When You Think You Can’t Get Any More Hype, And Then Your Favorite Author Posts Something Like This.

*screams in 60 languages at once about how fucking cute this is.

it’s my favorite flarkin’ color— whaddaya mean it doesn’t go any faster? (don’t worry, he’ll make it better)

rocket fanart masterlist let me love your OCs masterlist | current queue | main masterlist

raccoon dividers by @/thecutestgrotto fairylight dividers by @saradika-graphics

A secret or a heartbreaking revelation? Wanda and Rocket have more in common than one would think.

the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip.✮ part six. idaho. washington.

the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip masterlist prev | next [est june 25] | main masterlist

angst, comfort, friendship, & fluff for @hibatasblog rocket & wanda | part 6/7 | word count: 2210.

our heroes share their secrets.

During a watch party for Avengers: Endgame on Twitter, Markus revealed the idea to team Wanda with the Guardian of the Galaxy captain actually made it into several versions of the film's script. "We had whole drafts with Wanda on a road trip with Rocket," Markus wrote, "but after the Vision plot in Infinity War, nothing we came up with was anything but wheel spinning for her character." CBR

The city of Missoula spreads out underneath them like a lakeful of stars or a well of distant coins, glimmering in the night-velvet hug of the mountains. When the sun crests the horizon, they'll make their way through Idaho and onto the last little part of their journey — but for now, Wanda leans against the open window of the bed-and-breakfast where they’ve holed up for the night and lets the Montana breeze kiss the ends of her hair. She closes her lashes, and for a moment, she can almost imagine it’s Vis, leafing through her crimson locks with gentle, marveling hands. 

You’re only gonna become someone’s nightmare.

Well, she thinks savagely — she’s always been someone’s nightmare. They hadn’t decided to call her a witch for no reason. Made by circumstance and bastardized science — layers of folded power. Sure, people fear Danvers for her strength, too — but Danvers has blond hair and an impulsive, crooked smile. For some reason, blond hair and an easy smile always seem to set the rest of the Avengers at ease, as if it’s skin and hair color that make a person good. 

Wanda — with her dark eyes lit from within and her hellish tendrils of magic — stands no chance when compared to a woman who radiates iridescent power like something avenging and divine. No — the Scarlet Witch is made of nightmares, and she has been since long before Hydra. The only ones who have looked at her with anything other than trepidation or terror or disdain were her adopted parents, and Pietro, and Vis.

And now, perhaps Rocket. 

Yes, she’d made the captain of the Guardians of the Galaxy nervous — she can tell. But that was a fear she’d earned — a result of her less-than-noble confession. If Rocket had been anxious in that last hour on the road, it hadn’t been because of who she is. 

Or what she is. 

She sighs, and leans out into the breeze.

“Don’t go making any magic cities out there, now.”

She half-turns, casting a look over her shoulder. He’s sauntering up beside her, scrabbling up onto the desk chair next to the window to peer out over the sweep of the midnight city, studding the valley like a jewelry-box full of diamond strands. From this angle, she can see the lights catching and flickering in his eyeshine, turning them into flat red coins and then back again. She feels one brow arch.

“We’re making jokes about it now?”

He shrugs, peering down into the spangled mountainside. “What’s the alternative?” A sideways smirk. “I blow you up?”

She snorts. “You could try.”

His grin widens. 

Well, his fear has apparently been short-lived. Something about that feels like a quiet reassurance — a flicker of candleflame in the winter solstice of her life.

“You’re not worried about me turning myself into a monster?” she asks anyway. She’s trying to make it sound light, but the words are laced with bitterness and salt.

He shrugs. “Not yet.” He raises his own brow and slants her a calculated glance. “Hopefully not ever.”

She keeps her eyes on the city, unwilling to spare him her own stare. 

“Where’d you, uh, get your powers anyway?” he asks after a moment. The words ripple in the cool night air. “Lab or infinity stone?”

She huffs a soft, almost-laugh. “How do you know I wasn’t born with them?”

“What, like Dazzler?” he asks doubtfully. 

She tears her eyes from the valley now, brow creased. “You know Dazzler?” 

He shrugs. “Sure. She sings, doesn’t she? Wouldn’t mind getting some of her stuff on the zune, actually.”

An incredulous chuckle bursts in the back of her throat like a ripe cherry. “Not like Dazzler,” she concedes. “Dazzler has a genetic condition—”

“That makes her cool as hell,” Rocket supplements, and Wanda offers an acquiescing half-shrug laced up with a half-smile.

“That makes her cool as hell,” she concedes. “I was born with — something else. And then, I think—” she pauses, feeling the crease form between her brow. “Well. Whatever it was, it was enhanced, I guess.”

“Lab then,” Rocket says, and sighs. “How come so many of you Terran-types can walk into labs and say, hey, fuck me up, with no frickin’ regard to your own lives and bodies? And then you come out with cool powers and super-strength and shit?” He scowls down at the city and his next words are so low under his breath that she almost doesn’t hear them. “Need a t-shirt that says, all I got was chronic pain and indigestion.”

She could leave it. Pretend she hadn’t heard him, which is probably what he’d intended. But for whatever reason, his sarcasm always seems to pull out these bite-sized heart-to-hearts from her. “Anxiety and depression.”

He blinks up at her, nonplussed. “What?”

“My t-shirt. I got experimented on! And all I got was anxiety and depression.”

He holds her eyes, his own rounding out, then flicking away. “Yeah, well. You say yaro root, I say yaro fruit.”

She lets the moment slide through her fingers, lingering and bittersweet over the star-spattered valley. “Besides,” she says, and she’s surprised to hear a thread of humor weaving together her own words, “I’m special. I was made by an infinity stone and in a lab.” She feels the corner of her mouth twist. She hadn’t been going to admit it, but why not? Who else would she ever tell, now that Vis is gone? “Labs, actually. I think.”

His ears flicker. “Plural? Wait, how’d that happen?”

The twist turns into a quiet smirk. When was the last time she’d smirked? “Which one?”

He furrows his brow. “The first. No, the most recent. Both.”

She braces her forearms on the window sill and leans out further, letting the wind whisk her words away: keeping them as short-lived as a luna moth. Maybe shorter. There’s safety in the brevity of the words, in how transparent and transitory they seem when they’re caught up and spiraled in the shadowed mountain-breeze. 

“I remember the second one best. I was older, and — foolish. And fixated on revenge for the loss of my parents.” She gives him a sideways look. “The horrors of the universe, you know. Pietro and I had been orphaned and adopted, only to be orphaned again. I joined a — well, I joined the bad guys, I guess, and I let them experiment on me with the mind stone. It was before anyone really knew what the mind stone was. At the time, I thought it gave me my powers, but now…” She hesitates.

Rocket stares at her, then scowls. “I meant what I said earlier. What is with you morons walkin’ into labs like that? Sure, I don’t know what this glowing rock is. Hit me with it,”  he mimicks — but there’s something half-shrill underneath his voice, clenched into the back of his teeth. She wonders if it’s concern, just a decade or two too late. “You know, I kinda liked Banner at first. He seemed like a genius-idiot, and — you know—” He holds up two fingers, a scant half-inch apart. “—tiny little temper problem. Kinda like me. But he did that to himself?” Rocket clicks his tongue against his teeth. “Thought I liked Steve too, but he just walked into a situation with strangers and said, yeah, gimme this highly-experimental drug and let’s see what frickin’ happens.” He shakes his head. “You morons are reckless. And ungrateful.”

She hums. And she doesn’t deny it. 

“But now, what?”

She blinks and casts him a questioning glance. 

“You said, you thought the stone gave you your powers. But now. But now what?”

She grimaces, dark-cherry brows furrowed. Not a thing slips past him, apparently. “I don’t know,” she admits. “Maybe it was just a dream. But—”

She hesitates, and he waits — surprisingly patient.

She takes a breath. She can already tell the words are going to hollow her out. She tries to say his name so little, because it guts her every time, and because so few of the Avengers seem to want to hear it.

And she has no-one else to listen.

“Vis never had a childhood,” she says at last. “Not a bad one or a good one — just none at all. The idea of it — all the complexities of physical development combined with cognition and learning and vulnerability — it meant so much to him. He thought it was beautiful, and strange. One of the great mysteries of the universe, he said.” The last few words are strangled. She’d opened her mouth and said his name, and it had floated up out of her like a butterfly tethered to ghostly memories she’d tried to keep down. Ribbons and bows in the tail of a haunted kite. Each word starts to drift up and out of her and she just knows, if she doesn’t choke them back, they’ll keep rising. And while she’s happy to sacrifice the words of her own past to the nightsky, every bit of Vis is too precious and rare to let them slip away into midnight mountain breezes.

“He’d always ask about mine,” she finishes abruptly, shrugging. The words quietly click the whole story closed. “The more he asked, the more I think I remembered.” 

Of course, Rocket doesn’t let anything rest, she’s learning. Not unless it suits him. He squints one gleaming red eye up at her. 

“What’d you remember?”

She looks out on the sea of tiny lights, like fireflies and gemstones and stars. Over seventy-three thousand little lives, all cradled in the palms of a single mountain range on an unremarkable little planet the midst of a galaxy and universe far wider than she can ever really know.

“I think it was another lab,” she says quietly. “One in the mountains. Not like these mountains — more severe. Cliffs and crags. It felt….haunted.” She takes a steadying breath. “I think there was a man — cold. Casually cruel. He would be silhouetted against these vaulted glass windows overlooking a sheer drop, staring down at me and Pietro. I could feel his disdain — even as a child.” She hesitates. “Sometimes he would hold my head in his hands and stare into my eyes like he was trying to see into my brain. I remember having nightmares after we were adopted. I would dream that he carved into my skull while I was sleeping, to try to find where I kept it.” She shivers. “The magic.”

She can feel Rocket shuttering closed next to her, and she supposes she’s already said too much. Made things uncomfortable between them — been too vulnerable. These intimate little exchanges are never supposed to last more than a handful of sentences, but here she is: spilling them out onto Missoula, as personal and quiet as if she were on a midnight walk with Vis, or curled up beside Pietro in their dark orphanage bed.

But then Rocket sighs beside her, and even in her periphery, she can see his stiff shoulders loosen. He wedges his own forearms against the sill, mimicking her posture as he leans out over Missoula too. She turns her head slowly to look at him, and the breeze that has been playing with her hair now ruffles his fur, too.

“I knew a guy like that once,” he says roughly. “I knew a guy — too much like that.”

She inhales, more slowly than she has since long before she’d ever heard of Thanos. She thinks she can remember the last time she took in air like this: the morning before the Black Order had found them in the streets. She’d stretched against the faded sheets of the bed she’d shared with Vis, and everything had come easy — even her breath. 

She exhales — just as slow.

“I don’t trust my memory,” she admits. “I was a child. Maybe I made it all up.”

Rocket grunts. “Don’t sound like something little humie gargoyles just make up.”

She huffs a laugh. “Maybe not, but my adult-mind says he can’t possibly be real,” she tells him quietly. “My memories make him into too much of a… a ghost story. Too much of a legend, or a monster under the bed. A caricature of what he probably really was.”

Rocket doesn’t look at her, but she can see him raise his eyebrow doubtfully. “Prob’ly we all do that with the things that fucked us up when we were kids,” he concedes grudgingly, and she shifts uncomfortably. How to make Rocket understand? The imposing figure, so severe — the words, so cultured and sophisticated — the surrealism of the mountain, snowy and mist-shrouded, stabbing the sky? It’s too fantastical to be real. She’d told Rocket her secret, perhaps ill-advised dream of a town based on the old TV shows she’d seen her childhood; how can she explain how these shadows of her childhood seem like the other side of the coin? She thinks of the man again, and all she can picture is a caricature of a cartoon villain.

“In my memory, I think he always wore all purple,” she explains. Like a uniform. Wanda shakes her head, frustrated. It’s not clear enough. She inhales again, slow and steady. She exhales again — just as measured. When she speaks, her voice is hushed, and she can’t keep that old childhood terror from seeping in at the edges. “In my memory, I think he came back one day without a face.”

scarlet witch was one of the high evolutionary’s subjects in the citadel of science at mount wundagore pass it on. look this is a fluffpiece so will anything come of this? not beyond a lil bit of emotional bonding. maybe volume three would play out a bit differently but we're not going that far. still, i couldn't bear to leave this bit in the comics ♡♡

the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip masterlist prev | next [est june 25] | main masterlist

Died laughing reading these.

Have some home made Rocket reaction memes using templates taken from the comics.

I will be making more.

Feel free to use these as you please.

Comics sited - Rocket Raccoon: Grounded (2016) and Guardians of the Galaxy (2020)

Every friend group should include:

A bimbo: Ayesha.

A mean bisexual: Peter Quill.

An even meaner lesbian: Nebula.

She/theys: Gamora.

He/theys: Groot.

A token straight that’s on thin ice: Drax.

An astrology bitch who has everyone’s birth chart memorized: Mantis.

And a short king: Rocket.

I 100% believe that Rocket would look at gun and dirty magazines with the same level of excitement.

Dark, dangerous, and heartbreaking. This chapter might unlock new kinks and destroy you emotionally. Beautifully written, this chapter will haunt your dreams.

꧁･:☁︎⋆. cicatrix .⋆☁︎:･꧂ chapter two. ambedo. [new 3/4] ❤︎❤︎

18+ only | rocket x f!oc | 2/25 | wip | word count: pending.

the monster makes his intentions known. wyndham’s bride proposes an addendum. DARK chapter. see below for warnings & notes.

No matter how she twists and stretches on the floor, she can’t get her hands on the once-raccoon digging his knee into her spine. Anything that might have reached him is batted away easily. Thunder groans, and her captor chuckles behind her. The sound is dark and broken like gravel, and far more dangerous than the storm outside. His claws let go of her ruined chignon for just a second and she scrambles to her knees, still twisted and trapped in silk like a net-tangled butterfly.  He snickers, and his fingers clamp like a vice on her ankle, bruising and prickling even through the diaphanous layers of fabric. He jerks her toward him with such force that she sprawls again, the air slamming out of her lungs as the momentum sends her skidding her back to him and beneath him, dress sliding on the polished wood floor as he hauls her under his wide-spread legs. There’s the renewed skitter of pearls across the floor, and before she can draw a breath, he flips her — easily — onto her back. Her lungs are slammed against the ground, airless all over again. Her ribs strain. “Nuh-uh, pretty pearl.” He laughs down at her, teeth and eyes all bright and sharp in the darkness.  “W-wait,” she tries again, but he’s already dropping to his knees and straddling her torso, knees squeezing in on her ribs so hard that she can feel them creak. He’s so warm, though — a furnace — and heat radiates from his thighs and groin where they press snugly against the underside of her breasts. The part of her that aches for warmth and for touch batters against her weary survival instincts, willing to put up with the pain and the threat of imminent death if it means lying beneath him for the next few minutes. Then she remembers that he needs to leave and she thrashes against him frantically, but it’s too late. His clawed fingers are circling her neck and they tighten, claws sinking in at her nape. His tail lashes behind him: a dark plume, painting the shadows. She flies her fingers to his wrists, trying to peel his grip away even as bright spots swim back into her eyes like little supernovas and moons. Her hips buck beneath him instinctively, wriggling, lips parted and bloody and begging for air. Tears burn in her eyes, streaming into now-loose curls at her temples, and she kicks and tugs helplessly as the hands that shouldn’t be this strong, but are. There’s another skeletal flare of lightning, and she can see him again: narrow, scorching red eyes, teeth bared and gleaming, all scars and wet fur. Metal flashes in the electric light. Horrifying, yes. Not in and of himself, of course — but what it all means. All the pieces that had come together the moment he’d entered the little halo of golden candlelight.  Herbert had kept her in the dark, but now she knows.  Now she knows. And her thudding, panicked heart is broken.

read chapter two. ambedo. on ao3 :･꧂

WARNINGS: arguably one of the darkest chapters. things will get better before the chapter’s end. dubcon (wyndham’s bride is very into it but there’s definitely an argument for coercion here), lots of non-affectionate degradation and name-calling (slut, whore, etc), bad dom/sub dynamics, choking, hair pulling, pussy slapping, spanking, overstimulation. single, brief threat of mutilation. use of claws. continued references to non-sexual child abuse and grooming. animal/pet death. canon-typical violence.

sorry babes, this chapter is mostly a direct pull from the og oneshot. it's also almost twice as long as a normal chapter because i couldn't find a good place to cut it. but i hope you enjoy anyway?? enjoy seems like a weird word but yeah

꧁･:☁︎⋆. masterlist, notes, & moodboard .⋆☁︎ :･꧂

some explicit statements or references ✩ abbreviated explicit sequences ❤︎ detailed/prolonged explicit sequences ❤︎❤︎

OMFG… I have to huff them all irrespective of any dour consequences and likely very personal harm!

rocket smells nice. (headcanon whatever)

in my head, all the rockets i write for (and the ones i don't) have a scent. if you wanna make me real happy lmk your own rocket-smells-like headcanons or give me another rocket to dream up fragrances for. i'm happy to give any rocket (canonical or not) a bouquet

headcanons & imagines masterlist | main masterlist

"canon" rockets ~

eidos-rocket ~ i'm not technically writing for this guy (yet??) but i headcanon he smells like cedar & black pepper (he stole beard oil from some spartoi douche one time but it made his fur so healthy and glossy that he hasn't stopped using it), spiced caramel rum from mantlo's, iron, engine fuel, and gunpowder. burnt everbloom 'cause you know this guy smokes (i imagine it smells gingery).

universe-killer rocket ~ i don't write for this guy yet either, but i think about him way too often. burnt metal and high-iron-content meteorites. something like menthol ~ it activates your cold receptors, like you're breathing in the breeze right off a glacier. star anise & fennel. you'll be tempted to take a deep whiff of his fur but even if he decides not to kill you, you're probably still risking a lungful of toxic vibranium laser dust.

general mcu rocket ~ some kind of evergreen and foresty smell, petrichor maybe; something metallic like iron or copper, and something burnt and smoky. in the earlier years, he always smelled like some kind of cheap alcohol; in later years, a leatherlike smell from his armored-fiber uniform. i don't think this guy reads a lot of paper-books, but he definitely smells like 'em. (i use this as a template for a lot of "my" rockets)

general comics rocket (especially ewing) ~ angargal's limited batch of course (i suspect it smells like a combo of spiced bourbon and rich dark-caramel rum, once the overpowering scent of pure fuckin' alcohol has evaporated out). black-black-black coffee. dark chocolate. amber. vetiver. that burnt, gingery everbloom again.

skottie young's rocket ~ sweet almonds (see cicatrix-rocket's marzipan smell) and banana (from some kind of cousin to nitroglycerin). whatever he's using for jet fuel these days, which doubtless has a hefty dose of benzenes (sweet-smelling and actually intoxicating ~ though since we're talking about a sentient anthropomorphic raccoon i'm gonna go ahead and say the intergalactic space-faring community has figured out how to make 'em non-carcinogenic). you will get some sort of low-grade contact high if you huff his fur like you know you want to. probably also smells like some kind of alien hops, too (maybe acanti blubber ale if he's gotten any good contraband lately, though i imagine that smells like burnt tire).

"my" rockets ~

space pilot & sweatshirt girl ✩°｡⋆ rocket - campfires, strong coffee, and evergreen. amber and smoke. rich dark hot chocolate and yummy bourbon, when he's with you.

blackmail material ✩˚₊‧ ♡ rocket ~ sandalwood, oak, gunpowder. the undertones of some sort of alien citrus-fruit you've seen him eating (something between a plum and an orange), and what you think at first are mulling spices but later you realize it's just where your own Xandaran body oil has rubbed off onto his fur.

window across the galaxy *:･ﾟ✧ rocket ~ blue spruce, fallen leaves, oakmoss, ozone (or maybe that's just electricity). iron and copper, engine fuel.

florescence❀ rocket ~ campfires, wet stone, the peppery-resinous scent of the kind of machine grease he prefers (his own concoction). a faint hit of vanilla-mint-honeysuckle from groot's flowers, and the clove-like spices from your cider.

⭑˚.⚘𖡼𖥧𖤣 windfall 𖤣𖥧𖡼⚘.˚⭑ rocket ~ juniper, blackberry, and something like leather. a sharp and smoky scent, like laser-carved wood. on some occasions, a hint of yaro-root wine (which is basically a peachy hard cider, with a dangerously subtle alcohol flavor).

cicatrix .⋆☁︎ :･꧂ rocket ~ blue spruce, burnt wood, and a strong, rich, buttery-sweet marzipan from the broken-down components of his C4-adjacent explosives. petrichor, labdanum and camphor, and faint whiffs of engine fuel.

headcanons & imagines masterlist | main masterlist banners & dividers by @thecutestgrotto & @saradika-graphics ♡

[During a mission]

Nebula: Quill, what are you wearing?

Quill: Gardening gloves for the heist.

Rocket: You couldn't wear any other pair or gloves?

Quill: Real men wear floral while trespassing

Mantis: I fall in love with others regardless of their gender, appearance, species or personality.

Rocket: That explains why you’re into Nebula.

[A plate is thrown at Rocket, presumably by Nebula]

Read this if you like the following: great writing, literary allusions, sensational descriptions, meticulously, genius levels of art crafted with love, characters with trauma and incredible motivations, also smoking hot and toe-curling sex scenes. There is no better writer in the Rocket fandom- hands down.

꧁･:☁︎⋆. cicatrix .⋆☁︎:･꧂ masterlist

18+ only | rocket x f!oc | 1/25 | wip | word count: pending.

a story about scars. inspired by mary shelley’s frankenstein; or, the modern prometheus. a freakish little monster visits the high evolutionary’s bride on her wedding night. an adventure of intergalactic proportions ensues. aka raccoons make plans; the universe laughs. 

enemies-to-lovers (as per frickin’ usual, only one of these idiots think they’re enemies, and tbh the enemy part is pretty short-lived.) while the beginning of this fic is dark (please check warnings for each chapter), we always get happy endings here. most chapters will contain super-smutty commentary at the very least. this fic is a longform expansion on wyndham; or, the galactic prometheus (day 31) of °˖✧♡kinktober 2023.

much like Window Across the Galaxy ✧*:･ﾟ , this fic is pure wish-fulfillment. i'd like a sexy space raccoon to rail me and then let me be stupid-sweet to him.

WARNINGS - please pay attention to all ao3 warnings/tags for every chapter.

if you’d like to join my fanfiction taglist, please comment or send me a message or ask! ♡

꧁･:☁︎⋆. all chapters collected behind the cut.

chapter one. nemotia. .⋆☁︎ :･꧂ wyndham’s bride lands on counterearth just in time to prepare for her wedding. an unexpected guest arrives. ✩ [est 2/29] warnings: discussion of non-sexual child abuse and grooming. brief mentions of suicidal ideations. animal/pet death. canon-typical violence.

chapter two. ambedo. .⋆☁︎ :･꧂ the monster makes his intentions known. wyndham’s bride proposes an addendum. ❤︎❤︎ [est 3/4] warnings: arguably one of the darkest chapters. things will get better before the chapter’s end. dubcon (wyndham’s bride is very into it but there’s definitely an argument for coercion here), lots of non-affectionate degradation and name-calling (slut, whore, etc), bad dom/sub dynamics, choking, hair pulling, pussy slapping, spanking, overstimulation. single, brief threat of mutilation. use of claws. continued references to non-sexual child abuse and grooming. animal/pet death. canon-typical violence.

chapter three. xeno. .⋆☁︎ :･꧂ a daring escape. ❤︎ [est 3/7] warnings: references to the last chapter’s violence. big regrets. sexual fantasies. cutting (to remove a tracking device). some aftercare.

chapter four. anthrodynia. .⋆☁︎ :･꧂ the monster regrets. ❤︎ [est 3/21] warnings: aftercare. references to chapter two’s violence. regret. sexual fantasies and general horniness.

chapter five. o'erpine. .⋆☁︎ :･꧂a conflict arises. a series of truths come out. ❤︎ [est 4/4] warnings: descriptions of leftover physical pain and references to some of the rough/hate-sex from chapter two, including pussy-slapping. discussion of non-sexual child abuse and controlling behaviors/manipulation. discussion of pet death and intentionally self-inflicted allergic reactions.

chapter six. lockhearted. .⋆☁︎ :･꧂ ✩ [est 4/16] warnings:

chapter seven. starlorn. .⋆☁︎ :･꧂ ✩ [est 4/30] warnings:

chapter eight. .⋆☁︎ :･꧂ ❤︎❤︎ warnings:

chapter nine. .⋆☁︎ :･꧂ ❤︎ warnings:

chapter ten. .⋆☁︎ :･꧂ ❤︎❤︎ warnings:

chapter eleven. .⋆☁︎ :･꧂ warnings:

chapter twelve. .⋆☁︎ :･꧂warnings:

some explicit statements or references ✩ abbreviated explicit sequences ❤︎ detailed/prolonged explicit sequences ❤︎❤︎