#throughout this entire saga

[hi-there-buddies]

“The cell saga is bad because the z fighters were idiots the entire time”

that’s the POINT

THE CELL SAGA IS ABOUT ARROGANCE

EVERYONE IS BEING STUPID BECAUSE THEY THINK THEY KNOW WHATS GONNA HAPPEN

THEY THINK THEYRE AHEAD OF THE CURVE

BUT THEY AREN’T

THIS IS LITERALLY SHOWCASED MULTIPLE TIMES THROUGHOUT THE SAGA

IT STARTS WITH TRUNKS AND BUILDS FROM THERE

GOHAN LITERALLY LETS CELL LIVE BECAUSE OF HIS ARROGANCE

THE ONLY REASON CELL IS DEFEATED IS BECAUSE GOKU, GOHAN, AND VEGETA ALL LET GO OF THEIR ARROGANCE AND PRIDE AND FIGHT TOGETHER

GOKU STEPS IN TO HELP GOHAN, WHICH HE DIDNT DO BEFORE BECAUSE HE THOUGHT GOHAN COULD DO IT HIMSELF

VEGETA HELPS GOHAN AND LANDS THE PENULTIMATE BLOW ON CELL, DESPITE WANTING TO BE THE ONE TO END CELL HIMSELF

GOHAN FINALLY FINISHES HIM LIKE HE REFUSED TO DO BEFORE

THEY ALL LET GO OF THEIR ARROGANCE AND FINISH THE JOB

THATS THE THEMATIC POINT OF THE SAGA

RAHHHHHHH🦅🦅

[pianokantzart]

Seething. Rage.

[ghostvibesonly]

JAY GOT HIS MOM TO VOICE ODYSSEUS’S MOM I’M SOBBING

god listening to the underworld hurts so much more after learning that “fun” fact (genuinely it’s so sweet oh my god but i’m using humor to cope)

“i took too long. I ventured too far while you were waiting”

“I’ll always love you”

[thegreatyin]

14 and 15, caeru. i want to hear the forbidden life advice

14 - Quickly, let them give us some life advice!

You should never devote yourself wholly to one person or ideal. All things are best in moderation- admiration is a very different thing from idolization. Don't put anyone or anything on an unreachable pedestal (most of all, yourself). When those lofty expectations inevitably aren't met, you'll only be hurting yourself later. They aren't objectively bad, just... know what you're doing, and know your own limits. Idealism is not mutually exclusive to realism.

-

15 - Now you give them some life advice.

stop volunteering to kill yourself you stupid emo freak

[imwritesometimes]

barry is unique in that it really is one of the funniest shows on tv while also being emotionally devastating and a fascinating tale of deeply flawed human beings

[cursezoroark]

I am so sad this should at least be an hour long. I need a deep dive of each individual anipoke movie

Edit: post cancelled this is the first part of 3 yippee! I’m saved

[berrisweetsiren]

“...Is this what it felt like…when you rose…as a phoenix…?”

With the dust cleared, I had stood in the middle of what was once the two dragons of ice and fire. I was breathless, hands trembling as I put a hand to my wrist- checking what I could to indicate that- truly…I was still alive. Somehow. 

Somehow.

What strength remained in my legs had all but fallen apart, sinking into the ice and snow as my stare cast out along the now empty field. All around me, I heard cheers and uproar, celebration…and yet, I felt…

Nothing. Nothing at all.

“Is…is it over?” My mouth moved before I could even think to ask, still in shock over the events that had just occurred. Everything I worked towards led to all of this…everything I’ve done, and the culmination of my work, and suddenly it was all…over.

“It…It looks so, Commander,” Over the communications line, Taimi spoke up, “But…it’s not completely over, you know. With both Jormag and Primordus gone… We may just have a doomsday crisis on our hands.”

I blinked, the information not registering. Everything felt so…hazy…And oddly warm. Even kneeled in the snow, with my armor shredded and my skin touching the ice…I felt warm. A burning sensation crawled up my arm, and I gave a nervous little laugh.

“Of course…Of course I remember.” I mumbled into the intercom, “It’s never really over, is it Taimi?”

“W…what do you mean? Commander?” I could hear the vague sound of Taimi typing rapidly on her computer, “Is everything alright?”

How honest could I be at this point? If I lied, and said I was fine… Sure, I’d maintain some sense of dignity over my comrades. I’d remain the strong, bold leader that they needed of me… But I just couldn’t keep it together. 

If I gave the truth though…

“I’m…I’m always fine, Taimi.” I eventually mutter, “I’ve…always gotta be fine, you know?”

Another laugh escapes my lips, not even believing my own lie, “Thorns, it’s warm.”

“Warm? Hold on.” 

Taimi’s typing escalated, and she gave a notable little gasp at…whatever it was she found.

“Commander- Elias. I need you to just…calm down. Your readings are very…unstable right now, and by the looks of it all the magic you’ve consumed over our time together could simply erupt out of you at any moment. You have to just…breathe, okay? Did you consume any other magic you didn’t mean to?”

“Taimi, you don’t understand,” I whisper, deflecting the last question with trembling  hands as I held the com close to my face, “You don’t even…know half of it…”

Taimi was silent for a moment, before signing, “Then let us in…please. I don’t know about that meathead of a champion, but all of us at Dragon’s Watch, we-”

“I can’t.” I immediately interjected. Out of all of our friends, it was Taimi I had confided the most in… which, honestly, was…probably shitty of me. I was a good bit older than her, and it wasn’t quite right to confide my burdens onto…onto a teenager.

“Fuck,” I whispered, hunching over myself. In the revelry, I found myself just beating myself up even more. I couldn’t have prevented any of this, could I? I couldn’t have stopped the world from going into an apocalyptic state… and I couldn’t even protect those I cared the most about. 

“Deep breaths, Elias,” Taimi rarely called me by name, “You can get through this…”

“Just like I’ve had to get through everything else, Taimi?!” I exclaimed, frustration beginning to boil over. I felt the magic in my veins begin to burn, and my arms trembled at its strength.

By now, the celebration had dimmed- seemingly due to the scene I was…no doubt making of myself. 

“Look, why don’t we just get in the helicopter and head back to the Eye of North, and discuss things there?” Taimi asked, her voice uncertain as if she was trying to diffuse a ticking time bomb. Hell, in a way I probably was, and I choked through my own laughter.

“Fuck me, Taimi, I’ve had to do all of this in the matter of a year or two! I don’t even recall anymore who I am outside of all of this!” I cried out into the com, not even listening to her as my hand tightened around the device, “I’ve been fighting, and fighting, and causing more and more and more problems for everyone around me! What is the fucking point?! I gave my everything to stop the world from ending, and what has happened in return!? I only lose, more and more of both myself- and everyone I ever knew!”

I hiss through my teeth, pain laced as I felt something drip off my cheek. Reaching an unsteady hand to touch my face, I wince further and see bright red liquid at my fingertips… not blood, not by a long shot… but tears. Liquid fire. It burned my cheeks, causing my head to start to fade into a fuzziness I couldn’t describe. Delirium? I don’t know. The deafening silence was growing so loud in my ears, however, that I could only turn around, standing and trying to get my bearings as I stared the crowd down.

“What?! Is this like some type of show to all of you?! Yes, this is who I really am! This is who your beloved Fatebreaker is! A fucking coward!” I exclaim, fingertips burning as I clenched the handle of my hammer, “Come on now, say it! You all know that I’m like a fucking jinx wherever I go!”

“Commander…” Caithe went to reassure me, and I swatted her hand away.

“No! I don’t want to hear it from you, of all people!” I hiss at her, brushing the bangs out of my face, “I’m so fucking tired of everyone either hating me, or wanting my help! I gave my everything for the safety of this world- I killed the love of my life so she would be free of Mordremoth’s voice, I even fucking DIED trying to protect my own mentor from dying to the hands of a God- and yet all I hear is how I’m a plight and that I’m the reason all of this happens!”

I cackle even more amidst my sobs, sparks lighting in my hands flickering on and off like a broken lighter, “You know…Joko, he was right about me. All I’ve ever done is make things worse, and now look where we are…” My knees trembled, and I fell back into the ice and snow, a sob starting to bubble out of my throat unwillingly. 

“Elias, please, your readings-” Taimi tried to intercept, but my hand gripped…too tight, the device shattering immediately in my palm. I just…felt nothing. And yet everything at the same time. Like every scar was about to burst open, like my mind was about to melt and all I’d be reduced to was just the pain and anguish of it all. I couldn’t even stop it. The buildup of the year and a half of everything being ripped away from me- my sense of self, my loves, my dignity and my sense of moral justice- it all came crashing down at once like a house of cards, curling into myself to try and recontain all that pain. Some part of me knew, though, it was for naught… Though, something caught my eye. A familiar red color, that caused my outburst to pause…for the briefest moments.  I turned, and saw her… Ashe. 

And it almost felt real… Gods, it almost felt real. I just desperately whispered to her. “...Is this what it felt like…when you rose…as a phoenix…?”

“Everybody, clear out, now!” I could faintly hear someone else exclaim, as I felt everything start to burn- burn more and more until there was nothing else.

…And all I could remember, was the scream that tipped off my lips before everything had gone black.

[mylordshesacactus]

So my family has a Gay Pirate Plate.

Stay with me.

We do not know how the hell the Gay Pirate Plate was first acquired. This being a point of contention is actually pretty plot-relevant; the saga of the Gay Pirate Plate began with my grandmother and her sister, who, for some ungodly reason, both BADLY wanted the Gay Pirate Plate and believed it to be rightfully theirs.

I should back up, firstly, to establish: The Gay Pirate Plate is the cheapest, tackiest, ugliest plate in existence.

It is in no way a collector’s item. It is physically impossible for it to complement anyone’s decor, because the colors in it are garish. It’s just a ceramic plate with a gay pirate painted on it, and the painting is, this cannot be emphasized enough, extremely bad.

(How do we know the pirate is gay if he’s just posing on a plate? Listen. Fully 100% to stereotype, but he is. He is gay. There’s an energy. That pirate is a flaming homosexual. That pirate has sex with men and does it frequently. That pirate is fucking gay, all right, he just is.)

Anyway. The point is that this is an extremely cheap and ugly plate with a poorly-executed painting of pirate on it who is like a nine on the Kinsey scale.

My grandmother and her sister fought a blood feud over this plate for their entire lives. It would be on the wall in my grandma’s house, and then her sister would visit, and then it would be gone. She’d visit her sister and the plate would be on the wall and her sister would pretend it had always been there. She would steal it back, hang it up, and, when her sister visited, pretend it had always been there. This continued for DECADES.

When the sister died, the Gay Pirate Plate lived triumphantly in my grandmother’s house. And then my grandmother died. And my aunt, who had lived with her and been her carer throughout her life, rightfully inherited their house.

We visit my aunt after the funeral and stay with her for a week or two.

Me, my sister, and our dad. Her brother.

The three of us look at each other. We don’t say anything. We studiously avoid making eye contact with the Gay Pirate Plate mounted proud and ugly on the wall. We notice one another studiously avoiding looking at it. We notice one another noticing. We say nothing. We come to a silent consensus. We pack up to leave. We get in the van. Our aunt comes out to say goodbye. I loudly announce I need to use the restroom before we leave. She obviously stays outside to continue talking to my dad.

I take down the Gay Pirate Plate, stuff it under my oversized sweatshirt, go outside, and get in the van. She happily waves goodbye as we drive off.

Two days later my dad gets a phone call that opens with hysterical laughter and “You FUCKING ASSHOLE did you seriously STEAL THE PLATE--”

Anyway. The gay pirate plate lives in my dad’s house currently.

But he’s trying to get me and my sister out to visit him. And plate mounts are cheap.

[padmestrilogy]

i think it’s prettty important that padme is the one who says “to be angry is to be human.” padme, the person who, throughout the entire saga, is allowed to express her anger the least. she stays composed when decrying the senate. she balances feeling betrayed by anakin with trying to talk him down. padme’s been a diplomat since 14. it would take years of unlearning for her to access anakin’s naked, messy rage. and for her to assert that volatility is part of being alive? padme knows she’s been denied her humanity. and she can only hope for moments of escape: she can never regain it completely.

[annabethcheese]

Can we talk about this part? Walk with me.

In this excerpt, we see Percy enraged, ready to protect Annabeth, divert Kronos' attention from her and draw attention to himself, because he obviously didn't want her to get hurt. We know this.

BUT

Throughout the book, we see Percy refer to Luke's figure as Kronos when the Titan already has control of Luke's body. I know that in other scenes Percy refers to Luke as well, even with Kronos having control of Luke's body. My point is not that. My point is THIS SCENE.

In this scene, Annabeth was already extremely disappointed in Luke. In this scene, Annabeth had already realized that it was because of Luke that so many other innocent demigods died. In this scene, Annabeth was physically fragile, but emotionally destroyed.

IN THIS SCENE, Percy doesn't just run to protect Annabeth from Kronos, IN THIS SCENE he runs to protect her from Luke. If we notice, throughout the entire saga Percy tries as much as possible to avoid Annabeth seeing Luke or talking to him because he knew how much it would hurt her, he knew that Luke would try to manipulate her. He couldn't seeing that happen, he couldn't stand the thought of Luke hurting Annabeth.

"Don't touch her", that sentence wasn't for Kronos. That sentence was for Luke. As if he was saying: "Don't you DARE touch her, don't you DARE hurt her one more time. Don't you DARE.

He was talking to Luke. And he knew Luke was listening.

Picture credits

[lxndonorris]

new season, new suit - Charles Leclerc (SFS24)

Y/N x Charles Leclerc Theme: Smut (you've been warned) Theme: you're attending the ferrari photoshoot, watching Charles pose like the model he is. What happens when he invites you to the changing room? word count: 2080+ taglist: @game-set-canet the second installment of the suit fitting saga 2024.

Your heart buzzes with anticipation as the new Formula 1 season looms on the horizon, and Charles, your boyfriend and a professional racing driver for Scuderia Ferrari, is in the midst of a photoshoot for his team's new gear. 

The vibrant red racing suit, tailored to perfection, hugs his athletic frame like a second skin, accentuating every contour and muscle. Throughout the last few years, he has been a part of the Ferrari family, and they always manage to create such beautiful suits for him and his teammate. 

You watch Charles and Carlos strike poses, standing right next to each other, as the guy with the huge camera tells them what to do next.

When he invited you to join him for the shoot, you couldn't resist the opportunity to witness him in his element and, obviously, see the new suit on him.

As he strikes pose after pose, his smile contagiuos and his eyes sparkling with excitement, your heart swells with pride. Charles looks so handsome, with the fabric of the suit flowing perfectly across his firm body, accentuating all the right spots. 

Anytime he moves, you can't help but admire his physique: his big biceps bulging, his thick thighs, and his strong frame—just perfect. You feel a sudden rush of joy and excitement, knowing that he wants you there by his side.

With each click of the camera, you find yourself falling even more deeply in love with him.

Then Carlos walks away, looking at the pictures through the screen as Charles sits down, ready for another round.

That's when your eyes meet from across the room, and you notice a familiar glint of longing desire burning in his eyes. Charles licks his lips, lifts his chin, and strikes another pose: he runs a hand across his chest firmly, dragging the suit's fabric acoss as his hand reaches his neck. 

He takes a deep breath while resting his other hand casually on his thighs, right after he subtly strokes himself some more.

It feels like he is posing just for you, his gaze seeking yours amidst the whirlwind of activity surrounding us.

It's nearly impossible to look away until he focuses on the camera once more. Tension is building up inside your belly and chest, sending several shivers down your spine. 

For a moment, you look around. Someone might have watched this, exposing his teasing nature, but nobody reacts—just you.

That's when he strikes another pose, looking for your eyes once again. Sparks are flying when he opens his mouth, posing like a real model would, while his burning gaze pulls you in.

You notice his hands now stroking his chest shortly before a sly smirk creeps on his lips—the same smirk he would give you before kissing you in bed.

Letting out a low sigh, you regain your composure, but the thought of him on top of you, kissing you while encompassing your entire body with his soft hands, gives you goosebumps. 

You hear his voice inside your mind—a mere whisper, a soft moan—as he grinds his hips on yours. With his hand around your neck, he keeps on kissing you, pinning you to the bed. His desire presses against your thighs, asking for one special thing.

"That's it for now." The photographer's voice snaps you out of your daydreaming. He captures the last few shots before Charles regains his stance, running his hands one last time across his chest before approaching the computer.

They talk for a little while, while you can't help but sink back into that daydream. Closing your eyes, you try to push these thoughts away, but his low groans echo through every fiber of your body.

"Well, what do you think?" Charles' voice makes you jump slightly, and you open your eyes to find him standing right in front of you, a coy smile forming in the corner of his lips. "How do I look?"

"Stunning." You reply, letting your eyes wander all over him, noticing how firm his body has grown due to the excitement and tension building up throughout the shoot.

With a chuckle, Charles leans in close, his lips brushing against yours in a sweet and tender kiss.

"Carlos, your turn." A voice echoes through the studio as Carlos takes the stage. 

Both of you turn to watch him perform, just as well as Charles did before him. 

Then, however, Charles leans into you again, his lips inches away from your ear. 

"I hope you know how happy I am that you're here today." He breathes against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

"Thanks for the invitation." You turn to meet his gaze; his eyes sparkle in mischief.

Both of you turn back to watch Carlos strike another pose, but then Charles whispers into your ear again.

"I always feel so special wearing this gear." His voice is low and rough. "I want to share the first time wearing this suit with you." 

You dare not look at him, trying to avoid his gaze, but you're way too hooked not to look at him.

He bites his lower lip, trying to swallow a mischievous smirk, but subconsciously, he strokes his chest again, letting his hand slide down his suit to the faint bulge forming in his trousers.

"You're an idiot." You chuckle quietly, grab his chin with your hand, and push him away playfully.

For a second, you just watch the shoot play out in front of you, but then he turns back to you.

"I can tell Carlos is feeling the same." He chuckles to himself, and you can see his eyes now checking out his teammate.

"How?" You ask carefully, and he just motions for you to watch Carlos.

"Just watch his body move, so deliberately yet so naturally," Charles says, "just the way his muscles bulge—his chest, arms, and thighs. Just like mine." He swallows hard before turning his face back to yours. "Could you tell?"

Breathing deeply, you nod slowly. 

"Just so fucking good." Charles smiles, leans in, and kisses you again; this time, it's a much more passionate kiss.

As the photoshoot comes to an end and they talk about the pictures for a while, Charles turns to you with a playful grin, his eyes filled with warmth and affection.

"Care to join me backstage?" He asks, his voice low and husky—an offer you can't refuse.

With a nod, you take his hand, leading him toward the changing room. Luckily, each driver got their own little private area—enough space for the two of you to have some fun.

Inside, the air is filled with the scent of his cologne, wrapping you like a familiar embrace as he pulls you into him, his hands now tightly on your waist.

Steadying yourself against his strong frame, you take the opportunity to stroke his firm chest. His muscles are already as hard as rocks, and his clothes are barely able to contain his form. 

With a gentle touch, you run your hands over the fabric of the suit, marveling at its sleek texture against your fingertips. It was like silk beneath your touch—smooth and luxurious.

As you explore the contours of his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles, Charles lets out a soft sigh, his eyes locking with yours in a silent exchange of desire. His hands run along your waistline to your arse, and you can't help but feel a surge of excitement coursing through your veins.

Carefully, you unbutton the collar of his suit, exposing the zipper. You exchange a knowing look, and he lets you pull the zipper down, revealing the tight red fireproofs he is wearing underneath.

With a little help, his upper body slips out of his clothes, the sleeves now hanging down his waist. 

His undergarments are even tighter, just like a second skin that drags across his muscles, his nipples, and down his thick biceps and shoulders.

With a playful grin, Charles flexes his muscles, the fabric of the fireproofs stretching taut against his athletic frame. Every ripple and bulge is accentuated, showcasing his physique in all its glory—a sight to behold—and you can't tear your eyes away from him.

"Like what you see?" he teases, his voice so rough.

"Absoluetly," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Because I need this so much." Charles leans into you, kissing you. His body presses against yours, and right away, his hips grind against yours.

Together, you make your way through the room until you come to a standstill. You're standing with your back against a wall, Charles' lips tightly on yours, while one hand is around your neck, stroking you gently.

In response, you stroke his chest again and again, causing him to purr happily right in your mouth. The faint scent of his cologne grows stronger, swirling all around you as he runs a hand across your chest, your boobs, and right between your legs.

"Charles." You tilt your head, letting out a low grunt.

"I'm so hard right now," he replies, letting out a guttural groan from deep down his throat. His burning desire is rubbing against your thighs. So good.

"Let me handle that." You smirk, and in one swift motion, you turn him around, pressing his back against the concrete wall.

A devious smirk tugs at his lips, knowing very well what you're offering.

Placing a hand at his neck, you trace his firm jawline with your fingertips, enjoying how his very light stubble tickles your skin. 

You kiss him once, twice, again, and again, right on his lips, before you make your way down his chest.

"You're so handsome." Running your thumb along his soft, wet lips, you look into his eyes, causing him to take another deep breath. At the same time, you rub his member with the palm of your hand, as you know he enjoys that so much.

"You're gorgeous." He murmurs, his eyes wandering all over your face—from your lips to your cheeks and back to your eyes.

You let your hands run down his neck to his chest, firmly feeling his muscles through the fireproofs. You pinch his nipples—one of his sensitizing spots—causing him to swallow a long moan.

"That feels good." He breathes deeply.

Before you go any further, you pull his shirt up, exposing his beautiful, bare chest. At first, you trace his tangible abs with your index finger before you place longing kisses all over his skin.

Looking up, you catch him watching you closely. Charles licks his lips and strokes his own chest as you get on your knees.

With a little help from him, you manage to pull his suit down enough for him to present his length bulging through his undergarments.

"You're a big boy." You tease him by tracing the outlines of his member, causing him to smirk again.

"I've been hoping we would do that." He shakes his head, exhausted yet excited. "I couldn't think of anything else." His accent comes through slightly, making you smile.

By biting your lip at the sight of him struggling to keep a straight face, you won't edge him on any longer.

You pull his length out of his suit—it towers in front of you—and you take him in your mouth—a sensational, familiar feeling. His delicious taste spreads across your tongue while he takes several deep breaths, trying not to make too much noise.

As you move your mouth rhythmically, you watch his body follow your lead. All of him is longing for a much-needed release, and you're about to give it to him.

Charles strokes himself firmly, even leaning his head back against the wall. 

"So good." He runs a hand through your hair, stroking you and holding you in place at the same time.

"Mhmm." You moan, enjoying his taste all over your mouth. Your body shakes, and you steady yourself against his thighs, much to his amusement. 

"I'm so close." He growls, blinking a few times, before he can't help but release himself—fucking good.

You let go of him and separate yourself, watching him stroke his member before tugging it back into his underwear. 

"You're a fucking goddess." He chuckles, reaching for your hand and pulling you into another loving kiss.

"Thanks for today." You say, stroking his chest gently while staring into his beautiful eyes.

"I need to thank you." Charles smiles, and you hug each other tightly.

Together, you get changed before you return to the others already waiting for you.

[romanoffsdarling]

Later Never Comes

Pairing: CEO!Silver-Fox!Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your love for her knew no bounds, but there’s only so long you can hold on— only so many empty promises you can stand— before you finally have to let go. Before you finally realize that later may never become real.

Word Count: 4,779

Warnings: G!P Wanda, legal age gap, brief oral (R receiving), dirty (and slightly possessive) talk, mommy kink, slightly rough sex, neglect, and angst (with a bittersweet ending). 18+, Minors DNI.

Author’s Note: I know I promised a second part to Summertime Sadness and Time To Say (Goodbye), but I couldn’t get this idea out of my head. I hope you can forgive me!

Great love always ends in tragedy.

That’s the saying, right? A stupid one if you had anything to say about it. What’s so great about love if it only ends in heartbreak? If you don’t end up with the person that makes your entire being thrum? If everything that had once been so colorful is suddenly black-and-white due to their absence?

Is the love great due to the story? To the emotions, the events, that occur throughout its long winded saga? Or is it great because it was doomed from the start? Because, even though it’d end one way, two people were still willing to fight the odds, to fight fate, even if they’d never end up winning.

You’re not sure, nor do you care, because there’s no way a love of that kind could be anything except terrible— except bone-chillingly agonizing in the way you’d have to figure out how to move on without it. Figure out how to be without the person that made everything make sense, that made you feel like the person you were always meant to be.

Even if it’s been years since you’ve seen her, years since you’ve felt her lips against yours, an elegantly lithe body pressed to your own, and the sweet scent of sandalwood and lavender mixed perfectly in your nose, you haven’t been able to figure that out. Haven’t been able to get her out of your system, no matter how much you may try.

How could you? When you’ve loved, and been loved by, Wanda Maximoff?

[Past]

“I’m just saying she’s been interested to meet you since she saw our group picture from Fiji.” Your best friend, Agatha, relayed, jovially leading you towards the small, yet upscale, café that Wanda Maximoff— CEO of Scarlet Entertainment— agreed to meet you. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, sweetie. Especially one that came about due to my own propensity to lose bets with that witch.”

Your brow furrows. “I’m just not sure what exactly this meeting is supposed to be about. I just graduated college, I barely have any experience under my belt.”

“But you have me as a mentor,” she rebukes, a small smirk on her lips. “And that’s all that you need to get into Wanda’s head.”

“Ah, yes.” You roll your eyes, amusement welling within your chest. “How could I forget about your age-old rivalry?”

“Don’t phrase it like that. Makes me sound old.” Agatha bumps her shoulder against yours, eyes narrowed.

“And mentor doesn’t?”

“Nope.” She pops the ‘p’. “That makes me sound wise.”

“And what does wisdom come from again?”

You’re just able to dodge the swat directed at your arm, a bright smile tugging your lips upward, as you finally enter the quaint café— the aromatic smell of coffee, a hint of cinnamon, and something slightly citrusy, hits you all at once. A combination that shouldn’t have worked as well it did.

Once you placed your order— a simple coffee with your usual additions— you turned back to Agatha with an expectant expression. “Anything I should know about this meetings, Ags?”

She shakes her head, tendrils of brown hair escaping the haphazard bun she had thrown them in. “You’re here.” Agatha hands you the drink the barista had just put beside you, a wane smile on her lips. “That’s the important part to achieve for any date.”

Your steps stutter, nearly causing you to trip into a nearby table. “W-What?” Widened eyes meet Agatha’s unaffected one, a certain level of calmness that you found irritating. “What do you mean date? I thought this was a meeting?”

Agatha waves her hand. “Lunch meeting, lunch date. Means the same thing in the end.” She shoulders her purse, clearly not planning on staying any longer than she has to. “You’ll be fine, Y/N. You’re a catch. Maximoff would have to be a bigger idiot than I think she already is if she lets you go.”

Before you’re able to respond, Agatha places a chaste kiss to your cheek, offers one last cheeky wink, and saunters her way out of the café, leaving you completely alone. You’re honestly tempted to just abandon ship and get out of dodge— you weren’t good on dates, let alone blind dates. Something your best friend is well aware of, and would definitely be getting in an earful about this later.

However, before you’re able to make a concrete decision on your exit strategy, a husky voice speaks up from behind you.

“Are you Y/N?”

The most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen stood in front of you when you turned around: long auburn hair, speckled with the beginning signs of gray, paired perfectly with the sharp emerald green of her gaze. An elegantly lithe body, encased in a form-fitting suit, tailored made to enhance every perfect curve, relaxed in a way that almost seemed arrogant— if it was for the confidence that exudes from her very being.

“Yes.” Your brain finally catches up with you, remembering the question she had asked. “Y/N.” You hold out your hand for her to shake. “Y/N L/N, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

A small smile catches full lips, a slender hand grasping your own in a firm shake. “Wanda Maximoff.” Green eyes trail down your body. “And, trust me, the pleasure is all mine.”

The months that followed the blind date went by in a blur. You could honestly say that you’ve never met anyone else like Wanda Maximoff— a woman that personified ice and fire. Watching her work— whether it be as you’re lounged on her large leather sectional, laptop balanced on her lap as slender fingers gently stroke your back, or she’s pacing back and forth with her phone pressed to her ear; voice dripping with barely concealed annoyance, underlined by a calm collectiveness that never failed to make you swoon— was an art form in itself, but being able to see the woman that appeared at the end of the day?

Where an icy facade of professionalism melts into warm smile and gentle eyes. Sharp words being replaced by sweet nothings and gentle humming.

In Wanda’s arms you’ve found a place you never even knew you were missing— home. You had a couple relationships in the past, but none of them made you feel the way Wanda does; all paling in comparison to the beautiful Sokovian.

The one thing you hadn’t expected upon beginning to date the older woman was how insatiable she was— not that you were complaining— but Wanda needed to have you as often as she could. Taking you the bedroom of your apartment, the various rooms in her penthouse, in her office within Scarlet Entertainment, hell even in the back of a limo on the way to an event. Wanda needed to have you and you needed to have her right back.

Another little thing you’ve learned about her? Or, you should say, not so little? The Sokovian sported an extra appendage that had quickly become your new best friend— not that you were going to tell Agatha that— who seemed to want you as much as Wanda did.

Which is how you found yourself where you are now— on your back, thighs clamped around Wanda’s head, as she thoroughly ate you out on the couch of her office.

“Yes.” You arch sharply, a sob being torn from your throat as Wanda’s tongue plunges even deeper into you. Your girlfriend hums happily at the sound, the vibrations sending a shockwave across your clit, and another wave of wetness gushes out of you— something that Wanda is all too happy to lap up. She had told you on more than one occasion, after she spent hours upon hours between your thighs, that you beat out even the finest of wines to her. “Please. I need you.”

With clear reluctance to leave, Wanda pulls back and easily settles on top of you. Lips and chin shining lewdly in the dim lighting of her office, darkened emerald eyes sparkling even brighter.

“You taste great, detka.” She lowers her head, offering her tongue for you to suck on. Giving you a taste of yourself, mixed intoxicatingly with her own natural one. “Could spend hours eating up your perfect pussy, but that’s not what you want, huh?” She jerks her hips, rubbing her cock against your wetness. “You want mommy to be inside you, right? Want her to stretch you out and make you scream?” Another roll of her hips causes you to arch, a breathless gasp leaving you, but Wanda doesn’t relent. “Answer me, detka. Be my good girl and I’ll give you what you crave. What do you want mommy to do?”

“Fuck me.” The cry is practically wrenched from your chest, a deep felt plea for her to just plunge into you and ruin you for anyone else. Not that she hasn’t been able to accomplish that already. “I want you to slam your cock into my pussy and make me yours, mommy. I want your cock to make my pussy its own, to shape me in its image.”

A deep, almost rumbling, snarl erupts from Wanda in response, her hips snapping forward and you’re finally filled; stretched out so fucking perfectly, an obscene slurp echoed across the room the moment Wanda’s hips met your own. She hadn’t made you cum with her mouth, but you had been so close, she had given you a mini orgasm just by entering— a feat that brings a smug smile to Wanda’s lips.

“You feel that, detka.” She takes your hand and brings it down to the slight bulge in your lower abdomen. “That’s my cock ruining you for anyone else. No one will ever be able to fill you the way I do, make you scream yourself hoarse.” Wanda snaps her hips forward after a shallow pull-back, giving out a satisfied hum at the feeling of your slick walls pressed around her. “Your pussy belongs to me, your pleasure belongs to me, and you belong to me.”

Wanda lowers her head, lips pressed firmly to your own, giving you even more of a taste of yourself than before, as her tongue practically fucks your mouth while her cock fucks your pussy. When she detaches her lips from yours, only a thin trail of saliva is left, before she’s far enough away for it to snap.

The sound of flesh slapping against flesh permeates the air, an occasional grunt or moan intercepting it, and you’d be concerned about the noise level if Wanda hadn’t sent Peter, her assistant, home early— having planned to have you like this from the very moment she had invited you over.

“Just like that, mommy. Keep fucking me like that,” you babble, drunk on pleasure as Wanda kept driving her hips forward, one slender finger roughly rubbing your clit in time with each thrust. It’s of no surprise that you find your release quickly after, gushing over Wanda’s cock.

The tight contractions around her cock— as your second orgasm was much more powerful than your first— causes Wanda to groan, hips stuttering in their brutal pace. It’s clear that she was close, sweat slicked brow, causing strands of silver hair to cling to fair skin, but she obviously wanted you to come one last time— to be tossed over the edge with her.

With a shake breath, Wanda roughly brings you to the brink of your third orgasm, not even giving you time to fully get through the second. “One more, detka. You’ve got one more in you for mommy.” She dips her head, lips tenderly brushing across your forehead. “And when you come around mommy’s cock, I’m gonna fill you up like the good girl you are. Would you like that?”

You nod, practically whining. “Yes. Please.”

The older woman snarls once more, clearly affected by the look on your face, and, before you’re even aware of it, you’re crashing over the edge again— a cry of Wanda’s name passing over your lips as you spasm around her. Barely being able to catch Wanda’s own groan in response: “Yes.”

Jets of her cum paint your inner walls white, warming you up. It’s a feeling you don’t think you’ll ever get used to— or want to get used to, if you’re being honest.

Once she’s spent, Wanda gently lowers herself onto your still slightly spasming body, lips pressed softly against your cheek. “You did so good. So perfect for me. My beautiful girl.”

You happily nuzzle into Wanda’s neck, eyes drooping out of contented exhaustion. “I love you.”

You’re too out of it to feel Wanda stiffen in surprise, or to really understand what you had just whispered, but you are aware of Wanda’s arms tightening around you, her lips pressing more firmly against your skin, as she cuddles you closer to her.

And, as you begin to drift off completely, happy in Wanda’s arms, you faintly feel Wanda exhale across the shell of your ear, a shaky breath, uncharacteristic for the older woman, before her soft voice breaks through the silence: “I love you too. More than I ever thought I’d love anyone.”

[A Few Months Later…]

“How many do you want?”

It’s asked softly, one of Wanda’s hand gently running up-and-down your back in a soothing motion. Her lips pressed against the crown of your head, your face nuzzled against the crook of her neck, a place you don’t feel like leaving anytime soon.

“How many what?” You snuggle closer, delighted in the way her arms tighten instinctively. “I want a lot of things, Wands.”

Wanda huffs out a light chuckle. “Children, Y/N. How many children do you want?”

You stiffen in surprise at the question— Wanda hadn’t made it a secret that she didn’t plan on having kids. That she didn’t think she’d make a good mother due to her childhood and her busy lifestyle, but you also know that your girlfriend wouldn’t ask something unless she’s serious about the answer. Something you’ve figured out after all these months together. Regrettably, you pull your face away from the warm nest it had made so you’re able to look at her, and Wanda met your eyes calmly, sharp green softened in a way that’s only ever meant for you.

“What’s this about, Wanda?” You roll your lips, trying to process your next words carefully. “I thought you didn’t want kids?”

Emerald eyes flash warmly. “I didn’t want a lot of things, Y/N.” She easily tugs you back into her arms, lips pressed to your forehead. “But that was all before I met you.”

Touched by her words— and the clear sincerity within them— you decide to just bite the bullet, there wasn’t a point in delaying your answer. Especially if Wanda expected it.

“Two.” A gentle kiss is placed to her collarbone. “I want two boys. Twins.”

She breathes out another chuckle. “Twins, huh?” Maneuvering you both, you’re suddenly pressed against the mattress, Wanda hovering over you, smile still in place, with a familiar hardness nestled between your thighs. “That seems like something we’d have to get just right, correct?”

Even though it’s posed as question, you can tell that Wanda meant it rhetorically. That she already knew the answered you’d both settle on— an answer you always agreed upon.

Wiggling your hips, grinning mischievously at the sharp gasp that leaves Wanda’s lips at the added pressure, you throw your arms loosely around her neck.

“Yes.” You pull her closer, lips millimeters from her own. “I think it’s something we’re going to have practice quite a bit.”

Not needing any more prompting Wanda descends onto you with a ravenous hunger. One that you’re all too happy to match.

You can’t wait to experience your future if this is what’ll be waiting for you there.

The phone is cold against your overheated flesh— a concoction of anger and disappointment courses through you like lava.

“Wanda—” You pinch the bridge of your nose to stem the tide of anger. “This is the eighth time this week alone. What the hell am I supposed to tell the caterers? Again.”

A soft sigh resounds through the speaker. “Just tell them that I won’t be able to make it, Y/N.” The response, in a clearly distracted tone, does little to ease your growing ire. “I know you’ll be able to handle it.”

“I don’t want to handle it, Wanda. This is our wedding, I’d like for you to also have a say in it.” From the time on the clock, you didn’t have much time left to leave the penthouse. Not if you wanted to get to the appointment on time. “I’ve been planning this entire thing by myself, I want your help. I want to hear your opinions. I want you.”

To care goes without words, but you’re certain it rings out just the same. You had been so happy when Wanda had suddenly proposed, seemingly out of the blue. Though wasn’t that the point? Taking you to a rooftop restaurant, which she had rented out, and offered you the rare chance of getting to taste her impeccable cooking; all dishes she had learned from her mother back in Sokovia. It had been a night you’d forever cherish, memories forever ingrained in your heart: the way the stars made the green in Wanda’s eyes sparkle more, the subtle wind allowing you to be surrounded by her comforting scent, the bright smile she had given you when she dropped down to one knee, and the happy laugh that had escaped her when you said yes. It had been a fairytale, everything you had ever wanted.

Until you realized your Disney fairytale was beginning to turn into Brothers Grimm.

“You have me, Y/N.” Wanda lets out another sigh. “Look, I can’t keep talking the investors for the meeting just arrived and I need to get prepared. I promise that I’ll go over everything you discuss later, okay? I love you.”

“Wanda—”

You’re only met with the sound of the dial tone, barely getting the chance to reply before being hung up on, and the familiar aching sense of silence that follows— a hollow sound that distantly reminded you of what your heart has become.

It hadn’t always been like this. The penthouse, upon your first visit, had been cold, lifeless in a way that seemed almost inhuman, but slowly it had livened up— been filled with a sense of warmth and peace. Of love. It had been a place you could go to when you just needed an escape from the rest of the world, when you needed to be surrounded by things that remind you of the woman you love.

Now it’s suffocating in a way that you never wished for it to be.

You’re aware that Wanda is a busy woman— had been aware of it before your first date occurred— but she had always at least tried to be there. Always left you feeling like you were at least on the list of things that mattered, you didn’t necessarily need to be at the direct top; not when she had so many things to content with already. But, you’ve felt like nothing more than an afterthought lately.

Gentle kisses in the morning turned to brief parting words as she made her way quickly out the door.

Soft smiles, and inside jokes, turned to barely there quirks of full lips, and stretched out silences.

The warmth of her hold, the safety you felt from her touch, turned to an icy chill as she left you to the cold air— you don’t even remember when the last time was that you had been together properly. Since you had woken up in her arms.

You didn’t need a lot, you didn’t need all of her time, but you wanted to feel like you still mattered— that everything you have isn’t just another thing Wanda had marked off on her checklist of things to do before she turns 55.

Checking the time, a small curse leaves your lips once you realize that you’re going to be late, and, with one final glance towards the empty penthouse, you make your way out the door— hoping that the growing chill you feel isn’t indicative of a love grown cold.

Silence had become your greatest friend in the weeks that followed. The one thing that you’ve grown to count on as Wanda’s schedule only seemed to get busier and busier— hell, your relationship with her personal assistant had grown to the point that he’s been calling you by your first name now. Instead of the usually nervous ma’am or Ms. L/N.

Wedding appointments had come and gone, all of them spent alone, with Wanda barely perusing the choices that had been made before crashing out of sheer exhaustion. Conversation had grown stilted due to her own growing ire at you consistent worry— although she labeled it as nagging. That she’s been running her business for over thirty years, and she’s been doing fine.

Even now, on New Years Eve, as the clock moved ever closer to midnight, you were completely alone— expansive shadows, that seemed darker somehow, stretched out towards you like ghastly fingers, trying to tear whatever semblance of comfort you’ve found away. You’re not sure what you had been expecting, not even sure if you’d truly believed that Wanda would show herself, but you can’t lie and say that you hadn’t hoped.

Hoped that today, of all days, would be different. That you wouldn’t feel like a stranger, an intruder, within your own life, within your own home.

Fanciful musings and hopes of a lovestruck fool.

The small chirp of an incoming message pulls you from your reverie, a bright smile appearing instantly at the sight of who it’s from, before withering away once you read it: Sorry, I won’t be able to make it home tonight. Going to the Hamptons to meet some new business partners. I promise I’ll make it up to you later. I love you.

You don’t bother to send a message back— what could you possibly say? Yet another promise had been thrown to the wayside by the older woman. Even if it was just a cursory, and unspoken, one being as simple as not leaving your fiancé alone on New Years. Or waiting until the last minute to actually say anything about it.

A soft sigh escapes your lips, an acidic twang settling over your tongue, as bitterness seeps into your bloodstream, poisoning your heart and soul. You knew what you needed to do, have known since this had become your new normal, but hadn’t had the strength, or the courage, to make it a reality. Until now.

Until the heartbreak, the suffering, has become as close of a friend to you as the oppressive silence.

And, as the door to the penthouse gently closed behind you, never to be opened by your hand again, you feel a sense of bone-deep sorrow settle over you. For everything that could have been, for what you had hoped for, and all that you now had to live without. You could just step back inside, hide or destroy the letter, and Wanda would never know. She’d never find out how close you had been to giving up, but you couldn’t find the strength to do so. Could no longer gather up the power to keep fighting for something that’s been lost long ago— no matter how much your heart screams at it not being true.

Tears gather in your eyes as you take another step away from the door, away from the place you’ve lived in for the last two years, and your heart breaks with every step. But, it breaks even more at the knowledge that you were leaving your true home behind too— that doing this would destroy everything you have with Wanda, never to be salvaged. The penthouse may be expensive, and it may be beautiful, but it’d never be home to you like Wanda; it’d never offer you the same feeling of protection like her arms did.

You’ve been shut out of your home for months now, and being left out in the cold has finally frozen your heart enough for you to be able to do this. No matter how much more it was going to hurt once it thaws once more.

Shouldering your duffel bag, the only thing you’ve allowed yourself to bring, you step into the private elevator and press the button for the lobby. Hands tightening around the strap of the bag, trying to ignore the way your ring finger no longer felt the familiar press of metal against it as you do so.

It was time to look forward, to finally make your own laters, the things you had been pushing off, become an actuality.

Even if you wanted nothing more than to have never needed to say goodbye to Wanda Maximoff in the first place.

Losing the ring was one thing, but losing the love of your life?

It’s a wound you’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to recover from.

[Present]

“Mom?” The small voice catches your attention, your eyes focused back in to see bright eyes, twin grins being sported between the pair. “Can we still get hot chocolate?”

Billy and Tommy had come into your life when you needed them to most— a blessing that you’d definitely been searching for after everything imploded with Wanda. And, even if how they were conceived didn’t lend itself to a happy tale, you’d never change a thing. They were your twin miracles. Your beautiful baby boys— even if they were eight years old now.

“I thought you decided to get caramel popcorn instead?” You poke Billy’s side gently, delighted in the giggle the actions caused. “That’s what you both told me at the theater.”

Tommy’s eyes widened dramatically, in full puppy-dog mode. “But that was before you took us past our favorite store.” He points to the small café only a few feet away— one that you frequented with the twins when you could find the time. A place that you hadn’t even realized you’d be leading them towards. “Can we please get hot chocolate.”

The twins chime in unison: “Please.”

You chance a glance towards the café— deliberating your options— but you know that you’re going to cave. After all, the reason you had gone to the movies was to celebrate their stellar report cards. What harm could some extra hot chocolate do?

So, with a faux long-suffering sigh, you relent. “I suppose.”

“Yes!” Twin cheers are your immediate response, brightening the smile on your lips, and you soon find yourself in the quaint café— one that held so many memories for you. Phantoms of your past the whispered in your ear as you placed your order and directed your boys to their usual spot.

Only half-listening to their chatter about the movie you had just seen— some superhero film— you simply bask in the simplicity their joy brought you. Observing their small faces light up, little hands waving around as they discussed various points, and your heart swells with more love than you ever thought you could feel.

“—What did you think, mom?”

Billy’s sudden question tears you from your musings, his widened eyes, alight with excitement, giving you the impression that he really wanted to hear what you thought.

“About the movie?” They both nod. “I thought it was good, bug.”

Tommy pouts. “Yeah, but what did you like most about it? Did you have a favorite scene?”

“I—”

“Order for Y/N.”

Saved by the bell, you think. A wave of relief crashing over you. “You two stay put.” Standing, you ruffle their hair. “I’ll be right back with our drinks.”

At the prospect of their hot chocolate they don’t seem to mind that you didn’t answer their question— though you’d certain Tommy would ask you again. Though you’d have more than enough time to google some things about the movie before then. Small miracles.

Stopping at the counter, you take the tray with the drinks with a smile and a nod in greeting to the server you’ve grown quite fond of.

“Y/N?”

Breath catching in your throat at the husky voice sounding out behind you, the cadence and tone so familiar that your heart still burns from it. Hesitating only slightly, you turn and meet the shimmering emerald eyes you haven’t seen in a little over eight years. Her face still as beautiful as you’d last seen it, if a bit older now.

“Wanda.”

[oneawkwardwriter]

So High School

pairing: James Potter x fem!reader warnings/tags: none except some teeth rotting fluff, possibly inaccurate Quidditch team (I didn't know everyone's positions), allusions to suggestive content?, no use of Y/n summary: just James being an absolutely amazing boyfriend totally not self-insert what- a/n: and thus begins the saga of me taking Taylor Swift songs and turning them into stories about fictional characters. Don't even act like you're surprised, you shouldn't be by now <3 Also, I've been wanting to write for James but couldn't get it right, so a little thank you to Miss Taylor for making this possible wc: 0.8k

"And another goal made by Gryffindor chaser James Potter!" Remus shouts into the microphone while he reacts to the latest Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. "That is three in a row for Gryffindor. Sorry, Ravenclaw, it seems like you'll have no chance of winning today, better forfeit already-"

He is cut off by Professor McGonagall taking the mic out of his hands, "Don't get forget to stay objective, Mr. Lupin," She says, just loud enough for the microphone to pick it up, but the crowd is too busy cheering to hear it.

James does a victory lap on his broom, flying close to the crowd. When he comes close to your section, he sends a quick wink in your direction. You lightly chuckle and roll your eyes when a couple of first years nearly faint from being so close to their unrequited hallway crush.

Not that you can entirely blame them, seeing as you yourself still can't shake the giddy feeling of butterflies whenever James wraps his arms around you. Sure, you'd been dating for about half a year, but somehow he still managed to make your heart skip a beat.

Not long after, the match is over when Marlene manages to catch the Snitch. Louds cheers erupt once more from the spectators on the stands, and soon enough, they're running onto the field to greet the victors.

You're pulled along in the flood of people, practically carried towards the field until the crowd parts for the Gryffindor team. You smile as you lock eyes with James, who practically storms right at you before trapping you in a bear hug, slightly lifting you off the crowd.

"That was amazing!" You say as you wrap your arms around his neck, kissing his cheek. "You did so great out there."

"Only because my lucky charm was in the stands," James replies, burying his face in your neck as he grins, "Couldn't have done it without you cheering me on." You chuckle, knowing arguing against him would be pointless even though you know he's a great player whether you're there or not.

The celebrations continued in the Gryffindor common room, the firewhiskey flowing while people cheered, laughed and talked to each other. Throughout the entire night, James held you practically glued to his hip: always an arm around your shoulders or waist, kissing the top of your head or your cheek.

"-And then Mary fired that Bludger at the Ravenclaw Seeker, and I ducked down for the Quaffle, and then-" James rants about the game, completely caught up in his story.

"Remember to breathe, James. We don't need you passing out," Remus says, making everyone laugh and James shake his head.

"Oh please, as if I could breathe when this one here takes my breath away the entire time," James quips, "Not that I mind, though. I'd gladly pass out if it meant you sitting next to me in the hospital wing."

"James!" You exclaim.

"What? It's true," He responds shamelessly as he shrugs, making the others shake their heads and chuckle.

As if you weren't already glued to his side, James pulls you even closer to him, making you laugh when his breath tickles the nape of your neck.

"Oh come on, can you two act even more like high school sweethearts? We're getting cavities from looking at you " Sirius groans, to which you only raise an eyebrow and reply with, "That's rich coming from the guy who had his tongue down his boyfriend's throat less than a minute ago."

"I don't see the relevance of you pointing that out, but alright," Sirius replies with mock-ignorance as he sits close to Remus, who nuzzles his face in Sirius's nape and softly smiles.

As the night progressed, the firewhiskey started to take over your systems, making you a bit more bold and unfiltered.

"You know, sometimes I still don't understand how we got together," You say, slightly slurring your words as you look at James.

"Oh god, here we go again," Sirius sighed, turning to Remus, "James is going to confess his undying love for her again."

"Hey, I can't help it that this perfect angel walked into my life, you have Remus to blame for that," James shrugged as he kisses your cheek for the millionth time that night.

You and Remus had been friends ever since first year, finding companionship in your shared love for literature and classic history. James swears he fell for you when you were rambling about the works of some ancient philosopher, claiming that you could light up an entire city with the energy you put into it.

"Well, I don't know about perfect angel, but thank you anyway," You say, resting your head on James's shoulder as you whisper in his ear. "I love you, James."

"I love you too, love."

© This work belongs to @oneawkwardwriter, please do not copy this work to any other site or claim it as your own. Reblogs are allowed and appreciated!

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[seirindono]

TMS - Author's note (Arc 1)

Today I'm stepping up to talk about TMS for a while. It's going to be a lot of blah blah, no TLDR, so hang in there or save it for later if you're brave enough, haha (¯▿¯)

So, another chapter of TMS draws to a close, with the difference that this time it's a whole saga that's coming to an end! That's a big relief for me, given that we recently celebrated the comic's 4th anniversary! That's almost the entire duration of my college life, and that's both an impressive and terrifying achievement lol.

The comic is divided into 3 arcs, each separated by an interlude. The first runs from part 1 to 8, with 201 pages total (wow!). In it, you are introduced to Mel, a young skeleton with a rather unclear past, who accidentally arrives in a a foreign timeline, along with other well known skeletons. Nowadays it's just an isekai haha. Throughout the arc, she proves to be a cautious Monster, quiet and somewhat withdrawn compared to the other skeletons we come across, notably Rus, Blue and Axe, who each got their own sequences.

Still, Mel in the last few scenes is starting to show more initiative, and the interlude will make this even more obvious, but we can expect her to open up a lot more during the next Arc, about her past, motives, goals and thoughts.

I could go on at length about what's in store for us in the interlude, but given that it's due for release sometime in 2024, I'm going to talk about the general story line instead. Although we follow Mel who is foreign to what's going on in this universe prior to her arrival, the other characters and events suggest that strange phenomena are taking place in Ebott, leading many people to become embroiled in a highly unusual affair. Crossing timelines, earthquakes, mysterious apparitions in the forest, something is afoot and the situation seems to be at a turning point when Mellow gets here.

Everyone has their own way of dealing with the situation and what to do next. Some are serious and pragmatic, like Black, others optimistic, like Blue, and others, like Papyrus, find themselves completely backed into a corner, forced to do their best to fix whatever needs to be.

A special case, however, is Axe, whom Mel meets in the forest as she investigates Mt. Ebott. The two have diametrically opposed views of their current condition. One wants to return to her world by any means necessary, regardless of the advantages of a peaceful world. The other, not so much. Both refuse to talk about their past and ignore the other's circumstances, but a sense of familiarity drives them to try to convince the other to stay or go. These are two stark positions to reconcile, and while we can expect Blue and the other skeletons to have their own views on the subject too, Mel and Axe are strangely "committed" in this interraction and resort to violence, spurred on by a unknown substance that causes Axe to momentarily lose control.

Mel is wounded, Axe unconscious, and the status quo disrupted. Other consequences follow this confrontation, and several questions are raised: Can Blue really help Mel when Axe accuses him of having already given up on going home himself? What is this mysterious entity Axe came across a few days earlier? The vibrations? What was that substance that made him go berserk? And what made him stop? Can we trust Mel and what she tells us? And many others.

Because as I'm sure many of you have come to realize, Mel has proven to be a rather unreliable narrator (or at least character since you don't follow her actual POV). Blatantly lying or omitting facts to others and readers alike, it's hard to know her next move and whether she's genuinely forgotten important infos (for it's well established at this stage that she has hazy memories and that they continue to deteriorate. The same applies to her health).

In the same way, each part of TMS so far has raised more questions than it has answered, but I can confidently say that the road is paved for Arc 2 to answer and put in perspective most of them, ahah.

Ah, this is also the moment when I can announce that ALL skeletons will be featured in the Interlude. Should be. Hopefully.

I'd also like to point out a few narrative changes for Act 2! The central characters, in particular. Original cast characters such as Undyne, Metatton and a veiled character will be more formally introduced, but we'll also meet up with characters we've already bumped into, but in a much more concrete way, such as Frisk and Alphys. I can't wait for you to get to know them! You can also expect more pov changes, more elipses and so on. Things are moving fast.

But that begs the question. When is it due? As said before, the first Arc lasted 4 years and I'm entering my last (and most crucial) year of college. I still don't know if I'll have time to get much of it done in 2025, but on the other hand, I'd like to strike while the iron's hot lest TMS be discontinued after a 1-year hiatus and my entry into the working world. Student loan, life and all. There are still plenty of things I'd like to bring to this project, and I now have the skills to actually carry them out, but on the other hand, the time involved has also increased exponentially.

Tbh with you, as an animation student, it's been one of my dreams since 2020 to do one of TMS's sequences in animatic or full anim, or even a trailer for the comic! But as a solo team, it's just unreasonable and I know it. But the parasite ----. Don't get me wrong, I could, but it would take me months and it's just not realistic when 80% of my time has to go into professionnal work that goes into my portefolio or adult stuff. I can't affort to invest time in solo-ing it or to recruit and lead a team over one side project of mine ( ´ ▿ ` ) So we'll most likely stick to classic pages.

But the same goes for collabs, community events, side stories, asks, edits, dubs, testing other platforms, regular animatics. Love all of that. Really. But I never have the time to because, man, I'd love to actually finish TMS someday ahah. It all comes back to the age-old problem of “lots of ideas, little time”, and it's so frustrating but, it's a choice I have to stick to, so bear with me as I vent my frustration. Just for tonight (´ ∀ `, *)

So, yes. Act 2. Next year? Probably? It's a long interlude, so you'll get smth in the meantime, but it's likely to decide the future of TMS and whether Act 2 sees the light of day as I imagine it or if...well, something else replaces it.

bringing back this doodle cuz it seems fiting lol

Anyway, I also wanted to thank you for your engagement with Part 8!

I don't know how other comic artists experience it, but for me it's a very isolated work, and as much as I love working alone, I enjoy the interaction with readers most of all.

Seeing people losing their mind over a serious scene, or chuckling at a dumb gag, or just simping over the characters and art. It's just great, and very rewarding. Likewise, I have a blast answering questions about the TMS universe, reading tags and receiving memes, witnessing people go increasingly mad with messages full of indecipherable screams and hearts. Makes me giggle and kick my feet everytime and I can't wait to drop the next lore bomb or funny scene bwahahah

And while we're on the subject, I'd like to say a special word of thanks to the legions of rebloggers who make it their business to spread the word about TMS. You sweet, lovely, candy scented folks. And to my dear mutuals - with whom I interact objectively so little - who have no idea how a single message or note from them drives me bonkers. Thanks for dropping by. And of course to my super Patreons who support me despite the sparse updates, but to whom I'm more than grateful. Love you all.

Sounds like a farewell message. It's not lol. Just making sure they get the love they deserve.

The post is getting long and I'm kind of done pretending I know how to write organized notes so to wrap things up, here's an exhaustive list of what I'd like to get done this year and/or discuss in more detail another day. •Make a new masterpost (for Act 2) •Analyze/Comment certain sequences from Act 1 to clarify or give context •Redraw and rewrite part 1 and 2 •Make more bonus content again *ahahahahahaha*

•Re open or close the Discord (partially abandoned and it's all on me, but I'm still mulling it over).

•Finish the Interlude and enjoy and nice hiatus

And that's about it? Congratulation for reading this and making it this far! You were there!

Be well, and see you next time.

Seirin-

First part | Prev | Next (INTERLUDE)

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[chinolondoner]

!! Serious Readers Wanted !!

Hello, I am an ambitious author committing to penning thoughtful and well-constructed crime fiction through stony flamboyance.

Under the current penname and alias "Chino Londoner" I am in the eye of a whirlwind of inspiration writing the beginnings of what is set to be a longform, episodic, detective series titled Lullaby for Bishop.

Set in a tropical, Latin American city completely fictionalized and pulled out of the mind of the author, the story entails the final days in an aging private detective's career, hoping to lighten the load in his final run of cases by hiring a young and enthusiastic, male partner to smoothen the more tedious and insidious hurdles.

Wanting to give the reader a well-rounded experience when taking on the themes of the story, there will be moments of general levity and comedic punchlines throughout, but ultimately, Lullaby for Bishop is fundamentally inspired by noir and hard-boiled literature and media. As so, the writing will follow in the genre's legacy of smoky fatalism and tinged by a gnawing and pessimistic torment.

The first twelve chapters in this epic saga can be found and experienced for free by visiting my Patreon.

Click here for early chapters!

short excerpt below...

reblogs are appreciated!

(Excerpt from Chapter Six)

“Surely your parents knew about your choice of career path before they passed away,” Nayaiko said.

“Not that it's really any of your business, but my parents and I never really had a close relationship. Not seeing eye-to-eye on certain things, there was never much of an attempt on either end of the wire to maintain consistent contact.”

“That's unfortunate,” said Nayaiko. “There are few things in the world that should be put above strong, family bonds. In Japanese culture, we often inscribe great emphasis in honoring our parents.”

“Yeah, well, I didn't grow up in Japanese culture.” The topic of conversation looked to be a sensitive avenue of discussion for our detective. “I grew up in America. I grew up in California. I grew up in a world full of moral winds and spoon-fed narcissists. I grew up around real-life junkies, part-time junkies, junkies who only meant to wet their lips on the stuff once for a role and manage to never see their grandmother's pained grin ever again. You're going to think I'm crazy for saying this, but my mother actually went through five different accents throughout the lump of my childhood. It was as if this woman was test driving an entirely new persona every other winter flu until she was finally able to discover one that could squeeze her enough money.”

Howl had then looked over at the girls and would take notice of the strange expressions on their faces, such honed and weathered sentiments perhaps a frivolous grade level or two above Nomi and Nayaiko's curated sensibilities.

---

Copyright © 2024 by Chino Londoner

[hecates-corner]

Why did I cry to The Thunder Saga?

Well, there are about a million intricate reasons. Let’s graze the hardest hitters by walking through the saga.

Suffering

Penelope is well-played by the sirens. I knew they were the sirens, I think we all did, but we have the advantage of dramatic irony.

Also, as someone who was told that the sirens weren’t going to be in the saga (but… aren’t they literally perfect? Why wouldn’t they be in it?), I was gaping at my screen in unadulterated excitement and glee.

We as listeners don’t yet know that Odysseus isn’t afraid of the water. It’s never mentioned. So, at the time, my heart ached, if you know about Get In The Water, upcoming. Without spoilers… I think you know why I gasped, though it was futile.

Different Beast

It is, entirely, a reflection of the previous song. Also, it shows how ruthless Odysseus is becoming.

Not just with the slicing and dicing of the sirens’ tails. But the fact that he begins the song by shooting his dear wife, when at first he couldn’t even kill a stranger’s baby, knowing the risks both times.

Also, might I add that the vocals of the sirens are perfect? Aquatic, musical, and monstrous. Very, very inhuman.

Scylla

This is the one that hurts quiiiiite a lot. Besides all of the beautiful cacophonies of the first deaths of our beloved comrades.

I was led to think that, in the beginning and throughout the song, Scylla was singing to Eurylochus just out of sight. She was.

And yet, she wasn’t. At all.

She is deep down. Eurylochus has a secret deep down. And Odysseus knows that deep down, he is doing a bad thing. A bad thing.

But hey, at least Eurylochus feels remorse for his selfish action, right?

Mutiny

This entire song is a callback. This saga was all a callback, and it hurts a ton.

Going from the genuine pain and mortification in Eurylochus’s voice, to Odysseus’s silence, to the usurping and loss of trust, to the large switch in the music after Odysseus is temporarily debilitated, and then the sad, whiny, “Please don’t tell me you’re about to do what I think you’ll do…”

Also, loved Eurylochus calling Odysseus “Ody”, because that shows the depth of their closeness.

Thunder Bringer

And here.

Here is the song that made me cry.

The beginning of the song throws in the crude characterization of Zeus, the lustiness. I love that addition, that largely focused detail.

I froze mid-pace when Zeus told Odysseus to make a choice.

What hurt was the silence. We all knew what was coming.

The slightly distorted, almost underwater or ghastly vocals from Eurylochus struck a nerve, and then reminded me of a child. As if his life were finished, and they all knew it. Odysseus saw a boy, not a man, and knew how this story would finish. Because heroes never get happy endings.

And, to boot, the animation was their final attempt to grab him, to kill him, in desperation. And then—

What hurts the most is that they saw him make the choice. They knew what would happen. But they didn’t want to believe it.

They were never going to make it home.