#Once Upon a Tractor

[akkivee]

there’s a hallmark movie in the making with a country boy samatoki and city boy juto au lmao

[silknspice]

GOOD FOR THE HEART

country! vi x reader fluff, angst, smut (18+), slow(?)burn, wc. 13.6k

synopsis: an intimate bond forms between an ill farmer's daughter, desperate for a taste of the outside world, and the helpful part-timing cowgirl at the farm. OR vi wants you bad, and what better way to get to know you than sneak you around town?

content warnings: illness, NOT read over, foul language, smut so mdni/18+, fingering r!receiving, controlling parent, health worries, fainting, slight insecurity, emotional rollercoaster but a fun one!!

soundtrack: my girl (the temptations) | our love (curtis harding + jazmine sullivan) | | we’ll never have sex (leith ross) | pillow (malcolm todd) | close to you (carpenters) | not a lot, just forever (adrianne lenker) | cool about it (boygenius) |  pancakes for dinner (lizzy mcalpine)(this sounds sm like vi to me) | kiss me (sixpence none the richer) | i bet on losing dogs (mitski)  aftercare (listen post-fic): force of nature (lizzy mcalpine)

Vi could strip naked right here, right now. 

And with her well known spontaneous personality, she would. Especially under the hundred degree heat that preys upon her and forces the girl’s freckled skin to glisten. But a: she’s with her siblings (enough said), and b: she’s working outdoors at the Laurier’s farm. Meaning only a handful of yards away, tucked in that blue, yellow, and white idyllic house covered with blooming botanical life, stands Mr. Laurier’s orphic daughter.

That’s all Violet’s ever heard about you, from children playing on the street to adults roaming the town shops. Ever since her adoptive father suggested she take this summer job before she goes back to focusing on her college work. Ever since her siblings and family friend jumped to tag along after Mr. Laurier decided ‘the more the merrier’. 

All that’s been filling Violet Lane's ears is information about you, or, the lack thereof. How you’re always locked up in that big residence. How you used to roam the town just like any other little rascal until five years ago, at the age of thirteen, when something out of her knowledge occurred. How stunning you look in a sundress. She tried to block that one out. 

“Why is it that Mylo’s drivin’ the tractor and not me?” Powder complains, pulling her clenched hand from the bag of chicken feed and tossing it on the ground for the horde to gobble. 

“Last time you tried to drive something I started praying.” Ekko throws out. His bun shaped hair bobbles as he finally pulls that one stubborn carrot from the ground and places it in the basket. 

“Besides Pow,” Violet starts, lifting a heavy brown box onto her shoulder and cradling it with just one arm. ��You’re doin’ fine taking care of the animals. Mylo would be scaring them to death.” The pink haired girl sighed out, looking around.

Her gaze landed on the decorated porch, and she pursued. Vi set the last of the boxes down with a soft grunt before straightening her back and lifting her arms, clasped at the fingers, over her head to get a well-deserved stretch. 

The worker’s completely regretting her chosen position as the door swings open, and she looks heaven right in the eyes. 

You stand there in a white lace sundress covered in a juicy red pattern of cherries, a smile sweet enough to give a sugar high plastered on your stunning face. Vi’s gaze flickers down to your feet covered by red country boots. Above those are your soft looking hands holding a gift basket. When she’s done examining you, her blue-gray eyes trail their way back to yours– and it’s like whiplash. Once again, she’s blinded by those pearly whites and the tasty perfume radiating off of you. God help me, is the only phrase filling her mind because damn you’re ethereal. 

“Hi there, cowgirl.” You’re going to send Vi into cardiac arrest with just your voice. Thankfully, she realizes she needs to respond, and quickly wipes the dopey grin (that she wasn’t aware she had) off of her face. 

It’s not like everything is peaches and cream on your end. The girl’s tight white t-shirt is grasping onto her glistening biceps, her pretty bright eyes and the freckles that decorate her nose make her look blessed by the sun, and seeing such a beautiful yet handsome woman in a cowboy hat is doing foreign things to your stomach. ‘Wow’, is all your wandering mind formulates.

“Hi there, miss Laurier,” she copies you in her lower voice, and you notice the slit on her lip as it curls up into a soft smirk. You shake your head at her words with a polite smile, insisting she call you by your name, which you offer up. She repeats it once perfectly, claiming it ‘rolls right off the tongue’, and you crack a smile. 

“My father informed me that you’re the new help around here for the summer, so I decided to bake somethin’ for the five of you.” You’re sticking out the basket, decorated with a pink bow on top, for Vi to take. She does and quickly takes a peek inside. Five snickerdoodle cookies and one large cherry pie. You do stay on theme, and so, it starts.

“Thank you, cherry.” she cracks a smile that sends a shock down your body, and gently tips her hat.

Fourteen searing days pass on that farm, days filled with laughter, hard work, and the smell of life from the surrounding plants. 

But not for you. 

For each of those fourteen days, for the past one thousand eight hundred and twenty-five days, you’ve sat sideways in your window with your back against one side and your legs propped up on the wood. You read, journaled, book pressed flowers (that you had to sneak out front to get), took much needed resting breaks, tended to your pet lamb Daisy, and watched Footloose. Your sock-covered feet subtly shuffled side to side as if you were mimicking their dance moves in your head. 

Vi watched as you sat there all those days in your open window. Half of your body out in the fresh air and half cooped back up inside like the past five years of your life. It was as if you yearned to experience life completely outside the window, but you couldn’t. And so, you completed your daily activities the furthest away you could get. 

Until your eighteenth birthday came along. 

“Lord, can you focus instead of stalking your ‘cherry’,” Ekko mimics the pinkett’s voice with the last two words, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. 

“Bet she wants to pop her cherry.” Mylo snickers at his own joke, earning a slap to the nape from Claggor.

“Last warning Mylo. Don’t talk about her like that.” she replies firmly, furrowed brows making a little scowl. 

Claggor shakes his head softly, letting the tension between his siblings diffuse before speaking. “You know, you should do something other than just stare at her all day. It’s getting sad.” 

“Like?” the cowgirl responds with crossed arms.

“Ask her to hang out, obviously.” Powder pipes up, petting a sheep as she prepares to guide it inside the barn. “She’s always lookin’ so lonely. Swear the only time she smiled this past week was when you complimented her on those blackberry muffins she baked us.” 

“You know she’s not supposed to come out, Laurier said so. Pretty sure that’s why she stays upstairs, can’t even come out on the porch when we’re here no more.” Violet huffs.

“You think he thinks we’re a bad influence on her?” Ekko ask in confusion. Because truth be told, no one knew why you stayed locked up in that bright house, like a princess trapped in a tower. People knew better than to ask your father, and of course, they couldn’t get to you. Maybe it was time for someone to be your knight in shining armor.

“Doesn’t matter, he’s not even here right now.” Mylo insists. 

So, after a long back and forth conversation of weighing the possibilities, Violet’s shoved over to the shrubs in front of your second story window. You notice her when she’s there (you’ve been sneaking glances at her every so often), shifting your position so that you can look down on her as she calls out your name.

“Afternoon, cowgirl,” you coo, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. 

“Hey there, angel,” she simply replies with that signature smile, and your hands clench the frame you’re leaning on a bit tighter. “We’re done with the chores for today.”

“Oh. Well, get home safely.” you hum, eyes dropping in what Vi hopes is discontent, because her next words will cheer you right up. 

“Actually, we’re not headed home just yet. The five of us are headed out into the woods over there for a little.. chat." The glowing sunlight illuminates her face as she nods her head to Mylo, who’s allowing the brown paper bag to peek out of his backpack and into your vision. Alcohol. “Would you wanna come with us? Won’t take up too much of your time, I promise.” she asks with a cool voice but a pounding, fearful heart. 

No.

Or at least, that’s what you were supposed to say. It’s what you’d normally say. As much as your ill heart ached to connect with others, as much as you wanted to venture out of your home, as much as this strawberry-haired helper made you want to explore new things you’d only ever seen in movies, your answer always had to be no. 

But, unbeknownst to the others, today was your birthday. You had cautiously lived another year, and instead of feeling fulfilled, you only wonder how many you have left. 

You wanted to live, not survive.

You stared in contemplation before backing up, shutting the window and rushing out of the girl’s sight. 

Vi dropped her head down to the shrubs in front of her. It’s over. She blew it. 

“You scared her!” Ekko teased, making the girl whip her head around to show an angry stare. But the displeased expression faded faster than it formed when the creaking of that back door met her ears, and Powder gasped in joy and disbelief. 

“Lead the way.”

The walk along the trail of the woods to a more secluded area with cut wood stumps as seats was anything but quiet. Powder was talking your ear off about everything mechanic she worked on, treating you like you were from the middle ages rather than just sheltered. Claggor and Mylo were leading, causing the group numerous wrong turns and unplanned ‘shortcuts’ (they’d gotten lost along the way). Vi walked with Ekko on her left, quietly pumping her up and giving her the confidence she’d need to ‘make her move’. 

But despite the various noises, she couldn’t hear anything. Because strolling to her right was you, the girl she’s been infatuated with since first glance. She’s trying to be discreet, examining the way your hair falls, your scent, the way you press your lips together in thought before answering a question. It took the platinum blonde boy next to her elbowing her side before she came back to the real world. 

“I call first sip,” Powder squeaks, to which Violet scoffs, making a quip about how she’s only sixteen and scolding anyone who attempts to offer her the bottle. The bluenette brings up the fact that the others aren’t even the legal drinking age either, but it’s shut down because ‘an adult is an adult’.

“We’ll bring a juice box for you next time.” Mylo smirks, taking a long drag from the bag before offering it out to you. 

Despite the soft urge, you shake your head, because you know your limits. Your heart’s limits. Despite the fact that you’re ignoring the sweatiness of your palms and feeble limbs. 

Mylo hums. “Two juice boxes, then.” 

“Mylo–” Vi scolds, finally coming out of her trance. 

But her anger is cut short at the sound of a hearty chuckle coming from your mouth. And it’s the first time Vi’s ever heard you laugh. Genuinely laugh. It’s enough to bring stars to her already-bright eyes.

The conversation continues as the sun and clouds pass by. Eventually, the others are in a heated debate about the best character in some film you’ve never heard of, leaving you and Violet to shyly shift your attention towards each other.

“I’m glad you came. I noticed you.. don’t get out much?” Her tone is the gentlest it’s ever been. 

“I’m glad you invited me.” You easily avert her indirect question. It eats you alive, the want to tell her everything about you. How you have a “bad heart” as your father gently put it, and now you live your days mundanely so as to not risk triggering anything fatal. But the desire to live just one day in normalcy is stronger, and so you change topics. 

“You have very big muscles. I like them. Is that why you do most of the lifting things rather than herding cattle and such, like other cowgirls?” 

Vi feels her cheeks get toasty at the compliment and your almost-awkward forwardness. But you can’t help it, you’ve hardly had conversations with anyone but your father the past few years, let alone a handsome girl so close in age. It doesn’t matter much though, because Vi loves it.

“Not a real cowgirl. I’m only good for lifting what others can’t.” She chuckles a bit. “I just happen to own a horse— and I wear the hat of course… maybe the belt’s a little cowgirl-like too, but that’s all.” 

You smirk because that makes her a cowgirl in your book, but you politely hum and say nothing. 

The girl shifts her position to turn towards you more, and you swear your heart stops when one of her manspread knees leans against your crossed ones and makes no attempt to move. She examines your behavior, and when she sees the ghost of a smile on your lips, she leans on her opened legs slightly to get more comfortable.

“So what do y’ do in that big house all day, angel? Must get lonely.” 

These nicknames are doing terribly good things to you. 

You hum. She’s completely correct, but the last thing you want is for her to pity you. “Bake a lot, shop in the catalogs, watch movies, write in my books.” You shrug. “Oh,  and I take care of my Daisy girl.” A smile graces your perfect lips. 

“That your dog? Never seen her around,” she asked with questioning brows.

“No,” you giggle, sending Vi into heaven. So beautiful. “It’s my lamb.”

A beat passes before she responds, a glint in her eye. “So I should be calling you Bo Peep?” she jokes. 

You laugh, knocking your knees against hers in playful scolding. Simple words, simple touches, a simple gathering that may be day to day life for anyone else in the town. But for you, this was the best thing to happen in years. 

“Daisy’s a sweet name, matches her sweetheart of an owner.” she compliments you, and you graze your hand over your heart because you can’t decipher why it’s speeding up. “We sound real rugged compared to you. Our dog’s name is Rusty. Powder ch–” 

“Hey!” 

A deep, raspy voice calls out from behind you. A few of you whip your heads around to see the source of the noise, whereas others stand out of shock as the man comes into your sight. “What are y’all doing on my property? Get over here!” He’s moving quickly towards the group, and Ekko’s the first to move his feet.

“Time to go,” Vi says hastily, standing. Without thinking, she takes your hands and pulls you to a stand. “You a good runner?” 

No. I don’t know. I haven’t had anywhere to run in years.

That’s what you should’ve said, but as stated earlier, a life of normalcy for today. And so, you lie.

“Sure– yes, yes.” 

Vi nods at that, tightening her grasp on one of your hands as she rushes to exit along with the others. Your hands stay intertwined as the pair of you dash through the greenery, avoiding unfriendly hanging branches, jumping over logs, and ducking under leaves. 

You’re terrified. The same glistening sweat that forms in your clammy hands makes another appearance on your forehead. A prickle crawls its way up your throat, and suddenly you’re hacking into your elbow as the cowgirl guides you close to her body while you near the edge of the woods. Your little red problem pounds against your chest as if it’s begging you to stop, to give up before it does, but you can’t.

The man moves quickly, but he’s no match for adolescents of the countryside. By the time you reach the fields of your farm, he’s nowhere to be found. 

Powder’s hollering and cheers of victory sound broken, doubling and distilled, coupled with a soft ringing sound and pressure around your head that only grows the longer you stand. The only thing you can hear clearly is your quick panting. That deep red blood is draining from your head and blazing heat is left in its place. 

A blurry and distant Violet comes into your impaired vision, and you feel the soft sensation of her cupping your face with worried hands. “Cherry?” 

Your mind’s swirling with thousands of sensations, and your terrified breaths grow increasingly shallow until you can’t fight to stay awake any longer, falling into the arms of Vi. There’s yelling, someone scooping you up into their protective arms, orders being thrown around as you’re rushed towards the house, then silence. Complete and utter silence. 

The female lead is on your screen twirling and rolling her hips with glee for the third time this week, and you wonder if you'll get a chance to dance like that.

It’d been three days since you fainted after running from the farmer down the trail, three days since you’ve seen Violet (or any of the farm helpers), and three days since you’ve felt that inexplicable warmth in the pit of your stomach. 

While you rendered unconscious, Vi and the others scrambled to get your limp body inside. They laid you out on your bed, arguing about whether or not to call for help, because they had no clue what was wrong with you.

Of course, you woke up a couple minutes later as you always do. You were confused and terrified, but strictly instructed to rest by the friends who promised they’d stay until your father arrived. Fatigued even more than normal, you complied.

When your father arrived home an hour later, he stumbled upon Powder placing an ice pack on your sleeping head, Claggor and Mylo pacing the room in worry, Ekko attempting to research what exactly would have caused your current state, and Violet looking sick to her stomach as she cradled your soft hands in her rough ones; praying to whoever’s up there that you’d be fine. 

Needless to say, once they’d confessed to leaving for the woods and running back (leaving out every bit alcohol related), he’d been beyond furious, placing you on total lockdown for recovery and demanding the helpers avoid the farm for a couple of days. After you’d gotten your medication in you and recovered after a full day of rest, he chewed you out too. ‘You know I’m just trying to keep you safe.’

But you didn’t want safe anymore, you wanted life. 

And Violet walked right through your front door. Literally.

The pinkette runs a hand through her fluffy hair before securing the cowboy hat back on her head. Her eyes are searching the house for the kitchen when they land on you, and a wave of relief washes over her.

“Hi, angel.” 

Your heart speeds up, and this time, you don’t need to question it. 

“Hi Violet,” you coo shyly, standing from your comfy position on the couch and making your way over to her, hands clasped behind your back. 

She wastes no time cradling your face in her calloused fingers, the pair of your soft breaths filling the silence as the girl looks over you, finishing her personal assessment before swiping a thumb across your cheek in gentle comfort. 

“I was so worried about you,” the whisper fell from her lips without shame. 

“I’m fine, really.” you speak in the same tone, leaning into her sweet hand.

“No, you’re not.” That catches you off guard. “When your father saw what happened he panicked, said something about your heart and thought you were…” she let your mind fill the blank with a glint of pain in her blue-gray eyes. “You wanna tell me what’s going on?” 

Your eyes drop to the floor, and before you have time to think about it, you speak. “I’m sick. The bad kind of sick that doesn’t just go away after a couple days.” you can’t look her in the eyes as you speak, just placing a finger to your chest. “I have a ‘bad heart’, as my father puts it. Don’t have a lot of energy, can’t do much without getting too overwhelmed, dizzy spells and such..” 

You expect to see a crack in Vi’s sweet eyes, a sign of distaste, of regret for caring about a broken girl, but her gaze only softens and a tender hand moves a piece of hair from your face. 

“That why you’re cooped up in here?” she asks, even though she knows the answer. You nod. 

It’s silent for some time, and the two of you enjoy the other’s presence in such a milestone moment. 

“I have somethin’ for the five of you,” you finally speak, pulling from her affectionate grasp. She nods, wiping the worry she feels in the pit of her stomach away so that she can be there for you. You stroll into the kitchen with the cowgirl behind you, opening and rummaging around the fridge as she takes a needed seat at the marble island. 

She looks over your attire. A big bright red sweater hangs off your shoulders that covers your shorts, and a white bow in your hair that brings a smile back to her face.

You turn back around, setting down a tiffany blue cupcake platter and perfectly made white-frosted cupcakes with a purple design in the middle. You then pull out some tupperware, transferring cupcakes into it as Vi speaks. 

“They’re Violets,” she says in surprise and you giggle, only nodding your head. 

Marry me she thinks, before coming up with something more plausible to say. “Is this what you’re studying in college? You're gonna be a chef or somethin’ angel?” 

You pause before barely shaking your head. “Not goin’ to college this year.. my father says I need a gap year before ‘making any big decisions’,” you scoff, because the truth is he just can’t let you go. “Worries me though. He won’t go out and buy me any textbooks or anything, I’m gonna go stupid.” you whine.

Vi presses her lips together, clearly sharing your discontent with the situation. 

“Well, I know you’ll do great when you go. There’s already a strong brain in that pretty head of yours,” she grins. 

A smile forms against your will as you look up at the girl. 

“You think I’m pretty, Violet?’ 

She responds quickly, like the words spilled out of her heart rather than being formulated in her head. “I think you’re gorgeous. Whoever’s up there took their time making you.” 

Comfortable silence ensues as the room’s filled with pounding hearts and warm faces of passion. Finally, you finish packing up Vi’s cupcakes and place the box in front of her. She thanks you, looking to the side in thought before an idea flickers across her face. 

The girl rises, lifting the hat from her head and leaning over the marble to place it atop your surprised head. She doesn’t wait for your reaction as she picks up the cupcake box and a wooden crate from the ground (what she should’ve been doing in the first place). “Keep that safe for me until tomorrow, cherry.” 

“But isn’t tomorrow your day off?” you ask, flicking the front of the hat so it’s above your eyes.

“Yeah. I’m coming to see you tomorrow.”

The sun couldn’t set and rise fast enough. 

You waited in so much anticipation that you woke up an hour earlier, practically shoved your father out of the house with his breakfast, and spent any extra time at a mirror fixing an out of place hair or switching your outfit for the fifth time. 

You don’t know why you do– why you care so much. But before you can think too hard on it, the sound of someone pulling into your driveway blesses your ears and there’s six soft knocks at the front door. 

And so it starts with you and Vi seated on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. Your backs lean against the lower portion of the soft matter, and Vi pulls out a book. Four books, to be exact. One for each core subject.

You furrowed your brows in confusion, looking from the pile of literature to the fluffy haired girl. 

“I was thinkin’ I'd bring some textbooks to you since you can’t get ‘em yourself. I’m in my second year now so I won’t be needin’ these ones anymore.” She somehow speaks with both suave confidence and warm-faced fear in unison. “We could make it a thing, y’know. Preparing for classes together.” 

“Yes!” You speak with starstruck orbs. 

Violet laughed with relief, because if she had to be completely honest, that wasn’t the only reason she was here. She didn’t need this time to prepare, maybe a quick refresh before the year started, but she definitely didn’t need to be studying during summer. But if it gave her a chance to connect with you, she’d study until her brain burst. 

The helpers’ off days were Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. So that’s when Violet would pack her books, hop in her truck, and haul ass to your farm. Each session was the same. You’d start out in comfortable silence reading your separate texts and answering questions or jotting notes down, then Violet would make a stupid joke about a picture in the book or get sidetracked by your bookshelf of dvds in front of her, and minutes later the room would be filled with fits of laughter, fuzzy brains, and your books completely discarded. 

“‘Dirty dancing’? Damn cherry, your father know you watch this stuff?” Vi grins, sliding the movie case back into its spot along the brown wooden shelf. 

“It’s not that kinda movie, Violet. It’s like.. set in the sixties.” you huff, holding back a smile at her playful words. The pinkette takes her seat next to you on the couch, manspread legs and a cunning smirk just inches away from your face.

“And what exactly is ‘one of those movies’, doll?” she teases.

You scoff.

“I’m sheltered, not stupid.” you play, a soft hand coming up to push against the girl’s arm. 

Something flickers across the pinkette’s face before suddenly, she’s on top of you. 

You’re pushed onto your back against the plush couch as pure muscle weighs above you, powerful hands swirl at your waist before your laughter fills her ears and your hand shoots out to grab at one of her arms. The pair of you struggle for power, pushing back and forth, twisting bodies, and yelling out competitive quips. 

Finally, you smush the palm of your hand against Violet’s face, momentarily stunning her before the stronger girl grabs both of your wrists and pins them right above your head. 

Soft panting and awestruck eyes decorate the both of you. The air is tighter, every inch of your body is suddenly aware of your positions, and no words are exchanged as you savor the feeling of her touch. God you feel weak, but you don’t know whether to place the reasoning on Violet or your heart. 

Violet’s about to lose it, because with the way your sweet eyes are trailing up her body to her face, her heart is clear. 

She wants– no, craves you. Bad. 

It’s quiet for a moment longer before Vi clears her throat, reluctantly letting go of your wrists while moving back to stand. 

“We deserve a study break.” the cowgirl hums, crouching and examining the lower levels of the bookshelf. 

“We haven’t even been studying,” you throw back and fix your skirt while sitting up. Vi finds the record she’s been searching for, pulls it from its sleeve, and adjusts the player.

“Okay smart ass, we deserve a break.” she grins and the stylus hits the circular item. 

A soft, sensual song makes its way through the air. It’s older, a woman singing softly about her lover’s perfection, and you warm at the thought of a special someone fantasizing about you to the tune. 

Vi stands in the middle of the spacious room, and when you don’t move she waves her arm. “C’mere.”

You stand (a little quicker than you should’ve), and make your way over. She wastes no time, gently moving one of your hands to her shoulder and intertwining fingers with your other. As for your free hand, she tenderly places it on your waist, looking for any discomfort in your face. All she’s met with is big eyes of wonder and god, she’s screwed. 

“Just follow my lead.” she’s speaking sensually under the music, thumb rubbing at your waist. 

“Oh please, I could dance circles around you.” you quip.

“I’m sure you could, doll. But it’s a slow dance, so we work together.” Your bodies move closer as she speaks, making you smile and lose the sassy attitude for a moment. Just a moment.

Angelic vocals encase the two of you. There are only sounds of that and gentle side steps before you speak once more. 

“Did you know it was my birthday?” You stare straight into her eyes.

“Wait, what?” 

“The day we went to the woods. Is that why you asked me to come? Because it was my birthday?” you tilt your head.

She blinks twice before huffing a laugh. “No, I didn’t know. This mean I made you faint and get in trouble with your pops as a present?” 

You smile to yourself at the coincidence, holding her hand a bit tighter. 

“Have you danced with someone like this before?” she asks.

You shake your head before pausing. “Well, once with my mother, but I was very little.” 

Vi’s eyes soften a bit more. “Is she..?” 

You nod. “It happened when I was eleven. She had the same problem as me, that’s why he’s so protective.” Your voice is soft as you refer to your father. “I understand him, I really do, but I’m just so tired of being separate from the world.”

The girl can only nod, the hand around your waist snakes around to your back and pulls closer until your bodies are almost plush against each other. 

“Thank you for trusting me with that,” she whispers. And suddenly, there’s soft giggles. You’re laughing because the tough, suave cowgirl you know can be such a sap. 

Your laughter dies down and you shake your head before placing it between the crook of Vi’s neck, softening into your sappy cowgirl. “Talk to me about something good,” you hum.

“I’m takin’ you out on a date Friday.” 

Your eyes widen and you pull your head back to look her in the eyes.

She stammers and mentally groans because you’re the only one who could ever make Violet Lane stammer. “Well– if you say yes.” 

No.

That’s what you’re supposed to say, and what you should say. Not because of your father’s influence, not for your safety, but because you’re afraid. Afraid of the trouble you could get Vi into, of dealing with the unknown, but most importantly you were afraid of hurting her. 

While you aren’t bedridden, your life is fragile, and the thought of being a burden to Vi was heavy and present. How long could she stand you until she got tired of your neediness? How long until she’s tired of hearing about all the things you can’t do? She’s spontaneous, reckless, fun, and you thought she deserves to end up with someone just like that. Someone you’re not. 

But right now, you want her, and she needs you, so you give her what you can. 

“Of course,” you agree with a genuine, toothy smile, and the pinkette sighs of relief. 

The song finally comes to a stop. 

For the first time, you’re glad your father works all day long, because there’s no way you could sneak someone as loud as Powder around your house. 

Her squeals of embarrassment and your laughter echo from the kitchen throughout every room of your home. Your canvases and paints are neglected as you point an accusatory finger at a message on her screen. A message from ‘Ekko <3’. 

“I knew it! The way you talk to each other– ‘Oh Ekko! You’re just so smart,’” you mock her, making the girl’s face change colors faster than you’ve ever seen. 

“I do not say things like that!” She yells back, making you giggle harder. “And we aren’t dating.” 

“Why not?” you whine. You clasp your hands as if a plea is about to fall from your lips when a ding rings throughout the room. You look down and gasp. A message from ‘Lux <3’. 

You pause, eyes flickering to the girl. “Do you have everyone saved with a heart?”

She shakes her head. 

“Just those two?”

She nods. 

“Oh, this is just like the movies!” Your laughter repeats like a loop. The girl groans at you and moves her phone to the other end of the marble countertop. “I’m kidding– awhh, Powder!”

She shakes her head. “This conversation is all the way over.”

It takes a moment for your giggles to die down, and soon you’re nudging the bluenette’s shoulder with yours gently. “You’ll make the right decision, just don’t waste time overthinking it. Follow your heart.” 

She raises her eyebrows, picking up her paintbrush. “I could give you the same advice.” 

You scoff out a laugh, gaze landing on your taunting medications in the corner of a counter. “My heart is fighting itself. Wants two different things at once. Certainly can’t have both.” 

“Then follow your mental heart, not your physical one.” 

You pause, brows furrowing as you look at her with suspicious eyes. “Did Violet..” 

Powder shakes her head before you can finish. “No. She can keep a secret, especially for you. I connected the dots on my own,” she shrugs, swiping an electric blue line across the clean canvas. “Y’know, the meds, how protective your father is. Once, on one of your bad days, I looked through a window and saw you sitting down a third of the way up the stairs looking all dizzy and breathless. You fainting just tied it all together,” she hums. 

You burn holes into the ground with your utterly ashamed gaze.

“I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, but you should live the life you want rather than being trapped in one you yearn to escape. And you can count on that big baby to protect you.” You let out a little laugh, nodding at the younger girl’s sweet words. 

“Oh yeah, she wanted me to give you this. Dummy forgot it yesterday.” 

Powder sets the brush down and rummages around her tote bag that lays on the counter, pulling out a tiny black velvet box and handing it to you before turning back to her self-proclaimed masterpiece. 

Your heart swells in the best way possible, and you flick open the little clasp to reveal a thick golden ring with two red dots and a green leaf in the middle. It’s accompanied by a small white note with bright red writing.

‘Happy birthday, cherry.’

“I knew they were together!”

You stare out of the windows of Vi’s truck into the town square. Your gaze is fixed on Miss Medarda and Mister Talis, who are sitting suspiciously close to each other on a bench near one of the decorative fountains. 

Vi fixes her dark brown hat as a laugh escapes her. “No way, he’s always chatting up this guy– one of the professors at U.P.” Vi refers to her college, and it takes you a second to understand. 

“His hand was on her thigh, Violet. That was pure romance.” 

Vi pauses, seemingly focused on the road ahead, but the lightbulb look behind her eyes that appears makes you think otherwise. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll see who’s right.” she jokes after remembering she hadn’t responded. 

Vibrant sunlight hits almost every inch of the truck and illuminates the town that passes by as the pinkette turns down a road surrounded by greenery. You spin the gifted ring on your finger once, then twice, out of nervousness. It’d been years since you left your house for anything but the doctor’s, let alone a date. A thousand and one possibilities whirled through your mind, but were quickly flushed out at the sound of Vi’s voice. 

“I see you got your gift,” she smiles, eyes flicking away from the road down to your ring and back. “I like how it looks on you.” 

She was skilled at putting up a flirtatious and unbothered front, because on the inside you had her absolutely melting. Out of all ten options, you chose to secure her gift on your left ring finger. 

You’ll be the death of her, no doubt. 

“It’s perfect,” you look over to her with hearts in your eyes. “Thanks, cowgirl.” 

She nods, eyes flickering back down before she takes her right hand off of the wheel and down to thumb the end of your shorts. “I like these too, real damn pretty.” 

You giggle, and somehow the swarm of butterflies in your gut doubles in size, because instead of returning to the wheel, the girl’s hand is delicately placed onto your inner thigh. Her calloused hands gently cup your skin, and she’s grateful you can’t read minds because she’s terrified of your potential reaction.

You can’t fight the smile that crawls its way onto your warm face. The only thought that runs through your mind is how this is even better than the movies.

“Well I hope I’m dressed well enough for whatever we’re doing today. Wish you woulda told me.” You finally reply, softening under her touch. You swear you hear her let out a little sigh of relief. 

“That’d ruin the surprise. I’ve gotta wow you.” she sends you a wink and your laughter fills the car with joy. 

It doesn’t take long until you’re pulling into the driveway of Violet’s house. It’s beautiful, all brown and white with flowers out front that Powder planted herself, high school graduation yard signs, and fresh open space. Still, a panicked look sets on your face. 

“Wait, wait, Vander’s gonna see me– he’ll tell my dad,” you stammer.

Vi cuts the engine, gently taking a hold of your chin to redirect your gaze as she speaks reassuringly. “Hey, hey. He’s not here you worrywart, won’t be home until late tonight.” Your eyes soften and you sigh. “Besides,” she starts, “we’re going over there.” 

Just past the house is a matching white and brown barn-esque building. Stables.

“She’s so big!” you yell with awestruck eyes as Vi pulls the red roan out of the stables by the lead. “What’s her name? When’d you get her? Wow I’ve never seen one of these up close, mama was afraid of ‘em and my father doesn’t ride.” You speak at rapid fire making Violet snicker. 

“Slow down,” she instructs, standing between you and the hairy beauty. The girl takes your hand, placing it on the horse’s shoulder, giving you the okay to pet. “Her name’s Gunner, she was my fifteenth birthday present, and I can’t imagine your pops getting anywhere near a horse.” You playfully hit her with your unoccupied hand. 

“Gunner,” you whisper, “badass.” 

Vi chuckles, because swearing sounds so foreign to you.

“You ready?” She asks, slipping her black riding helmet on your head.

“Wait, what?”

“You think I brought you here just to stare at her?” she smirks, completely mesmerized by your face while tightening the straps of the protective gear. “We’ll go slow this time, I promise. Okay?” 

The promise of this happening again makes your heart flutter, and all of the gears in your brain stop spinning before you respond, “Okay.”

She helps you onto Gunner, patting the small of your back before hopping up right behind you. Her warm arms snake around your waist and grab hold of the reins in her hands. Her muscular front is smushed against your back, her head placed inches to the right of yours. 

“Now, gently squeeze his middle with your calves,” she instructs.

You obey, and the red roan begins its walk. It’s slow, peaceful, but such a new experience to you that a sweet gasp of surprise falls from your lips. 

The two of you sit in silence, appreciating the comfort of each others’ presence and warm golden light shining upon you as the beauty of nature captures you. In the green pasture of Vi’s fields, you feel like you’re breathing for the first time in five long years. 

Gunner simply walks for a few minutes as you point out pretty flowers that you pass and Violet mentally compiles a bouquet for you. Vi’s talking about her years as a kid in this field. When she’d lost (and found) her favorite toy bunny out here, or dared Mylo to walk through the vast field at the dead of night. Suddenly you’re begging to see some baby photos. 

It’s at this moment that everything’s easy. Vi’s admiring everything about you with eyes of love when–

Gunner’s neigh sounds like a shriek of terror when three birds zip past, spooking the roan into a 180 and bolt away before Vi can make it out of her trance. 

You yelp from the sudden change in speed, almost slipping off of the animal, but Vi’s there to keep you securely fastened against her as she takes control of it. Just as fast as it changed, Gunner’s speed slows to a stop. You can feel just how tense Vi is as she speaks. 

“Shit. I’m so sorry, doll. She gets spooked so easily and– god, I’m sorry for scarin’ you.”

It’s silent for a moment. The scariest moment of the pink haired girl’s life, because she can’t see your twinkling grin that spreads from ear to ear before you laugh. 

“That was so cool!” you beam, leaning forward to pat at the horse. “Not so badass though, huh?”

After a few more apologies and you repeatedly telling Vi that it was fine, you two decided it was best to turn in for the day. 

You sigh, sitting against the short wooden fence. “I wanna rest for a minute, that okay?” ‘I need to take a rest, I don’t have any energy’ is what you actually mean, but you choose not to worry her. 

She wastes no time plopping down onto the grass next to you, eyes raising to the baby blue sky. She gives you a few moments of silence, sneaking glances at your face every so often, before speaking. 

“Powder and Claggor were talking about how awesome it’d be if we took you to a Seraphine concert. Think you’d like her music a lot.” she hums, smiling to herself. 

“And one day, I'm gonna take you line dancing so we can settle our little debate once and for all.” Her grinning face is inches away from you and her overpowering scent of amber and musk ensues. 

“Oh really?” Your voice is soft as your head turns, looking Violet up and down with half-lidded eyes. “I think..” 

You quickly mount Vi’s lap, pushing the girl onto her back and pinning those muscular arms right beside her head with both of your hands. You’re both all giggles and grunts, and even though there’s no way you’d stand a chance against her in a real tussle, she lets you win. 

You lay there, one atop the other in a field of colors. The tension is so thick that not even a knife could cut it, and your grip softens when tender hands reach up to cup your face, a thumb stroking your cheek. The sun, her hands, her sparkling blue eyes, and the love radiating between the two of you has you all but melting. You’re leaning down, inching closer each second, and just before Vi’s dreams come true, you stop. 

You pull back with newly glossy eyes, dismounting the girl while whispering apologies that get lodged in your throat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” 

You want nothing more than to connect your lips and hearts, but you were so afraid. How long until she resents you? How long until it’s over? You’d grown accustomed to heartaches, but never heartbreak.

But Violet craves you more than plants crave water, she needs you more than the Earth needs the sun. You just don’t know it. 

“Hey,” she whispers, sitting up and holding your chin as if routine. “Look at me, angel.” 

You comply with built up tears that threaten to stain your cheeks. 

“You don’t have to apologize for something like that,” she consoles, never looking away from your softened eyes. “We can go as slow or as fast as you want, okay?” 

You wipe your tears with the side of your hand, choking out your words. “I just– I don’t want to disappoint you.” I don’t want you to hate me once I’m gone. 

“Disappoint me?” She stiffles out a laugh. “You don’t know how bad I want you. But I’ll wait until the end of time if you ask me to, hell, I’d lasso the moon and bring it down if you wanted.”

That makes you sniffle and let out a breathy laugh, bringing Violet some relief. The girl slowly inches forward to make sure you’re completely okay with it before placing a warmhearted kiss to your forehead. It’s quick and simple, but causes an eruption of butterflies in your gut. Soon, your troubles are forgotten. 

“Let’s get you home, yeah?” 

“What’d I say about keeping this door open?” Vi raises a brow, leaning against the doorframe as she stares at an unbothered Powder who’s doing her mascara, and a flustered Ekko. 

“Must’ve been the wind.” Powder mutters.

“She wouldn’t listen!” He raises his hands in innocence from his position on a neon pink beanbag.

It’s silent before the three burst out in laughter, and Vi’s shaking her head as they catch their breath. 

“Hurry up though, we’re gonna be late to Laurier’s.” 

“Not today, Vi.” Vander’s voice bellows from behind her, making her turn her head with furrowed brows. “He gave the five of you a day off.” 

A smile graces Ekko’s lips and Powder is whooping in the back, but Vi’s lips drop into a subtle frown. 

“Awhh,” Powder coos, “poor Vi doesn’t get to see her girlfriend today, how ever will she live?” 

The teens snicker, but the pinkette notices the uneasy look on his face, the one where he has something to say but just can’t spit it out. “What?” 

The burly man runs a hand across his beard with a sigh. 

“His daughter.” The entire room pauses. “She's terribly ill today, bedridden. He’s staying home to watch over her so there’s no need for far–”

Vander doesn’t get to finish his explanation, because Vi’s pulling the keys from her pocket and rushing past him towards the front door. 

It takes almost running three red lights and a long, torturous talk with your father about being able to speak to you just for an hour, but at your bedroom door stands Vi, taking off her hat to look at you with big worried eyes. “Cherry,” she calls out. 

You feel absolutely horrendous. 

Your breaths are shallow, your ankles feel swollen beyond belief (you thanked god Violet couldn’t see them from under the blanket), and your eyelids weighed a thousand pounds, threatening to drop from fatigue. 

“What’s going on? What can I do?” she asks, wasting no time walking over to your pretty bed and taking a seat right next to you. 

You shake your pillow-elevated head, laying on your side to face her with a soft smile. “Can’t do anything, it’s just a bad day.” You reach a hand out to grab her calloused one and intertwine your fingers. “Just glad you’re here.”

“How’d you get past my father?” you whisper, relaxing into the soft matter.

Vi huffs out a laugh, readjusting to lay down as she speaks. “Convinced him that I’m extremely knowledgeable in this area because I’m studying to be in the medical field. So he thought it’d be fine if I watched over you while he feeds the cattle.” 

You giggle with a teasing look. “Oh yeah, what have you learned?” 

“Cherries are good for the heart,” she says all ‘matter of fact’ like. “They have potassium and antioxidants to reduce inflammation.” 

“I should be the one calling you cherry, then.” You hum. You don’t know how much it means to Vi to hear that she’s ‘good for you’.

It’s quiet again, and you spend time shamelessly looking over every inch of the girl’s face, landing on her powder-blue orbs. “You know, your children would have some beautiful eyes.” 

“And yours would be beautiful all around,” there’s not a trace of doubt in her voice. “What would you name them?” She asks and throws out silly names as you look around in thought, “Batman? Lice? Maddie?” 

“How is Maddie as bad as those names?” 

“I just don’t like it!”

Your giggles fill the room before you shake your intertwined hand. “Maybe either.. Josie or Clementine? They sound.. warm. Safe.” 

Vi nods, pulling you closer into her chest and draping an arm over you that cradles your back, “Josie it is.”

Your ears burn as you nuzzle into her. “And we’ll live in a big pretty house in the city, surrounded by noise and culture and life.” You wished so badly. 

“We?” Vi asks.

“Me, Josie… and you.” You look up at her with the last of your body’s strength. “If you’ll join us.” 

That spark in Violet’s stomach has grown to a full fire heating her body. Her dream girl’s lying in her arms, talking her ears off about their hypothetical future together, all while looking up at her with pupils blown wide as if she’s your knight in shining armor.

“Of course,” she agrees, “but we’ll have to bring Rusty and Gunner along.” 

You snicker with a nod. “Sounds perfect.” 

There’s a glint in the girl’s eyes as she trails her hand up your back to the soft skin of your face. “A pretty house, an adorable daughter, my rascal animals,” you let out a weak laugh, “and my pretty girl to share it all with.”

Your heart skips a beat. “Yours?” you tease.

“Yeah, mine.” 

She’s tracing meaningless patterns on your neck with one hand while tucking a piece of hair behind your ear with the other. And god, whatever this feeling is it’s too good, too sweet, too sensual. Your waiting lips are slightly agape in awe, and it doesn’t take long before Vi whispers, “Can I?” 

This time, ‘yes’ is the only word that pops into your brain and slips from your mouth as Vi’s lips crash into yours. 

Her lips are melting into yours with so much intensity that it’s hard to keep up. You let her take the lead while your scents, minds, and tongues mix together in a bundle of passion. Her grip around you never loosens. Fingers thread through your hair, and her slightly chapped lips dread leaving yours, because your kisses are the air she needs to breathe. 

A whine falls from you when she reluctantly pulls away from your sweet mouth, placing four chaste kisses on your cheeks, nose, and forehead. 

“You need to rest,” she coos, peppering your forehead with another (much needed) kiss, and keeping the close proximity as her arms wrap around you. There’s no argument, because the adrenaline rush from her kiss is wearing off and that wave of exhaustion snakes its way back. 

There you lay, bodies intertwined and souls tying as the sound of Vi’s healthy heartbeat lulls you to sleep. 

Once you’re out, you stay sound asleep as Vi hesitantly leaves your bed.

You stay sound asleep as she trots downstairs where your father places weights of guilt upon her, claiming he knows you two have been sneaking around, and it’s her fault you’re in this current state. 

You stay sound asleep as he demands she doesn’t return to the farm, permanently. 

With every inch of your worn down heart, you hate Violet Lane. 

And while deep down you know that’s not the slightest bit true, you still act like it. 

When you woke up the next day, the birds singing and a beaming face as you skipped downstairs to hug your father good morning, the last thing you expected was to hear the all too confusing news that Vi had quit. Along with the rest of her siblings and friend just an hour after. 

Unfortunately, you were none the wiser, and slowly sulked up the stairs and sank into your bed where you cried yourself back to sleep. 

For the first couple days, it didn’t make sense. The way she looked at you with those big puppy dog eyes, her tender care, the ways she spoke to and about you, it all seemed so real. It had to be real. 

On day three, you decided that acting was just one of her many skills. 

By day four, you had it figured out, or so you thought. Vi was a flirtatious asshole who wanted nothing more than some street credit for kissing the untouchable, locked up, sick princess right under her overbearing father’s nose. Coming to and believing such a conclusion felt like a stab in the side, and the knife only twisted when you factored in the fact that the others must’ve known about this, which is why they left alongside her. 

You thought you’d become accustomed to all of the heart pains in the world, but you were wrong.

Tears fell from your eyes like a waterfall until they grew dry, your baking pans yearned to be used but were shoved away into a cabinet, and what hurt the most was knowing your father was right for keeping you locked up all these years. You weren’t free, but you were safe. 

Finally, on day five, you’re engulfed by the plush matter of your couch when there’s six knocks at the door and someone’s calling out for you: “Cherry?” 

You scoff at her audacity. 

When you storm over and yank open the door with the meanest glare Vi’s ever seen from the prettiest girl she knows, you’re met with Ekko leaning against your white picket fence with his arms crossed, Powder standing next to him with a worried face, Claggor and Mylo relaxed against Vi’s bright red truck, and said truck-driver right in front of you looking absolutely sick. 

And you slam the door right in her backstabbing face.

“Seriously?” Vi huffs out, earning a stifled laugh and whistle from Mylo.

“Go away, Violet.” You yell through the door, voice the sternest she’s ever heard.

“Fuck no. What’s going on?”

“Why don’t you tell me?” you counter, back pressed against your barrier. “You got all that you wanted from me, and then you quit and disappear from my life. So why are you back, huh?” 

You’re lucky you’re packed with pent up anger, because tears are bubbling in the corners of your eyes and yelling is the only thing keeping them from spilling over.

“What?” the pinkette's completely taken aback, because she has no clue what you’re on about. 

“That’s not–” she sighs, lowering her voice before speaking. “I’ll never get enough of you. I’d take a thousand kisses and so, so much more if you’d let me, but that’s not why I see you, angel.”

Your eyes soften and hurt brows furrow because damn, she’s a good actress. 

“And I didn’t quit. That afternoon when you fell asleep, your old man practically dragged me out of your house and fired me. Said I caused your symptoms to worsen. I thought I’d lay low for a few days– and believe me when I say these were the hardest days of my life, but I didn’t want to get you in any trouble.” 

Your bottom lip is bitten red until you finally cave, creeping the door open just enough to show your face.

“You promise?” you ask, and Violet’s heart is aching. 

“Cross my heart.” she replies.

That’s all it takes for you to swing the door open and jump into her arms. She stumbles back in surprise before applying the same force, arms wrapping around your waist as she melts into yours cradling her neck. 

You’re sniffling, taking deep breaths before you speak. “Really thought you left me,” you croak out. 

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” she teases, placing a tender kiss on your forehead as you giggle and blink away tears. 

“Now go get changed, we’re going out,” a grin tugs at the corner of her lips when your happy eyes make contact with hers. You blink, an idea flashing across your face, before pulling her inside by the wrist, yelling “just a minute!” to the others, before hastily shutting the door. 

Violet’s eyes graze over every last atom of your body as your hips sway in front of her, babbling with Powder about who knows what, because she hasn’t been focused since you dragged her into your bedroom ‘innocently’ needing help with your outfit. 

She stood in your doorway curiously, thinking she’d only be there for a second, maybe you’d never been to a rodeo and needed advice. 

That was, until you paused at your walk in closet, a cheeky smirk on your lips that Vi desperately wanted to taste as you nod your head towards the bed. “Sit.” 

And she obeyed, manspread legs at the edge of your bed as you walk infront of her with a few items on white hangers. All frills, lace, denim skirts and shorts, and Vi’s reasonably concluded she died and went to heaven. 

“I could wear..” you shift the hangers around, “this with this skirt, or maybe these shorts and.. ooh, these boots match my panties.” You get a rise out of seeing the usually suave girl short circuit at the words that bless her ears. Definitely in heaven. 

But Vi came to the realization that she was, in fact, alive. Because her heart truly stopped beating when she helped you settle on your pieces, threw her a sugary sweet “thanks, Vi,” did a casual 180, and stuck your ass out to drag your skirt down painfully slow. 

Oh, those boots do match your panties. 

Now here you stand in a lacy red top, denim shorts that have her thanking god for your creation, and matching cherry red cowgirl boots that graced her eyes the first day you met. 

Neverending chatter fills your ears from other attendees, the overwhelming scent of kettle popcorn from a nearby booth stuffs your nostrils, and you see Ekko nudge at Vi, saying something that you can’t hear over the bluenette beside you talking your ear off about the stunning horses she sees. 

Suddenly, Vi’s walking up to you and smushing her hat onto your head with her famous smirk. “Keep it safe for me, doll?”

You nod mindlessly, a hand coming up to fix its position on your head. 

“Where ya goin’?” Powder calls out to the platinum blonde boy who’s ushering Vi to hurry up.

“Our annual face off,” he throws her a wink, and the girl’s rolling her eyes with a playful scoff. 

Before you can even ask, she’s locking arms with you and dragging you along to an even more crowded area. There’s various groups of people surrounding a blocked off area containing a big, black, circular inflatable mat. And directly in the middle is a mischievous brown mechanical bull. 

“Are they..” and your question is deemed useless when Ekko mounts the hairy machine, pumping his hands up in motion for the crowd to whoop and holler. Of course, they do. 

Ekko does good, to say the least.

One hand grips the bull while the other is thrown up into the air as the machine thrashes him and his white locs every which way. The intensity increases as it tauntingly speeds up, thrashing harder, and spinning recklessly. Finally, he’s bucked off, rolling to a stand and flashing his pearly whites as the crowd cheers.

A giggle falls from your mouth as your hip nudges Powder who’s in complete awe, and she warms in embarrassment. 

Vi and Ekko fake tension, sending joking competitive glares as they switch places. Now it’s the pink haired cowgirl that’s mounting the mechanical animal. 

You never thought you’d be admiring this sort of thing, but Violet’s never fails to twist your stomach in knots.

With a hand gripping the bull and the other resting on the back of her head, she bucks her hips back and forth to counter the thrashing machine. She’s focused, her sculpted muscles flexing as she holds on tight, but a cocky smile is plastered on her face with teeth biting down on her rosy lips. 

Surrounding girls (including yourself) are wooing at the sight. 

Vi makes it through the most chaotic shakes and spins as the bull finally comes to a controlled stop, and you’re cheering louder than you ever thought you could. 

“Woo! Hell yeah!” you cry out. The girl’s cheesing harder than ever when she hears your support, and the smile lasts all the way over to a fake booing Ekko who rolls his eyes and slips her a twenty dollar bill from his pocket. 

You and Powder unlock arms to move over to the riders. A chuckle of amusement spills from you, and you’re securing Violet’s hat back over her fluffy hair. “That was real impressive, cowgirl.” 

“Yeah?” she coos. 

“Yeah.” The atmosphere grows heavier, each of your eyes searching the other’s like there’s treasure to find. But your little staring contest as Claggor speaks. 

“Earth to lovebirds,” he hums politely. “You coming?” 

You’re quick to nod, but Vi gently holds your wrist, making you pause. “Actually, I wanted to show cherry around some more. Catch up later?” She asks, but she’s already pulling you away before Claggor nods in agreement and the group goes in the opposite direction as you. 

You speed up, feet coming into step with the girl who’s needily pulling you. Her silent prayers are answered when she spots a more secluded area behind a building and some fences. 

“Vi,” you snicker, cheeks warming in nervousness, “what are we doing?” 

She hums through half lidded orbs, hands finding their place on your hips and hastily pushing you against the wall that covers the two of you from the eyes of others. You’re looking up at her with the sweetest glint in your eyes and it’s driving her absolutely mad. 

“You said I was real impressive, right?” Her voice is smoother, breathier. 

Ohh.

You tilt your head, teeth chewing on your abused bottom lip before you mutter. “That’s right.. think you deserve a reward, huh?” 

“Exactly what I was thinkin’, sweetheart.” 

The newfound nickname is sending a shiver up your spine that transforms into a blazing warmth when Vi’s lips fit into yours like puzzle pieces. This time, messy limbs are thrown over each other. Your hand travels from her hands that are cradling your heated face, down to her abs (making her shiver as you scrape your nails across), to tangle in what pink locks aren’t captured by her hat. 

A strong hand makes its way around your waist, pulling you dangerously closer to rub against her body. God, she’s good at this.

“Vi..” you’re finally able to whisper as she trails kisses along your jaw and down to your neck. You can feel her smirk against the area where she peppers you with affection. 

And it’s perfect.

Not just the way she’s kissing you, or the fact that you’re kissing at all. It’s the environment, the feelings, the friendships that you’ve made with the others, the fact that for today, you’re living a normal life. It’s the fact that for a moment, you can cheer on your friends in a competition, you can lock arms with a friend and woo over others, you can get lost in passionate kisses with a girl and not have another care in the world. 

You wished it could stay this way forever. 

You lose all sense of shame, letting a soft grunt slip from your lips at the feeling of teeth and a ‘pop’ on your neck. It’s only a matter of seconds before both of your eyes widen and Vi’s pulling back with a crooked smile on her face. 

“Did you..” 

She wordlessly eyes the red-purple love bite forming on the back-side of your neck, just below your ear. 

“Violet!” you drag out with a whine, sending her into a soft fit of laughter. She feels guilty, but you’re just too cute. 

You have a love-hate relationship with the neon lights that are beaming throughout the spacious room that brings more noise than you’ve heard in the past five years– maybe more than your entire life. 

On one hand, the flashing colors are starting to give you a major headache. On the other, the red glow that decorates Violet’s face as she grins down at you has your insides doing summersaults. 

Nevermind. You love the lights. 

“C’mon y’all,” Powder calls out with a chipper expression. Ekko’s standing properly in line and his blue haired companion, who’s already freestyling, spins out of control and squeals up a storm. 

“You ready?” Vi’s words kiss your ear as she holds both of your hands, pulling you out to the dance floor. 

“Are you?” 

Your sass has her laughing, and she brings her tongue out to wet her bottom lip. “Follow my lead, cherry.” 

And for a few moments, you do. All of the surrounding crowd dances the same to the upbeat, fast-paced country song that pierces your ears, so you replicate Vi’s mixed steps and cute little head tilts with her hand on that chocolate hat. 

But then the song changes, it’s more passion filled and fiery. All it takes is Powder spinning out of line and shamelessly making her own moves before you’re formulating the steps in your head. From movies you watched religiously to mindlessly shuffling your own feet late at night, you danced for the little girl who longed to have fun, who longed to be free. 

You’re clicking the heels of your boots against the ground, moving your hips as fluid as water, and bringing your hands up just for them to slide down your sides with a heart-stopping smile tugging at your lips. 

Violet’s in awe, because her girl’s fearless and full of smiles, and she couldn’t be happier for you. 

And there’s no doubt in her mind that this is the only girl she’ll ever want, need, crave. 

She whistles, looking up and down with the most amused expression you’ve ever encountered. “Jesus, alright you win, doll.”

“Yeah?” The tease comes out a bit breathless, but you play it off as dancing too wildly.

You look at the pink haired beauty through thick lashes. Inching dangerously closer as you sway, Violet’s hands have a powerful hold on your soft waist. You stumble over your feet once, then twice, and she notices. 

“Slow down there cowgirl,” she chuckles, but her gaze is tender under the carefree mask. “You alright?”

It’s unbearably toasty in the room, and you feel two times hotter with each passing second. But you don’t want it to end, so you wave her off, throwing out an “I’m good!”

But you’re not, and it’s evident on your face when the small ‘headache’ turns to tight pressure smothering your scalp, and you’re losing your balance as you search for an exit. 

“I just need some air,” you mumble, turning your head. The room shifted under your feet, vision blurring in a haze. You took three measly steps forward, and on your fourth, you crumbled.

Your body gives out under you, and Vi’s right there to catch you when it does. Her arms snake around your waist to hold you up before she lifts you in her arms with big eyes and wavering lips. 

“Shit. Ekko, come here! Powder, go get Mylo and Claggor.” 

The five haul ass to Vi’s truck, the pinkette tossing her keys to Ekko as he and Mylo hop in the front. She, Claggor, and Powder take seats in the bed of the truck. When you finally come to, your back is laid against Vi’s worrisome chest, and you get the fresh air you were looking for from the speed Ekko’s driving to get you home. 

But when you pull into the driveway of your home, there’s already a car waiting for you, and there stands your father with his arms crossed and pure fury in his eyes. 

And you’re in so much fucking trouble. 

The others attempt to plead your case, in good ways and in bad, as the man scolds everyone in sight.

“Mister, we just went out to dance.” 

“She’s not a child you know, you can’t keep her cooped up here forever.”

“Please just understand.” 

Everything goes in one ear and out the other, because in the chaos silently sits you and Violet. You’re still breathless, and this headache is gonna last longer than you want it to, but you relax into the warmth of Vi for one last time. 

You pull back, ignoring the spike of pain that flashes across your brain, and turn to the girl with a tight lipped smile. “I’m sorry, you guys should just go.” 

She looks pained, like she wants to say something, she wants to help. But she nods, placing a chaste kiss to your temple just as you’re sliding out of the truck bed and over to your father. He hastily drags you inside while you bid farewell to your moping knights.

With every inch of your worn down heart, you love Violet Lane. 

And you’re not an idiot, you’re sure she loves you too. 

That’s what makes coming to a conclusion impossible on almost every level. 

Your physical heart says this is the most idiotic decision you’ve made in your entire life. You’ve had worse symptoms than normal, you’re putting yourself in danger in the name of ‘fun’, and the thought that’s lingering in the back of everyone’s mind is one you can’t ignore: just how long will you make it? 

Your mental heart says this is the best thing you’ve ever done. You’re happy, you’re in love, you have real friends, and you’re finally starting to see the point in living. Not just from a tv screen or the books your father supplies, but through your own eyes and experiences. And even though your father seemed overbearing, you know he’s afraid. He’s taken on all of the worry and stress so that you don’t have to. If you wanted something to change, you had to take the leap yourself. But you’re not sure you can.

There’s six knocks at the door, and you stay seated in your position on the couch. “It’s open,” you call out.

The clack of familiar boots enter the room, and a wave of musk and amber suffocate you when Vi walks past you to sit at your side. 

It’s silent. Not your comfortable, daydream filled state of silence that Vi could watch you in forever. It’s awkward, strangulating silence, and she can’t take it.

“Yesterday was..”

“...amazing.” “A mistake.��� 

You speak at the same time, eyes flickering at each other's response. 

“What are you talking about?” Vi asks, setting her textbooks down. You don’t miss the newfound waver in the back of her voice. 

You don’t respond. You don’t want to go through with this conversation.

“..Is this about the hickey?” she flashes a strained smile, “I’m sorry if he saw it, doll. Reall–”

“This isn’t a joke, Violet.” you finally speak, eyes strictly trained down on your fiddling hands in your lap. The tears are bubbling at your eyelids and that itchy, sore feeling is crawling its way up your throat. 

“Then what is it about? You and your dad? Look, I can talk to him, I’ll make things right.” Her voice is increasingly wavered, desperate, scared. 

“Our–” you inhale a shaky breath, “– this, us, whatever we are is an inconvenience. An inconvenience to my father, an inconvenience to my health, an inconvenience to you.” Your voice breaks with the last word. “I’m a burden Violet, face it.”

You can’t see it with the tears blurring your vision, but Vi’s shaking her head in horror. “No. No, what are you going on about? You aren–” 

“God just face it, Vi. All you wanted was to love a girl and you got a defective one.” You spit the words out like they sting on your tongue. “Soon, you’ll be annoyed by everything I can’t do and bored of everything I can.” 

“Maybe we’re just not…” you can’t continue as silent tears transform into quiet little sobs. 

Vi’s heart aches as she kneels down on the floor in front of you, examining your now puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. She wants nothing more than to kiss the pain away, but first she has to fix that worrisome little mind of yours.

One hand intertwines with your anxious ones, and the other reaches up as rough fingers delicately hold your chin, a soft thumb rubs back and forth against your cheek. She whispers out your name with a voice that’s holding back sadness of her own. When you’re finally ready to look at her, she smiles delicately.

“You don’t know how bad I want you. But I’ll wait until the end of time if you ask me to. I’d lasso the moon and bring it down for you if you asked.” You recognize her sweet words from your first date, and you’re weakly melting into the palm of her hand that’s sliding to cup your face. 

“I meant it then, and I mean it now,” she whispers. “I will never be annoyed by what you can or can’t do– god, I'd sit here and talk to you about slugs all day everyday if that’s what you really wanted.” That has you scoffing, fighting back a smile at her silly words. 

“Love isn’t about the activities you can or can’t do, it’s about a connection, our connection, and what we do with it. So, you can get rid of me if this is all true and that’s what you really want, but I will never stop loving you.” She’s speaking so sweetly, and before she even finishes her sentence you’ve made up your mind. 

“You’re good for my heart, cherry.” 

Those are the last words she can get out before you’re throwing yourself forward and locking lips with the love of your life. 

It starts off slow, soft, an apology for the rollercoaster of emotions and blunder of nonsense you put yourselves through. Then, Vi’s hands are cupping your face and the back of your head while yours are thrown around her neck. It’s needier, sloppier, and her tongue slipping into your mouth shows it’s moved from an apology to ‘let me make you feel better’.

You hum into the kisses with pleasure, but you wanted more. Needed more. Without hesitation, you slip a hand under Vi’s tight t-shirt, running a hand up and down her abs.

The action sends a shiver down her spine, and you gasp in surprise when the sculpted girl wraps your legs around her waist and lifts you into her arms. 

You’re giggling as she walks up the stairs and into your bedroom. Your litter smooches down her jaw and to that neglected neck, mimicking what she’s done for you. Vi slips a hand under the back of your shirt, making you hum into her neck at the warmth. 

Pop.

A devilish grin graces your angelic face when you pull back, eyes flickering from Violet’s to the bruise on her neck. 

The girl grins, catching your mouth in a wet kiss. “You’re asking for more, y’know,” she warns, and her lustful eyes are turning your brain to mush.  

“Good. I want more. Need you all over me,” 

Your confident words are canceled out by a sweet gasp that leaves you when Vi bucks her hips. 

“You’ve gotta say it then,” she orders.

“Say.. what?” 

She chuckles. “Tell me what you want, baby.” 

You swear there’s a pool of slick in your underwear. 

“Want you to fuck me till I cum, please please please,” you beg, hiding in the crook of her neck.

“Fuck,” is all she can choke out, because she’s never wanted wanted a girl this fucking much. Your begging is all she needs to hear before she’s stripping you out of your top, unclasping your pretty bra with one hand, and flipping you over onto your back. 

You’re throwing your head back with a soft moan, running a hand through her pink strands while Vi latches onto one of your rock hard nipples. Her hand trails down your abdomen and to your pretty little skirt. The fabric slides down your legs and off your delicate ankles, and the girl’s gawking at your panties. 

“Vi, please please,” you moan in impatience. 

She lets out a cruel chuckle, fingertips pulling down the fabric that’s completely drenched by your arousal. 

Holy fuck. 

She’s moving faster now, pulling her shirt over her head, and you don’t have a chance to drool over her bare muscles as she sits against the headboard of the bed and pulls you back by your hips into her lap. 

Your back’s pressed against her chest, and she pulls your legs apart making cool air attacking your lips. One arm hooks under your knee and holds tight, making sure you stay perfectly spread for her. 

“Suck,” she whispers, and two of her calloused fingers are shoved in your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the nubs, letting drool pool around them as Vi looks down at you like she wants to ravish you. 

“Wanted to touch you like this for so long.”

Her fingers are dragging out of your mouth and down to your sensitive slit to your swollen clit. You’re already messily bucking your hips against her as she pushes soft circles against your bundle of nerves. 

She relishes in the way your eyes roll back before she decides she’s done being a tease, sinking her wet fingers into you three full knuckles deep. 

“Violet– holy fuck yesyesyes,” you whine, quickly closing your legs at the newfound pleasure. But Vi’s pulling them right back apart as she pumps into you faster.

She peppers kisses on your temple, whispering sweet nothings about how you’re ‘so damn pretty’ and she’s been dying to see your ‘fucked out face’. 

“Yeah, oh fuuck.” you squirm under her control, a knot of passion and pleasure building in your gut. 

“Yeah? Yeah, baby?” She speaks breathily. The way she’s mocking you and the depth her fingers are reaching is sending you right over the edge. Your toes curl while writhing pleasure shoots through your body, and all you can see is stars. 

“Fuck fuck, I’m– hah,” 

Vi’s shushing you softly, keeping her speed and strength as your cunt tightens around her fingers. 

Your moans are like angels blessing your ears as you cum, gushing on her skilled fingers. 

The only noises in the room are your exhausted pants, the slick of your cunt as Vi pulls her fingers out terribly slow, and the bed shifting under the absence and reappearance of pure muscle. 

Except this time, the pinkette’s knelt in front of the bed. 

She pulls you to the edge by the soft skin of your thighs, and piercing blue eyes joined by a warm pink tongue threaten to have you wheel-chair bound by morning. 

“Let me clean you up, angel.” 

Despite being near nothing but muscle, Vi’s bare body is incredibly comfortable. 

“And he made a giant splotch of paint on the wall with his ass.” 

You gasp, choking out a little giggle of shock as Vi tells you stories of her childhood, specifically all the stupid situations they got themselves into. The just-right bath water is engulfing your intertwined bodies. Vi’s fingers are threading through your hair as your head rests on her shoulder. Your body sits in between her legs, and your arms lazily drape around her waist. 

“How mad was Vander?” you ask.

“He just… laughed. I’ve never really seen him mad, just disappointed at times.” She shrugs. “He knows kids make stupid mistakes, learn, and grow.” 

You hum, nuzzling further into her. “I hope I’m that calm when I’m a mom,” 

You pause.

“If I’m a mom.” 

That strikes right through Violet’s swollen heart, and she shakes her head, holding you a little closer. 

“You’re gonna be perfect.” She reassures. “Josie.. Gunner.. Rusty, Daisy, and our big beautiful city house are going to be so lucky to have you. I’m so lucky to have you. Never gettin’ rid of me.

You smile against her skin, placing a loving kiss. 

“Even if it takes ages for my pops to understand?” you mutter. 

“I don’t care if it takes a millennium.” she states confidently, a tender kiss graces your forehead before she looks you in the eyes.

“I love you, cherry.” 

And this time, you’re done holding back.

“I love you, Violet.” 

Your fingers, hearts, and lips intertwined as you share your most passionate kiss yet, one of the many for years to come.

Five years, to be exact. 

And five years later, as the blood refuses to circulate throughout your body and your heart ceases to beat, you die in Violet's arms.

Through her sobs and shattered heart, she can only smile at the fact that all the way until your death, she helped you truly live.

silknspice

[seat-safety-switch]

Investigator Pistachio stands in my foyer. Ever since I inherited that nut plantation on the edge of town, the local cops have been up in my business. No doubt sent by my competition, who probably were the ones who rubbed out my beloved great uncle, whatever his name was.

"We got a hot tip that you might be growing peanuts," sneered Pistachio, so obviously in on the joke that he might as well be winking at me as he delivered his mustache-twirling threat. "You know those things are legumes. You're not cleared for that in this sector."

Of course I knew. Everyone knew. Back in elementary school, during the weekly peanut-facts classes, they drilled it into you. Some of the kids resisted. How could it be true, if they had "nut" right in the name? They suffered on the standardized provincial tests for peanut knowledge, I'll tell you that much. Like 30% of your grade. One of the kids who stood on principle, well, I saw him the other day working at the gas station. He seemed to be doing quite well for himself, and had a lovely family waiting at home.

My mind raced. Peanuts, here? I had not seen every square inch of the property, it's true. How could it be possible? My great uncle had only popped his clogs a few short months ago, and most of the time since then had been tied up in probate court. Even once I got the keys to the place, well, I spent almost all of those hours doing doughnuts on the lawn using his ancient Massey-Ferguson. Those old tractors can really get after it. Certainly, if there were peanuts, I hadn't planted them, but such a statement wouldn't pass muster with the cop apparatus bearing down upon me.

We walked out into the fields. Pistachio vectored towards a distant corner, near the highway, as if he knew exactly what he expected to find there.

"You know," I started talking to make conversation, "pistachios aren't really nuts, either. They're some kind of fucked-up seed."

My elementary-school bullying experience had paid off. He rose to the occasion, needled by hearing the same jokes he had been the victim of his entire professional career.

"Culinary nuts are still considered nuts, even if they aren't true biological nuts," spat the crooked cop.

I clicked off the tape recorder. I had what I came for.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Are the means of computation even seizable?

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me in PITTSBURGH in TOMORROW (May 15) at WHITE WHALE BOOKS, and in PDX on Jun 20 at BARNES AND NOBLE with BUNNIE HUANG. More tour dates (London, Manchester) here.

Something's very different in tech. Once upon a time, every bad choice by tech companies – taking away features, locking out mods or plugins, nerfing the API – was countered, nearly instantaneously, by someone writing a program that overrode that choice.

Bad clients would be muscled aside by third-party clients. Locked bootloaders would be hacked and replaced. Code that confirmed you were using OEM parts, consumables or adapters would be found and nuked from orbit. Weak APIs would be replaced with muscular, unofficial APIs built out of unstoppable scrapers running on headless machines in some data-center. Every time some tech company erected a 10-foot enshittifying fence, someone would show up with an 11-foot disenshittifying ladder.

Those 11-foot ladders represented the power of interoperability, the inescapable bounty of the Turing-complete, universal von Neumann machine, which, by definition, is capable of running every valid program. Specifically, they represented the power of adversarial interoperability – when someone modifies a technology against its manufacturer's wishes. Adversarial interoperability is the origin story of today's tech giants, from Microsoft to Apple to Google:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/10/adversarial-interoperability

But adversarial interop has been in steady decline for the past quarter-century. These big companies moved fast and broke things, but no one is returning the favor. If you ask the companies what changed, they'll just smirk and say that they're better at security than the incumbents they disrupted. The reason no one's hacked up a third-party iOS App Store is that Apple's security team is just so fucking 1337 that no one can break their shit.

I think this is nonsense. I think that what's really going on is that we've made it possible for companies to design their technologies in such a way that any attempt at adversarial interop is illegal.

"Anticircumvention" laws like Section 1201 of the 1998 Digital Millennium Copyright Act make bypassing any kind of digital lock (AKA "Digital Rights Management" or "DRM") very illegal. Under DMCA, just talking about how to remove a digital lock can land you in prison for 5 years. I tell the story of this law's passage in "Understood: Who Broke the Internet," my new podcast series for the CBC:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/05/08/who-broke-the-internet/#bruce-lehman

For a quarter century, tech companies have aggressively lobbied and litigated to expand the scope of anticircumvention laws. At the same time, companies have come up with a million ways to wrap their products in digital locks that are a crime to break.

Digital locks let Chamberlain, a garage-door opener monopolist block all third-party garage-door apps. Then, Chamberlain stuck ads in its app, so you have to watch an ad to open your garage-door:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/09/lead-me-not-into-temptation/#chamberlain

Digital locks let John Deere block third-party repair of its tractors:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/08/about-those-kill-switched-ukrainian-tractors/

And they let Apple block third-party repair of iPhones:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/22/apples-cement-overshoes/

These companies built 11-foot ladders to get over their competitors' 10-foot walls, and then they kicked the ladder away. Once they were secure atop their walls, they committed enshittifying sins their fallen adversaries could only dream of.

I've been campaigning to abolish anticircumvention laws for the past quarter-century, and I've noticed a curious pattern. Whenever these companies stand to lose their legal protections, they freak out and spend vast fortunes to keep those protections intact. That's weird, because it strongly implies that their locks don't work. A lock that works works, whether or not it's illegal to break that lock. The reason Signal encryption works is that it's working encryption. The legal status of breaking Signal's encryption has nothing to do with whether it works. If Signal's encryption was full of technical flaws but it was illegal to point those flaws out, you'd be crazy to trust Signal.

Signal does get involved in legal fights, of course, but the fights it gets into are ones that require Signal to introduce defects in its encryption – not fights over whether it is legal to disclose flaws in Signal or exploit them:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/05/theyre-still-trying-to-ban-cryptography/

But tech companies that rely on digital locks manifestly act like their locks don't work and they know it. When the tech and content giants bullied the W3C into building DRM into 2 billion users' browsers, they categorically rejected any proposal to limit their ability to destroy the lives of people who broke that DRM, even if it was only to add accessibility or privacy to video:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2017/09/open-letter-w3c-director-ceo-team-and-membership

The thing is, if the lock works, you don't need the legal right to destroy the lives of people who find its flaws, because it works.

Do digital locks work? Can they work? I think the answer to both questions is a resounding no. The design theory of a digital lock is that I can provide you with an encrypted file that your computer has the keys to. Your computer will access those keys to decrypt or sign a file, but only under the circumstances that I have specified. Like, you can install an app when it comes from my app store, but not when it comes from a third party. Or you can play back a video in one kind of browser window, but not in another one. For this to work, your computer has to hide a cryptographic key from you, inside a device you own and control. As I pointed out more than a decade ago, this is a fool's errand:

https://memex.craphound.com/2012/01/10/lockdown-the-coming-war-on-general-purpose-computing/

After all, you or I might not have the knowledge and resources to uncover the keys' hiding place, but someone does. Maybe that someone is a person looking to go into business selling your customers the disenshittifying plugin that unfucks the thing you deliberately broke. Maybe it's a hacker-tinkerer, pursuing an intellectual challenge. Maybe it's a bored grad student with a free weekend, an electron-tunneling microscope, and a seminar full of undergrads looking for a project.

The point is that hiding secrets in devices that belong to your adversaries is very bad security practice. No matter how good a bank safe is, the bank keeps it in its vault – not in the bank-robber's basement workshop.

For a hiding-secrets-in-your-adversaries'-device plan to work, the manufacturer has to make zero mistakes. The adversary – a competitor, a tinkerer, a grad student – only has to find one mistake and exploit it. This is a bedrock of security theory: attackers have an inescapable advantage.

So I think that DRM doesn't work. I think DRM is a legal construct, not a technical one. I think DRM is a kind of magic Saran Wrap that manufacturers can wrap around their products, and, in so doing, make it a literal jailable offense to use those products in otherwise legal ways that their shareholders don't like. As Jay Freeman put it, using DRM creates a new law called "Felony Contempt of Business Model." It's a law that has never been passed by any legislature, but is nevertheless enforceable.

In the 25 years I've been fighting anticircumvention laws, I've spoken to many government officials from all over the world about the opportunity that repealing their anticircumvention laws represents. After all, Apple makes $100b/year by gouging app makers for 30 cents on ever dollar. Allow your domestic tech sector to sell the tools to jailbreak iPhones and install third party app stores, and you can convert Apple's $100b/year to a $100m/year business for one of your own companies, and the other $999,900,000,000 will be returned to the world's iPhone owners as a consumer surplus.

But every time I pitched this, I got the same answer: "The US Trade Representative forced us to pass this law, and threatened us with tariffs if we didn't pass it." Happy Liberation Day, people – every country in the world is now liberated from the only reason to keep this stupid-ass law on their books:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/15/beauty-eh/#its-the-only-war-the-yankees-lost-except-for-vietnam-and-also-the-alamo-and-the-bay-of-ham

In light of the Trump tariffs, I've been making the global rounds again, making the case for an anticircumvention repeal:

https://www.ft.com/content/b882f3a7-f8c9-4247-9662-3494eb37c30b

One of the questions I've been getting repeatedly from policy wonks, activists and officials is, "Is it even possible to jailbreak modern devices?" They want to know if companies like Apple, Tesla, Google, Microsoft, and John Deere have created unbreakable digital locks. Obviously, this is an important question, because if these locks are impregnable, then getting rid of the law won't deliver the promised benefits.

It's true that there aren't as many jailbreaks as we used to see. When a big project like Nextcloud – which is staffed up with extremely accomplished and skilled engineers – gets screwed over by Google's app store, they issue a press-release, not a patch:

https://arstechnica.com/gadgets/2025/05/nextcloud-accuses-google-of-big-tech-gatekeeping-over-android-app-permissions/

Perhaps that's because the tech staff at Nextcloud are no match for Google, not even with the attacker's advantage on their side.

But I don't think so. Here's why: we do still get jailbreaks and mods, but these almost exclusively come from anonymous tinkerers and hobbyists:

https://consumerrights.wiki/Mazda_DMCA_takedown_of_Open_Source_Home_Assistant_App

Or from pissed off teenagers:

https://www.theverge.com/2022/9/29/23378541/the-og-app-instagram-clone-pulled-from-app-store

These hacks are incredibly ambitious! How ambitious? How about a class break for every version of iOS as well as an unpatchable hardware attack on 8 years' worth of Apple bootloaders?

https://pluralistic.net/2020/05/25/mafia-logic/#sosumi

Now, maybe it's the case at all the world's best hackers are posting free code under pseudonyms. Maybe all the code wizards working for venture backed tech companies that stand to make millions through clever reverse engineering are just not as mad skilled as teenagers who want an ad-free Insta and that's why they've never replicated the feat.

Or maybe it's because teenagers and anonymous hackers are just about the only people willing to risk a $500,000 fine and 5-year prison sentence. In other words, maybe the thing that protects DRM is law, not code. After all, when Polish security researchers revealed the existence of secret digital locks that the train manufacturer Newag used to rip off train operators for millions of euros, Newag dragged them into court:

https://fsfe.org/news/2025/news-20250407-01.en.html

Tech companies are the most self-mythologizing industry on the planet, beating out even the pharma sector in boasting about their prowess and good corporate citizenship. They swear that they've made a functional digital lock…but they sure act like the only thing those locks do is let them sue people who reveal their workings.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/05/14/pregnable/#checkm8

[ninibeingdelulu]

His biggest fan ✧

Plot: You’re Michael’s girlfriend, cheering him at one of his games.

A/N: It’s so bad I hate it😓

The roar of thunderous cheers flooded the stadium as Michael unleashed another stupefying display of lethal precision and brute physicality that defied mortal comprehension.

You watched with breathless awe seated front row as that signature blue mohawk wove a hypnotic cyclone of calculated ferocity carving apart the helpless defense trailing hopelessly in his wake.

Each savage yet eerily choreographed burst from Michael's heavyweight strides reverberated across the pitch warping the boundaries of space and time itself directly proportional to his gravitational soccer supremacy.

Until the entire cosmos distilled into that infinite singularity split-second with just your striker boyfriend, the ball and the yawning maw of the goal awaiting its inevitable oblation.

You bit down hard stifling the visceral shudder trying to escape as Michael's rocket-powered thunderbolt smashed past the defenseless keeper and ignited the back of the net in a blaze of cosmic glory.

Celebrating with that bone-chilling sovereign roar staking his unchallengeable dominion once more before this mortal realm of sporting conquest still so far beneath his transcendent plane of greatness.

Even after the final whistle sounded you remained spellbound observing Michael bask in those rapturous post-coital moments savoring his ineffable feat.

Utterly transfixed upon the hyper-masculine sculpture of your man still slicked with the spoils of carnal supremacy while casting that chiseled nordic profile against the floodlit heavens he reigned sovereign over.

Until his peripheral laser focus abruptly snapped in your direction lancing directly through your aura with a telepathic tractor beam manifesting into actual physics-warping forces.

Almost like each molecule surrounding Michael compressed and bent inward before being shunted aside clearing his path towards you with terrifying inevitability.

You barely had a chance to brace yourself as the unstoppable tsunami slammed into your front row section without mercy or resistance.

The concussive shockwave blasting through your senses while those titanium bulwarks materialized around you scooping your diminutive frame against Michael's furnace-stoked musculature with crushing intensity.

"My sweet empress…I could only hear your voice back there. It motivated me, thank you.”

His rough-hewn bassline resonated against every nerve ending vibrating at some untapped primordial stratum while you strained to surface through the endless whitenoise overloading your synapses.

Only Michael's low gravitic pulses penetrating the oblivion flooding your faculties from that unholy cosmic union now peeling away every layer keeping you distinct individualities during submersion into this event horizon state of indistinguishable polarities collapsed together.

Until finally resurfacing from that singularity after an eternity compressed into nanoseconds - though still deliriously consumed by the aftershocks rippling across your intertwined vessels smoldering in the embers of rapturous conflagration yet still ravenous for more extreme escalations eternally rebirthing from the expended remains!

Only the roaring crescendos from those frenzied supporters still filling the stadium slowly penetrated the vacuous void reverberating between you both savoring that suspended infinitesimal post-orgasmic bliss together.

You felt Michael's stern facade gradually reassemble while withdrawing from your interiors just fractionally enough to restore individuation-yet sense his alpha dominion expanding throughout your reconstituted synaptic matrices cementing his reign over your fused polarities once more.

Then with a subtle shift his smokey granite stare cleaved directly through the veil drawing your reawakened senses under that spellbinding trance spellbinding instantly.

A hushed imperious rasp now caressing your essence from that primal domain where all worldly laws bent to his sovereign decrees:

"Why don’t I reward you tonight, huh, meine liebe ?”

Just experiencing the infinitesimal microcosm of his supreme essence bleeding into your rematerialized corporeal vessel already whiplashed your senses through multiple clinical deaths and resurrections beyond this plane's dimensional limits.

His seismic vibrational frequencies triggered endorphin avalanches detonating every neurotransmitter into frenzied paroxysms anticipating the ineffable escalations still awaiting together...

[lvrhughes]

Pumpkin Patches | J. Drysdale

pairing: Jamie Drysdale x fem!reader

summary: Jamie and his best friend go to the pumpkin patch, leading to a confession.

word count: 1.13k

warnings: none

requested: no

not my gif!

“Please, please, we have to go. It’s a once in a year thing!” you begged, your hands pressed against each other as you pleaded at Jamie, standing in front of the Canadian boy in his own home, blocking him from the front door.

“If I agree, will you let me out of my house?” His voice held a hint of sarcasm, not that you’d pick up on that now. 

“Yes! Yes, you’re free if you promise to come.”

He’d never tell you that his question was sarcastic, especially upon seeing the shine in your eyes once you’d thought he agreed. So he did. 

“This is so dumb, it’s all couples.” 

So maybe you hadn’t thought it through taking your best friend, who you may have had a crush on, to a pumpkin patch in the mid of october. But you were sure it’d be fine. 

“It’s fine Jam, we can do our own thing. We’ll be better than the couples.” You grinned, linking your arm through his to bring him through the field.

He followed swiftly, keeping up with your rapid movements as you ran towards anything that piqued your interested, including the random scarecrow that stood guard in the middle of the field. 

“That thing’s so creepy.” Jamie muttered, watching you run towards the figure with a smile on your face, turning to beg him to take your picture with it. 

He complied, as much as he found the thing creepy, he’d do anything for you. Even if it meant standing by a demented scarecrow longer than necessary.

You quickly grabbed his hand after, bringing him deeper into the fields of pumpkins. Stopping suddenly, Jamie practically walking into your body as you moved to kneel to the ground. 

“What are you doing?”

“Jam, it’s perfect.” Your voice was filled with awe, picking up a tiny, oddly deformed, pumpkin from the ground. 

“What?” He looked dumbfounded, staring at the pumpkin you held while you put your hands out to show him. 

“I’m taking it home.” 

Jamie shook his head, he had no argument, how was he going to tell his best friend her pumpkin was stupid? He wouldn’t. 

“Okay, are we done here now?” 

Having been at the patch for the last two hours, running through the fields with the girl he harbored a crush on for years, he grew tired. 

“No, we still need to get hot cider and go for a ride on the tractor!” 

He simply nodded, allowing you to take his hand and lead him back towards the entrance. Taking him to the booth of hot apple cider just beside the gates, leading him to stand in line whilst you held onto your tiny pumpkin. The line moved quickly, letting you and Jamie get you drinks within five minutes, leaving you standing waiting for the tractor to come back for another round of rides. 

A shiver ran through your body, the wind having picked up nearing the end of the day, you held the warm cup closer to you. Jamie moved quickly, shoving his jacket off and around your shoulders, wrapping his arms around you to keep you warm. 

It was a peaceful moment, waiting for the owners to return with the tractor, the sunsetting in the background whilst you swayed in Jamie’s arms. 

“Excuse me,” a woman’s voice interrupted the moment, she held a camera and a shy smile on her face, “Would you mind if I take a photo of y’all for our website? You two just look so cute.” 

You looked up at Jamie, waiting for his answer, he mumbled a soft ‘sure’ towards the woman before she picked up her camera. Aiming it towards the two of you whilst you smiled for the picture, hearing the click of the shutter as she thanked you again. 

“I think she thought we were dating.” Jamie spoke first once she left, his arms still wrapped around you as he spoke, running softly up and down your body.

“Do you think that’s a bad thing?” 

“No.” 

You looked up quickly, trying to gauge the reaction on his face as he stared back at you, yet the tractor seemed to arrive before you could further an explanation. 

“Last ride of the night!” The farmer exclaimed, urging the few people who stood around you and Jamie onto the tractor, loading you both last. 

The ride was peaceful, the sunset melting into gorgeous colors around you while Jamie kept his hold on you, his arm never leaving your waist for the ride. It was a ten minute ride, yet it felt shorter, yearning for longer when you had to get off. Jamie jumping down softly, reaching his arms out to help you down before collecting your pumpkin and ciders you’d left on a hay bale before the ride. 

“For you, M’lady.” He joked, passing you the, now lukewarm, cup of cider and the tiny pumpkin. 

“We’ve got to pay for the pumpkin then we can leave.” You spoke, taking a sip of the cider whilst walking towards the makeshift counter. 

Dropping the pumpkin on the counter in front of the woman, she all but laughed, smiling at your choice of pumpkin before speaking. Jamie’s arms wrapping around your waist as you listened to the woman, letting his warmth surround you. 

“This is your pumpkin of choice, sweetie? You can have it, on the house.” She grinned. Passing the pumpkin back to  you. 

“Really?” 

“Really, it’s yours. Now have a lovely night you two.” She spoke  softly, waving her hands to signal for you to leave, smiling at her as you walked away. 

“You got a free pumpkin, how do you feel?” Jamie asked, opening the passenger door once you’d made it to his car. 

“This was amazing, thank you for coming.” 

Jamie smiled at the words, sliding into the driver's seat with ease, starting the car to turn the heat on in seconds. His gaze falling to you quickly, catching your eye when you stared back at him. 

“Can you kiss me now?” 

Jamie’s mouth dropped at the words, staring at you like you’d spoken Spanish to him before he collected himself. Leaning further over the center console while keeping his gaze on you, staring at your lips before he spoke. 

“Only if you’ll agree to be my girlfriend.” 

“I think I can agree to that.”  

You smiled, watching the smile grow on his face as he reached over. Cupping your jaw while he leaned to press his lips against yours, letting you melt towards his while fireworks seemed to ignite throughout your body. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long.” Jamie whispered, pulling away to rest his forehead against yours. 

“I’ve been wanting you to do that for so long.” You whispered back, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips again.

[valyrfia]

f1 drivers as tracks from the tortured poets department: a very abridged and very biased list.

DISCLAIMER: this is all for fun and should be taken very lightheartedly. Not all drivers were included, but I am open to suggestions as well as constructive criticism.

Without further ado:

CHARLES LECLERC - I Can Do It With A Broken Heart

Absolutely suicidal lyrics that should be mildly concerning but all in all very upbeat and makes you want to run around doing side quests. Such as write an album, or open an ice cream shop. I'm thinking this is specifically 2022 Charles when he trusted no one at Ferrari, or mid-2023 when everyone was calling him washed and calling for his teammate to be n1 driver, and then he proceeded to put it on pole in a tractor multiple times and still hasn't finished outside the top 5 since. Either way, I am looking forward how this song will hit when Charles gets his eventual championship.

MAX VERSTAPPEN - Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?

This one is for Mad Max, who was thrust onto the world stage as an untested young prodigy at seventeen, who was called too young and immature and proceeded to win a GP upon debut in a top team, who was called Crashtappen from 2015-2019 and labelled as overly aggressive to his detriment, who was painted as a villain by every media outlet and documentary and DTS episode, who said "fuck the haters" and won championships anyway, who broke records, and made his own national anthem the expected song for every podium. A driver who is fast approaching greatest of all time status, for his win streaks alone. A driver that most others now just shrug about, because there's no shame in not choosing to fight the inevitable.

LEWIS HAMILTON - So Long, London

Ah, the heart-wrenching track of letting go of your long-term British relationship that doesn't serve you anymore. So many lyrics from here I could apply to the rumoured break down of amicable relations between Lewis and Mercedes, the team he won six championships with. From "My spine split from carrying us up the hill" to "I didn't opt in to be your odd man out. I founded the club she's heard great things about" to "you say I abandoned the ship But I was going down with it. My white-knuckle dying grip. Holding tight to your quiet resentment". Honestly, I could copy and paste all the lyrics here and they would apply to Lewis' Merc swan song. Taylor wrote "you swore that you loved me but where were the clues, I died on the altar waiting for the proof." about Abu Dhabi 2021.

CARLOS SAINZ - The Prophecy

Carlos has been delivering some of the best drives of his career this season, but it doesn't matter because he's not the chosen one, he's not il predestinato, he's not the son of Maranello. No matter what he does, he would never have kept that Ferrari seat over the mythos of Charles Leclerc. "Let it once be me. Who do I have to speak to, to redo the prophecy?"

LANDO NORRIS - Guilty as Sin?

Specifically given for half-flirting with Red Bull for most of last season, only to shake himself out of it and re-sign with McLaren, but I have one eye on him, not entirely sure he's given up on the Red Bull daydream, and Red Bull have been open about wanting to get him, if they can. It's all on Lando to stay faithful.

OSCAR PIASTRI - Fresh Out the Slammer

Piastrigate continues to inspire and compel an entire generation of F1 fans, and as such should form the basis of Oscar's song selection. What was the promises that Alpine made him, if not "Gray and blue and fights and tunnels Handcuffed to the spell I was under For just one hour of sunshine"

FERNANDO ALONSO - Florida!!!

Florida!!! is a big and powerful song about being a Shakespearean villain with a History and questionable morals and motives. Who is that if not Fernando Alonso? "Tell me I'm despicable, say it's unforgivable." "Is that a bad thing to say in a song?"

LANCE STROLL - But Daddy I Love Him

Yeah this one is self-indulgent and too good to resist. He's singing it about Fernando btw. Next.

DANIEL RICCIARDO - Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus

Someone is getting that Red Bull seat next year, and every name is on the list except Daniel Ricciardo. "As the decade played us for fools, you saw my bones out with somebody new." Who knows what would have happened if Daniel hadn't left Red Bull, all those years ago? "Just say you loved me the way you were" Oof. We could spend years living in the What Ifs of it all.

[askvectorprime]

Dear Vector Prime, has there ever been a group of Cybertronians who have taken the alt modes of agricultural equipment? If so, can you please tell me more about them? Thank you very much.

Dear Farmer Friendly,

Certain versions of Cybertron, particularly during peacetime, are home to the Agricultural Guild. This organization oversees the farming and cultivation of fuel sources such as energon crystals, and as such many of their members take on the form of farming machinery. In one reality, an energon farmer named Megatron bristled against the Agricultural Guild, who enforced what he saw as archaic inefficiencies while refusing to offer any support to the lunar colonies. In another, the Guild was led by Brushguard, a talented but arrogant agriscientist; though Alpha Trion, head of the Guilds Domesticus, valued his advice, Supreme Commander Ultra Magnus never entirely trusted him, believing that his ambition might lead him to turn against the Autobots some cycle.

I assume, however, that you are asking about Cybertronians who have taken part in the Great War. Farming equipment is, I admit, much rarer amongst the Autobot and Decepticon armies; lacking either obvious military function or the practicality of common road vehicles as disguise, most farmers choose to undergo reformatting into a different alternate mode once they join up as soldiers.

The one major exception I can think of is the Decepticon Thresh. A hulking brute of a soldier, Thresh scanned a combine harvester upon arrival to Earth, and stubbornly refused to reformat away from it—he found it too much fun to menace humans, chasing them down as they tried desperately to escape his whirling blades. This bullheaded attitude eventually paid off for Thresh, as he was tasked with sabotaging Earth's defenders by destroying their farms and other sources of food. To aid him in this task, he was assigned the Agricons, a quartet of drones that transformed into agricultural machinery: a Tractor Drone, Grain Truck Drone, Loader Drone and Baler Drone, the last of which could be towed by the Tractor Drone. Thresh himself was also upgraded with Power Core Combiner technology, allowing him to combine with his drones to form a super mode, letting him take his love of destruction to a new level.

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Brazil's mysterious tunnels made by giant sloths

These tunnels were once believed to hide religious fortunes deep in their chambers, but the real treasure is found in who – or what – created them.

In 2009, a farmer was driving through his corn field in the south of Brazil when he suddenly felt his tractor sink and lurch to one side, making the vehicle shudder to a halt. He jumped out and saw the wheel had sunk deep into the dry soil.

Much to the farmer's shock, the tractor had broken through what looked like top of an underground cavity. Hearing about this unusual find, researchers came to investigate and were surprised to find a tunnel nearly 2m high by almost 2m wide and about 15m long running across the field and right under the farmer's house. Deep claw marks embedded into the walls indicated its past occupant was not human.

The farmer had stumbled upon a puzzling subject in palaeontology that is still unfolding today. He'd uncovered a megafauna paleoburrow, a prehistoric tunnel dug through rock by what Luiz Carlos Weinschutz, a geologist and one of the scientists who visited the farmer's property, concluded was the work of a giant ground sloth or giant armadillo from at least 10,000 years ago.

These giant ground sloths, described in one paper as "a hamster the size of an elephant", were far removed from today's unhurried, tree-dwelling ones. They grew up to 4m long and walked on all fours, although research suggests some could stand and move bipedally. Almost 100 different species of sloths roamed the Americas between 15 million to 10,000 years ago alongside car-sized giant armadillos that also dug long tunnels through rocks in Brazil.

Continue reading.

[just-some-user-hunny]

Soft comforting Pino headcanons...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~ Sitting on your bed and folding some clothes you managed to wash with palodinos help, and pino graces himself into the room and just lowers himself upon his knees to slump his head in your lap.

It makes you laugh, his face squished against a pair of socks that was sat in your lap ready to be folded, so you just speak softly to him and pet his face. His hands cradle your ankles and his eyes droop closed, relishing in the gentle pleasant sensation of your touch.

Just him looking up at you with his opulent blue eyes, his eyes are so pretty and doe-like with dark lashes framing them. A very slight smile graces his expression when you start tracing his freckles, and you can't help but fuss over him because he's so sweet :(.

(This was his plan all along to get your attention, but you don't need to know that)

. Waking up in bed with both the large orange cat sleeping on your stomach, and pino moulded into your side, his face nuzzled warmly into your shoulder. His arm is across your torso and petting the cat, and the feline is purring so loudly.

You don't dare move, both because you can't bear to disturb such an endearing sight, but also because both are so heavy you're a little pinned 😅

When everyones awake, you just spend the lazy morning to pet the cat- palming over its ears and watching its little content face smile at you and puur like a tractor.

(Ok but pino shifting his face a lil to look at you, and you notice the movement and look at him only to find him staring at you intensely with unblinking eyes all because he wants fussing over too. His eyes will fall shut when you eventually start combing your fingers through his hair)

. Wearing one of his blouses to bed and using it as pyjamas. It's so silky and soft against your skin, it feels heavenly beneath the sheets. The sleeves are long and puffy on you. Overall it's a little big and Drapes on you, but that makes it extra comfy <3

. Ok but being half asleep and cuddling with Pino in your bed, and in a daze Pino slips his legion hand up the back of your blouse to rub your back a little, but the sudden coldness meeting your skin wakes you immediately and shriek a little 😰

Pino has never looked so spooked, and he rips his arm away from you at once. He may earn a swat to the arm, at which he'll very lightly pout :( (you're still half asleep, mind you).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 7

While writing The Pirate Planet, Douglas Adams considered that Xanxia could be the Master or the Master's daughter when trying to figure out her motivations.

When he met his Ninth, Tenth, and Twelfth incarnations, the Eighth Doctor was pleased to see them acting as childish as ever.

While excavating Ice Warrior Citadels, Bernice Summerfield had sex with a man named Tim in the egg chamber.

The Second Doctor once saw the musical Hamilton.

Upon meeting the Twelfth Doctor, the Eleventh Doctor thought he was the Master.

Ace has dreamt of being naked and stabbing people before.

The Doctor was friends with Mao Zedong before he rose to power (although he "probably wouldn't listen" to the Doctor after his rise).

Om-Tsor is a drug that the Eighth Doctor once took A LOT of in order to telekinetically stop missiles.

The Second Doctor took Jamie back in time to kill a would-be dictator as a baby as well but was also unable to go through with it.

The Sixth Doctor once commented on his resemblance to Commander Maxil to Peri Brown.

According to the Eighth Doctor, an imminent regeneration feels like "a caterpillar wrapping itself in a chrysalis."

The Eleventh Doctor once said that regenerating in a morgue is something you should only do once.

After receiving word that the Master had died, the Fifth Doctor took Tegan and Turlough to his funeral in the nursing home he had died in. This was a trap, of course, and the Master tried to steal his remaining regenerations. Turlough had to save the Doctor.

As a Time Lord, the Doctor often has flashes of people's futures and could see someone's past when he looks at them.

The Seventh Doctor traveled alone as he got older because he couldn't trust himself with another life.

The role of Sarah Jane Smith was originally cast to April Walker rather than Elisabeth Sladen, but Walker was found to not have chemistry with Pertwee and was thus quietly paid for the contract she had signed on for. Neither Barry Letts nor Sladen ever revealed who the other Sarah Jane was during their lifetimes, and her name was only uncovered by an infotext writer during his research.

The Doctor's psychic potential is so great that even after his final incarnation's death his corpse generated a psychic call for a long time.

In several accounts, the Sixth Doctor killed himself, either after having been convinced to do so by his Seventh self, purposefully piloting the TARDIS into the Rani's tractor beam, sacrificing his chronal energy, etc. Colin Baker finds the exercise bike theory to be very disappointing (so out of respect for him, I do not consider that a possibility).

The Doctor was taught how to perform hypnosis by the Master.

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28

[caffiend-queen]

Oh, I could just EAT YOU UP! A Holidays in Hel Loki-Avengers tale.

I was re-reading this the other day when I should have been getting my new book "Captivated" finished. I'd forgotten how much fun it was writing the Holidays in Hel series... If you're in the mood for some creepy, sexy (not at once, thank god) Loki Halloween tale, look no further.

In which Loki and Mina realize that no holiday is safe from the epic round of truly bad luck that the Avengers have when celebrating the most innocent of times...

***

“You’re expecting me to do what?”

Loki was lounging - elegantly, of course - against a pillar in the huge common room where the Avengers tended to gather when not on missions or getting patched up in the Medbay. He was sartorial perfection in a bespoke Tom Ford suit in onyx. Mina paused from shoveling the candy into one of the massive bowls to smile at him, a little misty with appreciation over his sheer beauty. Her- not her boyfriend, the God of Mischief and Lies could never be called something so ridiculous, her beau? Her partner? Her… Apparently, Loki had been speaking to her because he’d paused, looking at her peevishly.

“Sorry, Loki. I was admiring how unreasonably beautiful you are in that suit, but yeah... just pass out some candy to the trick or treaters? For the media coverage? To make you look... uh... caring?”

Mina said the right thing, of course. The fine lines around his glittering emerald eyes faded away. “Of course you were, darling. This is understandable. I shall repeat myself. You cannot possibly…” He picked up a violently colored package luridly branded as “Unicorn Poop!” pinched between his thumb and forefinger, the way one might hold a dirty diaper. “...Expect me to touch these vile things, much less give them to children?” Loki’s sneer was quite credible, but Mina knew he was posturing. He liked children, though he would rather cut his hair than admit it. He had been shockingly kind to Amelia, Mina’s niece, last New Year’s when her skeevy brother and his wife dumped their daughter in her’s and Loki’s laps and hoofed it to the airport for a Caribbean vacation. 

“The candy is hideous,” she admitted, “but this is the crap kids love now, everything is ‘unicorn,’ or ‘poop.’ Or the blissful combination of both.” Loki tossed the lurid sweet back into the pile in the bowl. “Tony got a tractor-trailer full of the stuff from this candymaker he’s doing business with. The man is some sort of real-life Willy Wonka.” 

“Hmm,” Loki could even make a humming noise sound deeply disapproving. “Is that the bizarre little gentleman I’ve seen Tony squiring around the tower?"

As if he knew he’d been called, Stark strolled into the room, skirting the cases upon cases of candy piled high around the room. “I gotta admit, Horo, this is enough candy to trick or treat the entire state’s population of kids into a sugar coma.”

The man with him laughed, more of a high-pitched giggle that was startling coming from someone as hugely wide and tall as he was. In fact, his height and weight ended up forming a perfect shape of a square. He was dressed in a top hat and a bright candy-colored suit, with tufts of purplish hair sticking out at angles from his top hat.

“Remember when you watched Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory with me?” Mina murmured to Loki.

“Indeed,” he said, folding his arms, “this creature has managed to take all the most unpleasant elements of Sir Wonka and made them even more troubling.”

“Reindeer Games!” shouted Tony, “Come and meet another magician!”

Mina watched as Loki’s entire form stiffened. “Did he just refer to me as a… a magician?” Loki spat. 

“Uh, I think Tony’s already a vodka bottle in for the festivities,” she soothed. “Just ignore him.”

Nonetheless, she pasted on a smile as Tony led the bizarre creature over. Bypassing his host, the man whipped off his top hat, sweeping it low into a courtly bow. “Horatio J. LaDreamy at your service!”

They spent some time sorting through the cases of candy, Horatio holding up each one and exclaiming over its merits like parents with a baby picture. Mina attempted to go through the plan of having Horatio himself pass out the first round of candy for the media coverage. “It’s a really nice thing, if you don’t mind, Mr. ah… Mr. LaDreamy. And the kids will be so excited to meet you.”

“You’re just so scrumptious,” Horatio said, his voice hoarser now, perspiration dotting his upper lip. Leaning in, he held onto Mina’s hand, “I could just eat. You. Up.”

Her revulsion at this freak in his pink-striped shirt and his unfocused, glittering eyes was too great to hide, but his grin only widened as she yanked her hand away. “I have to…” Horatio was still staring at her greedily, and Mina backed away, “...go over… here.” 

She speed-walked over to where Loki stood with a look of profound boredom and a very nice glass of Lafite Rothschild 1999. Taking the glass from him, she downed it in one gulp. The tall, beautiful god looked down at her with the same shock and disgust normal people would reserve for murder, or terrible train wrecks. 

“You just violated that Lafite,” Loki said with deep disgust, “you just spat on it and threw it into the gutter of your untrained palate.”

“Don’t care,” Mina managed, taking the last bit of liquid in the glass, “I needed it. That man is a freak. A total weirdo.” He merely gave her his long-suffering, “Yes, I know this already” expression. “He just told me,” she said, still looking over Loki’s expensively suited shoulder at Horatio, who was now plying an unamused Natasha with an awkward-looking magic trick involving a deck of cards and a very long scarf he kept pulling from his sleeve, giggling with excitement. “He grabbed my hand and said the weirdest thing, he said, “I could just eat you up.” Loki’s eyes narrowed, and she hastened to clarify, “He wasn’t hitting on me, it was creepier. Like he really was hungry.”

Loki thoughtfully eyed the man, who’d somehow gotten tangled up in the scarf he’d been using for his ‘magic trick.’ “Some of the vilest monsters I have battled were quite benign in appearance. I shall examine this creature more closely.”

But really, what happened next was no one’s fault.

***

“Three cheers for… uh...  the… Candy Guy!” Tony was deep in his cups and Mina was just happy he was still standing, thanks to an occasional nudge from Pepper behind him.

Horatio didn’t seem to mind, smiling benignly down on the happy Stark Tower employees, most of them waist-deep in Unicorn Poop.

“Thank you, Tony, my dear friend!” He spread out his giant arms to the crowd, “And to all of you, thank you for helping me bring joy to the children! They don’t want boring old chocolate bars anymore! They want bright, sparkly candy that will make their mouths tingle and their tummies tap dance with happiness! To be honest, friends, I could not do it without you.”

The crowd chuckled, smiling up at Horatio while slipping fistfuls of candy into backpacks, purses, and bulging pockets.

“No!” Horatio said earnestly. “I really couldn’t! The sweetest and kindest among you will guarantee that the next year’s production of the Unicorn Poop candy line will be bigger and better than ever! More than double this year’s output and keeping up to with demand. I just need one thing from you to make every child in the world hold a package of unicorn poop in their chubby little hands.” He looked directly at Mina and smiled, suddenly showing many, sharp teeth. “I just need you.”

There was a violent pink explosion, cotton candy shooting in all directions and sending a spray of crystalized sugar into the eyes and lungs of everyone in the huge room, coughing and wheezing until everyone could catch their breath.

“Where,” snarled Loki in his most severe, stentorian tone, “is MINA?”

“Wh- I do not see Jane!” protested Thor.

Natasha circled the room rapidly. “Bruce is missing!”

Tony suddenly seemed to sober up. “Hey, has anyone seen Pepper?”

***

“Wh- where the hell are we?” Jane gasped, hanging on to a sagging Shanice from Accounting, whose heaving chest showed she hadn’t weathered the abduction well.

Mina, leaning against a candy-striped pillar for balance, pulled away as she realized the pillar was clinging to her hand like the creepiest possible taffy, as if it was alive, wrapping tendrils of its taffy-esque substance up her arm. “Yuck!” she whined, trying to peel the substance off her new black blouse. “If I had to guess, based on the shittiest series of holidays ever over this last year, that that psycho candymaker from hell has somehow kidnapped us and we’re in his dungeon… factory… purgatory… of candy.”

“Right you are, sweet Mina!” Horatio happily approached the group, not seeming to notice how everyone cringed away from him. “You are all here as my very special guests! As the sweetest, nicest people I’ve met this year, you’ve won the Golden Pass to tour my candy kingdom!”

“A Golden Pass?” Mina tried not to laugh. The situation was too serious, but she couldn’t help herself. Horatio was wearing a top hat that looked suspiciously like the one Willy Wonka wore in the movie. “You mean a Golden Ticket?”

“No,” he answered cheerfully, sampling a flower that appeared to be made of lime green nougat, “a Golden Pass is even better! It’s a super-duper big honor!”

Looking around, Mina tried to find an exit. Please god, she thought, don’t let the Oompa-Loompa ripoffs come out singing and dancing!

Because it was an Avenger’s Holiday From Hel, it was worse.

“Are those…unicorns?” gasped Sun Lee, the sweetest girl in HR, who was always making cookies and bringing them to work.

Everyone turned together and sure enough, a herd of alarmingly cheerful candy-colored unicorns came trotting over to them, making some sort of unicorn-type greeting. Not neighing, exactly. More like a mean-spirited giggle, Mina thought dourly.

“Here are my babies!” Horatio held his arms out, greeting one unicorn after another with a kiss on the lips. 

Mina heard a faint “Ewwww…” behind her, it might have come from Maurice in Promotions and Marketing, who was edging away from a unicorn insisting on nuzzling into his neck with the same enthusiasm of a date on Prom Night. 

“Uh, they’re really… I didn’t know unicorns actually existed, though based on this past year you’d think I’d be more open-minded,” Mina said, edging away from the cotton-candy pink horn of the equine interloper trying to snuggle up under her arm.

Horatio beamed at her, oozing charm and a weird kind of faux innocence as he nudged another unicorn - this one a swirl of lavender and baby blue - at Mina, bookending her with mystical creatures. “Come, darlings, I’ll take you on a tour of Horatio LaDreamy’s candy factory!”

Mina could see Darcie gearing up to give him the Stern Talking To, and caught her eye, shaking her head. She’d been gripping her emerald pendant like it was Loki’s perfect cock since they’d popped in to this candy-caned striped hellscape. He’d find them and save the day, like always. She just needed to get them all to play along until he showed up. 

And when he did? She was going to suck his dick like she was mad at it.

***

“Here we are,” Loki raged, “in the - as Tony has repeatedly and tiresomely claimed - the most secure building on the planet, and yet once again, my Mina has been abducted. Again!” He was running his hands through his perfect ebony hair, and it unreasonably made it even more full and flowing over his expensively suited shoulders.

“Thanks, Severus Snape, but remember that my fiancée and another twenty Stark employees also got snatched?” Tony was furious and embarrassed, which served to make him even more annoying. He was attempting to drum some discordant rhythm on the granite bar top with spoons, and it was so unbearable that the even-tempered Steve was the one to reach over and snatch the silverware from his jangly hands.

“Everyone calm down!” Steve was at his most stern and Captain-ish and Loki watched cynically as the rest of the - as Mina called them - the Spandex Squad immediately obeyed. His handsome, stern gaze turned to Tony. “Where did you meet Horatio? How is it that no one knows the location of his factory? Everyone needs employees. Can we track him through the IRS? How did he get the kind of tech that could move that many people at once? Loki, is this magic?”

Loki was pacing around the last location of the lunatic candymaker as he disappeared from Stark Tower with his Mina. “I do not recognize the energy signature, but it feels more as seidr than technology. But all seidr… it leaves a trace. I cannot find one here.” 

Thor was absently swinging Mjolnir, nearly braining one of the waitstaff trying to clear up the candy carnage. He was desperate to smite someone- anyone at this point. Loki glared at his brother after another close pass from the hammer. “Brother, do contact Heimdal and ask for his assistance.” 

“I shall do this immediately!” Thor roared happily, striding masterfully to the elevators.

“A good idea,” approved Natasha.

Loki sneered elegantly. “I contacted Heimdal the moment they all disappeared. He knows nothing. But it will keep my idiot brother occupied while we work.”

Rubbing her forehead, she allowed herself to look vulnerable, just for a moment. “Then how are we going to find them in time?” Looking at him with troubled blue eyes, she said, “I feel like time is ticking down to something. Do you feel it?”

Looking out the window as the sun headed to the horizon, the afternoon light sending them all into sharp focus, Loki fought down an unfamiliar sense of panic. “If one looks to most of the pagan legends, sunsets are often associated with human sacrifice.”

“You don’t-” the blood drained from Natasha’s pale complexion, leaving her sheet-white. She thought of Bruce, his gentle smile and his kind way with those smaller and weaker than himself. “We have to get them out of there.”

“I assure you, my ocharovatel'nyy ubiytsa,” he said grimly, “I am quite in agreement.”

***

Every holiday, Mina thought as the unicorn prodded her in the back with his horn, every goddamned holiday. Would it really be too much to ask to get Halloween off from the Avenger’s holiday fuckups? My favorite holiday? Her self-pitying thoughts were interrupted as Horatio waved grandly and the massive pink and lavender doors before them began to slowly open.

“You may ask,” he puffed, “how my candy is so sweet? So perfectly formed and flavored? How it can be so addicting?” He beamed at the sullen group behind him. “Meet my secret weapon!”

Mina gulped and she heard a shrill scream from Carla from Banqueting and Events as she passed out. It was another unicorn. A gigantic-ass, monstrous unicorn whose horned head nearly brushed the top of a room the size of an airport hangar. She was violent splashes of aqua, purple, and fuchsia. But her eyes were the blazing red of hell and when she opened her big, horsey mouth, she roared, a thunderous strike that hit the group like a fist, making everyone cringe and cover their ears. There was steam rising from the floor, which was liberally splashed with red and dotted with… bits of something horrible. And popping rapidly out from under her striped tail, were- Mina squinted. “Oh, my god,” she groaned, “is that unicorn poop?”

“An A+ for the pretty lady in the front row!” Horatio said happily, “Yes, this is my sweet angel and the producer of the entire Unicorn Poop line! Glow in the Dark Unicorn Poop, Candy Corn Unicorn Poop, Peppermint Striped Unicorn Poop, and Fudgy Center Unicorn Poop, though that last one isn’t selling the way I thought it would.” His mildly puzzled expression cleared as another giant pile of candy flew from Big Mama Unicorn to be separated and packaged by some listless robots in the bright candy wrappers. “Anyway!” he continued, “So my beloved is such a good girl, producing pile after pile of delicious treats, day after day, 24/7. But a girl’s gotta eat, right?”

“What…” Jane’s expression told Mina she’d already put two and two together, “what do you feed her?”

Horatio’s eyes glowed, “Why, only the sweetest and kindest folks ever! After spending the week at Stark Tower and getting to know everyone, I knew I was picking the sweetest, nicest people there! And it’s perfect timing,” his giggle was alarmingly high-pitched, “because my girl is hungry.”

Big Mama Unicorn let out a terrifying bellow, and all the smaller unicorn guards nickered in agreement as the humans huddled closer together.

Loki was still pacing the spot where that candy-coated monstrosity had disappeared, taking his Mina and so many others with him. He had some hopes that as one of the captives, Bruce, at least, might still have the capacity to shift into his larger, angrier form. But he could feel the energy behind the seidr the top-hatted lunatic had used to steal Mina and the others. It was demonic. Straightening his tie, he turned to the others. “I shall return.”

“Wha- hey!” Tony turned to the others. “He shall return? What the hell did Mr. Wizard just say? Where is he going?”

Such was the haughtier and gravitas of Loki, Prince of Asgard and Rightful King of Jotunheim that not a demon dared approach him, the hounds of Hel whined nervously and hid under the furniture as he passed, still sleek and perfect in his ebony suit.

“Oh, it’s you.” The woman, clad in an equally dark suit and a sullen expression was lounging on an ostentatious throne, made of the bones of thousands of different creatures.

“Is that any way to greet your dear, dear father?” Loki plucked a bit of something off his impeccable sleeve, flicking the offending bit away in a flash. 

If her black eyes had rolled any further back, they’d be wedged against her brain stem. “Let’s dispense with the pleasantries, Loki. What do you want?”

“A bit of conversation, darling.” Hitching his trousers, Loki sat gracefully on a chair made of human bones and sinew. “We’ve a bit of an issue at the Avenger’s Tower with abductions.”

She shrugged, idly poking at one of the cringing shades with the toe of her sharpened steel boot. “And this concerns me how?”

“Hela.”

The one word was spoken in a tone so low that the granite foundations of the Queen of Hel’s throne shifted slightly.

Leaning forward, Loki’s eyes flashed a searing green-gold. “Do not feign innocence with me. That vile candymaker could not have managed this level of power as a mere mortal. What was your bargain?”

Hela sniffed, tossing her long black hair over one shoulder in a flounce clearly inherited from her sire. “Oh. That irritating little man was constantly bleating about his unicorns and how they got… what was the word? Oh, ‘hangry,’ and he needed the power to move large groups of people to the factory to feed them, and-”

“What did you say?” Loki shot out of his chair, face even paler, “Feed mortals to... his unicorns?” 

Hela shrugged, “His tiresome obsession with those silly creatures… though the monstrous procreator is quite ferocious. She would be an excellent addition to my Helhounds.” She chuckled heartlessly. “Perhaps I shall take her, along with his pathetic soul when it is due.”

In an instant, her furious sire was leaning over her, so close that her throne tipped back. “If a single hair is disturbed upon my Mina’s head, I shall tie you to the hack of one of your beloved Helhounds, and create a seidr that will force him to run through your pits of flaming tar and leave you upside down beneath the surface of one of them. For your continued good health, I do hope no harm comes to those abducted from the Tower.”

For once, his daughter didn’t have a scathing retort.

***

It was hard to come up with a plan, what with all the screaming, Mina thought, dazed and jostling to keep her co-workers away from that giant fucking unicorn from Hel. I mean, it really does look like Loki’s daughter spawned it, she thought a little spitefully. 

She stilled for a moment, ignoring the prodding from the unicorn’s pointy horn wedging just under her right shoulder and shoving hard enough to leave a crater in her back. “That’s it!” Mina gasped. Elbowing past her pink and blue guard, she shouted, “Hey, Horatio! You’re wrong! You think we’re the sweetest people in the building?” 

The candymaker was busy trying to shove Mario from Accounting closer to the gaping maw of Mama Unicorn. Horatio looked over his polka-dotted shoulder red-faced and petulant. “You just hold right there, little miss! It’ll be your turn in a minute!” 

“I’m not sweet!” Mina tried to pitch her voice higher than Mario’s screaming, but it was close. “I have a mouth like a sailor, you asshole! I really didn’t like Aama here-” she pulled over her startled co-worker in the Developmental Science Division, “because she’d always steal the good lab coats and I’d end up with one of the acid-stained ones. I ‘forgot’ to invite her to one of the employee lunches-”

“Hey! Really?” Aama said, looking deeply wounded.

“Sorry, Aama,” Mina said, patting her back absently. “Anyway, I am not sweet! Also, if you saw the kinky stuff Loki and I get into? I’m gonna give that lavender pony from Hel heartburn!”

“I knew you two were into some weird shit!” gloated Darcy.

“Oh, please!” Mina retorted, “You wrote the book- hell, you wrote an entire Wikipedia on kink!”

Her eyes widened pleadingly, and Darcy caught on. “Oh, yes I did! One guy, two guys… once there was a wheel of cheese in the room and a duck, and…”

Even Mario had stopped screaming to hear this.

“Also,” Darcy continued defiantly, “I - I shoplifted some peanut butter and cigarettes from the bodega down the street because I forgot my purse…” She’d come back the next day with a batch of cookies, an apology and the money, of course. Also, the son’s owner really liked her and had given her the peanut butter and the pack of extra-long menthols, but that didn’t help the story. “I’ve drugged Jane’s sandwich before! More than once!”

“You did?” Jane gasped, “You’re- why? Why did you do that?”

Her best friend sputtered a bit, she’d done it to force Jane to get some sleep after working in the lab for three days straight. “Uh… because I’m jealous of you and I’m… uh… stealing all your research! Yeah!”

Jane was bug-eyed with shock for a moment before she recognized Darcy’s wildly twitching eye was a wink and not a muscle tic brought on by sheer terror. “I don’t care, Darcy! Because… because… I’ve been selling it to HYDRA! So there! And I cheated on my taxes! Three times!”

“I stole my roommate's boyfriend!” chimed in Sun Lee, though they’d been broken up for over a year and her roommate didn’t even care, but… she had to top the HYDRA whopper and distract the crazy candymaker while everyone caught on. “And I pulled the last shopping cart in the queue away from an old man who was trying to put his oxygen tank in it!”

Even Mama Unicorn had stopped that endless bellowing, watching with a wrinkled muzzle as the weird confessions got wilder and more offensive as each of the desperate prisoners started chiming in.

“I stole my mother’s wedding ring!”

“I cheated my way through college!”

“My family disowned me after I burned my grandparent’s house down!”

“I- I- I ATE A BABY!”

They all turned - even Horatio and Mama Unicorn - to stare at Kevin from Ground Security, who was not a super inventive guy. “Too much?” he asked humbly, wringing his hands. “But anyway,” he continued, “I’m gonna give that lavender bitch food poisoning, so HAVE AT IT YOU CANNIBALISTIC FREAK!”

“There’s no reason to be rude,” Horatio said repressively, “and you’re upsetting my sweet mama here, her nerves are delicate!”

“We’re going to make you puke cotton candy for a week, you one-horned psycho!” Mina shouted above the others, “You are gonna suffer, lady! And- and- and-” She smiled evilly, “Mr. LaDreamy, your candy tastes like ass. And now we know why. Your Unicorn Poop really is complete and utter shit.”

“Shit! Your candy is shit!”

“Everyone’s laughing at you and your weird turquoise friend!”

“Your candy sucks!”

“Halloween’s going to be canceled if this crap gets out because Manhattan will be covered in kid vomit!”

“That’s ENOUGH!” screamed Horatio, his purple hair sticking out in tufts. “You’re trying to distract me from our sacred purpose here, putting a smile on EVERY CHILD’S FACE AND I WILL NOT HAVE YOU-” He broke off, face almost as purple as his hair and wheezing.

And Pepper delivered the killing blow. “Mr. LaDreamy, I intend to file suit with the FDA regarding your use of hazardous materials and a deeply, deeply unsanitary workspace. I hope your mama… thing there has other talents because she will be paying for your fines into the next century. I am very vindictive,” she added with a dark smile, “and I love making little men like you twist on the hook like a gutted trout.”

Everyone stirred uneasily. This was essentially accurate.

There was an ominous, low rumbling and it seemed like the blood-soaked factory walls were closing in on them. Horatio chuckled, a mean little gurgle that sounded like a truly beastly child’s. “Hush, now. Since you’re not nice, sweet people at all, since you lied to me- Well, there’s only one thing to do.”

Mina stumbled slightly, was that rumbling getting louder? It felt like the pink and red striped factory floor was shifting under her feet.

“I’d planned on waiting until the new year to debut my latest line of sweets....” He smoothed down his ratted fringe of hair and put his top hat back on. “But it’s time, thanks to you-” he said spitefully at Mina, “to introduce my new brand, Devil’s Food Delights.”

There was a bellow. A howl. The combined sound of a million souls suffering and the sound rose and shook the rafters as something burst through the floor.

“Aw, goddamnit,” sighed Mina.

***

“Can’t this thing go any faster?” groaned Bucky, who was hovering over Loki’s shoulder in a truly provoking way, nudging him absently with his vibranium arm and making him yearn to send his own godly elbow into the Soldier’s face. The pleasant thought distracted Loki for a moment and the seidr shimmered ominously. 

“If you don’t take yourself to the back of the jet and stay there,” he snarled, “the seidr will collapse and we must begin again.” He studied the aggressively pink cotton candy tone of his spell. “Due north.” 

***

The Stark employees clutched at each other, trying to keep from toppling into the pit now spreading on the factory floor, an ominous red glow glaring out from the hole. The screaming started up again as a massive spider placed all eight of its horrible, clawed appendages on to the crumbled concrete and hefted its pulsating, plump black carapace out of the pit. All eight of its beady crimson eyes were focused on Mina, who found herself shoved in front of Dante from Armaments and Darcy, who’d started hurling packages of Unicorn Poop at the monstrous thing. This was, unfortunately, the thing that turned its attention to their little huddle and it began scampering over the ruined ground toward them.

Their rescue came - by cynical fate - from Mama Unicorn, who was not happy about her potential dinner being taken away. With another rafter-rattling roar, she hauled her huge pink and blue bulk from her corner, stomping toward Horatio’s latest creation, which reared back with a shrill, chittering sound. From the back of the spider came shooting smeared charcoal and fuchsia eggs. “They’re wrapped in licorice-flavored cotton candy!” Horatio screamed over the angry whining from the smaller unicorns. “With a surprise inside!” he cackled as one of the bundles writhed and broke open, a teal-colored arachnid pulling free from its spun sugar cocoon. 

A blast shook the factory as one of the outside walls exploded, various Avengers pouring through the dust to the rescue. Spinning two wickedly sharp blades, Loki turned in a circle, looking for Mina. He found her - of course - standing in front of a group of cowering office personnel and looking rather nauseated.

“Darling!” Loki was on her in an instant, cradling her face. “You’re not hurt? Whose blood is this?”

“Uh… I’m not sure, but I don’t think it’s mine.” It’s not that Mina was not extremely happy to see her princely suitor, but she could not take her eyes off the supernatural train wreck happening right in front of her. 

Steve was turning right, then left, trying to figure out who to throw his shield at. Wanda was rearing back, trying to pull away her scarlet pulse emanating from her hands, while repeating “Ew! Ew! Ew ew ew ew ewewewewe!” Bucky had Darcy slung over one broad shoulder and was pointing an extremely large gun at random angry unicorns.

Tony’s mask came up on his suit and his angry brown eyes scanned the melee. “Who should I shoot? I mean, what the hell…”

Really, it was a toss-up. Mama Unicorn and Big Ugly Scary Spider Thing were tearing at each other- oozing lime-green blood and chunks of both being tossed into the air during the battle. Horatio was screaming at them, “Stop it! You will get along, do you HEAR ME?” But it was clear those two were having none of that nonsense. 

Ducking a flying bit of Big Ugly Scary Spider Thing, Loki turned to find Mina gone. She was writhing like an infuriated eel, trying to escape the surprisingly strong grip of Horatio J. LaDreamy, infamous candymaker and a man currently Losing His Shit.

“This could have been so simple!” he howled, “Your sacrifice would have meant the happiness of children all over the world! But no…” Horatio hissed the word, gripping Mina’s neck tightly and putting something to her throat, something scary enough that she stiffened. His maddened orange eyes met Loki’s. “But there’s always a backup plan!” He was chuckling, but it sounded more like gargling with a mouthful of tar. “You know the significance of the setting sun, don’t you, you insufferable Asgardian?”

Mina corrected from habit, “Oh, Loki is actually both Jotunn and Asgardian.”

“Shut UP!” Horatio screamed into her ear, “I will have my candy empire and if I can’t feed you to Mama Unicorn I will still close the deal with my dark mistress with a sacrifice in her honor. Ah, ah!” He pushed the thing - which turned out to be the tip of the currently disemboweled Mama Unicorn’s horn harder into Mina’s neck. “You’ll stand back, Mr. Friggasson!”

Loki’s hands gripped his knife handles, knuckles white with fury. If that candy-striped lunatic stabbed Mina with that cursed unicorn horn it was over. He knew there was no seidr that could reverse the effects of such a weapon. But with a casual flick of his fingers to the right, he very carefully began circling the two. “You don’t need Mina. Not when you have a god to offer himself in exchange. Come, now. Take the horn away from her neck. I shall drop my knives and surrender to you.”

Oh, Horatio liked that idea, he could tell from the creature’s excitable little wiggle. Mina was silently shaking her head, but Loki’s gaze darted right and back again. She tilted her head, nodding. And to the backdrop of the dying screams of Mama Unicorn and Big Ugly Scary Spider Thing, the candymaker began to rage about the unfairness of life. The excellent quality of his candy. His visionary status. And how cruel it was that Loki’s hair was more luxuriant and silky than his. But the time he’d started on how boring Loki’s ebony suit was next to his magnificently colored ensemble, the irritable god had thrust forward with three fingers and a crisp command: “forsvinn!”

Mina ducked. Horatio stumbled backward and fell on his ass in a rapidly spreading pool of taffy in violent shades of red and yellow. The tipped cauldron rolled back and forth in the corner. “Do not touch it!” commanded Loki as the other Avengers stepped closer, “You will never get free.” Indeed, the candymaker was on his back, kicking and squalling like an overturned beetle as the taffy spread around him in a viscous flood. 

Loki straightened his tie and put an arm around Mina as she handed him the unicorn horn. “So the guys have rounded up all our co-workers and they’re ready to get out of this candy-coated hellhole. But what do we do about the baby spiders and the leftover unicorns and him?” She nodded at Horatio, who looked he might actually be dissolving into his own creation of corn syrup and evil.

Pressing a tender kiss to her temple, Loki smiled unpleasantly. “It shall all… be taken care of. Come along, darling. I shall bathe away that disgusting scent of unicorns and perspiration from you.”

The lit-up monolith of Stark Tower had just appeared in the quinjet’s windshield when Mina stiffened. “Oh, crap! What about all of the kids coming tonight to trick or treat? We can’t give them the unicorn shit.” 

Natasha was flying the aircraft, but she looked behind her with a raised brow. “Do you mean the Unicorn Poop candy?”

“No,” said Loki and Mina together, and she heaved a bit. “It’s actual shit, Natasha. Unicorn shit. Big Mama Unicorn was pooping it out. Piles and piles of-” Putting her hand over her mouth, Mina turned away.

***

“Here at Stark Industries,” Pepper said smoothly, to the reporters clustered around the first group of costumed toddlers, “we’ve been concerned about good nutrition and the amount of sugar the average child consumes every year. So we decided to set a new precedent this Halloween by giving out toys instead.”

Steve and Bucky were tearing open boxes of Avenger’s action figures, stuffies, promotional t-shirts, and more that had been hastily pulled from the merchandise warehouse. Darcy and Jane were happily handing them out to the stream of children. 

“Thank you so much,” recited a five-year-old fairy princess, she looked down at the Iron Man figure she’d been handed. “Could I have a Loki doll instead?”

Tony yanked the doll away from her. “Here’s a towel, kid. Keep moving.”

***

“Where are we?” Mina gasped as Loki pulled off her blindfold. They were on a platform in a massive tree in the middle of a field, dotted with the last of the season’s pumpkins and filled with fireflies, lighting the branches and crisp red and orange leaves with a surreal glow. The platform held a huge mattress with many plump pillows and silky throws and blankets. A low table ran alongside the bed, piled high with bottles of wine and tempting platters of meats and cheeses, fruit, fresh-baked rolls. “And no sugar,” she sighed gratefully. She felt her skin tingle as he ran his fingers down her side and gasped as she looked at the delicate lace and silk concoction he’d “poofed” on to her. It was long, with a high slit in the skirt and a shamelessly low neckline.

“Spin for me, darling.” Loki made a twirling motion with one long finger and enjoyed the sight of his Mina happily spinning in her new dress. It flared out around her ankles and the twinkling light of the fireflies shone through the sheer fabric over the taut line of her thigh, the softness of her luscious bottom. Oh, how he loved her pert behind.

When she spun around again, Mina found Loki reclining elegantly on the bed, sipping a glass of wine and holding one out for her. “Come, darling. The dance is about to begin.”

“What dance?” she asked, gathering up her long skirt to make the awkward crawl across the slippery expanse of the cushions to relax against his long, cool body. Loki nodded to the edges of the field and Mina gasped.

Women, clad in black, walked from the cover of the surrounding forest to meet in the center around the tree. A bonfire surged up, lighting their serene faces as they began their song, moving around each other in a complex web. 

“Um, are we allowed to be here?” Mina whispered, terribly excited but a little nervous. She knew what this was- Samhain. Which meant they were in Ireland, which meant this was one of the most secretive and powerful of the ancient pagan clans. The women dancing ignored them and their luxurious platform, but it was clear she and Loki had been given a nearly unheard-of opportunity.

“Shhhh…” he murmured, and she settled back. 

Following the complex braid of movement was so fascinating that it took Mina a bit to realize that there were new dancers in the circle- shadowy forms that danced in and out of the circle made by their living sisters. “Oh... “ she gasped. The living and the dead twined back and forth as their song grew louder, almost a chant and suddenly the fire was burning hotter or something because she felt like every part of her was wildly overheated. She needed something to cool her, and- “Thank you Loki,” Mina moaned happily as he pulled her to her knees, resting that bottom of hers that he’d praised so often on her heels. Kneeling behind her, he pressed his broad chest and a very promising, prominent bulge against the small of her back. The chill radiating from him just made her skin prickle more desperately. She needed him! Why won’t he help her? 

“Patience,” Loki soothed, “watch the ceremony, sweet one.”

Mina blinked hard. The swirl of color and sound vibrated through her skin and settled into the base of her spine, spreading through her and making her gasp, pushing back against his hard, cool chest. Dimly, she felt his cool fingers spread her thighs, circling lightly around her wet furrow, the rough pads of his fingertips sliding back and forth, back and forth in a lazy way that made her half-insane as he circled her entrance, dipped lightly inside and moved back to lightly bat her clitoris. Finally, finally, he lifted her, the tip of his cock slick and wet from her.

“Put your arms behind my neck,” he urged, giving her shoulder a quick, sharp bite, enough to startle her into obeying him. The position made her arch her back, breasts thrust out as she strained to watch the movement of the dancing circle. Still, the women below seemed to ignore them as they continued their delicate dance between this world and the next. The heavy weight of Loki’s cock sliding into her made her clench down, enjoying his groan as it slowed his movements through her. It burned and stung a bit, just as it always did when Loki fucked her, but Mina relished it, craved it as part of the feeling of this god deeply embedded inside her. But the feel of cool lips suckling her clitoris made her let out a startled screech.

“Easy, darling,” purred Loki, lounging gracefully before her, examining himself buried inside her with interest. “I so rarely get to enjoy this lovely view as I take you. So sweet.” His diabolical tongue tickled her again, then lightly nipped one of her swollen lips. “Such a perfect, dark treat. And displayed so perfectly.” From behind her, Loki’s hands began toying with her breasts, pinching her nipples and pulling gently as the Loki below returned to his efforts, suckling her wet center, tongue stroking and fluttering along his cock sliding in and out of her channel. 

The sheer outrageousness of it - the intensity of two Lokis toying with her was too much and Mina’s head flew back, hitting his shoulder as she came. 

Trying to focus as the Loki below doubled down with chilly lips and teeth while seizing her bottom and moving her faster on his clone’s cock, she watched the night sky split, silver light streaming through and coalescing into shapes and shades of the Otherworldly.

“I have missed the play of nug-a-nug…” whispered one.

“Fadoodling they are, and so nicely…” sighed another.

“That’s putting the devil into hell!” shouted one of the more substantial spirits, and they all laughed in agreement, drifting lightly around the three joined together so closely that even the spectres could not see where one began or the other ended. But all the circling souls shuddered and sighed as the Lokis and Mina came together, glowing brighter and holding form for one perfect moment before fading into whisps again.

When Mina came back to some general form of awareness, she was wrapped in a velvety soft blanket, held in Loki’s arms as the other Loki waved down to the witches, still casually nude.

“Thank you for feeding our sisters!” called up the High Priestess. “To have them back with us again… our circle is complete. Farewell then.” She gave a sly wink to Mina. “And perhaps we’ll be seeing you again next year.”

Loki chuckled behind her, squeezing her gently. “There are so many haunts to explore,” he whispered in her ear, “enough for a thousand All Hallow’s Eves.”

Kissing his chiseled jaw, she said with deep satisfaction, “And no more creepy man-eating unicorns.”

***

Horatio J. LaDreamy sat in the smoking ruins of his factory, Big Ugly Scary Spider Thing and Big Mama Unicorn had torn each other to pieces and the resulting scuttle of remaining spider offspring being devoured by the few surviving unicorns. The acrid scent of burnt sugar stung his nose along with the strawberries and cream scent of unicorn blood covering his candy-striped suit. 

“How could this happen?” Horatio said peevishly.

“Because, you vile little man, you deserved it.” The smooth, cultured tone made him freeze in horror, and measured footsteps circled from behind him. Hela was strolling through the wreckage, hands on leather-clad hips. “How did you manage such a catastrophic failure in such a short time?” she mused, kicking at a severed unicorn hoof. “I did expect you back in my realm sooner than later, but even for you, this is simply pitiful.” Her elegant nose wrinkled a bit as she eyed his quivering form.

“B- b- but my beautiful unicorns!” Horatio wailed, “And my Devil’s Food darling and Mama Unicorn eating each other instead of those silly people! Hela, oh Dark Mistress, please-”

“None of that, mortal. Come along now.”

Horatio J. LaDreamy was a creature designed to strike terror into the hearts of the unwary, and a monstrous wave of empathy for the innocents he’d victimized slammed into him like a tsunami as Hela’s elegant hand rose, then clenched into a fist, tearing his soul from his body - leaving a withered, desiccated husk that collapsed into a pile of pink and purple dust.

***

Darcy lay on her back, panting and staring at the ceiling. “Holy shit, Bucky,” she wheezed, “if I knew getting kidnapped would turn you on like that I’d have done it sooner! I think I had an out-of-body experience on that fifth orgasm…”

She turned her head to look at him, he had his metal hand resting on his chest, still heaving from exertion.

“You know you’re some kind of sex demon with that tongue of yours,” she teased.

Bucky gave her a smile. Just a little one, a slight curve of those full lips that for him was the equivalent of tearing off his shirt and strutting around the tower singing “I’m The Man.” Then his head lifted abruptly, looking sharply in one direction, then the other.

“What’s that?”

“What’s what?” hedged Darcy, trying to yank her undies up her thighs.

His blue eyes narrowed. “I heard something. Like a neighing sound- “ He was across the room before she could blink, ripping the closet door off its hinges. 

“YOU BROUGHT ONE OF THOSE ASSHOLES BACK HERE?”

A little mauve and aqua-speckled unicorn cowered behind a stack of winter sweaters, whinnying in fear as Bucky towered over it.

“Stop it, you’re scaring him!” Putting her arms around the petite creature’s neck, Darcy looked up at him, her big, big, brown eyes tearing up a little.

He looked between the unicorn and his girlfriend. “Darce- honey are you insane? Are you remembering what these little bastards were going to do to you? Why would you do this!”

Sniffling prettily, she hugged the unicorn tighter. “Maurice didn’t do it! It was the big ones herding us to Mama Unicorn, he was-”

“You NAMED it?” he paced back and forth, pulling at his hair and absently wishing he hadn’t cut it so short. “We can’t keep a- wait, what is this? A mystical or mythical, or-”

“Arcane?” she offered helpfully.

“Enchanted?” He paced some more, watching the tiny creature burrow into Darcy’s generous bosom. Sighing, he sat down on the bed. “You can keep it for tonight. Tomorrow, you have to take it-”

“It’s not an it, it’s a Maurice!”

“You’re taking Maurice to Banner for a full examination.”

Throwing herself onto him, Darcy chirped, “Okay. Thank you, baby! You’re the best…” She proceeded to show Bucky just how much she appreciated him, and their moans were so loud that even his keen Soldier’s hearing didn’t catch the vicious little chuckle from the closet.

[seat-safety-switch]

There is a sort of obsession among a certain kind of car owner with original parts. They want to keep the original engine, no matter how bad things get. They insist upon replacing every busted-ass interior clip, every bit of undertray, the original hood insulation, and even that annoying little spring that flew off into a workshop sometime in the 1970s.

For these folks, "numbers matching" engines are an essential requirement. Any car that's had a new engine thrown into it at the neighbourhood Goodwrench back in the 80s is an abominable, compromised car. They would never do what I do to rebuild a car. My technique is abhorrent to them. What I do is this: I visit the junkyard, find the cheapest motor I think will fit, and then bodge chunks of scrap stolen from the railroad together until it actually fits. Some days, you're lucky if I get an engine of the same make.

All this is to explain why occasionally I have a Soviet tractor engine, or an old mail-truck four-banger, or a small wad of starter motors in an elaborate belt-driven configuration, in the front end of my car. Whatever makes motive power and gets to work: I'm not too picky about "original," because original is what blew up and left the previous owner stranded. I don't owe it anything for being the first one to fuck up.

Now, sure, this does compromise the resale value of my cars a bit. Any collector is going to take a look at a 1978 Plymouth Volare with the approximate mileage of twelve moon missions on it, and decide that the 1976 Slant Six stuck into the engine bay is where all the money leaked out of it. Not at all the old "thin ice" sign that went missing from a nearby lake and is pop-riveted to the floorboard. Not the eight-track player zip-tied into the place where the passenger seat once sat. And certainly, most definitely not, the diesel locomotive turbocharger occupying most of the engine bay.

[kristannafever]

Big Sky Ranch - 28

Kristanna Modern AU Rated: Explicit WC: 3562

Chapter Index

*A/N at end of chaopter

---------------------------------

A truck rumbled up the gravel drive and stopped near the three houses where Kristoff, Anna, Sven and Buck were waiting on the camp chairs.  They got up and approached the driver. 

He rolled down the window.  “Where do you want it?”

“Here’s fine,” Buck said. 

The driver nodded and hopped from the cab to open the back of the truck.  All three men hopped up into it and looked down at the thing that they had pooled their money together to purchase.  Kristoff and Sven tried hefting it up from either side and were able to handle the weight of it between the two of them.  Buck hopped down and they dragged it out and set it on the grass just off the gravel drive. 

Sven gave the man a tip and he drove away.

Anna walked over and looked down at it.  “It’s perfect.  How you guys gonna get it up there?”

“Tractor we figure,” Kristoff said, turning to her.  “Me and Sven can just muscle the thing up there.”  Sven and Buck nodded and they set out on their task.

Anna sauntered up the drive behind the tractor to watch the men work.  At the main gate they stopped and removed the new sign from the bucket of the tractor and set it aside.  Kristoff and Sven then hopped into it and Buck raised them up slowly until they could reach up to where the current wrought iron sign hung from he gantry.  They lifted it off the hooks and were slowly lowered back down.  Next, they grabbed the new sign and once again, rose up slowly and the men muscled it up and placed it on the hooks. 

Anna looked at it and smiled.  Art was due any minute for their surprise.  Buck parked the tractor off into the grass and the tree men joined Anna just outside the edge of the property and looked up.

“As it should be,” Buck muttered.  Everyone nodded.

They milled about for a few more minutes, talking among themselves, when the dually finally appeared in the distance, trails of dust in its wake.  Art came to a stop in front of the group of people standing in the middle of the road and hopped out of the cab with a face etched in concern.

“Is everything okay, Anna?  Something didn’t happen, did it?”

The four of them smiled back at their boss.  It had been Anna’s idea, so the men standing with her stepped back. 

“Art, your legacy will not die with you.  It will live on in our hearts and in this place.  We will teach our children its importance and we will make sure that your legacy is passed on.  We can promise you that your family name will forever remain what made this ranch what it is.”  She smiled at him and lifted her arm to direct his attention to the new sign.  It read;

Big Sky – WEADICK – Ranch

His mouth opened slightly upon reading it, and his eyes raked over the wording several times before he looked back at Anna.  There were tears in the old mans gaze.

He nodded, looking down at the gravel.  “Thank you.  Thank all of you.  This… this means more than I can say at the moment.”

“It’s alright, Art,” Buck said, turning to go back to the tractor.  “We know.”

Anna, Kristoff and Sven turned away as well, leaving their boss for the moment that he clearly needed.  For nearly ten minutes he stood leaned up against the hood of his truck taking in the sign.  When he was done, he hopped back into his truck and drove away.

~   ~   ~   ~   ~

Time swiftly passed for the people on the ranch. 

Kristoff’s early November birthday came and went.  Anna had planned a special evening with just the two of them, like he had done for her.  Upon his request, she made Beef Wellington again as he had praised how well she made them.  They ate the meal by candlelight, made love, and then he opened his presents.  Anna, blushing, watched on as he opened a new belt for his precious buckle and a gift certificate for a brand-new pair of custom-made boots from the Alberta Boot Company.   Kristoff was in awe, thinking he’d never be able to afford a pair of those boots.  Anna was simply overjoyed that she was able to give him something special.   In the end they wound up tangled in the sheets again before falling asleep.

The first significant snowfall managed to hold off until the first week of December.   By then all the cattle were in the big pasture by where the main house was being rebuilt.  The employees of the ranch found they had more time on their hands.   Gone were the days of working hours past nightfall and struggling to keep up with the workload of the ranch.

The people who lived their appreciated the not-so-subtle difference.  While still getting tired after a day of work, they were no longer exhausted.  The interesting effect was that they were all more productive in getting more rest and more sleep, further adding to having more leisure time. 

Levi and Cassidy were sharing the small house just fine with Sven and Dixie, and suppers had to be eaten inside again due to the cold.  With ten people and no tables big enough to hold all of them, they took turns between sitting on the couches or at the table.  Except for Kristoff and Anna.  They were always at the table because Anna was the one making them all dinner every night since she was out of a job for the time being.

Art stopped by often but reaffirmed he wanted to stay in hotels until the main house was done and the cabin was empty.  He even talked about taking a holiday, something he had never done in his life.   With his retirement on the horizon, he decided he wanted to travel and he had the means to freely do so.   He had saved a portion of the ranch profits to have the house rebuilt as he had promised to pay for the destruction of his daughter so as not to fall on Kristoff and Anna’s shoulders, and had left in a generous amount to counter operating costs after the business was transferred in the new year  This left Art, rightfully so, with the money made with the lifetimes of the hard work of his family, living very comfortably until his last days.  When the ranch was fully in Kristoff, Sven and Buck’s names, those profits would then be theirs to deal with.

Dixie was to and from her rodeo gigs after she decided to weed out the smaller ones so that she could come back and be with Sven in between the big ones.  Sven even went to one to cheer her on since there were now enough hands to tend to all the work and they could spare him a couple of extra days.  It was something he vowed to his wife that he would be doing more of in however many more years she wanted to do it.  In all likelihood though, Dixie was leaning towards one more year.  She had confided in Anna a while back that she really wanted to start her family, but seeing as how the house needed to be built and paid for, she’d continue barrel racing for the time being.  Dixie had also admitted to Anna that she adored that Sven was cool with her paying for all the big things and didn’t have a complex about it.  He treated her like a queen and paid for every date they’d ever gone on, she was happy to be able to build them a house with her earnings.

Anna had taken to meeting Art in town at the diner a couple of times a week to go over how she was to run the books for the ranch.  In taking her advice to digitally save the family project she had made him, Art had also had enough foresight to back up all his business files, meaning they did not have to start over as everything in the house had been destroyed by the fire.  She got to it right away, buying a new, high end desktop computer to replace her old laptop.  Without space for a desk in Kristoff’s cabin, it sat at the end of the kitchen table, and it would soon have a home when their house was finished.   It didn’t take long before she had a firm handle on what her new job was going to be. 

And Kristoff was slowly becoming the person everyone on the ranch considered to be in charge.  Not having Art there, when questions arose, he was the one they went to.  In the start, he’d confer with Sven about it, then eventually he started making decisions on his own.  Sven came to him with plenty of his own questions anyway.  Any time he assigned a job, no one balked, and everyone respected him.  In the past month or so, he had become the leader.  He didn’t even realize it until Anna had brought it up to him the other night. 

“You know, I realized something today,” she had said, watching his back side as he insisted on doing the dishes from the meal Anna had cooked.  “You’re the boss now.”

He looked over his shoulder at her with the side of his nose scrunched up.  “What?”

“You’re the boss now,” Anna said, standing up and walking over to him and wrapping her arms around his back.

He laughed.  “I ain’t the boss.”

“Oh but you are,” she said, sliding her hands all over his muscular chest.  “And you don’t even see it.  Hell, I didn’t even notice it until today.”

He hummed, putting another dish in the rack.  “And what is it that you noticed.”

“When Buck and Sven were talking about how they needed to fix the hydraulic on the tractor but it was going to take a few days to get the parts, so they were going to have to go to town to buy a tarp for the grass bails when they got delivered to keep them out of the weather.  Remember what you said when they ran that by you?”

“Yeah, and I said call the guy that delivers the grass and get it postponed a week, then get to fixin’ the tractor so it’s ready for when the delivery gets here,” he said, reaching for a towel and drying his hands.

“And they asked what if it can’t be postponed.”

Kristoff turned around in her arms and looked down at her with an amused expression.  “I said tell the guy we’ll buy our grass elsewhere if he can’t.”

Anna smiled up at him.  “And why did you tell them that?”

He smirked.  “Because then we’d have to waste money on a big ol’ tarp that’ll probably never get used again.”

“Excatly,” Anna said.  “You’re the boss.”

“Hmmm.  Am I now?”

“Si, tu eres el jefe.”

His smirk widened, eyes glancing at her lips.  “Brushing up on some Spanish are we?”

“Well, I figured I’d be prepared for when we go to your parents to visit.  And I do have a lot of free time on my hands right now.”

He hummed again and slowly bent down to kiss her.

~   ~   ~   ~   ~

Christmas was only three weeks away and Anna was bound and determined to make this one a memorable one for her, Kristoff and their ranch family.  They had again offered Art to move back into his cabin, that they could easily make due in the barn, but he had waived them off again and insisted they enjoy it while they could. 

With that decided, she went into the big town to go crazy at the Walmart since it was to be her first and last Christmas in that cabin.  Her cart was loaded with Christmas decorations, lights, ornaments, a star, a tree holder, and a wreath for the front door.  Kristoff didn’t have a single Christmas item to decorate with and Anna more than compensated for that fact. 

All afternoon she decorated, and when Kristoff came home, he took it all in and smiled brightly and let out an amused whistle.  “When my Baby does Christmas, she does Christmas right.”

Anna walked up to him and they embraced before kissing each other.  “I want this one to be special.”

“It will be for sure,” Kristoff said, looking down at her with hooded eyes.  “I know it’s gonna be the best one of my life so far.”

“Mine too,” she said, slipping out of his arms and taking it all in again.

Suddenly, she was taken by emotion looking at the little cabin with all the Christmas cheer.   She never could have imagined having a Christmas that was this happy.  This cozy and wonderful.  This magical.  It brought tears to her eyes.  She sniffed and turned into him, burying her face in his chest.

His arms wrapped tightly around her.  “I feel it too, Baby,” he said, his voice soft with the almost imperceptible waiver of emotion.  

That made her smile.  She knew Kristoff would understand.   She pulled her head of his warm chest and looked up at him, letting him know she was alright.  A second later his warms lips were pressed gently to hers.

They went slow, taking their time to caress each other as they undressed in front of the little tree.  Eventually they ended up on the couch, naked under a blanket, locked at the lips, making love.  Afterward they lay there together, smiling at the decorated cabin and talking about their future.  They would treasure this Christmas, absolutely, just like they would treasure the ones they were going to have together, eventually with their own little family. 

And Anna had another great idea for Christmas.  Since the main house was gone, the barn was going to come in use for something after all.   Levi and Cassidy were staying at her patterns for Christmas, but everyone else on the ranch was staying there.  She decided to clean up the barn, get a bunch of folding tables and chairs, and host Christmas dinner for their wonderful ranch family.

~   ~   ~   ~   ~

“Anna, this is beautiful,” Dixie exclaimed as her and Sven walked into the barn. 

“Gorgeous,” Sven agreed, pulling her into a hug and placing a kiss on her cheek. 

Anna smiled.  “Thanks guys!  I can’t wait to celebrate with all of you.”

Buck and Tuck let out a low whistle in tandem as they sauntered in.  Everyone else who followed gave impressed noises and wonderful comments.  Levi and Cassidy ended up being there after all since her parents came down with a nasty flu and asked to celebrate their Christmas around New Years instead, which was fine since Anna had gotten extra chairs for them and anyone else who they happen to have join them that evening for dinner.  As it turned out, Art was bringing one of his friends who’d just lost his wife a couple of months prior.  With no children, Art didn’t want him to be alone.

Kristoff could not take his eyes off of his future wife.  She was as thoughtful and generous as she was gorgeous.  She had spared no expense in making this Christmas dinner special for everyone on the ranch.

The folding tables were set into a line with a couple of festive red and green tablecloths adorned with faux candles to add to the ambiance.  At each chair was a full table setting with new dinnerware that Anna had bought for this occasion and for their future house.  There was a little decorated tree in the corner with a gift for everyone underneath.   Paper snowflakes, Christmas decorations and strings of lights were everywhere, making the barn feel a lot less like a barn.  It was the perfect place for them to all celebrate Christmas dinner. 

It struck Kristoff in the heart how wonderful of a gesture this was.  She had done everything, from borrowing Kristoff’s truck to get the tables and chairs, to buying the decorations, making the barn look spectacular, and getting all the food.  And while she never asked for a single person to help, they did it anyway.  Sven told her she would run back to his place to keep an eye on the turkey periodically and get the stuffing out when it was ready, Dixie said he was going to make the mashed potatoes, Levi and Cassidy said they were going to do the salad and the gravy, Buck and Tuck said they would prepare the green beans and plate up the cream corn from the crock pot, Jett said he’d get the butter, rolls and salt and pepper shakers to go on the table, and Coop said he was going to play bartender and keep the drinks flowing, and Anna and Kristoff ended up with nothing else to do with dinner besides enjoy it with their friends and family. 

Art arrived with his friend and they were introduced and greeted warmly with gratitude for letting him attend that was brushed off as a foregone conclusion.  Laughter and merriment were all around them and they joined together at the table when all the dishes were plated and they shared a toast to their good fortune and good health and feasted on the wonderful dinner that Anna had planned. 

Afterward when everyone had seconds and thirds, it was Kristoff to stand up and lead a toast to the person who made their Christmas so wonderful.  Anna had tears in her eyes as he talked and it got to him.  After everyone cheered and thanked her, he sat down and had to wipe a few of his own that formed in his eyes.  After that, it was nothing but smiles and pure happiness.

The music got louder and people started to dance as they mingled and talked.  Anna had made an attempt to put away some leftovers, only to have them all briskly whisked away by everyone attending.  Even Kristoff managed to beat someone to the turkey carcass to put it in the freezer to make stock later.  All in all, there wasn’t really that much food left over.  Another thing that Anna had amazing calculated so well that there was more than enough food for everyone to have their absolute fill. 

All the dishes were done and put away by the time it was six o’clock and Anna announced they were going to play a white elephant game with the gifts under the tree.  Presents ranged from a set of cowboy boot salt and pepper shakers, to a one-hundred-dollar gift card towards a new hat or boots at the western wear and tack place by town.  Everyone had fun opening and stealing each other’s gifts.  Anna, going fist since it was her idea, had asked Kristoff to buy one little gift for the tree that she could start with so that she did now know what it was.  Kristoff, not wanting to give her anything special to distract from the personal gift her got her – and knowing no one would take it from her anyway – went along with the theme and chosen a belt buckle that said ‘Ladies my eyes are up here’ with arrows pointing up.  When she opened it, her and everyone else burst out laughing.  Sven’s name was drawn next, and he promptly stole it, and snarled at anyone who’s turn was next.  They all seemed to silently agree that it suited Sven’s personality and would be funnier on him than anyone else, so he of course, ended up with it.

All Anna’s gifts were wonderful and she ended up with the salt and pepper shakers, which she told him she secretly loved and hoped to get, Kristoff got the two free passes for mini golf since he was being nice and didn’t want to steal an awesome gift, and everyone else ended up with things that they were happy with.   Especially Coop, who went last and ended up with the gift card.  That kid needed a new pair of boots like no one’s business, and everyone cheered when he stole it from Buck. 

As the evening wore on people started yawning and dropping out, taking the time to thank Anna profusely and asking if there was anything else she needed a hand with.  She had planned to put the tables and chairs away the next day and all the work was done, so she thanked everyone for coming and bid them a Merry Christmas. When it was just Kristoff, Sven and Anna left in the barn, talking quietly over their last drink of the evening, was when it hit him again how amazing this had actually been.  He had never experienced a Christmas like this before.  Certainly not on the ranch, and even with his own adoptive family.  Theirs were rather quiet affairs, where as this one was anything but.  It warmed his heart to know that with Anna’s help… hell, it was all going to be Anna who was he kidding, that the direction the ranch was going to take in the future would be something amazing to see. 

---

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter ---

A/N ~ If anyone is curious about me choosing Weadick for Art’s surname, it’s because of Guy Weadick, the founder of the Calgary Stampede (The Greatest Outdoor Show on Earth).  His name is synonymous with the over 100-year-old event and has a lot of cultural significance to Calgary.  He staged the first Stampede in 1912, and if you are curious there is a short Wikipedia article on him that is worth a read!

[bloodgulchblog]

What are the weirdest facts about Halo you know. Like just absurd stuff. I mean there’s the worm mechs but I wanna know if there’s more

ALRIGHT let's see what I can remember off the top of my head before I have to leave for the day:

Once upon a time in the most ancient space days before the Halos were fired, everyone in the galaxy thought the San'Shyuum were incredibly sexy.

A scrapped enemy from the early Halos was a gigantic, lumbering one-eyed creature that they were thinking was a whole species the Covenant weaponized. The Sharquoi would later be used as a forgotten Forerunner weapon in a novel that are hive-mind controlled from this metal crown that will dig into your brain.

It's a kind of widely known fact about them, but the Forerunners as a species reached a point where they were not considered to be actual adults until their bodies had been extensively augmented, and it was a signifier of importance and status to go through multiple mutations over the course of their lives. (Which is why they are so radically different from one another in size/shape/appearance.)

The way the Librarian found out about how the Forerunners genocided the Precursors was by traveling out to where it happened and finding a planet where there was a population of Forerunners that had been surviving without technology for tons and tons and tons of generations. (They conveyed this information to her by biting her, so that the bacteria their ancestors had genetically engineered to contain memory and information could teach her about it.)

We have one canonical example of a smart AI living for a very long time... and it's because he was actually two AIs in a trenchcoat who would switch which personality was in charge while the other one went out to live in the internet-of-things between space tractors and cropdusters for a while to recharge.

Jiralhanae smell. They communicate tons of information through scent/pheromones, and are noted to stink noticeably when they're scared.

The Unggoy are a very musical people. They have a 42-storey high building in their capital city dedicated just to the musical arts.

The way the Covenant found the mech worms in the first place was that the Lek'golo worms were eating Forerunner technology and they did not like that, but then they figured out that SOME of them would just eat AROUND the technology so they had an Arbiter negotiate with them and get them to help kill off the other kinds. Normal Covenant stuff.

Huragok are actually living tools created by the Forerunners for building and maintaining stuff. There were once some Huragok that were used by Forerunner Lifeworkers that could work with living tissue the way other Huragok work with machines, but they were all wiped out. (...One does show up in a book but shshhhh I'm trying to keep this simple.)

Ideas of the "ideal female body" humans have are based on the Librarian's appearance because she messed around with genetically implanting stuff into humans so much.

The way you euphemistically talk about Sangheili groups that let their women fight more than is conventionally allowed is you say they have a "strong protector-of-eggs tradition."

The whole splinter population of Sangheili I mentioned recently that didn't want to joint he Covenant, so they went and hid in a Forerunner structure and succeeded for several thousand years.

The planet Onyx where the Spartan-IIIs were trained was actually secretly a Forerunner shield world. Now that it's been brought back into normal space, it takes up most of that solar system. The inner surface of the sphere will take generations of work to explore because it is so large.

[abydell]

Another Udonta-Quill Family (Yondad) bit

Yondu strode through the hanger of the Eclector with Peter Quill in toe; the boy carrying his little sister upon his back. They approached a craft docked in the maintenance area.

“Whoa cool!” Peter exclaimed as he saw the ship come into view. It was an old piece of construction equipment, it had an odd rounded shape and was yellow in color.

Yondu glanced down and chuckled at the boy's wide-eyed look of wonder over the big old hunk of junk.

“What is it?” Peter asked excitedly.

“A laser drill, meant to be for mining…but that’s not what we’re gonna use it for.” Yondu explained.

“Awesome. Can we check out the inside?” Peter’s eyes were hopeful and pleading.

Yondu looked to his crewmen who were working on repairing the craft, “Nothing is operational captain, should be okay.” one of them informed.

Yondu grunted then jerked his chin up, signaling Peter forwards.

Peter smiled and hitched his sister a little higher on his back as he ascended the loading ramp up into the ship, Yondu followed.

Once in the cockpit, Peter dropped his sister down into the co-pilot’s seat, “Alright, I’ll be the captain and you’ll be my First Mate, okay?” Peter told her.

“Kay,” she replied happily.

Yondu crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, watching silently. The corner of his mouth turned up as Peter placed himself confidently in the Pilots chair, adjusting some of the control settings, though it did nothing; he was just pretending, Yondu realized.

Even though Peter was now in his early teens, Yondu knew he still had quite the childish streak and didn’t mind at all playing these types of games with his younger sister.

“Ready?” Peter said, “Begin take off sequence–”

“Wait!” the little girl to Peter’s left spouted, “What about daddy?”

“Oh… um,” Peter looked back over his shoulder to Yondu with an uneasy expression, unsure of whether or not to assign him a subordinate position.

“Daddy can be Gef.” the girl said, like that was the final word on the matter.

Peter looked bewildered. Yondu just chuckled as he stepped forward, “Shit, I’ll be Gef,” he said as he grabbed some goggles out of the service compartment. Placing them up upon his forehead, he pulled on his ear as Gef often did, and started pressing random buttons and switches on a side panel, “Uhhhmm, yep, all systems look good, Wait no– errrrrr” he squinted and leaned closer to the blank screen. The kids laughed at his impression. “Yeah, ready for docking detachment on your word, Captain,” Yondu turned and gave Peter a sly grin.

Peter's ear to ear smile lit up his whole face.

Soon the trio were pretending they were flying through a quantum asteroid field, but they’d shout out increasingly ridiculous objects that would appear before them out the viewport window.

“Aahh! That’s no moon, It’s the Death-Star!” Peter yelled.

“Ablisk! Ablisk!” his sister shouted.

“Go to the right, I think I saw a food skiff.” Yondu/Gef added.

Kraglin walked across the metal catwalk in front of the viewport window.

“Kraglin no! Get out of the way!”

“Fool is out there without a space suit, again.”

“Get him with the tractor bean!”

Kraglin turned his head and paused as he spotted them. He couldn’t hear them, he just saw Pete and his sister gesturing wildly and waving their arms at him, Yondu standing between them wearing goggles. Kraglin shook his head with a smirk and continued on his way.

“Hey Dada– uh, I mean Gef,”

Yondu turned to her, “Yeah lil’ bit?”

She pointed out the viewport window at nothing in particular “What’s that?”

Yondu/Gef shrugged, “Eh, could be my brains, cause I sure ain’t got ‘em in my head.”

“Pfft, nah, everyone knows Gef’s brains are in his stomach.” Peter chuckled.

“–What’re y’all doin?” a voice called from behind them.

All three turned to see Meredith entering the cockpit with a bemused expression on her face.

“Hey now, how’d a space angel get in here?” Yondu cracked a crooked grin.

“Shoulda figured y’all would be playin around in this thing.” Meredith told them.

Yondu stepped up to her, “The kids were curious is all.”

“Is that so,” Meredith placed her hands gently upon the lapels of his jacket as he shrugged.

“Mommy don’t, he’s Gef.” Lil bit warned.

Meredith paused, “Oh, you’re Gef huh?” she eyed him up and down.

“Yes ma’am.” Yondu grinned.

She spied the goggles and laughed, “Got it, well when you do see Yondu, tell him I want him up in the quarters.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Ugh, you guys can play later.” Peter complained, “We’re in the middle of a mission here.”

“Alright,” Meredith relented, giving Yondu a slight push. “So anyways, I got some of those new snacks you guys were askin for.”

“Zarg-nuts?” Peter lit up, “Oh cool! Thanks mom!”

“Yay! Zag nuts!” Lil’ bit spouted.

“I gotta get back to it, y’all play nice now.”

“We will, love you mom!”

“Love you too.” Meredith said and winked at Yondu as she descended the ladder out of the cockpit.

“Later sweetheart.” Yondu called after her.

“Whoa Gef, don’t talk to my mom like that,” Peter smirked, “or my pop will kick your ass.”

“Boy, ain’t no way you can trick me into kicking my own ass.”

“Well you know, never hurts to try,”

“Cheeky brat.” Yondu grunted.

“Gef, get back to your post, or I will whip your ass.” Peter said.

“Alright that’s it, I’m pulling a mutiny.” Yondu growled and moved into Peter’s space.

“What? No!” Peter’s suppressed laughter as Yondu began punching playfully at his chest and stomach, “Gah! One man mutinies don’t count!” Peter shouted as he squirmed around and tried to fight back in his seat.

“Says who,” Yondu spun and scooped his daughter up, placing her over his shoulder, “I’m takin this lil’ bit with me too,”

“Hey give her back!” Peter jumped up from the chair and gave chase.

They quickly caught up with Meredith and the sounds of playful laughter echoed through the maintenance bay.

------------

Authors Note:

This is from my variant timeline of the Star-Queen universe. So fanfiction inspired by fanfiction.

'Lil' bit' can be Yondu and Meredith's halfbreed daughter,

Or she could be a baby they ended up adopting (Mantis even maybe)