#so in this context the 'more than god loves them' line is almost ironic. yes it is love and the best crozier can do in this situation but

[gothicastles]

MORE THAN GOD LOVES THEM!!!!! GOD!!!!!!

[tyrannuspitch]

sincere self-awareness in the avengers (2012), a quick breakdown (as i try to prevent myself from writing yet another essay and having an actual breakdown):

A) "i am burdened with glorious purpose." an iconic line, but what does it actually mean? what purpose? this is conspicuously ambiguous phrasing. even as loki announces his own villainy, he declares his ambivalence to it. this is also conspicuously passive phrasing. loki is not just referring to his intentions, but to something externally imposed. people have intentions. tools have a purpose.

loki probably intends it to sound like an invocation of fate and the divine right of god-kings: i was born for this. on a watsonian level, it carries an undercurrent of a cry for help: i have no choice in this. and on a doylist level, it can easily be a reference to narrative purpose: someone has to be the villain. someone has to lose. i was born for this.

B) "you're going to lose. it's in your nature." already alarming, but in its full context this is a deeply ironic line. humorously ironic, yes, but the longer you sit with it, the more tragic the irony becomes.

coulson tells loki he is destined to lose, and loki cannot resist turning back to ask why, while trying to insist that he doesn't care. and then coulson tells him: "you lack conviction". meaning, among other things: you were insecure enough to fall for this. then coulson shoots him.

and this is a pattern. there are at least two scenes where loki outright tells people (natasha, tony) that they can't manipulate him, right before they succeed in manipulating him. he knows they're doing it and it still works. loki is a self-aware character - and it doesn't save him. perhaps it dooms him. or perhaps nothing would ever have made a difference.

this pattern is reflective of a deeper horror for loki: his family. he knows he was lied to all his life; he is certain their motives in adopting him were mixed at best. but, try as he might, he cannot make himself stop loving them, or even stop seeing them as his family. they've lied to him for so long that the lie has become an inescapable emotional truth. knowing doesn't change a thing. he is already theirs.

and this pattern is implied to be relevant to thanos too. we don't know the details of their relationship, but loki is undeniably being coerced and manipulated by thanos. and, unlike the people he mind-controls, it seems pretty clear that loki knows this. and he is still no more able to stop or escape than them.

this is the horror of loss of autonomy, of fate in and of itself. but coulson's line is also about being fated to lose.

of course, when i say loki being fated to lose is tragic, i'm not saying loki should have won. nor am i saying that the surface-level heroic message of "fascists always lose" is a problem.

the tragedy (or even horror) comes in with the idea of loki's loss being inherent not to his actions or ideology but to him, as an individual person - that he's just a kind of person who can do nothing lose. he was born this way; it's in his nature. because that's exactly the logic we've been treating loki as a villain for.

C) "you were made to be ruled. in the end, you will always kneel."

this line might not read as self-aware on the first viewing - but then it's echoed by coulson. and once you have that context, it becomes clear that almost all of loki's ethnic supremacist rhetoric reflects back onto him... and is at least partly fuelled by his own fears about himself.

the thing is, even if what loki is saying were entirely true... loki would still not be the one with the divine right to rule. he's not the asgardian overlord he claims to be. he is an imposter. under the very value system he is invoking, he is not a "god" destined to rule, but a "monster" to be conquered or even slain.

and even this lie ultimately stems from a violation of loki's autonomy, because he didn't choose to become an imposter. it's his lie now, but he was lied to first.

it's not even clear that he could shed his asgardian appearance if he wanted to. he tries, paradoxically, to claim asgardian descent while denying his adoptive family, and somehow both of these fail.

loki's imperialism is, overtly, a frenzied attempt to escape his heritage and the powerlessness and dehumanisation that comes with it. it's one of only two ways out he can conceptualise: this or suicide. and it's explicitly doomed to fail. and he is painfully aware of it.

he's already failed. he can't escape monsterhood by casting himself as a villain. but now that he's started, he won't be allowed to stop playing the villain either. to thanos, he is a useful pawn, and to asgard, he is a convenient scapegoat for the problem of himself. no, it's not because we taught him his people were monsters. this is just proof that he really was a monster all along.

some people are just created inferior. some people are just born evil. some people can't be trusted with freedom. some people just need to be ruled.

he's like a rabbit in a snare that only pulls the noose tighter by struggling. there is no alternative ending. no matter what he does, he will lose. he was born for this.

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

IOTA Reviews: Guiltrip

So, my week has been hell. In addition to working night and day on final essays for my classes, I've been really busy at work lately, and the second COVID vaccine shot really took a lot out of me this week. And that's not even getting into the bureaucratic nonsense that comes with applying for the MTEL which is slowly making me wonder if I actually want to teach in the first place.

But, despite all that, there was a single light of hope this week that almost made it all worth it.

STAR WARS: THE BAD BATCH, BABY!

OH MY GOD, THIS SHOW IS AMAZING! I ALWAYS LOVED THE CLONE-CENTRIC EPISODES OF THE CLONE WARS, AND NOW WE GET AN ENTIRE SHOW ABOUT AN ELITE TEAM OF THEM? KICKASS! AND IT TAKES PLACE AFTER ORDER 66 WITH GRAND MOFF TARKIN AS THE MAIN VILLAIN? SWEET MOTHER OF GEORGE LUCAS, I CAN'T WAIT! I DON'T EVEN CARE THAT THEY TRADED IN THE COOL SNIPER CLONE FOR SOME LITTLE GIRL CLONE, I ALREADY WANT TO SEE MORE THAN THE TWO EPISODES WE GOT SO FAR! GOD, I LOVE THIS SHOW!

Oh yeah, there was also a new episode of Miraculous Ladybug that aired on the same day too, I guess. It was pretty good. Hell of a lot better than the past three episodes I've sat through.

Let's get into the fifth (chronologically the eleventh) episode of Miraculous Ladybug's fourth season: Guiltrip

We start off in the middle of class where we see Marinette looking at Adrien lovingly.

Because the writers are still trying to push the Love Square on us as if they were trying to sell us some death sticks. And yes, expect a few Star Wars jokes in this review. This episode did premiere on May 4th after all.

Rose suddenly gets a headache, and asks to go to the nurse, saying that “Miss Dora” is back. While walking there with Marinette, she explains that it's a code name she gives when her head hurts and can tell Miss Bustier without letting everyone know. She probably felt a name like “Maya Grain” would just give it away.

At lunch, Juleka gets a text that really upsets her, so Marinette tries to cheer her up. Keyword being “tries”.

Okay, yes, this is referencing the previous scene, where Rose refers to a certain snack at the nurse's office she eats to recover her health whenever “Miss Dora” visits called “Mr. Coffee”, but it's just bad timing. I get Marinette has a habit of not reading the room, but why did she have to use the term “Miss Dora” when she knows what it's being used for? Sure, she doesn't know that Juleka knows, but did she really have to say “Miss Dora”? She couldn't have used any other name instead? It's like making a chemotherapy joke when you just found out someone close to you has cancer. Even putting the context aside, what is this joke's punchline supposed to be? That “Miss Dora” will visit Juleka if she eats her lunch? Even by the humor standards of this show, the joke fails spectacularly.

Marinette bumps into Adrien, and although she stutters a little with a little exaggerated body movement, she does manage to take things seriously so she can have an actual conversation with Adrien about Juleka, who wants to be alone. She explains that the text she got was from Rose, who was sent to the hospital because of her sickness, and the entire class finds out because Marinette texted everyone to come to check on Juleka.

Goddamn it, Marinette. I usually defend you for getting screwed over by the writing, but you really aren't on your A game today.

Juleka explains that Rose got this sickness when she was little, which naturally worried everyone else. To make things worse, Juleka also says Rose made her swear to not tell anyone about her to worry her. Everyone else swears to not let Rose know that they know, and the act of support is actually enough to drive away an Akuma targeted at Juleka.

Unfortunately, nobody ever said anything about being overly affectionate to Rose, so everyone in the class tries to do things for Rose like carry her bags, giving her a pillow to sit on in school, helping her take notes, letting her cut in line at lunch, and giving her apples.

All of this makes Juleka remorsefully tell Rose that she told everyone else, which worries her because she hates all the special treatment, so she goes to tell them all about her illness. While they seem to accept her, the next time she sneezes, they overreact like, uh... how can I make this joke in a tasteful way?

Rose says she's had enough with all the treatment, which makes Juleka feel guilty. In the bathroom, she gets akumatized into Reflekta (yet again) with a Sentimonster named Guiltrip. And then Reflekta immediately gets sucked into the Sentimonster, which will cause it to go out of control. Nice job, Shadowmoth.

While it might not look like much, this is easily my favorite Sentimonster by far. Granted, that's not saying much, given all we've gotten so far for Sentimonsters is bootleg Mothra, sentient candy, a robotic doll, a frog with a body count, yet another evil doppelganger, and an eye, but my point still stands. Rather than actually confront the heroes, it's basically a portal to another world where it can trap people in bubbles that represent their regrets and despair, and turn them into copies of Reflekta.

It's a really strong metaphor which reminds me of the villains from Kamen Rider Wizard, who tried to drive their victims to despair in order to turn them into monsters. Ironically, that show's main villain is also some asshole in white who was risking countless lives just to save someone close to him. In general, the area inside of Guiltrip is visually stunning, and easily the highlight of the episode. It's just so surreal, and it really sets the tone the episode's going for.

Ladybug and Cat Noir arrive on the scene, and also get sucked into the portal, seeing some of the victims before they also start to fall into despair. And I can't believe I'm saying this, but this is one of the few times where Angstdrien Depreste is thematically appropriate. Cat Noir points out that if they had simply defeated Shadowmoth by now, none of this would be happening, which is a good point. He even attempts to kill himself using his Cataclysm, but unlike RWBY, they don't try to glorify it.

This also leads to Rose managing to fight off Guiltrip's powers with her optimistic personality (so I guess you could say she's A New Hope for the heroes), inspiring Ladybug to compliment Cat Noir. While I'd normally be pissed that this is yet another way to boost his ego, it does fit in with the episode's theme of positive thinking. Well, with the exception of one line where she points out what her time as Ladybug would be like without Cat Noir...

BEING A SUPERHERO IS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE FUN. Yes, there are certain benefits to being a superhero, but it is not a fun game you play when lives are on the line. Why are the writers so dedicated to validate Cat Noir's beliefs that being a hero is just a fun extracurricular activity? Has there ever been a superhero who shares a similar mentality and isn't treated like a complete jackass?

So Ladybug and Cat Noir break free of the bubbles, and after summoning her Lucky Charm, a pickaxe, Ladybug realizes she needs more positivity to break free from Guiltrip. As such, she pulls out the Pig Miraculous and gives it to Rose, who transforms into Pigella. Funny how she forgot her little headache condition when she bangs her head like a death metal singer while transforming.

The design is... wait, she's not wearing a skin-tight jumpsuit? She's actually wearing something different?

Yeah, I really like the Pigella design. There's a good mix of pink and white, and the skirt really brings the whole thing together. It really reflects Rose's optimistic and bubbly personality.

So the three heroes find Reflekta, who has been consumed by tons of bubbles. Pigella uses her superpower, Gift, to show Reflekta what her heart wants the most right now. So it's basically a more specific version of the Fox Miraculous? In fact, what do pigs have to do with optimism?

Whatever reason, it works, which helps Reflekta to break free of Guiltrip's influence, letting Ladybug de-evilize her. But because we need to have a fight scene in this episode, the Reflekta clones start to attack the heroes, but Ladybug uses the pickaxe to climb out of Guiltrip and purify the Amok.

So Rose hands the Pig Miraculous back to Ladybug, and the episode ends with everyone treating Rose normally in class, realizing she isn't as delicate as she thinks she is.

So yeah, I really like this episode. Aside from a few stupid things Marinette said this episode, I honestly don't have a lot of problems with the episode here.

I also really like the lesson this episode is going for. It doesn't shame Rose for rejecting the help, and it doesn't shame the class for being to overprotective of Rose either. It tries to find a middle ground, which is an important lesson to learn, not just for dealing with a loved one who has an illness, but for disabled people and other kinds of situations where someone has a disadvantage. Even as much as I ragged on Marinette for the text, it's clear that she isn't the only one to blame. In fact, nobody really gets blamed for anything this episode. It's more of a misunderstanding, and both sides find a balance on how to treat Rose.

It's overall a really good episode, and the second best one so far this season. And you know what? This episode taught me the importance of staying positive, so with that in mind, maybe I shouldn't be dreading “Queen Banana” when it comes out this week.

Wait, what? It got pushed back two weeks? Oh, THANK GOD! Now I feel like dancing. And I know exactly what song to dance to...

[instantvoid---microwaveable]

 If my future soulmate doesn’t hold me as loved-one + respected-mentor + admired-historical-figure + religious-leader + literal-jesus = they love me more then all of these combined then I will send them to war for a year or two and hope they turn into Wilfred Owen.

No but fr Wilfred Owen’s love letters are something everyone needs to learn about. Lemme give you some quick context.

Lived during WW1, English, Enlisted young, met Siegfried Sassoon in a War hospital

Became a famous war poet, hero-worshipped Sassoon, and started writing letters to him from the warfront, the ones that we will cover here

Died November 4th 1918, tragically, literal days before the end of the war

The passage I referenced in the beginning goes like this:

‘I held you as Keats + Christ + Elijah + my Colonel + my father-confessor + Amenophis IV in profile. What's that mathematically? In effect it is this: that I love you, dispassionately, so much, so very much, dear Fellow, that the blasting little smile you wear on reading this can't hurt me in the least. ‘

Yes I know. I’m going right in with a solid punch to the heart. I’ve never before or since seen a line such as this, for further explanation, one of the next lines of the letter:

If you consider what the above Names have severally done for me, you will know what you are doing. 

One of those being an ancient Egyptian Pharaoh and the rest being fairly self explanatory, should explain the hot mess in the beginning. If that doesn’t sell you on this post I don’t know what will, in any case continue at your heart’s peril. Now lets rewind, to an earlier letter- which is actually from Wilfred Owen to his cousin:

At last I have an event worth a letter. I have beknown myself to Siegfried Sassoon... The sun blazed into his room making his purple dressing suit of a brilliance – almost matching my sonnet! He is very tall and stately, with a fine firm chisl'd (how's that?) head, ordinary short brown hair. The general expression of his face is one of boredom.

Mostly reminds me of a schoolgirl with a crush in this paragraph, doesn’t make it any less tooth-achingly sweet though. Sassoon was highly respected by Owen even before they met, both poets and soldiers led to a lot of common ground. I’m going to choose not to comment on the beginning of this letter, and let it speak for itself:

My dear Sassoon, When I had opened your envelope in a quiet corner of the Club Staircase, I sat on the stairs and groaned a little, and then went up and loosed off a gourd,

Pretending weird 20th century euphemisms don’t exist, my personal favourite quote- is heart aching with gorgeous imagery, from this same letter:

And you have fixed my Life – however short. You did not light me: I was always a mad comet; but you have fixed me. I spun round you a satellite for a month, but I shall swing out soon, a dark star in the orbit where you will blaze. It is some consolation to know that Jupiter himself sometimes swims out of Ken!

My personal appreciation for astral imagery is evidenced by my last post- this quote is killing me, BUT CAN WE TALK ABOUT ‘however short’ BECAUSE THIS IS IN THE MIDDLE OF WORLD WAR 1, HE DIED AT 25 AND ONLY KNEW SASSOON FOR A YEAR. As beautiful as these letters are, they’re also unbearably tragic. Another from the same letter because this is a masterpiece:

Someday, I must tell how we sang, shouted, whistled and danced through the dark lanes through Colinton; and how we laughed till the meteors showered around us, and we felt calm under the winter stars. And some of us saw the pathway of the spirits for the first time. And seeing it so far above us, and feeling the good road so safe beneath us, we praised God with louder whistling; and knew we loved one another as no men love for long.

This is giving me coming-of-age movie and summer vibes so much, its so lighthearted and happy, and honestly the vibes of this speak for itself. Yet, Owen returned to the warfront, despite Sassoon reportedly threatening to ‘stab him in the leg if he tried to return to the Front’ and a tragedy this story always was, here is the last one I found:

It is a strange truth: that your [book of poems] Counter-Attack frightened me much more than the real one: though the boy by my side, shot through the head, lay on top of me, soaking my shoulder, for half an hour. Catalogue? Photograph? Can you photograph the crimson-hot iron as it cools from the smelting? That is what Jones's blood looked like, and felt like. My senses are charred. I shall feel again as soon as I dare, but now I must not. I don't take the cigarette out of my mouth when I write Deceased over their letters. But one day I will write Deceased over many books. . . .                    Ever your W. E. O.

All information, excerpts and quotes are copyrighted by Rictor Norton, the website with further details is here: http://rictornorton.co.uk/owen.htm

Disclaimer: I cannot personally attest to the validity of these letters or extracts, all the information I have is from the site- so don’t come at me!

[babiesdreams]

The mirror +18 Doyoung Hogwarts au Part 2 This 2 fics are important. Really, read them if you wanna keep up w/ everything

Part 1 is in here (For context). Alsooo, as I said in the first part, I do not stand by what the Harry Potter creator says/thinks about the trans community. Don’t hate on trans people, trans lives matter.

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: sexual content, fem1 reader

It’s been weeks and you were really dying to know what Doyoung saw on the reflection of the mirror, but he always refuses to tell you. At this point you really believe it must be something really embarrassing, since he wasn’t talking about it. 

Your best friend, Donghyuck, has been telling you how you shouldn’t trust him. The Gryffindor boy always hated on Slytherins and Doyoung always got on his nerves. The two of them were constantly fighting about completely unimportant things. 

“I’m sure he saw your dead body” Haechan says with a creepy tone.  “For god’s sake Donghyuck, he’s not the devil. He’s just a student” He chuckles “You know who else was just a student. Yes, you got it. Tom Riddle” He says in an ironic tone that really gets on your nerves. “He doesn’t want me dead okay?” You say angrily.

“Who wants you dead?” Doyoung says from behind of you. “What did you see in the mirror?” Haechan says getting closer to him, trying to intimidate him, but Doyoung’s eyes are only looking at you with a serious yet hurted expression. “You told him?” He says slowly. “I-I didn’t mean to-” You stutter, trying to explain yourself but he just furrows his brows and walks away, completely furious. 

“Fight me you stupid” Haechan shouts at him but he doesn’t seem to care as much, his body turns back, looking at the Gryffindor boy and he simply says “Aqua eructo” Pointing his wand at the boy. Inmediately a jet of water emerges from the tip of his wand, wettening Haechan’s body.

“See? The devil” Haechan whispers once he’s gone. You hit his arm, completely mad at him, but also wasn’t all the fault on yours? Weren’t you the one who told him about that personal and intimate moment?

“I gotta go” You say, holding tears from falling down your cheeks. You get to the girls bathroom, to hide from everyone around. Your tears quickly start floading, in between loud whines. Moaning myrtle’s ghost starts talking to you instantly almost like tears and cries called her soul everytime.

“Who made you this sad?” She coos at you. You look at her, kind of disgusted, knowing how annoying she could get sometimes. “I don’t wanna talk” You simply whisper. “It was a boy right? Boys are so cruel” She says crying out loud. You look at her fiercely and shout “GO” 

She shakes at the fierce and scary reaction. “Leave me alone” You scream at her. She ends up leaving with loud cries that get to your mind, making it hurt like crazy. Gosh you hated that annoying ghost.

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

You’ve been trying to apologize to Doyoung for weeks in different ways, but he always found a way out, not even wanting to look into your eyes. So you decided to go with the harsh way. “Petrificus totalus” You say pointing at Doyoung’s figure. 

His body petrifies under the effect of the spell. His expression turns into an angry one before it gets frozen. His body surprisingly mantains the balance, which is rare on victims under this spell.

You start off explaining yourself. “I wasn’t conscious of how much that moment meant for you. I really thought you would talk about it with your friends too. I just... He’s my bestfriend, and I know he can get really annoying sometimes, but he’s a good guy. He was just scared, since you were a Slytherin, and he doesn’t really trusts Slytherins... I’m so sorry Doyoung. I should hae never done that, or even pressure you to tell me. I just don’t wanna lose you. I have been so afraid of losing you this past weeks. I had to petrify you so that you would listen” You say, as tears start appearing in your shiny eyes.

“I love you Doyoung. And It fucking hurts okay? I don’t know what to say or do to make you stay. But if I can do something, anything, please tell me... I really can’t imagine my life without you” You cry out, looking at his petrified angry expression. “Renervate” You finally say pointing at him with your wand. His body slowly returns to its natural form. 

His expression in no longer angry but sad. “You can do whatever you want. I just wanted to tell you” You say as you turn your back to him, wanting y¡to leave the room. Now filled with embarrasing moments for you. “I wasn’t mad” He says, stopping your steps. “I was just hurted. But you couldn’t know why. You don’t know what I saw” He explains.

But your tears don’t stop falling, His words wouldn’t stop your mind from blaming your actions. It wasn’t your fault? Yeah sure. You couldn’t know? Why would that even matter? You revealed an intimate moment between you two without his consent.

“Are you listening?” The boy says worriedly. “You deserve to be mad at me” You say controlling the tone of your breathy voice. “I’m not mad” He shouts “I don’t care” You answer, also screaming. “You should be mad. You should be hating me. Why aren’t you?” You shout at him and he looks at you with a serious gaze. “Because I love you”

His words replay in your mind, like something that you needed to hear, yet you were to scared about. “You want to know what I saw in the mirror?” He says, almost tearing up, but you shake your head. “It doesn’t matter anymore” you whisper as your lips get closer to his. Your lips collide together in a explosion of feelings.

“I missed you” He says under his breath. “Me too” You simply reply.

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

It’s been a couple of hours since Doyoung forgave you and your heart was already fluttering around. His arm pulls you into a room, an empty room, and instantly everything that happened that night replays on your head.

Doyoung’s lips are leaving wet marks on your neck, making your body shake due to the pleassure. “Let’s take it slow this time” You whisper at him and he nods. His black hair really looks great with the rooms lighting. His dark chocolate eyes are fixed on your lips, your soft and moist lips. 

His thumb caress it softly as if redrawing them. They tear apart slightly, leaving a gap in between your top and your bottom lip. “You look perfect” He says looking directly at your lips. “Stay by my side” He whispers in your ear and you simply nod.

His thumb slowly enters your mouth, getting wet with your saliva as it does. He’s completely focused on fucking your mouth with his fingers in a very sexual way that he forgets about everything else. Your mind is also focused on the slow movements of his finger passing through your wet lips over and over again. Your tongue moves slowly, caressing the tip of his finger as he keeps inserting it in.

You swear you could just have  cum right there by the mere actions of a finger in your mouth, which was quite embarrassing. The way he moves tho... He doesn’t need a spell to control you, his words are more than enough. His free hand finally travels along your curves, The way his fingertips brush your skin makes you shake slightly, in anticipation.

He reaches your cunt, drawing a straight line through your clothed folds. His thumb is fully inside of your mouth, not moving now. His lips get close to your neck, pressing a soft kiss on it “I love you” He whispers against your skin before his tongue licks it off slowly. “I fucking love you” He repeats and you can’t contain yourself from humming against his thumb.

He chuckles, knowing exactly what you wanted to say, and keeps going. His tongue getting dangerously close to your breasts. Your hands fastly remove your clothes from his way, wearing only your underwear now. “Good girl” He growls against your collarbone. He licks his way down until he reaches the limit of your bra. 

As if reading his mind you unclip it, letting it fall down right after. His lips trap your left nipples, sucking it in slowly. His teeth slightly caress your skin as he dows, making you gasp. His lips slowly get away from your chest, making your nipple slide out. He then straight up bites the sensitive skin. His teeth are gentle tho, only making you feel a slight hint of pain in between all the pleasure.

His hand is still on your cunt, drawing circles around your clothed clit, making your panties completely wet and uncomfortable to wear. If his thumb wasn’t on your mouth you’ll be moaning out loud, letting the whole school know just how good he’s fucking you. But instead you’re only able to hum around his wet digit.

His fingers slide your panties down, letting them fall to the ground, the sensation of the cold air and the relief of not having a wet spot brushing your cunt is absolutely perfect. You don’t have much time to think about it tho, because his fingers quickly enter your dripping wet pussy, slowly yet deeply.

You wanna scream his name so that he knows just how much you’re enjoying it, but it doesn’t seem to be needed by him. He can tell just how much you’re enjoying it purely based on the wet fluids coming out of your cunt. 

His mouth finally atacks the other nipple, that was completely abandoned. His lips repeat the actions he previously did with your other nipple. You let out a whimp around his thumb, which he gets out of your mouth, leaving a wet trail of saliva connecting his digit to your lips. It’s a split second though, just before he gets his index and middle finger inside, filling your mouth again.

You hum in protest but he doesn’t really listen. His fingers get faster inside of you, curving themselves as they do, instantly making your body shake out of pleassure. His actions come to a stop shortly after as his fingers slowly pull out of you, making some of your juices fall to the ground from his fingers.

His fingers get out of your mouth as well. “On four” He simply orders, and eventhough you wanna protest you simply obligue, getting on the said position fastly. He’s busy removing his clothes, on your back. “I love you too Doyoung” You are finally able to reply as he gets undressed. The boy chuckles at your cute confession.

“I know baby” He says kneeling down and inserting his tip in you. You whimper loudly and he sighs. “You have to be quiet if you don’t wanna get us expelled” He says and you nod as if understanding, but deep down you know you will not be able to control sounds from coming out of your mouth.

He puts his hand on your mouth making your body follow his arm. Your back touches his chest slightly getting the boy’s sweat on you. His dick gets inside of you fully as you do. His hips move fast as if he had been retraining them all this time. “Have I ever told you how good you look like this?” You shake your head and he smirks. 

“You look perfect like this, when I fuck you” He whispers in your ear, leaving goosebumps all over your body. And it’s true, the way the lights reflect on your body, as it shakes, covered by shiny sweat is really a mesmerzing view. “Now you are gonna cum for me as I do okay?” He says softly and you nod, already feeling a wave of arousal coming.

Your body shakes when you feel his hot cum filling you out. “Fuck” You whisper loudly once he removes his hand from your mouth. He pulls out of you, letting his cum fall to the ground and he sits down, catching his breath back in.

“I need to tell you” He says in between heavy breathes. “About the mirror” He starts saying with a shaky voice, but his figure starts dissapearing without he even noticing. You gasp in surprise, not knowing what was happening. “I saw” His breathy voice says just before his whole body vanishes away.

You’re really shocked, not knowing what to say or do or think. You never saw this kind of magic before and he for sure wasn’t controlling it. Your eyes keep looking at the spot where his body used to be, thinking to yourself if all of this had been just your pure imagination tricking your brain. 

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

To be continued.

Masterlist –requests open– How to request?  Check out your score.

[m-y-fandoms]

Blood on Our Stage - Vampire Nagito Komaeda x Human Female Reader -Part 1 (Slight/Platonic Female Reader x Hajime Hinata)

So, this is an old fic I updated to fit these characters because I want to continue it :)

NEEDED CONTEXT FOR THIS AU: Hajime and Nagito are step brothers, (Y/N)/Reader is a human, Hajime and Nagito are vampires, and Hajime did indeed get into the Main Course at Hope’s Peak, for acting.

The paycheck… It's all about the paycheck...

   You took a deep breath, reassuring yourself for what seemed like the hundredth time that year… or that hour.

Smile, s-smile. Breathe, lean into him. It has to look real, (Y/N). God… it’s a whole new level of crackhead when you stutter to yourself in your thoughts.

 Dissociate. 

What are we having for dinner? How many more steps ‘til that damn egg hatches? If it’s another fucking Diglett I swear I’ll go apeshit. 

You shifted to your right, the most forced of grins creeping onto your cosmetic-plastered face. You let your head fall onto Hajime’s shoulder. Convincing right? Touching is convincing. Random gentle displays of affection are convincing... 

By this time, you were nearly blind from the flash of some fifty or so cameras in your face, anyway, so why not just pretend that the photographers and press were blind as well?

  Why not, why not?

 You pretended in every other aspect of your life.

"Isn't that right, (Y/N)?" Hajime’s voice shook you out of your trance, and you turned your head, letting go of his arm, which you had grabbed out of habit. His sparklingly white teeth - sharper than the average man's - gleamed down at you, and you felt that usual pang of fear run down your spine and chill your bones. Even attached to the gums of the sweetest boy on earth, you’d never get used to the sight.

It's all a show, (Y/N), a game. Pretend. "Fangs for the fans, and all that" 

How long would that farce last until people started to realize?

  What had Hajime said earlier that month? You retreated into yourself, thinking deeply, trying desperately to calm the anxiety that rose with at the sight of his flesh-tearing canines...

   _______________________________________________________________

"I can bare my fangs at interviews, photoshoots… you know, when the paparazzi are around. It’s what my dad wants,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Don't worry about it, (Y/N). Honestly, you freak out over the silliest things sometimes.” He ruffled your hair. “It will look like I'm dedicated to the role, or something like that… whatever. People will love it, trust me."

      ___________________________________________________________

But you never could. How could you? A monster with a secret, stupidly displaying that secret openly to the world? No… trusting meant removing little stones from that carefully built wall, which sub-sequentially meant getting hurt, and not just emotionally. You recited this mantra to yourself almost routinely; something you’d picked up from someone very close to your heart. Isn’t it funny how we steal little bits of personality from those we love most?

You knew Hajime just followed whatever his father commanded, that he’d do anything to feel like he mattered, that people cared. He’d done all this: the acting lessons, depending on daddy’s money, the unless studying and promoting himself, just to get into that stupid school and kickstart his illustrious career.

"Isn't that right, (Y/N)??" Hajime tenderly brought his hand up, stroking your shoulder awkwardly. The clench in his jaw, however, wasn't friendly at all. You couldn’t really blame him, though. He was doing it for your sake, after all. You had to get through this, and he knew he had to pull you through; everything depended on it.

How could this flock of idiots not tell the “chemistry” was forced???

"Uh… o-of course! Yeah!" You smiled, a fake chuckle escaping your lips, and the crowd of reporters and internet journalists roared in front of you. Of course they did… wasn't everything the disciplined and people-pleasing boy beside you said fucking hilarious? You sighed, returning your gaze to the mass of people below you as you and your leading man sat raised on a platform behind a pretentiously high table.

    Just let Hajime handle all the questions, you thought to yourself indifferently. You always did. They rarely directed them at you specifically, anyway. So much for your dream: to stun the world as an independent starlet, a crimson-hot femme fatale. It was always ‘Hinata Hajime’s doe-eyed leading lady!’, ‘Hajime’s little love interest!’, never ‘(Y/N) (L/N)... featuring Hajime Hinata!’ But... you were famous, and with no little chunk of change to boot… you should’ve been thankful… right?

So why weren’t you…?

  Your eyes scanned the faces before you, and you realized that you hadn't… really looked at them until now. Yes, the usual prolific online bloggers and huge theatre junkies were there, and Mr. Hinata of course. He wouldn't miss out on one of his company’s press meetings for the world, especially with his money-making beloved son in the spotlight. He was so anal, how could anything possibly go off without a hitch unless he was there?

You wondered if the girl next to him knew he was a ravenous monster as well, but thought better of it. Of course, she didn't know. You shouldn't have even known. But you did, and it plagued you every day of your life.

  Fuck... you just wanted to go back to your room and overthink in peace. It was embarrassingly uncomfortable to do so in public

Mr. Hinata sat sternly upright, with his polished, slick hair, in his polished, slick shoes and extravagantly tailored navy suit, his secretary at his side, brushing his hand unnoticeably between the chairs. His wife would never care, anyway. To their right sat a rosy-cheeked intern, spunky and full of character. Holding a clipboard between perfectly painted nails, the only thing that spoke louder than her bright smile was her neon miniskirt. She must not have known, either. No human simply knew, and still managed to look that innocent and lively. The PR girls loved press conferences, and each new show only yielded fresh publicity. This most recent show, set to premiere the following night, was a tale of romance: A vampire lord and his human lover: a medieval era period piece. Of course, for this reason, Hajime did nothing to hide his all-too-real fangs. 

You loved a good historical romance, and loved being in one even more. It had always been your goal as a starting actress to take the lead in at least one period play, be it Victorian, colonial, medieval.. but... it had not turned out quite the way you planned...

   A few other members of the Hinata family accompanied their revered head of  the household… or was it head of the clan… coven? Whatever, it was expected. The murderous bloodsuckers always clung to their leader’s side, and could always be found lurking around Hinata’s estate, if they weren’t already crammed up his ass looking for approval.

A flash came from the reporter to the left, directly into your vision, and left you dazed.

 Fuck… you seethed internally. Calm down. Calm down. The paycheck. That's it. This is almost over, anyway. Why did you always find yourself spacing out at the worst possible times? You acknowledged that it was how your body coped with the overwhelming urge to break down, but damn if it wasn’t inconvenient at the minute. Nothing screamed ‘I have something to hide’ like acting shady in front of a hundred people…

You leaned into Hajime again. Sell the relationship. Sell the love.

You exhaled in exhaustion. It wasn’t that you didn’t love Hajime… you did, just, not like this. Never like this. Lying to millions of fans and the press, pretending Hajime was anything other than a brother-like figure to you just to line his father’s pockets, tore you apart more than keeping his immortality a secret. Denying you both a chance at real love for fear of scandal… you were sure that there was no phrase you’d ever grow to hate more than “The Hinata Theatre Company!” Ironic, wasn’t it, that at one point in time, you begged to be here?

You found that scoping out a crowd lowered the anxiety you had about actually being in front of them. It's funny, many people asked how you could possibly be afraid of crowds or public speaking when you were a damn Broadway-level star. Your answer was always the same: your rush of adrenaline and passion for theatre got you through a show, but anywhere else but on that stage, and a crowd turned your mind to jelly. It was different… walking out for a performance tamed the butterflies that flew around inside your stomach.

  Of course, there was always the fact that your boss could tear you apart at a moment’s notice that contributed to the anxiety, but you obviously couldn't share that little bit of information with anyone. It was all so hard to process, that this kind young man beside you could be something so fearsome, that your whole life was a public sham. You’d never forget the day you’d found out… how it changed everything. You shouldn’t have to be afraid of your best friend, you just shouldn’t. But how could you ever truly trust him again?

Your eyes bounced once, twice around the room.

  ...No

   You gasped, breath catching in your throat as your eyes caught on something that caused you to jump slightly in your seat.

"You ok?" Hajime whispered, the crowd going noticeably silent for a moment. Mr. Hinata glared in your direction. A silent warning, reminding you that even one wrong move made his company look bad, and that would not end so well for you. That was the shining aspect of Hajime’s personality, that he was nothing like his father.

"Yeah, y-yeah," you spoke airily, cheeks heating. "I just slipped to the edge of my seat a little, almost fell!" You lied timidly, a small laugh.

They'll eat that shit up. Soft-spoken, innocent, clumsy girls are all the rage! Of course, Hajime picked up on the lie immediately, catching the change in tone, the skipping of your heartbeat. Being an immortal freak had its perks.

The bright-eyed boy beside you patted your arm, the crowd chuckling politely before returning to their bombardment of questions.

Your eyes flew back to the corner of the room, back to the object that had you startled in the first place. You tried to tell yourself you’d imagined it, but there was no mistake,

 It was him...

 Standing there in the entranceway, so dimly lit, he hid in the alcove. There was no mistaking his favorite jacket, the fabric ripped and weathered from use. There was no mistaking the intricate, almost root-like pale green veins which spiraled up his arms, told a story across his milky collarbone, tumbled down his wrists, and made him all the more intimidating. Intoxicating. There was no mistaking that full head of tousled hair, brightly standing out even in the meager lighting in that disregarded corner of the room, messy whisps branching out dangerously; an air of nonchalance and bored irreverence. Smug bastard…

And there was absolutely no mistaking the way those bright eyes illuminated his white skin in contrast, a frightening and ethereal glow shooting off of him in waves. Hajime’s chestnut-brown eyes never mimicked that terrifying iridescence, but then again, Hajime never took his life-sustaining drink from a human host. Your hands began to subconsciously shake. From fear or the itching desire to… you didn’t know, throw your arms around him, touch his cheek just once... ? You never knew with him. He was a wild thing, a beast untamable. But why the hell was he here?

Carelessly he leaned against the door frame. His tongue shot out predatorily, running along his lower lip in one fluid motion. His knuckles raised, brushing against the green of his coat and coming up to scratch the side of his face.

❘ What are you doing here?! ❘ You sent your thoughts out in waves so loud you might as well have been screaming. You knew immediately that he had taken them in, absorbing your mental cursing and inner toil like sun rays. It was a power and privilege only those of his kind who were purebred enjoyed.

He did not answer, but merely tilted his head, the corner of his lip rising in that maddening grin he always threw at you. An impish smirk hiding mischief and chaotic intentions, you were sure.

You knew it would be mere moments ‘til your flawless "boyfriend" beside you noticed his presence as well, and you feared what might become of this night that was supposed to be of celebration. Almost as if on cue, Hajime’s words halted to a stop. That evil smirk only widened, a small snort shaking the intruder’s chest.

"Nagito..." Hajime murmured through clenched teeth, his hand shooting down to grab your wrist. "He's here."

  "I know..." your words shook, just loud enough for any non-human in the room to hear. Now it was time for you to be Hajime’s rock. Nagito's head bobbed, looking down at his old ripped jeans, and you saw Mr. Hinata's eye twitch before you, his vampiric hearing triggered immediately upon hearing your quiet exchange with Hajime.

Mr. Hinata followed your eyes to the back of the room, his fiery glare landing on the face of his eldest and only step-son in the shadows.

Was it too late to run back into the dressing room and never come out?

You could feel the tension in the air, a line of electricity connecting the three vampires like mental twine, ready to break at any moment. It was like watching three animals square off, sizing up their threat on a National Geographic documentary. The other Hinata coven members, all also fierce bloodsuckers in their own right, merely sat forward politely, sensing Nagito's aura but knowing better than to give him the time of day. After all, alerting the press to his presence would certainly not be a wise way to stay on Mr. Hinata’s good side.

  No one outside of the family even knew about the existence of the elder brother. He was an embarrassment, a stain on Mr. Hinata’s designer tie. In the packed room, he looked so out of place, with dark, torn clothes in a sea of try-hard collared shirts and dresses. Sure, everyone who was anyone in the media world had turned up for this interview, and would also return for the opening night the next day, but everyone who was anyone never included Nagito. He made sure of that. He just had to stick out, be different, didn’t he? Even among a bunch of immortal freaks, boy… was he a freak. 

Oh no, mommy remarried some rich man then got herself killed, better act like a little ungrateful little prick. Woe is me, I have super good luck that is sometimes super bad! No one understands me!!!

He sickened you, the way he did his best to destroy what he and Hajime’s family had built, all in the name of his backwards and twisted idea of “hope.” As if he didn't live like a prince because of the Hinatas’ hard work. Don’t get it twisted, you hated Mr. Hinata and would love to see the Hinata empire burn, but this company, the desire to be recognized and worth something, was all that held dear Hajime up. It was his only dream, and he deserved it. Nagito didn’t have a right to tear Mr. Hinata down if he had to wreck Hajime to do it.

     He disgusted you, you’d decided months back, to make it all easier on yourself. Everything he’d done, the trouble he’d caused, the hurt he’d caused so many people. Routinely, you reinforced to yourself that you hated Nagito Komaeda

   ...You were disgusted by the way you… just... couldn’t hate him. It didn’t feel right. Something felt… wrong in hating him.

  Your heart lurched, meeting his eyes again.

Why not? Why not just hate him, (Y/N)? Like everyone else…

Why was it so hard? You were supposed to be with Hajime. And Hajime hated Nagito. Everyone who knew Nagito hated Nagito. But… telling yourself you were anything but infatuated with that dangerous creature… was a lie. You owed everything, good and bad, to that feral, insane man.

Your nerves and the hairs on your arms pricked up like an agitated cat. Why why why? Why would he even do this? He knew what showing up here would start. He was born to start shit, to brew altercation, to cook up conflict. Maybe you should give him the benefit of the doubt? Perhaps he finally came to an event to support his darling step-brother, but the way he bore his fangs when his eyes met Hajime’s said otherwise.

❘ Leave. Just Leave. You're just here to antagonize me and I won't let you be a problem. Not today. This is my day… ❘ Hajime spat mentally, and his thoughts burned through your own and, you're sure, Nagito’s.

❘ Aren’t all the days yours, Your Majesty? ❘ Nagito’s thoughts were more severe, yet more playful, taunting, careless, a venomous snarl behind every synapse pulse.

❘ ...Leave. ❘ Hajime pulsed back in warning.

❘ ....Or what? ❘ Nagito’s own ominous threat reverberated through your cranium. You pressed a hand to your temple, an angry, stinging sensation pulsating through your head. Having a vampire read one’s mind was uncomfortable enough: feeling the slight probing and perhaps needing an aspirin after, but being the third line in a purebred pissing match… it was a call you desperately wanted to hang up on. But.. humans didn’t naturally hear a vampire’s thoughts on accident. No, you were hearing this conversation because you were meant to, someone wanted you to. You had no powers of your own, but Nagito kept you trapped in this nonverbal battle, strung up betwixt two immortal minds. You brought the back of your free hand up to your nose, wiping away a stripe of red vitality that began to flow from both nostrils. The panging inside, the angry shouting in your mind only got louder.

[jeeperso]

D&D Quotes Without context

Miscellaneous Edition, for those quotable lines from between sessions

"All I wanna do, is fork a giant woman! A giant woman!" "Jonni, I'm pretty sure she is some type of undead, probably a vampire. Are you sure that is a good idea?" "If I don’t get turned into a blueberry it won’t be my worst date." "Okay, but if you have to defend yourself just don't burn the place down for once." "Oh, Nyx. Sweet summer child. I never make promises we both know I won’t even try to keep." "Jonni, if I wake up to my bed surrounded in flames again I'm short-sheeting your next bed every night for at least a month." "I know you're trying to score here, but Lady Dimitrescu's daughters are literally vampires AND bugs. I can overlook one, but as a Paladin, it is my sacred duty to burn this place to the ground and stir the ashes."

"We don't let Marshall make breakfast anymore." "Those waffles are well-fortified." "I'm going to be charitable and call it hardtack." "We can use these waffles as melee weapons." "Well if we need to deflect siege engines they'll be good to have." "This is still carbon based and digestible by human systems without any poisons." "I can't serve this. It'll cause ... death." "Marshal we've been over this. This Pizza has 10% less of a lethal amount of grease." "Plus they signed the waivers when they bought a ticket. It's fine." "And don't forget to push the Cakeon." "Cakeon being slices of cake wrapped in bacon." "The special sauce is a mixture of mayonnaise, ketchup, mustard, ranch, horseradish, cheddar cheese, sour cream, and anything unfortunate enough to fall into the mixing vat."

"You do have a copy of the legal code I requested in my letter? As landed gentry you should actually have legal avenues to... I'm sorry did you say Burning child?"

"First I'm going to nail a crossbow bolt through your heart. Then I'm going to mount your balls to walls on opposite sides of this chamber." "I need Three Barrels of Butter" "Are you serious? Those Claws could crush an elephant in full plate!" "You're Right!" *Turns to first person* "We might need more than three barrels of butter."

"So Ioun is the patron of poor college kids. that scans "

"its hardtack or a mug of molten cheese-fried... something in a woven mug of bacon. your choice."

"Welp, all this coke ain't gonna snort itself..."

"Right hand me that dress and the bail money. I'll get Jonni." OOC: Well I mean they allow men in the city. Its just no men live in the city. "I stand by my statement. I'm allowed to look pretty every now and then." OOC: And dragons are the most unprejudiced lovers of anyone after bards.

OOC: Well I mean come on, its Ravenloft: saying a place is of death and madness is like making the observation the day ends in y. "Going out. Getting laid." "Jonni, she’s a werewolf." "Going out, forking a werewolf." OOC: Well Lycanthropy isn't usually sexually transmitted. Its just that Mercedes is a biter. OOC: ...I don't have an appropriate response to that.

"You seriously think I’d turn on my friends for a pile of gold?!?" "sigh I’ll show you my tits. "Hot damn, let’s get these murders done!" "No, Jonni, stay good. Besides, there are plenty of other girls who will do that without asking you to murder us." "Hmmmm… this is the moral quandary of my life…" "I’ll give you five bucks." "Scales tipped!" "Phew, I thought I was going to have to cover her next trip to the topless bar." "No, no, I have the bail money right here."

Nyx: So what’s the inside of Jonni’s head like? Edmund (with thousand yard stare): Imagine every ladies only smut magazine you’ve ever heard of going on forever into infinity while everything is on fire. Food was good though.

"It’s cool. They stole it." "And you know this how?" "Magic." “90% of Ravenloft deaths are mysterious vanishings.” "Why does everything come out covered in glitter and … is that …" "Lube. I’ve got a few theories." "Please don’t share them."

OOC: This is a plan that ends with Strahd having fewer brides, his castle is in flames, and he’s lost his cape.

OOC: Our team consists of a horny pyromancer, a gnome who can fillete you in five seconds, an HP lovecraft protagonist with actual magic backing them up, a literal slab of iron with a face, and a guy with a "I went to the eternal city of Ryleth and all I got was PTSD and this lousy T shirt". Gorbash smashing his shield into their face: "Have! You! Considered! Therapy!" OOC: Good news is you guys will no longer be the most conspicuous guys at the masquerade now. Jonni: Challenge accepted! "Nyx, the bounty on stealing his fake mustache is still on."

"Vanilla is the king of flavors. What does it say about society where vanilla is considered just 'regular'?" "That they have a lot of vanilla." Lash: "Don’t you want wishes?" Jonni: "Do I need wishes to get to see you naked?" Lash: "No?" Jonni: "Fuck ‘em." Vesh: "Oh dammit its my arranged fiance." Pit Fiend: "Milady." Vesh: "An extra wish to whoever punches this douchecanoe in the nards." Jonni: "I wish…for Bigby’s clenched fist of nard punching."

Soth: "Oh, gods, why am I on fire and why is Immigrant Song playing?" Jonni: "Take a guess." Hazlik: "Okay, so its a partridge, stuffed inside a chicken, stuffed inside a duck, stuffed inside a turkey, and the whole thing is fried on a stick. Congratulations, that's the most horrible thing I have ever seen, and I once crossbred an elephant and an owl." "I give him the 'itis, and we run like we stole something." OOC: ...weirdly Curse of Strahd has stats for Strahd zombies but not Strahd Skeletons. Or Strahd's skeletal Steed. Strahd once went to a branding seminar hosted by Bane and it changed his life.

"Are we on a high enough floor that if I throw him through the window he'll be killed by the fall?" "Oh, but when I say stuff like that it’s all 'Jonni, murder is wrong.'" "When they say pick your battles they don't mean to pick all of them. That's too many battles Jonni. Put some back." OOC: He's technically already got a symbiote. OOC: They can get married. Gorbash: "I'm increasing the rent." Venom: "Can I keep the pool table?" Gorbash: "I'm not a monster." Giant Brain: "Jonni… I have summoned you here for… WHY AM I ALREADY ON FIRE! PUT ME OUT! PUT ME OUT!"

"Hello We're the party-crashers. This is Jonni, she's here to steal your women and burn your shit down. That's Nyx, she's going to repatriate certain items from the premise. Marshal over there, is here to studiously ignore our shenanigans. This is the New Guy. He seems pretty chill. I'm Gorbash... and I have been distracting you."

"Will you walk into my parlour?" said a spider to a fly. Jonni: "Hold up. Trying to sex a spider." Nyx: (throws her hands up) And then Jonni wakes up with a spider venom hangover webbed to a wall waiting to be eaten. Jonni: "Eh, I’ve had worse one night stands. I’m not a fucking blueberry." OOC 1: Hey, where does your weed elf grow [her] crops? OOC 2: She probably just grows them in the room she hasn’t paid rent on. OOC 3: Because I was also considering a circle of spores druid tortle. OOC 2: We could be partners! We could turn this into road to el dorado staring Cheech and Chong. OOC: Wait, I just realized five people are hanging out in a pirate bar, and none of us are rogues. We are gonna need someone to get thieves tools. OOC: We have a barbarian with a big stick.

"Are we Foxhound now? Blunderbuss Octopus." OOC1: You want to put the stoner in charge of food. OOC2: Eyup. OOC1: I see no way this can go wrong! OOC3: We need the four basic food groups. Beans, Bacon, Whisky, and Lard. “We pray to Almighty Darkseid! Give us a sign! Thumbs up, for the triumph of the human spirit! Thumbs down to begin the everlasting reign of darkness!” “Where did you find this guy?” “Me? I thought you hired him.” OOC: Yup, nature, arcana, history, investigation and religon at +6. MJ got baked and watched the Discovery Orb a lot. Tordek: "But we have a cleric, Jozan, over there." Strahd: *sigh* Snaps fingers, and suddenly one of Strahd's brides sucks Jozan out the window, cue screaming. "Oh look, you suddenly have an opening, how fortunate." Tordek: "We also have a druid...." Vadania: "SHUT UP, TORDEK!" Edmund: "I think the first order of business may be to discuss your Human Resources strategy..." Strahd: "I have a guy for that too."

"When someone as smart as him talks with himself, it's not crazy...They call it monologing." "I thought it was soliloquy?" "No, soliloquy is when you're talk at someone else when your talking to yourself." "Most people would run from a demon, you run towards it to study it." Professor: "THIS IS ABSOLUTELY FASCINATING! A FROGHEMOTH, AND RIGHT UP CLOSE, IT WILL BE AMAZING TO SEE THIS PERFECT KILLING MACHINE IN ACTION." OOC: Also note the Professor is Lawful Good, Archie is Chaotic Good, so collectively they balance out to Neutral good. OOC: That's good. "The incinerations will continue until morale improves!" “You never incinerate the women!” “Because I’m fucking them!” “I… was not expecting you to be so honest about that…”

"You got what you wanted....but you lost what you had...." "Yes, I'm familiar with how capitalism works."

OOC: Dragons are like, “That’s Krandor the shiney. He only fucks other dragons. Weirdo.”

Gorbash: "D'awww, so tiny... perfect size... FOR PUNTING!" *boots tiny mind-flayer into the horizon*

"Dracula hasn't been spotted in almost recently. Whats he gonna do, destroy all we know and love like he definitely can?" "... my god you people are too stupid to live." "What are you doing in my house?" Gorbash: "...well Edmund has been reading your books, I've been sorting through your armory, Nyx and Irost has been going through your other shinies, Marshal has been cleaving anything monstrous that gets too close, and Jonni has been lighting things on fire to stave off boredom." Gorbash: "Okay Marshal, Jonni. Rock, paper, scissors over who gets [to kill] the bishop."

Jonni: "Did you really think this would make up for what you did?" Nima: "I… killed everyone you grew up with." Jonni: "Yeah, and I’m still not forgiving you for what you did to Eddie." Nima: "I am missing some key context here…" Nima: "Also I committed identity theft on you by having my new undead army tell everyone you are running the show." Jonni: "Oh, no. You’ve fooled the boar tribe. Who still haven’t figured out shitting in a hole." Nima: "Yeah I noticed that. I ruined two pairs of shoes attacking their camps."

[novantinuum]

Intake, Ch. 2

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: Teen Audiences 

Words: 3600~

Summary: While waiting in the van, Greg reflects on the current state of his son’s mental health, and his many questionable parenting decisions.

This is set multiple months pre The Future, and is a bonus Greg-POV follow up to a previous one-shot I wrote. No context of that is needed to understand this.

If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3 as well. AO3 link will be provided in the reblogs. Thank you! <3

____

Animated fireworks flash on Greg Universe’s phone screen, virtual fanfare for the virtual victor, as he clears the last king from the tableau. His brows shoot upwards in delight when he sees the final count of the timer. Wow, under three minutes. That’s close to a personal record. Not too shabby for a man who swears he finds a new strand of grey each and every week.

Another day, another successful round of solitaire in the bag.

Sighing, he almost clicks for a new deal, but then realizes it’s almost noon, and that his son is set to finish his first session any minute now. With that in mind, he switches off his phone and nestles it in the empty cup holder at his side, making sure it doesn’t touch the sticky soda stain covering a portion of the plastic. He’d kinda like to be paying attention when Steven exits the therapist’s office, rather than lose himself in a mindless distraction only to be startlingly yanked back to reality by timid knocks on the van door.

Timid.

If any word could be used to describe the way Steven dances around interactions with him these days, this one fits the bill. The boy will sometimes talk to him, sure, but it’s all small talk, short and curt responses, half-hearted shrugs. He’s positive there has to be more to his reluctance to fully engage, to even embrace him, but if so he’s not seeing it. At this point, the last time they had a true heart-to-heart conversation was on their road trip, before the crash. What on Earth happened? They used to be close. They used to share everything with each other, before he moved in with the Gems. Years later, he assumed they still did. And yet, after Dr. Maheswaran showed him the blunt reality of the X-rays on Steven’s chart... those dozens of healed-over fractures, speaking to a litany of injuries sustained throughout childhood, injuries he never knew about, all leading to trauma he never saw the signs of... he realized that, at some point, the two of them had drifted apart. When he was younger he thought he was correcting from his parents’ iron rule, letting his son have all the freedom he wanted. But was it too much? Was he that neglectful a father?

When did he stop paying attention to Steven’s emotional needs enough to miss his steep slip into mental distress?

He sighs, guilt lining the inside of his stomach like the burn of hard liquor coating one’s throat.

It’s not about me, he reminds himself. I can’t make it about me.

It’s the same mantra that kept him stubbornly pushing forward through waves of anguish and remorse weeks back, when his poor boy was roaring, slashing his claws at anyone that dared edge close, years of buried anger and pain thrown to the forefront in a veritable explosion of scales and thorns.

He glides his hand across the faux wood paneling on the dashboard as he consigns himself to recent memory, letting both his fingertips and his mind trace every dip and ridge of its grain. That was probably the most terrifying thing he’d ever witnessed in his life. His own son, disappearing in seconds into this... this monstrous thing, like all the corrupted Gems he used to see them fight from a distance but so, so much bigger. So much rawer. He genuinely thought he’d lost him forever that day. His own panic aside, he can’t even imagine what that experience must have been like for Steven. Remembering those heartbreaking three words he said before it happened, though, glowing pink on hands and knees, he’s not sure he wants to.

“Greg,” Dr. Priyanka Maheswaran says sternly as he exits the thrashed examination room, toting a clipboard under her arm. Her gaze, while undoubtedly sympathetic to the plight of the boy who’s currently changing back into his clothes in privacy, regards him with a fiery sort of reproval the likes he hasn’t squirmed under since he was a child himself. “We need to have a frank conversation about your son’s wellbeing.”

From the corner of his eyes he catches a blur of pink and faded denim blue pushing through the small office’s exterior door. Greg jolts to action, wiping what he fears is a self-pitying look off his face and attempting to replace it with something that looks halfway encouraging. Part of him’s terrified that no matter what he changes, it‘ll never be enough. He’s admittedly still at a loss for how to most helpfully interact with someone struggling with, erm... well, let’s be blunt— with long-untreated mental illness— but he’d do anything for his son’s sake at this point, even if that involves the hard work of addressing his own habits and convictions. He unlocks the van just as Steven walks up alongside.

He can’t help but briefly hold his breath the moment the passenger door opens.

The teen appears no different than he did when Greg left the office to sit in the van an hour and a half ago— his eyes are downcast, drawn with exhaustion, expression unreadable— but to be fair he supposes it’s silly to expect any drastic shift in mood after only one session. Right?

“Now, to be clear, I’m not licensed to diagnose mental disorders,” she explains, glancing up from her notes, “but from everything I’ve witnessed, tested, and heard from him today I have a strong suspicion that he’s dealing with post-traumatic stress.” Mouth pinched, she drops her clipboard on the counter beside them, its dull clap as it hits the laminate punctuating the sheer gravity of her words. “There’s my prognosis,” she says bluntly, palms spread wide. “This looks like textbook PTSD, ignored and overlooked for months.”

Greg lets the bitter reality of those four letters sink in, his eyes burning, throat dry, his heart cracking with despair at the very thought of— he only barely holds back what he’s sure in this circumstance, host to the scolding of a medical practitioner, is a pathetic sob— of his Steven, suffering through all these turbulent emotions for goodness knows how long, no one the wiser, no one noticing his silent cries for help, no one—

He... god, he didn’t know. He didn’t know! How could he have been so stupid to not have noticed?

“You do understand how serious this situation is, yes?” she continues when he doesn’t vocally respond. “How- how irresponsible it is to have never taken your sixteen-year-old son in for even, what? A simple check up? And, and—“ she holds her hands up before he can blurt out a response. “I know what you’re about to say. I know he’s half-Gem, I know he’s different than anyone else on this planet. But he has human needs, too, Greg! I just—!” Priyanka inhales deep, pressing her thumb against her temple as she pauses to catch her cool. “Pardon me. I’m sorry for snapping. I know you love him, and mean well with him, but at this point, we need to face the truth. That boy is hurting, badly. And if he’s going to have any chance of recovering from this, he needs your full support now more than ever.”

The passenger seatbelt clicks, the door already closed. Steven sighs under his breath, sinking into the time-worn, faded seat back. Greg studies his son’s face for a moment, noting with concern the lines of stress creased under his eyes.

“Hey, bud,” he says, his hands shifting to the wheel, nervously fidgeting as he waits for a response, any response.

“Hey,” he mutters, already pulling out his phone. (Probably to text Connie, if he has to guess. Greg counts himself thankful that he has this solid friendship to help anchor him at such a difficult point in his life. Simultaneously, his heart aches knowing the stress that girl’s surely gone through by choosing to be a support for him.)

“How... erm, how’d it go?”

He gives him a big shrug, his fingertips blazing across the screen in an almost dizzying display of dexterity. “It went.”

Greg’s fingers rap against the sun-stained leather. “You still game for gettin’ some food?”

“Yeah. That’s fine.”

Okay. Good. Lunchtime is a go, then, he thinks, diverting his notice to the keys in the ignition. Despite this, there’s a shade of disappointment that tints the atmosphere within this space. Unable to shake the harrowing feeling that he failed some sort of unspoken test with his son, he starts the van and— mentally plotting a course to that good Thai place Steven discovered a few months back— carefully pulls out of the cramped parking lot onto the main road, hoping that this extension to their time together may eventually chip away at the ice that’s formed between them.

Some classic rock plays on the radio as he drives, a band Greg distantly recalls hearing via his classmates in high school but can’t remember the name of. The singer’s mellow tenor effortlessly fills the gaps left behind in their timid silence. Briefly glancing away from the road, he catches Steven’s fingers tapping against his phone to the beat as he waits for a reply to his text, lips drawn. It’s an almost minuscule display, so subtle that any untrained eye might miss it, but witnessing this proof that his son is still very much capable of finding pleasure in music, however small said source of pleasure may be, he can’t help but smile. Soon enough, he passes the crooked street lamp on the corner of Glover and 4th that he always uses as a mental marker when navigating around the small town of Seaside, and takes a quick left at the next stoplight. It’s funny... this place is only twenty or so miles away from home, but given gas costs and his habitual frugalness, he hasn’t explored this county enough over the years to form a good internal map beyond Beach City. Perhaps now, with his son coming to this town every week for therapy, that will change.

The song ends on a sleek guitar riff, and quickly transitions back to the station’s upbeat radio personality.

“You’re listening to Dragon’s Hoard FM, your home for all of music’s greatest treasures! Next up, a trip down memory lane... to a fan favorite from the 1971 best-selling artist... welcome to the party, Kerry Moonbeam.”

Static pours through his nerves as the next number begins to play, (why now, why now, what cruel cosmic timing is this??), robbing all sensation from his fingers. His knuckles grow uncharacteristically pale as he clutches at the wheel, wrestling for dominance.

“Looking for your place in the universe...”

He doesn’t dare shift his gaze from traffic this time, but all he can see in his mind’s eye is that glowing, nauseatingly bright pink. The unwavering tension hanging over them, thick as smog, as their conversation grows terse and grim. His son at the helm, the demons of their past steering their trajectory far out of anyone’s control, as— angered and upset over what he now accepts are entirely rational things— he openly calls out his failures, his lack of structure, lack of attention, his—

“Don’t you know the universe is looking too~ Looking for its place in yo—“

And with the twist of a knob, it’s over. Some local station replaces those tense airwaves, bringing him relief from tainted memory in an instant. His hand quivers as it returns to command of the wheel. In the passenger seat, Steven glances up from his text conversation with that instinctual concern he’s so prone to, eyes blown wide and colored with equal parts confusion and sympathy.

Notably, there’s not a sign of pink.

Swallowing hard, Greg considers saying something in explanation, but in the tangled complexity of their current relationship he can’t think of anything worth saying. Eventually, his throat runs dry in his own silence. His son stops gawking at him like another problem to be fixed, attention drifting back to his phone. His muscles loosen in sheer relief.

He sighs under his breath as he slows for a pedestrian at the crosswalk. Willfully, he buries himself in the mindless drivel of the local talk show he switched to for the rest of the drive, allowing their distant voices to cover the aching, lonely gap torn in his heart.

____

They put in their order when the waitress arrives, Steven settling on pad thai with egg and tofu, and Greg falling back on an old favorite with fried rice and pork. She jots this down on her notepad in a jiffy, pours them some water, then hurriedly scuttles behind the curtain that separates the kitchen from the remainder of the restaurant. It is the lunch rush, after all.

Thankfully though, even amongst the rush the two of them were lucky enough to be seated at a cozy table nestled against the back wall, affording them a decent amount of privacy. There’s enough ambient chit-chat bouncing around the room that Greg doesn’t feel eaten alive by that aching isolation he endured on the almost silent drive over, but not enough that these people’s presence feels suffocating. Steven slowly sips at his water as he politely listens to his updates on Sadie and Shep’s blossoming music career. He’s not saying much in response beyond asking the appropriate follow-up questions and then nodding his head at his answers, but in the end, that’s fine. Even if the recent lack of depth to their conversations bothers him, even if his son’s silence shatters his heart, in his mind it’s not fair to pressure him to interact in a manner he‘s not ready for yet. Greg just needs to be patient. He’ll open up to him when the time is right. There’s no need to push so hard that the remaining threads stringing their relationship together snap altogether, which is— if he’s honest— the future he fears the most.

The one where he becomes no better than his own over-controlling parents.

With his fingers obsessively rapping alongside the side of his glass, he continues to make substance-less small talk, anything to aid in the illusion that the two of them can still carry a conversation together.

“So yeah, that’s where they’re at right now,” he says. “They said they’re gonna put a pause on the touring, and start working on a full album.”

“Nice. Good for them,” Steven responds, the lines under his eyes betraying his underlying exhaustion, even if it appears he’s trying his hardest to mask it. (But for who’s sake?) “And you, you’re still gonna...?”

“Be their manager, yes. That’s still the plan.”

“Cool, cool.“

Their words fade amongst the ambient chatter, neither immediately leaping to comment further.

He softly clears his throat. “And, uh... in the end, I’ll be there whenever they need me, y’know? They might decide they want someone else supportin’ them along some day, and that’s fine.” He wrings his hands together atop the table, watching his son closely. “I only want the best for them.”

The teen’s hollow glance flits across the restaurant, landing from person to person, his leg bouncing nervously under the table all the while. Upon sensing this, it suddenly hits Greg that this is the first time Steven’s been out in busy public beyond the familiar faces of Beach City. For a second he can’t help but fret that all this activity— therapist’s waiting room, awkward car ride, going out to a busy restaurant at noon— will only serve to stress the poor kid out, but then again... pressing his silent worries onto the situation won’t help anyone. The only thing that’s important right now is for his son to know he’s always loved. Always heard, always seen, from this moment on.

After all his failures as a guardian in the years prior, it’s the least he can do.

And then, as Steven’s gaze shifts back into focus, Greg can wholeheartedly sense that he’s mentally engaged, delicate machinery in his mind whirring away as he processes every facet of this conversation, this moment, this place. He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and then opens his mouth to speak.

“With Sadie and Shep, well...” He scratches at the back of his neck, not quite sustaining eye contact. “I’m sure that... no matter what the future holds, they’ll always appreciate the support you did give them. Even if some of that support maaaybe wasn’t exactly what they needed at the time,” he adds as an afterthought, voice falling soft.

Something within his chest unshackles upon hearing these words, their double meaning more than clear to him. He blinks hard, desperately trying not to utterly break down in front of his own kid. “Steven, I—“

His attempt to piece together a heartfelt response is interrupted by the arrival of their lunch, steam wafting off each plate as the waitress sets them both on the table. They both offer their thanks, and unwind their utensils from their napkins. He’s quick to dig in to his fried rice and pork, having not eaten a full meal since last night. Steven, on the other hand, picks and prods at his entrée, something he’s noticed has become a concerningly common occurrence in recent weeks. He still eats, thank the stars, but not with zeal.

Greg is already midway through his plate before by the time his son‘s just started to put a dent into his own. The teen twirls his chopsticks around a clump of noodles and bean sprouts, seeming more lost in thought than usual. A moment passes, and he opens his mouth as if he’s about to speak up, but quickly shuts it again.

His brow creases with equal parts worry and curiosity. “You got somethin’ on your mind, bud?”

Steven frowns, abandoning his otherwise proficient chopstick skills to stab the tip of one of them into a hunk of tofu. “I guess it’s just that... well... nothing about that appointment was what I expected,” he says, and lifts his utensil to take a bite.

“Oh, yeah?” he prompts, and leans into the table with a surplus of attentiveness. All the while, he’s waging a desperate internal battle not to seem like he’s clinging to his each and every word. (Just let him open up at his own pace, Greg. Don’t be suffocating. Encourage him, but give him time.)

“It wasn’t like, bad,” he murmurs softly, his blank gaze drifting across the ornaments and framed art strewn across the restaurant walls. “But we barely even talked about the last few months? I thought we would, but we didn’t. Instead, he just asked a lot of questions about you, the Gems, Beach City, what it was like growing up. Some clarification on the history of the Diamonds, and the war. I dunno,” he shrugs, and twirls his chopsticks through his pad thai again. “It was kinda strange.”

Greg reflects for a moment on his son’s words, recalling with a slight grimace the first conversation he and the Gems had with Steven about considering therapy. At first he was strongly resistant to the idea, almost indignantly so, claiming that he could “sort this all out by himself” given time, that no one could ever relate to his exact problems enough to be of any help, and that he didn’t want to make his stupid life someone else’s burden in the first place. And even when they managed to convince him to give it a try, he still admitted worry about finding someone who knew enough about Gems to be qualified to treat him. So in that case, he can understand if the teen feels a little nervous, being asked so many questions about his complex lineage.

“Yeah, I hear ya’,” he nods, and then— catching the inside of his cheek between his teeth, rapidly weighing the pros and cons of risking a more in-depth comment— “With what Dr. Maheswaran’s told me about therapy, though, that sounds about normal for a first session, for anyone.”

Steven visibly perks up, perhaps in relief that for once his experience isn’t a unique exception like many other things in his childhood... schooling, housing situation, etc. etc... have been.

“Really? What- what did she say about it?”

“Mostly that it’s important for therapists to build context so they can better understand their client’s current state, or something like that.”

“Huh,” he says thoughtfully, sitting back in his chair. “Well, I guess that makes sense.”

“In the end, you’re definitely not the only one in this boat, Schtu-ball. And that‘s gotta be a little reassuring, yeah?”

He smiles in response. It’s small, merely a slight upward tilt of his lip, but it’s there. “Yeah. I suppose it is.”

____

Their conversation fades back into small-talk after that, but by that point Greg doesn’t feel so bothered. Instead, he feels as if a colossal weight’s been lifted from his chest. He’s not sure Steven fully understands the gift he’s given him today, opening up a little about his inner life after so many long weeks of self imposed silence, but the reassurance it’s offered about the state of their bond is astronomical. It promises healing, a brand new chance to listen and understand.

To change and grow in relationship together, father and son.

“Hey, Dad?” he asks hesitantly as he climbs into the passenger seat.

“Yeah, bud?”

He diverts his attention from the dashboard for just a moment, just long enough to catch a glimpse of the teenager. Clutching their leftovers in his lap, Steven’s eyes land on the stack of CDs tucked into the door pocket.

“D’ya think we can listen to one of your albums on the way back?”

With a watery smile, he switches the van’s radio to disk mode.

“Take your pick.”

[musical-chick-13]

And Theon bc I love him

WHAT A COINCIDENCE I LOVE HIM TOO (this answer is gonna be a combination of books and show)

Send me a character and I’ll tell you the following:

• Did they live up to their potential? / In what ways was their potential unachieved?

-I would say yes. The only negative I have about his general arc is his death (which, see below). But Theon from the very beginning was, though not a particularly nice person, still relatable. Feeling othered, wanting to be accepted by an immediate environment that doesn’t accept you, isolated from and ostracized by your family, and the tension that comes between serving the different types of familial relationships in your life. Theon has no idea who he is, tossed aside by his blood family for not growing up with them and being “soft,” aka sort-of moral and having emotions that aren’t selfish rage or smugness (which, yep, that second part is a mood, see: my entire childhood and how no one wanted to be around an “emotional” “soft” child). And from there, he spirals out of control in a way that, while certainly not admirable by any stretch of the imagination, is still understandable in the context of the narrative and his characterization. And from there, after going through hell and quite literally losing himself (even to the point of straight-up denying rescue), he builds himself back up gradually, to the point where he expressed extreme regret for what he’s done, helps an innocent woman escape a truly horrifying situation, acknowledges that his family is generally garbage, and (in-show b/c again books aren’t finished), helping to restore his sister to power, rescuing her after his PTSD relapses while confronting Euron, and ultimately opting to protect the Starks come hell or high water in order to genuinely atone for what he’s done. He is no longer conflicted because he wants to do the right thing, and that right thing is defending the kingdom from the White Walkers and making sure Sansa and Bran are safe. And it’s no longer about fulfilling a duty or finding a family to fill the void. Because now he has found himself. I will contend that Theon has one of the best, most nuanced, most organic redemption arcs of all time. I will forever be grateful that I got to see that piece of storytelling unfold.

Although, I would love to know what he thought of Dany. A missed opportunity, that.

• How they negatively and positively affected the story.

-Positive: His arc of identity and finding where your loyalties lie ties into the overall theme of “How do you find yourself in a world where goodness, authenticity, and honesty are often punished and increasingly rare?” And it proves that governmental politics aren’t the only defining factors in decisions: familial politics can be just as difficult and dangerous, which adds yet another rich, complicated layer to the overall story. He has a genuine, honest-to-Drowned-God redemption arc, which is...not really present anywhere else in the story (no, Jaime is not on a Redemption Quest, I will die on this hill). But I think the biggest draw of Theon’s presence is that it deconstructs the whole “Character Revenge Fantasy” idea. He does bad things. We want him to be punished. But not like that. No one deserves that. How far is too far? What does retribution really look like? Given how easily that idea can be abused and go off the rails, is retribution even something to strive for? What is the point of using extreme violence/torture/mutilation/breaking someone’s psyche when it doesn’t really accomplish anything? Isn’t atonement and genuine justice a better option? It certainly was for Theon. He could only piece himself back together and do anything meaningful once he was out of his abusive environment. All of these are imporant questions that are posed by his existence in the narrative.

-Negative: Idk if I have much to say here. My biggest problem is his death (see below), but that’s not really a negative story effect so much as...being disappointing and narratively irrelevant. I gotta say, his introduction via his sister was...really weird. I genuinely have no idea why GRRM wrote that. It never came up again or had any kind of narrative ramifications and kind of cast a strange, uncomfortable light on his relationship with Asha/Yara for the remainder of the story. I can ignore and enjoy their later relationship it if I don’t think about it too hard, though, so I guess I’ll chalk it up to GRRM having a Bad Idea.

• What my favorite arc for them is.

-All of it?? Theon’s journey is kind of...one big arc, which is why I think it works so well. He has this overarching redemption plot which spans the entire series and informs every decision he makes (for good or for bad, depending on where in the aforementioned journey he is). The redemption arc isn’t bogged down with side plots or other pieces of narrative clutter, meaning it has time to grow and, thus, be gradual and realistic. If I had to choose a specific point, it’s probably when he tries to reintegrate back into society via supporting Yara. Gaining the Iron Islands’ support for her ruling, spiriting away with Euron’s fleet, and ultimately rescuing his sister after her capture. He can’t just go back into society. He’s scared. He has really bad PTSD. But he recognizes that putting his home in good hands is something bigger than just him because it’s Yara’s home, too. I just...I really love family relationships, y’all.

• What I think of their ending.

-I’m not really sure how I feel about this one. I get that the series is GrimDark™ and that people who make the right choice and fight for good die all the time, but Theon dying just felt...wrong. To me.

And, like...I get it. It makes sense to parallel his original descent into villainy (cemented by executing those two boys and pretending they were Bran and Rickon) with him dying to protect Bran himself. It ties into the whole very common trope of completing a full redemption arc by committing a completely selfless act at great personal cost. It’s kind of like the whole Missy thing in Doctor Who (which...hoo boy, that post is coming, make no mistake), where selfishness is directly opposed by making the ultimate sacrifice with no motivation for personal gain. And the fact that the last words he ever heard were “You’re a good man?” I cannot even begin to describe how much that makes me sob. But...honestly, I’m really tired of this idea that redemption has to end in death in order to be achieved or “complete.” I think it’s much more poignant to have a redeemed character live to help build a better world. Because what’s the point of telling people to be better if the “reward” is death? No one’s going to want to reform themselves if they think that’ll be the result.

I think the thing that Bugs Me™ the most is that Theon never really got to have a moment of peace when he was alive. Sansa gained the North’s love and at least had a secure childhood. Ned and Cat were happily married for years. Arya had parents who loved her and a good relationship with Jon. Jon fell in love with Ygritte and found his Night Watch Bros, and Robb (in show verse) had some very happy moments with Talisa. Davos put great stock in what he considered fulfilling friendships with Stannis and Shireen; Brienne was treated respectfully by Renly, Catelyn, and Sansa; Missandei and Grey Worm had each other and their friendship with Dany, who herself had many personal successes in her quest for the Iron Throne and saw the death of her abusive brother. Cersei even had moments with Jaime (who himself had several notable military victories and at least some time with Myrcella, as well as being gladly and deeply in love, however dysfunctional that love was), times when she successfully fought off enemies (including her dad), and some sweet moments with Tommen, as well as a huge victory via blown-up sept at the end of season 6. Theon was treated as a second-class family member by the Starks his whole life by being “traded” to them as a condition of war resolution AS A BABY, is immediately disparaged and mistreated by his immediate family when he tries to return to them, makes terrible decisions that almost cost him his conscience completely, is brutally tortured by Ramsay, is on the run with his sister from Euron almost immediately after, and has a PTSD attack that ultimatly results in him having to launch a rescue mission. And then he fights ice zombies. And then he dies. He never really...got to be happy at all? There was never any kind of “win” for him. Not even survival. The narrative couldn’t even give him that.

TLDR: Theon’s death seemed less shock-value-y than others (like, for example, Shireen or Missandei or, heck, Melisandre even), and it isn’t the worst thing I’ve ever seen. It’s narratively-informed and it makes sense as an emotional through-line, but, ultimately, Redemption Cemented By Selfless Death is a tired trope, and I honestly thought this story (which...you know...serves as a deconstruction of common fantasy tropes/book tropes in general) was better than that.

• When I wish they had died. / If I think they should’ve died.

-So here’s where we get personal™ kids.

So, it’s no secret that I am...severely mentally ill. I’ve talked about expression/presentation of mental illness in regard to Cersei a lot on this blog, and how that (as paradoxical as it may seem) helped bring a sense of comfort and emotional resonance to me. Theon, post-Ramsay, has, I think, a very clear case of PTSD. Theon is one of the few characters I’ve seen where his mental illness isn’t the cause of the bad, violent, dangerous choices he makes. It only takes root after he has made the decision and conscious effort to better himself, and it, rather than demonizing him, serve to humanize him. His trauma didn’t define him. And although a PTSD attack led to him unintentionally losing Yara to Euron’s capture, he makes every effort to rescue her, a goal he does end up achieving. It is so rare I get to see a character who goes through these things, successfully fight them and come out with positive qualities at the end. Like...switching topics a bit here, Jaime going back to King’s Landing to (try to) escape and ultimately die with Cersei made sense to me because, as Jaime says, he is a hateful man. He never made much of an honest effort to be anything else. And he never truly wanted to be good; he just wanted to be liked. He wanted to adopt some personality that would make him feel less disconnected from the rest of the world. But Theon...genuinely feels remorse for everything he’s done. He makes a concerted effort to do everything in his power to improve the lives of people he believes are good and deserve to be safe. So, just...killing him off in a Completely Selfless Sacrifice (like...you know how a lot of mentally ill people put themselves through suffering-like OCD rituals, bottling feelings, self-harm, even suicide-in a misplaced attempt to “help” or “protect other people”) seemed antithetical to everything we saw of his arc.

Ultimately, with such a humanizing, empathetic portrayal of trauma and mental health struggles, seeing Theon be killed off just...pissed me off. I am so tired of seeing mentally ill characters die. I really want to believe that I can live through and thrive in spite of the things that afflict me, and I get example after example of characters not being allowed to do that. It feels awful, quite frankly. And it makes hope that much harder. 

I also just feel like...there was nothing the story gained from his death? I get the thematic parallels as mentioned earlier, but it didn’t really move the story forward in any significant way. It didn’t motivate other characters to do anything, it had no political ramifications, it didn’t serve to contribute to any kind of happy ending or commentary on society, it just...was sad. Again, I thought this story was better than that.

[flow-green]

Fresh dog onwer and a Fuck-It-Diet

Slowly I am crawling out from my black hole. Few months of silence has been broken. I disappeared for a bit due to quite severe reason. I will not reveal it here in details, if anyone is interested, feel free to DM me :). It was not related to my ED. Life just happened and decided to throw quite a tricky challenge on my way, which luckily got solved in a positive way, and within March I managed to pick myself back up again.

These two months were quite adventurous and opened my eyes on many levels. I started to appreciate more what and who surrounds me and how dear and important my family and close ones are to me. I realized that I hurt them with my self-destructive behavior and this constant worrying over me is an unnecessary burden and a source for stress. So, I am really grateful for this experience. More and more I have started to let go of the restrictions and demons in my head and slowly move towards a mentality that my body is my own temple, my own home and serves me and myself only, and not someone else. Or, well, perhaps in an uncertain future it will be a temporary home for another person, so I should really take care of my body.

These last two weeks have opened my eyes even more, because by a happy accident I stumbled upon a book, but more on that a bit later. First, I would like to tell you about one of the biggest changes of my life, which has brought so much happiness and positivity to our lives. Namely, we now have a new family member. No, I did not have a baby (a bit ironic in this context...), but now there is a constant cheerful pit-a-pat on our floor, made by four cute little paws. On February 16 we got an unexpected opportunity to get a dog! Charlie has now been with us almost 2 months, 2 amazing months. In his quite unique size and unknown breed (we suspect a fox is somehow involved...) he has turned us into these crazy dog lady and sir, you know, like a crazy cat lady.

I think if people saw us right now just the three of us in our natural habitat, they would never ever dare to do any official busines with us.

Anyhow, here he is. Charlie even has his own Instagram account (another sign that we definitely are not normal)

Mr. Dog has a massive amount of dog fur which happily floats all over the house and if we vacuum the entire place on Wednesday morning, all the fur bunnies have taken their natural place back to themselves.

Charlie is cool. With his happy face he rides with us to all the places around the country, he loves car rides. Every weekend we go to some new place in Estonia to explore, our 10 km (over 6 miles) hikes have become our cool new habit. One morning was especially special. We both lost our sleep around 4 AM in the morning and after an hour of chit chat in the bed while Charlie still slept between us (yes, he is a heavy sleeper and definitely not a morning person and yes, he sleeps in our bed. Deal with it), we decided that enough of bedtime and no more sleep. let’s wake up as the sun will rise at 6 AM. Let’s make some breakfast and lunch to go, watch the sunrise with coffee and then go to an early hike in Käsmu, around the epic seaside in Northern Estonia. Done deal. This was one of the most amazing days in my life.

Charlie is just like a therapy dog. Every time when I feel like breaking down in tears, I hug Charlie tight and let him comfort me with his soft cuddles and confident and wise eyes. All the sorrow and worries are gone. Charlie has also made us so active physically. We take several longer or shorter walks throughout the day. I have started to really love walking and running again and for me, for myself, and not for calories or for punishment. I am not counting distance or pace anymore. Every evening I fall asleep, happily excited about my upcoming morning run. I truly enjoy every last step I take.

But, as I promised, a few lines about my new ‘diet’ called The Fuck It Diet. Recently, I pampered myself with another e-reader and this motivated me to search some books which are suggested for people struggling with eating disorders. ‘The Fuck It Diet’ popped up and caught my eye. I managed to get it as an e-book and eagerly dug the pages in. The first lines already made my jaw drop: at first with anger towards the stated facts and later on because of complete understanding.

This book has totally topsy-turvy’ed my views as it describes my current situation in exquisite correct details. My whole belief system about diets, eating habits and weight numbers have completely changed. The whole book teaches you how to get rid of food addiction, self-esteem issues and obsession about body image and weight.

Why have I spent over 10 years battling with anorexia, bulimia and binge eating disorder? Why do I relapse in my hardest moments and total body hating world into an absurd calorie restriction, where I lose 6+ kg in 2 months, can keep myself skinny, yet sad for maximum 3-4 months, because I will not allow myself to eat anything as I want to lose even more to keep some buffer weight, then get tired and surrender and then eat back all those lost pounds and even more within few weeks? Why can’t I lose weight if I decide that instead of starving myself instead, I will go on some new diet, but this gives no result, weight will not drop, I get frustrated and get back to purging out food or get back to bingeing? Why does this wheel go round, and round and my weight will keep fluctuating vigorously and never stabilizes? Who do I go from one extreme to another? I have punished and scolded myself for years. I have tried to search or reasons: perhaps my genes are messed up and I am forever destined to keep my intake at 500 calories, so I can keep myself in that sweet spot of underweight and normal weight (because that is the only acceptable weight range for me. Sick, isn’t it?)

And then I got my answer: it is not about me or my genes. It’s because of these diets, no matter how beautiful the creators have painted them. It’s because human body has not meant to follow absurd rules about eating, be it fasting, LCHF, keto, paleo, raw vegan, or even mindful eating (eat slow! Rate your hunger! It’s under 10? You are not about to collapse from hunger? Good, drink some lemon water instead. See? Another bunch of rules to stress your brain out).

Most people commute from one diet to another, follows the rules and counts the calories for few months and then a relapse enters. it always does. Then, you will buy another diet plan, which promises even better results. You will haul for absurdly expensive foods like nut butters, almond flour, coconut oil. You replace your favorite foods with some silly alternative. You Google why the hell do I have a massive craving for Chocolate, which of course is your forbidden food. Google tells you have a magnesium deficiency (which might actually be true you know), but the solution: eat 12 almonds and forget about the chocolate. Be honest, that answer frustrates you a bit, deep down. So, instead to go and buy the damn chocolate and make your brain shut up, you force the craving down because FORBIDDEN! But at some point, you still go, buy the chocolate, eat it, and then promise yourself that now you will not touch another piece of chocolate once in upcoming months, will also restrict your intake a few weeks and eat your almonds. And are miserable. And then you eat some more chocolate. And are miserable again. Round and round, it goes.

And you gain those 10 pounds back. WHY, for the love of god?

Simple: your body has no clue whatsoever anymore, what the hell is going on. Years and years, you have kept your body in an unnatural state of starving, famine. Dietary culture has taught us that in order to lose weight all nice, you need to keep yourself in a calorie deficit and this should be around 1200-1500 cals in a day, maximum calorie intake cannot be more than 2000. You count every bite, every mouthful, you write it all down to MyFitnessPal. You eat your food, but you still crave for something more and are already worried about your next meal: can I eat something soon? What can I eat for dinner? Dude, you JUST ate, and you SHOULD feel full. If you don’t, there is obviously a problem. If you are full and STILL want something, there is obviously a problem. And your body is screaming at you the only solution. You worry about food 85% of your day (for me it was 100%, yes, even when I was having sex. Just SPECTACULARLY awesome!)

Body is not stupid. Body now has been taught that no matter what, there is always a next diet and famine state around every corner all the time. Body is scared. Body listens to the brain which constantly repeats those endless rules about eating. No chocolate, no pizza, bread is bad, cheese is bad, ice cream?! Are you stupid? Only a mango sorbet, something sugar free and watery or even better: make your own ice cream from banana (but remember, only HALF A banana!). Forbidden fruit is always the sweetest and then you will go and buy 2 liters of ice cream and eat it all in one go. You will torture yourself afterwards because ice cream is forbidden. You cannot eat it; you need to restrict and go for a 20-k run.

Now comes the most sillies, but the most logical fact: in order to break the cycle, there is only one simple solution: EAT! Everything. A lot. Eat it all that you have craved for years and years and have vetoed. Eat your cravings. Eat even when you are not hungry. Just eat whenever you feel like it. Eat until you are absolutely 100% satisfied and say honestly: no more. This process can take weeks, months, even years, depending on the individual. People in the book describe how they needed three whole years to reprogram their body back to its natural cycle. And it is scary, boy it’s scary. But you just need to take the leap into the water full speed, no splashing with your toes a bit to test the water. The faster you jump, the faster you get the wheels running. Result? Body calms down. Brain can finally rest and reprogram itself back to the way it must be. No food is forbidden anymore (unless you have a severe nut allergy. Please do not eat nuts if you might actually die). The brain now knows that whenever it wants something, it can actually get it, no strings attached, and calms down.

Yes, your will gain weight, sorry, this is not all strawberries and cream (yum, now I want strawberries and cream, will get some for dinner). At first, your body will not trust you. Would you trust yourself if you have been treated miserably for years? It is certain that it’s a trick and another diet is just around the corner. It takes time for it to calm down and start functioning the way it was meant to be. Weight will go up until the body heals and then... it will stop, the weight will naturally balance out, probably even go back down between the weight set points that everyone has, depending on your body and personal physical factor. I know that my middle goldilocks zone is about 5-6 kg more than my absolute lowest weight (right now I am around 10 kg heavier than my all time lowest and it is still in between my weight set points) and I am now completely okay with that number.

And I have now practiced this approach for half a week. Day before yesterday I had some Hesburger (McDonalds basically; had a vegan burger with FRIES), yesterday I ordered myself a vegan pizza without a second thought, with vegan cheese and everything, the whole package. I have now eaten ice cream for 4 days straight (one of my biggest forbidden foods), some vegan desserts. And yesterday I had my first shocking moment. I bought myself another ice cream after the pizza and right after I had bought it, I realized, that I actually do not want it right now. I have no craving. I got home and threw it in the freezer. After my dinner of soup and grilled cheese (!!!), I decided that I am going to eat the ice cream now. I had eaten half of it when I felt that I don’t want it anymore. I still finished it as it was a really small cone, but it was clearly more than enough. The rest of the evening I had no more cravings at all, no hunger. I didn’t even think about food anymore. I just enjoyed the movie with my SO and Charlie. Usually after dinner I was already overthinking about my next meal that was obviously hours away in the morning as no food after 6 PM and I definitely want something as breakfast is so far away, and besides, I try to postpone breakfast anyway as much as possible because intermittent fasting 16 hours +, which made me especially cranky and created countless of mornings with fights and tears with my SO. But now... no cravings and hunger for the entire night. Today morning I woke up with stomach still full from last night. I did not think about foo. Few hours later I bought some oatmeal, carrots, and hummus – and not because it is super healthy, and I am not allowed to eat anything else. No. I actually had a massive craving for carrots and hummus and oatmeal. For lunch, we decided to take some local hand-made burgers. I ordered vegan burger, but as a naked version without buns. Once again, not because empty forbidden bread calorie, but because I actually wanted that hearty vegan patty to sit on a pile of fresh leafy greens, peppers, tomatoes, and cucumbers. My stomach was still quite full of carrot snacks and past dew days’ fast food. I had no inner battle about this with craving vs forbidden food. Nope, I actually did not want any bread or bun.

That was around 3 PM. And hours later I am still full. Back then I had a sever fear over next meal or even a desperate need for additional snack (a forbidden chocolate, ice cream or something similar), but nooo, forbidden, which made the craving and fear even worse.

I have not thought about food today anymore, except now that I write this.

I have gained weight, yes, and it scares me to the core, and I confessed this few days ago to my SO. He looked at me with surprised eyes and said that to be honest, he has not even noticed I have gained, he only realizes this when I have days with severe low self-esteem and when I try to hide my naked body. I think the gain is around 5-6 kg (over 10 pounds), which is not even that big of a deal. Of course, I see and know I have gained, because my clothes now fit kind of perfectly, some rare pieces are a bit tight (I’m in XS-S size, 4-6, and clothes used to be kind of baggy even. Girl, do you need more proof that you are NOT FAT?), my legs are not super-tight sticks with a thigh cap and my collar bones do not press out. I have now extra inches on my body and probably this is the most difficult thing to accept. Recently, I saw over years that the first weight number of 5 has turned into 6 (in kg), over night, which means it was probably water weight from weekend of drinking and salty foods, so this means the actual one is still few kg lower, but the fear is still very real and at that moment I realized that I am tired of crying over a pair of numbers. I am so done. On this day, I asked my partner to hide the scale so I would not now where it is. I went for my morning run and when I came back, I saw him grinning and the scale had disappeared.

On Saturday we went to a birthday party. There was a hot tab with out-doors transportable sauna. Everyone was wild from happiness, except me. I had my bikini with me but for few days already I had stressed out that I will not join the tub, I will not expose my fat body like that. But my friend suggested me to break down the stubbornness, overcome my fears and just do it. No one will judge me, nobody notices, nobody even cares. All those fears are demons in my head. At the party I was sure that I will not go. But then, at some point, I gave myself a mental kick on the butt and went for it. And I am not sorry. I had a blast! Didn’t seem like anyone was giving me looks from head to toes and judged me with their eyes ‘god she is fat!’

This week has been tough, but I now have so many small wins in my bag and overcoming several problems - something I thought I can never do. My motivation has skyrocketed. I could never believe that there might be a time where I am not thinking about food so obsessively. Of course, I know that this is just the beginning of my healing and a long way is to go. I do believe it takes months to amend the damage done in over 10 years.

One of my first fears when reading the book was: What if I eat myself to the absurd size of 400 lbs. seen in those scary reality shows. And my brain gave me the logical answer right away: those 400pound people are also mentally sick, obsessive over food. They have eaten themselves to the slaves of food from very early stage of their lives, being influenced by family, social environment and whatnot, but I am only in my early thirties and 80% of my life I have eaten well-balanced foods and been in the normal weight range, some years I struggled with slight overweight due to puberty and stress from massive changes in life, but this sorted itself out naturally as I got rid of the puberty hormones and stress, weight fluctuated minimally, until I hurled myself head first to the world of diets and eating disorders,

So, most definitely I cannot eat myself to a 400 lbs., it is not physically possible. Perhaps the most real case scenario would be me gaining to 65 kg +, which is coming close to small obesity, but even this is not highly possible as I see that when eating normally, I cannot fit that much food in me and when my metabolism actually heals, the weight should stabilize out and probably even go down a bit. That would actually be a dream: that it will stop going up AND DOWN. I really  want that mental and physical stability back.

I miss a normal life. I am in a seriously perfect relationship which has been really close on the edge of abyss because of my sickly behavior. I have gambled with so many good things in my life and almost lost it all. Enough, seriously. I have

[eltanin-malfoy]

2019 Draco/Reader Secret Santa Fic Exchange - Secrets and Snowflakes

pairing: draco/slytherin!y/n (gender-neutral)

word count: 2.2k   

warning(s): foreshadowing/general cluelessness, fluff, cursing

prompt: “The reader knows Draco has too much on his mind and offers that they go on an evening walk at Hogsmeade? Snowball fights ensue, snowman building (although Draco thinks it's silly), and maybe some kisses in between making snow angels?”

a/n: MERRY CHRISTMAS!!! so, this is it! I wrote a part with snow angles and snowman building but i cut it out later because i thought it didn’t fit too well with the rest. hopefully, i don’t disappoint :) (also shoutout to thesaurus.com, the real mvp) also ngl i’ve never seen snow, so this is basically my best guess of how it is. hopefully i’m not too off? lmk what you think. ALSO, this was written for @accio-taurus i hope you like it <3

taglist: @acciodracoo @drawlfoy @war-sword @socontagiousimagines @andreasworlsboring101

‘A tall blonde leans back into the emerald-dyed leather of the sofa he is parked on, right opposite the burning embers in the fireplace before him. His face is terrifyingly gaunt, characteristic of a beast who’s been running on empty for long enough, or on the blood of his enemies, rather. He is ridiculously rapt in writing on the parchment he seems to be clutching onto for dear life, the exquisite quill in his hand seeming to rattle off in rapid speed, ink leaving lines that were barely legible.’

Goddammit. This situation was dull even as you tried your best to interpret it interestingly. If only real life was some sort of mystery and Draco was a contract killer, detailing a plan for his next ordered murder. But no, he was too fainthearted to ever get up to something like that. Perhaps it would be more pleasant if this was a tale set in the sixteenth century and he was inditing a letter proclaiming his affection for his beloved. Then again, that wouldn’t be that much fun, considering his beloved was sitting right beside him, mortifyingly bored. 

He was the only one actually engaged in doing something other than people watching (or maybe person watching would fit more, in this context). But what even was it he was so engrossed in writing? What kind of work was he so interested in that he’d even ignore his lovely in the secluded common room for it? You leaned over to peak at it. 

But, eh, Draco was as secretive as ever. He immediately folded the pages in his lap, covering any text which was still visible with those large hands of his. You rolled your eyes at him and he grit his teeth, seemingly in defence, but his expression soon softened. “Some privacy, please.” He uttered, lowering his glance tentatively, then returning to his work.

You huffed and sat upright again, almost wishing the sofa would just swallow you outright. Maybe that would make things a bit more interesting. You wondered whether Draco would even try to save you, or whether he would just sit the way he was, scribbling away about Merlin knows what. Draco certainly wasn’t going to change up the situation on his own accord. So, you began to think it would be wise to switch things up, or at least try to.

“Draco~” You slinked over towards him, bringing your arms underneath his own and coiling them around his waist. He glanced to the side and folded the sheets of paper in his lap again, but slower this time. “Mhm?” He managed out, tucking them into his pocket and in a sudden act of warmth, turning to face you and placing his hands on yours. 

“Why are we just sitting like this?” He narrowed his eyes. “Would you rather we stand?” He drawled out, then let his lips quirk up in the slightest of smiles. “That’s not what I mean…” You leaned over to press a kiss to the side of his mouth. “We’re supposed to be spending time together, and you’re just working. Or, like, whatever you’re doing. I don’t have a clue, it’s not like you’re ready to share it with me.” He sighed and rested his head over yours, shrugging and suddenly making you aware of how tense his body was, even in your grasp. 

“You know I’m busy.”

“Yeah, on something you can’t even tell me about.”

“It’s just… with Father off.. and mum, you know how she is.”

“Yeah, she loves you so much she had you stay at Hogwarts for Christmas.”

“Y/N, no. It’s just... a thing, alright. It’s just not easy to explain.”

“You always say that!”

“Because it’s always true! It’s not like I made you stay here with me. Maybe you sh-” “Calm down. I-I don’t want to have a fight with you on Christmas Eve.”

He nodded and gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing uncertainly. You sat in silence for a few moments, letting your gaze drift down and take him in. What little of his skin you could see in that cable-knit black sweater of his was still that light tone of greige you’d grown used to by this point. He’d blamed it on getting a sunburn in the summer, but now that it had stayed unchanged for so many months, you’d understood that he’d lied. It’s not like you hadn’t asked him why he looked so very... different from how you’d last seen him the year before, but he’d asked you for some space, and for some reason, you’d decided to give him that much. Surely, having your father imprisoned (in Azkaban, that too) meant you’d need that much. Or at least, you thought so.  

“Draco.” “Yes?” “Why do you look like you’re about to attend a funeral?”

He smiled at that. Genuinely. Even the reddened skin beneath his eyes crinkled slightly at it. 

“Shut up.” 

“No, seriously.”

“It’s just… my taste in fashion. What am I supposed to say?” “Your taste in fashion is funeral clothing?”

“You know what? Maybe it is.” 

 His chest heaved slightly and you realised he was laughing. At your awful, awful joke. Such a sweetheart. You kissed his cheek, taking advantage of the lack of other Slytherins around, at least at the moment.

 “Oh, come on. It’s nearly Christmas! You’re supposed to look a little bit merrier than that!”

“Christmas themed clothing isn’t really my forte.” “Fine, but you look like you’re literally en route to a funeral. Scribbling out a eulogy even.”

“I can live with that.”

“Fine!”

You giggled and nuzzled his neck, inhaling deeply. He’d stopped smelling as expensive as he used to and you weren’t exactly sure why. But then again, you could guess. You supposed it didn’t really matter. The Slytherin common room felt a little bit homely like this, with the two of you all alone and in love. You looked at the fire, then back up at him. His eyelids were shut, and he’d only now begun to relax.

“We should do something together. Something festive and romantic.”

“Y/N… I’m not going to lie to you. I’m not exactly in the mood for that at the moment.”

“Ugh, you’re disgusting. That wasn’t what I was implying in the first place, pervert.”

“Then what were you implying?”

“A walk.” “What, when it’s so cold and snowy out?” “Hey. For the sake of romance, alright? And it’s not even that bad. It’s pleasant. It’s so pretty out.”

“Please, for me?”

He opened his eyes and tilted his head to face you the best he could. He bit down on his lower lip, pearly whites almost complementing the pallor of his lips. He shut his eyes again, fair lashes brushing against his cheekbones, before he opened them up again, grey eyes dilated and almost woozy. “Alright, I suppose. Where do you want to walk to?”

“Hogsmeade.”

***

“It’s cold.” “Yeah, no shit.”

 You held his gloved hand as little snowflakes rained down on you. Draco pulled the hood of his brown parka (definitely a gift from his mum) over his head and scrunched his nose, looking up at the sky in concentration. His cheeks, and even his nose, were flushed, a dusty rose thanks to the cold. God, he was so adorable. Even while he looked unhealthily pale.

“The things you do for love, I suppose.” “Uh, yes, of course. Can’t you handle a little chill? ‘S not that bad.” “... I like the warm weather a little more, you know that.”

It was almost ironic coming from him, an extremely pale person who could get sunburnt within seconds. Sometimes you really wondered what he’d gotten up to during his holidays. You knew he’d visited some part of Asia before on vacation, but other than that, did he just loiter around his estate? He’d probably gotten up to a little less mischief this time, though, what with his father-

“You know,”

“No, I don’t.” “You know, it’s not awful.” “Did you think it would be awful? You’d still be out with me, right?” “Eh, only makes it a little bit better.” He smirked but gulped again, the curl of his lips more nervous than anything else. He squeezed your hand but looked away again, his gaze oddly distant. 

“Are you alright?” “‘Course.”

You looked out at the cotton white expanses of land near you, right at the outskirts of Hogsmeade. And very suddenly, a very devious train of thought hit you. You bit your lip and fixed up the beanie over top of your head, pulling it down tightly to cover your ears and whatever other skin it possibly could. You pulled your hand away from his and pulled the hems of your sleeves up to cover what little of the skin of your wrists was exposed. 

“Are you cold?” “No, not really.” “Hm.. alright. We can go for a hot chocolate if you like.”

“No.. I’m more in the mood for some snow.” “Um.. sure, I suppose I don’t mind.”

Draco turned to the side and put his hand in his pocket, taking out the same parchment again. And then you knew, it was definitely appropriate to take action. You knelt to the ground and carefully reached for the ground, balling up some snow in your fist. You were thankful you had gloves on because even with them on, you could already feel them getting damp. The slight breeze and the tiny little snowflakes blowing past you obviously weren’t helping.

You shivered and looked towards the lanky boy who’d come with you, but he was clearly just absorbed with whatever was written on the paper in his hands. “You know, I should’ve made you leave those behind.” He shuffled slightly and swallowed again. “Hm? What?” He kept looking down. You stood up and shook your head. He deserved this, didn’t he?

You threw the ball of snow you’d managed to make forward, but instead of hitting his chest, as you’d wanted to, it hits his arm. In retrospect, this was probably more advisable. Draco jumped where he stood, letting out a squeal. “What the fuck?” He shoved the parchment into his anorak’s pocket haphazardly and looked down at you, eyebrows crinkled and forehead deeply furrowed. He brought his hand up and set it on the now wet part of his coat.

“Oh, come on, Draco. It’s just a bit of fun.”

“This is fun? Are you actually twelve years old?”

“Draco! You can have a snowball fight at any age.” “Yes, and be childish!” “You say that, but I know how competitive you are.” “What? I won’t do something so... immature, though.”

You wiggled your eyebrows at him and he just rolled his eyes. He looked to the side and shrugged his shoulders, stretching out each of his limbs one by one. You then took the liberty to lean down and throw a snowball at his back. He moaned in surprise, stumbling on his feet. “Merlin, you know what!” He turned and faced you, hands on his hips. “It’s on.” He bent over and balled up a handful of snow himself, but of course, you were a step ahead of him. “Protego!” You called out, your wand drawn as the translucent shield manifested itself in front of you. 

“Hey! That’s cheating!” “All’s fair in-” “Shut up. This is unfair! I didn’t even get the chance to do that myself. Come on.” “Dr-” “Be a sport, come on.”

You sighed and put your wand away, the barrier in front of you fading away as Draco aimed for the front of your body. Ouch! Oh, this was war, and you were so ready.

***

Here you were, nearly twenty minutes later, crouching by the ground together. Tears (? or maybe it was just melted snow?) were dripping down your cheeks, your lungs practically about to burst while the two of you were probably laughing harder than you had in ages. The colour on his cheeks really suited him and you couldn’t help but wonder why you hadn’t seen it in so long. You crept closer to him and put your arms around his shoulders.

“You look so happy.” Peck. “I missed this.”

“Spending time together? But we always do that.” “Yeah, but.. you’re always preoccupied. You’re either just working on something else at the same time, or just… thinking about something else.” “I’m sorry, but you know how it is… with my father.” “I know, but, you don’t even talk to me about it.”

“I… I can’t-” “You know you can tell me anything.”

“No, I know, it’s just that... I can’t.”

“Why not? You act as if you’re on some secret mission or something.” “What?!” Blood rushed to his face.

“I-I mean, you’re always so secretive about everything you’re doing. You say it’s just… extra prefect duties but I don’t even see the others doing anything like it.”

“It’s really not-”

He pressed his lips together and just shook his head. That distinct greyish tinge to his skin was even more evident against the snow, you realised. What was up with him?

“Listen, it’s not worth getting into a fight over.. whatever this is. And you know everything I can even tell you. So, just-just remember… that I love you.”

“You can’t just silence me over this, but I suppose it can wait. I love you too.” And you pressed a kiss to his lips, soft and smiling and still stumped. The questions you’d been holding back for a long time were right at the surface now, you were too curious to leave them be. But you thought Christmas cheer was good enough a reason to withhold them.

[yutaya]

Iron Fist Rewatch 1x04: Eight Diagram Dragon Palm

Danny, struggling to pull himself onto that light post thing with his probably now bruised chest: "I dedicate myself to the service of all beings of K'un Lun-" *falls* So is this a recitation they do in training - is he trying to use that mindset to help him climb this beam? Is he doing some sort of traditional ask-the-gods-to-bless-me-with-strength thing?

Lol somehow I had remembered it as Danny crawling up again anyway after the initial push. I forgot they actually went and collected him. Guess that makes them look more favorable to him than my own recall though...

On the coffee table directly facing Danny when he wakes up, probably meant to be a sign to him about where he is and who has so kindly rescued and tended to him after his unfortunate tumble off a building: the formal pic of Harold and children, another photo hard to make out - my first thought was the vacation photo of the 6 of them but it's very sepia, could be something else. Maybe if I look back at other photos we've seen before I could match it.

Danny: "What happened to me? Last I remember I was climbing up-" Ward: "Yeah, like goddamn Daredevil." LOL

UGH THIS WHOLE HAROLD INTRO SCENE UGH Danny mad at Ward one second and then Harold appears and it's like the breath is punched out of him. Looking at Ward and Ward just calmly looking back because he clearly knows what's going on and Danny doesn't - it's as if they're bringing him into their confidence on something. This is a form of offering Danny something he wants - to be a part of something with the only family he thought he had left, not to mention the miracle of one of his parent-figures being alive again. (Wow, what a journey. From finding out Harold is dead and then Ward and Joy both quite clearly rejecting him and denying him a place in their lives to Joy actually doing something to indicate maybe at least she still wants him around after all? To wait, Ward and Harold bringing me in on something too? It's like the dream he clung to in K'un Lun got snatched away and now seems to be trickling back, and - UGH.) "You see him too?" because Danny thought he was seeing things that night at the hospital but this- this is real? Ward's sad, small nod because he knows so much more about Harold than Danny does, and he's seeing this innocent joy (word choice intended) while knowing himself to be wary and that this is almost definitely another manipulation (but what if it's not? What if-? But Harold is still dangerous, he can't help it, there's a reason Ward wants to protect Joy from him even while knowing that Harold favors her so dearly, because there are other ways to hurt your children-)

Harold calmly walking forward while wearing a black suit and confirming "I did die," followed by Danny's "You look the same age as when I last saw you..." - Vampire AU??? (Ugh but why did it have to be Harold? Not a fan of monsters as the bad guys.... need a non-evil vamp to balance him out....)

The way Ward just keeps looking silently between the both of them, like a witness, like - UGH.

"You're home now," GOD DAMMIT and Danny's relief and gratitude and Ward's somber look down I -

Cancer lasted 3 years

Ward: "Dad, are you sure you should be saying this?" Harold: "It's ok. Danny needs to know this." Casting Ward in the opposition role

Ward sits down in the chair adjacent to the couch Danny is on. Harold crosses over from where he was standing near the left side of the couch to sit on the farther right side instead - specifically sitting in between Danny and Ward.

Harold: "I still remember my last breath. Scariest shit I've ever experienced." Ward looks up and away, taking a breath, before turning back again. Combo of eye-roll at dramatics and genuine pain at the thought because that's his dad and Ward remembers those years of pain and decay and - ?

I forgot Danny originally thought of the Hand more like a fable than a reality - and finding out they're a real, present threat combines with being told it's not K'un Lun that they're threatening, but that this whole time, they've actually been digging their claws into his home?

Ward rolling his eyes with his whole body when Harold encourages Danny to think about this as ~embracing his destiny~ hahaha

Ward: No offense, but Danny has zero idea how to do business and therefore maybe shouldn't be running a company with again, absolutely zero training??? Harold: Don't mind Ward being a petulant brat who wants to keep you from your rightful place in our family, Danny. I need you. :)

Harold to Danny: "We've needed a fighter like you back in the family." - right in front of Ward, yet another small "unlike you, who are weak" jab. In line with the whole "Joy can close the deal, you, Ward, can not do anything" lines in the previous episode.

Ward warning Danny about Harold!! But not really doing it great so it could be taken as another 'othering' where Danny could hear 'Harold's not YOUR dad' instead of Ward's intended 'Harold's not your DAD' - made much better by his clarification that Harold only cares about Harold and helping to show he meant 'not a good supportive dad you can lean blindly on' than if he had just. left it at that. I'm glad for Ward's continuing with that line and for Danny's long, considering look at nothing afterward. Gives the sense that Danny feels that something is off, even if he's not sure what.

Colleeeeeeeeeeeeen and her shame and her truly believing in honoring the code of bushido and her teaching these children to get them "the scholarship" to help them in a legitimate, meaningful, honorable way (SOB) and believing that their skills should be about the code and not be about flashiness or showing off or being able to lord their power and ability over others or money -

Code of Bushido (Includes eight virtues, and this episode title is Eight Diagram Dragon Palm. Coincidence???)

1. Rectitude or Justice (refers to PERSONAL rectitude - “one’s power to decide upon a course of conduct in accordance with reason, without wavering” “the bone that gives firmness and stature...without Rectitude neither talent nor learning can make the human frame into a samurai.”)

2. Courage (Bushido distinguishes between bravery and courage - “Courage is doing what is right”)

3. Benevolence or Mercy (“Love, magnanimity, affection for others, sympathy and pity, are traits of Benevolence, the highest attribute of the human soul”)

4. Politeness (Courtesy is rooted in benevolence - “Politeness should be the expression of a benevolent regard for the feelings of others; it’s a poor virtue if it’s motivated only by a fear of offending good taste. In its highest form Politeness approaches love”)

5. Honesty and Sincerity (interestingly, rather than what *I* personally think of when I hear the words “honesty and sincerity”, the info in the Bushido code text about this virtue mostly centers around the idea of disdaining money and riches - probably what Colleen is talking about with her whole “fighting for money breaks the bushido code” thing)

6. Honor (referring to non-martial behavior)

7. Loyalty (bushido text about this seems mostly in context of loyalty to a superior, to your leader, to people you are indebted to. Applies tragically to Colleen and her personal experience with Hand culture. To me, of course, I am more interested in the idea of those leaders deserving your love and your loyalty hand-in-hand with it. Given the other virtues, this IS probably what the code meant to include, but from a modern standpoint it seems like one of those things where especially paramilitary organizations or cults like the Hand could twist the letter of it into an expectation of blindly following orders, even perhaps against your personal devotion to the other virtues)

8. Character and Self-Control (“Bushido teaches that men should behave according to an absolute moral standard, one that transcends logic. What’s right is right, and what’s wrong is wrong. The difference between good and bad and between right and wrong are givens, not arguments subject to discussion or justification, and a man should know the difference.” I get the ideal of this, but something about the wording sits weirdly with me... maybe the implication that they can’t make a mistake?)

Ageless qualities of manliness: choosing compassion over confrontation, and benevolence over belligerence <3

“The tie might be a touch effeminate” Shut UP Ward

Danny, at a press conference: *waves at Jeri* “Hey.” Jeri: *shakes her head*

Danny: “Yes, I was in a mental hospital.” Joy, despairingly: “Oh, Danny”

Jeri smiling. Maybe she worked with Danny on how to handle the press conference and likely questions he would face? My headcanon from this anyway. Ward and Joy looking at each other, seems like in surprise at Danny’s answers and spin?

“Kindness is the eternal law”

The way Danny slips in to this conversation with Joy about the Red Hook property for his Hand investigation is very well done. Reminds me of watching the Netflix trailer and thinking that it made IF look like a show where Danny was some form of government agent going undercover as himself for an investigation.

SO CUTE how Danny goes “woah, I have a first appointment of the day? Who is it?” and then he turns around and it’s his friend Jeri! Hahaha. Danny: “J-money!!” *goes in for a hug* Jeri: “Woah, we don’t do that.”

Jeri: “Your father’s office. Even found his old desk.” Meaning she was the one working on this - Ward is the one who had to set Danny up there after his sarcastic remarks in the penthouse, but Jeri brought in the sentimentality. (Jeri, directly after basically admitting to putting a bunch of effort into a very sentimental gesture here: “Now don’t get all weepy on me.”) Jeri in IF is so soft I love it

Danny: “I pretty much had to raise the dead.” *smirks to himself at his own inside joke*

Jeri, trying to give Danny advice: “For most of these people, you are a hostile takeover.” Me: JERI, HE DOESN’T UNDERSTAND THE NUANCES OF YOUR CORPORATE SPEAK.

Jeri asks if Danny wants the door open or closed. He chooses open. Open to Megan, open to all his new coworkers and employees. Danny is, at his core, for people.

LOL Did Danny just steal Ward’s chair?

Danny: *forces half the board to move so he can sit next to Joy* Me: DANNY

If these guys really wanted to persuade Danny to their point of view on the sell-at-cost thing, they should have emphasized the “funding new research” part of it instead of just repeating “this is just business” ad nauseam. Obviously Ward is actually trying to do the opposite right now and get Danny driven out, but idk what the rest of these people are thinking. Danny acknowledges that they can still make profits elsewhere, which is his side offering a dialogue to meet them. Their counter is that the WHO will be buying it from them and subsidizing it from other people. If they wanted to meet or even just appear to be meeting Danny partway, they could have suggested an initiative to work with the WHO on a program for that? Although since none of them want to actually do that and don’t really care what Danny thinks about it, I know why they didn’t.

Joy raising her eyebrow at Ward’s declaring that they’ll go to market at cost like “I see you Ward and how many times have I told you to leave the maneuvering to me you are unsubtle and unskilled”

Danny looking back at Ward significantly on his way to his discussion with Joy about the pier deal

Ward taking The Drugs before he has to answer Harold’s late night phone call

Harold: You did a great job today. Ward: *baffled expression* Harold: Now, son, this isn’t the time to point fingers, it’s the time for solutions. Ward: There it is. Harold: Also, you screwed up in the meeting and you need to make it up. Ward: *sigh*

Danny: white sneakers with the suit

Joy casually placing the monks and their traditional robes in a lower class position to them and their white collar formal business attire

Time for Joy to play the angle on Danny, curb his at-cost behavior for the future

The ringmaster choosing the second fighter for Colleen followed by that “look, you guys know all the rules” line - I like this guy. He probably remembers how the last dude Colleen fought was a rule-breaker and wants to keep all his fighters safe as possible in an already dangerous 2-on-1 fight like this.

Again with the camera slowing and the noise fading and the blood splattering camera work giving the “losing control” vibe

“The problem was, I never thought through WHY I wanted this job. I mistook my stubborn will for a sense of... destiny, or something.” (Danny, earlier: “My shifu would have called this destiny.”)

“Every moment was a struggle. Failure... led to a beating. Victory... led to another fighting style. To the next lesson.”

Joy flat out calls it abuse and Danny doesn’t deny it.

Vodka and tonic, light on the tonic.

Danny clearly still shaken by the borderline flashbacks to his life at K’un Lun.

Is this the first time the Hatchets appear? Just storming the apartment and punching Joy in the face? Danny and Joy must both be like “WHAT IS HAPPENING”

Joy tries punching one of them. Good for you, Joy.

Ah yes, Ward flat out telling one of the more shark-like reporters that the drug is a huge deal that would save millions of lives and that Rand was of course planning to really boost the price to make a “huge” profit. “That is a loss of hundreds of millions of dollars [that our one company wanted to make off of the millions of people who needed this drug to save their lives]. He’s worse than those bleeding-heart-liberal-trust-fund hipsters wandering around Williamsburg.” (Note: Williamsburg: hip neighborhood that draws the young and fashionable. Boutiques, cafes, street art, outdoor concerts and food markets. Dance clubs, bars, music halls. East Williamsburg is ranked one of the 5 most LGBTQ+ friendly neighborhoods in Brooklyn.)

“Ellison, don’t give the front page to Karen”

Ward just looks at her retreating back and rubs his hands together like “Ah yes, a job well done.” Biggest question for the viewers in this scene is probably: Did Ward tank this on purpose or is he really that far removed from the reality of the non-Elite?

Colleen: still bloody from her illegal cage fighting and hears noise outside her door. Last time she heard noise, it was attackers breaking in for what probably seemed to her like retaliation. Then it’s Danny and she has the relieved exasperation, but - oh ho, Joy Meachum?

“Wasn’t he stalking you?” “It was a misunderstanding.” “Right. I guess being a millionaire covers a multitude of sins.” (Danny: “Billionaire.” Colleen in the background: *disbelieving huff+head shake*)

TRIADS. Time for my triad rant: Every drama show ever to involve Asian-Americans - even just in one-episode specials - includes triads. I’m so sick of it. I know organized crime is a real problem that actually exists, but - why are the Asians always evil? It’s like having the mafia be a plotline every time an Italian character exists on screen. Plz diversify. Media colors perception.

Danny: literally just walks into a restaurant and says he needs to speak to the head of the crime gang. AND THEN NONE OF THEM EVEN BOTHER TRYING TO DENY IT. The Hatchets literally just open the door to their backroom where you can clearly see their illegal activity and come out to talk to Danny. What if he was working with the cops, guys?

It’s so scary how the Yangshi Gonsi react to the mention of the Hand. Well done, IF.

“Joke around the house was that Danny and I were pledged to be married.” (“In another life, this would have been romantic.”) (THIS CREEPS ME OUT THOUGH in a very personally specific triggering way as someone who spent their childhood running around with a boy that I found out later people thought was gonna “knock me up someday.” #BARF)

Colleen has a billionaire in her dojo learning how to punch on a dummy held together with duct tape because she can’t afford to fix it. (Also: Colleen's dojo is also for self-defense classes. Joy was just attacked by hatchet-wielders.)

Danny: "The hatchets won’t be a problem anymore." and then doesn’t elaborate. DANNY THAT SOUNDS SO SHADY. YOU LOOK SO SHADY RIGHT NOW.

Danny: *reaches out and touches Colleen’s hand* Colleen: *flinches back* What are you doing? DANNY. DANNY, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. You seriously have no idea how you come across. Joy is watching all this like “wow....ok.”

Danny used to fight in illegal fight clubs on his way back from K’un Lun. Along with his obtaining an illegal fake ID. New headcanon: Danny is actually super connected to the criminal underground worldwide. Mob bosses everywhere have a soft spot for him. He’s somewhere on a mission with Ward/Colleen/Defenders/HfH and acting like he knows the area, someone recognizes him and he starts chatting cheerfully with them, suddenly they’re being greeted and helped out by people deep in the black market scene while Danny bear hugs someone that most people clearly fear and his companions look on with wide eyes.

Danny, a literal billionaire: Remember how I offered to pay you six months rent for helping me out? Colleen, broke as hell: My denial stands.

Danny: So how are we gonna tell Ward? (framing them - all three of them - as a team) Joy: lmao, are we thinking about the same Ward? You want to tell the most overprotective big brother in the world that men with hatchets attacked his sister? Do you remember what he did to those bullies when we were 8?

Gao: *black bags Harold, refuses to tell him where they’re taking him, doesn’t reveal that this particular instance is him landing on the ‘good’ side of the scale until the last possible second.*

Ugh, he just puts that sword back in the scabbard with all the blood still on it? Improper blade care

Oh yeah, I guess this is the audience’s first scene showing that Harold is capable of cold-blooded murder

I notice that this article may be the front page of the business section, but is NOT the front of the newspaper. Sorry, Jennifer.

[I had initially transcribed the article here, but have made it it's own post which can be found here. Notes on the article, though: Jennifer was very kind to the Meachums in it, given what Ward was actually saying. Also, which Bulletin employee fell down on grammar checking that thing?]

Danny’s Jeri-given apartment doesn’t have a number on the door, but does have some sort of cherry blossom branches etching in the plate?

The Hatchet box!!! (congrats again @Sholio LOL) Yang Hai-Qing wants Danny to get rid of the Hand too. He wasn’t gonna mess with them, explained they didn’t know about the Hand's involvement when they went after Joy, and apologized, but then the Hand came to his restaurant and killed one of his men anyway.

Ah yes, the great tattoo reveal. Also, is that a bullet’s pucker scar on Danny’s left shoulder?

[littledoveheart]

Mr Parker

(Part 2.)

The lights were blinding. The crowd was deafening. The music was pounding harshly against the floor and creating a rumble that only heightened the crowd’s anticipation for the one, the only, the Iron Man.

Well, the one and the only Iron Man was currently throwing up everything he had eaten that day with such impetuous force that he was convulsing while he white knuckled the smooth toilet seat.

“I’m serious give me a little space.” Tony gargled and gagged while his head was reclining on the seat, practically in said toilet and Peter Parker gave an unimpressed grimace while he adhered the red and gold iron man helmet. 

“Oh, get up.” Peter drawled, already irked by his boss who was definitely able to make his blood boil just within the minute or even second.

“No no i’m serious i don’t think i can go through with this.” Tony stumbled over his words like a drunken pelican while he braced himself for another tsunami wave of vomiting due to the sheer fear.

“We don’t have time for this we have to go!” Peter practically yells at him as if to swat some sense into Tony who was currently engulfed in trepidation of his jump from unimaginable heights that made him queasy.

“Oh God, you do not want to see that.” Tony cautioned while his armoured hands slammed down the toilet seat as if to conceal something that was a life or death matter. He felt as drunk as a swine as he upheaved himself and stumbled over nothing to his assistant.

“Where am i? Do i look weird?” “You look like you always do, you look like you have a hangover.”

“Can you get me something? Scotch, ale, Advil?”

“I don’t have any Advil, i have Motrin.” “I’m telling you there is something seriously wrong with giving a grown man Motrin! I’m not on my cycle Peter!”

“There is something seriously wrong with you, Tony!”

Tony doesn't seem at all predisposed as he grapples a safety bar to hoist his armour clad body upwards and into the awaiting arms of Peter, who was practically tearing at the seams with stress and anxiety.

“Abort the mission!”

“Tony you’re being ridiculous!”

“Abort the mission, we’re dropping!”

“No, no don’t-”

“I’m not doing this mission, abort it!”

“We are not aborting this mission!”

Tony quickly yanks an oxygen mask from the wall and inhales sharply, needing sustenance. He just wishes that he was breathing in the scent of Peter, that would definitely make him feel on cloud 9 but without all of the panic and consternation.

“Do you know how long it took me to get the DOD to approve of this Tony? And you know who i did it for? You. We are now over the drop zone.”

“What?” “Yes.”

Tony gets directly into Peter’s space, his nostrils, eyes determined to fill up on their daily dosage of the brunette who kept Tony alive without evening knowing it most of the time.

“Let’s do this, baby.” Tony sighed out softly while his lips yearned for those red lips of Peter, who seemed to notice the distance, or lack of, between them as he began to pant and hyperventilate in a nervous frenzy of, did he wear deodorant? Did he put lip gloss on?

“I know i can be selfish at times, and i know i don’t say it often enough”, Tony yells while his tenacious hands grapple Peter’s crooked elbows that were keeping the Iron Man helmet close to his chest, “But how’s my hair?”

“You said that before.”

“Yeah, but this time i mean it.”

“Yeah you’re looking good.”

“Ok, gimme a smooch for good luck i might not make it back this is heavy stuff.”

Well, that was certainly pushing the envelope and overstepping boundaries that had never once been overpassed. Tony had never tried his luck like that before. Sure, they had been dancing around each other, provocatively dancing around each other at that, to see if they could establish if the other was harbouring feelings too.

Peter heightened the Iron Man helmet so that it was directly in line with his red rosy lips and God Tony felt his hard on get impossibly harder when Peter started to make out with the helmet, tongue included.

Then he launched it off of the plane.

“Go get em boss…”

Tony’s lips quirk into a furtive smirk as he nods before sprinting forward. He wasn’t scared anymore. Peter had breathed life into him and gave stored the courage into his arc batteries as he jumped.

“You complete me!”

**

The entire room was filled with commotion that was almost infectious as Peter sat on his leather chair, leg crossed over the other while his dull grey straight skirt restricted his leg from bouncing in nerves for his boss who was being tried for ownership of his iron man suit. Peter absolutely believed that Tony should keep ownership in his grasp, he had after all created it and therefore it existed with Tony and that should be kept that way.

“Mr Parker, you ok?”

Peter eyes left their haze behind as they focussed on Tony Stark, a tiny head droop overcame him as he nods softly.

“I’m fine. And i know this must be hard for yo-”

“Not at all, if anything it’s a game. And i’m winning, i’m a sore loser.”

“A game? A game in which you don’t have get out of jail free cards, you don’t have free parking so you can take a minute to revise your strategy. Sounds like a dangerous game.” Peter chastises, clearly sullen and even the unsympathetic Tony Stark feels for his assistant and love interest more than he could ever express.

“Ok, yes. I am scared.” Tony conceded while he crouched next to Peter’s leather chair, his bones cracking from his age and the exhaustion of being Iron Man for 6 months, it was still his negotiation phase with his age and being the metal hero.

“I know you are Tony. But hey, if this fails we still have each other right?” Peter reached out for a spark to set off a firework of emotion to the selfish, ostracised billionaire and it seemed to work as Tony’s lips quirked upwards.

“Always.”

Tony slumps in his chair bored as his body’s energy just seems to drain from him and lay in a pool on the floor as the Congress goes on and on about how he is a liability to America and her safety which causes Peter to want to spew venom. A liability to America and a danger his ass, a very nice ass at that Tony had noted.

The crowds all hushed, an eerie silence casting over them like a cold blanket when James Rhodes walked in and through the people, parting them like an ocean with Moses and he does stop at Peter, giving a bow of respect. Peter smiles, tears filling his irises and dilating his pupils.

“Rhodey!” Tony calls, a light jog springing his feet forward as he places a hand onto his shoulder, a smile on his face and blush light on his cheek while he glanced at Peter.

“You ok Peter?” Tony murmurs softly, trying to keep their conversation on the down low and Peter gives an undetectable nod as he grasps his lip between his teeth.

“I’m fine…”

“Mr Rhodes, can you please read paragraph 4 on page 53.”

“You’re asking me to read specifics out of context?”

“Mhm.”

Rhodes recited the paragraph expertly and it caused Tony’s mood to go through the floor and right to the core of the Earth. Even if he didn’t believe that Rhodey would betray him like that, he was broken from his paragraph.

“Stark, you think that only you have these weapons and you are sorely wrong. Just watch this.”

The screens displayed a small base and Tony had to bite his tongue and suppress the snort that wanted to escape at the sheer humility of this. He knew that every single one of his suits was ten times more advanced and sophisticated than the other competitors that thrived for the top spot.

His fingers furiously tapped and swiped on his dependable phone and he searched for the file that he required, smirking to himself when he held up the device to the screens, hacking into them.

Peter looked at the screens, about to stand up to put his leash back on Tony to control him and to make him heel like a good boy, but he hesitated for a second when he saw the makeshift suits that were practically mocking and imitating Tony’s red and gold suits.

“I believe that’s North Korea,” Tony mumbles, swiping left as if to marry up the screen and the phone as a different area appeared on the screen, “That’s Iran.”

The Congress looked at each other as their web of lies tore apart at the seams that had been cleverly weaved and Tony smirked softly when Justin Hammer’s failed attempt came onto the screen.

“Justin look you’re on Tv, God you look a mess.”

Tony smirked, turning to look at Peter as chaos erupted around them and Peter was the only stable thing he could rely on in his life as chaos was the thing that couldn’t touch them. Peter smiled softly and nodded at him, his eyes alight with a flare.

“America is safe with me! I have, and will, protect her! So, good luck Congress!”

“Fuck you Mr Stark, fuck you.” Tony simply stood, grabbing his glasses and slipping them onto his face, blowing a pseudo kiss to the Congressmen before spinning himself towards the cameras, his arm shooting out to yank Peter to his strong chest by his waist, but he didn’t. God he wanted to though.

“So, i will continue to serve this nation for the safety of others at my own pleasure. And if there’s one thing you know about me, it’s that you can always count on me to pleasure myself.”

**

God, Peter’s life had been tossed into a blender and mixed into a mysterious, dangerous and almost bittersweet smoothie that he wasn’t sure he wanted more than one serving of.

“Anthony Edward Stark, i’m gonna-” “Wait, back up you’re not allowed in my lab.” “Are you fucking kidding me? You sold-”

“Hush Peter, give me a minute.”

“A minute? I want a one second break but i don’t fucking get one-” “Ok, all i can tell is that you are pissed off about something.” “You sold our entire art collection to the-..the-”

“Boy scouts of America.”

“Yeah, that!” “And for the record, it was my art collection.” “No, i think i have the right to call it our collection seeing as it took me 5 years to collect everything.”

“Yeah yeah i know Peter, and i am thankful for that.” Tony implores, looking over at him with gleaming chocolate eyes that admire his curvy hourglass figure that he craves.

“You know there are about 8000 things for me to talk to you abou-”

“Oh look at this.” Tony diverts Peter’s fury, trying to take the already sweltering heat of the hellfire that was an irate brunette Peter. He had to admit, his boner was getting harder steadily.

“Tony, i am not talking about your fan art now-”

“I’m hanging this up.”

“Not where the Tom f-”

“Yep.”

Tony carries a portrait of him in his armour over to his small kitchen, his muscly and strong arm giving one full sweep of the marble table to clear it while he hoists himself up, hanging up said portrait while Peter looks up at him with his arms out in exasperation.

“You’re company is in disarray!” 

“Are you kidding me? The stocks are better than they ever have been!”

“Someone needs to manage your company and you aren't! You’re too busy being Iron Man!”

Tony hopped down from his desk, his contemplation finally over as he decided on the decision that could really mess up his chances with Peter, or make them reality.

“I’m trying to make you CEO.”

Peter froze. His lip quivered and he shook softly, his eyes searching into Tony’s to fetch whether they were in a indistinctness of scotch and it was all a drunken aberration. When he couldn’t find anything with his flashlight of wisdom, he had to ask.

“Have you been drinking?”

“Only chlorophyl. Peter, i’ve been thinking about this for a long time now.”

Tony walked over to Dum E who was holding a tray with champagne on it like a waiter and he extended his claw to the Iron Hero who gratefully took it and poured two glasses.

“I thought that there would be legal issues about my successor, but nope. It’s you Peter, it’s always been you.”

Peter began to feel his throat clog with sobs that were desperate to break past his lips and he bit his lip hard while he lowered himself down into the love seat. Tony walked over and sat down swiftly next to him, handing him a glass of champagne.

“I-i don’t know what to think!” Peter laughs, trying to conceal his shock and utter love that multiplied ten fold for the Stark, who gave a smirk and inched his face closer as if to kiss him but instead he simply smirked.

“Don’t think, just drink Peter doll.”

Peter smiled widely, tears finally leaking from his eyes as he clinked his and Tony’s glasses together before sipping as if to seal the deal, and to taste just a bit of Tony seeing as Tony had handed him his champagne. Tony drank too, staring at the brunette with utter lust.

He just wanted him, craved him and needed him.

**

Tony coughed, the overcrowding getting autocratic for him while he held onto Peter’s elbow. A lot of things had occurred to Tony in the time that he had made Peter his CEO, and it was something that he was trying to keep the brunette from knowing anything about.

Nick Fury, director of S.H.I.E.L.D had sent Natalia to become Peter’s assistant to keep him out of as much danger as possible while still helping Tony out with his superhero double life, but she was playing her part better than any oscar winning actors that Tony had ever heard of.

They were at a dinner of sorts, not that Tony particularly wanted to be there, he had other things on his mind like going in his race car that he had owned for 7 years and used it only to gather dust with, but here he was leading his brand new CEO through the crowds. Peter looked stunning, as ever. He was wrapped in a blue dress that hugged his curves in the best possible ways and fuck that ass though, Tony thought. 

Tony linked their arms together so he wasn’t left adrift in the ocean of people which was making him sea sick already. Peter doesn’t flinch, instead smiles for the camera and leans into Tony’s strong and stable touch.

“Smile for the camera, doll face.” Tony murmured, his teeth tightly closed together in a forced and strained smile and Peter did the same to talk back to him like the snarky bastard he was.

“Yeah, well i wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t forced me to be here.”

“Forced you? Ye-”

“How was your flight Mr Stark?” Natasha butted in, sensing the sexual tension between the two was as bad as the rising sea levels that were occurring. Tony nods softly.

“Very nice indeed Natalia, what have me and Peter got on the board?” “You have a 9:30pm dinner.” “Good, i’ll be there at 11pm.”

“Ok then Mr Sta-”

“Is this our table?” Tony pointed to a sunlit corner table that would bring out Peter’s features gorgeously and would make his smile even more heavenly to Tony. Natasha just nods.

“It can be.”

“Ok good, thank you.”

“Mr Musk, a pleasure.” Peter drawled softly, his luminous with lipgloss lips spreading into a microscopic smile at the man and before Tony could toss a bucket of water on the spark of jealously, it had metastasised into a full fire that was coursing through his veins as well as toxicity from his arc.

“Ah, Elon Musk. Pleasure, loved your idea, ok bye.” Tony rushed as if his words were competing in a marathon with his body that was yanking harshly on Peter’s elbow to drag him away, which he successfully did and made his way over to the bar.

Peter’s stilettos clicked while he walked, his arm linked into Tony’s as they leaned against the mahogany bar table. Peter was jealous too, Natasha was way prettier than him and he couldn’t help but think that Tony had a hard on for her. 

“Sorry about dragging you here, i should have-” “Is that Tony Stark?” The annoying, just as headache inducing as a real hammer, Justin Hammer drawled as a hot young blonde accompanied him as if to give Peter a showdown for best slut. Tony bites his tongue hard, pulling Peter to his body a bit closer as if worried Hammer would snatch him away.

“My least favourite person, Justin Hammer.” 

Peter just coughs to mask the giggle that escaped his lips, making up the excuse that he had a cold and that he was extremely sorry and the billionaire could see straight through the lie, but Hammer thankfully couldn’t.

“So, am i allowed a spot at the expo then?” “When you make something that actually works then i’ll give you a spot.”

Peter sat at the corner table, and Tony was right. It had brought out his smile to be more gorgeous than the Iron hero had ever imagined, more beautiful was his glimmering hair that had stubborn little strands that wouldn’t fall into line, and oh how breathtaking was his eyes holding the beams of the sun captive and using them against Tony to make him fall impossibly deeper in love.

“Blood toxicity 47%” 

Tony stared at himself in the mirror and just let himself stop and think about others; What would his company be like if he didn’t come up with a solution? What would Happy do? What would Peter do without him?

He nodded softly to himself and looked at his own chocolate eyes. “Any more crazy ideas, Tony?”

**

The sun was illuminating the floor of the Stark jet, they were on their way home and Tony definitely did not want to go home. He may have wrecked his home, may have had a fight with Rhodes, but overall he had spent more time with Peter and that outweighed everything.

Peter was tightly buckled to his seat, wary of aircrafts ever since his parents’ death on one, but he didn’t dwell on it much. He was watching the news, his leg crossed over the other and the grey straight skirt he always wore when he meant business was hugging his knees securely.

Tony was standing at the doorway to the seating area, a small plate in his hand that he had poured over for 3 hours to try and make Peter a meal fit for a princess. The media was currently despising Tony, and that then spread to Peter who was one of the only ones who had not betrayed him or lost faith in him.

“And in other news, Tony Stark has-”

“Mute.” Tony called for Jarvis to mute, not wanting Peter to stress about anything more than what he already had on his crammed plate. Peter didn’t react except for a small head bow down to his lap and a little lip nibble, but he just gave a tiny smile to Tony when he sat across from him and set the plate on the table.

“What is that?” “You’re in-flight meal.”

“Did you just make that?”

“Where do you think i’ve been for the past three hours?”

Peter smiles softly. The meal looked completely repugnant, but seeing as Tony made it for him he absolutely adored it even with it’s undesirable appearance.

“Thank you Tony…I can tell something’s bothering you, what’s up?” Peter queries gently, he doesn’t want to startle Tony and make the scared man crawl back into his protective bubble in which no one could penetrate. 

“I don’t wanna go home.” Tony admits softly while his chocolate eyes gaze over at his brunette stunner.

“Tony…”

“Peter, i’m serious…Let’s go back, relax.” “Tony, i’m CEO i can’t just up and leave.” “As CEO, you’re entitled to a bit of leave.”

“A leave? With everything going on?”

“Well yeah, it gives us time to rethink our plans and recharge our batteries.”

“Not everybody runs on batteries, Tony.” The two locked gazes, Peter’s honey eyes subduing underneath Tony’s heavier and more dominant chocolate eyes as they gave each other sombre smiles. Neither of them wanted it to go back to the way it was; business and nothing else. But, Tony wanted it to be so much more and he was starting to believe that Peter wanted it too.

**

The expo was up in flames, it was all going wrong and to say that Peter was perturbed was an understatement. He was stuck with Natalia, who’s name he had learned was actually a fucking Russian assassin, but she was insisting that she would go to Hammer’s facility and take care of the drones there.

Tony was in complete and utter chaos, it consumed him and ravaged at him, tearing him down and then giving him the adrenaline to continue fighting against the Hammer drones. He knew he hated Justin for a reason. But Peter, Tony was in a hysteria about him. He didn’t have the armour he had, he didn’t have protection apart from Natasha who was preoccupied with Happy at Hammer’s building. Rhodes was by his side in War Machine, but Peter was no where to be seen and he could feel his arc skip beats.

Peter’s stilettos clicked as fast as a cheetah ran, he was desperate to get up to the technicians and ask just what the hell was going on, and that he was tell them exactly where to shove it if they couldn’t save Tony. He slapped the head of the main technician hard before leaning over his shoulder like a dark shadow that threatened to strike.

“What the fuck is happening? You get me all the details now, hack into those drones and decipher the code their using, then use the same code to shut them down.” “Yes boss.” Peter looked at the window, screaming loudly as glass shattered from a direct collision with Tony Stark, who simply recovered and flew off, and if Peter wasn’t already irate enough, when Justin smirked he was livid. He felt his hand whip harshly against Justin’s cheek before his brain even woke it’s self up from it’s panicked sleep paralysis. He ran to the window, gazing out and feeling his knees go week whenever he saw Tony.

There was no point in hiding his attraction to him anymore, he was just now worried for his safety and that they would both make it out of there, live to tell the tale and finally end the beautiful dance that had them positioned an arms length apart for their ballet to work. It was finally drawing to curtain.

“Tony!” Peter heard screamed, he couldn’t even tell if it was him in all of the confusion, he was sure it was however as he ran back to the technician, “What have you got so far?” “There all programmed in different ways, different languages.” “Use the main one, deactivate as many as you can.”

Tony and Rhodes do it, of course with the help of Natasha, Happy and definitely Peter who had apprehended Justin Hammer and handed him over to Natasha whom had taken him away quickly.

One little blip still remained on the radar. The Hammer drones were set to blow, their objective to blow the Stark expo to fragments and erase it from America’s memory.

“Tones, these things are gonna blow.” “Peter…” Was the first whisper from the Iron Hero, fuck the people, fuck his expo. If there was one thing that he needed to save from his expo, it was his Peter. The paths or smoke diverged onto different paths, one heading up to the stars to fly away and run, the other bolting to the right sharply, the dangerous path, the path to life.

Peter was standing stationary by the entrance of Stark expo, something he had put his whole life into making perfect for Tony, and on the floor there laid a wrecked and dismantled Hammer drone that was pulsating with a blinking light as red as blood. Peter looked over confused, his brows furrowing softly as if they were digging down his features.

“What the-” 

Metal boots clanked hazily next to him, heat swarming around his ankles from the deactivated boosters and a strong arm wrapped around his curved waist, yanking him upwards to try and catch up to his skyrocketing heart. Tony flew upwards expeditiously, holding the brunette CEO to his chest while he bolted out of the general vicinity, flying to a nearby roof while explosions billowed in his wake.

Tony set down gently, still holding Peter while his suit twitched as though it had been personally burned while his suits wires cackled and sparkled. Peter squealed, his legs almost giving way from the stress while he shoved Tony backwards hard, pissed off, angry and fuck so scared and in love. Tony ripped his helmet off, throwing it to the side.

“Oh my God, i can’t take this anymore!” Peter whimpered out almost pitifully, tears pouring down his cheeks at the thought of having to leave his boss, but his body was starting to go into stress induced shut down.

“What do you mean you can’t?” “I can’t take this!” “I mean look at me!” “I literally cannot handle the stress! I never know if you’re gonna,” he swallowed thickly to try and hold up his stance against the tears that were threatening to spill again, “get yourself killed or wreck the whole company!”

“Hey, i think i did ok!” As if to marry up with his statement, an explosion sounded around 50 feet away from where his gesture had pointed to.

“I-i quit, i’m resigning! That’s it.” That hit Tony like a thousand Hammer drones piled on top of each other and they had detonated at the same time onto his arc reactor. God, Tony couldn’t let Peter just walked out of his world and life like this, he had to get him back.

“What did you just say? You’re done?” Tony stepped closer, his suit obeying as he got closer to the brunette who had breathed life to his arc.

“That’s surprising, well actually it isn’t surprising, ok, i got it and you don’t have to make any excuses.”

“Listen i’m not making any excuses-” “Well, you actually were making exudes but you don’t have to-” “No i wasn’t making excuses, because i’m actually very justified and-” “You deserve better, Peter.”

“Well...” “You’ve taken such good care of me. Been in a tough spot and you got me through it. Yeah, right?” “Right, and thank you for understanding.” “No problem, now let’s talk about the clean up-” “I’ll have everything done for you Tony.”

“And about your transit-” “Yeah, but for you it’s like dog years, it’s like the President’s-” Rough lips glided over smoother ones. Tony’s lips glided over Peter’s. Their lips locked around each other, intertwining desperately and completely loved enveloped as they pressed onto the others. Tony held Peter’s waist, something he had craved to do for a long while, and just kissed him. He hoped this was enough to make the brunette stay with him, he needed it to be enough. Peter kissed back, his hands finding their resting place on his chest, cupping his arc reactor.

“Weird?” Tony queries as their lips finally part, and Peter pants softly, looking up at him and cupping his cheek with his thumb gliding gently over his ear.

“No, i don’t think it’s weird…” Peter can only whisper as he inches his face closer again, ready to dive head first into another sweet and love filled kiss and Tony followed his lead. “Good, run that by me again.” Tony murmurs while yanking him fully closer and up to his lips so that they connected again in another addicting kiss that made the brunette moan softly.

“Yeah, i think it’s weird.”

Their lips parted feverishly again, but their hands remained in place as the two turned to face Rhodes, Tony’s face once of anger at the disruption, and Peter’s one of embarrassment at the intrusion.

“You guys look like two seals fighting over a grape.”

“I-i just quit.” Peter rushed to defend himself and Tony nodded softly with his arms still around his waist and hugging him to his chest as if to protect him from the outside world.

“You two don’t even need to pretend, i heard it all.” “You should get lost.” Tony chimed in, pointing an accusing finger at Rhodes who had to stifle the chuckle that wanted to escape his lips.

“I was here first, you two should get a roof.”

“I thought you had a one liner.” “That was the last one.”

“You kicked ass back there by the way.” “Thank you, you too. Listen, my car got taken out in the explosion so i;m gonna have to hang on to your suit for a while.”

“Not ok, not ok.”

“Wasn’t a question.”

Tony held Peter tight as Rhodes became air born and flew off speedily, and it caused Tony to give a small chuckle before he turned to Peter and held his hands tight.

“How you gonna resign hm?”

**

Tony gave Fury a look as he stood up and looked at him, a tiny smile spreading across his lips while he nodded.

“Listen, i’m trying to do right by Peter, we’re in a relationship.”

“I got that, but we think it’s best for you to be a consultant.” “Ok, but can i ask for a small favour?”

“Shoot.” Tony smirked as the Congressman presented his honour, oh it was such a lovely dose of karma that Tony had induced but yet only one thing remained on his mind as he beckoned his beloved onto the stage with him.

“My darling, how about you stand right here?” Tony husked, tucking Peter into his waist and kissing him deeply in front of every single paparazzi he could see, and Peter cupped his cheek while kissing back softly with a smile plastered on his face.

“Alright, pictures!”

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #217: DOUBLE-CROSS!

March, 1982

“A Hero’s Last Stand!”

Uh oh.

Double-cross? A hero’s last stand? Perhaps the most moving story I’ll read this year of 1982? The Avengers seemingly confronting Yellowjacket? Something bad is going to happen, isn’t it?

Actually, I covered this issue for my 100 Days of Comics from a random box liveblog thing! At the time I bemoaned I wouldn’t get to this one in my Essential Avengers liveblog for a long while and I was right! I said that in July 2017 and it is now July 2020!

But I’m going to be covering it again now that I can do so in context.

Huh.

I hadn’t thought about it but its kind of weird that Wasp and Yellowjacket kept being on the team roster square on the cover when they weren’t actively on the team. Tigra gets dropped right off when she leaves so I guess she’s gone for good, alas.

So the issue titled DOUBLE-CROSS! opens with a Mechano-Marauder bending a No Parking sign to let the Avengers exactly what he thinks of the Metropolitan Transit Authority.

And also to challenge the Avengers to come out and fight him.

ALSO GOD DAMN JIM SHOOTER

You don’t play around with the credits section or you kinda do! You’ve made an essay of it again!

Anyway, a minor but important detail is that a telephone repair man sees the Mechano-Marauder marauding and just exclaims he hates working this neighborhood.

One presumes that this happens a lot off-screen.

The Mechano-Marauder just keeps shouting that he’s going to come inside if the Avengers don’t come out to play so Jarvis is like sigh guess I’ll get Iron Man.

Iron Man is, of course, sitting in full armor with his feet up on the ottoman reading the newspaper looking ridiculous because its Iron Man in full armor with his feet up reading the newspaper.

Here, just look.

Anyway, Jarvis asks if Iron Man wants him to just... call the police on the guy in the robot suit? But Iron Man decides That This Is Something He Might As Well Take Care of Himself.

Because it gives him a chance to test out the Brand New Iron Skates!

It has been a long time, a long trying time, without the Iron Skates.

Since this is a goofus cold open nothing villain, the Iron Skates can be displayed to their full majesty.

Hmm. You know, I love the Iron Skates as much as anyone else but probably more than anyone else but look how serious the cover looks and now look at where we are in this opening section tonewise.

Iron Man jets right at the Mechano-Marauder, mocks him a little, and bowls him over.

Iron Man: “Mechano Marauder? That’s what you call yourself? Give me a break! Why does every clown with a workbench think he can build exo-skeleton armor?”

Mechano-Marauder: “You dare to mock me?”

Iron Man: “Hey, you made up that dumb name, fella!”

As this is going on, Janet van Dyne arrives in her limo, sees the guy in the robot suit fighting Iron Man, decides its not really a problem, tells her chauffeur to take some time off, and heads into the mansion telling Iron Man to call if he needs any help.

Mechano-Marauder: “She -- she ignored me! And you -- you’re making light of my attack! Well, let’s see you make light of *ungh* this!”

And he picks up Jan’s limo and hurls it at Iron Man.

Iron Man: “Mister, you’re lucky that car is almost a month old! Jan was about to replace it anyway! She usually buys a new limo every month... or whenever the old one gets dirty!”

And then he effortlessly deflects the thrown car.

Hey. Hey Jan. I think possibly you have too much money. Water exists.

And then Cap rides up on his motorcycle, sees Iron Man bouncing a car back at some guy in a robot suit, and goes hey chum need any help?

Iron Man says nah so Cap just ramps Jan’s limo to jump the mansion wall.

Because. If its leaning against a wall like a ramp, why not? And people say Cap is a stick-in-the-mud. Man just wants to do rad motorcycle stunts and punch Nazis.

Mechano-Marauder: “captain america ignored me, too!”

Captain America: (I hope Iron Man doesn’t take too long with that clown! This is an important meeting -- I’m anxious to get it underway!)

Thor also arrives but he so ignores Iron Man fighting some guy that he doesn’t even comment on it or even pause to look.

I like that the Avengers can all just tell that this isn’t an important villain or something that requires more than one of them half-assing a fight. I wonder how they know. They’ve had sillier looking villains that they’re treated more seriously.

Maybe they just have a sort of plot sense and know that this is but an appetizer to whet the appetite of the action junkies.

Anyway, inside Jan is explaining to Jarvis that she went down to the Dominican Republic during her time off because its just easier to process a divorce down there. Which I’ll take her word for.

The Wasp: “Anyway, it’s over now! No more Mrs. Hank Pym -- I’m Janet van Dyne again, free and single!”

Jarvis: “I see, madame...” (... And I also see that you are far more troubled by what has happened than you will admit even to yourself!)

Jan is really doing the barrelling ahead everything is fine forever now method.

Meanwhile, outside Iron Man is still just half-assing the fight but is also winning while half-assing which doesn’t make the Mechano-Marauder look very good.

I’d say that building a robot suit that can lift cars is still pretty impressive but Iron Man implies that its something that people can just sorta build in this universe.

You’d think we’d see more casual robot suits around if that were the case, though.

Anyway, even though Iron Man is half-assing this he does realize ‘hey wait who the hell even is this guy?’

Iron Man: “There’s something I don’t understand... what is your motive in this? Revenge? Or do you want to steal something? Or what?”

Mechano-Marauder: “I -- I want to be somebody... So I built this suit...”

Iron Man: “That alone is quite an achievement -- even if your armor isn’t in a class with mine!”

Mechano-Marauder proclaims that’s not enough, that he’s got to prove- Something. He gets cut off because Iron Man does him a punch and declares that he’s wasted enough time with this.

Y’know, I did rather suspect he was wasting time.

Iron Man: “Anyone with your obvious brains and resources who’s got to do this to ‘prove himself’ has to be the biggest fool in the world!”

So I guess it isn’t something that anyone with a workbench can build and it is sorta an impressive achievement, like Iron Man said.

But I don’t think Iron Man is strictly thinking about the Mechano-Marauder when he says the biggest fool in the thing. Because when the unmechano’d marauder proclaims that Iron Man hasn’t seen the last of Fabian Stankowicz!! Iron Man just darkly mutters “blow it out your ear!”

So I think he’s thinking of Hank.

Gosh, Hank Pym has been thematically echoed with Gorn, with Ghost Rider, and with Fabian Stankowicz! So many Hank echo fighters.

(I want to joke that this IS the last we’ll see of Fabian Stankowicz because his whole deal screams one-and-done but no, he has more appearances after this!)

Speaking of thinking of Hank, with Fabian Stankowicz defeated not-forever, Iron Man goes back inside the mansion and to the communication room. The phones are dead (because the phone repair guy got startled off on the opening splash. See, it did come up) and he wanted to call Tony Stark’s secretary to see if Hank Pym has called.

Its been weeks since he disappeared!

Speaking of the man, he’s wandering the streets heavy dwelling on the events of Avengers #213. But it has been weeks so he’s finally ready to make an action and get his life back together.

Hank Pym: “None of that seems real now! I -- I realize that I was jealous of Jan -- her money, her glamour... the more she did for me, the more I resented her! I have a choice! I can go on running, hiding from my failures... or I can swallow my pride and take the first step on the road back... If I’m going to get back on my feet and win my beautiful Janet back -- I... I’m going to need some help!”

So he swallows his pride and dials Stark International.

Hank calls and asks to speak with Tony, unconvincingly saying that he’s a friend and then backtracking and saying that Tony knows him.

The secretary thinks he’s a crackpot and is also tired of taking messages so she just puts him on forever-hold.

And Hank would probably have held for it. But he was on his last dime so when time runs out he can’t deposit anything more to stay on the line.

It happens that Tony Stark’s real secretary Mrs. Arbogast returns from nose powdery to relieve the pinch-hitter one who didn’t want to take a message.

Shiela: “I must have taken a zillion message, Mrs. Arbogast! Oh, and I just now put a guy on hold! He said his name was Henry Primm or something...”

Mrs. Arbogast: “Henry... Pym?! Tony’s been praying that he’d call!”

And she lunges for the phone but alas that’s when Hank’s time runs out and the call disconnects.

Dammit, Shiela! You made Hank think he was getting the brush off!

Even if you don’t care about a broken down guy like Hank Pym, think how difficult you’ve made life for Mrs. Arbogast when she has to tell Tony that he missed a call from Hank!

Mrs. Arbogast: “He... he’s gone! I missed him! Tony’s going to kill me!”

DAMMIT SHIELA!

Meanwhile, Tony Stark is currently blissfully unaware of this. He’s opening the meeting, politely complimenting the Wasp. Just living his Tony life.

But when Captain America goes to open the meeting as the current chairman, Jan raises her hand.

She points out that Cap has been chairman for a pretty long time (and done a wonderful job, really!) but its time for someone else to have a turn. Maybe someone who hasn’t had a go at it. Maybe someone winsome and wonderful like the Wasp. Yes, she’s nominating herself.

What a coup.

Iron Man: “You want to be the chairman -- uh, chairperson, Jan? Well, I... guess that’s okay...”

Wasp: “So second the motion!”

Iron Man: “sure... i second...”

Thor: “You have had much turmoil in your life of late, Janet! Surely the responsibility, the burden of --”

Wasp: “‘Yea’ or ‘nay’ please, Thor... okay?”

Thor: “Thou are bold, woman! Hm! Yea, then! So be it!”

Cap: “I can’t say it’s the easiest job I ever had, Jan, and I can’t believe you want it, but... Let’s make it unanimous!”

And boom! The Wasp is chairperson of the Avengers! After ages of being treated like a sidekick instead of an Avenger in her own right!

All it took was a dab of confidence and a dash of railroading a meeting. That’s politics!

But also this book really is delivering on a Wasp who isn’t burying herself anymore.

Freshly divorced Wasp is hitting the ground running.

God only knows what she’ll be up to in a week if she keeps this pace going.

Meanwhile, Hank Pym wanders into a bar to drown his sorrows. Or splash his sorrows in a puddle.

He doesn’t have any money.

But then a familiar face offers to buy him a drink.

If I asked you to guess who it was, you’d never (except for the panels I included). Because its Elihas Starr!

Y’know, Egghead? Hank Pym’s..... uh..... archnemesis probably? I mean its either him or Whirlwind and I’m not dignifying that.

Huh. I never really thought about it but Egghead resembles a mustacheless Robotnik and I don’t like that cursed thought.

Anyway, Egghead has an offer for Hank and what has the ex-Avenger have to lose by hearing it?

Hank goes well ok speak fast because in a minute I’m going to drag you to the police to turn you in and see if that makes me feel anything again.

Egghead: “Ah, yes! I was your first foe years ago when you’d just started out as a crime-fighter! We’ve crossed swords so many times... I know you well, Dr. Pym! I realize the risk I’ve taken meeting you like this! I would not do so without good reason!”

So here’s the thing.

Egghead has a niece called Trish Starr.

She was introduced in Ant-Man’s solo in Marvel Feature #5. Egghead tried to steal Trish’s ‘child prodigy brains’ and add them to his brains so he could take over the world.

I dunno, I’m looking at a synopsis here.

Hank destroys the brain drain machine like a good superhero and thwarts Egghead.

And then later Egghead planted a car bomb that caused Trish to lose her arm because he blamed her for his misfortunes.

The important thing though is that in hindsight he has realized that this was a major dick move and he wants to make it right.

Egghead: “Surely, you know how it’s possible to get so involved... so swept up with yourself that you lose sight of what’s really important! Surely, you understand what it is -- how it feels to know you’ve been cruel to someone you love!”

Wow! Is that another Hank Pym echo fighter for the pile? Wasn’t expecting Egghead to join the brawl but comics keep you on your toes.

Egghead says that he’s getting older and realized that he’s wasted his life on silly superhero schemes. All he has left is his niece. And she hates and fears him for what he’s done.

But nevertheless he wants to make it right so he’s built her a bionic arm to replace her missing one.

Its super sophisticated. Real top of the line cutting edge stuff. Thought controlled. Biofeedback that provides a sense of touch. You slap a sleeve of plastic skin over it, it’d be as good as not having lost her arm.

But Trish won’t accept it from Egghead because, uh, he blew her arm off with a car bomb.

But she would trust Hank Pym.

And Hank Pym is an expert bio-physicist. One of the few skilled enough to attach the arm.

Egghead isn’t asking for a favor. He’ll give Hank $500,000 to do this thing.

Hank really needs the money but he also doesn’t feel right accepting it. So Egghead proposes hey you take the money now, donate a like sum to charity when you’re back on your feet.

And Hank decides he can agree to this.

He does really need the money.

On a plane to Arizona to meet with Trish Starr, Hank actually feels like things are looking up. He’s got a plan out of this deep hole he’s dug himself into and that’s more than he’s had for a while.

Hank Pym: “I can pay off all my creditors... rent a nice apartment in the city... even set myself up in business as a consultant, maybe! And then, look out, Janet, ‘cause old Hank is going to make a comeback -- and I’m not going to quit trying till you’re mine again!”

He is very optimistic.

I’m not sure that his relationship with Jan can be repaired but at least he realizes he needs to sort the rest of his life out first.

And the ‘i’m not going to quit trying till you’re mine again’ thing is considered less romantic than it once would have been. But at least he’ll be putting the effort into the relationship if a relationship is to exist.

I dunno. We’ll see.

So Hank takes a quick break after landing in Arizona to clean himself up and put on his Yellowjacket costume so he looks more confidant superhero and less disaster spiral.

And Trish is actually happy to see Dr. Pym. She’s heard of his troubles and even offers any help that she can.

Wow, Trish is really nice.

Yellowjacket explains the nonsense. That her uncle feels bad and built her a robot arm.

She is, reasonably, hesitant. She does not trust him.

Yellowjacket: “At first, I didn’t either, Trish. But, you know, I’ve been through a lot lately! I pretty much hit bottom! It opened my eyes! I think I understand your uncle fairly well now -- and I think he’s sincere!"

Plus, trust but verify. Hank isn’t completely a fool. On the way, he examined the arm thoroughly and its exactly what it appears to be. No hidden tricks or traps or hijinxes.

So Trish agrees to try on the arm.

Forty-seven minutes pass, which seems like a decent length of time to adjust cybernetics, I guess.

Trish is overjoyed to have two arms again!

So overjoyed that she slaps Yellowjacket right across the face!

Wait, what?

The arm is out of control, moving on its own. Yellowjacket thinks the cybernetic linkage must be out of whack but he was sure he connected it perfectly.

At Trish’s insistence, he decides to disconnect it but suddenly Trish gets wiggly speech bubbles and tells Yellowjacket “Do not approach her! Touch her and she dies!”

But aw shit, its Egghead!

Egghead: “The arm you so earnestly attached to the girl has given me, Egghead, complete control over her! I can see through her eyes, speak through her mouth and direct her every move, all from my secret, hidden base! you ninny!”

Wow, how Eggman of you, Egghead.

Also, do you have ANY plans that don’t exploit your niece? The hell, dude!

Yellowjacket objects that he checked the arm for just this sort of nonsense but Egghead laughs that Hank just isn’t as smart as he is. He knew that Hank would examine the arm carefully so he designed it so he could alter it by remote control!

... You’d think that Hank would have been able to see that the circuits were designed to change shape like that. Or the receivers for the remote control signal. Or something.

Yeah, this was dumb of you, Hank. Or authorial fiat. Whichever.

Egghead also threatens that if Hank refuses to obey him and the arm will self-destruct and kill Trish.

Because Egghead also doesn’t have any plans that don’t involve blowing up his niece apparently!

Egghead: “You have ten seconds to swear to absolute obedience! Nine... eight...”

Yellowjacket: “All right! All right! Don’t kill her! what do you want me to do?”

So not much of one but small silver lining? At least Egghead isn’t a thematic echo of you, Hank?

Anyway, Egghead orders Hank to take a flight to Omaha, Nebraska (which means he’s gone from New York, New York to Flagstaff, Arizona to Omaha, Nebraska. He’s piling up the frequent flier miles) where he’ll find a tractor-trailer rig which he is to drive to the Strategic Air Command Headquarters.

And when they get there, Hank is to infiltrate the headquarters. And he’s being timed. If he takes a second longer than Egghead has calculated he needs, Egghead will kill Trish.

So Yellowjacket Hank has no choice but to play along for now while desperately trying to think of a way to ruin Egghead’s plans without endangering Trish.

And as he’s flying tiny and unseen through the labyrinthine base, he realizes he knows this place. The Avengers were privy to this and other top secret installations.

So he knows there’s a hot-line and alarm system direct to Avengers Mansion!

So he detours to press the button.

It’s a gamble to assemble the Avengers without being able to contact them ahead of time and having to clue the Avengers in without tipping off Egghead but if he can manage that, then Iron Man could jam Egghead’s control signals to the arm so Hank can remove it without it exploding!

Yellowjacket: “It’s a big gamble summoning them -- but I have a hunch that I’ll be glad I did!”

But for now he’s got to hurry to make up for lost time so he doesn’t run behind schedule.

Outside the base, Remote Control Trish rolls up to the guard post in the tractor-trailer under the pretense of needing directions but as soon as the soldiers start questioning why she has a mechanical arm and why she’s not wearing a shirt, Egghead just shrugs, I assume, and goes for audacity.

Egghead!Trish: “My partner will arrive soon! He should be in the airshaft now -- crossing from S.A.C. headquarters to the underground bunker directly below this guard post. In a moment he’ll render unconscious the guards below -- and then open up your little fortress from within for me! I’ll be nice and warm inside in seconds!”

Guard: “Ma’am, ah do believe y’all are plumb loco!”

Egghead!Trish: -beats them up- “Dolts!”

I have to admit, I do like this trope when people just confess to the whole plan as a distraction, often before throwing hands.

Inside, Hank kicks the open button just as Remote Control Trish is strolling up to the hidden elevator.

At the bottom, Egghead!Trish chides Hank for being .6 seconds late.

Which is awfully pedantic. Egghead specifically said “take but a second longer” and he was a little under a second slow.

Anyway, Egghead tells Hank to neutralize the lock on the vault.

So Hank tinies and heads inside the lock. Luckily, its almost the same lock on the vault in the Avengers Mansion lab. So Hank knows where to find and snip the master power circuit to disable the alarms.

The vault also has a deadbolt that a bulldozer couldn’t snap but Remote Control Trish grabs the lock and rips the deadbolt clean off.

Although Egghead also points out that Hank’s inbuilt disruptor sting could have shattered the lock.

Inside the vault is the entirety of the United States’ strategic stockpile of adamantium resins.

Adamantium is considered absolutely impervious to all known agents of destruction (which isn’t entirely true but its so close to true that lets just go with it).

Egghead: “But you know all about adamantium, don’t you, Dr. Pym? You’ve used it in building robots... like the one you used in your ill-fated attempt to influence your recent court-martial!”

This is a sore subject but despite Hank telling Egghead to shut up, he just keeps rubbing salt into the wound by talking about how much Hank failed with his ‘kill his friends’ robot plan.

Egghead: “Yes, that was a very clever plan you had, Dr. Pym! Too bad you so stupidly blew it!”

You’re adding a lot of insult to injury, Egghead. You’re a petty sort of supervillain, aintcha?

But a petty sort of supervillain with a meticulously crafted plan because the canisters of resin are extracted from the last protections, brought up the elevator, and loaded onto the truck bing bam boom, done.

And with no one the wiser except those unconscious guards, Remote Control Trish and Yellowjacket drive away from the secret base in the truck.

Egghead: “It may interest you to know, Dr. Pym, that, like you, I intend to use this adamantium -- to build robots! Unlike yours, however, mine will have no weak points!”

Yellowjacket: “And then?”

Egghead: “Have you no imagination, Dr. Pym? Obviously, my invincible robot raiders will be able to ‘acquire’ for me whatever I need to further my plans for world conquest! Gold, nuclear arms...”

I feel that if you’re using robots to ‘acquire’ things for you, you don’t actually need gold. Gold is most useful for exchanging for goods and services and it doesn’t sound like Egghead has plans to buy anything anymore.

But as he’s musing about all the things he’ll steal, he sees (through Trish) the Avengers fly overhead!

Hank hitting that button worked to summon the Avengers!

Hank is hyped that they’ve arrived but he never actually completed the other half of the plan. Step 1 Call the Avengers, step 2 ?????, step 3 Everything is better forever.

And step 2 was a very important step. The linchpin even.

So the Avengers show up and park the quinjet right across the road to stop the truck.

(I love that there is a panel that is basically the cover although there’s not a bit where Yellowjacket stands opposite the Avengers so the cover is, alas, still a lie. I like it quite a bit though.)

The Avengers got to the base, found the unconscious guards, got a description of the truck, and followed the road until they found it.

But Egghead goes ‘ok change of plans, you get to fight the entire team or I kill the girl because that hasn’t stopped being a thing I’m threatening.’

He also pretty strongly suspects that Hank is the one who called the Avengers here and says it’ll be on his head if anything happens to Trish.

Hank muses that he could take one or two of them with some luck but taking all four Avengers is out of the question!

I think he’s forgotten the multiple times he’s either soloed the team or did unreasonably well.

But with no choice, Yellowjacket flies out of the truck and starts attacking immediately while the Avengers are still in the ‘hey thats our good pal Hank, whats he doing here’ mode.

Wasp is calling the shots and the shot she calls is ‘hey if he doesn’t want to talk, bring him down!’

Cap throws his mighty shield and Hank does seem to yield! Or disappear! He shrinks out of sight and too small to pick up on radar.

Iron Man and Cap are convinced Hank booked it but Wasp is sure that he’s no coward but might have gotten very small and hidden somewhere.

And she’s right. And its hilarious.

Hank has been hitching a ride on Cap’s shield so when it boomerangs back to the guy, Hank blasts him near point blank with his disruptor sting.

Hank counts himself lucky since its not easy to catch Cap unawares but then is caught unawares himself.

Wasp knew Hank was around somewhere so she gets the drop on him, blasting him with her own sting.

She demands to know why Hank is betraying everything he’s stood for his whole life but Hank doesn’t dare explain even in a tiny size conversation with his ex, for fear that Egghead might suspect betrayal.

So instead he just backhands Wasp.

I feeeeeeeeeeel like this was not a great fight choreography decision given the controversy about #213 which surely must have been brewing even four months later.

Yellowjacket: (Darn it, Jan! How many times have I told you not to close in so quickly? You only hit me with a glancing sting-blast! I’m sorry, Janet!)

I also feel like his dreamed of winning her back is about this much further out of his reach now.

Best laid plans.

By this point, Iron Man has gotten Yellowjacket on his radar again (specifying that he can track him no matter how small he gets. Unless he’s riding on Cap’s shield, which evidently baffled the radar). He repulsor blasts Yellowjacket towards Thor and tells Thor to grab him.

Yellowjacket: “They’re pulling their punches... taking it easy on me! That gives me a chance! Provided I can keep the element of surprise, and I’m utterly ruthless -- I may yet be able to win... and save Trish’s life!”

And then he turns the momentum of being repulsored into a kick that knocks Thor to the ground.

I do like the choreography of it. And how Yellowjacket is reasoning through how one him can beat four Avengers when he should be at a huge disadvantage.

Although I think the best part of this is that Egghead is watching this remotely cheering Hank on like this is a sports match.

Egghead: “Good work, Pym! Hit him again! C’mon bash ‘em! You can do it!”

Granted, he probably could be helping. Driving the truck away, or something? Spectating is fine too, I guess.

Yellowjacket then manages to pop up right by Cap and Iron Man and blast them both.

That’s three of the Avengers down for the moment, now he just has to find the Wasp.

But she’s still the one most wise to his tricks so while he was kicking Thor in the face and disruptor blasting Cap and Iron Man, she was lurking by the Quinjet waiting for the right opportunity.

Wasp: “You’re not getting away from me this time! The party’s over! You know the trouble with you is that you have only one good trick... and I can do it too!”

And the one good trick is apparently, by context and inference, suddenly growing big and smacking someone by surprise.

She hits him like a volleyball towards Cap, who smacks him towards Iron Man, who WAK!s him towards Thor who catches Yellowjacket.

God.

This sequence is spectacular.

Not for Hank, granted.

Thor: “Verily, small one, thy mischief is at an end! Now, speak, or tempt my wrath! Explain this knavery, or...”

Yellowjacket: “I had to do it, Thor! Because I failed to defeat you, an innocent girl is going to die! Any moment now, Egghead is going to push the button that kills her!”

Having lost anyway, Yellowjacket spills all the beans about Egghead and the exploding arm. And since he hasn’t heard a Trish shattering kaboom, he begs Iron Man to jam the command signals to the arm!

Iron Man goes to investigate Trish in the truck but he can’t find any transmission to the arm. And scanning it, he can’t find any booby traps. And he finds it fairly simple to remove.

Because: Egghead stopped transmitting once Hank got beat. And insult to the insulted injury already dealt, there never was a booby trap. Egghead had been lying through his teeth about it.

And: to cover his tracks, he planted some false memories into Trish’s brain while she was under control.

So when the arm is removed (Thor covers Trish with his cape because he’s gallant like that) and Hank begs Trish to tell the Avengers about how Egghead is behind everything, Trish remembers it differently.

Trish: “Egghead? I don’t remember anything about Egghead? You talked me into letting you attach it -- and then it forced me to do as you commanded! I -- I can’t lie for you, Dr. Pym!”

Oof.

Dammit Egghead, you suck.

Yellowjacket: “But -- but it was Egghead’s doing! You’ve got to believe me! P-please!”

Iron Man: “Are you going to come quietly, Hank, or...”

Yellowjacket: “i -- i’ll come...”

And hours later, the Avengers sit around brooding moodily in one of their many sitting rooms when Jarvis brings in the paper.

But Cap tells Jarvis to just leave it. Nobody is in a mood to read it just yet.

Because prominently displayed at the page 1 headline of the Daily Bugle: “EX-AVENGER JAILED!”

Jarvis: “Yes sir... I understand exactly how you feel!”

Oof.

This issue hurts a bit. Not in the same way as issue #213 where it was Yellowjacket being increasingly vile to the one who cared most about him and devolving into a paranoid blame-shifting rant when he has the chance to defend his actions.

This one hurts because Hank did almost everything right. This isn’t Hank spiraling into a breakdown Hank. This is Hank on the upswing, making plans to make good of himself again, wanting to help people, wanting to thwart the villain.

His primary error was trusting a supervillain but he did due diligence there, examining the arm thoroughly just in case only to end up surprised by comic book nonsense technology.

But when he gets roped into the scheme, he summons the Avengers trusting them to help stop Egghead even though he has reason to suspect that they’ve just totally disowned him for his terrible behavior.

This is a common comic book trope, the person forced to work for the villain because of a hostage or something. Hank himself has been in the situation a couple times.

It just doesn’t... work out this time.

Egghead covers his tracks too well. And the Avengers are primed to believe the worst about Hank.

They want to believe the best.

Cap had a whole character beat about having to trust Hank to pull himself back up. Iron Man has been desperate to reach Hank to get him a job and psychiatric care for his breakdowns.

(Its actually interesting how the fall of Hank Pym arc has been kept going without having him front and center through all those thematic echoes. We get to see how the Avengers are dealing with their Hank feelings while also doing other things.)

But still, this situation has to remind them too heavily of the engineered heroics he pulled during the court martial. AND adamantium is being stolen? The stuff the kill-your-friends robot was made out of?

Too many things line up and Hank has been missing and incommunicado with his friends. When they find him with the stolen adamantium and he won’t explain himself, they have to be thinking ‘no, well, this tracks, actually.’

There’s one thing Hank could have said that could have made them start pulling threads.

‘I’m the one who tripped the alarm that summoned you.’

But I think with everything lined up against him, including his past behavior, Hank doesn’t think they’ll ever believe him. He thinks his friends have rightly abandoned him.

So in the end, he just meekly surrenders into disgrace.

And that’s why this issue hurt a little.

Follow @essential-avengers​ because you want to see what awaits Hank and because you thought Jan had a good showing beating him up. Sucks for Hank but dang, good job, Wasp. Likes and reblogs are also appreciated.

[gurguliare]

Ok, ok, Hieron wrapup notes, pending epilogue

Hadrian: Strengths and problems of Hadrian’s arc are for me aptly summarized in the jump from 1) Hadrian eking out a moral victory of sorts over Samot and the gods at the not inconsiderable cost of taking judgment into his own hands one last time---it’s all well and good to talk about Hadrian being in no position to pass judgment, but then, he wasn’t with Jericho, either, and sending Samot to Aubade is not a neutral choice. Of course no neutral choice exists! and the important thing is he no longer considers himself a mere weapon in the hands of a higher justice, but a person making a decision, which (as it turns out) simplifies the decision exactly as much as being a weapon did back in the day.---to 2) Hadrian cracking a joke about how, if his wife and child were hurt, of course he would pursue Samot to hell and back. Hadrian the family man exists, conflict-free, on a planet of eyewatering sentimentalism. I don’t really understand why. It has something to do with how they chose to handle Hadrian’s “redemption” or anyway recuperation as a character capable of normal communal life, after what I guess we’re now supposed to understand as his antisocial spiral in s1---laugh with me, it’s good to laugh---with his somber diagnosis of Samot as having spent Too Long Away From His Family also applying to his past self. Um. 

Of course Hadrian was never intended as a reliable narrator, but it’s hard for me to do much with that when his narrative isn’t countered by anything else in the text; we meet Benjamin and (less often) Rosana in other contexts, but we don’t get their view of Hadrian, much, and when we do it hews to a narrow pattern of concern and exasperation, as if Hadrian were only an aging action hero this close to claiming his retirement benefits. They lament his recklessness but seem not to notice the dogmatism or the listless doubts that replace it. (That’s with the fact that doubt, if anything, makes him a worse husband and father.) Despite her often-stressed importance to the surviving followers of the church, Rosana’s religious feelings are largely a cipher, and she’s almost never in a position to witness or comment on Hadrian’s most dramatic struggles with faith. So “family” and “faith” remain separate, unable to complicate or inform each other. It’s a shame, because I theoretically am really charmed by the story where a man’s incrementally degraded---not even broken!---faith is the mechanism of his salvation, and by the end he and Samot have swapped places, Samot incapable of not pursuing bitter, futile, barbarous justice and Hadrian very relaxed. The problem for me is that Hadrian ironically restored to his devout family through heresy is never treated as the strange accomplishment it is, and it’s not something he has to work for; I know we get Benjamin scenes this season, I understand the narrative function is to gesture to the very thing I’m describing, but I don’t mean “work for” in the sense of “carving out more time for family dinners.” I mean “acknowledging and accounting for Hadrian’s failings,” rather than glossing his escape almost as a matter of removing the temptation of belief, problem solved.  

Hella: I’m in a similar place with Hella; I like the skeleton of her complete arc, I don’t think it ever got the development it needed and it’s missing some key connections. I got a lot of joy from Ali affirming the thread of Hella’s relationship to Ordenna, from s1 avoidance to s2 voluntary exile to s3 final, reluctant return and assumption of responsibility. For me, it’s compelling to look back and realize that Hella essentially begins in a place that Hadrian only reaches circa Winter: having not rejected, but unobtrusively fled, a culture which failed to inculcate her completely with its horrible values---in part because she was too cowardly to adopt them---but that left her with a tangle of blind prejudice and bravado, the relief of freedom making her that much happier to perform “big tough Ordennan,” as long as she stayed far away from Ordenna. I love... of course I love Velas, in concept, I love and will always love FATT’s shitty compromise cities, cosmopolitan and democratic of necessity rather than out of any high ideal. Yes! We get it! I imprinted on Terry Pratchett, I don’t need to say it every time! But the fact that Hella identifies with Velas and befriends Calhoun in Velas and that they have this common experience of “shit, maybe the world is a bigger place than I realized, maybe it’s not actually a choice between tyranny and anarchy every time” ... makes me really verklempt. And in Nacre they both fall back on old habits and Velas barely seems real; for both of them, Nacre has an unpleasant tinge of “reality” asserting itself over a dream---for Calhoun, returning there is obviously something he’s always feared, but for Hella it’s the discovery that the Ordennan state was more right than she knew, that gods and magic exist, and aren’t just bogeymen used to keep Ordennans off the mainland; and, on a deeper level, that Ordenna’s narrow pride is a reaction to a far older and more arbitrary authority.

So she kills Calhoun---“If she’s going to, then why don’t I?” Escape is so unlikely, caught between Ordenna and Nacre, that helping others find it would be a frivolous proposition: the only person Hella hopes to save is Hella. Then she goes home to learn that Velas is also in mortal danger, that the whole world will soon be Ordenna (and Nacre.) She’s ensured it. No wonder her nihilism at the start of Winter is much more marked, and she finally starts to accept that escape isn’t there for the seizing, that there isn’t an outside.

And then she... goes to Aubade?

This is where it starts to break down for me, as with Hadrian and his family. In theory, I get why actually showing Hella what it means to live away from savage god-eat-god imperialism gives her the courage and vision to face Hieron head-on. I think the line about “surrounding herself with clever people” is great and gets at the point that her education, her personal growth, are not meaningless just because they’re the product of artificial intervention, fantastical prosthesis. But, I dunno, in execution it’s so spotty. Part of it is that Adelaide has to come to her senses at the same time, but that process happens very quietly and never gets free of Hella’s orbit---the scene where she asks Hella for a reason to leave Aubade is good, but comes at the price of other scenes in which we see them, for example, negotiate the terms of Adularia’s existence together. Hella as Death’s Servant reads too much as "running Adelaide’s errands,” not enough as her ardent champion, and I’m not saying that every Ali character has to become a zealot before they’re done for me to be satisfied, but hey! If this is you redeeming Nacre and its ideals from the start of the show, then redeem those things! And give Hella the space for her return to Ordenna to feel like atonement, rather than “one last job”... it’s such a good atonement, is the thing, the only possible one, because for all that she’s changed, Ordenna is still the one place where you can imagine Hella Varal having something to teach people. 

Probably the solution to this would involve triangulating with the sentience of the Anchor; since Ordenna got the plans from Nacre, Adelaide should take partial responsibility in the cleanup there, as well, and not only in releasing Hieron from the curse. Keep the two plots in conversation to the end. But I’m not sure what exactly that would have looked like; something with Hella’s new body, maybe. 

Fantasmo: I love Nick. Thanks to Nick for half-assedly speedrunning Fantasmo through Fourteen’s bit of “in lieu of character development, what if: uplifting character regression?” I cracked the fuck up at him using “Dominate” solely to make Samot captive audience. Audience... to the world’s most insipid power-of-heart lecture, which was honestly very sweet as an obvious truth Fantasmo once knew, or knew well enough to mouth. I did love all the grace notes about the Last University in the finale, still nameless, still a refuge.  

[realityhelixcreates]

Lasabrjotr Chapter 9: The Nine Realms: 101

Chapters: 9/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Warnings: Mention of implied non-con, mention of implied past abuse, Mentions of colonialism Relationships: Loki x Reader (But not yet) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Thor (Marvel), OFC, Heimdall(Marvel), Brunnhilde/Valkyrie(Marvel) Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending, Reader was Once Part of a Board of Paranoid Conspriacy Theorists and has Never Denied Being One of Them, Reader Gets Things Twisted, Loki shows off, Loki is Jealous and Doesn’t Know Why, Time For a History Lesson, My Headcanons; Let Me Show You Them, Writer Loves Worldbuilding, Ode to the Worst World Mythology Book I’ve Ever Read Summary: Reader gets some disturbing ideas from a poorly written world mythology book, and also a joint history/astronomy lesson

Andsvarr would not let you leave the rooms that day, and he did not know when Loki would be back. You understood that the man was a prince and had a great deal of responsibility, but you didn’t know what to do with yourself while you waited.

Saldis had been by, to deliver a disappointingly small stack of English language books.

“They were with the donations.” She explained. “So there’s likely to be more at some time. Until then, this is all we’ve got.”

Four books, that was all. One on world mythology, another on Icelandic history. One astronomy textbook, and the last, a volume of the works of Shakespeare, containing his tragedies.

Well, if all you could do was wait, then it couldn’t hurt to learn a thing or two.

The ‘world mythology’ book was much more of a ‘Greek mythology with a few short entries from everywhere else’ book, but the small Norse section nevertheless contained some rather shocking concepts. You did not recognize the Loki portrayed here, nor the Thor. There were many other names listed, none of whom you had met. Where were the rest of them? Had they all died in the tragedy that brought all of Asgard here to Earth? Or were they just out doing their jobs, like Heimdall, and you simply hadn’t crossed paths yet?

Once you’d read through the tiny section, wondering where the heck this Odin fellow was, you had to turn back to the much larger Greek and Roman section. They probably weren’t the same gods with different names, as you had once surmised, but they were contemporary with the Norse figures, and might help you understand godhood and your relation to it a bit better.

A few hours of reading passed, and the results were not comforting. Either the author had a major bias, or the gods were just kind of terrible. Every story seemed littered with assault and murder, suffering, revenge, and sexual misconduct-to put it delicately! Why could the gods turn humans into other things, but not turn them back? Why was every story so sad? Why so many non-consensual relations? Was that just the nature of dealings between man and god? If so, did the royal brothers simply see everything that had already happened to you-and everything that might happen to you in the future-as completely acceptable and normal? Where were the lines drawn?

Back on the fens, Iron Man had accused Loki of kidnapping you across the sea like it was still the Viking age. Loki hadn’t refuted the claim; he hadn’t even reacted to it. The last time an Asgardian had set foot on this planet, that had been seen as a completely normal thing to do. A legitimate way to get oneself a wife. Or at least, a female slave that they could do whatever they wanted with.

Loki’s time on Earth had been very short. What if he wasn’t up to date yet? What if that was how he saw you? What if he came to expect certain things from you? What might he do if you didn’t provide?

What could you do? Pretty much nothing, that’s what. This was exactly why you didn’t want to be dependent on him, or any man really, for your living conditions. You’d already been with someone who had gotten you into just such a situation. Him, you had been able to walk away from, eventually, though it had left you with scars and baggage. You had no means of escape from Loki.

And he had suddenly gotten so very tactile. Almost the very instant he knew that you would be staying, that he had gotten that concession to let him ‘take care’ of you out of you. Had he taken that as consent? How far was he going to take it? What could you do to fight back? Could you?

You set the book aside, and gazed out the window at the budding city, trying to calm down. Surely you were jumping to too many conclusions. There was no evidence for any of this, except for every entry in that book, which unapologetically painted the gods as major league assholes.

It wormed its way nefariously into your brain. Thousands of years was a long time to do truly awful things, and become jaded about them. Or simply forget they had even happened! A long time to justify, to normalize. What might be hidden, coiled up in his past, waiting to spring out at you? You didn’t know the man!

The book openly described him as a god of evil. Of trickery and lies, of deception. It didn’t seem possible. Evil wasn’t a solid concept. Acts could be evil, deeds could be evil, but evil as a concept was nebulous. It couldn’t be embodied by one person. People could, and did frequently do both.

But what if you were wrong? While you considered yourself as well educated as you could get on your own, it wasn’t as if you had never been fooled before. And if he was basically the god of fooling people, really so cold-hearted and vicious, really just playing a little game with your life, how would you ever know?

You were stuck trusting him, while the only source of information you had said that was a thing you should absolutely never do. So which did you believe; your own brief experiences, or an author who might be biased or might be an actual expert on the subject?

Did it matter? Knowing what he might do to you did you no good if you had no way to escape it. Maybe you should just steel yourself to the idea that he might not be done taking from you.

You were wound tight as a wire by the time you heard him enter the rooms, and you prayed to whoever might be out there that he would just skip checking in on you.

There might be thousands of gods in the universe, but they were all deaf tonight. Loki opened the door without even knocking.

“It’s dinnertime.” Was all he said, clearly expecting you to simply come along. So that’s what you did.

                                                                                   *****

Brunnhilde was a goddess too; the book had said that all Valkyries were. Not goddesses of anything in particular, apparently, but divine nonetheless. You were the only one at the table who was…lesser. Even Heimdall had come in and joined you all for supper.

Why Loki insisted on having you there baffled you. That first night was obviously a formality, but there was no reason to keep bringing you along. You felt even more awkward and out of place tonight, and he still kept touching you!

But with a bunch of gods at the table, maybe you could get a few answers.

“Um, if you don’t mind me asking, where’s Freya?”

Thor hadn’t been expecting the question, but didn’t seem offended by it.

“She’s on Vanaheim, naturally.” He said, as if it were obvious. As if you knew what Vanaheim was.  “Along with her brother, and her father. Among others. Right?”

He looked at Heimdall, who gazed at the ceiling for a long moment.

“Yes.” He said simply.

“Good. They are just elsewhere right now, why?”

“Well, I just wondered why they weren’t here with the rest of you.” You said. The book had said that Heimdall could see anything, anywhere. It looked like that part was true. Did that mean the rest of it was? “Or why you weren’t with the rest of them. Why you decided to relocate here instead of…Vanaheim, was it?”

“The Earth is among the largest of the ni-eight realms.” Thor explained. “There is room for us here. And to be perfectly honest, humankind is much better at adapting to the presence of strangers than any other people I know. It must have something to do with your unusually short lifespans. Or maybe the almost aggressively social nature of your species.”

“What are the eight realms?” you asked. Your book must have skipped over that part, in its brevity.

“I believe an astronomy lesson just got planned for tomorrow.” Loki said.

“History too.” Brunnhilde added. “How’d you like to be the first human in centuries to gain an education in Asgardian history?”

“Second.” Thor muttered very quietly.

Loki and Heimdall seemed to both find that one spot on the ceiling very interesting, while Brunnhilde attempted to stare more information out of Thor.

None of your business. You turned your attention to your serving of creamy yogurt stuff-skyr-and its delicious red berry topping. Why didn’t they have this stuff back home? It was amazing. You didn’t allow Loki to drag you away until you’d finished every bit.

                                                                                     *****

 You ended up in the big library again, in another newish layered dress of green, black, and gold. They weren’t being very subtle about this. It wasn’t that they were bad colors, it was just that they were so very specific.

The prince and the Valkyrie had taken over an entire table, piled it high with books and illustrations. Loki waved you over excitedly.

“We’ve devised a joint lesson that you should find very enlightening. Come, sit. You will like this.”

He pulled your chair out for you, a noble gesture that was mostly lost on you. He took his own seat beside you.

“Let me start with the local galactic supercluster.” Loki said.

“The what now?”

“Yggdrasil.”

“The what now?”

He gestured grandly at the center of the table, from which a billowing figure began to grow and branch. Bright lights blossomed in places, glittering sparks shimmered across limbs of darkness. A masterpiece of tiny details, almost incomprehensible outside of context. It was incredibly beautiful.

“Is this…is it space?” You hazarded a guess. You hadn’t gotten very far in your astronomy book, but he had called it a ‘galactic supercluster’ which sounded rather self-explanatory.

“Oh yes. This is Yggdrasil. The Tree of Worlds, the Guardian of Wisdom. Is it not glorious?”

Another gesture, and the image began to slowly rotate.

“It’s very beautiful.” The way he was looking at you was so expectant. Was he showing off? “This is full of galaxies then? All these lights?”

“The lights are individual stars. But the glow you see is the combined light of tens of thousands of galaxies. Asgard once held influence over great swathes of this area, and our name was known and respected all throughout.”

You stared. This one image represented an area bigger than you could possibly comprehend.

“How?” You asked. It didn’t seem like there were enough Asgardians to even leave a single representative in every galaxy therein. How could the influence of one species reach so far?

“Same way everyone else does.” Brunnhilde said. “We’re really good at stabbing things.”

“There were a number of factors.” Loki said dryly. “Our great lifespans, prior connections made with other races, expansive colonies, the high number of Aesir born to us, and of course, the Bifrost. Other races had those other things to some degree or another, but no one else had a Bifrost.”

“That’s the beam of light that brought me here, isn’t it?” You asked. “That’s the thing that brought Thor, uh, the king back and forth between Asgard and Earth, right?”

“The one that brought you here is but the palest reflection of what we once had.” Loki said. “But give it time, and we will rebuild it to be as great as it once was, perhaps even better. I’m not sure you will live that long though. Maybe, if we are lucky, I can show you another planet someday.”

It was a good thing you were sitting down. The very thought of being on another world was both terrifying and elating.

“W-where would you take me?” You asked. What worlds were out there?

“Probably here.” The image zoomed in and in, past galaxies, stars, and nebulae, to focus on a very green and cloudy planet with one large moon. “This is Vanaheim. It isn’t dissimilar to what your own planet used to be a few thousand years ago. Here is Midgard, for comparison.”

The familiar globe of the Earth popped up next to Vanaheim, and your eyes widened at the difference in size. You were vaguely aware the Earth was the largest terrestrial planet in your solar system, but you hadn’t realized how big that really meant. The little image loomed over Vanaheim, nearly twice as big, and with much larger oceans.

“The differences look great, but Vanaheim is very similar to Midgard in composition, atmosphere, and ecology. Look.” Again, the image zoomed in, blowing through thick clouds, dropping down among tall forests that looked like conifers, though you knew they could not be.

At ground level, there was a small clearing from which a village sprouted. People moved here and there, looking just like regular people that you might see every day.

“These are the Vanir.” Brunnhilde said, taking hold of the conversation again. “Let me start a bit earlier in our history. Asgard became a space-faring civilization very early on, and we expanded into the star system that would become ours quickly. We conquered Nornheim, the only terrestrial planet in the system.” She gestured to Loki, who brought up an image of a large, dry, stony world, nearly as large as Earth, but without any blue or green, nothing but rock.

“This was back in Buri’s day, mind, and the Bifrost had just been built. Invading the planet was a test of its power. Turned out there actually was a race of people who lived there. They were rocks, just like everything else on the planet, but they really, really didn’t like us being there. And just like that, we were at war. We took the planet, but the rock trolls wouldn’t surrender. So we experimented with the Bifrost once more, using it to remove the trolls from Nornheim, and sending them to the next planet we found. That turned out to be Vanaheim.”

“Good lord.” You said, appalled.  “Why do all that in the first place?”

“Why do humans go to war?” Brunnhilde asked. “Not the fake reasons. Not religious or ethnic reasons, but the real, underlying reasons your ancestors always went to war?”

You thought for a moment, stripping away all the excuses, ideological differences, racial fears, age-old prejudices. What made the first man pick up a stone and smash the guy next to him?

“Resources.” You said. “Either need or greed, it’s all about what you can take from them.”

“You got it!” Brunnhilde said. “Buri was trying to build the foundations of Asgard and he needed as many mineral resources as he could get. And there was a whole planet of rocks, guarded only by rocks. So he took it.”

“Why not settle there?”

“Because it was just rocks! There was no water there, except in trace amounts in the atmosphere, and inside the rocks. No plants, no life other than the rock trolls. And Buri was obsessed with building an eternal realm for his people, from scratch. Before that, the pre-Asgardian people lived on fleets of ships, but most information from before they arrived in the Nornheim system and took over has been lost. No one knows where our ancestors first came from, and after Asgard was built, it was no longer considered important.

We mined Nornheim from then until very recently, and there was still plenty more left. It’s lost to us now. Perhaps new life will arise there again, who knows?

In any case, after the base of Asgard was built, we began looking outward again. The Bifrost allowed us to discover more worlds, and to rediscover Vanaheim. By that time, we’d actually forgotten about the whole banishing an entire species to a completely different realm thing, but the Vanir sure hadn’t!”

Nornheim disappeared, Earth disappeared, the wall of illusions focused back on Vanaheim and the Vanir.

“When we arrived, we hoped to take trees and topsoil back with us. But it turns out the Vanir had heard of us, from the mouths of a new enemy who had appeared suddenly to make war on them generations ago. And just like that, we were at war again.

The Vanir have always preferred to put down roots and stay where they are. We could have just left, and they would not have followed. But this was the reign of Borr, and Borr liked to conquer.”

You shuddered. It was a little disappointing to discover that the magical space gods ancestors had been just as bad as yours, and on a much larger scale.

“We lost.” Brunnhilde said.

“We didn’t win.” Loki corrected. “There’s a difference.”

The Valkyrie shrugged. “To Borr, a draw was as bad as a loss, because it was not a win.”

“Yes, he was rather rigid and uncomplicated like that.” Loki grumbled, as if embarrassed.

“This was your ancestor?” You asked.

“This was my grandfather.” He admitted.

“That recent?”

“It would not seem recent to you. And I never met the man. He died in war, long before any of us were born. A fitting end, I suppose.”

“It’s how he would have wanted to go, if he had ever expected to die.” Brunnhilde resumed. “The war ran long and fierce; neither the Vanir or Asgardians were very numerous at the time, but both were ferocious combatants. The Vanir are blessed with many of the strengths that our people once thought belonged only to them; long life, great strength, resilience, and so forth. And, to our great surprise, they had Aesir among them.”

“Those are gods, right?” The book had given that name to the gods, but hadn’t mentioned them belonging to different species.

“You would call them that, yeah. This was the first time we encountered them outside our own people, and it really threw us. Neither side could prove superior, so we had to try for peace instead.”

“Something Borr never tried again.” Loki interjected.

“Vanir custom demanded a trade of political hostages to ensure peace. From us, they gained Vili and Ve, Borr’s youngest sons. From them, we gained Njord and his children, Freya and Freyr.”

“So, they’re Vanir? Well no wonder they are on Vanaheim!”

“They come and go at their whims, now that we are allies” Loki said. “It’s better that they were there. Freya has a terrible temper, and while I would have personally loved to watch her punch Thanos in the face, I would not have liked to see her killed. I’ve never had anything against the twins.”

With a gesture, the trees and village swirled and coalesced into three incredibly beautiful individuals. A man who appeared to be closing in on middle age, decorated with seashells, his black hair attractively wind-blown. A gorgeous, voluptuous woman with a sword in her graceful hand, and a conspicuous golden necklace at her slender, tan throat. An extremely inviting young man with sparkling black eyes and a gentle smile, flowers in his tidy hair.

You reached out for him, without even realizing you were doing it. Your fingers passed right through, and Loki caught them on the other side, as the image dissipated around your hand.

“It’s just an illusion.” He said. “He’s not really here. A creature of base urges, are we?” He seemed annoyed.

Loki is skilled in the artifice of illusion, and he uses this to embellish his lies. So the book had said.

“Well, you made the illusion!” You said defensively.

“Oh, were you reaching for me?”

“No! I was just…” What had you been doing? You had just needed to try to touch the image of Freyr for some reason.

“Can it, your highness.” Brunnhilde interrupted, receiving a furious glare in return. “You know she couldn’t help it.”

“Is a simple image really so potent?”

“You’re Aesir, he doesn’t affect you in the same way. She’s mortal, and came from a land of grain. She was a baker, for the Norn’s sake! Of course even an image would affect her!”

“Why, please?” You asked above their rising voices. “I didn’t actually mean to do that. What happened?”

“Freyr is a fertility god.” Loki said dismissively. Oh yes, he was definitely annoyed. “He governs the cycle of crops, prosperity of all kinds, fruitfulness, and so on, and so forth. He and his retinue are associated with the baking of bread and animal slaughter; both as symbols of plenty, and as sacred offerings. You lived and worked in his domain, whether you knew it or not.”

His tone clearly indicated that he considered you weak for acting as you had, but his words sparked a pulse of pride. You had been doing, if not THE Lord’s work, then A Lord’s work.

“Oh, don’t look so smug. Fertility and prosperity gods are ridiculously common. They make up a huge percentage of Aesir across the universe. Coming under the influence of one or more is practically inevitable for mortal species.”

“You know, you asked me if I was ashamed of the work I did, or of ‘what I am’ was how you put it. And I’m not. My society really feels the need to consider poor people as less than dirt, and they take all the value away from low-paying jobs, but the thing is, those jobs are actually really important. All those jobs they say are for losers and failures are jobs that provide services that they desperately want. That they need even. Without those jobs and those workers, civilization would fall apart. What are you going to do without grocery stores? Or gas stations? Or sanitation workers? Or bakers?

The bad treatment did get to me. It gets to all of us who are in that situation, because we can see how wrong it is. But now I find out there’s a god somewhere in the universe who thinks bread is good and worth something, and surrounds himself with people like me. Why shouldn’t I be proud of that?”

“Oh, he’d like you.” Brunnhilde said.

Loki released your hand and crossed his arms. The illusion dropped away entirely.

“Anyway,” Brunnhilde continued as if nothing had happened. “We considered it safe to retreat back to Asgard at that point, and couldn’t do much invading for a while after that. But we did continue locating other planets across Yggdrasil. Some were empty, and we sent small groups to colonize them. Others were inhabited, but friendly. Borr conquered these through treaties and trade. But eventually, our army built back up. And then we located Svartalfheim. But before we go into that, would you like to take a break, to think about what you’ve already learned? It must be getting close to lunch time.”

“Yeah, actually.” You said, grateful for a small reprieve. Time to reflect on the information and ask questions without derailing the whole lesson would be welcome. So would the food. You wondered if you would ever stop feeling so hungry.

The three of you left the table as it was; according to Loki, no one would bother it for the rest of the day. You found yourself back in the side room off the banquet hall, enthusiastically tucking into a tasty lunch. At least the food was better than your budget usually allowed.

“So can you tell me more about the Aesir?” You asked.

Thor entered the room with a plate full of food.

“Specifically, why are there so many fertility gods?”

Thor immediately turned around and left.

“Coward!” Brunnhilde called after him. Loki snickered.

“Okay, what was that all about?” You asked. It was weird watching the mighty Thor retreat from a conversation.

“Oh, he’s just shy.” Brunnhilde said. “You know he’s a sky god, right? Lightning and thunder, storms?”

You nodded.

“And guess what else?”

“What, really? But I’m not drawn to touch him.”

“Eh, well, it’s kind of secondary to the thunder thing. He’s associated with the rains, but not the harvest. Freyr’s there from the beginning, to the end.”

“Gotta get me a man like that.” You mused.

Loki set his fork down just a bit harder than necessary.

“He’s married!” He exclaimed.

“Oh?” You asked, surprised that he seemed so scandalized. “To whom?”

Loki looked away from you, lips pressed into a thin line. Brunnhilde chuckled.

“A giant.” She answered.

“There’s giants?” You asked. Another kind of alien? How big could they get?

“That’s an entirely different lesson. You wanted to know about Aesir?”

You dug into a little cobbler of a blueberry-like fruit. They had called it bilberry. You called it delicious.

“Yes. So, are they just born at random, or what?”

“They can arise from any line, at any time.” Loki said. “We have recorded them in at least six of the ni-eight realms. But they do occur more commonly when there is at least one Aesir parent.”

“How do you know if you are one? You come out of the womb shooting lighting? Or does it at least wait until puberty?”

“Eh, it depends.” Brunnhilde said. “I assume they figured Heimdall out as soon as he opened his eyes. For others it’s a bit more subtle. But it gets figured out in the end.”

“But what causes it to happen in the first place?” You wondered. “This has presumably been going on for what, millions of years? When did it start? And why, and what keeps it going?”

“I’m sure every culture throughout time and space has their own mythos about it.” Loki said.  “My personal theory is that it involves the infinity stones. Which just means that I’ll never get to test it.” He grumbled.

Brunnhilde stared at him.

“Do they have an affinity for magic?” You asked. “The king said they made up everything in the universe.”

“They could be considered magical. Certainly they come from a source beyond anyone’s total understanding. There are stones that correspond to concepts so nebulous as Power, and Reality. I don’t suppose it would be too far-fetched to think they could have influenced the creation of beings such as us.”

“Excuse me!” Brunnhilde interrupted, earning a disgruntled look from Loki, who seemed to have been really getting into his theory. “Why does she know about that?”

“I honestly have no idea.” You said. “I remember what happened, but nobody knows why.”

“Is it because you have magical potential?” She asked. “His majesty said you were learning sorcery.”

“I…don’t know? Is it?” You asked Loki, but he was already hurrying out the door to yell at his brother.

“I think I know how to tell which humans can learn sorcery! Thor! She said there was a whole forum of them!”

“Thank you, Brunnhilde! You’re so brilliant!” She called out after him. “Oh, thank you, I’m aware! But it’s nice to hear anyway!” She laughed, shaking her head. “Well, there goes my co-instructor. Come on, you want to go learn about Svartalfheim anyway?”