#jimmy woo imagine

[captainsophiestark]

Sleight of Hand

Jimmy Woo x Reader

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Written for Fictober 2024!

Fandom: Marvel

Day Twenty-Four Prompt: "You didn't do anything wrong!"

Summary: Jimmy gets a little help from his spouse to master the card trick he saw Scott Lang do.

Word Count: 1,118

Category: Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

She cautiously stepped around the corner, coming face to face with...

I froze, my attention drifting from the book in my hands at a weird noise behind me. It sounded like some kind of fluttering, but when I didn't hear it again, I went back to my book.

...coming face to face with-

"Shoot!"

I set my book down. The noise had come again, along with something light hitting our hardwood floors before my husband, Jimmy Woo, huffed. I marked the page in my book, set it down, then turned around to look over the back of the couch.

I frowned when I saw Jimmy with one empty hand out in front of him, like he was waiting for a handshake from someone invisible. He hadn't noticed me watching him, and after a moment of intense concentration, he jerked his arm quickly like he was trying to shake something out of his sleeve. Lo and behold, a card fell out. He tried to catch it between his fingers, but he missed, and instead it fluttered to the floor.

"Argh!"

"Honey." Jimmy's head snapped up to look at me as soon as I spoke. "What are you doing?"

"It's this card trick thing... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your reading."

I shook my head, turning on the couch to face him more fully.

"It's okay. What card trick thing?"

"You remember that guy I told you about? Scott Lang?"

"The ant guy? Yeah."

"Well, the last time I checked in on him, he did this card trick where he just made a card appear in his hand, like out of nowhere. It was actually really cool, so... I've been trying to teach myself how to do it."

I stared at Jimmy for a minute, processing. He stared back. Finally, I smiled.

"Okay. Let me help."

"Really?"

"Yeah." I stood from the couch, strecthing a little before walking around to join my husband. "I need a break from all the bad decisions the main character's making in my book, anyway. Let's learn some couples closeup magic."

*****************

I'd assumed it would be a fairly easy trick to learn. Don't ask me why, but I just figured it would take us maybe an hour, tops, and we'd both be making cards appear and disappear like pros. That was very much not how it went.

A few hours after I'd first noticed Jimmy practicing, we were still watching videos and trying to do the trick slowly, quickly, and everything in between with no luck. Technically, we were doing a little better than when Jimmy had first started, but the trick was still escaping both of us.

I watched carefully as Jimmy tried to do it again, and to me, it looked perfect. But the card still dropped to the floor instead of sliding smoothly into his hand.

Jimmy sighed, shoulders slumping as he looked up at me.

"What did I do wrong?"

"You didn't do anything wrong! That should've worked! What the fuck is it with this trick?"

Jimmy laughed, shaking his head as he leaned over to pick up the card again.

"I'm glad you decided to help me. I was getting pretty frustrated, but seeing how much more frustrated it's making you is weirdly making me calm."

I huffed and crossed my arms. "Glad I could help. But seriously, I feel like you're doing everything right. I can't tell what's wrong, or why it's not working."

"It has to be the finger movement," he said, setting up the card again. "I'm fumbling it when I'm obviously not supposed to."

"Frankly, I'm not convinced it's possible to pull this trick off without fumbling the card. Are you sure that Lang guy wasn't messing with you?"

Jimmy laughed again. "Pretty sure, but I guess you never know."

I just sighed as Jimmy prepared to try the trick again. I watched, but not as carefully as before. I'd been looking for some clue as to where we were going wrong for hours now, and hadn't been able to find it. Maybe it was just going to take a lot more practice, no matter how we tried to do it.

Jimmy took a deep breath, then extended his hand. I didn't see the card move, but suddenly, it appeared in his hand. Nowhere near the floor. Exactly how the trick was supposed to work.

"OH MY GOD!" I shouted, jumping up in the air the moment the shock wore off. Jimmy grinned, laughing in disbelief as he stared at the card in his hand. I didn't give him much time to savor it before tackling him with a hug. "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU ACTUALLY DID IT!"

Jimmy laughed again, absolutely joyous, as he wrapped his arms around me. I pulled back a moment later, just enough to kiss him. After all that work and frustration over the past few hours, it felt amazing to see him pull off the trick perfectly.

After a moment, the two of us calmed down slightly, taking a step apart even though the gigantic grins were still on our faces. Jimmy's had more of a lopsided tilt to it, which made my heart race.

"...Do you think we're celebrating this a little too much?" he asked. I immediately shook my head.

"Hell no we're not. Do it again."

Jimmy took a deep breath, resetting the card and actually starting with his hand by his side this time. He lifted it, and in one smooth motion, the card appeared in his hand, extended towards me. I actually screamed, jumping up and down, and after a moment Jimmy joined me.

I pulled Jimmy in for another kiss, and when we finally broke apart, he was still giddy. He did the trick another few times in a row, and although he stumbled a little on one of the moves, the card still didn't hit the ground. He was getting smoother every time.

"This calls for a celebratory dinner," I decided. "I'll get something started, you grab some wine. We toast to the defeat of the magic trick that thought it could defeat us."

Jimmy laughed. "Sounds like a plan to me. Thanks for all your help. I can't wait to use that trick the next time I need to give somebody one of my cards."

"You know I'm always here for you, including and especially for stuff like this. No card trick, random guy you see at work, or Avengers-level threat can stop us."

"Damn right."

Jimmy grinned at me, and I leaned in for one last kiss before heading to the kitchen. Sometimes the smaller, less important victories felt the best, and one of my favorite things about my amazing husband was how willing he was to celebrate those moments with me.

Although, after all the time we'd spent today, this victory felt far from small.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen @misshale21

Marvel Taglist: @valkyriepirate @infinetlyforgotten @sagesmelts @gaychaosgremlin

[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (1 - Honey! I shrunk the kids! 18+)

Summary: Wanda accidentally shrinks your kids while trying out a spell that would benefit both of you in the bedroom; Jimmy and Darcy attempt to find out more about the Hex, particularly when they discover a remarkable detail about you. Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 3k+ | Tags: Smut, Campy Humor, Language

A/N: I've been working on this series since late August and have finally figured out what to do with it, enough to share it with you all. The story will be told in three parts: Westview (The Missing Town), Pre-Westview, and Post-Westview. This follows some events in WandaVision, but it's very canon-divergent. It's going to be different from my other works (I've never written humor before and I'm quite insecure about that), as this one is very plot-driven but at the same time, still very much Wanda x Reader (especially in parts 2 and 3). Updates will be every Wednesday. Chapters will be 2.5–3.5k words long, except for the ending chapters of each part, which are twice as long. So, without further ado… More author's notes here.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

-

“Honey! I shrunk the kids!” 

Wanda bursts into the basement, apron billowing out like a cape. Except, there's no draft down here; that apron shouldn't be moving like that at all. But then again, considering your wife’s claim, maybe the laws of physics are taking a day off.

You glance up from the miniature model home you’re meticulously working on, unsure if you heard her right. Did she really just say that? 

“You what?”

Wanda, flushed and a little breathless, skids to a stop in front of you. “Okay, so I was experimenting with a new spell, one that was supposed to…” She bites her lip, hesitating, her face glowing a deeper shade of red. “...it was supposed to do something else, but it backfired and... well, it’s not important right now!”

“Jesus, Wanda.”

Your poor, beautiful, occasionally clumsy wife stands there, teetering between a freak-out and a fit of giggles. 

“It was an accident! I didn't mean to!” Wanda shrieks, causing the room to tremble from her panic.

Wanda's powers have always been a wildcard. You can child-proof the entire house in a day, but that definitely doesn't cover child-proofing Wanda herself—especially not when your kids are involved. Luckily, the boys have inherited some special abilities of their own, which leaves you as the sole non-superpowered member of the household. With that in mind, you know better than to panic. Getting worked up alongside her would only escalate things, and you’re not exactly keen on being shrunk next.

“Okay…where are they now?” you ask as calmly as you can manage.

Wanda takes a deep breath and leads you to the living room. You trail her in silence, clutching at composure. It can’t be that bad, right? The distant sound of playful music trickling through the house almost makes it seem like everything’s fine. You hadn’t really noticed it before, but now that you think about it, it’s like your brain has learned to associate that kind of tune with situations that somehow always end in collective sighs of relief.

Sighs, giggles, and applause—sounds that don't belong to Wanda or the boys.

Where are they coming from?

Before your mind can completely sink into the oddities of your life here in Westview, Wanda halts in the middle of the living room. Your eyes dart around, searching for Billy and Tommy, but they’re nowhere to be seen.

“Where?”

“Right there,” Wanda points toward the coffee table, her finger trembling slightly.

You squint in the direction she’s pointing. Next to the TV remote, two tiny figures wave up at you—your sons, each about the size of your thumb.

“Oh my god, they’re tiny!” you gasp, covering your mouth with your hand. You expected them to be at least half their normal size—a size they might grow out of eventually.

“Shhhh, Y/N!” Wanda hisses, pressing her index finger to her lips. “The neighbors might hear you.”

Neighbors. Which usually means just Agnes from next door. There’s literally several meters of spaces between your houses, but somehow, she always manages to hear things she shouldn’t and pries like she’s in some perfectly timed routine.

Wanda kneels by the coffee table, her eyes soft. “I told them to stay right there until we sorted this out.”

The twins start making noises, sounding like tiny bells, though still hard to make out. You pull out a magnifying glass from your back pocket—has that been there the whole time?—making sure your sons are okay. As soon as the lenses zoom in on their faces, you're relieved to see them laughing uproariously, seemingly unbothered by their predicament.

“They seem... happy?” you say, lowering the magnifying glass.

“They think it's hilarious,” Wanda grumbles, her lips curling into a pout.

“So,” you sigh, pushing yourself to your feet. “Any ideas on how to fix this?”  You're tempted to suggest just letting it run its course, waiting for the spell to fizzle out, but you know Wanda wouldn’t go for that. She's fiercely protective of the twins, and you can't blame her—it’s all her handiwork, after all.

Then you hear it—a hiccup. Another follows, and then another, each one a little louder than the last.

Before you know it, Wanda's a sobbing mess.

You cup her face in your hands. “Hey, hey...it’s okay,” you murmur, gently brushing away a tear with your thumb.

Wanda’s breath hitches as she looks at you, her eyes brimming with worry. “What if I can’t fix it?”

“We will,” you promise, looking into her eyes.

A collective ‘awww’ rings in your ears, pulling you out of the moment. What the hell—where did that come from? You've had this creepy feeling of being watched lately, and it's only getting worse.

Wanda brings you back to focus when she nuzzles into your palm. “Oh, Y/N, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You give her a small, lopsided grin and plant a kiss on her forehead. “Good thing you’ll never have to find out.” Something passes over her eyes as soon as you say it, but it vanishes in a split-second, replaced by a moment of inspiration.

“Wait,” she bursts out, stepping away from your embrace. “I think I have an idea.”

She heads straight for the fridge, and you trail after her, holding your breath.

“I’ve been trying to reverse it, but my magic isn’t cooperating. It’s like... it’s tangled,” Wanda mutters, yanking things out of the fridge.

You scowl, arms crossed, watching her. “Tangled? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. The more I try to fix it, the worse it gets. Like it has a life of its own,” she says. she says. After a few more seconds of rummaging, Wanda finally grabs a tetra pack of chocolate milk—the twins' favorite.

“I’m hoping this will do the trick,” she says, giving the carton a shake.

You cock your head, clueless on what’s going on. “Honey, what’s going on?”

Wanda mumbles, barely glancing up as she vigorously shakes the carton. “Just doing what it says—’Shake well before serving.’”

You roll your eyes, muttering, “This woman...”. Then louder, you ask, “I mean, what’s the chocolate got to do with our tiny children?”

Wanda stops mid-shake, a look of realization dawning on her face. “Oh, right,” she slaps her forehead. “You can’t read minds. I keep forgetting,” she chuckles, setting down the carton with a sheepish grin.

There it is again—a chorus of laughter from somewhere far off. Your mouth twitches at the sound—it’s really starting to get on your nerves. You make a mental note to bring it up with Wanda later.

Wanda gathers herself, then pitches her plan. “Instead of directly casting a spell on the twins, I think it’s safer to enchant this chocolate milk.” She picks up the carton again, giving it a final shake. “The idea is to infuse the milk with a spell that will gradually restore them to their normal sizes.”

You nod, beginning to understand what she’s trying to do. “Sounds less risky than zapping them with more magic head on.”

“Exactly,” she agrees, her eyes lighting up with excitement. You’d swear she’s getting a kick out of this macabre parenting hack—kids and all. The background tune keeps playing, like a promise that the universe won’t let things turn to shit. You’re wondering if maybe Wanda hears it too.

“This way, the magic is diluted and can adjust more naturally with their systems. It’s like... sneaking the cure into their bodies,” she says, snapping her fingers, red swirls of magic emanating from them to the carton of milk.

“I'm so proud of you, baby,” you say, leaning in for a quick kiss which she happily accepts. “For finding a fix, I mean. The whole shrinking our kids thing? Still not great.”

–

“What kind of spell do you think Wanda was going for?” Darcy asks, her eyes fixed on the credits rolling across the screen before it fades to black. She’s really gotten into Wanda’s little show, a welcome distraction from the freezing depths of hell that is New Jersey in November. Though exciting things are finally happening to her, the timing couldn't be worse. 

“No clue,” Jimmy mutters, his attention glued to the laptop in front of him. It’s been two days since Quantico sent him to look into the bizarre case of a missing town—a phenomenon almost unheard of in the 21st century. Upon arriving, they discovered that the town in question, Westview, was enveloped by some sort of anomaly—or a Hex, as Darcy has started calling it, referring to the hexagonal shape of the barrier encasing the town. 

Around the same time as the discovery, S.W.O.R.D. agent Monica Rambeau was quite literally sucked into the anomaly by accident. The only breakthrough has been Darcy Lewis’ detection of the signals, providing them with a window into the mysterious shroud, even helping them identify some of the show's characters as actual residents of the town.

But overall, they're still desperately trying to piece together why this is happening and how to stop it.

Darcy peeks over at the data on Jimmy’s screen. “Find anything new?”

Jimmy sighs in frustration. “No, not really. Everything we dig up just adds more questions instead of answers.”

“Like what, for instance?”

Instead of answering directly, he slides a thick file across the table toward her. “See for yourself.”

Darcy catches the file and starts flipping through it. Murmuring, she says, “So, Google finally returned search results?” The stack of papers is downright daunting. Jimmy’s right—any mountain of information would raise more questions than answers.

“No, not Google,” Jimmy corrects her. “Stark's highly confidential database did. The woman Wanda's married to in Westview? She’s not in any public records. Turns out her records were wiped clean two years ago.”

Darcy looks up, puzzled. “Why would Stark's company have this?”

“Just read, Darcy. It’s all in there,” he says, turning his full attention back to his research.

Darcy frowns slightly and begins scanning through the pages more attentively. It takes her a few minutes to piece together the information she's reading, with her mind going in different directions and still burning with curiosity about the spell Wanda botched.

Finally, she reads aloud, somewhat incredulously, “Subject was recognized as S.H.I.E.L.D.'s youngest marksmanship prodigy prior to recruitment by Stark Industries following the dissolution of S.H.I.E.L.D.. Subsequently provided tactical support on multiple classified operations in conjunction with the Avengers initiative.”

She sets the file down thoughtfully. “Kinda reminds me a bit of Romanoff or Barton. Total badass. I hadn’t pegged Maximoff for that crowd.”

“What crowd did you have Wanda filed under?” Jimmy asks, just out of curiosity.

Darcy’s gaze drifts off, a dreamy smirk on her lips. “Honestly? I always pictured her—or anyone for that matter—swooning over someone more…mythical hammer than tactical espionage.”

Jimmy snorts to himself at Darcy's whimsical take and says, “Of course, you’d say that. Thor's everyone's type.”

“He’s yours too?”

“Yeah, why not,” Jimmy shrugs, his tone more reluctant than sarcastic, which only amuses Darcy more.

“So,” Darcy begins, “Wanda's settled down in New Jersey, married to a woman? I mean, good for her. They all deserve a break. Maybe even an early retirement.”

Jimmy lets out a long, tired sigh, like he's just about done with everything. Darcy notices and raises an eyebrow. “What now?”

He barely glances up. “Like I said, everything’s in there. Just keep reading.”

Darcy groans but goes back to the file, flipping through the pages again. She’s about to make a snarky comment when something catches her attention—something that has her eyes practically popping out of their sockets.

“It… it says here Y/N’s dead.”

“That’s right,” Jimmy responds without missing a beat.

“Not snapped five years ago. Dead-dead.”

“Yep.”

Darcy stares at the page, disbelief all over her face. “That can’t be right, can it?”

Jimmy finally swivels his chair to face her, looking as tired as he sounds. “That’s what I’ve been trying to wrap my head around for hours. If aliens and superheroes are real, maybe bringing someone back from the dead to star in a sitcom isn’t so far-fetched, right?”

–

You carefully pull the blankets up over Billy, smoothing his hair and whispering a soft good night. Tommy’s already half-asleep, but you make sure to tuck him in just as snugly, brushing a kiss on his forehead. Wanda stands in the doorway, watching you, her heart swelling in her chest. You were so clueless when she first had the twins, but now, being a mother just seems to come naturally to you. 

And you pulled it off in a week, while the twins stretched into six-year-olds just as fast.

“Honey,” you call softly, noticing the way she’s lost in thought. “Aren’t you going to say good night to our boys?”

Wanda steps into the room, giving each of the boys their good night kiss. You pucker your lips, silently asking for your turn, and she playfully swats your arm, whispering, “Not here, baby.”

You pout, giving her your best puppy-dog eyes, which only makes her smile. Without warning, you grab her hand and hurriedly pull her out of the boys' room, making a beeline for your bedroom. Wanda’s laughter fills the hallway, and just as you reach the door, you suddenly sweep her off the ground, lifting her into your arms.

Wanda lets out a shriek, her laughter infectious, and you can’t help but grin, even as you let her thump onto the mattress—a sloppy, graceless drop. You follow her onto the bed, rolling onto your stomach to peer down at her, still sporting that stupid smile.

“So, about that kiss you owe me,” you whisper, hovering closer, teasing her with your proximity.

Wanda nods distractedly. “I think I can manage that,” she murmurs, and then her lips are on yours.

It starts simple and sweet. Though soon, her tongue is gently nudging your lips apart, and it quickly becomes anything but. Her hands slip down to your back, pulling you close until her heartbeat hammering against yours. You break away, lips trailing down to her neck, exploring every dip and hollow, your tongue darting out to taste her skin. When you hit that spot just behind her ear, the one that always drives her wild, she gasps.

“Don't start something you can’t finish,” she warns, her voice already thick with want.

“Who says I won't?” you shoot back with a wolfish grin.

You both fall into a familiar routine, as easy to slip into as the back of your hand. There’s no hurry, just the two of you moving languidly—whispering against skin, giggles turning into sighs and breathy moans. Sometimes, being with Wanda feels like a desperate need, as if not having her completely would literally be the end of you. But it’s moments like these that are your favorite—the ones where you’re barely even trying, yet she still comes apart at your touch, at the mere feeling of your fingers on her. 

Eventually, you both settle down, a contented sigh escaping you as you curl up against Wanda, your skin slightly damp with the effort of your love. You like this, being the little spoon, hiding your face in her neck like you’re hiding from the world, though you vaguely recall a time when it was usually her in your arms. 

As you’re staggering on the edge of sleep, Wanda’s fingers gently massage your scalp, her lips dropping soft, pensive kisses on your forehead. You're almost out, but one last question keeps you from drifting off entirely.

“Wanda, that spell earlier that shrunk the boys—what was that about?” you mumble, your words slurring into the dream nipping at your consciousness.

Wanda’s laughter rumbles through her chest, nudging you slightly from your drowsy state.

“Come on, tell me,” you coax, giving her side a playful pinch to keep her talking.

“It’s embarrassing,” she mumbles, her face turning a delightful shade of pink again that spreads down her neck and chest. Her coy reaction wakes you up some more. As a twisted kind of payback, you run your tongue rough over her nipple, snatching a sharp gasp from her. Moving up, you hold her flushed cheek, making sure she’s looking right at you. Your thigh presses between hers, and it doesn’t take long before she’s wet and ready again.

“Are you going to tell me, or do you plan on sleeping with a wet pussy tonight?” you whisper, brushing your lips against the corner of her mouth. Under different circumstances, Wanda would scold you for your crudeness, but right now, she's too worked up to care. Your dirty mouth has always been one of the most irritating yet irresistible things about you. Even having kids hasn’t changed that.

“I was trying to... enchant your...” she starts, but then your hand tightens on her butt, spurring her subtle grinding movements. By this time, she’s practically dripping onto the sheets, her thoughts scattering as the tightening sensation below her stomach builds.

“My what?” you push, smirking as you watch her fumble for words. You hoist her leg, resting it on your shoulder, laying her wide open. You slide two fingers inside her, fucking her slowly while your thumb brutally circles her clit. As she hesitates to answer, you hook in another finger, drawing a sharp cry of pleasure from Wanda. Your gaze stays locked on your wife, a part of you as surprised as she might be at your boldness tonight.

All day, she’s haunted every corner of your mind, fantasizing about stealing a quick, desperate moment while the twins are asleep or at Agnes’s. But there’s been something—an unnameable restraint—holding you back from indulging those wicked impulses. It isn’t until the boys are asleep, the house quiet, that those invisible chains start to loosen. That’s when you can finally allow yourself to desire Wanda the way you really want to. The way you’ve always been meant to.

“Your... clit,” Wanda finally spits out, seeing you've drifted off, stuck in your head. “I thought I could make it... well, longer. Like a...” She chokes on the words, too embarrassed to finish.

“Like a cock?” you throw out crudely, looking down at her impishly.

Wanda nods, mortified but also a little defiant. “Wanted you to fuck me with it,” she mumbles, finding her backbone now that the secret's in the open.

“I am fucking you,” you whisper hotly right into her ear. “But if you want it like that, all you have to do is say the word.”

Wanda clenches around you at the thought of doing it like that in the near future, her breath hitching. “Please,” she mewls, the word dripping with need. 

“Good girl,” you growl, cranking up the pace as you drive your fingers harder inside her, making her gasp and arch towards you. “You can come.”

With a choked whimper, Wanda surrenders, her body seizing as her orgasm washes over her. She soaks your wrist, the clear fluid trickling down onto the sheets, but you don't stop, pushing through every pulse of her release until she's quaking, utterly wrecked beneath you. You patiently wait until her spasms subside before slowly pulling your fingers away.

Wanda's hand shoots out, stopping your movements. “Stay,” she implores, sounding like she's on the verge of tears. You're momentarily startled by her reaction, concerned something might be wrong. Swiftly, you slide your fingers back where they belong, nestled deep inside her.

“Okay, baby, I’m not going anywhere,” you murmur, pushing back the damp strands of hair sticking to her forehead with your free hand. Exhaustion begins to cloud your senses as you sink down beside Wanda, still keeping your hand where she wants it. 

“I'm sorry for needing you so much,” Wanda murmurs, her voice shaky with tears you can't see, your cheek pressed against the pillow beside hers.

“Don't be,” you mumble, half-lost to sleep as she clings to you more tightly. “I’m here.”

“You love me,” she says, a hint of wonder, of fear.

You nod, lips brushing the nape of her neck. “And you love me,” you murmur back, your eyes slipping shut. “I'm not going anywhere, Wanda.”

“For now,” she whispers to herself, once your breathing evens out in sleep.

Tears betray her then, and she clamps a hand over her mouth to keep quiet. But just before her sobs fully break free, she flicks a finger, a thin red wisp of magic ensuring you stay deep in sleep.

With you unaware, Wanda surrenders to her grief.

[tubbytarchia]

Doc and Jimmy brainrot part 1 lmao oh no

Basically "What if Doc was in the Life games and Jimmy triggered his parental instincts again". You guys will see my vision. I don't care what it takes. You will see this very specific vision I have god damn it if it's the last thing I do

This is all I have to use as propaganda right now but some ideas and justification below cut!!

Been imagining a lot of Doc/Jimmy interactions both in a traffic and HC context, both of which I'd love to draw for but obvs this for now is 3rd life and I want to draw a little something for each Life series. You'll see!!

The general idea is inspired by a moment from one of the Decked Out streams in which Jimmy calls for Etho and Doc's all "you're triggering my parental instinct... I wanna take you into my hand and take you to a safe place" yep that's it that's the whole inspiration!!

Jimmy deserves love and he does get it to various degrees ofc (Tango, Bad Boys etc) but man... It's so fun to me to imagine Doc in traffic, I think he claimed that he didn't want to be part of the life games because he was afraid of being too competitive (or so I heard), but god it's so fun to imagine big scary mad scientist goat man in that scenario and him probably going at it on his own a lot of the time, but this god forsaken mf Jimmy knows exactly how to unintentionally trigger his parental instincts. I want Doc to subtly take Jimmy under his wing especially as Jimmy keeps dying first. So maybe Jimmy is a bit incompetent and loud as far as he knows, but he sees that he's trying his best and the dad in him can't help but intervene just a tiny bit (and I do mean just a tiny bit) as the games go on. Yes I'm just gonna shove Doc into the Life Games just because I wish this dynamic could have happened and I beg you to put up with it!!

For the above drawing specifically since, sigh, I'm slow and that's all I have to offer rn... it's of course 3rd life, starting off. I imagine Jimmy's wings sprouting during that, because the whole "canary curse" began with the Life Games etc. And this post isn't about FH but just for context as I imagine it, Scott who doesn't like unpredictability convinces him to clip his wings (thanks Bree) because Jimmy's not a proper avian (unlike Grian who has a more "airborne" body, bird feet etc rather than just... wings) and he'd never be able to take flight anyway, those wings would only encumber him. (And then Jimmy keeps clipping them himself until DL Ranchers but cough this post isn't about that). I imagine the avians (for my specific roster, just Grian) have their wings magically clipped anyway just enough to prevent flight and make the games fair. Doc ofc isn't avian himself but he knows that Grian greatly frowns upon the act of willingly clipping wings so when he sees that Jimmy's quickly growing wings have been clipped as well, he can't help but ask, because why would that be necessary while his wings are so small anyway? And Jimmy's response triggers a wee bit of fatherly concern in him but thats it for 3rd life woo

For the rest I just wanna draw more tiny moments of interaction until I get to Secret Life, I guess!! The brainrot is really fucking strong guys

[eliossun]

LAST SHOT - first meet

synopsis : interning at a random ship in space sounds like a great idea for your paper. don't you think? part -> 1 | other chapters -> 2 3 ?

characters : anya, swansea, daisuke, curly, jimmy, gn!reader (daisuke x reader if u squint)

content : filler. lots of filler. lots of people being people. the series is sort of a fix it fic (?) only warning is mention of.. jimmy... eugh

wc : 3.4k+

before you read, reader is : cold, non expressive, and a psychology major...

close to an oc.. but also not an oc? features of the reader is never described, and i wrote it as gender neutral as possible

- you were an intern in the pink pony express.

- .. more specifically, a university student with honours in their bachelor's degree in psychology. you did plan on going back to get a masters once you're done with this internship. the pay wasn't much, but since it covered your living expenses for a year, and since the internship being valid enough to put into a research paper (after confirming there's psychological tests in the ship) you say this wouldn't be so bad. 

- ..or so you thought.

- the first day you boarded the ship, you were baffled by the lack of security measures of what, or what you can't bring to the spaceship. sure there were manuals, but the actual boarding of the ship? no security, at all.

- you knew the conditions that the company puts their employees in from online forums.. so you tried to prepare beforehand with a backpack. woo! (it took you hours to recount your basic needs)

- you managed to sneak on board your little backpack (it was huge) and thankfully, you managed to stash it away in your room before anyone else noticed. 

- .. and thankfully the directions were easy to read as well, otherwise you'd be lost.

- you don't want to bring all that around the tour of the ship either, so this would be the most efficient solution.

- pretending to be waiting in front of the ship unnoticed was also easy. however, imagine the surprise when another intern trips into the spaceship, last second.

- the captain - you find his name to be curly, only managed to give you a brief welcome, before asking the nurse of the ship - she introduced herself as anya - to show you around.

- whilst going around, the other intern tried to start conversations with you. which briefly went as follows:

"hey! my name's daisuke, yours?" 

"y/n."

"woah! cool name!"

"..."

"..not much of a talker...it seems... hehe.."

- you only nod in response. 

- anya seems to have read the room, and immediately guided you away to introduce you to two other people instead. swansea the mechanic, and jimmy, the copilot.

- however the atmosphere persisted. you stayed in silence most of the time. daisuke was close to starting another conversation with you, but seemed to back out last second.

- you feel rather bad for being cold towards him. but your body is way too exhausted to respond. maybe you should’ve brought some painkillers as well..

- ... or perhaps you could pay off your sleep debt on this trip as well. ahh… a faithful wish..

- that aside, you also found out you would be interning under anya. she was soft spoken, and overall, you have a feeling that you wouldn't mind sticking by her side for the next.. year.. or so.

- having a singular nurse for a 6-man crew isn't too bad. but now with her teaching you the basics, you think that you’re capable of taking some of her responsibilities. (you're glad to take some weight off her back)

- you agreed on weekly psych checks with the crew (much to swansea’s and jimmy’s dismay) so you’re ready to keep your journal very, very filled.

- the routine was simple. you'd wake up, check your stash of items which included - airtight sealed snacks which consisted of a lot of sweets, your journal, a lot of thrifted power banks for your ds to charge on, your ds of course, a taser, a gun, and a personal emotional support voicemail on one of your mp3 player - then go into the lounge for breakfast, and finally, follow anya around for the rest of your day.

- sometimes you would bump into swansea and daisuke while you're passing by the utility room. and sometimes daisuke stops you for a small talk

- you eventually warm up to him. he's awfully smiley for someone close to your age, then you find out he doesn't go to college, and your question was quickly answered. 

- after a bit more small talk, you realise that you both were from the same town (what a small world)

- he mentions that he missed eating a specific candy - it’s called sunshines, silly name, you know - which you could only get from the bakery near your town, and you look away, fully knowing that you had the same candy in your bag.

- .. oh well. maybe another time.

- your interactions with swansea was rather limited.

- you both see each other and simply choose to ignore each other's existence.

- perhaps it's a part of you that sees through him. and he sees through you too. 

- silent understanding is a better word, perhaps. 

- you both only talked on the few occasions where you were there to take your psychology evaluation tests. he keeps complaining about daisuke and whatnot - but you know that look in his eyes. that’s not hate.

- after a while, he stops complaining - resorting to grunts and short answers. perhaps tired of attempting to trick you.

- quick yet blunt. the way you prefer things to be.

- you sometimes offer to read out daisuke’s psych test to him. only the parts where you deem as okay to say, though. mostly parts where you ask how his internships are, and him answering with praises towards swansea. 

- swansea refuses each time, but you read some of them anyway. when daisuke complains about swansea though, you read out his response to "how was your day". which mainly consisted of his joys of the day.

- swansea pretends he doesn't like it. once again, you know that look in his eyes.

- you thought he would be done with acting around you, but you suppose, ego can't be beaten sometimes

- you really like their father-son-like dynamic. you just hope daisuke doesn't let the old man's words get to him.

- after doing curly's and jimmy's psych test (jimmy needed a lot of convincing in order for him to take these seriously) you find that they were friends that go way, way back.

- you're unsure if curly could see it, but you could tell that jimmy admires him. that man admires curly a bit too much. you're familiar with situations like these. you just hope it won't tip towards envy. oh who you were kidding - it's almost too late now.

- you finally realise why you felt uncomfortable around jimmy after the first month.

- the envy and self depreciation is overwhelming, and you truly applaud anyone who holds a conversation for longer than five minutes. (maybe you should applaud yourself as well)

- self destruction is the only path he’s going towards, and you would help him if he wasn’t so.. stubborn. for a lack of a better word.

- but overall, this trip isn't too bad so far. right?

- its been a month and a half. 

- you and anya had formed some sort of sibling relationship..? 

- it started with her seeing one of your stickers you had placed on one of your items, and her nostalgia of having them on her cup as well.

- you both began to talk more from there. continuous stories about your daily life (which isn’t the most pleasant) but you got to know each other better from there.

- you were immediately stunned at her determination and passion for nursing. - and perhaps, after this all, you could plausibly send a recommendation in for her. 

- you didn’t tell her that, of course. you weren’t able to guarantee it, and you wouldn’t want to give false hope.

- you find that she was incredibly good at games after you lent her your ds. and all of sudden, her competitiveness on game board nights didn’t look so out of place after all.

- she had encouraged you to get out of your shell.. despite many protests from you. (it.. sort of works…?)

- curly, after more interactions, seems to be a great guy. great leader, optimistic despite.. well. everything else, really. you’d be miserable if you had to live outside of earth half your life.

- the very brief interactions you have with him were pleasant. 

- a bit concerning to think he’s carrying all this responsibility for all these years though. perhaps a little rest could do - is what you said.

- he only responded with a chuckle, and a ‘it is what it is’.

- there isn’t any other response you would’ve expected from him, anyway.

- you just hope that once he does find the end of this career, he’ll find something more.. lighter.

- maybe a baker. maybe a craftsman. maybe something else entirely, all you know that this whole leadership thing might end up causing him more harm than good.

- which is what jimmy turned out to be. 

- whenever it’s your turn to do jimmy’s evaluations, you always groan a bit. 

- you show a bit of interest, and he goes the mile to talk about himself. not quite boasting - but very much putting others beneath his shoes to seem… “relatable” to you.

- you only nod. you give him a small phrase from time to time, but otherwise - it’s all nods.

- the issue with jimmy is not his current state itself. sure, it’s annoying and insufferable - but what’s dangerous is next stage of what people like him become.

- envious. greedy - dangerous. you wouldn’t trust him even if it kills you.

- and so you don’t. you try to keep a wary gaze on him.

- another thing you find that swansea is quite similar to .. other people in your neighbourhood.

- he talks about how he’s been struggling with alcohol, on a particularly hard night.

- you listen. he keeps talking. you add on his statements a little bit from time to time, to show that you’re listening. otherwise, you’re dead quiet, eyes staring at him, and his eyes towards the false sky by the medical bed. 

- he complains to you more than anything though. about.. nearly everything. about how daisuke won’t do this properly, about the food for dinner, about him being unable to see his wife at home, how he won’t be able to see his kids grow up, and you, in exchange, tell a bit about yourself.

- he understands you; and you understand him too. you were both trapped under the same situation at the start of your lives, and you, by chance, managed to escape. 

- he makes a joke about it. it leaves a bittersweet taste in your mouth. 

- …although.. this meant that you were a bit privileged in the way swansea treated you. 

- this showed in the way that he allows you to mess with his toolbox (maybe you were the only other person who was interested in his toolbox, aside from daisuke..) 

- he teaches you the basics, and daisuke often chimes in from what he had studied before from swansea as well.

- you often thank the two for the lesson, and swansea seems a bit more smug after, whilst daisuke seems more proud of himself.. and due to that, you are more than welcome in the utility room.. from time to time.

- ah, speaking of daisuke..

- he’s incredibly sweet. you wonder if he particularly needs the sweets anymore from how overly sweet he is. you do end up sharing your snacks either way, and thankfully, he’s obedient enough to only request one sunshine every one to two days. (at this rate, you might have just enough to last you the entire.. 9 months? close to 8 now..) 

- he also plays games, and showed you his own ds, stickers of pokemon, doodles, and small little things indicating his other interests were plastered all over it - which you end up telling anya. 

- this is where anya’s willingness to help you connect with others come in. 

- not before long, you, anya, and daisuke managed to make a post-game night activity.. which included playing the ds until you all reach the specific curfew anya had set (thankfully, she did set one, otherwise daisuke would’ve tried to beat you until his fingers fell off.)

- there was one time that he was too tired, and you had to drag him back into his room. with an arm slinged around your shoulder, and anya following behind in your footsteps, he stayed asleep the entire time.

- he wasn’t drunk. hell, do you even have alcohol in the ship? the answer was no. unless you were to drink cleaning alcohol.. but point is. he didn’t get drunk, and he was just that tired. you wonder what kind of new training he’s been trying to do.

- you tried your best to drag him, but once you were beside his bed, you had only one choice.

- you slowly placed him back into his bed, lifting his leg up to remove his shoes - before placing him properly on the bed.

- anya had already excused herself back to her room, and with the silence (and occasional snores from daisuke), you find yourself observing daisuke’s room.

- pink weights, a very, very patterned backpack, and a charger. those were the main things that caught your eyes. 

- .. and you had his ds in your hand. so out of kindness, you went over to plug in his ds for him.

- before you left him alone, you checked up on him for the last time. he’s sleeping soundly. you try to close the door as silently as possible.

- you hope he continues to dream tonight.

- so far the worst thing you had to witness from the male was the absolute mess that was his laundry pile. 

- it started when you - whose room was beside daisuke’s - smelt something akin to the concentrated scent of the (sun) detergent.

- you knocked at his door, and only a muffled wait echoes inside, before you could hear him tripping over his own feet to open the door.

his eyes meet yours - looking quite frazzled. He’s heaving slightly, perhaps a side effect of rushing to get the door.

“h..hi!”

the detergent smell only got stronger, and it became very much obvious that he.. had a little accident with the laundry. your focus flickers between the mess he is, and the mess behind him.

“...did anything happen?”

he chuckles nervously, avoiding eye contact.

“oooff course not! and i almost forgot that i had to- uhm- change my sheets! so see ya soo-”

right as he was about to shut the door, you had kept it wedged open with your shoes. his eyes actually meet yours, again, and you tilt your head slightly, arms folding.

“i can smell it from the hallway. let me help you.”

“no- i can do it!”

you send him a particular stare. it seems to make him falter, and you sigh once more.

“let me help you.”

he looks hesitant, his grip on the handle weakening. a moment passes, and then he closes hie eyes, and smiles at you - defeated.

“alright then... but don't be angry!”

- as you step in the room, you’re met with the sight of.. very, very many bubbles on a stack of clothes. 

- and when you look back at daisuke, he only offers you a guilty grin, and a look that said i told you so

- that’s the story of how your fingers managed to smell like detergent for a whole week, and the event that hallmarked your almost instant closeness with daisuke.

- ever since the laundry accident, you two have been together quite often.

- every lunch break was simply just sitting alone, until anya or daisuke approaches you. If anya approached first, then daisuke followed. if anya couldn’t join you in the lounge, then you’d go to the medical bay, and if you’re allowed in - daisuke would follow right after.

- everytime you manage to get spare time to lounge on the extended sofa, daisuke immediately joins you. the only difference from before was the way he joins you on the couch. sometimes by closing your eyes from behind and asking you to guess (even when it’s apparent), sometimes by jumping or launching himself to the spot beside you.

- every now and then, he scares the living soul out of you. he laughs until you start chasing him with a cup in your hand.

- he tries his best to make you laugh. the best he got so far was an amused stare from you.

- apparently, it’s good enough for him. he cheered the entire night you made that expression.

- on his psych tests, he talks a lot.

- there’s.. not much time to talk to you. you only realise once he starts to talk about his week, instead of his day. 

- nowadays, you focus on getting your analysis done. how each person’s behaviour have changed - in general, of course. you’re not going to mention their every detail, and rather, you ask them to fill out little questionnaires (which is the only detail you’re submitting)

- usually, before you got close, he mainly talks about his day, and only his day. 

- sure you spent a lot of time together, but since this was the only chance to be truly alone, it’s usually the time that he opens up.

- he barely does so. but it’s much easier to see his emotions on his face, with far more vulnerability. 

- it starts from little things, like how he really thinks swansea might get tired of teaching him. or maybe the way jimmy got mad at him because he accidentally spilled oil on his shirt. 

- then it turns to things in his house. how he missed his mother, how he missed seeing his cat, how he felt like he had to take this internship because he felt like he had to prove something.

- you offer him hugs from time to time. he accepts them. 

- sometimes you feel tears soak into your shirt. you try your best to comfort him after. whether it would be rubbing circles into his back, or offering him an extra piece of sunshine - you tried your best.

- you know you aren’t the best at that. but if this is all you can do, then what else should you do?

- sometimes you wonder if this ship really does need to be human automated. 

- what costs do they cut by hiring human workers instead? innovation? investment in machinery? why keep people on barely minimum wages in a random ship being sent out to space, with minimum facilities and minimum safety and security? isn’t it a safer bet to go all out with machinery, then turn a profit later down the line - rather than close to losing this hunk of metal nearly every other day?

- then you look into the lounge in what is assumed to be “six in the morning” - you don’t trust the clocks. everything feels fake - and get hit by literal beams of sunshines in your way ( read : curly, anya, and daisuke laughing together )

- maybe you can keep those thoughts for another day. you ate.. pretty okay pancakes that morning.

- perhaps the only thing you wished you could change, in definite terms, was the way jimmy lingered around anya’s room. 

- so stop it you did. or at the very least, attempted to stop it, you did.

- that’s the main reason you ended up sleeping on the front of anya’s room. (with her permission, of course)

- the reason you proposed to her was, and you quote, 

“i keep on having dreams of cockroaches.” 

- anya looked at you half asleep. the other half concerned, worried, and confused. you shuffled in front of her room, your hand hauling a mattress and your blankets awkwardly.

- .. she finally allowed you after a small while. maybe its because you looked pathetic. maybe its something else. you do not know, and you don't want to know.

- you eventually placed your mattress back into your room (due to the lack of space, you should’ve expected that - your only reason was that you did this on a whim), and slept on the floor, facing the walls with your blanket covering you like a silkworm.

- it’s not comfortable. thank god the tulpar has - at best - subpar air conditioning, otherwise you’d freeze to death in this huge metal hunk in space.

- it successfully warded off jimmy though. or so you’ve observed. so you really don’t mind the way your back aches every morning. 

- maybe you should bring more pillows…

the door behind you croaks slowly, and slowly- your eyes peek open, looking up at a dimmed figure. an anya-looking dimmed figure. you immediately relax back in your blanket.

“..nightmares again?” she looks concerned about your sleeping position. for a moment, you feel bad for lying.

you purse your lips, and nod at her.

“.. yeah.”

she watches from the door, and nods at you. 

you think she finally figured out that you knew about jimmy’s recent lingering. she spares you a thankful glance, and sends you a soft nod.

“..goodnight. thank you.”

you nod back, and once the door shuts back, you slump further. as much as these metal walls allow you, anyway.

you hope you dream this night. maybe of home, or of something sweet. maybe of something better.

you aren't sure what that something is. but you hope you find it soon.

but, oh, who were you kidding.

you never got the chance to dream. this night isn't any different.

you slip into a void; your body awaiting tomorrow.

i hope u enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it .. !

initially started off as a daisuke x reader insert but i went too far and suddenly i have this.. this...... series.... will get more into the romance after i world build a bit more.. if you have any specific requests for the reader in this au, don't be afraid to shoot something in my ask box!

extra notes: in order of youngest to oldest, i hc daisuke to be youngest, then reader, then anya, curly/jimmy and swansea !

sun & moon dividers by : @/saradika daytime screen & medical bay from mouthwashing

[charles-leclerizz]

🏎️ ๋࣭ ⭑ cat-quette

🏁 Pairings : Max vertsappen X fem! Reader

🏁 Warnings : fluffy as hell, suggestive language and one suggestive scene.

🏁 Word Count : 2.7k words (2742 words)

🏁 Summary : Sometimes, a family of 4 needs just one more addition, so you and your boyfriend venture out to find the perfect new daughter

🏁 translations via radio comm below

🏁 credits : word dividers by @gigittamic

🏁 Music player : Winter blossom by Dept, Ashley blossom, nobody like you pat

“Come on Maxie, please” You draw at the syllable at the end of your plea, dancing in your spot in your shared kitchen, “Imagine it, you, me, jimmy, sassy and a third cat, we could name it, kibble or something.”

Max looked at you with a worried expression, one brow arched in questioning, “Kibble?” He continued to knead the bread dough in front of him, slamming his hands into the mixture that sat fluffy and aerated on your marble counter, “You just demonstrated why we can’t get a third cat, you’re gonna make it depressed in the first 2 days.”

“Now that’s mean.” You cross your arms over and harrumph, going over to the stove to stir the searing vegetables in the pan.

Out of the corner of your eye you see him wash his hands free of the dough that remained on his fingers before going back to the olive oil doused ball and placing it into a wooden bowl, he then laid a fresh white cloth over the dough and transferred it into the fridge for it to rise for about 40 minutes.

You then felt his presence behind you, then you felt his hands snake around your waist and then his head followed suit, nuzzling into your neck before placing a soft kiss on your skin, “I’m sorry schat.” He mumbled, tickling your ear with his soft tufts of blonde hair.

“Y’know,” You paused briefly in between your enraged sauteing, stainless steel spatula in the air, “I don’t think you are.”

“But I reeeaaallly am.” He copied your elongated whine, shifting the two of you by guiding you side to side, oscillating gently as though you were the dough and he was trying to knead the forgiveness out of you, “How about this..” he started, laughing inwardly when your ears perked up and you attempted to discreetly turn off the gas so you could spin in his hold. Looping your arms around his neck you prompted him to continue, “We could go to the pet shop tomorrow.” He murmured, looking up into the air, despite your vice like grip on his head as though the particles would answer him and not your already giddy form in front of him.

“Yeah?” You danced slightly in his hold, wiggling your hips like a hyper child, “You promise?”

“You can drive pista if I forget.” He nodded solemnly.

“Oh shit-“ You lean back, impressed with his dedication, “You really are sorry”

“dat is alles wat nodig is?” He blubbers, eyes wide for dramatic effect, as you would like to call it, “Your standards are low, real low my love.”

You furrow your brows, playfully hitting the underside of his head before leaning up to kiss his grimaced lips, "What else is new? How else do you think this happened?” You gestured between the two of you.

Max hummed, leaning down to kiss your cheek before trailing down to your jaw, he grinned against you when your breath hitched and you pulled him closer, if that was possible, “I wooed you?” He tried; you snorted in response.

“Yeah, you wooed the heck out of me, yee old Maximillian Verstappen, one foul scowl at me and bam four years later here we are.”

You yelped when he bit your neck.

“Hmm, I’m just so so handsome?” He couldn’t hold his laugh back at this claim.

“I first met you when you were a scrawny 18-year-old, but yes, you are very handsome.” you coo at him whilst caressing his face.

Max hummed in agreement, “I know.”

“You’re not going to compliment me?” You asked.

“Hmm…nope.” He shrugged.

You gaped at him for a beat before lunging at his face and taking the soft skin of his cheek between your teeth, holding it there and growling playfully. Max yelped and laughed at your pseudo-attack before pushing you away and taking your lips captive with his as revenge, “You’re much prettier than me geliefde.” He added before his tongue slipped between your lips.

“Max... the food” You helplessly remind him when he finally detaches from you, only to lift you into his arms and move to the left to sit you down onto the counter, slotting himself in between your pliantly open thighs you draw him closer despite your objections.

“Fuck the food...” He murmurs against your ear, kissing behind it and trailing his mouth lower and lower until he reached your baby blue, silk camisole. Max looks up at you briefly, his bottom lip just barely breaching the collar of your flowy top, you stare down at him eyes heavy and threatening to flutter closed with every hot breath of his that fanned over your chest.

You bring one hand away from his neck to drag down his face, your middle finger just barely anchored on his mouth, pulling down his lip until he stopped your journey south and took the soft digit into his mouth, “Yeah, that sounds fair.” You breathed out, already jumping back into his embrace, preparing yourself to slam the bedroom door closed with a breathless laugh.

“You forgot, didn’t you?” You ask him, plugging in your hairdryer and drawing out a large barrelled round brush from the containers that sat on your counter. The bathroom door was wide open as you waited expectantly for Max to emerge from the walk-in closet on the opposite side of the room, the only divider being your bed and a half-length wall.

“What? What did I forget?” Your boyfriend looked down at his phone, waiting for a calendar event to remind him, when that didn’t happen, he looked up at you.

You remained still, just flicking on the contraption in your hands and drowning out his obliviousness with the sound of luke-warm air drying your hair.

“Babe?” he tried once.

“Babe?” He tried again.

“Babe?”

You finally snapped, large brush still wrapped in your hair as your hand pressed your silky strands into the bristles and hair sprayed the volume into it, “Max, you’re shitting me, right? That’s it, keys to the pista.” You ordered, tapping your nail against the counter space next to you.

That’s when the realisation hit the driver in front of you, his face blanched and he rushed up to you, “See, I didn’t forget I conveniently played stupid?” He tried; eyes slightly lit up with hope.

“You’re right-“ You start, snorting at the badly veiled victorious expression on his face, “You are stupid.”

By this point, Max had reached the threshold of the bathroom and had slumped forward, the only thing stopping him from face-planting the expensive tiled floor were his hands braced on the doorframe, “Not the pista, baby, anything else.”

“What about one of your Aston Martins ?,” You faced him, tearing your eyes away from your reflection in the large mirror ahead.

Max’s face fell at the mention of his beloved collection of Aston’s, “Okay, so maybe we take the Pista…”

You pouted at him, swiping on a generous amount of pink lip-gloss, “I knew I should’ve been on top last night.”

The rollers in your hair fell one by one as you undid them, smiling cheekily to yourself when Max choked on his own spit, “What’s that meant to mean?”

“Don’t ask questions, that you don’t want to know the answers to.” You pass by him in the doorway, pinching his cheeks together and pecking him quickly on his duck-lips.

“So it’s the Pista?” He hollered from his place, craning his neck to where you had turned into the closet.

He heard you snort, and the rustling of fabric before you answered him, “It’s the most expensive Aston Martin you own!”

You ended up taking the pista.

But your resignation was soon vindicated when you broke the speed limits the whole drive from your apartment to the best pet store in the city.

“Heer, red mij” Max prayed, hand braced on the ceiling of the sports car as your heeled foot pressed even harder onto the accelerator, the car purred happily whilst you cruised along the mountain road, the view of the crashing waves almost therapeutic, until the serene scene was broken with a-

“BEN JE NET 150 KM/U BREKEN? HOE?” A shaky finger followed promptly afterwards, tapping the speedometer a few times.

You blow a nonchalant breath through your lips, “You’re a formula one driver Maxie, why are you so scared?”

“We don’t normally drive like hooligans, it’s precise and practise-“

You interrupted his rant by miraculously increasing your pace and speeding down the empty highway ahead, Max slammed one hand against the window as an ungodly screech erupted from the 3-time world champion.

Safe to say, you arrived at the pet store in a safe condition.

Never mind that Max had rushed out of the passenger’s seat to press a kiss to the hood of the car, before running to a few nearby bushes and attempting to uproot his breakfast.

Though, with no such luck of evacuating the contents of his stomach, he waddled over to where you stood unimpressed albeit also concerned to knit your hands together, pecking your forehead a few times he allowed you to guide him into the shop.

“Oh my god Maxie, look!” You squealed, rushing up to the large glass display of a dozen or so hamsters, the various coloured furballs rolled around the spacious enclosure as you cooed down at them.

Max bent down as well, but soon caught eye of the “HALF OFF” sign and stood straight, “’M not sure geliefde, maybe not hamsters, jimmy, and sassy like the taste of em.”

You nodded once, wrenching your gaze away from one of the hamsters that you had already grown fond off to hold your boyfriend’s hand once more, “You could be less crude about it.” You mumble inwardly.

“You’re telling me, about being crude.” He scoffed down at you before looping his arms around your neck and tucking you into his side.

The pair of you continued to walk around the retail, swerving into and out of isles whilst browsing each selection of pet that could potentially enter your home.

Max had to continuously drag you away from the more exotic selection that there was on display, that was after you had convinced the store clerk to wrap a domestic snake around his neck.

“You look like you’re about to throw up” You giggle, pointing your phone at Max, who’s face had turned an alarming red as the docile snake snuggled up to his thick neck.

“I’m about to faint, no shit right now, this is not babygirl schat, this is abuse.” He hissed, quoting what you had said to convince him in the first place, he brought one shaky hand up to pet the reptile, a laboured “shhh” noise escaping the dutchman as though he were coercing the docile animal to not strangle the life out of him.

Luckily, the over-amused store clerk unwrapped the snake from his shoulders before Max simultaneously shit himself and cried.

“Maxie, look” You rushed over to another enclosure, this time, it was a large area on the floor walled off with pet gates, plush pillows were propped up against the black grate along with tumultuous cat toys spread across the floor. Luckily, to match the mess, there were at least 15 kittens, all different breeds, some were sleeping on their tummies, fluffy eyes closed as their four limbs spread out oddly whilst others were being entertained by other enraptured patrons.

“Hi guys,” You whispered, tucking your skirt beneath your thighs as your crouched down again, coming eye to eye with the adorable animals, “You’re so cute,” Max had joined you promptly, hitching up his jeans as he lowered himself next to you, large blue eyes following the cats.

A worker noticed the two of you and left their previous customers, a couple, much like yourselves, the two people cuddled a soft brown kitten who nuzzled into their shared embrace.

“Hi! Can I help you?”

You looked up at her, smiling, “My boyfriend and I were looking for a new addition to our family, I would love to bring home one of these guys.” You gestured to the large play pen.

“Well, that’s just lovely! But the cat’s choose you guys, not the other way around.” The middle-aged woman laughed, her olive skin stretching as she unlocked the gate and ushered the two of you in, “That’s how me and my husband got our cat.”

“Oh...” You stood eerily still as multiple odd fluff-balls came and sniffed your heels before trotting away, “What if none of them like me?” You whisper to Max, who already housed at least 3 kittens by his feet, “Nonsense, you just have to be patient darling.” He kissed your cheek and rubbed your arm comfortingly.

After about 10 minutes of you gingerly attempting to welcome a companion into your embrace, a smaller, more fur decadent kitten walked out from behind the small playhouse that sat in the far corner of the enclosure. It cocked its head curiously at you before yawning and shaking its back, and rump, its snow-white fur oscillating with its movements.

“Hi honey,” You whispered, bending down to allow it to clamber sleepily into your lap, you squealed internally, standing up once again with the kitten safely embraced into your arms, its back angled comfortably on your forearms and head rested on your chest whilst it blinked slowly at you, pale green eyes shining happily.

Max grinned serenely at the pair of you, watching as you brought a hand up to rub gently on the pink nose of the animal in your care, “I think you just got chosen.” He laughed quietly, his chin resting on your shoulder as he gazed down at the sleepy cat.

“Her name’s pookie.” You declared giddily as you approached the car, holding out your hand for the keys to the expensive car. Max stared at you, fear evident in his eyes.

“You can name her whatever you want, but you are not driving the car, we have precious cargo now,” He petted pookie behind her ear.

“Fine, come here baby.” You barely pouted, already taking pookie and her small, shell shaped bed into your arms. She rested peacefully in your lap, purring contently as Max hauled the other pink cat care items you had bought, into the back seat.

“So, I just had to buy you a cat?” Max inquired; hand braced on the back of your headrest as he backed out of the parking spot.

You lean over the dash to kiss Max’s stubble covered cheek, “It’s so easy to please me, my love.”

“Well….” He squeaked, looking over at you suggestively.

“You perv,” You smacked his forehead but laughed nonetheless, “There’s children present.”

“So, Max?”

The driver perked up at his name, flipping the microphone in his hand to answer the question, he leaned back against the white sofa where he was joined by a few other of his fellow colleagues all of whom turned to the questioner in the sea of reporters.

“We’ve heard you have a new addition to the family?”

Max laughed into the mic, before adjusting the cap on his head and nodding, “Very true yes, the missus and I just got a new kitten into the house.” He plucked out his phone and held up a photo of you and Pookie, both of whom were turned away from the lens to face the large window showing of the Monaco coastline.

A flurry of ‘awws’ escaped the people present, and Charles who also swooned at the photo spoke into the mic, “Do you guys have a name yet?”

“Kind of, she wanted to name it ‘pookie’ and I just think that when I talk about the kitten, I’ll sound like an idiot, it doesn’t feel right with my accent.”

Charles popped his mouth open, “Wait- you call me pookie?”

Back at home, you had snuggled up to Jimmy and Sassy, both of whom had settled with laying their heads onto each of your legs whilst you held Pookie close to your chest, caressing her cheek, “That’s what you get leclerc.” You snarl at the screen, “Stealing my boyfriend, leaving our children fatherless, you whore.” You joked, filming your commentary to send to Max, who on the television screen was already justifying the similar names between his new daughter, and his work wife.

Pookie blinked up at you, and you swore, that she smiled at your determined face.

📻 Kcccchh.... come in.... come in...translatiion available...over

📻 Kchh...Dutch....to english....over

dat is alles wat nodig is ? - that's all it takes ?

Geliefde - Love [r]

Heer, red mij - Lord, save me

BEN JE NET 150 KM/U BREKEN? HOE? - DID YOU JUST BREAK 150 KPH? HOW?

schat - Darling/Love/Babe [term of endearment]

[clockwards]

some dumbass interactions based on my fic series (beginning with the music is getting stranger). no real spoilers, just stupidity

Joel: get in loser, we're going shopping

Cleo: this family is a fucking nightmare

Martyn, the nightmare: ikr

Grian: i dont like you at all and resent the suggestion id have such baseless feelings. Anyway, wanna be immortal with me forever?

Pearl: i licked it so its mine

Jimmy & Lizzie: thank gods we're such beacons of sanity and stability. Btw we killed a guy.

Mumbo (a zombie): existence is a prison. i had the gentle repose of death torn from me by the very people i love, and it is my burden to bear as much as it is my blessing.

Skizz (also a zombie): woo! yippee! weeee!

Etho: i need no sleep. Im cold. Im stone. Im tough. Im not sleepy, bdubs, im NOT, STOP-

BigB: i speak for the trees. They say... AAAAAHH HELP AHHH ARGHGGGG AAAAAHHHHH

Scott: they say anything else?

BigB: no thats it.

Martyn [reality TV interview style]: everyday, i wake up to horrors beyond your comprehension. Like, I can comprehend them, but you cant. Sucks to suck i guess.

Ren: what if i knew you because i was you? What if i lived within your very muscle and bone, understood every ache from the inside out, became you in all the ways that mattered, and loved you through it all?

Martyn: cool i guess. Look at this snail i found.

Gem: i have experienced realities and dreamworlds beyond your imagination. I have witnessed you love, hate, kill-

Pearl: was i cute?

Gem: what.

Pearl: when you witnessed me. Was i cute.

[noirsdoll]

Loving your dad Curly x daughter Reader!! Can totally imagine Reader being super possessive of her daddy, he's a single father and HOT so he gets so much attention from women so she has to make sure nobody tries to woo him (like Curly would ever care about any woman besides his daughter). She would probably harass poor Anya just for working so closely with him, tells her "Maybe instead of flirting with my dad you should concentrate on getting into medical school." Daughter Reader is literally like Jekyll and Hyde, face of an angel and behaves like one most of the time, but if anyone even tries to make a move on Curly she's making their lives miserable (Curly thinks it's cute)

cw: father/daughter incest

thank you for the ask!! i loveeee devious readers they’re so fun to write. and curly is definitely a dilf sighh he’s just one of those guys who ages like fine wine.

curly would def find some way to get you on the tulpar. he’d pull strings the same way daisuke’s mom did. he just doesn’t trust you alone for that long. totally. not because he likes the way the pony express uniform looks on you. and how you keep good company on his piloting shifts.

yeah i agree i feel like curly wouldn’t take reader’s bitchy treatment of anya seriously, he’d just consider it a “catfight” or something. and like the second curly turns his back you just go from the cutest thing to an actual supervillain like the crew are all so done with you and you could not give less of a fuck.

jimmy would come forward (he’d be the only one brave enough) and be like “your daughter’s a fucking narc.” and curly would say “ohh she just doesn’t get out much” and dismiss him. your discontent for everyone but him is almost a natural reflex. you’re the only one that understands him the best, that’s actually a good fit for him.

if curly does acknowledge it, he clearly doesn’t mind. he lets you share a bed with him and spend every waking moment together. least he can do, right?

[fortytworedvines]

A Tricki Surprise

Combining prompts from @pers-books and @ckreutzer-67 Helen and James have a second baby, Tricki Woo in a surprise move

“I have to go to London for business,” Mrs Pumphrey says to Audrey when she opens the door. “I don’t want to risk Tricki. Francois!” she beckons her chauffeur and he steps forward, Tricki-laden pillow carried carefully. “I know I can trust you to look after him.”

Francois places Tricki and pillow into Audrey’s arms and shoots her an unreadable look. “We’ll do our best, as always,” Audrey says reassuringly. Mrs Pumphrey looks bereft to be leaving him behind. “And Cedric?”

“Cedric is staying with my land girls,” Mrs Pumphrey says. She ruffles Tricki’s head fondly. “Cedric enjoys being out on the farm with them. Darling Tricki isn’t quite so keen, are you?”

Tricki gives a deep sigh, and the women chuckle.

“I’ll be back in a week, Mrs Hall. Tricki, be good!”

There’s a glint of moisture in her eye as she turns away.

Audrey closes the door and puts the pillow down on the floor. Tricki eyes her. She eyes him right back. “Jess and Dash are in the kitchen,” she says. “Off with you, now!”

He heaves another little sigh and trots off the pillow and down the hall, plumed tail waving.

Audrey has barely picked up her broom again, when she hears a shout from the corridor.

“What the devil?!”

She grins. “Tricki’s staying for a week, Mr Farnon,” she calls.

“Blasted animal!” He comes into view around the corner looking flustered.

Audrey stops sweeping and leans on her broom thoughtfully. “I thought you rather liked him, these days.”

“I nearly broke my leg tripping over him,” he retorts. “As if we didn’t have enough to do!” She doesn’t even have to say anything now, just raises her eyebrow at him and he subsides. “I know, I know.” He sighs, sounding so similar to Tricki that Audrey laughs, and heads into surgery.

“Hello Tricki!” That’s James. “Whatever are you doing here? Is something wrong?”

“He’s a dog, James,” Helen says patiently. “He can’t talk.”

“I know that,” James protests.

Audrey imagines that is he holding Tricki up, inspecting him closely. She’s done her sweeping for the day so she stows the broom in the cupboard and heads down towards the kitchen. James is, in fact, holding Tricki up to his eyes. Tricki appears to be bearing it patiently – he is a good natured thing, Audrey thinks, which is for the best given how spoilt he’s been in his life.

“He’s come to stay for a week,” she says. “There’s nowt wrong with him, so you can put him down now.”

“Oh,” James says sheepishly, and returns Tricki to the floor.

Tricki makes a beeline for Helen, sniffing around her curiously. And then he sits on his haunches and yaps at her.

“I think someone wants a cuddle,” Audrey says.

Tricki yaps until Helen picks him up and then he licks her face enthusiastically. “Tricki!” she exclaims. “I like you too, but is this necessary? He’s never been like this before,” she adds to the humans. “Maybe you wear the same scent as Mrs Pumphrey,” James suggests. “You might smell like home to him.”

Helen shoots him a look. Audrey thinks she probably doesn’t like the idea that she and Mrs Pumphrey, who is nearly old enough to be her grandmother, might have the same taste in perfume.

“That’s enough for now,” Helen tells the dog.

“Where’s Jimmy?” Audrey asks, suddenly realising the little boy is absent.

“Jenny’s taken him for a walk. A toddle, anyway,” Helen says. “We have a child-free hour so…” she nudges James, “shall we?”

“Oh! Yes!”

They hurry away and Audrey watches them with a grin. “Have fun!” she calls, just before they vanish. Then she turns her mind to their evening meal. Jess and Dash watch her peacefully as she chops and dices, humming a little to herself as she does.

A door slams distantly, and then a howling noise starts.

“What on earth?” She ditches her vegetables and heads through the house. She reaches the stairs at the same time as Mr Farnon.

“Are you dealing with this?” she nods upwards.

“If I knew what this was, I might be able to give you an answer.”

She rolls her eyes at him and they go upstairs together. The howling continues, and they find Tricki at the closed door to the bedsit, howling plaintively.

“Tricki Woo!” Mr Farnon says sternly. “Whatever is the meaning of this?” He scoops the little dog under his arm and they go back downstairs, where Mr Farnon deposits the dog, and then manages to snatch him back up as Tricki immediately dashes for the stairs again.

“What has got into him?” Audrey wonders.

In the end, they have to shut him in the kitchen, and he sits dolefully at the door, waiting. Audrey watches him as she prepares dinner. Even when she gets the tiny piece of beef that she is stretching between the household and Jess and Dash come sniffing, he stays at his post.

Jenny comes in with Jimmy when their allotted hour is almost up. The little boy toddles straight for Audrey. “Audy, Audy,” he says – Helen’s trying to teach him to say Aunty Audrey, but he can’t manage it yet.

She scoops him up. “How’s my favourite boy?!” she asks him, cuddling him tight.

“Don’t let Tris hear you,” Jenny warns with a laugh. She sniffs the air appreciatively and Audrey smiles at her.

“Stay for tea, love. There’s plenty to go around.”

“I’ll set the table,” Jenny says with a thankful grin.

Audrey sets Jimmy in his high chair and finishes the last touches of the meal. Jess and Dash come to sit at his feet – they know where the best pickings are to be had. “Da da,” Jimmy says, reaching for Dash.

Audrey chuckles to herself. James had been so thrilled when Jimmy started saying da da, only for it to become clear fairly quickly that he was referring to the dog, not his father.

Tricki remains at his post, and when Audrey opens the door to call the others for dinner, he scarpers off immediately. She watches him go and shakes her head.

Mr Farnon arrives first, then James, then Helen with Tricki at her feet. “Ridiculous dog!” she says, trying to keep from tripping over him. When she sits down, he jumps straight on her lap. “No, Tricki!” She pushes him off and he jumps up again.

Audrey looks at Mr Farnon, who is looking thoughtful.

“What’s got into him?” Helen cries as Tricki sniffs happily at her stomach.

Audrey glances at Dash and Jess; remembers how they had been so fascinated by her during her first pregnancy. She looks up at Mr Farnon and he nods slightly.

“Helen, love…”

Helen looks at her and Audrey nods towards Jess and Dash. Helen’s puzzled for a moment, then comprehension dawns on her face. She scrunches her forehead in thought and Audrey can almost hear her counting. Then she catches James’ hand. “I think he can sense it…” she says quietly. James looks puzzled. It often takes him a minute to catch on, Audrey thinks. Helen takes James’ hand and presses it to her stomach. “It’s early days – very early… but…”

James’ face lights up. “Another baby!”

Helen nods, her eyes a little teary.

James hugs her tightly – as well as he can over Tricki.

Audrey meets Mr Farnon’s eyes and he smiles at her. Another baby. Their happy family is growing again.

[classicrocknlove]

~Jimmy Page Fanfiction~

Spread Your Wings

“I’m just looking for an angel with a broken wing…. But somehow, they always seem to fly, fly away…”

-

Chapter Four

Night of July 26th, 1973.

-

Cynthia’s P.O.V.

The driver arrives at the bar and I spot Richard out front talking with a couple of fellows. I approach him and he notices me, gaping at me from across the narrow sidewalk in front of the bar.

“Cynthia?” He asks, almost incredulously. He looks at me up and down, once, twice, three times. I suddenly feel uncomfortable and my usual shyness creeps up my red neck. “You look… just bloody tasteful! Come, the boys are inside.” His “compliment” furthers my shyness, I didn’t like the feeling he gave me. But, I stride next to him with my head held high despite it.

As I walk in next to Richard, I am met with the smells of cigarette smoke, people, and sounds of music throughout the bar. It is dimly lit, but as Richard escorts me through the crowds of people hanging around, I see the gang of Led Zeppelin at a corner booth.

Robert’s golden locks are what catches my eyes first. He is sitting in the middle of the booth, Jonesy on his left and a bleach-blonde young woman on his right. She was stroking his hair as Richard tugged me forward.

“Ah, lass! You’ve arrived in one piece! And my God, look at you!…” Robert exclaims at me with his crooked smile, making everyone in their huddled crowd turn their heads toward me.

I throw a quick, but nervous smile to Robert and I spot Bonzo making his way toward me.

“Cynthia! What kept you so long? I’ve almost drank the bar out of bloody whiskey!” Bonzo comes raving towards me and pulls me into an embrace.

“Now, how about that inte- interview?” Bonzo slurs as he pulls away and I laugh.

“How about we sober up a bit and hit it hard tomorrow when you are fresh?” I ask and my poor choice of words made Bonzo ‘woo-hoo’ to the boys. At that moment, I spot Jimmy. He is standing next to the booth with a drink in his hand, the whiskey in his glass only leaving a gulp left.

“‘Hit it hard’ tomorrow? Well you do look wonderful tonight but I think ol’ Pagey would have my head!” Bonzo laughs and my eyes widen.

Jimmy is staring at me, his eyes dark and his face is taut. His gaze never leaves my body as he looks at me up and down with hungry eyes and I quickly look away. Even in this dim light his eyes are a stunning emerald green and he looks like a painting. I was suddenly very conscious of my look, the boys pointing out my new and risqué look tonight did not help. My cheeks began to blush.

“Oh, don’t mind him. But you do look fantastic!” Jonesy added and Robert nods. “Love the frock. Ravishing!” Robert smirks and I return the smirk. My anxiety is through the roof and my face feels as red as a tomato but I insist on keeping my cool.

There are several other individuals at the table whom say their greetings, excluding Jimmy, who refused to even say a word to me. But I am not surprised. Another one of his mood swings, I suppose.

A barmaid suddenly appears to the booth, her breasts practically spilling out of her top and her shorts not leaving much to the imagination. She asks what I’d like to drink and I try to order a soda, and the boys scoff.

“Come on, Cynny. At least order a gin and tonic or something, it’s our night off!” Robert insists and I shake my head. I haven’t drank in a while and my head is already spinning. My anxiety has calmed down a bit after being introduced to the other bar-goers at the booth and the mingling has become enjoyable. But, Jimmy’s constant looks to me are driving me wild.

“Enjoy yourself, Cynthia. You are not clocked in now, are you? Unless you are still up for an interview?” Bonzo asks, wiggling his eyebrows back and forth. Then a certain voice perks up and makes my anxiety levels go through the roof.

“If she doesn’t want a drink, then she doesn’t have to bloody order one.” Jimmy states and takes a sip of his own. What the hell is that about? Is he… trying to put up for me? Or is this another one of his twisted backhanded offerings? He is probably insinuating that I can’t handle a drink.

“I think the lady can speak for herself, princess.” Bonzo retorts and I snort a laugh.

“Oh, piss off.” Jimmy replies and scoffs. He gives me one last look, almost a ‘warning’ type of look and begins talking with a needy red-head next to him. Who the hell does he think he is? I will do what I want! He hasn’t spoken one word to me since I arrived.

I am bewildered by Jimmy’s comment and amused by Bonzo’s dismissal.

Maybe I do need a drink. That’ll show him.

“Tequila Sunrise, please.” I simply request and the woman nods and scurries away after receiving a slap on the butt from Bonzo. She is probably just as confused as I am with the exchange that just occurred between Jimmy and I.

My drink is brought back very quickly and the alcohol, which the drink is very mostly made up of, my God is it strong, goes down my throat with a bit of a sting. But, I get used to it and my mood lightens. Robert and Jonesy have wandered off somewhere, Bonzo is talking up some cute brunette at the end of the booth, and I am left in the middle. I was having a conversation with a really handsome young man by the name of Gasper. He had the classic teddy boy hairstyle, that, really, went out of style about two decades ago. But he was very kind and had a manly, handsome face with light stubble. His build was very muscular, not really my type, but I was enjoying his company. That is until I felt familiar eyes burning into my skull like wildfire.

As Gasper continued on rambling, I looked over to see Jimmy staring at me intently, a bitter look on his face as he was in a similar situation himself. A different girl than earlier, of course it’s always a different girl, was rambling in front of him, her legs practically splayed over his lap underneath the table of the booth. A pang of jealousy roared through me and I found myself wanting to be talking to him instead of Gasper. But, Jimmy, for some reason, hates me, or wants to make my stay with the band as miserable as possible, or whatever, so I will keep my distance. Besides, I was quite enjoying the feeling of letting loose and forgetting about Jimmy’s hundred personalities and Jack’s constant phone calls about how he misses me.

I order another Tequila Sunrise, then another, and find myself feeling quite dazed, but in a good way. My shyness has completely diminished and I am feeling loose and alive. Is this why these rockstars drink so much?

As I was sipping my third drink of the night, Gasper got up to go to the bathroom and I was left alone in the booth. Suddenly, a certain heat was beside me and I figured Gasper was back from the restroom. I look to my left and there sits Jimmy, his same stare burning into my eyes. He’s wearing a dark purple silk shirt and black pants, looking gorgeous as ever. Ugh.

“How many have you had?” He inquires, taking the glass from my hands and looking at its contents.

“What’s it to you?” I spit and grab my drink back, taking a generous gulp. Why does he even care?

“You’ve had enough, don’t you think?” Jimmy states and I shake my head. What is his problem?

“Leave me alone! Unless you’d like me to pull out my notebook and ask you some questions.” I tell him, wanting to scream but keeping my voice to an inside volume. I didn’t want to attract unwanted attention. I wanted to make the reason know of why I am still here with the band. To do my job. But Jimmy was not making it easy for me. I actually really enjoy myself with the other band members, but Jimmy has put such a damper on this experience with his mood swings and his undiagnosed, as far as I know, personality disorder.

He opens his mouth to say something else but is interrupted by Gasper reappearing from the bathroom and sliding his brawny body around the booth to scoot closer to me. I silently thank the Heavens that Gasper is back because now, hopefully, Jimmy will leave me alone and tend back to his date.

But, my prayers were not answered as Jimmy wraps his arm around the back of the booth where I am sitting and he scoots closer to me. Gasper gives a confused look, but doesn’t protest. Jimmy’s daunting glare at him said it all.

“All right, mate?” Jimmy spits at him condescendingly, taking a swig of his whiskey, giving Gasper a chance to assert any dominance toward me, but Gasper knew better. Gasper shakes his head, shrugs, and grabs his drink that was now sweating on the walnut wooden table and scoots out of the booth, disappearing into the larger crowd in the middle of the bar.

I immediately move away from Jimmy’s embrace, but it only makes Jimmy scoot closer to me and he places his hand on my thigh.

“What are you doing? Are you trying to ruin my night?!” I exclaim at him. He is the most confusing person I have ever met. What exactly does he want? I already feel my body getting hot with anger.

“Is it working?” He smirks and lifts his hand to take another gulp of his iced whiskey. I rip the glass out of his hand and shove it to my lips, drinking whatever contents were left of it. The dark liquid coursed its way down my throat and the burn from it was excruciating. I slammed Jimmy’s glass back down onto the booth’s table.

To my surprise, he isn’t pissed. He is smirking at me by the time my eyes were done being glazed over from the two shots of whiskey that I just gulped down.

That damn smirk. His face will one day be permanently twisted into that smirk as much as he presents it!

He moves impossibly closer to me and his body heat is radiating off of his skin and my eyes suddenly became glued to his open chest exposed by the unbuttoning of a few notches of his shirt. My mind and body feel like they are swirling and tingling. Jimmy’s body, his hand, touching me is not helping. I need to get out of here.

“Would you move?” I ask him impatiently. He shakes his head.

“You owe me a drink, love.” He tells me and lifts up my sweating Tequila drink and takes a sip. He makes a disgusted face.

“What?” I ask him and he explains. “Too sweet.” He informs me and then, “but I’d bet you are sweeter.” He throws the line out, surely to try and impress. I roll my eyes and turn towards him, the alcohol coursing through my body heightening my confidence.

I get really close to his ear, one of my hands darting up to cradle his jaw, my other hand pressing down onto his thin, lean thigh- dangerously close to his…

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I whisper hotly in his ear, pressing harder onto his inner thigh and he groans and reaches for my waist. His groan brings back that familiar tingle in my lower area only he has brought on and I’m immediately warm with thrill. Before he can trap me, I quickly retreat and fastly scoot my body around the round leather seat. I hurriedly get up from the booth, my body swaying slightly and I grab onto the back of the booth to steady myself. I walk away quickly, not wanting to look back at Jimmy or else I’d be too tempted to stay put and let him touch me.

I decide to go to the restroom to relieve myself from the hot and steady influx of rowdy individuals around the bar. I spot Robert and Jonesy and I give them a quick wave, though things started to become a blur.

I wander around the circular bar and finally find the bathroom. I walk in and I’m met with a group of girls, all look to be less-than twenty-one. I recognize the one girl who was sulking in the middle of the group, she is the one whom I particularly had negative thoughts about. She’s who had scurried out of Jimmy’s room earlier while we were departing the Garden.

“He’s been an asshole all night!” She exclaims to her friends, not even acknowledging my presence, not caring who might hear her sobs. One of her friends blots her tears and she continues as I make my way into a stall.

“You should’ve seen what he did earlier. He brought me into his dressing room, I thought for a shag, but he just sat there! Literally not even looking at me! I tried to get him off with my hand but he refused to let me! Now he’s just being a downright prick tonight!” She tells her girlfriends and I immediately smirk to myself. My slight jealousy and curiosity about what may have happened earlier in the day when she raced out of his room with that nasty look on her face has now been resolved. I feel a bit better knowing he didn’t have sex with her… today? I’m sure he indulges in sex more than the typical person. Certainly more than me. He probably has had more sex in one day than I have had my whole life.

I’m shuffling in the small stall, it’s barely big enough for one person. I hear the girls leave after their confessions and I am left alone in the dimly lit bathroom.

Suddenly, the door of the bathroom flings open again, the faint sound of music and people filling the bathroom before the door slams shut. I am not concerned in the slightest until I hear the click of the loud lock on the large swinging bathroom door. My eyebrows furrow but I shrug and don’t give it a second thought. Maybe it’s a lady who’s come in to throw up or change clothes and needs privacy. God knows. We’ve all been there.

I finish my business and straighten my skirt and blouse out. I make sure to fix my cleavage, mimicking the waitress we’ve had all night and allowing my top to expose my breasts a bit more. I am suddenly feeling showy and hoping that I might see Jimmy at least one more time tonight.

I unlock the bathroom stall door and slide out, careful not to rub against it in the small space. My head is down as I finish fixing my skirt and when I look up I can’t help but gasp loudly.

There is Jimmy, leaning against the large vanity stretching the long wall of sinks in the bathroom with his arms crossed against his chest. His dark curls are bound upon his shoulders and I can picture him fixing them just so in the mirror behind him before I came out of the stall. Why is he always surprising me?

“Jimmy, what-“ he puts his hand up to silence me and begins to stroll over to me.

“You little siren, you. Thinking you can leave me all rattled in our booth and I wouldn’t come after you?” His accent is like butter and my feet are planted in my spot in front of the stalls. Had he been following me to the bathroom? I feel paralyzed as I watch him walk and close the distance between us. Dear God, he is so hot.

“You wanted that, though, didn’t you? Me to chase you, as I’ve been doing all bloody day.” He whispers roughly in my ear as he gathers me in his long, strong arms.

“Jimmy, you-“ I was ready to correct him, ready to tell him to fuck off, ready to tell him that he has been an asshole all day, chasing is not the correct word. I feel like I lived a year in one day when I look back at all that has gone on. I’ve never felt this way toward any band member of any rock band before. But, Jimmy has had me on my toes all day.

Even during my interviews with Jonesy and Robert, all I could think about was how Jimmy would answer my questions. How his perfect lips would form each answer.

Good God, what a shame I’ve turned into. Rockstars are not my type. They never have been. I’m not the typical wild, head-banging girl who fits in with this kind of crowd and their lifestyle.

As I stand here, listening to Jimmy say the things I’ve never heard any man say, let alone say to little-old-me, I doubt my abilities to continue this job further, successfully. I begin to think I should have never taken this job. It hasn’t even been an entire day with the band and I’m already struggling to keep up.

Jimmy tears me out of my overbearing thoughts with his delicious voice once more.

“You’ve been teasing me all night. Walking in like you did without me even knowing you’d show…” he leans back, one hand trailing down my torso, his eyes wandering from my gaze down my body, “wearing… this. Talking with that stupid git all night. I’ve about had it.” He plays with the lace fabric of my top between his fingers, moving down to the hem of my skirt, his words sending shivers down my spine.

“I mean, I thought the chaste look at the studio was nice on you, but this get-up is… makes you look like the little hedonist I knew you were.” He rolls out each sentence with such precision, his voice is like notes from a harp.

I look up at him as he towers over me. His lips are slightly parted, breathing me in and I catch his eyes. His green stare back into my blue and I am completely and utterly taken aback. He leans down, still keeping our gaze, and stops only a couple of inches away from my lips. Almost asking permission, waiting for me to finish the picture. And I do.

My lips touch his, and it seems like a fire begins to crackle underneath us. He leans into the kiss, wrapping his arms low around my waist and turns me around, walking me back to long vanity littered with sinks and paper towel.

Our hot and heavy kiss continues as he leans down and wraps his large hands around the backs of my thighs and lifts me up onto the vanity. He places himself between my legs, his hands mapping my body.

I gasp as one of his hands moves to the back of my neck, and he takes this opportunity to deepen our kiss. It felt like fireworks were going off around us and the heat of the dull bathroom was becoming a lot to bare. One of my hands was planted on his shoulder, the other in his hair, feeling his thick dark locks. I pulled a bit on his hair and he moaned lowly against my mouth, the moan radiating throughout my entire body and suddenly I want to do anything I can to hear it again.

We pull away after a minute or so, mainly to catch our breath, and he gives me a look of desperation, like he’s been wanting this for so long, though he hasn’t even known me for twenty-four hours.

He plants one more kiss on my lips, still breathing heavily and then simply mutters, “Ah, god.” As if he was truly seeing the man upstairs. Another kiss. “Cyn.” The utterance of the nickname only my family calls me sounded heavenly coming from his lips. We lean forward to continue our hot and heavy moment until a furious banging on the door interrupts us.

“Unlock the fuckin’ door, we are holding our piss out here!” A heavy New York accent bellows from outside the door and Jimmy’s and I’s eyes widen and we laugh as he helps me down from the countertop. We scurry over to the bathroom door and I unlock it, immediately met with glares of four young girls, a couple of them I was familiar with as they were hanging around the booth earlier.

“Get a fuckin’ room next time!” One of the girls exclaim and pushes passed us into the bathroom, letting the door slam behind them. As we walk down the corridor, I realize just how long the hallway is to the restrooms. As we walk, Jimmy takes my hand in his from behind and I suddenly feel dizzy. The alcohol begins to hit me like a speeding truck and I stop in front of him, his torso hitting my back. I lean against the wall, feeling the room spinning and realizing I really need to take a breath. Jimmy’s kiss, touches, and sweet scent, along with my already overwhelming intoxication of three tequila sunrises and whiskey, makes it hard to stay still.

“Cynthia?” Jimmy ponders and his face is a pale blur in front of me and I shake my head, but to no benefit. My vision does not get better and I feel like I’m on a very fast merry-go-round. I feel his hands go to my waist to steady me.

“I need to go home.” I muster and rub at my eyes, surely smearing a bit of eyeliner along the way.

A flash of worry runs across Jimmy’s face and he drags me away to where Richard is, across the bar. The walk, with Jimmy slightly tugging me along like I’m a small child, feels like a mile as the room begins to spin more.

“Rich, she had too much. I told you fucks to not push her.” Jimmy shakes his head and Richard denies the allegation, blaming it on the rest of the group.

Jimmy soon grabs my hand again and states simply, “let’s go.” I follow Jimmy out of the bar, trying my best to keep up with him. His long legs carry him fast and swiftly to the awaiting limo.

Jimmy instructs the same driver I had earlier to take me to where he retrieved me from and I hum in agreement. I rest my head against the cold window and close my eyes. Dear lord, even the darkness behind my eyes is spinning.

The car ride is silent and I am suddenly self conscious, wanting to hear Jimmy’s voice again. Is he angry?

I look up at him and he’s staring out of the window. Hearing my shuffle, he looks over and gives me a crooked, closed-mouth smile and shifts his back again to his previous position to look out of the tinted glass. I sigh and do the same.

Soon we arrive at my building and I look up into the brick structure and back at Jimmy.

“See you tomorrow.” He simply states. He stares at me as I nod and begin to get out. I am disappointed he doesn’t try to kiss, hug, or even touch me. I feel like the little eighteen year old in the bathroom, scorned by Jimmy’s coldness. I step out into the brisk summer air and walk into the night, into the lobby area.

I look back once inside safely, but the limo has already departed from its spot in front of the pavement leading up to my apartment building.

I furrow my eyebrows and trudge up the stairs to my awaiting, lonely bed… surely to dream about him.

—

A/N

Just couldn’t help myself! Here’s chapter four❤️ enjoy! PLEASE heart and comment! Love the support so far! Chapter five will be coming SOON SOON SOON!

[amethystfairy1]

Hello I have glamor head-canons to share!! Woo! I’d be happy to hear your opinion on it! (It’s mostly based on blazeborns)

uhh hope you don’t mind this absolute wall of a text… :>

I’ve been imagining blaze rods as a sorta way to keep track of how much glamour the little guys have. For example, I imagine Grian has five, pearl has three, jimmy has two, tango obviously has three, Sausage probably has four since he flies using it, x has one, oli, fwip and pix has two etc.

basically;

With one (blazerod amount of glamour) subspecies with more complex glamor abilities will barely be able to use it (like x). Although those with more simple abilities are just fine (you’ll be able to fly okay with wings but not great). They can hide small things (like dog ears and face wings etc) for a while (3-5 hours) medium things (like a dog tail) for a short while (0.5-1 hours)

With two you can use most subspecies specific abilities. And hide medium sized things for awhile and larger things for a short time

Three is the most common amount of glamour for most subspecies. The glamour can hide things a little longer, and use all but complex subspecies specific abilities without trouble. (An exception would be blazeborns, tango can use fire and stuff but he seems to struggle)

With four you can change small aspects of your appearance for a short period of time and you can shoot small amounts of glamor with assistance from enchanted objects.

At Five is an unusual high amount of glamor for most subspecies (non witches) here you can shoot glamour without an enchanted object (although having an enchanted object greatly improves it) and change medium parts of your appearance for a longer time period. You can even turn invisible for a short period of time. (As shown by grian)

Six is witch territory you can brew some simple potions and cast simple enchantments. You can also shoot a beam of glamour with an enchanted object but it will exhaust you.

Seven is pretty common for blazeborns and witch subspecies. Blazeborns need more glamour to use their subspecies specific trait (fire) and with seven blaze rods they can easily start fires and craft beads without needing any breaks. You can shoot beams of glamour with an enchanted object without completely exhausting you, but you need to recharge before you can do it again.

Eight is almost unheard of for non witch subspecies, those that do have it are usually undead as they need glamour to stay animated (half alive?). You can shoot a beam of glamour without any assistance but draining glamour that fast without an enchanted object can be dangerous.

Nine is for as far as the undercity is concerned, impossible for non witch subspecies to have and be alive. Not unheard of for undead subspecies, but about half of it is needed to stay undead so they are more like those with five blazerod amount of glamour than anything. At this level you are a great witch and powerful enough blaze to be a pyre of a small community.

With ten or more blazerods blazeborns are well off as pyres

At this point even for a blazeborn or a witch the glamour can be a bit of a struggle to control, but with proper training, dedication and care you can become a truly powerfully witch

Blazeborns with twelve blazerods are said to be truly blessed, it is very rare and those blazes that do have twelve blaze rods are trained specifically to become pyres. That training is especially necessary as with this much glamour a reckless blaze risk to burn themselves up entirely. There is a children story about a blaze born who burned everything until they were nothing but walking burned bones with a blue flame that will haunts defiant children.

I am curious if you’ve made a way to measure glamor? (Either in-universe or just for you to keep track of it) If not feel free to use and modify my head canon however you please!

(I do have some more things, especially on the undead and glamour burnout/overcharge, idk about you but I like there being consequences for powerful beings)

Whoa, this is super cool! I love seeing headcanons and thoughts on this!!! I will say if we're using the hypothetical "blazerod" measurement, i think you're shooting a few people pretty low. Jimmy and Fwhip in particular. If we follow your cool little list here, Fwhip is probably more in the 4-5 range, at Grian's level, and Jimmy is around 3 while Pearl would be closer to 4.

Fwhip changes his appearance to look completely human despite being very non-human in appearance in 'Sightline Sunrise' and he can run while still invisible even when he was a little kid as we see in 'Blessings in Disguise' when he steals Pix's wallet.

Jimmy turns himself and Scott invisible in 'Gutterline Sunshine' and the ability to turn invisible for very short periods of time (2-5 minutes) is actually a skill that lands more in the 3 range, and it's just that the duration of maintaining the invisibility is the tricky part.

I am quite curious what you mean by the undead folks using glamor to stay alive? That's such a cool concept! I don't confirm or deny any of this because y'know...spoiler territory 😅 but I LOVE seeing this sort of stuff, I assure you!

I love the childrens legend about the spooky burning skeleton blaze-born 😆

I don't really have a specific measurement, because I like to think of glamor as comparable to athletic ability. Some people are more gifted with certain athletic skills, but that doesn't mean someone less gifted can't work really hard and BECOME as good. Glamor is a skill, it requires practice just like anything else. The thing is people are born with a ceiling to their abilities that no amount of hard work can get them to break through. That ceiling is the sheer amount of glamor they have! So someone with weak glamor, like X or Tango, just aren't going to be able to train themselves up to the same skill set as people like Grian or Shelby!

Thank you so much for sharing this! Hopefully this makes sense! 💖

[calciumdeficientt]

hi if i dm you my oc for bully can u do the headcanons thing? also for characters how would you feel about doing hal from the greasers? he’s my favourite and i think he’s pretty underrated

Feel free to send your oc over! I’m am genuinely obsessed with other people’s ocs everyone puts so much thought into them, in the meantime please enjoy my Hal hcs :3333

If Hal has no fans I’m dead. They could never make me hate you Hal Esposito

Hal Esposito hcs

- one thing i alway hate hate HATED about Hal’s voice lines was how rockstar trivialised his fatness and made it the crux of his personality because haha fat = funny but i like to think what it actually stems from is an overbearing mother trying to make up for lost time

-the greasers canonically live in and around the most underdeveloped and deprived areas of bullworth, so its not a particularly bad shout to assume Hal grew up poor, maybe with very little to eat, hence now… its all he can really think about

- also in the voice lines from when jimmy has to fight to earn the greaser’s hideout, Hal offhandedly critiques lucky for not enjoying his preferred channels “what, natural disasters and war footage doesn’t do it for you?” So i also like to imagine Hal is kind of a big history buff, and in true boy fashion he’s particularly fixated on the history of war and combat

-secretly, i reckon he enjoys building model planes and tanks, its basically what he does in the shop but way cooler (at least to him) and the fumes are just minorly different. He knows everything there is to know about the models too, including their life size counterparts. He can tell you everything trom the caliber of the fixed guns, the length of the wheel tracks, the wingspans, even down to the serial numbers and the dates they were patented and discontinued. Shit’s majorly impressive.

- his jacket was his dad’s, him and his mum split when he was pretty young, right after his little sister was born but Hal didn’t really take it so badly, at least not as badly as his parents had initially expected. He was old enough to know what divorce was, and somewhat wise enough to see that it would be better for both parents if they cut ties. The jacket is very very vintage and is falling apart from dry rot. Hal used leather softener stuff on it and re-lined it countless times but it still looks freshly plucked from a dumpster. Not that he minds, he thinks it makes him look rugged

- speaking of his little sister, he really loves that little girl. It’s where most of his money goes, he’s so incredibly soft for her. If he could have it his way shed have every single penny out of his pocket to spend on whatever she liked. She’s only little, barely in grade school but its still all but confirmed she’s going to bullworth when she gets old enough(based on the little kids I’m assuming is a mixed middle school/high school but that’s a an entirely different can of worms) , and god help everyone then. If he’s not already graduated, Hal will literally knock his grades down low enough to not graduate if it means he can hang around and protect his sister for just a smidge longer.

-this kid is so fucking smooth, it comes in the greaser gauntlet, you’ve gotta woo the ladies (or gents, they’re delinquents, not bigots) to get in or you’ll make them look bad. Hal’s a real Casanova but he gets the piss taken out of him because his taste is a little… unconventional. He’s just ahead of the curve, and heavy on the curve. It’s all but confirmed he likes bigger ladies and honestly who are we to take that away from him?

- he does that dude thing where he’ll slap you on the back when he hugs you and he is STRONG. He’s got big calloused hands with crazy surface area that wind you for a good 20 minutes after a pat on the back. Best to avoid him on your birthday too, his birthday digs are LETHAL (is that a thing in the US its a thing inthe UK?)

[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (7 - Fix the Dead)

Chapter Summary: A conversation with Wanda about the twins’ rapid growth leaves you both struggling with guilt and loss. Clint’s attempt to contact you through a vintage radio ends in disaster, as Wanda tightens her hold on her fragile reality. Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 3.9k+ | Chapter Tags/Warnings: None

A/N: So, cat's out of the bag--Reader is actually alive. Three more chapters until we close part 1! // More author's notes here.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“Please, talk to me.”

You look over your shoulder. You've been pretending to sleep for almost an hour now, and just when you thought Wanda had drifted off and you could sneak out to spend some time alone with a book in the living room, she surprises you.

With a soft sigh, you turn to face her. The sight that greets you instantly breaks your heart. Even in the darkness, with only a sliver of blue moonlight seeping through the window to illuminate her face, you can see her lonely, anxious expression.

“What is there to talk about?” you whisper back.

Wanda reaches out to touch your hand, but you pull it back slightly. “I can feel your sadness,” she murmurs. “Is something wrong?”

You take a deep breath, burying half of your face in the pillow, your throat tightens and your eyes begin to sting at her simple inquiry into your well-being. You want to remain silent, but you know you can't—and shouldn't—hide your feelings from Wanda. Your efforts are superfluous anyway, she always has a way of seeing right through you.

You give a small nod, unable to voice out more.

Wanda sits up slightly, propping herself on one elbow. She knows it’s only a matter of time before the doubt and fear catches up to you. “Did I do something?” she asks softly.

You bite your lower lip, struggling to hold back the feelings swelling up inside you like a dam ready to burst. “It's the boys,” you finally say.

Her disarming green eyes search yours earnestly. “What about them?”

You sit up fully, pulling the blanket around your shoulders. “They're growing up too fast, Wanda. One moment they're babies—I’ve barely held them—and the next they're ten years old. I feel like we're missing out on so much.”

Wanda swallows hard. The twins’ childhood has lasted barely a week. Having lost her own childhood at a very young age, she knows the pain of missing out, and she desperately wants her children to experience a proper childhood. But here in Westview, Wanda has learned to look on the brighter side of things. At least you both have Tommy and Billy; you're a complete family. They're happy with who they are and what you have together as a family. At least you're here with her, raising them, no matter how short the time given to both of you.

She reaches for your hand again, and this time you let her hold it. “They're just exploring their abilities,” she says, repeating the assurances she's been telling herself. “You know how kids are…”

You don’t look entirely convinced by that, so Wanda sits up too, tightens her grip on your hand. “They're special. You know that their abilities make them different,” she points out.

“Different doesn't mean we have to skip their entire childhood,” you reply bitterly. “I didn't get to see their first steps, hear them say ‘Mama’ for the first time. Those moments are gone, and I can't get them back.”

Beside you, she tenses. You don’t need to look to know she understands—she wasn’t there for those moments with the boys either.

“Doesn't it bother you?” you ask. “Even a little?”

Wanda glances away for a second, quickly blinking back any sign of weakness before she looks at you again. “It does. But I've been so focused on keeping everything together that I didn't stop to think about what we might be losing.”

You take a deep, shaky breath, feeling bad for thinking Wanda didn’t care. She just seems so… tolerant of it all.

“I’m sorry,” you say, scooting closer and wrapping your arms around her. “I bet you wanted those milestones just as much as I do. Just…forget I said anything.”

Wanda leans into your embrace. “No, you’re right to bring it up. They’re missing out on so many things, too.”

“How can we fix this? Can we even fix it?” you ask.

Wanda understands it’s not about whether she can intervene—it’s about whether she should. She could easily use her powers to stop the boys from skipping ahead. But it’s the ethics of it that she’s wrestling with ever since she did it to you. 

“Maybe next time, I could… ensure things go differently?” she suggests carefully. 

The implication of her words doesn’t go over your head. “Wanda, we can’t do that,” you tell her softly. “I... I don’t think we should do anything without their consent, even if we think it’s for the best.”

Wanda pulls back in shame. “You’re right. I’ve been making too many decisions for everyone.”

You gently hold her cheek, making her look at you. “It's okay, Wanda.”

She fights the urge to disagree, to shake her head and confess that it's not okay. She's made these choices for you too many times, and it’s clearer now than ever how much she’s overstepped, compromising your privacy and trust.

“Maybe we can talk to them?” you suggest, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“You think they’ll listen?”

You offer her a sleepy, crooked smile. “I hope so,” you say. “But even if they don't, we'll be there for them, whatever they choose.”

You gently coax her to lie back down, and Wanda instinctively pulls your head to her chest, letting you rest your head against her. This time, you drift off quickly, soothed by the steady beat of her heart into a deep and dreamless sleep.

–

“Why keep it a secret?” Monica demands though not unkindly. She can’t wrap her head around why you’d choose to disappear and fake your own death, especially now that Wanda is back from the Snap. While it's undoubtedly a relief to learn that someone isn't dead, Monica can't help but feel disappointed by this turn of events.

All this time, they believed they could persuade Wanda to abandon her fantasy in Westview. But now, with everything she desires apparently right here, why would she ever choose to leave?

And more importantly, how would she ever allow any of them to leave?

“Also, how do we know you’re not lying again?” Darcy adds quickly.

Clint raises a hand to calm the room, nodding toward the television where you just appeared, very much alive. “Clearly, there's evidence that she's there,” he says calmly, pointing out the obvious. “Living and breathing just like the rest of us.”

Everyone quiets down, accepting his point. It checks off one of the many questions they've had since this whole thing started.

“She wanted it this way,” Clint then tells Monica, in response to her question earlier. “Believe me, it hit the kid hard, watching Wanda turn to ashes right before her eyes... I lost my family that day too. But at least I was spared from seeing it happen.”

Monica can only imagine what it was like. She was snapped away, but she counts herself lucky she wasn’t one of those left behind to endure the absence.

“Does Y/N know that Wanda returned from the Snap?” Darcy asks.

“Yeah,” Clint says. Everyone looks at him, expecting more, but it’s clear he meant to keep his answer short and sweet.

Jimmy taps his pen against his notepad. “So how did Wanda find her?”

“That's the million-dollar question,” Clint says, glancing back at the screen now showing only static. “Last I heard from Y/N was about five months ago. She settled in Reykjavik. Wanted to live a quiet life.”

Monica crosses her arms, the gears in her head haven't stopped turning since finding out you’re really alive. “And now she's in Westview, starring in Wanda's show?”

“Doesn't add up,” Clint agrees. “Y/N was determined to stay hidden.”

“Maybe Wanda found out Y/N was alive and pulled her into this reality she made,” Darcy says.

“Or perhaps Y/N reached out to Wanda,” Jimmy suggests.

“She wouldn’t,” Clint counters gruffly, dismissing the idea outright. After a second, he adds, “And if Y/N didn't want to be found, she wouldn’t be. She was always skilled at vanishing.”

Monica thinks it over. “But Wanda's powers have grown exponentially. Maybe she picked up on Y/N’s presence somehow.”

“Still doesn't explain why Y/N would play along,” Clint counters. “I know her. She wouldn’t agree to this.”

Darcy shrugs. “Unless she’s being controlled by Wanda.”

Clint clenches his jaw. “Y/N's strong-minded. It'd take a lot to manipulate her. Besides, Wanda wouldn’t do that to her.”

“Clearly,” Darcy scoffs. Clint’s lips press into a thin line, struggling to hold back a retort to that.

Jimmy flips through his notes. “From what we've observed, she seems... compliant. But there are moments where she looks almost aware.”

“You noticed that from the show?” Clint asks.

“Not from the show,” Monica clarifies, standing up. “From me.”

Clint gives her a puzzled look.

“Oh, I forgot to mention—I’ve been inside the Hex.”

“You were there? How did you manage to get out?” Clint asks, both horrified and a little impressed.

Monica sighs. “I mentioned something that referenced the real world. Wanda didn't like it. She literally threw me out of town.”

Clint runs a hand through his hair, processing this new information. “So, she really is controlling everything in there, and anyone who challenges that gets expelled?”

“Exactly,” Monica nods. “And now that we’ve found out that the real Y/N is in there with her, it looks like Wanda’s got everything she wants. That throws a wrench in our plans.”

Clint rubs his chin thoughtfully. “And your plan was to...?”

“To...” Monica trails off, suddenly realizing how naive it sounds. “...talk her out of it.”

Clint furrows his brow and lets out a noncommittal “Hmmm.”

“I know how it sounds,” Monica says, a hint of color rising in her cheeks. “But I thought if I could just reach her, reason with her, maybe I could get through. I've lost people too—”

“We all have,” Clint replies. “Though maybe not to the extent she has.”

“Parents, brother, best friend, lover...” Darcy ticks off Wanda’s losses on her fingers. “That's pretty much every key relationship in a person's life.”

“So, what do you suggest we do?” Jimmy asks, turning to Clint, who looks like he’s been hit with a freight train over the last five minutes. Overwhelmed would be an understatement—he probably needs an Advil after this conversation.

Clint exhales sharply, mulling it over while the others watch him, waiting.

“I'm usually a man of action,” he says slowly, “but sometimes it's better to try talking before jumping into a fight. Only, I don't think it's Wanda we should be trying to reach out to.”

“Then who?” Monica asks.

Clint licks his lips. “Y/N.”

–

“Where’s Sparky?”

It's odd to see the boys without their four-legged companion ever since they adopted him. He's been their whole world lately, and even Wanda spends her breaks between chores playing with the puppy. 

Billy and Tommy exchange uneasy glances. “He... ran out the front door,” Billy says, his voice papery-thin.

“What do you mean he ran out?”

“We tried to catch him, but he was too fast,” Tommy reasons.

You take a deep breath, trying to keep your frustration in check. “Guys, you can't just let your pet run off like that. What if he'd been hit by a car? I'm… I’m really disappointed.”

“We’re sorry,” they mumble, eyes fixed on the floor.

“This is why I asked you boys to wait,” you say gently. “Maturity doesn’t just come from aging yourselves up—it takes time and experience. Do you understand why that matters now?”

They nod, a little slower this time. “We understand,” Billy says quietly.

“Alright,” you sigh, unable to stay upset for long. “Let’s go find Sparky. He couldn’t have gotten far.”

The three of you set out into the neighborhood, calling Sparky's name. It's around four in the afternoon, with about two hours of daylight left—plenty of time to search. After half an hour of knocking on doors and showing neighbors pictures of the scruffy Jack Russell, you begin to worry that finding him might require a more extensive search. The boys look really upset, and you feel guilty about reprimanding them earlier, even though you knew you had to be honest about their oversight. Just as you're about to suggest checking the park behind the townsquare, Agnes appears behind the bushes on her lawn, cradling something in her arms.

“Agnes?” you call out, a sick swirl of hope and dread twisting in your stomach.

“I…” Agnes approaches slowly, her face somber. Even before she gets close, you can already tell that whatever she’s carrying is limp and motionless. “I didn’t wanna come until I’d wrapped him up…”

Wanda pulls up just then, fresh from the grocery store. She’s barely out of the car when she notices you and the boys, your somber expressions stopping her in her tracks. She hurries over and follows your gaze. “What's that?” Wanda asks.

“Found him in my azalea bushes,” Agnes says, sidestepping the question. You glance at the twins, your heart sinking at the sight of their scared, regretful faces.

“I don’t know how many leaves he ate,” Agnes continues, her voice dropping even lower. “I didn’t find him until it was too late. Tommy, Billy, I’m so sorry.”

The brothers break forward. “No! Sparky!” they cry, tears streaming down their faces.

Your eyes sting as you pull them close. “I’m so sorry, guys,” you whisper, holding them tightly. They cling to you, their tear-soaked faces pressed against your shirt, and for a moment, the world feels still. But a moment later, they pull back, exchanging a glance—a silent conversation you’ve come to recognize all too well.

“Wait,” you say in panic, quickly stepping between them, as if the act alone could stop whatever plan is forming in their heads. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Boys, stop,” Wanda says, kneeling down to their level. “The urge to run from this feeling is powerful. But growing up isn't the way to avoid getting hurt. It…it teaches you to face it, feel it…learn from it. Trust me, I know.”

Billy wipes his eyes. “But it's too sad,” he whispers.

“I—”

Tommy, unlike his brother, has fire in his eyes. “You can fix anything, Mom. Fix the dead,” he pleads.

“You can do that?” comes Agnes’ voice behind her. 

You turn to your wife, who seems struck silent by Tommy's request. You know Wanda is powerful, her abilities growing stronger by the day, but reversing the natural order of things—that feels impossible and wrong.

“Some things can't—and shouldn't—be fixed,” you say, looking from one twin to the other. “Some things are final.”

“It's not fair,” Billy mumbles, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

You swallow hard. “I know. But maybe we can give Sparky a proper goodbye.” Agnes takes that as her cue to hand Sparky back to the boys. Wanda stands a few steps away, her face unreadable. The twins clutch the dog tightly, tears streaming down their cheeks.

You reach out toward your wife. “Honey—”

But Wanda steps further back, her eyes avoiding yours. “I... I need to start dinner,” she mutters, turning away before you can say more.

“Wait, can we—” you start, but Wanda’s already turning away, disappearing into the house.

–

The boys try to skip dinner, claiming they're not hungry, so you play your ace and order pizza, knowing they can't say no to that. Wanda just gives you a wary look and announces she's heading to bed early. You make a point of eating a good portion of Wanda’s dinner—not just to avoid waste but because you genuinely enjoy her cooking—before you tuck the boys in for the night.

After making sure they're settled, you decide to check on Wanda. You find her in your bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed staring out the window.

“Wanda?” you say softly.

She doesn't turn. “Are the boys okay?” she asks quietly.

“They're handling it,” you reply, approaching the bed. “They needed you.”

She sighs, shoulders slumping. “I couldn't... I didn't know what to say.”

“You don’t have to fix everything,” you say softly, sitting beside her. Your hand rests on her shin, fingers starting to massage in slow, soothing circles. “Sometimes just being there is enough.”

When she finally looks at you, your breath catches. Her eyes are swollen, red from crying. You reach for her hand, but she keeps it clenched in her lap. “I feel like I’m letting them down. Letting you down,” Wanda says quietly.

“Are you kidding? You’re an amazing mom to our boys. And the best wife I could ever ask for.”

She scrunches her nose, clearly struggling to accept your words. You smile, finding it endearing how shy she still gets whenever you compliment her.

“Thank you,” she whispers, lacing your fingers together before kissing the back of your hand.

“Have you eaten anything?” you ask.

Wanda shakes her head. “Not really.”

“Well, let's fix that,” you say, standing up, pulling her with you. “Come downstairs with me.”

“But you've already had dinner,” Wanda says.

You smile. “There's always room for dessert.”

–

Darcy practically jumps out of her seat, pointing excitedly at the screen. “That's our shot!”

Monica, Jimmy, and Clint look up from the reports scattered across the table, their brows furrowed in confusion. Hayward’s team is still stuck, unable to figure out how to get equipment through the barrier without it being warped into something unrecognizable. The working theory is that anything era-appropriate to Wanda’s “show” might make it through intact.

“A shot at what?” Jimmy asks.

“Reaching Y/N through Wanda's kitchen radio!” Darcy exclaims, already grabbing her coat. The others scramble to follow her outside to where her equipment is set up, ready to put their old theory to the test. 

Darcy starts adjusting the dials on a makeshift transmitter hooked up to a vintage-looking radio. “If we can sync up with the frequency of the broadcast, we might be able to get a message through,” she reminds them, her breath forming clouds in the cold.

Clint eyes the gadgets cluttering the back of the truck. “Is this really going to work?”

Darcy smirks. “Well, considering traditional methods aren't exactly panning out, it's worth a try.”

“Someone should keep an eye on things from the inside,” Monica surmises.

“I'll head back and keep watch,” Jimmy volunteers, already walking back to the tent. “I’ll radio in if it works.”

Monica turns to Clint with a thoughtful expression. “Who do you think should try talking to Y/N?”

“I'll give it a try,” he says. “Maybe hearing a familiar voice will help snap her out of it.”

Monica nods. “Good idea. She trusts you.”

Darcy comes up to them with the transmitter. “Alright, it's ready to go. Just press this button when you're ready to speak,” she instructs, handing the device to Clint.

Monica grabs her radio and contacts Jimmy. “Agent Woo, what's the situation inside?”

“Wanda is sitting at the dining table. Y/N is alone in the kitchen, looks like she's preparing dinner.”

“Thanks,” Monica smiles slightly. “Perfect timing. She's alone—we can reach her now.”

Clint nods, stepping closer to the microphone. “Here goes nothing,” he mutters. He presses the button and speaks into the microphone. “Y/N, it's Clint. Can you hear me?”

–

You’re pouring two glasses of wine, waiting for dinner to finish heating, when the old radio by the sink crackles to life.

“Y/N, it's Clint. Can you hear me?”

You freeze, hand hovering over the glass. The voice is faint, broken, but you heard your name. 

And his.

Clint? Why does that sound so familiar?

You glance at the radio, its dial unmoved. Adjusting the antenna slightly, you try to wait for another message to come through, but only static follows. You resume what you’re doing, only for the radio to speak again—directly to you, it seems.

“Jesus, Y/N, wake up! Come on!”

Your hand trembles violently, forcing you to set the wine bottle down before it slips from your grasp.

Heart pounding, you stare at the radio. “Hello?” you whisper, not really sure you believe what's happening. It feels like a dream. Other than your wife, who could even make a radio do this? 

And why would they need to talk to you?

“Finally! We've been trying to reach you. Listen, you have to—”

Before he can finish, a sharp burst of static erupts. The radio sparks violently and explodes right in front of you. You barely have time to shield yourself as fragments fly past, one slicing across your cheek. Wincing, you touch your face and your fingers come away smeared with blood.

“What was that?” Wanda's voice calls from the other room. You can hear her hurried footsteps approaching, but you can’t seem to move or say anything, too shocked to respond.

She appears in the doorway, eyes widening as she sees the blood on your cheek and the smoking wreckage of the radio. 

“You're hurt!”

In a flash, she’s on you, her hands checking your face, her thumb brushing near the cut. She tries to wipe away the blood, but it keeps coming, stubborn and unrelenting.

“I-It's nothing…”

“We need to clean this up,” she says, too calm, like it’s normal to find you bleeding after a radio exploded.

“I'm fine, really,” you insist weakly, but she’s already fetching a cloth and pressing it against your wound.

As she tends to you, her eyes dart quickly to the destroyed radio. “These old things can be so dangerous,” she murmurs.

“Yeah…” 

Someone named Clint had tried to reach you. Who is he? And why did the radio explode? There are too many questions swimming in your head, overwhelming enough to numb the sting of your wound.

“You're shaking,” Wanda notes softly. “Maybe you should sit down.”

“Maybe,” you concede, allowing her to guide you to a chair.

She kneels in front of you, dabbing gently at your cheek. “It's not deep. You'll be okay.”

“Thanks,” you mumble absently. 

Wanda purses her lips. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You’re quiet for a second, unsure if you should tell Wanda what just happened or ask her about Clint. But something inside holds you back.

“I’m fine,” you say, reaching for her hand as she tends to your wound, and lightly kissing her palm. “Promise.”

–

Jimmy stares at the screen, where the words “We'll be right back!” are now plastered, replacing the live feed. The broadcast had cut out the moment you answered Clint's call with a hesitant hello. He runs outside, where Clint, Monica, and Darcy are huddled around the equipment. The cool air bites at his cheeks, but he barely notices.

“The broadcast’s down,” Jimmy says, slightly winded. “The second Y/N responded to the radio, it switched to a standby screen.”

Clint's hand falls away from the microphone. He knew it was a long shot with Wanda just a room away. “Now she knows we're trying to make contact,” he remarks grimly. “I’m sure Wanda will find a way to block any future transmissions from here out.”

Darcy doesn’t look up, her fingers flying over her tablet. She curses under her breath, scowling at the screen. “Yeah, looks like she’s already on it,” she mutters.

Monica rubs her hands together, exhaling into them for warmth. “Alright, clearly this isn’t working. We need a new plan.”

“Uh, guys…?” Darcy cuts in, looking around. “Is it just me, or does it seem way emptier out here tonight?”

Everyone stops, taking in their surroundings. Sure enough, the area is quieter than usual—just a couple of guards lingering near the barrier and not much else.

Jimmy crosses his arms, his eyes fixed on the tent serving as a Command Center. “Either everyone’s on break at the same time, or Hayward’s pulled them all into a meeting.”

They exchange uneasy glances, the same thought running through their heads. What’s this meeting about—and why does it feel like they’ve been deliberately left out?

[violetmuses]

Roman Reigns + Female Reader (Part 2) 🖤

Fandom: WWE 

Character: Roman Reigns 

@episodes-ff @expert-texpert @persethegawd @adriennegabriella @fearlesschimera @secretlifeoofmarpessa @mytribalnightmare @adoresmiles @blackgurlnhermoods @babybratzmaraj 🏷

Part 1

====

2021 

“What are you doing?” His strong voice calmed down when Roman called your hotel room one evening. 

“I'm going to bed. See you tomorrow.” Production would handle another episode. 

“See you then, but I can't sleep.” The Southern accent pulled forward again. 

“Damn. Sorry.” Your heart sank while time on the road could drain anyone. 

“Miss you.” His deep yet gentle tone offered kindness. 

“Ro…” You can't help smiling for just a moment tonight. 

“No pressure, but I won't lie about anything.” The response eased so many questions. Even on camera, chemistry burned. 

“Me too.” You'd stay honest because there's no other choice. “Hope you sleep better.”

“Thank you, Sweetheart. Good night.” His peaceful laugh ended the conversation. 

*****

Right before the scheduled match would take place, Samantha noticed you. 

“We've just started working, but our team had an important question.  Would you introduce Roman and The Bloodline?” Irvin smiled at you during rehearsal.

“No, thank you. You're the best.” You declined the chance and knew that Samantha worked so hard to reach this point. 

“Thank you, but it wasn't my idea.” Samantha held her heart. 

“Jimmy?” You nearly shouted and moved toward your “brother” Jimmy Uso. 

“Hold up. It wasn't me, I promise!” Laughing, Jim raised his hands to surrender. 

“Big Head!” Almost immediately afterwards, you walked to Jey and crossed both arms. 

“Hey! It wasn't my idea, either. I'm innocent, all right?” Jey chuckled back. 

“Then who?” You've quickly scrunched up your face.  

Incoming footsteps silenced various forms of chitchat and Samantha almost gasped out loud. 

Donning athletic styles once more, Roman entered as Paul Heyman trailed right behind him. 

“What's going on?” You looked at Samantha right away.  

“Roman called us this morning and wants you to do it.” Sam turned in the opposite direction before your voice could protest once more. “Love ya!” 

Holy shit! You thought. 

*****

Three roaring drum slams pulled this building into outright chaos and heroically ominous music would soon carry that future introduction here. 

Blue lights flickered throughout the large-scale environment and you simply waited.

“Ones” drifted up high this evening as you lingered next to Samantha. 

“I'm right here. You can do it.” Irvin encouraged your voice no matter what. 

“Thank you, Sam.” The gratitude only whispered in return. 

“Woo!” Fans cheered for The Bloodline just before you started speaking. 

“Ladies and gentlemen.” Your voice finally bolstered excitement. “Please welcome Special Counsel Paul Heyman, our undisputed  Tag Team Champions: The Usos. And acknowledge the Universal Champion, our Tribal Chief: Roman Reigns!”

Thousands of people shrieked beyond words and Samantha almost cried and jumped up, genuinely hugging you on camera. 

“For the first time since Samantha Irvin has debuted, this torch will pass.” Commentators welcomed your chance. “We can't imagine how she feels. What an honor it must be to share this incredible moment with the world.” 

This commercial break lined up as expected, but there's no better feeling in the world as you kept smiling. 

_____

“Before we start anything out here, I want y'all to know that this is the best night of my life!” Taking his microphone, Roman spoke up in that ring first. 

Out of nowhere, fans would start chanting your name.  

“Hear that?” Jimmy and Jey encouraged another special moment for you. 

“Gave us a hard time at first, but you just did the impossible.” Roman turned by your direction. “Our family doesn't quit and we are so proud of you!”

Countless fans would keep cheering even louder than before while longtime production cameras greeted your emotions near Samantha Irvin. 

“The Tribal Chief has spoken. Welcome to our program!” Announcers helped this impromptu moment before timing really continued on air. 

******

“It's all day.” Roman almost barked while locking down another opponent. “I'm a heavyweight! I'm the only man here. I'll lay on this little bitch all night long. 265 pounds of ‘can't nobody do nothing!’ 

“Stop looking at me like that!” You playfully nudged Samantha during the match tonight. 

“Now he's riled up. Don't get in trouble!” Sam joked about you and Roman, humored. 

“I haven't done anything.” You quickly defended yourself. 

“That's not what I heard.” Samantha fooled around. 

“If Jey started talking….” You shook your head at this point.  

“No.” Samantha refused. “I'm just telling you. This could be more than friendship.”

“TV banter doesn't count.” You've still known so much better. 

“You're sweating.” Samantha couldn't fight this laugh again. 

“Spotlights.” You fibbed a little, knowing that Reigns captured your attention. 

Ding, ding, ding! 

Even when Samantha announced Roman's victory once more, your happiness didn't waver. 

Nothing could stop The Tribal Chief. 

=====

2024 

“Oh my goodness! Roman Reigns has chosen vengeance over family to hit Seth Rollins with a chairshot.” Commentators pulled dramatics in the middle of Wrestlemania 40 against Cody Rhodes. 

“What?!” Shouting, you jumped up and tears reached your face while Samatha hugged you close. Thousands of fans yelled upon realization. 

Both anger and grief coursed through your veins. 

No one told you that Roman would take this chance near Rollins, thereby costing himself the championship title! 

“The WWE Universe is electric tonight!” Commentators explained more and more noise from this crowd with each passing moment. 

“Why did you do that? The Bloodline just pulled all that work for nothing! What is wrong with you?” You can barely process what’s going on, absolutely disappointed in Roman. 

One publicly dark moment on live television crushed four amazing years of power and kinship for his character. 

On the other hand, Roman dropped down, giving Cody enough time to line up his long-awaited victory. 

“Go, Cody. It’s your time. Finish the story!” That uplifting announcement pulled heartstrings around the world. 

“Here is your winner.” Samatha could barely hold back tears right now. “Our new Universal Champion: The American Nightmare - Cody Rhodes!” 

Dropping this microphone, Samatha opened both arms to hug you during Cody’s special celebration. Even loved ones entered the ring as fans cheered for this brand-new era. 

The Rhodes family would keep their legacy alive at last. 

_______

With Cody exiting the tunnel alongside his favorite people, you pulled countless emotions together and waved, definitely proud. 

“Congratulations!” You quickly raved this time around. 

Joyful cheering would move throughout this large hallway and Cody just smiled right before leaving. 

“You good?” Your “brother” Jimmy Uso turned the corner next and noticed drying tears right away. 

“No.” You sniffled. “Roman lied to me, Jim. I didn’t even realize that Seth would show up tonight.” 

“Damn. For real?” Jim can’t believe what happened, either. 

“Yeah. We scheduled the match for a while now, but Roman never warned me about the chairshot during rehearsal.”  You’re exhausted, sitting down in this hallway. “This changes everything.” 

“Hold up. Win, lose, or draw - you’ll always be my sister.” Jimmy still offered kindness to you no matter what. 

“Thanks, Uce. Ride safe.” Your heart just pulled this tired embrace before Jimmy stood and left tonight, keeping you alone with private thoughts. 

________

Marching footsteps woke up your senses again and you stood from the floor, trying to walk away before Roman could “defend” himself. 

“Baby? Princess? Listen, it was the show..” Nicknames and apologies echoed from his strong voice, but your heart dropped all over again. 

“Don’t talk to me. You lied, that’s not okay!” Tears flowed once more and your own voice struggled. “We promised each other…” 

“I know..” Roman’s tone nearly wavered. 

“Don’t talk to me for a while.” You can’t handle another argument and need to settle down. 

You stormed out before Roman could say anything else. 

*****

Soon enough, social media platforms blew up the Wrestlemania aftermath and your sister Naomi, Jimmy’s wife, pulled up her phone in this tunnel. 

“Look!” Naomi projected. You huddled with Samantha, outright curious while debates pulled everywhere between Cody and Roman. 

Yesterday, I mourned. Today is Day 1.  Out of nowhere, Reigns posted this shirtless treadmill video to signify his potential comeback.

“Uh-oh.” Your colleagues realized this moment, but you shook your head, walking away to hustle. 

Who knows what could happen next? 

****

Months later, SummerSlam reached calendars located everywhere and you didn’t know what to expect, just ready to watch absolute cinema. 

During this big-time event, the arena darkened as blue spotlights illuminated the space unexpectedly and your heart almost jumped out of place. 

No! When percussion thundered out loud and this valiant instrumental returned, you almost fainted in Samantha’s arms during this broadcast. 

“Holy hell! Our Tribal Chief Roman Reigns has returned for the first time since losing his crown at Wrestlemania 40.” Commentators encouraged that unbelievable moment. 

Sporting gloriously dark hair with one slightly greying beard, Roman scaled this black graphic t-shirt over his muscular frame and walked along in matching pants. His sneakers would march for battle once more. 

Just when this man could sprint to that ring, Reigns locked one glare for the first time since you left, almost turning in slow motion. 

Three unexpected words drifted by your path before Roman launched the downfall of Solo Sikoa. 

“I love you…” 

“Here we go, ladies and gentlemen.” Commentators relayed madness again. “Reigns just landed an incredible Superman Punch to Solo Sikoa!” 

Nothing makes sense. You’ve blinked tears away just before Roman leaned against the iconic ropes. 

“Ooh-wa!” Reigns lifted both arms and yelled to the ceiling, charging forward as thousands joined his famous battlecry. 

“The Roman Empire is back in place with an amazing Spear!” Cheering almost overwhelmed the announcement team, but you didn’t care, just grateful to watch everything plays. 

“I’m here! I'm back. Ya’ll need me now? C’mon!” Even production cameras welcomed back the Tribal Chief during this throwdown. 

Bawling your eyes out near Samantha, you lifted one finger towards the sky and would never look back again. 

[weclassybouquetfun]

With the release of AQUAMAN AND THE LOST KINGDOM, the DCEU has officially ended.

You could never make me hate you.

AQUAMAN AND THE LOST KINGDOM THOUGHTS. MORE SPOILERS THAN FISH IN THE SEA.

THE GOOD

-Loved the humour of it. The DCEU has been so serious and I find myself loving the lighter ones like WONDER WOMAN 2, the SHAZAM films and THE FLASH. Plus, Jason Momoa is better equipped for comedy/action, than drama. Meanwhile, Patrick Wilson excels at both! How great is he in this?!

Wilson was just so game. The cockroach scenes (scenes because there is a mid-credit call-back) would have been downright dumb if it was played by someone less committed than Wilson.

And the humour in their interactions weren't clunky because this is Arthur having the brother experience that he never had. It ties back to his father Tom (Temuera Morrison) saying Junior should have a sibling and how he wished Arthur had one. Now we see it played out, complete with the older sibling bullying (convincing Orm to eat a cockroach by saying it's the shrimp of the land. Which is priceless because people call shrimp the cockroaches of the seas).

-As soon as Kordax said his darkest night had ended, I knew what was going on.

Blackest Night!!!!!

Yes, the core story was vastly different but this was the their nod to it.

-People living under the sea should stoke the imagination so I'm happy they finally made the civilization under the sea so lively instead of us just watching Atlantean council meetings. Give us the nightlife!

THE BAD

-I don't think we got enough time with Black Manta.

It honestly felt like Randall Park's Stephen Shin had more screen-time.

Stephen who is obviously Jimmy Woo's identical twin cousin.

I think the film should have gone deeper into David Kane's slip into madness due to the trident with more of his "Gollum" scenes where we can see how Kordax is spurring him on.

But at least they gave Black Manta a great death. I was just waiting for Arthur to grab him and Black Manta still fall to his death. But it's so fitting that David wouldn't dare let the man who killed his father (a man who doesn't even feel bad about it) save him. True standing on business! Or falling... Falling on business.

-The water effects are horrible. I think it likely looks better in 3D but in standard - hazy, uncanny valley.

THE REST

-Pilou Asbaek plays Kordax and I find it fitting that my wretched sh!tty despot uncle of the Iron Islands plays a power hungry Atlantean.

-I was the only person to laugh at the Topo line spoken by Atlanna (Nicole Kidman).

Return of the King.

And Storm!

-Though in the SnyderCut we get Martian Manhunter, thus fulfilling the motto of Unite the Seven

in this film we get another united seven - the seven kingdoms of Atlantis which includes the titular lost kingdom.

-Felt like James Wan did a fair bit of nods. We get Orn living above ground at an outdoor restaurant a'la Bruce's retired life in THE DARK KNIGHT RISES. Arthur and Orn's team-up is like Thor and Loki's in THOR: RAGNAROK. Arthur even calls Orn Loki before making a Harry Potter reference.

There's a shot of Black Manta sat in the navigation chair in his Black Manta gear casting the same type of demeanor as T'Challa in BLACK PANTHER. The ending with Arthur deciding to tell the world about Atlantis is straight cribbed from BLACK PANTHER and IRON MAN. Is this the cinematic version of someone losing a match and shaking the hand of their opponent?

[hollowwish]

Now I come to talk fanfic!! So i had an idea for a empires season 1 fic! its gempulse and love triangle flower fwhimmy but also a bit arranged marriage because your idea gave me ideas (in a different direction tho) man view are probably fwhip and gem, maybe some chapters in the other views as well. Basically Gem is in love with impulse who is a member of the dwarfen kingdom located under and between rivendell and the crystal cliffs. (I imagine this kingdom isnt really royalty based and more like a working democracy with impulse as a member of the leaders. Other leaders are maybe other hermits or skizz. Anyways Story is that Rivendell and Crystal cliffs want scott and gem to marry because of their magic powers in hope that an unity of both could save the end (or similar) Problem is, Gem is in love with impulse and scott is in love with jimmy. both of them dont want to marry each other and try to find a way around it Meanwhile she is just telling her pain to her brother who is in love with scott and would love to take her place but due to his lack of magic and inability to, well, carry an offspring he is not considered for it. He will try to help gem tho, because he is trade partner with impulse for stuff and he is like helping gem wooing impulse, who is also in love with gem but both of them dont know about the mutual feelings. then theres Jimmy who is in love with fwhip and wants to be able to woo him, but their kingdoms are enemies and the twins father would never ever let them at each other. So he tries to get to fwhip over scott, and scott is so much in love he helps jimmy but it hurts him. fwhip agrees to meet up with jimmy because he loves scott so much. its a mess no one can properly talk; only gem and fwhip have good communication. total love drama.

Hehe im glad my ideas inspired you. I sure do love an arranged marriage!!!

The love triangle is such a mess oh my god. Then trying to pair each other up must hurt so much. I can just imagine all the miscommunication and mixed singals between them. Meanwhile i imagine gem and impulse are just being the cutest <3

I love fwhip being the best brother ever. If he can't be happy he can help his sister be happy! I can also imagine skizz and the other hermits all trying to be impulses wingman whwffw

I love how they're all involved in the political stuff someway and then jimmy seems to just. Be there lmaoo. He came here fwhip and he can't even have that

This sounds like such a fun idea and I'm so excited to see where it goes <33

[georgeharrisonshairymoustache]

@lasalebete more sio infodumping now wahoo *crowd goes fucking silent*

May as well start from the beginning...

To put some backstory context in, her family is from a long line of Coruscentian (the kingdoms name) Emperors since like....the year 625 (clarification that this is a fictional place and ADs and BCs aren't actually determined just yet cuz we haven't needed to do anything abt that) (and extra clarification that the current year in The Realghms is approx 1380).

If you were to imagine Sio race-wise then she's mixing between a slight middle-eastern (maternal) and a white Mediterranean (paternal)

Basically imagine pretty much Turkish and Greece

Cuz like...her ginger hair is SO common in Turkey and Greeceeeeeee (my only defense is that her features are entirely based on me I'm so sorry)

Reference:

(Shit drawing but ah well)

*ehem* anyway

Her dad, Demetrius (*insert surname that I won't use for personal reasons here*) was a traumatised war veteran who likely fought in the same war that Sio fought in when she was 16 (99 Years War). He came home veryyyyy traumatised, he was depressed, a heavy drinkerrrr, VERY victim-blaming, especially on Sio. Sio's Siblings, Zehraei and Bayezid were infinitely more favoured than her, even though Bayezid died of an illness when he was still little. As the years went on Demetrius went on to continue abusing her (via manipulation and guilt tripping), whereas her mother, Aylinei, seemed to be completely oblivious to his behaviour (I think that she knew all along but since she prefered Zehraei to Sio, and that she didn't want to be hurt by her husband, then she just never stood up for it HAHA GREAT MUM INNIT) !!!

Fast forward to 1361. VERYYYY important year for Sio and Elias (some reasons I won't indulge in yet cuz the essays would be far too long). In the capital city that they both resided in, called Annen, was sieged by the opposition army (Malusians) from the 99 Years War. During this time, Zehraei is brutally murdered by a soldier, and the family is destraught (obviously, icl Zehraei was actually a good person unlike many blursed characters). Her parents (and grandfather Orpheus) are SO destraught, not only because they're favourite daughter had died but also because this meant that all they could now rely on to continue their family tree was from this odd little teen who never found any interest in men whatsoever (oh how untrue that is mwahahah).

Then. Some bomb (or sumn like that) went off on the street while the family was fleeing the city, which knocked down the city watchtower. Fortunately, Sio was quite a bit further than them, having not noticed the large falling tower noises going on in the background since she was trying to calm herself via Stairway to Heaven playing in her headphones (long story as to why she's got access to both modern technology and led zeppelin that I won't go into yet).

So yeah, basically. Errrr maybe sound effects might put gjbe a better insight as to what happened to the rest of the family afterwsrds

*WEEEEEEEEEEEEEE* *RUBBLE RUBBLE CRUMBLE CRUMBLE* *WHAP BANG WHOP WOO* *WEEEEE* *CRASH BAM WHAP ZAP LED ZEP* *falling tower noises*

*CRASH BANG WAP CARDI. B.* *body-crushing noises*

dw, sio noticed her family had all just been killed by that watchtower eventually, however she was a little disappointed that she had to pause jimmy page's guitar solo nearing the end of the song (cuz it's banging).

After all this she is hella sad tho she's also a bit relieved they're dead cuz now she has some actual freedom (elias probably helped her get grounded numerous times for like, time travelling).

Then there's a bit of a gap in timelines from where her family dies and where she signs up for the army BUT THATS FOR ANOTHER ESSAY CUZ GODAMN THAT WAR GOT SOME IMPORTANT SHIT

(I AM SO SORRY THIS WAS NOT MEANT TO BE THIS LONG)