#Get a Load of Traits

[crusherthedoctor]

Get a Load of Traits - PART 1: Sonic the Hedgehog

Way back during my Tumblr infancy, I made a series by the mouthful of What Makes For A Good Incarnation, in which I listed the main noteworthy traits that I consider integral for crafting, at the very worst, a still above-average portrayal of the character in question. By "series", I meant I did exactly three of them, then forgot all about it. In the words of Moneybags, I seemed to have temporarily forgotten.

In the years since however, I've went back and forth on going back and redoing them - as well as providing entries for those who didn't get one the first time around - because shall we say, a few recent portrayals have caused me to believe they're in need of some additional points or further elaboration. So now here I am to actually do it.

For the DX: Director's Cut, and for the sake of not dragging them out too much, I've decided to keep it all thematically consistent by sticking with 9 main points per character, in terms of what I personally consider the highest priorities for each of them. These will usually not be listed in any particular order of importance or relevance unless stated otherwise, and while there may be other major traits that might not get mentioned (in which case, feel free to bring them up yourself if you see fit), this keeps things simple and focuses on the points that have the most flexibility with how much of the character they encapsulate.

It should also be noted that these posts will be made with the game portrayals in mind, because the games mark the core of the franchise, and as such, they objectively contain the purest essence of the cast. Adaptations generally like to play by their own rules, some more gratuitously and inexcusably than others, and this will inevitably crop up with certain entries. All that being said however, I'll attempt to stay focused rather than devolve into another rant about this adaptation or that adaptation, only directly referring to them if I feel it's necessary for the point being made.

So without further ado, for today's installment, we're jumping right into the main Crush 40 enthusiast himself: Sonic.

Since Sonic was one of the characters covered in the past, much of this will be retreading old ground. If you know me well though, I'm sure you'll be able to tell which of it is new or expanded upon.

He's meant to be fun.

"Psst, the mandates don't exist."

We'll start with one so easy to get that you'd have to be purposefully contemptuous of the franchise and the character to suggest otherwise: Sonic is a fun character. He's all about having fun. He looks at virtually everything, no matter how precarious, as a thrill ride first and foremost. He is perpetually filled with a carefree love for all that life has to offer, has never been shy about it, and is known to enjoy fighting the baddies as well. Nothing keeps him down.

It's a large factor into why the franchise itself commonly boasts a sense of energy and wonder. If you don't acknowledge this aspect of Sonic's character... what are you even doing here? Why are you writing for him? What character are you seeing?

But he also knows when it's time to get serious.

Oh look, Super Sonic when it still had milk left in it.

Sonic's knack for making snarky quips of debatable quality can lead some into thinking he's incapable of taking anything seriously at all. This is how we get writers who seek to humble him for it... but unfortunately for them, they're not breaking any new ground: Sonic does get down to business when the situation calls for it, and even when he's joking around with whatever villain he's currently facing, he's always got his wits sharp, never going out of his way to be sloppy. And no, this isn't limited to the one-off villains and Godzilla-type Pokemon we know and begrudgingly tolerate: he more than acknowledges the very serious threat and crimes of the deceptively jovial Eggman's actions as well.

After all, do we not recall some of the near-death situations that Eggman has found himself in upon defeat, and how Sonic usually shows no concern over whether he survives or not? Do we not recall Sonic interrogating Zor over what happened to Tails? Do we not recall what he did to the Erazor Djinn when he refused to YouTube Apologise for abusing his former lover?

Sonic takes a lot of things quite seriously. More than he tends to let on. He just also likes to have fun at the same time.

He does not loathe technology.

"You're telling me this board was made with... SCIENCE...?"

Yes, Sonic is the nature foil to Eggman's scientific scheming. It's been a constant with the franchise since its inception, all the way to modern entries like Colours. But if Sonic hated technology itself, he wouldn't be best friends with a tinkerer. Nor would he own a plane.

The series as a whole has always been sensible about the matter compared to other green aesop-spewing media of the 90's. Rather than demonize technology outright, it understood the strengths it had, and how it could be used for nature's benefit rather than its detriment. Sonic CD visualized this wonderfully, as the Good Futures were fond of showing them side-by-side, in perfect harmony, with no cost to the land's health and beauty.

So with Sonic, he doesn't oppose technology. He opposes Eggman, whose methods involve technology. If you want Sonic to preach about the evils of tech as he drops a mahogany log in the woods and scrambles for a leaf to wipe his ass with, just go on DeviantART. Or watch SatAM.

He has selfish needs, but he's not a selfish person.

"Shit, I forgot the third paragraph of my principle monologue."

Sonic knows what he wants, and that something is his freedom. He's not going to be anchored down, he's not going to live a mundane life, and he's going to adventure and explore the world and beyond for as long as he can. This goes both ways: it's further reason why he confronts oppressive sorts like Eggman, but on the other hand, it can be hard to keep up with him at times, and since Amy has a clear vision on how she would want their future lives to be like as a couple, it's no wonder Sonic hasn't shown much serious interest in his friend in that particular way.

Don't get the wrong idea though; this doesn't mean Sonic is a selfish person full stop. In part thanks to several adaptations, a common misconception with the Blue Blur is mistaking him for a pure egotist through and through, who only cares about his adrenaline-fueled ecstasy and nothing else. Cause y'know, he's firm about his needs, and he has a cocky side, therefore he's full of himself, right?

Well no, not at all: his opposition to big bad villains would surely be enough on its own to confirm that he cares about everyone else's freedom too, so long as said people aren't doing anything malicious themselves. Yes, he fights villains because it's fun to him, but he also has a genuine hatred for injustice. He doesn't think like a typical superhero, where he fights evil and saves lives because he feels he has an obligation to do so, he does it simply because he wants to. How is that not selfless?

But it's even more than that: he's proven himself to be humble in spite of his cockiness, right down to dismissing any and all formal terms for himself when others use them. Half the time he tells the people he's saved to not sweat it, and the other half, he's already bolted before they can even thank him. Sonic largely doesn't care about the fame and attention that comes with being a repeated world saviour, and in more intimate situations, he's full of compassion there too. Hell, even in Black Knight, despite initially intending to slice Merlina in half in a furious response to her betrayal, he was later willing to show empathy to her defeated self, recognizing that she was an extremist, but not like the other villains he had faced.

Also, he doesn't have a history of treating his friends and accomplices like garbage. He might not see them all that often due to his globe trotting ways ("Long time no see!"), but he clearly values each of them. Even the ones he pokes light fun at on occasion, like Knuckles and Shadow.

He's impulsive, but intelligent.

Remember when Eggman had a conch? Starline didn't.

Like any character, Sonic does indeed have faults. Sonic is a guy who, when he sets out to do something, he'll do it, no questions asked. If Sonic thinks he knows the solution to sorting everything out, then that's all there is to it. This has worked in his favor more often than not, but it can also just as easily lead to mishaps, like the moment pictured above from Lost World. His cockiness has also been taken advantage of on several occasions, like in SA2 and Unleashed. Both of those were by Eggman, by the way. Just wanted to throw that out there.

However, Sonic is not an idiot. Just because he's a speedster doesn't mean he can't think straight, and his moments of recklessness are often born out of not knowing the full story rather than blindly charging in after already knowing better. If he makes a mistake, he'll acknowledge it and attempt to rectify it as soon as possible, and if he thinks someone else has good advice, then he'll be willing to hear them out, especially if it's coming from his life-long buddy, Tails.

To put it generously, Sonic's intelligence is prone to be heavily downplayed in certain adaptations, most notably in SatAM and Prime. This is usually done for the sake of forcing him to learn a lesson that a character like him doesn't really need to learn, or to prop up another character as the brains behind his operation. Or because Hurr Hurr Vroom Vroom Character Dumb. In reality though, Sonic is actually very intelligent: certainly not a super-genius like Tails or Eggman, but he's quick to pick up on details, and experience has taught him how to optimize his speed and acrobatics effectively and gracefully, while making it look completely effortless. He's also emotionally intelligent, being able to read a room with little issue, and when placed in a new situation, it doesn't take long for him to adapt.

So Sonic is a very bright person who just so happens to occasionally make impulsive decisions, for better or for worse. This does not translate to him being a Funny Penis Man. That's a vast simplification that tends to come from people who take the archetype that describes him at face value.

He only cares about how others perceive him when it's based on deception.

"Surrounded by evil knights and a girl I've never met before... better inhale the worst cuisine they've ever seen with my goatse mouth."

To paraphrase the hedgehog himself, he doesn't mind having to play the bad guy if it's necessary to do what he thinks is right. This doesn't apply in a meta sense - WE know he's doing the right thing - but what it means is that in-universe, he understands that some people might think he's the villain due to their perspective on the situation. And he accepts that, because he doesn't care about how his true blue self is perceived by strangers one way or the other. He doesn't expect or demand the rest of the world to live by his own personal beliefs unlike some iterations, but since they're his own, he holds no shame in sticking with them personally. He can only be who he truly is, and if some people have a problem with that, then he'll just have to take it smoothly with a Winston break.

But, as proven with Shadow inadvertently framing him in SA2, he does care when it involves Shit That Isn't True. Because if you're going to judge him, it better be for stuff he's actually done, and for who he actually is. Sonic doesn't care about attention, but he does evidently care about his identity.

The real super power of teamwork.

"Because... we're Sonic Boom: Rise of Lyric!"

Sonic Heroes is a game that frequently gets referenced in side-material, which is an impressive feat considering it condemned itself by dressing Metal Sonic like a wanker. Yet for some curious reason, despite all the Heroes referencing, writers have trouble remembering the entire theme of the game, because their idea of Sonic needing to learn the benefits of teamwork and friendship is... lol...? Lmao...? Dare I even say... rofl...?

Sonic is the last person on the goddamn planet who needs to learn this, and you'd know that even if you weren't familiar with Heroes. Other games have shown time and time again that he appreciates the contributions of his allies, and gives them the appropriate kudos with no shred of reluctance, all without placing himself above them in the process. And while he may not be quick to ask for help, he's usually willing to accept it when it's offered to him. Like in '06, in which he casually allowed Trunks the Hedgehog to help out despite his attempting to kill him when they last met.

Sonic knows the super power of teamwork just fine. It's in his business card. Him of all people needing to learn this aesop is a non-development, a cheap way to make it seem like the writers are doing something ~deep~ with him. Giving back something he should have had to begin with is not character development.

His thing about emotions.

"A tall girl. My weakness."

Despite his outward demeanour, Sonic has a lot of introversion deep down, what with showing himself a contemplative side on a regular basis, and most of his dialogue being fairly straight and to-the-point. As it happens, this extends to how he manages his emotions, aside from his alleged temper. Sonic is obviously not stoic, but you're not likely to see him break down in hysterics, or publicly show tears at all unless it's in private.

Some writers and artists - or should I say, certain writers and artists - consider this an abominable sin that must be rectified. They'll get it into their heads that Sonic shows no emotion at all, but never fear boys and girls, they'll fix that pronto. They'll give him the emotions that SEGA couldn't. And what do you know, the end results end up looking absolutely ridiculous, and simply not in-line with who and what our hero is. Fact of the matter is, not everyone wears their emotions on their sleeve, and not breaking out the waterworks is not the same as being an unfeeling machine altogether. As it applies to real life, it applies as well to fictional characters. Because they're not all going to be the same.

His introversion doesn't just relate to himself though. It also seeps into his visible discomfort in dealing with the complex emotions of others, especially those who can't shake themselves off as easily as he can. Notice how, during moments where someone else is upset by something he can't easily fix - such as Tails lamenting Emerl's demise, or Shahra grieving over Majin Ganondorf despite him being a terminal shithead - he often finds himself at a loss, needing a moment or two to think of what he should say or do to console them.

It's possible that, with his canonical tendency to not be all that open about whatever might be troubling him, under the belief of not wanting to make his problem their problem by extension, he might not consider himself the most well-equipped for someone else's anguish. Or maybe that's just a Game Theory. Either way, whatever awkwardness there may be on his part, he always does his best regardless, as he would for any other situation.

...unless it involves one-sided sadness. Then he's not as sympathetic.

He's an ideal.

"Fuck sake, another argument over voice actors."

Sonic is a static character. Deliberately so. He is also not meant to be a relatable character, at least not in the sense of what Twitter members who have never played a Sonic game in their life consider relatable, which is basically making the character exactly the same as them, beat for beat, including the mismatched haircut, announcing their pronouns every three sentences, and the compulsive thirst to speak to the manager.

Needless to say, this doesn't work with the fastest thing alive. Everything about Sonic - his refusal to give up, his refusal to let distress overwhelm him, his freedom to go where the wind takes him - all of it, and more, serves to make him an inspiration. And guess what? Characters are allowed to be that. Inspirational characters are just as important as relatable ones, because by seeing what they can accomplish, we can strive to become our best selves. Why would you want to take that away?

Every character, the good ones anyway, have a defined purpose. Sonic has his. Other characters in the series might be considered relatable, but that's not where Sonic himself lies. It's better to leave that occupation for others, such as those who were inspired in-universe by Sonic himself, like Tails and Amy.

------

If you understand all of these points, and if you can take to them, then I believe you should have what it takes to write a good, or even great, portrayal of Say Yes to the Dress the Hedgehog. No portrayal is going to be one-and-one with that of another, there'll always be subtle distinctions depending on the writer, but you'll be fine as long as he's not a holier-than-thou dipshit who speaks more words than The Great Gatsby.

#Get a Load of Traits #Opinion #Sonic the Hedgehog

[swiftcast-selene]

Day 8: Favorite Job

botany! botany! botany! the source of all life! the meaning of everything! what would he be without it?!

#miqomarch #miqomarch 2024 #seeker of the sun #ffxiv miqo'te #final fantasy 14 #HE. FUCKING. LOVES. BOTANY. #he has three lectures locked and loaded at any given time about soil composition or leaf shapes #sent Sagra home from the 1st with a library's worth of leaf pressings #it saved his life and in exchange he is DETERMINED. DETERMINEDDDD to get everybody in his life to realize the IMPORTANCE of NATURE!!!!! #it is his most gridanian trait lol #when they discovered saint mocianne's in heavensward no one saw him for a solid WEEK. dragons be damned he is going to get some CUTTINGS!!!

[pooklet]

uuuuUUgh *lies down and dies the death of a jump bug that can’t be replicated outside a specific family that has something to do with traits but trying to load the family without them in just causes the game to hang on the house loading screen indefinitely thus making it impossible to find out what the fuck is actually causing the bug RIP to me plant nice flowers over my grave pls*

#everyone brace yourselves for another 2yr cakebread hiatus #wheee #went through with simidge and removed every non-patch conflict #no dice #it's two specific sims that get in an endless jump loop #if i move them onto an empty lot they're fine #but if i move everyone else out they still snap reset #already moved the entire family to a different lot once which didn't help #so like i don't think it's something on the lot specifically #since taking out all of buybuild did not stop it #i was able to whittle the bug down to my hacks and traits folders #but trying to 50-50 any further means the family won't load at all #the two sims in question are the next cakebread gen #so technically i could just move them into their own house and continue #but there's no guarantee the bug won't just come back #if i cannot find the source #which again isn't any object cc cas cc or the lot itself #''play with less mods'' you say #''your game will run so much better'' you say #you may as well tell me to walk into the ocean #gif tag

[ownedbyaborzoi]

It was time for Javier to get his own horse, plus what's a ranch without a stallion at stud? So meet Khody, a purebred Arabian.

#my game won't load for me to get his traits #lovely #sims #the sims #the sims 4 #sims 4 #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 horses #sims 4 horse ranch #ts4 #ts4 gameplay #ts4 horses #ts4 horse ranch #qamariya ranch #queued

[cacaitos]

see for the thing ive observed abt the way the female-to-male predation types of portrayals happen to go, that imo for some reason use like extra stablished power dynamics to like. *justify themselves happening in the first place (like ex mothers that are yk. v straighforward menaces in a kid/teen's inmediacy), is that i will give fujimoto the acknowledgement of partially avoiding doing so by virtue of him not having much respect or shame for himself and his story analogues.

#txt #*like whay im trying to say is that i get the feeling that they use like very heightened imbalances more from the getgo to like pose them #as a threat to start as baseline ygwim? #say to continue w the mother bit. too I feel they allow the male character like if just one iota of decency #a certain jenesaisquoi subconscious safeguard that the agressor can be toppled ultimately. that it has a weakness. #like a very subtle security that they can 'be put in their place' #and to be clear im not saying that writing abt abuse has to be an exercise of cruelty or self flagellation #and self debasement regardless of it being lived or not that's not what I'm getting at. #in this mother case ive said before that they tend to make them also mentally ill but lowkey in that #Woman Illness way like yk they're throwing bpd and shit there w/o a fault. like yeah they're abusive but #how come we still get this like freudian-pseudoscience-misogynyesque portrayal like who #does this even benefit (for another post bc I think I left some things out last time). #like this powerful figure over the most weakest stages of a person that's somehow both irremediably #abusive but also by [debilitating female trait weakness here] is pitiable (ie overcome-able. send her ass #to a psychiatric). #like i hope im conveying what I'm trying to say here. #like not all stories abt abuse have to be so graphic in fact some that do can't even carry that #load you're not good or throughout enough for that you don't have that range srry 💀 #and the fujimoto part like while yes [rant here abt femcharacter sexualization relative to mcharacs here] #yes makima is already denji's boss/adult(the power dynamic justification part). it's not like denji #is getting femchara of brsrkTM treatments re: assault n grooming (decency part) (not complaining) #again not everything has to be an exercise of self humiliation etc. #but if the puke kiss said at least one thing it was compromise to the portrayal 💀 #that and makima just being a internally straightforward offender (not bc it makes things simpler it's that #avoids the hashtag girlabuserTM thing). like nah the way out is through on this one sorry :/ #he didn't have to do that but if fujimoto's own personal shortage of self respect nourishes the art well then 💀💀

[lexicog]

she only knows how to doggy paddle but she does it really well call that the beast stroke

#thinking about the main character of a game i want to make. siiiiigh #guy struggles with learning game engine basics while dreaming of making an open world game solo. more at 11 #is it reeeaally so much to ask for to be able to code the whole thing & create a fighting game based combat system & compose an #entire soundtrack & draw all key art and character designs with extensive fauna and flora #& optimize a lush open world to run on lower end/handheld hardware &. by GOD i did not even mention the tea brewing system #and the animal befriending mechanics and the joycon gyro controlled in-game instrument with midi support for PC #okay i say open world but i am going to have loading screens because i believe in the everlasting spirit of human imagination and i think #no one will cry shit their pants and rattle their enclosure bars if they have to suspend disbelief for 4 seconds #taking a trip to the art museum like UM. why did all these painters use canvases with edges... how am i supposed to be immersed now. #also as per standard procedure i am just projecting my traits onto the characters i make. i only know da doggy paddle #well that's a lie i technically know freestyle but. its scary. whud if i get wader in my moutg

[chainreh]

me earlier: hm tonight i will sleep at a regular time

me now: actually stays up to 5am listening to the sims 3 event music (like a boss)

#THAT BURGLAR THEME MAN... I'm going to have nightmares #i had so many nightmares about the sims as a kid its funny in hindsight #my parents banned me from playing for a few years bc it kept giving me nightmares ☹️☹️ #also like. why does ts3 grim reaper theme go so fucking hard? #also watching these make me miss ts3 so much #its crazy. i loved the sound effects so much they scratch my brain in the right way #also imagine traits actually affecting how ur sim act and not just give them a moodlet for 2 hours occasionally 😁😁😁 #like..idk ts4 just feels so lifeless to me #i also hate how when you start a new game it brings you into cas instead of the map view #and i kinda get it bc hey cool you can go to anyworld without massive loading screen #but the towns feel? lifeless? like #they have no sense of identity bc regardless of what town ur in ure gonna see all the same sims from the basegame towns... #its just a slightly different aesthetic #also i never feel inclined to play with the other townies in ts4 #i did that all the time in ts2 + 3 #none of them stick out to me at all. the only ones i can remember is the goths the landgrabs and the pancakes #i could not tell you any others who live in the towns. i cant even remember the names of the towns theyre that unimportant to me #ugh. sorry i hate that game so much its unreal 😭i dont want to hate it but i cant help myself #i am a little hater

[kirbyddd]

huaaaaaaah dynasty warriors 8xl is just as amazing as i remembered it on the vita it's good to be back

you cant get the steam version though even after gui and graphics mods it's hot garbage i had to refund it and was thinking like "was it just always this janky and ugly looking back then??" but after refunding i got it on switch and it's BEAUTIFUL and smooth exactly how i remembered it but in HD and 60fps

amazing the difference a dedicated port with attention to quality can make over a minimal effort cash grab

#also dw8 is just awesome #idk how you turn an anime musou game into genuinely deep and historical fiction but by sunzi they did it #what other game gives you the ability to pause loading screen animations so you can read the historical context #it's always awesome to look up the characters and events after a mission and be like “OHHHHH that's where those character traits came from!” #the attention to detail is superb - you dont realize how deliberate all the dialogue and details are til you read up on more of the history #the way historical factors are translated into character traits and dialogue is just is just 🤌 chef's kiss #shout out to my boy sun jian's retainer not even i remember your name forgive me #“I CAN GET THINGS DONE~” #love how he does the oliver hardy smile-to-glare face with his musou

[specshroom]

So I read that lemurs scoop their competitor's sperm out of females with their tongues. I don't actually know if that's true but...

JUST IMAGINE.

You're found by a troop of these half lemur half human creatures in the forest. Basically a human but with lemur traits, striped tails, huge eyes, furry ears, little snouts and long prehensile tongues, the whole shabang.

It's not long before one or two of them are rubbing up on you, rubbing their scent glands on you which, unbeknownst to you, works as a pretty strong aphrodisiac to humans.

They struggle your back pack and clothes off, leaving you just as naked as they are. You might have been more concerned about that if it wasn't for one of them shoving his strange tongue down your throat and rubbing the scent glands on his wrists all over your naked skin. The pheromones have made you putty in their hands. Two kneel on the ground in front of you and lick up your thighs, feverishly sniffing and lapping at your wet pussy.

After a bit of a skirmish one of them finally mounts and fucks you, much to the others displeasure. It's fast and needy, his arms holding you around the waist to hit those good spots inside you. As you look up at the trees you notice there are many more in this troop than you realised, watching you from the high branches.

The one fucking you finally cums deep inside you. He licks and nibbles at your tits until another one gets impatient and pushes him off starting a fight between them. The sneaky third one takes this opportunity to shove his long tongue into your pussy and scoop out the first's cum, repeatedly dragging his rough tongue along your walls. When he feels he's dragged out enough cum he quickly thrusts himself inside you and fucks you at an alarming pace. Biting your shoulder and neck with his small but sharp teeth. His balls slap against your ass as his load replaces the first one's.

Imagine this process just repeating over and over again, they almost make a game of it. One cums inside and another scoops it out again and again. You can do little but lay there and moan on the forest floor, absolutely cock drunk, just being filled and emptied and filled and emptied.

You become the troops new play thing or maybe you'll join the troop if one of their many loads takes.

#monsterfucker #monster x reader #nsft writing #nsft fantasy #monster boyfriend #monster x human #monster lover #monster fucker

[crusherthedoctor]

Get a Load of Traits - PART 2: Dr. Eggman

It's that time again, folks. Time for another analysis you didn't ask for.

I explained how the setup goes with my previous installment revolving around Sonic, but to recap: for the sake of not dragging things out too much, I’ve decided to keep it all thematically consistent by sticking with 9 main points per character, in terms of what I personally consider the highest priorities for each of them. These will usually not be listed in any particular order of importance or relevance unless stated otherwise, and while there may be other major traits that might not get mentioned (in which case, feel free to bring them up yourself if you see fit), this keeps things simple and focuses on the points that have the most flexibility with how much of the character they encapsulate.

It should also be noted that these posts are made with the game portrayals in mind, because the games mark the core of the franchise, and as such, they objectively contain the purest essence of the cast. Adaptations generally like to play by their own rules, some more gratuitously and inexcusably than others, and this will inevitably crop up with certain entries. All that being said however, I’ll attempt to stay focused rather than devolve into another rant about this adaptation or that adaptation, only directly referring to them if I feel it’s necessary for the point being made.

Anyhow, for today’s installment, the spotlight shines on everyone's favourite villain that they pretend isn't a villain: Dr. Eggman.

He's larger than life.

Where could he be???

He's shaped like an egg. He laughs and bellows like it's going out of fashion. He proudly announces when he's in the room for no other reason than to inform everyone that he's in the room. He takes sadistic glee when you don't have enough memory in the memory card. Why would you want to sawdust away this side of him? What are you, a Hollywood writer?

Just as Sonic is a fun hero, it's integral that Eggman is a fun villain. He's all about the colour, the spectacle, the raw energy. This is non-negotiable. If you approach this character and think he needs to be made grounded because he has a silly name or something, then you are going about this the completely wrong way. Villains like Eggman get praised all the time for being vibrant and wacky, so frankly, there is no excuse to write him off for it.

He is genuinely smart.

"Oh yeah? Well if you played nice, I wouldn't need to transform you into a tedious gameplay mechanic that appeals to furries and is guaranteed to give this game negative reviews from IGN. Haha, gottem."

Look at the screencap above. He was able to turn the tables against Super Sonic right when it looked as though he was thoroughly cornered. How was he able to achieve this? By planning.

*leans closer to the mic*

P L A N N I N G.

Yes, he is not literally omniscient. Yes, he can be prone to the occasional oversight. Yes, unexpected events can transpire that would be difficult if not impossible for him to account for. But all that aside, Eggman is a genius. He does have an IQ of 300. He talks a big game, but with all the amazing tech he's created over the years, and with all the ways he's pulled a fast one over the heroes, he has proven that he can play the big game. Need I remind you that this is a human, and his arch-nemesis is the fastest thing alive, not some dude on the street. He would need to be on his A-game in order to last.

And yes, it is indeed him who does all that brainstorming. Ever since day 1, he's always been very hands-on with his operations, not needing to steal the credit from another scientist or force a hostage to do it all for him. His plans? His weapons? They're all him. Would a mere bumbler be able to subdue the Time Eater?

He is genuinely evil.

"What's this shite I'm hearing about a Mr. Tinker...?"

We've got the Triforce of Funny Man. We've got the Triforce of Real Intelligence. Now here comes the hardest pill to swallow: the Triforce of Actually Malevolent.

For reasons that can be pinned on certain portrayals that are coincidentally more commonly found in adaptations, fans are all too willing to remove agency from Eggman's villainy. When they're not claiming an amnesiac personality that peaced out as quickly as it arrived is his true self, they're claiming he has all these heated gamer moments for the purpose of avenging his Wasted™ grandfather, Professor Gerald Robotnik. Or they claim he's not as bad as other villains in the franchise because he "only" wants to conquer the world, rather than destroy it.

Now how can I put this gently...

No, I am not just saying this because I personally happen to favor Eggmen with proper villainous balls to their name rather than glorified frenemies with Sonic at best. Even when exorcising myself of all potential bias, the Eggman we see in the games is still a very different fellow from what a concerning number of fans say with a straight face he is.

He stuffs animals inside robots on a regular basis. He lies, cheats, and backstabs on a regular basis. He fired a laser at the planet with the intent to fracture it, with no consideration for destruction or fatalities. He conquered other planets just to reduce them to self-indulgent attractions for his theme park. He drove a friendly robot to insanity after they were willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. He wanted to destroy Station Square right out the gate, with the only difference come the end of his rope being that he changed tactics to more suicidal means out of desperation. When the Deadly Six were defeated, and the world remained in a dire state, his only reaction was to express relief that there was still something for him to lord over. And although Forces may have glossed over much of his rule, it's clear that it wasn't pleasant for anyone other than himself. Throughout all of this, he rarely brings up Gerald in a consistent manner outside of SA2 and ShtH, and in fact, even in those games, it's pretty clear that he only cares about Gerald's scientific legacy and how that makes him special in the process due to being his grandson. He's never been shown to give a damn about the rest of Gerald as a person, including the philanthropist he was at heart prior to his last days.

Not wanting to destroy the world is not an act of kindness. It's simple logic: he can't conquer something that's not there. And is treating the population to a lifetime of slavery really that softer than a quick and (relatively) painless death? I'm sure TV Tropes would say yes, but what do you think?

He's a self-made man.

Egg Jameson confirmed.

Our horizontally enlightened fiend did not start with a kingdom of his own. He was not a test tube baby who could shoot lasers out of his hands from day one. He was not born a demon, nor did he hail from a bloodline of gods. When he began his path in life of being a furry shamer, he had only his gadgets and tools to work with. Yet, he has managed to carve himself a bountiful list of pro gamer moves over the years despite his mortal human status, including harnessing the Time Eater as mentioned, bringing his dream Eggmanland to life in all its glory, and the engineering marvel that is Metal Sonic... and almost never suffering from financial troubles despite the frequent destruction of his machines at Sonic's hands. (Keep Sonic 4's name out your fuckin' mouth.)

And speaking of that last part, there has been evidence across the series that he has more than one way of ensuring the moolah keeps rolling in. We've seen him set up casinos, carnivals, Extreme Gear companies, newspaper factories, and other facilities to extend his reach. We've seen his robots mine for resources all over the world, and occasionally other worlds. We've seen him own a literal ocean of oil. We've even seen him sell his stripped down robots to chumps who don't know any better. For all his childish ways and penchant for plagiarizing the Death Star, he's surprisingly good at money management.

Then there's his specific approach to scheming and beating Sonic. Winning on its own is never enough for him: he wants to win on his terms, by doing things his way. So he might steal a shiny gem, but he'll use it to power the tech that he made. He might wake up a sleeping beast, but he'll have an Egg Carrier operating alongside it. The doc is always pulling his weight no matter the game, because if he didn't, how could he back up his self-admired intellect without it ringing hollow? You know he wouldn't be having that.

All of this goes a long way to explaining how he grew a knack for being so pro-active as a villain in the present day of the games proper. Instead of having it easy by being born an almighty superbeing, he had to work his way up using nothing but his brain. Because Dr. Eggman is a man with quite a few admirable qualities. Just a shame that morality is not one of them, no matter how much I've been gaslit by fans into believing otherwise.

His ego is his motive.

Don't say it.

As we discussed, for all his manufactured admiration of his late grandad's genius, he doesn't mention him as often across the franchise as fans would lead you to believe. But you know which moustached gentleman he does mention a lot throughout the franchise...?

An overfilled sense of pride is to be expected for a pure villain. Regardless of their motive and their means to fulfill said motives, they're expected to think highly of themselves to some degree. But Eggman is not your everyday egotist: he IS the ego. Many villains have made statues of themselves, but how many do you know who have defaced historical monuments and plastered their visage on them? How many villains do you know who call half of their machines Egg Something? How many villains do you know who make up every single boss in more than one installment?

That's because Eggman's ego isn't just part of his character: it's the source of his drive. Everything he does, everything he wants to do, is fueled by how much he loves himself, and how displeased he is that the rest of the world does not feel the same way. He wants everyone to bow down to his excellence, he wants to conquer the world to satisfy his lust, and even that wouldn't keep him satiated forever, since evidence has shown that he would just make a grab for the whole universe if he got bored. He cannot picture a world where anyone else matters, because they're not him. Over the span of three decades, his inflated self-worth at the cost of everyone else's agency and wellbeing has not diminished one iota, and unless SEGA decides to pander hard to the Eggdad standom, this is not likely to change anytime soon.

Which leads me to my next point...

The consequences are irrelevant to him.

Quote by Billy Mitchell.

Part of the recurring problem with Eggman being woefully mischaracterized as not such a bad guy when you get to know him is because people like to suggest that since he rarely shows outright sadism while committing his evil deeds (except this is also not true; see Tails' story in SA1, or the sheer ecstasy in his tone when he betrayed Emerl's trust in Battle), that means the results that spring from them are more excusable than the likes of Mephiles, Starline, Disney, etc.

Putting aside the fact that he's still willingly committing these deeds to begin with - with no regret at that - let's assume they mean in reference to ordinary citizens and the like. Now maybe it's true that he's not known to dedicate much of his career to making things personal with random nobodies. But let me ask you something: when he declared his intent to destroy Station Square with Chaos so he could build ROBOTNIKLAND THE ULTIMATE CITY WHERE I WILL RULE IT AAAALLLL COME ON CHAOS LET'S FIND ANOTHER EMERALD SHALL WE Eggmanland over its remains... did he say anything about letting the residents evacuate? Did he provide a means to help them evacuate?

What you need to keep in mind is that Eggman showing little interest goes both ways. He doesn't give any thought to these folk period. If his giant mech killed people who were in his way, or he fired a cannon at Whocaresville and the people living there didn't have time to get out of dodge, he's not going to shed a tear and call for a moment of silence. Because, as we've already established, the only person that matters is him. So long as he gets what he wants, and so long as there are still other people out there to worship him, what's the big deal if some kid is now without a parent or a home?

He is not a good master.

"Also, I did create a vaccine. That's what you get for listening to our loving fans who hate us."

Well, at least he shows a more caring side to his creations, right? Sure... if you don't pay any attention to how it plays out onscreen.

My dude is certainly willing to shower his creations with high praise, but what advocates of Good Guy Eggman fail to note is that he praises them because he made them. An achievement for them is an achievement for him, because how would they be so brilliant and competent if it weren't for who built them that way? And you know what else? That praise conveniently only manifests when the creation is doing their job: the moment they fall short of his lofty standards, he flips like a switch. Can it truly be considered sincere and from the heart if he's that willing to turn on them that easily?

Of his many robotic stooges over the years, two that he held in high esteem were the E-Series and Metal Sonic. He made a show of tasking the former with an important mission, and the latter has been recognized repeatedly as one of his crowning masterpieces. And yet, all of the E-Series bar Gamma were discarded and essentially left to fend for themself in an unfamiliar world, with Beta being forcibly modified without a second thought. Gamma was only spared because, you guessed it, he was the one with a victory to his name. As for Metal Sonic, for all his longevity and special treatment, he too is not immune to punishment in the event of failure or disobedience.

And Infinite? His prized right-hand man during his six month conquest? Whisked away without a word after one bruh moment too many, followed by making a point to show off his own mastery over the (real) Phantom Ruby.

Needless to say, this is a stark contrast from the goofy dad you often see in fanart.

His will is equal to Sonic's.

"I'm gonna have to reset, that was a practice run."

Being a regular human does not serve as a limitation for Eggman's status and capabilities, unless you're a hack writer who believes superficial power levels are the instant-win key to a good antagonist, or a well-crafted story in general. On paper, a hedgehog with Sonic's level of power should have dealt with this silly old man once and then never again. That happened with aliens. It happened with gods. It happened with talking ballsacks. Yet Eggman is still around. Despite being subjected to a wide selection of situations that should have Big Oof'd him, with Sonic normally not considering saving him from said perils a high priority, Eggman keeps surviving, and he keeps trucking on.

Why? Because main villain immunity, yes, but compared to Bowser the fire-breathing turtle, and Ganon the occasional boar-shaped demigod, a human scientist managing to persist for as long as he has is still impressive even without the out-of-universe justification. This detail of his character is even incorporated into his boss fights: the Egg Viper battle ends with a kamikaze attack. The Mega Death Egg Robot had a second machine stored inside it, keeping up where the fight left off as the first one conks out. S3&K in its entirety was practically dedicated to his absolute refusal to call it quits.

He doesn't give up. He never gives up. And he's not the type to piss his pants either. When the odds are stacked against him, he will either give it his all with much gnashing of teeth, or he'll retreat because it's the tactically sound thing to do. What he doesn't do is show fear and plead for his life. (Unleashed doesn't count, that was a Wily ploy.)

He hates Sonic.

Or else he wouldn't have made this.

You would think this would go without saying. You have not spent enough time in the Sonic community. I wish I was you. (Then again, I met my friends through it...)

There are many people - many, many, many people - who will vehemently drill into your head with the trustworthy assurance of a SonicTuber that Dr. Eggman, arch-nemesis of Sonic the Hedgehog, world's longest Attempted Sonic Murderer champion, secretly likes the guy deep down, and would never wish for the Blue Blur to actually kick the bucket for good. They claim that when push comes to shove, the old doctor would never fully commit to world domination, because he simply enjoys his bouts with Sonic too much.

For X!Eggman? Probably.

Boom Eggman? Definitely.

Game Eggman? The Eggman? No.

Eggman hates Sonic. Eggman loathes Sonic, and he loathes the rest of his multicolored accomplices just as fiercely. The amount of times he has tried to bust a cap in Sonic's ass is plausibly in the triple digits. He has subjected Sonic to all kinds of threatening, terrifying situations with the explicit purpose of either killing him or hitting him where it hurts. He shows happiness when Sonic is in pain, or has appeared to have been vanquished by his efforts. What about any of this suggests that he likes him? Because of respect?

Now yes, that much is true. It's evident that Eggman respects Sonic as an opponent who can keep up with him, and it's true that he enjoys their battles to an extent. That's not the same thing as actually liking the guy on a personal level. For all the respect he may wield, he would still gladly rid himself of the hedgehog the first chance he gets. Remember the big moment in SA2 in which he launched Sonic into space? He bid his farewell, in a semi-mocking tone, then went right back to business like it was nothing. And what about Forces? What did he plan on doing with Sonic once he got bored of waving his victory in his enemy's face? That's right, he planned on slamming the red button on him. Sorry you had to find out this way, that's what happens when you don't Play The Game.

Ivo Robotnik is a jovial man, but his goals are dead serious. He wants his empire more than anything else in the world, and he will get it. For whatever thrills their encounters may provide, he would piss on Sonic's grave without a moment's hesitation in order to make progress with his ambitions. If he wasn't serious about taking over the world... why the fuck would he do all that he does? Do you really think he spends all that time researching ancient tablets because he wants to be Sonic's friend? Do you think he enslaves alien races because it's not like he likes Sonic or anything baka kawaii desu (please don't unfollow me, I won't do it again)? I don't think so, chum. There'd be no game, and no franchise, if Eggman wasn't coming up with ways to put him in an early grave. And then probably vandalize the grave after.

---

If you understand all of these points, and if you can take to them, then I believe you should have what it takes to write a good, or even great, portrayal of Dr. Ivo "EDP445" Robotnik. No portrayal is going to be one-and-one with that of another, there'll always be subtle distinctions depending on the writer, but you'll be fine as long as he's not a softie or a fool who only exists to be replaced with a gay platypus.

Oh and, one last thing...

Heroes manual lied to you. Sorry, English fandom.

#Get a Load of Traits #Opinion #Dr. Eggman

[syrinq]

in this one i'm collecting air for my girlfriend

aka syrinq should post dreamlog things when she gets them so she doesn't get a backlog for 3+ months to catch up with. but i also prefer to do everything in 1 go so it's all done and over with, but the minus of that is that i put everything off & it then takes one Full Day to complete said Task. sigh. i can never win at life

anyway.

last night i had a dream about going to some pool/wrestling class to cheer on my Imaginary Dream Girlfriend, because she wanted to try out something new

we get to some resort and there's a queue, so we wait patiently in the courtyard by sitting around, hanging about, reading magazines together and having lunch etc. etc. this takes several hours because this was an extremely popular class with an extremely long fucking queue. sigh. at least the environment was cool & looked something like this

it goes from afternoon to sunset. the queue shortens by a lot but we're still waiting. my gf gets unwell and suddenly faints. awesome. i'm fucking panicking, there's several maori/similar culture people around. they're either renting rooms there or they actually lived there (leaning towards the latter).

there's one lady called Bug who knows how to treat my gf. she says all people around have to perform a certain breathing technique by pinching their nose. if enough people did this, it'd change the chemicals in the air (or something like that) & send idk a brain signal so she'd wake up.

unfortunately for me, there's not enough people around to try this. so we gotta 'recruit' people around the resort and outsider friends to help out, like we're asking the entire world to aid goku's spirit bomb or whatever. so there's eventually mario & gang (luigi, toads, princesses). other disney princesses and characters. maybe sprinkle some other game characters in there idk and it was like this for me

and it's still not enough people. god fucking damn my gf has a fucking disease or something. Bug says we still need a few more people. we're like 2 short. so i mention that we can still call in goofy the janitor & bowser. everyone PROTESTS HEAVILY at the idea of bowser coming around, because, you know, bowser.

i tell them he's actually chill and won't pull anything freaky if it's for a life-or-death situation. like he's my friend (yeah fine i'm okay with that). everyone then reluctantly agrees and i call up the real bowser and goofy the janitor. bowser's there practically immediately, sunbathing until the last person's here. i notice cracks are forming in the architecture around us, and the weather is getting weird. i can only hope the Lord And Saviour Goofy the Janitor arrives soon

then the POV shifts. i am witnessing goofy the janitor in his janitor van, that looks colourful like the mystery machine. he's racing chaotically on a highway that's falling apart rapidly, thanks to the surrounding environment that's getting worse by the second. there's heavy rain and a dark thunderstorm going on. cyclones are appearing on sea in the distance. there's ginormous water spheres rising from the seas, that are covered by an electrical shield like it's a fucking plasma ball. it's protecting what's growing inside- phallic alien monsters (that really just look like khezu monster hunter) that grow out of blue sperm cells the size of giraffes. so you can only imagine how big the final beast is

so, you know, world is obviously falling apart due to reasons unknown. goofy has to fucking gta it across high way gaps and whatever to nearly crash land into the resort courtyard.

FINALLY GOD DAMN HE'S HERE we all do the breathing technique in an extremely rushed manner. my gf FINALLY WAKES UP THANK GOD I'M NO LONGER WORRIED but now we have to deal with *hand gesture to outside* world falling apart.

so we fetch rubber boats, because the resort just has these and we're conveniently next to a sea, and we open the door to the inside of the resort. it's been destroyed and morphed, and it pretty much looks like a danger slide downhill. we split up in teams and get into the boats to go down.

#mfw a girl i haven't seen in ~15 years has filled the position of dream gf for about 2-3 times now #and i'm always wondering if i had a crush on her as a 6-8yo kid but just didn't know wtf a crush was (skull emoji) #then i realise that the 'vibe' she had was different compared to other friends/girls i knew at the time #then getting a similar vibe with 1-2 other girls as a teen and just writing it off as finding them attractive #because it wasn't as near as ''heavy and load-bearing'' as a ''regular crush on a boy i didn't know'' (skull emoji) #probably because i was actually somewhat friends with all these girls and thinking back on it i'm like. #you stupid fuck you totally would've wanted to hold hands or whatever you just knew fuck all then (real skull emoji moment) #god. what a world i live in. thanks my very own dreams for telling me i might've been gayer than thought before i actually knew i was bi #was anyone going to tell me that somewhat crushing on a girl friend would hit different than crushing on a boy i didn't talk to in puberty #or did i have to learn that myself thanks to a resort visit and the world falling apart in my dreams. what the fuck #my stupid ass not knowing how crushes worked until i was 'talked into it' my best friend at the time at 11 and i was like oh. #*picks up personality trait* i guess i'll crush on this guy you mentioned had the same interests as me i guess???? for some reason???? #me always thinking i liked shy guys but then i grow up and realise i just like funny silly sweet guys 'n girls (skull emoji). girl. wtf #and then wondering if i actually did have crushes throughout puberty or it was just general attraction to looks. uhm. weird man #dreamlog

[headspace-hotel]

Native Plant Info Masterlist...2!

This will be a USA centric post sadly, mostly focused on the East, since I am unfamiliar with resources outside of my area.

iNaturalist lets you upload pictures of any organisms and get them identified by the community, but if you don't want to upload, you can still lurk and look through all the photos being posted in your area to develop familiarity with the plants

Wildflower Search lets you toggle between photos of leaves, flowers, fruits etc. of each plant, gives loads of links to other sites that provide info, lets you search by flower color, plant type, time of year, and about a dozen other search criteria- very cool site

Wildflower.org is another very good site- has a search function where you can search plants by various traits and qualities

Find native plants by the number of butterflies that use them

Butterfly host plant list

Keystone species for every USA ecoregion for butterflies and bees

UNC Chapel Hill's 2022 Flora of the Southeastern United States. The ultimate EXHAUSTIVE compendium of plants. You can download it but beware it is over 2,000 pages long

Illinois Wildflowers is an excellent resource for plants found throughout the southeast and Midwest

Virginia Wildflowers

Northern Forest Atlas Awesome high quality photos of trees and leaves, buds, etc.

Name That Plant is a great resource focused on the Carolinas and Georgia

Maryland Biodiversity has much information on plants and many other creatures

Sarracenia.com is all about carnivorous plants

Native Beeology is focused on native bees of New York State

Also try looking up "[your state] native plant society" as many states have one! It could be a great way to find opportunities to get involved.

#usa centric #native plants #native plant gardening #gardening #plants #nature #flowers #bees #save the bees #no lawns #kill your lawn #fuck lawns #biodiversity #conservation #us centric #trees

[ddejavvu]

pairing: anakin skywalker x reader:

summary: anakin fucks people that remind him of you

warnings: smut, minors dni. intense obsession (it's anakin), dubious fantasies, he doesn't treat his hookups very well

for @hanasnx who i have left waiting for far too long for this.

anakin fucks people that remind him of you.

he's hopelessly, obsessively in love with you. that much has been true since he'd met you. but you're with someone else, and no matter how much he tries willing your relationship to end; no matter how long he spends in some devilish imitation of prayer to the only god he knows, the Force, you're happy with another.

eventually, squeezing his eyes shut and picturing your face isn't enough to get him to shoot a load all over his stomach. he does it too many times, he rubs his cock raw and the novelty fades.

he makes it a point to inhale when he's near you, especially if you grace him with a hug. he commits the smell of your body spray to memory, and scours every care shop he can find until he picks up a bottle that matches your scent. he screams his throat raw into the pillow that he's sprayed with your smell as he fucks his fist. this works for a bit, but like the addiction you are, it fades again. he needs more.

he doesn't go out looking for someone like you, but when he spots a familiar haircut across the dingy lower-level bar that makes his cock twitch, he goes after them. it's not you, their face is less defined and rounder at the forehead, but he gets a terrible, awful, evil idea and he coaxes them to the back corner for a quick fuck. he squeezes his eyes shut and when they try kissing him and it doesn't bring with it a rush of your scent, he pushes them away and keeps them pinned to the wall while he jackhammers into them.

it gets worse, spiraling, spiraling, spiraling until he's fixating on a stranger with your cheekbones, a passerby whose voice sounds like yours. he lets them display their similar traits; cheekbones gets the privilege of his nose buried against their face and singsong gets to moan. if cheekbones dares moan though- it's not your voice, and he steals the breath from their lungs for just long enough to fuck it out between their hips and hike his pants back up.

the more he fucks, the worse he gets. he doesn't know he's moaning your name until someone has the gall to correct him, a breathy, "No, no, I'm- I'm Raya.'

Anakin kicks up a panicked, grunting wail as your face shatters and falls from his mind, the sound guttural and angry as he pins Raya's wrists beside their head. they're touching him but not like you would, so they're not allowed to touch him anymore. and they said their name was not yours, so they're not allowed to talk anymore. and they're ruining his fantasy, so would they just shut up so he can finish already? His raging cry covers the most part of their name but doesn't erase it; anakin has to muzzle them with his large hand to get enough of his fantasy back to where he's able to spill into your warm, wet hole, and he doesn't offer them so much as a courtesy kiss on the way out.

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker scenario #anakin skywalker oneshot #anakin skywalker one-shot #anakin skywalker one shot #anakin skywalker headcanon #anakin skywalker headcanons #anakin skywalker hcs #anakin skywalker hc #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker fanfic #anakin skywalker fic #anakin skywalker blurb #anakin skywalker drabble #anakin skywalker dialogue #anakin skywalker fluff #anakin skywalker smut

[victorluvsalice]

We’re up to Fall Saturday in the Chill Save today, and Smiler had places to be today! First up was, well, home, coming back from a solid night of fishing for the man to chat with their mailbox and -- now that they could afford it -- purchase and read the Ultimate Vampire Tome! Had to max out that Vampire Lore skill after all! Also had to complete their homework -- and while they were busy doing that, I bought them a bunch of stuff! Stuff like those new suitcase shelves, which I am like 99% certain are part of the Arcade Fanpack I got from Cepzid and Hakbar. Not sure how they fit into the arcade theme, but they’re cool nonetheless, and provide a good place for Smiler to display some of their treasures, like MySims, fossils, and their cool space rock. :) I also bought them a bunch of new traits from the Rewards store with their accumulated satisfaction points:

Gym Rat, since they like Fitness and they may as well get more fun out of it

Always Welcome, since they’re supposed to be the friendly person everyone loves, so why not be the kind of person who can get away with anything at a person’s house?

Great Storyteller, as it fit their vibe of “friendliest person in the world” -- why shouldn’t they be great at stories at this point?

Shameless, as “never gets Embarrassed” totally fits their “positive vibes only” lifestyle

Carefree, as “never gets Tense” ALSO fits that lifestyle

And with that all out of the way, Smiler took a shower, got fined for taking a shower, went and started the repeat process on that accursed “Water Conservation” NAP (I will see you ENDED, NAP), and went off to their second place of the day --

School Spirit Day! Yup, that had come back around again, and as a member in good standing with the Spirit Squad, Smiler needed to participate. Participating in their case meant:

-->Meeting, insta-friending, and -- after some conversation -- getting a drink out of visiting Sim Heath (dark-skinned red-headed fellow)

-->Hanging out with Larry the Lobster, also known as Lilith Pleasant, indulging in some high-fives and taking some selfies

-->And playing a round of juice pong with stripey-shirted Desmond! Who, it must be said, was very good at the game. While Smiler. . .had a bit of an off day. Things started out poorly with a few missed throws. . .

#sims 4 #the lazy save #smiler always #the smiler #yeah I really wanna say those suitcases are from the Arcade Fanpack #again not sure how they fit with the theme but they are cool regardless #and a great way to display some of the stuff that just got stuck in Smiler's inventory before #finally you get to see their space rock #and I actually got the 'Most Interesting Sim In The World' after buying all those traits for Smiler #which felt appropriate given how much personality I've been loading on them XD #come on they had to at LEAST have Shameless and Carefree #and yup School Spirit Day again #which may not be that much but is at least better than the Game Day party #at least you get juice pong! #queued

[youtellmeman]

Hello ma’am 😈 I am here to request 😈 I’m thinking neteyam and reader are like enemies😡 they do not like each other okay but somewhere somehow they accidentally perform tsaheylu with each other and then they bang 😦

Yuh first request done-zo I really enjoyed writing this so i hope you like it.

Neteyam Sully x Fem!Na'vi!reader

Rated R

includes- smut, ma as a pet name, baby as a pet name, fingering, p in v, dirty talk, fem genitailia, accidental tsaheylu

In this tsaheylu is only explicitly erotic the first time around and it can be used to simply better understand what your mate is thinking/feeling.

Na'vi word translations

tiwan- love, wiya- damn, tewng- loincloth, knalu- fuck, Uvang- damn, skxwang- moron,imu’ta- bitch

italics= spoken in na'vi

Hating Neteyam, had been easy. After all it was all you'd ever known when it came to the blue boy. You’d always seen him as so, so irritating.

He always thought he knew better, better than his siblings, better than the other kids in the village, and better than you. That being eldest son to the Olo’eyktan made him so much smarter than those his age and unfortunately it seemed that trait would follow him to his grave as even now, after being accepted into the clan as an adult,he held himself to be so all knowing.

“What are you doing out here?” the voice came from behind you, his voice. “This area of the forest is dangerous, you should have someone with you.”

“Why, because I am incapable of taking care of myself?” It's a loaded question,but you can't help the way he is so quick to get under your skin. Whipping around to meet his citron eyes, raising a brow when you hear him scoff to himself.

“Why must you make everything into conflict?”

“Why must you be an imu’ta who refuses to let me live in peace.” I bite back and the air between us grows tense, eyes boring into eachothers waiting for one of us to break.

“Damn it, you are so difficult for what? I am simply looking out for you, it is dangerous, we both know this.” he huffs angrily out his nose and his tail thumbs against the ground with his growing anger.

“Have you considered that perhaps I don’t need anyone looking out for me? Especially not you, now leave me be and let me hunt in peace.” You roll your eyes and without waiting for a  response you start to walk. Slinging your bow over your shoulder as you search for a new, quiet place to hunt.

“How dare you turn your back to me!” You can hear his steps speeding up after you resulting in your pace speeding as well until he manages to catch you. His slender fingers wrapping around your wrist spinning you face him. “You dare disrespect the future-”

“Future! You said it yourself!” You cut him off hissing the words at him angrily, “You hold no authority over me Neteyam so cease this useless display of power. Power that you do not have.” You spit. And maybe if you’d been less focused on the current shouting match you were having you would’ve noticed the small hand wrapping around your queue.

“Regardless of whatever you may think I am owed respect!” He snarls back and before you can you feel a sudden rush through your system, something so new yet familiar and immediately your eyes leave Neteyams face to focus on finding what's caused this surge of energy and what you can only describe as feeling. You find it immediately, honing in the little blue hand wrapped around your queue, your queue that was currently connected to, to…

“Tuktirey!” It's Neteyams voice that cuts through the silence though you can barely hear him,you can barely hear him with the wave of shock that flows through your body clogging your ears like water.

 You can tell he's scolding her for a minute or two before she's shooed away, leaving you two alone still connected and you can feel it starting to ebb its way to the surface, the lust. Pupils blown wide as you find Neteyams eyes once more.

You can't find the words to ask why in the world Tuk would think that it’d be okay to connecther brother and yourself. All you can do is search his face and body for any sign he’s feeling what you are, and boy do you find it. Whether it be the rapid rise and fall of his chest or the tent in his tewng growing by the second. 

Opening your mouth trying to find the words but you fail once more, or really you're cut off by the feeling of lips against yours as his hand finds its way to the base of your neck holding you close while the other pulls you in by the waist. And as his hips slot themselves so perfectly against yours you try to find some sliver of restraint, a tiny ounce of strength that will let you rip yourself away from him. You come up empty handed.

Hands finding their way to his hair pulling at the roots as you press him closer, pulling a heavenly groan from his lips.You find yourself pulling him back with you until your back meets tree, pulling back for a ragged breath. 

“Holy mother.” You huff out in between breaths, Neteyam on the other hand has let his mouth wander from your jaw to neck, sucking dark purple marks onto the sensitive skin about your collar bone intermittently letting his fangs drag against the new purple markings, before coming back up.  Neteyam kisses like he wants to consume you completely, it's a mess of teeth and spit as you both battle for dominance, it’s when he bites at your bottom lip that you give up  on grasping at the reins letting him take complete control.

As your mouths clash Neteyam gets busy with his hands pulling the knot at the side of your loincloth before hoisting one of your legs up into his hip. Letting the arm that's not holding your leg slide between your bodies, finger sliding down your slick dampened lips, moving between tracing around your clit to moving downward to tease at your fluttering entrance. He does this a few times before you grow tired of his teasing. Pulling back to let your head rest on the bark of the tree.

“Quit it and do something, or are you just as incapable of pleasing a woman as you are at leaving me alo- ohh!” A surprised moan escapes your lips before you can finish the taunt.

“Wiya, you talk a lot.” The smug look that covers his face would have you rolling your eyes if you weren’t so focused on trying to keep them open enough to see anything at all. The annoying bastard had slipped in a finger while you were mouthing off, curling it to hit that spongy sweet spot within while letting his thumb rub lazy circles on your bud. “If I knew all it’d take to shut you up would be to stick a finger in you I woulda done it long ago.” He’s the one taunting now.

“Shut up you skxwang- hah- For you to think I would’ve ever let you touch me like this before. You clearly don’t know everything you claim.” You bite back best you can, and while you know your words hardly have any merit while you’re literally humping the palm of his land looking for more.

“Such a smart fucking mouth, lets see how that changes after I have you cumming around my fingers, hmm?” He leans close while growling out his retort, sliding in another finger as he speaks. And god, it should be criminal that it's him making you feel so incredibly good.

“Fuck Neteyam.” You whimper out and his fingers speed up their unrelenting attack, consistently hitting that sweet spot and thumb moving so quickly against that bundle of nerves it has your knees ready to buckle. “Shit, I-I need more.” You're whining against his neck now, head resting against his shoulder as he continues his assault and you can feel his chest rumble with the groan that leaves his lips.

“You want my cock baby? You want it real bad?” You can only imagine the pride on his face , but none of that matters right now, not when you really really do. So all you can do is nod as moans and groans slip from your lips at the thought.

“No, need to hear you say it. You had so much to say earlier ma , what happened?” It’s the smugness in his voice that leads you to fight against what he wants from you.

“Fuck you.” It’s practically a pant as you pull your head back from the crevice of his neck and rest it against the tree that has you sandwiched between Neteyam. Peering at him from your lidded eyes.

“Tsk tsk, not what I asked for.” He shakes his head and the small grin he wears is nothing but predatory. “You want to cum by my hands, you're gonna do what I say.  " The pace he's picked up at the point is unforgiving, his fingers barely even thrust the tips simply rubbing against your most sensitive spot in a way that has you seeing stars and you can feel the coil in your stomach growing dangerously taut. But it's like he can see it on your face that you're growing close, and unfortunately he stands true to his words because as soon as you feel yourself about to teeter over the edge he stops. Leaving you withering against him.

“Nete-” 

“Say it.” There's no room for negotiation in his tone, “Say it or you don’t get to cum and if you dont cum on my fingers first you sure as hell aren't getting my cock.” 

It's almost pathetic how quick your resolve crumbles.

“I want you, please. Neteyam I want you please.”

“Say you need it.” Now he's just being mean cause he can.

“Fucking hell, need your cock so bad Neteyam, please.” Your breathing is ragged as you practically beg and he can hear the aggravation behind your voice.

“Not so hard is it, Tiyawn?” He quips as his fingers start to move again, thumb finding your clit as his index and middle continue the assault on the inside. And with you being so close prior it doesn’t take nearly anytime at all before your ether again, on the edge of complete euphoria just needing one last push. Push coming in the form of the third finger that ends up slamming into you, filling you up so completely and sending you crashing into waves of ecstasy. Hands finding his shoulders, nails leaving crescent marks in the blade of it as you ride your orgasm. Neteyam helps you through it, paying attention to your complete reaction while his fingered pump inside of you. 

Sliding out once he's sure you’ve enjoyed the best of it,dropping your hip to your side, giving you one more openmouthed kiss before spinning you around leaving you to brace yourself on the tree that was once digging into your back. His hand finds the small of your back pushing you to be bent, arching subconsciously, readying yourself for what's to come.

You look over your shoulder just in time to see him rip the string of his tewng in a rush to move it out the way, letting his length spring up and hit his stomach.

To say that Neteyam was well endowed would be an understatement, youd heard rumors before but holy mother they didn’t do him justice. He made eye contact with you as he grabbed himself by the base getting ready to line himself up with your core.

“Like what you see?” And of course he’s cocky about this too. Neteyam raises a playful eyebrow.

“Thought you'd be bigger.” It's a lie, but you can't let his ego go unchecked. Though it doesn't seem too much as he simply sucks his teeth in response, letting a toothy grin spread across his face.

“Mhm, that’s why I can see you clenching at the sight of it then?” He retorts, still smiling as he moves, letting his tip slide between your lips, catching at your entrance. A move that has both of you shuddering in anticipation.

“Neteyam!” you whine out tired of waiting, pushing your ass back with a wiggle in anticipation and to hopefully get him to act sooner.

“Fuck, yeah okay i'm coming.” You can hear him mutter behind you. Properly lining himself this time before pushing in slowly, the girth of his head alone has you gasping for air. He’s slow to work himself in, not wanting to let his desperation for release lead to you being hurt. Eventually however he does bottom out and once he does the both of you let out sighs of relief. He gives you a moment to adjust before beginning to move, pulling back to grind back into you. 

Usually this soft caring pace would leave you purring, but this is Neteyam and the fact that he just spent his time finger fucking you so good you see stars just to treat you like glass has you grinding your teeth in want for more.

“More.” You demand throwing a lust filled glare over your shoulder.

“Uvang, you feel so tight around me.” You're not even sure Neteyam heard you, his brows are pulled together and eyes scrunched in pleasure. 

“Knalu Neteyam, harder!” You snap, punctuating your sentence by pushing back onto his cock which seems to break his trance. 

“Eywa, why can't you let me enjoy this in peace?” His nostrils flare and eyes snap open boring into your own. Leaning forward he braces holds you by your shoulders. Sliding out till only his head is left inside of you before slamming back into you with enough strength to bruise. Switching from his heart shatteringly slow movement to thrusts that could shake Pandora itself. Thrusts that leave you gasping for air that's being knocked out of your lungs with every slam of his hips into yours. 

“Oh Eywa! Neteyam fuck, yes!”  Your moans are practically prayers as they fill the air around you, Not that he's being any quieter than you are. Moaning and groaning as he leans down to press wet kisses to your spine.

“Shit you feel so good Ma, fucking hell. Its like you were made to be wrapped around my cock, my perfect fucking pussy for the taking ain’t that right. ‘M gonna ruin you baby, mold this cunt to my cock. No one else could make you feel this good right Ma, c'mon tell me i'm right.” It’s hard to make out most of his rambles as he ruts into you like something feral, but you manage nonetheless.

“Fuck,  yes Neteyam no one’s as good as you. No one could make me feel- oh my- feel half as good as you, shit!” You say back telling him whatever he wants to hear, telling him the truth. And it has him speeding up at which point you thought was impossible as he continues to ramble on and on about how good you feel around him against the skin of your back. One of his hands manage to find their way around your waist and to your clit, rubbing tight circles while his noises grow more animalistic by the minute and it has you fluttering around him causing him to twitch within you. The both of your peaks growing increasingly closer. 

“I'm gonna cum, Net, fuck dont stop!” you warn him of your upcoming release and you can feel the way the knowledge fuels him, his grip on your shoulder tightening as he drills into you with fervor. 

“Cum for me tiwan, wanna feel you cum around me, cmon.” He urges you on and soon enough it comes. Surginging through you like electricity, punctuated by a high pitched whine as your legs tremble. Neteyam fucking you through it fighting to hold off his own upcoming orgasm in lew of making sure you can enjoy yours to the fullest and soon enough you start to come down, the way you clench becoming softer and more spaced out as you begin to take deep breaths in order to ground yourself. 

It only takes a few more pumps before the euphoria is hitting him like a splash of cold water and he’s quick to pull out and spill his seed on the curve of your ass and back, groaning your name slowly as he works his way through it.

Eventually you both restore enough air in your lungs to disconnect yourselves and get cleaned up. Finding a small and unoccupied pond to wash his essence of yourself along with the sweat you'd worked up along the way before slipping your clothes back on and helping him repair the string of his loincloth well enough that it would not fall off on his trek through the village. 

Still once you're both clothed you both take a few moments to be together and fully grasp the fact of what this connection means for the both of you. It's then that you finally find the words you’d lost earlier.

“Why did tuk do it? Why did she connect us?” You ask, your eyes finding his in confusion.

“Our parents.” He starts, “ Sometimes they fight and sometimes when they do they perform tsaheylu. In order to better understand what the other is feeling. She thought it would help us ‘get along’” he finishes explaining and you can't help but laugh at the childlike innocence of it all.

“How sweet in theory I suppose.” You smile up at him stifling a few laughs.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “Remind me to thank her when we get back.” At that you roll your eyes and smack him in the shoulder. “Hey!”

——————

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[ginnsbaker]

In Silent Screams (1/3)

She clutches the steering wheel, knuckles white, struggling with the realization of what she's done. She's betrayed you. It wasn't just a lapse in judgment, it was a deliberate decision, a yielding to curiosity, to loneliness, to that inexplicable pull towards someone who isn’t you.

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

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

Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Part I 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ready to go?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wanda—”

“Good night.”

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

She dials Agatha's number.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He laughs, nodding in concession. “Touche.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

“Oh? How was that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

-

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

-

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A pause ensues, both understanding the unsaid implications. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

“Whatever you say, babe.”

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

-

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All he says is, “I know. I'm sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

To just be.

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

-

“Do you love me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wanda, wait.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, but—”

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

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

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

“But there are lines we’ve crossed—”

“Lines society drew for us.”

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

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

And is this one of her 'true' desires?

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

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