#and if they say yes they will be decked in gold turtles

[infinizero]

I am of the opinion that if Cale were to ever realize how much his kids think of him as their parent, he would absolutely speedrun therapy and you cannot change my mind

[okay-j-hannah]

Lovey Dovey

Pirates of the Caribbean : Fic

Will Turner x Reader

Word Count: 1541

Warnings: Hilarious sibling banter... Will be a king treating his woman like a queen 👑 swashbuckling pirate swears

Request: “This is me absolutely begging and foaming at the mouth for you to write a Will Turner x reader. I’m fine with fluff or smut lmao. I have a couple ideas if you also want to write multiple (or blend them into 1), you totally don’t have to though. 3. Being Jack Sparrow’s (sister/close relationship) and dating Will - First of all,THE C H A O S Jack constantly bugging you about being all “lovey dovey” on his ship (even if it’s not a significant amount). Jack also always complaining in general lmao. I think this is cute because Jack being over protective of you dating Will just seems so precious to me. PLEASE INCLUDE SOME FORM OF SIBLING BANTER 🙏🏻. Having accurate sibling teasing or banter is so important when writing relationships like these! Plus Sharing a hammock below deck” @gingerdissapointment​

A/N: Jack has never been overjoyed at the thought of you and your boyfriend - especially when you’re kissing on his ship

The skies were a rich coastal blue between the clouds. The gulls gave their cries as they flew overhead, pestering the inhabitants below for a morsel to eat. The sea was gentle as it rocked the ship.

Rocked the ship and the first mate.

(Y/N) was clearly taking her position on the ship very seriously as she lay across the edge of the starboard side. Her hat drawn to keep the sun off her face, she looked as a cat might just before a long nap.

Until the captain, laden with beads and braided scarves, came from his quarters. The black, heavy lids of his eyes fell into a squint as he spotted his first mate. She did enjoy testing his authority.

Sucking on a gold tooth, Captain Jack Sparrow sauntered over, slamming a hand onto the weathered wood beneath her. “I say, man! Hoist the sails, pull anchor, and undock this ship before I find another to replace yer useless, sleepy arse.”

She barely flinched as he bombarded her beginnings of sleep. A heavily ringed hand lifted to tilt her hat back, shooting the captain a look. It clearly spoke of how disappointing his efforts had become in motivating her.

“Go back to your Tortugan women and let me doze.”

“For your information, missy – we’re not on Tortuga anymore.”

“And you’re telling me you haven’t kept a few pretties in your cabin?”

Jack chewed the inside of his cheek, speaking lowly, “You know Gibbs will cause a mutiny if he sees any woman on this ship but you.”

“Yes, and being unable to escape your persistent stupidity, I’d thought challenging Gibbs would make smuggling barmaids all the more fun.”

Hat back over her face, (Y/N) couldn’t see the way Jack flailed his arms in a pitiful attempt to express his frustration. “If I hadn’t promised mum…”

“If you hadn’t promised mum what?” she suddenly sat up, swinging her legs so she was facing him.

His expression was dry, “If I hadn’t promised to watch over you aboard this ship – I would push you off this instant – to hell with the plank.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she smirked.

In a flash, Jack shoved her shoulder, just enough that she was caught off balance. And the fear that flashed across her face, however short lived, made him smile. “You should be kinder to your captain.”

He went for the wheel, fishing for his compass. (Y/N) slid from her spot, stomping after him, “You really would let me fall in?”

“You can swim.”

She punched his shoulder and he winced.

“You wouldn’t last a week on the seas without me.”

It was the usual bickering between the captain and the first mate. And many of the crew had to dodge as buckets of water and empty rum bottles flew at each other. There was rarely a voice of reason between the two – Gibbs had given up after an incident with a sea turtle and a peg leg – making only one option for a mediator.

“Mr. Will Turner,” Gibbs laughed gruffly, “’Bout time you came aboard.”

Will raised his eyebrows, stepping off the boarding plank, “Are things really so severe without me here?”

A wooden chair came flying from the captain’s quarters, splintering against the wheel. A second later (Y/N) came bounding out, a small chest in her hands, and ran to hold it over the side of the ship.

Jack cried after her, flailing his arms and tripping over the broken chair along the way, “DO NOT toss that treasure overboard.”

“What does it matter? You’re a pirate – go find some more!”

“Yes, but that chest is particularly valuable to me, and I would sorely miss it’s contents. So kindly return it before I tie you to the mast and let the seagulls shit down your pretty face.”

Will coughed obnoxiously and both siblings turned to face him. “What’s so important about the chest?”

(Y/N) grinned, “Will!” She let go of the treasure chest and ran for him. Jack yelled as he dove for the chest, catching it just before it fell over the edge.

“Why must you pester your brother?” Will asked, hugging her tight and kissing her cheek, “I would rather he be reasonable when I visit – he’s not overly fond of me.”

She grabbed his face and gave him a proper kiss, “I don’t care what my brother thinks.” She kissed him hard, losing balance.

A retching could be heard from behind them, “I’d sooner battle the kraken than watch you two swabbing tongues.” Jack sauntered back to his cabin, “We’re leaving in an hour.”

“He’s just jealous the longest he’s ever had a partner was overnight.”

Will snickered, taking her hand, “Best leave him be. I want you all to myself tonight.”

Jack poked his head out of the door, “And if I catch any lovey dovey nonsense on my ship, you can walk the plank and get your quota of kisses from the sharks!”

(Y/N) bit her lip, dragging Will by the hand and below deck.

“Did you hear me?” Jack cried almost desperately, “You keep that hand a safe distance from her!”

“I don’t care how much you fight,” Will said as they descended the stairs, “Jack loves you.”

“He’s protective, is all,” (Y/N) sighed, “I wish he showed he cared in other ways. Like letting me have first pick in a treasure hoard.”

They laughed and kissed all the way to the hammocks used for sleeping while sailing the seas. (Y/N) pushed him into one and jumped on top of him. The hammock swung from the jump, their tangled limbs fitting snug into a cocoon. (Y/N) wrapped herself around him, feeling safe and warm and vulnerable next to him.

“I want to tell you something,” Will whispered to her, running his fingers lightly down her arm.

She squirmed at the tickling, “What is it?”

“I’ve been meeting with the Port Royal banks, building a line of credit with them.”

(Y/N) became very still, her thumb trailing down his ribs, “Why do that? You already own the smithery.”

“I sold it.”

She sat up, hand against his chest, “Why do that? You’re an excellent blacksmith.”

His eyes were shining in the dim light, “I’m buying you a ship. A ship for us.”

“What?” There was a smile on her lips like she didn’t believe him, “A real ship?”

“I’m doing it the right way,” he mumbled, “It takes longer, but… We’ll have a home on the sea.”

She giggled, “A real ship? With a crew?”

“If you want.”

“And you’ll be the captain and I’ll be the first mate,” she grinned, running a hand up his neck to hold his cheek.

Will smiled fondly, “You will be captain. And I’ll be your first mate.”

(Y/N) marveled at him, getting quiet when she said, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” And he tilted his head to catch her lips, gripping her tight by the waist.

She kept ahold of his cheek, giggling as he tickled her sides. They were too preoccupied to hear a set of footsteps tromping down the stairs.

“Oh, God! Damned Davy Jones. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

(Y/N) fell into Will’s shoulder, sighing, “What does it look like we’re doing?”

“Not on my ship, missy. Not. On. My. Ship.”

“Oh, sod off,” (Y/N) yelled, “Grab your rum and go.”

“I’m going to be honest with you, mate,” Jack pointed a wavering finger, “If you don’t get your sticky paws off my sister, I’m going to chain you to a cannonball and throw you overboard for the kraken to eat.”

(Y/N) toppled out of the hammock, “Jack you’re taking it a little far. Will’s been nothing but good to me since we’ve known him. I don’t understand this vendetta you have against him.”

“He’s… well, there’s something about him.” Jack twiddled his fingers, “And I promised – I swore to mum that I’d…” He suddenly became quiet, “That I’d look after you.”

Her heart softened, “And you’ve done a pretty damn good job so far.” She knew he needed to hear it, “And I’m not asking you to stop looking after me. I’m asking that you let someone else help. Someone good and kind. And a partner for me – I’m sorry captain, but that’s not something you can give me.” She tried at a smile.

And Jack did have the slightest crack of his lips, “You were always going to outgrow me.”

Will came up behind (Y/N) and placed an arm around her shoulders. Surprisingly Jack didn’t retort, “You’re not the only one that cares about her.”

“I’m still not a fan of the lovey dovey nonsense.”

“That’s fine,” (Y/N) laughed, “We’re gonna do it anyway.”

Jack laughed too, taking a step back and making for the stairs. He snatched a bottle of rum from the stores as he said, “Put a sock on the cabin door next time. I already have enough trauma without seeing whatever you two do alone.”

And that was about as close as Jack was going to get in saying he accepted his sister dating. Will gripped her side and whispered jovially in her ear.

“You want to get all lovey dovey?”

“Let me grab a sock first.”

~~~

Tag List:

@caswinchester2000 @aria253264 @bippity-boppity-boopa @kaqua @cameleonfrenzy @shyposttree 

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[purrincesskittens]

Star Eyes, Zuko is mistaken as Water Tribe.

Gift for @muffinlance based off this post and this one

......................................................................

It was night when they found him. A quick examination showed blood on the back of his head. As they pounded on his back someone noted his eyes. “Gold eyes.” They called. “Are you fire nation?” The boy lifted his head and the light of the lantern caught his eyes reflecting back at them. “Of course I am.” The kid snarls. “Star Eyes.” Someone breathed. Shit this kid was one of theirs. “Could be the child of a war bride.” Was suggested by someone. “At least he’s not a fire bender.” There was a laugh that was quickly interrupted by the star eyed boy himself. “Yes I am.” “Well that was.... honest.” 

Star eyes were only something seen in the water tribes though. Even if this kid was a fire bender he had to be water tribe. More then likely the result of a woman stolen from her tribe during a raid and raised as Fire Nation since he looked enough of the part. But he was young, probably just recruited or practically forced into joining the military. There was a easy way to figure out how dangerous this kid was or rather how much more dangerous he was considering he was a fire bender. 

“Have you ever killed someone?” Hakoda asks crouching before the boy lifting his chin in one hand so the boy had to look him in the eye with those gold colored star eyes. “What? No ... I don’t think.... No.”  The kid seemed confused the blood on the back of his head suggested a head wound but this kid was young probably just assigned to a ship only to get knocked overboard by either by a storm or by another soldier. Those eyes probably didn’t make him popular or the fact that this kid’s eyes kept sliding away from Hakoda’s own suggested he may be a fey child. 

“What do we do with him?” Somebody asks as they watch the kid cough up water, curling and uncurling his fingers against the wood of the deck his eyes cast down. “We keep him for now. His mother is probably Water Tribe war bride if he is star eyed. Have Kustaa check him over and if he survives we figure out what to do from there." Hakoda announces to the crew. They took care of their own and until they figured out who his mother was and could turn him over to her family if she had any left the crew of the Akhult would take care of him for now. Half Water Tribe and the child of a war bride was still Water Tribe and like hell were they going to turn him over to the Fire Nation to continue using as a weapon.

Kustaa later informed him the boy had hypothermia as well as potentially severe head trauma it was hard to tell right now. The kid mistook him for his uncle. Which uncle they weren't sure. It's possible the boy's mother had a picture of her family she either managed to take with her or she drew herself or he could be thinking Kustaa was his father's brother. The escape attempts didn't help some of the crews opinions on keeping the kid but considering he was raised as Fire Nation and was in a strange place so its expected that he would try to escape although climbing the mast was something Hakoda really wished he didn't do along with scaling the side of the ship.

Kustaa had mentioned the boy called for his mother while delirious along with begging his father for forgiveness pledging his loyalty to him and pleading no to the man which didn't paint a pretty picture of the man or gain much favor of the fire nation in the crews opinions. "Tell me about your mother." Hakoda suggests sitting up on the mast beside the boy. Glowing gold eyes blinked at him. "I remember trailing robes. She favored long sleeved robes with delicate embroidery. She had long hair I remember her brushing mine when I was little. I would sit in her lap and she would brush my hair talking to me about theater or turtleducks or plants. Different things she liked. I think I would sometimes tell her about my day or what I had done recently I don't remember clearly its... faded almost. Fuzzy. I barely remember what she looked like."

Hakoda frowned the boy was water tribe he had to be with those star eyes of his but why wouldn't his mother tell him about her people, her home. Maybe she couldn't? Maybe the boys father was so controlling he made sure she never spoke of home to their son? Then the boy said something that made him rethink everything he knew about the kid. "Uncle said my hair is alot like hers. Or it was. I don't even remember why I shaved it." The kid frowned obviously struggling to remember rubbing his head with one hand. The head wound had left him confused he didn't rember his name or much of anything recent but he remembered he had been burned for cowardice supposedly or partially for that but what did the fire nation consider to be cowardly? Kustaa suspected the boy's own father burned him based off what they gleaned from fever dreams and night terrors.

“What did she look like?” Hakoda questions softly holding his breath hoping he was wrong with the hunch he had. “Elegant, beautiful, she had long straight black hair that was so soft and amber eyes with flecks of true gold in them she wore long sleeved red robes with elegant embroidery. The sleeves would bellow and she would hide me in them when I was little.” The boy continued to talk about his mother someone he remembered fondly although all the details suggested the hugs, the turtle duck kisses and every else stopped when the boy was small. Something happened to his mother and Hakoda was beginning to suspect it may have something to do with the boys true parentage. But how to suggest it to the kid without breaking the poor things mind? The whole crew already suspected he was spirit touched as the water tribe liked to call those who were different mentally the earth kingdom called them fey and not all of the earth kingdom where kind to them. 

“If I promise no one on this ship will hurt you and we won’t turn you over to the Earth Kingdom will you stop with the escape attempts?”Hakoda asks when the boy falls silent picking at the grain of the wood under his hands not meeting Hakoda’s eyes. The kid blinked up at him startled. “Okay.” Getting the kid down the mast was surprisingly easy after that and a few more rules were hashed out before the kid was sent to see Kustaa again and the crew was gathered. “The boy’s mother was fire nation. He remembers her more clearly then anything else.” This drew murmurs from the crew some wanted to toss him over board then since he wasn’t the child of a war bride. “But he’s star eyed he has to be Water Tribe.” Toklo says tilting his head in confusion. “Exactly. We know he seemed to have issues regarding his father and Kustaa suspects he may have been the one to burn the kid. I learned his mother also disappeared or may possibly have been killed when he was young.” This gained more murmurs from the crew. 

Panuk pulled in a sharp audible breath. He had figured out what Hakoda was getting at. “Does any one here know where they were about 16 to 17 years ago? If they were around the Earth Kingdom or the colonies anywhere?” Their chief had to ask if none of the men on this ship was the boys father he would have to send messages out to all the others in the fleet see if anyone remembered if maybe had met a pretty woman in the Earth Kingdom or in the colonies and spent a night with her. If the kids mother was Fire Nation and he was star eyed that meant his real father had to be Water Tribe. His mother had to have married or started a new relationship soon after and the boy looked fire nation enough to pass him off as her husband’s but the husband probably suspected what with the star eyes. There was silence followed by an uproar. “You can’t be serious?!” Aake shouted in outrage. “I’m not judging anyone but the boy is water tribe and with his mother gone we most definitely are not giving him back to the Fire Nation so we need to figure out whose he is. We take care of our own.” Hakoda soothed the crews ruffled feathers listening as the men scrambled to remember where they were and what they were doing all those years ago.

Slowly they managed to clear the majority of the crew those who couldn’t remember were left struggling valiantly to justify why they couldn’t possibly be the boys father while their youngest two crew members watched with glee obviously in the clear themselves due to their age. Once Kustaa cleared the boy Hakoda set him to work and had to add no breathing fire to the list of rules. Toklo and Panuk made friends with their newest crew member over laundry and the boy was very shouty about women’s work. And then the issue over the kid not having a name he remembered came up. Names like Siqinq, Kallik, Cupun, Tulok, Yuka and Tulugaq were tossed around. He is pretty sure they settled on Tulok simply because they already have a Tuluk and Toklo on board and that name is almost a combination of the two plus it had a star meaning behind it. The boy just wanted to fit in.

Reds were changed for Toklo’s blues and the boys hair shaved to regrow properly after Kustaa managed to break it to the kid that a real father wouldn’t abuse his son, biological or not. They picked up Bato who sympathized with them for wanting to keep the star eyed child, teach him his real culture, and find his real father but the kid was still a fire bender. A fire bender on a WOODEN SHIP!! The boy, Toluk looked like a kicked polar puppy being denied sleep in the hammock he was used to and his usual snacks when ever he wanted. They still had a lot of work cut out for them when the kid thought he would be killed over a bending accident because he didn’t fully remember he needed to mediate to control his fire. His memories were still patchy at best. So Hakoda ended up with his temporary foster star eyed child sitting in his cabin breathing with a lantern holding a dog.  

The kid liked sea prunes proving he was Water Tribe at heart. He was good at using his fire bending for non evil purposes even if he protested it. He proved he shouldn’t be left alone in port either by himself or with his friends. He gained a piercing, two rusted swords, a theater scroll and a cabbage? No one seems to know about the cabbage. He can cook as it’s proven despite how spicy his cooking is and nearly gets kidnapped by prostitutes. Sex workers were not on the list of people Hakoda thought he would have to fight for custody of Tulok with. He nearly gets himself kidnapped by a Earth Kingdom solider they are allied with who seemed sure their boy was then dead prince of the Fire Nation. Never mind that the prince was dead and their boy was star eyed. The solider was surprisingly unfazed by the heat of the kids cooking. He didn't end up kidnapped despite his best efforts.. The kid really needed to stop climbing the mast. “Prince Zuko?!” Hakoda’s kids seemed to also mistake Tulok for the dead prince. 

“That’s the Prince of the Fire Nation, dad he chased us all over and tried to capture the avatar numerous times. His sister did capture Aang.” His kids argued trying to convince him that their new foster brother was some evil prince. The kid in question for his part had more headaches then usual and just seemed more confused and angry. He remembered something. A little sister named LaLa. It takes a while but after watching their new brother and listening to the crew, “His name is Zuko, he is the prince of the Fire Nation, his father is Fire Lord Ozai does no one care about that?!” Sokka asks in outrage staring as the kid in question does laundry like its a perfectly normal thing for a prince to do. “His mother may be fire nation but his father sure isn’t.” Panuk comments dodging a wet shirt thrown by their resident fire bender.  This earned laughter and calls of “Good for her!!” And “She could do a lot better!” Followed by “At least a water tribesman would treat her right!!”. Sokka groaned in frustration and confusion. 

“Why is my nephew wearing blue, convinced Ozai isn’t his biological father and that he is water tribe?” General Iroh the Dragon of the West questions calmly. Tulok seemed to recognize Iroh and even called him Uncle and recognized some of the crew but he still didn’t have complete clear memories although his headaches grew worse until Kustaa told him it didn’t matter if he remembered or not he was water tribe and nothing was going to change that spirit touched or not. “He is star eyed you can’t possibly tell me the fire nation has star eyed kids that’s a water tribe thing only.” Iroh considered it briefly before dismissing it. His nephew looked similar to a young Ozai, so Ozai had to be his father even if he wasn’t much of one and his nephew deserved better then Ozai. But surely Ursa couldn’t have had an affair while married to Ozai it was impossible. Iroh tried to do the math off the top of his head of when Ursa and Ozai married vs when Zuko was born. “Look the obvious answer here is that the boys mom met with a Water Tribe beefcake and had a one night stand that lead to the boy. It’s the only thing that explains why his supposed father hated him so much and why he struggled with fire bending and is star eyed.” Bato explains grinning. “Beefcake?” Hakoda and Iroh question. 

Azula finds this all far to amusing. “That just means I’m the rightful heir after all. You can stay here with your little water tribe family and I can be the next Fire Lord after Uncle.” Somehow things get worked out that their star eyed fire bender’s fire nation sister will be staying with them along side her two scary friends and the kids supposed Uncle will become the next Fire Lord once they take down Ozai. The kid is still confused and there are still gaps in his memories but they aren’t giving him back now he is their’s and the fire nation can’t have him. They still call him Tulok since the fire nation does consider the sun to be a star after all. He seems to like it better then Zuko. He still does their laundry still wears beads in his braids in red, blue and one gold. In all that’s happened no one thought to alert the rest of the fleet about what they learned leaving them in for one heck of a surprise when they reach Chameleon Bay where the rest of the men from the fleet scramble to try to remember where they were sixteen-point-nine years ago. 

[bakubub]

favourite time of year

w/c: 1.2k

written for @kal0psi-a 's halloween collab

folding the sticky dough carefully, just as the recipe instructed, i try my best to ignore the itching in my nose in a feeble attempt to stay concentrated, but give up when it starts to irritate my eyes.

"eughh, because of you there's flour in my nose," i complain to my boyfriend, who has his chin hooked over my shoulder and very heavily leaning over me.

"hey, don't complain! have you seen my hair?" he asks, stretching his neck to show me. sure enough, his hair is more white than it is black. i rake my hand through it before he can say anything, my dough covered hands clumping his hair together as an avalanche of flour sprinkles all over my chest.

he screeches, jumping back from me and i quickly use this chance to start running, because based on previous incidents, there's a 90% chance he will chase me relentlessly.

his cough from across the kitchen halts my escape plan, "are you happy now? i have flour in my nose too," he complains.

i watch in amusement as a cloud of flour puffs around him in the shape of a mushroom as he sneezes heavily, looking quite literally like a cartoon character and quickly near him to snap a picture. this will do nicely for the autumn section in this year's album.

since we started dating, tetsuro and i have been taking photos of one another, which we organise into albums by year, separated by season. it started when he gave me an album on our first anniversary, now, 6 years later and married, putting together an album of the past year has become tradition. each season we do an activity that correlates with the vibe, and today, we're making pumpkin pie with halloween shape indents because really, what else comes to mind when you think of fall?

i laugh loudly at the photo i took, his face caught mid sneeze, and it seems to flick the switch deep within tetsuro that i thought i had flicked earlier, and his feline gaze snaps to mine, before lurching forward in an attempt to catch me. i move just in the nick of time and run to the other side of the bench. he chases me until we're playing cat and mouse around the bench like children, slowly stalking one another as the other makes it as though they're backtracking but running forward instead.

"give up, wicked witch!" he exclaims, putting his right hand on his heart and holding the other outwards as he closes his eyes, apparently overwhelmed with emotion, "it is i, prince tetsu-" in the midst of his theatrics, i move in for the kill. his need for dramatics is most definitely his achille's heel, i think as i stab him in the hip with my fingers, and he yelps, opening his eyes only to find the mouse catching the cat.

"and the wicked witch of fall wins!" i yell, jumping up and down, getting flour all over the hardwood floors.

"fine, this round goes to you. your reward? a magical kiss from your prince charming," he says, leaning in and halting my celebration.

"the prince kisses the witch? haven't heard this fairy-tale before," i mutter before he silences me by placing a soft but unhurried kiss on my lips. my hands automatically make their way around his neck, and i lean back slightly as his hands firmly hold my waist, providing protection and support even in a moment as miniscule as this. in the glow of the autumn sunset, painting our kitchen with a golden hue, with the man i love in front of me, everything is perfect. we break off, his forehead leaning on mine, neither of us moving away.

"this is our fairy-tale, with its own happy ending."

looking up, I'm met with his golden brown stare, the small specks of gold especially visible in this lighting, practically glowing. his white turtle neck hugging his form nicely, and his raven hair sprinkled with flour, i can't help but wonder if this is what we're going to be like in the future, when we've lived our lives, and grown old together; the only indication of our age being the salt and pepper hair, and the slightly more prominent lines around our eyes from spending a lifetime of smiling.

because that's how it would be, i think, to have tetsuro next to me for eternity, to smile and to laugh every day.

he has to kneel down considerably to reach my lips with his own, to rest his forehead on mine, but the look on his face and the emotion in his familiar, beautiful eyes reflect nothing but comfort and content, genuine even as he says stupid and cliché things. in a way, he’s promising me nothing but a life full of the music of our happiness.

"i love you, witch," he whispers, as if afraid to ruin the moment by speaking.

i kiss him again, before pulling out my secret weapon and dumping more flour over his head. "love you too, prince!" i screech as i run away. i hear his chuckles as he chases after me, muttering empty promises of revenge just as he did before, and every other time, and hopefully, if my luck holds out, every time after.

---

"okay, nod gonna lie, dis ith really goo-dh" i say, speaking with a mouth full of the pumpkin pie we finally got around to baking.

i watch him snap a photo of me, smiling through my full mouth, knowing full well i have pie all over my mouth and teeth.

“you’ve never looked better, babe,” he says, chuckling, before trying it himself, moaning through his full mouth, "oh mhy gohd." i roll my eyes as he continues, "baby, thth is fudding amathing," he says, taking another, and then another bite.

“slow it down, moron. you’re going to choke and the wicked witch is going to have to ruin her comfy position to give you the heimlich,” i say, my legs crossed on the carpeted floor with my feet nice and warm in my thick panda bear socks.

“how abouth we sthip straighd to the kith of life?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows with a mouth full of pie.

"how about you shuffle the cards, prince? i'll pick a movie," i suggest, or rather order, raising my brows. he salutes sarcastically as he sets down his plate and goes to get our worn out deck of uno cards.

"i thought you were a witch, not a princess," he mutters once he swallows his pie.

"actually, i married the prince so that legally makes me a princess. c'mon tetsuro," i say, pressing play on a random comedy to play in the background.

with the fireplace going under the television, and our pumpkin spice and cinnamon candles lit, the room is cozy, warm and calm.

that is until tetsuro yells his profanities about me placing a 2+ on his 4+.

"THAT'S NOT ALLOWED! YOU CAN ONLY PLACE A 4+ ON TOP OF A 4+"

"since WHEN?! THIS WASN'T THE RULE LAST WEEK!" i scream back, refusing to back down. i am not picking up four cards. "i would never cheat. unlike YOU," i accuse, shoving another fork full of the pie into my mouth in defiance.

he dramatically gasps shoving a fork full of pie into his own mouth, and glares at me. i glare right back, both of us wordlessly agreeing that whoever loses the staring competition loses the uno argument. ignoring the burning in my eyes, i keep my expression neutral as i watch the tears building up in tetsuro's lashline, his right eye twitching and turning slightly red.

"YES!" i scream as he blinks, wiping his eyes and sighing dramatically before beginning to pick up six cards, unable to come up with an excuse.

i laugh mercilessly and we continue the game, which i ended up winning after he picked up another 12 cards, flashing me the 'please have mercy on me' eyes every time he reached for the deck.

"you really are a wicked little witch aren't you?" he mutters as he gets up. i snort in response, eating the last of my pie.

"i wanna another slice," he announces. "you want?" nodding eagerly, i give him my plate.

"i want a slice with a bat," i call out, referring to the misshapen shapes we cut out on the top layer of the pie.

when he came back, he halted at the door as he silently watches me set up face masks and mani-pedi equipment on the coffee table, the entire pie tray with two forks, instead of two slices, in his hands. i raised my eyebrows, and he mirrors my expression towards my makeshift salon on the floor of our living room.

we both shrug and he comes and sits next to me, picking up a face mask packet and reading the description.

"ooh! aloe vera!"

that's how we ended up watching shitty comedies all night with white face masks on and stomachs stuffed with pie.

---

laying in bed my head resting on tetsuro's shoulder and my hand rhythmically stroking his hair, i bask in the feeling of comfort and my mind being stress free. shielded from the cold night with a million blankets and the massive man sleeping next to me, with my especially cold, numb feet tucked under his thigh, i match my breathing with his easily as i follow after him into a deep slumber.

because that's what the season of autumn is about, really. taking it easy after the adventurous months that were spring and summer, to rewind and become a home-bug again as the weather cools down. and these moments with tetsuro?

these moments are what makes this my favourite time of year.

ahhh this was so, so fun!! special thanks to @/kal0psi-a for organising this entire collab <3

[une-nuit-pour-se-souvenir]

random thoughts about aegon vi and septa lemore

Apparently, it’s Aegon’s week. i don’t think i ever paticipated in these events for any character or pairing, but @agentrouka-blog​’s theory that septa Lemore is Ashara Dayne and that the baby switch was between Aegon and her rumoured child (instead of random kid) showed up on my dash today.

Lemore being Ashara Dayne and there having been baby switch like theorised would be fantastic, because she’d know a lot of stuff that is otherwise impossible to know. She knows who dishonoured her at Harrenhal (we all know Brandon, not Ned). She knows about Wylla, a wetnurse from the Dayne Household, who Eddard Stark and Edric Dayne both say is Jon’s mother (we all know Jon is Lyanna’s, so this apparent lie version being told by two different people who have nothing to do with one another seems to suggest a combined lie between Ned and the Daynes). She knows about Jon because Ned went to Starfall with him and (if baby switch theory is true), she can confirm Aegon VI is real.

There’s also the suspicious narrative choice of a “Targ” (not even, she has dark hair, not silver hair, even if she has purple eyes) getting with an impetuous Stark at Harrenhal and a secret child never really going anywhere. What’s the point of that besides shading Rhaegar plus Lyanna equals Jon? This I always thought was suspicious, but this theory would *poof* make it make sense.

TYRION III ~ ADWD

This is the chapter where Aegon VI Targaryen is first introduced. The whole chapter is like a “perigrination” to find him. I am of the opinion that Aegon VI is the real thing for a long time now and there’s evidence that might be the case in this very chapter where he’s introduced.

"How fares our lad?" asked Illyrio as the chests were being secured. Tyrion counted six, oaken chests with iron hasps. Duck shifted them easily enough, hoisting them on one shoulder.

This is shortly after the chapter starts. Not only Illyrio asks about Aegon, there’s also the imagery of six chests about. If Aegon is crowned king of Westeros, he’ll be Aegon VI Targaryen.

By imagery, Aegon is real.++

"There is a gift for the boy in one of the chests. Some candied ginger. He was always fond of it." Illyrio sounded oddly sad.

This is often used as a clue that Aegon VI is fake. Illyrio is expressing some sentimental attachment, so there are theories that he could be the father and the mother would be some Valyrian looking wife he has. it has its merits.

On the other hand, Aegon VI is on the run from the crown, hiding under a false identity and dyes his hair another colour, but most importantly in this passage, is Aegon’s fond of a specific sweet that what we would at first mistake for a father for the reasons pointed above gifts him with.

This is 1:1 what’s going on with Sansa, she’s on the run from the crown, hiding under a false identity and dyes her hair another colour, she’s fond of a specific sweet (lemoncakes) and Littlefinger, who’s pretending to be her father and is very... emotionally invested... in her, gifts her with some (well, in parternship with her cousin, but the cousin is another matter).

By parallel, Aegon is real.++

Tyrion craned his head to one side, and saw a boy standing on the roof of a low wooden building, waving a wide-brimmed straw hat. He was a lithe and well-made youth, with a lanky build and a shock of dark blue hair.

Aegon is inrroduced standing above the rest, literally high-standing.

By imagery, Aegon is real.++

An older couple with a Rhoynish cast to their features stood close beside the tiller, whilst a handsome septa in a soft white robe stepped through the cabin door and pushed a lock of dark brown hair from her eyes.

This is actually what I came for, Lemore.

Why a septa would be described as “handsome” when that should have no relevance since she’s supposed to be chaste (I know, it’s Tyrion, but still)? Ashara Dayne is described by many as being beautiful, arrestingly so. If Lemore is Ashara, “handsome” is a good way to describe her beauty still.

Lemore has dark brown hair. Ashara is described as having long dark hair tumbling about her shoulders. More importantly, Lemore's first actions is push her hair from her eyes. Like, pay attention to this woman’s eyes, even though they’re not described ever (not even their colour).

TYRION IV ~ ADWD

Tyrion had drunk himself blind his first night on the Shy Maid. The next day he awoke with dragons fighting in his skull.

So yes, the night after Tyrion meets Aegon and his party for the first time, he dreams of dragons fighting. Take note these are dragons, not a fake dragon in whatever way and a dragon.

By imagery, Aegon is real.++.

The clouds in the sky were aglow: pink and purple, maroon and gold, pearl and saffron. One looked like a dragon. Once a man has seen a dragon in flight, let him stay at home and tend his garden in content, someone had written once, for this wide world has no greater wonder. Tyrion scratched at his scar and tried to recall the author's name. Dragons had been much in his thoughts of late.

One of those clouds looks like a dragon. There’s no dragons with these colours BUT Targs have purple eyes and Viseryion, a dragon I believe is a narrative stand-in for Aegon VI, is described as cream and gold, so one colour here. Honestly, the important here is that Tyrion is associating dragons around Aegon.

By imagery, Aegon is real.++.

"Good morrow, Hugor." Septa Lemore had emerged in her white robes, cinched at the waist with a woven belt of seven colors. Her hair flowed loose about her shoulders. "How did you sleep?"

Holy shit.

“Even after all these years, Ser Barristan could still recall Ashara's smile, the sound of her laughter. He had only to close his eyes to see her, with her long dark hair tumbling about her shoulders and those haunting purple eyes.

"Fitfully, good lady. I dreamed of you again." A waking dream. He could not sleep, so he had eased a hand between his legs and imagined the septa atop him, breasts bouncing.

"A wicked dream, no doubt. You are a wicked man. Will you pray with me and ask forgiveness for your sins?"

Only if we pray in the fashion of the Summer Isles. "No, but do give the Maiden a long, sweet kiss for me."

Laughing, the septa walked to the prow of the boat. It was her custom to bathe in the river every morning.

"Plainly, this boat was not named for you," Tyrion called as she disrobed.

"The Mother and the Father made us in their image, Hugor. We should glory in our bodies, for they are the work of gods."

Yeah, it’s Tyrion, who’d sexualise a rock, but this is a septa who deserves respect. Yet, this is how the writer “paints” the reader’s first interaction with this new character. These are always the most striking moments when establishing a character and sex imagery is what the writer decided to do.

Also Lemore not only knows that Tyrion’s fantasising about having sex with her and doesn’t give a shit, she laughs instead, gets naked to bathe, and doesn’t give a shit if others look at her naked body. This doesn’t feel like a septa. I mean, I remember Mordane and the zealots at King’s Landing who screwed with Cersei. They have nothing on this.

The way she puts why she has no problems with naked bodies and the like also suggest some kind of “free spirit” which goes well with the (disgusting, but there) dornish wanton woman trope and being dishonoured by Brandon at Harrenhal.

Another thing to note, is that Tyrion also clearly says the “Shy Maid” wasn’t named after Lemore, which suggests she’s neither shy nor a maid. This is confirmed by her actions and by...

The dwarf watched Lemore slip into the water. The sight always made him hard. There was something wonderfully wicked about the thought of peeling the septa out of those chaste white robes and spreading her legs. Innocence despoiled, he thought … though Lemore was not near as innocent as she appeared. She had stretch marks on her belly that could only have come from childbirth.

Lemore was pregnant at one point!

When Lemore climbed back onto the deck, Tyrion savored the sight of water trickling between her breasts, her smooth skin glowing golden in the morning light. She was past forty, more handsome than pretty, but still easy on the eye. Being randy is the next best thing to being drunk, he decided. It made him feel as if he was still alive. "Did you see the turtle, Hugor?" the septa asked him, wringing water from her hair. "The big ridgeback?"

This disparity of behaviour between septa Lemore and any other septa in ASOIAF is VERY suspicious.  Note how Lemore has two mysteries about her already, she’s characterised nothing like any septa in ASOIAF (more like the tasteless “dornish wanton woman” sterotype instead) and a mystery child. What’s the point of that, if she’s irrelevant.

Compare how he Yandry and Ysilla couple is treated, where there are no bizarre things taking place that I noticed. Also Yandry and Ysilla are specifically said to be a pair of Dornish orphans. Why is the image of Dornish people here, along with Lemore? Suspicious, suspicious.

Lemore is “past fourty”. The asoiaf wiki lists Ashara Dayne as being born between 260AC and 269AC, which means that she’d be around this age if she had lived.

The imagery of a (false, but still) maidtaking a bath while men watch is the same as Florian and Jonquil song, an event that legend says happened at Maidenpool (close to... yes, that’s right, Harrenhal, where Ashara met Brandon).

"The turtles have their charms, I will allow. Nothing delights me so much as the sight of a nice pair of shapely … shells.

"Septa Lemore laughed. Like everyone else aboard the Shy Maid, she had her secrets. She was welcome to them. I do not want to know her, I only want to fuck her. She knew it too. As she hung her septa's crystal about her neck, to nestle in the cleft between her breasts, she teased him with a smile.

That’s not the behaviour of a septa and note the narrative acknowledgement that Lemore has secrets. She’s also called Lady instead of septa at some point in the narrative.

If this is Ashara, then Brandon met his match at Harrenhal. The waste, I can’t. What a sexy couple.

This chapter also contains Targ history as well as some Dorne (mother Rhoyne and whatnot). It goes well with Aegon is the real deal. But what really cinches it is the ending...

"It was him," cried Yandry. "The Old Man of the River."And why not?

Tyrion grinned. Gods and wonders always appear, to attend the birth of kings.

The Old Man of the River is a lesser god, the son of Mother Rhoyne. These gods are all associated with Dorne.

Aegon is real.++.

Tyrion VI ~ ADWD

"Even the bravest of your forebears kept his Kingsguard close about him in times of peril." Lemore had changed out of her septa's robes into garb more befitting the wife or daughter of a prosperous merchant. Tyrion watched her closely. He had sniffed out the truth beneath the dyed blue hair of Griff and Young Griff easily enough, and Yandry and Ysilla seemed to be no more than they claimed to be, whilst Duck was somewhat less. Lemore, though … Who is she, really? Why is she here? Not for gold, I'd judge. What is this prince to her? Was she ever a true septa?

Who is she, really... indeed... Lemore’s identity clearly is important.

She turned back to Prince Aegon. "You are not the only one who must needs hide."

Why does Lemore need to hide? :)

[sunnysideofmidnight]

Remembering the Rain

I'm sitting outside , listening to the rain hit the roof of the deck. Little thunder here and there. Nothing violent. The smell of the fresh rain. I love it.

It reminded me of my Mamaw and when I was a little girl. We had a trailor at Rocky Fork Lake . We spent alot of summer weekends there.

Fishing for bluegill, catfish or bass. Shit, I haven't been fishing since I was 17 with my highschool boyfriend. We use to sit at the spill way and catch catfish with chicken livers. Also, alot of snapping turtles.

That little trailer had a homemade porch with a tin roof on it. Whenever we had a downpour or a thunderstorm Mamaw would take me outside and we would sit on that spray painted white, metal glider. She loved to hear the rain hitting the tin roof. She would tell me that and it stuck with me. I always sit out in the rain and listen to it.

I always remembered that. She taught me how to appreciate and pause and enjoy what Mother Nature has to offer. I was afraid of thunderstorms before then. After Mamaw and I sat there for the first time (and many more times after that) I was no longer afraid of the thunder. I loved the noise it made, the way the lightning streaked across the sky and the restless rain.

I forgot that but never fogot it at the same time. The last 10 years have been a total disaster, fall on my face, weak motherfucker. I say that now because I am strong willed, content and sober.

Even though at some point drinking goes from fun to miserable. Can never get back to that fun era when it wasn't a problem and was something you looked forward to on the weekend with your friends.

Fuck , it's been a long, long time since thats been possible. It became a constant nagging in your head saying "drink" "don't drink" "fuck it drink" to OMG "dont drink".

It eventually became a nuisance. A miserable, uncontrollable desire. A monkey on your back. A never ending battle with yourself about this "problem" you never thought you would have. Fighting your self to not drink when the desire makes your mouth water and your head hurt. Every day from the time I opened my eyes to the time I went to bed. In the end I had to fight the desire to want every day. Exhausting.

I didn't wake up one day and say "hey, when I grow up I want to be an alcoholic." Nope wasn't my plan. It became a go to for fucking things wrong, celebrating anything. It didn't matter if it was good or bad. I liked to drink to sucess. Drink to get (more) away from being depressed. Oh fuck, I drank any way, any time and for any reason.

Yes, you drink and for a short amount of time, it makes you forget the bad but it also makes you forget the good. It washes everything away. It makes your problems bigger and the feel good go to's forgotten. Then your lost. Not knowing. A empty soal walking around drunk and miserable . Thats me :)

I have been rotten to other people and I have been rotten to myself. I was confident, successful and loved. I went to unconfident , barely successful but still successful to not loved and loosing everything I had learned and lived in life.

It was a wonderful feeling to remember that today and feel the peace that filled me. To remember anything childhood has been a struggle. Too drunk to really be that concerned but did wonder, why can't I remember times when I was little?

I miss her (Mamaw) so much. She lived to 99 years old. She had a good life, she was fiesty and she had a heart of gold. She taught me how to love and give. Appreciate and do for others. She also taught me how to be stubborn, mouthy and with a get what I want attitude. Ha Ha.

I still have it. I think alot more before I react now. I also remember , before the drinking and drugging, that me. I want to find that me again. That go getter.

I feel like I am coming back. I don't remember , until moments like today, all the good things but I am starting to remember what I want, what I like what I was taught and things that were good.

When the fuck did everything turn to shit. WOW> Well, you know what? Fuck you alcohol. I am woman hear me roar! Ha.

I will take control and remember the things that made me feel good and will again. Like sitting outside on the deck , thinking about being little , and listening to the rain.

May the universe surround you and yours with good.

[is-that-another-soulmate-au]

Zukka Soulmate AU part 6

@mypureessence

@chaoticidiott

@ari-shipping-stuff

@knightedbot

@idkhowbutimgayer

@swampy-beans

@angrylittleintrovert

"I'll see you after the war prince Zuko" Jee said while leaving with Zhao

"Traitor" Zuko snipped at him with an angry stare, how could he just leave? He honestly saw him as a friend at that point, not that he ever had a good Idea of friends.

Jee just gave him a sad look and whispered "I'm sorry."

Once left on the boat with just him and his Uncle Zuko felt panicked. He paced back and forth on the ships deck until Iroh pulled him into a hug "don't panic too much Prince zuko, you'll dry out your scar. Say, why don't we go for a short walk together? Perhaps we could find some native flowers along the way"

"I dont want to go for a walk" Zuko pouted "Im going to sleep, dont be out too late, I hope to leave by dawn"

"Do you remember your sailing training?"

"Of course uncle, I went over it every morning with the captain"

Iroh gave him a nod and was off on his walk. Zuko looked towards the moon, it was getting close to a full moon. Maybe he's watching the same moon right now. He flushed at the thought and shook his head before heading to bed.

So they were at the northpole now? Of course he knew they were traveling to find Katara a wonderbending master. Given that there were none in the south pole. That's weird isn't it? Of course the firenation had done something to get the advantage over them but what happened to all the waterbenders? That village did seem rather... small? Why was Sokka the only warrior there? Perhaps the warriors left with what few benders they probably had?

Thinking back to the day he first saw Sokka he remembered only the glare from the boy with war paint covering half his face. He hated him, clearly he did, of course he did, why wouldn't he? What was Zuko but a traitor to his own nation and an enemy to every other nation. He only had one option right? He had to capture Aang and bring him back to his father. That was the only way he'd ever get his fathers love back and he knew that... didn't he? If he knew that then why was it so tempting to take Katara up on her offer to join them, why was he so tempted to try with Sokka?

A sound outside his room brought him out of his train of thought with a start. "Uncle?" With no response he went on the defense, stalking down the hall outside his room. He held a firebending position, ready to defend himself at any given moment.

When he reached the captains room he looked around at the map. A screech from outside caught his attention and he looked up to see that parrot from the pirates he screwed over. "No" it flew off and he heard explosions go off only managing to encase himself with fire as protection a split second before it reached him.

Screaming he flew out the window, gaining a few cuts and scrapes before falling into the water several feet away from his ship. When he came up for air he stayed low and hid behind another ship. The timing was fairly obvious, those pirates were sent by Zhao to kill him.

Meanwhile at the northpole Sokka was laying down on his cozy fur bed ready for sleep when he felt his whole body heat up and pain on his right eye and cheek. "Sokka?" Katara said from the doorway "oh my gods what did he do now?"

Sokka brought his hand up to his cheek and lifted it away to reveal blood just before he had the breath knocked out of him for a good few seconds. Gasping for air once it was flowing again he looked up at her "I..."

"Look you dont have to admit anything but I think someone just tried to kill Zuko... or maybe they succeeded..."

"What? No, he's indestructible, he probably got away and fell or something" He hopes... wait... why would he hope that? Zuko is a prick, he doesn't care if he dies or not.

"For both of your sakes I hope he survived" Katara said, reaching to her necklace

"You never did tell us how you gor that back... did you?" Sokka narrowed his eyes

Katara gave a shy smile "well, I told Aang... guess I forgot to tell you, my bad... Zuko gave it back actually."

"What?" Sokka's shock was more than clear in his voice

"Oh dont sound so shocked Sokka, when the pirates attacked he gave the necklace to me before tying me up and... he actually was the one to give me back the scroll and cut the string... called it a favor and told me to get lost though" she gave a shrug "here, let me help you with those cuts, maybe it'll help him too"

Sokka smiled at her and closed his eyes when she reached him with that glowing water. The sting of the cut was soothed by the cold water almost instantly. "Thank you Katara"

"No problem, now get to sleep so you can get back to wooing the princess tomorrow" she teased

"I am not wooing her, I'm just... I like her okay? And she doesn't have a soulmate but she likes me... or at least I hope she does... I just want to make her happy while I'm here." He paused "I cant be her forever abviously" he gestured to his scar "but I can at least be there for her now right? I think that would be enough to make her happy for a short while" Katara gave a knowing look and juat nodded before Aang came back

"Pakku trained you longer today huh? Early tomorrow we're doing one on one?"

"Yeah, he wanted to make sure I didn't have any distractions" Aang rolled his eyes "and yeah, one on one's are tomorrow, you're gonna kick their butts"

Back on a firenation ship away from the found family and heading towards Ice and cold Zuko was harboring with Iroh on Zhao's ship "you didn't have to do this" he whispered to his uncle while sliding the front cover of his helmet off

"No son of mine is going to stow away on a ship without some back up" wait... son?

"Son?" Zuko asked in a stuttered whisper

Iroh gave a soft chuckle "sorry, I misspoke dear nephew... anyhow, do you have a plan?"

"Im working on it" Zuko slid his cover back on and averted his eyes "When will we reach the pole?"

"By late evening tomorrow.. hide out in the life boat docks, nobody checks those besides me and Jee"

And thats just what he did, resting between the barrels surrounded by ropes and oars. That night Jee managed to slip in to check on him. "Prince" he heard Jee call out to which he sturred and snapped his fingers to alert him to where he was "ah, prince, I came here to give you this"

Jee held out the hair ribbon that had fallen from his hair when he fell out of the ship. "Thank you Jee, I guess I should wear it somewhere else for now"

"Your neck would be best, though that would be more of a placement for a betrothal necklace in their culture so I suggest you wear it around wither your wrist or ankle"

"Betrothal? Like engagement or marraige?.is that what Katara wore? I thought she was fourteen.."

"Yes, that is what she wore, though I feel it was probably passed down in her family and likely does not symbolize engagement." Jee spoke softly while Zuko lifted his sleeve for Jee to tie the ribbon around his forearm

"They've been through alot, I just hope it doesn't mean something too terribly important since I gave it back to her"

"You what?" Jee said as he finished tying the ribbon and pulled down Zuko's sleeve

"Hah, yeah, I wanted to do something... nice I guess..."

"Are you coming around for him" Jee wiggled his eyebrows at Zuko with a grin

"Oh my Agni, shut uuuup" he shoved Jee who only laughed

"Y'know... you remind me alot of my younger brother... before he well.. yeah, the war isn't nice to anyone" Jee gave a small sigh

"How do I remind you of him?"

"Oh you know, stubborn, dramatic, gloomy," Zuko glared at him but Jee only chuckled "and a heart of gold covered in dust laid there by others"

That statement stayed with him the entire time he was breaking into the northpole. A heart of gold. His mind echoed as he came out of the water to find the seal turtle cove. Covered in dust. Rang out as he leapt into the next tunnel. "Laid there by others" he gasped out once he resurfaced in the icetunnel.

He let out a small breath of fire and looked out over the village he was now in. This village would be attacked come sunrise. He only had a small amount of time to rest and get his bearings before then.

He had to find Sokka... no.. no he had to find Aang, though he hoped Sokka was safe with his sister.

Why was he here, what was he doing here? He was here for the avatar... but he couldnt stop thinking about Sokka and his bright blue eyes and his quick thinking. He couldnt help but think about how this would likely hurt him.

He gave a sigh before standing... there was something warm calling him. Not so much calling, but... pulling. He wasn't about to ignore it so he walked towards the heat, but made sure to keep out of sight.

The cold was bitter but not unwelcome... he could live here if he had to right attire. "Look princess, you don't have to have a soulmate to find love" was that... Sokka? He hid behind the wall and peered around it to look at him

"I know that Sokka, but we both know you're already chosen for someone. I appreciate you helping me feel loved while I was here but he will need you" the princess spoke and Sokka looked out away from her

"I know.. but I doubt he'd ever even choose me over his stupid honor" he looked back to her "is it bad to say that I like him? I mean, Yue, Ive always hated my scar, its just so... terrible, you know? But on him?"

Sokka gave a sigh "its not so bad... I mean his eyes Yue, they're so.... so gold its like they're glowing, he's beautiful Yue... but not only that he's strong... and I... I just rambled didn't I?"

Yue laughed "you did" she placed her hand on his unscarred cheek "but that is alright, perhaps Zuko will be able to listen to you ramble on after the war"

Zuko's face was practically boiling at this point, he had to get out of there and find Aang. That is exactly what he did. He found the oasis and spotted Aang and Katara. Wow, so thats what a calm avatar glow is? Nice to not have it detroying your fucking ship.

How he managed to get Aang tied up and in a cave is between him and a specific waterbender who could and would kill him but he'd never actually kill her. No amount of money could convince him to actually kill someone. But here he was with Aang waking up and giving him not a scared or angry look, just a... disappointed look.

"Really?" The airbender said with irritation.

Zuko sighed and just untied the rope and handed it to Aang "yeah yeah, I know, again right? Just tie me up and leave me here"

Aang certainly tied him up but he also tossed him onto the back of Appa when he landed and flicked Sokka's nose so he'd feel it. "I said leave me" he pouted

"And I didnt agree to it" Aang chirped and landed at the lead for Appa

"You didnt even say anything to it"

"Exactly now shut up and accept the help flippy"

"Flippy? Where did that come from?"

Aang just turned to him and then back to where he was steering Appa "You know where"

"Whatever" he pouted and turned away from them.

Watching the scene with Zhao, his uncle and the trio plus Yue play out Zuko worked on untying himself and luckily Sokka left his machete on the saddle and he was able to utilize that because dang were those knots good.

He ran after where he knew Zhao would flee and gave chase as soon as he spotted him. Throwing a fire blast at him and watching his face turn from defense to confusion to shock was amusing. "You? Impossible!"

"You tried to have me killed!" He screamed out as he landed on the ice beside Zhao

"Of course I did, youre the blue spirit, a traitor to the firenation!" The fight went on

"I had no choice!" Zuko cried out

"You could have chosen to accept your failure! Maybe then you could have lived!"

"Why would I want to live knowing a man who's biggest threat was a fucking fish beat me when I can easily break through his supposedly impenetrable fort and steal a twelve year old right from under his nose!" Zuko taunted with a laugh

"Because then you might have a chance to see your father one last time!" Zhao taunted back while jumping to the bridge

Zuko gave a shout and swept a fire circle under Zhao's feet and sent him to the ground "I dont want to see that bastard again unless he's six feet under when he loses to the avatar"

"So you are joining them?" Zhao growled out.

"No. I'm just accepting what needs to happen." He didnt manage to make his final blow because the water spirit swallowed up Zhao who refused his helping hand when offered.

The trek to Iroh and Jee at the small raft was easier than the journey in. He sat cross legged on the edge, just simply watching the waters "uncle... can you cut my hair?"

Iroh turned to him "of course Zuko... might I ask why?"

"Because I'm not on the side of fire anymore"

Iroh gave a small sigh but nodded "let me cut my hair with you? I've been waiting for you to decide this for some time" And so Zuko and Iro shed their high hairstyles, watching the hair float away.

"Are you planning on reaching out to young Sokka soon?" Jee asked with a small smile

"No, I just want to sleep"

"Then you should rest prince Zuko," a gentle but firm hand was placed on Zuko's shoulder "a man needs his rest" Zuko looked at Iroh who had placed his hand there and then to Jee who jusf nodded

"Okay" was all he said before laying down on the raft and drifting to sleep.

[inventors-fair]

Shareholders Meeting (Generosity Commentary)

This was absolutely new territory for me, 100%. I used to be a Sen Triplets player, for cryin’ out loud. Who would I give my opponents anything, ever, for any reason? But that’s the beauty of this, though. Being a Magic player and running design contests means I have to see beyond what I might want to play with right off the bat. And I do have my manipulative tactics from time to time. Has anyone seen that Modern deck that synergizes with Suture Priest/Blood Seeker, Hunted Phantasm, Forbidden Orchard, Sickness in the Ranks, and Blood Artist? It’s jank but I love it.

When talking about these cards, there are the usual questions about design and likes/dislikes, but there’s the most important question, and one that’s gonna come up a lot:

Is there any reason this card HAS to enter under an opponent’s control?

The main issue I saw with a lot of cards is that there wasn’t always a reason for them to be under an opponent’s control, instead of just having an effect that could exist on the card regularly. For this commentary, I’ll be calling that a “Control Factor.” Also, some cards that were potential winners/runners will be marked as Judge Picks.

Let’s take a look.

@aethernalstars​ — Labyrinthine Towershell

Likes/Dislikes: This is an oddball design first and foremost. I can see the inspiration from the art, and while I don’t play WoW I can get the gist of what that place is, what the world is, through your design, so that’s nice! Shroud being what it is, though, and considering an opponent gains control of it, I’m not sure why that was chosen over hexproof. Just so an opponent can’t get rid of it with targeting effects? I can see how this would slow them down. I’m not sure why blue/red are the colors for this card. It feels mostly blue/green. Is the red because of the control? Additionally, I feel that even with the color weight this card is severely undercosted; you made a powerful ability, which is good! Just needs balance.

Control Factor: I’m feel that this could have been a hexproof creature with “Whenever a creature an opponent controls” etc. to affect their board that way. What’s the flavor of an opponent gaining control of this? Why not just have the turtle as a kind of maze guardian? It’s a strong ability and contender.

Nitpicks: Second ability should probably be an “as” ability and not an ETB trigger, and needs “an opponent of your choice.” Or see Xantcha’s oracle.

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@askkrenko​ — Maheer, Trusted Advisor (JUDGE PICK)

Likes/Dislikes: I had a headache trying to figure out what this card would do practically on the battlefield. And you know what? I had a field day and I loved it and wow, this card is a competitive player’s dream. The resource management, the potential loss, the incredible decisions to be made, the way that this has to be utilized for optimizing life loss and card advantage and deciding who gets what where... Wow. I can imagine this card being in some competitive cube and/or actually severely affecting eternal formats and/or limited. Impressive and difficult. For two mana I’d say it’s pushed, but pushed ain’t broken. Probably.

Control Factor: Yes, the switching of control for life loss and the flavor of a lying advisor traveling across the battlefield works both flavorfully and mechanically.

Nitpicks: “Activate this ability,” not “Use.”

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@dabudder​ — Bounty Board

Likes/Dislikes: Fight is a difficult ability sometimes. And this card has repeatable fight, colorless fight, and ramping. I feel that that’s just enough to be a break. Arena and Triangle of War are old as butts, and nowadays I don’t know if there would be that much of a precedent at such a low cost. If you have a good enough board state even in limited, this card becomes a gold-giver in exchange for destruction at two mana. I do like the flavor, and the flavor text ain’t bad. Probably still too big a risk.

Control Factor: I like the flavor but I don’t understand it entirely. Who is on the bounty board? Your creatures, or your opponent’s creatures? If it’s yours, why are you playing a card that puts a bounty on them? If it’s your opponents, wouldn’t YOU get the reward for fulfilling the bounty?

Nitpicks: “Gold” should be capitalized, and probably be “Treasure.”

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@deafeningsandwichpeach​ — Ancient Sea Gate

Likes/Dislikes: I feel that unfortunately this card is fundamentally broken, and not in your favor. Yeah, they skip a draw step, but now you’re giving an opponent a land that can activate a Emmessi Tome for two mana every turn. At that point you’ve lost a land drop, you’ve given them card advantage at the cost of a single draw step, and you are immediately and woefully behind. The mechanics of this card as they are now are interesting, absolutely interesting, and absolutely unplayable.

Control Factor: Mechanically I kind of see what you were trying to go for. Flavorfully I don’t understand at all.

Nitpicks: None. (Well, I mean, the border for lands that make colored mana should match, but that’s not your fault at all.)

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@dimestoretajic​ — Xantcha, Enlightened Infiltrator

Likes/Dislikes: Once I could read this card, I understood its intentions. It’s a strong callback to Xantcha, so you know, kudos for that. And also, this card only works in multiplayer, which is a bit of a problem. If you only have one opponent, then you play this card, you activate the 0 and draw/lose life, and then you have to attack her until she gets to ten because that zero ability literally can’t be activated. If you’re the only opponent, then nobody can be targeted. Was that intentional? If so, kudos for making a complex card but un-kudos because that feels super unintuitive. “lowest numerical value” also doesn’t entirely make sense to me, because it’s not a “negative ten” ability, it’s “remove ten loyalty counters” as an activation cost. 

                         I feel that there could be a risk-reward potentially associated with this card, or you could add the must abilities into the activations themselves, but it’s hovering in between clunky and unplayable. Assuming the best, that you’re in a 3-4 player game, you have a insanely-difficult-to-remove clock for three mana that draws you a crapload of cards. Which, you know, some people could like! But it’s the kind of card that doesn’t make you friends.

Control Factor: Yep, checks out. See above notes on opponent targeting in 1v1, though.

Nitpicks: “0″ abilities don’t need a plus or minus. Was this a card creator limiting factor? If so, ignore my ignorance.

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@emmypupcake — Volatile Mixture

Likes/Dislikes: It’s a cute bauble that swings around and hurts people, checks out. Colored artifact with a relevant ability, sure thing. How does it play? ... Well, I was doubtful and then I read it again. Wow, I really misread this card. So you’re playing hot potato for a whole lot of turns. Okay, that’s fun. That’s fun! Yeah, I totally messed up when I read this the first time. I think that this card is pretty interesting in concept. I think that it could kind of be just a tax, though, and it’s entirely possible that it just never goes off during a game and everyone is spending two mana to ensure that they don’t get stuck. Or, for three mana, you’ve made kind of a worse shock. It’s a perfectly fine card that probably needs a more volatile gimmick. What if it flipped coins or something? I don’t know, I’m spitballing. Hm, but no, ignore that, I’m liking the flavor of having to keep it under control. Shame that it just doesn’t have a guaranteed explosion.

Control Factor: Fun enough to use the wording, juggles well, forces decisions. Checks out!

Nitpicks: “Volatile Mixture enters the battlefield under target opponent’s control.” Could also Xantcha that wording.

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@evscfa1​ — Contract of Peace

Likes/Dislikes: There’s nothing fundamentally wrong with this card’s design, but it feels clunky to say the least. Four separate abilities that are tangentially connected, the weird activation, the static... I think, more than anything, I don’t get it. What’s the contract? What’s the peace of a one-sided battlefield? Is it ironic, with a bribery type of activation? What do the Treasures have to do with peace? This card could be printed but again, I don’t understand why it would exist, or the world around it, or what sort of set it would belong in. “Disjointed” is a good word for this card. A singular design that doesn’t feel like it meshes with any flavor or archetype. All cards are submitted without context, but the best cards imply context, and that’s where I feel the mark was missed.

Control Factor: Is an opponent being forced to sign a contract? Again, the “why” of this card feels obfuscated.

Nitpicks: “15” should be written out as “fifteen.”

~~~

@fractured-infinity​ — Sleeper Agent’s Gambit

Likes/Dislikes: I loved this card until I didn’t. On the surface, you have a fantastic flavorful design with great flavor text and a new, silly ability. And then, for three mana, you essentially ensure that your opponents are going to have the most frustrating time of their lives. In limited, this card is an early-game decimator, and that’s...well, it feels a little harsh. Two targets (creature you control + opponent) and the multicolored factor aren’t that hard to get around, and once you do, my gut says that this card is more frustrating than fun, especially when you consider some of the creatures that you can give to your opponent. How could it have been improved? Well, consider: what if it was an aura? It could be put on a creature then given to an opponent, and it had those abilities. “Gambits” are calculated but still have a risk, like a non-indefinite strategy. I want to like this idea but I’m still getting frustrating over fun. Look at Necrotic Plague, for example. In kind of the same vein, y’know?

Control Factor: Perfect.

Nitpicks: If all else fails and you wanna keep this card, the wording could be a little more streamlined: “Target opponent gains control of target creature you control. That creature gains ‘This permanent can’t be sacrificed’ and ‘At the beginning of your upkeep, sacrifice a creature.’” For your future, make sure “can’t” replaces “cannot,” and that punctuation goes inside quotes.

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@fumblehawk​ — Gwafa, Monopolous Merchant

Likes/Dislikes: Out of all the things I expected, a different take on Gwafa “MF’in’” Hazid was not one of them. So the card itself! It’s cool. It’s a little weird, but it’s cool. I like the idea of drawing cards as payment for forcing gifts. The tax effect is something very interesting to consider with how much this card kind of wants to get rid of cards, and you can end up giving things that tax all players, and even make some kind of freaky Zedruu deck. I mean, this feels MADE for Zedruu and Grand Arbiter and all kinds of EDH decks. The thing is, this card doesn’t feel too different from the OG Gwafa, and I don’t know how to feel about that. There’s nothing wrong with revisiting legendary creatures, of course, but the effect... I don’t know, I’m iffy on it. This is a strong submission but I feel that there could have been a different method of execution.

Control Factor: Checks out!

Nitpicks: The “draw a card” should be a separate sentence, just like, “They do the thing. Draw a card.” Secondly, it’s “Spells your opponents CAST cost” etc. Small note, but...this card is really small. Consider downloading Magic Set Editor or finding a better way to export your cards, if you can? 

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@gollumni​ — Gift of Humility

Likes/Dislikes: Don’t be humble, you finished your final! Congrationulations! So this card. It’s a’ight? So here’s the thing. Nine Lives + this card. HA. Hilarious! Delusions of Mediocrity! Illusions of Grandeur! Nefarious Lich! There’s a lot of mean and dumb and fun synergies with this card, and the thing is, well, I know you were in a place when you submitted this. So I’ll excuse the lack of flavor text and whatever and just say that, like Harmless Offering from Eldritch Moon, this card has potential and still nobody’s gonna want to open it from a booster pack. Unless it becomes massively competitive in some stupid Esper Lich Control deck.

Control Factor: Yep, that’s the point of the card!

Nitpicks: Get some sleep.

~~~

@hiygamer​ — Tibalt, Chaotic Menace

Likes/Dislikes: It’s interesting how many legendary cards people submitted for this contest. Hm, guess we did have three as example designs. Regardless! So the activated abilities are the best part of this card. I do like the tension between a random player and a random player who’s not Tibalt’s owner. In 1v1 this can get really tense. Ditch a card at random, flip a coin, aaaand... Nope, you’re stuck with him. My main complaint is the second trigger. “The number of loyalty counters that were on him as the turn began?” There are so many memory issues potentially associated with that. The more triggers that go off and the more factors that go into calculating that, the less reasonable that ability becomes. This card isn’t bad, and I know why you wanted that ability, but there has to be a better way of making that happen. I’d workshop that a bit. And also, if you’re using MSE? Consider changing individual text sizes because wow this card is hard to read. 

Control Factor: Yep, makes sense that he’s going around wrecking face, and the complexities are totally fine.

Nitpicks: I’m pretty sure the first ability should read “You must activate at least one of Tibalt’s abilities each turn if able.” Then “whenever” is just...weird and gets into Judge Tower territory.

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@hypexion​ — Jenny Spellshare

Likes/Dislikes: So let’s start off with the fact that I like this card’s abilities a lot. That’s... Well, honestly, I don’t even have to qualify that. It’s a powerful Bant commander with crazy group-hug abilities and LOTS of token copies that, while powerful, can be mitigated into some nasty stuff. You got wheels, eggs, control cards, draw limiters—like, imagining setting up things like Hullbreacher and the ilk and going nuts with copies. So yeah, fun Commander card and could even be interesting in limited! My two minor complains that stop this from being really great: One, a faerie creature without flying hasn’t been printed in a non-supplemental set since 1995. Two... “Jenny?” “Judith” at least has Hebrew origins, but man, that name threw me off. I do have a friend named Jenny who plays Magic, funnily enough. Yeah, heh, just something to consider. Kinda takes me out of the world. Consider flavor text?

Control Factor: Perfect for what you want to do.

Nitpicks: What is UP with that line spacing? Did you hit shift+enter? I’m talking about between “cast” and “Whenever.” Or did that just go to a separate line. In any cast those should DEFINITELY be separated. ... Wow, don’t we all love nitpicks. This is probably the nit-picky-est one I’ve done in a while.

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@i-am-the-one-who-wololoes​ — Xymik, Who Gifts Pain

Likes/Dislikes: So, yeah, Xymic is a name I want to hold me up against a brick wall and weight its body on me, midnight on Halstead street, neon blurs in the air. That is a sexy name. ... Cards? Cards. SO. It’s pretty good. I can see this being part of either a supplemental Commander set OR equally a standard Grixis-themed set, which we haven’t had in a while. Really sucks that Ikoria was both not great gameplay wise and also released in the middle of a pandemic. For this card, personally, I initially thought “well you can just merge them” but I see what you did, clever clogs! Donate a permanent, make ‘em chuck a card. Multiplayer, send a permanent around the table, make ‘em lose life! Huh, this is actually kind of awesome. Small personal factors: I would pump the P/T a little, perhaps, for a four-color card; this could be as much as a 5/3. This does feel more like a Demon than a Devil to me, too. And, a tiny bit of flavor text could go a long way. Could you also have the second ability read “spell or permanent?” It’s niche, but...

Control Factor: Perf-a-rooni.

Nitpicks: None!

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@justincase-1012​ — Fire Ant Infestation

Likes/Dislikes: Conceptually, this is cool. Ant infestations done flavorfully are neat, and I like the aspect of you not having to continuously deal damage because you can hit once and then pseudo-populate. On second thought reviewing this card, I think that that’s surprisingly flavorful. Once the ants get in, the rest of the ants can just pump in more freakin’ ants. There are wording nitpicks I’ll get to later, but the gist of this card is that it’s very strong and requires a balance to also make the damage from attacking tokens not hit you too. You know what, I’ll give it a tentative seal of approval. I don’t really get why it’s a 1/3 and not, well, a 3/1, and I’m not sold on the flavor of an “infestation” being a creature. “Fire Ant Colony” could work? Not super flavorful, but it’s in progress. Also, MAJOR issue: There’s a card called Fire Ants with a different ability. Named tokens of previous cards absolutely exist, see Future Sight spellshapers, but this one is way too similar. “Fire Ant Drone” maybe.

Control Factor: Yup, does what it’s gotta do.

Nitpicks: Wording time: “...that player creates a 1/1 red and black Insect creature token named Fire Ant with “At the beginning of your upkeep, Fire Ant deals 1 damage to you.”” And see above notes on that token name.

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@koth-of-the-hammerpants — Temporary Loan

Likes/Dislikes: There is a fundamental flaw in how this card works when you have two extra mana. So, you play this turn four, and now it’s turn five on your go. You drop a three-mana creature, then give it to an opponent, then they give you a random permanent, then you immediately pay UB and sacrifice what they gave you to get your card back. So this card effectively becomes “Whenever a permanent enters the battlefield under your control, you may pay UB. If you do, target opponent sacrifices a permanent” in the most roundabout way. In short, this card is not fun, especially with lands that you can tap for mana in response to entering. under your control.

Control Factor: Flavorfully understandable, see above mechanical notes. Not worth it.

Nitpicks: The “If you do” clause is a run-on sentence and should end with “...a permanent they control and you gain control of it.” “Sacrifice” and “Gain” should be capitalized. And, um... “Time’s up my friend” should definitely be “Time’s up, my friend.” with a period. Because otherwise it sounds like the friend is Christopher Walken in Pulp Fiction.

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@mardu-lesbian​ — Grift Horse (JUDGE PICK)

Likes/Dislikes: My eyes could not roll out of my head any harder at that name. Stellar work. So! This card! Wow. “Gimme the goods, then I’m gonna wreck shop.” For a four-mana potential fun removal gimmick and an indefinite steal, this is a surprisingly powerful card. “Gimme Ugin, aaaand...here’s a horse. AND BOLT THE HORSE.” Also, I had to double-check, but good wording on that second ability! Scab-Clan Giant, yeah? In short, this does sort of kind of become a rough removal card and more or less wrecks shop with an opponent’s bomb, but rares are supposed to be powerful, y’know? I can’t fault it for that. I’d love to see this in limited, I’d love to see some EDH bullcrap go down with making an indestructible horse or whatever, and hm, what would the art be? Maybe an Eldrazi horse, actually, with tentacles coming out of the mouth. Horse Horror? Yeah, this opens the question: “how powerful can red’s indefinite stealing be?”

Control Factor: Shifty Thrifty Grifty.

Nitpicks: If you’re using MSE, you can adjust the flavor bar offset. Also I’m officially challenging you to draw this horse.

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@misterstingyjack​ — Mercenary Contract

Likes/Dislikes: So...okay, so you’re turning a creature you control into a mercenary for your opponents? Kind of? You’re getting gold for the things they’re doing, makes sense. I guess. This card’s kind of hard to work around. It’s a lot of text, too. So the thing is, I don’t really get why you’d have to give something to an opponent for this flavor to work. Enchant a creature you control, it gets a buff and has to attack, and whenever it attacks you get a Treasure. Spreading things around doesn’t make the most sense in the world, honestly. But I do get it, and I think I understand the gameplay prioritization you were shooting for. I’m being a little harsh on the card because I feel that in a printed set it could just be worded/printed differently. Fundamentally, it’s not the strangest thing in the world.

Control Factor: See above notes about flavor. Main problem is that why is your contract sending it to work for an opponent? Wouldn’t the opponent have to sign something? Contracts are hard.

Nitpicks: “Whenever enchanted creature attacks or an ability of enchanted creature is activated, if its owner does not control it, that player creates a Treasure token.” See Illusionist’s Bracers.

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@nicolbolas96​ — Slimeknife,Mercenary Thallid

Likes/Dislikes: Step one: play Pandemonium/Warstorm Surge. Step two: get literally a 1/1 creature or token. Step three: infinite cards/ETB triggers. That last ability has a LOT of random infinite combos it can do, and I kind of like that, but it’s really asking to be abused. But that’s not a bad thing. Kind of. There are probably more ways to deal damage and whatnot. So the thing is, this card does give the tokens to your opponents, but...why? What major flavorful purpose does it serve? Dowsing Dagger created Plants because it symbolized the undergrowth that the creature had to cut through. Hunted creatures made tokens because they were, well, being hunted. What about Slimeknife? That ability really doesn’t feel like it needs to be on this card, and this card honestly could be a rare. It’s a GREAT deathtouch commander, probably one of the best if it existed. Doesn’t excuse that disconnect, though. ... And yes, “Fungus Assassin” is awesome.

Control Factor: Ultimately, not necessary. The card works better without it.

Nitpicks: “Creature tokens,” not “token creatures.” See Aven Wind Guide. Also, check the comma in the name?

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@nine-effing-hells​ — Overeager Adjutant

Likes/Dislikes: I’m kind of worried about this card. A one-mana 3/3 with haste is pretty nasty. Goblin Guide and Monastery Swiftspear are already challenging enough, with Vexing Devil also thrown into the burn pile. The question is whether or not the drawback of 1/1s that can’t block and the card disadvantage will be good enough to stop an aggro build. In theory, there would come a point in limited where your opponents are drawing extra cards and playing creatures the Adjutant can’t get through, or you’re doing some nasty removal... But a strong aggro player running something like Burchett’s Gruul build or a devastating Human midrange build will use this card to their advantage. Questions of flavor come up, too. How is eagerness creating tokens? Drawing cards is a maybe, but the things that are being done don’t feel connected to, say, the attacking or you having creatures enter. 

Control Factor: I don’t understand flavorfully where the humans are coming from and why they can’t block this creature.

Nitpicks: None.

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@real-aspen-hours​ — Gift // grift (JUDGE PICK)

Likes/Dislikes: Well, it’s a split card. And it’s a good split card. And it does good things. So, I won’t beat around the bush, the nitpicks are really what doomed this card. There’s just a lot that I had to excuse to make it a judge pick, which is kind of a bummer but against the other submissions, it stands out. So let’s leave that for that section and talk about the good things. I love the rhyming split card names. Frankly, I want to have a future split card contest just to see the weirdness that people come up with. “Gift” is a perfectly acceptable upshifted Harmless Offering, and wow, “grift” is one of the most powerful and frightening cards I’ve seen in a while. It’s reminiscent of Skyclave Apparition, but with the Treasure advantage. This card can 100% take over games and worth playing in nonred decks for that alone. It might need to be four mana, possibly even five, but I do like it a lot.

Control Factor: Yep, “Gift” does it, and actually “grift” too. Heh, it’s neat.

Nitpicks: 1) Grift needs to be capitalized. 2) Your submission was missing rarity. 3) I capitalized “Sorcery” for you but in your original submission both were lowercase. 4) Both rules texts were missing periods at the end. 5) “Nonland” is one word. 5) “Its,” not “it’s.” 6) “Treasure” needs to be capitalized.

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@shakeszx — Alder Hahn, helpful recruiter

Likes/Dislikes: So this is pretty obviously a Commander-oriented card, and that’s alright. I was iffy about some of the flavor stuff, but actually, the “my men always collect” line aligns nicely with the Treasure token creation. Attacks OR blocks—that’s a good catch. Makes 1v1 matches not too overpowered, and you can get some awesome control in. Giving defender tokens to players, or forcing them to block bad attacks... This could be a pretty fun card, honestly. The more I think about it the more I’m down for it. It’s outside of my ordinary play style, but there are symmetrical effects and bribery fun stuff that could make this a funky little card. Not a fan of the name at all, though. “Helpful Recruiter” doesn’t tell me anything about, like, why he’s recruiting, or who his men are, or his motivations, or whatever. The flavor text is great but “helpful” is just...ech, I’m overthinking it. “Recruiter” too, though, like, is he forcing them to be recruited? It feels more like reconnaissance or Mafia-style forced brutality. 

Control Factor: Bingo, we’re gettin’ boys.

Nitpicks: Capitalize all important words in the name. Also, the second ability could be “Whenever a creature you own but don’t control attacks or blocks,” right?

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@thedirtside — Burden of Parenthood

Likes/Dislikes: A mythic Nettlevine Blight-ish self-replicated token giver of awesome proportions that means players have to carefully strategize their creature interactions over time? Awesome. I like how if they get two of them, then... You... Oh, wait, it’s... Ha, um, there might be a lil’ flaw here. So, Opponent has a Squire, you play BoP. Their first upkeep, they get their Squire token. You do yours. Their second upkeep, they stack the triggers: “I’m going to have the Burden upkeep trigger resolve first, giving me a copy of my Squire. Then, the first token trigger will resolve, and I’ll sacrifice the second token I created this way.” So all this card does until you get rid of it is allow them to carefully make a token then sac a token each turn. Was that intentional? If so, well, why? Kinda falls apart when you take into consideration Magic’s #weirdness. Also. What does this have to do with parenthood. I’m genuinely stumped what the flavor is supposed to convey. Is this like...people being forced to give birth to putrescent goblins or something??

Control Factor: This part does check out, yeah. However, the contest specified that you weren’t supposed to use effects that gave each player something.

Nitpicks: There shouldn’t really be “target” there. “Nonland” is one word. The base power and toughness should be “1/1″ instead of “1.”

~~~

@walker-of-the-yellow-path​ — Questing Grail (JUDGE PICK)

Likes/Dislikes: ETB ability, fantastic, okay, we’re conveying that you’re giving someone a challenge your creatures are going to tackle. Attack trigger, fantastic, they’re getting the thrill of the hunt and the charge. Damage trigger, the blood is being spilled and the opponent is considering how much they want to then increase the damage all around and the risk of combat. This card makes combat so complicated, and so much more thrilling, and wowza this would make for some insane limited games. I have two issues. Firstly, this needs to be legendary for the love of God this needs to be legendary. It would fit the flavor, and then the three separate triggers wouldn’t be a pain. As much. Secondly, the last ability. So, are you supposed to get a blood counter on it for each creature that deals combat damage? Because unless something has first strike, it’s going to all happen at the same time. Multiple counters, or just when you get hit for the first time? The intentions are unclear. So I would phrase it to say “Whenever one or more creatures deal combat damage to you, put [a OR that many] blood counter[s] on Questing Grail and their controller gains control of Questing Grail.” Aside from that, this is some Eldraine-y Knight-y Bloody Greatness. 

Control Factor: 10/10. 

Nitpicks: None!

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@whuh-oh​ — Gilded Egg // Prized Hatchling (JUDGE PICK)

Likes/Dislikes: This card is a pain in the butt. I love it! So, let’s see. The ways in which you have to ramp up to getting this card specifically under your control is really weird, and measured, and you have to take care of some careful calculation. The sorcery speed is super important, though, and I’m glad you added that in. And man, hatchling counters? Ludevic would be proud. On the flip side, a 2/4 flier in green is pretty rough. I don’t know entirely how I feel about that part specifically. The Food token, ha, that’s glorious. The mana generation, though? WOW. Alhammarret’s Archive makes a whole lot of cool infinite stuff possible, but it’s not easy, I’ll say that much. The mana with the food, like—Wow again. I am Wowed.

Control Factor: The tempting offer and the opportunity is really well-done. Plays nice with the flavor of the sought-after prize.

Nitpicks: Tsk, go back to Modern Masters (2013) witcha “is indestructible”-lookin’ self, CHUMP. ... Ahem. Sorry, I got possessed by the ghost of someone from 2013 elated to open a Vedalken Shackles.

~~~

@wolkemesser​ — Eden

Likes/Dislikes: Alright, there are...a few points to start from. 

Mechanically: if Eden’s controller is doing anything but adding a single mana with this card, then they are bad Magic player, or they have an exact and direct answer to the token being created, because poisonous 3 and a “lose the game” token (with evasion) are so utterly broken that there is no way you’d want an opponent to gain control of them. Even in a 3+ person game, what happens to you? Play Eden, give it to someone last in the order, they give your next opponent a skulking deathtoucher, and then you lose the game. This can happen as early as turn one. In 1v1 this card has no real purpose other than to be used once and basically never again unless someone is forced to use it. In multiplayer games it’s a death sentence. You’re losing a land drop from the deck for a card that won’t ever be used in a way that’s advantageous to your gameplan.

Contextually: In what set is this card supposed to exist? You use both Skulk and Poisonous, retired and unpopular mechanics that don’t appear on the same token even if they do have a possibility of being together. In what environment would this card be played?

Flavorfully: So this is the real, Biblical garden of Eden? Or at least it’s supposed to be? Why are there multiple snakes being made, then? Satan entered the body of a single snake, not a snake that grew more powerful, and the garden entirely was more than just that one tree, granting knowledge, not power. You’ve made a garden of temptation, not paradise.

As a final note after all that rambling, if it was indeed read: On the most technical level, and I hate to say it, the Bible is...Christian IP, basically. There is no Magic world in which Eden could exist because of that. Some religious symbols have also become fantasy tropes such as angels and demons, but the concept of angelic protectors and demonic lords have existed beyond specific religions. This is a specific and sacred religious place. From a strictly professional perspective, err on the side of caution when submitting in the future.

Control Factor: Technically fulfilling.

Nitpicks: The token should be “black and green,” not “green and black.” For the first ability, why strictly from the hand when Crucible of Worlds and whatnot exist?

Tune in next week, when... Well, did you see some of the synergies and combos that I mentioned above? Keep them in mind. Thank you all for your submissions.

—@abelzumi​

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 9: Follow The Rules]

Hi y’all, I hope you are all doing well 💜

Chapter summary: Veronica has some questions, Roger has a plan, John has a short temper. 

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language, medical stuff, pregnancy.

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii​ @loveandbeloved29​ @killer-queen-xo​ @maggieroseevans​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @queenlover05​ @someforeigntragedy​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​ @joemazzmatazz​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​ @namelesslosers​ @inthegardensofourminds​ @deacyblues​ @youngpastafanmug​ @sleepretreat​ @hardyshoe​ @bramblesforbreakfast​ @sevenseasofcats​ @tensecondvacation​ @bookandband​ @queen-crue​ @jennyggggrrr​ @madeinheavxn​ @whatgoeson-itslate​ @brianssixpence​ @simonedk​ @herewegoagainniall​ @stardust-killer-queen​

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! :)

At the wedding, Roger is wearing a cast on his right arm and a dazzling smile...and a white suit that he looks criminally good in.

John is in black, Brian in blue, Freddie in maroon-colored velvet and heavy eyeliner. Veronica’s dress is high-waisted and falls in huge, billowing, shapeless ruffles to hide her silhouette. Her family knows, of course—it’s written all over the tense, grim lines of their mouths and the blades their pale eyes hurl at John—but none of those strict Catholics are going to mention an out-of-wedlock pregnancy in God’s house, nor at the modest reception in the church basement that follows the ceremony.

Veronica’s mother and aunts and sisters are just like her, docile and milky-skinned and small-boned, and you’ve helped them deck the vast room with enough flowers, ribbons, candles, and balloons to make everyone forget this event was thrown together in five weeks and on a shoestring budget. There’s a simple buffet with pot roast and potatoes and vegetables, a live band (some of John’s old friends from high school), and a homemade Polish honey cake baked by Veronica’s grandmother situated regally on a china serving dish. Veronica and John cycle through the tables of guests, smiling and nodding and thanking them for coming, dutifully and yet also seemingly genuinely cheerful.

“The boning is bloody impaling me,” Chrissie murmurs as she tugs at the bodice of her gown. It’s satin and a muted pink, just like yours and Mary’s and Veronica’s sisters’. “If I happen die, wrap me in one of those nice tablecloths I paid for and throw me in a ditch somewhere, will you love?”

“You got it.” You stab a piece of potato with your fork. “This should inspire you to be especially compassionate towards your own bridesmaids! Maybe no horrid shiny green.”

Brian chuckles. “Good luck with that.”

“Are you comfortable?!” Chrissie asks Mary, exasperated, fanning herself with a wedding program.

“I am,” Mary admits cautiously. “But...well...at the moment, I think my dress is a bit...roomier.”

Chrissie moans, dropping her face into her hands. “I always gain when the students go home for summer. My routine is wrecked, all I want to do is read Glamour magazines and listen to records, it’s too damn hot to go walking...and I adore ice cream.”

“I like you just fine,” Brian reassures her.

Freddie snickers as he taps his cigarette against an ashtray. “Yes, we’re all well aware of your anatomical preferences, Bri.”

Chrissie rolls her eyes. “Please do not elaborate.” She’s not offended—she’s far too used to Freddie’s shenanigans to be offended—but she’ll be embarrassed if he makes a scene at a wedding.

“Darling, I don’t care what anyone tries to tell you, plenty of men love a little extra meat on the bones. Particularly the ass bones.”

“We’re in God’s house!” you scold him in a hiss. “You’re going to give Great Aunt Zofia over there an aneurysm if she hears you!”

Roger quips: “Great Aunt Zofia stole the last kielbasa right out of my disabled, ineffectual  grasp, so fuck her.”

You all burst into shocked, uncontrollable laughter. Great Aunt Zofia squints judgmentally at the commotion from several tables away, gnawing on her kielbasa; she’s been glaring at John and Veronica—the Tetzlaffs’ very own fallen angel—since she first ambled into the church. Roger rocks back in his chair, smoking with his unbroken left arm, smirking cockily and basking in the distraction from the real world that the wedding has gifted you all tonight. He catches you watching him—marveling at him, truthfully—and winks.

John appears and rests his hands on the back of your chair. “What’s so amusing? I swear, I leave you people alone for two hours and you’re having all sorts of fun without me, I won’t stand for it!”

“It was a lovely ceremony,” you tell him. “I’d forgotten how beautiful Catholic weddings are, all the music and ambiance.”

“And from what I saw, you knew most of the words.”

“We have a lot of Irish people in Boston. Saint Patrick’s Day is bigger than Christmas.”

John points at Roger’s cast. “It’s not paining you too much, is it?”

Roger holds his Dark ‘n Stormy aloft, and ice clinks in the misted glass. “Enough of these, and I can’t feel anything. Numb to the world’s many disappointments. I highly recommend it.”

“Noted,” John replies. Roger has pills for his arm, but they only take the edge off. You don’t know that because he’s told you; Roger never tells you that he’s hurting, that he’s frustrated, that he’s afraid. He wears grins and flippant humor like a second skin, shrouding his wounds—both physical and disembodied, old and new—in darkness. Still...you can see all those words he doesn’t say swimming in the depths of his eyes. “I think I’ll hunt down a Manhattan myself.”

“Dad made an impression!” you tell John enthusiastically. “I’ll have to let him know, he’ll be overjoyed.”

“He mixes a good one, that’s for sure. I doubt Cousin Bartosz will be able to compare.” He casts a glance at a perplexed-looking, flame-haired teenager manning a tiny wet bar.

“Booze won’t help you heal,” Freddie informs Roger, checking his reflection in Mary’s makeup compact and fluffing his lustrous hair. “Eat your vegetables. Get more sleep. When do you start physical therapy, again?” Then, to you: “Darling, when does Roger start his therapy?”

Roger sighs. “I’ve got it handled, Fred.”

“Dear, don’t have a fit, I just want to make sure you’ll be ready—”

“I’ve got it handled,” Roger repeats, his tone a warning.

Brian breaks the tension with a toast, his Vesper jangling against Roger’s Dark ‘n Stormy. “I’m thrilled, honestly. Now I’m not the only one who’s ruined a tour.”

Roger grimaces. “Thanks, Bri.”

“Yes, let’s all have a turn,” Freddie mutters, sipping champagne. “Deaky can electrocute himself while fiddling with his amp, and then I’ll...what? Have my foot chewed off by an alligator in New Orleans? Get gored by a wild boar outside Atlanta? It just can’t be a boring maiming, that’s my only request.”

“Alaska has grizzlies, huge ones,” Brian suggests.

“Darling, in what dimension would my luxurious self ever end up in fucking Alaska?”

You shake your head, frowning down into your wine glass. It’s June now, the dead center of a crestfallen year: the rest of the Sheer Heart Attack Tour is cancelled, the record company is furious, and the band is broker than ever. Queen is supposed to start recording their next album—their last album, the record company insists, unless it happens to be a runaway success—in July, but you don’t know if Roger’s arm will be healed in time. None of you know that. You wonder if this really is God’s house, or at least one of his homes, sanctified piles of bricks and glass scattered across the globe; maybe you could ask Him where Queen’s future lies.

Veronica swoops in and dusts an airy kiss onto Mary’s cheek, and then Chrissie’s, and then yours. “Thank you so much,” she gushes. Her high cheekbones are flushed, her watery eyes sparkling. She’s in heaven, sinner or not. Her massive white dress swishes with every step. “We couldn’t have done it without you. And you’re next, Chris! I can’t wait.”

Chrissie smiles. She and Brian are getting married just before Christmas. “Yes, well, time will tell if we’ll be serving Christmas ham or canned beans.”

“And then Mary...” Veronica’s gaze migrates across the table. Mary’s been wearing a ring on her wedding finger since Queen returned from Japan, a simple gold band that once belonged to Freddie’s mother. “What about you, Y/N? Any plans? Then we’d all be hitched!”

Red wine spurts from your lips and you fumble for a cloth napkin. Roger doesn’t believe in marriage, and neither do you; not after only four months together, anyway. And yet...is there some part of you that can’t help but think of papers and rings when you get lost in his eyes, of promises of forever, of some way to tie yourself to him like vessels to a heart? Sure; and that’s a little wonderful, that’s a little terrifying. “Uh, uh, oh, oh no, definitely no plans whatsoever.”

“What bollocks!” Rog sneers. “Really, what’s the point if you’re not religious? Who needs a bloody piece of paper to prove they love someone?! ‘I care for you so much I need the government to know we’re together and the hassle of divorce fees to make me stay,’ what the fuck. I mean, uh, no offense John, Bri, uh...this is all well and good for you, but...ah...”

“It’s just not your scene. That’s fine, Rog,” Freddie says with a tad too much empathy. Mary doesn’t seem to notice.

“But you’ll want children at some point, won’t you?” Veronica asks you, almost pained. She’s not trying to be cruel, you realize; she genuinely can’t fathom the pinnacle of a woman’s life as anything but being a wife and mother.

“Theoretically, sure. One day. Eventually.” You titter nervously. Roger’s good arm circles your shoulders, his cigarette lofting smoke. Oh, but wouldn’t he make beautiful children? You push that thought away. It’s too soon, it’s too much, it’s not in the cards for an impoverished maybe-drummer and his girlfriend; and a girlfriend—with all the intangibility and impermanence that title entails—is all I’ll ever be. “I think I need to travel the world a bit more first.”

John sighs and pats the back of Veronica’s hand. What is that weight in his voice...impatience? Annoyance? “Ronnie, please, don’t bother her.”

Veronica sulks, scraping the old scuffed linoleum floor with her pointy white heels. “I wasn’t trying to bother anyone...”

Mary comes to the rescue: “No, of course not. You didn’t, dear.” She likes Veronica more than Chrissie does. Isn’t she oppressively vapid? Chrissie has asked you more than once. Isn’t she so miserably naïve? Veronica is sweet, sure, but she has no fucking idea what she’s in for. “Babies are wonderful, but they do make things harder, don’t you think? Especially for the mother. You have to be ready to drop everything for them. All your other interests and aspirations.”

“I suppose,” Veronica mumbles. You can tell she’s thinking: What other aspirations?

“But you must be so excited!” You beam up at Veronica. It’s her wedding day, and John’s; it should be happy, it should be optimistic. And you’re learning to like Veronica—less than Mary, but more than Chris—because you know that’s the best thing for John.

She instinctively rests her hand on the swell of her belly; or, rather, where it must be somewhere beneath all those heaps of satin and tulle. Great Aunt Zofia’s glare intensifies. “I’m scared to death, to tell you the truth.”

“Why?!” Mary cries.

“I’m so afraid something will happen to him.” Veronica’s voice is soft, her blue eyes glassy. She’s certain the baby is a boy, claims she had some sort of dream about it. “There’s a lot of bad luck going around for us, isn’t there? And my mother lost four babies. Any time he stops moving, I worry constantly until my next appointment. I haven’t felt anything in days, and I just...I just...” She trails off, staring vacantly across the crowded church basement. She’s trying not to cry, you realize.

“I can try to check for you,” you offer. “If it would make you feel better.”

“Really?” Veronica sounds hopeful, but guardedly so.  

“This is embarrassing, but I carry my nurse kit almost everywhere I go now. That’s why I brought my huge blue purse even though it doesn’t match the dress. You know, you can’t be too careful...”

“Yes, who knows when someone will try something idiotic like jogging backwards down the stairs?” Freddie muses. Roger lobs a pierogi at him. Great Aunt Zofia wheezes out a disgusted huff and crosses her veiny, wrinkled arms over her sagging chest.

“I have a stethoscope,” you continue. “I can’t guarantee I’ll find a heartbeat, but I’ll give it a try if that would help.”

“Would you, Y/N?” Veronica clutches for John’s hand, and he lets her take it without any resistance; but he doesn’t seem to know how to comfort her. He has the same dazed look on his face that he has a lot these days, the same look that Bri and Freddie sometimes get: like they’re on autopilot, like they’re actively filtering through brainwaves to fish out any that wander astray. Roger lands a kiss on your bare shoulder and pitches you a playful smirk, his I’m so proud of my too-fucking-smart girlfriend smirk.  

You grab your purse from beneath the table. “Does God’s house have a cozy private spot somewhere?”

Veronica leads you, Mary, and Chrissie to a small unoccupied room that is used (how pertinently) as the church nursery. The pink wallpaper is dotted with waddling ducklings, cloud-shaped sheep leaping over fences, smiling suns and winged cartoonish angels. Veronica settles into a faded blue couch, and Mary and Chris help her shove aside the massive plumes of her wedding dress to reveal the plain shift she’s wearing underneath. She’s over five months along now, and her entirely unremarkable bump seems colossal on her delicate frame.

You pop the headset into your ears and press the chestpiece against Veronica’s unyielding belly, gliding it over the pearly shift as you try different positions.

“Anything?” Mary asks anxiously.

“It’s not bloody instant, Mary!” Chrissie snaps. “Be quiet so she can listen.”

“No need to be cranky—”

“You can’t find a heartbeat, can you?” Veronica says, her voice quivering. “Oh god...”

“Found it,” you announce. You hold the chestpiece in place as you yank the headset off and pass it to Veronica.

She gapes at you. “You’re just saying that so I’ll stop worrying, aren’t you?”

“Hear for yourself.”

Veronica takes the headset and listens, closing her eyes as the rapid-fire and rhythmic swishing of her child’s heartbeat floods through her ears. “Oh,” she breathes, beaming. “There he is.”

“That’s incredible!” Mary trills. “Can I hear too, Veronica? Whenever you’re finished...”

Mary listens, and Chrissie does too, and then you all help touch up Veronica’s hair and makeup before you head back to the reception. The cake is due to be cut in twelve minutes. As you smooth the short train on her dress, Veronica turns back to you.

“Do you think I’m a bad person?” she asks timidly, hugging her belly. “You know...for this.”

“That’s something I’ve always liked about nursing. So many jobs require sorting out who’s right and wrong, casting judgment, assigning punishment. There’s no weighing of the moral scales in medicine. It doesn’t matter if a patient is trustworthy, deceitful, good, bad, worthy, undeserving, if they disappoint you, if they’re the ones who hurt themselves. You treat everyone, you heal everyone. And I would like to keep that part of myself for as long as I can.” You smile at Veronica. “But, for the record, no. I don’t think you’re a bad person at all.”

She sighs in relief, untethering an anchor she hadn’t even known she’d been dragging around by her throat. “Thank you,” she whispers, tears snaking down her powdered ivory cheeks.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Come on.”

“How do you feel about marble lion statues? You know, the ones at the end of long, winding driveways. Rich people’s driveways. Mansion driveways. Or do you prefer gargoyles?”

“Roger.”

He groans, grins, presses his right fist into your palm. You measure the force with your mind, with your muscle memory. He’s stronger than he was yesterday, the day before, last week. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Rog teases. “You’ve got a soft spot for damaged people. Helpless people. That’s why you warmed to Brian so quickly. He was lying there all gaunt and jaundiced and terrified, and you just couldn’t resist, you just had to make sure all his wildest dreams came true.”

“I have a soft spot for self-destructive musicians who end up in hospitals, evidently.” Your gaze cruises over the scar on Roger’s forearm where the surgeons popped his bones back into place, stabilized them, stitched the ragged gore closed. You hate looking at it; you hate reminders of how mortal Roger really is.

“I want lions,” Rog decides. “For the driveway of our eventual mansion. I like the Leo connection.”

“And the Queen crest connection.”

His grin widens, toothy and radiant. “See, I knew you were the love of my life.”

“Come on. Again.”

He winces this time. “Doesn’t hurt a bit.”

“Uh huh. I bet.” You’ve slathered his fresh blisters with numbing antiseptic ointment, iced his arm, administered pain medicine, allowed him the constant sips of alcohol necessary for him to work, to drum, to sleep. But he still hurts. You imagine he hurts all the fucking time.

It’s August now, and Queen is recording their fourth album at Rockfield Farm. You and Roger are sitting by the pool as Freddie splashes around in the clear chlorine-smelling water trying to get John’s attention. John, meanwhile, is lounging on an inflatable raft, wearing black sunglasses and most likely asleep. Brian circles the pool snapping photos with your Canon F-1.

“I have a plan,” Roger informs you as he starts his stretches without prompting. He knows the drill, even if he likes to be difficult about it.

“By all means, enlighten me.”

“Fred’s thing, the weird one. It has a name now.”

“Does it?”

“Yeah. Bohemian Rhapsody.”

“Oh, it’s perfect!” You try to stay out of the band’s business decisions as much as possible; it’s not your expertise, and it’s not your place, and there are already a few too many creative chefs in that kitchen. Still, you love when they share their magic with you. “Eccentric, whimsical, exhilarating. Just like the song. Just like Queen.”

“I’m so glad you approve. We’re going to make sure it’s the first single off the album. And I know exactly what song’s going to be on the B-side. Freddie and Bri don’t know yet, but I do.”

“Sounds like they’re going to murder you when they find out.”

“I’ll convince them.” His grin is crafty, daring. “Picture it: you’ve just finished the incomparable experience that is Bohemian Rhapsody. You’re a newly converted Queen enthusiast. What could possibly come next? You flip the record over. And the virile, screeching, pure rock and roll passion of I’m In Love With My Car is there to greet you.”

“Oh my god, Roger.” You shake your head in mock mourning. “They actually are going to murder you.”

“Listen, love, BoRhap is going to be a hit. I can feel it.”

“Sure,” you agree lukewarmly. You want to be supportive, you really do. But disappointment stings more than resignation.

“It will be,” Roger maintains, unmovable. “And it’ll sell mountains and mountains of singles...and with my song on the B-side, I’ll get half the royalties. Which means we’ll get half the royalties.”

“Which is how we end up with the hypothetical mansion.”

“I’m being serious.” Roger picks up his mini barbell weights from the water-splattered concrete and begins his bicep curls, flinching each time he lifts his right fist.

“Rog—”

“I’m fine,” he insists. “I’m going to make this happen. I’m going to get rich so I can provide for my family. You know about that, you know it’s on my list. And my family includes you now.”

“I don’t need a mansion, Roger.” I just need you. You stare at his right arm worriedly. “Are you sure—?”

“I’m fine!” he shouts, and you recoil. Brian peers over from where he’s taking pictures of blooming purple foxgloves. Instantly, Roger regrets it. “I’m sorry,” he says, setting down the barbells and cradling your face with his rough, bandaged hands. “I have to be fine, you know? I don’t have a choice. If I can’t play, I can’t be in the band. If I leave, John will leave too, and that’ll be the end of everything. Or worse, John will break the pact and stay and they’ll find a new drummer and forget all about me. Sail off into some blissful new future. And where will I be? Moping as I drag myself back to dental school? Becoming a freaking lab biologist? Resigning myself to being some excruciatingly ordinary bloke, someone who climbed just far enough out of Cornwall to know everything he’s missing out on?”

You try to imagine who Roger would be without the band, but you can’t. You’ve never known a pre-Queen Roger. “No,” you say, amused. “You’ll never be just some ordinary bloke. You’re too brilliant, too determined. Even if you do have a dodgy arm.”

He kisses you, and you can feel his lips curling into a smile beneath yours. “So you’ll let me buy you a mansion.”

“If you get I’m In Love With My Car on the B-side, and BoRhap is a hit, and Freddie and Bri don’t smother you with a pillow in your sleep...yes, you can buy me a mansion. Buy us a mansion.”

He winks, his sapphire eyes glinting in the late-summer sunlight. “Watch out, baby. I get everything I want eventually.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“It’s done,” John tells the others as he passes out copies of his new song, the second he’s ever written. There are only four sheets of crisp white paper; as you watch from the studio couch, you wonder what the song is about, why he didn’t mention it to you.

“It’s done?!” Brian yelps. “What do you mean, it’s done?! Nothing’s ever done after the first pass! That’s how it works, that’s how it always works, someone suggests something and then we all dice it and slice it and flip it around and stitch it back together like the world’s most maniacal surgeons, and then, only then, maybe, it’s done.”

You glance up from where you’re sewing an eleventh patch onto Roger’s jeans. “Must we disparage the medical profession?”

“Sorry, love,” Roger tosses to you with a laugh.                          

“It’s done,” John repeats.

“Deaky, darling,” Freddie ventures gently. “We should endeavor to keep our minds open to collaboration—”

“Oh, should we, Fred?!” Bri exclaims. “How extraordinary, you never seem to encourage collaboration when it’s your song on the cutting floor!”

“Okay space boy, you listen here—”

“‘I’m happy at home’?!” Roger reads, revolted. “We’re not the bloody Bee Gees, Deaks!”

John explains measuredly and patiently, as if to a child: “That’s the way it goes. We record it as it is or not at all.”

“That’s not how we do things,” Brian mutters, deep frown lines chiseled through his face as he scans the lyrics.

“Then just fill the album with your and Fred’s songs like you always do, I’m sure that’ll keep me and Roger loyal.”

Brian glares at John. John stares back stoically, his eyes like steel. Brian looks to Roger for support; Roger lights a cigarette and pretends not to notice.

“Darling, please, you’re not being reasonable!” Freddie pleads.

“I need it.” John turns to Roger now. “I need it to stay the way it is.”

Rog just watches him for a while, exhales smoke, shrugs. “Okay,” he says at last.

“Okay?!” Brian howls. “What do you mean, okay?!”

“He said he needs it,” Roger replies simply.

Bri throws his hands into the air. “Bleeding christ! ‘He needs it.’ What rubbish! Do something, Fred!”

“Oh relax, darling.” Freddie sashays to the microphone and points to Brian’s Red Special. “Let’s try it out.”

“But—!”

Roger claps Brian on the back as he trots by him towards the drum kit. “Come on, Bri. Big smiles. Just picture the nice shiny pounds from all those album sales plinking into your bank account. You’ll have fifty Christmas hams at the wedding, one for every guest.”

You listen passively from the couch as they rehearse, trying not to let on that you’re paying attention, trying not to overstep. But you can’t help being struck by the lyrics, feeling the somberness of Freddie’s voice and John’s tentative notes on the electric piano slink into your bones; because it sounds so familiar, because it echoes so many things that John has told you.

When Queen takes a mid-afternoon break and John slips into the kitchen for a Coke, you follow him.

“Hey John?”

“Yeah.” He rests his hands on the dining room table. They’re sturdy and unmarred and completely unlike Roger’s; and you aren’t sure why you notice this, but you do.

“I completely understand if I’m being intrusive, and if I am please just tell me to shut up and I will.”

He chuckles. “You’re never intrusive. Go ahead.”

“I was just wondering...who is You’re My Best Friend about?”

Now his smile evaporates. “No one in particular,” he says briskly. “It’s just a song. Just something to put on the album. Maybe a single one day. A soulless royalties grab.”

That seems unlikely. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He takes a swig of Coke, peers down at the table, traces swirls of centuries-old oak with his fingertips.

“It’s just...you know...well...it kind of sounded like...maybe it was about me.”

He looks up. And for the first time, John levels some of his infamous, razored words at you: “Don’t be such a fucking narcissist.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Two days later, John doesn’t apologize. But he smiles at you over tea, offers to clean off the fingerprints of strawberry jelly that Roger left on the Canon, splashes you from the pool as you sunbathe beneath lapis August skies. And you agree, wordlessly and unconditionally, to forgive him. Because John is your best friend, whether or not you’re still his.

Nine weeks later, Bohemian Rhapsody is released as a single. (And, as promised, Roger ensures that I’m In Love With My Car is on the B-side.)

Twelve weeks later, Bohemian Rhapsody reaches the #1 spot on the UK Singles Chart, and remains there for over two months.

Fifteen weeks later, A Night At The Opera becomes the #1 album in the UK.

Fifteen weeks later, Queen’s future is suddenly crystal clear.

[crashingmeteorz]

part three of avatar red!

despite his insistence otherwise, blue does end up carrying red back to the village. he’s able to bend their iceberg into something smaller and more easily manipulated, and bends them most of the way back, before resigning to dragging red the rest of the way across the snow to the village.

once again, daisy is healing red, and as blue tries to explain what happened, he’s berated by his grandfather for being so pig-headed, for not thinking things through, for putting red in danger.

“considering he airbent us 50 feet in the air, i’d say we weren’t in any danger!” blue snaps. so he exaggerates a little, big deal. it gets gramps to shut his trap quick.

“he did what?” red’s mother asks in shock.

“he airbent us out of the water. and his eyes glowed. then he passed out, and i had to haul his sorry a-“ samuel cuts him off.

“red’s the avatar?” samuel says in awe. “but how? if the airbender avatar died, it should’ve passed to water. unlesss.....unless all three avatars died, never knowing their truth...” samuel starts pacing around the home, mumbling.

“i can’t believe it. you almost killed the avatar twice, blue,” daisy says sarcastically. “shut the hell up!” blue yells. red’s mother, who is basically their second mother, quiets them.

“we’ll have to get him a firebending master,” samuel says suddenly, looking to red’s mother. she swallows thickly and nods. “i had a few contacts...i’ll see what i can do.”

“i’ll reach out as well,” samuel says. “at the very least we can prepare the earth kingdom and the air nomads.”

“air nomads?” blue repeats. “you know where they are?” samuel ignores him, and leaves with red’s mother, who asks that they watch over red.

it’s late when red finally wakes up. daisy is back in her home asleep next to her husband, and she had told blue to wake her if red came to, but blue doesn’t go get her. he needs to talk to red first.

“what happened?” signs red, blinking awake. pikachu, who had been anxiously patrolling the entrance to the home as if the storm could sneak by her, rushes dramatically to red’s arms when she sees him sit up.

“needy rat,” blue says. pikachu hisses at him. red tries to give blue a stern glare, but is clearly too tired to muster up his usual sass.

“what happened?” red signs again, and blue sighs, moving closer to him.

“you passed out,” blue says “on account of the storm.”

“oh,” red signs, still looking confused.

“also, you’re the avatar,” blue blurts out. red’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t tell blue he’s an asshole or roll his eyes. he just cuddles pikachu closer like he would when they were children, and huddles into himself.

“i thought i airbended,” red admits eventually. “i felt...weird. i thought it was a dream.”

“well it was no dream, fly boy,” blue says in a sarcastic voice, but he reaches for red’s hand and interlocks their fingers in an act of tenderness red didn’t even know his friend was capable of. settling into a familiar silence, the two boys fall asleep.

of course, they had flown 30 feet in the air and red accidentally produced a vibration that shook the whole north pole, so naturally the dinky little fire nation ship out on a wild goose chase manages to spot them. dinky is the word the fire navy fleet would use, not necessarily the word the south pole would use.

“clair did you see that?” gold asks, and he sounds more excited that clair’s heard him in months. she’s 19 and he’s 13, and she’s pretty sure they just spotted the avatar, but she’s also pretty sure she just wants to take gold to a quiet earth kingdom colony where they can live out their days in peace.

it’s not her honor on the line though, so she just sighs and says “yeah, i saw it kid. let’s go check it out.”

“don’t get in my way,” gold tells her, practicing his bending. “sure kid,” she thinks, intending to watch from the ship and drag gold away by the ear if he gets in over his head.

red, and blue are shaken awake the next morning by red’s mother. “hide here,” she tells them, “and don’t come out for anything.”

obviously, they don’t listen, and the two of them peek out of the home to see what’s happening, and there, huge and steel and terrifying, is a fire navy ship.

“they’re here for me, they’re taking me back,” red signs in a panic. blue shakes his head “no, stupid,” blue says as gently as he can, “they’re here because you’re the avatar. stay here, i’ll take care of them.”

blue dresses quickly, putting on his warrior paint. red watches him, unsure what to do. when blue exits the home, some adults yell at him to go back, but he looks out and gramps is surrounded and the few waterbenders left have been captured.

blue puts forth a valiant effort, fighting off soldiers, but gold, resilient and practiced in multiple fighting forms, overpowers him. he’s pretty tall for his age, so when he removes his helmet after tripping blue up and ordering two guards to restrain him, blue is shocked to find a mere boy staring him down.

“you’re just a kid!” blue splutters. gold’s face goes red. “you’re just a teenager!” he bites back, and lifts a hand holding a flame menacingly.

“now,” gold says. “tell me where the avatar is.”

“here,” says red, appearing at last, fire ferret on his shoulder. it’s strange to hear him talk, and blue is a little grateful when he signs, “i’m the avatar. i’m the one you want.”

“and you’re surrendering?” gold asks in a shrill voice. blue’s not sure if he understood red’s signing or if he just heard the ‘here’, but either way the kid coughs, fixes himself to sound older and says, “why?”

“i didn’t say i’m surrendering,” red signs, taking a fighting stance and doing his best to look menacing. soldiers move in on him. he relaxes a little and signs “but if you leave these people alone, yes, i’ll surrender.”

gold does nothing for a moment, then extinguishes the flame in his hand and nods to the guards. the waterbenders are released, and red is grabbed. red’s mother yells for them to let him go, but some of the villagers hold her back. red offers her a small smile.

just as he’s climbing up the dock, his mother breaks free and runs after him. blue follows suit. the two of them are quickly disarmed, and yelling in pain. that’s all it takes, really.

red goes into the avatar state, but this time is nothing like before. fire erupts out of him in waves, and it’s all the soldiers and gold can do to bend it away from them. not all of them manage to, and some perish. gold is frozen in place, and clair manages to grab his collar and yank him back on deck, while red roars, flying above them. then, in an incredible display, red sends the ship flying back out to sea.

gold immediately yells about going back, about capturing red, but nope, no way is clair doing that. they just lost two men and she almost lost gold. this is way more than they can deal with right now.

“you got us banished in the first place!” gold yells, and clair recoils. “the least you can do is help me capture him!”

“fine,” clair agrees. “but we need to regroup and think this through.”

“like you know how to do that,” gold says bitterly, marching off to his room.

meanwhile, red has come back down to earth and only passes out for a few minutes this time. the villagers are terrified, even his mother doesn’t know what to do. blue, who has seen at least a version of this before, goes to him without hesitation.

red rouses in his arms, and manages to sign “i need to leave.” his meaning is clear. it’s not safe for red here, and it’s not safe for the village either.

they sit down and talk with samuel and red’s mother about finding teachers, about writing to their sister tribe to help defend the south, and red and blue pretend to listen.

then, in the night, red sneaks out to a boat in which he’ll make his escape.

“going somewhere?” blue asks. red makes a face, insists blue can’t go with him, that it’s too dangerous.

“but the rat will be okay?” blue asks him, pointing to pikachu. red rolls his eyes.

“she’s smarter than you,” red argues. blue laughs.

“you’ll never get anywhere in this thing, come on,” blue says, and it’s not an argument anymore, just a fact. blue goes where red goes.

blue’s old turtle elephant-seal (they grow much larger in the south than in the north, and are both aquatic and terrestrial) is saddled and packed with supplies.

“i figure we’ll head to the earth kingdom, find you an airbending teacher, since those supposedly exist. although you can barely firebend so we should probably work on that, too,” blue tells him as they climb on the grumpy animal.

“i nearly fire-blasted your face off,” red signs indignantly. “that’s not how i remember it,” blue says, patting the creature. then they’re off on their journey.

both red and blue had left notes for their families before they departed. red kept his short, but made sure to tell his mom that he loved her, and that’s why he had to go. blue’s just said “smell ya later!”

“what did you call this thing again? you always come up with the weirdest names.” blue asks red an hour into their journey. red spells it out, b-l-a-s-t-o-i-s-e.

“blastoise?” blue asks, lying down. “kind of a mouthful. what do you think of squirtle?” red thinks that’s just fine.

1  2  3 4 masterpost

[ernestsinclairs]

How Rich are You?? - Bloodbound Edition

Welcome to the MONEY Series, where I draw up how rich everybody is. Here, I estimate how rich ALL the Bloodbound LIs are because literally everyone likes cash, not just me.

ADRIAN: Literally one of the first details about Adrian we ever got was that he’s a billionaire. And from the way PB stresses it, it seems like he’s one of those super-billionaires or something. I doubt he’s at the Jeff Bezos level (publicly at least), but this guy has some serious numbers in his bank account. Now, CEOs 

like him don’t have billions in cash sitting in some bank vault somewhere. Most of their money is made up of the amount of their company that they own and how much that slice is worth. Seeing as Adrian probably founded his own company, it’s pretty fair to say he has a good chunk of it. And Raines Corp. seems to be like the golden child of a capitalist mother. MC mentions that the Raines Corp. was one of the fastest growing companies in America (in the job interview with Nicole), Adrian was voted ‘CEO to watch’, and she also said ‘like no one knows how profitable Raines Corp. is’ in Marcel’s library. Plus Adrian’s other assets like a private jet and great car and stuff, that’s a CRAZY amount of money.

Net Worth: $40 - $50 billion (the company’s had a lot of time to grow and rake in profit and value, seeing as vampires are, you know, a little thing called immortal)

But wait, there’s more! There’s this super shady thing that rich people do called offshore accounts! Basically, they shovel their cash to places like Bermuda and the Cayman islands to avoid paying taxes and hide their boatloads of cash from the feds. I’m pretty sure Adrian does that, not to avoid taxes, but to hide money he made in the other centuries he’s been alive, like the lucrative mega-businesses of the Gilded Age, that he otherwise wouldn’t be able to explain.

COMPLETE NET WORTH: $80 - $90 billion (includes previous profits in offshore accounts, physical things like gold and artifacts, real estate, international company investments). 

Probably Owns: Obviously his private plane, which seems quite large and luxurious (Gulfstream perhaps?). He definitely has that decked out penthouse with a prime view of the Manhattan real estate market and a car described as a ‘slick sports car’ in Book 1 when you’re rescuing him. I am 100% sure he has a giant wine collection spanning centuries old as long as multiple estates around the US. In Book 1, Kamilah mentions she didn’t know about Adrian’s colonial estate, implying that there are others. So, if you like jet setting to giant mansions with centuries old bubbly, there’s that. 

KAMILAH: Our vampire queen is not just the queen of literally everything, she is also the queen of raking in the sweet sweet cash. She’s in finance, and if it’s one thing I’ve learned, finance is profitable. Now, it’s obvious she’s extremely wealthy, but the curious things is that it’s not emphasized as such. It’s stressed that Adrian is a billionaire and has a private plane and whatnot, but there’s no mention of the extent of Kamilah’s wealth. So here’s what probably went down: Kamilah’s public wealth is lower than Adrian’s, but her hidden wealth is a lot higher. I literally would not be surprised if she could go to Egypt, dig a random hole in the desert, and turn up a motherlode of gold she hid thousands of years ago. 

Net Worth: $20 - $30 billion (as far as the outside world knows. But if you factor in all her hidden wealth and earnings and random gold statues and hundred carat diamonds floating around the world, I’d estimate it at about $200 billion. This insanely high number is yes, due to the amount of previous earnings and valuables like precious metals and artifacts she has, but also their age and rarity)

Probably Owns: A really nice residence in Manhattan (I’m thinking a penthouse apartment similar in concept, but different in style to Adrian’s), along with apartments in every city she has an office in. I’m also sure she also has a walk in closet stacked wall to wall with custom made suits. I’m also quite sure that she still owns a few artifacts that are stored in private holdings around the world, like on in Egypt perhaps, and maybe some in remote areas like the deserts of Nevada or Argentine Patagonia. 

JAX MATSUO: Okay, what I know about Jax is that he was basically a college dropout in the 80s who spent his tuition dollars on LSD trips and bad disco clothes. And the last time I checked, disco clothes aren’t that valuable anymore (and never should have been). Now, I theorize that any personal wealth he gained was redistributed to help the Clanless and others that he took in. So, he’s not crapping blocks of gold and hundred dollar bills like Adrian and Kamilah. He’s crapping out those rolls of quarters you get at the convenience store and the occasional fake diamond earring from Claire’s. However, his new position on the Council is definitely bringing in some much needed cash.

Net Worth: $3 - $4 million (mostly due to him reinvesting in his Clan, and being relatively new to business and Council duties)

Probably Owns: I don’t think Jax has as much material wealth and homes/properties as Adrian and Kamilah. I think he has a nice, safe, and comfortable quarters in the refurbished Shadow Den so he can be with his people at all times. He probably scraped up enough for a respectable car due to nagging from Lily, but other than that, I theorize that he prefers to live a little more under the radar.

LILY SPENCER: The only piece of info I have about her was that she was able to buy us 10 pizzas when we first met (flashback in Book One). Now, the price of pizza in NYC is rising, with the average being $16.98. Ten pizzas is roughly $170 dollars.

Net Worth: $170 (but in reality, I estimate about $35 - $60k with any debts fully paid off. Running with Jax is definitely drawing in income, and I won’t be surprised if she’s drawing a salary from her service or a commission from Fangbook.)

Probably Owns: 0 delicious pizzas because she ate them all. But seriously though, we know she still lives in the apartment with us, so that hasn’t changed. I don’t see a need or means for a car or private jet or anything like that, and I can’t see Lily buying hugely permanent things. She seems much more of a ‘spur of the moment’ person, and purchases reflect that. Like one of those ten foot teddy bears from Costco. Or a signed David Tennant photo from eBay. Or a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles mask worn by the stunt man. Take your pick.

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

@bailey-choices @europeanguy @furiouscloddonutpeanut

[simplerthingslikewatchinglt]

Chapter Eleven

The patience in me had already left when I didn't recieve a call from Laurent all day yesterday and today. I was inpatient , I wanted to speak to him for some reason - maybe hear more about his dancing with Beyoncé, missy Elliot or about his travels to France and through out America -something I wish I could do if I had the money. Staying in my room all night yesterday and today was starting to become bothersome, I wanted an exscuse to go outside like before, which was about my phone but this time I had no exscuse. Sitting in the middle of my bed I needed to smoke, grabbing the pack of new ports that laid flat beside me I took one cig out of its carton parting my lips in the time being, I dangled the cig in between my parted lips. Atleast I can smoke , that was the first thing on my mind, atleast I can, thinking once more . On a winter day the clouds were grey with no sun out in sight just like before, maybe it'll snow this time ? My mother, that bitch, did not wanting me leaving this household for nothing . I wasn't a minor anymore but I sure wasn't a full grown adult in my mothers eyes , including my own. It was very annoying to be trapped in my room plus boring , smoking about half way through the cigarette I came to a decision to go on YouTube using my APPLE laptop and search up "Less Twins" purposely spelling it the way the Dj had pronounced it. It was then I came across the autocorrect which was actually spelled 'Les twins' - Boredem really had strucked me when I noticed my cig ashes were starting to be more then the cigarette itself, I usually smoked all of my cigarette but this time my eyes were glued on the screen as I watch the twins begin dancing. I wasn't bored of watching the twins, I was bored in general.

They were dope on screen, it was like watching two mechanical robots doing unbelievable movements but in person was a whole 'nother level - they were amazing in person it was then besides me, my phone began to vibrate , facing upwards I peeked at the screen. Boyfriend was calling and all I thought about was who the fuck did I save as boyfriend in my contacts - I slide my index finger across the screen to answer,  "hello?".

"Kiki my girl .."

Laurent? It sure sounded like him, right when I was beginning to gather my words to speak over a flustered babbling he spoke again " see I told you I was going to call"  once I finally had gathered my words I spoke in a questionable tone

" And why did you save yourself as boyfriend in my phone ?"

"Because I am" he was beginning to take this on going joke a little too far .

"Well I would like for us to see each other again Kiki , and this time no running in bathrooms okai? " inunision I chuckled at his last words .

"Well where would you want to meet ? " perfect exscuse to get out

"Anywhere , maybe your place ?" almost dropping my lit cigarette on my bed sheets in reaction  the way I choked on my own "what?"

"Your not coming to my place Laurent"

"Okai... so back to my hotel then ?" What harm could be done there right ?

"Umm I'll have to think about it , I mean what'll we do once I get there ?"

"Kiki.. we will talk . No sex or anything like that I'm a gentleman" Yeah sex was the last thing on my mind, I think , Laurent was handsome but we hardly knew each other.

***

Once I made it to the hotel he was staying in , I was met by him in the lobby. He sported a "calm" outfit this time around , wearing all black with no accessories or shades , pretty basic I would say . As for me I thought more carefully into what I was wearing this time for a reason I can't explain , I wore the pea coat I had on our first encounter underneath the pea coat was a navy blue turtle neck sweater shirt that was a tad tight from too many washes and drying, the shirt cupped my B cup breast while my tight ripped jeans hugged at my small curves . My hair just passing my shoulders, and my nails matched my sweater this time .

I approached Laurent he seemed more pleased to see me then his twin would be, maybe ?

"Come..We go now" He was smiling with his lips tucked inside of his mouth reaching out to me. I'd dismissed his hand reached, nothing to be rude about but I just didn't want people assuming unnecessary things.

"Ouch.." he whispered in a "false" hurt tone, mocking my actions but still seemed to laugh about it . We both walked side by side towards the elevator - once inside he pressed to floor eighteen just like last time . The difference from last time in the elevator was this time we weren't so close together.  He stood in front of me, eyes focus on the elevator numbers going up.

Once we arrived to the destined floor, we walked towards a different hotel room from before. It made sense that the twins wouldn't share the same room so I didn't question the fact. We got inside the room, it was decked out just like the lobby seemed to be bigger than Larry's room as well. There was no gold but sure enough there was a lot of decorative paintings and a huge king size bed that was placed in the middle of the room.

"Let's play a game Kiki" Laurent said as he jumped onto the bed, bouncing in the process .

"A game ?"

"Yeah a game"

So this is what he wanted  ? My mind drifted to sexual thoughts as it was just us alone , no Larry, nor Adelia in sight. There was an awkward silence between us , as my mind was in the gutter thinking of the dirtiest things that would happen if I participated in this game Laurent sat at the edgeof the bed. He'd stopped bouncing and as if in a serious manner, both arms on his knees , a smirk played on his lips as he sat hunched over .

"C'mon (come on) Kiki it will be fun~" Laurent said while stretching out his words , what harm could be done ?  I nodded my head in agreement, it was then his smirk turned into a smile growing  big as if compared to a happy child he shot  up on both feet moving off the bed and digging into his bookbag that laid flat on the bedside - I assumed it must've been his carryon . I watched him curiously, dirty thoughts filling my mind believing that this game would consider something sexual until i seen him whip out a deck of cards.  These cards reminded me of childhood, reminded me at how bad I was at the game to be honest. ..It was the dreadful game called UNO, the original version.

"You played before, no ?"  He  said to me , looking up to me while I stand , I moved my head in a up and down motion. He knew that meant 'yes'  - " come , take off your shoes. Come to the bed" he motioned his hand to the bed giving it a few pats before standing, I did as I was told taking off my shoes - "And coat... Kiki" he gestured. In honest truth, I was shy to take off my coat, I'm not too sure why... maybe it was because of my self consciousness of my own body or the clothes that I was wearing, I do not know , all I know was that I still did as I was told without hesitation.

I sat on the bed, where I sat across from Laurent whom sat with his legs folded. I decided to sit that way as well. There he began to discard seven cards between the both of us putting the rest of the deck on the side.

Laurent is innoncent at this point, just only wanted to play UNO with me and do nothing else made me feel relax, more comfortable . My body relaxed, getting more comfortable and turning my posture from straight to hunch, " so who goes first?" I questioned, he answered quickly " you" .

I looked at the seven cards that was held in my hands spread apart, all bad numbers, no 'draw 4' or 'reversal cards' just plain number '5,8,1,3,3,9,1' none were yellow, only blue, red and green. I pulled the first number on my left, the red one, number five, then it was Laurent's turn to draw, he immediately pulled out a 'draw 4 card' . There was a silence at first before Laurent began to giggle, an "ah" left his mouth while our eyes met, he knew I was going to lose. I drew four cards from the deck, numbers '4,3,7,1' another bad hand. I pulled the first number that matched the same color, number seven and sighed, Im gonna lose .

“Let's spice it up.." said Laurent, spice it up? I quickly responded, "spice it up" , he nodded his head up and down, a signed 'yes'.

"Spice it up how ?" I asked .

"If you lose .... you kiss me, if I lose I kiss you ."  He smirked at me which caused me to give out a small blush . A kiss? But where though? I thought to myself, I was nervous somewhat - about a kiss, or maybe about the fact we hardly knew eahother . I wasn't sure of my own thoughts .

"Where at though ?" I questioned,

"I no understand..." he responded, ofcourse he wouldn't understand as a kiss to him could mean automatically on the lips .

"Meaning, a kiss on the forehead or-"

"Lips ofcourse" he quickly cut me off , speaking in a tone that was easy to read as if saying duh' to me. In response I rolled my eyes. With  his cards still in his hands not once tilting them downwards, our eyes stayed on each other , Laurent must've read how I was feeling about this new "spice it up" thing because he, in response tucked his smile into his mouth before speaking once more . " okai (okay) ... lets make it easy . If you lose , you kiss me ... anywhere. If I lose, I kiss you... anywhere. Better ?"  The rules were simple, if one of us lost we would have to kiss the other person anywhere we'd like. I didn't know what to feel nor think about in this  situation, other than to simply agree to it . " yeah ... I think so " I responded, unsure on what to feel.

" I can't wait to lose" Laurent said, positioning himself in a more 'serious' matter , I didn't want to ask what would happen if one of us were to win because now the game was about a lose, lose situation. It did not matter on who won, it mattered on who lost and where the kiss would be planted . I need to lose .

Authors notes :

I made this chapter prettty lengthy, almost two thousand words which is a lot to me lol. I hope you guys like this one - I have not played UNO in ages . Also keep In mind the boys are still young so I wanted to play with the childish side of them like how they use to be when they were in their early 20's and would  bring their PlayStation and stuff like that with them on travels

[earthlostgirl]

The Arrow of the sea

Chap 1 / Chap 2

-Life, Then-

July, 1624.

Aerugo Coast.

A few yards into the sea lay, rocked by the waves, a beautiful ship of dark wood, three masts and luminous white sails. "The Arrow of the Seas" was a magnificent ship. A brig of 24 meters in length with ten guns per band had capacity for 90 well-off men but despite its size was light and moved quickly both in the deep sea and on the coast, but certainly its most recognizable part was the bow mask, a representation of Medea, mother of witches, daughter of Triton and a nymph, was painted in bright colours and her hair at the wind seemed to break the waves. It was also the ship of a terrible pirate, Berthol Hawkeye, feared and known from one side to the other. The kids threw themselves exhausted on the sand, covered in sweat, letting the waves wet their bare feet.

"Look at this," Roy said as he stood trying to catch his breath. He reached into his pocket and showed her a thin gold chain from which hung a medallion in the shape of a burning heart. "It's my part of the loot, the Captain says I earned it on my own merits," he said with pride.

"It's a Sacred Heart," Elisabeth murmured, looking with attention at the little heart that swayed in front of her eyes.

"It's for you," he smiled extending his hand but she turned her head.

"I don't want jewelry. What I want is to be able to participate in the pillages," she muttered angrily, snatching the chain from her hands. "This is ridiculous, till a few months ago I was"the little captain" and now I'm just the girl on the boat. How is it possible they didn't realize I was a girl?"

"I guess they didn't pay attention to the captain's little brat but now you're twelve years old and you have tit...," He turned as red as a tomato when he realized what he was going to say and quickly changed the subject. "You've never behaved like a girl does," suggested the young boy shrugging his shoulders.

"How's a girl supposed to behave, Roy?" she asked irritated, pursing her lips.

"The crew is very superstitious, and your father wants to protect you..."He stuttered more and more nervous.

"You have no idea what you're saying," she interrupted full of anger."I don't want it," she grumbled, returning the necklace.

He looked at her sadly, without taking his eyes off the small piece of gold that swayed in front of him.

"Listen to me carefully, Liz, when I become captain of my own ship, you will sail beside me and you will be able to do whatever you want. You will see, you are an excellent pirate, a great swordsman and your aim is impressive. It doesn't matter you are a girl..."

She smiled at that childish statement of intent and sat a little closer to him.

"Keep the necklace; it's not a jewel. It's a promise, my promise," he said, placing the necklace in her hand and closing it with his own.

"Thank you Roy" whispered squeezing the necklace against her chest.

They stared at the sea in silence until they heard the screams of the helmsman approaching from the beach, professing all sorts of insults to the boy for not being at his post and skipping his chores.

"And now get to work because from a cabin boy to captain you can't go by magical means" Elisabeth stood up holding out her hand to help him up"

"Yes, little captain, I guess for the moment I'll have to take your orders..." he joked blocking in front of her. "If Old Will doesn't hang me from the major mizzen," he added as he listened to the plethora of punishments the helmsman had prepared for him.

...

September, 1628.

Pirate life, best life prayed the old song. Which was only true if you were something more than an eighteen-year-old sailor, perched on the ratchet stick, punished to stand guard for sighed as he sat on the sail and saw the captain's young daughter holding the helm while the old helmsman gave her lessons in navigation. She was wearing black trousers and a blue shirt. The rising wind her hair her laugh and distracting from the of her master. A and badly faced who was only in a mood if around, although him for that. Liz looked up at the sky and greeted him smiling, it was as if she could tell he was looking at her. But it wasn't very difficult either, he always did. He lifted himself up again and contemplated the magnificent horizon. Enjoying the view, the smells, the colours, the sun warming his face. He loved the sea, there was something wild and untamed about it. The song told no lie, even when he was punished.

At that very moment something caught his attention, a ship sailing too close to them.

"Ship in sight," he shouted with all his might. "The Hammer to starboard"

No matter how much he shouted, no one seemed to hear him. The wind carried the sound of his voice in the other direction. Until it was too late, the first cannon fire made him lose his balance and he had to hold on to the order to avoid falling into the deck and breaking his head against the ground. He descended the ladder as fast as he could. Bradley's ship attacked them by surprise, the entire crew ran to defend their posts. The guns made a deafening noise. Everything was chaos around them. All were screams and orders that were repeated from one to another. He had to defend The Arrow. He had to defend his home... He crossed with his companions who, covered with blood, constantly loaded the cannons. And with an unusual speed. In a consciously meditated plan they were boarded, the ship was filled with pirates. Who shot down the unprepared crew. He ran through the fortress dodging bodies and enemies. He was one of the youngest sailors, more agile, but seemed incapable of repelling the attack. He ran to port, looking for something to fill the cannons with, something to defend himself with. He could hardly hear anything and the smoke barely let him see. Suddenly he saw someone approaching him; it was Old Will with an inert body in his arms.

"What happened,?" he asked frightened as he recognized her, she was very pale from the loss of blood, she wasn't moving and couldn't even tell if she was breathing.

"A cannon shot...I found her under the rubble; she doesn't wake up...we have to get her out of here," he explained hysterically. "She can't stay on the boat."

"What?" He couldn't understand anything; they were in the middle of a fierce battle.

"We are losing," Will said in defeated form.

"We have to fight," he insisted, a part of him wanted to go back to starboard. Kill all those bastards who came to disturb his home. But something tied his feet to the ground.

"What do you think Bradley's men will do to a young woman like her?" cried the angry old helmsman. "Don't be an idiot boy, help me get her on the lifeboat."

"Damn it, old man, I want to fight, a man does not abandon his boat, it is cowardly. Why do you do this?"protested angrily, The Arrow of the sea seemed to be in flames and he was being treated like a small child.

"If there's anyone who loves her, more than I do on this damn boat, it's you, boy," he shouted from the top of the deck. "Protect her."

He didn't know what to say as the waves that the Arrow produced as it moved removed the small boat away from the battle.

They had been three days in a small semi-abandoned fishermen's cabin, placed in one of Turtle Island's that time Elisabeth had been travelling between consciousness and unconsciousness, ravaging from fever, had cleaned and bandaged her wounds and felt unable to leave her side. He wet the cloth and returned it to his forehead, then leaned against the wall with his head in his hands. When he lifted his head again, she was looking at him, and she was pale and thick drops of sweat bathed her forehead.

"Hey, where are we? What the hell happened,?," she asked in an exhausted whisper.

He was unable to answer her questions, and she tried to sit up, released a groan full of pain and he ran to hold her.

"The Arrow was assaulted a few days ago by Captain Bradley," he explained in calm, meditating on the following words.

"Has no one survived?" she asked after a dread silence.

"I don't know."

He tried to explain to her what had happened. What he had seen and how they had reached that place. Liz listened in silence, without taking her eyes away from him. She looked tired, there was much sadness in her eyes, but she didn't say a word, nor cry. She only hugged her knees in silence, hiding her head between her legs. Leaving him paralysed, unable to do anything but squat in front of her and remain silent.

"Can I ask you something?" he muttered nervously, not quite sure how to start the conversation.

She didn't lift her head, but she noticed how all the muscles in her body were tightening. Feeling where the whole thing was going, after all the clothes she was wearing weren't hers.

"Your back... What?," he swallowed, he didn't know what to say, he had been thinking about it for days, searching for explanations, looking for a meaning to what he had seen.

But she didn't say anything, nor moved, she just let out a long sigh.

"I don't want to be intrusive but... Did you want that?,"he insisted on caressing her head with care.

"No!" she said almost shouting "Of course not," she continued lowering the tone of her voice to just one inaudible whisper.

"I don't understand anything... it's a map... a part...The map on your father's wall... in his cabin... I spent hours looking at it and couldn't even understand it...Why? When? I can't understand it...

"It turns out that your beloved captain wasn't as good as you thought," she said, raising her head to look into his eyes. "He was nothing but a monster."

"Fuck, Liz, when did this happen? Why,?"Everything was more and more confusing, he reached out to touch her face but she turned off.

"Two years ago," she said, looking away.

"What?" he shouted angry holding her by the shoulders to make her look at his face "Why the fuck didn't you say anything to me? Where was I? Nobody on the boat noticed?

"You're hurting me," she whipped away from him without daring to look up from the floor."Do you want to hear the fucking story? Well, The bloody treasure is real. Hawkeye was obsessed with it. He was almost sick. Every night he lifted the planks of his room to contemplate it. As the years went by, he became more paranoid. He mistrusted everyone. He believed someone was going to betray him. He changed the gold place. I don't know where he hid it," she interrupted herself to get oxygen. "We had returned from Drachma, loaded with tobacco. Hawkeye took out a large amount of money on the black market and distributed it. His great act of generosity. All the crew came out to celebrate, except me, he forced me to stay."She clenched her fists tightly until they lost their colour."He came into my cabin, asked me to do him a favour... I said yes...I...let him... I allowed him..."she shut up again muttering things that only she could hear.

"Liz, it is not your fault for what that son of a bitch did to you..." he interrupted her by holding her arms gently.

"I should have stopped him. I'm a pirate. I can fight, but all I was able to do was cry and ask him to stop."

"Why didn't you tell me?" he implored incredulously, his voice full of sadness.

"My father would have killed anyone who knew," she muttered, burying the head between her knees.

"But I... would have done something... would have..."he tried to continue trying to convince himself that he would have been able to do something to help her.

"Roy... I don't want to talk about this..."she cut him dry.

"But...Liz."

"Leave me alone, cabin boy" she shouted, lying down again and turning her back "I want you to leave, please."

He went out of the hut, dizzy. He remembered that night to perfection, the men had taken him away. They wanted to make him a real "man."He got drunk and spent the night with a precious redhead with a freckled face, he still remembered the mole between her breasts. He sat on the sand feeling terribly guilty, angry with himself. He was her friend and had been unable to notice what was going on.

"It was strange to see you outside the hut," he heard behind him and became aware that it was getting dark.

He recognized the voice; it was Maes Hughes a young man who had found them on the beach, when he was so desperate to save her that he hadn't repaired on his own wounds. He offered them his help without asking questions and without asking anything in return. And if it wasn't for him, he would have gone crazy. Roy had never seen such a display of generosity on the part of a stranger.

"She's awake," he answered, standing up.

"And how is your friend?" he asked, throwing a shiny green apple that he picked in flight.

"I think she's fine, but she needs to rest."

Maes pulled as high as he could, he was quite tall and would have been imposing but there was nothing but skin and bones in him. "I have heard rumours in the village... Bradley attacked The Arrow...And killed all the crew, they talk about the treasure. And they say the daughter has the map. But they didn't find any woman on the was three days ago...the day of your shipwreck and...I have seen her back and...".

Before he could finish the sentence he put the tip of his foil in his throat. Maes was paralysed, feeling like a small trail of blood slipping down his neck to the inside of his shirt. He raised his hands very slowly dropping the bag of provisions to the ground.

"Listen to me Maes, you have helped us. You have sheltered us and I thank you but I will not hesitate to cut your throat and throw you to the sharks. If you say a single word on the map, of her... I'll kill you," threatened him with rage. He had spent some horrible days. It was the worst moment of his bloody life. He wasn't going to tolerate being blackmailed by a punk.

"I think it would be an unfair fight between a pirate," he said, emphasizing the last word, "and a poor fisherman, we can negotiate this situation.

"We have no money; we have nothing at all. You picked us up from the shore, you know that," insisted pricking him again.

"You can offer me something I've always wanted..." despite the situation, he was calm, full of confidence, as if he had nothing to lose.

"What?" Roy raised an eyebrow he was curious, and Maes drew a sly smile full of complicity.

"Life at sea, piracy, I want to sail the seas, know other worlds, other cultures, I want to fall in love in every port, I want to drink rum..." he explained with his arms extended, full of emotion, enjoying like a child.

"You make it sound fucking romantic, Maes," he said, pulling his sword out of his throat, smiling wide. "All right, you'll be part of my crew, but you'll see that being a pirate is a far cry from those dreams of yours.

"Your crew? Do you have a ship?"he asked with sarcasm.

"That's the plan."

next

[littlefanscribbles-blog]

Fandom: TMNT Characters: Leo x Human!Reader

Christmas Love

It was winter, not New York winter-all-year-long winter it was Christmas time winter. Mikey had already decked the lair out for the season, the turtles enjoyed Christmas for the most part. Crimes tend to go up but it was nothing they couldn’t handle. Leo had just gotten back from patrol when [Y/N] slipped in. Leo grinned at the sight of his girlfriend. To him you where beautiful and he loved every curve you had.

“Hey hun,” he said walking over, removing his sock cap before giving you a kiss on your pudgey cheek. He loved watching you smile and a blush stretch over your face. It was around this time last year when Leo saved you and soon claimed you as his. “Its cold, what are you doing out?”

“Well,” your pushed back your soft hair, letting your even softer eyes gaze up at his. You could tell by the raise of the green brow that he knew you wanted something. You must have used your sweet voice on him. “I was hoping we could go see the lights? They almost look like colorful stars.”

“Did you see mine?” Mikey asked, peeking out from behind the tree. You gave a giggle with a ‘yes Mikey’ before looking back at Leo who was putting back on his blue sock cap. He gave you a wink.

“Anything for you baby,” He put an arm around you. You often felt insecure, because you where bigger than the girls that his brother had around. But Leo had a way to make you feel like a Goddess and you loved that. He loved you more than life itself and you knew it too.

“Thank you,” you said leaning against him as you both worked your way to the surface. New York was loud, it seemed like everywhere you both turned Christmas carols from shops played. They were lucky that New York was too busy to even pay attention to Leo. He was hidden well with winter coats but his face was still green after all. He pulled you close into his arms, there wasn’t much for him to say. He would do anything you ask.

All around you two where beautiful colors of red, green, white, and gold. Reefs wrapped around every light pole you two passed. It was beautiful and it gotten even better when snow started to fall out of the sky. It made Leo chuckle, “Its like those Christmas romantic comedies you and Mikey always watch.”

“Just missing the horse drawn slay,” and as if by magic a horse drawn carriage was trotting by. A couple got off giggling and the old man looked at the pair as if asking if they wanted to laugh. You gave a fit of giggles as Leo lifted you into the slay and he climbed in with. “Just like a movie.”

Leo chuckled, pulling you close and kissing you sweetly. He’ll have to remind himself to thank Donnie for giving him directions to the best lit areas, it was a night earlier than Leo planned but it worked out. “I love you [Y/N].”

“And I love you, Leo.” You said smiling softly.

[littlejedii]

I’ll Be Fine By The Morning

did i procrastinate studying for 2 exams to write this shitty halloween story? yes! did i also not even get it done in time for halloween? also yes. title from permission slip by mainland. this is a bit rushed but happy halloweed!! story under the break! :)

Fall is usually bright, crisp days with a chilly wind that smells like decaying leaves and bonfires. Brilliant shades of red and gold and orange. The cool nights of wide open skies, the ones where you can just almost-not-quite see your breath on the wind.

But not in fucking Sellwood.

What a shitty place to be in the fall. The trees don’t change to any magnificent colors, but instead turn a muddy brown then drop their leaves unceremoniously into the wet, dirty streets. It rains almost constantly in the fall, not the light patter on your window which helps you sleep, but the thunderous, dark sky, drenching, gray, freezing downpour. The weather does a number on all the residents, of course, and the upcoming threat of hooligans making Halloween mischief really puts everyone in a shitty state.

People are so shitty, and the weather’s so shitty, and God why is everything just so shitty?

Probably because it’s around the holidays, probably because they’re always hyper-aware of what- but really who- is missing. Halloween might actually be the worst for Mitch. Freddie loved Halloween.

And then he died. Leaving Mitch in this podunk, bland, gray-ass town all alone.

What a shitty thing to do.

There aren’t enough houses to egg to forget that Freddie was a half-assed Jason Voorhees every single year. No amount of pumpkin smashing will make him forget that Freddie would sit on him and fart until Mitch handed over all his Kit-Kats. He can’t even begin to think about toilet-papering, because who else would have taught him the perfect toss? When Scratch had forced them all to watch Pet Sematary last year, Mitch spent the weeks after walking around the woods to find a haunted burial ground to shove his dead brother in just so he’d come back.

It’s been even harder lately with his Mom locked up, too. At least when he was a kid, she’d try and lighten the mood. She’d save and save for supplies to make him any costume he wanted, buy him any candy bar he desired in the biggest king-size bar she could find.

He always asked for Kit-Kats.

The fairly decent thing about Halloween is that now that they’re older everyone throws parties. Getting plastered by yourself to drown your pain is just pathetic, but getting plastered in someone’s basement where everybody is wearing plastic fangs is apparently just fine.

So this is where he finds himself. He barely knows the kid who’s house they’re trashing. Cory, from his Spanish class that one year the school tried to make him take a language, is just as shitty as everyone else in this town and throws a shitty party. But they stay anyway, downing lukewarm beers on his ratty couch as the basement fills with thrumming music and smoke. Mitch doesn’t wear a costume, obviously, because that’s fucking lame. His friends have taken to their usual masks, and everyone else is pretty decked out. The thumping of the bass vibrates in his chest, which hitches when he catches sight of a curly black head weaving through the crowd.

“Spots,” he yells over the music, springing up form the couch so quickly Javier startles. Jonas turns, blinking in surprise behind a sloppily-cut orange cloth mask. He pushes it up his forehead, causing his hair to stick out wildly in all directions, and Mitch could cry.

To his absolute fucking delight, Jonas grins wide as he makes his way over.

“Hey! I didn’t expect you to be here,” the smaller boy yells up over the music, “what’re you supposed to be?”

“I’m a werewolf,” he shouts back, and Jonas looks at him skeptically.

“You’re wearing exactly what you usually wear,” he gestures to Mitch’s torn t-shirt and jeans.

“Yeah well I guess it ain’t a full moon tonight then, huh?” His grin grows as Jonas tosses his head back in laughter, his shoulders shaking as a bit of beer spills from the can in his hand.

“That’s actually pretty clever,” he’s still giggling, but stops as he sees Mitch curiously eyeing the booze and quickly shakes his head. “I haven’t taken a sip. It’s yours.” He pushes the can against Mitch’s chest. It’s warm from Jonas’ fingers, and Mitch shrugs as he knocks a sip back.

“And what’re you, Joey? A frog?” Jonas frowns and looks down at his green t-shirt.

“No, I was supposed to be a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle, but Sid and I waited too long to make our costumes so it’s pretty bad. I don’t even have nunchucks.”

Mitch has no idea what those are or why this alien frog guy would have them, but Jonas’ nerd shit is so goddamn cute he can’t help but chuckle.

“Aren’t there s’posed to be like 6 of you? Which one’s your clone?”

“4,” Jonas corrects quickly. “And she wanted to be Casey Jones.” Behind Jonas’ shoulder, he sees Sid fumbling a hockey stick under arm, trying and failing to rip bong through the slats of a white mask as she laughs hysterically. He nods as if it means anything to him.

“You ain’t drinkin’ tonight Joey?” The lukewarm beer in his fist is halfway gone now. It’s certainly not his first of the night and he could use at least two more to start feeling a buzz.

“No... I mean, I’d rather smoke, but only if you wanted to,” his soft eyes are downcast, his voice coy under the pounding music. Mitch grins, because Jonas could ask to smoke his entire stash and he’d hand it over without question.

“Yeah. This place is fuckin’ lame anyway, let’s get outta here.” He wraps a wiry arm around Jonas’ shoulder and pulls him up the stairs, away from the smoky basement and sweaty bodies, out into the cool night air. They smoke a bowl as they wander back to the trailer park. Well, Mitch smokes a bowl while Jonas taps out after 2 hits, but they’re both pleasantly buzzed when they push into the trailer, Jonas’ side pressed into Mitch’s, freckled fingers wrapped around a thin wrist, big hands threading through tangled curls. Jonas is laughing, uneven and high, and only goes redder as he snorts. Mitch is teary-eyed too, his loud cackles pressed into Jonas’ temple as Jonas stumbles onto his knees over the carpet divide between the kitchen and living room.

Their laughter seems to echo through the trailer, amplified by the cold dark air in the empty room. The only sound which hums on when they finally break into soft, breathy giggles is the radiator, clicking rhythmically before shuddering on. Jonas rubs at his bare arms, shivering only slightly on the ground as Mitch fumbles with the dials on the ancient TV. Mitch eyes Jonas and goes off to his room, retrieving his filthy blanket and big plaid sweatshirt, throwing both around Jonas shoulders and guffawing at the muffled laughter.

Jonas clambers onto the couch and tosses the sweatshirt back, starting to untangle the blanket at pull his mask away from his forehead. He gives Mitch a look when the garment is thrown back into his lap.

“It’s for you,” Mitch chuckles in response, leaning back against the armrest and tossing his legs into Jonas’ lap. As the smaller boy worms his way into the sweatshirt, pink lights drifting over to the drafty window, Mitch sinks into the plush cushions, letting the sensation of the static hum drifting through his extremities warm him. Jonas unfurls the blanket over them, but pouts the moment Mitch tugs it up over his shoulders to his chin.

“No fair,” Jonas starts, “You look so cozy.” Mitch hisses out a laugh through his teeth, pulling the covers away and extending his arm with a teasing grin.

“C’mere then, don’t ya wanna be warmed up Spots?” he’s half-joking, fully assuming Jonas will shove him softly like always.

But he doesn’t. Holy shit, he most certainly doesn’t. The smaller boy lowers into his invitation, curling underneath his arm and pressing his face into Mitch’s ribcage with a long sigh. Mitch freezes, cold sober the immediate moment that Jonas nestles into his side. His arm stays up for a moment as he watches Jonas turn and rub at his red eyes as he squints to see what’s on the TV. Jonas’ ass is pressed right up against his side now, and his breathing has stopped.

How gone is Jonas right now, to want to do this? Yeah, Jonas is one cuddly motherfucker when he’s high, but it’s usually just those soft moments of him leaning into his shoulder. Is he taking advantage of the smaller boy, who now is examining a spot on his hand where two freckles touch? Is this too far? Will Jonas regret this when he’d sober? Shit, fuck, will he be angry when he’s sober? Oh god, will he be hurt? Or worse, embarrassed?

Fuck, he totally will, won’t he? Fuck, he totally will. Fuck. Fuck.

“Woah, no way, I am not watching this,” Jonas blurts out, wide-eyed staring at the television, pulling Mitch from an imminent self-destructive panic attack.

“What the fuck is it?” Mitch says, turning to press into Jonas and narrowing his eyes at the TV, trying to sound calm. “Oh, Joey c’mon, this ain’t even scar-”

It’s ‘Friday the 13th Part VI: Jason Lives.’

Freddie’s favorite. 

He bolts upright abruptly, jostling Jonas as he clambers off the couch towards the TV in two long strides. In his cloudy mind, he can’t think of anything more than to turn it off, slamming his finger into the button and watching the screen flash then go dark.

“...Mit-”

“Yeah, fuck that movie. We don’t have to watch it,” he says curtly, cringing at the way his voice wavers. When he turns back, he doesn’t want to look at Jonas. But he’s so small on the couch, looking soft and warm in Mitch’s sweatshirt, eyes half lidded and one eyebrow cocked, that Mitch can’t help but stare.

“I thought you loved scary movies.”

“That one sucks.”

“You only like the ones that suck,” Jonas snorts and breaks down into giggles as Mitch looks out the window into the moonlight, willing himself to laugh too. But he doesn’t, he can’t, and Jonas trails off. He says something, but Mitch is zoned out.

“What?” Mitch shakes his head, trying to clear the fuzziness.

“Why does that one suck? Does it scare you?” Mitch actually snorts harshly, and Jonas frowns. “Hey, you know I won’t judge, everything scares me. So if it scares you...”

“It doesn’t scare me,” Mitch says firmly, crossing his arms over his chest. Jonas’ head lulls to the side, eyebrow still arched and questioning. “It... it makes me... it was Freddie’s- Freddie liked it. H-he loved it. He fucking loved Halloween,” he’s loud at first, brave, but by the end he’s mumbling just above a whisper and digging his nails into his skin.

“Oh... Mitch, I-” Jonas sounds so broken, so sad for him and he’s so not worth it.

“No, Joey, we’re not talkin’ about this, seriously. I can’t always bum you out like this when we’re high,” he laughs humorlessly, itching the back of his neck with discomfort as Jonas shifts upward. There’s a long, strained pause before Jonas pats the couch cushion.

“C’mere,” he says, and Mitch robotically does as he’s told. “What was his favorite candy?”

“Why do you wanna know?” Mitch spits, but Jonas just leans into his shoulder.

“I know his favorite movie, so why not?” More silence, filled by the sound of Mitch’s uneven breathing.

“Kit Kats.”

“Good choice,” Jonas hums into Mitch’s skin. They both turn toward the hallway as the sound of Buddy’s scratching drifts down from his room, but his eyes dart down to Jonas as he feels a hand wrap around his bicep.

“I bet he was Jason,” Jonas muses.

“...What?”

“Freddie. I bet he was Jason for Halloween, at least one year. Seems like something he’d do, at least from what you’ve told me.”

“Every year,” Mitch swallows thickly. Jonas laughs, genuine and real but soft. He lays his head into Mitch’s arm again with a sigh.

“I’m sorry this Halloween’s so lame, then,” he hums, sounding apologetic. Mitch pulls back, and Jonas jumps.

“Shit, what’re you talking about?” he blurts out. ‘This is exactly how I’d wanna spend it’ sits on his tongue, and out of his mouth comes, “I’m usually alone, so this is way better.”

Jonas raises his eyebrows, and Mitch coughs, “No, that’s not what I meant, I meant like actually this is what I’d wanna do, not just have you here ‘cus I didn’t wanna be alone, I didn’t mean it that-”

Jonas throws his head back again in laughter, curling his hands around his stomach and flinging himself back into the couch. It echoes against the cold walls of the trailer as tears start to form at the corner of his eyes. Mitch covers his red face, laying his head in his hands and mumbling for Jonas to stop and relax and seriously shut up before he’s laughing too, ugly and rough into his hands.

“W-well,” Jonas starts breathlessly, his chest still shaking with giggles before he clears his throat, “if it makes any difference, this is probably the best Halloween I’ve had, too.”

“We haven’t done shit, Spots,” Mitch runs his fingers through his hair, shaking his head and looking down into Jonas hazel eyes which seem to glow in the darkness.

“Yeah, but I’m having fun... and you’re not alone,” he teases, before adding softly, “and I’m the one who gets to keep you company.”

Holy shit. How the hell did he get so lucky?

“What?”

Oh fuck, that actually just exited his mouth.

“I-” he starts, looking everywhere but Jonas’ eyes, “I- I- uh, I didn’t mean-”

“Oh... oh, no, it’s fine. We all say stuff we don’t mean. When we’re high. I guess,”

“Fuck, c’mon, you know I meant it.”

“You just said you didn’t, Mitch, it’s really fine.”

“I did,” he says firmly, leaning towards Jonas, tongue feeling heavy in his mouth as he desperately tries to explain away his stupid mistake. “I do, I am lucky. To have you here. I am.”

There’s a silence after he makes the affirmation. Their thighs are touching and Mitch gulps as he realizes how close he’s leaned in, fingers curled around Jonas’ shoulder. He’s staring at Jonas, not into his eyes but at his nose, at the freckles there, and he can’t help his gaze from wandering down, further, to his lips. Subconsciously he runs his tongue over his own lip, lost in his high and the color of Jonas’ skin.

Jonas leans back, and Mitch stupidly leans with him until Jonas is pressed into the cushions, curls spread out like a halo around his head.

“You don’t mean that,” Jonas whispers, and Mitch can feel his warm breath.

“I do,” his voice comes out softer than he’d meant it as he feels Jonas’ hands on his chest, curling into the fabric of his t-shirt and not pushing away like he’d expected them to. He’s waiting for Jonas to shove him, curl away from him, anything, but he doesn’t. So Mitch lowers just slightly, coming down on his elbow and using his other arm to cage Jonas in and curl around his head.

“You d-don’t” Jonas whispers again, and Mitch lets himself fall further until their bodies are so close, close enough that he can feel the heat radiating off Jonas, but not yet touching. After it feels like they’ve been leaning back for a century, Mitch’s nose meets Jonas’.

“C’mon Joey, you gotta know I do,” he mumbles. Their breath is fast, and he can feel the warmth of Jonas’ lower lip just almost against him. Their noses are pressed together, their foreheads touching, but neither of them move. Mitch wills his body to shift, to do it, God just fucking do it already, kiss him like he’s always wanted to, but he’s frozen.

“Will- will you still want th-this, like want me, when you’re not high?” Jonas squeaks softly, and Mitch crumbles.

“I- fuck, of course... always. You want this, though? Jonas, if you wake up tomorrow and you hate stupid ugly dumb Mitch Mueller for kissing you, I will hate myself so much more-”

He’s silenced as Jonas pulls them together, their lips colliding awkwardly as their teeth cut into their skin.

Jonas just kissed him. Jonas just kissed him. And he’s still doing it, holy shit. Jonas slides his trembling, inexperienced hands up from Mitch’s chest to his neck, into his hair, and Mitch shudders as the smaller boy whimpers only slightly. He wastes no time deepening the kiss, prodding Jonas with his tongue, tasting his teeth, gnawing on his lip, pulling back to breathe heavily for a moment before pulling him in even more tightly than before. In a moment when he pulls back, to peek his eyes open to just confirm that this is actually really happening, his chest twists at the way Jonas glows under the pink light illuminating the space around them.

Jonas opens his eyes too, face flushed and lips swollen and Mitch melts.

“So lucky.”

They kiss until their high wears off, until it feels so real and visceral that Mitch has to pull away and fall onto his side, gather Jonas into his chest and nuzzle into his hair.

“Why’d you stop?” Jonas whispers, tugging at the wet collar of his t-shirt, pulling it over the marks starting to bloom on his neck.

“I didn’t wanna take things too far,” he hums, kissing Jonas’ curls and trying to angle his hips away from Jonas’ side. His plan backfires, and he ends up pressing himself straight into Jonas’ plush hip, causing them both to jump. “I also gotta cool down a little,” he mumbles, looking away. Jonas giggles breathlessly.

“Yeah... me too... because I should be getting home soon,” he looks up but Mitch doesn’t look back, just lets his eyes slip shut and pretends to not feel his heart pull.

“Not yet, please” he whispers into the side of Jonas’ freckled face.

“I don’t want to, but it’s past 2 and I know Sid’s probably-”

“It’s past 2?” He interrupts, eyes widening. Jonas nods underneath him, inching his chin up for another kiss. Mitch feels like the king of the universe when he ducks down to press their lips together softly, almost getting lost in the feeling of Jonas surrounding him before he raises up.

“So I guess it’s not Halloween anymore....”

“Mm, I guess not,” Jonas murmurs against his chin, kissing the underside of his jaw.

“I haven’t liked Halloween since- for a while,” Mitch says, muffled by Jonas’ lips as he pulls face down again.

“You like Halloween again?”

“If I get to spend it like this, yeah.” Mitch wraps Jonas tighter, presses his face into the crook of his neck and inhales as he squeezes Jonas’ middle, savoring him.

“That could be arranged,” Jonas says softly before their kissing again, forgetting the talk of leaving or stopping or cooling down as they wrap up into each other again, and for the first time in a long time Mitch isn’t lonely. The room glows pink and the moon glows silver in the fall air, and it’s not shitty, it’s not empty, and nothing’s missing.

[ivemetyouathousandways]

Let the rain wash it all away

Kvennesviga - Skålevik - Norway - Saturday 12:00 pm 

The sky was still relatively clear when a deafening explosion made me near jump out of my skin. Agent Brager had a small jump in his seat but kept his cool, hands firm on the steer wheel, foot on the pedal, everything under control. Sven slipped an arm around me and pulled me to him, not giving a damn that we were in fact in the back of a patrol vehicle, and not a taxi, and just about as I was signing the oh so beneficial “let’s not burst straight out of my chest” peace treaty with my heart, the skies opened as if the conglomerate of currently available, and ready to take your queries, gods, all decided to flush some heavenly toilets in some sort of Olympic synchronized grandiose spectacle, letting the Holy Mother of all downpours descend upon us like a wondrous cataclysmic waterfall. All of a sudden, the windshield was a beautiful liquid curtain, in the very literal sense of the poetic expression, a moving 3-D special effect in the absolute practicality. Agent Brager quickly put the wipers to maximum capacity but the poor mechanics were  barely delivering a second of clarity per stroke. 

Time seemed to have almost stopped and trapped us in some sort of odd intemporality, captured in the heavy, furious, raindrops clapping hard against the roof, their thick isolating liquid veil blinding us from all sides, the wipers struggling against the flooded windshield. On one front, I could literally feel Agent Brager behind the wheel, tense, on edge. On the  complete opposite end of the spectrum, on the backseat, Sven, his arm around me, was about the human manifestation of a warm snug blanket and pillow in which i was gladly sinking in. I vaguely wondered at which point I adopted his nonchalant perspective on our situation and stopped caring that we were in a patrol vehicle and not a cab. 

“Home sweet home!” Agent Brager declared joyously from the driver’s seat. 

I pulled away from Sven, instantly missing his warmth. The rain had lost about a whooping ten to twenty percent of it’s original intensity, still roaring proudly, still a deluge. I looked at the water curtain on the back passenger' window and hugged my purse tight to myself. I had left the house in my turtle neck alone, Sven had grabbed a light jacket coat at the last moment, and we were now equally soaked; me hugging my small bohemian purse in a vain attempt to protect my deck of cards and my passport from the wet beast from the skies, Sven struggling a little with the key and lock. 

“At least the rain washed the blood off.” He smiled back at me, holding the door open.

I shyly stepped in, minimizing the dripping zone as much as possible. 

“Come, come, you’ll catch death if you stand there!” And again a gentle arm behind my shoulders invited me to step in.

I awkwardly stepped in the space between the kitchen and the living room and stood in a very concise spot, dripping away in an Illy puddle. 

Sven rushed back with a blanket and stopped in front of me. Yes, a blanket would keep me warm but, the underlying problem was still very undeniably wet and cold against my skin, making me tremble from shivers.

“Would you like to take a warmth bath?”

I nodded. 

“Can you check in my purse if my deck is okay?” I asked after Sven filled the bathtub with near boiling hot water to my request. “And my passport.” Because, accessorily, my passport was also important, but my cards, they were special to me.

He nodded and left me to my bath. 

From one water to another - from freezing cold downpour to a burning hot comforting bath. From one man to another - from cold and distant King of Swords, to a warm and welcoming King of Cups. From the unbearable stress of being on the same social media at the same moment to the - 

To the soft knock on the door.

“I brought you clothes.”

“You can come in, Sven.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mmhm.”

I had my eyes closed but I imagined him carefully putting down a small pile of clothes on the closed lid of the toilet, stopping, surprised, maybe a little unease - was my nakedness too soon? - one more step, kneeling down by the tub. I felt hot water been squeezed out of a sponge hit and run down my shoulder. A simple gesture filled with care and tenderness. The soft caress of the sponge on my neck and under my chin, plunging in the water to pick up some more to be soon squeezed out on the my opposite shoulder. 

“I’m sorry for all of this mess.” He apologized, a little tired. “I never meant to drag you in this mess.”

“Then, what good do I serve in your life, if I can’t take any of the load off your shoulders?” I asked, and I wondered if we weren’t going too fast, too deep.

“Your cards are alright” I felt his finger on my cheek “they are dry.”

Dry. Wet. Water. 

Water. We are constituted from 70% of water, we need water to continue living, I mean, sure oxygen is the biggest non-negotiable dependable element to our operational state of being, but water was unquestionably the second most important. Water soothes. Water heals. Water cleans and cleanses. The sound of water relaxes - rain, ocean, bath water’s gentle tingle and dripple.

“How do you say water in Norwegian?”

He soaked the sponge and squeezed it out on the back of my neck.

“Vann”

One last run.

“I’ll let you finish up.”

“Thanks for everything, Sven.”

“It’s nothing.”

My heart melted when I saw that the clothes he was lending me were his own. A black hoodie cut in the shape of t-shirt with white sleeves and the mention “cult leader” on the chest, a pair of dark grey sweatpants with a cord to adjust the waist, and a nondescript pair of new, clean, pair of undies. Aww! Thank you Sven! For a second I thought of sporting only the panties and hoodie and go down like that but it could be too much. Too much, too fast. My mind ran in the hypothetical alternate reality and my heart raced a little. His hand slipping under the hoodie, freeing me from the whooping five minutes it had been in service. My tongue swirling around his. Would it be long, slow strokes or would be caught by fire and rushing it a little? A hand was bound to rid me of the undies, a finger or two would soon press against Satan’s doorbell… Unless it had another appellation when someone else maneuvered the rosebud?

I drained the bath water, trying to cool my thoughts. It would be a mistake…

You mean another one on your extensive list of?

You’ll have to agree he’d be one hell of a hot mistake though.

We are trying to heal from the last one. Snap out of it!

I pulled my tongue at my other self in my head. Party pooper!

Was I that desperate or that weak? Now, this is a question to be dissected later on, with a proper cooled down head, back at the B&B. Apparently, it was suggested that rape victims get back into the swing of things and have sexual experiences fairly shortly after their traumatic encounter, but was that method samely valid for broken hearts?

I dried my hands and went down to find Sven sitting on the floor of the living room, like we were on our first morning, cards laid out on the coffee table before him. He picked up one, studied the illustration and put it back, carefully, with the upmost respect, as if some ancient, unknown, powerful fairy would suddenly jump out straight at his jugular.

“They don’t bite, you know.”

He looked up, caught red handed. Why was he so goddamn adorable and charming and… Sven, you weren’t meant to… Oh, wait, I never had the power to decide how others would make me feel by simply existing and tumbling in my life.

Space was tight but I snuck in between the table and him, sitting between his legs. Is the message clear enough, Sir? I was happy, though, that he couldn’t see my flushing face because my attitude was causing a serious cheek burn!

“What were you asking them?” I asked, leaning back against him, making myself comfortable.

Right on cue, his arm comfortably rounded itself around me, blessing my prosperous attitude with the answer I was hoping for.

“The first row, I asked if a girl I been seeing recently, has any mutually shared interest and feelings.”

Ace of Wands, Ace of Cups, Lovers.

“How is said girl?”

“Hard to pinpoint.” He kissed the back of my head. “Only known her for the past three days.”

I snort giggled. Well, then, the cards have spoken and blatantly betrayed me.

“The Ace of Wands can be a young passionate person, a lovable rogue, they like action and are fiery. Could be an astrological sign ruled by fire. They like action, travels, diversified experiences, expanding knowledge, philosophy.”

“I am fairly certain she likes to travel, yes. Sadly don’t know her astrological sign nor if she likes philosophy.”

I swallowed my saliva as discreetly as I could and combated stress induced stiffness.

“She’s a Leo and she loves poking the mind’s terra incognita.”

Sven dropped a kiss behind my ear.

“Favorite intellectual or philosopher?”

Cornered.

“I don’t really know. I often drop Nietzsche’s name but it’s mainly because of that one nugget of gold he had left us.”

“Det som ikke dreper oss, gjør oss sterkere.”

“I’ll have to trust you on that.” I picked up the Ace of Cups. “New romance, new feelings, elation, a sense of conquering the world. Heart is overflowing with bounty, happiness. And the Lovers is the nail nailing the coffin shut. Especially in a love and romance reading, it’s one of the best omens you could hope for.”

Second row had the King of Cups surrounded by the five of cups to the left, the past, and the eight of wands to the right, the future. 

“What was your question here?”

“How does she - you - perceive me?”

“You are the king of Cups" I started.

“Do I feel that old to you?” He cut me off, picking up the card where a long,shaggy, silver white haired king held a cup and looked at the horizon. 

The king of Cups had one of those very strong, thin, sharp, conquering style noses that added even more severity to his already serious face where forehead wrinkles accentuated the sharp attentive eyes under which tired eye bags were added, as if the crows’s feet weren’t enough to show the long lived tiredness of the King. He wasn’t per se frowning, but he wasn’t smiling either. 

Among the Court carts, in the Dark Mansion Tarot deck, the King of Cups was undeniably the eldest king, as if Emotions were the first kingdom from which the fire of the wands, the mental stealth of the swords and the earthly bounties of the pentacles all flowed from. The original fountain of eternal life, the core essence of all human matters : emotions. 

“An emotionally mature man” I reprised, like a teacher subtly scolding a misbehaving pupil, “who is in full control of their emotions. He, the King of Cups, is calm and caring, diplomatic, affectionate, romantic, charming.You are surrounded by grief, and sadness, mourning, a heart break, but that is in your past; the Five of Cups. Ahead of you, or what you may be hoping for, you want to move away from the pain and hurt, is the Eight of Wands; movement, action, being swept off your feet, infatuation, strong positive forward energies.”

Next row had the Six of Cups framed by the the three of Swords to the left and the queen of Pentacles to the right.

“You miss your previous life with your wife and daughter. You were happy and fulfilled. You can’t quite stop reminiscing about the past, it brings you comfort but also heartache.”

“I didn’t tell you what my question was.”

But the sadness in his voice, even though subtle, was loud and clear enough. A muted cry of despair, silenced by his own strength.

“What was your question?” I whispered solemnly, as if I was talking with the dead.

He let his head rest on my shoulder.

“I don’t need to repeat it, you and the cards can see through all too well.”

“What happened with your wife?” I wanted to regret my question but i didn’t find it in me to do so.

“She was bored.” A whisper, a cry out to who wanted to hear his side. “I had accustomed her to fancy parties and cocktails, varnishes and somewhat big shots, celebrities. I groomed a monster.”

I didn’t move and fought myself violently to not drop judgmental bombs.

“I’m a sculptor, an artist.” He thought good to give me context. “You known how those things go, you must have seen some in movies. It’s exactly like that; fancy gowns and dresses, tailored suits, expensive jewelry, whispered secrets, enough compliments to drunken Satan himself, luxury left, right and center, connections. So and So is the proprietor of this or that estate in the mountains or near a lake, would love to have us over for brunch and discuss a custom piece. And it’s a beautiful illusion that hides unforgiving, merciless sharp teeth.”

I could just about taste and swallow the sour regret, the sharp burn as I was hearing out his long held truth.

“She had made herself a diamond river necklace of wealthy influential friends. And soon enough I was relegated to the influence the shadow of my name had to open even more influential doors. She wanted a bigger house to show off our wealth and prestige. A loft or a condominium in the capital. I didn’t share her views. I wanted our daughter to grow up in a healthy environment, rocked by the sounds of the ocean, eat healthy foods, be grounded.”

He sighed.

“Enough rambling of things long gone and past.”

“I guess, but, I have learned that keeping stuff inside is not exactly efficient or helpful.” I nudged and awaited his contratempo, realizing I been holding things back myself.

“Like you not fully letting your pain out to be examined and healed.”

What did I say!

“We have nothing in common.” I mumbled. “He’s secretive, not much of his personal life is out there to be looked at. I, on the other hand, I am too open, apparently I open my soul and heart. He speaks with his voice, I speak with the silence of my written words.”

Can you get any less… I dunno, vague?

Yeah, sure! Gimme a sec.

“Oh and he’s a YouTuber and I’m a fan, so, already there, it starts off all sorts of wrong.”

“Why?” He asked, dumbfounded as if it otherwise wouldn’t have any substantial impact.

“Because it has the same dynamic as a regular fan has for a celebrity, with all the potential” I waved and rolled my hand “the potential to ... You know how it can be. The only thing I demand and require from any man who has sparked fires in my heart is help in my sleeping process and inspiration for my writing.”

He hugged me tight and dropped a few more kisses on my neck. Sven, I swear, if you continue like that, we’ll be, sooner than later, end very naked and very entangled on the floor… And I’m not entirely against the potential of that, to be completely honest.

The very last row had five cards spread out and I wondered why or what had been happened in his thought process.

“What was your last question and why five cards?”

A hand finally snuck under the hoodie. I thought he’d never have the nerve to, but he remained a perfect gentleman, only gently brushing my side.

“What do the cards tell, overall?” He whispered in my ear and the warmth of his breath made me wish I was under some heavy duvet with him. I wanted his skin, his damp breath, his energy, his warmth against me, in me.

Is this a trick question?

The Devil was surrounded by The Fool at the far left extremity, then the Knight of Wands and the Hierophant to the far right and the Emperor right next to it.

“Well, what ever you asked, it’s… Very mixed.” I interpreted the overall theme, not wanting to project my own desires in the cards.

“The central card, the Devil is about addiction, seduction, superficiality, sexuality, taboo practices. It’s a very material, physical card. It’s usually the lower instincts of mankind.The Fool, on the far far left is about new beginnings, taking a leap of faith, being open minded to new things, an innocent view on the world, he’s just ready to experience the Grand Everything without fear or tainted thoughts.” I loved the fool, he was the innocence the world has lost. “Give me a clue, Sven. Is this card representing the past? A person?”

“Not the past.” He picked up the Fool. “Maybe the girl - or an aspect of the girl - who this reading concerns.“

"So then, let’s say that the left of the Devil is me, and cards to the right of the Devil is you.”

“Let me guess, left, the feminine, right the masculine.”

I nodded.

“Would it make sense?” His warm breath in my ear caressed my senses, sparking electric discharges. 

“Yes. The emperor is a mature, family man, he likes structure and he’s protective, he likes stability." I showed him the card in question, another long bearded crowned figure, expecting, awaiting a snazzy comment that didn’t come. “And you see this Hierophant, he stands for traditional values, conventional and conform ideas and practices, whereas the Knight of Wands is hasty, adventurous, rebellious, daring, a bit of a hot head who likes to make their own beaten dirt paths. 

I looked over at the cards, not convinced, not sold. 

“You sure you don’t want to tell me what your question was?” I asked pouting a little, hoping to pull some emotional strings.

“Ja."

I wanted to pull my tongue at him, but I wasn’t physically in a position where it would advantage my desired intention. I shuffled the cards, asking what he had asked about, what his intentions were, but the cards only offered conspiratory giggles back at me. The moon and Temperance.

“I asked what you meant, in that last question, but the Cards seemed to have sided with you.” I pouted. “The moon is something hidden and Temperance is patience and balance, a chemistry of opposing forces, alchemy, in sorts.” 

Hm.... that should bring an interesting light, eventually when inspiration and insight would hit and tingle my brain. I sighed and gently started assembling my crew to put them away in their box.

“What ate your plans for this afternoon?” He asked holding me tight to him.

“I don’t know… Wait for the rain to calm down and head home.” I was also starting to feel a little hungry. “Unless you have a better offer.”

“You are already home.” He corrected. “And we could upgrade our position for the sofa. Netflix and chill, as you younglings say.”