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liyawritesss · 1 year

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YOUR EARTH 42 MILES FIC WAS SO FUCKING GOOD OMFG👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾 of your taking requests can you write about how prowler miles met his girl and how he rizzed her up please? Only if you want to of course and again I only read one thing by you but your writing got me hooked!!!!

ᴀʟʟ ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪꜱ ɪ ʙᴇ ʟᴏᴠɪɴ' ʏᴏᴜ

Characters: Spiderverse!Earth-42!Miles Morales x Black!Fem!Reader

Type: Fic

Word Count: 3.7k

Synopsis: The sequel to i really like what you’ve done to me, Miles reflects on his first encounter with you, and how he immediately made it his mission to make you his.

Warnings: Cursing….thats about it, I think

A/N: This was a long one in the making and I think I actually like my characterization of 42!miles here. I didn’t wanna make him overly edgy or overly hood or anything, and I hope that you guys will appreciate the subtlety of his personality here. Hope you all enjoy!

Tags: @6-noir @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @jacuzziwaters @mbakuetshurisprincess @shuriszn @verachii @writingintheshadowsforever @cafehyunji @niyahwrites @marsfunzon22 @briology @honeybleed @romiantic @queenofthespiderverse @onlyperc @starsoirees @yasminisbroke @asensitivecookie @kdyance @sussybaka10 @famedrs-blog @milesismyhubby @foreclosure--of--a--dream

Miles remembers the day he first talked to you so clearly. It was almost as if it were yesterday.

The middle of the semester had always been prime time for teachers to start assigning end of semester projects, and while Miles was lucky enough for majority of his classes to have only assigned him individual projects, there was always one class that such a fortune was never the case in.

When the teacher was calling out pairs there was a part of Miles that dreaded who his partner would be. He hoped it wasn't a slacker - he'd had his fair share of irritation and headache from those types of students who never took their schooling seriously. Then again, he didn't necessarily have to, either, considering his uncensored brilliance already, but at least he still made an effort to look like he made an effort. Others didn't have the same sentiment.

He didn't know most of his classmates personally, but knew the ones he needed to know by name and face; due to previous instances of being paired with them for projects in this same fashion. The fact that most of his old project partners were consistently placed in the same classes as him reinforced the begrudging familiarity that came with them. Though there were a few select people out of that circle that he'd found himself knowing of due to other circumstances - clumsiness in the halls, points of contact for school activities, etc.

So when the teacher called Miles' name and the name of his partner, it wasn't a surprise to himself when his head turned to the side to look for them. What did surprise him, however, was when he turned to the seat next to him, only to have found it empty.

He can't recall if he's ever seen the seat empty since he's been in this class, missing the presence of the person who he deemed to be a good student. Always on time, always exact; work turned in, always complete, and always paying attention to the lectures. Their own interactions were limited to the passing of worksheets, exchanges of pencils and the occasional conversations of how irritating the teacher was being.

Miles wouldn't consider the shared interactions to be that one friendship - it was more akin to general acquaintanceship. Though, deciphering her character from said limited interactions, he knew that this was not in normal behavior for the girl. Eyebrows furrowed at the lack of her presence, questioning where she could have been.

Since his partner wasn't there, Miles had been left with a brainstorming worksheet to fill out on his own, but his mind was not on the project. He found himself still wondering about his partner's whereabouts. He could have sworn he'd seen her that day, walking the halls with the same two girls she'd been friends with since the school year started. While the same two girls were in class, having been paired together for the project, the missing girl wasn't. So, when the ring of the bell sounded, signaling the end of the day, Miles knew what his first course of action was to be.

"Aye, yo," his voice carries over to the two girls who'd been packing their supplies up, ready to begin their after school activities of sneaking off campus to go to the mall, "where yo' friend at?"

The first girl, with soft locs pulls into a high pony and shiny lip gloss adorning her lips, who he knew by the name of Key, scrunched her face in a grimace

"What's it to you, boy?" She says chastely, giving him a quick once over.

"C'mon, nah," Miles presses, "y'all know she my partner for this stupid project. I'm just tryna get this shit over with, a'ight?"

The other friend answers next - one of his ex-project partners Taji - her chin resting in her hand, fingers decorated with matte brown coffin shaped nails resting against her cheek. "We ain't seen her since lunch. Said she was gon' go to her locker for sumn' but ain't never come back to the table."

Miles' brow arches, as if quizzing her answer, trying to determine the validity of it. Taji catches onto this, and shoots a similar expression back to him.

"What, you thinkin' I'm lyin' to you, nigga?"

"Are you, Taj?"

"Boy, what I got to lie to you for?"

Taji and Miles had a similar acquaintanceship to that of him and (Y/N), with the former being his partner for a project for their shared arts class in their sophomore year. She was a talented artist, not to mention the one person able to reawaken his love for art, even if it was to a small degree.

"A'ight, whatever, y'all ain't no help."

He let out a sigh, dismissing the girls’ seemingly secretive antics with a wave of his hand, before tucking the same one in his pocket, preparing to leave the classroom. He didn’t have time to entertain the two girls before him, and believed it best to leave them be and return to his dorm room to figure out the project on his own.

“Check the rooftops,” Miles heard Taji say as half of his body begins to cross the threshold of the classroom door. It makes the boy stop in his tracks, turning his head back to see the two girls as they stand as well, gathering their belongings to leave for the day as well, “or somewhere around there.”

“The rooftops are locked, dummy,” Miles corrects, “janitors here ain’t that lazy and ignorant.”

“Oh, so you weren’t just up there a week ago?” Taji replies back, a tinge of tease in her voice, knowing she’s caught him red handed when a small bulge forms on his cheek.

“Yeah, nigga, tighten up, cuz you lackin’.”

“Shut up, big head.”

The faint echo of snickering lingers as Miles leaves the classroom, heavy footsteps carrying him down the hall to the maintenance door that leads to the rooftops.

It’s a routine he’s done many times before, the muscle memory set into motion the second he sees the custodian cart next to the doorway, with the clip of keys attached to the lanyard hanging off the side handle. Expert fingers grab hold of the clip and slide off the first bronze colored key distinguishable for all the maintenance doors in the building - including the rooftop door. Before the custodian exits the bathroom situated next to the maintenance door, Miles is long gone and heads up the next three flights of stairs to reach the navy blue metal door to the school's rooftop.

Miles had become well acquainted with the rooftop of Visions Academy. After the death of his father, he found solace in solitude. He couldn’t skip school and stay in his dorm or return to his apartment, because both would result in his mother worrying and stressing over him and his uncle getting on his ass about the importance of school and sending his mother into more distress than what she was already enduring. He’d come across the remote haven on accident; one morning when he arrived at school earlier than anyone else, he’d made a wrong turn into what he thought was his homeroom, but upon recognizing the darker and tinier corridor he had entered, realized he had in fact entered one of the maintenance hallways. Curiosity got the better of the dark skinned boy, and upon climbing the three flights of stairs, came across an unlocked metal door that lead to the school's rooftop.

For months, that would be his routine. Arriving a couple of hours before classes began to spend time by himself upon the school’s rooftop. He’d watch the sunrise above the Brooklyn skyline, allowing the heat to melt the cold exterior of his skin, shaking off the bitterness that came from lack of sleep and a racing mind from the night before. Miles and the morning sun became good acquaintances that way, greeting each other at each sunrise; it became one of very few things he looked forward to in those days, and continued to be his secret motivation to peel himself from his bed in the morning to attend the school his mother and father worked hard to put him in.

His hand grasps onto the door hand and twists, pushing the door outward and Miles is immediately washed in the evening sun. He steps onto the concrete ground, scanning the area in front of him for the presence of another. The corner in which he usually occupies is empty, and there’s nothing much to see at the moment but scattered leaves on top of firm grayness.

Black and white Jordan turn and trail around the side of the rooftop doorway, still searching for any sign of another's presence. Taji’s tip is proven correct when his eyes land upon a feminine figure, and there’s a slight wave of relief crosses his face upon finally finding the girl who’d been missing from class two hours before.

“Yo.” Miles calls out to her, and yet there is no reaction. With his eyebrows furrowed, he calls out again, but there is no response once again. He begins to walk further towards her, confusion beginning to settle in, but is then relieved when he notices a book in her lap; as well as earbuds that become visible the closer Miles steps towards her.

There’s a peaceful air that surrounds the girl, and there’s a part of Miles that doesn’t want to disturb her, but as much respect as he has for the other, he’ll be damned if he has to wait until next week to explain this project to her. So, with a short sigh, Miles reaches his hand out to touch her shoulder, calling out to the girl for the third time.

“Aye-” he begins, and all it takes is a touch on her shoulder for the girl to jump away from his touch in shock. A short yelp - more like a squeak, if anything - erupted from her mouth, which made Miles purse his lips tight to keep the snort he wanted to release at bay.

“Jesus, fuck-” you curse, shoulders dropping and a sigh leaving your lips the moment you realized who it was.

“You know that’s dangerous, right?” Miles asks, raising a finger to create circular motions towards his own ear before gesturing to you. “Having those things in on max; what if you was out on the street?”

A scowl forms on your lips as you take out one of your earbuds, stopping the music you had filtering into your ears as you were deep into your reading. You held the book by the spine, thumb placed in between the pages and forefinger on the hardcover spine. “I know not to do that on the street,” you reply, “I was just tryna read my book, before you decided to scare the living shit out of me.”

The boy rolls his eyes at your words, then follows your form as you take to sitting on the concrete ground, using the side of the ventilation bed to lean against. A second of silence passes between the two of you, before Miles finds himself sitting in the spot you once occupied, with wiring fans sounding behind him softly.

“You ain’t come to class today,” Miles voices, hands tucked into the pockets of his black and white Brooklyn letterman jacket as he focuses his gaze onto you. The soft click of you closing your earbud case sounds as you pocket them into your jacket to give the other male your attention, “what was that about?”

It takes you a minute to respond, and Miles isn’t sure if it was because you were coming up with an excuse that would satisfy him, or if you were buying your time for the question to be unanswered. “You know we got them projects assigned today, right?”

“That’s exactly why I ain’t go,” you answer, finally, “there’s an odd number in that class. Was hoping that I’d just be able to do somethin’ by myself instead of being partnered with some lazy ass who don’t be doin’ shit for real.”

“Damn,” the boy breathes with a chuckle, amused by her colorful choice of words, “ain’t even give me a chance and I’m already being called lazy, that’s crazy.”

It takes you a moment to catch on to his tease, at first furrowing your brows as you deciphered what his words meant. As realization dawned on you, your brows rose apologetically, having now realized the possible severity of your words.

“No, wait- shit, I didn’t mean like that-”

“You cool, chill,” the dark skinned boy reassures, “I know what you mean.”

He watches as another sigh leaves your lips, in relief that your words were not misunderstood, but also in response to his little joke, and he can’t help but to chuckle again. “You right, though. Don’t nobody in that class do shit for real.”

That little jest did garner a laugh from you, and Miles can tell it’s one of comfort and ease. It’s the kind of laugh his mother would share with him after a long shift at the hospital where she’d have to put up a professional front, and she finally is able to shed the protective exterior and be her cheeky self. It’s the kind of laugh that signifies the forming of bond between people; the development of a relationship; the start of something new.

“A’ight, here’s the deal,” says Miles, his hand coming from the pocket of his jacket, rubbing his nose out of habit, then leaning on his knee to grow closer to you, “we both don’t wanna do this project ‘cus it’s a waste of time-”

“A huge waste of time-”

“-but if we do this project, I can prove to you I’m not a lazy ass.”

He watches as you feign a look of thought, eyes casted upward, lips pursed together with a little hum rumbling from your throat. After a moment, your eyes geared over towards Miles, a teasing smile gracing your lips, before finally answering him; “A’ight, sure.”

You start to rise, and Miles does as well, outstretching a hand to help you up from your seating position. As you dust off the bottom of your skirt from the debris on the ground, Miles picks up your bookbag from the ground and hands it to you once you’ve adjusted yourself appropriately.

If Miles would have been told that he would be dating the girl who was partnered with him for their end of year project, he’d look at you as if you just called him out of his name. And yet, as he glances down at his phone, eyes scanning over your good morning messages together, he finds himself secretly thanking that teacher for pairing them up; he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“Hey, Unc?” says the younger, breaking the comfortable silence shared between the two, the ambiance of the morning radio the only sound echoing throughout the car.

“Yeah?” For a second, Miles purses his lips together. He spends a few seconds looking down at the screen of his phone and at the road ahead, as if contemplating on his next words carefully. It doesn’t take much for Aaron to notice the shift in behavior. “What is it?”

The younger’s tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, creating an extrusion on the side of Miles’ face, before he speaks; “You hungry?”

It’s an odd question posed, Aaron thinks, as it’s one that’s honestly never been posed in this section of their shared routine. Once a job was finished, especially when it went well into the night, and cleanup and debriefing happened during the early morning hours, both were too exhausted to let the thought of hunger cross their minds. Aaron raises an eyebrow at the question, beckoning the younger to explain further, “Am I…hungry?”

“Yeah,” says Miles, “my girl, she uh, she made breakfast, and asked if I wanted a plate. So I was askin’ you if you wanted one too-”

The look on Aaron’s face turned from confusion to bewilderment, and the previous expression was mirrored onto Miles’ face the second his sentence finished. “Why you lookin’ like that?”

A moment passed. A smile cracks onto Aaron’s face, a chuckle falls from his thick lips, a teasing tone already etched into his voice as he begins to speak.

“Oh no-”

“Aww, shit-!”

“Please, tio, don’t-”

“She can cook, too?”

And for the next few second, Miles is sunken into the passenger seat as all he can do is allow the onslaught of teasing and pestering from his uncle to cause heat to rise up his neck at a staggering temperature. In between the questions of other endearing qualities his nephew’s girlfriend may have had, the GPS within the car directs the older to said girlfriend’s address, of which had been keyed in during Aaron’s banter. Amidst it all, the growling of their stomachs was undeniable.

After a series of turns, the pair eventually reached your block, the familiar brownstone buildings and plotted trees along the sidewalk illuminated beautifully by the morning sun. “Right here,” Miles says as he points to the specific brownstone with your address on it, the older easily slipping into the parking spot in front of the building.

The younger mumbles a ‘be right back’ before he slips from the car, leaving Aaron in his own solitude, finding amusement in the entire ordeal. Never had he thought he’d be offered a plate of food by his nephew’s girl, and yet, he finds himself reliving the almost identical situation to the time Jefferson wanted to pull up to Rio’s home for a warm plate of empanadas. It had been the first time he had met Rio, and if Miles was anything like his father, then this would be the first time he’d meet the girl that stole his nephew’s heart.

Thirty minutes pass before Miles emerges from the reddish-brown door, and Aaron would have told the boy off for having him wait for long for a plate he offered, if he hadn’t seen the young lady he’d assume to be his girlfriend trailing behind the dark skinned boy.

“Remember, the one on top is your uncles since he doesn’t like pork bacon. And be careful because the food is still hot, I don’t want y’all to burn your mouths-”

“Baby,” Miles says, his tone warm and comforting as his freehand comes to your waist, the other holding the white bag of styrofoam containers containing the breakfast you had prepared, “I know, it’s okay. I’m not gon’ steal his turkey bacon.”

“Yeah, you better not.” You mumble against the skin of his cheek before pressing your lips to the soft skin, pressing deep into the flesh as if to burn the imprint of your lips onto his skin. Once your lips parted from the first kiss, a series of pecks met Miles’ cheek, causing the boy to smile unconsciously by the softness of your touch.

Miles’ wandering eyes caught the sight of his uncle peering through the car window, snickering at the pair, but just as soon as he was caught, the older resumed his original position; though the attempt to restrain the tug on his lips proved to be a struggle. “Is that your uncle?” You ask, innocent but hesitant, not wanting to cross a boundary. Though the state of your relationship was healthy and stable, with lots of communication and expressions of love shared amongst the both of you, Miles had made it clear that easing you into meeting his mother and uncle would be something to take seriously. They were all he had left, and he wanted to make sure that what the two of you had, and were working to develop, was something long term and lasting. The last thing he wanted was for his relationship to crash and burn the second he wanted to connect the most significant people in his life together.

“Yeah, that’s him,” Miles replies, a slight tug on one side of his lips as he turns to glance at the car, then back towards you, “do you wanna say hi?”

You barely understood the words the other had asked you before nodding excitedly. Though as the two of you descended down the tan concrete stairs, across the sidewalk and to the side of the care, the revelation slowly dawned on you that you were meeting Miles’ uncle, and you had no idea why all of a sudden you felt conscious of the loungewear set you’d chosen to dawn that morning while you made breakfast, or the fact that if was through the window of his car - both being the exact opposite of how you wanted your first meeting with Miles’ family to go.

Aaron took the hint with both of you approaching the car, and rolled down the passenger window to speak to the two of you clearly.

“Unc,” Miles starts, taking his hand from your waist to gesture between you and Aaron, “this is (Y/N); and babe, this is my Uncle Aaron.”

There seemed to be a second of stalling on your end, before you took a step forward, bending at the knees slightly to meet Aaron’s eyes. His one hand rested on the steering wheel, his other arm leaning on the arm rest, propping him up.

“Hi, Mr. Davis,” you said, doing your bets to refrain from stuttering, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Hello to you, too, miss lady,” the older replies, “it’s nice to meet you, too. I heard you made breakfast for us?”

You nodded with a polite smile, “I was just in the mood to cook, and I figured Miles may be hungry; he said you were with him, so I only thought it right to make you a plate, too.”

Aaron purses his lips together in an expression of approval, eyes moving from yours to his nephews as his head bobbing in a slow motion. “Oh, yeah, she’s good, man.”

“Tio, please-” Miles whines, which garners a chuckle from his uncle and a giggle from you; and for a second, the feeling that formed in the pit of his stomach the first time he made you laugh returns. The kind of laughs that signifies the forming of a bond between people; the development of a relationship… the start of something new. It’s from that, that Miles knows that any worries of his family not liking you vanishes.

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ginnsbaker · 11 months

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In Silent Screams (1/3)

Chapter word count: 10.3k+ Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader, Wanda Maximoff x Vision Tags: Mentions of Smut (F/M), Cheating, Angst, Gaslighting

Notes: This will follow the events of IFISS (not strictly) but in Wanda's POV. Check the tags, you've been warned. This is not rated M, but feel free to skip parts you feel uncomfortable with.

Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Part I

It’s all happening very fast and she’s hardly keeping pace.

You and Wanda have cleared the apartment you've shared for over five years. The boxes are loaded onto the moving truck, while more personal items are safely packed away in the trunk and rear seats. You're in the building's administrative office, addressing the bills and finalizing other necessities before the move, while Wanda waits for you, sitting on the floor in the middle of what used to be the living room.

Sparky darts around the room, the vastness of the deserted space giving him room to play. Every so often, he looks up at Wanda, his tail wagging, perhaps sensing the change that's about to come. Wanda's gaze follows the little dog, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, grateful for his company.

Every corner of this apartment held a memory—from the faded mark on the kitchen wall where Wanda accidentally spilled red wine, to the tiny dent on the living room floor, after Sparky ran into it during a rough playtime with you. Packing up wasn’t just about boxing items; it felt like carefully wrapping up fragments of time, every piece a memory filed away, never to be recovered ever again.

Though the accumulation of belongings over the years had made the space feel a tad cramped, and a move to a larger place seemed the logical next step, Wanda was deeply nostalgic about leaving behind this chapter. It marked the end of an era for you both—the days of being a young, hopeful couple in love. But at the same time, Wanda also held onto the hope that maybe starting anew somewhere would be good, especially since the past few months have been rocky, with her failed attempts to get pregnant and her stagnant career. Maybe a fresh environment would ease some of that pain, she thought.

The trail leading up to this new chapter, however, is characterized by your increasing hours at the office, overshadowing the time spent at the apartment. Yet, it's this very commitment that led to your promotion just two weeks ago, sparking the unexpected decision to move to an unfamiliar town in New Jersey.

As the reality of the situation sinks in, Wanda feels as if life is moving at an almost dizzying pace. Everything is changing so quickly: your recent promotion, the emotional roller-coaster of trying for a baby, and now the looming move. It’s been more than a lot to take in.

Your footsteps, a soft thud against the wooden floor, break the quiet, drawing Wanda from her deep thoughts.

“Ready to go?”

She turns towards you, her eyes slightly misty, and whispers, “Just one more minute.”

Understanding her need to linger, you cross the room and lower yourself beside her. “Are you okay?” you ask.

Nodding, she takes a deep breath, as if trying to inhale every memory, every scent of the place she's called home for so long. “Yeah. I just need a moment to say goodbye.”

Gently, you squeeze her shoulder, drawing her gaze to meet yours. “You know, it's not really goodbye,” you murmur, trying to reassure her. “Scott promised it’s temporary, so there's a good chance we could be back here in Manhattan.”

Wanda turns to face you, her eyes searching yours for any hint that you're merely telling her what she wants to hear. You consistently strive to make her happy, aiming to shield her from distress. It's a trait she adores about you, though it can slightly irritate her at times. But right now—

“You really think we might come back?” she asks.

You nod firmly. “Absolutely. Manhattan is where we built so many of our memories, and it will always be a part of us. Westview is just a chapter, not the whole story.”

—right now she appreciates your ability to ground her with your words.

She laughs a bit, dabbing at her eyes. “God, I've fallen so hard for this place.”

“Me too,” you say, giving in to the urge to kiss her forehead. After all these years, and despite being married for a while, you still constantly seek reasons to be near her, to touch her. “But wherever we’ll go, we’ll make it our own.”

Wanda decides to christen the first day in your new home by making love on the living room floor, and you're as eager to indulge her. It's short and sweet, straightforward in its intensity. You’re both already attuned to each other's bodies, and she knows precisely where to touch, how to curl her fingers to draw out those soft, sultry moans she always finds so enticing.

The shadows created by the fire dance across the walls, mirroring the boxes scattered all around, each labeled and awaiting their turn to be unpacked and settled into this new space. Wanda absentmindedly rakes her fingers through your hair, your head cushioned on her warm, pillowy chest as you sleepily hum a song. Every scratch sends tingles down your spine, adding to the lethargy pulling at your eyelids.

“'Fade Into You' by Mazzy Star,” Wanda says softly, recognizing the tune.

You give a soft, drowsy chuckle. “You always know. Remember that tiny café near your dorm? They played it on a loop. It was drizzling outside, and we had that ridiculously oversized shared umbrella.”

Wanda smiles at the memory. “How could I forget? We sat there for hours, sipping on our lattes and listening to that song. And we weren’t even together then.”

Drawing a deep breath, you let out a contented sigh, murmuring, “Yeah, but I was already so deeply in love with you then.”

Wanda scrunches her nose and smirks, teasingly retorting, “That's really cheesy.”

You grin, nuzzling further into her, feeling her heart's rhythmic beat beneath your ear. “Doesn't make it any less true,” you whisper.

Wanda would later reflect on this memory, wishing she had held onto it more tightly, especially since it marked the true beginning of something withering inside of her.

Westview isn't quite the place Wanda envisioned. Instead of offering an escape from the unresolved threads of both your lives, it feels more like trading one cage for another. The town pulses with its own set of peculiarities, a rhythm and routine foreign to her. She's ambivalent about it. Sees it only as a brief interlude, a temporary concession she's making to support your career endeavors.

The demands of your job appear to be greater than either of you anticipated. As she's finishing up the first dish she's prepared for the evening, you call her midday to say you won't be home for dinner.

It's not the first or even the third instance. She refrains from keeping tally because she doesn't want to be that kind of wife. However, she's certain it's happened more than just a few times. Wanda tries to hide the disappointment from her voice, assuring you it's fine and that she understands. But as she hangs up the phone, a sensation that's become all too familiar washes over her.

She finds herself drifting towards the window, gazing out at the street below, lost in thought. She's never been one to demand all of your time, but this—it's the first time she's felt so small and insignificant. Aside from that first day when you both made love on every possible surface, there hasn't been a moment recently where you've shown interest in being that adventurous again. You both promised never to become that type of couple. Yet now, she's tormented by the thought: maybe you no longer find her as attractive as you used to, or perhaps you've come to realize some latent disappointment in her.

But everytime you come back in the quiet of the night, pulling her close, kissing her neck, and nestling into her hair, you dispel all her doubts. Wanda's only learning now how exhausting and powerless it could feel to need someone this much.

One particular night, mirroring the many late evenings before, you arrive home to find Wanda watching television in the living room. Both of you are thrilled to see each other awake, rather than just you returning to a warm, sleeping body next to your (cold) side of the bed.

Wanda's hair is slightly tousled, eyes glazed from the weariness of the day, but they light up when they meet yours. The corners of her lips curl into a small, sluggish smile. “You're home,” she murmurs, her voice tinged with a mixture of relief and longing.

You shed your coat, moving towards the couch and sitting down beside her. “I missed you,” you admit, running a gentle hand through her hair.

She leans into your touch, her body molding against yours. “I've been trying to stay awake lately, just hoping I might get to see you before drifting off,” Wanda says. “Tell me about your day.”

You take a deep breath, trying to process the day's events. “Same old, same old,” you say, putting your head on her shoulder. “Tight deadlines. And you won't believe this, but Janet, my secretary, she's going on maternal leave sooner than expected. So the office... well, they decided to throw something together last minute.”

She sits up a bit. “So you weren't held up because of work, but because of a party?”

“Uh, yeah. I think I mentioned it in my text?”

“I didn't get any message about…” Wanda trails off, taking a moment to steady herself. You’ve barely seen each other in the past week. The last thing she wants is to lash out on you.

But instead of noticing her distress and apologizing, or recognizing how your consecutive absences have affected her, you're fixated on pulling out your phone, scrolling through your messages, to… what? To prove to her that you mentioned it in your text?

“I sent you a text. I swear, I mentioned it,” you mumble. After a few more seconds, you let out a sigh of exasperation, showing her the screen where the message lays unsent. “The message failed to send... I thought you knew.”

Wanda looks at the screen and then back at you, her gaze softening slightly. “It happens,” she says with a soft smile.

“I'm sorry, Wanda,” you admit, placing the phone down. “Yes, it was a gathering, and I should've double-checked or called.”

She shakes her head, her fingers brushing against your cheek, just happy to be touching you. “I’m not mad. I just miss you, that's all.”

You take her hand in yours, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. “I miss you too. So bad.”

Wanda shifts slightly, trying to get more comfortable in the embrace. “Did you have fun, at least?” she asks.

“Yeah,” you reply with an enthusiastic nod. “It was great catching up with everyone, especially Janet. Did you know she only got married a year ago? And they're already expecting. It's amazing how quickly things happen for some people.”

Wanda's expression, which had been soft and open, changes almost imperceptibly. The brightness in her eyes dims a little, and there's a slight tensing of her lips, a subtle sign of the pain you unknowingly inflicted. You love her, yet at times you unintentionally wound her deeply without even realizing it. Wanda doesn't know how that can be, but in this moment, it feels truer than ever.

“She's really excited,” you continue, oblivious to the change in your wife’s demeanor. “They weren't even really trying. It just... happened. I'm happy for her, genuinely.”

Wanda nods, swallowing hard. “That's... that's great for them,” she says, forcing a smile. She withdraws from your hold, rising from the couch. “I’m gonna go to bed.”

This time, you notice the hardened look in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“It's nothing,” she replies with a faint, unconvincing smile. “Just tired.”

“Wanda—”

“Good night.”

You hold back, not pushing her for answers. She stops briefly at the base of the stairs, shoulders drooping. Then, with a heavy sigh, she slowly makes her way up, each step looking like it takes more effort than the last.

The computer screen shines a relentless blue glow onto her face.

As the weeks pass, she sees fewer and fewer unread emails, fewer blinking notifications. The heart of the art world has always thrummed with in-person interactions, art deals solidified by firm handshakes, cocktail parties filled with patrons looking to be swayed by a charismatic gallery curator, and the intimate closeness that comes from viewing a painting together and discussing its merits. Video calls, as efficient as they are, don't capture the nuance of human emotion and instinct in the same way.

Sometimes she dreams of being back in the thick of it all, surrounded by masterpieces and dizzying energy. Westview, however, is quaint, almost eerily so. It has its charms, its local coffee shops and small art scenes, but it's a far cry from the scenes of the big city.

She feels her importance at the gallery dwindling. She can't fault them; many of the responsibilities demand her physical presence. Currently, she can only manage to send crucial emails and direct calls and messages from essential patrons, sponsors, and others integral to the gallery's ecosystem. Her power of persuasion doesn't translate as effectively one email at a time.

Wanda has always enjoyed playing to her strengths, particularly when meeting artists in person, where she can swiftly adapt her tactics based on the reactions of her audience, all while maintaining her self-assured demeanor, knowing that she carries a natural charm. However, being stuck in this town has taken that from her.

Feeling the stirrings of frustration rise in her gut, Wanda steps away from the table and retrieves her cellphone. She stares at it like it’s her salvation, contemplating whether to make the call. She needs someone to talk to, someone who knows her, someone who won't judge.

She dials Agatha's number.

The phone rings a few times before a familiar voice, which once irked her but now only deepens her homesickness, answers.

“Wanda, dear! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Wanda tries to muster her energy to match Agatha's, but a hint of her distress manages to seep through. “Hi, I'm—I'm doing well. How about you?”

“Great,” Agatha replies cheerfully, but then her voice drops, “What's troubling you?”

“Nothing,” Wanda tells her quickly. A soft “hm” emanates from Agatha's end, followed by a silence that feels hefty, but not oppressive. It's the kind of silence that invites confession, though with a gossip-driven curiosity.

“It's this place,” Wanda starts, “It's not what I expected. I thought being here would give me space to breathe, a fresh start, but instead, I feel... trapped. Isn't it ironic? I have all this open space around me, but I feel more confined than ever.”

Agatha sighs, a knowing lilt in her voice. “Look, we've been in this rat race long enough. New city, new job, new whatever—it's all the same cycle, just different packaging. Maybe this detachment you're feeling? It's a cue. A chance to rethink... everything.”

Wanda arches an eyebrow, though Agatha can't see it. “What are you saying?” Sparky trots towards her, mewling. Wanda briefly flashes him a smile before scratching him behind his ears.

Agatha's voice grows sharper, more incisive. “I’m saying that maybe you haven’t really given your new town a chance because you’re holding on tightly on a rope to the past. I'm saying maybe the gallery, as much as it's been your lifeline, is now your anchor. Dragging you down. Ever thought of cutting the cord?”

Wanda's heart races. “You mean quit? Just like that?”

A snort from Agatha. “Why not? What's it giving you right now? A title? Perks? Or just a nostalgia trip and a daily reminder of what used to be?”

Wanda is silent, grappling with the blunt reality Agatha’s laying out. The realization that maybe she's clinging to a past that doesn't fit her present is daunting.

“Look, Wanda,” Agatha continues, softer now, “it's just business. The gallery won't sink without you, and maybe you'll find a version of yourself you didn't know existed without it. Westview’s a new board. Play it.”

The house is enormous for two people and a small dog. The vastness of the space should thrill her, yet it amplifies her loneliness. Your early departures and late returns leave her lingering in the expanse, waiting for life to unfold. The sparkling countertops, the polished floors—she's cleaned them over twice this week, a feeble attempt to occupy her time, to feel some semblance of accomplishment.

But what's the point when, at the end of it all, it feels like nothing?

Wanda's eyes flutter open as she hears the familiar, albeit late, sound of the front door clicking shut. Recently, her sleep has been light, so even your softest footfalls register in her consciousness. She remains still, her back turned to the bedroom door, her breathing deliberate and even. The sounds of shuffling reach her ears: the rustle of clothes, a muted sigh, the faint creak of a floorboard.

The bed shifts, dips, as you ease yourself beside her. The silence stretches, becoming palpable, thick. And then, a whisper, soft and low, bathed in regret. “Wanda?”

She doesn’t respond, biting back the words she wants to unleash, the lack of purpose and direction she feels these days. The longing in her eyes, if you could see it, would tear right through you.

It's been five nights in a row. Five nights of cool sheets and colder silences.

Moments later, she feels you trace your fingers over the bare curve of her arm. “I'm sorry,” you whisper, every word dripping with the weariness of corporate warfare and personal neglect. “Missed you. Like you wouldn't believe.”

You press a tender kiss to her hair and Wanda holds her breath. “I promise, I'll make it right,” you say, your voice a mere breath against her ear. “We'll find our way back. I just... I need a bit more time.” Nestled against her, the familiar contours of her body will always be your home, and soon the demands of the past days pull you into a deep slumber.

Yet, for Wanda, sleep remains out of reach. Despite your assurances, a gnawing uncertainty has taken root in her heart. She craves your company, but she also harbors a growing resentment that she’s been trying to deny ever since she set foot in this forsaken town.

Not for the first time this year, Wanda wonders if you can really love someone deeply and yet blame them for the things in your life that make you unhappy.

The rain pelts down on Westview’s streets, the usually quiet lanes now slick with water and glistening under the sporadic streetlights. Wanda’s pace quickens, her umbrella slipping from her loose grip when an unforeseen splash from a passing car leaves her utterly soaked.

“Hey!” she shouts out, more from shock than anger. But the car drives on, indifferent to the trail of mess it's left behind. She's in the process of assessing the damage—wet strands of hair plastering to her face and her shirt now ruined – when he appears. A young man with strikingly bleached hair, seeming unaffected by the god-awful weather.

“You look like you're having a day,” he remarks, his voice carrying an amused lilt. With a confident stride, he approaches her. He’s tall—almost a foot taller than her. “Here, this might help,” he says, already moving to the trunk of his parked car nearby.

She watches him, curious and a tad skeptical. It's not every day a stranger offers assistance, especially in pouring rain. But this one is already producing a neatly folded tee from the trunk. “I hit the gym quite a bit. Always have a spare,” he explains, flashing a grin.

Wanda hesitates, her gaze shifting from the shirt to him and back. Up close, he appears younger than she initially perceived. “Thanks,” she murmurs, accepting the shirt. There's an odd sincerity in his eyes that makes her trust him, if only for this fleeting moment.

“How about a drink? To warm you up. And perhaps, as a small token of thanks for letting me play the good samaritan today,” he says. She arches an eyebrow, surprised by his boldness. Most people would've stopped at the shirt. Had this conversation taken place in Manhattan, Wanda would have already left with a sharp remark about his bold attempt to engage her in conversation. But here and now, she can't quite pinpoint why she hasn't brushed him off as she usually would have by this point.

Despite her initial reluctance, she finds herself smiling. You're the only person she's spoken to since arriving in Westview. She's so starved for a bit of normalcy that maybe a chat with a stranger might do the trick. After all, he's just a kid. She could regard him as a nephew or something similar.

“Alright,” she concedes, “just one drink.”

Within the first minute, Wanda learns his name: Victor Shade. However, he prefers the nickname ‘Vision’, which Wanda finds a tad whimsical. They find a cozy booth in a tucked-away corner, shielding them from potential prying eyes passing by the restaurant. While Wanda didn't plan to keep their meeting a secret, Vision naturally guided her to the more discreet spot.

“So, Wanda,” Vision begins, taking a sip of his drink, “What brought you to town? It doesn't seem like the most obvious choice for someone like you.”

Wanda looks at him, intrigued. “Someone like me? What does that mean?”

He chuckles, “Well, from our short interaction, you seem like someone who's seen bigger cities, more happening places. Westview is... charming, but quiet.”

“Same could be said about you. You don't exactly scream 'small town boy' either,” Wanda says.

Vision's eyebrows rise playfully, feigning offense. “Oh? And why is that?”

“Your confidence,” she retorts with a smirk. “It's loud, almost deafening. It echoes big city vibes.”

He laughs, nodding in concession. “Touche.”

As their conversation progresses, Wanda begins to see him less as a kid and more as a well-read, intriguing individual, particularly when Vision reveals he's an art major, his eyes lighting up as he talks about his passion for Renaissance art and postmodernism.“I graduated with a degree in art,” she shares, her own memories of university flooding back. She recounts stories of late-night classes and the exhilaration of her first gallery show. They bond over favorite artists and art movements, finding shared preferences and amusing disagreements. It's a pleasant surprise for Wanda to discover that, out of all the people in Westview, the first one she genuinely converses with is someone with whom she shares so much in common.

Yet, as she's engaging with Vision, a tiny voice at the back of her mind keeps drawing comparisons between him and you. The way you and Wanda communicate is so fundamentally different. You lean heavily on the left, analytical and logical in your thinking. Your conversations with Wanda often revolve around structured debates, dissecting topics with precision and care, always seeking the root cause or solution. Wanda, on the other hand, leans more to the right, driven by creativity and emotion. She loves diving into abstract concepts, weaving narratives and ideas with passion.

You and Wanda did find common interests and topics that you both enjoy. Over the years, you've had countless meaningful moments where you both found yourselves talking for hours on end. But the rapport she's building with Vision is something she hasn't felt in a long while, or perhaps ever, even with you. It's not necessarily better or worse; it's just different, and it takes her by surprise.

At one point, Vision’s gaze falls upon the glint of Wanda's wedding ring, reflecting the ambient light of the restaurant. “You're married,” he observes, not as a question but a statement.

Wanda hesitates for a moment, then nods. “Yes, I am.”

Vision looks at her, searching for something in her eyes. “Does he know you're out with a stranger?”

“She,” Wanda corrects instinctively, her cheeks warming as she notices his eyes sparkle with heightened interest, then she adds, “She probably wouldn't mind. We trust each other. Besides, it's just a drink with a friend, right?”

He smiles, raising his glass. “To friendship.”

For the first time, she arrives home later than you that night. Wanda finds you in the living room, curled up on the couch, a remote in hand, and an empty wine glass on the table beside you.

As the door clicks shut, you turn, and your eyes clouded with surprise as you meet hers. “Hey,” you murmur, the TV's remote paused mid-air, “Wasn't expecting you this late.”

Wanda shrugs, unsure of how to convey the unexpected turn her day had taken. She hangs her coat and moves towards the living room, her shoes making soft tapping noises against the wooden floor. “Ran into someone... from college,” she half-lies, the omission of Vision's identity a deliberate choice. Not out of guilt, but more a protective instinct to keep the evening's serendipitous meeting to herself.

“Oh? How was that?”

“It was... nice. Different,” Wanda replies, picking her words with care. She can sense your gaze on her, trying to piece together the puzzle, and she quickly adds, “We just grabbed a drink, caught up. You know how it is.”

You nod slowly, the lines of your face softening. “Good. You needed that. This move... it's been hard on you.” The acknowledgment feels like a balm, and Wanda gives you a small, appreciative smile. She’s about to head upstairs when your voice stops her in her tracks.

“That's a... unique shirt you've got there,” you comment. She turns around slowly to face you and sees a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth.

Wanda glances down at the shirt she's wearing, an admittedly garish tee that's far from her usual style. “Some idiot in a car decided I looked better drenched,” she explains, rolling her eyes. “This was the only option the nearby store had.”

It's her third lie of the evening, and Wanda can't explain why she keeps doing it.

“Well, I've got to say, it's a look. You're absolutely killing it,” you tease, a bit sarcastically.

Wanda snorts, the tightness in her chest loosening a little. “Oh, shut it.” She can't help but smile. “You're one to talk. Remember that hideous Christmas sweater you insisted on wearing last year?”

Ah, a challenge. You rise from your spot on the couch, taking a deliberate step towards her. “That was festive. This is... rebellious?” you guess, tracing a finger in the air around the outlines of her new shirt. “You pulling a midlife crisis on me, Mrs. Maximoff?”

She blushes, but whether from the memory of the car incident or your close proximity, it's hard to tell. “It's just a shirt,” she retorts, but her voice cracks and the light in her eyes betrays her amusement.

Your fingers itch to brush against the fabric of her shirt, to maybe pull her closer. “You know,” you murmur, voice low, “you could make even a potato sack look sexy.”

Wanda bites her lower lip, her breath catching just slightly. She revels in the banter, the space between yourselves shrinking with every heartbeat. She finds herself lost in the pull, but a gnawing unease lingers, making her wary. Just then, Sparky comes out of nowhere, sprinting and eventually running into Wanda’s leg. His tail wags a mile a minute, pleading for Wanda to shower him with affection. Grateful for the interruption, Wanda quickly shifts her attention, bending down to indulge the spirited pup. “Missed me, did you, Sparks?”

You try to mask your disappointment, but the subtle change in your expression isn't lost on her, even as she pointedly looks away.

Nights following her meeting with Vision find Wanda restless. It isn’t necessarily Vision himself that haunts her thoughts, but rather their impassioned discussion on art (and just about anything). She realizes, with a sharp pang, how deeply she misses the world that served as her refuge for years when she sought to escape her own reality.

With a renewed sense of purpose, she heads to Westview Institute of Arts and Sciences, seeking a place where her passion and expertise could be valuable.

Hours later, she gets an email inviting her for an interview with the dean. Apparently, the school has been looking for an assistant professor for the past several months now.

A week later, they offer her the position, and she talks to you about it shortly after sending them the signed letter of acceptance.

Her first day at the school is all kinds of awkward, likely more so than her first day as a student years ago. The university building looks massive for being in such a remote, out-of-the-way town. All around, there's a crowd of young students bustling about, their laughter and conversations filling the crisp, morning air.

Among them, Wanda stands, momentarily frozen—an outsider looking in. She wears a chic black ensemble: slacks, a blazer, and a turtleneck, hoping to conceal the anxiety that's making it difficult for her to keep her breakfast down. However, as she's introduced to a few of the other professors, her resolve wavers. They're in more casual attire, and she can't help but feel a tad overdressed, sticking out like a meticulously painted stroke on an empty canvas.

She doesn't get to meet her students immediately. Instead, her day is consumed by orientation processes, faculty meetings, and an extensive tour of the sprawling campus. Every time she turns a corner or meets someone new, a mix of excitement and jitters rushes through her. The enormity of the responsibility she's shouldering, coupled with the fact that she's never taught anyone before (not even tutored)—it's both intimidating and thrilling all at once.

It's been a while since she's felt this alive, apart from the rare times when you're home on time, or when she gets to spend an entire day with you. But this? This is the first time in ages that something beyond the comfort of your love has rekindled a spark in her, reminding Wanda of a part of herself she had almost forgotten.

At the end of her first day, Wanda does meet one of her students.

Technically, she has met him before, but it was in the context of a friendly stranger who lent her his shirt when she needed it the most. When Vision told her that he was an art student, she didn't actually expect to find him attending the same university. She had assumed he was from the city and just passing through.

(Perhaps it’s her silliest assumption she's made to date but—it is what it is.)

“Aren't you a pleasant surprise,” Vision says, rolling down the window of his Mustang. When his voice reaches her, it's distinctly out of place, an unexpected ripple in her carefully mapped out day.

She swallows hard, resisting the urge to take a step back, “Vision, I wasn't expecting to see you here.”

He grins, the sunlight catching the edges of his aviator glasses. “It's a small world, or rather, a small university.” He tilts his head playfully, “Wait... are you...?”

Wanda cuts him off, “Let's just say, I'm exploring my options here.”

A pause ensues, both understanding the unsaid implications.

“You know,” Vision starts, leaning against his car, “I'd heard there was a new, 'exceptionally dressed' professor in town. Just didn't piece it together that it would be you.”

“It's a small world,” she murmurs, her face a shade paler.

He seems to sense her discomfort and remarks, “I suppose this changes everything.”

Wanda sighs, “It's just... I need to maintain a certain decorum here. It would be inappropriate if—”

“—If I turned out to be one of your students,” he finishes for her. His smirk is replaced by a milder expression. “Don't worry. Whatever our relationship outside this campus, I respect boundaries. And I expect you do too.”

She nods, appreciative of his maturity. “Thank you, Vision.”

Before she can fully turn away, Vision snaps his fingers together. “Oh, by the way, you left something with me from last time. Your shirt? The shirt you had to change out of?”

Wanda's face reddens slightly at the memory. “I completely forgot about that. Do you have it?”

Vision points with a thumb over his shoulder towards his car. “Wait a second. It's in the back.” He moves to retrieve the shirt, but after rummaging for a few moments, he frowns. “I could have sworn I left it here…”

He removes his sunglasses, allowing his gaze to lift in thought, revealing the unnaturally vibrant blue of his eyes to Wanda. “Ah, I remember now. It's in my laundry bag, which I took to my apartment.”

“It's fine. You can give it back another time,” Wanda says.

But Vision, with that same gleam in his eyes, counters, “Why not just come with me and get it now? It's a short drive.”

She bites her lip, thinking. On one hand, she'd rather not prolong their interaction given the new dynamics. On the other, it might be best to just get it over with. “I'm not sure…”

He raises his hands in mock surrender. “I promise it's just a shirt, Professor.”

The inclusion of the title almost brings a smile to her face. “Alright,” Wanda gives in, “But only if it’s quick. And remember, as far as the university is concerned, we’re merely acquaintances.”

“Technically, you haven’t met your class yet. And as of now, I’m not your student,” he points out with an innocent shrug.

The logic is sound, though it does little to quell the anxiety bubbling within Wanda. She nods, exhaling deeply. “Let’s go.”

They drive to Vision’s apartment building, the journey marked by fleeting glances and a silence that's not entirely comfortable. He attempts to dispel the tension, “I've washed and ironed the shirt for you. Hope that's alright.”

She looks over, surprised by the gesture. “Thank you, that's... unexpected.”

As she sits in the passenger seat of Vision’s car, Wanda inadvertently starts picking up on the small details surrounding her. She notices the immaculate interior of the car—not a stray piece of litter, every surface gleaming. There's a fresh, clean scent permeating the space, a subtle hint of citrus perhaps. It's not the typical aroma one would expect from a college student's car. She thinks of the younger people she's known and how their vehicles often doubled as chaotic storage spaces, littered with discarded clothes, takeaway containers, and the musty scent of overdue laundry.

When they arrive at his apartment, it further exemplifies this meticulousness. Sketches, paintings, and art supplies are neatly arranged, yet the area feels lived-in, warm, not sterile. It's easy to forget he's just 21. He exudes an aura of maturity that doesn’t align with his years. If they had met under different circumstances, and if she hadn’t known his age, she would have pegged him for someone much older, someone who's seen more, experienced more.

“Your shirt,” Vision says, pulling it out from a cupboard—neatly folded, rather than from the laundry bag he remembered earlier. “As promised.”

As Wanda accepts it, her fingers brush against a freshly painted canvas. The vibrant colors smear slightly under her touch.

“Oh! I'm so sorry,” she exclaims, pulling her hand back.

Vision waves it off, “No worries. Sometimes accidents lead to the best kind of art.”

He then looks contemplative for a moment before posing a question, “You know, Picasso once said, 'Every act of creation is first an act of destruction.' What do you think of that?”

The randomness of it throws her off for a second, before she regards him with a thoughtful look. “Well, in a way, creation and destruction aren't opposing forces. One can be a precursor to the other. To create something new, often something old has to give way.”

Vision's eyes light up, clearly pleased by her response. “Exactly! It's like when you're sketching. Sometimes, you have to erase an entire section just to rework it. And often, the second attempt is much better than the first.”

They continue discussing, each statement leading to another topic, and another. After a while, Vision hesitates before making a bold request, “Wanda, would you... would you mind if I sketched you? Just for practice. You have such unique features, and it'd be a challenge for me.”

“Trying to butter up your professor already?” It comes out a bit flirtatious by accident, and Wanda struggles to retract it.

He nods, a little sheepishly. “Only if you're comfortable. It’s just... our discussion has inspired me.”

Wanda laughs lightly, unable to deny that the notion does flatter her.. “Alright, but only for a bit. I'm not exactly dressed for a portrait.”

“You are…” Vision murmurs almost too quietly to hear, his eyes already fixed on his sketchpad. But Wanda still catches it, and a faint blush tints her cheeks. Vision gets to work. In this moment, she's both his muse and his critic, and for a brief while, a hushed silence envelops the room.

However, as the minutes tick by, Wanda begins to feel increasingly restless beneath his studious, penetrating gaze. She tries to keep her posture, attempting to appear at ease, but her muscles gradually tighten in response to his intent focus. There’s a kind of intimacy in being observed so closely that she wasn’t quite prepared for.

“Can you tilt your head just a bit to the left?” he asks, never lifting his gaze from the page. She obliges. Moments later, “A little to the right now, and chin up. Perfect.”

Wanda obeys, adjusting her position to his liking. But it's a stray strand of hair that falls onto her forehead that really tests her composure. Vision notices it immediately. “Could you brush that hair away, please?” he asks.

She reaches up, trying to tuck it behind her ear, but it stubbornly returns to its original position. Frowning in mild irritation, she tries again but with the same result.

Vision chuckles softly. “Stay still,” he murmurs, placing his sketchpad to the side. He carefully rises from his seat and approaches her, eyes never leaving her face. “I'll fix it.”

Heart inexplicably racing, Wanda can't comprehend why she obeys so willingly, remaining motionless as Vision's fingertips ghost near her face. The distance between them becomes almost negligible as his face hovers mere inches from hers. She can feel the warmth of his breath, see the earnest concentration in his eyes. Slowly, ever so gently, his fingers brush the errant strand away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “There we go,” Vision whispers.

But instead of retreating, he lingers. She watches as Vision's eyes flutter closed, and he begins to lean in. She's teetering at the precipice of something that can't be taken back, and she’s horrified to discover a part of her that wants to give in.

Shaking herself out of the trance, she manages to whisper with a tremble in her voice, “I... I have to go.” Her words cut through the moment like a knife, yet Vision remains close, eyes searching hers as he softly challenges, “Are you sure?”

That simple question, laden with suggestion, irks Wanda. This was more than just an innocent sketching session. Irritation builds as she understands what he might have been attempting. In her haste to distance herself, she stands abruptly, accidentally brushing his face with her head. She doesn't apologize, too focused on gathering her belongings.

Vision, realizing his mistake, scrambles to his feet, “Wanda, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—”

But she cuts him off, hand already on the door handle. “I'll see you in class, Mr. Shade.”

Wanda doesn't know how you managed to convince her to shower together one morning.

To be fair, you didn't make much of an effort to persuade her, and she was more than willing to participate. Perhaps it's because life has been an unending whirlwind lately, a blur of responsibilities and ever-mounting pressure. Her fresh endeavor into academia had consumed much of her waking hours, leaving her mentally drained by the end of the day. You, on the other hand, seemed perpetually buried under a mountain of paperwork and late-night calls.

It's not an excuse, of course, but these realities have inadvertently wedged a distance between the two of you. So, on that fateful morning, when you followed her into the bathroom, you were a woman on a mission. But as you wordlessly entered the shower, a certain determination evident in your stride, Wanda felt the need to object. Her protest, however, was cut short. The feel of your lips on hers, possessive and demanding, effectively silenced her. Her knees threatened to give way, and if not for the firm grip you had on her waist, she might have collapsed. Instead, she melted into your arms, letting you take the lead, and well—

That resulted in her losing nearly half of her students for her first class of the day because they believed she wouldn't show up after being nearly twenty minutes late.

“That can’t happen again,” Wanda told you.

“Whatever you say, babe.”

It occurs a few more times before she intentionally begins waking up before your alarm goes off. Wanda misses her wife, but she misses the life you both left behind even more. And despite finding satisfaction in her new career, she can’t seem to stop resenting you for that.

Her period is a week late, but Wanda isn't worried. You both stopped trying to conceive before coming to New Jersey. However, it does remind her of something else she had to let go of and how it felt like you gave up on her too easily for comfort.

The stress from her new job eventually begins to take a toll on her. Stacks of papers sprawl across the table, some marked with red ink, others waiting to be perused. Her hand moves methodically, adjusting her notes, reviewing her questions, ensuring every detail is in place for the impending exam. Her back protests from the hours spent in the same position, her eyes blink away the fatigue, but she's determined to finalize every last bit. It takes a few more moments before she finishes editing her students’ first examination. It's late—far too late for her to still be at the university, but a sense of accomplishment washes over her.

In the middle of soaking up her minor achievement for the day, she suddenly remembers Sparky. He's been left for hours, with just water, and that she's supposed to get groceries for him this afternoon. Shit, Wanda curses breathily, hurrying her movements.

She's about to shut her laptop when she hears a knock on the door. Thinking it's the security guard, she quickly rehearses her plea for just a few more minutes. However, when she opens the door, she's staring into the all-too-familiar blue eyes of Vision.

Wanda takes an involuntary step back, her pulse quickening. “Mr. Shade,” she greets, an uncharacteristic iciness in her voice.

He looks equally surprised, “Wan—Professor Maximoff,” he responds. “I... I wasn't expecting to see you here.”

“Neither was I. What are you still doing here?”

Vision runs a hand through his hair, looking bashful for a change. “I often come to the art room late at night. It helps me think, especially when I feel creatively stuck. I was on my way home and noticed the lights still on in this office.”

Wanda feels a pang of suspicion, even as she tries to remind herself that the university is as much Vision's space as it is hers. Still, she can't help but feel wary. “Well, I'm just leaving,” she says curtly, shouldering her bag. Before she can take another step, Vision's fingers encircle her arm, the unexpected touch of warm skin on skin causing her to pause. She looks down at where his fingers lightly grip her, and then up into his earnest eyes. She can feel the warmth of his hand, the roughness of his fingertips.

“Wait,” he murmurs, his blue eyes locking onto hers, an earnest plea evident in their depths. “We need to talk.”

Wanda instinctively tries to pull her arm away, but Vision's grip tightens, not painfully but enough to keep her there. He steps closer, effectively cutting off her escape route. His height becomes even more pronounced as he leans slightly, bringing his face closer to hers. His presence feels overbearing, almost intimidating, as he places himself between her and the exit. He quietly closes the door behind him, the soft click echoing in the silence, and the room feels much, much smaller now.

Wanda's eyes dart around, looking for a way out, her mind racing. “Vision, this isn't appropriate,” she manages to say.

All he says is, “I know. I'm sorry.”

They find themselves engaged in a staring contest, with only the sound of their breathing serving as a reminder of each other's presence. Several tense seconds pass, with neither willing to break the gaze. Then, slowly, Vision eases the grip on her arm, his fingers lingering for a moment before letting go entirely. He steps back deliberately, emphasizing the space between them, a clear invitation for her to leave if she chooses to.

Her heart pounding loudly in her ears, Wanda takes a moment to gather her thoughts. She wants to leave, to create as much distance as possible between them, especially when she knows what's about to happen if she gives in even the slightest bit.

She takes a shaky breath and, for the briefest moment, her gaze drifts to her work laptop. A flash of silver catches her eye. Her USB, containing the work she's been laboring on for hours. “I-I forgot something” she mutters, panic rising in her voice. “I need that before I go,” she says, pointing to the device.

Vision nods, not saying a word. Wanda cautiously begins to move towards the desk, but before she can reach it, Vision's there, his movements swift and silent. He suddenly wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her close. The initial shock has her resisting, pushing against his chest, but it's short-lived. Before she knows it, she's letting out a quiet sigh, her face buried in the crook of his neck. He hoists her up effortlessly, seating her on the edge of the desk.

As she looks up at him, he slides his hands up, disappearing beneath her skirt. The faintest image of your face flickers across Wanda's mind, a ghost of a memory that almost pulls her back to sense and reason. But as Vision's fingers find their wet mark, Wanda's grip tightens on the edge of the desk, her eyes fluttering closed. She can no longer recall the sequence of events that led her to this very moment, nor the myriad reasons why it shouldn't be happening.

Every bit of rationale, every thought of you, all seem to evaporate, leaving only the need to breathe and to feel.

To just be.

Wanda remains in her car without starting the engine for a good thirty minutes. She left the room as soon as she could pull her panties up past her knees. She can feel the residual heat on her skin, how he felt inside of her. She resists the urge to squeeze her thighs together, attempting to disregard the stickiness and discomfort she feels.

She clutches the steering wheel, knuckles white, struggling with the realization of what she's done. She's betrayed you. It wasn't just a lapse in judgment, it was a deliberate decision, a yielding to curiosity, to loneliness, to that inexplicable pull towards someone who isn’t you. But as much as she’s drowning in guilt, she couldn’t deny how her mind keeps going back to Vision’s touch, the way he'd made her feel so alive, so seen, in a way she hadn’t felt in a while. It's maddening, this push and pull. It's like there are two sides of her fighting it out inside—one, the devoted partner who loves you, and the other, a woman who's awakened, yearning for something she can't quite put into words.

She laughs, the sound teetering on the edge of hysteria. It's an unsettling sound in the quiet of the car, an indication of her fraying sanity. How did she get here? How did she become this person? In what manner did she find herself engaging in infidelity despite your presence in her life? You've been the guiding light in her life for so long, making her the best version of herself she's ever known. But still, how can she undo this part of herself she never thought existed?

Tears form in her eyes as she closes them, trying to banish the memories, to shut out the storm of emotions threatening to consume her. But they're too powerful, too raw, too fresh. Too real. And she knows she has to face them, to confront the reality of what she's done and decide where to go from here.

It's just past midnight when Wanda's car pulls into the driveway. She emerges from the vehicle in a daze, her steps slow and disconnected, as if each step leads her inexorably towards her reckoning. The door to the house opens before she can even reach for the knob. There you stand, concern evident in your eyes. Wanda hadn't expected to find you awake, especially not at this hour, waiting for her.

It’s your scent first that reaches her before anything else, the distinct aroma of fresh pine from the sprawling garden surrounding the house, coupled with the distinct smell of Sparky, suggesting that you've held him close most of the night. The protective, almost desperate way your arms encircle her reveals just how much you've been consumed with worry about her whereabouts and safety.

Every time you’re near, every time she gets to hold you, it’s instinctual for her to break into a smile. But tonight, it's ephemeral. A tidal wave of guilt and regret crashes over her. She stiffens in your arms, the realization of her actions making her insides churn.

“Where were you?” you exclaim as you pull away and clasp her shoulder blades hard. “I've been here, pacing, worried out of my mind, and I couldn't reach you.”

It's the questioning, the concern, the love in your voice that breaks something inside her. “My phone died and I forgot to bring my charger. I was writing the final exam that I have to turn in by tomorrow, and got carried away. I’m so sorry,” she says evenly, almost robotically.

You raise an eyebrow, frustration evident. “You could've borrowed a phone or used the school's landline, right?”

She has to remind herself that your words aren't accusations. You're not out to corner her; you genuinely don't know what she's done. And in that moment, she decides that she'll do everything to ensure you will never know.

Taking a deep breath, Wanda resorts to tactics she despises in herself. “Like I said, I was working,” she retorts with an exaggerated roll of her eyes, hoping the hint of condescension in her tone might distract you, even as it tears at her own conscience. “It’s Westview. What’s the worst that could happen to me? Please let it go, I’m so fucking exhausted.”

Your reaction to her words is immediate, a palpable retreat, and she's overcome with the urge to spill every secret, every confession, if only she could be certain you wouldn't walk away.

“Fine,” you say tersely, stepping aside to let her pass. “We’ll talk about this in the morning.” You don’t bother to hide the hurt in your eyes and her resolve almost crumbles.

“Sounds good,” she says and turns abruptly, making her way upstairs, her pace quickening with every step.

In the morning, she offers you kisses as an apology, and you're blissfully unaware of the hundred ways it's steeped in treachery.

It keeps happening with Vision and she starts to waste away. On the surface, she seems to be taking better care of herself: shedding some weight, toning in ways that leave you entranced during the few mornings you catch her making breakfast.

But Wanda is adept at playing it cool, brushing off your hungry gazes as if they're mere figments of her imagination. She longs for you in the same intense way she always has, but she's entangled in this twisted duality now. As she writes names and explanations on the board, she can almost feel the intensity of Vision's stare, a heat on her back that she's come to recognize all too well. Sometimes, during a lecture, she'll turn and catch him staring, and right then, she knows where they'll be once the session ends. She also begins to frequent places she's never been to before, corners of the town she hopes no one will recognize them in. There, they sit side by side, their knees touching underneath the table, talking about everything and nothing.

And you wouldn't, not for a second, entertain suspicions about her hardly ever being at home. Because your love for her is profound, and your trust, even more so. Because she knows you're buried under the weight of your own challenges at work, and capitalizes on this knowledge for the time being. Because whatever this is, whatever she’s doing with Vision, she knows it’s temporary. She swears she’ll clean up after herself, the moment she can purge this from her system.

Because none of it feels as if they're truly happening, and Wanda convinces herself it's just a hazy, erotic dream from which she can wake at any moment she chooses.

“Do you love me?”

The question hits Wanda like a freight train. Of course she does. You’re her… of course she does. And she’s never felt the fear of losing you, the true love of her life, more acutely than now.

“Of course I love you,” Wanda says, fighting to keep her voice steady even as her chin quivers. “What a silly question.”

“I guess I’m just feeling silly. We’ve been working hard, and when we’re together,” you pause, your voice quivering, letting out a mirthless laugh, “We’re still working.”

Her guilt amplifies. She's been so engrossed in her own struggles that she failed to see how it's affecting you. The toll it's taken on your relationship. Your insecurities, your need for validation, all because she's been distant and distracting herself from her own demons. She's grateful the shadows conceal her face from you, or else it would be to easy for you to recognize the truth, and—

“I just miss you,” you confess, and it stings.

“Me too,” she whispers, the words filled with layers of meaning she can't articulate. Wanda tries to find more words, something to reassure you further, but she can't quite comfort as effortlessly as you do for her. You've always been more adept at loving her than she's ever been with you.

“Good night,” you say, and Wanda detects no underlying bitterness in your tone. She almost wishes there were. It'd be easier if you didn't love her so unconditionally; then she wouldn't feel so wretched for the secrets she's keeping just beyond this room's walls.

She goes as far as asking herself if she simply misses having a cock inside of her, the thought nagging at her especially when Vision stays firmly inside her, holding her in place as he spills into a condom. She flutters around him a few more times before she slackens in his hold.

Pushing away the guilt that threatens to engulf her every time they are together, Wanda wonders if this reckless escapade with her student is merely an escape from the monotonous predictability of her life or a deeper reflection of some unmet need. Vision’s bedroom becomes a space of both pleasure and torment for her. When she catches her reflection in the mirror he’s installed in front of the bed, she barely recognizes the woman staring back, eyes clouded with both desire and regret. She clings to the belief that once she figures out what she's truly seeking, she can end it all and return to you, wholly and completely. But the more she thinks about it, the more elusive the answer becomes.

Vision’s bony hips gradually come to a stop, and he finally pulls out of her. She feels the evidence of their recent activities on her skin, and is hit with an overwhelming need to wash it all away.

“I need a shower,” she murmurs, more to herself than to him. He simply nods, watching her intently. There's a question in his eyes, perhaps seeking assurance or simply wondering if she'll return to his bed afterwards. Wanda doesn't give him an answer, nor does she meet his gaze for long. Instead, she wraps herself in whatever piece of clothing she can find and heads towards the bathroom.

When she emerges from the shower, redressed in the clothes she wore earlier, Vision is absent from the bedroom. Instead, the appetizing aroma of food wafts toward her. Following the scent, she discovers him in the kitchen, incongruously clad in a pink apron over his boxers.

As Wanda heads straight for the exit, Vision's voice abruptly stops her.

“Wanda, wait.”

She halts, not turning around, her hand still clutching the handle.

“You act as if I'm luring you back each time, Wanda. Like I'm this puppeteer pulling your strings.” He casually flips whatever he's cooking. “That's not how it is, and you know it.”

Wanda grimaces, his words leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. “Vision, it's not that—”

He interrupts her, his tone dripping with feigned innocence, “Have I ever forced you? Pushed you into anything? Or have you willingly come to me every time? You have, haven’t you?”

She turns to face him. “You know it’s more complicated than that—”

“Yet you keep coming back. And every time you do, I think, 'Maybe she sees in me what I see in her.' But then you run, making me out to be the villain.” He finally looks up, his eyes pleading and calculating at the same time.

Tears well up in her eyes. She tries to speak, but he continues, overriding her. “You're an intellectual, Wanda. A brilliant mind. I've learned more from you this semester than years combined. Isn't it natural to be drawn to such brilliance? To want more than just lectures?”

“I'm married,” Wanda states with conviction, even though just an hour ago, that fact held no meaning beneath the sheets. “I've made vows. Promises. Every time I’m with you, I question myself, my integrity. I don't know why I keep letting this happen.” Wanda's voice quivers with frustration and desperation. Vision sees it as a minor victory. He knows he's affecting her.

Disregarding the pan and turning off the stove, he approaches her, his gaze never leaving hers, trying to weave his narrative into her consciousness.

“That's just it, isn't it? There's no betrayal. We're not sneaking around, planning secret getaways. We're two souls who've connected on a level that's rare. Deep, profound. We're just... experiencing it.”

She takes a step back, shaking her head furiously. “It's not right.”

He follows, closing the distance between them. When she’s within his reach, he lifts her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. “Who defines what's right, Wanda? Why is it wrong for two souls with undeniable connection to explore every facet of it? Does it make us bad people to want to feel alive?"

She tries to pull away, her gaze dropping to the floor, but he tightens his grip on her chin. “Look at me,” he says, his voice soft but insistent. “Tell me you don't feel it. This connection.”

She inhales sharply, her resistance waning. “I do... but I can't understand why.”

He releases her, placing a gentle hand on her cheek. “Because it's natural. And maybe… maybe there's nothing malicious in it. Nothing deceitful. We're just... experiencing.”

Wanda closes her eyes, his words washing over her, causing further confusion. “What do you want from me?”

He smiles, his touch growing bolder as he cradles her face. “I want friendship. Inspiration. You've become my muse, Wanda.”

“She loves me,” she murmurs, a last-ditch effort to wriggle free from his hold.

“And you love her, right?” he challenges, slowly starting to unbutton her blouse.

“Yes, but—”

“But love isn't singular,” he interrupts, his fingers moving deftly, revealing more of her skin with every second. “You can love her and still find something unique with me. Your love for her isn’t lessened because of our connection.”

Wanda bites her lip. With every piece of clothing he peels away, it feels like he’s stripping away her defenses, too. “It's not just about love. It's about commitment, trust.”

He slides her jacket off her shoulders, his hands warm against her bare arms. “And haven't you committed to her in every other aspect of your life? You share a life, a home, memories, and love. What we have... it's different. It's intellectual, spiritual,” he argues, his gaze never leaving hers.

“But there are lines we’ve crossed—”

“Lines society drew for us.”

She swallows hard, tears threatening to spill. “I just don't want to hurt anyone.”

His voice softens, even as his fingers deftly work at the last buttons of her blouse. “Neither do I. But sometimes, in life, we have to listen to our true desires, to understand what our heart and soul really need. It’s not about being selfish; it’s about being true to oneself.”

And is this one of her 'true' desires?

Before she can articulate things further, the last of her defenses and garments are stripped away, and Visions sheds his boxers and draws her near. Their skins meet, a tantalizing sensation of heat and urgency. Wanda's breath catches as Vision's strong arms wrap around her waist, effortlessly lifting her. She instinctively wraps her legs around him, their closeness leaving no room for hesitation or doubt.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x vision #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #my writing #category: angst #iss #my fic #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n

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ghost-bxrd · 1 month

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Been mulling over Titans Tower and it's really interesting to me how it's treated in Fanon as compared to how the events transpired in canon. it's a really fun topic! Honestly, the original writing in canon is DOGSHITE but not for the usual reasons people cite.

Here's what does make sense in canon but is largely ignored (this is using canon characterisations at the time): First, it's all about the whole Titans team, not just Tim. They really downplay his death a lot, did not put up his statue or honour him whatsoever. Plus the hero community tends to victim-blame him a fuckton. Jason is showing that his death could've happened to anyone. Second, Tim and Jason are just two yearish apart—Jay died at 15, Tim becomes Robin at 13—so those Titans are more like his colleagues than anything else; he's not some older guy beating the shit outta them. Third, Tim’s indifference to Jason's comments and his cockiness about being a better Robin are pretty on-brand for his early portrayal as Robin. (I think fanon Tim derives a lot of his characteristics from his Red Robin run, which is valid as well! But here in particular we have Robin Tim... who... was... uh... a bit of an asshole when he was written back then and the HUBRIS on that man? Immaculate.)

What still makes this absolutely dog shit is the dialogue and how Jason is pouring his heart out to someone who he doesn't really care about. Jason... just doesn't operate this way... Why's he trauma dumping on... tim... ???? It makes no sense whatsoever because Jason really is someone who'd keep those vulnerabilities to himself. Why would he open up to... CANON TIM??? He makes scathing remarks when faced with Bruce and Dick because he knows the knife twists then and at he cares about their reaction. But not tim ????? Canon UTRH doesn't even mention Tim ????? ???? So in the end it's still shit imo.

I also find the use of Pit Madness in fanon super interesting, despite it not being canon. It's used to propel the Titan's Tower incident, which fascinates me because it shows how people are willing to work around its flaws to maintain consistent characterization in their works (which is !!! cool !!)

It's so interesting how many other incidents that do occur in canon aren't as well known as this one aren't given much thought. But this one is and it's interesting how people try to work with it regardless of it's flaws originally!

I'd really love to hear your opinions about it and how flexible you are with the Titans tower incident! :) How do you work with your Jason and your Tim? because it's cool to hear your analysis etc etc

Hooo boi okay i was planning on replying to this earlier but this deserves a proper, thought out response (which I’m shite at but I’m trying here. Words are hard.)

For one, I wholeheartedly agree with the whole trauma dumping thing.

Obviously we all have different tastes in media and I know there are quite a few people who enjoyed the confrontation with Tim, which is totally fine, but personally… yeah, not my thing.

I got into the Batman/batfam fandom via fanfic, so my first introduction was some version of Titans Tower I believe. I was super intrigued by the characters and the tidbits of lore sprinkled throughout that I immediately began reading up on them and digging through the internet for more info and background story on them. Which then quickly evolved into the part where my adoration for Jason’s character began and a short phase where I absolutely despised early canon Tim.

Like— all the victim blaming. He seriously couldn’t mention Jason without adding something derogatory about getting himself killed, which sat so, so wrong with me. Not to mention the Titans just accepting a new Robin right off the bat and joining in blaming Jason for his own death. I’m pretty sure that was the point where I swore off comics for a long while and decided to live off fanon 🤣

And then Jason’s part in the Titans Tower incident. I think part of how weird the canon event was is due in part to how the writers fumbled to depict trauma? Or maybe they just outright hated him because I know a lot of people back then despised Jason and his run as Robin.

Whatever the reason, I think I genuinely cringed when he revealed the Walmart Robin costume he was wearing. And then the trauma dumping.

Jason is smart enough to know Tim wouldn’t care about his grievances. I mean- dude just broke into his hideout to attack him, I think Tim’s about as done with Jason as with any other criminals, regardless of his past. And all that is proven by Tim fighting back tooth and nail without pause. He doesn’t even react to the accusation of the missing statue in Jason’s honor. Like, he genuinely doesn’t seem to care. And why would he? They don’t know each other.

And yeah maybe he was trying to beat some sense into Tim (which is still wrong but— vigilantes I guess? Idk) and make him quit Robin, but Jason’s also smart enough to know that Robins don’t quit easily. And then, as soon as Tim is down for the count and can’t keep fighting, Jason leaves. Just like that. No actual murder attempt, no kicking-while-he’s-down (at least as far as I remember).

It makes no sense. What would Jason be gaining from that encounter? Why would he blame the kid that replaced him and not the guy that did the replacing? Hell, it would make more sense for him to go after the Titans than Tim. Not the mention him casually doubting Tim’s talents when he must have done some background checks on him.

It’s why I like the idea of Pit Madness I guess, and that Jason actually went to the tower with the intent to kill. Because that way the entire thing wouldn’t seem so… pointless.

As for how flexible I am with the Titans Tower storyline, it really depends on the route people choose to explore. But I’m a huge sucker for the “Jason was Tim’s Robin” trope where there’s at least a mild amount of hero worship going on. 👁️ Oh, and happy endings. I can’t deal with tragedies.

But yeah these are my thoughts on it. Obviously no hate to whoever enjoyed the comic mentioned above 💚 we’ve all got different things we resonate with after all~

#I wish I was more articulate in English but as much as I write fic my brain just BLANKS when I try to respond professionally in English #it’s like ‘you get to use metaphors but your vocab is void for argumentative convos’#I’m so sorry anon I swear I was trying very hard #I hope some of this is understandable on a deeper level #because I have FEELINGS on this topic #but mostly it boils down to me not being a fan of the canon titans tower incident #ghost talks #jason todd #titans tower incident #Tim drake #red hood #robin

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the-one-who-lambs · 1 year

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uhh hello!! sorry if this is a tall order LOL but I wanna ask, do you have any narilamb fanfic recs? :D I already read yours and I really like bamsara’s and I’m waiting for epicaandk’s to update (that one is my fav ever <3) but idk what to read now lol

Tall order?? Naaaaah, I'm always happy to give recs. Oh boy, I'm gonna go in reverse chronological order.

If you've read all of my narilamb fics (have you seriously? I'm impressed, that's probably well over half the 150k+ I've written for this damn fandom. Also, to anyone seeing this from a reblog, my stuff is over at onethirdofimpossible!) then here we go!

You already mentioned it, but The Rehabilitation of Death is excellent so far! This one is by @bamsara who is new to the CotL fandom but apparently not new to fanfic writing; they have a really popular FNAF fic and I assume the well-deserved attention this fic's been getting is a byproduct of the popularity they've already gotten in other fandoms. :D Welcome, bamsara! Many of the fic writers in this fandom are friends with each other already, but we don't bite if you wanna say hi.

Feel No Evil and Language Barrier, both by @payasita. I always love how payasita portrays this duo (in both digital art and writing), with so much sass and repressed loneliness, knowing they're stuck together for eternity and making the best of it. (And maybe falling in love, depending on how dense Narinder keeps being.) What makes these come alive for me is how well thought out the setting is outside the Lamb and Narinder. The descriptions and weight of emotions really pop here.

LITERALLY ANYTHING written by pavi / @i-eat-deodorant. Depending on how spicy you want your fics to be he has even more here. Character analysis, diction, pacing, etc. are consistently 10/10. Top-quality banter between a sassy Lamb and tired old man Narinder. We constantly bounce ideas off each other and inspire each other a lot but I promise I'm not hyping him up just because he's my friend oh my god please just go bless your eyes.

It Was For You, O Death by blueberry-muffin-massacre (if they have a tumblr, let me know so I can tag!). An intriguing alternative ending to the final battle wherein the Lamb chooses a secret third option by refusing to give up the Red Crown and still observing Narinder as the God of Death. So many details are so well thought out and duality their relationship is nicely characterized-- both genuine care for each other and also quite unhealthy. A fine line treaded well!

Confessional by jusmove (again, lmk if they have a tumblr). Been a while since I've read it, but I love how the Lamb chips at Narinder's very carefully built emotional walls. Their personalities are very well fleshed out here, especially Narinder's cognitive dissonance at being able to process love.

Confession by @thewitchoftheweed. I didn't expect a part two to this one, but my god I was so thrilled when it did update. Narinder and Lamb with their unique and parallel loneliness and their fucked-up sense of everything. Their relationship is very rocky here, and I love how they navigate it: with tension and eventual, pained acceptance. Mind the rating.

Of Character Development and Being Dense by @calliecature. A short and sweet narilamb classic. They're both mutually pining and one of them is too emotionally repressed to realize it. Guess who.

Not An Offering, But a Gift by @checkplzjuliet. Small confession fic. I especially love how Narinder's descriptions twist the knife of his situation here, and how Lambert is a total foil for him! There are a lot of good things happening in such a short span, which is impressive.

Also, if you think you've read all my narilamb fics... I do have a secret one out there too. Just so you know.

Happy reading!

I'm already friends with many of the people here, but if any of the writers I've tagged have been kinda wanting to reach out for a while but feel a little anxious... Don't be. I've made my best friends in this fandom by literally just waiting for some of my readers to get over whatever assumption they have that I'm cool and say hi. Or being the more confident one first.

#hannah's rambles #cult of the lamb #narilamb #cotl #fanfic #fic rec

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spirantization · 6 months

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I need to talk about NATLA Katara because this girl has been on my mind so much recently. In another post regarding Sokka's character arc, I mentioned briefly how the changes to his characterization impact Katara's character in turn. Her adaptation has been one of the most heavily criticized aspects of NATLA; even people who liked the show often bring this up as one of the weakest parts of the series.

I've been sick and rewatching the OG animation and NATLA to see the adaptation choices more clearly (and also think about what s2&3 might look like). I've said previously that changing Sokka's arc meant that Katara's arc had to change, and that wasn't satisfactorily done. Upon rewatch, I have to disagree with my previous statements and the popular opinion about Katara's characterization.

Katara's journey in season 1 is about her growing into her role as a warrior, when she has spent her life being thrust into a passive role -- not able save her mother, having to listen to Sokka (as both her big brother and protector of the village), and not able to fight against the Fire Nation. The first time we see her, she's unable to bend; we see her consistently develop her bending abilities and her strength throughout the season. She confronts her past inability to save her mother. She stands up to Sokka to do what's right. She fights against the Fire Nation and protects the Northern Water Tribe.

Sokka's arc, as I've said previously, is about him struggling with his identity. He was thrust into a leadership and warrior role at a young age, and he's tied up so much of himself into what this means. His arc is about accepting that he doesn't have to be a warrior and doesn't have to be a leader.

It's a yin & yang characterization. Katara's place as a warrior, leader, and protector grows as Sokka's ebbs. Their arcs make the most sense when considered together. They're meant to be in harmony with one another. I see the intention of the storytelling present in their respective characterizations, and how they develop in connection to each other.

Unfortunately, so many people appear to have watched the first episode and either reacted negatively to the changes or stopped watching altogether. I've seen adjectives like "passive" and "bland" thrown around in reference to Katara. And on reflection/rewatch, I think that was the point: to start her off as someone who is afraid & weak in her power, and to grow her over the season into someone who is brave & adept in her bending. By the end of the season, we see a very different Katara from the one in the first episode.

It's alright if these changes didn't resonate with you and you preferred OG Katara's characterization and arc in Book 1 of the animation. They made a choice in the adaptation that was clearly a stumble for the majority of fans. Perhaps, now that they've done the work to get her there in NATLA from a different beginning, her season 2 characterization will more closely match her OG counterpart.

#atla #natla #natla positivity #avatar the last airbender #natla meta #i am on a one-woman crusade to change hearts & minds about the netflix adaptation #it's not bad it's just different

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lacrimosathedark · 7 months

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THAT'S IT! This is a Janet Drake Defense Post

As may be obvious, I spend a lot of time reading fanfic. And there's this trend that drives me nuts, and it's villainizing Janet Drake.

I'm not gonna say she's an A+ mother. She's not. She chose her career and adventures over spending time with her child much of the time. But fandom portrays her as some rich pompous ice queen, which is never shown.

Janet Drake mostly appears in the story Tim's introduced, and in the story she dies.

So, let's start from the top: Haly's Circus.

This event is the only time we see her really interacting with Tim before her death, but it shows that at least when he was young, she was an active part of his life. She was worried about bringing Tim because it might scare him. And then rightfully scolds her husband for being sexist because Jack Drake actually IS a jerk.

...I don't like the art in this comic. Or that the writer doesn't know how kids speak.

But Janet is being supportive of Tim's clear interest in Dick's performance.

And then tragedy strikes and she acts like, y'know, a mother.

Her priority is getting her son and herself out of there.

Also worth noting that the Drakes sent a copy of that final photo of the Graysons TO Dick, which is how he has it at all. If both of them were stuck up pricks, would they even bother sending a photo to a grieving child performer they hardly know? I can't imagine Jack really bothering, but I don't see why Janet wouldn't.

And then, by the time she's dying, we know that Tim's parents have been away for a very long time, he never knows where they are, but they've communicated enough that he knows that they've been fighting.

They're passive aggressive to say the least. This marriage is clearly not working anymore.

EDIT CUZ I REMEMBERED A THING:

It's worth noting that this is a time before smartphones. This comic was released in 1990, which was when pre-paid mobile phones had just started existing. Coverage isn't universal NOW, so back then it was even less, and Jack and Janet are archeologists (or archeologist adjacent?) so they're going to be in less developed and populated areas most of the time. It's unlikely they'd have consistent access to a functional phone that could call the states to talk to Tim regularly.

This isn't to defend their absence, because fuck that, but it's to give it some context. I don't think they were trying to ignore or abandon Tim. Communication was just not readily available and Janet seems to get wrapped up in work...and Jack's an asshole.

Also for note, Janet is probably the one sending Tim postcards in the first place. It being signed "Mom and Dad" is what makes me think that. Jack would have put himself first if he wrote it, it woulda said "Dad and Mom". That's admittedly pure speculation, BUT IT FITS SOOOOOO

My thought is if this were made modern, Janet would be sending extremely scattered texts and Tim would get next to nothing from Jack unless Janet prompted him.

END EDIT

(Fair warning, this story is a few levels of Yikes, but I'm gonna stay on topic)

Bad guy Obeah Man does...something? to the pilot, and they crash, and he has a group of people kidnap the Drakes and their assistant Jeremy.

Danger really puts some things in perspective, for Janet, at least. And that continues for her. Jack is a bit delusional and in denial, thinking he has any control of the situation.

They are tied up and filmed for ransom, their assistant killed right in front of them.

Jack just keeps raging, but Janet is having regrets. Notice how she doesn't cry until Tim is brought up. Could be nothing, could be something.

And then she dies.

Her only other major appearance is when Tim is having a fever dream from the Clench and everything is kind of okay for a minute.

Tim very clearly loves his mom. And we may not get a lot of characterization for her, but she's not cold or callous like people write her constantly.

And now, we finally have a little more about her as of Batman 134.

I haven't really been keeping up since the Gotham War stuff because What The Fuck Was That My Guy, but I recently saw this specific comic.

The multiverse is fucked up again, some way some how, and Bruce is lost (again) and Tim has to get him back (again). This time, Tim is going in after him. But he doesn't end up going straight to Bruce.

He goes to see an alt of his mom.

Tim missed her so much that he ended up going to her before Bruce.

And her immediate reaction is to run up and hug him. Does that look like a mother who doesn't love her son?

"Do you have anyone to take care of you?"

"I don't know how this happened, this miracle...but I just know, in my heart of hearts, it was to show me...that every version of my son is a good one."

Tell me again that this woman is heartless and didn't want her son, I fucking dare you.

And we get more meaning to the name "Robin" and a little crumb about Tim's grandmother. As a treat.

This is all to say, please stop writing Janet Drake as a cold, heartless bitch.

Small final note though: Jack Drake is, in fact, a shitty person and a shitty father. He does still love Tim and Tim loves him AND THAT IS NOT UP FOR DEBATE, but the relationship is a mess. If either parent is actively abusive, it's 1000% Jack "smashed a TV because my son wasn't listening to me and threatened Bruce Wayne at gunpoint" Drake. Probably part of why the marriage was falling apart.

Anyway, yeah, let's retire the "Jack and Janet Drake are Bad Parents" tag and replace it with "Jack Drake is a Bad Parent" and "Janet Drake's C+ Parenting" or something.

#DC Comics #Detective Comics #Batman #Robin #Janet Drake #Tim Drake

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essycogany · 8 months

Text

Rare But Not So Rare Sonic Moments

Flaws

This may get controversial.

I welcome anyone else’s view point on this topic. If you don’t agree I’m okay with that. Just because I have a different perspective doesn’t make what I think right or wrong. You don’t have to change your mind. Whatever your opinion is, I respect it. Besides, it’s fun to have different views on something we both love. It gives us a way to see different sides of the coin.

Disclaimer: I’m a person who didn’t grow up with this franchise and only recently got into in early 2022. I have no biases towards any version of this character. Making my opinions about his characterizations mixed.

By the way, I’ll only use Sonic games as examples (for the most part) because this analysis would be too long if I talked about other medias.

In short. Most of his flaws do stir into different medias as well. To be honest, Sonic’s other variants aren’t as different as some may think, but that’s my hot take.

Times The Blue Blur Messed Up

Riders: Sonic lunched Amy along with Eggman into the air with his wind abilities. While knowing Amy’s safety would be at risk. Then left her. Which was the reason she was so angry and aggressive afterwards. He didn’t ever apologize either.

06: Exchanged a chaos emerald for Elise even after Tails warned Sonic not to.

Unleashed: Was distracted by taunting Eggman.

Sonic: “Well, this is new. Showing remorse Eggman? If you played nice, I wouldn’t have to break all your toys.”

Then became the Werehog. All because he wanted to boost his ego.

Secret Rings: Shahra used Sonic to collect the world rings for Erazar Djinn. Even though it should’ve been expected because she said, “They use to work together.” Ended up not being true.

Black Night: Was tricked into helping Merlina who wanted to create a world that would last forever.

Lost World: Tails once again tried to warn Mr.Impatient about the conch in Eggman’s hand, but kicked it anyways. Then warned Sonic about another trap, he didn’t listen, ended up getting the fox captured instead.

Frontiers: Accidentally helped free The End despite Knuckles and Sage’s suspensions. If his friends, Eggman, and Sage didn’t help him…..Well, it’s in the villain's name.

Side Note: In Secret Rings, Black night, and Frontiers Sonic was rude at points.

Sonic Sassiness

Sonic Sassiness Part 2

Sonic’s Overall Flaws/Mistakes

Some may be from his general characterizations throughout his history.

Sonic rushes into things without a second thought. (Impulsiveness) Sonic can be too reckless, brash, or not take situations seriously.

He’s impatient. (Which was his core trait since his idle animation in Sonic 1)

He doesn’t listen to his friends warnings. Sonic can be too cocky at the wrong moments. He causes or contributes to world ending consequences. The blue blur can also be too trusting and naive.

Sonic doesn’t worry about his own physical or mental state and internalizes his emotions. He isn’t able to express himself very well. Therefore doesn’t put the right words together when speaking sometimes.

Sonic can be stubborn and a bit of a jerk.

Sage: “You are short tempered and short sided.”

And that’s about it. If I missed anything, feel free to let me know.

My Thoughts

A few of these can be seen as Sonic’s strength and weaknesses. Like his willingness to harm himself if it means to save his friends.

The reason Sonic never learns from his mistakes in the games is because he gets away with them. Which is not a good or bad thing per say. (Besides Sonic Riders. There’s no excuse for that.)

The stories never really given him an arc. But I don’t think Sonic’s a perfect or flawless character. If the examples I’ve shown are evidence of anything.

I’d say he’s static, but not consistently. Most static characters I’ve seen rarely stays static anyways.

I also don’t believe Sonic himself thinks he’s perfect. Sonic probably thinks he doesn’t have to change because he’s so sure he should be able to manage things without issue. Everything does eventually go his way. Why should he change?

I do understand Sonic influences people, but why can’t there be a balance? It’s been done plenty of times with other characters. In books, movies, and tv shows. Animated and live-action.

Movie!Sonic in Sonic 2 inspired both Knuckles and Tails. Helping them better themselves with advice and encouragement. While also going through his own arc of growing up and being responsible.

Tails:“You’ve inspired me. To leave my village. To find you and help you on your mission.”

Despite him learning how to slow down and plan things out, Prime!Sonic also inspires the different variants of his friends. Thorn, Dread, and Nine. Helping them grow into becoming better people.

Even in Unleashed Sonic was at his most mature, but it was only after his cocky attitude got him into trouble. So, yes. Inspirational characters can have flaws.

I’ll just say this

Everyone has their own views on how Sonic should be characterized, drawn, played, voiced, animated, and showcase.

It’s fine if you don’t like a curtain interpretation of a character, but to say the character (Especially if they weren’t very consistent in the first place) isn’t acting like themselves now, it’s really hard to argue what self there is to come back to. Because even in the games there are so many different selves for these characters in their own canon universe. From Classic to Adventure, Unleashed, Colors, and Frontiers. (If that makes any sense)

It’s hard to find one place to be in because Sonic’s been in too many places at once. He shouldn’t be held down to one characterization if he’s already been all over the place from the beginning of his existence.

AKA Sonic’s first two shows ever. TAOSTH and SATAM. In both shows Sonic had flaws as well, but never learned from them. Which means he’s been like this from the start. Like everything else about this franchise, his personality is an ongoing experiment that’ll probably never be solved. And I kind of love that. Even if it can be stressful and has it’s own up’s and down’s

All of these unique stories from the games, comics, tv shows, and movies people grew up with are what made this franchise so popular. This is the main reason I became a Sonic fan. Because I learned so much about characterization from this franchise and how to love the different variations of its characters. Finding an appreciation for each of them.

Conclusion

Everyone’s opinions are valid at the end of the day. At least we all have a version of this character we can love and appreciate. Whether you agree or not I’m grateful you’ve made it all the way to the end. You’re a trooper!

Stay Creative! 💜

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lurkingshan · 3 months

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Hi genuine question, i totally get what you mean with gmmtv but isn't branded pairs something that's pretty common among the thai bl industry in general? Not just with gmmtv. We have zeenunew, boumprem (before joining gmmtv), maxtul (before seperating), mosbank, yinwar, fortpeat... etc, where a lot of their shows are just to serve the bigger picture of selling a pair? I get that gmmtv is overselling it, i myself don't follow their stuff anymore (albeit i don't really watch thai bl) but isn't this a discussion that fits the industry as a whole?

Hello! Most definitely, branded pairs is A Thing across the Thai bl industry and not just at GMMTV. A broader discussion of the pros and cons of that system would necessarily include most of the Thai studios producing bl. But my post earlier wasn’t tackling that precisely, more the way GMMTV is using their pairs and how it’s affecting their shows. There are a few aspects to this:

They are routinely using branded pairs in shows where one or both of them is miscast, but they must be partnered and promoted and that gets prioritized over the story.

Many of their recent shows are essentially just vehicles for churning out ship moments, with weak writing and consistent story and characterization always secondary to getting a cute moment with virality potential on film.

There are clear signs of interference in the storytelling where actors who are part of branded pairs, and thus considered active revenue streams, must end up together and must also have their images protected even if it interferes with their characters.

They also constantly make in-jokes and meta references to the pairs’ other couples in new shows, encouraging fans to blur the lines between the actors and the characters.

They are the biggest studio in Thailand, quickly growing into total market domination, and they have a huge number of actors on their roster. Almost none of them have publicly acknowledged romantic partners. Their talent are expected to commit to their assigned ships, hide their personal lives, and perform queerness publicly as their job while being restricted in private.

Speaking of, their shows are feeling increasingly confused on the existence of homophobia in their fictional universes and it has been an active problem affecting the story in several recent bls. GMMTV is not often putting out content that feels genuinely informed by queer experience, whereas other Thai studios most certainly are.

They have more resources than any other studio in the Thai bl space, and they absolutely could invest in good writing and stronger productions to tell better stories if they wanted to. But they don’t, because that is not their primary objective.

I’ll just add as a final point that this matters because GMMTV is so influential in the Thai bl space. What they do sets a precedent for other studios and for the larger industry. If they wanted to lead on creating an industry that was more supportive of good storytelling, that was more responsible about fan and actor interactions, that was more concerned about their talent as full human beings rather than as commodities, they could, and there are other studios making honest efforts towards those goals. I’d rather give them more of my time, dollars, and attention.

#shan answers #gmmtv #thai bl

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altraviolet · 10 months

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How do you find a character's 'voice'? I have no problem writing OCs, but when it comes to existing characters I get so anxious that I'm mischaracterizing them!

This is a great question! This is definitely something I struggle with sometimes. Here are some of the things I've done to try to keep characterization consistent:

watched a bunch of videos about characterization and the craft of writing

gone back to the canon and reread parts that featured the character you're trying to write

reduced the character to like, ONE descriptor, ONE "essence," if you will. JRO did a great job making very identifiable characters for us. although many of the initial characterizations are modified by the end of the comic, you can still use that "essence". I'll give an ex in a minute but after you identify that "essence," keep it in mind for your character when you write them

when writing from their POV, or from a close third narration (or heck second person talking to them), remember what the character knows. how did they get to the place they are now? what kinds of details in a room would they notice?

This is not all I've done but it would take me SO LONG to put together more points so we'll move on~!

Okay so for more details on the above:

The Essence Thing

I think Ultra Magnus is a really good example of this. We're introduced to him having a very specific outlook on life (we literally see through his eyes in one early panel, it's great). We understand him to be a VERY strict mech who adheres to the Autobot Law to the letter (semi-colon, actually, lol). We see him meticulously arrange and rearrange objects, we see him point out screws that are misaligned by 0.001% (paraphrase, I don't remember the exact wordage). All in all, it's really easy to understand in just a couple of words who he is. Meticulous to a fault. Rodimus distracts him by using bad grammar on purpose.

By the end of the comics, he's loosened up a little. And (SPOILERS for the end of the comics), Megatron telling him to abandon his armor and be true to himself is something he's receptive to. Whereas in the beginning he wore it as somewhat literal armor. And refused to smile.

So what have I done with my fic? Well, it's important to keep in mind that UM isn't going to change all his ways. He won't be as much of a stickler as before, because he's learned to have friends in some capacity, and that's loosened him up a little tiny bit. But he's going to retain that core trait of being really into keeping things neat and tidy. And, the UM that Megatron told to abandon his armor isn't the one that made the jump. So I assumed they had that convo later in their friendship. The TEG UM still has those organized traits (cuz it's funny), but he's not as bad as he used to be.

So hopefully that makes sense. Boil your character down to a trait or two and keep it in mind for everything.

Oh boy the asks are piling up so I'm gonna try to go a bit faster now.

What The Character Knows

Let's do a little thought experiment. Tailgate and Drift walk into a random Autobot bar. What does each mech notice?

If I said one of them quickly identifies friendly mechs and the other one identifies unfriendly mechs, can you tell which did which? Who notices the energon specials and who takes note of the weapons behind the bar? Which one will remember a time he went with his conjunx to a bar and didn't get in a fight? haha

Okay so you can probably guess the answers that I intended for the above! Drift had a hard past, then became a violent Decepticon. Tailgate was asleep for 6 million years and then woke up and befriended a ton of people and had Movie Nights and also some trauma but he never had to fight for his life like Drift did.

So, as you can see, what the character knows (which is informed by their past, their education, their belief systems, the friends they have, the enemies they have, etc) really impacts how they see the world. And you can use that to your advantage by trying to look through their eyes keeping in mind what they know.

Sorry I'm gonna have to end this here, but this is a great topic. I'll try to write more about character voice and POV in the future. If you want to poke me later about it here or on twitter, please do. I will get my thoughts together and also find the links to the videos I've watched :)

#ask #anonymous #character voice #characterization #writing advice #long post

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gwenllian-in-the-abbey · 2 months

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Hey Gwen! Can I ask you something? What do you think of this post? https://www.tumblr.com/philhelaena/757011234089566208/thinking-about-how-hotd-introduced-adult-aegon-as?source=share

I don't really agree with it since Dyana is still present in this season and even in the previous season he was the punching bag and scapegoat of the family, but I can't find the words to explain how I disagree. What do you think?

Hi anon. With no disrespect intended to the OP of this post,. I've seen this take floating around for awhile now, that Aegon is somehow completely different from his S1 character and that it's somehow of fandom pandering, and I disagree.

First of all, the idea that half the fandom decided to ignore the fight pits and the sexual assault and focus on Aegon being drunk and funny is just flat out incorrect. At the end of S1 it was hard to write a single sympathetic word about Aegon without someone accusing you of being a rape apologist, and even now, while the casual audiences are more sympathetic towards Aegon, people can hardly say they've been enjoying his character without issuing a disclaimer, "he's a terrible person but ...". Team green has always been in a minority (I think in the polls HBO puts out team green is consistently under 15%), and even among people who enjoy team green, until recently it wasn't uncommon for people to say they loved all the greens except Aegon. On AO3 were more Lucemond fics than there were fics featuring all of the Aegon ships combined. So the idea that the showrunners were somehow listening to the 10 people who admitted to enjoying Aegon back when they were writing the S2 scripts and changing his characterization accordingly is pretty silly.

That said, I do think the show toned down Aegon's awfulness a bit. I think TGC himself probably had as much to do with this as any of the fans. That man is relentlessly advocating for his character, stating again and again that he not simply a villain, that that he is capable of empathy and love, that he is someone who feels too deeply rather than the opposite. The way he talks about Aegon and his children makes it pretty clear that he has a vision for this character and has advocated for certain character choices, and good for him! He cares a lot about Aegon and takes his job seriously and it shows because he has gotten heaps of praise for bringing depth to a character who could easily veer into cartoon villainy, and is winning over the sympathies of people who 2 years ago wouldn't have pissed on Aegon if he were on fire. In fact, recent poll on the main HotD subreddit of all places placed Aegon as the best written character so far and it wasn't even close.

And this is good! Considering what happens to Aegon in S2, as well as the endgame of the whole entire story, it's pretty important that the audience be able to connect with him on some level and feel some level of sympathy for him.

And to be honest, I'd challenge the idea that Aegon had some huge personality switchup between S1 and S2. People have to remember, we had a grand total in S1 of about 8-10 minutes with Aegon. He was not, at that point, a fully realized character. Some people envisioned a much darker character than the show ended up settling on, but those headcanons are as much headcanons as the silly goofy drunk Aegon was, as "good loyal brother" Aemond was. And I have to stress, people can interpret characters however they like, and they can certainly disagree with the direction the writers go with a character, but a character who has 8 minutes of screentime ending up having more facets to him once he appears in a primary role in S2 is not the same thing as a character assassination. And perhaps, just perhaps, the child fight pits were the OOC part and Condal etc. pulled back on that characterization because it was incongruous with the guy who was genuinely baffled when Aemond threw him under the bus for the bastard remarks, the guy dying of embarrassment when his sister roasted him at dinner, crying over a slap from his mother, trying to run away rather than take the crown, and asking Alicent "do you love me?" before crying his way through his own coronation. Aegon was a depressive alcoholic in S1 and remained a depressive alcoholic in S2. Was there a chaotic element to him? Certainly! He's got massive substance abuse problems which completely skews his judgment and inhibitions, making him self destructively impulsive. Is there a darkness in him? Of course! If nothing else, he's a Targaryen prince, someone who has grown up with the power of life and death at his fingertips. And we see this! The show has not allowed us to forget about the ratcatchers (and as you mentioned OP, Dyana is still there too)!

Finally, I will say that people who think Aegon is being shown to be a pure buffoon this season haven't been paying attention. Aegon was gaslit by his family members for four episodes straight because they wanted to keep him weak, and the way to do that was to undercut his confidence and trash his self worth. He was correct about nearly single issue he raised -- Harrenhal, the blockade, the smallfolk, needing to be informed about the battle plans Cole and Aemond were making. Hell, even the assassination attempt is something that Otto himself was planning, and Otto himself ordered landed gentry executed for refusing to bend the knee before Aegon was even crowned, a much bigger deal than executing a few ratcatchers! Aegon has a class clown demeanor a lot of the time, but he's not stupid. The thing is, Aegon could have been spouting the most eloquently worded arguments and they were still going to resist him because they whole entire point was to discourage him so that he would lose interest, Alicent even says it point blank to Otto. The thing is, Aegon has good instincts but lacks the confidence to not second guess those instincts because he knows he doesn't have the experience or the training necessary to be an effective king on his own. Aegon's ability to listen is one of his better qualities as a king in fact (I'm sure the council is missing it now that they have Aemond), but he is too concerned with winning the approval of not just his subjects, but the people he cares for, including Alicent and Aemond. Aegon is remarkably perceptive, and he does have a good sense about people, but this is his weakness and unfortunately his family has zero problem exploiting it. Now, will that continue going forward? Unlikely! Aegon is still evolving! In the span of a few months he's been crowned king, lost a child, been undermined and diminished, and has become permanently disabled due to the betrayal of his own brother. Certainly, he is going to change, for better or worse.

#asks #i know there is a contingent here unhappy with aegon's writing and that's fine #and anyone who has read my blog knows i have major issues with the show but this is not one of them #S1 Aegon is just not that drastically different from S2 Aegon #and the ways that aegon been completely correct about a number of things is way too on the nose to be accidental #aegon ii targaryen #hotd critical

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linka-from-captain-planet · 7 months

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Florrickology, Part 4: Florrick, Wyll, Ulder, and Character Assassination

We all know it, we all hate it. They did my beloved dirty, used her to shit all over Wyll's quest at what should be a climactic moment, and I will never forgive never forget it.

In Act 3, if Wyll rejects Mizora's offer to rescue his father from the Iron Throne in favor of keeping his pact broken, Florrick will ambush the party, inform them that "Lady Mizora" told her what he did, and seek retribution unless talked down.

This is stupid, makes no sense, assassinates Florrick's character for no good reason, and represents some of Larian's laziest NPC writing--unsurprisingly, in the midst of Wyll's personal quest, and smack dab in what's supposed to be the climax of one of the longest quests in the game.

As I said in previous posts, Florrick being willing to go to the mat for Ulder any day or time of the week is consistent with her other characterization.

Up to the point of this confrontation, the player has observed that she'll follow Ulder to literal hell and back, chase him across half a continent, and become so disappointed in her perceived failure to save him and, by extension, the entire city, that she completely gives up and quietly awaits execution, without even trying to escape (which she probably could do, as a level 11, probably Enchantment School wizard).

All her voice lines and all the things others say about her paint the picture of a loyal and true-blue friend, and a public servant of the highest caliber, "as steady as Tyr's heartbeat" and "as upstanding as the Sword Mountains." She may be sharp and shrewd, and perhaps a bit domineering and curt, but she's not cruel. She may be a bit cavalier, but she's never rash.

She's not stupid. She may be more emotional than she seems.

She has killed someone before, on the spot, for coming after Ulder. It's consistent that she would do it again, even if she had to hunt them down this time and risk being caught by the Steel Watch. In her mind, she has nothing left to lose.

What is not consistent is her being willing to kill Wyll on a flimsy accusation (that she doesn't even really believe if you read her thoughts).

Now as I've mentioned, Florrick doesn't seem to feel any particular way about Wyll; she seems to regard him simply as her friend and boss' son, just a good kid she patted on the head at parades, and when they meet again in Waukeen's Rest, as a valuable asset in rescuing Ulder and saving the city.

And I like this! It highlights that Ulder was Wyll's entire world, and it was Ulder, alone, who failed him and cast him aside. I think this is also part of why there's never any indication that Florrick and Ulder are/were romantically involved, because this would change the expectations for how she treats/feels about Wyll. But as it stands, simply being a woman in the vicinity of a child, even one in need, didn't obligate her to be a mother.

And this the feeling is mutual. In-game, there's also no indication that Wyll had or desired had any sort of personal relationship with her, as he talks about her accomplishments but not, say, seeking her out for advice or spending time with her. He mentions crushing on Stellmayne, but when asked about Florrick, he goes right to "yeah she fucks, she sniped a guy right in front of me once." He only regards her in relation to his father and the city, never himself. She's his dad's confidant and advisor, and an exemplary public servant, but nothing in particular to him.

So, it's not how Florrick feels about Wyll that makes it out of character for her to attack him, but because of how she knows Ulder feels about Wyll.

She says herself, when talked down in that confrontation, that Ulder wanted her to find Wyll and pass his birthright on if he fell, because as many mistakes as Ulder made, and as wrong as he was, and as unacceptable as his behavior was, in the end, he trusted his boy with the fate of his beloved city.

So, Florrick would never betray Ulder by attacking his son, without irrefutable evidence, especially when she'd been told explicitly to trust and help Wyll by the person she respects and reveres the most in the entire world.

As one of the most prominent NPCs in the game, appearing with a fairly significant role in all three acts, and who's been demonstrated to be an unquestionable heroic figure all along, Florrick deserved better than what she got in this blatantly lazy, formulaic scene.

And that's the answer to the question of 'why is this scene so bad?' - lazy, formulaic writing.

That's also probably the answer to any 'why is this Act 3 moment and/or NPC interaction so clunky?' question. This confrontation is Like That because it's how every every NPC Confrontation is: someone is willing to kill you for variably logical reasons, unless you talk your way out of it, and the end result is only nominally different, so it was pointless from the jump. It's the illusion of drama and conflict and a plot twist, not real drama and conflict and plot twist. Of course she (andWyllcoughcough) isn't safe from the "uh oh this game isn't done but we're shipping it anyway so we better make this story beat messy, both under-and over-whelming, and confusing to match the overall tone of Act 3" curse.

So you might then move on to, "okay, well, what's the in-universe explanation for this? How can we make it make sense, considering what we know about Florrick?"

I won't give them credit for implying anything they didn't bother to imply, even though they could have gone several other routes with about 2 lines of better dialogue and a simple animation. So, I think the only true, canonical reason Florrick does this is exactly what's presented in the text. She was approached by "Lady" Mizora, a stranger, told a lie, only half-believed it, slapped a fuckass hood on over her very distinctive freakum dress, went on the hunt, and ambushed the party in front of like 50 human, 5 cat, and 3 Steel Watch witnesses even though she's a fugitive marked for execution.

That's it. There's no further context. Again, nothing implied. As you can tell by this entire series, I will read into anything, and there's simply nothing to read into here.

No indication that Mizora charmed or is controlling Florrick, a simple explanation that could have been easily been introduced with about 1 line, a special effect, and a mocap of her "snapping out of it."

No revelation that "Lady" Mizora has been posing as a patriar and pulling strings in Baldur's Gate for the last seven years, working closely with and maybe kissin haha jk... unless Florrick, making it perfectly reasonable why she'd believe Mizora over Wyll, who's been not only missing BUT cavorting with devils for those same seven years, which is ironic because Florrick had unknowingly been doing the same thing (juicy!). (more thoughts on this)

There's not even really a feeling that Florrick, who again did all that mentioned above for Ulder and her city, is simply just so heartbroken and grieving and demoralized that she's experiencing a mental breakdown and a critical lapse in judgement, grasping at anything to make it make sense or to make her feel in control again, even if she has her doubts deep down. Again, this could have easily been written in with a few lines and some body language. I feel like this is what they thought they did, but the fact is they didn't even though it would have been easy and cost basically 0 extra resources or time.

Clearly, this scene got rubber-stamped because they (painfully correctly) assumed that nobody would care about Wyll's storyline at this point, and his supporting character Florrick with it. They probably just figured that we'd all forget how wack it was when we continued the quest and got gagged by the Emporer being a gay dragon-fucker and also Balduran.

So, what would have made this scene/part of the quest better?

To be clear, better is a pretty low bar as the canonical version full-on sucks. The above suggestions are only what could have made this specific scene (Florrick Confronts Wyll About Killing His Father) better. But really, Wyll's quest, as we all know, needs an overhaul. So, below is what's overall needed to make Wyll's entire quest in Act 3 better.

maintain Florrick's characterization (this post is about Florrick after all)

give Wyll a chance to be a hero in his own story

actually utilize Mizora, who's truly been pretty pointless all this time

provide a sense of stakes--it has to matter what happens

get everything the fuck away from that fucking magic show

I had a whole alternative Act 3 storyline written to suggest, Boss Fight Mizora Avernus and all, but realized just before posting that it doesn't work because it ends with Wyll destroying his pact, and he does sort of need that to remain a warlock for the endgame (being forced to re-class at the 11th hour would be a bit of a bold move). But trust me it was cool and better than what we got.

#bg3 spoilers #bg3 #florrickology #counsellor florrick #wyll ravengard #ulder ravengard #mizora #this one gets real tags bc it's an actual critique and not a simp post about her hips this time

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bluecatwriter · 3 months

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I watched the Wildhorn/Black/Hampton Dracula rock opera!

Okay, okay, okay. As some of you know, one of the guys in my theater troupe got me comp tickets to see him in Dracula: The Musical. You guys. It was an EGREGIOUS adaptation that didn't even make narrative sense on its own terms. I also had a TOTAL BLAST.

If you like the musical, no shade to you— please just keep scrolling and like what you like! However, I had so many thoughts about this that I had to word-vomit about it, and thought some of you might have fun reading my thoughts on the good, the bad, and ugly for 3,000 words.

TL:DR: Very fun experience, so glad I went, the play's narrative choices make me want to throw hands in a Denny's parking lot, much dunking/adaptation-hate ahead, my friends are amazing, I'm writing my own play now.

(CW discussion of rape, ableism, drug use, suicide)

-First of all, everyone take a moment to appreciate my eyeliner. I do not usually draw eyeliner that well so I was very proud of myself.

-I went with my sister, since we both knew people in the cast. (I thought we knew three, but we actually knew four: the actors who played Dracula, Mina, Lucy, and Quincey.) My sister didn't know anything about Dracula except what she'd picked up from my incoherent ramblings (which I generally keep to a minimum around her).

-It was a black-box theater, which I didn't expect: six or so rows of chairs on each side of the theater, facing each other across the relatively small room, with the stage in the middle and a live orchestra (!!!) on one end. The set was a minimalist Gothic castle design, with windows, a freestanding moving wall, and a large platform that, throughout the play, served as Dracula's coffin, a table, Lucy's bed, Lucy's coffin, and just a general place to stand and sing in a badass way. I absolutely LOVE black box shows because they're so intimate: you can almost reach out and touch the actors, and you can see every minute facial expression and gesture, the light glittering in their eyes, and so on. (Acting in a black box theater is much more like movie acting because the audience can see what you're doing with your eyes in a way that regular theater doesn't allow, meaning that things like eye contact between characters is much more electric and effective.)

-The sound design and lighting effects were doing a lot of heavy lifting in this show, and they nailed it. Very spooky!

-The play began with the weird sisters, and they were consistently my favorite part of the play— the actresses killed it (ha), bringing an intense, spooky energy to the story, often serving as narrators, background singers, extras, special effects handlers (such as portraying the wreck of the Demeter), and the physical manifestation of Dracula's will/presence. They were AWESOME.

-I had decided in advance that this play was a fanfiction written by Dracula about himself, and nothing about the show dissuaded me from this idea. The guy who played Dracula served major cunt from the moment he stepped onstage, wearing leather pants with laces up the side and a big sweeping coat and a huge amount of eyeliner that really brought out his unnervingly blue eyes. ("All guys should wear eyeliner and leather pants," I joked to my sister after the show, and she responded, with the most haunted look I've ever seen, "I agree about the eyeliner, but not the pants. I lived in San Francisco for three years, and you know not what you speak of. There are things I cannot unsee.")

-Actually, to be honest I liked Dracula's characterization (until the end; see below); whether because of the director or the actor or both, this version really did not downplay what a bastard he is. He was incredibly ruthless, in all senses of the word: focused on a single goal and not caring who got mowed down in the process. Anytime his sung lines talked about him being lonely or sad or whatever, the actor played it off as him trying to garner sympathy from his listener, rather than expressing his true feelings, which was a directing/acting choice I really appreciated.

-When Jonathan came on stage (from the door just a few feet away) I nearly squealed with delight! He just RADIATED "biggest sweetheart you've ever met" energy: tall and lanky and with a scruffy lil beard and clothes that didn't quite fit. I was in love with him from the beginning. Also he got to mention his Kodak camera, and I remembered that I could not actually cheer at moments like that because that would be weird.

-The Dracula-Mina "romance" was introduced very early, which I appreciated; from a storytelling perspective, it was good to have that continuous thread. Dracula looks at a picture of Mina, mentions how young she is, asks Jonathan if she is "pure," and then decides that they're soulmates. It was SO PERVY. Once again, I loved the Dracula characterization. If only it had stayed one-sided…

-I was fortunately warned that in this version Jonathan takes the crucifix off so the weird sisters can continue attacking him, but I still had to suppress a "BOOOOO!" (I did whisper "NOT CANON!" to my sister, and later she said that when that happened in the play she was like, "Oh, okay, I don't care what happens to this guy now.") But I guess it did have the effect of making him less sympathetic, which served the story the play was trying to tell.

-I was pleased that there was a Drac-drinking-from-Jonathan scene, and consistent with the storytelling, Drac had a whole song about how he needs Jonathan's blood so he can be young and hot and go seduce Mina (which, again, fits with the story they were telling). They decided not to have any sexual tension between Dracula and Jonathan, so the blood-drinking scene was pretty brutal (complimentary)— Jonathan laid out on the platform with Drac just. gnawing on his neck while Jonathan writhed and convulsed. It was still kinda hot though not gonna lie

-Lucy's characterization at first was pretty interesting, because her song about the three suitors (and the directing/acting) made it seem like she was just kinda stuck with three mediocre choices, and chose the least offensive one (Arthur, who she describes as boring and can't even think of one nice thing to say about him) and tried to convince herself that she would be happy. This was honestly the biggest moment where I had to just squirm in my seat to keep from actively booing. Don't be so mean 2 my boy! From a storytelling perspective, it wasn't clear at all why she chose Arthur, because Quincey was the only one of the suitors who had any personality at all (even Jack was bland. JACK. WAS BLAND. YOU COULDN'T HAVE HIM SIT ON HIS HAT OR AT LEAST FIDDLE WITH HIS LANCET? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU???). Anyway, Arthur was actually totally fine after that song (and had some nice lines in the group songs).

-Meanwhile, Drac is creeping on Mina by entering her thoughts without her consent and being like, "We're soulmates," and she just…. goes along with it???? With literally no rhyme or reason to her decision???? I know some of this is that I hate the whole concept of soulmates, but I expected at least SOME justification for why she was interested in him. There was no indication she was unhappy with Jonathan; there was no hint of any emotional connection; there wasn't even some weird "reincarnated lover" story to try to soften how incredibly strange it felt that Mina was randomly in love with this guy's voice in her head. His baritone is sexy BUT IT IS NOT THAT SEXY. GIRL PLEASE.

-In this version Dracula bites Lucy because he's trying to call Mina to him and Lucy comes by accident and he's like, "Well, nothin' I can do about that. CHOMP." Which, again, I honestly liked this characterization because he's not apologetic about who he is; he is just destroying everyone in his way and not caring about them as people. He just has a goal and he'll do anything to reach it.

-Then of course Lucy's like, "Oooh that was actually so sexy and I never want to wake up from that dream of him chomping on my throat." The directly seemed to imply that being bitten by a vampire just. instantly turns you into something that's not yourself, so I could kinda excuse it if I squinted, but it was still pretty icky.

-Renfield got to stab Jack! My sister felt sorry for Jack (because all his unethical science got shaved off in this adaptation) and I was just like, "YESSS RENFIELD YOU GO!"

-Jonathan shows up again, in a wheelchair (a really cool old-fashioned one), and Mina goes to marry him, and their marriage is paralleled with Lucy and Arthur's while Drac looms in the background. The double wedding was a nice staging choice, although the optics of Mina somewhat reluctantly marrying disabled Jonathan while abled Dracula is standing by being All Sexy was… uh, it was not great. But on the plus side, maybe it emphasizes the ableism that a lot of people have toward Jonathan's disabilities in the story, bringing them out into the open? (I am grasping at straws here.)

-Van Helsing was perfect! The actor had wild gray hair and forehead bumps and a tenor voice that could shatter your heart into a million pieces. He did a great job of having the "weird professor" vibes even though his lines were more coherent and to-the-point than they are in the book.

-No blood transfusions, sadly, but I see why they cut that part.

-Lucy turning vamp was very well done. I think I should mention at this point that the actors who played Dracula and Lucy are actually married to each other in real life, and they had really crackling chemistry and it was clear in every scene they were together that they were having just the best time. "Life After Life" was my second-favorite song in the play because it's just Dracula sending Lucy out to eat people— and again, both actors were clearly having SO MUCH FUN performing this song together. At the end of the scene I was all pumped up, like, "Yeah Lucy! Go eat some people!!!"

-Intermission. I told my sister this was like the part in Rashomon where the rapist tells the court his point of view and is like, "Oh, she totally wanted it." My sister shook her head at me and chuckled.

-The graveyard/Bloofer Lady scene was genuinely horrifying; Lucy's actress did an AMAZING job of amping up the horror, beginning the scene by cradling a baby and singing it a lullaby, then just CHOMPING down on it, and throwing it down and hissing like an animal when the Crew of Light approached her. Mina and Jonathan were in that scene, too, and even though Mina didn't have any lines, seeing her reacting to it (rushing to grab the child, dodging out of Bloofer!Lucy's snapping jaws) gave the scene a lot of emotional intensity.

-Both Bloofer!Lucy's death and Renfield's death were directed beautifully; they were both somewhat quiet, almost slow motion, focused not on the violence but on the emotional weight of both their lives ending.

-Jonathan and Arthur, while both being incredibly bland characters, have I think more dialogue in this play than they do in the book. Every time they spoke I was like, :D :D :D! My blorbos!!!

-Throughout Mina's whole song "Please Don't Make Me Love You" (sung, of course, to Dracula) I focused VERY HARD on my friend's amazing acting, her beautiful voice, the way she was playing this with absolute conviction, while in the back of my head I was screaming. Just a primal, Nazgul-like shriek. GIRL WHY (I think my sister was amused by how much I was squirming)

-Van Helsing has a nice little song about his dead wife, saying that it was a vampire that killed her and that's why he's a vampire hunter now. He was also shooting up with a comically large syringe during this song, but sure, yeah, that's fine. Like I said, his voice was SO BEAUTIFUL, so I was entranced. If only he had gotten a chance to find connection and family ties in order to continue that character arc HINT HINT

-Ah, then we get the Blood Baptism scene. Mina sings a song about how she doesn't want to run away (because of that sexy baritone voice I guess) so she invites Dracula into her room, he knocks out Jonathan, and then they make out over Jonathan's body. Le sigh. The funniest part of this scene is that they had her drink from his chest but they didn't use any fake blood, so he just unbuttons his shirt and she buries her face in his boobs, no context. I asked my sister afterward, "What did you think was going on in that scene?" and she said, "I figured she was drinking from his vampire-milk titties."

-Van Helsing and Dracula got an "I will take you down!"-style song that was actually really cool.

-Then, suddenly, out of nowhere, BOOK-CANON MINA SHOWS UP! She was in a wheelchair now (a great directing choice, I thought), and demanded that Van Helsing hypnotize her, insisted on them keeping the information from her so that Dracula can't get to it, makes them all vow to kill her, and figures out where Dracula is going based on the maps. I was like THERE SHE IS! THERE'S MY GIRL! …But unfortunately this characterization makes no sense in the story the musical is actually telling. Why is Mina leading them to him? Why is she taking such pains to make sure Dracula is not warned of their coming? It didn't fit with any of her characterization in the rest of the play (and especially not with the ending), so it felt really cobbled-together and odd.

-Also Jonathan vows to kill her and there's a whole song about how sad he is that he will have to do that. I was gritting my teeth the whole song being like It's a storytelling choice it's a storytelling choice it's a storytelling choice it's a storytelling choice it's a

-Okay. YOU GUYS. YOU GUYS. The song "Deep in the Darkest Night" WAS AMAZING. It's a song by the Crew of Light (and in this version, sung by all six of them, including Mina) about their quest, and how they must be points of light in the darkness. It was SO BEAUTIFUL and SO THEMATICALLY ON POINT and it was EVERYTHING I WANTED from a Dracula musical and it is a CRIME that the whole play was not built around these themes and motifs!! *chewing on the scenery* Also, holy cow, everyone in the cast could sing like nothing else. Full-body chills. Stunning, incredible, showstopping, no notes.

-In one of the hypnotic sessions, Dracula came to stand behind Mina and they sang a duet, a reprise of "Life After Life" (the song for Bloofer!Lucy), and that was an incredibly effective storytelling choice (also their voices just blended so. well. together that even in the songs I hated, I still got chills because their voices were SO DANG BEAUTIFUL TOGETHER). Again, I am haunted by what this play could've been if the Drac/Mina thing was one-sided.

-In this version, Quincey gives Mina his Bowie knife for protection, which I thought was sweet.

-Drac has a big sad-boy song about how he's actually in love with Mina now. BOOHOO MOTHERFUCKER. NO ONE CARES.

-Quincey got killed by trying to stake Dracula and Drac grabbing the stake and shoving it into his stomach. (My sister gasped and squeaked, "No!" when this happened.)

-Meanwhile, Van Helsing and Mina get separated, and Mina has a whole song about how she's made her final decision: she's gonna become a vampire and live with Dracula forever. At this point in the play I was like, Okay, girl, whatever, you do you…

-But then. BUT THEN. *frothing at the mouth*

-(Don Black and Christopher Hampton meet me in the Denny's parking lot I just want to talk)

-Drac's like, "Ooooh no actually I don't want you to be a vampire so you need to kill me now."

-Mina's like, "Nooooo this makes me so sad I have chosen to be a vampire and it is what I truly want!"

-Drac's like "Nobody cares what you want because the authors couldn't care less about your agency as a person"

-Mina's like "nooooooooo i'm so saaaaaad!"

-(Me: *still frothing at the mouth*)

-Finally, weeping, she takes Quincey's knife and places it over his heart.

-And then SHE DOESN'T EVEN FUCKING KILL HIM HE JUST GRABS HER HAND WITH THE KNIFE IN IT AND KILLS HIMSELF

-Like, I am just so mad that Mina doesn't even get the tiniest bit of agency here at the end. She is just blown about by the whims of the men, and at the end none of her narrative choices are respected in any way. A lot of this is, I'm sure, the directing for this particular performance: if I were trying to make this ending a bit more narratively satisfying, I would give Mina a moment where you can see her agreeing with him and deciding to kill him herself. This ending just felt… cheap. It didn't even form a satisfying closing even based on the rules of its own storytelling. It was so ridiculous that I actually had to cover my mouth to keep from laughing.

-After the show we got to talk to all our friends who were in it and it was easy to sincerely compliment them because they all did an AMAZING job. I feel so honored to be friends with such amazingly talented people!

-We drove home in a lightning storm while blasting Blondie's song "One Way or Another" (my sister said she was thinking of this song all through the Drac/Mina story arc) and singing loudly along. "ONE WAY OR ANOTHER/I'M GONNA FIND YA/I'M GONNA GETCHA GETCHA GETCHA GETCHA!"

-I asked her which two characters she thought I shipped the most and she guessed Jonathan/Quincey. Not a bad guess.

-Got home, rambled to my very tired spouse, curled up in bed, turned to him and said, "I promise to never leave you for some random dude who speaks in my head and says we're soulmates," and he replied, "And I promise to never leave you for three sexy vampire ladies," and if that's not a wedding vow renewal I don't know what is.

-Laid awake for nearly two hours brainstorming a Dracula play (not a musical, I'm not that talented). And, uh… yeah. A script is gonna happen. I've written plenty of plays (and co-directed/co-produced a few times), so it's definitely in my wheelhouse, and my brain will not shut up with ideas. So! *tosses it onto list of creative projects*

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(P.S. If you reblog, please don't tag this as the Dracula musical because I don't want any fans to be exposed to the hate. Thanks!)

#my writing #i guess???#dracula daily #dracula daily spoilers #i am still so amped up a day later #tw scopophobia #character hate

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