Rooms

Who: Wren and Evie
What: We're off to see the wizard(s)
Where: Hogsmeade
When: Nowish
Warnings/Rating: I solemnly swear this log is up to no good.

Wren thought she was possibly the only maman of a school-aged child who hadn't read the Harry Potter books. She knew a tiny bit about them, but not much. She didn't really like reading, and she didn't like television, and she couldn't remember the last time she'd gone to a movie. Her knowledge was the kind of passing thing that came from just being alive in society, because there were references to the books all over. But she didn't know them, and she was kind of trusting Evie to know how things in this door they were visiting worked.

She was dressed in yellow. The sundress was pale, and the shawl she had over her shoulders was French and old, pale blues and yellows, its fringes marking it as a piano shawl. She was newly blonde, and she was ready to see Evie's ears, because she figured that meant the other woman had cut her hair off. Evie hadn't touched her hair in the whole, whole time Wren had known her, and she wondered why her friend had done it.

The wizarding door was easy to find. She'd passed it a bunch of times, and she stood in front of it, hand on the knob as she waited for Evie to arrive. She got a little impatient, and she turned the handle. For a second, the inside flickered and looked like perfectly normal London. Then, she stepped a foot inside, and the door reconsidered. The scenery changed, and she was completely unaware that the magic (Loki's magic) made the door think wizard and not muggle. She just stared at the village, her mouth a little bit open, and she thought maybe she needed something new to wear.

[Locked to Avengers, sans Clint]
[Includes Young, MCU, and 616. After this.]

Clint's been located. Not that I'm sure that we were looking for him.

ETA: [After this the post remains, but the text is crossed out.]

[Handwritten, in girlish, but messy scrawl. Smudged a little in haste, perhaps. There's dirt in the corner and something a little darker, a little wetter. Maybe even a little red.]

This is definitely not as cool as movies make it seem.

[During this.]

[Locked to Gwen S]
[The pen seems to draw light circles for a moment or two, before finally:] Gwen?

Stephanie Nashton hadn't seen much of her husband over the past few days. Cursory conversations here or there, and maybe they woke up with the other next to them the next morning if they were lucky. It was almost mutual avoidance, in an sense that they kept themselves wildly busy to stay away from home. Eddie, with his repairs and his mentoring and his Justice League duties, and Stephanie with the clinics, searching for nursing schools, and patrolling on and off. Typically? When one was in the apartment, the other was gone. Mutual avoidance. It was easier than addressing the conversation that happened between them or the litany of problems that hung between the still technically newlyweds. (They were still newlyweds? Somedays, it felt like they'd lived through twelve years of marriage already.)

She missed her husband desperately, but she knew he probably needed space. And sure, she was a little cranky, too. But, that didn't mean that she didn't love him, didn't want him around, didn't want to show that she could be sweet, too. Maybe not in the grand, bombastic way that Eddie was, but in measured, little ways. Leaving him lunch or dinner or even just a warm cup of coffee. Making sure the pets were walked or fed. Leaving sticky notes with hearts or their symbol on the them stuck to his keys or the bathroom mirror or the front door. No, she was never really good at planning outlandish dates that he would love, but she tried in other ways. She tried so hard.

On this particular day, she had finished checking in on the clinics fairly early, so she decided to take a walk through their neighborhood to kill some time before coming home and to keep her head clear, too. She greeted familiar faces with a vacant smile, and she stared into storefront windows to see the tired, puffy-eyed reflection of that blonde she didn't even recognize some days anymore. Eyes bruised purple underneath covered by make-up and hair in her face to distract, a permeating sadness for the family she still didn't know she could have, a fatigue for everything that was going on. But, she was still happier than she'd been in a while. She wasn't whole, but there were flickers of hope.

The weather was cooling down, and she walked down the street looking ready for fall, purple engagement ring glinting against the monochromatic colors of her clothes. When she passed a vintage record store a few blocks down from the place where the girls from the building had their drag shows, she stopped in her tracks, pondering for just a moment before going inside. She stepped out about ten minutes later with two records tucked underneath her arm: a vinyl with their wedding song on it, and another of Elvis. Of course. She would make Eddie dinner tonight and play those records, and maybe, just maybe she'd be lucky enough that he'd come home before she fell asleep.

[Group lock to Harry O, Peter P, Flash T]
I think I've got it figured out. Hotel lobby at 8 pm.

[Locked to Jason T]
Mary Jane is trapped in a door. I'm joining the team that's going to get her out. I just wanted to let you know. I'll be fine, and I'll keep in touch, okay?

[Around midday, the sky above the Avengers Mansion is treated to a brief flurry fireworks in shades of pink, blue, purple, and red. Beyond being surprised, no one is hurt and the general consensus around the neighborhood is they could have waited for nightfall to have a longer show.]

[Drawn absently on the middle of a page, the pencil led mixing with red flakes and a little bit of dust.]

[Comm to Billy K]
[After this bombshell and this.]

Insistent beep, beep, beep until he picks up.

[Text to Jess D]

Sorry about that!

[Public minus Loki]

It's peaceful views like this that help remind me why I do what I do.

( Cut for size )

I've got a situation here. What's the worst idea you've ever had and been stupid enough to follow through?