#stream take my hand that’s such a fitting song for valentines | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

megalommi · 1 year

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This is exceedingly indulgent, a song fic!

I wanted to write Baggs using his powers with his voice in another way (also because I don't write him using his powers enough, oddly)

The specific cover this is inspired by is the NSP cover of Don't Fear the Reaper, but I pitched and slowed down while i was writing this, fits the more dark and seductive mood better.

(Can't share it here for obvious DMCA issues that would cause, but would highly recommend seeking that out).

This is non canon.

Each snow packed step takes so much effort, your legs are heavy and you are so tired.

The path was far behind you, having taken off in sheer terror into the thick woods.

What you had seen at a gate in the middle of the road, seeming to await your arrival, a skeletal face with a knowing grin, like the visage of death.

But now, you were hopelessly lost, tired and numb from the cold.

The still, frosty forest seems to swallow any sound, so you startle when under the crunch of your footfalls and your laboured breath, something else pulls your attention.

It drifts so softly through the trees, hard to pinpoint from where, a gentle humming of a tune you think you recognise from somewhere.

It's deep and warm like hot chocolate, oh so pleasant to the ears. You can't help but bask in it a little longer, you think you actually start to feel warmer.

Something tells you that's not a good sign, you need to get out of this cold.

You continue your trek again, the humming is closer now. You note a burgeoning urge to find the source, and you can't help scanning your surroundings for signs of the owner.

All our times have come

Here but now they're gone

The humming blends into a sweet serenade, the words echoing, drifting sweetly into your ears.

Is someone out there? Their words are gentle, a cadence that comforts you instantly. Something tells you this stranger will help you.

Seasons don't fear the reaper

Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain

The buzz of anxiety tensing your body starts to settle, your gasps of exertion evening out and slowing down. The numbness in your limbs are replaced by pleasant tingles.

The snow is no bother to you now, it's effortless to follow that wonderful voice.

We can be like they are

Your mind supplies, a soft trilling in the base of your skull that doesn't sound like your inner voice at all.

Come on, baby

Closer now, peering out from the darkness, a pulsing, pretty magenta glow.

don't fear the reaper

The sweet, tempting voice in your mind urged, chanting the mantra over and over, deep in your mind.

Baby, take my hand

We'll be able to fly

You're reaching out before you can even think to. You feel floaty and nice, you want this stranger to take you away.

Baby, I'm your man

He steps into view, a skeletal face with a knowing grin.

Your heart drops and you still, panic cutting through the haze that had fallen over your mind.

But he serenades you still, a pretty melody like a soothing lullaby, his arms open and inviting.

And like fingers stroking through your hair, tension massaged from your shoulders, your body relaxes.

Your thoughts and fear fall away again, chased by wonderful fuzzy niceness that sends your reeling from the whiplash.

You sway, dizzy with the heady feelings flowing through you, your only anchor is the heated gaze of white and magenta, brightly glowing in their sockets.

You stumble into his arms, that encircle you like a warm blanket, chasing away the cold.

The world falls away into darkness with the sensation of falling, and you squeak in terror, only for that emotion, too, to be scattered and forgotten.

A golden, regal hall bathed in streams of light pouring in from high arched stain glass windows.

You are steadied on solid ground once again, and it's so warm that your skin prickles with the sudden shift in atmosphere.

Valentine is done

The song echoes through the halls, it's just for you to hear.

Here but now they're gone

You think you catch a ripple in his expression, but you're turned around, led to a window.

And you hardly believe what you're seeing.

Romeo and Juliet

Are together in eternity

A kingdom that stretches to the cavern walls. Fields of lava surrounding so many homes. A beautiful grove flowing with water. And a little isolated town caked in snow.

And twinkling above it all, pretty, false stars embedded in the ceiling of the cavern, shining down on so many trapped and desperate people.

40, 000 men and women everyday

like Romeo and Juliet

That tempting voice at the base of your skull whispers to you, and you understand.

40, 000 men and women everyday

So many people to save.

redefine happiness

It's for the best.

Another 40, 000 coming everyday

we can be like they are

Gloved hands smooth up and down your arms.

Come on, baby

You're not afraid.

Baby, take my hand

You accept his outstretched hand. You're lead away, his hands cupping your own.

We'll be able to fly

A hand at your back, and your hand held out in his, your world suddenly spins as you're led in a waltz,

dancing to the thrumming pulse that starts in your chest and radiates calm through your whole body.

Baby, I'm your man

You step perfectly in time with him, spun and dipped, expertly lead by his control.

You don't know how to dance, it does not matter.

The entrancing melody drifts through the hall, his cape flows in a graceful arc, his grip is strong in your hand, his gaze warm and smile amused.

It's all so magical, you must be dreaming.

He slows and lowers you in a deep dip, and he's so close, breath intermingling with yours.

He's stopped humming.

You utter a sleepy murmur in question.

His expression darkens, his grin sharpens.

And that magenta eye

pulses

expands

rings of cyan

magenta

cyan

magenta

cyan

magenta

flow over you, through you, into your mind

and you helplessly drop down

down

sickly green ambient lights that cast long shadows

Dark, clinical halls

The smell like a hospital, sharp and clean

down

You pass darkened hallways, and not even the fog could dampen the chill down your spine.

You're moving?

You're on a padded table. You can't move.

You're strapped down.

You feel like you should be more afraid. But you are drifting under waves of bliss that smother your thoughts and emotions as quickly as they build.

Finally you've seemingly arrived at your destination.

An operating room, filled with complex looking machines and devices, some you recognise as heart monitors, drip bags.

Some are completely alien, nothing like anything you'd find in a human hospital.

Before you can even sluggishly blink, you're hooked up to all manner of devices, tested, poked and prodded, in a process that's typical of a hospital check up.

You are overwhelmed by the rush of activity, and you lay your head back.

There's an enormous structure above you, that hangs down from the ceiling.

A machine, but shaped like the skull of some animal you couldn't hope to identify.

But with terrifying teeth like a predator.

Pointed right at you.

You startle as you feel a skeletal hand on your cheek, pulling your focus back

to him.

He trains his features into one of sympathy, but you can see the sharp pull of his grin, the excitement in his eyes.

Love of two is one

But you can't resist.

Here but now they're gone

It almost seems taunting, but you're helpless as you sink into the false, saccharine sweetness.

Came the last night of sadness

He strokes your cheek in something meant to be comforting. You are comforted beyond measure, warm and tingly once more.

And it was clear she couldn't go on

It was true, somehow

Then the door was open and the wind appeared

The machine above stirred awake

The candles blew and then disappeared

Lights blinking and flashing, the engine a deep, monstrous rumble, as if it were alive, as if it were hungry.

The curtains flew and then he appeared

He filled your vision once more, turning your gaze, twitching with your terror bubbling up to the surface.

Saying don't be afraid

Your vision shrunk down to just the two of you, alone in this moment, he was here for you.

Come on, baby

He reached out to hover his ungloved, skeletal hand just above your chest.

and she had no fear

You sunk into bliss.

And she ran to him

A glow burst from your chest, and he crooked his finger in a beckoning motion.

then they started to fly

Your soul hovered pliantly in his gentle hold.

They looked backward and said goodbye

Distantly, you felt the machine lowered closer and closer to your chest.

To your soul.

she had become like they are

Hadn't you seen vials full of other souls down here?

She had taken his hand

His visage had broken into a crazed triumph, too perfect teeth wide and sharp.

she had become like they are

It was for the best.

Come on, baby

Cyan

Magenta

don't fear the reaper

#dr baggs #megalosomnia #non canon #writing #fanfic #reader #cw hypnosis

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mmyashas · 1 year

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ok my own personal list of songs i relate to cubitos because i dont feel like making individual playlists but also i must share them to the world

under read more ^_^/

nothing's new by rio romeo for roier cubito but specifically after he found out qcellbit killed abueloier

its been so long by the living tombstone for qjaiden about ..bobyb.y.... my boy......

serenata existencialista by o grilo for qspiderbit but mainly when qcell first started infiltrating the federation

huesped en casa propia by PXNDX for qmissa after he returned to qphils house w chayanne and tallulah asleep

el cristal by mon laferte for qmariana about flippa i honestly think it fits real well

goodnight dad i love you by wishing for qroier when he was in the pool for a week

chicken noodle by SMALL CRUSH for the atardecer family in their peak (i miss them so much)

lo que construimos by natalia lafourcade for all the parents w dead eggs in general

familiar face by lutalo for the island weirdness in general. Trust me on this one ive even imagined a pmvfor it. trust.

two birds by regina spektor for bobby and richas

i could have sworn you were dead by dandelion hands for qquackity and tilin

she's playing piano by toby fox for qbaghera . I can see the fucking visio nn

valentine's day by vivivivivi for 4halo. Ok this one doesnt even make sense but it DOES to me. in my own way. to be fair thats also because im not really into them but

every day by bo en for qforever when he was under the cucurucho pills Like mainly the first stream when he started taking them

#okctoo many songs #i may add onto tyis another time #But for now....enjoy my cool awesome music taste. if u want :3c #qsmp

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colorseeingchick · 3 years

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Valentine’s Affections (Kageyama, Oikawa, Kuroo)

I adore Valentine’s day! Love is in the air and chocolate is in my stomach. But for you and these boys? Well... it’s a lil more complicated than that.

A/N: We are going to completely ignore the fact that valentine’s day was a full 3 months ago. Love is always in the air on this blog !

Warnings: Light swearing? Maybe? Lotsa fluffy stuff beware cavities.

Kageyama Tobio

Kageyama stares hard at the vending machine in front of him. Now, this was far from a new situation he found himself in- he found himself in front of this very vending machine every single day. But the stakes were much higher this time.

Strawberry, or chocolate? Which would be a better gift?

Early on he decided against chocolates, cuz it felt too obvious. He opted out of a note, cuz he wasn’t articulate enough for that. And for the same reasons a verbal confession was completely out of the picture. So here he was, in front of the vending machine, hoping you would accept his love, or at the very least, the milk carton as a token of it.

He decides on the strawberry milk, because the pink carton color reminded him of hearts, so he was hoping his love message would be real clear!!

As he approaches you in the gym, he feels the nerves stir in his stomach. You’re surrounded by the other first years, excitedly chirping at Tsukki and Yamaguchi while Yachi and Hinata jump up and down around you (for what reasons, who knows) now that clean up is over. The second and third years weren’t that far away either. But he knew he’d have to do this sooner than later.

Kageyama stands pensively behind you at a slight distance, awkwardly shifting weight back and forth between his feet. Finally, he finds the guts to call out to you. “Y/N...san.” Alright, maybe it was more like a mutter. No one had heard him, but Hinata had noticed his presence.

“Kageyama! There you are.”

All eyes shift to him, including yours. The heat rushes to his face as he hides the milk behind his back. “Boke! What do you want!” He only gets redder as his eyes meet yours.

“Y/N-san!” He yells a bit too harshly. But you don’t flinch, you just smile. “Yes, Tobio-kun?” Gah, your voice is sweet as always, and he doesn’t even know what to say.

Stepping towards you, he essentially shoves the milk into your hands before turning around and marching out the door.

You stare at the carton quizzically, while the boys in the gym collectively let out a heavy sigh.

“Was that… supposed to be a confession?” Daichi’s disbelief was evident.

“He does that every day though,” Hinata comments, clueless.

“But today’s Valentine’s day, there’s probably more to it, right?” Ennoshita curious.

“Of course that’s the way that idiot would do it.” Tsukki is snarky as ever.

But you don’t hesitate to run back into the club room, a determined look glued to your face.

“Y/N san! Where are you going?” Hinata calls.

“Let them be, Hinata. They have something to take care of.” Suga has a glint of amusement in his eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kageyama tries to calm down as he aggressively drinks his chocolate milk. But he’s jittery all over when you pop up next him.

“Tobio-kun, did ya really think you could just throw me a box of milk and then split? On Valentine's day? Tsk Tsk.” You smile as you move to stand in front of him. Words are far from his physical capacity at the moment, so he opts to just stare at you instead.

“But by the way,” you pull the carton from behind your back in your left hand, and shake it in front of him, “Accepted.” He feels his heart melt in relief. You understood what he meant. At least he thinks you do. You always understood him somehow, even though he wasn’t great at communicating.

“And also…” Your right hand appears now, a small box of cutely wrapped chocolates snuggly fit into your palm, “this is for you. Please, accept it.”

His eyes go wide in shock. For some reason, this was not what he had expected (though everyone else knew it was coming). His heart now swells with an indescribable feeling that he never wants to stop experiencing.

“And this too... unless you want me to stop...” He doesn’t know how else you could potentially make him fall apart more than he already had- but he got his answer when your hand grabbed onto his collar and tugged him down to your height. You placed a slow and gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Tobio-kun, I like you.” Yeah, his heart wasn’t ready for that one.

Oikawa Tooru

“Thank you, Suki-chan!” “So sweet, Maki-chan!” “These are delicious, Haru-chan!” First period hadn’t even begun and Oikawa had already been swarmed with gifts. But despite the time he spent basking in the affections of his little fans, his eyes were trained on you, watching as you happily handed Iwaizumi a cute little box of chocolates. Oikawa saw how his best friend smiled, and he saw the way you buried your face into Iwa’s chest when he hugs you. He decides to ask you about it at practice.

“Y/N-chan!! You know what day it is today!”

“How could I forget when I see my favorite setter drowning in more chocolates than usual?” He ignores the unidentifiable tone in your voice and presses on.

“I saw you give Iwa-chan some~”

“Yes I did.”

“Sooooo~”

“....so what?”

“Where are mine?”

“...I…”

Iwaizumi steps in, his hand protectively grabbing your shoulder. “What’re you harassing Y/N for, Shittykawa. You got enough chocolates already didn’t you? No need to be greedy.” Your eyes are glued to the floor, but Oikawa just sighs and waves it off.

“Sorry, sorry, Y/N-chan! I just figured your chocolates would be so tasty I was jealous Iwa got some~ but I’ll be waiting for them next time!” If only you knew, I would rather eat a single one of your sweets than all the other sweets combined.

He tries to forget the incident until he hears his doorbell ring at 9 pm. “Tooru! You have a friend who’s come to see you!” He’s surprised to see you waiting at his gate, face flushed, breath ragged, and hair ruffled.

“Oikawa-san!” You say with determination. “Y/N...chan?” He walks towards you, confusion and concern clear on his face.

“Oikawa-san…” the confidence fading as he comes near. You look away from his face as you outstretched your hands, a cute, small pink box with a tiny bow on it in hand.

“I’m sorry I didn’t give you chocolates earlier today….I just....” your hands retreat to your body, box still grasped. You look down at your feet once again, so you can’t see his eyes go wide. “I thought about making you some sweets yesterday but, I always knew you had so many fangirls and I didn’t wanna get in their way, or worse, make you see me as one of them… so I didn’t. I’m sorry. I, I didn’t consider you would feel left out. So I made these for you after school! Will you please accept them!”

You look up at him finally, only to see tears streaming down his face. “Oikawa san? Are you okay? I’m sorry if I said something that-”

“I’m sorry Y/N-san, I don’t know what’s gotten into me. But are they really for me?”

“Mhm!” You hand them over, in anticipation of what he would do next. He opens the box, pops a chocolate into his mouth, and then smiles.

“Just as I expected- it’s perfect.” He steps towards you once again, and wraps his arms around you, tightly. “You’re nothing like the rest of them, yanno. You’re very special to me.”

Kuroo Tetsurou

“Happy Single’s Awareness day!” You sing-song at the boys standing in front of your gate, the sun peeking out over the horizon.

“Just jumping over Valentines, then?” Kenma asks you, his face hidden in his switch.

“Yep! Nope! Not for me~ don’t need a valentine!” You’re carefree as you stroll ahead of the two of them, hands thrown behind your head. “Giving Valentine’s are dumb. Right, Kuroo!”

Kenma takes his time to pull his nose away from his switch to let his cat like gaze fall on his best friend, who’s been awfully quiet this morning. He knows why.

“Do you agree, Kuroo?” He asks, probing.

“...Yep. What type of headass buys into Valentines-” He criticizes.

Kenma knocks Kuroo’s bag with his elbow, his gaze transforming into a glare. You do, Kuroo. No chickening out.

Kuroo’s grasp on the bag resting on his shoulder tightens, well aware of what he has to do.

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

After school was over and practice was done, Kenma got dropped off at home because he wanted to go home early, for some reason. So now it’s just you and Kuroo, laying on the hill by the bridge, bathing in the hues of orange and pink as the sun sets slowly.

You stretch out on your back, relaxing onto the grass underneath you. “Man, did ya see all those idiots handing out valentine’s? So cheesy.” You close your eyes and pull your hands up to cushion your head, turning your chin up. Kuroo rests on his elbow, angled so that he can watch you as you talk, his hand scratching his head soothingly.

“ Who wants dumb chocolates anyways? You think these chicks would get sick of all the chocolates they get. Hmph.” He watches as your mouth twitches down, eyes squeezed tight.

To be fair, both of you were acting...different today. Kuroo can read you like a book, and even how he can still pick out the unease you’ve been tryna hide all day. But his own nervousness and jitters keeps him quiet.

As you both sit in silence, stewing in your feelings, Kuroo lets out a deep sigh. Now or never. You hear him rustle in his bag as he pushes something over to you. You open your eyes to see a small box by your shoulder with a cute lil cat sticky note pressed onto it- reading, “be Mine, Valentine? :3”

You freeze for a second, processing what he pushed over to you. You look up at Kuroo, who’s now turned his back to you, sleeping on his side.

You open the box and find a cute cat bracelet inside. “Kuroo?”

“You’ve been trashing valentine’s chocolates for a while now- so I figured I’d get you something better. It’s cheesy, I know. Don’t “at” me.” He stays, turned away from you.

You take your time to pull the bracelet out the box, letting heat rise to your face.

“Did you do this just because…? To make me feel better, or-”

“Still a headass huh.” He finally turns around, and you’re glad to see that his own face is as red as yours feels.

“Kuroo… do you, like me?”

“Damn, you’re gonna make me say it huh?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah I like you. Now hurry up and reject me so we can go back to being normal and I can get over my damn nerves. I hate not being myself.” He mutters as his lips twitch into a pout as he rests his bedhead into the grass, hands caressing his neck.

You take a second before crawling over to him, watching him in silence.

“You’re an idiot, too, ya know.” He peaks one eye open, to give you a questioning look. “Now help me put this bracelet on.”

“You like it?”

“I love it. I’m never taking it off.”

“You serious?!”

“Of course I’m serious.”

His Cheshire grin breaks out onto his face as he sits up, closing the gap between you two.

“Oh? Does someone like me back?”

“Yeah someone does. Now are you gonna help me or not.”

In that moment, you don’t think anything can compare to the sheer joy in Kuroo’s eyes as he carefully clasps the bracelet onto your wrist, wrapping his strong fingers around yours.

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the-desolated-quill · 4 years

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WandaVision: ‘Subverting’ Good Television - Quill’s Scribbles

(Spoilers for the first five episodes)

Hey everyone! Well... it’s been a while, hasn’t it? The last time I wrote a proper review or Scribble, people still thought the COVID crisis would be over within a month. The poor saps. But I thought that as a special way to mark this year’s Valentines Day, we could take a closer look at the Marvel Cinematic Universe’s shittiest power couple in their new Disney+ show WandaVision.

The first of many MCU spin-off shows that nobody asked for, broadcast exclusively on Disney’s totally unnecessary streaming platform, WandaVision is about everybody’s favourite whitewashed Nazi experiment and her red sexbot boyfriend as they try to fit into a suburban sitcom neighbourhood without arousing suspicion.

Yes, you read that correctly. The MCU has a sitcom now. My life is now complete.

Sarcasm aside, I was legitimately curious about WandaVision because of its unusual setting. And considering one of my most common criticisms of the MCU is its total lack of creativity, anything that’s even a little bit subversive is bound to attract my attention. Of course ‘subversive’ doesn’t necessarily mean ‘good.’ I could hand you a canvas smeared with my own shit and call it subversive. That doesn’t necessarily make it good art. And that’s exactly what WandaVision is. A canvas smeared with shit.

So lets split this critical analysis/review/angry bitter rant into two distinct chapters. The first focusing on the plot and setting, and the second focusing on the characters. Okay? Okay.

Chapter 1: Bewitched

Critics seem to be utterly enamoured with the whole sitcom gimmick, and it is a gimmick. As far as I can tell from the episodes I’ve seen, the sitcom setting serves no real purpose whatsoever other than to make the show ‘quirky.’ Which I wouldn’t mind, believe it or not, if the show was actually funny. There’s just one problem. It’s not.

Now in some ways describing why a sitcom doesn’t work is often futile because comedy is largely subjective. What I find funny, you won’t necessarily find funny and vice versa. With WandaVision, however, I won’t have that problem. I can demonstrate to you precisely why WandaVision, objectively, isn’t funny. And it all comes down to one simple thing. The stakes. Or rather the complete and total absence of stakes.

The show makes it very clear from the beginning that none of what we’re seeing is real. The cheesy theme song, the era appropriate special effects (mostly. It’s actually very inconsistent), the joke commercials, and, in the case of the first two episodes, which are in black and white, the appearance of red lights and objects in Scarlet Witch’s general vicinity. (Gee, what a mystery this is).

Basically Wanda has brought Vision back from the dead and created this sitcom world for them to inhabit. I’ll explain the stupidity of this in Chapter 2. The point is none of this is real, and that has a negative effect on the comedy because the very nature of comedy is suffering. Take the plot of the first episode. Wanda and Vision have to prepare a dinner to impress Vision’s boss. If they fail, Vision could lose his job and the couple could be exposed as superheroes. If this were a normal sitcom, it would work. The stakes are clear and it would be satisfying to see the two struggle and overcome the odds. But here, we know it’s not real. If it’s not real, it means there’s no stakes. If there’s no stakes, it means there’s no suffering. If there’s no suffering, there’s no comedy.

It would be one thing if the unfunny sitcom stuff lasted for like the first ten minutes or so before making way for the actual plot, but it doesn’t. Oh no. It doesn’t even last for the first episode. Out of the five episodes I’ve watched, four of them are almost entirely about these unfunny, objectively flawed sitcom homages, each set in a different time period. The fifties, the sixties, and so on. And what’s worse is that nothing that happens in them is plot-relevant. That gets relegated to the last five minutes of an episode. So you’re forced to sit through twenty five minutes of boring slapstick and puns in order to catch even a whiff of actual story. Which begs the question... who is this for exactly? It can’t be entertaining to Marvel fans, who have to slog through all this pointless shit so they can figure out what the fuck is going on. Comedy fans may get a kick out of the sitcom pastiche at first, but after four episodes, surely the joke would wear thin. So why is it in here? Clearly someone in the writer’s room absolutely fell in love with the idea of doing a Marvel sitcom, but nobody put in any time or effort to figure out how it would work in context.

I cannot stress enough how bad the plotting of this series is. As I said, the vast majority of a thirty minute episode is about shitty sitcom plots that aren’t funny and don’t have any impact on the story, only to then tease you with a crumb of actual plot in order to keep you coming back for the next instalment. Admittedly it’s an effective strategy. I was more than ready to quit after Episode 2 until that beekeeper showed up out of the sewer (don’t ask. It’s not important). WandaVision essentially follows the Steven Moffat school of bad writing. String your audience along with the promise that things might get more interesting later on and that all the bullshit that came before will retroactively make sense by the end. Except, as demonstrated with BBC’s Sherlock, that doesn’t work. And even if it did, it wouldn’t justify wasting the audience’s fucking time. And that’s what the majority of WandaVision is. A waste of time.

The only episode that doesn’t follow the sitcom format is the fourth episode. Instead it basically exists to explain all the shit that happened before. The shit that the audience, frankly, are smart enough to figure out for themselves. Wanda created the sitcom world as a way of coping with the loss of Vision, blah, blah, blah. Yeah, we got it. Thanks. It doesn’t advance the plot or anything. It’s just a massive info-dump. But by far the lowest point was when Darcy (by far the most annoying character in the first Thor film and is just as obnoxious here) was sat in front of the TV, watching the sitcom and asking the same questions we were. Not even attempting to look for answers. Just reiterating what the audience is thinking. Like this is an episode of fucking Gogglebox.

In the end it becomes apparent why the series is structured the way that it is. It’s to hoodwink people into subscribing to Disney’s stupid streaming service. If you think about it, there was no reason for WandaVision to be a TV series other than to lure gullible fans in with a piece-meal story buried in a mountain of crap. This isn’t a TV show. It’s what is cynically known in the world of big business executives as ‘content.’ They’re not interested in entertaining the audience. Instead they crave ‘engagement’, which isn’t the same thing. Watching WandaVision is like staring into the void, waiting for something to happen, while Disney charge you for the privilege.

Chapter 2: I Love Lucy

So the plot sucks balls. What about the characters? Surely if Wanda and Vision are likeable at least, it’ll give us something to cling onto.

Well as I was watching the first episode, it suddenly hit me that I couldn’t remember anything that happened to them in previous films. I knew Vision died, but other than that, I couldn’t tell you significant plot details or their personalities or anything. Not a great start.

See, up until now, Vision and Scarlet Witch have been little more than background characters. So already there’s an uphill struggle to get us invested in their relationship, especially considering we haven’t actually seen that relationship develop. In Avengers: Age Of Ultron, Scarlet Witch is killing people because she’s pissed off about Tony Stark killing people (you work that one out) until all of a sudden she stops and joins the good guys because the script said so. Vision meanwhile is introduced as a convenient deus ex machina to beat Ultron and gets no real personality other than he’s a robot. Captain America: Civil War comes the closest to giving Wanda a story and personality of her own as it’s her actions that cause the Sokovia Accords to come into effect, but she never gets any real growth or payoff as the film is heavily focused on Cap and Iron Man’s penis measuring contest. And as for Vision, all he does in the film is accidentally cripple War Machine. No real character or arc there as such. And then we have Avengers: Infinity War, where Wanda and Vision are now sporadically in love and on the run until that pesky Josh Brolin, looking like a CGI cross between Joss Whedon and a grumpy grape, comes along and rips out Vision’s Infinity Stone to power up his golden glove of doom, and the film treats this like a tragic moment, except... it isn’t. Because we haven’t really had the time to properly get to know these characters and see their romance blossom. So instead it just comes off as hollow and forced.

WandaVision has the exact same problem. Apparently Wanda was so distraught about Vision’s death that she broke into a SWORD base, stole his corpse, brought it back from the dead... somehow, and then enslaved an entire town of people to create an idyllic lifestyle for her and her hubby while broadcasting it as a sitcom to the outside world... for some reason. Putting aside the dubious morality of it all, it’s impossible to really sympathise with Wanda or her supposed grief because we’ve barely spent any time with her. Had the Marvel movies taken the time to properly explore the characters and show us their relationship grow and develop, this might have had more emotional resonance. But no, it just happens. In one film they barely speak to each other and in the next they’re a couple. No effort to explore how they feel about each other or any of the problems that may arise trying to date a robot. It just happens and we’re just supposed to care. Well I’m sorry, but I don’t care. You’re going to have to try a little bit harder than that I’m afraid. What’s worse is that, thanks to the whole fake sitcom thing, it’s impossible to really become invested in Wanda and her plight because the show has to constantly keep us at arms length at all times in order to keep up the pretence that this bullshit is somehow mysterious.

Looking through the WandaVision tag, it amuses me how many people say that she’s acting out of character. And yeah, her actions are a bit of a head scratcher. Why would an Eastern European’s ideal life be an American sitcom? Why a sitcom? Why kidnap an entire town? Why keep changing the decade? None of it makes sense, but you’re wrong for thinking that Wanda is behaving out of character for the simple reason that Wanda has never actually had a character. In fact, ironically, Wanda mind controlling an entire town and forcing them to do her bidding is probably the one consistent thing about her as she did this in Age Of Ultron. In interviews, Elizabeth Olsen and Paul Bettany described how they used actors like Elizabeth Montgomery and Dick Van Dyke as influences, which is really funny because they’re straight up admitting they don’t have characters and even now they’re still not playing the characters, instead emulating the work of far better actors.

As I was watching the show, it became abundantly clear that not only do Marvel not have the faintest idea what they wanted to do with these characters, but they also straight up don’t give a shit about these characters. Wanda in particular has had a rough time under the tyrannical regime of the House of Mouse. First they cast Elizabeth Olsen, a white woman, to play a Romani character, then systematically erasing her Jewish roots, even going so far as to put a cross in her bedroom in Civil War, and now the character is being butchered even more by forcing her into an American sitcom housewife role that she apparently willingly chose for herself, which is laughable. I mean say what you like about Magneto in the X-Men films, at least they actually depicted his Jewish culture. At least they recognised his Jewish background was important (though not important enough to cast a Jewish actor apparently). Wanda’s steady cultural erasure over the years is incredibly insidious and judging by Olsen’s comments in interviews, where she called Wanda’s comic book outfit a quote ‘gypsy thing’ unquote, it seems nobody has an ounce of fucking respect for the character or the culture she’s supposed to be representing. (and to all those kissing her arse saying it was a slip of the tongue, she has been repeatedly called out for using the slur in the past, so at this point I’d describe her behaviour as wilful ignorance)

If you want further proof of how much Marvel doesn’t seem to care about Wanda, look no further than her brother Pietro, aka Quicksilver. At the end of Episode 5, Wanda brings Pietro back from the dead, except it’s not Pietro. It’s Peter Maximoff, the Quicksilver from the X-Men films played by Peter Evans, who coincidentally is not Jewish or Romani either. So Quicksilver has the dubious honour of not only being whitewashed three times, but also twice within the same franchise. But should we really be surprised at this point? It’s Marvel after all. The same company that whitewashed the Ancient One in Doctor Yellowface and claimed it wasn’t racist because Tilda Swinton is ‘Celtic’. But now I’m going off topic. My point is that this isn’t a simple case of recasting an actor like Mark Ruffalo replacing Edward Norton as the Hulk. WandaVision actually acknowledges the recast in-universe, which makes no sense. Why would Wanda bring back her brother, only to make him look like a different person? We the audience may be familiar with this version of Quicksilver, but she isn’t. That would be like me bringing my Grandad back to life and making him look like Ian McKellen. He’d be perfectly charming, I’m sure, but he wouldn’t be my Grandad.

If Marvel really cared about the characters or narrative consistency, they would have brought Aaron Taylor Johnson back. Instead, now they have absorbed 20th Century Fox into the hellish Disney abyss, they use X-Men’s Quicksilver as a means to keep viewers from switching off and so that people will write stupid articles and think pieces about whether the rest of the X-Men will show up in the MCU. It’s like dangling your keys in front of a toddler’s face to distract them from the rotting corpse of a raccoon lying face down in the corner of the room.

And it’s here where I decided to stop watching the show because fuck Disney.

Epilogue: One Foot In The Grave

You know, I am sick and tired of the so called ‘professional’ critics bending over backwards to praise these god awful films and shows when it’s so clear to anyone with a functioning brain cell how bad they truly are. WandaVision is without a doubt one of the most cynically produced and poorly structured TV shows I’ve ever seen. Its riffs on classic sitcoms are pointless and self-indulgent, the writing is terrible, the characters are unlikable and unsympathetic, and it’s entirely emblematic of what the entire MCU has become of late. And it’s only going to get worse as Disney drowns us with more ‘content’ to keep the plebs ‘engaged’. In short; pathetic.

#anti wandavision #anti marvel #anti mcu #anti disney #quill's scribbles

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alfredosauce50 · 3 years

Text

Ghost of jealousy [Possessive! America x reader]

Wordcount: 5,545 Synopsis: Alfred gets upset when he finds you hanging around Mathias during his Halloween party. You tell him he’s your friend, but everything escalates into an argument, so he takes it outside to his car. He regrets everything he’s done, but you refuse to talk to him while he drives off to find some lodging for the night—an old inn. While you avoid him by staying in a separate room, it becomes apparent there’s something very off about this place. Something otherworldly. Will he make it up to you by saving you before something terrible happens?

(I was inspired by this song by Michael Jackson, “Ghosts”) The reader is referred to as she/her.

It didn’t bother you that Alfred always disappeared during his parties. He was the host, after all, and you were merely another attendee, boyfriend or not. There were guests to interact with, excitement to arouse, and the general gist of event-running. So while he was off doing his business, you loitered around in the kitchen with one of your friends. You were dressed as a mermaid, with a seashell bra and all, while Mathias was in his pirate get-up.

Here away from the incessant pounding of Halloween classics and chatter, you could actually hear him talk. "I think it’s cute that we’re matching! Are you sure you didn’t wear this on purpose just so we could look like a couple?" He grinned, earning a small gasp from you.

"Hey! It’s not my problem you wear the same thing every year, Mathias. I—on the other hand, change it up." You gloated a little at that, giving his hip a light bump. He had been sipping a cup of punch, but spilled some as a result. "Ah! Jeez.” Because it was so dark, with only jack-o-lanterns and fairy lights to illuminate the house, you never even realized.

"What’s wrong?”

"Why don’t you smell my coat to find out?” He hummed mischievously. Cupping a hand around your head, he pulled you in and pressed your face against a mysterious wet patch.

"Ew! What was that?!" You pulled away and rubbed your cheek as he exploded into a fit of laughter.

"... Juice?"

"That’s right, min prinsesse. And it’s all your fault." Leaning in with his hands on his hips, he tapped your nose. A dash of guilt was present in your eyes, so he quickly added this. "Don’t look so stressed, (F/N)! I always forgive what you do to me. Mostly. This time, if you wanna make up for it, you’ll have to go to our after-party for once!"

You blinked. "After-party? You mean with just you and Lukas and everyone?" He nodded excitedly. The question was innocent enough, but really, you had another concern in the back of your mind. Every year, you and Alfred would spend a night together after the festivities. You could only imagine how upset he’d get if that didn’t happen. He always valued the time together with you, even to the point of being a little excessive. "Mm... I don’t know. Alfred and I usually do something afterward. I’ll ask him."

His wide grin faltered a touch. Alfred this, Alfred that. Mathias couldn’t exactly say he was jealous—though he’d joke about it, a lot—but wasn’t he a little controlling sometimes? "Mm, mm. Not good enough. I won’t take no for an answer!" Scooping you up in a bridal style carry, you let out a small yelp and reached out for his neck to stabilize yourself. "Let the King of Scandinavia save you from the evil clutches of American capitalism!"

"Mathias, you idiot!" You hissed through a flustered expression, but you couldn’t deny you were enjoying yourself. While he laughed away, bouncing you in his arms, you bonked him on the head numerous times. "Put. Me. Down!"

"Ow. Ah! Okay, okay, stop hitting me!" The Dane was as big of a goofball as your boyfriend, but just less serious most of the time. That was right. As your relationship with Alfred progressed, he was less easy-going than he initially seemed. More stubborn. Argumentative. And you never imagined how soon you would see this side of him.

"What’s this about saving (F/N) from the evil clutches of American capitalism?"

The chorus of you and Mathias’s laughter came to an abrupt end. Uh oh. Turning to the voice, you found yourself staring at none other than your boyfriend, dressed in a long orange coat with a Jason Vorhee's mask on the side of his head. And his arms were crossed with an unamused expression. Only then did you feel yourself get set down to the floor. Great. "Alfred, hey! We were just talking about his after-party. You know, the one where they have a lego-building contest?"

"Mhm. Sounds fun. But we’re doing something even better." Reaching out to your hand, he pulled you away from your friend, much to your displeasure. Mathias didn’t look all too happy either. Alfred then managed a small smile, but it was a little strained. "So c’mon, babe. Most of the party’s events are ending, anyway. Let’s go to my car." He squeezed you in his grip and turned to leave, all with you in tow.

But you weren’t having it. Couldn’t he at least let you explain yourself a little better, considering how upset he seemed already? You stopped, the action pulling on his arm so he would too. "Wait, Al. He asked if I wanted to go, and I kinda want to. Just this one time, please? Lukas, Berwald, Tino, and Emil are gonna be there too—" The fact that you were listing all these names only made it blatantly obvious who was in right, and who was in the wrong.

All you were asking for was some time with your friends. But he played the jealous boyfriend role all too well.

He turned to you with a frown. It was annoying enough to see Mathias carrying you like that. But going to a sleepover with him? He couldn’t be any less enthusiastic. "No, (F/N). Halloween is our thing. We’re supposed to spend the night together like we always do." Reaching out to your cheek, he caressed it gently. "You can hang out with them any other day of the year. Just not today."

Unlike other times, you didn’t give in. He already showed up with an attitude, so sweet-talking wasn’t going to cut it. Especially when you felt Mathias’s hand on your shoulder. The thought that he was behind you and trying to calm you down only egged you on to stand your ground. "Any other day? You’d have to exclude Valentine’s Day, Christmas, New Year’s, and St. Patty’s as well. I never get to celebrate them with my friends, either, so can’t you let me go this one time?"

The room fell silent. Even with the Dane’s friends present, nobody spoke a word. And nobody had to because they all shared one thought.

Alfred was being way too controlling.

Almost as if he could read their minds, he felt himself crumble under their scrutiny. "I’m not talking about this here with you." Without another word, he pulled you out of the house against your will.

"And why not? Is it because Mathias is here?" You retorted, feeling bile rise in your throat.

Once you and he disappeared out the door, Lukas made a brief comment.

"... He really has to stop doing that."

“Yep. Man, I wish he’d just step on a lego." The blonde heaved out a sigh.

"Fair enough."

Once Alfred managed to get you outside his car, he turned to you to finally give you an answer. "And what if it is because he’s there, (F/N)?" He exasperated, already feeling his tongue start slipping now that he was alone with you. And his words only held more impact against the deafening silence of the night. "The reason why I don’t want you hanging out with them on special occasions is cuz’ he’s in the group.”

“Why? Do you hate him or something? But that’s got nothing to do with me!" You ripped your hand from his grip to see his eyes widen with shock. This was the first time you ever lashed out, so he could already feel the inklings of regret well in his chest. He should’ve just shut his trap and let you go.

But something told him he would’ve never let that happen.

"They’re my friends, Alfred! You can’t expect me to pass on every invite they give me just because you don’t like someone!"

He dug his hands through his sandy locks of hair stressfully.

"That’s the thing! Mathias obviously doesn’t just wanna be friends with you! He likes you, I can tell!" He yelled.

The cat was finally out of the bag now. What had been plaguing his mind for months was this—competition. And he hoped that admitting it would somehow get you to understand his behavior, no matter how uncalled for it had been.

But you didn’t. You refused to.

Your jaw dropped, but not out of surprise. Instead, it was pure disappointment. "Even if he did, are you saying you don’t trust me with him?" You scoffed, folding your arms at him.

At this point, Alfred knew how bad he fucked up.

"No, that��s not what I—" His brows knitted together, and his cerulean blue eyes welled with moisture. "I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. I just..." But it was.

Wasn’t it?

Otherwise, why else was he so possessive of you?

"It’s exactly what you meant. If it wasn’t, you’d be defending yourself by now." A small smile curled up at your lips, and it was from anything but mirth. It was your defense mechanism to keep the waterworks at bay, but even that had failed you. The tears finally came spilling over the rim, streaming down your face as he watched on with guilt.

"Even if you hate him, he’s not what you think he is. It wouldn’t matter if he loved me. He wouldn’t do anything because he respects me." Reaching up to your eyes, you rubbed them, but the effort was in vain as you let out a sob. "If you’re so quick to doubt me, then maybe..." You struggled to string together the words as you continued to cry. "Maybe we shouldn’t..."

Maybe we shouldn’t be together anymore.

Alfred froze. Anything but that. And yet, you had all the right in the world to think of ending things. But his heart couldn’t take it.

"No, no, no... Don’t you finish that sentence..." You would probably hate him after this, but kissing you was what he first thought of. The connection between his and your lips managed to silence you, and the close proximity let you feel the waves of heat radiating from his face. And he continued to kiss you, gently, for as long as you let him until you decided to shove him away.

"Don’t." You whispered faintly, albeit firmly. Leaving his side to get into the passenger seat of his car, you buckled yourself up and turned to the window.

He breathed out a sigh, but joined you in the driver’s seat. Facing you with remorse so deep, it made his eyes droop. "You know I love you, right?"

You were still crying, and you never spared him so little as a single glance.

He royally screwed up, for sure.

The engine purred to life. Now, to find a place to stay for the night. Hopefully, he could make up with you before lights out. But his gut told him it wouldn’t be so simple. The car began to move, crushing sticks and leaves under the wheels as he drove on a dirt path deep in the woods. He picked this cabin for the ominous ambiance, but he was beginning to regret his choices. The same could be said for everything he did tonight, hell, the same could be said for how he acted all these months.

He was the jealous, insecure, shitty boyfriend.

And the whole time, he never realized how kind you were to put up with him.

He wanted to tell you he trusted you. To pull you into his arms and apologize a million times. But what could he say to convince you when he’d come off as a liar? Even he didn’t know if he could be honest. Why did Mathias’s presence get him to feel like this, anyway? He boiled it down to how similar he was to him. Like you always said, he and Mathias were two of the same person. Loud, fun, and obnoxious sweethearts. So of course he started comparing himself to him.

And he was doing it right now. He couldn’t imagine Mathias ever having these kinds of problems if he dated you. Fuck. Aside from self-loathing and bitter regret, he was beginning to feel the beginnings of ugly jealousy all over again.

Are you serious right now, Alfred? He thought.

Narrowing his eyes on the road that seemed to disappear, he slowed to a stop. Was it just him losing concentration over these thoughts, or did he really lose his way? Perhaps. But at least he found something. He peered around his windshield to see a few rooftops resembling an old, vintage villa in the distance. Could that possibly be a motel?

He sped up and drove closer and closer until he reached a clearing. Climbing out of his car with you trailing close behind, he made his way to the entrance of the establishment. There was an open lawn in front of the building, and in one of the gardens stood a wooden sign with "The Aura Inn" inscribed into it. Neither of you thought much of it, let alone read the little sub-paragraph of text below it.

"Let’s go." Looking at you over his shoulder, he held out a hand for you to take. You just brushed past him and kept walking. Right. He forgot for a second that you were mad at him.

The only thing that concerned you was having somewhere to stay the night, so the reception was the first stop. Making up with him could come later.

Upon arriving, you were greeted by nothing but an empty room. There was no furniture besides a wooden counter, and even then, it was lacking quite a few amenities. There was no receptionist here either, and yet, the lights were on. That could only mean one thing. Somebody was here, just not in a way you liked. But you were just overthinking, weren’t you? Needless to say, this inn was starting to feel a little off to you.

Gripping the scales of your mermaid dress, you turned to Alfred with a nervous glance. Immediately, he responded with a reassuring smile.

"You okay, babe?"

Hold on. Did he just call you babe? Your mood went sour when you felt yourself nearly give in to him. What he did couldn’t be forgiven so easily, otherwise, how could he take your feelings seriously? So you forced yourself to lie.

"Yes." You murmured. "I’m perfectly fine."

He knew you were lying, but he couldn’t blame you.

"Okay. I’ll just... Get us a room. I think this is an Airbnb." He pulled out his phone.

The thought of sleeping in the same bed as him irked you, to say the least. After the stunt he pulled today, which effectively stopped you from going to Mathias’s after-party, you needed some space. That was right. How come after all these years, you’ve never been to one of his infamous after-parties? Even though you were a close friend of his? It was simple. Because Alfred never let you go. God, thinking about it just made you relive the anger all over again.

So before he finished the booking, you reached out for his arm.

"Wait. I don’t want to be in the same room as you."

He paused, and you saw sadness flash in his eyes. And once again, you found yourself tempted to cave. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

"... Oh. Sure." Alfred finished with the online forms and walked you to your room. The halls were long, winding, and dimly-lit. You would’ve thanked him for accompanying you in this unsettling place, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. Once you managed to open the door, which wasn’t locked, he gave you a reluctant goodbye. Resting his arms against the doorframe, he gazed down at you with a bittersweet smile. "Night, babe. I’ll see you in the morning—"

The door slammed in his face and he cringed.

"... Love you too." He murmured, clenching his fists against the door. This was by far the worst argument he’s ever had with you, and it was all his fault.

Pressing your back against the door, you felt blood rush up to your face after hearing what he said. He nearly had you. But you managed to seal yourself away in the safety of your room. It hurt to push him away, but you had to. He couldn’t keep having his way. Alfred needed to accept the consequences of his actions, and you needed to be strong enough for that to happen.

And plus, he needed to get used to not having you around him all the time. But the boy was excessively clingy, and you let this carry on for far too long.

Unpacking your things on the bed, you got your things ready for a shower. As you melted into the hot embrace of the water, your concerns of this inn melted away too. It was just Halloween jitters, wasn’t it? Turning off the faucet, you dried yourself off with a towel before getting dressed. When you exited the bathroom, your room was plunged into almost pitch-black darkness. But you never turned off the lights.

Perhaps this was an energy-saving function.

Well, it saved you from the effort of going to the light switch, anyhow.

Before you moved from your spot, you shuddered at the feeling of a cold draft blowing against your body. Looking over to the source, you were shocked to see that the door was wide open, letting the dim halls stare back at you.

There was probably a little wind tonight, and somehow, you didn’t shut the door properly. Making your way to close it again, you made sure you heard a little click. When you did, you didn’t feel any wind from outside at all, not even a gentle breeze.

Weird.

Setting your things down on the bedside table, you climbed into bed and tucked yourself in. While you made yourself comfortable, you faced the entirety of the room, which had a small wall-mounted TV, rocking chair, and desk. Of course there was a rocking chair. And you somehow couldn’t tear your gaze away from its faint outline in the dark.

Then, it began to rock.

Forwards and backward as if an invisible entity was sitting in it.

“!” Your blood ran cold and you buried your head underneath the blanket. Something was in the room with you. Unlike before, you couldn’t blame it on the wind because you just closed the door. As you came to terms with that reality, the icy hands of fear gripped around your heart. Your breathing grew ragged and uneven. There was something behind you. Someone behind you.

You could practically feel their presence creeping towards you. Closer and closer to your bed as the carpet compressed under its footsteps. Your chest constricted when you felt the bed dip under a weight.

Then, it began to crawl.

But you were too terrified to scream, let alone move.

In that moment, you never regretted your decisions this much in your life. And you never wished more for Alfred to be with you.

Unbeknownst to him as he finished up with his own shower in his room, you were left paralyzed in bed. If he’d known what was happening, he would have run to you as fast as he could. But he didn’t. He only assumed you were busy brooding over him, and maybe even second-guessing your relationship with him. The thought was reasonable, and that upset him to no end. Throwing his towel to a random spot in the room, he fell on his back onto the bed.

Reaching out to the ceiling to stare at his arm, he sighed.

“I’m so sorry...” He murmured, lowering his hands to cover his face with them.

If he was lucky, he’d be able to make up with you by the end of tomorrow. But for now, he was burdened with uncertainty. But his attention was quickly diverted to something else. A laugh. Your laugh. Sitting up with visible confusion, he listened in to the muffled sounds of your voice down the hall.

The walls here were thin, so it didn’t surprise him he could hear you so clearly.

But what did was what he heard next. Another voice talking, and it belonged to a boy. His heart sank to the pit of his stomach as he registered it as someone he knew. Mathias. Wait a second, what the hell was he doing here? But there was no way he could be, right? Didn’t he have an after-party to be at? The longer he eavesdropped on the conversation, the more obvious it became that it was Mathias. And they were talking about him.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come this year. Again. But you know how Alfred gets.”

“Yeah... Don’t worry about it. This can be our own little after-party. Just as long as he doesn’t find out, you’ll be fine!”

Wait, what?

From what he heard, it sounded like you really had moved on. But you never had the decency to tell him, and that was what filled him to the brim with betrayal--it broke his heart. Was this why you wanted to be in a separate room tonight? Sliding himself off the bed, he stormed out the door to find you. His glasses were already fogging up, but he never bothered to clear them as he marched down the empty halls.

Your voices grew louder and louder, all until he came to a stop outside a room he never booked. That was right. He applied for one with a single bed. He could only imagine what you were doing with Mathias in a room with a double bed.

The laughing continued behind the door.

“You know these walls are thin, right?” He began lowly. Swinging open the door, the noises disappeared along with the people inside. The room was completely dark, and when he flicked on the lights, you and Mathias were nowhere in sight. Not a soul was in here.

“... What the fuck.” He grumbled.

He swore he heard you both giggling away like school children. Did you two hear him coming and hide somewhere? He was skeptical, but he checked around nonetheless. In the wardrobe, then under the bed. There was no sign of either of you. The shower, maybe? Stepping into the bathroom and pulling open the curtains, he was prepared to catch you red-handed. But there was nothing there except for a porcelain white tub. A defeated sigh fell from his lips. What the hell was going on? Alfred was completely sober, a miracle considering he usually drank at his parties. So he had a terrible feeling he wasn’t just hearing things. That only pointed towards one explanation.

This inn was totally haunted.

And whoever, or whatever that haunted it was toying with him.

He swallowed thickly and turned to the mirror, only to jump at what he saw. The reflection revealed a figure standing behind him.

It was Mathias, except his face was twisted in a sick smile.

“Holy shit--!” Alfred paled as he stared face to face with the entity. As he lost himself in its soulless, blue eyes, he was overcome with dread, almost as if the spirit was forcing fear into him. Reminding him of his failures, insecurities, and the uncertainty of his relationship. All of his faults flashed in his mind again and again so incessantly, he thought he would break down on the spot.

Where is (F/N)?

She doesn’t want you anymore.

You should just give up.

And the deeper in he spiraled into these self-destructive thoughts, the wider the entity smiled, its lips stretching to impossible lengths it became grotesque. Darting his wide eyes around the reflection in his bout of panic, he saw its hand reach out to his shoulder in the mirror. He didn’t know how he managed to do this, but he spun around quickly to defend himself. And there was nobody there.

In his brief moment of disorientation, the spirit shot out two arms, breaking the barrier of the glass. Tightening its hands around his neck, Alfred was pulled back against the mirror and choked. “Gh--!” His airway was completely constricted by the iron grip, and he was forced to struggle a few inches above the ground.

Digging his fingernails into the hands, he never felt them loosen.

So he did the unthinkable--he started to smash his fist against the mirror. It hurt like hell and left his knuckles bruised and raw, but the thought of you in danger kept him going. That was right. There was no saying if you weren’t being choked, attacked, or worst. Punching the glass again and again, it finally shattered, and the grip around his neck loosened.

The mirror was reduced to shards and fell into the sink.

Falling to the ground in a loud thump, he stood up while coughing violently.

The arms disappeared, and so did the entity.

And Alfred had a feeling it had to do with the mirror it was in.

Leaving the bathroom with heavy breaths, he ran back to his room and picked up his chainsaw. Halloween had the perks of carrying around dangerous tools, and he was never this glad that he took it with him instead of leaving it in his car unattended. Too bad he was out of costume, though. But a white tank and boxers would do. Holding it above his chest, he revved his chainsaw and ran out the door.

It was time to fuck shit up.

You were still stuck in bed, but the spirit managed to remove your blanket. A soft whimper fell from your lips as your only form of protection was stripped away. If you thought you were terrified, then you would prove yourself wrong with a whole new level of fear as two arms wrapped around your neck from behind. No way. Was it going to choke you? One of its legs was thrown over yours, so you were completely enveloped by its limbs.

As you trembled away in the dark, you let out a soft cry when you felt its warm breath tickle your ear.

“I missed you. Why didn’t you wanna stay in a room with me?” It cooed, the voice sending shivers down your spine. It sounded strangely similar to Alfred’s, and what he said was exactly what he would’ve said too, except it wasn’t him. You never saw him come in, and the last time you checked, he wasn’t invisible.

“... W-What... What are you?” You stammered, feeling a hand glide down your bare thigh. “Stop--”

“I’m his desire, sweetheart.” It began in a low and alluring voice. “Every feeling in the Aura inn festers into a semi-physical form. That’s why I’m here right now. Because he wants you.”

You screwed your eyes shut. Just what the hell kind of place was this inn? A magical hut that personified emotions? “... Can you please let me go? I don’t like the way how you’re... Hugging me.” You pleaded, only to feel the entity tighten itself around you.

“But I don’t want to. He doesn’t want to.” It responded with a hum. “I reflect everything he wants. And currently, he wants to see you more than anything. Especially when he’s dealing with jealousy... And having a hard time at that.”

“Jealousy?” It wasn’t shocking, per se, but he had you curious. If desire festered into a sultry form of someone and hugged their object of affections, what did jealousy turn into? “... I knew he was jealous of Mathias. But that’s not the problem here. We’ll sort it out later. If you’re desire, then what’s jealousy like?”

It let out a deep, foreboding laugh. “Depends. If it’s only a little bit of envy, he’ll start hearing things that hit his nerves. Nothing but... Harmless fun.” You felt yourself get rolled onto your back, and you were caught off guard by what loomed over you. It was Alfred himself, or more accurately put, his personified desire, but this time, you could see him. “But if his jealousy gets mixed in with insecurity, that’s when things get pretty ugly...”

You furrowed your brows with concern. “Ugly? How so? Is he gonna be okay?”

It craned his head from side to side. “Who knows.”

“But I’ll tell you a few things that I do know. Jealousy tends to be pretty sneaky. It’ll snoop around in mirrors and attack him.” You tensed up all over. “So Alfred will have to smash every mirror in the inn to get it to come out. And when it does, all he needs to do is be with you to send it away.”

Loud chainsaw noises were heard down the halls, silencing both you and the entity. Following that was the shattering of glass.

“... Hm. Looks like he already figured it out.”

Joy filled you to the brim and you smiled wide. “He really did! I’m so glad!” Reaching out to hug the entity around its chest, you pulled away and slid yourself off the bed.

“Thank you, um, Alfred’s desire! I’m gonna go find him now!”

He laid on his side and watched you run off. “You can just call me Alfred.”

“Okay, Alfred!”

While you exited the room to stand in the halls, you found yourself staring at a number of doors that were wide open, and the lights on inside. You assumed those were the rooms he already cleared, which meant he still had quite a bit to do. But he was fast. Appearing out of one room, he continued tearing down door after door to smash every single mirror and window in the inn. And soon, he managed to reduce every piece of glass present into shards.

Once the chainsaw revs came to a stop, you called out his name.

“Alfred!”

He jerked up at the sound, then glanced around. “(F/N)!?” While he was on the first floor in the courtyard, you were on the second in the mezzanine, so he had to glance up to see you. “Oh God, I was so worried! Are you okay?” He shouted.

“Yes!” You called back. “This place is... Super haunted. Let’s get out of here!”

“You called it. I nearly got murdered!”

Running down the stairs to meet with him, you practically jumped onto him after he dropped his chainsaw to the ground. Embracing you with his strong arms, he pressed kiss after kiss all over your face. While he did, you spotted another figure standing by the stairs. Was that Mathias? You couldn’t take a better look at him before he disappeared into thin air. “Oh my fucking god. I missed you so much.” He exasperated, setting you down on your feet. “You won’t believe what happened. I’ll explain everything in the car.”

As he led you out of the Godforsaken inn, he gripped you tight with his hand. And you squeezed right back. “Let me guess. You were attacked by something in the mirror so you shattered every single one here. I know.”

At this point, you and him had arrived outside his car.

Turning to you with shock, he placed his hands on his hips.

“And how the hell did you know? I thought it was original enough that you wouldn’t be able to guess!” He exclaimed, much to your amusement.

“Mm... Not really. With how many horror movies you’ve watched, I wouldn’t put it past you to come up with a solution like that.” Giving him an affectionate pinch on the cheek, he rubbed the spot with a light pout. You considered telling him the truth, but you already wanted to forget tonight. If he didn’t know about it, then moving on yourself would be so much easier.

“Now, I think you have some apologizing to do.”

He softened his gaze. “Yeah... I really do. Sorry for everything. Sorry for being a dick. And not just... For today.” Pulling you into another hug, he nestled his chin into your shoulder. God, did it feel good to have you in his arms again. “I’m gonna be real. I never hated Mathias. He’s my friend. But seeing him with you gets me... Really jealous. And it’s not cuz’ I don’t trust you, it’s because I’m...” His cheeks grew rosy. “I don’t know. I just feel...”

You knew he’d get stuck at this part, so you helped him.

“Because you feel insecure?”

“... Yeah.”

“You idiot...” A soft, content sigh was heard from your end. “It doesn’t matter how similar you are to him. You don’t have to try to make any changes or keep him away from me for me to choose you.”

His heart fluttered as he released you with a sheepish smile.

“I really needed to hear that. So, thanks.” Alfred murmured, reaching out to cup your cheek. “Kinda lame of me to put you through that. I should’ve just talked it out with you.”

“Yeah, you dumbass.” You grumbled, but it was on an affectionate note.

“So, do you think we’ll make it in time to the party for me to carpool with Mathias back to his place? I wanna see what they’re building this year!”

He frowned, but his expression was short-lived as a smile began creeping onto his lips. “Are you serious right now?”

“I’m kidding!”

🎶 Tell me, are you the ghost of jealousy?

This is a request. Thank you for requesting.

#parry this you fucking casual #hetalia #hetalia fanfiction #hetalia x reader #america x reader #aph america x reader #APH America #axis powers hetalia #Axis powers ヘタリア #supernatural #ghosts #spooky #halloween #request #oneshot #ask answered #reader insert #alfred f jones

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msmarvelouswinchester · 4 years

Text

Irresistibly Yours

Chapter 2 - Noise Complaint

Summary - Y/N Y/L/N moves to NYC in hopes for a fresh start after a nasty breakup. There she meets her neighbor, the cynical lawyer, Dean Winchester. A love-hate relationship starts evolving between them ever since they met in the elevator one morning but a desperate situation and a string of lies forces the two friendly rivals to go on a date or rather a fake date. Will sparks fly between them when Dean gets to know Y/N real and up close? Will Y/N finally find her Prince Charming in the grumpy, workaholic, divorce lawyer?

Pairing - Lawyer!Dean Winchester x Y/N

Warning - None expect meanie Dean (Suspicious, isn’t it?)

WC - 2154

Square Filled - Don't put me in this position ( @anyfandomgoesbingo )

A/N - I promise the next chapter will have more of Dean and more conflict! This is just the beginning of a very long ride. Enjoy!

Beta’d by @miss-nerd95

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist Masterlist

The silence in the cab on her way back to her apartment gave her the quality time she needed to think. In a few weeks, Meg was getting married and now, since they knew, Y/N had to show up with her 'boyfriend’. She racked her brain, scrambling to come up with a good excuse because it was all a big lie.

Every time, however, she reached two conclusions - either make a fool of herself and admit that she lied or tell everyone that she broke up and be the one person at the wedding that everyone looks down on with pitiful eyes.

There was a third option, which was risque as hell too, cause Y/N barely knew the man and their first meeting did not go so well, but there was definitely something about him that made her blush every time she thought of him.The way he carried himself and the dominating vibes he gave off, sent shivers down her spine. Maybe he wasn't a morning person and she did start blabbering in the elevator the minute she stepped in. She swallowed hard when she remembered the way her name rolled off his tongue. ‘How did he know?’ She wondered.

As Y/N boarded the elevator, she thought about how, she wanted nothing more than to see a certain green-eyed man again. She had been residing in this complex for almost three months but she had never seen the man before. Maybe he was new here, in this apartment building, who knew? Mind plagued by millions of thoughts, Y/N trudged down the empty hallway to her cosy little home.

“Who invented these fucking heels?” She grumbled as she freed her feet out of the painful, yet pretty high heels when she reached the comfort of her own home. Shrugging her coat off, she relaxed as her ass hit the soft mattress of the couch.

“I need a date in seven weeks.” She said, making a mental note of the wedding date. This was the only wedding she ever looked forward to attending where she knew she wouldn't have to face the constant stream of questions involving her dating life and a particular man. All she ever wanted was to be with her close friend on the best day of her life.

“First dress fitting - tomorrow at 10.” Her phone lit up with an incoming text and groaning, she dropped her head backwards. Y/N couldn't even skip the wedding if she wanted to. She was one of the bridesmaids and it wouldn't be fair to both Meg and Cas, if she didn't attend it. A smile graced her frowning face when she remembered the time Cas proposed to her friend on Valentine's Day. Cliche- Y/N would say, but deep down, she knew she just wanted what Cas and Meg had.

A sigh left her lips as she got up, still in her work clothes. She put on some light music as she went into the bathroom to freshen up. After the long, tiring day she had, a warm bath and a Ryan Gosling movie were very much needed. Quickly stripping off, she stepped into the tub. She leaned her head backwards, closing her eyes, as the warm water soothed her aching body and her troubled mind.

“Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone,” Y/N sang along the song, slightly off tune but she didn't care, as she stepped out of the bathroom after some time. She let go of the towel wrapped around her body and stepped into a pair of comfortable pjs. Getting a box cold pizza out from her refrigerator, she turned up the volume of the music playing in her apartment.

“He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring, and said,” Y/N yelled out the chorus when she started to heat up the pizza. Her private singing session, however, was cut short by a sudden knock on the door. She grudgingly pressed pause as she walked up to the door to find out the unwanted visitor.

“Excuse me- Ms L/N?” As soon as she opened the door, she was met by a very familiar, deep baritone that had been haunting her.

“Dean Winchester. And please, call me Y/N,” she breathed out. The formality in Dean’s voice made her cringe. Her eyes fell as she took in the man in front.

Dean had gotten rid of the dapper grey suit and slipped into a much laid back look. A black polo t-shirt fitted over his body and plain blue jeans hugging his bowlegs perfectly. The look on his face mirrored the one from the morning and Y/N wondered if he would look better with a smile on. Her train of thoughts were again rudely interrupted by the man speaking.

“I assume you're having somewhat of a casual evening,” Dean said, his hands waving to point at her pjs, making her suddenly self-conscious of her clothing state.

“Y-yeah. How may I help you?” She asked, genuinely curious.

“See, I moved in the apartment right beside you a few days ago, and I think you might have noticed sometime or the other that there are other people living in this building as well,” Dean said, his face not imparting any sort of emotions, “You might be having a casual evening but I can assure you that there's at least one person who is certainly not. Turn the music level down.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open at Dean’s words but she wasn't going to turn down the volume just because a man turned up at her door, asking her to do so. His words were sharp, but his tone was downright rude, and it was definitely not because he wasn't a morning person. The least he could have done was ask her nicely.

“Well, listen here pal, no one's having a problem, other than you. So you can go back to your room, put on some earplugs and do whatever the heck you were doing before you decided to make my day more awful,” Y/N said, taking a threatening stance with hands on her hips, a deep frown on her face.

“I'll file a noise complaint report against you.” Dean warned with his pointer finger right in front of her eyes.

“It's just music. Learn to appreciate the little things in life.” She said while rolling her eyes.

“I'm a very busy man and I got work to do, alright? And speaking about music, play something actually good like Zeppelin and people will personally come up to thank you. This song is not even a classic.” Dean spat back.

“Believe me or not, everyone is a Swiftie at heart.” She smirked with a sarcastic shrug. Dean’s lips twitched in anger as his face grew more rigid before he said, “If you don't lower the volume, expect a noise complaint report delivered with your newspaper tomorrow.” He walked away before Y/N had a chance to even think of a comeback.

Glancing over his shoulder, Dean went inside his own apartment room right beside Y/N’s. She glared at the empty hallway before swinging her door shut and walked back to her room towards her amazon echo, turning the music down anyway. She couldn't risk getting a report filed against her, and the man appeared to be dead serious about what he threatened to do.

“Stupid Dean Winchester.” She grumbled.

Squinting at the clock, Y/N woke up the next morning to loud bangs on her door. 7:30 am, it read. Removing the covers, she immediately shivered when the cool air hit her bare legs.

Hair still a mess, she grabbed her robe from the nearby chair, putting it on along with her slippers before she warily made her way to the door. “Dean will be complaining now for sure.” She grumbled as she unlocked her door to reveal her friend standing on the other side in a dishevelled state, eyes red like a mad woman.

“Meg?” Her face scrunched up in confusion as the said woman shoved past her into her apartment. “You’re wearing your shirt inside out.” Y/N closed the door behind her as Meg took a seat on the couch.

“Can I have some water?” Y/N dumbfoundedly nodded at her friend’s request and went to her kitchen to retrieve a glassful. Handing the glass over to her, she sat down next to the brunette who gulped down the entire glass of water in one go. Setting the utensil down on the wooden coffee table in front, she turned towards Y/N with slightly glossy eyes as she spoke, “I don’t want to go and finalise the dresses.”

Her words elicited a laugh from Y/N before she said, “Okay, bridezilla, we can reschedule it. Cas should better watch out!” She chuckled out the last words.

“No, y-you don’t understand!” Meg grabbed her friend’s hands, surprising the latter, “I don’t want to try the dress on at all.” Y/N was utterly surprised over her friend's outburst.

“Honey, you have a wedding in less than two months.” Y/N cooed as a few drops of tears rolled down the bride-to-be’s cheeks. “Meg, talk to me. Did something happen between you two?”

The woman shook her head, letting the other lady in the room know that she didn't have to kick Cas’ ass to her relief, but it confused her even further. Since their engagement five months ago, Meg had been over the moon and had started planning every minute detail with high precision and finesse for her big day.

“What if I'm making a huge mistake?”

“Don’t put me in this position. You know how I am when it comes to-”

“But I need to know, and I trust you.”

Y/N pressed her lips into a thin line before she said, “Cas is the best thing that has ever happened to you-”

“You barely even knew me when I started to go out with him. We have only been together for fifteen months - five of which I have spent being engaged to him. What if I regret this later?” Meg's words were correct. Y/N used to barely talk to her when she had started dating Cas, but all through those eighteen months, as she slowly got to know the pair well enough, she knew that they were clearly meant to be in it for the long haul.

“But I have never seen you regret your decision to be with Cas even once… so why start now?.” Y/N politely answered, her hands letting go of her distraught friend's iron-clad grasp and reaching out to soothe her.

“Sometimes even if you have been with your man for what feels like forever, marrying him might seem to be the worst decision you can ever make, but it doesn't matter how long you have been with him. When you know, you know. Follow your heart.” Meg looked up at her as she mulled her words over before speaking.

“I love him.” She said.

“Then go, be with him.” Y/N smiled. Crisis averted.

A smile started to appear on Meg’s tear stained face as her eyes twinkled with a suggestive glimmer in them. Fiddling with her sparkling ring, she said, “Dean’s good for you. Don't let him go.”

Y/N was taken aback by her friend's supposition. She sat up straight in her seat as heat crept up her neck. Her mind was stuck in a turmoil as she tried to come up with an appropriate response.

“He’s not-Dean is not-” She stuttered, the words got stuck in her throat when she tried to think of a decent excuse. Maybe, this was the universe giving her a chance to take back everything she had said before, but the disheartened look on her friend’s face made her rethink her decision. After all, a little white lie never hurt anybody. “Yeah, he is a good man.” Meg smiled as Y/N played her into the deception game once again.

“Will he be at the wedding?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“What are you waiting for? Unless he is a figment of your imagination, ask him! I want to meet this certain Dean Winchester.” Meg giggled.

“I don’t have such vivid imaginations, Meg.” Y/N let out a nervous chuckle. She was now being given an ample amount of opportunities to tell the truth, then why was it so hard for her to deny everything she had said? Maybe she liked living in this utopian world where for once, no one deemed her as the broken, pathetic girl who failed to make a man stay. Maybe deep down, she wanted this damn lie to be true.

“I’ll ask him but you do know how men are about weddings.” She replied, having no knowledge of how to keep her end of the promise.

Chapter 3

Feedback is highly appreciated

If you want to be tagged in the series, lemme know!

#dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean x y/n #au dean x reader #au dean winchester x reader #dean fanfics #dean fanfiction #spn fanfic #irresistibly yours

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buckysnumberonegirl · 4 years

Text

Three Cheers for Iron and Thunder

Part 6

Prompt from the HBCS Week of love day 7- first Valentine’s day

Pairing(s)- Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings- Fluffity fluff fluff

Part 5 / Finale

Hi Loves, I can’t believe we’re so close to the end. This is the last official chapter of Three Cheers of Iron and Thunder, the next (and last) part is just a little afterwards Drabble that will probably be up later today. I really hope you enjoyed this series, I know I enjoyed writing it. As always comments and reblogs are appreciated💕

You woke up to the sound of the door softly being shut and the smell of slightly burnt pancakes. You sat up and saw Bucky grinning at you. He held a wooden tray with a plate of food. Pancakes, some bacon, eggs, a cup of tea and coffee, one for you and one for him. You also noticed he had put some flowers in a glass, although you were almost sure the flowers were from Wanda garden.

“You look more beautiful than the sunrise Doll” Bucky set down the tray and kissed your forehead before sliding into bed next to you.

‘Did you get up early just to do all this?’ Bucky's eyes lit up.

“Do you like it? I asked Wanda for help after the pancakes... she said you’d love it”

You looked at the tray in front of you and felt pure bliss. ‘I do love it Buck, you went above and beyond’ you paused ‘ what do you mean after the pancakes? These seem fine’

Bucky blushed and brought his hand to the back of his neck, his typical response when he got nervous.

“Well let’s just say it’s been a while since I’ve been in the kitchen… and high heat doesn’t mean quicker”

The two of you ate your breakfast and talked about what you were going to do. A walk in the park where you had your first date, rewatching the movie you saw the day you had your first kiss. He had set it up to be the perfect day.

You had finished eating and were carrying out your tray to the kitchen, when you noticed a tiny gift bag on the counter. You set the tray down and peaked at the bag “to my best girl, Buck”

You picked it up and carried it back to the room.

Somehow in the 5 minutes you were gone Bucky had gotten a huge bouquet of flowers into your room. It was a culmination of all the bouquets he had gotten for you on each of your dates.

You noticed the window was open and saw a glimpse of Sam, who must have delivered the flowers when you left.

‘Mr.Barnes you left this in the kitchen’ you handed him the bag, he smiled and handed it back to you.

‘The flowers are beautiful, I can’t believe you remember all of this’

You started to open the bag, you found dog tags.

“I know it’s nothing fancy but it’s a little part of me… if you want them, that you can keep forever even if I’m not here”

You pulled Bucky in for a kiss and then wrapped your arms around him ‘I love them Bucky, I love you’

“I love you Doll, are you ready for our day?”

You smiled at him and grabbed your jacket.

The next few hours were filled with reminders of why you loved Bucky. Small things that were reminiscent of your past time together. By the time you got home the last thing you expected was another gift bag on your bed, this one larger than the last.

‘Bucky, love this is to much’

He smiled and kissed you “For you, it’s not enough. I have one last thing planned, I had to save the best for last”

Before you could respond Bucky left, closing the door behind him. You had no clue what he had planned.

Opening the bag on your bed you found a card on top

Doll, I hope this fits. I’ll be honest and say I put aside my pride and asked Wanda and Natasha to come shopping with me so I could find the perfect dress for you. Natasha said this color would bring out your eyes and Wanda said you’d love the fit. I don’t know about all of that but I think you’ll look beautiful, you always do.

Forever yours, James

You looked at the dress and were amazed, it truly was gorgeous. Your eyes welled up with tears, today had been perfect. You put on the dress and did your hair.

You had just finished when you heard a knock on your door.

Opening it you found Bucky. He looked stunning, wearing the same suit he had on when you had met. “Wonderful weather we’re having” Bucky smiled at you, you held out your hand

‘Yes, but I always carry an umbrella’

Bucky took your hand and led you out to a waiting car. It was raining slightly, but not enough to bother you. You got in and Bucky started to drive.

Looking out the window you wondered where you were going, the scenery looked vaguely familiar. When the car pulled up to a club you remembered.

This is where you met him. The very first time, Bucky got out and held the door for you before taking your arm and leading you inside. You were surprised by how quiet it was, a club like this rarely fell silent.

You walked in and noticed a strange lighting. As you got further into the building you saw candles lit around the dance floor, rose petals were scattered around. A path that was cleared led you straight to the center.

You turned around to face Bucky, and found him on one knee.

“Y/N, I met you at this very place over a year ago, I knew as soon as I laid eyes on you that I was going to fall in love with you. And I did, I love you more than I’ve ever known. You make me whole, and I can’t imagine my life without you. You ignited a flame in me that keeps me going and I know, when we started we said we’d take it slow. But I know how I feel, so Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?” Bucky opened up a small box to reveal a ring. Tears streamed down your face ‘of course, yes yes I’ll marry you’ Bucky picked you up and kissed you. When he set you down a slow song started to play, it was older but you had heard Steve play it before. “May I have this dance?” Bucky held out his hand, you gladly accepted and began to sway with him

You looked at the ring on your finger and put your head on his shoulder as the music played.

‘Hey Buck?’

“Yeah Doll”

‘Happy Valentine’s Day’

Hi guys me again I jueanted to say thank you again for reading, and happy Valentine’s ~Love Alex

#marvel #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader fluff #sebastian stan x reader #james buchanan barnes #reader insert #hbc week of love

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popculturebuffet · 4 years

Text

The Jeffersons: Sorry, Wrong Meeting (Comission by WeirdKev27) (Black History Month)

Welcome on up! HAPPY BLACK HISTORY MONTH! Yup i’m going to spend a good chunk of the month celebrating the best and brightest in black characters in animation, amid valentine’s coverage in the first half and a few bits of the usual stuff throughout. But i’m still throughly dedicated to showing off some of the finest media about black struggles and starring black characters, and going through it the best I can as a white dumbass. If I slip up or misinterpret something, never be afraid to call me on it, but I feel I can still try my best to honor these amazing characters who’ve brought such joy to my life and these wonderful stories. So starting us off is a commission from Kev that’s been sitting in the queue for far too long. And it’s not due to lack of intrest: While before today I’d never seen an episode of the Jeffersons, I had seen the live performance of an episode done for that live with norman lear thing nbc did in 2019, and it was excellent and piqued my intrest. But with me never thinking to get the dvd’s, and not having Starz nor really wanting starz, there was no real easy way to stream it. But a few episodes were on DailyMotion, so I was fine with reviewing it for Kev and giving this series an honest try and the fact the episode dealt with white supremacy, at a time where we’d JUST gotten rid of a bigoted, white nationalist backing, piece of shit president, I was naturally all for it, I just never thought to clear space on my schedule and by the time I was scheduling things better, I purposfully saved it for this month as while the Klan isn’t as prominent, assholes like them sure are. And given the Captial Riots last month with sedionsits shitheads proudly waving the confederate flag around, I’d say this episode is even MORE relevant than ever.

But before we can dive into why this one is so good, yeah i’m not going to hide it this is a really fantastic episode of television, we have to talk about the series itself. The Jeffersons was created by Norman Lear, a progressive and prolific television writer and producer who is a legend in the business for damn good reason. He created All in the Family, which shattered norms and standards for the time, and would go on to create Sanford and Son, Maude and Good Times, all to massive sucess. However this show came about because the Black Panthers showed up one day at his office to raise a valid point: While he did have black characters in his tv shows they were mostly poor and barely scraping by, with his two black lead sitcoms dealing with characters in object poverty. And while this was still a worthy subject to tackle.. they were absolutely right there should be a counterbalance to that, to show the obvious truth black people CAN be successful. Norman agreed and set to work. Norman already had the perfect lead for that: George Jefferson, an opinnated dry-cleaner with several sucessful stores. George was, and still is, a fascenating character with lairs: being cranky and curmodgenly as you’d expect with some fairly average sitcom quirks: He loves money, often overspends on flashy stuff to revel in his sucess, snarks at his maid and likes to scheme as a sitcom character can. He’s also in the early seasons a bigot himself, not really fond of white people or interacial marraige, which naturally makes living next to an interacial couple and their daughter marrying his son thorns in his side. But as far as I can tell from looking on wikipedia he does soften with time and grow as a person and by this episode he’s fine putting up with both his neighbor Tom, said guy married to a black woman and his goofy british neighbor, if snarky as hell because hey, that’s who he is. I bring this up for reasons related to the climax, trust me.

So eventually the Jefferson's moved on up to that deluxe apartment in the sky, hell of a theme song, and got into their own adventures with the aforementioned supporting characters.. and so here we are. And after the cut we’ll take a look at just why this sitcom is awesome, why I desperately want to get some dvds for it at some point now or a starz trial, and how much the klan sucks.

We open at the Jefferson’s Deluxe Apartment in the Sky. where his wife Wheezy and aforementioned maid Florence are preparing to take a CPR class.. which were that possible I certainly would after this episode, as I feel Florence is right in stating it’s a skill everyone should have. She also remarks that George had every employee at his drycleaners take it, even if it was because he got an insurance writeoff. But hey, doing something that can help your workers and customers in an emergency even if i’ts just to save money is sitll better than MOST businesses these days so props to him. There’s also naturally some banter and it’s really damn funny. As with my Darkwing Duck reviews,, I won’t be going into it bit by bit, but it’s good stuff and holds up REALLY well. To me that’s the mark of a good sitcom, one that can show it’s age.. but still make you laugh, think or cry all the same. So yeah in less than a scene the show had won me over. So as the ladies depart for CPR class, George’s peace is soon interupted by Harry Bently, british person and wacky neighbor. Aka me if I were british and lived in the 70′s. He returns a tv guide, last weeks hence why he’s done with it, and ther’es some schtick and what not before Tom Willis runs in, upset because he’s been robbed. They took all his stuff, and while he’s thankfull his wife’s gone for the week so she didn’t have to be there for this, he’s obviously worried and suggests forming a building watch to prevent this, with Harry on board. George.. has no time for this nonsense, and after making a joke about Florence in curlers scaring them of, bredguringly agrees to attend if someone else starts it then slams the door on them once their out the door. At CPR, our heroines volunteer enthusastically and meet the cpr dummy. resuscannie.. I don’t know how to spell that and frankly I don’t wanna because she is FUCKING terrifying.

She looks like she’s going to come to life and strangle me. She looks like a hollowed out corpse doll a serial killer makes. She looks like something Charles lee ray would rnasfer into. She looks like Micheal Meyers grandmother. She looks like the corpse of Jason’s mom come back for revenge. She looks like sue sylvester transferred herself into an auton. Look I could go on, but the series does make jabs at the thing and most cpr dummies are objectively terrifying, so fair play to them. After some more gags, things.. take a turn. Part of what makes this episode so effective to me is this turn. It starts with, and even goes back to after this for a bit, some sitcom gags and cliches.. but it lulls you into thinking this will be an average episode... so when the instuctor asks two men to go next, an older man and his college age looking son refuse to participate.. and their reason is he refuses to touch anything tha’ts been touched by a ... well he uses a certain word and let’s just say you know what it is, I know what it it is and if I could’ve reached inside my computer and choked the life out of hte man, I fucking would’ve.

Yeah turns out these two are KKK, with the older asshole leading the local chapter and their about as reasonable or likeable as you’d expect with Wheezy BARELY holding Florence back from giving them a well deserved thrashing, and only doing so because it’d both sink to their level and because they’d just use it as more fuel for their racist bullshit. And that’s WHY this works so well: It seems excactly like a normal episode.. until it suddenly isn’t. Until suddenly things are a lot darker, a lot more tense, but the easing into it means it still feels like the same unvierse. To me the good “very special episodes”, are the ones that use this: that ease into the heavy topic before punching you in the face with it and tackle it with nuance and skill. A Diffrent World has a TON of episodes like this, and it’s why it’s one of my faviorite sitcoms: it tackles a lot of really heavy topics with a steady brush and while it can be heavy handed, sometimes heavy hands are necesary to carry a heavy topic. The racists showing up suddenly also fits because Racists hide in plain sight. You don’t know someone you know is prejudice or some stranger is till they reveal themselves. They could show up any time anywhere and you can’t be ready. And I cant possibly claim to know what that’s like, but I’m sad that in this nation of ours this shit has never, and probably will never go away. So it fits that our antagonist shows up out of nowhere, having until now perfectly blended in with the other suited white guys in the class. Naturally, the instructor orders them to fucking leave and naturally klan monster makes some big white suprimacist speil. And being a sitcom he runs into Tom, with Tom mistaking him for talking abotu the crime and White Supremacist mistaking Tom for a fellow racist. Tom decides to invite george.. and while it’s clumsily framed as a wacky sitcom misunderstanding.. it’s very clear things just got VERY dangerous.

Speaking of George he’s awoken from his nap by the ladies who are both still worried and while he goes into his usual digs on florence, and questions why she needs her bat... he instnatly sides with her and prepares to go kick some racist ass once he finds out what happened. It’s a nice shift, as it once again breaks the tranquil normalcy of this sitcom with the violence of racisim. And while there was no phsyical violence form the asshole.. to me racisim itself is still a form of violence. Thinking you are suprerior to another race just because your skin’s a diffrent color and wanting them gone or not to be near you is in itself violent to me. And while Wheezy again has good reason for holding George back, tihs is just what the fuckers want, Geroge is also right: right NOW it’s talk.. but how long before they start burning stuff on thier balcony or come for htem in the night? there’s.. no easy answer her, no easy solution.. just a man fearing for his life justifably whose probably been through this time, and time, and time again, dealt with his buisnesses being vandalized and his life being threatend and probably been beaten some too JUST for being a black business owner. So it’s understandable he’s fucking fed up and just wants them gone. Tom naturally invites him to the meeting., and harry agrees, botht hinking i’ts just a floor meeting and not a disguised KKK Rally.

So at the meeting, the KKK Fuck does his spiela nd tries to assure them that “what you’ve heard about us is wrong”. And again this si part of what makes the episode resonate: guys like this try to make themselves seem resonable. THat “Their not racist” their the right ones and your wrong for wanting equality. It’s why these movements gain traction, they tap into people’s inner ugliness and disastifaction with life and give them an easy target for it. It’s what the president did for four years, i’ts what his sycophants at fox news CONTINUE to do: try and present being a racist, homophobic, xenophobic peace of shit as a viable and stable option when all it makes you is a racist , a coward and a dinosaur who can’t accept change or things difffrent than you. When this guy eventually goes into a rant, as George showing up triggers it and Tom and Harry dont’ take his shit for as econd, with tom proudly mentioning his black wife, and both holding George back for the same reasons Wheezy did with Florence, he talks abotu them “taking our property and destroying our homes”.. and it all sounds EERILY like when Tucker Carlson went on about property damage during the black lives matter protests last year... and as a wise tucan in a suit once said, fuck you tucker. And as John didn’t say but I certainly will, I Hope you choke on your own spray tan you racist seditionist prick. My point is this sort of rhetoric, trying to frame black people as the enemy.. never fucking went away and is on cable news every night. It was in our white house for four long years. It won’t go away and probably never will and everyone of every race has to be on guard to find these pricks and make sure their message is drowned out with love. And that’s what makes this whole thing relevant: that these pricks hide in plain sight and mask their arugments with civlities.. but at the end of day are just hateful monsters who just want a scapegoat for their problems or even may just hate because it’s easy, or because they just wnat to and don’t need an excuse to be the worst human garbage imaginable.

It makes what happens next all the better: Asshole has a heart attack, HORAY, and no one knows CPR since the kid walked out on the class with his dad before they actually learned it. George relucntantly sighs.. and knows what he has to do. He goes and saves the fuckers life. And that, friends, is why I brought up George’s racist past and i’m glad I knew about it giong in: because it shows how far he’s come. From hating white people.. to saving the WORST of the WORST of white people. He regrets it of course, saying the guy should’ve died, and that he won’t be greatful and he’ll just keep on hating.. but his friends point out the truth: George was the bigger man. He saved the life of a man who hated him just for existing and who’d gladly have him lynched if he could and was trying to run him out of his rightful place in the building, because it was the right thing to do. Because that fucker sure as hell wouldn’t. Because despite being a monster.. it’s still a life.. and he can waste it however he pleases.. but he’ll now ALWAYS know a black man saved it. George may regret his decison.. in the dark, where no body would blame him for letting the fucker die or even know he could’ve saved him until he got home, and his wife would’ve barely blamed him, he still choose to save the worst of humanity proving depsite his curmodgnley nature, he’s some of the best of it. It dosen’t change the asshole, he leaves on a gurney telling his son “You should’ve let me die”. George is unsuprised and leaves with his friends. And I do like this: the racist dosen’t MAGICALLY change because he’s saved by a black man, he’s still a fucking monster. And that is what sets him apart from George: Whiel George was a bigot, he not only never went as far as this monster, but he changed. He learned to let go of his hate as it was eating him alive, and while he certailnly and rightfully won’t let go of his resintment for white people, he’s accepted he can’t hate ALL of them for what some did to him. This asshole has no such excuse and no such growth, he probably died being the same miserable piece of shit he was , resenting forever a black man saved him. And that’s hwo it should end.. youc an’t save everyone and you can’t change a person that dosen’t want to. George changed only because he wanted to and he realized he was wrong evne if he’s loath to admit it. This guy wont’ and never will becuse some racist pieces of shit just will never accept the truth that all people were created equal.

His son though clearly has, thanking George before he leaves, and later as the rest of the meeting, realizing what these people are and what they plan on, leave as the assholes right hand man tries to continue said son refuses to acknowlegde him rips up the poster and leaves. See the old man not changing worked.. but so too does this.. showing some simply dont’ know better and some CAN change.. but like George.. they have to WANT to change. Only you can change you. And hopefully it’s for hte better.

This episode was excellent as i’ve made clear, and I don’t have honestly much to add to it. It was a pleasure and black lives matter.

#the jeffersons #george jefferson #wheezy jefferson #black lives matter #black history month #norman lear

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katsukikitten · 5 years

Text

Once upon a time

A/N welcome to day three (almost day four. Nothing like procrastinating) of Kitten's valentines day event. Here is a request by anon for a cinderella au with those horrid red crocs. I tried blending seriousness with a touch of comedy (God knows I specialise in angst) hopefully it comes off well. Bone apple teeth.

The ball to find your prince was tonight. A long awaited night as you brush your hair staring into the vanity. Lips and cheeks painted with light pinks with a blush dress to match. The dress acting as a preview for what is to come, a mock wedding dress if you will. Elegantly and obnoxiously long train, paired with the classic princess ball gown that flairs at your waist.

Heart pounding in your chest you stand waiting in your glass slippers, hair braided and pinned half up and half down to frame your face as it trundles down to your delicate shoulders.

"And now for our lady of the night, Princess Y/N!" A quick gulp before you step through the opening doors, smiling brightly at the throngs of men who have attended all wearing masks of blinding colors in hopes to be seen.

To be remembered.

Your night is spent mostly whisked around in nauseating circles handed off from man to man. You go from two toned hair, to a blabbering bright blonde, passed off to a jaded eyed man before you're head is spinning.

The jade eyed man is, how can you put it nicely?

Well you can't he's boring. An utterly ball of nerves boring. His hands are slick with sweat and he can barely hold eye contact to save his life as he says sorry every step of the dance despite not making a single error.

"May I?" A smooth voice inturrpts the emerald eyes apologies. You drink in the handsome man in stunning deep red that makes his gem eyes pop. Finaly excited for the first time tonight.

"Y...you may." He stammers passing your hand to a calloused hard working hand. A feeling you are unused to as most of the other men's hands were smooth. His other hand finds the small of your back as he sweeps you into a pleasantly slow paced dance.

"Your name my dear?" The first you've asked for this whole night. He smiles a sharp toothed smile as his velvet voice caresses your before agitated nerves.

"Ejirou." A shiver runs down your spine as you fixate on this stunning broad shouldered man.

Another turn before you notice that he has swept the two of you onto one of the many balconies just off of the hall.

"Ah look at the moon over head Eijirou!" He hates to admit that he loves the sound of his name on your lips. He bites his own trying and failing to remind himself that he does not truly belong here.

But a night with a beautiful princess is all he ever wished for.

You brace yourself agaisnt the railing as you stare into the face of your favorite celestial body. All the while ruby eyes watch your dainty form.

"Isn't it beautiful?" You sigh melting as you swoon over your first love. Eijirou places his hand on the balcony around you, pressing his hip to yours.

"No where near as beautiful as you." He breaths, leaning down to kiss feather soft lips. Rough hand pulling a slender waist impossibly closer as he deepens the kiss.

Bells chime overhead causing him to gasp out.

"Its midnight." He sounds panicked as he tries to take a step back. Eyes frantically looking for the exit.

"Why yes," You blink confused, hand clutching his blood red lapel, "But the party is until sunrise."

"I've got to go. Now. I'm sorry." He says as he rushes away while you're right on his heels.

Although he is much faster and much more hardy than you. You stop to catch your breath as he rushes down the endless stairs in front of the castle.

"Eijirou how will I find you?" He stops short at your request turning ever so slightly, disappointment and sadness well in his eyes as he answers.

"You can't." Another chime rings out sending him into a full on sprint as one of his blood red dress shoes fall wayward on the long stair case. You rush to clutch onto the shoe another chime rings out and by some magic the deep crimson dress shoe distorts into something horrifyingly grotesque.

A birght red slipper with holes and a band that would sit atop the heel or the top of the foot depending if one wanted it to be in "sport" mode or not.

You scrunch your nose especially after seeing little charms of different shapes and sizes ranging anywhere from a fire truck to the classic cartoon meat bone.

"What the fuck?" You murmur to yourself as you look over the odd shoe, debating if it would be worth it to attempt to find the handsome man with terrible taste in footwear.

A flash of ruby red burns hot in your memory as you stand calling off the rest of the ball to summon your best scouts.

"We will go over the entire land to see who fits this shoe!"

True to your word you spend countless weeks that bleed into months exhausting all resources to find your prince charming.

Men across the nation line up outside of their homes in hopes of fitting the red shoe. Some men spy the shoe and turn inside, while others step out in a clearly immitated bright red holed filled slipper.

Still your search is fruitless as you begin to run out of both men and houses to check. You stand in front of your last house for the day as two men rush from the door as a window shutter is slammed shut overhead.

"Princess!" They sing song in unison, "We brothers are the owner of the shoe!"

Your eyes rove over a bright blonde male and a short purple haired boy whose eyes pop from their sockets as they stare at your form. Even as you're wearing pants.

"Hmmm, my prince to be had red hair." You state, "Men we are mistaken let us leave at once."

"W..wait your highness, you have not even tried to place it on our feet yet! At least give us that much." They beg as you pinch the bridge of your nose.

"Fine." With a snap of your fingers the horrific item is presented to you atop a velvet black pillow. You grab onto the item and place it to where a foot can be slipped in.

The blonde tries first, his toes poking out through some of the holes, popping out a fire truck charm as he attempts to shove his foot in.

Immediately you withdraw to present the shoe to the small boy. His foot barely fills the slipper causing a great sigh to leave your lips.

Tears threaten to spill over as you think that you may never find your one true love. You place the slipper back onto its pillow before you begin to climb the stairs to your carriage.

"Princess wait!" That velvet voice you had grown to love shouts as your frantically look for the source. He comes out in tattered clothes, soap suds clinging to his elbows as stains litter the cloth.

All the while the other two men are dressed in finary that could rival your own.

You look down to see he is wearing what must be the other slipper. As more of those ghastly charms twinkle in the dying light of the sun.

"Ah this is just our step brother. Please pay him no mind." The blonde says before elbowing him harshly, "Get back into the house you idiot!"

He clutches the scrub brush in his hands, ruby eyes glancing between you and his evil step brothers. He turns on his heel only for you to shout, fearing you may lose the man of your dreams again.

"No, he will be sized by the shoe. Should it fit he is mine to wed." The slipper is brought back to you once more, delicate hands wrap around the bright material as the red head presents his foot to you.

The God awful footwear fits and tears of joy stream down your face.

"E...Eijirou is it really you?" He nods shyly, embarrassed that he is in essentially a potato sack compared to what he wore the night he met you.

It was all with the help of an angry godfather who loomed in the courtyard the night of your ball.

"So you're just gonna let these assholes tell you you can't go?!" The Godfather had yelled, fingers popping with magic.

"Don't be a bitch." He bites out, turning a rotting carcass into a stunning white horse, "You're going and that's final."

Popping hands burning through Eijirou's tattered rags. Just a Phoenix something new rises from the ash. A beautifully tailored suit adorned with a bright red mask glimmering in the night like sparkling rubies.

"But you have until midnight to get the hell out of there." The GodFather snarls, "What are you waiting for a fucking invitation? Go kiss the damn girl! Just remember I said midnight and don't fuck this up."

He had left after that in an oversized explosion leaving nothing behind but the smell of sweet burning caramel.

Eijirou silently thanked the Godfather as he spun his princess around, cheeks burning from smiling so hard and feet sheathed in firetruck red crocs.

And they lived happily ever after.

#kirishima x reader #eijirou x reader #kirishima eijirou #eijiro x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #bnha eijiro kirishima #eijirou kirishima imagine #bnha eijirou #bnha ask #bnha cinderella au #bnha au #kitten valnetines day event!#ask kitten #bnha event

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crewhonk · 5 years

Text

Only Happy Accidents (six)

Summary: YN and Steve deal with YN’s second trimester hormones, YN goes wedding dress shopping, YN buys something for Steve, and Steve thanks her

Warnings: NSFW themes, emotional Girl Squad, Bucky is Tan France

Songs: “Fifteen”— Taylor Swift / “Flight 22” Kali Uchis / “Love Story”— Taylor Swift

Masterlist

____________________

March 11 / 18th Week

There were few things that were both the middle of something and also favourites. The middle of a dance routine, the middle of a season of construction, the middle of winter, middle school, being the middle child (YN wouldn’t know, she was an only child growing up) and so on so forth.

However, some middle things were great— the middle of a really good sandwich, the middle of a drunk snuggle pile, the middle of the bed.

The second trimester rocked YN’s world. The exhaustion, sore boobs, nausea were all ugly memories that both YN and Steve were over the moon to get rid of considering how gross and strong they all were. YN was now enjoying her pregnancy, having gained a few inches around her middle and enjoying the way Steve’s eyes lingered on her swollen (not tender!) boobs whenever she walked past him wearing a blouse for work. Every edge and corner on YN’s body had rounded out and it seemed as if this fat was why Steve was very keen on having both hands on her at all times. His kisses were longer and deeper and YN’s whole body ached whenever she crawled into his lap and kissed him breathless.

The part YN would need to learn to deal with? The lack of sex in her relationship while she was in fact, very horny. All the time.

YN decided one afternoon while she was showering for the second time that day (the basement was flooding, thanks increased blood flow) to initiate a plan to get Steve Rogers in bed with her. They hadn’t slept together since Halloween, and even if she weren’t pregnant, YN would very much love to ride that man into the sunset a month and a half into a real not-pregnant-induced relationship. So, she put to work, touching him absently on the couch during movie marathons, nipping his neck while hugging him and humming when she would suck in a breath. She would wear clothes the showed off her stomach and boobs and butt around the house— often skipping the pyjama pants for short maternity shorts under one of his shirts from the dryer. She could hear his appreciative sounds whenever he would wake up to find her in his clothes and making breakfast.

Steve loved how needy YN had become, as well— almost too much if he were being honest. He felt like a teenage boy again whenever he saw YN trapesing around the house in one of his sweaters— blood rushing from one head to another. He found that YN could get him harder than he had ever been in his life when she got bored of the movie and crawled into his lap, a sexy little smirk on her face as her hands cupped the sides of his neck and she kissed him for hours. His hands had to stop her more than once from wiggling on him because it almost hurt to have her so close but unable to get closer.

His greatest fear was hurting the baby— or even worse, the baby knowing what his mom and dad were doing. When he voiced this fear to Natasha one day when they were sparring, she lost all composure and roared with laughter as he tripped her. She had rolled onto her side and covered her face with her hands to hide the tears streaming down her face.

“What’s so funny?” Steve had grumbled and through giggles she replied.

“Weren’t you like, one of the smartest people in the army in 1940?” She breathed heavily.

“Yeah, I guess but what does that have to do with anything?”

“Steve, my favourite life partner. Even you, in all your physical enhancements has no chance of hurting the baby. YN’s body has all of the defences that the baby needs, especially your kid. I’m not talking about fucking her through the mattress, but you can have sex with your girlfriend.” She smiled, getting up and patting his shoulder.

She grabbed a towel and wiped her face, slicking the flyaway hairs from her ponytail back with sweat. “How far along is she?”

“Eighteen or nineteen weeks? I think she’s almost at nineteen.” He replied, taking a swig from his water bottle and her eyes widened.

“You do know her sex drive is probably through the roof right now, right?” She stated and he choked on his water.

“What?”

“Yeah, she’s in her second trimester, right? Then yeah— she’s horny as hell.” She shrugged and Steve shifted his weight, swallowing and thinking about his mother so his dick wouldn’t explode spontaneously.

“I should— I should go, probably.” He mumbled, and Natasha rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, you probably should. Can you remind YN that we have a dress-fitting tomorrow?” Natasha called after and Steve tripped over his feet when he remembered that he was, in fact, marrying the woman waiting for him at home.

________________________

He burst through the door, roses in hand (he had barely remembered that today was Valentines Day) and called out for YN.

“Ma?” He asked and the ache between his legs was almost enough tomato his knees shake. There were no lights on, yet, so he wandered through the house and down to her room where he nudged the door open to find her sprawled on the bed.

Unconscious.

He chuckled and set the flowers on her bedside table. He looked down at her and cooed, running the backs of his knuckles down her cheek and leaned over to kiss her soundly on the forehead.

“Stevie?” She mumbled sleepily and turned to him, eyes still closed. He only hummed and kissed her nose again.

“Get some sleep, Sweetheart.” He murmured and she moaned, rolling over and letting out a small grunt before she fell asleep once more.

Good thing she was so cute.

_________________________

March 12th, 19 weeks

There was something wrong. Something very horribly wrong, and YN woke up feeling something in her stomach. Something was wrong, and she couldn’t breathe and she wanted to move but an impossible weight rested on her chest. She struggled to breathe, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes as the feeling went away but came back once again stronger.

It was when it came back stronger than she was finally able to throw the blankets from her body and run from the room, hand over her stomach. She tore up the stairs to Steve’s room and didn’t bother to knock before bursting into the room and walking across it to the bed.

She shook his shoulder and he grumbled, swatting her hand weakly.

“Steve. Steve, wake up, please.” She half cried and his eyes opened and he rolled over to look up at her. The tears of fear in her eyes waking him up almost immediately.

“Wassit? Baby? Baby okay? You hurting, Ma?” His voice was thick and husky with sleep and she ignored the way that her core clenched at the low baritone of his voice. This was not the time for that.

“I don’t— there’s something wrong.” She whimpered and Steve sat up, running his arms over her shoulders and pressing the back of his hand to her forehead. She was a little clammy and she was running warm, but that aunt anything new— she had been running hot since she had gotten pregnant.

“Are you in pain?” He asked and she shook her head.

“No, it’s like— like flutters? But I can feel something and it’s not right.” She whimpered and took Steve’s hand, pressing it right under her navel. Steve and YN waited for the feeling to happen again and when it did, YN let out a cry.

“What— I don’t—“ She breathed heavily and Steve looked at her with wide eyes. Neither moved until the fluttering was over and Steve began crying tears of his own.

“What— why are you?” YN whimpered and Steve surged forward, pushing her to her back on his bed and kissed her. He peppered kisses across her face, and nose and neck through his giggles.

“You’re so cute.” He whispered, kissing her again and she shoved him off, glowering.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Rogers?” She snarled and jumped off the bed, only to be caught by Steve and pulled back on his lap. He tucked her hair behind her ear and kissed her chest bone, and nosed her collarbone.

“Put your hand on your stomach. Right where my hand is.” He murmured and she could have slapped him.

“I already feel it, Rogers. We need to go to Cho.” She moved to get off of him but he caught her again and grabbed her hand.

“Baby doll, just listen to me and wait.” He whispered and she stared into his eyes and waited until the feeling came back. When it did, YN let out a cry of dear and Steve shushed her with a soothing kiss.

“He moved, YN. That’s our son kicking.” He murmured and she sucked a lungful of air in.

“She’s moving? Already?” YN whispered and he nodded.

“Ms. Tyler said that we could expect the baby to move in another few weeks, but I do apparently have super sperm so—“ He shrugged and YN laughed, throwing her head back and then kissing him. Her tongue swiped his lip teasingly and he squeezed her hips happily. She pulled away before he could roll them over and wiped her face.

“God. Okay. I’m— I’m sorry for waking you up, I was just really scared.” She said, looking rather guilty.

“I’m your boyfriend. Fiancee, technically, but I’m your person. You come to me when you’re scared and I’ll protect you from the world, okay?” He whispered and she smiled softly, swiping her thumb over his bottom lip and chin softly before moving to climb off of him.

“I’ll go back to bed then. I’ll text Cho and tell her we’ll drop by when you drop me off for the fitting tomorrow, though.” She said, rubbing her stomach and smiling to herself softly. She stood and turned to walk before Steve gathered his courage and grabbed her hand, pulling her back slightly. She turned with a smile and a raised eyebrow.

“You okay, Hot Shot?” YN asked and he clenched his jaw nervously.

“I— you don’t have to go, you know. You can stay the night… here, with me.” He muttered and she felt her face heat up.

“Really?”

“Really.” He replied, and almost did a small victory dance when she nervously shifted her feet before crawling over him and pulling the blankets back, settling into his mattress and sighing.

“Your bed is much comfier than mine, you know.” She whispered and he laughed, pulling her so that her back was to him. He curled into her back and nosed at her neck, inhaling the scent of her shampoo and almost melting into the sheets. His strong arm wrapped around her middle and he rested his hand on her stomach, smiling to himself whenever he felt his son jump against his fingers. His slid his thigh between hers and she sighed, wiggling back into him and pulling his other arm to act as a pillow under her head.

“You don’t have to sleep in the other room, you know. We are dating-engaged-almost-parents.” He murmured and she giggled.

“How did we even get int his whole situation, huh?” She chuckled and he squeezed her lightly.

“We like each other and just so happened to forget to use protection.”

“Ah, yes. Halloween— the ultimate aphrodisiac.”

“It was the thigh highs, honestly.”

“Goodnight, Steven.”

“Night, Ma.”

_________________________

March 13th, Week 19

YN was warm. So, pleasantly warm and she never wanted to leave the cocoon she had found herself in. The pillows were soft, and the mattress was the perfect balance between hard and soft and the huge, muscly man pressed to her back made her feel like she could hide from the world for the rest of her life.

His hot breath washed over the back of her neck and she wiggled in closer to him, willing herself to stay in this moment for a few more hours.

Until she felt it.

Steve was fully pressed into her, his morning wood sandwiched snugly between his lower stomach and the small of YN’s back. When YN tried to wiggle her way out, Steve only let out a husky moan and pulled her closer.

“Stevie.” She tried, tapping his arm. He grunted and nuzzled into her hair, falling still once more. She stared out the window in front of her and sighed, trying to ignore the raging hormones that made her only think about the dick pressed against her and tried to roll away, only to be snatched right back by the still-sleeping Steve. He let out a moan and flexed his hips, rubbing himself against her and she squeaked, the heat between her legs making everything harder.

Especially the fact that his thigh was pressed right against her vagina.

His hips rut up again and his thigh pressed harder against her and she let out a small moan, shifting back against him and whimpering when he thrust again.

Fuck.

“Steve, baby, wake up.” She whispered, voice strained. She felt his lips press to the back of her neck before he pressed himself harder.

“I’ve been awake for a few minutes, now, Ma.” He husked and she moaned, hand circling back and cupping the back of his neck. He leaned up and nipped her neck, humping his hips again and growling when she bit her lip.

“Stevie—“ she whimpered and his hand drifted down, scratching her bare thigh and making her shiver.

“Shh, baby.” He hushed and she flexed her hips against this thigh, making him hum appreciatively. She glanced at the clock on the bedside table and groaned, scratching his scalp again.

“As much as I fucking love what you’re doing right now, we have to go and see Cho.” She whispered and he groaned, squeezing her tighter and biting her shoulder.

“We have an hour, and it was just the baby moving, he’s fine.” He grumbled and pulled her closer to him, making him groan when his dick rubbed against her.

“It takes ten minutes for us to get ready and forty minutes to get to the compound, not including traffic. Plus,” She started, turning around in the bed to face him. She had to swallow her resolve when she looked at him however, because his hair was messy and his cheeks were flushed and his pupils were blown out. “The things I wanna do to you is gonna take much more than an hour to do.” She murmured and his mouth popped open in shock.

“Yeah?” His voice cracked and she smirked, letting her hand drift down his side and trace the band of his briefs. He shuddered under her touch and she hummed.

“Mhmm. Plus, the boutique Nat’s taking us to is just down the road from a pretty expensive maternity store who has an upstairs specifically for lingerie.” She murmured, kissing him lightly and nipping his bottom lip. He moaned into her mouth and clutched her sides.

“Now I definitely need you.” He choked and she giggled, rolling on top of him and straddling his hips, subtly grinding on his length as she leaned down.

“Plus, you’d have to face Natasha’s wrath if I was late today.” She nipped the tip of his nose and got off of him, rolling off the bed and prancing to his door.

“What am I supposed to do with this, then!” He called after her and he could hear her laugh loudly. Steve ached as he watched her look back and wink at him as if she had done nothing wrong at all.

“I’m sure you could figure something out!”

______________________

The appointment was smooth— all was well. Baby was healthy and when Dr. Cho asked if they wanted to find out the sex of the baby both Steve and YN adamantly denied. Instead Cho, a smirk on her face, adjusted the ultrasound machine so they wouldn’t be able to make out any shapes or lack thereof and handed the pictures to a glowing YN and Steve.

“He looks like a little alien,” Steve mumbled, looking at the squished face fo the 3D picture. YN looked over at it as they walked down the hall to the common room and snorted. The baby looked rather piggish at the moment, but it was the most beautiful thing that she had ever seen.

“She has your nose,” YN mumbled and Steve sucked in a nervous breath and let it out shakily.

“He has your chin.” He whispered back and took the pictures YN was holding, slipping them in the inside pocket of his spring jacket and placing the same hand low not he small of her back. His constant, hovering presence was just a tasty promise of what YN knew would be taking place later that night.

“You’re late,” Natasha said from her perch in the corner of the couch and Steve snorted.

“Hardly— and it’s not our fault. Kid didn’t want to hide his junk from Cho.” Steve joked, laughing when YN socked him in the arm hard enough for him to flinch. Another thing from being knocked up by a super soldier— she got some of his powers as well.

“She was taking a little long to get comfortable is all.” YN glared, a smirk on her face as Steve pouted and rubbed his shoulder.

“All the same,” Natasha waved them off and looked up from the notebook in her hands. There was a find smile on her face as she listened to the interaction and it only grew when she saw just how both YN and Steve were looking at each other. “The rest of the girls are headed over to the bridal shop, we’re just waiting for James and then we’ll go.”

YN’s heart dropped to her stomach at the thought of Bucky being at her dress fittings. Sure, they had become less cold towards each other following their first interaction, but the constant desire to impress him and seek his approval set YN’s nerves on edge.

“Bucky’s coming?” YN asked, picking the dirt from her nails and looking nervously from Natasha to Steve. Natasha only smiled patiently and Steve kissed her temple.

“He has the second-best style out of the team, actually. Sam would be coming today too, but I think he’s in Thailand at the moment.” Natasha replied, walking over. She placed her hand on YN’s arm and squeezed comfortingly.

“He does like you, YN. We’ve talked about it— it’s just a matter of him opening up.” She whispered and YN let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Speak of the devil and he shall appear.” She smirked, looking over YN’s shoulder.

Bucky had entered and yeah, okay. The guy had style. His form-fitting black jeans hugged all the right spots and the grey t-shirt he was wearing was tucked in in the front and covered by the warmth of a black bomber jacket. It was simple, but he oozed confidence which made YN feel slightly more comforted. His hair was tied into a neat bun at the nape of his neck and two carefully controlled pieces framed his face.

Natasha wasted no time in peeling Steve away from YN’s side and pulling the pregnant woman over to her boyfriend.

It seemed some of Natasha’s words were true. Bucky was looking at her with a little more warmth than he previously had, and his body language was more open to her than it was even on New Years Eve.

“Hi. Thank you for coming today.” YN smiled politely and he returned the shy smile and nodded.

“Anything to help the party— I’m happy to do what I can for family.” He said, voice impossibly soft and YN coughed around the sudden lump in her throat. Steve walked towards his best friend, moving slow enough for Bucky to say no, but quick enough to show Bucky how much his warmth meant and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. Steve pat his hand against Bucky’s back in the way that men do, and even YN could hear the emotional whisper of ‘thank you’ uttered.

“Shall we find you a dress, Mrs. Rogers?” Natasha smirked and watched in delight as both YN and Steve whipped their heads to each other and flushed equal shades of deep red. Before either could jump the other, Natasha wrapped her arm through YN’s and pulled her from the room.

“We’ll return her later tonight, Steve!” Natasha beamed and Bucky rolled his eyes fondly at his girl.

“I’ll make sure she's in one piece, Steve.” He reassured and Steve pulled Bucky into a quick embrace once more.

“Thank you, Buck. You don’t know how much this means to us.” He murmured and Bucky shrugged.

“She’s growing on me.” He stated. “At least someone can get you to stop your impulse decisions— takes a hell of a person to do that. Maybe I should ask for pointers.” Steve scoffed, shooing Bucky towards the doors.

“Make sure my girl doesn’t drown in taffeta, please,” Steve asked and just as Bucky was about to turn around once more, Steve grabbed his arm with a coy smile on his face. “I’ll make sure Nat doesn’t burn down every boutique I drag her out in a few months in return.”

“Shut up, Punk.”

“Not a chance, Jerk.”

_________________________

The wedding boutique was something that reminded YN of heaven. Soft, white fabrics hung from racks that lined the walls and warm brown woods framed the tall ceiling. There was a sign welcoming the ‘Mrs. Rogers’ wedding party on a table which was full of champagne and orange juice and gourmet desserts. The worker was gorgeous and young and she welcomed all of YN and her party with a smile and a firm handshake.

Bucky and Natasha watched carefully as YN squealed and rushed to Michaela who was waiting already with YN’s mother who looked like she had already been crying.

“Mich!” YN squealed, rushing over and wrapping her arms tightly around her friend. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around— everything has been so freaking busy and—“ She was shushed by her friends stern look.

“Hey, we still text like we usually do and we still call once a week. It’s okay. You’re life is crazy and I’m still not going anywhere.” Michaela smiled and YN wrapped her arms around her, mumbling a quick thank you and turning to her mom.

YN’s mom was a short woman, stout but with an effortlessly kind and warm smile. She smiled and cupped YN’s face, eyes trailing over her face and down her body, eyes fixating on the bump. She smiled softly, and kissed YN’s cheek.

“I’m so happy for you, my girl.” She smiled and YN ducked her head, frowning.

“I have to apologize. I know I haven’t been around much since dad, and I should have been there for you more. I hope you can forgive me.” YN whispered and YN’s mom cooed at her daughter, a sad smile on her face.

“I was never mad at you, Baby. You’ll know soon enough that you forgive your kid the second they do something wrong.” YN’s mom gave her a soft smile and YN let out a choked sob as she fell to her moms shoulder, arms holding her close.

“I love you, mama.” She cried and YN’s mom shushed her, petting her hair and closing her eyes.

“I love you, Baby.”

Natasha, Bucky and Michaela had busied themselves with the snack table as YN and her mother reunited, and Bucky’s chest burned with the curiosity of the things he had just learned. Why had YN pulled away from her mom? What happened to her father?

YN sniffed and stood to her full height, wiping her face and turning around to her friends.

“Okay, let’s get a move on and start crying for good reasons. I made a promise to my fiancee which I very much intend to keep.” YN smiled and Micheala snorted, catching Natasha’s eyes who understood quickly what the promise may have held. “Can you guys pick some dresses for me?”

The team dispersed, finding themselves in corners of the room and sifting through dresses which melded into the other. YN rubbed her tummy as she wandered around, looking at fabrics and touching the ones that caught her eye. She pulled the ones with the most welcoming texture and handed them off to the clerk who was following her, with an eager smile.

After a particularly sharp kick from baby, YN grunted and looked down at her swollen tummy.

“Hey, Kid. Chill out, yeah? Mom has to pick out a pretty dress for your daddy and their wedding day. Then, we can go home and hang out, okay? I think I’ll be able to send a text to Dad and ask if he can get some of that really spicy chilli you like so much. Maybe the one with the seafood? You’d like that, wouldn’t you.” YN rambled, rubbing her tummy and humming with relief when baby started to calm down at the sound of moms voice. Bucky was on the other side of the rack, listening in and smiling softly to himself as she continued to ramble. She was talking about the weather now, and went on a tangent about showing baby off by wearing sundresses and overalls and rompers.

“You’re smiling like a crazy person, you know.” Natasha sidled up to him, a dress over her arm and nudging him.

“She’s growing on me. I think she’s been talking about the weather for five minutes.” He chuckled, running his fingers over a dress with a deep v-cut with stars patterned on it. He pulled it out and looked at the princess skirt and nodded to himself, pulling it and throwing it over his arm. He turned to look down at his tiny girlfriend and kissed her forehead. The rush of the idea of Natasha in white just for him almost made him dizzy and he grabbed her chin, kissing her soundly.

“What was that for?” Natasha smiled, breathless. He loved how he could get her like this— he was the only one besides Steve who got to see her for her vulnerable self and he was completely head over heels with that notion.

“Just because.” He shrugged, the flat box in his inside jacket pocket feeling hot and heavier than ever. He carried it everywhere with him, just waiting for the proper moment. She let herself blush and smirk, looking down as she turned away and walking to the change room with a slight barely-there skip in her step.

On the other side of the railing, YN finally turned back to the change room, letting the clerk in with her and undressing. She pulled don the first dress— a simple maternity mermaid dress. The stomach was stretchy, but formfitting and was more comfortable than YN could have imagined. It was rather plain, however, and YN found herself disenchanted with it.

The reactions o it was a solid 6/10— the hype of the first wedding dress main up five of those points. YN was sent back quickly under the guise fo ‘we can do better’.

The next few dresses were magical, and Michaela preened when it was her dress which garnered the first veil try on.

The dress was a simple, soft fabric floaty thing— it made YN look as if there was a constant, flattering breeze and it accented all the best parts of her. The sleeves were comfortable and the low back was gorgeous. The only problem that YN could find was the fact that she would have to wear a maternity bra to prevent her from leaking all over the dress.

“It was close though, babe.” YN smiled and winked.

Natasha’s dress was a short one— an a-line skirt that brushed to YN’s mid-calf and YN was almost fully enchanted with it. It was reminiscent of the classic 1940’s style and YN thought Steve would drop dead if he saw her in something like this.

“Maybe for the reception?” Her mother asked, wiping the corners fo her eyes.

“I don’t think I want to have to have a dress which isn’t good for both, you know?” YN asked, and everyone nodded. YN was slowly getting more tired, but also incredibly restless, thinking about Steve waiting for her at home. It had been a few hours since she had last seen her guy and YN wanted no more of it. Thankfully, there was one dress left— Bucky’s.

The dress was gorgeous. It was a layered, soft skirt— the dress looked like something out of a fairy tale or a Taylor Swift music video. The dress had a high waistline which could be adjusted to accommodate YN’s future eight-month bump she would have for their wedding in June. The top was beautiful— there were already maternity cups sewn into the fabric which allowed her to not have to worry about the bra situation or the deep v-line which only accentuated the curves of her boobs and the scooping back which showed off the perfect amount of skin (which Steve would love). The sleeves were transparent but long, and everything was easy to dance in and move around in. The selling point, however, was the subtle white pattern of stars under the top layer of fabric. It was a barely-there detail, but when YN looked in the mirror and saw all the details that worked so well together, she burst into tears.

She collected herself enough to be able to see, and walked out, the clerk holding the slight trail as she walked out into the main room.

The reaction was immediate— both Michaela and YN’s mom started crying immediately, and Natasha covered her mouth, a smile stretching over her face as she looked at her best friends fiancee stare at herself in the mirror. Bucky, however, remained without reaction. This was his dress, and this was his best friends soulmate and this was everything he had wanted for Steve since kindergarten. His body was numb and his hands were on fire and his heart was beating rapidly in his chest.

“I think this is a good veil one, I think.” The clerk smiled, grabbing one and bringing it over to YN. Before the worker could pin it to YN’s hair, Bucky shot up.

“May I?” He murmured, and the clerk nodded and handed it to him, backing off immediately— he couldn’t even care if it was for fear because this was such a huge moment. He took the clip and slid it into YN’s hair, fluffing it out and peeking over her shoulder to look at her in the mirror.

Perfect. He walked around the podium she stood on, coming to face her and looked up at her. She looked down at him with tears in her eyes and a smile on her face. She wrung her hands nervously until Bucky took them in his own.

“YN YLN.” He started, voice low. “I am happy that you’re marrying my best friend. I’m sorry I’ve been less than kind to you, but seeing you together, and seeing how much you love this baby and how much you fit in with everyone is really, really making you grow on me. I’m so happy I’m going to be able to call you my sister-in-law soon.” He smiled and YN, without thinking, pulled him into a tight hug.

“Thank you,” She sobbed softly, and she could vaguely hear everyone behind them reacting the same— even Natasha had let out a loud gasp. “You don’t understand how much this means to me, James.”

Bucky returned her hug slowly and kissed her temple briefly.

“Welcome to the family, kid.” He smiled, and she wiped her eyes, turning around tot he wedding party, still holding onto Bucky’s hand and smiling.

“I think I’ve found my dress.” She smiled, squeezing Bucky’s hand and laughing as everyone shot from their seats and crowded around her, showering her with hugs and kisses and happy.

_______________________________

TAG LIST CLOSED: yesfanficsaremylife / notyourtypicalrose / laurxn-robinson / disaster-rose / lille-kattunge / wwecrazed2010 / vxidnik / chewingoffmyfoot / vitamingrant / captainamericasbeard / chrisgalore / songforhema / mmyepic / multifandommandy / tommyhoe / lostdarksoul6 / crist1216 / taeeemin / jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory / feelmyroarrrr / teller258316 / mrsdeanwinchester19 / qrangr / mariswritingforfun / nerdypinupcrystal / kittycatlover18 laucontrerasv / printedpeterparker / @dumblani / @captainomad

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers smut #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers au #steve rogers angst #steve rogers soulmate #steve rogers series #Steve Rogers smut #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fanfiction #Steve Rogers fic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #Dad!Steve #dad!steve rogers

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crociincovid · 4 years

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I know him, February's thrush, And loud at eve he valentines On sprays that paw the naked bush Where soon will sprout the thorns and bines. Now ere the foreign singer thrills Our vale his plain-song pipe he pours, A herald of the million bills; And heed him not, the loss is yours. My study, flanked with ivied fir And budded beech with dry leaves curled, Perched over yew and juniper, He neighbours, piping to his world:- The wooded pathways dank on brown, The branches on grey cloud a web, The long green roller of the down, An image of the deluge-ebb:- And farther, they may hear along The stream beneath the poplar row. By fits, like welling rocks, the song Spouts of a blushful Spring in flow. But most he loves to front the vale When waves of warm South-western rains Have left our heavens clear in pale, With faintest beck of moist red veins: Vermilion wings, by distance held To pause aflight while fleeting swift: And high aloft the pearl inshelled Her lucid glow in glow will lift; A little south of coloured sky; Directing, gravely amorous, The human of a tender eye Through pure celestial on us: Remote, not alien; still, not cold; Unraying yet, more pearl than star; She seems a while the vale to hold In trance, and homelier makes the far. Then Earth her sweet unscented breathes, An orb of lustre quits the height; And like blue iris-flags, in wreaths The sky takes darkness, long ere quite. His Island voice then shall you hear, Nor ever after separate From such a twilight of the year Advancing to the vernal gate. He sings me, out of Winter's throat, The young time with the life ahead; And my young time his leaping note Recalls to spirit-mirth from dead. Imbedded in a land of greed, Of mammon-quakings dire as Earth's, My care was but to soothe my need; At peace among the littleworths. To light and song my yearning aimed; To that deep breast of song and light Which men have barrenest proclaimed; As 'tis to senses pricked with fright. So mine are these new fruitings rich The simple to the common brings; I keep the youth of souls who pitch Their joy in this old heart of things: Who feel the Coming young as aye, Thrice hopeful on the ground we plough; Alive for life, awake to die; One voice to cheer the seedling Now. Full lasting is the song, though he, The singer, passes: lasting too, For souls not lent in usury, The rapture of the forward view. With that I bear my senses fraught Till what I am fast shoreward drives. They are the vessel of the Thought. The vessel splits, the Thought survives. Nought else are we when sailing brave, Save husks to raise and bid it burn. Glimpse of its livingness will wave A light the senses can discern Across the river of the death, Their close. Meanwhile, O twilight bird Of promise! bird of happy breath! I hear, I would the City heard. The City of the smoky fray; A prodded ox, it drags and moans: Its Morrow no man's child; its Day A vulture's morsel beaked to bones. It strives without a mark for strife; It feasts beside a famished host: The loose restraint of wanton life, That threatened penance in the ghost! Yet there our battle urges; there Spring heroes many: issuing thence, Names that should leave no vacant air For fresh delight in confidence. Life was to them the bag of grain, And Death the weedy harrow's tooth. Those warriors of the sighting brain Give worn Humanity new youth. Our song and star are they to lead The tidal multitude and blind From bestial to the higher breed By fighting souls of love divined, They scorned the ventral dream of peace, Unknown in nature. This they knew: That life begets with fair increase Beyond the flesh, if life be true. Just reason based on valiant blood, The instinct bred afield would match To pipe thereof a swelling flood, Were men of Earth made wise in watch. Though now the numbers count as drops An urn might bear, they father Time. She shapes anew her dusty crops; Her quick in their own likeness climb. Of their own force do they create; They climb to light, in her their root. Your brutish cry at muffled fate She smites with pangs of worse than brute. She, judged of shrinking nerves, appears A Mother whom no cry can melt; But read her past desires and fears, The letters on her breast are spelt. A slayer, yea, as when she pressed Her savage to the slaughter-heaps, To sacrifice she prompts her best: She reaps them as the sower reaps. But read her thought to speed the race, And stars rush forth of blackest night: You chill not at a cold embrace To come, nor dread a dubious might. Her double visage, double voice, In oneness rise to quench the doubt. This breath, her gift, has only choice Of service, breathe we in or out. Since Pain and Pleasure on each hand Led our wild steps from slimy rock To yonder sweeps of gardenland, We breathe but to be sword or block. The sighting brain her good decree Accepts; obeys those guides, in faith, By reason hourly fed, that she, To some the clod, to some the wraith, Is more, no mask; a flame, a stream. Flame, stream, are we, in mid career From torrent source, delirious dream, To heaven-reflecting currents clear. And why the sons of Strength have been Her cherished offspring ever; how The Spirit served by her is seen Through Law; perusing love will show. Love born of knowledge, love that gains Vitality as Earth it mates, The meaning of the Pleasures, Pains, The Life, the Death, illuminates. For love we Earth, then serve we all; Her mystic secret then is ours: We fall, or view our treasures fall, Unclouded, as beholds her flowers Earth, from a night of frosty wreck, Enrobed in morning's mounted fire, When lowly, with a broken neck, The crocus lays her cheek to mire.

-- The Thrush in February, by George Meredith

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melissatreglia · 5 years

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Did You Miss Me?: Darkiplier in 2018

For the most part, 2018 was a quiet year. In contrast with 2017, where we were gratified to see Dark's monochromatic visage throughout the year, 2018 carried playful hints and teasing of the elusive entity's presence but no confirmation. There were thumbnails and quick flashes that indicated He was continuing to pull strings, ensuring that His presence was felt but His face never really seen.

Throughout 2017, He'd show up during what us mere mortals consider major holidays or important events. Valentine's Day. Easter. Even Cinco de Mayo got a nod. And of course, the infamous Friday the 13th late in the year.

But 2018? He apparently decided to stay home in the void during our days of revelry, with the possible (though not confirmed) exception of the decidedly strange Fall in Love with Markiplier video for Valentine's Day. And for the TWO Friday the 13ths in 2018? He was a no-show. In 2017, He'd returned to shake things up in our safe little lives... and in 2018, He left us wanting more, like the skilled manipulative seducer He is.

Getting Over It, Part 8 included a thumbnail with Mark's dour expression and a suspiciously familiar colour scheme. The thumbnail for WATCH OUT!! had Mark reaching for us in a state of panic (which belied the contents of the video itself).

Try Not to Smile Challenge #3, while the smile-free serial killer laugh is creepy, it's not a Darkiplier moment. Though, him joking near the end of the video that people who didn’t smile at some point during the video are "soulless demons" does seem to be a Darkiplier reference of some kind (or maybe a Devilplier reference, since the Cuphead song was released just two months later)?

In Madison, when his game character watches a television that glitches and fades to static, Mark fearfully squeaks, "Darkiplier, is that You?!" While in the description for End My Suffering, just ten days later, Mark wailed, "What malevolent being did I piss off to be cursed like this!"

Brother Wake Up promised "I’ll try to help in whatever way I can but you have to wake up!" Which, while it fit perfectly with the title of the game, the description also fit pretty damn well into the channel lore too. And Umfend's description was likewise ominous: "You shouldn't have forgotten about me... I'll make you remember..."

Meanwhile, the title for the video of Welcome The The Game 2.0 doubles as a callback to an earlier Darkiplier moment: "Don't Play This Game". Horns of Fear did it one better, with the thumbnail featuring many eyes staring out at the viewer (again with an all-too-familiar colour scheme), while the title warned us "DON'T LOOK AWAY..."

In the Warframe playthrough late in the year, Mark's camera briefly freezes. But in 3 Scary Games #9, his camera freezes repeatedly before glitching back to normal, and he implies that "there's something else" messing with the camera. In 5 Nostalgic Games, when Mark gives the definition of ubiquitous and bares his teeth while saying "We're learning today!", the video suddenly glitches.

The thumbnail for Markiplier has fled the country had Mark lunging at the camera, his face completely darkened by shadow. And the thumbnail for 3.75 Scary Games blatantly toyed with the fandom with text shouting "DARKIPLIER?"

And the fanbaiting didn't stop there. More thumbnails that hinted at Dark included a hand bathed in blue light reaching out to the viewer for the fittingly titled The Devil Haunts Me, and a cartoon of Mark cowering away from Dark's furious glare for You're Perfect.

Markiplier's Tour: The Movie featured the improv teacher stating that Markiplier wasn't at the shows. "I don't know who that guy was, but it wasn't him." Even the Markiplier Animated short I've Got Boobs?! features a brief scene of a shadowy Darkiplier rising from a well and whispering something unintelligible.

For the most part however, the teasing came directly from out of Mark’s mouth.

In 3 Scary Games #5, Mark jokes that a ghost (clad in the classic white sheet and glitching somewhat) is Darkiplier. 3 Scary Games #13, the first (jokey) game called "Death Trips" features RGB text and Mark narrating in an echoing voice. In Midnight Shift, a game where Mark is memorably being chased by mannequins, he jokes that an RGB poster on a wall is "expricitly [sic] Darkiplier". In SCP Containment Breach #57, Mark jokes when he sees the intro screen of a pretty lady in 3D with an open third eye, "Look at this Darkiplier ass thing... it's like Celine, straight out of [Who Killed Markiplier?]".

In 3 FNAF Fan Games, he even chortles that the game has “Darkiplier letters.” In Devil Daggers, he scoffs, “A high-pitched ringing in the darkness. That’s always good.”

[Image captured by me, on June 3, 2018.]

Just before midsummer, I received a pleasant surprise. In Imscared: Steam Edition, Mark says "I gotta go get back into the Shadow Realm, the Upside Down." Which, personally, made me very happy at the time. Since I first became active on Tumblr in July 2017, I've been referring to Dark's void dimension as the Shadow Realm, while Mark has referred to it in the past as the Upside Down, making the link fairly clear in this statement. (Somehow, whether by happy accident or serendipity, my terminology and its proper context made its way to Mark. As a fan, I can't describe how pleased that made me, to know he might have actually seen something I’ve made.)

(But enough about me. I’m just an obsessive Darkiplier fangirl. So let’s get back to cataloging all the hinty goodness!)

By this point, you’re probably wondering, “Okay, so all those hints are decent. But where the hell is Dark in all of this?!” But that’s the point, my friends: He was there the whole time. In brief flashes of imagery, in hints and innuendo. Unseen, but his presence clearly felt as our expectations were played with by our channel host.

We expected a wild ride at the beginning, when Mark made two brief livestreams on January 5th, wandering through the theatre he was slated to play for the You’re Welcome Tour.

The first of the two, “What’s Going In?!”, he showed us the back area of the Paramount Theatre, using only improvised narration and acting to build an atmosphere of dread. He claimed the theatre was haunted, and that he could smell “the scent of death”, ultimately vowing to protect those who would be visiting the theatre to see him that night. He also declares the EXIT a trap, before being pursued by an unseen entity.

The drama continued with “...” (a title that is impossible to find using Youtube’s search options), that begins with an eerie quiet. Tyler eventually finds Mark’s dropped phone. He asks the viewers where Mark is, before going on a search. He’s eventually attacked from behind and the stream cuts off, leaving those who weren’t at the show that night to wonder how the matter resolved.

In Simulacra, there's a brief flash of Mark in his Big Mood outfit with text saying "WAKE UP". When the simulacra changes the colour of the cellphone's display and begins to speak in a calm, creepy voice, Mark reflexively responds, "Darkiplier?" and sounding unnerved at the mention of "behind your black mirrors", then being stunned as the screen appears to crack.

At the end of Simulacra, he gives an uncharacteristically downbeat speech, declaring that "We're all just digital copies of ourselves, idealized in a digital form. And maybe that's the way that life is just supposed to be. Maybe we should all just roll over and accept it, because there's nothing that we can do to change our fates, after all. And who's to say that it's not better for us just to wear the masks that are our digital personas, and live our lives as those? Maybe that is for the best."

The How To Make Slime video goes from harmlessly silly and takes a twist for the stabby. Mark declares "In order to appease the Dark Gods..." then he instructs the viewer to slice their palm and "whisper the words of power." The words in question? "They shall rise. They shall consume. All will be lost when they rise from the darkness of the ocean. Madness opens up to everything." When the making of the slime is concluded, he adds that "We all get to enjoy three years of peace before the Dark Gods consume us all."

I have no idea what that means, but I’m pretty sure it may involve Cthulhu chomping on my kidneys. (Then again, Darkiplier is a Lovecraftian monstrosity Himself. So, if it’s Him who’s one of the Dark Gods? He can have a kidney from me if He’s really that hungry. Kidneys are a redundant system anyway, so you really only need one.)

April Fool’s Day brought us the gag gift of The Official Markiplier Rock, with a suspiciously deep voice informing us that the rock is available in white. Additionally, the video warned to alert the SCP Foundation if the rock appears to start talking! (What? My rock has been talking to me since I got it, and there’s nothing wrong with me!)

Baldi’s Basics: Secret Ending featured an explanation about attaining the secret ending, with Mark’s otherwise normal voice echoing slightly with subtle white noise effects. (Hmmm...)

In December, for the charity livestream and archived in a video called Santa Spills The Tea, a Santa Claus that sounded suspiciously like Wilford Warfstache declared that Dark, the master manipulator and Big Bad of Mark’s channel, was a “sweetheart! He shouts a lot, but he’s just a big ol’ pussy. He can’t even possibly… he didn’t hurt anybody! He didn’t kill one person! If there’s anybody who’s on my naughty li— uh, on my list of people who’ve been bad, he’s the only one not on it.” (And mind you, in 2017′s Markiplier TV, Wilford sang a little ditty about how he killed Santa Claus and the kids wouldn’t be getting any presents that year. And Dark still convinced us to shoot someone in A Date With Markiplier, while apparently feigning regret. But heck, use your own judgement.)

Mark also dropped one heck of a hint of things to come in, of all places, Markiplier Tries Korean Beauty Products. There, the descriptive intro to the following year’s DAMIEN animated feature can be heard at one point. “Snow blankets the field, a pristine meadow of untouched white. No animals call. No birds cry. Only the steady rustling of wind through dead trees accented by the impact of his axe. A crack-like thunder rings out as the ancient pine finally succumbs to his murderous assault. The old giant crashes into the ground. Dami-”

Wilford Motherloving Warfstache was, of course, focused on the mustachioed entity. But there were elements to the short film that felt like Darkiplier was watching along with us. Particularly the VHS-style glitch at the end of the film.

Of course, there were only three videos that year that potentially contained Darkiplier himself.

One candidate is Fall in Love with Markiplier. Yes, the name on the title is Mark’s... but is it really him? The entirety of the film is a fourteen minute staring contest with Mark, as he lovingly (and somehow also creepily) gazes at the viewer in different settings -- by the ocean, at a dog park, and in a bubble bath. The only spoken words are in the intro, over the strains of the music from A Date with Markiplier: “It’s scientifically proven that you can fall in love with someone simply by maintaining eye-contact for an extended period of time. So now, you can fall in love with Markiplier all over again in these three locations. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

The second candidate is World’s 5th Quietest Let’s Play, released just 5 days prior to the Let’s Have a Romantic Staring Contest video. Unlike the previously mentioned video, there’s more going on this time around. The game to be played quietly this time around is Bennett Foddy’s infamous rage-inducing creation “Getting Over It”.

He threatens the developer with the words, “You will see the inside of your entrails, when I drag them out of your abdomen and show them to you.” (Ah, how romantic.) He goes even further than that, saying soon after, “This is a representation of My sins... You will be purged in the fires of absolution, along with all of your ilk. I will burn the heretics that you are harbouring inside of your soul... I will destroy you.” (Now there’s the smite-happy Hellgod we all love!)

But He doesn’t stop there, snarling under His breath, “You will burn in the fires of My own hell! And I will choose your pain to last eternity!” However, He is ultimately defeated by the game, departing our company with “Alas, I leave you now, to slumber amongst the ancients.” (Aww, poor guy needs a hug. And I know just who’s ready to snuggle with Him...)

But the last of the video to potentially contain Darkiplier is... the four-hour long play through of Hearts & Heroes. Is it canon Dark? No, probably not. It’s a fan game, though the words of dialogue are acted out by Mark himself. But rather than simply recounting key phrases for you, here’s the Boss Battle between Mark’s team and Dark, edited by the lovely icedpinkpeebles (Mark’s goofy character names and all!):

youtube

So, what does all of this ultimately mean? Why did Darkiplier fade into the background in 2018? And, most importantly, what is He up to now?

The truth is I don’t know any more than you do. I can only guess.

But I can tell you this: We don’t know Darkiplier as well as we all think we do. Many of us (including me) fully expected Dark to raise hell following the events of the jokey Darkiplier vs Antisepticeye video in 2017 (because He did mention how He hates being mocked!). And while we did get more Dark at the end of that year, it was in the form of an origin story.

Whatever Dark’s planning, we’re not going to see it coming. Because He’s playing a long game. And when you’re immortal like He is, you have all the time in the world to get what you want. Be it for love or revenge, Darkiplier remains a force to be reckoned with.

But here we are, in the eye of the storm. Only time will tell before the final wrath of the hurricane makes landfall.

#markiplier #darkiplier #markiplier fandom #darkiplier fandom #iplier egos #dark egos #2018 recap #vid: simulacra #vid: how to make slime #vid: santa spills the tea #vid: fall in love with markiplier #vid: world's 5th quietest let's play #hearts and heroes

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granvarones · 5 years

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The past month has been one of redemption, affirmation and celebration for Omaha, Nebraska’s own Dominique Morgan.

February 16th, 11 years ago to the date that Dominique walked out of the Tecumseh State Correctional Institution where they spent 18 dehumanizing months in solitary confinement, Dominique was cutting the ribbon at the opening of the Lydon House. A program of Black and Pink, the largest prison abolitionist organization serving LGBTQ+ people and people living with HIV/AIDS who currently and formerly incarcerated, the Lydon House is the first of it’s kind providing housing for LGBTQ+ people who are formerly incarcerated in the United States. Dominique, who serves as Black and Pink’s Director says, “This is about providing people who are system impacted and who are experiencing re-entry with a love, support and affirmation that allows them to move past surviving and into thriving.”

Dominique knows first hand about that journey.

“When I walked out of the Nebraska Department of Corrections, I had nothing but a bag of cassettes of songs that I wrote as survival tactic to save my mind and spirit.” It is this kind of testimony that has made Dominique one of the nation’s most renowned social justice activists. Chyle, Dominique even has their own TedTalk. Legend, I tell you, LEGEND! But now with the recent release of their new single, Domonique is ready to make R&B just a little bit more queer.

Two days before the historic Lydon House ribbon cutting, Dominique released their new single, “Wrong Time.” The acoustic guitar driven soul ballad is a beautiful melodic throwback to the 90s. I chatted with Dominique about their new single and all things music.

youtube

Gran Varones: Where did you grow up and what was that like?

Dominique: I’m born and raised in Omaha Nebraska. Small town vibes with a few billionaires. I love my city. I honestly can’t imagine living anywhere else. The shirt commute times definitely offset the white supremacy.

GV: What do you hope people take away from your music?

Dominique: I want folks to know they aren’t alone. You’re not the only person who loved someone who didn’t love you back. You’re not the first person to look a fool for someone. You aren’t the first.

I guess that comes down to solidarity. GV: As we just welcomed a new decade, where do you see or envision your music going this year?

Dominique: Early on I found myself doing what everyone told me I should do. My songs, packaging and even collaborations. Now I’m funding my own projects, started my own label and I’m taking control.

I want to hold tight to R&B as a craft. Harmonies, lyrics and key changes. I’m blessed to do work that takes me aces so the country and I haven’t maximized that access for my music as of yet so that is a must.

I just want to fall in love with making music again. I’m definitely feeling like I’m on the right path.

GV: When did you realize you were interested in making music?

Dominique: I had a Teddy Ruxpin when I was 7 and I would play my Rhythm National tape in these over and over. I’d start redoing Janet’s words or harmonize. It was a wrap from there!

GV: How has pop culture/some of your fave artists shaped you as an artist?

Dominique: The art of singing audaciously is all Whitney. The hunger for harmonies that make you listen to a song 6 times over to understand what is happening- Brandy. Writing a song that fits you like a glove – Mariah. I literally pull from these women every day. You can hear it in everything I do.

GV: Whew, the taste is iconic as you are! Who are some of your fave artists?

Dominique: Outside of the ladies listed above – I love SWV, Deborah Cox and The Clark Sisters. Fantasia feeds my soul without question. Throw in some Faith Evans and I’m good to go baby!

GV: Were there black queer artists who inspired you?

Dominique: Honestly the most influential Black Queer artist in my life has been DDM. I remember googling “Gay” musicians back in 2011 and finding his magazine covers and being gagged that someone who I connected to on so many levels was killing it like that. I was blessed to meet him and now call him a friend. I still look at his moves and get inspired.

GV: What artists inspired you as a queer person

Dominique: This may be redundant but Whitney was it. She had me in drag before I knew what drag was! I had turned the beads that hung over the door jam (80’s baby reference) to my curtain very I Have Nothing Vibes. People don’t respect the how theatrical Whitney was. Legendary. Period.

GV: What inspired this song? Is this something you experience first hand?

Dominique: If you listen to my music you can know when I was in love and when I wanted to cut my partners tires. I’ve realized since my divorce that my own toxic behaviors positioned me to find/adopt/try to raise men who weren’t ready for me. And I realized that I’m not a bad person – they aren’t a bad person – we just found each other at the wrong time.

This was initially a solo (also that will be on the full album) and then I thought about Black Queer love and the absence of our truth in music. E Rawq agreed to come in and we played with the record and we competed it in about 5 hours.

This song allows us to take accountability while also giving each other grace in love. It felt very appropriate to have this as the first single and drop it on Valentine’s Day.

You can download and stream Dominique Morgan’s new single “Wrong Time” on music platforms. You can also follow Dominique on Instagram and Twitter.

#granvarones #queer #gay #bisexual #trans #gendernonbinary #music #latinx #afrolatinx #hiv #aids #queer artist

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arthurs-wife · 6 years

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Visiting Hours

Anonymous said to arthurs-wife:

Hellooo I was wondering when you had the time if you could do a fic for Arthur and the reader where Arthur is a vampire that doesn’t treat humans kindly until he meets the human reader. And Maybe some vampire smut? (Only if you’re comfortable!) Thank you! ☺️

A/N: *rises from my coffin* did somEONE SAY VAMPIRE SMUT?? But for real, here’s 2.2k words of Arthur being a vampire and you getting plowed in some rich white lady’s house. The dream, right?

“You’ll remember to dispose of the bodies this time, Arthur?”

Arthur rolled his eyes and fastened his coat tight. He had opted for all black this evening, as was his wont, turning back towards their Grand Elder, Dutch Van der Linde. At the moment, Dutch was drinking was Arthur assumed was blood from an all gold chalice, as was his wont. Flashy bastard.

“If you’re talking about that little mix-up in Valentine, it was only-”

Dutch held up a hand and set his drink down, standing up to put an arm around Arthur’s shoulder.

“My boy,” he chuckled, “you know I didn’t mean anything by it. That man was a fool and most certainly deserved to die. We just don’t want to attract any unnecessary attention to ourselves, not when we just settled in this…” he looked around at the swamp, “...charming bayou.”

“Yeah well I can’t wait until we depart this charmer,” Arthur grumbled and moved to his horse.

“Would you rather be back in the 1670s?” Dutch put his hands on his hips, “pray, do you remember what it was like to live without guns?”

“That was rough,” Arthur agreed, unhitching his horse and turning, “you want anything while I’m out?”

“No I have everything I need here,” Dutch said, becoming distracted by a young vampire they had turned several weeks ago. She passed him, grabbing his arm and leading him off.

Arthur sped off towards Saint Denis, hungrier than he had been in days. The last man he’d fed from wasn’t disposed of properly and made them abandon their hideout near Valentine, one they’d stayed at for months. Dutch seemed to like it here near Saint Denis, much to Arthur’s dismay. He had never been one for humidity.

Tonight he had been invited to some fancy party at some fancy rich white lady’s house, he couldn’t be bothered to care. Charles had told him the house was full of bonds and possibly gold bars, so here he was decked out in his finest formal wear, hitching his horse a safe distance away from the house.

He turned quickly to the alley and saw flashes of yellow dart into him.

“Charles,” he greeted, and the yellow dots disappeared, a man emerged from the shadows.

Charles wiped a stream of blood from his mouth and his fangs retracted.

“You ready?” he asked.

“Anything left on that guy?” Arthur nodded.

“Sorry,” Charles shrugged, “he was my first kill in three days.”

Arthur growled.

“Let’s get this thing over with,” he said, striding to the house steps.

Th house was large, even by Saint Denis standards, and was packed full of the city’s finest socialites. They climbed up the steps and a butler greeted them at the door.

“May I take your coats, sirs?”

Arthur and Charles passed them over and stood for a moment. This was uncomfortable. The butler looked at them strangely.

“Are you going to go in, sirs?”

“Can we?”

“Of course, please do go in.”

They both sighed and crossed the threshold, separating once they got to the back porch. The garden was filled with people and a light quartet song swayed on the wind around them. Waiters mingled around offering trays of food, drink. People guffawed and whispered behind fans. Never really his cup of tea, these parties.

Never really your cup of tea, these parties.

Your dress was too tight, your make up was too caked on, your heels were fucking murder. At least you had your fan and were putting it to good use. It must be a hundred degrees, and it was dusk! You realize the gentlemen in front of you had been talking to you.

“Excuse me, what did you say?” you asked as politely as you could.

“I asked,” the man huffed, “if you had any opinion on the man that was hung in the square today.”

“Dreadful business,” you nodded solemnly, fanning harder, “the whole deal.”

He pursed his lips at you and wandered off. Thank god. You grabbed the nearest drink from a tray and downed it in one go. You did a double take and looked closer at the man across the garden, fully decked out in black and thoroughly looking like he didn’t belong there. He was looking around at everything but none of the guests. Finally, he slunk back behind the garden wall and disappeared.

This night got interesting.

As quietly as you could you followed him, keeping close to the wall. Near the door he stopped, a guard was posted there. Surely he was foiled now!

He approached the guard and looked around before speaking.

“Excuse me sir, I’m looking for the men’s room,” he said.

The guard turned and pointed back to where he came and the man grabbed the guard and tore his fucking throat out. The two men sank to the ground as the taller one continued biting his neck and you gasped, causing him to look up, mouth stained with blood and fire red eyes burning into you.

In a flurry he was in your face, one hand around your throat and the other covering your mouth.

“I’m gonna take my hand off your mouth,” he said quietly, “and you’re not going to make a sound, or you’ll end up my dessert. Alright?”

You nodded and he released the hand from your mouth, letting his fingers trail along your lips.

“Although I wouldn’t mind having you in other ways…”

“Do you mean to kill me sir?”

“No,” he said as if that were a heinous crime, “no but I can’t imagine you letting me go scott free, not after what you just saw.”

“What are you?” you asked, a little breathless from his hand around your throat. He removed it and brushed his fingers across your chest and between your breasts.

“Just a little hungry is all,” he shrugged, “haven’t eaten in days.”

“And you eat...people?”

“You seem more curious than frightened,” he pointed out, doing a quick scan to make sure you weren’t being watched, “most people would have run away screaming by this point.”

You really didn’t know why you were still here. You looked back at the party. God awful bunch.

“Why are you here?” you asked.

“To rob the place blind,” he said, “why are you here?”

“My fiance dragged me here,” you huffed, “wants me to mingle with the crowd more.”

“Sounds like a prize.”

“I know where Mrs. O’Dell keeps her gold bars.”

“You just get more delicious by the second.”

You took his hand and stepped over the guard, leading him into the house and winding through rooms past guards until you reached the staircase. You kicked off your horrible shoes and led him up and into a hallway, where a shadow approached. It was too late for you to hide so you turned to face him, grabbed his shoulders and-

“Hey what are you two-” the guard began but stopped. You pulled away from the man out of a deep kiss and looked at the guard apologetically. “Uh, that room there is open if you want to…”

“Oh thank you, sir!” you said politely and drug the man through the door, slamming it and breathing a sigh of relief. “We’ll wait for him to leave, the room with the bars is just across the hall.”

You turned and the man was still looking at you hungrily.

“You gonna finish what you started, girl?”

You blushed terribly and stammered before he swooped down and devoured your lips, his hands grasping you waist so hard that you gasped, then dissolved completely into his hold. You had never experienced a kiss like this, so raw and unbridled that it ripped the breath from your lungs and left you craving more even as it was happening.

He broke away and panted, fixing you with a look that held a question and your responded without a doubt in your mind you wanted this. He spun you around and pinned you to the door, tearing your dress off in one go, deftly pulling the bones in your corset apart.

“Oh Jesus Christ,” you moaned, more out of relief that you could now breathe than anything.

He pressed his length against you and growled, an animal sound in the ornately decorated room around you. His hand slid across your hip and around to your front, down your lips and circling your clit a few times. You weren’t sure men knew about that and god how happy you were that you were wrong.

“You nice and ready for me now?”

You nodded and hoped he got the point but went on anyway to say, eloquently, “god, yes please, sir, please-”

You heard his belt clink and fabric fall to the floor and sucked in a breath, feeling him press his huge head between your thighs. You could feel the slickness against you already and pressed your ass into his hips.

“Easy, girl,” he mumbled, placing one hand on your ass and pushing you up so he could line himself up with you. His nails ran down your back and you damn near choked on nothing, throwing your head back and letting out a uncivilized moan. His head pushed into you and good fuck he was huge already, how the hell were you going to fit in the rest?

Both hand rested on your ass now, pulling you closer and easing his cock more and more inside your warmth. You hoped you were tearing him apart as much as he was for you but now you couldn’t bring yourself to care that much because shit he was fully inside you and you were both panting so hard for some reason.

He slid an arm around your chest and pulled you up so he could place his lips near your ear. His other hand was still creating bruises in your hips.

“You hold on, darlin’,” he whispered, dragging his teeth down your neck and onto the trapezius muscle, biting down hard.

You couldn’t help but let out a cry, banging your fist on the door as he rammed into you over and over, hips thrusting against your ass loudly and biting down hard. You could feel warm blood flow between your bodies and you would be revolted but for the tingling light now flashing through each bone, each muscle, your vertebrae. Every time he plunged into you another burst of light poured through you.

He finally let go and cupped a breast, moaning and pressing his forehead against your upper back. You felt him shake his head and pull out and you whined as he flipped you around, slamming your back to the door and hitching your leg up, your knee resting in the crook of his arm. He steadied his hand on the door and entered you again, watching his cock slide into you slowly and groaning.

He snapped his hips up and your head flew back, hitting the door with a thud as you stood up on your toes and arched your back and you wanted him to bite you again so you just-

“Would you bite me again, please?”

Without hesitation he turned his head and grabbed your outstretched wrist, sinking his teeth into it and sucking. It sent shocks of pain through your arm, your stomach, but he fucked you at just the right angle as he bit and you came all over him, it ran down your legs and he groaned at the slickness and picked up his pace.

He rolled his hips up harder, harder, until all you saw was whiteness and all you could hear was his breathing in your ear and he cried out, pressing your bodies together completely as he came in you, filling you up completely and if the bite didn’t claim you as his own then this certainly did.

You both stood there for a moment, painfully aware of how sticky and uncomfortable you felt. You slowly pulled your leg from his grasp and he pulled out, holding you steady as you regained your balance… and sight. And other senses. He moved away from you as you caught your breath, putting himself away and rummaging through some drawers. He tossed you an over sized coat and a grey union suit.

“Hope this fits,” he said, “sorry about your dress. It was real pretty.”

“It was a pain in the ass.”

You pulled on the suit and coat and looked down at yourself, sighing. The lights were really bright and you shook your head. What the hell were you supposed to do now.

“What’s this?” you heard him ask and looked to where he was, fiddling with a lock box under a table.

“Oh I think I got my rooms mixed up,” you said, “this is the gold room.”

There was a loud bang on the door and you both looked up quickly.

“Sir, we need you to open this door immediately!”

You looked back to the man, who simply beamed at you. He climbed onto the desk and opened a window, holding a hand out to you. Shrugging, you took it.

“The name’s Arthur Morgan, miss,” he said before throwing you both out of a goddamn window, “and you have a long few days ahead of you.”

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead redemption 2

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shazyloren · 6 years

Text

Break Up With Your Girlfriend, I’m Bored

Summary: Jon and Dany split up, but when they see each other at the club, they both know what's going to happen...

Notes: As you know, I am taking part in a challenge on tumblr by user @jonerysfics and @mhysaofdragons in which for seven days from Valentines day I am uploading a new one shot. The prompts have been provided and the stories have all been written and I gotta say you're in for a lot of Jonerys content. So Day 6, 19th February, which is when I'm uploading this, the prompt I chose was 'Make up Sex'. Basically Ariana is a queen and I wrote this cus why not. Not full on Make-up sex but jealousy and lust and yeeeeeeeee

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17854064

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She was dancing, freely and full of vigour as the sleazy tunes filled her ears and possessed her very being. She’d already seen him here, with his new girlfriend she’d heard about, redhead and too good for the filthy man he was. She knew he’d seen her too, a stalling moment in the corner of her eye to where an intense gaze of lust immediately replaced it, and so the game had begun.

You got me some type of way, ain’t used to feeling this way…

Their breakup had been messy, but it wasn’t the first time it’s happened, nor she suspected would it be the last. But she was hot for him all the time, her vibrator at home hadn’t known another name or had another face other than his. Given the mini, leather dress and choker combination she was wearing, the fact he eyed her up and down, she had to assume he was hot for her too. Plus the tight ponytail and flow of her silver blonde hair, fashioned in a way that would be so good for pulling from behind.

She had him in the bag.

She tries to look disinterested, dancing around in a seductive fashion, her own hands roaming her skin, her flesh on fire as the skin on skin contact increased. But oh how she was interest, oh how she wanted nothing more than the taste the minty fresh mouth on her own, to feel his length pressed against the apex of her ass. She knew the freak he was, and she wanted to unleash him.

I do not know what to say, yeah yeah, but I know I shouldn’t think about it.

The music sent Dany into a place of complete and utter serenity, need and lust and adoration rolled over in waves but it never controlled her, she was in control of it. And so she was feeling sinful, wanting to kiss him right in from of the girl he’d come with, take him in her mouth in the unhygienic backrooms, or even the alleyway outside.

She knows he’s watching her, from somewhere, she knows he’s watching her every curve and edge move, wishing he was grinding up on her, wishing they were the only two there that existed and that he could take her here, in this very club. So with this information, she puts extra emphasis on her movement and the way she danced.

She bent down and up, she wiggled her hips to and fro, she breathed heavily as the air in the club became hazy over time. She grinded on other men, moving between different ones, none of them mattering, only him and his cock.

Took one fucking look at your face, I wanna know how you taste…

Over the hour of them both being there, she feels the precipitation, the sticky sweat building in her outfit, on her chest. The strobe lights make her feel almost invincible, like she was energised by the bulbs themselves. She catches the smallest of glances from his eyes again, intense and undressing her where she stands. She’d seen that gaze so many times, the outcome from tonight would be the one she wanted, she was sure of it.

She only breaks once, to get a drink from the bar to keep the fire within her going, to keep her feeling juiced and ready for him. She’s not far from him when she does, he’s leaned against the bar at the other end. She chances a look at him through the glass, and her clamouring chest wants to run to him and fuck him where he stands.

He looks to good to pass up, his wild and curly hair so grabbable and enticing, his eyes so entrancing and wandering over her form. He’s trying to pay attention to the redheaded girl stood next to him, but she knows he wants the woman she was.

Usually don’t give it away, yeah yeah, but you know I’m already thinkin’ bout it.

Daenerys doesn’t put women down, she’s not better than anyone else, but she’s carried away by the game they’re both playing, she’s in need of him, she hates him not being against her, he’s the half of her she need to feel whole in the moment. So she slowly makes her way over to him, one song at a time, dancing with different drunk and high men as she does.

She makes it seem so natural, but it’s turning into early morning now and she need to take him home, she needed to feel him devouring her in every way humanly possible. She needed to feel him inside her, them both pressed against a wall, against a glass window, anything...

Then I realise ‘she’s right there’, and I’m at home like ‘damn this ain’t fair’…

She was going to have to deal with the girl, effortlessly but in a way that would be gentle. She makes eye contact with him, and he’s almost daring her to come closer. She wants to, she’s aching for him. Her heart is hammering in her chest like she’s run a marathon, her breath in her lungs is struggling for an outlet.

She moves in slowly, the sluttiest part of herself engaged as she moves to music and feeling, dancing with some random junkie next to him and the girl, grinding with purpose and allowing her mouth to part as a force she can’t control takes over her body, in full view of him.She knows he’s hard for her, knows he’s desperate to taste what she had to offer.

But she can’t give the game over to him in such an easy turn of events, she needs to make him work for it. The guys she’s grinding on backs it up into her ass almost, and so forth, there’s a sudden frenzy where the randomer thinks he’s found his luck, but she pushes him away for another guy, all to make the one she wants jealous.

Break up with your girlfriend, yeah yeah, cus I’m bored, you can hit it in the morning, yeah yeah, like it’s yours…

All it would take, would be one little word, one magical word to her and she’s be his. But he was stoic, their eyes constantly connecting as she’s within a few yards of him. Sipping his drink by the bar, holding onto his drink tightly, the girl not doing much but stare around. The girls knows, she knows his eyes are elsewhere and she’s nervous of what will happen. She needs to make her move, or it will be over.

She pushes the final man away before she makes her close approach. She runs her hands over his chest, feeling the strength in his muscles as she does, wanting his other muscle inside her. She’s whispering in his ears that she’ll be somewhere waiting for him, that this girl is nothing compared to her pussy and he knows it.

She gives the girl a sorry glance, the shock and upset on her face prevalent and perturbed. She offers condolences, saying that they’ve been on and off for years and it wasn’t meant to be for her, all the while grinding up against him. She can feel his hard length, it’s making her feel stir crazy.

I know it ain’t right, but I don’t care, break up with your girlfriend, yeah yeah, cus i'm bored...

She feels a small amount of sorrow for the redhead, who’s tears begin to stream down her face, so she offers her a hook, and points to a guy she knows from somewhere else, saying he likes Redheads, before gripping her man by his arm and dragging him towards the back of the club.

The smoke and haze of the room filled her with a feeling of lust she knew well. He was her drug. One touch and the intoxication is instant. Whatever he wants to do is what they will do and there isn't a thing she can do to stop him in this moment - not that she'd want to. Just his scent sends her into a heady trance, one that won’t end until their finish.

But there’s a part of her that wants him to give her the control, or for her to just take it, like she’d taken him from the girl. She wants to drive him crazy, she wants to make him beg for mercy because her pussy is so good, make him plead for a moment to breathe. She wanted to do every naughty thing to him until his mind exploded.

This shit always happen to me yeah, why can't we just play for keeps? Practically on my knees, yeah, yeah, but I know I shouldn't think about it...

They stop, to kiss against a wall, his finger tips are electric, they must be, for wherever they touch her, her skin tingles in a frenzy of static. As his hands move over her skin her body has a transitory paralysis, her mind unable to process the pleasure so fast. His head moves around to her left ear and he whispers what's coming next, a promise of going into the bathroom or some other closed of area and fucking her senseless.

Suddenly her body is off pause-mode and she pull back for a kiss that's both soft and hard. Both of us move in an intoxicated dance of limbs, never making the exact same moves twice, not in the decade we've been on and off lovers. He's her cat-nip, She’s his whiskey on ice. The music is still entrancing, and she knows the redhead is long forgotten.

You know what you're doin' to me, you're singin' my songs in the streets, yeah, yeah, actin' all innocent, please, when I know you're out here thinkin' 'bout it

They need to move to privacy and she knows they need each other. She’s needed him since she last had him. They used to fuck in his car every single day. Even hours after she touched herself body, his smell still lingers on and she’d imagine him entering her again and again and again. She used to do anything they could imagine for him and would do anything so that he wouldn't tire of her like he clearly had the redhead.

But they couldn’t move straight away, they were too consumed by one another. Their lips fitted perfectly, as if they were meant for each other. Moving against each other, feeling each other. he grabbed the back of her neck, growling in the kiss as she whimpered in pleasure. They were fighting for control, and both knew the control was a pendulum, swinging one way and then another.

She fought for a bit, urging them both across the club to the door she knows is there, to the hiding place in which they could both be free to fuck hard. The others in the club don’t even look, a couple of people making out was nothing new, but the freaky nature with which this would end was something else.

Then you realize she's right there yeah, and you're at home like, ‘Damn, she can't compare’...

She wants him, needs him, she’s desperate beyond compare and so forcefully, she pushes him, running to the door with him on her tale as the clubbers grind into the new day. She is wet, she can feel it between her thighs, feel it where she needs his cock.

She sees the door, a small cupboard, perhaps a cleaning one, but all she knows is if she doesn’t go in there with him, she’d open her legs on the floor in front of everyone and risk being arrested. She can feel him behind her when she pauses outside the door to look around, his hard as rock cock trying to fuck her in the ass even with her clothes on. So she pushes the door open and drags him in.

With the door closed every pretence falls. The facade they show the club melts away and all they want is to fuck each other's brains out. Every kiss has a raw intensity - breathing fast, heart rates faster. Then before they both know how it happened they are naked and their skin is moving softly together, like the finest of silk.

Break up with your girlfriend, yeah yeah, cus i'm bored...

She feels his hand enter from below moving fast, their tongues entwined in a kiss, and then he's inside, changing her breathing with every thrust, hearing her moans timed to his body. Then all at once he stops and kisses from her breasts to her stomach, his hands light; then he's licking and using his fingers all at once, watching her reaction, feeling how her legs move, watching her body writhe.

He tells her he's going to make her beg for it, like she wanted him to, he says it’s a punishment for taking him away from a healthy relationship and dragging him back to her. She just lets out a moan, unable to articulate a response. In seconds he's on her again, fucking her harder, just long enough to intoxicate her mind before stopping again.

If it's begging he wants, he's gonna have to stop long enough for her brain to start working again first. And she wouldn’t beg for it, she didn’t see anything wrong in what she’d done, and he’d hardly complained out on the dance-floor. They both knew it was a power move, and he’s done it to initiate control.

With your girlfriend, your girlfriend…

Their end is close and so as they climax together, desperately clawing at one another for power, for the edge, feeling complete, she feels a feeling of relief was over her. There was no girlfriend anymore, he was hers once again, and they would be together from now on.

“Jon” She says his name finally, and it’s both their undoing.

“Dany” He replies, as their breathing slows down, their naked bodies flushed against one another, she’s in complete ecstasy. All she thinks about is his body against hers, his cum dripping down her leg, her sweating form as they look into each other’s eyes. Mutually missed one another.

They would try harder not to break up this time.

Try.

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