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fortuositywritings · 3 years ago

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I Said No (Wanda x R): Pt 9

Summary: You get your ass handed to you. You have fun times with Wanda only for a rude awakening.

Warnings: a lot of cursing, alcohol

If anyone asks her, Laura loves her cousin. She loves you. She really, really does. But sometimes you were a bit of a pain or rather a handful and everyone knows pregnant women should not be carrying too much. So, she can’t help but be glad that there are other people here to help lighten the load.

Is it wrong that lightening the load includes allowing her husband’s ex-assassin of a best friend to basically manhandle you, said cousin she claims to love so much, at 6am in the morning? It may be a little worrisome, yes. But what is really wrong here is how she is sitting front and center, watching it all happen in front of her a little too amusedly.

Could you really blame her though? She’s pregnant. She knows she wouldn’t be able to stand watching you get thrown around, especially on her swollen feet.

It seems everyone woke up early to watch Nat “teach you self-defense”. You’ve been outside for an hour now and no one has moved from their seats. Oh, no that’s a lie. Clint did go inside once, only for him to come right back offering everyone some lemonade. Even the critters are there sitting criss cross next to Pietro on the grass sipping on their lemonades.

“So when does the self-defense part start?” you ask, out of breath. You weren’t doing anything, but falling on your ass repeatedly sure makes one sweat.

“When you start defending yourself,” Nat quips. You respond with a baffled, “What?!”

“Arms up, Y/N!” you hear your cousin shout as you prepare yourself to get thrown again.

“Look, if you are still mad about the Yelena Incident, I’m sure there could have been another less violent way to get your frustrations out.” Nat rolls her eyes and in what feels like a second, there are legs wrapped around your head in not a sexy way and you are flipped onto the ground.

“OH!!!” Everyone yells, as you feel the wind knock out of you. You hear the kids shouting, “Do it again!”

“No, don’t do it again,” you wheeze out. You feel someone rush to your side.

“Are you okay?�� Wanda helps you sit up. An angel, that woman. She turns to glare at Nat. “Did you really have to do that?”

“Relax, she’s fine.” Nat answers, not bothered in any way. Either she’s blind or she’s delusional thinking you took her go-to take-down-the-bad-guy move like a simple scratch on the knee. Wanda gets visibly upset by Nat’s careless demeanor, little wisps of red magic trickling from her hand. She moves to confront Natasha and you think it might be you that is delusional when you stop Wanda, red wisps tickling your hand, and say, “It’s okay. I’m good.”

“See!” Nat throws her hands up.

“You should have put your arms up,” your cousin says off to the side. You narrow your eyes at her after Wanda helps you up. “Yes, Laura. Thank you so much. That would have really saved me from her spinny-upsidedown-flippity-whateverthefuck that was.”

Sam and Clint snicker beside your cousin at your description of Nat’s signature move. She gives you the watch-your-language look that you completely ignore. “Why don’t you come and show me how that was meant to help?”

“Can’t. Pregnant. Sorry,” your cousin motions to her belly. You shake your head, “Excuses, excuses.”

“I do know some self-defense though and I think it is really important to learn so I’m rooting for you on the side lines,” Laura adds. Not believing a word she said, you ask, “And who taught you self-defense? ‘Cause I know for a fact it wasn’t Nat. You wouldn’t be cruel enough to put me through the same torture.”

“I taught her. She’s a pretty decent shot too,” Clint admits proudly.

“No way. You can shoot?” Sam looks at Laura as skeptical as you do. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Hun, bring out your gear,” your cousin says, getting everyone excited. Pietro and Sam help her stand and move over to get a clear shot of where Clint put up a target. Everyone stands aside and watches in anticipation when Clint hands his wife a bow and an arrow. She nocks the arrow back, aims, shoots, and nearly hits the bullseye, leaving everyone’s mouth agape.

“Okay, impressive,” Sam says.

“No way. You made that look way too easy. Let me try,” you say, wanting to give it a go, and a go you give alright, the arrow ricocheting off a tree (not even the tree that had the target on it) and heading towards Peter’s face. Luckily his reflexes or what he’s described as some kind of tingle kicks in and he catches the arrow on time.

You let out a sigh of relief seeing that you have not accidentally killed someone. You didn’t want to be a murderer let alone be known as the asshole that killed Spiderman by accident. You flood Peter’s ears with apologies and though he says it’s all good, you still feel really bad and ask Wanda if she could help you bake him some cookies or something later.

Everyone heads inside after that near death experience. Everyone but you and Nat who says, “Playtime’s over. Let’s do this for real now.”

“Wait, that wasn’t it?!”

Another two hours go by. Wanda wonders why you haven’t barged in the room yet to “bother” her. You should have been done undergoing Nat’s painful lesson by now. Finding it odd that you have yet to make an appearance, Wanda sets out to find you. She sees Natasha sitting at the kitchen table. When she asks her about your whereabouts and gets a “Who knows” as a response, she knows something is up. Nat always knows, so Wanda presses, “What did she say and where did you leave her?”

Natasha eventually tells her where you are. Wanda finds you outside, hosing yourself off. You are covered in mud, which Wanda can only assume was Nat’s doing. “Why did you have to antagonize her?”

You look up to see Wanda staring at you unimpressed, arms crossed and all. You defend, “You have to admit, had you the opportunity, you would have done the same.”

“You mean tell her you’ve now had two Romanov’s thighs around your head and then ask where her mom was because you wanted to ‘complete the set’,” Wanda says, uncrossing her arms to do air quotes.

“Come on, let me have this, Wanda. You should have seen it! It was glorious. The set up, the delivery, the punch,” you throw your arms in the air dramatically, hose in hand splashing water everywhere. Your body aches and you yelp, “Ow.”

Wanda only shakes her head at you. You pout and turn the hose off. “I’ve never met her mom, but she probably would’ve at least chuckled appreciating a good line. I know Yelena for sure would’ve tried not to giggle before kicking my ass as well.”

Wanda doesn’t mean to let out the grunt of annoyance at the mention of this Yelena, but it happens. Luckily, you either don’t hear it or ignore it as you pass by her, stopping to take off your shoes by the door. Before heading inside, you turn to her and coyly ask, “Do you think you could help me wash some of the mud away upstairs? I don’t think I can reach some parts on my own.”

It doesn’t take a psychic to know Wanda helping you scrub your back is not what you actually have in mind. She tries her best not to stutter as she says, “Of course, what are friends for?”

You head up to the shower first. Wanda waits downstairs two minutes before following up, thinking it was enough time for it not to seem suspicious. Clint, who is in the laundry room, though back turned the whole time, still notices and pipes up right as Wanda takes the first step up.

“Just keep in mind the acoustics of the bathroom,” he warns Wanda. Though he doesn’t see her, based on the clumsy rushed steps after, he knows she was blushing the whole way upstairs.

Having Wanda in the shower, double entendre intended, proves to be a good thing because it turns out you do in fact need help scrubbing some of the mud that somehow made it down your back. Wanda gets on your case again about agitating Nat but it’s hard to really focus on what she’s saying when her hands are all over you, even if she is just scrubbing you down.

An hour later, Laura and Nat sit at the kitchen table and try not to laugh at you struggling with the measuring cups. Sam holds no reservations in laughing in your face. “How does a grown ass woman not know how to measure some flour?”

Wanda makes a face and he corrects himself, “I hear how that sounded. Let me rephrase. How does a grown ass adult who has had to pass middle school to get into college not know how to measure some flour?”

“Unnecessary jibe at my education aside, Sam, I appreciate you rephrasing that. Back to the matter at hand, I’d like to see you try, bitch,” you challenge him, handing over all the measuring kitchen equipment.

“Gladly.” He takes your place, leaving you to go stand beside Wanda. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

You all watch him as he looks over the recipe. You think he is just bluffing about his skills, making a grand show of it all. That is until he turns back to Wanda to ask, “Two batches, right?” Then at her nod, he goes into British Bake Off mode or whatever you would call x game mode for baking.

Seeing him confidently measuring ingredient after ingredient, you lean over to Wanda and ask under your breath, “Is he doing it right?”

“Yes, he is.”

“Damn it,” you huff out. Sam overhears and chuckles, his ego inflating by the minute. You pout at Sam having taken over what was meant to be a fun activity for you and Wanda to do, but he seems like he is really enjoying showing off so you can’t be too mad. Wanda finds your pout too cute and can’t help but press a quick kiss to your lips, surprising you both. You are both blushing and she tries to play it off cool. “You did say whenever I wanted.”

“I did say that, yes,” you recall. She smiles and then gives you another chaste kiss, more confidently this time, before heading over to Sam. “Alright, leave Y/N to do something, show off.”

Meanwhile, you are trying to calm your racing heart at her kissing you so openly, which is when you realize you have an audience. You’re afraid to see if Laura and Nat saw. You turn around slowly. They clearly did, your cousin’s raised eyebrow indicating so. It makes you blush harder, so you turn back around and go to see what you can do.

Wanda and Sam give you the job of rolling the cookie dough into little balls after moving you away from setting the oven heat because you tried to turn up the heat by double in order to “bake the cookies faster”. They explain why you couldn’t do that.

“Yeah, I knew that,” you say, as you lower the temperature back down. “I was just testing you guys.”

No one believes you but they don’t say anything. Nat and your cousin watch with interest as Wanda and Sam pull your hand full of raw dough away from your mouth when you try to taste it. You lie and say you were testing them again.

Peter and Pietro trail into the kitchen at the smell of the cookies baking. Sam takes them out once they are ready. Pietro tries to grab a cookie first, but you are faster, smacking his hand away. “Peter gets the first cookie. They were meant to be for him.”

Peter, who has been lingering shyly behind Pietro, perks up. He asks you, “Why?”

“For nearly killing you. Sorry about that. Sam technically did nearly everything, which might have been for the best given my lack of skills in the kitchen. But it’s the thought, right?” you ramble.

“You didn’t have to, but thank you. I won’t say no to cookies. They all look good. Let’s just all dig in,” Peter says, seeing Pietro’s grumbly face. Pietro cheers up at that and mutters, “Finally.”

Laura sees you and the guys reaching for a cookie and warns, “Careful, they’re hot,” but the cookies are already in your mouths.

“Fuck!” “Shit!” “H-h-hot!” All three of you yell but none of you spit the cookies out. Instead, you all choose to look ridiculous cooling the cookies with your mouths open. Sam looks at you three like the dumbasses you are. Your cousin and Nat look unfazed and Wanda is practically doubled over laughing so hard that you can’t even hear it because she’s having trouble breathing.

“Get out of my kitchen. Come back when you have proof y’all graduated elementary school.” Sam kicks you out of the kitchen, Pietro grabbing some cookies before being shooed away. You head outside and decide to play some basketball. Cooper and Lila come and join you and a few minutes later so does Wanda.

You pause, holding the ball in your hands as Wanda walks up to you.

“What? Did you finish your two pages of reading for the day that quickly or did you just miss me?” you tease her. She gives you a sarcastic smile before snatching the ball away. “Two chapters actually.” She then goes to line up her shot. She shoots and scores, turning back to you with a smug smile at which you shake your head.

“Hey, you can’t walk with the ball. That doesn’t count!” Pietro whines. You fight for her point, telling him to just let her have it, which he does not let go without pointing out, “Oh, so when I do it, it’s not a point, but when Lila and Wanda do it, it counts? How is that fair?”

“Because she’s six and she’s cute, Pietro. That’s why it counts,” you reply.

“Okay, but what about my sister?”

“I just explained. Lila is six and Wanda is cute. Come on, man. Keep up.” Wanda overhears and blushes hard. Pietro laughs at his sister, embarrassing her further. You take the ball away from his hands while he is distracted and then pass it to Lila.

You do way better this game than the last time you played. You still lost but progress.

The next morning feels like a rinse and repeat. Nat wakes you up, you go for the morning hike, you complain the whole time. Breakfast is a different story. Laura’s lower back has been aching and she’s been having contractions, one of which comes while you’re eating, scaring most of you. You get straight to your feet asking where the baby bag is and Pietro rushes to find the keys saying, “I’ll start the car!”

Peter pipes, “I think someone else should drive.”

“Everyone calm down. I don’t need to go anywhere. The baby’s not coming yet,” your cousin reassures everyone, specifically her husband and Nat who are at her side. Everyone lets out a breath of relief. You ask where the baby bag is anyway to know when the time does come. She says there isn’t one and then Nat is on Clint and your heads about not being prepared.

“I got here after you did,” you defend yourself. She then looks over to Clint who says, “I’ve been saving the world.”

“Always an excuse with you two,” Nat chides.

And so the afternoon finds Clint, Sam, and Nat going to buy the essentials, while the rest of you help clean up around the house. Wanda is left to supervise Lila and Cooper clean their rooms, Peter is in charge of vacuuming upstairs, Pietro is given dish washing duty, and you are given the broom and mop.

Your cousin relaxes on the couch in the meantime. You yell up the stairs that you will be mopping now, warning everyone to watch their step. You repeat the same to your cousin who sarcastically says, “I think the whole town heard you, Y/N.”

“Well, excuse me for caring for everyone’s well being,” you retort, continuing your chores. You’re nearly finished. You just need Pietro to be done in the kitchen so you can mop there. You sit and wait in Clint and Laura’s little home office.

You swivel around in the chair, looking around curiously until something calls your attention, that something being the laminator. You try to think of something fun to laminate but think of nothing interesting. Then you remember something and rush upstairs to get it.

You pass Peter who asks if he can go downstairs now having finished vacuuming. You say yes but tell him not to go into the kitchen yet. You grab what you are looking for in your bag and head back downstairs to laminate it. Before you do, you write a message on the back.

Dear Scarlet Wizard, please stop hurting the books. Thank you. Y/N :)

Then you laminate the strip. You look over your finished product proudly before tucking it into your back pocket. You’re about to head out of the office when Pietro’s voice crescendos, heeding you of his presence before he appears. “Just ask her, Wanda. She’s seen you in them. I don’t know why you are embarrassed.”

That piques your interest. Pietro finally appears, with Wanda lingering behind him, looking like she’d much rather be anywhere else. “Hey, what’s going on?”

Pietro looks back at Wanda expectantly, but when she doesn’t say anything, he explains for her. “She needs help washing her underpants.”

“Pietro!” Wanda shouts, her face giving a new meaning to her superhero name with how red it turns. She moves forward, spluttering, “I asked Laura if I could wash some of my clothes. She said yes, but I don’t know how to work this machine and I didn’t want to make her get up to show me, and Pietro told me to ask you, so…”

She trails off shyly, wanting to bury herself in the nearest ditch right after she murders her brother for putting her in this position. Wanda hadn’t prepared to stay so long and hadn’t brought extra clothes. Now she regrets not being like Peter who overprepares. She wonders how her brother hasn’t run out of clean underwear but she thinks it’s better not to ask, predicting she won’t like whatever the answer is; Pietro is not someone who is over prepared either.

“That’s it?” you ask, not seeing what the big deal was, but you can see that Wanda is still looking rather awkward about it, so you don’t question it too much. Rather you comment, “I was actually wondering if you all just overpack for breaks. I mean I know Nat has extra clothes here in the house but I was wondering about the rest of you.”

“Peter is the only one who does the most,” Pietro says.

“Hey, I heard that!” Peter yells coming in to join the three of you. You turn to Pietro and ask, “Then what do you do?”

“He used the same underwear after he showered,” Peter explains. You and Wanda make a face of disgust and Pietro makes one of irritation. Peter runs off upstairs when Pietro starts chasing him, “Don’t tell her that!”

“I shouldn’t have asked,” you tell Wanda, who agrees with you. Then you motion for her to follow you into the little laundry room. You show her how to work the machine. She throws her clothes in and follows your instructions. Once the machine gets going, you decide to tease her now that you are alone. “It’s just underwear, Wanda. Pietro was right. No need to be shy about it when I’ve seen it both on and off you.”

She starts blushing again. She hides behind her hands and groans, “Ugh, I should have asked Laura.”

You continue on anyway, “In fact, I remember one instance where you were enjoying when I tugged them o-” You were cut off short by Wanda’s hands covering your mouth. “Stop talking.”

Your laughter is muffled but it’s there nonetheless, finding Wanda’s coyness endearing. She defends herself, recalling a story about you, “You are one to talk, Miss Purple Boxer-Briefs.”

You grab hold of her wrists, removing her hands from your mouth in order to speak. “Hey, that’s different.” You walk forwards, making Wanda take steps back until her back is against the wall. “I was not planning for anyone to see me in those. I was just taking one for the team, thinking the house was getting robbed.”

“Mhmm, sure.” Wanda giggles.This time it’s you saying, “Oh, be quiet, Maximoff.”

“Make me, L/N.”

You sputter in surprise, eyes widening at her words. Hers stare right into yours, challenging you to make a move. And she has the audacity to have a smirk on her face as if she wasn’t madly blushing about dirty underwear a few minutes ago. Where the hell did that girl go?

“Are you just going to stand there and look at me a-”

You surge forward and kiss her hard. Wanda can’t help but smile at getting her way, making it a little hard to kiss her. So you take the moment to break it and ask, “Hey, who told you my last name?”

“The same asshole that gave you this.” One of her hands between you moves up to caress your bruised cheek. “Does it still hurt?”

She prods at it, making you flinch back. “Ow, only when you poke at it.”

“Sorry,” she apologizes, pulling her hand away from your cheek. Her bashful face makes you chuckle. You pull yourself together to ask her a question. “Okay, serious question,” you start, and it’s too cute how Wanda pays close attention to what you say next. You’d think she’d know better by now. “Does it make me look badass?”

“Y/N,” she more or less groans your name in annoyance as she gently shoves you. You’re a little off balance but you quickly grasp her elbows to pull back into her space. “I’m serious. ‘Cause if I look stupid, I’m pretty sure I could will my cells to work overtime to heal it faster or something.”

She laughs at you, muttering, “You are an idiot,” and pecking your lips between each word. You hear giggling, only this laughter isn’t coming from the beautiful woman in front of you. No, this giggling you know too well comes from a certain little critter who you now see has potential to go into her father’s line of work with how quiet she can creep up on someone.

Wanda actually shoves you off this time, going to stand behind you to put a physical barrier between her and the intruding child. You clear your throat, smiling at Lila. “Hey, Lila. Did you need something?”

“Why were you kissing Wanda? Is she your girlfriend? Are you going to have a baby now?” She shoots one question after question rapidly as if she didn’t ask them all at once she would forget them. The first two are valid questions but the last throws you off so far you don’t know where you are. It throws Wanda too, so much so she’s basically choking behind you.

“Woah, okay. Umm, I was kissing Wanda because I think she is very pretty and nice and that’s just a way you can show someone that you think that about them, with their permission of course,” you rush in to add about consent. Your niece and nephews will grow up learning to be a decent human being. You continue on to her other questions. “But no, Wanda is not my girlfriend and we are not having a baby?”

Your last answer comes out more as a question, mostly due to your confusion as to where she got that idea. Wanda comes out from her hiding space to stand by you. From your peripheral vision, she looks amused at seeing you struggle to answer the six year old’s questions. Looking at your niece, she seems to be as confused as you, but you learn it’s due to something else. “Why isn’t she your girlfriend? Did you ask her?”

You hesitate to answer, really not knowing where to start. Wanda is less amused and more interested now, crossing her arms over her chest, creating a barrier between her heart and your next words that she thinks will inevitably hurt to hear. Lila doesn’t give you the chance, however, continuing to her next question that makes you scoff. “Does she think you’re ugly?”

“I’d hope not.” You turn to look at Wanda, who holds a hand over her mouth trying to cover her giggles.

“Oh, maybe she doesn’t think you’re funny, like Aunt Nat says. Maybe she doesn’t get your jokes.” Lila tries to help, but little to her knowledge, it just makes you want to dig your own grave, especially when you can see Wanda is nearly losing it trying to hold in her laughter.

“Yep, you know you might be right. That must be it,” you agree to appease her. She grins at you, proud of herself for finding an answer to her question, which reminds you, “Why did you think we were having a baby?”

“Because that’s how babies are made,” she says, without a doubt in her mind, which reasonably has you questioning, “Who told you that, critter? Because they definitely lied.”

“Mommy said so,” she says almost defiantly as if what her mom says must be the truth and who were you to make her start questioning her mother now at six years old. You are also not ready to have that conversation, the conversation between you and your cousin where she yells at you for taking over the birds and bees speech that she probably had meticulously planned for a specific time in her children’s lives.

“Aaaand, your mom’s right. Yep. Wanda is basically pregnant now,” you say without thinking. Lila’s eyes go full moon round in excitement as squeals in glee. She practically runs out of the laundry room probably to tell god knows who about the news. Wanda gasps in disbelief beside you, smacking your arm. “Why did you say that?”

“Well, what did you want me to do? Be honest with the child?” you say as if honesty would be the worst thing to bring into that conversation.

“Yes, exactly that,” Wanda says plainly.

“Okay, well unless you want to deal with Nat on your ass about us unnecessarily stressing my pregnant cousin out with talks about baby making with her six year old, for the next however long Lila remembers, you are pregnant with my child.”

Wanda hangs her head in defeat after you put that image of an angry Nat in her head. There are worse things than being fake pregnant with your crush’s baby. She sighs, “You’re paying child support for this kid.”

You smile at her quip, retaliating with, “Not without a paternity test!” She shoves you as you both exit the laundry room and you chant, “Maury! Maury!”

“We are not naming the baby Maury,” she says and runs into you when you stop abruptly to turn around and question her, “Wanda, do you not know who Maury is?”

When she shakes her head no in confusion, you grab her hand in excitement, “Oh, my god, let me teach you a little bit about American culture,” and drag her with you to watch some episodes of the show.

You only get to watch one with her, leaving her with your cousin to watch more as you go back into the kitchen to finish moping as your cousin so kindly (not so kindly) reminded you to do. Those baby hormones really were kicking in.

You return to see Pietro and Wanda eating up the show. “I knew it! I knew he would be the father,” Pietro yells excitedly from where he is on the floor looking back at his sister. “Did I not guess right?” She nods and he turns back to the television to watch the guy run off the stage as the cameraman chases after him.

Laura can’t stop yawning so you suggest she go take a nap. You help her up to her room and tell her to rest up, that you had everything under control. She teases as you shut the door, “Just don’t go around impregnating more women while I’m asleep.”

When you go back downstairs, Sam, Nat, and Clint are making their way through the front door with everything they bought. Sam and Clint set the box with the crib assembly in the middle of the living room. Nat carries some bags and says there are more bags in the car. You head outside throwing an “amateur” towards Nat who rolls her eyes knowing you are referring to your silly one trip from the car to the house rule.

The rest of the evening goes to arranging the hospital bag and getting all the baby things in order. Nat and Wanda assemble the crib, Nat insisting she do it after Pietro rushes to assemble it with a “tada!” only for it to fall apart when Nat throws a pillow onto it. Wanda is just excited to do it and Nat trusts her to follow instructions unlike her brother.

Everyone just watches, but Lila who tries to help handing the women whatever they need. As most excited six year olds do, she talks everyone’s ears off about the things she is going to do when her baby brother comes. “Oh! And he can have playdates with Y/N and Wanda’s baby. We can have tea parties every summer. Maybe not tea, cause tea isn’t very tasty and it’s too hot for that. Maybe we can have ice tea instead. What do you think, Wanda?”

Everyone in the room looks confused; most of the confused gazes are looking to you for an explanation and before anyone could say anything, you mouth “Don’t ask” while shaking your head. Wanda indulges Lila, though she blushes through it trying to look unfazed, “Yes, ice tea is nice. Or maybe lemonade. Can you pass me that small piece over there?”

It comes out perfectly, much to Pietro’s chagrin. Now the problem no one thought about- how to get it upstairs into the room. Sam and Clint carry it up the stairs trying to follow Nat’s instructions, attempting to turn it at the right angle to get it up the second flight of stairs. They clearly do not understand what Nat’s aim is here, Nat’s frustration growing by the second. Wanda gets a sense of deja vu but she can’t recall where she has seen this, until you laugh and as if reading her mind fill in the blank yelling, “Pivot!”

Satisfied with figuring out where the scene is from and not wanting to see Nat explode, Wanda uses her magic to take hold of the crib and brings Nat’s vision to life as she rotates the crib at the correct angle. The red mist lifts it the rest of the way upstairs.

“Thank you, Wanda. It seems you’re the only competent person here,” Nat huffs. She turns to the two men on the stairs, “Well, don’t just stand there, expecting Maximoff to do everything. The crib goes in the room with Laura.”

She storms up the steps shepherding Clint and Sam the rest of the way. You hear the laundry machine beeping, so you go give that your attention with Wanda on your tail. After her clothes begin to spin in the dryer, you stop her from getting any further than the kitchen remembering to give her your beautiful creation.

“Wait, Wanda, before I forget. I have something for you.” You pull the photo strip turned bookmark out of your pocket and hand it to her. She takes her time looking over the pictures on the strip from the time at the arcade, especially the third in which you are kissing her cheek. You gesture for her to look at the back and she rolls her eyes upon reading your message. Wanda appreciates the gesture anyways.

“You made me this?” Wanda asks, surprised.

You nod, “Made or more so laminated it for you. Or rather for future me who will be happy to know she saved another book from you dog earring the ends of its pages.”

You chuckle when she pushes you in jest. “Hey! That is a lot of judgement coming from someone who does not read.”

“I don’t have to be an avid book reader to know book etiquette,” you declared.

“Book etiquette?” She raises an eyebrow up in question.

“Yes, there are rules to how you treat books, same as there are rules to everything,” you answered. “Like returning a borrowed book in the same condition.”

“And one of the rules happens to be not to bend the corner of the pages?” she asks, disbelieving.

“Hey, I’m just trying to do you a favor here. Wouldn’t want you to get bullied in book club or whatever. But if you are just going to disregard the rule and not use the bookmark,” you reply, reaching for the bookmark, “I can just take it back.”

“No,” she objects immediately, pressing the photostrip against her chest. She pouts, “You already gave it to me. You can’t take it back.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you assured her, laughing at her childish antics. Wanda looks at it once more, smiling, and then gives you a kiss on the cheek. With rosy cheeks adorning her face, she thanks you. “I love it, really.”

Red really is the color for her, you think. That is until you find green giving red a run for its money the next evening.

Sam drove you, Wanda, and Pietro to one of the two bars in town in Nat’s car. It took about half an hour of begging from Sam’s part for Nat to give up her keys, but not without threatening his life if he were to even scratch her car. You couldn’t blame her, it’s a pretty nice car.

You and the three Avengers walk into the bar. It sounds like the start to a joke and it almost feels like it could be with the way the night starts. It’s a Friday night so there is a crowd but it’s not too bad. You’re still standing around the front entrance and you wonder why no one has made the move to go further into the establishment. Turning to the other three, you notice their eyes sweeping the place. You quickly realize what they are doing.

“Would you all relax? We are here to have fun. No need to act like you’re on a mission,” you remind them. Sam scoffs, “Uh, speak for yourself. This man is on the hunt for some sugar.” The rest of you three roll your eyes at him as he keeps scouting the area. His eyes befall on the pretty bartender. “And spotted. First round is on me.”

Sam walks up to the bar with swagger to his step. The three of you look for a place to sit. Pietro notices a booth open up and using a little enhanced speed, swoops into the booth, calling you and Wanda over. You talk amongst yourselves while Sam chats up the bartender. He comes over with the drinks smiling to himself. Wanda teases him, “Look at you all smiley. Did you get her phone number?”

“I’m still working on it, but I know it’s working,” he says confidently. “So hurry up and finish your drinks so I can go up and talk some more.”

He rushes you and chugs his drink in one go. You hate to be his buzzkill but someone has to remind him, “I hope you enjoyed that drink, Sam ‘cause that was your one and only for tonight. Or did you forget you drove us here?”

His face scrunches up and groans, “Noooo. Can’t Pietro drive? His metabolism works fast. It’s nearly impossible to get him drunk.”

“Did you forget what car we brought? The moves Nat pulled on me hurt like a bitch, and that was just her teaching me self defense. I can’t imagine what she would do if she finds out we let Speed Racer drive back.” You quickly turn to said twin, “No offense, Pietro.”

“You are all just a bunch of babies,” he responds, sipping from his drink.

“Ugh, fine,” Sam concedes. “Maybe, I can work with this. I’ll be back. Same thing for everyone?”

After getting an affirmative, Sam is back at it. The three of you watch him flirt with the woman behind the bar. Sam points your group out to her and she smiles at you three while your group acknowledges her with awkward waves.

A car alarm pulls everyone’s attention away; it’s Nat’s car. The three of you see Sam make a show of looking for the keys in his pockets when it’s clear to the group that he’s been holding them the entire time. That smooth bastard. The woman looks impressed.

Soon she serves up your drinks, Sam bringing them to the table, with a cocky smirk on his face. You, Pietro, and Wanda shake your heads at him his whole way back. “We see what you did there,” Wanda says. “That was very sneaky.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Sam denies. He takes a sip of his water as the rest of you grab your second drink. Pietro asks, “Very sad, using someone else’s things to boast. Tsk tsk tsk.”

“Keep it down. She doesn’t have to know that. Anyway, that car is a guarantee she’ll be looking this way,” Sam assures and he isn’t wrong. Wanda finds the bartender looking back at your group but much to her discontentment, she is zeroing in not on Sam but you. You don’t notice this happening.

You are too focused telling some funny story Wanda isn’t really listening to, as she finishes her drink in one go. Pietro catches this from the corner of his eye, frowning at what has his sister looking upset. Ever so observant, he watches Wanda look at the bartender who seems to be staring at you and then shuffle closer to your side.

His frown disappears, no longer worried but more so amused. He has always found it funny when his sister gets jealous. He’s seen it several times to know the signs- the furrow of her brow, the biting of her lip, and had it been a few years ago, there would be a dramatic exit. A dramatic exit would be overkill here so he guesses she’s substituted it for possessiveness.

You welcome Wanda’s warmth as she sits closer to you. Sam and Pietro make their comments and jokes about the story you just finished telling. You sip on your drink, nearly choking when Wanda’s hand makes a surprise appearance on your thigh a little too high to be innocent. You try to ignore it and listen to Sam as he starts a story, but it gets a little difficult when she begins to move it.

Sam asks you a question and as focused as you are when trying to answer, Wanda’s wandering hand makes you stutter a few times in your response. You chug the rest of your drink and Wanda takes that as a sign to get the next round of drinks.

“I’ve got the drinks this time,” she declares, pressing a kiss on your cheek before getting up and heading over to the bar. The little break you have away from her feels a bit of a relief. You were getting worked up under her touch and in public no less. You don’t know what’s got Wanda in this kind of mood suddenly, not that you would usually mind it unless it’s the alcohol.

That’s the only real outlier here. If it is the alcohol, you’ll have to slow her roll down if only two drinks have her so handsy. You have to come up with a plan soon if that’s the case, because Wanda comes back, bartender behind her carrying a tray with shots.

Wanda takes her seat next to you as Sam’s point of interest for the night sets the shots in the middle of the table. Your eyes widen, counting the number of shots that end up on the table.

“Damn, how much do they pay you?” you ask incredulously, knowing how pricey a single shot can be.

“And are they hiring?” the bartender jokes. Everyone but Wanda laughs. “Are we celebrating something tonight or just having a night out?” She asks the table but ends the question looking at you for the answer.

“A little bit of both. They’re going home soon, so,” you explain. You have all her attention now, her body turning to face you. “Oh, so you’re from here. I haven’t seen you around?”

Wanda slowly grows irritated, feeling the woman talking is overstaying her welcome at your table. She reaches for a shot, throwing it back, trying not to make a face as the liquid burns her throat.

You frown at Wanda’s actions. Pietro snorts and Wanda throws him a glare. The bartender is still waiting for your response so you answer, “I don’t actually live here. I stay with my cousin during my breaks from school.”

“What school do you go to?”

Wanda clears her throat, annoyed, “Don’t you have to go back to the bar? We wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.”

Sam speaks up, “There are two other people back there. I’m sure they’ve got Bethany covered.” So that’s the name of the woman unknowingly grinding Wanda’s gears. Wanda is disappointed to see Sam is correct.

She drinks another shot and the moment Pietro has been waiting for arrives when she gets up suddenly claiming she has to go to the restroom. Bethany tries to help and point them out to her, but Wanda quickly cuts in with, “Thank you, Bethany, but I think I can find my way to the restroom just fine.” And then she stomps off.

Finding her behavior odd, you decide it best to go follow her and make sure she’s okay. After answering Bethany’s last question, you excuse yourself from the table and head in the direction Wanda left. The restrooms are easy to find, a glaringly obvious sign pointing to them.

Wanda splashes water on her face at the sink, trying to cool herself down. She can’t help the thoughts running through her head, thinking that Bethany was probably sitting in Wanda’s place by your side, grabbing your arm as she laughs at something you say. She knows these thoughts stem from jealousy and there is no need to tell her that she doesn’t have the right to be jealous when you agreed to be friends.

If Wanda wasn’t irked enough, there are no paper towels to dry her face with. Now she’ll return to the table with a wet shirt. “Stupid bar can’t refill the dispenser,” she mutters, pushing the door open with the side of her body, her hands preoccupied lifting the bottom of her shirt enough to pat her face dry with it.

She bumps into somebody outside the restroom doors. She lifts her face from her hands to apologize only to be met by the person who has got her acting this moody and you aren’t looking at her face. Your eyes are busy appreciating Wanda’s exposed tummy. Wanda flushes as she drops her shirt, making you redirect your eyes. Embarrassed at being caught, you clear your throat. “Sorry,” you apologize. “I actually came to check on you.”

“Why? I was only gone for 2 minutes,” she asked, though she was happy to note that you were here waiting for her outside the restroom instead of entertaining the bartender sitting at your group’s table.

“You left kind of abruptly. I just wanted to make sure you were okay and not like throwing up,” you reason. You pull Wanda away from standing in front of the door to the restroom when someone tries to get through.

Wanda chuckles, continuing on with your conversation. “Do you think I am a lightweight or what?”

“Well I hope not. You did just buy a bunch of shots and it would be a damn shame to let them go to waste,” you remind her. She smirks at you. “You have some catching up to do.”

“Lead the way.” You step aside motioning for her to do just so. Wanda shakes her head, but smiles nevertheless, taking your hand and tugging you behind her. Wanda is happy not to see Bethany at your table but back behind the bar when you both take your previous seats.

“There they are!” Pietro shouts excitedly, waving his hand in the air before smacking it back down on the table rather clumsily with an “Ah”. Tipsy Pietro was rather adorable. How did he get like this anyway? Looking back at the table, you find your answer.

“Holy shit, dude! Did you drink all of these yourself?” You’re worried he’d have to get his stomach pumped. He reads the expression on your face and reassures you. “It’s the only way I can get, umm, Wanda?” He turns to ask his sister something you don’t understand, asking in Sokovian. She answers, “Tipsy.”

“Yes! Tipsy. But I left you uh,” he counts the remaining shot cups that still have liquor in them, “four. Perfect. Two for each of you. Now hurry, I want to play billbards, bill-billboards. Pool,” he finally decides. He pushes two shots towards you and the other two towards Wanda.

“Oh, no. Y/N has to catch up.” Wanda pushes one of her drinks to yours, lining them all up neatly. You shake your head at a smirking Wanda. You sigh, “You’re really going to do this to me, huh?”

“Yup,” she affirmed. Then Sam got the three of them to chant your name, making others in the bar look your group’s way. Not wanting people staring, you hush them, “Okay, okay. Geez. I can see why Clint hates that.” Then you drink all three, one right after another. You do make a face. “Oof.”

Wanda drinks hers and then the four of you wait by the pool tables for one to open up. You spend the next hour laughing with Sam and Wanda at a clumsy Pietro. You are just as bad as a tipsy Pietro when playing pool but tipsy Wanda doesn’t care, insisting you teach her how to properly line up her shot. Tipsy you isn’t remotely embarrassed when Wanda completely misses hitting the ball with your guidance because your body is busy feeling something other than shame having Wanda pressed against you as she is.

Sober Sam is getting bored. Bethany is busy behind the bar doing her job, more patrons filling up the joint. A few minutes later, Pietro is practically sober; his coordination comes back and he doesn’t find playing pool as fun anymore. Also, he’s growing tired of watching his sister basically grind her ass on you every time it’s her turn.

Pietro ends the game five minutes later. “I’m tired. Let’s let some other people play.” He doesn’t give you a chance to reject the idea, handing his pool stick over to someone else saying his group can have the table. He and Sam head to the restroom but not before telling you two to be ready to go.

There is a pout on Wanda’s face that you find just too cute and you let her know so. “You are so adorable,” you tease, pinching her cheeks. Wanda sends you a glare that looks in no way threatening with her cheeks aflame, making you laugh. “I’ll get us some water. Wait here for Pietro and Sam.”

You head over to the bar counter. You grab Bethany’s attention and ask for some water. “So why was your girlfriend upset earlier?” She asks as she goes to fill up two cups for you.

“Huh?” you ask confused. She repeats herself leaning over the bar in order for you to hear her more clearly. “Your girlfriend,” she nods in Wanda’s direction. You turn to see Wanda watching you two closely. “She looked pissed off earlier.”

Bethany hands over the two cups of water. You didn’t need to but you clarify anyway, albeit a little awkwardly. “Oh, um, she’s not my girlfriend.”

“Does she know that?” The bartender smirks at you. You’re confused and tell her so. She rolls her eyes at you. There is no way you could be so oblivious. She does find it cute that you were so focused on your “not girlfriend” that you didn’t see the way she was interested in you. She takes pity on you and clarifies, “She was totally acting like a jealous girlfriend earlier.”

“No, she wasn’t,” you deny, the idea sounding totally absurd to you. But with the way Bethany sounded so sure, you can’t help but begin to question the possibility. “How do you know?”

“I see these things all the time. Reading body language becomes a skill when you work at a bar. Trust me.”

Bethany sees you still doubting her so she proposes something. “Here. I’ll prove it. Do you mind if I touch you?”

You look at her confused but give her permission anyway. She reaches over and runs her finger up and down your forearm. You watch her move and feel more so lost when she throws her head back in laughter. “Okay, what are you doing?”

“If she is jealous, like I say she is, she will do one of two things. She will either come up here and act all possessive or she’ll storm off like she did earlier to the restroom.”

“I don’t know,” you say, unsurely, already pulling your arm away. You are not one to want to play emotional games. Before you have a chance to tell Bethany that, she says, “I should have put some money on it.”

You feel an arm slide around your waist. Wanda comes up beside you and pulls you into her. You are a little startled to be honest, especially when she kisses your underjaw making sure to give Bethany a good view. Wanda catches Bethany giving you a cocky smirk and it irks her.

“Piet and Sam are waiting for us,” she reminds you. You don’t say anything, your mind still trying to process that Bethany is right and Wanda might just be jealous. Bethany sees the realization glaze over your eyes and rolls with it, pushing Wanda’s buttons. “Oh, you’re leaving already? Well if you ever want more conversations like these,” she writes on a piece of paper behind the bar and hands it over to you folded, “here.”

Wanda is nearly grinding her teeth at this point. The audacity of that woman to give you her number while Wanda is with you is amazing. Though Wanda knows she’s not with you- with you, clearly the woman would think Wanda was something to you given the way she is wrapped around you. And if that wasn’t enough to piss her off, the way you say “Um, okay?” before pocketing the piece of paper is.

“You know what, we’ll just wait for you in the car,” Wanda huffs, pulling away from you and storming off to Pietro and Sam. You watch her go, ready to follow but Bethany calls your attention once more. “And there is number two. What are you standing here for? Go. She’ll only be more upset the longer you take.”

“Thanks?” You leave it at that, not knowing what else to say and make your way to the exit. Bethany watches you leave with a shake of her head, mumbling to herself, “She’s gonna eat her alive.”

You reach in your pocket to read the note the bartender gave you, opening the door with your back. Wanda, who is leaning against the hood of the car, watches in jealousy as you laugh at the contents of the note.

Sam asks, “What are you smiling about?”

Wanda answers for you, tone dripping in discontent, “Getting the number you couldn’t get.”

“What?! Let me see!” Sam rips the paper from your hand. Wanda rolls her eyes in annoyance and gets in the backseat, slamming the door closed. Her brother shakes his head in amusement, but follows sitting in the passenger seat instead.

“Come on, let’s go,” you hurry Sam along. You go around the car to open the door opposite the one Wanda slammed and take a seat. Wanda is already not looking at you, instead looking out the window, which you find pointless because there is nothing to look at seeing as there is another car parked right next to her. She’s just getting the view of their window.

“Wanda,” you say, trying to get her to look at you. “Wanda.” She still ignores you, so you press, “Are you really not going to talk to me?”

“I’m not in the mood. Why don’t you talk to Bethany? Seemed like you liked talking to her. Now you can call her,” Wanda responds, voicing Bethany’s name in an obnoxious way. You try not to snicker but Pietro doesn’t. Wanda kicks the back of his seat, getting in trouble with Sam as he enters the car to see just that.

“Hey, knock it off! I don’t need Nat busting my ass for something I didn’t do,” he warns and points at Wanda, who huffs but leans back, crossing her arms in irritation. He continues, “Also, if you want me to laugh at your jokes, make them make sense.”

He throws the paper to your lap. You read it once more and laugh to yourself. Sam is about to start the car but you stop him. “Wait! Before we go, Sam, can you do me a favor real quick,” you say as you pull out a five dollar bill. “Can you go give this to Bethany?”

“So is this like an inside joke or something?” Sam takes the money anyway and heads back to the bar. Pietro asks, “Can I see the paper?”

“Why? You want to have a shot with her too? Clearly she was interested in Y/N, Pietro,” Wanda mumbles. You hand over the paper to her brother while rolling your eyes at her behavior, trying not to smile.

Pietro reads it and laughs louder than before. Wanda takes off her seatbelt and leans forward to snatch the paper from Pietro’s hands. “Okay, what is so funny? ‘Five bucks she says my name in a mean voice’.” Wanda’s voice trails off in the end out of embarrassment realizing that the note was about her.

“Hell yeah! I told you I would and I did. I still have the moves.” Sam barges into the car excitedly. “Look what I got!” He waves around a piece of paper in front of Pietro’s face.

“Her number? Nice,” Pietro says, pretty impressed.

“Yep. She said ‘Here, for if you’re ever back in town,’” Sam tries mimicking Bethany’s voice. Turning to you, he adds, “Oh and she also said to tell you she told you so, whatever that means.”

“Wanda knows what it means,” Pietro jokes, making you chuckle and Wanda punch him in the arm.

“Alright, alright. Chill out and put your seatbelt on,” Sam tells Wanda. He turns on the car and begins the drive home. “It’s a good thing we’re leaving when we are. Another drink in you and we’d have to pull you out of a bar fight.”

Wanda does as she’s told without another word. In fact she stays silent for the whole ride back, not because she was annoyed like earlier. To say she’s embarrassed is an understatement. It’s one thing for her brother to tease her, throwing remarks he finds oh so humorous her way. She’s used to that from her twin. It’s another thing for you to match his energy, laughing at his jokes and having the same knowing smirk on your face.

Of course Pietro would know when she’s jealous; they’re twins. Pietro acts the same exact way when he’s jealous. Wanda just wasn’t ready for someone else to pick up on it, especially not the person for why she felt the way she did.

It is humiliating and that’s why she vows to deny, deny, deny if anyone brings it up, which of course you do because life hates Wanda and won’t let her have this one thing.

You bring it up after you get home. Wanda tries to rush out the car but you hold her arm, signaling for her to stay in the car. You tell Sam and Pietro to go ahead inside without you, that you need to talk to Wanda in private.

Sam jokingly “oohs” and rolls down the windows a bit before turning off the car. “This seems like a long talk. I wouldn’t want you ladies to suffocate under all the tension,” he quips.

Wanda looks at her brother for help and he almost stays seeing the dread on her face, but then he thinks about how this could be new ammunition for teasing her later and makes his decision to go. “Sorry, Wands, but she said ‘in private’.”

“Since when do you respect privacy?” she challenged, ticked that her own blood would leave her to die of mortification for his own amusement.

“It’s never too late to try new things,” he reasons. He follows Sam to the house, laughing because Wanda shouts out of the car window, “Try not being a traitor next time!”

Wanda’s attention finally turns to you when she hears you giggling. Wanda sits as far away from you as she can, her back practically against the car door. Your laughter dies down, but you still sport a wide smile on your face, irritating her to no end. She crosses her arms and tries to keep her composure.

“What did you want to say?” She feigns innocence, hoping the conversation will take a different route than the one she feels it’s going. However, much like life you won’t let her have this.

“You know, I guessed you could be the jealous type given you telling your brother to stop flirting with me and the other way around, but damn, that was something else,” you tease, finding satisfaction when Wanda’s cheeks burn red.

You let her splutter for a minute, but then take pity on her when you see she can’t find the words to defend herself. You scoot close enough to her that your knees are pressing against hers. “It’s okay, really. Usually, I would find jealousy unattractive but there is something about green on you that I like. It really brings out your eyes.”

Your hands move forward to push some of her hair away from her face as if to see her eyes clearer. Wanda finally finds her voice, scoffing, “I was not jealous,” but she allows you to keep your hands on her face.

“No, of course not,” you reply sarcastically, smirk taking permanent residence on your face. You pinch her cheek to annoy her.

“Only insecure people get jealous,” Wanda huffs and pushes your hands away.

“Everyone has their insecurities, Maximoff.”

“What do you have to be insecure about?” she asks like you would be the last person to have any insecurities.

You lean your side onto the seat. “Plenty of things. Like, no one ever taking me seriously. I hide a lot behind jokes. Sometimes, I don’t even know if I’m being serious or not and that makes it really hard to communicate with people.”

You look away from Wanda who begins to uncross her arms, the earlier tension on her body from self preservation dissipating with your confession. Instead, you focus on your hands, fingers tracing the stitched lines on the leather seats.

You continue with a sigh, “Not to keep reliving the past, but it seems like it’s all I ever really do, I think maybe had I worked a little more on that, maybe Skye and I wouldn’t have ended like we did. Maybe had I shown I could be, I don’t know, more serious, someone you could not only have laugh with but someone you could confide in, have honest talks with, be a shoulder to cry on, then maybe she wouldn’t have seen me as a distraction and maybe we, I don’t know. I’m just rambling now.”

It gets quiet in the car. Wanda watches your hands continue to trace the lines on the seats. You look up at her when she clears her throat, ready to speak. “Vision broke up with me with the excuse that heroes are meant to be alone and I try but ever since he said that I can’t help but think he has a point.”

“Why do you think so?” you ask. Much like you finding something else to focus on, Wanda begins fidgeting with the rings on her fingers before replying, “It’s just that after we broke up, everyone left me alone. They were trying to give me my space, I guess but all it did was make me feel lonely.”

You reach out to stop her fidgeting with her rings which only half works. When you hold her hand, her other one comes to start playing with your fingers. “As embarrassing as it was to have you see me crying, I’m glad you stayed with me that first day,” Wanda whispers, almost like it’s a secret.

You smile and joke, “You were crying? I would have never known if you didn’t just tell me.” You succeed in making her laugh, as she tells you to shut up, but you continue teasing her. “Now the puffy eyes and runny nose make total sense.”

“Oh, god! Don’t remind me,” she pulls her hands away from yours to cover her face. She mumbles behind her palms, “I probably looked so gross.”

You chuckle at how wrong she is, remembering that day. You pull her hands away from her face and respond, “Quite the opposite. I was wondering how someone could look so pretty crying.”

Wanda narrows her eyes at you and accuses, “Liar.”

“Honest. Then I thought how inappor- inaporpiet,” you struggle to say inappropriate so you rephrase, “how it was wrong to think that while you were crying. Sorry, the alcohol is still in my system.”

You continue through Wanda’s giggling. “And it’s your fault I’m not more sober right now!”

“What? How is this my fault?” she questions, still smiling.

“We didn’t get to drink the waters Bethany so nicely served us because you got jealous and stormed out,” you recount, watching the smile drop from Wanda’s face and a frown replace it.

“I was not jealous!” Wanda still denies, much to your amusement. She tries to pull away her hands but you keep a heavy grip on them.

“Incredible. We just had a whole ass conversation about insecurities and you still can’t admit you were jealous,” you laugh when she denies it again with a pout on her face that you attempt to kiss away, pulling her into you.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” you mumble with a smile against her lips. She lets out an irritated sigh and leans back into you to finally do something about wiping that knowing smile off of your face.

Wanda’s lips on yours, you both forget what either of you were trying to prove as you lose yourself to the feeling of having her pressed against you. You are both a mess, still slightly inebriated, but not so much that you don’t know what you are doing. You are well aware that you are in Nat’s car and she would kill you if she were to find out what you were doing in the backseat.

You take the chance anyway thinking it would be worth it. Remnants of alcohol in your system and watching Wanda take her shirt off will do that. Hands are everywhere, stripping off clothes, so you don’t know who does it but the car horn sounds and makes you both stop in panic.

“Shit,” you both whisper, out of breath. You turn to look at what could have caused the noise and see your shoe on the driver seat. One of you had thrown the shoe at the wheel. You both look towards the house. The lights were still off. You don’t think you woke anyone. At least, you hope you didn’t.

“Maybe no one heard?” You tell Wanda who looks at you with a ‘you can’t be serious’ look. There are five members of the most renowned team of heroes on the planet in that house. One, if not all, heard the horn.

Your phone chimes. Wanda gives you an ‘I told you so’ look as she pulls out your phone from your pants that are halfway down your thighs. Her heart stops in her chest as she sees the text is from Natasha. She shows you and you cover your face, not wanting to read whatever death threat is on there.

“Read it for me. Maybe coming from you, I might not have a panic attack,” you beg. She opens the text and reads aloud, “ ‘I expect the car to smell of nothing but lemon scented disinfectant wipes tomorrow’ followed by two exclamation points and the red angry face emoji.”

You let out a sigh and remove your hands. “That doesn’t sound too bad. I don’t think she’s that mad.”

“Wait,” Wanda holds up a finger, reading off of your phone, “she’s typing.”

Your phone chimes incessantly. Wanda begins reading off, “Okay, girl with hand up emoji, ladder emoji, window emoji, person in bed emoji, oh, um.” Wanda’s eyes widen at what she now realizes is Nat threatening you through emoticons. “I am going to stop reading now so you can sleep tonight.”

You groan but take the phone to read through the little story Nat created. “Although I am fearing for my life, I have to give it to her. This is very creative and it sends shivers down my spine.”

You toss your phone onto the passenger seat. “If this is my last night, let’s end it right,” you say before dramatically sweeping Wanda in your arms and moving her to lie down as best as one can in the back seats of Nat’s car. She giggles as you nearly stumble to the floor due to your pants.

“Stupid jeans,” you mutter, swiftly taking them off and moving on top of Wanda who is still giggling. You quickly shut her up.

You wake up in the back seat of Nat’s car with Wanda in your arms. You feel three things at once: Wanda’s breath tickling your neck, the warmth of sunlight seeping through the car windows, and the beginnings of a headache. There is a loud screech that does nothing to help soothe the mild hangover. It wakes Wanda up as well. She voices her annoyance out loud, her morning voice husky.

“Ugh, what is that? Y/N, make it stop,” she demands, burrowing further into you as if that will somehow make it stop. Coincidentally enough it does stop, but before you can relax, you hear voices arise.

Wanda’s brows furrow and she tries to move away from you to see who could be coming to visit, but with the arm you have around her, you yank her back down into you.

“What are you doing?” you whisper yell.

She looks at you in confusion. “I’m seeing who it is.”

“Maybe that can wait once we’re fully clothed,” you suggest, pointing out the fact that all either of you have on are underwear and your shirts from last night.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, just stay still and hope they don’t peek in the car,” you command. The two of you stay quiet as the voices pass by. From the sounds of it, they come from two women.

“Oh, calm down! That landing was not that bad. It was way better than last time!” one of the women exclaims. Her voice sounds way too familiar, but you are too busy holding your breath in order to not get caught to actually try to place it.

“That doesn’t make me feel any better, Daisy. Wait, who let you fly it before?” the second woman asks, the end of her sentence sounding far away hinting at them approaching the front door away from the car you and Wanda currently hide in.

You hear knocking and then the front door opening. You think you hear Nat’s voice say something that sounds like “oh, fuck” but you aren’t too sure. You and Wanda only get up when you hear the front door close.

You both hastily redress into yesterday’s clothes. Peeking out the window, Wanda notices a jet outside that definitely was not there last night and seeing as there are no other cars around, she can only assume it belongs to the two women which makes sense after hearing that one of them flew it.

She sadly puts two and two together. These are the agents that would pick them up to take them back to the compound. You also pieced it together, “They’re here early.”

Wanda notices you sound a little peeved at that but you collect yourself. “Come on. Let’s go see what that’s about.” You give her a quick kiss before you exit the vehicle, holding the door open for her to step out.

Wanda has half a mind to pull you back into the car, wrap back up in you, and never let you go, although she knows in the end it’s not you that’s going but her that has to leave. She’s just sad that her ride is here so soon and that she had to wake up to it after a night like last night.

Last night was what felt like a wake up call for her. Lying in your arms, she began to wonder what she was even doing with you anymore. You make her feel like no one else has. She might have denied it all night, but she can be honest with herself. She knows she was jealous. She has never been jealous about anyone before and maybe because she knows she has no claim to you, in other words any reason to be jealous, she realized she wants to have a reason. She wants the right to be jealous.

You stand there patiently waiting for her to step out of the car. Once she’s out, you fix her hair for her. “There. Maybe not Sister Wanda but I didn’t leave any marks for you to be DJ Wanda either,” you joke, trying to pull a smile from Wanda.

You do, but you find it odd that she doesn’t whack you or anything for teasing. “Wow, no violence after making a joke like that. Are you feeling okay? Did the alcohol not hit you until right now? Are you somehow drunk?”

“No,” she rolls her eyes at you. “I thought we had a rule about not hitting you.”

“Oh, so now you remember the rules. It only took you til your last day here to remember them,” you chuckle, closing the door behind her. You begin walking toward the house but when you reach the porch you feel Wanda pull you back. You look at her with questioning eyes.

Wanda decides to finally voice all her thoughts and feelings that she has been keeping to herself once and for all. “About those rules-“

“Robin Hood?”

Wanda is cut off by that familiar voice you couldn’t place before but you couldn’t mistake it now especially given that nickname. There was only one person to ever call you that. You didn’t have to look to know who it was but you and Wanda both turn to see the last person you thought you would ever catch in Westview County standing on your cousin’s porch.

“Skye?”

______________________________________________________

Dun, dun, duUuUn

@madamevirgo @marvels-writings @gayarchnemissis @myperfectlovestory @purplemeetsblue @magicallymaximoff @b0mbdotc0m @helloalycia @ironscarletwidowsoilder @cantcontroltheirfear @trikruismybitch @your-my-mission @imagine-reblog @fayhar @idek-5 @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo @bemyvitamin @musicinourlips @paumxmff @wandamaximoffsrings @yeetus-thyself @lostandsearching @when-wolves-howl @euphoriaszn2 @gingerbreadcookieforlife @myfavoriteficss @cyberbonesworld

#wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you

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luxekook · 5 years ago

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ego | jjk | harry potter au

⇥ pairing: gryffindor jeongukk x hufflepuff reader

⇥ genre: harry potter AU, smut, fluff, angst

⇥ summary: in which jeongguk is a cocky lil shit and the reader has to take him down a few pegs

⇥ warnings: 18+, dirty talk, light smut, cursing

The wind whirled around me as I careened towards the glistening goal posts, imagining the opposing team’s Keeper darting back and forth in hopes of blocking the Quaffle that was currently tucked under my arm. I feigned left and the imaginary keeper followed suit. I threw right – Quaffle sailing through the rightmost gold hoop.

I smiled and dove down past the posts to catch up with my own throw. Even though it was still the first week of the new term, I was determined to prove my newly acquired captain-status. Hufflepuff hadn’t had a female captain in ages; and, paired with that, I was only a 6th year.

Luckily, I had a strong team behind me with mostly returning players who I knew would fiercely support me. Us Puffs stuck together. It was inherently in our blood to be loyal as hell to our own, and I thanked Merlin for that every day since receiving the captain’s badge.

As soon as I had hopped on the Hogwarts’ Express a few days prior, I had immediately been swept up in a giant bear hug by Jeong Yunho, one of the Hufflepuff beaters.

“Oh, captain! My captain!” he had dramatically cried, spinning me around. His Dead Poet’s Society reference was not lost on me since I had a muggle parent with excellent taste in movies. Similar reactions from the rest of the team followed suit over the course of the train ride and the Welcoming Feast.

Trials for our only open position of Seeker would take place this weekend with practices immediately starting Monday. We had high hopes for redemption this season after being crushed by Slytherin’s team of goons early on in the Cup tournament.

The Slytherin team’s head hooligan Kang Dokyun led his team with a nasty blend of intimidation and violent tactics. I was convinced that Slytherin didn’t even hold trials and that they just lined up the Slytherin boys, picking out the biggest of the lot. Basically, Slytherin was strong, but slow and slightly uncoordinated. We could beat them by exploiting their weaknesses – of that I was certain.

Ravenclaw would be a bit harder to conquer. Their team played with a level of elegance and intelligence that was so utterly Ravenclaw that even us Puffs got annoyed. Ravenclaw’s captain Yoon Jisoo constructed tactical plays so tricky that she was already recruited to play for Puddlemore next year. Their team was smart, but not completely unbeatable. The Ravenclaws sometimes got so ingrained in their methodical maneuvers that they failed to notice some of their opponents’ counterattacks. That was how they lost the Cup last term to Gryffindor.

Gryffindor was our toughest competition. Winning the Cup last term, the Gryffindor team was a nauseatingly perfect balance between brains and brawn. Their captain Jeon Jeongguk, now a 7th year, was renowned for his tyrannical practice regime that he put his team through. We’d only played Gryffindor once in the regular season last year, and we had held our own for a while until we started getting tired and they didn’t. Seems like Jeongguk knew his shit when it came to conditioning. Something that I was determined to emulate with my own team.

Jeongguk was also the best damn Keeper that Hogwarts had seen in a long time, a fact that didn’t go unnoticed by the looks of the professional Quidditch scouts that avidly attended his matches. He was way bigger than a typical Keeper – extremely tall with broad shoulders and giant paws for hands. However, the only thing bigger than his stature and talent was his fucking ego.

He carried himself like he was the king of the school, and, unfortunately, most people treated him like it. Girls especially flocked to him – mainly for two reasons: 1) Jeongguk was undoubtedly hot, and 2) he held the promise of a rich future. Personally, I cared for neither of those traits considering his appalling personality and pride.

That damned ego would be his downfall this season. I would make sure of it, I thought as I circled around the stadium and then landed to get a drink.

I was definitely above average on the Quidditch talent scale. Holding the current school record for most assists in a season, I considered myself the glue of the Hufflepuff team – a fact that our Head of House obviously agreed with. However, no one really talked about the glue of a team, they talked about the flashy glitter and the gold stars. I was fine with that. Being the underdog was nothing new to a Hufflepuff, and I planned on using that to our advantage this season. Who said Puffs couldn’t be a little devious?

I smirked to myself as I grabbed my broom, ready to get back to practicing. This would be our fucking year.

“Hey,” a deceptively sweet voice rang out from above me, “You mind sharing the pitch? I need to practice.”

My mood soured. I knew who that was. Kicking off the ground, I flew to face him, “Sure thing, Jeon, just stay out of my way.”

It was almost as if I’d slapped him across the face, “Excuse me?” he choked out, “Do I know you?”

Unbelievable. Jeongguk’s head was evidently so far up his own ass he couldn’t recognize opponents he’d been playing for years. “I guess not,” I countered. And with a flick of my ponytail, I took off towards the opposite end of the pitch.

Unfortunately, he followed, “Are you a Gryffindor? If so, you should come to tryouts tomorrow. You’re pretty fast and we need a new Chaser.”

“Not a Gryffindor,” I called out, dipping low to the ground to scoop up my old practice Quaffle, “But I am a Chaser.”

Jeongguk was still tailing me, and I pulled to a stop to face him, “I thought you had to practice?”

He mirrored my position and crossed his arms. I tried (and failed) to stop myself from noticing how his biceps flexed and how a hint of his famed phoenix tattoo curled up his neck. Merlin, even I couldn’t deny he was hot as fuck. The recent summer months seemed to have blessed his skin with a glowing tan that accentuated the warmth of his dark eyes. It also seemed like he forgot what a haircut was as I watched the wind tousle his slightly curling hair.

“I do,” his eyes were narrowed as he cleared his throat, “I just have to make sure you’re not spying for another team.”

All thoughts of him being fine flew out the Owlery as I scowled. I refused to be intimidated by some arrogant asshole, “Did you not hear me when I said to stay on the opposite end of the pitch, Jeon? What kind of self-respecting spy would ask that?”

“You’re a Slytherin,” Jeongguk declared, his tone too sure for my liking.

He was really aggravating me now, and it took a lot for a Puff to get pissed off, “So, just because I have a semblance of a backbone, I’m a Slytherin? You need to brush up on your House knowledge.”

He was quiet, his expression contemplative, his jaw clenched. His eyes were scanning me with an intensity I was not sure I liked. And then he did something I liked even less: “I propose a game,” his mouth twisted upwards in a smirk, “You say you’re a Chaser?”

I gave a slight tilt of my chin in affirmation. He resumed, “Well, then you must know I’m a Keeper.” He paused, grinning wickedly, waiting for me to react to the double entendre. Eyebrows raised at my pointed silence, he continued, “And we both need to practice… So how ‘bout you try to score on me and for every shot I block you have to answer one of my questions.”

This motherfucker right here. I summoned my inner Helga to give me the strength to deal with this Gryffindor prick, “Say I was to agree to this, what would I get if I score on you?”

The laugh I got in response made all thoughts of remaining a kind and patient Puff evaporate faster than a weak Patronus.

He was still laughing when he noticed I looked ready to Avada him wandless, “Okay, okay. What do you want if you score?” He barely got the words out in between chuckles.

“To come to a Gryffindor practice.”

That shut him up real fast, “No fucking way. I don’t need you distracting my players.”

My nose crinkled, “Distracting? I would just be sitting in the stands, you prick.”

His jaw ticked as he rolled his eyes, “You could be on the furthest corner of the pitch and you’d still distract them, jagi.”

“Don’t call me that. And, pray tell, why I would distract them?” Our brooms were now practically touching as we had instinctively moved closer to one another. I could see the sweat glistening on his brow and the shadow of stubble on his jaw. Merlin, he was potent.

“Because,” Jeongguk paused, acting like this was the most obvious answer in the world, “You’re hot.”

I blinked. And blinked again, “Are you serious?” He opened his mouth to respond. “Nope, don’t answer that, Jeon,” I brushed right over his attempt to answer my rhetorical question, “So, do we have a deal or not? If you’re the esteemed Keeper that you clearly think you are, it shouldn’t be a problem for you to block all my shots, should it?”

My words echoed around us. He looked conflicted, but I knew his ego would not let my challenge go, “Deal. Five shots from the penalty mark.”

He flew towards the goal posts, “Looking forward to getting my questions answered, love,” he bellowed back at me.

I mentally flipped him off as I took off after him, clutching my Quaffle.

Sending out a plea to Merlin, Helga and everyone in between, I pulled to a stop at the penalty mark and pondered how I wanted to play this. He obviously thought he would save all five attempts. I spared him a glance and glower as I notice he was slouching on his broom with a lazy smirk, clearly not taking me as a serious threat.

Fine, I would just have to hustle him. He was asking for it at this point.

I got into formation. As much as it would pain me to mess up this shot on purpose, I knew that I had to in order to make my plan work.

Taking off towards the posts, my movement caused Jeongguk to finally move into a somewhat defensive position. I feigned right, doing so in a way too obvious manner. Hurling the Quaffle towards the top hoop, I watched expectantly as he deflected it with just a slight flick of his hand.

“Come on,” Jeongguk laughed, “You can do better than that, jagi.” He flew over to me and when I stretched to take back the Quaffle he now held in his hand, he shifted it out of reach, “Uh-uh, nope. It’s question time. What’s your name?”

How predictable. “It’s (y/n). Now give me the Quaffle.”

“Last name?” Jeongguk kept the Quaffle out of my hands.

“That’s a separate question, Jeon. You never specified that I give you my full name.” It was my turn to smirk as he threw the Quaffle back at me and headed back to the posts mumbling about loopholes and how I must’ve been a Ravenclaw.

I lined back up for the second shot. I had to make this one a little bit better than the last to show that I was trying, but not too much better that he’d be prepared for my final shots.

I ducked down, twisting around to head towards the right post with my full focus on the hoop. I launched the Quaffle. Jeongguk swooped up to catch it in a way that was entirely too elaborate for such a lame throw. He was clearly showing off – an action that I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the meaning behind.

Jeongguk made his way over to me, grinning, “Second question, jagi. Full name, please.”

“(y/f/n) (y/l/n),” I muttered, eyes scanning his face for signs of recognition and hands grabbing the Quaffle away from him.

He looked puzzled, “(y/l/n)? Why does that sound so familiar?”

Before he could think on it further, I pushed his shoulder, “Back to the posts. You got your answer.”

Well, I had attempted to push his shoulder. He didn’t even flinch at my shove. His eyes darted to where my hand now laid on his chest. I removed it faster than a Wronski Feint, trying to ignore the tingles that shot up my arm.

Our eyes connected and his were blazing as his mouth crept into a slow smile, “Like your hands on me.” Before I could formulate a reply, he flew off and I resolved that I would make this next shot as if my life depended on it.

We faced each other. I shifted the Quaffle from hand to hand and took off towards him. I gave him no tells, no feints, nothing. This seemed to throw him off for a split second, but that second was all I needed to send the Quaffle sailing through the bottom hoop.

“What the fuck was that?” Jeongguk yelled as he got all up in my face.

I bit back a smile. “Beginner’s luck?” I quipped, loving how his face had darkened perceptibly, “Don’t worry. I’m sure I can pick up some more tips at your practice.”

Unable to keep my grin in check any longer, I smile widely as he lets out a stream of curses that would make even my old crotchety aunt blush.

We resumed our positions. This time he seemed more alert and watchful. He was getting wary of me, despite my claim that it was just luck. Maybe he knew better after all…

“That won’t happen again, (y/n). Don’t get used to it!” he shouted from the posts.

…Or not.

I took off. Luck be damned. I zigzagged back and forth towards him. Throwing the Quaffle up in the air, I quickly rolled off my broom, sharply grabbing its end and swinging it up to hit the Quaffle mid-air through the center goalpost. A perfectly executed Finbourgh Flick. Regaining my seat on my broom I sailed back to the penalty line and turned back to face Jeongguk.

He looked utterly gobsmacked, “Beginner’s luck? Beginner’s fucking luck? Who the fuck are you?”

I grinned victoriously at his wounded ego, “You know my name, Jeon. Now you can use it at two practices.”

“(y/f/n) (y/l/n), (y/f/n) (y/l/n)… fucking hell, you’re the new Hufflepuff captain,” he gawked at me.

“Bingo, Gryff,” I laughed, “Took you long enough.”

“Why did I think you were a bloke? I would have remembered such a—” he cut himself off, “You hustled me! There is no way I’m letting you into my practices now.”

We were nose to nose now as I responded, “A deal’s a deal. I thought you Gryffindors were all about honor.”

His face was thunderous, “And I thought you Hufflepuffs were all about fairness.”

“We are,” I said plainly, “We just don’t take lightly to intimidation. Now come on, we’ve got one round left.”

A range of emotions moved across his face to settle in a heated look that I couldn’t quite decipher, “Fine, jagi,” his molten gaze darted to my mouth, “Give it your best shot.”

Swallowing hard, I shook my head, trying to clear my brain of entirely too inappropriate thoughts of me and Jeongguk. As much as I attempted to refocus on making my final shot, my attention wasn’t fully there.

And I fucked it up. Jeongguk dove to catch my throw mid-air, and he sped towards me triumphantly, “Slipping already? What was that?”

I blushed. He noticed.

“Come on,” he said, “I need a drink and then you need to answer my last question.”

I followed him to the ground, cursing my treacherous body for reacting so obviously. My subconscious battled:

‘He’s a player!’ the imaginary Dumbledore on my right shoulder boomed.

‘Kiss him. Now!’ hissed the fictitious Voldemort from the other side.

However, all thoughts evacuated my brain at the sight of Jeongguk peeling off his shirt and taking a long sip from his water bottle. My traitorous eyes flew over his torso. I took in his defined abs, his chiseled arms and his fucking beautiful phoenix tattoo that spanned the entirety of his left shoulder, left upper back, and a portion of his neck.

Then I noticed his eyes were watching me right back. And they were all to amused to be innocent… “Are you seducing me?”

He spit out his mouthful of water, laughing, “Why? Is this working for you?”

My eyes now resembled slits as I glared at him, “Is that your last question?”

“No!” His response came so fast I jolted back on impulse, “No, it’s not…”

He trailed off as he prowled towards me. I stepped back. He kept coming. I stepped back further.

“Why are you running, jagi?” his words were too soft and too intense for my liking. I took another step back and bumped up against the stands. His grin in response was predatory as he caged me in between the stands and his body, his arms on either side of my head.

“Nowhere to run now, little Hufflepuff…” he dragged a finger along the hollows of my throat. He definitely felt the rapid pounding of my pulse, his eyes darkening to the point that they almost seemed black.

I glared defiantly at him, refusing to be daunted by his size or his words. He smirked, “Your last question: do you want to kiss me as much as I want to kiss you?”

I stopped breathing. He waited, a look of uncertainty flickered on his face so briefly I almost thought I’d imagined it.

That little flare of vulnerability – that should not have been as appealing to me as it was – helped me to regain some of my bearings, “And how much do you want to kiss me? I need a scale of reference.”

He smiled crookedly as he leaned in even further, lips brushing against me as he whispered into my neck, “So fucking bad.”

His tongue darted across my skin as he dragged it up towards my ear. Biting it softly, he murmured, “Well?”

Fuck it all.

My hands latched onto his shoulders and his head snapped up. Raising to my tiptoes, I kissed him. He let out a rough groan, sounding like I was killing him. His hands slid down my body to squeeze my ass before hoisting me up. My legs circled his lean hips as his teeth caught my bottom lip in a faint bite. My hands tangled in his hair, pulling slightly. His hips pressed into mine, drawing a moan from my lips. He smiled against my mouth.

I nipped his lip now in retribution, but it seemed to only urge him on. One hand came up to remove my hair-tie, flinging it over his shoulder. I made a noise of protest, but he just kissed me harder.

How the fuck was he holding me up with one hand?

I prided myself on being a pretty thick bitch, and he was over here acting like I weighed nothing. My fingernails slid down his back, raking over the hard muscles and feeling how they flexed and shifted under my touch.

I don’t know how long we spent making out against the stands, but soon enough we heard voices coming from around the corner. Ripping my mouth away from his, I jumped out of his embrace, landing on shaky legs.

His arm wrapped around my waist as he steadies me. He was breathing just as hard as me and I could feel his heartbeat racing. I tugged away from him to retrieve my hair-tie from the ground and put my now wild hair back into its ponytail.

I could feel Jeongguk’s eyes on me all the while. I looked at him. His lips were swollen, his hair was a disheveled mess, his neck was displaying a rather nice hickey that I was sure was mirrored several times over on my own neck. A rare feeling of pride shot through me, and as he opened his mouth to say something, I shook my head and placed a finger over his lips.

“I’ll see you at your practice, Jeon.” I placed a quick kiss on his cheek, grabbed my broom and walked off.

As I strode away, I heard him grumbling under his breath: “Everybody warns you about the Slytherins. Nobody fucking warns you about the Hufflepuffs. Fucking hell…”

I smiled all the way back to the Common Room.

#bts #bts smut #bts imagine #bts fic #jeongguk #jungkook #bangtan #jjk x reader #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #harry potter au #gryffindor jungkook #jungkook imagine

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rosethornewrites · 2 years ago

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Thursday-Sunday T & G reading

The usual

Finished

Teen:

paint the picture that you want, by PrismaticAvocado

Lan Wangji huffs in amusement on the other side of the bed, and Wei Wuxian peeks over A-Yu to smile at his husband. They certainly make quite the cute little family all cuddled up in bed like this—Wei Wuxian stroking their son’s hair that has mostly fallen from where Lan Wangji had put it up for sleeping earlier and legs intertwined with Lan Wangji who is straightening out A-Yu’s already straight sleeping robe. The only thing missing is their eldest, but Lan Sizhui is probably a little old to be cuddling his parents in bed.

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji accidentally acquire another son.

(Written for Wei Wuxian November Mayhem | Prompts used: parent!wwx, artist, painting)

General:

Thank you for another year, by Aki_no_hikari

It is Lan Wangji's birthday. He goes through his day feeling thankful for all he has.

Unfinished

Teen:

The Consequences of Accidental Time Travel, by BurningBlueDiamond (5th in a series)

Future Sizhui, Jingyi, Wei Ying and Lan Zhan went back to their time.

How will the Past and Future character react to the new information provided?

The aftermath of "A Room Full of Dead People".

Yeah, this really doesn't make any sense without reading "A Room Full of Dead People" first.

Lessons relearned, by Iamnotawriter

He thought of all the pain and death that was to come. There was so much that went wrong in the cultivation world in the next few years. The weight of responsibility felt insurmountable.

Lan Qiren had never wanted to be a politician or leader. That role was meant for his brother. He had done his best in the years he had led the sect but he was aware that he was not the best person for the job. His interests had always been the academic pursuits and teaching the next generation. How could he hope to make an impact on the mess of political manoeuvring and aggression that was imminent? He decided he could only focus on the events which impacted his family the most. He could save Cloud Recesses from being burned. He could protect both his nephews from there disastrous relationships. He could protect the books they lost in the war.

Lan Qiren travels back in time and tries to fix the future.

Alternate Headcanons, by nirejseki

Random assortment of MDZS ficlets in response to a request for prompts for alternate headcanons for characters

Shards of Hope, by Dreaming_Days

He had built his life with the coldest calculation. Clawed his way to power with unhesitating ruthlessness. Destroyed anyone who would impede him. Betrayed even the few who had truly cared for him. And, in the end, utterly forsaken, Jin Guangyao died.

Then, 25 years earlier, Meng Yao woke up.

Abyss, by WanderingMongoose

Lotus Pier was an explosion of color, the vendors’ bright banners contrasting with the soft pink and green of the lotus ponds. The purple standard of the Jiang Clan flew from the tops of pavilions, fluttering against the azure sky. Every part of the landscape was saturated with color. The white robes of the Lan Sect were the only negative space, their perfect jade white looking unnatural and leached of life in the midst of Lotus Pier’s bustling docks. Sounds and smells assaulted them from every side, as if the docks themselves were affronted by their colorless silence.

Worried about his little brother's solitary nature and lack of friends, Lan Xichen convinces his uncle to send fifteen year old Lan Wangji and a group of GusuLan disciples to study at Lotus Pier under the pretense of improving intersect relations.

You Double-faced Entendre, by pink-lotus-pods (Waterlogged_fireflies)

"Wei Wuxian! You will be charged-"

“First of all, my name is Yuandao, and second of all, you aren't a judge, but you’re the one who’s got me tied up like a chicken! Let me go, damn it, I need to get back to my chickens and my farm!” Yuandao struggled violently, but the thin, golden ropes were a lot stronger than they looked.

The man in gold on the frankly, tastelessly ostentatious throne spluttered, turning the same colour as the cauliflower that he liked to put in his stews.

“Wow. You were right, he really doesn’t remember.” A man built like a mountain whistled, his face twisted into something that looked like amusement. “Either that, or he’s a world class actor.”

“For the last time, I’m just a farmer!”

Or, an amnesiac Wei Wuxian wakes up, gets himself a new family and is immediately roped into a political schism, EXACTLY in that order. He is very unhappy about having his cottagecore life uprooted.

Updates will be once every two weeks. Some tags have been hidden until the chapter will be posted, but there will be additional warnings in the chapter notes should you want to skip a particular scene

General:

Disliking Seperation, by SallySPT

Nearly a year after the events at Guanyin Temple, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian return to the cultivation world to participate in the Cultivation Conference. Many things have changed in the year that they were gone.

Or Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian adopt a child while traveling and the cultivation world doesn’t know how to react.

#the untamed #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #cql #chen qing ling #untamed fanfiction

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kaminohana · 3 years ago

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the meme man full analysis

Yeehaw here we go. Analysis of Mikoto Kayano’s video and song, along with some theories about the many themes and symbols in the video. Note: If there’s any other supplemental material for him out there, I haven’t read it. This is just an analysis with the music video we were given. If I happen to miss stuff that was mentioned before, I may talk about it in another post lmao

I was SUPER invested in this video as I watched it and soon realized “Oh shit, I think Mikoto’s plural”. Cuz, you know, I’m plural too (not disclosing what kind) and it felt SO good to see some actual parallels to stuff I go through- though of course not to Mikoto’s degree.

That said, I feel I should make a disclaimer in passing: yes, portraying your only plural character as homicidal ain’t the best representation. But, you know, we’ve seen other cases like that in Milgram so I’m just gonna leave it at that. Personally, I’m not that offended because the execution is SO top-notch. Though, hey, I totally understand how this can be very frustrating to other systems to see plurality depicted in such an unhealthy light- if it’s not for you, it’s not for you.

Keep in mind the point of the Milgram series is to make you uncomfortable in so quickly incriminating someone; if you’re hesitating to determine someone as guilty, hey, that’s probably intended and good! It’s about personal decision, so I’m not going to judge you one way or the other in voting. I just find it fascinating how these videos can put us in such conflict. This is all just my own perspective, BTW, so if you disagree with some of these points, good! I’m just hoping to share my thoughts since I can make a lot of connections. I’m by no means an expert in plurality or tarot, I just have some background in both and decided to try my hand at this analysis, so I really don’t the final say on what’s going on in the video.

Now, onto the actual video analysis.

I’m sticking with the basic idea that Mikoto is split into two parts; his more loveable, gentler side, which I referred to in another post as Softboy Mikoto, and the more violent side which may be acting as a catharsis to his frustrations. I referred to this side previously as the Devil alter, as he is depicted with the Devil major arcana tarot card. I can see how this could be taken badly, so for now I’m just going to refer to him as the shadow alter. There are many themes of duality in the video, most commonly with the symbol of the half moon which appears so many times. Shadow of the moon etc etc. I’ll be bringing this up several times as I analyze the lyrics. I’ll be breaking down the lyrics as evidence to support the idea that Mikoto is plural, and to show how softboy Mikoto (and shadow alter Mikoto) view this particular relationship and how this culminates in murder. Sometimes I refer to Mikoto (as a whole), softboy Mikoto, or shadow alter Mikoto depending on what I’m trying to describe in the below.

First piece: the title. MeMe. Me x2. A dead giveaway, like Umbilical. Also, it can be a meme, which is interesting taking the definition of the word meme in this context: “an element of a culture or system of behavior passed from one individual to another by imitation or other nongenetic means” (Oxford Dictionaries). HMMMM. I know memes are generally within the context of a community, but I think it’s interesting to actually apply this to Mikoto. What exactly is being passed on? Could we argue that Mikoto’s frustrations from one of his parts is being passed on to the other? Interesting to think about, though it may not be relevant.

Going into the lyrics:

So from here I’m guessing there was a point in Mikoto’s life where his plurality was not an issue; or, potentially, there was a time before his split. These were the good times.

Playing dead vs. being alive – representing duality. May refer to how, when one side has their way, the other is locked away in the headspace with no control, thus feeling like being dead. In the context of “if only”, perhaps he’s wishing that he just didn’t do anything if only to prevent things from getting this far.

“If” I could end- I believe Mikoto (particularly softboy Mikoto) is saying “Hey, I have no control over my other side. If I did, would things still be the same? Would I still be ‘letting’ this happen?”

“Keep it” and “hide it away” I feel like are both representative of his shadow alter and of the desires that alter represents. Many words related to destruction are tied to this alter, so it could be seen as Mikoto trying to hide those urges as well.

“’I’ will save ‘me’”- this is a very interesting line that I think very well encapsulates the shadow alter’s initial motives; he’s saying “hey, I’m going to take care of us,” I believe to try and convince softboy Mikoto to let him out. As far as if softboy Mikoto can actually “let” him out is TOTALLY up for debate.

Part of the reason I refer to the other alter as softboy Mikoto is because there are softer words I notice used by him in the song; here’s I’m seeing “snuggle”, so I think this side of him is more vulnerable and soft.

SWITCH, shake up that brain- wow couldn’t be any more obvious here

This is where the chorus starts. This I think is from softboy Mikoto’s perspective, PARTICULARLY when he’s trapped in the headspace. There are many forms of plurality IRL in which alters cannot simultaneously front, so one or more are “pushed” back into the headspace. This very act occurs several times throughout the song in the weird minimalist vaporwave shadow realm room, where the tarot cards are. During this time, we can assume that is when the shadow alter is fronting. Softboy Mikoto slowly starts to become more helpless and fearful in this space as the song goes on, and this is where he makes his celtic cross tarot spread that quite frankly defines the whole song. I discussed that in my other post.

Another facet of plurality that is applied here is amnesia, which is common, especially when alters are pushed back to the headspace. Within the headspace, there may be a lack of awareness to the outside world, which Mikoto seems to express in his confused sentiments like the above (in the video, he is also scratching his head, which as a gesture can represent being confused). “Why am I here?” can act as a double entendre, both referring to “Why have I suddenly been pushed to this headspace?” as well as the whole point of Milgram- “Why am I in prison?”. He may not be aware of exactly what he did, hence why he feels it’s a mistake. He may be experiencing amnesia of what his shadow alter is doing, so he doesn’t even know what crime he committed. However, he at least has enough awareness to tell someone else is present in his body doing things, so he begs the viewer “Hey, just watch whatever my body is doing and it’ll all eventually make sense. I don’t have access to this information, but you do.” I thought this was an interesting fourth wall break.

The truth revealing itself could also be the truth coming to light from the particular tarot reading he does in the headspace; note that the cards only seem to be appear in this place and not in the outside world. So softboy Mikoto is trying to figure out what’s going on this way. If he can’t figure it out himself, maybe the cards can give him some direction.

Another duality- “I won’t forgive you if you reveal the truth” vs. “However I know I’m right when I say I’m innocent”. Or he could be right about something else.

I’m wondering if the breaking here is just reflecting the shadow alter or is softboy Mikoto actually wishing he could end the shadow alter. He at least wants things to change; the way things are right now is not something he’s okay with. Though, it sounds like he isn’t getting help with this and has no idea if he can even arrest full control again. It seems at this point, this has been going on for a while so he’s stopped trying.

In the video, the shadow alter is doing a GREAT job hiding the evidence; while of course probably just trying to not get caught, the shadow alter may also be trying to hide his crime from softboy Mikoto so he’s none the wiser.

He’s hoping he can be rid of the shadow alter side, but I think he also is dumping all his difficult feelings onto the shadow alter. Maybe he feels its some sort of release, even if he can’t control it, so he feels a lot of guilt over the shadow alter’s existence, even though that alter is serving a purpose as a conduit for those emotions.

I really really think though that there IS some connection between softboy Mikoto and shadow alter Mikoto. Maybe they are both truly aware of each other, hence the scene where they are viewing each other through the mirror. I think here, softboy Mikoto might be admitting that it feels good to let the shadow alter out, like a hug. The “minus energy” probably refers to the shadow alter.

“Maybe it’s okay that we’re separated like this?” he wonders. There seems to be a sense of feeling alive at least that is conveyed through the shadow alter.

SPLIT IN HALF- yeah, again, pretty encompassing.

In the video, I think this is when we have a switch, as Mikoto’s expression changes in the outside world mirror.

The chorus again, softboy Mikoto is shoved into the vaporwave shadow realm headspace. He’s asking the audience to investigate him here, but I also like to joke that he’s like “uwu look at me I could never harm anybody, pwease let me out”, which may be true only so far as softboy Mikoto is out.

I wonder if in “I will NEVER forgive you if this is happening to me” is directed at the shadow alter instead of the audience? Like softboy Mikoto is saying “I swear to god if you murdered someone im gonna be so pissed, but I also already kinda know it’s happening.” Just another take.

In the video, softboy Mikoto is THROWN into the headspace, where he is gifted with just one hint of what’s going on: The Devil tarot card.

You DARE accuse Miette of murder? Oh! 1000 years jail for Milgram viewer!

Now the vaporwave space starts to turn into a bloody mess; perhaps now softboy Mikoto is starting to put two and two together.

“Hurting it, holding it down, it doesn’t change anything, does it”- I definitely understand this being plural, like if your alters are causing problems, you may try and chastise them, or you may try and lock them away deep inside, but that often doesn’t stop them from existing. It’s really cool how that idea is present here. Like YES that’s how it is quite often. So even if softboy Mikoto TRIES to smother or accuse his shadow alter, that’s not going to change anything.

It being the same anywhere he goes makes me think he’s been putting up with this for a long time, that it’s not about what environment he’s in because his shadow alter is with him everywhere he goes.

“It’s like what’s wrong isn’t wrong”- may be referring to multiple things:

-the shadow alter having a different morality (hence why murder is okay for him, his indulgence in smokes and…redbull/alcohol, etc)

-OR, how softboy Mikoto’s amnesia isn’t letting him understand the full picture so everything is okay when he’s out fronting (shadow alter cleaned the place up and stuff, perhaps hiding all evidence of murder)

-“I’m already the fake one”- a very common sentiment for plural folks, worrying if you as an alter aren’t “the original” or if you’re not actually split and it’s something you’re making up, etc. I think softboy Mikoto is having these feelings. Poor boy, wish we could get you some therapy instead :/ (all of Milgram would be very different if only most of these people could get therapy, let’s be honest)

Now, what’s special here is that BOTH alters are in the headpace, with shadow alter Mikoto looming ominously behind softboy Mikoto.

During this next instrumental, just a side note: we see what’s going on through security footage. The security cameras reflecting a third person perspective is kind of neat in context of pluralism, where someone else fronting can feel like a third person awareness to another alter. I may be thinking too much into this one, but it’s a fun connection.

Another thing many plural folk go through: DISSOCIATION FROM REALITY. Ah yes, my good friend dissociation. Especially like in Mikoto’s case, where the consequences of being split have drastic consequences, he could be running away from the truth which may always be partially concealed to him. Something’s VERY wrong, he knows this for sure, and it may be at this point he really realizes “Oh shit. I just committed murder.” But instead of taking responsibility in any way, he’s trying to imagine that it’s a fabricated reality. I’m not going to say if this makes him bad or not, but it is a known coping mechanism.

I know I mention that the bad habits of smoking and drinking may be the shadow alters habits, but they could also be softboy Mikoto’s own methods of escapism, which definitely fits with the above lyrics. “I need to wake up soon”- but he still realizes that he’s going to have to face the harsh truth of reality soon.

Now this point indicates a marked change in softboy Mikoto and shadow alter Mikoto’s relationship: I believe there may be a time when softboy Mikoto expects to come back out to the front, but now the shadow alter is starting to take over fully and keep softboy Mikoto locked inside. This is supported by the Outcome card in his celtic cross spread being The Devil. Not only does this card have its own meanings, but here it may mean that the more violent side of him takes over.

Again, don’t know if he’s talking to the audience or his shadow alter in never forgiving this outcome. I believe softboy Mikoto does have a clearer morality in that murder is NOT okay, and if he were to fully acknowledge that he as a whole was capable of that, I think he’d break down. So he’s like “it better NOT be true” because he doesn’t know how he’d be able to deal with that.

Interesting in the video is when Mikoto snaps and the headspace turns red again; I would think this is when the shadow alter is entering the scene and taking over. The snap here is symbolic of the switch.

Now presumably softboy Mikoto is like “PWEASE WET ME OUT MISTEW OBAMA”, which, again with the double meaning, can refer to letting him out of the vaporwave shadow realm headspace OR letting him out of prison. Both apply.

“That it’s a lie

That I’m right”- a nice duality here. Mikoto is having difficulty separating the truth from reality.

Also NOW he is forgiving. Forgiveness vs not forgiveness (grudge)

I think it’s gotten so bad that he’s like “okay fine. Fine if I committed murder, fine if you’re accusing me of murder, but please help me understand what’s going on. Let me out”. Maybe he’ll forgive the shadow alter if only he fesses up to the murder.

Of note for the scene however is that shadow alter Mikoto is holding up The Fool card, which represents softboy Mikoto in this case. “I’m right” may be the shadow alter’s sentiment.

-THE CARDS AT THE END-

Then, all the cards show up in more detail, all depicting weapons instead of the standard minor arcana that you might see in your standard Rider Waite tarot deck (which these are based off of). The Wands are baseball bats, the Swords are kitchen knives, the Cups are…poison cans? Acid? The Pentacles are….records but I can see these being rotary saws if you squint. The Wheel of Fortune has car wheels with a snake….GTA time baby (the snake being hidden danger, the devil’s temptation, etc). The chariot is a really weird motorcycle death machine. I was thinking how like, people would drag people along behind them while driving a vehicle as a method of torture so there is that.

Now we see some cards not in the original spread- I think this represents shadow alter Mikoto inserting himself into the headspace and changing things to fit his goals. We see a couple placed in the original spread, but some don’t and are just free-floating, but you’ll see below we have enough context to decipher their meaning.

First, it’s the Page of Pentacles, which has taken over the position of the 7 of swords as the current challenge affecting the issue. This card indicates “Manifestation, financial opportunity, skill development”. I think this means the shadow alter is finally learning to take full control.

Then we see the reverse 2 of swords, which represents “Indecision, confusion, information overload, stalemate”. This could probably represent softboy Mikoto not suddenly understanding why the shadow alter is ALSO in the headspace. Maybe his dual presence in the outside world AND the headspace is indicative of exactly when he learned to take full control. This was NOT in Mikoto’s original spread.

Wheel of Fortune again, which was in the original spread. “Bad luck, negative external forces, out of control”. Yup, that confirms it.

Next, the Five of Swords from the original spread comes up. “Conflict, tension, loss.png, defeat, win at all costs, betrayal”. Softboy Mikoto is now being completely taken over. There is a facedown card on the chair. This might be the one that reads as Death later, so it may be that softboy Mikoto is…KILLED OFF?

Cup of Ace, “Love, compassion, creativity, overwhelming emotion”. I think this one is also meant to represent softboy Mikoto, but it could be that the shadow alter sees it as an act of mercy to take full control for softboy Mikoto. Maybe he feels his alter can’t handle reality and he’s going to take over full time. Or more likely he just has ulterior motives.

Reverse King of Cups. “emotional manipulation, moodiness, volatility”. Softboy Mikoto was lead along, thinking it was okay to leave things to the shadow alter or to exist alongside him. Now we see that isn’t a viable solution.

Reverse Five of Wands. “conflict avoidance, diversity, agreeing to disagree”. I went over this more in the other post.

Chariot is the last one, WHICH ALSO WAS NOT IN THE ORIGINAL SPREAD. “Control, willpower, success, action, determination”. The shadow alter Mikoto has taken full control. Which is very quickly followed by…

Shadow alter Mikoto drawing Death. Also not in the original spread. Perhaps effectively “killing off” softboy Mikoto and betraying him.

Concluding Thoughts.

Now, I understand I do take most of these lyrics from softboy Mikoto’s perspective, but I’m sure there’s a layer of deception added on by his shadow alter. The Challenge card of the 7 of swords did represent betrayal. So softboy Mikoto’s only context into what’s going on outside may be his headspace tarot reading. If you want to question some of the lyrics, or even think one of the alters is lying, that would add SO much to the complexity of the situation, and I wouldn’t put it past the Milgram team to add something like that.

Common Themes/Symbols:

The mirror, both in the headspace and in the outside world bathroom

The Hanged Man- in a painting in the headspace and on Mikoto’s shirt. Indicative of being wrongly accused or martyred. Softboy Mikoto is likely represented with this, as well as The Fool. The Fool painting probably is there to show that he doesn’t know any better, that he is without the knowledge of what his shadow alter is doing (or doesn’t believe he’s doing anything wrong)

The Half Moon- a light side and a dark side. Pretty self-explanatory. Symbolically, it can also represent life and death. NICE.

Sorry if the conclusions end up being kind of vague. That’s the way a lot of this video is; what’s really going on, as it usually is, is up to viewer interpretation at this stage. I was just hoping to provide a bit of context into the images in the video, plural life, and narrator interpretation. I just really love this video and after this full analysis hope others can at least appreciate the work that went into it.

#milgram #MeMe (milgram)#mikoto kayano #kayano mikoto

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gunterfan1992 · 3 years ago

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Season One of “Adventure Time”: Short Episode Reviews

At the start of 2021, I had this idea to write up a book wherein I reviewed every episode of Adventure Time, condensing my thoughts down into a few paragraphs. It seemed easy enough at the time —I could knock a season out in a week, no prob, I thought — but it turns out it was quite the challenge. Part of this was the difficulty of boiling everything down into a few coherent paragraphs that didn’t just repeat the ideas that “This episode is wacky. This episode is bad.” (I was also dealing with untreated ADHD, so that probably didn’t help.) Even though it was a hurdle, I still got through seasons 1-4, and I thought I’d post my reviews here. Maybe one day I’ll do something with ‘em, but for now, enjoy!

Season 1, Episode 1. “Slumber Party Panic” (692-009)

Airdate: April 5, 2010

Production Information: Elizabeth Ito and Adam Muto (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Synopsis: Princess Bubblegum accidentally resurrects a violent mob of candy zombies, which leads to Finn doing the unthinkable: He breaks a royal promise to Bubblegum.

Commentary: It is always a delight to remind people that Adventure Time—a show that would go on to win a slew of prestigious awards and be lauded by critics as one of the smartest kids show that has ever been made—begins with Princess Bubblegum “add[ing] three more drops of explosive diarrhea” to a scientific mixture with which she hopes to bring the dead back to life. This elision of a macabre topic like the resurrection of the dead with a poop joke is in many ways emblematic of the sort of humor upon which Adventure Time was built, and while “Slumber Party Panic” might not be the season’s best episode, it does a solid job introducing the odd, madcap energy that would allow the show to flourish in its youth.

The plot to “Slumber Party Panic”—storyboarded by future series director Elizabeth Ito as well as eventual showrunner Adam Muto—was hammered out well before the show’s mythology was set in stone, and so some of the more hyperbolic plot points from this episode (e.g., the dramatic revelation that candy citizens explode when scared, or the fact that the Gumball Guardians are also the nigh-omnipotent Guardians of the Royal Promise, who can stop and reverse time itself) had to be ignored in later seasons. Nevertheless, the main characters’ personalities are all firmly established, allowing them to play off one another in a way that does not feel forced or misguided; Jeremy Shada and John DiMaggio, in particular, have excellent chemistry, breathing whimsical life into Finn and Jake right off the bat. All things considered, “Slumber Party Panic” is a fun entry and a solid preview of the silliness that was to come. (3.5 stars)

Season 1, Episode 2. “Trouble in Lumpy Space” (692-015)

Airdate: April 5, 2010

Commentary: “Trouble in Lumpy Space” is a Ito-Muto production that introduces us to Lumpy Space Princess, the loquacious and dramatic drama queen who was destined to become one of the show’s breakout stars. A sentient blob of “irradiated stardust,” Lumpy Space Princess is an alien valley girl parody voiced by none other than series creator Pendleton Ward himself, and this episode does a commendable job illustrating the character’s immaturity and her ridiculously inflated sense of self-importance. This makes for good entertainment in and of it itself, but what really bumps this episode up a peg is the vocal delivery of the cast. Adventure Time always excelled when it came to its voice acting, but in this episode it is obvious that in this episode Jeremy Shada, John DiMaggio, and Pendleton Ward had extra fun playing around with their ridiculous “lumpy space” accents.

Aesthetically, this episode is quite the sensory experience. Lumpy Space itself is a hauntingly beautiful alien dimension of dark magenta skies and purple, pillowy clouds; it is a right shame that the show very rarely made use of this unique environment, considering how pleasant it is to look at. The episode’s soundtrack is also deserving of recognition, with much of the background music—especially the vapid pop tune that plays while Finn, Jake, and Lumpy Space Princess hitch a ride in Melissa’s car—recalling the elastic hyperpop that electro-wizzes from PC Music produce. The tunes add an extra dimension to the whole experience, helping to sell the idea that Lumpy Space is a silly but alien otherworld. (3 stars)

Season 1, Episode 3. “Prisoners of Love” (692-005)

Airdate: April 12, 2010

Production Information: Adam Muto and Pendleton Ward (storyboard artists); Craig Lewis and Adam Muto (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: Ladies and gentlemen, meet the Ice King! Beginning the series as a cartoonishly incompetent antagonist, Ice King would grow into one of the show’s most well-developed characters. While “Prisoners of Love,” being the character’s debut episode, sees the Ice King still in his one-dimensional “wicked wizard” stage, there are hints even at this early juncture—like the character’s dramatic insistence to pluck out a yogurt chip from his trail mix, or his spasmodic attempts to play the drums—that the Ice King is more than just a textbook baddie. Is he evil? Judging by his actions, it often looks that way, but there is also a deep sadness to him that makes even his worst behavior somewhat pitiful.

But as pathetic as he may be, Ice King’s lecherous habit of kidnapping princesses is completely unacceptable (Princesses, Adventure Time would like to remind us, should never be married against their will), and by episode’s end, Ice King receives his just desserts—a feminist-fueled kick to the face, courtesy of Finn the Human. The moral of the story is clear: Poor old Ice King might just be lonely, but that does not excuse him for acting like a frost-bitten incel. (3.5 stars)

Season 1, Episode 4. “Tree Trunks” (692-016)

Airdate: April 12, 2010

Production Information: Sean Jimenez and Bert Youn (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: “Tree Trunks” introduces the audience to the eponymous character, voiced by Polly Lou Livingston, an eccentric octogenarian with a pronounced southern drawl whom Pendleton Ward knew growing up in Texas. Despite Tree Trunks appearing as a sweet old pachyderm, much of her dialog is riddled with double entendres and subtle sex jokes that go over the heads of children, and as such, she is something of a divisive character in the Adventure Time fandom: While some viewers find her hilarious, others find her decidedly off-putting. In this episode, however, storyboard artists Sean Jimenez and Bert Youn strike a decent balance between the character’s funny and creepy sides (case in point: The scene wherein Tree Trunks, in the gawdiest of makeup, tries to seduce an evil monster with her “womanly charms and elephant prowess”). The major exception to this overall balance is the episode’s decidedly morbid conclusion, which features Tree Trunks exploding after tasting the crystal apple. This was perhaps the show’s first non sequitur ending, and almost certainly left an indelible imprint on the minds of viewers young and old alike. (3 stars)

Season 1, Episode 5. “The Enchiridion!” (692-001)

Airdate: April 19, 2010

Production Information: Patrick McHale, Adam Muto, and Pendleton Ward (storyboard artists and story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: According to the annals of cartoon history, the initial storyboard for “The Enchiridion” was whipped up by Ward and his crew members to prove to Cartoon Network that Adventure Time could be developed into a full-fledged series. This was almost certainly a stressful task, which necessitated that Ward et al. dissect the pilot, determine what elements worked, and then infuse those elements into a new storyboard. As a result of this “open art transplant,” there are quite a few analogs between the pilot and “The Enchiridion!”—e.g., the wacky dancing, the dream sequences, the ridiculous language—but this episode does a solid job of emulating the style of the pilot without wholesale duplicating it.

In terms of plot, “The Enchiridion!” is a fairly predictable adventure story, but it is one with enough clever variations that prevent the whole affair from dragging or being too boring; standout scenes include Finn and Jake having to deal with granny-zapping gnomes, and the D&D-inspired reverie in which Finn is tempted to slay an “unaligned” ant. The episode is further buoyed by several fun guest stars (including Mark Hamill, Fred Tatasciore, and even Black Flag’s Henry Rollins) that sprinkle a little additional energy on top of the whole thing. Given the exuberant fun of the episode and the way it easily introduces us to supporting characters like Princess Bubblegum, it is intriguing why the producers did not choose “The Enchiridion!” as the series premiere. That question aside, “The Enchiridion!” is one of the season’s stronger episode and an excellent place to start if you want a crash course in what made early Adventure Time so unique. (4 stars)

Season 1, Episode 6. “The Jiggler” (692-011)

Airdate: April 19, 2010

Production Information: Luther McLaurin and Armen Mirzaian (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: “The Jiggler” opens on a fun, hyperactive note, with Finn singing “Baby,” a catchy song coated in layer upon layer of sweet, crisp autotune. But soon after Finn and Jake discover and “adopt” the titular creature, the affair quickly devolves into a cartoonish snuff film of two dullards accidentally torturing a wild animal; the whole thing is made worse by the high volume of bodily fluids excreted by the Jiggler. Thankfully, Finn and Jake are able to return the Jiggler to its mother before it keels over, but this victory is undermined given that the whole situation was Finn and Jake’s fault to begin with. Perhaps it is best to view all of this as a cautionary tale: No matter how cute a wild animal may look, you probably should not take it home and make it dance for you. (2 stars)

Season 1, Episode 7. “Ricardio the Heart Guy” (692-007)

Airdate: April 26, 2010

Production Information: Sean Jimenez and Bert Youn (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon, Adam Muto, and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: “Ricardio the Heart Guy” introduces the titular villain, the brainy-but-sleazy heart of the Ice King voiced to perfection by the sonorous George Takei. Given how arrogant the character acts even before his true intentions are revealed, it is not much of a shock that Ricardio is a rotten egg, and this lack of mystery drags the whole episode down to some degree. Nevertheless, Takei’s histronic performance injects into the episode a funny sort of melodrama, with is further reinforced by Casey James Basichis’s sparklingly dark score, which mixes in elements of opera alongside the usual chiptune blips and bloops to emphasize Ricardio’s pretentiousness. (3 stars)

Season 1, Episode 8. “Business Time” (692-014)

Airdate: April 26, 2010

Commentary: On the surface, “Business Time” is but a silly parody of corporate culture that sees Finn and Jake become the veritable CEOs of an adventuring firm. It is a silly little set up, and the show has good fun poking fun at business-speak and the deleterious effects of rampant corporatization. At the same time, by relegating Finn and Jake to the sidelines near the middle of the episode, “Business Time” does itself a disservice by focusing not on the wacky shenanigans of the business men, but rather on the mundanity of Finn and Jake’s “managerial life.” It all comes together in the end, when Finn and Jake are forced to jump into the fray and destroy the Business Men’s vacuum robot, but the noticeable lag there in the middle of everything throws the pacing of the episode off.

But while “Business Time” might not be the strongest first-season entry, it has gained respect in the fandom for being the first episode to underline that the Land of Ooo exists in the far future after some sort of nuclear holocaust. In an interview with USA Today, Ward explained that this was a natural development that he had never planned: “[When] we did [the] episode about businessmen rising up from an iceberg at the bottom of a lake … that made the world post-apocalyptic, and we just ran with it” (X). Considering how major the post-apocalyptic trappings would become to the show’s mythology, it is a bit startling to learn that it was added in on a whim. Regardless, it was an inspired choice that added a tinge of sadness to the story of Finn and Jake. They were not just frolicking in some fantasy world; they were frolicking in the ruins of our world, long after nuclear war had devasted the planet. Is it bleak? Absolutely! But this bleakness contrasts nicely with Adventure Time’s colorful surface, resulting in a deeply rich ambivalence. Not many shows—let alone children’s shows!—have managed to fuse such extremes into a workable whole. (3.5 stars)

Season 1, Episode 9. “My Two Favorite People” (692-004)

Airdate: May 3, 2010

Production Information: Kent Osborne and Pendleton Ward (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: Almost all the first-season episodes that we have considered so far have placed a heavy emphasis on comedy. The point of these episodes is to make you laugh, and anything beyond that is gravy. “My Two Favorite People,” in contrast, may be the first that is grounded on a solidly emotional foundation, and while the episode is very funny, it is primarily interested in telling the poignant story of two brothers and a gal they both like. If anyone has ever found themselves caught up in a love triangle—whether real or, as in the case of this episode, imagined—Jake’s actions, although immature, will likely feel relatable. It is a cheesy cliché, but the story’s strength is that it all feels so real (which I recognize is a funny thing to say about a cartoon dog and his unicorn-rainbow beau).

“My Two Favorite People” is the first episode that really features Lady Rainicorn as a mover of the plot rather than just a fun side character, and it is a wonderful showcase for her. While a handful of later installments—namely season four’s “Lady & Peebles” and season eighth’s “Lady Raincorn of the Crystal Dimension”—would try to highlight Lady, “My Two Favorite People” is arguably the character’s funniest episodes, thanks in large part to her use of a universal translator, which allows the other characters to understand her. To some, a device such as this may seem like a cop-out, but storyboard artists Kent Osborne and Pendleton Ward cleverly preempt this criticism by making the device’s only useable setting one that gives Lady the voice of a great-great grandfather. Lady’s “old-man voice” is an episode highlight, and it makes many of the character’s lines (e.g., “Come on my darling! Wrap your legs around me!”) both hilarious and unsettling. (4 stars)

Season 1, Episode 10. “Memories of Boom Boom Mountain” (692-010)

Airdate: May 3, 2010

Commentary: During the production of season one Ward exerted considerable effort trying to shepherd the show’s crew in a coherent direction, all the while responding to critiques levelled by dozens of Cartoon Network executives. Many of these critiques were contradictory, and in the process of creating something that he was proud of while also appeasing everyone around him, Ward very nearly went bananas. The experience provided the bedrock for “Memories of Boom Boom Mountain,” and to anyone who has been given the arduous task of pleasing a whole slew of prickly critics, the episode will be immediately relatable.

In terms of the show’s budding mythology, “Memories of Boom Boom Mountain” is notable because it firmly establishes that Finn was adopted as a baby by Jake’s canine parents, Joshua and Margaret. This plot point was likely guided less by worldbuilding and more by humor (perhaps playing on the whole “raised by wolves” idiom). Nevertheless, this decision would have major ramifications for the show’s overarching narrative. Finn’s nature as the only human in Ooo was no longer a silly afterthought—it was now a mystery. Just who is Finn the Human, and where did he come from? These questions would linger for seasons, finally culminating in season eight’s touching miniseries Islands. (4 stars)

Season 1, Episode 11. “Wizard” (692-020)

Airdate: May 10, 2010

Production Information: Pete Browngardt, Adam Muto, and Bert Youn (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: “Wizard”—co-storyboarded by Pete Browngardt, an artist who storyboarded on Chowder and The Marvelous Misadventures of Flapjack before creating the divisive Uncle Grandpa for Cartoon Network—is an absolute bonkers installment that throws logic out the window by giving Finn and Jake magical powers. It is a plot setup almost guaranteed to be fun, and you can tell that the writers likely a good time coming up with increasingly asinine magical powers (e.g., “endless mayonnaise”).

But underneath all the distraught dust motes and captivating new hairstyles, “Wizard” also has a degree of depth, reading like a biting commentary on higher education-industrial complex in the United States. It does not seem coincidental that the strategies employ by Bufo’s scam wizard school are strikingly similar to those used by predatory colleges, which offer students a worthless degree alongside thousands of dollars of debt. The parallels are made stronger when it is revealed that all those whom Bufo has tricked are reluctant to upset the oppressive status quo, because they believe “newfangled thinking will get [everyone] killed”; this eerily mirrors those who downplay the student loan crisis, arguing that “that’s just the system works.” Finn will have none of this, however, and by episode’s end, he—channeling his myriad wizard powers and the vigor of “youth culture”—proves that if a system is broke, it has got to go. Maybe we could learn a thing or two from that. (4 stars)

Season 1, Episode 12. “Evicted!” (692-003)

Airdate: May 17, 2010

Production Information: Sean Jimenez and Bert Youn (storyboard artists); Adam Muto (story writer); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: “Evicted!” is considered a classic by most Adventure Time fans for one simple reason: It introduces the audience to Marceline the Vampire Queen. This iconic undead rocker chick managed to steal the spotlight whenever she appeared in an episode, and eventually she became one of the show’s more well-regarded characters. Given all this, there is some irony to the fact that in her debut, Marceline is the antagonist who steals our heroic duo’s beloved Tree Fort. Marceline is therefore similar to other season one baddies in that she tests Finn and Jake’s patience before engaging them in direct combat. But Marceline is set apart from other foes in how Finn and Jake defeat her—namely, that they do not. In fact, she pounds them into the ground almost effortlessly! Besting Finn and Jake is no easy task, meaning that while “Evicted!” might showcase Marceline’s nastier side, it nevertheless does an excellent job emphasizing how much of a badass she is; this goes a long way in explaining the character’s huge popularity.

But Marceline alone cannot an episode make. Luckily, “Evicted!” is further bolstered by several excellent design choices, including a bevy of fun background critters whipped up by character designer Tom Herpich, a slew of colorful background designs courtesy of Ghostshrimp and Santino Lascano, and a killer soundtrack. Regarding the latter, the stand-out tune is inarguably “House Hunting Song,” a comically overblown ballad detailing Finn and Jake’s arduous quest to find a new place to live. The song, sung mostly by Ward with a few lines delivered by Olson, is an emotion-laden earworm guaranteed to wiggle its way into your brain. (I mean, how can you not love a song that blames the murderous tendencies of vampires on simply being “burnt out on dealing with mortals”?) It very much is the blood-red cherry on top of everything, which helps to make “Evicted!” one of the season’s strongest episodes. (5 stars)

Season 1, Episode 13. “City of Thieves” (692-012)

Airdate: May 24, 2010

Commentary: “City of Thieves” is a workable if somewhat forgettable mid-season entry. The episode’s main strength is its titular setting, a bizarro municipality where theft is the law of the land. Unfortunately, the city is nothing more than a silly plot device, and the episode itself never really rises above “fine.” (2.5 stars)

Season 1, Episode 14. “The Witch’s Garden” (692-022)

Airdate: June 7, 2010

Production Information: Adam Muto, Kent Osborne, and Niki Yang (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: If you think the idea of Jake sassing Ooo’s cattiest witch is funny in and of itself, wait until you see this episode’s visuals. From Jake’s grotesque but silly “manbaby body” to the abject horror of Gary the Mermaid Queen, “The Witch’s Garden” is replete with several memorable character designs that make it a satisfying entry. (3 stars)

Season 1, Episode 15. “What Is Life?” (692-017)

Airdate: June 14, 2010

Commentary: Giving Finn and Ice King a son is not a move that I thought Adventure Time would ever make, let alone in the first season, but here we are. The bouncing baby boy in question is actually a clunky robot named NEPTR, voiced to sadsack perfection by comedian and musician Andy Milonakis. If you had told me prior to this episode that Milonakis could give a sentient microwave a sense of pathos, I would have never believed you, but in “What Is Life?” he does a commendable job conveying NEPTR’s pitiful nature. As for the episode itself, “What Is Life?” is a solid entry that introduces viewers to several recurring characters (one of whom being Gunter the penguin) while offering us a peek into the Ice King’s sad, lonely mind. (3 stars)

Season 1, Episode 16. “Ocean of Fear” (692-025)

Airdate: June 21, 2010

Production Information: J. G. Quintel and Cole Sanchez (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: “Oceans of Fear”—storyboarded by Cole Sanchez and J. G. Quintel, the latter of whom would go on to create Regular Show for Cartoon Network—is in an interesting installment that establishes Finn’s fear of the ocean, reminding the viewer that even great heroes will be forced to deal with irrational phobias at some point in their life. The character designs in this episode are quite amusing (with the standout being Finn’s grotesque “fear of the Ocean” face), and Mark Hamill, as always, does a wonderful job, using his trademark “Joker voice” to give the Fear Feaster a delightful air of villainy. But as with “Business Time,” many of these elements are upstaged by the episodes�� post-apocalyptic trappings. In fact, when I watched the episode for the first time, I paused it in several places, asking to myself, “Is that a wrecked battleship? Is that a bombed-out tank? Why are there ruins of a city underwater?” It is an understatement to say that this episode is positively littered with rusted debris and centuries-old detritus that testifies to Ooo’s traumatic history. For eagle-eyed fans hoping to piece together Adventure Time’s mysterious mythology, this episode is an absolute hoot. (3.5 stars)

Season 1, Episode 17. “When Wedding Bells Thaw” (692-013)

Airdate: June 28, 2010

Production Information: Kent Osborne and Niki Yang (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: One of the first episodes to team Ice King up with Finn and Jake, “When Wedding Bells Thaw” is a goofy lampooning of bachelor parties and the institution of marriage in general. Although the episode ends on a fairly predictive note (spoiler alert: Ice King tricked his fiancée into marriage), seeing Ice King get along with our heroes is charming, and in many ways it presages the Ice King’s future character growth. The episode’s strongest part is the short dialogue-free montage near the middle depicting Finn, Jake, and Ice King getting into all sorts of “manlorette party” shenanigans; this sequence is made all the stronger by Tim Kiefer’s chiptune score, which enlivens the party with a burst of synthesizers and electro-drums. (3 stars)

Season 1, Episode 18. “Dungeon” (692-013)

Airdate: June 28, 2010

Commentary: If there is one episode that feels like the entirety of Adventure Time’s first season distilled down into 11 minutes, then it would be “Dungeon.” An episode replete with outrageous monsters and wacky action, “Dungeon” is a high-energy installment that pays homage to the sprawling world of table-top gaming; indeed, it is not hard to imagine storyboard artists Elizabeth Ito and Adam Muto reaching for a D20 or a well-worn copy of the Monster Manual whenever it came time to block out a new scene. Stand-out moments from this episode include Finn’s encounter with the Demon Cat (famous for having “approximate knowledge of many things”), his visitation by a “guardian angel,” and the deus ex machina ending that see Princess Bubblegum swoop in to save the day. (“Get on my swan!”) And amidst all the silliness, “Dungeon” even manages to sneak in a sweet little message tucked snuggly in between all the wacky monsters about the importance of recognizing your weaknesses. (4.5 stars)

Season 1, Episode 19. “The Duke” (692-023)

Airdate: July 12, 2010

Commentary: For most of season one, the audience is presented a version of Princess Bubblegum that is bright, effervescent, and totally nonthreatening; the monarch, it seems, is as aggressive as a marshmallow. But in “The Duke,” this all changes, and we finally get to see the princess’s darker, authoritarian side. Unhinged Princess Bubblegum is quite a sight to behold (as is the sight of green-and-bald Bubblegum), but it adds another layer of to the saccharine sovereign, setting her up for substantial character development a few seasons down the road. (3 stars)

Season 1, Episode 20. “Freak City” (692-008)

Airdate: July 26, 2010

Production Information: Tom Herpich and Pendleton Ward (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: “Freak City” introduces the audience to Magic Man, a deranged and flamboyant Martian wizard known for meaninglessly harassing the citizens of Ooo. Although the character’s backstory would be fleshed out in later seasons and eventually come to play a major part in the mythology of the series, this episode was storyboarded well before these developments were dreamed up, meaning that here, Magic Man functions as a simple (albeit funny) villain-of-the-week whose nihilistic tendencies clash wonderfully with Finn’s optimistic worldview. Finn is so used to dividing the world up into “good guys” and “evil guys,” but his run-in with Magic Man is proof that morality is far more confusing than he would like to believe. The main problem is that Magic Man is not really evil: He is clinically insane—a violent psychopath—who does not care about his actions impacting others. No climactic fight or eleventh-hour pep talk is enough to fix him.

On top of this rather weighty consideration of morality and mental instability, “Freak City” contains another, more straightforward message about the power of teamwork and how people should work as one to overcome common problems. Storyboard artists Pendleton Ward and Tom Herpich have quite a bit of fun taking the idiom literally by forcing Finn and the other denizens of Freak City pile on top of one another to function as a single, grotesque being that is capable of fighting Magic Man. While “Freak City” loses some points for espousing rhetoric that folks who are depressed can simply will themselves out of their funk, it makes up for these deficits elsewhere with its character designs—ranging from the inside-out bird to the two-headed monster that Finn groin-strikes—which are all bizarre in the best, most creative way possible. (3.5 stars)

Season 1, Episode 21. “Donny” (692-018)

Airdate: August 9, 2010

Commentary: A rather forgettable protagonist and only a smattering of memorable lines make “Donny” the season’s weakest link. The episode does get points for introducing us to “whywolves” (“Creatures possessed by the spirit of inquiry—and bloodlust!”), but they are not enough to completely save it from mediocrity. (2 stars)

Season 1, Episode 22. “Henchman” (692-021)

Airdate: August 23, 2010

Production Information: Luther McLaurin and Cole Sanchez (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: While “Evicted!” depicted Marceline as an apathetic asshole, “Henchman” starts to soften the vampire queen by showing that her evil exterior is an elaborate facade, and that deep down she is really just a prank-loving trickster—or, as Finn puts it, “a radical dame who likes to play games.” This might seem nothing more than a subtle tweak, but it does wonders for Marceline’s characterization; by episode’s end, as Finn and his vampiric “master” chat quite cheerfully in a field of strawberries, it is clear that the writers are setting up Marceline to become a legitimate pal to Finn and Jake, rather than just an avatar of chaos who drops in every once in awhile to shake things up. This was a wise decision, as it provided Marceline with the chance to grow into a hero in her own right with whom the audience can happily cheer along.

Since “Henchman” is predicated on Marceline pranking Finn, storyboard artists Luther McLaurin and Cole Sanchez have a great deal of fun mocking up outrageous scenarios that seem evil at first glance, but are revealed to be quite benign. Perhaps the funniest of these situations is Marceline raising an army of undead skeletons only to throw them a concert, and the vampire queen’s demand that Finn kill a little dimple-plant, which looks like a cutie before it turns into an Audrey II-esque abomination from John Carpenter’s darkest nightmares. (4 stars)

Season 1, Episode 23. “Rainy Day Daydream” (692-002)

Airdate: September 6, 2010

Production Information: Pendleton Ward (storyboard artist); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: “Rainy Day Daydream” is a beautiful representation of creativity in its purest form. Channeling his love of multilevel video games and Dungeons and Dragons, solo storyboard artist and series creator Pendleton Ward uses the pretext of Jake’s imagination affecting reality as an opportunity to bounce from one ridiculous plot point to another to great effect. The whole thing feels like an exercise in jovial spontaneity, and while “writing the story as you go” can sometime result in disjointed or sloppy final products, here Ward makes it work, using the approach to illustrate the almost limitless potential of imagination. Another strength of the episode is the way it throws dozens of ridiculous obstacles at Finn and Jake without the aid of equally ridiculous visuals; in fact, almost every hindrance in the episode is invisible to both Finn and the audience, and we only learn what is going on thanks to Jake’s narration. The fact that this approach works and is not boring is a testament to Ward’s skills as a storyteller and dialogue writer. (4.5 stars)

Season 1, Episode 24. “What Have You Done?” (692-027)

Airdate: September 13, 2010

Commentary: In addition to providing us with another glimpse of Bubblegum’s dark side, “What Have You Done?” also serves as an interesting meditation on morality and preemptive punishment. As earlier episodes have confirmed, the Ice King is a creepy little deviant, but is it right for Finn and Jake to imprison him without a cause? This is a real legal question, and the show handles it in a surprisingly sophisticated way, concluding more or less that the writ of habeas corpus must be preserved. Of course, this is all undermined to some degree when we learn that the Ice King actually is to blame, but thanks to some quick thinking on the part of Finn, our heroes are able to save the day without having to turn to the carceral powers of the state. (And people say Adventure Time is not sophisticated...) (3 stars)

Season 1, Episode 25. “His Hero” (692-026)

Airdate: September 20, 2010

Commentary: Who is the greatest hero ever? If you answered, “Finn!” it is obvious that you have yet to see “His Hero,” for the correct answer is Billy, of course! Lou Ferrigno guest stars in this episode as the aforementioned defender of Ooo, enlivening the character with his distinctive voice. As for the episode itself, storyboard artists Kent Osborne and Niki Yang—with an assist from the ever-dependable Adam Muto—produce some of their best work this season, filling each scene with witty dialogue and zany shenanigans. Arguably, the episode’s pièce de resistance is the short montage of Billy’s past achievements, which plays alongside a song, sung by Muto, extolling the hero’s greatness; energetic and wacky, the song in many ways typifies the “chaotic heroism” that defined the show’s first season.

Like many other first-season episodes, “His Hero” ends with a counterintuitive “anti-moral,” stressing that while a commitment to non-violence might seem subversive on the surface, it is actually an ineffective way to make the world a better place; instead, the episode argues that direct physical action—i.e., beating the snot out of monsters and bad guys—is necessary if heroes want to save people from oppression. This may all come across as contrarian silliness, but I would argue that it is profoundly radical, rejecting “common sense” ideals about peace that really only help those in positions of power. (Side note, if the kids who grew up watching Adventure Time turn into a bunch of revolutionaries, I think we will know the cause.) (4 stars)

Season 1, Episode 26. “Gut Grinder” (692-024)

Airdate: September 27, 2010

Production Information: Ako Castuera and Bert Youn (storyboard artists); Tim McKeon and Merriwether Williams (story writers); Larry Leichliter (director), Patrick McHale (creative director), Nick Jennings (art director)

Commentary: Much like “Ricardio the Heart Guy,” this episode suffers due to a lack of a solid mystery; from the start, it seems obvious that Jake is not the one responsible for the robberies. Furthermore, the reveal that Sharon is the one behind the robberies comes with almost no dramatical weight, since we have no idea who she is. The whole thing is forgettable, which is a shame given that this is the season finale. (2 stars)

(Huge shout out to @sometipsygnostalgic for reading over these a few months ago and offering feedback. Also, I want to thank @j4gm for posting his “Slumber Party Panic” review, which made me remember these write-ups!)

#adventure time #atimers #season 1 #season one #reviews #finn #jake #finn the human #jake the dog #marceline #pb #bubblegum #princess bubblegum #marceline the vampire queen #ice king #pen ward #pendleton ward

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kuvvydraws · 2 years ago

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Aw poor babys-

Sorry for flooding you with kid related asks.

How different are things if the boys know their friend has a kid? Would hangouts be different, would they want to see the kid or rather avoid them?

Raavi loves kids and they're very childish themselves when it matters so yep, they're jumping right in to play with them if needed. They're going to miss being openly raunchy if the kid joins all the hangouts tho, they need to be crash and have a loose tongue or they'll start using chaos as an outlet ... And eventually return to the nasty stuff somehow, with double entendres and references and looks. Because you cannot contain the Raavi, sorry, no one can. It's safer to keep the hangouts with the kid on a safe average so no one goes insane

Órdago is pretty chill about it since the very beginning and he does like kids a lot - he raised Raavi after all, so he knows his way around the issue of ... Children. He usually avoids kids due to his reputation but can interact with them easily, even if he's a bit of a brute when playing with them. Whether the kid is there or not, Órdago doesn't really care? He doesn't have a lot of kid-unfriendly behaviours outside of his bullying -yes, I know.

Luque is initially angry about not knowing, so this is a bit complex. He doesn't care about the child, to put it coldly, just that he was out of the loop when it comes to something as important as that is kept from him when he's close with someone. He spirals into a hole of self hate and mistrust and paranoia and it's really hard for him to escape it. It's the feeling of betrayal, really? Which is silly, because no one owes him any information about themselves but again.... It's complicated. When it comes to hanging out with the kid, Luque doesn't really care but I'd say it's risky. Luque barely censors himself, won't even try, and he's 24/7 seductive and nasty or chaotic. He will treat the kid acknowledging what they are but beyond that - "so, you're like... Five, right?" - it's game. Leave Luque unsupervised with a child at your own discretion. He's not going to be violent or something like that, but being a perv is part of his personality and he's very inappropriate in general. Please, bonk him or give him serious looks to keep him under control because it's like trying to ensnare a tornado.

#kuvvytalks #raavi #órdago #luque #hc #undertale

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years ago

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for the meet ugly asks, 18 with the ot4? nsfw, if possible? thanks

Here you go! It is indeed NSFW.

18: we were just introduced at a party by our mutual friend and when my partner comes to join us, you freak out because you were just outside making out with them and you pull me aside to tell me

“Duck! Over here!” Aubrey waves him through the crowd, pointing to the lumberjack lookalike next to her, “this is the guy I was telling you about. Barclay’s an old friend of Dani's and, get this, he and Indrid know each other too. Wait, where is mr. mothman?” Aubrey cranes her neck.

“He had to work a late shift, but he says hi. Literally” He fumbles his phone, “fuck, sorry, first thing to go when I’ve been drinkin is my coordination.” He eventually triumphs, showing them the photo of Indrid, silver hair tied back and Void the Rat perched on the sleeve of his ‘Waffle House’ shirt. The sticker on the photo says “Hi!”

“Aww” Barclay’s voice is the epitome of gentle giant, “he always wanted a rat. I’m glad he got one.”

“Whelp, now that I got you two talking, I’m gonna go spend some ‘quality time’ with my girlfriend.”

“Just don't get caught makin’ out in a closet again.” Duck calls. Aubrey flips him off with a smile.

“So how did you and Indrid--oh, there you are babe. Thought you mighta snuck out to take a work call.”

“No, just had to de-escalate a shoving match on the back porch. I know you love Jake, but maybe next time we should just have him over rather than coming to the kind of party we outgrew in undergrad. I’m discovering I don’t enjoy being under the influence in this kind of cramped party anymore."

“Yeah, not really loving the noise. I lose my voice enough in the kitchen. Duck, this is my boyfriend, Joseph. Joseph, this is Duck, he’s a friend of Dani and Aubrey’s.”

Duck crunches his cup as his mind takes a violent spin an hour into the past.

He’d been out on the side deck getting some air and sipping his beer when a guy who looks like he walked in from the set of some splashy T.V show where everyone is hot joined him. His lips looked damn good whenever he sipped his beer and Duck did his best to turn on the southern charm. It was sort of working, until he complimented the guys button up; it was covered in drawings of cryptids--including mothman, Indrid’s favorite--and fit him in the way that made Duck want to rip the buttons off with his teeth. As soon as he demonstrated his enjoyment of listening to a hot guy talk about monsters, the taller man moved gradually closer, bumping shoulders and locking eyes with growing boldness. When Duck said the song booming out of the house was his go-to for putting the moves on someone, the other man asked to see his technique.

They spent the next three songs in the darkest corner of the porch, Duck’s back pressing into metal slats as his new friend wove his fingers into his hair and teased their tongues together with an experts touch.

When Duck breathlessly asked if he wanted to go somewhere more private, he murmured, “Only after we’ve had a chance to talk about some things.”

Then his phone buzzed and he was gone, leaving Duck horny and tipsy under the stars.

Back in the present, he does everything possible to keep from meeting Joseph’s eyes as he mumbles, “I, uh, I, I need some help with somethin in the kitchen? Fuck, yeah, kitchen, Barclay can you come help?”

“Sure. Be right back, babe.”

The kitchen is packed with people doing ill-advised things with drinks, so Duck keeps Barclay in the hall as he whispers, “Man, I, I’m so fuckin sorry but I gotta say somethin’. Joe and I, we, uh, we already met.”

“Makes sense, he’s been in town a year. I just got here.”

“That ain’t the kind of meetin I mean. We got a little, uh, friendly on the porch tonight.”

Barclay gives an “ah” of understanding. Then he chuckles, “thought he looked a little ruffled when he passed me earlier.”

“I’m real fuckin sorry, I didn’t know. ‘Drid and I got an, an agreement, but I shoulda checked to see if he was datin someone.”

“That would have been smart.” Joe appears at Barclay’s shoulder, “but that’s why I said we needed to talk before we did anything else.” He strokes Barclay’s beard, “you and Indrid aren’t the only ones with an open relationship of sorts.”

“Ohthankfuck.” Duck slumps against the wall.

“While I was making sure no one made a punch that could give them alcohol poisoning, you were getting hot and heavy? That’s not fair, babe.” Barclay teases.

“I’ll make it up to you, big guy. Are you safe to drive?”

“Gonna give it another half-hour, just to be safe. You need a ride home, Duck?”

“Uh, sure, that’d be great.”

Soon, he’s bundled in the back of a Subaru, Joe sitting beside him while Barclay navigates through Saturday night traffic. They luck out; the game ran long, so they’re not fighting the throng coming out of the football stadium. When they reach his apartment, Joe stops him and hands Duck his phone. Duck didn’t even feel him take it in the first place. As he waves goodnight, he spots a new number sitting in his contacts and smiles.

----------------------------------------------------------

“...the point is, it amuses me that Joseph shares my taste in me.” Indrid sips his white chocolate mocha, then yawns wide enough for Barclay to spot his tongue piercing, “apologies, I didn’t get to bed until three.”

“Jesus, man, gonna tell Duck to start knocking you out.”

“I was working on commissions.”

Barclay gives him a disbelieving look.

“....I was working on commissions until midnight. Then I spent three hours watching videos on the finer points of home entomology.”

“There it is. You can’t fool me, I remember what you were like at sleepovers.”

“It was very important to read every single Eyewitness book your parents generously bought you.” Indrid takes another sip with an imperious tilt of his head.

Barclay bumps his unoccupied hand, “It’s so fucking nice to see you again.”

Indrid looks at him over his glasses, brown eyes as beautiful as they were when he was sixteen, “Likewise. Oh!” He perks up, “do you know what this means? We can have a double-date! I’ve always wanted to try that.”

“Sure Joseph will be into it; he has a spreadsheet of optimal date locations. Bet he’ll have fun making one for double-dates.”

“That is...exceptionally geeky.”

Barclay sends a love-struck smile into his coffee cup, “Yeah, he is.”

-----------------------------------------------

Joe is more diabolical than Duck gave him credit for. And he thought he was pretty fucking cunning after he suggest seeing the local hockey team; the chilly arena gave Indrid and excuse to cuddle up to anyone who held still for too long and gave Joe plenty of opportunities to make double entendres about sticks in Duck’s ear.

But a night out at “Woofs” AKA the kind of gay bar where Duck and Barclay get hit on constantly is a whole new level of torment. Especially because Indrid hangs off Duck proudly (when he’s not teasing Barclay for the number of free drinks he’s getting) and Joseph even asks him to dance. When he peeks over the taller man’s shoulder, he sees Barclay resting his hand on Indrid’s arm while whispering something that makes him grin.

Dancing really is the most fitting thing he could be doing, because it’s what all four of them have chosen to do about this; dance around the fact that Indrid and Barclay dated, dance around the fact Joe and Duck kissed, danced around the fact that they’re more or less acting like a polycule already.

“Oh no.” Joe mutters, eyes on the door, “things are about to get loud.”

Duck’s about to point out that the club is already loud when he’s pulled out of the path of not one, but two bachelorette parties. They opt to stay, although Barclay gets hit on by someone who doesn’t believe he’s gay. Joe takes him onto the floor for a slow dance while Duck steps into the bathroom. When he comes out, his boyfriend is nowhere to be found.

“You guys seen ‘Drid?”

Joe shakes his head, all three of them already moving for the door. They find Indrid across the street on a bench, hunched over and tapping on his knees.

“‘Drid?” Duck sits gently beside him, “you get overwhelmed?”

Indrid nods.

“You wanna head home?”

Another nod. Duck suspects the overstimulation spiked without warning, which usually means…

“You need to be nonverbal for a bit?”

This time Indrid looks at him when he nods, then cringes when he sees Joe and Barclay are watching.

“Our place is closer.” Joe offers, copying Duck’s tone, “we can all bus back there so you can be somewhere quiet. Or, um, if you need it to just be you two, that’s fine too.”

Indrid holds up a finger, indicating option one. Duck helps him up and let’s him stay hidden against his shoulder while they wait for the bus.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

This used to terrify Barclay. He and Indrid would be hanging out, would be stealthily holding hands in the top row of the football stadium, and his boyfriend would shut down. Barclay, sensing distress, would try to figure out what was wrong, would start to panic when Indrid couldn’t communicate the things happening in his mind and body. They had more than one fight where his attempts to help only made Indrid more overstimulated to the point he snapped at him to fuck off (and, on one occasion, hissed at him).

They worked it out eventually, Barclay keeping a mental list of things that soothed his friend. Watching Duck do some of them, how calm and loving he was, makes something complex bloom in his chest, as vibrant and beautiful as the Dahlias Duck brought them from the garden (“weather’s been so fuckin weird things are bloomin when they shouldn’t”).

When they make it home, Duck stops in the living room and looks between Indrid and Barclay for a moment. Then he murmurs, “‘Drid, you want Barclay to keep you company for a bit?”

Indrid smiles and nods, takes Barclay’s hand and follows him to the bedroom. He lets his memories drive, keeps the light off, arranges his body so Indrid can relax against him, and pets his hair with slow, light motions. His friend hums, meaning he’s on the right track. As he strokes his head he notices the black roots peeking through the silver; it was jarring to see Indrid with pale hair when all his memories were of dark locks of it falling over his face or catching on Barclays hands.

He looks good with the silver. More like himself.

Metal pokes his chest. He takes the glasses Indrid hands him, sets them on Joseph’s stack of library books, then gives a startled, “nnfph” as his friend pulls Barclay on top of him.

“Like the weight” Indrid mumbles, wrapping his arms around him. The longer they lay there, the easier it is to overhear the conversation in the other room.

“I feel awful, if I’d known I’d have never recommended we go somewhere like a loud bar.”

“S’okay, Joe. ‘Drid is still a little wary of tellin people that’s something he has to consider when goin’ out; Dani and them get it, but other folks think he’s bein’ a buzzkill.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“You’re tellin me. Besides, sometimes it comes up so fast, or happens in places he ain’t anticipatin it. He’ll be okay, especially with Barclay takin’ care of him.”

A pause, then, “Do you need someone to, um, take care of you?”

“Joe-”

“It’s alright if the answer is no. But part of my plan was to get everyone in a, um, bit of a frisky mood.”

A snicker, “Frisky?”

“I was trying not to be too crude.”

“Joe, you know how I feel about you. But we gotta check with the others to be sure everythin is on the level.”

“Tell them to come in.” Indrid whispers, a smile plain in his voice.

“Uh, babe? Could you and Duck come in here a sec?”

“Everythin oka--ffft” Duck snorts a laugh, “guess he improvised not havin a weighted blanket.”

“That I did.”

Duck bursts into a grin, hurrying to settle on the bed near Indrid’s head, “Hey, sugar. How you feelin’?”

“Much better. It helps that this one is very soothing.” He toys with Barclay’s hair, sending goosebumps up his arms, “though it seems he had a slighty different reaction to our contact.”

Barclay was so distracted by the conversation that he hadn’t realized his cock was hardening along the familiar warmth of Indrid’s thigh whenever one of them shifted.

“Fuck, Indrid, I’m sorry-”

“It’s alright. In fact, it is rather relevant to what you two were discussing in the hall. Am I correct that we all wish to be in some form of polyamorous relationship with each other?”

“Yes” say two voices along with his own.

“Wonderful. I suggest we hash out details later. Right now, it seems you two have, ah, unfinished business.”

“Fuckin finallyAH” Duck cackles as Joseph knocks him backwards, kissing him frantically while yanking up his shirt. As soon as his belly is exposed Joseph begins pawing and groping from there up his sides. Indrid nudges Barclay so they can sit up, allowing the other two more room to disrobe. Or, more accurately, for Joseph to disrobe both himself and Duck, since the shorter man is having trouble moving his limbs between bursts of laughter and moaning.

Joseph crawls backwards, shoving Duck’s legs apart and groping his thighs, “I’ve wanted to get my hands on these since the party. Lord almighty did you look good in those jeans.” He kisses his way up the left thigh, moaning and mouthing at the skin. His posture puts his perfect ass in the air, which happens to be one of Barclay’s favorite views in the whole world. He unzips his pants, fights to get his cock out as Indrid begins offering commentary from beside him.

“Mmmm, were I not still rather exhausted, I’d make him do that to us both.”

Joseph raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t move his mouth from where it’s teasing Duck’s inner thigh.

“Know you would.” He reaches down to play with Joseph’s hair, “‘Drid’s got a whole fantasy where you blow him while I sit on his face.”

“Funny” Barclay’s voice is turning rough with desire,“he’s got one where he takes all three of us at once.”

Joseph’s face lacks any trace of self-consciousness, a rare thing for him, which means this whole arrangement is fucking brilliant. He simply nods, then takes Duck’s dick into his mouth.

“JEsus, fuck, Joe, ohfuckyeah.” Duck holds Joseph’s head encouragingly, “shoulda known you’d be good at this, you’re so fuckin good at everythin, fuck, fuck.”

Barclay grips his cock, trying to stroke in time with movements of Joseph’s head. Slender fingers carefully push his aside as Indrid purrs, “allow me.”

“You, you don’t have to, you said you were tired-”

“Not too tired for this” he strokes up more firmly, then brushes their lips together, “or this.”

It’s like tasting Hershey Chocolate or Marionberry Pie, transporting him back to their shitty hometown in Eastern Oregon, to summer heat on his skin and basement air in his nose as Indrid proved that yes, kissing boys was what he wanted to do.

Indrid’s certainly gotten better at it since then. Barclay likes to think he has, hopes the other man is feeling even half the things currently piling up in Barclay’s chest.

“Oh.” Indrid sighs as he pulls back, “that’s even better than I remember.”

A particularly loud moan from Joseph, underscored by Duck cursing happily, brings them back to the present.

Barclay moans as Indrid’s hand moves more deliberately.

“Do you remember the first time we did this?”

“Uh huh, c-couch, in that, fuck, that basement rec room at my house.��

“You came so fast.”

“Can’t really blame me.”

“Given the sounds he’s making, he might do the same thing now.” Joseph smiles at them from over Duck’s knee, “that’s one of the best things about you. You’re so sensitive, big guy.”

Barclay whines his name. His boyfriend winks, then dives back down to render Duck speechless.

“You really are” Indrid nips his ear, “remember when we, ah, lost it to each other?”

“Mmmhmm” he whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut as if that might make all this last longer. Joseph echoes the noise, making Duck groan.

“Just picture it, Joseph” Indrid is getting into it now, panting and pink-cheeked, “Barclay, eighteen and even shyer than he is now, in my lap, begging me to fuck him.”

‘I, I wasn’t the only one begging.” He grins.

“Of course not. I was desperate to get to it because just seeing you naked had me certain I was going to--one moment” he releases Barclay’s cock, ignoring his whimper to clamber into a position that allows him to kiss Duck as the shorter man grinds into Joseph’s mouth. He doesn’t pull back until Duck’s hips slow and Joseph is busy wiping his lips.

“I can never resist kissing you while you cum.”

“Fuck I love you.” Duck cups Indrid’s cheek. The silver haired man rubs against his palm a moment, then retreats. Duck growls at Joseph, “as for you, you got ten seconds to open your legs so I can show you a good time.”

“So thoughtful” Indrid pecks his cheek, returns to Barclay, “now, where was I…”

“Shy, AHshit, fuckingchristthat’s good.” Joseph’s legs sprawl open as Duck finger-fucks him, sitting on his side to kiss him without obstructing Barclay’s view.

“Ah yes.” He kisses Barclays neck, hand teasing the head of his cock, “you insisted on bottoming because you were so scared you might hurt me. I can still see it, you on your hands and knees, asking me to take you--those were your exact words--then whimpering when I finally got my cock in.”

“Fuck” Joseph is clearly enjoying the story; if Barclay had known he was into this, he would have made all his exes record voicemails describing their exploits.

“If memory serves I came very fast, because you were so much tighter than I expected and you, you felt so good. I used my hands to get you off-”

“Uh huh, fuck, you hadn’t pulled out yet and it was so fucking good, fuck, Indrid-”

“You made such cute noises when you came” a slow, deep kiss as heat floods him, “I wonder if you’ll do the same now.”

“Probably” is all he grunts out before he’s cumming hard enough that most of it hits Joseph’s stomach rather than Indrid’s fingers. His head lolls as his cock pulses, and beneath his own heartbeat he picks up Duck ordering Joseph to be good and cum for him. After a moment, there’s the distinct moan his boyfriend makes during his climax. It’s followed, confusingly, by weak laughter. His eyes flutter open to see Indrid licking his cum off Joseph’s chest, which happens to be ticklish.

He scoots over to join them, Joseph kissing him sleepily the instant he’s close enough.

“You sure you don’t need to cum, sugar?”

“I’m only half-hard, and I know I’m too tired to make it the rest of the way. Not that this wasn’t supremely satisfying. But you each owe me an orgasm sometime in the future.”

“All in favor of blowin ‘Drids mind tomorrow mornin’”

He and the other two raise their hands in sync. Then the four of them collapse, laughing, in each others arms.

#meet ugly #OT4: Government Men and Their Cryptid Boyfriends #indruck #sternclay #inclay #autistic Indrid #trans duck newton #trans agent stern #reader request #duck newton/agent stern

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karlyfr13s · 4 years ago

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Oathkeeper Chapter 2

It was supposed to be a CS one-shot, but then the CSMM crew got ahold of me and now we’re in multi-chapter mode. Thanks to the ladies for their inspiration, enabling, and cheering me on. Looking at you @teamhook, @caught-in-the-filter, @hollyethecurious, @gingerpolyglot (tell me if you want added, and coach the newbie in where these actually belong).

A HUGE thank you to @veryverynotgood who is the most radiant beta and gives me flails that keep me going through the self-doubt.

Links in case you missed Chapter 1 or prefer to read on ao3

Note: the rating is now M due to violent imagery.

Killian’s first week in Storybrooke was unconventional and more than a little confusing. Everyone in the whole bloody town seemed related, or at least so interconnected there may as well be blood involved; it drew attention to him and he spent most days certain he was being watched.

Certainly there were fewer eyes on him than on the young Lost Boy, Felix, and for that Killian was grateful. He observed the woman everyone called Granny as she put the lad to work with a nearly endless list of chores, always under her watchful, scrutinizing eye. In want of conversation one evening, he’d inquired about the choice to take on someone such as Felix. That had earned him a derisive snort and an eye-roll that rivaled Emma Swan’s when Granny explained in no uncertain terms that she was well-equipped for the job.

“Listen, Captain,” she leaned on the bar as he sipped a rum, “if I can raise Ruby through puberty as a damn wolf, I can handle one scrappy Lost Boy. What he needs is a strong guiding hand, and a good dose of responsibility--that Pan let those kids run wild.” Killian tipped his glass to her at that assessment, knowing all too clearly how the lads were deceived and used throughout their time in Neverland. “Structure, Hoo--it’s Killian, right?” she amended quickly. “Kids need structure and routine. You’d do well to remember that.”

Not for the first time, Killian wondered exactly how much Granny overheard and knew as she watched her patrons come and go. In fact, she was the only one in town who referred to him by his given name, most simply opting for Hook or Captain if they were being pleasant. Or ‘the pirate’ if they happen to be Emma’s father, he added. His ponderance was abruptly interrupted when the door crashed open and an exasperated looking Emma quickly crossed to the bar and sank down one stool from his own.

“This one calls for a whisky on the rocks, Granny,” she huffed, casting a sidelong glance at Killian’s own glass. “You too, huh? Must be going around today.” He watched as she shucked her red leather jacket, tossing it aside on the barstool between them and he gave her a moment, offering a quick clink of his glass once her own libation arrived.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Killian kept his voice light, noting the tension in the set of her shoulders and jaw.

She heaved a sigh and he made a valiant effort to focus on her stunning green eyes rather than the assets her movements showcased in that moment. “The short version? I’m sick of my mother,” she tripped on the word, “trying to be my life coach. I’m tired of inane ‘loitering’ reports from the surliest dwarf, and I cannot seem to get--” her momentum was immediately interrupted by the door and a sudden call across the diner.

“Ems, there you are!”

“--a single minute of quiet,” Emma finished lowly while Neal sauntered over and leaned against the counter, placing himself between Killian and her.

“So, I was thinking we could grab dinner. You know, you, me and Henry? Or maybe just you and me if Regina has--”

“Neal, I’ve had a long day. I am going to enjoy this drink, maybe a second, and then I am eating whatever I rummage out of the pantry at Mary Margaret’s since she and David are out on a date.”

“So you have the place to yourself?”

Killian understood the insinuation and clenched his jaw. He started counting backward from ten while he listened to Emma try to redirect Neal’s plans, and when he heard the other man’s second attempt to garner an invitation he reset the clock and started the count at twenty. Perhaps she cares for him, he reminded himself. She is tired and had a difficult day, but that does not mean she has chosen not to be with--

Her voice was suddenly raised and Killian felt like he was about four steps behind the conversation as he snapped to attention on the words she spat at the man across from her.

“Just go-- go, Neal. This isn’t happening. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. It is not happening .” Whatever expression she held in that moment must have been truly glorious to earn Neal’s melodramatic scoff as he stormed out the diner and slammed the door behind him.

Granny simply poured a healthy splash of whisky in Emma’s glass in reply before shuffling back to the kitchen as she had witnessed the whole interaction mere steps from Killian, who just now was actively working to control both his expression and the thoughts wheeling through his mind at her parting shot. What exactly was not happening between them? Where did that leave him?

Killian glanced over at Emma, her eyes ablaze as if challenging him to comment on the interaction. “Darts are quiet,” he offered congenially, smiling what he considered his most winning grin.

That earned him a quick bark of laughter. “And a little violent,” she smirked.

“Aye, that too, Swan.”

She held up her glass and they shared their second silent toast of the evening. “I could use a little of both,” she added as she got up, glass in hand and the beginnings of a smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

“I hear rumor they even sell food at this establishment,” Killian pressed his luck a bit as they collected the two sets of darts and set up.

“You don’t say?” She shook her head at him and he watched her consider the offer. “Loser buys?”

“Of course, love.” He sketched her a bow, flourishing his hand and making a show of it to cover up his surprise.

“Not your love,” she retorted, sinking a bullseye on her first try while Killian considered how grateful he was that Granny accepted doubloons. Where had she learned to play like this?

...

Granny hollered last call only moments after Emma bid Killian goodnight, a lightness to her steps as he watched her go. “Looks like that went well,” Granny called over as she wiped down the last table.

“Aye,” he tossed Granny a wink, “and she stayed for three games. And dessert.”

For the life of him, Killian couldn’t decipher Granny’s laugh at this simple observation until the double-entendre dawned on him at last. He was tired and perhaps he’d imbibed one too many glasses if he was the one missing the joke...it was then he noticed Emma’s jacket still laying across the barstool where she’d first dropped it.

“Seven hells,” he took off to the sound of Granny’s whooping call as she warned him the sheriff walked fast and he’d better work for it. Work for what exactly? Killian mused as he jogged out into the night, no easy feat in full leathers with more than a bit of drink in him. He spotted her golden hair in the lamplight down the street and called out, thinking it the better option than startling her.

She spun on her heel, wobbled slightly, and burst into laughter as she leaned against the lamppost for support--clearly he wasn’t the only to enjoy one too many this evening. Ever the gentleman, Killian held her jacket out and ignored her comment about being chased down Main Street by a pirate.

“Princess,” he began, calling far too loudly given the hour, “chivalry demands I return your cloak, lest you catch a chill on this dark night.” She shushed him less than successfully as she giggled and fell into step beside him-- Emma Swan can giggle, he mused. “As well,” he continued, voice full volume and bordering on a bellow, “I must see you safely to your door. No doubt there are ruffians about, and all manor of unsavory ne’er-do-wells, all seeking mischief against such an elegant,” he chuckled as she staggered slightly, “and graceful lady as thee.”

“You’re such an idiot, shut up! Do you want the whole neighborhood awake?” Her scolding was half-hearted at best considering her idea of a whisper could likely be heard across the street.

“Do you think they’ll call the sheriff, love” He waggled his eyebrows at her and she swatted his chest. “Surely you wouldn’t throw a man in the brig for an act of noblest courtesy,” at that he draped her jacket over her shoulders while she led the way and proceeded to spin a tale of his own unimpeachable valor as a young sailor. When they reached her dwelling, she turned to face him before heading up.

“Why do you always get it? Nobody gets it.” He raised a brow at her question. “Gets me. Like Neal,” she slurred the name and rolled her eyes. “I have a shitty day at work and he decides to make some weird pass at me through the kid ? But you,” she leaned in and poked Killian in the chest, keeping her index finger pressed against his sternum. “You’re the...the flirty pirate king and you just...throw sharp shit at a wall with me and buy me drinks. You didn’t even check out my ass more than once.”

He absolutely had, but far be it for Killian to correct the lady when this seemed to be going somewhere rather interesting.

“Can I tell you a secret?” she slurred.

Before he could suggest this was likely a bad idea as she would potentially regret whatever her next words were to be, she pulled him down by one of his coat lapels and whispered loudly, “My mom is Snow White, right? So she’s all about ‘true love’ and ‘happily ever after’,” her whisper became what he thought was an imitation of her mother, though he doubted that Snow White had ever been six whiskies and two rums deep.

“So she thinks that Neal is like...my Prince Charming, but here’s the secret: he’s not a prince! He’s a con-man, and he sure as hell isn’t charming. So whoops, Mom! Wrong bet!” She laughed and let go of his coat, poking the end of his nose and whispering something that sounded like the noise boop in the most infuriatingly impossible-to-understand gesture he’s witnessed yet. She gave him a glassy-eyed smile, and in a parting shot that left him speechless, she cupped his cheek and in a much softer tone murmured, “Goodnight, Killian.”

---

The morning arrived after less rest than he’d like, but Killian snapped awake as the sky first began to turn a dusty rose on the horizon. This was very likely the best mood he’d found himself in for quite some time, and he mused on the past twelve hours as he fiddled with the magic hot-water dispenser until he got the temperature just right. Unlike the Jolly , Granny’s provisions in terms of hygiene were lavish and he assumed they cost her a small fortune if Ruby and the guests enjoyed them as much as he did, but Granny assured him the soaps and amenities were provided, so he took great joy in letting the warm water run over him as he lathered up, breathing in the herbal and lemon scent so unlike the harsh lye soap he was accustomed to. This world without magic had its charms, and hot water on demand was his latest favorite.

He arrived downstairs for his other new-world favorite - coffee - and Killian was pleased to see Emma already at the counter, though she looked a great deal less chipper than he felt. “Good morning, Swan,” he sauntered up to take a seat at her left. “Beautiful morning, don’t you think?”

She grumbled something about a headache and before Killian could reply, Granny swooped in and all but insisted she sit and have breakfast. Despite her protests, Emma wound up delayed in her arrival to her post that morning as she was cajoled into a substantial pile of eggs, bacon, and toast. “Complain all you want, Sheriff,” Granny eyed her as she set a matching plate before Killian, “but you two need to soak up some of last night’s fun. Now, eat.” After obligingly refilling their mugs with steaming hot coffee, to which Emma added more than a bit of cream and sugar, Granny retreated to another table as the morning rush filled in around them.

They ate in companionable silence until Emma glanced over and opened with, “I beat you at darts, didn’t I?”

“Aye, two wins to my paltry one, Swan. I’m only grateful we chose not to wager more than dinner and drinks on the game, or my pockets would be a great deal more empty.” She smirked at his comment, and the two chatted as they worked through their breakfasts, both seeming to come alive as Granny had predicted.

He should have known it was all going far too well.

The bell above the door chimed, and the bustle of the patrons picking up coffee and pastries on their way to work or leisurely enjoying their breakfasts fell to a whisper. Killian stayed perfectly still as he heard the man limp toward the counter, the gentle thud of his cane giving him away. From the corner of his eye, he saw Emma roll her eyes at his clipped “Miss Swan,” and Killian stayed frozen to the spot, not trusting his reaction in front of the woman who not only was increasingly important in his life--a thought he’d sort out, or studiously avoid, later--but also represented the local law enforcement.

He heard few of the words exchanged between the Crocodile and Granny, though neither appeared pleased to be having the conversation. Instead, his pulse pounded in his head and his vision clouded as he clutched the edge of the counter. Killian had the distinct image of grabbing that gold-topped cane and flipping it, beating the man about the head until nothing recognizable remained. Until the gold handle dripped red. He could leave him on the floor of this place, twitching as the last impulses of his brain forced him to dance to a soundless tune; Killian could simply walk to the Jolly and set sail, free of the memory of this vile excuse for a man.

Except that he could do no such thing. He sat next to the sheriff in a small town diner surrounded by people who already distrusted him to varying degrees. He was trapped in a land that was not his own and had no way-- nor will --to return to his own. He was a captain without a crew, and as his mind raced through the numerous ways he could rid himself of this loathsome creature he knew now was not the time and certainly not the place. Simply put, Killian refused to put Emma in a position where she would be forced to see the darkness that lurked within him. So he let it pass, and let the Crocodile go for today.

It wasn’t long after the disruption that Emma took her leave, and Killian lingered at the counter as he mulled over what to do with his day. Most days he helped Granny with the more physically demanding repairs around the place, but he felt caged and in need of something more challenging.

“Appreciate you not taking his head off in my diner,” Granny remarked banally once the place emptied. “You have any idea what it takes to get blood out of white grout? Oh, don’t look so surprised; nothing smells quite like fear and rage rolled up in one, and I could smell yours from across the damn room.” She waved dismissively and filled two mugs, sliding one to him and keeping the other for herself. “It’s hot chocolate, and you need it. Little liquid comfort never hurt anyone, so drink up and tell me about it.”

He sipped hesitantly, but the woman was certainly right about the comforting power of the elixir before him. Killian thought about his next words as he breathed in the sweet steam from his mug, letting the cup warm his hand as he held it. “You could...smell my emotions?” He felt it best to begin with the obvious inquiry and prolong the tale of his darkest day.

“I could also hear your heart-rate skyrocket the second you knew who came through that door, so I’m guessing there’s some history there. You don’t have to tell me everything, Killian, but I need to know if I can trust you when you’re in here. Gold comes in to collect rent monthly, and every now and again he has lunch as well. I need to know you’re not going to take a kitchen knife to the bastard while I’m serving sandwiches.” She levelled a scrutinizing gaze at him and waited.

Killian set down his mug and scrubbed his hand over his face, realizing he was in need of a shave, then realizing he was further delaying the conversation. He sighed, knowing there was only one right way forward. “I will not spill his blood on your grounds, Granny, not unless he spills mine first. You have my word.” She nodded once, waiting for him to continue. And so he spent the sunny morning explaining how he lost his hand to the Dark One. While Killian left out much of the story of Milah, he could not entirely avoid her role in the tale, explaining simply that the man she knew as Gold had killed the woman Killian loved right in front of his eyes. Granny was sympathetic and asked few questions, letting him choose how much to reveal. It was cathartic, in a way - a chance to tell someone this piece of truth. A chance to be heard.

When they were finished, Granny spoke briefly of her wolfish nature, a truth which Killian enjoyed as it made her acute hearing and perceptiveness make far more sense. “I know your heart-rate also picks up around a certain sheriff,” she added as Killian slipped on his greatcoat, readying himself to find busywork on the Jolly . “And I know hers does around you.” She eyed him closely then, searching for he knew not what. “Be careful with her, Killian. I don’t know everything--I’m not sure anyone does--but I can see enough to know she’s been hurt, and that hurt hasn’t fully healed. In fact, I’m damn sure the source of it just waltzed back into her life.”

He nodded his understanding and left her to her work. Given the woman’s preternatural understanding of her patrons, he was not about to argue. He chewed her words over in his mind repeatedly as he spent the rest of the day checking that everything aboard his beloved Jolly was in tip-top shape. While his life may be constant chaos in this world, at least he could be assured his ship was as perfect as ever.

#cs au #captain swan #cs ff #csmm #killian jones #emma swan #captain swan au #karly tries her hand at writing

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scullydubois · 4 years ago

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Keys: a series of vignettes

Documenting all the times Mulder & Scully use a key to get into each other’s apartment.

read on Ao3 tagging: @today-in-fic (thank you <3)

Part 1 (Prologue): post-Squeeze

After Tooms, Mulder knew he had to broach the subject. He also knew, despite the limited time that Scully had graced his life thus far, that she wouldn’t react like Diana had. Scully would make it difficult. And he understood this--respected it, even--but it still had to be done. He had barged into her apartment one time too many.

Seeing Tooms nesting in his jail cell banishes any misgivings Mulder has left. Those yellow-green eyes and their inhuman desire to desecrate their victim, stealing away the purifying organ...and it had almost worked.

Mulder wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something happened to Scully on his watch. This is what he’s thinking when she brushes her hand down his bicep and leads him away from the immortal monster. He’s still thinking it as they exit the jail and he does the mental math and realizes that Scully will be 58 in thirty years and he can’t imagine any other fate for her than being the head of the Bureau, that wasn’t a joke.

“Scully?” He had known that name first through Vin Scully, who had been announcing Dodgers games for as long as he could remember. It slips off his tongue so naturally now.

“Yes?” She shifts her gaze toward him, and he’s taken aback. How can he focus on the task at hand when there are entire oceans in her eyes?

He knows that for this to be a success, he has to go the roundabout way. Does reverse psychology work on a doctor, he wonders? It’s worked on some psychologists he’s known.

He decides to find out. “I was just thinking, um, since it looks like we’re in it for the long haul…” Scully raises an eyebrow, her perpetual state of doubt coming to the surface. He presses on, a tenuous grip on his confidence. “Since we’re partners on the X-Files, I mean, since it looks like...that’s gonna keep continuing…” He feels like he’s back in high school asking Sloane Rivers to the senior prom. He hopes this has a happier ending.

He clears his throat. “What I’m trying to say is, I’d like to give you a key to my apartment so that...if you need to get in there ever...you can. Without breaking the door down,” he adds with an awkward chuckle.

Scully actually smiles at him. Sure, it’s tight-lipped like the kind a Southern lady might offer after saying ‘bless your heart,’ but still, it’s not the frown he expected.

“I doubt I’ll ever need to break your door down, Mulder.”

“Why not?” His voice goes high. He’s almost offended.

She purses her lips. Pouty Scully always forces Mulder to fight back a smile. He clamps his teeth down on his tongue. With her crossed arms and pout, she has the air of a little girl imitating her nagging mother. “Have you looked at yourself?” she asks.

“In the shower sometimes, yes,” Mulder deadpans.

There’s that eye-roll he’s come to expect. “How tall are you?” There’s exhaustion in her voice. She’s preemptively annoyed by his answer.

“Six feet. Six two if my loafers have a bit of a heel on them.”

“Uh-huh, and you’re a pretty strong guy, wouldn’t you say?”

“I could pick you up.” He lets the double entendre hang suggestively in the air.

She humors him with direct eye contact, nothing more. “Right. And you’ve put away dozens of violent offenders over the years, correct?”

Mulder nods, not sure where she’s going with this. He’s constantly intrigued by how she keeps him on his toes.

“And have you ever felt that one of them posed a physical threat to you if they were to be released?”

He slips his hands into his pockets. “No, I never really thought about it.”

“Exactly. I have to think about it. Before, during, and after a case.”

It figures that Scully would beat him to his own point. Mulder laughs. It only occurs to him how his laughter must look to her after he’s already done it.

“Mulder!” she screeches.

“I wasn’t laughing at what you said, I was laughing at what you did.”

“Gee, thanks, real comforting.”

“No, I mean, that’s the point I was trying to make--that you’re more susceptible to, urhm, bad things happening-- but I didn’t want to offend you.”

“Offend me? With the truth?”

“Yeah, I, um…” It occurs to him that he has miscalculated her, that she is not like any of the women he has ever known. His chest flutters, but his stomach sinks. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m sure you’re more aware of that than anyone else.”

Scully finds his earnest attempt at an unnecessary apology endearing, but she won’t show it. “Uh-huh,” she responds, staring out into the distance, checking her surroundings even now.

“I just don’t want you to feel like you have to go at it alone,” Mulder continues. “I’ll watch your back too, if you let me.”

Despite his sweetness, Scully can’t resist toying with him. “You’ve had a partner before, haven’t you?” she smirks. “That’s kind of how it’s supposed to work.”

Mulder clasps his hands behind his back. The corners of his mouth turn up into a bashful, apologetic smile. This is the routine he used to perform when his parents yelled at him. Who says you have to grow out of childhood habits?

“Well, I…” He’s not sure where he’s going with that sentence, and Scully knows this. She relishes in his embarrassment.

“I’m just teasing, it’s very kind of you to be concerned.” She pats his shoulder. Turns out, someone saving your life makes you quite touchy-feely. “I’ll have a key made this weekend,” she promises.

Figuring Scully out feels like navigating a room full of laser beams. He may have to crawl, jump, or twist himself into otherwise unnatural shapes to get through, but--somehow--he always makes it. Each time he’s convinced he’s done the impossible, yet he finds himself even more stoked to take on her next challenge. Scully is his endless puzzle, his X-File to end all X-Files. He wouldn’t want it any other way.

He slides his extra key off the chain, folds his fingers over it, and gently bumps his hand against Scully’s as they walk. She opens her fist, lets him place it in her palm, then curls her fingers around the metal. It’s still warm from his grasp.

“Thank you,” she murmurs. Her gratitude goes deeper than the key, Mulder understands this.

“You’re welcome,” he hums.

She is glad to have the key; he is glad she took it. She is glad he asked for her key; he is glad she will give him one. She is glad to be alive; he is glad that she lived. They have so many things to be thankful for.

#this was gonna be a one-shot but I couldn't get the key concept out of my head #so i suppose it will be a series #with chapters on the shorter end #thank you for reading as always <3 #I really really appreciate it #the x-files #txf #the x-files fanfic #fox mulder #dana scully #keys fic #mine

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demi-shoggoth · 4 years ago

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2021 Reading Log, pt 3

11. Murder-bears, Moonshine and Mayhem by Luke T. Harrington. What if Christian apologetic literature, but with jokes? If that sounds appealing, this is the book for you. It focuses on the more violent, sexually charged and just odd parts of scripture, putting them in context and helping to translate some of the double entendre that might go under the radar. Some of the jokes are intentionally hacky, and others are pretty clever. I quite like having fun with the Bible without making fun of the Bible. What’s less fun is how much time the author spends complaining about atheists, or attacking the roots of empiricism in philosophy, or how the last chapter suddenly gets very serious about the nature of evil. The author clearly did his homework, and there are ample footnotes to sources I’d be curious to check out. He might want to be a little more careful with those sources, though—one of them is the notorious pseudoscientist Graham Hancock.

12. The Atlas of Monsters by Sandra Lawrence and Stuart Hill. This was recommended to me by Amazon algorithms while I was looking for monster books. It’s a children’s book in the style of an old atlas. The inspiration seems to be pretty clearly Gravity Falls—there’s commentary by both the atlas’ putative author and editor throughout, along with a cipher for kids to solve. It’s a simple letter-substitution code, so rather easier than the Gravity Falls codes. Unfortunately, while puzzling out the cipher was fun, the messages hidden in it are all supremely generic—“beware”, “turn back while you can”, “this is your last warning” kind of stuff. I would have preferred something more interesting or original, or that wasn’t hinted at so explicitly in the text of the book. The monsters themselves come from a wide variety of sources and are truly global—regions like the Middle East, Russia and the Pacific Islands get a lot more attention in this book than most creature books for kids. There’s some stuff in here I hadn’t heard of, which is one of my main qualifiers for a monster book worth checking out.

13. Dungeons and Dragons Art and Arcana by Michael Witwer, Kyle Newman, Jon Peterson and Sam Witwer. This is a D&D victory lap, made to showcase art, advertising and ephemera from the 45+ (!) year history of D&D. It’s clearly a corporate puff piece, especially in the last chapter, which is all about how great and intuitive and brilliant 5th Edition is. But it’s a good corporate puff piece, and it at least acknowledges the mistakes and difficulties D&D has been through over the years. There’s definitely stuff in it that was new to me (like the advertising art from the 70s and 80s—Hi, Morley the Wizard!), and a lot that was pleasantly familiar as well. A warm bath of a book.

14. The Art of the English Murder by Lucy Worsley. This book is not quite fish or fowl. It is a history of murder in culture in England, from 1800 to 1950 or so. The book darts back and forth from actual crimes and their press coverage and popular impact to crime writers and the development of the detective novel. As the book progresses, it becomes more about detective writers, with chapters devoted to biographical sketches and armchair psychology. Part of the point the book is making is that the genteel murders of the authors no longer resembled much real crimes, but it still makes it feel somewhat unfocused and disjointed. The book is an adaptation of a documentary series for BBC, and it feels like a novelized TV show—it never comes quite together and feels a bit less than the sum of its parts.

15. A Cat’s Tale by “Baba the Cat, as dictated to Paul Koudonaris”. If I had to describe this book in one word, it would be “cute”. The framing device is that it is being told to us by a cat herself, narrating the story of her people and their interactions with humans. The best parts of this narrative are the stories of individual cats who we know from history, mostly ship’s cats. This is interspersed with photos of Baba herself, dressed in a wide variety of historical costumes. She must have the patience of a saint, and/or likes being fussed over, considering the intricacies of some of these costumes. An afterword discusses the author’s relationship with Baba in rather more realistic terms.

#reading log #D&D #cats #bible #monster book

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xaphrin · 4 years ago

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A Dragon’s Hoard

This is a part that doesn’t quite fit into the next part of the story, but I wanted to share it from Raven’s point of view. Thank you so much for putting up with me.

Raven felt Damian stir sometime in the middle of the night, long after he had passed out in the bed. She sat in a chair by the small fire in the hearth, quiet and still, and watched as the warm covers slid off his shoulders and down his bare chest - a chest that any sculptor would have loved to admire. Her hands paused on the page she had been reading as Damian lifted his body and stretched his arms above his head.

Of course, she certainly loved to admire it too.

When she had decided on taking him in and helping him heal, she hadn’t considered her own body’s reactions to him. Raven had simply thought that he was… fascinating. A curious creature that brought a ray of light into her long, lonely existence. He had been the first knight to apologize, even as she was ready to rip him apart, and he meant it. Damian did not want to be the reason for her demise, and he felt genuine remorse and regret at having to kill her. It gave her pause, and so, she did the unthinkable - she healed him. She took him in, claimed him as part of her hoard, and… now she let him become something more.

He pushed at his hair and swung his legs over to the side of the bed, moving towards the pitcher of water by the window. He washed his face and ran water through his hair before turning to look at her. Raven’s eyes followed him with rapt attention. He certainly was a sight to behold when he was wet.

Damian lifted his stare to her own and toweled off his hair. “I see you’re awake.”

“Mm…” Raven closed her book, and her fingertips rested on the leather of the cover, feeling as if she couldn’t quite part with it yet. “Did you know you snore in your sleep?” He didn’t, but that didn’t mean that Raven couldn’t tease him a little. She leaned forward and smiled. “I don’t know how you handle that racket you make.”

“I do not snore!” His eyes burned with fire for a moment before he realized she was teasing, and he leaned back on his heels watching her. “You’ve got a mouth on you, dragon.”

She smirked and leaned forward, watching as he stalked towards her. “So do you, knight.” The double-nature of her comment was not lost on him, and she watched as Damian arched an eyebrow.

As he rounded the bed, Raven’s eyes slid down the length of him to find his cock half-stiff and looking for attention. She’d be more than willing to give him any attention he wanted, if he asked it of her. Without realizing it, her tongue slipped out to wet her lower lip, suddenly feeling parched. If she had known how decadent the pleasures of the flesh were, Raven wouldn’t have waited centuries to find herself a mate. He stepped closer to her and let his own stare wander over her form, before settling on the book in her lap.

“Poetry?”

“Pastoral poetry.” She opened the book and thumbed through the pages. “All right fields ready for plowing and the bright, colorful beauty of an untouched flower.” Raven smirked and glanced up at him. “Rife with double entendres and metaphors for intercourse.”

Damian snorted, and he reached for the book in her hand. With no small amount of curiosity, Raven realized that for the first time in her life, she didn’t feel possessive over allowing someone else to touch her hoard. In fact, she wanted to share it with him. She wanted to give him anything he wanted, even if it was her most precious books. He glanced through the poetry and smirked at her, looking almost playful.

“This is filthy.”

“Practically raunchy.” She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees, watching him. “I believe the dripping honeycomb and the sweetness of the golden treasure might be the filthiest thing I’ve ever read.”

Damian found the page and snorted. “Licking it from his fingers? Drenching the sweetest of treats? I do believe you’re right.” He glanced back into her face, his eyes darkening as he tried to read her. “Could you not sleep?”

“The storm woke me up.” She didn’t know how to tell him that the noise reminded her of the terror her father had left echoing inside her, and so she stayed silent. She should tell him the truth about herself and the history with her father, but… right now she liked living in this fantasy. She wasn’t ready to destroy the delicate connection she had made with him.

“Mm.” He closed the book and set it on the table next to her, his gaze searching her face for a long, quiet moment. “Would you like me to distract you?”

A sudden, violent heat slipped down her spine and pooled in the pit of her stomach, and images of just a few hours earlier filled her vision. She was sore from earlier, but that didn’t stop her from wanting. Her heart skipped beats and she swallowed, watching as he took a step towards her. Damian held out his hand and Raven slid her palm along his, feeling magic and electricity spark between them.

This was her mate.

Her only mate.

She was going to enjoy every second she had left with him.

Damian pulled her to her feet and his mouth found hers, hot and desperate. Raven pushed herself up on her toes and met him kiss-for-kiss, feeling like every stroke of his tongue or bite of his teeth was stealing a little bit more of her resolve. Her fingers curled into his short hair and she pulled him tight against her, reveling in the feeling of his cock growing between them. She pushed her hips against his, and tasted the rich flavor of his groan.

Seven hells. He was delicious.

Damian’s fingers buried into the intricate braid coiled around her head, and he started pulling the pins free, letting them fall to the floor with a soft tink. His free hand cupped a breast, fingers teasing her nipple into a tight peak, tugging and pulling at her. Electricity shot straight between her legs, and she gasped between their kisses, shuddering. He smirked at her, as if he had won a battle they weren’t even fighting, and he dropped his mouth to her other breast, his tongue curling around her nipple.

“Knight.”

“Mm.” He lapped at her nipple and then sucked hard. Hard enough to leave a mark, but Raven didn’t care, she was resolved to wear any of his marks with pride.

She was writhing now, her hands finding his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. Damian pulled back, nipping at her breast as he slid a hand between her legs to find her clit. He rubbed tight circles over her, and Raven felt her whole body twitch with every pass of his fingers. Within moments, her head fell back against her shoulders as heat burned like fire just under her belly button. Her breath was short, and her hands tightened on his shoulders as a mumbled plea fell from her lips.

“Please. I need…” She knew what she needed, but she was a babbling mess already, unable to articulate it. Her hips pushed up against his hand, and Damian slipped three fingers inside her, stretching her wide and filling her. Raven tipped forward, sagging against him as she raced towards her orgasm, her breath short and desperate.

He kissed up the curve of her breast to her neck and hummed, the vibration feathering over her skin. “Hm… a field drenched with summer’s rain.”

Raven’s eyes snapped open and she looked up to see him laughing at her. Her face fell. “Knight.” She pushed at his shoulders, and he took a half-step back as he tried to regain his footing. Raven snorted, feeling smoke billow out of her nose. “Now is not the time to quote poetry to me.”

“Ah…” Smirking, he slipped his fingers from her body, and raised his fingertips to his lips. He licked his fingers, looking far too full of himself. “I believe this is the perfect time to quote poetry to you.”

Raven pushed at his shoulders again, and he fell back against the bed, his hands tight on her hips as he dragged her down with him. She fell against his chest, his erection pressing hard against her lower belly in a promise of what was to come. She writhed against him, pushing herself up on her knees, resting on either side of his hips. Damian bit the inside of his cheek, trying to keep himself from moaning, but Raven could taste it on his skin. He was just as far gone as she was, and there was a part of her that reveled in that.

She lifted herself up on her knees and leaned over him, but Damian just chuckled up at her, his fingers reaching up to untangle the locks of hair in her braid. He let her hair curl over her shoulders, threading it between his fingers. A moment passed, and he nipped at her lower lip. His pupils were blown wide, and his fingers tightened on her hips.

“What would you like me to say, dragon? What kind of poetry should I be reciting to you?”

“The only poetry I want to hear right now-” Raven paused as she sunk herself down on his sizable cock, her whole body quaking with the movement. She felt deliciously full, like she was going to burst at any moment. Her fingers bit into his chest and she swallowed another breath, hoping she looked unaffected. “-is your moaning voice as I ride you, my knight.”

He pushed himself up, his fingers tightening in her hair, and pushed his hips up into her own with force. Raven cried out and tipped forward, her clit dragging along his body with the movement. It was too much. Far too much. And she felt the beginnings of an orgasm burn through her skin. Damian pulled at her hair, crushing his mouth to her own as her hips moved frantically against his, feeling his erection pulse inside her as she shook against him. Her teeth sunk into his lower lip and she moaned, shaking and shivering until she was able to pull away.

“Damian…” Raven sagged against him, feeling boneless as her orgasm still simmered in the pit of her stomach, like embers in a cooling fire.

“Ah, dragon.” His hands tightened on her hips and he slammed his hips up into hers again. Raven let go of a short scream, and her eyes shot open as she stared at him. He growled low in his throat, and pushed up into her again. “I believe you said you were going to ride me.”

Raven’s hands rested on his chest, and she pitched forward, lifting herself up a few inches before she pushed herself back down. Oh. Oh, hells. This felt… different. So much different. Before, Raven had been laid out like a sacrifice for him, her pleasure completely in his hands. While Damian he knew exactly how to play her like a well-tuned instrument, and break her apart, now… she was in control. And, judging by the crease in his brow and the soft groan on his lips, he didn’t seem to mind at all.

His head tipped back on the bed, and he arched up to meet each one of her frantic thrusts. Raven felt wild, like the beast inside her was threatening to break free and claim him all over again. He was beautiful, her mark on his shoulder lighting up in the thin light in the room, his mouth open, his breaths low and rough. She could watch him like this forever, a mess beneath her. Damian slipped a hand between them, rubbing his thumb over her clit. She twitched, her movements stuttering.

“Knight…”

He dug his heels into the bed and pushed harder into her. “Dragon. I can feel you…” His lips caught hers again in another slow kiss, his thumb still tight on her clit. “If you’re going to fall… then fall.”

Raven pulled back from his kiss, her movements still frantic as she tried to swallow another breath. Her mind was fraying, her body felt like it wasn’t her own, but she wanted. She wanted everything she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to have. Her nails bit into his chest and she slammed harder into him. “I will fall when you do.”

“Then make me come.”

Oh, seven hells.

He bit at her neck, likely leaving a mark, and Raven lost control of her own body. She was something else entirely, flying through the sky as pleasure drowned her. Light exploded around her, and Her whole body was lit up like the fireworks she had seen in the south. Damian sealed his mouth to hers again, swallowing her moans and letting himself fall with her. His cock twitched and he shook, his movements shaky as he came with her. The world didn’t exist outside this moment, and that was fine with her.

Raven collapsed on his chest, their breaths mingling with their sweat. Silence stretched between them, broken only by a curse or a groan, and she finally lifted her eyes to meet his. Damian was staring at the ceiling, his fingers running up and down her spine. He caught her stare and his lips twitched.

“I would not have imagined that would be the response from pastoral poetry.”

Raven chuckled and buried her face into his chest, trying to hide her practically giddy smile. “Field ripe for plowing.”

Damian snorted.

#damirae #demonbirds #dragon-shifter au #because these are things #that I just wanted to do

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bellamyblakru · 4 years ago

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tangled (2010) thoughts that i cant help but ponder after the 10000000th time i’ve watched:

why didn’t mother gothel change rapunzel’s birthday?

did mother gothel ever truly love rapunzel for who she was or only what she represented?

if mother gothel let rapunzel go out into the world with her instead of saying no, she probably would have had a better chance at controlling her. take away her freedom, violently and condescendingly, of course she would run away at first chance with someone who gave her an opportunity to go..

how did rapunzel not have crippling anxiety and trauma from the years of manipulation?

i didn’t catch the double entendre of eugene’s “the only thing I want to do with your hair, is to get out of it. Literally!” until recently🤦🏼‍♀️

when mother gothel first realized rapunzel might be gone because of the palace horse, do you think she was at all afraid rapunzel would be hurt and taken, or do you think she was just consumed with the fear of never being able to use rapunzel again?

is it agreed upon that rapunzel’s magic is innate and that the easiest way for it to manifest was through her hair—but, like our boy merlin, she is magic, so even without her hair, her magic should be a natural, accessible part of her?

and “somebody get me a glass because i just found a tall drink of water” ?? what even is that LOL it makes me laugh every time i hear it

dude, when that dam broke, how did everyone survive??? also, the stark contrast between “my real name is eugene fitzherbert” and “i have magic hair that glows when i sing” is incredible. comedy gold.

WHERE TF DID SHE HIDE THE CROWN-SATCHEL WHEN MOTHER GOTHEL GAVE IT TO HER DURING THE CAMPFIRE??

i would sob if someone looked at me the way eugene looked at her during the lights.

every song in this movie fucking SLAPS. i know all the words😏

what is the age of consent in this world? i mean, it’s probably okay since she was 18 when they finally kiss but my king is like 26 or something right? 🤷🏼‍♀️ im sure its fine.

dude, when eugene gets stabbed, i legit feel pain every time. when i first watched it i thought “true love” would save him, but the tear being the magic to save him just proves the entire “she doesn’t need the hair” idea to cast.

rapunzel and merlin have so many similarities sigh born with magic, good with animals and nature, and in love with an idiot who we all love.

how the fuck did her parents prove rapunzel was their kid? did they have dna test? she was blonde when she was born, obviously bc of the flower magic, and here comes rapunzel with short brown hair. did they just take her word for it since the past ✨showed itself to her✨?

i cant believe the parents do not say one word the entire fucking movie. buck wild.

okay sorry im done, i love this movie so much. it’s literally my nighttime song🥺but i had to get these thoughts OUT.

#ashley rambles #tangled #tangled meta #IS THAT A TAG LMFAOO #do people think this much for a fucking animated movie from 2010?.😂😩#pls ignore me i needed to get this out of my head #now you all are seeing how i think😔#why do i have these thoughts #ashley watches #ig LOL #i swear im going to bed now bye

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theculturedmarxist · 4 years ago

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As demonstrations against police brutality and abuse of Black Americans spread across Boston on the night of May 31 and early morning of June 1, the city’s police department was out in force.

Many officers wore body cameras. During the unrest, the cameras recorded hours of footage that the department subsequently stored.

That footage was given to attorney Carl Williams, who is representing some protesters arrested that night, as part of a discovery file encompassing 44 videos and over 66 hours of footage. Williams assembled a team of volunteer lawyers and law students to pore over the videos to find exculpatory evidence for his clients. What they found, however, was something more.

The hours of video, given exclusively to The Appeal by Williams, show police officers bragging about attacking protesters, targeting nonviolent demonstrators for violence and possible arrest, discussing arrest quotas and the use of cars as weapons, and multiple instances of excessive force and liberal use of pepper spray.

“It’s this mob mentality,” Williams said of the police behavior. “And I use ‘mob’ as a sort of a double entendre—mob like the mafia and mob like a group of a pack of wild people roaming the streets looking to attack people.”

The Appeal shared sections of the footage with Suffolk County District Attorney Rachael Rollins, who said that in her view, police behavior in the videos is indicative of the very issues that demonstrators were marching to bring attention to.

“I have not watched the entire video, but the snippets that I have seen are incredibly troubling,” said Rollins, adding that she has sent the clips to her special prosecution team.

The Boston Police Department has opened an investigation into the revelations in the videos, Sergeant Detective John Boyle told The Appeal. Citing the investigation, Boyle declined further comment.

The May 31 Boston demonstration, part of a nationwide movement that was sparked by the police killing of George Floyd in Minneapolis on May 25, officially wrapped up around 9 p.m., Black Boston co-founder Toiell Washington told The Appeal. Washington said that her group was one of the main organizers of the event and made a conscious choice not to work with police because of the nature of the protest.

“We didn’t work with any city officials and we definitely didn’t work with the police,” said Washington. “We didn’t have that conversation with them.”

To Black Boston, working with the department on a protest against police brutality would have been hypocritical and counterproductive. The group did not encounter any resistance from police during the march and demonstration, Washington said, but that changed as the night wore on.

“As soon as it got dark, they started things,” Washington said of the police. “I have many friends that were attacked, and they did nothing to provoke anyone.”

Washington said that police turned the city into a “war zone,” barricading protesters and passersby alike and causing destruction and terror.

Activist Yaritza Dudley and other people The Appeal spoke to backed up that version of events. Dudley, who is Black Boston’s director of events, was not officially involved with the group at the time. She told The Appeal that she and her friends endured a harrowing escape from downtown Boston as police attacked them and everyone around them with tear gas, pepper spray, and physical violence. That behavior wasn’t surprising to the young activist—but it was a major moment nonetheless.

“It just goes to show that Boston is no different, is no better than any other city that you see with open attacks and police brutality,” said Dudley.

Lauren Pespisa, a Boston activist, told The Appeal she remembered seeing “more cops that night than any other, except shortly after when the National Guard came out.”

“The daytime march was extremely peaceful and the cops held back, then once the sun went down there was a lot of tear gas and police cars driving haphazardly into crowded streets,” said Pespisa. “They shut down the MBTA and had battalions of riot cops around every corner gassing us.”

“Start spraying the fuckers,” says one officer, wearing camera X81416368, at 1:21 a.m. UTC on June 1. (Times are set for UTC on the cameras referred to in this story—five hours ahead of Eastern time.)

Over and over in the videos, police officers are seen deploying plumes of pepper spray at demonstrators, often without warning or provocation. Crowds of protesters with their hands raised are regularly attacked and sprayed by officers on bikes and on foot. At times, demonstrators are rushed by surprise by officers spraying at will.

In one clip, when a man with a gray beard approaches a crowd of officers with his hands raised, an officer to his right sprays him with pepper spray from close range directly in the eyes. In another, a woman with blue hair is surrounded by officers and sprayed in the face at close range by one officer.

Rollins called the liberal use of pepper spray on display in the videos “disturbing” and said her team was looking into it. She added that she hoped the woman with blue hair had filed a complaint.

The officers appear enthusiastic about using the chemical weapon and unconcerned with whether to arrest demonstrators. In one clip, timed at 1:52 a.m., officers advancing on a crowd are pushing one young man standing with his hands raised.

“We gotta start spraying more,” the officer wearing camera X81417350 says.

“You out?” he asks another police officer offscreen, holding up a can of pepper spray. “I got a little left.”

“I want to hit this asshole,” he says, gesturing toward the young man being pushed back. “I’ve used two of these already—I’ve got a little left, I want to hit this kid.”

Williams cited those comments in particular as indicative of the attitude police in Boston take toward demonstrators and the community.

“This is not law enforcement,” he said. “That’s not what they’re doing right there in the streets, ganging up on people using weaponry.”

“And they’re enjoying it,” he added.

Officers assaulted demonstrators in various ways throughout the evening, often without any clear sense of purpose or reason. Using batons to compel crowds back, officers with cameras are seen pushing down people trying to get out of the way and comply with commands.

One officer, wearing camera X81329588, rushes a person on a moped who is trying to comply and clear the area. The officer charges him, shoving him off of the vehicle, for no discernible reason and with no provocation. The attack came at 2:08 a.m.

In another clip, outside Boston Common at 2:44 a.m., the same officer charges a young Black woman holding her hands up and shoves her violently to the ground with a baton. The officer says nothing when he does this and does not arrest her.

In the aftermath of the attack, the officer and his cohort push back other demonstrators expressing concern for the victim, who they say is still lying on the ground. The officers do not respond, instead marching forward with batons pushing demonstrators out of the way.

Marchers were exercising their First Amendment rights, Rollins said, and for the police to attack them with such ferocity is disturbing. Police behavior should be held to a higher standard, she added, and protesters expressing anger at officers is no excuse for violence.

“These are people exercising a constitutional right to be out,” said Rollins. “And there is no requirement that they be pleasant or silent when they are out.”

Those not wearing cameras are also seen assaulting demonstrators. One police officer, wearing a fluorescent jacket, looks back at camera X81417350 and then hits a young man in the stomach. The victim of the attack had been complying, walking backward with his hands up in front of his attacker.

The officers also appear to target certain demonstrators for violence. In one clip from 1:26 a.m. near the Common, a group of officers on bikes react strongly when a demonstrator kicks a tear gas canister back at them.

“Let’s get this fucker,” says the officer behind camera X8141668. “Let’s get him, lock him up.”

Although most of the abuse on camera happens without arrests, there are some instances of demonstrators being taken into custody. One video suggests that the reason for this was to meet arrest quotas.

At 4:52 a.m., the officer behind camera X8142975 gathers with other police officers, including a sergeant, at a rendezvous point. The conversation between the officer and the sergeant is revealing for what it implies about arrest quotas—a policy that has caused controversy in Massachusetts in the past, particularly around State Police ticket quotas.

“How many ya got?” asks the officer as the cameraman exits his vehicle.

“Just one, female,” he replies, lifting his hand.

The sergeant, after an unintelligible exchange, declares, “then we’re done” as he walks over to the vehicle. “That’s 10.”

The officers then realize the number is only nine, but the superior officer appears to think that number is satisfactory.

“I mean, theoretically, we could take one more,” he says, appearing to dismiss the idea.

Officers repeatedly appear to not realize they are being recorded.

In one instance, a commanding officer approaches the man behind camera X81413955 and hands him a necktie with a price tag still on it, presumably from a store looted during the unrest.

“It’s pretty nice,” replies the cameraman, adding that it’s a “$50 tie.”

The commanding officer quickly leaves the area, turning his back on the camera. Meanwhile, the officer with the camera appears to pocket the item. The Boston Police Department did not provide a case number, evidence log, or any information about the tie.

In another clip, a sergeant approaches the officer behind camera X81331058 and begins telling him about using a police vehicle to attack demonstrators.

“Dude, dude, dude, I fuckin’ drove down Tremont—there was an unmarked state police cruiser they were all gathered around,” says the sergeant, laughing.

“So then I had a fucker keep coming, fucking running,” he continues. “I’m fucking hitting people with the car, did you hear me, I was like, ‘get the fuck—'”

At this point the officer behind the camera pushes the sergeant’s head away and walks off in the other direction. He comes back a few seconds later, saying, “it’s on,” about the camera.

The sergeant quickly changes his story.

“Oh, no no no no no, what I’m saying is, though, that they were in front, like, I didn’t hit anybody, like, just driving, that’s all,” he says. “My windows were closed, the shit was coming in.”

The officer then apologizes.

“This thing just fucking went on automatically,” he says.

The comments about the car indicate a callousness on the part of the officer—regardless of whether he actually did it—considering the use of cars as weapons in recent years, Rollins said. She singled out a car attack at the Charlottesville, Virginia, counterprotests to the white supremacist Unite the Right rally in 2017 that killed left-wing activist Heather Heyer as an example of what vehicles can do when used in that way. Hearing a police officer laugh about it, she said, was not a good feeling.

“This individual appears to be taking pleasure in the fact that this happened or is gloating,” said Rollins. “I’m a member of law enforcement now as an elected district attorney, and I’m not proud of that when I see that. And I want to be proud of the behavior that we see with law enforcement moving forward.”

Not all officers are comfortable with the department’s approach to dealing with demonstrators. Criticism pops up at 3:38 a.m. from the officer wearing camera X81329486 as he and other officers take stock of the night.

“You know what was fucked up?” he says. “We’re pushing the one way, someone’s pushing them the other way.”

“There was no plan,” he says.

Another officer, wearing camera X8145069, says at 2:21 a.m. that the city is in an “absolute war.”

“This is insane,” he says, adding, “I didn’t think Boston would be that bad.”

To Washington of Black Boston, the police behavior shows the ineffectiveness of armchair commentary on how people of color “should” or “shouldn’t” protest police violence. Civil disobedience doesn’t come with an instruction manual—people can protest how they want—and to suggest that the reaction is inappropriate without applying empathy to the plight of the victims of the situation is the opposite of solidarity.

“They cannot tell us how to channel our emotions during situations like this,” said Washington.

Today, Washington and Black Boston are concentrating on continuing their efforts to ensure that the way things are done in Boston and around the country with respect to Black and brown people are changed for the better. The old way isn’t working, Washington said, and solidarity depends on unlearning the paradigms of the past.

A similar conversation is taking place nationally. Leaders in Washington and around the country are debating the ramifications of the acts of police violence that led to the new civil rights movement that erupted over the summer.

A number of local, state, and federal leaders in Massachusetts have been outspoken in their support for the movement. On Wednesday, the Boston City Council voted 8-5 to restrict the use of tear gas, pepper spray, and rubber bullets against demonstrators—a measure with roots in the protests in late May and early June.

Representative Ayanna Pressley, whose district encompasses three-quarters of the city of Boston, has been an indefatigable voice in Congress favor of police reforms. The Appeal showed her office portions of the above videos, particularly the ones focused on use of pepper spray and physical violence.

“The inexcusable actions of officers in these disturbing videos make painfully clear why our communities are standing up, speaking out and demanding decisive action to combat the public health crisis that is police brutality in our nation,” Pressley said in a statement. “We can and must advance bold and systemic policy change at all levels of government to bring an end to the toxic culture of police impunity that has fueled these abuses and begin to legislate true justice and healing for our communities.”

The ACLU of Massachusetts has been trying to obtain the videos from that night and other nights of protest since June. The Appeal shared a compilation of clips from the file with the organization before the publication of this article.

“We have seen a compilation of BPD body cam footage dated from June 1; if accurate, the footage raises concerns about excessive force,” Ruth Bourquin, ACLU of Massachusetts’s senior and managing attorney, said in a statement. “We are grateful that the body camera footage brought these incidents to light. We note that BPD has failed to produce these body cam recordings to the ACLU, in spite of a request from the summer that is the subject of pending public records litigation.”

Bourquin added that the behavior of the officers in the videos is antithetical to the principle of free assembly and the right of people to go out in the streets to demand justice. That right should not be infringed, she said.

For her part, Rollins promised change is coming. She issued an appeal to Bostonians that they trust her with information about the police.

“I want people to feel comfortable sending that information to me,” Rollins said. “I want people to feel comfortable enough filing a complaint with the Boston Police Department if that is the entity that engaged in, you know, problematic at best, criminal at worst behavior,. And if they don’t feel comfortable, I want them to file it with me or one of their Boston city councilors to get it to my attention. And we will review everything.”

#ACAB #kill all cops #blue lives matter #blue lives murder #blue lives don't matter #boston police department #repression #police state #polizei

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