#he even ridiculed the Swedish king in this one

[fashionlandscapeblog]

A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence (2014) - dir. Roy Andersson

Roy Andersson is one of the most iconoclastic living European film directors and I can't recommend enough his movies saturated with ultra black humor, particularly if you have a deep distate for fascism, conservativism, nationalism, racism, and meanness in general. Even though his oeuvre has been described as 'Ingmar Bergman meets Monty Python', he has a very distinctive style and visual language that can even be considered surrealist. His films are more relevant than ever in today's political climate.

[cleo-fox]

Conquer

Part 2 of 5

Series Masterlist

Series Summary: The king intends to take a bride. You just never thought it would be you. (Soulmate AU where Loki won)

Chapter Summary: It’s no surprise that Loki has a gift for talking dirty and you wish that it didn’t work as well as it does. You wish that—for example—it were a little more challenging for him to talk you into letting him get you off in the limo on your way to a gala event hosted by the Swedish government.

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Tag List: I don’t have a tag list for this fic, sorry! The best way to hear about updates is to follow me on Tumblr or subscribe to the fic on AO3.

Chapter Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, enemies to lovers, dirty talk, praise kink, edging, teasing, p in v sex, vaginal fingering, orgasm delay, semi-public sex, light Dom/sub. (see series masterlist for series warnings)

A/N: I realize that the GIF I'm using for this chapter is TVA!Loki, but the attitude is very much in keeping with this chapter, so I decided to forgo accuracy in favor of thirst. Also, you may be thinking "Part 2 of 5? I thought this was going to be 3 chapters!" Me too. Welcome to what it's like being in my brain: even I don't know what's going on here.

The wedding night isn’t the end of the sex, of course.

The immediate, sharp need for your first coupling is gone, but there’s a dull and persistent ache that keeps you coming back to his bed every night (and several times during the day). Loki is equally ravenous, if not more so.

While you’ve come to terms with the fact that you’re going to fuck him, you still don’t like being the one to initiate sex. It sounds silly, but it feels like admitting to a vulnerability that you’re not prepared to acknowledge, let alone act on.

The problem is that your sex drive has skyrocketed since the wedding.

You’ve heard about this happening—the saying soulbonds are meant to be consummated, but some are more thorough than others didn’t come out of nowhere. You just didn’t think it would be a problem for you, especially once you found out who your soulmate was. 

You were wrong about this, of course—you are constantly horny. Your mind is a cineplex of perversion, constantly playing memories of the times that he has fucked you, ways he might fuck you next, his hands, his lips, his tongue, his annoyingly perfect cock. It makes you want to run your brain through the washing machine, like a couple of Tide pods and an extra rinse cycle might fix this.

But the part that drives you crazy is that he always seems to know when you’re in these moods and he always manages to claim the upper hand. It is—like so many things with Loki—profoundly irritating.

It’s all physical—your conversations are limited to the mundane or the utterly filthy. It’s no surprise that Loki has a gift for talking dirty and you wish that it didn’t work as well as it does. You wish that—for example—it were a little more challenging for him to talk you into letting him get you off in the limo on your way to a gala event hosted by the Swedish government.

You can feel his gaze caressing your body as you walk down the stairs to meet him. Your dress is gold and glittery, and hugs your curves while the slit sneaks just high enough that you know the fashion blogs will call it daring. You keep your eyes on your feet and your hand on the railing as you navigate the stairs in your heels. Normally, Loki would comment on that—something about how you needed proper education in comportment, you were a queen, queens don’t stare at their feet, people expected elegance, blah, blah, blah. Tonight, though, he’s silent as he takes you in, which you know means that he’s particularly enchanted by how you look. For a brief moment, you allow yourself to feel sexy and confident, to enjoy the fact that the most powerful man on the planet has been rendered speechless by how you look.

Are you ridiculously horny? Sure, but you’ve got it under control. You can hold out for an evening and you’re pretty sure Loki hasn’t figured it out. If he had, he almost certainly would have said something inappropriate when he offered you his arm. He’s probably going to be distracted by the gala anyway. Why had you ever doubted yourself?

When the two of you get into the limo, you remember why. 

The moment the door shuts behind you, Loki is pulling you close, his hands cupping your breasts and then sliding down to your thighs while his lips latch on to the spot where your neck and shoulder meet.

“What are you doing?” you ask, as though his intentions are in any way unclear.

“You need to come. I can smell you.” He’s hiking up the fabric of your dress.

Well. So much for him not noticing.

Your cunt clenches. “We’re in public.”

“Those windows are tinted and the partition is up.” His breath is warm on your neck as the fabric of your dress pools around your waist. 

“I can still wait.”

“Oh, I don’t think you can.” His fingers slip between your legs (when did you spread your legs for him?), gently grazing the gusset of your underwear, which you know is embarrassingly wet. “Soaked already,” he breathes, rubbing your clit through the thin fabric. “You need to come.”

“I-I c-can—I can wait until—oh fuck.” 

He pushes the fabric of your underwear aside and lightly teases your clit with the tip of his finger.

“You can’t,” he rasps, lightly nipping at your earlobe. “You’re such a greedy, needy little thing. Your cunt is insatiable.”

He presses his first three fingers together and rubs your clit in a big, broad circle that makes your back arch.

“Fuck,” you breathe, your hands flexing against the seat. “Fuck, just like that.”

“I thought you said you could wait?” he says with that mocking lilt to his voice, the one that makes you simultaneously want to punch him in the face and also ride him hard and fast and a little rough.

“Shut up,” you grit out.

He laughs low in your ear. “Oh, you don’t mean that, I know you love it when I talk you through it.”

You hate that he’s right.

“You love hearing about how tight and wet you are, how hard I am for you.” He drops his voice lower. “How hard I’m going to fuck you.”

You can’t help the quiet moan that falls from your lips.

“Yes, you love it when I talk to you like this,” he purrs. “And I love hearing what an utterly filthy, wicked girl you are.”

You whimper, despite your best efforts to keep quiet. 

“Oh, I like that little noise,” he says, increasing his pace ever so slightly. “Let me hear you.”

“I hate you so much.”

You’ve said this to him before and like all the other times, he simply laughs. “Hate me all you like, darling, but you and I both know that you love what I do to you.”

You bite your lip and try to focus on the pleasure that’s rising in your hips.

“Has anyone ever made you come as hard as I do?” he muses, like he’s just making casual conversation. “From the way that you scream and beg for it, I imagine that there haven’t been very many that were capable. Your cunt has quite clearly been neglected.”

You’re going to ignore what he’s saying. That’s what you’re going to do. There’s no reason to listen to any of what he’s saying.

“The truth is that you need me, don’t you?” he says, nipping at your ear. “You need me because I know exactly what to do to sate your needy little cunt. I know exactly how to make you scream.”

You hate how close you are, hate how the impending rush of your orgasm has basically rendered you speechless, save for a few incoherent whimpers.

He brings his lips close to your ear, lowering his voice to a growl. “What would those pitiful Midgardians say if they knew their queen was such a needy little slut?”

Instead of delivering a stern rebuke, you come hard. Incredibly hard—it is arguably one of the most intense orgasms he’s given you yet, blazing through your body with a ferocity that leaves you shaking in its wake.

And he notices.

“Oh, you liked that, didn’t you?” he purrs as he rubs you through the aftershocks. “I felt how hard you came, how utterly desperate you are for me to fuck you.” 

“Loki, please,” you breathe.

He tugs at your underwear. “Take this off.”

Your first instinct is to challenge him, but the fabric is now uncomfortably damp and you desperately need him to fuck you, so you lift your hips and slide your underwear down and off your legs without any complaint. He takes it from you and sticks it in his pocket.

You expect to hear the clink of his belt buckle followed by his silky smooth voice ordering you to sink down on his unfairly perfect cock. Even though you’ve just come, you want more. You always do with him. 

(You decide not to think too much about that last part).

Instead, though, he smooths his hair and settles back into his seat, looking out the window. After a moment, you clear your throat expectantly. 

He glances at you, utterly casual. “What is it?”

Your eyes narrow. He’s playing dumb and you both know it. 

“You made me take off my underwear,” you say, biting back a sharper reply.

“I did.”

“So…fuck me.”

He gives an amused little chuckle that makes your palm itch to slap him. “Darling, we’re in public, that would be unseemly.”

You roll your eyes before you can stop yourself. “You’re full of it.”

His gaze turns smoldering and stern. “And if you want to be full of my cock later tonight, you’ll change your attitude.”

You’re not sure if it’s the absence of underwear that makes you feel more aroused than usual or if he’s awakened some latent perversion you were previously unaware of. Possibly, it’s both.

Your breath hitches and he smiles like he knows he has the upper hand.

“Do you want that?” he says. “Do you want me to fill your tight little cunt with my big cock?”

You’re so far gone that you find yourself nodding before the thought of being contrary can even cross your mind.

“Well, then,” he says, flicking an invisible speck of dust from his tuxedo jacket, “you’re going to have to earn it.”

You huff out an irritated sigh and yank the skirt of your dress back down. “You’re an ass,” you say with a scowl.

“And you’re going to do exactly as I tell you or you won’t be coming at all.”

You stare at him, lips parted in the start of a complaint.

“And however much your pretty cunt is aching right now, I imagine it will be twice as worse tomorrow with no release,” he says. “If I’m feeling generous, of course. I could always make you wait longer.”

You close your mouth, biting back the urge to scowl.

He smirks. “That’s my good girl.”

Your cunt throbs. By the end of the night, your thighs will surely be sticky with your own arousal.

“This is unfair,” you grumble, crossing your arms and sitting back in your seat.

“Behave,” he says as you approach a rather impressive set of gates. “We’re almost there.”

A flick of his wrist sends seidr racing along your skin, smoothing your hair, straightening your dress, and fixing the smudge of lipstick at the corner of your mouth.

Your underwear remains in his pocket.

You have a feeling it’s going to be a long evening.

The Minister for Finance is giving a presentation. You’re not entirely sure that you would have been able to follow it under normal circumstances, but certainly not with Loki’s hand up your dress.

The two of you are seated at your own table—it’s one of the more stupid formalities he insists on, though you suppose it’s advantageous in this instance. His actions are obscured by the table and tablecloth and probably a little magic, but your heart is still racing with the thrill of it. His movements have been slow and deliberate, and the result is that he’s effectively been edging you for the duration of this forty-five minute presentation.

It feels incredible; it’s agony. You love it; you hate it.

“You’re being a very good girl,” Loki murmurs to you at one point and that alone nearly sends you over the edge.

“You’re a jackass,” you whisper back to him.

He chuckles. “If you want me to let you come once we get home, I’d suggest changing your tone, my love.”

You resist the urge to scowl, but only barely. “You made me come in the limo over here because you said I couldn’t wait,” you point out. “What happened to that philosophy?”

“It was supplanted by a desire to see what happens when I tease you for several hours.” A wicked smile curls at his lips. “Besides, I love how tight and desperate your cunt feels when I make you beg for me.”

You always come hardest when he makes you beg for him. You’d never admit it, though.

“I’d think you’d be more concerned about getting caught,” you say. “What do you think that would do to your image?”

“Oh, I think it would do wonders for my image,” he says. “Attentively tending to my wife’s needs despite potential social embarrassment? It’s rather feminist of me, don’t you think?”

“Okay, first of all, that is not what femini—” Your voice cuts out as he rolls his finger in a particularly devastating circle.

“What was that, my love?” he asks, voice thick with faux concern, his true intent easily betrayed by his shit eating grin. “You seem distracted.”

You’re not entirely sure if you’re tensing your muscles in anticipation of an orgasm or in an effort to stave it off. “You’re awful.”

His voice drops. “But I’m making you feel so very good, aren’t I?”

You take a deep breath, trying to soothe the tightening knot in your belly, even as your body is begging you to rush toward it.

“Aren’t I?” His tone turns stern and you hear the implied order loud and clear.

“Yes,” you bite out.

“Yes what?”

You swallow. You’re starting to get close, closer than he’s let you get so far. “Yes, you’re making me feel good.”

He smirks. “You’re getting close, aren’t you?”

You nod, taking another deep breath through your nose. Keep it together.

“I could let you come,” he muses. “Everyone’s watching the presentation. You could be quiet, couldn’t you?” His pace increases just slightly, enough for you to start to feel the tempting, shimmery tendrils of release. “Do you want that, lovely?”

It’s not a good idea, but you nod anyway. 

“I had no idea you were so filthy.” His fingers are massaging your clit more firmly and you bite back a gasp because you know it won’t be long. You’re trying to keep a straight face, but you’re struggling. You are so deliciously close.

“Are you going to come for me?” he asks quietly. He knows the answer.

You nod, not trusting your voice.

But just as you’re about to start to tip over the edge, Loki’s hand retreats and the building pressure in your hips diminishes back to that steady, throbbing ache just as the Minister for Finance concludes his presentation.

Loki is smirking like he expected this. “Ah. Unfortunate timing.”

You may kill him.

“You did that on purpose, you ass,” you hiss at him.

“Oh, you’ll thank me for it later,” he says, his voice dropping low.

You scowl at him, though you suspect he’s probably right.

You get a slight reprieve during dinner, but only in the sense that Loki’s hand is no longer up your dress. Your aching arousal remains, coating the inside of your thighs. Your heartbeat seems to be pulsing in your clit, the muscles of your cunt aching as they clench repeatedly around nothing.

While his hand is no longer up your dress, Loki continues to be as unhelpful as possible.

“Shall I let you unravel on my tongue?” he murmurs to you during the main course. “Or do you need my cock first?”

“I think you need to stop talking,” you say as evenly as you can muster.

“Whatever for?” he asks with the sort of feigned innocence that tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing. “Surely you’re not concerned that I’m going to make you come simply by telling you what I want to do to you.”

You take a slow sip of your water.

“Or perhaps that idea appeals to you?” he asks, dropping his voice even lower. “Do you want me to make you come in front of all of these people?”

There’s something about the idea that’s admittedly appealing in a taboo sort of way, though you aren’t quite sure you actually want to pursue it or if you’re just so desperate that even objectively bad ideas sound good.

“Truly, I doubt you could keep quiet,” he says. “You and I both know how much you like to scream for me and I’ve been teasing you for what, three hours now? But perhaps that’s what you want. You were about to come for me earlier. Perhaps you want them all to know what a needy little sl—ah, Stefan! So good to see you again.”

Loki has seamlessly directed his attention to the Swedish official who has approached your table. His ability to be charming and personable is irritating, particularly when he’s often been uttering absolute filth to you mere seconds before. Meanwhile, your brain has completely short circuited—your thoughts stopped being anywhere near coherent when he started touching you under the table during that presentation and your cunt is pulsing. You manage a polite smile and a pleasantly vague expression that you hope hides the fact that all you can think about is Loki throwing you down on the table and fucking you until you can’t walk straight and you’ve screamed yourself hoarse.

“You conducted yourself quite well,” Loki says softly once the man leaves. “I’d never have guessed that you’re hiding such a needy, sloppy cunt under that dress.”

You take a deep breath. “What’s to stop me from slipping off somewhere and taking care of things myself?”

His eyes flash a little dangerously and you hate how much it thrills you. “If you do that, I’ll see to it that you don’t come for a week. At least.”

You are irritated with him, certainly, but you are far more irritated with yourself for being even remotely aroused by his words.

“You’re insufferable,” you hiss instead.

Loki smirks and leans in to whisper in your ear. “We’ll see how you feel a few hours from now when I’m buried in your tight cunt.” His breath ghosts over your ear and it takes everything in you not to shiver. “I suspect I’ll find you much more agreeable. You always are when you need to be fucked.” His voice drops even lower. “And I know how much you need it.”

Your legs are shaking and you wonder how you’re going to make it through the rest of the evening.

You almost come during the concert.

It was probably easier for them to set up the orchestra on the same stage as the presentation, but it means that you’re still sitting at the same table as before, which gives Loki more than enough cover to continue touching you. His hand is creeping back up your dress before the oboe even plays the tuning note and while he’s still going slowly, it’s been four and a half hours and your body is aching for release in a way you have rarely felt.

His fingertip skates across your clit just a little too quickly and firmly and suddenly, you’re poised right on the edge. One more stroke of his fingers, just one more slight movement and you’ll come.

It’s a split second decision, so quick you can scarcely think twice about it. You desperately want to come, but even though you almost let it happen earlier, you know that a stifled public orgasm isn’t really what you want. You want him to hear you scream—you don’t want to hold back.

And you want to be good for him. You want him to reward you for being good, you want to be his good girl—

You shake your head to dismiss that thought and grab his wrist in a silent warning. Quickly, he moves his hand away, sliding it to your knee. Your cunt shudders and aches, the pulsing throb of your arousal even stronger than before.

He brushes his lips against your ear. “Oh, very good, darling. You’ll be rewarded for that.”

“You could reward me now and take me home,” you say pointedly, though it would probably be more effective if your voice wasn’t so shaky.

He chuckles, draping his arm around your shoulders. Every so often, you’ve seen a candid photo of the two of you in People or one of the other celebrity magazines and you’re always taken aback by how normal you look. You imagine that it would be the same if someone were to take a photo right now—you’d look like just another couple cuddling and canoodling instead of…whatever it is you actually are. Soulmates who hate each other but fuck like it’s their job and the rent is due? There’s no easy way to classify your relationship, which you suppose is for the best: this is not the sort of thing that should be common enough to have its own word.

“We still have quite a bit to go.” He brings his index finger—the same one that had just been up your dress—up to his lips and closes his eyes like he’s tasting something divine. “Norns, I can taste how desperate you are.”

You cross your legs in the hope that it will alleviate the pulsing ache between your thighs (it doesn’t). “You’re not helping.”

“Of course I’m not,” he says. “I told you, I want you begging for me by the end of the night.”

“How have I not already exceeded that threshold?”

He smirks. “I like to be thorough.”

Five minutes later, his hand is back between your thighs.

“Let’s try that again,” he murmurs. “Do you think you’ll be able to resist a second time?”

Somehow, you do—and two more times after that. By the end of the concert, your heart is pounding, your legs feel like rubber, your cunt is dripping, and you’d easily sell your soul for an orgasm.

“You’re doing so well, darling,” says Loki. He’s been full of praise and filthy promises and you can’t decide if that makes it better or worse.

“Can we please go home?”

He chuckles. “Of course not, that would be rude.”

“I have a hard time believing you’re concerned about rudeness, considering where your hands have been this evening,” you say with a pointed look.

“You wound me.” He stands and offers you his hand. You take it grudgingly, your legs wobbling slightly. “Now. Come help me charm the Minister for Defense. I need him to be much more cooperative about sharing intelligence.”

The only good thing about schmoozing with Swedish officials is that Loki can’t have his hand up your dress while doing so. Even so, he still finds ways to be constantly touching you—a hand on your lower back, your elbow, your shoulder, your waist. These things shouldn’t be erotic, but he somehow manages to make them so. Every brush of his fingers against your bare skin is agony: you are burning for him.

You watch the clock tick through another hour and a half while trying not to let anyone on to the fact that you’re keen to leave. Time feels like it’s dragging—even when the event officially ends, it still takes another thirty-seven minutes for you to say your farewells and make your way out to the front where your limo is waiting.

Your legs are shaking as Loki helps you into the limo. He slides into the seat next to you and you find yourself leaning into him, unable to resist any longer.

The door shuts.

“Loki—” you start to say.

“When we get home,” he says promptly.

“You can’t possibly—”

“Oh, I can.” He pulls you into his lap. “I’ve been hard for you all evening,” he purrs in your ear, settling you so that the thick column of his cock presses hard against your ass. “Do you know how many times I nearly dragged you off to some empty room to take you up against the wall?” He brings his mouth down against your neck, teeth pressing against your skin just hard enough to almost hurt. You tilt your head to the side to give him better access, guiding his hands to your spread thighs.

“Do you know why I didn’t?” he murmurs against your skin.

“Because you make terrible choices?” you say before you can think it through.

His low laugh rumbles deliciously against your throat. “No.” His hands slip underneath the hem of your dress, fingertips skating along the tender skin of your inner thigh. Your hips roll forward almost unconsciously, your breath hitching. 

“I didn’t because I know that you need to scream for me,” he says. “Just as much as I need to hear you.” His fingertip grazes your slit. “And you know that we can’t do that properly in the car.” His finger strokes your clit and you moan. “Poor thing,” he murmurs, tracing a slow circle over the sensitive skin. “I don’t think that I’ve ever made you this wet.”

“Loki—”

“I’m not giving you permission to come yet,” he murmurs, adding just a little more pressure. “I need you to be good for just a little longer.”

You let out a whine that you’re not at all proud of as he moves his hand away to gently massage your inner thighs. “Loki, please.”

“Be good.” His voice promises pleasure and punishment and everything in between and you feel drunk with desire.

“I’ve been so good,” you say, bringing his hand back to your cunt. “Please just let me come.”

“When we get home.”

“Just once. Please.”

He chuckles and brings his lips up to your ear. “You know that I’m going to take care of you,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “You know I always take care of your needy cunt. I always make you come. You just need to wait a little longer.”

“I need to come now.”

“Think about how good it’s going to feel if you wait just a little longer.”

“It would feel good now.”

“It will feel even better in our bed.” He rolls his fingers in a slow circle on your clit. “You know it will.”

You whimper, rolling your hips with his hand.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this desperate,” he says. “I’m rather partial to it.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you grumble.

“Oh, I’d advise you watch your tone, darling,” he says low in your ear, sliding a finger inside you, his thumb taking up the rhythm on your clit. “I don’t want to deny you, but I may have to if you keep being so pert.”

As if to make a point, he slides another finger inside of you and you find yourself once again on the edge. You grab his wrist, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you try to hold back the rising tide within you.

“Oh, good fucking girl,” he growls and the pride in his voice makes your cunt clench hard on his retreating fingers. “You want to come so badly, but you’re being so good waiting for my permission.”

“God, this had better be worth it,” you say as you wait for the pulsing ache between your thighs to recede.

“It will be,” he murmurs against your neck. “You know it will be.” He shifts you in his lap so you face him and guides your hand to his cock. “Do you feel how hard you’ve made me? I’m aching for you.”

You rub his shaft, working your way up to catch the tab of his zipper between your fingers. He looks at you, eyes hungry, a smirk curling at his lips.

Slowly, you pull down the zipper.

“Oh you wicked thing,” he purrs, a low groan escaping him as you wrap your hand around his shaft and slowly begin stroking him. He’s rock hard and throbbing, and your hand quickly grows slick with his precome.

You lean in, brushing your lips against his ear. “I want you to fuck me,” you say, flicking your tongue against his earlobe.

He chuckles. “Are you trying to flip the tables on me, darling?”

You’re a little miffed that he figured that out so quickly. “Would that be so bad if I was?”

He laughs again. “You’re adorable.” He slides a hand along your inner thigh and back under your dress. “But I think we both know who’s really in charge here.”

Even the possibility of his hand touching your cunt has your breath quickening and your hand faltering in its rhythm on his cock.

You’re not about to admit defeat, though.

“Don’t you want to fuck me?” you say, trying to keep the quaver out of your voice. You give his cock a few long, indulgent strokes. “We’re nearly there already. All I’d need to do is move a little closer.”

He chuckles, his hand sliding up to lightly tease your folds. “I would have made you warm my cock the whole ride back,” he says casually, like he’s commenting on the weather, “but I don’t think you could have done it without coming. You’re too sensitive.”

Your lips part like you have something to say, but all rational thought and the entirety of the English language has fled your brain and even more arousal is pooling between your legs.

Loki smirks like he knows all of this and he briefly strokes you from your entrance to your clit before withdrawing. “Ah, we’re nearly home,” he says, moving your hand away and patting your thigh before tucking himself back into his trousers. “Let’s make ourselves presentable, shall we?”

You climb off his lap and straighten your dress, but don’t even bother trying to fix your hair or makeup. You stumble out of the car a minute later, hoping that you don’t look like you’ve spent the entire evening poised on the brink of orgasm.

Loki, of course, is annoyingly put together. He wraps an arm around your waist and leads you forward.

“Oh, the things I’m going to do to you when we get to our rooms,” he says under his breath as you make your way into the foyer. 

“That had better be a promise,” you say.

“I thought we established that I’m the one who gives you orders—”

“We established nothing—”

One of his advisors—Sigurd, the same one who spoke to you in the hotel when he found you—is approaching Loki at a brisk clip.

“Your majesty—”

Loki barely takes his eyes off of you. “Later,” he says, waving a hand in Sigurd’s direction.

“Sire, it’s urgent.”

Your heart sinks. Loki stops and turns to Sigurd, eyes sharp, mouth pulled into a firm line. “It had better be.”

Despite the intensity of Loki’s expression, Sigurd looks unbothered and remarkably calm. “We received new intelligence on the matter you inquired about earlier, your majesty.”

Loki’s expression darkens and you realize with a sinking sensation that he has to go deal with whatever this is. “A moment,” he says to Sigurd before turning to you.

He lowers his voice so that only you can hear him. “Go to our rooms,” he murmurs. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” 

You nod and he leans in, brushing his lips against your temple. “Be good for me.”

A thrill runs through you.

By the time you get back to your rooms, though, you’re a little annoyed. He’s been teasing you for hours and when you finally get home, he suddenly has another work thing?

It would almost be funny if it wasn’t so frustrating.

Though admittedly, he did look pretty surprised and annoyed by Sigurd’s sudden appearance. It’s probably not fair to blame him for that.

Probably.

You take your time getting undressed, mainly in the hope that it will somehow hasten his return or trick you into thinking time is passing quickly. Not that you’re looking forward to him returning for any reason other than sex. You still hate him—you just really need him to fuck you. That’s all it is.

You hesitate for a long time over the collection of silk nightgowns in your wardrobe. Should you put something on? Should you just wait naked on the bed? A silky green number catches your eye. He’d probably like that. He’s pretty predictable when it comes to that sort of thing—put on his colors and he goes feral. With any luck you won’t be wearing it for very long, but you might as well do what you can to facilitate that outcome.

You contemplate underwear and decide there’s little point, given that tonight’s set is still tucked into his pocket.

You situate yourself in the middle of your bed and try not to think about your throbbing cunt. It would be so easy to get yourself off, but you know that it won’t be as good.

You need him.

You try to ignore the thought. It’s just physical. That’s all it is. You’re on edge from being teased all evening. It doesn’t mean anything.

You wait.

It’s late when you finally hear the door click open, followed by the tap of his dress shoes on the floor.

You sit up in bed, your eyes roving greedily over him. His suit jacket is gone and his tie is draped around his neck, shirtsleeves rolled up. You are loath to admit it, but it’s incredibly hot.

Before you can even get any words out, he’s striding across the room, eyes hungrier than you’ve ever seen them. His clothes disappear the second he hits the bed, followed swiftly by your nightgown. Seconds later, he’s on top of you, mouth seeking yours, cock pressing insistently against your stomach. Your hands are just as greedy, skimming up his back and combing through his hair.

“Have you been good for me?” he murmurs as he nudges your thighs apart.

“Yes.”

“Did you touch yourself?” he asks, his voice stern.

“No,” you say.

He knows you’re not lying and the hungry smile he gives you almost makes it all feel worth it. “Good girl,” he growls. “Do you want me to fuck you now?”

“Yes,” you say breathlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he drags his cock through your slickness. “Please.”

He chuckles as he lines himself up at your entrance. “I know, darling, I’m going to take such good care of you.”

Your cunt is so slick and sensitive from his hours of teasing that just the act of him sliding inside of you feels like you’ve reached your own personal nirvana. 

“Oh, fuck.” Your voice comes out in a whimper and your legs tighten around his waist to hold him in place because he feels so overwhelmingly good.

Loki lets out a low groan as he eases inside you, catching his lower lip between his teeth as his brow furrows. “Perfect.” He leans in to kiss you as he starts to move. His first thrust is slow but even so, it draws a whimper from your throat. He’s always felt good, but this is transcendent.

“Oh god, please don’t stop,” you gasp.

“I won’t, my love.” His voice is tender as he moves with an aching, slow precision. “Not until you’ve had your fill.”

For the first time this evening, you let down your guard. Every time he’s touched you tonight—even before the gala in the limo—you’ve had to hold back to some degree. You haven’t been able to give into it, to let yourself be completely unbound and unguarded. But now when he’s moving inside of you, you have the freedom to just be and feel and it’s exquisite. Every thrust of his hips, every reverent caress of his hands, every sigh or groan is an opportunity to discover a new kind of heaven.

“You were magnificent tonight,” he murmurs, sliding his hand between your bodies to rub your clit. “Even with my fingers playing with your pretty cunt under the table, you looked every inch a queen. My queen.”

He’s never talked to you like this before and it makes your body sing. You arch, rolling your hips with him as the building wave inside you rises impossibly high, as though every orgasm you almost had this evening is starting to arrive all at once. The tension in your hips is equally fantastic and unbearable, a supernova of sensation that may destroy and remake you all at once.

“Filthy girl, I can tell you’re getting close,” he purrs, tilting his hips so he hits the spot that makes you tremble. “You act so prim and proper in public, but it takes so very little to turn you into my perfect little slut when I get you alone.”

You are approaching the peak, the whirling center of the storm building inside you. “Loki—please, I can’t, I’m gonna—”

“That’s it, darling. Soak my cock like a good girl.”

You always come the hardest when he’s inside you and this is no exception. The pressure in your hips is suddenly and spectacularly ablaze with a shimmering euphoria that draws a raw and primal moan deep from inside your chest. You are a fountain of sparks, all the tension and desire of the evening finally reaching its apex. You have yearned for this all night and the resulting blaze is spectacular.

His pace is still slow, but Loki’s eyes are wild and you get the sense that his composure is hanging by a thread. Though his eyes occasionally flutter shut as your cunt convulses around him, his gaze is locked on you in a kind of wonder. 

“Do you have any idea how good you feel when you come on my cock?” he rasps.

Even in the throes of utter bliss, you need to hear his voice. “Tell me.”

“I would create entire worlds and walk through the fires of their destruction just to feel you come.”

You shudder out a sigh. “More.”

He picks up his pace just slightly. “I would flatten mountains and raise valleys and reverse the currents.”

“More.”

He’s hitting that aching spot inside you again and the rolling tremors of the aftershocks are starting to coalesce into another building wave. You moan and his hand moves back to your clit, slick fingers pressing and rolling in just the way you need.

His eyes shine, bright with lust as his hips and fingers work diligently to unravel you again. “I would take down the stars and bring the heavens to the earth…”

His words are making you dizzy and his movements are coaxing the pressure inside of you into a cyclone that you know is going to take you down.

“Loki, please.” These are the only words you know because your entire world is him moving inside of you, inevitable as the sunrise, the architect of the heavenly destruction and renewal that is building and building in your hips.

He shifts so his weight is entirely on his elbows, bringing his lips up against your ear so you don’t miss a single word. “I would lay my crown at your feet and forsake my name…just to feel you come on my cock.”

The coil in your hips snaps and unfurls into a starry, sparkling oblivion that has you crying out his name over and over like he’s your ending and beginning, the center of your universe. Your eyes are shut against the onslaught of intense sensation, but you can feel him reaching the blissful height he’d been speaking of. He groans and slurs out a few incoherent oaths before succumbing to you and filling your pulsing cunt with his hot release.

His mouth is on yours and he’s kissing you like he means it as he slows to a halt. You lie together for a long moment, hearts beating wildly against each other. 

This felt different than other times. There was an intensity there that had nothing to do with the sex. You don’t know what that means, other than it’s definitely not any kind of feelings for him. It must be something else. You’re certain it’s something else.

“I didn’t realize I’d be called away upon our return.” 

You’re so distracted by your thoughts that the sound of his voice startles you slightly.

“Oh, um, yeah, I figured…it seemed unexpected,” you say.

He lifts his head to look at you, green eyes intent. “Trust that there are very few things that could have pulled me away from you in that moment.”

He’s being sincere. It’s not what you expect and that scares you a little, though you can’t quite articulate why. The idea that he would care whether you thought he’d intentionally extended your wait hadn’t even occurred to you. You don’t really know this side of him. 

“So, it wasn’t like…making a proclamation designating June National Peanut Butter Month.” You know you’re deflecting, but you don’t know what else to do.

He frowns. “That can’t possibly be a real thing.”

You shrug. “It might be. Lots of governments do stuff like that. Maybe you should consider it.”

His smile is slight, but brief as he stretches and slowly eases out of you. “I will leave that to others.”

There’s a beat of quiet and you suddenly find yourself desperate to fill the silence. “What did they need to talk to you about?”

He looks at you sharply and you wonder if this was the wrong thing to say. Loath as you are to admit it, this conversation has fostered a flicker of warmth between you, a fact you only notice now because of its sudden absence.

“It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with,” he says as he rolls off of you. It’s not unkind, but it’s also not warm, and the discussion is clearly closed.

Part of you mourns the loss of that little spark of closeness, but a larger, louder part is intent on pretending it never existed in the first place.

“Suit yourself.”

You’re annoyed and you roll off the bed and go about your evening routine with a little more clattering and stomping than is strictly necessary. There’s a lump in your throat that you don’t understand and you’re full of feelings you can’t define. You eventually settle on the bed with your back facing him, glaring at the wall like he can see you.

But then he reaches for you in the darkness, his arms winding around your waist, nose nuzzling against the nape of your neck as he pulls you to his chest. And instead of reading him the riot act, you let him hold you and let yourself relax into his embrace, fingers twining around his. You sleep better like this, you tell yourself. That’s the only reason you’re allowing it. It’s nothing to do with him.

You’ve told yourself that every night since your wedding and every night, it gets a little more difficult to believe.

Next chapter coming soon

[liquidisedfrogs]

EUROVISION RANT 2024

Last night was the night of creativity and culture that all (probably only like 20%) of Europe adores. Eurovision is one of the times when I, who am a very chill and non-judgemental person, will barf out my thoughts and write my commentary (cos I'm better than Graham Norton). STRAP IN MOTHERFUCKERS.....

We started this wonderful evening with a performance of Hooked On a Feeling which I gotta say is a banger but what's with that Burger King background? He was decent, to say the least but more or less it was just an old dude who stood on the stage singing which is just quite meh. Loved the flag parade, Swedish music is awesome. 

PERFORMANCE 1 : SWEDEN- UNFORGETTABLE- MARCUS & MARTINUS This is a damn catchy song but how are you supposed to tell those twins apart?! I loved the sort of club/ravey vibes it gave. The staging with all the flashing lights was pretty awesome. (ngl those twins were kinda cute) THE MEN IN BLACK DANCERS KILLED ME. It gave Matrix vibes and I'm here for it. The costumes reminded me of F1 drivers but I love it. Rank no. 10

PERFORMANCE 2: UKRAINE- ALYONA ALYONA & JERRY HEIL- TERESA  & MARIA Honestly, one of my favorites. Feminism in a good way. The taller woman gave off such Boudicca vibes and I love that, both women were so gorgeous and had amazing voices put together. I did say the rock reminded me of The Lion King but I really liked that. The costumes were also so aghhhh the Rey-Boudicca and the knight were such a great combo and the song was really catchy. Rank no.4

PERFORMANCE 3: GERMANY- ALWAYS ON THE RUN- ISAAK So. Much. Fire. Ya know, I'm actually disappointed by the fact that it wasn't in German. It's a solid song. It was quite rag-n-bone man style but I appreciate that. I do have to say it wasn't something ridiculously special but it's a nice song and a guy who looks like he gives a good hug. Rank no.14

PERFORMANCE 4: LUXEMBOURG- FIGHTER- TALI Firstly, I love her hair. It's so long and so pretty and she has got an insane voice. I'm not a fan of the song, though. It's too repetitive, extremely forgettable, and just mid song. It just wasn't anything special, it was a quite nice Middle Eastern vibe tho. Rank no. 23

PERFORMANCE 5: He got disqualified so I will not be ranking this.

PERFORMANCE 6: ISRAEL- HURRICANE- EDEN GOLAN What in the voodoo contortionist shit was that position at the beginning? Her dress tho, why she looking like she's just escaped Ghostface. Oh and look more shirtless men.  This isn't the worst song it's just not  the best. Another mid one like literally all of them this year. The dance was giving ring a ring a roses and the floor screens just were not it. She has an amazing voice, I won't lie that she doesn't but it's just not my vibe. Rank no. 17

PERFORMANCE 7:  LITHUANIA- LUKTELK- SILVESTER BELT This is one of my favourites. It's a catchy European bop and I love itttttt. The tracksuit looks well warm. I adore his jewelry its so nice. I literally started cossak dancing it was so catchy. It's a real vibe and I really appreciate it. The short people had me in stitches it was hilarious. It gave off severe jamboree vibe sbut I love that cos it's vibrant and bright and just pretty fucking awesome. Rank no.7 

PERFORMANCE 8: SPAIN- NEBULOSSA- ZORRA I am ashamed to say that I thought this was gonna be high ranking in my books but no. I am a changed person. This is a family show. I get that there's one like this every year but damn this was fucking scary. The men. In fucking thong arsed things. Nicht gut. The song was pretty good tho so and the 80s vibes rlly sold it to me. On the basis of the song not the staging, it was great. And, I mean, making out with a dancer on stage in front of your partner is very eurovision. Rank no. 13

PERFORMANCE 9: ESTONIA- 5MIINUST x PUULUUP-  (NENDEST) NARKOOTIKUMIDEST EI TEA ME (KÜLL) MIDAGI I swear this is just a group of dads who've gone screw it we're doing eurovision and rocked up with 90s rap up their sleeve and traditional instruments. I think its such a vibe and I would kill to be them when I grow up. The suits were great, idk what was up with the slits but for some reason it felt like what a k-pop group would wear to the met gala. Literally the cha cha slide. Rank no.9

PERFORMANCE 10: IRELAND- BAMBIE THUG- DOOMSDAY BLUES Fucking incredible song. Harry Potter mentioneddddd. Their make up is on-point. The song is on point. The outfit is on point. Everything abt it is so wonderfully perfect. The nails are a bit odd but its a vibe. The witches circle was incredible, the screaming bit was too. so witchy, so emo, so awesome. I loved the chilled out bit, in contrast to the rest it was perfect and probably needed. The reduction of clothing towards the end was pretty funny, my brother stared a bit too much but oh well it was great. Rank no. 1

PERFORMANCE 11:  LATVIA- DONS- HOLLOW What in the blue man x Gru crap is this? Honestly I didn't really register this one so I don't have a huge opinion on it. Also gives of Rag-n-Bone Man vibes even if it is  a typical eurovision song. Altogether its a meh song, not a fan, and the fit is just downright strange. Rank no.24 

PERFORMANCE 12: GREECE- MARINA SATTI- ZARI I am confused by this one. She has impeccable vocal control. I am extremely admiring that. The song was just a bit of a rubbish mishmash. There was too many elements. I did quite like that and the live stream addition watching on tv was quite nice. I'm confused by the outfit as well, everything just seems all over the place. It's giving Doja Cat but European. I liked the dance moves and it was pretty darn funny but just a bit mental. Rank no. 18

PERFORMANCE 13: UNITED KINGDOM- OLLY ALEXANDER- DIZZY As the youtube comments said, this gives severe gay lockerroom corn vibes. Just what the friggity frack. The crotch protection while dry humping each other?! It's just a bit odd. I did like the song. It's super catchy and very annoying. That guy can sing but maybe he needs to reevaluate where his loyalties lie in that. The staging was so confusing like for the whole thing I didn't know what was up or down or left or right, it was just mental. First proper European vibe English vibe that I've got. Very odd but it's sorta loveable. Rank no.19

HONOURABLE MENTION: LISA WOODRUFF - My whole family were so confused by this but the song was so funny for no reason such a vibe. It was genuinely better than some of the artists we've had this year. Mental but awesome.

PERFORMANCE 14: NORWAY- GÅTE- ULVEHAM I really enjoyed this one. The vocals are so ethereal and the 90s grunge mixed with Norwegian instrumental influences match perfectly. Stunning lady with an amazing band with her. The song just flowed ad the staging was all sea-witchy and I loved it. Great song, great staging, awesome euovision track. Rank no. 3

PERFORMANCE 15: ITALY- ANGELINA MANGO- LA NOIA The see through ish glittery tights were quite interesting I have to say. Her outfit was breathtaking. Her voice like many of these artists is incredible but not my vibe I have to admit. Its catchy I know it's someones cup of tea but it ain't mine. Overall, it's not too bad like I love the whole Mediterranean vibe but its just samey to the rest. Rank no.21

PERFORMANCE 16: SERBIA- TEYA DORA- RAMONDA The witchy vibes don't really match the song. I think it's really sweet. It's not super up there but it's a tune and I enjoyed listening to it. Here hair is so lovely as well. It really comes across as a bit of a plea for help but it's a lovely message and I always really enjoy Serbia's input because they're always shockingly good. I would love that dress as well if someone wants to go snag it for me. Rank no.8 

PERFORMANCE 17: FINLAND- WINDOWS95MAN- NO RULES! This is the one I've been waiting to yap about. Bloody hell this one was a ride. I'm gonna start with the fits and staging: it was so random, I am so here for it. The egg was just perfect for the randomness and running about the stage was awesomeeeee. The shorts descending from the heavens and then bursting into flames was a real highlight, so iconic. The guy dressed in all denim was such a vibe as well. I actually feel sorry for him cos the other guy stole the spotlight a bit but that was a true eurovision act. I feel I can always rely on inland to deliver something crazy and they smashed it out the park yet again. Rank no. 6

PERFORMANCE 18: PORTUGAL- IOLANDA-  GRITO The staging gave a beige mom house in the US, the makeup gave Coachella. I really thought it was quite a vibe, maybe a bit dentist office wedding but who cares shes a cracking voice and the dancers went down as 'the beekeepers in my house'. The light was giving Loreen's panini press again but it's not that bad and is a solid mid range one. Rank no.16

PERFORMANCE 19: ARMENIA- LADANIVA- JAKO This one HIT man. It was just a vibe, the like trumpets and the woman's mental ness. The patterns almost sent me into a seizure but it's eurovision, you're gonna have a migrane the next morning. She was so cool in her dress and I just loved it, the band was cool as well and jumping around the stage while singing complicated stuff like that is a talent so kudos to the singer. Rank no.11

PERFORMANCE 20: CYPRUS- SILIA KAPSIS- LIAR Yet another same samey song. It just wasn't giving me enough to get a notable score. This is no criticism to her herself but it just got too repetitive this year. Far too many scantily clad men dancing around young women. Particularly with this one, she's only 17 and she looks so much older and I was just worrying for her and praying that the dutch dude wasn't towards her. Rank no.22

PERFORMANCE 21: SWITZERLAND- NEMO- THE CODE One of my favourites for the evening. They looked like nemo as well it was so adorable. The talent to stay on that pendulum wheel thing is so freaking awesome. They cooked hard. Their vocals are so freaking stunning as well just an incredible, catchy one. The drum beat gave breakcore and it's just an ear-scratcher. It's just such a snazzy song. Rank no. 4

PERFORMANCE 22: SLOVENIA- RAIVEN- VERONIKA What in the water-coated body suit? The fit was questionable and so was the dance moves. Yet another situation where the contestant made out with the dancer. The light up tits and crotch were weird as well. Like highlighting the bits you shouldn't want to show off. Oh welllllll. IT was an interesting song, not particularly special but pretty typical eurovision. The eye makeup was on point also. Rank no.15

PERFORMANCE 23: CROATIA- BABY LASAGNE- RIM TIM TAGI DIM The pirate vibe meets My Chemical Romance were real. One of my favourites of the night. The cat pictures sold it to me heavily. I loved the fit it was such a vibe. I had it goin through my head all night. The meowing absolutely killed me. Such a banger a true sea shanty turned rock is the recipie to please my ears. Rank no.2

PERFORMANCE 24: GEORGIA- NUTSA BUZALADZE- FIREFIGHTER Yet another woman singing warbly surrounded by muscular men in interesting clothing. Her dance moves were extremely strange and probably not appropriate for the kids watching, particularly in that short of a dress. The song wasn't the worst though ( take that back probably one of my least favourites). The dance was just a bit odd. Rank no.20

PERFORMANCE 25: FRANCE- SLIMANE- MON AMOUR It was so boring. Like I was falling asleep. It needed spice. It was giving shit drake that sings falsetto that's too high for him. It was too repetitive, too boring. It didn't appeal to me one bit. Probably my least favourite. Rank no.25

PERFORMANCE 26: AUSTRIA- KALEEN- WE WILL RAVE Now, I'm not usually a fa of this vibe of music but kaleen executed it so freaking perfectly, its a n earworm that I hate but its so funny. Very Europop vibe to it, giving me jamboree vibes yet again. She reminds me of Taylor Swift and her little daughter was so sweet. This has gone down pretty well I think. Rank no.12

Now, I've finished my part and I didn't watch the after bits cos I was too busy falling asleep from slimane. Compared to last year, completely underwhelming but its decent. Some hhits hit, others missed the board completely. Sorry about even worse grammar and spelling than last year but that's all folks, see you in 2025.

[trollprincess]

Oh, it was *ridiculously* bad. That initial post says “from the sea floor,” but that implies it made it out to sea.

So Gustavus Adolphus is king when Sweden is fighting wars all over the place. They need more ships, so he commissions four of them, two big and two small. The Vasa was supposed to be one of the smaller ones. Emphasis on “supposed to be.” Because Gustavus Adolphus keeps ordering changes. Like, add twelve more feet to the keel! Pile on the carvings! Add another gun deck for the hell of it! It got even worse when Sweden lost ten ships in a huge storm, so now they needed the Vasa *yesterday*. But Gustavus Adolphus is STILL demanding changes. So the shipwright scales up the measurements to try and make things work. Which might have worked, except the ship was being worked on by Swedes, Finns, Danes, Sami people. Communication is hard enough, but also it turns out that there are two different types of rulers being used by the workers. One is in Swedish feet and one is in Amsterdam feet. Amsterdam feet were only eleven inches long. (There’s a joke there I’m too tired to make.)

Anyway, because of that, the port side is heavier.

Okay, so you have to imagine the Vasa, with its hastily-scaled-up measurements, its *seven hundred* decorative carvings, its sixty-fucking-four bronze cannons. It’s a goddamn mess, AND its center of gravity is way off. Except that’s not something you could measure with instruments at the time. What you’d do is, you’d put it in the water, then have a bunch of guys run back and forth from port to starboard a bunch of times to test if it’ll tip over.

The guys who did this test could only do it three times before the Vasa was like, “I think I’m gonna hurl,” and almost tipped over right then and there.

Everybody there is like, “… uh-oh.” The admiral conducting the test just sighs and goes, “If only the king were here,” because Gustavus Adolphus wasn’t, and maybe if he had been he would have seen they fucked up and decided to pull the plug. Oh, and those bronze cannons? They weighed down the ship so much that the lowest row of gun portals was almost at the waterline.

But. Sweden needed the Vasa. It needed it to go to war. At that time, it was the most expensive thing Sweden ever spent money on.

SO. It’s August 10th, 1628. It’s the port in Stockholm. There’s music, there’s festivities, everybody’s showed up to see the Vasa off. A few ships tug the Vasa out to the current, let her loose, she drops four of her sails, and off she goes.

For about thirteen hundred meters.

Then, a light breeze blows. When I say light, I mean light. But that was all it took. The Vasa flops to port, water flows into the gun portals, and down it goes, still in the fucking harbor with its masts sticking out of the water.

So when that original post says “recovered from the sea floor,” it means brought up from the *actual harbor*. Like, within sight of the docks.

Oh, oh! But cool story about all this. Remember those sixty-four bronze cannons? Yeah, Sweden kind of needed those back, so about three decades later in 1658, the Swedes go down and retrieve almost all of them with a diving bell. Which is kind of badass.

The Swedish warship Vasa. It sank in 1628 less than a mile into its maiden voyage and was recovered from the sea floor after 333 years almost completely intact. Now housed at the Vasa Museum in Stockholm, is the world's best preserved 17th century ship

Tap for more

[randomvarious]

Today’s compilation:

Just the Best 4/2000 2000 Pop / Eurodance / House / Europop / Pop-Rap / R&B / Alternative Rock / Downtempo / Hard Rock / Indie Rock / Pop-Punk / Trance / Progressive Trance / Latin / Novelty / UK Garage / Britpop

God, do I really love going through these Now That's What I Call Music-type comps from Europe. Late 90s/early 2000s releases like these always make for such fun, eclectic trips down memory lane, but from the perspective of a different region of the world. Our top 40 charts in America share a lot in common with other places, and that leads to a nice nostalgia rush for everyone involved, but there's also a lot of music we don't share in common at all. So the goal when listening to these ephemeral things is to get some of that good nostalgia, discover a few sweet tracks that you weren’t previously familiar with, and then hopefully find something so patently absurd and terrible that you can't help but smile at how ridiculous it is. And fortunately, I was able to tick all three of those boxes with this 26th dispatch from Germany's Just the Best series, although those latter two categories ended up being fulfilled to a much lesser extent.

So, first, the nostalgia: those Swedish-produced teen pop acts like Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, and 'N SYNC lead the way. There was a time in my life when I loved those songs, then a time in my life when I hated them, and now I'm back to loving them again, and not even really from a nostalgic standpoint. The production on so many of those tunes is actually genuinely fantastic; just so lush and so intricate. Go back and listen to them if you still need convincing. Max Martin and his Swedish disciples were spinning pop gold back then, and many of us turned up our noses at it, but I've been a total convert for a while now, so join me, won't you?

More nostalgia: America slept super hard on Craig David. "Fill Me In" is his most remembered song, and I don't even think it's really all *that* remembered. And even more forgotten was "7 Days." It was a top-ten hit on Billboard's Hot 100, but I feel like most Americans aren't even aware that it exists. This British dude could've been our R&B king and it's kind of inexplicable to me that he wasn't. Amazing voice and great, unique productions.

Also, did you know that catchy song "Around the World (La La La La La)" by German group ATC is an English-language ripoff cover of a Russian Eurodance song from 1998 called "Pesenka" by Ruki Vverh!? Now you do!

Plus, we've also got "Jumpin', Jumpin'" by Destiny's Child on here, "Porcelain" by Moby—possibly the greatest single off of an amazing album that was chock full of pretty much nothing but great singles—and the post-Britpop bop, "Dancing in the Moonlight" by Toploader, a song with a very early 2010s kind of vibe that actually came out in '99.

Now for the sweet tunes I'd never heard before as well as the so-bad-it's-good stuff. First is this song that kind of sits between both categories: an irresistible cotton candy fluff of Euro-cheer from Austria's Marque called "Electronic Lady" that blends 80s new wave/synthpop and Euro-disco vibes and kind of sounds like if Robbie Williams was channeling some kind of ABBA phase, but with an extra coating of sugar (🎶Just press "Yes" and I'll be on your screeeeeeeeen!🎶). And then there's this piece of Eurodance trash by this German guy called Kosmonova, who lays these big indigenous flute melodies over a pumping Euro-backbeat. A solid dose of purely bad and silly fun with that one.

Always an enjoyable ride with these compilations. Was hoping for a little bit more of that mindless Eurotrash absurdity, but there's still a good nostalgia rush to be had here anyway. Plus that Marque song is a total fucking pop music bop!

Highlights:

CD1:

Britney Spears - "Lucky" ATC - "Around the World (La La La La La)" Craig David - "7 Days" Christina Aguilera - "Come on Over Baby (All I Want Is You)" Marque - "Electronic Lady" 'N SYNC - "It's Gonna Be Me" Moby - "Porcelain" Toploader - "Dancing in the Moonlight"

CD2:

Kosmonova - "Discover the World" DJ Ötzi - "Hey Baby" Destiny's Child - "Jumpin', Jumpin'"

[themousefromfantasyland]

The Creatures of Yuletide: The Yule Goat

In case you were left wondering, Christmas is mostly pagan. A lot of modern-day traditions have roots in ancient pagan times, mostly from the Germanic and Scandinavian winter solstice celebrations. Santa is secretly Odin, the Yule Father. The Christmas Ghosts of Charles Dickens are inspired by the legends of ghosts that came to our world during the Winter Solstice. Today let’s talk about a tradition that I believe to be the most shameless and more ridiculously obvious inheritance from the pagan celebrations. Meet the goat brother of Santa Claus, the Yule Goat.

Spoiler: People used to dress as goats and went trick or treating during Christmas time. And in some places they still do. I’m not making this up 🤣

The Yule Goat is one most ancient symbols of the season. He is a figure that appears in holiday traditions across Scandinavia and Northern Europe. There, and in Sweden, Norway, and Finland, the Yule Goat is as much a part of Christmas tradition as Santa, Rudolph, or Frosty the Snowman.

The Yule Goats are wooden or straw figures that neighbors would hide in each other’s houses, meant to be passed on to another household when found. Now, it is most seen as a Christmas ornament, often made of straw with braided horns and a red ribbon around its neck. Yule Goat’s straw figures are usually placed under the Christmas tree.

In Swedish lore, the Yule Goat was said to be a spiritual being that dwelled in the house during Christmas, overlooking the preparations and celebrations. He would also be accompanying the Jultomte or Tomte, domestic spirits of the holiday season that became analogue to the American Santa. These gnomelike, goat-riding Christmas elves called tomten (Sweden), nissen (Norway), and tonttu (Finland), would deliver gifts to children on Christmas Eve. With time, they would end up stealing the spotlight from the goat.

I need to share this very weird and funny tradition regarding the goat. Since 1966 a Swedish town called Gävle [say: yeah-vleh] places a giant Yule Goat statue in the town square, and every year someone tries to burn it down. It seems that people now wait, and even bet, if the goat will make it to Christmas. In the past 50 years, the Gävle Yule Goat has been destroyed 35 times. Please look up, it’s very bizarre.

So, continuing, the History of the Yule Goat goes far. Since the 11th century there had been numerous traditions of goat figures and of men in full-size goat costumes during the Christmas celebrations. During the 17th century, in Sweden, it was costume that during Christmas or the Epiphany (The Three King’s Day), young men in costumes would walk between houses singing songs, enacting plays, and performing pranks. The Yule Goat would often appear in these pranks, usually as a scary figure demanding gifts. During the 19th century, men would often dress as goats to give gifts to their families.

So, where does the Yule Goat come from? The answer is mostly obvious by now.

The most popular theory, and my favorite, is that the Yule Goat is a worship of Thor, or rather, of Thor’s goats. In Norse mythology, Thor’s carriage was pulled by two goats, Tanngrisnir, “Gap-tooth”, and Tanngnjóstr, “Tooth-grinder”. Many times, Thor would slaughter both to eat, knowing they returned to life in the following morning.

In Sweden, part of the midwinter celebrations was the Yule Sacrifice. A man would dress in goatskins, carrying a goat-head effigy portraying one of Thor’s goats. He was symbolically killed but returned to life exactly as the sun does at Yule day.

From this came the Norwegian tradition of “Julebukking” or more correctly, “to go julebukk” (Gå julebukk). One man or many men from the community would dress a goat mask and fur cape to represent the ghosts of winter night. After that, they would go “trick or treating” from door-to-door receiving gifts from the towns folk to thank them for protection and keeping the winter ghosts at bay (in my last post I talked about this, it was believe that ghosts could come back to our world during the Winter Solstice and Winter times).

Christian missionaries modified the tradition and divorced its meaning from Paganism. Early Christian fathers proclaimed the Yule Goat as a demon. That’s why in the 17th century he was threatening figure. In Swedish records from this time, the Yule Goat is described as a dark and scary demonic figure that roamed the countryside on the night of December 25, demanding food and frightening devout Christians.

However eventually, the Yule goat became a benevolent being again, and children started to walk from house-to-house “trick or treating”, singing carols at the doorsteps of friends and neighbors. They wore costumes, particularly masks to hide their identity, and often gave gifts as well as receiving them.

It' actually uncanny how Christmas and Halloween were alike in the past.

Resuming everything, the church tried to demonize the Yule Goat, but it didn’t work out and after the 19th century the goat became a gift-giver like Saint Nicholas in the Scandinavian world, until he started been replaced by the Nisse or Tomte later.

I believe that the tradition of Julebukking is still alive. Even thought is dying in Europe, immigrants from rural communities from Scandinavian descend still keep it alive, in areas like Petersburg and Ketchikan in Alaska.

Just to finish, all I want to say is that if this post ever found someone of Swedish or Norwegian background, or just someone who knows the traditions of the Yule Goat and Julebukking better than me, feel free to correct me if I got something wrong. I'm fascinated by these Scandinavian Christmas traditions, and I wanted a first-hand account of them to help me understand them better.

[gallavictorious]

Gallavich Week Day 2: Fantasy AU

Summary: Prince Ian is offered up as a sacrifice to appease one of the dragons that haunt his father’s kingdom. Rather than being burned alive or eaten he is inexplicably left to wander the dragon’s lair in peace, as long as he never tries to leave and never enters the mysterious tower chamber. Then he meets fellow prisoner Mikhailo and starts to wonder if maybe this whole sacrificial gig isn’t such a bad deal after all.

Or, Ian Gallagher tells a bedtime story, and Mickey Milkovich is himself.

Fair Warning 1: There’s some Mickey-typical homophobic language in this one.

Fair Warning 2: I wrote all ridiculous 5K of this today (work? what work?) and it’s a little bit of a curious mess. Like, the sort of curious mess you get if you take Lip’s Hall of Shame, @gardenerian’s lovely bedtime stories, the novel “Dealing with Dragons” by Patricia Wrede, the Swedish picture book “Bröllop i Marsipanien” by Lena Karlin, the Greek myth of Andromeda, a bunch of folk tales about shapeshifting lovers, and the questionable old practice of MSTing fics, and then you stuff them all into a Kee and shake her around for a bit and then you pour it out into the shape of a 12 hour long and highly inadvisable speedwriting session.

Read it at your own risk, below or on AO3.

Very Important Note: I make fun of fic writing in this fic. Please note that I’m only making fun of myself and general tropes; any and all allusions to actual fic in the fandom is entirely coincidental.

---

Lest They Say, Here Be Dragons

Hush now, child; settle down. Close your eyes – yes, just like that – and listen:

Once upon a time and elsewhere, there was a kingdom. The people there were no happier than people anywhere else, and poorer than most, but they made do and lived and danced and grieved and died as people have always done.

Jesus, that’s gay.

That is, until the dragons came.

Okay, now you’re talking.

Like a plague they swept the land, winged beasts with fire for breath and ice in their hearts. Every night the fields burned, and the villages burned, and the cattle burned and was eaten. Many a brave people took up arms and went to confront the monsters, and then they burned too.

Heart-broken and terrified, the people went to the king to plead for aid. “Send an emissary to the dragons,” they said. “Reason with them and strike a bargain, or else we are sure to perish.”

What a bunch of pussies. What they should do is, they should use a bunch a cow shit to build a bomb and nuke the hell out of those dragons. Problem fucking solved.

Now, this king was a scoundrel and a drunk and the queen had an unfortunate habit of turning herself into a bird and flying off to more interesting lands whenever the mood took her. They had six children but rarely paid them any mind and fair Princess Fiona, eldest of the six, was left to raise her younger siblings as best she could. False King Francis would have been perfectly content to turn his desperate subjects away if it weren’t for the fact the dragons unchecked rampage threatened the production of the spirits the king so enjoyed. So, donning a mask of compassionate concern, for he was a skilled liar, he promised the people that he would help them. But as soon as they had left, comforted, he turned the task over to his children.

The second oldest child, foxy Prince Philip—

Foxy Prince Philip?

Yeah, you know. Foxy. Like clever.

Why not just say clever then?

‘Cause it’s not alliterative.

Alliter—

Starts with the same sound. Foxy – Philip. Fair – Fiona.

Oh, I get it. Like, Ian – idiot. Ow!

Foxy Prince Philip was known far and wide for being the cleverest in all the land, and by using all his cunning he managed to strike a deal with the leader of the dragons.

“By using all his cunning.” Skimming over the details a bit there, huh?

You really want me to turn this into a Prince Philip story? Hear me go on and on about what a genius he is?

…

Yeah, that’s what I thought.

It was agreed that the dragons would spread out over the kingdom, each one building their own place to live near a village, and that the villagers would bring them food and drink. In turn, the dragons would refrain from casual pyromancy and protect the villagers from harm.

Protection racket, huh. Classic. Starting to like these dragons, man.

In addition, the cruel leader of the dragons demanded that each dragon be offered a child of the land in sacrifice. No matter how Prince Philip bargained he could not change the dragon’s cold heart on this—

Guess he wasn’t so clever after all.

—and so, with heavy hearts and much lamenting, each village drew lots to determine which poor child would be sent as an offering to their new resident dragon. However, in the village nearest to the castle the people grew angry when the beloved blacksmith’s only child, a small girl of just four, was selected, and they went to the king and they said:

“It isn’t fair that some people are asked to give up their only child to appease the dragons while you, who have six children, are exempt from the lottery.”

King Francis, fearing an uprising as much as he feared the dragons (since each was as likely as the other to leave him without a drink), quickly nodded.

“That’s true,” he said. “And fairness must ever be the true monarchs first and most important concern. Though it breaks my heart, I can’t in good conscience watch my people sacrifice their own children without offering up my own. You may take Prince Ian and give him to the dragon.”

At this, the other princes and princesses raised their voices in furious protest, for they loved their brother even if their father did not. But industrious Prince Ian—

Industrious? That really the best you can come up with?

—stepped forward and declared that he’d be happy to give up his life, so that the child of the blacksmith might be spared. And so, as the sunt set, he was taken away to the lair of the dragon that had made its home near the castle.

So let me get this straight… The king is happy to toss Prince Ian to the wolves ‘cause he hates him, and his siblings are all sad and shit but they still let him go off to get fucking eaten by dragons?

Yes.

Uh-huh.

What?

…

Oh, fuck you. It’s just a story.

Totally.

Stepping into the lair, with heart a-hammering but on stubbornly steady legs, Prince Ian set eyes upon the beast that was to be his destiny. He was momentarily relieved to see it was not the terrible leader of the dragons, as he had feared, but a smaller monster he did not recognize. Black was its hide, its eyes a cold sparkling blue—

Gallagher, I swear to god, if you turn me into some lame ass henchman dragon—

Keep interrupting, asshole, and it’ll be a pink fucking unicorn. And hang on, you’ll show up in a little bit.

Setting his jaw, Prince Ian prepared to die a heroic death—

‘Course he did, the stupid motherfucker. Hey, if Prince Philip was so fucking smart, and if he gave a shit about his brother, shouldn’t he have given him, I dunno, a knife or something?

Prince Ian prepared to die a heroic death, because unlike some other people he was not a selfish prick and he actually cared about the people of the kingdom, but much to his surprise the dragon did not burn him. Instead, it just stared at him for a good long while, until suddenly it declared:

“You must never leave the lair, and you must never set foot inside the tower chamber. Abide by these rules and you may live. Break these rules and I’ll rip your heart out and eat it while you watch, and then I’ll burn the castle down with your beloved siblings inside.”   

You tell him, dragon.

With that the dragon took flight and disappeared, leaving Prince Ian to stand alone in the great hall of the lair, confused but alive. The young prince remained where he was for a few minutes, thinking that the dragon might come back, but when it did not he set out to explore his new home. It was big, with endless rooms and nooks and crannies, but it was badly kept, with strange bits and pieces cluttering up the hallways and chambers. Prince Ian found some old blankets and he used those to set up a pallet in one of the nicer rooms, one that had a view over a small, overgrown garden. And then, because it was very late and he was not dead, he went to sleep.

The next day he continued his explorations and managed to find the kitchen. It was full with the meat that the villagers brought the dragon once a month, and remembering that the beast had only forbidden him from leaving the lair and going into the tower chamber, Prince Ian helped himself to a piece of pork that he cooked over a small fire.

Hang on, was there a fridge in the kitchen?

No. This was the olden days.

But the villagers came once a month with the meat? How did the dragon keep from rotting?

That’s not really—

Was it dried? Like a Slim Jim?

… sure. It was dried.

As he was eating, Prince Ian heard a sudden scraping noise behind him.

The hell did he cook it over a fire for then, if it was dried?

He looked up and spied another young man standing in the doorway.

I’m just saying, it doesn’t make any fucking sense, man. Wait, is this me?

Prince Ian frowned. “Who are you?” he asked. “Are you a prisoner of the dragon too?”

The boy shrugged. “Uh, yeah. I guess. I mean, I do some work around here. Clean up and shit, in exchange for not getting eaten. Name’s Mikhailo.”

About fucking time. Only, how is it fair that you get to be prince and I’m a fucking cleaner?

Prince Ian tactfully did not mention how the lair was impressively dirty for a place with a fulltime cleaner but invited Mikhailo to share his meal. As they ate, Prince Ian studied his new acquaintance. He was the same age as but shorter than the prince, with skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood, and hair as black as ebony.

Hair as black as— The hell was that?

Nothing.

Yeah, okay, then why are you smiling? Eh, fuck you. Prince Ian’s fucking thirsty for Mikhailo, I get it.

Though his manner was somewhat brusque and uncouth, Prince Ian could not help but feel himself drawn to Mikhailo. The boy was funny and easy to talk to, even if he seemed reluctant to say too much about himself or where he came from. Prince Ian tried asking him about the dragon, but despite apparently having lived there ever since the dragon moved in, Mikhailo couldn’t tell him much.

“Hardly ever even see it, man. At dusk and dawn mostly, so I guess it spends the night flying around with the other dragons, terrorizing the peasants or whatever. During the day it holes up in the tower chamber. Guess dragons must sleep too, huh? Don’t fucking go up there,” he added sternly. “It ain’t fucking kidding about killing you if you do.”

Having found a friend, Prince Ian found that life at the dragon’s lair wasn’t all that bad. He missed his siblings and being outdoors and practicing with the soldiers at the castle, and he resented the loss of his freedom, but he enjoyed the peace and quiet, and enjoyed spending time with Mikhailo. However, one thing he soon grew very tired of was eating nothing but meat. The dragon didn’t seem to require anything else, for it was the only thing the villagers ever delivered, and Mikhailo – whose tasks included receiving the monthly tribute – just gave Prince Ian a weird look when Ian suggested he ask the people to bring some vegetables next month.

“That ain’t the deal they’ve got with the dragon,” he told Ian. “Ain’t nobody gonna listen to me if I go trying to change it.”

Yeah, real Prince Charming there, wanting Mikhailo to risk his life so Ian can stuff his face with fucking cucumber.

Undeterred by Mikhailo’s lack of enthusiasm and courage—

Fuck you.

—Prince Ian decided to take it up with the dragon himself. In the weeks since he arrived at the lair, he hadn’t met the creature again, not even once; he’d just heard the powerful swoosh of its wings when it came and went at dusk and dawn. Now he went up the stairs to the tower chamber and there he waited until night had fallen and he noted the scraping of claws against stone inside the room. Then he knocked at the door.

There was a long silence. Then the door slammed open with enough force to nearly undo it from its hinges.

“What are you doing here?!” the dragon roared, terrible in its fury. “I’ve told you to never come here!”

“You’ve told me to never set foot inside the room,” Ian reasoned, fighting to keep his voice calm. “And I’m not. I just wanted to ask if I may have the use of the small garden just outside the lair. I miss being outdoors and I could grow vegetables for Mikhailo and me.”

Jesus Christ, man, again with gardening? Thought you were over it.

“You may never leave the lair,” the dragon, a garden-hating meanie, snarled, and then he closed the door in Prince Ian’s face.

As he fucking should.

“Probably worried one of the villagers will spot you and, I dunno, mount a rescue,” Mikhailo said shortly the next morning when Prince Ian told him of his failed attempt. “Anyway, you’re a fucking idiot for going up there like that. You get it won’t hesitate to kill you, right?”

“Right,” Ian agreed. “But,” he added with a frown, “why hasn’t it yet?”

“You fucking complaining?” Mikhailo snapped, and then he stalked away, and Ian didn’t see him again for three days.

Listen, you get that I get that Mikhailo is the dragon, right? You’re not fooling anyone, Gallagher.

Then, one day, fed up with the dragon being a really annoying prick, Prince Ian grabbed a huge sword he conveniently found lying around in a cupboard, because the lair was a fucking pigsty, suitable for a pig like the dragon, and he went up the stairs and kicked in the door and he cut the dragon’s throat while it slept, and then he went off and found himself a nice prince to marry.

…

…

That’s not how the story ends.

…

Hey, where are you going? Come back- Jesus, I’m sorry, okay? Gallagher, I’m sorry. Just come back here. Tell me what really happened.

Prince Ian woke with a start on his pallet in the lair. He’d had the most vivid dream about killing the dragon—

A dream? That’s the lamest fucking— Ah, fuck. Sorry.

—but for some reason it hadn’t felt as satisfying as he had thought it would. For all that Prince Ian often fantasized about strangling the beast, it seemed he didn’t actually wish to see it dead. With that disconcerting realization in mind, Prince Ian went to break his fast, resigned to doing so on meat and yet more meat. But in the kitchen he found Mikhailo, and on the table in front of him was a pile of cabbage and carrots and onions. 

“Guess the dragon must have talked to the villagers after all,” Mikhailo muttered, refusing to look at the prince. “And, uh, there was this thing I wanted to show you.”

Without waiting for a response, he spun around on his heel and walked out the door. Curious, Prince Ian followed, through doors and up and down stairs he never knew existed. Eventually, he found himself standing in what appeared to be an inner courtyard. It was small and the walls surrounding it very high, but up above the sky was blue. Prince Ian turned his face towards it and for the first time since he came to live at the dragon’s lair he felt sunlight on his face.

“It’s a shithole,” Mikhailo said. For some reason he sounded a little nervous. “But if you wanna go outside, you can come here. And there’s dirt in those bins, so I guess you could grow stuff in them? Just gotta wear this hat. Anyone sees you, they’ll just think it’s me.”

Privately, Prince Ian wondered who’d ever be able to see him behind walls that high, but he wasn’t going to argue. Wearing an ugly had was a small price to pay for being able to go outside, and to have a garden.

He gave Mikhailo a small smile; Mikhailo smiled back.

“Mikhailo smiled back.” Yeah, you bet he was laughing his ass off, ‘cause he thought Prince Ian was a huge fucking dork.

Things were good for a long while after that. Prince Ian spent his days in the garden and in Mikhailo’s company, and though he still resented being locked away from the world it was easy to ignore that when he had something to do and when his plants started to grow and when he was with Mikhailo. The two young men became closer and closer with each passing week, and soon it seemed to Prince Ian as if they had always known each other. He could no longer imagine a life without his friend.

He suspected that Mikhailo felt the same. It was there in the way he laughed at Prince Ian’s jokes; the way he sought him out to do nothing but talk; the way his gaze sometimes lingered on the prince, the look in his eyes unreadable.

Prince Ian suspected that Mikhailo too wondered what it would be like to press their lips together and hold each other tight. Sleep together; map every inch of each other’s bodies.

Hang on a minute, you’re telling me they haven’t fucked yet? The hell they’ve been doing?

I told you. Hanging out. Talking. Laughing.

Jesus Christ, that’s so fucking gay.

Two men not fucking each other is gay? Yeah, that makes a lot of sense. One day we really need to talk about all your internalized homophobia.

My interna-what? Ah, shut the fuck up. Continue with the story. All these interruptions ain’t doing much for the flow, you know.

Really? I hadn’t noticed.

Prince Ian became determined to find out if Mikhailo felt the same way as he did. He realized that he needed to be careful, however, and not push too hard, lest he spook the other boy. Even though he was almost sure he could see longing in Mikhailo’s eyes, there seemed to be some invisible hand holding him back. Every time Prince Ian was convinced they were finally getting somewhere, Mikhailo would suddenly pull back, as if stung.

Or as if remembering something. Himself, maybe.

Bu then came a cold, clear autumn day almost exactly one year after Prince Ian had been taken to the dragon’s lair.

Whoa, wait, now you’re telling me they’ve been hanging out for one fucking year and they still haven’t banged?

What can I say? Mikhailo’s a pussy.

Whatever. This story is unrealistic as fuck.

Prince Ian and Mikhailo had spent the afternoon together in the garden, as they almost always did whenever Mikhailo wasn’t busy with any of his mysterious chores (which he still refused to tell Prince Ian much about, but which sometimes took him away from the lair for days at a time). Once it started getting dark they went inside and dined on chicken and potatoes from Prince Ian’s patch, and as so often happened they started bickering and play fighting.

If that’s something that happens a lot you might have mentioned it earlier. Established it or whatever. Those mysterious chores too. What’s that all about?

Oh, my bad. Maybe I should start over? Once upon and time—

Nah, man, you’re good. Just a suggestion for next time.

Thank you.

You’re welcome.

They were chasing each other around the kitchen when Mikhailo tripped over the muddy shoes he’d lazily left there the night before and fell to the floor.

You know these meaningful little comments ain’t actually clever, right? They don’t actually add anything to the story.

I like them.

Prince Ian, ever chivalrous, grabbed hold of his friend’s arm to break his fall, but ended up going down with him instead, pinning Mikhailo to the floor with his big, strong body.

Fucking finally.

Their eyes met and Prince Ian felt his heart starting to beat faster. He could see a faint blush spreading over Mikhailo’s face. Neither of them spoke; neither of them moved. Then, slowly, slowly, Prince Ian leaned in to brush his lips over Mikhailo’s. Mikhailo lifted his head to meet him in a kiss to end all other kisses, a kiss to inspire a thousand love songs.

Uh-huh, and then…

And then they went to Prince Ian’s room and had sex all night long. But when Prince Ian woke the next morning—

Wait, wait, what? That’s it? “They had sex all night long.” How about some fucking detail, man?

Fine.

After having great sex using lots of good lube all night long, Prince Ian woke up alone in his bed.

I hate you.

He went in search of Mikhailo but couldn’t find his friend anywhere. He looked in the garden and in the kitchen and he went to the sad little cellar chamber Mikhailo called his room even though Prince Ian had never actually seen him sleep there.

Because he’s the dragon and sleeps in the tower chamber. Great hint, Gallagher. Real subtle.

Fuck off.

A week passed and Prince Ian was starting to suspect that Mikhailo was gone for good this time. Perhaps the dragon had found out about their tryst and had sent him away? Or maybe Mikhailo was disgusted with what had happened and wanted nothing more to do with the prince? Prince Ian wondered and worried and feared, and when finally Mikhailo returned, stepping into the kitchen like nothing had happened, Prince Ian was so exhausted with terror and regret that his relief immediately transformed into fury.

He yelled at Mikhailo, called him names and demanded to know where he’d been. He named him a coward and—

…

Hey, what’s the matter? You okay?

Yeah. Yeah, man, I’m fine.

You don’t look— Listen, Prince Ian’s just being an asshole, okay? He saying a bunch of stupid shit ‘cause he’s sick and tired of not knowing if he means as much to Mikhailo as Mickhailo means to him. He doesn’t mean it.

…

Mick?

I mean… He probably means it a little. He’s not wrong.

No, he’s— Fine. He means it a little right then. But he is wrong, okay? He doesn’t really understand what’s going on with Mikhailo, but he’ll get it later. He’ll know he wasn’t being really fair.

… yeah?

Yeah. Okay?

Okay.

Great. Maybe we should speed this bit up a little—

Once Prince Ian had finished shouting, Mikhailo just stared at him for a long moment.

“You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about,” he spat, and then he spun around and disappeared through the door.

Prince Ian was immediately overcome with regret, yet he was still too angry and hurt and stubborn to run after the other. He went about his day in a very foul mood and when he went to bed that night Mikhailo was still gone. Prince Ian slept fitfully and in the middle of the night he woke to a loud crash, soon followed by several more. He realized it must have come form the tower chamber and after a moment of hesitation he grabbed his nightgown and rushed up the stairs.

So, he brought a nightgown with him when he thought the dragon was going to kill him?

Of course not. He found it in one of the rooms.

Yeah, okay, but why are there so many rooms in this fucking lair anyway? What’s with all the old stuff there? Didn’t the dragon build the place to live in like right before Prince Ian was sent there?

Mickey. It’s getting late and I’d really love to wrap this up and go to bed. It doesn’t really matter about the rooms. Can I just continue with the story?

Whatever, man. Just thought you should know there’s a bunch of plot holes in your little fairy tale.

 Once he reached the door to the forbidden room, the crashing noises had stopped. Instead, Prince Ian heard whimpers and moaning, as if from someone in great pain. It could only be the dragon – something must be wrong with it.

Yeah, ya think, Sherlock?

Prince Ian knocked on the door. There was no reply, other than more whimpers and moans. Steeling himself, he tried the handle. The door was unlocked.

That’s awfully convenient.

Stepping inside, Prince Ian found the dragon on the floor. It was clearly hurt, for there was dark blood pooling underneath it. As Prince Ian entered, the great beast lifted its head but said nothing and made no move to attack him. It seemed it was too badly hurt to pose any threat.

It occurred to Prince Ian that he could kill the dragon. He could go down to the kitchen and fetch the biggest knife there and then he’d be free and he could go back to the castle and his siblings and—

The dragon made a low, pained sound and let its head fall back to the floor, closing its eyes.

Prince Ian went down the stairs, but he didn’t fetch a knife, he fetched bandages instead. Though part of him cursed himself for a fool, he knew he couldn’t bring himself to kill the dragon, monster or not, and couldn’t bring himself to let it bleed to death either.

That’s a huge fucking mistake. Maybe the dragon never hurt him but it still kept him imprisoned. Prince Ian should be getting the hell out of there when he has the chance.

Hmm, yeah. Choosing to be locked up just to be the person you love does sound like a pretty insane thing to do.

Oh, fuck off. That’s totally different.

Sure, Mick.

By the time Prince Ian returned to the tower the dragon had lost consciousness. The prince set to cleaning and bandaging his wounds, having learned the art of it while training with a medical witch who lived at the castle. It took a great long while; the dragon was large and heavy and the cuts in its side long, if shallow. But Prince Ian was nothing if not determined and eventually he had the beast wrapped up.

As Ian moved to rise, the dragon stirred.

“The hell are you doing?” it muttered, blinking up at Ian. Then it spotted the bandages, and the ice blue eyes widened. “What the— Are you fucking insane? This is a... is a… real bad fucking idea… ”

It sounded… strange, and not just from the pain and blood loss, Prince Ian thought. Sounded not just slurred but softer somehow, in spite of the uncharacteristic cursing; sounded almost familiar; sounded like—

“Mikhailo,” Prince Ian whispered.

Ooooh, big surprise! I’m so shocked right now!

You know there are other uses for plot twists than to shock the reader, right? Or actually, I guess you don’t know, but if you picked up a book once in a while—

Yeah, yeah, whatever. What happened after this great and totally unexpected reveal?

The dragon lost consciousness again so Prince Ian went to bed and slept soundly and when he woke the next day he spotted Mikhailo leaning against the wall of his room, looking tired ad unhappy. He was even paler than usually and there was a stiffness to his posture that suggested quite a bit of pain, but other than that he seemed well enough.

“So,” Prince Ian said, trying for casualness as he sat up on his pallet. “You’re a dragon.”

Mikhailo shrugged. “Seems like it.”

“But only by night.”

“Yeah… We turn when the sun sets, and turn back again when it rises.”

“I didn’t know that about dragons.”

“No one around here fucking does. People realize how helpless we are during the day, they’d kill us in a heartbeat. My dad says— “

“Your dad?”

“The leader of the dragons. The really big, white one? This whole terror and extortion thing was his idea, once he realized that no one in this kingdom has a clue about dragons.”

“Oh.”

“He hates humans. Thinks they’re useless and weak. If he knew I kept you around instead of killing you, he’d have murdered us both.”

Jesus fucking Christ, laying it on a bit thick with the metaphysical shit there, don’t ya think?

You mean metaphorical?

I mean it’s fucking stupid, that’s what I mean.

Might be closer to allegory anyway.

Uh-huh. Nobody fucking cares, Shakespeare.

“So, anyway,” Mikhailo continued, “you should probably try to go as far away from here as possible. Find a ship and go across the sea or something.”

Prince Ian blinked. “What?”

“Yeah, man, you won’t be able to go back to your castle. No way to stay hidden there. I know this guy up in Dikno, he might—”

He fell silent as Prince Ian jumped up from the bed and crossed the space between them in two long strides, and then he gasped loudly as the prince’s lips found his.

It was another one to inspire love songs.

“You idiot,” Prince Ian said fondly when eventually they broke apart. “Of course I’m not going anywhere. Unless,” he added, suddenly shy, “you want me to.”

Mikhailo made a face. “No, you fucking moron, I don’t want you to go,” he finally said. “But my dad—”

“We’ll find a way to deal with him. We’ll figure out how to sort it out and set things right between humans and dragons. We’ll find a way, together. Okay?”

And Mikhailo the dragon looked at his prince for a long moment and then he smiled. “Okay.”

At his prince, huh. Surprised you got room for all those big words in your head when your ego’s taking up so much space. All right, then what happened?

They organized a rebellion against the leader of the dragons, I guess. I don’t really know. That’s another story.

What do you mean, another story? Is this it? You spend all that time setting it up but when you get to the good part with the fighting you just stop?

Yeah, it’s getting really late. Kid’s asleep anyway.

Kid’s been out cold since, like, before the dragons even showed up, man, don’t fucking pretend this story was for her. … you really not gonna continue?

Nah, I’ll continue. But for the next scene I figured we might try a little show, don’t tell…

Oh, really? What’s the next scene?

Make-up sex. Prince Ian fucking Mikhailo’s brains out. And hey, spoiler alert: Mikhailo comes four times.

Four times, huh.

Yeah. So… wanna know how it happens?

Okay.

Okay. It starts like this—

---

So, yeah. There we have it. The things we write for Gallavich Week… XD

I am halfway outraged that this is the longest fic I’ve ever written for Gallavich, but I’m rather pleased I managed to write something for this theme! Guess I’ll go to bed both proud and embarrassed and dead tired tonight. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Where I am, we’re half an hour past midnight, but seeing as it’s still Monday somewhere, I have decided that I’m posting on time. Yay me! @gallavichthings

[gluteus-canis-familiaris]

Alexander Skarsgård: ‘I still wake up shivering in the foetal position’

By Kevin EG Perry

October 1, 2016, The Guardian

A few years ago, Alexander Skarsgård turned up at a Hammarby football match in Stockholm noticeably… what’s a polite way of putting this? Worse for wear? “I was shitfaced,” says Skarsgård. “I went up in front of the crowd and started doing this chant. Someone put it on Youtube. I’m very drunk, going: ‘You fucking cunts, listen to me!’ I thought: ‘This is real embarrassing.’”

During the bleak hangover that followed, the 40-year-old Swedish actor thought he might have torpedoed a career that had just seen him get the part of Tarzan in this summer’s blockbuster. In fact it made him an even more perfect fit for the role. “Warner Bros had said they needed someone primal and animalistic,” he says. “So my agent sent them the video, saying: ‘Isn’t this motherfucker primal enough for you?’”

Another one of the half-million people who watched it was John Michael McDonagh, writer-director of The Guard and Calvary, who was on the lookout for a hard-drinking detective for his pitch-black buddy comedy War On Everyone. “He saw the video and went: ‘That’s the guy,’” says Skarsgård. “It got me the job. The moral of the story is: Make a fool of yourself and people will love you. Remember that, kids.”

When we meet around midday in the lobby of the Hotel Normandy during the Deauville American film festival, it seems he’s taken his own lesson to heart. The previous night he was so smashed that he invaded the DJ booth at War On Everyone’s afterparty and proved that while you can take the man out of Sweden… “I played strictly Abba,” he says. “When in doubt, Lay All Your Love On Me. We closed that place down.”

As he concertinas himself into the back of a people carrier for the two-hour drive to Charles de Gaulle airport, sheltering his eyes behind dark shades, it’s somehow reassuring to know that savage hangovers afflict even movie stars who’ve been blessed with the sort of face that led Ben Stiller to cast him in Zoolander so he could ask him: “Did you ever think there’s more to life than being really, really, really ridiculously good-looking?”

Yet he was back with his pecs out this summer for The Legend Of Tarzan, a blockbuster that, like many in 2016, struggled at the box office. He says he was drawn in by the character’s search for a place in the world and impressed by Harry Potter director David Yates’s ability to make a £140m film feel “intimate”. But it was in some ways a change of scale. “I work mostly in independent movies so the scope of Tarzan was definitely different,” Skarsgård says. “I didn’t feel pressured [by the box office demands] though. It wasn’t like: ‘Oh fuck, this is a big movie.’ It was an incredible experience, but it was also nine months of just gym, work and bed. I didn’t have a sip of alcohol. It was robotic.”

Which explains the appeal of War On Everyone, a film in which he both downs and takes shots in every direction. Skarsgård plays Terry, a perma-drunk, Glen Campbell-obsessed, unapologetically corrupt detective partnered with the lightning-witted Bob, played by The Martian’s Michael Peña. It’s the old bad cop/worse cop routine, but laced with fierce cleverness. Where Shane Black’s The Nice Guys were bumbling dunces, McDonagh’s pair trade wisecracks peppered with esoteric references to everyone from Simone de Beauvoir to realist painter Andrew Wyeth.

“It’s so un-PC, it’s so me,” says Skarsgård. “You could tell John didn’t give a fuck about anything, which I found refreshing in a script. I’d read a couple of comedies but nothing that was fun or intelligent enough. When I got this script and it was dark and twisted and weird and completely out there, I was excited.” And besides, he adds, “[John is] a beautiful soul, which helps when you insult everyone.”

He even sees some similarities between his dirty detective and the king of the swingers. “As with Tarzan, there’s dichotomy in the character between being a civilised man and a beast. That’s something we can all relate to. We live in a civilised society, but 12 hours ago we were beasts dancing to Abba.”

The young Skarsgård’s first taste of fame was his own. His appearance at the age of 12 in TV film The Dog That Smiled made him a child star, but he soon found he hated the attention and quit acting. “I was desperate to be normal and blend in,” he says. He saw his chance at a life on the straight-and-narrow by enrolling in the Swedish military at 19, “unheard of” in his family. “That was my way to rebel,” he says.

Afterwards, still in search of himself, he decided to head to university in the UK. But he swerved London to find a more authentic British experience, and enrolled at Leeds Met. “It doesn’t get more British than a northern, working-class town,” he says. “There was a club called the Majestic where they had student nights and it was a pound a pint. We lived in Headingley, near the pubs on the Otley Run. Uni was a bullshit excuse for being there. I was studying British culture. I loved it.”

Deciding at 20 that he may have been a little hasty quitting acting, it was while visiting Stellan in LA that he won his small part in Zoolander – at his first Hollywood audition – but it was a false dawn. It would be another seven years before he got a major role, and he spent the time in between shuttling between theatres and coffee shops. When he was cast in David Simon and Ed Burns’s Iraq miniseries Generation Kill, he spent a month convinced he was about to be sacked. “It was only after four or five weeks I realised they weren’t going to recast,” he says. “Before that all I could think about was how much it would cost them to reshoot the big fight scenes after they fired me.”

Imposter syndrome is a common feeling – although a little hard to believe from a handsome, 6ft 4in movie star. “That shit doesn’t change,” he assures me. “I felt like that on Tarzan. I was on set thinking: ‘When is the director going to come over and say: Dude, you can go home. We’ve got Tarzan here now.’ That was 10 years after Generation Kill.”

Alexander Skarsgård, then: just like the rest of us. Fond of a pub crawl, obnoxious at sporting events, constantly waiting for that tap on the shoulder telling him the jig is up. So life is still pretty much the same when you’re really, really, really ridiculously good-looking?

“I mean, fuck, I still wake up shivering in the foetal position,” he says. “I’m incredibly grateful for the opportunities I get. Getting drunk on someone else’s dime listening to Abba is brilliant, but my life is still shit. I’m still agonising. What the fuck am I doing with my life? Where do I belong? Who gives a fuck? Let me assure you, it doesn’t get any better.”

War On Everyone is in cinemas from Friday

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

One Shot: April Fools (You Can’t Kid A Kiddo)

Intro: It’s April Fools’ Day and Tony is out to play. Avengers, beware!

Warnings: Bad language, very mild smut…no one gets naked but just in case- NSFW, 18+

Pairings: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark 

A/N: Happy April Fool’s Day! To celebrate I’m taking us WAY back into the SSB timeline, this takes place at some point just before the AOU timeline.

Word Count: 6k

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

 Steve’s hands were hot on Katie’s hips, gently gripping her bare skin just above her underwear, the top she was wearing riding up slightly. Her bare thighs were straddling his as he gripped her neck, pulling her down for a searing kiss, grinding up against her, the TV programme they had been watching was long forgotten.

“You know,” Steve pulled back slightly to look at her, one of his hands tangling in the hem of the plaid button down she’d stolen from him to sleep in, as usual, “Captain America doesn’t approve of theft.” “Captain America is an ass hole.” Katie grinned back. “Stevie is my favourite.”

He gave a chuckle and leaned back against the sofa cushions, simply taking in her appearance for a second. “How did I get so lucky?” He asked, reaching up to tuck her long hair behind her ears. She smiled at him, her cheeks slightly flushed.

“What’s brought this on?” Her hands slid up his chest, coming to a stop on his shoulders, fingers gently playing with the collar of his polo shirt.

“Nothing.” He shook his head. “Just seeing you now and then before with that reporter…reminds me about how fierce…” he pressed a kiss to her lips, “and loyal…”another kiss, “and downright sexy you are when you’re angry.”

“He was a dick.” She mumbled, against his lips, her eyes narrowing slightly as she pulled back to look at him, his fingers gently tracing the outside of her thighs. “I mean, it’s not like we haven’t already launched the publicity campaign for the book already.”

“Well its big news.”

“Of course it is, its Harlan Thrombey.” Katie shrugged. “His books are huge!”

“Did you ever get to the bottom of why he’s reached out to SIP to run the next one when he has his own publishing company?” Steve asked and she popped a shoulder in response. “Oh something to do with his Son annoying him and needing to be taught not to take things for granted. I can ask him that in October when I meet him to go over the final edit and discuss the covers and stuff…” She wrinkled her nose as her brow creased into a frown. “But that’s by the by. That ass-hat reporter should have been at the press launch like everyone else, not trying to accost us when we went out for lunch. And what the fuck has whether we’ve set a wedding date got to do with it anyway? Nosey bastard.”

Steve chuckled at her rant and looked at her, his eyes shining. “We haven’t set one though.”

“Yeah well, we’ve kinda had a bit going on.” She pondered. “I mean, there was my extended vacation in Canada…”

“Don’t.” Steve shook his head, swallowing. “It’s not funny. I hate it when you do that.”

Katie chuckled. “I’m sorry, baby.” She leaned over and gave him a soft kiss, he hated it when she made light of her HYDRA ordeal. She pulled away, her hands resting on his shoulders. “Maybe once all this business with the sceptre is sorted we can think about it.” Steve sighed. “It’s certainly taking a little longer than we hoped.”

“Well it’s only the end of March. I’ve always wanted a summer wedding so it’s not…” Katie trailed off and Steve saw her eyes widen and her mouth dropped open as she looked at him. “Oh shit.”

“What is it?” he frowned.

“It’s the 31st March.” She looked at him, swallowing and Steve felt the colour draining from his face.

“Crap.” The reason for their horror was simple. Because, forget Christmas or Thanksgiving, April Fools’ Day was Tony Stark’s favourite time of year, as his long suffering sister could testify. When she was a kid, Tony had done the usual stuff. Flour in her talc, washing up liquid in her shampoo, paper shapes of bugs (never spiders though, he wasn’t that cruel) in lampshades so when she turned the lights on she’d think she had a huge cockroach in there, that type of stuff. But, as she matured, so did the pranks. At one time whilst she had been at the tower for a meeting, JARVIS sent her an alert that someone had slashed her tyres in the carpark. She had sprinted outside to find photos of Slash from ‘Guns and Roses’ struck to the side of her wheels. Another year, Tony had hacked her StarkPhone and Laptop and changed the language to Chinese. Of course she couldn’t read fucking Chinese to change it back. When she found an agent in SHIELD who did and he reversed it for her, within thirty seconds it had flicked over to Russian. And when Natasha fixed that it became Swedish and so on and so on… Steve had also been the butt of a few pranks since he had known Tony. In 2013 he had fallen for the old toothpaste Oreo trick when a box had arrived for him allegedly from the cookie company themselves after Steve had been papped eating a packet. That had nearly made him sick. And then last year there had been the non-stop phone calls asking for Franklin. Every time it was someone different and Steve was getting more and more frustrated as to who exactly Franklin was and why people thought he was on his number. Then, as he and Katie had been on the sofa making out, he’d gotten one last call…

“Leave it…” she urged, her hands on his face turning him back to look at her. He kissed her again, hands sliding up the side of her torso, grinding his crotch down onto hers making her purr with delight as her hands strayed to the buckle of his belt, soft fingers gently skimming his abs as she made to undo it, his tongue tangling ferociously with hers as he gave a soft moan of pleasure… But his phone was going again. Katie sighed as he dropped his head to her chest, mumbling a curse. “Unless that’s a Code Red, you can tell whoever it is to fuck off.” She gave a frustrated growl, her head flopping back against the cushion as Steve reached over and answered it, still led over her. “Rogers.” He spoke sharply. It was another unknown number, but this time it wasn’t an unknown voice that spoke. “Hi this is Frankin!” Tony greeted him and Steve let out a growl of frustration as he realised he had been had. “Have there been,” there was a pause as the inventor laughed, “I’m sorry, have there been any calls for me?” “Tony, I swear to god!” He spat through gritted teeth as the inventor cackled and hung up. “Your brother is a dick.” He looked down at Katie, shaking his head. “Well yeah, I know that.” Katie looked up at her boyfriend. “What did he just do?” “You know those calls I’ve been getting all day, the ones asking for Franklin?” He looked at her and she nodded. “It was him.”

Katie paused and then let out a laugh. “To be fair, that’s a pretty good one.” “I hate him.” Steve mumbled, dropping his head back to her chest.

She chuckled again, and ran her fingers through his hair. “Hey, Stevie, wanna get him back?” “How?” Steve queried, propping himself up on his elbows, looking at her. “Call him,” she grinned, leaning up and nipping at his jaw line softly as he closed his eyes, “leave the phone on the table,” she bucked up under him, wriggling her hips, his trousers feeling uncomfortably tight again, “and let him listen to us make out”

Steve hadn’t done that, because, well frankly the thought of anyone listening to them wasn’t a great turn on in his books, let alone her brother, so Tony had gone another year of getting away with it.

Simply put, Tony was king of the pranks, and this year he had the entire team at the tower to torment. 

“We should warn the others.” Steve looked at Katie, and with a sigh she nodded. She untangled herself from him and straightened the legs on her denim shorts.

“JARVIS?” She asked.

“Yes Miss Stark.” “Where are the rest of the team?”

“Agent Romanoff and Agent Barton are in the Common Room. Thor is in his quarters as is Mr Stark and Dr Banner is in the Lab.”

“I’ll cover Nat, Clint and Banner.” Steve nodded. “You wanna go see Thor?”

Katie nodded. “Sure, I’ll pop down and see him now. Then we should probably go for a look around, see if we can spot if he’s set anything up.” Katie climbed off his lap and Steve straightened his pants slightly before giving her a quick kiss and heading towards the stairs whereas Katie made her towards the hidden elevator, selecting the right floor. Thor and Clint shared one of the highest floors in the tower, both preferring to be higher up, closer to the roof but it was still below theirs. Exiting the elevator, she turned left and knocked on the door.

“Little Stark?” Thor answered and stepped back. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” “It’s not strictly pleasure I’m afraid Thor…” Katie sighed “I’m here with a warning.” “A warning?” he frowned.

“Yeah, you got five minutes? It’s gonna take some explanation.”

***** Tony was giggling to himself as he put the final touches to the last of his pranks, before closing the door to the Lab and heading back to his floor. It was ridiculously early in the morning, but needs must. There was no way he could have set this all up the previous evening because Kiddo and Spangles would most likely have done some kind of recon mission before they went to bed.

So, as the saying goes, the bird catches the worm and all that. Fuck Killian and his second mouse bullshit.

“What have you been doing?” Pepper mumbled to him as he walked back into their dark bedroom.

“Nothing.” He answered, with a grin, leaning down to give her a peck.

“Bullshit.” Pepper mumbled against his lips. “It’s April Fools’ Day…” “Is it?” he said, innocently and she rolled her eyes. “JARVIS?”

“Yes Sir?”

“Hey buddy, I need you to set up an alert for me for today. If anyone goes into my office, or the garage, or anywhere in the tower messing with my equipment, I wanna know about it.”

“Of course Sir.”

Tony grinned as he headed into the bathroom for a shower. “Avengers, assemble!” 

Prank 1.

Steve was the first victim. He and Katie were making their way, cautiously, down to the large meeting room where they were all due to congregate to look over the plans of an abandoned British prison they suspected of being a HYDRA base. They made sure to check round each corner before they walked round it, checking up high, low, everywhere.

But there was no avoiding this prank.

Steve pressed his palm to the Biometric Pad on the meeting room door and the pair of them gave a loud yell and a jump as their ears were assaulted by a sudden chorus.

“Who’s strong and brave here to save the American Way? Who vows to fight like a man for what’s right, night and day?”

“Oh for fucks sake!” Steve groaned as he pulled open the door, the song echoing through the PA system.

“Who will campaign door to door for America? Carry the flag shore to shore for America? From Hoboken to Spokane? The Star Spangled Man with a plan!”

Clint and Natasha were stood, poised at the table, both wearing identical looks of astonishment on their faces. They turned to Katie and Steve as they walked into the room, the song still playing.

“We can’t ignore there’s a threat and a war we must win! Who’ll hang a noose on the goose-stepping goons from Berlin?”

“I’m assuming this means Cap is the first of us to fall victim to Stark?” Clint asked, his lips quirking into a smile.

“Who will indeed lead the call for America? Who’ll rise or fall, give his all, for America?”

“Please tell me it isn’t going to go through a full rendition.” Steve sighed, dropping into a chair.

“Who’s here to prove that we can? The Star Spangled Man with a plan!”

Silence. The four of them waited with bated breath, but thankfully it had stopped.

“Just the first two verses.” Katie flopped down next to him. “Suppose we should be grateful.” “Kiddo, you’re as much of a sneak as Tony.” Clint looked at her, as Thor walked into the room. “How come you’ve never managed to get him back?”

“He’s too smart.” She sighed. “I’ve tried and tried before. It doesn’t help that he has JARVIS either, watch this…JARVIS?”

“Yes Miss Stark?”

“Has my brother got an alert going for you to warn him if we try and prank him?” “I couldn’t possibly comment, Miss Stark, on whether or not your brother has an alert set up to warn him if any of you attempt to tamper with any of his equipment.”

Normally, Katie would chuckle at the AI’s tone but she was too frustrated with her brother and the seeming lack of loopholes in any of his instructions she could exploit. She leaned back in her chair and gave a huff “See?”

“I could just shock him with some lightning?” Thor suggested

“Think that’s a little harsh.” Steve shook his head. 

“See if you still think that by the end of the day when every time you open a door that song starts.” Natasha looked at him.

“What, you think…” Steve looked at her and then gave a groan. “Too much to hope that it would just be the one door isn’t it?”

_____

Tony, watching the events unfold on the display in the safety of his office, cackled. “Of course it isn’t just one door, Spangles!” _______

Prank 2.

Bruce was sincerely hoping that whatever inevitable prank Tony was going to pull on him that the Billionaire had been sensible enough not to shock him so far that the Hulk erupted. Bruce had a pretty good hold on him, so he wasn’t too worried but still, you never know.

The mild mannered scientist made it to his lab in one piece, opened the door and then stopped dead.

In front of him on the floor, for about two metres square were cups of water. And they were positioned that close together it left no space for him to step over in any direction without them spilling all over the floor.

Which meant he couldn’t get into the room.

Had it been anyone else, they would probably have simply kicked the cups over, but not Bruce. He was always paranoid about the liquid seeping through the floors and down onto the machinery which looked after the Iron Legion. 

So if he was going to get into the lab, he was going to have to move them one cup at a time. 

“Damned you, Tony!” He gave a loud, exasperated sigh. “JARVIS? I need a bucket…”

_______

Tony, watching the events unfold on the display in the safety of his office, cackled. “Good luck finding one, Brucey.”

_______

Prank 3.

“I don’t think there’s much else to go on.” Steve sighed as the rest of the team finished looking over the plans “We need to get out there and do a recon really.”

“We prepping for another mission then, Cap?” Clint looked at him. Steve took a deep breath and nodded.

“I don’t think we have an alternative.” 

“Okay, well, if we get everything ready we can go at first light tomorrow.” Natasha suggested “I’ll get Hill onto the British Authorities, let them know we’re planning on coming.” With that an alert sounded on Katie’s phone and she looked down at it. “I gotta go take a conference call but I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Steve nodded to her as she stood up and left the room. She made it to her office, safely and swung the door open, pausing just to make sure nothing fell from the door frame. She darted through, took a look round and everything seemed to be in order.

Suspecting Tony of most likely sabotaging her computer or screen, Katie sat down on her chair and a loud horn sounded causing her to scream. Involuntarily, her entire body jumped, and her chair toppled backwards. She went with it, arms and legs flailing and hit the floor with a crash.

After taking a moment to sort herself out she stood up, and looked at the bottom of her chair. There was an air horn strapped to the main leg which mean as soon as she had sat down, it would push the handle causing it to sound.

“I know you’re watching this you fucker!” She yelled, spinning round to the CCTV camera and flicking it off. “I hate you!”

_____ Tony, watching the events unfold on the display in the safety of his office, cackled. “Feeling horny, Kiddo?”

_______

Prank 4.

Given that there was nothing else to do, Natasha decided to head to the gym, as she did every weekday morning, to practice Pilates. It was a routine she tried not to break as it helped her keep supple and relax. Katie sometimes joined her, and surprisingly so did Steve. He said it helped keep his mind clear. 

She knew that the routine made her an easy target for one of Stark’s pranks, but she was damned if he was going to catch her out. She was one of the world’s best spies, no way was he going to get her with some stupid, childish trick.

She entered the room and glanced up and around, checking the corners, you name it. Satisfied that no one was going to jump out at her, and even if they did, she’d floor them- more fool you, Stark- she leaned up against the bench and stretched her legs out.

“Who’s strong and brave here to save the American Way? Who vows to fight like a man for what’s right, night and day?”

Natasha spun to see Steve shaking his head as he made his way into the room in his gym gear

“You joining me or hitting the bag?” She asked as they both tried to ignore the song as it continued ringing from the speakers.

“Joining you if that’s okay?” he said. “I went for a run this morning so…” “Sure.” She nodded, and as the song finally stopped they made their way to the store cupboards, picking out their mats. Natasha picked her favoured one, and lay it down on the floor.

As soon as she stepped on it there was a loud popping noise, like a gun going off, and she jumped backwards, dropping to the floor by instinct. 

“Nat,” Steve soothed, a smile tugging at his lips. “It’s okay, no one’s shooting.” Angrily, Natasha stood up and stalked over to the mat. With a furious movement, she reached down and pulled it up off the floor and set about examining it.

“Bastard!” She exclaimed, slipping her hand into a small, almost invisible hole on the underside. She pulled out a tiny little firecracker, the type that kids used to throw on the floor in front of someone to make a loud bag. “He’s filled my mat with these!” 

______

Tony, watching the events unfold on the display in the safety of his office cackled. “Even Super Spies get fooled, Romanoff.”

_______

Prank 5 and 6.

Later that day the team met in the common room for lunch. Steve already had a headache from that damned song following him every time he opened a door, Katie was sporting quite a sore elbow after falling harshly on the floor, Bruce was pissed as it had taken him a good hour to get rid of the cups of water, and Natasha was seething at the fact she’d been caught out too.

“I don’t know how you’ve put up with it for your entire life.” Clint said to Katie as he opened the fridge, pulling out a can of his favoured Dr Pepper. He grabbed a glass and then went to the dispenser for some ice, the way he always liked his soda, but nothing happened when he pressed the button.

“What the...” Clint frowned as he opened the freezer compartment and reached into the dispenser tray. After rummaging a little he stopped, and pulled something out before he gave a huge bellow of laughter. He turned, holding up the item and Steve glanced over to see it was a Tupperware tub that was full of ice, in the middle of which was frozen a Captain America action figure. There was a pause before the rest of the team fell about laughing and Steve groaned, shaking his head.

“Why has he picked on me two times?” he looked at Katie who gave a shrug.

“You know what he’s like, annoying you is his favourite pass-time.”

“You wanna go back in the freezer, Cap, or in the sink to deforst?” Clint asked and Steve rolled his eyes.

“I took a long enough nap in the cold, thanks.”

Clint tossed the offending item into the sink and then reached for some ice cubes before he walked over to where the rest of the team were sat on the sofas with various lunch items on the coffee table. He poured the soda into the glass and set it on the table, still chuckling.

“You can stop looking so smug.” Katie turned to him. “He’ll get you eventually, you too Thor, there’s no way he hasn’t set one up for you both.” “I am mighty, Little Stark.” Thor grinned, nursing a plate of his favoured chocolate and sugar covered strawberries he had snaffled from a tray in the fridge. “It will take more than…” “SHIT!” Clint exclaimed, and with a loud yell they all jumped back as the soda in his glass was exploding over the top with such veracity it was showering them all in the sticky drink. As Steve and Natasha headed to grab some paper towels, Katie marched over to the freezer and yanked out the ice dispenser tray.

“He’s put fucking Mentos in the ice cubes!” She groaned with a shake of her head. “Jesus Christ!” “You gotta hand it to him.” Bruce sighed, wiping his glasses off on his shirt. “This is maximum effort.”

“Oh, I’d like to hand it to him,” Katie mumbled, “with my fist closed.” Thor gave a chuckle and popped a strawberry in his mouth, before he gave a grimace, gagged and spat it back out onto the plate.

“That’s-” he stood up, nearly pushing the coffee table over in his attempt to get to the sink. 

Katie watched him as he grabbed a glass of water and filled it from the tap. 

“What…” Natasha looked at Bruce who was examining a piece of the fruit, holding it in front of his nose.

“Salt.” Thor mumbled as he rinsed his mouth out. “It isn’t sugar, its salt. He put salt on my Chocolate Sugar Fruit!”

_____

Tony, watching the events unfold on the display in the safety of his office, cackled. “Ice Ice baby… no need to be so salty.”

_______

*******

“We have to get him back.” Natasha grumbled as they all sat in Katie and Steve’s apartment, having retreated to the relative safety as their living quarters were the one place there was no CCTV, and Katie had the authority to banish JARVIS from earwigging. (Tony had learnt that lesson one day after hearing something he really didn’t want to hear…)

“Believe me I’ve tried.” Katie sighed “And you heard J before, anyone tampers with his equipment and…” She stopped dead. That was it. That was the loophole. With a smirk she looked round the assembled faces. Steve arched an eyebrow at her, he knew that look very well.

“What you thinking?” He asked and she grinned at them all.

“I have an idea…”

They listened attentively, Clint and Natasha sharing a grin as she outlined her plan whilst Thor slapped his thigh with glee. Steve leaned back in his chair and looked at Banner who was also smiling ear to ear.

“That might just work.” Bruce nodded. “It’s a pretty good loophole, and we have the stuff in the lab so…” “I’ll need a distraction.” Katie mused, “something that’s gonna draw Tony out of his office for long enough for me to do it but…” “That’s easy.” Thor nodded. “I’m sure I can cause a good deal of noise in the Training Facility, break a few things with my hammer.”

“Fry something.” Steve looked around. “If you do that then JARVIS won’t be able to fix it remotely, Tony’s gonna have to get his hands dirty.”

“You all know what you’re doing?” Katie grinned as everyone nodded. “Okay, Avengers, let’s do this.“

Operation Payback.

Tony heard the bang seconds before JARVIS spoke

“Mr Stark.”

“What the hell was that?”

“There’s been an incident in the Training Suite.”

“Course there has.” Tony rolled his eyes in exasperation at how stupid they thought he was. He wasn’t falling for a distraction like that. “Where is everyone?” “Miss Stark, Agent Romanoff and Agent Barton are in the shooting range.” JARVIS informed him. Doctor Banner was in his lab, although it appears he is now making his way down to the Training Facility to find out what’s going on. Captain Rogers is already there as is Thor.”

“What’s the incident?”

“It appears Thor has struck the speakers and the access pad with a bolt of lightning.” JARVIS replied. “I’m currently assessing the damage but as a result he is locked in. And he isn’t happy.” Okay, so maybe this was serious….

Tony gave an exasperated groan and pushed his chair from his desk. “Suppose I best go see if I can help. Remember what I said, anyone comes in here and tampers with my equipment…” “Of course, Sir.”

When Tony arrived, Thor was kicking the door to the training facility, waving his hammer irately.

“Thor!” Steve was stood by the glass, attempting to calm him down. “Don’t buddy, we’ll get you out of there.” “I can get myself out.” Thor blazed, raising his hand and Tony blanched at the fact Thor was threatening to send his hammer straight through the wall. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for the walls and glass to get damaged but they’d only just had it replaced after Steve and Thor had been practicing using Steve’s shield and Mjolnir to cause an outwards blasting shockwave. It had taken down two walls and completely decimated a bank of computers in the lab on the other side of the floor.

“What’s going on?” Tony asked, and Steve spun to him shooting him a glare.

“I’ll tell you what’s going on!” Thor roared. “That infernal song!”

His hammer crackled ominously again and Tony looked back to Steve.

“He was fed up of hearing Star Spangled Man With A Plan ringing out every goddamned time I opened a door.” Steve folded his arms. “So he lost his temper. And I can’t say I blame him.” “We’ve talked about this.” Tony looked at Thor. “You need to use your words, buddy!” “Words, I’ll give you more than words, Stark!” Thor roared. “Now get me out of here!”

“JARVIS?” Tony asked, looking at the pad on the door. “Damage report?”

“The Circuit is completely fried, Sir.” JARVIS replied. “I cannot access or override, you will need to do it manually.”

“Great.” Tony mumbled. “Let me just go get my tools from the lab.” Mumbling to himself, he set off down the corridor and once he was gone, Thor grinned and tossed his hammer in the air as he gave Steve and Banner the thumbs up before he caught it expertly again in his right hand.

“Good job!” Steve nodded with a smile as he pulled his phone out and dialled Katie quickly. “You’re up.” 

****

It took Tony roughly thirty minutes to replace the wires and unlock the door. Thor stormed out, pushed him harshly in the chest before he left down the corridor.

“Guess they don’t have April Fools’ Day on Asgard.” Tony mumbled, rubbing at the front of his shirt.

“To be honest, Tony, it’s pretty annoying.” Bruce sighed. “Can you turn it off now? I mean its almost two in the afternoon.” “Yeah I suppose.” Tony sighed, before he grinned. “Tt was a pretty good one though, right.” “Hilarious.” Steve deadpanned, his hands falling to his belt buckle. Tony flashed him a grin and a shrug before he gathered up his tools and made his way back down the corridor.

“JAR?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Turn off ‘Prank Spangles’ will you, before anyone else breaks more of my tower.”

“Right away, Sir.” “And I’m assuming from the lack of contact no one’s been in my office or anywhere else tampering with my equipment?” “That’s correct, Sir.” “Today has been a good day.” Tony grinned to himself.

Once he was back in his office he sat down at his chair, and went through his emails quickly. He absentmindedly scratched at his beard, which felt a little dry to be honest. But he hadn’t oiled it since that morning. Reaching into his drawer he grabbed the small bottle, tipped a good amount onto his hand and spread it across the expertly groomed whiskers before he continued with his work. It took him a few hours but he cleared his inbox and then decided it was time to face the music. Heading down to the common room he found the rest of the team lounging in front of the TV. They were watching Kitchen Nightmares. 

“S’up Kids?” he asked and none of them looked at him. “Okay, alright, I know, sorry if I pranked you but if I buy takeout will that make you forgive me?”

No answer.

“Oh come on!” Tony crossed the room, sinking into a spare arm chair. “I’ll get Thai.”

The team exchanged glances before Bruce gave a sigh. He was always the one to cave first, the mild mannered Scientist found it hard to stay outwardly angry, which was ironic when anyone thought about it.

“To be fair, that trick with the water was pretty clever.”

“Yeah, and I suppose the salt strawberries were a little amusing.” Thor looked at Katie.

She shrugged, her feet resting in Steve’s lap as he was gently running his fingers up and down her calf.

“Lighten up, Kiddo.”  Tony sighed, flopping onto an arm chair.  

“Payback’s a bitch, and so are you.”  She responded simply, still not looking at him.

“You’ve never managed to get me back yet.” Tony snorted.

At that point he noticed Natasha and Clint exchanging smirks. 

“What?”

“Nothing.” Clint shook his head.

“I like your beard” Thor suddenly grinned. “I have always admired how you keep it so neat and groomed. Maybe I should trim mine the same way.” Tony frowned. “Oh is this the part where you pin me down and shave it?” He rolled his eyes. “You know I can call my suit to me in like five seconds flat.” “We know.” Steve replied, looking at him and Tony’s frown deepened. The way the Captain’s blue eyes were shining with mirth made him uncomfortable.

He looked round as six pairs of eyes were all completely focussed on him now before Katie cracked up laughing.

“I’m sorry, I can’t…I can’t hold…” her laughter grew more and more as she threw her head back against the arm of the sofa “You look ridiculous!” Tony frowned and without a word stood up from the chair and made his way to the bar to glance in the mirrored surface between the shelves.

Oh. Holy. Jesus.

His goatee. His beautiful goatee…was blonde.

He spun round and the rest of the guys in the room cracked up laughing. Steve had his head thrown back, right hand clutching at his chest as Katie wiped tears from her face whilst Natasha doubled over on her seat. Besides her Clint slapped his thigh, his chuckles loud.

“What…how…” Tony spluttered, looking again at his reflection, before he glared back at the group.

“Slipped a little peroxide in your beard oil.” Katie managed to stutter between laughs, Thor’s loud rumbles continued, punctuated every now and then by a snort from Banner.

“JARVIS!” Tony roared “I told you to tell me if anyone went into my office, or the garage, or anywhere in the tower messing with my stuff…” “I take zero responsibility for this, Sir” The AI responded. “And I believe your instruction was to alert you if anyone entered your office or the garage or anywhere in the tower and messed with your equipment. Technically Miss Stark didn’t touch your equipment, only your Male grooming product. I believe they exploited a loophole.” That made the group laugh even harder as Tony went bright red, spluttering obscenities at JARVIS. Eventually he calmed down and sighed, before he glanced at his sister.

“You know I’m almost proud…” he said, shaking his head. “Almost…”

Katie gave him a wink in response. “You know what they say…you can’t kid a kidder, or in this case Kiddo…”

Tony gave a groan which turned into a resigned chuckle. He could always dye it back. “Good job, I’m impressed.” He mused, before he reached for some ice from the bucket on the bar and sighed. “Empty.”

“Yeah, don’t bother with the stuff in the dispenser.” Clint scoffed and Tony grinned.

“Wasn’t gonna, Legolass.” He grabbed the metal ice bucket and stepped from behind the bar.

“Oh, that reminds me, nice touch with the ice block.” Steve rolled his eyes and Tony looked at him, frowning.

“What?”

“The scale model Capsicle in the ice dispenser-“

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Old Man.” Tony shook his head. “Are you going senile?”

Steve took a deep breath and gave an exasperated sigh. “You don’t need to pretend anymore Tony.”

“Hey, I’m not.” Tony held his spare hand up. “That, as amusing as it was to watch, was not me. Although I’m kinda pissed I didn’t think of it.”

“It wasn’t you?” Steve frowned.

“Nope. I am not Spartacus.”

“Then who…” Steve started to ask but trailed off as he felt Katie’s legs shift a little in his lap. He turned to see her exchange a glance with Thor, biting her lip and then he realised exactly who was responsible. “Oh you are…”

“It was his idea!” Katie pointed at Thor as Steve glared at her.

“Yes, it was Captain.” Thor grinned and Steve turned his attention to the god. “When I found out what this whole Fools Day was about, I decided that I wanted to pull a prank of my own. Little Stark came up with that one. And, I must say, it was highly entertaining.”

Tony chuckled and clapped Steve on his shoulder from behind the couch as he headed off to find ice. “This has definitely been a good day.”

Steve continued to look at Katie, eyes narrowed as she stared back, her eyes twinkling. “Don’t look at me like that, Soldier.”

“Oh, and how am I looking at you?”

“Like you’re utterly and thoroughly disappointed in me.”

“I am utterly and thoroughly disappointed in you.” His eyes followed her as she shifted from where she’d been sprawled across the sofa, so she was sat upright. She sidled up closer to him, and leaned over.

“We’ll call it even for the plastic spider I found in the shower tray.” She whispered into his ear and Steve stiffened a little, before he swallowed and turned to look at her.

“Sorry?” He offered and she snorted, shaking her head. “To be honest, Doll, I didn’t think you’d noticed given your lack of reaction to it this morning.”

“Yeah, well, I grew up with Tony. You gotta try much harder than that to catch me out.”

“Message received, understood and duly noted for next year.” Steve muttered, his eyes flashing cheekily before he leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. “I’ll absolutely learn how to Kid a Kiddo.”

“Don’t count on it, Soldier.” She smirked as he pulled back, and he chuckled, wrapping his arm round her and pulling her close, pressing a kiss to her head.

All in all, Tony was right. It hadn’t been a bad day.

[reapers-carino]

You’re back! Can I request Sigma and fem S/O relaxing in each other’s arms either after a mission or after he gets out of talon. maybe a little angst and maybe a lot of fluff

Siebren had been stolen from you.

You both were astrophysicists that worked as co-researchers at The Hague, the classic story of colleagues turning into close companions and then clumsily and casually falling into love. Your relationship wasn’t like the vids, however. No, it was...comfortable. Eccentric. Full of excited hypotheses or bickering on theories, debating on what experiments you should run next, late nights at the lab together morphing into slow dancing and takeout while systems tested and calculated. You gently prodded the man to sleep at your apartment and not the in his office on a cot, coyly explaining at the time a well rested scientist ran much better work…and you had a California king. He relinquished soon enough. It had taken a while for your fellow researchers and lab assistants to find out; you nor Siebren flashy or loud about relationships, preferring a brief kiss on the cheek and hand holding to speak as loud as an official declaration. Once the news had swept through the lab, several of your colleagues joked that you had pulled the older man into your orbit, Siebren always answering back affectionately that it may be true because ‘you shined as bright as Sirius’. It still made a hot blush burn up your face and down your chest when you thought about it; the way he unabashedly showered you in love and affection constantly renewing the butterflies you had felt when you first fell into love with the man.

The day Siebren had made his breakthrough, the two of you had been cuddling in bed, the near seven foot tall man completely wrapped around you, you both enjoying the feel of each others skin after a shared post-coital shower. Quiet classical music played from the speakers as you had cuddled further back into the man, the hum of his voice like a purr against your back as his hands idly did mental calculations on your thigh, skin tingling at his gentle touching. You felt him pause, head tilting up to ask him if he was stuck and needed to talk it out but the man had gone stock still before briskly sitting up and speedily going through the solution to successfully subvert the universe’s pull on gravity so that it could be harnessed. Your brow had furrowed as you went over what he had said, calculations flying through your own mind before your eyes had widened and you threw yourself at the man. You kissed him and called him brilliant and then demanded he immediately write all of that down. From there it was a whirlwind of gaining government grants to approvals for him to study at the International Space Station until the day it came for him to say goodbye. He had pressed kisses against the top of your head, your temples, your cheeks and chin and nose before ever getting to your lips, promising to video call you as soon as he had made it and every night after that.

 And he had been a man of his word. The two of you would talk every night for at least an hour although often more, recording the calls so you both could go over notes or suggestions or calculations the other gave or just to hear one anothers’ voices when the distance became too much. The night of the final test, Siebren had set up his camera as he always had, excitedly notating out loud every step he was going through so that the moment could both be recorded and all steps captured could be formally notated. You giddily watched on the holo-screen at home, dressed in one of his sleeping shirts and holding a data-pad to make any notes that weren’t directly stated. You remembered how your heart had swelled with pride and excitement, knowing he would soon be back on Earth and in your arms and celebrated for the greatest breakthrough in astrophysics since the discovery of Proxima b.

 Both of your eyes grew with wonder as the field he had perfected began to form a black hole, tears welling up in your eyes as the ball of pure black pulsated calmly. Siebren’s eyes briefly lifted to yours before dropping back down, a slow smile of amazement growing on his face as his fingers undulated, the black hole responding in turn. Tears burned in your eyes as he began to laugh, describing out loud the pressure he could feel pressing back but with a turn of the hand the field was able to contain it and pull it back. Minutes felt like eons as you watched Siebren manipulate the black hole, twisting and turning and growing and shrinking the orb until his brow furrowed hard. Electric began to crackle near the base of the containment field before Siebren began to yell worriedly.

 ‘Density! Mass! Momentum! It is too much to hold onto!’

 ‘This is wrong! The field is failing!’

 You screamed for him as you watched the orb pulsate then split, panic settling in as objects around the room began to lift and fall around Siebren, the man’s voice rapidly switching between yelling and babbling in Dutch and English and Swedish and German. Devices that weighed several tonnes began to float in the air as if they were as light as feathers, listing left and right behind the man as his scream got louder and softer. Hands shaking you watched helplessly as whatever the camera was attached to became undone and started to float, Siebren going still before his eyes lifted to the screen and locked with your eyes.

 ‘Mijn universum’

 Sound cut from Siebren’s side, the camera still recording as objects kept rising and falling, only stopping when it appeared security ran in and grabbed the man. All you saw before the connection was cut was Siebren’s lab bathed in emergency lights, everything that had once been floating falling unceremoniously to the ground with something crushing the camera. With your heart slamming in your chest you called the emergency line given to families, explaining to them what you had seen, even sending them the recording that you had of that night. They placated you with saying the man was undergoing treatment for injuries sustained during the experiment, refusing to show him to you or give you any detail of what actually was wrong before pronouncing he had succumbed to his wounds. You refused to believe it, remembering how the man had looked when you had last seen him; uninjured but confused, rambling but still physically sound. You tried showing the video to anyone who would watch, refusing to believe the official reports of his death but you were ignored, mocked. You were a respected member of your field but how could you know the affects of a black hole on the human body? What reason would the government have to lie about this? It was sad you had lost someone dear to you but ‘you had to use your brain’.

 You were eventually driven out of your field, mocked and pitied for being overcome with grief and ‘losing all grasp on logic’ due to your loss of Siebren. Despite all this, you never gave up hope, clinging desperately to the idea that the man was still alive, the ridiculous unscientific notion of ‘the heart knows’ spurring you along. For years you came up empty handed, the near decade of searching weighing heavily on your shoulder before the universe finally gave you a bone. A former university colleague extended a hand, Moira O’Deorain, saying that she believed your plight and that she would love to help you…as long as you could help her in return. You had accepted immediately, asking no questions of the who or what, utterly relieved that someone finally believed you and that the burden wouldn’t be one you had to bare all on your own. Even when you found out the organization was Talon, you didn’t back down, jaded by the fact that so much of the world had turned their back on you when Siebren had needed them. If they could help you find him or find some semblance of closure, anything they asked of you would be more than worth it.

 You had been tasked with designing a battle suit per their specifications; one capable of withstanding a constant flux in gravity, something that could convert kinetic energy into a body shield, and one that could stand an immense amount of pressure, possibly greater than that found at the depths of the ocean. You worked diligently, the suit familiar to the one you had been tasked to create years prior with Siebren in preparation for his own experimentation in space, your heart aching as you put in fail-safes that could have possibly protected or saved him from harm. You kept your head down, never really introduced to any other personnel in Talon other than the science department and only catching glimpses of the more infamous faces of the organization. Genuinely you didn’t care to make friends, you wanted to fulfill your end of the bargain so that they could fulfill their own. It took several months with the technology they had available, but you had finished the preliminary design of the suit, telling Moira you simply needed to tailor the suit to wearer and it would be completed.

 She had responded with a cryptic, ‘He will be liberated soon enough.’

 You had thought nothing of it, expecting another jailbreak similar to that of Akande Ogundimu, working quietly in your lab to tweak and update the suit so whomever wore it could make no complaints. They didn’t waste good technology on non-intellectuals so at the bare minimum it had to pass your stringent standards. Your back had been turned when they had brought him in, classical music floating through your lab softly, helping you focus on tweaking the pin on one of the minicontrollers minutely to correctly an insulation and cooling issue. The rasping voice of the ‘Reaper’ began to chip at your concentration, your hands stilling briefly as he snapped orders to bring him inside. You had let out a long suffering sigh, placing your instruments down and began to pull off the magnifying headband to face whoever was entering your lab before freezing at the sound of one voice.

 “Th-that melody…where am I?”

 You remembered it felt like you had been punched in the chest, every ounce of air stolen from you as you ripped the head lamp off and stared at the door with wild, tear-filled eyes. Just pass the doorway, flanked by three of Talon foot soldiers behind and the Reaper in front was Siebren. Somehow he had stayed the same and yet had changed so much. The man was dressed in what looked like an orange jumpsuit, several emblems denoting him as ‘SUBJECT Σ’, wrists and ankles adorned with chainless shackles. Augmentations had been carved into his face; his cheekbones and forehead and temples now adorned with metal that made your heart ache, wondering how much pain he was in when they were inserted. His face was still his but…his cheeks had become somewhat sunken and swollen bags resting beneath his dull, spiritless blue eyes. But what had shocked you the most is how the man was floating at least a meter off of the ground, all surrounding him seemingly unconcerned by his ability to completely subvert Newton’s law of gravitation. Stumbling forward, you remembered when Siebren eyes fell to yours, the man’s eyes going round as he spoke your name barely above a whisper. He dropped to the ground and when you surged forward, he took you into his arms and you held onto each other as if either let go the other would float away.

 And this is how you both found yourself working for Talon. They had tethered you both to the organization by using the other as collateral. Siebren, or Sigma as they preferred to call him, would never leave if he could not leave with you and you were a grounding source for Siebren and would never leave his side after your time apart. Neither one of you were fighters or soldiers, you were scientists, but something had changed in Siebren after years of isolated experimentation and repeated exposure to his new found abilities. Battle was an experiment and while not always preferred, he would do what he must to keep testing the new hypotheses that both he and you came up with.

 Today, at least, the fighting was over.

 You stood on the flight deck, watching as the hovercraft began to touch the ground, pushing off of the stair railing that you had been leaning on. The team had recently moved to another base in Australia, the Outback providing swaths of land that was ignored by the country’s government, Talon quickly creating a state of the art facility within a year. Plumes of reddish brown dust expanded outwards as the ship doors opened, the half dozen or so foot soldiers walking out soon followed by the ‘A-team’. You gave a respectful ‘good evening’ or ‘hello’ to those that passed, warmly squeezing Moira’s shoulder before walking past them and towards the straggler.

 “Welcome home”, you said warmly, a genuine grin creasing your face as you looked up into Sigma’s eyes. The small frown that had become his neutral expression melted away as his eyes met yours, the tension in the man’s body seemingly melted away. Slowly he went from floating a meter off the ground to hovering a few centimeters off of the ground. Taking one of his gloved hands in yours you let him lead the way. “The mission was a success?”

 “Mmm I believe so”, he stated, humming low in his throat as he briefly recalled. His hand gently squeezed yours as the two of you walked through the bay doors. “It appears that I may be able to increase the range of Gravitic Flux but it seems to require further experimentation.”

 You bobbed your head in agreement, mentally notating that for training later. But for now, you wanted to make sure he could unwind after being away for the last few days. Lacing your hands with his you began to take charge as Sigma’s feet finally touched the ground, turning and smiling mischievously at him as you tugged him through the halls.

 “Woah”, he huffed out, a quiet chuckle following his words as you tugged him along. “What’s the rush…and we’ve walked pass the lab.”

 “I know my love”, you hummed back as you kept marching forward, turning towards the personnel quarters and your shared room. “I have a surprise for you.”

 “Oh then please lead on”, he answered, a quiet lilt in his voice as he began to float once more, stumbling as the load of him got even lighter.

 Turning you shot him a playful glare as you practically skipped down the hall, turning until you got to the ‘A-teams’ quarters, the master’s sized bedrooms a treat for the eccentric members of the battle team. For a terrorist organization constantly on the run, it was odd how their pockets seemingly never ran dry and how they never had to ‘rough’ it in anything less than a four star hotel. Still, you didn’t peek too far behind the curtain, happy to fulfill the role of nothing more than a personal scientist and to reap the benefits that came with being the ‘Sigma’s girl’.

 You hummed quietly as you pressed your hand to the biometric scanner, twisting on your heel and pulling Siebren by both hands down grinning wide as you stared up at him. The light had returned to his cerulean eyes, his cheeks no longer sallow or sunken but filled by months of meals you personally requested of the kitchen staff and your own clumsily made stroopwafels. He seemed….happy again. You didn’t know what the government had done to him while he had been locked away but the hacker woman, Sombra was her name, had given you some details and it seemed he had been isolated away from others for most of his time. Once he was brought on to the base and allowed to interact with others, to talk and move freely and actually be human, the man you fell in love with came back to you piece by piece.

 Siebren floated lower, pulling your hands back so they could carefully wrap around his body and gently grabbing you by the waist to float you the rest of the way to the room.

 “So what do you have planned this time mijn schatje”, he inquired, one of his bushy brows lifting inquisitively. You giggled quietly as you lifted on shoulder in playful innocence.

 “You’ll have to open the door and see”, you answered lackadaisically, knowing the ever curious man wouldn’t hesitate to find the answers that he wanted the answers to.

 He pressed you closer to him, his arm locking around your waist so he could use his free hand to press to the biometric scanner on the door, the man pausing for a moment as the scent of food escaped.

 “Is that…”

 “Mhmm”, you answered, leaning up to place a gentle kiss on the underside of his chin as he looked in the room in astonishment before looking down at you with pure adoration. “I know it’s summer here but I wanted to give you a touch of winter from home. I don’t know how but the omnic chef, I think her name is Tulip, was able to get her hand on actual rookworst. So I asked her to make some boerenkoolstamppot and oliebol when I heard you two were on your way back.”

 You and Tulip had made sure to put the meals under one of those special serving platters that suspended the meal with hardlight; the meal still piping hot and the dessert protected from condensation. A grin grew on your face as you soaked in the look on his face, the man slowly pulling his eyes from the food an down to you.

 “Mijn universum”, he breathed softly, slowly lowering to the ground with you, his hands resting lightly on either side of your torso. His thumbs rubbed slow circles against your side, the pads of his gloves pressing into you slightly. “Thank you…”

 “You are more than welcome my love”, you hummed softly before taking a small half step back from him and grabbing one of his hands with both of yours. Your thumbs gently ran over the textured pads, glossing over the oppositional gravitational channeler, fingertips dancing up to gently pull it off. “Here let’s get you out of your uniform and enjoy a good winter meal. Oh, and I’ll turn on our melody.”

 “Yes that does sound lovely.”

 Siebren smiled as you hummed the chords to the song that had been stuck in his head for years, the melody that had played in the lab when the singularity had happened that had given him a glance into the future. It had played on loop, obsessively taunting him with a beautiful, comforting tune, so familiar and yet so far away, comfort teasing him in it’s harmony but never quite settling. This had been the first song he heard when walking into your lab, the first song he had when he had been liberated, the first song when his universe began to come back together. The AI of the room took over, it soft, feminine voice ringing out.

 “Now playing, ‘My Universe’.”

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Stark Spangled Banner One Shot: You Can’t Kid a Kiddo

Intro: It’s April Fools’ Day…and Tony is out to play. Avengers, beware!

Warnings: Bad language, very mild smut...no one gets naked.

Pairings: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark 

A/N:This is written for @wkemeup​ ‘s  4K Writing Challenge. My prompt was dialogue- “I take zero responsibility for this…”

This takes place in the Stark Spangled Banner timeline in April 2015 just before the events of AOU. Steve and my OFC (Katie Stark- Tony’s sister) have been together for 2 years ish and are engaged at this point as well. There’s also another Easter Egg in here for me to set up another One Shot I’m working on...

You don’t have to have read SSB to understand or enjoy this but feel free to check them out if you so wish. Stark Spangled Banner, and the prequel Stark Spangled Man can both be found here on my Masterlist.

Please re-blog and send me comments/thoughts. That’s my jam!

Steve’s hands were hot on Katie’s hips, gently gripping her bare skin just above her underwear, the top she was wearing riding up slightly. Her bare thighs were straddling his as he gripped her neck, pulling her down for a searing kiss, grinding up against her, the TV programme was long forgotten.

“You know…” he said, pulling back slightly to look at her, one of his hands tangling in the hem of the plaid button down she’d stolen from him to sleep in, as usual “Captain America doesn’t approve of theft.” “Captain America is an ass hole.” she grinned back “Stevie is my favourite.”

He gave a chuckle and leaned back against the sofa cushions, looking at her for a second “How did I get so lucky?” he asked, reaching up to tuck her long hair behind her ears. She smiled at him, her cheeks slightly flushed.

“What’s brought this on?” she asked, her hands sliding up his chest, resting on his shoulders, fingers gently playing with the collar of his polo shirt.

“Nothing.” he said, “Just seeing you before, today, with that reporter, just reminded me about how fierce...” he pressed a kiss to her lips “and loyal…” another kiss “and downright sexy you are when you’re angry…”

“He was a dick.” she mumbled, against his lips, her eyes narrowing slightly as she pulled back to look at him, his fingers gently tracing the outside of her thighs “I mean, it’s not like we haven’t already launched the publicity campaign already…”

“Well it’s big news.” he smiled up at her.

“Of course it will, it’s Harlan Thrombey…” she shrugged “His books are huge!”

“Did you ever get to the bottom of why he’s reached out to SIP to run the next one when he has his own publishing company?” “Oh something to do with his Son annoying him and needing to be taught not to take things for granted.” Katie shrugged “I can ask him that in October when we meet him to go over the final edit and discuss the covers and stuff… but that’s by the by. That ass-hat reporter should have been at the press launch like everyone else, not trying to accost us when we went out for lunch. And what the fuck has whether we’ve set a wedding date got to do with it anyway? Nosey bastard.”

Steve chuckled at her rant and looked at her, his eyes shining. “We haven’t set one though.”

“Yeah well, we’ve kinda had a bit going on.” she said, “Maybe once all this business with the sceptre is sorted we can think about it.” Steve sighed “I know, it’s taking a little longer than we hoped.”

“Well it’s only the end of March.” she shrugged “I’ve always wanted a summer wedding so it’s not…”

She trailed off and Steve saw her eyes widen and her mouth dropped open as she looked at him. “Oh shit…”

“Kitten, what is it?” he frowned.

“It’s the 31st March…” she looked at him, swallowing. Steve felt the colour draining from his face "Crap." The reason for their horror was simple. Because, forget Christmas or Thanksgiving, April Fools’ Day was Tony Stark's favourite time of year, as his long suffering sister could testify. When she was a kid, Tony had done the usual stuff. Flour in her talc, washing up liquid in her shampoo, paper shapes of bugs (never spiders though, he wasn't that cruel) in lampshades so when she turned the lights on she'd think she had a huge cockroach in there, that type of stuff. But, as she matured so did the pranks. At one time whilst she had been at the tower for a meeting JARVIS sent her an alert that someone had slashed her tyres in the carpark. She had sprinted outside to see photos of Slash from Guns and Roses struck to the side of her tyres. Another year Tony had hacked her StarkPhone and Laptop and changed the language to Chinese. Of course she couldn't read fucking Chinese to change it back. When she found an agent in SHIELD who did and he reversed it for her, within 30 seconds it had flicked over to Russian. And when she fixed that it became Swedish and so on and so on... Steve had also been the butt of a few pranks since he had known Tony. In 2013 he had fallen for the old toothpaste Oreo trick when a box had arrived for him allegedly from the cookie company themselves after Steve had been papped eating a packet. That had nearly made him sick. And then last year there had been the none stop phone calls asking for Franklin. Every time it was someone different and Steve was getting more and more frustrated as to who exactly Franklin was and why people thought he was on his number. Then, as he and Katie had been on the sofa making out, he'd gotten one last call…

"Leave it..." she said, her hands in his face turning her back to look at him. He kissed her again, hands sliding up the side of her torso, grinding his crotch down onto hers making her purr with delight as her hands strayed to the buckle of his belt, soft fingers gently skimming his abs as she made to undo it, his tongue tangling ferociously with hers as he gave a soft moan of pleasure... But his phone was going again. Katie sighed as he dropped his head to her chest, mumbling a curse. "Unless that’s a Code Red, you can tell whoever it is to fuck off." she said with a frustrated growl, her head flopping back against the cushion as he reached over and answered it, still led over her. "Rogers..." he said sharply. It was another unknown number, but not an unknown voice. "Hi this is Frankin!" Tony greeted him Steve let out a growl of frustration as he realised he had been had. "Have there been..." pause as the inventor laughed "I'm sorry, have there been any calls for me?" "Tony I swear to god!" he spat through gritted teeth as the inventor cackled and hung up. "Your brother is a dick." he looked down at Katie, shaking his head. "Well yeah, I know that…" Katie looked up at her boyfriend "What did he just do?" "Those calls I’ve been getting all day. Asking for Franklin?" He looked at her and she nodded "it was him."

She paused and then let out a laugh “Ok, to be fair, that’s a pretty good one…” “I hate him.” he mumbled, dropping his head back to her chest.

She chuckled again, and ran her fingers through his hair. “Hey, Stevie…wanna get him back?" “How?” Steve queried, propping himself up on his elbows, looking at her.. “Call him...” she grinned, leaning up and nipping at his jaw line softly as he closed his eyes “Leave the phone on the table...” she bucked up under him, wriggling her hips, his trousers feeling uncomfortably tight  again “and let him listen to us make out”

Steve hadn’t done that, because, well frankly the thought of anyone listening to them wasn’t a great turn on in his books so Tony had gone another year of getting away with it.

Simply put, Tony was king of the pranks, and this year he had the entire team at the tower to torment. 

“We should warn the others…” Steve looked at her, and with a sigh she nodded. She untangled herself from him and straightened the legs on her denim shorts.

“JARVIS?” she asked.

“Yes Miss Stark…” “Where are the rest of the team?”

“Agent Romanoff and Agent Barton are in the Common Room.” he spoke “Thor is in his quarters as is Mr Stark and Dr Banner is in the Lab…”

“I’ll text Nat, Clint and Banner.” she said, nodding “Can you go see Thor…he doesn’t have a phone and I’m not asking JARVIS to do it in case Tony catches on…” Steve nodded “Yeah, I’ll pop down and see him now.” Giving her a quick kiss he straightened his pants slightly and headed towards the hidden elevator, selecting the right floor. Thor and Clint shared one of the highest floors in the tower, both preferring to be higher up, closer to the roof but it was still below their’s. Exiting the elevator, he turned left and knocked on the door.

“Captain?” Thor answered and stepped back. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” “It’s not strictly pleasure I’m afraid Thor…” Steve sighed “I’m hear with a warning.” “A warning?” he frowned.

“Yeah, you got five minutes? It’s gonna take some explanation.”

***** Tony was giggling to himself as he put the final touches to the last of his pranks, before closing the door to the Lab and heading back to his floor. None of the team were up yet, it was ridiculously early, but the early bird catches the worm and all that. Fuck Killian and his second mouse bullshit. He had been toying with setting it all up the previous evening but he didn’t trust Kiddo and Spangles not to do some kind of recon mission before they went to bed. 

“What have you been doing?” Pepper mumbled to him as he walked back into their dark bedroom.

“Nothing…” he said, with a grin, leaning down to give her a peck.

“Bullshit.” Pepper mumbled against his lips. “It’s April Fools Day…” “Is it?” he said, innocently and she rolled her eyes “JARVIS?”

“Yes Sir?”

“Hey buddy, I need you to set up an alert for me for today. If anyone goes into my office, or the garage, or anywhere in the tower messing with my equipment I wanna know about it.”

“Of course Sir.”

Tony grinned as he headed into the bathroom for a shower. “Game on, Avengers...” 

Prank 1.

Steve was the first victim. He and Katie were making their way, cautiously, down to the large meeting room where they were all due to congregate to look over the plans of an abandoned British prison they suspected of being a Hydra base. They made sure to check round each corner before they walked round it, checking up high, low, everywhere.

But there was no avoiding this prank.

Steve pressed his palm to the Biometric Pad on the meeting room door and the pair of them gave a loud yell and a jump as their ears were assaulted by a sudden chorus.

“Who's strong and brave here to save the American Way? Who vows to fight like a man for what's right, night and day?”

“Oh for fucks sake…” Steve groaned as he pulled open the door, the song echoing through the PA system.

“Who will campaign door to door for America? Carry the flag shore to shore for America? From Hoboken to Spokane? The Star Spangled Man with a plan!”

Clint and Natasha were stood, poised at the table, both wearing identical looks of astonishment on their faces. They turned to Katie and Steve as they walked into the room, the song still playing.

“We can't ignore there's a threat and a war we must win! Who'll hang a noose on the goose-stepping goons from Berlin?”

“I’m assuming this means Cap is the first of us to fall victim to Stark?” Clint asked, his lips quirking into a smile.

“Who will indeed lead the call for America? Who'll rise or fall, give his all, for America?”

“Please tell me it isn’t going to go through a full rendition…” Steve sighed, dropping into a chair.

“Who's here to prove that we can? The Star Spangled Man with a plan!”

Silence. The 4 of them waited with bated breath, but thankfully it had stopped.

“Just the first two verses…” Katie said, sitting next to him. “Suppose we should be grateful.” “Kiddo, you’re as much of a sneak as Tony…” Clint looked at her, as Thor walked into the room. “How come you’ve never managed to get him back?”

“He’s too smart.” she sighed, “I’ve tried and tried before. It doesn’t help that he has JARVIS either, watch this…JARVIS?”

“Yes Miss Stark?”

“Has my brother got an alert going for you to warn him if we try and prank him?” “I couldn’t possibly comment Miss Stark, on whether or not your brother has an alert set up to warn him if you attempt to tamper with any of his equipment…”

Normally she would chuckle at the AIs tone but she was too frustrated with her brother and the seeming lack of loopholes in any of his instructions she could exploit. She leaned back in her chair and gave a huff “See?”

“I could just shock him with some lightning?” Thor suggested

“Think that’s a little harsh.” Steve sighed. 

“See if you still think that by the end of the day when every time you open a door that song starts.” Natasha looked at him.

“What, you think…” Steve looked at her and then gave a groan. “It’s not just gonna be the one door is it?”

_____

Tony, watching the events unfold on the display in the safety of his office cackled. “Of course it isn’t just one door…” _______

Prank 2.

Bruce was sincerely hoping that whatever inevitable prank Tony was going to pull on him that the Billionaire had been sensible enough not to shock him so far that the Hulk erupted. Bruce had a pretty good hold on him, so he wasn’t too worried but still, you never know.

He made it to his lab in one piece, opened the door and stopped dead.

In front of him on the floor, for about 2 metres square were cups of water. And they were positioned hat close together that there was no space for him to step over in any direction without them spilling all over the floor. Which meant he couldn’t get into the room. Had it been anyone else, they would probably have simply kicked them over, but not Bruce. He was always paranoid about the liquid seeping through the floors and down onto the machinery which looked after the Iron Legion. 

So if he was going to get into the lab, he was going to have to move them one cup at a time. 

“Damned you Tony!” he said with a loud, exasperated sigh “JARVIS? I need a bucket…”

_______

Tony, watching the events unfold on the display in the safety of his office cackled. “Good luck finding one Brucey…”

_______

Prank 3.

“I don’t think there’s much else to go on…” Steve sighed as the rest of the team finished looking over the plans “We need to get out there and do a recon really.“

“We prepping for another mission then, Cap?” Clint looked at him. Steve took a deep breath and nodded.

“I don’t think we have an alternative.” 

“Ok, well, if we get everything ready we can go at first light tomorrow.” Natasha suggested “I’ll get onto the British Authorities, let them know we’re planning on coming.” “Get Hill onto it” Katie suggested “She’ll go through the UN.”

With that an alert sounded on her phone and she looked down at it. “I gotta go take a conference call but I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Steve nodded to her as she stood up and left the room. She made it to her office, safely and swung the door open, pausing just to make sure nothing fell from the door frame. She darted through, took a look round and everything seemed to be in order.

Suspecting Tony of most likely sabotaging her computer or screen, she sat down on her chair and a loud horn sounded causing her to scream and involuntarily he entire body jumped, and her chair toppled backwards. She went with it, arms and legs flailing and she hit the floor with a crash.

After taking a moment to sort herself out she stood up, and looked at the bottom of her chair. There was an Airhorn strapped to the main leg which mean as soon as she had sat down, it would push the handle causing it to sound.

“I know you’re watching this you fucker!” she yelled, spinning round to the CCTV camera and flicking it off “I hate you!”

_____ Tony, watching the events unfold on the display in the safety of his office cackled. “Nice fall Kiddo…”

_______

Prank 4.

Given that there was nothing else to do, Natasha decided to head to the gym, as she did every Tuesday morning, to practice Pilates. It was a routine she tried not to break as it helped her keep supple and relax. Katie sometimes joined her, and surprisingly so did Steve. He said it helped keep his mind clear. 

She knew that the routine made her an easy target for one of Stark’s pranks, but she was damned if he was going to catch her out. She was one of the world’s best spies, no way was he going to get her with some stupid, childish trick.

She entered the room and glanced up and around, checking the corners, you name it. Satisfied that no one was going to jump out at her, and even if they did, she’d floor them- more fool you, Stark, she leaned up against the bench and stretched her legs out.

“Who's strong and brave here to save the American Way? Who vows to fight like a man for what's right, night and day?”

She spun to see Steve shaking his head as he made his way into the room in his gym gear

“You joining me or hitting the bag?” she asked as they both tried to ignore the song as it continued ringing from the speakers.

“Joining you if that’s ok?” he said, “I went for a run this morning so…” “Sure.” she nodded, and as the song finally stopped they made their way to the store cupboards, picking out their mats. Natasha picked her favoured one, and lay it down on the floor.

As soon as she stepped on it there was a loud popping noise, like a gun going off, and she jumped backwards, dropping to the floor by instinct. 

“Nat…” Steve said, a smile tugging at his lips “It’s ok, it’s not a gun.” Angrily she stood up, stalked over to the mat and pulled it up off the floor. She examined it a little before she gave a snort.

“Bastard!” she exclaimed, slipping her hand into a small, almost invisible hole on the underside. She pulled out a tiny little firecracker, the type that kids used to throw on the floor in front of someone to make a loud bag. “He’s filled my mat with these!” 

______

Tony, watching the events unfold on the display in the safety of his office cackled. “Even Super Spies get fooled, Romanoff…”

_______

Prank 5 and 6.

Later that day the team met in the common room for lunch. Steve already had a headache from that damned song following him every time he opened a door, Katie was sporting quite a sore elbow after falling harshly on the floor, Bruce was pissed as it had taken him a good hour to get rid of the cups of water, and Natasha was seething at the fact she’d been caught out too.

“I don’t know how you’ve put up with it for your entire life.” Clint said to Katie as he opened the fridge, pulling out a can of his favoured Dr Pepper. He grabbed a glass and a few ice cubes, the way he always like his soda and walked over to where they were all sat on the sofas with various lunch items on the coffee table. He poured the soda into the glass and set it on the table.

“Yeah well, you better be careful.” Katie said “You too Thor, there’s no way he hasn’t set one up for you both.” “I am mighty Little Stark.” Thor grinned, nursing a plate of his favoured chocolate and sugar covered strawberries he had snaffled from a tray in the fridge “it will take more than…” “SHIT!” Clint exclaimed, and with a loud yell they all jumped back as the soda in his glass was exploding over the top with such veracity it was showering them all in the sticky drink. As Steve and Natasha headed to grab some paper towels, Katie marched over to the freezer and yanked out the ice dispenser tray.

“He’s put fucking Mentos in the ice cubes!” she said with a shake of her head. “Jesus Christ…” “You gotta hand it to him.” Bruce sighed, wiping his glasses off on his shirt 

“I’d like to hand it to him.” she mumbled, “with my fist closed.” Thor gave a chuckle and popped a strawberry in his mouth, before he gave a grimace, gagged and spat it back out onto the plate.

“That’s…” he stood up, nearly pushing Steve over in his attempt to get to the sink. 

Katie watched him as he grabbed a glass of water and filled it from the tap. 

“What...” Natasha looked at Bruce who was examining a piece of the fruit, holding it in front of his nose.

“Salt…” Thor mumbled as he rinsed his mouth out “It isn’t sugar, its salt. He put salt on my Chocolate Sugar Fruit!”

_____

Tony, watching the events unfold on the display in the safety of his office cackled. “Ice Ice baby... not so mighty after all Thunder God.”

_______

*******

“We have to get him back…” Natasha grumbled as they all sat in Katie and Steve’s apartment, having retreated to the relative safety as their living quarters were the one place there was no CCTV, and Katie had the authority to banish JARVIS from earwigging. (Tony had learnt that lesson one day after hearing something he really didn’t want to hear…)

“Believe me I’ve tried.” Katie sighed “And you heard J before, anyone tampers with his equipment and…” She stopped dead. That was it. That was the loophole. With a smirk she looked round the assembled faces. Steve arched an eyebrow at her, he knew that look very well.

“What you thinking?” he asked and she grinned at them all.

“Ok, listen up.” she said, leaning forward. “I have an idea...”

They listened attentively, Clint and Natasha sharing a grin as she outlined her plan whilst Thor slapped his thigh with glee. Steve leaned back in his chair and looked at Banner who was also smiling ear to ear.

“That might just work.” The Doctor said “It’s a pretty good loophole, and we have the stuff in the lab so…” “I’ll need a distraction.” Katie said, “something that’s gonna draw Tony out of his office for long enough for me to do it but…” “That’s easy.” Thor said, “I’m sure I can cause a good deal of noise in the Training Facility, break a few things with my hammer…”

“Fry something.” Steve said, looking round “If you do that then JARVIS won’t be able to fix it remotely, Tony’s gonna have to get his hands dirty.”

“You all know what you’re doing?” Katie grinned as everyone nodded. “Ok, Avengers, let’s do this…“

Operation Payback.

Tony heard the bang seconds before JARVIS spoke

“Mr Stark…”

“What the hell was that?”

“There’s been an incident in the Training Suite.”

“Course there has…” Tony rolled his eyes in exasperation at how stupid they thought he was. He wasn’t falling for a distraction like that. “Where is everyone?” “Miss Stark, Agent Romanoff and Agent Barton are in the shooting range.” Jarvis informed them. Doctor Banner was in his lab, although it appears he is now making his way down to the Training Facility to find out what’s going on. Captain Rogers is already there as is Thor.”

“What’s the incident?”

“It appears Thor has struck the speakers and the access pad with a bolt of lightning.” JARVIS replied “I’m currently assessing the damage but as a result he is locked in. And he isn’t happy.” Tony gave an exasperated groan and pushed his chair from his desk. “Suppose I best go see if I can help…remember what I said, anyone comes in here and tampers with my equipment…” “Of course, Sir…”

When Tony arrived Thor was kicking the door to the training facility, waving his hammer irately.

“Thor!” Steve was stood by the glass, attempting to calm him down. “Don’t buddy, we’ll get you out of there…” “I can get myself out…” Thor blazed, raising his hand and Tony blanched at the fact Thor was threatening to send his hammer straight through the wall. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for the walls and glass to get damaged but they’d only just had it replaced after Steve and Thor had been practicing using Steve’s shield and Mjolnir to cause an outwards blasting shockwave. 

“What’s going on?” Tony asked, and Steve spun to him shooting him a glare.

“I’ll tell you what’s going on…” Thor roared “That infernal song…”

His hammer crackled ominously again and Tony looked back to Steve.

“He was fed up of hearing Star Spangled Man With A Plan ringing out every goddamned time I opened a door.” Steve folded his arms “So he lost his temper. And I can’t say I blame him.” “We’ve talked about this.” Tony looked at Thor “You need to use your words buddy…” “Words, I’ll give you more than words, Stark!” Thor roared “Now get me out of here!”

“JARVIS?” Tony asked, looking at the pad on the door. “Damage report?”

“The Circuit is completely fried Sir.” JARVIS said “I cannot access or override, you will need to do it manually.”

“Great…” Tony mumbled “Let me just go get my tools from the lab.” Mumbling to himself he set off down the corridor and once he was gone, Thor grinned and tossed his hammer in the air as he gave Steve and Banner the thumbs up before he caught it expertly again in his right hand.

“Good job!” Steve nodded with a smile as he pulled his phone out and dialled Katie quickly. “You’re up.” 

****

It took Tony roughly 30 minutes to replace the wires and unlock the door. Thor stormed out, pushed him harshly in the chest before he left down the corridor.

“Guess they don’t have April Fools’ day on Asgard.” Tony mumbled, rubbing at the front of his shirt.

“To be honest Tony, it’s pretty annoying.” Bruce sighed “Can you at least turn it off now, I mean its almost 2 in the afternoon.” “Yeah I suppose…” Tony sighed, before he grinned “it was a pretty good one though, right.” “Hilarious.” Steve deadpanned, his hands falling to his belt buckle. Tony flashed him a grin and a shrug before he gathered up his tools and made his way back down the corridor.

“JAR?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Turn off Prank Spangles will you, before anyone else breaks more of my tower.”

“Right away Sir.” “And I’m assuming from the lack of contact no one’s been in my office tampering with my equipment?” “That’s correct sir.” “Today has been a good day.” Tony grinned to himself.

Once he was back in his office he sat down at his chair, and went through his emails quickly. He absentmindedly scratched at his beard, which felt a little dry to be honest. But he hadn’t oiled it since that morning. Reaching into his drawer he grabbed the small bottle, tipped a good amount onto his hand and spread it across the expertly groomed whiskers before he continued with his work. It took him a few hours but he cleared his inbox and then decided it was time to face the music. Heading down to the common room he found the rest of the team lounging in front of the TV. They were watching Kitchen Nightmares. 

“S’up Kids?” he asked and none of them looked at him. “Ok, alright, I know…sorry if I pranked you but if I buy takeout will that make you forgive me?”

No answer.

“Oh come on!” Tony said, crossing the room, sinking into a spare arm chair. “I’ll get Thai…"

The team exchanged glances before Bruce gave a sigh. He was always the one to cave first, the mild mannered Scientist found it hard to stay outwardly angry, which was ironic when anyone thought about it.

“To be fair, that trick with the water was pretty clever.” he shrugged.

“Yeah, and I suppose the salt strawberries were a little amusing.” Thor said, looking at Katie.

She shrugged, her feet resting in Steve’s lap as he was gently running his fingers up and down her calf.

“Oh come on Kiddo…”  Tony sighed, flopping onto an arm chair.  

“Payback’s a bitch…and so are you.”  she said simply, still not looking at him.

“You’ve never managed to get me back yet.” Tony snorted.

At that point he noticed that Natasha and Clint exchanging smirks. 

“What?”

“Nothing.” Clint said, shaking his head.

“I like your beard” Thor said, grinning “I have always admired how you keep it so neat and groomed. Maybe I should trim mine the same way.” Tony frowned. “Oh is this the part where you pin me down and shave it?” he rolled his eyes “You know I can call my suit to me in like 5 seconds flat.” “We know.” Steve said simply, looking at him. Tony’s frown deepened. The way the Captain’s blue eyes were shining with mirth made him uncomfortable.

He looked round as 6 pairs of eyes were all completely focussed on him now before Katie cracked up laughing.

“I’m sorry, I can’t…I can’t hold…” her laughter grew more and more as she threw her head back against the arm of the sofa “You look ridiculous…” Tony frowned and without a word stood up from the chair and made his way to the bar to glance in the mirrored surface between the shelves.

Oh. Holy. Jesus.

His goatee. His beautiful goatee...was blonde.

He spun round and the rest of the guys in the room cracked up laughing. Steve had his head thrown back, right hand clutching at his chest as Katie wiped tears from her face whilst Natasha doubled over on her seat. Besides her Clint slapped his thigh, his chuckles loud.

“What…how…” Tony spluttered, looking again at his reflection, before he glared back at the group.

“Slipped a little peroxide in your beard oil…” Katie managed to stutter between laughs, Thor’s loud rumbles continued, punctuated every now and then by a snort from Banner.

“JARVIS!” Tony roared “I told you to tell me if anyone went into my office, or the garage, or anywhere in the tower messing with my stuff…” "I take zero responsibility for this...sir” The AI responded “And I believe your instruction was to alert you if anyone entered your office or the garage or anywhere in the tower and messed with your equipment. Technically Miss Stark didn't touch your equipment, only your Male grooming product. I believe they exploited a loophole.” That made the group laugh even harder as Tony went bright red, spluttering obscenities at JARVIS. Eventually he calmed down and sighed, before he glanced at his sister.

“You know I’m almost proud…” he said, shaking his head. “Almost…”

Katie gave him a wink in response. “You know what they say…you can’t kid a kidder, or in this case Kiddo…”

Tony gave a groan which turned into a resigned chuckle. He could always dye it back...

Yes, April Fools’ day was still Tony Stark’s favourite time of year.

@the-omni-princess​  @momobaby227​ @geekofmanythings16​ @angelofhell-666​ @thewackywriter​ @marvelfansworld​​  @cobalt-gear​  @asgardlover75​ @jennmurawski13​​​  @jtargaryen18​​ @saiyanprincessswanie​​  @navispalace​​ @patzammit​​  @joannaliceevans-fanficblog​​  @icanfeelastormbrewing​​ @djeniiscorner​​  @ayamenimthiriel​​  @coldmuffinbanditshoe​​  @disneylovingal​​ @madzmilllz​  @sgtjaamesbaarnes​

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He is someone we don’t see happening. Still, Brie Larson’s resume is impressive. The actress has been playing on TV and film sets since she was 11 years old. One of those confused with Swedish player Alicia Vikander (Tomb Raider) won an Oscar in 2016. She was the first Marvel movie star with a female leader. . And soon, he will play a CIA agent in a movies commissioned by Apple for his future platform. The movies he produced together. Unknown to the general public in 2016, this “neighbor girl” won an Academy Award for best actress for her poignant appearance in the “Room”, the true story of a wo who was exiled with her child by predators. He had overtaken Cate Blanchett and Jennifer Lawrence, both of them had Godzilla vs. Kong (2021) out of statues, but also Charlotte Rampling and Saoirse Ronan. Watch Godzilla vs. Kong (2021) Movie Online Blu-rayor Bluray rips directly from Blu-ray discs to 1080p or 720p (depending on source), and uses the x264 codec. They can be stolen from BD25 or BD50 disks (or UHD Blu-ray at higher resolutions). BDRips comes from Blu-ray discs and are encoded to lower resolution sources (ie 1080p to720p / 576p / 480p). BRRip is a video that has been encoded at HD resolution (usually 1080p) which is then transcribed to SD resolution. Watch Godzilla vs. Kong (2021) The BD / BRRip Movie in DVDRip resolution looks better, however, because the encoding is from a higher quality source. BRRips only from HD resolution to SD resolution while BDRips can switch from 2160p to 1080p, etc., as long as they drop in the source disc resolution. Watch Godzilla vs. Kong (2021) Movie Full BDRip is not transcode and can move down for encryption, but BRRip can only go down to SD resolution because they are transcribed. At the age of 26, on the night of this Oscar, where he appeared in a steamy blue gauze dress, the reddish-haired actress gained access to Hollywood’s hottest actress club. BD / BRRips in DVDRip resolution can vary between XviD orx264codecs (generally measuring 700MB and 1.5GB and the size of DVD5 or DVD9: 4.5GB or 8.4GB) which is larger, the size fluctuates depending on the length and quality of release, but increasingly the higher the size, the more likely they are to use the x264 codec. With its classic and secret beauty, this Californian from Sacramento has won the Summit. He was seen on “21 Jump Street” with Channing Tatum, and “Crazy Amy” by Judd Apatow. And against more prominent actresses like Jennifer Lawrence, Gal Gadot or Scarlett Johansson, Brie Larson signed a seven-contract deal with Marvel. There is nothing like that with Watch The Curse of La Llorona Free Online, which is signed mainly by women. And it feels. When he’s not in a combination of full-featured superheroes, Carol Danvers Godzilla vs. Kong (2021) Nirvana as Godzilla vs. Kong (2021) anti-erotic as possible and proves to be very independent. This is even the key to his strength: if the super hero is so unique, we are told, it is thanks to his ability since childhood, despite being ridiculed masculine, to stand alone. Too bad it’s not enough to make a film that stands up completely … Errors in scenarios and realization are complicated and impossible to be inspired. There is no sequence of actions that are truly shocking and actress Brie Larson failed to make her character charming. Spending his time displaying scorn and ridicule, his courageous attitude continually weakens empathy and prevents the audience from shuddering at the danger and changes facing the hero. Too bad, because the tape offers very good things to the person including the red cat and young Nick Fury and both eyes (the film took place in the 1990s). In this case, if Samuel Jackson’s rejuvenation by digital technology is impressive, the illusion is only for his face. Once the actor moves or starts the sequence of actions, the stiffness of his movements is clear and reminds of his true age. Details but it shows that digital is fortunately still at a limit. As for Goose, the cat, we will not say more about his role not to “express”. Already the 21st film for stable Marvel Cinema was launched 10 years ago, and while waiting for the sequel to The 100 Season 6 Movie war infinity (The 100 Season 6 Movie, released April 24 home), this new work is a suitable drink but struggles to hold back for the body and to be really refreshing. Let’s hope that following the adventures of the strongest heroes, Marvel aged to increase levels and prove better.

[favescandis]

ICON Magazine: Cover Story: Million Dollar Bill (By Jessica Bailey)

Bill Skarsgård returns as the big-headed, balloon-toting demonic clown in IT Chapter Two. ICON sits down with the next big actor in Hollywood

NEW YORK CITY: Bill Skarsgård is talking me through how he mastered the sinister, bone-chilling laugh of Stephen King’s evil clown, Pennywise, in horror film It Chapter Two. “I wanted the laugh to sound like someone who is having a panic attack and is almost about to cry,” the 29-year-old Swedish actor explains. Suddenly, he begins cackling, his tall frame – which was seconds before slumped in his chair in the hotel room – rises and his eyes become so intense and fixated on something imaginary on the grey carpet between us. His voice is shaky, crackly, almost gasping for air. You feel like he could either lunge at you or burst into a million pieces at any given moment. It’s scary. “Even doing it out loud evokes a kind of unsettling feeling in myself,” Skarsgård says coming back to reality. “I kind of like it.”

Theatrical, serious and intelligent. It’s fascinating watching the actor come in and out of character; it seems as simple as flicking a light switch on and off. But Skarsgård insists the actual process on the It set – of which he, the human, disappears underneath layers of prosthetics – took more work than what I’d just witnessed. “I would scream and laugh hysterically before takes and reach a certain level of adrenaline to help me get into character for the scene,” he explains. By his own admission, Pennywise was by far the most physically and mentally draining character Skarsgård has played. But when I tell him I can’t seem to un-see Pennywise when I look at him, he almost shudders with distaste. “You see Pennywise in me?” he asks. “I think this is the first time anybody has said that. I don’t like to think too much about being associated with a murderous clown. I thought the makeup was my mask.”

While the wheedling and lethal villain is Skarsgård’s most notable role to date – and he’s brilliant in it, by the way – you might also recognise him from the 2017 mystery thriller Atomic Blonde (with Charlize Theron), the 2016 sci-fi film The Divergent Series: Allegiant (with Shailene Woodley) or Netflix’s supernatural drama Hemlock Grove. The actor has a slew of upcoming films, too, including thriller The Devil All the Time with fellow heartthrobs Robert Pattinson and Tom Holland, and drama Nine Days will see him return to fantastical fare alongside up-and-comer Zazie Beetz. To answer the obvious question, yes.

Skarsgård is related to 43-year-old Alexander Skarsgård, who is his older brother and is best known for his roles in True Blood and Big Little Lies. Both grew up in Stockholm in a family of 10, in which four of the eight children became actors. Their father, Stellan, is also a very famous actor in Sweden and starred as Professor Gerald Lambeau in Good Will Hunting. Post his ICON cover shoot in TriBeCa, NYC, we give the younger Skarsgård some pennies for his thoughts. Here, he discusses his titular character and the vast differences between his native Sweden, where no one locked the doors, and Hollywood, where men in clown makeup is a normal sight on the main strip.

ICON: Unlike Joaquin Phoenix’s Joker – an unhinged man in clown makeup – you essentially had to get inside the head of an evil and maniacal thing. How did you prepare for this role?

SKARSGÅRD: In a way, it’s even more abstract getting into the head of a madman because he’s not a man, he’s a thing. He’s a creature, an entity, so we had to come up with what the rules were for the character or the creature and then kind of humanise it in a way for me to be able to relate to it. He’s kind of the embodiment of evil – everything that’s nasty in people, he is. He’s a bully, he thrives off pain and fear and he’s mean. I used to draw on animals as a reference point a lot, like Jaws. The shark in Jaws is a monster, but it’s an animal. It’s going out trying to eat humans because it’s hungry and that element is in Pennywise as well; he’s hungry and he needs to feed. But what makes him evil and sinister is him taking pleasure out of feeding or pleasure of frightening and tormenting young children. In the first movie, the kids would cry and he would mock the kids crying and I thought that was like pretty much as evil as it gets, when you’re not only making a kid cry but you’re enjoying the fact that you’re making a kid cry. There are those people in the real world who are that bad, but I kind of wanted to go through the character mentally and think, “What is the most monstrous and evil thing I can think of?” and those things kind of came to mind.

ICON: Did you look to other famous clowns in history at all?

SKARSGÅRD: Not really. I watched Bozo The Clown and Ronald McDonald a little bit. There’s kind of a few of those iconic clowns, but the thing we didn’t want to do too much, or at least my entry way into the character, was not make him like this [makes goofy noises] doo-di-doo clown kind of a thing. Because I wanted Pennywise to have this really off thing about him. Also, Tim Curry’s clown [he portrayed Pennywise in the 1990 TV adaptation of King’s novel It) was very much more this villain, old-timey clown. That type of performance was great, but we wanted to do something different for this version. I didn’t go too far into the studying of a clown’s mimicry, but I took little pieces of what I liked and incorporated it into Pennywise.

ICON: At the time of your It audition, you lived with housemates and couldn’t practise Pennywise’s evil laugh in the house, so you had to do it in the car on the way to the audition. Tell me about that drive – in full clown makeup. Were people staring?

SKARSGÅRD: [Laughs] Yeah, that was for the callback audition. I had a version of what became his laugh pretty early on. I wanted it to sound like someone having a panic attack and it’s almost about to be a cry. That amplified became the laugh. Like it’s not someone who’s happy, it’s someone who maybe is miserable and almost having a crazy panic attack with its laugh. Even doing it out loud evokes a kind of unsettling feeling in myself that I kind of liked. But, yeah, I was driving around with this kind of basic clown makeup on and was just trying screams and laughs and everything. If it were recorded, it would have almost been a cliché of an actor’s life in Hollywood; it was so ridiculous. Going to the audition, there was only street parking, so I had to park the car and walk my way into the casting director’s office, which is right by Hollywood Boulevard, so there were construction workers out the front. When they looked at me, they didn’t even flinch. That’s just what Hollywood is, I guess. It’s like, “There’s a man walking around with a clown face laughing to himself” [laughs].

ICON: What was your experience like when you first came to Hollywood? Were there stray clowns?

SKARSGÅRD: I came to LA for the first time when I was seven years old and then again when I was 10. I’ve been travelling there since I was fairly young because of my dad, who would shoot movies out here as well. I don’t remember my perception of LA very much – I liked the weather, I liked the mall, the Beverly Center was the coolest thing ever. You know, Footlocker! At that time, you could get sneakers in America that you definitely couldn’t get in Sweden. I had all the Nike out fits.

ICON: Your brother Alexander has said he’s not a method actor when he takes on dark and dramatic roles. Are you a method actor?

SKARSGÅRD: No, I don’t need to stay in character. That approach doesn’t make sense for me. But everyone has different ways of reaching what they need to reach and I’m definitely not method, but I have my own methods. With Pennywise, it was less about character and more about the energy. You need to find a state of energy that is true for the scene that you’re playing. So say you’re doing a really emotional scene, you need to find that energy or that chemical in your body – which is all it is to me at least – and when you trigger it, tears can start. A talented actor can trigger it chemically. In your body you feel like you’re about to start crying, you make yourself start crying and it’s a chemical reaction to it, you feel it in your body. You need to reach that place before you go into the scene and that’s the sort of method that I work with.

ICON: How did this method work with Pennywise?

SKARSGÅRD: He was a very particular kind of character. He’s always so expressive and energetic. I would scream and laugh hysterically before takes and reach a certain level of adrenaline to help me get into character for the scene.

ICON: We’ve seen dark characters get to actors before. Australian actor Heath Ledger and his iconic role as the Joker – and his clown-like villain – is an extreme example of this. How do you get out of that Pennywise headspace when you arrive home at night?

SKARSGÅRD: I also heard it’s kind of a misconception; that’s a romantic idea that Heath died of the Joker performance. From all accounts I’ve heard, he really enjoyed it and he wasn’t method either.

ICON: He reportedly was very immersed in the character…

SKARSGÅRD: Oh, completely, but from actors who worked with him on the set, they were like, “He would talk about his daughter.” We have this romantic idea that “Oh, this man, he went crazy or he went to the darkest place ever and he couldn’t figure his way out.” As the public, we like those types of stories and sometimes they’re true and sometimes actors fabricate that truth in order for them to seem a little bit more remarkable. So you talk about his or her performance as, “Oh, they did all these things,” and that’s what made it so great. Sometimes I feel like some actors maybe want to feel a little bit extra special in that regard. If I go and I have a very particular type of scene, like if I’m hurting someone or if I’m being awful, that doesn’t feel good afterwards. I think the worst is not like a character like Pennywise or those kinds of villainous roles – they’re dark but they’re fun, the character enjoys what they’re doing – the characters that will really get to you are the characters that are depressed or inflicted by pain. Say you play someone who is so depressed that they are about to commit suicide. Like, if that is your day, every day going into that mindset, you’re not going to be a happy person, because your character is not happy.

ICON: Pennywise though…

SKARSGÅRD: Pennywise is enjoying what he is doing, and in the same way Joker is as well; they’re dark but they’re enjoying it. You’re playing a character who enjoys the darkness, so that is what you have to access, and you don’t have to access the lack of self-worth or characters who are paranoid or in their own head and stuff like that. There is a movie that I’m about to start doing and you read the character and he’s very unlikeable: paranoid, insecure, a pathological liar, mentally ill. As a result, he goes into this kind of schizophrenic state. I read that script and I was like, “This is going to be really, really tough for me to do. I’m going to feel like shit doing it because it’s a character who’s losing his mind throughout the whole movie.” That is the state I have to go into, so when I’m coming home from work and I’ve been in that mental state, I think those things will affect how you feel during the production of the film.

ICON: Some creepy things went down in Derry, Maine. You’re from Stockholm in Sweden – what was it like growing up there and in a household with, like, a million people?

SKARSGÅRD: It was great. Stockholm is a wonderful place for a kid. I grew up in what would be called an extremely gentrified neighbourhood, but it used to be a working class neighbourhood. It was very bohemian and we went to school with immigrants and people from different places around the world. It felt like a very diverse upbringing – at least compared to a place like LA, which is the most secluded, segregated place there is. So Stockholm was wonderful in the way that you were exposed to all these different cultures and people. You could attend different classes and we were all just going to the same schools, there were no private schools or none of that. I’m extremely happy that that was my background. It’s healthy for kids to be exposed to all of that, and my family – a big, big family – our home was always the home that you would bring your friends to. That was true for all of our siblings. Sometimes there would be like 10-15 kids hanging out in our rooms, because our parents very much had an open- door policy – nobody knocked and we never locked the doors. Everybody just walked in and out – it was a big party.

It Chapter Two is in Australian cinemas now.

Photography: Michael Schwartz Styling: Bill Mullen

https://icon.ink/articles/bill-skarsgard-pennywise-it-chapter-two-interview/

https://icon.ink/fashion-shoot/million-dollar-bill-skarsgard-tribesandtribulations-cover-photoshoot/

[the-daily-tizzy]

White America Cancelled .....a truthful July4th Message

Hi White American, You Have Been Cancelled

Paul Craig Roberts

Think about this on July 4th. 

White Americans have not only lost the independence they gained in 1776, they have lost the protection of law.

 White Americans are no longer “equal under the law.”

No white American can criticize a black or stand up to a black’s abuse of his/her person without the risk of job loss and prosecution by government authorities. 

White Americans pay for their servitude with subsidies to their oppressors, only it is a worse servitude in the 21st century than white Americans experienced under the British King in the 18th century.

No one speaks for white people.  

There are no white organizations attending to the rights of people who have white skin. 

ONLY White People suffer racial discrimination. 

Whites are banned from “go-to-the-head-of-the-line” for university admissions, jobs, promotions. 

The Civil Rights Act does not protect white people.  

The only white people who get media support are the ones who denounce their fellow whites as racists.  

The white supremacy militias are more hype than real. 

Wherever white men appear armed, they always submit to the authorities sent to disarm and arrest them. 

They never fight.  

After being subjected to decades of demonization, white people have lost their strength. 

They have become wet paper bags. 

Anyone can walk through them. 

And the neoconservatives think the US can go to war with real people like Russians, Chinese, North Koreans, Iranians. 

What a joke we are.  

No strength remains, and people of color see it. 

Whites and their civilization are denounced in every White University.

Indeed, the main function of white American universities is to demonize white civilization.  

Jean Raspail describes white self-destruction in The Camp of the Saints, and insouciant white Americans are today precisely as gullible and unaware as the French people in Raspail’s novel. (I checked Amazon for a Kindle edition & ironically - it is "under review" !!)  

The vast majority of white people in America have no idea that government at the state, local, and federal level is engaged in demonizing and marginalizing them. 

There is no organization, no media to tell them. 

If there were one, it would be closed down as racist, Nazi, fascist, whatever word or term demonizes the most. 

It would not be permitted on Facebook, twitter, Google or anywhere else.

Outspoken white people speak for blacks, not for whites.

They are enraged against white people, not against blacks.

White people no longer have a voice unless it is raised in adoration of “People of Color.”  

Once the white liberals complete their debasement of themselves and the rest of us, their voice will no longer be needed. 

As they are themselves white, they are evil also, and will suffer the same fate as the rest of us. 

All of their pandering to blacks will do them no more good than it did for the French panderers of the invading third world horde  in Raspail’s novel.

When the seeds of hate are sowed, you reap the consequences. 

Whites are evil period.

Thus, Ulysses S. Grant’s statue was pulled down by thugs so ignorant they do not even know who he was.  All they see is a statue of a white person. That is enough for them to know that the racist bastard has to go.

The American white media is too brainwashed and stupid to understand what this means for them. What is happening today in the US is perfectly mirrored in Jean Raspail’s 1970s novel, The Camp of the Saints.  We are living the novel as I write.

It is the same all over the Western White World. 

In Sweden ethnic Swedish women are raped by black immigrant-invaders in public, and the ethnic Swedish men do nothing.  Either they accept white guilt or they fear being prosecuted for a racist crime if they intervene. Indeed, I have reported previously from the Swedish press that not only are a large percentage of ethnic Swedish women afraid to leave their homes, they fear being prosecuted for a hate crime if they report their rape or gang rape by a black immigrant invader or invaders.None of what really is happening is reported in the Western media, which is complicit in the crimes against white people.  How is it privileged for a white Swedish woman to be publicly raped and be afraid of reporting her rape to Swedish authorities? Swedish police who have reported that almost all rapes in Sweden are committed by black immigrant-invaders have been suspended and investigated for racism.

If White Americans had any self-respect and any awareness of how they are being set up for dispossession,  the presstitute media and many politicians would be in danger of being lynched. 

Antifa thugs would be prosecuted and imprisoned. 

Recognizing one’s enemies and destroying them before they destroy you is the way those societies that have survived managed to do so. 

No country in the Western World is any longer one of those capable of survival.  All of the foreign policy talk of how the US is going to confront Russia, China, Iran, North Korea is ridiculous.

The United States is incapable of confronting its own self-inflicted demise.

White Americans no longer have the capability to resist.

Washington can bomb faraway peoples, but is incapable of protecting public monuments and private property on its home ground. 

White Americans, indeed whites everywhere, are more endangered than the climate or any other species. 

And they are too indoctrinated with guilt to know it.

Read more at: PaulCraigRoberts.org

[sveasauvageon]

HSWW ROUND I STORY

I never gave it a neat title, oops.  Svea Year I + Pre-Seventh Year Midsummer Celebrations {HSWW}

─═Featured HSWW/Polyvore Era not-mein oc’s═─

Eloise Avery | @.themadmonarchist

(also mentioned Lord and Lady Avery, but they don't appear)

Syn Lothbrok | @.ghostpastey

Hvitty Lothbrok | @.ghostpastey

Entire Lothbrok Family (too many to name individually)

Damien Greaves | @.natasha-maree13

Tyler Lee | @.maybones (lol, I originally typed @minahbones)

Minah Kwon Delacroix | @.maybones

Tara Lee (I couldn't leave out Little T from this nutty dance) | @.maybones

Theo Nott | @.themadmonarchist

Moses Park Jr | @.koby

Lyra Greaves | @.natasha-maree13

Oberon Greaves | @.natasha-maree13

Henry Clark | @.lady-stoneheart

Xander Carlyle (I think I've been listing him as clark all this time, whoops) | @.lady-stoneheart

Sungjae Lee | @.chrissykinz

Loralei Expura | @.thespian-at-large

Lyrae Mino | @.skyfalll

──════𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑹𝒀════──

Up in the northwest quarters of the Sauvageon Estate, Svea was braiding her young sister's hair with little bells and complex knots. Khalessi style? Yes, obviously. The show is garbage, but is visually stunning. Also the music. Back to point, as the elder heir wove in the little bells, Lili enthusiastically recounted her first year at Koldovstoretz; her classes, teachers, friends, and her first Russian Quidditch game where they play on entire uprooted trees instead of brooms (A/N: true fact, look it up on the wikia).

Her ardor and excitement made Svea nostalgic of her own first year. Her letter had arrived at the Prince Manor in Cornwall, where she had been staying for a year. The darkest year in her life she may add. The arrival of the letter was nothing special or shocking, there certainly wasn't any doubt about her having magic after she had set the manor on fire. Though, she did note a mild expression of relief on her grandfather's face, presumably he was pleased she'd be out of his house soon. And she was pleased about that too, the Prince Manor was dark, dreary, and drab, and they refused to allow Aunt Brigitta to remodel it after the fire. Svea never understood why they insisted it be restored as it was, the poor interiors were what she called "discount gothic", it was nothing like the true majesty of actual gothic architecture.

Anyway, decidedly pleased her time with the Prince's was nearing its end, Svea was positively beaming when she went to King's Cross Station on September the first. She was accompanied by her aunt and step-mother, the later of whom had apparated to London the day before, much to the displeasure of Svea's mother, who also accompanied them to King's Cross. Svea questioned her mother's instructions of walking into a wall, part of her believing that it may just be some kind of trick to humiliate the "foreigners", as she so often called Svea and her paternal family. However, the Prince simply huffed in annoyance, glaring at the odd silvery-gold colour Iliana had died the little girl's hair, before briskly walking through the wall first herself, with Svea, Iliana, and Brigitta quickly following thereafter. 

Svea had barely a moment to admire the victorian vibe of the station before her mother pulled her aside. "Richelle, ensure that you're sorted into Slytherin, and try not to do anything to disgrace the Prince name." she commanded, disappearing with a loud crack before Svea could retort. Sighing to herself, she made a mental note to send a howler reminding her mother that her name is Svea Sauvageon, not Richelle Prince, before reuniting with her aunt and step-mother, who were overseeing the loading of her luggage.

She spotted Eloise Avery looking out a window on the train, but she was looking in another direction and didn't notice Svea, not that she wanted to catch her attention when her grandparents were around. If they were around that is, one short playdate and tales of admiration from her own grandfather was enough to cement a cold and unloving image in Svea's head. She shuddered at the memory, she was grateful beyond word that her grandparents were nothing like that. Well, her Sauvageon grandparents. It's a safe bet that all Grandfather Marcius aspires to be is a slightly less rich and more grumbling version of the "great and powerful" Lady Avery.

Pushing those thoughts to the back of her mind, Svea hugged Iliana and Aunt Brigitta goodbye, promising to write and look after herself, before quickly boarding the train to find an empty compartment to save for herself, Syn, and Hvitty. The Lothbroks were amongst their closest wizarding friends in Scandinavia and practically family to Svea, she was pleased beyond measure to have her best friend at this far away school too. She'd always been fairly independent, but having familiar faces at Hogwarts would be a great comfort too, and endless fun. No one knows how to enjoy things like a Lothbrok. Okay, like Syn. No one knows how to party like Syn. Even at 11, she was more fun and energetic than anyone you could think of.

She waited by the window until she spotted them getting on, before rushing to the corridor to call them over. The subsequent assault (as she would put it, they might just call it a hug) nearly took Svea's head off. Grinning at being reunited, they chatted throughout the train ride, and purchased ridiculous amounts of British Wizarding Treats when the Trolley lady stopped by. They also met some other first years as well, some of whom, Svea noted, were less than pleased to be in such a rowdy compartment.

Once they neared the school (or as Svea's alarms warned her they were), she changed into her school robes, dragging along Syn to do the same who complained that they were "nowhere near there yet". However, exactly as her alarm warned her, they were at Hogsmeade station within 30 minutes. ("hah! Told you so Tamsyn", she screamed internally and definitely not with every fibre of her being). Seperating from the others, Svea, Syn, and Hvitty disembarked from the train together, where they and the other first years were greeted by a staff member from Hogwarts who led them to a number of boats. Grabbing a boat upfront, they were joined by Henry Clark, whom they had met on the train and whom Syn had immediately given the nickname "Hank", which he seemed to vehemently dislike. Once they had all boarded, the boat seemed to propel themselves as they all sailed across the vast lake. The Black Lake, she recalled it was called. Her cousin Viggo often talked about visiting it one day.

"Vig told me that there's a colony of merpeople living in the lake." Svea excitedly mentioned to Syn and Hvitty as they crossed, gazing down into the murky water to try to spot one.

"Fishman would know." replied Syn, joining Svea to look over the edge of the boat.

"He's not a Fishman."

"As always, you're right." said Syn, nodding solemnly before adding, "He's a half-fishman."

"Well, you're not wrong there," Svea conceded.

Syn grinned triumphantly as Svea dipped her fingers into the water. It was cold, just as Vig told her it would be, but it wasn't as cold as the water in Lake Mälaren.

Despite having been raised in marble coated mansions, even Svea was awestruck when they neared Hogwarts Castle. Whilst Sauvageon Slott was certainly brighter, the large stone structure was absolutely stunning, and far more inviting than her father and family's descriptions of Durmstrang. As much as she loathed her mother's family, she was glad just this once at their persistence of doing things the "English" way. The little boats they were in soon passed through an ivy curtain and carried them along a dark tunnel, which seemed to run beneath the castle itself, and eventually docked by some rocks at what seemed to be an underground harbour of sorts. 

Once all the students were out of the boats they were led to a small room (the Chamber of Reception, she later learned it was called), where they were greeted by a tall, red haired woman. She introduced herself as Professor Hester Weasley, Deputy Headmistress. She ushered them into the Great Hall and began reading their names out one by one in alphabetical order. Once called, they were to sit on a stool facing the other students and had a dingy old hat placed on their head which would announce what house they're to join after thinking about it for a bit. It might be a magic, talking, singing hat, but the whole process seemed unnecessarily drawn out and somewhat silly to Svea. She was fairly certain it was thought up by someone forest crazy (Swedish phrase, equivalent to "raging mad").

Svea's was amongst the last few names to be called. Hvitty went off to Gryffindor, and Syn to Hufflepuff. Eloise went to Slytherin, whilst Hank (*wink-wink* @.ghostpastey) went to Gryffindor. She noted that the hat had barely gotten within a foot of Damien Greaves' head before it screamed Slytherin. When the Headmistress finally said her name, Svea tottered up to the little stool, starving by that point and eager to get on with dinner and classes in the morning.

"Impatient, aren't we?" said a voice in her head once the hat was on, 'causing Svea to nearly jump out of her skin. She didn't realize it was talking during those minutes in-between the hat being worn and shouting the student's house.

"I'm hungry," she replied, well, thought, once she had brought her spikes down (Swedish phrase effectively meaning to "chill" -shrug emoji- Sweden is weird, also, awesome). "Any recommendations on what's good?"

The hat chucked in her ear, mind's ear. "Try the steak and yorkshire pudding," her mouth began watering at steak, she needed it now. "I'll try to be quick then. Swedish I see, muggle friends, oh dear, the ministry won't be happy about that breach of secrecy," the hat muttered as it rummaged through her mind.

Svea shrugged. "Not my ministry. Can you hurry it up, I don't really care, but I would prefer not Slytherin."

"Not Slytherin, eh? And why is that?"

"To infuriate my mother."

"But I see you also have the desire to be in Slytherin to outshine her and your grandfather, quite petty, no?"

"Yes, but I am only 10."

"Then would you prefer to be petty? I see great things for you in Ravenclaw, where those of wit and learning find their own kind. You have a great thirst for knowledge."

Svea shrugged again. "Whatever magic hat, isn't it your job to figure that out?"

The sorting hat sighed. "SLYTHERIN!" it shouted aloud, applause erupting on the table to her far right. The hat was barely off her head before she practically bounded over. She was so hungry and there were only a handful of students left to be sorted before she could finally eat. She ended up next to a third year and the speedily sorted boy from earlier. 

"Svea," she said, introducing herself with a smile as another students sorting began. 

"Damien," he gruffly replied.

"You shouldn't look so murderous, you're 11." She chided, impatiently tapping her foot whilst the last children were finally being sorted.

Damien rolled his eyes. "What if I am one?"

"Then you shouldn't be broadcasting that desire to everyone. Isn’t a killer best served if their intentions are secretive?" before he could retort, however, Svea's attention turned elsewhere. Specifically, their table. "OH YES! FINALLY FOOD! Hey, can you grab me some steak please!" she asked of the boy in front of them. "I'm Svea, by the way. You want one too Damien?"

"I can get it myself, thanks," muttered the British boy, looking quite irritated.

"Seyong Lee, but you can call me Tyler." answered the other one, placing a steak on Svea's plate as well as Damien's.

Once the feast was over (the hat was right about that Steak and Yorkshire Pudding), the Headmistress said a few words, mostly about forbidden places, Svea could feel none of those warnings making it into Syn's ears, and led the school in a rendition of the school song. She noticed some seven years really giving the song their all, and nearly toppled over with laughter. After the song finally ended, Svea and the other first year Slytherins were instructed to follow one of their House Prefects. Svea couldn't remember their name, but recalled them being one of those English Scared 28 people. They followed the prefect back out to the Entrance Hall, and through a door on the right, were led down to the dungeons. When they reached a bare stretch of stonewall, the prefect uttered a phrase and it revealed a passageway which led to the Slytherin common room. The password that month, if she recalled correctly, was "cantankerus".

Svea was less in love with the common room than most of her fellow first years, it was nice enough, but rather dark and dreary, much like the Prince Manor she noted. It had similar colourings of dark shades of green and serpentine décor everywhere (if it were up to her, she'd decorate it with dragons). She did, however, adore the large glass windows, and the water behind it, rushing up to it in excitement when a large squid went swishing by. The prefect explained that they were under the Black Lake and sometimes they saw creatures more interesting than the Giant Squid swim by the windows. 

The first night would've ended without incident, but her future bestie just had to be dramatic and get into a physical fight with a seventh year.

"Well, that was dramatic," she commented once the seventh year fell to the floor. "Anyway, where's our stuff and where do we sleep?" Looking back, it was probably impressive that an 11 year old could easily defeat a 17 year old, but meh. She was tired, and she really needed her phone. How can you expect someone to sleep without the honey smooth voices of Eurovision performers?

The year went by quite quickly. Her hair only remained valyrian silver for about a month, before reverting back to her natural gold, and as expected, she ended all her classes with top marks. She enjoyed History of Magic and Potions the most in her first year. Whilst mostly a positive year, she did make some pureblood fervent enemies, but she is not going allow such idioticy to stand in her house. Slytherins are intelligent and cunning, not backwards morons. She recalled Syn dropping out of the sky at point to defend her from a pureblood's oh so hurtful words. But as they say, sticks and stones may break my bones, but words from an idiot do nothing. It was also the first year she celebrated her birthday without her biological family (not including either of the Princes'), she did, however, still have Syn and Hvitty, and a whole new bunch of friends.

Speaking of said friends, time to pull out of memory lane and jump back into the present. With Lili's hair done, and hers' also, once again, done up in Khalessi style (also dyed silver again, she would've dyed Lili's hair too, but the little Swede-Ruski said no), anyway, with their hair finally done, the two siblings went down into the courtyard. The entire Sauvageon estate was decorated in greenery as they were celebrating Midsummer, and before the traditional Sauvageon ball in the evening, they had invited a bunch of friends (mainly Svea's and some of Lili's new friends) to participate in the traditional maypole dance. The Lothbroks, of course, always came along, Norway celebrated Midsummer too, though with a bonfire instead of dancing around a maypole, so weird (that's sarcastic, Sweden is obvs the weirdo here). Minah, and Eloise, and Damien, of course, came along, well, the latter two of whom had to be somewhat dragged along, Eloise on the excuse of "observing" the activities of "lesser" beings. And where went M and E, always came T and T, aka Tyler and Theo or as Svea called the three of them, very much without their permission, zaldrīzes raqiror (translation: dragon friends). Moses and Lyrae had also come, and so had Henry, of course, what kind of awful girlfriend would forget to invite her "paramour" (as Svea preferred labelling him). Numerous adorable siblings had come along as well, Xander Carlyle (who would like to clarify he's Henry's cousin, not brother), Tara Lee, forever shipping Minah with the wrong person; it’s Minah and Tyler forever, not Minah and Sungjae (sorry buddy), whom, by the way, was also invited and showed up. Even Lyra and Oberon Greaves had come along, though they were decidedly less comfortable around Svea and Damien. Also somewhat uncomfortable was Loralei Expura, but as Svea explained, in Sweden, you just eat good food, hold hands, and dance in a circle around a weird pole for some reason. 

---Post-credit scene with the zaldrīzes raqiror---

Theo: *leaning up against a tree* I'm not doing that.

Tyler: come on, it looks fun.

Theo: I don't remember asking for your opinion.

Tyler: you're lucky to have been graced with it.

Svea: *suddenly apparates to where they are* Just shut up and hold hands already, you're killing the vibe!

[mindseyeinkarnate]

Portraits of a Serial Killer - “The Cell” turns 20

I've often reflected how the influence of Art is a key component missing from Modern Horror. The Xenomorph we all know and fear came from the painted nightmares of Swedish surrealist H.R. Giger, the Screamer is said to have influenced the Ghostface Killer mask.  For a further rundown of art's musings over the genre, I would highly recommend 2017's Tableaux Vivants for a look at 60 such portraits and the films they inspired.

In the summer of 2020, The Medium video game appears to correct that oversight with the recent trailer dropping, adapting Polish painter, Zdzislaw Beksinski's frightening paintings.  In the same season of the same year is when The Cell celebrates 20 years (8/17/2020).  This film appeared to feature as many artistic influences as possible into its near two hour runtime.

The sight of chains freaked me out upon watching my first Hellraiser movie, so the sexual perversion of their use in this film did little to alleviate such apprehension, especially as they pulled so tightly to suspend human flesh in the air. Despite a previous scene showing the villain having drowned his victim, this was the true introduction to his villainy - the former showed what he did, that latter why he did it.  Even re-watching this film so many years later, I had to look away from the screen, recoiling from such a grisly display.

Typically, in Horror or any film that assumes a particular aesthetic, it is color that makes the impression to set mood.  Instead, the use of white in this film, from the K9 to the bleached state of the victims is used to ghoulishly haunting effect.

I remember critics remarking that because of Vince Vaughn's comedic history they couldn't take him seriously in this role and relegated his involvement to stunt casting. I take the opposite stance since, for me, every role after this film simply serves as a reminder that he starred in The Cell.  I've always felt that comedy actors do well in dramas - see Robin Williams in "Good Will Hunting" - and I thought that Vaughn did a serviceable job in this film, never distracting from either tone or plot.

I was happy that they just dove into the mechanics behind entering one's mind as an accepted reality, that they didn't get bogged down in techno babble or exposition of the technology.  There is a time and place for the virtual journey into the cerebral frontier, such as The Matrix or a good adaptation of the Lawnmower Man, but for the Cell, I'm happy that they focused more on the story and not so much the science.  The suits do look like Twizzlers, but it was made by Eioka Ishioka (who passed away in 2012), the same costume designer as Vlad Tepes' suit from Bram Stoker's Dracula.  I do like that the two participators are suspended in the air while their minds are linked.  It's an eerie callback to the killer's suspension from chains for sexual release. Also, it does give the technology that space age feel as though they are in a weightless environment.

Since the 90's, special effects have been criticized as dominating films to the point Stephen King is quoted as remarking that "story supports effects instead of effects supporting story". Similarly, an argument can be made that at times The Cell becomes too indulgent with its usage of famous art that serve no plot function, e.g. the Horse Split, the Three Women of Odd Nerdrum's Dawn painting, Mother Theresa and her Hallmark card, etc.  As the director is quoted as saying "The thing about this film is it’s an opera, and there is no such thing as a subtle opera.”  I don't believe that the script was penned as an excuse to pack in as much gallery portraits as possible or is an hour and fifty minutes of a music video.  I just wish the director would've used each art piece he seeks influence from to develop the story or the character.  The imagery doesn't always portray the killer's psychology or the psychologist's therapeutic technique.  If he wasn't going to utilize subtlety, he should have implored restraint.  He later added "Anyway, I missed the whole plot, just been talking visual all along, ah, where are we?”

Once in the killer's mind, his depiction as the master of his domain is a hauntingly accurate depiction considering the previous scenes of suspension rings in the back of his body, which unwittingly foreshadowed to the audience his royal appearance to come.  Even the name, King Stargher, is a daunting title for a movie monster.  When rising and descending from his throne, the violet robes receding from the walls and tracing along the room is hypnotically unnerving.

As tiresome as the "we're still in the dreamworld" trope can become (The Matrix, DS9 Season 7 episode 23 "Extreme Measures"), this film not only flips it when the psychologist realizes that she's "already in", but does so in a cleverly visual way.

King Stargher

Horned Stargher

Court Jester/Vatican Clown  

Serpent Stargher

It is interesting to think that a single actor would assume many distinct monstrous characters.  Unlike a Freddy Kreuger or a Pennywise that turn into manifestations of their victims' fears, the figures that Stargher assumes are all avatars of his own warped psyche, his own inner turmoil.  Vincent D'Onofrio really does put in his all with this role.  He's soft spoken and understated when he needs to be and malicious and heartless when the scene demands it.  Along with the visuals of the film, D'Onofrio's performance is worth the price of admission.  It's a shame that his acting as well as the movie's stunning artistry are what have gone overlooked all these years.  Speaking of...

One invalid criticism that has been levied against the film is its attempts to persuade the audience to sympathize with the killer.  My intention with the following statement is neither to flaunt my Horror insight nor to divide the lines between fans within Horror and those without.  Having said that, even as an adolescent seeing this movie in theaters, I at no point felt remorse for the serial murderer and I chalk up this long-held misconception to a bad read on the film.

So off-base is this "critical analysis" that it can't even be regarded as a Jekyll & Hyde dynamic.  The villain is not split down the middle between binary good and evil, where both halves are at war over his soul, or the repressed impulses of his Dark Passenger are manifesting in a heartless butcher.  If there is any distinction, it is between who the antagonist was when a victim as a boy and what the man became as an adult victimizer.  If anything it is the good that is repressed, not the evil.  Furthermore, along with using the film's plot to force Alice down the rabbit hole of the Mad Hatter's mind, this film does address the nature of evil.  When referring to Stargher, even Jennifer Lopez's character remarks "The Dominant side is still this horrible thing".  The Vince Vaughn detective states "I believe a child can experience 100 times worse the abuse than what Gish (a different killer) went through, and still grow up to be somebody that would never, ever, ever hurt another living being."  Thus, these serve as acknowledgement that the abducted criminal is firmly in the driver's seat to the point of its reference as a "thing" and a condemnation of what the killer has become, respectively.

Along with exploring the psychology of the killer, the film does not qualify the villain's innocence, it questions it.

The critics probably missed that pesky detail that would've debunked their headline before they pressed a single word of their denunciation.

These same professional critics wouldn't give a second's hesitation towards throwing Horror under the bus and condemning Scary Movies for inspiring violence if it meant their jobs were only the line, yet they would balk at the notion that continued mental trauma and physical abuse can cause psychopathic behavior.

There are classics and icons worth praising for their plot and performances, respectively, and then there are some Scary Films that Horror Fans view with the understanding of their heavy material and without your typical fanfare because they're a hard watch.  I can see where people would be fans of Hannibal Lecter not because they or the film glamorizes cannibalism, but because of Anthony Hopkins' acting chops (excuse the pun).  Conversely, John Doe, the serial killer of Se7en, has and will likely never enjoy such admiration because of the cold purity of his calculated evil.  The 2 decade critique of The Cell's villain portrayal is a dark cloud that has unjustly hung over its head.

The motif of "the eyes of a killer" was something applauded in Rob Zombie's Halloween 2, yet ridiculed in The Cell 9 years prior?

This film's premise and the fact that it wasn't fully effectively executed makes it primed for a remake.  Hollywood needs to be issued a Cease and Desist order of such wholesale dependence on Remakes in general, let alone in the Horror genre.  When you consider that so many remakes can't outdo the original and even tarnish the films they attempt to emulate, why not fix the problems of a film that went wrong and take the credit when you get it right?