#the one thing i think might be different here is when he says 'I'd choose servitude over oblivion any day'

[romanarose]

Safe With Me

Eddie Brock x fem!reader (Some Venom x reader)

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Summary: You open up to Eddie about being sexually assaulted. He takes care of it.

Warnings: mentions of past sexual violence. Actually literal violence lol but its okay because he's a bad guy. talking about how hard it is to report and victim blaming.

dividers by @kodaswrld

************

Eddie held you close on the couch, letting you tell you're story the way you wanted to. You sat straddled on his lap, resting your head on his shoulder because you said this made you feel extra safe. Like he was all around you. Sometimes, if things were extra rough, venom would come out like a blanket of sorts around you, wrapping you up in his warmth. Today, you thought it might be overwhelming.

Eddie knew something had happened to you, the way you were skiddish when you first started dating. And not that he was complaining, but it was a little odd to wait 2 months to have sex. Still, that was your choice and you were worth waiting.

He wasn't an idiot, he could read the signs in your behavior, so he made sure you're first time together was filled with the most explicate consent you could dream of, and was always conscious of your non-verbal ques in bed. Eddie liked to think he was always the kind of guy to pay attention to that, but with you, he was extra certain.

As he got to know you, you made passing references of a bad past, and he let you know he was ready to listen when you were ready to talk, but you were a private person and wanted to wait. You and him talked about exes, and nothing stood out.

Finally, a few months in, you and him were having a movie night. Rewatching your favorite Disney princess movie Eddie was nice enough to indulge you in and Venom was thoroughly enjoying, when you pause it.

"Can I talk to you?"

At first Eddie thought you were about to dump him, but when you looked at him with sad eyes, he knew it was something more serious.

You sniffle against his wet sleeve. "That's it, I guess..." You said as you finish telling the story. "I know, *sniff* i should've reported it but... I dunno this was when 50 Shades was coming out and I was afraid he'd say I just liked it r-rough..." A fresh little bought of tears come, and Eddie is quick to rub your back in comfort.

"Ah, shit, hey now... I know it ain't like that..." He presses a gentle kiss to your hair. "We believe you, baby. Trust me, I'm not tryna scare no one away from reporting, but man... it can be fucking brutal."

You nod against him. "And, and I was just barely having sex, you know? The idea of a stranger doing the rape kit, having to tell a hundred different people what happened knowing they don't believe me... and I couldn't really prove I'd said no... and god, having to tell my parents?!?! I couldn't do it Eddie! i just couldn't do it!"

"Shhhh, shhhh... it's okay, I know, I know... you made the best choice for yourself."

You sit up, rubbing your red and puffy eyes. "Now I see colleges have this thing, well, some of them, the You Have Options Program where you can report and choose the level. Like if you want to report but not press charges, or you aren't sure if you want to press charges but they can gather evidence... or maybe you just want something on record incase they offend again, you know?"

"That's good, that's real good baby. i think they'll help a lot of people." As a journalist, Eddie had reported on many rape cases, or times people had tried to cover up sexual abuse of different kinds. he'd seen many young girls crying, expressing the same feelings you had. He knew better than to say 'it's not your fault' even if he still had the urge. Instead, he thumbed away a tear as you looked down at him. "We believe you, we don't think any differently of you, okay? We're here to help you."

You smile at him, fondness in your eyes. "Thanks for listening, Edide. And Venom." You lean down and give him a chaste kiss on his plush lips. "I love you."

"I love you too."

The next day...

Eddie is furiously typing on his laptop while you're at work.

"Okay, so she said college, he went to college with her."

Venom excitedly shouts out the name of your old school, happy he remembered, but Eddie shook his head, frustrated. "That's a big fucking school buddy, we need to narrow this down." he pulled up school records. "She said they were in theater, right?"

"YES! AND HE WAS IN HER SPANSIH CLASS!"

"Right! Fuck yeah! and she took Spanish her freshman year because she wanted to 'get it out of the way'. Okay I can narrow down the year, look up students who took Spanish that semester... then i just gott pull up the theater pamphlet... she said he was an actor... alright, now we just gotta cross reference the names of people who acted in that production with spanish class students..."

10 minutes later they had a match.

Pulling him up, he matched the description of the student to a T. He would have a senior at the time, same hair, skin tone, facial features...

"Now, we just gotta find him."

That didn't take long either. Eddie was able to find everything he needed. His job, his home address, everything was right there.

That night, he gave you a little kiss on the forehead as he left for the night. He told you he had something to investigate for work, and you didn't ask any questions.

"And you're sure you don't wanna come over after you're done?" You give him a pout. He hated to leave you alone, everything you'd trusted him with made him just want to watch over you all the time... but who knew how messy this would get?

"I might be out late baby, i don't wanna wake yuh at 4 am. I'll bring you lunch tomorrow, how 'bout that?"

that makes you smile. Food usually did.

"Okay. Lunch tomorrow it is."

The house was way too nice for someone like him, someone who hurt innocent younger girls. He was a corporate executive too, and Eddie was sickened to find he'd had a string of bad luck keeping assistants and interns, no doubt preying on more vulnerable young girls, using his power to keep them complacent. Men like that never changed. He wasn't gonna feel bad.

The light turned on the the living kitchen, revealing where Eddie sat drinking his expensive whiskey.

"Your security is shit, man."

He looked shocked, dropping his briefcase and freezing in fear. Eddie figured its not often he's the powerless one. He was going to let him cook in his adrenalin.

"Whatever you want, you can have it."

But Eddie just shook his head, standing up. "I don't want nothing here but you."

"i have-"

Eddie interrupted him with your name, "Remember her? Freshman girl you raped in college? Or does that not narrow it down enough?"

He chuckled nervously, raising his hands and backing up. "Listen man, you her husband? i don't know what she told you, but i swear to god she wanted it."

"Shut the hell up."

"Begged me for it!"

"Oh yeah? That why she had a black eye and a busted lip after?"

"Hey," he shrugged, trying to play it cool like he wasn't about to dash for the door. "What can I say, she liked it rou-" His words turned into a scream as Venom took over the body, biting off his head before he could say another word about you.

Eddie's face popped from behind the goo. "Venom! i had a whole speech planned!"

"TOO LATE! I was tired of him talking!"

He rolled his eyes but hey, what could he do about it now? Nothing. At least the asshole was dead, couldn't hurt anymore women.

The next day, at lunch time...

Baby <3: Meet me at my place, I went home early.

Eddie Boo: Everything okay?

Baby <3: Just come please?

When Eddie let himself into you're apartment to find you sitting on the couch with your arms crossed, eyes wet.

"baby, are you oke-"

"Do you want to explain to me why, a few days after I tell you I was raped, he ends up dead with his head ripped off?"

Eddie blinked. "Uhhhh.... coincidence?"

You stand, walking over to him. "Venom, got anything to say to me?"

Venoms head popped out behind Eddie. "WE ARE NOT SORRY AND HE TASTED DELICIOUS!"

"Venom!" You gently flick him. "Eddie, why would you do that?"

"Ahhh, come on baby, you know he deserved it! I'm not gonna apoligize for killing a rapist, and i don't feel bad!"

Eddie watched your face soften, lip quivering a bit. "I know. I know he deserved it I just... it's just a lot, right now..."

"Ohhh baby...." Eddie took you into his arms as you began to cry again. "Do you feel guilty? Is that it? Cause this was all me, nothing to do with you."

You sob into his strong chest. "I can't believe you love me this much."

His heart almost broke at that. "Of course I do! baby, don't you know we'd do anything for you? We'd break a guys finger off for look'n at yuh wrong, of course we'd kill for you."

Eddie scooped you up, carrying you over to the couch where he sat you down on his lap. "You're gonna be safe with us, always. You know that don't you? We're always gonna protect you. never gonna have to worry about anything again."

"LETHAL PROTECTOR!"

You chuckle in his arms, and Eddie holds you close. "Yeah, the lethal protector. No ones ever gonna hurt you like that again."

OKAY THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING EDDIE/VENOM

Eddie will be a part of the team in my very gay series The Prodigals and maybe has gay sex with marc spector who knows! yet to be determined. but there will be a lot of gay sex. logan and wade, logan and scott, scott and kurt. It will be 99% gay.

Anyway!!!! thanks for reading!!!! i love fics were rapists die so I thought eddie was appropriate! I saw venom for the first time at the start of the month, literally watched one and two the day before i went to see three in theaters. CRIED

if anyone has any good eddie series, something quality im looking for a masterpiece here! eddie/venom is 100% welcome! so is gay shit.

If you are new to my blog just coming in from this fic, I mostly write Logan Howlett, and oscar isaac/pedro pascal characters. Mostly fem! reader but i like to dabble in other stuff, like trans readers or trans characters, lots of gay shit.

Anyway, hi if you're new!

Have a great day!

I wrote this after already writing a chapter of rooms on fire, and after doing a bunch of homework AND battling bronchitis soooooo plz be patient my writing isnt the best in the first place, i type and spell very badly.

[podcastenthusiast]

So did they get rid of this early access scene where Astarion starts to get sick from the parasite too?

I'm guessing the same night Tav has a fever and Lae'zel tries to kill you. Because I love it. It's such a good scene but it's never come up in game. :(

[dceasesd]

why juni ba’s the boy wonder has my favorite jason characterization of any contemporary comic run: a needlessly in-depth analysis (pt.3)

go check out part 1 and part 2 if you'd like! this is a long one, sorry guys.

if you haven't already i'd recommend you check out pt. 1 & pt. 2 (linked above), but if you haven't checked them out i've been going over some of the main things people have been criticizing ba's characterization for: 1. the typical boiling down of jason's character to "the angry one" 2. his lack of strategy going into the fight with the demon is out-of-character 3. the neighbor's kid interaction

alright, so this last point is purely based off of one page of the entire comic: the one where the child of one of jason's neighbors is dragged inside his home when his mother see's jason coming.

first off, i love this page. it might be my favorite page in the entire issue. everything about it is great. just thought i needed to say that.

anyway, there's some people who are seeing this page and reading it as "jason protects kids! that's one of his big things! why are they scared of him?"

here's the thing, though: the kid isn't scared of jason, the mom is. the kid is literally playing dress up as the red hood-- he's not scared of jason, if anything he's trying to replicate him. little kids dress up as their heroes all the time; why is this kid any different? it doesn't really make sense for the kid to dress up of something he's scared of (not everyone is as weird bruce wayne), especially a real person that could be a real threat rather than a concept. i doubt you see many kids in gotham dressing up as the joker or something, because that's just asking for trouble.

the dress-up honestly seems like a ploy for attention to me. the kid clearly knows that red hood lives in his building (which is honestly so funny. take off the mask jason you're giving you're position away (actually this is a really good instance for analysis but i'm determined to not go on a tangent)). if the kid knows red hood lives in his building, what better way to get his attention that dressing up as him and playing pretend? if the kid was scared of him, he wouldn't want to draw that sort of attention to himself. if he had a sort of hero-worshippy thing going on like i suspect, then he would want to get jason's attention. to sum it up,

it's the mom who pulls him away when jason nears, because she either a) perceives him as a threat, b) doesn't want her kid to try and replicate him even more, or, the most likely option, both! the kid isn't scared of him, but the mother believes they should be.

once again, we come back to the whole perception vs. reality theme i talked about in part one! we've come full circle, everyone!

when looking at the neighborhood's perspective of the red hood, ba gives us a few contradictory examples. there's the kid and the mother, obviously, but there's also a slew of other citizens who interact with him at the beginning of the issue, both in fear and camaraderie.

the unhoused man and the people outside of his building clearly have a familiarity and are comfortable with him, while the shopkeeper is terrified and literally has a banned poster on his wall featuring jason (i am so curious what he did to deserve that, if he even did anything at all). from this, it appears that jason's reputation teeters between fearful and familiar-- a sentiment that also colors jason's relationship with his family.

furthermore, this concept underscores just how lonely jason is-- one of the only good relationships he had in his current life was his fucking landlord, for gods sake, and he's dead.

i think it's important to note that jason doesn't respond to the friendly greetings from the men-- he could attempt to build camaraderie, the roots are there, but he chooses not to. he could work to try and show the mother that her son is safe with him, but he chooses not to. why? jason is obviously lonely (as ba states in the panel below) and he caves pretty easily when damian asks him for help (both of them are so desperate for human interaction its tragic). so why does he distant himself from the community?

obviously it is in part due to the vigilante lifestyle, but it is also jason's perception of himself and how he believes others perceive him, especially in regards to his family (ba is literally hitting readers in the head with that theme baseball bat).

he doesn't see that the kid with the mask looks up to him, all he sees is the mother pulling him away. he sees the banned poster in the store. and, as ba narrates, "he was sure he'd been forgotten about" by his family. utrh is jason's twisted way of attempting to reach out and connect with bruce, and obviously that doesn't work-- so he chooses loneliness over rejection.

like in part one, though, damian refutes this idea by describing bruce's perspective, showing how what jason believes differs from actuality. bruce hasn't forgotten about him and doesn't hate him, as he suspected, but instead harbors guilt over the situation and desires to make it better, which jason must come to understand to be able to open the locked door and begin to move past his trauma.

so, that's what the little kid in the red hood outfit looks like to me. i actually have a lot more i'd like to say about the boy wonder, especially in regards to the whole "door to my past life" thing and what ba does with lighting and blocking in his artwork, so i may do a little post on that as well! i was gonna try and shove it into this one, but i've run out of room! i hope you guys liked my analysis, if you'd like to chat about the boy wonder or any other comics, my dms, asks, and reblogs are happily open! thanks for reading! :)) <3

pt. 1 / pt. 2

[anni1309-blog]

kinda thinking about stepbrother felix taking reader to the pub and noticing someone's hitting on her so he gets jealous and takes it out on her later if ykwim hehe

oh I love this, here you go 🎀

felix catton! stepbrother x reader

summary: felix is jealous and takes it out on you

warnings: nsfw, unprotected sex, dom/sub, mean dom felix, size kink, slight innocence kink, dacryphilia, choking, spanking, slightly toxic felix, creampie

It was an usual saturday night at the pub. or so you thought. farleigh announced that an old friend of his is visiting and joining you tonight.

you were off-limits to everyone of felix's friends. he made sure of that. being your stepbrother, he was already protective by nature, so he would show that you were his with no shame whatsoever. he would never admit to his jealousy when boys where eyeing you too long but he definitely would pull you closer and shoot them a dirty look.

yes tonight was different.

normally you and felix arrive to the pub together, but since studies are getting tougher, he caught up to you during lunch and promised to join a bit later, pressing a soft kiss on your temple moving to place lots of little kisses on your face moving to your jaw and neck making you giggle.

to call your relationship purely sibling hood would be a big understatement. the way you are so close, students usually think that you were a couple. denying feelings for eachother would be futile.

entering the pub, you immediately spotted your and felix's friends including farleigh at your usual spot. smiling you greeted your friends, noticing a new face, you concluded it was farleighs friend.

greeting him, you politely extend your hand with a smile which he took looking you up and down holding your hand quite long, stroking the back of your hand.

"my my, good looks must run in this family, farleigh has told me so much about you, it's a pleasure, my name is marcus.”

his eyes set on you hungrily, giving you a slight shudder feeling a little uneasy in his presence, but choosing to ignore it for now you return a slight forced smile.

while you were chatting, you felt eyes watching you, knowing it was marcus starring. giving him the benefit of the doubt you still ignore the bad feeling, rationalizing it by you just being tense by all the studying that you've been doing.

you decided that a drink would definitely ease your agitation. you excuse yourself to the bar.

the moment you uttered that word marcus almost exclaimed that he would be joining you, attracting some strange looks.

before you could order something marcus barged in ordering two jägerbombs for you and him.

you hesitated "ah that's alright, I wanted to get a-" marcus interrupted you again "no need, this is waaay better and you owe me this one basically, since farleigh didn't tell me that he had such an incredibly hot sister, otherwise we would have met earlier for sure" he sent you a wink making your skin crawl.

chuckling uncomfortably you just stood there in silence looking at your feet. you are so overwhelmed by this situation, not having felix close. since it was also farleighs friend you wanted to stay friendly and polite, but marcus was making that hard for you and you were too shy to say something.

he was chatting on and on about his family's wealth, while you just nodded, wasn't like he was planning to ask you something or letting you talk. what you noticed was that he keep leaning closer and closer, his hand suddenly landing on your thigh alerting your attention.

"what a sweet little thing you are, hm? if we'd met earlier I'd definitely would have had my way with you" he whispered in a low creepy tone in your ear, his hand crept higher. you froze. forgot how to breath.

then you felt a big hand pulling you back slightly, looking back you were never so relieved to see felix. melting into his touch, you looked up to see his face. you've never seen him like this. to anyone else, felix might look normal to them, but you saw his concerned look, glazing back into your eyes, but changed immediately to a look of intense fury when narrowed his eyes at marcus. his jaw was flexing when he extended to introduce himself, knuckles white shaking his hand. it wasn't hard for marcus to be taller than you but felix stood like an intimidating dark shadow over him.

"I was looking everywhere for you sweetheart, are you alright?" felix sat down giving you loving and reassuring gaze while pulling you to sit on is lap gabbing your waist tightly. you were sure that he was having a hard time not losing it right now and punching that guy in his face for touching his girl.

I gave him a slight nod, taking his hand and intertwining your fingers to calm down a bit, not being able to fake it infront of felix, since you were still quite shaky.

marcus gave a condescending snicker "oh you're her step brother righttt, don't worry buddy I took good care of this doll" winking towards you giving your knee a squeeze.

this is what did it for felix. his eyes stared at him dangerously "well 'buddy' I'll tell you what" leaning towards him "if you don't put your disgusting little cubby fingers away from her in 2 seconds, I'm gonna break them off of you, do I make myself clear?" he almost growled.

marcus paled. he tried chuckling it off sheepishly putting his hands away "yeah, no dude, of course, didn't know it was your girl, my bad, I was about to leave anyways" and turned his back returning to the table more quickly.

you let out a breath, calming down immediately, turning to felix and smiling up at him to thank him "thank you-“ but he stopped you grabbing you by the upper arm and dragging you away while muttering "you shouldn't thank me, you'll be sorry for this" while still guiding you towards his dorm.

"wait what, lix this wasn't my fault, he came up to me and then-I" you anxiously tried explaining but he cut you off again stopping pulling you close to him and looking down at you furiously "I don't give a fuck, you could've walked away but no you decided to be a little slut, so now you have to deal with the consequences", you shivered slightly at his harsh tone. tears well up your eyes as felix continued walking down the hallway, his grip tight, you knew he got jealous quickly but this was new. "felix you are hurting me" you sniffed quietly but he ignored you.

he opens the door to his dorm, pulls you inside towards his bed and practically throws you on it. when he saw your tears, he cooed condescending "aww little baby cries now that she behaved like a whore but don't worry I'll give you an according punishment" he took your face in one hand and wipes the tears away while smiling down sardisticly and quickly slaps your face harshly.

shocked by this move, you take your red cheek in your hand, looking down with an ashamed gaze.

"what? you think l'd let this go? letting you flirt with all these disgusting men? just when I leave you alone for once. this will teach you a lesson" he said angrily.

you nodded and so you moved to remove your clothing slowly and resume to climb on the bed to sit on your thighs obediently. this wasn't new of course. felix let his anger out on you once before and he liked you following his rules so this was your way of obeying him. secretly you enjoyed this too as you soiled your thighs with your wet pussy, your nipples erect and cheeks blushed.

felix groaned at this sight. "well at least you are good for something, what a good little whore" he inhaled deeply as he removed his pants and underwear. so you instinctively moved closer to him to make him feel good. you reach out but felix slapped your hand away "no way, you don't get to touch me, this is your punishment remember?" you whine desperately as he spat in his hand starting to stroke his already hard big cock from base to tip, precum already oozing out as he gripped it tightly looking down at your body, groaning lowly.

feeling super needy at this sight you turn your heal to your sleek pussy to give it some relief, as you whined more and more. but felix noticed this instantly. he grabbed your waist turned onto you towards the end of the bed and spun you around, so your ass was presented to him. felix spoke harshly "you don't get anything tonight, no touching and of course not touching yourself." his hands landed on your ass cheeks "you're gonna count all my spanks, and if you're missing one we're starting over again" he promised darkly.

his first spank was so hard and fast that the sound jumped off the walls. you didn't expect it to hurt so much but also giving so much pleasure so you moan out a shaky 'one’. the other ones were equally as harsh till your ass cheeks were all red and bruised. he put his large hand on your cheek to finally take one in his hand massaging it tightly as he chuckled "what a dirty little thing, you enjoy this don't you? you enjoy when your big brother is putting you into place hm?" he moves forward to my face taking my cheeks in his hand squeezing till my lips puckered and placed a soft kiss on them.

you softened as your glossy eyes looked at him in desperation for some relief. he let out a patronizing snicker as he put his fingers between your legs letting them move easily through your puffy lips "fuck you're wet, someone's eager huh, I'm gonna take it out on you now and you will take it, won't you? you are my good girl after all." you wiggle backwards trying to get more friction crying out moans.

felix harshly put a hand on your throat holding you down firmly, restricting your blood flow making you dizzy as he spoke with a growl "no no, you're just gonna lay here pretty, and I'm gonna fuck you till I'm satisfied" he let go of your neck and you nodded obediently.

he took his hard cock to finally place it on your pussy and teasing your hole making hot tears fall from your face sobbing silently "please lix, I need it." he ignored you, stroking his cock through your wet folds, hardening further seeing your tears.

with one strong trust he rammed himself through your tight hole not going slowly for you, as he is so big and girthy he immediately hit your cervix going in balls deep as you felt them slapping against your pussy. you moan and mewl, he was stretching you out deliciously it almost hurt.

“stoo much lix, you’re so big I-“ you blabber out feeling overwhelmed with the feeling of fullness.

“I know y’can, your tiny hole is throbbing so much begging to be fucked, that’s what you wanted hm?” he hummed, looking down at your heat brushing his fingers over it , gritting his teeth he muttered “fuck you’re so tight.”

his pace was aggressivly fast to say the least. every time you would tell him to slow down, he'd only go faster, pounding into you, laughing breathlessly at your whines and the tears on your cheeks.

felix tugs your hair to force you to look up at him pushing you with each hard thrust deeper into the mattress and whispers in your ear.

"what would marcus think? seeing you like this? what would he think? would he still want your slutty little pussy knowing l've been inside it? knowing I owe you? knowing that l've cum so deep inside you? completely ruining you for you for anyone else huh? he could never satisfy you the way I can.”

you whimper at his words your cunt contracting around him, resulting into him rutting and forcing his cock even faster and deeper into you, groaning deeply.

"lix I can- can't" you stutter out, your mind completely empty and clouded by pleasure and feeling his dick so deep, you could feel it in your stomach. your head is buried in the pillows as your back arches and you swallow him deeper. you're utterly wrecked.

"you can. and you will" his pace becoming more sloppy as he ruts feral inside of you, as he uses you to to his own pleasure.

"please lix let me cum" you let out a high pitch moan

"and I need your cum please" you start to beg desperately to finish as you start to feel this familiar knot in your stomach.

he grips your throat and pulls you up tighter until you're wholeheartedly cut off from your air supply. "such a good girl for begging, maybe I'll give you just that" he says panting his orgasm close, as he puts his thumb on your clit pushing it harshly. "cum for me" he commands.

this was it for you as you started to see white and clamp and squeeze tight around him pulling your thighs together as this big wave of pleasure overcame you.

this reaction triggered his climax so he gave you one last really strong thrust as he let out an animalistic groan, his hips stutter against yours and you feel him twitch inside you and his cum coating your insides, making you feel so full and satisfied.

he stayed inside as he leaned forward and whispered, caressing your hair.

"remember you belong to me and only me."

aftercare in the next one <3

[hrhmimieucliffe]

NSFW Alphabet with Doctor Zayne - ❄️

Minors DNI (Obviously)

Wanted to do this because I've never done an NSFW Alphabet before. Hope my fellow Zayne stans see my vision and agree with me though.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after the act) - Very affectionate and attentive. He would clean you up, help you relax, maybe even give you a massage if he went too hard. 🤫

B = Body part (favourite body part their own or their lovers) - He couldn't just choose one spot. He loves to kiss the palms of your hands when you touch and grab at his face whilst he's thrusting into you slowly and deeply. He loves to place gentle and loving kisses on your neck. He loves to run his hands all over your body, specifically your torso, grabbing fistfuls of your breast gently.

C = Cum (anything that has to do with it) - He doesn't really like the mess, so he'll be sure to clean it up as soon as possible. He'll also advise you to use the toilet, as that's what you're supposed to do after sex, then maybe you can have a shower... maybe he'd join you.

D = Dirty secret (Pretty self-explanatory) - He may act indifferent, but he secretly loves watching you walk and strut around in lingerie when you're in the bedroom. He slowly strips it off you with care, as he doesn't want to ruin it of course. He loves to see you in it, and treats it with care. His favourite part is definitely slowly taking it off you and revealing every inch of your perfect body. He definitely also loves it when you tease him in different ways.

E = Experience (do they know what they’re doing) - Come on now...🧍🏾‍♀️Though it isn't his area of expertise, I'd say as a Doctor in general, he might know a thing or two about stimulation. Even if he isn't experienced. 🤫

F = Favorite position - (Idk many positions so I'll just go by something I do know though I don't know the name of it 😭) I think Zayne would like an intimate position, such as a spooning position. I think him having you safe and secure in his arms, in a position where he can watch your facial expressions change, as seeing your different pleasured expressions gets him off. He likes to be close to you.

G = Getting Off (What gets them off?) - I think Zayne is the kind of man that could sit down and watch you intently as you give him a little show. A lapdance, a strip tease, anything like that. But even moreso, I think he would love it when you possibly take charge every once in a while. He secretly likes it when you make him ask nicely for you to let him finish🤫

H = Hair (grooming habits) - He is definitely well-groomed, no doubt about it.

I = Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty) - Definitely romantic. He likes to make love. Slow, sensual, passionate, intimate, and gentle. He is a gentle dom in my opinion, but he doesn't mind you being on top every once in a while. He could indulge in something rougher if you ask, but I don't really think he'd put his all into it - afraid of hurting you of course.

J = Jack off (do they masturbate and how often) - I think he wouldn't do it often, as he's way too busy with work. But perhaps on a day off he'll get pent up and decide to rub one out. I'm sure he'd be thinking of you when he does 🤫

K = Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual) - I don't think he has many kinks to be honest. Perhaps brat tamer, or primal (hunter). No daddy or master kink over here 🤫 Maybe he secretly likes to see you all tied up for him, though as long as its not hurting too much. I think perhaps he could have a size difference kink. After all, he'd love watching and witnessing how well you take him every time. Definitely a gentle dom.

L = Location (where they like to get it on) - He definitely would prefer if its not in public. He likes to be somewhere private where its just the two of you. Where no one can disturb you. Your body is his temple and he wants to be the only one to see it. It goes both ways, though.

M = Motivation (things that makes them tick/turn ons) - When you push him onto the bed and straddle him, 100%. When you visit him whilst he's working just to tease him and he has to resist the urge to give in. When you "accidentally" drop something and bend over. When you grind into him as you sit on top of him. When you slowly slide and drag your hands under his clothes, caressing that sculpted body of his, circling his nipple with your finger. It drives him insane. When you wear his favourite outfit just to rile him up.

N = No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do) - Hair pulling (at least too hard), Spanking (Again, not too hard if he DOES do it), anything too kinky in general or like proper BDSM.

O = Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are) - He definitely loves to receive. He loves to sit back and watch you as you take him into your throat. He'll let out small soft grunts and groans every now and then, but he'd obviously be holding back. Maybe he'll whisper a few praises and stroke your hair. But, he also thinks it's better to give than recieve. Watching your face contort in pleasure, gripping at the sheets, arching your back, your body trembling, those adorable moans, the way you whisper his name. He'd be making sure your needs come before his. You're his favourite patient, and a good Doctor takes GOOD care of his patients needs before his own. 🤫

P = Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed) - Definitely nice and slow, but he'd pick up the pace the faster he gets to bursting and maybe be a little rough if you asked him to be.

Q = Quickie - I think quickies would be beneficial depending on when. Like you could tease him in the morning before he has to go work and he'd have no choice but to give in and take care of you when you beg him to and give him those big doe eyes. Maybe if it's late and you're in the office, he'd relieve some quick stress with you. Maybe he'd even let you suck him off under his desk whilst he's working (after you got him riled up on purpose, of course)

R = Risk (do they like to try new things) - I think he'd be open to new things, but mostly depending on how you feel about them.

S = Stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts) - Maximum 3 rounds, just because he's a workaholic, and so he couldn't go for too long as he'd need to get his rest in for work the next day. But he always makes it up to you. When he has a day off, he'd go as much as you want him to.

T = Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers) - I think he wouldn't mind using one on you. His favourite would definitely be a remote controlled vibrator that he can activate at any time. You'd better hope you're not out hunting wanderers or with another person when he gets bored in his office and decides to activate it for fun.

U = Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves) - Oh, I think he wouldn't definitely be the type to make you whine and beg, edging you and watching you come apart as you plead for him to let you cum when he's two or three fingers deep inside you. Maybe he won't give in and you'll have to keep begging. Maybe he'll hold you still so that you don't seek any other stimulation to finish yourself off.

V = Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk) - Always low. Quiet. Hushed. Whispered. He won't moan too loudly, he'd probably hold it back or release it in an almost agonised growl and grunt. He likes to praise you, whether you're receiving or giving the pleasure. He would probably check on you whilst he was doing it to you to make sure he's not too rough or anything.

W = Wild card (random sincannon of any sort) - I think he'd definitely use his evol during sex at least one time 🤫 When it gets too hot, I'm sure a little ice would definitely help👩🏾‍🦯

X = X-ray (what’s down below in dem pants) - Girl...😏😩 he is packing of course. A good 5-6 inches.

Y = Yearning (sexdrive level) - It's not always high, but it certainly is when you tease him. Sometimes it'll go up just looking at you, or thinking about you.

Z = Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after) - He'll only sleep once he knows you're okay and all your needs have been taken care of. He'll watch you fall asleep in his arms.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Am I right or no, girlies?

(If you saw any spelling mistakes, no you didn't)

[ir-abelas-vhenan]

Something Something Yeah It's Still Solavellan Hours (Mythal is kind of here, too)

I've seen a few very beautifully articulated posts talking about the conflicted responses players are finding themselves having in regards to the decision by writers* to have Solas' atonement route possible because of his conversation with one of the remaining fragments of Mythal.

(*honestly I hesitate to put the weight of bigger game events on their shoulders because of how much I know bigger players in the company were involved, so when you read 'writers' know I just mean whoever had final say on plot)

I love reading where people are at on this, and having now breathed, re-played the scene, cried, read some more theories, and then played the scene again enough times I think I'm now able to figure out where I'm at.

TLDR: in my humble opinion, the conversation Solas has with Mythal doesn't bring him any actual closure at all. It is only the version of the atonement ending that has Lavellan in which he is actually set upon a road to redemption.

This, like everything else where I lose my mind, will be long. I tried to restrain myself and here we are, unhinged as ever.

I was unhappy at first that Mythal's incredibly brief conversation with Solas where she releases him from her service seemed to be what finally allowed him to make a decision based on his wants and not hers. My concern stemmed mostly from the fact that a lot of us are trying to be active participants in a society that recognizes patterns of abuse and seeks to establish channels through which individuals can pursue healing without the approval, consent, or demise of their abuser.

But the more I look at the scene, the more I wonder what would have happened in a world where Veilguard got just a little more time in development. Could we have gotten a scene that more elegantly conveys the theme that we cannot heal every part of our loved ones, much as we might like to?

In an imperfect world it isn't always up to us how someone finds closure, which really sucks when you'd like to ensure a loved one finds it in a way that preserves their dignity and limits exposure to the individuals who have harmed them.

And while it could be left there, I'd like to actually push back on the idea that Mythal is in any way responsible for "healing" Solas in this moment.

I went on a different tirade a few days ago about how at the end of Inquisition, Mythal says words to Solas that on their surface seem well-intentioned or placating, but they actually just serve to further bind him in guilt and a position of servitude. In Veilguard's finale, she still does not take accountability for exactly how much of a role she played in the pain that Solas, a man others have revered and feared as a god, has gone through as he cowers, actually cowers before her.

Mythal's interaction with Solas conveys exactly two things to him as far as I am concerned (I'm going to botch these quotes but my laptop is dying so please accept some paraphrase as I rush to finish this before I go cry about this analysis to my uncaring dog):

"The terrible things we did, we did together." You are forever tied to me.

"I release you from my service." But what am I releasing you to?

Because up until Lavellan joins the fray here, all I take away from the physical and unwilling emotional cues Solas gives in this scene (he is a master in trickery, for goodness' sake, the thought of so many witnesses seeing him unable to hide behind a mask has to leave him feeling anguished on top of everything else) is that Mythal has once again reminded him of everything he did in her name and telling him that all that's left for him is to go back to the fade prison and, as he as always done, endure the crushing weight of his failures alone.

To me, in my interpretation, the Solas that hears this from Mythal with no Lavellan intervention may choose to willingly step down from his original plan (and yeah, that's gonna do some damage) but he is certainly not free of his past. He's going to be reminded of it every time he turns a corner and finds more blight to try and soothe, and even the moments that he rests will be filled with more manifestations of his regret. He says it himself: where he's going? It's terrible.

Enter Lavellan. Yeah, he couldn't bring himself to listen to her at her first plea (but like damn how many times are we going to have to watch her give a heartfelt speech only for him to be like 'something something beautiful elven rejection'). But I know that you know that our clever icon knows better than to take what Solas says at face value. She tells Rook plainly that he's absolute dogshit at lies of the heart, and she says it with her whole chest.

Lavellan sees the way his shoulders slump (in resignation yes, but you can't convince me there's not a little bit of relief there, too), she hears the agony in the "vhenan" that escapes his lips (which, don't even get me started on the fact that it's been like nine years and he has no hesitation at all calling her his heart, it just spills out of him). It is not the sound of a man delighting in the steps he's about to take. They're certainly not steps he does not dislike that lead to a destination he enjoys.

And then she watches Mythal (who I can't imagine she feels any sort of fondness or respect for) pull some weird nonsense on her love one final time, and she knows it's her moment to shine.

Mythal, I would argue, pushes Solas down one more time, shames him into seeking atonement, into once again being alone.

It is the romanced Lavellan that kneels so that he cannot fail to meet her eyes. It is she who invokes their connection, not to remind him of his failures but to reaffirm his greatest strength: their love and their love alone is inevitable. Not the consequences of his past, not the regret he thinks will consume him as he seeks to mend what has been broken. It has only ever been them.

"There is no fate but the love we share". We are forever tied together.

"There is no fate but the love we share." *I* am releasing you from everything else save for this love.

Put colloquially: get absolutely fucking wrecked, Mythal.

Body language comparison to chase up the dialogue one, anyone? The way Solas shrinks before Mythal as opposed to him walking off into the fade with Lavellan at his side and standing tall, and he does not flinch when she lifts a hand to his shoulder?

Ultimately, Mythal is a part of the atonement endings no matter what. But it is only Lavellan that refuses to let him walk alone. It is only Lavellan that guarantees that his dinan'shiral ends not in a prison of regret, but a place of promise.

Mythal bends Solas until he breaks one last time. Lavellan takes each piece, claims it as hers, and uses them to build the beginnings of a future.

[ginnsbaker]

In Silent Screams (2/3)

Several weeks into her affair with Vision, the voice inside Wanda's head urging her to end things diminishes to faint murmurs, eventually fading away entirely.

Chapter word count: 8k+ Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader, Wanda Maximoff x Vision Warnings: Smut (F/M), Cheating, Angst, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Dubious Consent, Toxic Relationships

Notes: M rating this time. It gets spicier because what's between them is just pure lust. There will be a full smut scene that is a bit triggering given the context of how it happens, why it happens. I will mark it in red so you can skip it. Again, you will probably hate Wanda here more than the previous part, be warned.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

-

Part II

Comfort starts to creep in, wrapping around Wanda like a cozy blanket.

Several weeks into her affair with Vision, the voice inside Wanda's head urging her to end things diminishes to faint murmurs, eventually fading away entirely. And as she allows herself to indulge in the newness of his body and all the ways he is different and not what she’s used to, it becomes even more pleasurable (and addicting) for her when they come together. 

Wanda starts to think that maybe being with Vision like this doesn't take away from the love she has for you. It's almost as if she's compartmentalized herself—her relationship with you remains sacred, undisturbed by the dalliances that occupy her days. Vision has become a separate chapter, a deviation from the norm, but he's not taking the place of what she's built with you over time. Every night, regardless of how late it gets or how entangled she becomes in her meetings with Vision, she finds herself retracing her steps back to you. Her days begin with your face, and they end with your arms around her. There's a routine in that, a certainty she clings to.

Being with Vision helps her forget she's even in Westview. She's less haunted by the child she couldn't have with you, by the job she left behind for your sake. She dwells less on missing you, on feeling like she's become a secondary character in your life as you work tirelessly to provide for her. And isn't that what marriage truly is? More than the vows and the rings, it's about choosing the same person every day. It's about finding ways not to hold grudges, to keep the bond strong, to maintain a balance, right?

Her friendship with Vision, devoid of the usual societal filters, feels pure. They share, they debate, they laugh. But as the sun sets, Wanda always knows where she belongs. 

To you. 

-

“You’re kidding.”

Vision glances back at her over his shoulder, flashing a playful grin. They're in a park just outside of town, a result of those spontaneous drives they occasionally take. They've found a quiet corner, a place where they can be with each other, away from the rules of their complicated lives. Him being her student makes everything that much more delicate.

“Why would I joke about something like that?” he says, looking pleased with himself.

Wanda puts down the essay she’s reviewing and leans back on the picnic blanket, shielding her eyes from the sun. “You seriously want to buy art from the gallery?”

He shrugs, “I like what they showcase. Plus, I thought... well, it might be a good opportunity for you to earn a commission.”

It’s a weak argument and they both know it. She smirks, “Trying to impress someone?”

Vision pauses, taking a deep breath, serious as he says, “Maybe.”

Wanda sighs, feeling a knot tighten in her stomach. “Vision, we need to be careful.”

“Careful? Wanda, we're miles away from Westview. I'd say we're being pretty meticulous about this.” He smirks, pointing to the tall trees that shield them from any possible onlookers. “With all these trees and not a bird in sight, we could even fuck right here in the open if we wanted to.”

Wanda fixes him with a sharp gaze, one that immediately conveys her disapproval. Immediately, the smirk fades from his lips, replaced by  a realization that he might have gone too far with his teasing. He reads the message in her eyes loud and clear. Not only is his suggestion off the table, but he also senses that he may have jeopardized his luck in the coming days.

“I… I’m sorry,” he murmurs, going back to his sketchpad. They don’t speak to each other for a while. Wanda is deeply engrossed in the essays she has to review, already behind the deadline she set for herself, while Vision gives her space to cool down from his mistake. Their arguments are always brief but intense, and lately, they haven't been leading to sex as often as Vision would prefer.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Vision starts, “How is it, being with Y/N? Being married, I mean.”

Wanda stiffens at the mention of your name. She's never discussed you with Vision, and a surge of panic begins to rise within her. She hides her reaction by neatly rearranging the papers alphabetically in front of her. 

“I told you she’s off limits,” she answers a moment later.

Vision feigns surprise, tilting his head slightly. “Ah, my apologies. I meant no disrespect,” he says, his voice carefully neutral.

Wanda purses her lips, her posture tensing further. “Just... let's not go there.”

Vision nods, though he can't help but steal a quick glance at the wedding ring on her finger. It taunts him everytime he sees it, reminding him of the life she shares with someone else—a life he often finds himself yearning to be a part of. He's been daydreaming about a different reality, where Wanda is by his side not on borrowed time, where he is the one she turns to at the end of a long day.

He's persuaded her to share her thoughts with him, to spread her legs for him; how much more challenging could it be to win her heart next? He'll take it one day at a time if he has to. Patience is something he doesn't mind exercising.

Cleverly masking his intentions behind a facade of casual curiosity, Vision continues, “Hypothetically speaking, if you were to give insights on marriage, just in general...What are your thoughts?” He leans back, making the conversation seem casual, though every word is carefully calculated.

She glances at him, slightly suspicious but not fully alarmed. “Why the sudden interest?”

“Oh, you know," Vision waves his hand dismissively. “It's just something that's been on my mind lately. As a concept, I mean.”

Wanda narrows her eyes slightly, studying him. She knows Vision well enough to understand that behind his seemingly innocent inquiries, there's often an ulterior motive. But she also knows that he's persistent, and sometimes, the best way to deal with him is to play along, to a point.

“It’s…” Wanda finds herself grappling for an answer. She hadn’t expected that the answer would be much more complex now given recent events. She used to look at it in an idealized way, where marriage is what happens at the end of an epic love story, the banner over the path that the two main characters continue their journey on; the natural conclusion when people say 'happily ever after'.

Perhaps she's been wrong to view it that way all along. Perhaps marriage is just a tool to peel back the facade meticulously crafted during dating, for nothing remains hidden in marriage. To enforce a commitment that's always existed. To harness the rights it bestows between two individuals. To—

Wanda can list countless facets of marriage, and yet it wouldn’t change the way she feels about you, with or without it. She can change—she has, and marriage can vanish from the world, her love for you would persist unscathed. While every fiber of her being might be judged for her actions, she believes her love can’t be tainted. She’s sure of it. And so, essentially, marriage is—

“...it’s an indemnity.”

It’s not at all what he assumed she’d say. “An indemnity? That's an... interesting choice of word.”

Wanda nods, pushing a stray hair behind her ear with a thoughtful look. “Right. It's like our safety net, not just from what's out there but from our own doubts too. It's us saying to ourselves—and to anyone watching—that no matter how tough things get, we're in it together.  It's a promise that even in the darkest times, we'll stand by each other.”

Vision absorbs her words, trying to see the cracks, the spaces where he could insert doubt or lay the groundwork for his plans. “But don’t you think,” he ventures cautiously, “that sometimes, that very protection, that indemnity, becomes the chain that binds? Don’t you ever feel... trapped?”

Wanda takes a deep breath, sensing the subtext of his question. He has a knack for drawing out the very things she's trying so hard to keep from him. In the end, she still ends up talking about you. If he's truly eager to hear what she has to say about you, then Wanda doesn’t care if he won’t like what he hears.

“I know what you’re trying to do here,” Wanda says with a wry smile. “To assume she's the one trapping me would be a gross misunderstanding.”

He laughs for a long moment. It's loud and over the top, and somewhere in the midst of it, it begins to feel like an insult. Wanda lifts her chin, unfazed by his antics.

After a few moments, Vision's laughter subsides, replaced by a somber look. “I apologize,” he says, even as Wanda goes back to her readings. “I didn’t mean to make light of your feelings. It's just... sometimes I feel like you're still lying to yourself, Wanda.”

Wanda's eyes narrow, her stance firm, but she doesn't rise to the bait immediately.  “How am I lying?”

There it is—his opening.

“Yes. Sometimes, I wonder if you're using these philosophical explanations as a way to protect yourself from confronting something deeper. Something you might not want to face,” he says.

She chuckles, but it's devoid of any real amusement. “And what might that be?”

“That maybe,” Vision says, crawling closer to her until they're just a breath away. “Maybe being with her isn't everything you once believed it to be.”

A retort forms on Wanda's lips, ready to be unleashed. But as she looks into Vision's eyes, she notices something genuine and disarming in them. 

“All I’m saying is that you don’t need to defend yourself around me,” he murmurs, his voice gentle, fingers lightly grazing her cheek. “You don't need to explain yourself. Not about this, not about anything.”

His lips find the curve of her neck, placing a chaste kiss there, sending a shiver down her spine, making her sigh softly. 

“You can enjoy that,” he whispers against her skin, voice husky. His lips move upward, caressing her cheek before they meet hers. His hand slides to her waist, pulling her closer, until she’s on his lap, straddling him. Her skirt rides up her thighs, allowing him easy access to her dampening underwear.

Wanda shifts nervously. “Vision, we're in public,” she whispers sharply, but doesn’t make any move to get away from him.

His lips twitch into a confident smirk. “I know.” His fingers daringly slide beneath the hem of her skirt, edging towards her panties. “Don't worry,” he assures her, “I just wanted to see if your body tells the truth, even if your words might not.”

Her breath catches as his fingers find the growing wetness there. “See?” he murmurs, his mouth twisting into a boyish grin. “Your body doesn't lie.”

She enjoys it. To be brutally honest, without the haunting thought of your reaction if you were to find out, she concedes she savors their meetings. She’s attracted to him and it’s consuming her every thought. 

Wanda blushes furiously, coupled with the fear of being discovered like this, she’s surrendered to this wicked game. He doesn’t worship her like you do. He doesn’t try to make her feel like nothing is her fault the way you do. Why weren’t you disappointed that she couldn’t get pregnant? Couldn’t contribute to your household like equals? Why didn’t you agonize over the financial repercussions of her relentless quest to start a family with you?

Why won’t you ever, ever hate her?

It's twisted that she even thinks of you as she tilts her hips upwards, urging Vision to touch her just right.

Without warning, Vision plunges his long middle finger inside her, causing Wanda to gasp and grip onto him. The intimate intrusion is brief, and she barely has time to process the sensation when he withdraws, pushing her off his lap and onto the soft grass beside him. He holds his glistening finger up to the light, then brings it to his lips, never breaking eye contact with her. She watches, entranced, as he deliberately savors her taste.

Wanda’s chest rises and falls rapidly, every nerve in her body alive and buzzing. She feels exposed, laid bare both by his actions and by the force of her own arousal. There's a delicious humiliation in it, a thrill of being seen and wanted so openly.

But before she can get a chance to speak, Vision reaches into his pocket, producing an envelope thick with cash and hands it to her. She doesn't need to count it to know it's a significant amount.

“What the fuck is this?” Wanda asks, looking down at the cash in her hands.

He laughs again. He enjoys riling her up. Makes this all the more charged and exciting.

“It's for the painting from your old gallery,” Vision explains calmly. “Going back to that, yes, I want to purchase it. And that’s just 50% of my intended offer.”

Wanda reflects on all the support you've offered her, the financial aid you generously extended without ever demanding explanations. A portion of the money in the envelope—her future commission— could be a start, a way to repay some of the debts she owes you, even if it doesn't cover everything.

Not that you’ve ever asked her to pay you back. You’ve never once hinted at any imbalance in financial obligations in your relationship.

“I shouldn't take this,” she mumbles, yet her fingers clutch the envelope a little tighter.

“I want to,” he insists. “Although, I want a special request.”

Wanda's eyebrow arches in skepticism. “Which is?”

“A handwritten dedication from you, when the painting is delivered,” he replies.

She averts her gaze. “I’ll think about it.”

Vision nods. “Keep the money while you do.”

-

Wanda starts leaving the house early too, going to her lover’s apartment before they go to the university together.

Vision sits comfortably on the plush couch, engrossed in his video game, his fingers swiftly moving over the controller. Wanda enters, shrugging off her light jacket, her simple, functional underwear visible from the thin material of her dress.

“You know, Wanda,” he begins casually, “Have you ever considered just... being in your natural state here?”

“What do you mean?” Wanda asks, helping herself to some tea.

“Your body is a work of art,” he replies, pausing the game now and turning to face her fully. “And as someone who appreciates art...” His gaze travels to her current choice of undergarments and back up to her eyes, leaving his sentence hanging.

“Are you suggesting I walk around here naked?”

He grins cheekily. “The thought did cross my mind.”

Wanda's cheeks flush. “That’s not happening.”

“Alright, maybe not that,” he relents with a mock sigh. “But perhaps wear something more... refined? Exquisite?” His emphasis on 'exquisite' draws a clear line between what she currently wears and what he's suggesting. 

She's always prided herself on being confident, knowing her worth. But Vision’s playful, yet sharp suggestion chips away at her armor just a bit. For a split second, she wonders if this is how he truly sees her. If her choice of underwear, something so personal and intimate, is a reflection of her self-worth in his eyes. It's crazy to let his comment get to her; she's aware of that. But she can't help but think of you, of the intimate times you both share, the mornings she finds herself waking up beside you, and the nights you take off her clothes.

Do you notice? She wonders. Do you think the same?

It's all these tiny moments, insignificant on their own, but together they build a narrative in her mind. A story where maybe you don't desire her as you once did. That thought affects her more than Vision's words. The insecurity, an old nemesis she thought she had left far behind, resurfaces.

Wanda forces a nonchalant smile. “Why don't you mind your own business, and focus on your own wardrobe choices?” she retorts, but there's a lack of her usual sharpness in her tone.

He snickers, going back to his game. She hopes you don't see her the way he does. 

-

She buys a new set of lingerie—for you.

-

Wanda decides she’ll do it by the end of the week. Determined to finalize the sale, she picks up the phone while dinner simmers on the stove. With you still out, Sparky remains her only companion, and a pang of guilt strikes her for having neglected him lately.

She dials the gallery. After a few rings, the familiar voice perkily answers. “Hello?”

“Agatha, it's Wanda,” she says. “About the painting I texted you earlier. My buyer is all in.”

“There's already a bid on it,” Agatha interrupts, “with a deposit ready to go. But if you can secure the painting by tomorrow at the latest, it’s yours to sell.”

“Thanks. I'll make it happen.”

Only after hanging up does she understand that she'll need your help to ensure everything goes smoothly. The next morning, she broaches the subject, and, thankfully, doesn’t have to jump through many hoops to convince you. She loathes bending the truth about the gallery's closing hours, but she's pressed to secure the painting promptly.

Of course, you're there for her again. You even go as far as to offer her lunch, but she has to decline; she genuinely has an appointment with the dean. She reluctantly agrees to dinner, already having said yes to Vision to visit the Museum of Modern Art, where he's also set to give her the remaining 50% for the painting.

“We can have dinner,” Wanda proposes tentatively. “Maybe drive to the city for some steaks and a dive bar after?” It’s tiring to drive back and forth like Manhattan isn’t at least one and a half hours away without traffic, but she wants to spend time with you, and thank you for your effort.

“I'll pick you up at seven,” you say. “It's a date.”

She's excited, but deep down she's aware of the tight schedule. It would be nothing short of a miracle if Vision gets her back to Westview on time.

-

Wanda cancels dinner at the last minute. She's relieved that you're amenable and just texts to ask her what time she’ll be home.

-

When she gets her hands on the painting, it takes her a long time to think of a dedication message. Truthfully, writing heartfelt letters has never been her strong suit; she struggles to articulate her feelings. But as she contemplates her feelings for Vision, she draws a blank.  She considers simply thanking him for engaging her in conversations she hasn't had with anyone in so long, conveniently omitting their other indulgences. At the same time, she doesn’t want to leave a piece of herself behind, not even something as trivial as a personal dedication.

So she settles on a quote:

‘To Vision, the only secret people keep is immortality.’  - W

On a particular plane, it speaks to her. It's a phrase that mirrors the fundamental human longing for significance and a sense of purpose—something she has unknowingly let slip along the way.

-

Surprisingly, Vision appears content with the note. Wanda doesn't bother to inquire about his thoughts on it. He doesn't make a spectacle of his appreciation for the painting either, and it becomes apparent that he's indulging in a fantasy from some porno, where an older woman brings him something before he takes her to bed.

The sex is always intoxicating in its own messy way, now that she’s ready to admit she’s not after perfection whenever she comes to him. She doesn’t go to him because there’s something wrong with you. It might be because something is wrong with her, but there isn’t really any room to psychoanalyze her own mental state when she’s being taken from behind, facing a full length mirror. As pleasure builds, her eyes roll back, she briefly toys with the idea that she might be harboring deeper feelings for him. 

Then, out of the blue, a red flash catches her eye, but with two quick blinks, it vanishes.

“What’s that?” Wanda whispers, momentarily distracted before a moan escapes her lips.

“What?” he mutters distractedly, pulling her hair, when her head starts to droop. 

But before Wanda can form a coherent thought, he adjusts, lifting one of her legs and shifting his angle. With a few deliberate thrusts, she's spiraling into an overwhelming climax. And as pleasure washes over her, any lingering thoughts of deeper feelings for him evaporates along with the haze of lust.

Later, she would brush aside the memory of that brief red flash as she stealthily slipped into your shared home, careful not to disturb Sparky, who slept soundly. With a day off scheduled for tomorrow, she had completely lost track of time, fooling around a couple more times with a college kid.

-

“D-Did I hurt you?”

Right this second, Wanda feels like she'd welcome the ground opening up to take her or a random bullet finding its mark in her heart. Anything, if it would end her anguish. 

She watches your face crumple with guilt and hurt, and she can't believe she's caused you to feel this way when you’re just aching for her. 

Without missing a beat, Wanda draws you into an embrace, feeling your heart race against her chest. “No, you didn’t. I shouldn’t have made you feel that way,” she whispers. The mere thought of you second-guessing your intentions with her shatters her heart.

You lean into her completely, feeling like a child in her arms. “I’ve been missing you so much lately, and I thought... I thought we were on the same page.”

Wanda insists it's not your fault. None of this is your fault. She desires closeness with you, but she hadn't expected it to make her feel so uneasy beneath her skin, especially considering she had been touched by another less than 24 hours ago. She has to remind herself that you aren't aware. But she knows, and it plagues her mind, why you’d want to touch her.

Your reply, soaked in typical selflessness, is, “I know. I’m sorry.” 

Your apology, the earnestness in your tone is starting to make her feel dizzy. The fact that you feel this way, that she has led you to question your privilege—something she has always granted you—to touch her, is agonizing.

“Stop saying you're sorry,” Wanda snaps, her words sharper than she intends, fervently hoping that you understand her outburst isn't aimed at you. “You do everything right. It's me. I've missed you too, more than you can possibly imagine.”

When you softly say, “I love you,” it's filled with so much emotion that it brings tears to Wanda's eyes. It takes her too long to respond with an “I love you, too,” because there’s many more she wants to say. And she can’t say it without revealing the one thing that she fears will drive you away. 

She can only hope that you believe her because she means it more than anything.

-

Wanda can't pinpoint exactly when she developed the habit of locking the bathroom door. It likely started around the time Vision would text her, innocently asking about her lectures. Then, one day, she received a short video clip of him pleasuring himself and moaning her name. She promptly deleted the clip, but from that point on, she learned to check her messages at home only when she was about to step into the shower.

-

Natasha visits and something inside Wanda unfurls itself. She becomes hyper-aware of her activities with Vision, how she conducts them and where. Before relocating to New Jersey, you mentioned that Natasha had taken an open-ended break from her job, suggesting she might be ready to leave her old life behind. Still, she’s uneasy when she learns about it too late, and Natasha’s already outside, waiting to be let into the house.

You're still in your office attire, donning a pristine suit that would have captured her attention for the entire evening, if not for the fact that she's on the verge of breaking down at the mere thought of you discovering her affair with Vision.

“Why didn't you tell me she was coming?” she snaps, gesturing at the dinner table set for two and the disorderly state of their living room. Her eyes dart to a stack of her students' reaction papers lying exposed on the coffee table, and the unkempt pillows. To you, it might seem trivial, but to Wanda, every small detail could give away something she'd rather keep private.

“You could've at least warned me,” she continues, her tone reflecting more than just her concerns about dinner and the state of the living room, but you fail to catch it. You try to help, reaching out to straighten the living room, but she's too frazzled. Seeing the frustrated look on your face, she can't help but feel cornered. She hastily scatters the pillows about, her movement nothing short of hysterical. 

Sensing that things might take a worse turn than they should, you make the decision to be the one to step back.

“If it's too much trouble for you, we can just grab dinner elsewhere,” you suggest, struggling not to lose your own patience. 

She can't help but throw you a sharp look, feeling as though your words only made things worse. The mere idea of you and Natasha, alone, maybe sharing stories or opinions about her, feels threatening. But there’s nothing she can do but hope you will veer away from talking about her, that you won’t confide in Natasha how you haven’t had sex in months.

“Fine,” she snaps and quickly retreats up the stairs. “Send my regards to Natasha,” she throws over her shoulder, the guest bedroom door shutting loudly behind her.

She sighs heavily, pressing her back to the door, heart racing. From the window, she sees you walk back to the car, your frustration evident in every step. Natasha looks at you with that questioning glance Wanda knows all too well. She watches as you speak before handing Natasha the car keys.

She gazes up at the ceiling, determined to hold back the tears that are on the verge of spilling. She doesn't want to push you away, but her fear of Natasha, and what might be revealed, leaves her feeling trapped.

-

Out of frustration, she calls Vision, and they meet in his car, about two blocks from their house.

In the cramped confines of the backseat, Vision is quick to slide into her, the condom barely in place before he's thrusting with a fervor.

She peaks once, but not from him being inside her. She's too tense, too tightly wound for that. So Vision, realizing this, drops to his knees to truly bring her over the edge.

-

Later, Wanda lies on her side, every muscle tense, acutely aware of the presence beside her, all the while pretending to be deep in sleep.

“She used to crash at our place almost every week,” you murmur into the stillness.

A hint of irritation passes through Wanda, though she can't really tell why. “What?” she asks, her voice low and weary.

“Natasha,” you specify. “I didn't think to mention it because it was just our norm. She'd drop by unannounced all the time.”

You want to have a conversation about it, to work through this issue. She knows how you’ve been trying to give her space, thinking she hasn’t adjusted yet to life in Westview. You’re always thinking about her. Always putting her needs first above yours.

And Wanda can see how it’s worn you down, how you're starting to doubt your own logical reasoning, and how you're piecing together facts to present your case, hoping for her to be more receptive and listen. She despises the fact that she's putting you through all of this, merely because she's determined to prevent her different worlds from colliding.

She can sense you searching her face, looking for answers, trying to understand the wall she’s erected between you too. It’s so tall now, casting a shadow over both of you. 

“Wands?”

“Baby?” you try again. It seems like it's all you ever do these days. “Please?” 

Wanda resists the urge to turn toward you and pull you into her arms. She knows that if she does, the tears will flow uncontrollably, and she understands that you won't let her keep her troubles to herself. She composes herself, letting out a shuddering sigh.

“We're fine, Y/N. Let's just go to sleep.”

You give into her wishes, because you will always give her what she wants.  She extends her hand, delicately interlocking your fingers with hers. It's the smallest gesture she can manage. She pretends not to hear you, feel you shake, as you cry on your own.

-

She'd planned to watch the movie alone, in the middle of the day. So, when Vision discreetly takes the seat next to her, Wanda stiffens. A few others are scattered in the front rows of the dark theater, chatting softly as they munch on popcorn.

Without turning to face him, she whispers accusingly, “Are you stalking me?”

“I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd catch a movie. Pure coincidence.”

“You hate cinemas,” she counters.

He chuckles softly. “Maybe I'm learning to appreciate them.”

​​She’s about to retort when she feels a gentle touch on her hip. Wanda's muscles tense under his soft fingers as they start tracing the curve of her waist, moving slowly downwards, caressing her thigh. Her breath hitches, and she turns sharply to face him.

“What are you doing?”

Vision just smirks, leaning back in his seat. “Thought you might want to spice up the afternoon.”

Wanda rolls her eyes. “I'm not in the mood, Vision. Hands off.”

His laugh is a bit too loud, drawing “shhhs” and glares from the front row. Seeing him unmoved by the stares, Wanda huffs and stands up, making it clear she's moving seats. As she shimmies past him, Vision's hand snakes out, gripping her wrist. “Stay,” he murmurs, eyes serious. “I promise to behave.”

She hesitates, looking at him skeptically. Finally, with a sigh, she slides back into her seat. For the most part, Vision keeps his promise. They sit in silence, engrossed in the movie, but Wanda can't help but notice Vision's restlessness. Twice, he excuses himself, claiming he needs the restroom. She can't help but wonder what he's really up to, but she refrains from asking. Whatever it is, she's not sure she wants to know.

Later, when they step out of the theater, they're greeted by the aftermath of a rainstorm. Puddles dot the pavement, making it tricky for Wanda in her heels. Vision holds out his hand, and she takes it, especially when she almost trips trying to leap over a particularly large puddle. 

For some reason, she suddenly feels like she's being watched. From the corner of her eye, she spots the black SUV, parked in the same spot as when she arrived at the cinema. But before she can give it more thought, Vision pulls her towards a bookstore, quickly diverting her attention. She brushes off the odd sensation, attributing it to anxiety since the theater she picked is quite far from town.

-

Wanda stares, open mouthed and shocked, as Vision shows her his final project for her course.

It's a charcoal drawing on canvas featuring a nude woman, with only her mouth visible, reclining on a bench. Wanda doesn't need a second glance to realize that the woman in the painting is her. From the curve of her jaw to the birthmark on her left hip and down to the fold of her knees, the resemblance is remarkable. 

There's no way she can allow him to submit this.

His audacity to draw her in such an intimate manner without her consent leaves her momentarily speechless. She briefly wonders what other liberties he’s taken without her permission.

“What the hell is this?” Wanda questions in barely contained rage.

Vision smirks, arrogance dripping from every word. “It's you, obviously. Pretty accurate, don't you think?”

She clenches her fists, anger rising. “You had absolutely no right. This is beyond inappropriate. What were you thinking?”

Leaning against the table, he shrugs nonchalantly. “I was thinking about how hot you were and I wanted to immortalize it.”

She frowns, crossing her arms defensively. “This was private, between us. How could you think it's okay to make it public?”

“I thought you liked when I took control,” he says, stepping closer, his voice dripping with insinuation.

Wanda feels like throwing up. “This isn't a game,” she snaps. “You can't just use our personal moments as fodder for your projects!”

“You never seemed to mind before.”

Wanda replies sharply, “There's a difference between us being together in private and you broadcasting it to the world.”

He squares his shoulders, firming up his stance. “Maybe I wanted them to see.”

“To see what exactly?” Wanda yells, but the fear in her voice is unmistakable. 

“How good we are together,” he says. “Maybe I’m tired of hiding, Wanda. Ever thought of that?”

Wanda's mind races, a thousand thoughts crashing into one another. She's always been able to control the narrative, always had the situation in her grip. But now, Vision's defiance, his blatant challenge, terrifies her. The realization that Vision could, and possibly would, spill their secret terrifies her more than she thought possible. For the first time, she's faced with the real possibility of losing everything she holds dear. Of losing you.

“So, what's it going to be, Professor?” Vision challenges, towering over her in a display of intimidation. “Should I submit this, or maybe...” his voice drops to a whisper, “show it to your wife?”

She grits her teeth, trying to gain some semblance of control. “Destroy it. Now.”

Vision grins, leaning in closer until their faces are inches apart. “Make me.”

“Vis—”

Vision's lips crush down on hers in a fierce, demanding kiss. His hand clamps around the back of her neck, holding her in place as he ravishes her mouth. It’s fervent, consuming, and fueled by a hunger she hasn't felt from him before. Her brain screams at her to resist, to push him away, to regain control of this spiraling situation. She shoves at his chest, her nails digging in, but he doesn't budge. Instead, he deepens the kiss, his tongue demanding entry, which she denies him.

In her mounting frustration, she raises her hand and slaps him hard across the face. Vision barely flinches, his gaze never leaving hers. His determination only fans the flames of her anger further, but beneath it all simmers an irrefutable want. Without a word, Vision's hands descend to her waist, deftly unbuttoning and pushing down her pants and off her legs. She makes quick work of his belt, discarding them recklessly to the side.

As he inches closer, his breath hot on her ear, Vision murmurs, “Say it, Wanda… say 'I want you to fuck me’.”

She can feel the solid length of him pressing against her, and despite her anger, the way he slowly gyrates his hips makes her weak. She draws a shaky breath, the words stuck in her throat. It’s wrong, and he shouldn’t have this much power on her. 

He moves in, his lips trailing down her neck, as his hands find their way around her waist, pulling her in even closer. “Say it,” he murmurs again.

“I want you to... fuck me,” she finally breathes out, her voice breaking into a whiny plea that she would never have believed she could utter, especially under these circumstances. 

His response is immediate. Before she can fully register what's happening, he has her lifted, her back pressed against the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist. With a sharp thrust, he's inside her, filling her completely. While Vision usually found his release before she did, this time was different. She notices he's holding back, which confuses her. Why would he? Especially now. Wanda, lost in the sensation of him inside her, is curious but also a little apprehensive. 

She soon realizes why. His fingers find her clit, rubbing it in a rough, almost painful manner that sends shockwaves of pleasure through her. “Come on,” he urges, almost impatiently, his voice strained.

She feels herself spiraling, the coil inside her tightening. His cock angles and adjusts, targeting her sweet spot, making her clench around him. The slickness between them grows, and his fingers work in tandem with his thrusts, pressing, rubbing, coaxing her closer and closer.

“I'm gonna... I'm coming,” she warns, feeling the walls of her pussy fluttering.

And then she feels it—the unmistakable warmth, the pulsing. Her eyes widen in realization as Vision buries himself deeper, releasing inside her. 

“No!” Wanda screams silently, the sounds failing to escape her throat as the knowledge that he's come unprotected pushes her further into her own climax. Her instinct is to flee, to pull away from him, but Vision's grip is ironclad. He feels her panic and responds with more pressure on her clit, manipulating the nub with determined fingers. Each stroke sends her further into ecstasy, locking her in place as his other arm wraps around her waist, preventing any escape.

“Stay,” he murmurs into her ear, his voice filled with a possessiveness that she's never heard before. As he continues to spurt inside her, their hips still weakly grinding against one another, the reality of the situation dawns on her. He didn't use protection. He could—he could get her—

Terror claws at Wanda's insides. Was this all premeditated? Had he planned to trap her like this? She struggles to pull away, but Vision holds her even tighter, keeping her pressed against him as the last of his release fills her. He languidly rests his forehead against Wanda's shoulder, taking a moment to revel in the afterglow. When he finally dares to look at her, he expects to see anger or fury or maybe even forgiveness. Instead, he's met with wide, bloodshot eyes swimming with tears that violently spill over, tracing the contours of her cheeks.

His smugness dissipates and his brow furrows in confusion. “Wanda?”

She chokes on her tears, desperately trying to speak. “Did you—did you do this on purpose?” Using every ounce of strength she can summon, she pushes him away, stumbling slightly as her legs threaten to give out. Hastily, she starts grabbing her clothes.

Vision, looking lost for once, reaches out, but she recoils away from his touch.

“Don’t you fucking touch me!”

“Wanda, please. Let's talk about this.”

As Wanda attempts to regain her balance, she can feel the telltale wetness slide down her inner thighs. The physical evidence of their tryst, the proof of Vision's seed making its way out of her, sends a sharp pang of revulsion through her. Her hand moves instinctively, trying to wipe away the residue, a feeble attempt to erase the aftermath—or perhaps the entirety of their history. Her vision blurs as tears continue to stream down her face, her breathing jagged. Vision, looking both remorseful and lost, reaches out in an attempt to console her, but she flinches at the barest contact of his fingertips.

“Please, at least let me drive you to—”

“To where?” she spits out, her voice mocking. “Home? To my...? I can't—not now.”

Vision's eyes widen, and suddenly he looks much younger.

“Wanda,” he starts, voice shaky and eyes beginning to tear up, “I'm so sorry. I didn't mean... I didn't think… I-It’ll never happen again.”

But the pitiable sight of him, looking scared and unsure, only adds fuel to the fire. “You think a simple 'sorry' is enough?”

The door is her escape, and she's quick to reach it. As she’s about to leave, he whimpers, almost begging, “Please don't go. I... I'm sorry.”

But she's done. With one final, withering glance, she exits, leaving the door to swing shut behind her. 

-

While Wanda waits for her period to come, she can't focus on anything else. She feels disoriented during the day, and it keeps her awake at night. 

In her world, everything's spiraling into a fragmented mess, like a vintage vinyl record that's been smashed to bits. 

She tosses out reading assignments like candy at a twisted parade, tells the kids to scribble down essays. For them, it's almost like a holiday. For Wanda, it's a desperate lifeline. By the window, she stands. Watching. Waiting. But not really seeing anything. Vision's eyes, burning into her, but she never meets his gaze. She hasn't been responding to his texts or calls, discarding them immediately without even opening them. The classroom exit strategy is always the same: blend in with the herd, avoid the predator. She doesn't give him even the slightest opportunity to get her alone.

Home should be her fortress. Instead, it's like quicksand. Sparky, always eager for her attention, brings toys to her feet, his tail wagging in hopeful anticipation. But her patience is thin, and she finds herself shooing him outside, much to the dog's confusion. She's been bringing home takeout repeatedly, and the repetition isn't lost on you. While you never openly complain, she notices when you start to take the reins, cooking dinner, a quiet acknowledgment of her current state.

She waits and waits—a ghost haunting a lover, a home, a school, a town, waiting for salvation.

-

She’s more than a week late for her period when she (terrifyingly) decides to buy a pregnancy test kit. Wanda clutches her coat tighter around herself, hesitating for a moment before pushing the door open. Inside, she avoids making eye contact, moving purposefully towards the aisle she's dreading. As her fingers wrap around a pregnancy test kit, her heart hammers in her chest. With the box safely tucked inside her bag, she hurries back home, sneaking glances over her shoulder, feeling as though the world knows her secret.

When she arrives home, she pretends as if she had simply stopped by the grocery store. She musters a smile as she begins to prepare dinner, maintaining a light and cheerful conversation with you. You savor her food as if it were your last meal, showering her with compliments like a discerning food critic, which brings a slight chuckle from Wanda. You peck her lips when you’re finished, thanking her for it. For a while, it seems like everything is back to normal, and that nothing will shatter the illusion that she’s still living her happily-ever-after with you.

She waits, counting the minutes, ensuring you're deep in sleep before she tiptoes into the bathroom. She reads the instructions multiple times, her eyes scanning over each word as if hoping they'd change. It's as though she hasn’t been through this ritual numerous times before, back when her deepest desire was to bear your child. The irony isn't lost on her: in just a few months, she's transitioned from yearning for a baby to fervently hoping she isn't pregnant.

Finally gathering enough courage, she rips the packaging. Just get it over with, Wanda muses. The minutes that follow feel like hours. The silence is suffocating, the potential consequences bearing down on her. She jumps at the slightest noise, every creak of the floorboards or rustle of sheets convincing her that you've woken up.

The alarm on her phone finally goes off, signaling that it's time. With bated breath, she looks down at the test, her world teetering on the brink of change.

-

She’s hidden the pregnancy test deep in the trash bin, concealed under tissues and other refuse. It’s the middle of the night, and she ensured it is further out of sight by taking the trash outside.

As the initial relief floods through her, it is swiftly replaced by a profound sense of shame. She sits curled up on the couch, hugging her knees, desperately wishing to escape from herself and her crimes. She realizes, with a piercing clarity, that she can't compartmentalize or keep secrets when it comes to you, because you're not just a part of her life—you are her life. The mere thought of you finding out fills her with a terror so profound, she's left gasping for breath. She'd rather face any consequence, even death, than watch the love fade from your eyes, replaced by hurt, anger, and betrayal.

She loves you, but Wanda doesn’t—she doesn’t know what to do, how to move forward. 

But in the midst of her life falling apart, an unexpected sentiment finds its way to the forefront: hope. 

A fragile, quivering kind of hope. Wanda's lips twitch, trembling as they pull into a weak smile. Maybe the universe is giving her a second chance. Maybe her not being pregnant is a sign, a way out. It's as if fate is holding out a lifeline, imploring her to take it and mend the fractures in her life. With renewed determination, she silently promises herself that she'll devote every bit of her being to you. She knows she can't change the past, but she believes, fervently, in the possibility of a future where she remains true, where she will never stray again.

Still, the weight of her deeds anchors her to the couch, each sob a violent reminder that she's the villain in her own story. And that’s how you find her, in the dark living room, crying and blaming a nonexistent movie for being in such a mess.

“Wanda?”

She looks up and every cell in her body threatens to crumble. “Hey, baby,” she murmurs, her fingers brushing away the tears.

“Have you been crying?”

“Just a movie,” she lies still, “You know how emotional they make me.”

You smile, your eyes full of that nurturing love. “My big crybaby.” Wanda can't believe a pregnancy scare was what it took to finally wake her up.

Looking into your eyes, a surge of need overtakes her. She longs to claim you, to solidify her stake, and leave no doubt in your mind about where her heart truly lies. She wants to show you just how much she loves you, to make up for all the times she has strayed. 

She doesn't hesitate. Before she fully processes her actions, she's on top of you, her weight pinning you down, her eyes blazing with an intensity that threatens to consume. “Take off your shorts,” her voice trembles. Your obedient response sends a thrill through her, but she's barely registered the progress you've made before she's swiping a teasing finger, tasting the essence that's uniquely yours. She watches, entranced, as a shiver runs through you, your voice shaky with desire. 

“Patience, baby.” 

She barely shakes her head, lips parted. “Don't have any.”

And then she's tasting you, each slow, deliberate stroke of her tongue designed to drive both of you mad. Your body responds fervently, and she can sense your need building, mirroring her own desperate longing. “Please, Wanda, more…” Your whisper is a plea she can't resist. Her lips part to take in more of you, savoring the intoxicating flavor that she had missed so much. 

“I've missed you so much, Y/N,” she says, deliriously lost in your pleasure. “I've missed making you feel good. Missed feeling this way with you…” She doesn't quite realize the hints she's dropping, but she doesn't care. This moment is real, and she wants it to be as honest as it can be.

Lifting your legs, Wanda applies gentle pressure, pushing them back until they're almost touching the couch cushions on either side of your head. The sight of you, so openly displayed for Wanda, sends a rush of heat and desire through her core. She can feel the power she has, not just from the position but from the trust placed in her to have you in such a vulnerable state. It feels so good, being this close to you. How could she have ever desired anything else when she had this all along?

Wanda pauses for a moment, mouth watering, her eyes hungrily tracing the sight before her. She senses a slight shift, seeing your eyes flit away, perhaps overwhelmed. But Wanda can't allow that retreat. Gently cradling your face, she guides those eyes she loves back, sealing their return home to her with a tender, grounding kiss.

“I love you,” she breathes against your lips.

You smile up at her. “I love you. More than you could ever know.”

Wanda shuts her eyes, letting your reassurance wash over her. Nothing lasts forever, but perhaps this could be an exception.

[crimsonmoonlight88]

Noa's Potential Love Triangle

"You like her--Soona."

"We were born within a sunset."

Okay listen, I never thought I'd be here considering a potential love triangle in this series, but here we are.

Now, I won't even touch on the interesting choice of having Mae of all characters ask this, but there are so many answers Noa could have given that ultimately tell the audience "yes, I like her."

Yes. Of course. I do. Sure. Maybe. Why wouldn't I? What, no! *looks nervous*

(I could go on all day.)

But no, he only says, very matter of factly, "we were born within a sunset."

So with that baffling response, I thought about it some more, and two things came to mind for what he might have meant:

They were born close together, like family, indicating his feelings are familial. (This jives with the actual vibe between them in the movie, imo.)

It doesn't really matter. They were born within a sunset and that (possibly) has some cultural meaning for their clan, like a sign they were meant to be together. Therefore, a relationship would be expected of them, no matter how they feel.

Now it could be one or both of these scenarios, but with the second I can see that playing into Noa's upcoming hero journey of becoming who he was meant to be. Interestingly, in this trailer we get:

Owen: Noa has to make a choice Proximus: Do you choose a human, over an ape? Owen: And only one will prevail. Proximus: Together, you will die. Noa: No, together--strong. *cues scene of Noa reaching for Mae on horseback and saving her*

From that trailer alone, you get a sense of what his choice will be. But in the movie itself, when Proximus lays this out for Noa, he does not choose. (Yet)

"Do you choose a human over an ape? Your sweet, little Soona or that stinking human?"

I think that's intentional for now, as I think the love triangle is potentially a catalyst for Noa, and Mae and Soona in particular, are meant to represent two different paths (and endings) for him. With this concept in mind, it could mean:

Choosing Soona means following the path that is expected of him, the one laid out since birth, the one he would have gone down had Mae not come into his life. Following the rules, following tradition, upholding his clan's legacy, and choosing for the world to stay as it is with apes dominating humans. (Apes, together, strong)

Choosing Mae means following the path that defies expectations, the new one that was forged because Mae came into his life. Questioning the rules, embracing change over tradition, upholding Caesar's legacy, and choosing for the world to evolve with human/ape coexistence. (Together, strong)

So Noa's answer of "we were born within a sunset" is not a yes or a no, just as Mae's response to "can ape and human live together" is not a yes or a no, because these characters have not chosen this "together strong" path yet. They are questioning everything they've ever known, are changed by this connection to each other, but they're still following their "expected path" at the moment.

Now I might be wildly off base with this theory of course, and I acknowledge that Noa could definitely become who he needs to be with Soona by his side--but I'm looking at this from the two path/two love interest narrative, along with many other factors. But I'll just finish with these quotes from Wes Ball.

"Her [Mae] whole journey is changed by meeting Noa, just as much as his journey has been changed by meeting her."

"These characters [Noa and Mae] have now saved each other, and they have a complicated connection. There is now a history and real feelings between the two, and that’s going to be important moving forward."

"Can apes and humans live together? Can we coexist? So that will be a continued theme throughout future movies, and if there’s any chance for peace between these species, it will probably be between these two characters."

"There's literally a door that opens at the end to hopefully many more possibilities. And the relationship between Mae and Noa and how they've changed each other, you know, is going to be crucial moving forward as they navigate the future together."

[luveline]

Hello! Can I request cornflower blue with Aaron, where he's just really into chubby!reader and she's so sweet to him and acts kind of similar to bombshell!reader, but is surprised and ecstatic when she finally notices that he's been flirting back?

tysm♡

You walk into Hotch's office feeling pretty and ridiculous. You know you look cute today, hair done pristine, skin dewy, your outfit one that accentuates the slopes of you (and this is all without mentioning the frankly gorgeous pair of shoes you're wearing). 

"Hello," you say. Something about Hotch makes you feel prettier. You couldn't put your finger on it, maybe it's the way he doesn't seem bemused at your flirting ('cos, oh, there's the flirty fat girl, how funny! like being sweet on people is weird when you do it). "How are you today, handsome?" 

"I'm good," he says, with a real, authentic, sticker of approval smile. "How are you?" 

"Better now I'm seeing you," you say, neatening the edges of your papers on his desk before offering them to a big hand. 

"I could say the same thing," he murmurs, looking down at the papers you've passed him with that boss look about him. He has to check your paperwork before it's submitted, of course, and this batch is a little late, so that's probably why he's happy to see you.

"Charmer. Do you need my help with anything while I'm here? I'm free." 

"You, free?" he says, still looking at the papers, one held above the pile, grabbing for a pen blindly. "In what world?" 

"This one, if you can believe it! Hotch, you understand me like nobody else does." You put on a saccharine, movie star tone, silky and smooth as you sit in the slippery leather chair in front of his desk. Elbows on the desk, you place your chin in your hand and watch him correct things you've written with a dreamy expression that isn't even really fake.

You quite like turning Hotch's innocuous comments into flirtation, if only to see his smile, but today the smile seems different. Almost like he knows something you don't know. You press your pinky finger over your lips and try to work it out. 

… Is Hotch flirting back? There's nothing to do but test it. 

"How do you make paperwork look good?" you ask. And it's important to note that you mean what you say, even if your compliments are said in a teasing, sunny manner. "Is there anything you can't do?" 

"Careful," he says, turning a page. Well, maybe he isn't flirting– "You might get something you aren't looking for." 

Your heart is a bat out of hell, leaping from your chest. "I'm always looking for something as long as you're the one giving it, Hotch... I've been thinking I'd quite like a new moniker, if you're up to it." 

He places the paperwork down into a tidy tray and leans back just a touch in his chair (what the fuck). "What would you have me call you?" he asks quietly. 

"Any Sweetheart will do." Is this real? Is he really giving it back to you? "Puppy love, angel, valentine. You could take your pick."

"Why don't you choose one for me?" 

You stand up from your chair and shake your head at him, fizzy energy with nowhere to go. "Handsome, you're in a mood. I'm going to do a lap, okay? Before I combust. Think you can get this," —you gesture to his chest in a big circle— "under wraps, or shall I start picking out colours for our engagement party invitations?" you ask. 

Hotch laughs and opens one of his desk drawers. You consider the joking over, and while you're disappointed, you're not surprised. That is, until he says, "I like eggshell white over cream, but I'm sure you'll make the right decision, angel." 

[betweensaintsandmonsters]

okay okay vampire obi-wan and anemic human anakin who goes to be his meal at like a fancy vampire bistro that pays willing humans to "donate" blood (get bitten) and tastes like shit whomst obi-wan then tries to take care of (in all the ways he can from sunset to sunrise) first so his food tastes good (bc anakin keeps coming back) and then because he cares

sends cookbooks to his apartment, tries to get him to go to the doctor, sends him other little gifts when he sees thinks that make him think of anakin, obi-wan just like wants to take care of his boy because he's clearly not taking care of himself (he signed up to be vampire food so that much should have been obvious) and obi-wan just wants him well is that too much to ask?

they fight about this often. (first: "how did you get my address?" "It's on the form you filled out to be here" "invasion of privacy much?" then: "you could always just... choose someone else?" "and let another vampire suffer from your lack of self care? absolutely not."") ("i don't know why you're putting so much into this? "i must have nothing else to do.") ("if this bothers you so much... just let someone else feed off me." "no.")

anakin stops showing up to be dinner for a few weeks and obi-wan gets worried. but he's not sure how far he's allowed to go in his worry, they're technically just... predator and prey (though obi-wan wouldn't describe them like that) it's just that no one tastes like anakin (that's definitely it) and nobody sasses him like anakin, and nobody is anakin and anakin is missing and clearly if he's been gone this long he can't possibly be okay

(and obi-wan is right, anakin isn't okay. he's in the hospital with an arm that might need to be amputated (but it was obi-wan's favorite place to drink from since he won't touch anakin's neck for reasons he WON'T explain)

(if you asked obi-wan why he didn't bite anakin's neck to begin with, he'd heavily imply there's no reason, but when pressed, it would be that anakin let's out this breathy moan when he's bitten, and it's music to obi-wan's ears, a symphony to his soul, he doesn't think he'd survive it if that was right in his ear, he'd have to kiss the boy then and there, have to keep him, and he can't do that, so his neck is off limits. it is IMPERATIVE anakin does not know this)

and he's lost a lot of blood and he's suffering and not alone because ahsoka and padme keep visiting, but he doesn't know how much he misses obi-wan until he isn't seeing him)

so one night obi-wan goes to anakin's apartment to see he isn't there and hasn't been there in weeks based on sent, and panics because what if he drove his beautiful boy away, or what if someone went after him, and obi-wan can't go in bc vampire rules say he needs permission and also it's good manners.

eventually anakin comes back to him, sans one arm, apologetic because "i know that's where you liked to bite" as if that could possibly be the reason that obi-wan is as upset as he is when he comes in. "i'd understand if you need a different meal," he says, as if that's all he is when obi-wan refuses to bite him because for the first time, he looks fragile and that's heartbreaking

so anakin leaves and obi-wan is gobsmacked, flabberghasted, realized anakin waited to have this conversation as close to sunrise as possible so obi-wan couldn't follow him out of the bar, but he doesn't realize that his vampire would absolutely run into the sun for him (except quin and satine 1000% don't let him "that's not how you get your man, he doesn't want a pile of dust, where's that going to get you, man, think for just a fraction of a second")

so obi-wan send anakin more little gifts, things he can puzzle out one handed as he gets used to being an amputee, trinkets he might enjoy, notes that are meant to make him smile, or that say he'll find somewhere else to feed on the boy if that's going to get him to come back when nothing else has worked. all he wants is to let anakin know that he's he's appreciated, make him feel wanted and loved.

eventually anakin sends him a note back with his phone number and then texts him to come over. he makes obi-wan stand on his stoop for an excruciating amount of time and he gets a lecture about personal space, and respecting people's wishes and "it doesn't matter that you're 300 years old, some people just don't want anything to do with you!" and anakin tries to say all of this with a straight face, before he cracks because he misses obi-wan and it is an act, and he's been in love with this vampire since he decided it was his job to take care of one human that wasn't taking care of himself.

then anakin kisses him and gives him a goofy grin and asks "what are you doing just standing there?"

"are you inviting me in?"

"i guess i am. you're stuck with me though, i'm your problem now."

"darling, you've been my problem for a long time, and i wouldn't have it any other way."

and eventually they fuck, and obi-wan bites anakin's neck, and here's his symphony played out in the most desirable circumstances. and they live happily ever after

(until anakin pesters him about making him a vampire "so i can be your problem, permanently" and they argue about it, but agree that anakin gets a life first "you've gotta be at least 40 before i turn you, i'm not going around looking like i forever robbed the cradle!" "you're not even 40! 25." "nope." "fine, 30 then, final offer." "and if I say no?" obi-wan's grin is feral, like he knows he's lost but he's still willing to play the game. "i know you won't" so does obi-wan)

[lampochkaart]

Kokichi is asexual and you can't change my mind (and Kaito is an ace too 'cause i said so)

Here is why i think that way

Disclaimer! This post is not created to judge or shame anyone. I created it to explain why i think about them in that way and maybe try to make this headcanon to be more popular. I might sound kinda salty at times here but in general I don't mean to hurt anybody.

It kinda confuses me why so often Kokichi portrayed a little bit too intrested in making sexual comments and jokes. I probably shouldn't be surprised, because I know that we live in a sex obsessed world. I'm kinda used to it at this point. But I think people kinda exaggerate it.

In actual game he doesn't make sexual comments and jokes THAT often and 90% of the time they are directed at Miu who is the MAIN sourse of them in game. I even think that he would not say so many of those things if Miu wouldn't be starting it first.

He even get's confused for a second when Gonta tells him he couldn't catch Miu for Insect Meet and Greet because his "face got hot".

And in bonus mode Dangan Salmon Team he isn't particularly intrested in that either. In most cases when the player chooses sexual option even though the game states that it was a good option Kokichi will often just change the coversation to a different topic. Yeah, they had fun, but they didn't really talk that much about initial chosen option.

"Let's read a dirty book."

"How about joining my organization instead?" *starts rambling about his organization*

And yes, I REFUSE to call this protag Shuichi. This is NOT my favorite protagonist. He would not fucking say this.

Look how they massacred my boy *cries*

One thing Kokichi also does very often is being sarcastic. I really like this scene. But surprisingly I've seen people taking his excitement as genuine and was like ??? How? Have you gone so crazy after you've seen his first phrase that you blacked out and missed part when he went "nope :)". He literally was like "Is that what you wanted me to say? You wish😊🖕"

I also like how sometimes when the protagonist say something sexual Ouma redirects topic from himself. And he often suggests Tenko as alternative. For a long time I couldn't understand why it was her specifically. And then I realised. It's because Tenko will beat up any man who says something like that to her. He literally indirectly tells player to fuck off.

I can't belive how often those moments are overlooked.

I think that's all my main points regarding Kokichi. Everything else is not very convincing and can be dismissed. But I just want to point out that his color palette basically resembles asexual flag, because I think that's a neat detail.

Now Kaito. I'm gonna be honest. The main reason I headcanon him as ace is because I headcanon all my favorite characters as asexual. But there is a reason I fully accepted him as ace.

The scene in Talent Development Plan where he's discussing "man's passion" with Leon and Teruteru. While they were talking about girls it turned out Kaito this whole time was talking about chasing passion in more philosophical sense. And by exploring "unknown worlds" he probably meant space (they really should've seen that coming).

That's pretty much it. I just saw 1 (one) reason to make it canon for me and immediatly jumped on it.

I think that's it for both of them. They're not the only characters i headcanon to be on the ace spectrum (and i also have some on the aro spectrum too!) but they're the ones I think about the most, so I thought I'd explain it.

[etirabys]

When I started translating my notes on Nick Lane's book on abiogenesis into an blog post, I felt like I'd woken up from an ultra detailed dream with an amazing plot, only to discover it makes no sense when I describe the twists. I kept reducing my ambitions until I succeeded in writing a rather muzzy and exasperated five paragraph summary for friends. Since I don't want to say nothing about my partial understanding of a partial account of abiogenesis, one of the most interesting questions ever, I will paste those paragraphs.

(Note: he chooses not to touch the major question of how DNA and DNA replication arose. This book is about how reality might have solved the other significant challenges.)

--

Nick Lane's bet on the location of the origin of life is underwater alkaline hydrothermal vents, which are formed when water sinks underwater, reacts with certain common rocks like olivine, and comes back hot & alkaline & also holding a lot of rock stuff like metals and sulfur. When this re-meets the ocean, the rock stuff precipitates out into a "mineralized sponge" riddled with labyrinthine interconnected pores, throughout which the pH difference can be dramatically different. Like 3-5 pH units.

This rock offers a bit of natural inside/outside protection for a protocell putting itself together. Organics naturally concentrate in small spaces due to thermophoresis, which is the phenomenon where larger molecules accumulate in the colder regions of a small space (because they're worse at randomly bouncing back to a hot region than a small molecule). So you have an environment full of CO2, hydrogen gas, metal catalysts, as well as a natural gentle flow of water carrying out waste. Promising!

Carbon fixation is the process of stripping carbon from inorganics like CO2 to tack them onto organic molecules like RNA. Every living cell has to do this. The simplest carbon fixation pathway only requires CO2 and H2, so let's assume it's the first pathway that was used. The pH difference comes into play twice, here: (1) Stripping an electron from H2 to give it to CO2 to make an organic molecule is hard in any pH, but not hard if the electron crosses a semiconducting mineral like FeS in a thin wall, from a more alkaline environment to a more acidic one. (2) Where does the energy to run these carbon fixation reactions come from? Simple membranes are by default porous to protons, which are small. Simple cells wedged between two areas with differences in pH can exploit the flow of protons, which go through (something like) ATP synthase to generate ATP, which can perform work in the cell much as they do now. (Actually, probably not ATP, but acetyl phosphate, which is much simpler but can do the same thing.)

But howww do you go from passively exploiting the proton gradient to producing it yourself by pumping protons out, as modern cells do? As a hint, we notice that all cells seem adapted to an internal concentration of Na+ that's weirdly lower than the ocean concentration. Na+ can also be used for energy production, and lipid membranes are much less permeable to Na+ than H+. So while there's no point in pumping H+ that'll come back immediately, there is an advantage to pumping Na+, since it'll stay out and increase the energy gradient you're using to live. The additional Na+ gradient can give the cell 60% more power than relying on protons alone, meaning cells with the Na+ pump can colonize areas of the vent with a smaller pH difference. Once you have an Na+ pump, there's an advantage to tightening the membrane against protons since… I didn't believe the logic here :/ but the endpoint is that you have an impermeable membrane studded all over with proton pumps, at which point you're ready to leave the vents.

Even this relatively plausible account is so implausible I don't think life actually arose...

Archaea and bacteria probably diverged before attaining independence, and left the vents separately. We think this because their cell membranes and cell walls are so different. Like, they both use glycerol to make their membrane impermeable to protons, but they use different stereoisomers of glycerol to do so. Both of them use the same fundamental energy converting membrane protein, but oriented in opposite directions, which led to different design constraints. Which I do not understand well enough to relay to you.

[leavemebetosleep]

Alright here's a short version of how I'd fix Bride of Discord. As a sort of mental editing exercise.

While not really a good fic for a lot of reasons, Bride of Discord actually has a lot of potential as a story. There's a lot of great imagery, and it has a lot of fic tropes I like and are fun to read. I actually would probably change less than some people would. (If your "rewrite" doesn't keep any of the original anything, it's not actually a rewrite babes)

It's just that a lot of stuff in it is maybe played from the wrong angle.

Also there's no saving the Applejack/Spike thing. That's just gross. I think you could keep a similar subplot, just change it so AJ's crushing on someone else. I like AppleDash, but RariJack would probably work the best here. Maybe in this version she's afraid to confess bc she thinks Rarity is straight since she's so femme.

As for the main couple, I think you could actually make the demanding a wife thing work, just have it play out differently.

Like, Discord is old. He spent a lot of time as a statue, and might not be up to date on modern society. Maybe instead of it being a VERY creepy request that screams "sex slavery" make his request explicitly a somewhat less creepy political marriage.

That was common back in his day, and he IS trying to make a peace treaty with Twilight. Being married to one of her people is a show of good faith, that she won't go back on her word, and he won't go back on his, as well as metaphorically uniting their kingdoms.

He doesn't care who it is, because he's not intending to fall in love with them. At best they're gonna be an extended house guest.

They can even point out that's dated and weird, but he can also counter he doesn't know how else to get a proper show of trust. He doesn't trust them with his own safety, but he does trust they won't go after one of their own.

That could also play into why he's so insistent they get married already. Fluttershy trying to avoid the marriage once she's in his kingdom makes it feel like he's being set up, and like the treaty is tenuous. Or maybe he's even suspicious that she's avoiding because the ponies don't plan to stick to their deal.

That could even factor int the climax, but I'll get there.*

Discord can be lonely, and he can still also be a little desperate for companionship, but I don't think that should be his reason for the marriage. Otherwise he could've just asked for a companion, not a wife. Plus, I feel like per-reformation Discord would be in denial about being lonely. I think he'd only start to realize how much he's been missing out on until AFTER he's gotten to know Flutters.

*So in the climax, Fluttershy declares she doesn't love him bc her friends are badgering her, and he gets creepy possessive and tries to hypnotize her and there's a fight and what-not.

Yeah, instead of that what if it's his paranoia that she's avoiding getting married because they plan to betray him coming to a head?

He hears Fluttershy say something to her friends that out of context sounds like they're going to blast him back into stone after all. So he's think she's a traitor who played him for a fool.

I'd nix the hypnotism, just have him and the six fight it out, and then he kicks everyone out before Fluttershy can explain because he's heartbroken and doesn't want anyone to see.

Lot of minor fixes I'd throw in too, cutting out plot threads that go nowhere. Less heteronormativity. Fixing a LOT of OOC-ness. A LOT.

Oh and I'd change Discord's backstory too. The Megamind rip off thing is meh, and I think Discord's a character you could do a lot more interesting things with that that.

As for Fluttershy, a huge problem I have with this fic is she lacks real agency. I want her to choose to go with Discord, not out of the weird sense of feeling she has to sacrifice herself. (It comes off, for lack of a better word, suicidal.)

Maybe instead, she chooses to go because despite her shyness, she's bold when it matters. She will stand up to him. She's not going to be afraid of him anymore. She's gonna tame him like every other wild animal she's had to deal with, and save her home in the process. She's going to come back. He can't keep her there if she really decided to leave.

Have her be the Fluttershy who tried and failed to use her stare on him.

Also, in the original I never at any point felt like she fell in love with him. Just that she gave up resisting his advances. She's always wary and hesitant to do anything with him. That's fine for the beginning of their relationship, but for this to be a good love story that has to change at some point.

Where's the moment she realizes she finds him a little attractive actually? He's weird looking, but he's so confident and funny and fun and that's really appealing. Where's the part where she's having fun and forgets she's a prisoner? Where's the real bonding? Setting boundaries?

Maybe she convinced Discord to let her friends visit, not because she's marrying him already, but because she convinces him to try to make other friends. And he does it, because he loves her already at this point. And she thinks if he and her friends could get along, they could work thing out. Maybe she was hoping things would go well so she could tell him she wanted to marry him after all.

Maybe she really did want her friends at her wedding, but also to be able to have her parents, her brother.

This last bit has nothing to do with the author's writing. This fic was originally written before the show ended, and we got a lot of lore afterwards she couldn't have known about. That's not her fault she couldn't see the future. But just for my sanity, I'd add in more cannon lore.

And uh. I guess that's all got with what I remember of it. Yeah.

[whackk-kermitt]

We Weren't Together

Warning: Pack Mom Stiles(mostly Off screen), Derek is the Alpha, Everyone is Alive, Derek is Jelly, Mild Angst, Misunderstandings, Significant Background Character, Lydia is the best Meddler, Happy Ending Summary: Derek and Stiles are not a couple. Simple as that. Not really sure where I was going with this one. It might be total shit. Womp Womp. NOT PROOFREAD

≫ ────── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ────── ≪

"Cheater!"

"I didn't cheat!"

"You so did! How else would you have all that money when you own two properties!" Erica flung a shoe. All Stiles could do was laugh until his ribs ached.

"Okay," Lydia sighed setting her cards down and backing from the coffee table to lean against the arm of the couch. Allison looked on unimpressed, but only because she knew Stiles cheated.

"Oh come on," Scott groaned. "This is why I never play Monopoly."

"Who's Idea was this?" Isaac threw his cards down and looked around, a scowl due for the culprit.

"Yours." Lydia supplied with an unimpressed expression and a tilt of the head.

Derek sat back with a privet smile. It had been a while since he had gotten to work bringing the old Hale house back to a livable condition. And once the majority of it was done, the pack, without being asked, began coming over every Saturday to spend time all together. He'd see individuals pop in throughout the week, but he loved when they'd all be here together.

"No," Isaac defended. "I said we have, Clue, Uno, Scategories, and Monopoly. I never said I wanted to play this one."

"The way you said 'and Monopoly', made it sound like you did." Stiles offered with a look in his eye Derek couldn't place. "And who could say no to that adorable ridiculous scarf." He teased with kissy lips and a pinch to Isaac's cheek. Isaac swatted his hand away but his cheeks went red.

"If nobody wants to play I'd rather not waste my time." Boyd piped up, the first thing he's said since he reluctantly agreed to play this.

"Okay, we wanna do a different game or a movie?" Stiles offered starting to clean up the pieces into the box.

"Movie!" Erica cheered. "Who's turn is it to pick?"

Derek, who was already up and walking into the kitchen, stopped and checked the calendar on the wall. It was a calendar bought from the vet clinic with different dogs for every month, posing in costumes related to that month's holiday. You can guess who bought it.

Thinking of a name that rhymes with Biles Bilinski.

Who took the commitment to go through the calendar and alternate the pack's names on every Saturday, to mark their turn to choose. Since nobody could ever agree.

"Erica." Derek grinned with his back to the living room while Erica and Lydia cheered, while most of the boys groaned. Whenever it was either of them, they teamed up to find a movie literally only girls would like- according to Jackson. They've been made to watch The Notebook five times, The Princess Bride three times, and 10 Things I Hate About You four times.

Derek leaving the girls behind to settle on what to torture the boys with, he pulled bowls from the cabanit and a pot. Oiling the bottom of the pot, pour in corn kernels to coat the bottom. He covered the pot and let it heat up, turning to get butter from the fridge. But a hand was already on the fridge pulling it open.

Stiles always had a smile on his face when he was at the house, just as happy to be here with everyone as Derek was. Derek watched as Stiles took out the butter opened two sticks into a bowl from the dish rack and plopped it in the microwave. While the corn began popping Stiles and Derek danced around each other in the kitchen, working in perfect synchronicity to stock the large tray with canned drinks, bottles of water, and other various snacks.

Derek eyes all the sugary garbage on the try without making a sound. He had a sweet tooth sure, but he preferred actual baked goods, not the overly processed Debbie cakes and Oreo cookies they kept in the snack cabinet. Just as he was about to settle for just popcorn and water Stiles's hand came into view as he wordlessly put a bag of homemade cookies on the tray. Sharpie scrawled out 'sourwolf' with a smiley face on it.

Derek said nothing, watching Stiles turn and ready the three big bowls for the popcorn to be sorted into. Things like this made Derek feel like a very lucky man. Stiles never even thought about it, just did things like this. Not only for Derek but for the rest of the pack as well. Always taking one extra step to make sure everyone was happy.

Derek knew when Stiles was overthinking things; his nose would scrunch up, sometimes just the slightest bit, and he'd fidget a little more than usual. Derek knew what Stiles had to think before he did something, he never stopped to think about this stuff.

Stiles was a good friend, and Derek was happy he was pack.

After getting the popcorn buttered and evenly distributed they scooped everything up and brought it to the living room. Everyone was finding their seats on the two couches and the armchair, with a movie called Clueless qued up on Netflix.

Derek set the tray down, grabbed a water bottle and his cookies, and found his stop on the end of the couch he always takes. Stiles passed out the bowls of popcorn and settled in. Derek had gotten distracted watching Scott and Isaac fuss over who gets the last can of coke. He snorted dryly and turned to look at Stiles, who always and something to say about their childlike bickering.

Except when he turned to his left, it was the body that sat next to him. Boyd wasn't even paying attention to him. Huh, odd.

Derek looked over to the other couch where Stiles was squished in between Lydia and Erica who were explaining all the reasons Stiles was gonna love this movie. Stiles was smiling at the girls and chuckling, amused at how excited Erica was.

He was confused for a moment about why he assumed it would be Stiles sitting next to him. It didn't matter though, Stiles can sit anywhere, it's not like it matters.

He thought about it while everyone quieted down and the movie started.

Derek thought about all the previous times they settled in for movie night, and from what Derek recalled, Stiles sat by him every time. Derek thought about it for a moment and found himself amused.

If he told Stiles about it he knew what Stiles would say. Something about Pavlov, and Derek subconsciously thinking Stiles would always be next to him when they watched a movie because up until now he was.

But it didn't really matter where anyone sat, Derek convinced himself. He is just as happy sitting next to Boyd as he would be next to Stiles, or anyone else for that matter.

But as the movie went on, and Erica and Lydia both started leaning more onto Stiles, laughing at the funny parts and basically snuggling together, Derek decided he didn't like it.

Something in him became unsettled when by the second half of the movie Stiles started dozing off like he did almost every movie night, his head laying on Lydia's shoulder.

If Stiles were sitting over here, his head would fall onto Derek's shoulder like it always did. Stiles would wake up after the movie was over, everyone going home, and say something along the lines of 'good flick'. To which Derek would tease him for sleeping through most of it and use the drool on his shirt as evidence.

Derek didn't have a word to describe the feeling, didn't have the slightest clue as to what caused it, because it really didn't matter. The pack is pack, he was happy to see Stiles and everyone getting along so well, being so close, but it still bugged him.

After the movie was over, everyone did their share of cleaning up, said goodnight, and was out the door. Erica and Boyd being the last to go, as soon as the door was closed and locked, Derek sighed and his smile fell. This pit in his stomach only twisted more, when Stiles only gave him a one-word goodbye and offered Lydia a ride him.

"So," Isaac awkwardly swayed a little as Derek entered the kitchen. "Are you and Stiles fighting?"

"What?" Derek paused his stride through the room to stare at him.

"Well, tonight you guys," He studdered for a bit, the awkwardness he was feeling just asking very prevalent on his face. "Seemed off tonight. I don't know."

"No," Derek shook his head. "We're fine."

"Okay," Isaac clearly didn't believe him and bound up the stairs to his room.

Derek stood there for a moment and shook it off. He stuffed the feeling down like he did with almost anything unpleasant and went to bed.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

It was 11:43 pm. It was slightly rainy and cold out. Stars and the moon shone over the preserve, eliminating the front yard.

Derek stood in the kitchen leaning against the counter, watching out the window at the driveway. Sparing a glance at the clock every few minutes.

Isaac was late. Super late. Not answering his phone, not sending a single text.

He was about to give up waiting for something, anything when a familiar jeep rolled up the long dirt road and onto the gravel driveway.

"Man," He heard Isaac's faint voice from outside. "He's still up. I'm in deep shit."

Isaac followed with dragging feet as a very amused Stiles him and Scott up the front steps.

When they entered they kicked off their shoes and joined a very disappointed-looking Derek. He stood tall with his arms crossed over his chest. The three gathered in front of him awaiting hell to rain down, except Derek didn't fail to notice the subtle grin on Stile's face.

"You're late."

"Sorry, we lost track of time." Isaac pouted like a picked puppy.

"You have a phone."

"It died." He shrugged.

"Neither of you have phones?" Derek glared at the other two.

The three looked between themselves and gave each other the "why didn't we think of that" look.

Derek sighed pitifully, "If I ask you to be home by a reasonable hour I don't think that's too much to ask. Full moons right around the corner and-" He groaned pinching the bridge of his nose. "Don't worry me like this again, " He waved the topic away.

Issac nodded shamefully and muttered an apology. The fear of being reprimanded stayed firm in his eyes and stiff body. It almost made Derek feel guilty for being upset in the first place, but he knew he had every right to worry.

"It's fine." Derek shook his head. "I just need to know where you are or at least be able to get in touch with you if something happens. I was worried Isaac, I'm not mad."

Isaac nodded, taking a breath and relaxing his shoulders.

"How was the party?" Derek didn't care really, he just wanted Isaac to feel comfortable.

"Fun, the whole team was there. We got bored when everyone else was too drunk to even talk to so we bailed and got some food and Mami's Diner." Scott smiles recalling the evening.

"Yeah, parties aren't as fun when you can't get tipsy with everyone else."

"Too bad for you guys." Stiles sighed with a goofy grin. They all took their spots at the breakfast bar.

"You didn't drink a drop tonight though." Isaac pointed out.

"And trust one of you to drive my baby?" Stiles accused as if the two were actively planning a first-degree murder in front of him. They all merely chuckled at his dramatics and moved on from that.

"Derek," Scott started with a grimace. "Can I stay the night? Moms working a double and I don't wanna wake her getting home this late."

Derek shrugged, indifferent. He'd gotten the guestrooms ready from the rest of the back. Hell, any of them could show up wanting to spend the night, with no excuse or reason, and he'd be happy to have them. It's why the rooms are there.

"Me too!" Stiles piped up. "I have no reason, just too lazy to drive I guess."

Derek chuckled a little and welcomed them both to a guest room of their choosing.

Isaac excused himself to the bathroom to shower, as Derek led Scott and Stiles up the stairs. He showed off the finished rooms and let them pick and choose. Stiles picked the one next to his room, claiming dibs because the other room had a draft.

"How much work left is there?" Stiles asked mindlessly looking down the hall at the section of the house still covered in plastic to protect the new wood flooring. Tools, wood varnishes, and cans of paint sat out in the hall.

Derek motioned him down the hall as Scott, uninterested, entered the room on the other end and settled in for bed.

Stiles followed Derek into an unfinished bedroom and took a look around. Derek flicked on the lights he'd just wired and put in the other day. The drywall was fresh and the whole room was covered in plastic, tape guarding the fixings and crown molding. The room was nearly ready to be painted and furnished.

"Just need to fix the wiring to the other room, mount the shelving, and this window," Derek strolled over and giggled the latch. "Needs to be fixed or replaced at some point. It won't open."

Stiles nodded looking around and smiling to himself.

"Other than that, it's just fixing up the back porch and the half-bath downstairs." He turned to look at Stiles. "What?"

"Nothing," Stiles shrugged, smile never fading. "I'm just happy."

"About what?" Derek asked curiously approaching Stiles like he was about to get a pie in the face.

"I don't know. Just in a good mood tonight, I guess."

When Derek was close enough he stopped, twisting his head and pouting at a smell invading his nose. Stiles almost made a kicked puppy joke until he saw that something was defiantly bothering Derek.

"What is it?"

"You smell weird."

"Well, I was just at a party with about sixty or seventy drunk teenagers, so."

"No, it's," Derek stepped closer slowly, leaning in just enough into Stiles's personal space to not make him uncomfortable but close enough to get a good whiff of the insulting aroma. "You smell like-" Derek stopped and his face dropped a little, leaning back and eyeing a very confused Stiles.

"Never mind." He shook his head and turned the lights off as he walked out. "Goodnight, Stiles." He left Stiles standing there completely bewildered.

Derek locked himself up in his room and changed into sweats before climbing into bed. All with a deep frown dragging his features down.

Stiles smelled like arousal. Like sex. But it clearly wasn't Stiles's scent.

Stiles smelled like someone else's arousal.

Derek racked his barian all night who that prick could've been. Why was that prick all riled up and close enough to rub his lasting odor on him? Was Stiles dancing with someone at the party? Did Stiles make out with someone at the party?

At that question, his mind supplied him the images of Stiles bumping and grinding with some random dude, hands on Stiles's hips, moving and swaying with him. The creep Kissing up on Stiles's neck and lips and offering to go somewhere private.

Derek turned onto his side and shoved his head in under the pillow, hiding from the thoughts as he let himself be taken by sleep.

But that night all he dreamed about was chasing some faceless vermin through the woods; hunting him like he was nothing more than a feral wild wolf, despite still being completely human in the dream.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Danger came to Beacon Hills in the shape of Faeries.

Tiny winged spirits with a knack for trickery and mayhem. Derek wasn't sure how they ended up in Beacon Hills if they've just been migrating this way, or if someone let them loose. But people were getting hurt by their 'pranks' so they had to put a stop to it.

Tricking Faries was not an easy job in the slightest. But they managed it after a long night of chasing and fighting, finally trapping the three in silver cages and handing them over to Deaton; who swore he knew how to handle them and remove them from Beacon Hills safely.

The pack headed separate ways and most of them followed Derek back to the house. They arrived home just as the sun began to come up. Derek, still too anxious and worked up to sleep, went straight to work on the downstairs bathroom. He began preparing the grout to lay the tiles in place on the floor.

As he was checking the leveling of the pitch, he heard Stiles, "Need some help."

"Not really," Derek shrugged. It was a small bathroom, only enough room for one person to stand comfortably in between the sink and the toilet. Stiles sighed and started backing away.

Derek frowned and shook his head, not meaning to have come across as cold as he did.

"Actually, you can pass me tiles?" He offered, trying to brighten his tone. Stiles was plopped down just outside the doorway in a second. He smiled v\softly, almost unnoticeable, if it hadn't been for the fact that Derek noticed every detail about Stiles.

"You all grumpy with me for not staying behind like you said?"

"I'm not grumpy." He defended. Stiles gave him a look. "Yes." He sighed as if he was admitting to something as embarrassing as wetting the bed until you're fifteen.

Stiles chuckled, watching him work.

"You're not the only one that worries about everyone you know." Derek spared him a loot while reaching for a tile. "I know I'm human, der. You don't have to remind me that I don't heal, and I'm in more danger than most of you, but I still get this feeling that if I'm not there-"

Derek paused what he was doing to sit back and give Stiles his attention. Stiles started at him for a bit before continuing.

"I want to be there to look after you guys too. We've had close calls before, and nearly lost people. If I cared any less I'd listen to you when you tell me to stay back and out of the way, but I just have thing feeling that I need to be there in case something happens."

Derek gave him a sad smile. "And what if that something happens to you?"

Stiles frowned and lowered his head, shrugging. "If I can help, there's not really anything you can do to stop me from trying."

"Yeah," Derek nodded. "So I've learned."

Stiles chuckled and handed Derek another tile, smiling at him as he took the subtle hint the conversation had ended and turned back to laying the tiles in place. Stiles watched him intently, adoring the alpha.

"You got any plans tonight?" Stiles sighed when he was bored of the quiet.

"Back porch is fixed up, might get someone to help me put together the table, and cheers I ordered. Maybe fire up the grill?"

"That sounds fun." Stiles nodded, a look on his face like he was considering his options.

"You got a better idea?" Derek teased, because Stiles always had something to say about the activities Derek came up with.

"No, I just," He paused and thought to himself a moment. "I met this dude at the party the other night, and he texted me earlier asking if I'd be down to meet up later tonight."

Derek's heart sank a little. Oh, that prick.

"Oh," Derek nodded. He didn't wanna ask questions, he didn't wanna know. So Stiles just nodded.

"If it doesn't take too long I'll swing by after." Stiles delivered the empty promise with a grin. "Save some food for me."

Derek only nodded.

Stiles never showed.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Derek was in a bad mood.

Everyone in the house felt it and kept to their best behavior.

He didn't scowl or glare, he didn't yell or stomp around, he just kept his head down and mouth shut.

It was a Thursday night, and his betas had come over after the Lacross game like they always did. Boyd having joined the team, came along with the other players plus Erica, after every game. Although Jackson never showed, he only made an appearance when Lydia did.

Except tonight was different. Stiles hadn't come.

Apparently, Stiles was invited by the guy he met at the party to hang out after the game. A date.

He got all this from Erica who told him with a look of pity and confusion etched into her feature. Derek said nothing, just nodded, and went on making dinner for those who did show.

After eating they settled into the living room and watched a movie Derek wasn't paying attention to. He'd been on autopilot half the night, stuck in his head wondering about where Stiles was and what he was up to.

He didn't understand why he felt sick in his gut that Stiles was out with someone else.

It just made him feel dizzy with something he didn't have a word for. Every time he pictured Stiles laughing at the guy jokes, playing footsy under the table, holding hands on the walk back to the car, kissing on his front step- his chest tightened painfully.

He knew what this disgusting feeling was now, and he felt pathetic for it.

Derek stood and without a word went up to his room and crawled into bed.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Summer break had officially arrived and Derek was having the boys help him set up the pools in the back yard.

He hadn't seen Stiles in the past few days and it's been both wonderful and absolute agony. He was grateful to have a break from seeing Stiles's smile and shining eyes, hating knowing it was never for him. But he missed it all the same.

Either way, the space between them allowed Derek the room he needed to rebuild his walls. If Stiles was dating this other guy fine, Derek hadn't had a chance anyway. He'd very his heart and settle for just being pack.

The girls sat on the front steps far enough away from the guys on the other side to not hear their conversation. Even with super wolfy hearing.

"So, what happened?" Allison eyed the two who clearly knew more than she did. Both of them are closer to Stiles and Derek, respectively. "I was under the assumption they'd be giving us invitations to the wedding by graduation."

Erica chuckled sadly, "I don't know. But you should've seen Derek when I told him Stiles ditched us to go hang out with Markus."

"I don't know what's gotten into Stiles," Lydia grumbled, she hated being left out of the loop. "Just last month I was giving him advice on how to woo a man. Mind you, Markus was not the man I thought he'd be running off to woo."

"I don't think anyone thought that." Allison sighed.

"It's weird," Erica grumbled. "The past few days honestly feel like my parents are divorced. I only see either or, Stiles gets us on the weekends." Lydia laughed.

"How does that work?" Allison questioned.

"I don't know," The blonde shrugged leaning back on her hands. "I've never really asked. But it's all sort of instinctual. Like Derek is the alpha, he gives orders and dishes out punishments. Stiles is there to comfort our wounds and give Derek a smack upside the head if he's too hard on us."

"Instinctual?" Lydia grimaced. "Wait, like even your wolf thinks Stiles and Derek were on the road to being a thing?"

"Well," Erica sat up and frowned. "Honestly, before Stiles ran off with Merkus after the game and I told Derek about it, I thought they already were. It just made sense. Isaac said something a little while ago when I came over cause 'Mom and Dad are fighting again'. We all just kinda felt it I guess."

"Huh," Allison thought. Lydia smiled, the other two girls eyeing her suspiciously.

"What are you thinking?" Allison asked carefully.

"Oh," She smiled watching a blur jeep pull up the driveway. "Right on queue. Follow my lead ladies."

The two spared a look at each other before watching Stiles climb out of the jeep plastic bag in hand and a box-taped shut- under his arm.

"Hey, where is everyone?" Stiles eyed the house while approaching the girls.

"Outback." Erica supplied with a nod of her head.

"Surprised to see you showed up." Lydia offered, standing and going inside without giving him a chance to respond.

Allison followed without a word and Erica, slightly confused, gave him a quick look before rushing to follow. She didn't understand what Lydia's plan was but he didn't exactly wanna be left alone with him. She was not a fan of awkward situations.

Stiles stood there slightly hurt and very confused.

"What's wrong with you?" He asked following the girls into the kitchen. "What did I do now?" He busied himself unpacking the baked goods into the snack cupboard and the sunscreen he'll be needing later on the counter. He took a second to tuck the box off the side in the corner out of the way.

"It's nothing, Stiles." Lydia sighed, as though she was more hurt than anything else. The other two followed her mellow demeanor and avoided looking at Stiles.

"Okay," Stiles groans, getting a little paranoid. "So either I did something stupid and you're angry with me, or I did something really stupid and hurt your feelings?"

"Stiles," Lydia warned, lifting her hand to stop him from talking. "I don't wanna talk about it here, it's not my place."

"Heh," Stile let out a dry chuckle. "Since when is it not your place to talk about things I did to hurt you?"

"Cause you didn't exactly hurt me." Lydia put up a good front of being frustrated and emotionally exhausted.

The two were so focused on each other, that no one but Allison saw Erica's eyes widen and head start to shake as she motioned to the doorway leading out the back of the house.

"So I did do something stupid and hurt someone's feelings." Stiles nodded like he was finally getting to the bottom of it. "What happened?"

"Stiles," Lydia gave him a firm glare like it was supposed to be obvious what he did. Stiles just freaked out a bit at the knowing accusation in her tone and shrugged exasperated. "You broke things off with Derek!" She said louder than she really needed to.

Stiles blinked, obviously confused. "What?"

Erica cleared her throat, making the two look towards her and Allison who just started at something over their shoulders shifting awkwardly.

Stiles, mouth still slack with complete and utter confusion followed their gaze and looked to see Isaac and Derek standing there looking just as awkward. Well maybe, that was more Isaac.

"Um," Isaac cleared his throat daring a glance at Derek who stood completely still and stoic. "Pools ready."

Stiles looked around at each face in the room, all of them looking at him with uncertainty and then to Derek with sympathy.

"What?" Stiles asked again more exasperated. He gave everyone a look one last time before addressing the room as a whole, "There wasn't ever any breaking things off, me and Derek were never together."

"You weren't?" Issac asked completely unsure, looking to Derek for confirmation.

"Yea-" Stiles rolled his tongue along his lips and put his hands on his hips like an offended mother. "I think I'd remember being all up on that." He motioned to Derek who only raised a brow.

"Oh," Isaac nodded, still unsure. "You hen you and Markus... " He trailed off.

"Huh," Now Stiles looked really offended. "As if."

Lydia laughed at the unintended reference before she quieted herself and motioned the girls to ditch the awkward air with her. They all, as though if they moved too fast someone would be angry, stepped out into the hall and went the long way around back, through the front door.

"What is happening?" Stiles looked to the two completely bewildered as to where any of this was coming from all of a sudden.

"Um," Isaac looked to Derek who hadn't moved an inch. "I'm gonna-"

"Hold it!" Stiles raised his hand and pointed an accusatory finger at him. Isaac stopped in his attempt to back out of the room, frozen in place. "What the hell is all this drama about?"

"Um-"

"Say 'um' one more time, I'm gonna burn your scarf."

"Wh-" Isaac pouted for a moment before awkwardly shuffling between his two feet. "We kinda all thought you and Derek were, um-" He froze and dared a glance at a very unamused Stiles and an increasingly amused Derek. "Together, and you've been spending a lot of time with that Markus guy so we figured you two split-"

"That's enough." Stiles waved him away. Isaac was grateful and ran out back without a second glance.

Stiles sighed, facing Derek with a blank stare. Derek looked even more amused about all of this now that everyone was gone.

"You think this is funny?"

"I didn't realize that's the conclusion the pack came to." Was all he said.

"Well, we should probably make some things clear before the kids side with you in the divorce." Stiles scored playfully trying to hide his nervousness. He really didn't expect this to be the way he ended up addressing his and Derek's relationship.

"You think they'd take my side?" Derek raised a brow. "You're the one that spoils them."

Stiles just laughed, it's all he could do. They were standing ten feet apart, dancing around the subject.

Derek took a whiff of the air and smiled at the scent of stiles that became more and more permanent every time he came over. If it weren't for the past few days, and Isaac living here, Stiles was here the most out of everyone.

"So," Derek tried to think of the jerk's name, "Markus, you guys aren't," He made and gesture with his hands, looking away from Stiles.

"No, god no."

"Right," He nodded, "Cause when you came home from that party, you smelled like. . ."

"What?" Stiles tilted his head. He remembered being left in the dark room wondering what made Derek look so uncomfortable, and actually a little angry. He had a hard time trying to sleep cause his mind kept asking questions.

"A stranger, and sex." Derek put it bluntly. Stiles's eyes bulged out of his head and Derek almost laughed.

"What? No," Stiles recoiled in shock, not expecting him to say that.

"Then you started leaving us behind to go hand out with this guy you met at the party." Drek shrugged.

"The dude I met is not-" He stopped himself from saying the word, it sounded too absurd. "I met Markus, he was DD'ing for his friends, we got to talking. He offered to pay me to help him study. That's it!"

Derek nodded in understanding. He didn't need to hear Stile's heartbeat to tell that was the truth.

"Must have been a good amount of money for you to ditch the pack twice," Derek said, not really making it a question. Stiles chewed on his lip as Derek approached the kitchen island and leaned on it. "What?"

Stiles sighed turning to grab the box and placing it on the island and slinging it over to Derek. "The allowance I get from Dad every now and then wouldn't have been enough."

Derek stared at him for a moment before turning his attention to the box curiously and carefully opening it.

"It's just a housewarming gift," Stiles shuffled in place, looking anywhere but Derek.

Derek looked down in the box at stacks of plates and bowls, cups, all individually wrapped. Derek took a plate and gently tore it free from the plastic wrap, examining the intricate royal blue patterns along the edges, and the vibrant red and yellow flowers painted in the center. The flowers are arranged in the vague shape of a wolf, with leaves surrounding it like a nest. The dish was glossy, polished, and shinny, and smelled of somewhere old but clean. turning it over he saw painted in very neat handwriting, "The family is One of Nature's Masterpieces. Proberty of Hale, made by A. Bartosz."

Derek looked up to Stiles who started at the plat in his hands.

"Um, they're hand-painted, I went to a place out in Allens Town. A polish place. You've been using paper plates and stuff so I figured," Stile trailed briefing a look at Derek before returning his gaze to the plate. "In Poland, there's a belief that the beauty of the dish enriches the flavor of the food. You're always cooking for everyone so I thought-" Stiles cut himself off with a sigh and scratched the back of his neck.

Derek carefully set down the plate and walked around to Stiles who was still looking anywhere but him.

Next thing Stiles knew, he was warm. Really warm. Warm around his waist from Derek's arm, warm in his cheek where Derek held, warm on his lips where Derek kissed.

Stiles melted against him with a relieved sigh. It felt like he was in a dream he never wanted to wake up from. A dream the never thought would come true, no matter how many times Lydia told him to go for it.

He lifted his hands and placed them firmly on Derek's chest, one sliding further up to the base of his neck. He had no idea what he was doing, and he was fairly certain Derek knew it based on the rumble of laughter in his chest. But he followed Derek's lead and soon found a rhythm that made Stiles's knees weak.

When Derek finally pulled away, Stiles straight-up whined in protest, earning a chuckle from the alpha.

"Thank you," He smiled softly stroking Stiles's cheek with his thumb.

Stiles was giddy at the affection, smiling dreamily up at Derek. It made something in Derek stir back to life. The walls he tried to build back up the past few days crumbled down around him as Stiles pushed up into another kiss, hands coming up around his neck and into his hair. Derek hugged and his waist and pulled his impossibly closer, sighing in contentment.

"No," They heard a sudden shout, pulling apart and looking to the back door. Erica was moving away with her back to them heading back into the yard. "They're busy eating each other faces!"

"Oh, my god." Stiles groaned. Derek only chuckled turning back to Stiles and pulling him back in.

≫ ────── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ────── ≪

•Kermitts Masterlist•

[dedalvs]

I don't think that any of your conlangs are progressive enough to express being trans, but if they were, how would they? What about other gender/sexuality things?

That first clause is quite a thing to say. Languages aren't progressive. Their users may be, but the languages aren't anything. They're just languages. If you mean they're not modern (i.e. a lot of the languages I create are for cultures that are somewhat antiquated compared to our world), this is true, but that doesn't necessarily mean the languages won't have terminology for different gender identities.

There is a major assumption here, though. My understanding (and please do note: I am a cis man; please feel free to correct), cis and trans individuals, as opposed to nonbinary and genderfluid, are similar in that neither have any doubt about what gender they are, identifying with either male or female. So if any language I've created has a word for "man" or "woman", then there's sufficient vocabulary for a trans individual to express their identity that way.

However, there is a terminological difference, and it's both an individual choice and societal preference: Whether to identify as one's chosen gender identity, as trans, or both (e.g. "I am a woman", "I am trans", or "I am a trans woman"—and then preferring to use one of those or all of those, or some other combination of the three). My personal language preference (as a user and language creator) is fewer distinctions are better (why have three third person singular pronouns—or four or twelve—when you can have one?), because it's less to memorize, less work to use, and demands less specificity of the user—and allows the hearer/reader to make fewer assumptions. Unless the situation calls for it (e.g. the gender system hard-coded into Ravkan in Shadow & Bone), I prefer lumping rather than splitting. This is especially useful as I'm often not in charge of the culture I create languages for.

For example, the languages I've created for A Song of Ice and Fire were for cultures created and maintained by George R. R. Martin. Whatever cultural innovations I have made in creating the languages are, at best, pending—that is, true until George R. R. Martin says otherwise, which he is free to do at any time, as it's his world. As a result, I don't feel confident enough to say what life is like for a trans individual in his world, and how that might be reflected in the languages there. There's simply not enough information.

Where I might be in charge of the culture, you do know my preference now (i.e. fewer distinctions), but, as I am not trans, I'd prefer to leave it to the trans community to decide, and then do what I can to support those decisions linguistically (i.e. to make it work within the language). Any term chosen highlights some aspect of the experience while downplaying others. In English, trans, coming from transition, highlights the change from one identity to another. Other ideas for how to come up with a term might be using a root that refers to "true", highlighting the transition to one's true gender expression. Perhaps another root to look for would be "choose", framing it as one's chosen gender expression—IF one wishes to look at it that way.

In many ways, both the term and the experience are highly individual, and it's difficult to come up with a blanket term and say "this is the term". It's especially difficult since this isn't a life experience I share. It feels both disingenuous and a bit icky to come up with a term to describe an experience that is decidedly not my own.

My own preference in this regard is a twofold approach:

Allow trans users of whatever language to figure out what term works for them, and then support them in creating a term that obeys the various language rules (i.e. the phonology is correct, derived words are derived correctly, etc.). Those users, however, will be operating under the same "rules" that I operate under, e.g. the one who's creating the culture has the final say, if they care to weigh in, and so the result may end up not being canon, at which point it's up to the user to decide whether they care or not. (Note: I shouldn't have to explain it here on Tumblr, but, of course, you don't have to care if the creator of the canon says something isn't so, no matter how many billions they have.)

Allow polysemy. There will never be a term that is THE term. It may be an individual's preferred term, but someone else may like another, in which case it should be allowed.

A very important language-specific note (and the same is true of fandom, generally). By agreeing to work within a language, we're essentially agreeing to rules of a game. The rules can always be broken. When rules are broken, the question language users have to answer is if they've been broken so egregiously that they're no longer playing the game, or if it's fine. For example, if you look at fanfic, there's plenty of fanfic with gender-swapped characters, or the same characters in a radically different setting. Some readers may decide they don't want the characters to be gender-swapped. Others may decide that if it's not in the same setting they're not interested. And that's fine! Both the writers and the readers are deciding which rules of the game can be broken while still calling it the same game. This works very, very well so long as no one gets mad at anyone else. If someone says, "I don't enjoy this because it breaks the rules in a way that ruins my enjoyment", that's perfectly fine. If that same person says, "You're not allowed to break the rules in this way", that's not fine.

So hopefully this all makes sense. And, furthermore, when I say I want to support those who wish to create their own terms, I do mean it. If anyone has suggestions or needs help coining a possible word, feel free to message me! But do bear (2) above in mind. I'm not going to say any term is THE term, and have that be the end of it. It'll be one possibility amongst a rainbow of possibilities.

[youmakethelight]

Dear AMC

Okay, so here's where I'm at following the David Zabel quotes released yesterday. I truly hate to be in this negative mindset and I wanted my tumblr to be a fun space only, but it's what I'm feeling, so I'm going to get it out. This is the most serious post I'll ever write (hopefully) so buckle up.

I'm not doing this because I don't want to continue to spread joy about caryl. I'm doing this because, if there's any chance, however small, that I can help to make a positive difference for the people I've come to care about, then I'm going to do that. This is because I care about female representation and empowerment. And because I care about what these stories mean to and for people, and especially people who relate to characters who have experienced abuse. Holding these characters' stories is a responsibility and those who do so need to be held accountable for how they do it.

I'm going to talk a lot now, but it's going to mainly be about Melissa, Isabelle's character, David Zabel, Greg Nicotero, and the idea of romantic caryl. I'm going to try to break it up into sections just because it's so long.

Melissa

Melissa McBride snuck up on me. I started watching TWD a couple of years after it first aired and like many, I fell for Daryl as a character. I observed his chemistry with Carol and always thought their relationship was something special. But like many, I gave up on the show around season 6/7. When TWD was released on Now TV in the UK this year, I decided to catch up, and season 9 hooked me on #caryl. Specifically, I was mesmerised by Melissa McBride and I've only grown to love her more. It's been beautiful finding the fandom and realising that Melissa McBride is the beating heart of it. She might not have as many Twitter followers as Norman Reedus, but she is valued more than I have seen any actor and she honestly doesn't even have to try. Fans will support her for walking to a car. I like Norman but I love Melissa.

Melissa looks happier than I have ever seen her look and she is honestly the only thing that has been keeping me tethered to any hope that I will enjoy this spinoff. My hype has been 100% driven by Melissa and how she has spoken about being back. I've already paid for Carol merch, which is something I never do. And if it wasn't for the fact I knew she was coming back at the end of season 1, I honestly wouldn't have watched Daryl Dixon. After investing in their relationship over 12 years of TWD, I'm not interested in seeing Daryl solo travel the globe and find a girl in every port. I'd rather watch something else and pretend the spinoff doesn't exist. But since Melissa is here and she's happy, I've still been hooked.

Seeing Carol confront her trauma surrounding Sophia is something I have been wanting for years. Since I started watching TWD again this year, all you'd ever hear me say is "why does no one ever talk about Sophia?". So I am beyond happy that story is receiving a spotlight in season 2. And I sense this is what Melissa is happy about too.

Beyond that, I really feel like Melissa doesn't have much space for her own voice. At SDCC, she said that she's quiet on her EP notes because she's the new person. And David Zabel made a joke that she doesn't want to make him cry (hilarious). Of course, I have no idea what the reality is, but my gut feeling is that Melissa is happy that she finally had some control with her character's own story after 14 years. But I truly don't believe she has even been given the space to think about how she *personally* would like the caryl story to look, let alone what they choose to do with the other major female character's story. I think Melissa respects Norman and trusts him with that part of the story. She knows he's had more power with the other producers - he was there for all of season 1, it's his name on the title of the show, and he chose the showrunner and writers.

And as for everything else, Melissa has spent the majority of her career in a male-dominated genre, all of her most powerful coworkers are part of that demographic, and in response to caryl, she has been the target of misogyny and ageism that is ongoing today. If I were her, I'd feel I can only speak so loud for so long before someone feels I've stepped on their toes.

While I do believe Norman cares about her deeply, I don't have any reason so far to trust that he understands the nuances of sexism well enough to be able to make the calls I'd want him to make. I really feel that if he did, he would never have agreed to the half naked shipbait nun scene in season 1. On to my next section...

Isabelle, David Zabel and Greg Nicotero

I will die on the hill that Isabelle's story should never have been touched by any inkling of shipbait, because she is a dedicated nun. The idea of romance for her present day story (especially with the male lead) grossly over-simplifies the decisions that led her to become a nun.

I do personally feel that the isabelle-laurent-daryl surrogate family idea is *pretty much* just that. I think, personally, DZ is lying when he says that the idea of romance wasn't manufactured. I think he wants us to believe that what we see on screen is organic. Absolutely nothing about the half naked wound helping scene, the happy stares across rooms with a happy score, and the 'isabelle just woke up in hospital and oh look its daryl's crossbow he must have been looking over her' scene is organic. Those are manufactured. Until episode 6, I liked isabelle and I think clemence is great. But daryl and isabelle's chemistry is non existent. I honestly think calling it a friendship is a stretch. Maybe the god awful, problematic "are you going to do to laurent what your dad did to you" could have been forgiven if they'd genuinely had any compelling bond whatsoever, but they didn't, and at best, it came off as needy. At worst (and what it actually was) was emotionally abusive. The thing I have always loved about caryl is that they *never* guilt-tripped each other like that. I really hope Zabel knows that line was truly offensive.

So anyway, I don't know, I think DZ would have liked it to go romantic, but nobody liked it. And based on the way they talked about it at SDCC, I think Norman is set on the idea it's really all about Laurent, and Isabelle is just another adult who cares about the kid so he cares about her too. However, I do think Nicotero and Zabel are invested in the idea that Daryl is falling for her. Nicotero in particular is obsessed with the idea that Daryl's falling for her while he doesn't know Carol is on her way - I actually find him enjoying that idea repulsive. So, I think they've written some ship bait in there, but I think Norman's acting choices will be reluctant. So, as long as there isn't something physical between them, I think Norman and Melissa's chemistry can recover from it. But. Zabel (and Nicotero) are showing their true colours.

While we're on Nicotero. I recently discovered that he has spoken about supporting b*thyl before. So, if that doesn't tell you everything you need to know about him and his idea of how women and romance should be presented on screen in 2024, I don't know what will.

Romantic Caryl

Finally, I want to address the idea of whether Carol and Daryl should or could add a romantic element to their relationship. Lots of people that I agree with have already written well articulated thoughts about this, including this by my-mt-heart. My personal feelings are these.

Carol and Daryl have built a layered, deep, and emotionally rich relationship over 11 seasons of TWD. Fans are aware of the romantic layers throughout the years, and even those who don't follow it closely can see the romantic potential. It would be a disservice to fans to let those years of layering and emotional depth fall flat. And frankly, so many fans simply won't follow. (And if you're worried about fans who don't like the idea not watching - well, honestly, I don't like R*chonne. Love them both individually but I never saw the chemistry and it felt random to me. But I still watched them and cared about them and their story and I even watched The Ones Who Live despite cringing the whole time.)

The creative opportunities are huge. Carol and Daryl are not a stereotypical love story by any means. Their dynamic has been fuelling creative minds for over a decade. I would personally admire any showrunner/writer who steps up to the challenge. Alternatively, not bothering comes across as lazy and cowardly to me.

At this point, there's absolutely no doubt in the audience that Carol and Daryl are soulmates. Their happy ending has been an important theme for a while now. And they are the characters that fans care about. Even fans who don't care about whether they have a romantic relationship agree that their idea of a happy ending would be with each other (and Dog). This wouldn't have to be romantic, but since we know that they are both interested in romantic relationships and have some romantic foundations together - why not? No other romantic relationship either of them could have is ever going to match up against Daryl and Carol's relationship. And why should they both be deprived of romance if they are both interested in romantic relationships? Who does that serve?

The idea that two people can so selflessly love each other for over a decade and end up together romantically is the ultimate bond of love. Suggestions that romance would 'cheapen' or 'ruin' a bond make me question what those people think romance means. It isn't the same as R*chonne's romance. It's quiet and calm and careful. It's two damaged souls uplifting each other. So many viewers are empowered by that sort of story.

It would show that AMC are progressive and not ageist or sexist.

Final thoughts

I can't express enough how much I wanted to ignore all of my doubts about this spinoff because of Melissa's involvement and because I genuinely do trust her creative imagination more than anyone. But the comments by Zabel that were released yesterday have brought back the pit I was feeling in my stomach. I trust Melissa and I will always trust Melissa. But I don't trust Zabel. I don't trust that Zabel is doing right by Melissa or by the characters of Carol and Daryl. That doesn't mean that I think he's evil and doing nothing at all right. I just truly believe that we deserve better and Melissa deserves better.

I will give all of my hard earned cash and time to Melissa projects, but I won't do the same for Zabel, or even Norman without Melissa.