#Mediocre Witch rambles

[femininefreyanyctophile]

welcome to top ten assassinations. number ten will shock you. number nine will blow your mind. number eight hit you like a truck. number seven will take your breath away. number six wi

[caffiend-queen]

I'll Break Your Heart Before You Break Mine...

An Avengers - Loki Holidays In Hel story

I've been cleaning up and adding bits to my Holidays in Hel series because really, it's my favorite. I hope you enjoy, and thank you as always for reading!

In which Loki's courtship of Mina (refer to "The Christmas Party") hits a snag when his timid little darling suddenly decides to dump him on Valentine's Day.

I wrote this listening to the beautiful "Takeaway" from The Chainsmokers and Illenium. Have a listen here: https://youtu.be/lzkKzZmRZk8

The first time Loki had seen a Valentine, he approached it with the same look of disgust one would give a used litter box.

“What is this cloying monstrosity?” he queried, holding the little card up by his thumb and forefinger.

“Well…” Mina’s brow furrowed. “Oh, of course. This is your first Valentine’s Day on Ear- Midgard, isn’t it?” Her boyfriend (?) beau (?) Supreme Overlord of Sex (!) was by now lounging elegantly on his suede couch, arms stretched along the top of it and legs sprawled obscenely. As usual. "This is a Valentine, it's from my niece in Wisconsin."

One dark brow arched. "Explain?"

"Well, you create little cards and give them to people you care about, family, friends..." she coughed a little and added quickly, "boyfriends. They're usually heart-shaped, pink or red, and-"

"The human heart is not shaped like that," Loki interrupted, "I've torn them still beating from the chests of my enemies and they more resemble-"

"No trips down memory lane, brother!" Thor interrupted with perfect timing, which was extremely unusual. "We must make ready. There is a new mission.” He'd slammed open the door to Loki's suite, knowing it infuriated his brother every time.

With a sigh, Loki stood, waving one pale hand and was instantly clad in his dark green armor. "And who might we be engaging? More angry Dark Elves? The crossbred Jotunn ice bear? A blood witch from the Grievous Clan?" 

“No, Professor Snape, they’re … what did you call them, Thor?” Tony Stark rambled into the apartment, standing over Loki, who had reseated himself with an uncomfortable Mina on his lap. She’d tried to pop up when Thor casually broke in, but Loki’s arm came down like an iron bar to keep her in place.

Thor was nosing around the fresh-baked muffins on the counter. “They are Plesticites, do you remember battling them on the Wandering Moons of Alfheim, brother?”

Loki groaned audibly. The aforementioned creatures were multi-limbed monstrosities that spat secretions as thick as tar and vile as vomit. “And why are they here on Midgard?” he snarled, “Why did Heimdall not raise the alarm before these sacs of pus found a wormhole?”

Mouth full of muffin, his brother shrugged one giant shoulder. Stark, with that infuriating cheer he had only when interrupting someone else’s love life, clapped his hands together. “Chop chop, Asgardian supermodels, we’re off to kill the things that look like Donald Trump’s ass.”

“Darling,” Loki gently set her down on a cushion and rose, leaning over to capture a kiss. “I shall see you anon.”

It was a spectacular kiss, so it took Mina a moment to realize a case holding six of Loki’s best daggers was on the counter next to the muffins. Knowing he never went into battle without them, she tucked them under her arm and hoofed it for the roof, trying to catch him before the helicarrier took off. 

The team was still on the landing pad, and the wind carried their conversation back to her as she exited the elevator.

“- to celebrate the day with Lady Mina?” She knew Thor had Big Plans for Jane, especially after Darcy handed him a step-by-step list for what was required of a romantic boyfriend. Mina lingered for a moment around the corner, a little excited. Plans? Loki had plans for Valentine’s Day?

“You must be joking,” he sneered, “you believe I would stoop to celebrating a pathetic testament to retail excess? Debasing myself with the purchase of stuffed animals and mediocre flowers?”

Mina sighed and leaned against the elevator door. So, no Valentine’s Day, then.

“But your lady, she will expect it,” Thor said earnestly. “It is considered most important.”

“He’s right, you don’t want to screw this up.” Mina cocked her head. Was that Bucky?  “This stuff is important to women.” Loki didn’t cut the soldier off, as he’d done with his brother. She always found Loki’s - if not friendship, a comfortableness, an accord - with James Barnes intriguing. Mina had asked him about it one day, and he’d pinned her with that bleak, blue-gray gaze of his. “Loki knows what it’s like to be tortured. For decades.” She'd felt her heart splinter in that moment. For both of them.

“It is of no consequence,” Loki said dismissively, “by then, Mina and I will no longer be-” the roar of the helicarrier’s engines began and the rest of his statement was lost. Numbly taking the case of daggers back down to Loki’s apartment, Mina hesitated at the door. Would he have already revoked her access to his place?

But the door opened and she stepped in. It still smelled like Loki- sharp and clear, like pine and snow. She marched through his suite of rooms, picking up the few items she’d left there- a silk slip, her spare toothbrush, two books she’d loved and recommended to him. That was it. There were no photos of the two of them together, no tenderly written notes. It was so familiar, Mina thought bitterly, just like the last three times. 

What was it with her and Valentine’s Day? Who the fuck gets dumped three times on the most “romantic” day of the year? Stuffing everything in her bag, she could remember Kevin’s stupid face, "It's not me, babe. It's you." February 14th, 2017.

Milo, "I just feel that Valentine's Day is an excuse for women to siphon up free gifts, and I refuse to be manipulated by female greed." Pause. "Before I leave, did you get me anything?" February 14th, 2014.

And then there was Brian. "Yeah, I don't see a future with us, Mina. You're always busy at school and I need a woman who can commit." That turned out to be her best friend Marcia. Who was already married. February 14, 2019.

“And it’s happening again?” she gave a short, humorless chuckle, “At least this time, Loki’s not really my boyfriend. I’m not sure the word boyfriend could apply to a seven-foot-tall alien who looks like a supermodel and hands out orgasms like they’re penny candy. Fuck this.” 

Stomping into Jane’s lab on the 47th floor, Mina forced herself to smile. This was a new job and she couldn’t afford to break down. Of course, she had this new job because the thermodynamics lab fired her after the paparazzi storm from her night as Loki’s date at Stark’s disastrous Christmas Party. They wouldn’t leave her alone and one even burst into the ladies’ room as she was hitching her undies back up. And, her boss was just walking out of her stall as well. Fortunately, Jane immediately made the case to Tony that Mina would be very helpful in her research.

Unfortunately, Darcy was never shy about prying into everyone else’s personal lives. “Hey, Mina Mina Bo-bina, what does your sex god Asgardian have planned for Valentine’s Day?”

Jane didn’t look up from her microscope. “Thor is the God of Sex, actually.”

Without thinking, Mina shook her head. “No, Thor is the God of Fertility. Loki is the God of Lust.” They'd both been studying a book - The Royals Guide to Asgard together. Tossing her bag on her desk, she added under her breath, “Not that it matters.”

Darcy, who could under most circumstances be the poster child for Adderall, was remarkably single-minded when it came to heartbreak. Eyes narrowed behind her glasses, she pushed her face close to Mina’s. “You’ve been crying. Did Mr. Hot and Psycho do something?”

“Nope, that’s the point,” she said, “we’re doing nothing for Valentine’s Day because he’s dumping me.” 

“No!” Jane was shocked, “Thor says Loki is crazy about you!”

“I overheard him talking to Thor and Bucky when I went up to bring him his daggers for the mission,” Mina said bitterly. “He said that he and I would no longer be together.” Her shoulders slumped. “But I don’t think we ever were.”

It was not ten minutes later when Darcy had mercilessly bullied her into joining “Girl’s Night,” refusing to tell her where the herd of single women were migrating to. 

Three days later and no word from Loki, it settled into her with a despondent certainty that he would not be “courting her” (as he’d put it) anymore. She didn’t ask Jane if she’d heard from Thor, because the look of discomfort, then pity was more than she could bear. So Mina kept a cheerful smile and pretended everything was fine as bouquets started popping up on desktops, boxes of chocolate and heart-shaped cookies circulated and whispered conversations filled with giggles were all around her.

Screw Valentine’s Day. It sucked.

Nonetheless, she defiantly dressed for the girl’s “Cupid is Stupid” outing with Darcy in a short, saucy little emerald-colored dress she’d picked up on sale. She had been saving it to wear on a special occasion with Loki, but…. Angrily dashing away a tear before it ruined her cat’s-eye eyeliner, Mina straightened her shoulders. She would go have fun with Darcy and the girls. Then this day would be over, and-

The reality that she would eventually be seeing Loki in the halls, perhaps in the lab every now and then made her sink onto her couch. Would he be bringing new women to social events? Mina’s lips thinned and she stood up, seizing her bag and storming out the door. “It’s going to be a bit more difficult finding a date that doesn’t mind you kidnapping her off the street!” she hissed, halting at the appalled stare of nice Mrs. Wyscowski who lived next door in E16 as she got off the elevator. The woman was carrying a bouquet of roses. ‘Of course,’ Mina thought, ‘even my 73-year-old neighbor gets flowers.’ Instantly feeling guilty, she held the door for her. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Mrs. W. The roses are so pretty!”

“Thank you, dear. And what are you and Mr. Odinson doing this evening?” Mrs. Wyscowski loved Loki, of course. The charming bastard insisted on kissing her wrinkled hand every time he spotted her.

Mina’s smile faltered, but she stepped into the elevator. “Have a good night, Mrs. W.”

When her Uber pulled up to the address Darcy gave her, she audibly groaned. Seriously?

The driver laughed, looking in his rearview mirror. “Not what you were planning on?”

“Knowing my friend, I should have,” Mina sighed. Cherry’s Sexual Harassment Pub was bustling with giggling women lined up at the bar and guarding table space for their friends close to the stage. Passing by gigantic posters of bare-assed men with names like “Blaze,” and “Nitro,” she rolled her eyes. 

“Bitch!” Darcy shouted at the top of her considerable lungs, standing on her chair and waving at her like she was a one-winged sparrow, trying to take flight. But when one of the buff, shirtless waiters brought over a tray of Sex on the Beach shooters, Mina took two.

Just as Mina was throwing back her first shot, a bloody and exhausted crew was exiting the helicarrier, eager to shower off the genuinely disgusting mission and focus on something new: sex, booze, and for a few, even romance. Thor nudged his brother with one giant arm. “Have you reconsidered what to do for the Lady Mina? The night is young.” 

“I have told you, Thor,” Loki snarled, “I do not indulge in such plebian excess.”

Undeterred, his brother said, “Jane has mentioned that she has seemed quite despondent these last few days. Have she seemed so when she speaks with you?”

Loki shrugged. “I do not speak with Mina whilst on missions away. I’m sure she is fine. And most likely,” he said, his pace increasing as they exited onto their floor, “waiting for me in my chambers. So if you’ll excuse me…”

But Mina wasn’t. She’d been very good about showing up when he returned from missions, working here in the Tower in Jane’s lab gave her proximity and advance warning. In fact … as Loki strolled to the bedroom he noticed her absence, along with the few little things she’d left in his suite - including A Brief History of Time, a book he'd been rather enjoying. Where was the little minx? Sweeping a hand down his body to restore himself to spotlessness and into a fresh black suit, he set off for the labs, Mina was no doubt working late. 

Mina was laughing uncontrollably as Darcy had her legs looped around the back of a stripper who had his head buried in her considerable cleavage. He was still managing to swirl those agile hips to the beat of “Girls, Girls, Girls” by Motley Crew even as he was making motorboat noises. A sudden vision of Loki teaching her how to dance the tango on his terrace rose in her mind and she angrily shook her head. She was not going to be one of those single people on Valentine’s Day who got all drunk and weepy! Well … reaching for the champagne in the middle of the table, she drank right from the bottle. Not one of those single people who cry, anyway. Screw Loki. Screw Loki and his beautiful agile hips and those fingers and how he’d purr all those filthy things in her ear when she was coming. 

Ugh.

“Break his heart before he breaks mine,” she mumbled, nearly inaudible under the screaming of the other women. But someone was listening.

In fact, the Stark group had enjoyed VIP treatment all night - graciously escorted to the best table on the floor and several bottles of complimentary champagne delivered with "Compliments of the house, beautiful ladies." The shirtless blonde waiter - who was hilariously named "Thor," according to his nametag - wore impeccable white cuffs and collar and was most attentive, chuckling indulgently as his perfect, firm ass was groped more than once. "Thor" even leaned over invitingly by Mira as he'd brought more drinks, but she smiled nervously and scooted her chair over a bit.

“Hey, pretty lady,” he oozed, “is there something … special I can get you?” 

“Hell, yeah!” shouted Darcy, “Our girl just broke up with her boyfriend! Right before Valentine’s Day, can you believe it?” Mina cringed so hard she could feel her spine compress.

"Thor" took her hand, eyes wide in his most sincere sympathy. “He’s a fool to let you get away, baby. You need a man who knows how to appreciate a queen like you.”

‘Oh, gawd …’ she thought. “Oh, I broke up with him,” she nodded firmly, “so yeah, it’s all good. It’s fine. Really,” she emphasized, trying to yank her hand away from his. Her palm was tingling like crazy and she wiped it on her skirt several times, frowning at the odd burn.

But then the lights came up and the smarmy DJ’s voice bellowed out, “Heeeey, Ladies! Welcome to the Cupid is Stupid spectacular! We’re gonna give you pretty little things all the affection you deserve tonight! Up first, give a waaaaarm, wet welcome to Valentino!”

She was laughing, Mina just couldn’t help it. This was so fucking cheesy. What was she doing here?

What was she doing here? Looking around the room, she could tell she was the only one not totally invested in the web the strippers were weaving. Her forehead creased. That was a weird image. But all the girls were screaming, waving tens and twenties, glassy-eyed and utterly focused on the man on stage, currently undulating in a g-string. The waiters were circulating, putting down more drinks, running fingertips along a cheek, along a shoulder or down the neck and dipping into cleavage. And the girls all seemed to love it. Wiping her sweaty forehead, Mina blinked, looking at her phone. Just to check the time, that’s all.

Nothing from Loki. Of course.

Rising abruptly from her seat, she made her way through the crowd of rapturous women. Once in the bathroom, she splashed her face with cold water, forgetting about her careful makeup. Why was she so sweaty? Looking in the mirror and wiping away her streaked mascara, Mina sighed. This was worse than being at home watching While You Were Sleeping and weeping uncontrollably. “I’ll walk home,” she said to the grimy mirror. “Get some exercise. Yeah. You know, endorphins.”

Walking back to the table to grab her purse and bid Darcy goodnight, she stumbled to a stop.

Loki was dancing. More specifically, her ex-boyfriend (well, the gorgeous god she’d been dating) was stripping. And the screams rose at a pitch that could shatter crystal. His vivid jade eyes were fixed on her, a filthy, knowing smirk on his face. His body was art. All marble-sheened skin with flexing, lean muscle beneath. She’d always been amused when people assumed Loki wasn’t physically powerful, like his bulky brother. Oh, no… those perfectly tailored suits of his hid a body of exquisite grace, broad shoulders and a chest and arms banded thickly with muscle. His long, long legs were sculpted, and when he lifted her to straddle his thigh and rubbed her against the taut strands there … oh, god. What was he doing here! This couldn’t- 

“Loki?” she shouted, incredulous and trying to get closer to the stage. 

“Hello, love.” She could see Loki’s lips moving, but even over the howl of the music and shrieks from the women, it still sounded like he was talking right into her ear. “I thought I would give you a bit of a surprise. Then, I intend to take you backstage, hoist you upon the nearest level surface and fuck you until you beg for mercy. Which of course, I shall not give you.” There was never a time Mina was more aware that he was a god. So beautiful, even under those tawdry pink lights, his hips moving in erotic figure eights and dancing just for her. So intent on reaching him, Mina never noticed another of the waiters come up from behind her, slipping an arm around her waist.

Thor was just helping Jane on with her coat as Loki strode into the lab. “Where is Mina?” He knew his tone was sharp, but he was suddenly filled with a sense of urgency, a necessity to reach her- to find his girl before-

“She’s out with Darcy and the girls.” Jane’s tone was not friendly. “You know, since you dumped her, it’s really not any of your business.”

“I beg your pardon?” 

It was clear Loki was shocked, which was shocking in of itself since the god prided himself on no expression other than urbane amusement or profound boredom. “She went out with the girls?” Jane said less aggressively. 

“Where?” His tone was sharp, but the couple didn’t take offense. They could feel it too, that something was wrong here. Loki was never agitated like this, not even in the middle of battle.

“Um…” Jane consulted her phone. “It’s a strip club,” she looked at him apologetically, “called, ugh, now I know Darcy picked it! It’s called Cherry’s Sexual Harassment Pub.” Thor choked down a laugh as his brother and Jane glared at him.

“This…” Loki hesitated, another shocking departure for him. “There is something wrong. I cannot say, but I feel it.”

To his credit, Thor immediately stepped up. “I shall come with you brother. My dearest, would you mind putting off our evening for a few hours more?”

She nodded, “Of course. Should I come with you? You know, to wrangle Darcy?”

“We must go, please, stay here.” It was the 'please' that stopped her from protesting as Loki dragged off her boyfriend. Loki never said please.

Darcy was screaming herself hoarse. She didn’t know how this could have possibly happened, but this was the best fucking night of her life! How the fuck could Bucky have overcome his shyness to be stripping for all these women? The Winter Soldier stared at her, licking his full lips as his crotch jutted at her obscenely, thick thighs bending to lure her closer to the stage. His long hair fell into his eyes, glowing with need for her. Her hand reached out. There was just one more layer to peel off, just the tiniest scrap of spandex between her and what she was certain was the biggest cock in North America. Just one little yank on that strap and... She was still trying to surge forward when the arms came around her from behind, gripping her tightly and making her ribs compress against her lungs. It felt like the most brutal kind of suction, feeling like the blood was being pulled out of the pores in her skin, but all she could think of was to get to Bucky- that beautiful bastard, she knew he always wanted her he did and then she was coming legs twitching and rubbing together hands still reaching out touch him.

MaryBeth from Offshore Accounts was dreamily watching Steve Rogers bare all that perfect, golden skin and rippling muscle. He was clean-shaven, not that scruffy beard he’d been wearing and those patriotic blue eyes were lasered in on her, he was going to tear her clothes off and fuck her right on the table, she could hear him! So MaryBeth swept out an arm, knocking everything off the surface and climbing on, hauling her skirt up. “Right here, Steve honey! I AM SO READY!” Darleen McMasters from the table next to theirs was from Queens, married 22 years and just here to keep her best friend and current divorcee Carla company, sat up abruptly. “FRANK?” she shouted, jaw dropped, “What on EARTH are you doing!” Her husband looked down, giving her a rakish wink and an extra little thrust of his hips.

Interestingly, Carla was also watching Frank get naked on stage, unbuttoning her blouse and hoping he’d FINALLY notice how much nicer her breasts looked than Darlene's.

Theresa from Digital Media was dreamily enjoying the sight of Carol Danvers peeling off that gorgeous fucking bodysuit, to show even more gorgeous fucking curves, her blonde hair shining like a beacon and Theresa was ready to run her hands through it-

By the time Loki had apparated himself and Thor into the middle of the club, it was silent, the raucous music gone and only the bestial grunts and slavering of the things currently feeding on the women. 

“By the Nine…” gasped Thor, instantly calling Mjölnir to him as he went back to back with Loki, who’d been searching for Mina. He found her writhing furiously against the incubus grappling her from behind. The truly amusing miscalculation of Midgard mythology - he thought while sending twelve daggers sailing through the air at the demon - was believing that the Incubi were attractive and seductive. They were repellant, horrifying, a grisly amalgamation of sinew, rot and slimy, mottled skin. They actually made the Plesticites the Avengers slaughtered that day look appealing. This one’s maw opened, showing jagged, rotting fangs as it screamed in rage and agony, punctured by the dozen blades in a tidy, cross-shaped pattern and falling off Mina’s back like a sack of meat. 

Thor’s hammer tore through another of the creatures, making the woman holding it scream “Leonardo! Don’t leave me! I believe in your Nature Alliance!” before she collapsed. And then the battle was on. Over twenty of the Incubi, mouths dripping black blood that sizzled like acid on the floor stalked toward them. They were so. Fucking. Hungry. They had planned this Valentine’s Day massacre for a couple of decades and no upstart Asgardian royalty was going to take their feast from them. Complicating matters was that most of the demons were able to hold onto the image of whatever their victim was imagining, and for many of the girls - particularly MaryBeth from Offshore Accounts who had dreamed of getting into Captain America’s red, white and blue suit for years now - were unwilling to let go of the Incubi draining them to death.

Black blood and gnarled, twisted limbs torn from desiccated flesh flew through the smoky air as the princes of Asgard ripped their way through the thicket of demonic visitors, as he leaned back gracefully to avoid a spray of ichor, Loki watched Mina leap on to the back of the incubus currently finishing off an unconscious Darcy.  The foolish creature still wore a dreamy smile on her red-lipsticked mouth, and she slid gracelessly to the floor as her rescuer stabbed the creature in the back of the neck, shoving hard to get the razor-sharp blade through its hide. He spun in one more circle to finish off the fiend sneaking up on Thor before turning back to seize Mina. 

“You had to burst in here. Creating such a fuss.” The voice was beautiful, well-bred and slightly amused. The creature it belonged to was perfection, everything a man should be - blond, very tall with a tight, perfect ass and red, full lips. And in one long-fingered hand, it was gripping the throat of his Mina, easily holding her off the ground as she kicked and thrashed, clawing at his muscled forearm. “There are so very many pretty, lonely girls in this city, on this night of all nights. And yet, you insisted on bothering ussss.” The man hissed the last word and displayed a mouth full of alarmingly sharp, needle-like teeth. “Now, I shall consume this meaningless human in front of you. Its mouth opened horribly wide, like a snake’s dislodging its jaw and Loki’s hand came up again, inhumanly, impossibly fast and threw his last dagger, a gleaming silver blur that nicked Mina’s throat, sending a spray of blood into the open mouth of the demon behind her.

It let out a scream of agony, smoke pouring from its throat and slamming on to the filthy floor, writing and howling before abruptly disappearing in a puff of sulfurous smoke, along with the remains of the other incubi. 

From there, it was really just a matter of cleaning up and damage control. The little club was suddenly packed with SHIELD agents and, Loki noted sourly, Doctor Strange, who was attending to the women, briskly erasing their memories of the night and putting in a suggestion of a gas leak.

“How original,” Loki sneered.

Bucky walked up behind him. “And here I thought my night was the worst Valentine’s Day choice ever.” He patted him lightly on his expensively suited shoulder. “You okay? Mina, too?”

“Indeed,” Loki said approvingly, “she slew one of the creatures herself.” He looked at the soldier again and decided to do something he traditionally considered loathsome. A bit of matchmaking. “However, your help is needed immediately for Miss Lewis.” 

Bucky frowned, looking over at a pale Darcy, two paramedics still trying to bring her around. “What can I do?”

Thor was close enough to be eavesdropping shamelessly, and he leaned in. “An incubus bite can only be reversed in one way, my friend.”

Picking up the thread, Loki walked Bucky closer. “The incubus presents the vision of the person the victim desires most. It is why they are irresistible. As it happens, Miss Lewis believed she was watching you perform for her.”

“What?” Bucky choked, going a little pale himself.

“You must … attend to her in order to heal her, I am certain you know what we are saying,” Loki finished smoothly. When his friend leaned down to cautiously pick the girl up, he made a negligent gesture with one pale hand and send the two of them back to Barnes’ quarters in the Tower.

“Brother,” Thor boomed, “did I just see…? Was that a … good deed?”

In a flash, another of his brother’s daggers was at his throat. “Never say such a repugnant thing to me again!” Loki snarled, eyes narrowed as Thor backed away, chuckling. 

“I must return to Jane,” he said, picking up Mjölnir and turning to the door. “And I believe you have a beautiful woman of your own to attend to.”

Placing his hands in the pockets of his beautiful suit, Loki strolled to Mina, who was attempting to wipe some of the gore off her skin. “Oh, my god,” she gagged a little, “I smell like something that washed up on the beach. How is it that you look perfectly put together?”

A corner of his mouth turned up, just slightly. “I am a god.” Her pretty face fell and she went back to scrubbing futilely at her dress. “That was a rather fetching gown,” he offered.

“Was is the operative word here,” she sighed, giving up. “You’re bad luck for expensive dresses.”

“Perhaps if you’d been waiting in my rooms at the Tower like a good girl,” he said haughtily, “your dress would be intact.”

“What?” His usually sweet-natured, mild girl threw the filthy bar towel at him. “Seriously? So you could dump me in person? How nice of you! That’s just never going to-” With a sigh, Loki seized her around the waist and they were gone. 

“Geddoff me!” Mina was wiggling, trying to get loose from Loki’s steel grip.

“Such a bad girl,” he said disapprovingly, “I must seek you out in a club catering to male nudity, save you from the Incubi and this is your gratitude?”

“Gratitude! Gratitude?” Her eyes were furious slits and she was snarling like a feral cat. “You DUMPED me! You have no right to-” Releasing her abruptly, he smiled a bit to hear her startled scream and then the huge splash. Hitching his trousers, Loki seated himself on a rock outcropping, waiting for her to surface. Mina did, paddling and splashing furiously in a rather adorable fashion until she was calmer. Wiping the water out of her eyes, she glared up at him. “Where are we?”

“This is Valeria,” he said, settling more comfortably. “It is an undeveloped planet that Asgard holds in guardianship. It is one of the last pure places in the universe.” As she swam closer, his clothes disappeared and he joined her in the water.

Mina gritted back a simper as she watched him rise from the crystal water, the waves sluicing off his hard body as he smoothed his wet hair off his face. “If it’s undeveloped, why are we here?” A wicked little smile graced his lips and she groaned audibly.

“I keep a vacation cottage here,” he said, swimming around her in circles. “Just a humble abode when I require peace and quiet.”

“Then, why am I here?” she pursued.

“Because you long to travel and take a safari in a far-flung country, Africa, perhaps. You wish to see wild animals and places undefiled by man.”

Mina flushed. “You’ve been looking at my Pinterest account again!”

“Darling…” Loki drew her onto his lap in the water. “Valeria has over 1,930,000 species of animals that have never been seen anywhere but here. I shall take you all over this world tomorrow and show you creatures you never imagined. Animals no other human eye will ever see.”

Looping her arms around his smooth shoulders, Mina gave him a weak smile. “Was that what you meant when you told Thor that we would no longer be … something by Valentine’s Day?”

“Of course, foolish girl. I’d planned this off-world safari for you for some time-” Loki’s answer was cut off when she pressed her mouth to his.

“So you weren’t breaking up with me,” she mumbled, not meeting his gaze.

Loki pursed his mouth. “Will there ever be a time you do not doubt me, my Mina? Where you will not compare me to the utterly pedestrian fools you have been with before me?”

She did feel terrible. But warm and kind of glowing inside at the same time. So when her god leaned back against the warm rocks and spread his long legs with an utterly filthy leer, she slipped deeper into the heavenly water, swimming between his knees. “Allow me to make it up to you, my King,” Mina said in the sweetest of tones. Loki was fighting a smile, she could tell, but he nodded regally. Putting his perfect, thick cock into her mouth was never a hardship, she thought, sucking carefully on the tip and fluttering her tongue on the sensitive underside. Lunging to bring the length of him down her throat, she enjoyed the low growl that rattled through his chest. Carefully cupping his scrotum with one hand, she slid her finger along the sensitive flesh behind his sac. One hand came up to pet her wet hair as his hips thrust up before he pulled them back.

“Such a good girl,” he praised her, chest heaving. When she finally circled his anus with a questing finger, Loki regretfully pulled her off his painfully stiff cock. “Not this time, darling. I must make you wet and soft for me.” Mina let out a startled shriek as he simply lifted her by the waist and planted her pussy on his face.

“Oh, my god, Loki I’m going to smother you! Wait, just- Oh, godddd,” she moaned, back arching a little as she felt his cool tongue and lips play with her. She could hear the sound of birds chirping and the occasional rustle of leaves as if the animals here were creeping down to watch. 

Loki gently bit one of her swelling lips and held on as she tried to pull loose. “I require your attention to be focused upon me, feasting on this juicy cunt.” When she nodded a little randomly, he slid two fingers up her channel and attacked her again, sliding his tongue back and forth before latching onto her clit and sucking gently.

When he caught her startled gaze, he winked one jade-colored eye and scraped his teeth gently across the excruciatingly sensitive tissue of her pearl, enjoying her gasp and deliciously wanton moan as she came. Carefully rearranging her shaking arms and legs, he kneeled her on all fours and crawled behind her. “You present so beautifully for your alpha,” Loki purred, “just as a good little mate should. Now raise that lovely rump of your higher. I’m going to fuck you. Mate with you. Drive you into the ground.” He’d placed the reddened tip of his cock at her entrance, and then, he shoved himself up inside her, hard. “Force you to submit to me, beg for my come. You will yowl and cry out and moan, just like a saucy little female of this place would do.”

Mina was gripping the wet earth under her, trying to keep her balance as Loki drove into her with ferocity. She had a feeling he was still displeased - and perhaps the tiniest bit wounded? - by her willingness to believe he was casting her aside. And when his big hand came down on the soft cheeks of her ass with a thunderous “whap!” she was sure of it. Loki was so big in this position - filling her and spreading her so completely that it was hard to tell where she ended and he began. Everything inside her felt pressed aside for his driving cock and it was unimaginably good. He had one hand on her shoulder, shoving her back and forth on his cock, and the other pulling and stroking at her nipples. She could feel the shower of sparks move up her spine, so close to coming! And then the heartless, diabolical God of Lust grabbed her hair and pulled her head up, putting his lips to her ear. 

“Do you see them, pet?” She did - two gigantic creatures were perched on the cliffs across the pond from them, silent, but alert. They were awe-inspiring, something that looked like a cross between a tiger and a bird of prey, massive wings covered in a golden striped fur. Mina’s gasp died in her throat as she stared at the two pairs of golden eyes staring back. “They recognize us, a species dominant to them, higher on the food chain. So they will bear witness as we mate, they will not drink until we leave…” His fingers were moving faster on her breasts, squeezing and plucking at them until he felt her thighs begin to quiver. “Ah … there you are, lovely. You’re so close, aren’t you?” His thrusts were faster, shorter and sharper inside her and Mina was nearly knocked off her knees.

“Please, my King,” she moaned, “please allow me to come!”

He whispered one last, sibilant hiss in her ear. “Come. Now.” And she felt his teeth bite down into her shoulder and every last bit of sense left her, screaming and shaking, moaning as she heard him growl deep in his chest. A warning. A challenge. And the two huge creatures rose gracefully and disappeared back into the jungle as he picked his Mina up and brought her to his home. 

Long after, when Loki had meticulously bathed her limp form and smoothed a glorious-smelling lotion on her sore skin, had brushed her long hair dry and then hand-fed her bites of small and utterly delicious things, Mina finally forced enough brain cells back together to ask a question or two.

“What happened with the last incubus, the one that had me by the throat?” Loki had healed her as his first action when the demon disappeared.

Kissing each of her toes, he looked up at her slyly. “Your blood, lovely. An incubus cannot bear the essence of one pure at heart. Your blood nearly destroyed him, the monster had barely the strength to retreat back to Hel.”

Mina blinked. That was not what she’d been expecting. “I don’t- that’s ridiculous,” she said shyly, “I’m no pure thing.”

Her beautiful, infuriating Valentine gracefully moved over her, knees already between hers and spreading her wider. “Oh, my sweet Mina,” he said in a tone that could only be described as tender. “You are so very, very pure and good. You redeem me.” Loki smiled down as she blinked back tears. “And now, I shall attempt to defile you in a way that only a very, very good girl can be.”

I'm starting over with a vague memory of who might like my Loki and Avengers tales. If you would like on or off this list, please let me know! Thank you. Mwah!

@what-is-your-plan-today

@sweater-daddiesdumbdork

@the-soulofdevil

@americasass81

@mdemontespan1667

@sultry-rachael

@myoxisbroken

@gigglingtiggerv2

@notpedeka

@narnianarcher

@sylviefromneptune

@winterslove1917

@kimanne723

@hawkeyes-queen

@grymrayven

@stevihj

@lizette50

@jevans2

@wolfsmom1

@devikafernando

@wegingerangelica

@nildespirandum

@alexakeyloveloki

@thebatshitcrazyfangirl

@thehumming6ird

@archy3001

@iheartsebastianstan

@tomstinkerbell

@wolfpawn

@rayofdawnworld

@thecutestlittlebunbunfairy

@dangertoozmanykids101

@alexakeyloveloki

@nuggsmum

@boredbrooder

@fairlightswiftly

@inkededucatednnerdy

@nonsensicalobsessions

@viv-annelore

@eleniblue

[brightbeautifulthings]

Hello, lovelies! Tell Me Something Tuesday is a meme created by Rainy Day Ramblings and currently hosted by Because Reading Is Better Than Real Life, That's What I'm Talking About, For What It's Worth, Book Girl of Mur-y-Castell and Offbeat YA. It provides weekly discussion prompts on various book and blogging topics with optional participation. You can sign up for prompts here.

This week’s prompt is: Share some LGBTQ-character books you've recently enjoyed.

Since I've been on a streak of mediocrity in my reading lately, I decided to choose some of my favorite LGBTQ+ novels of all time for this post rather than keeping it strictly recent. (Trust me, these are better.)

L: The Dead and the Dark by Courtney Gould This is both one of my favorite YA horror novels and, coincidentally, one of my favorite wlw romances of all time. It's wonderfully creepy and good on the representation in other ways (mlm and poc), including a Gay Dads ghost hunting show that I fervently wish was a real thing.

G: I'll Give You the Sun by Jandy Nelson I love this book a ridiculous amount, and I've read and reread it enough times to have sections of it memorized. Noah and Brian's mlm romance is hugely complicated by the fact that neither of them are out yet, and it's one of the most beautifully handled mutual pining stories I've ever read--plus gorgeous writing, and lovable, heartbreaking characters.

B: Perfect on Paper by Sophie Gonzales Representation is so important, and I've never felt seen in a novel like I did in this one. I love having a bisexual main character who has both male and female love interests in the story (but no love triangle trope, don’t worry). I’ve read books with bi mc’s before, but never one that so directly addresses bi erasure and not feeling “queer enough” to be in queer spaces.

T: Not Your Villain by C.B. Lee This is technically the second book in the Sidekick Squad series, but you should be reading it anyway for its excellent rep in the cast of main characters. Bells is one of my favorite trans characters ever, complete with cool shapeshifting superpowers and a sweet, heartfelt best friend crush.

Q: Strange Grace by Tessa Gratton This has one of my favorite poly ships ever with the three main characters: Mairwen, the witch, Ruhn, the saint, and Arthur, the outcast. It also includes spooky woods, lurking monsters, a dash of witchcraft, and some complex examinations of gender identities.

I: Across the Green Grass Fields by Seanan McGuire It's hard to go wrong with the Wayward Children series, and McGuire always delivers on the diversity and representation. When Regan faces challenges in being intersex in the human world, she escapes through a doorway to an equine world that accepts her as she is, complete with major Horse Girl vibes, found family, and my personal favorite murder horse, the kelpie.

A: Radio Silence by Alice Oseman Oseman's prose and characters are an absolute delight, and this is one of the most beautiful friendship stories I've ever read, with one of my favorite asexual characters, Aled. I love the way friendships are never discounted as "less" than romance in this book, and there's an excellent celebration and critique of Tumblr/fandom culture.

+: Mask of Shadows by Linsey Miller We know if there's an assassin character to be found anywhere, I'm going to love them the most. Sal is a genderfluid thief who joins an audition to be one of the Queen's Left Hand, a group of the most elite and feared assassins in the kingdom. There's also a clever, worthy love interest in Elise.

[elliebyrrdwrites]

The Rings of Saturn

I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't know why I need to write stories like this. I just do.

I did Theomione and I'm sorry. It just had to happen because I wanted to see how it felt. I like it but Dramione is my main boo, don't worry.

The Rings of Saturn

A Theominoe oneshot.

Theo sat across from his co-worker as they picked through a mediocre lunch from the Ministries café. Cucumbers and tomatoes filled a salad he assembled on his tray as his fork pushed around a single hard-boiled egg.

“Isn’t it weird,” Hermione Granger began as she stared out over the café. “That we have magic, but no wizard has ever been to space?”

Theo lifted his head from the lunch tray and frowned. “Do we know that as a fact?”

Granger shrugged and pushed her tray away, lunch untouched. “I mean, do you know of any wizards turned astrophysicist? They fly on brooms for Godric’s sake.”

Theo huffed out a laugh. “Maybe we could fashion a broom into a rocket and launch one into the skies.”

Granger pursed her lips and focused her eyes onto his. It caused him to shift, uncomfortably in his seat. “Haven’t you ever wondered what’s on the edge of the outside?”

“The Outside?” He cleared his throat. Granger had the tendency to gaze hard into his eyes when she was passionate about something and Theo had the tendency to want to kiss her, sufficiently shutting her up and breathing her words into his lungs. Immortalizing them into his soul.

“Outside of space?” He set his fork down and eyed her. “You mean outside of our galaxy?”

“Well, yes.” She leaned back in her seat and ran her finger along the edge of the lunch tray.

“No?” Theo said but it was ultimately a lie. Of course, at some point or another, he had wondered what all was out there. But he had accepted the reality that they would never know. They couldn’t. It was all just so far away. Too out of reach.

“Do you think that if we applied magic to science, we might find a way to find out?”

Theo opened his mouth to reply but Granger kept speaking. “What if what we found was the past and the future? What if out there is not something more? What if it was everything all over again, everything to come again and again.”

Theo’s brow quirked up, but a smile pulled at the edges of his mouth. “Do you think you could find a way to invent something that would allow us to see into this everything?”

Granger crossed her arms over her chest and pouted. “I don’t know.” She sighed. “Perhaps we could together.”

At this, Theo found himself sitting up straighter. “Together?” He chuckled. “I know nothing of science and I think the Muggles are doing a fine job with all of their nifty robots and telescopes and what not.”

“What about Divination?” She eyed him.

“I, what?” Theo blinked several times. He knew of the witches distaste for the subject.

“What if we created our own potion to help us see, more accurate, that which we cannot know?”

Theo stared at his co-worker, who was subsequently, the most perfect witch he had ever met. Even all of her flaws, like these asesine ideas that led her into belligerent ramblings were enough to cause his heart to soar. What was worse, was that they weren’t stupid or belligerent at all. She was bloody brilliant and Theo worked hard, every day, to remember that she wasn’t his.

But he laughed at her and pushed his chair back. “I think you’ve been working as an Unspeakable for too long, Granger.”

She let out a strangled sort of cry of indignation as she watched him stand. “You think I’m joking.” She finally said, accusingly.

“No, unfortunately,” Theo picked up his tray. “I don’t.” Their lunch hour was coming to a close and he had an interesting piece of metal that arrived through a portal in the middle of Beltany that he had to investigate.

He heard the clatter of her tray and the rush of her footsteps as she came up behind him to despose of her lunch.

“What are you working on right now?” She hissed in his ear, suddenly appearing beside him.

Theo shuddered and jumped back at the feel of her breath against his ear. “What?!”

Her eyes widened, urging him to understand whatever it was he wasn’t saying as she asked again, “What are you working on?”

He shook his head and stepped around her. “You know I cannot tell you that. We’re Unspeakables for fucks sake.”

Her fingers gripped the fabric of his robes and her nails grazed his arm through the fabric. “Come on, Theo. Show me yours and I’ll show you mine.” She crooned and hauled herself closer to him.

Theo stiffened beside her but continued walking towards the exit of the café.

“This is highly inappropriate, Granger.” He sniffed and allowed her to be pulled by him through the hall toward the lifts.

“Yes,” She agreed as they stepped into the lift. Theo was frowning as she remained clinging to him. Perhaps she had seen him as a friend like she saw Potter, someone to chit chat with about books and boys.

Books, he could do but boys? Theo inwardly groaned at the idea.

“We cannot speak what we are working on, even with other Unspeakables. Hence the title, Unspeakables!” Theo whisper yells at her.

“Yes, yes, I know.” She waved her hand, dismissively. “But what if, while working on said projects, we find ourselves unable to continue alone. Or...” She frowns. “There is something that appears to be missing from said project that we think another Unspeakable might have that missing piece?”

Theo scoffed. “I assure you, Granger, I do not have any missing —” He paused and narrowed his eyes in on her. She had leg go of his arm and was leaning against the other side of the lift. “What makes you think this is even a thing?”

“How far have you gotten on your...project?”

“I’ve only just received it today.” He sniffed. “Why, how far have you gotten?”

“I’ve had mine for a little over a week and, well.” She paused, chewed on her bottom lip and Theo watched as her eyes went a little wide and wild. “It’s the strangest thing.” She finished with a whisper.

Theo had to admit he was curious. The idea of something blowing Hermione Grangers mind as he witnesses now was...intriguing.

“You’re just trying to get me interested so that I will crack.”

“Yes!” She rushed forward and grabbed hold of his robes. “Because it should. It is incredibly interesting!”

From this close up, Theo could make out the little flecks of gold in her irises and further more, he realized that she didn’t exactly have brown eyes, but more of a green hazel? Only when she wore her purples robes, that is. Because, when he had lunch with her the other day, he was certain they were brown.

Theo shook his head, dispelling the power of eye gazing and wrapped his hands around hers. “This sounds like a real brain scratcher you have, Granger.”

She nodded but her tongue snaked out and dampened her lower lip. She swallowed and her eyes darted over his face, going fro his eyes, his nose, his mouth.

“I’d love to help you, Granger, I would.” He said, softening his voice. “But we could both get put in jail, or worse, fired!”

Her mouth quirked up in a soft smile and Theo realized, then, that his thumbs were making intimate strokes over her knuckles and her chest was quite literarlly pressed up against his.

Her skin was soft and supple and he thinks he might like to taste it. And maybe he might have, had the lift doors not opened at that moment.

Several people slid in, effectively forcing the two of them apart, and he watched her sink into her corner lip caught between her teeth. But her eyes were distant, far off and thinking, most likely, of the project waiting for her back at her office.

Theo removed his robes and stared at the lump of metal on his desk. It was not so much a lump, but a cuadricular form of a combinations of metals, if he had to guess. Perhaps cobalt chrome, titanium? He couldn’t tell exactly which metals this thing consisted of but it was definitely more than one type. That much was obvious at first glance.

There was something odd about its presence, as it sat under the light of his lamp. It didn’t glow, or make any noise, but there was something...overwhelming, something palpable that caused the hairs on Theo’s arm to stand as he neared it.

There was a real charge in the air, bouncing between his skin and the lump of metal that looked luminescent at certain angles.

Perhaps, Theo thought, it’s a rock from another planet. It arrived, quite mysteriously, with a crack of power shot through a portal in Ireland, in the middle of a circle made of large stones. There are several of these structures around the world, and Theo had to wonder if there were any other unusual occurrences within the numerous other stone circles.

“Well, enough staring at the thing,” Theo muttered to himself. The mysterious piece

was sent here, magically, having landing on his desk with a note informing him of where it was found and when. The note also dictated that he find out exactly what it was composed of, if there was any evidence that it was magical and if so, what does it do and how?

Theo’s right hand reached for the rock and felt the incredible force of some kind of energetic pulse buzzing off of it. However, as his mind stuttered, his hand continued to reach for the stone.

His fingers had only grazed the rock when the vision hit him.

Now, he couldn’t say for certain if it was a vision or the misfiring of his own synapsis as he was possibly electrocuted.

But the cosmos flashed in his his minds eye, beautiful balls of gas that expanded far beyond their galaxy. It was as if his mind had drifted out into space, was floating through it and looking at the beautiful view of the planets and the stars gleaming all around, millions of light years away.

His vision passed through Mars and Jupiter until it settled on Saturn and it’s glorious rings. The light from the sun cast a shadow on part of the rings while shining light on the other and revealed hues of orange and grey and red and he thinks he was meant to reach Saturn.

But the vision was cut short. As if it was incomplete. The journey unable to be made in its entirety.

He knew then, that he should go talk to Granger. Only, he immediately couldn’t bring himself to move away from the rock. He wanted to try again.

He did.

His hands reached for the maybe a rock, maybe a piece of metal and touché the smooth surface. Nothing happened.

With a frown, Theo tried again and again.

He muttered curses and pleas and asked it nicely.

But it wasn’t until his mind wondered through questions that it happened again. Questions like, What is it showing me? Why is it showing me this? Where was it taking me? Why!

He was pulled, like a mental force on his mind, into the journey again. Only, this time, he veered a different way amongst the cosmos. This time, his visions were not just of the plantes and the stars but of nebulas that held something within them. Like answers to his questions, he saw hands. Feminine hands, masculine hands, they held one another. They held wands.

They held magic.

When Theo was pushed from the vision again, he laughed. A maniacal sort of laugh that bubbled up his throat and refused to be kept in.

His hands dug into his hair. He pulled his hair and shook his head.

He was absolutely stunned.

Theo paced the entirety of his office/lab as he considered everything he saw. As a dozen questions continued to assault him. But the one he kept thinking about was the one Hermione had asked him at lunch.

Haven’t you ever wondered what’s on the edge of the outside?

Surely, this meant that whatever Granger was working on was as mind blowing as this was. And perhaps, whatever she saw when she touched the rock took her beyond Saturn and it’s many rings.

What if what she found was something more prophetic? What if it was more magic?

Theo tore from his office minutes later and found himself running down the halls, his tie fluttering at his shoulder. Granger’s office was key coded, as was his and so, unable to just open the door, he began to knock. No, not know. He beat his fists against the door over and over.

Her door swung open just as he put all his force into the next bout of beatings and therefore found himself stumbling into her office, tripping over her in the process.

“Theo!” Granger squeaked and wrapped her arms around his torso.

His hands found her shoulders, but the momentum of his fall was too great. They both fell to the floor. With his body sprawled over hers, she grunted when her ass hit the hard floor.

“Ouch.” She moaned as her arms fell away from his torso and fell to the floor, spread wide.

Theo pushed himself up enough to look down at her. She had one eye squinted open, the other shut as she frowned up at him.

“Are you alright?” He asked, smiling sheepishly.

“Maybe?”

Theo rolled off of her and jumped to his feet. She remained sprawled on her back, arms and legs spread out as her chest moved up and down in rapid succession.

“What’s the matter with you?” Theo peered at her, closely. “Were you running?” He looked around her office/lab. It looked very much like his. It was a sterile room with a large labratory table that also served as a desk.

There weren't many luxuries in the Department of Mysteries, and therefore there wasn’t typically a place to sit comfortably. However, on one far corner of the lab, there was a small two seater couch. There was a blanket thrown over it and a pillow perched on a cushion.

Theo quite liked the idea of putting a couch in his own lab, particularly when the subject matter he was studying or working on was incredibly taxing.

Such as todays.

Recalling why he had barreled into Grangers office, Theo spun and faced the lab table, and realized there was a very similar piece of metal/smooth stone. Only, this one was larger and hollow!

“I was working.” She finally answered from her spot on the floor. “Are you alright?” She frowned up at him as he looked down. “I thought the Fire Brigade had shown up.”

Theo shook his head and held his hand out for her. She slid her hand into his and allowed him to lift her to her feet. She was light, and nimble as she got up.

“What are you doing here, then?” Her eyes suddenly looked alarmed, realizing that they were now breaking a very important rule. They were breaking the contract that they had both signed when agreeing to work as an Unspeakable.

She quickly shut her door and locked it and then turned to press her back into it.

“I -” He stopped and closed his mouth. How did he explain what he saw?

“You have one, too!” She hissed excitedly. She pushed off of the door and pressed her hands into his chest. She didn’t grab at him, like she did in the lift. No, she pressed her entire body into him as she whispered at him. “What did you see?”

Theo’s hands, instinctively, went to her forearms.

“I saw Saturn.”

Her brows furrowed, but she licked her lips with a hunger he knew well. That hunger for more knowledge. More information. More questions to ask. “Saturn? Like the planet?”

Theo nodded. “And a nebula.”

“A nebula?” She looked wild with intrigue. “What else?”

“I saw men and women and wands. I saw magic, Granger! What did you see?” His hands moved to her back. “I know you saw something mind blowing.”

She bit into her lip as she fought a grin. “I did.”

“Tell me!”

But she shook her head. “I cannot tell you.” Her grin grew and her eyes turned devious. “But I can show you.”

Theo stood beside Granger at her lab table and stared down at strange object. It was shaped just like his, except, it was bigger and had a hollow center. As if the piece he had could just slide right in, fitting perfectly.

The energy pulsing from this one was more palpable and Theo surmised it was in direct relation to it’s size.

She was practically bouncing on her toes.

“Tell me where it was found.” Theo demanded.

“In Keswick.” She paused. “Yours?”

“Beltany.” He glanced over at her and she nodded, encouragingly and bit down on her lower lip.

Without further encouragement, Theo reached out and that same charge between his fingers and the object sparked and seemed to draw his hand in, forcing the contact.

Theo was instantly pulled into a similar journey his mind took with the object in his office. But it wasn’t the same. Theo saw beautiful colors spawned from gases and the light reflecting off of it from all of the stars surrounding him.

He was beside himself with joy at the ability to witness such beautiful marvels without being burned or frozen, or imploding!

This journey took him beyond their galaxy and into something much more phenomenal. He got the distinct feeling that he was being pulled into a wormhole of sorts, for everything was only existing around him, and just beyond. But it kept going and going. More stars like their sun were burning balls of gas and around them were beautiful objects floating around them. Other planets! he realized as he continued through the worm hole.

But was there life on those planets? Did magic?

He was nearing the edge of this something. Whatever it was, a wormhole, a tunnel, a journey. And was suddenly pushed out of the vision.

He was breathing hard as he stumbled back from the object.

“What did you see?” Granger’s voice pulled his eyes away from the thing. He saw the light in her eyes and for the first time ever, Theo reacted to his wants and his needs.

He moved and stepped into her, lifting a hand to her cheek.

She sucked in a breath but she didn’t step away from him. Her eyes widened but there was something in her eyes that encouraged him further.

Theo lowered his head and kissed Hermione. Their lips met and just like with the object on the table, energy sparked between them, drawing them together by some otherworldly force.

And just like the object, their kiss took Theo on a journey into something new and beautiful. He hauled her closer to him, molding her against his body as he deepened the kiss.

Her hands moved through his hair, combing and testing the texture before settling at the nape of his neck. The tips of her fingers played with the shorter strands there, as if they had always belonged there.

He continued to cradle her face, his hand sprawling over the curve of her jaw, his thumb grazing her her cheekbone. His other hand pressed into her back and together they journeyed into the unknown of something new, something they had always thought about, but could never see themselves exploring. Just like the cosmos beyond.

When Theo pulled apart to catch his breath, she grinned up at him and pressed her cheek more firmly into his hand.

He smiled back at her and that was when he remembered her plea for them to work together. A potion, she had said once. But what if they didn’t need a potion. What if...?

“I’ll be right back.” He said, still slightly breathless.

Her brows pulled together but she didn’t ask him why, nor protest when he tore from her office.

He was careful to creep back to his office. Once inside, he locked the door and looked for something to put his own object into. The rock, or whatever it was, was about the size of a cat or a small dog. A small Weiner dog, he concluded as he shuffled through drawers. He could find no box nor bag that would contain the item and so, he grabbed his work robes and wrapped it up, carefully not to brush his skin against it.

The fabric of his robes was enough to cancel out the connection that seemed to be there with bare skin.

When he returned to Granger’s office, she opened after the first light tap of his knuckles.

He stepped in and quickly leaned over and kissed her again. Her lips tasted like berry Chapstick and her breath like butterscotch. He wondered if she had a bowl of candy hiding somewhere in here, but didn’t ask.

She looked down at his arms when they pulled apart and grinned at the way his robes were wrapped around his own object.

“You wanted us to work together on trying to find that answers to the unknown. To the everything.”

She nodded. “I’ve always wanted to work with you.”

“Same.” Theo set the object, still wrapped in his robes, onto her table.

There was a more powerful force of something thrumming in the air, now. So much so that it caused Granger to gasp and settle a hand over his arm, holding him back from the two object. They were on opposite sides of the table, now but there seemed to be some sort of subtle vibration occurring and Theo could have sworn that they were demanding to be put together.

Theo patted her hand in reassurance before stepping back up to the table. Carefully, he plucked the fabric of his robes and pulled it off of the item.

Granger stepped, nearly tripping, up to the table when she saw his piece.

“Can I?” She asked, her big brown eyes gazing at the thing like it was magic. Like she had never seen magic before.

Theo nodded and swallowed.

He watched as Granger reached a hand out and brushed against its surface. Her body stiffened and Theo realized this is what he must look like when he went into the visions. Her eyes were wide, but glazed over. Her mouth had parted as her jaws slackened. She remained frozen, like a statue. She barely breathed.

When she stumbled back with a gasp of air, Theo slid his hand around hers and hulled her into his side.

"It's...” she shook her head, and looked up at him in wonder. There was a hint of something in her eyes that looked like more than wonder. It looked like she had been touched by the hands of the gods. “The hands...”

She smiled a soft smile and then pulled her wand from her pocket. “Get yours.” She said and so he did. Together, with their wands in hand, their hands wrapped around one another.

“We need to join them.” Theo told her, matter-of-factly.

“By sliding yours into mine.” Granger said and immediately blushed at the innuendo.

“Essentially,” Theo grinned. “Yes.”

They stared at the pieces and hesitated for just a moment. Their hands each slid onto the pieces and braced themselves for the visions to bombard them. But they didn’t and Theo thinks it might have been because of their wands or their hands holding onto one another.

Their eyes met and Theo nodded while Granger smiled.

They moved the pieces close together, the pulsing of energy between them was strong, it was magnetic! as they practically glided across the table toward one another.

They kept their hands connected with their wands tangled into their fingers and their other hands on the metallic objects as they slid into place. The smaller one glided into the bigger, hollow one and as it settled there was a satisfying click as they melded into one another. It was quickly overshadowed as their bodies were struck by the visions that bombarded them.

In Theo’s minds eye, he could feel Granger beside him in the cosmos that was full of stars and gasses and magic. But it was more than that.

It was everything.

[pahichannel]

I Unbox Things and Ramble About Them #1: Otomedius Excellent

What a bizarre move it was for Konami to release this title exclusively for the Xbox 360, a game infamous for its extreme lack of Japanese support and anime titles. What's even stranger is us getting it in the west. Otomedius is a pun on "Otome", meaning maiden in Japanese and Gradius, a popular space shooting game... which pretty much sums up the entirety of this game; cute girls go pew pew.

I picked up the collector's edition when it was being purged from Gamestop for next to nothing who knows how many years ago. It comes with an artbook, soundtrack and pillow sheet. Although the binding makes it near impossible to open the artbook any reasonable amount, the illustrations are quite striking. The pillow sheet is perhaps the most amusing addition, with one side featuring the game's main protagonist Aoba and the other featuring a collection of the cast.

I do vividly remember playing as the girl shown on the top-left of the pillow sheet. Ahoge + eyepatch + big bow = best girl on principle. For as cute as the game is though, that's the strongest thing going for it as I remember it being nothing but an extremely mediocre title, much preferring the likes of Deathsmiles and Trouble Witches Neo at the time.

[acacia-may]

Ooo for the WIPs; what are the Time Next gen fics 👀? And the Vanessa’s father one? Those sound interesting 🥰!

Hi Lyra! It's so nice to hear from you. Thank you so much for your ask and for your interest in my wips, dear! 💕

I will confess that I haven't worked on any of my Black Clover Next Gen fics in a while (I have one, Portals and Potatoes) that has been in progress on AO3 since last year that I really need to go back to one of these days), but I am very fond of the two with "Time" in the titles (which are both from the same "Future Problems" series).

"Crossing the Time Line" is Spatial Brothers-centric. Kalon, Finral's time-traveling son in my AU, accidentally sends his father and Uncle Langris (who get along now) back to the Royal Knights Exam which they have to try their best to recreate without anyone finding out they are from the future--shenanigans ensue.

"Find Me In Time" is more angsty and serious in tone and is about the next generation of magic knights (mostly everyone's kids plus a few others) especially the Black Bulls squad when Yami's son, Katsu, is the captain. In a desperate attempt to retreat from a terrible battle with a Zogratis descendant (A/N: do not ask me which Zogratis the villain is related to--I honestly never thought about it because I don't wanna know lol), Kalon accidentally brings his captain several members of his squad [including Henry's daughter, Summer, Gauche and Grey's daughter, Mira, and Asta & Noelle's son, Kai], his best friend, Anni Boismortier (Charmy & Rill's daughter who is on the Aqua Deer), and his sister, Lia, (who is in the Golden Dawn) to safety in the past for a short respite in which they are comforted by their (young) parents.

As a bonus (to end on a happier note), "Captain Magna" is also a Next Gen story about the next generation Black Bulls squad but it takes place earlier (or in a different timeline) when Magna is the Black Bulls' captain. Trying to get his squad back to their base, Kalon accidentally takes them to the Black Bulls' hideout nearly two decades in the past where they are discovered by (canon-age) Magna and Luck. It's all lighthearted shenanigans.

The "Vanessa's Father" fic is one I would really love to come back to someday, but it became such a big (multi-chapter) project that I think I got a little intimidated and had to leave it for a while after it hit around 5,000 words. In briefest summary, Vanessa finds her biological father, Cyril Swann (OC), and agrees to meet him. Most of the story is told through flashbacks in which Cyril explains how he came to have Vanessa and, ultimately, was (forcibly) separated from her by the Queen of Witches.

I'll put the basic backstory and also a snippet from the wip under the cut since I'm not sure how to explain more without a lot of ramblings. 😅 (Warnings: mentions really unhealthy arranged marriage for the purpose of producing children only)

Vanessa's father, Cyril, grew up as the youngest child of the House of Swann, a lower-tier noble house in the Clover Kingdom. His family's only claim to fame was their mediocre wind magic, and the fact that Cyril's older sister, Channary, married into the Noble House of Sandler (eventually becoming the mother of Alecdora). Cyril is the only member of the Swann family in nearly a century not to have wind magic, having inherited string magic from his mother (who was specifically chosen to marry into the family because her magic was so weak it was not suspected to be passed down to the children). Cyril was close to his mother whose name was also Vanessa, but after she dies, he is treated as an outsider by his father and three older siblings: Cecil, Crispin, and Channary, as his string magic is considered fairly useless by everyone including Cyril himself who mainly uses it to change the strings on his violin.

Cyril lives next-door to Finral's (eventual) mother, Calia, who is his dearest friend and like a sister to him. Calia has what is considered a weak "summoning magic" that lets her move things with her mind (both in her line of sight and by picturing them), but it attracts the attention of the Noble House of Vaude and a marriage is arranged between her and the current heir, Ledior (like with Cyril's parents, the hope is that Calia's magic will be so weak that it won't prevent the Vaude spatial magic from being passed down to any children). Calia is a very sweet, if a bit naive, young lady and a talented pianist who loves to play accompanied by Cyril's violin (she considers him quite talented when Cyril just thinks of himself as mediocre). They also love to have tea in Calia's garden and to play with Cyril's cat, Reddington.

Shortly after Calia's marriage is arranged, one of Cyril's elder brothers, Crispin, trespasses in the Forest of Witches thereby breaking a treaty between the Witch Queen and the Clover Kingdom. Her Majesty the Queen of Witches is going to have him executed for breaking the treaty until Lord Swann (Cyril's father) negotiates with her and basically gives her Cyril/his hand in marriage in exchange for Crispin's release since she's interested in his string magic. The Witch Queen wants the power to control destiny, and with her Future Sight Magic, she has been able to see the future in which her daughter, Vanessa, exists, has the power to control fate, and uses a string-like magic. Having this power over destiny is far more important to the Witch Queen than her hatred of men so Her Majesty essentially wants to use Cyril to have Vanessa and then agrees to let him go.

Cyril eventually fancies himself in love with Her Majesty (and calls her Regina ("Queen") even though he isn't entirely sure if that is even her real name), so he agrees to the arrangement, marries her, and never feels forced into the relationship or into having children. Even though their "relationship" is cold, business-like, and more than a little problematic, Cyril tries his best to make it work and get Her Majesty to love him but, of course that doesn't work out. Her Majesty pities him, but that is really as much affection as she is capable of. [A/N: Their dynamic is very much "I Love You (As Much As Someone Like Me Can Love Anyone)" (YouTube) Warnings: some language and a few spicier/suggestive jokes in that song].

Eventually they have Vanessa together, and Cyril loves his daughter dearly, more than he could have imagined he could love anyone. He is actually the one who names her--naming her Vanessa after his beloved mother. His daughter is Cyril's pride and joy, but Her Majesty thinks he is a bad influence (being a man and all) so she tries her best to keep them separated from each other until eventually she kicks him out of the Forest of Witches altogether after Vanessa presents with her magic meaning the Queen has no more use for him. He isn't sure what happened exactly: one night he fell asleep in the Forest of Witches, the next night he woke up back in his old room at House Swann. The forest is well hidden so he could never find it again and even if he could, Her Majesty would never let him back in and he wouldn’t be able to break through her magical barrier (that Asta eventually breaks through his anti-magic).

When Cyril gets back to Clover, several years have passed. In that time, his best friend, Calia, has died from complications giving birth to Finral (and her husband has remarried quickly which doesn’t sit right with him). Cyril’s eldest brother, Cecil, died in the line of duty as a magic knight, and his other elder brother, Crispin, (who is kind of responsible for this whole mess in the first place) has taken over House Swann as next in line, but he can’t/doesn’t want to run anything so Cyril has to step in & actually keep their House going behind the scene (all the logistical things like making sure servants get paid, money is properly invested ect.). He spends his most of his days being touted around and shown off by his family (seeing as he’s technically a ‘prince consort’). Cyril is a very unpretentious and straight-forward person who hates the limelight, but his older brother and sister, Crispin and Channary, are not above using him and his status as a ‘prince consort’ to further their own standing & influence. Though Cyril tries to explain, nobody quite understands (or wants to understand) that he isn’t actually a prince consort so, unfortunately for him, he gets dragged around to a lot of fancy dinners and noble parties he doesn’t want to be at where sycophants try to suck up to him and/or try to arrange marriages with the daughter they’ve heard he has. [A/N: I actually played around with the idea of him ending up at a party at House Vaude at one point and running into a tiny Finral & Langris, but never did anything with it].

Eventually, Cyril reaches a certain breaking point where he just retreats from the public eye and tries to live a quiet life with his cat(s) while missing his daughter terribly and playing a lot of sad violin music, which is how no one has ever really heard of him before. House Swann was always a lower tier Noble House on the outskirts of the Noble Realm anyway so he was quickly and easily forgotten. He visits his sister & his nephew, Alecdora, from time to time, but he does not get out much.

Cyril is very heartbroken over losing his daughter and has never really forgiven himself for having to leave Vanessa, even though he didn't have a choice. Cyril suspected that Vanessa was in Clover and heard rumors about a powerful magic knight from the Forest of Witches with the power to control destiny, but he felt like he didn’t have the right to just show up out of nowhere and infringe on her life. He thinks she probably hates him for abandoning her and being absent and that there isn’t anything he can do to make it up to her, so he just lets it be and leaves her alone.

Eventually, however, he runs into Langris at a party hosted by Cyril's nephew and Langris' squad mate, Alecdora, and Langris recognizes Cyril's unique magic. After talking to him, he sort of puts together that he must be related to Vanessa and mentions it to her. Vanessa debates it for a little bit but eventually reaches out to Cyril and asks if they can meet. He explains the whole story, and Vanessa realizes that they're both victims of Her Majesty and that she has always been connected to him.

Now, there might be an author-given, actual reason why Vanessa’s fate power presents as a cat but in this story, but for this backstory, I kind of linked it back to her dad in a way. The strings are his power after all & even if this fate manipulation is combination magic (her majesty’s future sight + dad’s strings), it is powered by love. It’s the strong bonds she has with her Black Bulls family that help her unlock it, but in my mind (in this universe anyway) there might be something subconscious there where she’s pulling on a happy memory & bonds she doesn’t quite remember with a father who loves her which is why Rouge looks like her father's cat, Reddington (I was a little worried that naming the cat “Reddington” would be a bit on the nose though...)

Cyril and Vanessa reconcile and start to rebuild their relationship and really become part of each other's lives. Cyril would have been a wonderful father if he had been given the chance, but Her Majesty stole that from him. I like to think that going forward they get to have a close bond with each other, and if Vanessa ever has children, Cyril becomes a wonderful grandpa to them.

But I think I have rambled enough about all of this. 😅 Here's a small snippet from a scene that takes place when Vanessa is very little and Cyril is still in the Forest of Witches (and sneaking out to see her).

WIP SNIPPET:

“Papa!” Vanessa called to him excitedly before Cyril held a finger to his lips and shushed her gently—carefully tiptoeing over to the small bed which had recently replaced her crib. Since Her Majesty did not want him to spend a lot of time with her—often citing the corruption that would likely accompany a more masculine influence, Cyril had used to sneak out in the middle of the night to curl up next to his daughter’s cradle. Now that his little girl was getting older, however, he was having to find more creative ways to sneak out to visit her when Regina was too preoccupied with other things to care to stop him. After all, Cyril was sure she saw everything in her Forest and especially in her own palace so there was no hiding from her, but there was definitely a hierarchy to her concerns so he learned to schedule his visits around those. Now, for instance, it was very late, and Regina was holding court. She wouldn’t be bothered with coming to stop him from playing with his daughter. 

“How are you, Nessie?” he whispered with a bright smile as he gave her a gentle kiss on the top of her head. 

Vanessa beamed at him. “Happy.” 

“I’m glad.”  

“You are happy, Papa?” she asked, slipping her tiny hand into his. 

It was probably her favorite question, and like always, he smiled and assured her, “Of course, I’m happy. I’m with you” before he kissed her cheek causing her to giggle and laugh. Cyril stifled his own laughter so as not to draw too much unnecessary attention—a bit difficult seeing as Vanessa’s constant cheerfulness and beaming smile were simply infectious. Cyril remembered fondly that even when she was still a baby, Vanessa had this way of staring at a person with a bright smile until they smiled back at her—almost like a little game, as if she wanted everyone around her to be happy. When she got older, she took to asking them outright. 

Before he could say anything more, Reddington jumped up into bed curling up next to Vanessa with a contented purr. The otherwise grumpy cat was particularly protective of the little princess, though Cyril was sure he would deny it if he was able. Even so, he was often snuggled up next to Vanessa relishing her attention and adoration—until she playfully pulled on his tail, that is, causing him to yelp and hiss before Cyril once again reminded her how to pet him gently and soothed him with an extra helping of catnip. Reddington purred again as Vanessa pet his soft fur. 

“Happy, Red?” she asked—tilting her head as if genuinely waiting for the cat’s response. The cat mewed, and Vanessa smiled, seemingly pleased with this answer. 

“I have something new to show you,” said Cyril, taking a seat at his daughter’s bedside. 

“New amimals?” Her eyes seemed to light up when she asked, and Cyril nodded. Vanessa was always delighted by the little dolls and animals he made for her to play with out of his thread magic, particularly when Reddington had tired of them or was off sulking somewhere and no longer wanted to play. When Cyril wasn’t able to visit her, he was thinking of new things he could create and practiced making them with his magic. He had actually gotten pretty good at making them move as well, entertaining her with kittens that arched their backs, puppies that wagged their tails, fish that wiggled their fins, and little birds that flapped their wings causing Vanessa to giggle with glee for hours. 

Vanessa’s eyes widened in wonder as Cyril held out his hands to her, forming his threads into the shape of a cow that moved its head up and down as if it was grazing in a pasture. 

“What’s this?” she asked curiously. 

“It’s called a cow. They make a silly sound: 'moo’,” he demonstrated, and his heart could have melted as his little girl burst into laughter and stared up at him with wide, joyful eyes. Her violet eyes were the one feature she had inherited from him. Cyril couldn’t help but wonder if someday when she got older, if he was no longer around, she might look at herself in the mirror and wonder where those eyes had come from and think of him, if only just for a moment. The thought caused his chest to ache and filled him with an unbelievable sadness, but he knew it was only a matter of time before Regina dissolved their arrangement. 

[keeper-not-hero]

Hi hewwo :3 Destiny is feeling kinda cool but there's so much it's uhh overwhelming

It's not THAT overwhelming unless you're talking about the lore then yeah it kinda absolutely is but anyway here's my rambling Buy Guide to Destiny 2 (unless your question about it being overwhelming was something ELSE then come to my DMs so I can properly talk to you Anon, I swear I don't bite. <3)

Do you like creepy aesthetics and some weapons that MIGHT get reworked soon and be actually useful again (bungie i am on my hands and knees BEGGING FOR A NEW PERK POOL FOR LOUD LULLABY THAT HAND CANNON IS PURE SEX) also the worst raid in the game with the best raid exotic in the game (i hate garden i hate garden i hate garden)? Go Shadowkeep

Do you like the sound of really good ice powers, a mediocre campaign, a REALLY cool and easy raid, and some pretty okay weapons whose aesthetic I'm not really into? Beyond Light!

Do you like an actually decent (not great, *decent*, but i mean world-shattering for destiny ngl) campaign, some pretty good exotics, a more expanded crafting system, and if you buy the "DuNgEoN PaSsSsSsSs" two ACTUALLY incredible pieces of destiny content (also spire of the watcher, cowboy hats)? Go Witch Queen

Don't buy the Forsaken pass unless you're REALLY invested or REALLY want to do Last Wish, which is the most complex raid in Destiny's history and really fun but oh my god i'd never EVER do it legit i'd just use the wish wall

and the 30th anniversary thing has some cool stuff but honestly it's pretty skippable, don't buy unless the cosmetics and dungeon entice you, it's a cool dungeon with decent loot and the armor is niche but REALLY fashionable, plus you'll get Gjallarhorn.

[kaylor]

what do you think are the worst worst lyrics in Lover and Rep? from mines is more on the just mediocre and BAD side in Gorgeous when she sings "cause look at your FACE!!!" i cringe every single time taylor sweetie this is not you. and from Lover...the entire song 'i forgot that you existed' i hate it i hate it so much cannot believe its the album opener

ohhhhhhh thank you for this opportunity to be a bitch <3

they're burning all the witches even if you aren't one (awkward, clunky)

all of gorgeous. sorry i know she's a fun drunk lesbian anthem but it's also bad.

i want to wear his initial on a chain round my neck chain round my neck not because he owns me but cause he really knows me which is more than they can say (AWFUL what are you? 12?)

walking with his head down i'm the one he's walking to (like....ok? it just sucks as a lyric)

all of the man (fucking abomination of a song, still bops tho)

all the king's horses, all the king's men couldn't put me together again (ok i understand what she was going for with the never grew up, disillusioned fairy tale theme but it's just a bit awk)

he got that boyish look that i like in a man

maathp (i don't Hate the lyrics i just think the general vibe and execution is Bad)

london boy (jail time)

yntcd (as above)

put you in jail for something you didn't do/it's so excruciating to see you low (most of afterglow is very clunky and ill fitting which sucks because i like the vibe and production actually)

it's morning now, it's brighter now, now! but it's golden!! golden!!!!!! you gotta step into the daylight and let it go (sorry i just hate it. the daylight lyrics are so.... fucking cringe. sorry!!!!)

you may have noticed i didn't put anything from iftye and me but uh. confession. i honestly think most of the lyrics in iftye are actually quite fun and clever and they flow really well but as a song it's just so bad, literally her worst album opener & i can't get away from how insincere/disingenuous it sounds considering what we know about this woman's inability to be indifferent towards literally anything. it sounds like she's trying really hard to write a song about her narrative and it just does not work at all. wow so meta.

and me also doesn't have any actually Bad lyrics, like within the framework of a bubblegum pop song every line is snappy and does what it's supposed to. love or hate the song, but the verses slap. arguably "baby that's the fun of me/you can't spell awesome without me" is horrific but in the context of the song anything deeper would just sound dumb lol. it's in the songs where she allows herself more freedom and tries to be deep that she tends to get a bit lost (cornelia street and daylight, even though CS doesn't have anything that stands out as bad it's mostly just very middling and rambly). folkmore has some moments like this too but far less than on lover, she really improved SO much lyrically in between these releases.

[wh6res]

Delusional, 1, 21, Chenle please. I’m not sure if I have to specify the reader’s gender but it’d be great if it was male or gender neutral, thanks! Also, if there was another delusional, 1, 21, Chenle that was me, I forgot to add in the details, sorry.

what friends are for | chenle

synopsis. chenle is done playing nice.

warning. yandere themes, swearing, character death, rip chensung

your family may not be in the same level of wealth from his—the zhongs are damn near considered royalty!—but money never hindered your friendship with the heir. never once paying heed to the nasty side glances thrown your way whenever you're invited to sit at their table during soireés or charity events.

“thank you, really, mr. zhong, but my family—”

“well, bring them over here too! the more the merrier!”

and if there was one thing chenle’s parents liked about you, it was how family-oriented you seem to be. wanting to stick by your older brothers and sisters side. it just so happens that the zhongs treasure that principle the most.

blood is thicker than water.

so it was within these reasons why chenle, for the fucking life of him, doesn’t understand why you let that other brat into your little duo—park jisung wasn’t even in the same social class as the two of you!

you met him during this dance class you attended in downtown seoul. you had begged your mother to attend, and after she obliged, begged chenle to come with you. but no, while you may possess a compassionate nature, not at all minding the status quo, your childhood best friend, however, does not.

“oh, come on, lele. it’ll be fun!”

“i mean—i just don’t see the point of having to drive downtown for dance classes when we can just attend here! the choreographers are more world-renowned than those no-names you’ll meet in downtown.”

oh, how badly he wished he had agreed to come instead. or else you wouldn’t’ve met that middle-class peasant, wouldn’t’ve forced chenle to play nice, to smile through his annoyance as he nodded and waved at the boy you introduced to him.

“hey, i’m park jisung! i’ve heard all about you and your family here in the upper east, by the way. never thought i’d be meeting you, but here we are! let’s be good friends!”

if it weren’t for your sparkling eyes, chenle would’ve spat at the hand the other kid was offering. but instead…

“thanks, i guess? i’m chenle! and sure, i’d love to be friends.”

the agreement was movies after class at chenle’s place—it was what you texted in your little group chat with him and jisung. but when you arrived at the zhong’s estate after finishing up your extracurriculars, their helpers had quickly stated that the young master has yet to come home.

you had turned around to observe the row of cars in the zhong’s front yard, quickly noticing his red tesla is nowhere to be seen.

after bidding a quick goodbye to the butler who had answered the door, you quickly spun in your heels. trekking your way back to your chauffeur pulled up on the circular driveway, annoyance radiating off you.

jisung isn’t even here yet! and it was already fifteen minutes past the scheduled time. he’s hardly ever late.

just as your driver opens his mouth to ask what happened, the obvious frown and distress on your features is enough explanation for him, so he remains quiet as he waits for your instructions.

you pull out your phone to check if you accidentally missed any messages from either of the two boys, quickly finding that no, there wasn’t. no text or calls about sudden changes of plans from either of them.

until your phone chimes. a new message.

jwi-sUng, 6:29PM — yo chenle said lets watch at my dorm instead — see yuh

stupid. it was so stupid of you not to realize the signs. jisung is never late in his entire life, that boy is as punctual as he can get. and he’ll never use words like “yo” or “yuh” because… because, those were chenle’s texting style. and when you came inside jisung’s house, it should’ve struck you why the house is so quiet, why the house didn’t smell like ms. park’s cooking, why it was chenle himself that answered the door.

“ji and i have been waiting for you!” he cheers, slinging an arm over your shoulder before practically dragging you into the house.

“i came to your place and you weren’t there! either of you could’ve sent me a text or some—”

you stop rambling when you see the state of their living room. the couch is torn, the tv’s screen is cracked, porcelain vases smashed into a million pieces, tables overturned. it looks like a storm surged through the whole place and you’re now witnessing the aftermath.

but a storm didn’t do this. not when your eyes have zeroed in on jisung and his mom tied up in the middle of the room, men in suits guarding every window and exit of the house. some of them you’ve seen trailing behind chenle and his parents. the zhong’s bodyguards. brutes with no heart whatsoever, doing whatever the powerful family asks them to do.

“chenle. what… what’s the meaning—”

“i’m done playing nice. all i want is you. all i’ve ever wanted was you.”

he spat like poison as you stand immobile before the scene in front of you. the heir never thought he’d get a kick from seeing your face contorted with fear and confusion. but it did. and he basked in it.

you waited patiently for the punchline. for one of them to say ‘gotcha!’ but when your eyes met jisung’s fearful ones, you knew this wasn’t any sick joke they came up with to prank you. nope. this is as real as the hand chenle uses to push your hair away from your face as he stands before you, breaking the eye contact you have with the dancer.

“oh, come on…” he pouts cutely, looking out of place in a trashed up apartment. “i’m the one that isn’t tied up and you still don’t pay attention to me?”

“chenle, what’s going on?”

he laughs boisterously and you can’t help but wonder how more witch-like it sounded rather than the usual, innocent dolphin’s.

“i have everything i want,” he boldly claims, pacing before you, the cheap fluorescent lights of jisung’s home accentuates the harsh angles of his face. “money’s a given. power, too. with just those two, i can have the whole world at the palm of my hand—”

“let them go.”

you flinch when two burly men in suits start closing in on you from both sides. hands darting forward to grab both of your arms, until chenle gave them a hard stare, to which both retreated immediately. you understood what that look meant. no, not yet.

“geez… at least humor me, why don’t you?”

you don’t answer him.

“right,” he starts again, freezing you in place when he makes a beeline towards the dancer. “i have everything i want. well, used to. until this peasant came and ruined what we already have.”

jisung squirms and when he feels a cold circular barrel nudging the top of his head and his mom looks like she is ready to pass out. cold sweat starts building up in your forehead. you don’t know how you can get the three of you out of the house alive but if playing dumb can prolong your thinking time, then so be it.

“i don’t get it—”

“of course, you don’t!” you flinch, eyes trained on your ex-best friend and the gun he’s holding. “you’ve always been so sheltered, so naive, always hiding behind your older brothers and sisters to even realize what’s happening.”

“lele, please. just drop the gun first, we can all just talk this out—”

“see what i mean? naive!”

your heart shatters at the tiny whimper jisung lets out when the gun digs a little too much against his head.

“ever since you met this brat, you keep dragging him to our hangouts, trying to make him a part of our little party,” the heir explains through gritted teeth as he glares at you. “and you know what makes it worse? park jisung can’t fucking offer you anything other than a mediocre life. is that what you want?”

“jisung’s my friend. he doesn’t have to fucking offer me anything.”

he giggles like a madman. “oh, baby, i don’t think jisung feels the same way you do, though. have you ever seen the way he looks at you?”

and when your eyes flicker down to meet the dancer’s, the truth has never been more obvious when he fails to meet your eyes.

chenle clicks his tongue patronizingly as he pats jisung’s shoulder to feign comfort, before tossing the gun to one of his bodyguards standing behind him. “well, getting friendzoned sucks.”

“this isn’t a fucking joke—”

you yelp in surprise when the heir delivers a swift punch to jisung’s stomach. the boy bending in pain through the makeshift gag tied over his mouth.

“you’re right. it isn’t.”

you force yourself not to cower as chenle menacingly starts to approach you. a stoic expression on his face and you wonder for a moment, when did all of this even started?

“it is no joke that i love you—the one thing that i can’t have, the one thing so close, just an arm’s length away but still feels so far. but not anymore.”

you don’t where you manage to get the confidence nor the courage to blurt out what you were about to say next, but you regretted it all the same.

“this isn’t love. obsession, possessiveness, or infatuation is fucking far from love.”

the two consecutive sounds of a gunshot was deafening to the ears, but the heir supposes nothing can beat your screams as you fought against the arms of his guards, trying to get to the two people lying immobile in their own home.

“doing everything for this one person, is that not one of the criteria to say you love someone?”

chenle ignores the nasty spit you threw that’s dribbling down his expensive shoes. you’ll pay for that, one way or another. but that day is not today.

“jisung was our friend, you psychopath! this is insanity! you’re fucking crazy!”

when you try biting the hand that comes up to caress your face, one of his guards knees you in the gut. chenle wishes you didn’t have to force his hand, didn’t have to do this the hard way, but you leave him with no choice.

“you’re wrong. i’m not crazy—i’m just… in love. i did this out of love, i’m doing this out of love.”

[hootcifer]

talking about toh | season two, episode four: keeping up a-fear-ances

i ytfugijkvcghdt what

previous | first | next spoilers under the cut, as always

the beginning

my goodness that owl thing is terrifying! i think we saw it briefly in that one promo but still!

young eda is back!

honestly, i thought eda ran away from home after she was cursed. i guess i was wrong.

when the healing coven dude gives eda the gem and says it's in style for young witches, i'm reasonably sure that's a reference to the fact that her gem wasn't originally meant to be an indicator of her curse. if i'm correct, that idea didn't even come about until "the intruder".

i love how eda has a poster in her room for rats, clearly a paridy of the musical cats. musical theatre nerd eda? anyone?

i'll talk more about this later, but we finally get to meet eda's mom! i like how she isn't painted as good or evil, just in between. she also seems to share eda's distaste for the coven system (though not as severe).

so even eda doesn't know where the door to the human realm came from, huh? interesting.

it doesn't look like eda's nickname came from her mom, or from lilith, since they both call her "edalyn" a majority of the time. did she start going by eda in school? did it come from her dad? did it come from somewhere else? huh?

the plot

i think it's kinda neat how eda's gold fang isn't actually meant to be a tooth replacement. it just makes her look cool. very on-brand for eda.

we now have confirmation-- more or less-- as to how the elixir tastes. apparently it's gross.

big fan of eda's new outfit. very much her style.

when eda said "beans" i thought she said "memes".

i love some of the visual humor in this show. the tea leaves "shrugging" made me giggle.

poor luz, she really wants to see her mom again. i can't imagine what that's like given that my mom is mediocre at best and makes me feel like shit a lot of the time but that must really suck. oops, sorry, too personal? let's move on.

i am a huge fan of how much closer eda and lilith seem to be now. they aren't enemies anymore, and that's great.

so witches can't detatch their limbs unless they're cursed? for some reason i thought that was universal.

okay, now we can talk about mrs. clawthorne. i saw her in the trailer, and i knew she wasn't eda because of her palisman. as a matter of fact, it's interesting that all three known clawthornes have bird palismans (palismen?). "escape of the palisman" reveals that not every palisman is a bird. is it a coincidence? is it a family tradition? i'm leaning more toward the latter.

but wow, gwen clawthorne. right off the bat i knew there would be people simping for her. i mean, people simp for both of her daughters, so it only makes sense. now, i'm ace, so i don't know much about milf, but does this make her a gilf? since she'd the mother of two milfs? (or are they still milfs if i don't want to--? never mind.)

i was expecting to dislike gwen, but i honestly ended up enjoying her character. sure, she can be a bit... much... but she loves her daughters.

oh, here's an odd detail. both gwen and eda's names end with "lyn", but lilith's doesn't. coincidence? no?

i would love to hear gwen's "strong words" for belos. let him get told off by an old lady!

aww, poor lilith just wants her mom to acknowledge her. it's not fun being the least favorite. i feel you on that one, lily. the older child is always less favored.

canon confirmation that lilith dyes her hair! i think dana said she did in an ama but now it's truly canon.

i knew something was fishy with wartlock from the beginning. there is no way he could have been legit.

i feel so bad for king. now that he knows he has a dad out there, all he wants in the world is to find him. poor thing.

what the hell is "knife season"?! is that a thing?

not gonna lie, i thought king and lilith got drunk off that ice cream. or maybe they did, and i'm just that bad at recognizing that stuff.

also, loving the lilith-king development. always great when two characters bond over angst.

"you know things are bad when hooty is the voice of reason." ~me, to my friend

honestly, a jar of bees would certainly help me with existential dread. i love bees.

i can't say i'm surprised that gwen's "cure" was just a bunch of made up bs. there's no way they could heal eda so early in the season.

gotta say, owl beast lilith looks dope.

i'm really happy that gwen learned to listen to eda. that's not something every mother learns.

i noticed that gwen was from the beastkeeper coven since we saw her in the promo, because i'd recognized the logo on her arm, but i think her controlling the bees was really cool. maybe i know what coven i would join. then again, i'm pretty much with eda on the "covens bad individualism good" front.

also, it looks like badassery runs in the family just as much as bird palismen do.

can we start a petition to help morton stay in business? he deserves it.

it was really interesting to see eda's point of view when she's the owl beast. it looks like she has to fight with the creature from the beginning for dominance over her own body.

the end

hoo boy. h o o b o y .

okay, let's start at the beginning. of the end. okay.

first of all, it shatters my heart into pieces that lilith is going to live with her mom now. i was just growing to like her, too.

and poor hooty! he found someone who considered him a real friend, only to have her ripped away just three episodes later. i hope she comes back soon.

is episode five going to be the episode where we find out that amity works at the library? (don't answer that, it's a rhetorical question.)

okay, now let's get to the real mind-boggling part: false luz. what--or who--the heck is she?! i've seen a lot of theories about that, ever since we saw the letters at the end of "enchanting grom fright", and we have options. i'll go more into those in the next section.

predictions

belos being behind this new false luz makes a lot of sense, since he's the main bad guy as of now. it's the most likely theory for now, but i feel like it's a bit too predictable.

eda was an option before, but now that she has no powers or access to the human realm, that's off the table.

i've seen theories about amity being behind it, but i suggest a new (and probably false) one.

what about the twins? it could be a situation similar to gwen's determination to heal eda's curse. ed and em seem to care about their sister (more or less), so it makes sense that they would do anything for her to be happy, and for her to be with the person that makes her happy-- even if it means trapping said person in a realm that isn't her own. besides, they're both in the illusions track, and from what we've seen they're very good at it. what if they're the ones who made false luz? i don't know if illusions can interact with things around them, like false luz does with the tissue box, but maybe advanced ones can? also, can you cast illusions in the human realm without a portal? out of all of guesses so far it's probably the least likely, but it's still an interesting concept.

on the topic of illusionists, we also have gus as a suspect. however, we can tell when he's controlling illusions, so surely we would have seen it by now. that does provide an argument against the blight twins being the culprits, but they are both older and more experienced. i'm sure their expertise in their track is similar to amity's in the abominations track, if their parents' expectations of them are anything like their expectations of amity. maybe skilled illusionists can control their illusions with their minds alone? or they can create semi-sentient illusions?

okay, that's enough crazed conspiracy-theorist rambling for today. see y'all next week for episode five!

[snootsnooter]

Unpopular opinions but AHS seasons coven, roanoke, and the later half of apocalypse are... very boring.

Idk man just the stuff they were doing with the witches was?? so painfully boring and uninteresting, legit how do you make witches boring... I won’t deny that there wasn’t potential, but it feels like they just didn’t know what to do with it half the time and fumbled with it the rest, ESPECIALLY in covens case. Idk it lead to a very boring and mediocre watch that felt like I was reading an edgy teens clumsily written fanfic.

Rambles in the tags

[femininefreyanyctophile]

This is my dragon hoard and maybe there's some gold in here.

I am smol (minor) but people think I'm a 18 year old from the way I talk lol

This dragon is a girl and may or may not also be a lesbian witch (she is one)

But istg if you throw any porn at me I will punch you into Rigel

I may sometimes reblog artistic nudity or (text) hornyposts so be aware

On the treasure pile you may also find: funny stuff, trans stuff, gay stuff, cats, and my current favorite Fandom. if you don't like it go find another dragons den

DNI: Porn rebloggers, terfs, nazis, witch hunters

Please don't use bro or dude when referring to me

Makin ma own religion 𖤐

i have a cohost (same url) and some other SocMedia too (Im usually FreyaOnAPegasus), most notably newgrounds as a hidden failsafe if my parents find out about my other SocMedia

#Dumb Witch rambles i say stuff that may be personal

#Mediocre Witch rambles i say some things for the sake of saying them and they may not be researched correctly

#Smart Witch rambles oc posts i researched and they will be more high quality

#Summoning the Posessed Poasts that are definitley not brain vomit or horny

[feminist-propaganda]

Single Mothers Will Probably Cry During Every Episode Of  Queen’s Gambit - Episode 1

I’ll start this long piece with a quote by Toni Morrisson. She once said : “If there's a book that you want to read, but it hasn't been written yet, then you must write it.”

After watching Queen’s Gambit yesterday I rushed to the Internet to see if someone had written all of the things I am about to write, all of the symbols I saw in the miniseries, all of the dog whistles, the references.  I found articles about chess. About how the community had adopted the film, about which grandmasters the characters were based off of, about chess moves and theories, about production and the unexpected success of the series.

According to me, this is quite mediocre commentary. I eventually clicked on the New Yorker article that seemed to be a tiny bit smarter. After a couple of paragraphs I realized that the male writer was only going to rant about how the actress is “too pretty” to be Beth Harmon, and this seems to upset him. A lot.

But no one talked about Beth’s mother. Or the name of the series. Or the embroidery. The chess board. The tranquilizers. The math. The flashbacks. The exchange of queens. The sacrifice of the queen. Did no one see it? Or is it again one of those things; where the world is so obsessed with single mothers and representing them as huge, massive, quite literal train wrecks, but no one actually wants to look at them in the eye, talk to them, help them?

Let me tell you, as a single mother, this miniseries had me in tears the whole time. It’s really difficult to watch. It’s downright triggering.

Single mothers like to keep their silence. That’s because we know the world doesn’t like it when we start talking. It hurts. A lot. So instead, the world likes to make memes about how single moms are whores, how they are drunks or over worked. How they’re psychotic. How they ramble. They don’t make any sense. Bipolar. Crazy. How their children stare at the television all day, the way they microwave bad food. We laugh at them, and use them as comical relief in our ... what exactly? Cultural objects. Then we move on. We send a message to single mothers when we do this, and the message is important. You suck. Shut Up. Don’t exist. It’s your fault. 

We make an entire mini series about a single mother who killed herself to save her kid, we put on the television images that hurt and harm single mothers and then the public responds with nothing. They don’t even bat an eyelash. Miss the point entirely. Great series about chess! Except it’s not about chess. Not at all. It’s about raising children alone, when the world hates you. It’s about a trailer. In the middle of nowhere. A strong willed woman who was a mathematician in the 1940s. Who taught her daughter everything she could. Realized she couldn’t do more. And made the ultimate sacrifice, the queen’s gambit. The riskiest, most reckless, bravest move of all.

So let me tell you about what it’s like to watch Queen’s Gambit when you’re a single mother. So that somewhere in the AI, it’s written. So that when our great grand children will try to understand our times, they’ll read it.

I’ll write an essay for each episode. And in each essay I will review the important lession that Alice passed on to young Beth, and how this takes her to Moscow, where she can live a much more fulfilling life than in the U.S.A.

Lesson 1 : Find A Two Dimensional Algebric Plane. Study It. Control It.

I recently learned from instagram user @itllbeokbaby and Amsterdam based artist and weaver Liza Prins that the words textile and text have the same origin as the word texture. 

Text derives from the Latin textus (a tissue), which is in turn derived from texere (to weave). It belongs to a field of associated linguistic values that includes weaving, that which is woven, spinning, and that which is spun, indeed even web and webbing. Textus entered European vernaculars through Old French, where it appears as texte and where it assumes its important relation with tissu (a tissue or fabric) and tisser (to weave).

Women have been weaving, beading, sowing and stitching since the dawn of times. We also know that women used this technology not just to create clothes, tents or shoes. They used it as a container of information. As cultural DNA. 

In South America, in places where writing as we know of it was never created, women would bead important tribal information into skirts. They would then use the skirts as a database of the tribe. To track births, deaths, epidemics, droughts and other important group defining events.

In modern times, women still use embroidery as a means of expression. My memories from childhood contain strong images of my aunts and grandmothers, sewing my name and date of birth onto pillow cases, bathrobes and bedcovers. They would do this by the pool, at the bottom of the ski slopes, on the beach or in the train. They would engage into conversation as they embroidered; as this activity required some concentration, but not their full attention. It was their way of being present; but also transcending into the past and projecting into the future. They sewed our lives into the cloth.

I once heard my grandmother counting the holes in the cloth she was decorating with her beautiful colours. I asked what she was doing. She said that to build the letters on the cloth, you needed to count the squares. Two to the top, four to the right, ten to the middle, etc etc. I was quite mesmerized. I was maybe eight at the time, the same age as Beth when she loses her mother. I had started learning some math in school but somehow the math in school seemed to be presented to me as the epitome of something quite different than this excruciatingly feminine passtime. 

Math was presented to me as masculine, out of reach to us girls. And now I was disovering that these women in my family were geometry experts, fluent in linear algebra, and that at a higher level, they were database account managers.

In the first episode of the miniseries, in the first couple of minutes; we discover two Beths. The first Beth is in Paris, the beautiful, the chic; the glamourous Paris. Paris will always be the undisputed capital of Fashion. 

Paris is the undisputed capital of fashion not because it is the home of polluting massive textile industries like the ones in Pakistan or Zara’s empire in Spain. Paris is the capital of fashion because it is the capital of Haute Couture. And Haute Couture is custom made, sowed by hand, piece by piece, bead by bead, sequin per sequin. It is delicate. It is slow. It is sacred. It is what my aunt’s did. 

It is the opposite of industrial, the opposite of a sewing machine, the opposite of an engine. The opposite of yield failures, punching in and punching out. It is lace. Delicate, personal, eternal.

The second Beth we see is the eight year old Beth, that has just lost her mother. She stands on a bridge. Two cars have crashed into one another. And she stares on at the police officers. One says “Not a scratch on her. It’s a miracle”. The other says “I doubt she’ll see it like that”. 

My theory is that the miniseries explain how Beth eventually begins to “see it like that”. 

The first time we see 8 year old Beth she is wearing a dress, with her name embroidered on it. It reads Beth, in pink. Feminine. Purple flowers surround it. The embroidery is delicate. It’s on her heart. 

We follow eight year old Beth as she gets sent to an orphanage. In the first couple of scenes at the orphanage, we think, for a minute, that maybe Beth will be okay here. The head mistress smiles, has nice hair. Shows her around. Yes, the bed is by the lavatory, but at least she has a bed, a roof over her head.

We only start despising this new mother figure when she takes Beth to choose new clothes. Beth takes off her dress, and stares at her name, written on the front. The headmistress selects a white shirt and grey dress for Beth. She hands to her these new items, symbol of her new life, of her integration within the orphanage and later mainstream society. The headmistress then grabs the dress with the name embroidered and looks at it with disgust. Then, she says “I think we’ll burn this one” and disapears.

Beth then understands that she is no longer allowed to love her mother. That to fit in this school, this orphanage, to survive, she must let go of the embroidery and all of the things she associates with her mother. Her mother, in the words of the teacher was a “victim” of “a carefree life”. A free spirited whore, a lesbian, a witch. There’s a lot of words we liek to use to describe women who don’t conform. And Beth’s mother, as we learn, never conformed.

At night, Beth sees her mother’s eyes, she hears the last words her mother uttered before dying in the car crash. “Close your eyes”. She said it with tears in her eyes and an air of great determination. She knew what she was doing, which is something Beth doesn’t want to tell anyone. Not even her new friend Jolene. Beth’s secret is her mother wasn’t crazy. She wasn’t crazy at all.

Then, Beth discovers the board. One day, she gets sent to the basement and sees the janitor playing chess. Later in the miniseries, Beth tells the journalist from Life it was the board that attracted her. Not the pieces.

As the first episode unfolds, Beth learns that the squares have names. She learns the names. And at night when she looks up at the ceiling she sees the board. She visualizes the pieces moving on the 64 squares. She moves them in her mind and imagines all of the alternatives. What the board would look like if she moved this piece to that square. What would her opponent do then? 

To the journalist of the Life magazine, Beth says that the Chess board was a universe of 64 squares, and that she could control this space. All she had to do was study it.

The board is much like the cloth that Beth’s mother Alice would sew information onto when she was a young child. You count the squares and move your material through it. As you go, you make shapes, patterns, motifs. Beth looks up at the ceiling at night and the first night, without the tranquilizers, she sees her mother say “Close your eyes” which is too painful or such a young child. A young child doesn’t understand yet why a mother would say “Close your eyes” and then crash on purpose into a truck. A young child doesn’t know about the world yet.

Alice aknowledged that she was about to do something extremely risky, that the outcome was uncertain. Alice told Beth that she was going to purposely provoke the car crash. 

But when Beth takes the tranquilizers at night, and now that she knows about chess, she can transfer her love for her mother into her growing obsession with Chess. She looks up at the ceiling and instead of seeing Alice’s last thoughts, she sees the Chess board. Which is the small piece of universe that Alice controlled, when she was alive. The cloth that she sewed her daughter’s name on: “So that you’ll always remember who you are”.

[wewererogue]

Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser: Review by Justin Alexander

[by Justin Alexander / The Alexandrian, March 21st, 2006]

I’ve been on a pulp fantasy kick for the past month or so: I started with Robert E. Howard, having finally secured (by way of the Science Fiction Book Club) a hardcover copy of what promises to be the first true edition of his Conan stories to be issued in the States. From that familiar territory I spun off for a quick foray through Henry Kuttner’s imaginative Prince Raynor stories before returning to Howard for the outstanding – if unfortunately few – Cormac Mac Art stories. I then took a voyage of peril and pleasure across Clark Ashton Smith’s forgotten continent of Zothique before turning my attention to Fritz Leiber’s legendary duo: Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser.

From there I had intended to set sail for the lands of either Moorcock’s Elric or Wagner’s Kane, but – in truth – I find myself so disheartened that I am instead turning my attention to wholly different pastures for awhile.

But I fear that I set my premise before my scene. Let me back up for a moment.

For those who don’t know, Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser are famed heroes of the sword and sorcery genre. First unleashed in the pages of the pulps, their literary career spanned almost five decades, coming to an end only with Leiber’s death in the early ‘90s. Their tales are most commonly available in seven authoritative collections: Swords and Deviltry, Swords Against Death, Swords in the Mist, Swords Against Wizardry, Swords of Lankhmar, Swords and Ice Magic, and The Knight and Knave of Swords.

I first read their adventures in junior high, savoring the two omnibuses which collected the first six of these volumes: The Three Swords and Swords’ Masters. Coming back to them now, nearly fifteen years later, I had only dim and disjointed memories of the two dashing swashbucklers, their gritty city of Lankhmar, and the mystic-laden land of Nehwon.

On this return trip, I found myself harboring a great deal of uneven disappointment. In short, I found that the stories of Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser could be roughly divided into two camps – the outstanding and the painfully mediocre – with the latter far outnumbering the former.

Nor can one simply say, as one can in so many cases, that the earlier tales are superior to the hack work of the later. “Ill Met in Lankhmar”, The Swords of Lankhmar, and even the somewhat mixed “Rime Isle”, although among the later works, would make the list of those stories I would recommend. Although, that being said, I think it is clear that, as the series continued, a certain dreary repetition and self-conscious cleverness began to consistently diminish the stories.

Perhaps the best way to approach this inconsistent and self-crippling series is through a volume-by-volume summary of impressions.

SWORDS AND DEVILTRY: Fortunately, the most consistent volume in the series is also the first, although it contains only three tales. “The Snow Women” and “The Unholy Grail” each tell a tale of Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser before their fateful and legendary meeting in Lankhmar. The former is a top-notch tale of youth and magic in the frozen north, keenly demonstrating the fantastic and unique vision which Leiber is capable of delivering. The latter, although strongly crafted, is a somewhat weaker tale – its plot more commonplace in its conception. The volume is rounded out by “Ill Met in Lankhmar”, which is the tale of the first true meeting of our destined heroes. It is also a powerfully tragic story, and its strength is best described by the fact that it represented my strongest memory of Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser before returning to the series.

SWORDS AGAINST DEATH: The second volume in the series begins to show the inconsistency I’m talking about, particularly in the short bridging stories which I believe Leiber wrote specifically for these collections. “The Jewels in the Forest ” and “Thieves’ House”, two of the oldest stories, are the highlights here, and come highly recommended. Running close behind are “The Howling Tower” and “Claws of the Night” – the former being slight, but imaginative; while the latter comes as close to being a prototypical tale of Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser as you are likely to find (mixing thievery, gods, and sly humor across the backdrop of Lankhmar).

Much of this volume, however, is thoroughly pedestrian. To this category belong “The Bleak Shore”, “The Sunken Land”, “The Seven Black Priests”, and “Bazaar of the Bizarre”. (Although, in their favor, I will note that these all have their moments of fantastic vision. The last, however, is a very thin pastiche.) Finally, it would be charitable to describe the last two tales offered here – “The Circle Curse” and “The Price of Pain-Ease” – as thoroughly mediocre. It would be more accurate to simply describe them as bad.

SWORDS IN THE MIST: The third volume is even more uneven than the second. On the one hand, it arguably contains the two best stories in the series: The first of these, “Lean Times in Lankhmar”, is a masterfully crafted tale. Its characters keep you enthralled while its fanciful premise is cleverly worked into an utterly hilarious conclusion. It reminds me strongly of Terry Pratchett at his finest. (Pratchett’s Small Gods, in particular, owes an obvious debt to this story.) The second gem to be found here is “Adept’s Gambit”, which is also the first tale of Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser written by Leiber. Set in a mythically tinged epoch of ancient history, the tale is faintly resonant with the finest creations of Lovecraft, Howard, and Clark Ashton Smith, but possesses a flair and unique sense of character which makes it all Leiber’s own.

Unfortunately the rest of this volume can’t compare with these two classics: “The Cloud of Hate” and “When the Sea-King’s Away” are forgettable clichés, while “Their Mistress, the Sea” and “The Wrong Branch” are ham-fisted, half-baked afterthoughts attempting to create an unnecessary bridge between one tale and the next.

SWORDS AGAINST WIZARDRY: The bulk of this volume is taken up by two lengthy tales, “Stardock” and “The Lords of Quarmall”. Both stories play out across a fantastic and vividly imagined landscape populated with strange cultures and larger-than-life characters. These two tales give Swords Against Wizardry perhaps the strongest base of any volume in the series. Unfortunately, the collection is also padded out with a couple of bridging stories – “The Witch’s Tent” and “The Two Best Thieves of Lankhmar” – which have a bit more substance to them than the other bridging stories, but are still mediocre offerings at best.

THE SWORDS OF LANKHMAR: This is, in fact, the only stand-alone novel in the series. It tells the sprawling saga of an attempted invasion (of a most unusual size and character) aimed against the great city of Lankhmar . Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser, of course, almost single-handedly turn back this invasion – although the path they take is anything but simple or straight-forward.

The Swords of Lankhmar is not the best story told of Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser, but it is perhaps the greatest. The expanded format allows Leiber a chance to stretch his muscles, and he accepts the challenge admirably by weaving a tapestry not only expansive in its imaginings but detailed in its fancies.

Perhaps the most intriguing thing to me about this novel is the clear inheritance its narrative receives from fairy tales. Whereas most writers of sword-and-sorcery trace their antecedents back to classical myth and legend, Leiber’s heroes clearly inhabit a world inspired as much as by Hans Christian Anderson as it is by Beowulf. And it is perhaps this, more than anything else, which gives these stories a unique distinction in the field.

SWORDS AND ICE MAGIC: Unfortunately, after The Swords of Lankhmar the series appears to have spent its creativity. Swords and Ice Magic, the sixth volume, is largely an unimaginative regurgitation of the themes, plots, and characters found earlier in the series. The first five stories in this collection (“The Bait”, “Beauty and the Beasts”, “Trapped in Shadowland”, “The Bait”, and “Under the Thumbs of the Gods”) are simply dreadful wastes of time. In fact, they are all essentially the same story: Distant powers or gods attempt to kill Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser, who – for their part – accept the improbable with stoic complacency while thoroughly and effortlessly thwarting the attempts each time. Unfortunately, this is also a story which was told twice before in these collections.

Fortunately, things then take a slight turn for the better. The sixth story, “Trapped in the Sea of Stars ”, is badly contrived and nearly plotless, but makes up for it through the vivid description of its sense-of-wonder sea voyage. There is, in fact, no particular story here at all – but the visions conjured forth by Leiber’s prose are worth the price of admission.

The last two stories in the collection – “The Frost Monstreme” and “Rime Isle” – are, in fact, two halves of a single story. Although still flawed by an increasingly rambling style, self-conscious commentary, and regurgitation of plot and imagery, this story still has a lot to offer: Clever interactions of character, epic sensibility, charming wit, and wondrous feats are offered up with a melancholic flair.

THE KNIGHT AND KNAVE OF SWORDS: Sadly, however, that is the end of it. This last collection of stories offers nothing but an imagination apparently spent.  “Sea Magic”, “The Mer She”, and “The Curse of the Smalls and the Stars” each offer us regurgitated plots while doing nothing more than shuffling around the characters and magic items presented in “Rime Isle” to little sense of purpose or accomplishment.

Finally, in “The Mouser Goes Below”, Leiber pulls the same trick: Shuffling around characters and devices already well-worn beyond any effective use. The only difference to be found is that Leiber pulls his reused material from a larger portion of the series, rather than a single story.

I also found another trend in this last volume particularly disconcerting: A pointless coarseness which was previously absent from the series. I’m not sure what Leiber was attempting to accomplish by suddenly inundating the narrative with “long poniards” piercing “cunts and arse holes”, but the effect was merely distasteful.

In the end, I think this was a series which long-outlived its creator’s interest. Or, at the very least, his ability. The later offerings become increasingly repetitive and unimaginative, as if Leiber had simply run out of new ideas to share. Unfortunately, in collected form, these lackluster efforts seem to out-mass and actively detract from those stories which legitimately earn Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser a place of high honor in the pantheon of fantasy heroes.

Indeed, I found myself unable to finish the series. Swords and Ice Magic had seriously fatigued my interest, and I pushed on with The Knight and Knave of Swords only because (a) I had never read that final volume and (b) I wanted to finish what I had started.

But, in the end, I could manage no further than the mid-point of “The Mouser Goes Below”. Leiber pinioned the Mouser – immobile, invisible, and speechless – in order to have him bear witness to a gratuitously graphic description of one of his former loves having her maid stripped bare, fondled in the cunt and arse hole, and then given instruction on “naked serving”. After several pages of this pointlessly turgid prose I finally gave up and closed the book.

If I ever return to the adventures of Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser, it shall be a markedly proscribed path I take through their tales. Such a journey would look something like this:

“The Snow Woman”

“The Unholy Grail”

“Ill Met in Lankhmar”

“The Jewels in the Forest”

“Thieves’ House”

“The Bleak Shore”

“The Howling Tower”

“The Sunken Land”

“The Seven Black Priests”

“Claws of the Night”

“Lean Times in Lankhmar”

“When the Sea-King’s Away”

Adept’s Gambit

“Stardock”

“The Lords of Quarmall”

The Swords of Lankhmar

“The Frost Monstreme”

“Rime Isle”

I suspect this is less than half of the words written by Leiber of the two greatest swordsmen to ever live in this or any other universe, but it is decidedly the better half. And it, unlike the balance of the series, comes with my highest recommendation.

GRADES:

SWORDS AND DEVILTRY: A-

SWORDS AGAINST DEATH: B+

SWORDS IN THE MIST: A-

SWORDS AGAINST WIZARDRY: A-

SWORDS IN LANKHMAR: A-

SWORDS AND ICE MAGIC: B

KNIGHT AND KNAVE OF SWORDS: D

[source]

[ofhelens]

HELEN WORTHINGTON: AUDITIONING FOR THE ROLE OF LADY MACBETH

oh boy. okay, so without rambling too much..........originally, i wasn’t going to have helen audition for anyone. why would she? with the possible exception of lady macduff, macbeth is full of characters who are totally unlike helen & anyone she’s played up-to-date. plus, the subject of the play is just a little too on the nose for her - and given her self denial at the moment, that isn’t a can of worms she’s looking to open. however, as i was writing this, it became clearer and clearer to me that helen playing lady macbeth would go really well alongside her general trajectory in the roleplay (downhill, like a damn roller coaster) and i could definitely see the “out damn spot” monologue playing well alongside some juicy orson reveal stuff :) also poetically...seeing “the ingenue” go from basically being the embodiment of an angel to playing one of shakespeare’s darkest heroines is...chefs kiss.

 it’s strange to say that my character surprised me...(because im writing them?!) but yeah...helen surprised me!! she’s absolutely terrified by the idea of playing someone who is a little darker, a little stranger - but that’s exactly why she should do it!! i also genuinely think it’ll help her grow as an actor, which is something i really want to see happen. helen is pretty mediocre - but she doesn’t have to be!!! the only way we can grow as individuals is by challenging ourselves - something i’m keen to see heidi make happen.

having said that, i am not ride-or-die for lady macbeth and do not expect her to be cast as her at all!! if orson was casting, helen would be lady macduff without a question (we stan a self aware queen!) - and now that she’s made that point explicit to heidi, i feel like the latter will be way more inclined to cast her as anyone-but-that. if not lady macbeth, i could definitely see her playing one of the witches. essentially, i just need helen to play someone with a little more meat, someone who is darker; meaning that as she tries to nail their characterisation, she’s forced to confront some ugly things about herself and almost deal with the darkness in a therapeutic way.

“Helen Worthington.” She had expected stepping out onto the stage to feel more poetic. There was supposed to be sorrow in finality, grief in endings. And this was it. This was the final time she would audition for a play as an Alderidge student - perhaps her final audition all together. Whilst her peers clamoured for the limelight, she would have been perfectly comfortable making this her swan song. A moment passed. “I’ll be auditioning with Cleopatra, Act 5, Scene 2.” She could still hear Zahra’s words of encouragement in the back of her mind, quelling any doubts.

A brief look of surprise crossed Heidi’s face, she glanced down at her paper, as if trying to match the person she saw before her with words on a page. Then, slowly, she nodded. “Alright...am I to assume you’ll be auditioning for Lady MacBeth then?”

It took a moment for Helen’s mind to make the connection. She shook her head firmly. “No - no...no. I could never play Lady MacBeth...she’s...” Too monstrous. Too big a part. Too much like everything I never want to be. Settling on diplomacy, Helen sighed. “I could never do her justice.” 

This seemed to interest Heidi. “Why not? Looking at your previous roles - “ She shuffled the papers in her hand “- you seem to have done a standout job with Celia. Lady MacBeth isn’t such a jump. Lines wise, at least.”

Helen shook her head, adamant that Heidi see what she did. “Playing Celia isn’t hard. She’s soft. Dreamy. And a character in a comedy.” 

Heidi frowned. “So it’s Shakespeare’s tragedies you’re opposed to? Or being challenged?”

She was so unlike Orson that Helen had to blink twice, just to be sure her senses weren’t tricking her. “No. I don’t like tragedies. Everyone dies. I love theatre because it’s an escape - because it’s a chance to live out someone else’s stories. But why would I want to live like...like Lady MacBeth? She’s a terrible person. She’s a monster. I’d hate to even feel an inch of who she is.” Because what if I’m good at it? What if it’s easy to become her? What does that say about me? About what I’ve done? 

“And being challenged?” A dog with a bone, Heidi continued to tug at the remaining loose thread. “Is it a fear of letting people down? Are you afraid that you’re not talented enough?”

Back against the wall, Helen was forced to confront some uncomfortable truths. The purest of which was this: she never had been challenged. Any malevolent thoughts were packed in dusty boxes at the back of her mind, never to be opened. She was practically adored by her peers. Orson had never dragged her out of her comfort zone. She had no idea what being challenged was like. All she knew was that she didn’t want it. “I don’t know.” She conceded, sighing. “I’ve only ever played Celias.”

“And you want things to stay that way?”

Helen closed her eyes. Her mind was awash with a thousand memories - hanging out with Chandler in between As You Like It auditions, kissing Jonah backstage, laughing with Harry, cooking with Julian...she didn’t want things to ever change. That was why she poisoned Orson, wasn’t it? So that they could stay in a glorious summer, where no one ever got hurt. “Yes. Why fix what isn’t broken?”

Heidi shot her a thoughtful glance and opened her mouth as if she was about to ask another question, before shutting it abruptly. “Alright Helen -” She said slowly, nodding. “The stage is yours.” 

Now nervous about her audition piece, about what it said about her and about whether she’d be able to deliver; Helen closed her eyes. She had never been to Egypt, never even left the country - but conjured the sensation of balmy evenings, a heart full of love and a crown weighing you down. “Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have immortal longings in me - “ Perhaps she and Cleopatra weren’t so different. She understood what it was to long for immortality of another kind. You could have even said she was desire itself. It was those parts of Cleopatra Helen chose to emphasise. 

Pretending to shuffle on a robe, Helen stared out into the audience. Cleopatra saw a kingdom.

“now no more the juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip: Yare, yare, good Iras; quick. Methinks I hear Antony call; I see him rouse himself to praise my noble act; I hear him mock the luck of Caesar, which the gods give men to excuse their after wrath: husband, I come: now to that name my courage prove my title!” The love between Antony and Cleopatra, Helen had decided, was ugly. It was brutal. It should not be celebrated. But she also thought she understood it - the sensation of being bound to someone, of loving them so intensely you would do unspeakable, regrettable, things in their name. If someone dared lay a finger on Antony, would Cleopatra burn them to the ground? Helen was sure she would. As she came to understand Shakespeare’s heroine, she began to lose herself in Cleopatra’s skin in a way she never had before.

Opposite her, but unseen by Helen, Heidi sat up a little straighter. 

“I am fire and air; my other elements I give to baser life. So; have you done? Come then, and take the last warmth of my lips. Farewell, kind Charmian; Iras, long farewell.” Her kiss brings death. It was a terrifying kind of beautiful. Against her better judgement, Helen’s mind began to wonder...to remember. A wine glass. A toast. Poison. A deceitful smile concealing burning hatred. Who was she to judge Shakespeare’s characters...when she had wrought such destruction...

Lips trembling, Helen paused - momentarily unable to continue with her performance. See, this was why she hated Shakespeare’s dark and decrepit creatures. They drew something carnal out of her...they overwhelmed her, threatening to seize her voice and take it as their own. To be on stage was to be exposed...and this was one reflection she refused to peer into.

Why did Zahra encourage her to use this piece? Did she know something? Or did she just want to see her falter?

Ten seconds later, she regained her composure. Her break did not go unnoticed by Heidi.

Kneeling on the floor, Helen took Iras’ imaginary body into her arms, cradling him as he took his last breaths. Childish and impulsive she may be, but Cleopatra had heart. She wasn’t wholly wicked. Maybe in her performance, Helen could find her a kind of redemption; a thousand years too late.

“Have I the aspic in my lips? Dost fall? If thou and nature can so gently part, the stroke of death is as a lover's pinch, which hurts, and is desired. Dost thou lie still? If thus thou vanishest, thou tell'st the world. It is not worth leave-taking.” Was Cleopatra brave to watch Iras take his last breaths? Was she a coward for letting Orson die alone? Panic’s familiar sensation threatened to take a hold of her. Breath quickening, her last sentence was slightly slurred as she raced towards the end, to the moment she could be done with Cleopatra, toss her aside and never wear her face again. 

Her story was not Cleopatra’s. She and Jonah were not Antony and Cleopatra. She was just a role. It was all make believe. 

“See -” Helen began, gentle, but sad. “There’s a reason I don’t get cast as the Lady MacBeth’s of the world.” 

Wearing an expression equal parts confusion and sympathy, Heidi returned her smile. “It’s not your fault you’ve never had an opportunity to dig deeper with your characters. Now that isn’t to say that his comedic characters don’t have depth - but it’s like the other side of a coin. If you want to excel as an actor, it’s important you learn how to play both kinds. Life can’t always be sunshine and rainbows.”

Why not? Knowing better than to vocalise her disagreement, Helen swallowed her words. Idealism never...carried well with people. They thought she was a child, head in the clouds, living in a world of fantasy. Had she been a crueller person, she would have asked them why they were so adamant to continue living in a world of grey. So instead, she nodded politely. “Thank you for letting me audition.”

"Thank you for coming in Helen. And props for choosing something we wouldn’t expect.” Glancing down at her sheet, she tapped her nails against the paper. “You still haven’t told me who you’re auditioning for.”

Her first instinct was to steadfastly refuse to audition for any of them - and let the chips fall where they may. Or even to ask to be moved down a year, to the third year’s comedy. “Orson would probably cast me as Lady MacDuff.” It was the only character she ever could have volunteered herself for. Domestic bliss, it was something she embodied easily.

“Well - “ Heidi said, inclining her head, “I’m not Orson.”

No, Helen thought, you’re not. May that be a blessing, and not my curse.

“Would you toss your hat into the ring for Lady MacBeth?”

No, Helen thought. Not a chance in hell. But then, betrayed by her mouth, she nodded. “I’d consider it.”

As she exited the stage, Helen couldn’t help but wonder what the hell she’d gotten herself into.

[thatyanderecritic]

Marchen Witches

Title: Marchen Witches

Media: Webtoons, written by Verbin

Yandere(s): Carness

Yandere Scale: 4/5

Criticism written by: Kai 

Editor: Julie

The Review: Hey everyone! Kai here back with another review! I’m sure that this is a bit of a surprise. Hell, I’m surprised that I’m doing yet another review. While waiting for yesterday’s livestream to finish rendering (which I’ll be posting here), I stumbled upon this webtoon. I decided to read it on a whim as I wait for the video to finish up and boy, I did not expect there to be a yandere here… Let me explain

Marchen Witches is a webtoon about a romance between a witch and a knight. About 300 years ago, there was a racial war between magic users and non-magic users. The witch and the knight tried to fight for equal rights but ended up dying in the fight. Unable to recognize their love for each other, the witch cast a spell so that her and the knight can be reincarnated together. Now, a 300 years later, the witch was reincarnated… as a male scientist named Schwann Owen. Present day, Owen contains all his past life memories and now researching the reincarnation spell from a scientific point of view. But he was soon attacked by a wizard terrorist group called the Black Pearl. But! He was saved by a female war mage named Jessica; who very much looks like the knight in the past life (you see a trend here?). But surprise surprise, Jessica has a twin brother who also looks like the knight. Now Owen is all messed up on who’s the real knight. But that isn’t important. The Black Pearl kidnap Owen for his research but surprise! It was actually Carness’s, the yandere, long con to capture Jessica to commit couple suicide and reincarnate into the next life together <3 But Carness got his ass beat by Owen and everyone lives happily ever after :)

Anyways, you guys might think I just rushed typing the summary and skipping over details but, nope! The webtoons was just that rushed! It was a neat story and was an enjoyable read but it was rather… underwhelming and very unsatisfying. There were many points in the story where the author could have paused and expanded on a plot detail or character interaction or character background. The only one who got major screen time was just some side character called Zeke, for some reason… Like, Owen’s dilemma with figuring out which twin was the knight was barely touched on and was kinda… glossed over. His relationship with them was extremely superficial and I couldn’t believe that Owen and Jessica got together out of true love. Jessica was just awfully written. She was bland and boring. The minute there was an inch of personality or possible character history from her, it was immediately skipped over for #plot. The same goes for her twin brother. There was a really big point that was brought up in the story but pretty much was destroyed after it was out the gate. It was the idea that maybe… these people in the present AREN’T actually the people from the past anymore. Very good plot point that should have been focused for the entire damn story but it was only use for convenience against Zeke and the yandere, Carness (who I’ll talk about soon. I swear). That point was immediately tossed out the window once Jessica remember her past life and automatically went “I love you, Owen :)”. Lmao what??? Literally a panel ago, everyone was agreeing to let the past be the past. From what I saw, the two main characters just love each other because of who they were in the past, not who they are right now. Y’all realized how fuck that is, right? Right???? It’s an alright story… it fits the bare minimum of what a story requires. But don’t expect anything particularly amazing. 

Anyways, enough rambling about the mediocre story. Let’s talk yandere. So Carness was a surprise yandere. When I first saw him appear, my first thought was: “The author has no reason to make him this hot” lmao. Carness is the main antagonist of the entire webcomic and pretty much the reason why there was that whole racism war to begin with…. Apparently. But before I talk about him, I should mention that Carness is canon fodder yandere. What does that mean? Carness’s whole point in the story is just to bring the two main characters together before getting his ass beat. So don’t expect anything amazing from him besides going “muahahaha”. 

Now then… why is Carness a yandere? Well, we first have to go back into time for Carness original incarnation: Countess Iris. Yes, before Carness was a male yandere, he was a female yandere :) We’re checking off all boxes here folks. Well, Countess Iris was the knight’s OG fiance. She fell in love with him at first sight when they were children and was groomed to be his perfect wife, since that’s what is expected of a woman. Hinted that she was most likely neglected as a child too. Basically, she was raised to be devoted only to the knight. To keep him only to herself, she chased off women and disfigured some who tried to get close to the knight. But without her realizing, the knight and the witch fell in love with each other. Mad with jealousy, she flamed the already tense racial divide between the witches and humans so that the witch would “accidentally” die in the fighting. But she never expected the knight to go out with the witch. Wrecked with grief, anger, possessiveness, ect. Countess Iris decided to follow after the knight into the next life. She preserved his body and “recruited” (forced) many witches to copy the reincarnation spell. The spell worked and she turned into a he then went out to hunt for the reincarnated knight. Carness found Jessica and… idk what happened between that and the meeting of Owen. This story gloss over more plot details than a high school girl using lip gloss. Anyways, Carness decides to permanently get rid of Owen for good and do a lovers suicide for the next life. To do that, he puppeteer an entire terrorist group and did mind using people for his own agenda. But of course, he lost after have a yandere snap and get locked up in jail. The end.

 As you can see, Carness is a yandere but due to having a shallow background (shit everyone has a shallow background), we have to take away a point because there’s not much about Carness (I mean, that paragraph seems like a lot but really, compared to the webtoon, the paragraph is really nothing). Anyways, Carness is solid. Story is wack but readable.

Overall score: 6/10