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its-your-mind · 4 months

Text

ORV as textposts 35/???

[Photo ID - seven images from the ORV manhwa with text pasted upon them.

The first image shows Han Sooyoung gesturing toward Kim Dokja while she talks at him angrily. A Tumblr post by user thefunniesttags is pasted upon her. It shows an AO3 tag that reads, "insults: the sixth love language."

The second image shows Kim Dokja looking at his reflection in a subway door with blood on it. Some blood is positioned to appear to be placed on Kim Dokja's cheek. The text post is by Tumblr user sometimes-love-is-enough and reads, "yeah i turned your boyfriend into an unreliable narrator. sorry. yeah, he's exaggerating aspects of the story to cast himself in a better light. he's obscuring the narrative he doesn't want to think about. he's misrepresenting others to further his own ends. yeah, i think he's doing it as some sort of emotional defence mechanism. his story cannot be trusted. sorry."

The third image shows Yoo Joonghyuk and Kim Dokja looking toward each other with the rest of their body facing the viewer. The visible part of the speech bubble pointing toward Yoo Joonghyuk reads, "something you wanted to tell me." The speech bubble pointing toward Kim Dokja reads, "No, I was just admiring that ugly mug of yours." The text post is by Twitter user @/AZIRACROWS and reads, "the BEST ships always include someone who is clearly on the spectrum and the most depressed man you'll ever meet"

The fourth image shows Kim Dokja looking at a transparent wall of papers with typed text on them. The text post is by Twitter user clit "the spook" buttowski (@/BIGVICEE) and reads, "Men really be having little ass waists for what. WHAT YOU NEED THAT FOR WHORE"

The fifth image is a close-up of Yoo Joonghyuk with a pained expression and yellow and blue lighting around him as he looks at his left hand. The text post is by Tumblr user blazevillain and reads, "YES he is a MASSIVE BITCH but hes also BISEXUAL and a PUNCHING BAG and ALMOST DIES AT LEAST ONCE A WEEK. AND hes my little meow meow."

The sixth image is a close-up of Kim Dokja adjusting the collar of his white cloak while looking over his right shoulder at the viewer. A thought bubble above him reads, "I forgot that he was right here." Two speech bubbles are below him with the first one covered by a Tumblr post by user greelin that reads, "he lived. served cunt. died. got resurrected. served even more cunt." The second original bubble reads, "If I die again, I'II die for good."

The seventh image shows Yoo Joonghyuk panting and sweating while holding two swords with blood dripping on his swords and hands. A quiz result is pasted near the bottom of the image. It reads as follows:

Your Result:

Ancient Fauna

crocodiles are hundreds of millions years old or whatever. mooses are remnants of the ice age. creatures that are young and yet have seen more of this earth than man ever will. who are flesh and blood and alive and yet move as if they exist on a different plane to us. and yet are so real and a part of things. you and these strange liminal creatures confound, sometimes you're being hit by cars or turned into purses and then sometimes giving a look that speaks of aeons gone and aeons to come

/End ID]

ID by @incorrect-web-novels once again 💙💙💙 my deepest appreciation!!!

#orv #omniscient reader's viewpoint #omniscient reader webtoon #yoo joonghyuk #kim dokja #dokhyuk #han sooyoung #doksoo #orv shitpost #orv textposts

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devotion-disorder · 7 months

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hello! big fan of kuuya. i get a little shy about posting about yandere things on any of my mains, so i resurrected an old account for the sake of sending you this. i struggled a little drawing his hair but i had fun colouring it - i hope i did him some justice ☆彡 i like that he is so so tired and struggling. on a more headcanon basis, i like the idea of him being bad at tying his own tie. i just think that would be cute. (i am restraining myself from rambling about headcanons, so please take this image now instead)

first of all,

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA THERE HE IS............M'BOY MY PATHETIC WET CAT................. YOU HAVE DONE MORE THAN JUSTICE I HAVE REASON TO SUSPECT THAT YOU🫵🫵 HAVE SNUCK INTO HIS ROOM AND TOOK A PHOTO OF HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

and your art style is SO LOVELY!!!!!!!!!!!!! the muted colours are perfect for this sickly pathetic boye!!!!!!!!!!!! his mussy tousled hair!!!!! i could look at this forever WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

but on another note, headcanon is now CANON *slams gavel*

you are absolutely right that he fucking sucks at tying ties. somebody please help him

#ask #yandere oc #Kuuya posting #my art #merrowconstellations #thank you so much for your fanart...i owe you my life #ue ue ue (soung of crying)

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colorfuldragons · 7 months

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dungeon meshi characters, but as flight rising dragons

𝟣. laios touden: beige/antique/antique

2. marcille donato: caribbean/flaxen/ruby

3. chilchuck tims: auburn/camo/beige

4. senshi of izganda: coal/oilslick/latte

5. izutsumi: obsidian/obsidian/white

6. falin touden: iris/antique/antique

spoiler scry + design notes under the read-more:

7. falin (chimera): vermillion/antique/antique

———————

i had been meaning to scry/post the dungeon meshi main cast for a while. i figured in honor of the manga's final chapter would be a good occasion

design notes:

𝟣. laios touden:

outfit inspired by fr user Rafale's laios fandragon

ravenskull broadsword bc it has wings like his sword

tundra + antique secondary/tert, like falin (siblings)

2. marcille donato:

ruby runes to represent: her magic, her red hair bow, bloody hands when she was resurrecting falin

will o' the ember for her explosion spells

iridescent primary for her elven heritage + penchant of fancy things

3. chilchuck tims:

veined tert to represent his greying hairs

i debated between the gambeson (closer texture) VS tanned rogue vest (overall closer colors) for him, but ended up going for the gambeson as it feels more distinct

camo secondary for a "camo = stealthy" joke

[edit: 1 feb 2024] i think my screen had the Flux settings too high before and i thought his shirt was beige. its actually white, so i changed his shirt from a shabby to classy dress shirt.

4. senshi of izganda:

bamboo dried tea to represent his cooking supplies

unfortunately none of the helm apparel had the right colors for his helmet, so i opted for tan okapi to represent his helm's horn colors

i wanted to include the iron shield apparel for his adamantine shield/pot, but it wouldve covered up his kilt, so i left it out

[edit: 1 feb 2024] changed primary from ribbon to chrysocolla, an earthy gene to match his past as a miner. changed tert color slightly to match better. also gave him carrots

5. izutsumi:

initially i tried nocturne and spiral, but the armour pieces looked too short on them, so i ended up going for mirror instead

i also tried the tanned rogue apparels, but they covered up too much of the torso

wooly antennae for her ears

6. falin touden:

marshlurker's drape to represent her coat, bc there wasnt a lot of suitable coats, and the more purple-y hue (and hat) also references her debut outfit

sparkle tert to represent her magic

tundra + antique secondary/tert, like laios (siblings)

[edit: 1 feb 2024] edited her primary to be more purplish, since the animes confirmed her coat is supposed to be more indigo colored, and gave her browner boots. also edited her reference photo coat color to match it too

7. falin (chimera):

i chose to make the touden siblings both tundras, so that chimera falin could be a gaoler (based on the joke gaolers are just tundra 2.0)

spirit secondary bc she haunts the narrative

if youve made it to here, feel free to comment which fandragon scry is your fav! :)

#dungeon meshi #flight rising #laios touden #marcille donato #chilchuck #senshi of izganda #izutsumi #falin touden #scrying workshop #dressing room #fandom scries

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shinyfire-0 · 3 months

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Places from The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux

I ended up visiting several places mentioned in The Phantom of the Opera last summer. I found myself on a strange little pilgrimage...

The Paris opera house - the Palais Garnier

La Madeleine - the church in Paris where Erik fantasised about getting married to Christine and playing his nuptial mass on the really big organ

The beach at Trestraou - where Christine's red scarf flew into the sea and

The church at Perros Guirec - where Raoul had his crazy night seeing Christine worshipping the mysterious violinist playing 'The Resurrection of Lazarus'

All links to other posts on tumblr with my photos of these places

#phantom of the opera #poto #erik #erik x christine #gaston leroux #le fantôme de l'opéra #scenes from poto

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obey-me-disaster · 10 months

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What do you think would happen if MC respawns at a different location after the lesson 16 death? Like purgatory hall then MC somehow convinces Simeon, Luke, Solomon, Diavolo and Barbatos to hide their resurrection from the brothers. MC stays at purgatory hall and takes online classes for the rest of the exchange program.

The whole time the brothers think MC is permanently dead but what if MC slips up and accidentally likes a selfie by Asmo on devilgram would that raise any suspicion? How would the brothers react to MC being alive the whole time?

Please, MC liking selfies while pretending to be dead is so fucking funny like: 'I need to keep a low profile...anyway let me appreciate one of Asmo's photos on devilgram, where all the demon bros could see'

Warning: mentions of death

Demon brothers x gn!MC headcanons

MC hides the fact that they are alive

They don't know exactly what happened after Belphegor got them. All they could remember was pain, a voice talking into their head and then complete darkness. When they woke up they were in the Purgatory Hall with Simeon, Solomon and Luke surrounding them.

While not being able to remember the last moments before blacking out, MC was smart enough to put two and two together and realize what happened. Belphegor killed them. After everything they have done for him, he took their life away without hesitating.

When Solomon and Simeon started to question them, MC decided to keep the truth away. They made up an excuse about needing to hide somewhere, and the two angels and the sorcerer were all to happy to let MC stay with them.

Their plan was to stay hidden until the exchange program would end, but of course old habits die hard, so without thinking too much they liked one of Asmo's posts. That's when all the demon brothers found out and all hell broke loose.

Lucifer

He would be furious at MC for hiding themself, tho he can't blame them, at the Purgatory trio, Diavolo and Barbatos for helping them keep the secret but most importantly, he would be upset with himself.

He would fly straight to the purgatory hall and demand some explanation. Why did they hide, why couldn't they talk with him. He keep thinking of the fact that if MC didn't slip and post that selfie, he would have never found out they were alive.

A part of himself greatly blames himself because if he would have put more effort in keeping them out of the attic, none of this would have happened, hell, if he was a good brother from the start everything would have been ok.

On the outside he seems angry but on the inside he is full of mixed emotions: happiness because they're alive, sadness because MC hid this from him, anger at the others for hiding this from him. He doesn't even want to think about the fact that if Asmo didn't see their like, that he would have never been reunited with them.

He will have a long talk with MC, whatever they want to or not.

Mammon

THIS MAN IS CRUSHED. He thought MC has died. He held their 'corpse' in his arms. He has been a shadow of who he was all of this time only to find out that MC has been chilling in the Purgatory Hall??

He might not visit them for a while. He is way too conflicted. He is in denial about the fact that they hid this secret away from him. He was their first man, you two weren't supposed to hold this kind of secrets from one another.

He would probably go on about: "I am not friends with any humans that would lie to me like that, I don't know anyone like that!" flashbacks to season 1 of the OG obey me

He has been blaming himself for not being able to protect them this whole time. He probably had nightmares about their death.

Once he sees them he will have to hold himself back from rushing to them and embracing them. He still wants to put up a front, but when the front finally cracks and hugs them, he will be all to relieved to feel them be alive once again in his arms.

Leviathan

His self hatred went through the roof. He would keep blaming himself for not doing anything. He didn't get to hold them in their dying moments, all he could do is watch. He felt like he truly lost the only person that could fully understand him.

When he found out they were alive he nearly rushed to the Purgatory Hall but stopped himself. If MC hid themself from him that means they don't want to see him right? They are disappointed in him for letting them die.

He spirals down so bad other brothers had to snap him out of it. He would probably send them messages or call them while crying. He didn't feel quite ready to face them yet.

He probably will watch anime/play games from a distance with them for a while. He wants to go see them so badly but fears they would be disappointed in him.

After a while he would probably hype himself with some 'The lord of shadows would never leave his Henry behind'.

Satan

He throws a little temper tantrum that destroys multiple rooms in the House of Lamentation. There are way too many emotions for him to deal with it at the same time to the point he feels like exploding.

He has felt useless ever since their 'death'. He could see the condition MC was in, he could see that they had no way to live, he could see all the injuries and knew how much they hurt but even with all of that, he could not think of a way to save them. All the learning and reading was for nothing in that moment.

He probably knew that MC had good reasons to remain 'dead' but it didn't mean he was not hurt. If it wasn't for them liking Asmo's post by accident they would have went back to the human world, never to be seen again.

Another one that waits a little bit, but that's because he wants to be as calm as possible, they had to deal with an angry demon, he is sure they don't want to deal with another.

Once he finally decides to see them, he takes them on a walk to talk things through. Only if they want to of course

During their walk he will insist of having a detailed talk about how both of them they were feeling, there was no more wrath he could feel at the moment

Asmodeus

The moment he saw MC liking his post he went wild. He probably started to text them like crazy. If they didn't respond he would call Solomon, Simeon, Barbatos, anyone he could think of.

He ran straight to his brothers to tell them about the fact that MC was alive and was probably one of the firsts that went to see them.

Once he found out they were alive it was like something awakened inside of him and he felt all the longing he held towards MC come back in full force.

After telling his brothers he is going to the Purgatory Hall to see MC and scream at Solomon for hiding something so big from him.

He 100% cries to MC about missing them and does not care his make up will be ruined.

Since his brothers need more time to calm down, he will take his sweet time catching up with MC and checking in on how they are doing if they will let him

Beelzebub

Another one with a lot of guilt. He couldn't protect Lilith from death, he couldn't protect Belphie from his hatred and he couldn't protect MC either.

He is hurt by the fact that they've decided to hide from everyone at the House of Lamentation but he can't hold it against them

One of the first to go see them. He wants to see with his own eyes that they are truly alive and well, or as well as they could be after dying

Would try to hug them but stops himself thinking it would be a bad idea. The last time a demon has offered MC a hug they got unalived. If MC does accept his hug, they will be carried around for a while since Beel would refuse to let them out of his grasp

He had been guilt-ridden since their 'death'. His eating habits have been all over the place. From not being able to eat to going on rampages due to painful emptiness in his stomach. Just seeing MC being alive made Beel's hunger go back to its normal self.

Belphegor

Because not only did the bros think MC was dead for good but because MC was not there to repair his relationship with his brothers, Belphegor is pretty much secluded from his brothers.

Barbatos probably still told him about the whole Lilith thing. He had to deal with the fact that not only was his hate misplaced for centuries but also with the fact that he killed someone he really got attached with, someone his brothers got attached with.

He had no one to blame but himself this time, had no one to help him manage all of these feelings, he pretty much is on his own. Sure, his brothers are still there but their relationship is strained as fuck.

When he finds out MC is actually alive he does see it as his chance to make it better but he doesn't go to see them. Not straight away at least. He is smart, he knows why they probably wanted to remain 'dead'. He is the reason for that.

He will give them time, he will let his brothers have their turn first, even if he doesn't like it, because he knows that's the least he could do for all of them. He only wishes he was not so blinded by anger and resentment, especially since it was so misplaced.

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bao3bei4 · 5 months

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why zines? how zines?

i was on a panel at fanworks con 2023 about zines today. it was a lot of fun! i decided to turn my portion of the talk into a post for my friends who couldn’t make it to the panel.

this post includes my thoughts on:

why make a zine

how to generate ideas for zines

how to finish your zines

how to build an audience for your zines

so why zines? what are they? [ZEENS, rhymes with beans], pronounced that way because it’s a shortened form of the word magazine, are basically just that: self published magazines. but why make a zine over, say, a blog post? or any other piece of art.

i have basically three reasons. the first is that making little books is cool. it’s genuinely awesome to make physical zines and have the product of your labor in your hand. it’s a great feeling to finish a project and feel a concrete reward, and a lot of times we don’t get that in our lives.

the second reason is that zines give you absolute editorial control. you can put anything you want on a page. whatever layout, whatever order, whatever fold, whatever content. you name it, you can do it. this is something other venues rarely give you. for artists, it’s phenomenal. and for the rest of us, it gives us the ability to become artists for a little bit, as we lay things out.

the third reason is that zines can be absolute shit. in fact, the more shit they are, the more diy and punk they are. they have an incredible lineage of stolen copy paper and anarchist politics. all that to say, is that there are no standards. the zine ethos is say what you wanna say. it’s tremendously freeing to go fuck polish and respectability, i’m making my project.

because of these three reasons, i want to encourage you to get started making zines by describing common challenges and worries and giving you several practical tips for each on working past them. so, in order, they’re “i don’t know what to make a zine about,” “i struggle to finish projects,” and “no one will read my zines.” let’s get into it.

first up, “i don’t know what to make a zine about.” i think this one is pretty common, even for experienced zine creators. sometimes you’re in the mood to make things but you have no clue what. a lot of people suggest to just go with random words or whatever pops into your head, but i’m picky! i find that unsatisfying! so here are some tips for people in the same boat.

ONE: what’s distracting you? work with it. because anything can be a zine, let the things you’ve already done serve as inspiration. photos you’ve taken can be formatted into a zine. is there a game sucking up your attention? make a zine about it. the song stuck in your head can turn into a lyricbook, forgotten works in progress or sketches can be resurrected, cannibalized, or even published as incomplete zines. if you’ve been busy with real life, maybe the recipes you’ve been making—even if, especially if, they’re struggle meals, can turn into zines. interview your most interesting friend. summarize a book you read recently. even if you’ve just been doomscrolling, that’s a zine too! i got a zine last weekend called bay area newsreel which was collecting recent articles about local news from leftist perspectives gathered up into a handy volume. your attention is a gift, so look at what zine fodder it’s accumulated for you naturally.

SECOND: add a twist. sometimes i have an idea but it isn’t quite right. it just seems too straightforward. so i try to develop along a single axis of content or form. what this means is basically go against your instincts, or rather, your first impulse. that first idea is very hard to walk away from, but doing so often gives you an idea that gets you unstuck. so for content, add a different perspective. for me this is often a theoretical approach. when i was stuck on my scum villain zine, turning it into freud zine let the words start flowing. next, on form: present it differently than your first instinct is to. if my first thought is “essay,” i try to figure out how to chunk out the information into modules or how to add interactivity or what kind of illustrations to add. if my first thought is “this could be a fic or comic,” i try turning it into an essay. saying things a different way often gives you a new perspective on the content as well.

THIRD: copy! make your take on the same thing as someone else. it’s not stealing—well, ideally it isn’t. make your original take and give credit where credit is due and ask permission if necessary. but engage with the medium!!! making zines without reading zines is the same thing as trying to write a paper without citing sources, or a novel without reading your contemporaries. that is, you can do it, but it’s hard. zines are a genre into themselves so figure out how to situate yourself in their ongoing dialogue. an example of this from my own practice is that i own a zine about queer gods and mythological creatures from chinese history. reading it i was like. why don’t they talk about this. why don’t they talk about that. and that became the basis for my own zine, guaitai the strange and the queer which focused on queer chinese history and literature instead. different zine, same inspiration.

all of my ideas suppose you have SOMETHING going on. what if you truly have nothing. my advice? adapted from my “how to write an essay” blog post, is to read a book. read an article. read something. and then post about it. and then turn your posts into a zine. don’t start entirely from scratch — give yourself a scaffolding. so first. read something and tell someone about it. i wasn’t lying about calling myself a consummate poster. it’s a big part of my thought process.

second up, what if “i struggle to finish projects.” i’m no stranger to having a bunch of half finished half started projects lying around. but here are some zine-specific tips i have for addressing that.

FIRST! go smaller; go shittier. reduce the scope of your projects. make one pagers, lists. once when i was feeling stymied, i made a physical zine about movies i’d watched that month, just listing them with a couple bullet points on each film. i eventually turned it into a bigger digital zine where i listed movies i’d watched over the past several months with more thoughts on them, and nicely formatted. but that was something that came out of reducing my scope from “i need to write a manifesto on a movie i’ve watched recently” to “well i can just tell people about it” to “i can say two things about it.” and something actually got finished.

SECOND. your friends are a great tool for accountability. something i like to do is zine jams with my friends. nothing fancy, it’s just we’ll sit down for an hour and go we’re going to make something in this hour. or, for a bigger scope, we might work separately but commit to making a zine that weekend. it’s nice to have community and it’s nice to feel a little bit of a friendly deadline. i recommend this even if you DON’T have problems finishing zines. it’s a good time.

THIRD. a lot of times if the words aren’t coming easily, it’s because i’m not trying to say the right thing. keep in mind that your zines don’t have to be “content.” this little paper zine i made about movies wasn’t made to share online; in fact, it’s not available online. i didn’t make it according to what other people would see or be interested in. you can and will burn out on making “marketable” content. corollary to this: sometimes what i have to say is something i DON’T want to share online. it might not be that it’s boring, it might be that it’s too personal. and i share a lot online, i write personal essays after all. but some projects i stall on because they’re really just for me, and i’m again, focused on making content. so this piece of advice is about rejecting the tyranny of the imaginary audience.

and the next challenge is about embracing that audience! what if no one reads your zines, something that’s entirely possible. well there’s plenty you can do about that.

FIRST. cultivate zine community. read other people’s zines! talk to them about their zines! this greatly increases the chance that they will do the same for you. don’t go in expecting reciprocity; do it for its own sake, but it’s a great place to start. try asking people at zine fests if they’d be willing to trade with you, for instance.

SECOND. write for yourself. it’s cheesy but it’s true. you really have to. if you’re not proud and happy with what you’re making on its own merits, what’s the point. now because this is a cop out tip, i’m not counting it as a tip on its own.

so SECOND PART TWO. make your zines more accessible. if they’re not free, make them free—yes, you deserve to be compensated for your work, but it’s up to you to decide if you want a bigger audience first. if your zines aren’t short, make them shorter. make them short enough that you can post their entirety on social media or something else easy for your audience to consume. it’s a big ask sometimes to get someone to download your pdf! if they’re physical, hand them out to people you meet. remove all the barriers to entry.

THIRD. related to this, change medium. if you’re not making physical zines, try printing them out. if you’re not making digital zines, try digitizing them. both of these offer access to new audiences and new people who might be more interested in one form than another.

i hope these thoughts encourage you to make a zine! if you do, please let me see it. i love reading zines.

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ginnsbaker · 1 year

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In Flames I Sleep Soundly (2/2)

Chapter Summary: The aftermath.

Word Count: 9k+

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Chapter Warnings: Angst, Non-graphic depictions of violence

Author’s Note: Thank you for your patience, I hope... I don't know what I hope. I'm just grateful that you guys took the time to read this piece and leave comments in my inbox. I do have more to say later, but for now I just needed to post this.

Let me know if you have some questions or clarifications. (yes, I wrote this sentence after sending a work email)

AO3 / Part One / Masterlist

Part Two

You’ve always thought that life is like a train ride.

And as a passenger, you know only two things: the direction of the course and its scheduled stops. And so, it’s like this: get born into the world, take your first steps, go to elementary school, go to high school, go to college, get a job, get married, have children, have grandchildren, and then die in your sleep. If there’s an afterlife, perhaps get resurrected into a young version of you, and move into another train. And then begin another journey.

But what the passenger doesn’t know is that a train can only move forward when it’s on its rails. And this is where the helplessness of every individual in that train becomes apparent. Your life–or at least how you want it to go–is not entirely in your hands.

For you, a single phone call managed to completely derail your train from its tracks. And then, as if still unsatisfied, it plucked you violently from it and left you on your own in the middle of nowhere.

You didn’t know where to go, only where you’ve been. Like a diamond blade that cuts through steel, it segmented your life into just two parts: Before and After.

Before was going home to your wife after a tedious day, resting your head on her lap while she threads her fingers through your hair.

After is knowing those same delicate fingers raked through someone else’s tufts of blonde in throes of passion.

Before was her telling you she loves you and feeling it to your bones.

After is her telling you she loves you and only hearing a lie.

Split in the middle, you presume you can simply choose to live in one or the other.

***

“Love’s a fucking bitch.”

Inside your car, you’ve been quiet the whole time, just staring at the photos in Natasha’s phone. You stare at Wanda walking out of the theater, hand-in-hand with a tall, lanky man you don’t recognize.

“His name is Victor Shade. Goes by ‘Vision’. The only son of a high-profile neurosurgeon on the East Coast.” Natasha tells you, eyeing you closely.

You brush your thumb against the image of the laughing woman in the picture. She wore your wife’s face and smile, but all you see is a stranger.

“What are you going to do?” Natasha asks.

Briefly, you consider this could all just be a prank. Maybe Wanda is watching you fall apart right now, giggling in hiding because she got you this time. At least it’s the sort of cruelty you’d fight over for a day or maybe a week, and then laugh about in ten years.

“Y/N?” Natasha tries again.

You finally look up at her and immediately hate the look of pity on your best friend’s face.

“I don’t even know where I’m sleeping tonight.” you say, handing back her phone.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. You should talk to Wanda.”

The laugh that bubbles up your throat is nothing short of deranged. For almost a minute, you laugh into your steering wheel until tears begin to prick at the corner of your eyes. Natasha watches you with a worried expression, her hand hovering over your back hesitantly. She thinks about the beautiful person she met in kindergarten, the girl who gave her own blue crayon so Natasha could color the sky properly while she was left to color hers with a red one. It hurts her to witness the light snuff out of the person who was her own light in her darkest moments. And when your laughter subsides into muffled sobs, she cries with you.

When you’re done, you systematically wipe the tears and snot off your face with the sleeve of your shirt. Natasha patiently waits for your next move.

“Did you get his address?” you ask with a surprisingly steady voice.

“Yes, apparently it’s in one of the luxurious apartments near the university.” Natasha says as she texts you the exact address.

“Good,” you say, then turn your attention to the empty roads ahead of you.

You lied when you had implied to Natasha that you didn’t know what you’re going to do.

***

A Victorian style of housing is unheard of in this part of New Jersey, but here you are, standing outside of one. His rental is on the second floor at the end of the street where a sports car is parked carelessly in its spacious garage–an august flex coming from a college kid. Wanda crosses your mind once again as you take in this grandiose lifestyle before you. Was it money that attracted her to him? You never pegged her for a gold-digger, but then again you also didn’t peg her for a cheating whore. You screw your eyes tightly shut at the unpleasant adjectives you now associate with your wife as you lose some of yourself in the process. There’s something frightening and unfamiliar threatening to consume your entire being, and you have no clue what to do with it.

With a deep breath, you walk to his doorstep and ring the doorbell. A few moments later, you jerk in surprise as the door swings wide open towards you, the lock stile of the wooden panel narrowly missing your forehead.

“Sorry, I keep meaning to get that fixed and it’s easier to push,” A man in his early twenties with yellow blonde hair comes into sight.

“Can I help you?” he asks.

You have to tilt your head back slightly in order to meet his cerulean eyes.

“You’re Vision?” you ask.

“Actually, it’s Victor Shade. But yes, everyone calls me Vision.”

“How old are you?”

Vision shuffles his feet, uncertain if he should answer your question. It’s rhetorical of course, a question you didn’t mean to actually come out of your mouth. You could guess–but truthfully, you’d rather not now.

“Who are you?”

“Y/N Maximoff.”

He raises his eyebrows quizzically, your name not ringing a bell.

“Wanda’s wife.” you supplement domineeringly, as if declaring it would stake your claim on her once and for all. He drops his gaze at the mention of your wife’s name, like a child that has been caught doing something he shouldn’t. It doesn’t matter that he’s at least half a foot taller than you are. He isn’t quite a man. Not to you.

“May I–May I come in?” you ask as politely as you could.

After a second of doubt he smirks, and then says, “Sure.” You can sense the shift in his stance. He knows you’re onto him, and this is a showdown. Like any Alpha male scrambling to be on top of the food chain, he finds you to be an exciting piece of challenge. It makes you wonder if he was looking forward to this moment as much as you were dreading it.

You didn’t notice before that he’s barely covering his naked torso with a peacoat, and you try not to think about what brought on his current state. If by chance, you had just narrowly missed one of your wife’s regular visits.

Once you’re inside his apartment, you immediately scan your surroundings. There are papers and books scattered all over the floor. You can make out a thin trail of smoke coming from an unfinished cigarette in his living room, where the couch is covered by a tarpaulin smeared with ink and acrylic paint.

On an easel beside it is a painting covered by a dirty towel you assume he’s been working on before being disrupted by your presence. “Can I look?” you point at it.

“No. Sorry,” he says, before taking the painting from the easel and bringing it to his room. “It’s not done yet. An artist’s rule.”

You nod, and then noticing the only thing that he has organized, you say, “Nice vinyl collection.”

“Thanks.”

You stare at each other for long seconds. It feels ridiculous to expect an apology from him, but it’s something you think you deserved at the minimum.

“So, tell me. How did you meet my wife?” you ask when it becomes apparent that he doesn’t have any intention to be an active participant in this meeting.

“Art History 101. I’m one of her–”

“Students.” You complete his sentence with a grimace. Somehow that just makes things more fucked up than they already are. Jesus fucking Christ, Wanda, you curse in thought. Yet in a twisted way, it also kind of makes sense now. What they have is the stuff of sexual fantasies–a goddamned kink show is what it is. You’d never guess she’s capable of this.

“Yeah, and she was really knowledgeable in the subject. Not to mention, a natural teacher. Everybody in the class was awestruck by her.” Vision continues to talk about Wanda as though he’s talking about her to a person who didn’t know her down to the ground. You don’t need to be told how spectacular your wife is. You knew better than anyone. How dare he?

“How’s it going?” You cut him off before he could accidentally trigger something fatal inside of you.

He looks at you, bewildered at the random question. He waits for the punchline that never comes, and then chuckles, “It’s been swell.”

“This is where you meet?” you ask.

“Yes.”

“And she likes it?” You mean this place that looks like it’s been ransacked ten times over.

“Well, I guess. She never complained.” he says, and then cowers at the dirty look you throw his way at his callous comment.

“Do you stay in all the time or do you go out too?” you ask.

“It depends. We actually like to drive to new places in and out of town. Especially in the first week since she’s never ridden a convertible.”

“She likes that? She likes…aimless drives with no particular destinations?”

“Oh, yeah. More exciting than being stuck in a routine, I guess.”

It’s an obvious jab at a lifestyle he thinks you saddled Wanda with.

Heat rises to your cheeks and you walk closer to him. “Did you know that we’ve been married for five years? And before then together for six?”

That you have a dog. Plans to have kids in the future. Plans to retire in a beachfront property. The rest of your lives together. Does all that mean nothing?

“I know,” Vision replies, his tone devoid of any sign that he might be sorry for fucking a married woman. “She also told me you asked to move here because of your banking aspirations.”

“My aspirations? You…talk about me?” You manage to blurt out incredulously. Vision shrugs at that, and actually regards you with mild concern when you start blinking rapidly behind your glasses. You can hear your heart hammering in your chest as all the blood in your body suddenly rushes to your head.

He doesn’t answer “Would you like a drink?”

“Yeah, why not.” you say and lean against the closest wall to you for support.

“I have water, orange juice…”

“Got anything stronger?”

“I think I have some vodka left.” Vision mutters and then disappears into the kitchen. You take his absence as an opportunity to sneak into his bedroom. It’s smaller than you’ve imagined. A huge mirror is hanging across the foot of the bed and you instantly know what it’s for.

Is this where it all happens? Where they happen? Did they watch themselves fuck? Did Wanda watch herself fuck someone who isn’t you and felt guilty about it?

Did she think about you at all?

You sit on the mattress and stroke its silky sheets with shaking fingers. The bed is unmade, and you know there’s evidence on them if you try to look for it.

A framed painting peeking out from his dresser takes your attention. You walk over to it and pull it out of its hiding.

Your eyes go round in recognition. It’s the painting Wanda asked you to retrieve in Soho. You turn the painting over and discover a small piece of paper plastered on it.

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

You crumple the note tightly in your fist. Suddenly, all of it becomes more real than you can envisage: on a Tuesday morning, you’re perched on the exact spot your wife’s been betraying you over and over. You can almost smell Wanda from where you’re sitting–can feel her damp, soft skin, can hear her little sighs as she catches her breath.

You’re not prepared for the overwhelming rage that consumes you next, as you abruptly get up and walk the small distance to the kitchen.

You come to thirty seconds later, to broken pieces of porcelain and an unconscious man lying on a puddle of blood on the floor.

Your first instinct is to call Natasha. She picks up on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Nat,” you say in a rush. “I need your help. I-I didn’t mean to–”

“Hey, hey. Slow down. What happened?”

“I’m at Vision’s. I did a horrible thing a-and I’m so sorry, Nat, I–”

“Focus, Y/N,” Natasha’s voice is eerily collected. “Is he still alive?”

You scramble to place your index and middle finger on his neck, and let out a sigh of relief once you find what you’re looking for.

“I got a pulse. Should I call 911?”

“Don’t, I’ll handle this. Just grab a towel and wrap it around something cold like frozen vegetables or ice, then apply it gently to the area of the injury.” Natasha says.

You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment to absorb the instruction. Getting a grasp of the situation has started to feel like an impossible task.

“Did you hear what I say?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” Natasha says. “You’ll be fine, okay? I’m on my way.”

And then she’s gone. And you’re left to deal with the vestiges of your crime. You have no idea how much longer Vision will have a pulse. You try to do what Natasha told you to, but you find yourself unable to move a limb, stuck in the loop of wanting him dead and wanting to do what is right.

That is, until you hear the familiar tone of a message notification. It came from the rear pocket of Vision’s bloodstained cargo pants. You fall to the floor and dig out his phone. To unlock it, you take his cold hand and press his thumb against its screen.

There’s a new voice message from a certain ‘W’ in his contacts.

Wanda.

You hit play.

“I hate to do this here,” Wanda’s voice is tremulous and you can easily tell that she’s been crying. “But this is the only way I can trust myself to go through with this decision. This needs to end. I can’t live like this. I’m tired of lying and hurting Y/N. She’s my family. Whether you believe it or not, she’s everything to me. I’m sorry. And I hope,” Wanda’s voice breaks on a choked sob. “I don’t know what I hope. I’m sorry.”

You listen to it again before making the decision to delete the message. You slip the device back into Vision’s pants.

Afterwards, you try to save his life.

***

Five Days After

You wake up with a start. The clock on the nightstand reads 4:34 A.M.

The dreams are more vivid now, and they have progressed to you jabbing a kitchen knife into Wanda’s chest as Vision takes her from behind.

In reality, Wanda is lying half-naked beside you, snoring softly. She looks like the Wanda from Before, but your mind knows better. You want to trace her outline with your eyes and your lips, as you’ve done countless times whenever you’d wake up first. You want to kiss her temple and whisper how you love her even if she can’t hear you. You want, and want, and want. But you know what she’s done and with what little dignity you have left, you don’t fall into the trap of your remaining feelings for her.

In reality, her ex-lover is in some hospital in New York with his family waiting for him to wake up.

The first two days were the hardest after finding out about your wife’s infidelity. Wanda could read you like an open book, but for some miracle she didn’t see past the calm demeanor you put forth. You still comment nice things about her cooking, hug her goodbye, kiss her good night.

And then the nightmare starts all over again the minute Wanda leaves the house. Because when she’s near you, you don’t have to wonder where she is or who she’s with. You don’t wonder if she notices the empty seat in her classroom that used to belong to Vision. You don’t wonder if there are another pair of eyes like his, looking at her intrepidly with desire. The longer you carry on with your life as if nothing’s happened, the more you realize how much of your existence the past several months were built on lies.

Maybe the wife next to you is no longer yours, but how do you reconcile that with the truth that you’re still hers?

“Y/N?” you hear Wanda speak as you get up from bed. “Where are you going?”

Wand hugs the comforter to her more securely. You want to scoff at her question.

“Going out for a run.” you say after a beat.

“Want me to come with?”

“No, thanks. Just go back to sleep.”

“Oh,” Wanda glances briefly at the time and then says, “It’s still too dark outside.”

You shrug. “So?”

“Could be dangerous, don’t you think?”

“It’s Westview,” you repeat the same thing she said to you the first night she came home late without calling. The night in which she probably fucked him for the first time. “What’s the worst that could happen to me?”

“Be careful.” she acquiesces softly. “Do you want anything for breakfast?”

“No.” you say, grabbing your running gear from the dresser.

Sparky tries to follow after you but you lock him in the bedroom with Wanda, and head out to change in the guest bedroom.

There’s a slight itch at the back of your throat and you’ve stopped sweating just a while ago. Nevertheless, your tired legs refuse to stop their strides as you reach your tenth mile, and end up in a deserted farmhouse where Natasha is waiting for you.

“He still hasn’t woken up,” Natasha announces, handing you a bottle of ice water. “And while I got rid of the paintings, we’re not out of the woods yet.”

You take a swig from it like someone who’s been left in the desert for days, before leaving just enough of the water to pour over your head.

“What do you mean?” you ask after you recover from your run.

“His family is suspicious. They refuse to believe it’s an accident. You should expect cops to visit your house soon. Don’t panic. I scrubbed that kid’s apartment, they won’t find any traces of you.”

“How many years are we looking at?”

“It’s too early to worry about that. We don’t even know if he’ll ever wake up.”

“If he doesn’t, then I’m a murder, Nat.” you say candidly, like you’ve already accepted the monster that you now see yourself to be. “If he does wake up, then it’s attempted murder. Again, how many years are we looking at?”

“Even if he dies, you’re not going to prison. I promise you.”

“I don’t need you to promise me anything. Just answer the question, Nat.”

“Up to twenty years in the state of New Jersey.”

It figures. Despite it being more than half the amount of years you’ve been alive, you deem it a short punishment for the years you’d be taking from the boy. In twenty years or less, you’d be stepping out of prison to live out the rest of your life, and Vision would still be six feet under and being mourned by his parents.

You look down at your dirty shoes, and say, “I see.”

Natasha puts her hands on your shoulders and ducks her head, trying to meet your eyes.

“You’re not going to prison. I won’t allow it.”

You step back and out of her hold.

“Now, about that other thing. I already contacted this lawyer who owes me big time. You’ll just have to pay 30% of her regular rate for the entire divorce process.”

You look at your best friend, considering it. You could give Natasha the go signal now to hire this lawyer, but in the end all you say is, “Thanks, Nat. For everything.” as you turn your back on her.

Natasha’s brows snap together. “Where are you going?”

“Home.” The word leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, knowing that for so many years ‘home’ was a person you felt the safest, a person who you could be with as you are. Wanda didn’t just cheat on you, she left you homeless. Home, in every sense, no longer exists.

“On foot?”

“Yup.”

“You’re being ridiculous. Just get in the car, I’ll drive you.”

But you’re already bouncing on your feet and moving in the other direction.

***

The next day, you sleep on your alarm again. It’s the second consecutive week you’re calling in sick late in the morning, and your immediate supervisor at work is understandably worried. He offers you take the rest of the week off, partly fearful for anyone at your branch catching whatever illness he assumes you have. Ironically, broken marriages are arguably endemic in this country. So perhaps, you really should stay away from people for a while.

The blinds were shut, so that as little light as possible dances through the gaps between them. You are encouraged to stay in bed by the lack of sunlight, but as your mind starts to wake up, something about the gloominess of the room urges you out of bed. It’s a Monday, so that means Wanda should be gone already. If you’re missing work, then you could make use of the time to think about your next course of action.

You’re halfway down the stairs when the sound of Wanda’s voice reaches your ears, making you stop in your tracks.

“This will be our little secret, okay? Y/N can’t find out.”

You nearly miss a ladder in your step at the implication of her words, only to see she’s speaking to your dog.

Wanda is sitting in the living room with Sparky who is thoroughly enjoying the morsel of cheese she’s feeding him with. If this was any other day before, you’d already be walking towards her to give her a morning kiss, and she’d complain that you didn’t brush your teeth long enough. You’d impishly lock her in your arms while you blow puffs of breath on her face, and she’d squirm and fight you off until the both of you are nothing but a blur of two idiots happy and in love.

“Wanda,” you blink at her in confusion. “Aren’t you late for your morning class?”

You watch Wanda’s eyes light up before she could spot you at the foot of the staircase.

“Hey, sleepyhead. Actually, I quit my job.” Wanda declares, wide-eyed, her green pools swimming in starry fervor that you almost squint.

“Since when?”

“Since today.” Wanda shrugs, and you can see that she was hoping for a different reaction and not the mild indifference that she’s currently getting from you.

“Why? Did something happen?” You ask as you pick up Sparky and bring him to the kitchen for a proper meal. You hate to see Wanda give up something she seemed so passionate about. But then you recall her recent affair with a student, and there’s really no telling where that passion was truly directed at.

“Honestly, I’ve been meaning to for some time.” she muses while playing with her wedding ring. You leave a generous amount of boiled chicken in his food tray, before moving to sit on the opposite end of the couch, conscious to put much distance between you and Wanda.

“For a while it looked like I finally found a worthwhile career that isn’t so ambitious,” Wanda says. You glower at her allusion that her prior dreams were too extravagant to come true. “But in the process, I also lost myself to it. I sort of left you behind, while you always brought me to every milestone of your achievement. And for that, I wanted to apologize.”

It’s the closest thing to a willing confession you’ll ever get from Wanda. Her quitting her position at the university is her way of burying this and moving on. Maybe it would’ve been better if you simply waited for your marriage to fix itself instead of snooping around for her secrets. You wish you weren’t so addicted to the truth. If grace exists in this world, then it comes in the form of ignorance to all of the things that bring so much suffering.

You’re thinking of something to say, but you’re afraid that the dam inside you will burst if you open your mouth.

“I’m sorry it took a while for me to really comprehend how I feel about you.”

“We’ve been married for years, Wanda,” you remind her in disbelief. “That’s something you should’ve comprehended fully before you decided to say yes to a life with me.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to say,” she hurries to explain. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. Please, Y/N, don’t get mad. Of course I know how I feel about you. I simply didn’t care to explore the magnitude of it, because I was complacent. And selfish.

“And when it comes down to it, you’re all that matters.” Wanda says and scoots closer to you. Then she takes your hand and kisses your knuckles. Your eyes close in their own accord, sighing at the contact. This might be the only thing that stops you from falling further apart. Even through the worst thing she's ever done to you, you crave to be this close to her.

Wanda tries to read into your thoughts, and then says, “I know, I know. Acta non verba.”

“What?” you ask distractedly.

“It’s what you always used to say back in college: deeds, not words. I’m going to show you. I’m going to make you feel how you make me feel.” she smiles at you tearily.

This isn’t how things are supposed to go. You’re to wait it out until the matter with Vision is resolved, and then serve her the divorce papers. She’s not supposed to declare her love for you and for those words to still have a substantial effect on you.

“Wanda, I–”

“Here,” Wanda retrieves a box from underneath the pillows and pushes them into your hands. “An advanced anniversary gift.”

You try to stop your hands from shaking as you stare at the box in your lap.

"Wanda, there's something we need to talk about."

"Later, baby. Please, just open it." Wanda says and you try not to cringe at the pet name.

You're about to pull the lid off when the doorbell rings and Sparky comes rushing to the door, yapping away.

"I'll get it." You mumble and yank your hand from Wanda's grasp. The haze in your head instantly clears up the moment you’re no longer touching her.

You open the door to two gentlemen in a dark suit. You remember Natasha’s warning yesterday, not really expecting them to show up this soon.

"Wanda Maximoff?"

"No, I'm her wife, Y/N. Can I help you?"

The taller one with blonde hair makes the introduction with, "I'm Detective Rogers and this is Detective Barnes.”

You wipe your hands on your pajamas before shaking their hand and inviting them to come in.

“We're here to ask your wife a few questions about Victor Shade." Rogers says.

You hesitantly glance back to Wanda who suddenly looks so stricken.

"They're here for you." you tell her.

"Mrs. Maximoff, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Rogers walks over to her and introduces himself and Barnes to her.

He gets on straightaway with the questions. “Where were you last Tuesday afternoon?"

"I was at work, attending a departmental meeting. Did something happen? Is something wrong?"

The two men look at each other. Then the shorter one, Barnes, says, "Your former student, Mr. Shade was involved in a serious accident."

Wanda gawks at their news. "I–I was told he dropped out of school for reasons that were not disclosed to me and the class. I had no idea. My god, that's... That's terrible."

“Yes, we’re aware. His family wanted the whole thing in the wraps in case it turned out to be more than just an accident.” Rogers explains with

“Why would they–” Wanda tries to ask but Barnes interrupts her abruptly.

"Were you close?" he asks.

He watches your wife as you do–closely, and observing every crease in her features that would give her away. But after months of lying, it's evident how she’s become so good at it.

“Uh, no,” Wanda shakes her head and smiles through her absolute lie. A strange feeling creeps at you at having to see your wife display such confidence in front of authorities. “I’m afraid there’s nothing I can share apart from how he performed in my class.”

Rogers and Barnes exchange even-handed looks again. Barnes glances at you briefly, before nodding at his partner to continue.

“Here’s the thing, Ma’m,” Rogers takes out a small notebook from his pocket and flips through it. “We found your name and contact in Mr. Shade’s call history. There are dozens of back and forth calls between you and him. This is actually the reason why we wanted to get in touch with you, because you’re the only one aside from a classmate of his that he’s spoken to for the entire semester. We want to know if he ever confided in you or if you knew someone he might have had a disagreement or altercation with.”

You can feel Barnes studying you again, but you refuse to meet his gaze, trying to keep your face as neutral as possible with just a tinge of curiosity.

Wanda remains unfazed and says, “We do communicate over the phone. But again, it’s strictly about his studies.”

“What about his studies?”

“He was having a hard time with his final project. It can be any form of art–a sculpture, a painting or maybe even a video, and they need to emulate their deepest and darkest desires to it. H-He needed my input every now and then.”

“Sounds quite a challenge,” Rogers mutters as he writes on his pad. “And have you seen his painting?”

“No. I highly discourage them from showing me their works in progress. Why?”

It’s Barnes who answers her this time. “There was no painting found in his apartment.”

“Oh, he must have kept it someplace else then.” Wanda says, more to herself.

They don’t comment on that.

“When did you see him last?” Rogers again.

“Monday of last week. He came in late to class. Anyway, it doesn’t matter.”

“May we ask why ‘it doesn’t matter’, Ma’m?”

“I no longer work at Westview Institute.”

“Really,” Rogers lifts an eyebrow, taken aback. “Since when?”

“This morning,” Wanda answers. “Personal reasons. You can talk to the dean for the details if you want.”

Rogers simply nods and scribbles on his pad some more.

“Have you ever been in his neighborhood? Ever been to his apartme–” He badgers on but you interrupt him.

“I think that’s enough,” you say with authority. “I don’t see what other questions could be relevant to your investigation, but my wife’s told you everything she knows.”

Barnes tries to protest but Rogers signals to him.

“Very well. Thank you both for your time.” Rogers says as you usher him and Barnes to the door.

“Wait!” Wanda yells, chest heaving. They both look over their shoulders, waiting. “Is he… is he okay?”

You catch the knowing smirk on Barnes, but it goes away as soon as Rogers warns him with a look.

You weren’t expecting she’d ask about him despite their obvious suspicions on what kind of relationship they had. It hurts you in a way that you can’t even begin to describe.

“Last we’ve heard he’s stable. But I’m afraid he’s still in a coma. For all we know he might never wake up. But let’s hope for the best, shall we?” Rogers says, and then with a polite nod, leaves with Barnes in tow.

“I, uh, I forgot that I need to formally file a resignation letter.” Wanda says after you close the door behind them. She frantically grabs her purse, all the while avoiding your gaze. She’s not appropriately dressed to go outside, but you don’t point it out to her as you continue to act the part of the oblivious spouse.

***

Wanda returns home three hours later. A nostalgic smile finds its way to the corners of her mouth, when she spots the note you left for her on the fridge.

Went to the park with Sparky, it says.

The post-it notes were a long-standing tradition. Sometimes you’d put one on her rearview mirror, something along the lines of “have a great day ahead, I love you” written, and Wanda would stick one on your lunchbox that said “don’t skip on the vegetables”.

And while she blames herself for your recent aloofness, she was hoping to remediate it on your anniversary. She already booked plane tickets to Hawaii and made reservations at a 5-star hotel. Your boss and probably the entire staff of your branch already knows about it, when she filed a week of vacation leave on your behalf. And then she put all the documentation and details of the trip in the box she gave you this morning.

She planned for everything, except the part where two cops showed up at her house to talk about Vision. Admittedly, he was another thing that was never a part of her plans. Wanda used to deride people who make mistakes, and when asked to explain, could only say ‘it just happened’. She’s heard it too many times in the past, mostly from her ex-boyfriends.

It just happened. There’s no better way to put it should you ever find out what she did. She wasn’t lonely or unsatisfied or neglected. The only struggle she could think of about her marriage is thinking about what to have for dinner, because you neither complain nor you ever know what you’re in the mood for.

In actual sense, her life was perfect. Because of you. Because you work for her happiness. The guilt eats at her everyday. But she knows what she’ll lose if she comes clean. And she can’t afford that. She’d rather confront her demons than risk losing you. She tells herself she can’t put you through this kind of pain.

Wanda pulls herself out of her thoughts. She needs to focus on you. She truly hopes Vision would make it, so he can go on to live his life and she’ll live hers with you.

Wanda pads through the bathroom to run herself a bath. While waiting for the tub to fill, she pensively walks around the bedroom, noting how the room still smells of you. That’s when she finds her gift on your work desk, next to your laptop. It’s still wrapped in a bow. Wanda frowns, wondering why you didn’t bother to open it.

All of a sudden, your laptop makes a sound. Acting on impulse, Wanda unlocks your computer with your password–her birthday–and then opens your email account.

There’s a new email from Natasha. The subject reads ‘in case you need them’.

An odd, overwhelming feeling consumes her, and without thinking, clicks on the email.

Wanda waits for the message to load with its attachments and then–

She freezes and her stomach drops.

***

About four pairs of couples attend your small dinner party that you have planned several weeks ago. Your boss, Scott Lang came with his wife and daughter all the way from New York just so he can, in his own words, ‘taste your wife’s famous Paprikash’. Wanda reminded you that you were hosting, and you had spent the rest of the day shopping for ingredients and red wine. She asked if you should cancel, but you figured an evening with seemingly elementary lives would do some good for the both of you.

And you’re right. It’s not a nuisance as you thought it’d be when you were roped into it. In view of the recent episodes that no doubt defined the lowest point of your life, it feels nice to experience a little normalcy in your home. Your introverted nature makes you a disastrous host to these events, but Wanda is the opposite–she’s a natural at hospitality. She’d go around and entertain people, exchange gossip, and make them take shots. She’d dance in the middle of the room, with that devil-may-care attitude of hers, attracting people to her like moths to flame. But at the end of the night, she’d go home to you and sleep in your arms, because she’s yours. As you and Wanda grew older, you became a more exclusive sort of couple. But on rare occasions like this one, Wanda would put on the old party hat while you’d watch her be the best part of it.

The only problem right now is that Wanda went away. Physically, she’s in the receiving room with everyone, nodding and smiling at whatever warrants a nod and a smile, but you can tell that her mind is off somewhere faraway.

“So, Y/N, what’s the first thing you wanna do in Maui aside from stuffing yourself with Poke bowls?” Scott asks.

“I’m sorry?” You tilt your head at him.

“You know, the…” he starts doing what looks like a hula dance, but you shake her head, still not getting any of it.

“Wait, what? Wanda hasn’t–” Scott looks at Wanda, in panic. “Oh, god, I didn’t mean to spoil it.”

Wanda’s been keeping to herself the entire night. And she’s been drinking a lot, the contents of her glass never quite reaching the bottom before it gets another refill.

“It’s fine, Scott.” Wanda says.

You look at Wanda expectantly, but she just studies her drink. Increasingly annoyed, Wanda downs the rest of her wine and then says, “I was planning to take us to Hawaii on our anniversary.”

“Oh, that’s… that’s pretty awesome.” you say.

Wanda huffs out a mirthless laugh, before standing up and telling everyone she’s going to take a nap.

“Good idea, dear. You’re looking puffy around the eyes.” Emma, another co-worker of yours that Wanda never really warmed up to, quips at her.

Wanda clenches her jaw tightly, but chooses not to engage.

You excuse yourself from the group and follow her out of the room. Wanda feels your presence behind her and spins to look at you for the first time tonight.

“I’m okay. Just go back to your friends.”

“They’re not my friends and you don’t look well.” you say.

“I just need a few minutes to myself,” Wanda offers you a smile, but it’s wobbly. “Please.”

You can’t deny her anything and you can’t stop caring about her. She heads to the stairs before you can utter another word.

***

After Wanda sees the last of the pairs to the door, she finds you in the bedroom with all the lights off. She can only make out your silhouette–shoulders hunched and perfectly still, while you look out the window to watch the couple trade playful kisses before getting in their car and driving off into the distance.

From your peripheral view, you watch Wanda approach you slowly, cautiously, like a hunter stalking its prey. It’s easy to guess that she already knows. She has her arms wrapped around herself as a defensive stance, probably afraid of what you might do to her. You nearly let out a laugh at the absurdity of it, because you don’t think you could ever hurt her the way she’s hurt you.

“What happened, Y/N?” she asks as she stops a few feet from where you’re standing.

“What did you do? Did you cause his ‘accident’?” she carries on with the questions despite your refusal to even acknowledge her existence.

“Y/N?” Her voice is frantic and presumptuously privileged.

You don’t owe her anything. Especially answers. Anger burns in your chest like a candle–fragile but with the potential to burn an entire field. You imagined the many ways she’d beg you when you discover each other’s skeletons in the closet. You imagined she’d be on her knees, clinging at your ankles, insisting she loves you and that it will never, ever happen again. You imagined you’d kiss her for one last time, right before you’d tell her that you’re done.

You hate yourself for allowing her to beat you to a confrontation. For coasting through this mess until Wanda takes the mantle of the interrogator herself. She gets to nag you with questions as if after weighing each other’s transgression, yours turned out to be worse than her cheating.

“Did you hurt him? You did, didn’t you? Jesus, Y/N. Talk to me,” Wanda pleads, and then out of desperation she screams, “Tell me what you did!”

“No. You tell me what you did.” you whisper menacingly, finally letting go of the restraints you placed yourself in for her sake.

You abruptly turn on your heel in her direction, and then stalk towards her in quick, menacing strides. Wanda cowers, but doesn’t yield. She stands her ground like the courageous heroine of her own movie.

“How you fucked him over and over and over! How you lied to me…” Your chin begins to tremble and your vision begins to blur. “...over and over and over.”

“Y/N, please–”

“Don’t. You don’t get to talk to me now.”

Wanda bites the inside of her cheek, the weight of her sin materializing in the form of your bared teeth and the vein pulsing in your neck and temple.

“You didn’t think I’d know? I wouldn’t feel it? I knew from the very first night. Because I know you, Wanda. Every thought. Every look. Every fiber of your being. I know you and I fucking hate you!” You hear yourself yell, as real as the wetness you feel running down your cheeks.

“I didn’t want to hurt him, I wanted to hurt you!”

“Oh my god,” Wanda sobs out in anguish, cupping a hand around her mouth. “Y/N…”

There was a time, from long before you were married to her, when loving her broke your heart more than it made it whole. You didn’t think it’d happen again, but even if it did, you thought you’d find a way. You’d always find a way for Wanda.

You were happy together, weren’t you? Before this happened, she never gave any indication that she wasn’t. She made plans with you. Five-year, ten-year plans that meant she wanted to continue being with you. In return, you gave it everything you have and more. You turned the dreams into blueprints, and from blueprints into milestones.

The arbitrary nature of her infidelity is what shocked you the most. It meant you couldn’t have done anything to prevent this. It wasn’t up to you. Love is a gamble and you’ve lost.

You’re both on the floor now. You, leaning against the side of the bed, and Wanda, hugging her knees to her chest as sobs continue to rack her body.

When both of you can breathe again, it’s Wanda who breaks the silence.

“I’m so sorry.”

As much as you need to hear it, an apology now is just a drop in the ocean. Wanda can’t unfuck Vision. You can’t un-crack his skull.

A thought suddenly occurs in your muddled brain.

“Was there anyone else aside from him?” you ask.

“No.”

“He must be really special then.”

She shakes her head furiously, denying it.

Against your better judgment, you ask the one thing that’s been plaguing you since you learned of her lover’s name. “Do you love him?”

“No,” Wanda mumbles without a second thought. “I thought I did, but no.”

She didn’t love him. But it still kills you to know that it definitely crossed her mind that she might’ve felt something for someone else.

“Did you…” You stare intently at the ceiling, willing gravity to pull back the tears threatening to fall from your eyes. “...ever love me?”

“I love you,” Wanda says, her voice low and trembling, though she dares to look you in the eye. “I know how fucked up that sounds to you right now. But I do, I love you, Y/N.”

“You know,” You wince at the way your voice falters. You’re so tired and dehydrated, and your head is starting to hurt. Your lips quirk up in a bitter half-smile. “You have such a lovely way of showing it.”

Wanda lets her legs slide straight in front of her as she openly weeps into her hands. Under different circumstances you’d be out the door right this second, getting all her favorite snacks and a bouquet of flowers. You have loved her for so long.

“You should’ve just killed me. I don’t see any difference. At least there’s no pain in being dead.” you say after some time.

“Baby, don’t say that.” Wanda hiccups, struggling to control the spasms in her chest.

“You don’t get to call me that anymore. Even hearing you say my name makes me sick.”

Wanda looks away, like she’s been slapped.

“You can stay,” you say, and Wanda looks up at you with hope. “In this house. For as long as you want. But I’m leaving.”

“No. Don’t leave.”

But you’re already pulling your wedding ring off your finger even as she rushes to kiss you roughly. Wanda pours everything in this one kiss. She has played all the cards she’s dealt with, and this is her final, desperate move.

As for you, you take it for what it is: a goodbye. It’s messy and salty, and everything anyone could ever hope for in a last kiss. When it’s over, Wanda ducks her head under your chin. She finds purchase in the area just above your heart, trying to commit to memory the rhythm of your heartbeat.

You don’t have it in you to push her away, but you take the hand of hers that’s still cupping your face, and put the cold metal that once symbolized your commitment to her, in her fevered palm. And then very gently, you force her fingers to close around it. Albeit the numbness in your legs, you manage to push yourself up into a standing position and out of Wanda’s grasp.

“This isn’t over. It can’t be over.” you hear Wanda speak, but you’re not sure if it’s to you or to herself.

Out in the hallway, you examine the finger where your wedding ring had been. It’s going to take some time before its mark on your skin completely fades away.

***

A Week Later

“He’s awake.”

Natasha sits across from you in the diner. She’s back in town to pick you up and drive you back to her condo in Manhattan, where you will be staying for a while until you find your own place.

You swallow and take a breath, poking at your scrambled eggs.

She’s wary of you–this zombie-esque version of you. And it’s not only apparent in your behavior, the gauntness of your cheek is more noticeable, and your clavicle more protruded. You look like you’ve aged ten years overnight in as little as two weeks.

“He doesn’t remember anything.” she adds and this gets your attention.

“How convenient.” you say.

“Look, Y/N. You don’t need to act tough around me. Because I can see right through every mask you have on. You want me to prove it? Let me prove it.”

“Nat, just–”

“You’re more relieved to know that he’s woken up, than him not remembering anything. You’re compassionate to a fault. There can’t be a purer soul than yours.”

Your best friend’s impassioned speech puts a small but genuine smile on your face. Natasha does a little victory dance with imaginary pompoms, and the laughter comes easily to you.

“I know I have no right to say this, nor do I really understand what you’re feeling right now. But, Y/N, someone will come along and take every broken piece of you back together. They will love you so hard, you’re gonna have to actually beg them to ease off.”

You humor her. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

In all honesty, it’s hard to think about the far-off future without the stinging reminder that Wanda is not in it. But as you sit idly in diner for a very late brunch–and might as well call it lunch–you realize that you’re not left entirely empty-handed. You have Natasha. You have the rest of your friends back in New York, although you haven’t talked to them much lately. You have your career that is getting a fresh start at a new company. Wanda has gotten custody of Sparky. As much as you love him, you have a feeling that she needs him more than you do.

The point is, you’ve already seen the bottom of the sea, and it’s time to break the surface.

“As much as I hate your wife…soon-to-be ex-wife… or whatever,” Natasha shoots daggers at someone behind you. “She’s here to talk to you.”

“Did she put you up to this?” you ask, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“She called me to collect a favor, and this is the best bargain we managed. She’s not going to contact me anymore after this.” Natasha says, and then she gets up from her seat and takes her plate of bacon and eggs to enjoy at another table.

You hear tentative footsteps approach the booth and brace yourself to face Wanda.

Much to your chagrin, she looks as immaculate as ever in her parka over a simple white v-neck and high-waisted jeans, her glossy red hair cascading in perfect waves past her chest.

“Hey,” she says and slides into the booth with you.

You take a huge bite of your Reuben sandwich. “Hi, Wanda.”

“Sorry for cornering you like this. You rarely return my calls and it’s been almost impossible to match our schedules.”

You concentrate on chewing your food, trying to appear perfectly disinterested in what she’s saying.

“Natasha told me you’re already talking to divorce lawyers,” Wanda pauses to catch your eye, and you see no traces of sharpness in them. Her green eyes are bright with determination. “If you’re decided that it’s what you really want, then I’ll give it to you. I’ll cooperate.”

You look at her from beneath your dark lashes. “Okay.”

Wanda swallows nervously and interlocks her fingers on top of the table. You can’t explain it, but your eyes automatically search for the wedding band in her left hand.

It’s still there.

“I, uh, got something for you.” she says.

“No, thanks.” you say.

“But it’s yours.” she argues softly, digging for something in her jacket. You watch her pull out a ring box and place it in front of you.

“What’s this?”

“Your wedding ring.” She says matter-of-factly.

“I don’t want–”

“I don’t care. I’m giving it back to you, and I’m keeping mine. You can do whatever you like with it. But I can’t keep it for you.”

You consider it momentarily, what she’s asking of you. In hindsight, it makes sense that she wouldn’t want to hold onto the residual love you have for her that the ring represents.

“Fine.” You reach for the small box and Wanda heaves a sigh.

“So, you have your ring back, and I’ll sign the divorce papers when they’re ready.” Wanda recites mechanically, her voice thinning towards the end of her sentence, as if she’s not at all prepared for what she needs to say to you next.

“Then, I’ll come for you.”

You almost spit out your coffee. Some of it actually dribbles past your lips and you quickly grab a napkin to wipe your mouth. She tenderly smiles at your little accident, finding your clumsiness endearing.

You gape at her, unable to think of a response.

“I didn’t want to believe you when you told me that night that you hated me. But I guess that’s better than indifference.” Wanda’s smile turns into a sad amusement at herself.

“I don’t hate you, Wanda,” It’s the truth. Even though anger is the only emotion you can process most days, you’ve only ever hated the way she makes you feel.

“You have no idea how much that means to me,” she laments. “Thank you.”

You can tell she has more to say and you wait.

“I’m not going to give up on you, Y/N. On us. What we have, and I’ve thought a lot about it, is something I’ll never find in another.” Wanda says, giving you a long, level look.

“I’m not telling you this to get a reaction out of you. I know you’re not exactly thrilled at the idea of me pursuing you, but,” she falters, the first sign of her vulnerability. “This time, I want you to know everything. I don’t want you to be blindsided by my intentions, so I’m giving you a heads-up.”

“Wands,” The nickname rolls off your tongue before you can stop it. “You can’t torture yourself like this.”

“I’m not,” she assures you. “I just refuse to give up on my dream.”

You’re my dream, Wanda had written in her vows. You remember it, clear as day.

Wanda gets up to leave. “I’ll see you soon.”

As soon as Wanda exits to her car, Natasha returns to the booth with a strawberry milkshake in hand.

“Is it over?” she asks offhandedly, referring to your conversation with Wanda.

You hesitate, then look at her with an unreadable expression on your face. You give her the only answer that feels right to you:

“For now.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x vision #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #ifiss #my writing #category: angst #natasha romanoff #marvel #elizabeth olsen

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katrotica · 15 days

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Ok, I've been slowly testing the waters on what's acceptable here on tumblr. In the early days when they lifted the nudity ban the restrictions were stronger. A pic like this would never have made it. I have a couple katrotica posters in the archive that only saw the light of day for a few minutes before tumblr cancelled them. Let's see how this goes... maybe it's time to resurrect them! I've posted Piper before, but last time was quite a bit... tamer? But I just had to. This photo is just so hot. Her body is sooooo beautiful and she has a quiet confidence that is just so damn sexy. Plus, she's drinking some sort of Pride beverage. Fingers crossed ya'll get to see this poster!

#piper quinn

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tonyspank · 7 months

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STAY READY (WHAT A LIFE)

"Here in this dimension, you and I are meant to be..."

Summary: In the year of 2075, in a futuristic world where soulmates are determined by their markings, you serve as a police officer in a high-tech city. However, there's more to your identity than meets the eye, and your superior, Hannah, has secrets to reveal.

Warnings: death, bit of angst, philosophy, rushed ending

A/N: had mixed emotions abt posting this, might delete bc idk how to feel, hope u guys enjoy

also wanted to post this bc i’ll be going in a little “writing vacay” basically not gonna be posting anything until i finish majority of my fics

In the year 2075, technology has advanced to unimaginable heights. Everything was futuristic, from self-driving cars and flying drones to holographic displays and virtual reality. There were some parts that still remained untouched by technology: the lower-class side of the city.

The side you passed to get home from work, was a stark contrast to the high-tech world that existed just a few blocks away. Brick buildings a few years away from crumbling away, littered streets, and dimly lit alleyways were the norm in the forgotten part of town.

The lower-class side of the city seemed frozen in time, trapped in an era that had long been left behind.

You felt similar, feeling as if you were frozen in time. Or even as if time had been in a loop, every day is the same, repeating the same routine over and over again. You had joined the police force when you turned 19.

You can't remember anything before that; it felt as if your childhood life was a blur. You had always wondered about your past, but there were no answers to be found.

There were barely any crimes due to the fact that cameras were everywhere, along with drones that could identify you in less than a second. The constant surveillance made it nearly impossible for anyone to get away with anything.

You still found a way to rank up, taking on additional responsibilities and becoming a respected member of the force. Your dedication and hard work did not go unnoticed, and you were eventually promoted to a leadership position within the police force.

"Y/LN." You raise your eyebrow, twisting your chair around toward the familiar voice. Standing in the doorway is your higher-up, Hannah, the Chief of Police. She has a stern expression on her face, waiting for you to address her.

You quickly stand up, walking over to her to see what the matter is. Hannah always had a stern expression on her face, even when she was in a good mood.

But this time, it felt different.

Hannah motions for you to follow her, leading you down the hallway towards the conference room. You follow behind Hannah with ease, dodging and weaving between the mix of androids and human officers bustling about the police station.

Entering the conference room, Hannah slaps the folder against the desk, causing a loud thud that echoes in the room. Her eyes bore into yours as she starts explaining the details of a confidential mission having to deal with the president and his late daughter.

"The sons of bitches actually made the serum..." Hannah mutters, taking a photo out of the folder and sliding it across the table towards you. The photo reveals a vial filled with a glowing blue liquid, labeled "Project Seraphim."

Project Seraphim, a top-secret government initiative, was aimed at resurrecting the president's daughter, who had tragically passed away. Ashely Redfield, the president's daughter and a young girl who never got to experience the fullness of life, was the inspiration behind Project Seraphim. The serum was meant to bring her back to life, offering a glimmer of hope to her grieving father.

"...years ago." Hannah finishes, clenching her jaw. "Dr. Murphy finished Project Seraphim and never informed anyone about its success. He kept it hidden, for what reason? I don't know. All I know is that you need to find him and get the serum. This came directly from the president, and you're the only one I trust to carry out this mission."

You eye the file on the desk, which contains all the information about Project Seraphim and Dr. Murphy's whereabouts. With a nod of your head, you agree, "Understood."

It was nighttime when you left the station, rain falling from the dark sky, the only thing lighting up the city being the neon signs and holograms flickering in the distance.

For the first time in years, you felt...overwhelmed. The weight of the mission and the responsibility entrusted to you by the president seemed to bear down on your shoulders. You continued to stroll through the rain-soaked streets, rolling up your sleeve slightly, revealing the mark on your forearm.

The mark was a symbol to show you had a soulmate out there. Your soulmate was supposed to have the same marking as your own, connecting the two of you in a deep and unbreakable bond.

It had always been a source of comfort and hope, knowing that somewhere in this vast city, your soulmate was waiting for you.

You run your hand over your marking, feeling the raised texture and tracing the intricate design. The feeling was soothing, even more so than the raindrops cascading down your skin, which seemed to echo the rhythm of your heartbeat, as if nature itself were in tune with the anticipation in your chest.

With a deep and long sigh, you cover up your marking, carrying on with your walk home.

Your routine has been broken. A figure stood at the edge of the bridge, which separated the two halves of your town. The figure's silhouette was illuminated by the dim streetlights, casting a shadow on the bridge's worn-out wooden planks.

You furrowed your eyebrows, breaking the cycle, and walking toward the figure, who seemed to not care about the rain that fell on them. Only a few feet away, you stood beside the now-revealed woman, who stared ahead, watching the small ripples forming in the river below.

She was gorgeous; more than gorgeous, she was enchanting, captivating even in the gloomy night. Her eyes held a hint of sadness, reflecting the weight of her thoughts. You couldn't help but be drawn to her mysterious aura, wondering what had brought her to this desolate bridge on such a rainy night.

Her lips began to curve in a small smile, and you had nearly missed the soft chuckle that escaped her lips. She turns to you, smiling softly, her eyes pouring into yours—eye contact that felt both intimate and unsettling. It was as if she could see right through you, unraveling the depths of your soul with just a glance.

You found yourself captivated by her gaze, unable to break free from the magnetic pull of her eyes. Then you heard her for the first time, your heartbeat racing more than it ever has before. Was this healthy?

"The rain can be quite therapeutic, wouldn't you agree?" Her voice was like a gentle melody, soothing yet mysterious. You feel the raindrops on your skin, cooling and cleansing, as if washing away the weight of the world. It's as if her words have a magical power, bringing a sense of calm and clarity to your troubled mind.

"Yes, it is," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, unable to tear your eyes away from her. The way she spoke and the way she looked at you made you feel like she could understand every hidden part of your being. She gives you another smile before turning her attention back to the river. "I'm Jenna if you were wondering."

"Y/N."

"I like watching the rain hit the water—seeing the ripples in the water as each raindrop creates its own unique pattern." Your eyes don't drift away from the woman, watching her side profile as she gazes out at the rain-soaked scenery.

"Even watching the raindrops that hit the dock is mesmerizing," she adds. "There are more than 200,000 raindrops that fall a minute, yet each one has its own individual impact on the world around us. People take rain for granted, complaining about how it ruins their plans or makes them wet, but they fail to appreciate the beauty and significance of each raindrop."

She continues, "Rain is essential for life, nourishing plants and hell even replenishing our water sources. It's a reminder of nature's power and the interconnectedness of all living things."

She turns back toward you, her eyes flickering with a sense of wonder. "Don't you kind of think we're like raindrops? Each of us may seem small and insignificant on our own, but together we have the power to create a ripple effect and make a difference in the world." She smiles as you stare at her, confused and intrigued by her analogy.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to get too philosophical there. It's just something I've been thinking about lately. But hey, maybe it's something worth pondering, right?" She chuckles, breaking the momentary silence between you two.

You break into a smile. "No, don't apologize. I actually love that analogy. It's a beautiful way to look at things." Jenna's smile increases, her eyes lighting up with appreciation. "I'm glad you think so," she replies.

"Sometimes, it's easy to feel like our actions don't matter in the grand scheme of things. But if we can believe that even the smallest acts of kindness or positive change can create a ripple effect, then maybe we can find the motivation to keep making a difference. Like you taking the time out of your night to listen to me," she whispers the last part, breaking the eye contact she's been holding and looking down at her hands.

You open your mouth to speak, but you're cut off by the angelic voice. "Thank you; it was really nice talking to you, but I have to go now."

Jenna walks away in a hurry, leaving you standing on the wooden bridge alone, feeling a mixture of confusion and gratitude. You watch her disappear into the distance, wondering what impact your conversation had on her.

It's been days since your mission and days since your conversation with Jenna. You find yourself replaying the conversation in your mind, trying to decipher any hidden meaning behind her words. The memory of her angelic voice and the intensity of the moment still linger, leaving you with a sense of longing to know if she's okay.

A knock is heard at your door, interrupting your thoughts. John, a fellow officer in your field, hands you a file with a frown on his face. "Homicide," he says, scratching his beard. "We've got a new case, and it's a messy one. I thought you should take a look."

You quickly skim through the file while John briefs you on the details. "A young girl in her 20s was found dead three days ago, but there's no sign of a fight nor any obvious cause of death. We have her body in the laboratory for further examination, but so far, the autopsy results have been inconclusive. It's like she just... died. No witnesses, no suspects, nothing. Her names—"

Jenna?

"—Jenna." Your heart drops, flipping back and forth between shock and disbelief. Jenna. The same Jenna you met on the bridge that night, and the same Jenna that is supposedly your soulmate.

The marking on her back is the same as the marking on your arm. You feel a chill run down your spine as you realize you met your soulmate that night. Only once you find out do you realize that she is now gone forever.

What could have happened to Jenna, and why did fate bring you together only to tear you apart so suddenly?

"Y/LN? You alright?" John mutters, snapping you out of your thoughts. You eye the officer, still lost in your own world.

No, you weren't going to let the only person who brought you happiness after such a long time slip away without a fight.

Without a word, you jump up from your chair, pushing past your co-workers and rushing out of the office. You were going to use that serum on Jenna, not the president's daughter.

You burst through the doors of the laboratory, Hannah standing there with a puzzled expression on her face. "Y/LN, what's going on?" she asks, you were the last person she expected to see bursting into the lab.

Ignoring her question, you turn to a worker at the lab and urgently ask, "Where is Jenna Ortega's body? I need to see her immediately." The worker looks taken aback by your sudden request but quickly directs you to the morgue.

You remember the room number, then return back to Hannah, bumping past her and into the room she had just exited, the serum had been held here until the president was able to make his way down to your city, fortunately, he had been too busy to visit the lab earlier.

The four-digit code that you set and remember with ease is punched into the safe, unlocking with a loud beep. You grab the blue serum, turning around, only to be met with a gun pointed at your face. The person holding the gun is none other than Hannah; her expression cold and determined.

"Damnit, Y/LN. Don't make me do this," she mumbles, taking the safety off her gun. "Who told you about Jenna, huh?" You freeze, your mind racing to figure out how Hannah found out about Jenna.

"You knew? You knew Jenna was my soulmate?" Your voice trembles as you try to comprehend the situation. Hannah pauses for a moment, her grip on the gun tightening. "I've known for a while now," she admits. "There's some things you don't understand. You have an old soul, and I like that about you."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" You grit, confusion, and anger bubbling up inside you. Hannah's eyes narrow, a flicker of sadness crossing her face.

"You're not human, Y/N. You're something more, something special. You were created by SynthoTech, a company that specializes in advanced artificial intelligence and genetic engineering. They designed you to possess enhanced abilities and a unique consciousness, and it was either to terminate you or let you work for the government.

You're unlike any other Android that's been created before. Your thoughts and emotions are not just programmed responses but rather a genuine experiences. You have the capacity to feel joy, love, and even pain.

It's both a gift and a burden as you navigate a world that may not fully understand or accept you. I don't know why Jenna was your soulmate; I really don't get it, but we couldn't let you get off your program. So I had to eliminate her."

Hannah lets out a sigh. "Fucking hell, Y/N. Just set down the serum and let's figure out a way to keep you safe. No one has to know about this, okay? I can reset your program--"

"No!" You interrupt, "I'm not going to let you erase my memories and reset me like some kind of...fuck...no. You killed Jenna, and now you want to erase her from my existence too? This is so fucked up."

"The world is a fucked up place, Y/LN. What do expect to happen if you inject Jenna with that serum? You think the president is gonna let an android and human have a happily ever after with the cure that was made for his daughter?"

You shake your head, anger and frustration coursing through you. "I didn't ask for any of this. I didn't ask to be part of some twisted experiment or to be caught in the middle of political agendas. Jenna deserved better than this, and so do I."

"And so did Ashely; Jenna got to live her life, but Ashely was robbed of that opportunity." You take a step closer to Hannah, your eyebrows furrowed together tightly.

"Do you fucking hear yourself? You also robbed Jenna of the opportunity to live her life. You killed her for something she couldn't control! You're a hypocrite."

Hannah's face pales as your words sink in. She takes a step back, her eyes filled with guilt and remorse. The weight of her actions finally dawns on her, leaving her speechless and unable to defend herself.

Hannah lowers her gun and says, "Hurry." You hesitate for a moment, conflicted by the sudden change in Hannah's demeanor. "What?"

"Hurry up before I change my mind," Hannah says, her voice trembling. "I don't want to be responsible for any more pain and suffering."

Taking your chance, you run out of the room and toward Jenna with the serum in your hand.

You unlock the door to the morgue and step inside, the cold air hitting you as you scan the room for Jenna Ortega's body. She lies on a stainless steel table, pale and lifeless. You rush to her side, praying that it's not too late. Injecting the serum into your soulmate, you watch anxiously as her body stirs and color returns to her cheeks.

You whisper words of encouragement, urging Jenna to fight for her life.

Relief washes over you as Jenna's eyes flutter open, and she takes a deep breath. "Y/N," she whispers weakly, her voice barely audible. You hold her hand tightly, grateful that you were able to save her from the brink of death.

You roll up your sleeve, revealing the marking on your forearm, silently explaining that you're her soulmate. Jenna's gaze shifts to your forearm, her eyes widening with recognition as she traces her finger over the marking.

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brf-rumortrackinganon · 2 months

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I saw another post on another blog that had a really good point and wanted to share it with everyone here...unfortunately I can't find the comment now!

The anon suggested that perhaps why the wire services may have freaked out about the edits on KP's photo is because of terms and conditions prohibiting agencies from selling post-edited or post-modified images. So someone at the AP or whatever wire service saw the edits and assumed that the usual rules - no selling or purchasing edited photos - applied in this case and overcorrected by issuing the kill notice to rectify their mistake of purchasing an edited photo. And in that panic to correct their "error", no one realized that the photo was sourced from a personal social media account, thus is subject to different rules. More internet chaos and a KP apology later, the photo suddenly gets resurrected and some of the community notes are removed.

It's a good theory, and one that's very plausible. Probably the most plausible explanation of everything that happened.

As to why there was suddenly a resurrection, I'm thinking the lawyers got involved and if the lawyers finally did get pulled in, they probably said either "this is a personal photo accessed on social media, those rules don't apply" (and everyone went "shit-shit-shit") or they talked about the sudden liabilities they're now open to with this precedence of calling out edits that they now have a standard to uphold (and everyone went "shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit"). Again, this is just conjecture. The kneejerking back-and-forth that happened today does seem classically lawyerese to me, though.

A second piece to this, I'm reminded of how KP shares their photos. Which is that the actually aren't selling their photographs. It's an old story from back in 2013, but when KP published the baby George-Kate-William-Lupo photos taken by Michael Middleton, a blogger who wanted to buy the photos for her website contacted Michael or KP to enquire about purchase and usage, and Michael or Michael's people responded that there was no cost for using the photos as long as she properly credited him with the copyright and used them only for a news story. I imagine that's similar to KP's process; if a publication (such as the AP) wants to reproduce a photograph credited to Kate (or William) that has been published on social media, the entity makes a request to the office, and the communications office sends them the source file.

At no point in any of this is there actually any money exchanging hands. I'm pretty confident there's no money being exchanged for KP's personal photographs to be reused, in which case the "we don't buy edited photos" rule is null and void. Different standards apply here. (My confidence comes from the fact that this is part of the "press pact" that Meghan and Harry pushed back against; they wanted to charge copyright and usage fees for their personal photographs rather than make them freely available on request like the then-Cambridges did.)

And then finally, all photographers - amateur and professional alike - edit their images before publishing them or sending them anywhere. What Kate did is no different than what Misan Harriman or Chris Jackson or Samir Hussein do (and have admitted to! Check out those links for their "confessions."). And I suspect that KP's statement where Kate said she had done the editing herself before the photo was posted is what threw the monkey wrench that maybe brought the lawyers in - because if they retract KP's photo on the basis that someone edited it before it was first posted/submitted to the public, then they have to retract thousands and thousands of other photos on the same grounds that someone edited it before it was first posted/submitted to the public. Again, this is all speculation.

At the end of the day, it all seems to be boiling down to one thing: there was a mixup and a miscommunication somewhere. And for me, all the signs point to the cock-up happening on the media's side. The rules/terms and conditions they have in place to use only verified images are good ones to have, but the last 48 hours have made it abundantly clear that there are holes in the rules and gaps in how they vet and verify images they source and distribute.

(Honestly I'm surprised that photographers haven't spoken out in Kate's defense. I'd have thought at least one or two would've said something. I can see why they wouldn't - maybe jobs are on the line or maybe they lose contest/recognition opportunities if they do - but it does strike me as a bit odd.)

(Also, sorry to the anon from earlier this morning to whom I said I probably wasn't going to post on the photo edit drama anymore. Clearly that plan went by the wayside.)

#brf #waleses #theories

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entishramblings · 1 year

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oh dear,, does the lord of the rings fandom on here not exist anymore?!!!

WHERE ARE YOU, MY PRECIOUSES?!!!!

please/reblog like this post and tag others if you (or they) post tolkien so I can follow and resurrect my dash!!!

I write LOTR fics and do the occasional photo edit <3

#LOTR #lord of the rings #the lord of the rings #the hobbit #tolkien #LOTR meme #LOTR memes

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optimysticals · 1 year

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This pendant is a perfect example of my love for Tumblr as an artistic business.

I love Tumblr for the fandom, the jokes, to social commentary, and the things that are just too difficult to explain to people not on this hellsite (affectionate).

But, this. This pendant. Damn.

We made these adorable little Robin Pendants with hand enameled masks and little crystals probably close to a decade ago. (Checking the OP timestamp it was December 2014).

When I originally sat down to make them I wasn't just going to enamel one of each color to see who was popular, that would have been silly. So I made a bunch of each.

In business terms, they flopped. But I always loved them.

They haven't been on our website since probably 2016 or 2018 (two big overhauls happened those years). The pendants were all disassembled so the crystal could be used elsewhere. And the Robins have been in a drawer ever since.

So why is this little pendant above so special to me and my feelings about Tumblr?

Because I took that photo today. Of a Stephanie Brown Robin Pendant I made this afternoon. Because someone found that ancient post, and commented on it that they'd love one of these. I was able to reach out and let them know it was possible. And through the magic of Tumblr we resurrected an 8 year old retired jewelry piece.

That's not something that happens on other social media sites. Once something is gone from the front page, it's gone forever. Resigned to the dustbin of digital history.

But here, here we celebrate "World Heritage Posts". We queue things like Sascha the Christmas Tiger 365 days in advance. We delight in going digging to find bits of the things we love.

And as an artist who tries desperately to make a living off of the shiny things we make, the fact that something can be found a week later, a year later, a decade later. It really is magic.

So yeah. Just going to be over here being sappy about community and jewelry for awhile.

#stephanie brown #Batgirl #Robin #the spoiler #nerd jewelry #community #im sappy okay

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wangxianficfinder · 11 months

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Non-Ao3 part 1 (part 2)

@nonao3ficrecs for more non-ao3 fics

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TWITTER

~*~

Short Bunji thread by @/gdnightsweetme (wangxian)

Foxxian/Dragonji thread by @/cerbykerby (wangxian, cw: dubcon, mpreg, memory loss)

Miniaturized Sleeve Husband WWX by @/Firebrd86 (wangxian)

Short Immortal Huli Jing WWX & Dragonji thread by @/cerbykerby (wangxian)

Prince LWJ & Royal Sect Leader WWX thread by @/honeyyyaeons (wangxian)

No War Au with Cursed Twin Jades by @/FriedJingyi (wangxian, bad luck curse, forced seclusion, case fic)

Modern Nighthunt Proposal by @/FriedJingyi (wangxian)

Babyji thread by @/Firebrd86 (wangxian, post-canon, established relationship, de-aging)

River Spirit Merxian by @/the_last_d_boy (wangxian, angst w happy ending, river spirit WWX, Graphic violence, light gore, Major character death (he gets better though))

Foxxian & Noodleji thread by @/0Pink_Blossoms0 (wangxian, dragon LWJ, fox WWX, different first meeting)

Short Modern Thread by @/gusubunnie (wangxian, first meeting, shopkeeper WWX, falling in love)

Dystopia AU by @/enigmatree (wangxian, dystopia, magic, curses, cursed LWJ, angst w happy ending)

College AU by @/enigmatree (wangxian, modern, college, nude photos, rich WWX)

Idol AU by @/cerbykerby (wangxian, modern, idol LWJ, Hannah Montana inspired)

ABO Mating Run by @/cerbykerby (wangxian, omega WWX, alpha LWJ, mating runs, humor, mpreg, dubcon, noncon)

Exiled LWJ thread by @/lotuslate (wangxian, canon divergence, exiled LWJ, fisherman LWJ, post-resurrection, reunions)

Immortals au by @/lanerjie (wangxian, modern, immortals LWJ & WWX, first meeting, good luck charms, falling in love, getting together)

SituationJiSeason thread by @/FriedJingyi (wangxian, modern cultivation, spells, bondage, pining, getting together)

Modern AU thread by @/LemonLushFF (Wangxian, modern, youtuber WWX, single parent LWJ, reunions, pining, smut)

Short Nature Photographer WWX thread by @/lamusadelils (wangxian, modern, fox LWJ, photographer WWX, getting together)

Shrek Forever Au by @/cerbykerby (wangxian, Shrek Forever AU, WWX erases himself from the world & memory)

“Evil” Bandit WWX au by @/cicerfics (Wangxian, humor, is it considered kidnapping if you do it yourself?)

Baby Foxian & Noodleji thread by @/cicerfics (wangxian, fox WWX, dragon LWJ, hurt LWJ, shapeshifters, humor, WWX in Cloud Recesses)

Paperman WWX Thread by @/FriedJingyi (wangxian, canon divergence, burial mounds settlement days, paperman WWX, pining)

Xuanwu Cave Confession by @/cerbykerby (Wangxian, canon divergence, Xuanwu cave, hurt WWX, love confessions, canon compliant)

Dadxian & Teacher LWJ thread by @/wrecklwj (Wangxian, modern, single parent WWX, teacher LWJ, pining, competence kink)

Mothxian & WitchJiThread by @/cerbykerby (Wangxian, fantasy au, moth WWX, witch LWJ, pining, marriage proposal)

Modern AU thread by @/ana__cp (Wangxian, modern, overwhelmed & stressed LWJ, weighted blanked WWX)

Ancient Evil WWX by @/cerbykerby (wangxian, au, YLLZ WWX, ancient WWX, imprisonment)

Gentleman Robber WWX by @/cerbykerby (wangxian, crown prince LWJ, gentleman robber WWX)

Modern ABO by @/cerbykerby (Wangxian, modern, ABO, alpha WWX, omega LWJ, misunderstandings, pining)

LQR & WWX Thread by @/wrecklwj (LQR & WWX, wangxian, modern, teacher LQR, HOD WWX, bonding, matchmaking, childhood friends WX, falling in love

Modern PigeonJi Au by @/luckymarrowb (wangxian, modern, YLLZ WWX, pigeon LWJ, hurt LWJ)

Short Thread by @/0Pink_Blossoms0 (wangxian, modern)

War Prize LWJ au by @/enigmatree (wangxian, canon divergence, madam lan lives, and also ran off with LQR & LXC, war prize LWJ, arranged marriage)

Fantasy au by @/gcelerydragon (wangxian, fantasy au, angst, sexual harrassment/assault, abuse, noncon body modification, magic armor, dub con, death, this was definitely darker than I remembered, curses, not YZY friendly)

Shifter AU feat. CSSR & WCZ by @/cerbykerby (CSSR/WCZ, wangxian, fox CSSR, wolf WCZ, dragon LWJ, fox WWX, babyJi, babyXian, humor)

Modern Au by @/yeehawmeowqing (wangxian, modern, barista WWX, bookseller LWJ, misunderstanding, love confessions, getting together)

University au by @/sk_starlight (wangxian, modern, university au, long-distance relationship, hinted lwj/omc, happy ending)

WarPrizeJi Au by @/PorcupineGirl8 (wangxian, canon divergence, YLLZ WWX)

WarPrizeJi Au by @/yeehawmeowqing (wangxian, au, YLLZ WWX, humor)

WarPrizeJi au by @/dilfzhxn (wangxian, YLLZ WWX, childhood crushes, dark thoughts, angst, NSFW, rough sex, bottom LWJ)

Ghost WWX Thread by @/stiltonbasket (wangxian, canon divergence, major character death, ghost WWX, fierce corpse WWX, love confessions, getting togehter, genius WWX)

Nsfw mpreg O!LWJ thread by @/cerbykerby (wangxian, Modern, ABO, omega LWJ, alpha WWX, non-con, dub-con, public sex, secret identity)

Modern thread by @/flowerofgusu (wangxian, modern, first meeting, mechanic WWX)

WarprizeJiSeason thread by @/letslwj (wangxian, canon divergence, rogue cultivator WWX, YLLZ WWX, secret identity, tw enslavement, violence)

DragonJi/FoxXian thread by @/cerbykerby (dragon LWJ, fox WWX, fluff)

Agent/Critic au by enigmatree (wangxian, modern, agent WWX, food critic LWJ, misunderstandings, first meeting, getting together, tw guns, violence)

Shapeshifter au by @/orca_day (wangxian, modern, shapeshifter WWX, cat WWX, identity reveal, getting together)

FoxXian au by @/cicerfics (Wangxian, ABO, shapeshifter WWX, fox WWX, prince LWJ, omega LWJ)

Royalty au by @/cerbykerby (wangxian, prince LWJ, sneaking out, first meeting)

Time Travel au by @/cerbykerby (wangxian, time travel, universe travel, prince LWJ, covert ops WWX)

God LWJ au by @/yumichanhamano (canon divergence, god LWJ, bunny LWJ, child WWX, different first meeting)

Phoenix WWX au by @/laazulink (wangxian, fantasy au, phoenix WWX, rogue cultivator WWX, dragon LWJ)

Modern au by @/cerbykerby (wangxian, modern, history, past emperor LWJ, secret consort, tw: homophobia, modern politics)

Wuxia sect Meishan Yu au @/wrecklwj (Jinzhu & JYL & Yinzhu, YZY &JYL, canon divergence, MSY is wuxia sect)

JYL in disguise au by @/westiectweets (JC & JYL & WWX, novel canon divergence, JYL in Cloud Recesses, JYL disguised as a boy, Cloud Recesses study arc)

Crow & Crane au by @/cerbykerby (wangxian, crow WWX, crane LWJ, courting, pining)

Modern ABO au by @/ariskamalt (wangxian, modern, omega LWJ, bottom LWJ, alpha WWX, neighbors, smut, cw //violence, dubcon, mpreg mention)

Courtesan LWJ au by @/rarawriting (canon divergence, courtesan LWJ, different first meetings)

Transmigration au by @/enigmatree (wangxian, transmigration, modern, ABO au LWJ in a Modern au, omega LWJ, concubine LWJ, bottom LWJ, CEO WWX)

WarPrizeJi au by @/enigmatree (wangxian, canon divergence, huli jing WWX, YLLZ WWX, dragon LWJ, accidental egg acquisation, arranged marriage)

Desperate Time Travel au by @/enigmatree (wangxian, canon divergence, time travel, dimension travel, angst, hurt/comfort, hurt LWJ)

No confession at the temple au by @/cerbykerby (wangxian, canon divergence, no confession au, angst, pining)

Soulmate au by @/enigmatree (wangxian, modern, soulmate au, first responder WWX, CPR, hurt LWJ, terrible first meeting)

God WWX au by @/enigmatree (wangxian, canon divergence, god WWX, different first meeting, bottom LWJ)

CSSR & WZC in Cloud Recesses au by @/cerbykerby (CSSR/WCZ, CSSR & LQR & WZC, child WWX, child LWJ, child LXC, madam lan has a vacation, QHJ is not the nicest)

Another CSSR & WZC in Cloud Recesses au by @/cerbykerby (CSSR/WCZ, CSSSR & LQR & WCZ, pregnancy, child birth, babies, the beginning of wangxian)

Foxxian & Dragonji au by @/yumichanhamano (wangxian, fantasy au, dragon LWJ, fox WWX, reunions, different first meeting, hurt LWJ)

Phoenixian & Dragonji au by @/cerbykerby (wangxian, fantasy au, different first meetings, meet-ugly, phoenix WWX, dragon LWJ)

ABO Time Travel au by @/cerbykerby (Wangxian, time travel, future LWJ in the past, ABO, omega LWJ, mpreg, misunderstandings, crack)

Fox YLLZ WWX au by @/orca_day (Wangxian, different first meeting, fox WWX, demon WWX, YLLZ WWX, burial mounds settlement days, hurt LWJ)

Modern Prank au by @t0ge_pi (wangxian, modern, pranks)

Dragonji EggPreg au by @/cicerfics (wangxian, dragon LWJ, mpreg, sort of, egg preg, misunderstandings, angst w happy ending)

Jin Banquet au by @/cicerfics (LXC & LWJ, wangxian, canon divergence, WWX doesn’t attend, twin jades going feral, lot of punching solving a lot of things, sect leader JYL, sect leader QS)

End of the World au by @gcelerydragon (wangxian, modern, apocalypse au, ABO, breeding kink, overstimulation)

Kids Dragonji & Foxxian au by @/s_selene210 (wangxian, kids, dragon LWJ, fox WWX, marriage proposal)

CQL Post-Canon thread by @/lanerjie (wangxian, post-canon, alcohol, drinking, getting together)

Mermay au by @/cerbykerby (Wangxian, teenagers, mer LWJ, human-eating, mention of wwx desecrating corpses (although when is that new), bottom!lwj, eggpreg)

LQR takes WWX in au by @/cerbykerby (LQR & WWX, wangxian, modern, not YZY friendly, WWX kicked out, implied physical abuse,

Auntie Yu au by @/sam9163 (YZY & WWX, modern, YZY friendly, bunnies)

Internet Friends Meetup by @/bottomlanzhann (wangxian, modern, first meeting, misunderstanding, mistaken identity)

Neighbors au by @/prettyweiyings (wangxian, modern, neighbors, single parent WWX, a-yuan is a good boy, getting officially together)

Modern ABO au by @/kazzys_wx (wangxian, modern, ABO, omega WWX, alpha LWJ, mpreg, unplanned pregnancy, not YZY friendly, protective LWJ)

CR Arc canon divergence by @/mimSS_og (Wangxian, Cloud Recesses Study arc, WWX is good with kids, fluff)

Omegaverse thread by @/prettyweiyings (Wangxian, modern, ABO, eventual mpreg, slick, alpha LWJ, omega WWX)

Vampire WWX thread by @/hyacinthsuns (wangxian, modern cultivation, vampire WWX, misunderstandings, daring rescues, consensually sexy blood drinking, happy ending, CW: blood (mostly in a vampire-y way), fire, injuries, past torture, and some mindfuckery (hallucinations caused by magic) )

Imprisoned WWX au by @/greenteafiend1 (JL & WWX, JC & JL, wangxian, JL centric, WWX lives au, imprisoned WWX, Jins being Jins, curses)

Angsty modern au by @/YilingSani (wangxian, modern, established relationship, angst, break up, not LXC friendly)

Twitter Fic by 3neetee this is lqr&wwx with a lil wx sequel

Soulmark AU by epistemologys_

time travel au by carib_goddess

~*~

If you think there’s a tag you’d like to be added (or a thread to be named differently haha) to the entries please tell us the thread name and link and we will add it ^^

#Wangxian Fic Rec #The Untamed #wangxian #MDZS #wangxianficfinder compilation post #long post #non-ao3 fics #non-ao3 fic compilation

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