#jimmy woo imagine
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captainsophiestark · 2 months ago
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Sleight of Hand
Jimmy Woo x Reader
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Written for Fictober 2024!
Fandom: Marvel
Day Twenty-Four Prompt: "You didn't do anything wrong!"
Summary: Jimmy gets a little help from his spouse to master the card trick he saw Scott Lang do.
Word Count: 1,118
Category: Fluff
Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.
She cautiously stepped around the corner, coming face to face with...
I froze, my attention drifting from the book in my hands at a weird noise behind me. It sounded like some kind of fluttering, but when I didn't hear it again, I went back to my book.
...coming face to face with-
"Shoot!"
I set my book down. The noise had come again, along with something light hitting our hardwood floors before my husband, Jimmy Woo, huffed. I marked the page in my book, set it down, then turned around to look over the back of the couch.
I frowned when I saw Jimmy with one empty hand out in front of him, like he was waiting for a handshake from someone invisible. He hadn't noticed me watching him, and after a moment of intense concentration, he jerked his arm quickly like he was trying to shake something out of his sleeve. Lo and behold, a card fell out. He tried to catch it between his fingers, but he missed, and instead it fluttered to the floor.
"Argh!"
"Honey." Jimmy's head snapped up to look at me as soon as I spoke. "What are you doing?"
"It's this card trick thing... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your reading."
I shook my head, turning on the couch to face him more fully.
"It's okay. What card trick thing?"
"You remember that guy I told you about? Scott Lang?"
"The ant guy? Yeah."
"Well, the last time I checked in on him, he did this card trick where he just made a card appear in his hand, like out of nowhere. It was actually really cool, so... I've been trying to teach myself how to do it."
I stared at Jimmy for a minute, processing. He stared back. Finally, I smiled.
"Okay. Let me help."
"Really?"
"Yeah." I stood from the couch, strecthing a little before walking around to join my husband. "I need a break from all the bad decisions the main character's making in my book, anyway. Let's learn some couples closeup magic."
*****************
I'd assumed it would be a fairly easy trick to learn. Don't ask me why, but I just figured it would take us maybe an hour, tops, and we'd both be making cards appear and disappear like pros. That was very much not how it went.
A few hours after I'd first noticed Jimmy practicing, we were still watching videos and trying to do the trick slowly, quickly, and everything in between with no luck. Technically, we were doing a little better than when Jimmy had first started, but the trick was still escaping both of us.
I watched carefully as Jimmy tried to do it again, and to me, it looked perfect. But the card still dropped to the floor instead of sliding smoothly into his hand.
Jimmy sighed, shoulders slumping as he looked up at me.
"What did I do wrong?"
"You didn't do anything wrong! That should've worked! What the fuck is it with this trick?"
Jimmy laughed, shaking his head as he leaned over to pick up the card again.
"I'm glad you decided to help me. I was getting pretty frustrated, but seeing how much more frustrated it's making you is weirdly making me calm."
I huffed and crossed my arms. "Glad I could help. But seriously, I feel like you're doing everything right. I can't tell what's wrong, or why it's not working."
"It has to be the finger movement," he said, setting up the card again. "I'm fumbling it when I'm obviously not supposed to."
"Frankly, I'm not convinced it's possible to pull this trick off without fumbling the card. Are you sure that Lang guy wasn't messing with you?"
Jimmy laughed again. "Pretty sure, but I guess you never know."
I just sighed as Jimmy prepared to try the trick again. I watched, but not as carefully as before. I'd been looking for some clue as to where we were going wrong for hours now, and hadn't been able to find it. Maybe it was just going to take a lot more practice, no matter how we tried to do it.
Jimmy took a deep breath, then extended his hand. I didn't see the card move, but suddenly, it appeared in his hand. Nowhere near the floor. Exactly how the trick was supposed to work.
"OH MY GOD!" I shouted, jumping up in the air the moment the shock wore off. Jimmy grinned, laughing in disbelief as he stared at the card in his hand. I didn't give him much time to savor it before tackling him with a hug. "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU ACTUALLY DID IT!"
Jimmy laughed again, absolutely joyous, as he wrapped his arms around me. I pulled back a moment later, just enough to kiss him. After all that work and frustration over the past few hours, it felt amazing to see him pull off the trick perfectly.
After a moment, the two of us calmed down slightly, taking a step apart even though the gigantic grins were still on our faces. Jimmy's had more of a lopsided tilt to it, which made my heart race.
"...Do you think we're celebrating this a little too much?" he asked. I immediately shook my head.
"Hell no we're not. Do it again."
Jimmy took a deep breath, resetting the card and actually starting with his hand by his side this time. He lifted it, and in one smooth motion, the card appeared in his hand, extended towards me. I actually screamed, jumping up and down, and after a moment Jimmy joined me.
I pulled Jimmy in for another kiss, and when we finally broke apart, he was still giddy. He did the trick another few times in a row, and although he stumbled a little on one of the moves, the card still didn't hit the ground. He was getting smoother every time.
"This calls for a celebratory dinner," I decided. "I'll get something started, you grab some wine. We toast to the defeat of the magic trick that thought it could defeat us."
Jimmy laughed. "Sounds like a plan to me. Thanks for all your help. I can't wait to use that trick the next time I need to give somebody one of my cards."
"You know I'm always here for you, including and especially for stuff like this. No card trick, random guy you see at work, or Avengers-level threat can stop us."
"Damn right."
Jimmy grinned at me, and I leaned in for one last kiss before heading to the kitchen. Sometimes the smaller, less important victories felt the best, and one of my favorite things about my amazing husband was how willing he was to celebrate those moments with me.
Although, after all the time we'd spent today, this victory felt far from small.
****************
Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen @misshale21
Marvel Taglist: @valkyriepirate @infinetlyforgotten @sagesmelts @gaychaosgremlin
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ginnsbaker · 2 months ago
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All Of Your Pieces (1 - Honey! I shrunk the kids! 18+)
Summary: Wanda accidentally shrinks your kids while trying out a spell that would benefit both of you in the bedroom; Jimmy and Darcy attempt to find out more about the Hex, particularly when they discover a remarkable detail about you. Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 3k+ | Tags: Smut, Campy Humor, Language
A/N: I've been working on this series since late August and have finally figured out what to do with it, enough to share it with you all. The story will be told in three parts: Westview (The Missing Town), Pre-Westview, and Post-Westview. This follows some events in WandaVision, but it's very canon-divergent. It's going to be different from my other works (I've never written humor before and I'm quite insecure about that), as this one is very plot-driven but at the same time, still very much Wanda x Reader (especially in parts 2 and 3). Updates will be every Wednesday. Chapters will be 2.5–3.5k words long, except for the ending chapters of each part, which are twice as long. So, without further ado… More author's notes here.
Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist
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“Honey! I shrunk the kids!” 
Wanda bursts into the basement, apron billowing out like a cape. Except, there's no draft down here; that apron shouldn't be moving like that at all. But then again, considering your wife’s claim, maybe the laws of physics are taking a day off.
You glance up from the miniature model home you’re meticulously working on, unsure if you heard her right. Did she really just say that? 
“You what?”
Wanda, flushed and a little breathless, skids to a stop in front of you. “Okay, so I was experimenting with a new spell, one that was supposed to…” She bites her lip, hesitating, her face glowing a deeper shade of red. “...it was supposed to do something else, but it backfired and... well, it’s not important right now!”
“Jesus, Wanda.”
Your poor, beautiful, occasionally clumsy wife stands there, teetering between a freak-out and a fit of giggles. 
“It was an accident! I didn't mean to!” Wanda shrieks, causing the room to tremble from her panic.
Wanda's powers have always been a wildcard. You can child-proof the entire house in a day, but that definitely doesn't cover child-proofing Wanda herself—especially not when your kids are involved. Luckily, the boys have inherited some special abilities of their own, which leaves you as the sole non-superpowered member of the household. With that in mind, you know better than to panic. Getting worked up alongside her would only escalate things, and you’re not exactly keen on being shrunk next.
“Okay…where are they now?” you ask as calmly as you can manage.
Wanda takes a deep breath and leads you to the living room. You trail her in silence, clutching at composure. It can’t be that bad, right? The distant sound of playful music trickling through the house almost makes it seem like everything’s fine. You hadn’t really noticed it before, but now that you think about it, it’s like your brain has learned to associate that kind of tune with situations that somehow always end in collective sighs of relief.
Sighs, giggles, and applause—sounds that don't belong to Wanda or the boys.
Where are they coming from?
Before your mind can completely sink into the oddities of your life here in Westview, Wanda halts in the middle of the living room. Your eyes dart around, searching for Billy and Tommy, but they’re nowhere to be seen.
“Where?”
“Right there,” Wanda points toward the coffee table, her finger trembling slightly.
You squint in the direction she’s pointing. Next to the TV remote, two tiny figures wave up at you—your sons, each about the size of your thumb.
“Oh my god, they’re tiny!” you gasp, covering your mouth with your hand. You expected them to be at least half their normal size—a size they might grow out of eventually.
“Shhhh, Y/N!” Wanda hisses, pressing her index finger to her lips. “The neighbors might hear you.”
Neighbors. Which usually means just Agnes from next door. There’s literally several meters of spaces between your houses, but somehow, she always manages to hear things she shouldn’t and pries like she’s in some perfectly timed routine.
Wanda kneels by the coffee table, her eyes soft. “I told them to stay right there until we sorted this out.”
The twins start making noises, sounding like tiny bells, though still hard to make out. You pull out a magnifying glass from your back pocket—has that been there the whole time?—making sure your sons are okay. As soon as the lenses zoom in on their faces, you're relieved to see them laughing uproariously, seemingly unbothered by their predicament.
“They seem... happy?” you say, lowering the magnifying glass.
“They think it's hilarious,” Wanda grumbles, her lips curling into a pout.
“So,” you sigh, pushing yourself to your feet. “Any ideas on how to fix this?”  You're tempted to suggest just letting it run its course, waiting for the spell to fizzle out, but you know Wanda wouldn’t go for that. She's fiercely protective of the twins, and you can't blame her—it’s all her handiwork, after all.
Then you hear it—a hiccup. Another follows, and then another, each one a little louder than the last.
Before you know it, Wanda's a sobbing mess.
You cup her face in your hands. “Hey, hey...it’s okay,” you murmur, gently brushing away a tear with your thumb.
Wanda’s breath hitches as she looks at you, her eyes brimming with worry. “What if I can’t fix it?”
“We will,” you promise, looking into her eyes.
A collective ‘awww’ rings in your ears, pulling you out of the moment. What the hell—where did that come from? You've had this creepy feeling of being watched lately, and it's only getting worse.
Wanda brings you back to focus when she nuzzles into your palm. “Oh, Y/N, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
You give her a small, lopsided grin and plant a kiss on her forehead. “Good thing you’ll never have to find out.” Something passes over her eyes as soon as you say it, but it vanishes in a split-second, replaced by a moment of inspiration.
“Wait,” she bursts out, stepping away from your embrace. “I think I have an idea.”
She heads straight for the fridge, and you trail after her, holding your breath.
“I’ve been trying to reverse it, but my magic isn’t cooperating. It’s like... it’s tangled,” Wanda mutters, yanking things out of the fridge.
You scowl, arms crossed, watching her. “Tangled? What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. The more I try to fix it, the worse it gets. Like it has a life of its own,” she says. she says. After a few more seconds of rummaging, Wanda finally grabs a tetra pack of chocolate milk—the twins' favorite.
“I’m hoping this will do the trick,” she says, giving the carton a shake.
You cock your head, clueless on what’s going on. “Honey, what’s going on?”
Wanda mumbles, barely glancing up as she vigorously shakes the carton. “Just doing what it says—’Shake well before serving.’”
You roll your eyes, muttering, “This woman...”. Then louder, you ask, “I mean, what’s the chocolate got to do with our tiny children?”
Wanda stops mid-shake, a look of realization dawning on her face. “Oh, right,” she slaps her forehead. “You can’t read minds. I keep forgetting,” she chuckles, setting down the carton with a sheepish grin.
There it is again—a chorus of laughter from somewhere far off. Your mouth twitches at the sound—it’s really starting to get on your nerves. You make a mental note to bring it up with Wanda later.
Wanda gathers herself, then pitches her plan. “Instead of directly casting a spell on the twins, I think it’s safer to enchant this chocolate milk.” She picks up the carton again, giving it a final shake. “The idea is to infuse the milk with a spell that will gradually restore them to their normal sizes.”
You nod, beginning to understand what she’s trying to do. “Sounds less risky than zapping them with more magic head on.”
“Exactly,” she agrees, her eyes lighting up with excitement. You’d swear she’s getting a kick out of this macabre parenting hack—kids and all. The background tune keeps playing, like a promise that the universe won’t let things turn to shit. You’re wondering if maybe Wanda hears it too.
“This way, the magic is diluted and can adjust more naturally with their systems. It’s like... sneaking the cure into their bodies,” she says, snapping her fingers, red swirls of magic emanating from them to the carton of milk.
“I'm so proud of you, baby,” you say, leaning in for a quick kiss which she happily accepts. “For finding a fix, I mean. The whole shrinking our kids thing? Still not great.”
“What kind of spell do you think Wanda was going for?” Darcy asks, her eyes fixed on the credits rolling across the screen before it fades to black. She’s really gotten into Wanda’s little show, a welcome distraction from the freezing depths of hell that is New Jersey in November. Though exciting things are finally happening to her, the timing couldn't be worse. 
“No clue,” Jimmy mutters, his attention glued to the laptop in front of him. It’s been two days since Quantico sent him to look into the bizarre case of a missing town—a phenomenon almost unheard of in the 21st century. Upon arriving, they discovered that the town in question, Westview, was enveloped by some sort of anomaly—or a Hex, as Darcy has started calling it, referring to the hexagonal shape of the barrier encasing the town. 
Around the same time as the discovery, S.W.O.R.D. agent Monica Rambeau was quite literally sucked into the anomaly by accident. The only breakthrough has been Darcy Lewis’ detection of the signals, providing them with a window into the mysterious shroud, even helping them identify some of the show's characters as actual residents of the town.
But overall, they're still desperately trying to piece together why this is happening and how to stop it.
Darcy peeks over at the data on Jimmy’s screen. “Find anything new?”
Jimmy sighs in frustration. “No, not really. Everything we dig up just adds more questions instead of answers.”
“Like what, for instance?”
Instead of answering directly, he slides a thick file across the table toward her. “See for yourself.”
Darcy catches the file and starts flipping through it. Murmuring, she says, “So, Google finally returned search results?” The stack of papers is downright daunting. Jimmy’s right—any mountain of information would raise more questions than answers.
“No, not Google,” Jimmy corrects her. “Stark's highly confidential database did. The woman Wanda's married to in Westview? She’s not in any public records. Turns out her records were wiped clean two years ago.”
Darcy looks up, puzzled. “Why would Stark's company have this?”
“Just read, Darcy. It’s all in there,” he says, turning his full attention back to his research.
Darcy frowns slightly and begins scanning through the pages more attentively. It takes her a few minutes to piece together the information she's reading, with her mind going in different directions and still burning with curiosity about the spell Wanda botched.
Finally, she reads aloud, somewhat incredulously, “Subject was recognized as S.H.I.E.L.D.'s youngest marksmanship prodigy prior to recruitment by Stark Industries following the dissolution of S.H.I.E.L.D.. Subsequently provided tactical support on multiple classified operations in conjunction with the Avengers initiative.”
She sets the file down thoughtfully. “Kinda reminds me a bit of Romanoff or Barton. Total badass. I hadn’t pegged Maximoff for that crowd.”
“What crowd did you have Wanda filed under?” Jimmy asks, just out of curiosity.
Darcy’s gaze drifts off, a dreamy smirk on her lips. “Honestly? I always pictured her—or anyone for that matter—swooning over someone more…mythical hammer than tactical espionage.”
Jimmy snorts to himself at Darcy's whimsical take and says, “Of course, you’d say that. Thor's everyone's type.”
“He’s yours too?”
“Yeah, why not,” Jimmy shrugs, his tone more reluctant than sarcastic, which only amuses Darcy more.
“So,” Darcy begins, “Wanda's settled down in New Jersey, married to a woman? I mean, good for her. They all deserve a break. Maybe even an early retirement.”
Jimmy lets out a long, tired sigh, like he's just about done with everything. Darcy notices and raises an eyebrow. “What now?”
He barely glances up. “Like I said, everything’s in there. Just keep reading.”
Darcy groans but goes back to the file, flipping through the pages again. She’s about to make a snarky comment when something catches her attention—something that has her eyes practically popping out of their sockets.
“It… it says here Y/N’s dead.”
“That’s right,” Jimmy responds without missing a beat.
“Not snapped five years ago. Dead-dead.”
“Yep.”
Darcy stares at the page, disbelief all over her face. “That can’t be right, can it?”
Jimmy finally swivels his chair to face her, looking as tired as he sounds. “That’s what I’ve been trying to wrap my head around for hours. If aliens and superheroes are real, maybe bringing someone back from the dead to star in a sitcom isn’t so far-fetched, right?”
You carefully pull the blankets up over Billy, smoothing his hair and whispering a soft good night. Tommy’s already half-asleep, but you make sure to tuck him in just as snugly, brushing a kiss on his forehead. Wanda stands in the doorway, watching you, her heart swelling in her chest. You were so clueless when she first had the twins, but now, being a mother just seems to come naturally to you. 
And you pulled it off in a week, while the twins stretched into six-year-olds just as fast.
“Honey,” you call softly, noticing the way she’s lost in thought. “Aren’t you going to say good night to our boys?”
Wanda steps into the room, giving each of the boys their good night kiss. You pucker your lips, silently asking for your turn, and she playfully swats your arm, whispering, “Not here, baby.”
You pout, giving her your best puppy-dog eyes, which only makes her smile. Without warning, you grab her hand and hurriedly pull her out of the boys' room, making a beeline for your bedroom. Wanda’s laughter fills the hallway, and just as you reach the door, you suddenly sweep her off the ground, lifting her into your arms.
Wanda lets out a shriek, her laughter infectious, and you can’t help but grin, even as you let her thump onto the mattress—a sloppy, graceless drop. You follow her onto the bed, rolling onto your stomach to peer down at her, still sporting that stupid smile.
“So, about that kiss you owe me,” you whisper, hovering closer, teasing her with your proximity.
Wanda nods distractedly. “I think I can manage that,” she murmurs, and then her lips are on yours.
It starts simple and sweet. Though soon, her tongue is gently nudging your lips apart, and it quickly becomes anything but. Her hands slip down to your back, pulling you close until her heartbeat hammering against yours. You break away, lips trailing down to her neck, exploring every dip and hollow, your tongue darting out to taste her skin. When you hit that spot just behind her ear, the one that always drives her wild, she gasps.
“Don't start something you can’t finish,” she warns, her voice already thick with want.
“Who says I won't?” you shoot back with a wolfish grin.
You both fall into a familiar routine, as easy to slip into as the back of your hand. There’s no hurry, just the two of you moving languidly—whispering against skin, giggles turning into sighs and breathy moans. Sometimes, being with Wanda feels like a desperate need, as if not having her completely would literally be the end of you. But it’s moments like these that are your favorite—the ones where you’re barely even trying, yet she still comes apart at your touch, at the mere feeling of your fingers on her. 
Eventually, you both settle down, a contented sigh escaping you as you curl up against Wanda, your skin slightly damp with the effort of your love. You like this, being the little spoon, hiding your face in her neck like you’re hiding from the world, though you vaguely recall a time when it was usually her in your arms. 
As you’re staggering on the edge of sleep, Wanda’s fingers gently massage your scalp, her lips dropping soft, pensive kisses on your forehead. You're almost out, but one last question keeps you from drifting off entirely.
“Wanda, that spell earlier that shrunk the boys—what was that about?” you mumble, your words slurring into the dream nipping at your consciousness.
Wanda’s laughter rumbles through her chest, nudging you slightly from your drowsy state.
“Come on, tell me,” you coax, giving her side a playful pinch to keep her talking.
“It’s embarrassing,” she mumbles, her face turning a delightful shade of pink again that spreads down her neck and chest. Her coy reaction wakes you up some more. As a twisted kind of payback, you run your tongue rough over her nipple, snatching a sharp gasp from her. Moving up, you hold her flushed cheek, making sure she’s looking right at you. Your thigh presses between hers, and it doesn’t take long before she’s wet and ready again.
“Are you going to tell me, or do you plan on sleeping with a wet pussy tonight?” you whisper, brushing your lips against the corner of her mouth. Under different circumstances, Wanda would scold you for your crudeness, but right now, she's too worked up to care. Your dirty mouth has always been one of the most irritating yet irresistible things about you. Even having kids hasn’t changed that.
“I was trying to... enchant your...” she starts, but then your hand tightens on her butt, spurring her subtle grinding movements. By this time, she’s practically dripping onto the sheets, her thoughts scattering as the tightening sensation below her stomach builds.
“My what?” you push, smirking as you watch her fumble for words. You hoist her leg, resting it on your shoulder, laying her wide open. You slide two fingers inside her, fucking her slowly while your thumb brutally circles her clit. As she hesitates to answer, you hook in another finger, drawing a sharp cry of pleasure from Wanda. Your gaze stays locked on your wife, a part of you as surprised as she might be at your boldness tonight.
All day, she’s haunted every corner of your mind, fantasizing about stealing a quick, desperate moment while the twins are asleep or at Agnes’s. But there’s been something—an unnameable restraint—holding you back from indulging those wicked impulses. It isn’t until the boys are asleep, the house quiet, that those invisible chains start to loosen. That’s when you can finally allow yourself to desire Wanda the way you really want to. The way you’ve always been meant to.
“Your... clit,” Wanda finally spits out, seeing you've drifted off, stuck in your head. “I thought I could make it... well, longer. Like a...” She chokes on the words, too embarrassed to finish.
“Like a cock?” you throw out crudely, looking down at her impishly.
Wanda nods, mortified but also a little defiant. “Wanted you to fuck me with it,” she mumbles, finding her backbone now that the secret's in the open.
“I am fucking you,” you whisper hotly right into her ear. “But if you want it like that, all you have to do is say the word.”
Wanda clenches around you at the thought of doing it like that in the near future, her breath hitching. “Please,” she mewls, the word dripping with need. 
“Good girl,” you growl, cranking up the pace as you drive your fingers harder inside her, making her gasp and arch towards you. “You can come.”
With a choked whimper, Wanda surrenders, her body seizing as her orgasm washes over her. She soaks your wrist, the clear fluid trickling down onto the sheets, but you don't stop, pushing through every pulse of her release until she's quaking, utterly wrecked beneath you. You patiently wait until her spasms subside before slowly pulling your fingers away.
Wanda's hand shoots out, stopping your movements. “Stay,” she implores, sounding like she's on the verge of tears. You're momentarily startled by her reaction, concerned something might be wrong. Swiftly, you slide your fingers back where they belong, nestled deep inside her.
“Okay, baby, I’m not going anywhere,” you murmur, pushing back the damp strands of hair sticking to her forehead with your free hand. Exhaustion begins to cloud your senses as you sink down beside Wanda, still keeping your hand where she wants it. 
“I'm sorry for needing you so much,” Wanda murmurs, her voice shaky with tears you can't see, your cheek pressed against the pillow beside hers.
“Don't be,” you mumble, half-lost to sleep as she clings to you more tightly. “I’m here.”
“You love me,” she says, a hint of wonder, of fear.
You nod, lips brushing the nape of her neck. “And you love me,” you murmur back, your eyes slipping shut. “I'm not going anywhere, Wanda.”
“For now,” she whispers to herself, once your breathing evens out in sleep.
Tears betray her then, and she clamps a hand over her mouth to keep quiet. But just before her sobs fully break free, she flicks a finger, a thin red wisp of magic ensuring you stay deep in sleep.
With you unaware, Wanda surrenders to her grief.
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tubbytarchia · 11 months ago
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Doc and Jimmy brainrot part 1 lmao oh no
Basically "What if Doc was in the Life games and Jimmy triggered his parental instincts again". You guys will see my vision. I don't care what it takes. You will see this very specific vision I have god damn it if it's the last thing I do
This is all I have to use as propaganda right now but some ideas and justification below cut!!
Been imagining a lot of Doc/Jimmy interactions both in a traffic and HC context, both of which I'd love to draw for but obvs this for now is 3rd life and I want to draw a little something for each Life series. You'll see!!
The general idea is inspired by a moment from one of the Decked Out streams in which Jimmy calls for Etho and Doc's all "you're triggering my parental instinct... I wanna take you into my hand and take you to a safe place" yep that's it that's the whole inspiration!!
Jimmy deserves love and he does get it to various degrees ofc (Tango, Bad Boys etc) but man... It's so fun to me to imagine Doc in traffic, I think he claimed that he didn't want to be part of the life games because he was afraid of being too competitive (or so I heard), but god it's so fun to imagine big scary mad scientist goat man in that scenario and him probably going at it on his own a lot of the time, but this god forsaken mf Jimmy knows exactly how to unintentionally trigger his parental instincts. I want Doc to subtly take Jimmy under his wing especially as Jimmy keeps dying first. So maybe Jimmy is a bit incompetent and loud as far as he knows, but he sees that he's trying his best and the dad in him can't help but intervene just a tiny bit (and I do mean just a tiny bit) as the games go on. Yes I'm just gonna shove Doc into the Life Games just because I wish this dynamic could have happened and I beg you to put up with it!!
For the above drawing specifically since, sigh, I'm slow and that's all I have to offer rn... it's of course 3rd life, starting off. I imagine Jimmy's wings sprouting during that, because the whole "canary curse" began with the Life Games etc. And this post isn't about FH but just for context as I imagine it, Scott who doesn't like unpredictability convinces him to clip his wings (thanks Bree) because Jimmy's not a proper avian (unlike Grian who has a more "airborne" body, bird feet etc rather than just... wings) and he'd never be able to take flight anyway, those wings would only encumber him. (And then Jimmy keeps clipping them himself until DL Ranchers but cough this post isn't about that). I imagine the avians (for my specific roster, just Grian) have their wings magically clipped anyway just enough to prevent flight and make the games fair. Doc ofc isn't avian himself but he knows that Grian greatly frowns upon the act of willingly clipping wings so when he sees that Jimmy's quickly growing wings have been clipped as well, he can't help but ask, because why would that be necessary while his wings are so small anyway? And Jimmy's response triggers a wee bit of fatherly concern in him but thats it for 3rd life woo
For the rest I just wanna draw more tiny moments of interaction until I get to Secret Life, I guess!! The brainrot is really fucking strong guys
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eliossun · 2 months ago
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LAST SHOT - first meet
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synopsis : interning at a random ship in space sounds like a great idea for your paper. don't you think? part -> 1 | other chapters -> 2 3 ?
characters : anya, swansea, daisuke, curly, jimmy, gn!reader (daisuke x reader if u squint)
content : filler. lots of filler. lots of people being people. the series is sort of a fix it fic (?) only warning is mention of.. jimmy... eugh
wc : 3.4k+
before you read, reader is : cold, non expressive, and a psychology major...
close to an oc.. but also not an oc? features of the reader is never described, and i wrote it as gender neutral as possible
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- you were an intern in the pink pony express.
- .. more specifically, a university student with honours in their bachelor's degree in psychology. you did plan on going back to get a masters once you're done with this internship. the pay wasn't much, but since it covered your living expenses for a year, and since the internship being valid enough to put into a research paper (after confirming there's psychological tests in the ship) you say this wouldn't be so bad. 
- ..or so you thought.
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- the first day you boarded the ship, you were baffled by the lack of security measures of what, or what you can't bring to the spaceship. sure there were manuals, but the actual boarding of the ship? no security, at all.
- you knew the conditions that the company puts their employees in from online forums.. so you tried to prepare beforehand with a backpack. woo! (it took you hours to recount your basic needs)
- you managed to sneak on board your little backpack (it was huge) and thankfully, you managed to stash it away in your room before anyone else noticed. 
- .. and thankfully the directions were easy to read as well, otherwise you'd be lost.
- you don't want to bring all that around the tour of the ship either, so this would be the most efficient solution.
- pretending to be waiting in front of the ship unnoticed was also easy. however, imagine the surprise when another intern trips into the spaceship, last second.
- the captain - you find his name to be curly, only managed to give you a brief welcome, before asking the nurse of the ship - she introduced herself as anya - to show you around.
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- whilst going around, the other intern tried to start conversations with you. which briefly went as follows:
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"hey! my name's daisuke, yours?" 
"y/n."
"woah! cool name!"
"..."
"..not much of a talker...it seems... hehe.."
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- you only nod in response. 
- anya seems to have read the room, and immediately guided you away to introduce you to two other people instead. swansea the mechanic, and jimmy, the copilot.
- however the atmosphere persisted. you stayed in silence most of the time. daisuke was close to starting another conversation with you, but seemed to back out last second.
- you feel rather bad for being cold towards him. but your body is way too exhausted to respond. maybe you should’ve brought some painkillers as well..
- ... or perhaps you could pay off your sleep debt on this trip as well. ahh… a faithful wish..
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- that aside, you also found out you would be interning under anya. she was soft spoken, and overall, you have a feeling that you wouldn't mind sticking by her side for the next.. year.. or so.
- having a singular nurse for a 6-man crew isn't too bad. but now with her teaching you the basics, you think that you’re capable of taking some of her responsibilities. (you're glad to take some weight off her back)
- you agreed on weekly psych checks with the crew (much to swansea’s and jimmy’s dismay) so you’re ready to keep your journal very, very filled.
- the routine was simple. you'd wake up, check your stash of items which included - airtight sealed snacks which consisted of a lot of sweets, your journal, a lot of thrifted power banks for your ds to charge on, your ds of course, a taser, a gun, and a personal emotional support voicemail on one of your mp3 player - then go into the lounge for breakfast, and finally, follow anya around for the rest of your day.
- sometimes you would bump into swansea and daisuke while you're passing by the utility room. and sometimes daisuke stops you for a small talk
- you eventually warm up to him. he's awfully smiley for someone close to your age, then you find out he doesn't go to college, and your question was quickly answered. 
- after a bit more small talk, you realise that you both were from the same town (what a small world)
- he mentions that he missed eating a specific candy - it’s called sunshines, silly name, you know - which you could only get from the bakery near your town, and you look away, fully knowing that you had the same candy in your bag.
- .. oh well. maybe another time.
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- your interactions with swansea was rather limited.
- you both see each other and simply choose to ignore each other's existence.
- perhaps it's a part of you that sees through him. and he sees through you too. 
- silent understanding is a better word, perhaps. 
- you both only talked on the few occasions where you were there to take your psychology evaluation tests. he keeps complaining about daisuke and whatnot - but you know that look in his eyes. that’s not hate.
- after a while, he stops complaining - resorting to grunts and short answers. perhaps tired of attempting to trick you.
- quick yet blunt. the way you prefer things to be.
- you sometimes offer to read out daisuke’s psych test to him. only the parts where you deem as okay to say, though. mostly parts where you ask how his internships are, and him answering with praises towards swansea. 
- swansea refuses each time, but you read some of them anyway. when daisuke complains about swansea though, you read out his response to "how was your day". which mainly consisted of his joys of the day.
- swansea pretends he doesn't like it. once again, you know that look in his eyes.
- you thought he would be done with acting around you, but you suppose, ego can't be beaten sometimes
- you really like their father-son-like dynamic. you just hope daisuke doesn't let the old man's words get to him.
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- after doing curly's and jimmy's psych test (jimmy needed a lot of convincing in order for him to take these seriously) you find that they were friends that go way, way back.
- you're unsure if curly could see it, but you could tell that jimmy admires him. that man admires curly a bit too much. you're familiar with situations like these. you just hope it won't tip towards envy. oh who you were kidding - it's almost too late now.
- you finally realise why you felt uncomfortable around jimmy after the first month.
- the envy and self depreciation is overwhelming, and you truly applaud anyone who holds a conversation for longer than five minutes. (maybe you should applaud yourself as well)
- self destruction is the only path he’s going towards, and you would help him if he wasn’t so.. stubborn. for a lack of a better word.
- but overall, this trip isn't too bad so far. right?
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- its been a month and a half. 
- you and anya had formed some sort of sibling relationship..? 
- it started with her seeing one of your stickers you had placed on one of your items, and her nostalgia of having them on her cup as well.
- you both began to talk more from there. continuous stories about your daily life (which isn’t the most pleasant) but you got to know each other better from there.
- you were immediately stunned at her determination and passion for nursing. - and perhaps, after this all, you could plausibly send a recommendation in for her. 
- you didn’t tell her that, of course. you weren’t able to guarantee it, and you wouldn’t want to give false hope.
- you find that she was incredibly good at games after you lent her your ds. and all of sudden, her competitiveness on game board nights didn’t look so out of place after all.
- she had encouraged you to get out of your shell.. despite many protests from you. (it.. sort of works…?)
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- curly, after more interactions, seems to be a great guy. great leader, optimistic despite.. well. everything else, really. you’d be miserable if you had to live outside of earth half your life.
- the very brief interactions you have with him were pleasant. 
- a bit concerning to think he’s carrying all this responsibility for all these years though. perhaps a little rest could do - is what you said.
- he only responded with a chuckle, and a ‘it is what it is’.
- there isn’t any other response you would’ve expected from him, anyway.
- you just hope that once he does find the end of this career, he’ll find something more.. lighter.
- maybe a baker. maybe a craftsman. maybe something else entirely, all you know that this whole leadership thing might end up causing him more harm than good.
- which is what jimmy turned out to be. 
- whenever it’s your turn to do jimmy’s evaluations, you always groan a bit. 
- you show a bit of interest, and he goes the mile to talk about himself. not quite boasting - but very much putting others beneath his shoes to seem… “relatable” to you.
- you only nod. you give him a small phrase from time to time, but otherwise - it’s all nods.
- the issue with jimmy is not his current state itself. sure, it’s annoying and insufferable - but what’s dangerous is next stage of what people like him become.
- envious. greedy - dangerous. you wouldn’t trust him even if it kills you.
- and so you don’t. you try to keep a wary gaze on him.
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- another thing you find that swansea is quite similar to .. other people in your neighbourhood.
- he talks about how he’s been struggling with alcohol, on a particularly hard night.
- you listen. he keeps talking. you add on his statements a little bit from time to time, to show that you’re listening. otherwise, you’re dead quiet, eyes staring at him, and his eyes towards the false sky by the medical bed. 
- he complains to you more than anything though. about.. nearly everything. about how daisuke won’t do this properly, about the food for dinner, about him being unable to see his wife at home, how he won’t be able to see his kids grow up, and you, in exchange, tell a bit about yourself.
- he understands you; and you understand him too. you were both trapped under the same situation at the start of your lives, and you, by chance, managed to escape. 
- he makes a joke about it. it leaves a bittersweet taste in your mouth. 
- …although.. this meant that you were a bit privileged in the way swansea treated you. 
- this showed in the way that he allows you to mess with his toolbox (maybe you were the only other person who was interested in his toolbox, aside from daisuke..) 
- he teaches you the basics, and daisuke often chimes in from what he had studied before from swansea as well.
- you often thank the two for the lesson, and swansea seems a bit more smug after, whilst daisuke seems more proud of himself.. and due to that, you are more than welcome in the utility room.. from time to time.
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- ah, speaking of daisuke..
- he’s incredibly sweet. you wonder if he particularly needs the sweets anymore from how overly sweet he is. you do end up sharing your snacks either way, and thankfully, he’s obedient enough to only request one sunshine every one to two days. (at this rate, you might have just enough to last you the entire.. 9 months? close to 8 now..) 
- he also plays games, and showed you his own ds, stickers of pokemon, doodles, and small little things indicating his other interests were plastered all over it - which you end up telling anya. 
- this is where anya’s willingness to help you connect with others come in. 
- not before long, you, anya, and daisuke managed to make a post-game night activity.. which included playing the ds until you all reach the specific curfew anya had set (thankfully, she did set one, otherwise daisuke would’ve tried to beat you until his fingers fell off.)
- there was one time that he was too tired, and you had to drag him back into his room. with an arm slinged around your shoulder, and anya following behind in your footsteps, he stayed asleep the entire time.
- he wasn’t drunk. hell, do you even have alcohol in the ship? the answer was no. unless you were to drink cleaning alcohol.. but point is. he didn’t get drunk, and he was just that tired. you wonder what kind of new training he’s been trying to do.
- you tried your best to drag him, but once you were beside his bed, you had only one choice.
- you slowly placed him back into his bed, lifting his leg up to remove his shoes - before placing him properly on the bed.
- anya had already excused herself back to her room, and with the silence (and occasional snores from daisuke), you find yourself observing daisuke’s room.
- pink weights, a very, very patterned backpack, and a charger. those were the main things that caught your eyes. 
- .. and you had his ds in your hand. so out of kindness, you went over to plug in his ds for him.
- before you left him alone, you checked up on him for the last time. he’s sleeping soundly. you try to close the door as silently as possible.
- you hope he continues to dream tonight.
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- so far the worst thing you had to witness from the male was the absolute mess that was his laundry pile. 
- it started when you - whose room was beside daisuke’s - smelt something akin to the concentrated scent of the (sun) detergent.
- you knocked at his door, and only a muffled wait echoes inside, before you could hear him tripping over his own feet to open the door.
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his eyes meet yours - looking quite frazzled. He’s heaving slightly, perhaps a side effect of rushing to get the door.
“h..hi!”
the detergent smell only got stronger, and it became very much obvious that he.. had a little accident with the laundry. your focus flickers between the mess he is, and the mess behind him.
“...did anything happen?”
he chuckles nervously, avoiding eye contact.
“oooff course not! and i almost forgot that i had to- uhm- change my sheets! so see ya soo-”
right as he was about to shut the door, you had kept it wedged open with your shoes. his eyes actually meet yours, again, and you tilt your head slightly, arms folding.
“i can smell it from the hallway. let me help you.”
“no- i can do it!”
you send him a particular stare. it seems to make him falter, and you sigh once more.
“let me help you.”
he looks hesitant, his grip on the handle weakening. a moment passes, and then he closes hie eyes, and smiles at you - defeated.
“alright then... but don't be angry!”
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- as you step in the room, you’re met with the sight of.. very, very many bubbles on a stack of clothes. 
- and when you look back at daisuke, he only offers you a guilty grin, and a look that said i told you so
- that’s the story of how your fingers managed to smell like detergent for a whole week, and the event that hallmarked your almost instant closeness with daisuke.
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- ever since the laundry accident, you two have been together quite often.
- every lunch break was simply just sitting alone, until anya or daisuke approaches you. If anya approached first, then daisuke followed. if anya couldn’t join you in the lounge, then you’d go to the medical bay, and if you’re allowed in - daisuke would follow right after.
- everytime you manage to get spare time to lounge on the extended sofa, daisuke immediately joins you. the only difference from before was the way he joins you on the couch. sometimes by closing your eyes from behind and asking you to guess (even when it’s apparent), sometimes by jumping or launching himself to the spot beside you.
- every now and then, he scares the living soul out of you. he laughs until you start chasing him with a cup in your hand.
- he tries his best to make you laugh. the best he got so far was an amused stare from you.
- apparently, it’s good enough for him. he cheered the entire night you made that expression.
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- on his psych tests, he talks a lot.
- there’s.. not much time to talk to you. you only realise once he starts to talk about his week, instead of his day. 
- nowadays, you focus on getting your analysis done. how each person’s behaviour have changed - in general, of course. you’re not going to mention their every detail, and rather, you ask them to fill out little questionnaires (which is the only detail you’re submitting)
- usually, before you got close, he mainly talks about his day, and only his day. 
- sure you spent a lot of time together, but since this was the only chance to be truly alone, it’s usually the time that he opens up.
- he barely does so. but it’s much easier to see his emotions on his face, with far more vulnerability. 
- it starts from little things, like how he really thinks swansea might get tired of teaching him. or maybe the way jimmy got mad at him because he accidentally spilled oil on his shirt. 
- then it turns to things in his house. how he missed his mother, how he missed seeing his cat, how he felt like he had to take this internship because he felt like he had to prove something.
- you offer him hugs from time to time. he accepts them. 
- sometimes you feel tears soak into your shirt. you try your best to comfort him after. whether it would be rubbing circles into his back, or offering him an extra piece of sunshine - you tried your best.
- you know you aren’t the best at that. but if this is all you can do, then what else should you do?
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- sometimes you wonder if this ship really does need to be human automated. 
- what costs do they cut by hiring human workers instead? innovation? investment in machinery? why keep people on barely minimum wages in a random ship being sent out to space, with minimum facilities and minimum safety and security? isn’t it a safer bet to go all out with machinery, then turn a profit later down the line - rather than close to losing this hunk of metal nearly every other day?
- then you look into the lounge in what is assumed to be “six in the morning” - you don’t trust the clocks. everything feels fake - and get hit by literal beams of sunshines in your way ( read : curly, anya, and daisuke laughing together )
- maybe you can keep those thoughts for another day. you ate.. pretty okay pancakes that morning.
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- perhaps the only thing you wished you could change, in definite terms, was the way jimmy lingered around anya’s room. 
- so stop it you did. or at the very least, attempted to stop it, you did.
- that’s the main reason you ended up sleeping on the front of anya’s room. (with her permission, of course)
- the reason you proposed to her was, and you quote, 
“i keep on having dreams of cockroaches.” 
- anya looked at you half asleep. the other half concerned, worried, and confused. you shuffled in front of her room, your hand hauling a mattress and your blankets awkwardly.
- .. she finally allowed you after a small while. maybe its because you looked pathetic. maybe its something else. you do not know, and you don't want to know.
- you eventually placed your mattress back into your room (due to the lack of space, you should’ve expected that - your only reason was that you did this on a whim), and slept on the floor, facing the walls with your blanket covering you like a silkworm.
- it’s not comfortable. thank god the tulpar has - at best - subpar air conditioning, otherwise you’d freeze to death in this huge metal hunk in space.
- it successfully warded off jimmy though. or so you’ve observed. so you really don’t mind the way your back aches every morning. 
- maybe you should bring more pillows…
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the door behind you croaks slowly, and slowly- your eyes peek open, looking up at a dimmed figure. an anya-looking dimmed figure. you immediately relax back in your blanket.
“..nightmares again?” she looks concerned about your sleeping position. for a moment, you feel bad for lying.
you purse your lips, and nod at her.
“.. yeah.”
she watches from the door, and nods at you. 
you think she finally figured out that you knew about jimmy’s recent lingering. she spares you a thankful glance, and sends you a soft nod.
“..goodnight. thank you.”
you nod back, and once the door shuts back, you slump further. as much as these metal walls allow you, anyway.
you hope you dream this night. maybe of home, or of something sweet. maybe of something better.
you aren't sure what that something is. but you hope you find it soon.
but, oh, who were you kidding.
you never got the chance to dream. this night isn't any different.
you slip into a void; your body awaiting tomorrow.
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i hope u enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it .. !
initially started off as a daisuke x reader insert but i went too far and suddenly i have this.. this...... series.... will get more into the romance after i world build a bit more.. if you have any specific requests for the reader in this au, don't be afraid to shoot something in my ask box!
extra notes: in order of youngest to oldest, i hc daisuke to be youngest, then reader, then anya, curly/jimmy and swansea !
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sun & moon dividers by : @/saradika daytime screen & medical bay from mouthwashing
283 notes · View notes
charles-leclerizz · 10 months ago
Text
🏎️ ๋࣭ ⭑ cat-quette
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🏁 Pairings : Max vertsappen X fem! Reader
🏁 Warnings : fluffy as hell, suggestive language and one suggestive scene.
🏁 Word Count : 2.7k words (2742 words)
🏁 Summary : Sometimes, a family of 4 needs just one more addition, so you and your boyfriend venture out to find the perfect new daughter
🏁 translations via radio comm below
🏁 credits : word dividers by @gigittamic
🏁 Music player : Winter blossom by Dept, Ashley blossom, nobody like you pat
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“Come on Maxie, please” You draw at the syllable at the end of your plea, dancing in your spot in your shared kitchen, “Imagine it, you, me, jimmy, sassy and a third cat, we could name it, kibble or something.”
Max looked at you with a worried expression, one brow arched in questioning, “Kibble?” He continued to knead the bread dough in front of him, slamming his hands into the mixture that sat fluffy and aerated on your marble counter, “You just demonstrated why we can’t get a third cat, you’re gonna make it depressed in the first 2 days.”
“Now that’s mean.” You cross your arms over and harrumph, going over to the stove to stir the searing vegetables in the pan.
Out of the corner of your eye you see him wash his hands free of the dough that remained on his fingers before going back to the olive oil doused ball and placing it into a wooden bowl, he then laid a fresh white cloth over the dough and transferred it into the fridge for it to rise for about 40 minutes.
You then felt his presence behind you, then you felt his hands snake around your waist and then his head followed suit, nuzzling into your neck before placing a soft kiss on your skin, “I’m sorry schat.” He mumbled, tickling your ear with his soft tufts of blonde hair.
“Y’know,” You paused briefly in between your enraged sauteing, stainless steel spatula in the air, “I don’t think you are.”
“But I reeeaaallly am.” He copied your elongated whine, shifting the two of you by guiding you side to side, oscillating gently as though you were the dough and he was trying to knead the forgiveness out of you, “How about this..” he started, laughing inwardly when your ears perked up and you attempted to discreetly turn off the gas so you could spin in his hold. Looping your arms around his neck you prompted him to continue, “We could go to the pet shop tomorrow.” He murmured, looking up into the air, despite your vice like grip on his head as though the particles would answer him and not your already giddy form in front of him.
“Yeah?” You danced slightly in his hold, wiggling your hips like a hyper child, “You promise?”
“You can drive pista if I forget.” He nodded solemnly.
“Oh shit-“ You lean back, impressed with his dedication, “You really are sorry”
“dat is alles wat nodig is?” He blubbers, eyes wide for dramatic effect, as you would like to call it, “Your standards are low, real low my love.”
You furrow your brows, playfully hitting the underside of his head before leaning up to kiss his grimaced lips, "What else is new? How else do you think this happened?” You gestured between the two of you.
Max hummed, leaning down to kiss your cheek before trailing down to your jaw, he grinned against you when your breath hitched and you pulled him closer, if that was possible, “I wooed you?” He tried; you snorted in response.
“Yeah, you wooed the heck out of me, yee old Maximillian Verstappen, one foul scowl at me and bam four years later here we are.”
You yelped when he bit your neck.
“Hmm, I’m just so so handsome?” He couldn’t hold his laugh back at this claim.
“I first met you when you were a scrawny 18-year-old, but yes, you are very handsome.” you coo at him whilst caressing his face.
Max hummed in agreement, “I know.”
“You’re not going to compliment me?” You asked.
“Hmm…nope.” He shrugged.
You gaped at him for a beat before lunging at his face and taking the soft skin of his cheek between your teeth, holding it there and growling playfully. Max yelped and laughed at your pseudo-attack before pushing you away and taking your lips captive with his as revenge, “You’re much prettier than me geliefde.” He added before his tongue slipped between your lips.
“Max... the food” You helplessly remind him when he finally detaches from you, only to lift you into his arms and move to the left to sit you down onto the counter, slotting himself in between your pliantly open thighs you draw him closer despite your objections.
“Fuck the food...” He murmurs against your ear, kissing behind it and trailing his mouth lower and lower until he reached your baby blue, silk camisole. Max looks up at you briefly, his bottom lip just barely breaching the collar of your flowy top, you stare down at him eyes heavy and threatening to flutter closed with every hot breath of his that fanned over your chest.
You bring one hand away from his neck to drag down his face, your middle finger just barely anchored on his mouth, pulling down his lip until he stopped your journey south and took the soft digit into his mouth, “Yeah, that sounds fair.” You breathed out, already jumping back into his embrace, preparing yourself to slam the bedroom door closed with a breathless laugh.
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“You forgot, didn’t you?” You ask him, plugging in your hairdryer and drawing out a large barrelled round brush from the containers that sat on your counter. The bathroom door was wide open as you waited expectantly for Max to emerge from the walk-in closet on the opposite side of the room, the only divider being your bed and a half-length wall.
“What? What did I forget?” Your boyfriend looked down at his phone, waiting for a calendar event to remind him, when that didn’t happen, he looked up at you.
You remained still, just flicking on the contraption in your hands and drowning out his obliviousness with the sound of luke-warm air drying your hair.
“Babe?” he tried once.
“Babe?” He tried again.
“Babe?”
You finally snapped, large brush still wrapped in your hair as your hand pressed your silky strands into the bristles and hair sprayed the volume into it, “Max, you’re shitting me, right? That’s it, keys to the pista.” You ordered, tapping your nail against the counter space next to you.
That’s when the realisation hit the driver in front of you, his face blanched and he rushed up to you, “See, I didn’t forget I conveniently played stupid?” He tried; eyes slightly lit up with hope.
“You’re right-“ You start, snorting at the badly veiled victorious expression on his face, “You are stupid.”
By this point, Max had reached the threshold of the bathroom and had slumped forward, the only thing stopping him from face-planting the expensive tiled floor were his hands braced on the doorframe, “Not the pista, baby, anything else.”
“What about one of your Aston Martins ?,” You faced him, tearing your eyes away from your reflection in the large mirror ahead.
Max’s face fell at the mention of his beloved collection of Aston’s, “Okay, so maybe we take the Pista…”
You pouted at him, swiping on a generous amount of pink lip-gloss, “I knew I should’ve been on top last night.”
The rollers in your hair fell one by one as you undid them, smiling cheekily to yourself when Max choked on his own spit, “What’s that meant to mean?”
“Don’t ask questions, that you don’t want to know the answers to.” You pass by him in the doorway, pinching his cheeks together and pecking him quickly on his duck-lips.
“So it’s the Pista?” He hollered from his place, craning his neck to where you had turned into the closet.
He heard you snort, and the rustling of fabric before you answered him, “It’s the most expensive Aston Martin you own!”
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You ended up taking the pista.
But your resignation was soon vindicated when you broke the speed limits the whole drive from your apartment to the best pet store in the city.
“Heer, red mij” Max prayed, hand braced on the ceiling of the sports car as your heeled foot pressed even harder onto the accelerator, the car purred happily whilst you cruised along the mountain road, the view of the crashing waves almost therapeutic, until the serene scene was broken with a-
“BEN JE NET 150 KM/U BREKEN? HOE?” A shaky finger followed promptly afterwards, tapping the speedometer a few times.
You blow a nonchalant breath through your lips, “You’re a formula one driver Maxie, why are you so scared?”
“We don’t normally drive like hooligans, it’s precise and practise-“
You interrupted his rant by miraculously increasing your pace and speeding down the empty highway ahead, Max slammed one hand against the window as an ungodly screech erupted from the 3-time world champion.
Safe to say, you arrived at the pet store in a safe condition.
Never mind that Max had rushed out of the passenger’s seat to press a kiss to the hood of the car, before running to a few nearby bushes and attempting to uproot his breakfast.
Though, with no such luck of evacuating the contents of his stomach, he waddled over to where you stood unimpressed albeit also concerned to knit your hands together, pecking your forehead a few times he allowed you to guide him into the shop.
“Oh my god Maxie, look!” You squealed, rushing up to the large glass display of a dozen or so hamsters, the various coloured furballs rolled around the spacious enclosure as you cooed down at them.
Max bent down as well, but soon caught eye of the “HALF OFF” sign and stood straight, “’M not sure geliefde, maybe not hamsters, jimmy, and sassy like the taste of em.”
You nodded once, wrenching your gaze away from one of the hamsters that you had already grown fond off to hold your boyfriend’s hand once more, “You could be less crude about it.” You mumble inwardly.
“You’re telling me, about being crude.” He scoffed down at you before looping his arms around your neck and tucking you into his side.
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The pair of you continued to walk around the retail, swerving into and out of isles whilst browsing each selection of pet that could potentially enter your home.
Max had to continuously drag you away from the more exotic selection that there was on display, that was after you had convinced the store clerk to wrap a domestic snake around his neck.
“You look like you’re about to throw up” You giggle, pointing your phone at Max, who’s face had turned an alarming red as the docile snake snuggled up to his thick neck.
“I’m about to faint, no shit right now, this is not babygirl schat, this is abuse.” He hissed, quoting what you had said to convince him in the first place, he brought one shaky hand up to pet the reptile, a laboured “shhh” noise escaping the dutchman as though he were coercing the docile animal to not strangle the life out of him.
Luckily, the over-amused store clerk unwrapped the snake from his shoulders before Max simultaneously shit himself and cried.
“Maxie, look” You rushed over to another enclosure, this time, it was a large area on the floor walled off with pet gates, plush pillows were propped up against the black grate along with tumultuous cat toys spread across the floor. Luckily, to match the mess, there were at least 15 kittens, all different breeds, some were sleeping on their tummies, fluffy eyes closed as their four limbs spread out oddly whilst others were being entertained by other enraptured patrons.
“Hi guys,” You whispered, tucking your skirt beneath your thighs as your crouched down again, coming eye to eye with the adorable animals, “You’re so cute,” Max had joined you promptly, hitching up his jeans as he lowered himself next to you, large blue eyes following the cats.
A worker noticed the two of you and left their previous customers, a couple, much like yourselves, the two people cuddled a soft brown kitten who nuzzled into their shared embrace.
“Hi! Can I help you?”
You looked up at her, smiling, “My boyfriend and I were looking for a new addition to our family, I would love to bring home one of these guys.” You gestured to the large play pen.
“Well, that’s just lovely! But the cat’s choose you guys, not the other way around.” The middle-aged woman laughed, her olive skin stretching as she unlocked the gate and ushered the two of you in, “That’s how me and my husband got our cat.”
“Oh...” You stood eerily still as multiple odd fluff-balls came and sniffed your heels before trotting away, “What if none of them like me?” You whisper to Max, who already housed at least 3 kittens by his feet, “Nonsense, you just have to be patient darling.” He kissed your cheek and rubbed your arm comfortingly.
After about 10 minutes of you gingerly attempting to welcome a companion into your embrace, a smaller, more fur decadent kitten walked out from behind the small playhouse that sat in the far corner of the enclosure. It cocked its head curiously at you before yawning and shaking its back, and rump, its snow-white fur oscillating with its movements.
“Hi honey,” You whispered, bending down to allow it to clamber sleepily into your lap, you squealed internally, standing up once again with the kitten safely embraced into your arms, its back angled comfortably on your forearms and head rested on your chest whilst it blinked slowly at you, pale green eyes shining happily.
Max grinned serenely at the pair of you, watching as you brought a hand up to rub gently on the pink nose of the animal in your care, “I think you just got chosen.” He laughed quietly, his chin resting on your shoulder as he gazed down at the sleepy cat.
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“Her name’s pookie.” You declared giddily as you approached the car, holding out your hand for the keys to the expensive car. Max stared at you, fear evident in his eyes.
“You can name her whatever you want, but you are not driving the car, we have precious cargo now,” He petted pookie behind her ear.
“Fine, come here baby.” You barely pouted, already taking pookie and her small, shell shaped bed into your arms. She rested peacefully in your lap, purring contently as Max hauled the other pink cat care items you had bought, into the back seat.
“So, I just had to buy you a cat?” Max inquired; hand braced on the back of your headrest as he backed out of the parking spot.
You lean over the dash to kiss Max’s stubble covered cheek, “It’s so easy to please me, my love.”
“Well….” He squeaked, looking over at you suggestively.
“You perv,” You smacked his forehead but laughed nonetheless, “There’s children present.”
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“So, Max?”
The driver perked up at his name, flipping the microphone in his hand to answer the question, he leaned back against the white sofa where he was joined by a few other of his fellow colleagues all of whom turned to the questioner in the sea of reporters.
“We’ve heard you have a new addition to the family?”
Max laughed into the mic, before adjusting the cap on his head and nodding, “Very true yes, the missus and I just got a new kitten into the house.” He plucked out his phone and held up a photo of you and Pookie, both of whom were turned away from the lens to face the large window showing of the Monaco coastline.
A flurry of ‘awws’ escaped the people present, and Charles who also swooned at the photo spoke into the mic, “Do you guys have a name yet?”
“Kind of, she wanted to name it ‘pookie’ and I just think that when I talk about the kitten, I’ll sound like an idiot, it doesn’t feel right with my accent.”
Charles popped his mouth open, “Wait- you call me pookie?”
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Back at home, you had snuggled up to Jimmy and Sassy, both of whom had settled with laying their heads onto each of your legs whilst you held Pookie close to your chest, caressing her cheek, “That’s what you get leclerc.” You snarl at the screen, “Stealing my boyfriend, leaving our children fatherless, you whore.” You joked, filming your commentary to send to Max, who on the television screen was already justifying the similar names between his new daughter, and his work wife.
Pookie blinked up at you, and you swore, that she smiled at your determined face.
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📻 Kcccchh.... come in.... come in...translatiion available...over
📻 Kchh...Dutch....to english....over
dat is alles wat nodig is ? - that's all it takes ?
Geliefde - Love [r]
Heer, red mij - Lord, save me
BEN JE NET 150 KM/U BREKEN? HOE? - DID YOU JUST BREAK 150 KPH? HOW?
schat - Darling/Love/Babe [term of endearment]
828 notes · View notes
clockwards · 17 days ago
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some dumbass interactions based on my fic series (beginning with the music is getting stranger). no real spoilers, just stupidity
Joel: get in loser, we're going shopping
Cleo: this family is a fucking nightmare
Martyn, the nightmare: ikr
Grian: i dont like you at all and resent the suggestion id have such baseless feelings. Anyway, wanna be immortal with me forever?
Pearl: i licked it so its mine
Jimmy & Lizzie: thank gods we're such beacons of sanity and stability. Btw we killed a guy.
Mumbo (a zombie): existence is a prison. i had the gentle repose of death torn from me by the very people i love, and it is my burden to bear as much as it is my blessing.
Skizz (also a zombie): woo! yippee! weeee!
Etho: i need no sleep. Im cold. Im stone. Im tough. Im not sleepy, bdubs, im NOT, STOP-
BigB: i speak for the trees. They say... AAAAAHH HELP AHHH ARGHGGGG AAAAAHHHHH
Scott: they say anything else?
BigB: no thats it.
Martyn [reality TV interview style]: everyday, i wake up to horrors beyond your comprehension. Like, I can comprehend them, but you cant. Sucks to suck i guess.
Ren: what if i knew you because i was you? What if i lived within your very muscle and bone, understood every ache from the inside out, became you in all the ways that mattered, and loved you through it all?
Martyn: cool i guess. Look at this snail i found.
Gem: i have experienced realities and dreamworlds beyond your imagination. I have witnessed you love, hate, kill-
Pearl: was i cute?
Gem: what.
Pearl: when you witnessed me. Was i cute.
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cadencelistic · 2 months ago
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this is gonna be specific just hear me out okay this came to me in a vision +good for writing motivation or practice or whatever
imagine reader is some famous celebrity singer actor whatever and they go on the ship for whatever reason..maybe they really like space or something idk
how would they all act towards them?? would the way theyre treated get changed from their popularity?? 😳😳😳…?i cant imagine jimmy or curly acting too different towards them but daisuke maybe?? hes a fan idk im just thinking…
I'd imagine reader got on the ship because they wanted to experience space.... And because they paid lots for it.
Both before and after crash hc >∆<
Reader death not specified
Yes there's Jimmy, he's the tw
Curly
Before-Crash:
- Confused why Pony Express gave this.. celebrity.. permission to get on a cargo spaceship.
- Tries to be nice. He doesn't act like those ppl that are super excited to meet a popular person. To him, you're just another human.
- But of course, if you make a mistake on the ship he'll go a little easy on you. He assumes you probably didn't get much.. training.
- You're his responsibility as well now! But he also is probably too busy to give you a tour of the ship, he'll ask one of the others. ( Definitely not Jimmy or Swansea. )
- If he's interested in you..... I guess, small flirts when he's off the clock. He takes responsibility!
- Compliments your work if he's a fan.
After-Crash:
- Curly feels embarrassed, and even more embarrassed if he's interested in you.
- At some point, thinks you'll come back to earth and tell everyone what happened and how bad he is at being a captain. Plus, destroying Pony Express's name that MIGHT land a lawsuit.
- During all the........ Deaths, he felt bad that a person that shouldn't even be connected to all this is paying the untold price of going on the ship with them
- Probably wanted to kill himself when he was brought to the table and saw all those corpses!!
Swansea
Before-Crash:
- Doesn't give a shit
- Probably treats you JUST like Daisuke but is a little less aggressive..
- Actually, I think he thinks you're a liability and dislikes you because you're just a rich piece of shit that thinks they can do wtv they want
- Might MIGHT complain and say that you're a liability when something bad happens
- If he's interested in you, you probably remind him of his wife by appearance LMFAO, I'm just kidding I'm not funny.
- If he's interested in you, he'll treat you a little nicer.
- I don't think he'll be a fan..... Unless you're like, Shelly Duval or Frank Sinatra or something. (RIP SHELLY DUVAL AND FRANK SINTRA I LOVE YALL)
- Won't say he's a fan though.
After-Crash:
- I have a gut feeling that he'll act like those drunk adults that go like, “Isn't this how you teenagers do it? WOO!" But like in a "Aint this how you people do it in Hollywood?”
- Says you should get less food because you dont do work around the ship. Won't say this if... He's interested, or only if he's drunk and mad or mad.
- If you die before him, he'll feel a little guilty like he does with Daisuke. I don't know if it's a lot of guilt, but enough guilt.
Daisuke
Before-Crash:
- FUCKING ECSTATIC.
- Wants a picture, and a signature. Treats you special because you're a celebrity.
- Uses his free time to be your friend. If he's interested in you, hes gonna try to impress you with his intern task (Swansea fucking hates it).
- Brings you to fuck around in the ship because I'll assume that you're about the same age, or you at least have the same age mentality.
- If he's a fan, he's way worse/better. Your decision.
After-Crash:
- Once again, if hes interested in you, he tries to be your big prince charming. When they start rationing the food, he gives you more
- I don't know if he'll prioritise you because you're a celebrity, but he tries.
- Tries to cheer you up when things get bad
- If you die before him, he kinda just............ Guilt. Yeah, thats all. Kinda feels like he didn't help enough.
Jimmy
Before-Crash:
- Thinks you're a liability 2.0
- Doesn't respect you
- Thinks you're a bitch because your life is better than his on Earth
- Probably.... JUST PROBABLY, daydreams about doing things to you so he can 'humble' you. Likes the thought of such a loved and respected person gets humiliated.
- If he's interested in you.... He'll have worse thoughts.
- Probably complains about you, in front of you.
- Not a fan, doesn't like the internet.
After-Crash:
- Now thinks youre... Still the biggest liability of the ship. In fact, you're the worst of the worst.
- Says you should get less food because you don't do any work 2.0
- If you die before him... Awesome! Doesn't care. Won't spare you even if hes interested, but cares.
- Gets married to your corpse, AGAIN I'M KIDDING. Doesn't strike me as a person who'd get married unless it benefits him, actually nevermind, go read Jambalaya Enthusiast's fic about Reader in the film industry in Jambalaya Enthusiast's Masterlist.
Anya
Before-Crash:
- Might be curious?
- She'll be nice >u<
- Yeah, she's probably the one giving you a tour!
- Anya will be a little concerned that a person like you is on the ship. In a way that she's concerned that a person who doesn't have any training is on the ship.
- She'll be glad to help you with anything, like motion sickness.
- If she's interested, she'll try to do little gestures for you. I think her love language is acts of something something, I forgot.
After-Crash:
- Anya doesn't really want you to come into the medbay and look at Curly.
- She gets super nauseous, so she doesn't want you to get super nauseous in an unfamiliar and stressing environment.
- Perhaps will give you a little of her food with you. I feel like Jimmy has engraved into her brain that she's not a good enough nurse, so she thinks she doesn't deserve the food she eats ( because Swansea and Jimmy say you don't deserve the food. )
- Comfort her, she's dying in her thoughts and wants to go to the medicine supply.......
- If you die before her, she will actually start spiralling.
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noirsdoll · 10 days ago
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Loving your dad Curly x daughter Reader!! Can totally imagine Reader being super possessive of her daddy, he's a single father and HOT so he gets so much attention from women so she has to make sure nobody tries to woo him (like Curly would ever care about any woman besides his daughter). She would probably harass poor Anya just for working so closely with him, tells her "Maybe instead of flirting with my dad you should concentrate on getting into medical school." Daughter Reader is literally like Jekyll and Hyde, face of an angel and behaves like one most of the time, but if anyone even tries to make a move on Curly she's making their lives miserable (Curly thinks it's cute)
cw: father/daughter incest
thank you for the ask!! i loveeee devious readers they’re so fun to write. and curly is definitely a dilf sighh he’s just one of those guys who ages like fine wine.
curly would def find some way to get you on the tulpar. he’d pull strings the same way daisuke’s mom did. he just doesn’t trust you alone for that long. totally. not because he likes the way the pony express uniform looks on you. and how you keep good company on his piloting shifts.
yeah i agree i feel like curly wouldn’t take reader’s bitchy treatment of anya seriously, he’d just consider it a “catfight” or something. and like the second curly turns his back you just go from the cutest thing to an actual supervillain like the crew are all so done with you and you could not give less of a fuck.
jimmy would come forward (he’d be the only one brave enough) and be like “your daughter’s a fucking narc.” and curly would say “ohh she just doesn’t get out much” and dismiss him. your discontent for everyone but him is almost a natural reflex. you’re the only one that understands him the best, that’s actually a good fit for him.
if curly does acknowledge it, he clearly doesn’t mind. he lets you share a bed with him and spend every waking moment together. least he can do, right?
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amethystfairy1 · 8 months ago
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Hello I have glamor head-canons to share!! Woo! I’d be happy to hear your opinion on it! (It’s mostly based on blazeborns)
uhh hope you don’t mind this absolute wall of a text… :>
I’ve been imagining blaze rods as a sorta way to keep track of how much glamour the little guys have. For example, I imagine Grian has five, pearl has three, jimmy has two, tango obviously has three, Sausage probably has four since he flies using it, x has one, oli, fwip and pix has two etc.
basically;
With one (blazerod amount of glamour) subspecies with more complex glamor abilities will barely be able to use it (like x). Although those with more simple abilities are just fine (you’ll be able to fly okay with wings but not great). They can hide small things (like dog ears and face wings etc) for a while (3-5 hours) medium things (like a dog tail) for a short while (0.5-1 hours)
With two you can use most subspecies specific abilities. And hide medium sized things for awhile and larger things for a short time
Three is the most common amount of glamour for most subspecies. The glamour can hide things a little longer, and use all but complex subspecies specific abilities without trouble. (An exception would be blazeborns, tango can use fire and stuff but he seems to struggle)
With four you can change small aspects of your appearance for a short period of time and you can shoot small amounts of glamor with assistance from enchanted objects.
At Five is an unusual high amount of glamor for most subspecies (non witches) here you can shoot glamour without an enchanted object (although having an enchanted object greatly improves it) and change medium parts of your appearance for a longer time period. You can even turn invisible for a short period of time. (As shown by grian)
Six is witch territory you can brew some simple potions and cast simple enchantments. You can also shoot a beam of glamour with an enchanted object but it will exhaust you.
Seven is pretty common for blazeborns and witch subspecies. Blazeborns need more glamour to use their subspecies specific trait (fire) and with seven blaze rods they can easily start fires and craft beads without needing any breaks. You can shoot beams of glamour with an enchanted object without completely exhausting you, but you need to recharge before you can do it again.
Eight is almost unheard of for non witch subspecies, those that do have it are usually undead as they need glamour to stay animated (half alive?). You can shoot a beam of glamour without any assistance but draining glamour that fast without an enchanted object can be dangerous.
Nine is for as far as the undercity is concerned, impossible for non witch subspecies to have and be alive. Not unheard of for undead subspecies, but about half of it is needed to stay undead so they are more like those with five blazerod amount of glamour than anything. At this level you are a great witch and powerful enough blaze to be a pyre of a small community.
With ten or more blazerods blazeborns are well off as pyres
At this point even for a blazeborn or a witch the glamour can be a bit of a struggle to control, but with proper training, dedication and care you can become a truly powerfully witch
Blazeborns with twelve blazerods are said to be truly blessed, it is very rare and those blazes that do have twelve blaze rods are trained specifically to become pyres. That training is especially necessary as with this much glamour a reckless blaze risk to burn themselves up entirely. There is a children story about a blaze born who burned everything until they were nothing but walking burned bones with a blue flame that will haunts defiant children.
I am curious if you’ve made a way to measure glamor? (Either in-universe or just for you to keep track of it) If not feel free to use and modify my head canon however you please!
(I do have some more things, especially on the undead and glamour burnout/overcharge, idk about you but I like there being consequences for powerful beings)
Whoa, this is super cool! I love seeing headcanons and thoughts on this!!! I will say if we're using the hypothetical "blazerod" measurement, i think you're shooting a few people pretty low. Jimmy and Fwhip in particular. If we follow your cool little list here, Fwhip is probably more in the 4-5 range, at Grian's level, and Jimmy is around 3 while Pearl would be closer to 4.
Fwhip changes his appearance to look completely human despite being very non-human in appearance in 'Sightline Sunrise' and he can run while still invisible even when he was a little kid as we see in 'Blessings in Disguise' when he steals Pix's wallet.
Jimmy turns himself and Scott invisible in 'Gutterline Sunshine' and the ability to turn invisible for very short periods of time (2-5 minutes) is actually a skill that lands more in the 3 range, and it's just that the duration of maintaining the invisibility is the tricky part.
I am quite curious what you mean by the undead folks using glamor to stay alive? That's such a cool concept! I don't confirm or deny any of this because y'know...spoiler territory 😅 but I LOVE seeing this sort of stuff, I assure you!
I love the childrens legend about the spooky burning skeleton blaze-born 😆
I don't really have a specific measurement, because I like to think of glamor as comparable to athletic ability. Some people are more gifted with certain athletic skills, but that doesn't mean someone less gifted can't work really hard and BECOME as good. Glamor is a skill, it requires practice just like anything else. The thing is people are born with a ceiling to their abilities that no amount of hard work can get them to break through. That ceiling is the sheer amount of glamor they have! So someone with weak glamor, like X or Tango, just aren't going to be able to train themselves up to the same skill set as people like Grian or Shelby!
Thank you so much for sharing this! Hopefully this makes sense! 💖
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violetmuses · 15 days ago
Text
Roman Reigns + Female Reader (Part 2) 🖤
Fandom: WWE 
Character: Roman Reigns 
@episodes-ff @expert-texpert @persethegawd @adriennegabriella @fearlesschimera @secretlifeoofmarpessa @mytribalnightmare @adoresmiles @blackgurlnhermoods @babybratzmaraj 🏷
Part 1
====
2021 
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“What are you doing?” His strong voice calmed down when Roman called your hotel room one evening. 
“I'm going to bed. See you tomorrow.” Production would handle another episode. 
“See you then, but I can't sleep.” The Southern accent pulled forward again. 
“Damn. Sorry.” Your heart sank while time on the road could drain anyone. 
“Miss you.” His deep yet gentle tone offered kindness. 
“Ro…” You can't help smiling for just a moment tonight. 
“No pressure, but I won't lie about anything.” The response eased so many questions. Even on camera, chemistry burned. 
“Me too.” You'd stay honest because there's no other choice. “Hope you sleep better.”
“Thank you, Sweetheart. Good night.” His peaceful laugh ended the conversation. 
*****
Right before the scheduled match would take place, Samantha noticed you. 
“We've just started working, but our team had an important question.  Would you introduce Roman and The Bloodline?” Irvin smiled at you during rehearsal.
“No, thank you. You're the best.” You declined the chance and knew that Samantha worked so hard to reach this point. 
“Thank you, but it wasn't my idea.” Samantha held her heart. 
“Jimmy?” You nearly shouted and moved toward your “brother” Jimmy Uso. 
“Hold up. It wasn't me, I promise!” Laughing, Jim raised his hands to surrender. 
“Big Head!” Almost immediately afterwards, you walked to Jey and crossed both arms. 
“Hey! It wasn't my idea, either. I'm innocent, all right?” Jey chuckled back. 
“Then who?” You've quickly scrunched up your face.  
Incoming footsteps silenced various forms of chitchat and Samantha almost gasped out loud. 
Donning athletic styles once more, Roman entered as Paul Heyman trailed right behind him. 
“What's going on?” You looked at Samantha right away.  
“Roman called us this morning and wants you to do it.” Sam turned in the opposite direction before your voice could protest once more. “Love ya!” 
Holy shit! You thought. 
*****
Three roaring drum slams pulled this building into outright chaos and heroically ominous music would soon carry that future introduction here. 
Blue lights flickered throughout the large-scale environment and you simply waited.
“Ones” drifted up high this evening as you lingered next to Samantha. 
“I'm right here. You can do it.” Irvin encouraged your voice no matter what. 
“Thank you, Sam.” The gratitude only whispered in return. 
“Woo!” Fans cheered for The Bloodline just before you started speaking. 
“Ladies and gentlemen.” Your voice finally bolstered excitement. “Please welcome Special Counsel Paul Heyman, our undisputed  Tag Team Champions: The Usos. And acknowledge the Universal Champion, our Tribal Chief: Roman Reigns!”
Thousands of people shrieked beyond words and Samantha almost cried and jumped up, genuinely hugging you on camera. 
“For the first time since Samantha Irvin has debuted, this torch will pass.” Commentators welcomed your chance. “We can't imagine how she feels. What an honor it must be to share this incredible moment with the world.” 
This commercial break lined up as expected, but there's no better feeling in the world as you kept smiling. 
_____
“Before we start anything out here, I want y'all to know that this is the best night of my life!” Taking his microphone, Roman spoke up in that ring first. 
Out of nowhere, fans would start chanting your name.  
“Hear that?” Jimmy and Jey encouraged another special moment for you. 
“Gave us a hard time at first, but you just did the impossible.” Roman turned by your direction. “Our family doesn't quit and we are so proud of you!”
Countless fans would keep cheering even louder than before while longtime production cameras greeted your emotions near Samantha Irvin. 
“The Tribal Chief has spoken. Welcome to our program!” Announcers helped this impromptu moment before timing really continued on air. 
******
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“It's all day.” Roman almost barked while locking down another opponent. “I'm a heavyweight! I'm the only man here. I'll lay on this little bitch all night long. 265 pounds of ‘can't nobody do nothing!’ 
“Stop looking at me like that!” You playfully nudged Samantha during the match tonight. 
“Now he's riled up. Don't get in trouble!” Sam joked about you and Roman, humored. 
“I haven't done anything.” You quickly defended yourself. 
“That's not what I heard.” Samantha fooled around. 
“If Jey started talking….” You shook your head at this point.  
“No.” Samantha refused. “I'm just telling you. This could be more than friendship.”
“TV banter doesn't count.” You've still known so much better. 
“You're sweating.” Samantha couldn't fight this laugh again. 
“Spotlights.” You fibbed a little, knowing that Reigns captured your attention. 
Ding, ding, ding! 
Even when Samantha announced Roman's victory once more, your happiness didn't waver. 
Nothing could stop The Tribal Chief. 
=====
2024 
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“Oh my goodness! Roman Reigns has chosen vengeance over family to hit Seth Rollins with a chairshot.” Commentators pulled dramatics in the middle of Wrestlemania 40 against Cody Rhodes. 
“What?!” Shouting, you jumped up and tears reached your face while Samatha hugged you close. Thousands of fans yelled upon realization. 
Both anger and grief coursed through your veins. 
No one told you that Roman would take this chance near Rollins, thereby costing himself the championship title! 
“The WWE Universe is electric tonight!” Commentators explained more and more noise from this crowd with each passing moment. 
“Why did you do that? The Bloodline just pulled all that work for nothing! What is wrong with you?” You can barely process what’s going on, absolutely disappointed in Roman. 
One publicly dark moment on live television crushed four amazing years of power and kinship for his character. 
On the other hand, Roman dropped down, giving Cody enough time to line up his long-awaited victory. 
“Go, Cody. It’s your time. Finish the story!” That uplifting announcement pulled heartstrings around the world. 
“Here is your winner.” Samatha could barely hold back tears right now. “Our new Universal Champion: The American Nightmare - Cody Rhodes!” 
Dropping this microphone, Samatha opened both arms to hug you during Cody’s special celebration. Even loved ones entered the ring as fans cheered for this brand-new era. 
The Rhodes family would keep their legacy alive at last. 
_______
With Cody exiting the tunnel alongside his favorite people, you pulled countless emotions together and waved, definitely proud. 
“Congratulations!” You quickly raved this time around. 
Joyful cheering would move throughout this large hallway and Cody just smiled right before leaving. 
“You good?” Your “brother” Jimmy Uso turned the corner next and noticed drying tears right away. 
“No.” You sniffled. “Roman lied to me, Jim. I didn’t even realize that Seth would show up tonight.” 
“Damn. For real?” Jim can’t believe what happened, either. 
“Yeah. We scheduled the match for a while now, but Roman never warned me about the chairshot during rehearsal.”  You’re exhausted, sitting down in this hallway. “This changes everything.” 
“Hold up. Win, lose, or draw - you’ll always be my sister.” Jimmy still offered kindness to you no matter what. 
“Thanks, Uce. Ride safe.” Your heart just pulled this tired embrace before Jimmy stood and left tonight, keeping you alone with private thoughts. 
________
Marching footsteps woke up your senses again and you stood from the floor, trying to walk away before Roman could “defend” himself. 
“Baby? Princess? Listen, it was the show..” Nicknames and apologies echoed from his strong voice, but your heart dropped all over again. 
“Don’t talk to me. You lied, that’s not okay!” Tears flowed once more and your own voice struggled. “We promised each other…” 
“I know..” Roman’s tone nearly wavered. 
“Don’t talk to me for a while.” You can’t handle another argument and need to settle down. 
You stormed out before Roman could say anything else. 
*****
Soon enough, social media platforms blew up the Wrestlemania aftermath and your sister Naomi, Jimmy’s wife, pulled up her phone in this tunnel. 
“Look!” Naomi projected. You huddled with Samantha, outright curious while debates pulled everywhere between Cody and Roman. 
Yesterday, I mourned. Today is Day 1.  Out of nowhere, Reigns posted this shirtless treadmill video to signify his potential comeback.
“Uh-oh.” Your colleagues realized this moment, but you shook your head, walking away to hustle. 
Who knows what could happen next? 
****
Months later, SummerSlam reached calendars located everywhere and you didn’t know what to expect, just ready to watch absolute cinema. 
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During this big-time event, the arena darkened as blue spotlights illuminated the space unexpectedly and your heart almost jumped out of place. 
No! When percussion thundered out loud and this valiant instrumental returned, you almost fainted in Samantha’s arms during this broadcast. 
“Holy hell! Our Tribal Chief Roman Reigns has returned for the first time since losing his crown at Wrestlemania 40.” Commentators encouraged that unbelievable moment. 
Sporting gloriously dark hair with one slightly greying beard, Roman scaled this black graphic t-shirt over his muscular frame and walked along in matching pants. His sneakers would march for battle once more. 
Just when this man could sprint to that ring, Reigns locked one glare for the first time since you left, almost turning in slow motion. 
Three unexpected words drifted by your path before Roman launched the downfall of Solo Sikoa. 
“I love you…” 
“Here we go, ladies and gentlemen.” Commentators relayed madness again. “Reigns just landed an incredible Superman Punch to Solo Sikoa!” 
Nothing makes sense. You’ve blinked tears away just before Roman leaned against the iconic ropes. 
“Ooh-wa!” Reigns lifted both arms and yelled to the ceiling, charging forward as thousands joined his famous battlecry. 
“The Roman Empire is back in place with an amazing Spear!” Cheering almost overwhelmed the announcement team, but you didn’t care, just grateful to watch everything plays. 
“I’m here! I'm back. Ya’ll need me now? C’mon!” Even production cameras welcomed back the Tribal Chief during this throwdown. 
Bawling your eyes out near Samantha, you lifted one finger towards the sky and would never look back again. 
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calciumdeficientt · 5 months ago
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hi if i dm you my oc for bully can u do the headcanons thing? also for characters how would you feel about doing hal from the greasers? he’s my favourite and i think he’s pretty underrated
Feel free to send your oc over! I’m am genuinely obsessed with other people’s ocs everyone puts so much thought into them, in the meantime please enjoy my Hal hcs :3333
If Hal has no fans I’m dead. They could never make me hate you Hal Esposito
Hal Esposito hcs
- one thing i alway hate hate HATED about Hal’s voice lines was how rockstar trivialised his fatness and made it the crux of his personality because haha fat = funny but i like to think what it actually stems from is an overbearing mother trying to make up for lost time
-the greasers canonically live in and around the most underdeveloped and deprived areas of bullworth, so its not a particularly bad shout to assume Hal grew up poor, maybe with very little to eat, hence now… its all he can really think about
- also in the voice lines from when jimmy has to fight to earn the greaser’s hideout, Hal offhandedly critiques lucky for not enjoying his preferred channels “what, natural disasters and war footage doesn’t do it for you?” So i also like to imagine Hal is kind of a big history buff, and in true boy fashion he’s particularly fixated on the history of war and combat
-secretly, i reckon he enjoys building model planes and tanks, its basically what he does in the shop but way cooler (at least to him) and the fumes are just minorly different. He knows everything there is to know about the models too, including their life size counterparts. He can tell you everything trom the caliber of the fixed guns, the length of the wheel tracks, the wingspans, even down to the serial numbers and the dates they were patented and discontinued. Shit’s majorly impressive.
- his jacket was his dad’s, him and his mum split when he was pretty young, right after his little sister was born but Hal didn’t really take it so badly, at least not as badly as his parents had initially expected. He was old enough to know what divorce was, and somewhat wise enough to see that it would be better for both parents if they cut ties. The jacket is very very vintage and is falling apart from dry rot. Hal used leather softener stuff on it and re-lined it countless times but it still looks freshly plucked from a dumpster. Not that he minds, he thinks it makes him look rugged
- speaking of his little sister, he really loves that little girl. It’s where most of his money goes, he’s so incredibly soft for her. If he could have it his way shed have every single penny out of his pocket to spend on whatever she liked. She’s only little, barely in grade school but its still all but confirmed she’s going to bullworth when she gets old enough(based on the little kids I’m assuming is a mixed middle school/high school but that’s a an entirely different can of worms) , and god help everyone then. If he’s not already graduated, Hal will literally knock his grades down low enough to not graduate if it means he can hang around and protect his sister for just a smidge longer.
-this kid is so fucking smooth, it comes in the greaser gauntlet, you’ve gotta woo the ladies (or gents, they’re delinquents, not bigots) to get in or you’ll make them look bad. Hal’s a real Casanova but he gets the piss taken out of him because his taste is a little… unconventional. He’s just ahead of the curve, and heavy on the curve. It’s all but confirmed he likes bigger ladies and honestly who are we to take that away from him?
- he does that dude thing where he’ll slap you on the back when he hugs you and he is STRONG. He’s got big calloused hands with crazy surface area that wind you for a good 20 minutes after a pat on the back. Best to avoid him on your birthday too, his birthday digs are LETHAL (is that a thing in the US its a thing inthe UK?)
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seraphtrevs · 2 years ago
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i am NOT a chuck hater, i love his character, but like. what did rebecca ever see in him? he can be passionate but only about the law and he's pretty self absorbed. he loves her, we can see that, but i imagine it took sooo much for him to eventually let her into his life like that
I think it's important to keep in mind that we're mostly seeing chuck at his absolute worst. We see a glimpse of how Chuck could turn on charm when he goes to HHM to convince Mesa Verde to stay with them. It takes everything out of him, but he hasn't always been this ill
I'm not saying he was ever as sicially adept as jimmy - in fact, chuck knows he isn't and is jealous. But being a partner in a successful law firm means he needs to woo clients, and everyone seems to remember him very fondly. When he's dreaming of being well with Dr. Clea Duvall, he talks about wanting to host parties at his home. He wasn't a hermit
I imagine he and rebecca had a lot in common - I'm willing to bet that they met because chuck was a big fan of classical music and saw her perform. Maybe he was a patron. They both love to cook gormet meals. Chuck is very intelligent and well-read, so I'm sure he can talk about many interesting subjects beyond the law. Maybe she likes a good debate.
Their divorce was amicable, done for practical reasons because her career had too much travel and long-distance just didn't work for them. She's still very fond of him. That seems to suggest he was a good husband
Like I said, the Chuck we see - paranoid, isolated, rigid - is someone suffering from profound untreated mental illness, which didn't manifest itself until just before the show begins. He's a shadow of who he used to be.
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ginnsbaker · 2 months ago
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All Of Your Pieces (2 - Liar! Liar!)
Chapter Summary: You wake up one morning compelled to say the truth and nothing but the truth. Wanda seizes this opportunity to ensure everything remains under her control. Meanwhile, Jimmy and Darcy finally discover what happened to Agent Monica Rambeau. Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 3k+ | Chapter Tags: Manipulation
A/N: Billy is my favorite twin, if that isn't obvious already :P // More author's notes here.
Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist
It doesn’t require a calendar to track the days here in Westview.
It's the kind of repetition that settles over suburban life, where dates fade into insignificance and days blur into a seamless loop, distinguishable only by the changing seasons. But even the current season—fall—is as predictable in its passage as ever, like storybook weather in its perfection. The birds are always chirping, the sun rises promptly at 6:40 every morning—never a minute early or a second late—and it never rains. Just endless clear skies, day after day, until the sun sets at five.
You've been chewing on this odd feeling ever since you and Wanda arrived in this part of New Jersey, but today, there's something extra. You can't pin it down, just that it's…there. Today feels different—more than usual—and you didn’t really get it until breakfast, when your mouth slipped past your usual tact with the kids.
“Mommy, do you like it?” Tommy asks, his eyes big and hopeful as he holds up a crayon drawing of what looks like the family standing outside a perfect little house. 
Perfect. Honestly, you’re getting pretty tired of everything being so perfect around here.
“It's...very colorful,” you start, the usual praise ready on your tongue, but what comes out instead is, “Though it's kind of all over the place, isn’t it? Maybe you could try to stay inside the lines a bit more.”
Speaking aloud is like sending an email: once it's out there, it's out there for good. Even so, an email would have been the better option. At least then, you could just hack into Tommy’s account—if he ever figures out how to set one up—and erase your blunder for good.
Could having a magical wife somehow save you from this mess?
It’s too late though. Tommy's face crumples, and Wanda doesn't seem keen on throwing you a lifeline, just a dirty look from across the table as you sip your morning coffee.
“But if you’re going for an abstract—” you start, but your son is already sulking off to his room. 
Billy digs into his cereal, blissfully unaware. Wanda, on the other hand, looks as if she's ready to rip open a portal to another realm and hurl you out of this one.
That can’t be good.
“You really upset him,” she says, arms crossing over her chest. “He was so proud of that drawing.”
“I know, I feel awful about it,” you groan, burying your face in your hands.  Seeing your genuine remorse, Wanda eases up, giving you a moment to stew in your guilt before she comes back to the table with a stack of pancakes.
“Here, eat up,” she says, setting them down in front of you.
You pick up your fork, cutting into the stack. They look perfect—golden brown, with the butter melting just right. You take a bite, and before you can stop yourself, the words are out.
“They're a bit dry,” you blurt out, instantly regretting your words. But once you start, you can't seem to stop. “And this maple syrup... it tastes kind of artificial.” 
Wanda gasps. “Excuse me?”
“Shit—”
“Language, Y/N!” she snaps, but it's too late, the curse is already out there, floating in the air like a bad smell. 
In the next moment, something strange happens—your lips tingle, and suddenly you can't feel your mouth. Alarmed, you touch your face, finding smooth skin where your lips should be. You try to protest, but only muffled noises emerge. Fear surges as you point frantically at your face. You attempt to scream, but no sound comes out.
Seeing your flustered pantomime, Wanda’s face goes from angry to horrified. With a wave of her hand, your mouth is back in its place, and you’re gasping, both of you staring at each other, not believing what just happened. Meanwhile, Billy is giggling, clapping his tiny hands together, and gleefully repeating the S-word you accidentally let slip earlier. 
You and Wanda just continue to stare at each other in shock, but then you glance at Billy, his innocent delight completely oblivious to the fact he’s saying something he shouldn’t, and you see the corners of Wanda’s mouth start to twitch. A moment later, she’s laughing unabashedly, and before you know it, you’re doing the same. 
Despite the peculiarities of your life here in Westview, you don't think you've ever been this content. Before Wanda, the idea of having your own family—your own kids, two no less—seemed unthinkable. You never imagined you'd have a wife, a house in a quiet suburb, or hear one of your sons swear for the first time. Westview is far from normal, but then again, so is your family. As you watch Wanda's laughter taper into soft giggles, you think it's impossible to love her any more than you already do.
Wanda made this all conceivable for you.
“Sorry, honey,” you say, though still a bit shaken by the ordeal. “I didn't mean to be so rude.”
Wanda looks even more remorseful than you feel—which makes sense, considering she did erase your mouth, however briefly.
“And I probably shouldn't have... you know, removed your mouth,” she murmurs, guiltily picking at her cuticles.
Admittedly, it was terrifying—one of the scariest experiences you've ever had. You certainly don't want a repeat. It makes you slightly wary of your wife, but your love for Wanda outweighs your fear. Standing beside one of the most powerful beings in the universe takes courage, and you've built up plenty over the years together. You're made for this—for her, for this kind of love.
“Apology accepted,” you say, mustering a weak smile.
Wanda's face floods with relief, then quickly contorts into worry. “What’s with you today?”
“I can't seem to lie,” you confess, realizing there's no easy way to skirt the truth. “I don't know what's happening, but I just can't stop saying exactly what's on my mind.”
She stares at you, confused and a little hurt. “What do you mean you can’t lie today? So, you’re usually lying?”
Before you can smooth that over, Billy looks up from his cereal, fixing you with that stern look that’s pure Wanda. “Mommy, lying is bad.”
Wanda’s gaze softens as she looks at Billy, then back at you, the seriousness returning. “Billy, why don’t you go brush your teeth and check on your brother? Your mommy and I need to talk for a little bit.”
“Okay, mama.”
Billy scampers off, and you feel your stature shrink under your wife's gaze, suddenly feeling every bit the child.
“What’s this about not being able to lie?” Wanda asks once it’s just the two of you.
You shake your head. “Look, it’s not that I usually lie, but today, I can’t even if I wanted to. It’s like a—a truth filter permanently switched off.”
Wanda takes a few moments to mull over your words. “Oh…” she starts, sounding half-convinced. “Maybe it’s stress,” she throws out after a beat. “You’ve been working really hard lately, haven’t you? Perhaps your mind is just overwhelmed and you need a mental day off.”
You had thought of that, but the whole situation seemed too weird for such a simple explanation. Then again, maybe seeing shadows where there aren't any is just another stress symptom. So you let it slide.
“Yeah, maybe you’re right. I’ll see if I can call in sick next week,” you mumble, trying to sound cheerful about the prospect of a break.
Wanda comes around the table and cups your face in her hands. You let her pinch your cheeks together, feeling both stubborn and a bit sorry for yourself. It's silly, but all you want is for Wanda to coddle you and make you feel better, not to dish out logical reasons for why you’re not yourself today. 
“Well, if you're stuck with the truth, let's have some fun with it,” Wanda says.
You swallow hard, aware that any question she might ask now would either please or upset her—and there seems to be no middle ground.
“Uhm, honey, I don’t think—”
“Do you love me?”
You smirk at her; that’s an easy one. “More than anything else.”
“Only me?”
You laugh at her silly follow-up. This reminds you of the early days of your courtship when Wanda was a bottomless well of need. You didn't mind at all, knowing she needed to hear it as often as you made her feel it. Initially, you were a bit bothered, wondering if your actions weren't speaking loudly enough for her to trust you. Eventually, it became less frequent, until the question turned into a statement—You love me—to which you responded with your own: You love me too. Since then, it quickly became how you say ‘I love you’ to each other.
“Only you. I'd sooner die than love someone else,” you confidently tell her.
Her smile in return is a beautiful riddle—a riddle you can’t figure out. 
“Wanda, I—”
“Do you like living here?”
“Sometimes.” The words slip out before you can think, and you're relieved to realize that your feelings about Westview are honestly not all negative. “It’s a nice town. Quiet and cheap.”
Wanda's face does something subtle. You can't quite read her reaction, but it's clear she has more questions when she doesn't park on your answer, instead moving on to something else. 
“Do you... do you remember how we got here?"
You blink at her. Initially, the question seems a bit absurd. But as you try to formulate a response, “Of course. We got married at…” you stall, your brain blanking on the when and where of your own wedding. “...then we moved into this house last…”
You try to pin down the date, but it slips through your mind like sand.
“Wanda?” A laugh escapes you, but there's a nervous edge to it. “Why can’t I remember any of the details?”
The last thing she says before flicking her wrist is, “Because you’re not supposed to.” But even that slips away, scrubbed clean from your memory by Wanda’s sweeping hand.
“Jimmy?”
“Yeah?”
“I think I found her.”
Jimmy hurried over to the tight corner of their camp where Darcy had practically set up shop for the past few days. Since the signals were first picked up, she's taken charge of monitoring the transmissions, her main focus being to locate Agent Monica Rambeau. They've already confirmed that many of Wanda's bizarre, sitcom-style characters are, in fact, real residents of Westview, somehow trapped inside whatever anomaly Wanda seems to be in the center of.
“That’s Monica, right?” Darcy points at the grainy image on the retro television set they've been using to watch the town's activities. The broadcasts come through at odd hours, which makes every second of surveillance crucial. 
Jimmy leans in closer, squinting at the screen where a woman bearing a striking resemblance to Monica appears. “It sure looks like her,” he confirms.
The woman onscreen is dressed in distinctly 70s fashion—a bold, patterned blouse with wide lapels tucked into high-waisted bell-bottoms. Her hair is styled in voluminous, bouncy curls that softly frame her face, completing the look that is so far removed from the S.W.O.R.D. uniform Jimmy last saw her in.
“I wonder what character she’s playing in the show…” Darcy muses.
A handful of nearby crew quietly look on as Monica steps out of a Hornet, a stack of papers clutched in her hand, and strides confidently toward one of those cookie-cutter houses lining the street—yours and Wanda's.
“Stay frosty, Monica,” Darcy mutters under her breath, staring unblinkingly at the screen as they watch her knock gently on the door.
It’s Wanda who greets her with a guarded smile. “Hello, can I help you?” she asks, sizing up the stranger on her doorstep.
“Hi, there. I’m Geraldine. You must be Wanda,” Monica says. Jimmy and Darcy exchange a look, both arriving at the same conclusion: whatever spell has ensnared the other residents, Monica appears to be under it too.
“Do I know you?” Wanda asks, her teeth gritted in what she hopes passes for a smile. But Wanda, she’s got a tell. It’s never hard to see when she’s faking it. The sitcom laugh track of this Westview tries to spin it as humor, but it’s clear to anyone—she’s not thrilled about Geraldine’s arrival at all.
“Oh, I’m sorry, has Y/N not mentioned who I am?” Geraldine asks mildly,  like she’s bringing up some small, casual detail—which, for Wanda, it isn’t.
“Honey, who's at the door?” Your voice drifts from the living room just before you step into view, crunching on an apple. When you spot the visitor, your face lights up with recognition, puzzling Wanda even more.
“Evening, ma'am,” Geraldine nods at you with a polite smile.
Wanda keeps darting glances between you and Geraldine, trying to piece together what's going on. And what’s frustrating her is you don’t seem privy at all to her disconcertment.
“I told you to just call me Y/N,” you admonish with a light grin. “What brings you here?”
“W-Who is she?” Wanda jumps in, keeping up her charade of a pleasant surprise.
“It’s Geraldine,” you tell Wanda, expecting her to recognize the name. Her blank, slightly annoyed expression forces you to jog your memory and that’s when it hits you that your wife has no idea what you’re talking about. “She’s my new assistant. Didn’t I tell you?” you say sheepishly.
“No, honey, you certainly did not,” Wanda replies, her smile stretched a bit too tight. She turns to Geraldine. “Aren’t offices usually closed by five?”
“They sure are, Wanda,” Geraldine replies cheerfully. It bothers Wanda how Geraldine uses ‘ma’am’ for you but casually drops her first name like they're old friends.
“So, why are you here?” Wanda asks, no longer bothering to hide her irritation.
“Oh, just dropping off some reports that Y/N needed to review tonight. Urgent stuff, you know?” Geraldine holds up the stack of papers in her hand as proof.
“Yikes,” Darcy winces at the tension practically leaking through the screen, feeling that deep cringe of secondhand embarrassment for Monica's obliviousness to Wanda's ire.
Fortunately for your assistant, you position yourself between her and Wanda, intercepting just as your wife’s temper begins to flare. You remember Wanda’s warm, almost syrupy kindness with Agnes when she first appeared, which only makes her sudden cold front toward Geraldine unreasonable.
“I completely forgot about those reports. Thanks for bringing them over, Geraldine,” you say, nudging her toward the exit. “See you Monday!”
Then, you close the door before she can add anything else, sparing both women from each other.
“So, why haven't you mentioned Geraldine before?” Wanda asks, not sparing another second to grill you about your new assistant.
You frown, thinking back. “I thought I did.”
Wanda looks at you for a long moment, her expression inscrutable. “Are you sure there’s nothing else you’re not telling me?” she demands, her eyes searching yours.
“Uh-oh, trouble in paradise,” Darcy sing-songs, stuffing a handful of popcorn into her mouth. Jimmy reaches over, trying to sneak a handful, but she swats him away.
You give her a lopsided smile, doing your best to charm your way out of the situation. The compulsive honesty from earlier isn't nagging at you anymore, but really, there's no need to sugarcoat anything in this case.
“Sounds like someone's a little jealous,” you tease lightly. And there it is again—that distant chorus of an audience, laughing on cue. You really need to talk to Wanda about this; it could be linked to all the experiments she's been doing with her powers.
Wanda barks out a forced laugh right into your smirking face. “Jealous? Me? There's no way I'm jealous of anyone, especially not Geraldine.”
“Then why did you look like you wanted to throw her out yourself when she showed up?”
Wanda's smile fades a tad, then she just shrugs. “Because she was interrupting our family dinner time. That's all.”
Normally, you'd draw this out until she admits she's jealous, but that could take all night. Right now, all you want is to kiss your beautiful wife, the only one you see. It's getting late, and not being able to touch her all day is driving you a little mad with want.
“Fine, you're not jealous,” you whisper, moving in, wrapping your arms around her waist. “Why would you be? You’re the prettiest, smartest, most amazing woman anyone could ask for.”
Wanda melts into you almost instantly. “You love me.”
“You love me too,” you say before leaning in to peck her lips. She hums happily against your lips, but just then, you hear the boys complaining about being hungry. Sharing a smile, you both head back to sort out dinner.
The episode ends, credits roll, and Darcy groans, tossing her head back. “No way. I need more of this,” she huffs, stabbing her finger at the screen. “They're perfect together. Shame Y/N’s supposedly dead. I hate spoilers.”
“She doesn’t look dead to me from here,” Jimmy says.
“My theory? That’s not actually her. I bet Wanda or someone did something to make a rando look like Y/N.”
“You think?”
Darcy nods. “With all the surreal stuff happening here? Yeah, I'd put money on it, dude.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Jimmy concedes. “Anyway, it’s a relief to see Agent Rambeau’s alive and kicking.”
“As Geraldine,” Darcy reminds him. “I wonder who chooses their names for them. Back to Y/N, what did that Howard guy have to say about Y/N being dead but so alive in Westview?”
“It’s Hayward,” Jimmy corrects her with a sigh. “He doesn’t seem interested in her or anyone else trapped inside. He’s more interested in the energy field surrounding the town.”
“And their boys?” Darcy adds, not listening to Jimmy’s rant. “We don’t have any public record of their true identities in Westview, right?”
Jimmy gives her a sidelong glance. “No records, no data. As far as Westview’s concerned, they just… appeared.”
“Typical,” she mutters, jotting down notes without looking away from the TV's static, hoping there’s a bonus episode or something.
But the screen stays blank, nothing but static for hours on end.
After hours of making love, Wanda lies next to you, watching you sleep. She’s used her powers on you before, but never here, never without your consent since you became a couple. Casting the hex was the easy part, the lying to you—not so much. Acting like she didn't know what was troubling you had hurt her more than she let on. 
She wanted to check if you were still happy here, still content, or if doubts were starting to creep in. And knowing you—the real you—you'd probably lie to Wanda just to keep her happy, just to ensure she has everything she wants. You've always prioritized her needs over your own, always stepping aside to let her shine. She wants the same for you, but you always manage to outdo her in every act of self-sacrifice.
When you started asking her about the exact dates of the wedding you thought you two actually had, it confirmed you still had no idea why you’re here, or what she’s done. She was relieved, honestly, because it meant she could stop forcing you to tell the truth, a spell she’d put on you out of desperation more than distrust.
She isn't sure how long this will last, just that it might be the most happiness she'll ever know, even if it's a delicate, fleeting kind. How did she even do this? Wanda doesn’t even know. It just happened—like a rose that has sprouted off a barren land. And now, despite having everything she's ever wanted, there’s always this nagging fear that it could all fall apart.
Quietly, she makes a promise to herself to fix things. She promises to you and her boys, she’ll find a way to make this life real, something that won’t just vanish like everything else she’s ever loved.
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weclassybouquetfun · 1 year ago
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With the release of AQUAMAN AND THE LOST KINGDOM, the DCEU has officially ended.
You could never make me hate you.
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AQUAMAN AND THE LOST KINGDOM THOUGHTS. MORE SPOILERS THAN FISH IN THE SEA.
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THE GOOD
-Loved the humour of it. The DCEU has been so serious and I find myself loving the lighter ones like WONDER WOMAN 2, the SHAZAM films and THE FLASH. Plus, Jason Momoa is better equipped for comedy/action, than drama. Meanwhile, Patrick Wilson excels at both! How great is he in this?!
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Wilson was just so game. The cockroach scenes (scenes because there is a mid-credit call-back) would have been downright dumb if it was played by someone less committed than Wilson.
And the humour in their interactions weren't clunky because this is Arthur having the brother experience that he never had. It ties back to his father Tom (Temuera Morrison) saying Junior should have a sibling and how he wished Arthur had one. Now we see it played out, complete with the older sibling bullying (convincing Orm to eat a cockroach by saying it's the shrimp of the land. Which is priceless because people call shrimp the cockroaches of the seas).
-As soon as Kordax said his darkest night had ended, I knew what was going on.
Blackest Night!!!!!
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Yes, the core story was vastly different but this was the their nod to it.
-People living under the sea should stoke the imagination so I'm happy they finally made the civilization under the sea so lively instead of us just watching Atlantean council meetings. Give us the nightlife!
THE BAD
-I don't think we got enough time with Black Manta.
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It honestly felt like Randall Park's Stephen Shin had more screen-time.
Stephen who is obviously Jimmy Woo's identical twin cousin.
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I think the film should have gone deeper into David Kane's slip into madness due to the trident with more of his "Gollum" scenes where we can see how Kordax is spurring him on.
But at least they gave Black Manta a great death. I was just waiting for Arthur to grab him and Black Manta still fall to his death. But it's so fitting that David wouldn't dare let the man who killed his father (a man who doesn't even feel bad about it) save him. True standing on business! Or falling... Falling on business.
-The water effects are horrible. I think it likely looks better in 3D but in standard - hazy, uncanny valley.
THE REST
-Pilou Asbaek plays Kordax and I find it fitting that my wretched sh!tty despot uncle of the Iron Islands plays a power hungry Atlantean.
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-I was the only person to laugh at the Topo line spoken by Atlanna (Nicole Kidman).
Return of the King.
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And Storm!
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-Though in the SnyderCut we get Martian Manhunter, thus fulfilling the motto of Unite the Seven
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in this film we get another united seven - the seven kingdoms of Atlantis which includes the titular lost kingdom.
-Felt like James Wan did a fair bit of nods. We get Orn living above ground at an outdoor restaurant a'la Bruce's retired life in THE DARK KNIGHT RISES. Arthur and Orn's team-up is like Thor and Loki's in THOR: RAGNAROK. Arthur even calls Orn Loki before making a Harry Potter reference.
There's a shot of Black Manta sat in the navigation chair in his Black Manta gear casting the same type of demeanor as T'Challa in BLACK PANTHER. The ending with Arthur deciding to tell the world about Atlantis is straight cribbed from BLACK PANTHER and IRON MAN. Is this the cinematic version of someone losing a match and shaking the hand of their opponent?
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hollowwish · 1 year ago
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Now I come to talk fanfic!! So i had an idea for a empires season 1 fic! its gempulse and love triangle flower fwhimmy but also a bit arranged marriage because your idea gave me ideas (in a different direction tho) man view are probably fwhip and gem, maybe some chapters in the other views as well. Basically Gem is in love with impulse who is a member of the dwarfen kingdom located under and between rivendell and the crystal cliffs. (I imagine this kingdom isnt really royalty based and more like a working democracy with impulse as a member of the leaders. Other leaders are maybe other hermits or skizz. Anyways Story is that Rivendell and Crystal cliffs want scott and gem to marry because of their magic powers in hope that an unity of both could save the end (or similar) Problem is, Gem is in love with impulse and scott is in love with jimmy. both of them dont want to marry each other and try to find a way around it Meanwhile she is just telling her pain to her brother who is in love with scott and would love to take her place but due to his lack of magic and inability to, well, carry an offspring he is not considered for it. He will try to help gem tho, because he is trade partner with impulse for stuff and he is like helping gem wooing impulse, who is also in love with gem but both of them dont know about the mutual feelings. then theres Jimmy who is in love with fwhip and wants to be able to woo him, but their kingdoms are enemies and the twins father would never ever let them at each other. So he tries to get to fwhip over scott, and scott is so much in love he helps jimmy but it hurts him. fwhip agrees to meet up with jimmy because he loves scott so much. its a mess no one can properly talk; only gem and fwhip have good communication. total love drama.
Hehe im glad my ideas inspired you. I sure do love an arranged marriage!!!
The love triangle is such a mess oh my god. Then trying to pair each other up must hurt so much. I can just imagine all the miscommunication and mixed singals between them. Meanwhile i imagine gem and impulse are just being the cutest <3
I love fwhip being the best brother ever. If he can't be happy he can help his sister be happy! I can also imagine skizz and the other hermits all trying to be impulses wingman whwffw
I love how they're all involved in the political stuff someway and then jimmy seems to just. Be there lmaoo. He came here fwhip and he can't even have that
This sounds like such a fun idea and I'm so excited to see where it goes <33
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thepinkwriterr · 2 years ago
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Capricorn Season Chapter Twenty-Two 
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Sorry for the little lapse in posting. I’ve been busy with school and life. But now I have a few chapters to post. Enjoy 
Table of Contents
Word Count: 6k
It was on the days they woke up together that Robert sang the best. When a day began with staring lovingly into the expanses of her blue eyes, he felt like God was on his side. With her he shined.
"Goodmorning," she said in a low voice. It was too early for loud moves or sudden words. Sun poured in through every open airplane window, ensuring to catch their tired eyes.
And her beauty was an understatement. She was a flowery treasure chest, more gold than you could ever imagine being found inside. He admired who he was when she was around.
"Goodmorning," he returned with a wispy smile, turning uncomfortably in his tiny seat.
- They were a mass of blonde curls under the blinding San Diego sun. They looked like twins-- two sides of the same coin. Perhaps their similarities were what drew them into one another.
They walked together with locked hands. They passed through throngs of people with the group, taking in the sights of the stuffy airport.
Gwen looked at the couple and tapped Jimmy on the shoulder to draw his attention. "Look at them, they're so smitten." He rolled his eyes at this, intent on getting through the airport.
"You should enjoy the sun! You won't get much of it when we return to England." Her words were a taunt. He didn't want to enjoy the sun, he wanted to go to bed.
He felt like a raisin in the sun. He was ground under the wheels of the Earth, becoming a cloud of pulpy dust by the oppressive heat. He was an English boy, pale and fragile to temperature changes.
"Yeah, Jimmy, enjoy the sun!" Bonzo mocked her, putting on a terrible valley girl accent.
"There isn't any sun to enjoy. We're inside," he grumbled.   They were finally through airport check-in and were headed to their cars. Bonzo, Robert, and Lorelei would be in one, Jonesy, Gwen, and Jimmy in another. Gwen didn't want to be separated from her new best friend but was content to dote on Jimmy in the meantime.
"After you, Lord and Lady." Jonesy held the door open and put on a regal tone.
"Thank, my good sir." She smiled as she slid into the car.
When the door shut the black car lurched forward and began a 45-minute drive to the hotel. This was the reality of touring, not a glamorous display of royalty, but rather, a series of menial tasks and tiring travel. "How are you enjoying the sights, my love?" Robert asked.
"Oh, they're great! I love San Diego." They were gazing into one another's eyes, lost in the vast seascapes of correlating blue.
"We've only been here an hour. And most of that time was spent in the airport." Bonzo's voice was a harsh reality, an end to their gushy romance.
"We've been doing our own sightseeing." Robert was the ever-charming romantic, always saving an awkward moment. He was graceful and practiced in wooing women, knowing exactly what to say to make a girl swoon. This is exactly what Lorelei did. Her face flushed pink, and she smiled wide. "That's my favorite one." He leaned in to kiss her.
"Oh, Jesus fucking Christ," Bonzo groaned, "I'm not listening to this for 45 minutes. I'll jump out the fucking car into the street." The three were doing sightseeing of their own in the other car. They leaned down, peering out of the windows to catch a glimpse of the water below.
"San Diego is California's beach city. They also have the largest number of small farms in America." Jonesy read from a laminate brochure he found in the airport lobby. It was titled San Diego: The Sights You Will Sea." This corny joke caught his attention, and he pulled it off the shelf to save him from death via boredom.
"Still not as nice as San Francisco. That's my favorite place in this whole state," Gwen spoke. Memories of her childhood and adolescence flooded her mind. Scenes of '50s America were fresh and lovely, the world never looked so innocent and beautiful.
"Did you grow up there?" Jonesy asked.
"Oh, yeah, it was really nice. I've never been to San Diego, though." "So how can you know if San Francisco is better?" He asked.
"Because it's the best city in the world. Nothing could top it." She wore her title of Californian with pride.
"You've clearly never had a fresh croissant in Paris," Jimmy said with a coy smile on his face.
"Okay, maybe it's not the best city in the world, but definitely in America."
Jonesy frowned, "I hated San Fransico. Too many people."
"I agree," Jimmy chimed in, "too many homeless people."
Gwen rolled her eyes.
-
"I just love the sun here. It warms me and brings out the color in my eyes." Lorelei was smiling with a dreamy look in her eyes. Every inch of her was filled with bliss.
Their hands had found each other and rested together on the seat of the car. Bonzo refrained from groaning at the sight of their love. He was getting sick of everyone. The next tour would be without all the romance, he hoped.
"How is Jason, Bonz?" Robert changed the subject to keep the mood light.
"He's doing wonderfully! I'm already teaching him how to play. He has a little kit and everything. It really fills my heart with joy to see him banging away."
His voice was lighter than she'd had ever heard. His face was flushed with a glow of happiness, filled with total glee.
"You have a child?" She asked.
"Yeah, his name is Jason. He's four. He's the love of my life." "That's so sweet. You must've been young when you had him. You don't look old enough to have a child." "I had him when I was 18. It kills me to be away from him." He was still beaming at the thought of his family, despite the sadness that he felt. It wasn't easy for any of them to leave their families.
It was easier for Jimmy, who was more interested in furthering his career than settling down. Of course, it wasn't on purpose that any of them had children so young. But Jimmy was careful. He had a plan in life and knew having a child was not in that plan. Not for the time being, at least. "That warms my heart. Robert, do you have any children?" She asked. This conversation was now going sour, and he had to do something to change the subject. Reminiscing and thinking of family were something they all did, but not to the women they brought on tour.
"Yeah, Robert, do you have any children?" Bonzo was smiling at him. It may have seemed innocent on the surface, but Robert knew what his true intention was. It wasn't an extension of glee for his well-being, it was a challenge. He was an ape bearing his teeth, ready for the slaughter. Robert was a spiritual man, he believed in a plethora of God's. He never knew if he was in their good graces or not, not attending mass or any kind of church. He didn't even pray. But on this day, he knew somebody or something was looking out for him. Before the silence got too thick, filling with awkward hesitance, the car stopped abruptly. It slammed them against the seats, their heads banging into the vinyl. He'd never been so happy to have a headache. "Jesus, what was that?" Bonzo peered out the window.
"Must be traffic." Robert shrugged, turning back to Lorelei. She was worried, wearing an expression of deep concern. He came to her rescue and calmed her nerves. He was a knight, clad in heavy chainmail and brandished a shield. He stroked her cheek and her hair, whispering sweet nothings in her ear while Bonzo investigated. He got out of the car and could now see that the traffic was heavy, the highway at a dead stop. He went back to the door and looked into the window before getting in. Robert and Lorelei were attached at the mouth, engaging in a makeup session.
How disgusting, he thought.
With a groan, he flung open the other car door and pushed Jonesy over so he could scoot in. "Those two are playing tonsil tennis. I couldn't take it, so I'm crawling in with you." He said as he sat next to his friend. "Welcome to the party!" Gwen handed him a neatly wrapped joint that was already lit. Small streams of smoke billowed from the end and he blew a breath out the window.
"Perhaps being stuck in traffic was not the best place to do this," Jimmy remarked.
"Oh c'mon, don't be such a square. Have you taken a hit from this yet?" "No, he hasn't!" Gwen said.
"Here, take this." Bonzo held it up to his mouth. Jimmy retracted his head, throwing it back into the vinyl headrest of the seat.
"No, I don't want it." His lips were pursed, and he was shaking his head in an attempt to get the drummer off of him.
"I'm not stopping until you take a hit!" He cried. Jonesy and Gwen were laughing at the scene, watching Jimmy be tortured with the threat of a good time.
"You may not realize this because he's jovial now that you're around, but he's really a serious guy. There's not much funny business with him. If there's work to be done, he doesn't mess around." Jonesy leaned into her and spoke directly into the shell of her ear. The two men continued to fight.
It escalated into Jimmy screaming. "I don't want it!" It was the loudest Gwen had ever heard him be.
"Yes, you do!" Bonzo screamed back.
"No!" "Yes!"
Jimmy grabbed a fistful of Bonzo hair and pushed him back, causing the joint to fall onto the floor of the car. "Oh, shit!" Jonesy hurried to pick it up before it burned a hole in the carpet.
"What the fuck is going on back there?" Peter rolled the divider down to speak to the group. "Bonzo, what the hell are you doing in here?" When no one answered he barked again, asking what was going on. They all scrambled to answer, speaking at once. "Jesus Christ, stop your bloody yammering. I don't want to hear any more yelling!" He was gruff as usual.
"Or he'll turn this goddamn car around!" Gwen jested, causing them all to laugh. Even Peter was chortling, cutting the sound off with the rolling of the divider.
"Seriously, man, take a hit," Bonzo spoke once more when their laughing stopped.
"You are impossible," Jimmy rolled his eyes but took the joint from his fingers. It was a nub now, barely able to pass from one hand to the other.
"Let me get that before you put it out," Gwen spoke, awaiting the white gift. "Can you hold it for me? I don't want to burn my fingers." She spoke in a small voice.
"Of course." He smiled so sweetly it melted her heart, just as she did his. Jonesy thought it was sweet watching them like this. For some odd reason, seeing Jimmy in love was endearing. Perhaps his best features shone when in the presence of love, or she just brought out the best in him. He held the joint in place while she inhaled, his hand resting on the cleft in her chin. This was one of his favorite features of her face. He enjoyed pressing his lips to the fissure or placing the side of his index finger in the slit.
"Thank you, Princess Pagey." She spoke the vile words so sweetly. His face broke into a light blush of pink as he looked at his friends, mortified.
Bonzo's belly danced with a deep laugh. The corners of his mouth were turned up in a display of complete elation, his skin wrinkling and cracking. His laugh was thunderous and great. It bounced off the walls of the car.
"Princess Pagey! Oh, man, that's a good one!" Bonzo wiped a genuine tear from the corner of his eye.
"Does anyone want this before I put it out?" She asked, holding the roach up.
"Yeah, let me get another one." She passed it to Jonesy who took one last large puff and then handed it to Bonzo. He took a hit and then tossed it out the window.
"That's littering, Mr. Bonham," John spoke in an exaggerated posh accent, sounding almost like Jimmy.
"Oh, my mistake, Mr. Jones. I wouldn't want to desecrate this beautiful city."
"It's the city of beaches, I'll have you know." He continued with the accent.
"It's about to be the city of roaches if we keep this up!" Bonzo's voice raised in volume once more, filling the car with his laughter. He was a loud man, meant to be seen and heard. Aside from the obvious, his almost violent drumming, he was a screamer. He chose to speak loudly with a passion, whether or not he was angry. The falling out between Bonzo and Gwen had been slightly resolved. They resigned to being friendly once more. It was understood that they had different ideologies and should keep them out of the conversation. With three weeks left of the tour, there was no point in pissing your pants over something so meaningless, that being a disagreement or hurt feelings. There wasn't room for either of those things on tour. It was music and fun, and if neither of those was happening, you were asleep. "I've got to get back to my car. I don't want the love birds to get lonely." In an instant he was gone, leaving the three once again. When he reached the car Lorelei and Robert were no longer kissing. He thanked the heavens and got in.
"The traitor returns." "I had to leave. You guys were eating each other. I wasn't going to subject myself to that. It's a pain worse than death!" They didn't laugh at his joke.
"Traffic is letting up. Fasten your belts." Richard spoke above their chattering.
The rest of the ride was smooth. Traffic was lighter, thankfully. Peter could feel the steam coming from his ears as his foot danced on the gas pedal. As he drove, he went over the list of things he needed to do. Book flights for the next three shows, return the rented car before the flight in two days and call Atlantic. He wandered around his responsibilities for the remainder of the ride.
-
They'd finally arrived. The hotel was an oasis.
"Oh, God, my back hurts!" Bonzo was out of the car and yelling already. Robert and Lorelei were close behind, hands interlocked. Jimmy and Gwen were less showy in their relationship, content to walk next to each other.
"Mine too. I'm glad I can lay down for a little bit before the show." Said Jimmy.
"I can rub it for you if you'd like." They were speaking low as they walked into the hotel. This was a small display of love that only the two could witness. Their entourage trailed behind them, meandering on the pavement.
When they were finally safe in their hotel room they settled into the fresh sheets. "It's not even my own bed, but I don't care. I am just happy to be out of that car and not in a plane."
He agreed with her and then turned to face her. His eyes fell on her and trailed along the gentle curve of her spine. He placed his hands on her delicate skin and rubbed small circles. She was so beautiful, much more so than she ever imagined, he thought. She had entranced him from the moment he gained knowledge of her. That feeling hadn't left him, not for a second since he'd known her.
She looked at him now, turning to see the familiar expression on his face. He was deep in thought. His brows pressed together, creating a crease like the gutter of a book. He was vast and complex as words on a page, much like the wrinkle in his brow. She wondered what he was thinking. He was a mystery, one begging to be solved. She wanted to wiggle her way into his brain and absorb all the knowledge, be a part of the inner workings of his mind. She didn't have to speculate for much longer. He spoke once more.
"You know, it's funny, I feel like the more I get to know you, the less I learn." His soft voice was large in the hotel room, filling the space with his warm lilt. She was silent, pleading with her eyes for him to continue. "I'm opening myself up to you, trying my best to take my shoes off and open my doors. I don't feel that from you."
"I know, I'm sorry. I'm so scared to let my walls down, scared to let you in fully. I've been burned, and I don't want that again. So I try to lock myself up, but you always wriggle your way back in. It's like I can't help but let myself soften when I'm with you."
"So start telling me things."
"Like what? What do you want to know about me?" She almost wanted to giggle. They'd known each other for what felt like forever at this point. But he was right, he didn't know much about her. She kept it all under lock and key. It was inaccessible to even herself at times.
"Everything. I want you to tell me everything."
"Well, that's a pretty broad topic."
"Getting you to talk is like pulling bloody teeth," He broke his concentration with an airy laugh, "Start with your love life. That's not hard, right?"
"I'm afraid."
He groaned. "Why? What could you have to be afraid of?"
"I'm afraid you'll judge me. I don't have the most normal past."
"What could I possibly judge you about?"
"Okay, I'm just gonna be honest," she sighed hesitantly, "I've dated women in the past."
"Well, there's nothing wrong with that. As a matter of fact, I've been with men before. So I guess that's something we're both being honest about."
"You're bisexual?"
"I guess you could say that." They sat together for a moment, their faces burning. It wasn't common to meet someone who was so open about it. But they found solace in each other's omission. Jimmy broke their silence, his voice now slightly shaken, "You're avoiding the question. Tell me about your love life. What's your past like?"
"I've told you about Dominic."
"No, you've mentioned him, and then I was verbally accosted by him in the most polite of manners. I haven't a clue what happened."
After a hefty sigh, she gave in. In a painful recalling, she told the story of a tumultuous young couple. Two people who weren't meant for each other falling as if they were fated, lovers. Tears brimmed in her eyes, scalding her ducts as they threatened to take presence. The dull aching in her chest began to drum, mimicking the pattern she thought she had quieted years ago. But it was still present as if it had never stopped. The galloping beat of torment ravaged her, sending a wave of agony down her spine.
Her mind wandered over the last moments she shared with Dom. "Okay, I guess I should start from the beginning. We had been dating for almost two years and things had started to fall apart. He didn't seem to care anymore. I don't know if he was firm in the idea that he had me or if he didn't want to be with me. But I was still in it. I wanted him more than anything, I was doing everything I could think of to make him love me and stay with me. But it didn't seem to be working, and I could feel it. I didn't want to admit it, but it was true. I had an art gallery coming up. It was the first time my work was going to be shown in a real gallery and I was so excited. It was part of a larger exhibit, but I had a few pieces being shown. He was going on a trip with his friends to explore Africa. He was really into Pan-Africanism and wanted to see all of the countries that had recently won their independence. I was supportive, I understood why he wanted to go. I even wished I could go, but I would've never asked. It was a month-long trip where he and four other friends went to Niger, Chad, Cameroon, and Egypt. He was going to get back the day before my event but promised he would go. The night of the show began, and I was so excited. I wore a pretty dress, did my hair and makeup, and bought some nice new shoes. And he didn't show up. I spent the entire gallery waiting for him and by the time it was over I realized he wasn't coming."
"Oh, hey, Gwen." Dominic lay in bed, a blanket pulled up to meet his chin.
"Um, hey. Did you forget something?" Anger painted her features.
"What?" He asked.
"You are unbelievable!" She cracked, anger spilling out all over the room like gushing water from splintered vases. She was yelling, something she didn't do often. "You missed my gallery!"
He was unphased, a dazed look on his dark features. "You don't have anything to say for yourself?" She asked.
"I was jetlagged. I totally forgot about your gallery, sorry."
"Are you really sorry or are you just saying that? Because you don't seem sorry at all." "I mean, I am, but there's nothing I can do about it now." "You could've just been there! I don't know why it's so hard for you to care. I care so much about everything you have going on. Even your stupid trip!" "My trip wasn't stupid. It was the most important four weeks of my life!" "I don't care! Oh my God, I don't care. Can you just shut up about yourself for five seconds?" "If that's how you're going to be, then you need to leave." "Fine. But if you let me leave then I'm done. I'm not coming back." "You're gonna end a two-year relationship over an art gallery?" "It's not just about the gallery. It's about everything. It's about the fact that you're not even here. Even when you're with me I don't have you. You know I was knocking for twenty minutes? I had to get someone else to let me in the building. You're just in your own little world that I'm not a part of. It's like I have to beg you to love me, to even see me." She was exploding now, a mess of tears and anger falling from her eyes and draining down her alabaster face.
"That's not true. We just went out last week." He rebutted. Fireworks of impossible anger erupted behind her eyes.
"That was a going-away party for one of your friends, that wasn't a date! I was only there so you didn't go alone. I am your convenience, your routine, I'm not your girlfriend." "If that's you feel, then you should leave."
A new low had begun, a possibility she hadn't thought of. He would want to end things. He didn't want to put the work in to even accept responsibility. It was a dead end.
"You're not even going to fight for this? You're just going to throw in the towel?" He shrugged, looking into her wild eyes. They were glistening with the threat of tears, scalding, and fat. "Fine."
Her heels thudded against the floor and stomped out of his apartment. The door slammed shut with a heavy thud. When she was alone the tears escaped. They pushed onto her cheeks, streaming down her soft skin. It was a scene of youthful pain, the first cut. A panicked breath caught in her throat, a weight on her chest. She was hyperventilating now, the memories of abandonment flooding her mind. Now she was alone, shut out in front of his sealed door. Just like that, it was all over. There was no constellation prize or closing statement, just pain. What stung the most was that she didn't have items to collect from his apartment. There was no trace of her in his life. But he coated every inch of her small apartment. The paint from his palette was the tint that covered her eyes, rose-colored glasses of his love. She saw everything with his hues, a strip of his preferred shade in every wall of her brain.
Jimmy looked at her, seeing the pain echoing on her face. It was still haunting her. The ghosts of her past lived inside the cavernous heart that occupied her chest. "I'm sorry, love, that sounds awful. I understand why seeing him again made you so upset. He sounds like a wanker."
His slang made her giggle, a strained laugh filled with a bittersweet pain. "It's no matter now. It's all over, been many years. I suppose I'm a fool for even stressing over it." She dismissed her feelings, pushing tears off the sides of her face.
"No, no, you're not. Your first love isn't something that ever goes away. The pain stays forever, in some capacity." His hand rested atop hers, playing with the flesh that coated her frame.
"You know what the worst part of all of this was?" "What?" "I bought him that stupid ticket for his trip." This made him laugh and she joined in, a sorrowful sound of wheezing. He looked at her again, seeing the pain melting slightly. It was like glittering snow, shrinking under the loving touch of the sun. "At least I have you now. Someone who I feel really cares for me. Even if it took a while for that to happen." "Nonsense. I've always cared for you." "No, the trusting." She said. "You didn't trust me?" "Not totally, not for months." When his face stood still, twisted in pain, she elaborated. "You must understand, you are a Rockstar who asked me out and basically moved me in on the first date. I thought for the first few months that this was a fleeting fling." She spoke nervously, playing with the ring enveloping his index finger.
"I guess I can understand that. I was afraid for a long time to really speak to you about how I felt. I thought you wouldn't reciprocate. I was afraid of losing you. But I see now that it was in vain. We are deeply entranced with one another; I can see it in your eyes. You feel the same way I do, and we share a deep connection." He danced around the words he truly wanted to speak. He was lying, telling a half-truth.
He was still afraid, honestly, too scared to jump off the ledge. When he'd brought up his feelings of love in the past, it wasn't always met with enthusiasm. He'd also used promises of his love to get what he wanted, something he was trying to avoid now.
"Yeah, you're right. I'm not scared to be honest with you anymore. I see that you welcome it with open arms, you embrace me, no matter what I have to say."
Love made liars of everyone, specifically the two lying together now. She was terrified of him, clinging desperately to the walls that separated her heart from his harsh mouth. He could say the words that would tear her down at any point, could wave her off and tell her it meant nothing in a matter of seconds. It is a heavy hand that can wipe away the hard-wrought foundation away in seconds. She was blind to his delicate and light fingers, the way the lithe mechanisms worked away at her heartstrings in the gentlest of manners. He wasn't the man to crush her, he wouldn't dream of it. They were two lovers speaking endlessly of their feelings, one scared to be brazen, and one too blind to see the capacity at which the other would go to avoid true intimacy.
Now they lay down for bed. The sun had set, and the moon was showing, paintings murals on the walls of the hotel room. The scene that lies in their room was an image of love. The couple lay in bed, creating an air of trust as they talked. Their usual topic of conversation was thrown, and she delved into her feelings.
"I still don't really know what I want to do. Each day is an exploration of a dark path for me. But one thing I know for certain is that I was supposed to meet you. We were fated. That day I wasn't even supposed to be there. Allison was going to be your photographer, but she called in sick. And the moment I met you I saw everything. I saw our future, our love. I'm so happy every day that I have you." Her words were low in the dim of the night, being absorbed by his skin due to their proximity. Their lips twisted into matching smiles, mirroring their contentedness for one another. It was there, in a hotel room in San Diego, that something changed. Their hearts had opened, totally vulnerable with clear skin that exposed the delicate and vital workings of their minds. They talked in length about childhood, aspirations, traumas, and other life-altering occurrences. The two reached a new understanding, delving deep into their psychologies and producing a profound and unknown intimacy. "I feel like this is what I've been waiting for. I've spent my whole life in bated breath, searching for something. I hadn't known quite what it was until I found you. You are a key that's opened all my doors, pushed all my windows open. You're a smoke in my lungs, one that is wholly cleansing and alluring." He spoke words of affirmation now, toying with the ends of her hair. His eyes glistened with intense lust, one not intended for matters of the flesh. His fixation was on her figure, the gentle curve of her waist connecting with her hip, a smooth and righteous sight. This did not mean he was longing to consume her body. The desperate flicker in his eyes, set on her skin, was an effect of his need for closeness. He wanted to feel her skin under the calloused pads of his fingertips, to be enraptured in the scent of her. An orgasm was the least of his concerns at this moment. He was content to touch her. She too wanted desperately to hold him. A spell of love was put over them, causing her to pull him in close. He was first facing her, lips dangerously close, but she encouraged him to turn over. Finally, he pressed himself against her, their bodies in perfect contour as they molded together. The expanse of his spine dug into her commodious chest as he took note of the feeling of her. The swell of her chest was soft and fleshy like sweet, summer fruit. His longing to touch her vanished when he felt her deft fingertips in his hair, massaging his scalp. His eyes rolled in his head at her calming touch. He was almost asleep in an instant. As she explored every inch of his crown his frame grew smaller in her arms. He was shrinking under her touch, morphing into the child he described. She imagined him sitting at the breakfast table, munching away at toast and guzzling tea, just as he had delineated earlier. A maternal instinct grew in her. She was now watching over the man she lied with, protecting him from the fallacies that plagued his mind, ones that had been developed over a lifetime of undue criticism. Her mind raced over the picture he had painted of a demure boy, latched to his mother's side, one who closed his eyes and shook his head at any chaos or change. He told her of his propensity to hide. He found a spot everywhere he went to tuck himself into, shielding his sensitive heart and prying eyes. She imagined now that she was holding that boy, bringing him impossibly close to the beating spot in her chest. His eyes were still shut, having fluttered closed the moment he felt the heat of her body against him. A gentle hum built in the back of his throat when her hands found his neck, massaging away at the tense muscles. He was melting completely under her touch. His lips cracked open, a sigh escaping. This caused a laugh to ripple from her, disrupting her attack on his worries. He could feel them burning off now, steaming as they flew from him. When her tired hands stilled, he turned over, gaze resting on her reposeful face. Her eyes were still ragged and red, stained with tears. The beauty that danced on her features was not understated, still present even in the stale sadness. Traces of the tantrum existed but threatened her splendor not. A quiet production began, a duet that neither rehearsed. He reversed their roles, now cradling her tired frame in his arms. His hands explored her body, drawing patterns over the fabric of her clothing. It was soft, a gentle plea for closeness. Tears pricked in her eyes, foreboding and terrifying her as they threatened to release. A sniffle built in her, echoing through the quiet room. This caught his attention, causing him to pull her impossibly close. He petted her hair and kissed each inch of her that he could reach. The tears scalded her face, cascading in a stream of sadistic madness. His thumbs wiped these tears, washing her pain and drinking as it drained from her pores. She felt peaceful in his grasp. He held a paternal grip on her, slowing rocking as she wept. His patience was fatherly, soft, and affirming in the way only belonging to a man totally in love. In this protective hold, relaxation befell her, rest finally finding her. His hands tangled in her hair, even long after she fell into a sleep. He stayed up for half the night, leaning over her and listening to the steady composition of her breathing. A feeling fell over him, shaking him. Never before had he felt so completely at home in a person, naked and eased under her gaze. He was drowning in love, lungs wetted by her treacly tongue.
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