#that are intended to be critical of these topics

[lilacstro]

messages from someone(channeled messages pac)

hey, I wanted to post a pac for a while, so i did haha. It was hard to decide what topic should it be on, so i decided delivering messages from people who would want to come through, hoping it resonates

lmao all three piles were so different than one another, I enjoyed doing this tho. I hope you could resonate with this <3 leave suggestions and feedback in the comment or asks :) remember its a general reading and you dont have to take it if it doesnt feel right :) i love you :)

decks used: cupid says oracle, biddy tarot deck

pile 1 pile 2 pile 3

Pile 1

this doesnt seem to be a romantic pile specifically, feels like someone who you felt like family with, a sister, a female best friend or mother coming through, did they betray you in some way? doing something behind your back to pull you down, maybe criticizing something you wanted do or create. someone who could have cut you off or blown up on you for putting your side of feelings forward, some kind of argument could have occurred too. could be someone who thought you are doing to well, or, going after what you want, was too ambitious or man like? could be jealousy infact. Could be that they didnt intend to do so maybe? maybe it was heat of the moment? take what resonates. I see them wanting to come forward and apologize so much. Someone who is ready to rebuild what was gone, and take things forward with you, especially apologizing and creating a new emotional start, probably meaning wanting to leave everything that has happened in the past, It is in their heart to give you an apology, they might even have nightmares about it, they know they have to do it sooner or later and they have this realization. They want to take a quick-impulsive action too. They just know they have to do it. If its been a while, this person seems ready to come forward very soon.

channeled messages: I am confused this isnt a phase it still hurts i love you more take a leap its getting very dark and cloudy as i am reading this pile.

Pile 2

awww this feels like someone who has a crush on you. I was feeling very anxious while reading this pile trying to make meaning out of the cards even before they fell out or the spread was complete. So they might be overthinking everything(thats so cute) Also, as soon as i finished laying this deck down, the sun came back again lol.

This feels someone who you are either dating or wants to date you. Some possible scenarios I am getting are (since this is a general reading) being in an online/long distance connection or you might have not met this person yet, or atleast even if you know them they definitely seem at a little distance from you, even emotionally. Could also be cultural differences.

This person feels like someone who is walking away from something in their life. Going into the unknown, starting something new. Apart from this, they definitely want to start something with you, slowly even if its small, I see confidence issues here, feeling of not being good enough. This person wants to give you queen treatment pile 2 , but i feel they have this subconscious belief of wanting to be better, to be able to provide for you and give you what you deserve. Some of them might also be thinking what other people might think, they just dont want you to suffer with them in any way, they want the best for you before they can come forward to you. Financial stability is major here, maybe you or them have experiences or wounds around it. This person definitely is giving this a lot of time and serious thought

Channeled messages: I think about us a lot Make me believe(yeah man ig you need to because this person is very hard on themselves for even if they deserve you) I am yours the time is now

Pile 3

Ok so this feels like someone who has unfinished business with you, This screams to be a ex lover but could be a situationship/toxic old friend. Someone who is up at night thinking about how they couldnt give you what you deserved, not realising they slept on their chance to do that. I see it is someone you had a lot of love for, maybe you expected that the love was reciprocated but it rather caused you some kind of heartbreak. Some possible scenarios coming through are someone who probably left you without explanations, making you rely on other people for help or information, or someone who acted on what their friends or family told them to do instead or someone that caused you some kind of shame in front of people, making you some kind of "gossip topic" in the end. It could even be that you or them heard something from other people that could have caused trouble. Number 3 might be significant to someone, it was coming up a lot. Third party? 3 friends? 3 chances? March? could be, but its a general reading so take what you only believe could be confirmation

This ending could have been very fast and hurried and unexpected as well. It could be that this person chose you over thrill and enjoyment in their life, OR they were over committed to two things at once, both of which needed their time and passion. They were struggling to create a balance is what I see. This person has so much to say to you its insane, they think and reflect on this a lot. But I see this person isn't ready to take the fight as such, they have so much to say to you, so much apology for not being able to give this what it deserved, yet they are afraid of coming forward and saying what they have to, They keep on thinking and wishing, I wish I could, not realizing they are literally sleeping on their chance to do so. What a weird person lol

However what I see is this person making a choice, and a plan, to do something. I wonder how fast is that going to be because i see so much pain and doubt in this person, they don't really feel that you would take this. But I still see them contemplating and making some plan. Could be you have gone through similar some cycles with this person. You could have been hurt yet compassionate to this person it seems yet very uproar and mad and visibly upset about it (understandable tbh) In such readings I am adamant to say that they love you, because this absolutely isnt love imo, Its called guilt tripping and gaslighting but your situation might be diff. However if anyone loves you, they would not be so wishy washy and "oh I wish..." about it, They would just not want to lose you, even the second they knew or even had a realization. These kinds people irk me tbh. They do miss you a lot (more like seems the fun with you but whatever) though and do hope for a second chance. They somehow even find you even more attractive/addictive and dont seem to be over of what has went down yet.

Channeled messages: I want you you are incredible do you know that what do you want from me i can help it i feel so guilty lets go on an adventure have I been here before? feels like deja vu we need to talk

[bumbleblurr]

hot take I don't think idw comics prowl is copaganda like are they not clearly demonstrating that guy is a shithead at every chance they get .

[rawliverandgoronspice]

Actually I think we should all collectively work harder at misunderstanding TLoZ canon and simping for Ganondorf and I'm not even kidding.

[sparring-spirals]

This might sound like it’s straying into RPF territory, but thoughts on each of the players’ (including Matt’s dm style) playing style (ie: how they play their characters.)

Hmmm. Tbh, I don't think I'm knowledgable enough about actual game mechanics/playstyles to provide super meaningful analysis on that front, but I do like characters and how they're created and played and grown. So. I'll cheat a little and talk a little about that?

(To avoid straying into weird territory I'll be trying to keep this as speculation-free as possible and focus on some particular character elements I've noticed and appreciate, but it'll include cast appreciation too.)

this got SO FUCKING LONG because I was having a good time. sorry. enjoy?

Ive spoken about this before, but Marisha's characters often have arcs that are deeply self contained and circle around personal growth and triumph and healing in ways I really enjoy. Her characters do tend to be very powerful, which- nice- but more often than not the biggest factor for growth- and her characters always have phenomenal growth arcs- is about overcoming internal stumbling blocks and demons, improving as a person and settling into it. Which. Spells exciting things for Laudna. 👀 I also love how much she physically embodies each of her characters. Delightful to see. Post-nap Beau, mildly delirious Beau, Laudna drunk-and-woozy-from-blood-loss, Laudna hiding behind her hair.... fantastic.

Liam's characters are so fucking full of love, and passion, in ways that wrap around and shape them, both good and bad. And like yes, fantastic and distinct explorations of grief, yes, thoughtful and nuanced portrayals of loss and trauma and upheaval. But- honestly, looking at Caleb, looking at Vax, looking at Orym. They're all just Lads With Feels, yknow? Good lads who love people so damn much, and feel things so strongly and fully, for better or for worse. He also embodies his characters so fully that you feel that fullness to your core. Method acting.

Taliesin's characters are firstly, aesthetic as hell. He also does something really neat with characters and pride and inflexible or presumptous worldviews. And alongside that, each of his characters can beautifully demonstrate points about people who speak well and charismatically and reassuringly and how that really correlates so little about how much they should be trusted. (Cad, this includes you.) There's pages and pages of analysis that can be done about each of his characters and themes about authority, and pride, and self assurance, and judgements and assumptions that feels very intentional, but his characters also feel very human with it all. There are layers there. And the characters manage to not feel overburdened with it! Masterful. And Taliesin is consistent as hell with it, even if he's not always In character like Liam might be.

Sam. Fucking Sam Riegel. Bard at heart. His characters always, always, have layers, without fail, and Sam is enough of a jokester that you can't take everything done in character as hard evidence of analysis- but you can definitely take more of it than you think. And if there's a specific detail that is slightly funny but seems almost too specific, you can rest assured it will probably rip your heart out later. (Veth hates water! haha! -ah shit-) There's a nice level of thoughtfulness there with just enough actual jokes thrown in to keep you off balance, which makes some of the analysis hell but damn if they aren't good characters.

Ashley is- first of all, extremely funny, okay, there's an element of Chaos™ that I think was present in both Yasha and Pike to an extent that is truly blossoming in Fearne, it is delightful. Her characters tend to be funny in the way of deeply absurd, unexpected statements said in completely genuine tones. And it's hilarious. It also lends itself very well to the other aspect of her characters I enjoy, which has to do with them feeling deeply genuine. It is not precisely about honesty- especially with Fearne- it is about characters who say things with a sort of earnestness, who present themselves with a levek of honesty they can't quite help, even when they're lying. Its good for a comedic streak- ("Your cat is? Vibrating?" "I lied :)") and then just as easily be completely heartwrenching. (Yasha, wrecked and angry and guilty. Fearne, quietly telling Dorian, "I'll never forget you."). She plays both sides of it so well.

I'll admit I'm less familiar with Grog, but Fjord was, admittedly, one of my favorite characters from C2 and has one of my favorite charscter arcs and growth of all time. Travis is so fucking good at blending humor and heart in his characters. Like, comedic timing and sense off the charts, instinctive slapstick, which I think can distract from how consistently thoughtful his characters can be? I dunno. But also, I'm aware some people thought Fjord was boring at the start of C2 and then I think about how fucking hilarious he was through the latter half of it- falling on his face, making a fool of himself, using healing spells for 1-2 hitpoints. And go absolutely feral thinking about how that was a reflection of his growth as a character, about how his confidence in himself and being comfortable being him and not an imitation of someone else meant he felt more confident in making a fool about himself, and how he balanced that humor so well with Fjord growing into leadership and comfort with his role as a voice of reason and- oops this became Fjord meta.

Travis has really good comedic timing but also can spin that on a dime for the most heartfelt, gentle, thoughtful conversations and it is unfair how good he is at it. We're even seeing it with Chetney already. Incredible.

and. Look. I'm sure anyone following me is unsurprised to know that I have. An extreme love for Laura Bailey characters and how they're constructed. And part of this is definitely verging on like, personal preference- I have a specific weakness for characters who are trying so fucking hard to keep it together and be Good and Kind and charming, and who might be doing it VERY convincingly but are also, in one form or another, white knuckling it and On The Edge. Characters that Smile With Teeth (but are also genuinely Trying Their Best). I DUNNO.

But I think it's a testament to Laura truly thinking things through with her characters and how they would feel and react and also fuck things up, and then 100% committing to them. Strong traits as both strengths and flaws. Vex's charm distilled to an arrow point. Jester's happiness being intentional and powerful and terrifying. Imogen being anxious and empathetic and also ruthless under pressure. Her characters are always impressive and flawed in ways that make so much sense, that line up with each other and fall into place and she commits to them fully. They'll say something or do something bad and you'll be like: OOF but also OF COURSE and like. LIKE. isn't that great.

And as a bonus, we don't get to see Matt as a player often and I think NPC building has a level of worldbuilding integrated that can't be ignired. But whenever I see him as a PC he is often-

1- having such a good time, love that for him.

2- Clearly someone so well associated with the rules and uses all of that knowledge and mastery for tomfoolery or specific purposes.

3- making such Lads™. Good bois.

im mostly thinking about Dariax, actually. Dariax was so good, and so complex while also having no more than 3 thoughts at a time. i miss u dariax. ilu.

Matt's characters are a delight, is what I'm saying.

.....

okay this got unreasonably long i think it can probably be boiled down to I Love Complex Characters Who Act Consistently With Some Level Of Characterization and everyone in the cast works so hard to ensure their characters feel fully realized and act consistently and in ways that make sense. And I love characters who act consistently. my bread and butter. and they're all good at different aspects of it but. 👌

[valiumvenus]

In the name of my friends, I am asking for help:

"Please SIGN and SHARE this petition against censorship at the University of Vienna! Give us back our lectures on Palestine!" 🇵🇸🕊️

TLDR: The University of Vienna is canceling lectures about Palestine, and disinviting scholars who have a pro-Palestinian stance; please sign & share the petition to show people everywhere care. The students' demands are listed in the petition. Anyone can sign.

Censorship surrounding topics of Palestine is nothing new - but in the last few months there has been an alarming increase in censorship, where artists have their exhibitions shut down, universities are setting up barriers to knowledge about Palestine, highly unserious articles with very serious accusations about academics are popping up, ... Now two lectures on Palestine were canceled, and another scholar was just uninvited for what he posted on his social media (pro-Palestinian content). A previous protest letter from the academic community was ignored by the University, and a recent sit-in there was met with an unnecessarily high number of police who intimidated the small group of protesters. That is the only reaction anti-Zionist protests yield. -> more info in the petition link

Why/How does the University of Vienna do this? Basically, any public criticism of the Israeli government is misconstrued as antisemitism. Then, the University disinvites the academics in question and cancels lectures, or forces lecturers to "adjust" their content. Scholars are being muzzled. The University doesn't want its students to learn about various perspectives on Palestine. Mind you, this is a public institution we're talking about.

The petition is intended to show the University that people disapprove of these practices. The argument of "safety" is brought up all the time, but at the same time, the University gladly erects barriers between their students and the valuable knowledge that would foster critical thinking and understanding. Palestinians are directly affected by this deadly apathy, and Muslim and Jewish people everywhere suffer from heightened antisemitism and islamophobia fueled by misinformation and myths. And at the end of the day, censorship is nothing but bad academic practice. It is an attempt to shape the minds of students by making information harder to access and to exclude scholars who talk about/are from Palestine. It's discrimination against Palestinians and it's shameless instrumentalization of Jewish trauma.

Anybody who is concerned can sign. Please share widely with any and all communities! The petition should go international! Every signature counts.

Say NO to all barriers to knowledge. 🇵🇸🕊️

[porcelaintoybox23]

One of the darkest aspects of atsv is how Gwen was groomed. When Jess and Miguel took her in, I got "vibes," so to speak. The trailers obviously didn't help, but those painted Miguel in a bad light, unlike Jess.

Gwen, a 15-16 year old, goes with these two in the heat of a tense moment. I don't think anyone had ill intentions, but that doesn't negate the results.

I was shocked when we learned that Gwen hadn't gone home in months. Jess and Miguel become her whole world and take on the roles of her parental figures. In this time, she has become emotionally dependent on them and their approval. Gwen is scared to disappoint them. She's threatened with being returned to her dimension with no support, a place where last anyone saw, her father was trying to arrest her for murder.

Jess uses Gwen's admiration and dependence to manipulate her. She knows Gwen fears letting her down. She goes from being smiley and supportive to blunt and cold.

Gwen is scared. Whether they intended to or not, Miguel and Jess essentially groomed and emotionally abused her. The second she justifiably makes a mistake or just acts like a normal teen who lacks interpersonal relationships, they send her home.

At any point did they try to help Gwen reconcile with her dad? What did they tell her so she'd be fine with her father dying?

I know the dictionary definition is more of a nsfw nature, but I do believe it can occur in just a manipulative manner. They took in a vulnerable child, manipulated her, and threw her out.

Her whole arc reads like a kid disowned for coming out.

Note: I'm a black woman. It's not my job to make you guys feel comfortable with a clearly uncomfortable topic. Complain to the studio who wrote the film. I no longer argue with people who assume the worst of my posts or misinterpret what I painstakingly try to clarify. I don't care. It's my post, and I shall delete and block whoever I want. I'm not the government.

Like it or not, Jess and Miguel, grown adults, take a child with them. They are responsible for her. That is how that works. POC aren't free from criticism. POC can be evil to white women. This is a fictional movie, bitch to the studio who made them the obvious bad guys.

Thank you 😊

[cryptotheism]

Hey, CT, I've been following you for a while and I really admire your dedication as a scholar, but I was wondering about your practice of "occult red herring traps" as you put it a few posts ago.

I understand that you're trying to get people to think critically, even skeptically, about their sources of information—which is particularly important given the subject material—but since people are treating you like an expert, don't you think you have an obligation to give them correct information? If you aren't a practicing occultist purposefully trying to be obscurantist, but are writing about the topic for the elucidation of others, what is the point of inserting falsehoods into your work?

No disrespect intended, just curious about your intentions.

Few reasons:

Im not going to claim any higher educational goals here. I do this because I think it's fun to fuck with people sometimes. That said, I have rules:

I'll never lie about anything serious. When I do spread deliberate red herrings, it's things like "Goku was present in Andalusian Spain." Or St. Christopher drove to the council of Nicea in a Dodge Charger." Things that if believed would only cause minor embarrassment.

When I do lie, I always make sure it can be easily dispelled with a simple Google search or a basic fact check. Or even just thinking about it critically for two seconds. Like hold on, I don't think Goku was in Andalusian Spain because he is a cartoon character.

I generally consider it in the spirit of Occultism. I find it fun, but its also a fun way to encourage people to not take everything I say as gospel. I don't want to be seen as "person with all the right answers and correct opinions" my opinions are often dogshit. I want to be seen as "person who can point you towards actual historical sources."

[linktotheheart]

I feel like so many people misunderstand BOTW/TOTK Link especially (Zelda too, but that's another topic entirely)

His lack of expressiveness IS a personality trait. It's a direct result of the pressure on his soldiers to be a perfect soldier, hero, and savior. No, he's not Skyward Sword Link, and never will be, because his story is completely different.

"But [other Link] hugged Zelda when he got her back!" and this Link maintained a respectful distance as his princess's subordinate - but ALSO out of respect for Zelda as a person, because she spent her whole childhood having her agency denied and he wants to let her initiate even something as simple as platonic contact whenever possible. He's being kind!

(And yes, I know that primarily only the "he is a knight and she is a princess" part is directly supported in the actual game, but I'll remind the people making comparisons that the dynamic was COMPLETELY different in their favorite comparison game, Skyward Sword. But also... look at the gentleness with which Link interacts with Zelda, the tenderness that he shows so few other characters - Mipha probably being the closest example. Look at the way he looks to her first to see what to do in every scene they're in together, unless he's protecting her from an immediate threat to her life. Notice how outside of that, Zelda IS usually the one to initiate any physical contact)

I also personally hate it when people describe quiet, not very expressive people as "lacking personality" because... my partner IRL is like that. If she expressed herself at all around most people, it's in a very flat, reserved way. I've seen how it hurts her that people treat her like she doesn't have a personality, like she isn't even a full person - and I know that's real life and Zelda is fiction, but come on, do you think all the people that aren't highly expressive and extroverted don't hear that about very popular characters and internalize it?

Being reserved is a personality trait. Being cautious and not impulsive is a personality trait. In fact, I'd even say just because you as an expressive, extroverted person see Link as a blank slate to project your own personality onto, doesn't mean he actually is or was even intended that way.

(I also think this is a very US-centric point of view, honestly. There's plenty of cultures where even BOTW Link would be considered at least close to average - Finnish culture specifically comes to mind, even if he's still slightly exaggerated in that regard as, y'know, a character.)

Idk, this is as much a silly little vent post as anything, it's not that serious, etc, but whatever

(and don't get me started on "oh Zelda got no agency in TOTK and she learned the powers she was struggling overnight". No, it's called a time skip, and just because she learned her powers before the 13th hour this time - which yeah, she would get them easier this time with a mentor who could actually use the same powers, and having already learned to use her light powers - doesn't mean it just "happened overnight". And... she didn't express agency? She was actively influencing the entire flow of the timeline, changing the actions of her ancestors by convincing her ancestors to act, learning to control her powers and fighting Ganondorf, and finally expressing the ultimate form of autonomy in choosing to sacrifice herself to save the world. Some of the criticisms of TOTK didn't even seem to play the same game. Just because a heroine isn't a pop feminist badass who *gasp* wears pants and easily and perfectly kicks every villain's ass, doesn't mean she "has no agency" and is being sidelined. Like, a princess engaging in courtly politics is neither powerless nor "doing nothing")

[nekropsii]

Gentle reminder that Homestuck is in fact intended for people who are 18 or older — particularly the grungy little forum-dwelling 20-somethings Hussie was largely associated with on the MSPAForums — and was made in 2009. The adult and offensive content is a natural extension of this. The offensive parts of the writing — such as the racism — are not excused by the time period and where it was made and who it was made for, but it is explained by it.

Another gentle reminder that every time Hussie depicted predatory/abusive dynamics or pedophilic age gaps in Homestuck, he was depicting them as bad and disgusting things, including when his avatar (who is not fully representative of himself and is, in fact, a character) was creeping on Vriska. You are supposed to be uncomfortable about it. That is the intention. Same goes for when incest was touched upon — it is consistently portrayed as bad and disgusting. You are supposed to be uncomfortable about it. That is the intention.

Younger people are technically “allowed” to like it in the sense that while it is intended for mature audiences, it is not inherently pornographic, and was not and still isn’t age gated. Just understand the content wasn’t exactly made with it being read by 15 year olds in mind. Also understand that there is a lot of nuance to things all of the time, and Hussie didn’t shy away from taboo topics on the basis of having expected all of his audience to be in their 20s in 2009 and know him personally.

There’s some legitimately bad stuff in Homestuck that is worth criticism — such as the racism — but Hussie touching on abuse, or making jokes about how incest/pedophilia are fucking gross is not really one of them. He did not condone that. He just wrote about it being deplorable, and mentioned it a lot because… Well, it was 2009, and a big part of Homestuck is “bad things happening to kids.”

[genericpuff]

Ive read a few of your LO esaays (all of which are really well written!) But I was wondering something.

Many people talk about how Rachel loves the story Lolita, and has talked about it before, but nobody has ever shown screenshots. I was wondering if you had any or knew where to find any. This is just being curious, not doubting your statements

Ah so I actually responded to a comment just like this a while back on reddit with all the receipts (it was particularly someone who was claiming it was all "made up" because like you, they couldn't seem to get any proof of it, which is totally valid) so I just had to go and dig those back up haha

DISCLAIMER: I want to make it clear that a lot of people tend to run amok with these suspicious pieces of evidence towards Rachel either "thinking Lolita was a romance" or being a pedophile. I want to make it clear that I do not think any of this is proof towards either of these claims. I do not think that she blatantly thinks Lolita is a romance, or that she was trying to perpetuate pedophilia in any sort of way, just that she may have wanted to have her cake and eat it too by acknowledging the age gap but embracing it anyways as she does throughout LO. I think, at best, she's a terrible writer who's still using the things she liked when she was a teenager / young adult as inspiration without actually going back and re-analyzing those things with an updated 38-year-old viewpoint (as she does this with a lot of things, not just Lolita). Claiming that the following receipts is 'proof' of Rachel being some kind of sex pest / pedophile is at best not constructive at all for the real discussions to be had concerning LO's subtext, and at worst, a serious claim that can ruin someone's life if thrown around without cause. Let's please be responsible and level-headed in how we approach this topic.

Old MySpace + DeviantArt bios with her interests listed:

Her old art site where she labels herself as a "lolita vamp" artist:

Her intro post from a lolita-themed forum she ran:

She does express that it's not THAT kind of lolita, which I'd like to think she never intended in the first place, but it's really telling that LO still manages to be that kind of lolita in a lot of ways, to the point that there are many scenes in LO that feel a little too similar to scenes from the 1990's Jeremy Irons adaptation, such as seen here.

(the above image are song lyrics written about the book, Lolita)

Also despite Rachel saying it wasn't "that kind" of lolita, she still made it clear back in the 2017/2018 run of the comic on Tumblr that Hades is, indeed, a "grown ass man", and that Persephone is a teenager.

And of course the proof is in the pudding, the comic itself is well aware of Persephone's age:

(either Rachel has been using Apollo as a mouthpiece for criticism for years, or she seriously thought this was supposed to make Hades look like the better partner for Persephone because "look at how mean Apollo is" when... he's deadass spitting facts LOL)

As I mentioned in my disclaimer, I don't think Rachel herself is in any way a sex pest or a pedo or whatever you might jump to assuming. Rachel has a history of being inspired by things she watched when she was a child without ever actually going back to re-analyze it or ask herself if what she read was credible or real-

(this isn't the only proof there is of her behaving this way, there's also the fact that she was clearly a huge Disney fan as a child but never asked herself why those movies worked as a piece of written media).

So again, I think at best she's just sort of dated herself by not going to the effort of researching the things she was into when she was a child, she tends to just throw things in that she likes haphazardly without a single thought as to why they worked in the first place or whether or not they would work in LO. Though this is a bit of a saltier opinion, I think when it comes to the Lolita thing specifically, I have a feeling she never actually read the book, just sorta did that thing where she watched the movie adaptation from the 90's and assumed that counted as reading the book and so she put it down as her favorite book / Nabokov as her favorite writer.

But none of that speculation really makes much difference because the evidence is 20+ years old. What does matter is that despite her tastes being what they were 20+ years ago, they're still present in LO and it's not even subtle, there are so many times Rachel has outright said both within the comic and outside of it that Hades is a "grown ass man" and Persephone is a literal teenager. Her fans, of course, will still go to the effort of explaining it on her behalf ("they're gods! ageing isn't a thing for them!" "how old you are doesn't matter when you can be immortal!" "well she probably doesn't mean LITERALLY 19, just like, the god version of it..."), but you can't deny what's coming from the horse's mouth - Hades and Persephone are in a relationship based on an intentionally massive age gap. Regardless of what completely speculative parallels we can draw between H x P and that of Lolita's Humbert Humbert and Dolores using 20 year old MySpace bios as evidence, Hades and Persephone having a massive and intentional age gap is undeniable fact made canon by the creator herself, no matter how you try and slice it.

[qqueenofhades]

Hello! This is kind of a weird ask, I'm sorry to bother you, but seeing as you're a very intelligent studied historian that I deeply respect, I was hoping you could offer some advice? Or like, things i could read? Lately, i feel like my critical thinking skills are emaciated and its scaring the shit out of me. I feel very slow and like I'm constantly missing important info in relation to news/history/social activism stuff. Thats so vague, sorry, but like any tips on how i can do better?

Aha, thank you. There was recently a good critical-thinking infograph on my dash, so obviously I thought I remembered who reblogged it and checked their blog, it wasn't them, thought it was someone else, checked their blog, it also wasn't them, and now I can't find it to link to. Alas. But I will try to sum up its main points and add a few of my own. I'm glad you're taking the initiative to work on this for yourself, and I will add that while it can seem difficult and overwhelming to sort through the mass of information, especially often-false, deliberately misleading, or otherwise bad information, there are a few tips to help you make some headway, and it's a skill that like any other skill, gets easier with practice. So yes.

The first and most general rule of thumb I would advise is the same thing that IT/computer people tell you about scam emails. If something is written in a way that induces urgency, panic, the feeling that you need to do something RIGHT NOW, or other guilt-tripping or anxiety-inducing language, it is -- to say the least -- questionable. This goes double if it's from anonymous unsourced accounts on social media, is topically or thematically related to a major crisis, or anything else. The intent is to create a panic response in you that overrides your critical faculties, your desire to do some basic Googling or double-checking or independent verification of its claims, and makes you think that you have to SHARE IT WITH EVERYONE NOW or you are personally and morally a bad person. Unfortunately, the world is complicated, issues and responses are complicated, and anyone insisting that there is Only One Solution and it's conveniently the one they're peddling should not be trusted. We used to laugh at parents and grandparents for naively forwarding or responding to obviously scam emails, but now young people are doing the exact same thing by blasting people with completely sourceless social media tweets, clips, and other manipulative BS that is intended to appeal to an emotional gut rather than an intellectual response. When you panic or feel negative emotions (anger, fear, grief, etc) you're more likely to act on something or share questionable information without thinking.

Likewise, you do have basic Internet literacy tools at your disposal. You can just throw a few keywords into Google or Wikipedia and see what comes up. Is any major news organization reporting on this? Is it obviously verifiable as a fake (see the disaster pictures of sharks swimming on highways that get shared after every hurricane)? Can you right-click, perform a reverse image search, and see if this is, for example, a picture from an unrelated war ten years ago instead of an up-to-date image of the current conflict? Especially with the ongoing Israel/Palestine imbroglio, we have people sharing propaganda (particularly Hamas propaganda) BY THE BUCKETLOAD and masquerading it as legitimate news organizations (tip: Quds News Network is literally the Hamas channel). This includes other scuzzy dirtbag-left websites like Grayzone and The Intercept, which often have implicit or explicit links to Russian-funded disinformation campaigns and other demoralizing or disrupting fake news that is deliberately designed to turn young left-leaning Westerners against the Democrats and other liberal political parties, which enables the electoral victory of the fascist far-right and feeds Putin's geopolitical and military aims. Likewise, half of our problems would be solved if tankies weren't so eager to gulp down and propagate anything "anti-Western" and thus amplify the Russian disinformation machine in a way even the Russians themselves sometimes struggle to do, but yeah. That relates to both Russia/Ukraine and Israel/Palestine.

Basically: TikTok, Twitter/X, Tumblr itself, and other platforms are absolutely RIFE with misinformation, and this is due partly to ownership (the Chinese government and Elon Fucking Musk have literally no goddamn reason whatsoever to build an unbiased algorithm, and have been repeatedly proven to be boosting bullshit that supports their particular worldviews) and partly due to the way in which the young Western left has paralyzed itself into hypocritical moral absolutes and pseudo-revolutionary ideology (which is only against the West itself and doesn't think that the rest of the world has agency to act or think for itself outside the West's influence, They Are Very Smart and Anti-Colonialist!) A lot of "information" in left-leaning social media spaces is therefore tainted by this perspective and often relies on flat-out, brazen, easily disprovable lies (like the popular Twitter account insisting that Biden could literally just overturn the Supreme Court if he really wanted to). Not all misinformation is that easy to spot, but with a severe lack of political, historical, civic, or social education (since it's become so polarized and school districts generally steer away from it or teach the watered-down version for fear of being attacked by Moms for Liberty or similar), it is quickly and easily passed along by people wanting trite and simplistic solutions for complex problems or who think the extent of social justice is posting the Right Opinions on social media.

As I said above, everything in the world is complicated and has multiple factors, different influences, possible solutions, involved actors, and external and internal causes. For the most part, if you're encountering anything that insists there's only one shiningly righteous answer (which conveniently is the one All Good and Moral People support!) and the other side is utterly and even demonically in the wrong, that is something that immediately needs a closer look and healthy skepticism. How was this situation created? Who has an interest in either maintaining the status quo, discouraging any change, or insisting that there's only one way to engage with/think about this issue? Who is being harmed and who is being helped by this rhetoric, including and especially when you yourself are encouraged to immediately spread it without criticism or cross-checking? Does it rely on obvious lies, ideological misinformation, or something designed to make you feel the aforementioned negative emotions? Is it independently corroborated? Where is it sourced from? When you put the author's name into Google, what comes up?

Also, I think it's important to add that as a result, it's simply not possible to distill complicated information into a few bite-sized and easily digestible social media chunks. If something is difficult to understand, that means you probably need to spend more time reading about it and encountering diverse perspectives, and that is research and work that has to take place primarily not on social media. You can ask for help and resources (such as you're doing right now, which I think is great!), but you can't use it as your chief or only source of information. You can and should obviously be aware of the limitations and biases of traditional media, but often that has turned into the conspiracy-theory "they never report on what's REALLY GOING ON, the only information you can trust is random anonymous social media accounts managed by God knows who." Traditional media, for better or worse, does have certain evidentiary standards, photographing, sourcing, and verifying requirements, and other ways to confirm that what they're writing about actually has some correspondence with reality. Yes, you need to be skeptical, but you can also trust that some of the initial legwork of verification has been done for you, and you can then move to more nuanced review, such as wording, presentation of perspective, who they're interviewing, any journalistic assumptions, any organizational shortcomings, etc.

Once again: there is a shit-ton of stuff out there, it is hard to instinctively know or understand how to engage with it, and it's okay if you don't automatically "get" everything you read. That's where the principle of actually taking the time to be informed comes in, and why you have to firmly divorce yourself from the notion that being socially aware or informed means just instantly posting or sharing on social media about the crisis of the week, especially if you didn't know anything about it beforehand and are just relying on the Leftist Groupthink to tell you how you should be reacting. Because things are complicated and dangerous, they take more effort to unpick than just instantly sharing a meme or random Twitter video or whatever. If you do in fact want to talk about these things constructively, and not just because you feel like you're peer-pressured into doing so and performing the Correct Opinions, then you will in fact need to spend non-social-media time and effort in learning about them.

If you're at a university, there are often subject catalogues, reference librarians, and other built-in tools that are there for you to use and which you SHOULD use (that's your tuition money, after all). That can help you identify trustworthy information sources and research best practices, and as you do that more often, it will help you have more of a feel for things when you encounter them in the wild. It's not easy at first, but once you get the hang of it, it becomes more so, and will make you more confident in your own judgments, beliefs, and values. That way when you encounter something that you KNOW is wrong, you won't be automatically pressured to share it just to fit in, because you will be able to tell yourself what the problems are.

Good luck!

[soaringthoughts]

:: A MISFORTUNE'S VESSEL. ( chapter 1 )

lowercase intended. CONTENT WARNING: depressing topics, implied deaths. PAIRINGS: aqua hoshino x reader A/N: MINOR changes on the plot in order to squeeze the reader in and make the plot make sense, such as: reader is the daughter of Miyako and Ichigo Saitou. this is the only change I made in the plot so it doesn’t affect the main stream of Oshi No Ko that much. POV is second person pov. reader is AFAB. english is not my first language so expect some grammar errors. usage of [name] instead of Y/N. reader is addressed by name instead of pronouns.

story starts with the reader already knowing Aqua from his past life (Goro Amamiya) and will only focus on that for the meanwhile, next chapter will be Aqua.

my first fanfic! open for criticisms. word count: 3,079 words

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a disappointment. that's what you're always labeled as. you've already reached the age range wherein you're finally capable of getting hired in a job, but of course, you can't get yourself one. didn't finish college either, makes you wonder how vast your parents' patience must be to let you keep living under their roof despite not returning the favor of their great care by accomplishing something. and just as if the world was opposing you, you got caught in a car crash on your way home from a job interview.

perhaps you are binded by fate to just stare at the solid concrete ceiling of your hospital room.

………….

“my [name]..” the guttural whines of worry from your mother will live rent-free on your head. it was the hint of concern and worry in your parents' words that's evident in their voice, but it was only the glint of dismay in their half-lidded eyes that you saw.

you absolutely see no point in living now. you've always been a disappointment for your family the whole time, and now, you even made things worse by practically forcing them to charge for your hospital fees.

dealing with both fatal, incapacitating injuries, and heart failure was a rough circumstance for you, and it only doubles the fees that your parents need to charge.

your mind was all stirred from all these heavy thoughts as the guilt continued to consume you, perhaps the world got stuck in an endless time loop to maintain your suffering on purpose.

“I won't be surprised if your body stays frozen like that for hours.” it's almost as if a shrieking noise snapped you out from your thoughts the moment you heard your doctor spoke. you remained silent however, not the slightest bit of word slipping out of your mouth. this doctor was getting on your nerves lately. you were never a fan of small talks nor a conversation itself. you always thought that drowning in your thoughts while getting lost in your own little world as your eyes are solely focused on the scenery across the window was better.

“Do I have something to say?” your remark was thrown off in a sarcastic manner as your gaze was still fixated on the window, which only raised a hint of concern on his face further. but his expression remained neutral.

“You've been staring at the window for an hour. It wont hurt to initiate a conversation from time to time.” he let out a ragged exhale. was he also getting tired of you? of course. he's been guarding you in your room for hours after all, you still don't know why but perhaps it's to keep you company and to have someone present in case there's something wrong with your injury.

“…” it was the pause of silence that's somehow clear and tranquil within the walls of the room. he was right. you are worn out by the boredom, too, so maybe, just maybe, you'll get some source of entertainment if you finally speak. “Doc, have you ever felt like the whole world is against you?” maybe his eyebrows raised in amusement. maybe it was because he found you weird. but it's either of the latter.

“..The world has to be unfair to everyone in some aspects. It's not just us who experience it.” you aren't sure whether it was the answer you were looking for, but his response intrigued you. he isn't so bad for an 'old' doctor after all, you thought. "And if you please, just call me Goro." he followed up after.

“Wouldn't that be unprofessional?” you immediately detached your eyes off of the window to dart it at his for a moment, and the first thing that you saw was the startled and surprised expression written all over his face. “Are you serious all the time?” he shot back in a questioning manner. although it might sound a little offending, to you at the least, you only let out a slight laugh at his remark. “I thought we're supposed to be professional with doctors. It would sound off to refer to you as a mere friend.” you asked back again with that slight smile now evident on your face.

“Well, that's for other doctors, I suppose.” Goro responded with a shrug. you hummed at the answer, maybe he prefers to be casual unlike the others. that would indeed open up a path for you two to get along. "I'm-" just as you were about to say your name in return, he interrupted you. “[Name]. I already know from your documents, so no bother.” I can't tell whether he is bragging about that or.. you thought to yourself as you felt your eye slightly twitch at his straightforwardness.

“So, [Name]. What do you think of the entertainment industry?”

“Why'd you ask?”

“Just a question, really. I have this patient of mine that's obsessed with a certain idol.”

“Ai Hoshino?” Goro's eyebrows raised at your sudden response. it's almost as if he wasn't expecting it, but deep down, he knows that Ai is way too popular to not be known by everyone.

“Don't tell me you're obsessed with her too?”

“Not obsessed. I just admire her.”

“As for the entertainment industry, I know for sure that the way they operate behind the scenes is a mess. I'm not even an idol nor an actor myself but I can tell that the impression they display in public is fake.” Goro seemed to be fascinated by your words, his face obviously plastered with a look of both amusement and interest as he stared at you in silence for a brief moment.

“How can you te-” you could've sworn that the time was ticking slow. but before you realized it, the sun was about to hide behind the arms of the horizon as the rays of the sunlight lit through the window. Goro was interrupted mid sentence as well when he noticed this. “Ah, too bad I have to go.” he simply said as he got up from his seat and dusted off his coat.

"Already?" you frowned a little at this, considering that you're finally intrigued to talk to someone after for what's been like years.

"It's just the end of my shift. I'll be present tomorrow." there was a slight smile curved up on his lips before leaving the room, and boy, you felt at ease hearing those words.

………………………………………………..

you didn't know whether to feel happy or upset now that you only have a day left before you'll get discharged from the hospital. you didn't want to burden your parents anymore longer, but why are you upset now that you're finally free once again? there's this something in you that makes you want to stay more. or maybe it's just your attachment to Goro? you don't know.

just as when you are once again drowning in your thoughts, you got snapped back to reality by someone's voice. it's him.

"What are you doing all the way up here at this hour?" you immediately recognized his voice. you wanted to hear it more often─ but too bad, you just can't stay here just because you want to.

the gentle breeze of the countryside air softly swayed your hair locks back and forth. the rooftop of the hospital was dim and was only illuminated by the ray of the moonlight, hovering over the figure of the both of you as Goro kept staring at you from a distance.

and of course, you just felt like being sarcastic for one more remark, "Is it so bad to chill on the hospital's rooftop before my discharge?" his chuckle was completely audible despite the soaring roars of the wind and the continuous noises of the vehicles over the roads.

sure, it's loud here on the rooftop caused by those sounds, but that doesn't matter since it's his voice that your ears can only hear well.

"I suppose it would carve a memorial to make this our usual spot before your discharge."

"I'm not yet dead, you know." you surely are going to miss his jokes once you get out.

"I know, I know." the rooftop was immediately radiating with a positive aura as you both laughed. "Well? What are you gonna do now that you're back to your usual life?" he closed the stairway door and made his way to you, leaning over the railings as he stared into nothingness.

"…" there was a brief silence once again as the wind continued to leap through the garments of your clothing and hair. your chest heaved as you exhaled, also walking over the railing as you leaned on it beside him. "I don't even know. Not like I had a plan anyway." just the thought of getting discharged and living back to your normal life irks you. the same old, repetitive, dull, and 'being' a disappointment days will return. It will return now that you're out of the hospital just right when you already found someone who understands you well. you expected this from the start. good experiences come and go, but you still can't gather the wits to accept it.

"You know, I can't seem to do anything right even if I try hard. I always surge into actions with preparation and always come back empty-handed. It must be nice to live a life wherein you are blessed with skills and luck."

Goro knew that you had some depth in your words. you've told him about your struggle in finding a job and the results of your entrance exams in college before, so he immediately knew how to respond to you.

"A caterpillar must undergo a dissatisfying process before eventually blooming into a beautiful butterfly." his eyes were glistening with sincerity as he muttered those words out. although he was still staring into nothingness and eventually into the starry night skies, you just fixated your gaze on him.

"You can't be saying that."

"I can be saying that."

"But the caterpillar's progress will go to waste when a human steps on it."

"That caterpillar will remain wounded but still manage to live."

"It can still die after being stepped on."

"And it can still live after being stepped on."

"Why are we talking about caterpillars?"

"Because you're the caterpillar we're pertaining to." you quickly lost it and let out a laugh at Goro's remark this time. you knew he was referring to you, but why were you two talking about caterpillars instead? "Seriously, the caterpillar will die."

"Then that caterpillar will get reincarnated." his response this time was tacky, you can't help but laugh at it. of course his words were obviously laced with sarcasm, but you couldn’t help but see a fragment of hope in his words.

and for the first time in your life, fate resided within you. because guess who got reincarnated as the child of the president of an entertainment production.

“She is beautiful.” those were the first words you heard the moment you regained your consciousness and maintained the track of the world. and a pair of rosewood eyes were the first thing you laid your eyes on.

your mother was welcoming. your father, on the other hand, “Let’s just hope this won’t hinder our work.” you didn’t really have anything to say to him. perhaps he was just worn out from his work. he is the president of his company after all.

“Sorry about that, [Name]. Your father’s just immersed in his work. I’ll be the one who will take care of you by then. Although I’ll have to take you with me to the home of our company’s prized star to also keep watch for two of her children.”

not only is your father drowning in a stack of work to do, your mother is also forced to be in charge of taking care of children. it seems like she doesn’t like the duty of being a babysitter, you can tell it by her face and the way her chest heaved when she sighed. so you swore to yourself that you will behave well and remind the 2 other kids to do so as well.

strangely, you still remember how you lived your past life. your family, your memories, the time of your death, the place of your death. all of it is still fresh on your mind.

the world really does hate you, from your beginning and even until your end. you can’t accept the fact that the last memorable thing you had before your death was that conversation you had with Goro on the hospital’s rooftop. he told you that he’s in charge of delivering the babies of Ai the day before that, and that he is also supposed to guard you afterwards. but you never saw him come.

it was as if fate was playing you in its hands that they decided to give you a heart attack at that exact time. there were no doctors present as the rest of them were dealing with the other patients, so you were only treated by the inexperienced nurses.

you expected Goro to come, but you remembered that he is dealing with the giving birth of Ai.

“Then that caterpillar will get reincarnated.” it’s silly how those were the last words that flashed on your mind before your heart gave up. perhaps that interaction you had with him on the rooftop really was something special after all.

“Are you ready to meet them, [Name]?” it hasn’t been long before Miyako arrived with you at the home of the prized star she referred to. you could’ve sworn you’ve been blessed by the deities when it was none other than Ai Hoshino. this new life you have is definitely better than the former one you had.

your eyes met with hers. and of course, you got lost in it. “Is that [Name]? She’s adorable!” well that was a side of her that you expected. she really is carefree even when behind the screen.

“This is my daughter Ruby, and my son over there on the couch is Aqua. You guys will frequently spend more time here while I’m away so I hope you three will be the bestest of friends!” you didn’t appreciate how Ai shoved Ruby in front of you for the introduction, but liked her welcoming energy either way.

this was really a new experience for you. you didn’t expect to be close with your idol in your new life at all. but you’re not complaining either. this is your new life now, you’ve decided to just enjoy your life as a baby once again despite the big contrast between your true mental age.

“Come on. It’s time for work.”

“I’m out~”

the room was immediately confined with tranquility the moment your father, Ichigo, and Ai, headed out for work. while your mother, Miyako, just laid face-down on the sofa and groaned in distress.

‘I probably shouldn’t bother her.’ you can tell how frustrating it could be to take care of three children, so you just let Miyako be and sat on the clean mattress on the floor just in front of the TV.

Ai’s son, named Aqua, was also sitting from a distance on the mattress with you. there was an awkward silence between the two of you as expected. you didn’t feel like you’ll get along with his sister either, since you’ve been told that she’s younger.

that silence remained for what felt like an eternity before broken by the sounds of the TV when Aqua turned it on without a word. and oh boy, your eyes lit up with particles of stars when you saw Ai on the screen. you both watched in silence, admiring the appeal Ai has when performing. eventually, you two were distracted with a familiar whine from the crib.

“N station has already started! Why didn’t you wake me up?!” you have to admit that you didn’t like Ruby at first, but the interests that you two share just now made you want to get to know her more.

she quickly hopped off the crib and sat next to you, all the while squealing and rambling about how remarkable her mom is.

unlike you, Aqua just gave her a look with that neutral expression of his. he seemed too composed for his age, you thought. but you shrugged that thought off.

“Well, I suppose the three of us would be acquaintances considering that we all look up to the same person.” you simply said before fixating your focus back on the TV.

“Do you normally talk like that?” Aqua’s question caught you off guard. ‘shoot. were my words formal? not like it will blow me away anyway, right?’ living on a child’s body completely slipped out of your mind. you just prayed to yourself internally that this boy wouldn’t think of something bizarre.

“Huh? Talk like what?” your attempt at trying to dodge the question was poor. especially the awkward clearing of your throat and the laugh you did that added up to it.

the confusion and skepticism was evident on Aqua’s face, you can’t tell whether he is judging you or just trying to process that hell of a formal usage of words you did. either way, he just stared at you in disbelief for a couple of moments before shrugging it off.

“Looking forward to getting along with you, then.” of course, you were also surprised by his response. but held your tongue back. there’s no way this boy is also a reincarnation of someone simply because of how he talks or acts.

maybe he just learnt how to speak properly at such a young age.

[ilikekidsshows]

The Totally Spies-ification of Adrien

Okay, it's been long enough that I can actually discuss how Adrien's slavery is depicted in the show without anger-fueled exaggerations and hyperbole. I want to discuss how Miraculous treats Adrien's slavery very flippantly and how it is, like everything in this show post-retool, all about Marinette. The show has a lot of stuff that hints that the writers intend for Adrien to be viewed a very certain way. I believe the writers made Adrien a slave for Marinette’s benefit and I will explain how I came to this conclusion.

I’ve joked before about how Astruc has worked on Totally Spies, “one of the kinkiest cartoons ever made”. I’d like to tackle this idea and how it relates to Miraculous more seriously. I’d like to tackle the topic of titillation and how it relates to how this show approaches slavery with such flippancy. My claim is that Adrien being a slave is not meant to be horrifying, which is why the story doesn't treat it as such; it's meant to be titillating.

I usually don't use Read Mores, since they can lead to broken links later, but this is really long. Strap in, folks.

Titillation for the context of this analysis means “content with the intention to excite romantically or sexually”, basically it’s about “kinky” stuff. The purpose of talking about sexuality in relation to Miraculous is not to paint the writers as some kind of fiends, but to present the fact that many teenagers are curious about romance and sex and will think about sex unprompted. This means titillating content in cartoons doesn’t even need to be related to sex to be titillating. And Astruc has a history of putting titillating stuff in his work, with Totally Spies being a very notable example of how you can include non-sexual titillating content in a kids’ show.

It all comes down to expected audience reactions. Adrien is meant to be sexy. I don’t mean that in a “the writers think this is sexy” way, but a “the writers think the projected audience of straight teenage girls will think this is sexy” way. He gets put into bondage three times in ‘Copycat’, ‘Anti-Bug’ and ‘Reverser’ and all three times the camera seems to like to show him off. He is meant to be an object of attraction for the audience. The people criticizing this show have been pointing out how Ladybug's costume accentuates her butt for years, but this is not something that occurs with just Ladybug. When he isn't posing for the viewers, Cat Noir gets whacked around by Akuma’s a lot, but a lot of the time it ends with him in a prone position that is also titillating, in ‘Pixelator’ it goes as far as having his butt jut out. However, the idea that Cat Noir is the one who gets hit when an Akuma needs to show off how dangerous they are is also part of the power dynamic where Marinette or Ladybug gets to show off, so it’s not purely for titillation, which is why other examples, like ‘Stormy Weather’ are more comedic.

It’s likely that Adrien-as-Adrien doesn’t get to participate in the show’s slapstick much, since that aspect of the character is presented as the perfect beauty, a role usually reserved for female characters who only ever get a little bit flustered or banged up to make sure they keep looking attractive. Marinette screams "waack" and runs face first into a wall in the same episode where the silliest thing Adrien gets to do is sneeze (Mr Pigeon). Adrien is meant to be attractive, sexy, titillating, in different ways in his different forms. As Cat Noir he is more active and more sexy, as Adrien he’s more passive and pretty, much like how female love interests can fall into these categories. It’s the Betty and Veronica dichotomy; in the Archie franchise Betty and Veronica are shown as the wholesome and sexy romance options and the reason the writers go out of their way not to resolve the love triangle is to keep the appeal of these both options going. People’s tastes differ, so it would alienate some audiences to pick one over the other. With Miraculous they solved the problem by having the two romance options be the different identities of a single character.

Frankly, as of the season five finale, Adrien is approaching “sexy lamp” levels of replicating sexist ways of writing a female character but just changing the gender. What else do you call him lying on the floor in despair while his love interest gets his superpowers and uses them to beat up his abusive father, while somehow being perfectly fine and happily kissing Marinette later after said father is dead and gone? Adrien’s trauma is debilitating when it serves the writers’ purposes, but stops being a problem as soon as they need him to smile and look pretty. The main reason Adrien’s trauma is so inconsistent is so that he can act as Marinette’s trophy so that Marinette has somebody to kiss in the final shot. If Adrien was despairing about not being good enough for her, or grossly crying about being an orphan, Marinette wouldn’t have a fun time kissing him. And if Marinette isn’t having fun, the members of the audience projecting onto her aren’t having fun either.

Speaking of how Adrien’s depiction relates to Marinette, here comes the controversial part of this post: while Marinette is not depicted as a literal slave owner in-story, narratively, she is very much treated as Adrien's owner from a meta perspective. We, the viewers, are meant to see Adrien as Marinette's property, and the twist of Adrien being a part of a slave race in a dynamic where Marinette holds all the cards is meant to be a good thing. We have been primed to view everything about Adrien to actually be about Marinette, because Marinette is the center of the universe of Miraculous and Adrien belongs to her because he’s the main character’s love interest. Adrien being revealed to be a slave that Marinette could control but then chooses to “merely” manipulate is meant to be glorifying to Marinette and titillating to the viewer. I will elaborate.

Marinette has been incredibly possessive of Adrien since day one and she is only occasionally depicted as being in the wrong about this, when she goes too far by the show’s standards. She stalks Lila and Adrien whenever she sees them hanging out together and she’s unreasonably jealous of Kagami. The only time she is depicted as being in the wrong is not when she's sniffing Adrien's pillow after breaking into his room, but when she actually bullies Kagami out of jealousy, and even that is depicted as more of an unfortunate misunderstanding than Marinette actively doing something wrong. Marinette is more sympathetic towards Kagami when she finds out she and Adrien aren't as close as she thought, that Kagami’s pursuit of Adrien is more hopeless than hers. Basically, Marinette is only in the wrong because Kagami isn't a threat, not because she was doing anything wrong by bullying her to defend her “territory”.

This gets flipped near the end of the season, though. When Adrien and Kagami do start dating, it's depicted as this big tragedy even more so than Master Fu losing his memories. Master Fu going missing is an afterthought, while Adrien choosing someone else over Marinette is the big “darkest hour” moment of the season three mid-finale, the cliffhanger moment of her crying in Luka’s arms while all hope is lost. Marinette isn’t directly crying about this, she is crying from “all the pressure”, but Marinette breaking down happens immediately after a scene of Kagami leaning in to kiss Adrien that has a somber dirge playing in the background. The first part of the finale has everything going wrong at the end; Master Fu is missing, Chloé gets willingly Akumatized, Marinette breaks down, and Kagami leans in to kiss Adrien. These scenes being put closely together is telling us that these are all bad things to happen.

Adrien ending up with Marinette is a given, but it's also taken for granted. Every girl with an interest in Adrien is depicted as an antagonist, while Marinette can do whatever she wants in pursuit of Adrien and will still be morally correct. Chloé and Lila, even Kagami to a degree, are villainized for their attraction to Adrien in a way Nathaniel, Luka or Zoé are not with their attraction to Marinette. Chloé and Lila are full-blown villains while Luka and Zoé are some of the most selfless members of the cast. Kagami is aggressive and socially awkward in a way that is used to justify Marinette's initial distrust and dislike of her (in ‘Ikari Gozen’ Alya voices her pity towards Marinette for having to spend time with her) while Nathaniel is just the pitiful bullied loner who’s still a liked member of the class friend group. Girls who want Adrien are bad for trespassing on Marinette’s territory and trying to “steal” something that “belongs” to Marinette.

The writers thinking Adrien belongs to Marinette is also not just subtext. Later in season five, when Marinette and Adrien finally start dating, Marinette even outright states that Adrien “kinda does a little” belong to her when she’s scared that Zoé has a crush on him. The fumbling of the line means that the writers are aware of how toxic it is to consider your partner your property, but they want to include that sentiment anyway, because that’s how they view the situation. Marinette’s boyfriend is her property and other people can’t even look at her property. ‘Emotion’ continues on this increased possessiveness by having the entire Marinette plot happen because she can’t conceive Adrien keeping things from her, because he isn’t allowed privacy from her while Marinette lying to Adrien (or Cat Noir) is a show staple.

This same attitude of Adrien not being allowed to have romantic options outside of Marinette has also been in the fandom for years. Every time a new female character was introduced, there was a worry that she’d “try to steal Adrien from Marinette”. Marinette and Adrien are endgame, the writers know this and the fandom knows this. The characters don't know this, but it doesn't matter because Adrien was already seen as Marinette's (future) boyfriend even back in season one when he barely knew her. And this attitude the writers and audience have is extended to the characters more and more as the show goes on, as almost every single character becomes an Adrinette shipper in support of Marinette in season five, while no one thinks to ask Adrien what he thinks about this. Only once, in ‘Desperada’ did Alya suggest that Adrien could make his own choice on who to date, but it was implied the choice should be Marinette specifically (Marinette smiles at this, while Kagami frowns). The cast is lucky the writers have decided Adrien already is Marinette's, or he’d be really uncomfortable.

Season five episode ‘Pretension’ goes as far with this as having Marinette basically ask Gabriel for permission to be with Adrien, convinced that she and Adrien can be together with no problems if she can just get him to approve of her. And then Gabriel tells her he’s promised Adrien to Kagami. You know, like a piece of property women were treated as before women were allowed to live without a man to control them. The finale then ultimately does have Gabriel agree to hand Adrien over to Marinette by dying and leaving her in charge of Adrien. Just because she uses the privilege to do some things for Adrien’s benefit doesn’t make what happened any less of a patriarchal transaction. In fact, the writers wrote it that way on purpose, with the knight and princess parallels they set up between Marinette and Adrien earlier in the show being something they are prominently proud of (the “reverse fairytale” as they put it). Adrien is the princess the dashing hero Marinette gets to earn with her feats of bravery; he’s handed to her like a piece of property and Marinette is too happy with her acquisition to even be outraged on Adrien’s behalf. And Adrien wasn’t even allowed to know about any of this, instead it gets handled solely between Marinette and Gabriel, like his opinion on the matter didn’t even matter. And why would his opinion matter, since he already is ready to promise himself to Marinette, even as the writers deny him the agency to actually make such a promise.

The goal of making it obvious that Adrien is cool with being objectified like this is probably why they make Adrien so obsessed with Marinette in season five, constantly repeating her name to himself and saying stuff like: “I can’t stop thinking about you” in ‘Pretension’. They need to drive it home to the audience exactly how okay Adrien is with everyone forcing him to be with Marinette. After all, you can’t force the willing. As of ‘Confrontation’, Adrien’s official goals for the future are: “I love Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” I guess, from the perspective of the writers, the childhood dream of wanting to be what his parents wanted from ‘Wishmaker’ wasn’t sad because of Adrien’s lack of agency; it was sad because he wasn’t forsaking all of his personal pursuits for Marinette specifically. As far as the writers are concerned, Adrien should only care about Marinette and nothing else.

This same entitlement is also present in Ladybug and Cat Noir's relationship. Every time Cat Noir is upset with Ladybug, like in Frozer, Glaciator, Syren, The New York Special or even Kuro Neko, they never talk about what caused it. This is especially blatant in cases where Ladybug has wronged Cat Noir personally, like Kuro Neko or the NY Special, where she never has to face up to what she did wrong because Cat Noir comes back because she “needs him”.  Cat Noir will always come back to her without her having to do anything because she is the main character and she says she needs him. He exists for her and her needs. He exists for her; it’s just another way he’s hers.

Speaking of how Adrien is treated affects Marinette, even Adrien’s trauma actually belongs to her in the writing.  I pointed out earlier that Adrien’s trauma shows up when the writers need to put him out of commission, but disappears as soon as he needs to be Marinette’s trophy, but it goes further than just inconsistency. The early seasons spend several episodes on how Adrien is being locked up by his father and unable to hang out with his friends and, between him and Marinette, Marinette is the one shown to be more upset and hurt by this. They don’t do this in every episode, as ‘The Bubbler’ actually does a phenomenal job of making Adrien’s upset actually about him, but the big point in ‘Glaciator’ is that Marinette is so upset that she can’t see Adrien that she accidentally leaves Cat Noir on read so he’s upset about that. Adrien is only upset because he didn’t get attention from Marinette, while Adrien’s literal abuse at the hands of his father is only important because it makes Marinette upset. Even Adrien himself gets in on this action in ‘Conformation’ when the writers go as far as having Adrien chastise himself of not being more worthy of Marinette’s love when his dad is once again busy ruining his life. Even Adrien himself makes his abuse about Marinette; him being abused is bad because it’s inconveniencing Marinette and inconveniencing Marinette makes him less worthy of her.

‘Cat Blanc’ is possibly the worst offender of all, though. This episode should be all about how Adrien is abused by Gabriel, culminating with Gabriel turning him into a monster that destroys the world. And yet, what is the episode actually about? It’s about Marinette. The worst thing that could happen to Adrien is about Marinette. Only Marinette gets to remember or even know about the possibility of Cat Noir getting Akumatized and only Marinette is traumatized by it happening. After all that the writers later dare to use this event that didn’t actually happen anymore, that Adrien doesn’t know about, to justify him giving his powers to Marinette, because he’s “scared of getting Akumatized” when something like that has never happened as far as he knows. But the writers had him reason this way anyway, because apparently the culmination of Marinette’s character development in the show means taking Adrien’s power as her own and then failing to win even with that at her disposal.

Another note about ‘The Bubbler’ that has to be pointed out is that it’s also the first example of Marinette being presented as good for Adrien simply because she treats him better than Gabriel. The final scene of Marinette giving Adrien his best birthday present yet and letting him think it comes from Gabriel is done to show how selfless Marinette is by letting Adrien keep thinking good things about his abuser. This idea that Marinette is morally good simply because she’s better than pond scum Gabriel is also present in the season five finale, where Marinette manipulates, gaslights and keeps important information from her abused slave boyfriend. Marinette is presented as being in the right because at least she didn’t literally control him with a magical geas like Gabriel did and gave him the object with which to do so (while notably not telling him what it does). Marinette will do the bare minimum of not taking literal ownership of Adrien and we’re meant to see her as a paragon of goodness for it, while she still has no respect for Adrien’s autonomy and hasn’t had any since the show started.

The way the Sentimonster “reveal” is handled shows this utter lack of respect for Adrien’s autonomy that the writers, and Marinette by extension, have. The reveal is not for Adrien, but for Marinette, just like every other piece of Adrien has been made to be about Marinette. Marinette gets to know and she gets to decide if Adrien gets to know, and she decides “no”. She will manipulate him and lie to him to keep him happy for herself, she will keep important information about him to herself that he might never find out if anything happens to her, because Adrien is hers and no one else’s and she has the right to make that decision because the world revolves around her because the world of Miraculous was created to be her playground. “Adrien” is just a toy on that playground for Marinette to play with as the writers see fit.

Now we’re coming back to Adrien’s role as the sexy, titillating love interest character that I talked about at the start of this essay. If Marinette granting Adrien the bare minimum of freedoms as a slave while manipulating him “for his own good” is meant to be a good thing, why is Adrien even a slave? Well, outside of the writers wanting to add a plot twist that doesn’t come with any messy plot they’d have to write about characters other than Marinette, Adrien being a slave is also meant to be titillating. What really is magical super slavery than very, very off the wall bondage and power play stuff? The idea that Marinette could rob her love interest of his free will with ease but won’t because she cares about him so much is very empowering in two different ways. It gives Marinette all the power in the relationship and it makes her out to be such a good person that even having ultimate power over another person won’t corrupt her. Adding to that, we have Adrien’s people pleaser abuse victim personality, which makes him fawn over the people he loves. If Marinette ever wanted to have control over Adrien, Adrien would give it to her of his own volition, no need for magical super slavery or unbreakable geases.

As I stated earlier, Marinette is meant to be the point of view main character the audience of teen girls projects themselves onto. So, really, Adrien’s slavery and abuse responses are all about that fantasy of having a cute boy you have all the power over but not needing to use it because the boy is so nice and devoted to you anyway. Adrien really is “perfect”, the perfect object of attraction, a being who technically has free will but whose free will you never have to take into account because he’s been designed and trained to value other people’s wants and needs over his own.

Marinette doesn't literally own Adrien within the story, but the writers make it very clear that they think she should. In fact, in all ways except the literal, she already does.

[ginnsbaker]

In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (6/?)

Chapter summary: The relationship between you and Wanda reaches a critical juncture.

Chapter word count: 10,500 words

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader (heavy on this chapter), Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader

Trigger Warnings: mildly dubious consent, alcohol abuse, smut, toxic relationships

Author's note: Yup.

AO3 | Masterlist

Next chapter: Seven

Taglist: @blackluthxr | @esposadejoyhuerta | @secretbackrooms | @justgotlizzied , @casquinhaa | @marvelwomen-simp | @sunsol-22 | @wandanatlov3r | @kyaraderuwez

-

Part VI

Wanda hasn’t heard from you in exactly a week. 

After you dropped off Sparky at her apartment, she attempted to invite you in for a chance to explain herself, but you firmly declined and hastily departed without uttering a single word or even casting a glance in her direction. Somehow, the situation has deteriorated further than where it’s been months ago.

As before, Wanda made numerous attempts to call you and sent lengthy messages, earnestly explaining that she never intended to offend you and expressing profuse apologies. Over time, her messages grew increasingly desperate, pleading with you to at least inform her if you no longer wished to see her again. However, you remained silent, leaving her messages unanswered. Eventually, her calls ceased to connect, and a warning symbol appeared next to her texts, indicating delivery failure.

The implications were clear.

You’ve finally blocked her.

She couldn’t understand why the topic of children affected you to the point that you’re hell-bent on writing her off this time. Your discussions about having them never went beyond who’s carrying (Wanda) and how many (two); it was more of wishful thinking that didn’t make the priority list in the five years you’ve been married. 

It’s why she didn’t think twice to open up about her regrets of not having them, contemplating whether things would have turned out differently–if she would have turned out differently. Maybe, she would have been someone who didn't prioritize her own needs above all else. 

In a roundabout manner, it was her attempt to convey that she felt flawed and tainted.

There’s no excuse for her cheating. But she wanted you to understand anyway, that if she could have prevented it somehow, she’d give everything she has to seize that opportunity.

But as it turned out, it was foolish of her to think like you were still partners in the old days; where she didn’t need to filter out her thoughts because they were safest with you. You were her best friend, after all.  It became challenging for her to strike a balance between being true to herself and expressing her thoughts with unwavering honesty. Ironically, her sincerity and openness only served to push you further away. Clearly, her efforts to do the right thing have only resulted in diminishing her chances of reconciliation.

Over the last few days, Wanda’s thought a lot about showing up at your door, but seeing how unpredictable you’ve become to her, the prospect of being turned away like a beggar frightens her more than anything. And worse, it might just prompt you to move out of Natasha’s apartment and consequently, out of her life for good. 

Wanda couldn’t take that risk. She’s lost you for the third time now; and each of them has hurt more than the previous one. How many more times does she have to lose you in order for her to learn how to keep you? 

-

“This isn’t what I ordered.” 

Wanda blinks at the customer with a vacant expression. He took one sip and arbitrarily dismissed the drink before turning his attention back to the tablet in front of him.

“You ordered an Iced Americano with oat milk, two pumps of sugar free vanilla and one pump of hazelnut syrup.” Wanda recites his order from memory. 

“No water.” he replies in a monotone, rigidly unbothered in his pristine suit.

Wanda swallows dryly; that detail she forgot about.

“My apologies. I’ll be back with your drink in a few.”

Wanda hurries to the coffee bar to make another. In autopilot, she redoes it from scratch, putting together the ingredients with preciseness that could only be perfected by hours of preparing complex orders alike. She mixes them all together, before filling the cup with ice to the brim. However, right before she can serve it, another customer comes up to the counter, with a mild complaint about their paninis. 

It takes less than a minute for Wanda to deal with the problem, and then she returns to the businessman with the replacement drink. Wanda quietly places the cup in front of him. His dull eyes flicker to her as he tentatively takes a small sip. Grimacing, he sets his cup down and then flashes Wanda an impatient look as he says, “How many times do I have to spell it out for you? I said no water.”

Wanda’s nostrils flared. “The hot espresso would melt the ice somehow,” she snaps with a tight smile, and then she openly leers at a specific area below his waist. “Or is your brain too small to understand that’s just basic science?” 

Her voice is loud and sharp enough for two other customers to hear, and for Agatha to come rushing to her side to help with the situation.

The man rises abruptly in a fury, and stretches his spine to look taller than his height.

“You’ll be hearing from me in your Yelp reviews later.” With that, he leaves, making sure to slam the door on his way out. Everyone cringes in chorus at the clashing sound of metal chimes. 

Wanda tacitly apologizes to the customers bothered by the commotion, before cleaning up the table of the one who just left.

When she returns to the kitchen, Agatha studies her in concern.

“You alright, dear?” she whispers to Wanda, depositing a tray of dirty plates and utensils on the sink. Wanda works her jaw as she starts putting those in the dishwasher. 

“Wanda, dear?” Agatha tries again. “Wanda.” she repeats in a hushed tone. That’s when she notices Wanda’s hands gripping the edge of the sink hard, her knuckles turn white. The brunette is shaking, breaths becoming shallower and shallower until she’s gasping uncontrollably. Agatha grabs Wanda by the shoulders and starts to lead her outside from some fresh air.

“N-No,” Wanda protests in between pants. “J-Just wait it out.” Then she falls to the floor and hugs her knees, willing for her panic attack to pass. In the background, she hears the remaining customers leave, murmuring to themselves about the “unpleasant vibe” the cafe is giving off. 

Agatha is on the phone, calling Pietro.

Make it stop. Wanda thinks to herself, trying to gain control of her breathing. Please, make it stop.

An image of you appears in her head. With her eyes closed, she can see every crease, every pore, every detail of your beautiful face. 

“Y/N…” she utters your name like a prayer. 

Gradually, the tremors subside. Her heart rate returns to normal. Wanda feels herself reconnect to her body. The episode is over just in time for Agatha to return with tears in her eyes.

“Oh, thank God, you’re alright!” she cries, before dropping to her knees and enveloping Wanda into a stiff hug. “You scared me! I thought you were having a seizure.”

“Panic attack.” Wanda corrects her evenly. “I get them sometimes. Sorry, I should’ve told you.”

“It’s okay,” Agatha rubs her shoulder soothingly. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

The warm feeling of comfort is what finally breaks Wanda. She covers her face with both of her hands and sobs into them. 

“Oh, Wanda…” Agatha takes her back into her arms and rocks her back and forth. “What’s happening to you?”

When her crying subsides, Wanda tells Agatha everything; from the night she found you again at the club, to the short-lived friendship that ended in a misunderstanding about imaginary kids.

“Honey, don’t you think it’s unhealthy to be in-touch with your ex-wife in the first place?” Agatha says in the best way she wouldn’t sound too critical of Wanda’s predicament. 

Wanda hastily brushes away the lingering tears that continue to trickle down her cheeks.

“I never wanted to be divorced from her. I never wanted us to end.” Wanda swallows back a whimper, feeling another dam within her threatening to burst at any second.

Agatha tries to sympathetically put some sense into her. “But you agreed. You signed those papers–”

“It’s what she wanted. And after what I did, I was in no position to deny her anything.”

“And what were you expecting to happen after you gave her what she wanted?

“I…” Wanda trails off, feeling like the biggest idiot now that she’s realizing how naive she’d really been for the past several weeks. So deluded into thinking that she’ll eventually worm her way back into your heart. “I don’t know.”

Divorcing didn’t feel so permanent when she agreed to it. To her, marriage was a legal binding that came with spousal benefits. Even without it, she already knew she was spending the rest of her life with you. When you divorced her, it didn’t change the fact that she was yours for good. 

Agatha sighs and puts her hand on top of Wanda’s, squeezing it lightly. “You know, we’ve never really talked about our personal lives. Most probably because I was your boss.” she says with a light chuckle. “But have I told you that I never married?”

Wanda shakes her head. “Someone from the gallery mentioned it in passing. I forgot who.” 

“I bet it’s Dottie. That bitch,” Agatha mumbles, glaring at the empty space in front of her. “Anyway… What was I saying?”

“You never married.”

“Ah, yes,” Agatha’s face twists into something wistful and sullen. “But it’s not because it wasn’t for me. To be honest, I love the idea of it. I guess you could say I missed the opportunity to be married.”

Dottie never delved into the reasons why Agatha stayed single all this time; likely because no one had gotten close enough to uncover the complete story.

“What do you mean?” Wanda asks, recognizing that Agatha is sharing this narrative as a diversion, and she feels a sense of gratitude for it. 

“The love of my life wanted to marry me before I was ready. I was, oh god, eighteen? A country girl, fresh out of highschool and ready to show the world what she’s made of.”

Wanda smiles softly as she imagines a young, vivacious Agatha Harkness. 

“He’s a junior police officer in our town and three years my senior,” Agatha tilts her head, the back of her head pressing against the kitchen cabinet. Wanda observes how engrossed she is in her own trip down memory lane. 

“I remember it like it was yesterday. I hadn’t known he’d been planning a proposal at the festival that was going to be held the night of my graduation day,” Agatha recalls. “So, when he got down on one knee with a ring in front of everyone we knew–our friends, our family, and practically the whole town–I had wanted to be struck by lightning and just…fall dead on the spot. That would’ve been the best thing to happen that night.”

Wanda’s brows are knitted together as she asks, “What did you do?”

Agatha starts laughing–a cackling humorless sound–nothing short of unhinged if Wanda hadn’t heard it before. “I ran. I literally ran for my life.” she tells Wanda.

“He was so humiliated by my reaction, he wouldn’t see me at all. I didn’t reach out either. I don’t think we ever broke up. We just stopped talking to each other. And then my career took off and I landed in New York.”

“Did you ever find out what happened to him after?”

Agatha smiles sadly at that, and says, “Oh, yes. I kept tabs on him for years. He got married to someone else the following year, just before I could muster up the courage to fix things.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago. And I’ve moved past it.” Agatha’s eyes are wet when they meet Wanda’s.

"So... you never got married because you've been in love with him all this time?" Wanda asks, curiosity and surprise lingering in her words.

The question sends Agatha into a fit of giggles. “Don’t be silly, Wanda. I’m not a martyr. I fell in love so many times after him.”

Wanda laughs along though self-deprecatingly. “Yeah, I guess that was a stupid take.”

As the silence settles between them, Agatha proceeds, her voice softening. "There was a time when I truly believed I would never move on. I was fixated on him for years. It may sound petty, but I even started curating my social media profiles to project an image of living my best life—well, in a way—just in case he ever stumbled upon them."

She takes a breath before continuing. "But then, one day, I woke up and he didn't consume my thoughts anymore. As my heart let go of him, it also released the notion of marriage."

“Oh,” Wanda looks down at her lap, not really knowing what to make sense of it all. “Those men that came after your ex, you never saw yourself marrying any of them?”

“I already had my one, great love, Wanda. He’s the only boy I was sure I could love forever. Yes, I can fall in love with other people again and again, but I’ve come to realize that it will never measure up to what I felt for him. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

"I do, actually," Wanda responds with unwavering determination. She isn't entirely certain of Agatha's intentions in sharing her story, but it only solidifies Wanda's resolve to win you back. "If I have to go to great lengths to prove myself to Y/N, then I'm prepared to do so. I won't give up without a fight."

"No, no," Agatha shakes her head, a little dismayed that her true message didn't come across as intended. "You're supposed to do the opposite. Let. Him. Go. One day, you're going to wake up, and it will all be nothing but a precious chapter in your life."

“I’m sorry, but I think you’re lying when you say it’s “nothing” to you. The fact that this memory has stayed with you all these years means something.”

“Excuse me?”

“I think you regret that you acted a little too late. Don’t worry, I’m not going to make the same mistake.” Wanda says, getting to her feet. 

"I have no regrets," Agatha asserts, looking up at Wanda with staunch confidence. "And you have no right to judge me for choosing to prioritize myself over catering to his wounded ego."

"I wasn't judging you," Wanda soothes softly. "And I apologize if I'm not hearing what you want me to hear, but Y/N was open to maintaining a connection with me. And as far as I can tell, she isn't involved with anyone else yet, which means I-"

"How certain are you?" Agatha interrupts, a hint of challenge in her voice. "How certain are you that she isn't currently planning her future with someone new?"

"I just am," Wanda responds with full conviction.

“That’s not good enough, Wanda.”

“Well, unless I see her say ‘I fucking do’ to someone else at the altar, then the only option for me is her.”

Agatha drops her chin in defeat. She takes a long, deep breath before pulling herself off the ground so that she can address Wanda on eye-level. 

“I can’t tell you what to do because clearly, your mind’s made up. It seems made up long before you and Y/N got yourselves into this mess.”

Wanda is quiet as she stares at the floor, not denying nor confirming anything.

Agatha's expression softens as she reaches out to lift Wanda's chin gently, making her meet her eyes. "I'm here to support you, my dear. And I genuinely wish you the best."

Wanda struggles to swallow the lump in her throat. "Agatha, I... I apologize for what I said earlier about-"

“I’m not hurt,” Agatha says, but it doesn’t make Wanda feel any less guilty. “Believe me, I’ve said and done worse things when I was in your position.”

Wanda nods solemnly. “Can I ask you a favor though?”

“Sure, honey. What is it?”

“Please don’t tell Pietro. He’s doing well, I think. I don’t want him to worry about me. He’s been here long enough already.”

“You have my word.”

-

Later, after Wanda closes up shop for the day, she goes straight to your place. She loafs around a corner across your building, deliberating if she should come up to your unit and hash it out. The lights are open where your living room would be on the third floor, indicating that you’re home. But just as she makes the decision to see you, a figure of a woman approaches your window to draw the curtains. 

Wanda narrows her eyes, and as she looks closely, instantly recognizing that she’s the same woman from the club. The woman you danced with, seemingly without a care in the world.

Wanda’s step falters, almost losing her balance. She lingers for a bit, gazing up helplessly at your window. As people pass by her motionless figure on the streets, their expressions turn to suspicion, their eyes drawn to the direction that has captured her attention so completely.

She pays them no attention, but when it becomes apparent that this woman wasn’t going to leave anytime soon, she decides to go home.

As Wanda catches the last train to her borough, she tries not to think about what it means. 

Wanda’s never been one to reel in her jealousy; no matter the fact that she no longer has any business of feeling that way in the first place.

-

“Y/N?”

“Maybe it would have stopped me.”

Your mind keeps rewinding the same scene from a week ago. Over and over again, you see green eyes, large and imploring. 

“Y/N.”

Maybe it would have stopped me.

You see Wanda standing by the doorway, terrified and confused. It’s haunting in a way that you kind of wished you didn’t agree to this friendship thing in the first place. 

“Y/N!”

Yelena's voice calling your name startles you, snapping you back to the present moment. You blink and refocus your attention on her. "Sorry, what's up?"

Yelena had arrived unexpectedly an hour ago, holding a bag of Shake Shack takeout and mentioning something about being in the area for an event. It hadn't occurred to you that you hadn't been in contact since the night you shared a kiss at her doorstep. In fairness, she hadn't reached out to you either.

She had set up the food spread of burgers and fries on the table in front of the TV while you searched for a horror movie that neither of you had seen. However, in the midst of dinner, she had to take an important work call, and your thoughts immediately drifted back to the events of the previous week, those green eyes that were dark pools of fear and rejection. 

Yelena bites her lip, finally noticing the disconnect and distance you've been exhibiting.

“Are we ever going to talk about it?” she asks. 

You tilt your head at her curiously. “Talk about what?”

Yelena rubs her temples as her mouth twists in a wry smile. “Oh my god, you can be such an asshole sometimes.” 

As you grab Yelena's hand, a surge of determination courses through you, preventing her from fully retreating. "Lena," you say, using her childhood nickname, a name that holds a special significance between the two of you. 

It's a subtle way of easing the tension that has filled the room. With a mix of relief and vulnerability, Yelena allows herself to be pulled back towards the couch, and she plops back down beside you.

“Look, I know I didn’t call you either after we… after that night. But I’m here now, and I’m ready to figure things out with you.” she says.

You sigh, letting go of her hand. “Frankly, I don’t know where to begin.”

“How about this,” Yelena proposes. “I’ll start with a question and we’ll see where it goes from there.”

“You’ve thought this through.” you say.

“I have.”

“Alright.”

Yelena nods. “Here it goes,” she blows out her cheeks. “Why did you kiss me?”

“I–”

“I don’t need a quick answer,” Yelena interrupts. “I need an honest one.”

The truth is, from the moment it happened until Wanda showed up the following day, it consumed your thoughts entirely. You recall lying awake in bed, unable to shake the desire to experience it again—the softness of Yelena's lips, the subtle differences in her kisses compared to those you had shared before.

You kissed her simply because it was unthinkable to do anything otherwise in that moment.

You give her this answer, and Yelena’s expression remains eerily neutral. Not that you were expecting some kind of reaction, but still–

“So if it had gone beyond a kiss, you’re saying you just wanted to hook up?”

You shake your head at her incredulously. “Not at all!”

“Oh, so you didn’t want to have sex with me at all…”

“I do! I mean–of course I’m attracted to you. But I didn’t kiss you just because I wanted to sleep with someone,” you say, feeling a pressure at the back of your neck. “I kissed you because I just… wanted to kiss you.” you wince at hearing yourself repeat the same thing like a broken record.

Yelena studies you for a moment, before she says, “Does that mean anything?”

“It means being close to you like that brought a decade-old feeling to the surface.” you reply, the volume of your voice considerably fading towards the end of your sentence. 

Yelena plays with the necklace around her neck. “Yeah? What sort of feelings?”

You prop your chin on one hand. All things considered, what you once had with Yelena had every potential to be one of your greatest loves. But you don’t want to mistake love with feelings of nostalgia. 

“You don’t have to answer that one,” Yelena says after a long, heavy moment. “Actually, I’d prefer it if you don’t. I’ve been thinking a lot this past week. About the possibility of us. About you, as a person… about me, as a person. And we’ve… changed. I just didn’t realize it before because you feel like home to me. I think no matter how long or far we’re apart, I’ll always feel that way about you.”

“Me too,” you say with a soft smile. “Your presence in my life has been nothing but comforting. Safe. Like I can always be me, even at my worst.”

“But it’s not enough for me, Y/N. I never thought the window would open again when Nat told me you got married. So, I’ll be damned if I miss my chance again.”

"What are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting that we give this a real chance," she says.

"I... I don't think I'm ready," you hesitate.

Yelena can't help but let a smirk creep onto her lips. "Says the girl who kissed me."

You blush at that, wishing you carried the same courage you had that night at this very moment.

When you fail to respond, Yelena prods you with a question. 

“You’re not ready or you’re scared you’d hurt me?” she asks.

With love, you have always been ready. It has always been a natural and instinctive part of your being. You embraced love in all its complexities; with its joys and sorrows, without fear or reservation. But now, you cower in the shadow of betrayal–as if it was love itself that betrayed you, rather than Wanda.

“I’m scared I’d hurt you,” you choke out, barely able to contain the tremor in your voice. “... And I’m scared to be hurt again.”

Yelena’s heart breaks at your words. “Come here.” she whispers.  

She doesn’t really wait for you to act. Before you know it, Yelena has closed the distance to encircle her arms around your waist and pull you into a tight embrace. You hug her back and bury your face into her neck. It’s only when you feel Yelena’s soaked shirt against your cheek, that you realize you’ve been crying.

You remain intertwined in each other's arms for a while, finding solace in the connection you share, until Yelena’s phone rings and it’s Kate urgently asking her to work with her on a story that’s about to erupt. Understanding the importance of her work, you reluctantly send her off, promising to continue the conversation at a later time.

Just as Yelena is about to leave, she suddenly pauses and grabs the back of your neck, pulling you into a brief yet intense kiss. The passion and longing in that moment leave you breathless. Before parting, she whispers, "Something more for you to think about. Now, we're even."

With those words lingering in the air, she releases your bottom lip with a wet sound and leaves you with a swirl of emotions and thoughts to ponder.

-

That same night, on the rooftop of her apartment building, Wanda sits alone, surrounded by the night sky and the faint smell of tobacco after doubling her dosage of tranquilizers again.

The half-empty pack of cigarettes lies beside her, a testament to her struggle to cope with the turmoil in her heart. She takes a long drag from her cigarette, feeling the burn in her lungs, and exhales a cloud of smoke into the air. Beside the pack of cigarettes, a bottle of tequila rosé stands, its contents diminishing with every sip Wanda takes. 

Wanda's mind drifts back to her college days, remembering how smoking was once a non-negotiable deal-breaker for you. She had forced herself to quit back then, eager to align herself with your preferences and expectations. But now, in this moment of heartache and confusion, she finds herself returning to this old habit, seeking comfort and familiarity in the act of lighting a cigarette.

She recalls the day you moved out of your home in Westview, the day her world began to unravel. It was then that she picked up smoking again, a way to cope with the pain of your absence. And even when she found you again, she attempted to quit for the second time, hoping to present a version of herself again that you would approve of. 

But tonight, with her heart heavy and her emotions overwhelming, Wanda allows herself to surrender to the temptation of smoking. Each inhale brings a momentary respite from her thoughts, even if it comes at the cost of her health and well-being. She remembers how you used to despise the smell of tobacco on her breath, how you would express your concern about the impact it had on her life expectancy.

“As much as eleven minutes per stick.” You had told her so many times, back when you were just friends.

Yet in this moment, Wanda finds solace in the cigarettes, even if it's just for those fleeting minutes that they shorten her life. It's a small act of rebellion, a way to reclaim a fragment of control in the uncertainty of it all. 

“Ever wonder who will die first in our old age?” Wanda asks you one night after a particularly intense make-up sex. Lying in bed, you’re exhausted and seconds away from sleep, while Wanda’s energy hasn’t dissipated at all–rather, it increased even more after two orgasms.

You’ve been married for two years, and fought over a random encounter with Carol; a fellow NYU who was crazy about you for the entirety of your sophomore year. The aforementioned encounter was an annual work meeting with your company’s outside partners, and it led to Carol asking you to catch up over coffee after work.

“I hope it’s me.” you say, snuggling close to Wanda’s side. Tenderly, you place an arm over her exposed abdomen and affectionately squeeze a small fold on her belly.

“Can’t be you. I used to smoke three to four cigarettes a day for years before you made me quit.” Wanda says, laughing a little when you accidentally pinch a ticklish spot. 

“For the record, I didn’t make you quit.” 

“Fine,” Wanda rolls her eyes. “But going back to the topic: I think it’s going to be me.”

You’re quiet for a long period with Wanda thinking you’ve already fallen asleep, when you say, “I just did the math. As far as I know, you were a smoker for seven years, so that would amount to… about 10,200 cigarettes. Or 2.5 months lost.” 

Wanda looks down at you in confusion. “What are you on about?”

Your smile is mysterious as you close your eyes using Wanda’s breast as your pillow. 

“Don’t you dare start smoking now.” Wanda threatens softly, but you hear the fear in her voice anyway.

She feels your smile widen against her damp skin as you repeat, “I hope it’s me.” 

Wanda takes a satisfying puff from her last stick and wonders what’s one more thing for you to hate about her. 

Love is watching someone die. She heard that from a song that seems like a lifetime ago. Yet, she never truly understood its implications, given the typically grim connotations associated with death.

It was not until she revisited that casual conversation with you that she grasped the profound reality: by choosing to spend the rest of her life with you, she had essentially volunteered to bear witness to your eventual passing. Death, an inescapable and inevitable anguish, is a burden one willingly embraces solely out of genuine love for another.

Wanda shuts her eyes, recognizing the pressing need to halt her mind's meandering towards these thoughts, or she’ll never stop grieving. 

The cigarette's smoldering remnants fall from her lips as Wanda crushes it beneath her heel. She turns her attention to the bottle of rosé, swiftly uncapping it and taking a lengthy swig. No, she is not harboring suicidal thoughts. However, she remains unfazed by the potential perils arising from the harmful combination of her vices.

-

It’s almost midnight and you have only just been half-unconscious in your bed, when your phone rings for what feels like forever.

An unknown, overseas number appears on your vibrating screen and you stare at it for while before answering.

“Hello?”

“It’s me,” Natasha’s raspy voice comes through. The line is murky, and you can hear a foreign language being spoken in the background. “Sorry for calling you so late.”

You sit up on your bed, waking up quickly from your shallow sleep. “Where are you calling from?”

“Somewhere in Asia.” 

“Oh, I thought you’re in–”

“No. The mission took me here a day ago. Listen, I only have about five minutes.” Natasha says, not bothering to hide the impatience in her tone. 

You sit up straight on the bed, the last vestiges of sleep leaving your senses. “I’m listening.”

“Yelena and I talked some five minutes ago,” Natasha starts and your heart starts pounding in your ears. You hear a deep sigh coming from the other end–can feel Natasha’s apparent hesitation. But then–

“She didn’t exactly say that she’s still in love with you, but… But that’s how it sounded to me. And then she basically told me to fuck off and not act like an ‘overprotective asshole’–her words not mine.”

“We kissed.” The confession frees itself before you can stop it. 

“She did not disclose that detail.” Natasha says through gritted teeth from what you can hear.

“I should’ve told you but I don’t really know how to reach you, so–”

“I get it. I’m not mad,” Natasha says. “Not saying I’m okay with it either. Actually, I’m being ridiculous because you’re both adults.”

Growing up as an only child, you think it’s endearing how zealous she can be when it comes to looking out for Yelena. It’s something you’ll never dismiss as absurd in any way, especially since both were adopted and shortly abandoned by their parents before Natasha turned thirteen. Apart from you, Yelena is Natasha’s only family. And you hate being the cause of conflict between the two.  

“I just need to know one thing. Do you still love her?” Natasha asks. 

It’s instantly obvious that there’s a right and wrong answer to this. At the same time, you hear someone frantically knock on your door.

“Wait, Nat,” you mutter distractedly, putting on a pair of shorts. “There’s someone at the door.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Natasha mumbles. “Are you avoiding the question?”

“Wait a sec,” you say. The knocking remains persistent and demanding. You yell out, “Who is it?” as you pad towards the door. 

You don’t concern yourself with waiting for an answer. You hurriedly work the locks of the apartment and a certain brunette comes tumbling forwards the moment the door swings open. 

“Wanda?”

She’s wearing a mustard cardigan with liquid stains on the chest. And beneath the cardigan, a pair of pajamas that doesn’t match. From the looks of her, this visit was planned on a whim. 

For a while, you forget that your best friend is still on the call, until you hear Natasha say, “Yes, Wanda. Who else?”

“I… I’ll have to call you back.” you say to Natasha and simultaneously end the call before she can even protest. 

“Is she still here?” Wanda slurs and then lets out a small hiccup that you’d normally find adorable, except that you’re not supposed to feel that way towards her in light of being no longer married. 

And also the fact that there’s nothing adorable about seeing her so plastered to the point of being unable to focus her eyes on anything for longer than a second. 

“Who?” you feign ignorance, clueless as to how Wanda knew Yelena was at your apartment. 

As Wanda tries to approach you, her intoxicated state causes her to stumble, requiring you to swiftly grasp her by the waist to prevent her from falling. She lets out a laugh, but it rings hollow.

“You smell like baby powder.” Wanda comments quietly, her nose bumping the side of your neck. The contact sends a shiver cascading down your spine, awakening sensations you'd prefer to suppress, especially when it concerns Wanda. Feeling how dangerous having Wanda this close is, you gently push at her shoulders. Wanda relents with little resistance and when she looks at you through heavy-lidded eyes, asks the same question, “Is she still here?”

You decide to answer her truthfully this time. “She went home.” 

Wanda nods in understanding and you watch her eyes fall shut, a solitary tear escaping her closed lids.

“Okay,” she whispers solemnly, leaning heavily against the doorframe. “Thank you, that’s… All I… yeah.”

You rub your hands over your face in a feeble attempt to wake yourself up in case you’re dreaming, but before you can reckon what to do next, Wanda’s already turning on her wobbly legs towards the elevator. 

“Wanda, wait–” You reach out to tug at her wrist, and the slight force from it whirls her back around. She faces you with her eyes still closed, but her quivering lashes are brimming with more tears that are so close to spill.

When Wanda does open her eyes, they do spill. And it takes everything in you not to pull her into a hug and just make it all go away.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Wanda sniffs, brushing at her face but it’s no use–it’s like a dam has burst and it’s apparent that the steady stream flowing through her cheeks isn't letting up soon. “I don’t know why–I just wanted to see you. I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. For everything.”

Drunk Wanda never cried, particularly not on account of you. She was, at best, silly and clumsy–tripping over things and waking up to minor injuries she doesn’t remember getting.

Instead of replying, you lead her inside and Wanda dutifully allows herself to be led. She curls into herself on the couch, feet tucked under her. 

“I’ll go get you some water.” you say, padding towards the kitchen. It’s only when you’re sure Wanda can’t hear you that you release the breath you’ve been holding since her arrival.

A clean slate is what you yearn for, what seems rational in your current circumstances. The logical part of your mind insists on starting anew, devoid of bitterness, guilt, and the weight of unanswered questions. Free from the presence of Wanda Maximoff, who acts as the catalyst for all those emotions.

But wanting to want something and actually wanting something are two entirely different things. 

The question lingers.

Do you still love her? At first it’s Natasha’s face you imagine while the question is being asked. And then she morphs into Yelena, looking absolutely beautiful in the moonlight just right before you had kissed her. 

And then, it’s you. Do I still love her?

Would you have kept her at arm’s length if you knew the answer to this?

Just as you find yourself confronting the inevitability of needing an answer, you feel lithe arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you tightly against a body that would never not be familiar to you.

You tense automatically, but can’t find the will to step out of her embrace. It’s an understatement to say that Wanda Maximoff is your weakness. Without the raw and immediate feelings of anger and betrayal, without the sickening rush of having blood on your hands, and without the concrete reminders of how she threw away a decade worth of love and trust for a fling she claimed wasn’t even that important to her, is just–

It’s the kind of weakness that could annihilate all sense and reason; that could forgive the unforgivable, forget the unforgettable, even learn what has been unlearned. 

It’s a weakness that scares you if Wanda wields it to her favor. You’ve appreciated how she was very conscious of giving you as much space as you need for the past few weeks. You noticed how much she held back every time you were together. But right now, at her current state, you don’t know what Wanda would do. And she probably doesn’t know as well how much power she has in her hands despite her susceptibility to seeing you with another woman. 

“Remember when we talked about who’s probably going to die first when we’re old and don't have many years left in us?” you feel more than hear Wanda murmur against your shoulder, hating the way you slacken in her hold. 

In that moment, memories flood your mind, and although you recall vividly, you opt to remain still and silent.

“I hope it’s me,” Wanda whispers, echoing the exact words you had said to her that night. “I don’t ever want to go through the pain of watching you slip away again.”

Your heart crashes to the floor, breaking into a million tiny pieces that would never be a hundred percent whole again. 

“Wands,” you say breathlessly, then as you turn to face her, a cold hand softly cups your cheek and before you know it, she’s kissing you.

A fresh wave of tears sting at Wanda’s eyes because she can’t remember the last time she felt this happy. She’s hot all over and feeling the onset of a migraine from the alcohol and the pills, but they don’t diminish the pleasure of being surrounded by your smell and the feel of your unmoving lips.

As for you, all you could taste was the combination of bad choices she made just a while ago.

Regrettably, the fleeting moment ends sooner than Wanda desired, as you firmly grasp her shoulders with both hands and apply enough force to cause her to stagger momentarily before regaining her balance.

You barely managed to hang on to what’s left of your control. 

“Please, stop,” you don’t mean for it to come out as vulnerable as it sounds, but it’s hard to keep the firmness in your voice when Wanda’s looking at you like that.

“I love you,” Wanda insists so brokenly, she almost delivers it with a whine. 

“I love you, Y/N.” she repeats, as if there’s a threshold for the number of times she has to say it until you believe her–which, still, you don’t.

“It’s just the alcohol and maybe nostalgia talking.” you say. 

“You’re wrong. I love you. I want you.”

It’s pointless and childish to argue with a drunk person, but you can’t help but seethe in Wanda’s unwavering belief in her own lies. 

You take a couple of calculated steps towards her until you’ve effectively backed her against the fridge. 

“You know what I think?” you say menacingly, and it appeases you to see how she slightly trembles beneath your gaze. “I think you just want to fuck me. And it’s driving you crazy because you don’t own me anymore.”

You say it because it’s something you’ve been wondering about for a while now. It’s difficult for you to tell what she’s after–what she gets out of coming after you and wrecking herself like this in the process. You’re aware of Wanda’s tunnel vision when it comes to getting what she wants–specifically ones that don’t come easy–and you’ve seen it firsthand numerous times over the years. She never backs down from a challenge. 

You can’t help but think–is that what this is? A challenge to win back what she had so carelessly tossed aside?

Wanda, on the other hand, is far incapable of digesting your words properly. And yet, it just becomes clear to her how deep your resentment really goes. 

“That’s perhaps the ugliest thing you’ve ever said to me.” she whispers. 

You shake your head, backing away. It’s not quite as biting as you intend it to be when you say, “Oh? Well, it doesn’t compare to the ugliest thing you’ve ever done to me.”

Tense silence stretches out between the two of you, with only the sound of your breaths and your pounding hearts filling the void. By this time, Wanda’s eyes are dry. All that’s left are tear tracks that run through the edges of her jaw. She looks diminished and soulless, and somehow, it’s a worse sight. 

Wanda promptly hisses at the sharp pain that pulses on one side of her head, her fingers coming up to her temples to massage them.

Your shoulders slump, feeling exhausted–physically and mentally–all of a sudden. 

“Wanda–” you start, her well-being taking priority over your pique. “Please just lie down on the couch. I’ll get you some blankets.”

“I think I’m gonna go.” she says, even as she struggles to walk in a straight line.

“You’re drunk and you’re staying here. This is not a negotiation.”

A beat of silence, and then managing a scoff, she says, “Fine.”

Proceeding into Natasha's bedroom, you retrieve a pillow and a thin comforter, uncertain of where she keeps the actual spare bedding for guests. Returning to the living room, you find Wanda lying on her stomach, already in a deep slumber on the couch. Her face is turned away, mouth slightly open, accompanied by gentle snores. Glancing at the kitchen, you notice the untouched glass of water you had prepared for her. There’s no doubt the headache that awaits her when she wakes up. With utmost care, you drape the comforter over her body, ensuring her bare feet are covered, and place the pillow beneath her outstretched arm.

Creating an ambiance of dimness, you switch off all the lights, allowing only the moon's gentle glow and the radiant lights of the ever-awake city to seep through the window. Your gaze lingers on the shadowed outline of your ex-wife's peaceful form for a few fleeting moments before you withdraw to your own bedroom.

With the reassurance of Wanda being safe and sound in such close proximity, you swiftly succumb to a deep, dreamless slumber.

It’s still dark outside when you stir awake, with the sun peeking just outside the horizon. Last night’s sequence of events return to you in deliberate fragments, and you immediately get up and walk over the living room.

No sign of Wanda. 

The blanket you gave her is neatly folded on the armrest together with Natasha’s pillow. Circling the couch, you spot her cardigan discarded on the floor. She must have ridden herself of it, somewhere during the night. 

Bending down to pick up the article of clothing, and you’re unprepared for the smell of Wanda that wafts to your nose.

You’ve said some things. Appaling things. Reflecting on what was said, you're overcome with remorse, realizing the depth of the vilification you subjected her to.

You wouldn’t have loved her for so long if she was horrible enough to harbor such ill intentions.

Maybe the least you could do is put her cardigan in the laundry. Returning it to her in a fresh and clean state would be a small gesture of consideration and apology.

-

A throbbing pain is what woke Wanda about an hour before sunrise. Dread overcame her right when she opened her eyes to the familiar gray of your flat. She can’t recall much of what happened last night; only an inkling that she fucked up every step of the way following the moment she showed up at your door. Deeply ashamed of barging in and probably forcing you to shelter her for a night, Wanda left your building in a hurry. On top of the humiliation, she’s also already late for her cafe’s pre-opening ceremonies. 

It’s an unusually busy Tuesday, and she failed to get Pietro to come over and lend a helping hand. People are growing agitated by the slow service, ignoring the obvious reason that their server is wearing all the hats today–cashier, barista, waitress and maintenance. She’s tending to the cafe alone, except for Sparky–and she can’t really ask a dog to serve food and drinks… or can she?

Though if there’s one thing Wanda Maximoff is, it’s that she’s a professional multitasker.

“Can I follow up on that upside down mocha latte, miss?” 

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I’ll be right with you.”

“This needs more sugar.”

“We have packets of sugar, sugar-replacement, creamer, cinnamon and so much more over that corner.”

“Excuse me, how much for two dozens of matcha peanut butter cookies? And do you take advance orders?”

“That’s, uh, you know what let me check. And yes we do take advance orders and provide catering services.”

“Your dog is licking the spilled coffee on the floor, in case you didn’t know.”

“Oh, shit–Sparky, get away from that!” Wanda temporarily sets her tray down on the table of one of her customers to get a mop.

“Miss, I think you swapped my order with–”

She’s not going to freak out. There’s no way she’s going to freak out. 

Wanda’s on her way to cleaning up the spill when someone jerks the mop out of her grip. 

“I’ll take care of it,” Vision mumbles without looking directly at Wanda. “You should attend to that asshole by the window. I think he’s about to lose it.”

Wanda’s at a loss for words, conflicted between carrying on with her duties and thinking whether or not she should confront her former student about why he’s here. In the end, she really has no choice but to charge through the pending orders and appease the snappy customers or else she risks losing this business. 

Little by little, the demands die down. And then finally, Wanda’s left to deal with Vision who’s seated near the back room, hunched over Sparky while her dog laps at his bony fingers.

“You shouldn’t have come here.” Wanda says as she approaches his table.

Vision jolts upright and she uses the opportunity to take a proper look at him. He looks a great deal better than the last time they saw each other. Wanda’s sincerely happy for him. Still, he cannot be here.

“Thank you for helping earlier, but I believe it’s best if you leave now.” Wanda asserts, her irritation palpable.

“I wasn’t stalking you or anything,” Vision says, unfazed by Wanda’s animosity. “I didn’t know you work here.”

Wanda snorts in amusement. “I don’t simply work here. I own this place.”

Vision looks embarrassed for making the wrong assumption. “Sorry, I… Congratulations, Wanda. This is truly remarkable..”

“Thanks,” she says, and then gestures at the door. “Now could you please…?”

“Can’t I at least order a coffee to-go?” Vision interjects.

“Fair enough,” Wanda concedes. 

“What would you recommend?” he asks, studying the menu with rapt concentration.

“Our bestseller is the Spanish latte.”

“Got anything Keto?”

Wanda casts him a dumbfounded look. But Vision seems serious with his request. The pieces of their affair now seem like a perplexing puzzle; and now she’s exploring the possibility that their affair could have been her having a mental break. Not for the first time she wonders, what the fuck was I thinking?

“Fine. Would you like it hot or cold? Medium or large?” Wanda asks.

“Uh, iced. Large.” he says.

Wanda works the register. “Large iced americano with two shots of heavy cream and a Splenda, coming right up.” 

Vision pays for his drink and thanks her. He waits by the counter as Wanda prepares his coffee.

The bells-like sound of the door chime rings, and Wanda mechanically welcomes the newcomer without looking up.

“Hi,” you say, not noticing Vision at all. It’s Sparky who greets you, excitedly wagging his tail as he sniffs you all over. 

Wanda flinches at the sound of your voice. Her eyes widen in panic, and they dart erratically from you to Vision, and then you again. It’s only when you absorb the horrified look on Wanda’s face that you catch sight of a taller figure from the corner of your eyes.

"You..." The word escapes your lips, unintentionally carrying a tinge of disdain. It's the first time you witness Wanda and Vision in the same room, and a rush of emotions floods over you, resurfacing all the pain you have been attempting to overcome during the past several months.

A flurry of questions swirls within your mind, leaving you feeling overwhelmed. Didn’t Natasha say he doesn’t remember? Or has he been aware of everything all along? And what about Wanda? Was she seeing Vision behind your back throughout this entire time? The uncertainty and confusion gnaw at your thoughts, leaving you grappling for answers.

Your first realization is this: no–you have not forgiven them. And if they’re fucking or trying a relationship with each other, you won’t find it in yourself to be genuinely happy for them.

The second thing is that you’ve been fooled once again; she had you believing that she regretted ever throwing away what you two had to fuck this kid. 

All this time, they were continuing where they left off. You don’t care why it bothers you so much–it just does and it makes you livid.

Vision cowers at the sight of you. It confirms your suspicions–he does remember. You watch him carefully as he mumbles a shaky goodbye to Wanda before rushing towards the exit, not caring at all about the drink he had ordered and already paid for. You don’t try to step out of his way, holding your ground as an act of intimidation. 

Neither you nor Wanda move an inch as Vision takes his leave.

"Y/N," she breathes, desperately attempting to convey that things are not as they may appear. “It’s not what you think.”

You scrunch up Wanda’s cardigan tightly in your hand before tossing it to the floor. “Doesn’t seem that way to me.” you say in a low whisper. 

A few nosy customers observe you with intrigue, murmuring to themselves and pretending to be busy with their phones. It makes your mouth twist in a nearly lunatic grin.

Just before you leave the cafe, you make sure that Wanda’s looking you right in the eye as you say, “I never want to see your lying face ever again.”

The finality of your words, coupled with the piercing intensity of your gaze, knocks the wind out of her.

“Y/N!” Wanda screams out your name desperately, throwing caution to the wind. She quickly unties her apron and dashes outside to run after you. 

Frantically scouring the nearby alleyways, her search proves fruitless as you have already disappeared, leaving her to confront the empty streets alone.

-

Wanda tries several ways to reach you. First, she tries calling you from her number, but she discovers you still have her blocked. Next, she asks Agatha to call you, but you refuse to pick up, until your phone becomes unreachable altogether. Whether it’s the reception or your phone being turned off, it’s clear that any effort to get a hold of you through a call is moot.

Pietro eventually accedes to Wanda’s begging and covers the final two hours of her shift. She has to lie to him with a fake emergency, which was very upsetting for her to do considering how passionately you called her a liar just earlier. She goes straight to your place when she’s free of her responsibilities. Her frustration fuels her actions as she pounds on your door with an intensity, demanding that you give her the opportunity to explain herself.

She keeps at it for some time, until the security comes up to your floor to inform her that you haven’t returned all day.

Out of options, Wanda goes home, defeated. More than her yearning to give you an explanation, she worries about where you could have gone to. She’s not a religious person, but when it comes to your safety, she prays to every god there is for you to be okay. 

It’s half past midnight when Wanda’s awoken by a loud, angry knock at her door. 

Her sleep riddled brain fails to notice how unusual it is for Sparky not to emerge from his dog house and start barking at the unexpected visitor. Her gut tells her it’s you, but just to be safe, she takes Sparky to the guest room, knowing how wary he is of strangers. 

“Who’s there?” Wanda’s voice echoes through the empty hall, voice hoarse from sleep and from yelling your name all over Queens.

There’s no response, and yet, each thud against the door reverberates through the room, filling it with a sense of urgency and unease.

Startled and growing increasingly concerned, Wanda opens the door and–

It’s the smell of beer that welcomes her first. 

Less than twenty-four hours ago, you were both entangled in a similar situation, albeit in reversed roles. The irony of the circumstances isn't lost on Wanda as she observes the unwavering and intense gaze you fix upon her. It's unclear to her how much you've had to drink to be able to find your way to her, but the determination in your eyes speaks volumes.

“Y/N, thank god you’re here. I was so worried–” Wanda tries to say, but the rest of her sentence dies on your lips. With one hand on the slope where her neck meets her shoulder, you push her roughly back inside her apartment, slamming and locking the door behind you with the other. 

You harshly nip at her lower lip before releasing it and growling, “This is what you want right? This is what you’ve been chasing me for all along?” 

Pinning her with a disdainful look, Wanda feels powerless to refute your allegations. Is that how you perceived this to be all along? How lowly your opinion of her has become? When she finds the courage to put the tiniest bit of space between you and her, you pull her flushed against your body to capture her swollen lips into another bruising kiss. The moan that escapes you both this time is irrefutable. Something tells Wanda that whatever she says between now and what’s going to happen next, will just be sucked into the abyss of retribution. And so, she gives in to the storm that is your feverish kisses and your hatred punctuating your every touch.

If she were being honest, she just wants to feel you. Logic and reason be damned. 

“Y/N!” Wanda mewls when you clumsily rub her through the fabric of her nightwear, pinching her clit as soon as you find it.

There’s no trace of tenderness in the way you maneuver Wanda and deposit her to the carpeted floor of her living room. 

There’s nothing gentle in the way you pull down her shorts to her ankles, and lift her shirt just enough to expose her tits. 

There’s only lust, and instinct, and vengeance in the painful entrapment of her hard nipple between your bared teeth. 

And Wanda loves it. 

It’s the punishment she didn’t know she had been craving for since the moment she invited Vision to her bed. If you needed to ruin her, Wanda would let you. She’d gladly take the beating if it means she gets to have even just a tiny fraction of you back–no matter how cruel this fraction of you might be. 

The throbbing in her clit matches the rhythm of her heartbeat, as you continue to tongue her nipple in broad laps. It’s visually lewd enough for her to avert her eyes in embarrassment, but suddenly, you grip her jaw and force her to look at what you’re doing to her, pausing just long enough to say, “Don’t you fucking look away.” before turning your attention to her other nipple and giving it the same treatment. Wanda feels her wetness soak the rug below her ass, and all the blood rushes to her core, already begging for release. 

Wanda gasps when you slide back up abruptly, the rough friction of your shirt rubbing against her tender peaks. She smells the alcohol on your breath before she tastes it, as you pull her in for a dizzying kiss. You’re uncommonly disoriented in your movements, as if you keep deciding and then changing your mind on how you want her. 

Wanda's fingers tentatively approach the button of your jeans, but you swiftly swat them aside. Instead, you seize her hands, lifting them above her head and securing her wrists together.

You rarely make love to her when you’re drunk. You never liked the idea of being unfocused and uncoordinated when you touch her, and you were always afraid you’d accidentally do something that might make her uncomfortable or even hurt her. And now, as your fingers skim through her wetness, not caring if your nails scrape against her sensitive skin, Wanda understands. She understands what you’re capable of when you give up control and let pure instinct take over.

She understands how perfectly capable you are of hurting her–in all aspects. 

Wanda feels she’s wet enough, but it’s still painful when you enter her unceremoniously with two fingers. 

“Y/N, wait–” Wanda gasps as you start to quicken your thrusts before she’s fully adjusted. “S-Slow down.”

But it’s like you can't hear her, seemingly entranced by your own fingers going in and out of your ex-wife’s cunt. The pleasure eventually overtakes the pain, and Wanda doesn’t have anything to hold onto as the heel of your palm grinds against her nub in a slow, circling motion. 

Wanda’s mouth falls open, warm puffs of air brushing so intimately against your chin. “Fuck, yes, right there–”

You pant against Wanda’s sternum, bitterly thinking that she will always be beautiful whether you’re seeing her through the lens of affection or loathing. 

Feeling how close she is, you add another finger into her. The fullness does nothing to abate the tightening in Wanda’s stomach. She writhes uncontrollably beneath you, overwhelmed by the intensity of pleasure, attempting to halt the motion of your fingers by pressing her knees against your lower body. But you keep her where she is, with her legs wide apart. You angle your hand a certain way, so you’re pummeling the spongy area inside of her every time you push inside.

“Kiss me, please,” Wanda whispers shakily against your sweaty forehead. Ignoring her plea, you lick into her ear instead, and then curl your fingers the only way you know how, propelling her over the edge.

“Fuck, fuck! I’m coming!” Wanda cries, her hips bucking uncontrollably. Her trembling arms wrap around your neck as you continue to fuck her through her orgasm. You silently observe Wanda as she regains her breath, her eyes closed and her chest rising and falling in a rhythmic pattern. Her brown hair cascades over the floor, resembling a fallen angel consumed by the depths of the earth.

Wanda's face is stained with tears. However, it is only when she becomes conscious of a droplet landing on her nose that she realizes she is not the one shedding them. Cautiously, as if she’s afraid of what she might see, she opens her eyes and looks up at you.

It’s the only picture of vulnerability in you that she’ll see for the rest of the night, and her own eyes well up, struck by the realization that you can never hurt her the way she’s hurt you. You interpret the look on her face as pity and angrily wipe your eyes with the back of your hand.

“This doesn’t mean anything to me.” you mutter scathingly, even as your lips quiver from the struggle of detaching yourself from your emotions. 

Wanda’s hands reach out to cradle your face. “I know.” she whispers.

“Then why are you agreeing to this?”

“I never stopped being yours,” Wanda whispers with a voice filled with fractures, and it's only your warm and solid presence that keeps her from falling apart. “It’s just how it is.”

You taste the bitterness in your tears, mixed with the metallic tang of blood from your lip from how harshly you’ve been biting down on it. How could she utter those words to you, knowing that someone else had gotten to know her so intimately in this manner? 

Whatever Wanda thought she did, no matter how many times she claimed it didn’t mean anything, however briefly it was–she gave bits of herself to Vision; her body, her mind, her words, her time. Those are the things that you can’t get back. Things you can’t replace. Things you can’t account for. 

Lies after lies, you think bitterly. 

And yet, it only intensifies your desire to claim her one more time. To remind her what she had traded away for illicit pleasure. To ruin her for everyone else.

“Again.” you demand, the mask of indifference returning to replace the face that Wanda loves the most. 

And that seals it–whatever this is. Wanda knows that this can’t end well.

But she couldn’t find it in her heart to care.

"Okay," she mumbles, her voice carrying weariness and resignation.

You wrap her shaking legs around your waist while your arms provide a secure embrace around her back. And then, with her clinging to you like a mindless puppet, you push yourself off the ground and onto your feet, Wanda along with a strength that astonishes both of you.

Wanda buries her head into the crook of your neck, hot tears slipping from her eyes as you carry her to the bedroom.

[leilakisakabiri]

Loved the promises we keep ❤️, could I request for Gavi, where his obsessed with the reader (in a good way) and is very overprotective with her and their friends tease him about it ?

Match Day (Gavi)

Summary: You’ve never gone to any of Gavi’s games despite being his girlfriend. The day you finally decide to go things go far from planned.

Warning(s): This is important so please read. This post has some content related to death and kidnappings involving small children. If that is a sensitive topic for you at all, please do not read further.

A/N: Guys I can never write requests the correct way. I know what this request is supposed to be, but when I start writing I just start coming up with ideas and then the end result is always a little different than I intended. So anon, I know I made it probably a lot different than you expected but I hope you still like it, and thanks for the support! Please send requests guys I have no idea what to write about.

Word Count: 4.1k+

Masterlist

You bit your lip anxiously, brows furrowed, as you read the comments on Gavi’s latest Instagram post. The two of you had been dating for nearly a year now, making your relationship public about three months ago. Since then you had been plagued with comments every day, people feeling the need to criticize everything you did, whether it was the way you posed in a photo, what you wore, or even how much you posted Gavi on your account. Nothing you did seemed to stop the backlash. 

Now, however, the comments had shifted, you were no longer being bombarded daily about mundane things, instead, the comment section of Gavi’s post had been flooded with apologies and I feel so bad for hims. 

Someone pointed out a few days ago that you had never attended a single one of Gavi’s games. Since then, people had gone crazy speculating if the two of you were still together, and if so, then why you weren’t supporting him like any normal girlfriend would do. 

The comments only worsened with Gavi’s latest Instagram post which he shared after winning the UEFA semifinal against Italy. He thanked all his team members, the coaching staff, his family, and you for helping him to achieve his dreams and pushing him to be the best. 

His fans had not taken kindly to that. His entire comment section was filled with people urging him that he could do better or chastising you for not supporting him. 

You felt a pang of guilt as you continued looking through the comments. It’s not that you didn’t want to support him, or that you felt like you were above him in any way. In fact, you were always the first one to tell him how proud you were of him, always in awe of his abilities. You made sure to watch every single game, texting him whenever something especially exciting happened on the pitch to share your thoughts, whether it be something as small as a “the ref is wack” or a “you’re so insane I can’t believe you made that goal, my brain can’t process how you did that so effortlessly.”

Gavi knew that you would support him in anything, and he always made sure to remind you that even though you weren’t there it still meant so much to him that you would take the time out of your day to cheer him on. In the end, you supposed that’s all that really mattered, however, you just couldn’t shake the feeling that you were in the wrong. 

Although he always told you it didn’t matter to him, you knew it was a lie. You had seen how excited he was when you guys first started dating and he had asked you to wear his jersey to his game. You had also seen the disappointed look on his face when you gently declined, explaining to him why you wouldn’t be able to come. 

He understood, and never asked again, but in the back of your mind you knew he wished you were there supporting him like everyone else’s partners did. 

Your anxiety was something you never shared a lot with anyone. None of your friends knew it played such a big part in your life, assuming if you canceled plans, it was because you just didn’t feel like going. And you played into it, becoming branded as the flake in the friend group because you would always back out of plans once a location was set. 

One time you had agreed to go to the beach with your friends, everyone excited for a day of barbecuing and swimming in the salty ocean. That plan had quickly been canceled, however, once it had started downpouring and after much back and forth everyone had decided to play tourist for the day and go visit the Sagrada Familia. After seeing that text, you immediately dropped out of the plans, informing everyone that you had gotten food poisoning even though an hour earlier you were packed and ready for the beach. 

The truth was that you suffered from severe panic attacks, usually triggered by large crowds. 

Growing up your parents had both been in law enforcement, with your mother being a well-established Defense Attorney and your father being a credited Private Investigator. 

They often told stories from their jobs at home, much to your brother’s entertainment, certain cases they were working on that had just closed, or new leads that were quick to transform into cold cases. 

There had been one case however that had stuck with you, haunting you for years, causing you to always make sure that your windows were closed, and your door was locked like a mantra every night before bed. 

The missing person's case involved a young nine-year-old girl, the same age as you were when you had first heard it, who had been spending a beautiful summer day visiting the local fair with her family. She had been prancing around, going from vendor to vendor, seeing what prizes they had. It had only taken a second for someone to lay their eyes on her and attack, grabbing her forcefully before turning and disappearing into the crowd. No one could do anything, everyone searched, but there were too many families, too many young girls that matched her description. It was useless. 

“Poor girl and to think she was taken just because she wanted to get a better look at the pink stuffed bear. I hope the family at least gets closure.” Your mother said, shaking her head sadly. 

Your brother piped up beside you, “Won’t they find her though?”

She gave him a sad smile, “It’s very unlikely hijo, she went missing on Wednesday. Usually, if they’re gone for longer than 24 hours the chances of them coming back are very slim.” 

Your breath had stopped after she uttered those words. Even at nine, the realization had kicked in – you had been at the fair that same day, blissfully licking a popsicle and chatting with your friend, naïve and unaware that probably a hundred feet away from you a young girl was being ripped away from her parents, never to be seen alive again. 

You hadn’t even heard her screams or pleas for help, and you had been right there. 

The thought made you feel sick to your stomach, bile rising in your throat. If it was that easy to kidnap someone and take them away even when they were surrounded by people that knew them, then what was stopping something like that from happening again? Who’s to say you wouldn’t be next? 

Since that day your demeanor had shifted drastically, no longer were you the same bubbly, outgoing kid, who would never shut up and always dragged her parents to new places. You had shrunk into yourself, biting your nails anxiously, eyes darting to look for nearby exits in every new location. 

Your parents had taken notice of your sudden personality shift and tried to help the best they could, never bringing up cases again, even going out of their way to avoid places packed with people because they knew how easily it scared you, but the damage had already been done. 

That fear, as silly as it may seem, carried into your teen years, swelling into full-blown panic attacks that were triggered by large crowds or noisy places.

The first person you had shared your condition with, aside from your family, had been Gavi. 

Your friends relentlessly teased Gavi saying that he was making you even more scarce than you used to be in group hangouts, declaring that he wanted you all to himself. Gavi took all the teasing with a smile and a shoulder shrug, never denying or admitting anything, and you knew he only did it because he loved you. 

It couldn’t have been easy for him to miss hanging out with his friends, whom he rarely got to see in the first place due to his busy schedule, simply to stay back with you so you wouldn’t have to be alone, but he did it every time anyways. If you didn’t go, he didn’t go, simple as that. 

You squeezed your eyes shut; you knew you owed it to him. 

He was always bending backwards, willing to accommodate any of your silly requests just because it made you feel safer. You knew it was time to step out of the box you had locked yourself in for way too long. 

You glanced at the time, you had about thirty minutes until kick-off. You knew you would be late, but if you left within the next fifteen minutes you were confident you could make it before halftime. 

You hyped yourself up. You were going to do this. No going back now. 

You went to turn off the TV that had been droning on in the background, fingers hovering over the power button when an ad caught your eye. 

It was an old speech from Martin Luther King, “Courage is the power of the mind to overcome fear.” He spoke before the screen cut to a page urging individuals to join the troops. 

You let out a loud laugh, not believing what you were seeing, who knew an ad for the national army would get you so emotional? You weren’t someone who was super into manifestation but even you couldn’t deny this felt like a sign.  

Wait a minute why was an ad for the US army playing in Spain?

You decided not to think too hard about it, instead focusing on getting ready. You dug out the jersey Gavi had given you all those months ago and put it on. You rushed to get all your things about to head out of your apartment when you realized one crucial item was missing. 

You didn’t have tickets. 

You let out a groan, trying to think of what to do. You wanted to surprise Gavi so you obviously couldn’t tell him, and it was so close to kick-off that tickets were no longer being sold. 

You fell back onto your couch in defeat. Now what? 

Suddenly you shot up, hands searching for your phone, you sent a quick text to Anna, one of Gavi’s teammate's wife’s asking her if she would be able to help you.

She responded right away telling you to come to the stadium and that she would meet you at the ticketing line. 

Bless her heart. 

You thanked her over and over again as you rushed to the stadium, adrenaline pumping. 

You were in awe once you got off the train, Camp Nou was the biggest thing you had ever seen in your life. It was massive, expanding probably over a hundred feet in the air. You giggled seeing Gavi’s face blown up on one of the billboards. 

You reached the ticketing line, thanking whatever higher power was looking out for you that it was empty. 

“Hi sir, I’m here to meet a friend. She said she’s on her way down.” You informed security once you reached the gate entrance. 

“Ticket?” He asked not even sparing you a glance. 

“Oh sorry – uhm my friend has my ticket, and she’s inside.” 

He finally looked at you, “No ticket. No entry. Now leave.” 

“I understand that, but if you could just give me a minute I’m going to call-“ 

“I’ll tell you one more time, if you don’t have a ticket, you’re not getting in. Leave.” 

You huffed, backing away, pointing at your phone, “I’m just gonna call her, okay?” 

He glared at you, and you gave him an awkward smile, unsure what to do. You went to dial Anna’s number when you heard someone yelling your name. You looked up, seeing Anna waving crazily as she approached the security guard. 

“Let her in, she’s with me.” 

You quickly walked over to them, waving back at her. 

“She doesn’t have a ticket.” The guard replied in a bored tone. 

“That’s fine! She doesn’t need a ticket to go to the box, she’s with me.” Anna argued. 

The guard pointed at your neck, “She doesn’t have a family pass. I can’t let her in.” 

Anna huffed, “Well I do! And I’m saying she fine, she’s one of the player's girlfriends.” She held up her badge showing her VIP status. 

The guard only continued to glare at her, “If she was really a player’s girlfriend, she would have already had a pass. I’m not letting her in.” 

You groaned, annoyed at yourself for not coming sooner. You knew that no one at the stadium aside from the players probably knew who you were, you just hadn’t realized how many problems it would create once you did come. 

“Don’t make me get Antonio.” Anna threatened. 

Finally, the guard seemed to break, his eyes turning wide, “You wouldn’t.” 

She nodded her head slowly, “I totally would.” 

He gave you one more spiteful glare before he stepped aside allowing you to pass. You thanked him quickly, only getting a grunt in response before you greeted Anna. 

“Thank you so much for coming to get me.” You said, hugging her. 

She laughed as she guided you through the stadium, “No worries. I thought Marco might be the one guarding tonight, he takes his job too seriously.” 

You smiled, “Yeah he seemed a little tough.” 

She rolled her eyes, beginning to walk up the steps to the family section, “That’s an understatement. He’s been working here for like ever. Since before Robert even moved here. I remember the first couple of times I came to see a game and he was always interrogating me, even after I showed him my badge! I think he’s just mad, he never got a promotion.” She exclaimed. 

She led you to the seats, introducing you to all the other girls. 

“So, what made you finally decide to come?” She asked once the both of you were settled. 

You looked around the stadium, seeing that the game was nearly through the first half, with only 15 minutes remaining. 

“Change of heart I guess.” You answered vaguely, not wanting to dive too deep into it. 

She nodded her head, “Well anyways I’m sure Gavi will be so excited when he sees you.” 

You chuckled next to her, unsure if that was the reaction he would have. 

Ever since you had opened up to Gavi about your anxiety he had been a huge support system for you, always pulling you aside to make sure you were comfortable with a situation, and he tried to avoid putting you in situations where he felt your anxiety would spike, meaning that he had banned you from all his games and practices. 

You knew he would probably be shocked to see you in the stands, but you hoped he wouldn’t be so worried that he would slip up in the game. 

While he had maintained that football would always be his number one priority everyone could see a shift in his demeanor since he met you. No longer was he staying hours after practice, trying to achieve the perfect curveball, instead he was putting his all during practices then driving to your apartment, annoying you while you did your homework, and passing out on the couch with you in his arms, a random movie playing in the background. 

You were pulled out of your thoughts when you heard the halftime whistle. You saw Robert look up at the stands, presumably searching for Anna, before he made eye contact with you, eyebrows lifting in surprise. 

He waved and walked over to Gavi pointing at the section you were in. 

The midfielder raised his head at his teammates’ shouts, looking up at the stands with a confused expression. 

His family already said they couldn’t come today. 

His eyebrows only furrowed further when he couldn’t pinpoint a difference. Everyone was the same. 

His heart stopped, and he instinctively put his hands over his eyes, blocking out the lights, to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. 

He felt his heart rate increase rapidly and his eyes widened, because there you were, sitting pretty in his jersey, a shy smile on your face as you waved down at him. 

He continued to stare at you, not believing what he was seeing. He felt anxious for you, just thinking about you sitting there surrounded by thousands of people. He quickly broke eye contact rushing into the tunnel. 

You sat back in your seat confused at his actions. Was he not happy to see you? Why did he leave so abruptly? 

You got your answer a moment later when your phone started beeping repeatedly indicating the flood of text messages you were receiving. 

You opened it seeing them all being from Gavi, asking what you were doing here, if you were okay, if you felt safe. 

You smiled at how gentle he was with you, going to respond. You were in the middle of reading a text when he sent another message causing you to lose your place. 

You groaned, secretly finding it adorable how stressed he was for you. You sent him a message letting him know that you were okay, but it took five minutes of back and forth for you to convince him that you weren’t going to have a panic attack in the next twenty seconds. 

In all honesty, you felt fine. Yes, every now and then the thought that you were surrounded by so many people would pop into your head, but it was starting to get easier to ignore, you just had to remind yourself that you were next to people who knew you. Plus, the game itself was an easy distraction, and after the second half started you found yourself getting into the game, yelling at the ref whenever they made a poor decision, and cheering on Barcelona as they made their way up the field.

“Oh fuck off, that should have been a freekick!’ You shouted after Pedri had been slide tackled aggressively, resulting in the boy landing rather awkwardly on his ankle. 

Anna was quick to agree next to you, “C’mon, he didn’t even touch the ball. Don’t be a loser!” 

You giggled at her words, enjoying how she always said whatever came to her mind. She grinned at you shrugging her shoulders as if to say she did nothing wrong. 

You continued watching the game, leaning against the railing as you both chatted about your lives, interrupting each other every couple of minutes to shout something about the game. 

Before you knew it the game was over, Barcelona sealing the win with a goal in the 87th minute, securing their 2-0 lead, scored by none other than Gavi himself. 

You screamed, jumping around as he celebrated, running over to your section with the biggest smile on his face, kissing the crest on his jersey before he pointed up at you, mouthing the nickname he always called you. 

You grinned back at him sending him down a heart which he immediately reciprocated before being tackled by his teammates. 

Once the other team had left the field the celebrations started. All the players started to walk towards the fan section, taking off their jerseys and handing them to fans. 

Anna had pulled you down the stairs with her, letting you know it was time to go see the guys. 

You were ecstatic taking in the buzzing atmosphere around you, cheers of joy filled the air, and the stadium was filled with red and blue confetti. 

Had this been what you had been missing out on the whole time? 

You were so focused on making sure not to lose Anna in front of you that you hadn’t noticed the flock of people behind you, all rushing down the steps hoping to get to the players in time to get a photo or autograph. 

You were about halfway down when you were suddenly shoved from behind causing you to lose your balance. You knew what was going to happen the second your feet left the ground, you shut your eyes, hands reaching out to stop your fall, but it was useless. 

You landed on the ground with a hard thud, body slamming into the concrete steps, head hitting the railing on your way down. 

Everything felt like it was moving in fast motion, all the bodies around you moved at a sickening pace, blurring together as you lay motionless on the ground, vision hazy as you tried desperately to calm the pounding of your heart. 

You pushed yourself into action as soon as you regained some consciousness. You pushed past the legs rushing past you and pulled yourself to the side, where empty seats greeted you. You made a move to sit up but let out an audible gasp, hands going to clutch your left rib, your brain short-circuiting from the throbbing pain. You bit your lip, pleading with yourself to not over hyperventilate and make a scene. 

Gavi, who had been watching you intently, eyes never leaving your figure as you made your way to him, was quick to respond to the situation. 

As soon as he realized you went down, he was running, jumping over the barricade as he shoved past the people trying to grab onto him, thrusting jerseys and papers in his face for him to sign.  

He felt his body pulse with anger, jaw locked, as he ran up the steps. He could faintly hear security yelling at him to come down, but he paid them no mind, only focused on getting to you. 

He kept replaying the moment he saw you fall again and again in his head and each time he thought about it he only grew more livid. How dare someone shove you like that? 

He finally reached you, shouting at people to move out of the way as he shoved through the crowd. 

His eyes were wild and frantic as he grabbed you, helping you to a sitting position. You could see how quickly his chest was rising and falling and you wanted to tell him to breathe but the words failed to come out. 

His hands gently touched your rib, applying pressure to help soothe the pain, “Are you okay baby? I’m so sorry.” 

He looked so scared, and you all wanted to do was reach out and remove the lines of stress you could see forming on his forehead. 

“I’m sorry are you-” The man who pushed you spoke up, realizing what had happened. 

Gavi was quick to cut him off, eyes blazing as he spun around to face the man, “How fucking dare you.” 

The guy held his hands up in surrender, “I didn’t see her!”

Gavi only grew more frustrated, taking a menacing step closer to him, teeth clenched, but you grabbed his hand, shaking your head, your voice weak, “It was an accident. Please don’t.” 

Gavi’s expression softened once he looked at you, watching you clutch your side in pain as you pleaded with him. He sighed, giving the man one last glare before he backed off coming to your aid. 

He pushed your hair out of your face, tilting your face, searching for any bruises. 

He sighed in relief when he didn’t see anything. He went to remove his hand and you felt his breath hitch. 

You looked up at him only to see him already staring at you with a beyond worried expression, face distraught, “Shit Y/n you’re bleeding from your head.” He spoke, showing you the blood coating his hand. 

You felt yourself let out a breathy laugh, “Well at least I didn’t get kidnapped.” 

He narrowed his eyes at you, not appreciating the joke, “I’m serious Y/n. This is bad.” 

You reached out to grab his hand in your own, “I’m going to be fine. See the medics are already here.” You said, moving your gaze to the medical staff who was climbing the bleachers rapidly, eyes fixed on you. 

You felt him squeeze your hand as the medics surrounded the two of you, “You’re never coming to another game again.” He warned. 

You smiled at him, squeezing back, “Think I might have to break that rule."

[contemplatingoutlander]

The north star here is truth. We tell the truth, even when it offends some of the people who pay us for information. [...] The facts involving Trump are crystal clear, and as news people, we cannot pretend otherwise, as unpopular as that might be with a segment of our readers. There aren’t two sides to facts. People who say the earth is flat don’t get space on our platforms. If that offends them, so be it. --Chris Quinn, Editor of cleveland.com/The Plain Dealer

THIS is the kind of attitude that journalists and editors should have regarding reporting on Trump!

Chris Quinn, the editor of cleveland.com/The Plain Dealer wrote this excellent column explaining to his readers why opinion columns on his platforms are so critical of Donald Trump. His response is a credit to his integrity as a journalist/editor, and should be emulated by others in the mainstream media. Below are some excerpts:

A more-than-occasional arrival in the email these days is a question expressed two ways, one with dripping condescension and the other with courtesy: Why don’t our opinion platforms treat Donald Trump and other politicians exactly the same way. Some phrase it differently, asking why we demean the former president’s supporters in describing his behavior as monstrous, insurrectionist and authoritarian. I feel for those who write. They believe in Trump and want their local news source to recognize what they see in him. The angry writers denounce me for ignoring what they call the Biden family crime syndicate and criminality far beyond that of Trump. They quote news sources of no credibility as proof the mainstream media ignores evidence that Biden, not Trump, is the criminal dictator. The courteous writers don’t go down that road. They politely ask how we can discount the passions and beliefs of the many people who believe in Trump. This is a tough column to write, because I don’t want to demean or insult those who write me in good faith. I’ve started it a half dozen times since November but turned to other topics each time because this needle hard to thread. No matter how I present it, I’ll offend some thoughtful, decent people. The north star here is truth. We tell the truth, even when it offends some of the people who pay us for information. The truth is that Donald Trump undermined faith in our elections in his false bid to retain the presidency. He sparked an insurrection intended to overthrow our government and keep himself in power. No president in our history has done worse. This is not subjective. We all saw it. Plenty of leaders today try to convince the masses we did not see what we saw, but our eyes don’t deceive. (If leaders began a yearslong campaign today to convince us that the Baltimore bridge did not collapse Tuesday morning, would you ever believe them?) Trust your eyes. Trump on Jan. 6 launched the most serious threat to our system of government since the Civil War. You know that. You saw it. The facts involving Trump are crystal clear, and as news people, we cannot pretend otherwise, as unpopular as that might be with a segment of our readers. There aren’t two sides to facts. People who say the earth is flat don’t get space on our platforms. If that offends them, so be it. As for those who equate Trump and Joe Biden, that’s false equivalency. Biden has done nothing remotely close to the egregious, anti-American acts of Trump. We can debate the success and mindset of our current president, as we have about most presidents in our lifetimes, but Biden was never a threat to our democracy. Trump is. He is unique among all American presidents for his efforts to keep power at any cost. Personally, I find it hard to understand how Americans who take pride in our system of government support Trump. All those soldiers who died in World War II were fighting against the kind of regime Trump wants to create on our soil. How do they not see it? [emphasis added]

I encourage you to read the entire column. It is worth it.