#how are we letting this happen against a relegation team

[pernillecfcw]

Clown fc is back 😂🤡 you just gotta laugh 😂

[barcaatthemoon]

passenger princess || mackenzie arnold x reader ||

sometimes, you wish that mackenzie would let you drive.

"come on, we're gonna be late!" you shouted at mackenzie. the two of you both had media to do, and mackenzie had taken all morning getting ready. you thought that she looked absolutely stunning, but you didn't want to get yelled at for missing your required media.

"your chariot awaits," mackenzie said as she opened the passenger's side door for you.

"mac, babe, i love you, but i think that i should drive today," you tried to tell her. it was really no use because mackenzie obviously didn't want to listen. she always got like this whenever you suggested driving the two of you somewhere.

you had grown up in the city, and while mackenzie had been there for a good amount of time, she wasn't a local. mackenzie didn't know all of the shortcuts and side roads that would cut your travel time down by a third. and so, the two of you truged into the training facilities about 10 minutes late.

"sorry boss, traffic was horrible." mackenzie was quick to diffuse your coach and the media team's ire towards the two of you. they didn't seem too annoyed with mackenzie, but that same courtesy wasn't extended towards you. mac was their world class goalkeeper, and you were just another midfielder that they had gotten cheap. you had come up with a team that had come up during a relegation swap. whenever they went right back down the next season, you had joined west ham instead.

"we could have gotten here sooner if someone would have let me drive," you said. a few of your teammates started snickering behind you, as did mackenzie. you turned to glare at all of them, but the look that you sent your girlfriend was a bit more hurt.

"don't take it personally babe, but you're just not the driving type. you look too pretty in my passenger's seat." mackenzie was trying to be sweet, but it didn't work. she placed her fingers underneath your chin to tilt it up and kiss you, but you turned your face at the last second. a chorus of 'ooo's rang out from your teammates as you stormed out of the locker room.

the media bit was a little intense after that. mackenzie had only been joking, and her attempt at an apology had been brushed off. she didn't mean to upset you. driving wasn't something that she thought would be such a big deal for the two of you. she just liked doing things for you, and since you were normally very independent, this was one of the few things she had the opportunity to even attempt.

"are you ready to go back home?" mackenzie asked as the two of you made your way towards the parking lot.

"i'm not going home with you tonight," you told her. mackenzie's face fell immediately at the news. you hadn't been back to your apartment in two months, having stayed at mackenzie's. your lease was going to be up soon, and your roommate was in talks with a new transfer about moving in. however, you still had a couple of weeks before that happened.

"no!" mackenzie shouted. you winced at the loudness in such a close proximity. mackenzie's face softened a bit as she grabbed you by the arm and tugged you towards the car. "you don't live there, you live with me. we always go home together, you know this. did what i say really upset you this much?"

"it's not just the passenger princess jokes, mac. it's also not just you. i don't want all the girls and the staff to think that i can't do anything for myself. you don't hear all the jokes and comments. i swear that some of them think i can't do anything for myself." mackenzie's face fell as she saw how genuinely worked up you were getting over this. it went a lot further than she had known, and suddenly, mackenzie felt absolutely terrible that you'd been holding in these feelings for so long by yourself.

"hey, (y/n), look at me." mackenzie grabbed your face and leaned in close enough for you to feel her breath against your cheek. "i am sorry for making you feel bad. i am sorry for letting things get so out of hand. i know that you're independent. hell, you do practically everything for me, and driving you around, it feels like the only thing i can offer to help you out. if you want to drive us back, you can, just please come home with me. i don't want to spend a single night without you if i don't have to."

"mac, baby?"

"yeah?" mackenzie seemed scared, as if you were going to tell her that you still wanted to go back to your own apartment. a night in with mackenzie, even whenever you were mad at her, was better than a night in with your roommate any day.

"take me home," you told her. mackenzie's shoulders sagged down a little with relief. you pressed a quick kiss to her lips and threaded your fingers with hers. the two of you walked through the parking lot together towards mackenzie's car. she got the door for you, absolutely beaming when you kissed her cheek in thanks. "can we stop by tesco's on the way home?"

"of course. i'll take you anywhere you want to go." mackenzie grabbed onto your hand and kissed the back of it. you let out a little giggle and settled back into your seat. there wasn't any tension in the car, which you were beyond grateful for.

mackenzie pushed the cart for you in the store, following as you walked around picking out seemingly random things. some of it was groceries that you had noticed earlier needed to be replenished, but quite a bit of the things you were buying weren't things that you normally bought at all. mackenzie didn't bring it up, assuming that it was for some sort of surprise at home.

"can i get some assistance from my favorite sous chef?" you asked mackenzie. she looked up from the couch to see you standing in the entryway of the kitchen holding an apron that you had bought her as a joke. mackenzie could cook, but she rarely did outside of using the grill every other weekend during the summer months.

"i don't know what you're making," mackenzie told you. you brushed it off and helped her into the apron. you gave very clear directions and within the hour, you had a homemade sauce simmering for a spaghetti night.

"how does it taste?" you watched nervously as mackenzie tasted a bit of the sauce.

"if football doesn't work out, you should open a restaurant," mackenzie told you. you moved to press a kiss to her cheek as thanks, unsurprised when mackenzie turned so your lips landed on hers. her hands grabbed at your waist, squeezing gently as she deepened the kiss. "better yet, i'll keep you on as my personal chef. and i can be your chauffeur if you'd like."

"sounds good to me. now, go set the table, the food is almost ready." you gave mackenzie a gentle shove away from you. mackenzie blew you a kiss as she carried the plates and silverware out to the dining room table. mackenzie sat excitedly at the table when you got out there, right next to the place that she set for you. she spent the whole meal practically just staring at you, often to the point of spilling a bit of her sauce on herself every other bite. it was ridiculous, but another reminder of why it was so easy to love mackenzie sometimes.

[shiftertech]

"You are the firewall."

Do you remember making paper airplanes as a kid? How you would take a sheet of pristine white paper, from some orchard habitat within your trade region, and begin to fold it. Each crease another step in a standarized process, building towards a final goal. Maybe you thought your creation should be unique in some miniscule way, so you added a fold here, made a cut there, bent something assymetric to the other side. You made it yours, but it's still the same design underneath, passed along to children from century to century.

And then the time comes to launch it. You know the goal well: go the furthest distance, or avoid an obstacle, or some other idea of a fun challenge. You ready your arm, dialing in your angle and second guessing how much force you need to throw it, assessing the airspace ahead, prior to loosing it. Everything is perfect, your creases and folds, and your posture, and the very energy of the air, anticipation and excitement rolling off you.

You let your creation free.

An invisible gusting downdraft dips the nose hard. A teachers hand, batting it out of the sky with a scold on their lips. A door suddenly opened and obstructing its path without warning.

And in every instance, your creation lands gracelessly on the ground with some manner of damage. It strikes you that nothing you could have done would have avoided this outcome after the moment it left your hands. Despite your little bends in the wing to control flight dynamics, or your shouts to not disrupt its maiden flight, it happened anyway.

(or maybe you got lucky, and it did exactly what you wanted it to do. Congrats, by the way. I'm proud of you.)

Either way, you only had the ability to set the initial variables. That was the extent of your control, during creation. It was its own agent once it left your loving clutches.

If someone wanted to knock it out of the sky, there is nothing you could do to stop it.

If someone wanted to knock an autonomous Mechanized Battle Unit out of the sky, there is nothing we can do to stop it, if they have enough resources and smart minds. Our enemies have this in abundance.

We've done this song and dance before. It starts with them dropping a whole assault fleet. We dump resources to strengthen our security and they pour capital into breaking that in under a month. We build our own counter-drone teams and they redouble efforts to close the holes in their security. Rinse. Repeat.

It was and always will be a stalemate. There's always going to be an opening. No connected system is free of holes. No firewall can protect against fallible minds.

Yeah, open that unassuming document on your workstation baby—I promise it wont bite! If you do, you wont have to worry about anything ever again.

You see the problem, right? No one side could field a drone unit without it dropping like a rock sooner than later. Our prized angels were relegated to hangers, lest we throw them to be swatted down effortlessly by terminal wizards.

So we start fresh with our sheet of paper to fold anew. This time we make it a closed system, no longer receiving commands from an orbital relay connected to some grunt operator in a frigate's frigid battle room. Rather, we carve a space beneath the alloy hull and its angular folds, and put a flesh and bones pilot-operator there, and hook them up to a neural rig directly connected to the existing mechanized intelligence. We establish communications solely with the pilot, and the pilot works with the mech to execute on orders. A biological transciever between strategic commands and machine. The wetware firewall.

So when we throw our angels into the skies, we aren't throwing disposable toys up with the expectation to eventually crash and burn. We're sending predators, who don't fall over with a simple enter-key push, and have deadly instincts, and a strong desire to seek & destroy. There is however some things we didn't anticipate...

You know when you throw your paper airplane, and it does an extra twirl you didn't intend or design it to do? What if the airplane also spoke back to the wind which carried it? What if it became incomprehensibly entwined with the wind.

Fold and crease. A new creation, far off of what centuries of consensus dictated how a paper airplane was to be made. Who even cares about consensus when it flies higher than any one that has come before it.

Will it ever come back down?

[unitedbydevils]

Match Review: Bayern München 4-3 Manchester United

Lets be honest, reds. Defeat was almost certainly on the cards and a 1-goal deficit is perhaps a best case scenario.

In classic Ten Hag Era fashion, United started off looking competitive. We were more patient than against Brighton and spent good spells in Bayern's half, but that... didn't last [see below]

Beleaguered goalkeeper Andre Onana conceded what can only be described as a howler - on the back of a stream of constant criticism since the start of the season. An easy shot going in? Why does that seem familiar? Oh yeah, De Gea.

Kudos to Onana though. He actively requested to speak to the press post-match to apologise for his mistake, citing a good team performance and his failure as the reason for a missed result. I think he's wrong on that count - it was a team failing - but the humility to apologise and be accountable is an admirable trait.

Just four minutes later came Bayern's second goal; a well worked play around our box that was SO similar to goals scored by Brighton and Arsenal that either Lindelof/Casemiro aren't doing their jobs OR the coaching staff need to fix something in training because that was predictable and basic.

Despite limited service, Rasmus Hojlund was one of two (maybe three) bright sparks in United's performance. The Champions League debutant (we don't count an Atalanta qualifier) scored from a rare Marcus Rashford pass to bring the score back to 2-1.

Optimism suddenly. Energy. Vitality. Desire. United woke up! And then the Christian Eriksen/Casemiro pivot was bypassed yet again, Munich put it on United, and Eriksen conceded a silly but unfortunate handball - which led to a Harry Kane penalty and a 3-1 lead.

United never looked like the better team after the first 10 minutes, nor competitive after the first 20, but credit to the likes of Reguilon (who put in a big shift) and Pellistri (perhaps his first United start? away at Bayern?) for their determination and work rate through the match. Basic things, but if others aren't doing it it's remiss not to credit them.

Manchester United hung on in but freshly deflated didn't look like a renewed threat. Despite this, we some how scored the most scuffed goal from Casemiro. 3-2, game back on, right?

Wrong. Bayern push again and bang in a tidy 4th. Depression. But wait, then United run up the other end, final minute, and Bruno puts in a peach of a free kick for Casemiro to head home. 4-3, with 10 seconds of play left.

To the neutral, this was an interesting game, but it wasn't a good match. Had Bayern been in any semblance of form they could have snotted United 6 or 7 nil. That said, had United not had so many injuries and also been in form... I reckon we could have won. Were both teams in form then it would really have been a classic ECL clash. This is the nature of football. Shit happens, teams adapt.

There were few positives for United to draw from that match, but there were things confirmed: Eriksen cannot do it in the big games anymore. Casemiro needs a rest. Martinez/Lindelof needs work. Dalot is lucky AWB is out injured. Rashford needs to stop sulking and pass more. McTominay needs a special 1 on 1 coach to teach him movement and positioning because the man is allergic to receiving a pass.

The good news is that Mount, Varane, Amrabat and Mainoo are all close to a return. Will any be back for Burnley? We'll see, but that's the new focus and a must-win - potentially even a relegation six-pointer based on current form... jesus christ.

[cljordan-imperium]

Pixies - PT1 (JAN 2016)

Due to a newly discovered allergy to MRI spinal contrast, I am sidelined for a second day and unable to do final revisions on the chapter that was supposed to be next. Instead, I'll take you back in time 6 years...to when Brie was an RP Character and I wrote a multi part storyline because my writing partners were all busy and I was bored. Enjoy!!

I pressed “END” and stared at the phone in my hand.  I’d just gotten off the phone with Eric and made sure he was at the club and would be there till it closed.  We were getting ready to head out to battle a small army of demonic pixies, something that had apparently not been seen on Earth since around the time my brother was born.  To give you a clue on about how long ago that was. Justinian I was a childhood friend of my brother.  Yes, THAT Justinian I that was emperor of Rome.  The last demonic pixie infestation is said to be one of the reasons for the Nika Riots that took place in Constantinople in 529 AD.  In case you have never heard of these riots, because I certainly hadn’t before this whole thing started, let me give you a short lesson.  Two things to remember about these riots that lasted over a week is that they destroyed over half of the city and there were over thirty thousand people killed. 

If you were to sit down and Google Nika Riots like I did you would be confused on how a dispute over the pardoning of two members of rival chariot racing teams could lead to such chaos and devastation. According to history, sporting teams and in particular chariot racing teams were like the mob, street gangs and a political action committee all rolled into one.  There were two main ones, the Blues and the Greens.  The Blues were the favorite of Justinian by the way.  For a reason that is never quite explained easily, supposedly the Blues and the Greens fans and members got into a riot after one particularly ugly chariot race and it resulted in over 500 team members and fans being arrested for murder.  They were all convicted and sentenced to be hung.  All but two of them were, those two escaped and it just so happened it was one from each team.  To try and keep the peace among his people, Justinian commuted their sentences to imprisonment but the fans and team members demanded total absolution. This lead to yet another chariot race to determine their fate. Somewhere in the middle of the race, both teams and fans unified to not cheer against each other but to start ranting and challenging Justian. While this doesn’t make sense much to begin with, what came next makes no more and possibly even less. 

By the time you’re done reading about the strange politics and maneuvers that my brother’s friend supposedly did to end the riot that killed so many and destroyed so much, you’ll be sitting there thinking that they must have been half mad in those times.  While my brother’s behavior at times does tend to make me wonder about that, the truth is that to cover such a strange happening as the uprising of thousands of demonic pixies, you have to come up with a very strange tale to explain the devastation that ensued.  So, you end up with what history has recorded.  Now, so you can understand my concern for Eric and why we now had over 700 Nephilim on the grounds of the clave and even more portalling in almost every minute, I’ll tell you what really happened.

The Nephilim have been in existence since the first sin was committed and demonic forces first held sway over man.  There are stories they came later, but in reality our race is as old as mankind itself.  By the time of the Nika Riots, there were claves of Nephilim in all major ancient cities.  In those times we didn’t have to hide our true nature,  people of those times were more accepting that there were beings and beasts that were not of humanity and had not relegated them yet to the bedtime stories meant to scare and thrill.  Constantinople had one of the largest claves in the area, and it also had a horrid demon problem that didn’t seem to be diminishing over the years.  As the clave grew, so did the demonic presence.  Some would say that this was to keep the balance of power between good and evil, others have various theories, but everyone agrees that’s just how it was.  

Normally the demonic forces took their normal forms, that is until 529 when the first reported sightings of demonic pixies was recorded in Constantinople.  Now, we’re not talking about just a few demonic pixies, we’re talking about thousands of them suddenly appeared in the city, and for some reason the chariot races seemed to annoy them.  So at each race, a horde of demonic pixies would rise up and attack the spectators, often killing dozens through the use of their magic.  Being as pixies are, at their tallest, three inches in height, they were hard to kill with the weapons that were in existence at the time because they weren’t accurate enough.  The populace demanded that Justinian do something about this since his association with the Nephilim, mainly my brother, was well known.  The problem at hand were the weapons the Nephilim used were no different then in most respects than they are today.  Rarely does our race encounter such small demonic forces.

Race after race, people were being attacked and killed till that fateful day when the riots began.  More pixies than normal swarmed into the stadium as the races commenced and began the slaughter of the mortals that were there.  Outraged that Justinian had done nothing to thwart the problem, those in attendance began to riot the palace that was next door to the colosseum since it seemed to be immune from the pixie attacks and they blamed Justinian for not having this problem resolved already.  Justinian sent word to the clave of what had happened and requested immediate assistance.  Even in ancient times, Nephilim could portal, so the clave sent out messengers to all the major claves and soon an army of Nephilim were at the palace.

Because the rioting was even more disruptive than the chariot races, the pixies never relented on their attacks on the mortals.  This was what accounted for the high death rate.  Mortals, not able to combat the pixies began trying to catch them on fire.  Pixie wings will burn, but they do so slowly which only caused fire to spread throughout the city, causing the devastation that history has recorded.  Even with the massive army of Nephilim on hand, eradicating the pixies was a slow and tedious process since they could only be killed by iron.  For each pixie, it would need to be struck by iron to knock it to the ground, where it would then be impaled by iron and killed.  When you are battling thousands of pixies, killing them one at a time is not a very productive, nor speedy, process.  So again a call went out among the Nephilim for the mages to be brought together to find a remedy that would allow the Nephilim army to take down the pixies in large groups.

The mages worked tirelessly around the clock as the rioting and pixie attacks continued throughout the city.  Using a few pixies that the Nephilim forces had captured as test subject, the mages tried all different matter of spells, potions, poultices, and powders.  None seemed to have much affect, even those that contained substantial amounts of iron.  Justinian and the Nephilim Council of the time were beginning to believe that the city would fall to complete ruin and that the pixie problem would spread throughout the Roman Empire if it were not contained quickly.  More mages were brought in and more test subjects captured.  Any and every possible idea was to be tested until one could be found that would work.

 

It was during one trial when a mage realized why none of the powders were working, they fell right off of the pixies.  A way needed to be found to make the powder stick to the pixie and then it would work.  Since the pixies were also demonic, the mage came up with perfect plan.  The powder to be used was to be a combination of blessed salt and finely shaved iron, a rather coarse grit instead of fine grit powder.  While the elements of the powder were mixed together, the mage would recite blessings and incantations that gave the powder the power of the Divine.  An Elemental Nephilim would be required for this to work properly, as there had to be something for the powder to stick to on the pixie.  The day before the recorded end to the riots, the first trial was held in a courtyard of the palace.  The Elemental Nephilim caused a fine mist to form in the air around the pixies.  Other Nephilim then used bellows to blow the powder mixture onto the pixies.  As the mage had predicted the pixies fell like stones to the ground and seemed unable to get up from the weight of the powder now stuck to them, they also are reported to have been slightly smoking.  Large iron shields were then used to smash the pixies to death.  

Word was sent out quickly through the city to gather whatever large iron objects could be brought to the colosseum to smash all pixies that could be found, since they most often congregated there because that is where the rioters who were still trying to breach the palace were creating the greatest disturbance.  On that day, it was not one team’s supporters who were rushed out of the colosseum, it was all mortals that were rushed out as the army of Nephilim rushed in.  The Elemental Nephilim took positions high around the colosseum and created an atmospheric disturbance that formed a light mist in the air that coated Nephilim and pixie alike.  As soon as all were coated, the mist was dissepated and the Nephilim on the colosseum floor drew out dry bellows containing the blessed and enchanted powder that they filled the air of the colleseum with until all of the  pixies lay writhing on it’s foor.  Nephilim and mortal alike began using the gathered iron objects to smash all the pixies to death.  In the records it is said that the dead pixies covered the floor of the colosseum in a two inch thick layer, which is about four pixie bodies thick.  To take care of the pixies that were still elsewhere in the city, pairs of Nephilim, one of whom was an Elemental, were sent out throughout the city.  Within 24 hours, all of the pixies were dead.  

As time moved forward and the belief in the supernatural diminished, no longer could the story be told of the pixie invasion of Constantinople.  Those who passed on the history had to come up with mortal reasons for the devastation and massive loss of life that happened during that week.  How they decided in the end to make it over chariot races, I still haven’t quite determined.  Personally, even to the logical mortal mind a pixie invasion would make more sense than that!  But, that is what history has stuck with and no man the world over believes.  Unfortunately, the pixie problem has resurfaced again in my city.  It is threatening those I love and the innocents that I protect.  Now it is my clave who has called on Nephilim the world over to come to our aid to wipe out an infestation that is as large as the one that Justinian faced.  I am hoping the only known living Nephilim who attended that erradication of the first infestation, my brother, will make it back to the clave before we must leave to face this deadly and tiny foe.  Otherwise, this is my battle to lead and honestly I’m a little nervous about that.

THE IMPERIUM CHRONICLES TAG LIST - @ceph-the-ghost-writer @kjscottwrites @writingpotato07 @saltysupercomputer @careful-pyromancer @late-to-the-fandom @autumnalwalker @perasperaadastrawriting @fearofahumanplanet @jessica-writes22 @dogmomwrites @mjjune @verba-writing @blind-the-winds @shipping-through-eternity

Anyone wanting added/removed, just let me know.

[takerfoxx]

Even though exactly nobody follows me for my opinions about Gridman, this is still a fan blog, and I've technically been a Gridman fan since I was a little kid, even if only through Superhuman Samurai Syber-Squad basically being my Power Rangers, because I wasn't allowed to watch Power Rangers (growing up in a conservative Christian household in the 90's was fucking weird, man). Still have the toys, in fact.

So anyway, given my nostalgic fondness for Gridman, of course I was all about the anime reboot. I loved SSSS Gridman, thought it was great. And while Dynazenon wasn't quite as good (felt the climax fell a little flat), it was still really good, and I enjoyed the hell out of it.

And now I finally got around to watching the crossover movie that serves as the franchise's grand finale, and...huh.

Well, let me put it this way. My reactions went about as such.

Man, it's been a while since I've watched this. Gotta recall everyone's names and what happened at the end.

Okay, this multiverse shit is admittedly kind of lame, and there's a lot of really out there coincidences, but it's still fun to see the two casts of characters hanging out and interacting. Feel sorry for both team's b-tier members, though. They get like maybe one or two lines apiece. Also, dafuq is up with Gauma's princess just showing up the hell out of nowhere! You'd think that'd be a bigger deal!

This play script is totally a meta-commentary on the writers' own frustrations in making this movie, isn't it?

Kaiju fights are still hype, though!

Wait, hold on. They're not actually...

They boomed me! They actually boomed me! They pulled a Rebellion Story and got me! Oh, this is good! Hell yeah, turn up the weird, I wanna see how this-

Well. This may be the stupidest climax that I've ever seen.

Eh, things ended on a nice note, I guess.

So, basically this movie's biggest problem is its villain. Like, we find out the reason for the different digital worlds colliding is because Gridman himself became corrupted and all the worlds that he created are merging. Okay, that's cool! I like that!

Except we find out that Gridman was actually corrupted by an outside force, who turns out to be this super-kaiju...whom we literally never heard anything about until the final fight starts and he just shows up and starts ranting in cliched super-villain monologues! Like, serious! Who even was this guy? Why is this franchise's final, final battle where all the characters team up and we have like a gazillion different new combinations and super-weapons against this fucking Dragonzord-looking motherfucker that we've never even heard of until the punching started and we get no exposition about until literally the climax of the movie? Why would we even care about this guy?

Seriously, if you needed a final boss, Alexis is literally right there! Just have this be part of his master plan! Or, hell, if you wanted to go meta with it, make it be Khan Digifer, the OG villain from the original show! Or commit and make it Gridman himself! Make the final fight be a "I know you're in there!" fight to redeem a hero corrupted by his own guilt and self-loathing!

And while it was fun seeing Akane again, the way they brought her back was pretty sloppy. I know it's Trigger and Trigger is ridiculous, but it usually feels like there's a method to the madness.

I mean, I still enjoyed a lot of it. The two teams interacting was fun, even if Yomogi did get relegated to sidekick. Sorry buddy, protagonist no longer. And poor Yume and Koyomi were...there, I guess? I mean, even Chise felt like she had more to do. Same with the NG high-schoolers. I guess they had lines. And it did feel like they were running down a checklist of everything they needed to cram in, like Yomogi and Gauma's reunion, the two protags having a heart to heart, etc. But I still liked it.

So, not upset that I watched it, but the final act left a lot to be desired.

[redwineconversation]

Lyon - Guincamp Preview / Lyon - St Polten Postgame Thoughts

I think there is a genuine case to be made if you say the St Polten game was the worse game Lyon has played all season, which is saying something because we had just suffered through the Dijon game a few days earlier.

It was a boring game, none of the Lyon players were good, and it was really a case of whom was least bad rather than actually good. Van de Donk and Bacha deserved their respective Player of the Match trophies, although I do think Bacha should have swept it, as much as that will upset van de Donk's nutcase stans. Anyway, those two players were good, the rest should be graded on a scale of "not bad" to "they made me wish I could be drinking at work".

People were ripping into Carpenter's "crosses", and I am using quotation marks deliberately, and let's be frank. They weren't wrong to do so. The day Carpenter crosses accurately is the day I will finally know peace. I long for that day. I truly do think it will even happen one day, and I just hope I am alive to see it happen.

But she wasn't the worse player on the pitch, and that's why certain fans screaming that Sombath should be starting over her really perplexed me. Sombath doesn't have the maturity or physicality to handle pressure from high intensity teams. Yes, Sombath can hold her own against the likes of Dijon, but against the heavy weights? We just have to look at what happened to Lyon last season when Carpenter was out to answer that question.

The other reason I am slightly perplexed at the screaming towards Carpenter is, well, she was also doing her job as a defender. I feel a lot of the time when Carpenter abides by her job description, which is to actually defend, people start breathing very heavily into a brown paper bag because she is not contributing to the attack. Yes, I like Carpenter and Diani's overlapping runs. You know what I also like? Defenders who do their job.

Does Carpenter have room to improve? Yes. Will there ever be a day when she can cross accurately? Who knows. But her experience and ability to handle high pressure games puts her above Sombath. Just because Sombath scored a couple of goals against relegation level teams doesn't automatically qualify her as a starter. Let's not offend anyone's intelligence by pretending otherwise.

For me, the one who deserves proper criticism in the St Polten game is Hegerberg. I struggle to remember a performance as bad as that one. There were absolutely no excuses for that kind of misses. She was missing passes, her shots were off, her timing was off. Everything was off, even her attitude. It was an atrocious performance from her. Let's be frank here and now: a player who puts up that kind of performance deserves to be benched for the next game.

Which leads us to the Guincamp ("EAG") dilemma, aka how many bad decisions can Bompastor possibly make before I open a bottle of wine regardless of the time of day.

Gilles was released early to join the Canada WNT camp. Now, this is emotionally conflicting for a variety of reasons. Positives: I don't want Gilles run into the ground and therefore am supportive of giving her breathing time whenever possible; the only way M'Bock will get back to match fitness is to actually play 90 minutes. I am supportive and agree with both those arguments.

But: if Lyon is releasing Gilles early to join the Canada camp, why aren't they also releasing Carpenter as well, since Canada will be playing against Australia? I don't have the exact numbers in front of me but I don't believe that Gilles has played a dramatically superior number of games than Carpenter has, so the excuse of resting Gilles ahead of the international break ahead of Carpenter is perplexing since they will be traveling the same distance. Literally.

The second thing is, Bompastor argued that the players who played little to no minutes against St Polten will be starting against Guincamp. Based on that argument, Sombath is starting over Carpenter since Carpenter started the St Polten game. In that case, again, why not release Carpenter rather than have her start on the bench? The reverse holds true: if Carpenter starts, then why have released Gilles early?

Though maybe Bompastor is keeping some of her typical starters on hand because she too remembers the horror show against Dijon, as much as we would all like to put that collective nightmare performance behind us. And this is something else I want to talk about because the Twitter analysts are really getting on my nerves here.

Becho is not a starter. This isn't even me being biased. Camille Abily said as much: Becho isn't there yet as a starter. Abily can see it but for some reason Bompastor decided otherwise and we got the absolute horror show that was her performance against Dijon. Are we supposed to sit here and pretend that within the space of 10 days, which included a UWCL game, Becho developed the nerves and maturity to start?

Now, if she scores a hat trick in the first half, I will gladly admit that I was wrong and that Abily's judgment was off, too. I am willing to recognize my mistakes. But as things stand here and now, Becho has proven consistently that she is not fit to start. Dijon showed us as much. Guincamp will most likely show us the same.

Third problem: Dijon also showed us what happens when Marozsan and Majri start. The midfield's performance against Dijon was atrocious. It was horrible. They could not string passes together, they moved with the same pace and intensity as LA traffic at rush hour on a Friday afternoon. Bompastor had to throw on Horan and van de Donk to save face, and we're most likely going to get a repeat of that against Guingamp.

Which again is conflicting: I don't want van de Donk and Horan to be run into ground what with both of them being part of the stronger midfield; I don't want to have to suffer through Dijon 2.1 (St Polten being Dijon 2.0). We shouldn't be in a situation where we have to rely on van de Donk and Horan to save us because the remaining offensive midfielders haven't run since circa 2019.

Now, for all the complaining I am doing about Lyon's performance, I will also - grudgingly - acknowledge that it's harder on Lyon to play freely when they're up against 5-4-1 formation. Low blocks are harder to break down, it's frustrating to play against teams whose sole ambition is to park the bus, blah blah. I get that. I agree with it.

I also don't think it excuses Lyon's performances against Dijon and St Polten, and it won't be an excuse against Guingamp (whom if I remember correctly, Lyon drew against last season, so we really do need to prepare ourselves for a third horror show performance in 10 days).

Lyon is a team more or less stacked with experienced international players. It would be great if, for the first time in 10 days, Lyon would act like a team more or less stacked with experienced international players.

Anyway, that's that. Thanksgiving break is over so I will be getting back to my unpaid hobby of translating Lyon content so people can see this frustrating but complex team the way I do.

[organic-lure-trees]

I was thinking for my next fic that I’d like to make a long-chapter series fic that involves legal drama and soft filler moments with my lawbot OC, Samuel the backstabber. It’ll be a large undertaking, and a lot of research at that, but it’d be cool to try.

But I’m undecided on whether to tackle TTR canon or TTCC canon first. TTCC’s established their own lore for the cogs with the presence of boardboats and how the CJ was replaced with the CLO. That’s not even getting to other stuff such as cogs having children, unique managers, there being places outside of Toontown that the cogs have control over, surnames, and etc.. 

Basically I have a general idea for either of these canons and how the story for each of them go:

TTR: It’s just a usual routine for Samuel as he goes about his vapid, mundane routine of dealing with case after case, hearing the CJ’s insipid lectures, and just existing as a cog in general. He feels sick of it all and believes he’ll never get the inner peace he so desperately desires. He’s just a cynical, worn-down lawbot that isn’t sure what to do with himself anymore.

Then at one point, he’ll defend a toon in court much to the determent of his peers and even the CJ himself. Why the lawbot chose to do this despite it going against the very nature of a cog involves lots of past events, growing knowledge, and internal emotions.

Despite the obvious outcome, Samuel believed in justice for those who are unable to defend themselves, regardless of his own ingrained bias towards toons. He couldn’t stand to see someone suffer and be relegated to such an unfair trial.

Cue a private meeting within CJ’s office as the two argue over what occurred. CJ believes what Samuel did was disgraceful and that he let his stupid emotions get the better of him to go  and willingly defend a toon of all things. Samuel would argue back about all of the stuff he’s had to deal with, and asks why he was even made with these thoughts and feelings if he’s just going to be relegated as another cog in the machine. It’ll be a lot of debate as CJ has his own fair set of issues and takes it out of Samuel because he sees a part of himself deep down that he hates so much.

In the end, Samuel really did take a “stab in the dark” with his fight with the CJ. What happens after I’m still undecided about. The CJ could have him scrapped for displaying such tenacity, demote him, exile him, or any other bad outcome. 

But if by some chance that the CJ is merciful (and that’s a big if), he’ll let Samuel off on the condition that he never speaks of this to anyone and continues to work to the best of his abilities. That’s he’s sorry for what’s happened in the past and that he’s proud to have a lawbot like him around. (Of course this is just wishful thinking we all know CJ is a massive prick and this will most likely never will occur).

TTCC: Samuel dealing the the aftermath of the CJ resigning and the original Lawbot HQ being destroyed during the Break the Law event. With the CLO being hired as the new leader, there’s now a new doctrine established that requires all lawbots to learn corporate law instead of criminal and civil law. 

Of course, the backstabber is not thrilled about this at all. Now, he has to work around these new, arbitrary laws (as if the previous ones he dealt with weren’t already bad enough) to ensure that his clients get the best defense they can during trial. He may at one point have to defend a toon despite all the odds stacked against them.

There’s also the introduction of the litigation team that Samuel will cross paths at one point during one of his trials. Lets just say they don’t get along with each other well, and that there’ll be a special case involved where Samuel will be humiliated and curb stomped by the leader. Internal dilemmas ensues and Samuel will come back to “pierce the corporate veil” to hold everyone involved responsible and ensure his client gets the justice they deserve in the end.

[ketso]

Episode 34

Mfundo and Nene invited us to their house for dinner today. Mfundo and I want to chat about the Legends. They've been on an all-time losing streak lately, and we are not sure how to bring it back to how it used to be. Maybe the era of Yaya, Tee-le, Shack and Leruo was a once in a lifetime experience in football. But still... we used to be top of the league and now we are somewhere between 10th place and relegation.

Fikile suggested that we do a documentary for the current team... telling a story about how these players have such massive shoes to fill. It is our narrative, and we decide what that will look like. She then said we should take them on a gentlemen camp, where former players also come in, teach them our values and start strengthening their minds in all of this. I'm with it. Now that her mother's burial is out of the way and her brother is in rehab as a part of his healing programme, we can perhaps bring this conversation up again.

We walk into Mfundo's and Nene's house. Nene is heavily pregnant now. She could give birth any day.

"Timer", Mfundo greets me with a bromance handshake.

"Kunjani, ndoda?" Me.

"I'm good. You?"

"I'm good, son."

He greets Koena, Thingo and Zothile.

Nene and Koena are already bonding about being pregnant. Nene is saying that she's done with kids. Koena says that's what she said after Thingo, then Zothile happened. Nene laughs. Then she says, "Mah, what am I going to do with four kids?"

I never understand this question. What does anyone do with four kids? You raise them and love them. You do with four kids what you would do with one kid.

But anyway.

They are expecting a girl. Nene is excited.

"Mfundo, must I teach you how to make boys?" I say.

Everyone laughs.

I do have three.

"Please teach him, khulu. I need a brother", Saneliso says.

Nene's eyes almost pop out of her face.

I scratch my head.

"Don't you enjoy me and you being the only boys around here?" Mfundo says to Liso, saving the situation, I suppose.

"I do. But another boy would be nice. The girls are out-numbering us." Liso says.

We just laugh.

We are now seated at the dining table having dinner. Nene is the one who cooked and shame, I love the girl's cooking. It's really great.

"I found a place for the gentlemen camp. It's in Madrid." Mfundo says.

"Will you be able to go? I mean, Nene will give birth any day from now", I say.

"I might not go. Or I'll go if Nene and the kids can come with me." He says.

I look at Nene. She doesn't look happy about this. They look like they fought about this.

Koena looks at me. She sees it too.

"But let's wait for Fikile. She will give us a solid plan to work with." I say.

Mfundo nods his head.

"Nene, I'm not sure what you had planned for after you've given birth. But you are very welcome to come stay with us. I'm happy to help you with the baby as well as help manage Liso and Mbali", Koena says.

I was against this. I don't need that many people in my house. But, we eventually agreed. I have a slight hope that Nene will go to her mother's house. She has a mother and sisters.

"Thank you, mama. That would really be great. If it's okay, I can move in next week. Mfundo works long hours and I'm really struggling with Mbali and Liso, plus the pregnancy", she says.

Now I feel bad.

"You are very welcome. If you need me to stay with you for the rest of the week, I'd be happy with that." Koena.

"Hai bo! And mina?" I honestly cannot bite my tongue.

"Mthunzi -

"I think we can move in tonight then", Mfundo says.

Ai! I was coming for dinner – not to collect headcount that will fill up my house!

Just like that?!

Nene smiles.

Koena is the one who offers to wash the dishes. Nene sits with her, chatting away with her. Koena made her sit and relax.

I'm with Mfundo in his bar.

"Is everything okay between you and Nene?" I ask him.

"Yoh timer, we just fight a lot lately", he says.

"What's going on?" Me.

"She thinks I'm cheating on her." He says.

"Cheating, Mfundo? Already?" Me.

"I'm not cheating, Timer. I'd never cheat on Nene. I'm not that brave. Swati women are not exactly the type you cheat on", he says.

"So, what's making her so suspicious?"

"The late work nights and the fact that I'm not always available to answer her calls. She thinks I'm with another woman and that's why I can't take her calls while I'm out at night." He says.

I look at him. He really looks stressed.

"This pregnancy has made her so... different", he says. "Her body and hormones are preparing to bring a human being into this world. There is nothing easy about that. Of course, she's going to change", I say.

“But this is a lot. I’m not coping. I look forward to being away from her!” He says.

“I can relate. Koena was a nightmare after Thingo was born. Then with Zothile, she was so insecure. I was very tempted to start booking myself into hotels and sleeping there. I couldn’t keep fighting with her all the time. At the one doctor’s appointment, the doctor said the baby was stressed. I really just had to deal with it for the remaining months and hope I’d get my wife back after the pregnancy.” I tell him.

“Was Mbali’s mom like that too?” He asks me.

I really don’t like talking about my exes. But since he asked…

“I was working most of the time when Sindi was pregnant. I had just started out as a young professional, and I was taking care of you and Kholeka. I never got to be around long enough to see how she was handling the pregnancy. Kholeka lived at home with her parents, and I lived with my parents. So, I couldn’t be there for her pregnancy with you.”

He nods his head.

“How was Bontle?” I ask.

“Bontle has always been crazy. Pregnancy was just a justification for her insanity for nine months. But Mbali is nine now. What is Bontle’s excuse for being crazy now?”

I laugh!

He is too stressed to even laugh at what he has just said.

"But what am I supposed to do?" He asks me.

"Maybe think about working from home for the last weeks of this pregnancy. Maybe when she sees you working, she will see that you are not cheating", I say.

"She's my wife, Timer. I shouldn't have to convince her that I'm faithful and loyal to her."

"You do. We live to do that in marriage. Many men out there have given us a bad name to the extent that more often than not, we are guilty until proven innocent. We just have to show our women that we are the men that are different. Too many people have made different men abnormal." I tell him.

He downs his whiskey.

Nene walks into the bar.

"Mfundo", she says.

He looks at her.

"Uhamba nathi to your parents' house or uyasala?" She asks me.

"What are you asking me, Nene?" Mfundo.

"I'm asking if I should pack for you too? Or sikushayisa umoya?" Nene.

"Nene, you are my family. Why would I want to be apart from you?"

"It's a yes or no question." Nene.

This is bad.

Mfundo downs his drink.

"Mfundo?!" Nene.

"Do what you want", he says.

She looks like she wants to cry.

"Pack for him, Nene. You are all coming", I say.

She nods her head then leaves.

I hear sniffing.

"Mfundo", me.

"Timer -

"You said you wanted to get married. That comes with a wife. A wife is someone you take care of - not just financially, but emotionally too. If she's fragile, you take extra emotional care of her. Stop this shit!" I say.

He looks at me.

...

I had told Khanyi to fly back. I drove back because someone had to come back with the car. She insisted on driving back with me. It's a long drive. I appreciate her for driving back with me, though.

We have just arrived in the kingdom and it is 2am. Her grandmother's funeral was dramatic, to say the least.

Everyone - well, all the Mbatha sisters - blamed Latifah - the Mbatha bride - for their mother’s death. I tried my best to stay away. Rea and I got overalls and we just stayed away from the yelling. Then, Khanyisa brought Rea and I a plate to eat. Kazi was following her with drinks. For whatever reason, Rofhiwa was not at the house that day. I remember Aunt Noni coming out and yelling at Latifah. Latifah tried to reply and a mpama flew through the air from one place to Latifah's face.

Reahile and I looked at each other, wondering if we should intervene... because shame, Latifah's kids were right there, watching their mother getting her ass kicked. Then Khanyi looked at us and said, "Myeke!"

So, we left it.

Trust me, we couldn't swallow the food in peace. It just felt wrong. Then we would look at each other and we couldn't stop laughing. With bab'Sbo in hospital, the Mbatha sisters were having their way with Latifah. When papa didn't get involved, we just thought it was bad for her. Then she was told that she should probably go back home until Sibongiseni comes back. She tried to fight, but the sisters were not having it. Aunt Noni, the other sister and their kids even moved back in. But Latifah refused to leave. So, she lives right there with them. It's a mess.

"Ngilambe", Khanyisa says.

"Really?" I ask her.

She's already putting something together on the stove.

"I'm so glad ubaba is doing better", she says.

"Yeah. He was lucky."

"Yeah. I wonder who shot him and why that person shot him." She says.

"Khanyi, when you start thinking like this, I just know your thoughts will lead you to places you shouldn't be."

She looks at me.

Then she continues cooking and says, "I wonder if Latifah had anything to do with this."

What does this family have against that poor woman?

"She has a lot to gain if baba passed away. I must get kazi to talk to baba about putting a will together. Without a will, that witch gets motive to kill him, then she and her brats get everything." What's wrong with Khanyi?

"Khanyi, those brats are your siblings. And Latifah is your father's wife. You need to stop speaking like this." I say.

"I'm so glad you chose me to be your girlfriend. At least I actually love you and I don't want bad things happening to you. Your naivety would have had you killed by another woman. These days, someone being your wife is not enough for them to not put themselves first", she says.

She's spending too much time with my mom, Banathi's mom and the church. Why is she speaking like this?

She serves me a full English breakfast at 2:15am. She eats with me on her own plate.

"Will we be sleeping in today?" She asks me.

"We will sleep a bit. But I have to go and check on my petrol stations." I tell her.

She nods her head.

"But you can sleep in. I don't mind." I tell her.

"I think I want to go into town today. Maybe some old suburbs or something."

"Why?" I ask. Because this is very random.

"I want to go check out a block of shops that have aged badly. I want to buy a block and kind of revamp it."

This is different.

I pay attention to her.

"I want to start my own franchise of grocery stores. But I know I'll get endorsed by the government if I make it a government project. So, I thought I'd talk to gog'Kea and see if we can't branch Reahile out to grocery and necessity goods store. Then we will pop them up in failed business areas in old suburbs."

One thing about Khanyisa Mbatha is that she is one hell of a businesswoman. Her mind!

"But, I'm also thinking I could just start my own thing. Own brand and everything", she says.

"I could drive with you... maybe even invite my dad. He's very good with such things. He will help you decide." I offer.

"You wouldn't mind?"

"Not at all", I say.

She smiles at me.

"I want us to have our own things, you know. Like when I graduate from university, I want us to be comfortable with whatever we decide to do." She says.

"I want us to get married after your umemulo." I say.

She smiles at me.

"I'm serious." Me.

"Do you think I'm wife material?" She says.

"What's that?" I ask.

"I'm not exactly your stay-at-home wife who just has babies and looks after the house. I want to make money. I want to equally contribute to our wealth."

"I don't expect you to be something you are not. If I wanted a housewife who would be all these things that you are listing, I'd have found someone else. Women like that are not in short supply. But, I want an equal... not a responsibility. And I know I've found that in you." I tell her.

"You sure?" She asks me.

"Very sure", I say.

...

I left home at 1pm and Khanyisa was still fast asleep. I checked in on my businesses. So far, all is great. I've also asked my dad to do this inspection with us. He was actually excited about it. So, I'm going to pick him up at home. He said I must.

I arrive at my parents' home and I see that all their cars are here. They are both home. I know Ru is home too because I was chatting with her this morning.

I use my keys to let myself in.

"Ru", I greet her as I find her in the kitchen preparing a bowl of grapes and berries for herself.

"Hello. Ujwang?" She greets me.

"I'm good. Where's dad?"

"Upstairs with mom", she says.

"He said I must pick him up. Are they busy?" I enquire.

She looks at me weird then says, "Their door is locked."

Yoh! Of all days, today they decided to have afternoon sex and love each other more than the ordinary day?

She then pulls a face and says, "At least you don't live with them".

Ja, she's right. She's got it worse.

We make our way to the patio to eat because I know I'll be here for a while. When that door is locked... ai!

"How's Khanyi doing after her grandmother passed away?" She asks me.

"She's strong. You know Khanyi. But she's hurting. And I want her to be vulnerable. Grief is uncomfortable, yes, but she has to sit in it and go through it." I say.

"She's very lucky to have you. I want a boyfriend just like you, one day", she says.

I laugh at her. Wahlanya this one!

"So, Tiisetso was here", she says.

Okay, that explains the locked door. Also, it still disturbs me that she calls our aunt by name.

"When?" I ask.

"Last night. Apparently, Bakang is sick, and she needs money to pay for the medical bills and some surgery he still needs to have." Ru tells me.

"What did mom say?" I ask.

"She said she must use the money she stole from her and dad's company when she was mom's PA. Tiisetso called her heartless and said if Bakang dies, it's her fault. Obviously, mom lost it. She went on and on about how selfish Tiisetso is and how mom owes her nothing. Mom says she's always made questionable decision and it was always mom that had to clean up after her. Even the fact that Tiisetso can't go to Bakang's dad for help is proof of how irresponsible and inconsiderate she's always been. Then Tiisetso hit mom and a fight broke out. Dad stopped the fight and told Tiisetso to leave. Next thing, mom gets hijacked when she left to buy stuff at the shop. I couldn't hear her and dad talk properly, but somehow, dad figured out that Tiisetso was behind mom's hijacking and mom got her arrested."

Yoh! Ru is saying a lot here.

"Mom was hijacked? Was she hurt?" I ask.

"The person who hijacked her hit a gun against her head. Someone nice took her to a doctor. Dad had to fetch her there this morning. He's been angry and making phone calls all day shouting at people. He's like 'they hit my wife with a gun! Do they have a death wish?' Yoh Bane", Ru says. The way she imitates my dad is actually funny. He does speak like that.

"I need to go see mom", I say.

I'm already on my feet and I'm heading upstairs. Ru is right behind me.

I knock on their door.

"Come in", my dad says.

I walk in and find my mom lying down. She's lying on my dad's chest. She has a plaster on the side of her head.

"Who did this to you?" I ask her.

"Bane, I'm fine." My mom.

"Why didn't you guys tell me she was hijacked?" I ask.

"We didn't want you to panic." My mom says.

"You are my mother!" I remind her.

"Bane, sit down, monna." My dad.

I sit on the occasional chair that's in here.

"Your mom was hijacked. We should have told you. We apologize. We panicked and just wanted to make sure that she's okay." My dad explains.

I nod my head. Then I say, "How are you feeling now? And where's your car?"

"I'll be fine. The doctor says I'm okay. The car is in the garage." My mom says.

"And Tiisetso? Is she going to be a problem?" This is the first time that I call her by name, and they are shocked.

"KHABANE!" My mom.

"We are dealing with it." My dad.

Ja neh...

"Papa, if you can't make our appointment, it's okay." I say.

"No, we are going. I need to get out of the house." My mom says.

"Are you sure? Khanyi will understand." I say.

"We are sure. Ibile papa wa hao has made appointments with the owners of those properties that Khanyisa has an interest in." My mom.

"Well then, in that case..."

They get up and get ready for the viewing.

What the hell is Tiisetso's issue?

This is not over!

...

We walk into our house. It's been a long day. We've just come from seeing Sibongiseni in hospital. He's in rehab. The rehab is aggressive, but it's doing the job. Fikile had to tell him that their mother passed away. He didn't take it well at all. I'm proud of her for not sharing her "Latifah killed their mother" theory with him. I appreciate her EQ of realizing that this wasn't the time nor the place to have that conversation with him.

Mthunzi, Mfundo and I have been managing NIR without her as she took leave. We completely understand and would love to give her space to grieve and heal. But her division is difficult, and she manages it too well. We can feel her absence when she's not at the office.

"Love", I say to her as we walk into our bedroom. The boys are at Mthunzi's house. Mthunzi says he's coming to drop them off because he and Mfundo want to chat to Fikile and I.

"Yes baby?" She answers me.

"Are you alright?" I ask her.

"Yeah. I just want to take a nice long bath, then pass out." She says.

I smile at her.

"Can I join you in that bath?" I ask.

"Always." She says, smiling slyly at me.

"Maybe after Mthunzi and Mfundo leave?" Me.

"What do they want to talk about, vele?" She asks me.

"They didn't say. I'm just as curious", I say.

"Is it that camp for the players?" She asks me.

"I don't think so. We've all approved it already - after jumping Mfundo's damn hoops", I say.

She laughs.

"Okay, we will wait for them." She says.

She changes from her sneakers to her sleepers.

"I think Noni and Neli must come by this weekend so we can clean the cottage and sort my mom's things. Sbo is getting his weekend out of the facility as well, so it makes sense." She says.

I nod my head. I agree with her.

"And Latifah?" I ask.

"I'll leave her to Noni and Neli", she says without a care in the world.

Eish, this is rough. But, maybe Sbo will be able to manage his sisters and protect his wife. By the way, he doesn't know the theory between the sisters. And if he learns it viciously through the sisters, it's over for Latifah.

I genuinely feel for her. She was overcome by panic. That's my theory. I mean, Fikile panics and phones everyone who could possibly be with me if I don't return her missed calls within thirty minutes. Okay, Latifah should have probably phoned the Mbatha sisters instead of the mother. She made a bad judgment call in a state of panic. It's a bit unfair to say she killed the old lady. Plus, she was old shame. And she's been checked out of life since her husband kicked the bucket. I can completely relate. When Lydia died, I definitely checked out of life. I didn't even believe I could be revived. I slept with different women - sure. But none of them revived me or made me want to love and move on with life. All they did was take care of a temporary erection. And then my Mrs R smiled at me one day at Eastgate. For the first time ever, I felt like someone flicked my heart and caused it to beat again. Fikile's mother was not so lucky. Her heart broke the day her husband died, and she never even wanted it to be fix. Hearing that Sibongiseni was gone or could potentially be gone... what was left of her heart saw its end. I believe she's at peace now... happy to be reconnected to her love. People will like me will have issues when we die. I loved Lydia and I love the hell out of Fikile. In the afterlife, I don't know who I'd find peace with if Fikile and Lydia fought for me. They are both quite strong and they'll probably box each other for me. Maybe in the afterlife, I'll have a polygamous marriage. I laugh to myself just thinking about it.

"PAPA!" I hear feet, chaos and yelling. Clearly, my sons are home.

"KAZI!" They yell for their mother.

"Hello my boys!" Fikile says, kneeling down to receive them into a huge hug.

I actually take a picture of this moment. She's holding them a lot longer and a lot tighter.

"How are you my handsome babies?" Fikile asks them.

"We are good." The three of them say.

Ranwedzi seems to understand why this is happening. He's older than these two and he definitely views himself as the big brother. Gundo's attention span has depleted. He's not in this anymore. Rendani will take any excuse to be close to my wife. He thinks we share her.

"I missed you guys so much. I love you guys so much", Fikile is really not okay.

"Come, tell me about your day", she says as she pulls them to sit on our couch in here.

"Uhm, mama... Uncle Mthunzi and Bhut'Mfundo are downstairs waiting for you and dad", Ranwedzi says. He's the only one who calls Fikile 'mama'.

She sighs.

"Come, my love. We will all catch up after our meeting", I say.

She's not happy.

Fikile has just served us a cheese tray and whiskey. She's having wine.

"Thank you for babysitting my boys. I appreciate this", Fikile says. She's also already thanked Koena.

"You are most welcome", Mthunzi says.

"So, what's up?" Fikile gets to it.

Mfundo begins, "Our financial services pillar is doing really well."

"And congratulations to and Mthunzi you for that. The board is very happy", Fikile.

Mthunzi and I clink our glasses with Mfundo's glass. The boy has done great.

"Our CSI has also picked up really well. I believe our hospital is even becoming a hospital of choice not only for the homelands, but people travel from townships to get help there too." Mfundo.

This is quite a pitch. What does he want?

"I'd like us to think about growing a bit more", he says.

"Growing?" Me.

"Yeah. I know our next plan was a construction pillar. But now that we've bought into Ramaru Holdings, we have a stake in construction. It may not be a hundred percent, but we've diversified that way. I'd like to see how we can open up the financial services scope, branching into banking." He says.

"Banking?!" The three of us say in shock. Even Mthunzi didn't know about this?

"Yeah. Why not? At this point, we have the financial weight to do it. We have the necessary skillset to see it through and we will be diversifying our portfolio a lot more." He says.

He hands us all files.

This kid came prepared.

"Let's maybe go into Thomas' boardroom upstairs?" Fikile suggests.

Mfundo and Mthunzi are already on their feet.

Fikile leads us to the boardroom.

We spend about four hours in here. Fikile kept dipping out to attend to the boys. She bathed them and put them to sleep. Shame, and she really wanted to spend time with them today. But Mfundo is here showing us numbers, projections, budgets, action plans with budgets next to them. He even shows us the completed documents required to open a bank. It will be called NBR: Next Banking Revolution.

After the four hours, he stops talking and answering our questions, then he looks at us, keen to hear out input.

It's safe to say that we are all scared. But we are all also getting a kick out of the thrill that this will come with. After careful and extensive deliberation, we agree. Mfundo is happy.

"But Mfundo, this is happening after your baby is born. Nene needs you and it's okay to take time off and just focus on her right now", Fikile says.

Mthunzi and I look at each other. We kinda need him.

"You are not less of a beast if you take time out for your family. Don't let work become you. You've already achieved your target. You are the youngest CEO of a JSE-listed company, a multinational corporation, and you are only going to achieve more. We all know that it may have come at the expense of your family. So, with immediate effect, Mfundo, you are on paternity leave. You've done the work. Rest now. Be with them. Be a dad. Be a husband." Fikile says.

Koena probably spoke to her. Mthunzi did mention that things are bit tense between Mfundo and Nene right now.

Mfundo gets up and hugs Fikile.

"Ngiyabonga, babekazi." Mfundo says.

"Just name your daughter Fikile, neh", Fikile says, and we all laugh.

In other news, we are about to be bank owners!

...

[babygirlbenji]

Against The World - Jack Grealish

A/N: my first jack imagine!!! my fav brummie hehehe this wasn’t requested so i hope you enjoy. on that note, i will not disclose how many times i’ve watched his goodbye video to villa

It was official.

Jack was moving to Manchester City to pursue his dreams of winning more trophies.

Having been with Jack for almost five years and engaged for nearly a year, you supported him no matter what, but it was still hard to accept that your time at Villa Park was coming to an end. There were goodbye parties to attend hosted by your group of friends, estate agents to consult about selling the house and removals to organise for your move to Manchester. You were so busy that you barely registered your emotions and how much your life was going to change. You were Brummie through and through; Birmingham was your home, and everything you ever knew was in that city.

The week you were moving up to Manchester, you finally found some time in between boxing up the house to sit down and scroll through Instagram.

You came across a video posted by Jack a couple hours beforehand; it was an IGTV of his time at Villa. It detailed his highlights from his 19 years at his boyhood club, from his debut for the first team to being relegated in 2016, from being made captain to being promoted to the Premier League… it was all there, in a four and a half minute long tribute to the club that had his heart. As the video progressed, you didn’t realise you were crying until the end, when you saw Jack crying in the video when Villa were staying in the League. You had supported him through it all, from the relegation to the celebrations of the promotion. The two of you were truly childhood sweethearts.

‘Hey babe have you seen my…’ Jack came in wondering where something was, but seeing you crying on the sofa, surrounded by boxes, made his heart stop. ‘What’s wrong, sweet?’ He dashed over to the sofa and sat next to you, engulfing you in a comforting hug and kissing your head. ‘Talk to me, love, what’s wrong? Is it the fans? Do you want me to make a post asking them to back off?’ You let out a giggle in-between sobs.

‘No, no, it’s not them, it’s that bloody video you posted on Instagram, it’s reduced me to an emotional wreck!’ His chest rumbled with a chuckle.

‘Um, sorry?’ His apology was more of a question. ‘To be fair, I didn’t make it, someone on the media team made it and sent it to me to post.’ You slapped his chest playfully.

‘You cheeky sod, didn’t even make it yourself?!’ The beautiful thing about being with Jack was that even when you were sobbing your eyes out, he could still make you laugh. Your giggles died down, and you leant back and held his face in your hands, lovingly rubbing the scruff on his lower cheeks and chin. ‘I am so proud of you, Jack, I really am. You know as well as I do how hard this has been for us both, how hard this decision was for you, but please know that I will support you no matter what. I wouldn’t have said yes last year if I wasn’t. It’s just… it’s a lot of change. I’m just a bit overwhelmed, I think.’ Your bottom lip quivered. You hated crying, especially in front of him, but he still bundled you into his arms, and you curled up in his lap.

‘I know it’s a lot of change. It is for me, as well, ya know, Birmingham’s me home. I’m gonna miss it so much…’ His voice shook, and you realised then just how hard this decision had been for your fiancé. ‘But I want a new challenge, and City’s going to give that to me. And you won’t be alone, you’ll have Stonesey’s girlfriend, Walks’s girlfriend, Foden’s girlfriend and his little baby, you won’t be by yourself! Far from it!’ His hands rubbed your back soothingly, something he knew always calmed you down. You leaned up to look at him, his brown eyes piercing yours.

‘We’re gonna be okay, yeah?’ Your voice was barely above a whisper. He nodded confidently.

‘We are. You and me, against the world.’ You giggled.

‘Or against Manchester.’

No matter what happened, where you were or who Jack was playing for, you knew you’d be okay, because like you said, it was the two of you against the world.

[hardtchill]

Newbie here. What are the biggest differences between nwsl and wsl? I have only ever watched nwsl but wsl doesn't have play offs right? How is the champion determined and what happens to the teams that end last?

Hiii newbie, hope you have fun this coming season.

The FAWSL has 12 teams who play 22 games a season, but as you said, no play offs. The winner of the league is simply the team who after 22 games has the most points (basically what in the NWSL we call the shield winner). Numbers 1, 2 and 3 in the league also qualify for Champions league football. Easy concept right?

The FAWSL also has relegation, which is different from the NWSL. The last place team after 22 games gets relegated to the 2nd league (FA Women's Championship) while the winner of the championship gets promoted to the FAWSL.

Another difference is the cups. In the NWSL you have the challenge cup but that's very different from the FA cup and the continental cup. The FA cup is a cup with teams from a lot of levels. For example in the quarter finals of last season's tournament a team from the third level (level below Championship) played against West Ham. Basically the FA cup system requires clubs to play in qualifying rounds. Championship (3rd round) and FAWSL (4th round) teams get to skip the first few rounds while the teams from lower levels battle it out in the first few rounds. The FA cup is pretty fun because you can see some really obscure teams play against the top teams and every year there is usually at least one shock knock out of a FAWSL or Championship team.

Conti cup is a cup just for the FAWSL and the Championship. All the teams in the league battle for the Conti cup. They go into a group stage and then onto knock out games.

I think those are the most important differences, but if you got anymore more questions let me know 😀

[blazingparker]

When I’m Like This, You’re the One I Trust

hello my lovelies!! I’m here with the one-shot I wrote as a massive THANK YOU to each and every one of my followers. When I started this, I had just reached 100 followers and now there are even a few more of you! I’m so grateful to each and every one of you, and I really hope you enjoy this fic.

This was inspired by the song Blinding Lights by the Weeknd. The specific stanza is referenced in my author’s note on ao3!

read it on ao3!

---

It wasn’t often that Peter had a sensory overload, but when they did happen, they were...devastating. Physically, mentally devastating.

This was one of those days.

Peter woke up with a pounding headache, every brush against the fabric of his pajamas or his sheets feeling like fire licking along his skin. Tony was apparently making breakfast for them, evidenced by the fact that Peter could hear every clunk of a dish being set on the counter and the crack of an egg that fell into a sizzling pan.

Against his better judgment, Peter cracked open his eyes. The sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows of their bedroom was normally a welcome sight, warming his skin and making him feel like a cat stretching out into the rays. Today, though, it was a blinding assault on his eyes that made him whimper and try to curl away from it, only to be met with more burning sensation from the fabric.

“Good morning, Peter,” FRIDAY greeted him, and the young man actually let out a soft cry at that. The voice, normally bearable, was so incredibly loud that he could barely stand it. He reached his hands up to cover his ears, trying to do something -- anything -- to make it better.

“FRIDAY, activate Spider Shutdown Protocol,” a voice whispered, but to Peter it sounded like a normal volume. FRIDAY didn’t respond verbally to the command, as she was relegated to listening only while the protocol was activated. Immediately, the windows were blacked out and the light blocked from the room. The heater kicked in, since Peter had told Tony once that his inability to thermoregulate seemed even worse when he was like this. Though they made no sound, Peter knew the walls of their bedroom had been soundproofed as well. He wouldn’t have to deal with hearing all the sounds of Avengers tower as people began to wake up and go about their days.

“Hey, my love,” Tony whispered as he carefully sat down on the edge of the bed. “Are we having a bad spider-senses day?” He asked, reaching out as if to smooth his hand down Peter’s back before pulling away, realizing that might not be a good move right now.

“Yeah,” Peter whispered back in a hoarse voice, feeling tears prick at his eyes. “Sorry for ruining breakfast, it was really sweet of you to cook.” He hid his face in the pillow despite the pain it brought him, trying to keep Tony from noticing his tears. His boyfriend knew him better than that, though, picking up on how his voice wavered slightly. He might not be able to see Peter, but he knew him well enough by now to know how he was feeling even without that.

“Honey, no,” he murmured back immediately. “You didn’t ruin anything, hear me? If anything, you saved our frying pan from getting another egg burnt onto it. We’ll eat whenever you’re ready, and not a moment sooner.” Peter relaxed somewhat at that, summoning the energy to scoot closer to Tony in their bed.

“Okay. Thank you,” he whispered. After a few moments of silence, Peter reached out for Tony’s hand. Finding it, he guided it to rest lightly in his hair, sighing softly in happiness as the man began to ever so gently card his fingers through his curls.

“You’re okay with touching?” Tony asked, voice still soft as he continued his motions. Peter instinctively went to nod, but stopped himself and instead just turned his head towards Tony’s voice. He didn’t want to make his headache even worse.

“You, yes,” he clarified. “Anyone else...no.” Tony felt his heart swell at that admission, knowing that he was the one Peter trusted when he was like this. Not anyone else.

“I’m honored,” he said truthfully, smiling down at Peter in the dark. Peter blushed, instinctively turning his face away from Tony as though to hide it, forgetting there was no way his boyfriend could see it in the dark.

The two stayed there for a while, in the dark and in silence. Peter’s headache was still raging but the feeling of Tony’s hand in his hair and the darkness of the bedroom were steadily making things better. He was so grateful for Tony’s endless patience, how there was never a sign of irritation or restlessness. It was like there was nothing Tony would rather do than stay here with Peter - and knowing him, that was probably true.

“How about a bath? We can get those pajamas off you, if they don’t feel good on your skin?” Tony eventually suggested. Peter had complained to him before about the feeling of sheets or clothes on his skin when he was like this, unable to handle the sensation. When everything was too much, even the smallest thing made everything seem all the more unbearable.

“You just want to see me naked,” Peter grumbled back, but the amusement in his voice was clear. Tony huffed out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head.

“It’s too dark for that, Peter. But I won’t deny I always enjoy the view,” he shot back with a wink that his boyfriend couldn’t see. After much playful grumbling, Tony was able to help Peter up and out of their bed and move them to the bathroom.

“Okay, cover your ears, my dear. The water might be too loud. I’m still working on that dampener,” Tony said once they got to the bathroom, gently helping Peter hop up onto the counter and going to start the bath. He added Peter’s favorite bath bomb - eucalyptus and lavender, something Tony had made specially for him. Peter had loved the eucalyptus and mint scent from Bath & Body Works before the spider bite, but afterwards the smell and taste of mint had become unbearable. After mentioning that particular fact to Tony off-handedly one night, the mechanic had traded his Iron Man gauntlets for bath bombs and room sprays, determined to create something Peter would like.

Once the bathtub was filled, Tony turned off the water and immediately returned to Peter’s side. He helped the young man out of his pajamas, FRIDAY wordlessly increasing the lights in the room by just a small percentage so he could see and keep himself from whacking Peter in the face or something.

“In we go,” Tony murmured when they were finally ready for their bath, helping his boyfriend down from the counter and easing the two of them into the warm water. He leaned back against the wall of the tub, pulling Peter into his chest so all he had to feel was the water and Tony’s skin - not cold tile. Peter’s tense, coiled muscles immediately began to relax and the younger man let out a contented sigh.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re the best boyfriend ever?” Peter asked, almost in a daze as he rested in the water with Tony. There was no blinding light, no fire on his skin, no sounds except for the water and their shared breathing. Everything was so much better, and he had Tony to thank.

“Oh, you’re going to want to be careful with those compliments. The team is always bitching about the size of my ego already,” Tony joked, beaming when he earned a small little laugh from the man in his arms.

“Mmm, I’ll beat them up for you. I’ve already stolen Cap’s shield once, I’ll do it again,” Peter mused softly, smiling sweetly when Tony leaned down to kiss his forehead.

“My hero,” Tony murmured back, but his voice had lost all its playfulness in favor of sincerity. He wanted -- no, needed -- Peter to know just how important he was to him. After an episode like this, the younger hero could have a tendency to get in his own head, blame himself for “putting Tony out” or “making Tony deal with him.” The older man was hoping to get ahead of that this time - maybe prevent that guilt from manifesting at all.

“I’m so glad you trust me to take care of you when you’re like this,” he whispered. “I love you so much, Peter. So, so much. Every part of you. Good days and bad days.” Peter twisted in Tony’s arms, looking up at him.

“I love you too,” he said, voice a little stronger now. “Thank you for taking care of me. You-you make it better.” Peter lifted a hand and stroked Tony’s cheek, droplets of water falling into that impeccable goatee.

“I’m so glad to hear that,” Tony said with a soft smile, leaning into the touches on his skin and turning his head to press a soft kiss to Peter’s palm. The two remained there, whispering sweet things to each other and exchanging soft caresses until the water ran cold. Only when Peter started to shiver did Tony dare to move.

“Time to get you nice and warm, and maybe get some food into you. You feeling up to any lights?” He asked, climbing out of the tub and grabbing towels for them both.

“If they’re low, we can try it,” Peter agreed, smiling as he got out and was immediately wrapped in the softest, warmest towel he’d ever felt. FRIDAY brought the lights up just enough so they could see each other but it was far from their normal brightness.

“We’re okay?” Tony asked, drawing Peter into his arms and holding onto him before dropping a kiss to the top of his boyfriend’s hair.

“We’re okay,” Peter murmured back, tucking his face into Tony’s neck and pressing a soft kiss to the skin there. “Thanks to you.”

“Anytime, Peter.” Tony got to work on drying them both off and dressing them both in his clothes. Peter initially wasn’t thrilled, forgetting that Tony’s clothes always felt so much better than his own. His disappointment quickly faded when he was wrapped up in soft fabrics and Tony’s cologne.

“Breakfast?” He asked hopefully, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. Tony finished putting his shirt on and turned to look at him with a smile.

“Sure. What are you feeling?” He asked.

“Toaster waffles?” Peter asked, blushing a little bit as he glanced away. “The chocolate chip ones, maybe?”

“If that’s what my Peter wants, that’s what he shall have,” Tony said with a charming smile and a wink, holding out his hand. Peter smiled shyly back at him, reaching out a hand covered by the sleeve of Tony’s sweater. Their hands clasped together and the smile went from shy to positively radiant.

Sensory overload days were tough, for sure. But Tony always knew how to make them better, and Peter was grateful for that.

[lightrises]

"Only in allowing her to pass..." — Hornet, The Radiance, and the means by which Hallownest turned its victims against each other

A quick note: I read Hollow Knight as an anti-colonialist text. As such I'll be touching on topics related to colonialism as it's depicted in the world of the game, and said analysis will reflect both a sympathetic take on The Radiance and a critique of The Pale King that won't pull its punches. If this sounds up your alley, hello and thank you for the read! Let us be sad about these bugs together.

———

So!! A while back I realized something about pre-canon that felt rather... "curious" is one way to put it, I think. To wit: for all the effort and scheming and determination The Pale King poured into trying to get rid of The Radiance, neither of his plans involved directly killing her.

Was that his long game? Well, sure, that seems clear enough. His tack changed from luring the moths away from their god and creator to a more literal form of incarceration once the infection became a factor, but at its core the end goal never really changed—The Pale King very sincerely wished to destroy Radiance via obsolescence. The Seer lends us foreshadowing to confirm as much:

[Image descriptions: Two screenshots from Hollow Knight, showing the Seer and Ghost in the Seer's alcove at the Resting Grounds. Across both screenshots, the Seer tells Ghost the following: "None of us can live forever, and so we ask those who survive to remember us. Hold something in your mind and it lives on with you, but forget it and you seal it away forever. That is the only death that matters." End description.]

(Which, by the way and given the context, talk about an extremely unsubtle allusion to cultural genocide huh!!! Whew.)

In any case, we're left with a whole bunch of machinations which build up to... well, two very roundabout attempts at committing deicide. That's kind of weird, all things considered! Why not just do the deed in one fell swoop and get it over with?

This could be for any number of reasons. Maybe the king was devoid of the means to instantly kill another higher being. Maybe his personal sense of scruples stopped him short of signing off on MURDER murder (although, y'know, the aforementioned genocide + eternal imprisonment = still cool and copasectic apparently!). Maybe the long drawn-out cruelty was the point. Maybe the idea of playing fuckign 4D chess with the circumstances was too delicious for him to pass up—that man did love to tinker and stick his claws where they sure as hell didn't belong—or maybe it was a little bit of All The Things. Who knows!!

But interrogating The Pale King's methodology on this count isn't what I'm here for, at least not really. The main reason I raise this question at all is that in her own way, Hornet did too.

"I'd urge you to take that harder path... "

See, going by The Pale King's actions and what The White Lady explicitly says, they both foresaw two outcomes wrt the infection: it can be allowed to spread, or it can be contained. At Teacher's Archives, Quirrel acknowledges the fact that Ghost is expected to do... something about this, but he doesn't elaborate on what HE thinks that's supposed to be apart from the obvious "Gotta bust into Black Egg Temple first". Hornet is the one person who presents to us—to Ghost—what's framed as a third option: confront and destroy the infection at its source.

And she doesn't bring it up like it's just another tactic for Ghost to consider, prim and indifferent to what they would do. She nudges them towards it, actively, up to the point where she throws herself into the fray against Hollow at a juncture that's uniquely dangerous to her and her alone just to make that option feasible.

Even when she's couching it in disclaimers that this is still Ghost's decision to make (and let's be fair, she's extremely not wrong about that lol), no one can pretend Hornet is unbiased. It's obvious in that buttoned-down Hornet kind of way that she is way the hell done with the increasingly tenuous stalemate that's kept Hallownest's desiccated corpse from collapsing in on itself. Personally it's hard for me not to read some Toriel Undertale-esque "My father was too entrenched in his own foolishness to pursue any course of action that would have DEFINITIVELY ended this" shade into her stance here, regardless of whether that's strictly true in canon.

And that bit—Hornet's hopes for an end to Hallownest's stasis, moreover her grim calculation of what needs to be done to get there—that's the bit I find super interesting but likewise tragic and depressing as shit, on multiple levels. In no small part because a) canon itself gestures towards Hornet feeling conflicted about the very plan she's pushing, and moreover b) she has at least two (2) damn good reasons to feel that way.

So, what do I mean by that? Let's look here first:

[Image description: A screenshot from Hollow Knight, of Hornet and Ghost inside the Temple of the Black Egg, standing in front of the unsealed egg itself. Hornet has been struck by the Dream Nail and her dialogue is displayed as follows: "... Could it achieve that impossible thing? Should it?" End description.]

As the curtain is about to drop on things one way or another, Hornet thinks,

... Could it achieve that impossible thing? Should it?

Now, looking at that last bit it's easy to go "Oh no, Hornet's worried that Ghost won't survive killing The Radiance!" And I do think that's part of it: Hornet is, categorically, not her father. By endgame it's clear she's not content to view her Void-borne siblings as tools to be used then disposed of. She's also well aware that as a healthy autonomous Vessel amongst the countless dead, Ghost is the only person left alive who has a fighting chance against The Radiance. Knowing someone is the only qualified candidate for the job doesn't make encouraging them to embrace a probable death sentence any less of a bitter pill to swallow, though. And odds are on that this sentiment extends to Hollow too, who IS going to die no matter what happens here. To put it bluntly, it's more than reasonable to conclude that Hornet hates the absolute fuck out of this.

But I don't think that's all there is to it either. Remember what I said earlier about The Pale King's bids for genocide? Well, it's not like the man deigned to limit his efforts to just the moth tribe.

"We do not choose our mothers... "

On top of everything else—an infected Hallownest being all she's ever known, the fact that she only exists because of the infection, the list goes on—Hornet has spent her life wedged into a position that's been uncomfortable and terminally unglamorous at best: she is both a daughter of her father's kingdom and of Deepnest.

Deepnest, which like the moths and many others was here long before the wyrm and his lady wife swanned onto the scene and the God Become Bug laid claim to everything the Light touched plus a considerable amount of change. THAT Deepnest, which has fought claw and thread to retain its sovereignty against same-said settler king, and for which Herrah not only surrendered her life but also agreed to bed her worst enemy, all in hopes of securing a viable future for her people (put a pin in that last part by the way, I'll come back to it soon).

Two Worlds, One Family (Ft. An Indigenous Woman Trying Her Damndest To Work With What She's Got Versus An Imperialist Who Only Signed Up For This Because He Needed The Political Favor THAT Badly, So It's The Height Of Dysfunctional Actually). Fun times!!!!

The baggage this entails for Hornet is gnarly enough without implications made by The White Lady and the pre-canon timeline of events and even Team Cherry's dev notes that the king may well have looked at baby Hornet, gone "YOINK", then ensured she spent the lion's share of her childhood reared within the pearly auspices of his Pale Court*. That would be rather advantageous for Him Specifically after all, the potential to mold a born foe into a future ally and even have her trained in combat under the same tutelage as her doomed sibling. And far be it from him to stop a grown Hornet—his own flesh and blood too!—from making Deepnest her forever home if she so pleased. He totally wouldn't be reneging on his "fair bargain made" by doing this one simple thing until Hornet came of age, not t e c h nic c a l l y.

If that is indeed the case, there's a non-zero chance Hornet's formative years were a hot mess of cultural alienation and being a good deal more privy than most to just how much of a bastard her father could be. There's an equally non-zero chance that at some point she stood or sat within earshot as The Pale King finally, finally dropped all pretense and euphemism to name the Light for precisely what (for who) it was.

See, in conjunction with the question that started this whole dang train of thought I've been asking this one too: Does Hornet know? When she speaks of confronting "the heart of [the] infection" does she know she's talking about not just a literal person but someone very specific? The Radiance, who god though she may be shares skin in the game alongside Hornet as a native woman screwed over by the same settler king, likewise deprived of her kin and saddled with a life gone horrendously pear-shaped?

I'll assume for the sake of exploring the possibility and because I think it's a likely one anyway that yes, Hornet does know. She knows, and despite everything can't help empathizing. She might even look at Radiance and see bits and pieces both reflected and slightly inversed in her own mother: Radiance was forced to the sidelines while her people—her children, the brood she was meant to lead and care for—died out under The Pale King's rule, and it's no stretch to assume she's at least as upset about that as she has been about everything else; Herrah too took drastic measures for her people's sake, trying to head off annihilation by relegating herself to the sidelines in an act that was as much calculated risk as an attempt to find wiggle room and leverage in the face of a nasty proposition.

A calculated risk that, if things continue as they are, might well amount to nothing as the rest of Deepnest gets eaten alive by the infection. It survived The Pale King's advances for so so long, only to fall here. Herrah's sacrifice would be for naught; the other tribes—themselves the king's victims—would keep succumbing to the infection too.

And this is where things fall apart.

"... or the circumstance into which we are born."

Let's be clear: I think Hornet is wise enough to know what's what here, that all the carnage and suffering falls on her father's head for starting this slow-motion trainwreck in the first place. Hallownest wasn't always Hallownest. This domain was Radiance's home first, along with many others. It was the worm-turned-king who rolled up on the scene unsolicited and decided this was a ""'problem""" that had to be """solved""".

But the fact of the matter is that he's gone and The Radiance is here, raging, seemingly inconsolable. Above and beyond being Deepnest's rightful heir, Hornet isn't in a position to countenance more splash damage even if the grief and fury fueling it makes perfect sense. She can understand without ever bringing herself to love Radiance, and she can bend her knee to practicality even if she hates the everloving shit out of it because the fact that it "has" to end this way isn't fair.

This lends itself to one last awful conclusion: that Hornet has probably considered and (rightly or wrongly) discarded the possibility that Radiance can be saved, at least not without dragging more collateral along for the ride. If even her mother and every other enemy to the king seemed to dismiss talking Radiance down as an option way back when... well. Why should Hornet hope for any better after things have escalated so far?

Again, it's practical. A practical net good is what Hornet strives for. And again, it fucking sucks.

For extra tragedy points, this makes Hornet's extended crypticness around Ghost followed by her last minute casting about for a reason to tell them "Wait, don't; not just yet" that she never voices even more of a gut punch. She can't bring herself to burden Ghost with the context that haunts her so, least of all when it might weaken their resolve to go through with what (she thinks) needs doing.

It's the "same song, different verse" which led to the mantis tribe and Deepnest being pitted against each other: Hallownest rigged the game so that two women who could have been powerful allies—who have a mutual vested interest in driving out settler rule—wound up poised as enemies instead. And how awful is that? The king for all his being extremely fucking dead still gets the last laugh, because outside of a miracle the game never manifests Hornet can salvage what her mother started and look forward to a future where Deepnest pulls itself back from the brink if and only if The Radiance dies.

Resolution comes at the price of a completed genocide. Add two more dead siblings to the unconscionable pile thereof, while we're at it. That's what it boils down to whether or not Hornet can bear to articulate it as such, and there's no grace or even a properly bittersweet ending to wring from this clusterfuck. And that is rough.

———

* This has been better explained elsewhere, but a quick rundown: The White Lady tells Ghost that Hornet and Herrah "were permitted little time together." On its surface this can be taken to mean that Hornet was still very young when Herrah was shipped off to Eternal Dreamland—except this doesn't jive with the fact that we meet Hornet as an adult. If the stasis kicked in once the Dreamers went to their rest, which in turn halted the aging process for every living bug in Hallownest, AND before all this Hornet experienced little by the way of quality time with her birth mother... I think you can see where I'm going with this.

To top it off we've got Team Cherry weighing in ominously from their dev notes on Herrah: "As part of the agreement for her alliance and her role as a dreamer, King gave her a child (Hornet). Was she allowed to keep this child or was she taken away?" This isn't confirmation by itself of course, but given additional canon details (see above): Can I get a "yikes" in the chat fellas.

[purpleyin]

Iris (from The Flash) for the character opinion bingo?

Iris had so much potential but canon squandered a lot of it. They could have done great things with her reporter arc if they'd actually taken that part of her character setup more seriously and not forgotten about it for long stretches of time. For some reason even what they did with her blog > job at CCPN sort of petered out after S2, with S3 too much about the threat to her life (and not even really dealing properly with how that affected her either). By the time they made more efforts to do something with her reporting later on it felt like them skipping ahead and doing more tell than show. We just didn't get consistent development and that sucks.

Another way the creators let her down was they rarely seem to let her deal with all the big things happening, and her viewpoint on events is too often missing or not given due thought or time by the writers, relegated to supporting others and not getting much of her own support when she needs it. I also get really frustrated about any fights they write with her and Barry, because the writers aren't good at those and don't seem to think about how the audience is biased to side with Barry. They needed to be more careful about how things come off/how they frame things, because it just feels like they pit the audience against her a lot of the time. And the writers keep falling back to creating drama with kind of lazy plots that consist of separating her from the team/threatening her life, usually without her getting that much to do and taking away her agency. So yeah, they don't seem to know what to do with her half the time and it feels like they rarely make effective use of her screentime to further her character, as opposed to others, which is a shame for Candice.

I understand why people say her current CCC stuff doesn't feel earned for her character due to the lack of consistent development, but I think the only way to deal with plotholes there is to go with a best faith interpretation based on her character's potential and fill things in with headcanons. I see people do that all the time with the not good/weird writing choices for other characters on the show but for predictable reasons fandom tends to unfairly hold her character to a much higher standard and not give her a pass there. :/

When I think about Iris moments I'd enjoyed best I think most were her teaming up with others. Iris & Cisco, Iris & Ralph, Iris & Linda, family moments, the list goes on. I'm not sure if that's partly a symptom of the writers not knowing how to do stuff for her alone well though. Her team-ups have usually seemed more interesting to me but that might just be because Candice has great chemistry with a lot of people and good comedic timing when they give her moments like that.

TL;DR her character (and actor) deserved a whole lot better, but at least there's always fanfic and headcanons.

[winterscaptain]

dead man’s hand.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

a/n: our 52 pickup ajf episode! i dunno about yall, but i was so excited to get my hands on viper in this universe. he’s ridiculous, and i think he deserves to be absolutely put to shame by aaron “BDE” hotchner. 

a joyful future fic, but requires little context. 

words: 5k warnings: canon-typical misogyny, language, improper comm conduct, emily prentiss: lesbian icon™

summary: your first case back to full duties after your injury at the septarian ranch just had to take you undercover, didn’t it?

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!

You’re happy to be back in your usual plane seat, just to the left of Aaron, with your notes in your lap. With your arm in the sling, you were relegated to the table, in Derek’s usual spot beside Rossi, to discourage you from slouching. It was Hotch who suggested it, of course, but that didn’t help your pride. 

Though your sling is gone and you’re back where you belong, your shoulder still twinges a little from time to time. 

As it happens, a twinge hits you right as Rossi asks, “How does our unsub go from loser of the year to Don Juan?”

While Spencer answers him, Hotch glances over at you. You wave him off. I’m fine, Hotch. 

He sighs and you both tune back in to Spencer. “...Don Juan was an ironic reversal of sex roles and when -” Spencer looks at Hotch, finding something in his face that usually made you laugh, but stops Spencer in his tracks. “Th-That’s about it.” 

You suppress your smile as Hotch refocuses the group. “Something must have happened between the last prostitute and Vanessa Holden, making him change his victimology.” 

“Could the unsub have known Vanessa?” Jordan’s question almost surprises you. She’s still settling in, but you’re learning she doesn’t hesitate to freely share her opinion. 

Hotch hesitates, as if waiting for someone else to answer. You oblige him, leaning around Dave a bit to see her better. “It’s unlikely.” 

Derek picks up your thought. “Yeah, sexual sadists attack anonymously”

“They have to sever a personal connection and see their victims as objects to perpetrate this level of torture.” Spencer softens your quick rebukes with a little closed-mouth smile. 

You spare a glance for Hotch and he raises his eyebrows for a split second before they drop back down. Your elbow makes contact with his arm, and you press into him for a second. Be nice. 

He huffs a light breath through his nose as Prentiss and Rossi bounce off each other. I am being nice. 

Then, as though your silent sidebar never existed, he jumps back in. “The victimology is so different, we’ll treat them as separate unsubs and see what overlaps.” He makes assignments, finally rounding out by assigning Derek, you, Jordan, and himself to the victim’s family. 

+++

Todd’s initiative continues to take you by surprise long after you land. She takes command of the situation at the precinct, and there are a couple of times where you can feel Hotch shift his weight. 

He’s uncomfortable. 

When Jordan leaves the room, you turn to the side and he leans in. “If you’re going to pull her, do it quietly. Something tells me she’s adverse to public criticism.” 

He nods, just a little, and you return to your former posture. 

The house is where things get really sticky. 

“Mrs. Holden,” she says, “we can’t begin to fathom the loss you’ve suffered.” 

You nudge Hotch with your shoulder (ouch) and he uncrosses his arms. Loosen up for a minute, would you?

“No, that’s right. You can’t.” Mrs. Holden’s tone is sharp, and you can’t help but feel for her - the stuff Garcia sent over was awful. A daughter, dead, and forums full of people saying you had it coming. Ugh. 

“But, um…” Jordan steps up, and you narrow your eyes a little. 

What is she doing? 

“I lost my older sister in a car crash.” You can feel Derek’s brow furrow as he checks in with Hotch. Aaron has yet to move and, as usual, his face gives nothing away to anyone except you. Something’s wrong. “And it was really hard on our family because she was the responsible one. She was the one that my mother always counted on to watch over us.” 

Your eyes flicker to Hotch’s profile, and you find his mouth a touch tighter, his eyes infinitesimally narrower.

Uh oh. 

We know that look. 

Again, what is she doing? 

“And when she died, my mother wouldn’t let the police in. If she didn’t let them in, then my sister wasn’t really dead.” Jordan leans in closer, as if her next words are a secret. “This man is a monster,” Aaron straightens with an inhale, and you feel yourself wind tighter and tighter as he does. You have no idea what you’re upset about yet, but you’re sure it's something. “...and we can catch him, but we need your daughter’s help.”

The mother turns on Derek in an outburst of pre-emptive anger. He very kindly de-escalates the situation, ever the voice of reason and empathy. Hotch takes another breath as Mrs. Holden turns to invite you further into the house. Jordan checks in with Derek before following her, almost smug. 

Aaron’s brows are drawn when you look at him again. Derek asks the question you’ve been waiting for. “Did you know that about Jordan?”

“No,” he says. “And neither did she. According to her file, she’s an only child.” Hotch walks away immediately, letting his implicit accusation hang in the air between you. 

You share a look with Derek. 

+++

“The information about Vanessa Holden being the responsible sister, where did you get that?”

You try to stay a little ahead of them, but Derek has no qualms about openly eavesdropping, turning over his shoulder. 

Her tone is matter-of-fact. “Some of it was online, and some of it was just an educated guess based on birth order.”

Still facing forward, you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, as if bracing yourself for impact. 

“A guess.” Hotch’s question is flat and hardly a question at all. You almost cringe. Derek hops up beside you, much less interested in snooping now. 

Shit. You’re in it now, kid. 

‘Kid.’ Gimme a break she’s like...two years younger than you.

Yeah, but on this team, it’s dog years. The divorce alone had to be at least a decade.

“And in the process, you lied.” 

There it is. 

“That mother was shut down. I needed to salvage some rapport.” The note of defensiveness in Jordan’s tone pulls a sigh from you, and you can almost anticipate Hotch’s response. If pressed, you could recite it verbatim. 

“I don’t know how you did things in counter-terrorism, but we don’t make it a habit to lie to get the job done.” They stop walking, but you don’t, pulling Derek by the sleeve of his Henley before he can hesitate. 

“Let’s wait by the car,” you tell him. He gives you an expression that only says yikes. You reply with one of your own. 

As you approach the back door, you hear, “I got you in the door, didn’t I?” from Jordan.

Oh babe. Put the shovel down. This hole you’re digging for yourself is becoming unmanageable, and we’re all going to have to deal with his grumpy ass for the rest of the afternoon if you don’t quit. 

Derek leans against the door of the car, and you follow his lead, leaning against the back bumper. 

“Not only do you represent the FBI, you represent this team - ”

Ah, so it's the “representing the team with integrity” speech today.

 “ - to the press, the police, and to the families who are struggling with some of the hardest times of their lives. If you get caught in a lie, the trust we depend on to help solve these crimes disappears.” You inhale, sharp. It’s been a minute since you’ve heard that tone. “Do I make myself clear?” 

Yikes. 

Jordan, looking significantly chastised, answers, “It won’t happen again.” 

“No, it won’t.” 

Alright, that one pulls a smile from you and you do your best to bite back your laugh. Derek’s in the same boat. You both hope to recover by the time they get back to the car. A fit of giggles will do you absolutely no good at this point. 

“When we get back, I want you to prepare a press release about the unsub. Do not release it.” His phone rings, and he reaches for it, adding “From now on, everything goes through me.”

He passes you without meeting your eye, talking to Rossi over the phone. Jordan approaches you, and asks, “So how bad did I just screw up?”

You take a breath before answering. “Well, Derek would tell you on a normal scale of one to ten, probably about a six.” 

“I have a feeling that’s not the scale we’re using.”

You shake your head and open the door. “On Hotch’s, that was about an eleven.” 

The three of you slide into the car. You take the seat behind Derek, sparing Aaron from having Jordan in his peripheral vision while he’s trying to focus on not crashing the car. 

+++

“Hotch,” Emily says, getting your attention and Aaron’s. You both turn. “Of the self-described pickup artist classes in the area, there’s only one guy who encourages his students to dress like, uh..” she searches for a word for a second, “space cowboys.” 

A laugh escapes you, but you recover quickly. You glance at Hotch, an apology in your eyes.

Emily’s tone matches your mirth. “Are you ready to meet Viper?”

+++

The four of you lurk at the back of the room, listening to Viper’s sermon while trying not to laugh out loud again. 

“...and women, while they won’t admit it, want to be hunted. They need it.” 

You look up at Hotch. You’ve got to be kidding me. 

He doesn’t look at you, but the twitch of his mouth gives him away. 

You turn your attention back to Viper, who’s assertions are so far gone from reality you can’t even believe people paid for this. He goes on and on about the ideal mate, what women want, etc. etc. etc. 

This guy has never gotten laid in his life. 

Hotch nudges you with his shoulder as if he can hear you thinking, and you drop your eyebrows, setting your mouth in a tight line that could give him a run for his money. 

Emily’s losing it beside you, too. She and Derek have shared more than a few glances, and there’s no hiding the incredulous look on her face. 

“If you are smarter and more interesting, you will be a better predator -”

You keep your face from screwing up in a wince, but only just. Poor choice of words, there. 

“- because this is the jungle, my friends, and your prey wants to be caught.”

Derek doesn’t shift his gaze as he asks, quietly, “Would you listen to that language?”

You lean around Emily, whispering, “He’s training serial killers.” 

“Great,” Emily says. “We’re dealing with a rampant narcissist and misogynist who's turned himself into a snake oil salesman.” 

Yeah, that about sums it up. 

You both look at Hotch, who’s still watching carefully. “Just one more thing he has in common with our unsub.” 

At the end of the lecture you all stay where you are: four dark and intimidating figures irresistible to someone with an ego as big as Viper’s.

When he inevitably advances on you, Aaron introduces the team present and explains the situation in an even, measured tone. He doesn’t have to change a single thing about his presentation for the Viper to size him up and compensate accordingly. He doesn’t even acknowledge you or Emily in his futile effort to make Aaron feel small, counting on his own peacocking to do the job. 

That was your first mistake.

“So you think this - what did you call him - unsub took my class?”

With one hand in his pocket and another on his belt, Aaron replies. “He copied your ‘the camera adds ten pounds’ routine verbatim.” 

Viper has the audacity to look pleased. “Yeah. That’s a good gag.”

“If you could just give us your attendance lists, it might help us find him,” Emily says. 

You nod. “Any information you can provide would be helpful.”

“No.” 

Your eyebrows shoot to your hairline, and Emily beats you to a response, her tone appalled. “No?”

He’s decidedly smug now. You’ve never seen a face so well-suited for a punch. “My clients expect a certain amount of confidentiality. I won’t compromise that.” 

“We can come back with a warrant.” Aaron’s quick, flat rebuttal almost makes you smile. Viper ignores him, shifting his slimy attention to you.

You watch Viper take you in from head to toe, resisting the urge to squirm under his gaze. With a deep breath, you straighten your shoulders and ever so slightly put more weight on your right foot, keying you in to Aaron. When Viper meets your gaze again, he looks more than a little annoyed. 

“Be my guest, but keep in mind, the money I make doesn’t just pay for my fabulous lifestyle,” he turns to Emily again, “it also keeps very expensive lawyers on retainer.”

You redirect, hoping to catch him off guard. “What club did you go to last night?”

It doesn’t work. He eyes you up and down again. It’s disgusting. 

“It’s a legitimate question,” Derek says. “You seem to know a lot about our investigation.”

He turns on Derek, and you settle in for the show. “Two things to learn about me. First, I outwit alpha males like you for fun and sometimes profit.” You snort, but he doesn’t spare a glance at you. “How often do you have to rely on your badge to score, baldy?”

Aaron huffs a laugh, and it’s so quiet you’re almost sure you made it up. 

“Second,” he continues, turning to Emily again. “Last night, I was at Club Aqua and I have a stack of tax-deductible drink receipts to back up my story.” 

She shrugs, unimpressed. 

Emily Prentiss, you are my hero. 

You really tune in when his gaze finds Aaron, still standing a good two or three inches taller than Viper in far more expensive shoes. “Now, you might not want to believe that my style works.” You can tell Aaron’s trying to keep from smiling, his head tilted down at a condescending angle. “And here, in this harsh light, you have the advantage.” 

He has the advantage in every light. 

Shut up. 

It’s true, isn't it?

Viper steps up to you, uncomfortably close, and you do what you can to keep the grimace off your face. “But meet me on my turf…” He laughs a little and turns to Emily. It’s revolting. “The things I could make you do.”

The things Aaron could do on any turf, any time, any light -

Quit! Focus! 

Aaron steps between you and Viper. You gladly take advantage of the distance, moving just off Aaron’s shoulder. “If you have any questions, give us a call.” 

Viper’s eyes don’t move from Emily as he takes Aaron’s card. She sizes him up for a moment before turning around, still completely unimpressed. 

Down the hallway, she keeps pace with Hotch. “Please tell me we’re not giving up on that guy.” 

“We’re just getting started.” 

You can tell he’s irritated and tense, but there’s an air of smug amusement that colors his countenance. The lawyer has tricks up his sleeve, it seems. 

When you leave the building, you turn on Derek. 

“What the fuck was that?”

To everyone’s surprise, Aaron, putting his sunglasses on, answers. “Compensation.”

You try not to dwell on that implication for too long, barking a laugh with Emily.

+++

“Hey, Hotch.” You turn around, exposing your half-unzipped dress and bare upper back. “Can you zip me up?” He crosses the room and zips your dress, doing his best to avoid savoring the warmth of your skin under his fingers as he links the hook-and-eye closed. “Thanks.” You turn and he’s a little closer than you expected, looking at you with a peculiar, unreadable expression in his eyes. 

There’s silence for a moment and neither one of you moves. No matter how often it occurred, close proximity to Aaron always did weird things to your heart rate. You take a deep breath to steady yourself and return to the locker for a set of loud silver bracelets. 

“You’d tell me if you were uncomfortable with this, right?”

You clasp two of the bracelets around your wrist and turn back toward him. A little laugh leaves you. “I’m fine, Hotch.” You wordlessly hold your last two bracelets out, unable to secure them with your non-dominant hand. With a fond sigh, he crosses over to you and takes your wrist.

“Emily told me you’d both be alright and she’s handled people like this before, but this guy…” He trails off with a bit of sigh. 

“I’ve handled worse than him. Guys like Viper were a dime a dozen in college,” You shrug, watching him deftly handle the tiny clasps in his large hands. “Plus, you’ll be in my ear the whole time.” He reaches past you for your necklace and you turn around so he can put it on. He smells incredible and you can't help but close your eyes for a moment. 

“I have a good feeling we’ll be able to get somewhere tonight.”

You turn around again, smiling up at him. “I agree.” Thinking for just a second, you add, “Hotch, did you consider putting Jordan on this?”

“I did,” he says, his fingers reaching for the bridge of his nose. “Emily suggested it as well. I’m just not confident in her ability to complete surveillance in such a high-risk environment.” 

“Because of her mistake today?” You pass him and close the door to the room, ensuring the exclusion of prying eyes and ears. 

He removes his hand from his face and looks at you, playing at exhaustion. Of course.

You let all your breath out through your nose and you carry on as if you were explaining to a child. “She can’t recover if you don’t give her an opportunity.” You lighten up, adding, “Do you remember how many times I screwed up my first couple of months?” A wry smile crosses your face. 

He huffs and crosses his arms. “That’s different.” 

“Why? Because I was a NAT?” 

“No, you -” He takes a second to collect his thoughts, his brow furrowed. He gestures with a sharp, open hand as he speaks. “You made mistakes, but you never misrepresented yourself. I’m concerned about her conduct in the field.” 

“Send her out with us tonight.” Your appeal is casual, easy. “Emily and I will keep an eye on her and make sure she keeps her nose clean.” All things considered, Jordan isn’t much of an issue. She’s just green and (you’re sure) accustomed to a decidedly less-upright unit chief. 

“Are you comfortable with that?”

“Of course. Give her a chance, Hotch. We’ll be fine.” 

He nods, ready to leave the room, but then looks down at your wrist with a small, almost amused, frown. “Is that…?”

“The Dead Man’s Hand? Yeah.” You turn your wrist, revealing a pair of eights and aces - both clubs and spades, with the queen of hearts between them - inlaid in the silver. “I figured it was appropriate, if not entirely tasteless.” 

“Clever.” 

+++

You can tell Jordan’s forgotten about the comm in her ear when she leans over and whispers, “How do you do it?”

“Do what?” You keep your eyes on the crowd, lips barely moving as you keep a demure smile on your face. A guy without a chance in hell catches your eye and you break him with just a quick softening of your eyes and a wider smile. Luckily, he’s so flustered he doesn’t think to approach you.

She takes a fake sip of her drink. “You and Hotch get along really well, and I haven’t managed to get on his good side once since I’ve been here. How do you do it?”

“I have no idea.” There’s a small crackle in your ear, and you know Aaron tuned into your private channel to hear you better and talk to you alone. For his benefit, you add, “I’m not sure he has a good side, if that helps.” 

You hear a scoff and have to hide your laugh in your drink. 

Jordan shakes her head. “You’re kidding, right?”

“What?”

“He definitely has a good side -” 

“Thank you,” Hotch says into your ear. You cough to hide another laugh. 

“- and you’re on it.” 

You open your mouth to reply, but catch the eye of someone who looks unfortunately familiar. “You’ve got to be joking.”

Hotch’s chuckle in your ear warms you, and you hear a crackle as he switches back to the team channel. “20 on Viper,” he says. “Keep an eye out for our unsub.” 

Emily wilts beside you, and you can’t help but laugh. You pull Jordan a little off to the side so you’re able to hear Viper, but he doesn’t feel closed in. “You always want to give guys like this an out - if they’re backed into a corner and feel trapped, they close off and get defensive.” 

A crackle in your ear. “Is that so?”

Jordan nods and you can’t reply to Hotch with any degree of subtlety, so you settle for rolling your eyes. 

“Well.” You hear Viper from over your shoulder. Jordan cringes, and your brow pulls in a question. “Lucky me.”

She answers, narrating through a squint. “He just put his finger in his mouth and pulled it out a little too slow.” 

“Ugh.” You take a fake sip of your drink. “I hate this guy.” 

“I thought you said you could handle him?” Aaron’s voice in your ear almost makes you jump, and you almost turn around to smack him before realizing he’s not even there. 

Bastard. 

Emily sends some sort of wisecrack flying over Viper’s head. She’s so charming, you can’t blame him for immediately falling head-over-dick for her. 

“...So, affection, sex, emotional committment, it’s all just for fun?”

Against your will, your thoughts wander. You’re still listening, tuned in to his linguistic profile - the pattern, the rhetoric, the cadence, sure - but your heart pulls when you hear Emily list those three things. A sigh leaves you and of course you’re thinking of Aaron. 

You’re such a child. Don’t be an idiot. 

“You okay?” 

Of course he’s asking. 

You turn away from Jordan, looking out on the rest of the club so you can answer. “I’m fine.” 

“Need a break?”

You are feeling a little boxed-in, and as long as he’s offering… “Yeah, actually. That would be great. I just need some air.” You turn back to Jordan. “I’ll be right back - stay with Emily.” 

“But wait,” she says, holding your arm with gentle fingers, “we shouldn’t split up.”

“I just need a minute outside, Jordan, I’ll be alright.” You smile at her, small and warm, and escape her grasp. Slipping out one of the side doors, you prop it with a doorstop and lean against the wall. Your eyes fall closed, and you take a minute to breathe in the cold air. 

You hear your name in your ear, and you yank your earwig out. It's still close enough for you to hear the team if anyone needed you, but Aaron’s voice in your ear at this very moment isn’t helping with the whole “take a minute” thing. 

“Hey, I’m talking to you.” 

I thought I took that damn thing out - oh. 

Aaron rounds the corner and leans on the wall beside you. “You okay?”

You nod. “Fine. My shoulder’s just bugging me a little.” 

“Any more lies you want to share before I call you on them?” 

“No.” In fairness, your shoulder was bothering you, but it wasn’t the thing bothering you. That thing, in fact, was standing beside you with his kevlar on, waiting patiently for you to continue. “I’m just out of shape, is all.” You tilt your head a little. “And my shoulder really does hurt.” 

He guides you off the wall so you’re standing in front of him, your back to him. “What have you been doing in PT?”

“Muscle work, mostly. Keeping things loose so it heals without limiting my mobility.” You roll your shoulder, ignoring the flood of pain that zings down your fingertips. 

Warm hands find their way to your shoulder over the fabric of your dress. You picked something long-sleeved and high-necked, figuring the angry scarring from your still-healing gunshot wound would adversely affect your objective. You take deep breaths as he works at the muscle, releasing the little knots that built up through the day. He finds a bit of scar tissue, and a little yelp leaves you before you can stop it. 

His hands soften, but don’t stop. “Hang in there. Just a little more and it’ll take some pressure off the nerve.” He trades his thumbs for the tips of his fingers, walking over the knots with a methodical practicality that pulls at your chest.

You nod, knowing he’s right. Lo and behold, a few seconds later, the knot releases, sending a flood of warmth, followed by pins and needles down your arm. You flex and contract your hand in and out of a fist a couple of times, hoping to rid yourself of the sensation. 

“It’ll stop in a second.” He rubs his hands together, warming them up with the friction before passing over the back of your shoulder with a firm, steady pressure, all the way down your arm to your fingers. The heat of his hands really does help - your nerves calm almost immediately, and you can feel your pinkie for the first time in days. 

A little laugh leaves you. “I dunno why I keep going to PT when you’re right here.” You turn and offer him a soft smile. “Thank you.”

“Feeling better?”

No. 

“Much.” 

He offers you a small smile in return. “Good.” 

+++

You’re changing back into your work clothes with Emily and Jordan, pleased to find them full of laughter. 

“When you asked him if he practices his routine on a sex doll, I almost lost it.” Jordan looks over her shoulder at Emily as she clips her holster back onto her belt. 

“I did lose it, are you kidding?” You laugh. “I can’t believe I missed it!” 

Emily shakes her head, smiling. “You know, as much as I hate what that guy stands for, I still read ‘five ways to get noticed’ in Cosmo magazine.”

“Because it makes sense.” You look at Jordan, waiting for an explanation. She redeemed herself tonight, and you’re actually looking forward to hearing what she has to say. Though she doesn’t explain what she means, she does thank you both for vouching for her. 

“Absolutely.” Emily looks past Jordan, at you, and you nod in agreement. 

“Of course.” 

A knock sounds, and Aaron’s voice shoots around the corner. “I need you all out here, the unsub’s kidnapped another victim.” 

Shit. 

+++

You’re on Aaron’s six, waiting for the go. He calls the first team into position and holds up his hand. When he drops it, you fall into step, just off his right shoulder. Derek breaches first, tackling the unsub to the floor. 

Aaron kicks down the front door, and you breach from the other side of the house. There’s shouting everywhere, but Aaron’s presence centers you, giving you a mission and a focus. 

Keep him safe. 

He releases you with a wave, and you drop down next to Spencer on the floor. You cut the tape holding Austin’s hands together. She falls into Spencer, still terrified and sobbing. He looks at you and you nod, spotting her as he helps her to her feet. 

Tracking back to Aaron, you shadow Rossi as they finish clearing the rest of the house. You hover by the final door as Dave and Aaron reassure the unsub’s mother that she’ll be taken care of as they clear the room for hidden threats. 

In fact, there’s nothing except a sick woman and the machine keeping her alive.

“It’s a dialysis pump...It was issued ten months ago.” Dave looks back at you, and your lips press into a thin line. 

You look at Aaron. “Our secondary trigger.” 

+++

Jordan climbs the stairs to Aaron’s office, and you attempt to hide your interest as she knocks on the door and steps in. Of course, you can’t hear them, but you watch him call her back after she hands in her report. 

You recognize the look on his face - it's an expression you’re rewarded with when you’ve done something right. In fairness, it doesn't look much different from the one you get when you’ve done something wrong, but you’ve learned to pick up on the subtle differences.

Jordan leaves his office with a little smile. When she passes you, you offer her a, “Well done,” as you stand and climb the stairs yourself. 

With a knock on Aaron’s door, he beckons you in without looking. You stand a respectable distance away from his desk, waiting for him to finish whatever he’s working on. He knows it’s you, and has no issue keeping you waiting.

The composition of his desk has changed in the months since the divorce. Haley no longer smiles at him from the frame by his pen cup. That frame sits on the low shelf by his law volumes, the white veil over Haley’s face unable to mask her joy even from across the room. 

There are more pictures of Jack than before, both old and new. 

Eventually, he looks up, and you hand him your report. A smile plays at your lips, and another dances around the corner of his eyes. 

“That was kind of you, Hotch.” 

He shrugs. “You vouched for her work.” 

“Is that all it takes to win your approval, these days? My good word?” Your voice is laden with fond amusement. He rises to it, and if you didn’t know better you’d think he wasn’t smiling. When he answers, his tone is light, almost playful. 

“Yes.”

+++

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[justthehiddleswrites]

Destiny Has Other Plans | Loki x OFC | Chapter 7

Pairing: Loki x OFC

MASTERLIST IS HERE

Summary: When Loki goes to ask his father for permission to marry, he is shocked to discover his destiny has already been made for him.  He is already betrothed to Sjofn, the daughter of the King of Vanaheim.  An arranged marriage to bring the two kingdoms closer together and strengthen the bond.  Never mind that Sjofn and Loki can’t stand each other.  

After The Battle of New York, Loki is sent to live at Avengers Tower as punishment for his misdeeds.  But it doesn’t mean he has to like it.   A year later, he has adjusted to life on Midgard but has avoided any romantic or emotional entanglements, still bitter over his lost love.  Dr. Alexis Randall is skilled at helping others fix their relationships as a couple therapist, but can’t help her own love life.  A chance encounter with Loki in a dive bar has life altering consequences for both of them.  Now, Alexis and Loki must figure out a way to co-habit without killing each other in the process, plus navigating impending parenthood and other roadblocks along the way.

This Chapter: Loki will do whatever it takes to find out what is wrong with Alexis. 

Warnings: Arranged Marriage, Forced Marriage, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, Smut, Angst,  Semi-Public Sex, Mentions of law enforcement, Oral Sex, Cursing, Vaginal Sex

Taglists are Open, please let me know if you wish to be added.

-

Alexis groaned as the medics lifted her onto the gurney, but she didn’t wake.

“Take care with her!” Loki snapped at them, rushing to Alexis’s side, grabbing her limp hand. “She is pregnant.”

The medics shared a glare fully prepared to inform him they knew how to do their job when Tony caught their eye and waved them off. Best not to make Loki any more angry than he was. At least not until they sorted Alexis.

“Of course, sir.” The taller of the two nodded at Loki. “We are heading down Dr. Cho. I assume you are riding down with us?”

Loki nodded and followed them to the elevator. The eyes of every Avengers followed the three of them along with the gurney and willed the elevator doors to ding close. The moment the doors closed, Tony spun around to face the room.

“Okay, everyone has exactly three seconds to explain WHAT THE HELL is going on?”

The room exploded into conversation as people pointed fingers and yelled accusations and theories. Steve, Tony and Bruce cornered Thor to pump him for the “full story.” Nat sat quietly off to the side, worried about Alexis. A loud whistle cut through the din. Everyone turned to face Clint.

“They’re in a relationship.” He stated with no facial expression.

Tony blinked at him. “Well, yeah, a weird baby daddy, cohabitating thing. We all—”

“No, I mean they are in a romantic relationship. They are sleeping together. If you ask me, they’re in love with each other.” Clint huffed. He stepped forward to come toe to toe with Tony. “They know about you and Banner’s bet.”

Bruce blushed and flailed. “There’s no bet. I don’t know what you are talki—”

“When are you going to learn? I hear everything that goes on around here?!” Clint slammed his hand against the sofa. “I was in the vent when you made the bet. We decided to teach the two of you a lesson.”

Tony cocked an eyebrow. “Who’s ‘we’?”

“Me, Loki, and Alexis. They pretended like they were on the outs, breaking up to get even with you two meddling.” Clint crossed his arms.

“So is this fainting spell just part of an elaborate prank to get back at Tony and Bruce?” Steve piped up. “I should have done Loki would pull some sort of shit like that.”

“It’s no joke.” Thor finally joined the conversation. “I know my brother better than any of you. That was genuine fear in Loki’s eyes. Whatever is ailing Lady Alexis is no prank.”

Everyone stared at Thor in shock, confusion, and anxiety. Nat snapped out of her daze.

“I’m going down there.” She stomped off towards the elevator. Clint caught her elbow.

“Nat. Give them space. Give him space.”

Her mouth fell open. “But I can…” she protested.

“No, you can’t. There is nothing you can do down there but be in the way.” Clint continued.

“JARVIS!” Tony yelled into the air. “Send hourly updates on Dr. Randall to all the Avengers.”

“Yes, sir.” The clipped British accent responded.

“Thanks, Tony.” Nat gave the group a small smile.

Tony’s own brain was running fast, but he kept his worries to himself. He clapped his hands together.

“Alright with that sorted, they get on with the day. The world isn’t going to save itself.”

With hesitant motions, the rest of the team moved along. Clint disappeared to wherever he disappeared to. Bruce headed with Tony to the labs while Nat and Steve headed to the training facilities to work off some excess energy. Thor headed off to his quarters, too concerned over his brother and Alexis to get much else done.

-

Dr. Cho relegated Loki to a hard plastic chair off to the side as she examined Alexis. Loki paced instead. He could see everything that was happening through the clear glass panels separating the examination room. Things did not appear to be going well by the expression on Dr. Cho’s face. Three hours later, Dr. Cho came out to update Loki.

“There is nothing physically wrong I can find with her, Loki.” Cho sighed.

“And the baby?” Loki wrung his hands.

“Strong heartbeat, moving around. Do you want to know the sex? I did an ultrasound.”

Loki’s brows rose. He hadn’t thought about knowing the sex of the baby. His eyes darted to Alexis’s lying on the hospital bed. Hooked up to tubes and machines, eyes closed. It was a punch to his gut.

“We haven’t discussed it. I will wait until she wakes up to decide, if that is alright with you.”

Helen nodded. “Of course, Loki. I am still waiting on a few lab results to come back, and then I am sending them off to a few specialists. I would suggest going back to your apartment where you can be more comfortable. I will make sure JARVIS alerts you of any changes in her condition.”

“If it is all the same, I will just stay here.” Loki widened his stance as if Dr. Cho would attempt to forcibly remove him from the medbay. If it were any other circumstances, she would point out the 180 turn of events since the last time Loki was here with Alexis.

“I can only offer you a hard plastic chair.” She gestured at the standard issue chairs throughout the rooms. “And strong coffee.”

Loki gave her a sad smile. “I have been in worse situations. With far less pleasant company.”

Dr. Cho smiled back and then nodded before walking away to analyze all of Alexis’s results. Loki pulled a chair close enough to Alexis’s bed to hold her hand and sat down as his fingers weaved in with hers.

“Please wake up, darling.” Loki pleaded. The only answer he got was the steady beep of the machines monitoring all of Alexis’s vitals.

-

“Brother…” Thor rocked Loki by the shoulder. Loki’s long frame crunched up on two hard plastic chairs. His arm tucked under his head to act as a pillow. Nothing about his posture looked comfortable. After several hours of no changes in Alexis’s condition, Loki dozed off.

“Brother… wake up.” Thor shook him more forcefully this time. Which rewarded him with Loki snatching his wrist with his quick reflexes.

“Must you continue to wake me, Brother? Leave me in peace.” Loki groaned as he unfolded himself, joints cracking and popping. “Why are you even here?”

“It’s almost midnight, Loki. You never came back. I came to check on you.”

Loki glanced out to the window to confirm that it was indeed the middle of the night. He gave Thor a wry smile. “Well, as you can see,” Loki gestured up and down his body. “I am alive and well, so leave me be.” He waved Thor away.

Thor sighed and spun a chair backwards to sit near Loki. “While you may be alive, you are clearly not well, Loki.” He spied his brother’s hand intertwined with Alexis’s. “Barton told us.”

Loki’s shoulders slumped. “I can’t lose her, Brother. I love her.” His voice hoarse and cracking. “And our child…” Loki’s head dropped to the bed.

Thor reached over to comfort Loki, not knowing exactly what to say. “Lady Alexis is strong. How else could she have endured all these weeks living with you?”

The two gods chuckled at Thor’s joke. “Very true. I have not been on my best behavior.” Loki added.

“And now?” Thor raised an eyebrow.

“I have definitely not been on my best behavior.” Loki smirked.

“You were always one for mischief when it came to your lovers.”

Loki’s mood darkened, thinking back to Sigrun and his father. And the events leading him here. Alexis and his unborn child. He wondered where he would have ended up if he had agreed to the arranged marriage and Odin’s meddling. Loki imagined miserable in a completely different way than he was now.

“You were right, Brother.”

Thor’s brow furrowed. “About what?”

Loki gave another thin smile. “About love being worth the trouble.”

Thor chuckled and smiled. “I have not always been the best at telling you, but I have only wanted the best for you. For you to be happy.”

“I am. I was. I am?” Loki questioned. “I don’t even know anymore.”

Thor stood and offered his hand. “Go upstairs, Loki. Eat and sleep in your bed. I will stay with Lady Alexis for the rest of the night.”

Loki’s eyes glistened with tears. “Thank you, Thor.”

The two embraced and Loki wearily rose and left the medbay to sleep and eat before the next day. Once he left, Thor settled his oversized body into one of the undersized chairs. He stared at Alexis’s still body, her breathing shallow and even. The only sound was the constant beeping of the machines.

“I imagine you to be some kind of witch.” Thor spoke to Alexis. “Because it would take powerful magic to tame the beast that is Loki’s heart.”

-

Three Weeks Later

Alexis was still in a coma, and Loki was no closer to any answers why.

“What do you mean there is nothing physically wrong with her?!” He bellowed at Dr. Cho. “She is in a coma!” Loki jabbed a finger at Alexis’s room.

Tony arranged to move her to a more private area of the medbay and set up a second small bed in the corner since Loki refused to leave. Meals appeared from thin air. Although he suspected Nat was to blame. Even Steve came down to offer what little comfort he could. Loki now stalked the floor. Tony moved all non-essential personnel to another part of the Tower after getting several HR complaints.

“I don’t know what else to tell you. Her vital signs are stable, as are the baby’s. She is just asleep. By all accounts, she should be awake.” Dr. Cho explained.

Loki flipped a table, sending his dinner flying around the room. Helen took several steps back.

“UNACCEPTABLE!” Loki screamed.

Alexis’s machines rang an alarm, and the screens flashed. Helen rushed to the machines while Loki grabbed Alexis’s hand.

“I’m sorry, love. I shouldn’t have yelled.”

“Shouldn’t you be apologizing to me?” Cho piped up while she checked some printouts.

“Apologies.” He said with an eye roll. “What happened?”

“Her vitals spiked and then dropped. Triggering the alarms.” Helen glanced over at him with a grim expression. “They are stabilizing.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed. “What else?”

Dr. Cho sighed. “They are stabilizing at lower levels. Whatever is keeping her unconscious seems to be for lack of a better word… draining her.”

Loki stormed out the medbay without another word.

-

Thor was just getting ready to relax for a meal in his apartment when Loki burst through the door without bothering to knock.

“Do you mind, Loki?” Thor rose to face his brother. “I am about to eat.”

“I need to go to Asgard.”

Thor stared at Loki. “I don’t think that is a…” Thor then realized what happened. “What is going on with Lady Alexis?”

Loki collapsed onto the back of the couch. “In simple terms, she is dying. And no one can help her here. She needs our healers. I need to go to Asgard.”

“You realize Father is in Asgard.”

Loki gazed up at him, his eyes rimmed with red and sunken in surrounded by dark circles.

“I am well aware of the implications of my return. But if you were in my place, if your love was slowly dying from the inside out, wouldn’t you do everything in your power to save her?”

Thor sighed. “We can leave within the hour. I will inform the rest of the team of our departure while you make arrangements for Alexis to travel.”

Loki nodded and Thor headed for the door. Loki grabbed his arm. “Thank you, Thor.”

Thor covered Loki’s hand with this own and squeezed. “I am sure the healers will be able to help.”

“I hope so.” Loki replied glumly. “Because I am out of options.”

-

They were greeted by not only Heimdall but Frigga as well when they stepped back onto Asgard.

“Loki!” Frigga rushed to his side. Alexis’s body slumped against his chest while Loki cradled her in his arms. She noticed the roundness of Alexis’s belly. “I see what the fuss is about now. Let us get her to the healers. We can catch up later. Thor, the Allfather requested your audience.”

Thor nodded and took off towards the palace as Loki and Frigga whisked Alexis to the healers.

-

Loki paced outside the doors of the healing chambers while Frigga sat with him, reading a book.

“You will wear the floor out.” she commented with a smirk.

“Just another thing for Odin to blame me for. The replacement of the palace floors.” Loki sneered.

Frigga ignored Loki and pressed on with other things. “She’s pretty. How did you meet?”

Loki spun around to face her. “Do you care? Does it matter?”

Frigga set her book down on the chair as she stood to face Loki. “It matters when she is carrying my grandchild.” Frigga reached up to cup Loki’s cheek. “It matters when she has also is carrying my son’s heart.”

Loki gazed at his mother with wet eyes. “I—”

The doors opened and Loki’s mask fell back into place.

“You can come in now.” The attendant announced. Loki pushed past her.

Alexis laid out on the stone slab. Three attendants hovered over her. One operated the Soul Forge while another took notes. A third injected something into Alexis’s arm.

“What are you giving her!? She is—”

“We are well aware of her condition.” The head healer spoke. “I must admit it stumped us at first. But once we calibrated the Soul Forge for Vanir physiology, it was clear what was going on.”

“Which is exactly what?” Loki blinked as his brain processed the rest of what was said. “Wait, Vanir?!”

Frigga’s eyes darted between her son and the healer, ready to step in if necessary. The healer, oblivious to what was going on, continued explaining.

“In the second trimester, Vanir babies’ magical abilities manifest, feeding off the mother’s energy. The injection masks the magic until birth. She will need to continue taking it once a week until she delivers.”

Loki stumbled backwards. “Will she—”

“Recover? There should be no lasting effects to her or the baby. Except maybe a wicked headache and increased appetite.”

Loki allowed a few tears to fall onto his cheeks. Frigga grabbed his hand and squeezed.

“Thank you.”

Frigga cleared her throat. “Perhaps we could have the room for a few moments?”

The attendants nodded. “Of course, my Queen.” Everyone shuffled out of the room with a rustle of fabric. Loki made no move until the heavy doors closed behind him with a thud. Loki collapsed against Frigga.

“I take from your response, you were unaware of Alexis’s lineage.”

Loki gulped. “She never mentioned it.” He kneeled besides Alexis, the color returned to her cheeks. “You are going to be fine, my love. We have much to discuss when you wake.” Alexis groaned. Loki kissed her cheek. “It’s time to wake up.”

Frigga smiled at the sight of her son so fully devoted to someone. And the prospect of a grandchild. Her first grandchild. She would be lying if she said Loki was her first guess of the son to give her a grandchild first.

Alexis’s eyes fluttered open. “Loki… where am I?”

Loki’s tears wetted her skin as he sobbed. “Home. My home.” He smiled at her. “I thought I had lost you.”

She blinked a few times to adjust to the light. “Home? The Tower?” She noticed they were in a massive room with stone walls. “Where are we?”

Loki helped her sit up. “On—”

The doors slammed open and Odin strolled in, followed closely by Thor. “—Asgard and you will be leaving presently.”

Loki stepped in front of Alexis. “She will do no such thing. She is sick.”

“She does not belong here, Loki. And neither do you.” Odin responded cooly.

Loki nodded. “Still as inflexible as always, Father.”

“Loki, this is your Father?” Alexis peeked from around him.

Odin’s eyes caught Alexis, and he froze, the blood draining from his face for a moment before the mask of indifference fell back into place. But Loki and Frigga caught it.

Loki narrowed his eyes. “Father, what have you done?”