#like how am i NOT meant to go a little bonkers in the face of that??

[i-am-but-a-beta-fish]

is this about the hok or myself? the answer is yes.

[londonskies]

DON’T SAY THE S WORD!!

https://images.app.goo.gl/JKKNVtwZNGAVVwzB9

In which Corpse has a secret girlfriend and his insomnia is driving them both up the wall, putting precious Sykkuno in danger because he said the word “Sleep”. 

Hi! This is just a once in a blue moon, feel good, fluff fic cause I have commitment issues on my writing lol. 

Yes, my writing style is long winded, I’m really sorry, but I hope you enjoy it! 

credits to  u/balderdash_lee on reddit

Corpse had not slept for close to 50 hours by the time that they had started their latest month prior pre-planned plasmophobia session with Rae, Sykkunno and Toast, but it was like he was hyped up on sugar for the last hour or so and Y/n was really beginning to get worried. 

This was a tattletale sign of the huge crash her boyfriend was about to go through, and yet the stubborn man just would not step away from his computer.

She had tried everything, from luring him with pizza (to which he had snatched a few slices and had just retreated to his gaming room once more) to telling him that there was a fire in the kitchen (to which he replied was virtually impossible given how meticulous Y/n was in the kitchen) to faking an injury (which corpse called bullshit on without even looking at her).

It was getting really frustrating and she knew for a fact that the longer her boyfriend was going to wait this out, the worse he was going to feel.

And the worse he was going to act. 

He would never hurt anyone, ever. The man was the definition of a soft boi beyond his brain meltingly amazing voice. But when he was beyond bone dead tired like he was right now, he had the tendency to act mean, and the only person who had the capability of calming him down in the middle of the pandemic was Y/n, and she would have to hijack his stream. 

The stream that was filled with hundreds of thousands of people who didn’t even know that their precious Corpse was in a relationship with anyone. 

Would she have the chance to mute him before he went on his tired, angry, borderline crazy monologue? She would try, but probably not. 

Y/n had to bring out the big guns. 

Rae and Toast were pretty easy people to conspire with and were almost always down to do pranks and other shit that Y/n came up with, and always, always down to do whatever it took to get Corpse to take care of himself. 

Sykkuno though, bless him, the cutest, most clueless person Y/n had ever met. 

He was always very concerned for Corpse’s health but was the worst at going incognito. So Rae and Toast were the ones who used their code word (lights out) and had always been the ones who had the role of making sure Sykkuno knew what to do. 

“Aaaaaaaaaaanddd, lights out baby!” Rae screamed as she made her way past Sykkuno at the entrance of the house they were in at the moment, but Sykkuno, the precious little boy that he is, just watched Rae with a bewildered face, getting even more confused when Toast made his way past him as well, whispering “Lights out.” and moving back to the truck in the game. 

From inside, Corpse’s character was busy laughing at a joke he made about a picture in the wall and had not noticed the other two missing. He did notice though, when Sykkuno appeared near him to ask him what was up before convulsing and dropping to the floor. 

Corpse’s laugh was noticeably more manic now, getting a lot more high pitched and erratic. For a second, Sykkuno laughed with him, then when Corpse’s went on for too long, suddenly looked confused on his stream, turning to face the general vicinity he Corpse’s character was. 

So he spoke through their always open discord chat. “Uhh, Corpse? You okay there buddy?” 

The stubborn man just kept laughing, Y/n increasingly getting concerned as she watched all 4 player’s streams on different devices one room over. Rae and Toast were chatting about the pills in the truck, so as to not alarm Corpse of the lowkey distraction they were doing to finish the game easy (aka getting at least 3 of them killed), and then giving excuses to stop streaming and giving Y/n a chance to haul his ass to bed. 

Sykkuno on the other hand, was now (against all plans spoken about prior) continuing to talk to Corpse. 

“Corpse?” the timid man spoke once more, finally reaching the ever more manic Corpse. 

All of a sudden, an eerie silence fell around the two of them, settling for a few seconds before getting filled by a flat “Yea?” from Corpse. 

Y/n could almost hear the sentence that Sy would reply to that, and at that moment, she knew, they were fucked. 

With a quick “Fuckin shite” to both Rae and Toast’s chat, Y/n bounded over to Corpse’s office, hearing tail end of the question that was about to make Corpse’s brain go kaboom. 

“You sound tired man, maybe you should sleep for a bit?” 

She knew he only meant good. Sykkuno was just one of those guys that would never want to hurt anyone. She knew it, Corpse knew it, everyone knew it. 

But her secret boyfriend was sleep deprived and going batshit crazy because of it, and currently, his trigger word was the word Sleep.

Y/n would give poor Sy a viking funeral if she can’t stop this.

“I am not tire-” Corpse was pretty intimidating when he wanted to be, and I knew that that low voice of his would scare every single hitman in a 1000 mile radius when used in a booming, angry way. And the way his voice was escalating was sure to end in said booming, angry way.

Y/n sprinted into his recording room, only partially wincing at the horridly loud bang the door made when she wrenched it open to fling herself at her boyfriend. The world seemed to slow as she soared through the air, uncaring if she knocked things out of the way. 

Gotta make sure their baby Sy would never be at that end of Corpse’s fury. 

She partially landed on his lap, torso hanging off the side. It hurt as her ribs made contact on the armrest of his computer chair, but it stopped his tirade with a surprised “Ooof!” and knocked him away from his PC.

“Honey!! Don’t yell at Sy!” 

“Y/n???”

Oh shit. 

Of course Sykkuno had to yell out her name during a stream. She had bet Toast 200 dollars that Sy would be the one to drop her name, and it was high time she cashed in. 

Y/n fixed herself on Corpse’s lap, shoving his headphones off of him and forcing him into a hug. Of course he protested, but eventually relaxed in her grip, muttering about how his eyes and wrists hurt now but he promised to play with the OTV peeps and his insomnia hit him too hard these past few days. 

“Baby,” he whispered hoarsely, his grip tightening on her as well. It only took a moment for Y/n to realize that her boyfriend was shaking, trying not to fall apart. “It hurts.” 

She ran her fingers through his hair, putting a kiss on the top of his head as he relaxed even more. They had to move to a more comfortable space soon or else Corpse would fall asleep here and she would have to move him (which at 5 feet, is not very easy.) but he was relaxing and Y/n couldn’t make herself distract him from that. 

“I know babe, it’s okay. We’ll breathe through it. You can do it, I know you can.” Corpse would never fess up to crying, but the growing patch of tears on her sweater was evidence of the amount of pain that he was experiencing. 

His dedication was amazing, but a lot of the time he sacrificed his health for it. So as much as she didn’t want to hold him back, sometimes she really just had to step in and meddle to save him from himself.

They stayed like that for a while, Y/n occasionally having to coach him through his breathing, but overall, they were doing fine. 

Y/n smiled into his hair when he finally stopped shaking. “That’s it babe, you’re doing amazing.” she whispered, moving to get off his lap. She wasn’t the lightest person despite her shortness, her curves never letting her be skinny, so she was sure that her sitting on his lap was making his legs go numb. Corpse, on the other hand, only held on tighter, basically turning into a koala at this point. 

“Corpse, Honey, your legs are gonna go numb, babe.” she giggled. She tried to put him at arm’s length, but her apparently octopus boyfriend had planned to never let her go. 

“No.” he mumbled, pressing his face ever tighter into her sweater, making her giggle, in turn, making him smile. 

Eventually, he detached his face from her sweater and peeked up at his girlfriend, the visual of his tousled hair, pout, one sparkling eye and the other now only partially covered by his falling eyepatch, but both with smudged eyeliner and mirth, made her melt.  “Don’t go, please?” Y/n giggled at him. “I’m not gonna leave babe, I just gotta get off your lap before I make your legs undergo hypoxia.” 

“I’d let them cut off my legs if it meant having you here forever.” if she hadn’t already fallen in love with this man, she would say that this was the moment that she fell in love with him. But falling in love with him over and over again was probably something that she would never stop doing, even if Corpse ever decided to not love her back one day. 

They were jolted out of their happy little bubble when they heard a loud screech coming from his headphones making a sound more akin to blasting speakers than headphones, which had apparently fallen just beside them on the table instead of the floor like Y/n anticipated. “STOP YOUR LOVING AND GO TO SLEEP CORPSE!” Rae screeched, making the both of them laugh out loud, but one look at his screen stopped them at their tracks.

Corpse was miraculously still alive in game, Rae’s character moving back and forth in front of his. 

Rae… was streaming, right? 

Oh shit numero dos. 

One look at the chat showed that they had just outed themselves. The sappy couple making everyone watching go absolutely bonkers at the chat. 

“WHO IS THAT?” -ijustlovemakingsounds

“HONEY???? BABE?????” - corpseybae

“WHAT IS HAPPENING??” -randomuser

“IS CORPSE OKAY?” -ShinigamiEyes

“CORPSE??” -corpsekkuno28

“BABY?????” -honestlywtf

“HE’S SO SWEET OMGOMGOMGOMG!!!!!!!” -cutiepiecorpsey

“WAIT WAIT WAIT IS HE OKAY????” -omgilovehim

“WHO THE HECK??” -wifeyyyycorpse

Both parties were staring wide eyed at the screens. Even with slow mode on, the chat was going a hundred miles per hour and all they were seeing were screaming chats in all caps zooming up. 

For a second Y/n just kept staring quietly, and then the first giggle escaped her and soon, both of them were a giggling pile of sweaters and limbs on Corpse’s computer chair, not even trying to stop their antics. Rae screamed another “YOU’RE BOTH CUTE AND WE ALL KNOW IT STOP AND SLEEP!!” 

The laughter seemed endless. 

It was the sound of Y/n’s phone ringing from the other room that finally got her up from the warm confines of Corpse’s lap. But before she left, she was going to make sure that Corpse was not just going to continue streaming in her absence. 

“Sooo….” Y/n turned them over so that she was facing the screen and not him, talking directly into the mic as she scrambled for the headphones she had shoved off of his head. “Yes Corpse Husband has a Corpse wife and she’s now taking him back to their coffins because the hubby is a stubborn piece of shit and has not slept in more than 50 hours.” 

The casual information drop made the chat go even crazier, people now freaking out about her, trying to find out who she was, what she did, when and where they met, stuff like that. “I’ll see what I can do to answer your questions, you simps. But I gotta knock him out for now, and I promise you won’t be left hanging.” 

She felt him wrap his arms around her waist once more, feeling him press his face tightly against her back. “Baby,” he started to say, but Y/n cut him off with a few pats to wherever she could reach behind her.

“Sorry, but the jackass is now cut off from the mic and shall be cut off until he sleeps, so I shall be the one to say, good day to you sirs and madams, he shall see you on the next one! Bye!!!!” 

Then a pause, and a quietly frustrated “Hun, how do you turn it off??”

The chat was flooded with variations of “She’s so cute!!” and as tempted as he was to keep it going for a bit, he knew that it would upset and worry his adorable girlfriend to do so. 

So from his vantage point, he just mumbled a quick “Bye!” before cutting off stream. Normally, he would stay and read superchats and see how many new members he had gained, but this time, his tiny, but determined girlfriend was dead set on getting him to chill his ass out. 

And he let you.

He watched as you dragged him off to bed, tucking him in all the fluffy blankets you’d gotten for his comfort, smiled as you eagerly burrowed yourself under the fluff with him, sighed contentedly as your warmth surrounded him as you cuddled into him. 

He basked in your presence as he held you back just as tight, feeling you plant a kiss in his hair and smile as he relaxed ever more. From across the room, the mirror reflected the image of the two of you, touching the deepest recesses of the soul he would never claim to have. 

And as he drifted off, he watched as you glowed in the streaks of the fading afternoon sun, peeking through their heavy curtains, he thought:

What more was there to ask for? 

[wandas-sunshine]

Strike Three

Summary: Everybody makes mistakes. Your first mistake was telling your family that you were seeing someone when you were just as single as ever. Your second mistake was asking Pietro to fake a relationship to keep your family off your back. Well, maybe that wasn’t such a mistake.

Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 3,826

You didn’t have the best track record with relationships, you knew that. Even if you didn’t know, your family would have made damn sure to inform you. You knew they only fussed so much because they loved you, because they wanted the best for you. But they were such a headache sometimes.

You were going bonkers now. Your mother was becoming overbearing with her insistence that you needed to hurry up and settle down, and your sister was positive that she could handle the whole thing for you. She herself was engaged, so your mom agreed that she probably knew how to steer you back down the proper path.

And maybe it was the exhaustion of hearing them try to arrange a good relationship for you, or maybe the panic of listening to your sister talk about her new coworker (who was a very impressive man, don’t you know?), but for some reason, you went and said something so painfully stupid.

“I’ve been seeing someone.”

That was nearly a month ago, and your entire family was pestering you for more information. You felt bad avoiding their calls, but you were bluffing and you had barely gotten out of that conversation alive. Your sister was bringing her fiance to Christmas, so of course that meant you were expected to bring someone as well.

Avoiding conversations about your nonexistent boyfriend was growing difficult. You’d been holding out hope that you would find someone by the time the holidays rolled around, but no luck. A real boyfriend would have been ideal, but your frantic attempts at finding someone to play the part also yielded no success.

You had of course contemplated faking a breakup, but that would only further their idea that you couldn’t handle your own love life. You had dug a hole that you just couldn’t climb out of.

So with one week to your family’s Christmas gathering, you were sitting on your best friend’s bed with your head in your hands.

“I am so royally screwed, Wanda. Stevie is going to force me to go out with some accountant or one of Adam’s firefighter friends, and my mom’s gonna make me marry him. Then what?” You wailed. She laughed, finally looking up from her phone.

“Who’s dating an accountant?” Pietro’s voice made your complaints die on your tongue. He was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. With him standing there having heard about your pathetic predicament, you couldn’t help the embarrassment that coursed through your veins.

“(Y/N) apparently. If they don’t find a date to Christmas with their family.” Wanda answered him. You groaned again. “They told everyone that they have a boyfriend, and now they have nobody to show.”

“I’ll do it.” He offered so nonchalantly that it took a second to process. Then you’d sat up so fast that you got dizzy.

“For real? You’ll do it?” You clasped your hands together in a silent plea, and Pietro shrugged.

“Why not. Text me the details,” He left you shouting your appreciation after him as he made his way back to his own bedroom.

A week passed by, and you had confirmed your plus one. You kept the information you shared minimal, just giving his name and saying that you hadn’t wanted to say anything until you were sure he’d be able to come. You were nervous about the whole thing, a whole list of things that could go wrong playing on an endless loop in your head as you tapped against your steering wheel.

A few moments passed before he finally came out with his suitcase in hand. Three nights at your parents home with your sister, and your friend who you’d somehow coerced into pretending to date you seemed like a nightmare. But Pietro’s presence was calming. He sat his bag in the back and settled into the passenger seat. He had the brightest smile on his face.

He buckled in and sorted out the music as you started on the drive back to your childhood home. The quiet between the two of you lasted a while before he broke it.

“So what’s our story, cupcake?” He smirked and turned the music down, looking over as you spared him a confused glance.

“Our story?”

“Yeah, you know. How we met, how we got together. The story we’re gonna tell our kids one day.” Your stomach flipped. What were you getting yourself into?

“Um, I guess we met through Wanda,” You started, keeping your eyes on the road and gripping the steering wheel tightly so you didn’t have to focus on how strange the whole conversation felt.

“And I saved you from some drunk creep at a party,” He started. “I took you to iHop-”

“And we’ve been together ever since!” You finished with a laugh. It was mostly true, everything he mentioned had happened, just not exactly like that. It made you feel a little better knowing that you weren’t lying to your family, just...rearranging the truth.

“See, baby, we’re gonna be just fine,” The sound of the pet name flustered you much more than you were willing to admit. You rolled your eyes and cleared your throat.

“Okay. But if we’re gonna make it, there’s gotta be rules.” You warned him. He motioned for you to go on. “Rule number 1; No saying I Love You. Rule Number 2; No kissing. Not under any circumstances. And Rule Number 3; No catching feelings.”

“Easy peasy,” He chuckled. He didn’t understand why you were so paranoid. There was no way he was going to let them set you up with one of their awful picks for you. No, you deserved better than that. So he’d follow your rules, and he’d save the day if it killed him.

The rest of the drive consisted of him playing music, and the two of you joking around like nothing was any different than it had been from the beginning. But you couldn’t ignore the way your heart stuttered when he’d jokingly call you by those stupid affectionate names, or the way your cheeks burned under his attention. The tension and worry lingered, thinly veiled by his stupid knock knock hokes and classic rock.

It was mid afternoon by the time you pulled into your parents driveway. You were helping Pietro unload the boatload of presents you’d brought along for your family when your older sister came racing out of the house. She squealed and bundled you up into a tight hug like you hadn’t seen each other in years.

“You brought a boy,” She noted as she stepped back, hugging herself against the cold. You bit your lip and nodded a little.

“Stevie, this is Pietro. Pietro, my big sister Stevie.” You stepped back and glanced at Pietro. He had the most dazzling smile on his lips, one that made your stomach flutter. And Stevie certainly seemed charmed enough.

“So you really do have a boyfriend. I was beginning to think he was fake,” She teased. You and Pietro shared a look and he seemed to be barely stifling his laughter. You glared, a silent warning to keep his mouth shut. “They barely told us anything about you. I can see why they were keeping you a secret, if I didn’t have Adam I’d be stealing you away.”

“Well, good thing we’re here for a couple of days. You guys can get to know everything about each other. But can we pretty please get this stuff inside before it gets nasty out here?” You begged, readjusting the armful of gifts you’d grabbed. Pietro huffed and took them easily.

“I can get them, don’t worry.” He insisted. You hesitated a little but he was already following your sister inside. So you grabbed your bag from the back and closed the car up to join them inside.

Once you walked in, you were met by the smell of baked goods wafting out the door. You kicked your shoes off and set your bag down by the stairs. Your family had already stolen your boyfriend- fake boyfriend- by the time you slipped into the kitchen.

“Your favorite kid just got home, but all you care about is the new boyfriend, huh?” You teased, sliding up to hug your dad, then your mom. Pietro sort of liked the way it sounded when you said that. Boyfriend. He knew he wasn’t really the boyfriend, but it was a nice thought.

“You didn’t tell us he was so handsome,” Your mom chided, giving your shoulders a squeeze. Your face flared hot and you glanced at Pietro.

“Don’t worry about me. Your family is great, they’re already trying to feed me.” He smirked. Truthfully he seemed oddly comfortable in the role, but you were glad he wasn’t freaking out. Of course for the sake of not having to date someone with a stick up their ass. But the fact that he was giving you his usual laid-back grin didn’t hurt.

“Why don’t you two go up to your room and get settled in. Dinner will be done soon. (Y/N), your old room is all set up for you two.” Your mom cooed, turning back to the food she was working on. You glanced towards the stairs.

“He’s sleeping in my room? With me?” You asked, glancing between faces. You were used to sharing a room with your sister on the holidays and whatever guys you brought along were usually put into her old room. You supposed that changed now that she was properly engaged.

“Well duh. Adam’s sleeping in my room when he gets here.” Stevie answered. You gave a tiny nod. Made sense. You grabbed your bags and nodded for Pietro to follow you upstairs. He gave a smile to your family and let you lead the way to your bedroom.

Once the door was shut, you groaned and leaned back against it. Once again you were asking yourself the same question. Just what had you gotten yourself into. The idea of pretending to be in love with Pietro was one thing. But now you’d be sleeping in the same probably too-small bed for three nights. That must have been crossing some sort of line. You could sleep on the floor. It was hardwood but you were pretty sure you’d survive it. Or maybe you could take turns.

“Piet, I’m so sorry. I really didn’t think they’d put us in here together.” You sighed. Pietro was too busy perusing your room to really think too much of it. There were still a few pictures decorating the back of the door of you and your family and friends. A couple band posters were left up, and there was a stack of books in the corner. “But now that Stevie and Adam are actually engaged...I’m sorry.”

“Chill, it’s no big deal.” He sat at the edge of your bed and you nodded. It was nice seeing him settle so easily into a space that used to be strictly yours. You supposed it wasn’t so bad to share it with him.

The evening passed much faster than you had expected. The worst part was dinner. Your future brother-in-law had shown up which helped to ease some of the tension. But nevertheless your family was all over Pietro. He reached over and gave your hand a squeeze as you sat down, and you knew he’d never let you down.

Throughout the meal, he complimented your mom’s cooking. He talked about his classes, and about being on the track and field team at his college. Within minutes he had everyone eating out of the palm of his hand.

The most startling part was just the way he talked about you. The way he’d just look at you for so long that it would make your throat go dry, or the way he’d beam when asked about the two of you.

“I just knew when I first saw them that no one else could compare. I love them,” He’d said. And he’d looked at you like he never wanted to look away. Your stomach did somersaults and you’d focused on the mashed potatoes you were poking at.

Strike one.

Once dinner had come to a close, you and your sister worked at clearing the table. Your mom ushered the boys towards the living room to relax while the three of you worked on cleanup. You carried an armful of dishes into the kitchen, depositing them on the counter and drawing up some dish water, but not before flashing Pietro an apologetic smile. He just winked and slipped away.

You stared into the sink, watching the suds as they foamed up. Maybe asking Pietro along was a bad idea. Your dad was becoming pretty buddy-buddy with him, and your mother seemed to adore him already. Your fake breakup was probably going to be harder for them than it was for you.

“So,” Stevie set a last stack of dishes on the counter and smirked. “Pietro is really something, huh?”

You chewed on your lip, giving your full attention to the dishes you were scrubbing clean.

“He’s sweet. And he seems pretty in love with you,” Your mom added. And just like that your heart was leaping back into your throat. Who knew Pietro Maximoff was such a good actor? And who knew you cared so much?

“Yeah, he’s pretty great isn’t he?” You smiled, a sick sort of despair clogging in your chest. “Too good to be true,”

With the three of you working together, the cleaning went by in a jiffy. Soon enough you were settling in the living room with the others. You sat on the couch beside Pietro as they all continued their discussion.

You tried not to tense up as he pulled you closer by your waist without so much as a glance. You slowly relaxed and snuggled even closer. Your head rested against his chest like it was meant to be there, and your arm found its way around him. He was warm, that was all, and he smelled nice...You were selling it, nothing more. Just selling it, even as his fingers moved to play with your hair.

“It’s getting late. You four had a long day, we should all get some rest.” Your dad decided. And with the way you were half asleep in Pietro’s arms, you couldn’t argue.

He carefully maneuvered you off of him so he could stand up. You weren’t sure when the two of you had started holding hands, but yours was clutched firmly in his, fingers intertwined as he pulled you to your feet.

“C’mon baby, you’re sleepy.” He mumbled. You nodded and said your goodnights to everyone before letting him lead you up the stairs. You slipped into your room and dug through your bag for your sleep clothes. Once you’d pulled them out you glanced up at Pietro. He chuckled and turned his back.

Once the both of you had changed, you laid yourself down, watching and waiting for Pietro to join you. The silence as he climbed into the bed was heavy, both of you deep in your thoughts and being exceptionally careful not to cross any lines or take up too much space. You were hyper aware of every breath you took, and of every miniscule brush of skin.

You did not have feelings for him. Sure he was handsome, and considerate. Not to mention how funny he was, and the way he fit in with your family better than anyone else you’d brought home. But it was cliche. He was your best friend’s brother. He was Pietro for fucks sake. Falling for him just wasn’t in the cards.

You didn’t remember falling asleep, or moving a muscle all night, but you woke up in a mess of tangled limbs. He’d slung his arm around your waist and nestled into your chest, and you had flipped your leg over his. He was warm, and you could feel his breath tickling against your neck. That alone had your heart rate flying through the roof.

You were careful not to wake him as you slipped out of bed. He shifted and you froze until you were sure he’d fallen back into his deep slumber. You took a moment, just admiring him all sweet and conked out, his hair a mess and a tiny bit of drool slipping past his lips. Gross. But adorable.

You got ready for the rest of the day and slipped downstairs to find your mom and sister back in the kitchen working on a breakfast spread. You leaned against the door. You could hear Adam and your dad chatting from the living room.

“Want a hand?” You asked. Your mom smiled at you.

“We didn’t want to bother you guys. Where’s the other lovebird?”

You rolled your eyes, but it was too late to hide your smile.

“Still sleeping. I thought I’d let him catch a little extra shut eye.” You explained, moving to help set the table while they cooked. Nobody said much after that, just talking about all of the family gossip you’d missed out on while you were away.

Meanwhile, your mind was drifting to all the ways you could make this up to Pietro. You didn’t have the opportunity to think much on it as he came down the stairs.

He was still tired, you could tell. But his hair was wet from a shower, and he’d changed into a charmingly ugly sweater that clashed with his usual vibes. It was endearing, you couldn’t deny that. He moved to stand by you, arm wrapping around your waist and his hand landing on your hip.

“Good morning to you too, sleepyhead.” You teased. He laughed quietly, but then he pouted.

“You left me.” You smiled and leaned your head against his shoulder.

“You just looked so peaceful. Plus I wasn’t ready to deal with you yet.” You dodged away from him as he tried to grab at you, giggling and stealing away into the kitchen again to grab the platter of pancakes. Your mom and Stevie shared a knowing look that you disregarded.

Breakfast, much like dinner, had gone without a hitch. The two of you bantered the way you always did. He stole a bite from your plate, and you took a drink from his cup in retaliation. As he finished eating, his hand found yours. You gave him a puzzled look, and he simply slotted his fingers in between yours.

The conversation lasted until everyone was finished. Then everyone was ushered to the living room for the gift opening. You and Pietro were still hand in hand when your mom stopped you in your tracks. You were about to question why when Pietro guided you to face him by your hips. Your hands pressed against his - rather firm - chest.

“Mistletoe,” He whispered. Your eyes flicked up, then back to his.You were suddenly very warm. You had rules, and this was seriously not fair. You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Both of you were fairly willing to call that good. Stevie, however, was most certainly not.

“That’s pathetic. Give him a real one. It’s Christmas, (Y/N)!” She argued. You looked at her, then back only to find that he hadn’t looked away from you.

“Yeah, baby. It’s Christmas.” He half-teased, hoping to ease some of the building tension. You thought on it, considering shattering what was left of your rule into pieces. But before your flustered mind could come to any sort of decision, you were being kissed.

You curled your hands into the front of his sweater, and melted against his lips. They were softer than you’d expected, and the kiss was much less demanding than you had thought it would be. When you pulled away, he brushed his thumb over your jaw.

“Sorry,” He whispered. You shook your head, but you still couldn’t look him in the eye. The urge to feel his lips against yours was a little too strong, and who knew what you’d do if he kept looking at you like that. You pressed your lips together like you could forget his taste.

“Don’t be.”

Strike two.

The gift exchange was exceptionally uneventful after the mistletoe ordeal. Your mind was still wading through the fog when your mom opened the last of the gifts. You were all about to sort everything out and pack your gifts with your things when Pietro spoke.

“Oh, I almost forgot something. Stay put.” He carefully freed himself from where you’d been leaning against him and headed for the stairs. You sat patiently, sharing curious looks around the room. You hadn’t talked about presents.

He only took a moment, coming back with a small box wrapped neatly in pale blue paper. You figured that was Wanda’s doing.

“Here. I don’t know if you’ll like it but…” He passed you the gift, and you smiled at him. You stared at the little box for a long moment before you finally took off the paper. You didn’t notice all the attention shifting to the two of you as you took the lid off.

“Oh my god, Pietro,” You gasped, your hand moving to cover your mouth. Inside was a stunning silver bracelet with several little charms on it. You carefully picked it up and worried each charm between your fingertips. “You shouldn’t have. I didn’t get you anything.”

“You didn’t need to. Look, this one is for that iHop trip, remember? And this one is for the when Wanda introduced us at the beach. And this one is for the butterfly exhibit you made me take you to. Oh, and this is for this trip, see?” He rambled. Tears pricked at your eyes and you giggled. You were in so deep, and the bracelet must have cost him a fortune.

“Put it on me?” You looked up at him and he nodded. There was a pause as he took the bracelet from you and fastened it around your wrist. You admired it with a lovesick grin.

“I’m in love with you.” He spoke firmly, and your heart skipped a beat.

“I love you too, Piet.” You slid your hand into his and he looked down at how nicely your hand fit into his. Like you were meant to be.

“I don’t want this to end,” He locked eyes with you again, praying that you really understood what he meant. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to build up the confidence to confess all over again if you didn’t. But he didn’t need to worry about that. You lifted your hand to cup his cheek.

“Then I’m yours forever, Maximoff.”

Strike three.

And there was so much to talk about, but in that moment none of it mattered. Not when the pretending was finally over, and you were having the best Christmas of your entire life.

[drwcn]

maybe after today’s acls training i can finally write that chengqing ER oneshot. 

— “Patient male, mid-twenties, motor vehicle collision, eta 3 mins” 

— “What no vitals? No GCS? ETA 3 mins? Who’s on the paramedic team?!” 

— “No one….Dr. Lu hit someone with her car on her way out of the hospital.” 

【A Midnight Conversation in Your Local ER】- Complete

[1] 

The night hunt had gone to shits.

That much was undeniable.

Jiang Cheng heard the panicked shout of his disciples just as he saw the array that he had stepped on.

Fuck.

The ghost of an once mediocre demonic cultivator wanna-be was going to bring Jiang Cheng, Jiang Wanyin - the Sandu Shengshou - to meet his maker. The irony of the situation would be laughable, if he wasn’t so irrevocably screwed.

That was his last thought before his entire body was engulfed by a blinding light and the world he knew disappeared.

The ground beneath his feet gave away, weightlessness paralyzing his body though he did not fall. He felt…launched, his body warping and squeezing and stretching, the air sucked from his lungs into the endless black vacuum.

But just like that it was over. Jiang Cheng barely had time to make peace with his death before his feet touch solid earth again.

Or at least….he thought it was earth, this black, tarry hard thing striped with yellow and white. He stared at it dumbly, breathless and disoriented, barely able to react when a loud blare assaulted his senses and his world went blindly bright yet again.

This time there was pain.

Jiang Cheng clutched Sandu, ready to fight, but then his head hit the ground and everything went dark. When he woke up again, an indeterminate amount of time later, he was in a small tube and had a distinct feeling he was not wearing pants, socks or shoes.

How the fuck do you ‘scan’ a cat???  

[2]

Method actor. The nurse, from the other side of the curtain, mouthed silently.

“Sir, can you tell me your name.”

“Jiang Cheng, Jiang Wangyin.”

The resident paused, awkwardly contemplating how to continue. “Uh…..which is it? Jiang Cheng or Jiang Wanyin?”

“Jiang Cheng, zi Wanyin.”

“Traditional parents?” The resident tried to crack a joke, but it fell flat. The strange man stared up at him with a blank look in his eyes and a frown that was rapidly deteriorating into a scowl. The resident cleared his throat and cast his eyes back onto his clipboard. “Uh, ahem, just the name on your ID please.”

“My what?" 

"Your personal ID….like a driver’s license?”

“Cultivators of the gentry fly on swords or ride horses. We do not rely on carriage valets.”

“Eh… right. Uhm, can you tell me how old you are and what year it is.”

“I’m 39, and the year is jiachen.”

Lu Qi frowned from where she stood by the door, arms crossed, watching her resident and medical student work. 39? He looks like a college student. But he also thinks he can fly, so I guess age is the least of our worries. 

“Jiachen.…?”

The M3 fished his phone out from his scrub pocket pocket and typed it in. “Sounds like the ganji system, like an old timey way to record year used in the past.” He whispers clandestinely to the resident.

“….Right. And uh, do you where you are?”

The man scowled at him. “Am I supposed to?” 

The resident scribbled something on the chart, and then looked up with a plastered awkward smile. “Well, thank you Mr. Jiang for your patience. Wang Fei here is the medical student on our team. He’s going to stay and ask you a couple more questions if you don’t mind. Afterwards we’ll confer with our attending and the team will be back to see you shortly.”

As he turned away, the R3 grimaced and shared a look with Lu Qi, who was the youngest attending physician in their ER, but was not technically working at the moment and so was not on the case. And technically, as the perpetrator who hit Jiang Cheng with her car, she had a severe conflict of interest.

At least this Jiang Cheng dude didn’t seem keen on pressing personal charges against her for MVA or suing the hospital in general… but that being said…

Yeah, they’re going to need a psych consult. 

Unless he’s on acid. 

Well… okay, psych consult either way. 

[3]

"It’s okay, you can relax.” Jiang Cheng said, waving dismissively at the woman standing by his bedside. “I’m not going to take you to the magistrate for hitting me with your carriage - car. You didn’t mean to, and I just came out of nowhere.” 

“....Thank you.” 

“You’re not Wen Qing. I know that now. Your name is Lu Qi. You can call off those psychia - psych - psychics - head healers - or whatever, I’m not crazy. It’s not my fault, you just… look so much like someone I used to know."

"Wen Qing.” Lu Qi echoed. 

“Yeah. Wen Qing. She was a healer - a doctor - like you, but different.” 

“I see. What happened to her?"

"She died. Almost twenty years ago."

"I'm sorry... that's awful.” Lu Qi’s response rolled off her tongue so well, because she had said those word a thousand times during her residency. So much so that it no longer had much meaning to her. Tonight however, she meant what she said. “Were you two close?"

"No, well…yes, maybe. No we weren’t exactly friends if that’s what you’re asking. She...operated on me. Without my consent or knowledge. Took my brother’s golden core and put it in me and then lied with my brother to my face about it. So no we weren’t “close”, but Wen Qing saved my life - well the purpose of it anyway. Saved me from a life of ordinariness.” 

Lu Qi did allow herself to dwell too much on what the fuck a “golden core” was, because her gut response was almost instantaneous. “That’s shitty of her.”

She clamped down on her tongue. 

God, why did I have to say that? To his face?! He was obviously in love with this Wen Qing person and they were encroaching on some dangerous emotional territories, but Lu Qi swallowed down her caution and plowed on nevertheless. There were things she felt she had to say, and since she’d already hit him with her car, how much worse could this shit get? “What I mean is she shouldn’t have. Not without telling you. Besides...there’s nothing wrong with ordinary.” 

Jiang Cheng chuckled bitterly. “Maybe you’re right. Still...she didn’t deserve to die. What her clan did was not her fault.” 

Now that threw Lu Qi off. Did this guy...kill her? 

Lu Qi half wondered if she stumbled upon a Yakuza-esque member whose psyche finally snapped after years of murder and violence. And yet, he seemed perfectly coherent, no flight of ideas, no tangential thought, no hallucations. Even his delusions seemed...logical. 

I must be the one losing, damnit.  

Jiang Cheng scratched a little at his chest, as if palpating for the “golden core” that he spoke of. "She saved my life, but when she needed help, I couldn't save her. But, if I were to go back… I can't say I'll choose differently. My clan needed me, my clan who was almost cleansed by hers. No, no I wouldn’t choose differently. I don’t regret my choices, but I am sorry. Sorry to her, sorry to my brother. I'll always be sorry that she died, and that I failed her when she needed me." 

Jiang Cheng had no idea why he was telling this stranger any of this, but maybe after twenty years, he was finally ready to address this guilt that he lived with. I mean who else was he supposed to tell? Jin Ling? It was nice, to have that face as an audience, receiving his words of confession. 

"She would forgive you." 

Lu Qi had no idea why she was offering absolution as if she had authority in this matter, but when she said it, the conviction she felt was so real, it was almost as though some external force was acting through her.

Which was ridiculous of course, but... 

"How do you know? You're not her." Jiang Cheng shook his head. “I wouldn’t forgive me.” 

"No, but you said she was a physician. So she should know, more than most, that sometimes there is no choosing who gets to live or die."

Jiang Cheng fell quiet at that, and his gaze grew distant. Lu Qi thought perhaps he was no longer seeing her as she was in front of him - white coat, scrubs, stethoscope -  but someone entirely different. The tension he held in his shoulders slowly eased, and he sighed. In the silence that stretched between them, Lu Qi hoped that this strange man with his strange past could find a sliver of peace. 

[4]

— Did you love her? 

— I thought so, foolishly, but maybe I didn’t. Even if I did, it was not well enough. 

— Do you love her still? 

— No... I don’t know. It’s been too long...but sometimes, late at night when Lotus Pier is quiet, I think I do. 

...

— Are you ashamed of it? 

...

— No. No I’m not. 

[5]

The patient known as Jiang Cheng left AMA, that is, against medical advice. It was the term they used sometimes for people who just up and leave without informing the team. 

Lu Qi had gone out to check on his labs, which came back with bonker numbers (I mean really, a hemoglobin of 455, sodium of 200, and a HCO3 of like...3?), but Jiang Cheng was gone from Bay 6 when she returned. The nurse made the overhead page, a code yellow was called, but four hours later, Lu Qi was ready to admit that she was never going to see this Jiang Cheng ever again. 

Somehow, she was okay with that. She had said what needed to be said.  

Her chief had given her a call on her cell and told her to go home and sleep. The guy didn’t look like he was gonna press charges, let’s count our blessings and move on. But the night had just been too damn strange that Lu Qi was all wired up from it and couldn’t possibly fall asleep. She had handover at 10 anyway. There was a change of clothes and toiletries in her bag. She could always take a shower in the anesthesia staff’s on call room and sleep until then. 

Dr. Sun was the anesthesia staff on-call tonight and was currently stuck in trauma OR. They were buddies since medschool; she’d understand.

Sighing, Lu Qi took a seat on the bench across from the bougie cafe in the lobby of the hospital. At this hour, it was the only one still open in the entire facility. The drinks they sold cost an arm and a leg, but Lu Qi needed the pick-me-up after the night she had. 

As she nursed the last bit of her matcha latte, two bickering voices pulled her attention to the front entrance. 

“Aiyo, A-Liang I already said I’m fine! I don’t need to be here!” 

“Fuck out of here with that bullshit, Chen Zhaoxi. You fell off the fucking roof! If Wu Kun hadn’t called me, you’d have gone on -”

It was him! Lu Qi shot up. It was Jiang Cheng! 

But no...no it wasn’t him. The well-dressed man dragging the second man (dressed in red pajamas) into the hospital was not Jiang Cheng. He had the same face - chiselled, handsome, scowling - but it wasn’t him. For one, his hair was trimmed short and neat, unlike Jiang Cheng who looked like he walked straight out of a BL xianxia tv drama. Secondly, his face was softer, eyes younger, and he couldn’t have been older than Lu Qi herself in her early thirties. 

“I was just trying to get to the litter of kittens trapped -”

“Yes, yes, and it was very heroic and I’m sure it would’ve made Wu Kun very horny, and you morons probably would’ve fucked once he got home had you not made a valiant attempt at breaking your neck -” 

“Excuse me,” the security guard manning the information desk chastised sharply. “It’s 4am. This is a hospital! Lower your voices, sirs.” 

“Sorry.” The men apologized sheepishly. 

Then, A-Liang, Jiang Cheng’s doubleganger asked, “Could you please direct us to the ER? This is my brother, he fell off a roof.” 

Lu Bin had no idea what possessed her to interject. “I can take you there.” 

All eyes fell on her. She walked towards them, heart pounding. 

This can’t be happening, this kind of thing just can’t happen... 

A-Liang’s face broke into a grateful smile. “Thank you, Miss -” Then his gaze trailed to her badge, and he corrected himself, “Dr. Lu. I’m Shen Liang. This is my brother Chen Zhaoxi. I think he fractured...well multiple things, please help him.” 

“Of course, come with me. Let’s get him a wheelchair. If he fractured is leg, he probably shouldn’t be walking.” 

“I didn’t fracture -” 

“You, you shut up.” Shen Liang rolled his eyes. “Don’t listen to him. He can lose three out of four limbs and say ‘ t’s but a flesh wound’.” 

Lu Qi couldn’t help but chuckle as she put an arm under the complaining Chen Zhaoxi and helped him towards the wheelchair. 

Shen Liang’s smile widened. 

[Extra]

“Holy shit, took you long enough!” 

When Jin Ling and Lan Sizhui finally dragged Jiang Cheng to their portal site, Jiang Cheng realized that the transportation talisman had created a channel through realities between what looked like two metal garbage dumpsters in a back alley behind a food establishment marked by giant yellow bunny ears.

Standing guard there, Lan Jingyi and Ouyang Zizhen were each munching on a strange layered bread and holding tall drinks contained in...what was it called again? Right. Styrofoam. 

“What is that?” Jin Ling wrinkled is nose at it. Brat. 

“It’s a Big Mac.” Replied Lan Jingyi as if Jin Ling was stupid. “And this is a milk shake.” 

Jin Ling scowled. “I said the bag of gold I gave you was for emergencies.” 

“Yeah but we were hungry.” Ouyang Zizhen defended. He neglected to tell them that the cashier had refused to accept the gold and instead asked for “cash” or “card”, neither of which they had, so Zizhen used a liiiiil confounding talisman he learned from Wei Wuxian. They did leave more than enough gold though...and that ought to cover the restaurant’s cost for their “burger”lary . Reaching into the brown paper bag he held under one arm, Zizhen pulled out a little box that opened to show pieces of... something. “These are chicken nuggets. They’re delicious! Try one! They’re really good with this sauce....hold on...” 

Lan Sizhui sighed. “We don’t have time for this. The portal will close soon. Let’s get Jiang-zongzhu home and we can sample these exotic food later.” 

The boys agreed. 

Jiang Cheng shook his head and huffed. 

[skellebonez]

Because you are a fantastic writer, and because I simply adore what you write, how about a continuation to the "Wukong is once again being an idiot and lying to everyone" prompt? And this is an open prompt! You can take this and go absolutely bonkers with it!

THE POWER YOU HAVE GIVEN ME SHALL NOT GO UNDERUTILIZED. This is a follow up to these two previous fills and I am just going off about what I think would be an interesting way to continue into season 3 at this point.

Warning: UH... Sun Wukong is not doing too great. Mild descriptions of his hidden injuries, Wukong is still immortal but what he hid would be very bad for people who are not.

"He's burning up," Pigsy said with a hiss as he pulled his hand away from Wukong's forehead. "Why is he burning up? What even happened to him!? He didn't look like this an hours ago, ain't he immortal-"

"Yeah, but not invincible," MK interrupted with a shake in his voice, watching as Sandy checked on his mentor's newly revealed injuries. "Not entirely anymore. He-he'll probably be fine! No, he will be fine, but he's-shit." He took in a shaky breath, trying to stand on legs that had long since fallen asleep in their awkward position holding his mentor's head off the hard floor. "I'll explain later, we need to see how bad he is now!"

He jumped, feeling a soft touch against his shoulder. Mei had knelt beside him at some point and it wasn't until she reached over to brush her thumb against his cheek that he realized he had started crying at some point.

The chef looked at him with an odd expression at MK's revelations, almost looking like he wanted to say something in anger before shaking his head and standing instead.

"You're right," he said as he turned to Sandy. He didn't need to ask the largest of the group anything, watching as he carefully scooped the Monkey King into his arms and headed off into what they had designated as "the med bay" with Tang following close by. "But you're gonna tell us exactly what that you mean by 'not entirely invincible' on the way, no more of this waitin to talk business! And we're going to walk there calmly."

MK couldn't find it in himself to argue.

~

"Well, shit," Pigsy sighed after MK rushed through the conversation he had shared with his mentor, pinching the bridge of his snout with a sigh. "That's... bad. That explains a whole lot about a lot of stuff, like how he managed to get himself caught on New Years, at least... You're sure he's still immortal?"

"Yeah," MK nodded, leaning into the grip Mei had on his shoulder as they walked. "Yeah, he made it a point to insist he still couldn't die."

"That's... good, right?" Mei offered with a chuckle, her usual exuberance seeming shaken up after seeing the state of the immortal monkey. "That means he'll get better!"

They paused at the entrance to the med bay, really more a spare bedroom they had stocked all the medical supplies Sandy apparently hoarded into, and MK gulped. He thought over Wukong's words, trying to find any piece he could to pick it apart. See exactly what, if anything, may have been just more half truths... he didn't want to believe he was still hiding things, not after that display of dropping the glamor. But MK himself had claimed he would explain everything to the others before... and lied still... and he was more like Sun Wukong than he first realized.

"I-I think so," he finally settled on an answer as they walked in, Sandy's back being the first sight they were greeted with. He could see the bottom half of Wukong's legs and feet, and Tang standing on the opposite side of the bed, as they were doing... something. "He said I was half invincible so... maybe he's still half himself? But he said they'd 'probably heal eventually' so..."

"Maybe he just meant they wouldn't scar!" Mei offered with a smile, moving to grip MK's hand. "Come on... we can't stop thinking about the good outcomes now..."

He turned, looking at his best friend. Her smile was off, uncertain, dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep. None of them had slept well the last two nights. But her eyes, despite the uncertainty they shared with her smile, were as bright and hopeful as ever.

"Yeah..." MK said with a small smile.

"As much as we'd appreciate the help," Tang said suddenly, moving from behind the bed to stand before them. He had removed his scarf and robe, something that looked bizarre and wrong outside of seeing him in his sleep wear, and instead wore a simple tank top and his regular pants. He had gloves on... already spotted in red. "This room is a little cramped with all five of us and a bed."

"I'll go make us food," Pigsy said immediately, laying a hand on MK's back as he addressed Tang. "We don't gotta eat it when it's finished it's just... gonna be ready for when you're done, ok?"

MK couldn't help but smile a bit. Pigsy didn't just make food and let it sit, not normally. The only other time he could ever remember him doing that was after... DBK. After they volunteered to help clean up the city from the damage his possession caused. He'd made pots and pots of noodles and soup and plates of side dishes and buns and just kept them warm for when anyone came by to eat them. He stayed in his shop, waiting and handing out what he could.

He never once complained about the excess from the last batches, offering them for free to the first few customers the next day if they wanted it.

"Thanks, Pigsy," Tang said with a tired smile. "I think everyone is going to appreciate that."

"I'll finish the ship upkeep Sandy and I were doing," Mei offered, smiling at Sandy when he looked over his shoulder. "I've got a pretty good handle on the specifics by now."

"I trust you," Sandy said with a smile, the first thing he had said the entire time he'd joined them in the kitchen, and turned back to what he was doing.

There was an awkward silence as Tang started grabbing supplies from a cabinet to deposit on a nearby table and Pigsy and Mei turned to MK.

"I'm staying," he said firmly, but nothing could hide the shaking in his hands. "Just... I have to know how bad he is."

"OK," Pigsy said, and they made their way out before Mei turned back inside.

"When he wakes up? Give him one of these for me," she said before making a face and leaving in the opposite direction.

There was just enough of a chuckle that escaped him that MK thought he would be able to do that.

"Are you sure you want to see this?" Tang asked, far softer in tone than he had been before. "Sandy and I were already taking stock of his injuries and... MK, they're not good."

"Yeah, I'm sure," he insisted, taking in a calming breath. "I need to know exactly how angry I need to be at him."

His father figure didn't laugh, but there was amusement in his eyes as he returned back to where he was. "Alright, then you're going to need to help by handing me everything I ask for."

They settled into silence after that, and MK watched and Tang and Sandy worked to check on the unconscious immortal in the bed.

They had stripped off his robe, leaving him only in the pants he wore underneath it. He looked... he looked much worse without it on.

In addition to his eye (which seemed to have been the only hidden injury to have already healed as much as it may have) and the tear in his ear (which seemed to have at least been partly treated by himself already) his torso was littered with little cuts and scrapes. Sandy had rolled up the legs on his pants, one remaining upright and MK could see the slight swell of his knee from some kind of internal injury (probably muscular). His tail and arms were also similarly injured, one nasty gash in particular close to the end of the tail that had gotten almost as much treatment as his ear.

But on his side... there was sloppy bandaging slowly growing redder.

"Sandy, help me get this off him," Tang said, holding out his hand. "Scissors, please."

MK jolted, getting what Tang requested from the pile of stuff, watching as he carefully cut away the wrapping.

Tang winced as he finally lifted the dressing from Wukong's side, but did his model best to look as impassive as possible. There was a sizeable gash on it, large enough that Tang's entire hand barely covered it lengthwise, that had poorly treated with the lopsided gauze and bandages (probably stolen from this very room after he allowed them to treat his visible injuries). Blood had seeped through it, all fresh, and it was most likely reopened upon his fall. It looked... wrong. Not the way it should. The fur around it had been either ripped out or had fallen out and the skin was inflamed and angry.

"... no wonder he's burning up, this is becoming infected," he said evenly, detected, leaning over to look at the supplies he took from the medicine cabinet. "Sandy, I'm going to need your help moving him. MK?" He turned to the young man, face softening as he saw how pale his face had gotten at the revelations before him. "MK, I heard what you were telling Mei and Pigsy earlier. Mei's probably right, he'll be ok. OK?"

MK wanted to believe he had been, he'd been so honest after he told him to stop lying, but... but he still couldn't help but worry his mentor was still hiding more. And he felt so guilty thinking that. But he shook his head, dispelling the thoughts in his head.

"OK... what do you need?"

"Let's start with antiseptic. We need to clean this as quickly as possible."

~

It took longer than MK had hoped. And Sun Wukong had only barely stirred the entire time. Whether it was from the infectious fever or from exhaustion from using his remaining powers while sick he didn't know, but the most of a reaction they got him from was a sharp gasp and a twitch while cleaning the worst of his wounds.

Aside from that... nothing. He remained still, even as Sandy moved him without any effort and guided Tang through the medical stuff he wasn't sure how to handle.

MK knew Tang had some first aid training but this was much more than he expected him to pull off... he supposed he was learning a lot.

After a while Tang didn't need Sandy's help to move him anymore and the massive man shot MK an apologetic look before leaving. MK assumed he had left to wash up, and he did, but he eventually returned completely cleaned up with a hot cup of tea. It was the same flavor as the one he never got to finish during his conversation earlier.

He ruffled MK's hair after the young man gratefully took it, making Wukong more comfortable on Tang's instruction and pulling the covers over everything but one arm before saying something about needing to give Mei some tea as well, before leaving the three of them alone again. MK thought that, maybe, the sight of the Monkey King as he was was somehow making him... uncomfortable. No, not uncomfortable.

Sad.

He didn't say anything.

"He looked... almost fine when he saved me..." MK said after a long sip of his tea and a long silence of watching Tang handle everything else on his own, trying to squeeze his cup. Just like when he had tried before, it stayed firm. "He wasn't hurt then, not by LBD, so... he'd been keeping up those illusions since before he came. How long was he hurt?"

"There isn't really a way for us to know," Tang admitted, wrapping the fresh gauze around the king's arm as carefully as he could manage. It wouldn't have mattered if he wasn't careful, Wukong didn’t stir a bit. "It could have been hours... could have been days. With how quickly his eye healed vs his gash it's hard to tell. But my guess would be hours, given when you... when..." He trailed off, a shudder running through him. "He was actively giving you his powers, yeah? Maybe... he was giving you some of his healing abilities. Or maybe something else hurt his eye long before everything else. We just don't know."

"I think that was from Macaque," MK said with a wince, knowing he was going to have to explain more about who Macaque was eventually. "He said LBD has him under her control and he has the same injury on the opposite eye."

Tang froze for a half a second, the shine of the overhead lights on his glasses keeping Mk from seeing just what kind of expression he had. But he simply nodded, finishing up his work.

"We'll just... have to hope he'll be able to give us some better information when he wakes up," Tang said with a shrug as he removed his gloves. "This is all probably a mystery even to him... I'm going to wash up... will you be alright alone?"

"Yeah."

That was a lie, but he felt at least this one was warranted.

Because even if he wouldn't be fine he didn't want to leave.

~

It was nearly 11 hours before Sun Wukong opened his eyes again, though he didn't realize that at the time.

The morning sunlight was just barely shining through the window to the med bay, and he wondered for a moment why one of his eyes seemed to ache at the light and a tear rolled down his cheek from the strain at trying to see.

Then he remembered that he couldn't see out of it anymore. And the conversation with MK. And... passing out. In the kitchen.

This was definitely not the kitchen floor, which was bad. What he was laying on was soft and had something else laying on top of him. Which meant he had been moved to a bed.

Which meant he had been unconscious for more than a minute, which was the exact opposite of what he wanted.

He tried to move his left arm to cover his eye, but found something... holding it down. And with a little effort he moved his head, looking over to the side.

MK was slouched over on a chair, nearly face down on the blanket that covered him and holding his hand. In his other hand there was a comic book of some kind, horribly bent by his own face.

He had dark circles, much darker than he had the night before, under his eyes and there was a dried wetness on his cheeks that made Wukong's chest hurt at the sight.

He'd messed up... again. He shouldn't have held up the illusion, not for that long. He should have let it fall the moment they hit the drone and been honest instead of insisting that he go on his new Journey to the West on his own. Or at least let it fall the next day, when they questioned why he was so tired. So quiet. Why he was so still and wasn't running around the ship like they expected (the pulled muscle in his knee, which he very much noticed was tightly compressed by either a sleeve or a wrap, being the main culprit along side... that injury).

He sighed, doing his best to remove his hand from his student's carefully before gently resting it on his head and ruffling the hair there.

"...'m sorry, MK," He said tiredly. "No more secrets, I promise."

"You better mean that promise you asshole."

Wukong yelped and jumped, yelping again when it sent a jolt of pain down his side. "YOu're AwAKe!?"

MK sat up, almost smiling at the way his mentor sounded but holding it back. "Yeah... I kinda passed out after a while, but I woke up like... an hour ago? I've just been trying to get as much rest as I can, even if I'm not actually sleeping."

"That's... good," Wukong said with a nod, the way MK described the time frame feeling familiar. "So you saw... everything?"

"Everything."

"Well, shit."

"That's exactly what Pigsy said when I told him what happened," Mk said with a chuckle, reading over to grab a packet of some kind and a glass of water. "Tang gave me very specific instructions to make you take all of this. Or else."

"Or else... what?" Wukong chanced, raising an eyebrow.

"I dunno, I always took the medicine he gives me with that threat so I never got to find out," MK shrugged. "Pigsy says it's not worth finding out."

"I'll take his word for it," Wukong said with a sigh. It was probably best to take whatever it was regardless of threats, he could feel his fever still and he did not want to keep having to fight that off. So he took the medicine, a mixture of pills and some kind of powder MK mixed into his drink that made it taste oddly way too sweet and sour at the same time, and sighed as he closed his eyes again for a moment.

They sat in silence for only a minute before he spoke again.

"Your friends... did all this?" He gestured to himself, reaching up to feel the odd dressing on his ear.

"Tang and Sandy did," MK explained, and went on to tell him what happened. How they treated him. How Pigsy had food waiting for him now that he was awake. How MK stayed by his side just in case.

"Oh, and Mei wanted me to give you this," MK said before pausing, glowering at him in a way that looked odd on his student's face but probably would have looked horrifying on Mei.

"Oh... I made her that mad huh?"

"I think everyone is kinda angry at you to some degree," MK admitted before holding his mentor's hand again. "But... mostly we were worried. You're my mentor, and a part of our little group now. That's what we do. Worry about each other."

Sun Wukong felt another tear slip out of his injured eye, but not from strain.

It had been so long since anyone... worried about him.

He didn't know how much he missed knowing he was cared about like that.

[camgirlkaminari]

so ive been thinking for a while now how bonkers it is that ochako has a floatation quirk and an almost identical hairstyle to inko midoriya, and now that we're closing in on deku mastering all 7 ofa quirks, I can't stop thinking that nana, a woman who has been textually compared to inko midoriya, ALSO had a floatation quirk. i wanna ramble about it a little bit:

inko's first introduction to the comic is her telling us that she can float small objects toward herself:

she's an older generation, so her quirk isn't all that powerful compared to the kids' quirks. this is apparent when ochako comes into play and can float much larger objects, but with less control over their trajectory. i think we're not ever meant to compare the two characters' quirks, since ochako is more powerful, and can also float herself. even further, inko doesn't seem to suffer any consequences for using her floatation quirk, but since we are only shown her using it once, there's no way to know.

(i find inko to be such a strange character. she spends so much time crying and being deku's mom that we forget that she is her own person. she's married. she has a quirk. what's her job? how does she pay the bills? how did she meet her fire breathing husband? does she have parents of her own? we know so much more about everyone else's parents than we even know about the main character's mom! this feels so deliberate, even beyond the fact that we are all wondering if deku's dad is somehow ~a villain~. like I don't care about deku's dad! what's up with his fucking mom!!)

so now we're so focused on ochako's journey to mastering her quirk and learning how to float herself in addition to huge objects that we almost forget how similar to inko she started out: her hair, her face, her kindness, her strength.

spoilers ahead: 

now, like 150 chapters later, we learn about nana shimura's quirk: float. deku knows what's coming, so he asks his friend ochako, who can float, for pointers on floating. this is excellent strategy, deku! good call! you don't know anyone else who can float themselves so you learn from ochako!

meanwhile, absolutely NO MENTION of how 'hey, my mom can float stuff too! weird coincidence!' despite him remembering all might's comparison of nana to his mother.

all of this leads me to have a few theories about the nature of afo & ofa, the relationship between ochako, nana, inko, and deku, and the major themes of legacy in bnha.

theory one: Gramps For All

there's a massive theme in bnha of grandchildren of importance. first, we learn that tomura shiguraki is the grandson of nana shimura, a pro hero, one of the three factions warring for a place in post-quirk society. then we learn Eri is an instance of this: she's the granddaughter of an equally influential player. The comatose boss of the yakuza, one of the three factions warring for a place in post-quirk society.

there's all kinds of legacies in bnha: shouto, the son of the number 1 hero, a direct victim of hero society. iida, the younger brother of a hero who was victimized by a villain hell-bent on changing hero society. hawks, the son of a serial killer, a victim who perpetuates the cycle of victimization in the name of upholding hero society. all these legacies, but we don't know anything about their extended families. what are endeavor's parents like? were iida's grandparents pro heroes too? does hawks really have no other family?

and where are deku's grandparents? did they ever watch him while his single mom was working?

my theory is that afo is not dad for one, but actually gramps for one. he had children, more than one, and they each had their own children. inko is one of them, and izuku is the resulting child.

deku, grandson of all for one, one of the three factions warring for a place in post-quirk society. eri, shiguraki, and deku, each representing the groups most affected by post-quirk society: yakuza, "villains," and "heroes."

theory two: ochako & deku are cousins

why the hell does ochako look so much like inko midoriya and NOT her parents?

(in the anime, they look a lot like her, but in the manga...)

gramps for one had children, more than one, and they each had their own children.

i think that ochako may be adopted, or one of her parents is, or perhaps even inko was, so ochako's connection to biological relations is distant or non existent. she may not even know. we've seen that horikoshi doesn't make character design mistakes, and he's gotta realize that every time he draws deku & ochako in the same scene that he's drawn the same face twice.

so either he's trying to throw us off, or he's making a grander statement about who they are. he's a fan of star wars- he's already done a reverse of "I am your father" with touya & endeavor, so I think it would be interesting if he's set up this ochako/deku thing as a fun homage to luke/leia, too. but they're cousins, not twins.

(that's just deku times two, babey!)

inko, unconnected to her family as she seems, may never know if she had siblings or half-siblings. ochako's parents may never have known about ochako's biological relations.

this is a much weaker theory, but i think quirk singularity theory can make some sense of it. we have the original float quirk user, nana shimura. I don't think she is related in any way to inko or ochako, but her quirk helps demonstrate the generational growth of power. she was a hero before all might, meaning she's an earlier generation and had an arguably weaker quirk. but since she was a hero, she honed her quirk so that it comes across as incredibly strong, however she seems to have only been able to float herself, not objects or people.

float quirk user number two, inko midoriya, who can float small objects toward herself. she's the next generation after nana, so her quirk is still kind of weak, and in fact looks incredibly weak compared to nana's and ochako's quirks. inko is a nobody, not a hero, just deku's mom. she had no reason to hone her quirk. who knows? maybe if she'd gone on to be a hero, she could float entire buildings if she wanted to.

float quirk user three, ochako uraraka. ochako can float objects AND herself. she's a hero and a strategist, and incredibly strong despite being 16. she can float pieces of buildings and people and herself all at once. she's a hero. she's powerful. she's thoughtful & kind, yet willful and strong. she's the ultimate culmination of the other floatation quirks as well as inko & nana's personalities. but since we were introduced to these three float quirks all out of order, it's difficult to see the exponential power growth that happens each successive generation.

I don't think that ochako's ever going to be a major player in the end of all for one, or even the plot overall, but i think the THEME of ochako being the ultimate floatation hero in the series is a major player in the final story. ochako REPRESENTS the singularity. the generation after ochako will be so strong, perhaps her descendants would be able to negate all gravity in the vicinity, maybe on the planet. who knows! even if ochako isn't related to deku, let's say dechako happens, they have babies. that's a lot of float quirk in one couple! their kids are gonna have no bones! no muscle development because they never have to fight gravity! ochako's existence represents such a huge, yet nearly invisible thematic element of bnha.

tldr: ochako looks exactly like inko and has a cumulative float quirk reminiscent of both inko & nana, and i suspect the parallels between the three is deliberate for some reason. i just think that's neat.

[sabugabr]

Why the Clone problem in Star Wars animated media is also a Mandalorian problem, and why we have to talk about it (PART 2)

Hi! I finally finished wrapping this up, so here’s part 2 of what has already become a mini article (you can find Part 1 here, if you like!)

And for this part, it won’t be as much as a critic as part 1 was, but instead I’d like to focus more on what I consider to be a wasted potential regarding the representation of the Clones in the Star Wars animated media, from the first season of The Clone Wars till now, and why I believe it to be an extension of the Mandalorian problem I discussed in part 1 —  the good old colonialism.

Sources used, as always, will be linked at the end of this post!

PART 2: THE CLONES

Cody will never know peace

So I’d like to state that I won’t focus as much on the blatantly whitewashing aspect, for I believe it to be very clear by now. If you aren’t familiar with it, I highly recommend you search around tumblr and the internet, there are a lot of interesting articles and posts about it that explain things very didactically and in detail. The only thing you need to know to get this started is that even at the first seasons of Clone Wars (when the troopers still had this somewhat darker skin complexion and all) they were still a whitewashed version of Temuera Morrison (Jango’s actor). And from then, as we all know, they only got whiter and whiter till we get where we are now, in rage.

Look at this very ambiguously non-white but still westernized men fiercely guarding their pin-up space poster

Now look at this still westernized but slightly (sarcasm) whiter men who for some reason now have different tanning levels among them (See how Rex now has a lighter skin tone? WHEN THE HELL DID THAT HAPPEN KKKKKKK) Anyway you got the idea. So without further ado...

2.1 THE FANTASY METAPHOR

As I mentioned before in Part 1, one thing that has to be very clear if you want to follow my train of thought is that it’s impossible to consume something without attributing cultural meanings to it, or without making cultural associations. This things will naturally happen and it often can improve our connection to certain narratives, especially fantastic ones. Even if a story takes place in a fantastic/sci fi universe, with all fictional species and people and worlds and cultures, they never come from nowhere, and almost always they have some or a lot of basing in real people and cultures. And when done properly, this can help making these stories resonate in a very beautifull, meaningfull way. I actually believe this intrisic cultural associations are the things that make these stories work at all. As the brilliant american speculative/science fiction author Ursula K. Le Guin says in the introduction (added in 1976) of her novel The Left Hand of Darkness, and that I was not able to chopp much because it’s absolutely genious and i’ll be leaving the link to the full text right here,

“The purpose of a thought-experiment, as the term was used by Schrodinger and other physicists, is not to predict the future — indeed Schrodinger's most famous thought-experiment goes to show that the ‘future,’ on the quantum level, cannot be predicted — but to describe reality, the present world.

Science fiction is not predictive; it is descriptive.”

[...] “Fiction writers, at least in their braver moments, do desire the truth: to know it, speak it, serve it. But they go about it in a peculiar and devious way, which consists in inventing persons, places, and events which never did and never will exist or occur, and telling about these fictions in detail and at length and with a great deal of emotion, and then when they are done writing down this pack of lies, they say, There! That's the truth!

They may use all kinds of facts to support their tissue of lies. They may describe the Marshalsea Prison, which was a real place, or the battle of Borodino, which really was fought, or the process of cloning, which really takes place in laboratories, or the deterioration of a personality, which is described in real textbooks of psychology; and so on. This weight of verifiable place-event-phenomenon-behavior makes the reader forget that he is reading a pure invention, a history that never took place anywhere but in that unlocalisable region, the author's mind. In fact, while we read a novel, we are insane —bonkers. We believe in the existence of people who aren't there, we hear their voices, we watch the battle of Borodino with  them, we may even become Napoleon. Sanity returns (in most cases) when the book is closed.”

[...] “ In reading a novel, any novel, we have to know perfectly well that the whole thing is nonsense, and then, while reading, believe every word of it. Finally, when we're done with it, we may find — if it's a good novel — that we're a bit different from what we were before we read it, that we have been changed a little, as if by having met a new face, crossed a street we never crossed before. But it's very hard to say just what we learned, how we were changed.

The artist deals with what cannot be said in words.

The artist whose medium is fiction does this within words. The novelist says in words what cannot be said in words. Words can be used thus paradoxically because they have, along with a semiotic usage, a symbolic or metaphoric usage. [...]  All fiction is metaphor. Science fiction is metaphor. What sets it apart from older forms of fiction seems to be its use of new metaphors, drawn from certain great dominants of our contemporary life — science, all the sciences, and technology, and the relativistic and the historical outlook, among them. Space travel is one of these metaphors; so is an alternative society, an alternative biology; the future is another. The future, in fiction, is a metaphor.

A metaphor for what?” [1]

A metaphor for what indeed. I won’t be going into what Star Wars as a whole is a metaphor for, because I am certain that it varies from person to person, and everyone can and has the total right to take whatever they want from this story, and understand it as they see fit. That’s why it’s called the modern myth. And therefore, all I’ll be saying here is playinly my take not only on what I understand the Clones to be, but what I believe they could have meant.

2.2 SO, BOBA IS A CLONE

I don’t want to get too repetitive, but I wanted to adress it because even though I by no means intend to put Boba and the Clones in the same bag, there is one aspect about them that I find very similar and interesting, that is the persue of individuality. While the Clones have this very intrinsically connected to their narratives, in Boba’s case this appears more in his concept design. As I mentioned in Part 1, one of the things the CW staff had in mind while designing the mandalorians is that they wanted to make Boba seem unique and distinguishable from them, and honestly even in the original trilogy he stands out a lot. He is unique and memorable and that’s one of the things that draws us to him.

And as we all know, both Boba and Jango and the Clones are played by Temuera Morrison — and occasionally by the wonderful Bodie Taylor and Daniel Logan. And Temuera Morrison comes from the Maori people. And differently from the mandalorian case, where we were talking about a whole planet, in this situation we’re talking about portraying one single person, so there’s nowhere to go around his appearance and phenotypes, right? I mean, you are literally representing an actual individual, so there’s no way you could alter their looks, right?

(hahahaha wrong)

And besides that, I think that is in situations like that (when we are talking about individuals) that the actor’s perspective could really have a place to shine (just the same as how Lea was mostly written by Carrie Fisher). In this very heart-warming interview for The New York Times (which you can read full signing up for their 5-free-articles-per-month policy), Temuera Morrison talks a little bit about how he incorporated his cultural background to Boba Fett in The Mandalorian:

“I come from the Maori nation of New Zealand, the Indigenous people — we’re the Down Under Polynesians — and I wanted to bring that kind of spirit and energy, which we call wairua. I’ve been trained in my cultural dance, which we call the haka. I’ve also been trained in some of our weapons, so that’s how I was able to manipulate some of the weapons in my fight scenes and work with the gaffi stick, which my character has.” [2]

The Gaffi stick (or Gaderffii), btw, is the weapon used by the Tusken Raiders on Tatooine, and according to oceanic art expert Bruno Claessens it’s design was inspired by wooden Fijian war clubs called totokia. [3]

And I think is very clear how this background can influence one’s performance and approach to a character, and majorly how much more alive this character will feel like. Beyond that, having an actor from your culture to play and add elements to a character will higly improve your sense of connection with them (besides all the impact of seeying yourself on screen, and seeying yourself portrayed with respect). It would only make sense if the cultural elements that the actor brought when giving life to a fictional individual would’ve been kept and even deepened while expanding this role. And if you’re familiar with Star Wars Legends you’ll probably rememeber that in Legends Jango would train and raise all Clone troopers in the Mandalorian culture, so that the Clones would sing traditional war chants before battles, be fluent in Mando’a (Mandalore’s language) and some would proudly take mandalorian names for themselves. So why didn’t Filoni Inc. take that into account when they went to delve into the clones in The Clone Wars?

2.3 THE WHITE MINORITY

First of all I’d like to state that all this is 100% me conjecturing, and by no means at all I’m saying that this is what really happened. But while I was re-watching CW before The Bad Batch premiere, something came to my mind regarding the whitewashing of the Clones, and I’d like to leave that on the table.

So, you know this kind of recent movies and series that depicted like, fairies in this fictional world where fairies were very opressed, but there would be a lot of fairies played by white actors? Just like Bright and Carnival Row. If you’ve watched some of these and have some racial conscience, you’ll probably know where I’m going here. And the issue with it is that often this medias will portray real situations of racism and opression and prejudice, but all applied to white people. Like in Carnival Row, when going to work as a maid in a rich human house, our girl Cara Delevingne had to fight not to have her braids (which held a lot of significance in her culture) cut by her intolerant human mistress, because the braids were not “appropriate”. Got it? hahahaha what a joy

Look at her ethnic braids!!!

One of the reasons this happens might be to relieve a white audience of the burden of watching these stories and feeling what I like to call “white guilt”. Because, as we all know, white people were never very oppressed.  Historically speaking, white people have always been in privileged social positions, and in an exploitative relationship between two ethnic groups, white people very usually would be the exploiters  —  the opressors. So while watching situations (that every minority would know to be very real) of opression in fiction, if these situations were lived by a white actor, there would be no real-life associations, because we have no historical parameter to associate this situation with anything in real life — if you are white. Thus, there is less chance that, when consuming one of these narratives, whoever is watching will question the "truthfulness" of these situations (because it's not "real racism", see, "they're just fairies"). It's easier for a person to watch without having to step out of their comfort zone, or confront the reality of real people who actually go through things like that. There's even a chance that this might diminish empathy for these people.

Once again, not saying this is specifically the case of the Clones, majorly because one of the main feelings you have when watching CW is exactly empathy for the troopers (at least for me, honestly, the galaxy could explode, I just wanted those poor men to be happy for God’s sake). But I’ll talk more about it later.

The thing is, the whole thing with the Clones, if you think about it, it’s not pretty. If you step on little tiny bit outside the bubble of “fictional fantasy”, the concept is very outrageous. They are kept in conditions analogous to slavery, to say the least. To say the more, they were literally made in an on-demand lab to serve a purpose they are personally not a part of, for which they will neither receive any reward nor share any part of the gains. On the contrary, as we saw in The Bad Batch, as soon as the war was over and the clones were no longer useful as cannonballs, they were discarded. In the (wonderful) episode 6 of the third season of (the almost flawless) Rebels, “The Last Battle”, we're even personally introduced to the analogy that there really wasn't much difference in value between clones and droids, something that was pretty clear in Clone Wars but hadn't been said explicitly yet.

In fact, technically the Separatists can be considered to be more human than the Republic. But that's just my opinion.

So, you had this whole army of pretty much slaves. I know this is a heavy term, but these were people who were originally stripped of any sense of humanity or individuality, made literally to go to war and die in it, doing so purely in exchange for food and lodging, under the false pretense that they belonged to a glorious purpose (yes, Loki me taught that term, that was the only thing I absorbed from this series). Doing all this under extremely precarious conditions from which they had no chance of getting out, actually, getting out was tantamount to the death penalty. They were slaves. In milder terms, an oppressed minority. And again, I don't know if that was the case, but I can understand why Filoni Inc would be apprehensive about representing phenotically indigenous people in this situation. Especially since we in theory should see Anakin and Obi-Wan as the good guys.

(and here I’d like to leave a little disclaimer that I believe the whole Anakin-was-a-slave-once plot was HUGELY misused (and honestly just badly done) both in the prequels and in the animeted series  — maybe for the best, since he was, you know, white and all that, and I don’t know how the writers would have handled it, but ANYWAY — I believe this could have been further explored, particularly regarding his relationship with the Clones, and how it could have influenced his revolt against the Jedi, and manipulated to add to his anger and all that. I mean, we already HAD the fact that Anakin shared a deeper conection with his troopers than usual)

Yes, Rex, you have common trauma experiences to share. But anyway, backing to my track

As I was saying, we are to see them as good guys, and maybe that could’ve been tricky if we saw them hooping up on slavery practices. Like, idk, a “nice” sugar plantation owner? (I don’t know the correct word for it in english, but in portuguese they were called senhores de engenho) Like this guy from 12 Years a Slave?

You know, the slave owner who was “nice”. IDK, anyway  

No one will ever watch Clone Wars and make this association (I believe not, at least), of course not. But if we were to see how CW deepened the clone arcs, and see them as phenotypically indigenous, subjected to certain situations that occur in CW (yes, like Umbara), maybe some kind of association would’ve been easier to make.

I mean, come onnnn I can’t be the only one seeing it

You see, maybe not the whole 12 Years a Slave association one, but I don’t think it’s hard to see there was something there. And maybe this could’ve been even more evident if they looked non-white. Because historically, both black peoples and indigenous peoples went through processes of slavery, from which we as a society are still impacted today. And to slave a people, the first thing you have to do is strip them from their humanity. So it might be easier to see this situation and apply it to real life. And maybe that could lead to a whole lot of other questions regarding the Clones, the Republic, the Jedi, and even how chill Obi-Wan was about all this. We might come out of it, as lady Ursula Le Guin stated in the fragment above, a bit different from what we were before we watch it.

Maybe even unconsciously, Filoni Inc thought we would be more confortable watching if they just looked white (and because of colonialism and all that, but I’m adding thoughts here).

And of course I don’t like the idea of, idk, looking at Obi-Wan and thinking about Benedict Cumberbatch in 12 Years a Slave or something like that. Of course that, if the Clones were to play the same role as they did in the prequels, to obediently serve the Jedi and quietly die for them, that would have been bad, and hurtfull, and pejorative if added to all that I said here. But the thing is that Clone Wars, consciously or not, already solved that. At least to my point of view, they already managed to approach this situation in an incredible competent way, that is giving them agency.

2.4 AGENCY AND INDIVIDUALITY

So, one of the things I love most in Clone Wars is how it really feels like it’s about the Clones. Like, we have the bigger scene of Palpatine taking over, Ahsoka’s growth arc, Anakin’s turn to The Dark Side, the dawn of the Jedi and rise of the Empire and all that, but it also has this idk, vibe, of there’s actually something going on that no one in scene is talking about? And this something is the Clones. We have these episodes spread throughout the seasons, even out of chronological order, which when watched together tell a parallel story to the war, to everything I mentioned. Which is a story about individuals. Clone Wars manages to, in a (at least to me) very touching way, make the Clones be the heros. 

Can you really look me in the eye and say that Five’s story didn’t CRASH you like a full-speed train???? He may not have the same amount of screen-time as the protagonists, but his story is just as important as theirs (and to me, it might be the most meaningful one). Because he is the first to break free from the opression cicle all the Clones were trapped into. 

His story can be divided into 6 phases.

1 - First, the construction of his individuality, in other words, the reclaiming of his humanity. 

2 - Then the assimilation of understanding yourself as an individual of value, and then extending this to all his brothers, not as a unit, but as a set of individuals collectively having this same newly discovered value.

3 - This makes him realize that in the situation they find themselves in, they are not being recognized as such. This makes him question the reality of their situation.

4 - Freed from the illusion of his state, he seeks the truth about it.

5 - This then leads him to seek liberation not just for himself, but for all the Clones (it's basically Plato's Cave, and I'm not exaggerating here).

6 - And finally, precisely because he has assimilated his individuality and sought freedom for himself and his brothers, he is punished for it.

His story is all about agency. Agency, according to the Wikipedia page that is the first to appear if you type “agency” on Google, is that agency is “the abstract principle that autonomous beings, agents, are capable of acting by themselves” [4], and this abstract principle can be dissected in 7 segments:

Law - a person acting on behalf of another person

Religious -  "the privilege of choice... introduced by God"

Moral -  capacity for making moral judgments

Philosophical -  the capacity of an autonomous agent to act, relating to action theory in philosophy

Psychological -  the ability to recognize or attribute agency in humans and non-human animals

Sociological -  the ability of social actors to make independent choices, relating to action theory in sociology

Structural - ability of an individual to organize future situations and resource distribution

All of them apply here. And this is just the story of one Clone. We know there are many others throughout the series. 

Agency is what can make the world of a difference when you are telling a story about an opressed minority. Because opressed minorities do exist, and opression exists, and if you are insecure about consuming a fictional media about opressed minorities, see if they have agency might be a good place to start. So that’s why I think that everything I said before in 2.3 falls short. Because the solution already existed, and was indeed done. Honestly, making the non-agency representation of the Clones (the one we see in the prequels) to be the one played by Temuera Morrison, and then giving them agency in the version where they appear to be white, just leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

And honestly, if they were to make the Clones look like Temuera Morrison, and by that mean, take more inspiration in the Māori culture, maybe they wouldn’t even have to change much of their representation besides their facial features. As I said in part 1, I am not by any means an expert in polynesian cultures, but there was something that really got me while I was researching about it. And is the facial tattoos. More precisely, the tā moko. 

2.5  TĀ MOKO

Once again I’ll be using the Te Ara: The Encyclopedia of New Zealand as source, and you can find the articles used linked at the end of this post. 

Etymologically speaking,

“The term moko traditionally applied to male facial tattooing, while kauae referred to moko on the chins of women. There were other specific terms for tattooing on other parts of the body. Eventually ‘moko’ came to be used for Māori tattooing in general.” [5]

So moko is the correct name for the characteristic tattoos we often see when we look for Māori culture. 

These ones ^. Please also look this book up, it’s beautiful. It’s written by  Ngahuia Te Awekotuku, a New Zealand academic specialising in Māori cultural issues and a lesbian activist. She’s wonderful. 

According to the Tourism NewZealand website, 

“In Māori culture, it [moko] reflects the individual's whakapapa (ancestry) and personal history. In earlier times it was an important signifier of social rank, knowledge, skill and eligibility to marry.”

“Traditionally men received moko on their faces, buttocks and thighs. Māori face tattoos are the ultimate expression of Māori identity. Māori believe the head is the most sacred part of the body, so facial tattoos have special significance.”

[...] “The main lines in a Māori tattoo are called manawa, which is the Māori word for heart.” [6]

Therefore, in the Māori culture, there’s this incredibly deep meaning attributed to the (specific of their culture) tattooing of the face. The act of tattooing the body, any part of the body, is incredibly powerful in many cultures around the globe. The adornment of the body can have different meanings for these different cultures, but all of which I've come into contact with do mean a lot. It’s one of the oldest and most beautiful human expressions of individuality and identity. 

And in the Star Wars universe, the Clones are the group that has the deeper connection to, and the best narrative regarding, tattoos. In fact, besides Hera’s father, Cham Syndulla, the Clones are the only individuals to have tattooed skin, at least that I can recall of. And they do share a deep connection to it. 

For the Clones, the tattoos (added to hairstyles) are the most meaningful way in which they can express themselves. Is what makes them distinguishable from each other to other people. Tattoos are one of the things that represent them as individuals.

And I’m not BY ANY MEANS sayin that the Clones facial tattoos = Moko. That’s not my point. But that’s one of the things I meant when I said earlier about the wasted potential of the representation of the Clones (in my point of view). Because maybe if it were their intention to base the culture of the clones after the polynesian culture, maybe if it were their intention to make the Clones actually look like Temuera Morrison, this could have meant a whole deal. More than it’d appear looking to it from outside this culture. Maybe if there were actual polynesian people in the team that designed the Clones and wrote them (or at least indigenous people, something), who knows what we could’ve had. 

Even in Hunter’s design, I noticed that if you take for example this frame of Temuera from the movie River Queen (2005), where we can have a closer look at the design of his tā moko

Speaking purely plastically (because I don’t want to get into the movie itself, just using it as example because then I can use Temuera himself as a comparison), see the lines around the contours of his mouth? Now look at Hunter’s. 

I find it interesting that they choose to design this lines coming from around his nose like that. But at this point I am stretching A LOT into plastic and semiotics, so this comparison is just a little thing that got my attention. I know that his tattoo is a skull and etc etc, I’m just poiting this out. And it even makes me a little frustrated, because they could have taken so many interesting paths in the Bad Batch designs. But instead they choose to pay homage to Rambo. And I mean, I like Rambo, I think he’s cool and all that.

Look at him doing Filipino martial arts

But then, as we say in Brasil, they had the knife and the cheese in their hands (all they had to do was cut the cheese, but they didn’t). Istead, it seems like in order to make Hunter look like Rambo, they made him even whiter??? 

2.6 SO...

Look, I love The Clone Wars. I’m crazy about it. I love the Clones, I love their stories and plots. They are great characters and one of the greatest addings ever made in the Star Wars universe. They even have, in my opinion, the best soundtrack piece to feature in a Star Wars media since John Williams’ wonderful score. It just feels to me as if their narrative core is full of bagage, and meanings, and associations that were just wiped under the carpet when they suddenly became white. It just feels to me as if, once again, they were trying to erase the person behing the trooper mask, and the people they were to represent, and the history they should evoke.

I don’t know why they were whitewashed. Maybe it was just the old due racism and colonialism. Maybe it was meant for us to not question the Jedi, or our good guys, or the real morality of this fictional universe where we were immersed. But then, was it meant for what?

The Clones were a metaphor for what? 

(spoiler: the answer still contains colonialism)

Thank you so much for reading !!!! (and congratulations for getting this far, you are a true hero)

SOURCES USED IN THIS:

[1] Ursulla K. Le Guin, 'The Left Hand of Darkness', 14th ACE print run of June, 1977

[2] Dave Itzkoff, 'Being Boba Fett: Temuera Morrison Discusses ‘The Mandalorian’', The New York Times, published Dec. 7, 2020, https://www.nytimes.com/2020/12/07/arts/television/the-mandalorian-boba-fett-temuera-morrison.html (accessed 15 September 2021)

[3] Bruno Claessens, 'George Lucas' "Star Wars" and Oceanic art' , Archived from the original on December 5, 2020, https://web.archive.org/web/20201205114353/http://brunoclaessens.com/2015/07/george-lucas-star-wars-and-oceanic-art/#.YEiJ-p37RhF (accessed 15 September 2021)

[4]  Wikipedia contributors, "Agency," Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Agency&oldid=1037924611 (accessed September 17, 2021)

[5] Rawinia Higgins, 'Tā moko – Māori tattooing - Origins of tā moko', Te Ara - the Encyclopedia of New Zealand, http://www.TeAra.govt.nz/en/ta-moko-maori-tattooing/page-1 (accessed 17 September 2021)

[6] Tourism New Zealand, ‘The meaning of tā moko, traditional Māori tattoos’,  The Tourism New Zealand website, https://www.newzealand.com/us/feature/ta-moko-maori-tattoo/ (accessed 17 September 2021)

[harrysweasleys]

a little sunshine never hurt // d.m

Summary: hi alexa!!! if your requests are still open, could i request a draco x reader fic? in it’s the first day of holidays/vacation and the reader and draco are best friends who (obviously) have feelings for the other but think the other doesn’t like them that way, and they’re having a picnic at malfoy manor, relaxing in the sun reading or doing homework and draco just blurts it and confession + kiss?? if you can’t there’s no problem! thanks 🥰💓

Warnings: mentions of food! also v v short but v v sweet (also not proofread/edited so pls dont come @ me)

Word count: 1.9k

a/n: yikes, so completely ignore my message about not posing a fic before christmas because here i am, posting another fic before christmas. hope you all enjoy!!! xx [I DO NOT GIVE CONSENT OR PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE REPOSTED ON ANY OTHER PLATFORM!]

— —

Ah, finally summer break.

The start of the holidays meant that you’d now have a good months time to catch up on rest, relaxation, and obviously, assignments. Though you usually disliked the prospect of doing homework while on vacation, you couldn’t help but feel a little thankful at the fact that you now had something to keep your mind laced on magic while you were away from Hogwarts. 

Though you were staying with Draco for the first two weeks — where magic was very much present — you still liked to learn. You liked to keep that ever-growing passion for the magical arts, and you were most likely going to finish every single project within the first week of the break.

Draco, however, had different thoughts.

“Bloody ridiculous,” he scoffed, raising his hand to move his blond bangs out of his face, “Giving out homework while we’re on break? What kind of git does that?”

“Those are your professors, Draco,” you grinned, turning to face him, squinting slightly in the blinding sunlight, “Have a little respect, yeah?”

He rolled his eyes, laying back down on the freshly mowed lawn, his dark clothing most likely scorching his skin under the blazing afternoon sun, “Is giving out homework a show of respect? I don’t think so.”

You leaned up on your elbows, a fresh summer breeze rolling through and pushing your hair over your shoulder. It wasn’t necessarily a cold breeze, but it did cause you to let out a small shiver. Draco’s eyes followed you as you sat up properly, crossing you legs and reaching into the tiny basket that carried your snacks.

He had asked you to share a picnic lunch with him today, which came as a bit of an odd question, to be honest. A picnic? You knew Draco wasn’t the kind of person to ‘enjoy the fresh air’ so it was a little bit of a strange request coming from him, to be honest. But there was no bloody way you’d complain. An outdoor lunch with him meant that you got to spend more time one on one — it meant that you’d get to continue seeing the side of him that he chose not to show anyone else.

He was quite a complex fellow, if you were to be honest. In school, he closed himself off. He hid away from the world and kept his cold exterior up, not daring to let anyone in. You had gotten through to him — after trying for multiple years, of course — but there really was nothing better than seeing him as relaxed as he was when he was home. Maybe ‘relaxed’ isn’t the proper term; but he did have a totally different air. Less arrogant, less obnoxious, and definitely less pompous. 

It didn’t help your ever-blossoming crush in the slightest.

“Can you toss me an apple?” he asked, now mimicking your position and crossing his legs as well. His knee brushed against yours, and even though you were both clothed, you felt a jolt of sparks rush through your body. 

You let out a small cough to clear your throat, “Sure.”

Completely forgetting whatever it was that you were looking for in the first place, you tossed him the bright green apple that he had insisted on bringing to lunch. You were surprised that the Malfoy family didn’t decide to grow their own apple trees, to be honest, with how often Draco would scavenge the pantries for the perfect one to eat, they’d most likely be better off by growing some in their own vast yard.

“What are your plans for the summer, then?” he asked, taking a big bite, crunching loudly and closing his eyes as he craned his head up to look at the sky. 

Your mouth went dry at the sight of him, his defined jawline and smooth neck looking sharper than ever under the bright sunlight, casting shadows around the base of his neck. His platinum hair hurt your eyes to look at, but even then, you’d love nothing more than to run your hands through it. While he rested his head on your lap, while you made out in bed, while you —

“Are you ignoring me?” he snapped your attention back to reality with the low chuckle in his throat.

“No. No, sorry, just got caught in a daydream,” you turned away from him, hiding the growing redness on your cheeks before trying your best to play it off, “I don’t really have plans for the remainder of summer, honestly. Just taking it one day at a time.”

You laid back down on the grass next to him, resting your arm at your side and brushing your fingers against Draco’s. Your heart jolted and you tried to quickly pull your hand away, but you felt his finger twitch against your skin, his pinky finger locking with yours.

It was as if you totally forgot to breathe.

“I’m happy to have you here,” he said softly, placing the unfinished apple down on top of the closed basket, giving you his undivided attention, “I’m gonna miss you when you leave.”

You could hardly think straight, but you couldn’t give in to his charm that easily. He’d only tease you for the rest of the break, wouldn’t he? But, it was hard not to give in. His finger was awfully soft locked with yours, and you could feel both the heat from his body next to you, on top of your own body temperature spiking. It was way too warm to be in the sunshine.

“I’m happy to be here, too,” you replied, voice awfully quiet. You were almost sure he didn’t hear you, but the way that his hand gave yours a little squeeze, you knew that he did. 

You two were often on the same page, it was rare he didn’t know exactly how you were feeling. And it was rare that you didn’t know exactly how he was feeling. Right now was one of those rare moments. You couldn’t tell if he was honestly just pleased to have you here — mostly to help him deal with his pain in the ass father — or if this was something more. More than friendship, more than just... platonic. You couldn’t tell what he was feeling and it was driving you absolutely bonkers.

How could you even begin to ask him? Could you even ask? How would that go?

“Hey, Draco, I think I like you.” Pathetic, really. What a way to embarrass yourself.

You felt his hand give yours another squeeze, “You alright?”

Turning to face him, you thought that it was now or never. When would you get another moment of privacy with him like this? Where you could tell him the truth without the possibility of being overheard? 

To weight the pros and cons; if he felt the same, you guys could get the next little while together before going your separate ways for the remainder of the holidays. But if he didn’t, you’d have to deal with the brutal awkwardness of spending the next ten days with him, knowing that your feelings were one sided. Then, you’d have to see him again once returned to school. It wasn’t a very balanced list, in your opinion.

“I’m fine,” you turned to face him, forcing a small smile. 

As mentioned before, Draco could always tell how you were feeling. Which is why he pulled his hand from yours, turning over on his side to look at you. With furrowed eyebrows and concerned written across his features, you wanted nothing more than to peel your eyes away from him and completely ignore his gaze. But that was nearly impossible. It’s hard to look away from Draco Malfoy.

“Something tells me you’re lying,” he said softly, eyes scanning your face as if he could read your emotions written into your skin — as if the light freckles dotting your cheeks could give him the answers he was looking for.

You sucked in a deep breath, feeling the expansion of your lungs in your chest — it felt as if you were going to crush your heart any second now. Quite an unpleasant feeling, really.

“I’m not lying,” you said, voice cracking as you spoke. The worst possible lie. There was no way he’d believe that. 

He scoffed lightly, “So you’re just going to ignore your feelings then, yeah?”

It was now your turn to sit up, leaning against one of your elbows as you turned your body to face him. His cheeks were tinted with a pale shade of pink, most likely from the burning sun. It was a rather warm afternoon for summer in England. 

“What feelings?” you asked, averting your eyes, choosing to stare at an ant crawling slowly up a blade of grass. Not fascinating, but better than giving in to Draco. 

“Y/N,” one of his hands reached over and touched your chin, lightly tilting it so you could turn your head up and face him, “I asked you to a picnic today so we could be alone, you know?”

You finally looked over to him, eyes scanning from the base of his throat, slowly up to meet his eyes, “Why?”

“Well, I thought I was being bloody obvious,” he grinned, “I like being alone with you.”

“But why?” you sounded like a child

His laugh was taunting you — effortless and relaxed. Completely juxtaposed to the raging storm of emotions going through your heart and head. How he could say something like that; so heavy and heartfelt, to acting like it was nothing, you could never understand.

“Because,” he scooted closer, his hand leaving your chin, but coming to rest atop of yours, “I don’t know how much clearer I can make this, but I like you.”

You looked over at him, eyes wide and mouth gaped open like a fish. You must look like a bloody idiot, but there was really no other way to respond to that. He liked you back. All this time, he liked you back. And you genuinely had no idea.

There were really no words you could say in response, so you decided on showing him how you felt instead,  placing your hand at the back of his neck and bringing his lips to yours. They were incredibly warm — possibly from the sun — and soft. Softer than the grass beneath your skin, and sweeter than the chocolates melting in the basket by your feet. He tasted like mint and green apple, a mixture that felt odd when spoken, but tasted like heaven when experienced.

You felt him mumble against your lips, “I’ll take it you feel the same way?”

Pulling away to let out a small laugh, you nodded your head, “If it wasn’t obvious, yes.”

“Just making sure,” he gave you a lopsided grin, his hand cupping your cheek to connect his lips to yours once again. 

— — —

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[ickle-ronniekins]

chemical reaction

request from nonnie! “hiiiii! love ur writing sm ! could I request a fic with George maybe like an enemies to lovers kind of thing? or maybe like she’d hated him and he’d actually fancied her the entire time or something? thank you!!”

pairing: george x fem!reader (no specific house)

word count: 5.7k whoops sorry

A/N: i LOVED this request; i don’t think i'd ever really written an enemies to lovers fic before.. maybe once, so i adored this. wish this could be me and him rn tbh. also, had to put a hand through the hair in there ~shoutout to my gals~ anyway, please leave feedback, comments, reblog, share with your friends if you wish, thanks!

tag list: @mintlibri @georgeweasleyx @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @darling-details @laneygthememequeen @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @waschbiber @dreamer821 @feffffffy @the-hufflepuff-of-221b @62442-am @wtfweasleyy @obsessedwithrandomthings @thoseofgreatambition @harrysweasleys @sleep-i-ness @shadychaoticcollection @haphazardhufflepuff @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @hood-and-horan @letsfightsomeorcs @theweasleysredhair @purpleskiesstorm @hxfflxpxffs @wand3ringr0s3 @finecole @angelinathebook @highly-acidic @purplefragile @90shermione @zreads @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hollands-weasley @andromedaa-tonks @bbstrawberry0421 @princessof-theuniverse @cappsikle @mytreec @imseeinggred @idont-knowrn @flyingserpxnt @auroraboringalis57 @godricsswords @jejegu | message me to be added, loves!

There was no denying the indisputable chemistry between you both. Everyone could see it. It was pretty difficult to miss, actually, especially when the two of you spent nearly every single lesson at one another’s throats.

“I’m warning you, Weasley -- stay as far away from me as you possibly can. I don’t want you and your misplaced priorities anywhere near me.”

“Wow, it is a pleasure to be insulted by you. Really.”

It all started in your third year. The very misguided and frivolous George Weasley and his brother, Fred, had decided to be prats in your Potions lesson. You’d never really had any interaction with them before that; you were their absolute and complete opposite. You’d preferred to spend most nights borrowing any and all books from the library and reading through them as quickly as you could, or spending your afternoons with the Dueling Club to further your studies with spells, charms, and incantations; whereas the two of them were always setting off fireworks in the Astronomy tower, or whatever the bloody hell two thirteen-year-old pranksters did.

Potions had been normal that day -- Snape had his usual displeased scowl painted on his face, and you were continually checking the clock and counting down the seconds until you could leave and speed off toward your History of Magic lesson. That is, until George had purposefully put the wrong ingredient into his cauldron, causing a spark, resulting in an explosion quite larger than they’d presumed and a ghastly horrible sight: one of your eyebrows burning off completely.

You’d been outraged; while the majority of the class had been too startled and shocked to let a laugh escape their lips, the twins had absolutely no issue erupting into a fit of obnoxious giggles, obviously incredibly pleased at their error. Snape had even cracked somewhat of a grin (if you could consider the edge of his lip slightly curling upward in a sort of mock expression a grin), but he still threw all three of you into detention. You! In detention! For getting your bloody eyebrow burnt off by a juvenile boy!

You and George hadn’t been the fondest of one another since.

In an attempt to separate yourself from him, you’d completely changed course -- McGonagall had been able to help you switch out some of your lessons for others. You didn't really want to take Divination, but if it meant being away from him for an hour and a half of your day, then so be it. You were going to have to be okay with your choices.

Until you heard the sardonic, cool wash of his voice from behind you.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

He sluggishly fell into the seat next to you; (of course, it being the only open spot left as he’d arrived precisely two minutes after the bell signaling the start of the lesson) he propped his feet up on the table in between you both. With your mouth still agape and brows threaded together, you angrily shoved his feet off of the table and slammed your spellbook down in place of them. “What the bloody hell are you doing here?” you huffed, folding your arms across your chest. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be right now? Like setting fire to a third year’s eyebrows? Or detention, perhaps?”

He scoffed airily. “Oh, hilarious, darling -- really; right fantastic joker, you are. No, you see, contrary to popular belief, I don’t spend every waking hour cleaning out cauldrons, or --”

You cut him off, “Oh, and here I was thinking that you’d make a perfectly adequate cauldron cleaner if a full time opportunity were to present itself.”

He didn’t skip a beat. “-- or setting fire to third year’s eyebrows.”

“No?”

“No,” he replied throatily. And then, that all too familiar smirk of his. “Only to those who deserve it.”

You were about to snap back with some snarky retort, but thankfully Trelawney’s very soft-spoken voice floated through the room and managed to calm you down a bit. It didn’t stop you from sneering at George completely though, as he relaxed back into his chair and grinned to himself like an idiot.

You yanked your spellbook off of the table and turned to the desired page; you didn’t really fancy the idea of doing more research on crystal gazing, palmistry, ornithomancy, and tessomancy, but seeing as N.E.W.Ts were coming up, it only made sense that Professor Trelawney would make you revisit these desired areas of study.

“Gaze into the beyond!” she cried, “and tell your partner what you see!”

George very obviously rolled his eyes as you peered closely into the crystal ball. You couldn’t see anything except smoke, and so you furrowed your brows even more, as if to will yourself to concentrate. It was no use. You hated this subject; you’d only taken it to get away from him, anyway! He scoffed at the sight of you concentrating fiercely. “And what is it,” he asked you in an uncanny expression of your professor, “that you see?”

You shot him a glance and backed away from the crystal ball, scribbling something down on your parchment, and then turning your attention back toward him. “I see myself trying to lower my blood pressure and focus on my work,” you said cheerily, “because the idiot sat across from me is being an even bigger git than normal.”

“Wow,” he replied, his voice fierce with mock surprise. He widened his eyes and nodded his head fervently. “You’re really rubbish at this, aren’t you?”

His quips made your blood boil.

It felt as if it were hours before the lesson had ended; when the bell rang mercifully, you packed up your things in a rush and nearly sprinted out of the classroom, without a last glance or a word to George. This was going to be a long bloody year.

-- -

“So what’ve you been learning in Divination, Georgie?”

You groaned and placed your head directly on top of your parchment. Why is it that they always seem to end up where you are? This was the library, they had absolutely no business being here. This was your turf, and it always had been.

“Little of this, little of that,” George replied to his brother, his voice merry. “Been revisiting some old tasks to prep for N.E.W.Ts. Oh, that reminds me -- I was crystal gazing the other day.”

“Yeah?” Fred’s voice heightened. You could hear the smirk and the eyebrow raise. “And what did you see?”

“Well, it was kind of difficult to tell,” George said, “my huffy, stuffy partner kept distracting me with her bloody obnoxious sighs every single time I so much as blinked in her direction.”

You slammed shut the very large book you were reading as the twins and their friends erupted into laughter, swiveled your way through students, and returned the book to its proper place on the shelf. To your delight, Madam Pince was not too keen on noise in the library, and immediately began scolding them. This didn’t stop George from sending you a wink and a shake of the head before you vanished in the corridor. Merlin, he was going to drive you bloody mad.

-- -

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Had your friends gone absolutely bonkers? He fancies you. You couldn’t seem to shake the phrase from your head no matter how hard you tried -- it was that outrageous and that hilarious.

There was no way that George Weasley fancied you -- for one, the two of you could not be more different. Secondly, if he really did, and he was still busy treating you like he loathed you, then that could mean only one thing: that he had the personality of a five-year-old. Yes, like that of a five-year-old boy chasing and pushing and teasing a five-year-old girl on the playground at primary school. And then, you figured, he was just as immature as he seemed.

“Perhaps you could make it a less.. hostile environment,” your mate told you one afternoon over lunch. “Clear the air a bit.”

“There’s nothing to clear,” you told her gruffly, picking at your sandwich. “He’s a git -- always has been, always will be.”

She began to laugh. “But you don’t really know that, do you? I mean, yeah, sure, he was a right prat during third year, but you’ve bloody hated the guy since then for laughing. Laughing. It’s not like he did it on purpose, you know. It was a mistake.”

You turned toward her in surprise. “A mistake that caused my bloody eyebrow to burn off!”

“And look,” she replied cheerily, “it’s grown back!” You groaned; why was she doing this? Make it a less hostile environment. The only way that could happen is if you and George were miles, if not worlds, apart.

“Maybe try.. having a conversation, yeah? You may have something in common,” she continued on, noisily slurping the rest of her pumpkin juice. “I’m just saying; you don’t have to love the bloke, but you don’t have to hate him, either. Make this atrocious Divination lesson less dreadful for you both by just being civil.” She slung her bag across her shoulder and tapped you on the shoulder. “Have got Charms -- just think about it, okay? See you,”

Civil. You supposed, as you took a very deep sigh and finished off the rest of your drink, that you could attempt to do that. Just then, a very loud bit of raucous laughter echoed across the Great Hall, coming from none other than the Gryffindor table, where George and Fred were no doubt showcasing one of their products for their shop they were so confident they’d be able to open and run. The commotion from the table only seemed to increase, and you took yet another very deep, gruff sigh. Civil. You could try. But Merlin, you’d have to try really very bloody hard.

-- -

When George sat down across from you a few days later, you’d been back and forth between the idea of being courteous and being rude more times than you could count on two hands. And luckily for him, you’d just flopped back to the idea of politeness.

You stuck out a hand and he looked at you quizzically. “Merlin -- have the fumes in here gone to your head or something? We’ve known one another for years.”

Civility, you thought. You stood your ground. “Can we just.. I dunno, start over? This lesson is already terrible enough without us nearly killing one another. I, for one, don’t want to dread this any more than I already do. So what do you say?”

You couldn’t tell right away if the arch of his eyebrows meant he was genuinely considering this or if he was fighting back a very haughty laugh so as not to spark an argument. But then, surprisingly, incredibly, he took his hand in yours and shook it firmly. “Alright then, Y/N,” he said professionally, “I suppose I can do that. But no bashing my methods of study,”

“No burning off my eyebrows,” you retorted.

“No worries there,” he replied, sneaking a small smirk at you as he opened his spellbook, “nothing to blow up in here.”

For the first time in nearly four years, the two of you had made it throughout an entire lesson without yelling at one another. It was both surprising and refreshing. And although you both continued to make small digs at one another, and he certainly continued to test your patience, you realized that maybe your mate was right.

It turns out you did have some things in common, actually.

“Why the bloody hell haven’t you tried out for Quidditch then?”

George was still beaming over your story of how you’d miraculously caught a Snitch at the very young age of seven in your backyard with your siblings. You’re not exactly sure when Quidditch had come up in the conversation, but somehow it did, and the two of you were now packing up to head to your next lessons.

“I dunno,” you replied truthfully, “it was never really my thing. I much rather prefer dueling than playing Quidditch.”

“Word of advice,” he said, shoving his Divination spellbook back into his bag, “never tell your housemates that you’re a Quidditch wizard. They will kill you dead you for not going out for the team.”

Just then, Professor Trelawney came scurrying over to you both -- her eyes wide and hair a tousled mess. “Mr. Weasley!” she cried excitedly, pointing down at the crystal ball, “what have you seen today?”

He looked at the professor, the ball, and then at you, a simple smile on his lips, sort of a half-smirk half-genuine sort of look. “Friendship,” he said simply.

Dumbfounded, Professor Trelawney began nodding fervently to herself and mumbling things neither of you could understand -- utter nonsense, really, and moved onto the next pair of students before they could leave. You folded your arms across your chest and raised an eyebrow. “Friendship, hm?”

George shrugged and placed his hands inside his pockets before starting toward the door. “And to think,” he said, “all you had to do was not loathe me so much.”

“It’s harder than it seems, George.”

“That’s mean,” he teased, bringing a hand to his chest in mock hurt. Then, genuinely, “we’re kind of best mates now, aren’t we?”

You choked back a laugh and held up a finger to him. “Erm, easy there -- wouldn’t go that far.”

He shook his head and began tuttering. “Dear, dear Y/N.. rubbish at both Divination and at lying.”

You threw a cushion from one of the chairs straight at his head before you both headed off in your respective directions. Best mates. Merlin. It was one lesson you’d both sort of gotten along in. He certainly was exaggerating a bit, wasn’t he? Even so, you couldn’t help the very small grin that spread itself across your face as you walked merrily toward Defense Against the Dark Arts.

--

You were having a particularly rough day.

You’d started the day off by waking up behind schedule, rushing through breakfast, and running in late to your morning lesson. You’d managed to completely bungle whatever nonsense Snape was having you concoct in Potions, losing a generous amount of points from your house. You’d slipped down the steps and given yourself a nasty bruise on your arm, and you were pretty sure that you were getting a cold -- and right before the winter holidays, at that.

So when you sluggishly made your way into Divination and George immediately began to tease you, you were not having it.

“Uh ohhhh,” he said in a sing-song sort of voice, “someone having a bad day?”

You knew he probably meant it as a joke and nothing more, but you were too pissed off to care. Was it the glassiness in your eyes? Your red nose? Your disheveled hair, or the fact that you’d hardly found the energy to straighten your tie? You growled, “I am not in the mood, George.”

“Blimey, alright, I was just --”

“I know what you were doing,” you scowled after a sneeze, “and I’d really just like to get through this lesson in one piece, if you don’t mind.” He put up his hands in surrender and sealed his lips shut. You sighed. “I’m sorry, I’m just not feeling the greatest today -- d’you mind if we just focus on the work?”

Today you were focusing your studies on palmistry. Not your favorite. It was an incredibly long, mundane lesson.

Later on, George asked you, “D’you want me to ask Trelawney if we can finish up early since you’re feeling ill?”

“Please.”

You closed your eyes for the few seconds George was gone; when he returned, he sat back down in his seat with a rather confused look etched on his face. “She, erm, told me no can do. I’ll just have to really.. ‘cleans my aura’ after this.” He used air quotes and actually had to hold back a bit of laughter. “It’s fine, I reckon. I’ll read yours. You don’t have to do mine.”

You reached out across the table as far as you could; your entire body was hurting. You didn’t want to be sneezing and achey during the Christmas holidays! You were busy pouting when George took your hand in his and began examining closely. You found yourself feeling surprised by a few things -- one, the tender touch of his fingers grazing your palm; two, how soft his skin felt against yours; three, the way your breath had hitched in your throat at the mere contact.

The feeling of his pointer finger tracing over your life and head lines on your palm sent shivers down your spine; perhaps it was an oncoming fever? You weren’t sure, and you didn’t know if the fogginess clouding your brain was the head cold or Trelawney’s classroom or the sheer intensity of the moment between you and this redhead. Somehow, though, when George looked up and locked eyes with you, you had this strange feeling that he was feeling the same things you were. Pure shock. Pure surprise.

“So, erm,” you began, clearing your throat and stretching as far away from him as you could, “what’s it say then? What’s going to happen?”

George hummed appreciatively and looked back down at your hand once more before letting go. “Some type of.. chemical reaction. In our Potions lesson. Bubbling cauldrons, and all that.”

What? Were the fumes getting to him too? He never looked so serious in all his life! Maybe he needed a trip to the hospital wing to uncloud his own head --

“Sorry? George, what’re you on about? We don’t take Potions together.”

“Oh, you’re right,” he replied, shaking his head a bit and forcing down a smile. And then, much to your surprise (and delight, perhaps?) he said something you were pretty sure you dreamt up: “--reaction must be between us, then.”

If his knee hadn’t been touching yours under the table, or you hadn’t felt the stuffiness of your head cold take you over, you would’ve been sure that it had all been a dream, or perhaps the haziness of the classroom making you hallucinate. But no. He’d said it. He’d said it quite seriously, with his signature smirk and hand through the hair right afterward.

The bell rang, startling you, and he stood up slowly and slung his bag across his shoulder. You fumbled with your books, both exhausted from your oncoming illness and dumbfounded by his comment. “Mum swears by green tea,”

“Oh, erm, sorry?”

George laughed. “Green tea. My mum says it always helps during the colder months. Pretty sure they’ve got some in the kitchens.” He started toward the door, but waited for you. You both parted ways near the Great Hall. “Rest up, alright? Don’t need my partner missing out on the very exciting, albeit outdated art of palm reading.”

You laughed a bit. “I’ll be sure to, George.”

“And remember,” he pointed at you, “lots of green tea. A Molly Weasley recommendation.”

You couldn’t help the gentle smile that tugged at your lips. “Tell her thanks for me.”

-- -

Two days later and you were feeling as good as new. George had been right -- a few cups of green tea everyday, and it seemed to have cleared your sinuses right up. His mum was a right genius.

There were only two more days of classes before everyone was going to pack up and leave for the holidays. Although you’d be back after the new year, it still felt odd going home; you missed Hogwarts so desperately whilst being home. Something about the castle, illuminated by dazzling decorations and lights and ornaments -- it was rather stunning, actually, and always left you yearning for more.

You were busy scribbling down the very last bit of your Charms essay in the library when you heard your name. Oh no! How long had you been there, working away? You groaned and quickly wrote your name on the top of the parchment and bolted from the back of the library. Then you stopped in your tracks as goosebumps rose on your skin, and you listened:

“Do me a favour, Weasley, and just admit that your brother is mad for her.”

It was your mate. What was she doing, here in the library? Wasn’t she supposed to be in Herbology? You quickly skidded your way into one of the empty aisles, listening intently to the conversation unfolding just a few feet away from you in the aisle next to yours. And then came the unmistakable sound of Fred Weasley’s very dry sarcasm:

“Who? George? My twin? Mad for your friend? No, there’s no way.”

You could almost hear the smile that split his face. Your breath caught in your throat, and you struggled terribly to stifle a cough. What were they on about? There was no way, just absolutely no way that he really did fancy you. You thought your mates had been joking a few weeks back; you’d taken them up on their suggestion to be polite, but that was merely it. Friends? Maybe. A couple? Bloody hell, absolutely not.

“Could you be bloody serious for one moment?”

“I reckon I do not have a serious bone in my body, I’m afraid.”

Ignoring this, your friend continued. “How long?”

“Hmm,” Fred began. You imagined that he was probably looking toward the sky, as if searching for his thoughts so he could pull them directly out of thin air. “Well, let’s see. Pretty sure the day Y/N screamed bloody murder at him in Potions, he’d fallen very quickly in love, even though he never admitted it to anyone. I’ve known it, though, because the poor bloke wears his heart on his sleeve. So about four years, yeah.”

“And he just couldn’t quit the merciless teasing, could he?”

“It’s like you don’t know us at all.”

You couldn’t listen anymore. You quickly shuffled your way out of the library and all the way to your common room until you were safely in your dormitory and could yell into the void. Why on bloody earth would he have been acting so rude if he actually fancied you, even if he had been trying to keep his feelings a secret? But then his comment from the other day flooded your mind, and you soon found, as you mulled them over, that a lot of his comments toward you could be taken in a flirtatious manner if you hadn’t been so obsessed with hating him so much. Perhaps, looking back, he’d been basing his repartee off of your desire to make your distaste of him very well known.

What would have happened if you’d taken that misfortune in Potions in stride? Would you two have been alright? Acquaintances? Friends? Maybe even..

You felt a small jab in your stomach.

It’s as if the conversation you’d overheard had made you do a complete one eighty. Four months ago, the idea of spending any of your time with George Weasley nearly sent you into a tizzy. You absolutely abhorred the idea. The sight of him alone made your blood boil, and any and all interaction with him would have made you miserable to the point of constant sulking. But now?

It was sort of hard to get the guy out of your head.

You found yourself constantly replaying all of your interactions with him over the years back each night before bed. Of course, there hadn’t been too many, seeing as you’d done your absolute very best to avoid him at all costs. But the ones that had happened.. perhaps there was something other than disdain in his voice. Maybe you’d just chosen to hear it as disdain, because you didn’t want to admit to yourself what was actually true.

You didn’t know what happened between that time he’d first read your palm and what you’d overheard in the library, but something had changed.

Lots had changed.

His words echoed in your ears.

Maybe there was some type of chemical reaction going on.

-- -

When you walked into Divination the next morning, you weren’t very surprised to see George already sitting there. He’d started coming to lessons earlier and earlier, to the point where he was getting there before you. It was refreshing, actually. You’d always thought he didn’t really care about work; he’d proved you wrong, though, and you were glad.

You both fell into your routine quite easily, ignoring the very theatrical talks coming from Trelawney as she made her way around the room to observe each of you through her her very large spectacles. You felt a bit of a pull at your heart that this would be your very last lesson together before the holidays -- you relished and also sort of dreaded the idea of being very far away from this foggy mess of a classroom for a few weeks time.

“You’re awfully quiet today. Feeling better?”

George’s voice took you by surprise, because you’d both been working rather diligently on the finishing touches of your essays. You cleared your throat and stunned yourself at how softly your voice sounded in your own ears. “Yes, yeah of course. That tea worked wonders actually -- your mum’s a genius.”

George laughed softly but didn’t look up from his parchment. “Yeah, she’s a wonder, she is.”

“Has to be,” you replied, tracing over the letters of your name, “with seven kids and all. Has to be on top of things.”

“I reckon you’re right.” He finished whatever he was writing and looked up at you with a smile, and when you skittishly glanced back down toward your parchment, he asked, “are you sure you’re alright?”

“Mhmm,” you replied, biting down on your lip. Your feet were thumping rhythmically against the floor. And then the words were said before you could register just exactly what you were doing: “Heard something about you.”

A small smile tugged at his lips. “Whatever it is, I swear I didn’t do it.” Then he paused, thought for a moment, and opened his mouth to speak again. “Alright..maybe I’ve done it.”

A small chuckle settled in the air between you both when he finally looked up from his parchment and locked his gaze with yours. “Sorry. What did you hear?”

You considered making something up, for now you were panicking, and you hated feeling panicked: but then again, you were in pretty deep already, and what did you have to lose? “It was from your brother, actually. Fred.”

“Oh, Merlin.”

“Yeah, said something interesting,” you continued on, focusing your eyesight solely on the parchment in front of you. You resumed tracing the letters of your name over and over, just to give yourself an excuse to not look at him as your cheeks surely flooded pink. “Said you actually haven’t loathed me this entire time?” It came out as more of a question.

“Really?”

“Actually, if my memory serves me correctly..” you dragged out every single word, still unsure if you were going to go for it. And then you did. “I’m pretty sure he actually used the word.. fancy.”

You half expected George to throw up his arms in a fit, exclaiming that Fred didn’t know what the bloody hell he was on about, and of course he’d actually disliked you this entire time. You also half expected him to burst out and cackle himself silly, because the sheer idea of a guy like him fancying a girl like you just tickled him. But instead, he licked his lips and peered at you with a type of compassion in his eyes you’d never seen before. Then he wiggled his eyebrows and offered, “He’s smarter than I thought. And to think.. I’d never even told him how I truly felt.”

Okay, surely you’d dreamt that. But nope; nope, he’d said it, yet again, causing the butterflies to dance animatedly around your stomach. You opened your mouth to speak as he smiled softly at you, but then Trelawney came bouncing over, completely interrupting the moment. “Oh, my dears! Friendship was on your horizon, you say; now, look into the beyond and tell one another what lies ahead!”

She bounced quickly over to the next group, and you took to looking inside the crystal ball; but any type of focus you’d had before had flown out the window now -- there was no way you were going to be able to properly function, because as it turns out, your very worst enemy had actually liked you this entire bloody time.

George leant in closer so that he, too, was hovering over the crystal ball, your foreheads almost touching. You could feel his breath on your neck. His voice was low and cool, “What’s the future say now, love?”

“Friendship,” you somehow spit out, your throat and mouth suddenly as dry as the Sahara desert. “Maybe more, actually.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,”

And then the sound of glass shattering against the hardwood floor across the room startled you both, causing you to pull away from one another and catch your breath.

Moment over.

-- -

The Great Hall was bustling with students chatting animatedly and loads of luggage carts and parcels of presents. You’d just finished your final lesson before the holidays (Charms -- ending on a high note!) and you were very relieved to be on a break from your studies for a few weeks time and to be heading home.

The Great Hall was filled with people, but not the familiar one you were looking for.

Perhaps the conversation you were hoping to have could wait until after the holidays; although you didn’t know if you’d make it through three weeks of wondering what and if without spontaneously combusting.

You tugged your luggage out into the corridor to board one of the carriages to the train when you spotted him standing with his siblings, surrounded by luggage carts and huddled up in his Gryffindor robes and scarf.

Before you could find the courage to walk on over to him to wish him a happy Christmas, it seemed as though he was able to read your mind, for he excused himself from his siblings and made his way over to you, causing you to back up a few inches and press yourself directly into the wall.

You both hadn’t had a chance to chat since your lesson yesterday, since you’d found out the truth, since you’d ran out due to your nerves and George’s cheeky grin.

“So, erm -- sorry I ran out yesterday. Was a bit.. flustered, is all.”

You could’ve said anything else, but these were the words that chose to escape your lips. Bloody hell. You internally scolded yourself, but the expression George’s face didn’t change.

“Flustered?” he asked, confusion crinkling the edges of his eyes. “About what?”

“George, come on.”

“No, please,” he placed his hand on his chest, “You’re going to have to remind me. Yesterday’s events are all a blur, I’m afraid.”

He smirked, and you suddenly felt your blood begin to boil again. He was going to make you say it, of course he was.

“You know,” you started through gritted teeth, “our little conversation in Divination yesterday afternoon. About your... feelings.”

He nodded dramatically and clicked his tongue. “Right. That conversation. You know, it’s funny,” he began, placing his hands inside his pockets and moving closer to you, “I really dislike crystal gazing. I find the more accurate readings come from palmistry.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah,” he replied flatly, as if it were obvious. He took out his hand and placed in front of you. “Look here. I reckon you’ll be able to read the future quite clearly.”

You took his hand in yours, and immediately felt as thought you were out of your element. Yet, you began to trace the lines gently with your forefinger. You weren’t reading any bloody future; you were merely trying not to let the very steady pounding of your heart be so evident in the rising tension between you both. You found yourself, actually, pulling ever so gently on his hand, as if to bring him closer to you. You could easily reach out and trace the outline of freckles on his nose.

“See anything intriguing?” he breathed.

Something about being around him made you feel simultaneously more nervous than you ever had been and more confident; you were feeling so self-assured that you actually said something before you could overthink it. “Yeah, actually, looks here like you’re about to kiss me,” you said breathlessly.

How odd, you thought, that just mere months ago the man in front of you was none other than your absolute mortal enemy, and now all you wanted to do was spend the holidays locked away with him in a broom cupboard.

A cheeky grin split his face and he moved another inch or so closer; just centimeters to go, and his lips would be fully pressed to yours, the chemical reaction bubbling over perfectly. “Is that so?” he asked quietly, very slowly moving his way forward. He lifted your chin with his hand so your face was angled up toward his, and he stopped just as his lips so very softly brushed yours. It didn’t even seem real, honestly. Just then, one of the Weasleys shouted to George that their older brother was here to fetch them, and he you felt his smile brighten ever so lightly against you. Damnit! And instead of finishing what he’d started, he merely ran a finger across your chin, down your neck and over your collarbone and whispered, “Happy Christmas, love,” before pulling away.

What in the bloody fuc--! Was he kidding? Not only had the reaction bubbled over, but you now felt like exploding at how much of a prat he was being. He’d already made you say such silly things, and now he really had the audacity to almost kiss you and then pull away?

“You’ve got to be joking,” you said under your breath as he squeezed your hand. “You’re going to kill me.”

He wiggled his eyebrows seductively. “Have got to leave you wanting more, don’t I?”

You scoffed loudly and took a very deep, very overdue breath to regain your composure, but not before he leaned in and caught you off guard by pressing his lips to yours and gently melting into you. A slight sigh escaped you, and before you could register just what it felt like to have his lips on yours, you both broke apart -- he winked merrily at your wide eyes and made his way back toward his siblings. “You still going to be a right prat in three weeks time?” you teased, folding your arms across your chest as he tugged a beanie over his head.

“Oh, there’s no doubt in my mind, love,” he said as if it were obvious, “you still going to let me read your palms and drive you mad?”

You grinned a bit more and shook your head, tugging your own scarf around your neck as he was pulled by his siblings out of the castle. You breathed deeply, brought your fingers to your lips where his had just been, and said to nobody in particular, “Oh, there’s no doubt in my mind, Weasley.”

[vaguely-concerned]

X-men Evolution; the great 2021 rewatch liveblog

exactly what it says on the tin, about halfway through the show I had TOO MANY FEELINGS and had to start writing some of them out haha (gets quite gambit & rogue/gambit heavy in the latter half, Because of Who I Am as a Person)

- this is my childhood’s x-men, my formative experience with them, and I’m happy to report that still seems like a good thing. the little eleven year old within me gets to geek out and have a good time with the characters and the surprisingly good animation and writing, adult me gets to CACKLE at regular intervals at the fashion/technology/absolute bonkers hot garbage comic book nonsense they use to justify a storyline every now and then, it’s been a good time 

- I was like ‘ah well it is super dated it probably won’t be quite the same now’ and then rogue’s HAIR did the THING in the opening and ‘it’s all coming back to me now’ started playing in the background... the little baby queer in me swooning across time and space

- such a good beast, both his design and the writing, my heart aches for him all the time. he’s just so passionate! about being a teacher! helping young humans learn the stuff they’ll need in life! the most wonderful nerd man, just let good things happen for him

- I’m going to go ahead and assume that rogue’s ‘crush’ on scott is more of a deeply complex psychological process about desiring normalcy and intimacy and trying to figure out if she’s queer and dealing with her emerging sexuality and latching on to the first and best safely unavailable and nonthreatening older boy to project these issues onto rather than actually being a real thing, because I respect her so much as a person and I cannot bring myself to imagine she’s honestly attracted to a man who has POSTERS OF CARS on his bedroom wall. (I’ll give jean a break just because she seems to have a longer deeper history with him that might counteract some of that libido-kill, and also she’s a jock so lol)

like I am very sorry but can u imagine being a teenage girl with any interest in a boy with model cars in his bedroom when gambit’s swanning around being a much, much, much worse choice on almost every possible level but in a teen girl kryptonite kind of way? inconceivable  

(I drag scott quite a few times in this and it’s not because I don’t love him, it’s just his tragedy to be the most draggable man in the world)

to be fair by the time gambit shows up that whole Situation has mostly played itself out I suppose but still  

- toad’s design is so ineffably brilliant, I can’t quite tell you why but that ugly cute charm has really stuck with me, he’s one of the characters I remembered the best to this day just visually

- poor evan... he truly never had a chance, did he, they just saddled him with the most 90s teen bullshit they could come up with like he’s some kind of ‘what adult writers think teens like’ frankenstein’s monster ;______; it’s not your fault honey

- poor poor POOR storm, she gets one focus episode and they were like ‘we’re going to make an episode so racist -- ‘

I’m still STUNNED at how bad it was, but undeniably I laughed hysterically to the point that my neighbours were probably worried when that dude was earnestly like ‘He [stunningly breathlessly racist caricature of a ‘witch doctor’ guy] has stolen her powers, and he’s going to use them to take over Africa!!!’ fhajsdlfhsakjldfh oh really? tell me more, like how the fUCK this could be on television within my life time fasdlfhsdkjfhsad f  just... fahjksdfh

- it’s a testament to gambit’s appeal as a character that his charm can survive what they’ve done with his hair and beard choices in this one fajskfhs regrettable but true I still fuckn LOVE him and in my highly biased yet Correct opinion he should have been around much more. get you a man who manages to stay hot through sheer Vibes even with a bowl cut

- aw scott/jean is kind of sweet in this show even if it’s taking them forEVER to get there, I like it 

- it’s very nice of rogue to not mention magneto’s romantic daydreams and nostalgic memories about charles xavier after touching his face that one time... or maybe her brain did her a service and repressed it, there’s some stuff you shouldn’t have to know about your father figure   

- the danger room is the very definition of ‘why do we even have that lever’ and I wonder what the fuck prof x does to have enough money to replace everything that gets busted all the time

- I’d say that a lot of the writing holds up surprisingly well! (but some of it is also incredibly inexcusably racist in ways that beggar belief, so... not full marks here) the characters have distinct voices and their arcs are set up and delivered on solidly for the most part, and there’s a lot of love showing through in small moments that are just there to have a funny/interesting thing to say about the characters and how their powers work separately and in combination. listen, sometimes I get so thirsty for like. basic goddamn competency in storytelling, let me have this

- ugggggh why is there captain america in my x-men have I not suffered enough... very very funny when prof x goes ‘sounds like you knew rogers personally’ and logan is like ‘I did ;)’ *all the students ganging up on steve rogers* “did you fuck our teacher, captain america?!”

- fskadfhas WHY are you showing me hot young-ified magneto’s ass fksjahfskj charles is not even here to see it, what a tragic waste erik 

- ...I was sort of kidding before but uh I think logan genuinely did fuck captain america (or at least wishes very much that he did lol)

- wanda can have a little watching the world burn. as a treat for the way every single adult in her life has fucking failed her (’aren’t they treating you well here’ professor x she’s in a straightjacket)  

- poor rogue tho can you imagine finding out after your biggest crush on a girl yet that she’s your fucking MOM in disguise... I would break out in cold sweat every time I thought about a boob forever after

- well seems like they really just had all that homoerotic rivalry stuff between quicksilver and spyke in their first ep only to never do anything with that again ever?? I mean even without the gay undertone that seems like a dynamic you spent most of an episode setting up writers what the hell haha

- dslhfkasjlh GAMBIT THERE HE IS MY BOY IS ON THE SCENE THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!! I don’t even care about his awful hair situation or the fact that his eyes are wrong here (coloured contact lenses, maybe, for a watsonian explanation? though he’d probably have to get them made special, considering he needs the sclera and the iris covered up in different ways, I’ve seen some comic panels indicating he has been known to?)

(cute little detail: when he shuffles the cards the first time we see him he ends with removing the top card to show the ace of hearts beneath <3 foreshadowing baBEY he’s a... good-ish boy deep down. hey he tries okay shit gets complicated sometimes lol) 

- cracking UP at gambit perched cheerily on the edge of a crate dispensing cards in the middle of the battle... he’s like ‘eh it’s a livin’ sfsajkhf remy stop working for supervillains just because you had nothing to do on a thursday afternoon and they said they’d pay you

- I’m guessing magneto must have imposed a strict order of silence on these guys or something because I cannot imagine any other reason for him to shut up, especially once he notices rogue is a QTE (or, far more likely, they hadn’t settled on any voice actors for the new characters until next season haha. it is kind of odd that they’re all keeping up near monastic silence, though, even sabertooth lol) 

- WHAT an epic first meeting for us rogue/gambit fans here... first his shadow like there’s fireworks going off behind him lighting him up and then he gives her the fuckn king of hearts and she’s so enchanted by his dumb handsome face she doesn’t even notice it’s about to blow up in her hands and it all happens in heavily meaningful silence afjsdfjashjk no wonder this ship ingrained itself in my hindbrain  

yeah look smug while you can remy she’s gonna have you on your knees one day and you’ll be happy about it lol

- god storm is so COOL, everything just fading out of focus when she really gets going... give her more screen time, show!!

- mystique is every person... this person... that person... that bird... that cat... that wolf... I’m not even sure she’s not also me... are you sure she’s not you? 

- holy fuck I respect the hell out of the decision to just... blow up the entire status quo in a season ender, I only vaguely remembered that (actually in general I appreciate how good the continuity is -- buildings and places that get damaged in battles need to be repaired or rebuilt, it makes the consequences feel more real even when no one gets seriously hurt. where they get the money to restore scott’s car and logan’s motorbikes every time they go cablooie is still an open question tho lol is it credit card fraud, professor? is it telepathically acquired blackmail???) 

- I first watched this when I was nine or so, so it’s a real experience to go from my starry eyed intrigued ‘oh my god... they’re teenagers’ to my horrified adult perspective of ‘oh my god... they’re TEENAGERS D:’

that goes double for the brotherhood boys honestly, I’m here with tears in my eyes like ‘I’m sorry the system has failed you so badly you’re all just a bunch of dumb kids whose caretakers clearly fucked up spectacularly’  

like lance is always waiting for mystique to come back because she’s the closest thing he has to a safe parental figure, may we speak about how crushingly depressing that is 

- rogue is so ready to throw hands at literally any moment and for that I love and treasure her immensely (I think getting to see her be so surly and unreasonable and sometimes difficult and jealous, like any teenager, meant a lot to me as a kid who was not really allowed to be any of these things, this version of the character has stayed with me so deeply. she holds on so fiercely to her right to feel what she feels and be what she is even when it’s ‘ugly’ or unreasonable, which I think plays in really interestingly with how her powers involve getting invaded by other people’s thoughts and memories to the point of overwhelming her own sense of self and the fact that she clearly has a lot of self-loathing and self-consciousness and confusion about her identity as well. I love her so much)  

- oooof this is the ‘the gang experience a microaggression’ episode huh (well more like macroagressions really)

hits a bit different with adult eyes and perspective huh

- hearing jean sound almost like a child when she says ‘that’s so unfair!’ somehow has me like ;______; -- she has to be so adult and responsible all the time, and having her be reduced to the kid she still is and should get to be in front of this awful awful man she could squash like a bug with the flick of a thought... ugh I’m Big Sad (it is funny that jean seemingly plays Every Sport tho djfhaskj)

- MY BOY IS BACK!!! this time with the duster coat and his eyes the right colour, im so happy (too bad about the subdued colour scheme tho; I adore his dumb bright pink getup with my whole heart)

it’s kind of adorable that he takes the time to take the bullies aside and go ‘I know these guys can’t wreck you without getting expelled, but I think you’ll find no law set down by god or man would stop me from doing so whenever I wanted to. so piss off and leave them alone’ lol he’s looking out for them, in his own way

- in this episode: remy lebeau wrangles some kids while looking bored yet mildly amused the whole time. what the fuck does magneto have on you for you to agree to this level of babysitting duty buddy

- fun detail I noticed b/c when I get a fave I hyperfixate: he gave rogue the king of hearts before, but he ‘introduces’ himself to the brotherhood here (lol) with the jack of hearts, probably to symbolize he’s here as someone who works for magneto in this setting and not as his own man? it’s a demotion he’s given himself there, anyway, might be he’s not very pleased about his current position huh 

- I like it when rogue and kitty team up, they’re not very effective together but their squabbling is so cute and non-aggressive 

- pietro is what draco malfoy would be if I ever found malfoy interesting to watch for even one moment, every time quicksilver talks I’m like ‘what wonderfully insufferable thing is going to come out of your mouth this time you little shit :’)’

- a) why are scott and logan shirtless for this scene? I am not complaining on the logan side of things at least but why and b) I laughed so hard I almost fell off my couch when scott asked logan if he’d ever been in love and he was like ‘once. she was the most beautiful bike I ever saw’ falsdfhaskjfhsakjlfhasklhjfd THE BEST VERSION OF WOLVERINE EVER, ACCEPT NO SUBSTITUTES 

- mystique’s sheer dedication to being a petty bitch is kind of inspirational tbh, almost makes me want to go on a completely bonkers and extra crusade of personal revenge myself  

- oooh they’re doing some genuinely cool things with vision/lack of vision in this one (it’s the scott left on his own in the desert without glasses one btw) even visually, dang! I’m so sad this show didn’t get more seasons than it did, honestly, it deserved it

- hell yeah jean wreck her, go get your man with the suspiciously specific clothing damage normally done to female characters 

awww :’) okay yeah they’re super sweet, I love the tiny loving animation details like how he leans his head against her and her stroking his hair away from his eyes

- nooo don’t bully evan leave my t0tally r4dical sk8er boy alone :(

- I love the running joke of people fleeing in blind panic only to reveal that what they’re running from is kitty’s cheerful well meaning little face fskfaskh 

- scott and jean are already peak married after officially being together for one episode and it’s adorable, and they just stone cold threw logan under the bus, rip wolverine we hardly knew ya

fjasdlfasldfhslajdkfhsadkjlfhsdkjalfhsdakfh h jean establishing herself as the alphabitch of this relationship by throwing her man to the wolves right after dsjfhaskjfhaskjhfsakjdhfaskjhfaskdhfskjahfskdajhf get smarter or get volunteered scott 

- ...eyepatch lady is so hot ngl

oh evan went to the place hank used to go to calm down ;________; (honestly he’s kind of won a place in my heart just by being a pretty normal teenage boy haha)

- jesus fucking CHRIST can you imagine being storm having to look her sister in the eye as she tells her ‘I lost your only child, he’s *vague gesture* somewhere in the sewers we think’ this poor woman

- amanda the self admitted monster fucker you are so VALID (I love her and her family’s design so much tho!)

- it’s so cool that even in his human ‘disguise’ kurt’s fingers follow the shape of his actual hand beneath it rather than moving like a five fingered hand, it’s such a lovingly consistent little detail 

- magneto and mystique in a breathless race to see who can be the shittiest parent... tune in next week for yet another parental nadir (also some low-poly gambit appearances in this one, for those at home keeping score (me), he’s in the background looking like someone drew him with their eyes closed fakjldfhasd look how they massacred my boy)

- someone please teach the brotherhood boys about consent huh

- jean ‘soccer mom before her time’ grey and her SUV dfhakjlhds :’)

- im sobbing rogue baby girl i’m so sorryyyyyy, this voice actress is so good, my parental instincts suddenly kicked into overdrive hearing the crack in her voice :( (bb me was right tho rogue centric episodes ARE the best episodes. that tension between ‘do I identify witn this character or am I crushing on her?? both???’ now has the fun new addition of ‘oh god oh no you are a baby I want to shield you with my body from everything trying to hurt you’)

- mystique is like ‘so you see despite you telling me you never wanted to see me again I completely disrespected that and posed as a friend your age, manipulated you by offering you the mirage of direly needed emotional intimacy and belonging and added some sprinkles of homoerotic tension to it just to massively worsen your already existing grievous psychosexual trauma and identity issues... out of love’

god go jump in a black hole you fucking monster 

- there’s some very interesting and quite subtle subtext about the people she’s morphing into and what that says about her mental state/how it shows off some of her emotional baggage with the rest of the team. it’s like she’s switching between people/powers that fit the purpose as if she’s going through cycles of fight/flight (and then bursts of freeze where she’s herself, which is... so sad)

- this whole episode is hurting my heart but rogue at full power is undeniably epic  

 - ‘professor x get your goddamn act together and get this poor girl some fucking tHERAPY’ challenge

- SAFE PAPA LOGAN ;_____;

- EYYYYYY opening straight on My Lad, I cannot stop winning!!!!! 

fasdfhsad disintegrating the window with a smiley face... remy I do love you more than my heart can bear honestly, hello may we speak about the fact that his urge to be a little shit is so deep and strong it survives mind control (that little breathed out ‘hiah!’ as he vaults the fence too dsakfjsd)

hahaha and he does up the coat fhsalfdsaj 

- magneto dismissing other telepaths like ‘puh-lease, your Meaningful Looks have got nothing on my ex-husband’s’ 

- :’) rogue and kurt sibling timeees

- say what you want but this pyro guy’s got job satisfaction in being a creepy arsonist with a weird recurring horse theme (well at least twice but still weird)

- I love how beast is the kindest man to ever walk the earth but also straight up savage, this man drags people so hard their ancestors wince in their graves

- gambit taking the time to complete the guard’s game of solitaire -- this episode is giving me everything I want. u little disgrace mr lebeau

and THEN he takes the spider out in the most hilariously bonkers way my heart is so FULL

(I love that when magneto moves by he looks startled and has to quickly move his head out of the way to avoid getting kicked in the temple too that’s a fun detail)

I’m so INTO how this sequence shows off that his greatest strength isn’t even his powers (which are pretty straightforward, really, he makes go boom, longer time and bigger thing bigger boom) but that he’s clever and creative and always extremely ready to be the most harebrained-bananapants-extra-in-a-deceptively-laidback-sort-of-way person in the room (I actually have some genuinely Deep Thoughts about how his whole character does a really interesting thing with having the straightforwardly destructive nature of his powers yield to what his nature as a person is, and how using the playing cards play (heh) into it, maybe I’ll write it out some day. just the fact that he could use anything, but he deliberately chose something that adds style and playfulness and corny charm to it and that also limits the damage of the explosions compared to if he habitually used something with more mass... I find it fascinating how much he’s made a story around himself with it and how deeply it shows he does have a good heart, at the end of the day, in almost a metatextual way. he doesn’t want to destroy things or people, he’s at worst (and best lol) a thief.)

- I honestly have literally no memory of white nick fury (which seems so weird now isn’t it funny) in this series from when I was a kid, he clearly did not make an impression on me lol

- mr wolverine ‘assigned canadian at birth’ x-men 

- oh man I dig the androgynity of x-23′s outfit (even tho they had to compensate with the long hair, which... kind of doesn’t make sense in-universe but does on a design level because it’s a crucial thing that she’s a female clone of logan so yeah okay fine whatever have your arbitrary gender markers if you must haha)

ooooooh that’s actually really clever, they make her gender gradually more obvious as she unravels through the episode and her outfit changes -- first the mask coming off, and then her jacket opening to show her silhouette more clearly, that’s cool!  

- my god what really sets this show apart is how much it invests in little character and relationship moments, it’s just so fucking GOOD! it gives laura looking in on those moments such depth and weight because it’s new to her but established to us as an audience, this is how you make found family devastating people (storm growing bonsai trees is so charming too haha) 

- ooof this is honestly quite harrowing 

SHE’S SO SMALL COMPARED TO HIM I’M CRYING (at least that part of his genes translated over faslkfsjdh short king, I say this with all the love and support of a fellow short monarch)  

- tabitha seems to just be running around doing precisely whatever the fuck she wants and you know what I support her even if she is an asshole her father left her a bunch of trauma and no fucks left to give 

- still thrilled about professor x explaining the spider key fuckup to magneto after the fact like ‘magnus you dumb bitch this is why we split up’ 

- awww kitty has anime and movie posters on her wall and sleeps with a stuffed toy :’)

-          remy                           rogue

                              🤝

doing completely unnecessary parkour around the brotherhood living room seemingly just for the hell of it... I’m not saying soulmates but fucking soulmates 

- fhsadkjlfhsakjldfhsadjkfhsdajkfh just as gambit’s soul-level need to be a little shit survived his bout of mind control, rogue’s deep and urgent desire to kiss gambit full on the mouth survived hers I can’t breathe

she looks so pleased with herself too GOOD FOR YOU GIRL at least get something out of this other than more trauma 

also not only the fact that he’s smart enough to figure out what’s going on (though he’s only partially right about who’s behind it. I do so enjoy gambit/mystique deep and sincere antipathy as a constant across all universes tho lmao pure wlw/mlm hostility) but also that he keeps fending her off like he’s not trying to hurt her even though she’s in nigh on unstoppable and invulnerable terminator mode... awww 

- gambit having absolutely no patience for wolverine and sabertooth’s bullshit macho-off and consistently being this little biker trio’s one brain cell is adding years to my life with every passing moment

his voice is a little different in these scenes too, a bit softer and less like he’s trying to impress someone, it’s nice

- hank: well I barely recognize any of these (completely made up) ‘ancient egyptian hieroglyphs’ but from what I can make out -- *proceeds to infodump a perfect coherent narrative* fjdhfak  

listen this whole thing is such nonsense on so many levels, I’m just turning my brain off so I won’t have to think about it okay, the compulsion to put ancient aliens in egypt haunts us as a culture 

- I am CACKLING about gambit in the snow after having to listen to these two chucklefucks ooze testosterone at each other for hours

he started out taking it in good cheer and is now reduced to ‘dieu would both of you just jump off this fUCKING mountain please’

- ah. a little oops-a-daisy there, we seem to have unleashed the apocalypse. please stand by (they really don’t pull their punches with the season cliffhangers in this show haha)

- opening the season on gambit’s merrily grinning face is the easiest way to gain my favour. yes good this season may commence 

baby u r my

 ANGELLLLLLLL

(he’s so cute here tho haha I think it shows the design isn’t unsalvagable, just get him better hair and stubble more like logan has and you’ve basically got it) 

love his exasperated eyeroll when the dude gets spooked (by his eyes? or just the general weirdness?) too

he’s just trying to keep this crazy family of evil mutants together and unmurdered by one another until they’ve managed to avert the end of the world, bless him  

- oh NO rogue’s LIP wobbles my hhhhhheart ;____; such a good animation detail to put in

- like... I know kurt is just a sad scared teenager with a lot of shit going on and all the adults are too busy averting the end of the world to help him... but buddy maybe don’t ask your sister to wake her abuser (who forced her to kickstart the end of the world!!!!!) when she feels utterly unsafe even with her statue version around huh

- ...wanda is good and I want only good things for her. and for her dad to be disemboweled for what he did to her both the first time around and when he forced her to forget I mean what 

- magneto throwing an epic satelite-slinging tantrum b/c ‘no I am the biggest sexiest strongest mutant of the pack :(’... erik fucking get over yourself 

- yes boys absolutely go along with a plan suggested by a dude who looks at you like this 

nothing bad can come of this surely asdfkhsa

- lance’s quarter of a braincell always trying to go ‘hey wait, maybe... not do this???’ and it never helps lol

- in this episode: Logan Has A Bad Day 

...some very specific bondage positions he’s held in here, I am sure this episode awakened something in someone once upon a time lol 

- logan shielding x-23 with his body... im fine it’s okay I’m not crying don’t look at me

- afsdhlsdfjasdlk those sure are some ‘scottish’ accents flsadkjhkdsjahfsd

- scott relieved to finally be able to cede the position of ‘charles xavier’s least favourite son’ to someone else fjsaklfhsajd (poor scott it’s not your fault honey)

supremely cowardly to suggest there is an ex-wife involved rather than charles slutting his way around the british isles back in the day but okay

- kurt with a cold is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. it’s okay kid it’ll get better soon

- ...is there an implication here that professor x is naturally blond. because I am losing my entire little mind about it (i mean he at least has to carry the gene, as does this lady?)

ETA: upon doing some research into this I can indeed confirm that charles xavier does seem to be naturally blond, and after this knowledge I will never be the same 

- “listen, dracula” fskdafghasd oh scott you sweet baby angel I love you

- I know jean’s abilities are a bit ‘as strong or as weak as the plot needs right now’ at this point (so you can have the setup for what’s going to happen with them eventually and she’s basically invincible ;____;), and normally I’m cool with it but god I want her to just squash lucas like a little bug

- ewwwww please don’t ever say ‘daddy’ like that again

- ...what the fuck is even going on this episode’s a mess 

like okay the split personality thing could be something but the way it’s done... what just happened lol

- MY BOY EVAN IS BACK! with a real glowup too (...though kind of weird how he suddenly looks like a grown man)

- augh scott’s eyes are so pretty oh my god ;__________________________;

- that episode in the first season where evan makes the ‘this is my new family!!’ video is so sad now (also, again, his poor poor parents) 

- time for: life affirming road trip with gambit (involuntary) faskljdfhaskjd

stunt therapist remy lebeau 

- I mean the way he goes about it is batshit insane and it’s very much secondary to what he’s actually up to but this is the first time rogue’s sounded genuinely hopeful and confident and like herself in like a season <3 

- he is disconcertingly pleased about her nearly throwing him off the train, and may I just say I agree it’s so nice to see rogue with her old fire back 

- the first time I watched this it was of course dubbed into norwegian, so I had no idea either of these characters were southern lol (though to be fair I probably wouldn’t have had much context for what it meant exactly either, I was like ten at the time and not too interested in america) I seem to dimly remember the norwegian voice actor did a little more of a ‘french’-tinged accent for gambit all over tho haha  

- you know what respect where it’s due, pyro dude knows to live his life for the lols and one has to admire his sociopathic dedication to it

interesting that he, too, seems to have fucking hated magneto -- I wonder if the implication here is that he kept all the acolytes in line with blackmail or by keeping something/one hostage? (except sabertooth maybe he’d just have to say ‘you get to fuck shit up and fight wolverine’ and that’d be enough)

- fsdakfhsd he’s so focused on her he doesn’t notice that guy about to hit him fkafhsa 

- fuck everything else except whatever the hell these two’ve got going on

- it’s weirdly cathartic to have rogue have a conversation with someone who was not happily adopted as well, I don’t think kurt like. gets it because his parents loved him unconditionally and still do 

birds of a feather motherfucker  

- fun detail: when the x-men team are on the shore and logan is sniffing around scott is stepping in something and trying to wipe it off his boots in the background

- when he wakes up after passing out from the touch he’s smiling even though she’s standing over him looking like the rage of god outlined by the moon fsajfsa well the last time he passed out like that it was from a kiss, maybe he still has some hopes and dreams in that direction lol (also he recovers from the tumble down the hill first and is checking on her before accidentally brushing her cheek with his hand, which I thought was sweet) 

and it was in that moment he knew he fucked up *passes out*

- ‘I can explain’ can u remy. can u  

- did it ever even occur to you to just. ask her. to help you. I mean I know it didn’t but like rogue’s always one second away from throwing hands with some bully and is stupidly ride or die, if you’d given her the puppydog eyes she would have crumbled immediately (fair enough I guess this entire episode is telling us he’s not from a background where he has much experience with people just helping him without a price haha) 

- his eyes glowing when he’s angry or upset or using a lot of his power is undeniably cool as all hell. I’m just saying it would be Big Sexy if they sort of flickered with light in moments of genuine vulnerability okay  

- his coat... his coat is what makes the Silhouette tm and I could not be happier about it 

- another parent of the year contestant enters the running lol “hey remy have you ever considered that you’re more of a walking bomb factory than a person? that’s certainly how I think of you hahaha c’mon kid let’s go” 

- the running joke of jean luc getting dollar signs in his eyes seeing the other mutant powers and gambit being like ‘nO!!!!’ and pulling him along is amazing haha

- from the way he looks when he touches rogue accidentally and the way he talks to his dad I’m sort of getting the feeling this gambit might actually be a bit younger than he looks?

here too -- idk why but it’s making the ‘wait is he baby???’ alarms go off in my head haha. very early twenties at most. 

- and we’ve officially seen him with all the face cards in the heart suit folks! (yes this is the sort of thing my brain notices no I don’t know either)

- poor logan running his ass off this whole episode in a panic and then she’s like ‘nah he’s fine (in several meanings of the word ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ) please put him down’ hfaskfsda

- rogue without makeup!!! her eyes look so naked like this haha <3

- oooh here’s a really interesting thing that tickles my brain a bit in this specific part of the scene where gambit frees his dad -- the part where he’s leaning against the door frame waiting for jean luc, who’s about to suggest using the opportunity to ruin the rival gang from the inside rather than slipping away while they still can

from his expression here he knows what’s about to happen, what jean luc is about to say, and it’s clearly a ‘man who thought he’d lost all hope loses last additional bit of hope he didn’t even know he still had’ sort of situation. he KNOWS what jean luc is like, and it still hurts that he really, honestly can’t give him even this, can’t appreciate that remy’s already done all this shit for him when he extremely didn’t have to, without immediately (no really, it took him less than ten seconds to go there? jesus) demanding more.  

remy tells him “I’m just here for you” and jean luc does not understand it. remy seems to be sincere in this motivation -- rogue certainly thinks so, having experienced it second hand and found enough at least emotional merit in it to decide he was worth saving even after all his bullshit (lol a bit of a running theme maybe. I think it’s very telling that after she absorbed mystique she was like ‘what the FUCK you’re a fucking monster’, and after she absorbed gambit she went ‘you did the wrong thing for the right reasons’ after she got over the first wave of outrage) 

there’s also what he says as he stands there: “You don’t need me for that”, with the distinct implication that jean luc would only keep him around because he has a use for him and for no other reason -- and then jean luc shamelessly doubles down on that by specifying that it’s not even him he’s got a use for as such, just his powers. that’s some kicking puppies level of deliberately missing the point, it’s almost impressive in how cheerfully mean it is haha

this idea of using people is really important in this episode because remy’s doing basically exactly the same thing to rogue to begin with; it doesn’t really matter to his plan that it’s her that’s with him through this, just what her powers are. (I think it’s  p r e t t y  solidly implied that he does actually like her a lot outside of that too and maybe there is some comfort in having her around for this, but mostly he’s behind a smokescreen of lies through the whole thing sooo I doubt he’s even aware of it, honestly)     

but then it does matter that it’s her when she comes back for him, even after what he did. and unlike jean luc he understands what that means, that she did that for him, and that she didn’t have to. and instead of asking her for more, in return he gives her the thing it’s been established is what he considers the most valuable thing he has; his ‘last card’, the thing he’s credited with keeping him alive many a time, basically. it’s gone from using to mutuality, a tentative place of friendship, and at the end of the day he is a different man than his adoptive father, with a capacity for selflessness and love he lacks. which is of course some of the same stuff going on with rogue and mystique too, except rogue acted from a more fragile and unstable place and did something she regrets, or at least has a LOT of doubts about now, and she found some catharsis in helping someone make a different choice in a similar situation. man there’s some Stuff going on under the surface here haha

(by the way it’s a weirdly... meaningless yet intensely meaningful thing, the gifting of a symbol? of an idea? but he’s putting something very crucial of himself into her hands, is the subtext, and he expects her to understand, which she also does seem to do. at the beginning of the episode he’s proving that he’s seen something true about her -- “You’re such an unhappy girl”, knowing where she comes from, the way she’s mourning her lost confidence and autonomy with her abilities -- and here she’s proving she’s seen something true about him. :’) I wish this show had gone on long enough for this dynamic to progress, it’s really interesting and touching)   

- gambit dragging himself up onto dry land seeing someone approaching (to help?!): :D

gambit seeing that it’s logan and the look on his face: D: 

- rogue using her powers so confidently and fearlessly in this episode tho!!!! 

- *me crying* and then her FAMBILY comes to take her home and he says he’s looking out for her too and kurt still loves her even though they’re having a conflict thing between them and she’s finally able to use her powers without so much fear again and --

- ...did I just watch some baby lesbian love at first sight shit right now???  

- okay last two episodes let’s go

- HELL YEAH STORM (I love that she’s like ‘don’t give me a dumb order like that and I won���t have to disobey it’ too sdfjsaj) her voice has such command I’m usually very much not the ‘step on me’ type butttt

- y’know I feel like apocalypse’s main fault across all versions I’ve seen of him is that he’s like an immortal superpowered god king and he’s not even sexy. like at least make him hot if he’s going to be insufferable in every other way 

- also callout post for apocalypse: one time he made gambit into the Horseman of Death... and didn’t even make him sexy!!! you were handed remy lebeau, supreme bi disaster slut of the x men universe, and you couldn’t even make his brainwashed superpowered evil side hot?? a beautiful stubbled twunk with glowing red eyes and extremely charming :> face practically delivers himself into your hands and you do that to him???? I mean I’m sure apocalypse did some other bad stuff too but that was the worst one

(comics are so dumb y’all) 

- having to watch jean cry is emotional terrorism!! ;___; she has such older sister/mom energy, whenever she gets sad and helpless it hurts 

- oh, OH so PROFESSOR X you’ll make into a hunk and ~*strategically*~ rip his clothes to show off a nipple and a flawless pec in a way that makes me extremely uncomfortable because he’s like The Dad??? apocalypse you are rotten to the core this is unforgivable 

- so wait wanda never actually gets her real memories back. what the FuCk I hope that was a dropped storyline because they ended the show tragically prematurely rather than like. the plan

- why is spyke calling storm ‘storm’ show that’s his auntie o!! >:(

- as a society we need to acknowledge that apocalypse looks like a fucking clown

- ooooh yeah I have been thinking that this show’s greatest visual weakness so far has been not having a visual way to show telepathy/battles of the minds, but this is a pretty cool way to do it! better late than never

- I’m so happy rogue gets to end this herself, since she was forced into starting it against her will, it’s just nice and neat storytelling

- YEAH FUCKING TELL HER KURT AND ROGUE I AM SO PROUD OF YOU and she has the temerity to look pissed off oh my god

the only valid thing mystique has done in her entire life is be in love with destiny. literally everything else she gets up to is a travesty. like I know objectively she’s hot but my loathing for her stops me from even appreciating it. I do enjoy loathing her tho so please don’t change her haha

(a bit odd to have kurt’s attitude to her swing so much but I’m just going to assume he and rogue had a good long conversation after ‘cajun spice’ and that he understands what’s going on better now)

- this last part is such a cruel tease faskdfhsdaj ‘here are all the cool-ass things we had planned. sucks you never get to see it huh’ im devastated 

- magneto without his helmet and playing charmingly with children like charles is going ‘well at least I saved my marriage finally’ fsadkhfjsd (honestly tho I would be super interested in seeing how they’d redeem this magneto because he’s been a real bitch the whole time lol) 

there’s an interesting thing here where magneto looks down at wanda as the last thing he does on screen before this epilogue part (yeah I hope it fucking haunts you forever what you did to her erik you absolute piece of hot garbage) and the last thing charles does is look at jean b/c he knows what’s going to happen to her and it breaks his heart... Dramatic Parallells  

- just the hint of jean as the phoenix has me in full D:D:D: mode tho maybe I wouldn’t have survived it

- gambit in the last groupshot with his arm around rogue ;^) I mean I’m sure they’re headed for some turns and roundabouts along the way but what’s that thing she says as her wedding vow, that she’ll always find her way back? anyway that got me in my heart

- man I really wish this show had been given more seasons, we were barely even getting warmed up here :’(

[mycrofts-gunbrella]

Severus Snape x Reader- Parchment and Cologne (Part One)

"Is it wrong? Like seriously am I completely bonkers?" You laughed to your best friend.

"Having a crush on our head of house/ potions master/ evil bat dungeon swooshy cape man? I mean it's not particularly great, Y/N, is it?" She laughed back. "Besides, why Ol' Snapey Boy when you could have Professor Lockhart? Now that, my friend, is man you could do you wonders.. if you catch my drift.." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and you couldn't help but smack her with your pillow.

"Honestly, (F/N), I often ask myself how I possibly bring myself to be able to tolerate you.. I open my heart for 5 minutes and get attacked." You smirked.

"It's because you love me really.. plus, I should be asking myself the same question. My 18 year old best friend is going all heart eyes over human Scar." You looked at her quizzically before she answered your oncoming question. ".. muggle movie reference. I'm honestly going to force you to watch Disney movies one day." She swore. You rolled your eyes at her for changing the subject and slumped back in your bed.

"Honestly what am I going to do? It's beyond 13 year old me's little crush now.. ever since he started properly teaching us last year and with all the revision sessions he offered me I actually really like him.." You sighed and borderline smacked your head against the headboard.

"Why him anyway? You seem to have chosen the only man who is in love with a cloak. Seriously, he takes that thing everywhere. I'm 99% sure it's stitched into the man's neck at this point." She giggled the last part to herself but you heard it all the same.

"If you actually bothered turning up to our revision session and didn't make me be the only person that shows you'd see that he's actually really caring.. he's even cracked a few jokes every now and then" you smiled to yourself. ".. plus he's hot." You both began to burst out laughing again before you decided it was time to turn in.

"Try not to dream of your lover boy, Y/N... you have a study session with him first thing tomorrow. Don't want to be all flustered." She winked before blowing the lamp out. Honestly she wound you up as much as she could but, she was right, you do love her really.

The hours of sleep seemed to pass by within minutes as you soon found yourself wandering the great corridors of Hogwarts to the potions classroom, knocking three times on the door before entering as you always do. With simple 'good mornings' shared and a book left in your normal seat you got straight to studying. Popping in the same strawberry gum you never seemed to run out of, you chewed quietly as you got to work. Typically, Snape would stay beside you and help you answer any questions you may have whilst also asking many more of his own. In the few months of studying with Snape it was evident that the two of you created some kind of bond, whether it be him simply asking you how your day has been or letting you in to some memories of his, Snape was definitely becoming more open and comfortable around you. And you loved it.

Today however was different.

"I do apologise but I'm going to have to work on a half prepared potion that's been left at the back of my classroom. Although I say 'half prepared' in the sense that half of it is now on the floor. How Mr Finnigan has even survived this long in the wizarding world is truly beyond me." He spoke, walking to the discarded cauldron and working on the mixture of ingredients.

"And you're making it for him? Now do correct me if I'm wrong Professor but that's a seemingly nice action. Are you feeling alright?" You joked, glancing behind you and warming inside when you saw the small smile appear on his face.

"Don't lose your head, Miss L/N. I simply do not wish for this entire thing to go to waste... besides, I need Mr Finnigan to have a perfect example for him to refer to when he comes back this afternoon to write a 4 paged essay on it." The smile raised to the side of his mouth and, should it have been anyone else, you'd have dared say a slight wink followed. You felt your cheeks turn pink and turned back to your book.

"What's with the formalities all of a sudden? 'Miss L/N'? You're making me feel like a child again, Professor." You attempted to distract yourself from looking at the man behind you.

"Well then I must insist you call me Severus in such meetings as this. Of course you must understand you're only permitted to say this when we're alone, Y/N." God you loved it when he said your name but he's really allowing you to go by his own first name? Your cheeks burned more and you felt your cool hands rush to your face to calm them.

"Seems fair, Severus." You felt his name roll off your tongue and it felt right. You turned behind you and saw a shade of red begin to dust the older man's cheeks as he gave you a curt nod. Silence pursued. Minutes passed and you felt yourself begin to shiver. Of course the one day you decide to leave your robe in your room is the one day it's minus seven thousand in the dungeons. You attempted to ignore the goosebumps appearing on your arms as you read through another passage of Snape's hand written notes for you. Your concentration lacked as you began to rub your hands over your arms and you became uncomfortable. "Hey Profe-uh Severus? I'm just going to go-" you didn't get to finish your sentence before a sudden warmth enveloped you. Confusion took over before you suddenly felt like your face was on fire. Severus Snape. Had. Given. You. His. Cloak.

"You were foolish to believe it wouldn't be cold down here, Y/N. I took you as one of my smartest students and yet you clearly lack common sense." He mused, a playful undertone in his voice that let you know he wasn't being serious. You stammered out a small 'thank you' before continuing back to your work. Why had he given you his cloak? The Slytherin common room was only around the corner; you could be back in less than 5 minutes. You decided to stop questioning it and pressed on. Time seemed to drag in the newly found silence until you began to have a very very strong smell of tea. The same tea Sev usually has on his desk before every lesson, but you hadn't seen it today. Next followed the distinct smell of old parchment and? Snape's cologne? You turned your head to find nothing but Severus stirring the last ingredient into his cauldron. Weird.

"Uh, Severus? Can you smell that? It's like the library in here." You laughed a little. "And, not to sound weird or anything because I obviously don't just walk around and smell you.. uh.. because obviously that's not normal.." you began to mutter incoherently before realising you were actually mid-sentence. "... but have you like sprayed your cologne? Or whatever you use? Because it's really strong... not that it's not a nice smell because it is a nice smell but-" you were cut off by raised eyebrows staring in your direction. Before you could even mention the fact it smelt like you were sitting inside a teapot Severus cut you off.

"What did you say?" He asked, looking at you as if you were a mad man.

"That I smell old paper? And your cologne? What's so crazy about that?" You questioned.

"Nothing. Nothing would be crazy about that. Except I've run out of my cologne and all the books are in the cupboard... and I'm brewing amortentia.." It was almost as though the world had stopped spinning. He was brewing amortentia? You knew exactly what that meant.. you'd been caught out. You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out. Your face burnt and your mouth became dry as you tried to form even a single sentence. Snape cut you off once more by taking a deep inhale of the cauldron in front of him. ".. I smell.. raspberry shampoo.. peppermint tea and... that strawberry bubblegum those Weasley Twins sell in that little shop of theirs.." You froze again. "So.. you." You felt like you were about to collapse. "I smell.. you." Good lord Y/N, Severus bloody Snape has just told you he smells you in the amortentia.. MOVE.

[pseudofaux]

Pseu! I miss you, hope all is going well! Definitely a good night for a good drink!

How about some tipsy fun with Shigezane? 🥺🥺 maybe a 4 or 5? wreck me! Wait does he drink? Gosh I need to replay him.

Cheers!!❤❤❤

HEY, honey! Hello, I hope you are doing okay! What a bonkers year. 😫 I hope you are looking forward to your birthday! 💕💕💕

Shige DEFINITELY drinks, he gets straight up... “overtoasted” in a story or two. (my hero) SO LET’S WRECK YOU A LITTLE (with love)!

The watermelon frou frou drink you included looks sooooo yummy, I’m making this modern AU and putting it in. And thinking VERY HARD about the watermelon in my fridge.

CWs for: unprotected sex, Shigezane being criminally cute and having a perfect, totally bomb [REDACTED, TEXT IS PLACED BEFORE THE CUT]

totally bomb DICK, it’s his DICK, we all know it’s big

His name is Shigezane and he tastes like a sugar rim, the flirtiest sweetness she’s ever known. He smells sweet, too-- she thinks it’s Armani but can’t tell which one. It might be the sugar-rimmed drinks talking (she has the best buzz going, fun and still in control), but from his jokes and his touching her as they dance, it feels like he’d be an enthusiastic, gentle, appreciative lover.

She feels like she wants to find out if that’s true. Two more songs, she tells herself. If I still like him after two more songs, I’ll take him to my room. And aside from the thrill of that prospect, she’s hoping she still likes him after two more songs, because she likes him a lot right now. He’s made her laugh so much and his touches have all been warm and good, but not too much.

Just right. He’s Goldilocks.

(Okay, that’s got to be the sugar-rimmed drinks talking-- his hair is actually a pretty, soft brown that’s more silver than gold somehow. But he’s still just right. She wants to get her fingers in that hair. If he kisses so well he can distract her from the sugar rim of their watermelon shots when they’re pretty much in public, she has high hopes for what else he can do with his mouth when they’re alone.)

This reception has been fun. Ridiculous but happy, the height of happy beach summer to match the afternoon’s wedding. Bright flowers everywhere, a little umbrella in every drink. She’s tasted pineapple, watermelon, and coconut. It’s long past sunset now, but the dancefloor on the restaurant’s deck is close enough that they can hear the night waves, even the ones they can’t see.

There are even torches on the beach, and dark wood chairs in the sand. The bride and groom took pictures cuddling on one earlier, and she’d looked on with the rest of the bridal party and beamed for them. Was there anything as nice as a happy wedding? No demanding parents. Just happiness and love. 

Well. Maybe spending a happy wedding reception with a nice guy who was making those gray slacks work so well.

“You up for another dance?” he asks, and holds out his hand to her like something from a movie. She already knows how nice it feels to put her hand in his, and she needs to see what he does for the next two songs. So she puts her hand in his and says “Are you?” and totally smiles at him just because he smiles at her so big and bright.

He doesn’t do annnnnything to put her off for three songs. But before she can pull him aside to ask about going somewhere, he says “Hey-- you wanna walk on the beach?” and his glance is so sweet she’s not even mad at him for being so sweet and smooth before she could. His look isn’t shy or cocky. She looks at him for a moment just to soak in how damn cute he is, that soft brown hair all wind-mussed. And then she takes his hand again. 

They walk beyond the light of the torches, far enough down the beach that they’re in front of another restaurant’s slice of sand. The buildings on the land side are closed and dark. It’s not pitch black, but it is nighttime, and breezy. She’s glad the air is still summer warm.

“Oh no,” Shigezane says suddenly. There’s so much dread in his voice she’s worried there’s something dangerous on the beach with them.

She stops walking. “Uh... What’s wrong?” 

“Babe,” he says, gently tugging her hand. “There’s not a single person in any of these seats. Theses chairs are lonely.”

A sound stalls in her throat as she decides how lame that was, but he’s laughing and pulling her with him onto one of the beach chairs, and she goes. These are painted white, and they look soft and blue in the dark. Their bodies sit not very far apart at all on the lounger.

“I came out onto a dark, secluded beach, on a summer night... with a dork,” she deadpans, just like he did. He clutches at his heart and makes a show of her words wounding him.

“But,” she says, leaning the small space it takes to nudge him with her shoulder, “He’s a decent kisser.”

“Oh,” Shigezane says, now making a show of thinking over how that must change things.

“And he has a big heart for lonely furniture,” she whispers as she turns her body.

“Gigantic,” he whispers back. “Monumental.”

“Anything else gigantic you wanna tell me about?” she asks his mouth.

His exhale is sudden and gratifying to her. “Maybe, you know. Something reasonable,” he stutters. “Something reasonably sized--”

She kisses him again.

It’s not long before she’s straddling his lap, flowy dress bunched in his hands at her hips. She can tell from the promising stiffness she’s been grinding against that he was being modest, and she likes that. She likes him.

“I like you,” he says, and his head is tossed back but she’s watching everything she can see of his face, so she catches it. She smiles and puts a little kiss on his chin, just because he’s so damn cute.

“I like you, too,” she tells him. “But if I am going to cling to your shoulders--”

“Please cling to my shoulders. Oh my god. That’s really hot.” 

“Mmhmm. And if I’m going to cling to your shoulders,” she repeats, curving her palms over the tops of his shoulders and loving the muscle she can feel leading toward his back, “You’ll have to undo your pants yourself.”

“Ohhhh my god, okay, yes, absolutely,” he agrees, pushing himself up by the thighs, her grip on his shoulders and his hands holding her hips keeping her from falling. “Cling, babe. Please. I’m steady.”

She lets her hands really grip him and anchors herself with his body. He keeps one hand tight on her hip while the other works at the fly of those damn slacks. “Your ass looks good in those,” she tells him. “When we were spinning each other, I noticed.”

“Don’t make me blush,” he says, but even in the dark she can tell he already is, and smiling, too. He does whatever pulling needs to be done and sighs when his length is free. She can feel the warmth of it, like the sun hid a part of itself away for her to find in the dark.

It’s hard to decide if she wants to keep clinging (it is pretty hot, and she’s enjoying how solidly he’s kept her up by the strength of his shoulders and thighs), or touch him.

“Can I?” she asks.

“Doll, you can do anything you want,” he moans, head going back again. “Keep grinding, don’t grind, please just stay with me.” His hand goes back to her hip and he settles back down, waist of his pants high on his thighs. One day soon she wants to put her hands on his ass when he’s fucking into her, but here on the beach chair it would probably hurt. So she settles for grinding and kissing his Armani-scented jawline, following the cologne to the collar of the linen shirt he’s wearing. One hand stays close to his chest as she slides it down. Down. And then he’s wrapped by her hand and she cannot believe how smooth and thick this man’s dick is. What the hell. 

“I’m game to do more than grind if you are.”

“Fuck, Doll, anything you want, I meant it,” he says, weaving after her mouth as she playfully evades kisses. “But yes, hell yes. Very game. Atari. Dreamcast. Parcheesi.”

“Shut up, Shigezane.” She keeps a light grip as she begins to jerk him.

“I am never going to talk again,” he promises, and she laughs and kisses him and jerks him faster, and doesn’t call him on it when he starts chanting her name and curses and endearments. It’s better to let him, and focus on how damn good he feels in her hand. How good is he going to feel inside her? How would he feel in her mouth?

She has a nice little fantasy of going down on him in the kitchen of her apartment. Just lean him against the fridge-- mind the ice button, Shigezane-- and go to her knees. She thinks she could mouth the head of his cock for days, the skin of the rest of him feels so good.  “Gonna, soon,” he pants.

She leans forward and pulls in a deep breath of his cologne. She’s gotta find out what kind this is. “Well then you need to tell me,” she whispers, “where you want to be when you do.”

His answer is a series of swears but none of them are a location.

“How do you feel about cumming inside me?”

He looks at her like he cannot believe his luck. She likes that.

“Are you-- Yes, but... you’re okay...?”

“Are you clean?” she asks. “I do have a condom in one of my pockets.”

“Thought I could feel that,” he says, squeezing the dress fabric. “My god, you’re a dream.” He clears his throat. “I’m clean,” he says, more seriously. “But I’ll wear it.”

“Do you want to,” she presses.

“Uh, I am-- more than willing,” he sputters. “I think that’s clear?”

She laughs for what feels like the hundredth time that night.

“Shigezane. How do you feel about cumming inside me?” she asks again. She presses him against the very wet gusset of her panties and holds him there so she can make herself even wetter. He’s so hot, and so cute, and his dick feels so good.

Goldilocks.

“I want you to be comfortable,” he says carefully.

“Then I want you in me. I’m lonelier than these chairs,” she tells him.

“Can’t have that,” he says, grinning. She shakes her head and grins right back.

She stands in the sand and holds up the gauzy material of her skirt. “Take ‘em off,” she says.

He says something dumb and cute about it being his pleasure but she can’t scold him for it because as soon as he slips her panties down he starts kissing her pussy and if she thinks about anything but staying upright she will fall into the sand. He lets the stretchy lace fall and puts his hands around her hips, no fabric between them this time, and pushes his tongue into the seam of her body. He finds her clit without any prompting and yes, he’s a good kisser.

“Later,” she gasps, desperate to put her hands in his hair but sure if she lets go of her dress he’ll try to hide in it and get her off. She’s going to get off anyway, she wants to do it with his dorky but perfect cock inside her. “Tomorrow. Tonight, fuck me.”

He groans and asks “How do you want it?” His hands trace up her sides as he stands up. She can feel him touching the fabric at her waist. She’s getting a little dumb and desperate at this point, the party and drinking and all their flirting and the smoothness of him in her hand swirling around in her bloodstream.

She looks around to make sure they’re really alone. Then she pulls her dress the rest of the way over her head and tosses it toward one of the other chairs. Her bra joins it. Shigezane is looking at her like he wants to worship her with his mouth and she knows it’s not a bad idea.

Thinking he’s probably come back from the precipice by then, she takes one of his hands and brings him with her as she stretches out on the only lounger with a cushion. It’s thin, but it’s better than nothing! She’s hoping he’s gonna knock her around a little.

She pulls him like he pulled her for a dance. When he gets on top of her he is  careful with his limbs. He murmurs how gorgeous she is, how he cannot believe he got to even talk to her.

“You’re pretty gorgeous yourself,” she tells him, reaching for him again and rubbing him slowly against her clit. He glides from how wet she is. If he does not put his cock in her soon she’s going to run into the ocean. “Now do more than talk.”

From the first amazing press of his body to hers, he really is just right. And when his mouth finds hers, he shows her again that he’s a very good kisser. Sweet as a sugar rimmed drink.

[hankwritten]

By the Roots

Scout & Soldier, 2k

Part of the DontNeedADiscord Pride Week, Day 2: Family

Of all the people, all the people on the damn planet, it really shouldn’t have been Soldier that figured it.

“You there! I saw that, pipsqueak!” he demanded not two days after the team was first assembled, storming at me across the training yard like I’d already done something wrong. “Regulation warm-up is fifty pushups, not ten and then exclaiming very loudly ‘FIFTY’ as you do that last one! Do not think because you are a woman I will go easy on you. In fact! I will be riding your ass twice as hard so you will be encouraged to measure up to your clearly more dedicated male counterparts!”

There were a lot of things I could object to in that, a lot of things I was planning to object to, but one thing in particular surprised me so much it practically hit me upside the head. “Whoa, hey dude! I ain’t a chick!”

Soldier lifted his helmet with a thumb and peered down at me. “You are not?”

“No a’course I’m not!” I said, flabbergasted. “Would a chick have sick muscles like this? Or like this?” I should off each of my amazing and impressive biceps in turn, a little shocked that he wasn’t falling over in awe due to their sheer awesomeness. “I am peak dude, pally. Why would you even think that?”

“Your small stature, your chicken legs, your feminine jaw, your general weakness, the unending gab from your motor mouth-” Soldier ticked them off on his fingers.

I swatted down his hands. “Dude, jeez, I get it.”

He considered me again. “…You are sure you are not a very petite yet tomboyish girl?”

“Uh, yeah pally,” I scoffed. “I think I’d know.”

Twenty-two months later, my hard earned ponytail fitting snugly through my hat, I wondered if Soldier knew, somehow. That was stupid obviously—Soldier was completely bonkers even by the team’s standards, and if every weirdly nonsensical thing he’d ever said was true then I’d also be a spy from ten different countries and partially made of ranch dressing. But. I guess some small part of me liked the idea that it was apparent to someone. That there was some hard truth out there, and somehow Soldier was in tune with the weird songs of the universe enough to prophesize me even before I’d divined myself.

I was pretty far from the team’s campfire, the rush of the last hour still coursing through my system. It’d gone as well as I could have hoped, with everyone kind of knowing or at least suspecting by this point anyway, but I’d still been nice to get it all out in the open. A little family meeting of sorts. I smiled, watching them laugh and carry on with their drinking.

“Is something the matter, Scout?”

Spy’s voice startled me, but I totally didn’t jump or nothing, just turned my head as the creepy bastard slinked out of the dark.

“Nah,” I told him. “Was just a lot of adrenaline doing all that. Needed a moment to cool off. Not like I’m nervous or nothin’! Could’a talked about shit all day if those knuckleheads didn’t get it through their bozo craniums, but it’s just like after a run you take a breather to make sure you don’t get heat stroke or something-”

Spy held up a hand. “I understand. No need to elaborate.”

“Great. Cool. Just so you know that I’m not freakin’ out.”

He took a spot next to me, the rocks cool where the desert night came on fast and hit hard. We stayed like that for a while, him smoking, me staring with my chin in my arms.

“You come out here to say you’re surprised or something?” I asked, after the moon had ticked a little lower.

He blew a strand of smoke. “It wasn’t my primary goal, no.” He paused. “Though I was, to be sure.”

“Hah! Yeah you were! You should’ve seen your face.” I grinned, kicking a rock. “I can’t believe you were the last person to find out.”

“…I certainly couldn’t have been the last person to-” Spy stopped when he saw the shit-eating grin I was giving him. “Hm. Fine, I suppose I will take this as a loss to my professional pride.”

“Heh. Nice,” I snorted. “So if that isn’t what you wanted to talk about, what was?”

He hesitated a moment. “Scout if I have ever said something, to you or merely in passing that was…greatly insensitive, then I am sorry. I cannot hide the fact that this is not something I have experience with, and if my past ignorance has ever caused you distress then I apologize fully.”

I blinked. Was he serious? “Eh, don’t worry ‘bout it.”

“Ah, so I have made some faux pas. Again I’m sorry-”

“No,” I interrupted him. “I mean seriously, don’t worry about it. ‘Cause I don’t.”

Spy looked genuinely confused, already the second time that night when I’d barely seen him make that face in two years of working together. “Pardon?”

“I don’t really care about what you say,” I shrugged. “When it comes to things that bother me, crap my Ma’s shitty boyfriend says about how I look barely makes the list. After however many years of the way you’ve treated me, I’ve just kinda tuned you out.” I shrugged again. “How it is.”

“…Ah.”

I kinda missed when he was surprised, since that was at least easy to read. Now I didn’t know what to make of the mix of emotions crossing Spy’s face, only that I was sorta bored of the conversation.

“If that’s all you wanted to talk about, I’m heading back to the fire,” I said, smacking my legs as I stood. “Cold out here.”

I left Spy, not checking to see if he was still doing that thing with his face.

I honestly was planning on heading over to the fire, but I saw Soldier sitting on the bed of Engie’s truck, not doing anything but staring into space as he sipped his beer. It wasn’t even conscious really, I just suddenly found my feet moving in his direction, abandoning warmth for the lunatic with the bazooka. The weird things we do on instinct sometimes.

“Yo, Major General,” I greeted. “Feel like the smartest guy in the room yet?”

“I have never claimed to be!” Soldier said. “I settle for being the most tactically sound.”

“I meant about me, dumbass,” I rolled my eyes, then hopped on the bed next to him. I scooped up a beer while I was at it.

“You?” He might have been blinking at me under the helmet.

“One of the first times we ever met, you asked me if I was a chick.”

Soldier rubbed his chin, trying to recall. “…You said you weren’t.”

“Well I didn’t know at the time, dumbass.” I cracked my beer. “But now we all know, so congrats to you, pally.” I toasted in his general direction and drank.

“…How is it?”

“The beer or the chick thing?”

“Being a girl.”

“It’s alright,” I admitted, playing it cool. “The ponytail’s great though. Look! I can do this now.” I bobbled my head, showing that my hat stayed on no matter how hard I shook it. I kept bobbling until I almost fell off the truck, Soldier steadying me at the last moment.

“Careful, missy. You’re going to need to cut that soon if you don’t want it smacking you in the middle of battle,” Soldier pointed out. “That or braid it.”

My hand clamped defensively over the back of my head. “Nah, no way man.” Hearing how whiny that sounded, I tried to pass off my sudden movement as a stretch. “It’s fine. Plus I don’t even know how to braid.”

“…I could do it for you.”

Of all the batshit things Soldier had said to me over the years, this took the cake. “You? Know how to braid?”

I wanted to ask if he was pulling my leg right now, but his expression was just as dead serious as ever. He pointed downward and made a circular motion.

Hesitantly, I turned around, and felt him lift off my cap. The ponytail threaded out of it, and he tugged at the elastic until my hair fell free around my shoulders. I’d seen myself with it down in the mirror every morning before pulling it up, but it still felt odd to have it hanging free here in the same place we killed BLUs and got our guts blasted full of lead. Soldiers fingers carded through the loose strands, dividing them into chunks, but despite that it wasn’t nearly as weird as I thought it would be. It was actually…nice almost.

He wasn’t gentle—this was still Soldier after all—but the tugging at my roots was more pull than yank, a careful suggestion to go one way or the other. Nudging me towards something.

“How’d you learn to do this, anyway?” I asked.

“Used to do my sister’s,” he said gruffly. “Little sisters can’t do anything by themselves. They always try to follow you around, and then they get in trouble or fall in a creek or something.”

His fingers brushed against my neck every now and again. “As a professional little sister, that sounds about right.”

“You are not a professional little sister. You are a professional Scout. What sister-ing you do, you do on your own time missy.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Soldier slipped the elastic around the braid’s end. I swung it around a few times, trying to see if Soldier had messed it up somehow, but only managed to almost fall off the truck bed again. Maybe that beer was really hitting me.

“…Thanks Solly,” I said, gently touching the braid’s end.

“Any time, private. If you need me to teach you, I will happily train you in the art of braids,” he declared. “And knot tying! But only if you meet my standards on the braid portion of the exam.”

I grinned at him. I’d done a lot of weeding, taking out the people and things I didn’t want in my life, but it was nice to know there were things I wouldn’t have to get rid of entirely. “Sure Soldier. I’ll think about it.”

[flying-nightwing]

Pink and Totalitarianism Always Go Hand in Hand

Here’s the promised crack fic. Disclaimer, this is terrible in every and any form, because it is meant to be that way. If you want quality, structure, a story that makes sense, this ain’t it chief. This is certified Crack. If you finish this and all you can say is something along the lines of “what the fuck”, my work here is done. (Besides, this isn’t edited to add to the overall crack vibe)

Enjoy and good luck, because it get worse and worse as it goes

Masterlist in bio // pinned post

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Word count: 4626

Warnings: Mention of drugs, light non-graphic violence, language

Summary: You’re stuck in a world that does not make sense, alone and surrounded by secret police and spies that will report you to the government. One early morning, Jason appears in your living room. His arrival gives you an opportunity to get the hell out of there for good. 

You had taken a habit of sleeping lightly.

You, who had once cherished your sleep like it was the rarest gem in the world. Yet, you found out you had still severely underappreciated its importance in your life, something you realized only when it was gone. You missed it like an old friend who was gone to war and died on the front, leaving words forever unsaid. What would you do for just one more night in your bed, with your own pillows and that drool stain that just wouldn’t leave anymore, sleeping like a log until the late morning. Or just a nap, that even would be enough. But you were far from home now, and you didn’t have a lot of hope you’d ever come back. 

When you heard a loud thump in the living room, your eyes flew open and your muscles tensed. Pushing off the pink comforter and pulling on the equally pink robe that was draped over the wooden chair, you carefully made your way down the corridor and toward the sound. A man dressed in black and red, with a red helmet complementing his strange outfit was standing there, looking around like he was trying to understand what was going on. You plastered a smile on your face. 

“Hiya there” The corner of your mouth hurt from the strain of smiling so wide. “Can I help you?”

“Uh?” He looked up, and even through his helmet you could assume his eyes were wide with confusion. They wouldn’t get you this time, you’d make sure of it. He didn’t fool anyone. “Where am I?”

“Silly!” You laughed, waving your hand in a small dismissive gesture. “We’re in Happy Town, obviously!”

“Uh?” He repeated, already visibly exhausted. That one agent lasted longer than the last, you had to give him that. His confusion was credible and well played down to the last detail. “Listen, lady, I’m sorry I crashed your house but I need you to point me toward Metropolis”

“Metropolis? I haven’t heard of a city of that name” You didn’t drop the smile. The goddamn smile. “Although, you are quite illegal sir, black and red are prohibited colors”

“... What?” 

“I’m afraid you’ll need to change” You explained. “Luckily for you, I have spares in the bedroom. Come along”

“Wait, prohibited?” He repeated, and you nodded eagerly. A test, it’s always a test. “What colors aren’t prohibited then?”

“Well, pink, you silly goose!”

He stared at you for the longest time. “What the fuck”

You froze. Actual agents were not allowed to swear, under any circumstances. They were physically not able to, even. “What did you say?”

“I said what the fuck”

You let your smile drop and sighed in relief. “Oh thank fuck”

“Hey, stay with me” He waved a hand in your face. “What the fuck is going on? Where am I?”

“Okay, we don’t have a lot of time, but basically” You paused, looking around to make sure all of your curtains were closed. You found a way to disable your microphones, but you had only to sunrise before they turned back on again. It was less suspicious that way, when you could attribute the lack of sound to you sleeping. Besides, you couldn’t risk you saying incriminating things in your sleep. “We are in a side dimension called Happy Town, but things are sketchy here. I don’t know what they are hiding, but if you don’t stick to their gimmick to the letter, you’re going to reeducation camps and stuff. This is some serious brainwashing, and I’m talking worse than Scientology”

“Fuck” He swore, taking off his helmet. “How did I get here?”

“Some portal, I dropped in the same place you did” You spoke quickly, in a hushed tone. “I haven’t found a way out, obviously, but if you came from Earth too, I’m betting there’s something I missed”

“This is insane” 

“You tell me” You scoffed. “And you haven’t even seen how bonkers this place really is yet”

“Do I really have to wear pink?” He flinched, and your eyes widened.

“Yes, you do!” You replied. “They will have you under scrutinization as soon as you step out of this house. If you want to survive, you must follow the rules to the letter. They don’t fuck around, I tell ya. When I first appeared, all the neighbors moved away and were immediately replaced by other creepier neighbors. I swear they’re spies. They’re all spies!”

“Wait, how long have you been there?”

“I don’t know, years?” You guessed. Could have been any measure of time really, you couldn’t know for sure. “I have no idea how I got through their brainwashing sessions. Either I outsmarted them, or they have no idea what they’re doing. It’s better not to take any chance, though”

“This is fucked up” He sighed and sat on the couch. “Besides wearing pink, what do I have to do?”

“Oh boy, sit tight” You began pacing in front of him. You didn’t know him, but he was your best chance at getting the hell out of here. Your bed now seemed a little bit closer now, even though you knew you’d never sleep the same. “It’s not just the clothing that’s pink, it’s any fabric, by the way, because happy people like pink”

It was like he was now aware that every couch, chair, carpet, curtain in your house was actually pink. 

“You gotta smile, always. You gotta look like chuck-e-cheese on crack” You continued, pacing in front of him. “Talking of which, never, EVER eat pie. I don’t know what’s in it, but it messes with your brain. Always find an excuse or distraction to avoid eating it”

“I’m not--”

“Never allude to the microphones you might find, act like you’ve never seen them and have no idea they’re there” You added. “Also, tomorrow we’ll have to get you registered if we don’t want the secret police to storm the house. You’ll have to follow my lead or we’re both dead, got it?”

“Yeah but--”

“Don’t say anything incriminating during the day” You interrupted him again. “I tweaked the microphones so they’re scrambled from midnight to sunrise. But that’s it. Also, always assume anyone you talk to is a spy or a snitch. It’s the Stasi all over again here, you can’t trust anyone who you don’t hear swear, which is nobody”

“Wai wait” He stopped you as you opened your mouth to continue on. “Why?”

“Because the people from here cannot swear, happy people don’t swear, they smile and giggle” You felt your eye twitch as you recited the lines you were fed over and over again. “The people engineered here are not able to, only those they kidnapped from Earth. Bad news is, beside that, they are virtually non-differentiable from each other. And they all wear those stupid pink clothes, only the regular police wears a darked shade of magenta. Other than that, all the same”

Confusion and horror was evident on his face. He sat there, processing it all as your eyes fell on the clock. You had about ten minutes until the first rays of sun showed up and reactivated the mics. “There’s no way back?” He finally asked.

“Not that I know of yet” You wrapped your hands around yourself. “You know, I have been begging for help out of this hell hole. You might be the key. Anyway, we gotta change you into something non offensive before they find out you’re here”

You dragged him in the bedroom, leaving him at the threshold while you rummaged through the dresser. All those clothes had been there too when you popped in the house, as if they had known exactly what they were doing by bringing you here. However, it wasn’t clear whether or not they had planned for their new citizen to be you. Ad judging by the arsenal of weapons on the new guy, ir reinforced your theory that the actual selection was still experimental. You weren’t exactly the shut up and obey type, and you doubted he was either.

“What’s your name?” You asked as you pulled a pink cardigan out of a drawer. It occured to you that you might have to know what to call him. Polite people knew the name of their housemate. You grabbed a yet again pink pair of slacks and pushed the clothes in his hands.

“Uh, Jason” He replied, surprised at the sudden income of pink fabric. You threw him the socks, suspenders, bow tie, belt and dress shirt that was, you guessed it, the exact same color as the rest. He was covered in pink clothes like a coat hanger.

“(Y/N)”

“Hey, I’m not wearing that” He objected as he took a better look at the clothes. His face turned to disdain as he shook his head like he had drank bad milk. “Nope, no way”

“If you don’t wear pink, they’ll kill you” You said through your teeth.

“No, I’m not talking about the pink” He said, his expression unchanging. He pulled the cardigan and held it up. “This. This won’t do at all. I’m not wearing a fucking cardigan”

You stared at him, wide eyed. You didn’t have the time to deal with that, sunrise was a few minutes away!

“You will wear that cardigan or so help me” You said in a low, yet threatening voice. He recoiled. “Suck. It. Up.”

Wordlessly, he headed for the bathroom on the other side of the bedroom. He changed in two minutes, coming back awkwardly with his pile of dark clothes. You picked them from him and walked to that spot just beside your bed, and kneeled. You unscrewed the floor board, which was already loose, and you deposited the bundle, weapons and all, next to a very, very dusty blue jeans and burgundy coat. You hurried to replace everything like it hadn’t been touched and stood up again to face an all pink, visibly uncomfortable Jason. He was tying his bow, a displeased frown on his face. It made you wonder what was his life before. He changed rather quickly, and didn’t seem confused by the way bow ties worked.

“What now?”

“We gel your hair”

“No” His eyes widened. The wake up siren sounded outside, and like a reflex learned through violent lessons, your face pulled into a pained smile. You still made a zipping motion over your mouth, pointing to the bathroom. With a silent sigh, he complied.

---

His smile looked unnatural.

But again, so did yours probably. So did everyone’s. Smiling that much wasn’t natural for anyone or anything but perhaps a hyena. Or a clown. You walked arms in arms with him, waving at people sending you curious glances, their smiles unwavering. The government was already aware of this presence, either because they zapped him there or because they heard your made up meeting conversation through the microphones. 

“Okay, I see what you meant by everyone is a spy” He muttered through his teeth, making sure his lips weren’t moving. He was holding to his grin like it was a lifeline. And it was. 

“Right?” You replied in the same manner. “So don’t slip”

“I won’t”

“Well hello there!”

You jumped in surprise at the Mayor appearing in front of you, seemingly out of nowhere. You put your free hand on your heart and laughed. “Hi there, you startled me good!”

He laughed. Jason laughed. It all seemed forced. 

“I see we have an addition in Happy Town!” The mayor pointed to Jason, nodding in approval at his attire. “Where did you come from?”

His first test.

“I… Came from Earth!” He replied with enthusiasm. “Although I have to say, I looooove this place. It’s so… Happy!”

Well played, Jason. Well played.

“I am so glad to hear you say that” He placed a “friendly” pat on his shoulder, but he seemed satisfied. “What is your name, lad?”

“Dick Grayson, sir” 

You swallowed back your confusion at his words, but also at the hint of genuine smile that crossed his expression. Keep smiling.

“Well Mr. Grayson, welcome to Happy Town!” They shook hands. “I see Miss (Y/N) is already taking care of you, integrating you nicely in our community”

His gaze shifted to you as a silent warning behind those cold, smiling eyes. You had your fair history of problems with them, but they had every reason to think it was over now. Still, the warning lingered. But those pink assholes wouldn’t catch you this time.

“I’ll make sure he becomes one of us in no time!” You assured, giving a light nod to Jason.

“No doubt you’ll make an amazing couple” He tipped his pink hat and you noticed Jason held back a cough of surprise. “The daily play of the anthem is about to start, I must return to city hall. I’ll see you around!”

He waved. You waved. Jason waved. He walked away with a skip in his step like the happy jerk he was.

“Couple?” He said, coming back to your public mode of communicating. 

“Sorry, I should have warned you” You sighed internally.

“Sorry?”

“Yeah!” You wanted to burst out so bad. “What about it, Dick Grayson?”

“I wasn’t about to give them my real name” He defended, watching around for people noticing your hushed conversation. But everybody was preparing for the anthem, their attention directed to the morning messages man on the giant screens.

“So you gave that poor guy’s instead?”

“Poor? Nah. Relax, he can take care of himself” What you were sure was a chuckle escaped his lips. “Besides, he’s not even--”

“Ladies and Gentlemen, please rise for our national anthem”

You elbowed Jason and stood up straight, the sun hitting the side of your face. He mimicked your posture. The music started, and you could see faltering in the corner of your eye.

“Is this--”

“Yes”

“What the fuck”

“I know”

“Whyyyyyyy”

“Stay with me” You urged silently. You really didn’t know how or why Happy Town’s anthem came to be ‘Yeah!’ by Usher feat Lil Jon and Ludacris, but even if you did, now was not the ideal time or place to get into that kind of discussion. You suspected it had something to do with the exclamation mark after the ‘yeah’. But you could be wrong. You still didn’t understand the bigger picture however, since the lyrics clearly contained the word ‘not’ followed directly by ‘happy’ in the first verse, which made ‘not happy’. It was against the party line. 

“Okay, we stage a coup tonight” He decided as the song ended. “I don’t think I can do this another day”

----

Midnight came slowly.

After a day of mingling and presenting Jason as Dick Grayson and your future husband like the Mayor had most probably hinted at during your morning encounter, of slyly getting out of eating pie and avoiding the police, you were glad to finally breathe. 

“UUUUGH” Jason whined, plopping on the couch. “I can never look at the color pink the same way ever again. I’m sick of it, sick of it!”

“Get it together!” You snapped. “We need to plan our coup. We’ve got one shot for it, and if it fails we’re toast. I need my bed, Jason. MY BED”

“Alright, what do you have in mind?” He asked, taking a deep breath. “You know this place more than I do”

“I say tomorrow night, we quietly follow the police after their curfew patrol round” You began, biting the skin around your nails. “How good is your stealth?”

He looked at you blankly for a good ten seconds before he let out a small, ironic snort. “Above average, I’d say”

It was like he wanted you to ask why he’d think that, but you were too busy thinking about your plan. “Good, good” You nodded. “There must be some headquarters somewhere. All we have to do is get there, threaten them at gunpoint--Your guns are functional yes?”

“Obviously”

“--So they’ll zap us back to Earth. And if not, we shoot the mayor and take control of this hell”

“That escalated quickly,” He stated. “But what the hell, sure, I’m on board. Let’s go”

“Tomorrow the sun sets at 8:07. We’ll need to be changed and ready to go by then”

“Wait, tomorrow?” He sprung up in his seat, eyes wide. “No, no. I can’t take one more day of pink cardigans and pleasant conversations with spies!”

“DEAL WITH IT” You gestured wildly before calming down almost instantly. You didn’t need the neighbors to hear and report a fight. “Patrol is already over for today. Be smart about this”

“Fine” He sighed aggressively. “But if this flops, I’m taking everyone down with me. There won’t be an after tomorrow, I can fucking tell you”

“Yeah I won’t stop you”

“Good”

“Good.”

You stayed there in silence, unmoving for a moment. This was it. The moment you’ve been waiting for. Your liberation. Your bed was less than 24 hours a day if things went as planned, which you hoped it would. 

“I’ll… Sleep on the couch” He mumbled after a while, moving to lay down. YOur eyes widened.

“You can’t” You objected, knowing the government would find a way to find out the scam you were running through that detail. 

“Why not?”

“If the secret police comes for a surprise inspection and your side of the bed is cold, we’re kaputt” You explained. “We’re supposed to be at the very least fiancés, remember?”

“God fucking dammit” He swore, looking up at the sky like it would help him. Ha, you already tried that and it didn’t work.

---

The next day, as you prepared the decaf pot of coffee because happy people didn’t need caffeine to be happy, a knock sounded on your door. Jason was taking a shower in the bathroom, so you went and opened the door. Like you had predicted, two men in dark magenta stood at your doorstep with dangerous looking smiles. 

“Good morning ma’am” One greeted with a tip of his hat. “This is a surprise inspection, warranted by the new arrivant in your household, name Dick Grayson and title husband to be. May we come in?”

Your smile widened as you stepped aside, like you actually had a choice in the matter.

“Of course!” You exclaimed. “Coffee, officers?”

“We’ll have to politely decline, thank you” The other smiled as they came in and observed the clean state of the house. All houses were required to be neat and clean at all times. They looked around for something out of place, slowly but surely directing themselves to the bedroom at the end of the hall. You followed them a few paces away, ready to answer their question if they had some. It wasn’t your first surprise check. 

They finally reached the room, from where they could hear the shower running. Their gazes caught the neatly folded pink pile on the bed, then they surrounded it. They started to feel under the comforter and drapes, on the pillows, everywhere they could spot the presence or absence of another person. You called it, oh you so called it.

The shower stopped, and both officers shared a look. “Alright, everything is in order ma’am. Have a good breakfast and a good day!”

You escorted them to the door, threw them a thank you on the way and silently sighed once the door closed behind them. You returned to your coffee, and not long after, Jason emerged from the hallway all dressed in pink.

“Ooh, who were the gentlemen here?” He inquired cheerily, but you knew what it meant. 

“Some nice officers came to see if we were doing fine here!” You replied with equal cheer.

“Shucks, I missed them” He snapped his fingers, chuckling. “Next time perhaps”

“Of course!” The pep in your voice did not match your eye roll. Thank god there were no cameras. 

You finished breakfast and went to town once again, like you did everyday. You felt like everyone was staring at you even more than usual. Like they all knew what you planned for that night. You might have been slightly paranoid, but Jason’s calm demeanor was helping. He was good at that, like he had practiced for all of his life to deceive people.

The mayor bothered you again after the daily play of the anthem, a song you were sure would elicit a violent reaction from you once you would be back in the real world. Then, you repeated the same daily routine you had had forever. Smile, avoid the pie, smile, talk with the neighbors-spies, smile, think about how life is amazing, smile.

Smile smile smile smile smile smile. 

Eurgh.

That night, the pleasant conversations contained codes to trump the microphones. Jason pretended to dance while you unscrewed the loose floorboard and carefully placed his clothes and weapons on the bed. You picked your old clothes, quietly dusting them off. They smelled weird but you were excited to wear something other than pepto bismol dyed fabric. Making sure the curtains were drawn, you proceeded to change. Jason looked ecstatic to finally be rid of his cardigan, while you took a moment to appreciate your black t-shirt and burgundy coat. While he had his red helmet, he handed you a domino mask from his pocket. You had no idea why he had that, but you took it anyway. It looked cool and rebel. You sneaked through the back door, avoiding the spots of light by either lamps outside your house and street posts. You watched the patrol casually making sure everyone was inside, keeping a good distance in between you and them at every time. They weren’t talking, but whistling some creepy tunes. You had to make a small hike through a hill when they entered a gated tunnel, but you ended up in front of a giant factory where workers dressed in grey buzzed around with crates. YOu gasped.

“Illegal” You muttered.

“What?”

You shook your head. They had gotten to you too much, it was time you left that god forsaken place. “Nevermind. How do we go through that barbed wire?”

He pulled out a medium sized pair of cutters from… You had no idea where, but he had them. You shrugged, gesturing to him to go ahead. In a blink, you were in. You sneaked inside without being seen, navigating the building with guesses and feelings. You finally ended up in the main production room, where crates of products were opened and emptied in a giant bassin. The stirred liquid was purple and smelled strange, but you knew it was to do no good. And right beside, there was the pie filling packaging. 

“I knew it!” You hissed under your breath. “They’re putting drugs in the pie! Can you see what it is? Cocaine? Heroin?

“Doesn’t seem like…” He leaned in. “Wait…”

“Al-- Allegra?” You managed to read the crate.”Never heard of it, but it must be terrible and dangerous”

Jason turned his head and stared at you. HIs helmet bore no expression, but you were sure he looked at you like you were dumb. Did he know what it was? “Are you kidding me?”

“No, why?”

“Allegra is--” He sighed. “It’s allergy medication. It’s… Not drugs per say”

“Uh?”

“God dammit--” He paused as something caught his eyes. It was sparkly, and unfit for this environment. From it emerged five armed guys dressed in earth clothes. They had a bag of white substance, which was tasted by the man who welcomed them. “Of fuck, THAT’s cocaine” 

You waited as they put some of it in a vial, which already had purple liquid. 

“Fuck, they mix it with allegra?” He cursed, mostly to himself. “What kind of fucking insane dimension did I step in?” 

“I told you”

“Okay, so those guys will have to leave eventually” Jason pointed at the visibly Earth humans. “We’ll make sure we catch it as well”

“But they have machine guns” You pointed out, not sure how his mind worked. 

“Wait for my signal” You knew he was grinning under that helmet. Before you could ask him how the fuck he would manage five armed guys, he jumped over the rail and started running toward them. You shut your eyes shut as gunshots went off, then opened them again when it was silent. There were bodies around, but Jason was still standing, wrestling with two guys. You watched for a few seconds when you noticed a pink figure sneakily approaching from behind, a frying pan in his hand.

The mayor!

You jumped over the rail too, but your landing was way less graceful than Jason’s. Actually, you were pretty sure you sprained your ankle. But still, you ran-limped to the man and jumped on his back before he could bonk Jason’s head with his weapon.

“ARRRRRGH”

He did not see you coming, as he lost balance at your attack. You crashed on the ground, where you managed to get on top and start hitting him. But apparently neither of you knew how to punch, so it was a rather pathetic looking fight. You swapped and slapped, pulled hair and scratched, until you got a hold of his pan and made a pancake of his face. 

“Take that you pink fucking nightmare” You spat as you stood up. You turned to Jason, whose shoulders were shaking with silent laughter.

“Wow uh” He covered it with a cough. “That sure was an interesting fight to watch”

“Keep mocking me, mister fucking assassin” You rolled your eyes. “I stopped him from bonking your head”

“Alright, alright, thank you”

“No problem” You replied. “Let’s get out of here”

You went and stood on the platform the dealers came through, then waited. But nothing happened.

“I think we need to activate it” He spoke up. That was logical.

You scanned the room for a panel control, and you believed you spotted it on the opposite wall. You grabbed your shoe to throw at it, before Jason held back your arm’s motion.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Activating the portal” You furrowed your brows, pointing at the panel. A big red button on which was written ‘ON’ was glaring at you from the distance. Practical target.

“Don’t throw your shoe, that’s dumb” He snorted. “Let me”

Before you could argue, he cocked his gun and fired a bullet right on the button. A death sound resonated, but nevertheless sparks began to fly and not just from the ruined panel. The portal opened and swallowed you, sending you through flashes and weird colors until you were spat out in a dull, dark place that smelled bad. Jason seemed to have landed just fine, but you were another story. You pulled yourself up, whining at the pain in your ankle. 

“I didn’t expect to see you here”

A creepy, unknown voice made you both turn around. It was a pale man with an unnaturally stretched smile and bad taste in clothes, and right away it made you think the worst. You had been thrown in Dark!Happy Town. Without thinking, you let out a war cry and hurled your frying pan to the more evil version of the Mayor, knocking him out instantly.

What you didn’t expect though, was the roaring laughter from beside you. 

“Oh--Oh my god” He could barely talk. “I wished I filmed that”

“What? What’s happening?” You asked. Had he gone crazy? “Who’s that? We’re not back home are we?”

“Relax, we’re back” He took a deep breath, his shoulders still shaking. “You’ve just knocked out the most wanted criminal in Gotham city”

“WHAT?”

“Welcome back, (Y/N), welcome back”

[tehri]

Look, I’ve been writing stuff using Tolkien Gateway’s handy page for explaining the Shire Calendar for a long while now, and basically every dang time I see someone refer to the Shire Calendar in fics, there are errors, and I am a nitpicky damn person and I will therefore write this post.

Have I said lately that hobbits are nuts? Because they are. They are so nuts. So insanely bonkers. So nuts that they, some 300 years prior to the War of the Ring, simply because they didn’t like the old one, worked through a reform of how their calendar works so that the following things would happen:

The new year would begin on the first day of the week, and it would end on the last day of the week.

Every month would have 30 days in it and would always correspond to the same weekdays. No more moving dates, the way we have it. Also means no month ever begins on a Friday.

12 months of 30 days each. You can guess a few days are missing. Well, thanks to this Handy New Reform, five additional days are added to make out the 365 day year. Plus a sixth for leap years.

This reform came about in the days of Thain Isengrim II, during his reign between 1083-1122, by Shire-reckoning. Which in, you know, actual Third Age years is around 2683-2722. Because hobbits also have that little thing that they count the years with year 1 being the year TA 1601 - when the Shire was first colonized.

ANYWAY I’m not here to talk about the Shire-reckoning, but about their calendar, F̫͎͍̤͍ͪ͌͂͂͞ͅO̩̹ͣ̅̇͛͢Ċ̷͉̙̱͈̳̥̙ͯ̃̎U̵͈͈͛͐Ŝ͍̫̖̘̘̤͇͑͊͊͟

Okay. So. It used to be that hobbits did not count weeks, but months - the passages of the moon ruled their calendar. In that calendar, the new year began right after harvest. But through contact with other races, they began to count weeks as well. This new way of reckoning was based on what is called the Kings’ Reckoning - the calendar system used in Númenor, Gondor, and Arnor - but with some minor alterations to fit the hobbits.

But the hobbits thought that this constant shifting of weekdays in relation to dates was untidy and inconvenient - so they made it tidy and convenient, by ensuring that Mid-year’s Day (and their Leap Year day, Overlithe) would not correspond to a weekday. They would be their own thing.

Sounds simple, right? Well, let’s face it, there were some issues around it, but the hobbits worked through it and formed their new calendar, which goes roughly like this:

2nd Yule - first day of the new year

Afteryule - first month of the year, roughly corresponding to the dates of 23rd December - 21st January in our calendar

Solmath - month 2, 22nd January - 20th February

Rethe - month 3, 21st February - 22nd March

Astron - month 4, 23rd March - 21st April

Thrimidge - month 5, 22nd April - 21st May

Forelithe - month 6, 22nd May - 20th June

The Lithe-days: 1st Lithe (21st June), Mid-year’s Day (22nd June), Overlithe if there’s a Leap Year (no corresponding date), and 2nd Lithe (23rd June)

Afterlithe - month 7, 24th June - 23rd July

Wedmath - month 8, 24th July - 22nd August

Halimath - month 9, 23rd August - 21st September

Winterfilth - month 10, 22nd September - 21st October

Blotmath - month 11, 22nd October - 20th November

Foreyule - month 12, 21st November - 20th December

1st Yule - last day of the year

Little bit confusing, isn’t it? But well, hobbits, you know. To add to it, their Mid-year’s Day is meant to correspond to the summer solstice, and is approximately 10 days earlier than our mid-year’s day.

So. The main holidays that the hobbits had were the Yule-days and the Lithe-days - the end/beginning of the year and the middle of the year. Plus that Highday, the last day of the week and corresponding to our Friday, was considered a holiday where hobbits often held evening feasts. As it stands, the 1st of Yule and the 1st of Lithe both fell on Highday, too. Fun fact - it corresponds to the day Orbelain in the Númenorean week, which is dedicated to the Valar. This would reasonably have been a thing also in Arnor when the hobbits settled the Shire, which would likely be why the hobbits grew to consider Highday a holiday and a time for feasts.

Alright, so what can we even get out of this mess? Well - first of all, we can’t actually use our own calendar as example of when important events happened for the hobbits. And beyond that, have a nitpick of mine that has bothered me for ages: Bilbo and Frodo were born on the first of Winterfilth, NOT in Halimath. Halimath kind of corresponds to September, yes, but the LAST day of Halimath is the 21st of September, the day BEFORE Bilbo’s and Frodo’s birthday.

Have we all learned something today? Yes? Good? Good. Byebye, it just snowed, I’m going outside to enjoy the hobbit-calendar new year, it’s already the 5th of Afteryule!

[august-anon]

ooh do what i couldn't during tickletober - "asking for it" with lee!aubrey/ler!dani 👀👀 ~spikey 🌵 (no pressure of course!!)

<3 <3 <3 @inconveniently-placed-cactus this is also dedicated to your birthday since I was too sick to write you anything else lol (even though this is even a week late oops lol)

How To Ask

Fandom: The Adventure Zone: Amnesty

Ship(s): Danbrey (? I think that is their ship name? Lol)

Characters (lee/ler): Ler!Dani/Lee!Aubrey

Word Count: 1134 words

Summary: Aubrey's been craving some playful affection lately, but there's no way she can just ask for it. No, this requires a plan.

[ao3 link]

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

Aubrey wanted something.

It was something she was rather certain no one would mind giving her, Duck or Jake or Dani, but it wasn’t exactly something she was willing to ask for. It was, after all, somewhat embarrassing. Far harder to say than “I’m bisexual” or even “I’m magic,” and, to her, it somehow felt far weirder.

Aubrey was used to being weird, to being different. She was often too hyperactive for her peers, or too hyperfocused on her interests. Despite her ability to talk and talk, she missed social cues. Reading body language and facial expressions wasn’t her strong suit.

But asking to be tickled? Her social skills may suck most of the time, but she was pretty sure that crossed an awkwardness line.

So, she needed a plan that didn’t involve her asking. Operation: Annoy Someone Into Tickling Her was a go.

Dani was closest, currently, so that would be her first target. Which wasn’t easy, because Dani was very sweet and therefore could be difficult to annoy. Also, cute girls absolutely made Aubrey short circuit and even after all these months, she still hadn’t gotten up the guts to even consider asking Dani out.

Dani was relaxing in a small copse of trees when Aubrey found her, not that far from the lodge. She had some sort of notebook or sketchbook in her lap -- Aubrey wasn’t going to pry without Dani’s invitation -- and Aubrey could hear Dr Harris Bonkers, PhD snuffling around somewhere. He knew better than to run away, so Aubrey didn’t mind Dani letting him get some fresh air.

“Hey, Dani,” Aubrey chirped, plopping down onto the grass next to her.

Dani turned and smiled up at her, strands of blonde hair seeming to glow in the sunlight streaming through the trees. Aubrey’s heart fluttered and her mouth went dry.

“Hey, Aubrey,” Dani said. “How are you?”

“Oh, I--I’m good! Are you good?”

Dani laughed a little. “Yeah, Aubrey, I’m good.”

“You, uh-- are you busy?”

“No, I’m free. What’s going on?”

“Nothing, nothing! I just… was looking for some company?”

Dani laughed again. “Well, I’m told that my company isn’t too bad.”

Aubrey replied with nothing more than an awkward little laugh, and leaned up against the tree next to Dani. They sat in silence for a short while, Dani doing whatever-it-was in her something-book while Aubrey twiddled her thumbs and considered her next move.

God, maybe she should’ve gone for Duck. He’s an older brother, it would probably be so easy. Dammit.

“What’s on your mind?”

Aubrey jumped. “What?”

Dani tilted her head. “What’s got you thinking so hard, Aubrey?”

“Uh, nothing! I mean, it’s nothing important.”

Dani poked her in the side. “You sure? You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Aubrey couldn’t help the squeak that dropped from her lips at Dani’s poke, nor the flinch that accompanied it. “Uh, y-yeah.”

This was it. Dani had to do it after that reaction, she just had to! Who wouldn’t give into their predatory instinct at a squeak like that? Aubrey was perfect prey--

But Dani just smiled at her and went back to her something-book.

Aubrey threw her head back against the tree and groaned, covering her face with her hands. Fuck, she really had to spell it out for Dani, didn’t she. Hopefully it wouldn’t be as awkward as she imagined. Maybe Sylvains didn’t have the same social rules?

“You ready to talk about it, yet?”

“I--”

Dani leaned forward. She smelled like flowers and fruit and something completely foriegn, like it wasn’t from earth. Aubrey’s mind went blank.

“Will you tickle me?”

Dani blinked. “Tickle you?”

Aubrey jerked backward, smacking a hand over her face. “No, I-- that’s not what I meant, I just--”

“Aubrey,” Dani said, and Aubrey could hear the smile in her voice. “If you’re okay, then I’m okay.”

Aubrey peeked through her fingers. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

And then Dani’s grin widened as she set her something-book aside and lunged at Aubrey.

Aubrey was already laughing as she fell back, even though she wasn’t being tickled yet. Her laughter got even more shrill as Dani’s fingers carefully touched down on her sides. On instinct, her hands sought out Dani’s in an effort to defend herself, but Dani was too fast for her. Fingers darted across her sides, her stomach, her ribs. Aubrey’s laughter got even louder as Dani’s hands slipped up under her arms.

“Wait, no--!”

Dani laughed, looming above her. “What’s wrong, Aubrey? You were the one asking for it!”

Aubrey thrashed and borderline-cackled, fisting her fingers into the grass beneath the two of them and ripping it up. Dani’s hands wormed their way out from under her arms and skittered up to her neck and ears, fingernails wreaking havoc on Aubrey’s poor nerves as Aubrey was lost to squealing giggles.

“Do you know how cute the sounds you make are?” Dani asked, cocking her head to the side.

“Don’t tease!” Aubrey shrieked, entirely not meaning it.

“Teasing? Well, I didn’t mean to, but if that’s an option…”

“No!”

Dani laughed, her hands darting down to squeeze Aubrey’s hips. “On a scale from one to ten, how bad would you say this tickles?”

Not even Aubrey was sure what she shouted, with the gibberish pouring out through her laughter, but Dani nodded very seriously, as if they were having an intelligent discussion. Aubrey went limp as Dani’s fingers dug into her thighs.

“I see. What about this, would you say this feels a little ticklish?”

Aubrey shook her head wildly, knowing she would have to try and tame her hair all over again before heading back to the lodge.

“No? Am I not doing it right, Aubrey? Maybe you should give me a little direction.”

“Dani!” Aubrey wheezed, gathering all her strength together to be able to turn herself on her stomach, hoping to limit her weak points.

Aubrey did not expect Dani’s hand to shoot right up to her bare lower back -- perhaps a crop top was a mistake for this endeavor -- and her nails to start skittering around weak points Aubrey didn’t even know she had. Aubrey’s laughter went silent as she clawed at the ground, and after a few more moments, Dani finally let up.

“You alright?” She asked, laying a gentle (yet firm enough not to tickle) hand on Aubrey’s shoulder blades.

Aubrey exhaled a few residual giggles. “I’m fucking awesome.”

Dani laughed and leaned over her, pressing a feather-light kiss to her cheekbone. “Wanna get lunch?”

“I-- lunch-- lunch? I eat lunch.”

Dani entwined their fingers and laughed again, a beautiful sound, and Aubrey decided that she could die happy.

Well, maybe she would get her revenge first to hear more of that laughter, and then she could die happy. Yeah, that worked.