#i think this is specifically from around the time when forever bad and maximus were all hanging out in dappers bar and it was very awkward

[oheck-trainwreck]

old drama trio piece because they're so problematic <3

[wifetomegatron]

thinking about how dratchet would be the best girl dads (fluff)

just imagine a first contact au where cybertron's beyond repair, and so whoever's left after the war has to migrate & reintegrate into earth society ( including the lost light crew ). And of course, the first thing drift does is adopt a human daughter.

ratchet was initially against it and didn't even want to entertain the idea. and yet, drift had signed himself up for a foster program (specifically catered to cybertronian conjuxes as part of an assimilation project.) he tells ratchet it's only temporary: a couple of months until she finds a forever home with someone else.

'they're not pets.' 'i know they're not.'

ratchet continues to firmly disagree. until he realizes he had no say in the matter, returning home one day to find her on drift's lap: ridiculously small in his arms even with the mass displacement. around drift were pamphlets, magazines, and datapads scattered open, detailing a step-by-step guide for 'first-time fathers'. the boxes of human groceries and soft, padded furniture scattered around the shared space showed ratchet that primus—drift was serious. and so the medic only sighed and joined cross-pedes on the floor, the corner of his mouth quirking up against his will when she squealed in delight. 

'i don't want to hurt her.' 'you won't. we won't.'

she's four and a half, wide-eyed and curious, just learning to speak her language. drift finds himself occupied: spending the mornings dropping her off and picking her up at daycare, while ratchet goes back and forth between overseeing relations in the local autobot facility and teaching at the local all-women's university — cybertronian medicine, to his surprise, was a popular choice of study. she makes a mess on the dinner table and refuses to eat her vegetables, arms crossed and pouting as she turns sharply away from her fathers. the once reluctant medic had to intervene, cleverly tricking the girl into a bargain: an extra hour of television time in exchange for three spoons. ratchet has to tell drift to stop smiling at him the entire night.

all of a sudden, she's ten and sitting on uncle rodimus's shoulders, smearing cupcake icing on the side of his cheek as he misspells her name with the frosting. the promise of 'a couple of months' was swept under the rug as ratchet hung a string of decorations, eavesdropping on the conversation drift was having with the mothers of the soon-to-arrive guests on the phone. the autobot facility wasn't the most ideal place to have a princess-themed birthday party, but the girls had a fun time decorating first aid and velocity with stickers — they were also fawning at fortress maximus's guns for legs, not that their mothers needed to know — and by the late afternoon, their daughter was already asleep against ratchet's shoulders. arms looped around his neck as she mumbled a chorus of sleepy thank yous. ( in that moment, whirl decided to topple glitter all over the table. and ratchet had to scrub for days to get every, single, glimmer out of his systems.)

then she's twelve, and that's when the chaos begins. the mood swings, the crying, the attitude — ratchet hated catching himself playing 'bad cop' while drift gets to be 'good cop': always the one putting his foot down while she runs to her other dad complaining. and suddenly, it all made sense when she and drift called him in the middle of his lecture, screaming over the phone about how she was bleeding. and her stomach hurts. and it's everywhere. his students stifled a laugh, smiling sweetly at the exchange. ratchet thanks years of experience with humans for teaching him to keep his composure. i'll stop by on my lunch break with pads. ratchet wasn't surprised to find that drift was the one in near hysteria, while she only seemed mildly disturbed — if not embarrassed. 

puberty is a monster, all teeth and fangs, stubborn and terrifying, unlike anything he has ever seen — that was saying something considering that he knows megatron — housing itself in the body of his fourteen-year-old. he feels at a loss, and every time he's in a room with her, they will always find a way to dissolve into an argument. drift is sulking at how she never wants to be hugged any more. and how she always tells him to pick her up a few blocks away and never by the school entrance. he's worried. they both were. humans are relatively different than cybertronians. human children, even more so. in a society where they spent millions of years without sparklings, without children — there was a chasm spanning between two battle-worn mechs and her, and it was hard to get anything across when the words seemed to dissolve midway. lost in translation, swallowed by the echo. it seems like the more he pushes, the more she pushes back. 

so when she had her bedroom door ajar, which was unusual considering she would always have it shut or locked, ratchet tentatively peeks in — nearly withering at the sight of her lying on the bedroom floor, staring blankly at the ceiling. the vinyl player he had bought her for her eleventh birthday, slowly spins a familiar tune. he joins her the way he did when drift first brought her home, sprawled across the floor, hands and servos nearly touching. it's almost funny how simple the answer was: pull not push. drift was the one who found them embracing, quiet with only the music humming in the background. it took ratchet sixteen years to really understand her.

then there's the whiplash of teaching her algebra by the kitchen table, to attending her university graduation — bouquets from nearly everyone: swerve & velocity, cyclonus & tailgate, chromedome & rewind, rodimus, minimus & megatron, another one from 'favorite uncle rodimus' cradled between her arms. the photographer had to jog backward and up a few flights of stairs to fully capture the moment and fit both dads in the frame. then it became a mantlepiece by the fireplace. coincidentally, the night after was her twentieth birthday. university finished. at such a young age — it helps when she's got geniuses for fathers and uncles. in the morning, ratchet listens to her talk with her mouth full: leftover birthday cake atop the table as she laughs with drift at the memory of swerve pouring her first drink, only to debunk that this was, in fact, not her first shot.

( may write a part 2 !)

[spacewizardtrek]

WARNING: This post will ruin you. Like Medusa; look at your peril.

But here is is. It’s the one you’ve all been waiting for.

Kirk bod appreciation #7: The RIDICULOUSLY BEAUTIFUL FACE. A highly technical and academic review.

This is a rather nebulous one. And not, on the face of it (pardon the pun) very philosophical, as it’s essentially about Kirk being stupidly pretty. This post probably will (it will) descend into just screaming and sobbing, but there will be, I promise, *some* meaningful insight into the meaning of ‘beauty’ and textual analysis of its role herein.

Beauty is subjective. But look at him. It’s not just being aesthetic, but it’s the *way* he’s aesthetic. Here I might repeat myself a bit, but stay with me. I may have mentioned before once hearing him described as ‘beautiful in the way women are often described as beautiful’. He is PRETTY. He is indeed often conveyed in the way the women stereotypically (not necessarily rightly) are on screen: perfect, smooth skin; soft, big eyes; luscious lips (his body is sensually curvaceous and furthermore it’s emphasised). He’s not androgynous though. He’s masculine. And yet I still sense what was meant in describing him as ‘beautiful in the way women are often described as beautiful’. He is a rather uncommon form of gender fuckery. He is a form of stereotype-subversion not commonly acknowledged. He seems to be everything at once, ALL THE GENDER; combines whichever traits he desires from those categories, and yet is undeniably a man and masculine whatever the ingredients. HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE, one might wonder. The fact of the matter is, that it IS. And it teaches us something.

The FUCK. nO. You are not allowed to be that pretty, and you are NOT allowed to look at her like that. We’re trying to have a SENSIBLE DISCUSSION here.

Sorry, that was a non-sequitur / nothing to do with what we learn by Kirk’s embodiment; I was just ambushed by my own gif. Only the control of a Vulcan. ONLY that could possibly withstand this onslaught. And even that won’t hold up forever AS WE WELL KNOW

God.

This is going well, as you can tell.

OK. So, it’s claimed he has Eyes and Stupidly Long Weakness-Inducing Eyelashes. You know, from all that fanfic that goes on about ‘big, sparkling eyes’ and him fanning his ‘long, copper eyelashes’. I mean, yeah right, tropey mc tropeface -

IT’S TRUE. HE IS LITERALLY AN ANIME PRINCESS.

There are some moments where he just BLINKS and, how to describe it...how does a BLINK have that effect. It’s NOT ALLOWED.

...I’m sorry. It IS allowed. All of it. I am not shaming you your beauty. Never change, Jim. Never.

OK. I’m ok. 3 pics down, we can get through this -

Oh you are joking. Stop.

I don’t understand how anyone can be so beautiful. Life is a lie. Reality is fake -

- you did NOT just turn your big anime eyes on Spock. You do know this is why he ran away to PURGE ALL HIS EMOTIONS?

And for that matter, you know when Kirk looks his most beautiful? Literally WHEN HE’S LOOKING AT SPOCK. Spock talks some bollocks and Kirk just sparkles like a fucking angel:

Unbelievable. But utterly undeniable.

Sigh. Moving on.

Oh - someone once suggested I talk about The Lips. Lips are so wonderful aren’t they. So many wonderful things they can do.

And Kirk’s. They’re there in every picture: perfect, rosy, soft and madness-inducing. My advice is just...don’t think about them. But since I’ve been asked to draw attention to them, well, you’ve just sealed your fate. Scroll down at your peril.

I WARNED YOU.

I am pulling NO punches.

I’ve seen this great meme going around:

Excuse me though....CUTE?

That’s the understatement of the 23rd century.

Try impossibly beautiful, mind and body: heart of solid gold, soul deep in love with you. Those eyes and all their passion burned into your memories a thousand times over, along with - maybe, suggestibly, idk I’m extrapolating from all the goddamn tension - even the one unforgettable time he laid between lily-white sheets and gave himself to you; every gift of the mind, body and soul - and your ostensibly-forced Vulcan conditioning, that completely ignored how incompatible one part of you was with it, caused so much dissonance that you thought the only possible course of action for you both to survive was to BREAK UP, tear yourself from this beauty and love and sweetness to PURGE ALL EMOTIONS because nothing, nothing equipped you for this; you were set up specifically to fail, and fail hard in the face of transcendental love and beauty by those who rejected such things and didn’t understand you and could never imagine this for you and who instead of helping your beautiful neurodivergent brain flourish taught you to repress and caused you pain and shame and Gol was so hard and Kirk was so sad, so very sad and depressed and hurt and yet he couldn’t stop loving you with a bond so strong he called to you across the stars and Gol was all for naught yet you still didn’t know how to live like this, it was torture, torture until the mind meld with the living machine flashed your BIOS and you knew, love.exe was suddenly running with no errors and he came after you and held you and you held hands and, and -

.

*sobbing*

.

just...give me a moment

.

YOU WONDER WHAT THE SUBTEXT (FRIKKIN’ MAIN TEXT) OF STAR TREK: THE MOTION PICTURE WAS ALL ABOUT???

The pain?? The angst?? The two logical entities seeking contact, love, THIS SIMPLE FEELING? That fucking moment when spock walks on the bridge and the only way he can control himself is to be SUPER Vulcan, while his love gazes at him with those EYES, fucking huge and glittering and hurt and loving?? Is it so much a mystery what memories these two are carrying, what’s behind the searing tension???????

Love him. Love him Spock. Take him in your arms and love him. He’s for you. All for you. Fucking hell guys. The fuck. This movie.

.

ok.

ok I can do this

CAN U NOT

those damn eyes I swear

It’s obviously not all just superficial physical beauty. What IS beauty? Narratively we do sometimes find this ‘prettiness’ enhanced and emphasized like the old vaseline lens to set the tone of a scene (he’s vulnerable and delicate, or someone’s indeed in love with him so we see their ‘lens’ on him); but it is somewhat intangible and nebulous and changeable. I don’t think aesthetic beauty, if one deems it so, on its own, would be enough for the likes of Spock (indeed, no woman could charm him thusly); it's about something deeper. It’s about who he is. Who he is inside: the beautiful AND the imperfect. How his good and bad - how his ‘all’ -  chimes with Spock’s 'all’. The Enemy Within deals with this, and shows how Spock loves all of Kirk, wants him complete, with both his light and shadow. The beauty of all of us is this totality and variance, not one intangible quality.

I’ll bet Spock’s parents knew immediately. Can you imagine Sarek trying to be a total bitch over Kirk, having heard the rumours and just wanting to have one more thing to reject Spock over, immediately projecting onto Kirk as some blow-up pretty-boy and how Incredibly More Disappointing My Son Is for being Obviously In Love With Stupid Illogical Human Doll Face Bubble Butt Bimbo Captain, and Amanda’s like, stfu, let me remind you Kirk is actually a Fucking Amazing Highly Decorated Starship Captain who Saves Your Life and don’t you DARE resent him just because he’s got tits/ass/tum/lips that won’t quit and is obviously the freakin’ sun Spock orbits. Mr ‘I married a human but that was special because it was logical’ or some bullshit. How is Kirk an illogical choice? I mean literally, Spock is a Science Genius™ on the federation’s FLAGSHIP whose well-matched Genius Captain™ understands him, accepts him, brings the best out of him, helps him fulfil his whole potential and is in love with him in the deepest and purest way and will be his bonded soulmate for ALL OF TIME and that fucking sour-faced bih at the start of that ep, ffs.

Of course Amanda stays in touch with Kirk, adores the fuck out of him, sends him old Vulcan lit on t’hy’la bonds (yes sarek, a T’HY’LA bond, so revered freakin’ poets write about it) etc because frankly her son could do FAR FUCKING WORSE.

FAR. FUCKING. WORSE.

Don’t...just don’t slip the bod into the equation, the face is enough for one post. We’re all in therapy for this already, let’s not relapse.

Oh, what’s the use. I’m gonna die. This is it. This is like the Monty Python joke that is so funny it kills you. This man is lethal. I need to stop this thread and purge all my emotions

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

That’s it. I’m dead. You’re dead. We’re all dead.

I hope, however, seeing this post was worth it. See you at Gol everyone.

.

.

The Forbidden Texts, DO NOT READ:

Kirk bod appreciation #6: The Curves. The Front. The...chest. AND THE AMAZING GREEN WRAP

Kirk bod appreciation #5: The Paws

Kirk bod appreciation #4: The Curves. The Back. Poetry in motion.  

Kirk bod appreciation #3: Season 3 (Part 1)

Kirk bod appreciation #2b: The Gluteus Maximus

Kirk bod appreciation #2a: The Gluteus Maximus

Kirk bod appreciation #1: The Tum

[sammysdewysensitiveeyes]

Part 3 of my meandering “Maximus and Fabian team-up to kidnap Luna” fanfic, based on the brilliant ideas of @thecorteztwins.  I’m afraid I didn’t manage to get them naked in front of a crowd, but they do have another kind of clothing mishap.

Apologies for Fabian’s vague homophobia, and for the ableist insults that some of the characters throw at Max. 

There were two things wrong in this situation as far as Fabian could tell.  

           One – Fabian and Maximus were in a department store with Luna, the child they had kidnapped, just twenty minutes after said kidnapping.  Maximus was making no attempt to blend in, and their change from coveralls into casual clothing presented a flimsy disguise at best.

           Two – Fabian and Maximus were in a department store with Luna, spending Fabian’s money.

           Luna, whom Fabian had previously known as such a sweet, quiet, well-behaved child, had pouted and whined and threatened tears if she were not plied with gifts.  Obviously her time among the royals of Attilan had entirely spoiled her, despite their extremely neglectful parenting styles.  So now they were spending valuable time that they really did not have, waiting for an eleven year-old girl to decide between T-shirts emblazoned with different pastel ponies.  And because Prince Maximus of Attilan was used to having all the finer things in life but never having to pay for them, it fell to Fabian to fund their little shopping trip.  Of course. Fabian’s family was descended from royalty as well, but he didn’t walk around with impractically empty pockets.  

           It wasn’t that Fabian didn’t have the money. He had moved his family’s considerable wealth into various untouchable accounts in the Cayman Islands and Switzerland, so that the police would not seize his assets over his little hobbies. He was doing it for his sister as well – Anne-Marie was too enraptured by the Acolytes’ cause to think about money, so Fabian, as the responsible and loving brother, had accounts set aside to take care of her.  (Well, one account.  A sizable amount.  It was all she needed, really, he’d manage the rest.)

           “This is not going to work,” Fabian hissed as Maximus took his arm and pulled him in disgustingly close.  He was not at all happy having the Inhuman who specialized in mind control, and who somehow always smelled like engine grease getting so touchy-feely.  He knew Max’s powers could also work from a distance, but still.  “We should just say that I’m her father, and you’re her uncle.”

           “I am her uncle, what’s the fun in that?  C’mon Cortez, role-play.  Get into the spirit of things.”

           “They’ll never believe,” Fabian insisted.  “I don’t look gay!”

           “I wasn’t aware that there was a specific look.” Maximus looked genuinely curious, not sarcastic, although it was often hard to tell.  “They don’t look any different in Attilan.  Are there physiological differences or is it just choices of fashion?”

           “It’s….it’s complicated,” Fabian said.  It wasn’t that Fabian had anything against gay men in particular.  He wasn’t like the petty-minded fools that bristled at the thought of another man finding them attractive.  It was only right and proper that gay men find Fabian attractive, just like everyone else did.  Fabian was attractive.  There was something tragically romantic at the thought of all the men who must surely pine after Fabian, their desires forever unfulfilled. He wouldn’t hold it against them. But he couldn’t quite imagine himself in that role.  The thought of certain acts made him uncomfortable.  

           “It’s not so complicated in Attilan.  You just ask.  Until the Council assigns you a spouse, it doesn’t matter.  And it usually doesn’t matter so much afterwards, either, as long as you are discreet.”  Maximus had been the one who thought it would be ever so amusing to pose as Luna’s same-sex parents, because apparently there was no such thing in Attilan. Same-sex relationships were accepted, but procreation and child-rearing was decided entirely at the whim of a council that determined genetic compatibility.  It sounded barbaric to Fabian, who would surely be mobbed by women seeking his superior genetic material.  No amount of polite refusal would do, they would fight for his favor – he would be exhausted and utterly milked dry after even a single day in Attilan.

           A jerk on his ponytail pulled Fabian out of that extremely pleasant reverie.    

           “Do try to keep your wits about you, Cortez, we are still in the middle of a caper, here.  Though I suppose the vapid expression does make you look appropriately non-threatening.”

           Fabian gritted his teeth, but said nothing. Some people were so utterly crass and entitled, especially unstable Inhuman princes.  It would be worth it in the end, when their plan granted Fabian the power he deserved, and then he’d find a tall building to push Maximus off of. He’d let Luna live, he wasn’t a monster, after all.    

Meanwhile, Luna had abandoned the pastel pony shirts, and was pawing through T-shirts featuring a group of handsome Asian teens, with BTS floating above their heads.  Fabian had no idea what “BTS” was, but based on the group’s bland prettiness, he guessed it must be some insipid boy band.  They were allowing Luna to browse without keeping a grip on her – Maximus had suggested that some Very Bad things would happen to the sales clerk if she tried to run or even wandered out of their sight.  Said clerk breezed right up to them, cheerfully unaware that Maximus would mentally force her to bite her own tongue in half if Luna called for help.

           “Can I help you gentlemen find anything?”

           “Your assistance is greatly appreciated, dear lady,” Fabian drawled.  She was fairly attractive, for an older woman.  He resisted the urge to place an arm around her shoulders, but one hand strayed up to undo the top button on his shirt.  

           “We are just buying some clothing for our beloved daughter,”  said Maximus, putting an arm around Fabian’s own shoulders and squeezing up against him.  Fabian hoped his disgust did not show on his face.

           “Technically she’s my daughter,” Fabian blurted out. “Biologically, I mean.  I had her.  With a woman.  I’ve been with a woman before.”

           “I see,” said the saleswoman, lips pursed as if trying not to smile.

           “Yes, my partner supplied the genetic material for the surrogate to create our precious little seraph,” Maximus said, gesturing at Luna, who was still ravaging the BTS merchandise.  “We’re so happy to have her in our lives.”

           “Aww, that’ sweet,” the saleswoman cooed, possibly genuinely enchanted by them.  Also possibly turning on the charm because she worked on commission, and men rich enough to afford a surrogate were likely to drop a lot of money in the store.  

           “I’m the top,” Fabian announced suddenly, answering a question no one was asking.

           “Oh…okay.”

“I’m always the top.  And he absolutely loves the things I do to him, because I am extremely good at sex.  With my penis. Not any other way.”  The saleswoman just laughed nervously.

           “Well, naturally.”  Maximus folded his arms.  “I wouldn’t take an inferior lover.  Of course you always satisfy me in every way and do everything I ask.”

           “That’s right,” Fabian said, with just a hint of uncertainty.  He had a weird feeling that he was somehow losing this conversation.

           “Well, that’s…um….I’m glad you’re so happy together,” said the saleswoman as Luna came running up with an armful of shirts. “But maybe we should pause this conversation.  Little pitchers have big ears, you know.”

           “What does that have to do with anythi –“  

           Maximus’s question was cut off when the far wall of the store suddenly blew apart.  The saleswoman shrieked and wrapped her arms around Luna protectively as they were showered with debris.  Blinking through the dust in the air, Fabian could see the Wrecking Crew emerge through the hole in the wall.  Which would mean….oh, this wasn’t good at all.

           “See, I told you I saw them go in here,” said Piledriver, gesturing at Fabian and Maximus.

           “What are you doing here?” Maximus demanded. “You’re meant to be smashing up Times Square, and keeping the Avengers’ attention for at least another –“ Maximus checked his watch.  “12 minutes and 38 seconds.”  

           “The check bounced, Prince Deadbeat,” said Wrecker. “Pay up, or we’ll take it out of your hides.”  

           “Yeah, or you’re gonna be Prince Deadmeat,” added Bulldozer.  Thunderball groaned and shook his head, rolling his eyes.

Maximus whipped his head around to glare at Fabian.  Fabian tried to glare back, but wound up giving a half-hearted shrug.  Perhaps falsifying the account number had been an extremely minor, insignificant mistake on his part, but how was he to know that the Crew would be checking their bank accounts before the job was even finished?  

           “Can’t you even complete the simplest of tasks, Cortez?”  Maximus snarled.  

           “What, you expect me to waste my fortune on morons like that?” Fabian shot back.  “We would have been away already if you hadn’t wasted valuable time indulging the girl!”  Yes, that was right.  It was all Maximus’s fault.  

           “It was only a small amount of your supposedly enormous fortune, you dullard, which I would have gladly reimbursed after I regained my rightful-“ Maximus was interrupted as Bulldozer charged towards them, head down.  Maximus ripped Luna out of the saleswoman’s arms and dove to the right, Fabian jumped to the left.  Carried by momentum, Bulldozer ran past them, jumping harmlessly over the saleswoman who had fallen to the floor.

           “Get out of here, lady,” he yelled as he swung back around, trying to decide whether to go for Maximus or Fabian.  “Our beef’s with them, not you.”  The saleswoman hesitated, looking at Luna, clearly wanting to pull her out of harm’s way.  Luna’s eyes flashed.

           “Run,” she commanded, and the clerk turned and fled.  

           “See, this is why I always say we should insist on direct transfer.  Checks are worthless, and frankly outdated.  Everything’s digital now,” Thunderball was saying, as he advanced towards.Fabian, swinging the wrecking ball that gave him his name.  

         “Or cash.  That’s even better,” said Piledriver, heading towards Maximus. “You can always depend on cash.” Fabian held up his hands in a placating gesture.  Much as he loathed the idea of groveling in front of these men, surely he could talk his way around these simpletons.  

           “Gentleman….I believe there’s been a misunderstanding. The bank must have made an error, which can be easily remedied –“  Fabian was cut off as the wrecking ball swung at his head.  As he ducked, he could see Bulldozer out of the corner of his eye, apparently deciding that Fabian was the better target.  Just his luck.  

           “We’re not stupid, Cortez.  You’re not going to scam us out of what’s rightfully ours.” Fabian tossed himself out of the way at just the right time, and this time the wrecking ball collided with Bulldozer’s head as he charged.

           “Ow! What the hell, Franklin?!”

           “Well, don’t run right into it!”  

           Fabian was a skilled fighter and master tactician. He had been in multiple battles alongside the Acolytes, often leading the charge himself.  He had never lacked for courage or skill.  And, as an experienced and highly intelligent fighter, Fabian knew the advantage of a strategic retreat.  As Thunderball and Bulldozer sorted themselves out, Fabian took the opportunity to sprint away and hide in a utility closet.  Let Maximus handle the brutes, then he’d take Luna and continue the mission (possibly in honor of the Inhuman prince’s memory, depending on how the fight went).

           As he ran, he saw that Maximus had used his powers to turn Piledriver against Wrecker, and the two were trading blows. So clearly Maximus could handle the situation, and there was nothing wrong with him withdrawing from the battle temporarily to rethink strategy.  The utility closet was cramped, pitch black and smelled of bleach, but they were less likely to find him here than one of the fitting rooms.  He just needed a moment to think.  His powers would not work on the Wrecking Crew – their strength and durability was based in Asgardian magic, not superior genetics like mutants (or, to a lesser extent, Inhumans).  The way these humans immediately squandered their gifts through petty crime just showed the natural superiority of mutants.  Humans couldn’t be trusted with powers.

           Obviously an alternative plan was necessary.  Perhaps a quick wire transfer would smooth over this little problem.  Or maybe Maximus would finally make himself useful and use his powers to subdue the whole group, which he frankly should have done in the first place.  It was also likely that the destruction at the mall would draw the Avengers, which would ruin their plans, but allow Fabian to slip away in the chaos.  He could hear the sounds of the fight continuing outside, with shouting and what sounded like heavy punches.  Off in the distance, glass shattered.  

           Then, suddenly the door to Fabian’s sanctuary was thrown open and Maximus ducked inside, rubbing his right hand and wincing with pain.  Alone, Fabian realized.

           “Where’s the girl?” He demanded.

           “The little brat bit me and ran off,” Maximus snapped.  “Too much like her mother, indeed!”

           “So you just left her out there with those thugs? She’s your niece, for God’s sake,” Fabian exclaimed, appalled at the Inhuman’s callousness and cowardice.

           “Luna is an intelligent, mature girl, and they are unlikely to hurt her.  I just needed a moment to think, and the crew is still fighting one of their own.   Thanks to me, and not you!  You abandoned us both!”

           “I was coming up with a plan!” Fabian hissed. He was no coward, his retreat into the utility closet was entirely different from what Maximus had done.

           “Well, what is your brilliant plan, then?  You’re the one who caused this problem in the first-“ A voice interrupted him, shouting through the store.

           “Heeeeeeeey, Ponytail and Prince Loon.  We’ve got the girl!  Come out and face us if you want her back alive.  Make some noise, girlie.”  There was a faint cry of pain, then Luna’s voice called out.

           “Uncle Max, help!  This isn’t fun anymore!”

           Maximus went rigid, and in the faint light, Fabian could see his face contorted with rage.  Fabian himself was outraged – he might use Luna as a pawn in his larger plans, but he wasn’t going to physically harm the girl.

           It was partially vanity that made them take a minute to throw on their respective suits.  Fighting in human casual-wear was so undignified.  It was also the fact that their costumes were made of a high-tech, extremely strong cloth that would not easily tear and partially protected them from injury.  Also, Fabian appreciated how his costume would show off every bit of his beautiful, sculpted body.  One should always look one’s best, no matter the situation.

           Crammed into the utility closet, they threw on their clothing in the dark, with muffled curses as feet were stepped on, and elbows jammed accidently (or not-so-accidentally) into sides.  After a few confusing moments of fabric and limbs going all sorts of strange places, they burst out to confront the Wrecking Crew again.  They did not expect the Wrecking Crew to laugh.

           Fabian glanced over at Maximus, who was trying to pull his long coat over Fabian’s own cape and shoulder pads.  The costume hung loose on the shorter, slighter Inhuman.  Which meant….Fabian reluctantly looked down (one of the very few times he was ever hesitant to look at his own body), and saw Maximus’s black and silver suit, stretched tight across his chest.  The shirt would not come down all the way, leaving a bare midriff that Fabian would normally enjoy showing off, if he wasn’t wearing the disgusting, unwashed suit of a greasy lunatic.  And he generally preferred baring his abs for the ladies, not ugly, brutish career criminals.

           Maximus glared over at him.  

           “Take those off, Cortez, you’re stretching them out!”

           “Oh, forgive me for actually having a body worthy of homo superior!  We can’t all be scrawny nerds that never exercise!”

           “Oh, do forgive me for spending my time in actual worthy pursuits instead of “bench-pressing” and “man-scaping” and “GTL” like on the Jersey Shore –“  Maximus gave an indignant squawk as Fabian ripped the cape off his shoulders and fastened it around his own.

           “Are you ladies done?  We’ve got business here!” yelled Wrecker.  He had Luna tucked under one arm, struggling and kicking at him with little effect.  “No need for things to get ugly.  You give us the money, we give you back the girl.”

           “Yeah, and can we wrap this up before the Avengers get here?  We dropped a cement truck on She-Hulk, but that’s barely gonna slow her down.  And she’s gonna be pissed,” said Bulldozer impatiently.  Fabian could sympathize – he couldn’t imagine trying to get cement out of his own luscious, flowing locks.

           “Fine, fine, no need for such base violence.  We’ll pay what we owe.  That’s what we intended in the first place,” Maximus said, with a meaningful glare at Fabian.

           “You’ll pay more than that,” said Wrecker.  “You tried to cheat us, so the price has gone up. We want triple the original amount.”

           “Let’s just get out of here,” said Thunderball. “We can take the girl to a safehouse and release her when they pay up.  We shouldn’t be hanging around the guy with mind control powers.” Piledriver, who had shaken off Maximus’s control when the Inhuman ran, nodded in agreement.

           “I’m still in charge here, Professor,” snapped Wrecker.  “We’re not getting any deeper into this than we have to.  We get the money now, give them the girl, and then disappear.  Let them deal with the rest of it.”

As they argued, Fabian was feeling along the outlines of the suit that was stretched too tight across his body.  Bits of metal were digging into him whenever he moved, odd lumps on the inside of the suit.  Prince Packrat must have all sorts of things stashed into hidden pockets – maybe one of them would be useful.  He pulled out a small round sphere, about the size of a ball bearing, that had been digging into his left armpit.  Maximus grinned when he saw it.

           “Flash bomb,” he whispered.  “Throw it and cover your eyes.”

           “Hey, what are you two smirking about?”  yelled Piledriver.  “We’ve got the girl, you’d better not –“

           Fabian tossed the sphere at their feet, and threw an arm across his eyes as the world suddenly got impossibly bright for an instant. He put the arm down, and saw that the Crew was momentarily blinded.  Beside him, Maximus’s eyes flashed blue, fists clenched as he used his power.

           “Toss her to me,” he commanded, and Wrecker suddenly hurled Luna across the room at them.  Fabian was the one who wound up catching her.  She appeared unharmed, but had both hands clasped across her eyes.

           “Uncle Max, I can’t see!  I wanna go home!” she wailed.

           “Be brave, child, the affects will fade soon. You’ll be fine,” Maximus insisted, still concentrating.  Bulldozer started to stumble forward towards the sounds of their voices, but was slowed by Wrecker’s crowbar.  Maximus had the man completely in thrall, and he began to swing indiscriminately, battering the other disoriented Crew members.

           “Can I trust you to carry her, Cortez, or will you be screwing that up as well?”  

           “None of this would have happened if not for this side trip!  We should have stuck to the plan!”  Fabian wondered what other delightful gadgets Maximus had in this ridiculous suit of his. He’d palm a few when they exchanged clothing again.  There were so many ways for him to kill the Inhuman after he’d outlived his usefulness, and that thought was the only thing that kept Fabian going through this farce of a team-up.

           “We’ll finish the plan!”  Maximus insisted.  “This is just a minor set-back.  But first…” The two of them looked at the Wrecking Crew, still blinking and trying to fight off their leader, then looked at each.

           “Strategic retreat?”

           “Indeed.”

           With Luna in his arms, Fabian followed Maximus as they ran for the exit.

[sammysdewysensitiveeyes]

@thecorteztwins

So, I wound up writing another piece of that “Fabian and Maximus kidnap Luna” scenario, this time from Luna’s perspective.  This is kind of turning into a fan-fic, but feel free to tell me to stop, or tell me to do specific things in the story, since I am using your ideas here.  If I manage to keep this up, I think the next scene will be Fabian’s perspective at the mall, pretending to be Luna’s two dads. 

(Also, I’m pretty sure that Fabian didn’t actually kidnap Luna to “teach Quicksilver a lesson,” but I figure that’s how he’d explain it to her.  Maximus and Fabian are both entirely full of bullshit most of the time.)

           Luna was used to being alone.  Inhuman parents didn’t hover over their children constantly the way human parents seemed to, and royal Inhuman parents even less so.  Her mother was constantly away on some kind of official business, like long, boring meetings or fancy dinners, or dealing with yet another crisis that threatened to destroy the entire city.  Other children took lessons together, but as a princess, Luna was given private tutors.  She’d outgrown nannies, so she was usually on her own when lessons were over. At least when Ahura was around they could play together, when he wasn’t moody and moping.  

           Being alone at the Avengers compound was nothing new, either.  Her father had dashed away to deal with the Wrecking Crew destroying buildings in downtown New York.  At least they were living up to their names.  According to her father, they usually stole things and robbed banks, which seemed weird, since they didn’t call themselves the Bank Robbing Crew.  Luna knew she shouldn’t mind, it was her father’s job to fight bad guys and save people, but he’d promised her that they’d go out for ice cream that afternoon.  And there were so many Avengers, did he really have to go?  He could fight bad guys any time, but Luna would only be staying with him another month before heading back to Attilan (assuming her mother didn’t forget because the Kree attacked or Attilan fell into a time portal or whatever).  

           So Luna was sitting on the couch watching Steven Universe, and feeling very sorry for herself, because this was supposed to be Luna and Dad time, and she was alone again.  The cartoon cheered her up a little bit.  The show was about magic sentient space gems, which was a really neat idea, and they had cool designs, and sometimes there were songs.  But mostly, Luna could totally relate to the main character being a half-human, half-alien hybrid, struggling to fit into either world.

           Absorbed in the show, Luna didn’t look up when the door opened.  Two of the gems had fused into some kind of giant woman, and were fighting weird bird monsters.  It wasn’t until someone picked up the remote and switched the TV off that Luna looked up.

           One man she didn’t recognize.  He was kind of handsome, except for the haughty expression on his face.  He was wearing coveralls and a hat, but she could see wisps of red hair peeking out around his face, and a long ponytail down his back.  His emotions were much uglier.  Luna could see golden pride running through his psyche, polished to an arrogant gaudiness.  The too-bright gold color was twined with sharp neon green malice, a rich, luxurious royal purple of greed, and tightly coiled spirals of orange anxiety.  This wasn’t a good sign.  

           The other man was Uncle Maximus, which was an even worse sign.  He was wearing the same coveralls and cap, reminding Luna of the work clothing that he often wore in the Chamber of Devices.  The anxiety inside him was tinted white, closer to excitement, lying in tangled knots across the same garish pride Luna saw in the other man.  Uncle Max’s emotions were far less orderly, though. His psyche was a polychrome nightmare, constantly shifting like a stained glass window come to life, colors clashing as they shot jagged spikes across his torso.   The only constant was the black.  It wasn’t like the cool pools of blue-black calm inside Uncle Black Bolt, it was a writhing darkness that reached out to stain any color that came into contact with it.   It twisted through her uncle’s body, coiling into his brain, wrapped around his heart. Or maybe it was coming out of his heart? It was hard to tell.  

           “Oh, hi Uncle Max!”  Luna said, not quite sure yet whether she should be worried. Somewhere in the rainbow mess, she could see a faint pink of affection.  “Are you bad again?”

           “I’m never bad, dear child,” Maximus cooed, in a tone more oily than honeyed.  “Others label me so because they don’t have the mental capacity to understand my actions.”

           “Oh.  That sounds like you’re bad again.”      

Luna was never really clear on whether she should be afraid of her uncle.  She had first heard of Maximus as a kind of boogeyman, someone that her tutors spoke of in fearful whispers.  He’d seemed to fit that description when Medusa dragged her down to his dark cell, a soft-spoken monster hiding behind a smiling mask.  Despite his kind behavior (he even explained things to her like she was a grown-up!), talking with him felt a little like cuddling up to a tiger. He seemed to change every time Luna saw him – one day cold and sly, the next day practically jumping up and down with excitement while explaining one of his machines.  He certainly didn’t remain soft-spoken, he got very shouty when his emotions boiled over inside him in an eruption of colors.

Even the adults couldn’t seem to decide how to treat him – he was locked away in a dark dungeon forever, he was ruling Attilan, he was the family’s trusted scientific expert, he was trying to kill everyone, he was building machines for Black Bolt, he was a prince to be respected, he was a reviled lunatic.  No one trusted him, but Crystal had left Luna in his care when she and the rest of the family went to rescue Uncle Black Bolt and Ahura from the Skrulls.  (He hadn’t hurt her then, only talked to her for hours in a way that sounded very much like he was talking to himself.) Was Uncle Maximus good or bad or brilliant or crazy or all of those things?  He certainly wasn’t the nightmare under the bed any more.  Lately, Luna had started to think of him as a badly-behaved child, hiding behind a grown-up mask.

           “What does ‘bad’ even mean, really?”  Maximus asked, taking her by the arm.  “A word to keep people in their place.  It’s a word for the peasants, Luna, not for us. Royalty is beyond good and bad.”

           “I really don’t think that’s true Uncle Max,” Luna said, letting herself be pulled up away from the TV.  She’d seen this episode, anyway.

           “You’ve obviously been spending too much time with these humans, you’re starting to absorb their mindset.  You need to be back with your own people.”

           “Is that where you’re taking me?  Back to Mom and Aunt Medusa?”  Maximus grinned broadly at her.

           “Yes, child, exactly!”  Bright flashes of sickly pale blue inside him screamed insincerity.

           “Really?”

           “Well, we’ll go back to Attilan eventually, but first you can spend some fun time with your Uncle Max and my….associate here. I’ll teach you all sorts of interesting things.  Your education has been far too neglected.”

           “I don’t wanna learn.”  Luna wrinkled her nose as she paused, not letting herself be pulled any further.  Maximus paused with her, apparently unwilling to yank her along.  “I’m supposed to be on vacation from school.  Can’t we do something fun?”

           “Yes, poppet, we’ll do all sorts of fun things,” Maximus promised, and the blue blended with a forest green that suggested he was at least partially telling the truth.

           “For God’s sake, Maximus, just grab the kid,” interrupted the man with the ponytail, annoyance flashing a jagged red.  “We need to get out of here before anyone else walks in.”

           “Watch your tongue, Cortez!” Maximus snapped. “Luna is a princess of Attilan and she will be treated with respect.  Even if she’s part mutant, poor thing.”  He patted Luna on the head at that last comment.  Luna was used to this kind of talk.  Most citizens of Attilan approached her half-breed status with something between barely disguised contempt, or, at best, horrified fascination and pity.  She didn’t see why it was such a bad thing.  Her father had powers just like Inhumans, better powers than most of them!

           “That’s her better half, anyway,” the man grumbled. “Mutants will inherit this world.” Uncle Max waved his hand dismissively.

           “Can I say good-bye to Mr. Jarvis before we go? And I should leave a note for my Dad -” Maximus’ grip on her arm tightened. Luna was suddenly completely certain that she was being kidnapped.  It was hardly the first time.

           “Let’s not bother Mr. Jarvis right now, he’s very busy,” Maximus said quickly.  “Don’t worry, we’ve already told Quicksilver that we’re coming to pick you up.” Luna’s father would never in a million years agree for Maximus to take Luna back to Attilan.  He was the only grown-up who’d always been consistent in his opinion of Uncle Max – namely that they should lock him up and throw away the key.

           “Wait, let me get my clothes!  And my toothbrush!  I can’t go without my toothbrush, can I?”  If Uncle Max let her go to her room, Luna could leave a note for her father.  Or even make a run for it.  Maybe she could hide in one of the many spare rooms until the Avengers came back.

           “You don’t need all that, poppet.  We’ll buy you some new clothes.  We’ll have a shopping spree, won’t that be nice?”  Now Maximus was pulling her towards the door again, so that Luna had to stumble along to keep up.  Luna made a frustrated sound, not quite a growl or scream, just a long “Rrgggghhhh….”

           “Quiet!”  ordered the pony-tailed man.

           “Uncle Max, if you’re gonna kidnap me, can’t I at least take my clothes along?  And my DS? It gets really boring being kidnapped!”

           “What does ‘kidnap’ even mean, really?  Just another silly word,” Maximus said cheerfully. Luna rolled her eyes and thought about screaming at the top of her lungs.  That would at least bring Mr. Jarvis from the kitchen.  But Mr. Jarvis didn’t have any powers, and he’d try to stop them.  Luna was fairly sure that Uncle Maximus would not hurt her.  But he would probably hurt Mr. Jarvis.  Screaming was out.    

           “It means you’re taking me someplace I don’t wanna go!” Luna snapped, as they went through the main doors towards the stairs.

           “But you do want to go with us,” Maximus insisted.  “We’re family.  Family members can’t kidnap each other, right?  We’re going to buy you some lovely new things, and have a really fun time together!”

            “That’s right!” agreed the pony-tailed man, smiling as if it hurt him to do so. “We’re great fun!”

           Luna fumed quietly as they went down the stairs. She didn’t think she could use her powers on both of them at once.  It was really hard to use her powers on Uncle Max, anyway, like trying to run underwater. If she tried he would fight, and then the other man, “Cortez,” would probably do something nasty to her.  It would be easier to take over Cortez, but then Uncle Max would use his own powers to stop him.  She wished desperately for her mother to appear and light both men on fire (not like, completely on fire, just enough to hurt them a little.  Maybe just their toes.)  She wanted her father to zip up the stairs and whisk her away, safe in his arms.  But neither of them did, because they were busy.

           They were always busy.  For a moment Luna hated her entire stupid family.  This wouldn’t be happening if either of her parents had been there, like parents were supposed to be.  Maybe they’d finally learn their lesson when her father came back and found her gone.  She smiled a little to herself, imagining her father dropping to his knees and weeping.

           “Oh Luna, how could I have left you all alone? We should have gone out for ice cream like you wanted!”  He would wail.  “How could I have ever considered anything more important than my precious daughter?” Crystal would join him, and they would cry into each other’s arms.  “Our daughter is gone forever because we were such bad parents!  By Randac, I swear if Luna comes back safe I’ll never make her do boring algebra worksheets ever again!”

           Luna was so caught up in fantasy that she barely noticed as they exited the building and climbed into a van.  She realized as the doors shut that she should have gotten a look at the license plate, but it probably didn’t matter.  If this was a kidnapping (and it totally was!), Uncle Max would announce himself to the family soon enough and make a big showy spectacle out of it.  He was “extra,” a human word that Luna had learned from She-Hulk.  And maybe it wouldn’t hurt that her parents would worry about her for a little while – maybe they should.

           Maximus was strapping her into the backseat while Cortez got into the driver’s seat.

           “Where did you get this Uncle Max?  You didn’t do something bad to someone, did?”  

           “Nooooo, of course not,” Maximus tried to assure her as he settled into the front passenger seat.  “A nice man gave it to me.”

           “Oh.”  Luna mentally supplied quotes to the word “gave,” just hoping that her uncle hadn’t hurt the man.  “Are you Uncle Max’s friend?”  She asked Cortez, who was driving them towards the gate.

           “We are…associates.  Partners, you could say,” Cortez said, glancing back at her. “Listen child, I know we have had our differences in the past, but if you behave yourself and cooperate, I promise not to harm you.”

           “What differences?”

           Cortez abruptly stepped on the brake, Uncle Maximus letting out a startled yelp as he jerked forward into the dashboard.

           “I wasn’t even belted in yet, Cortez!  Can you not even drive through a parking lot without some display of incompetence – “   He went on in that vein, but Cortez was not listening, only looking back at Luna, bright yellow surprise flaring up, then smoldering down into a dull, dark red anger.

           “Do you really not remember?  I once kidnapped you to teach your dreadful father a lesson!  How can you forget someone like me?!”

           “Maybe I was a baby?  People don’t remember things from when they were babies,” Luna suggested, trying to be helpful, and maybe calm his anger a bit.  

           “You were old enough!  You were – no, never mind.  I am the great Fabian Cortez, Spanish royalty, leader of the Acolytes, true successor to the legacy of Magneto, the very pinnacle of the race of homo-superior.”

           “That means mutant,” Maximus supplied.  “Now will you drive the van, or must I lower myself to the task, Cortez?”

           “Nice to meet you, Mr. Cortez,” Luna said. “Don’t feel bad if I don’t remember. I get kidnapped a lot.  It’s hard to remember every time.”

           “Fine.  Fine. I forgive you forgetting.  You are only a child, and children can be forgiven these things,” Cortez conceded, anger visibly cooling.  “But more importantly, Maximus, how will we get her past the guard?  I assume you’ll….”  Cortez glanced at Luna, then back at Maximus, and tapped his forehead in a way that meant to be secret.  Obviously he wanted Uncle Max to use his mind control powers.  Luna wondered if they’d keep using charades around her if she pretended not to understand.

           “Why don’t we do this the easy way?” Maximus said, turning to Luna.  “Luna, we’re going to play a fun hide-and-seek game where you lay under this tarp.”  

           “That doesn’t look very clean.  I don’t think I want to play that game.”  And Uncle Max couldn’t force her.  He couldn’t use his powers on her, that was the one advantage she could play.  That, and the cell-phone in her dress pocket that neither man had noticed yet, but she’d have to pull it out when they weren’t watching her.

           “Oh, but you must!  It’s one of the many delightful games we’ll be playing today,” Maximus insisted.

           “Can we also go to store and buy me some new clothing?  Like you said?  I’ll play the game if we can go to the mall.”  Luna knew they could overpower her if they really wanted to.  But Maximus probably didn’t want to do something like that, and he probably didn’t want to deal with her crying or screaming. Buying her presents would be the path of least resistance.  And it seemed only fair, since they were kidnapping her and everything.

           “That’s really not-“ Cortez started, but was cut off by Maximus.

           “Yes, of course, princess!  Just like I said!  I promise!”  The colors seemed to indicate sincerity, although Uncle Max could change his mind on a dime.  But then, resisting might mean that they hurt the poor security guard, and Luna didn’t want that.

           “Okay, it’s a deal.  You promised!” Luna lay flat against the seat and pulled the tarp over herself.  If she played her cards right, maybe she could get her uncle to buy her a new DS.