#that’s not me saying that i’m automatically right because my wife is native for the record

[anoriginalderivative]

today was very difficult. i just want to disappear into a swamp forest 😫

[havnblog]

I'm Getting a New Car, and I Don't Care About CarPlay

Am I insane?

Time and time again, I’m hearing people say that they wouldn’t buy a new care without Apple CarPlay/Android Auto. (The after-show on the latest episode of Mac Power Users was the last example.) I also hear how stupid some companies are for not including these systems in their cars. And I just don’t get it. Or, to be honest: I think I know some reasons why my opinion seems to differ from most people’s.

I'd love to get feedback on my takes here, though! Because I feel like I must be missing something…

I live in the land of EVs

Norway has been subsidising EVs heavily for many years. And I think this statistic shows the effect well:

Year EV market share 2020: 54.3% 2021: 64.5% 2022: 79.3% 2023: 82.4% 2024: 88.2%

The proportion of new cars that are pure EVs.

To put things into perspective: The EV market share in the US is currently at 8.9%, which is well below the 13% we had all the way back in 2014 – ten years ago.

A welcome effect of this, is that we also have a healthy used-market for EVs – so I literally can’t remember the last time I talked to someone who weren’t buying an EV.1 I’ll come back to why this is important!

My experience

The car I’ve had for the last 3 years, is a 2019 Tesla Model 3, which I bought used. My wife and I are expecting our first kid in May, and we have a large dog – so we need something larger in the next 6 months. That’s why I’ve been looking at new cars again.

I’m pleased with my Model 3! But even though the Model Y probably would be the best purchase for us, I simply don’t want to buy one, due to *gestures in the general direction of Elon Musk*. Luckily, we have tons of options over here. But when I started doing my research, I found myself not caring about whether the cars had CarPlay – even though I’m heavily entrenched in the Apple ecosystem.2

The reasons I haven’t missed CarPlay

A big caveat is that I haven’t owned a car with CarPlay – so maybe I’m missing something obvious! However, I’ve never really missed it either.

Another important factor is that the software in the Tesla is pretty great. I entirely understand that CarPlay can be a hotfix for crappy infotainment, though.

But anyway, I just don’t miss CarPlay when:

I already get my phone calls etc. in the car,

the map and navigation is great, and picks up events from my calendar automatically,

I have radio right there,

and I’m logged into my Tidal account (which changes to my wife’s if she’s driving).

The only things I don’t have access to, is things like podcasts and audiobooks. But when I’m alone, I just listen with my AirPods (on transparency of course!) as I go in and out of the car. And if I’m with someone else – that’s the only time we use the bluetooth connection to the phone. So, yeah – having access to those things would absolutely be a little bonus of having CarPlay. But it’s really minor!

What am I missing? What’s so essential about CarPlay?

Could a factor be that, since we’re not English natives (and these tools are much worse in Norwegian), there’s some voice stuff I’m missing? Genuinely confused!

Overlooked negatives about CarPlay

Again, I get that CarPlay can be better than a crappy built-in infotainment – or if you’re borrowing or renting a car. But there are some things that make me dislike the idea of carmakers resting on CarPlay bailing them out:

Disconnected look

One is that CarPlay is just a little, disconnected, window of your car’s software. No one is even close to supporting CarPlay 2.0 – and if a car has two screens, they usually only have CarPlay on one of them.

For instance, an integrated system, can show your navigation information in a head-up display. And every part of the software (also the non-infotainment ones) can be cohesive. I mean, Apple fans should be able to see the appeal in that!

Battery woes

Last year, my wife and I really put the EV lifestyle to the test, when we drove from Norway to Toulouse in southern France. That was a three-day drive – but navigation and charging was effortless:

We put in where we wanted to end up,

the car calculated when (and thus where) we needed to charge – which it also changed on the fly if things changed,

and, importantly, when charging was near, it started pre-heating the battery.

That last point is important for the charging speed – especially in colder climates. And it’s something I think many people are missing, if you’re not used to EVs.

Now, please correct me if I’m wrong here – and I know all of this could be fixed in the future, but:

The thing is, for the longest time, CarPlay didn’t know about your battery’s state of charge. And hopefully the example above shows why that’s a big nerf to the navigation! They did start to roll out support for this a year or two ago – but I don’t think many cars support it yet. And I don’t think there’s a way for the CarPlay navigation to tell the battery to start pre-heating.

Maybe I’ll eat my words!

As most cars I’m looking at does support CarPlay, and also might have worse built-in systems than Tesla, I’ll might become a convert in a year. But as of now, if you’re buying an EV,3 I absolutely don’t understand why CarPlay is essential when buying a car.

Like, I wouldn’t mind it, of course! But I also totally get car company CEOs chooses not to integrate it:

The ceiling is higher on integrated systems,

and if they don’t have CarPlay to lean on, they have to work harder on making their own software great.

Perhaps you could say that, people who are really serious about making hardware should make their own software?

You know, if they’re buying a car. 🤷🏻‍♂️ ↩︎

Most of them have it, though! ↩︎

I get it more if you’re buying an ICE car – as my biggest gripe with CarPlay is the lack of connection with the battery system. ↩︎

[kunoichi-kame]

Y’know...Kai Green was pretty fucking great in concept.

Not gonna sit here and excuse the way she was written or go “but representation automatically makes her good” BUT. But. She had so much potential.

Native American rep is rare, even rarer to specify the tribe/area they come from. Was it wise to say it was her destiny to get with Ben? Not really. I’m a sucker for the trope of destined lovers, but I can see why it’s offensive that her destiny boils down to being a white dude’s wife just because. I feel like at very least, if the trope were to be pulled, it’s should’ve been a lot sweeter. Or, just avoid it all together, since the way it came off in canon was kinda like they were together purely because they were told they had to. It’s poor writing how this wasn’t framed as toxic, but there wasn’t really enough to show the romance. Still, I think it’s cool that Ben’s future wife is a Navajo woman. How common is that? Her not only being native, but a love interest interest too. How common is that in animation? Specifically how common was this for a 2000s-early 2010s cartoon? Fucking dope in concept.

She studied alien history, tracked artifacts, etc. I’m not gonna pretend that a role like this is uncommon, but it’s still cool. Also. In the possible future. Lady with a sword. Is it uncommon? No. Is it cool? Yes. I’m a sucker for swords. I don’t have a great defense here other than she is badass in concept when you consider what she does.

Of course, what makes her fall apart is how her personality was written and the aforementioned destiny shit. But IDK. I don’t get this fandom. I get why she’s hated, sure, but the few people I see who like her are romanticizing the way she treats Ben. That’s not right, “teasing” isn’t romance. Putting down your supposed lover excessively isn’t love. I can’t be the only one who looks at her and goes “okay but what about a fix-it fic.” She had so much untapped potential. Don’t get me wrong, I see the arguments for other characters being better for Ben’s endgame (Rook, Ester, Julie, mostly Rook), and yeah, true, can’t deny that they are better options in context of canon, but I don’t even mean give Kai a chance as a romantic option. Just give her a chance as a character. IDK, maybe it’s just me as someone who tries to stay in a very small fandom circle, but I feel like if a white character did the things she did they’d be met with “yasss queen,” (which isn’t right but still worth noting) and some people are so eager to justify similar characters or fix-it-fic them into not being terrible people, then there’s Kai who no one really seems to consider fixing regardless as to whether they love or hate her.

TL;DR Kai was a badass well of untapped potential that wasn’t written well, she is my very problematic fave for everything she could’ve been instead, and this fandom won’t dare touch her.

[skycollides]

Family is everything

Author note: Before I start this one is for you @everyhowlmarksthedead​ . 

This came to my mind this morning and I couldn't help but think about you. I hope you enjoy it!

I apologize in advance for grammar mistakes,

English isn’t my native language.

Words: 835

Warnings: slight swearing

’’Look, babe’’ Riz was on the phone with you , his wife of six years.

He was currently on a run on the other side of the border while you were at home.

’’I’m sorry’’ he apologized as he leaned on his bike.

You let out a sigh.

’’You do realize how often you’ve said that the past couple of weeks?!

It’s getting a bit old by now Michael. I can’t believe you won’t be home for our daughters birthday… again.’’ Your voice was sad as you pulled out the box of decoration you bought the week before.

’’Look querida, I know it sucks but the guys need me. What am I supposed to do?

You knew what you were signing up to the day you married me.’’

’’Doesn’t mean that I have to like it. It’s me who has to dry our daughters tears because her dad won’t be here for her birthday. Missing my birthday or our anniversary is on thing but this - this is…’’ your breaking 

’’You know what Michael, If you think the club is more important than being a father to our daughter then don’t come back at all after the run!’’ ending the call immediately before he could answer you. ’’Fuck’’ you shouted before you threw your phone on the sofa.

The thought of his little girl being sad on her special day broke Riz’s heart. He knew you were 

right. The club is important but his family should be his priority.

Luckily your girl had her her Tio’s wrapped around her finger so Bishop send him home early.

_______________________________________________________________________________________

Day of the Birthday

’’When is papa coming home mommy?’’ you heard your daughter ask right after everyone had arrived for the birthday party. It broke your heart looking into her hopeful eyes knowing he won’t be here.

Just when you wanted to answer her the doorbell rang.

You opened the door and couldn’t believe what you saw.

Your husband with a bouquet of your favorite flowers. He pulled you into his arms hugging you tight.

’’I’m sorry darling. You were right.’’ he let go of you after kissing your head.

’’ These are for you’’

’’Thank you. I actually can’t believe you’re here. Let’s go inside Y/D/N is desperately waiting for you’’

Once the two of you reached the living room there was no holding back for your daughter.

’’PAPA you’re home’’ she screamed while running towards Riz.

He picks her up and spins her around ’’Hola princesa happy birthday.’’

You can’t help but smile. She’s a total daddy’s girl.

Your hand automatically makes it’s way to you stomach, resting there.

All you can hope is that this one going to be attached to you.

’’Hey Y/D/N come to grandma’’ your mother says after seeing you.

She’s the only one who knows about the new addition to the family.

You walk towards your husband taking his hand

’’C’mon these flowers need some water and I gotta talk to you my love’’

Once the both of you reach the kitchen you close the door.

’’What’s up mi reina?’’ you put the flowers down on the small table next to you and make your way towards him.

Crossing your arms around his neck, his hands automatically find their way to your hips.

’’ You know I love you right?!’’

’’Yeah you’ve told me once or twice before why?’’ you can’t help but laugh.

’’Thank you for being here. I know how important the club is for you but also for me they’re our family. I’m sorry for the things I said on the phone yesterday.’’ by now you had tears in your

eyes.

’’You’re an amazing husband and father I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else Michael. 

I don’t know what I would do without you.’’

Seeing a tear escape his eye you pull away from him wiping it away. The last time you saw him cry was the day your daughter was born. He was about to reply but you stop him. 

’’Before you say anything let me finish’’ you take his right hand into yours and rest it on your stomach.

’’I went to the doctors office yesterday. Turns out baby Ariza will make it’s appearance in 6 months.

’’Are you being serious mi reina?’’ his voice was breaking while tears are running down his face.

You’re at the verge of crying too.

’’Yes Michael we’re having another baby. Stop crying or I’ll start too and believe me it’s going to take some time until I’ll calm down.

’’Sorry baby’’ he says while wiping his eyes.

’’I can’t believe it. Thank you. Thank you so much for giving me this beautiful family.’’

leaning down taking your face into his hands he gives you the softest kiss you’ve ever received from him. 

’’I love you so much. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.

Well you and our children.’’ he says while leaning his forehead against yours.

’’I have to thank you.’’ you smile.

@lauraashley93​

@spookys-girl​

[romance-geek]

sleep my long, unbroken sleep (niragi x oc)

warnings: violence, blood

author’s note: heyy guys! so this chapter is mostly about chiyori's parents and how they came to the borderlands. like the summary says, she was born in the borderlands so she's like a native of this "country" - i wanted to explore such a concept. the next chapter will be more chiyori-centric. let me know what you guys think! (also the tech from her parents' era are a bit diff so instead of smartphones and such, i had to change it a little)

summary: Kuroba Chiyori may be born in the Borderlands, but no way in hell does she want to die in it.

AO3 LINK

20 YEARS AGO ; SEASIDE PARADISE RESORT

  I just want to stay like this forever, without the boring routine of life.

The sun begins its slow descent towards the horizon, painting the sky in oranges and pinks and purples. Children screaming in delight, splashing each other with pool water. Couples lathering each other up with sunscreen. Lifeguards diligently looking over everyone.

All her life, everyone praises her wit and loads her with expectations. So, so many expectations that weigh heavily on her shoulders.

Expectations that she wants to meet.

But you can’t exactly please everyone, can you? Or maybe you can, but at the expense of your health.

Being with Kuroba Asuma is a breath of fresh air. He never expects anything too much from her, content with what she has and who she is. She first met him at a crime scene, which isn’t exactly how most love stories go but she didn’t mind because after he took her witness statement he stopped by at the library everyday for lunch. He courted her for almost a year before he asked - quite nervously, might I add - if she could be his girlfriend.

(Of course she said yes. In fact, what she said was: “Wasn’t I already your girlfriend?”)

Fast forward through the happiest years of her life and now she’s here at the Seaside Paradise Resort, a thoughtful surprise from Asuma. It’s the week of their first wedding anniversary, can you believe that? How time flies when you’re with the person you love.

A smile forms on Kuroba Kaname’s face as her husband helps her rise from the pool. Her hand automatically rests on her bulging stomach while Asuma wraps a towel around her.

Like her, he can’t help but caress her stomach, knowing that in just about a month there would be a new addition to their little family. A daughter…

“Let’s get you dried off now, dear.” He brushes off the water droplets on her face, sneaking in a quick kiss.

Kaname presses her fingers together, batting her eyelashes. He immediately catches on to what she wants and rolls his eyes. “What’s the little one craving for now?”

“Congee, some mango, aaand,” she hums for a second, “a chicken sandwich with lots of mayo!”

Asuma sighs resignedly. “I’ll order room service while you wash off.”

They walk into the elevator - or in Kaname’s case, she waddles - and press the button for the third floor. The elevator lifts up smoothly, but Kaname sways in her spot. “Woah!” She presses a hand to her head. “I feel a bit li-ligh—um, what was that word?”

“Light-headed?” Asuma asks softly, putting one of his wife’s arms over his shoulder so that he could carry her weight lest she fall down and potentially harm the baby. “I think you’ve had enough fun for today.”

The elevator dings open and they step out, Asuma nearly bumping into a man who seems almost like he’s sleepwalking. Kaname keeps her gaze on him out of curiosity even as her husband leads them to their room.

“Doesn’t that guy seem strange to you?”

Asuma throws a nonchalant glance over his shoulder. He shrugs and unlocks their room. “Probably had too much to drink. It is Paradise, after all.” Wagging his eyebrows as he says that last sentence, he gathers a giggling Kaname into his arms and closes the door behind them.

“I wish we can stay here forever,” Kaname says.

“Me too, dear.” Asuma kisses her forehead softly. “Now, let me prepare a bath for y—”

Darkness.

Drenched in heavy, silent darkness.

Silence except for the thudding of their heart, their heavy breathing as they try to understand what the hell is going on. 

“D-dear, what’s going on?” Kaname trembles against him. He could see the whites of her eyes even in the dim room, eyes searching for an answer.

Asuma runs to the window and peeks behind the curtains. He freezes, then pulls them apart completely. Kaname trails after him in confusion, asking again, “What’s happening?”

“Gone,” Asuma whispers.

“What?!” Kaname gasps. “Wh-But—How can that be?”

He turns to her with a serious look on his face, repeating, “Everyone���s gone.”

Kaname’s brows crease in a mixture of worry and trepidation, biting her lip as she rubs her belly. “That’s impossible. How can everybody disappear in a blink of an eye? Did we miss a fire alarm or something? An earthquake drill?”

“I don’t think so.” Asume grabs his phone from the nightstand and flips it open. He presses the home button to turn it on, but the screen doesn’t light up. “That’s weird.”

Again, he presses it, this time longer.

The black screen stares at him, almost mockingly.

“I was just charging this,” he says to Kaname, scratching his head. “Let me see your phone.”

Kaname’s phone yields the same results.

“Maybe our phones overheated?” Asuma suggests.

Kaname shakes her head. “It’s barely hot out. Let’s just put some clothes on and ask around. If we take too long, we might not be able to catch up to everyone.”

They dress up in a hurry, question after question popping up in their heads. (Asuma discretely takes out a gun from his bags as well as its holster.) They take the stairs when it seems evident that the electricity is out in the whole resort. Their trip is longer than it should have been, mainly due to Kaname’s state.

“You’d think a resort would have backup generators,” Asuma mumbles to her. It didn’t feel right to talk louder than a whisper, like someone may be watching them. The thought unsettles him.

Finally, they exit the resort building.

They are greeted by even more silence and darkness, with only the pale moon as their source of light.

Asuma pulls his wife close to him. “You know, I pride myself in being completely unflappable at whatever the world throws at me, but this is a little too much. The only reason I’m not freaking out right now is because you’re here with me and I don’t want to seem like a wimp.”

This prompts a giggle out of Kaname. “My goofy knight in shining cargo pants.”

“It’s so creepy,” she says after a beat. “Did we black out or something during an evacuation?”

“We’re the picture of health, dear, I don’t think we’d black out. Especially not at the same time.”

She nods. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s just walk until we see someone or something that could tell us what is going on.”

“Don’t worry, babe.” Asuma flexes his biceps, shooting her a charming smile. “I didn’t get a job at the police force because of my exceedingly handsome good looks, you know. I’ll protect you.”

Kaname rolls her eyes, placing a hand on his still-flexing bicep. “Whatever you say, dear.”

They continue walking in a vaguely uncomfortable silence further out of the resort’s grounds. It takes them almost an hour before something bright pops up in the distance.

“Hey, there’s some light over there!”

They quicken their feet, eager to get out of the darkness. What greets them is a LED TV inside an otherwise dark electronic store that says…

𝐖 𝐄 𝐋 𝐂 𝐎 𝐌 𝐄、 𝐏 𝐋 𝐀 𝐘 𝐄 𝐑 𝐒

𝐓 𝐇 𝐄

【 𝙶 𝙰 𝙼 𝙴 】 

𝐖 𝐈 𝐋 𝐋   𝐂 𝐎 𝐌 𝐌 𝐄 𝐍 𝐂 𝐄

𝐈 𝐍   𝐀   𝐌 𝐎 𝐌 𝐄 𝐍 𝐓

“Game?” Kaname whispers. “What the hell?”

“Is this some kind of government experiment type of deal?” Asuma asks rhetorically.

The text on the screen changes.

𝐓 𝐇 𝐈 𝐒   𝐖 𝐀 𝐘   𝐓 𝐎  

𝐓 𝐇 𝐄   𝐆 𝐀 𝐌 𝐄   𝐀 𝐑 𝐄 𝐍 𝐀

⬅

“Should we go? I mean, there might be people there?” She rubs her belly, as if to comfort her daughter even though it looks like she’s the one who needs comforting.

He thinks for a moment, then nods. “Well, it’s not like there’s anything else to do or anywhere else to go.”

Asuma leads the way, hand clasped tight on Kaname’s as they near what looks like a karaoke bar complete with a blinking GAME sign in neon pink and the background instrumentals of a pop song. When they cross the threshold, what feels like the sense of imminent danger falls over them. Inside is a small group of people, the majority of which glance at the husband and wife pair. All of their eyes trail down to Kaname’s protruding stomach. They give her looks that are a mixture of a grimace and a pitying look.

“Are we playing a singing game?” Kaname chirps into the awkward silence. Asuma now has his arm around her shoulder protectively. “I’m not a bad singer, but if we’re going based on scores I’m definitely gonna fail.”

Silence.

“Tough crowd,” Asuma remarks. He notices a small sign that says 𝐒 𝐂 𝐀 𝐍   𝐇 𝐄 𝐑 𝐄 and below it what looks like a fingerprint scanner. Above those two is a TV screen. “Are we supposed to scan ourselves?”

“Yes.” Surprisingly, one blank-faced man with sleeves rolled up to his elbow replies.

Asuma waits for an explanation, but the man doesn’t say anything else. “Ooookay, then.” He pulls Kaname closer as he presses his thumb to the biometric device.

𝐅 𝐈 𝐍 𝐆 𝐄 𝐑 𝐏 𝐑 𝐈 𝐍 𝐓   𝐑 𝐄 𝐂 𝐎 𝐆 𝐍 𝐈 𝐓 𝐈 𝐎 𝐍   𝐈 𝐍   𝐏 𝐑 𝐎 𝐂 𝐄 𝐒 𝐒

𝐏 𝐋 𝐄 𝐀 𝐒 𝐄   𝐖 𝐀 𝐈 𝐓   𝐀   𝐌 𝐎 𝐌 𝐄 𝐍 𝐓

“Please wait for the game to commence.” A robotic feminine voice says, the TV suddenly turning on. A timer appears on the screen. 00:59… 58… 57… “One minute until registration closes. There are currently eleven participants.”

They wait another minute through the stifling silence, but no one else seems to come. Finally, the speakers emit a tone. “Registration has closed. The game will now commence. Game: ‘Singing Contest.’ Difficulty: Ace of Hearts.” At the announcement of the difficulty level, most of the group seems to sag in relief although some still seem tense. Kaname feels a bemused smile slide over her face. So it really is a singing game? And yet, everyone looks so serious.

“Rule: Each player has thirty seconds of singing time. After each player, everyone else has to vote whether that person is a good singer or a bad singer. Condition: Guess the majority vote correctly within one minute.”

A door to one of the karaoke rooms creaks open.

Asuma and Kaname exchange a look as they follow everyone into the room. All this fuss for a simple singing game?

Someone, a young college student, clears her throat to gain the attention of everyone. “How should we decide the order?”

“Whoever wants to go, goes,” replies a gruff voice. It comes from a man whose biceps are nearly as big as his head, with eyes that scrutinize every person in the room. Asuma doesn’t feel as intimidated as he is probably expected to be because he knows that he has a trump card hidden under his jacket. He hopes he doesn’t have to resort to using it.

Everyone stands there in silence for a moment, eyeing each other with suspicion and anxiety. Asuma can feel his patience beginning to wear thin, so he lets go of Kaname’s hand and grabs the microphone in the room. “I’ll go,” he says, flipping through the songbook and inputting the numbers for the song he wants.

When the music starts up, Kaname cheers him on. Everyone else remains silent as he sings for the required thirty seconds, even incorporating silly dance moves that make the rest of the group look at him weirdly. When he finishes, the TV flashes again, text appearing on the screen as the voice dictates. “The voting period has begun. Singer, next to the songbook is a notepad and two pens - take one piece of paper and one pen. You may place your guess inside or outside, but it is required for you to wait outside while the audience submits their votes. Audience, write down your vote and fold it. You may not discuss your vote, nor can you persuade others. Once everyone has voted within one minute, the singer can return to the room. The audience will one by one reveal their votes, and afterward the singer will reveal their guess.”

“Fun.” Asuma tears out one page and takes a pen. It didn’t matter whether he actually sang well, because no one in the room is obligated to write down their actual opinion. He sweeps a quick glance around the others, but he isn’t a mind reader. What he can gather is that they are too solemn for what seems to be a trivial game, therefore there is more than meets the eye. There is also still the question of the city-wide blackout, as well as the disappearance of hundreds-maybe thousands-of people almost in a blink of an eye. So you can’t blame him for feeling nervous as he writes down his guess.

He leaves the room, flashing a smile to his wife as he does so.

“We only have one minute to vote, so let’s vote now,” Kaname says once the door shuts. One by one, they each tear out a piece of paper and write down their votes. When Kaname’s turn comes, she keeps a poker face on while tearing at the notepad. 

She bends to write down ‘GOOD.’

Soon enough, the voting period has ended and Asuma returns to the room.

“Audience, you may now reveal your votes.”

Kaname feels her heart pounding as the votes are being said, her hand holding tightly onto Asuma’s. It’s neck to neck. Tears gather at the corners of her eyes ( Why is she being so emotional? It’s just a stupid game. Stupid hormones! ) when she is the last to reveal her vote. “Good,” she croaks out. But it doesn’t matter.

Because there are 6 votes for BAD and 4 votes for GOOD.

Asuma pats her hand reassuringly as he holds up his paper, which says BAD. “Lucky guess, huh?”

She feels the tension in her body leave and a slightly teary giggle erupts from her throat. 

"I think I'll wait a while before my turn," she says.

The next two singers successfully guess correctly, and it's during the fourth round when something happens. The guy with muscles drops down like a sack of potatoes as a red laser comes for him, prompting shocked gasps all around.

Asuma immediately kneels down and takes his pulse, but… Nothing. "He's dead," he announces, but it looks like everyone except his wife already knew that. "Alright, can anybody tell us what the fuck is going on?!" 

"He didn't follow the rules," says the man with rolled-up sleeves. He was the second singer. His glasses glint in the neon light as he points with his chin to the muscled guy's hand, which clutches two pieces of paper. "The rules stipulate that singers may only take one piece of paper."

Kaname gapes at this.

Almost as if setting the tone for the rest of the game, nearly every singer up next guesses incorrectly and meets the same fate as the muscled guy. Not before long, she is the only singer left. Aside from the first three singers, only one other person had guessed correctly, so four people would be voting. 

She starts to move, but Asuma holds her back by the wrist and pulls her in to kiss her, hoping it wasn’t their last. Not wanting to prolong it any more than it has to be, she quickly takes a piece of paper and brings it outside. 

Asuma stares at his paper for a while before he scribbles down 'BAD.' He didn't know how he could cement her guess as the majority vote. Eyes burning, he kicks himself inwardly for not fulfilling his promise of protecting her.

Kaname returns with two clenched fists, a determined look in her eyes. 

"Audience, you may now reveal your votes." 

"Good.”

"Bad.”

"Good.”

What?

Asuma stares at his folded vote, then slowly opens it to show everyone. “Bad.”

The young college girl, who survived, reels back in surprise. “It’s a tie? Does that mean whatever her answer is, she’ll live?”

“No,” interrupts the man with rolled-up sleeves. “The rules say—”

“Enough with your fucking rules, man!” Asuma barks.

The other survivor is quiet. She almost looks like she could blend in the shadows with all the dark colors she’s wearing as well as the shades she has on.

Asuma wraps his arm around Kaname to comfort her when her shoulders start shaking. “Don’t cry, dear,” he says, but his assumption is wrong when she suddenly bursts out laughing.

Kaname holds up not one, but two pieces of paper.

GOOD.

BAD.

“I guessed correctly after all.”

  9 YEARS AGO ; TOKYO METROPOLITAN CENTRAL LIBRARY

Eleven-year-old Kuroba Chiyori strikes a match and a tiny little flame appears.

She guides this flame to a tall candle on her favorite bronze candle holder. In the Borderlands, electricity is reserved for the game arenas, which her parents forbid her from entering until she is at least 18 years of age. She hasn’t been able to witness a single game yet, but she knows it’s only a matter of time before her parents let her.

Because if she doesn’t know what to expect, how can she emerge a victor?

Chiyori shifts her focus back to the book on the table. Her mother, Kuroba Kaname, said that she used to work as a librarian in this very library, before she and Chiyori’s father, Kuroba Asuma, became citizens of the Borderlands. It’s her goal to read every single book in the library before she turns 18, but Kaname says that she needs to be realistic. Her mother is right, of course. The Tokyo Metropolitan Central Library has literally thousands of books, so how could Chiyori possibly read every book?

Nice to have a goal though, she muses as she flips to another page. It’s not like there’s anything else to do in here, not while her parents are gone probably watching over tonight’s games.

It wasn’t always like this. When she was younger, her parents weren’t the Queen of Diamonds or the King of Spades yet. But then two years ago, the face card representatives were finally killed off by that cycle’s players, and the positions were up for grabs. There were only a handful of citizens in the Borderlands, victors from certain cycles that chose to stay after conquering all the cards from Ace to King. Her parents decided just that almost eight years ago.

It mustn’t have been easy for them, her mother especially. She was due to give birth to Chiyori in a mere two months when they became players. Perhaps this was a good thing though, as it gave them the drive to not die. For her. For Chiyori.

As far as Chiyori knows, she’s the only person to have ever been born in the Borderlands. But there isn’t really anyone to ask, or to give her answers.

Her first memory is of her father returning home, looking as if he took a quick swim in a pool of blood. Chiyori’s fingers clutching at her mother’s clothes as she drank her milk, eyes wide as her father dropped down on one knee to ruffle her then-short hair.

Now that she’s a bit older, her parents started leaving her alone at night, in this quiet library. These books are her only friends as she wasn’t yet allowed to make her presence known to the players.

Sometimes there are game arenas close by and she watches through the windows as numbers of players enter and only a few come back out. None of the players she has seen are anywhere near her age.

Maybe that’s why she wants to join the games when she turns 18. Loneliness.

The books she’s read tell her of companionship, adventure, friendship… love. What interesting concepts. Would she ever experience such a thing?

She startles when the light from her candle burns out. Pouting, she places a bookmark on her book and closes it. That’s her last candle.

As if on cue, flashes of red catch her eye. Outside the window, lasers from the sky come down, and some people scream when they do.

There’s someone standing outside the library.

He looks young, almost as young as Chiyori. Maybe a highschooler? He locks eyes with Chiyori just as a laser comes for him.

She doesn’t move as his body sprawls on the pavement.

Books tell her that she should feel sad when people die. How can she feel sad for this stranger? At least he has experienced life before death. At least he’s out there, while she’s in here almost longing to exchange places with him.

… Well, she may be young, but so is the night.

Chiyori sprints to her closet, which is really a display cabinet that used to house heavy encyclopedias. She tugs off her pajamas in a rush and grabs a clean teal t-shirt along with cream-colored cargo shorts. Her feet are already clad in socks, so she just pushes them into her ratty sneakers.

Most games usually last until midnight, there are some that last until sunrise, and a select few can last for days. It usually depends on the difficulty of the game itself, not just the game levels.

The gamemasters and dealers use the Takebashi Station in Chiyoda City, Tokyo as their headquarters, so the distance from there to here would be… She visualizes a map of Tokyo for a moment. Around 8 to 9 kilometers! It’s far enough to watch one game and get back before midnight.

She giggles when she realizes it’s almost like that Cinderella fairy tale she read as a child.

.

 .

 .

 .

 .

 .

 .

 .

  TWO HOURS LATER

 She comes home drenched in blood.

[kingofthewilderwest]

"#just because you have a bias about certain socioeconomic groups which tend to listen to country doesn't mean" // Yup. I tend to side-eye folks who are like "I like all kinds of music except country and [Insert a genre of music usually associated with Black creators like rap and hip hop]" You're not slick, ppl. I know what you're saying.

^^^^^^^^^ You hit the nail on the head.

It’s racial bias. It’s socioeconomic bias. It’s bias against people groups who have less respect and say in society.

From my tags on this post:

#don’t get me started on a long rant of the progressive side of country music and what’s been progressive FOR DECADES#from times near its BEGINNInGS#through the modern age#just because you have a bias about certain socioeconomic groups which tend to listen to country doesn’t mean#that that’s actually what the genre is or who the artists are#I could go for a LONNNNG time about this#a LONG time#some of the best protest songs I know of today’s current political situation#are country#or have like ya’ll forgotten about the folk revival#of the 1960s#or…#gahghfnfddhgnghfngh#I AM GAY AND I LISTEN TO COUNTRY#NYEH!!!!

Now. I understand disinterest in a genre because it’s not your aesthetic, but when people express their feelings for country, R&B, hip-hop, etc. …the dialogue isn’t casual “It’s not my thing.” The dialogue is a hateful, passionate retaliation.

Other genres aren’t treated like this. It’s normalized and encouraged to hate on country and rap. These genres are systematically treated with less respect and that disrespect culturally arose because these genres are associated with less-respected demographics. 

(Country music is associated with people of low socioeconomic status, for people who aren’t explicitly aware.)

Anecdotally: I’ve caught something interesting about anti-country music sentiment. Many people tell me they can’t stand the “twang.” Half the time, I’ve noticed that their internalized definition of “twang” isn’t the vocal technique; it’s that they can’t stand the presence of a Southern accent. And hooboy does that have TONS of sociocultural bias issues. As a linguist, I’ve read endless sociolinguistic studies about how Southern dialects are treated as “lesser,” and how speakers of the dialect are automatically judged to be less intelligent, etc. It’s not good, folks.

Sometimes, to help friends get out of their anti-country mindset, I’ve “tricked” them into liking country. See, genres like bluegrass grew closely out of Scots-Irish folk music. Often, we’re playing the same tunes on both sides of the Atlantic. So I play a few instrumentals, my friend goes, “Oh! I love Celtic music

The biases against those demographics color how people view the music. There’s endless things that can be said about hip-hop bias, holy shit. I won’t focus on that today because I don’t believe I am qualified to be a spokesman. Someone who understands that genre better, and other genres associated with the African-American community, and is African-American, would be a better human to listen to than me. I defer to their knowledge and experience. It’s hella important to understand what bias has been reflected against those genres.

But there’s just as much bias against country music, against another demographic. And I’ve found it wild how it gets treated on places like tumblr, which wants to stand up for underprivileged groups, but somewhat inaccurately associates country music as “anti-gay conservative evil white person music” rather than music of people historically of lower socioeconomic status.

Yes, some of the demographic that listens to country music or plays country music are bad apples. But like… thinking the music is JUST THAT is a huge disservice to what country actually is and who the music artists actually are.

The history of country music is one giant collaborative melting pot of people from many different cultural backgrounds. Broad West African influence. Mexican influence. Italian influence. German influence. Scots-Irish influence. Cherokee influence. More. Early record labels like OKEH foolishly separated “hillbilly music” (presumably white folk music) from “rhythm and blues” (presumably Black folk music) without understanding the constant racial, demographic, regional, and cultural cross-pollination that occurred between the musicians from country music’s origins. And while there ARE certain issues in country music’s past and present, and we can’t let those issues go forgotten, that’s far from the whole story. We shouldn’t romanticize issues, but we should acknowledge that this music genre has given us major strides too.

Country music is the banjo, brought from Africa, combined with the mandolin, brought from Italy, combined with the fiddle, brought from Ireland, combined with the guitar and the dobro and the accordion and the upright bass and the electric guitar and the electric bass and whatever instruments you want to put in there.

Country music is African-American musicians like DeFord Bailey, the first radio star ever introduced on the Grand Ole Opry (THE most revered country music hub out there), blues harmonica performer, playing to crowds decades before segregation was de-legalized. He toured with white Opry musicians who treated him as one of their own. It’s soul music genre pioneer Ray Charles producing a studio album entirely dedicated to country music hits like “Hey Good Lookin’” from Hank Williams. It’s country star Charley Pride, who despite the racism against him in the 1960s rose to fame and made audiences fall in love with his beautiful voice. It’s the African-American musicians who inspired many commercial country stars, like Arnold Shultz influencing Bill Monroe and the railroad workers inspiring Jimmie Rodgers.

Country music is stars like Johnny Rodriguez and Rick Treviño, singing country music in Spanish, and using obvious Latin flavors in the genre.

Country music is filled with badass women like the ladies who STARTED THE GENRE ROLLING IN THE FIRST PLACE, Sara Carter and Mother Maybelle Carter (whose guitar style is hugely influential to this day) and Maybelle’s daughters Helen, June, and Anita; the first female music manager in the music industry, Louise Scruggs; songwriters like Felice Bryant and Loretta Lynn; the most awarded female artist in Grammy history Alison Krauss; and powerhouses like Dolly Parton who stepped out of an over-controlling entertainer’s shadow to become a badass in all things like supporting the LGBTQ community, contributing to pro-transgender films ahead of their time, and starring in sex worker positive productions like “The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas.”

Country music is filled with activism. Johnny Cash showed a heart for those forgotten by society. He toured many times in prisons. Cash especially was an activist for Native American rights. He toured with Native American songwriters so audiences could hear their own words (I’ve been trying to find names but I’m having difficulties re-finding that information, so my apologies for not giving names of those who deserve to be mentioned). Cash released albums dedicated to exposing past and present injustices against the Native American people. He went on tours specifically to Native American reservations. 

And it’s not just Johnny Cash!

Country music is many stars from the Grand Ole Opry banding together to release AIDS benefit albums - big names like Alison Krauss, Willie Nelson, Marty Stuart, aurgh I’m too lazy to write them all, PEOPLE.

Country music is Earl Scruggs and his sons playing at the Vietnam War Protests.

Country music is tied in with the fucking folk revival of the 1960s, which was deep in left-wing activism and the Civil Rights Movement. Folk singers sang traditional Appalachian and English ballads alongside their own compositions, topical pieces protesting the current political situation. You can call one artist “folk” or “Americana” and another one “country,” but the influences were intermingling, and it’s why we have Bob Dylan and Woody Guthrie and Joan Baez and John Denver and Pete Seeger owning a banjo that says, “This machine surrounds hate and forces it to surrender.”

Dammit, I have a full BOOK that discusses country music and political ties. 

There’s another book out there, which I haven’t read, that discusses the relationship between country music and the queer community, and how bias against country music is NOT as reflective of the listening demographic as we stereotype. I’ll take the word of one reviewer who said:

[Nadine Hubbs] explores country music lyrics, presenting a great deal of evidence suggesting that working class America is not inherently homophobic, but that as middle class cultural taste has changed to include formal acceptance of homosexuality, this process has included pinning homophobic ideas on the working class.

Country music is lyrics like this 1975 controversial song “The Pill”:

You wined me and dined meWhen I was your girlPromised if I’d be your wifeYou’d show me the worldBut all I’ve seen of this old worldIs a bed and a doctor billI’m tearing down your brooder house‘Cause now I’ve got the pillAll these years I’ve stayed at homeWhile you had all your funAnd every year that’s gone byAnother baby’s comeThere’s a-gonna be some changes madeRight here on nursery hillYou’ve set this chicken your last time‘Cause now I’ve got the pill

Country music is lyrics like this 2013 song that feels as relevant than ever:

If crooks are in charge, should we let them pick our pockets?If we don’t want trouble, should we not try to stop it?We could just sink into the quicksand slavery we’re born inBut fighting endless wars for greedy liars is getting pretty boringThey think they got us trained, so we’ll think we’re living freeIf we got time and money for junk food and TVBut it’s plain honest people never stand a chance of winning electionsThey just let us pick which liars take our rights away for our own protectionThe corporate propaganda paralyzes us with fearDestroying our ability to trustFear keeps us fighting with each other over scrapsStarving to death in the dustOrganized religion really helps you submitBut the meek are inheriting the short end of the stickFear surrounds compassion like a layer of moldAnd weakens our defenses so we’re too weak to be boldLife could be heaven, but this corrupted systemTakes away our rights, expects us not to miss themThe middle class is shrinking while the lower class growsIf we don’t wake up soon, we’ll have no class left to lose

Country music is Christians themselves criticizing the hypocritical Evangelical culture in the USA for the bullshit hatefulness stewing inside it:

Every house has got a Bible and a loaded gunWe got preachers and politicians‘Round here it’s kinda hard to tell which oneIs gonna do more talkin’ with a crooked tongue

And as that one post I just reblogged shows, there’s MANY queer country musicians out there producing explicitly pro-LGBTQ+ music.

I’m brushing over so much. I’m sorry for the simplification that goes with me doing such a pass-by overview. I’m sorry I’m focusing more on history than the present (I know more about the 1920s-1960s eras, so I’m talking from my strong suit). I hope the information is at least strong enough to get my point across.

There are definitely listeners and artists in country music who are uber-conservative white hateful Christians. Yes. I know why country music gets associated with that. But.

Country music is not ABOUT this uber-conservative white hateful Christian side. The genre is not “polluted”. It is a thousand voices from a thousand perspectives of people from many backgrounds and beliefs. And many of those thousand voices are old traditional songs that came from Black communities, or were composed by Mexican-Americans, or were performed by folk artists as part of a protest for equal rights. 

(Note: I’m *NOT* saying all Christians are bad or that different political angles don’t have merits. I’m Christian myself! And you don’t know my political party. I’m just trying to get the point across that country music isn’t ENTRENCHED in one questionable demographic.)

You don’t have to like country music. It doesn’t have to be your aesthetic. But if you find it fun to get in on society’s popular country hate roasting… please rethink this. The reason country music has been hated from its roots is because it’s associated with the socioeconomically disadvantaged.

I’m with you 100%, Ashley. When someone says they like all genres “except country music and rap,” I get a little leery. I used to be one of those people when I was younger. I had to learn to grow past those biases. But once I did, I realized there was so much I was hating on that I didn’t understand. Now, I hope I can help people overcome their own biases, such as ones they don’t realize they’ve had - for things like music.

Hi ya’lls. I’m queer and I love country.

P.S. If anyone has anything to add or correct, please feel free to add on! I’m doing my best but I do not know everything and would be happy to learn more, too!

[curuniel]

Library(ies)

For the first prompt of the Tyria’s Library anniversary event. This was meant to be a short story, but it turns out a story in three parts isn’t going to be short.

“This one, this one!”

The young Jura Ogawe bounded back towards his parents, heedless of the heavy sigh that came from a librarian giving up on quiet in the children’s section. His father came to meet him, shushing him with a wink as he reached for the book Jura had picked out.

“Alright son, what do you have there?”

Jura’s mother laid a hand on her husband’s shoulder as she came up behind him and peered at the cover.

“King Joko the Implaccable versus the Wurm of Ronjok?” she read, raising both eyebrows as she did.

Her son grinned, practically bouncing where he stood. “It has pictures! Of the battle!”

“Illustrated by Vinanda Bayet,” Jura’s father noted with increasing amusement, “whose artistic career has apparently taken a few turns since that palace ceiling fresco up north.”

He handed the book back to Jura, who immediately opened it and began looking eagerly at the pictures. Beyond his notice, Jura’s mother drew her husband aside for a quiet word.

“Do we really want him reading things like that?” she asked. “Today it’s how King Joko saved Kourna from a rampaging sand wurm, but tomorrow…”

“Tomorrow he’ll being going to school anyway,” Jura’s father pointed out softly. “Better that he be reading the same books and playing the same games as every other child. We agreed –”

“- that is was safer for him. I know.” She sighed, even more wearily than the librarian had. “It just leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”

He gathered his wife up in his arms. “We’ll talk to him when he’s older,” he murmured for her ears only. “When he can understand the risks. It may be harder when the time comes, but at least Jura will live to see it.”

She nodded against his chest. “And may Grenth give me the strength to endure ten more years of those gods-forsaken books.”

Jura’s father chuckled, and Jura’s mother shook with her own muffled laughter as he hugged her tighter, and Jura obliviously dropped to sit and read his book with wide, uncritical eyes.

*           *           *

Much older, and alone, Jura flicked through pages irritably now and the swishing sound of paper drawing a few eyes to him. That was the problem with libraries – quiet enough that the slightest irritation was noticed – but he was beyond caring about etiquette today.

It was more of the same. Tehelo was one of King Joko’s favourite biographers (of many) and it was starting to become obvious why. Every paragraph contained another overblown description with too many adjectives, not to mention comparisons to events in the author’s other works so that every battle and feat of magic was cross-referenced. The sycophantic quality of the writing, however, was not what was frustrating Jura.

This happened in my lifetime, he thought. The dragon Zhaitan, an ancient power that could raise the dead… as nothing but shells for its will, less than the simplest Awakened. Or so he had always believed. In Vabbi they had been taught that the dragon roamed the seas to the west from its lair on the risen island of Orr, making it impossible to cross to other continents. Elona was a last bastion of safety, the sulphurous Desolation a barrier against draconic doom. But then…

He flicked back to the beginning of the chapter. 1326 AE: the slaying of Zhaitan. The way Tehelo told it, someone suggested in King Joko’s hearing that the elder dragon must be the greatest necromancer the world had ever known. Annoyed at the comment the Eternal King had harnessed a mighty mount and travelled all the way to Orr to strike down Zhaitan and prove once and for all that Joko was the greatest master of necromancy in the history of Tyria and only true commander of the dead. The book, Jura noted, did not mention anything about the fate of the person who had insulted the king.

But none of this made sense as it should. 1326 was only a few years ago; if King Joko was setting out to slay an elder dragon, it was inconceivable that he would do it without full splendour, tribute and boasting. Jura remembered nothing of the sort. He remembered hearing stories about Kralkatorrik (how King Joko had allowed the dragon to send its crystal minions into a Vabbian palace that had blasphemed against him, then stood and commanded it to leave the rest of his kingdom untouched) – but Zhaitan had hardly been mentioned. Until King Joko had proclaimed he had destroyed it.

“This isn’t –” he began out loud, but it wasn’t the glare of a nearby librarian that made him finish the thought in silence. None of this is right.

*           *           *

The sun of the afternoon beat down hot, but Jura was new enough to Amnoon that it still felt like paradise. There was shade both natural and artificial, water when he needed it, gardens unlike anything he’d seen since leaving the halls of Vabbi behind. And he wasn’t wearing armour, which made the heat significantly more bearable. It had been days before he had really felt comfortable going out without armour, but today he felt almost normal in a shirt with a sash, loose pants and sandals.

And a sword. He’s left his ragged shield behind, but he wasn’t going to abandon all sense just because he was in a city again.

Today he was strolling into the surrounding farmland, marvelling at the freedom with which he passed in and out and the decidedly alive cavaliers who nodded to him on his way past. There were people at work here, tending the land and maintaining a marvel of an irrigation system whose workings Jura didn’t yet understand. There were refugees, too, as there seemed to be on every inch of the roads here, and the priests that aided and escorted them. As Jura walked past two priests of Kormir who were poring over a book together, he had to stop and look again at the huge figure his eyes had skimmed over next to them.

The man was easily two feet taller than Jura, and certainly twice as wide at the shoulder. He wore a beard in two braids and a dusty blue robe within which he seemed to be cooking, though he had the sense to have the hood up against the sun. His skin, from what Jura could see, would not have taken kindly to it otherwise.

Jura’s surprise much have shown more than he realised, because the giant man chuckled and gave him a wave. Curious, Jura wandered over.

“Ahai, friend,” the stranger said in a deep voice. “Let me guess; first time meeting a norn?”

“Ah… I suppose it must be. I’m afraid I’m not familiar with… your people,” Jura replied carefully. “I hope that doesn’t cause you offence.”

The norn gave a dismissive wave, then wiped his brow with his sleeve for good measure. “Not at all. We’re not native to these parts, in case that wasn’t obvious.” He chuckled at his own expense. “I prefer the cold, if I’m being honest. Though your city and its harbour are truly lovely!”

“Not my city,” Jura said automatically, then “although… I’m not sure where is, now.” He didn’t want to get into that, so he quickly moved on. “Where are you from then, sir norn?”

He broke into a true smile. “The Shiverpeaks! Great, snowy mountains full of fearsome beasts and majestic sights. Far away, I’m afraid, across the sea. But I’m here as a representative of the Durmand Priory, and the sharing of knowledge is an adventure I will tolerate your devastating sun for.”

The norn gestured at the cart behind him, and Jura’s eye widened momentarily. It was a wagon of sorts with hinged and shuttered sides, currently latched open to show rows of neatly shelved books. Seeing his expression, the norn chuckled again and invited him to take a look.

“The Ossa Legacy… Three Lands, One Sun… An Unauthorised History of the Order of Whispers,” he read aloud.

“We put that one in there just to annoy them,” the norn admitted with a wink.

“I’ve never heard of any of these,” Jura said wonderingly. Then, quashing the wonder from his voice, “and you say these are true histories?”

To Jura’s surprise, the response was a shrug rather than a sales pitch. “No history is ever really a true history. They’re all biased in one way or another.”

“Some more than others,” Jura noted with a touch of bitterness.

“True,” the norn acknowledged. “But these are from our scholars’ collections. Think of them as versions of history told by people who left these lands hundreds of years ago.”

There was a moment’s hesitation before Jura ventured, “may I… read a little?”

“Of course!” The man looked pleased, and it was hard to stay suspicious of him when his emotions seemed so free and genuine. “As long as you don’t take anything away or, say, throw it in a ditch, you’re welcome to read as long as you like.”

Jura, discovering he did not have the words to express everything he was feeling in that moment, made a bow instead and picked a book off the shelf at random. Within seconds he was sitting under a nearby awning, devouring every new piece of knowledge he could find.

[cloud-of-daisies]

Once i tried to write a fanfiction. It didn’t go well. But i decided to try to write it again. And there we are. I have just finished it. It’s my first fanfic. I’m not a native speaker so it’s very possible that there are mistakes. I hope you will love it.

So, enjoy

----

Undying love

One-short

Fandom: Marvel, MCU, Thor Movies, Thor Ragnarok

Pairing: Loki/Reader, Loki/OFC, Loki/Sigyn

Warnings: Death, Blood, Angst, Fluff.

Words: 2529

Summary: Loki had a wife a long time ago. Now she’s standing right before him. He should be happy but it’s not the best circumstance for the reunion. Because Loki have to save Asgard from Hela.

(I decided to name OFC Sigyn ( Loki’s wife from Norse mythology) cause I didn’t want to use Y/N) Enjoy the story.

Loki PoV

There she is standing, my darling, my love, my beautiful wife. She still looks the same. Only her eyes, once were bright and full of love, now are empty and lifeless. All I want is to hug her, kiss her and tell how much I love her. Oh how I’ve missed my wife. But it can’t be my love. I lost her so many years ago.

One century ago

Third-Person PoV

It was warm, sunny day. Loki and Sigyn were reading in the library. Sigyn’s head was on Loki’s shoulder and her hand was running though his short black hair while Loki was reading the book out loud. He loved when his wife stroked his hair even though he’d never admitted it to her.

Suddenly they heard an explosion and screaming. They immediately run out of the library and were trying to find out what was happening. In the corridor guards were running, people were panicking and trying to find a save place.

They saw Thor running toward them. He was dressed in armor and there was with Mjolnir in his hand.

“Brother, what’s going on?” asked Loki. He took Sigyn’s hand in his and started to rub it.

“Some barbarians have blown up the west and the east wings of the palace. We don’t know how they broke into. Guards are evacuating people. Brother, we need help. There too many of them. Warriors Three and Lady Sif are already dealing with them in the east wing. We are to help in the west wing. ” said Thor.

Loki turned to his wife. The look of terror was on her face. He cupped her face in his hands and said: “Darling, you need to find a save place and hide. It’s too dangerous. I don’t want for you get hurt.”

“Loki, there are children. We need to save them. I’m not to just sit and do nothing.” answered his wife.

Loki sighed. He knew his love was a good warrior and also a powerful magician just like he. They were taught magic together by Frigga. Loki and Sigyn loved to read spell books and learn new tricks when they were children. They were partners in everything and always went on missions together. However Loki was still worried about his wife. He was always very protective of her. He was better to suffer himself than let anything happen to his love.

“All right. But please, stay by my side and be careful.”

Sigyn nodded. They transformed into their armor and run to the west wing.

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

When they arrived there was chaos. Barbarians were destroying everything and kill everyone that was standing in their way. Their only purpose was to cause death and destruction. The barbarians had been trying to disturb peace in the kingdom for many centuries because they were against Odin’s ruling.

Thor was fighting barbarians with his hammer. Loki was using his daggers and illusions to trick the enemies. There were too many of them. Sigyn was trying to get people to safety.

She saw a child, a little girl, curled up in the corner. A barbarian was heading toward her with his sword ready to kill terrified kid. Sigyn knew she had no time to thing and run toward the child. She embraced the girl protecting her from the barbarian. The sword went through the woman’s stomach. Even her armor wasn’t able to stop the weapon from tearing flesh. She let out a bloody scream and fell to the floor.

Loki immediately turned and saw a sword in her abdomen. His face turned pale. He started to scream “NOOOO” and run toward his injured wife. He brutal killed the barbarian with his dagger, sent him flying through the room and the body hit the wall.

The little girl was crying and a guard came to take the child to her mother.

Loki pressed Sigyn’s body against his chest. The blood was already pouring from the wound and her face was as white as snow. Loki pulled out the sword from her abdomen and stared to use healing spell but the wound was too deep. Sigyn started to shut her eyes.

“No, no, no, my darling, don’t close your beautiful eyes! Look at me. Everything is going to be all right.” Loki’s voice cracked and he started to sob.

“Loki” Sigyn’s voice was weak and she knew she didn’t have much time left. It took her all might to bring her hand to Loki’s cheek. “Hey, my beautiful husband, I will wait for you in Valhalla.” She smiled sadly.

“Don’t say that. You will be okay. We will have a child, a boy or a girl. Or better both. The girl will be as pretty as you; she will have your bright eyes.”

“And the boy will be handsome as you, with black hear and ocean blue eyes?” She started to cough and there was blood coming out her nose and mouth.

“Yes.” His eyes were tearing up. “And the boy will be handsome as me.” He is laughing through his tears.

Sigyn’s breath became swallowed. Her hand was running through Loki’s hair. “I love you, Loki.” A thick tear dropped on Sigyn’s cheek. “I love you too. Please, my love, don’t leave. How is about our ‘happy after’.” He placed a soft kiss on her cold lips.

He begged norns to keep his wife alive. But his prays weren’t heard

Loki felt her hand fell and Sigyn became numb in his arms.

“Darling, no! Open your eyes! Please, I don’t know how I will live without you.” Loki was crying in her chest.

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

In honor of Sigyn Loki built a little garden with a beautiful statue of his wife. The statue was her perfect image. Her lips, her hair, her eyes, and her skin -they are all something he really loved about her. But She wasn’t there anymore. She wouldn’t be able to stoke his hair. He would give anything to have her again. Loki didn’t know how to exist without his love.

Now

Loki’s PoV

Then I remember that we need to stop Hela and start Ragnarok in order to save asgardians. I need to put the skull of surtur into enteral flame. The only thing that is standing on my way is my wife. I am looking at her with wide eyes still can’t believe my sight. There is a weapon in her hand which is the same as others skeleton soldiers have.

I want to kiss her and hold her tight. I have tears in my eyes. I've spent so many years after her death to find a way to bring her back.

After the loss of my wife I became so cold, distant.

I thought if I had a throne that it would make her proud. In the end it just took me further away from her.

Sigyn’s PoV

Hela have ordered to defense the armory. My only purpose of my existence is to serve her. I am to kill everyone who wants to stop her. And now my task is to kill Dark Prince. He is looking at me with hopeful eyes.

I have strange feelings inside me. Like I know him somehow. I want to hug him, kiss him and never let go. I quickly put those thoughts aside.

We have been standing there too long. I remember my purpose. I must kill him.

And the battle between us begins.

Loki’s PoV

I am still trying to find a trail of my wife in her eyes. On a second I think I see something changes like she is trying to remember me. Unfortunately, if fades next second. Because my wife is dead. I didn’t let Odin burn Sigyn’s body. Because it would mean that she would never come back to me.

Hela must have resurrected Sigyn with her army. I don’t know if she has done it on purpose. I am not even sure that she knew about me and Sigyn. I guess Hela made her tell everything about us. If so then Hela know that I won’t hurt my wife even so she wants to kill me.

She starts attacking me. I am only defending myself. I don’t’ wish to harm her. I am thinking how to bring my darling. I need to find a way to bring her memories back and I think I know how so touch her forehead and I am showing my most precious moments together.

Sigyn’s PoV

He touches my forehead and everything goes black.

My eyes flutters open and I take in the room.

I see two children, a boy and a girl. Both are incredibly young. I look closer and I can’t believe my eyes. They are me and Loki. In the midst of all the adults are dancing and twirling through the night little Prince Loki and little me. Loki was trying to be extremely careful, making sure he didn't step on my feet. He is so cute. A faint blush was creeping over his face.

Then the scene changes. We are standing near lake. Loki is holding my hands in his. I know how deep Loki’s love ran as I see he plucked up the courage to confess it.

“I love you.” Loki whispers, he watches the smile appear on my face before I utters the words he had waited so long to hear.

“I love you too.”

Everything becomes bright. The sunlight is streaking into my eyes. I’m lying in bed.

I squinted and shifted, snuggling further up Loki’s chest to avoid the sunlight. Loki’s arm shifted with me automatically, pulling me close once more.

“This is the best way to wake up every morning,” Loki said, eyes flashing in that way that made my stomach drop pleasantly. I just pulled Loki down for a kiss.

I remember one of the happiest days in my love.

The day he proposed to my when I had started crying at first. He had thought he had done the wrong thing, only for him to realise they were happy tears.

My smile could brighten up any room when we announced their engagement.

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

I remember it all. The late nights in front of the fire, sneaking into each other’s chambers, making love in any space available and the many dates I and my Loki went on around Asgard.

The tears start to fall from your eyes. You can’t stop them. I feel hands wiping them out. I open my eye and see blue one looking at me with so much love. I can’t hold myself anymore. I hug him, holding him tight. I kiss his cheek and whisper “Oh, Loki. I love you so much. Please forgive me.”

“Love, I love you even more. You have no idea how I’ve missed you. Everything is ok. We are together. That what is matter.”

“No, Loki” I say.

Loki’s face shows shock, confusion, sadness. “What do you mean No. I can’t lose you again. I’ve just got you back” his voice is trembling.

I take his face in my hands. I don’t want to go. I want to be with him again. It breaks my heart to see tears in his eyes.

“Sigyn, come with me. We will be together again.” Loki pleas.

I gently kiss him and he kiss me back. I wish we could stay like this forever, holding each other and kissing. But we can’t. He need to destroy Asgard in order to defeat Hela.

I brake the kiss and looking his straight in eyes say “Loki, no matter that I wish to be with you again but I can’t because I’m dead. And you know.” and like that I lift the illusion. Now he can see me.

I have pale green skin, most of my flesh is rotten, you can see my bones. There is no heartbeat or warmth inside my body. The look is horrible and disgusting. There is nothing left of a human, everything is dead. I AM dead.

I know that Loki will love me no matter what. He will still look at me with love in his eyes even though I look hideously.

I start stroking his hair. I know he loves it although he has never admitted it.

“My dear husband, you need to save your people. You can’t help me because I’m dead. But you can save them and aid help Thor in defeating Hela.” I said. “Let me go, my love. We will together again when the right time comes.”

Loki’s PoV

“Let me go, my love. We will together again when the right time comes.” My love says. My vision is blurred cause of my tears. How can I? How I let her go after all these years I have been trying to bring her back?

But I know she is right. We will be together again and then nothing will be able to separate us.

I kiss her last time. It is passion kiss full of love. How I miss these feelings. But it has to end. And when I open my eyes she is gone. Again.

After Ragnarok

We did it. We saved asgardians by destroying Asgard. How ironic. But I couldn’t stop thinking about Sigyn. I still felt her lips on me. These memories brought tears.

My daydreaming was interrupted by attack. I knew who it was. It was Thanos. And I knew that most likely I wouldn’t make it to Midgard. I need to protect Thor. After all he is a hero. And by the way I was sure most of midgardians would despite me. Maybe this was my chance to be with my wife again. I wouldn’t lose this opportunity.

And now I am standing here, pledging him my undying fidelity. I know that I won’t be able to kill Mad Titan with this knife. I double that it can even harm him. At least I hope he won’t touch Thor. I am sure he and his stupid friends will find out a way how to stop Thanos.

Thanos is choking me. But the only thing I am thinking is Sigyn and I how I will see her soon.

And everything turns black.

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

I open my eyes. Everything is too bright. My eyes have adjusted to light and now I see the most beautiful creature in entire universe. It’s my wife.

I quickly stand up and run to her. I take her in my arms and kiss her.

After that long kiss full of our feelings I put back and look into her eyes. They are so bright, beautiful and full of life. Finely we are together. She smiles at me and says

“Hello, love. Welcome to Valhalla”

[writingithink]

Thinking, Or Lack Thereof Pairing: Ten x Rose Word Count: 3,767 For @hey-there-juliet ‘s prompt:  cuteness time spent in a planet's jail because the Doctor did/said something out of jealousy? The Doctor is denying, of course, Time Lords don't get jealous. And Rose is disgruntled that the nice day they had planned was going to be spent in jail....  [tagging @doctorroseprompts (?)]

Summary:  The Doctor ruins what was supposed to be a relaxing day on an alien planet, getting them thrown in jail. Rose is not amused. 

READ IT ON AO3

The metal door slammed behind them, there was a clicking sound as automatic locks engaged, followed by retreating footsteps as the Doctor and Rose were left alone in their cell. He gave the place a quick look - not the worst prison they’d been in, that was for sure. Bed, toilet, sink with a little mirror even. No window, though, and that was unfortunate.

Different escape plans began to race through his head as the Doctor turned to Rose, opening his mouth to begin sorting through their options.

“Shut it,” she said with a huff, crossing her arms and glaring at him.

Oh, she did not look happy. Not at all. The Doctor nervously rubbed a hand through his hair, trying not to wince. While Rose had never slapped him, he had a feeling that she might, and that in all likelihood it would put Jackie Tyler’s slap to shame.

“Just what was going through your head back there, anyway?” she asked. “Explain it to me.”

The Doctor suddenly wished that they had been placed in separate cells.

Earlier that day …

It was supposed to be a relaxing day. They were walking down a busy street on the planet Shemarl. The Doctor had managed to successfully land them during the brief window of time where the weather was safe for humans - the very beginning of their spring, which to Rose felt like summer. They walked hand in hand as he led her toward a shop he hoped would have the part he needed for the TARDIS.

“So, what else is there to do on Shemarl?” Rose asked him, swinging their arms back and forth.

“Well, the province we’re in is famous for two things,” he told her. “The crystal reefs off the coast of the bay near where we parked the TARDIS, and this dish they have. It’s called Mnisztk. Tastes kind of like a mix between strawberries and lavender, with the consistency of melted ice cream if that ice cream also was a bit fizzy.”

“Menis- Mani-”

“MiN-IsZT-K.”

“Mnisztk. Fizzy creamy stuff. Alright,” she nodded, smiling up at him. “We gonna try some?”

“Oh absolutely! We can go once I find the part I’m looking for,” he nodded, grinning back.

It had been such a nice day, really. In hindsight, this is where he figures it had all gone wrong. Well, started to go wrong, at least.

“You’re always ages lookin’ at space junk,” Rose complained. Before he could tell her that it wasn’t ‘space junk’, she continued on. “This is a peaceful planet, yeah? Why don’t I go look at some of the other shops while you hunt around for gadgets.”

“I do not hunt around for gadgets!” the Doctor asserted. “If I happen to find a few extra items while working to maintain my magnificent timeship, which you take for granted I might add, it’s only because I can see their potential uses. In the future, or for emergencies.”

“Or to add to your collection of broken toasters,” she snickered.

“You know what, fine, you can go look around at trinkets and clothes that will never save our lives one day. We can meet back here in … an hour?”

“It is going to take you way more than an hour,” Rose asserted. “Last time we went lookin’ for parts, we were there for like 5 hours!”

“You’re exaggerating. It was only 3 hours, 42 minutes and 56 seconds,” he informed her, nearly rolling his eyes. “But fine, let’s make it two hours. This place isn’t nearly as vast as the warehouse on the moon of Luron.”

“Alright then,” she agreed, letting go of his hand. “See ya in two hours!”

After giving her mobile a quick glance to keep track of the time, Rose gave him a little wave and began to walk toward the nearest boutique. The Doctor watched her go, distracted for a moment by the way the skirt of her sundress hugged her swaying hips and flowed around her thighs. The combination of the teal dress and her blonde hair made Rose stick out brilliantly against the drab buildings and the planet’s red sky. It took him a moment to snap out of it and continue walking to the shop he had in mind, berating himself as he went for his inability to control his own thoughts when it came to Rose Tyler. He was a Time Lord. He wasn’t supposed to think about those sorts of things, but then again he had never really been a model example of his species.

“Right, two hours,” he muttered to himself. The brief time apart would probably be a good thing.

In the end, Rose had been right about his - erm - enthusiasm for alien technology. By the time he’d given any thought to how long he’d been, the Doctor was already nearly five minutes late (4 minutes and 34 seconds, to be precise). After paying for his parts and getting back to their meeting place, he had been keeping her waiting for 13 minutes and 19 seconds - or so he thought. Rose seemed to be nowhere in sight.

Hoping that she hadn’t gone looking for him or went back to the TARDIS already, the Doctor began to slowly walk up the street, back the way he had just come, keeping his eyes peeled. It wasn’t long before he caught a glimpse of pink and yellow and teal. He quickly crossed the street to find Rose talking to one of the natives, a tall male with light grey skin, black hair and violet eyes. They were both smiling, and as he got closer he could hear Rose’s laughter.

“Hello!” he greeted them both, forcing his mouth into a grin. “I’m the Doctor! I see you’ve met Rose.”

“Greetings,” the Shemarlian replied. He had a deep voice and a lyrical accent, and now that he was up close the Doctor realized that Rose’s new ‘friend’ wasn’t wearing a shirt. “I am Riztaek.”

“Weeeell, nice to meet you Riz, I’m sure, but Rose and I had best be going. Lots to do today and all.” He grabbed Rose’s hand, intending to leave immediately. His skin felt all tingly, and not in a pleasant way.

“Wait, Doctor,” Rose complained, digging her heels and refusing to budge. “We were still talking. Riztaek was saying-”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure. Really, though it’s nearly midday,” the Doctor complained. He had stopped tugging on her arm, but was still ready to leave.

“So?” she hissed, “You’re being rude. Again.”

He rolled his eyes before turning back to face the tall, muscular alien that Rose was just so keen on talking to for some reason.

“You were saying?” The grin on the Doctor’s face now felt painful, more like a barring of teeth than an actual smile.

“If you must go, I do not want to keep you,” Riztaek said, politely. For some reason this just made everything feel so much worse. Because now Rose would think less of him, because apparently he couldn’t help being rude and obviously this Shemarlian bloke was just trying to make him look worse at this point.

“Oh, sure,” the Doctor snarked, losing what little self restraint he may have had when it came to his gob, “that’s just great. We can’t leave when I want to go, it’s only by your leave. I’d like to know what was so important. Obviously Rose wants to stay. Shall I give you two a moment?”

“Erm, well … he was sayin’, about the crystal reefs-” Rose began slowly, before he interrupted.

“The crystal reefs?! Really?! That’s all this is about? Riiiiiiight. I suppose he wanted to take you out on a transparent platform at sunset so that you could see the light refracting off the crystals, making the water pulse with colour?” he drawled sarcastically, even though the Doctor had intended to do exactly that.

“Well … yeah.” She ripped her hand out of his grip and placed her hands on her hips.

“That’s hardly a clever line here,” the Doctor felt the need to inform her. “Though it is obvious that you’re an off-worlder so I suppose he-”

“He is right here,” Riztaek piped in, “and you, sir, are bringing great insult to me and my family with your insinuations. It shall not be tolerated.”

It all went downhill from there.

Now ...

“Weeeeell, I suppose it would have been good to know that he and his wife own a premier platform rental company,” the Doctor allowed.

“Oh, right. Well maybe we coulda covered that if you hadn’t been so jealous that you wouldn’t even let him talk!” Rose accused, turning away from him and stomping over to the bed where she sat down and began to glare at the wall.

“Jealous?! I’m a Time Lord! Time Lords don’t get jealous.”

“Yeah, right.”

He wasn’t going to dignify that with a response. Or at least, he didn’t intend to. She was making it very difficult, though, with the way she was no longer talking to him or even looking at him. A full minute didn’t even pass before he gave in.

“I really wasn’t! I was just … concerned that you were going to be taken advantage of by- and really, what kind of respectable businessman goes around shirtless like that? How was I supposed to know?” Even to his own ears the defense was pitiful.

“The kind who works at the beach.” Rose finally turned toward him, eyebrow raised.

“Well, we were hardly near the beach,” he huffed, sitting down next to her. The Doctor took it as a good sign when she didn’t immediately get up and walk to the other side of the room. “Excuse me for assuming he was another one of your pretty boys.” The last part had been mumbled to himself, but unfortunately she still heard him. Of course she did, that was just how this day was determined to go.

“Excuse you? My pretty boys?! What are you on about now?” She stood up and glared down at him.

This was it, he was sure of it. Rose would slap him, likely into his next regeneration. He opened his mouth, but words wouldn’t come out. Nothing he could think of was likely to help.

“Tell me, Doctor, when was the last time I was hangin’ around some bloke?” she asked.

“Erm … ah, well … not including Riz?”

He watched in terrified fascination as Rose’s fists clenched at her sides. Maybe he was wrong about the slapping - maybe she was going to punch him.

“Right, yes, no, of course not Riz because he is married and you were certainly not int- ah ah um, Mickey?” he guessed, and quickly realized that he had guessed wrong and should have not mentioned her ex and childhood friend who they had very recently left in a parallel world. “Wait! No! Of course not Mickey, you said that was over ages ago, so … Adam? Or no, Jack?”

“Adam.”

“Ol’ door in the head. Right. Not Jack, really?”

“We may have had a bit of a flirt, but look who’s talkin’.”

The Doctor was a little offended, but resisted the urge to comment. That was a door best left slammed shut and locked, never to be seen again. Instead he just sighed and laid down fully on the bed. Maybe it would be best if he just went back to figuring out an escape plan. Then they could go back to the TARDIS, onto the next adventure, and never speak of this again.

Except Rose was obviously still mad at him, and he hated it.

Except Rose had just sat down at the head of the tiny cot of a bed, and even upside down he could see that she was upset - anger somehow being traded for sadness.

“I’m sorry,” he told her.

“For what? For being jealous and gettin’ us thrown in here? For ruining a perfectly nice day? Or for insinuating that I travel around with you just tryin’ to pick up blokes?”

“All of it. I’m sorry.”

“So you admit it, then,” she half laughed, “you were jealous.”

He had kind of walked right into that one, hadn’t he? The Doctor let out another sigh and was surprised when he felt Rose’s fingers carding through his hair. He shut his eyes and was determined not to question it. Usually she only did this on the TARDIS, either when they were trying to wind down from a stressful adventure or on the rare nights when he tried to sleep and then had a particularly bad nightmare. He loved it when she did this.

“Doctor?”

“Hmm?”

“You know there’s no reason for you to be jealous like that every time I happen to be talking to a guy,” she said.

“Is that so?”

He wasn’t sure where she was going with this. Well, he could make assumptions, but best not to. Those would only make things worse. It didn’t matter, anyway … whatever he might feel. There was nothing to be done about it.

The Doctor waited for her to continue speaking, but she said nothing. After a few moments, her hands left his hair.

“Why’d you stop?” he found himself asking, even though he hadn’t meant to.

Turns out it didn’t matter, as he got no response anyway.

“Rose?” he sat up and turned to look at her.

She had gotten up and was now leaning against the concrete wall, her arms crossed. He had thought that she was starting to cheer up, but now it seemed she had become unhappy again all of the sudden. It was hard to keep up, honestly.

“What’s wrong?”

For a moment their eyes met, but then she turned hers toward the ceiling and then finally the wall.

“It’s- I don’t- never mind. It’s nothin’.”

“It doesn’t seem like nothing.”

Rose moved her hands to her hips, crossed them again, stamped a foot against the floor and then began pacing the length of their cell. The Doctor decided it was probably in his best interest to draw as little attention to himself as possible. While she was usually incredibly easy to spend time with, Rose did sometimes have a temper. It had never been directed at him quite like this, but there was a first time for everything.

“It’s just, just … I don’t know what you want, okay?” she finally turned to him. “We never talk about it, whatever this is between us. So could you just tell me? Clearly, with words? Because we need to stop tip toeing around it. It’s driving me mad! Because just when I think, ‘okay, we’re definitely just friends’ you go and do something ridiculously sweet, or you get stupidly jealous for no reason. I mean, obviously I’m- I’m not gonna- god, just say something!”

Unfortunately, the Doctor was finding himself quite speechless. Possibly for the first time in his life. Well, at least this life.

“Doctor?”

He had a decision to make.

“Are you gonna say anything?”

This is not what he thought was going to happen today. Not something he ever planned on talking about.

“You know what, fine. Forget I said anything.” Rose turned away, heading toward the other side of the small room.

No more time for thinking. Action. Decision. He was brilliant, after all, so even if he had no idea what was going on in his brain at this exact moment, chances were it had already solved everything for him. He stood up, opening his mouth to say something he was sure would be great, whatever it was. Two long strides and he was caught up with her, arm reaching out and turning her around. Now he was going to say something.

Except he didn’t say anything.

He didn’t say anything, because instead of doing anything remotely reasonable, he leaned down and kissed her.

He kissed her, and it felt as though every single neuron in his brain surged into action all at once. And then abruptly shut off. All in the span of .02 seconds. Once his brain came online again, there was an influx of information bombarding him, all so quickly that even he couldn’t keep up with his own thoughts.

The feel of Rose’s lips. The way she tastes. I’m snogging Rose Tyler. The chemical compositions of the different hormones in her system. What am I bloody doing right now? Rose’s lips are so soft. How she smells. Why haven’t we always done this? She tastes like mint, and really unacceptable raspberry chapstick, and tea, and Rose. Her pulse. The feel of her lips moving against his. This is a horrible idea. Her hormone levels might be arousal related, then again it could just be shock. Her breath against his face. Wait, Rose Tyler is kissing me back- ! -! She smells like lilacs, and 21st century-Earth cosmetics, and coconut bath products, and the Shemarl breeze, and Rose. How was he ever going to make himself stop snogging Rose Tyler? Her heart rate is elevated, but not dangerously so - perhaps just the right kind of elevated. She just made a noise - soft noise, almost a sigh, seems happy or pleased. There is absolutely no reason at all to stop snogging Rose Tyler.

Once he finally finished processing (or stopped paying attention because a decision had been reached) the Doctor gave himself over to the experience. And so it was Rose who ended up pulling away, gasping for breath as she did so.

“I’m sorry,” he told her, not exactly sure what he was apologizing for - many things at once, really. Too many to count, at least right now. His entire being felt oddly fuzzy. He was very disoriented.

“Sorry that you just kissed me?” she asked, worry evident on her face.

“Not at all.” The words left his mouth without any thought put into them. Apparently logic and reason were taking a holiday today. The Doctor wasn’t sure if he cared, just then.

“You sure?”

“I’m never sure of anything.”

That had to have been the wrong thing to say, but Rose just burst out laughing. The Doctor wasn’t sure when his respiratory bypass had engaged, but he suddenly realized that he wasn’t breathing.

“What? What’s so funny about that?”

She just kept laughing.

“Rose?! Why are you laughing? Are you okay?” He placed his hands on her shoulders and leaned down so that they were at eye level as he began a quick visual examination - he was beginning to feel concerned.

“I’m fine,” she giggled, gently pushing him away. “‘S just you finally admitting that you’re just as clueless as the rest of us.” She barely managed to get the last bit out before peals of laughter made it once again impossible for her to talk.

The Doctor rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help the small smile fighting it’s way onto his face. Eventually Rose was able to gain control of herself.

“Sooooo …” He didn’t know where to go from here. She had wanted him to say something, something about what they were to each other, and in all fairness he had meant to say something. But he hadn’t. And the, er, demonstration hadn’t exactly been planned.

“So?”

Obviously Rose wasn’t going to make things easy on him.

“I, well, it’s … complicated.”

“‘S that so?” Her grin was a little too smug for his liking.

“Yes,” the Doctor asserted, straightening and adjusting his jacket, “as a matter of fact, it is. There’s a lot of …”

“Baggage?” she guessed, doing a poor job at not grinning.

“That is not what I was going to say.”

“Overthinking?” Rose continued her guessing game.

“Inter … species … stuff,” he mumbled, regretting trying to do any of this human-y talking rubbish in the first place. Especially when he could have just tried kissing her again. Not that he should kiss her again, but … having snogged Rose Tyler once, it was rather difficult for the thought of it to leave his head.

“Interspecies stuff?” Her brow furrowed. “So this is just more of the whole ‘you’re human and I’m “the last of the Time Lords” and 900 years old’ thing? Really?”

The Doctor tried not to be insulted by the air quotes she had put around ‘last of the Time Lords’, but he was pretty sure his face twitched as she did it. He didn’t know how to respond to that anyway, if she obviously thought it was such a joke. Rose surprised him by stepping closer and putting her hands on his cheeks, looking him in the eye.

“I don’t care about any of that. I care about you. And … don’t you think, if we feel the way we do about each other, it’s better to be happy when you can? In the time we’ve got with each other? Because aren’t the good memories what’s supposed to get you through the bad stuff?”

Rose was so human. So delightfully human.

It was a beautiful sentiment, but one he doubted was true. Even so, he wanted her to be right. Wanted her to justify this for him. So he kissed her again, hoping that maybe this would be enough. Because he didn’t have words for any of this. No easy reference points to tell her what it is he wanted. No way to simplify the differences between Time Lords and humans when it came to anything like what he felt for her.

His time sense didn’t exactly fail him. It was still there, of course. There was nothing wrong with him. It had just … moved completely out of his awareness, in a way the Doctor wasn’t sure he had ever experienced before. So when Rose once again pulled away to breathe, he had no idea how much time had passed.

“So, is that a yes?” she asked him, and it took a moment for him to remember exactly what they had been talking about. His mind once again felt like someone had managed to stuff cotton balls into it.

“It’s … yes. Yes.”

Of course it wasn’t going to actually be that easy. The universe never allowed for things in his life to be easy. But it was a start, and he was going to take it.

Her answering smile lit up her face and made it all worth it.

“I was going to take you,” the Doctor found himself blurting out, unprompted. “To see the crystal reefs. I had wanted to take you. I’m sorry that we ended up here instead.”

“Here ended up not being so bad,” Rose said, her smile widening and her tongue peeking out from between her teeth.

No, he thought, no it hadn’t.

[dailyaudiobible]

03/12/2021 DAB Transcript

Numbers 16:41-18:32, Mark 16:1-20, Psalms 55:1-23, Proverbs 11:7

Today is the 12th day of March welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I am Brian it's great to be here with you today as we continue our journey, the journey that leads us through the Bible in a year. And we’re well on our way in that journey. But there is so much out in front of us to experience and see. And, so, we have a grateful heart for the distance that we’ve traveled and the things we've learned so far. But we also have a grateful, an anticipation, a grateful anticipation, for all that is yet to…to be, all it is out in front of us. But we’re here. We’re right here right now. And, so, the next step forward is before us. We’ve been reading from the New International Version this week. Picking up from yesterday. Numbers chapter 16 verse 41 through 18 verse 32.

Prayer:

Father, we thank You for Your word. And as we bring to a close the second of the gospel narratives, the book of Mark, we thank You for the witness to Your life and to Your ministry and to Your personality and to Your posture. We've witnessed Your determination to bring the truth out into the open and that the false be eradicated. And yet we’re 2000 years in the future and we’re still in the same struggle. And, so, come Holy Spirit You have promised to lead us into all truth and yet so often we choose to veil ourselves in something false because we’re naked and ashamed and running because we’re afraid to be exposed. And so often that comes because we…we’re ashamed. And maybe for good reason. Maybe we have plenty of things that we’ve been involved in while bearing Your name that we shouldn't have been involved in, and were they exposed we would be ashamed. But we’re here with open hands and open hearts saying remove these things from us, reveal these things to us, reorganize our lives, bring us back into complete alignment so that we are who we are supposed to be, and we have nothing to hide, we are true, we are true and righteous before You. Come Holy Spirit we pray. Make us more like Jesus, that we might be conformed to his likeness, that we would be Christ like, that we would be like Christ. Come Jesus we pray. In Your precious name, we ask. Amen.

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And that's it for today. I’m Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hello, my dear DAB family this is Maria Missionary in Mexico. So, as you know we are here to be a service to the people the missionaries who work among the native indigenous people groups here. A lot of people ask, “why are you in Mexico? Isn't it a reached country already?” You know what? Missions has evolved through the years and I think of the old days people just kind of thought that if they came spoke the national language to…to the native people, that they would understand, get saved, and that would be that but it just didn't work out like that and a lot of the people have…have syncretism, which is they took Christianity just kind of what they understood of it which wasn't a lot and mixed it with their native beliefs. And, so, for example in the Guataheal tribe they believe that the sun in the sky is god the moon is his wife and they had two children, they had Satan and Jesus and Satan is the older brother. They are the children of god and the rest of us in the world are the rest children are the devil. And their god only speaks Guataheal, he doesn't speak Spanish or any other language. So, if you go to them and tell them we have a message for you from God in Spanish well you can imagine they automatically dismiss you because it doesn't make sense to them culturally. So, that's just a little bit of a taste of what missionaries that work among native groups face as they translate the Bible and love these people and help them with their physical needs and plant churches. So, please be praying. Please be praying for missionaries who do work among them, that they would have wisdom, and that…that hearts would be open to hear the truth. Also praise the Lord with us that there is a church now among the Guadaheal people, a young church and that there are missionaries from among them as well helping with the translation and one lady and her husband are reaching out to an entirely new tribe for her. So, that's really exciting.

Hey neighbors it's Lisa the Encourager. Today I want to reach out to Maria and her daughter Taylor. And I heard your story and it really gripped me. And I just can't even imagine what your heart must be feeling every day thinking about your sweet Taylor that you gave birth to and you never dreamed that something so awful could happen to her. And I just pray tonight especially for Taylor and I just want you to know that my heart aches for you and I know that God is gonna be able to see this through for you and I am going to pray now. Dear God thank You for Maria and thank You for her being brave to call us this evening and tell us about Taylor and Taylor’s story Lord. And we know that You love Taylor so much and You do not want this for her life. And God thank You so much for the ministry of the men that are going to intervene in Taylor's life and do their best to take her out of the horrible situation with somebody. And I pray God that that will be successful. I thank You so much for the bravery of those men and I just pray that they will be…and women…I pray that they will be able to convince Taylor to leave and that You will just break her heart and help her to give up and surrender to You Lord. And I just pray God that You will forgive her and help her to get her life back and lead her with the Holy Spirit back to You.

Hello DAB family this is Greg from Bothell. I…I've called before for…for my own prayer requests but today I just feel led to…to reach out and…and let some DABbers know that I'm…I’m listening to…to your requests and I want to just take the time to acknowledge you all. Just I've been behind a little bit and I'm going through the 5th of…of…of March and I listened to Lynn and her family, her grandchildren, her four grown children and her daughter and this unbeliever husband that's inattentive. I just I'm going pray that Lord Jesus just will open his eyes and…and…and…and reveal himself to…to this this family and this father that…that…that he will take care of you and…and keep you in…in…in his loving arms. Maria follower of Jesus, daughter Taylor 26 that's in this…this relationship with this man that's pimped her out and she's…she's involved in drugs and prostitution and this massage parlor and…and…and team Andrew that's going in to rescue her. O Lord Jesus just…I just pray for Taylor and Maria and Andrew that You would…that You would be there in the midst this that You would come Lord. O my God Lord rescue Taylor and bring her home. O Lord Jesus and…and…and Julie in southern Illinois, your marriage, that God God…that God use you and He knows your heart and He knows your husband's heart. And Lord I just pray that You rescue Julie in her desperation and her sadness. In her loneliness she says she's lost…

Good morning DAB. Good morning DAB family it's Nadene calling from East to Midwest praises to God. Woo…out of breath…I just lifted something, but anyway praises to God. This morning as I was listening to Brian March 9th and listening to the prayer requests. There's so much I could pray for. And add to all who had prayed for all the others…others who had asked for prayer I just want to say DAB family we are a strong bunch. I mean those who are going through things right now it's so difficult. And, you know, of course I won't make light of it, but we are winning. You are on a winning team. It's a fixed fight and we've already won the fight. God is so good and I just love the fact that this DAB team is getting stronger and bolder and we are praying in faith and we are believing in faith and we're gonna to win. We're gonna win. So, let's keep our eyes with eyes looked to eternity and from eternity because it's just one big story, God's story and we are blessed to be a part of it. It's not an easy…not an easy journey. Once you become, you know, a follower of Jesus we have a target on our back and somehow, it's an honor to know that the enemy feels that…feels that we are such a threat. Anyway, God bless you everybody and I just wanted to put my log in the fire. Nadene from East to Midwest. God bless.

Hello Daily Audio Bible community my name is Kelly from Boston Mass and I called in last fall. My husband and I have been separated for almost a year. It'll be a year this month and I called in for prayers of reconciliation and restoration in healing. And we had our first grandchild that was due to arrive or did arrive on New Year's Day. So, it was a beautiful way to start the 2021 year out. We celebrated our 32nd wedding anniversary last Thursday night. Ironically, I was listening to Brian because it was his anniversary with DAB. And it was…it just breathed some life into me that there might be some light or some kind of shift in my husband's heart for us to restore our marriage. I can feel little nudges from God here and there and I'm trying to pay attention to them. We have a long way to go but I just want prayers from all of you if you can that this 32 year marriage can be saved. We hadn't seen each other in a couple of months, and we had very little communication, but it was probably one of the nicer anniversary dinners we've had in many years. So, again I'm just praying and hopeful that God will find our way…help us find our way back to each other and have a healing and happy second half to our marriage and a beautiful ending together with our first grandson born on New Year's Day. I appreciate the prayers and I pray for you all on a daily basis. I love this app. Thank you.

Good morning family it is Wednesday March 10th. Good morning good morning. I'm calling in a prayer request anonymously. Hence, I have gotten myself into a pickle. I have taken my eyes off Christ and put them on myself and what I want and what I desire and who I desire and how I can get what I want. And spoiler alert it's a hot mess. O my goodness friends and family, turns out when you take your eyes off Christ and you focus only on yourself it's harmful and sin is the result and sin damages relationships. And, so, I'm watching the fallout of all these relationships be harmed because I took my eyes off God and put them on myself. Friends, cautionary tale. If you would lift me up and just really help me put my eyes back on God and what He wants and the work He has for me and prayers for the healing of the relationships I've damaged through my sin. Thank you, friends and family. Peace to you.

[black-dragon1998]

Lost in another world part 3

thanks in advance for reading this. English is not my native language, so sorry for any mistakes you read.

part 3/3

part 1 part 2

The signal had been sent and the only thing you could do now was, wait. You did have to hand it to Stark he had good tech, not as good as the enhanced tech you and your mother had been able to develop with the knowledge you gathered from the fortress of solitude.

“So that’s it?” Tony had stayed by your side to see that you didn’t mess up his computers and was barely able to follow how you worked to access his satellite.

“yes, it’s that simple. I have a tracker in my suit that automatically sends a signal to my family every 10 minutes, the only thing I had to do was amplify the signal, coming from my suit so it would breach this space and time barrier.” You explained to him without looking at him. It really started to work on your nerves how much he doubted everything you did or said.

“Tony leave the girl alone.” Natasha said the moment she stepped into the lab. You quite liked her, she kind of reminded you of your aunt and it was a grounding feeling admits this chaos. This time you turned around in your chair and smiled at the woman.

“(Y/N), the others and I were going to start a little training session and were wondering if you liked to train with us for a bit?” at hearing this you jumped out of your chair. You had a lot of cooked up energy and were ready to blow off some steam.

 In the training room you saw that the rest of the Avengers had already suited up. “well if everybody is going to be in their suit, I might as well change too.” With that, you turned the watch you have on. Your suit manifested over your normal clothes and sealed itself around your faces. Like your mother, it bore the family symbol, but instead of a skirt, your suit was in one peace. Tapping the side of your head your mask disappeared and retraced itself into your suit. After that, you look at the team and smile.

 “so, who is first?” you say with a cocky smile.

“I will go first. Let’s see if you really can back up your talk.” Tony says while calling on his iron suit. you circled one another for a couple of seconds. You don’t know his fighting style, so you wait for him to make the first move. After a while, it seems like he was losing patience and charge at you with his suit hand raced ready to strike you in the chest. as he came close you saw the palm of his hand light up and it seemed like a powerful blast would come from it.

You just stood there and waited for him to strike. Just like you expected a blast did come out of his hand and you met it with your heat vision. It seemed like it was going back and forth with the blast for a while but as you grew tired of it you just intensified the blast. In no time your heat vision overpowered his blast and broke his metal arm.

“next.” Tony looked at you dumbfounded but didn’t say anything and stepped back. It were Steve and Bucky who stepped forward now.

 “let's see what you can do against the two of us.” Bucky said as he smashed his hands together. Steve in the meantime readied his shield. You could see that they were used to working together and moved like a well-oiled machine.

The stance they took looked like they were trained soldiers, and very used to fighting with one another. This could be fun, the only ones you were able to fight at the DEO were your mother and aunt. And both insisted it has to be under the effects of a red sunlamp. So, seeing how you would do at full force was kind of exciting.

You stood your ground when they advanced on you, ready to react when it was necessary. Unlike with Tony, this two immediately advanced on you so you, you took on a battle stance.

 A blue portal opened in the room you and the Avengers were training, you immediately recognized it for what it was and reassured them it wouldn’t harm them. “relax it’s not going to hurt you.” You say calmly.

“(Y/N) Astra Kieran Luthor Danvers Zor-EL!” at hearing your full name being yelled like that your calm demeanour was fast replaced as you turned to the team.

“about that not getting hurt, whatever you do don’t look her in the eyes and don’t interrupt her for anything, that only will make it worse.” You say in a hushed voice, afraid she might hear you. The Avengers looked confused at your reaction.

“(Y/N), who is that person?” Natasha asked. You took a big gulp before answering.

“my mother.” With that, a familiar blond stepped out of the portal. For a moment you forgot your fear and rushed to her to hug her.

“Jeju! I’m so glad to see you. I thought my signal hadn’t gotten true.” You confess burying your face in her shoulder. Kara immediately embraced you.

“I’m so glad to see you unharmed little one.” Your mother said holding you tighter. You stood there for a while holding each other tight.

“what are my chances, life in prison, death sentence.” You asked looking up at Kara while resting your head on her shoulder. You felled her body shake, for her trying to contain her laughter.

“that flair for the dramatic you so have from your mother.” She stated. Before you could respond Tony stepped forward.

“this the woman we shouldn’t make eye contact with?” he asked looking Kara up and down. “She doesn’t look all that intimidating.” He said with a raised eyebrow. this time Kara couldn’t hold in her laughter.

“Sorry sir, but I don’t think she is talking about me.” Kara said in all honesty. This made all of them confused.

“aren’t you’re her mother?” Wanda asked.

“yes, but not the one she is trying to avoid.” You had tried to sneak behind a couple of the Avengers, but she caught you red-handed. You stood up straight and gave her an innocent smile.

 “Kara! Where is she? She better be alright, because otherwise a whole lot of people are going to be sorry.” The voice of your other mother cutting the air like a knife made you try to hide behind Kara this time. You actually saw a couple of the Avengers take a few steps back, smart men.

“she is alright love, she is the one who sent us the signal,” Kara said while grabbing your shoulder and dragging you in front of her, so you were in full view of your mothers lasering eyes. You didn’t dare to meet her gaze as she stepped closer.

“Hey, mum.” You say shyly. Like with Kara you were pulled into another bone-crushing hug. This was the moment it hit you how much you had missed your parents.

“are you sure you’re alright? No scratches, no bruises?” she asked looking you over.

“no mum, I’m alright.” You say a little embraced. Your family reunion was disturbed by a very confused billionaire.

“hold on for a moment, so you are both her parents?” Lena stood in front of you and Kara, feeling this was a discussion that would require her CEO skills instead of Supergirl skills.

“yes (Y/N) is ore biological daughter, problems.” Lena glares at Tony with, which makes him gulp. Maybe you were right to tell to not make eye contact with her.

“Sweetheart, take it easy,” Kara whispered into her wife’s ear while pulling her against her.

“We don’t know who these people are and (Y/N) seems pretty comfortable around them,” Kara said, trying to reassure her wife.

“Stop saying me to calm down!” Your mother almost yelled stepping away from Kara. “I have been unaware of my daughter's whereabouts for 72 hours and I’m in no mood to calm down.” Lena raged. Kara raised her hands figuring she wasn’t going to win this fight.

Sensing it might be best for you to step in you hugged her again. “I’m okay mom.” You tell her again. like you hoped she hugged you back and held for a couple of seconds.

“feeling better?” you ask when you pull back. Lena can smile again, so you knew it would be alright again.

“now that I know you are safe, yes.” She says. “I like you to meet my new friends.” You say turning to the Avengers.

“mom, Jeju I like you to meet the Avengers. They are like the Justice League,” you beam as introduce them. “the one in the iron suit is Tony Stark, he is like ore batman. The one with the shield is Steve, he reminds me of uncle Clark. The man next to Steve is Bucky, his best friend. The woman with the red hair is Natasha, she is an actual assassin. Next to her is Clint her partner. The girl in the red outfit is Wanda, she has these crazy cool powers and finally next to her is Vision. Vision is an android.” You were rambling of these facts in your excitement, this made your mother smile. This was definitely a trade you had from Kara.

 Kara stepped forward stretching out her hand toward Steve. “I like to thank you for taking care of our daughter. It really means a lot to us someone was there to take care of her while we couldn’t.” “not a problem Kara. She is a sweet kid.” Steve answered while they looked at you, saying goodbye to everybody. “she can be a hand full, but she has a big heart.” Kara couldn’t help but smile.

 “bye, everybody.” You jell behind you before stepping to the portal that would take you back home. Seems your moms had opened one up in the Livingroom of your house. When the portal closed behind you three, Lena turned to you with a stoic face.

 “alright hand it over!” without protest, you dug the portal device out of your pockets and handed it to her. Hoping that would be it, you started to turn away.

“and the watch.” She did raise her voice when she said this, but you knew not to argue you had seen this coming. “you are grounded and released from superhero duties for three months.” Lena simply stated. You could help the pout ore the whine. “moooom.” “We could always make it four.” She answered raising an eyebrow. You quickly shut up, with Lena Luthor those were no empty threats. Instead, you turned to Kara. “sorry ukiem, I’m with your mother on this one.”

“I’m sorry, I know I scared you guy’s.” both your mother's eyes softened as they kissed you.

“We know you are.” Lena said into your hair. “the grounding still stands.”

want to support me Buy me a Ko-fi

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Silence in the Library || Morgan & Mike

CW: Depression

@exorciseyourspirit

Morgan finally leaves the house to be an adult. Mike makes her regret everything.

Amnon was getting close to finishing his big project. There were just a few finishing touches he needed for it, and then, hopefully, it would all fall into place. As long as no one figured out what it was that he was gathering, then he had no need to worry. The little medium and the hunter and the dead wife could pose a problem, especially if the three began corroborating, but he had a plan in mind to take care of them, too. All it would take was one display of power, and they’d back off. Just like everyone always did. But today, he was at the library for a different reason, picking out books that seemed, to most people, to be normal historical reads. His chest ached dully-- turns out, broken ribs were a problem. He should’ve remembered, he’d been human once, but time made fools of memory. Rubbing his side, he stacked another book on his cart and moved along, turning the corner-- and very nearly running into someone he’d never expected to see here. It was, however, a pleasant surprise. “Aahh,” he said in Rebecca’s cheeriest voice, “if it isn’t the bottom feeder.”

Morgan had to return her library books eventually. Her automatic renewals had tallied themselves up until they could tally no more, and every morning she opted to stay curled up on the floor or in bed beside Deirdre, the library desk replied with a frighteningly cheerful message that they were still waiting for her returns. So, bolstered by her quiet Beltane and the bright day, Morgan forced herself outside to return them. It’s not that hard, she told herself. Get rid of some bad research memories. Actually have something to say in response to “how was your day?” It wasn’t that hard. She could pull herself together long enough for a library trip. She liked the library, didn’t she? But as soon as the books were dumped, Morgan had a panicked, self-conscious feeling that her drab sweats and not-washed-recently-enough sweater were being judged by the family and students milling in. Shrinking from the attention, she marched herself inside, trying to hold herself like she belonged there and hadn’t just crawled out of the house for the first time in a week. She went to the fiction section, always the easiest to find, and did her best to pick out a novel or two to take home. Something she could hide herself away in, a safe bet.

Morgan, dizzied by the abundance of titles, impulse settled on two books that she had been meaning to get to and already knew half the plots of from pop culture discourse. See, she was fine. She had picked out books like normal, together people who knew how to be alive. She was fine--then she was crashing into a book cart and Rebecca. Or rather, the thing that lived inside her. Her face fell with disgust. “Don’t you have any other tricks besides that one?” She asked, a thin edge to her voice betraying how it still hurt. “It’s not a good idea to remind me how easy it would be to drag you down with me. And then where would you be?” She looked down into the cart, angling for a glimpse at the titles. Whatever he was up to, it was safe to bet it wasn’t anything good.

Amnon just smiled. How easy it would be to remind her of her place or to show her how little power she actually held in the moment-- but he didn’t need to. It would just be for her sake and he cared so very little about it. “Lovely to see you, too,” he said, leaning against the car to look at her amusingly. “You know, it’s cute how you think you’re actually threatening.” He plucked another book from the shelf, glanced over the title, and set it in his cart. “I’m sure it works on most people-- it’s the little ones you have to watch out for, after all--” waggled a finger, “but you’re cute little antics don’t threaten me at all. How’s your girlfriend?”

Morgan went stiff, gripping her book tighter to her chest. Any pretense of pleasantries fell from her expression. She turned hard and bitter; had she been alive she might have flushed with her anger. “You don’t know the first thing about who I’m seeing,” she snapped. “And I’m going to keep it that way, Mike. And if you think that I won’t hurt you just because you’re wearing my friend as a meat mask, you can think again. I’ve been through death, dipshit. You don’t scare me.” She shoved the bookcart away to one side, rattling the wheels and knocking off the topmost volume from the stack and started to go.

Amnon was delighted to see that mentioning her girlfriend set her off, stepping away slightly as she shoved the cart aside. He simply crossed his arms and looked over at her. “Oh, I don’t think that you won’t hurt me, I simply think that you can’t,” he said with a shrug. “You’ve no idea what I’m capable of, after all, and you? I know your limits. I know your weakness,” he finished quietly, taking a single finger and dragging it across his throat in one, fluid motion, the universal sign of decapitation. He bent down, hiding his wince of pain in his ribs, and picked up the book, dropping it on the top. “So, go on then-- are you gonna show me what you’ve got? Or do you just wanna spit venom at me.”

Morgan stopped in her tracks. She should go, she thought faintly. She should go and crawl back into her hole under the blankets in the bedroom. There was a voice in her above the death-pit that knew this. But the rest of her, the part that raged, that wouldn’t message Remmy, that watched with jealousy as animals died, pulled on her. And it was so galling, to hear these words from Rebecca’s voice, Rebecca who wasn’t even here to be sorry or understanding or judgemental. Rebecca who she couldn’t even be angry at for letting this happen to her in the first place, for deciding she wasn’t good enough to have her curse broken in a way that would have given her a real life. And this ghost, this thing that had screwed her worse than Constance was laughing behind her face, was enjoying himself like she was something to play with-- Morgan whirled back, stomping towards her, arm outstretched to see how the two of them liked feeling broken.

She took the bait, just as Amnon expected her, too. Newly born vampires and zombies always seemed to hold such anger. It was the same story, over and over again, even when they knew it was coming, even if it was something they’d told themselves they wanted-- the pain of a lost life was always more than they could handle. Even Amnon had felt that way when he’d first materialized. In a way, he sympathized with Morgan’s plight. But in his eons as an incorporeal swirl of power, he’d lost the ability to do just that-- sympathize. And so, when he saw her hand reaching for Rebecca’s wrist, it took only a second to unleash the power in him, a telekinetic ram slamming into Morgan and pushing her back into a shelf. He stood up, no longer smiling, eyes hollow. “I told you,” he hissed, “you can’t hurt me.”

Morgan’s back slammed against the wall before she could even give Rebecca’s body a scratch. Had she been alive, something might have cracked. But as she sank to her feet in a clumsy mess of limbs, staring at Rebecca with horrified awe, her bones righted themselves on their own. “What the hell?” Had Rebecca always been able to do that? She scowled, straightening. “And I said I’m not afraid of you. You think that felt like anything?”

“Oh, I’m well aware of your tolerance to pain,” Amnon said darkly. People were beginning to gather, but he didn’t care. “Try and touch me again and I’ll show you just how far your pain tolerance can go.” He turned and grabbed his cart, pushing it around the corner, away from Morgan again, only to run straight into-- Morgan? “I thought I told you--” but something was different about her this time. It wasn’t her. Black and white stripes and a menacing look to her eye-- Amnon knew within seconds what this was. In the next, the cart was slamming into Rebecca’s broken ribs and he was keeling over. Funny how that worked out. Being human, being vulnerable.

Morgan was going under, not on the ground, but in the part of her that knew the appropriate thing to do was run like hell in the other direction and leave Mike to whatever fate awaited him. She was storming towards him again when someone--some thing darted out from the stacks and gave him one to the ribs with the cart. Morgan stopped short, the wind starting to flag out of her sails, and then-- “Oh, earth.” It was her. Only, it wasn’t. They locked eyes, and the mime creature flashed a look of menacing glee. She staggered towards her in a cartoon like zombie walk, then mimed taking a knife from her hip and lunged. Morgan held her hands out to keep the mime at bay, but somehow, despite all odds, the fabric around her sweater split and a trickle of blood peeked through along with a pinch of discomfort. Morgan shoved her away, hard enough to make her stagger a few paces and walked--into the hands of Rebecca’s mime double. The mime woman kicked her off balance at the knee and threw her to the floor. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Lucky for Amnon, the Morgan-mime seemed more interested in her actual counterpart. Although that made him feel a flash of anger. How dare someone ignore him. Gritting his teeth, he stood back up, clutching his side, strode forward-- and came face to face with Rebecca. He blinked, bewildered again. “You can’t be--” he started, mind reeling for a moment. No. He was in Rebecca. This was just an illusion, or a dream. Like in his sleep. And then it hit him-- both literally and figuratively, as a fist dug into his stomach again and he collapsed to the floor. “Oh, chara!” he cursed, slipping back into his native language subconsciously as he let loose a string of Arabic curses. The Rebecca mime reeled a foot back to kick him while he was down and he gathered himself just enough to raise a hand, eyes flashing, and throw her straight through a bookshelf, toppling it over onto the Morgan’s.

Morgan didn’t stay down long. She was crawling away from this and going home. “Fuck mimes, fuck curses, fuck this town, and--fuck!” She barely rolled away from the falling shelves in time. There was no safe direction to run towards--except to Mike. She didn’t have time to be baffled at aligning with him, just enough to get behind the person who could make shit fly. “You might want to be running,” she started to explain, but her mime double shouldered her way out from under the shelf, groaning with hunger. One arm hung loose and all wrong from where the books had crushed it, but she staggered towards them with ease, one foot determinedly over the mess, then the other. The Rebecca double, not far behind her. “Yeah, she definitely skipped breakfast.” And Morgan didn’t have much on her for stopping either one in their tracks. Well, at least not for good. “You got any better ideas besides playing slap fight?” Their doubles scrambled up the shelves on pantomime ladders then higher, til they dangled on the ceiling. Morgan backed away from their strange painted eyes as they smiled down at them and leaped in for another attack.

Amnon did not sit well with being made to feel weak. Eyes flashing again, anger rising, lights began to flicker. A low hum as the electricity in the air began to build. “Yes,” he growled, Rebecca’s voice low and dark. “Kill them.” He followed her line of sight up to the mime doubles hanging from the ceiling and stopped on the lighting fixture Morgan’s was holding onto. As if from seemingly nowhere, it crackled, sparked, and exploded, toppling the mime, setting her ablaze with electricity. The smell of rotting flesh filled the room, and Amnon staggered, winded. He’d forgotten how much power it took, coughing into a hand. He pulled it away to reveal blood. In the next moment, a heavy body came down between him and Morgan-- Rebecca. Well, the mime of her. Fists curled around his neck and squeezed. For the first time in perhaps thousands of years, Amnon gasped for breath-- and for help.

Morgan’s double fell within feet of her, spasming with the impact of more stimulation than even her dead body could take. Morgan brought her foot down on her neck, eyes screwed shut as she felt the bones give and the muscle pulp. It wasn’t real, she told herself. It wasn’t really her down there, getting rubbed into the carpet and even if it was-- Morgan grimaced as she brought her foot up again and stomped into her skull--she was a lucky bitch to be out of her misery so fast, even if she was evil and “Gross--!” Filled with black blood. She turned to check if Mike was seeing this, but he was a little occupied getting strangled. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. She could leave him. Maybe she even should, but he sounded too much like Rebecca, wheezing and desperate. Morgan could imagine exactly how the heart in Rebecca’s body raced, how the lungs must be trembling with panic, fighting for just a little more in the world. And Morgan saw Blanche and Rebecca’s students collapsing under the news, and hearing that she had let it happen and knew she still didn’t want to be another creature that only took from the world  “Damnit, Mike!” She crossed the short distance between them and wrenched the mime double’s arm until it popped out of its socket, then pulled her, ragdoll style, free from Mike before pinning her against the wall next to him. “Yeah, I’m between meals too,” she said. “--Seriously?” Rebecca’s mime twisted an invisible knife through her abdomen. “Mike--?” She called.

Amnon felt the world slipping away from him. Surely Morgan wouldn’t leave them. She couldn’t, not when it was Rebecca would suffer in the end. He could just leave if he wanted to. He even prepared to begin the tug to leave her body, but-- blackness ate away and so did he, falling into a darkness. Rebecca’s body hit the floor when the arm was yanked away. But she did not move. Stirring, after a moment, her head lifted. Eyes sullied and hollow and tired as she turned to look up at the scene unfolding before her.

“Morgan?” Rebecca muttered, staggering to her feet. She swayed, reaching out for something to grab onto. “Where-- “ she tried, but her voice felt lost, her vision still blurry. It clarified enough for her to look directly into her own eyes. Body freezing. What was going on? Was she dreaming again? Rebecca blinked, reached out-- she had to help her.

But one more blink, and dark eyes returned. Amnon groaned with his effort, still exhausted, still winded, ribs pounding with pain. Without thinking, he reached into Rebecca’s belt and pulled out her holy dagger. Staggered forward with a heavy step, limping, as he swung the dagger down, past Morgan’s arm, and into Rebecca’s heart. He’d pictured this moment for so many years, finally doing it, finally seeing it-- it didn’t bring him as much joy as he’d wanted. Black blood oozed over his hands and down to the floor, but he held the dagger there. With one heavy exhale, he turned to look at Morgan silently, as the clone melted into nothing in front of both of their eyes.

Morgan was frozen in place, staring horrified as Rebecca--real Rebecca, who was kind and knew things and could tell her how to exist here without hurting people or wanting to die again--surfaced for all of a second and vanished again. Was she coming back again? It had really been her, right? She’d used her name, and her face--she was worried, maybe tired, maybe scared, things Mike barely knew anything about feeling. “Shit,” she whispered. Then, quickly, “You couldn’t even pretend like it was hard. You’re a real psycho, you know that?” She turned away and stepped carefully over the goo her own double had left behind and stood over the mess. Her books were right there, unharmed except for a few pages, but she suddenly couldn’t find the energy to pick them up and carry them to the checkout desk. She kicked one over, wondering if the will would find itself if she gave it another second. Weirder things had happened; half a minute ago she’d seen Rebecca come back from the nowhere.

Amnon pulled the dagger back only once the clone had all but melted away into a puddle and puff of smoke. Wiped the blade on Rebecca’s pants, before acknowledging what Morgan had said. In his moments of darkness, he hadn’t known what had happened, but he could hazard a guess. “I do, actually,” he said back to her, walking over and thumbing through the pile of books and broken shelves for the one book he needed most. Picking it, he stuffed it under his arm, glaring down at Morgan. Sirens blared outside, employees already heading towards them, ready to offer help or start cleaning up. He wasn’t going to stick around for it, however. “Don’t think this changes anything,” he said to Morgan, before stepping specifically on one of the books she’d been holding as he passed her by.

Morgan flinched away from him, chilled by how quickly his moods shifted. And not even a fucking thank you. “Course not,” she grumbled bitterly. And then, as he left, “Sure thing, Professor Rothbard! I’ll tell them to charge you for the property damage, no worries!” Some student intern picking up books reached for one of the ones she’d picked up and held it out to her timidly. Morgan looked at the boy with confusion. What was he so afraid of? And then it sank in. How she must have looked, yelling like that, bashing evil mime-bones in, the works. “Thanks,” she mumbled, frowning, and shrank away. Maybe it really would have been worth deleting one more stupid reminder email.

[tisthenightofthewitch]

THE NEXT CHAPTER: TOBIAS FORGE AND THE FUTURE OF GHOST

Their Kerrang! Award-winning fourth album Prequelle took Ghost from cult concern to global superstars. But the arena-filling congregation of fans is growing restless for clues as to what’s next for Cardinal Copia, Papa Nihil and the ministry. Let Tobias Forge, then, take you behind the mask and into the making of – and future plans for – a band like no other…

The WaMu Theater, Thursday 19 September. Last night this venue – attached to the side of CenturyLink Field, the home of the Seattle Seahawks NFL team – played host to the ‘Groover from Vancouver’ himself, Bryan Adams. Tomorrow it’s the turn of the Pacific Northwest city’s beloved sons, grunge legends Alice In Chains, for their last show in support of their sixth album, Rainier Fog. Tonight, though, Seattle gets the latest ritual on Ghost’s extensive Ultimate Tour Named Death.

Despite this morbid moniker, the scene inside the building is one of lively activity, with techs rushing around to finish the show’s elaborate staging. The house lights illuminate the stained glass window backdrop, while the seating, flat on the floor and sweeping upwards towards the back, furthers the illusion we’re in a vast church. Just then, Tobias Forge, the man whose job it is to address tonight’s 5,000-strong congregation appears. Kerrang! doesn’t notice him at first given the ninja-like silence of his approach, but there’s an intensity to his presence in these make-or-break moments of preparation.

“I’m interested in tour production, so I get to know a lot of these things,” he offers matter-of-factly. “I’m sure I only get to know about 40 per cent of it, but I notice if things aren’t in place.”

As a nine-year-old child, Tobias used to watch the documentary 25x5: The Continuing Adventures Of The Rolling Stones on repeat. The film charts the rock legends’ genesis in 1962 and their steep, heady ascent to becoming the biggest band in the world, circa their 1989 album Steel Wheels. Tobias considers their subsequent Bridges To Babylon Tour (1997-1998), which made more than $274 million and became the second-highest grosser of all time, to be the greatest ever piece of rock staging, and he was evidently taking notes even then. As a result of the level of professionalism he aspires to, you get the distinct impression he’s not a man who suffers fools gladly in this setting – an idea he doesn’t go to great pains to dispel.

“I want to know who’s in the shit today,” he explains. “Who has been put in the situation where his or her job is compromised, because I don’t want to start yelling if it’s a case of, ‘Oh my truck didn’t arrive in time today,’ because then I’ll know what the problem is. If you want to be a good boss, it’s very important you keep things on your radar.

“I’ve definitely got into trouble over the years by being too nice to people and giving them too much slack,” he continues, surveying the operation. “When you do that it’s like with dogs: if you don’t tell them what the rules are, they start making up their own. That sounds horrible, but there are 40 people on this tour, so there has to be a line and a curriculum. I’m adamant about getting my vision through, especially now we’re in this transitional phase between theatres and arenas.”

This increase in scale reflects the continued upswing in Ghost’s popularity, which has seen them go from misunderstood cult band to metal superstar status in the space of less than a decade. Despite this success, Tobias clearly isn’t taking anything for granted. Ghost haven’t played Seattle for three years, but this time around they’re doing two shows in Washington State, the other being the one they played at the Toyota Center in Kennewick two days ago, which has a capacity of 6,000 – almost eight per cent of the city’s 80,000 population.

Tobias may or may not be referring to that show when he discusses his unbridled joy at recently playing in an unnamed city that doesn’t get a lot of large-scale entertainment coming through town, save for appearances from KISS, singer-songwriter Pat Benatar and a touring production of the musical Wicked in recent years.

“None of us had ever heard of this place, and I’m pretty good at geography,” he explains. “But I loved being the singular moment somewhere, instead of the seventh show they’d had there on that particular week.”

And while Tobias describes the resulting night as “phenomenal”, earlier in the day there was an “unforeseen curveball” when the company who were meant to be selling merch at the show pulled out at the last minute, citing Ghost’s satanic image for their decision. This was, of course, a throwback to earlier shows, such as one in the Texan city of Odessa in 2018, when a minister attempted to dissuade people from attending because of the band’s threat to the morals of good God-fearing people. Unsurprisingly, this outburst resulted in an increase in ticket sales.

Despite this more recent – and, these days, more unusual – blip, Tobias’ desire to cover as much ground as possible on tour this time around is inspired by his heroes in Iron Maiden and Metallica, who have long provided him with the blueprints for achieving and navigating monumental success. In this case, the lesson he’s putting into practice is that every location Ghost visit, without exception, should be treated the same.

“The most important thing to me on this tour is that we bring the same production to everyone,” he says. “They all get the full-fucking-monty, whether they’re in Sioux Falls [South Dakota] or New York.”

The walls backstage at the WaMu Theater are lined with Seahawks jerseys, personalised with the names of acts that have performed here, including The 1975, Bastille and Nas, and the rockier contingent featuring twenty one pilots, Halestorm and Dropkick Murphys. Various rooms lead off from these labyrinthine corridors, providing sizeable production offices for the band’s tour management and crew, all of who wear dapper black shirts, trousers and braces affixed with silver broaches of Ghost’s upside down cross insignia. They affectionately address Cardinal Copia as ‘Cardi C’ when he appears later for a fan meet-and-greet. Here, too, are the dressing rooms for the headliners and the opening act for this tour, San Antonio rockers Nothing More.

On all of the doors is a distinct A4 page, the day sheet for this show, which not only details what’s happening, where and when, but also includes a different tongue-in-cheek quote for the occasion. Today, for example, in recognition of the touring party travelling overnight to Vancouver for tomorrow’s show at the city’s Pacific Coliseum, we get this gem courtesy of Britney Spears: ‘The cool thing about being famous is travelling. I have always wanted to travel across seas, like to Canada and stuff.’

Tobias, of course, has actually travelled over oceans to be here. Nowadays he lives in Stockholm, the capital of his native Sweden, with his wife and their 11-year-old twins, but he was born in Linköping, the country’s seventh largest city, where the steeple of its 13th century cathedral dominated the skyline. That’s not what the young Tobias was fixating on, though. Instead, aged five, when he already knew he wanted to transform into another person, he’d stand outside his childhood home and gaze down the street. The sun always seemed to be hovering between the buildings at the end, like a fixed but intangible hand beckoning him to get on a plane and go somewhere else and be someone else.

“The days and options seemed limitless,” he recalls today. “For some reason I always thought of the world as being there for the taking, even though I didn’t have any access to that world.”

In spite of this, he felt a deep affinity with his heroes, like the Rolling Stones and Queen, who also came from places you didn’t automatically associate with being breeding grounds for rock gods.

“I felt similar to them, even if they grew up in Dartford [Rolling Stones] or an island off the coast of Africa [Zanzibar, the birthplace of Freddie Mercury]. I, too, felt out of touch with my surroundings, and knew I had a higher calling.”

Twenty-three years later, in 2009, Tobias realised he hadn’t made much headway in heeding this call. He’d been in bands from a young age, from death metallers Repugnant to alt-rockers Magna Carta Cartel. The latter featured Martin Persner and Simon Söderberg, who’d later appear as Nameless Ghouls in the first incarnation of Ghost. Söderberg, along with some other ex-ghouls, is now embroiled in an on-going lawsuit with Tobias over what they suggest are the rightful shares of profits they’re owed from their time in the band. Tobias doesn’t volunteer any information on this topic today, which is perhaps understandable given the considerable column inches already dedicated to it.

Regardless, none of those early bands provided Tobias with the success he needed to, say, quit the day job. He had then been working in a call centre, aiding people having trouble with their mobile phones. Despite spending his childhood endlessly sketching elaborate stage designs and lighting rigs, he still has little interest in technology, particularly mobile phones. Back in 2009 his personal life was happy and satisfying, having welcomed children with his then-girlfriend – now wife – though this potent reminder of the finite time we have drew his attention to the area of his life he recognised as falling short.

“I had an epiphany,” he explains, raising his hands as if sizing up an imaginary canvas. “I found myself very far from the path, so decided in the limited time I have to invest everything in the one thing out of all my [professional] options I believed most in, which was Ghost. I understood wholeheartedly what it was, the music and the image, and felt I could do it without my vanity coming in, because I didn’t like how I looked in pictures or the sound of my own voice. But this would be fiction, so that was fucking cool. So I took all of my eggs and put them in one basket and was back on track. For the first time in my fucking life I was really focused.”

For evidence of the dividends this paid, you need only look at the fact that just a year later, with the release of their 2010 debut album Opus Eponymous, Ghost exploded on to the scene, taking the first step to becoming metal’s hottest new hope.

Further proof of this focus comes today from interviewing Tobias somewhere there’s a screen showing news channel CNN. We’re in the band’s pre-show warm-up space, which is decked out with guitars, keyboards and an electric drum kit he removes the stool from to sit in the centre of the room. He admits if he were in a hotel room now, he could easily watch CNN for 24 hours straight. He doesn’t so much as turn his head to look at it now, though, giving his full attention to the interview at hand.

Even at 38, an age he says his kids consider “as old as shit”, he remains remarkably boyish looking. His dark and piercing eyes, however, belong to an older soul – and it may be Kerrang!’s imagination – but they appear to moisten at several points during this hour-long chat, particularly when connecting the dots between his past ambition and what he’s achieved today.

“I’m trying to recreate a lot of things that aren’t necessarily real,” he says mysteriously. “In my head they’re real, and I’ve been given this fantastic carte blanche where I don’t have to sit in a fucking call centre anymore and am applauded for getting to be someone else. It’s perfect for someone like me who has a fundamental problem with functioning normally in society. If it wasn’t for the fact I was doing this, I would be completely useless.”

When Ghost signed with their American record label, their mythology wasn’t the deep well of fascination it is today. In fact, there was nothing to it at all. They had a unique aesthetic and a sound that didn’t necessarily go with that look, something that would wrong-foot new listeners in the early days, but Tobias didn’t have an answer to why Ghost were the way they were.

“They said the music was great but asked, ‘What’s the story? What’s the biography?’” recalls Tobias. “I said there was no biography because there was no story to tell. I wanted people to throw themselves into the vision and make up their own. But in the end I had to come up with one, which is second nature to me now. Even [Norwegian black metallers] Mayhem had a story. In the early ‘90s, before the internet, there was something that compelled us to want to find out more and listen to their music.”

This mythology Tobias has developed over the years was furthered with the release of Ghost’s fourth album, last year’s GRAMMY-nominated Prequelle, which introduced Tobias’ latest incarnation, Cardinal Copia, a character fans have come to love if the number of $40 plush toys sold at the merch desk tonight is any indication. More recently, a web series on YouTube has added to the intrigue, with the latest episode harking back to 1969, when a young Cardinal Nihil was fronting Ghost at the launch of their EP, Seven Inches Of Satanic Panic. That just so happens to be the band’s latest release in 2019, which will also be available as part of Prequelle Exalted, a limited collector’s edition of the album. Meanwhile, The Ultimate Tour Named Death has introduced the EP’s two new songs, Mary On A Cross and Kiss The Go-Goat, to its set list.

While Ghost’s music has always tipped its papal tiara to the ‘60s, particularly its psychedelic leanings, the latter song in particular sees them take this interest a step further. How much can we glean from them, then, with regards to where Ghost goes next? Not too much, as it turns out, according to Tobias, who suggests, as with the YouTube series, it’s a way to deepen the story of Ghost spanning from the ’40s to the present day, without necessarily providing clues to the sound of album number five.

“It’s just there for shits and giggles,” he laughs, before revealing that Kiss The Go-Goat, a song that’s been knocking around for some time, actually had the working title ‘The Throwback Single’. “I grew up listening to ‘60s music like the Rolling Stones and The Doors, as well as metal. People shouldn’t read too much into this direction, though. The next album is going to be something completely different from that.”

Can Tobias perhaps give two words to describe where, musically or thematically, album number five is heading?

“I’d choose the words ‘fifth’ and ‘album’,” he replies with a wry smile, before justifying what seems like a diversionary tactic. “I look at many fifth albums as a guide as to the urgency for what that record will need to be, with [Iron Maiden’s] Powerslave being a great example. By the fifth album you’re at a point in your career where you have this momentum built up, and you have the expectancy of people depending on you, so you have to put something special in those many spotlights. You need to step up and make a record that’s worth it and justifies all of these things.”

Who, then, can we expect to see fronting these rituals in future?

“I just know that person will have the name Papa Emeritus IV. It will be the fourth Papa Emeritus. But who that is, we don’t know yet.”

We’re not sure we believe him, so push for more. Might we see Cardinal Copia graduating to Papa status? The latest episode of the web series seems to indicate the ‘Sister Imperator’ character and Papa Nihil conceived a child. Wouldn’t that make him part of the papal bloodline?

“I think that what you will get over the next year are a lot of answers to a lot of questions,” offers Tobias, keeping things vague.

Like the question of whether Sister is pregnant? (In the latest ‘chapter’ of the web series, Sister attacks a woman at a Ghost show for smoking next to her).

“We don’t know that yet. It would blow my mind if she was now,” he says, clearly referring to the elderly Sister in the present day. This suggests she could well be with child back in 1969, though.

Has Tobias sketched what this new Papa will look like?

“Have you ever seen The Big Lebowski?” he asks by way of an answer, referencing the scene in the Coen brothers’ classic where Jeff Bridges’ character, The Dude, spots someone drawing on a notepad. When the man leaves the room with the piece of paper, The Dude rushes to scribble on to the page below to reveal the outline of what’s been drawn, only to discover it’s a doodle of a cock and balls. “It’s something along those lines.”

Sensing Tobias is in full evasion mode by this point, we change tack. Perhaps understanding his ambitions, and whether there’s a summit to them, can shed some light on the future – especially as he seems more focused on what Ghost’s next album will do rather than what it will sound like.

“I wouldn’t necessarily compare [my ambitions] to what the Rolling Stones have done, because that was a completely different time under completely different circumstances. For the last 40 years they have sold tickets because of nostalgic reasons, and maybe 40 years in the future there would be a nostalgia element for Ghost, but I can’t count on that.”

“I regard Metallica as colleagues and friends now, but they’re still Metallica,” he says of the thrash legends Ghost supported on their European stadium tour this summer. “I am an ambassador and they are presidents. But when I look to Metallica for influence, I’m looking at what they did in 1988. We’re on our fourth album, as they were on the Damaged Justice Tour, so the next stop is the Black Album.”

Spotting Kerrang!’s obvious joy at this admission, Tobias is quick to clarify exactly what he means by this.

“You have to make a responsible record,” he adds emphatically. “That doesn’t mean to expect riffs. It’s two different things – what the record sounds like and knowing to put yourself in the right spot at the right time. When I had nothing, and lived in a small apartment that cost very little because the ceiling leaked, the dream was to be able to live off making music. When I had kids that became even more important. Now it’s about something else. I’m responsible for showing my wife and my kids that all these years of waiting for me have been worth it. And that goes beyond money, because at the end of the day that’s just seasoning. One day my kids will be grown-up and I have to be able to show them that all this time playing rock shows had a real purpose.”

Of course, it doesn’t hurt that Tobias loves touring.

“I’m like a sailor,” he says. “I just love being on the ocean. I’ve not always been on tour, but I’ve always been a transient person. And the road to achieving all this is endless, just like the road I looked down when I was five seemed to me at the time.”

Kerrang

[omgjasminesimone]

Homecoming Part 2

Bryce x MC

Previous Part: Part 1

Next Part: Part 3

Rating: Light NSFW

Summary: Bryce and Casey start their Hawaiian vacation by meeting the Lahelas for brunch. Things go as badly as Bryce expected.

Author’s Note: My head cannon is that Bryce’s father rejects his own Hawaiian culture due to self-hatred issues. This was alluded to in Tattoo. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future parts!

Word Count: 3700

Bryce awakens slowly as soft hands caress his bare chest, full lips pressing against his neck, and then his lips. He responds automatically, even though he’s half asleep, his hand rising from the sheets to tangle in her dark curls as he kisses her back.

She straddles his waist without breaking the kiss, her hands tangling in his hair. One of her hands trails down his chest, over his abs, lower.

She reaches inside his low riding pajama pants and grips him in her hand. He groans as he hardens. Casey chuckles. “Good morning to you too.”

Bryce’s eyes open, looking up at her with a grin. “What did I do to deserve this kind of wake-up call?”

Casey grins back at him. “You forgot to close the curtains last night. And the light was hitting you just right. You looked like-“

Bryce interrupts. “A Greek God?”

Casey rolls her eyes at his vanity, releasing his manhood. “You looked good. Really good.” She leans down and kisses him again.

His hands squeeze her rear end through her boy shorts. “What time is it baby?”

Casey pulls away to look at the clock. “5:30 in the morning.”

“You couldn’t have waited a few hours to jump me?” He jokes, pushing on the small of her back so she’ll let her hips fall against him.

“It’s 11:30 in the morning Boston time. And we went to bed Boston time, so it’s definitely time to get up.” After arriving at the hotel from the airport, they had eaten at the hotel restaurant, showered, and then fallen asleep almost immediately upon their heads hitting the luxurious down pillows.

“Well, even though it’s ungodly early Hawaii time, I can think of a few ways to pass the hours before we leave for the day.” He tugs her shorts off.  

Two orgasms later they shower, separately because Bryce can never keep his hands to himself, before heading off to enjoy the resort pool. It’s still early, so they have the whole pool to themselves. Casey sits near the pool’s edge with a book she’s been reading for the last year. She’s still only halfway done. Reading for pleasure is a rare treat now a days, although she has read countless medical textbooks and journals over the last year. Her feet dangle in the cool clear water.    

Bryce surfaces at her feet after swimming several laps at an athlete’s pace, tossing his hair to dry it somewhat. “Are you really not getting in?”

“Maybe later.” She says flippantly, not bothering to look up from her book.

Bryce takes her feet in his hands, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb over the shooting star tattoo on her ankle. He waits a few seconds. “It’s later now.” He tugs her feet, and she barely has time to drop her book onto the dry pool edge before she’s under the water.

She comes up sputtering, glaring at her boyfriend.

He chuckles,  releasing her feet and gripping the back of her thighs, pulling her to him and encouraging her to wrap her legs around him. “You look so good in that swimsuit.” She glances down at her dark green bikini. It is a good color on her. He kisses her, pressing her back against the wall of the infinity pool.

She bites his bottom lip roughly, following up by splashing him. He rubs the chlorine out of his eyes, releasing her in the process. “Hey!” He complains.

She splashes him again, lazily treading water. “That’s for pulling me in. You almost made me get the book I borrowed from Sienna wet.”

“I’m sorry. Can we kiss and make up now?”    

Casey rolls her eyes, but indulges him anyway, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and kissing him deeply. They’re so absorbed in each other, they barely notice the rest of the hotel waking up and joining them at the pool.

“Cannon ball!” A red headed child yells, effectively breaking them from their spell when they’re drenched in water.

Casey runs a hand through her damp curls, and then lightly runs her thumb over his kiss swollen lips. “You couldn’t find an adults only resort?” She jokes.

Bryce smiles, kissing her thumb before speaking. “There are a few, but they were so much more expensive.”

“Does this place at least have complimentary breakfast?”

“It does, but my sister invited us to family brunch. Can you wait, or do you want to grab something before we head out?”

“I’ll wait. But let’s go back to the room so I can get ready. I want to make a good first impression.”

Bryce tightens his grip on her, hugging her to him. “It doesn’t matter what they think about you. I know exactly who you are, and I like everything about you Dr. Valentine.”

“I like you a lot too Dr. Lahela. But be that as it may, I’m still going to put some effort in.”

…

..

.

Bryce glances at Casey from the driver’s seat of their rented car as she finishes twisting her dark curls into a delicate updo, a few tendrils framing her face. His eyes scan over her outfit. She’s put on a pretty red and purple floral strapless dress, completing the look with white wedges. She’s even wearing some light make-up. He’s not used to seeing her with makeup. When you have to be at the hospital at 5:30 in the morning, the extra few minutes of sleep is much more important than some lipstick and eyeliner. He thinks he likes her natural look better, but she didn’t ask so he keeps his opinion to himself.

He has put no such effort into his own appearance. Simply sporting a white button down, comfortable beige capris, and sneakers.

He allows one of his hands to leave the wheel, intertwining their fingers so she’ll stop nervously drumming on her thighs. “You have nothing to be nervous about baby.”

“I just want them to like me.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She wishes he would say, “Don’t worry, they’ll love you.” But he doesn’t. Just keeps insisting that it makes no difference.

“You haven’t told me anyone’s names.” Casey realizes.

Bryce takes the freeway exit, nearing their destination. “My father’s name is Aoloa. My mother’s name is Kate. My brother’s name is Francis. And my sister is Abigail. But I call her Abs. Francis’ wife will probably be there too. Her name is Gabrielle. And my nephew, Haku.”    

Casey nods, retaining the new information. “And how old are your siblings?”

Bryce merges into the left lane, taking the next turn. “Francis is 5 years older than me. So he’s 32…no wait he’s 33 his birthday was last month. Abs is almost three years younger than me. She’s 24, turning 25 next month.”

“And your nephew?”

“Haku is 8.”

Casey does the mental math in her head, realizing Abigail must have had him while still in high school.

Bryce sighs as he turns onto a residential street. “We’re here.”

Casey’s jaw drops as she takes in the monumental mansion they’re approaching. Bryce stops at a large ostentatious gold gate, opening his window and typing a passcode into the security system. The gate opens, swinging inward.

Bryce stops in the round driveway, full of cars much more expensive than the one they have rented. He looks at her nervously. “Say something.” He begs.

“Your parents are a lot more than comfortable Bryce.”  

“It doesn’t matter.” He repeats, once again. “I don’t like to tell people because I feel like they assume I’m just some spoiled rich kid who never had to work for anything. And that’s just not how it is Casey. Sure, my dad paid for private school and summer immersion programs in Europe, but none of that was for me. It was for him.”

“Was the down payment really a loan? It looks like it wouldn’t set them back at all to just give it to you.”

“It wouldn’t, but they didn’t. It was definitely a loan.” He takes a moment to compose himself. “Are you ready?” He asks.

“Are you?”

He smiles, squeezing her hand. “No, but I’ll never be ready.” He takes a deep breath before getting out of the car.

They walk hand and hand to the door. She hears him give another dramatic sigh before ringing the doorbell.

The door opens, a tiny native Hawaiian woman with dark brown skin standing in front of them. Her face lights up as she spots Bryce. “Bryce!” She exclaims as she hugs his waist tightly, since that’s where she can reach on the much taller man.

Based on everything Casey knows about his family, she thinks this woman can’t be his mother.

“Kehlani, I missed you.” Bryce says softly, hugging her back.

“Then you should have come home! I haven’t seen you since Haku’s first birthday!”

“You know it’s hard to get back here from the mainland. But the mainland has been good to me in many ways. The most important one right here. Kehlani, this is Dr. Casey Valentine, my girlfriend. Casey, Kehlani, she basically raised me.”

Kehlani smiles. “Don’t let your mother hear you say that. I’m just the lowly maid now, with Haku moving out soon and no need for a nanny.” Kehlani turns to Casey. “She’s so beautiful Bryce! And a doctor too? How’d you get so lucky?”

Bryce wraps an arm around Casey, pulling her to his side. “Hey, she’s lucky too. I’m quite a catch.”

Casey smiles at Kehlani, offering her hand for a handshake. “Nice to meet you Kehlani.”

Kehlani ignores the offered hand, pulling Casey into a hug. “Nice to meet you too Casey!” She releases the doctor, locking the door behind them. “Everyone is in the dining room. Do you remember your way around here?” She asks.

Bryce shrugs. “I’ll manage.”

Kehlani heads back to the kitchen and Bryce tugs Casey towards an ornate hallway. She distractedly looks around the foyer, at the large chandelier, the obviously expensive art lining the walls, a large family portrait hanging over the double staircase. She picks out Bryce in the portrait right away. He’s wearing a suit, hair slicked back in an unfamiliar style, lips tight and unsmiling. He can’t be older than 12. A hand rests on his shoulder, behind him his mother staring at the camera with a small disingenuous smile.  

Casey is surprised that his mother is white. He never mentioned that to her. Her blonde hair and blue eyes stand out amongst her varying shades of bronze skinned children and her husband, whose complexion reminds her of Jackie.

She loses sight of the portrait as they make it into the hallway, taking a sudden right and entering the dining room.

“Uncle Bryce!” Haku drops the toy car he was playing with, running into his uncle’s arms. Haku’s loud declaration draws the attention of everyone else in the room to their arrival.

Bryce smiles, the most genuine smile she’s seen out of him all day, rustling Haku’s dark hair. “When did you get so big young man?”

Haku grins, revealing missing front teeth. “I’m the 3rd tallest in my class!” He brags.

Abigail approaches next, throwing her arms around Bryce in a warm hug. “I’m so glad you’re home.” She breathes in his ear.

“Like I’d miss you wedding Abs. Even if you are marrying a douchebag.”

Abigail’s eyes narrow. “Bryce.” She warns.

“Sorry. I’ll try to keep my thoughts to myself.” He seems to suddenly remember that Casey is there. “Abs, Haku, this is my girlfriend Dr. Casey Valentine.”

Haku waves at her and Abigail gives her a handshake. “Nice to meet you Casey. Last time I skyped with Bryce when he wanted to give me a Boston house tour, he couldn’t shut up about you.” Abigail is very pretty. Bryce’s brown eyes, complexion a mocha color a little lighter than his, and her hair a deeper brown that flows down to her waist.

Francis approaches. All the Lahelas are so pretty. He looks a lot like Bryce, but hair cut shorter and slicked back. His face is more severe, with stronger cheekbones and a more pronounced nose. “Well, I haven’t had the pleasure of hearing about you Dr. Valentine. Nice to meet you.” He kisses her hand, and she can’t help but blush a little.

Bryce glowers behind her. “Francis.” He greets coldly.

Francis nods. “Bryce.” He returns with the same indifference.

Bryce’s eyes fall on his sister-in-law, who’s gotten up to stand beside her husband. “Gabby.” This greeting is warmer, polite.

Gabrielle smiles. “Good to see you Bryce. And nice to meet you Casey.” Gabrielle looks a lot like Bryce’s mom when she was younger. Blonde hair, blue eyes, that ‘all American’ girl next door look.  She’s more voluptuous than Kate was in her day though. And Gabrielle seems to be flaunting this in her too tight red dress. She seems to be at least ten years younger than her husband.  

Bryce’s father is the next to leave his seat and approach the newcomers. He shakes Bryce’s hand, which Casey thinks is a strange way to greet one’s own son. His hair has greyed since the portrait was taken, and he’s gained some weight, but he’s still a very attractive older man.

“Casey, this is my Dad, Aoloa.” Bryce introduces, releasing his father’s hand and placing his hand on the small of her back.

“Everyone calls me Al.” He corrects, shaking Casey’s hand. He squeezes just a little too tight.

Bryce’s mother doesn’t stand, continuing to enjoy her mimosa at the table. “Come say hi to me dearest.” She slurs her words slightly, and Casey tries to pretend not to notice.

“Mom.” Bryce greets shortly, not moving from his current position.

Casey walks over, Bryce’s hand falling from her back. “Nice to meet you Mrs. Lahela.” She offers a handshake.

“Kate is fine.” She claims as she reaches for Casey’s hand, missing at first, her blue eyes looking glassy. Casey moves her hand to grip Kate’s, shaking softly. Casey can see some grey at Kate’s roots, but the rest of her hair is dyed the same platinum blonde from the portrait. Unlike her husband, and despite all the drinking, she has managed to maintain her figure. Appearances seem to be very important to the Lahelas. Although this is just a family brunch, they are all dressed in expensive labels that Casey recognizes from goofing around in Nordstrom’s with her roommates, trying to find the most overpriced items.

Bryce pulls out a chair beside his sister. “Honey, have a seat.”

She raises an eyebrow, he’s never called her honey before. It’s always babe or baby (lover sometimes when he’s trying to annoy her since he knows she hates that word). It’s like he’s putting on a show for some reason. She takes the offered chair, allowing Bryce to push it in.

He takes a seat between her and his mother, allowing Kate to place a sloppy kiss on his cheek. Her deep red lipstick that seems inappropriate for family brunch stains his cheek.

The rest of the Lahelas return to their seats just as Kehlani and another maid enter the room with the first course.

A decadent parfait is placed in front of Casey, an expensive golden spoon as well. Casey worries that maybe the spoon is for decorative purposes, and waits until she sees Aoloa use the spoon from across the table before she dares to.

“So where’s your future husband Abs?” Bryce asks, breaking the silence that has descended around the table.

“Ryan had to work. Some important business deal.” Abigail replies, waving her hand dismissively.

“Dad says Ryan is a workaholic. And that a real man spends time with his family.” Haku interrupts, messily eating his own parfait, using his fingers instead of the spoon.

“Hank.” Al says sharply, glaring at his grandson. “No one wants to hear what your no-good father has to say about any of this.”

“Dad.” Abigail’s tone is icy and her eyes have narrowed. “Don’t talk about Kahoni like that in front of his son.”

Bryce eye’s narrow as well. “Hank?” He repeats.

“Yes, Haku has decided to go by Hank now. It’s more American, more respectable.” Al reports.

“What’s unrespectable about a traditional Hawaiian name?” Bryce challenges.

“Bryce.” Francis warns, glaring at him from across the table.

“Haku, honey, do you want to eat in the living room where you can watch TV?” Abigail offers to get her son out of the room. Haku nods gleefully, scrapping his chair across the floor loudly before running out.

Casey watches Haku leave, feeling like he is the safest thing to look at in the tense room.    

“So Casey Valentine,” Al starts, changing the topic. “Valentine is English, or Scottish, but you look……exotic. What are you exactly?”

Casey winces at ‘exotic’. Surprisingly, she’s been asked this rude question before. Usually, she just answers ‘human’ and leaves, but she’s less inclined to be rude to her boyfriend’s father, even if he’s being rude to her.

Bryce looks like he’s about to say something, so she places a hand on his knee and squeezes in a manner she hopes is reassuring.

“Valentine is Scottish. My father’s grandfather immigrated to the Dominican Republic from Scotland. So my dad is Dominican, mostly. And my mom is African American and Mexican. So I’m a little bit of everything.” She answers.

“So if you guys have kids, they’ll really be mutts, huh?” Al asks with a smile.

Casey’s eyes narrow. Sometimes, she does refer to herself as a mutt when she’s talking about her genealogy, but she says it in an endearing way. The way Al said it was lacking any of that warmth.

“We don’t all share your obsession with whitening the Lahela bloodline Dad.” Bryce says sharply.

“Bryce.” His mother warns this time, pausing for the first time in her consumption of the champagne and orange juice.

“What?” Bryce insists. “We all know it’s true. That’s why he spent so much time poisoning Abby’s relationship with Kahoni.”

Al snorts angrily. “Kahoni is a no-good Hula performer with no prospects who knocked up my sixteen year old daughter. Abigail finally came to her senses when she left him.”    

“And now she just happens to be marrying the son of an important business prospect, who just happens to have blue eyes and blonde hair. I’m sure you had nothing to do with that.” Bryce retorts.

Al’s eyes narrow at his middle child. “I’m not sure I like where you’re going with this.”

Kehlani returns just then with the second course, waffles with fresh fruit. She pauses as she takes in the tension in the room. “Do you guys need anything?”

“More champagne would be great.” Kate slurs.

“Oh my god Mom it’s not even noon.” Bryce exclaims, standing from the table. “I need a minute.” He mutters before storming out of the room.

Casey stays and eats her waffles in silence, all the Lahelas attempts at small talk with each other quickly sputtering out. Bryce doesn’t return.

“I’m going to go check on him.” She finally decides after 15 minutes have passed. “Does anyone know where he might have gone?”

“Probably his room, go back out to the staircase, take the right one, and then it’s the second door to your left.” Abigail reveals.

Casey nods, thanking her as she stands.

“Casey.” Al interrupts before she leaves. “I wasn’t trying to offend you, and I’m sorry if I did. You’re very beautiful, and clearly smart too if you’re a doctor. I guess I was just surprised. Back in high school, Bryce used to bring home girls that looked just like his mother. Maybe his standards have changed out on the mainland.”

Casey nods tightly, that spiel doing nothing to endear Bryce’s father more to her. She follows Abigail’s instructions and knocks on Bryce’s door. “Bryce?” She calls out softly.

“It’s open.” She hears.

She walks into his childhood room. It’s sparsely decorated. Some sports equipment in the corner, photos of him and friends on his desk. And face down in his pillow on his queen size bed lies Bryce.

“You don’t lock your door after you storm off dramatically?” Casey asks.

He rolls over onto his back, meeting her gaze. “I knew you were the only one who would come after me.”

She joins him in bed, cuddling into his side. He drops a kiss on her forehead. “I’m sorry about them.” He apologizes.

“You don’t have to apologize for your family.” Casey insists.

He shakes his head. “I do though. Because they bring out the worst in me. I shouldn’t have just left you down there. I shouldn’t have let them push my buttons like that. I don’t want to mess us up over them.”

“I wouldn’t let you mess us up. Not when my roommates have already replaced me for when our lease is up so I have to move in with you.” Casey jokes.

Bryce chuckles. “I’m serious though baby. You’re the best thing in my life.” He tilts her chin up to look at him. “And I love you.”

Casey’s eyes widen. He’s never said that before. His eyes scan her’s frantically as she remains silent.

He runs a hand through his hair nervously. “You don’t have to say it back right now. We’ll get there when we get there…”

She interrupts him with a tender kiss. “We’re there. I love you too Bryce.”

He grins, looking happier than she’s ever seen him. His lips claim her’s, and it quickly becomes heated. She rolls on top of him, straddling his hips.

“How many girls did you sneak up here in high school?” she questions as he rubs her thighs.

“None anywhere near as beautiful as you.” He answers immediately.

She smiles, “Good answer.” He tries to kiss her again, but she stands. “Let’s get back down there. I could smell some amazing dessert and I don’t want to miss it.”

Bryce sighs. “Do we have to?”

Casey nods. “But afterwards, we can go back to the hotel and then you don’t have to see them again until the wedding.”

Bryce scoffs. “As if I could be so lucky. There are countless wedding events that I’m required to be at. With those people.”  

…

..

.

Taglist: @octobereighth @sibella-plays-choices @hazah @akrenich @lovehugsandcandy @professorortegasstudent @regina-and-happiness @brightpinkpeppercorn @choicesarehard @lizeboredom  @desiree-0816 @hellooliviaolivia @dreaming-of-movies @friedherringclodthing @weaving-in-words @fairydustandsarcasm

[canid-slashclaw]

Pocket Raptor Surprise

The heat from the midday sun beat down relentlessly upon the parched soil of the Dry Step Mesas. Off in the distance, massive vines snaked their way up from a ravine that looked as if the surface of Tyria itself had cracked open releasing some ancient and malevolent force. For a certain pair of intrepid (and over fashionably-dressed) bounty hunters, such trivial things were the least of their concern.

Amalthia tilted her head back as she raised a metal canteen to her gaping maw then shook the container a few times before giving her human husband an apprehensive gaze.

“Kal?”

“Yeah, babe?” Kaleb replied as he noticed a decidedly scolding look on her face.

“Did you, like, happen to forget to bring some extra water rations after knowing full-well that we’d be trouncing around in a godsforsaken freakin’ desert?!”

“Um, no,” he said with a shrug. “Besides, wasn’t that your responsibility? You know-- taking care of provisions and all?” He, then, gestured to her with a pistol finger and wink.

His action only enabled his wife in unleashing both her inner, as well as outer, charr. “My responsibility? Are you freaking kidding me!? You damn know good and well that it is my job to maintain all the weaponry and your job to handle the other logistics… like keeping us fed and hydrated. After all, you are the chef de partie of our little outfit, right?”

“Woah, woah. Stop right there, miss pissykitty! Just ‘cause you have fangs, horns and a furry tail doesn’t automatically make you the only master-at-arms here. We’re a team, remember? It’s both our jobs to watch each others’ backs.” He stepped closer towards her offering his hand.

She looked away, bowed her head, sighed for a moment before looking back into his eyes then letting out a subdued growl. “Gah! You’ve got a point. Sorry, love. It’s just this heat is really putting me in a pissy mood.”

He gently clasped hold of her paw then gave her a kiss on her lower right ear. “I’m sorry too, babe. For being an idiot and all. Yeah. The forgetting the water thing? That’s totally on me.” Amalthia leaned her head into his, gave him a gentle nuzzle under his chin then licked him on the face. “Why yes it is. But I suppose I can find it in my heart to forgive you... this time. But piss me off again and you’ll find yourself greasing your own piston for at least the next six months.”

“Well that’s comforting to know. At least we can cling to each other until we succumb to dehydration and someone eventually finds our mummified remains lovingly wrapped in each others’ deathly embrace,” Kaleb said with a smile as he began to massage the back of her thickly muscled neck.

She looked lovingly into his brown eyes as a fangy smile flashed across her face. “Mister Grimwald – you have got to be the most wonderful bundle of human weirdness that I’ve ever come across. Okay… I think the heat is really getting to me now.”

“Why’d you say that?” Kaleb looked at her puzzled.

Her ears began to twitch. “Don’t you hear it? Oh wait… your hearing isn’t as sensitive as mine.”

“No. I do hear it. Oh wait… look!” He swung his head around suddenly then pointed towards what appeared to be a chicken-sized velociraptor. She turned and saw it as well.

“Hey little guy.” Kaleb reached into his coat pocket then pulled out a roll of dried meat as he began waving it at the small creature. The raptor cautiously backed away from him while making a high-pitched chirping noise. “I’ve got some jerky. Wanna try?”

Amalthia shook her head. “Um. I don’t think that’s a good idea, Kal.”

“Aww. C’mon, Ama. How bad can a little fella like this be?” Kaleb said as he pointed towards what appeared to be the creature’s nest. “Hey look. Eggs. If we take one each to nourish ourselves and save the rest, then maybe we can hatch them. Katie always wanted an unusual pet.”

His charr wife let out a more forceful growl this time. “No! We are not hatching anything that comes from this awful place. Remember why we came here -- for the bounties, right?”

Her husband huffed. “For the bounties. I got it. But, dammit Ama, we could raise a clutch of these and sell ‘em in Lion’s Arch for a fair amount of coin. I mean what kid wouldn’t want one of these for a pet?”

Shaking her head, Amalthia promptly reached into her husband’s rucksack then pulled out a field guide titled, Tyria’s Field Guide to Native Flora and Fauna Vol. IX. Using her long clawed index finger, she quickly thumbed through the pages until found what she was looking for.

“Let’s see. Raptors… raptors… Big, mean teethy, poison clawed… Oh. Here it is!” She looked up only to find that her husband had suddenly darted off towards one of the nests. As she watched him snatch up the eggs then put them into his rucksack, she began to read aloud what was in the guide. “Pauxillum fiken talus admorsus – or more commonly known as the Pocket Raptor, is a diminutive subspecies of the common featherbeak raptor and is almost exclusively found in the Heart of the Magumma Jungle and is… oh for Scorchgazer’s sake... are you even paying attention to me, Kal!?”

Her husband gave her a thumbs up even though he was still engrossed in gathering up more eggs from the nest.

“It says pocket raptors are vicious creatures that will bite your face off if half given the chance. So you’d better put those eggs back now before mamma comes back.” She angrily snapped the book closed then shoved it down into her pants pocket.

The mesa suddenly became alive with dozens of high-pitched chirping noises. As Kaleb stowed away the last of the eggs, he was immediately greeted by three more of the tiny raptors. Each of them tilted their heads trying to get him into their field of vision as they began moving towards him at an alarmingly brisk pace.

“Back away from them, Kal. Now!” Amalthia yelled just seconds before the trio lunged at her husband.

With reflexes rivaling those of a cat, Kaleb dodged the assault as the three little beasts leaped just inches above his face. Whirling around as fast as he could he pulled forth his revolvers, Sweet Pea and Lulu, then leveled the barrels at his attackers making sure that his wife was not in the line of fire. The bore of each pistol erupted in a plume of red-hot gas as two of the critters exploded into grizzly globs of flesh and guts; the demise of the third followed a split second later.

Amalthia drew a holosmithing sword from her waistband as her entire body became aglow in a brightly lit shroud of charged energy. Scores more of the creatures appeared from practically every nearby nook and cranny as they began swarming the couple from all angles. A series of deft swishes from her alighted blade reduced several of the vicious attackers to piles of dust as more of the ravenous critters quickly emerged to take the place of their fallen littermates.

“We’ve got to get the hell out of here!” His wife said as her energy shroud began to take on a faint red glow. “Either this asuratech, or my temper is gonna blow at any moment. And when it does, I promise it isn’t going to be pretty.”

Kaleb holstered his pistols then drew forth the greatsword that he had slung on his back. “Bob – time for some action!”

With a series of lightning fast strokes, Kaleb and ‘Bob’ managed to cleave dozens of the little beasts in two as he re-positioned himself in a back-to-back stance with his wife. Moving with an unspoken synchronicity, the husband and wife bounty hunter team hacked and slashed their way through the onslaught until they reached the relative safety of a nearby natural bridge.

Amalthia pointed towards a bluff in the distance. “Hey, look. A downed airship. I’m willing to bet there are some supplies up there, including water.”

Kaleb shook his head. “An airship? Damn, we must have overlooked it the first time around. How could we have missed seeing something that obvious?”

Amalthia laughed. “Because you, dear husband, were too damn busy picking up raptor eggs for your little pet menagerie.”

As the couple wandered closer, several figures began to emerged from atop the bluff. Clad in black and silver armor, the pair quickly realized the individuals were Pact soldiers who were most likely survivors of the airship crash.

“Ho there, stranger,” yelled the tallest Pact member who obviously looked to be a norn and, was in all probability, the leader of the group. 

After they met up with the surviving Pact members, Kaleb and Amalthia pitched in to help set up a makeshift camp complete with a mess hall and cooking station.  As Kaleb sat down and began guzzling down a huge stein of fresh water, the Pact leader sat down beside him and chuckled. “Word has reached my ears that your cooking skills are the stuff of legends. Thanks to you and your amazing, and also most unusual wife, my troops will enjoy the first good meal they’ve had in a good long time.” Kaleb smiled at the compliment. “Your ears wouldn’t be wrong. But the misses? She’s one helluva cook too, yanno. Not that I had anything to do with it, mind you.” The Pact leader let out a boisterous laugh as he gave Kaleb a hearty slap on the back. “By the spirits, you must be part norn. At least in heart anyway.”

“Chow had better be ready soon. Moog has been staring at me for the last hour. It is not that his staring alone that has me concerned so much as when he starts staring at the salad condiments then back at me that gives me some pause for concern. Not that I think he would actually do anything, mind you, but...” a sylvari Pact member said as he casually pointed towards his asura comrade.  

“Oh please. Just looking at you gives me indigestion. Where is our sustenance?”

“Say please.” Amalthia’s voice chimed throughout the tent as she walked towards the table carrying a pan of what appeared to be full of some type of fluffy yellow substance. “Be careful. It’s very hot.” Kaleb looked at his wife and beamed. “Damn, babe! I can’t wait to try it.” She smiled back, her fangs showing. “And I can’t wait for you to try it, my love.”

Once the portions were doled out, everyone in the camp ate heartily then thanked Amalthia for the delicious meal. She sat down beside her husband and nestled her chin atop his head.

The norn Pact leader looked at the unusual couple and commented, “that whatever it was, was absolutely amazing! What did you call it, again?”

Both Kaleb and Amalthia said in union, a frittata.

The norn looked dumbfounded. “Oh. It tasted just like eggs.”

“That’s ‘cause frittatas are made with eggs,” Kaleb pointed out.  Amalthia just nodded with a smiling closed-eyed grin.

“Oh. I see. That meal must have been truly magical because during the crash, our only container of poultry products was smashed against the rocks.”

Then it suddenly dawned on Kaleb. He turned around then looked his charr wife in her eyes then asked, “Ama?”

“Yes, Kal?”

“What did you use to make that frittata?”

She rolled her amber eyes, put a clawed index finger to her pursed lips then looked up for a moment before looking back at Kaleb. “Just what was on-hand. Why?”

“Eggs. Where did you get the eggs?” Kaleb demanded. The norn butted in. “Yes. Such a meal is deserving of a special name. Something memorable, something legendary!”

Amalthia scratched her chin for a moment before responding. “Something memorable... something legendary. Hmm. Let’s see -- I suppose the only thing one could possibly call it is...

...Pocket Raptor Surprise!”

[mr-kamiyama]

I went on a meme blog the other day, and of course, I saw strange things. I saw conspiracies about a third World War. Now, I knew *trump* was going to start *a war* from the get-go. I assumed with North Korea, but still... (And what he did in Iran looks too much like when America targeted and killed Japan's General/Admiral (?) Yamamoto to make me think this will just blow over. Not that I think imperial Japan was *remotely* good, but the Allies, namely America, Britain, and France, were doing the same thing)

Anyway, I kept seeing things like "women's rights, so why not draft the women?"

I'm a male DV survivor. I had one abusive partner of each binary gender. The relationship with my ex-wife was longer and more recent.

I still run the risk of running into either one, because unless I leave America and try to become a citizen somewhere else/reclaim Japanese citizenship, which I have multiple chronic health conditions and that usually ends that, there's really no work/future for me anywhere outside of the Bay Area (HI is even more progressive, but the climate would kill me in a few years), as most social work in the rest of this regressive country is run by Evangelical agencies, and desperately limited even then.

So I returned to this area. Where I have a chance of running into my abuser. She is a white woman. I am an Asian man. I am also mixed and often get misjudged as Latino or Native unless I give my obviously Japanese name. (Then I'm Chinese, because racism. Even immediately following "I'm Japanese") Asians are more likely to *survive* police brutality, as I already have, and of course, even when we do not, none of y'all will #saytheirnames, because y'all are bloody racist, but anyway

I can't really defend myself against her if it came to that. Everyone loves a white woman in trouble/"trouble," and even though she's able-bodied and almost a foot taller than me, she's a woman, I'm a man, and I would automatically be arrested/killed by police.

Unfair, right? Even though women have all the rights now?

But THEY DON'T

If they did, abortion and frigging contraceptives would be as uncontested here as in Japan, a country with actual separation of church and state (even though the ruling party is misogynist as all get-out) There wouldn't be a pay gap. There would be gender parity in every field and it wouldn't be necessary to help women get into STEM or comic-writing. You'd have a WNFL or just co-ed pro sports. Heck, there'd be high-school girls' football and baseball teams. (And even WNBA sports aren't on broadcast). That "serious" movies are always led by white (cis) men is just as much of a problem for being male-dominated as being white-dominated. (Not *necessarily* cis-dominated, but I've only seen one trans-led piece of media anywhere, and it was an indie project on YouTube, and we can do better than *that,* but we should also have gay stories of people older than *25,* and bi stories where "bi" is actually said instead of "doesn't like laaaabelllssssss" or ace stories instead of "frigid person becomes "normal and straight")

Sure, there are a *few* female CEOs, and sure, Affirmative Action helps mostly white women and not racial minorities of any gender, but contrary to what one can infer by Scarlet Johansen's statement about whitewashing Asian roles being "empowering women," WOC are people enough to be women, too.

And the fact of the matter is...women just *still* don't have equality.

Is it unfair that only men get drafted if there's actually a draft? (which hasn't been since Vietnam War, when America sent unwilling kids to die to aid colonist buddy France, and I doubt the Boomers, for all the headache they've always given everyone, are technologically able to make those memes en masse) Sure it is.

Is it unfair and very dangerous that I can't fight to the best of my ability should my ex-wife spot and attack me? Absolutely!

Was it unfair that cops laughed at an Asian guy and refused to take a report when I called on her? You bet!

But... it's also not fair that there's still a giant wage gap. That Roe V. Wade from *1973* is still being fought. That there's not really a thing of Latina CEOs in the US.

So, yeah...uh, misogyny is like racism or queerphobia. Bigotries that originated in Colonial Europe that should have never existed, but instead were spread around the world, and still aren't over. The feminists have yet to win.

So, I'd say "stop being stupid and bigoted," but if that really worked on anyone, the world wouldn't be turning fascist right now, so, yeah ...