#I got these stupid ads for them that were like “this is what the radical left wants...” And it was just like human rights protests

[maditalksmusic]

"WE'RE BIKINI KILL AND WE WANT REVOLUTION!"

is the opening statement of feminist punk band Bikini Kill’s song “Double Dare Ya”, one of their most famous songs challenging girls to always be unabashedly themselves. It’s a line that resonates through every song they’ve ever put out and every show they’ve performed.

Last Sunday, after finishing a horrible calculus assignment, I needed to find something to do with myself before I lashed out at anyone who crossed my path, some sort of way to diffuse my anger at the stupidity of simplifying 42 useless radical inequalities and difference quotients. I saw an Instagram ad for a Bikini Kill show at the Brooklyn Paramount in three hours. I texted every one of my new, cool college Instagram mutuals who I’d maybe met once who I thought may be a fellow Riot Grrrl fan, but nobody could go. I knew going alone was risky, but the ticket was $30. It was too good of a deal to pass up. I went back to my apartment, changed into my plaid skirt and Docs, threw my hair into the coolest claw clip style I could pull off in 5 minutes, and got on the next train to New York City. 

An hour and a half, one face-plant in Penn Station, an out of service Subway line, and a sprint through Manhattan in platforms to the next stop of the D train later, I made it to the venue. It was only 30 minutes before the opener, Sweeping Promises, came on, and I assumed there would be a line out the door. When I just walked right through security without waiting for a single second, I was shocked. I figured I would be squeezing into the middle of that standing-room-only space like a canned sardine, but I waltzed right up to the barricade. Watching people fill in behind me was fascinating. I was under the impression I’d be one of the youngest people there, until I started seeing waves of 13-16 year old girls coming in buzzing with excitement, followed closely by their fathers in vintage punk merch who probably played basement shows every weekend in their late teens and early twenties. 

Kathi Wilcox on bass guitar during "Alien She", shot by me

I started listening to Bikini Kill when I was 13. They were one of the first bands that played “real music” (essentially anything that isn’t top 40 radio pop) that I started listening to. Hearing Kathleen Hanna singing, or more accurately melodically screaming, these songs about everything from feminism to political activism to standing up to sexual harassment over a gorgeously aggressive drum beat from Tobi Vail while Kathi Wilcox shreds on bass, made something in my brain click into place. Suddenly I realized that even at my age, I could be aware of what was going on in the world, and I could start to challenge these issues, even if it was only on a personal scale. Hearing “Double Dare Ya” live, standing five feet from the stage, hearing every girl in the room singing along, feeling the physical energy radiating from all of those people who felt the same, while making eye contact with Kathleen Hanna was possibly the most impactful moment of my life thus far. It’s easy to forget how important it is to let your frustrations out not only by yourself, but in a public space sometimes. In May, Hanna spoke with NPR on the subject. It’s healthy to cope with emotions on your own, but the experience of letting it all out with other people who are right there with you is unparalleled. This public release of anger is one of the things Bikini Kill prioritizes, and it’s highly evident in the electric energy of their shows. 

Throughout the show, the band took moments to reflect on their history, and to appreciate each other, their friends, their inspirations, the people who have supported them, and their fan base. Hanna told stories that have inspired songs and albums, from her experience trying to join church choir as a young girl to the realities of experiencing assault and harassment on the basis of sex to the ways that losing friends too soon has affected her. A moment that particularly stood out was when she spoke on her late friend Mikey, who both she and Tobi Vail had known since they were teenagers. They fondly reminisced on the times they had together, and the shenanigans Mikey often enjoyed causing. Hanna then produced a neon pink fanny pack, and revealed that when Mikey passed five years ago, his mother gave her some of his ashes. This fanny pack goes to every show that Bikini Kill plays and as it turns out, is the vessel for Mikey’s remains. At first, this seemed rather morbid, and was clearly disturbing to some people in the crowd. There were gasps and nervous, shocked laughs around the room. But as Hanna explained why it was that fanny pack, it turned into a heartwarming moment, realizing that this way of honoring Mikey’s legacy, bringing his ashes on tour and keeping him with them not only in spirit but physically, is exactly what would have brought him happiness. This is highly reflective of Bikini Kill’s philosophy as a band and serves as a reminder for why they continue to do what they do. 

Over 30 years since their inception, Bikini Kill has stayed entirely true to their origins. Their sound and the messages they seek to convey haven’t changed since the 90s. Some might claim this is a sort of resistance to change, or a marker of being “behind the times”, but judging by the number of people under the age of 20 at that show, it couldn’t be further from the truth. This July, they made their television debut with a performance of “Rebel Girl”, one of their first songs, on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert. 

Authenticity is the defining characteristic of Bikini Kill. It’s their unbridled authenticity that makes it so powerful for them to play a song written in 1993 as their first televised performance 31 years later, because their style and their messages still ring true. It’s that authenticity that makes the environment of their shows so incredible. As an eighteen year old girl who was alone in New York, I had never felt safer than I did in that ~2500 person crowd. Bikini Kill continues to use their music to create spaces where women, queer people, or anyone else who goes against the status quo can come and be themself with utmost support. This is a band that has always catered to the youth with their punk-rock anthems of rebellion and empowerment, and in today’s political climate with reproductive rights and LGBTQ+ issues being at the top of the ballot, that’s more important than ever. They embody the true punk spirit, entirely unafraid to stand up for themselves and what they believe in, without regard to whether or not it’s deemed “socially acceptable”. Concerts like this are the reminders that all of us need to be the “rebel girl” in our community that refuses to be a bystander to social ills, remains honest to a fault, and is uncompromising in her values. These cathartic spaces are a necessity for everyone, and Bikini Kill’s commitment to ensuring their continued existence and the importance of expressing your anger is what fuels their ongoing success and solidifies their place in music history.

[aita-blorbos]

Hypothetical Question, I think?

AITA for 'mistreating' the characters in my games?

God, I can't believe I'm even writing this. This feels so dumb.

I'm in pretty hot water with the public right now, so I'll keep things as vague as possible. Don't make any assumptions who I am. You are definitely wrong. That guy has better things to do than be here and ask crazy questions.

Ever since I (Adult, m) was little, I've been developing games. I developed them by using a special program, Gameworks, this firm, GF, put out. My first game was a massive success, my second one (a sequel) was met with mixed reviews since many didn't like how radical it was. GF made me an offer to buy the rights and produce a third game.

Who in their right mind would refuse that? Obviously, I took the money. The third came crashed and burned. It was full of bugs and all that. A small part of me died when I saw what they did to the IP. But I couldn't hold onto it forever. I had bigger plans. Why should I care?

Anyway, I hired my chilhood friend C (Adult, f) to help me with game development. We both worked on female characters since she insisted i shouldn't have only male ones. But ever since she created hers, there were these weird bugs in my games...

Anyway, I started a franchise of fighting games (which I don't get nearly enough credit for btw). I bought the rights to one of my favorite characters and obviously added him to the franchise. (gamers were so annoying, constantly whining about how characters were overpowered, underpowered, boring, ugh)

I made a huge game after that, but it flopped on release. I even paid the biggest gaming streamer to play it, but it was all for nothing because C messed with the game! She left bugs in there to intentionally sabotage me! Her ego was just to big to stand in the shadow of my greatness. And since everyone saw everything go to hell live... it bombed.

I had to take the money that was left and make my next game completely on my own again. It was supposed to be my great comeback. But then those modders took my half-finished game and made a mockery of it! So I filed a lot of lawsuits to get them down!

Sorry, I'm rambling. I'll try to keep it brief from here.

I did start another series, a shooter, but the characters were just too old... a breach thankfully corrupted a lot of data.

My Gameworks Assistant has been acting weird since then, telling me I'm in danger. It's weird, but... I've been thinking a lot lately... what if the characters I created... live somehow? It sounds so dumb, but... I think I fucked up with one of my characters especially.

He was the main character of my very first game and based on a younger version of my grandpa. And when my second game ever made got insanely popular... I just wanted to get rid of the game so it made me look like a genius. So I let my Gameworks Assistant delete everything from that game.

I don't know, this all sounds so stupid and crazy, but AITA for mistreating my game characters?

[boblittlepage-blog]

Might As Well Move The Discussion Over Here...

Is this pretty much what you're after, Indy?

Spoiler warning, "top surgery" ain't gonna give you that. Something more like this, if you're lucky...

They're generally a bit more careful with reductions, where they suck out the excess breast tissue, ala' liposuction, and try to keep scarring to a minimum, since it is a cosmetic procedure (just a couple of small scars were the suction bit went in, recovery in a matter of days).

A complete mastectomy, however, is major surgery, and they're not so genteel, where they cut you open and start scraping out everything, requiring the much bigger scars seen above, which also tends to destroy all the nerve endings and mess up the muscles for a good long while. Tough to get much done when you can't move your arms, and you get the added bonus of a helluva lot more pain (not the type you enjoy) and no longer being able to feel your chest, because all those nerve endings got scraped out along with the breast tissue, and probably a few lymph nodes while they were at it. It's not terribly precise.

Indy, I don't care what you call yourself, or how you identify. I've said it over and over again, yes, your tits are way too big for you, puberty was a bitch in that regard, and it makes sense on a number of levels, both physically and psychologically, to reduce them down to something more suitable. Reducing them down to something like the top picture would probably do more for you than another ten years of therapy, maybe even get you to the right headspace where you can finally tackle the really big trauma and actually resolve your issues once and for all. A double radical mastectomy would only pile on yet another massive trauma. And it would be going too far.

So, if advocating for minimal surgical intervention instead of standing by and cheering while you happily walk into the meat grinder and wreck your health makes me some kind of monster...I think that says more of the accusers than it does about me.

Correcting a physical problem is fine, I encourage it. All I'm advising is caution. This is the only body you're gonna get. Don't fuck it up over a personality issue.

That's it, I'm done. The rest is on you. Don't do something stupid and irreversible.

[johannesson]

I shit on Back to the Future II for a loooooooong time

~ The other night I watched the original Back to the Future with my grandmother. It's a popular take on time travel and it was a good movie. I loved it, thought it was funny, exciting, endearing at times. I enjoyed the fifties setting, and the concept of a kid raised in the eighties finding himself a fish out of water in the previous era. I just enjoy seeing the set designs of the old town buildings, costumes, music, and how they contrast with the 'modern' look of Marty. Good popcorn movie, and it didn't overlap with anything I was writing in my novel (it's good to know that your ideas are fresh and not re-used, even on accident). So, the next night, we started watching the sequel. I couldn't even get through it. Cheesy, boring, stupid, and painfully unoriginal. Shit, the first scene of the movie is /exactly the last scene of the first/. Maybe besides the added scenes of Biff, who overstayed his welcome by far. It felt disappointing, did the creative well dry up? It's a textbook example of why sequels should expand on the universe, build characters further, and give us more to look for. Apparently the third movie is also just the original movie but /set in the wild west/. They teased the bad guy in the second movie.

Speaking of that, I wasn't a fan of the dropping hints towards sequels, in all the movies. The gall of something as trashy as Bttf-II out loud contemplating a sequel midway through its horribly long run felt big-headed and presumptuous.

The whole thing felt like a Hollywood-funded AU fanfiction, something I'd read on the old .net on my Kindle tablet. What if BttF was set in the future, not the past? Dark!AU, Future!AU. The mom wears slutty clothes, Marty is kidnapped and brought to his room, Biff is his powerful rich stepdad! Also Dystopia!AU, where crime runs rampant, upper-middle-class wet nightmare about how the world will explode and those punk kids will shoot at us from their trucks.

There were also some weird story elements that just didn't make sense either? Why does Marty's son look exactly like him, but his daughter looks totally different? How does genetics works? The thing about being seen in the DeLorean, having it seen flying, and now it's suddenly a bad thing with consequences? Can you imagine how many people also looked outside of their windows and saw the same thing? Also, if Biff and others remember Marty being in their past, wouldn't they remember his face, too? The sound of his voice? Besides when the plot calls for it.

The use of catchphrases, repeatedly, was grating fast. Just needed to add that. There's so many times I can hear them say the line before it gets annoying. Plus the acting in some places was almost painfully subpar for being really good in the first movie. One-liners, missed lines. I actually winced at the scene where Marty got fired from his job, like man, I thought you were good at this shi Lastly, I do have to say that the attempted changing of common phrases in 'future-talk' was a good little detail, with how many times I consider how phrases and ways we casually talk have changed even over the course of the past ten years, five even. Rizz? Swag? Radical? Awesomesauce? Half these words make little sense outside of context and sound even more ridiculous when you try and look closer at them, so weird slang words made sense. But having seen 2015 myself, not finding it all that impressive really, it kind of made immersion difficult. Aged like milk imo.

It's as frustrating as watching a guy create something so original, cool, fascinating and fun, and then intentionally, laser-focused shooting himself in the foot. Twice.

[aquilamage]

wip wednesday thursday aka the current version of “part 2″ of my human fables vi & leif fic. which is a radically alternate version of the second section aka same start but different universe and different reaction

Leif rolled out of the inn bed and stumbled through the dark toward the bathroom. Groggily, he noted the faint light under the closed door. As he raised a hand to knock, he heard a litany of muttered curses, clearly in Vi’s voice.

He knocked.

A yelp, the sound of something falling. “What?”

Resting his head against the door with a clunk, Leif said, “Does your crisis require you to stay in there?”

“Wha- I’m not- Back off and mind your own business!”

“We would but we have to pee.”

“Ugh!” A lot of shuffling and more cussing later, Vi opened the door, a towel draped over her head and shoulders, and shoved past him.

When he was done, he found her sitting on the edge of her bed, pulling the towel tight around her head as she stared at the door. As soon as he opened it, she tried to dash back in.

But Leif stayed in the doorway, blocking her. “What did you do to your hair?”

“Nothing.” She ducked down to crawl between his legs.

He let Vi, and used the opportunity to yank the towel off her head.

Barely stifling a shriek, she tried to shove him back into the bedroom.

But he just dropped his weight, leaning against her. When she stumbled back, he pulled the door closed behind them.

She’d hastily replaced the towel, and was glaring up at him.

Yeah, he didn’t want to do this either, but something was up, and he couldn’t tell if it was Vi’s natural stubborn reticence about even tiny stuff, or an actual issue. “We can do this the easy way and you talk to me, or the hard way, where I go wake Kabbu up.”

Somehow her glare managed to intensify even more. As they stared each other down, Leif noticed her eyes were red, skin around them a little blotchy.

After long enough that he was about to go for Kabbu, Vi spoke up. “I was cutting my hair and I messed up a little, and I didn’t want you to see because it looks stupid and you’d be joking about it for the next month.” Crossing her arms, she huffed. “There. Now get out.”

A whole month? No, that wasn’t the important part right now. “Why were you cutting your hair in the middle of the night?”

“Hey! I’ve been cutting my own hair since-” She stiffened, then went back to even more shouty. “for a while now. I know what I’m doing!”

The rhetort ‘and yet you managed to mess up on it’ came so easily it almost flowed right from his brain to his tongue before he even knew it had formed. But he stopped himself. That was only going to put her on more of a defensive. “We didn’t mean it like that. Why now?”

Vi narrowed her eyes, but responded. “It was getting long, and I didn’t have the chance to do it the past couple days with camping out, and then we said about getting an early start, so I wanted to get it done while I had a chance.” As she spoke, she became increasingly worked up, until she was flailing her arms as she added, “Why do you even care?”

Because she was his friend. Maybe not to the most common meaning, and certainly not as mushy as Kabbu meant it when he said it, but. She’d stuck with them when it really counted, and despite all of her other talk of seeking a reward for the slightest help, hadn’t spoken a word like that when he’d made his request or since. She’d been supportive, comforting even over the past few days as he processed the revelations about...about his family.

And over those past few days, he and Kabbu had watched her become more withdrawn and irritable the closer they got to the Bee Kingdom. It didn’t seem likely to be a coincidence this was happening the night they’d arrived on the outskirts. She was his friend, and he was going to help her whether she liked it or not.

Leif leaned back against the door. “First of all, we’re extremely nosy. And, despite everything, we do give a shit about you.” The curse got the tiniest huff of amusement out of Vi. Kabbu still had a thing about watching their language around her, but the way Leif figured it, she was seventeen and had been on her own for who knew how long, interacting with some...questionable figures. Besides, he wasn’t using anything she hadn’t already heard Vi use.

Vi didn’t snap about it, but neither did she say anything else, even after he waited.

“Do you feel confident fixing your hair on your own?”

“I’m not going to a hair place,” Vi spat.

So, no. “Well, we’re not going to let you embarrass us by going out looking like a disaster, so something has to get done about it. We don’t know the first thing about this stuff, and if you can’t, we don’t exactly see any other option.” Softening minutely, he added, “We can pay for it.”

Crossing her arms, she hunched into herself. “You don’t have any money.”

Because she wasn’t looking anywhere near his direction, he rolled his eyes. “When we get some, the first thing we do will be paying you back. ...With interest.”

“...Fine.”

---

Only the weakest of light was seeping through the curtains when Vi shook him awake. “Really?” he grumbled, and then had to pull some hair out of his mouth. He thought he’d gotten used to having it long, but it seemed not quite. “Is anything even going to be open yet?” he asked as he sat up, gathering his hair to tie back.

“That’s not the point.” She’d already gotten dressed – shoes and bag included – hood pulled forward to conceal her hair. She poked him in the side and said in the same whisper-hiss, “The point is to get out of here before Kabbu wakes up. Come on.”

He sighed deeply. He supposed this was just the price he had to pay (besides the literal one) to get her to do this. Didn’t mean he had to like it.

They stayed just long enough for him to dress and write Kabbu a note, and then they were out. They made a stop in the inn’s breakfast area. Leif took a couple pieces of fruit and one of the plastic-wrapped pastries. He’d still be hungry after that, but it would at least be enough to hold him over for a real food place. Vi, on the other hand, indiscriminately filled her pockets with the prepackaged foods. Leif knew she had a lot, but watching how much she could tuck away without it then being noticeable from the outside was something else.

Fortunately they managed to find a hair place that opened early. “We trust you can handle the actual appointment on your own?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled, crossing her arms. “I’m not a baby.”

Well that was good enough for him. Leif plopped down on a seat in the waiting area and proceeded to zone out.

“...Ma’am?” a hairdresser called, a bit of an edge to her voice as she stepped in front of him.

Even when she then made eye contact, it took Leif a second to realize she was talking to him. And then another few seconds to react. It would be easy enough to correct her, and simply talking would likely have that effect. But on the off chance it didn’t convince her...Leif really didn’t want to have that conversation. “Uh, sorry. We didn’t realize you were talking to us.”

“That’s alright,” she said, a little too brightly. “If you could just come over here for a moment though, ma’am.”

Hm. He wasn’t used to being called by the wrong gender in this direction, which got rid of most of the usual discomfort until it was kinda funny. “You’re done already? Impressive,” he said, following her toward the counter.

“Mm, not quite.” And now her irritation showed itself more plainly. “I need to make sure you’re aware of what your daughter’s asking to have done with her hair.”

“Our-?” He followed her gaze over to Vi, sitting in a chair with her arms crossed under the cape, glaring. Did he really look old enough to be Vi’s mother? Even with her tendency to be mistaken for several years younger than she actually was, it still felt a bit improbable. “What do you mean?”

She picked up a section of Vi’s hair, either oblivious to or uncaring of Vi’s narrowing her eyes even more. “Well, I’d salvaged the absolute worst of it, and was explaining how I was going to trim everything around just enough to take off the split ends, and maybe about half an inch more,” she moved her fingers to a spot indicating where that would be (a little below her chin), “and then she asked me to cut it drastically shorter. As in, barely an inch or two in length.” She watched Leif, obviously waiting for a reply.

“...We don’t understand what the problem is.” He was almost certain he actually did, but he didn’t want to give her that leverage.

The hairdresser barely concealed a sigh. “If I do that, she’ll go into shock. I’ve seen it happen before.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not gonna freak out,” Vi snapped, voice wobbling just a tiny amount. “I want it short.”

And it was at that when another hairdresser leaned into the conversation nearby. “But why? You’ve got such lovely thick hair, darling; it would be a real shame to get rid of it.”

With a little hiss, Vi turned her head violently to the side. Glaring at a spot on the wall away from any of them, her posture went rigid, hands gripping the arms of the chair. She was biting her lip so hard he worried it would start bleeding.

The woman who’d just spoken scoffed, shaking her head. “They do get so moody at that age,” she whispered to Leif, with a syrupy sympathetic undertone, as she turned back to her own chair.

(He’d already been glad his magic wasn’t reactive to his emotions, but now moreso than ever. Trying to pay off those damages would not have been fun.)

“Besides,” said their hairdresser, back to fussing around with Vi’s hair, “if I did go that short she’d end up looking like a boy.” Turning to meet his gaze, she continued, “I’d certainly be concerned about that if she was my daughter.”

Vi inhaled a sharp breath, otherwise still unmoving.

Alright, that was plenty more than enough. “Well, she isn’t,” he said, curtly. And now he pulled a bit of magic up from whatever it was inside him that made it, shy of frost dancing on his fingertips, just enough to lower the temperature. “She’s ours. And as her mother, we think if it doesn’t bother her, it doesn’t bother us. We trust her to judge what she wants done with her own hair. So,” he crossed his arms, continuing to stare her down. “Either you can give her whatever haircut she asks for

or we can leave now and stop wasting everyone’s time.”

To her credit, she didn’t argue any further. She took a deep breath, eyes closed, and then said, with duller cheer than before, “Very well. Although, in that case, I’m going to need a better explanation of what she actually wants.”

Vi flinched. Then she threw an arm over her face and gave the fakest cough he’d ever heard.

“Hold on, let us get you-” He stepped back towards the front desk to grab a box of tissues, taking his time with it.

After Vi was done (he’d watched only out of the corner of his vision) he whispered, “You still want to do this?”

“Yeah,” she said, and there was at least a little fire to it.

He’d planned on sitting back down as the hairdresser asked her what style she wanted, but the pitch of the “uhh…” she let out gave him pause.

“Can you describe it to us?”

She caught his gaze, for a moment, then looked down. “Y-you...remember Bea?”

Leif had to bite back a smile. He’d noticed her stealing glances at the woman when they’d eaten dinner at the Underground Tavern. This explained a lot. “Mmhmm. Exactly like hers?”

“...Uh huh.”

So he went through the process of describing the fade cut, and then, finally, got to plop back down in his chair.

…

… He’d called Vi his daughter.

For an act they’d been forced into, for the purpose of getting something done easier. He knew that. It wasn’t an accurate description of their relationship, although it was closer than a lot of other terms.

No, the ache in his chest had nothing to do with Vi and everything to do with the phrasing itself, the echo of its shape still lingering in his mouth. A taunting reminder of things he’d never get to have, now.

Something tapped his leg right above the ankle, and he looked up.

“I’m done,” Vi said, shoving her hands in her pockets, “including paying, so we can go.”

With a nod, he got up and followed her out.

They were silent as they walked, falling into their usual pattern.

“Sorry if we made that weird,” he said, after a couple blocks.

“It’s fine,” she responded a little too fast, kicking a rock so it skittered halfway across the road. “She started it.” He’d half-expected her to poke fun at him about it, in one way or another, but she just went quiet again.

“Is what she said bothering you?”

“...I mean, yeah. Everybody cares so much about whether I look like a girl, even when I tell them that I don’t.” Tensed harshly, she’d pulled her hood up partway, still gripping the edges.

Leif hesitated. The urge was strong, to ask her further on it, carefully general. But he doubted she would appreciate it, especially at the moment (he wouldn’t have, to make a presumptive comparison. Although whatever she potentially had going on definitely wasn’t the same. Her feelings were far too consistent.) He really needed to find a good quiet moment to tell her and Kabbu, though. For his own sake as well. “That sucks,” he said instead. “…We don’t care.”

Her walking rhythm stuttered, just for a moment. She was too far ahead to see her face.

And then, because they were steps away from the inn, he said, “We bet Kabbu would say the same, if we asked him.”

That got her to spin around. “Don’t you dare,” she hissed, smacking him in the chest with her beemerang.

“We won’t. But you should.”

She looked off, twisting the weapon in her hands. Then, with a huff, she stomped inside.

Kabbu was in their room, awake, dressed, and pacing. When they opened the door, he relaxed considerably.

“Oh good, you’re up. Let’s go get breakfast.”

Vi glared at him. “You ate at the buffet.”

“We want real food.” Draping himself dramatically over her, he whined, “Vi, please, we’re so hungry. If we don’t eat, we won’t make it to lunch.”

“T-there’s no need for that!” Kabbu said, pulling himself back from reaching out as if to catch Leif. “Besides, I wanted to go back to the bakery in town anyway.”

She sighed. “Fine.” Elbowing Leif in the side, she walked over towards the few remaining things she had in the room.

“Oh, you got your hair cut!”

Her hand went to check that yes, her hood had fallen down. Mysteriously. In a way that none of them could prove Leif had anything to do with. (It wasn’t like she could hide it from Kabbu for long anyway.) “Yeah...It was getting in the way.”

“Well, it looks nice on you.”

She glared at Leif, who just returned it with a smug grin. “You’re just saying that to be nice.”

He poked his head back out from the bathroom doorway. “No! It suits you.”

“You don’t think it’s not girly enough?”

Now Kabbu faltered, making her frown. “It’s not- I thought you didn’t like looking feminine?”

Leif snorted, turning it into a cough with questionable success.

And by that, he supposed he meant none, since both Vi and Kabbu turned to glare at him. Focusing his gaze clearly on Vi, he said, “We told you so.”

She threw a pillow in his face.

---

On the way out, Vi adjusted her pace to be even with Leif. For a moment she just kept walking, hands in her pockets; but then, still looking directly ahead, she spoke. “Uh, thanks, by the way.”

“We’d say anytime, but we have zero interest in doing that again.”

She hummed roughly in agreement.

He meant it, but when they passed by a large window, he noticed her pause momentarily to watch her reflection, fingers running over the buzzcut-short portion (he’d already lost track of how many times she’d repeated that motion). Her expression, even quickly guarded and from an angle of watching without being seen, was clear to read. She looked the same way he’d felt when he’d first processed how long his hair had gotten after waking up in Snakemouth.

And that made the whole morning more than worth it.

[a-stitch-in-time-and-space]

ok i agree w/ everything you said about those ladies besides, lwaxana gives s*xual pr*dator vibes and that is why i dont like her.

I can see that reading for sure and all things are subjective. I do strongly disagree, but hey, fandom is a space for that! Super chill.

to go a little more into this though, since it's not really so much about what any of us feel, but more about how we engage with female characters (and I'll use your example of why you don't like her - not to drag you, your dislike is totally fair, she's fictional, she won't mind, but just because it's a single line that kinda puts her in a box. And not a very nice box to be in, that's for sure...)

a little tw for mild references to some of the shadier writings of star trek vis a vis sexual assault and otherwise sexist and/or strange relationship dynamics

okay so you know how Riker has like. two? episodes that're suuuper shady in terms of his treatment of women and the rest of the time it's pretty chill. and he's one of my favourite characters, but I have gotta skip those episodes, because whatever they were trying to do, they Did Not Succeed - and there's a reading of him that incorporates those elements and if you do you've gotta contend with the character being quite probably someone who's assaulted women.

or how Worf at times espouses sexist shit that makes me roll my eyes outta my head and you're either gonna say "I don't fucking like this character" (and again, totally fair, I've seen people who don't Vibe) or you've gotta find a way to make this work for you if you want to explore that character - or both of those things, you can dislike a character and want to write about them

Or some of the weird shit the writers have Geordi do (which, Geordi is my favourite character in TNG, but sometimes ya gotta breathe and go "the writers are fucking dumb, the writers are fucking dumb")

or - the spiritual successor of Geordi, Julian Bashir (my favourite character from DS9 - clearly I have a Type). You've gotta go: This is stupid writing. I can make it work with my own read of the character, but first and foremost The Writing Is Dumb!

Or hell, Q - since we're talking about Lwaxana and I assume her interactions with Picard and Odo, let's not forget to mention Q, both in TNG and on VOY with Janeway - some of the more urgh-inducing scenes between Q and Janeway are, I think, meant to be charming and funny? And I'm a massive QCard shipper here, okay, I actually vibe so hard with him as an alien who doesn't get shit about boundaries (this mostly with Picard, with Janeway I have gone: "Hm. This doesn't feel good" a fair few times).

or how the writers of DS9 had Garak be in a very uncomfortable relationship with Ziyal, who was a teenager, then not a teenager within much too short a span of episodes (and actress changes)

or Quark. Remember the episode in which Quark tries to get Kira's likeness so he can put it in a sex-fantasy roleplay that she did not consent to? or how there are two cold opens where his female employees are told they have to sleep with him to keep their jobs

or like... Neelix (okay, I am not a fan of Neelix anyway, but for people who are fans, there are times when you've gotta wonder what in the heck the writers are thinking - not the character, the writers)

what I'm trying to say with the post I wrote is that this same graciousness isn't offered to female characters - especially female characters of colour, but in the case of Lwaxana

she's older, she's an ongoing female guest star, she's very (sometimes uncomfortably) sexual towards especially Picard and for a short while Odo, before they become really good friends.

she's also in-text several times in positions in which men are trying to control her (the episode where she gets kidnapped, the episode in which the guy who's married her is a misogynist) and she uses or tries to use her "wiles" to escape these situations.

She's really more of a faded beauty who's putting a pressure onto her daughter (in a rare interesting, complex, fraught mother-daughter dynamic that I loooove) and refuses to let go of the past, because (and here we get into my read, but mildly supported by canon) it's the only way she seems to have learned how to be loved and have relevance. She's terrified of letting that go, because where does she go next, without everything that's defined her? which is why her final episode with Odo is actually so powerful to me.

Picard is never threatened by her in-text. He's not massively fond of her (at first, she grows on him... like a mold), he would prefer to avoid her, but he's not in a powerless situation here. She undoubtedly makes him uncomfortable at times in a way that - like some of the above examples have made me go "mmmmokay" but certainly not the worst example of this in the writing.

With Odo I also don't like how some of her interactions with him go in the first episode they're in together. But once they're friends and you see how easily she accepts him ("I can swim" is always going to be one of my favourite little chuckle lines) that no longer applies. He clearly likes her and enjoys her company. There's something incredibly lifelong platonic partners in their easiness with each other.

You can argue in both cases (and argue well) that there are scenes that are kinda sus. But there are lots of scenes that offer you depth of character. She's not one-note. She's got off moments.

Some of these guys (and others - I haven't watched as much TOS and Voyager so I don't want to misrepresent anyone, but I feel sure that Tom Paris has made me squint once or twice + I've not seen Enterprise yet) have whole episodes that make me shudder.

It's really - within this fandom for sure - open how we interpret characters and I'm not saying anyone needs to read Lwaxana like this or change their minds and like her.

The point of the post is not to say you have to like any of these characters. Or even to say you have to engage with them regardless of how you vibe or don't vibe with them. It's just... I have listened to several up-until-then-enjoyable deeply analytical podcasts where at some point one of the (guys... always guys... I'm guessing white) makes a sneering comment completely dismissing their value within the series.

My point is that Lwaxana (since we're on her) has value as a character within the Trek universe. She added something important. She's not everyone's cup of tea, but it's a big series, we're not all guaranteed to like everyone.

and in the original post I used "shrill" and "cringy" on purpose, because those are descriptors I've heard. And they are absolutely rooted in misogynist dismissals of female characters no matter what shape they take (Keiko, Lwaxana, Michael, and Ezri are radically different from each other and yet all easily brushed aside regardless of screentime, personality, show, age, role/job).

I'm not making points about having to engage with or like characters. I'm just saying we need to be aware of how easily we specifically look down our noses at female characters (and specifically female characters of colour - apologies, this was just because we were talking about Lwaxana, but some of the shit I've heard about especially Michael and Keiko have made me want to bang my head against a wall... or other peoples heads against walls... you know, for a nice change)

so how much sympathy or analysis of behaviour is afforded to female characters vs their male peers. What judgements are we making and how do they compare to our readings of their male counterparts?

sidenote: I hate using male and female about star trek, my brain is just like "why anyone gender? why do this? you're in space? there are aliens? y'all can't chill with the binary for two fucking seconds?"

different post

[seasonofthewicth]

candlelit cabin

prompt: Pretend boyfriend/girlfriend for family Christmas party. I took this prompt and ran with it. rowaelin 4.5k

“Rowan, please. Hear me out.”

Aelin positions herself in the doorway to their kitchen with a hand to his chest, blocking his way so he’s forced to hear her out. The cotton of his worn t-shirt is soft against her fingertips and she longs to twist her fingers into the fabric and pull him close. 

Rowan rolls his eyes but brings his hand up to cover hers against his chest. “Go on.”

She grins. She’s known Rowan for long enough now, lived with him for a few years too, to know that she’s going to get her way. 

At first, the shared apartment had been frosty, with them both avoiding the shared spaces when they knew the other was in there. Aelin had moved in with him because she had known him through mutual friends from college, who had verified that he wasn’t a serial killer, and he had a spare room that she needed. 

Now, Rowan Whitethorn is quite possibly her favourite person on earth. 

“You know Aedion just got engaged.” Aelin presses her other hand to his chest, working the puppy-dog eyes to help her case. 

Rowan nods with his eyebrows raised, this isn’t news to him. The announcement card has been pinned to their fridge for a few weeks. “Yeah, so?”

“So, my parents are going to be on me all week about when I’m going to settle down, and in my opinion; it’s Christmas. I’m already bummed enough about being single, I don’t need them constantly bringing it up, but anyway, that’s where you come in.”

For as long as she can remember her parents have hosted Christmas in their cabin in the Staghorns. So much so that she can’t think of the holiday period without thinking of the wooden-walled cabin, with it’s rustic fireplaces and grounds full of pine trees. 

She can almost smell the mulled wine her mum cooks over the stove, the way her fingers would smell of orange for hours after chopping the fruit for her mum to throw in. Some of her best memories are from the cabin, and Lorcan can tease her all he wants, calling her a spoiled princess, but it’s not like she doesn’t know how lucky she is. 

It’s also not like he’s never made use of her generosity when it comes to his anniversaries with Elide. 

Rowan winces at her words and her natural response is to grin up at him where he cringes away, already knowing where she’s going. He can almost read her mind at this point. 

“Rowan Whitethorn, fake-boyfriend-extraordinaire.”

“Aelin, you know I’d do anything for you,” He starts, and Aelin’s heart takes off at the words. 

It’s a well established fact, for everyone apart from him, that she’s in love with her best friend. She’s dealing with it. 

Sharing an apartment with him makes it difficult to ignore how attractive she finds him, in his suit dressed for work and in his pyjamas on lazy Sunday nights. He always looks incredible. 

In the years she’s known him he’s only gotten better looking. From the lanky teenager she met in her first year of college Rowan has matured from a boy to a man. A man Aelin is very attracted to. 

She’s always acknowledged his attractiveness, but since moving into his apartment she has found herself more and more drawn to him. His voice, his smile, the way he makes her a coffee in the morning and leaves sweet treats on the counter for her from the bakery near his office. 

But he’s never hinted he wants anything more from her than friends. Again, she’s dealing with it. 

Rowan is still speaking, and it drags her out of her daze. “But I seriously doubt your parents would believe that I was your boyfriend that you hadn’t told them about.”

Rowan is wrong. So wrong. Evalin and Rhoe have made an endless number of comments about the two of them over the years. Her parents adore Rowan, almost as much as Aelin herself, and so far Aelin has managed to quell their hopes. Taking Rowan as her fake-boyfriend to the cabin is most definitely a bad idea, only adding fuel to her parents’ fire, but she’s desperate. 

“Ro, please.” She’s not above actually begging. She leans further into the hands pressed against his chest and she knows as he bites his lip she’s won. 

“Fine,” He sighs. “But I’m not driving.”

“We can do half each?” She offers and he only rolls his eyes again, but he’s smiling and she leans up to press a peck to his cheek. 

“Thank you,” She says. “I love you, seriously.”

She doesn’t think she’s imagining the blush on his cheeks as he grumbles and uses the back of his hand to wipe her kiss off. 

-- 

“Rowan, take the bed.”

“Aelin, I’m not kicking you out of your own bed in your own house.”

She sighs. They’re at a stalemate. 

They’re standing on opposite sides of the bed, both dressed for bed, and she’s ignoring how good he looks. He’s wearing a pair of soft-looking green flannel pyjama pants and a grey t-shirt. Simple, but it’s really working for him.

“It’s fine, I’ll be fine on the floor. It’s carpet.”

Rowan looks anguished. “No. I don’t see why I can’t take the spare room like I do every time I come here.”

“My parents aren’t stupid. Every time you’ve come here before we’ve just been friends. We need them to believe this.”

She gestures between the two of them. Her parents had greeted them upon their arrival at the cabin. Aelin had managed to persuade Rowan to drive the whole way, she knew she would, and her parents had been waiting on the doorstep when Rowan pulled the car up outside the cabin. 

They had been wearing matching expressions of glee, and Aelin saw Rowan visibly steel himself before stepping out of the car. 

The introduction hadn’t been a big deal, her parents have met Rowan a number of times before, but never as Aelin’s boyfriend. Aelin thinks it went pretty well and that her parents likely don’t doubt their story. She’s again ignoring why that could be. 

Rowan crosses his arms across his broad chest and Aelin forces herself to concentrate.

“They could just think I’m being polite,” He tries to argue and Aelin shoots him an unimpressed look. 

“Here’s a radical idea,” She says. “Why don’t we just share. The bed is easily big enough for the two of us, we’ve shared a bed before.”

Rowan scoffs. “Yeah, when we were both blackout drunk. Do you even remember that night?”

Yes. In great detail. “No, but it will be fine.”

Rowan releases his arms from their place across his chest and Aelin knows she’s won. “Okay.”

Aelin fights her smile. 

“I can still take the floor.” 

Aelin sighs and pulls her side of the duvet back, “Just get in the bed.”

-- 

It is not fine. 

Aelin thinks it’s probably been about half an hour since she got into the bed and she is still staring at the ceiling, wide awake. Rowan’s breathing has been quiet and even for a while, he’s probably fast asleep. 

He’s so close, she can feel his warmth under the covers, but they aren’t touching. It would be so easy to reach her hand across the mattress and trail her fingertips up his arm until her hand was at his shoulder. It would be so easy to roll onto her side, throw her leg over his and rest her head on his chest. 

It would be so easy to kiss him. 

She sighs, frustrated again and feels the mattress shift at her side. 

“Why aren’t you asleep?” Rowan’s on his side now, facing her in the bed, but his eyes are still shut. 

Aelin rolls herself onto her side to face him, she allows herself to catalogue his whole face in the small beam of moonlight slipping in through the curtain. The silver of his eyebrows to the pink of his lips. Even in the darkness she can see the long sweep of his eyelashes and the slight dusting of stubble across his jaw. 

She’s so fucking in love with him.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” She retorts. 

“I can hear you thinking from here.”

Aelin laughs and Rowan’s eyes finally flash open, still so brightly green even in the dark. He grins back at her and she loses herself in the smile a little bit. 

“I’m not thinking about anything,” She says automatically and Rowan just nestles himself deeper into the pillow and waits. She melts at the sight. The vision of him tucked up in bed opposite her looking so relaxed is almost too much. “Okay, maybe I’m just thinking about how to sell this.”

“This?”

“Me and you, you know, deeply in love.”

Rowan huffs a laugh, deliciously deep and sleepy. “I don’t think we’ll have to do that much, what’s the difference between us and a couple anyway?”

Aelin thinks her heart stops beating. She clears her throat to restart it. “What do you mean?”

She hears the rustle of the duvet as he shrugs. “How does any couple differ from friends? Apart from people who are big on PDA, it shouldn’t be very different.”

“I don’t think you have to be big on PDA to act like a couple. Most couples, you know, hug, kiss, do couple-y stuff that’s different from us.”

“Right.” Rowan’s voice is soft in the darkness, and she wishes she could see more of his expression. 

“You probably will have to kiss me at some point this week.” 

Aelin didn’t mean to say that, definitely not, but it’s true. Her parents would think it was at least slightly unusual if Aelin never shared even a peck with her supposed boyfriend over Christmas. 

She hopes it’s dark enough that Rowan can’t see the fire in her cheeks. 

“Oh.”

His response really doesn’t give her a lot to go off. 

“You don’t have to,” She starts. “We could probably get away with it, I’d just tell them-”

“Aelin.” 

Aelin stops speaking. There’s something in his voice that halts her breath in her throat. 

“We should have practiced this,” He says. “We should have discussed this.”

Aelin frowns, somewhat defensive. “I thought you would have known, I mean, you’re coming here to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

Rowan just breathes out a breath she thinks could be a laugh. “I know, I did know that. Now I’m just shitting myself at the thought of kissing you in front of your dad.”

Aelin laughs now, too loudly for the quiet of the night. 

“You can kiss me now if you want to get it out of the way, that way when you have to do it in front of my dad it will be no big deal.”

She’s joking. Or at least she hopes he thinks she is. 

Rowan is silent for a beat too long. 

“Really?” He asks.

Aelin tries to sound nonchalant. “Yeah, you’ll have to get ready to kiss me at some point. Unless I’m too hideous to even consider.”

“Aelin,” Rowan sounds pained. “You’re not hideous.”

“I know, I was joking.” She smiles hoping he can at least see that. “About that anyway.”

“Right. You don’t mind if I kiss you now? For practice.”

“Not at all. Kiss away, Buzzard.” 

If she makes enough jokes she can pretend her heart isn’t pounding in her chest as Rowan shifts closer. 

“Okay,” He says and Aelin’s entire body sets alight. 

He reaches out a hand to cup her cheek and Aelin wants to lean into his touch forever. She needs to remember every moment of this.

She wriggles closer to him, very much aware of the fact that they’re lying in bed together and he’s about to kiss her. 

“You’re absolutely sure about this?” He’s so close to her now that his breath washes across her face as he speaks. 

She wants him to pause, to hold on to let her catalogue every single moment of this but she nods, unable to find the words past the catch in her throat. 

“Okay,” She catches him whisper under his breath, mostly to himself, as she allows her eyes to flutter shut. 

Aelin holds herself almost painfully still as he presses his lips to hers in a feather-light touch. His lips are warm and soft against her own. 

He pulls back far too soon, only a millisecond later, but he doesn’t remove his hand from her cheek as she opens her eyes. 

She can’t find a single word to say, she never wants to leave this moment. Here in this dark room in the silence she wants to kiss him forever. 

Rowan is watching her silently, his eyes flicking up and down her face, from her eyes to her lips and back again. 

“Hi,” She whispers and he smiles. 

“Hi.”

His fingers flex on her cheek and she allows herself to bring a palm up to his shoulder. His eyes flutter shut for a moment. 

“Aelin,” He says, his voice hoarse. 

His eyes snap open, watching her, and he reads something on her face that has him drawing her face back to his. 

This kiss is different from the first. 

The first was tentative and unsure. Testing the waters. 

This kiss is tender and deep. Rowan takes his time with her, starting with a gentle press of his lips against her own before pressing harder against her. His hand shifts down from her face as he kisses her to wrap around her waist and tug her tighter to him. 

Aelin allows the hand on his shoulder to slip up and to slide through the silver strands of his hair. 

Rowan gasps at the touch and she slips her tongue into his mouth. 

He tastes of mint and Aelin wants more. She presses further into him, her breaths coming fast in gasps every time their lips part and return to each other. Rowan rolls onto his back and the arm around her waist pulls her with him. 

She’s half on top of him now, leaning up on an elbow with a leg thrown over his as she kisses him. His free hand comes up to twist through her hair and hold her face to his as he licks into her mouth. The sensation has her toes curling and she presses her hips into his side slightly. 

He lets out a groan and the sound shocks her back to reality. 

Aelin pulls back and takes a second to process the way they’re wrapped up in each other. She can’t help the laugh that escapes her as she presses her face into Rowan’s chest hiding her blush. His chest shakes against her and he’s laughing too as he wraps both of his arms around her in a hug. She feels him press a kiss to the top of her head and she allows herself to rest deeper into his chest. 

“Let’s get some sleep,” He says into her hair. 

-- 

Somehow she manages to drift off, with her hand stretched across the bed towards him. His fingers in the same place brushing against hers. 

Aelin wakes up before him in the morning and untangles herself before he has a chance to wake up and realise the position they’re in again. 

-- 

Aedion and Lysandra arrive in time for dinner and Aelin spends ten minutes in the kitchen with her friend screaming about the ring. She hasn’t seen them since they announced the engagement and she’s happy for the two of them, she really is, and she couldn’t be more excited about the wedding. 

Lysandra however, is far more interested in the story of Aelin and Rowan. 

“How long has this been going on?” Her friend hisses through a whisper. 

“Not long, it started about October.” 

They had arranged their story before they had left their apartment. They could keep the bulk of it pretty generalised, spinning a story about how they had both realised their feelings for each other and things had just progressed from friendship, but they had sorted out dates so not to trip up. 

Aelin shrugs when Lysandra grins, her eyes full of unadulterated glee. 

“And you kept this a secret from me because?” Lysandra demands. 

“I don’t know, it’s new. Don’t make a big deal.” 

“Don’t make a big deal?” Lysandra scoffs. “This is you and Rowan. I have been waiting for this for years.”

“No you haven’t.” Aelin is definitely blushing. 

“I have,” Lysandra nods dramatically. “Aedion too. We’ve discussed it.”

Aelin wants the ground to open up and swallow her. Aelin has been thinking about it for years, but she didn’t realise it had ever crossed anyone else’s mind. She doesn’t dare let herself consider the possibility that it has crossed Rowan’s mind.

“Stop,” is all she manages to say before they’re joined in the kitchen by Aedion and Rowan. Aedion sidles up around Lysandra and presses a kiss to her cheek as he wraps his arms around her waist. Aelin smiles at the display and feels Rowan rest his own hand at her hip. 

His hand is so warm and she leans back into his chest as Aedion and Lysandra smile at them. Rowan’s fingers flex on her hip and she looks up to see him smiling down at her. 

They haven’t discussed their kiss from last night, nor have they kissed again, but it feels good to have him here like this. It feels like it could be real. 

Aelin shakes the thought out of her head as her parents join them in the kitchen. 

Aelin’s mum has her hands pressed over her mouth at the sight of the two pairs. 

“Ah,” She sighs looking as if she could be about to cry. Aelin watches her dad lift a hand to her shoulder as he smiles at Aelin. 

“Look at all of you,” Aelin’s mum says. “Let me get a picture to remember.”

Evalin pulls out her phone and Aelin steps across to settle next to Lysandra and Aedion, still wrapped up in each other. She feels, rather than sees, Rowan follow. 

Evalin lifts the phone, but pauses. “Rowan, get closer to Aelin.” She waves her hand in the air, gesturing for him to step further into the frame. He does, but still pauses at her side. 

“Rowan, son,” Her dad begins with a grin. “It’s alright, you don’t have to be so proper.”

Aelin looks up to him in time to see him cover his wince with a brittle smile. When his eyes flicker down to her it softens and he slides his arm around her waist. It feels too good pressed into him like this, like he could hold her together, like he could hold her forever. 

She lifts her hand to rest it over his own at her side.

The warmth of his hand on her waist has her blood pumping faster, it’s like she’s a teen again. She’s never been so easily flustered by anyone since she was younger. No one has ever made her heart beat like Rowan does, no one has ever electrified her skin at their touch like he does. 

Aelin smiles back up at him, a little lost in his gaze. 

“Beautiful,” Aelin’s mum cries and the photo is taken. 

Aelin shakes herself and ignores her dad’s knowing look. Rowan’s hand is gone from her waist already and she misses it already. 

Inviting him here like this was a mistake. 

-- 

Later she spies her mum’s phone on the side and sneaks onto it to send the photo to herself. Aedion and Lysandra are grinning sweetly at the camera, but the sight of herself and Rowan takes her breath away. 

She’s wrapped up in his arms as he looks down at her. The smiles they wear as she looks up at him are a little dreamy, both too lost in each other to realise the photo is being taken. She’d believe it was real. 

She wishes it was. 

-- 

They don’t talk about the kiss. And beyond brief kisses to her cheek when presents are exchanged, they don’t kiss again. 

Aelin is a little disappointed, and a little silly. Maybe it wasn’t necessary to practice, and she cringes at the memory that she was the one to bring it up to Rowan. He hasn’t acted any different with her though after the kiss, he still smiles softly at her when she enters the room and they’ve managed to sleep next to each other in the bed for the rest of the week without problem. 

Unless you count waking up tangled around each other a problem. Aelin does. 

It’s getting harder and harder to ignore what she feels for Rowan with every morning she wakes up with his arms around her. He’s always quick to roll away from her when he wakes up and realises, she’s trying not to let it bother her. 

She doesn’t know how she’s going to go back to sleeping in separate rooms in their apartment. How she’s going to bear saying goodnight to him and closing her door every night.

Their bags are packed by the door, ready to leave and Rowan is defrosting the car, getting it ready to go, when her mum corners her. 

“It has been wonderful to see you, Fireheart.” 

“Thanks, mum,” Aelin allows herself to be wrapped up in a hug and she squeezes her mum tightly. “It’s always nice to see you and dad.”

“We’ve loved having you here. And Rowan too.” Her mum looks like she could cry again and Aelin buries her wince. It’s going to break her mum’s heart when she has to deliver the news of her and Rowan’s supposed break up in a few weeks. “I’m so happy the two of you finally figured it out.”

“I- um…” Aelin doesn’t have the words to respond to that. “Yeah, me too.”

If only. 

Rowan joins them on the porch now and kisses her mum’s cheek as he bids her his goodbye. He shakes her dad’s hand and the image tears through Aelin’s chest. 

She feels like she’s about to cry, at the image of Rowan here like this with her parents, at the idea that they think it’s all real, at the idea of returning to a life where it isn’t. 

Her dad presses a kiss to her cheek. “Cheer up, Fireheart. We’ll see you both soon I’m sure.”

She nods as she wraps her arms around him. She’s not sure how they’re going to play the break up now, she’s made such a mistake bringing Rowan here. How they’re going to play exes everytime she sees her parents now is too much of a mess for her to deal with. 

“You ready to go?” Rowan asks her, his voice soft and a concerned look in his eye.

Aelin nods, unable to find words, and waves her goodbye to Aedion and Lysandra. 

Rowan is driving again, and it means she can look back to the cabin for as long as she can waving to her family. It also means she can spend a while looking away from Rowan, trying to hold in the tears that threaten to fall. 

-- 

They don’t talk for most of the car ride. Rowan shoots her periodic glances, concern written clearly across his face, but he doesn’t speak other than to ask if she needs to stop for a coffee or a bathroom break. 

Each time she only shakes her head. She just wants to tuck herself up in bed at their home and wallow. 

-- 

Back at their apartment she runs up the stairs before him, calling something about putting the coffee maker on as he grabs the bags. She knows he’s starting to get anxious with her silence, but she still doesn’t have the words. 

She’s fiddling with mugs in their kitchen when he finally corners her, unwilling to let her low mood go unmentioned. Another thing she loves about him. 

“Aelin, what’s wrong?” He asks her, his voice so gentle that it only tugs her heart more. 

“Nothing, I’ll just miss being at the cabin.”

It’s a weak lie, pathetic really, and Rowan sees right through it. He steps around the island to rest in front of her. He takes a deep breath before speaking, a tell-tale sign he’s about to challenge whatever she’s said. 

“You don’t normally feel like this though, what’s different this time?”

Aelin knows he sees the tears in her eyes, and his expression is a mixture of panic and concern. She lets out a wet laugh. 

“What’s different?” She asks. “You don’t feel different now, after last week, pretending to be more than friends? You don’t feel different now that we’re back here?”

Rowan glances away from her and she misses the face he pulls at the words. It isn’t long before he looks back to her and steps even closer. He bites his lip, she knows it means he’s nervous. 

“No, Aelin.” She shuts her eyes. This is going to hurt. “I don’t feel different. I’m still just as in love with you now as I was before.”

Aelin’s mouth drops open as her stomach drops to the floor. 

“You’re in love with me?” She says dumbly. 

“Gods, Aelin. I thought that was obvious.” He’s definitely nervous now, and Aelin’s brain rushes to reassure him. 

She laughs, this is absurd. “You’re in love with me?”

Rowan takes a step back, his open expression shuttering closed. “Yes. I don’t know what else you want me to say.” 

“Rowan,” She breathes and her hand shoots out to stop him moving any further away from her. “Rowan, I love you.”

“What?” 

Aelin laughs, a little hysterical now. “We are such idiots.”

She pulls on his hand, pulling him closer to her and sliding her hand up his chest. There’s a hopeful look in his eyes that wasn’t there before as he smiles down at her. 

She rests her palm against his cheek as he says, “Say it again.”

She smiles, closing her eyes for a second. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” 

Rowan’s smile has never looked as bright as it does now. She wants to kiss him. He seems to be on the same wavelength and cradles her face between his hands. 

“You love me,” He says and leans down to press his lips to hers. 

“I do,” She manages before she melts into the kiss.

-- 

They spend hours in the kitchen, in the living room, in her bedroom professing their love for each other. Aelin thinks this is better than any other present she received this year. 

She can’t wait to be back at the cabin with Rowan next year.

[wordynerdygurl]

Seven Minutes in Heaven

Author’s Note:  Well hello my friends!  Since hitting 1000 Followers in July (WHAT?!  STILL UNBELIEVABLE!!!) I’ve been working on the requests sent in by my amazing troop of readers!  This is another one of those stories which I’m pleased to share.   As always, help my unending need for validation but re-blogging or liking the story!  Also, you can send asks, make your own request, follow me, or be added to my tag-list! Last, @sammy-jo1977 is my beta... and my ride or die home girl!  Thanks lady! Pairing:  Loki x Female Reader, appearances from most of the Avengers

Summary/ Request:  @queenofmischief asked for a story where “Loki and you guys are friends growing up and you realize you like him and try to hide it but somehow at a party or something or another, maybe Seven Minutes in Heaven is involved, it comes out and really hot smut ensues?”

I used some of the ideas you gave me, dear reader, but made it a little more mature, so I sincerely hope you enjoy!

Warnings:  Lots of 80′s references... music, movies, clothes, etc.  References of smut, heavy petting and kissing

ENJOY!

"But, like, I really don't want to go."  Your cellphone, pinned between your ear and shoulder, pushed your earring into the tender flesh behind your lobe.  It probably didn't help that the jewelry in question was a pair of huge hoops, fluorescent in color and hard plastic.

You heard Wanda sigh, "Yea… I know.  It's just, we all are… and you know it'll be worse if you don't show up."

"I really hate it."  Using a sing-song voice didn't change the feelings behind your words.  Going up to the main floor of The Avengers Tower for a theme party was not a thrilling idea.

"I know you do-", pulling open the door between your room and hers, you palmed your phone, frowning at your friend, "-But you look great!"

"Radical… or wicked… or tubular would be more 80's appropriate."  Still, her compliment made you smile.  It really was a great outfit, totally encapsulating the MTV generation's vibe, complete with hot lime colored leg warmers. 

 Your cropped REO Speedwagon t-shirt was cut off at the neck, dripping low enough to expose one whole shoulder, and a wide stripe of the magenta colored tank top underneath.  Having tucked the camisole into your acid washed denim micro miniskirt, you finished the ensemble with a pair of black pumps, and the obligatory scrunchie of cheap yellow satin.  It pulled your hair into a low, side ponytail.

For makeup you'd painted your eye-shadow on, bright turquoise with pink under your brows.  Lipstick in a shimmery rosy hue brought extra attention to your lips.  And you stored your cell phone, lip gloss and keys in your iridescent fanny pack.

Wanda couldn't help giggling at the sight of you and your collection of clashing colors.  For her look tonight she'd dawned a pair of skin tight leggings, an over-sized button down shirt with a stretchy black belt that was about four inches wide.  Ballet flats, teased out hair and stark makeup had Wanda looking like a video vixen.  It was impressive.

"See, you went sexy… and I went silly."  Pouting now, you flopped onto your bed, "Can I just not?"

Sitting down next to you, patting your knee, "You don’t look silly, but you do look like you could be a hair band groupie!  That’s sexy!” Shrugging your shoulders, unconvinced, Wanda added, “Besides, tonight… It may be fun.  And, worse case?  You get blitzed like a teenager on prom night."

"No… that's not the worst case.  Worst case?  He's there."

Sighing, Wanda shook her head, "He does still rub you the wrong way, huh?  And, yes, he may be there… but-" standing, taking you with her, "-it would be a shame to waste all your wicked cool work!"

Hearing her use the dated vernacular made you grin.  She was right.  Tonight could be a blast, if you were able to get out of your head.  Jumping off the bed, unsettling one of those fashionable leg warmers, you hugged your friend tightly.  You could do this.  You wouldn't be alone.  And if Loki was there, he'd just have to get over it.  You weren't going to pay him any attention.

---

"Mr. Loki… can we please go?  We're already stupid late."  

Bending to straighten his red suspenders, Loki smirked at himself, "Greed is good."

Sighing, exasperated and edging into anger, Peter pulled open the front door, "I don't know what that means, but you look… greasy."

"Like I could steal your company in a corporate take over?  Maybe steal your woman too", Loki questioned, excited at the idea.

Crossing his arms over the red puffy vest he had bought specifically for tonight, Peter grunted, "Uh… I… I guess.  I meant more like one of the assholes in Wolf of Wall Street."

God, you had better be there tonight.  Loki was putting a lot of hope on Stark’s little shindig and he wanted to make sure that all of the little details were absolutely perfect, giving him every advantage.  Standing now, slicking back his long dark hair, "That, my young spider friend, is exactly what I am going for… Evil 80′s CEO."

"Great."

Loki heard the frustration in the young man’s voice.  Someday he would understand, Loki thought, turning to the youthful Avenger beside him, "You certainly make a dashing Marty McFly, Peter.  Truly."

"Aw!  Really, Mr. Loki?  Ya mean it?"  That made the Spider Boy preen, popping his collar, and standing a little straighter.

"I do!  Now-" flashing a rakish smile to his reflection as he passed, "-let's get upstairs and see how everyone else is doing!"

---

Everyone else was ready to party.  The last mission, a particularly difficult one, involved Hydra agents banging it out against our heroes along the rough terrain of the polar ice cap.  Draining the physical and emotional resources of everyone, including you and Loki, Tony had planned a little party to kick off a period of rest and relaxation.

As soon as the elevator opened you knew it was going to be an insane night.  Everything was brightly lit.  Paper streamers were strung up haphazardly along the walls and ceiling.  Big plastic buckets of chips and cheese curls were put out on the counter along with a huge punch bowl that reeked of rum and sugary fruit juice.  On the floor in the kitchenette was a garbage can, freezing, full of ice, only the keg tap visible.  A stack of red plastic cups was at the ready.

Someone had ordered pizza.  Well, dozens of pizzas.  The boxes were piled along the table already crammed with pretzel bags and Doritos.  

Steve was being instructed on the basics of Beer Pong and, you decided, definitely being hustled by Sam.  Bucky looked on with curiosity, quietly sneaking closer to the chips and dip, hoping no one would notice.  Rhodey was watching them both through the reflective lenses of his aviator shades, doing a great job of looking like a Top Gun cadet, including the tight jeans and broken-in bomber jacket.  Grinning as he drank down a bottle of beer, Rhodes shouted, "Hey Stank!  Is all of this really necessary?"

"Don't come for me Rhodey!"  Wearing a pair of neon leopard spotted knit pants, a green polo shirt and white sneakers, Tony was clutching a glass bowl filled with little slips of paper to his chest.  No one had managed to figure out what they were or why he held them.  Drinking two beers from his plastic, can holding helmet, Tony would answer only with a slightly slurred, "It's my trashy 80′s party and I do what I want!"

And Tony had thought of everything.  Sounding like a mixed tape pulled from the radio, the tunes didn't let up!  Ratt, Foreigner, Cindi Lauper, Madonna and Tom Petty all took turns blasting through the room.  So many hits from the past pumped through the sound system, getting people on their feet and keeping them there.  You were swinging and swaying along, having a blast, but when Bon Jovi hit the group of Intergalactic Warriors went wild.

Clint, rocking a mullet wig and a vest with no shirt, jumped onto a table making the motions of an air guitar champion.  Singing into a beer bottle like it was his microphone, "Whoooooaaaa we're halfway there…"

Guffawing, you hid behind your Bud Light filled cup, already red cheeked from the non-stop laughing and alcohol in your system.  At some point you had given up Wanda to Vision in a varsity jacket, doing his best jerk-off jock impression, and not quite pulling it off.  It wasn't his fault that he was too polite to put people down in the way of Eighties movie bad guys. Alone, feeling flushed, but happy, you needed a break and some quiet.  Flinging yourself onto the soft sofa, watching the frat house style antics unfold all around, you couldn’t help laughing.  Tony always found a way to knock the group out of their post mission funk.  Sometimes that meant week long Caribbean vacations and sometimes that meant dressing up in retro attire and scream singing with a cold beer in your hands.  Either way, it seemed to bring everyone closer together, and the pictures were certainly worth framing. The couch dipped as someone joined you.  Swiveling, not quite drunk but not quite sober, you couldn’t help the groan that left you.  “Oh.  It’s you.”

Not exactly the response Loki wanted, he was just grateful that you spoke to him at all.  Lately you seemed to flee any room he entered, a hurt and heavy sigh escaping you before you'd make your exit, never looking back.  Loki couldn't understand why.

After all, it had been two months since that night.  The one where he'd stumbled on you, glowing blue in the light of the television set, alone and in the darkness.  You asked him to join you, he had accepted.

The movie was called "Say Anything" and Loki had to admit, as far as romance on film went, this story was very moving.  But that was an unexpected bonus to being so near to you.  Before the credits rolled, you had burrowed against him, snuggled under his arm with your head on his chest.  

Stroking your hair, Loki pressed a kiss to your forehead, thoughtlessly, naturally.  Pushing away, looking up at him through hooded lashes, "You… you kissed me?"

Words failed the silver tongued devil, something he still pondered all these weeks later, so a nod was all you got for a response.  Kneeling, your sleep shirt riding over your thighs, Loki watched your small hand rising to cup his cheek.  Feeling your lips against his own was the beginning of the best night of his life.

And then, nothing.  It was like a switch had been thrown and no matter how many ways he tried to reach out for you, Loki wasn't able to connect.  Not like that night.

So, he was going against his nature tonight.  Joining the group, drinking a bit of his brother's mead, wearing a dated but pristine business suit.  All done in the vain hope that something would shift in his favor.

He had already lost too many nights to memories of you.  Soft, full skin under his broad palms.  The tiny moan you exhaled when Loki’s tongue met your own.  How your wet, willing body accepted him, without question or stipulation.  And in the afterglow, when your head rested in the crook of his neck and your cherry cola scented breath circled him, you let Loki hold you close.

But he buried it all.  Tonight he was the embodiment of all things slick.  Nothing could stick to him; not when he had a goal in mind and this much gel in his hair.  Loki Odinson would be taking you home tonight, come hell or high water. Wolfish, Loki’s grin was wicked, “Yes.  Your dream has come true.”  Sitting back, he crossed his designer suit covered knee at the ankle, exposing socks with little golfers on them.  He let his right arm rest along the back of the sofa, not around you… not yet, but inching closer. “What is that cologne you’re wearing?” “Don’t you like it?  I’m told Drakkar Noir was quite the scent of the 80′s.  I did my research.” Twisting, you looked him over, impressed despite yourself.  The suit was totally of its time.  Black, pinstriped and you were sure the jacket that came with it was draped somewhere safe.  His shirt was shiny but soft and bright, blinding white.  Suspenders of red matched the tie that draped down the center of his chest. With his hair combed straight back and held in place with some kind of product, Loki looked like he was capable of eating a six course lunch at Sardi’s, complete with dirty martinis, then jetting back to the office in time to defraud a corporate spending account.  The kind of executive that blackmails a co-worker with pictures of a mistress.  The kind of douche bag that tries to take over a rec center to build a mall.  In short, an avarice little asshole.  So, why was it so hot? “It’s… overpowering.”, boy, was that an understatement.  Loki’s whole aesthetic was overpowering right now.  And, was he moving closer? His bent knee brushed against your own as he leaned near enough to be heard at a whisper, “You look adorable, you know that?” Scrunching into the corner of the couch, eyeing him suspiciously, “Oh?  Really?” “Really.”, his hand brushed over your exposed shoulder, making you jump at his touch.

Uh uh.  No way.  You would not be so easy to seduce this time around.  Even if those wide hands sent goosebumps growing all over your body, Loki would not charm his way into your panties again.  Not like last time.

It had been spontaneous.  Genuine, at least for you.  And in the moment, it felt like Loki had given you a little piece of himself, a tenderness that no one else ever saw in the far flung Frost Giant.  

Maybe that's why Clint's words hurt so much.  He had told you so casually, holding up a spoonful of Cheerios, "Loki said his last girl was a drag.  Basic bitch?  Is that what the kids say?"

Thinking about it now made your heart hurt.  You had given yourself to someone who thought you were beneath him.  Loki couldn't want you.  You would never be good enough.

But that night haunted you.  His soulful kisses that stole your breath.  The drag of Loki’s hands over the swell of your bottom as you straddled his hips.  His solid chest under your own hands, dark head curved against the couch cushion, but those burning eyes never leaving your face.  “I thought you said I was plain.  Simple.  Boring.”  

Leveling his own words back at him made Loki straighten in his seat.  How could you think that?  Unbalanced, stammering, “Uh… I… I’d never…” “Never expected me to find out?  I believe that.  And, let me tell you this-”  Pushing yourself up with the help of the couch’s arm, you rose on unsteady legs, “-I’m not nearly drunk enough to fall into your arms again.”  Spinning away, you made a dash towards the people in the kitchen, without looking back. Watching you go, Loki could do nothing but stare after your retreating form, flummoxed.

“That was… painful.”

He knew that voice well enough, frustrated, confused and unfit for company, “Go away, Tony.”

“I don’t think I will.  In fact-” sitting down in your empty spot, patting Loki’s knee, “-I’m going to make myself comfortable.  Now, tell Uncle Tony all about it.”

Rolling his eyes, unable to find you in the crowd, Loki risked a sideways glance at his replacement companion.  Was he really going to indulge in this?  Tell his almost friend about you… about your one night together?  Loki raked his hands through the pomade in his hair, growling low, “If you breathe a word of it Tony, I’ll-” Lowering his wrap around sunglasses, peering at Loki, Tony smiled, “Your secret is safe with me.” ---

Thinking less and less about Loki as the night went on should have been a relief but it seemed like the scent of him followed you everywhere.  Unable to get free of him, you busied yourself with drinks, dancing, and munching like you were a kid again.  Anything to keep your mind from wandering.

It's not like the party was boring.  Not at all!  There was plenty to distract you and you let it.  Natasha made you her partner for beer pong and somehow you successfully won against Rhodey and Sam.  

Next, Wanda needed you, which is how you wound up sitting on the bathroom sink listening to her go on about Vision in that wistful, loving way that made your own heart ache.  Being a little drunk, you had to fight the urge to cry because you were lonely and hurting. “I saw you talking to Loki… what was that about?”  She was reapplying ruby red lipstick, studying herself in the mirror, not looking directly at you.  

Wanda's voice cut through your self doubt spiral though, something you were thankful for, and with a casual tone you countered, “He was trying to get something started, I think.” Eyebrows lifting, Wanda’s interested piqued,  “Really?  Loki was hitting on you?” “Yea… I mean, I think so.  Was coming on awfully strong too.  But… he’s been a jerk, right?”  

Wanda cleaned up her eye make-up taking a minute, after washing her hands she looked at you, “I mean, he is here.” “So?” “So, you know he’s not really a joiner.  More of a lone wolf.  In fact, I think this may be the first of these little parties he’s come to.  Maybe he’s changed… grown a bit?  And, honestly, you never asked him about-”

Hopping off the counter, cutting her off, more than a little huffy at her good sense, “No, I didn’t and I don’t plan to.  Loki thinks I’m a bore?  Too basic for him?  Fine.  I have better things to do with my time.” Laying her hand on your shoulder, Wanda stopped you, eyeing you in the mirror once more, “I know his words hurt… but you’re going to have to clear the air eventually.  Especially if we’re all going to work together.”

Shrugging, you offered your friend a small smile.  There was truth in her sentiment, even if your slightly drunken brain rebelled against hearing it, “Yea, you're right… plus-” looking around the small washroom, just to make sure no one could hear the pair of you, “- he looks really hot tonight!”

Giggling, Wanda hugged you close, “I didn’t want to say anything, but… yea he does!” The pair of you were still laughing together, standing at the back of the crowd as Tony turned down the music, announcing, “Gather round children, Uncle Tony needs your attention!”  There were a few groans, mostly from the beer pong table, as apparently Bucky was unhappy about forfeiting his winning match.  Everyone else, in all their high haired glory, were congregating near their host, curious and more than a little drunk.

“Tony, what the hell, man?  You killed the tunes!”, Clint shouted, spilling Bud Light foam as he joined the tightening circle. “Patience, my drunk friend.  You all remember this?”  From the table nearby, Tony picked up his glass bowl, triumphant, “Our Destiny!”

Pepper, sighing with a smile, “So dramatic!” Shaking the bowl in her direction Tony smirked, “Ok smarty, then you pick first.  Go on… Pick!” There were oohs and ahhs from the assembled Avengers.  Rolling her eyes, Pepper reached in, grabbing the first slip her fingers found.  Pulling it free, she grinned, eyeing Tony, “It says ‘Loki’...” Hearing his name, Loki snapped his head up, surprise registering on his face, “Excuse me?” Holding it up for his examination, Pepper waved the slip under the regal nose of the junior Odinson, “See… your name.” “Yes, but why?”

Butting in, Tony snatched the scrap from the hand of his lovely fiance, practically dancing with glee.  Turning to Loki, “Now you, Gordon Gecko, pull a slip.” Aware of all eyes locked on him, Loki reached into the jar, digging around a little more than necessary.  Finally satisfied, the thin paper pinched between his fingers, Loki opened the folded note.  When his fierce gaze met yours, you knew without a doubt.  It was your name he had grabbed. Throwing a thick arm across Loki’s broad shoulders, Tony hugged him close, “Well?  What’s it say?” It all made sense in that moment.  The tacky costumes, flat beer and endless music.  A drunken moment of clarity had descended.  Tony, waving his arms, eating up the crowd’s reactions, heads turning to gauge your response.  Swallowing hard, your hearing failing you, you just faked a smile. You and Loki were going into the closet for Seven Minutes in Heaven. Only there was no way you were going to do that.  Not after what he’d said.  Not after your one night together, right?  But you felt a gentle hand pushing your forward, into the center of your circle of friends and for some reason, your feet followed.  

Refusing didn't enter your mind.  With everyone ogling you and Loki, making a scene would only cause more speculation, something you weren't keen to do.  Instead, you stepped next to Tony, outwardly eager to play along.  

You just shouldn't have dared to look at your proposed make out partner.  Laser focused, Loki’s lusty look hadn’t wavered.  No, the light in those thundering blue eyes was carnal, darker than you had ever seen, matching your own.  Against your better judgement, you wanted Loki, too.

Whatever Tony was saying was a blur, merely sounds, because you were utterly stunned by the nearness of Loki.  The roaring laughs of the rest of the group were drowned out by your pounding heart.  A door opened to a dim room, the pantry maybe?  You didn’t know and in that moment you didn’t really care. 

With a small smile, Loki ducked into the cupboard, lacing his fingers with yours, offering a bit of his strength.  Dragging you inside, your body pinned between a shelf of snacks and the hard body of your frenemy, a whimper of want passed your lips.  Loki still smelled so good and now he was so close.  “Have fun you two!”, Tony’s words were accompanied by the door shutting you and Loki inside, in the dark.  Surrounded by silence, Loki’s sharp pants were the only sound louder than your racing pulse, which was saying something. Afraid to move, afraid of spooking you, Loki struggled to search your stare in the low light.  He had already experienced your angry dismissal of his attention tonight.  It wasn't something he wanted to relive, not when you were so close with sweet and speedy breath, your chest brushing against his own at each exhale.

Lifting a hand, grazing over your uncovered shoulder, Loki's touch was electric.  You moved towards it, towards him, needing more of his energy.  Craving it.

Bold in the dark, you grabbed at Loki’s suspenders, tugging him closer.  Rising on your toes, covering some of the distance between your mouth and his, you pressed a hot kiss to those soft, pink lips.  Under your fluttering fingers Loki shivered, "Darling-"

"Shut up.  I… I don't care."

"But I never…"

"I told you.  I don't care.  Now kiss me like you mean it, because we only have about six more minutes!"

Not needing any more encouragement, Loki found the flare of your hips in the shadows, molding your curves to the rigid planes of his body.  Desperate, needy, you felt his tongue move against your own.  Want, plain and simple, led your own fingers to the collar of Loki’s starched shirt and the tangle of his raven hair. Fisting it, tugging against those luscious locks, you couldn’t seem to get close enough to the tall God sharing your cupboard.  Whining, his name on your lips, you drew Loki tight enough that the press of your breasts was edging towards pain.  Demanding, true to your word, with every pass of Loki’s magical mouth over your own the last few weeks were forgotten. Hungry for more, Loki roughly squeezed the flesh of your ass, grinding you against his wool blend covered crotch.  Stuttering, his arousal was so stiff, for a minute Loki worried about making a mess.  But that feeling was replaced with unbridled ecstasy when your lips found the tender skin below his ear.  

A nip, enough to make Loki hiss, was soon soothed by your sucking on the same spot.  Resting your butt on the nearest shelf, you didn’t have to stand on tip-toe to reach the soft, sweet sections of Loki where you longed to lavish attention.  He took advantage of your new position by sliding a free hand along the swell of your separated thighs.  “I just need to feel you, dove.  I need to know that you want me as much as I want you.”  It was a husky whisper, directly into your ear, and it sent an arc of icy fire to your core.  When his long fingers skimmed over the silky slick of your panties you moaned in unison, bucking into Loki’s touch, lost in the moment. Stepping between your legs, Loki took one of your hands into each of his own, pinning you wide open against the boxes of cereal and granola bars that lined the pantry walls.  Devouring you slowly, Loki kissed along the column of muscles at your throat, across the exposed line of your clavicle.  You could do little more than take his delicious torment as more and more of your sweat dappled skin was serviced by his silver tongue. “Yes… Loki…”, tumbling out of you, just like the night when you first came together, you crooned his name in delight.  Breathless, boneless and broken with need. CLICK!  The sound made you both freeze.  Snapping swiftly, Loki’s head swung towards the door where the bright light and noisy crowd of the party was intruding into your private pantry. “WHOA, WHOA, WHOA!  What do we have here?”  Swinging into the tight space, Tony’s shrewd look took in the scene in seconds, “What were you two doing in here?  It was a very quiet seven minutes!” Straightening to standing, Loki stood, blocking you from sight as you readjusted your clothes.  Smoothing down his tangled strands, sarcasm dripping, “Talking.  Very quietly.”  When he was sure you were decent, Loki offered you his hand, and blinking you stepped back into the wild and raucous party still in full swing.  Tony, flashing a knowing grin your way, nodded, “I hope you didn’t smush the chips!  We still need those!” Giggling, you locked onto Loki’s arm, letting him lead you towards the keg and away from the shouted questions of your friends.  You knew there was no mystery about what happened in those seven minutes.  Hair mused, makeup smudged, lips swollen and shirts twisted, the pair of you were walking neon signs for getting to third base.

Silently Loki poured you a beer, taking a small glass of Asgardian mead for himself, before raising his glass your way.  Returning his gesture, you downed the frothy ale fast, feeling a little parched after your spit swapping time in the hall closet.  Boring into you, his eyes followed each of your movements, searching for a sign of your feelings. Dropping your empty cup on the counter, you turned and jumped onto the marble ledge, feet dangling.  “Loki?” Placing his own glass down gently, Loki took his position between your bent knees, looking down at your darling face, “Yes?” “Did you say those things?  That I was… boring?  Basic?” Shaking his dark waves no, Loki bit into his bottom lip, “Never.  What I said was, my last girl, ages ago, was those things… but my new lady-” tracing along your jaw, tipping your chin his way, “-she is everything I could ever want.”

“Am I… am I your new lady, then?” With a fierce flicker of fire in his eyes, Loki nodded yes this time, “Absolutely.” Leaning into him, arms around his neck, you tugged him down to meet your waiting lips.  “Good.  Good to know.  Because I think I’m going to watch a movie tonight.” “Really?  I recall really enjoying the last one.” “Hmm… me too.”  Sliding off the counter, ducking under Loki’s long arms, you turned back to face him, “My room… say, an hour?”

Snapping his suspenders, smirking, “I’ll be there.”  Watching you skip away made Loki’s pulse pound in anticipation.  Pouring himself another glass of clear liquor, he chuckled, amazed at the change seven minutes had created.  

“You’re welcome.” “Ah!  Yes, many thanks Tony.”  

Leaning against the counter, Tony knocked into Loki’s shoulder, “You’re cute together, Rock of Ages, but don’t make me regret helping you tonight!  Treat her right.”

“Of course.  I... truly, thank you.”, sincerity seeped from Loki at the favor from Tony. “No worries!  No worries!”  Waving away any additional gratitude, Tony looked over the group of half cocked, and totally cocked heroes before him, “Of course the real bitch was getting Pepper to pull your name from the bowl…”

My Marvelous Minxes tag-list:  @queenofmischief @vodka-and-some-sass @just-random-obsessions @brokenthelovely @lots-of-loki @thefallenbibliophilequote @iamverity @iluvsumbucky @unadulteratedwizardlove @wolfsmom1 @procrastinatinglikeabitch @mizfit2 @shxdowofdarkness @nonsensicalobsessions @ahintofkiwistrawberry @jessiejunebug @rorybutnotgilmore @crystalizedcaramel @lokislittlecorner @scrumptious-finicky-illusion @capcapcapsicle @jamielea81 @caffiend-queen @thenatalie @sammy-jo1977 @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @is-it-madness @jenjen8675309 @alexakeyloveloki @poetic-fiasco​

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Emp-ire “The Stupidest Thing.”

Wrote this this morning, thought it was fun. 

Hope you guys enjoy.

“Every damn time.”

“I know.”

“Every damn time.��

“I KNOW!”

…

…

“Is this like your kink or something.”

“Shut up Ramirez, you’re hardly one to talk.”

“Perhaps I am, but don’t you find it just a little bit weird that every other weekend you seem to get kidnapped by someone. I swear it's going to turn out you are a lot less vanilla than I thought you were and getting kidnapped is like your kink or something.”

Adam sighed deeply, “Getting kidnapped is not my kink.”

…

“I mean if it was, all you had to do was ask.”

“Ramirez.”

“I’m pretty adept at tying knots.”

“Sweet lord in heaven above  save me.”

Below him the horse rocked slowly back and forth. Though he was objectively not off balance, having his hands tied to the saddlehorn certainly made him feel as if he were off balance. Below him Maroz grunted and tossed her head as if she knew something was going on. Ahead of them, the party of bandits, or outlaws or whatever the hell they were laughed and joked together tossing a bottle of whiskey back and forth.

At the head of the column rode their leader a man by the name of Vincint McBride. A man whose graces Adam had not particularly ingratiate himself into, but that tended to happen when you kick a man in the balls with the universe’s most powerful servo operated mechanical prosthetic.

Adam had not gotten off lightly for that. He had a boot shape bruise on his face, a nose that was tender, but luckily not broken, and at least one or two broken ribs. He had certainly taken a beating from this group of men and it wasn’t likely to be his last.

“I blame you.” He muttered

Ramirez looked affronted, “how is this my fault. If it were up to me we would still be back in town wooing barmen and barmaids and drinking too much. It was YOU that decided to come out here in the first place.”

“I seem to recall it was YOU who dragged me on this ‘vacation’.”

Their bickering continued for some time,the two hardly noticing as they dropped down into a small valley, and the line of horses pulled to a stop. 

McBride looked around the little canyon, “We camp here for tonight!” He announced sliding down from his horse, “Someone get those two unloaded.”

Turns out, unloaded meant being dragged and turfed unceremoniously onto the dirt from four or five feet up. Ramirez hit the ground with a grunt, and Adam did the same rolling onto his side groaning and coughing bound hands pressed to his aching ribs.

McBride stared at him in amusement.

“Tie them up.”

His crew did as ordered grabbing them by the arms and legs and binding them fast.

Adam found himself pinned up against some sort of alien tree, a strange yellow grass brushing at the back of his legs

It was in that moment that he remembered the implanted tracking device in his cest, and lit up with excitement for a moment before suddenly realizing….. It only broadcast in moments of extreme distress.

And despite what was happening to them.

He actually hadn’t been in nearly enough distress.

He tried to conjure some up, but it was no use. 

He didn’t feel anything.

McBride leaned forward puffing a swirling ring of smoke into his face from the cigarette dangling from his mouth, “You’ll be worth a pretty penny. Who knows, maybe we can get something for the marine too.”

Behind him his men chuckled.

Adam lifted his head, “Those will kill you, you know.”

McBride took the cigarette from his mouth and contemplated Adam, “Better to live fast and die young rather than die old never having lived at all eh.”

“Not when that dying young comes from lung cancer.”

McBride pursed his lips, reaching up and knocking Adam’s hat back off his head. Adam had to turn his head away from the sun that shone down on them through the bright blue atmosphere. He watched in apprehension as the man pulled a large, wicked looking knife from a sheath at his belt and tapped it against the side of Adam’s face.

“How much did you pay for that eye boy, two thousand, four thousandmaybe. It looks like Tesraki work after all, and I know they run a hard bargain.”

Inside his head, Adam watched as the targeting radicals of his mechanical eye fell over the man’s face.

“Its a pice of junk.” he lied

The man laughed, “Admiral Vir, you are a very poor liar.” He leaned in close so that Adam could smell his hot, rancid breath.

“I think, before we sell you back to your master, dog, I might just sell the rest of you for scrap parts.” He tapped the barrel of his gun against Adam’s prosthetic making a hollow metal clattering noise as he did.”

Adam felt his insides tighten up, no, not the leg, the eye he could get a new one but…. But that leg!

He wasn’t entirely sure it was even something someone else could take off him. The Steel eye wasn’t exactly keen on parting from him on most occasions, and he doubted it would take kindly to being removed by these thugs.

The thought made his entire body ache with pain that hadn’t even come yet.

McBride turned his head to look over at Ramirez, who was tied to the next closest tree, “And how about your friend over here, does he have any spare parts I should know about.”

Ramirez lifted his head in some measure of defiance.

“I have a couple spare parts I think you might be interested in….”

The sinister smile with which Ramirez gave the group of men made it pretty clear that while he was making a euphemism, his true meaning was going to be far more sinister.

McBride snorted, “Not likely. I’m not interested in ‘your’ spare parts.”

Ramirez tilted his head, “Really because it looks to me like you could use a spare pair of balls.”

The men in the circle snarled, and McBride raised  hand.

“Don’t test me, marine, or I might just have to borrow yours.” He flipped the knife between his fingers and Ramirez went silent, though he kept a defiant eye trained on McBride.

The man looked at him with his head tilted to the side, peering out from under the brim of his black and red hat. The collar of his white shirt flickered somewhat in the wind that rolled down through the valley.

“While I appreciate your little banter, boys. It's time I get to collecting on my ransum,” 

He turned to look at his group raising his voice to shout, “Get settled in. We camp here tonight and then meet with our fence tomorrow morning. He might be able to help us sell this one off before the train, now. Get to WORK!”

Adam turned his head to glance over at Ramirez as the group of men and women broke into a sort of frenzy, setting up camp. On occasion, a few of them would come by just to throw a jibe at Adam or Ramirez waving guns or knives in their faces and threatening horrible horrible things upon them. Adam didn’t let them know that the threats were sort of getting to him. Granted this wasn't his first time around the block when it came to getting kidnapped.

This was, however, one of his first times getting kidnapped by another human.

And if there was anything he knew after years working with aliens.

It was that humans were far scarier than any alien.

The sky turned purple as the sun began to set, and as he sat there by the tree and watched the light fade and the shadows grow long, he couldn’t help but wonder what Sunny was doing. He doubted she had been stupid eough to get herself kidnapped. If it was her in this situation, they probably wouldn't have been kidnapped at all.

He glanced over at McBride strutting around his camp like a Rooster struts around a clutch of hens, that long decorative knife glittering at his belt.

No matter how he came out of this.

McBride wouldn;t be leaving with that knife.

He was going to make sure of it.

***

He was half asleep running footsteps jolted him back to consciousness.

Adam lifted his head in confusion and looked around to see one of McBride’s men skidding down from a nearby hill holding a rifle in one hand as his arms failed wildly to keep his ballance, “Vincent! VINCENT!”

One of the bedrolls on the ground jerked, and the outlaw sat up in bleary confusion, the fire flickering over his half dazed face, “What now!”

“It's the Sheriff! It's the sheriff and his boys. Followedus somehow, and heading right this way. WE HAVE TO GO!”

That got the entire camp on its feet very quickly scrambling for whatever they could grab.

“NO TIME.” the man howled, “They're almost here!” “Grab the prisoners, and LET'S MOVE.” McBride ordered. 

Adam exchanged glances with Ramirez who gave him a wicked little smile.

Adam nodded.

Two men ran forward to untie them, and in their haste became rather sloppy.

Adam watched hungrily as the man dropped to untie his legs from the tree. Adam shifted his pelvis to the side somewhat, and as the last rope came undone, he lashed out with a kick to the chest with devastating consequences. The steel eye prosthetic roared to life and set the man flying back a good two feet before he slammed into the ground gasping, eyes wide and bulging ribs cracked.

Adam fell to the side and rolled, and thorough the ground he could feel the thundering of hooves.

Off to his side Ramirez, without the gift of a powerful prosthetic, did something else.

With the grace and flexibility of a career olympic ice skater, he kicked one of his legs up smashing his foot straight into the chin of the other man, with all the flexibility and grace you wouldn’t expect from someone wearing jeans and cowboy boots.

The effect was much the same as wat Adam had achieved, and he managed to roll to the side and skid down into a low rocky depression.

That is when the gunfire started and they could hear the sound of McBride ad his men shouting to each other.

Ramirez hand managed to get his tied hands out from behind his back and used them to untie Adam’s feet and hands. Adam pulled Ramirz’s hands free and then turned to run back up the hill skidding between rocks and boulders as he bolted towards McBride’s voice. That little bastard was going to pay.

He came up behind one of McBride’s men slamming into him with his shoulder and knocking him to the ground. He grabbed the man’s pistol from his hand and, in a moment of uncharacteristic viciousness, pistol whipped the man across the temple causing him to fall to the ground silent and unconscious.

He could see muzzle flash from up the canyon walls, and kept in cover just in case as he chased after McBride. He could hear the horses going absolutely ballistic just across from him and peeked out from around the side of the boulder only to have to throw himself back as a bullet chunked the rock into shards beside his head, He cursed violently and crawled to the other side of the rock. 

He peered out from behind and shook his head, No wonder these assholes couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn since those of them using handguns insisted on firing with only one hand. Adam wasn’t exactly the sharpshooter of the year, but he had been trained in the force long enough to know you were far more accurate using both hands.

At least that’s what he thought until a moment later when one of his bullets managed to impact the side of another man’s gun, shooting it from his hand. The man looked up at him in wide eyed consternation and awe. Adam just frowned.

He had been aiming for the head, but he guessed that wa going to have to do. Behind him he could hear Ramirez’s whoop of triumph as he managed to get his hands on a gun, and together the two of them joined forces with the sheriff.

“There he goes!”

Ramirez shouted, and Adam followed his pointed finger to McBride who had managed to acquire a horse and was now riding up the canyon. Adam broke into a dead sprint after him. The horses were in disarray, but he managed to find Maroz rearing and screeching at the back of the group.

He reached up his hands to calm the horse, and to his surprise, the beast pulled back, lowering herself to the ground and shaking her head.

He grabbed her reins and hauled himself into the saddle, “Come on, Lets go!” He snapped the reins and squeezed her sides forcing her into a dead gallup after the retreating McBride.His body rocked in the saddle, but he kept his ips loose and his head low and forward as wind whipped past him.

McBride Turned in his saddle and shot off a few rounds, though riding a horse one handed was hardly the best way to take a shot and the bullets sparked off the canyon wall. Adam pulled out his own weapon, and making a sudden decision, he released the reins, drew himself up an fired with both hands.

He nearly fell off his horse, but the effect was a desired one as, for the second time that day, he sent a gun spinning from the hand of his enemy. That too was also accidental, but if he ever told this story he was definitely going to say that it was totally on purpose.

The two of them skidded around the next corner and Maroz was gaining, clearly a far superior horse to the tatty bay that the man had chosen.

Adam didn’t have any rope, and even if he did, he had no idea how to use a lasso. Apparently he had missed that lesson on being a cowboy, and found there to really be only one other option afforded to him.

He drew up alongside the other man’s horse and slipped his feet from the stirrups, bringing himself to a low crouch on the saddle.

He could feel his feet slipping and knew he had to act now, so he launched himself to the side.

Maroz whinnied loudly but kept her feet.

The same could not be said for either Adam or McBride as Adam tackled the other man from the saddle and the two of them went careening towards the ground. It was about halfway down that Adam realised this might not have been such a good idea since this was about the equivalent of pitching oneself out of a car at about 25 miles an hour.

Needless to say they hit the ground hard.

The kind of hard that knocks you into another dimension for a moment. Luckily for him he landed on top of McBride before bouncing off and tumbling into the rocks. It hurt like a sonofabitch but, finally he was able to stagger to his feet. Somewhere in there, he had gone and lost his handgun, leaving both him and Mcbride unarmed as they crawled to their feet winded and limping.

What followed was probably the most uncoordinated fistfight to have ever existed on the history of the planet as the two of them fell over, slipped, wobbled and cursed at teach other.

Hoofbeats were nearing them from behind, and more shouting voices. He thought it was the sheriff, and that is probably what got him into so much trouble…. As the horse barled into him, and he was knocked unconscious for a second time that week.

He woke up next to a fire groaning thinking for a moment that he had been recaptured before a familiar face turned to look on him from above, a familiar mustachioed face and a glittering golden badge.

“Sheriff?”

“That was the right stupidest thing I have ever seen, boy.” The man announced in his drawing country accent.”

Adam sat up with a groan hand on his head,

“The stupidest thing I have ever seen, but probably…. The bravest thing too.” He held out a hand, something glittering in his palm, “here, take this, you earned it.”

He looked up in confusion reaching out to take the shining handgun from the other man’s hand.

“It's McBride’s.”

Looking down he could see the scuff that his own bullet had left on the side of McBride’s gun.

[the-flowerwolf]

"I won't let him hurt you again" Part 3

Jake x fem!Mc

They were found the same day.

Before going to the mine, Mc installed a GPS tracker on her phone and a tracker on the other. So if she had left and not returned to the Motel that night, the second person would have gone to the police and given them her location. That person was Lilly. However, she had difficulty convincing the police to go in search of Mc. So when she finally did, she and a few police officers went to the mine. It also took time to make sure it was safe enough, so they didn't find the missing until late at night.

It was at the same time that the man without a face came to them with a new bag of food, so they caught him red-handed.

The kidnapper turned out to be Hanna's therapist. He tried to convince her of the falsity of old memories in which she saw someone killing poor Jennifer. But when it didn't work out, he prescribed her antidepressants, making Hannah believe that she was really just sick. He didn't want to kill her like the other two girls, because it contradicted his sick beliefs based on an old legend. But he also couldn't let her dig any further, so he kidnapped her when she got too close.

He was arrested.

Some time later, the Duskwood gang threw a party to celebrate the return of Hanna and Mc... And of course, Jake, too. They gathered at the Aurora bar, where Phil had given them the best seat. He was so kind that he even let Cleo and Thomas come along with the others.

"Drinks are on me," he said, winking at Mc.

They all sat down at a large round table, talking loudly and enjoying the fact that the worst was over.

Jake didn't really want to go there. On the one hand, it was an opportunity to make friends that he hadn't had for so long. But on the other... He just wanted to lock himself in his home, with the computer, and feel completely safe. But Mc insisted and even said that the others really wanted to meet him, so he went.

So they all sat together on that beautiful, warm evening and didn't think anything bad. This was after all the kidnapped were released from the hospital, so Hanna and Mc had already told them everything in great detail. And now all the attention was on Jake.

They asked him everything: where he came from and what he likes to do, how he found out that he, Hannah and Lilly are siblings, and so on. And he was willing to answer all the questions, even though he was embarrassed by the amount of attention. MC, who was sitting next to him, was holding Jake's hand. He didn't want to think about the dangers of this relationship, or the fact that the doctor's trial hadn't taken place yet, or that the FBI was looking for him. It was just a good evening and he intended to enjoy it.

Soon the questions to him stopped and the fervor of friends subsided. They had silently accepted Jake into their company and were now talking about other topics.

Soon Phil came over, holding a very beautiful drink.

"For m'lady," he smiled charmingly as he handed a glass to Mc. She looked at him with delight.

"Wow, Phil, it's so pretty. What's that?"

"New recipe. We haven't added it to the menu yet, so you'll be the first to try it."

Jake glared at him and then looked at Mc. Phil had joined them, moving Richy to sit on the other side of Mc, and now they and the rest of the gang were having a nice conversation. Phil was the most active. He spoke loudly and confidently and often people turned to him directly to say something about the topic.

Jessy wasn't much different from her brother. She laughed a lot, chatted incessantly, and people listened attentively, smiling and asking questions.

Hannah made them laugh most of the time. She inserted clever comments everywhere and seemed to be able to keep up a conversation about everything from art to politics.

Mc felt like a fish in water in this company. Of course, she chatted a lot with most of them, but it was as if she had been with the group from the beginning.

Jake often tried to catch the thread of the conversation, to push through it as one might push through a crowd, but in vain. He didn't know anything about the topics they were talking about, and he wasn't sure if anyone was interested in hearing about what he liked. The longer the evening went on, the more alien he felt. He felt like a black sheep and, thanks to his lack of confidence, ignored the moments that refuted it. Instead, he noticed those in which he said something, but for some reason was ignored. Or that the responses to his comments were radically different from those received by his sister. And with each such time, his confidence and cheerfulness evaporated more and more.

He looked at Richy and Lilly. The only other people who didn't talk much and listened a lot. But it didn't seem to bother them at all. Richy was often distracted from the conversation, thinking about something else, and Lilly turned all her attention to her sister, holding her hand and asking if she needed something from time to time. They weren't active participants in the conversation, but they didn't care. They felt comfortable knowing that they were as important a part of the company as anyone else.

Jake didn't feel that way. He wasn't sure they liked him, at least. It was always difficult for him to feel needed by someone. It seemed that the only person who, Jake was absolutely sure, needed him was his mother. But she died a few years ago and Jake was left alone. Until Mc came into his life. To be honest, it took him a very long time to realize that she liked him as a person. And this despite the fact that she often said it directly to him. But he still didn't feel good or interesting enough for her to like him. Especially when Jake saw her interact with the rest of the group. And especially with Jessy. Their communication was more lively and diverse than his and Mc's. Jake blamed himself for that. He often ran away from her as soon as they discussed all the important points about the case, not considering that Mc would be interested in communicating with him on other topics and not wanting to impose. He is used to being the one in the company who always stays behind if there is not enough space on the sidewalk.

But this time, Jake had the hope that he could fit in, find those who appreciate him for who he is. And that hope was fading by the minute.

This, of course, was no one's fault. The friends were so engrossed in conversation that they could hardly notice his condition. And they didn't involve him in the conversation, thinking that he was just one of those who is silent a lot.

And well, it is always very difficult to resist your inner fears.

Jake wanted to calm down a little. Without a word, he got up and left the "Aurora", wondering if anyone would notice his absence.

It was warm and fresh outside, but Jake was hot and stuffy. He wanted to go back to his computer, back to the reality where he felt worth something.

Jake decided to stand there for a few minutes and then go back to Lilly's place. She insisted for that she, Hannah, MC, and Jake live together for a while.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and flinched. Jake turned quickly. Mс stood next to him, looking worried.

"Are you okay, Jake?" She asked. He turned away.

"I'm fine."

He didn't want to talk about his feelings. Jake knew they were pathetic.

"Talk to me, Jake."

He liked it when Mc called him by his first name. On the other hand, she didn't even know his last. The thought unsettled him even more.

"I'm fine. Just tired." He said, perhaps too sharply. Mc grunted and turned him around to face her, looking into his eyes.

"You're a terrible liar, you know that?" Jake was silent. "Why don't you tell me what happened?"

"Because it's stupid! Please, MC, just leave me. I just want to go home, stay with your friends."

"You wanted to say with our friends."

Jake still said nothing. Mc sensed how much he was straining, knew that he wanted to end this conversation as soon as possible, but she didn't let him. Now that they were face to face, he couldn't just run away from her. And she was going to find out what was bothering him.

"Jake. Please."

Jake was silent, and Mc thought he wouldn't answer her, but then she heard his soft voice say:

"I feel superfluous."

Mc frowned.

"Why?"

"I don't know? Because I'm a fool?"

"Don't talk about yourself like that."

"But if it's true? I just come up with problems from scratch, overthink, and then suffer. Isn't that foolish?!"

Jake clenched his fists and turned away again. He wanted to cry. He hated himself at times like this. He hated that he couldn't resist it. He knew that people they won't reach out to him if he doesn't reach out to them, but it was so difficult every time. He was afraid that they would just reject him.

Being alone is better than being rejected.

Jake felt her arms wrap around his torso and Mc pressed her body against his.

"Whatever you feel, it's not foolish. All your feelings and problems are important. And I care. Always remember that."

Jake started to shake, and tears came out of his eyes. Mc loosened her grip, but only enough to face him. She was still holding Jake to her with one hand while she wiped the tears from his cheeks with the other.

"I'm just a fool."

"No, you are not. You're human. We all have our weaknesses, that's normal. You don't have to shut yourself in. Let me help you."

Jake sniffed.

"Forgive me. I've ruined your evening."

Mc smiled.

"That's not true. You made it better with your presence."

Jake closed his eyes, tears continuing to flow down his chin.

"I feel so alone..."

Mc frowned slightly. She cupped Jake's face in both hands and brought it closer to hers.

"You're not alone. Not anymore." She said. "I won't let anyone hurt you again."

Jake finally unclenched his fists and wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing Mc as hard as he could without hurting her. Mc closed her eyes.

They stood there for who knows how long, holding each other tightly, until at some moment Mc shifted her face a little and gently kissed Jake on the cheek, not far from his lips. He opened his eyes to meet her warm gaze and smiled slightly. Jake slowly lowered his mouth to hers. They kissed. It was a tender and full of love first kiss that they will definitely never forget.

It was one of those kisses where souls are entwined in bliss and hearts are opened to plow, making two lovers one.

And they would have stood there kissing each other for ages if they hadn't heard Richy's cheerful voice.

"There you are, lovebirds!"

Jake and Mc slowly pulled away from each other, but didn't stop hugging.

"Always on time, Richy," Mc said, but without a trace of anger. She looked at her friend and a sparkle shone in her eyes, "Tell the others we'll be right back."

"Whatever you say! Just don't stay here too long, Dan and I wanted to talk to you about something, Jake."

"To me?" Asked Jake, amazed, "About computers?"

"No, of course not!" Richy laughed, "We want to have a bachelor party and we need your opinion! Dan says it's better to go to the bar, but I told him that after that car accident, it's not the best idea..."

"We get it, Richy," Mc giggled. She and Jake were still clinging to each other.

"Oh yes! I'm sorry! Adios!" With a chuckle, he disappeared back into the bar.

Jake and Mc turned back to each other. He could feel peace spreading through his body. The tears stopped long ago.

"So," Mc grinned slyly, "Where were we?"

Jake smiled and kissed her again.

[themonkeycabal]

Wandavision Ep 5 Spoilers

Wherein I watch Wandavision at a stupid hour of the morning because I do not sleep like a regular human being, and sometimes I have things to say.

Previously on Wandavision, we all discovered that Darcy Lewis and Jimmy Woo were the BFFs we never knew we needed and now can't live without. Also Wanda reminded us that she's really scary.

We should be in the 80s now, right? Ahh the 80s. Leg warmers, Aquanet, and MTV.

Baby shenanigans with crying twins. Wanda tries to magic them to sleep and it doesn't work. "Maybe we just need some help." And in pops Agnes without waiting for them to answer the door. As you do in a sitcom hell. She's got a headband and leg warmers on and is on her way to jazzercise. Of course. Is the point of Agnes to really anchor us in a decade? Asking for real. She's very "this is the era, and these are the tropes, let's all play along now."

Vision is very protective of the babies, to such a degree and with such intensity that Agnes literally forgets her line and nervously asks Wanda if she wants her to take that again. Well, then. Agnes very super a lot does not want to be wished to the cornfield. 

The babies stopped crying during the whole "should we do this scene again" interlude. Vision noticed the weirdness and is trying to figure out what's going on, Wanda is trying very hard to pretend everything is normal. Agnes is being super duper bizarre in the background. And suddenly the twins are like three years old. Agnes has given up and got into the liquor. I don't blame her.

Opening credits. Okay, I'm sorry, 'baby' Vision is almost more stupidly funny than I can take. Like … what? I think I want that as my new icon, though. Also the credits are too long. I think they were very proud of their theme song, so we have to hear it all. These are my least favorite so far. Very 80s, but meh.

In the real world, Monica is getting x-rays and giving a report on being yeeted from Wanda World.

Jimmy Woo and Darcy are there to greet her at the end of the exam. "This is Doctor Darcy Lewis." Yes, she is! Still very proud. She's also the doctor of encouraging people to wear pants, shoving a pair at hospital gown-clad Monica. Erik's no-pants phase was very scarring.

The medic comes back and says the medical tests didn't work or something. The medic wants to do x-rays again because the first came back blank and also she's going to have to do another blood draw. Hmm. Monica is still somehow affected by Wanda World? Unclear on how that would work. Some sort of weird witchy radiation-like energy? Monica says 'no' to more needles and also wants to put pants on. Just let the woman have her pants.

Now we're on to a briefing with the acting Director of SWORD whose name I don't remember. He's very "government suit" bland, I have a hard time caring about anything he says. Also, does anybody else pronounce the 'w' in SWORD in their head when they read it? Like I cannot make my brain stop doing that. "s-WUH-ord'.

"Our initial theory had Wanda Maximoff as one of many victims. We now know she is the principle VICTIMIZER!" Settle down there, acting director guy. Why not say 'subject', 'suspect', 'perpetrator', or boring old 'cause of the anomaly". VICTIMIZER! Geez then. I'm going to guess his solution will be a tactical nuke or some such rot.

Jimmy gives background on Wanda.

Acting Director Guy: "The twins were subsequently radicalized, volunteering at Hydra." Jimmy Woo: "That's an oversimplification of events, but yes." I'm giving you heart-eyes Jimmy Woo.

"After unspecified experimentation with the mind stone, Maximoff gained telekinetic and telepathic abilities."

Then a weird aside where the Acting Director — who shall now be known as Acting Director Dick — wants to know if Wanda had a code name or a something, seeming to imply that not having one made her a bad guy?,  and then he points out how the first time she used her powers it was against the Avengers. He totally just ordered a tactical nuke from "overreacting-government-douchebags r us".  I hate this particular character trope, the government heavy who never listens to anybody and is always ready to napalm the suburbs because reasons. It's so tedious.

Jimmy points out that Wanda earned the Avengers trust and then became an Avenger herself, thank you very much. Acting Director Dick doesn't care, he's decided Wanda is a terrorist and he'll turn half of New Jersey into a glass parking lot to get rid of her. Sure am glad he's in charge of some sort of mysterious and powerful agency.

Jimmy Woo is not a fan either, and he walks back over to his new bestie and tells Darcy that while he tries not to speak ill of anybody … Darcy interrupts "then allow me", and she has no trouble saying that Acting Director Dick is, in fact, a dick. That's my girl.

Elsewhere AD Dick is blathering on about how they don't negotiate with terrorists. Well, since Wanda hasn't made any demands, or released a manifesto or anything …. Monica also points out Wanda is not a terrorist. AD Dick twists her report to make Wanda sound as terroristy as he can. I'm bored with him now.

Monica argues with him a bit and say she doesn't believe Wanda World is a premeditated act of aggression. I vote Darcy, Jimmy, and Monica wait until AD Dick is alone, and then they shove him in a locker for the rest of the season. If anybody asks he had to run back to sWUHord for meetings or something, "Darn, you just missed him. I'll tell him you're looking for him. Great. Buh-bye now".

AD Dick needs to make his big jackass point that Wanda is the most terroristy terrorist who ever terroristed, so he shows off footage of Wanda breaking into a SWORD facility to steal back Vision's body. Because that seems terroristy and not at all like some sort of emotional breakdown. As far as I can tell, she just busted open a few doors, but didn't hurt anybody. I think AD Dick doesn't know the meaning of the word terrorist.

And, yes, then she resurrected Vision in an idealized sitcom world in a small city in New Jersey. That's exactly like something a terrorist mastermind would do. Mmmhmm. Is it nice for the people trapped there with them? No, clearly not. Agnes and Herb in particular seem aware and are scared. They need to be rescued and Wanda needs LOADS of therapy. But Director Nuke the Site from Orbit over here isn't going to make anything better. Darcy, sister, shove that asshole into a locker stat.

Jimmy notes that stealing Vision's body is a violation of the Sokovia Accords. And while I appreciate his dedication to maintaining the Accords … well, I mean, look, it's body theft and all. It's not a great look; I absolutely allow that. But you can just sort of stop there. Though, that's very the Sokovia Accords "if this guy dies, his body must go to a shadowy government agency. for safety. yep."

Also Vision had a living will, where he didn't want to be used as a weapon. Sure, okay. Because I'm sure SWORD was just totally not doing anything at all with his body. Nope. Look, I'm totally a SHIELD girl and even I wouldn't necessarily trust SHEILD with that. So, who is SWORD to me? Pfft. I'd give him to Thor or something and ask him to be buried far far away. I'm just saying. I'm supposed to trust Johnny-Come-Lately S-WUH-ORD?

(In my head now is an inter-agency rivalry where SWORD is like "We have rocket ships!" and SHIELD is like "lol, our lead scientist got eaten by a rock and survived on an alien world for like six months". "But rocket ships?" "We've traveled through time a dozen times in the last year alone. We're a bigger chaotic disaster than you can ever hope to be".)

AD Dick undermines his own "SHE'S A TERRORIST!" thesis by saying she acted out of grief. And then he dismisses everybody. "Work the problem!" Uh … whut? Fine? What is the problem? That she's a WILD MURDERY TERRORIST who must be stopped! or a grief stricken woman who stole her technologically advanced boyfriend's body and probably should be talked down? Acting Director Lack of Clarity.

Jimmy wants to know how Wanda could have resurrected Vision without the Mind stone and Darcy wants to know what Vision will do when he figures it out. Fine questions, friends, fine questions. Monica is just like "acting director dick used to be a buddy but now I kind of want to punch him and am very conflicted. oh and wanda kind of freaks me out but also i feel bad for her" only she says all that without words.

Tommy and Billy are now about like 5 or 6 or something. I'm terrible with kids ages. They're up to shenanigans. Oh, they found a lost puppy dog and they're giving him a bath in the sink. It's all super adorable.

Vision wanders in and greets his family all formally and in his human face. He says he has a premonition someone might pop over. He's not a fan of sitcom neighbors either. And there's Agnes now with a dog house. How does she know whether to enter through the front door or the back door?

The dog tries to burn the house down by licking an electrical outlet? so they name him Sparky (harr harr) and Wanda magics him a collar with Agnes right there. Vision's all "wtf darling?" and she points out Agnes didn't even notice when the boys went from babies to five-year olds, she certainly didn't notice the magic collar. Agnes is trying very very hard not to notice anything. Poor Agnes.

Wanda says she's tired of hiding her abilities and Vision is Very Concerned. He's starting to figure things out.

They tell the boys they can't have a dog until they're 10, so the boys grin at each other and age themselves up to 10. That is all very unsettling. Agnes "Let's just hope this dog stays the same size." as she screams internally "save me!"

Real World. Jimmy's hustling back to the science room with coffee for Monica and Darcy. Monica is asking for some sort of wild mobile bunker to help her get back into Wanda World and Darcy's like "well, yes, but also no". But Monica knows an aerospace engineer who'd totally make it for her.  

"I can't guarantee the Hex won't just mind wipe you as you go in." "What's the hex?" "Oh, it's what I'm calling the anomaly because of it's hexagonal shape. It's starting to catch on." Darcy's so proud, but Jimmy's like 'not so much' but he's too polite to say.

Monica's determined to go back in. Jimmy wants to know who the kids are, if they've id'd them or the babies and Monica's all "oh, no, those are legit Wanda's." Darcy says if she can make stuff with her mind, and all the props and whatnot in the Wanda World are real then she's wielding an insane amount of power. Monica is sure she could have taken out Thanos if he hadn't cheated and snapped her. Jimmy thinks Captain Marvel could have done it. Monica very much doesn't want to talk about Captain Marvel.

Monica has an Idea!

Ah, she wants to see her outfit from Wanda World, which is now in the real world. So, is it real matter Wanda created, or is the perception field bleeding over to make them all see that outfit in the real world. That would have been hella awkward if Monica got yeeted out of her clothes.

Monica confirms they're real then steals Jimmy's gun and shoots them. Ahh, she was wearing a kevlar vest when she went into Wanda World, and that changed shape to be her super fly 70s outfit. "Wanda is rewriting reality." Changing things to fit the hex. So they'll send in something that doesn't need to be changed. Um. Sure. Fine. I don't know what that means, or how that would help in this context, but I'm sure I'll find out.

Meanwhile, Vision is at work, and all his coworkers are amazed at the actual computers. Golly shucks. Computers. Hey, so, computers have been around since the 40s. ANYWAY.

"Should we surf the internet?" We're progressing rapidly through the 80s. Oh, lol, Darcy sent an email. And the whole office creepily reads it out loud. Vision is very weirded out. As well he should be. He wipes the computer with his glowy synthezoid powers and then he glowies Norm when Norm tells him 'none of it is real'. Norm wakes up "please help me. what day is it? how long has it been?". Oh dear. Poor Vision. This is all going to go so very badly. Norm gets very freaked out begging Vision to "stop her". Vision resets him.

At the house the boys wonder where dad is, and Wanda tells them it's Monday and he's at work. Except the boys are all "um, no, it's Saturday". Wanda, your house of lies is tumbling down! You shouldn't have let them grow up so fast. Babies don't ask inconvenient questions about why Daddy needs some space from Mommy and her questionable choices for their shared reality.

Wanda takes the opportunity to impart the 80s family sitcom trope of the weekly life lesson about how family might fight, but they still love each other and family is forever. One of the twins asks if she has a brother. She does. He's far away. But, Sparky goes barking at the door. Wanda looks far away herself. She goes to open the door and Sparky runs out.

Monica has sent in a drone from the 80s. Well that wasn't really a thing. But, how does the 1980s rc plane look more high tech than the 2020s drone they sent in first? Talk to your design team, SWORD.

Anyway, Wanda spots the drone, but she's keeping it out of the broadcast, because she's the editor and director and producer of Wandavision, of course.

Monica announces herself and tries to get Wanda to acknowledge her. Whoops. Wanda's eyes go glowy. AD Dick says "take the shot" and Monica's all "what? no, the drone isn't armed." Except of course it is, because AD Dick is a monumental dick, and he's got a backup drone pilot who takes the shot. Wandavision goes off air. And, oh no, there's a breach at the Hex!

Lol. It's Wanda coming through, dragging the mangled corpse of the drone with her. That was entirely deserved, AD Dick. I hope she shoves it up your ass, dick.

"The missile was just a precaution". AD Dick backpedals quick, like a coward. You gave a three second attempt to talk to Wanda before you pulled the trigger, I don't like you. "You can hardly blame us."

Wanda warns him to stay out. "You won't bother me, I won't bother you." Okay, well, he does kind of have a point, in that there's a whole town of people who are stuck as bit players in Wanda World. That's not very nice. I mean, surely she could have found a nice empty spot somewhere and created her sitcom utopia. That's at least a fair criticism.

Monica tries her best to talk Wanda down. It doesn't work particularly well.

"What do you want?" "I have what I want and no one will ever take it from me again." And she mind controls the soldiers training their guns on her, to turn them on AD Dick. Whoops. And Wanda goes back to her world. The Hex glows all red as she goes.

And we go to commercial. Lagos Brand paper towels. "For when you make a mess you didn't mean to." Wow, so that was brutal. Wanda's not mad at you, Monica. She's just carrying a lot of guilt. Ouch.

Back in Wandavision, the boys are looking for their dog. They find Agnes hiding in the bushes with the dog. Poor Sparky apparently ate some azalea leaves and died. The boys are very sad and Wanda warns them not to age up. They can't run from their feelings. Oh Wanda. "It's too sad," Billy says. "You can fix anything mom," Tommy cries, "Fix the dead". Yikes.

Wanda "I'm trying to tell you there are rules in life." Poor Agnes is trying not to have a total meltdown. "We can't reverse death. No matter how sad it makes us. Some things are forever."

Billy and Tommy try to talk her into bringing back Sparky. And Vision turns up. Well, this is just brutal.

Vision is entirely outside of Wanda's control. "I spoke with Norm. I unearthed the man's suppressed personality and I spoke to him free of your oversight." Yikes. "He was in pain, Wanda."

Okay it's kind of funny they're arguing over the end credits. Vision is very very pissed. "I'm scared." Aww.

Wanda insists she's not in charge of every life in Westview. "I don't know how any of this started in the first place." Huh. Is that really true? Because she's pretty sure of it now. Somebody or something convinced her into a sitcom world and now she's just like "yeah, this is good"? really asking.

Ding-dong.

"I didn't do that." 

Vision: *doubt*

DING DONG

Wanda goes to answer the door.

In the real world, alarms are blaring but Darcy notices a new revelation on Wandavision.

Wanda Word — and it's Pietro at the door. See! I knew it had to be Pietro who'd be the surprise guest thingy. I mean it's hilariously X-Men Pietro (Evan Peters, like @lewstonewar suggested), but Pietro nonetheless. There's nobody else it could have been.

Darcy be all WTF? "She recast Pietro?" lol

Okay, Wanda seems legit shocked. I don't think she did that. And I super really don’t think she’d make him sound like a NYC cabbie. 

And end.

Well. I mean, I'm not sure what to think. Wanda insists she's not controlling everything. I don't think she created Pietro. But, she totally stole Vision's body and created the kids and seems mostly happy in her sitcom universe and she can traverse the Hex, which obviously suggests its her doing. Dunno. I have questions about Agnes and her convenient timeliness here and there.

The mystery continues.

Disney wants to know if I want to watch Age of Ultron next. How poorly you know me, Disney.

[rederiswrites]

My Tumblr year in review

(minus the hideous flashing header)

I posted 2,490 times in 2021 (got dam, me)

774 posts created (31%)

1716 posts reblogged (69%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 2.2 posts.

I added 629 tags in 2021

#dragon age - 224 posts

#witcher - 90 posts

#the mandalorian - 56 posts

#this is ridiculous - 56 posts

#red homesteads - 41 posts

#history - 36 posts

#geralt - 34 posts

#succulents - 32 posts

#solas - 31 posts

#chickens - 29 posts

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Next time you go to write a ten year old child, please know that mine just gave me a fairly accurate explanation of fiat versus commodity currencies, in those terms. So for goodness sake, just have them talk like the adults they're around most.

Also I saw a post yesterday that said that children under ten don't understand sarcasm, and I assure you, that is not the case.

16654 notes • Posted 2021-05-23 04:43:52 GMT

#4

When my kids were babies I knew they'd be wearing a lot of hand-me-downs and thrifted stuff, because frankly that's the only sensible way to dress young children. Anything else is gonna cost an arm and a leg for shit they'll outgrow in three months and then you'll spend $50 on some cute set they refuse to wear and it's just pointless angst. My daughter wore hand me downs from the neighbor boys for most of her first year because the ages worked out.

So I made a conscious decision to always frame that positively. Going to the thrift store is awesome because it's like a shopping spree every time, Mama will say yes to nearly anything, which is clearly superior to going to Target and being permitted one cute t-shirt and some socks. Hand me downs are even better because they have a history with people you love. And passing stuff down yourself is maybe the best of all, because then you get to see little cuties wearing things you once enjoyed, and enjoy them all over again.

And that attitude has really taken root in the family and been a very positive thing. I love that my computer is made up of new parts but also hand me downs from not one but two different people, carefully crafted into a whole that's much more than would have been reasonable to spend otherwise. The used parts are still really good, because they came from people who really prioritize their equipment, so they went from "good" to "top of the line" but they knew that "good" was still way better than I had. And the fact that three people collaborated to make something that would suit my needs and optimized their money makes me feel loved by smart people.

So yes, I do know that there's a stigma against buying used stuff, but I invite you to consider: that is stupid and also wrong. Used stuff is great.

20109 notes • Posted 2021-08-24 16:05:50 GMT

#3

It is a painful truth that actually none of my fics are abandoned, no, not even the ones that haven’t updated in five years. I still know exactly what happens next, and after that, and so on. They’re not abandoned; they’re right here, haunting me, characters climbing up my pants like kittens nagging for dinner.

25976 notes • Posted 2021-04-11 02:07:03 GMT

#2

From a friend on FB this morning.

49656 notes • Posted 2021-10-06 17:49:41 GMT

#1

Seriously though like, I missed the boat on this whole radical honesty thing. I guess everyone wants to be true to themselves now? That’s...great...but like you’re really only ever going to meet a select few people you can be totally honest with about everything. Lie to strangers! Lie to authorities! Like damn didn’t you have parents that told you never to tell people on the phone that you were home alone? When the interviewer asks if you ever experimented with drugs, you say no! This is not a therapy session! He’s got no business asking you that anyway! Lots and lots of people are not entitled to your vulnerability. Damn.

75131 notes • Posted 2021-03-05 18:58:26 GMT

Well that's a lot of notes. Also appreciating the fact that there's really no detectable pattern here. You get what you get on this show.

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[moontheoretist]

The show currently on had a bunch of stuffed shirts sitting at a round table. ["...my esteemed colleague, Professor Newell, gives too much credence to the ex-Avengers' education. I simply don't believe they all read and fully comprehended the document they were rejecting. Steve Rogers had a high school diploma and one year of art college."] Steve curled his lip. ["That doesn't mean he's illiterate," Newell, a brown-haired man with glasses, said. The other man, his tight coils of hair salt and pepper gray, raised an eyebrow. "As a lawyer, I'd be the first to say legal documents are needlessly complex, but no lay person can just sit down and read a 1000-page legal agreement and absorb the intricacies with nothing more than a high school education from the 1940s. Not without help." Newell ceded the point with a nod. "And Wanda Maximoff is a street orphan and doesn't even have that. Ditto Clint Barton, who grew up in a traveling circus. The Ant Man has an engineering degree, which makes me think he would have ample education to comprehend the Accords, but he had little time to do it in—only the flight to Germany, and investigators say he was likely shrunk and in Clint Barton's pocket, as there's no evidence of him on the passenger list, but he suddenly appeared at the Leipzig/Halle airport. It's questionable he bothered to shrink the Accords with him or bring the necessary resources to decipher all the legalese."] Scott got up and left the room. Wanda curled up and hugged her knees to her chest. Steve remembered the hasty conversation he'd had with Scott before the battle. Scott had no idea about the Accords back then. He thought they were there to fight over killer assassins. Steve rubbed his forehead. ["That leaves only Sergeant Sam Wilson, a man well-educated by the armed forces. I wondered what made him reject a document that his own government and one hundred and sixteen other countries supported, and then I read up on Lieutenant General Ross' record. Any man who has served in the military and heard of Ross' abuse of his own forces and how he used his own daughter as bait in pursuit of The Hulk would have zero respect for the retired general and Secretary of State. Ross was spearheading the US support of the Accords. Whether or not this influenced Sergeant Wilson's decision to reject them, I cannot say."] "This is bullshit," Clint said, obviously fuming. "I didn't need some stupid diploma to tell me the Accords are a shitty idea." ["You haven't said anything about the Black Widow," the moderator said, shifting his papers around on the big desk. "Ms. Romanov is an interesting case. Raised and educated by the top-secret Soviet training program called the Red Room, the Black Widow supported the Accords at first. She appeared to recognize their necessity, but then during the fight at the airport seemed to run into an issue of allegiance in fighting her friends. Understandable, I think. It's why the Avengers should never have been sent to contain the renegades. But who else could battle that sort of might? "In any event, it appears to be no coincidence that the Avengers who sided with the Accords all have master's degrees or higher." "Or much higher," the mediator said, abandoning neutrality. "Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes as a master's in engineering as well as officer's training, Stark has multiple doctorates, and the Vision is said to have access to the sum of all human knowledge. The King of Wakanda obviously has the finest political education as a leader of his nation, and I understand he is also an engineer." "Nothing is known about the Spider-Man," Newell said. "No, that's true. He'll have to remain an enigma." "But it's your contention that education had something to do with renegades choosing not to support the Accords," the mediator said. "I think it's obvious."] *** ["Hello, all. Thank you for time. "As Mr. Sjöberg mentioned, I recently came into some information regarding The Winter Soldier that I felt was of international importance, especially since he had the protection of some very powerful people. The ICC is just the place to turn when the State is unable or unwilling to carry out an investigation and prosecute the perpetrators."] Steve drew in a shocked breath. ["I found this information at a Hydra bunker in Siberia, where Rogers, Barnes and I had an altercation about whether suppressing this information was cool or not." Stark gave an acid grin. "In the course of this disagreement, Rogers disabled my suit and left me in the Hydra bunker to freeze, unable to radio a rescue team."] Sam sank his head into his hands with a curse. ["However, Rogers' 'leave our teammates behind' policy turned out to be useful, because while searching for a way to communicate with my rescue team, I discovered a trove of records spanning back decades on the Hydra supersoldier program. I looked through all of it, hoping to save it and get retrieved before Hydra returned. "What I discovered was more than enough: movies, photos, and detailed plans to assassinate political heads of state, industrial leaders, diplomats, prominent artists, radical leaders and activists, all of whom were murdered by The Winter Soldier. Included in these documents were the names of the ones who ordered the kills, the criminals behind the deeds. For the last three weeks, with the assistance of the Joint Terrorism Task Force, that's what we've been up to—rounding up the bad guys with a vengeance." The murmurs grew into a roar of approval. "Most of the Hydra operatives still living have been arrested for their complicity in murdering countless important figures who stood against Hydra's core principles of racism and fascism. Despite the unnecessary delay introduced by Rogers, who could have put us onto Barnes and thus the location of the bunker that much sooner, the loved ones and family members of the deceased will at long last know, and hopefully find peace in knowing, just what happened to their loved ones, and why."] Tony's voice trembled on the last part, and Steve felt a pit growing in his stomach that he couldn't shake off. ["My only regret is whom I have to thank for this. The man behind the Vienna bombing was the one who revealed the truth to me by showing me the video of my parents being murdered by The Winter Soldier. The man who told me the truth is a criminal. But then, the man who kept the truth from us all is a criminal as well. "Thank you all for listening. There will be no questions."] *** Tony lifted his hand and smacked away the letter he was writing as Rhodey walked in. "Sour patch! Look at you. How're the legs feeling?" "Better now that I tweaked the timing on the left one. Feels more natural now. But, Tony..." "Awesome. You should totally patent that port thing. That was really good work." Tony pulled up the schematics of Rhodey's braces to take a look at the timing adjustment port Rhodey had added. "I don't have time for—that's not why I came in here, Tones. Vision got a call—" "Time, shmime. I'll have Friday draft up the diagrams and application for you." "It would be my pleasure, Colonel Rhodes." "Yes, fine. Thanks, Fri. Tones, listen. Something's happened with the renegades." Tony stopped fiddling and gave Rhodey his full attention. "Tell me." "It's weird as hell." Rhodey dropped onto a lab stool and rolled over to join him. "Wanda contacted Vision to tell him she delivered Rogers to the US Embassy in Nairobi. I checked, and sure enough, according to embassy officials, she made him walk in like a zombie, then directed him to 'Wait here until Tony Stark comes to arrest you.'"

Into the Weeds by truet

This is literally the best Team Iron Man fic I read till now, and it includes all the things I missed from the other ones: acknowledgment of Rhodey’s smarts, acknowledgment of the education Rogues had, acknowledgment that Wanda may actually get angry at Steve when she learns what he did and what it means to her, acknowledgment that Hydra agents who ordered the murders should be arrested, acknowledgment of Tony relying on other people to actually accomplish or polish the things he engages with (JCCT, braces).

The only thing it doesn’t have is acknowledgment that Shuri doesn’t need BARF to help Barnes, but it’s only because the fact that the story never reaches that point, but damn, so many Team Iron Man fics mistreats other charas and I know it is not malicious, that it is because the authors love Tony and want him to fix the issues himself, but Tony isn’t omnipotent god of science and I would like people to get that Shuri is as mart as he is and can definitely handle helping Barnes and making his arm without Tony’s help, as much as Rhodey can fix his braces and doesn’t need Tony to constantly do it for him, because he has proper education to handle that, and also he is the user, so he knows best what is wrong and what is right and what works.

I also tend to like the stories which don’t demonize Wanda more than the ones which do, because I think she was radicalized, but not evil and those stories, where she is an evil Hydra agent or actually went mad long ago and nobody noticed, as much as interesting and enjoyable don’t really get what it means to be radicalized and then trying to de-radicalize and also heavily fall into the trap of demonizing a woman in the same way misogynist media creators usually do and the only thing I can blame is the fact that we all are raised in the society which hates women and even if we don’t actively believe in it some of it stays with us, in our subconscious and affects what we write and how. Everybody is capable of evil as long as they believe something very much and Wanda is more prone to that due to her background. Not to mention that those stories also usually infantilize her and I like to see her actually being treated like an adult she always was, who understands the consequences of Steve’s action for her and who would do something, albeit something stupid mind you, to mitigate her case, because she is an adult, and she like any other adult person would want to help her case somehow.

Oh, and author also knows how the whole “who arrests who” system works, so their stories actually show that nobody in the MCU creator board of creators, including the Russos, does a goddamn research about Europe. Most people don’t have this knowledge, so movies don’t seem off to them, but to people who do have this knowledge movies are weird and illogical.

[rametarin]

I’ve feared this for a while

The news that the new guy behind manga and anime wants to cleanse Japan’s media depresses me.

In my pre-teens, girls were really.. negatively affected, mentally, by the body issues and complexes that said the girls in comics were just sex objects and the boys that liked comics were just being willfully indoctrinated in ‘male gaze’ patriarchy boot camps.

It was the same problem when you read WH40K stuff or played Pokemon in front of clergy in the late 80s/later on, the mid 90s. Your Christian friend might throw a fit about ‘satanic monsters’ or your feminist friend might get on a soap box to hear themselves talk about how enlightened and ‘critical’ they were, or browbeat you into their little fantasy that “having this conversation with somebody” was improving society. Y’know, to give themselves a little ideological dopamine rush.

So you had to be very careful what girl you tried to relate with about liking comic books, or else out would come the accusations that comic books were just jingoistic right wing brainwashing books that objectified women and upheld sexist societal standards. That meant many boys feared sharing their interests or collections for fear of being seen as a Worthless Boy to many girls. Whom were keyed, either willingly or trained by their queen bee friends putting the fear of ostracism in them, to parrot that party line.

But then something amazing happened...

Japanese media hit US shores. And it was cute. It was feminine, often to the point of androgyny and neotony. The depictions of girls were often hyperfeminine and cutesy, often bordering on the infantilized.

BUT. it was in this.. AMAZING cultural and art donut hole! Because the American radfems could speak ad nauseum about old white men being sexist and hateful and misogynist oppressive pieces of shit, cogs in a white supremacist cultural war machine...

But white girls cannot speak over non-white minorities to decry other cultures as sexist, oppressive and wrong. You noticing any parallels with Islam right now, in the hearts of many people that claim they’re “leftists,” and, “progressive,” and therefore cannot be sexist or racist? Oops.

And then oh look, more VISIBLE, FAMOUS femake MANGAKA and more integrated women in DECADES of establishment! Cutesy female-led incorporations of sexy things!! Oh NO!! They’re in that junior radical feminist blindspot; you’re not even supposed to ASK about the hypotheticals of if GIRLS sexualize themselves in media, because, “well girls in media wouldn’t do that, that’s just a disgusting boy thing. :^) So I refuse to even answer that. Until the industry and status quo in comics changes, it’s a boy’s club.”

Well here the Japanese manga community is! Featuring GIRLS, telling SEX JOKES and being scantly clad and SEXY and having FUN and being innocent and joyful! oh look and it’s written and drawn by MINORITY. WOMEN!!!! From one of those oppressed foreign non-white cultures!!! Where women doing stuff professionally is VERY progressive and also an undeniable contribution of women doing anything! Look how puuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuure this is! It’s everything you radfems claim you want! EVEN MINORITY REPRESENTATION!!!

Radical Feminism of the time FUMED at this thing in the periphery being both sexual and EVERYTHING they CLAIMED they wanted from media in order for it to be good, but they bit their tongues. Because all the girls that started to enjoy Sailor Moon, learned about the censorship of Japanese media by foreign companies to market it in the west and how Japan had more mature, ‘pure’ depictions of female nudity and saccharine sweet sexuality, and they were growing deaf and dumb to the radfem’s rhetoric.

And.. I really can’t underline enough. If you’re in your mid-late 30s now, you SAW the visible shift. From when comic books became taboo and the girls got angry about being infantilized, made into sex objects, everything sex related had a negative light that, “boys didn’t respect them for their MIND an SOUL,” and other gripes all evaporated when Sailor Moon’s blonde meatball ass swung in like a Japanese wrecking ball, like a Lisa Frank notebook heroine come to life.

And comics and fiction and the culture became FUN again. No more walking on eggshells, no more avoiding being painted in that disgusting negative light by radfems pretending they cared about equality so much as defining radical feminist largesse as “equality” and selling it to less deep down the rabbithole women as egalitarianism.

And now the very seat of that shining culture is under attack by insiders that are carrying the foreigner mindset. Entire manga studios are being build and founded under Black Lives Matter and Privilege Theorist mindsets. Anime itself is under attack as a social culture by these fucking assholes.

So, 3rd party studios won’t have to add in those disgusting, stupid jokes in Dragon Maid about “the patriarchy,” deviating from the dialogue of the original just to be propagandic platforms. They’ll platform and edit the original material by sympathetic “critical lenses” wearing editors and silver spooned CEOs.

I’m going to be honest. I’m going to be sad to see Japanese media get the same ridiculous standards and sentiments of censorship in the west. A moratorium on blood, mention of death, and any scene with a NIP SLIP will be seen as juvenile, childish, perverted, and objectification of the female body. Bugger the fact you can have all these things and it’s perfectly healthy, but no, “we MUST ENSURE OUR SOCIETY IS FREE OF BAD THINK! MEDIA IS SOCIETY’S PSYCHOLOGY! PSYCHOLOGY MUST BE PURE OF BAD THINK, ELSE SOCIETY’S SIGNING OFF ON THIS BEHAVIOR!” Bullshit.

We all remember growing up with anime and manga in an era when everything even hinting at sexuality and violence was behind a few layers of bubblewrap and judgemental eyes. Everything more mature than Carebears highlighted and stigmatized so overbearing parents could tell if it had anything their little Johnny or Sarah shouldn’t even have agency over knowing, as long as the parents could have it. It was a cultural and mental refuge. It was where you could have your nip slips and innocent sexuality without judgement or accusations of being a disgusting person.

And more importantly it changed a lot of girls opinions or prevented them from swallowing that party line and going deeper down that rabbithole altogether.

Imported Japanese media returned a sense of both youthful innocence as well as tolerant maturity to western expectations of art and illustrated literature and I argue bridged that gap between the dark and gritty for-adults 90s stuff parents wouldn’t let kids even know existed, and.. fucking Carebears.

We still have webcomics for anything-goes, anyone-can-access, but that will come under threat next. Just you watch. Demanding anything with a nipple or even a mention of sexuality must be behind a government watched paywall so you can’t even access it without committing theft or fraud that the government can punish a person or their guardian over.

I really, really, really do not want the Japanese to experience the sort of horrible social climate that I remember looming when radical feminism sold itself to the girls as progressive, and made men depicting women inherently oppressive and evil. Where it sustains itself on the hysteria and personal emotional insecurities and complexes of millions of women normalizing that into a societal expectation that they then fear being judged by.

It was truly an absolutely miserable period of time to grow up as a comic fan and as a person, because the stigma was biting. And the contrast between the warm, open, free, inviting and friendly waters afterwards?.. Like going from swimming in cold arctic lemon juice to tranquil tropical seawater.

The existence of Japanese manga and what it did to the social climate of comic and cartoons fans cannot be understated enough.

I mean, yeah, at the time, folks like Joss Whedon helped with Buffy and shit, but we don’t talk about him and people like him. It was the 90s.

[theladysexpistol]

100 follower celebration part 2!!

Manifest (Okuyasu x fem!reader)

I’m so sorry for not filling out requests as fast, but I really wanted to finish these for everybody! Hope you guys like this one, too!!

Fic under cut again for length, totally SFW.

Summary: Okuyasu is over the moon as you are finally able to take your newborn daughter home with the two of you; but it brings out all the concerns he’s been silently agonizing over, too. Luckily, he’s got you.

   “Oh, baby no!” You exclaimed.

   The literal baby in your arms, your daughter who was nearly two weeks old, wasn’t disturbed at all by your cries as she reached into the bag you were carrying slung over your arm. There were a myriad of things she could probably grab a hold of that might hurt her - your keys, your wallet, lipstick, jewelry - and you adjusted the baby in your arms once again to try and keep her away. Babies were supposed to be timid when they were finally brought home, but your daughter seemed to already be taking directly after her father, active and unable to sit still.

   Perhaps you were overacting just a bit, but who would blame you? You were newly a mother, after all. The thought of anything happening to your baby frightened you. Could lipstick really hurt a baby? Probably not, but you weren’t interested in taking that chance. You could try holding her without the arm the bag was on; if you were crazy enough to entertain the idea of carrying your daughter with only one hand!

   “[Y/N]! What is it?!” The voice of the other most important person in your life rang out from the other side of the car, and you sighed, but couldn’t help the smile that appeared. If you were overreacting, then you couldn’t even imagine what they’d call his reactions over your newborn daughter. Okuyasu appeared from around the trunk of the car, where he was unloading more things to be brought inside for her. There was a big box lifted over one shoulder, and a high chair looped on his other arm. The sight of it made your heart melt as the sight of him usually did, but you also berated yourself for the umpteenth time that you had overlooked buying a high chair for her in the months leading up to her birth.

   “Nothing, Oku,” you replied, adjusting the baby in your arms once more. “She just keeps reaching for the bag. I don’t know what to do-“

   Before you could even finish explaining, Okuyasu had yanked the bag off your arm and added it to his load. “I got it!”

   “Wait, why don’t you have Josuke carry something, I don’t want you to get hurt!”

   But you watched with indignation as he merrily carried everything into your home by himself.

   “He never learns, eh?” The aforementioned, best friend of your husband, Josuke, said as he came around from the trunk, also carrying a box over his shoulder but admittedly much smaller than the one Okuyasu had taken.

   “Why didn’t you offer to take the bag?” You were half-teasing, but also you kind of weren’t.

   “Are you kidding? Okuyasu would kill me if I offered you any help. He’s been that way since you two started dating. You know this.”

   The way he smiled at you, well, you could never stay mad at either of the two of them. They were practically attached at the hip, the two of them. You’d gotten used to seeing Josuke around fairly quickly. And he was there for every part of your relationship with Okuyasu; he’d been the one to encourage Okuyasu to ask you out, helped him when you two fought, and was the first one to know even before family when you found out you were having a baby. And as soon as he met her, your daughter had wrapped up her uncle around her fingers just as easily as she had her father.

   You held the door for him as you and Josuke made your way inside your house, where Okuyasu was waiting, beaming, and luckily nothing broken as far as you could tell. As soon as you crossed the threshold of the door he’d plucked the baby out of your arms and slid the bag back onto your arm, leaving you speechless for a moment before mockingly putting your hands on your hips. As soon as her father had her in his arms, your daughter lit up, smiling and giggling and moving her arms around as he kissed her beautiful little forehead.

   “I knew this would happen!” You feigned frustration. “He’d forget about me as soon as we brought her home!”

   Josuke chuckled. “You three make quite the little family. Well, I’ll help take this stuff to her nursery, and then I’ll call Koichi and Yukako to see when they’re going to get here.”

   You thanked him and watched Josuke carry - safely - one box at a time, before your attention went back over to the love of your life and the precious bundle he was cooing at. The sight of it sent an electric warmth surging through your body, and you felt yourself tearing up; it was everything you could have ever asked for. Finally, you approached him and put your arms around Okuyasu’s torso, catching his attention just long enough to plant a kiss on him.

   “She’s home. It’s wonderful, isn’t it?”

   “Yes, yes of course,” he said a bit oddly, drawing an eye raise from you.

   “It sounds like there’s a but at the end of that?”

   “No there isn’t! I don’t regret a single thing!” He exclaimed, a little too forcefully for your liking.

   “Okuyasu!” You snapped his full name, something that you only did when upset with him. “Tell me what’s wrong!”

   The thought had never crossed your mind before, but was it possible he could have gotten cold feet? He was there for you, every step of the way through your pregnancy. You thought your daughter had charmed her father completely. Had you read it all wrong?

   Okuyasu sighed, his shoulders slumping forward. “I’m really not all that smart, you know that, [Y/N]? You’re the smart one.”

   This self-deprecation of his was commonplace, and you felt as though you knew what would be coming next. You slid your hand over his back, anything to assure him you were there and you were listening. Just as always. He said he was the stupid one, but how could you be so dumb to jump to such radical conclusions?

   “What if... if I’m a terrible father?” He said finally, sitting down on the chair behind the three of you. You could see as his grip tightened around the swaddled baby in his arms. Not tight enough to bother her, but tight enough for you to visibly see the tension that was in his body.

   “Oku, you won’t be a terrible father,” you replied gently.

   “How do you know that? I’m not smart at all, and I barely remember my mom, and the only things I remember about my dad’s parenting is how much he used to hit me. Keicho raised me since I was five and well, you know how that went.”

   His expression had completely fallen by now, from how bright his eyes had lit up when holding your daughter. You could feel your heart sink a little in your chest for him. Okuyasu, who was never afraid of anything, was very scared at failing as a father.

   “I’m not perfect,” you started slowly, raising a hand to brush over his cheek soothingly. “I’m only human. I’m going to make mistakes as a mother too. But we’ll have each other, Oku, the whole way.”

   “What if she develops a Stand?” He asked, suddenly looking you directly in the eyes. You could tell the thought had been tormenting him; he had just been really good at hiding it. “That will obviously be my fault. How will I be able to protect her if that happens?”

   You brushed your fingers slowly over his shoulder and along the back of his neck, a small smirk playing on your face. “Well, her daddy’s the strongest Stand user I know.”

   You pridefully beamed when you saw a blush making its way onto Okuyasu’s face. He adorably bit his lip in defiance. “I don’t think that’s true.”

   “Well I suppose then her Uncle Josuke isn’t bad either,” you added, poking him in the side. “We’ll figure it out, together. You don’t have to worry, Okuyasu, because you’ll never have to do these things alone. It won’t be easy, raising our daughter, but I promise you that I’ll be there to support you every step of the way, okay?”

   You leaned over to give him another, very gentle kiss as the bundle in his arms cooed softly, as if knowing her parents were stressing over her. In response, Okuyasu’s arm wrapped around you and he pulled you in a little closer, comforted more by your presence than by your words. You knew it, because you knew him. It seemed to have worked though, as his shoulders relaxed, tension in his muscles slowly melting away under your touch.

   “All right you two,” Josuke’s voice interrupted the very intimate moment between the three of you. “Enough fooling around. You’ll get all the time you want together later, after I leave, so I was expecting some help while I’m moving your things-“

   You looked up to see Josuke turning the corner with more boxes in his hand for just a moment, before he tripped on something underfoot and immediately fell on his ass and the things in his hand went flying.

   Okuyasu’s arm around your waist tightened instinctively, and you watched as the expression on his face became blank, but focused. You couldn’t see The Hand - you couldn’t see Stands at all, only knew they were there - but knew in the way his face changed, and the way the boxes suddenly flew toward the two of you and gently floated to the ground, that he had summoned his Stand. You let out a sigh of relief as you stood up and went over to Josuke to make sure he was okay, helping him to his feet as you laughed.

   “Nice reaction on that one, Okuyasu,” Josuke chuckled, but looked over toward his best friend when he didn’t reply. “Okuyasu?”

   You followed his gaze over toward him, where Okuyasu was still holding your daughter. His face was trained on hers, while her tiny face was staring at the boxes. More accurately, at the shimmering presence that was above them.

   “She’s staring directly at The Hand,” Josuke told you. “She can see his Stand.”

   “Only Stand users can see another Stand,” Okuyasu repeated reflexively, like it was something he was programmed to say.

   You looked between the two stunned Stand users and your daughter, who’s gentle expression showed she wasn’t frightened of The Hand at all. Of course she wouldn’t be; it was the manifestation of her father’s soul. It was a part of Okuyasu.

   “Well, that’s one question answered, I suppose,” you couldn’t help but laugh a little, and your laughter eased the tension that had built up in the room. “Looks like you boys’ll be busy when her Stand manifests.”

[k7l4d4]

Midnight Striga: Fairy Tail/Owl House Cross Fic Episode 5 Part 7

Once more, I arrive, with Midnight Striga in tow!! Everybody Clap Your Hands!!

Boyd was utterly bored. Groaning, he slung his knife, Radical Chop, over his shoulder, lightly kicking the twitching corpse next to him, one of Reticulus’ leftovers. Those were never fun to deal with, ‘cause they were already dead! What was the point of a killer guarding a corpse, instead of, you know, killing? Eh, maybe he could practice his mutilations, he had been getting a little rusty in that regard. Humming to himself, he slung the ragged body beneath his feet into an upright position; a girl from the looks of it, brown hair styled into three rings on the top of her head, her left eye gouged out, and missing her tongue. Glancing down he saw that her heart and stomach had been extracted. By his estimate, he’d say she was about 12, verging on 13. Ah man, he could’ve had such fun with her!

Sighing, he twirled his knife before pointing the tip towards her. The knife lengthened, stretched, and bent, contouring around the edges of her face, slowly and cleanly skinning off the layer of tissue. If only that eye wasn’t missing, then he could’ve added it to his collection! Ah well, better luck next time. While he was seemingly distracted, one of the nearby Witches decided to make a break for it, a boy whose hair covered his eyes and possessed rather bat-like ears. Without even glancing his way, Boyd’s knife shot out like a bullet, cleanly slicing through his throat in an instant. He didn’t even have a chance to scream, how boring!

“Stupid Witches, can’t even die properly.” He grumbles, flicking the boy’s blood off of his precious blade. “Stupid Reticulus, never leaving any good corpses to slice up.” He briefly wonders again as to why, exactly, he was being stuck with this stupid job. He was one of the Squadron’s best killers, so why were his talents being squandered? He mulled it over in his head, knife idly slicing through the girl’s corpse, when a creak drew his gaze forward. As the reason finally clicked, he deadpanned. He was being used as bait, and as a test; great.

Three kids stood in front of him, staring at him like he was some kind of fucking monster; to be fair, he was one, no doubt about that, but it was always so annoying when people looked at him like that. He briefly contemplated trying to figure out which one Reticulus wanted to test, but decided it would be more fun to just kill the little shits. Not like they really mattered anyway. The chunky girl with the glasses started doing that stupid circle thing they did to cast spells, can’t have that. His knife shot out, smoothly slicing through her wrist and across her face, stabbing through her eyes into the brain.

Before the other two could do more than widen their eyes, he struck again. His blade ripped through the neck of the Mint-headed girl, and wasn’t that a color, sending her head rolling. Before the smaller boy could even scream, the knife slammed through his skull, entering through one ear, and exiting out the other. Scowling, he called Radical Chop back to him. No trouble at all, not even worth the effort of being clean. He sighed, only for a familiar, sharp pain to rush through his body; he had been stabbed. Glancing down, he was both surprised and not to see a dagger driven into his gut, the angle allowing for it to be dragged into his other vital organs easily. He spoke up, perfectly calm in the face of his death. “You can drop the invisibility now.”

As the air next to him rippled and faded, he was pleasantly surprised to see another kid, her face carefully blank save the familiar rage in her eyes, the kind he saw in all the kids who saw him kill their friends. He smirked. “Gotta say, pretty cold of you to throw your friends into the grinder like that.”

The girl snorted, calling over her shoulder. “Gus! Drop the illusion.”

“Got it!” A young voice called out, the corpses of the kids fading along with the blood coating his precious blade, the kids from before shimmering into view, ready to pounce if things turned dicy for the kid stabbing him at the moment.

Boyd snorted. He had underestimated them. He gave the girl who had effectively killed him a smirk. “So, you’re the little rat Retic wants to test, eh?” He laughed at her furious expression. “If you’re looking for him, he should be up ahead, going over the latest batch of bodies. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” Before they could blink, he whipped his blade, his beautiful Radical Chop, up to his head, driving it through his own skull.

Gus gagged, while Amity and Willow looked on stoically. It was certainly an improvement over Gus actively heaving and the girls shouting. It was to be expected, as this was the fifteenth kill by this point, though they had only gone for the stealth option when they saw how quickly he had killed that Witch trying to get past him.

Amity glanced down at the Witch the man had killed. She recognized him. “Hey, I think I know this one.”

Luz walked over, glancing down at the bat-eared boy, curious. “Really? Who is he?”

Amity shrugged. “I honestly don’t know him personally, but Skara was interested in him a little.” She sighed, knowing that she’d have to deliver the news to her friend. “I really hope she takes this well.” She glanced up at the feeling of a hand on her shoulder, seeing Willow giving her a comforting, if hesitant smile, which she returned.

Luz sighed. “Let’s go, we’ve still got to take down Retic if we want this to end.” The others nodded. Bracing themselves, they moved, ready for the fight to come, or so they thought.

Eda moved to Lily’s side, shaking her roughly. “Come on Sis, we don’t have time for this!” She cried, frantically gesturing to the crowd under attack. She bit her lip, tilting Lily’s head up. “Listen, Sis, I know we usually don’t see eye to eye, but if you can’t get out of your head, that crowd is going to die.” She thought she saw a flicker of light in her eyes. “You always said you wanted to be in Bonehead’s Coven to help people, well now’s your chance to prove it! Those people up there? They came here to see you, because they believe in you! Are you really going to let them down!?” She got down on her knees, pleading. “Sis, I need your help, as painful and ridiculous as it sounds, it’s the truth! Please!” She glanced back at Rudolph, who had paused, enjoying the show. The bastard was enjoying watching her beg for her sister’s help.

Rudolph snickered, and laughed. “It truly is amusing to see! Earlier, I had lamented your decision to keep the wretched thing alive, but I see now that I was wrong!!” He cackled, relishing the look of enraged confusion on Eda’s face, even as the crowd desperately fought to survive.

“What in hell are you talking about, you psycho!!” Eda growled, bracing herself to defend if necessary.

Rudolph gave her an ugly smirk, oozing amusement. “Simple. You may not have killed her body, but you certainly killed her spirit! She’s lost the will to live, I’d say!” He cackled, soaking in the look of dawning horror on Eda’s face, the soul-crushing realization of what her display had done, even if she couldn’t comprehend how.

“No.” Eda breathed out, slowly walking away from Lily. “That wouldn’t happen, not with her! She’s too strong for that to happen!”

“Is she?” Rudolph mused, genuinely curious. “Everything we’ve gathered has pointed to a woman with a rather fragile ego; seeing her baby sister showing her up once again must’ve been quite the shock.” He was amused at Eda’s denial; for all she claimed to be the strongest on the Isles, a statement not totally devoid of fact, she seemed to be a tad oblivious to the fortitude of those around her.

“Gathered…” Eda muttered, her eyes widening. “You’ve been spying on her!?”

“Oh her, the schools, the government, you, everyone really. We carefully staked this out ever since we arrived.” He placed his hands on his hips, looking pleased with himself. “I must say, we certainly displayed an impressive amount of restraint, building all of this up.” He shrugged. “Normally, we just come and kill everything and everyone we come across. It was quite the learning experience!”

“You…” Eda growled, pure hate coloring her voice. “Just who do you think you are!?”

“Why, my dear, I think I’m the one leading the attack on your people, at the moment at least.” Rudolph cheekily replied. “After all…

“... We are the ones who hold the power in this situation.”

Mattholomule silently cried behind a stand, the crazed laughter of the maniac out front still ringing in his ears. He had just seen a woman torn limb from limb by flying chains, her organs and blood splattered all about. Bria sat next to him, biting her lip, while Gavin and Angmar played Rock-Paper-Scissors to figure out what to do. That choice was taken from them, however, when a chain yanked Bria out of hiding, prompting the three to scream in fear.

“It is simply the way of the world, after all. The powerful thrive, the weak die. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Emira held in a curse, while Edric hyperventilated next to her. Two squads of the invaders had just finished corralling a group of kids into a corner. She closed her eyes, trying to tune out the screams, Edric silently crying next to her, as the Mages ripped the children apart in a hail of magic. Glaring daggers at the murderers, Emira paused, a plan coming to her. Whispering to Edric, who nodded firmly in agreement, the two slunk into the shadows.

“Why, it is only natural for those with power, namely us, to do with it as we- HURK!”

Reticulus loomed over a potential donor, their limbs spread by his veins, dislocated from his body and acting as ropes to bind and restrain his target. He licked his lips. It wouldn’t do for the fools to potentially damage his prize with unnecessary struggling, now would it? Just as he reeled back to rip his prizes from the worthless husk before him, his body registered the sensation of a blade digging into his arm.

“Just shut your fucking mouth.” Eda warned, the butt of her staff slammed into the sadist’s gut. Seeing his hands take on that icy glow, she raised her leg, slamming him back with a kick to the chest. “You don’t know anything about the people of the Isles!” She shouted, her eyes spotting Bump summoning some Abominations in the stands, directing them at Rudolph’s troops.

“You think just because you’ve got a lot of power, you get to throw it around, and we’ll just take it?” She countered his frost with a fireball, landing a cracking blow across his jaw. When Rudolph slammed his hands against the ground, summoning an encroaching sheet of frost, she ripped it away with a shockwave of magical force.

“Your resistance to the inevitable is growing irksome!” He yelled, forming a fang of ice around his hand, lashing out at Eda. She blocked his blow with her staff, grunting as he forced her back. Spines of ice formed along his arms, stabbing towards Eda. “Your people are a pack of sheep, blindly following the words of a false prophet in their inane desire for safety!!” He encased her wrists in ice, preventing her from casting, before slamming his forehead into her eyes. “You may well be the strongest on the Isles, but that title is as hollow as their leader’s words!” He slashed his blades at Eda’s sides, a cry of pain ripping from her throat. Unbeknownst to either combatants, Lilith twitched at Eda’s cries.

“I…! Have stood on my own two feet… my entire life!” Eda choked out, hands grabbing at the claws currently pinning her in place. 

“I do what I want to do, nothing more… nothing less…!” 

Bria screamed, feeling the skin of her arms and legs stretching from the chains pulling her in either direction. The pain was like nothing she had felt before. Angmar and Gavin were being pinned in place, metal blades pushing into their hands to keep them from casting. She was… she was going to die here. Tears came to her eyes at the thought.

The maniac tormenting her gave a demented giggle, gesturing for the chains to rip her apart, once and for all.

“Stay away from Bria!” A young voice shouted. The agent turned in shock, his casting forgotten, as a fist as large as his torso careened towards him, pulping his skull. Standing defiantly, was Matty, tears of rage in his eyes.

“But for all that I hate Bonehead… I love the Isles… and the people who call it home…!” 

With the plan prepped and ready to go, Emira glanced towards Edric. Grimly, she nodded, with him flashing a thumbs up in response. In perfect sync, the two yanked on the cords they had set up, releasing a colossal explosion of smoke into the groups of killers. Working in concert, the twins cast a spell onto the two groups. When their vision cleared, both groups saw the other as a squad of Coven Guards. Reacting to the apparent enemy, the two sets of invaders unleashed their magic upon each other, and in a matter of moments, all were dead. The twins dropped the spell, clutching each other in relief.

“So if you think I’m just going to stand back… and let you kill people because you feel like it… then you’re even crazier than you look!!”

With a scream of rage, Luz drove her blades into Reticulus’ eyes, while Willow used her vines to rip free the near-victim, Amity conjuring up her Abomination to cushion the fall, Gus using his Illusions to guide the way to the exit. Using his broad back as leverage, Luz pushed herself off of his body, landing in a crouch near the others, eyes glaring daggers at the hulking monster before them.

Rudolph scoffed, his humor long gone. “And did you forget that my magical frost builds up and hampers you further the more of it you are exposed to? Hmm?” He accused, eyes narrowed in contempt.

“Nope!” Eda gamely replied. “I just decided I hated the look of you more than I was afraid of dying against you.” Her cheeky grin turned daring, eyes bright with challenge. “Even if I die, I’ll have died fighting for my freedom. Give me your best shot, you two-bit bully.”

With a roar of rage, Rudolph reared back his arm, fully intending to skewer the arrogant Witch who dared to challenge his might! His eyes widened in surprise, however, when his attack clashed against a raised staff, brilliant aquamarine eyes glaring at him.

“Stay. Away. From my sister.” Lilith hissed.