand finally grabs your length and it's not very gentle so you let out something between a moan and a whimper and Wanda looks at you with a certain regret.

"Sorry, babe." She says softly, still holding you now more carefully. "I've never done this before."

Your mouth is dry, and your eyes want to close and just enjoy the sensation, but you fight these instincts to speak. "Done what, Wanda?"

She giggles mischievously, and her hand moves slowly, giving a tentative squeeze that makes the muscles in your thigh twitch. "You know what." She says in return, although you both share the strong blush on the cheeks, Wanda seems more confident about what she's about to do. "It can't be that hard. And if I do something wrong, you can just tell me to stop."

"Wanda, you don’t have to-" But she leans in, and unceremoniously takes your member into her mouth. You break down in an aroused sob, arching up on the bed. 

It's heaven, you're sure. Wanda Maximoff decided to wake you up with a blowjob, it’s a gift from the heavens that you must definitely don’t deserve but you won’t complain. You struggle against the magical chains just as you struggle to breathe and not to come immediately when Wanda continues to suck you off. 

It's sloppy at first - as she mentioned, she had never done that before. But the lack of practice doesn't make the act any less deliriously enjoyable. You feel very close very quickly and have to use all your concentration when Wanda meets your gaze, mouth full.

"Jesus." You groan, your whole body vibrating. Wanda pulls back, licking the tip and your eyes roll back. "Fuck."

She revels in your moans as much as she does in the whole thing. She can feel her own core throbbing at seeing you so pathetically at her mercy, but she wants you to finish first. Her hand moves to help and with each lick of the head leaking pre-cum, your body jerks in a way that makes the bed shake.

"Come on, baby, you can cum." She encourages you firmly as she alternates between sucking and licking. "You need this. And I got you."

You cry out the warning, and Wanda takes your whole length so as not to waste a drop. Your back arches on the bed, and the hot shot is deep into her throat. Wanda moans in return, making a mess all around as you try to return to orbit, your chest heaving and your body jerking.

She kisses your now flaccid member, biting back a smile as she watches the final throbs. Taking advantage of your state, Wanda resumes her previous position on your lap. Her magic fades from your wrists.

Just the brief rubbing of her thick thighs against you is enough for Wanda to feel you harden again.

"Are you sure, babe? You're still shaking." She asks teasingly, but all you give in return is an affected chuckle, your hands helping her to settle into you. The invasion happens slowly, and Wanda groans satisfied at the proof that yes, you are bigger. The stretching is gentle, and it's not painful because she's soaked, but it's still there and she has to bite her lips as she slowly sinks down until you bottom up.

Panting together, you watch her adoringly, your hands on her hips helping her move.

Wanda doesn't rush things. She rides you leisurely, feeling every inch of your cock inside her warm walls until the slowness is too overwhelming. 

Her hands rest on your shoulders, and you don't care that her nails are digging into your skin because Wanda feels too good for you to think of any other sensation than that tight pussy wrapping around you.

She holds your gaze, and between the grunts and moans she lets you know; "I love you." You can only nod, trying to gasp the same when Wanda suddenly bounces harder.

One of your hands grips with more strength, enough to mark the skin and she has to grab the headboard for a firmer support.

You groan at her nearly roughness; "Easy, woman." You try, even though she's grinding vigorously and the room has started to spin. "Wanda, damn it. Be more... ah... careful. You're pregnant...slow down… God."

She comes first, which is a surprise because you honestly don't know how you managed to hold it for so long.

You're still coming inside her when she collapses on top of you, falling down against your shoulder. But then there's satisfied laughter filling the room, and a joke about that being a very incredible way to start a day.

-&-

It's decided that you guys need to move as soon as you and Wanda are properly dressed and Wanda has encouraged you to be honest with the other Avengers.

And she also doesn't need to be a mind reader to know that there's something wrong with Natasha, who doesn't offer more than a mumble of agreement and doesn't say anything about you keeping a tracker jammed in your ribs all this time. 

While Wanda goes out to buy breakfast for the team, you stay behind and busy yourself packing the bags. But she is recognized at the grocery store near the motel when she tries to buy breakfast. It's just a child and her older sister, wanting photos with an Avenger, but it still causes her so much anxiety that she goes back to the bedroom with something more than food: a box of hair dye.

"I thought I'd follow Natasha's idea." That's what she gives as an explanation, and you laugh confusedly but end up believing it until Wanda has bleached spots and ends up confessing what really made her late. 

You're standing in the doorway, and she's focused on painting her hair, her eyes meeting yours through the reflection in the bathroom mirror.

"I'm sorry for not saying it right away. I just didn't want to worry you." 

You let out a sigh before offering her a small smile. "No problem, love." You assure her, reaching over to pick up the empty box of the product and read some of the labeling on the back. "I'm more concerned about whether pregnant women can dye their hair."

Your comment makes Wanda giggle. Her magic continues the process of coloring the spots, and she busies herself with washing her hands at the sink. 

"Well, most pregnant women can't manipulate energy and move things with their minds. I think I'll survive." She jokes back, sticking her tongue out at you when you smile. It ends up being a small grimace battle before you return the empty box to the garbage can and lean in to steal a kiss from her.

Wanda smiles through it, but her cold, wet hands reach under your blouse and make you jump. She laughs at the reaction, and you can barely notice the time passing as you play with each other and wait for the dye to finish settling on your locks.

When Wanda disappears back into the bathroom for a while, you wait for her to finish washing her hair and nothing really prepares you for the new look. Your girlfriend is slightly shy as she reappears, the towel still slung over her shoulders.

"So, what do you think?" She asks about the red hair and you swallow dry, speechless. Wanda blushes immediately, a nervous giggle escaping her lips. "What?"

"You look..." Your voice fails you and you have to clear your throat. "Really beautiful."

Wanda smiles, but then raises an eyebrow, gesturing gently in your direction. "It does seem that you truly like it, dear, I'm flattered."

You blink in confusion, before following her gaze and noticing your own body, and the bulge in your pants. Grinning in embarrassment, you quickly cover yourself with the nearest pillow. "Sorry." You mumble with your ears burning, but Wanda giggles, glancing quickly at the ajar door.

"I wonder if we still have time before we leave." She comments, scarlet threads appearing through the wood with the thought of closing it, but as if guessing the intentions of a delay, the door suddenly opens and Captain Rogers is practically pushed inside by Natasha.

"Nice change, Maximoff. But I hope your suitcases are ready." That's what the widow said, and she looked stressed, most likely because of all the stories about her adventures the night before. If your embarrassment over the tracker story wasn't enough, there was the other one you were trying to hide under your pillow. Wanda disguised it better than you, nodding quickly to the widow and gesturing toward the ready backpacks. "Steve can you take these to the quinjet please, I want to have a word with Romeo and Juliet."

The Captain sighed, trying to ignore being made a baggage handler - Muscles must be good for something - and offered you and Natasha a sympathetic look before leaving the room.

The widow closed the door but you spoke first. “Listen Nat, if this is a second scolding for the tracker, I've already made sure it can't be retraced and-"

"That's not it." She interrupts you with a certain determination, then a forced smile. "I've found a doctor for you. For Wanda, to be more exact."

The now red-haired woman gives Nat a surprised look and it's you who asks; "Are you sure it's safe? Risking a medical appointment in the situation we're in."

"You underestimate me."

"I didn't mean it like that."

But Nat smiles genuinely, shrugging. She checks her watch.

"We're actually going to meet her. Apart from Banner, she's the only doctor I trust."

You and Wanda exchange a look before nodding to Natasha in thanks. Your girlfriend then asks; "That's not all you wanted to talk about, is it Nat?"

The widow nods, seeming to get upset for a moment.

"I'm not saying this for the tracker story, I swear I'm not, but... maybe it's better if Y/N doesn't stay with us anymore."

Wanda snorts indignantly, ready to protest, especially as you lower your head. 

"We stay together-"

"I know." Natasha cuts off Wanda's defensiveness with a sigh. "I wouldn't expect otherwise." She mutters, taking a deep breath to gather her courage. "Rogers doesn't agree, you know how protective he is over you. I mean, he was pretty indignant when Tony tried to ground you in the Tower. Anyway, that's not the point. Clint left. He accepted a decent deal until things settle down, and yes, they will settle down. I know it feels like our world has turned upside down overnight, but we need to remember why the Avengers were created in the first place. It's only a matter of time before they need us, all of us again, and maybe it's experience talking, but I've seen so many governments collapse and rise again. I have seen this movie before."

The widow vents and you and Wanda don't have the heart to interrupt her. 

"What I mean is that Clint can make a deal for his family, and maybe you can do the same."

Wanda thinks for a moment until she swallows. "I'm not an agent with years of military service to my credit. General Ross would never offer me a deal."

"Not him. And not to you." Natasha retorts, turning her face towards you.

You sigh deeply as you understand exactly what she's implying. " Is there really no other option?"

Natasha gives you a sympathetic smile. "That's not an ultimatum, mercenary. Just think about it. None of us wants a pregnant woman in the life of a fugitive, and don't make that face Wanda, I know you don't want the baby to be in danger either." Your girlfriend begrudgingly shuts up, knowing that the widow is right. "Just give it a thought. Melina has agreed to do the prenatal care, so you have all this time to make a decision."

Natasha nods in farewell before heading out the door, and you turn to Wanda.

"Do you have any idea who Melina is?"

-&-

In the safety of the Quinjet and the untraceable lines of the Avengers, you call Contessa Fontaine.

The first thing Valentina says when she sees your face in the high-definition hologram is a scolding; "That tracker was worth a billion dollars."

You have to laugh, your back resting on the cold metal of the ship. "Can't say I'm sorry, boss. Having a tracker in the middle of your ribs doesn't scream work ethic."

She gives a short laugh, and you realize from the surroundings that she's in the private room of the Fontaine Mansion, a place you've been to countless times before.

"What can I do for you, my dear child?" She asks, slightly impatient. You swallow dry.

"Your people said you wanted to see me." You comment. 

Valentina laughs wryly. "Oh, yes, in person. Not talking through an Avengers line. You must have lost your mind."

"There are no more Avengers, Val, you know that." You retort, and she smiles in satisfaction.

"Touche." She mutters before raising her bright eyes to you. "But let me guess, they're listening to this conversation."

You sigh impatiently. "What difference does it make? I've been with them for weeks. I could have told them all the secrets I know about your work, but I didn't. Just as you didn't inform General Ross of their location. So how about we stop playing games?"

Valentina gives another evil little laugh, nodding. "Oh, dear, I miss our conversations, you're always so direct and attentive. Yes, I didn't hand over Team America to Ross, because unlike that arrogant fool, I have no interest in seeing our heroes trapped in the Raft. Only someone like Ross and his ballistics background would think of something as stupid as taking out Earth's main line of defense for threats we have no means of dealing with." You remain silent at Val's words, and she takes a breath to continue. "You know me, Y/N. I like my... enhanced ones. I understand the grandeur of this new world, men like Ross, impressionable with colored rifles, don't."

"So... you've been trying to help the Avengers?"

She breaks into a laugh. "Help? Don't go that far." She retorts grinning. "Let's say we had allied objectives up to the present moment. And I have no reason to put them out of work, you know? In any case, perhaps a little time out of the spotlight and struggling will lower some of their egos. It's a shame that Mr. Stark always seems to shrug off the consequences of his actions, he could learn something without having billions to spare."

You sigh without patience for the speech, adjusting your body. "Val, speaking of money-"

"Oh, it's about time."

With a short laugh, you continue; "I need mine."

She looks at you for a moment, before smiling. "Your money has always been yours to use. Nothing has changed."

But you force a smile, not quite believing it. "Everything has changed, Val. I don't want Lady Fontaine's money. I don't want to be one of your pawns. I want a new account, a new life. With everything I've worked to earn."

"And what makes you think I can give it to you?"

You snort, rubbing a stress point on your forehead. "Please, Val, don't take me for someone naïve, who doesn't know the extent of your influence."

But Valentina sighs deeply, resting her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands, to look at you intently.

"In fact, I'm beginning to think that your naivety is indeed remarkable and, unfortunately, my responsibility." She comments, and you chuckle ironically and indignantly, but she doesn't let you question it. "There is no new beginning for you, Y/N. Not the way you're asking me, not the way you really want. You're deluding yourself if you think I can bring in false documents and billions of dollars without anyone ever finding out the truth. That's not how things work. The bill always comes, and a past so stained with red always catches up with people like us." She says and you swallow, not having the heart to interrupt when you know deep down that she's not lying. Despite her seriousness, Valentina's gaze softens: "I know it's not what you wanted to hear, but all is not lost. You've been walking around for weeks with someone who committed as many atrocities as you did, and yet have been allowed to experience the greatest version of freedom a criminal can get."

It takes a moment for you to realize that she's talking about Natasha. You glance quickly at the main area of the quinjet through the glass of the private room they got you to call Val, and your former boss uses this time to light a cigarette.

"I'm not a black widow."

Val chuckles. "Of course not, they fight much better." She comments and you grimace. Val takes a slow drag, blowing smoke against the camera before continuing to talk; "Speaking of them, you should thank your new friend sometime. The amount of black widows she's put on the market looking for work is what's given you so much time off. I'm not short-staffed, thanks to that."

"I'm glad the rescue of trafficked women has given you new employees, Contessa." You sneer in annoyance, stepping out of the way of the video and ignoring her confusion to tap lightly on the glass. The Avengers outside look up at the same time, but you wave for Natasha and Wanda to come inside. 

"Where'd you go, little bird?" Val asks the wall, and ends up choking on her smoke as the faces of the two Avengers come into focus next to you. "Oh, hello. What an honor-"

"Cut it, Val." You interrupt annoyedly, squeezed between Natasha and Wanda on the seat in the room. "Make your proposal. I want Romanoff to tell me if it's true, because she's the only one with any real experience of these things, and well, Wanda's my partner and she should be up to speed."

Your former boss smiles impressed. "What a lovely thing, a thief and an Avenger, my eyes can hardly believe it." 

You snort impatiently, but Valentina doesn't keep up the teasing. She nods, before turning her attention to the personal computer next to her phone. As she types, she repeats her earlier proposal. "I need to work on it first, dear. But I understand it will be something very similar to the agreements Miss Romanoff signed with Shield when she was hired as an Agent. Serving the American government entirely in exchange for freedom."

Natasha looks at you. "Is that what you want to do? Be an Agent?"

But you shake your head, offering her a sad smile. "There's no more Shield to recruit me. And I don't think I'm fit to be an Avenger anyway. But Val is director of the CIA. She could offer me something perfectly legal. And I could have an almost normal life."

"But what about the Sokovia agreements?" Wanda asks in concern. "You're an enhanced one."

Before you can answer, Val hums and grins. "Oh, I can see why you like that one, she's clever." You roll your eyes at the provocation, wishing you'd gone to see Val in person and could pull a gun on her to make her behave. Your boss stops typing and turns her full attention to the three of you. "Miss Maximoff has a very good point. If you wish to work with me at the moment, a CIA Agent contract, you would be legally obliged to sign the Sokovia Agreements."

You snort impatiently. "I'm not signing something that would force me to become a lab rat again! And certainly not something that says Wanda should be behind bars or-"

"Relax, I didn't say I was going to make you sign it." She cuts in. "And you're the one in a hurry for a new job after all. I don't understand the hesitation to do something that could be entirely bureaucratic if you stay out of the spotlight."

You hesitate, and exchange a quick glance with the two women next to you. Natasha shakes her head in the negative, but Wanda sighs.

"I'm pregnant."

Valentina chokes on her cigarette again, and Natasha covers her face with her hands. You don't know how to react, and Wanda keeps talking.

"Y/N is doing this for us, and if your partnership has meant anything other than work all these years, I know you'll help her."

But Valentina shakes her head, chuckling incredulously to herself. Wanda begins to worry. 

"I don't want to appeal to sentimentality, I'm just asking you to be considerate. Job or not, no one is going to put my family at risk. I won't take it lightly if your people follow and threaten her again."

But Val gestures quickly. "A child, little bird? How can you keep this a secret from me?"

You sigh tiredly. "It wasn't exactly any of your business."

But Val leans over to pick something up from the table, and you frown as you recognize your old research file. "Except, well, it's entirely my business." Val retorts seriously, her eyes running over the pages she's leafing through. Until she lets out a small exclamation. "Yes, here it is. Strucker specifically wrote that you were infertile. And that was a disappointment of course, because everyone who gets an enhanced one, would love to make more of them."

Wanda looks at you with confusion, but you stand up as if you're going to choke on the attention, taking the cell phone with you to the other corner of the room.

"I know exactly what those pages say, you don't have to read them to me." You retort angrily. "Strucker had to believe that he couldn't have more of me, okay? I couldn't..." Your voice falters, but you control your emotions by swallowing hard. "I did what I had to do. The changes to my body so that he would never find out. So that no one would find out. But when I'm with Wanda, I just... I don't think about the past. I can breathe, Val. And it happened. And I'm asking you, if your mentoring has meant anything all these years, to give me a chance to be more than a goddamn puppet. Please."

Your boss remains silent, thoughtful, before sighing and offering you something like a sincere smile, however small.

"Ten years, little bird."

You frown in confusion. "What?"

"Ten years." She repeats. "That's the most I can offer you. Your money, a new identity, a fresh start. Think of it as extended maternity leave. The child will be old enough for boarding schools, and I'll charge you for the services."

"I-I..." You hesitate, looking at Wanda who has an expression that says she can't make this decision for you.

Valentina stands up, taking the phone with her. "I'll work on your contract carefully. Nick Fury is not a foolish man, little bird. He sees the world as I do, the dangers that surround us and that must come from the outside. I like the idea of a team working on my behalf, but it's too early for anything like that. Especially with everything that's happening with the first team." Val continues, and you swallow. She gives you a genuine smile. "And of course, all those years have meant something to me. You're the first person I'd trust with the job."

You want to tell her that this isn't the kind of meaning you'd like, but you think that work reliability is all Valentina can offer you. You nod and thank her and she says goodbye before hanging up.

Natasha thinks it best to leave you and Wanda alone for a moment, and when you sit down on the floor, Wanda sits down next to you. Silently, she holds your hand and rests her head on your shoulder.

"A lot can change in ten years." You murmur, and you don't need to explain for Wanda to understand your hope that you won't have to fulfill any contracts. She squeezes your hand tighter because the decision has already been made. 

Your cell phone vibrates again, not with the CIA contract, but with your new documents and bank account filled with all the money you've earned as a mercenary. It makes your stomach turn with the feeling that you've just sold yourself again, and there's nothing you can do about it.

Wanda turns away to look at you and waits for you to do the same. Once your gazes are connected, she raises her hand to your face and pulls you in to kiss you softly on the lips.

"I'll always love you. Nothing will ever change that." She whispers against your lips, her forehead resting against yours. "I need you to promise that you'll always remember it."

You caress the wrist of the hand she holds to your cheek, and continue with your eyes closed. "I won't remember anything else."

She smiles, ending the distance again.

You kiss for a moment before you pull away to press your lips to her forehead and squeeze her hand. 

"We'll be fine, Wanda. It's me and you, and just one baby. We can manage."

She smiles tenderly, nodding before hiding her face in the crook of your neck and sighing as she repeats the words. "You're right. Two of us, and a whole team of grumpy superheroes to handle one little baby. How hard can it be?"

Six hours later, Melina Vostokoff carried out Wanda's first ultrasound, which would reveal not one, but two little boys growing inside her womb. Both of them had a natural inclination towards superpowers. 

But that's another story.

[tartarusrising-rp]

OOC INFO

Name/Alias: Arrow Pronouns: She/They Age: 31 Timezone: PST

IC INFO

Character Name: Kevin Ma Character Age: 29 Character Birthday (with year): July 10th, 1995 Gender & Pronouns: Trans Man; he/him Affiliation: Asphalt Demons Occupation: Sex Worker/Mule Faceclaim: Ben Levin

BIOGRAPHY

TW: assault, gambling addiction, death, coerced sex work

There are some people who shouldn't be parents, and at the top of that list is Thomas Parsons. But Helen Ma had no other family, no marketable skills, and no way of staying off the street without him. Despite that, he makes it no secret that he's disappointed not to have a son, and for as long as Kevin can remember, his father has taken out that irritation on horse bets and casinos.

Even with that looming dark cloud, their mother worked two jobs to put food on the table and make sure their clothes are clean and warm. She was perpetually exhausted, with sore hands and bags under her eyes, but she always had a moment for her children. When Kevin comes out to her, it's clear that she doesn't understand, but she still tries, and that's all that matters to him. He forgives when she catches herself using the wrong pronoun, and explains patiently whenever she has a question.

Life is by no means easy, but Kevin learns to adapt. One lesson his mother instills in him and his sisters is that no matter the circumstances they find themselves in, they must always strive for excellence. His grades, while not perfect, are enough to get him into a nearby university, four years to hone his skills in computer science and get a degree that would actually be able to help his mother and his sisters for once. He finds himself in college, with the freedom to spread out and experiment and dive into new situations without fear. He makes new friends and broadens his horizons, feeling for once like he has the safety net to be who he wants to be.

He's four months away from graduating when the Demons jump him for his father's gambling debts, though he had no way of knowing it was them at the time. Police assumed it was a crime of opportunity, or potentially even a hate crime, and no one is ever arrested for it. They dump him outside of a hospital, his right leg bent at an unnatural angle, face swollen beyond recognition. Four surgeries and eight months of recovery later, and he starts to learn how to walk again, even if the pain never leaves. Graduation comes and goes while he is in a coma, but Kevin never actually receives his diploma. The idea of jumping through hoops to get a final few credits hardly seems worth it, much to his mother's chagrin. But she's also just thankful that he's alive.

The medical bills start to stack up, and to his credit, Kevin's dad tries to square up. Kevin finds a job working at a local arcade, doing what he can to help out the couple that runs it as well as his parents. For a few years, things balance on a razor-thin edge but they manage. He thinks about using his computer skills for something more lucrative, with people willing to pay more. But old vices are hard to shake and a streak of good luck quickly turns into a whole host of bad for his old man. He disappears for good one night, and the cops find his body four days later, half-buried in the wetlands with a bullet through his temple.

The day after his funeral, Kevin limps into the clubhouse of the Asphalt Demons to meet with the President. He offers to work to pay off his father's debt, on the condition that the Demons leave his mother and sisters out of it. A noble request, and one that the gang is willing to honor as long as he holds up his end of the bargain. They call, and he comes. Most nights are spent in back rooms and seedy people, hands groping and gripping like they owned him, which they did. Sometimes, he's tasked with delivering goods from one place to another, anything that makes him useful in the eyes of the organization. But the money is better than it has been in a while, and the Demons make sure he gets his fair cut. It's enough to keep things steady, and he knows he can at least trust the gang to keep his family safe when he can't. It's not the situation he wanted for himself, but he bides his time until something better comes along.

[sinnersandsaints-linwrites]

I really liked the demo, every little thing was so emotional and dramatic, but I got used to the writing style pretty fast, I think. I loved the bike and Khari's gloves and the first meeting in Hayes office was... a bit onesided. Either offensively draw attention to their scar and voice issues or ignore them? LIke, could we have a middle option? And also are we sitting in the only chair and Khari is standing? Shouldn't we get up and offer them a handshake they can rudely ignore? With Morgan's first meeting it ITCHED my MC in the fingers to just march into the kitchen and start cleaning the dishes and collecting the trash and just... clean up a little. Or a lot. They are a bit cluttered themselves (I went for the art background and all artists I know live in organized chaos), but at least they always have a clean floor and kitchen. Now, Sage, though? MC was more intimidated than attracted tbh. It's unnatural how wrinkle free their clothes are and how their face adapts to whichever emotion they want to portrait. It's like watching a living artwork or a computer AI walking around and adapting to whatever happens to be in front of it. Definitely memorable, though! A technical issue for the demo review: the pure black and white kind of hurts my eyes and the bright script gets swimmy if I don't concentrate, could you maybe offer an option with more graded and softer colors? grey script on beige or wine red on dark grey?

Otherwise, I did not expect the prologue to be this long or exhaustive and was really positively delighted that it went beyond the character creation! For that, personally I thought the skin colors are a bit awkward. I'd suggest limiting it to like pale/ashen, fair/rosy, olive, ochre, tan, medium/golden brown, deep brown and ebony. Most of those are already on a scale and too many choices are pretty cluttered in the end? also ivory just sounds like a dead porcelain doll, but that's just my subjective feeling on the matter, maybe. I really liked the body image choices and though some felt repititive, there are probably people who like the specifying choice between just surgery and top surgery, so no issues with that. Though I'd make it two things: one choice on whether you are comfortable, uncomfortable or neutral with your body and then one about cis, hormones, surgeries? Just to cut down on the lenghty line block of the sentences. That might just be because the white lines kept blurring into each other for me, though. I like the tattoo choices, though I'd like to make it one big tattoo on my back rather than many, if that's possible? (I always really liked these big yakuza style back tattooes of tigers and dragons and phoenixes or onis.) The scars especially made it feel like there was a story to them, so I REALLY liked those and I opted out of the rest, so I can't say anything on that. Sorry for all the unsolicited advice? I just really wanted to leave a review and the comments didn't seem the right place for this. I loved it a lot so far, I'm looking forward to actually giving my MC a bit more of a defined personality and improving those cursed relationship statuses! Thank you for all the hard work you've poured into it, it's appreciated and please keep at it! Much love!

Actually Khari likes when you comment on their voice (they’d tell you otherwise very loudly kjhf) and offering them water is kind (or at least I thought so).

Khari keeps themself physically distanced — that’s may be why the scene feels slightly one sided. They really don’t want to be there, and neither does Hayes, but here you all are, forced into a room.

And yes, there was only one chair! MC’s office is really cramped </3

As someone who went through hell art school of sorts, can confirm artists live in chaos. Condolences to your MC, cause Morgan drags the chaos with them to work 😭

This was what I was going for with Sage, the uncanny valley effect! :d along with just feeling of like, pretty snake staring at you

I am currently working on a light theme for SaS with more toned down-pastel/graded colors <3

I’ve explained the skin tones for customisation here

I won’t be changing the body choices, it may seem repetitive since they are similar, but it is easier for me with coding this way.

I may add further options about tattoos, but for now that’ll be the only options, as I don’t want to make my life too hellish by coding all the new variables </3 and I leave it up to you all to headcanon your MCs tattoos, glasses, etc.

I'm glad you liked the scars options!! <33

and thank you for the kind words!! I do appreciate all of the feedback, it helps me improve both myself and the project! :d

[yanderecandystore]

Overworking [Yandere bully - Headcanons]

You weren't as taken by surprise as you probably should. You were already aware of your parents conditions.

You could hear them debating what are they gonna do next. What happens when they can't afford it anymore?

They already worked day and night on that miserable job, they were on their limits.

They were going to be fired, and they already new it. You, already new it.

You wished to help, but they didn't let you help them with your money because they didn't think it was fair to take away what you worked hard to get.

But you could say the same to them.

Now that the inevitable already happened, you weren't taking "no" for an answer anymore, you're going to help them.

Your grandparents decided to help you and you parents, you were staying with them until your parents managed to get an new house.

For that, they needed to find a new job.

It was cramped, but you didn't really care, although your situation wasn't the best you wanted to stay positive.

You're helping them now, your going to try to save your earnings from your own work while they look for something they could.

When you have enough to buy a new house, maybe you can all relax. And maybe your parents will have an better job, right?

Hope is your best ally now.

You managed to get a second part-time job! That's an win! You think.

People around the school could see how exhausted you were.

Working on a part-time job, going to school, studying, getting bullied, going to another part-time job, going home and trying to get some rest. And then do the same thing the next day.

Even your bullies noticed this, well, of course they did. They didn't know your condition, so they assumed it was just an attempt to get away from them.

Always too tired to play with them, pay attention to them. Always running away from them after school ended so you could get to your little job sooner.

You actually looked so, scared, like your life depended on it. They started to get suspicious, always tired, always trying to come home earlier (at least they thought you were going home).

This is stressing you out so much. You actually started to cry just thinking about it.

This sucks so much!

It was one day, that they decided to go to your house.

No one was there.

It had a sigh saying it was being sold. It had some people looking at it and considering to buy it.

This whole scene, made them worried, what happened??

When did this happen? Were you homeless? Were you alone? Were you safe? Where were you living? Where were you?

They panic, they need to talk with you, now!

Finding whatever they can to help find you, or even just confronting you in the school.

They find you, desperate to go to your job after school, you were tired, hungry, anxious. You were trying to rethink everything you needed to do before the day ended.

They begged, they threated, they cried, they would do anything for your answer, just please, tell them!!

You tell, afraid and also overwhelmed, all that had happened.

Even if you don't trust them, you can't bottle up this stress anymore.

You can't remember exactly all you told them, but you remember crying and, passing out.

You wake up, not on your romm, not on your grandparents spare room, it was an luxurious room, you could tell you didn't belong there.

You realize that you didn't go to work after school, and since you're in a different place, you probably never got home. Your backpack was on top of an chair.

Were your clothes, changed??

You panic, you need to go home and calm down your parents, they probably are worried sick about you! And you need to apologise to your boss! God, and your coworker, she had to take care of everything by herself! And you had homework??!! God, this-

You can't even notice the wealthy and luxurious surroundings as you try to get out of this place immediately.

You actually don't even notice how familiar this place is to you, you feel trapped and lost, and why this place so freaking huge??

You can hear talking and giggling, is it the people that picked you up? Maybe they have answers on what happened and maybe they lead you the way to the exit?

You were shocked to see your parents and, the twins parents, and the twins themselves talking and looking so relaxed.

Oh, so, you're in their house. You probably shouldn't have panicked as much. They offer you breakfast and look at you with concern.

Your parents hug you and talk about how worried they were.

Apparently, the twins had picked you up and you came with them so you could get an proper rest, they had called your parents to let them know what happened to you. They had agreed on meeting them and their parents the next day so they could talk for an bit.

Your parents told them that your family is having an difficult time and, surprisingly, the twins aren't disgusted or even remotely happy about that. They want to help. The Coldwell family wants to help your parents get an good job, either working for them or for someone else.

You can't process all this knowledge. You just fall to the ground, you haven't properly eaten in a couple of days, as your parents couldn't afford too much. You couldn't understand what was happening.

Your parents helped you up, so you can sit with them and eat. This is just, such an weird situation, everyone in this room looks happy.

Everyone looks like one single big family having fun, and you just can't process all of this. Maybe they shouldn't have told so much information while you weren't fully recovered.

Is this an dream? It feels so weird.

You thought that this was for pure kindness.

But.

"- Can [Y/N] sleepover? We wanted to make some school work and well, have some fun with or friend! They deserve to have some fun!"

Oh, of course, well, you don't know what they really mean.

But, now you know.

That this wasn't an act of kindness just for nothing. But you don't know why they want to help you. They could just bring you to their home whenever they want.

Why is it different now?

. . .

Well, but at least they actually gave you some space this time, and you actually had fun. But still, you know that the twins aren't going to let you go away from them.

They want to protect you from harming yourself again. Even if it is by smothering you with affection. Even if it is by helping your family.

[ixeliema]

Okay this is going to be pretty personal and potentially triggering so I'm leaving that here at the top. I'm going to be discussing depression and self harm here and I will tag accordingly. I will not be specific or speak of it in detail because a lot of people read posts like these at their lowest points and it does nothing but hurt already very troubled people to read.

These bubbles are covering an injury I inflicted upon myself at work today after my manager called me in to a meeting with him to speak about the amount of missed days of work I'd taken in the last two-three weeks.

How it happened doesn't matter. The only context you need for it is that I missed four days due to a contagious illness and one day due to a stomach bug that had me physically unable to leave the bathroom. I work long hours and in my store's home department. I work hard and never do things 80% or lower at work and it's exhausting at times.

Well...yesterday I had a panic attack that lasted for almost four hours and knew I couldn't work in this state. I had been curling into a ball, screaming, sobbing, (tw) pulling my hair.

I called in and my manager told me we'd need to talk about my missed days. Fine. I accept that. Today I dreaded the inevitable call back and when it happened he told me that two of my customers had filed complaints on me within two days last week.

One I will admit is justified. He was talking about gun issues and complaining that retail stores should sell guns, meanwhile I am from a college that was shot up and I am fucking terrified of guns. I don't mind not selling them. Especially in light of El Paso recently.

The other was a lady who noticed I was sweaty and tired after having to manually enter her discounts for about 25 apparel items because her digital coupon wasn't ringing right and it was a system issue. I had an injury between my fingers at the time and all the typing to fix the prices was pulling apart my scab and I had begun to bleed through my bandage. At the end of the transaction, she made eye contact with me and asked "I'm sorry...are you IRRITATED with me?" I don't remember exactly what I said but I said something like "no ma'am I'm bleeding". Well apparently 'no' means I'm still a bitch who needed reported to her manager.

The first...fine. I was out of line there. I shouldn't have let him goad me on. But the second pisses me off. Not happy because three strikes on my record is cause for termination due to disregard for customer satisfaction. This sucks a lot. But then my manager talks about my missed days and why they happened. I mentioned my sicknesses and cited a literal rule (if you are contagious or having issues with bodily fluids don't come in" at him. Yesterday I told him my situation. I was unable to breathe. See. Anything. I cited my mental illness and told him it was very bad yesterday. He kind of brushed me off. (Which in itself fucking infuriates me bc mental health isn't a goddamn joke!)

Then he told me to evaluate myself and whether or not this job is right for me. I also have a physical injury and I require a brace. Even with it sometimes I have sore days and pain that I can't control due to walking about four to five miles a day at work. It sucks but with the brace I can survive. I need this job to live after all, and I don't mind the coworkers or the job itself. It just sucks when I'm working 48 hours in a row with a lot of mental and physical barriers to my success.

He told me to my face that if I didn't feel I was capable of doing the job to quit. And then he told me he needed someone "more reliable" for the position because of the business' needs.

I kind of broke at that point. And I blacked out into a relapse of my self harm after the meeting was through. I pride myself on two things: my sense of humor even in dark times (comes with the territory of mental illness), and the fact that I strive to be reliable. My manager telling me to my face that I wasn't reliable broke me.

See I would be more understanding if he hadn't just told me that five of my six missed days were perfectly acceptable. But after he learned of the last one amd why he kind of shifted gears. And I hated it very much.

He's worked for x corporation nearly 20 years and no one will question his authority. He works hard and is pretty good with his workers. Honestly he's a little sexist and clearly doesn't think mental illnesses are a big deal, but he's good at what he does. So hearing an authority figure (the type of person I've learned to fear because I'm never good enough) tells me I'm not one of the qualities I fucking FIGHT for...I broke.

But this story isn't why I wanted to post it. Yeah I could rant about the rude manager and the customers and that dumb "customer is always right" mentality (which they could prove wrong if they just looked up the security footage for the rude lady!)

No I'm here because when I got home from working 2-11...bordering tears and panic all day and sweatier than anyone living in Arizona right now...I hopped in the bath for a soak and to give myself time to heal from the long arduous day.

My mind has been full of intrusive thoughts about my worth and how I broke my streak of being clean from self harm and how that makes me a coward. That kind of joyous stuff.

I sat up to get my phone to text my friend and saw that my knee (where my injury is) was covered in bubbles.

I don't know why...but that means a lot to me right now. Like...I'm taking care of myself after probably the worst day I've had since my dad died. I'm taking time to heal. I'm trying to pick up the pieces of my soul after a long and painful day. And it felt like for a moment, the universe understood that looking at my wound hurt me as much as the wound itself hurt. It wanted me to not dwell on it.

Obviously this isn't a magic "I'm no longer depressed" moment but for me, seeing the bubbles...a sign (at least to me) of trying to take care of myself masking the pain of my depression and anxiety.

Today has been a very tough day for me with a lot of manic episodes and a lot of depressive ones, and though I can wear the face that I'm okay...it cracked a lot today and I let my ugly side seep out. And seeing the bubbles covering my wound I deadass cried about it, y'all.

This tells me that even on your worst days, taking care of yourself and trying to find time to recover can help you to heal. And I wanted to post this because I think this story might help someone. Even just one person. Maybe even just myself someday when out of the blue I check my (very small) tag for original posts.

The TLDR of this is that this occurence kind of showed me that taking care of yourself...even in tiny, seemingly insignificant ways, can really help you to not dwell on pain as much.

And before someone hijacks this and says this won't apply to everyone...I know. But I hope someone sees this image of bubbles on a goddamn kneecap and thinks to themselves that they ought to take better care of themselves after a bad day. After a relapse. After feeling so defeated you considered suicide. Consider healing. Consider trying to help yourself, even just in one small way.

That's about all I have to say other than "fuck I work the next three days and I'm not stoked to go fake a smile as a cashier for 27 more hours even if I'm being paid"

[maddmuses]

Responding to the Conan thing, there seems to be a lot of "OH MY GOSH YOU'RE SO EXHAUSTING STOP COMPLAINING ABOUT SHOWS/MOVIES/COMICS/ETC" backlash. Which I think is dumb to be honest. Why do you care if I rant? If you like the show, movie, comic, game, whatever then that's fine it shouldn't bother you if I don't because people are different. Just ignore the complainers or maybe have a conversation stating your opinions to them. If they try and be an obnoxious troll then that's on them.

lol so here’s some real tea here, so let me use a mutou icon for it

That’s this anon’s message @ who I’m about to talk about because not only is it very valid, it’s very true.

Incoming lengthy rant about fandom, art, creators, creative works, and fan culture as a whole, under the cut.

So a prevailing group of issues in fandom, artistic communities, fan communities, and the like is interpretation of critical analysis, difference in taste,  simple dislike of a work, and malicious mudslinging. Once upon a time, people were very good at drawing distinctions between these, and being able to call differences between them out.

However, with trolling, changes in the times, and the general social landscape shifting, it’s become more difficult for some people to be able to tell these things apart. 

A big issue is first seen in some communities when a creator, or group of them, decides that they do not want any sort of criticism to exist in their community. Barbara Dunkelman had a misstep in April regarding this, and did a very poor job defending her position through the exchange:

Here Barbara initially posts a tweet that is a more diplomatic variant of “don’t like, don’t watch” which as we all know in fanfiction communities indicates that the creator is simply not ready to take any sort of criticism, constructive or otherwise, on their work.

Whether this was fully what she wished to communicate or not is hard to tell, since Twitter is such a bad platform for conveying long, complex, thoughts or opinions in a single post. But she does later go on to contradict herself, by indicating the she thinks criticism is valid, despite already saying that negative opinions ruin a product’s quality for others. Other comments in this same thread point out this fallacy, and it’s an indication of the problem in some cases. People like Barbara can’t tell the difference, although in her case the team on RWBY is often flooded with fan reception, so it can certainly feel overwhelming.

I don’t speak to the validity of artists who accept and don’t accept different kinds of criticism because it’s complicated, and certain people have different reasons for producing a creative work. I certainly don’t publish my writings on this blog for anyone’s approval, but for my own sanity and creative honing. But ultimately, the point of me even bringing this up is that Barbara DOES group together dislike, negative critical analysis, difference in taste, and mudslinging all into one, and says we shouldn’t do any of it. Is this valid? No, but it does indicate the root of the bigger topic.

Fans who see this type of dialogue often then assume, or make the connection (especially in younger fans who are still developing at a much faster rate and might hold onto these opinions even subconsciously for much longer than an adult might) that creators don’t like criticism. If criticism is something a creator doesn’t like, then criticism itself must be bad. Why would criticism be bad?

Recently I was removed from a youtuber’s discord server by a moderator for criticizing boku no hero academia’s anime adaptation, specifically the modification of the character’s body types to be fairly uniform, particularly in the pool episode, but it’s an issue that people on the internet draw all the time. A particularly glaring example is Ochaco in the cheerleading scenes of the anime, vs. the same scenes in the manga. Her body type is modified extremely, for little apparent reason other than to pander to the male gaze. That doesn’t save time, work, or money, and in fact was probably more costly in the long-run to do.

Animation is an expensive and complex process, this is true, and even poor quality animations could have had a lot of work put into them, but limitations of the team, timeframe, and budget, and in many cases this is the fault of the industry, and not the animators themselves. But at the end of the day, if a product is still of a poor quality, or makes glaringly bad creative decisions for reasons that you can’t really discern, it’s bad, in my opinion.

Apparently this is not the case, and any criticism of an artist is bad and garbage because it invalidates whatever hard work DID go into the product. I don’t feel this way, I feel like if others still enjoy the work then there’s validity to what was done, and it it did anything for anyone, then art does what it’s supposed to do.

If art can touch one person, then it’s done its job.

However, fan opinion is not this, and that in fact speaking poorly of a work or a decision is a malicious attempt to ruin it for others. And I think that’s where Conan’s skit is coming from, ironic as it may be, the perspective of those who feel that the complaints and criticisms of the Game of Thrones season/series finale is somehow malicious and/or whining. It’s misguided, because a lot of the critique is valid, and comes from a place of disappointment. And it’s okay to be disappointed by things if they don’t meet your expectations, it’s human to not like when things don’t go the way we anticipate them going.

However, on the other end, there are remarks like Game of Thrones had been a waste of time thanks to the last season, and that there should be a remake of the last season lead by GRRM and etc.

These types of criticisms aren’t really criticisms as much as it’s mudslinging. Are the feelings from similar places? Yes, but the latter is decidedly more needlessly hurtful, and often have the qualities of something more entitled, almost as if the person writing that post is somehow an owner of the media that they enjoy. Unfortunately enjoying art doesn’t make you an owner of that art, and the creator’s decisions aren’t ever recourse for you to attack them, or anyone who worked on that art.

And ultimately you don’t have to be a super-fan to not like GoT’s last seasons. Regular fans who have taste can hate it too ;)

[quirkhearted-m]

"That'd be accurate to say."

He was aware of how he was perceived by the other heroes as this "prickly", "standoffish", and even "unheroic" person. How could they not, though? He strictly worked alone, hardly ever showed up to hero events, and was nowhere to be seen on the Hero Billboard Ranking. Especially now. With how open he was about his vitriol towards hero society as a whole, how he stayed far away from the typical limelight every hero scrambled for, and to not get him started on the HPSC. There was a bitter satisfaction upon hearing the Commission had been dismantled, he wouldn't lie.

And now, here he was, defending a "dangerous criminal" with every fiber of his being. Going to all kinds of meetings, court hearings, avoiding the media like the plague. Leaving him more emotionally exhausted than anything by the end of the day. It'd be worth it, though. She'd get her justice. He'd make sure of it. Make it up to her, let her know she at least has someone on her side. Although, he'd be the most unlikely person to do that, but he would gladly remain standing by her.

Yes, she did commit a crime and perhaps she shouldn't have gone as far as she did. That was the only criticism he could make. But. The pressure that drove her to that point (something he admittedly still berates himself for not talking with her about) was far more understandable. Oh, what he'd give, with the knowledge he had now, to be alone with the HSPC head himself. Hell, he might even resort to outright using his Quirk on the man, should he get under Kai's skin enough with how he talked about her. Giving him a much messier end than Kaina did- That wasn't important now. No time to waste on fantasies like that.

He'd never forget the sheer, unbridled relief that flooded him when Taishiro agreed. Thanks to further persuasion from Tenko, bringing up a very valid point. The environment there was made to take in those who truly needed a stable place. Surrounding them with those who'd support them. It was the first option that popped into his head. Well, of course, there was his own newly-created Agency. But... that one was filled with former criminals. As if his reputation hadn't sunk far enough with making that choice to rehabilitee those men. But the majority of them were turning around for the better, making themselves useful as heroes or otherwise helping out around the building.

Still... he'd rather not send her to a place that could worsen both of their reputations.

He shook his head at her thanking him. "I'm just doing what I feel is right. You don't have to do anything to thank me. You being alive is enough for me now."

He could understand her nervousness. Trusting people after such a disaster would be near-impossible for most. Yet, she seemed to trust him. There was a sense of honor yet also slight irony attached to that, knowing he of all people who she held in high regard. Him, someone who was the most unlikely to be giving his all for someone. Unlikely to care about her as much as he does. One wouldn't know it at first glance. But if one looked closer, they could tell easily. Whether it be the lightest touches to her shoulder, the brief glances to reassure her, how he softened the smallest amount when he laid eyes on her. He cared. A lot.

"Exhausting, really. Try standing in a room full of people ho disagree with you on everything you say. Plus, the room's stuffy and often a lot of people packed inside." It had been difficult, she was right about that. Having to be in one room with all those people, either eyeing him with scrutiny or talking badly about Kaina herself in his presence. Coupled with that, this was far more interaction that was he used to outside of hero work. Headache-inducing, to say the least. You're doing it for her, remember that. These fools can talk all they like. They won't matter in the end, was what he had to remind himself of every time he felt like leaving the room.

A look of concern flashed on his face at her words, before he sighed, head propped up on the back of his hand. "No. It's not. I know what's rotten, and it's certainly not you. Sure, you have some stains on you, but... I intend to clean those. Clear your name and all that entails."

Body once again leaned forward, listening to her with unwavering focus. A slight widening of his eyes was the sole response she earned, yet something told him he'd be thinking about it long after hearing it. "...Thank you. Good to know it's mutual." Now that he thought about it, it wouldn't be fair for him to shoulder this alone, and wrong to deny with how strongly she insisted on being there for him as well. So, as much as he wanted to deny her, he nodded. "Sounds fair. I'll be sure to complain about every last vile thing those fools have to say. Hope you're ready for it., now you've given me permission to."

Like always. He managed a small smile himself at that. Sliding into something familiar in the midst of this mess. A respite for both of them. "That... sounds good to me, Kaina."

[ @tiiradora — cont. from ✦ ]

It was quiet in the Fat Gum Agency. Late at night, too. Yet, here was Kai, sat across from her in the lounge. Face was stoic as ever, yet his body was angled towards her, to silently let her know he was paying attention to what she told him.

Their connection was an odd, unexpected one. Starting out as a mere hero team up, meant to be temporary. Resulting in a small rivalry forming, him seeing her as a way to up his own skill, make himself seem like the superior hero. How weird it must've looked to others; Kai Chisaki teamed up with someone. He could still hear the other heroes joking about it when they first caught wind of it, only for them to instantly shut themselves up at the sight of his glare.

Their team-ups initially were rocky. Her "haughtily demanding things of him", which irritated him. This, this was why he detested joining forces with other heroes. Why want to join forces when he could easily accomplish probably just as efficiently on his own, not to mention the oftentimes clashing of viewpoints/ways of doing things getting in the way. His and Kaina's team-up seemed to be going that route...

Until she came back after successfully nabbing a duo of villains (one going after her and the other creeping up behind him), him about to criticize her for a rash decision, only to be stopped by her genuinely checking on him. Asking if he was okay. Saying she found his skill with his Quirk impressive. Catching him surprisingly off guard momentarily, which he quickly covered up with a cold response.

That was the start of it. Them gradually warming up to each other (more like him warming up to her), shocking himself with how he wound up truly looking forward to meeting her before they went on their designated patrol route. How smoothly they worked together, Quirk-wise.

Then, she was gone. Arrested. Her absence affecting him far worse than he'd expected. Something did seem off with her during the last few days together. He'll always kick himself for not asking what was wrong. All because of his stupid emotional ineptitude. He didn't know how to approach her, so he... didn't. He could've subtly mentioned something seemed off with her in the days leading up to the HPSC incident. But he didn't.

That was why strove so hard to make up for that the moment she returned to his life. Healing her with his Quirk was the first step, but he had to do more. He owed it to her. Which was why he defended her so strongly, showed her the humanity and respect she deserved. Of course, he knew her choice to eliminate the HPSC's head was obviously wrong to do. But it was due to the pressure and the assassinations the Commission made her carry out. It all weighed on her and made her crack. That, he understood and felt sympathy for.

A disgruntled expression formed, eyes averting somewhat. "I'm only kind to those who deserve it." Only for him turn right back to face her upon hearing she felt the need to thank him, expression a bit softer. "You don't have to thank me. I was... only making up for his own mistake."

Oh, right. Taishiro's Agency. The Agency made up of those who had experience with the media talking bad about them, who came together to support those who needed it, who took in those that already had sometimes less-than-stellar reputations.

He remembered going up to Taishiro, trying to keep his composure yet he was certain his nervous fidgeting made it all the more obvious just how much this meant to him. How much she meant to him. And then him managing to hide his relief upon the man agreeing.

"I have confidence in it. He's already agreed to serve with your parole. Taishiro's a stubborn man, as am I. We — I —won't let you be without some kind of support." Conviction, clear as day, in his voice. And if things didn't work out there? If Taishiro somehow messed this up? He frowned at the thought, gaze averting once again, arms folding over his chest as he leaned back in his seat.

He shook his head with a sigh, ultimately returning his gaze to her. Gold eyes were warm despite his expression. "I said I'm kind to those who deserve it, did I not? I wouldn't go as far as I did for you for just anyone. You... mean a lot to me." Okay, he'd admittedly struggled a bit to say that. But hopefully the meaning wasn't lost to her. "So, yes, I can promise that to you. You have my word. And I'm not easily swayed, you know that."