#bob the butler is the spy

[simvanie]

10 quest points if you can guess which the sims 4 household these characters are based on

[ryminsteddiesashanne]

✨️INTRO POST✨️

I am Ryminsteddiesashanne

If you want to refer to me as a name, use Kazu (not my real name) or Lc (initials)

My age is a mystery (to you)

My pronouns are they/them

I am trans

I am Aroace and Omnisexual

I have ADD, Autism, and Misophonia

Dni if - Transphobe, pedo, homophobe, proshipper, furry hater, etc

Some of my favorite characters include:

Full Fandom list:

✨️UPPERCASE ✨️ IF CURRENT OBSESSION

She ra, Camp Cretaceous, Amphibia, The Owl House, Bobs Burgers, Infinity Train, The Simpsons, The Amazing World of Gumball, Helluva boss, Heathcliff and The Cadillac Cats, Moomin, South Park, Doug, The Brak Show, Aqua teen hunger force, Dr.Katz, Regular Show, Star vs the Forces of Evil, The Amazing Digital Circus, Hazbin Hotel, Tangled the Series, ✨️DUCKTALES✨️, Over The Garden Wall, Gravity falls, Rock Paper Scissors, Miraculous

✨️OURAN HIGH SCHOOL HOST CLUB✨️, Spy x Family, Devil's Candy, Pokemon indigo league and black and white, The Disastrous Life of Saiki K, Black Butler, Chainsaw Man, Sasaki and Miyano, ✨️DEATH NOTE ✨️

Criminal minds, Heartstopper, The Office, Parcs and Rec, Stranger Things, ✨️9-1-1 on ABC✨️, Community, Modern Family, Arested Development, ✨️ SQUID GAME ✨️, Friends, Saved by the Bell, ✨️TWIN PEAKS ✨️

Scream, The Twilight saga, It, The Turning, Baseketball, The Outsiders, The Gay Deceivers, Little shop of horrors, Rush Hour, Scott Pilgrim vs The World, Killer Book Club, ✨️TROLLS BAND TOGETHER✨️, Deadpool and Wolverine,

MISC

Collectibles

Ever After High, Monster High, Rainbow High, Sanrio, Pokemon TCG, Kpop

Webtoon

Lore Olympus, Faroff, Mundane Escape

Games

FNAF,✨️ OBEY ME✨️, Twisted Wonderland, The Coffin of Andy and Leyley, Dead Plate, Elevator Hitch, Eloquent Countenance, Cold Front, That's Not My Neighbor, Married in Red, The Stanley Parable, Rot in Paradise

Web Series

Welcome Home, ✨️ALIEN STAGE ✨️, Phychocuties ( i do not support the creator)

OCs

I have ocs with a plot line I'm working on

It's called "Some People Wear Red !" or spwr

Link to my oc taglist (sorry idk how to make it smaller)

[bobbie-robron]

Classic ED schedule, week 11 (2025)

1:40 PM 10-Mar: 13-Oct-2006 (4491), 15-Oct-2006 Emily Kirk returns! (4492)

1) Edna refuses to attend her granddaughter’s blessing. Jack tries to solve the mystery of Vic’s boyfriend. 2) Having snuck out of the house to Wylie’s, Vic thinks she’s seen a ghost in the window and runs off. Tom and Rosemary are surprised to learn Peter is Edna’s son… Edna runs off when their questions disturb her.

1:40 PM 11-Mar: 16-Oct-2006 (4493), 17-Oct-2006 (4494)

1) Drama around Peter and Edna continues culminating on them uneasily reconciling. Vic drags Daz to Wylie’s to find the ghost and notice smoke coming from the chimney. 2) Laurel agrees to an interview with the Hotten Courier with Ashley away which Steph regrets encourages her to do. Laurel thinks Emily is at Wylie’s so questions Vic and Daz.

1:40 PM 12-Mar: 18-Oct-2006 Ethen Blake returns! (4495), 19-Oct-2006 (4496)

1) Donna is powerless as thugs raid the Woolie and badly injure Marlon. Laurel is stunned Ethan is back with new of Emily. Jean tells Terry she’s jealous of Louise. 2) It’s gastro night at the B&B where Jean is riled/insecure by Louise’s flirtatious style and Terry eyeing her up. Emily sneaks into Butlers to return Sarah’s blanket but will she get caught as the baby starts crying?

1:40 PM 13-Mar: 20-Oct-2006 Goodbye Ethan Blake! (4497), 24-Oct-2006 1 hour episode! (4498/4499)

1) The Post Office is robbed as Viv and Kelly are taken hostage but the culprit, Eli, frames two goons who are arrested. Ashley (with Jasmine) is not happy to see Ethan back and demands answers 2) The aftermath of the robbery has Viv bringing back memories of Vic’s death. Laurel’s concerned about Emily’s closeness to Sarah… Emily decides to leave the village.

1:40 PM 14-Mar: 25-Oct-2006 (4500), 26-Oct-2006 (4501)

1) Emily considers suicide by weighing herself down in the lake but it saved by Sam. Viv has a hard time settling back into work so Bob and Jamie try to get her to relax. Eric’s unnerved that Steph has a strong case for her share of the business. 2) Viv and friends hurling eggs at a window causes Viv to hyperventilate and collapse putting both at risk. Lisa and Zak are appalled when Sam brings Emily to theirs. Val offers Paul a huge wage to spy on Steph at the factory.

[pitohuimaki]

this one's really got it all you guys

"bless this nest" corny wall decoration. a skeleton butler holding condoms (unopened). fuzzy pink handcuffs on the bedframe (i edited those too like i put attention to DETAIL into this thing). pickle rick. squishmellows on the bed. asuna holding both a vibrator and a small, secret where's wally. the goddamn hat from sao abridged. asuna's rickrolling him. he's in cat ear headphones and a dog collar. nob mulaney, from the netflix live action. hatsune miku poster haphazardly taped to the wall. live laugh love sign, to match the bless this nest. ball gag, bisexual pride dildo, antidepressants and a lava lamp - all commonly found within close range of each other, obviously. dan and phil holding a pride flag (no but seriously imagine it)

not to mention the window. we've got mark zuckerburg spying on them. we've got lisbeth spying on them. we've got jesus judging them. there's a horse. you know i had to do it to em. santa flying past to take them both off the nice list. angry bob katter giving them 50 dollarydoos. do not ask what he's paying them for.

just had the joy of finding this image again while trying to clear space so now i'm subjecting my new followers to it

[awellboiledicicle]

ARK: The Animated Series chronicles the story of a mysterious primeval land populated by dinosaurs and other extinct creatures, where people from throughout human history have been resurrected. When 21st century Australian paleontologist Helena Walker awakes on the ARK after tragedy, she must learn to survive and find new allies, or die again at the hands of ruthless warlords -- all while trying to uncover the true nature of their strange new world.

Voice talent and character descriptions, in alphabetical order: ● Gerard Butler plays General Gaius Marcellus Nerva, a brutal ancient Roman despot. ● Devery Jacobs plays Alasie, a peppy 17th century Inuit teenager, now finding her place on the ARK. ● Cissy Jones plays The Gladiatrix, a formidable commander in Nerva's army. ● Madeleine Madden plays 21st century Australian paleontologist Helena Walker, newly awoken on the ARK. ● Deborah Mailman plays Deborah Walker, a 21st century Aboriginal Australian activist, and mother to Helena Walker. ● Zahn McClarnon plays Thunder Comes Charging, a 19th century Lakota warrior who leads a thriving community on the ARK. ● Malcolm McDowell plays Senator Lucius Cassius Virilis, a manipulative aristocrat during the reign of Caesar Augustus. ● Juliet Mills plays Chava, a wise healer and village councilmember. ● Elliot Page plays Victoria Walker, an idealistic humanitarian aid worker, and wife of Helena Walker. ● Ragga Ragnars plays Queen Sigrid, a bellicose 10th century Viking warlord. ● David Tennant plays Sir Edmund Rockwell, an egocentric 19th century scientist harboring dark ambitions. ● Alan Tudyk plays The Captain, a crusty buccaneer who profitably sails the dangerous waters around the ARK. ● Karl Urban plays Bob, a recent square-jawed ARK arrival. ● Jeffrey Wright plays Henry Townsend, an 18th century American watchmaker and Patriot spy. ● Michelle Yeoh plays Meiyin Li, a 3rd century Chinese rebel leader, known on the ARK by her reputation as the formidable “Beast Queen.” ● Ron Yuan plays Han Li, a 3rd century Chinese rebel leader and brother to Meiyin. ● With Russell Crowe playing Kor the Prophet, an eccentric ‘dino-whisperer’ hailing from a time before recorded history. ● And Vin Diesel playing 24th century ‘Mek’-pilot, gearhead, & freedom-fighter Santiago.

[tomorrowedblog]

Friday Releases for September 17

Friday is the busiest day of the week for new releases, so we've decided to collect them all in one place. Friday Releases for September 17 include Prisoners Of The Ghostland, Deltarune Chapter 2, Montero, and more.

Prisoners Of The Ghostland

Prisoners Of The Ghostland, the new movie from Sion Sono, is out today.

In the treacherous frontier city of Samurai Town, a ruthless bank robber is sprung from jail by a wealthy warlord, The Governor, whose adopted granddaughter has run away. Strapped into a leather suit that will self-destruct within five days if he doesn’t find the missing girl, the bandit sets off on a journey to find the young woman — and his own path to redemption.

The Nowhere Inn

The Nowhere Inn, the new movie from Bill Benz, is out today.

From real-life friends Annie Clark (a.k.a. GRAMMY award-winning recording and touring artist St. Vincent) and Carrie Brownstein (Portlandia, Sleater-Kinney) comes the metafictional account of two creative forces banding together to make a documentary about St. Vincent’s music, touring life, and on-stage persona. But they quickly discover unpredictable forces lurking within subject and filmmaker that threaten to derail the friendship, the project, and the duo’s creative lives.

The Eyes Of Tammy Faye

The Eyes Of Tammy Faye, the new movie from Michael Showalter, is out today.

THE EYES OF TAMMY FAYE is an intimate look at the extraordinary rise, fall and redemption of televangelist Tammy Faye Bakker. In the 1970s and 80s, Tammy Faye and her husband, Jim Bakker, rose from humble beginnings to create the world’s largest religious broadcasting network and theme park, and were revered for their message of love, acceptance and prosperity. Tammy Faye was legendary for her indelible eyelashes, her idiosyncratic singing, and her eagerness to embrace people from all walks of life. However, it wasn’t long before financial improprieties, scheming rivals, and scandal toppled their carefully constructed empire.

Blue Bayou

Blue Bayou, the new movie from Justin Chon, is out today.

Blue Bayou is the moving and timely story of a uniquely American family fighting for their future. Antonio LeBlanc (Chon), a Korean adoptee raised in a small town in the Louisiana bayou, is married to the love of his life Kathy (Alicia Vikander) and step-dad to their beloved daughter Jessie. Struggling to make a better life for his family, he must confront the ghosts of his past when he discovers that he could be deported from the only country he has ever called home.

Copshop

Copshop, the new movie from Joe Carnahan, is out today.

Screaming through the Nevada desert in a bullet-ridden Crown Vic, wily con artist Teddy Murretto (Frank Grillo) hatches a desperate plan to hide out from lethal hitman Bob Viddick (Gerard Butler): He sucker-punches rookie officer Valerie Young (Alexis Louder) to get himself arrested and locked up in a small-town police station. But jail can’t protect Murretto for long. Viddick schemes his own way into detention, biding his time in a nearby cell until he can complete his mission. When the arrival of a competing assassin (Toby Huss) ignites all-out mayhem, mounting threats force Viddick to get creative if he wants to finish the job and escape the explosive situation.

Cry Macho

Cry Macho, the new movie from Clint Eastwood, is out today.

From Warner Bros. Pictures come director/producer Clint Eastwood’s uplifting and poignant drama “Cry Macho.” The film stars Eastwood as Mike Milo, a one-time rodeo star and washed-up horse breeder who, in 1979, takes a job from an ex-boss to bring the man’s young son home from Mexico. Forced to take the backroads on their way to Texas, the unlikely pair faces an unexpectedly challenging journey, during which the world-weary horseman finds unexpected connections and his own sense of redemption.

Wife of a Spy

Wife of a Spy, the new movie from Kiyoshi Kurosawa, is out today.

The year is 1940 in Kobe, on the eve of the outbreak of World War II. Local merchant and amateur filmmaker Yusaku (Issey Takahashi) senses that things are headed in an unsettling direction. Following a trip to Manchuria, he becomes determined to bring to light the things he witnessed there, and secretly filmed. Meanwhile, his wife Satoko (Yû Aoi) receives a visit from her childhood friend, now a military policeman. He warns her about Yusaku’s seditious ways and reveals that a woman her husband brought back from his trip has died. Satoko confronts Yusaku, but when she discovers his true intentions, she is torn between loyalty to her husband, the life they have built, and the country they call home.

Lady of the Manor

Lady of the Manor, the new movie from Christian Long and Justin Long, is out today.

Past and present collide in this supernaturally funny buddy comedy when stoner-slacker Hannah (Melanie Lynskey) is hired to portray Lady Wadsworth (Judy Greer), a Southern belle who died in 1875, in a tour at Wadsworth Manor. Hannah, a hot mess, figures she can fake it —until the ghost of Lady Wadsworth appears! Lady Wadsworth tells Hannah it’s time to change her wild ways — and she’ll haunt her until she does — in this hilarious movie costarring Justin Long and Ryan Phillippe.

Best Sellers

Best Sellers, the new movie from Lina Roessler, is out today.

In a last-ditch effort to save the boutique publishing house her father has left her, an ambitious young editor (Plaza) goes on a book tour with a bitter, booze-addled author (Caine) who put the publishing house on the map decades ago.

Squid Game

Squid Game, the new TV series from Dong-hyuk Hwang, is out today.

Hundreds of cash-strapped players accept a strange invitation to compete in children’s games. Inside, a tempting prize awaits — with deadly high stakes.

The Morning Show S2

The second season of The Morning Show, the TV series from Jay Carson, is out today.

Picking up after the explosive events of Season 1, this season finds the Morning Show team emerging from the wreckage of Alex (Jennifer Aniston) and Bradley’s (Reese Witherspoon) actions, to a new UBA and a world in flux, where identity is everything, and the chasm between who we present and who we really are comes into play.

Deltarune Chapter 2

Deltarune Chapter 2, the new game from Toby Fox, is out today.

Fight (or spare) alongside new characters in UNDERTALE's parallel story, DELTARUNE...!

TOEM

TOEM, the new game from Something We Made, is out today.

Set off on a delightful expedition and use your photographic eye to uncover the mysteries of the magical TOEM in this hand-drawn adventure game. Chat with quirky characters, solve their problems by snapping neat photos, and make your way through a relaxing landscape!

Severed Steel

Severed Steel, the new game from Greylock Studio and Digerati, is out today.

Severed Steel is a single-player FPS featuring a fluid stunt system, destructible voxel environments, loads of bullet time, and a unique one-armed protagonist. It's you, your trigger finger, and a steel-toed boot against a superstructure full of bad guys. Chain together wall runs, dives, flips, and slides to take every last enemy down.

Montero

Montero, the new album from Lil Nas X, is out today.

[nxrthmizu]

Daminette December Day 16: ‘Hogwarts AU’ [Part Nine]

[Note: This will be a continuation of my Hogwarts AU series, if you haven’t read that yet, use the link >>

/Part One//Part Eight/

Enjoy!!! :D ]

---

“Todd, are you an idiot?” Damian scowled angrily, glaring daggers at his brother. Jason opened his mouth to snark back an retort, but not before Dick stopped him. 

“Come on, give the kid a break. He’s stressed out because his girlfriend is coming over for Christmas.” Dick whispered, nudging Jason as he did so. Tim nodded in agreement, giving the youngest son of the Wayne household an encouraging smile. 

“It’ll be fine, Damian.” Tim smiled warmly. “I’m sure she’ll love it.” 

Damian scoffed at his third brother. “I’m not nervous!” 

Alfred, bringing out a plate of cookies, raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure, Master Damian?” 

Damian blushed in embarrassment. “I’m not nervous.” He muttered, refusing to look any of his brothers in the eye. 

Jason, who was notorious for not caring, gave in. “Look, demon spawn, if there’s ever going to be a girl who’s going to love you, it’s her. I’m a 100% sure we could live in a dumpster and she’d be accepting with that.” 

Dick and Tim cast amazed glances at the second eldest of the family. And then that amazement was quickly ended with Jason’s need of adding a snarky remark. 

“Of course, if you screw up and she decides she hates you, maybe you might never get married.” Jason shrugged, trying to hide his embarrassment from having made such a cringe-y pep-talk with his youngest brother. 

Damian internally panicked at his brother’s words, his emerald eyes swarming with worry and anxiety. 

“I’m sure she’ll love our manor, Damian.” Dick soothed, using his wand to levitate a cookie from Alfred’s tray to hand to the green-eyed Slytherin. 

“But maybe she won’t love you.” Jason added, laughing playfully as Damian shot a quick jinx at him angrily. Tim hid a smile, glad to see Damian back in his usual hexing habits. 

“Get back here, Todd!” Damian screeched angrily, and Bruce was heard from his office above. 

“No hexing in the manor!” He hollered, reminding the boys of the no-hex rule. 

Damian growled angrily, chasing Jason into the kitchen. “Fuck that. Get back here, Todd!” 

Alfred watched him with a small smile, putting the next batch of Christmas cookies inside the oven. “Master Damian, please take your hexing out of the kitchen.” He then glared at Jason. “Master Jason, please keep your remarks to yourself or no cookies for Christmas.” 

Jason pouted at this, but not before he yelped, dodging another hex that a still-furious Damian had thrown at him. “Oi!” He yelled. “No hexes in the manor!” 

---

“Thank you so much, Madame Bustier.” Marinette thanked for the twentieth time, levitating her trunk by her side. 

The woman smiled warmly at her. “Just have fun, and come back in time for school to began.” 

Marinette nodded, taking a pinch of the Floo powder into her hands, stepping into the fireplace. 

“Gotham!” 

---

“Calm down, Damian!” Tim yelled in exasperation. “Please! Enough!” 

Dick tried to say something in the defence of the emerald-eyed boy, but lost himself in getting interrupted by Damian’s agitated pacing of the living room. 

“Can you just stop pacing before I hex you?” Jason growled.

“I’m just-!” Damian threw his hands up in frustration. “Fine!” He plopped down on the chair, crossing his arms as he panicked in place. 

The fireplace suddenly flared green, and out stepped the bluenette that they all had been waiting for. 

“Marinette!” Damian greeted, getting up abruptly from his chair. He whipped out his wand, performing a quick non-verbal spell (Impressive for a first year, but hey, he grew up with three brothers) to levitate her trunk inside as she looked around in awe. 

“It’s so big!” She beamed. “Thanks for inviting me.” 

Damian smiled. “No problem.” He shot Jason a glare when the said boy cleared his throat, wishing to be noticed. “As you know, these are my brothers, and that’s Pennyworth, our butler.” 

Marinette bobbed her head up and down, nodding along with what he said. “You don’t have any house elves?” She asked in surprise. 

“Father doesn’t like them.” Tim informed her, pulling out his wand. “But since there are so many of us in the manor the chores are split between all four of us and Alfred.” 

Marinette oohed in understanding. Then she remembered something. “Damian, can we go see Titus? Please?” She asked, eyes wide and adorable. 

Damian blushed badly, and all his brothers resisted the urge to laugh and awe at the situation. “O-Of course.” He stuttered. “He's outside.” 

Once the two had left, Tim let out a loud wheeze from all the laughter he was penting up. “Did you see him blush?” 

“Damn, demon spawn has it for her bad,” Jason snickered. 

“He’s completely smitten.” Dick chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, who’s up for spying them in the garden?” 

---

Once they were in the garden, Damian let out a sharp whistle, and the pair stood in silence for a while before the black dane came running out, panting happily at the call of his owner. 

“He’s adorable!” Marinette smiled. 

Titus eyed the girl weirdly before looking back at his owner, only to see Damian gazing at her with fond eyes. 

Ah. This must be master’s mate. Titus thought. He woofed, nudging Marinette nearer towards Damian by pushing on her leg with his snout, wagging his tail proudly. His little master got a mate. About time, too. 

“Titus!” Damian scolded, but the dog only continued pushing them together playfully. 

“Seems like Titus ships them as much as we do.” Dick whispered from behind a bush. “Dang, we go loads of Daminette shippers in here.” 

“Indeed, Master Dick.” Alfred replied, wiping a tear from his face. “Master Damian is growing up so fast.” 

“Let’s hope she doesn’t ditch him.” Jason remarked off-handedly, only to be whacked on the head by multiple people at the same time. 

“Either join Daminette club or leave, Jason.” Tim scowled. 

Up above the garden, looking below from the window, was Bruce. He was very proud. His son had made a good choice, and he rather liked the bluenette. Using the muggle device called a ‘camera’ he snapped a photo, smiling. “For the Daminette club.” 

---

/Part Ten/

---

Aye it’s been a long time but I finally updated this :D 

Tag list: @kceedraws @constancetruggle  @ellerahs @2sunchild2 @mystery-5-5 @ki117h3dr4g0n @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @tbehartoo @resignedcatservant @im-here-for-the-content @mooshoon @darkened-flame @spicybelladonna @whomthefyck @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @xxmadamjinxx @rhub4rb @a-marlene-s @mochinek0 @zalladane @t-nikki10 @angelicbookfangirl  @politelyvicious @mikantsume @iggy-of-fans @shizukiryuu @littleredrobinhoodlum @thebananathatwrites @my-name-is-michell @7-sage-7 @linnyalou @ladylb @particularlygeeky @vivilakitty @iglowinggemma28 @alexzandria-747 @luciferge @lunar-wolf-warrior @aurordraws @urbanpineapplefarmer @clumsy-owl-4178 @creator-josie @driftingmoonlitpetals @fiendsangelical @mjisntme @two-faced-biatch @thecatnipmademedoit @northernbluetongue

[aion-rsa]

The Best Thanksgiving TV Episodes

https://ift.tt/2IIxzXR

Halloween and Christmas are objectively the two best American holidays. One allows for us all to indulge in our gothic, spooky side, while the other comes along with family and cheer (forced or otherwise). There’s another holiday between them, however, that is at constant risk of being overlooked.

Thanksgiving doesn’t have candy like Halloween or presents like Christmas. What it does have, thankfully, is television. Just like its Halloween counterpart, Thanksgiving comes along in the fall at an important time in the TV schedule. Traditionally, the last week of November is when many network TV shows are looking for a quick boost of creative and commercial energy to get through the Christmas break. And what better way than to do so than with a Thanksgiving episode, where all characters are basically culturally required to get together?

Though Halloween and Christmas specials often get the most attention, there are many fascinating Thanksgiving-themed episodes of popular TV shows. Here are just some of our favorites. 

Bob’s Burgers

Season 3 Episode 5 – “An Indecent Thanksgiving Proposal” 

Fox’s beloved animated series has staked its claim to Thanksgiving as its holiday of choice, which makes sense given that the Belcher clan takes their food quite seriously. Of the many Bob’s Burgers Thanksgiving specials, season 3’s “An Indecent Thanksgiving Proposal” is likely the best.

This episode finds Bob reluctantly agreeing to “rent out” his family to landlord Calvin Fischoeder (voiced by Kevin Kline) to pose as his family for Thanksgiving dinner while Bob poses as the family chef. While this is a strong enough set up to begin with, the episode excels at escalation and goes to some wild places – even indulging one of the series’ favorite recurring gags of Bob losing his mind and befriending an inanimate object. Of course the inanimate object this time around is none other than a Thanksgiving turkey.

Brooklyn Nine-Nine

Season 5 Episode 7 – “Two Turkeys”

“Two Turkeys” is a prime example of what makes Thanksgiving such a creatively rich holiday for sitcoms and other serialized TV endeavors to exploit. Brooklyn Nine-Nine had already long established that both Jake (Andy Samberg) and Amy’s (Melissa Fumero) respective parents were crazy. All that was left to do was to get them in the same room together.

Read more

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That’s just what “Two Turkeys” does. The whole family, including Jake’s dad Roger (Bradley Whitford), Amy’s dad Victor (Jimmy Smits), and Amy’s mom Camila (Bertila Dama), decides to have Thanksgiving at Jake’s mom Karen’s (Katey Sagal) house. Quickly, dueling Thanksgiving turkeys are set up, competitive juices start flowing, and a thumb or two is lost. “Two Turkeys” is Brooklyn Nine-Nine’s best Thanksgiving episode but “Mr. Santiago” in which Boyle intends to behead a live turkey certainly gives it a run for its money. 

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Season 4 Episode 8 – “Pangs”

Most TV Thanksgiving specials ignore the complicated origins of the holiday…and perhaps wisely so. For a long time, most sitcoms and network dramas lacked a real capacity to carefully discuss Thanksgiving myth-making while also addressing Native American genocide. 

Buffy the Vampire Slayer, however, had no such misgivings and dives right in. “Pangs” is technically the beginning of a Buffy/Angel two-hour Thanksgiving event. It’s got all the usual Thanksgiving episode trappings: food, friends, and family. It also has an army of Chumash Indian Warriors coming back from the grave to punish Sunnydale for its colonial sins. 

Chuck

Season 4 Episode 10 – “Chuck Versus the Leftovers”

This is cheating a bit as “Chuck Versus the Leftovers” technically takes place on the day after Thanksgiving. But Black Friday shopping and turkey leftovers are certainly a part of the Thanksgiving experience. 

This episode finds Chuck’s mom Mary (Linda Hamilton) and international arms dealer Alexei Volkoff (Timothy Dalton) coming over to Chuck’s place for a day-after-Thanksgiving leftover feast. Meanwhile Chuck’s friends at Buy More have to contend with the Black Friday shopping crowd. This is the definitive Chuck Thanksgiving episode as it highlights what the show does well. It balances the high-octane drama of Chuck’s spy life with his supposedly tranquil home life. Getting to enjoy Linda Hamilton and Timothy Dalton going head to head is just icing on the Jell-O salad. 

The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air

Season 1 Episode 12 – “Talking Turkey”

The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air features a few Thanksgiving episodes over its six season run but its first attempt remains the best. Will’s mom Viola makes one of her rare series appearances here when she joins the Banks’ household for Thanksgiving. 

After the parents see how the kids mistreat everyone’s beloved butler Geoffrey, the gang is forced to cook a Thanksgiving meal on their own. Predictably it doesn’t go well. This is a big episode for all involved but for Viola and Aunt Viv in particular. It’s fascinating to watch through a modern lens, given original Aunt Viv actress Janet Hubert’s steadfast lack of involvement in all future Fresh Prince reboots and reunions. 

Friday Night Lights

Season 4 Episode 13 – “Thanksgiving”

So many of the best moments in Friday Night Lights happen at the Taylor family dinner table. How then could the show pass up an opportunity for a good-old fashioned Thanksgiving episode?

“Thanksgiving” is an excellent episode that also serves as its respective season’s finale. This hour concludes Coach Taylor’s first year with the East Dillon Lions in truly satisfying fashion. Before that there’s still plenty of time for a heart-to-heart with QB Vince Howard and Buddy Garrity’s attempts at frying a turkey. 

Friends

Season 5 Episode 8 – “The One With All the Thanksgivings”

Perhaps no series on television took the responsibility of Thanksgiving episodes more seriously than Friends. Friends has so many Thanksgiving-themed episodes that the entire list could essentially be made up of them. And that makes sense given the show’s premise of friends as a found family in the big city.

For the purposes of this list, however, let’s go with the aptly-named “The One With All the Thanksgivings.” In this fifth season episode, Ross, Rachel, Phoebe, Monica, Joey, and Chandler flashback to all of the Thanksgivings they’ve shared together. Consider this a Canterbury Tales of Thanksgiving … that just happens to feature Monica with a turkey on her head.

Gilmore Girls

Season 3 Episode 9 – “A Deep Fried Korean Thanksgiving”

Stars Hollow, Connecticut on Gilmore Girls just looks like a town itching for a good fall holiday. The New England hamlet is the kind of place that absolutely lights up with some fallen leaves and the warm aroma of turkey in the oven. Thankfully, the show agreed and rolled out a Thanksgiving-centric episode in its third season.

“A Deep Fried Korean Thanksgiving” adopts the tried and true “accepted too many dates to the ball” trope as Lorelai and Rory are pulled among four competing Thanksgiving dinners: Lorelai’s parents, Sookie, Luke, and Lane. It’s a jam-packed (and tofurkey-packed) episode that still somehow finds the time to introduce the beloved Cat Kirk.

How I Met Your Mother

Season 3 Episode 9 – “Slapsgiving”

In many ways, How I Met Your Mother was the natural sitcom successor to Friends. Like its NBC forefather CBS’s comedy followed a group of friends living their best lives in New York City. Another area in which HIMYM picks up the Friends ball and runs with it is with its appropriately respectful treatment of Thanksgiving.

How I Met Your Mother loves itself a good Thanksgiving episode. None of them, however, are better than the season 3 installment “Slapsgiving.” This episode finds the gang gathering at Marshall and Lily’s house for their first Thanksgiving as a married couple. Meanwhile, Barney is living in mortal fear of the third slap Marshall owes him due to losing a “slap bet.” That countdown to The Slap imbues an already excellent episode with a real fun sense of urgency. 

It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia

Season 9 Episode 10 – “The Gang Squashes Their Beefs”

Dennis, Dee, Charlie, Mac, and Frank have made a lot of enemies during It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia’s very long, very creatively lucrative run. That’s why for the show’s ninth season finale, the gang decided to gather several of the folks they wronged together and get to squashing some beefs. And what better way to do so than with a nice Thanksgiving dinner?

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This installment is a one big setup to a dinner table with the gang’s rogue’s gallery at the end and it is all well worth the wait. Some dry turkey and even dryer conservation is nowhere near enough to make nice with the McPoyles, Hwang, Cricket, Gail the Snail, or Bill Ponderosa, but bless the gang for trying anyway.

Mad Men

Season 1 Episode 13 – “The Wheel”

Not many Thanksgiving episodes can lay claim to being their respective series best hours, but then again AMC’s all-time classic Mad Men isn’t just any other series. Season 1 finale “The Wheel” is certainly among the best Mad Men installments ever and it just so happens to take place during the week of Thanksgiving 1960.

The Thanksgiving timeframe serves as an elegiac backdrop and Mad Men viewers are forced to confront what kind of man Don Draper really is. Don delivers the pitch of his lifetime to Kodak executives as he urges them to imagine their latest photo wheel creation not as a sleek, dispassionate time machine, but a carousel that can bring families back home to all the most important times of their lives. Then when Don returns home for Thanksgiving, he discovers what he probably already knew – those times are gone and no carousel can bring them back.

Master of None

Season 2 Episode 8 – “Thanksgiving”

OK, we know we just said that not many Thanksgiving episodes can lay claim to being their respective series’ best but here is another contender. “Thanksgiving” is the eighth episode of Master of None’s second (and thus far, final) season and it’s a perfect example of everything the show does well.

This episode takes a break from Dev’s (Aziz Ansari) storyline in the present to delve into the past of his friend Denise (Lena Waithe). Over several Thanksgiving meals throughout the years, Denise comes to realize her attraction to women, processes it, and does her best to communicate her identity to her mom (Angela Bassett). It’s a touching saga made possible by the Thanksgiving season. It also serves as many viewers’ introduction to the storytelling dynamo that is Lena Waithe. 

This episode takes a break from Dev’s (Aziz Ansari) storyline in the present to delve into the past of his friend Denise (Lena Waithe). Over several Thanksgiving meals throughout the years, Denise comes to realize her attraction to women, processes it, and does her best to communicate her identity to her mom (Angela Bassett). It’s a touching saga made possible by the Thanksgiving season. It also serves as many viewers’ introduction to the storytelling dynamo that is Lena Waithe. 

The O.C.

Season 1 Episode 11 – “The Homecoming”

Mid-2000s teen drama The O.C. always paid proper respect to holidays. Who could forget the Cohen family’s dutiful observation of “Chrismukkah?” But the series’ first Thanksgiving installment in season 1 might just be its best holiday offering ever. 

“The Homecoming” is a wonderful example of everything that The O.C. does well. The plot splits itself in two with Ryan (Ben McKenzie) and Marissa (Mischa Barton) heading back to Ryan’s hometown of Chino to meet Ryan’s brother in prison. That sets up a ludicrous crime arc that would make even the Riggins brothers of Friday Night Lights jealous. Meanwhile, back at the Cohen household, Seth’s (Adam Brody) inelegant juggling of the two women in his life comes to a chaotic head.

Orange is the New Black

Season 1 Episode 9 – “Fucksgiving”

Orange is the New Black’s Thanksgiving episode debuted all the way back in 2013, when Netflix was just proving itself to be a spot for original content. So imagine viewers’ surprise that in the streaming world, you can include the F-word in episode titles.

As is the case in every OITNB episode, a lot happens in this hour-long installment. But with Thanksgiving as the backdrop, there’s a real festive air to the proceedings. Perhaps it helps that Taystee (Danielle Brooks) is set to be released and returned to the real world or that Pennsatucky (Taryn Manning) is praying for the rightful end of said real world. In any case, “Fucksgiving” passionate conclusion makes a convincing case that Thanksgiving is among the sexiest of holidays.

Riverdale

Season 4 Episode 7 – “The Ice Storm”

Riverdale’s Thanksgiving episode is about just as insane as one would imagine a Riverdale Thanksgiving episode would be. “The Ice Storm” (which borrows its name and concept from Rick Moody’s 1994 novel of the same name) finds Jughead and Betty stranded at Stonewall Prep due to an ice storm on Thanksgiving while Archie hosts a Thanksgiving dinner at the community center.

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Of course this episode features cartoonish levels of scheming, but it also takes the responsibility of the holiday seriously. Riverdale spends the episode’s opening once again addressing the tragic death of Luke Perry and his character, Fred Andrews. Amid all the plot twists, the show still excels at putting family first. 

Seinfeld

Season 6 Episode 8 – “The Mom and Pop Store”

Many episodes of Seinfeld feature dense plotting, but even by those standards “The Mom and Pop Store” is a very busy episode of television. These 22 minutes feature Jerry getting tricked by a mom and pop shoe store, George trying to find Jon Voight, and Kramer having some major nosebleed problems.

But the Thanksgiving portion of the episode is what stands out as Elaine gets the invite to Jerry’s dentist’s (played by none other than Bryan Cranston, beginning his fruitful arc of Seinfeld guest appearances) Thanksgiving. Jerry is unsure if he himself is invited, but when dental issues begin to pop up, he decides that a Thanksgiving dinner full of dentists might be a useful place to stop by.

Smallville

Season 6 Episode 7 – “Rage”

While it was cruel for Smallville to wait until after the Jonathan Kent era to hold its first Thanksgiving episode, it’s nice that it got around to it all the same. Granted, Thanksgiving doesn’t factor much into “Rage.” Instead much of the hour deals with Clark assisting his good friend Oliver Queen with his mysterious addiction.

But when the Thanksgiving table moment finally does arrive, it’s a real winner. In terms of pre-Arrowverse WB/CW warm and fuzzies, it’s hard to top a dinner featuring Clark Kent, Martha Kent, Lionel Luther, and Green-freaking-Arrow. And of course the presence of NXIVM’s own Allison Mack as Chloe Sullivan just adds a strange glow over all.

The Sopranos

Season 3 Episode 8 – “He Is Risen”

Many classic Sopranos scenes take place around the Sopranos family dinner table (mostly so Tony can yell at the insufferable A.J.). It’s only natural then that the show would feature a Thanksgiving episode at some point during its classic six-season run.

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That moment comes midway through the excellent season 3. Granted, Thanksgiving doesn’t play a major role in this hour, aside from Janice’s creepy elderly boyfriend muttering “he is risen” during dinner. But this episode is filled with classic Sopranos moments all the same: the introduction of Gloria Trillo, the death of Gigi Cestone on the toilet, and Ralph’s continued seasons-long efforts to dig his own grave. All of those events will factor heavily in the episodes to come, for now, however, The Sopranos is happy to just pass the gravy (actual gravy, not red sauce).

South Park

Season 15 Episode 13 – “A History Channel Thanksgiving”

Over the span of its staggering 23 seasons (plus one Pandemic Special), South Park has revealed a real affinity for holiday episodes, particularly the Christmas ones in which the show can feature longtime characters Santa Claus and Jesus Christ.

In this season 15 episode, however, South Park turns its satirical eye to Thanksgiving…or the History Channel version of it more accurately and weirdly. After the boys are assigned a paper on the history of Thanksgiving, they watch the History Channel to discover that the holiday’s origins are far more extraterrestrial than expected. Soon, Stan and company are involved in an interdimensional Thanksgiving adventure involving wormholes and Natalie Portman.

The West Wing

Season 2 Episode 8 – “Shibboleth”

A “Shibboleth” is a long-standing tradition or custom (often a phrasing or even a single word) that distinguishes one group of people from another. The best episodes of The West Wing seek to understand what the shibboleths of this strange country are…and “Shibboleth” is undoubtedly one of the series’ best episodes.

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It’s the night before Thanksgiving at the White House and the West Wing staff are all facing decisions. CJ has been tasked with choosing between two turkeys to pardon; Toby, Josh, and Sam must figure out how to watch football on Thanksgiving day; and most seriously: President Bartlett has to decide what to do with a boat of persecuted Chinese evangelical Christians seeking asylum. It’s a typically hectic day in the West’s most powerful executive office, but the show explores how one holiday can bring all the chaos to a halt. For a little bit at least.

The post The Best Thanksgiving TV Episodes appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/32LNlrE

[fox-guardian]

Meeting the Master (part 2)

Part 1

His first task of the morning was to wake up his master with breakfast, so after getting dressed, he went out to retrieve it. Eggs, bacon, juice, biscuits; it smelled rather tasty. He brought it back up to his master's room and knocked upon the door.

"Master Henry, it's time to wake up," he called. He didn't get a response. He did this a second time before opening the door just a tad. Now he could hear snoring. He stepped inside and approached his sleeping master. He was laying on his luxurious bed wrapped in his luxurious sheets, and hugging a luxurious pillow tightly to his chest as he snored loudly. 

"...Master Henry," he repeated. Henry's eyes snapped open as he jolted awake. He turned and squinted at Poole, "Mm...Morning...." he greeted as he tossed his pillow aside. Poole took his master's glasses from his nighttable and presented them to him alongside his breakfast. Henry woke himself up a bit more, put on his glasses, and then sighed, straightening himself into perfect posture as he began eating. Odd, Poole thought, he didn't need to look so formal. He had just woken up. 

Poole stood there awkwardly watching him eat. "Is there... anything I could do for you, Sir?" he asked.

"You could leave me alone," Henry replied, rather bluntly. He then froze, as if immediately regretting what he'd said.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Sir, unless you have a specific task for me to do," he said, noting that this must be the sort of behaviour his father would want to hear about. Speaking of which, he hadn't seen Mr. Jekyll yet today. Or Mrs. Jekyll, for that matter. Perhaps they weren't up yet? 

Henry sighed, and continued eating in silence. Poole found a chair and sat down on it, taking in the room around him. It was clean and perfectly organized. He looked over at what appeared to be a sort of makeshift study area or miniature laboratory, with books and a chemistry set that took up most of a desk. 

"Permission to speak, Master?" Poole asked.

"Su- Yes, permission granted, Poole..." he replied. He didn't seem to be used to giving orders. Poole thought he would've had some experience with the other servants, but perhaps he was so naughty that those privileges had been taken away before he could practice.

"What's all that?" he finally asked, pointing at the bottles and beakers.

"Oh, I recently got back from university. I'm now a doctor of medicine. That's my chemistry equipment," he still seemed annoyed by Poole's presence, and he couldn't blame him. He wouln't want someone spying on him all day either, but he assumed he was deserving of such punishment so he didn't have much sympathy for him. 

"Doctor of medicine? That's an interesting field choice," Poole said, trying to see how such an apparently unruly young man could graduate from a university.

"Mm," said Henry between bites of bacon, "My parents weren't as excited about my passions for science as I was. Perhaps that's why I also got a couple of degrees in law..." 

Law degrees? And chemistry? That's a lot of school he'd have to commit to attending...

"You've already gotten both law and medical degrees? How?" he asked.

"I attended medical and law school simultaneously. It's a matter of careful scheduling, really," he paused and took a sip of juice, "I didn't get much sleep..."

Poole was surprised. He didn't think someone so "disobediant" and "defiant" could commit to such a schedule. Surely there was a reasonable explaination, though he couldn't find it yet.

...

Later that day, Henry announced that he would be going out to spend time with a couple of friends. Poole asked another servant where Mr. and Mrs. Jekyll were, and was informed that Mr. Jekyll had left for work and that the Missus was off with friends somewhere and that neither would be back before the evening. A busy bunch, he thought.

Poole, as he was instructed, followed his master out as he went to visit his friends. They arrived at a cafe and Henry approached a certain table with two other young gentlemen sitting at it, eating lunch. One was a heavyset fellow donning a suit of soft blues and light blonde hair, and the other a taller, more brawny fellow wearing reds and browns, with very pale blonde hair that mostly covered one eye, glasses, and a nice mustache. 

Henry's demeanor seemed to shift as he greeted them. He stretched out his arms and spoke clearly and articulately, you could hear the smile on his face as he spoke, "Ah, Utterson, Lanyon, my dearest friends! How are you?"

They looked at him, a bit shocked and disturbed, as if a stranger had approached them. 

Henry continued, "Let me introduce you to my new servant, Poole," Poole stepped forward and bowed for them, "His job is to serve my needs..." his tone shifted slightly, "...and to report my misbehaviour to my parents."

His friends' faces fell with pity and understanding. Perhaps they were troublemakers as well and Poole was keeping them from their fun. They sat down with the two young men and ordered their food. Poole learned that the one in blue was "Utterson" and the one in red was "Lanyon". He also learned that Henry had met them both during university, he studied medicine with Lanyon and studied law with Utterson. 

The air became tense once again, and in an effort to break it, Lanyon suggested going for a walk through the park. As they made their way over, Poole stood behind the three friends, noting how much his master stood out from them. Not only was his fashion sense much darker than theirs with his jet black coat and hat contrasting with their more gentle blue and brown coats and hats, but they way he held himself was also odd. His friends walked... simply. Just walking as people do. He supposed Lanyon walked with a certain excitement, swaying a doctor's bag proudly with each step, while Utterson seemed more reserved, keeping his hands in front of him. Each of them bobbed with each step they took, and from a distance, nothing was very unusual or unique about their ways of moving. It was only up close and next to Henry that a distinction could be made. He held himself with perfect posture, his arms shifting only slightly by his sides and his head staying still with each step. If you couldn't see his feet on the ground you'd think he was floating just above it. His walk was perfectly even, almost eerily so. If it weren't balanced by his cheery demeanor, Poole would think a ghost was walking ahead of him. But even then it still seemed off.

Everything had started to seem off.

...

They finally arrived at the park, picking up pebbles and skipping them into the pond, occasionally picking up a conversation topic only to end it a tad sooner than Poole thought made sense. They weren't talking about anything awful, just reminiscing about recent get-togethers, or even university... but each topic seemed to die prematurely. It was quiet, tense. Poole noticed that Henry hadn't tossed any stones yet. He was simply standing by, out of place among his own friends. At first Poole thought that perhaps they simply spent time with him because of his status, but it became clear to him that Henry wasn't usually like this around them.

They stopped skipping stones and went further into the park. Lanyon suggested going off the path and wandering among the trees. Despite no signs saying that this was prohibited, and Poole recalling many times where people would do just that, Henry adamantly but politely declined. 

Poole looked at his master. He was smiling a perfect smile. The same smile he'd had on the entire time. It started to waver. It looked as if he was trying to fight back whatever expression was trying to pass over his face. He took a deep breath, exhaled, and finally agreed to step off the path. His voice also seemed to be caught in a struggle as he spoke.

They all wandered into the trees. Utterson pointed out animals and bugs, Lanyon smiling at the little flowers that popped up here and there, and Henry stepping on every stick he could find until it made a satisfying snap. 

"...Does anyone else smell pie?" Henry asked, sniffing the air.

"Oh!" said Utterson, "That's probably me. I went over to my parents' house and baked a cherry pie with my mother, so the smell may be lingering."

"Ah, that's right, you moved out of your parents' house, didn't you?" Henry asked.

"Yes, I'm still getting used to it... I miss waking up to the smell of breakfast wafting in from the kitchen," he said wistfully, and then laughed, "Now I've got to make it myself!"

"Get yourself some servants," said Lanyon, "a cook, a maid, a butler, it'd make things easier."

"True," Utterson replied, "but my mother taught me all these skills... It'd be a shame never to use them."

As they were talking, Poole glanced over at his master, who seemed to be trembling. Poole then came upon a realization. Ah... he thought, that's what's been creeping onto his face...

Henry then bent down and picked up a large, leafless branch. Suddenly, he lifted the branch over his left shoulder and swung it at the trunk of a tree, snapping the branch in half with a startling crack. Everyone jumped, including Poole. 

He finished his thought, ...rage.

Henry started pacing and muttering to himself, "...what's the point if he's just gonna tell them ev'r'thin... doesn't change anythin... it'll all be the same anyway..."

Utterson approached him, resting a hand on his shoulder, and began softly whispering to him. He seemed to relax. Lanyon also tried to calm him down, but to no avail. He started trembling more, crumbling into a little ball on the ground, hiding his face in his hands. They all stood by silently until he threw his hands up in frustration and stood up again.

"Forget it! I give up!" he said, having lost his perfect composure, "Doesn't matter anyway. Why bother? Let's go climb a tree."

Poole was... confused, at best. He had no idea what he was talking about, but was more than a bit concerned about that little rage fit. He'd have to report that, definitely.

They went on, enjoying themselves more thoroughly. Lanyon and Henry raced each other up a tree while Utterson stood at the bottom telling them were going to hurt themselves, they made little crowns out of flowers, and told silly jokes. Poole took note of everything particularly dangerous or inappropriate for a young gentleman to be taking part in, but they were mostly just being young men. Playing silly games, having fun... nothing Poole hadn't done when he was younger. He wasn't really seeing the man that had been described to him. Perhaps there was worse to come? Surely there was. This was far too tame to require a chaperone, especially for a grown man. Maybe the Jekylls simply had different standards? But wasn't this a tad extreme? 

Time would tell, he decided. He still had the better part of a week before the first meeting, there was still a lot to learn about his new master. Hopefully things would start to make more sense...

((Hoo boy a multi-part story W O W look at me go. I’ll probably do a third part soon as well but yeYE this is fun. This one feels a little messier though, so I hope y’all still enjoy it.))

[yoongs-yoongi]

Let’s Pretend: Three

Yoongi X Reader

Contains: Slight Angst, Comedy, Eventual Smut

Warnings: Implied Parental Bullying, Bullying, Yoongi being the sweetest (uwu!!)

Word Count: 3,543

A/N: Kinda long.

| One | Two | Three |

Yoongi held his stomach laughing, he’s going at it so hard he fell from his spot on the bed and onto the floor. We’ve been lying on his bed peacefully with me telling him about everything. All was going fine up until he heard me saying the nickname my mother had given me.

“It’s not that fun-“ Yoongi howled louder, cutting me off. I pursued my lips, fighting a smile my damn self. I’m not laughing with him, I just have this thing where I smile or laugh at someone else laughing or smiling.

His laughter turned into coughing, “See you’re gonna make yourself sick, will you stop already?”

“Somebody should have stopped your mother from giving you that nickname. Button!” He started up again.

“It’s a very common nickname!”

“On what planet?”

I threw one of his pillows at him. It didn’t phase him, he was laughing harder if that were even possible. A tomato with hair was what he had become, his face was so red. I suffered through his choking laughter for another 20 minutes. Once he was done he crawled back on the bed, still giggling to himself. “Okay, I’m done.”

“You sure?” I asked, agitated.

He nodded, a sly grin proudly plastered on his face. I rolled my eyes, “Aw don’t be mad, button.” He pinched my cheeks.

“Goodnight.” I headed for his door. He was starting up again. “No, I’m sorry!” He jumped up and barricaded himself between me and the door. “I won’t start laughing again, I’ll be good.”

“I don’t believe you, move.”

“I’m serious, I won’t. You don’t look like your family nickname would be Button. I’m was taken back a little, that’s all.”

“Well, it is,” I crossed my arms over my chest and sat back on his bed. Yoongi turned off the lights and got back on the bed with me.

“Why’d you turn the lights off?” I asked.

“It’s nearly midnight, you might as well sleep in here with me.” He laid next to me. Damn, we’ve been talking for that long? I looked over at the clock to see he was right, 11:45 his clock read. I nodded and got under the covers with him. I played with the strings on his hoodie. It was quiet for a minute until Yoongi spoke.

“I want you to know you really hurt me by not telling me about this sooner, I mean your own mother Y/N.”

“My intentions were never to hurt you Yoongi. It was a part of my life I wanted to forget, and didn’t want anyone worrying about it.”

“How’d that work out for you?” He sat up looking at me.

“Not so good. I never brought her up and to make sure no one else did so I said she was dead, I didn’t see the harm to until now. I’m really sorry. Please don’t be mad.” I pouted

“Not mad, just disappointed. I get it, after everything you told me tonight I could understand why you would choose to say she was dead, it was easier.”

“Wayyy easier.” I chuckled.

“Still a shitty thing for you to do.”

I pulled on the strings so his face would disappear behind the crumbled up hood. He still spoke, his mouth was the only thing I could see.

“What I don’t understand is how you nearly tackle me or one of the guys when we ever were having a personal issue and we show it, but when it comes to you-you don’t heed your own advice. Like you always say, we have the type of friendship where we can come to each other with anything no matter what,” He took his hood off, “or does that only apply when it’s your shoulder that’s being cried on?

He uncovered in time to see my nose twitching and I’m pretty sure he could hear my heavy breathing, stupid tears. Yoongi said no more. He gently tugged me into his warm embrace.

 I could smell the washing detergent in his clothes and the lotion he put on after his shower. It was comforting.

So comforting the urge to cry got stronger, my emotions got the best of me and before I knew it the dam broke. I was sobbing violently. Yoongi held me like new a born child, rocking me slightly.

He let me cry into his chest until I fell asleep. When he isn’t being a butthole he can be really sweet.

I woke up hours later, the sun was barely up. I didn’t need any light to let me know that Yoongi’s chest had been replaced with his face. I felt his breath tickling my nose when I woke up instead of the steady rhythm of his heart.

I took a moment to stare at his facial features, something I secretly did. I can’t help it, he resembles a sleeping princess waiting for his prince to awaken him with true loves first kiss. I gently touched one of his long eyelashes. He didn’t budge so I strummed my finger through the fine hairs, he moved when I did that.

I pulled away and waited for him to settle back down. “Note to self, go as Snow White for Halloween next years and make Yoongi be Snow White. I’ll be the Prince,” I mumbled to myself.

I got up quietly, trying not to wake him up. I crept to my room to change out of my clothes from yesterday. I settled for my Winnie The Pooh sweatshirt and some old sweats I had lying around my room. I went into the bathroom to wash my face of the dried tears and to brush my teeth. Hoesok, my co-worker would be coming by soon to pick up his phone he asked me to fix. He and his girlfriend were attempting to get a quickie in the alleyway at work one night and his phone fell from his pocket onto the pavement.

Why he doesn’t have a screen protector or phone case? Anyone’s guess is as good as mine. I made my way to the kitchen, I cut on the coffee maker and got to work.

Meanwhile...

“Are you sure everything is set up Tara, I don’t wanna get my hopes up again like last time.” Karen snared. Tara rolled her eyes, holding her phone in between her cheek and her shoulder.

She unscrewed the medicine cap off her one of pill bottles, “Trust me, everything will go as planned.”

Cordell walked in with a tray with a single glass of water sitting in the middle of it.

“Here you at madam-“ Tara snatched the water.

“Be here sooner. I hate when these things touch my tongue.” She winced, knocking half the glass of water back.

“Ugh, know go.” She shooed him away like one of the dogs.

Cordell backed out of the room. Tara closed her bedroom door, she knows how nosey Cordell can be.

Cordell shook his head, simple woman. He walked to the laundry room and pulled down the door to her laundry shoot. He could hear everything that Tara said, what kind of butler would he be if he didn’t spy?

There isn’t a single thing that goes on in the house that he doesn’t know about.

“Y/N is coming and when she does we’ll set our plan in motion.

“How do you know she’s coming?”

“Trust me, she’ll be here. Does Markus know?”

“Yes, he knows.”

“Perfect.” Tara purred.

“I’m still worried Tara. Y/N went bonkers last time her marrying Markus came up, what if-

“The only reason things went the way they did was because of your big mouth. If you allowed things to go my way we’d both have what we want, and more. Just keep your mouth shut this time and let me handle things.”

“I knew it.” Cordell mouthed to his self. He knew the witch was up to something. 

“ I have to warn Y/N.”

Cordell marched upstairs to his room to fetch your new contact information

“Where did I put that paper?” He rifled through be belongings.

********

“Get a screen protector and phone case, the next time this thing breaks and I find out it was broke during Mr. Nasty Time I’m charging you extra. “ He didn’t even get a chance to walk in before I shoved the bag with his newly fixed phone in it.

“I brought one last night. Mind putting it on for me? There���s a part on the side I don’t get how to undo.”

I grabbed the expensive looking case from his hand. “How do you know it comes a loose and it isn’t actually a piece to a custom made phone?”

“The guy at the store said it does.”

I gave him a look, “Really? You’re gonna believe a guy who charged you an arm and a leg for a phone case.”

“So you’re telling me he lied to me?” He panicked.

“Oh no it comes off,” I slid my finger under the hidden latch. “I just could have made you one for half the price you paid for this one, possibly even given you a deal.”

“Why didn’t you?” He exclaimed. “You ever heard of the phrase ‘ask and you shall receive?’ You didn’t ask so you didn’t receive.” I got up from my chair and went into the kitchen.

“Coffee?” I asked.

“Please.” He took a seat at the bar.

“It might be a little weak, I haven’t had any spare change to buy anymore,” I said over my shoulder to him.

“It’s fine. Thank you, and for fixing my phone too.”

“No prob, Bob.” I turned back around to face him, handing him his coffee. He took a sip, satisfied with the taste. “Hobi I may be going out of town this weekend.”

“Oh? Where you going?”

“To visit family.” Was all I said. Hobi is a good friend, but we’re not that close I would disclose personal information to him.

He simply nodded, “I’ll let Ellie know. She’s been wanting some days.” Ellie is Hobi’s cousin. She isn’t technically a worker seeing as we only call her in when one of wants a day off. “How long will you be gone?”

“Only for the weekend, I’ll be back Monday.”

“Okay. Are you going by yourself?”

“Nope, she’s not,” Yoongi yawned coming out the room with messy bed head. “Hey Hobi.” Yoongi waved. “Hey man.”

He tugged on my ear passing behind me to get some coffee. I shooed him off.

“Up before noon? On a day off? It’s snowing in hell.”

Yoongi made a face at me, “Hardy har har, for your information I don’t have the day off smartness. Not the full day at least, I’m going in for a couple of hours then I’m coming home to begin packing.” He sipped his coffee.

“You still working in the freezing cold at that warehouse?”

“Yup, almost every day now.”

Hobi winced. “I hate the cold.”

“Same, but it helps pay the bills.”

“Excuse me.” I held up my hand. We were just gonna skip over what Yoongi said? “Sorry to interrupt, but when did we establish you were going with me?”

“I established it last night when you were sleeping.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, serious mode activated.

Hobi finished up his coffee and grabbed his bag, “I can clearly see this is a private matter so I’ll let myself out. Call me and let me know if you need me to do anything for you while your out of town okay? Thanks again. See you Yoongi, nice hair btw.”

Yoongi flipped him off.

“Don’t be rude.” 

“He was being sarcastic. You know I hate that.” He mumbled.

I rolled my eyes, “Back to the matter at hand. How do you expect to go? We have no money set aside for things like this and if we did it’s long gone.”

“Or is it?”

Yoongi was making eye contact with me with a sneaky glint in his eyes.

“What are you up to?”

“I have the money,” he took a sip of his coffee.

“How? Where’d you get it?” I was baffled.

“Does it matter?”

“Fuck yeah, to me. So start flapping those pouty lips of yours.”

“I’m asking to get paid early and my boss said if I came in for another employee who is sick and do their shift, plus mine he’d see in to.”

I shook my head, “That’s still isn’t enough for a plane ticket. Where are you getting the rest?”

He took another sip of his coffee,”...I’m using my stash money as well. Phones ringing! I’ll get it.” I held my leg up to block his way.

“Let the answering machine get.”

”Now who’s being rude. You should never keep a person waiting, it could be important.”

“Psh! If it were then whoever is calling would call us on our cell phones, not the house phone we got for when bill collectors harass us. It can wait!”

Yoongi and I were going back and forth, although it sounded like a bunch of jumbled words. We couldn’t let the other get a thing out.

The answering machine took over, “Hi we're unable to take your call at the moment, you know what to do.” My voice sounded.

“Hello? Y/N? Are you there? Oh Y/N please pick up. I have urgent news.”

I stopped speaking at the sound of Cordell’s voice. “Cordell?” I said softly.

Yoongi was still talking. “I le-

“Shut up!” I moved him out of my way to get to the phone. “Y/N, please answer.”

“Who’s that?” Yoongi asked, coming to stand beside me.

“Cordell.

“Your butler?”

I side eyed him, “Not my butler. My friend. My first best friend, actually.”

Yoongi looked from me and the phone, “Answer it already.”

“I can’t!” I groaned.

“What-why not?”

“What if he’s mad at me. I’d be mad at me!” I fumbled with my fingers.

“Mad at you for what?”

“For leaving. I didn’t even say goodbye to him properly.” I rubbed my arm.

Yoongi gave me a sympathetic look. He reached down and grabbed the phone. “He won’t be. Not if he’s your real friend.”

I gulped as he took the phone off the receiver and brought it to my ear. “Go on.” He egged on.

“H-Hello?” I cleared my throat. “Hello?”

“Y/N? Is that you?”

My chuckle caused tears to fall down. Tears I didn’t even know were in my eyes until they fell.

“Yeah, it’s me, hi Cordell.”

Cordell exhaled heavily, “Hello my darling. My how mature your voice has gotten. You no longer sound like my little Y/N.” Cordell said.

I smiled, “Yeah well you still sound old.”

This time he laughed,” I sure hope so. I no longer have a single patch of grey hair. My entire head is gray now.”

I sat down on the couch, Yoongi followed suit and sat down with me. He watched as I chatted away with Cordell. A small smile on his lips.

“Don’t blame your grey follicles on old age. We both know why your head is so grey. You were left to fend off the dragon lady by yourself.

“Now Y/N-

“No Cordell. I felt bad about you leaving like that, still, do. I just had to get out of there.”

“Darling, I don’t resent you for anything you did. I’m proud of you.”

“You are?”

“Yes, without a doubt.“

I sighed heavily feeling a 300-pound weight lift off my shoulder. Yoongi grabbed a tissue and wiped my face. My face was dry, Yoongi continued to wipe, giving my nose extra attention.

“Stop it.” I pushed home away, his shoulders bounced as they did whenever he laughed.

“Stop what, darling?”

“Oh, not you Cordell. I’m talking to Yoongi,” I pressed the speaker on the answering machine. “Say hi, Yoongi.”

“Hi, Yoongi.” He spoke, flatly.

Cordell laughed.

I slapped his chest, “You dingus.”

“You said to say hi Yoongi.” He shrugged.

“I’m not even going there with you.”

“It’s very nice to meet you Yoongi, how long have you two been together? It sounds like I’m listening to an old married couple.”

My eyes widened, “Oh no Cordell we’re not together. Yoongi’s my best friend.”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” He tsked

Yoongi smiled, “I like him.”

“Cordell seriously, we’re best friends.”

“Whatever you say, love.” He chuckled, “This feels like a dream, I can’t believe I’m talking to you again. Honestly, I thought you would be so mad at me you wouldn’t answer.”

Yoongi’s face had a stupid smug smile plastered on it. With narrowed eyes, I told him to, shut up.

“Cordell I was never mad you. I thought you would have been mad at me

“Never.” There was a faint chiming sound in the back. It was her third husband’s family old grandfather clock. She won it during their divorce, along with half of his net worth. I know those annoying chimes anywhere.

“Fiddle. Feeding time for the dogs. Y/N I have to go, but before I do I have to tell you something.”

“What is it?” I scooted back in the couch.

“I overheard your mother speaking with Karen about that arrangement between you and Karen’s son.”

A wave of heat generated in my chest and shot up to my ears. After all these years she’s still trying, oh my god. “Cordell please be serious with me.”

“I am. She says once you land her plan will go into motion. I wouldn’t stir you wrong, I heard what I heard.”

Unbeknownst to you, Yoongi had seen the tears you so secretly wiped away, while coughing into your arm. That was all he needed to see, he was really going now. No way you’re getting him out to stay home.

“Wow....”I sighed heavily.

“Does this mean you're not coming now? I’d understand if you didn’t.” He did a terrible job of hiding his hurt. I didn’t say anything. I don’t know what to say. I would love nothing more than to see my old friend.

“Oh, she’s coming,” Yoongi spoke into the phone. I snatched my head towards him. “

And I’ll be joining her.”

“What are you doing!” I whispered lowly.

“Helping you.” He whispered back.

“Marvelous! Shall I make arrangements for another plane ticket to be sent for you Yoongi?”

“No!” Yoongi and I said together. I’m glad there one thing he and I can agree on.

“Cordell we’ll be talking to you soon. We have much to discuss before for we get there.” Yoongi squeezed my shoulder like Cordell could see it.

“I have no idea what that means but it sounds promising. I’ll talk to you soon, great to hear your voice again Y/N.”

“Same to you old man.” I smiled. Cordell hung up the phone. I wiped the smile clean off and replaced with a glare.

“Why are you causing trouble?”

“I’m not.”

“Yeah, you are. You're about to jump into pool-scratch that a fucking shark tank with everything in your pockets.

Yoongi is saving up to by music equipment for the Genius Lab. He uses some software he downloaded from his computer to make music now.

I can only imagine how his gift will improve with the proper equipment. Any money he had left over from adulting goes to his stash, even his loose change. I can’t let him spend that money.

“Yoongi no.”

“You can’t tell me what to do with my money.”

I balled my hands up into a fist, a nice spot to punch on his chest was staring me in the face.

“Listen for once, I beg of you.”

“No, you listen. So what if I’m about to jump into a shark tank, as you put it, with everything in my pockets, I’m doing it for you.”

I smiled, chuckling a bit, “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I knew I was the reason for you not getting your music equipment.

“Exactly, equipment. Things. Materials. It all means nothing. All I am asking is to let me go with you to be your support, to help you make it through the weekend. Let’s pretend.”

“Pretend to do what?”

He shrugged, “To be together. We sounded like a couple to Cordell, I’m sure we can convince your mother. That way she’d see you're taken and it would force her to back off.”

“Back off, give up, quit, or lose isn’t in my mother’s vocabulary. She sees a challenge? She’s going to use every ounce of her power to make sure she wins. She won’t bat an eye if she steps on a few toes along the way, your toes to be exact.”

“Y/N look who you're talking to. I’ve had my toes stepped on more than enough times to know when to move my feet out of the way. I’m coming and that’s final. So you can continue to stand there and worry for nothing. I’m gonna get ready for work. The sooner I get to work the sooner I can come home. I have a lot of packing to do, babe.” He gave me a big wet slobbery kiss on the cheek and blew on it.

“Ew!” I pushed him off.

[anonthenullifier]

An Auspice of Scarlet - Chapter 9

A Scarlet Vision Victorian AU

Chapter Title: In which a courtship is debuted and the game is afoot.

Chapter Summary: A day at the Exhibition serves as a test to convince Ultron of Wanda's usefulness.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12184758/chapters/41745698

I’ve been waiting over a year to put all my Exhibition of Industry historical research to use! Plus, for the first time, not all the steam in the chapter comes from steam-powered engines ;). 

I hope you enjoy!

Being a poorly paid and much maligned spiritualist affords few luxuries in life but one that Wanda has fully embraced is the less stringent standards of dress. The general air of mysticism required of her craft includes the option to eschew traditional bodices for more airy, unconventional (and far more comfortable) fashions. Thus, her body is wholly unused to the structural boning currently digging into her sides, poking her ribs with every rattle of the railcar over the cobblestones. One particularly jarring bump causes her to wince and then suck in as deep of a breath as she can manage. Wanda holds the air in, hoping her efforts can loosen the fabric just a little bit more. Another bump, this one enough to send her and the others around her into the air, and she is forced to release her breath with a pained gasp. Why they couldn’t have just walked the two miles to the Exhibition, instead of this awful makeshift transport systemA is beyond her.

“Once we get to the Exhibition, you have to stop acting like you’re in an Iron Maiden.” Natasha sits next to her on the bench, an image of grace and self-confidence, her gloved hands crossed and resting on top of the folds of her Brunswick green skirt. Everyone on the railcar must automatically perceive her as the epitome of the docile and demure woman so revered by society. Assuming the paragon of femininity has at least five daggers and a pistol entombed in the folds of her skirt.

Wanda awkwardly rotates to address the judgmental comment with an equally annoyed, “I’ll try.” If the corset is a bit too tight, she imagines it is all part of reinforcing the hierarchy of power today. The thing is, Wanda has never been one to bow easily to assumed superiority. “I still don’t see why all of this,” her hand (bare because she negotiated a more complex braided up-do in exchange for ditching the bow-accented lace gloves) runs along the long-sleeved, basque bodice she was bound into this morning, “is necessary.”

“Wanda,” her name, just like the sharp tugs it took to close the dress, is threaded with annoyance, “no one will believe a couple dressed in social discord.” Natasha’s eyes remain forward, disinterested in the bodies huddle around them, swaying and shifting with the pace of the horses over the uneven road. “If you haven’t noticed, even as a butler, Vision is better dressed than most men of wealth.”

“I’ve definitely noticed.” And thoroughly appreciated the impeccable fit of his fancy threads.

Bemusement briefly snags the corners of Natasha’s mouth, though she disposes of it efficiently. “We weren’t going to be able to dress him down, so you were given the opportunity to expand the horizons of your wardrobe.” This is the closest her tone has ever gotten to amicable and if anyone is eavesdropping they might even misconstrue it as the prattling of long-time friends.

Wanda is willing to concede that for their plan to work it is important that they put on every air of being a posh, socially adroit couple. What she is unwilling to fully accept is the degree of formality they are taking. If, for instance, they had decided they would embark on their public courtship at the Stark gala in two nights, then this ensemble would suffice, even if it paled in comparison to the drama of the other costumes. But for a day at an Exhibition? It seems excessive. The crimson taffeta of the bodice is too luxurious for a crowded railcar. The thick black lines that travel down her torso and dissolve into the gathered ebony skirt (that requires a hoop and three petticoats) is too bold even under the extravagance of the stained-glass ceilings of the Crystal Palace. These two features alone are over the top, self-consciously so, yet it gets worse. All of it is embroidered with a delicate, floral brocade placed in ways that accentuate the curves of her waist that only exist due to the tightness of the corset. She feels like a stuffed swan that’s about to be placed in a flock of pigeons.

“I’m just not sure about the bodice.” Natasha doesn’t sigh even if the action is implicit in the hard stare she maintains with the road in front of them. “Won’t this,” Wanda points at the exposed skin of her chest and shoulders, “garner unwanted attention from the prudes on the prowlB?”

Natasha studies the ensemble, a critical frown masking any outward signs of her thoughts. A rustle of fabric corresponds with her shrug, the action small yet pointed enough to dismiss the entirety of the world. “I think the point of today is to get as much attention as possible. We should be more focused on the mission instead of your clothes.” It is said with exuberant finality, the masquerade of partial deception they are entering a homey place for the spy. “What’s the most important rule?”

Somehow while being caged into this dress and pinned into a class of discomfort formerly unknown to her, Wanda was also expected to strategize. Numerous rules were discussed, each one treated with equal importance depending on where they were in the timeline. “Be amorous,” believability was underscored an offensive amount, an unspoken yet clearly conveyed suspicion in the veracity of their affections, “but not to the point of distraction.”

“Good.” A small spike of pride fills her at passing the first part of the exam. Natasha dips her head as she peers through the grand hats sitting next to them and out the window. “Be aware of your surroundings, always.” Reading minds is a level of awareness perhaps no one else has, but Wanda tries not to bring it up lest she seem fully insubordinate. So, she borrows a page from Natasha’s book and keeps her attention forward, inspecting the feathered vermillion fascinator three benches away. “You haven’t looked over your shoulder once since we left.”

The tips of the feather bob happily to the rhythm of the horseshoes and Wanda can’t keep her words to herself. “You know what I can do.”

“I do, but how am I supposed to find a person based on your description of their thoughts?” Natasha glances out the window again. “We’re the next stop.” With that the conversation is shuttered, left purposefully on her word and the angle of her body solidifies that she isn’t willing to take a rebuttal at the moment.

When the railcar comes to a harsh stop, two men anoint themselves the bearers of civility, taking each woman’s hand as she exits the car. Wanda offers a small, gracious smile before taking her hand back and stands in awe, for a second day, at the shimmering panels of the Crystal Palace. Even the far too large flag atop the dome and the throngs of people milling about and forming queues doesn’t detract from the implausible elegance of the structure. A hand to her shoulder encourages Wanda to move, “Come on, they’re waiting inside.”

The lines are longer today, a menagerie of street performers and food vendors weaving between the impatient crowds in hopes of capitalizing on their antsy boredom. Natasha joins Wanda in watching a blonde, muscular man in a horned hat and fur-lined vest twirl a hammer through the air, much to the amazement of the children behind them in line.  Then they move on.

Once inside, the Grecian statues, carved mirrors, and gleeful choirs lining the main hallway stream past as Wanda does her best to keep pace with the agile steps of Natasha. The energy inside is more chaotic today, no single demonstration drawing the attention like Stark’s did yesterday (something she’s sure Tony is gloating about), leaving all of the people to wander haphazardly based on what display seems more intriguing. Eventually, however, they come upon a small crowd and their steps slow as they skirt along the rim of people to stand at the foot of the Iron Man, no longer lit up and moving, but impressive, nonetheless. Clint smiles at them from his seat on the left foot of the machine, his clothes no different than any other day, except for a slightly cleaner cap on his head. Jealousy rises unbidden at the sheer comfort he seems to be enjoying.  “‘Bout time you got here. You’re missing a good show.”

The Iron Man is not unoccupied. Rhodes is on a ladder, hands fiddling inside one of the valves in the side of the machine while Stark remains on the ground, barking orders, “Just turn it to the left, Rhodey!”

“It won’t go to the left, Tony.” Clearly this suggestion has been made many times already.

A more helpful, patient voice from behind the machine births a mass of butterflies in her stomach, “I believe you need to lift the rim of the valve and then rotate it left.”  

There’s a pop, a distant Finally, and then a hiss that startles the people closest to them, which is followed by Stark’s, “Way to take the eggC, Rhodey! Come on down.”  Tony braces the ladder, looks to the other side which is unpopulated, frowns, and raises his voice enough to be heard above the chatter surrounding them, “Vision, are you really going to hide back there?”

“I-” exasperation is evident in just the one syllable, whatever they’ve been doing this morning taxing enough for both Rhodes and Vision to be annoyed. The only difference is the butler corrects for his supposed out-of-line response, “No, one moment.”

Wanda is aware that Clint and Natasha are talking, yet her mind can’t comprehend what they’re saying, the fluttering in her stomach far too loud. It’s ridiculous, to feel like this, like one of the swooning girls who watch the military marches or stand on the docks as the sailors come in, the ones who rush straight to her tent, demanding a palm reading to confirm that the stray look from the blue uniformed blonde was a marriage proposal. Not to mention she has spent a lot of time with Vision, alone, in far more intimate settings. Yet somehow, standing in a ridiculous dress, barely able to take full breaths, surrounded by people, makes Wanda far more nervous to interact with him than even the first time she waylaid him on his balcony, or the first time at the river when she truly looked at his face and realized how handsome he was.

She blames her malfunctioning nerves for why it takes her several seconds to recognize him when he joins Stark at the ladder. The typical monochromatic uniform of the butler has been replaced by a barrage of colors and patterns so at odds with what she has come to assign her mental representation of Vision, that it is difficult to grasp that this is actually real. It’s not unappealing, by any means, but she’s never even seen his waistcoat have more than a light swirl of silver, much less the broad plaid lines adorning both his charcoal pants and mustard vest. The top hat might be a tad taller than normal, and is definitely a shinier silk. Even his bow tie is different, the knot more pronounced and the droopy curves are wide and showy in a cornflower blue that matches his coat.D

He spies her before she can collect her senses.  There is a pause in his approach, a tentativeness that had been dwindling over the past weeks, and she wonders if it is because she looks just as at odds with the world as he does. He recovers, four long strides and a disarming smile bringing him to her, “Miss Maximoff, you look lovely.”

“Aren’t we long past Miss Maximoff?” A normal response would have been gratitude and a similar (genuine) compliment. Thankfully he doesn’t seem phased by her impropriety, sliding away, briefly, from formality into a mildly nervous dip of his head as he concedes her observation.

“We are, Wand-“

An arm wraps around Vision’s shoulders, as best it can anyway, Stark significantly shorter than the butler, yet he still tries to make the action look comfortable. “Did you kiss her hand?”

“I-”

Stark carries on as if he didn’t ask a question, “Did he kiss your hand?”

“Sir this-”

“He did not.”

A slow, disappointed shake of Tony’s head only serves to deepen the dismay on Vision’s face and Wanda, though sympathetic to his plight, is also thoroughly amused. “What did we talk about, V? You always lead with a kiss to the hand.”

“I have barely gott-”

“Wanda,” Tony grins, pure mischief dancing in his pupils, “forgive him, he’s so new at all of this.”

Defeated silence blares from Vision and Wanda decides it might be her duty to defend his honor, “There’s nothing to apologize for. We are long past hand kisses anyway.”

The escalation of Stark’s glee and the descent of Vision’s soul into the ground confirms the misstep of her attempt, “Oh really?” Tony clasps his arm tighter around Vision’s shoulders, voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper that is designed to be just loud enough for her to hear every word, “And you acted all horrified and puritanical when I brought up tipping the velvetE. The butler doth protest too much, methinks.”

Mortification leeches Vision's face of all color, his eyes refusing to meet Wanda’s as he tries to steer the conversation far from the murky waters it’s entered, “Mr. Stark, a touch more couth, please.”

Stark contemplates the request, slinging a smile towards her that says isn’t this fun? “Fine, fine, I will rein in my uncouthness to protect your delicate sensibilities.”

Wary relief twines through Vision’s, “Thank you” and the conversation lulls into several seconds of silence. Vision eases into a new topic, eyes sliding to see if Tony is going to interrupt, “Wanda, how was your morn-”

“Wanda,” tension instantly grips Vision’s shoulders far tighter than Stark himself and she finds it fascinating to watch the butler wilt under the incessant chatter, like watching a turtle desperately try to get back into its shell after spotting a hawk. “What do you think?” Tony waves his hand in front of Vision’s waistcoat much like the dancers did for the Iron Man the day before. “Are you all chucked all of a heapF at this fine tot-huntingG outfit I put him in?”

The question demands careful consideration, even if she already knows the answer, so Wanda steps back and makes a point of carefully inspecting the outfit. The fit is, unsurprisingly, impeccable, the colors have grown on her, melding into a palette that actually suits him remarkably well, not too audacious but providing a warm, friendly feel. It’s when she meets Vision’s timid gaze that the true wonder of the outfit chucks her all of heap. When he wears black, his eyes shine as the sole point of color, yet somehow, with the blue of his coat, his irises are positively lucid, mimicking the grandeur of the cerulean glass above. “I am.” A touch of color returns to Vision’s face. “You look jaunty, Vizh.”

Visions lips purse into flattery, albeit one drenched in insecurity. A small lift of his shoulders goes along with his quiet confession, “I feel like a bit like a peacock.”

Which seems fitting. A peacock who only just discovered its hue and a stuffed bird that doesn’t belong creating an awkward flock in amongst the chaos of the world. “I think it suits you.” A soft smile emerges on his face.

“Speaking of suiting him,” and the moment is wrecked by the battering ram that is Tony Stark, “would you believe-”

“Tony Stark!” Their conversation ends abruptly, displeasure latching to Tony’s mouth and dragging it into a deep frown, while Vision finally breathes normally under the lack of scrutiny. “Tony Stark!” The repeated yell is not the fawning or ecstatic screeches of his fans. It’s a challenge.  Tony whips around in search of the booming voice as it continues, “You should be paying attention so you can see the real future!” A dark-haired, bushy-bearded man stands on a platform with his arms held out to his sides, waving a tall, satin top hat through the air as he ascends towards the variegated glass ceiling. The platform itself is hoisted on a wooden frame, a second, less finely dressed man standing atop the thin beam near the pulley system. When Tony finally looks, the man bows before straightening into a proud stance. “People of this fine Exhibition, my name is Elisha Otis and today I want to show you a true feat of engineering.”

In amongst the curious hushed murmuring around them is Stark’s commentary “Oh boy, an elevator, like that’s new.”

“One that will improve your lives instead,” a flourish of his hat towards Tony’s stall leaves little question of his meaning, “of something created to exist as a mere mechanical flight of privileged fantasy.”

Whoever this man is, Wanda finds herself drawn to the confidence it takes to publicly come for Stark in his own arena. It’s also deeply satisfying how annoyed Stark is at the moment, desperately seeking a willing outlet for his ire. “He’s acting so damn proud of an elevator I could have made when I was ten.”

Robert Roberts, Vision once explained, stated it is the butler’s job to offer a response to his employer when no one else will, as a sign of respect. It is doubtful he would condone Vision’s un-emotive, “Yet you failed to do so.”

The dryness of Vision’s retort is doused with Tony’s vainglory. “Only because I was already busy with better innovations. You know I pay you to agree with me not bubble aroundH.”

Wanda keeps her eyes upwards, though she has no trouble imagining the faint smile that must be on Vision’s face, “I believe both are outlined in my contract.”

“Give a man fancy clothes for a day and he becomes a sassafras.”

An impatient, “Shut yer mouth,” comes from somewhere ahead of them and miraculously it actually works in silencing Stark.

“We cannot deny that the elevator has given humanity the potential to ascend into greatness.” Otis’ top hat comes to rest over his heart as his speech grows somber. “But there are risks to any innovation, the men, women, and children of the Lowell Mill show us this.” A dramatic, effective pause works as a spell, the feet of the crowd inching forward at the hope of escaping another tragedy brought on by a defective rope. “I believe we should no longer have to gamble with our lives in order to embrace the future.” The man tips his chin up to talk to the helper on the truss, “Cut it, my boy.”

Shouts of dismay mingle with tense excitement when the helper walks to the rope, brandishing an axe. Vision grips her hand like a vice and Wanda can’t breathe as she watches the axe slice through the only thing tethering this mad inventor to the world. Her hands ignite as the people around her scream.

And then all is silent.  

There is no wailing, no screaming, no whistles of the uniformed police. All focus is on the elevator and its maniacally grinning operator suspended in the air. “All safe, gentlemenI.” The man dons his hat, tipping the brim towards the crowd. “I present to you, the good people of this wondrous Exhibition, a self-locking mechanism for safer travel.” Thunderous applause fill every inch of the magnificent dome.

“That son of a bitch finally did it.” Tony's descent into indignant fixation is so quick and strong that Wanda can feel it pulsing in her own mind and ruining the thrill of what they just witnessed. "Vision," there isn't a moment's break for response, "I need it. Right now."

Vision cautiously proceeds in the face of Stark’s fervor, "I am certain Mr. Otis would be amenable to a contract to install his work for you."

It is a valiant effort at what would be deemed a normal, rational business response; however, every single one of them is aware this isn't what is wanted. "I'm sure he'd be tickled to do so." Vision's lack of response - not a single twitch of his face or shift in his stance - at the acidic drip in the comment is commendable. "No I want you to go over there and find out how he did it." The expression Vision gives is so foreign to his face it is almost farcical, but it is one Wanda recognizes, a prophetic disappointment that has been formed over eons, one her mother used on Pietro every time he claimed to not know why the neighbor was crying. "Come on, I promise I won't steal his thunder, I'm just curious."

"Mr. Stark we had an agreement."

Regardless of her personal views of Stark, she does have to give credit to the way he harnesses his audacity to get what he wants. "I believe we agreed that you could have a day off barring any emergencies and Vision," the two men make eye contact and the flight of Vision's resolve is visible in the millimeter sag of his shoulders, "If I don’t find out how that mechanism works, I might die."

"My apologies, Wanda," Vision’s fingers tighten gently around her hand as he bows his head, "I will be back momentarily."

She returns the pressure and provides a reassuring smile as well, "It's fine."

Tony shoos Vision away with a, "See, not a problem, go."

The self-satisfaction emanating from Stark only stokes her own, nigh constant irritation anytime he crosses her thoughts - an improvement that it is only irritation and not animosity. If she were to walk away now, it would only serve to distance herself from Stark and with Ultron's eyes no doubt already locked on her, that is not strategic, so she remains, trying to dredge up a topic of light conversation. She recalls some mention of Otis in the past, she thinks, though that evening her mind was drowning in the possibility of revenge.  Even more salient than that, is the awareness she has of the cutthroat and questionable practices of Stark, based primarily on rumors spread by bitter voices on the streets. "Do you actually think he's going to be told the answer?"

"Most definitely," pride fills his voice as they watch Vision shake the hand of the inventor, who is now safely back on the ground, "Elisha adores Vision, always tries to steal him away with pithy salaries."  Stark snorts as if it’s some sort of joke, all the while her eyes remain on the friendly, enthusiastic way the two men at the elevator are speaking and she wonders what Vision would do if he wasn't tied to Stark. "Now," the crash of Tony's voice forces her to pay attention to him, "Will Vision actually tell me the answer?" He shrugs, "He'll probably come back and say something like," the last time Stark attempted to mimic Vision's voice was offensive enough, it is no better now, "It's remarkably simple, I'm amazed no one else has thought of it before."

Wanda superimposes Vision's actual voice onto the comment and, even if she refuses to outwardly agree with Stark, wouldn't be surprised if that was the response when the butler came back. "So why even send him?"

"Because Vision is a handsy man." Wanda refuses to acknowledge the smarmy grin and expectant stare, even stepping slightly away in fear of Tony resorting to a nudge to get his graceless point across. Stark sighs loudly to make his disappointment clear. And then he moves on, "I'll just leave out a prototype, complain a bit about how it isn't working, and eventually he'll start fiddling."

The pride he has in his deception marks the extent to which she deems speaking to him has served its purpose. Wanda constructs a wall of polite, distant silence between them by keeping her eyes forward.  Her choice is respected for all of five seconds. "You know, Wanda," all pretension leaves the man's voice, a rare, reluctant honesty imbuing his words that piques her interest enough peer at him, "I've never." He struggles with whatever it is he wants to say. "It's been a long, long time since I've seen Vision so...loose, you know."

Loose as a descriptor for Vision is a stretch. No one would ever watch him for a day, a week, or even, she guesses, a year and use that word; however, she will concede that if he were a coil, lately he has been wound slightly looser, his smiles a bit freer, but only when they are alone. "When was the last time?" The question comes out before she can remember her personal vow to stop conversing with Stark.

"Probably the day I met-wait, no,” mischief lights up his body, gesticulating excitedly as he corrects himself, “the swan. He was fuming for weeks. I had no idea he could even be angry.”

Wanda checks to be sure Vision is still occupied in his own conversation, certain he wouldn’t approve of this topic. Not wanting to derail Stark, Wanda keeps her inquiry simple, “Oh?”

Glee vibrates in Stark’s throat, never leaving his mouth, fully understanding the wealth of information he holds and has the power to dole out. “Yeah, I’m serious, up until that swan, he just was so quiet. Never smiled, never joked. When he would appease my need for company it was always fairly one-sided conversations. You know how he is.” Stark gives her shoulder a conspiratorial shove and something between them shifts, an unasked for kinship forming between the sole members of a secret club for those who know real Vision. “But that magnificent feathered devil. It was like the challenge of it knocked something back in place. I finally saw a some of that scrawny kid I’d met at the university.” He’s speaks so wistfully it’s tempting to peek into his mind and relive with him the moment he met this stranger, except it feels perfidious to sidestep Vision’s decision to start over with a new life and a new identity. Thankfully the momentum of his thought continues, tracking back to the point of their conversation, “Then he met you and well, he’s been different, a good different, mostly.”  

It’s almost a compliment and far nicer than she imagined from Stark. Wanda’s mind is blank on how to respond. Unfortunately, this leaves Tony room to continue, “I don’t understand it, to be frank. Vision tried to explain last night, even likened it to how if Pepper had listened to naysayers like me she’d be married to Rockefeller right now. Granted,” any friendliness between them slips away as he affixes the blasé mask he wears so well, “I’ve never courted someone by putting them in a coma to seek revenge on someone else, but to each their own, I suppose.”

This Stark puts her on firmer footing, muscles tensing defensively at the flippant disregard. “I didn’t know that would happen.” For once he doesn’t talk, but the arch of his eyebrows and extended, direct eye contact with her speaks volumes of his continued dismissal of her honesty. What this man craves is power and influence, an inflated self-importance that demands his word be weighed heavier than everyone else’s. Wanda needles at his ego with a steady, “Your opinion on this doesn’t matter.”

“You’re right.” Expertly Stark wrests control from her, twisting her statement to his own argument. “If Vision wants to think you are the jammiest bit of jamJ, even with your abhorrent tactics, that’s his choice.” Wanda follows his gaze to the elevator and watches as Vision bids farewell to the inventor. “But let’s be clear,” his voice lowers, the gravity of the words clashing with the cheerful smile painted on his face, “anything like that happens again and I will eagerly fulfill my destiny and finish ruining your life. Understood?”

Wanda doesn’t need to fake the sincerity of her, “Yes.”  

“The prodigal son has returned!” Tony spreads his arms out wide to welcome Vision back. “What news from distant lands?”

“What Mr. Otis achieved is ingeniously simple,” his words are abuzz with revelation, distant in a way that suggests his mind is still back at the elevator looking up to study the solution. “Remarkable that no one had considered it before.”

The sideways glance from Stark briefly welcomes her back into the folds of the Vision Friend and Lover club, and to her horror, she feels a slight congeniality at the wily smirk on his face. “And the mechanism would be?”

Vision closes off his excitement, locking it behind an iron wall of secrecy. “I am certain if you were to visit his exhibition you would be able to apply deductive reasoning and scientific logic to parse out the solution.”

“You do know you’re supposed to be loyal to me, right?”

Stark’s attempt to guilt him is only half serious, knowing full well it won’t work but he seems to enjoy getting a rise out of Vision. Which he does with expertise, the butler bristling at the comment and preparing a, no doubt, sharply polite rebuff.  But if they are going to convince Ultron of anything today, this can’t keep going. Wanda intervenes, her hand sliding between Vision’s arm and chest, fingers closing around his bicep with a slight tug, “Vizh, you said we had a lot to see today.”

“I,” the axis of his attention tips towards her quicker than his mind, the shift in his words paced unevenly, “Yes, yes we have much to see. Mr. Stark, may I take my leave?”

Vision glances at Tony for some sort of dismissal and is met with a challenge tucked in the man’s lopsided grin, “Have you kissed her hand yet?” Under other circumstances, Wanda would take offense to the stilted, unenthusiastic method Vision uses to raise her hand, would likely internalize the delicate though emotionless press of his lips to her skin and the lack of steady eye contact they share. But Stark-mandated affection deserves to fall below the threshold of acceptability and she actually wishes Vision had been even more removed in his actions. The lack of passion doesn’t seem to faze Tony, his hands cupped over his heart in faux-delight, “Truly ambrosial. Now,” he waves his hand at Vision, “away with you and please, for the love of God, have fun, for once in your life.”

“Yes Sir.” Vision offers her his arm once more, his movements fluid and more affecting than the kiss to her hand, “Shall we find our chaperones?”

“I suppose we should.”

Said chaperones are less than ten feet away, Clint with his arms crossed and an easy tilt to his mouth and Natasha evokes the Grecian statues from the entryway with her cool and collected indifference.

“You all ready?” Clint’s enthusiasm is a welcome companion to their day, one that Wanda hopes to match and mirror.

“We are.” Wanda bends her arm just enough to draw Vision closer, at least as close as the stiff hoop of her skirt allows. “Where are we going first, Vizh?”

There is little doubt that the entirety of the day has already been mapped, timed, and solidified by the butler - in fact, if she were brazen enough to slip her hand inside his coat, she is certain she’d find an annotated map in his pocket. He still hesitates in answering, “I, um,” she follows his eyes and finds Clint staring directly at the closeness of their hips and Vision shuffles to the side until he receives a gesture of approval. “Um, I was thinking we could begin in the textile wing on the second floor. From my understanding, it is the least busy in the morning.”

“Sounds fascinating,” Natasha slides her arm through Clint’s and presents them with a convincingly vapid smile, “Let’s not forget our purpose today.” Firm nods from each participant in the ruse confirms they all know what to do, and Vision begins leading them through the palace hallways.

What she assumed would be a straight-line, purposeful stroll to the textile wing, turns out to be a meandering and informative journey. They stop frequently, sometimes to stare at their reflection (one that, though she won’t admit it, proves Natasha’s choice of clothing correct because they do look a dapper couple), learning about the strides Waller and Kreps took to construct the gildedK, painstakingly carved monstrosity of a mirror. There’s a pyramid made of cotton cord (“A truly novel approach to crafting rope.”), several hearths that are grander than even the ones Stark has in his homes, and Clint stops to test each settee and finely upholstered armchair they pass. The statues all have a story, whether a mythological and tragic love, or a fiercely won military victory, or a social testament to the evils of slavery, or even a bronze dog (“The sculpture decided to craft a new breed by mixing a Saint Bernard with an English Mastiff.”) that has become a bit of a celebrity within the first two days of the exhibition.

All of it is so otherworldly, bathed in the shimmering light coming through the glass panes but it’s only interesting insofar as Vision’s running narration is filled with vim, the conveyance of knowledge something he seems to relish. It’s charming. Almost distractingly so.

Yet the purpose of their day is never far from her mind, Natasha’s constant sweep of their surroundings pressuring Wanda into not becoming fully engrossed by the next story. Looking over her shoulder hasn’t seemed useful with the influx of bodies around them, so Wanda maintains a reach with her powers, brushing the minds around them at each display and in each new corridor. She tracks which ones are familiar, and within those, which ones come and go, and which remain conveniently on the same exhibition circuit.

By the time they finally reach the textile wing, Wanda has a firm idea of the presence of Ultron’s lackeys in the crowd. Two of their minds are currently centered on her, encouraging her to step closer to Vision as they join a crowd around a large wooden table-like structure.  The flat part of the thing has been flipped open, four men placing wooden blocks and stones inside the crevices. “It’s a chromolithograph,” Vision explains, “they’ve recently perfected printing on scarves in at least twenty colors at a time.”

“Fascinating.”

A broad, very distracting smile accentuates his enthusiastic nod, “Plate technology has been used for some time but the innovation in fabric printing in such detail is quite a novel and fascinating topic.” It really isn’t and yet she would willingly listen to a detailed explanation just to experience the rare, unapologetic enjoyment he gets from all of this. “Apparently, it took four months for them to craft this specific print of the Crystal Palace.”

Four months ago she had only just moved to the town where they met and had no notion of what was going to happen with the river and a kind, nicely dressed gentleman. “That’s a long ti-“

“How many do you count?” Natasha keeps her voice low each time she checks in with them, her eyes forward and a mock interest plastered on her face so that any observers assume she is whispering to her companions about the exhibit. The number of interruptions seems a bit much and very well timed to whenever their conversation is hitting a stride, almost as if the spy is playing a game only she knows the full rules to and, thus, is clearly winning. Wanda finds the best strategy is to just answer and move on as quickly as possible.

“Three.”

“Clint?”

“Three.” For all of the talk of not getting distracted by the day, Clint has spent the majority of his time expertly placing himself as close to Vision as possible, including at the moment, his shoulder wedging strategically between herself and the butler in an act to better converse with Natasha. “We got yellow feather,” the man’s bright hat ornament is far too conspicuous for trailing people, assuming the point is not to be noticed. “Suspenders,” a jacketless and portly man who joined them around the time they stopped to marvel at pearlescent china bowls with hand painted forget-me-nots, “and questionable pants over there,” a truly atrocious pair of robin’s egg trousers.

“There’s one more.” Vision has proven surprisingly adept at their mission, the furtiveness of his checking rivaling even Natasha, but this is the first time he’s disagreed with them. “The woman to Ms. Romanov’s left, roughly eight people down, in the white lace and silver threaded lilacs.”

Clint’s body is now firmly between them, forcing Vision to step to the side, apologizing to the woman next to him for the inconvenience. “When did she get there?”

“At the lighthouse bulb,” Natasha doesn’t miss a beat, answering before Vision can take all glory for the observation, “she’s been pretty distant and hard to spot.” The comment is half bragging and half absolving her pupils of their first incorrect answer. “You ever consider a change in career, Vision?”

Wanda has to look towards the ceiling to see Vision over Clint’s head. His demeanor remains aloof, just as instructed by Natasha, even while his words are anything but that, “I see no need. Our careers involve similar skill sets, except mine is far less susceptible to ending with a charge of treason.”

Natasha’s eyebrows lift at the statement while she inspects a speck of fuzz on her glove. “Bold words for a man complicit in so many of Stark’s dirty deeds.”

The comment isn’t a threat or accusation, per se, tonally more similar to the banter between two professionals often heard in taverns. Wanda doubts Vision appreciates the yoking of their livelihoods together, “I,” but his self-preservation and intelligence mean he swallows his disapproval, “touché, Miss Romanov.”

In front of them, one of the men holds a silken scarf high for the crowd. The milky fabric comes alive with colors so perfectly chosen that Wanda actually feels the same awe looking at the replication of the Crystal Palace as she does staring at the actual structure. She joins the crowd in politely clapping for the display. “Okay,” Clint steps forward, spinning around to stare at the three of them as he talks, “Vision, what’s next?”

“There is a newly patented duplex lathe two booths away.”

“Yeah, no,” Clint’s lips quirk into mild dismay at the idea, “as delightful and practical as that sounds, take it from a seasoned professional and let’s go find something a bit more romantic, okay?”

Wordlessly Vision evaluates the opinions around him, face unreadable other than the hint of beseechment in his eyes. “I-” she isn’t sure what to tell him and knows her silence is louder than she intends it to be, “Um, there is,” Vision reaches into his coat pocket and removes a square of paper, the edges pressed into sharp creases that he unfolds in front of them. As she suspected, the map is marked with his pristine handwriting. “There is a display of glass just at the end of this nave and three booths from that is where the Tiffany companyL has a case of what have been called truly exquisite pearls.” Everything he says meets the qualifications of romance she believes Clint is functioning on, but the fetching enthusiasm of before no longer resides in his voice.

“Perfect!”  Clint claps a hand to Vision’s shoulders, “Lead the way!”

The booths pass without narration as Vision cuts a path through the increasingly dense crowd, his hand gripping hers as they walk in a single file, snaking line. It takes them almost ten minutes of standing before they get close to the glass display, yet when it happens, Wanda understands the appeal. She’s been in fancy homes, only been invited to eat at two, but whenever there are guests the fine china and glass is laid out, brimming with sumptuous foods. No one, not even Stark, has ever had something like this. It’s just a sugar bowl, except it is cut to resemble a diamond, the clearest, most intricate pedestal-shaped diamond she’s ever seen. It even reflects the light around them in a way that rivals the Crystal Palace itself. Begrudgingly she admits, to herself, it is really romanticM. “The Brooklyn Flint Glass Company has been experimenting with a process to remove the oxide iron from the sand, which results in the full removal of color from the glass.”

“It’s gorgeous.”

Vision nods, squeezing her hand before walking to the other side of the bowl.  He bends down to inspect the cuts, which sends his face into distortion behind the numerous edges and slants of the glass. “Rumor has it they will be awarded a silver medal.”

“How are those decided?”

“Hey Wanda!” Clint waves her over from another booth, “Come here.” She rolls her eyes at yet another intrusion, sending an apologetic sigh towards Vision, who, being a very good sport, simply nods, lips tight and eyes only somewhat downtrodden as she walks away.

There’s a glass case filled with pearl necklaces, earrings, and a bracelet. Each piece has to be worth more than her entire life earningsN. Aesthetically and objectively it’s all very pretty. It’s also unable to keep her interest. She’s aware Clint is making comments about being lucky to be courted by wealth and how she might get wear one of these, there might an innuendo or two, but Wanda doesn’t pay much attention, nodding her head and saying hmm and yes as Clint shows her the case. Her eyes wander away frequently, partly to follow Natasha’s orders but mostly to track Vision, hoping to find an opening to speak with him away from their chaperones.

The chance comes when he steps beyond a booth heaped high with gloves and scarves. “Excuse me.” Wanda leaves Clint without explanation, flicking her finger to send a strong desire into his mind to show Natasha the pearl brooch in front of him. This leaves her enough time to exit the booths towards the balcony where Vision stands, body impolitely leaned forward on the wooden rail as he stares at the vast expansive of archways and floors lined with inventors, entrepreneurs, and kitschy souvenirs.

She runs her palm up between his shoulder blades, enjoying the way his muscles move beneath her touch and how it contrasts with the immutable plate of metal fastened along his spine. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

Sometimes she can’t tell if his questions are genuine or out of politeness, ignorance a sign of manners that Wanda has never bought into. “I doubt this is how you imagined the day going.”

A shrug and a smile remind her of how, even though he thrives under order, Vision is a fairly easy going man, blessedly so. “It is slightly different from my expectation, but still enjoyable.” He leans into her touch, shoulder brushing against hers as he speaks frankly, “It will be more enjoyable once we reach phase two.”

Phase two is meant to start after they break for lunch, Clint insistent he not be left alone to enjoy the smash being touted as divineO. Other than extend their time as a quartet, there really is no reason to follow the timeline down to the minute. “We could start it early.”

“Are you hungry?” It’s the voice of a butler, concerned about missing signs of need and this failing at his job.

“No. I meant we could maybe make a new plan, one without our chaperones nearby.”

It takes three seconds for her comment to translate, the meaning clearing up as his face sifts through how to respond. “We spent a lot of time on the plan.” His dissent isn’t convincing, particularly when his voice ends in an uptick, as if he is asking her if it is a good enough reason to stay the course.

Wanda pushes forward, rubbing a circle into his back as she strategizes, “Wouldn’t it be more convincing if we just slipped away?”

He glances over his shoulder, far better at remembering to do so than her, “I am certain if we informed Miss Romanov and Mr. Barton they would acquiesce.”

“Where’s the fun in getting permission?”

If she had to hazard a guess, that phrase has probably never been uttered by the man next to her. “We are safer as a quartet.”

That was the main tilt of the insistence they all stay close, and it’s not a misguided belief. Wanda leans heavier against his arm, voice quieting so the ears around them can’t hear everything, “I don’t think any of them will try anything.” An honest assessment based on her own time as one of Ultron’s disciples. “But if they do,” she brings her hand to his jaw, directing his face towards her with a subtle flicker of red, “I can protect us.”

There is not an immediate rebuttal, his eyes locked with hers and his apprehension slowly melting away. He steps back with another look over his shoulder and then straightens out, hands fixing the fall of his coat as he turns around, her own body following his lead. “Miss Romanov, Mr. Barton.”

Clint clicks his tongue in disappointment, “Looked like my HAF rule was being broken.” Hands, arms, and face. The only acceptable locations of physical contact between them, or so Natasha informed her this morning while shoving hairpins dangerously into her braids. Vision slides a bit to the right to avoid further reprimand.  “That’s better.”

“I’d like to keep moving,” Natasha’s voice lacks the paternalistic good-naturedness of Clint’s, an oddly welcome reprieve. “I think three more exhibits and then we can find refreshments.”

The suggestion adds another hour to their time as a group. Vision nods, eyes and body betraying nothing of his thoughts, making her hands itch to dive into his head. “I believe we should move on to the Colt exhibition.”

No one disagrees, and Wanda’s heart drops at the tacit acceptance of maintaining the course of the day. They walk down the crowded stairs to the ground floor, cross in front of a brass band playing a happy tune, and end up at a glass case. On first glance it is a simple, pleasing arrangement akin to the foreign, whimsical foliage often seen in paintings lining the walls of museums, but as they step closer, the pointed petals of the central flowers go from curved silver lines into the barrels of pistols. The rounded, brown blooms are gun powder flasks, engraved with scenes of hunting and sportsmanship. Their companions flock to it, even Natasha’s face cracking into one of pleasure at the deadliness before her. For the first time that day, the only eyes on them are the hidden watchers of Ultron.

“You,” Wanda grabs onto Vision’s arm, tugging him gently backwards from their engrossed chaperones, “are a brilliant man.”

“Thank you.”

“Come on,” she starts walking, instilling her steps with a confidence she has no right to possess, and keeps her hold on Vision so that he follows. Five feet and she looks back, neither of their companions noticing anything is amiss. Fifteen feet and she sees Natasha’s head begin to turn. Wanda flexes her powers to convince the woman to look down at the muskets in the bottom display, at how elegant and lethal they are. At that point Wanda leads Vision into the crowd, not stopping to check on him or answer the question she can feel blooming in his mind, statutes, mirrors, and glass cases moving past until they reach the feet of the Iron Man. “Rhodes?”

The man pops his head out from behind the machine, an easy friendliness curving his lips up as he wipes his hands down with a rag. “Having fun, you two?”

“We are.” Wanda loops her arm more firmly with Vision’s, pulling him closer than he’s been allowed to stand all day, “Are you still willing to be a gooseberry picker?”

Friendliness morphs into a conspiratorial glee. “What do you want me to tell them?”

“That we are,” the plan was clear, the first part of the day they stay together, the second part of the day they split up, without actually separating, merely increasing the distance. Clearly the plan is moot now, but a new one hasn’t quite formed. “Vizh, where do you want to go?” He hesitates and Wanda can feel Natasha’s mind register their absence, and so she tries to urge him into a decision. “What do you want to see the most here?”  His hand starts to move for the map, except they really don’t have time for a consultation. “We need to choose some place. Right now.”

“The um,” Vision scans the branching corridors of the Palace, “the east nave.”

Rhodes winks at them, “So I’ll just let them know you went into the west nave, okay?”

“Thank you.”

This time she allows Vision to guide them through the people on the main floor, his shoulders breaking through the distracted onlookers until they reach a wing vibrating with energy—the screeching of steam waltzing with the whir of gears to the tune of pistons thrumming in joy. It reminds her of the factory, of her parents, of running through the smoke, screaming out Mama and Papa. “This is where I would have been presenting,” each soothing dip of his voice draws her back to the present, to the nervous sincerity sending his eyes bouncing along her face and the mournful curve of his mouth, “had my life gone differently.”

“Vision-”

“I know it is not terribly romantic, if you would prefer Genin’s Bazaar is only a floor away.”

Wanda blinks the last of her memories away, holding them at bay so she can focus on what he’s offered her—a rare, unasked for (though wholly welcomed) invitation into a life he claims to have sent to the grave. “Clint and I have different ideas of romance. I want to see everything here.” A brilliant, gracious smile sends her heart fluttering and she allows temptation (and a lack of chaperones) to win as she rises up to kiss his cheek, hoping her gratitude is palpable to him. “Come on,” she pats his chest two times before squaring her shoulders with the hall, “don’t spare me any details.”

No details are spared, each machine lovingly described, from threaded screws to arc lamps, direct and alternating currents and the difference between smooth and jagged toothed rows in steam engines, they even manage to find a threshing machine and his face lights up, “It is the same model my father owned.”

The sheer, unmitigated confidence he exudes as he walks her around is far, far more breathtaking than a necklace made of a hundred perfect pearls or a sugar dish that sparkles like a diamond. It’s not even just the way his hand moves over hers as he demonstrates the gentle pressure the gears of a tiny lathe have to exert as they brush together that makes her realize how warm this part of the Palace is, but it is also the interest and specificity he puts into his questions, inquiring of each and every inventor about their machine. All of it is alien to her, the language unlike what she heard on the streets, or in her tent, or at the fancy séance parties, or even growing up with factory parents, but it flows from his tongue as if he has been speaking it since he was born. After he thanks an elderly gentleman for the enlightening display of a self-refueling gaslamp, Wanda allows her curiosity into the open. “Did you learn all of this at University?”

Vision chuckles (an unknown sound until today) at the question, “No, well some of it.” They walk past another gaslamp and he ignores it to keep answering her question. “I began working in factories when I was quite young.”

“How old?”

“Around eight.”

Wanda stops walking to stare at him, unconcerned with the angry words of the people behind her. “Eight?” There’s nothing actually unusual about this, a common practice in her youth and now, yet she can barely imagine him as a child, much less he in a factory covered in grease and sweat.

“I was only there a half day,” he, unlike her, is unperturbed by his experience, “the rest of my day was spent at the parish learning arithmetic and literacy.”

As an expert in dancing around the truths of her life, Wanda can see all of what he’s not saying, a sadness buried deep in the center of his eyes. “When did you move to full days?”

He lays a hand to her shoulder and guides her into a space between two booths, freeing up the walkway for people to pass. “When my mother-” the first crack in his emotions is small and he recovers quickly, “fell ill, I left my lessons and worked both her shift and my own.”

“When did she…” Wanda can’t say the rest, but the question is clear as is the sorrow weighing down his face.

“She passed two days before my twelfth birthday. Consumption.” He shrugs, expertly detaching himself from the pain of the memory, leaving it to hang on the wall next to them where he can step back and nod as he examines it. “I moved to London soon after and rotated between factories. It may be difficult to believe,” the joviality in his voice is jarring, the opposite of her own feelings right now, “but I was far taller than the other youth and thin enough to fit inside most machinery.  When your life depends on fixing the issue without being crushed by gears or impaled on levers, you pick up on a fair amount of the inner workings.”

She understands he is answering her initial question, and if he had only shared with her the time he spent in factories she imagines she’d playfully call him a factory rat and muse on how unexpected that is based on his demeanor and standing in the present. Instead her mind is fixated on a boy who lost his father at three and mother at eleven. He’d told her he had no family to miss him when he left with Stark, it was part of what made his decision to start anew easier. She’d just never actually considered what that meant. “You’ve been alone since you were twelve.”

“I, um, I suppose so,” this isn’t what he thought she’d ask about, his hands clasping nervously while his mouth hangs partially opened in thought, “it is not uncommon or more harrowing than others. You also have been without your parents for some time.”

And it has been miserable, but not always lonely. “I had Pietro until three years ago.”

Vision stares at her hand as she reaches out to him, intertwining their fingers. “I wasn’t always alone,” he doesn’t need to comfort her, to explain away her sympathy or his experience, yet he does so anyway, seeming to need to right the wrong of his sharing. “I did foster several relationships with temporary caregivers, mainly shift heads and foremen at the factories, I made friends at university. And I have Mr. Stark,” a pause and a gentle rise of the corner of his mouth suddenly puts Tony into a light she’d refused to acknowledge through her hatred, “he is a perhaps the closest to family I’ve found.”

“An eccentric uncle, maybe?” He laughs and the shroud of his revelations falls away, bringing them back to standing between hissing machines under the blinding daylight above. “Is there anything here you’ve worked on?”

“There is the-”

She doesn’t need the ability to read minds in order to predict his facetiousness, “Don't you dare be cheeky and say the Iron Man.”

This silences his comment, amusement remaining on his face as he pulls out the map again and inspects it. “There might be something on the third floor.”

“Great, let’s go.”

Her enthusiasm isn’t fully matched during their journey towards the back stairway, in fact with each step upwards his body seems to slow, uncertainty replacing the confidence she’d been admiring all day. “Before we continue,” his eyes roam the faces beyond her shoulder, far less calculated and hidden then when he checks for their still ever-present followers, “would you mind checking booth twenty-three to see if it is occupied?”

“Of course,” she untangles her arm from him, “if there is no one there I can send you a quick sign” a pulse of her powers taps at his mind, “like this?”

“That seems most efficient.”

There is a half flight more of stairs and then the booth can’t be more twenty or thirty feet away, not a long or particularly treacherous journey, except it requires she leave him alone and unguarded, and suddenly their master plan to shirk the decorum of their chaperones seems irrational. Wanda tracks the minds around them, finding two of the men peppered throughout the stalls on this floor and the yellow feathered hat is still on the stairs below. “Okay.” Wanda does her best to smile convincingly at Vision as she walks away, trying to reassure herself that she has been on numerous reconnaissance jobs for Ultron and the main rule was to never interfere. Interference destroyed a plan, unraveling the web so intricately crafted to get information. Destroyed plans led to anger and no one is safe when Ultron is angry. There is no reason they’d do anything to Vision right now. She hopes.

Booth twenty-three is empty when she arrives save a red satin banner with black letters strung between the wooden posts. No half full cups or lukewarm meals provide signs of recent occupation. Wanda reaches out to the minds around her, searching for any information on the person who should be here, a difficult task given she has no idea who this person is. After nothing alarming or suggestive turns up, she drops her hand into the folds of her skirt to flick a tendril of scarlet out to Vision’s mind.

“Ultron is impressed.” Despite the humidity in the air, goosebumps sprout along her arms and she clamps her fingers shut, extinguishing the strand of red.

Next to her is the woman in white, the silver-accented lace swishes against the front of the booth and her blonde hair cascades softly over her shoulder as she inspects the contents on the table. “Does that mean he’ll finally meet with me?”

Dainty lace gloves hug her hands, a fascinating and alluring contrast to the steel contraption she’s touching. “If you can bring him the plans for the Iron Man.”

She knows the way Ultron works, has delivered this sort of message before but now that she is on the other side of the exchange, all Wanda what’s to do is scream. If she brings the plans, next it will be the Iron Man itself, then the arc reactor plans, and all the while Ultron will have already begun implementing the endgame of his actual strategy. “I can get it from,” she almost says Vision, almost decimates her cover by being too personal, so she overcorrects, spitting out the descriptor like sour milk, “the butler, but only if Ultron meets me himself.”

“Will the butler be a sufficient source for the information?” The woman frowns at a spot of grease on her gloves and attempts to wipe it on the tablecloth. “Tony Stark is notorious for his technological secrecy.”

Spiritualism and espionage are predicated on a foundation of showmanship, each requiring the skill to take known information, pad it in a way that obscures the actual truth and presents it as something grander. Much like people who insist on wrapping tiny gifts in large boxes. “The butler’s knowledge of the Iron Man May be better than Stark’s.”

The oil stain is forgotten and the woman beams down at Wanda, a look more at home on a tiger preparing to pounce. “Tomorrow, your usual spot, half past ten. If you come without the plans, you will be dealt with accordingly.”

“I’ll have the plans.”

“Excellent.” Ultron’s associate hitches up her skirt, gripping the excessive fabric in her gloves, and nods at Wanda as if they have just had a jolly chat. “Enjoy your fetching plaything for the rest of the day.”

Wanda waits until the crowd has swallowed up the last silver strand of her dress before checking the booth once more and the surrounding area for signs of whomever should be excitedly explaining the contraption in front of her. Then she drops her hand and sends the signal to Vision, relief loosening the tension in her body when she feels his approach.

He is at her side quickly, hands jittery and voice strained. “Is everything okay, Wanda?”

Had she been waiting on the stairs for a sign, ignorant of everything but the increasingly long minutes, she imagines she’d have the same worried lines at her eyes. “Yes,” a hand to his arm drives home the dismissal of his worries, “there was someone here,” yet her quelling comment only seems to stoke his apprehension, several Natasha-approved glances resulting from the explanation. “So, what is this thing, exactly?”

The distraction works beautifully, his attention back to her and voice marginally reinvigorated. “This,” he points to a tiny metal contraption that could easily fit in the palm of her hand, “is a particle engine.”

“Does it actually work?”

Pride eases a fraction more of his nerves, “It does. Mr. Pym believed the future of technology was in small-scale devices that allowed for mobility.” He picks up a magnifying glass from the table and holds it over the engine, a hand to her back encouraging her to look more closely at the recognizable structure. Other than its size, it looks just like the engine they stopped to marvel at eight booths ago. “I doubt it is powerful enough to replace any true engines yet.”

“But it’s still impressive.”

“Yes.” Under the magnifying glass the tremble of his hand becomes noticeable, fingers struggling to grip the machine and turn it on its side, “This,” he attempts to point at a small coil inside, “is what I had been working on for Mr. Pym, it is an induction coil, a specific type of electromagnetic coil.” A pause and a quirk of his lips segues into the rest of his explanation. “Induction coil is a bit of a misnomer as it is actually a two-coil system. One vibrates to induce an electrical current and then this,” she’s not sure what he’s pointing at since his finger is the same size as the coil system, “is an interruptor, it, well, interrupts the vibration at set intervals and helps to transmit the direct current to the secondary coil.”

Wanda understands the individual words while struggling with the full meaning. What isn’t difficult to grasp is the intelligence and skill it takes to craft something like this, “This is really amazing, Vizh.”

“It is.”

Wanda stares at him in her periphery, trying to gauge what he’s thinking without intruding. Melancholy resides on his face, mouth descending slightly the longer he holds the engine. “Who is Mr. Pym?”

This question only sends his lips deeper into a frown, “Mr. Pym owned one of the factories I worked at. He also sponsored my seat at university.”

From her understanding, at least based on the students employed at the lab where they experimented on her, it is mandatory to take employment with whomever pays for your education. Even for her, there was an agreement that if the experiments worked, Pietro and her were committed to the organization for up to five years, depending on their performance. “Why did you interview with Stark if you were sponsored by someone else?”

Vision places the machine back on the table, wiping his gloved hand along the sides of his pants while shifting his attention to her, a polite smile on his face. “Mr. Pym encouraged it, actually. He and Mr. Stark are fierce rivals.”

Perhaps Natasha’s suggestions from earlier wasn’t so far off. “So, you were a spy then?”

“A poor one,” the admission makes her snort. “I am being sincere. I informed Mr. Stark of my affiliation with Mr. Pym prior to accepting the invitation. Providing such information seemed to persuade more than dissuade him. You,” his mood drops, the glimmer of the man he was prior to the fire folded up like the map in his pocket and slid away, “well, you know what happened next.”

“I do.” There is a niggle of unease in her mind, something about the situation, about his logic and decision making, about the disconnect in the stories he’s told and the way the world works that feels desperately wrong. She checks over his shoulder and discovers an partial explanation for her concern in the shocked face of a man several booths away, his bespectacled eyes wide and skin ashen, a sight typically seen around a séance table around the time the candlesticks start floating. “Pym thinks you’re dead.”

“He does.” There’s not a shred of regret in his response, only a confidence that this was the correct and inevitable decision. The picture of that life no longer merely hanging on a wall in front of them but nailed up on a shelf that is across a chasm, one Vision has formed between himself and that life, that man, the people who cared about him, a disinterest that she imagines has been reinforced and practiced over the years.

Wanda grabs his hand, staring hard at his face as she whispers, “Well there’s a man behind you who looks like he’s seen a ghost.” Now there are two hauntings at the booth, Vision’s carefully built facade draining away. “Vision?”

“We should move on to the Latting Observatory before it becomes dark.”

“Vizh?”

The man begins to move towards them and Vision’s terrified, desperate, “Please,” spurs her into action, the crowd around them parting with a scrunch of her fingers and she guides him through the gap, encouraging the bodies behind them to close and become intensely interested in Pym’s booth. They walk briskly down the stairs, his strides faltering on several steps yet he refuses her offers to slow down or take a break, urging her to keep going until they have crossed the street toward the towering wooden structure of the observatory, it’s spire reaching high into the sky. “Vision.”

“The observatory is considered the first skyscraper to be constructed, reaching three hundred and fifteen feet in height, making it the tallest structure currently in the United States.”

“Vision.”

His hand trembles under her fingers, the only physical sign of his disquiet. “Mr. Otis has installed a second exhibition elevator as a way to ensure the elderly and infirm may partake of the wondrous panorama that can be seen from the top.”

“Vision,” she turns his face towards her and his eyes are that of a man that’s been shoved out onto a bridge over a gaping chasm, one that sways with each step, betraying the frayed and dangerously insecure ropes. “Stop being a walking brochure for one second.” A tiny, forced smile only increases her concern. “I take it that was Pym?”

It’s the wrong topic to broach, the insecure smile fading and his posture straightening out. “I am happy,” a word that is not being used genuinely at the moment, “to discuss this later this evening,” something she does believe, though recognizes his reluctance in agreeing to it, “but,” his eyes scan the faces around them, “for now I believe we need to continue our day, lest you lose ground gained in persuading people of your power over myself and Mr. Stark.”  

What he says is inarguably true, even though Ultron has bought into her influence in the Stark household, if they leave now, it could chip away at the visage of Wanda leading him blindly into the dark, “Fine,” just because she’s agreeing with him does not mean she’ll hide her displeasure, filling her words with the undercurrent that this topic will be picked up later, “let’s go up this tower.”

“Very well, we can even stop on the second floor for refreshments.” A suggestion that leads to the realization of how hungry she is, having skipped the scheduled lunch hour, “From my understanding the saloon for women has both soda and ice cream.”

The plan seems workable until they discover the small detail of the elevator still being under construction. A gruff, bearded man shrugs at them as they stare at the barricaded doors. “There are stairs, ya know.”

“Thank you,” Wanda moves towards the spiral staircase but her arm meets resistance when Vision doesn’t follow. “Are the stairs segregated by sex as well?”

He shakes his head, tongue darting out to wet his lips as she watches the mask of feigned joviality crack, each piece flaking to the ground as his mood plummets. “No, I-” Wanda steps towards him, the only other time she’s seen his feelings bared so openly and uncontrollably was when he was laying in his bed, disparaging his existence. “I cannot physically go up right now, I-” his eyes close and she doesn’t know if it is in pain, in embarrassment, in frustration, whether he is trying to blot out tears or simply wishes to shut out the world for a moment. “Mr. Stark has been very demanding the past few days and ,” his voice drops so only she can barely hear the rest, “I, I just can’t do it right now.”

A wisp of scarlet to his mind reveals thousands of pinpoints of pain, all racing up his body and congregating in the center of his mind, screaming at the thought of walking up 315 feet of spiral stairs. She feels guilty at never considering the physical toll the day might have on him, at never once contemplating how his body responds or handles things she had the luxury to not think about. Then she is angry for missing any signs, for not asking him about his comfort or well-being. “We don’t have to do this today.”

“No, you should go up.” It’s a firm statement, one unwilling to take refusals or other offers, “I will sit over on that bench,” a shaky finger directs her to the aforementioned resting place, “you should be able to see me the entire climb and then can wave at me from the top.” An unexpected and carefully constructed cheerfulness underlies the words. Hands loosely curve around her upper arms in a lazy embrace, his eyes sincere and apologetic as he lays the final thrust of his persuasion, “Please, Wanda, do not let me keep you from enjoying this.”

Nothing demands she go up the tower, her enjoyment is not controlled by panoramic views or ice cream and soda in a fancy saloon. All she wants right now is to be with him. What she also needs is to remove any question in his mind as to whether she agrees with his negative view of himself. “No, I don’t want to go up without you.”

“I can’t, Wanda.”

“If I go up there alone, I’ll have no idea what I’m looking at, just nameless buildings and rivers and trees,” a faint, very faint, smile flirts with his mouth, “I’d rather wait for the guided tour, even if it’s not for a week or more.”

Vision’s shoulders sag, whether in relief or defeat or maybe relieved defeat, “Then what shall we do now?”

Given he is the one asking for once means whatever else he had concocted for their day is inaccessible in his current state. Which is fine, all of the excitement and wild inventions in the world could never rival just sitting with him and basking in his presence. “Why don’t we find some place and just sit?” His eyes move to the bench he had already scoped out and Wanda rephrases the suggestion, “somewhere secluded, perhaps? I'm sure Clint and Nat are going to show up soon and I’d rather not deal with that right now.”

His face sets into a concentrated scowl, scanning the area as his encyclopedic mind ticks through the mental map of the Exhibition. “The Virginia is not too far and is unoccupied until this evening.”

“Perfect.”

The walk to the steamboat is slow, not in a purposefully delightful meandering sort of way, no, it’s as if the acknowledgment of his pain has conjured up a thousand-pound wraith that sits on his shoulders. Wanda tries to ignore her concerns, trusting his ability to decide if he needs to stop or can push on until they can rest. They make it to the boat and she watches as he fumbles with a ring of keys that any person who has ever had an ill thought towards Stark would love to have, his entire life and property represented in the iron and bronze clatter.

Inside, and with the main door locked to keep out other intruders, the ship holds a different character from its riotous other life. Still ostentatious in its opulence, still impressively magnificent in size, and majestic in the finer details of the railings, carpet, sconces, and furniture, but now it’s peaceful, a slumbering giant awaiting the next invasion of hoop skirts and four piece suits. “I just realized I never offered you a tour, the other day.”

Somehow he can never fully disrobe the responsibility of his job, leaving Wanda to remove the last vestige of it herself. “You’re exhausted.”

“That-” The spark of defiance dies on his face, his body begrudgingly accepting her statement, “I am. Wanda, I apologize profusely.”

Wanda allows him full view of her eye roll. “Vizh, stop.” She looks around for signs of other occupants, powers spreading out across the boat to confirm it really is just the two of them. “Come here.” She grabs his hand, tugging him easily across the wooden beams of the floor until they reach a large chaise lounge located under the painting of candlesticks she had admired the last time she was here. “We can rest until someone finds us.”

Temptation wages a war with rationality on his face, his mind working through whether it is better to accept the offer or suggest another option. Smartly he decides on the path of least resistance. “We can.” He pauses when she sits down, watching with interest as she settles her back along the headboard of the lounge and crosses her legs under the enormous cloud of her skirt. Wanda decides to make her intentions even clearer by patting her lap, “Are you certain this is acceptable? I know this is likely not what you expected from the day.”

“We haven’t been completely alone once today,” she throws him the largest, sunniest smile she can, hoping the light of her encouragement sears away the last of his hesitation. “Come and lay down, I really don’t mind.” Vision partially accepts the offer, sitting rather stiffly next to her, hands placed firmly on his knees. It’s the soft, pained wince shuttering his eyes that ignites her powers, threads of scarlet wrapping around his arm and nudging him closer. “You can ditch your hat and gloves and lay down. I swear I won’t tell anyone so your reputation can remain unsullied.”

Finally his stubbornness fractures, a sound somewhere between a laugh and sigh tipping his body back, her hands removing his top hat before she guides him into her lap. The sight of his blonde hair and anxious eyes being devoured by her skirt reminds her of falling backwards into a snowdrift.  “Wanda, if you are ever in discomfort…”

“I’ll tell you, as long as you do the same.”

“I will.”

“Now relax.” Whenever she had a nightmare, her mother would always lay with her, her hands running soothingly through Wanda’s hair. Even Pietro did it, especially after particularly distressing missions. Wanda figures it can’t hurt to try. When she touches his forehead, his breath releases, the brush of her fingertips easy and light as she traces the lines of his face. His eyes close, losing some of their prior tension and she peeks at his mind, briefly, to ensure he is enjoying this and not just humoring her.

There is a weariness woven in his thoughts and a deep, unshakeable discomfort permeating every part of his body that work in tandem to pull him down away from happiness. It’s a feeling she recognizes in herself, a specter of hopelessness squeezing itself around her, suffocating her whenever she thinks of the past or longs for a future. She never thought she’d find it in him though, for some reason, his actions and words always so gentle and well-planned. But she’s seen his scars, witnessed the horrors of his life, and felt the anger and despair of his words when he was at his weakest.  It shouldn’t be surprising that those thoughts remain despite his perennially mild tempered manner. His mind shifts slightly, a droplet of peace invading the weariness, one that follows the pattern of her touch.

A smile crawls across her face as an idea forms. “Vizh.”

“Hmm?”

“I think I know how to show you,” her voice breaks, the spell of tranquility shattered as his blue eyes pop open and peer quizzically at her, “what I can do. What you wanted me to do to you,” it’s a bad idea, one she wants to take back even if her voice keeps going, “last night.”

Apprehension mars his forehead, the wrinkles forming in his skin parting around her fingers. “Only if you are comfortable with it.”

From the moment her powers developed, she’d only been encouraged to use them maliciously, to tear apart the foundations of sanity and rationality in order to thrive. It took time and practice to even recognize the usefulness of her telekinesis in everyday life or the peacefulness it brought to be linked telepathically to a welcoming, loving mind. There’s no reason she can’t apply the same methods for good as she did ill. “Just close your eyes,” two long seconds pass before he obeys. “Good, now think of something tranquil.”

Images blink in and out of existence, a rapid succession of memories that leaves her only with a sense of unattached serenity, until finally he stops, the steady patter of rain echoing through his mind. Wanda’s perplexed at his choice but she accepts it, not wanting to ask him to change, her eyes closing as she drowns herself in his memory in search of what she needs. The rain whispers around her, attempting to share its wisdom in the dimly lit room. The pulse in his temple, just beneath her hands, evens out to the tempo of the droplets. There are other sounds too. A laugh, airy and amused, followed by a murmur that carries with it a cadence typically reverberating in the corners of music halls where giddy declarations of love occur. The memory clarifies more, an image of a sheet beneath a scarred hand holding a pen and instantly she recognizes the night they first kissed, his constant, cheeky questions about her tarot cards sending her into fits of laughter. Wanda can feel a blush blooming up her neck and her heart soaring out of her chest at the wave of sheer, unadulterated joy of the memory.

“Keep it there for me.”

His, “Okay,” is tipsy and unrefined.

The key to mental assassination is to never impose a new emotion - people far too attuned to their feelings. If she had tried to drop self-consciousness into Stark’s mind, the charade would have been up before it even began. No, the best way to handle it is to treat it much like her séances and hand readings, find the true, unfiltered beliefs and make them more prominent. If grief exists, she’d pull it to the forefront of the mind, feed it trickles of hopeless reassurance, bathing the mind in the hypotheticals that could have erased it, but that this person failed to do. This continues until there are literally no other thoughts or emotions, just the overwhelming, inescapable loneliness of loss. The principles should be the same, even without the intention of harming the mind. Wanda plucks at the strand of contentment holding Vision’s memory together, and nurtures it with her powers, slowing down the memory, replaying it in his mind. It starts to work, the nagging exhaustion just a little less, though still too strong of a presence.

Scarlet shimmering around her hands, Wanda draws his happiness into physicality, her index finger leading it down his nose, which garners a brief twitch of his face and a surge of euphoria in his mind. She repeats it, this time jumping from the tip of his nose to his lips, barely glancing his skin as she adds in her other fingers to trail up along his cheek, trying to ignore the way the faint hairs of his sideburns tickle, and then she ends at his forehead. There is a lazy, unabashed upturn to his mouth, one that she’s never seen on his face, a peace she suspects is foreign to both of them. Wanda continues, her hand reversing the pattern each time she returns to his forehead.

The crash of his emotions is welcomed and reciprocated, the imperfections of his skin (like the scar she feels along his hairline) are being imprinted into the memory of her hands, and the soft, wispy sighs that float through the air each time he flinches at the ticklish spot just below his ear consumes her thoughts until there is nothing but the two of them in existence. It’s a bliss she’s never known.

“How are you feeling?”

Her hands don’t stop as his mind wrestles itself partially from her hold to consider his response, never willing to speak without some thoughtfulness.  “Logically, I know I must still be in pain since I always am,” a pause brings about a burr to his mind, one she smooths out with a sweeping pass along his cheek, “but all I actually feel,” now his eyes open, even upside down his features are stunning, particularly in such a relaxed state, “is you.”

For so long the only thing her powers could ever be were a curse, a pox upon her name damning her to living hell. There is no fear in the blues of his eyes, no wrinkle of discomfort in his mind at her presence, just a genuine, surprisingly unhesitant pleasure at her presence. She doesn’t deserve this adoration. At the same time, she vehemently refuses to give it away.

Wanda bends forward, her hands coming to cup his face as she lays a tender kiss to his forehead, that gives way to words she didn’t realize were on the tip of her tongue, “I adore you.”

A flare of gold in his mind sears away the last patter of rain and the only thing that remains is the silent ardor of his requited feelings. “Wanda, I-” She kisses him again, this time properly, accepting his words before he’s done stammering them out and she melts under the radiance of his touch and the way his admiration and gratitude  is communicated perfectly by the parting of his lips to deepen the kiss.

When she pulls away, his eyes narrow in confusion before he reaches out, arm bumping her wrist as he brings his hand to the nape of her neck, and draws her back. Each subsequent kiss is a purposeful embrace of their lips, no trace of tentativeness or nerves, no questioning thought of if it will be reciprocated. Instead it’s confident, albeit languorous, like basking under the early summer sun and running your fingers slowly through the blades of grass, eyes closed so you can feel every tickle against your skin. They take turns coming and going, initiating and receiving, her hands firm along his jawline while his fingers dive into the depths of her hair. It’s amazing, the way he feels beneath her, the texture of his lips forming a map she hopes to explore eternally, the hint of coffee on his breath invigorating, and the vibration of his tiny, indecorous exhales bouncing down along her spine.

She only wishes it didn’t hurt her neck so much. “Do you mind if we,” speaking is secondary, words coming out in the small space created when their lips part, “change positions?”

Vision nods, hand leaving her hair long enough for him to sit up, a saucy slant to his mouth disarming, coaxing her forward onto her knees so she can reach him. His body turns to greet her, hand cupping her neck while his other hovers awkwardly in the air over her body. “You know,” a tug to his lapel brings his hips closer, closing the gap between their chests, “Clint isn’t around.”

It’s meant as a playful reminder, not a challenge or academic think piece, yet he breaks from her embrace, leaning back to scrutinize her words while his eyes bounce somewhat nervously. This is the man governed by Robert Roberts and normative decorum, so she decides to rewrite the rules, fingers coming to snake between the buttons of his crisp white shirt. “See,” her hand dips beneath the edge of his waistcoat, thrilled at the shiver he tries to contain, “no arrows or holy smiting.”

“To be fair, I do not believe the rules were applied equally.”

Now a challenge falls casually into the air, “Why not test it?”

His cheekbones develop a glow at her affront to Clint’s rules. “A fair and scientific approach, Miss Maximoff.”

Anticipation winds around her body as she watches his attention narrow in on her, weighing how to approach this new experiment.  A featherlight tingle forms on her neck, bursting under her skin in the wake of his touch, the pads of his fingers cautiously skimming her skin, moving from just below her ear down to meet the folded fabric draped on her shoulder. Wanda’s eyes flutter shut, head craning to the side in encouragement. Thankfully he understands, cycling back to trace the curve of her neck, far more assured this time, her quickening, happy breaths spurring him to continue to her collarbones and back up to cup her cheek in his palm. She opens her eyes and sees a new man in front of her, one freed of duty and fear of reprisal, no one else tucked away watching their every move, and she grins at this new Vision. “See, no arrows.”

“Only Cupid’s.”  

“That needs some work, Vizh.”

“Agreed.” Their laughter mingles, his forehead coming to rest on hers with an embarrassed, though good natured, shake of his head. Wanda seizes on their proximity to steal a kiss, which turns into two, then tumbles into three, and she loses count when his hand journeys back to her neck, thumb drawing circles in her skin. This descent into affection isn’t drawn out like before, replaced by a fury, a hunger leading to enthusiastic, more frequent connection. Emboldened by the moment, Wanda guides his hand lower, encouraging him to explore below the courteous line of her clavicle, and she shivers when he follows her lead, arching into his body.

Now that the dam of propriety is cracked, she realizes how much she longs for it to fully break, discovers a craving, a need to eliminate all space left between them. Wanda grips his lapels to maneuver even closer, cursing internally at the girth of her skirt and how it makes it impossible to bring his body fully against hers and how she is fairly certain his other hand has journeyed down indecently low on her back but she can’t feel it through the three petticoats. When she attempts to scoot into his lap, it all falls apart with a shocked yelp. Luckily their reflexes are functioning, his hands on her waist and her powers the only thing keeping her from falling face first on the floral rug. “I hate this dress, if you were curious.”

“It,” Vision helps her back upright, arms encircling her waist to keep her in his lap, though their bodies are still too far apart for Wanda’s liking. “Is striking,” he draws her into another passionate kiss, pulling her as firmly against him as he can in an attempt to prove to the dress it can’t win. Yet it’s still not good enough and even he admits it. “Though it is cumbersome.”

It could be resolved with a new angle, “You know you are supposed to be laying down.”

A mischievous, conspiratorial smirk sucks the air from her lungs, “That was the intent of our sojourn here.” His next, uneven words slowly breathe life back into her all while stoking the fire racing through her veins, “Will you join me?” All she can manage is an enthusiastic nod as he turns to align with the couch and then lays carefully back, his arms tight around her (her own arms wrapping around his neck at the sudden movement) as they stretch out.

Finally, the petticoats are behind her, the only thing beneath her is Vision, her feet delightfully only reaching his knees in this position and his chest is firm, dotted with small, fascinating rises, whether it's the vibranium, the rivets, or simply the buttons of his waistcoat is indistinguishable and unnecessary. All she wants to do is drown in the crashing waves of his affection, her powers instinctively reaching for his joy and his desire, inundating her senses, sensitizing her to his every touch, every breath, every shocked gasp when her hand slips beneath his coat. She’s felt lust before, and infatuation, she once thought she loved someone, but this, this is different. Yes, she thoroughly enjoys kissing him, particularly the satisfied, dreamy curve of his mouth whenever they part for air. But what she feels is more than enjoyment, an all-consuming need to know the entirety of his being, and blessedly, he’s complying, allowing her to get lost in the rhythm of his lips and the flow of his increasingly muddled thoughts.

The whole world could be crumbling around them and she wouldn’t care.

He readjusts under her, turning slightly on his side, and it kick starts the momentum of her skirt, rudely yanking her back to reality and off the couch with a start. Fantastic reflexes must be an unspoken requirement of butlers, Vision’s knee bending to catch her, caging her (delightfully) in with his body while offering a light reproach directed at her dress, “Quite cumbersome.”

“I know,” all day it has bothered her and she can’t decide if she is in awe of or horrified at the women who wear similar garments every day, “I just want to rip it off.”

Her laugh goes unmet with words, only a severe, part petrified, part inquisitive, part ravenous squint of his eyes. A wholly different warmth branches up her neck and she has to quash the need to fall into flustered clarification. “We could,” Vision proceeds cautiously, as if he is a man on a rope, strung between the top of the Observatory and the Palace on a windy day, “return to Stark Tower so you can change back into a more relaxed outfit.”

It is a tempting offer, but so is remaining in their current, tangled state. “I don’t want to end our day.”

Concurrence fills his smile while reassurance is laid along the surface of her mouth, “I am unaware of any edict that returning to the tower necessitates a conclusion to our time together.” She can feel his muscles against her, can even differentiate the metal pathways from his body due to their insistence on not following the flow of his shrug, “and, if it holds any weight, I believe I am the only person, other than the architect, who knows all of the hidden rooms and passageways, should that become necessary.”

Some couples lace insinuations into the way they fold their napkins or the pictures on calling cards. Her butler has secret passageways and rooms. Wanda is sure she has the preferable method, yet she tries to follow some protocol of coyness, “Was there anything else you wanted to do today before we retire?”

“The only other item on my list was a stroll around Sawkill Stream.”

Not just passageways and hidden rooms apparently, “Isn’t that a kissing bridge?P”

Whatever spell has been placed on the boat, she hopes to recreate later, his grin almost as effortless as the kiss he bestows, one that solidifies if they return to the tower it needs to be a fast trip so they can resume this new favorite pastime they’ve discovered. “I believe we managed to find a far more adequate location.”

“We did.”

Reluctantly she disembarks from the couch, sliding easily onto her feet once he lowers his knee, grabbing his hat and gloves from the floor as she waits for him. Vision is slower to move, a wince and clenched teeth betraying the discomfort he’d been ignoring. “Let me help.” Scarlet envelops him, supporting his tired limbs as he stands and Wanda feels guilty, worried she’s caused him more harm.

“Wanda,” an arm wraps around her waist and he bends to touch his forehead to hers, “I am fine.”

She rises onto her toes to kiss him, accepting his claim for the time being, though she still mimics his hold, diving her hand beneath his coat to hold him steady against her. “Ready?” He nods and she sends out a sweep of her powers and feels two familiar minds out front. “Clint and Natasha are outside.” The information is shared in a tone she hopes conveys her utter lack of desire to encounter them now, the admonishment they’d likely receive not in tune with her current mood.

Vision seems to pick up on her request, leading her in the opposite direction of the door they used to enter the ship. “Then it is fortuitous I happen to know of the aft servants exit.”

They leave the ship, exiting onto a relatively empty street, one far removed from the casual tourists of the Exhibition and one blissfully absent their chaperones. It’s an area she doesn’t know well, so she allows Vision take the lead, though her arm remains firm around his waist to help hold him steady, a concerning limp to his gait that he assures her, numerous times, is simply from being overworked. It’s as they turn down a side street that she asks something she’s wondered about most of the day and hopes it will distract them until they reach the next railcar stop, “So how does that elevator thing work?”

A reserved yet amused laugh precedes his explanation, “It is, as I said earlier, a surprisingly simple application of the laws of physics. When the elevator is in motion, the force exerted keeps a set of springs open, what Otis did differently is-”

“Excuse me sir, would you happen to have the time?”

Vision stops, turning expertly on his heel as he reaches into his pocket. “Yes, it is three forty five.”

Looking over a shoulder is key to espionage, distraction is dangerous, and Wanda finds her heart plummeting as she turns to stare into the sneering, scarred face of the man who has haunted her dreams for so long. “Very impressive, moja mala vještice. Jocasta here,” the woman in white is with him, triumph making her even more beautiful in the same way a bayonet is stunning. “Has been telling me the exhilarating details of your day. Why don’t you both come along, we have a lot to discuss.”

Victorian Language and Culture Decoder

This chapter has a lot of links for the footnotes - because Tumblr is awesome, if I put the links in this post it won’t show up in the tags. So if you’d like to see the pictures, hop on over to AO3 for the links.

A

The two primary modes of transportation for the Exhibition were either omnibuses (i.e. stagecoaches) or the cheaper railcar option - though it was a horse drawn railcar.

B

Prudes on the prowl: hypersensitive women who haunted music halls and other public establishments to discover misbehavior.

C

Take the egg: to win or succeed

D

A link to the look that inspired Vision’s outfit is on AO3.

E

Tipping the velvet: There are two meanings to this -- 1. French kissing and 2. Cunningulus.

F

Chucked all of a heap: Enthralled and fascinated by the beauty before you.

G

Tot-hunting: On the prowl for young, pretty women.

H

Bubble around: verbally attack

I

This is what Elisha Otis said after the rope was cut. Almost all of this scene - minus his whole speech and Tony Stark - is based on historical accounts of this demonstration.To see a picture a link is on AO3. 

J

Jammiest bit of jam: Absolutely perfect woman

K

There is a really cool website that has a walk-through of the Crystal Palace. If you want to check it out, you guessed it, go on over to AO3.

L

Fun fact: Tiffany & Co had only recently changed their name right before the Exhibition and used their booth as a way to re-establish their company in the public’s eye.

M

Picture of the glass is on AO3.

N

Picture of Tiffany & Co’s display on AO3

O

Smash was the alcoholic drink of the Exhibition...but only for men. The Temperance Movement against alcohol was in full swing and women were socially prohibited from consuming liquor. All refreshment stands and saloons in the Exhibition were segregated by gender. In exchange for not getting alcohol, women did get ice cream, which was deemed a sufficiently feminine enough dessert for their delicate taste buds.

P

Kissing bridges were pedestrian bridges in secluded parks where young couples would go for some alone time.

[kahran042]

Western animation characters with Anime Planet tags

The title says it all.

Stan SMITH Male, Black Hair Tags: Adult, Gunslinger, Muscular, Spy

Francine SMITH Female, Blonde Hair Tags: Adult

Hayley SMITH Female, Black Hair Tags: Headband, Teenager

Steve SMITH Male, Brown Hair Tags: Glasses, High School Student, Teenager

Roger SMITH Male, None Hair Tags: Ageless, Alien, Bartender, Bisexual, Cowardly, Crossdresser, Selfish

Klaus HEISLER Male, None Hair Tags: Animal, Foreigner, Sadistic

Snot AKA: Schmuely LONSTEIN Male, Brown Hair Tags: Facial Hair, High School Student, Teenager

Toshi YOSHIDA Male, Black Hair Tags: Foreigner, Glasses, High School Student, Teenager

Barry TUBBS Male, Red Hair Tags: High School Student, Overweight, Teenager

Greg CORBIN Male, Brown Hair Tags: Adult, Gay, Reporter

Terry BATES Male, Blonde Hair Tags: Adult, Gay, Reporter

Avery BULLOCK Male, White Hair Tags: Balding, Elderly, Spy

Brian LEWIS Male, None Hair Tags: Adult, Bald, Dark-Skinned, Facial Hair, School Principal

---

Master Shake Male, None Hair Tags: Big Ego, Food Character, Selfish

Frylock Male, None Hair Tags: Analytical, Elemental Powers, Facial Hair, Food Character, Inventor, Lightning Powers, Scientist, Superpowers

Meatwad Male, None Hair Tags: Airhead, Food Character, Shapeshifter, Snaggletooth

Carl BRUTANANADILEWSKI Male, Brown Hair Tags: Adult, Balding, Facial Hair, Heavy Drinker, Overweight, Pervert

Ignignokt Male, None Hair Tags: Alien, Big Ego, Smoker, Stoic

Err Male, None Hair Tags: Alien, Big Ego, Hot-Headed, Smoker

Oglethorpe Male, None Hair Tags: Alien

Emory Male, None Hair Tags: Alien

Cybernetic Ghost of Christmas Past from the Future Male, None Hair Tags: Robot, Time Traveler

MC Pee Pants Male Tags: Demon, Musician, Shapeshifter

Markula Male Tags: Landlord, Vampire

Rabbot Male, None Hair Tags: Robot

Romulox Male, None Hair Tags: Horns, Monster

---

Sterling ARCHER Male, Black Hair Tags: Adult, Animal Lover, Big Ego, Flirt, Gunslinger, Heavy Drinker, Spy

Lana KANE Female, Black Hair Tags: Adult, Dark-Skinned, Dual Wielder, Gunslinger, Ponytail, Spy

Malory ARCHER Female, Grey Hair Tags: Elderly, Flirt, Heavy Drinker, Selfish, Wealthy

Cyril FIGGIS Male, Black Hair Tags: Adult, Glasses

Pam POOVEY Female, Blonde Hair Tags: Adult, Big Eater, Bisexual, Overweight, Tattoos

Cheryl TUNT Female, Red Hair Tags: Adult, Wealthy

Ray GILETTE Male, Blonde Hair Tags: Adult, Dual Wielder, Facial Hair, Gay, Gunslinger, Smoker, Spy

Algernop KRIEGER Male, Brown Hair Tags: Adult, Computer Programmer, Facial Hair, Inventor, Scientist

Arthur WOODHOUSE Male, White Hair Tags: Balding, Butler, Elderly, Military Veteran

---

Beetlejuice AKA: BJ, Beej, Mr. BEETLEMAN, Betty JUICE Male, Blonde Hair Tags: Big Ego, Ghost, Magic User, Mischievous, Shapeshifter

Lydia DEETZ AKA: Lyds Female, Black Hair Tags: Anti-Gravity Hair, Ponytail

Jacques LALEAN Male, None Hair Tags: Athlete, Facial Hair, Hat, Skeleton, Undead

Ginger Female, None Hair Tags: Animal, Dancer, Hat, Spider

The Monster Across the Street Male, Red Hair Tags: Hat, Monster, Musician, Singer

Poopsie Male, Pink Hair Tags: Animal, Dog, Horns

Charles DEETZ Male, Blonde Hair Tags: Adult, Cowardly

Delia DEETZ Female, Red Hair Tags: Adult, Artist

Scuzzo Male, Pink Hair Tags: Big Nose, Clown, Hat, Sadistic

Doomie AKA: Dragster of Doom, Doomeroo Male, None Hair Tags: Inanimate Object, Shapeshifter

Captain KIDDER Male, White Hair Tags: Epic Eyebrows, Eye Patch, Facial Hair, Hat, Pirate

Percy Male, Black Hair Tags: Animal, Cat

Flubbo Male, None Hair

Judge Mental Male

Mayor Maynot Male, Blue Hair Tags: Bandages, Politician, Sunglasses

Armhold MUSCLEHUGGER Male, Blonde Hair Tags: Muscular

Donnyjuice Male, Blonde Hair Tags: Ghost

Chester SLIME Male, None Hair

Prince Vince Male, Black Hair Tags: Crown, Musician, Royalty, Singer

Germs PONDSCUM Male, None Hair Tags: Epic Eyebrows

Mr. MONITOR Male, None Hair

Monstress Female, Blonde Hair Tags: Hat, Monster

Nat JUICE Male

Bea JUICE Female

Clare BREWSTER Female, Blonde Hair Tags: Big Ego, Hair Ribbons, Wealthy

Bertha AKA: Burp Female, Brown Hair Tags: Headband

Prudence AKA: Prune Female, Red Hair Tags: Glasses, Small Stature

Miss Shannon Female, Red Hair Tags: Adult, Glasses

Bartholomew BATT Male, Black Hair Tags: Animal, Bat, Big Ego, Glasses

Little Miss Warden Female, Blonde Hair Tags: Hat, Prison Warden, Small Stature

Jesse GERMS Male, Black Hair Tags: Hat, Undead, Whip Wielder

Mrs. BUGSLY Female, Turquoise Hair Tags: Hair Buns, Sunglasses

Lip Scum Male

Zigmund VOID Male, Grey Hair Tags: Balding, Breathtaking Beard, Facial Hair, Glasses, Doctor

---

Bob BELCHER Male, Black Hair Tags: Adult, Bisexual, Cook, Facial Hair, Magnificent Mustache, Overweight

Linda BELCHER Female, Black Hair Tags: Adult, Glasses, Heavy Drinker

Tina BELCHER Female, Black Hair Tags: Glasses, Teenager

Gene BELCHER Male, Black Hair Tags: Big Eater, Child, Musician, Overweight

Louise BELCHER Female, Black Hair Tags: Animal Hood, Child, Mischievous, Pigtails

Mort Male, Brown Hair Tags: Adult, Glasses

Teddy Male, None Hair Tags: Adult, Bald, Facial Hair, Hat, Overweight

Jimmy PESTO SR. AKA: Jimmy POPLOPOVICH Male, Brown Hair Tags: Adult, Big Ego, Cook, Single Parent

Jimmy PESTO JR. AKA: J-Ju Male, Orange Hair Tags: Athlete, Dancer, Teenager, Wrestler

Andy PESTO Male, Blonde Hair Tags: Child, Twin

Ollie PESTO Male, Blonde Hair Tags: Child, Twin

Zeke Male, Brown Hair Tags: Athlete, Teenager, Wrestler

Tammy LARSON Female, Blonde Hair Tags: Cheerleader, Ponytail, Selfish, Teenager

Hugo Male, Blonde Hair Tags: Adult, Small Stature

Ron Male, Orange Hair Tags: Adult, Facial Hair, Pompadour

Calvin FISCHOEDER Male, White Hair Tags: Adult, Eye Patch, Landlord, Wealthy

Gayle Female, Brown Hair Tags: Adult, Animal Lover, Artist, Glasses

---

Peter GRIFFIN Male, Brown Hair Tags: Adult, Glasses, Heavy Drinker, Lazy, Overweight, Selfish

Lois GRIFFIN Female, Red Hair Tags: Adult

Meg GRIFFIN Female, Brown Hair Tags: Glasses, Hat, High School Student, Teenager

Chris GRIFFIN Male, Blonde Hair Tags: Artist, Hat, High School Student, Overweight, Piercings, Teenager

Stewie GRIFFIN Male, None Hair Tags: Baby, Child Prodigy, Inventor, Sadistic

Brian GRIFFIN Male, White Hair Tags: Animal, Big Ego, Dog, Heavy Drinker, Writer

Glen QUAGMIRE Male, Black Hair Tags: Adult, Flirt, Military Veteran, Pervert, Pilot

Cleveland BROWN Male, Black Hair Tags: Adult, Dark-Skinned, Facial Hair

Joe SWANSON Male, Brown Hair Tags: Adult, Disabled, Muscular, Police, Wheelchair

Mort GOLDMAN Male, Red Hair Tags: Adult, Cowardly, Glasses, Merchant

Carter PEWTERSCHMIDT Male, White Hair Tags: Company President, Elderly, Wealthy

Ernie Male, None Hair Tags: Animal, Bird, Chicken

Jerome Male, Black Hair Tags: Adult, Afro, Bartender, Dark-Skinned, Facial Hair, Missing Teeth

---

Garfield Male, Multicolored Hair Tags: Animal, Big Eater, Cat, Lazy, Overweight, Sleepyhead

Jon ARBUCKLE Male, Brown Hair Tags: Adult

Odie Male, Yellow Hair Tags: Airhead, Animal, Dog

Nermal Male, Grey Hair Tags: Animal, Cat

Liz WILSON Female, Black Hair Tags: Adult, Doctor

Binky Male, Orange Hair Tags: Adult, Clown

Cactus Jake Male, Grey Hair Tags: Elderly, Epic Eyebrows, Facial Hair, Hat

Al SWINDLER Male, Black Hair Tags: Adult, Big Nose, Merchant

Orson PIG Male, None Hair Tags: Animal, Bookworm, Pig

Wade DUCK Male, None Hair Tags: Animal, Bird, Cowardly, Duck

Roy ROOSTER Male, None Hair Tags: Animal, Big Ego, Bird, Chicken, Mischievous

Bo SHEEP Male, White Hair Tags: Animal, Sheep

Lanolin SHEEP Female, White Hair Tags: Animal, Bossy, Hair Ribbons, Hot-Headed, Sheep

Booker Male, None Hair Tags: Animal, Bird, Chicken

Sheldon Male, None Hair

---

Dipper PINES Male, Brown Hair Tags: Analytical, Child, Child Prodigy, Hat, Twin

Mabel PINES Female, Brown Hair Tags: Child, Headband, Hyperactive, Mischievous, Rosy Cheeks, Twin

Stan PINES AKA: Stanley PINES, Grunkle Stan Male, Grey Hair Tags: Big Nose, Elderly, Facial Hair, Glasses, Hat, Merchant, Selfish, Thief

Soos AKA: Jesus Alzamirano RAMIREZ Male, Brown Hair Tags: Adult, Hat, Overweight, Video Gamer

Wendy CORDUROY Female, Red Hair Tags: Hat, Lazy, Piercings, Teenager, Tomboy

Waddles Male, None Hair Tags: Animal, Pig

Robbie VALENTINO AKA: Robbie V Male, Black Hair Tags: Big Nose, Guitarist, Musician, Piercings, Teenager

Gideon GLEEFUL AKA: Li'l Gideon Male, White Hair Tags: Child, Freckles, Pompadour, Psychic Powers

Bill CIPHER Male, None Hair Tags: Cane, Demon, Hat, Manipulative

---

Hank HILL Male, Brown Hair Tags: Adult, Glasses, Heavy Drinker, Merchant, Stoic

Peggy HILL Female, Brown Hair Tags: Adult, Big Ego, Glasses, Teacher

Bobby HILL Male, Brown Hair Tags: Middle School Student, Overweight, Teenager

Luanne PLATTER Female, Blonde Hair Tags: Airhead, Puppeteer, Teenager, University Student

Dale GRIBBLE Male, Brown Hair Tags: Adult, Balding, Bounty Hunter, Cowardly, Hat, Heavy Drinker, Smoker, Sunglasses

Nancy Hicks GRIBBLE Female, Blonde Hair Tags: Adult, Reporter

Joseph GRIBBLE Male, Black Hair Tags: Athlete, Dark-Skinned, Middle School Student, Teenager

Bill DAUTERIVE Male, Red Hair Tags: Adult, Balding, Heavy Drinker, Military, Overweight

Jeff BOOMHAUER Male, Blonde Hair Tags: Adult, Flirt, Heavy Drinker, Police, Verbal Tic

Kahn SOUPHANOUSINPHONE Male, Black Hair Tags: Adult, Big Ego, Foreigner

Minh SOUPHANOUSINPHONE Female, Black Hair Tags: Adult, Foreigner

Connie SOUPHANOUSINPHONE AKA: Kahn SOUPHANOUSINPHONE JR. Female, Black Hair Tags: Middle School Student, Musician, Teenager, Violinist

Cotton HILL Male, White Hair Tags: Disabled, Elderly, Hot-Headed, Military Veteran, Small Stature

---

Stan MARSH Male, Black Hair Tags: Child, Elementary School Student, Hat

Kyle BROFLOVSKI Male, Red Hair Tags: Afro, Child, Elementary School Student, Hat

Eric CARTMAN Male, Brown Hair Tags: Big Eater, Bully, Child, Elementary School Student, Hat, Overweight, Sadistic, Selfish

Kenny MCCORMICK Male, Blonde Hair Tags: Child, Elementary School Student, Hood, Pervert

Butters STOTCH AKA: Leopold STOTCH Male, Blonde Hair Tags: Child, Eternal Optimist

Wendy TESTABURGER Female, Black Hair Tags: Child, Hat

Craig TUCKER Male Tags: Child, Gay

Token BLACK Male, Black Hair Tags: Child, Dark-Skinned, Wealthy

Jimmy VALMER Male, Brown Hair Tags: Child, Disabled

Tweek TWEAK Male, Blonde Hair Tags: Child, Gay

Chef AKA: Jerome MACELROY Male, Black Hair Tags: Adult, Cook, Dark-Skinned, Facial Hair, Flirt, Hat, Overweight, Singer

Randy MARSH Male, Black Hair Tags: Adult, Facial Hair, Scientist

Sharon MARSH Female, Brown Hair Tags: Adult

Gerald BROFLOVSKI Male, Brown Hair Tags: Adult, Facial Hair, Hat, Lawyer

Sheila BROFLOVSKI Female, Red Hair Tags: Adult, Overweight

Liane CARTMAN Brown Hair Tags: Adult, Single Parent

Herbert GARRISON Male, Gray Hair Tags: Adult, Balding, Gay, Glasses, Puppeteer, Teacher

Jimbo KERN Male Tags: Gunslinger, Hat, Hunter, Merchant, Military Veteran

Satan Male, None Hair Tags: Demon, Facial Hair, Gay, Horns, Muscular

---

Huey FREEMAN Male, Black Hair Tags: Afro, Child, Dark-Skinned, Elementary School Student, Martial Artist, Stoic, Terrorist

Riley FREEMAN AKA: Young Reezy Male, Black Hair Tags: Athlete, Basketball Player, Child, Dark-Skinned, Dreadlocks, Elementary School Student, Hot-Headed

Robert FREEMAN AKA: Granddad, Bitches Male, White Hair Tags: Balding, Dark-Skinned, Elderly, Flirt, Glasses, Hot-Headed, Military Veteran, Selfish, Unconventional Weapon, Widow

Tom DUBOIS Male, Black Hair Tags: Adult, Dark-Skinned, Lawyer

Sarah DUBOIS Female, Blonde Hair Tags: Adult, Flirt

Jazmine DUBOIS Female, Orange Hair Tags: Afro, Child, Dark-Skinned, Elementary School Student, Eternal Optimist

Ed WUNCLER Male, None Hair Tags: Bald, Company President, Elderly, Ruthless, Selfish, Wealthy

Ed WUNCLER III Male, Red Hair Tags: Adult, Gunslinger, Hat, Hot-Headed, Military Veteran, Muscular, Piercings, Wealthy

Gin RUMMY Male, Blonde Hair Tags: Adult, Dreadlocks, Glasses, Gunslinger, Headband, Hot-Headed, Military Veteran

Uncle Ruckus Male, None Hair Tags: Bald, Dark-Skinned, Elderly, Facial Hair, Overweight, Poor, Racial Purist

Colonel H. STINKMEANER Male, White Hair Tags: Balding, Blind, Cane, Dark-Skinned, Disabled, Elderly, Hot-Headed, Sunglasses

Bushido BROWN Male, Black Hair Tags: Afro, Bodyguard, Dark-Skinned, Facial Hair, Headband, Sunglasses, Sword Fighter

Thugnificent AKA: Otis JENKINS Male, Black Hair Tags: Anti-Gravity Hair, Dark-Skinned, Musician, Wealthy

Rollo GOODLOVE Male, Black Hair Tags: Adult, Charismatic, Dark-Skinned, Facial Hair, Overweight, Piercings, Selfish

Deborah LEEVIL Female, Black Hair Tags: Adult, Company President, Dark-Skinned, Racial Purist

---

Grizz Male, Brown Hair Tags: Animal, Bear

Panda AKA: Pan-Pan Male, Multicolored Hair Tags: Animal, Bear

Ice Bear Male, White Hair Tags: Animal, Axe Wielder, Bear, Cook, Dancer, Martial Artist, Stoic

Chloe PARK Female, Black Hair Tags: Child, Child Prodigy, Glasses, University Student

Nom-Nom Male, Grey Hair Tags: Animal, Big Ego, Koala, Selfish, Wealthy

Charlie Male, Grey Hair

[siuxae]

Cosplays with a BLONDE WIG

A/N: This is a list of characters to cosplay with a blonde wig based on the animes and video games I have watched/played. I will update it as time goes on!

Lengths: short, medium, long, and pigtails.

Fandoms: My Hero Academia, Danganronpa, Haikyuu!!, Black Butler, Spy x Family, Toilet-Bound Hanako-kun

Short:

Bakugo Katsuki (My Hero Academia)

Kaminari Denki (My Hero Academia)

Ojiro Mashirao (My Hero Academia)

Monoma Neito (My Hero Academia)

Best Jeanist (My Hero Academia)

Hawks (My Hero Academia)

Ryukyu (My Hero Academia)

Fatgum (My Hero Academia)

Muscular (My Hero Academia)

Setsuno Toya (My Hero Academia)

Togami Byakuya (Danganronpa THH)

Ultimate Impostor (Danganronpa GD)

Kuzuryu Fuyuhiko (Danganronpa GD)

Izayoi Sonosuke (Danganronpa FA)

Tsukishima Kei (Haikyuu!!)

Tanaka Saeko (Haikyuu!!)

Baldroy (Black Bulter)

Finnian (Black Butler)

Midford Edward (Black Butler)

Dagger (Black Butler)

Peter (Black Butler)

Minamoto Kou (TBHK)

Minamoto Teru (TBHK)

Medium:

All Might (My Hero Academia)

Aoyama Yuga (My Hero Academia)

Togata Mirio (My Hero Academia)

Bakugo Mitsuki (My Hero Academia)

Mitarai Ryota (Danganronpa FA)

Kizakura Koichi (Danganronpa FA)

Yachi Hitoka (Haikyuu!!)

Chamber Aleister (Black Butler)

Forger Loid (Spy x Family)

Long:

Present Mic (My Hero Academia)

Tsunotori Pony (My Hero Academia)

Ustushimi Camie (My Hero Academia)

Pixie Bob (My Hero Academia)

Mount Lady (My Hero Academia)

Shield Melissa (My Hero Academia)

Nevermind Sonia (Danganronpa GD)

Akamatsu Kaede (Danganronpa KH)

Iruma Miu (Danganronpa KH)

Redmond Edgar (Black Butler)

Camilla (Spy x Family)

Pigtails/ponytail:

Nakagame Tatami (My Hero Academia)

Toga Himiko (My Hero Academia)

Saionji Hiyoko (Danganronpa GD)

Midford Elizabeth (Black Butler)

Hope this helps! ❤

[catching-up-on-comic-books]

Binge Reading Journal - November 13, 2018 - the tenth day of reading Marvel’s Dark Reign (Part 3)

Secret Invasion- Requiem

Now they reprint Court-Martial by Jim Shooter (boy genius writer), Bob Hall (an underrated penciler), Dan Green on inks and Janice Chiang on Letters. This story was first featured in Avengers #213 in 1981 featuring the smack heard ‘round the world.

Hank Pym, now working under the name of Yellowjacket, is standing in front of Iron Man, Thor and Captain America. All in full uniform in their private mansion where no one can see, or get in or out. BUT this is a serious matter. Full uniform must be worn! Iron Man says that Cap has leveled some serious charges against Yellowjacket. Thor lets him know that if the accusations are true he will face formal court-martial! Thor wants the record to show that he and Iron Man are presiding as judges.....wait wait wait. These are just a bunch of dudes wearing really tight clothes in a swanky clubhouse. There’s no military sanction. Tony Stark is footing the bill (through the Maria Stark Foundation) so they can run around and smash things!

According to the Marvel Database, they’re a non-profit organization like the American Red Cross or Habitat for Humanity, recognized by the National Security Council of the US and the UN as a peacekeeping organization, ain’t nobody being court-martialed....pppsshhhh. Just be all like, “Hank you’re a jerk! Here are your things and go away.”

Well, these boys are going to go through this farce anyway. Cap states that the day before, during a mission where he was fighting a mysterious woman attacking Washington D.C. He managed to convince her to stop when Yellowjacket shot her in the back, which caused her to continue fighting. Iron Man asks for an explanation to which he has none. His own personal thoughts, legible in a bubble to the reader shows him thinking that he was a jerk and acted over eagerly to be the star on his first mission since rejoining the team.

Thor (who’s not really pretending at any of this because he actually is a Norse god) says they will convene for three days until the formal court-martial (hahahah) and suspends Hank until then so hand over your Avengers ID Card, Hank!

Hank pleads a little at this but Iron Man reminds him the rules, which he helped write, are firm on this.

I don’t think The Salvation Army has ever court-martialed anyone and they call themselves an army!

Janet is in the hallway outside the court-martial ichamber. Tigra asks why so down? Tigra, by the way is hanging from one of the rafters in the ceiling because it helps her relax. She wonders why Janet is so hung up on that strange guy anyway. Can we remind 2008 Future Tigra, who’s having Skrull-Hank babies, she thought Hank was strange in 1981?

Hank leaves the room and practically shoves Janet aside, telling her to leave him alone when she asks how he is. He immediately regrets it an apologizes before she walks away. She comes in for an embrace and say sweet consoling things to each other. TIgra doesn’t get it.

As the other founding members go their separate ways, each one remembers their own mistakes from the past.

Cap recalls when, during a heated battle against Nazi soldiers, he reacted to a noise behind him and instinctively threw his shield. It was a little girl, an orphan, collecting the brass shells for money. He barely missed hitting her when she bent down to pick up a shell. Cap realizes that he nearly made the same mistake as Hank.

Iron Man is going over Hank’s files and pictures, As a founding member his history is tied in closely with the Avengers’ history. However, Hank never really seemed to settle in, taking on guises such as Giant-Man and Goliath. Tony feels that Hank always felt outclassed by himself and Iron Man, so he’d leave the team to try to come up with some scientific breakthrough to prove himself. One of those wound up being Ultron, the Avengers’ greatest enemy. Then he had an accident in the lab which triggered a mental breakdown. That’s when he started calling himself Yellowjacket. However, the schizophrenia was cured (can’t be cured.)

Schizophrenia, and other mental disorders are a pulp fiction trope, used to explain away erratic behavior. It is usually used by writers with very little understanding of the actual condition. Actually, a rigorous new definition of schizophrenia was fashioned for the ''Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Third Edition,'' or ''DSM-III,'' which was published by the American Psychiatric Association in 1980.

Nevertheless, Hank and Janet got married. As Iron Man continues reminiscing, he recalls how Ultron returned and forced him to create Jocasta from Janet’s brain waves. Iron Man wonders if Hank will ever stop looking for redemption. Is it fair to turn away from a friend who needs help, should he be punished for a mistake anyone of them could have made?

Janet and Hank head home, Janet stopping to sign autographs for fans waiting outside the mansion, none recognizing Yellowjacket. They head to their residence in Cresskill, New Jersey. (Did he always live there? Should I redo my ant speed calculations from that earlier issue?) Ah wait, their butler and other staff greet Janet like she’s the Queen of England and Hank is something she stepped in. She’s the rich one, inherited her father’s wealth which he made from science, with all his alien teleportation stuff. Not a lot of scientists manage to get rich. Usually the career path of a scientist is to become tenured at a university, write a lot of books and speaking engagements, they manage to make a decent living. Usually they work for companies and universities collecting meager salaries for the opportunity to science.

If a scientist manages to discover something, and patent it and comes up with a practical use for it, then there is an opportunity to become rich from it. A couple of rich, like Craig Ventner. Dr. Ventner, much like Hank Pym, is a biotechnologist, biochemist and geneticist. He was involved in mapping the human genome. Then he founded, Celera Genomics, institute for Genomic Research and the J. Craig Ventner Institute and Human Longevity, Inc.

At Celera, Ventner and his colleagues completed sequencing the human genome (Ventner’s genome specifically) three years ahead of schedule, beating the government funded Human Genome Project (your taxes at work.) Ventner’s discoveries, patents and stock ownership in the companies he’s founded made him very rich. Forbes estimates that his net worth (as of 2017) based on his stakes on two of his startups is about $300 million.

It seems like taking some real world examples, there’s some untapped story ideas to mine; what did Janet Van Dyne’s father discover and patent that made him rich and how has it impacted the world; how can Pym cash in on his own discoveries (not to mention Reed Richards, Hank McCoy, etc.).

Janet tries to get Hank into the bedroom, but he takes the laboratory over the seductive advances of his wife.

Hank admits he hates going to the lab because it reminds him of his failures, except there is one success he’s had in the lab: Robotics (wait, no that never turns out well.

Cut to three days later, Tigra is asleep in her private quarters, Bob Hall draws her in the nude but all the naughty bits are tastefully covered. She wakes up to the sound of Jarvis approaching her door. Jim Shooter makes it a point to say she slipped on a satiny negligee. It’s like the only reason Tigra was created was to get some weird furry fantasy going for the readers. A startled Jarvis, who’s never owned a cat apparently or else he wouldn’t be surprised by her behavior, is presenting Tigra with her first weekly stipend check.

She is surprised to learn that the Avengers get paid a salary. He clarifies that it is a modest stipend to cover living expenses, which most Avengers traditionally refuse, he adds in a snidely way. Hmmmm. Let’s see....Black Panther is the king of his own country so mega-rich; Thor, Prince of Asgard, so rich he doesn’t even need money; Captain America, probably collecting a lot of military back pay. See, Jarvis, most Avengers refuse the stipend because they’re already rich; not because they are doing it out of the goodness of their hearts.

He continues to economically shame her by pointing out that those that do accept the stipend are the ones that live at the mansion and have no outside means of support. Tigra finally gets a chance to read it and notices it is for one thousand dollars. Which in 1983, like $2,534.53 today or $131, 795.56 a year. That is a pretty good haul on top of room and board for Tigra.

Jarvis reminds her that the court-martial is at four o’clock that day. Meanwhile, Tony Stark is making an excuse to leave a board meeting at Stark International Headquarters, because writers think the best way to show a busy CEO is at a board meeting (not true, board meetings occur maybe just once a year unless there is an emergency, trope alert)

Thor finishes up some surgery but leaves the cleaning up for his colleagues, who grouse at Blake leaving (oh, sorry at this time, Thor is still using the Don Blake alter ego) for them to clean up despite being the best surgeon ever.

Captain America, already in the Avengers library and in full uniform, is wondering if he will have the courage to look Hank in the eye even though it is the most difficult thing he’s ever done. More difficult than watching Bucky die on that rocket? More difficult than giving up your Captain America identity to become Nomad? Well, we all chose our own cross to bear.

Speaking of crosses to bear, a few hours earlier, Janet hasn’t seen Hank since they came home three days earlier. She decides to go check on him in the lab. Finding the door locked, she shrinks down and squeezes in to the door crack to discover Hank putting in the final touches of programming of the robot, which will allow it to target each Avenger by their brain waves. Which it does as o soon as it senses Jan in the room. Hank is infuriated, Accusing Jan of spying on him. Hank explains he has built a robot called Salvation 1 and she’s going to help him test it out. It grabs Jan but her sting is useless against it. He explains it is built out of Adamantium. Ok, so according to the Marvel Database:

Creating even a small amount of Adamantium is astronomically expensive, and only a few people know the complete formula. Adamantium is created by mixing certain chemical resins together. The exact composition of these resins is a closely guarded secret of the United States government. When these resins are mixed and kept at a temperature of 1,500 degrees Fahrenheit, the resulting liquid can be cast or worked into a particular shape. After an eight minute 'flux period', the mixture sets and becomes solid regardless of temperature. Its molecular structure is extremely stable, and its shape can only be altered by precise molecular rearrangement.

So I don’t know how Hank had enough Adamantium lying around to build a 15 foot tall battle robot he just conceived three days prior. He designed Sal with a secret weak spot that will shut down the robot with one well-placed stinger shot, thus making him a hero when Sal attacks the Avengers. That’s the plan at least. But Janet won’t let him go through with it.

There it is.

On Jim Shooter’s website, he posted on March 29, 2011:

In that story (issue 213, I think), there is a scene in which Hank is supposed to have accidentally struck Jan while throwing his hands up in despair and frustration—making a sort of “get away from me” gesture while not looking at her.  Bob Hall, who had been taught by John Buscema to always go for the most extreme action, turned that into a right cross!  There was no time to have it redrawn, which, to this day has caused the tragic story of Hank Pym to be known as the “wife-beater” story.

So, henceforth Hank Pym is known as a wife beater.

Let’s cut to the court-martial proceedings. Captain America states his case: Yellowjacket shot a hostile in the back. Hank has never been know to act cowardly so the act was a case of misjudgment. It is tempting to write off as a mistake since any one of them can make the same error.

However, as an Avenger they cannot. An error by any one of them can result in the loss of lives. They have a tremendous responsibility and thus must judge themselves harshly.

I bet one can look back at previous issues of the Avengers, or Iron Man or Cap, or Thor and find situations and scenarios where they’ve all made costly mistakes like Hank Pym. Alas, this can’t turn into a retrospective of the Avengers.

Iron Man asks Hank how he pleads or if he wishes to defend himself. Hank pleads not guilty. His argument is that although his mistake may have seemed treacherous but he wondered if Cap ever considered treachery from the enemy. His actions may have actually saved lives! Perhaps because the enemy was a beautiful woman, perhaps Cap liked her! Like Liked her! That’s why Cap is upset, because Hank hurt her!

Everyone is feeling second-hand embarrassment at this point. Iron Man asks him to stop. Hank asks Janet to back up her story. She lowers her sunglasses and reveals a shiner. Thor is shocked, wondering if Hank actually hit her. Hank goes for the remote control to summon Salvation 1. Janet pleads to him to not do it.

Sal bursts through the wall (kind of hilariously, no disrespect to Bob Hall, but considering the statement Shooter made on his blog post, about Hall being trained by Buscema to always go for the drama, it kind of comes off as comedic. Iron Man being flipped upside down, Tigra kind of in a Bugs Bunny pose, Yellowjacket exclaiming “Ah!” In faux surprise.

When Thor strikes it with his Mjolnir without any effect, Janet let’s them know it’s made out of (very expensive and rare) Adamantium and Hank built it and designed it to destroy them. Hank realizes Sal is way too brutal and may actually defeat everyone. He goes for the super secret shut off switch but Sal throws him against the wall. Sal grabs Hank in his giant pincer claws, crushing him when Janet runs up and shoots the switch with her stinger, deactivating Salvation 1.

Hank, shamefully leaves.

[papermoonloveslucy]

LUCY & GONE WITH THE WIND

In one of the biggest publicity stunts in Hollywood history, over 1,400 actresses were considered for the role of Scarlett O’Hara in MGM's Gone With The Wind. Producer David O. Selznick had the rights to the book, but did not have the money to make it. To keep interest alive in the project during pre-production, he auditioned nearly every starlet in Hollywood: Paulette Goddard (the favorite), Bette Davis, Joan Crawford, Jean Arthur, Lana Turner, Barbara Stanwyck, Claudette Colbert, Susan Hayward, Katharine Hepburn, Tallulah Bankhead and Lucille Ball, who read for the role but never made a screen test.  

On “Bob Hope's Unrehearsed Antics of The Stars” (September 28, 1984) Ball recounted - with a fair amount of embellishment for comedic effect - her audition.

I had to audition for Mr. David O. Selznick and it was for Scarlett O'Hara in ‘Gone With the Wind’. Everybody knew it was just a huge publicity gimmick. But I was just a young starlet when you're a under contract to a studio you do what you're told to do.

After working six dreadful weeks with a dialogue coach who had a southern accent that just dripped molasses, the big day finally arrived.  I knew it was ridiculous, but I had to go. I climbed into my old rattletrap car and as I reached Culver City I got caught in the biggest cloudburst I ever saw. The streets were flooded. My car stalled. I had to get out and wade six blocks to the studio. I got to the Selznick office looking like a drowned rat. Marcella, Selznick's girl Friday, didn't even recognize me. My hair was down over my face and the henna was running and so was my mascara. I was soaked clear through. Marcella made me take off all my clothes, gave me a big towel and a huge brown sweater and put me on the floor in front of a roaring fireplace in Mr. Selznick's private office. And she gave me a big brandy snifter with brandy in it.  

A half hour and four slugs of brandy later I was still a mess and still on my knees at the fireplace. Suddenly Mr. Selznick came in and said “Well, what have we here?” I said, “Well, I ain't Scarlett O'Hara. I'm Lucille Ball and I wanna go home.” He said “Now, now. We have to do the scenes.” I said “I can't.  I can't stand up.” I couldn't stand up because what I was wearing didn't cover me - and the four shots of brandy didn't help either. But he said “Alright then, do it from there.” I had to audition on my knees.

Now the first scene was Scarlett as a sixteen year-old. When I tried to bat my eyes my eyelashes stuck together and they wouldn't bat. Scarlett said something like “Well, I do declare! I do declare! You boys are so handsome in your gray uniforms. I swear, I'm just gonna miss you all so very, very much.” I'm still on my knees. Then I had a scene with Rhett Butler. I said “Rhett Butler, you're nothing but a no-good low-down Yankee spy and you can go back to where you come from and you can stay there!”

Selznick said “You were very interesting. Very interesting.” I said “I was not and you know it.” And then I just crawled out of the office on my knees holding onto the sweater trying to keep all the vital parts covered.

Although some of Ball's recounting sounds plausible, she remarks that her henna (red hair dye) was running down her face. Ball didn't dye her hair red for the first time until asked to do so by MGM for DuBarry Was a Lady in 1943. She was a natural brunette who was a blonde in some of her early work in order to stand out from the crowd.

During the time period that Gone With The Wind shot (January through July 1939), Lucille Ball made five films for RKO, with the fifth (That's Right – You're Wrong) released just three weeks before Gone With The Wind.

But this was not the last time Lucy would encounter Scarlett and Gone With the Wind. In the 1954 “I Love Lucy” episode “Lucy Writes a Novel” (ILL S3;E24) Lucy Ricardo is inspired to write a roman a clef about her life called “Real Gone with the Wind.” Fred replies “Yeah. Real gone!”

In 1971's “Lucy and Carol Burnett: The Hollywood Unemployment Follies” (HL S3;E22) Lucy and Carol encounter mannequins of Clark Gable and Vivian Leigh dressed in costumes from Gone With The Wind. Carol, using a high pitched Southern accent, imitates Scarlet O'Hara. After the network premiere of the movie in 1976, Carol Burnett produced one her most famous sketches ever, playing Scarlett (re-named Starlett) in the parody “It Went With The Wind” on “The Carol Burnett Show.”

In September 1971, in “Lucy and Flip Go Legit” (HL S4;E1), Lucy Carter convinces Flip Wilson to play Prissy in her daughter Kim's community theatre version of Gone With The Wind. Kim (Lucie Arnaz) plays Melanie, Uncle Harry (Gale Gordon) is Rhett, and Lucy finally gets to play Scarlett. Although Flip Wilson wearing an Abe Lincoln t-shirt as Prissy is very funny, the sketch does not hold a candle to Burnett's 1976 endeavor.

In “Lucy's Lucky Day” (HL S4;E15) Lucy Carter finds an overdue library book - Gone With The Wind – which she says took out when it was first published. The novel by Margaret Mitchell dates from 1936, which means that in 1971 Lucy has had the book out for 35 years!  Imagine the fines!

In the 1958 promo film “Lucy Buys Westinghouse” Desi takes a Westinghouse representative on a helicopter tour of Desilu Culver (formerly RKO), a back lot located in Culver City, also known as Forty Acres. This is where MGM made Gone With The Wind. They pass over a destroyed Tara, twenty years after the film was made. Ironically, it is now owned by Lucille Ball!  

Although Lucille Ball did not get cast, actors who did get roles in the film and later worked for Lucille Ball included:

George Reeves, Stuart Tarleton in GWTW / Superman in “Lucy and Superman” (ILL) [Reeves is incorrectly credited as Brent Tarleton in the film and only credited as ‘Superman’ on “I Love Lucy.”]

Olin Howland, Carpetbagger Businessman in GWTW / Mr. Skinner in “First Stop” (ILL)

Irving Bacon, Corporal in GWTW / Will Potter in “Ethel's Home Town” (ILL) and Mr. Willoughby in “The  Marriage License” (ILL)

Alberto Morin, Rene Picard in GWTW / Waiter Robert DuBois in “The French Revue” (ILL) and Carlos in “Cuban Pals” (ILL)

Shep Houghton, Southern Dandy in GWTW / Courtroom Spectator in “Lucy and the Raffle” (HL) [That same year, Houghton was also a Winkie Guard in The Wizard of Oz.]

Ralph Brooks, Gentleman at 12 Oaks Barbecue in GWTW / Casino Patron in “Lucy Goes to Vegas” (TLS)

Hans Moebus, Party Guest in GWTW / Man on Dock in “Bon Voyage” (ILL), Riverboat Patron in “Lucy and Arthur Godfrey” (TLS) and Spectator in “Lucy at Marineland” (TLS) [Lucy wore the same dress in “Lucy and Arthur Godfrey” as she did as Scarlett O’Hara in “Lucy and Flip Go Legit.”]  

Hattie McDaniel (Mammy in GWTW, inset) was the first black actress ever to win an Oscar, but she wasn’t the only McDaniel to have a ‘first ever’ recognition in show business.  Her brother Sam McDaniel played the Porter in “The Great Train Robbery” (ILL), and was the first and only black actor to have dialogue on “I Love Lucy.” 

[rom-e-o]

All Hallows’ Eve [H!Jakob/NewYear!Corrin]

Pairings: Jakob/NewYear!Corrin [with mentions of Jakob/F!Corrin, Seth/Eirika and Ephraim/L’Arachel]

[FE Heroes-verse]

Askr was an enigma of a location. It was most definitely quieter and safer than the battlefields of Nohr and Hoshido, but also much louder and more vibrant than the Northern Fortress.

In many ways, it was the most normal place Jakob had ever been. Heroes chatted and galivanted around as happily as they could between battles. Some heroes even became engaged and informally wed. Hell, even the summoner Kiran was engaged.

It some ways, he could describe the land as quite idyllic.

In countless other ways, it was a strange wonderland of at least a million nuances. While bloody battles were an everyday occurrence, death wasn’t permanent. Fallen heroes always came back unscathed, even though the pain from the lost battles had been quite real.

Immortality wasn’t the only quirk Askr had to offer. Children turned to beasts, items like chocolates and seashells were weapons and warriors traversed the battlefields in elaborate ensembles of armor and even wedding gowns.

Some heroes even shared voices. Some of the voices were even identical to his own.

One such person with a similar voice was Saizo, but he never seemed to speak more than a few words at a time. The most notable person he shared a voice with was a spy named Matthew, who spoke in a different accent but most definitely the same voice and pitch.

It was even more surreal due to the fact the young man talked about unfamiliar names like ‘Jaffar’ and ‘Nino’ all while gushing over some woman named Leila. Whoever she was, he sounded quite smitten.

If it was odd enough to hear his voice from another’s throat, it was downright chilling to meet alternate versions of himself strolling the area. One time he thought he saw another version of himself, dressed in his normal butler ensemble, following Corrin into a church.

The thought made him blush.

Corrin.

Gods, he missed his liege. He sighed deeply and pushed the daydream from his mind.

Perhaps he’d only helplessly wished for such a sight. Although, in such a strange place, perhaps anything was possible. It wouldn’t be the strangest thing he’d seen so far.

All the other heroes, from children to seniors, chatted merrily one moment and, the next, they were facing down nefarious foes on the battlefield with wiped memories.

Some heroes wore armor and others even wore swimsuits and other costumes.

“Oh gods, don’t even get me started,” he thought as he cast a glance down at his own clothes. The garish costume he wore and the silly-looking weapon that crackled nefariously as his side didn’t bode well with him. No wonder most avoided him. That was the only silver-lining, he supposed.

Not that he cared to harp on it too much, all things considering. The man had been summoned to the strange place right in the middle of his homeland’s autumnal Harvest Festival. One second, he’d been serving tea to his master, and the next he felt as if the world around him shattered into a million pieces and he found himself walking upon an ethereal dais to be greeted by the mysterious summoner Kiran and an owl named Feh.

Since coming to the strange land in a puff of smoke, the summoner had appointed him to head the castle’s defensive team. He’s objected obviously, but Kiran had insisted he take the lead.

So, not in the mood to argue, he reluctantly agreed.

It was an eccentric change of pace for him. To be a leader was not something in his blood. Once more, he was leading armies of other individuals from other dimensions and worlds that were all practically strangers to one another. For every familiar face, there seemed to be a dozen or so new ones.

Although he enjoyed bonding with Prince Alfonse over tea and teasing Frederick over his incredibly informal beach attire (which usually resulted in him having to dodge a sharpened seashell or two) there was only one person he truly longed to see.

Corrin.

Then, as if in a dream, he heard her voice call for him.

“Oh, Jakob, is that you?”

He stiffened at the sound of the familiar voice and phrase. She sounded as if she was only a few inches behind him. The man whirled around expecting to see the princess he longed to meet again so desperately but could never seen to catch up to. Instead, he turned to see a young woman that, alas, was not his liege. She was a shorter girl with reddish, bobbed hair. Instead of a sword, she brandished a staff in her pale hands.

It wasn’t Corrin.

Only someone who shared her voice.

“Ah, Priscilla, correct?’ he said as he tried his best to not sigh in disappointment. Instead, he forced a smile and greeted her kindly. After all, she hadn’t done anything wrong. How was she supposed to know? “I’m sorry, you just startled me. What do you require?”

“Oh…um, Kiran is requesting your presence at the summoning dais,” she said gently, her voice timid and so quiet Jakob had to strain to hear her. “They said it was urgent.”

“Is that so?” he asked, becoming annoyed almost immediately. Probably another idiotic battle with another’s army. While the fighting wasn’t the worst, he didn’t much care for the team he fought with. They were all strangers, but at least, they were strong together. At the end of the day, he supposed that was all that truly mattered in the world of Askr.

“Excuse me, then,” he said with a deep bow. “I’ll take my leave.”

“Of course,” she said with a kind smile. “Take care, Jakob…and if you must go into battle, please be careful. If you find yourself injured, please find me.”

Thank goodness she was quiet. It hurt to listen to every word she spoke.

“I’ll be fine,” he swore as he darted off.

The man briskly made his way to the dais in hope to get whatever matter of discussion was needed out of the way as soon as possible. He had absolutely no desire to covert around with the ridiculous, caped summoner and talking owl. The only reason he would even long to see then was if, by some miracle, perhaps they would send him home.

“Unlikely,” he thought with dismay.

Jakob arrived as his destination and climbed a series of marble steps that ascended into the sky and beyond a blanket of clouds. As he meandered, he heard Kiran shout something excitedly amidst a foggy cocoon of smoke.

“Woohoo!” Kiran shouted from atop the dais, cheering and jumping about in excitement.

In the distance, he could hear the faint swells of shimmering magic and the clashing of sword and axe blades. Another team must have gone into battle, he thought.

Judging from Kiran’s reaction, he assumed they’d been victorious. Perhaps a greater reward than usual had been at stake. Not that it mattered to him in the slightest.

“Good work, team!” the summoner cried from afar while Feh flying in dizzying circles and hooted in elation.

The silver-haired man took a brief pause to glance down and see four heroes marching off the battlefield below. The only one he recognized immediately was L’Arachel, who was a frequent tome user on their kingdom’s defensive team. Whenever she brazenly ran forward to attack, he’d often pull her back immediately and defend her. It was a shockingly effective technique…although she was rarely careful enough to avoid casualty most times. The other teammates, Seliph and Ike, were nowhere to be found.

This time, the blonde princess was joined by two blue-haired warriors that looked like siblings and a red-haired man he knew as Seth.

“Princess Eirika, are you okay?” said warrior asked as his horse trotted alongside her. His voice ached with reverence and concern, but not delicateness, for the woman. “The battle was hard-fought and quite arduous. Please, my horse can carry us both.”

The woman, obviously tired by not beaten, looked up at him and shook her head. Jakob saw the two have a brief discourse before she relented, and he lifted her on his lap. Obviously relieved, Eirika smiled up at him as the two rode back home.

The other pair was much more obnoxious.

“Come along Ephraim,” L’Arachel commanded as her white pony galloped off the field. As the prince sighed and began to follow slowly, she threw a shifty glance back at him and asked, “My, you seem to be just as exhausted as your much more talented sister. Well, I suppose you can ride with me if you’re having trouble keeping up.”

“What’s that? And kick you off your high-horse?’ he asked almost playfully. “I’m fine.”

“Hmph, you’re quite cocky for a man who barely survived the battle,” she retorted, eyes scanning his body and noticing the bloody injuries. She also noted the obvious patches of bare skin, where her eyes not-so-obviously lingered for much longer than necessary.

Ephraim couldn’t help but notice her leering and seized an opportunity.

“You’re quite persnickety for a woman who just asked me to ride along with her,” he said, staring off in the distance as he feigned cool disinterest. He looked ahead to see Eirika comfortable on Seth’s lap.

The otherwise sweet image only served as ammunition for the cocky prince.

“Was your plan for me to sit on your lap as well?” he asked with a smirk. “That sounds nice, but I’d rather sit on Seth’s. His looks more comfortable.”

The heavy weight of her tome clobbered him between his eyes.

“You’d be lucky to be allowed on this horse with me!” she shot back a little too loudly. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re unworthy! By the by, my lap is most definitely more comfortable than his and most certainly yours, you devilish pervert!”

“Prove it, then” he shot back with a completely straight face, only to be smacked again with her tome.

“As incorrigible as ever,” Jakob muttered to himself as he watched them bicker from afar. Hell, Ephraim deserved it, in his opinion. The damned prince was a fine jock but was an ass when it came to social protocol. Not that L’Arachel was anything close to a shining example either.

Then again, neither was he, he supposed.

The man wasn’t jealous of poor Seth and Eirika in the slightest as he backed away from the sight and their voices slowed faded into the distance.

Well, his suspicions thus far seemed correct. It seemed Kiran was excited about a reward that had come from the last battle if the excited ‘Woohoo!’ was anything to go by.

With a cleansing sigh he often used to prepare his fragile patience for most social conversations, Jakob ascended finals steps of the staircase without hindrance of the ball and chain. The scraping of metal on concrete did alert Kiran to his presence and, when they turned to face him, a huge grin was plastered on their face.

“Guess what?” Kiran asked, balling their fists and doing a thrilled dance on their tiptoes. The small figured danced over to Jakob’s side to slowly nudge him toward the stone monument embossed with summering orbs and rugged stonework.

Jakob replied with exhausted silence.

Kiran continued without prompting.

“I know you’ve been down recently, but I just summoned someone who is going to make you very happy!” they said in a hushed tone.

Jakob’s ivory brow lofted in sheer lack of amusement. “Who?”

The strange stone monument a few feet away from them clicked into the earth and released more smoke.

Jakob’s head darted to the crook of his elbow as a strong zephyr of wind pushed against his body. Kiran pulled down their hood and lifted their cloak, cackling with glee the entire time as thick tendrils of smoke slithered around them. Now Jakob was more apprehensive then he was annoyed.

Then, he saw him.

A man with pale hair, red eyes and pointed ears. Emerged from the smoke. The prince was dressed in traditional Hoshido attire and brandished a themed bow all too similar to his own. He stepped off the platform with the grace of a nymph. He didn’t seem disoriented or moody at all. In fact, he was even smiling as he trotted over to the Summoner.

Jakob was wide-eyed at the sight.

“Happy New Year!” he said jovially, his cheeks snow-kissed pink and his smile as bright as a star. “My name’s Kamui, and I’ve decided to spend this year with…”

“Lord…Corrin?”

The young prince paused mid-sentence and glimpsed over Kiran’s shoulder upon noticing the flashing from Jakob’s Monstrous Bow out of the corner of his eye.

The duo locked eyes briefly and the butler felt his stomach quiver. Jakob wondered for a moment if the prince, no doubt from another realm, would recognize him. He didn’t have to wonder long.

Upon seeing a familiar face, Kamui beamed in elation and pushed past Kiran to run to his friend.

“Jakob, it’s you!” the man cried joyfully. He opened his arms and made a beeline for his childhood companion.

Guided by instinct he didn’t know he possessed, the costumed butler dropped his weapon to the ground as Kamui crossed the platform and jumped into his arms. The force of the hug sent Jakob stumbling back a few paces, but he couldn’t care less. He crushed the prince in the tightest hug he could manage, and Kamui reciprocated with an embrace that could potentially crush bones thanks to his draconic strength.

Again, it was hard for Jakob to care.

“You’re here…” Jakob gasped, breathless with a mix of happiness and confusion. The person before him was most definitely his liege, but the incarnation he held so tightly in his arms was also clearly someone from another world. This version of Corrin was a young prince, and he was dressed in Hoshidan attire he’d never seen before.

It was a Corrin from another reality. Another version of the same person he loved with the same smile he treasured.

And yet, they remembered him. This person, Kamui, knew him and ran to him with the same passion and joy of someone he’d known his whole life. He supposed, in another world, it was the exact case.

“Jakob, I’m so happy to see a familiar face,” the young man confessed, not wanting to pull away from his friend’s arms. He pressed his cheek over Jakob’s heart, finding comfort in the heat of his chest and the definite speed of the beats.

“I…” he drawled, barely able to find the words to describe what he felt.

“Did you miss me?” Kamui asked, his eyes slowly traveling down Jakob’s form. “Woah, you look so cool, and you’re using a bow just like I am! It’s different, but I know I’ll get used to it. Maybe we can practice together?”

Jakob remained stunned and silent.

“Oh, I get it,” Kamui suddenly realizing, chatting up a storm again without prompting. “You must be from another world! That would explain the costume. Were you summoned here like I was just now?”

They might have been from different words, and yet, nothing seemed to have changed. Kamui was still a ray of sunshine and Jakob was still at a loss for words when he caught sight of his liege’s dazzling smile.

“I don’t understand,” Jakob finally admitted, shaking his head. “I mean, I know you’re my liege, but we’re from different worlds. We’re essentially strangers. This is…”

“How so?” Kamui asked honestly. “You’re Jakob, and even if you’re the Jakob from another world, you’re still you.”

Jakob paused and averted his eyes to meet his gaze. Amethyst eyes meant ruby ones. “Wait. You know who I am?”

“Of course, I do!” Kamui replied breathlessly. The poor price almost sounded exasperated. He then looked up at Jakob with eyes full of love and joy. “I’ve known you my whole life. You’re my retainer and my best friend. Right?”

Jakob’s eyes softened, and he buried his face in Kamui’s shoulder. The aroma of cherry-blossoms was sobering and especially sweet when it mingled with the essence of sweet-smelling chocolate from his own festive ensemble.

Jakob relented and decided to let go of his hesitation. Everything else was already so strange and outlandish. Finally, when the person he loved most in all his life was finally before him, why did he let the rules of time and reality disorient him? They didn’t matter for anything else, and they certainly didn’t matter for this.

“Yes, I am,” he confessed, sweeping one of his hands across Kamui’s cheek. “It’s me, my lord.”

The young prince beamed up at him. His arms snaked slowly around Jakob’s neck and brought him down into a slow and almost hesitant kiss. The chaste touch barely registered to Jakob until the moment after it ended. It was then that Jakob’s hand drifted down to where Kamui had rested it on his shoulder. There, he interlaced their fingers and placed a kiss on the price’s knuckles.

“Kamui, I never told you this back home, because I was so afraid to say it,” he confessed slowly, blush deepening from pink to mauve. “But I love you. So very much.”

This time, Kamui’s kiss was much deeper and more insistent. He kissed the man as if he was starving for air or water, and in vital need of something to sustain his being after so much time apart. Thank goodness Jakob was strong enough to lift the prince closer to his mouth and support him.

Kamui frantically murmured the words, “I love you too.”

Jakob fought from swooning. Gods, how long he’d yearned to hear those words. Instead, he closed his eyes and smiled into their next kiss, swearing that everything around him was a fantastical dream and that he was bound to wake up from it soon.

Then, he felt the pleasure-pain of Kamui’s hands knifing through his hair and giving a tug and knew with a euphoric crash of realization that everything was real.

“Jakob, will you tell me that you love me every day we’re together?” Kamui asked between kisses.

“Yes,” Jakob said, his reply blissful. He pulled away just enough for their lips to be a millimeter apart.

“And we’ll be together always?” Kamui asked again, raking his hands through Jakob’s hair and giving another tug. The brisk tug changed the angle of their kiss so he could peck the side of Jakob’s mouth. His slightly fanged teeth barely caressed Jakob’s bottom lip and he shuddered in absolute bliss.

“Yes, always,” he swore feverishly, hands clenching Kamui further into their contorted embrace.

The two kissed until their air ran out and they were forced to move away from each other. When they finally drifted apart, their eyes opened to greet each other. Both smiled and held hands tightly, never wanting to let go again.

The two would have stayed in each other’s arms all day had it not been from a soft ‘hooting’ noise from near that dais. That was right, Kiran and Feh were still nearby. It appeared they hadn’t gotten the hint and wandered away.

As soon as Kamui noticed them, his face turned scarlet and he nervously scratched the back of his head. An embarrassed chuckle fell clumsily from his lips.

“Well, um, shall we go practice together?” Kamui offered bashfully.

“Depends,” Jakob replied, an unusually smug smirk on his face that accompanied his blush quite nicely. “Are we practicing kissing or archery?”

Kamui tried his best to not burst out laughing and failed. Apparently, the joyful sound was so contagious that even the usually stoic Jakob couldn’t resist joining in the romantic revelry.

Perhaps they were from two different worlds, but they were the same two people that shared the same difficult by fateful past.

For them, that was more than enough.

Jakob slowly lowered Kamui back to the ground until his toes could touch the bottom. Then, the prince surprised him by suddenly taking his hand and joyfully pulling him down the stairs and away from the dais.

Ball and chain be damned, Jakob followed loyally and kept proper pace every step of the way. He already promised that his liege, the man he loved, would never be taken from him again.

It wasn’t long before the two were dashing down the stairs and back to the kingdom of heroes below. Kiran smiled softly at the sweet sight and Feh hooted in approval as the two lovebirds ran onward with their hands clasped tightly.

Perhaps cavorting around Askr in costume wasn’t so bad if he had someone by his side to pass the seasons, and years with.

--END--

There are too many ideas here. There are gaps in logic and reasoning. It’s super messy, really cliché and beyond repetitive in terms of language.

Most importantly, it was really fun to try something new. I don’t know how well I pulled it off, but I had an absolute blast writing it.

I noticed on my reread that I tend to use…a lot of the localized dialogue. I do really love Ben Diskin as Jakob’s English voice (I love Junichi Suwabe too, of course), so I think I tend to drift toward some lines more than others. If the localized lines are too heavy-handed, I’ll try to be more neutral.

Also, going back to Heroes, if Jakob is with F!Corrin, and H!Jakob is with NewYears!Corrin, and Felicia is with M!Corrin…what am I going to do about Summer!Corrin?

Well…I’ll worry about that when her tanned butt finally comes home from the beach and I can actually summon her. Until then, we’re all square.

Thanks for reading, and I look forward to seeing you again next time!

Heroes Friend Code [Kiran and H!Jakob]: 8633436884