#this looks really col and is right up my alley

[whumpzone]

Lost Property - 30

(masterpost)

Previous - Next

CW: pet whump, dehumanisation

-

In the kitchen, Col was calming down enough to talk between sobs. The two of them were mirroring, knelt on the floor and leaning into each other. 

“I’m sorry,” he hiccupped. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay…” Linden murmured. He hoped Col found it comforting instead of just stressful additional noise. 

Lydia’s comment about Colton being the hero in this story had calmed him down enormously. He was still desperate to hear what had happened, but his initial fear had been that Col had lashed out baselessly- something Linden could hardly imagine. His relief allowed him to give Col the time he needed, too. Linden could wait. 

“Lydia said you were a hero. That makes me feel proud, Col. Whatever you did must have been for a good reason.”

Colton nodded against Linden’s shoulder. “Y-Yes, Sir, yes, it was, p-p-please, I swear it was.”

“Lydia also said she could tell me what happened, but I’d rather hear it from you, if you’re able to tell me.”

“I’ll, I’ll, I’ll tell you Sir, but please, sh-show me mercy, please. Miss Lydia c-c-can tell you if I’m lying or not.”

“I won’t need to check,” Linden said. “I trust you. I won’t be angry.”

He would much rather hear it from his own Col, than from Lydia. He saw both as equally trustworthy, but this was an opportunity for Col to speak for himself. 

He slid a hand down Colton’s arm, slowly rubbing his thumb in circles. Col pushed into it, ever so slightly, and when Linden took a deep breath, Col managed to match it. 

“Okay, Sir. I’m ready, I’m ready. It was in the night, when Miss Lydia and I were walking home, a man, uh, he just leapt out and started threatening Miss Lydia with a knife, so I…”

“...you punched him. Wow. That is incredibly brave.”

Col pulled his head away from Linden’s shoulder just enough to flick his eyes up to his face. Checking if he was in mortal trouble or not. The grief on his face didn’t leave, but whatever he saw when he looked at Linden gave him the strength to speak on.

“I punched him in the neck, and then, then I kicked him. And I kicked the knife away. And then we ran.” His eyes fell to the floor, wide but unfocused. He was back down that alley as he spoke, watching the whole scene unfold again. “And I did it all… without being told to. I just did it.”

It wasn’t lost on Linden how much Col was speaking right now. And how honest he was being. Even emphasising his own disobedience- the sin of exercising his free will. 

“You acted. I would have been frozen in a situation like that. You knew what to do, and you did it.”

Col bit back a sob and briefly met Linden’s eyes. 

“Yes,” he confirmed gravely. “I acted. I’m- I’m so sorry.”

“It was a good thing,” Linden urged. “Col, you saved yourself and Lydia. You really did! You… I am so proud of you. What did Lydia say after it?”

She better have praised you from dusk until dawn, he thought. His pride was suddenly diluted by the knowledge that Linden hadn’t been there to say all of this in the moment. 

“She gave me a bar of chocolate, Sir,” Col said, still just as somberly. Linden couldn’t help but crack a smile. 

“That’s…good.”

“A-And she put my head in her lap, and let me cry, and she, uh, she promised not to tell you.”

A spark of indignation flared up, but Linden quashed it immediately. He could see this from Col’s perspective.

“I understand that. In that situation, you did the right thing, and you kept Lydia safe. But I know that you would never have been allowed to punch someone, before.” That’s putting it lightly. “I’m happy I know about it now. I can tell you, right here in person, that I’m not angry. And, god Col, I’d never put you down. You mustn’t think that. You mustn’t ever think I’d do such a thing.”

“Thank you, Sir, you are so forgiving, I can’t even s-say how grateful I am.”

Quiet settled on them again as they both processed uncountable emotions. It was Linden, as always, who broke the silence after a few minutes. 

“You mean so much to me, Col. We’re in this together. You’re brave and smart and very, very important. Thank you so much for telling me this in your own words. I’m proud of you for what you did. Can you repeat that back to me?”

“You’re proud of your pet, Sir.”

“Okay,” Linden made sure not to sigh. “Shall we go and see the others?”

*

After some time, Linden and Col walked together into the living room. Col kept to a respectful half-step behind his owner, his head lowered, but there was visibly less tension in his shoulders. When he cautiously glanced up at Lydia, there was a new spark in his red-rimmed eyes. 

Linden also looked wrung out, but the smile he gave Lydia and Cory was open and bright.

“Now,” he said, “Would the two of you like some tea?” 

A short while later Lydia was sitting in one of the armchairs, one leg draped over the other, cradling a cup of what Linden (truthfully, she thought) had called his ‘good tea’.

Cory was kneeling next to her chair and - watching him - Col had knelt down on the floor on the opposite side of the table. That earned him a slightly worried look from Linden. Still, the raven-haired man had not made any comment. He’d just handed out pillows to both of the pets and taken his own place on the sofa. 

Both Lydia and Linden took pains in keeping the conversation light, first chatting about the rewards and tribulations of travelling. After Lydia had mentioned her bookshop they discovered, with genuine delight, some common literary interests.

Lydia noticed suddenly that Coriander was swaying where he knelt next to her, intermittently nodding off and then straightening up again.

“Hey love,” she’d said, reaching out and petting her hand over his blonde locks in an easily affectionate caress, “you look absolutely beat. Perhaps you’d like to go to bed?” She looked across the table at Col. “You look pretty done in too.” She gave both pets a reassuring smile, to emphasise that she didn’t mean it as criticism. “It has been a long day today so it’s no wonder that you are tired out.” 

”I’m actually not that sleepy yet.” She sought Linden’s gaze as she continued, carefully keeping her tone light. “And I brought some wine. What do you think, perhaps we should send these guys off to bed and have a glass?”

“Send them off to bed?” Linden queried, matching her upbeat voice. “Like naughty children?”

“They just look awfully spent, and I can’t really blame them.”

“Col,” Linden asked, leaning down and addressing him directly. “If you’d like to head on to bed, please feel free. It’s been a long day. But if you’re not tired, then stay up as long as you’d like.”

Col’s eyes momentarily snapped between Linden and Lydia. “I am quite tired, Sir. If I may…?”

“Of course. I hope you sleep well, sweet. How about you, Cory?”

“Yes, this pet is ready for bed, sir,” Cory replied, rising to his feet and giving them both a smooth smile. Col followed a few seconds after, pushing himself up and balancing steadily on the carpet.

*

“There you go.” Miss Lydia had said, standing in the doorway. “Snug as a bug in a rug, the two of you.” She’d smiled. “Sleep tight.” 

“Good night,” Linden had added, before turning off the light. “If either of you need anything, we’ll be just downstairs.” 

Then, he’d closed the door. If Cory listened closely, the pet could hear the hum of their conversation in the living room, too faint to make out any words, but a reassuring presence all the same.

The darkened room and the view from the window looked different from this angle. Cory was lying on a mattress on the floor next to the newly made-up bed where Col was a silent presence.

Linden had discreetly - but not discreetly enough to avoid Coriander’s sharp attention - asked Col if he was all right with Cory sharing his room, and the larger pet had of course assented. Coriander wondered what the pet really thought. 

Was he resentful at having to share his room for the night? How did he feel about Cory spending several days alone with his master? Was he indifferent or uncomfortable with the situation? 

Coriander decided to break the ice. 

“T-thank you for helping Miss Lydia.” 

Col frowned, as if he didn’t like thinking about it, but then he nodded curtly, without saying anything. 

“Y-your Master has been very kind.” That felt like a safer topic, with the added benefit of being true. “M-much kinder than this pet deserves.”

Col lay silent for a couple of heartbeats, then he turned to lie on his side towards Cory.

“Your Mistress has been very kind, too.” He said. “She let me do the things she was planning to do with you. She must treat you very well.”

Cory couldn’t hear any jealousy or bitterness in Colton’s voice. It sounded like a simple statement, and Cory nodded.

“Yeah,” it agreed. “She does.”

“I’m happy my Master was good to you,” Col mused, “But I knew he would be.”

Cory considered this. “This pet knew Miss Lydia would be good to you, too. B-but you are so quiet, and so well-behaved. She would have had no reason to get annoyed.”

In the dim moonlight, Cory saw the way Col’s eyebrows furrowed. Not in anger, just innocent confusion. “No, I’m a terrible pet. I’ve never managed to learn how to be good like you.”

Now it was Cory’s turn to be confused. “Like me? Not at all.”

“But you are so pretty, and polite, and, a-and, so graceful.”

“No, this pet is nothing but annoying and presumptuous. T-this pet spent all its time here being way too loud and-” Cory stopped itself before it could divulge how it’d woken up Colton’s Master with an ugly screaming nightmare. 

“You’re not!” Col said urgently, then bit his tongue. “Unless, if that is what your Mistress says, then…”

“She doesn’t say that,” Cory said reluctantly, and Col exhaled in a little huff. 

“You are so good, Cory.”

The name sounded nice in Col’s voice. Cory could see the way Col’s mouth had turned down in sadness. This time, there was a twinge of bitterness to his words.

“This pet has made plenty of mistakes, i-it promises. And been owned by several different humans. I-it was never good enough for them, eventually. It is trying to be good enough for Miss Lydia.”

Col sat up a little, propping himself up on one elbow. His timid voice was so at odds with his tall frame that Cory felt itself forgetting about their size differences. 

“I had a past owner. Then I was homeless for a bit, until Master took me in. I’m trying to be good enough, too.”

Col reached his free hand out, over the edge of the bed towards Cory, until his palm hung outstretched in the air. Cory smiled, understanding, and reached its own hand up until the two met. 

Though he was undoubtedly stronger, there was none of that strength in the way Col let his fingers close around Cory’s. The two held hands for only a few seconds, but it was enough to get across what neither of them could say with words. It was Col that let go first. 

Cory looked up into the ceiling with a little smile.

-

taglist part 1:

@cupcakes-and-pain @whump-em @wh-wh-whu @neuro-whump @carnagecardinal @cowboy-anon @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @myst-in-the-mirror @haro-whumps @eatyourdamnpears @bloodsweatandpotato @pinkraindropsfell @whumptywhumpdump @theydy-cringeworthy @whump-in-progress @whumpsy-daisy @nicolepascaline @whumpcreations @briars7 @shiningstarofwinter @whumppsychology @alex-ember @miss-kitty-whumptastic @whumpy-writings @in-patient-princess @youtube-fandoms-bands @goblinchildindabog @mazeish @distinctlywhumpthing @inpainandsuffering @canniboylism @incoherent-introspection @kim-poce @broken-typewriter @the-monarch-whumperfly @whumpers-inc @grizzlie70 @lil-whumper @writingbackwards @sunflower1000 @wingedwhump @thecitythatdoesntsleep @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @onlybadendings @rabass @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning

[the-iceni-bitch]

The Days and Nights are Long

Pairing: clueless!Colin Shea x clueless!fem Reader

Words: ~4K

Summary: You and Colin are being idiots and it’s driving his band crazy.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (m receiving oral sex, unprotected vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, squirting), idiots in love, SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY!!!

A/N: It took way longer than I had planned but here’s some more of our drunk, musical idiots in love for you hoes!!! I love them so, even though they’re morons. Tagging my Colin babes @starlightcrystalline and @wayward-blonde because I know they’ve been waiting for this.

I no longer do taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!

Colin shook his head and shrugged uncomfortably as he stared at his phone, wracking his brain to think of what exactly he should say to you.

“For fuck’s sake, Shea, just ask her to come up.” Matt looked exasperated, twirling his stick through his fingers as he rolled his eyes when Colin scowled at him.

He’d been moping for the past two weeks, ever since the two of you had slept together. All of his bandmates were getting sick of it, the man was the biggest pouty baby on the face of the planet. If they had to listen to him sing Everybody Hurts one more time they were going to kill him.

So they’d come up with a little plan to get him out of his funk, lining up a gig that would really lend itself better to a female vocalist and feigning innocence when Colin pointed that out. They had really enjoyed hanging out with you on that exceptionally hot evening, and if having you join them again was the only way to get their boy out of his funk, even better. He had actually smiled before pulling his phone out, but then he realized he had no idea what he should say.

The two of you had still been cordial whenever you ran into each other, but there was definitely a strain to your interactions now. No matter how much you both told each other it wasn’t awkward, it was definitely awkward. It was also weird that he was pretty sure you hadn’t come home after 1 AM at all in the last two weeks, and you usually at least spent your weekend nights at some other asshole’s apartment. Not that he’d had any visitors either, but he didn’t want to explore that too much.

He was still staring at his phone screen and trying to come up when some nonchalant greeting that would entice you to come sing with them when the phone was suddenly plucked out of his hand by an exasperated looking Keith, who ignored his spluttering as he typed a quick message before tossing the phone back to him.

“You’re thinking about this too hard.” The bassist said, setting to tuning his instrument and chuckling at the indignant look on Colin’s face.

Colin was about to give a snarky reply when he felt his phone buzz and looked down to see a text from you, grinning when he saw you saying you’d be right up. With an exclamation point! He didn’t even notice the pleased grins his bandmates were giving each other as they watched him start to tune his guitar, plucking a happy little tune and humming to himself.

They were all expecting you to come through the main door from the stairs, so when you shouted hello from behind them after climbing up your fire escape, you were greeted with the sight of five grown men almost jumping out of their skins before turning to greet you.

That grin on your face was enough to make Colin melt, all the awkwardness that had been lingering between you disappearing in an instant when you met each other’s eyes.

“Alright boys!” You took the mic Brad handed you with a warm smile, rolling it in one hand as you trailed the cord through your fingers. “You said you needed my help with something Col, what’s up?”

“Right, these idiots lined up a gig for us without consulting me first.” They all avoided his halfhearted glare with doe eyed innocence, focusing on their instruments. “And, well, the set list isn’t really in my range.”

“Lemme see.” You took the sheet of paper from his hand and scanned it quickly. “That’s a whole lot of girl rock.”

“Yeah, like I said, Ann Wilson and I aren’t really in the same register.” Fuck, it was nice to be able to talk to you again.

“Why don’t you just modulate it, then?” You mumbled absentmindedly.

He gaped like a fish at that question. He honestly hadn’t even thought about it, and even if he had, he wasn’t expecting you to know about modulation.

“If we modulate for him, none of us can hit the harmonies.” Craig piped up from behind the keyboards, and he could have kissed him.

“That right?” You teased, shooting a wicked smirk around at them. “You boys sure you didn’t just miss me?”

Colin tried not to sound too hysterical when he let out a laugh, missing the indulgent eye rolls his band mates were giving behind your backs.

“What do you think, we booked a gig where I can’t sing any of the songs on purpose just so we could hang out again?” Good thing he was pretty, the man was clueless.

“No, you’re not that clever, Col.” He made a mock wounded gesture and you grinned at him, looking over the set list some more. “What kind of gig is this anyway?”

“Yeah, Craig, you never told us what the actual gig was.” Colin and the rest of the band gave the keyboardist a variety of inquisitive stares.

“Uh, it’s a bachelorette party.” He mumbled, avoiding making eye contact with his bandmates when they started groaning.

“Fuck, Craig! I do not want to get felt up by a bunch of drunk, horny women!” Colin threw a balled up sheet of music at you when you started laughing.

“That seems right up your alley, Shea.” You teased, dodging when he threw a pillow from the couch at you. “You don’t want to pick up some rowdy bridesmaid?”

“No, they’re scary aggressive.” He shuddered when he thought about the last bachelorette party they had done, they’d practically ripped the band’s clothes off before they could get out of there.

“Aww, well I’ll be there to shield you this time, sweetie.” You winked at him and moved a little closer to everyone. “Let’s practice, boys. Don’t want to give those girls cause to complain.”

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

It was the day of the gig, and you and Colin had decided to drive together to streamline things. He was waiting in your living room and tapping his foot nervously as he waited for you to finish getting ready, anxious about what actually performing with you would be like.

“Y/N, we need to go!” He never thought you would be the type to take forever getting ready.

“Yeah, I know!” You strolled out to the living room with a grin on your face and he had to swallow a groan. “How do I look?”

“Good, really good.” The way he was looking at you made your grin grow even wider.

The outfit wasn’t even that special, just a denim mini skirt and a tight v-neck tee with a leather jacket. Oh, and thigh high leather boots. It was definitely the boots he was staring at, his eyes trained on the few inches of bare skin between the top of the boots and the hem of your skirt. You gave him a couple minutes to just stare at you before rolling your eyes and strolling towards your front door, grabbing him by his shirt and pulling him after you.

“C’mon Shea, we don’t wanna be late.” You scolded, shoving his amp into his hand and slinging his guitar case over your shoulder before heading down the stairs.

He had trouble focusing on the road as he drove you to the bar the party was going to be at, all he wanted to do was memorize the way you looked in that outfit. It was like someone told you exactly what to wear to drive him crazy. Maybe bringing you into this gig hadn’t been the best idea, because all he wanted to do right now was pull over and let you ride him while you weren’t wearing anything except for those boots and that jacket, and maybe whatever lingerie you had on under that outfit.

“Colin, you’re going to miss the turn.” Your voice snapped him out of his little daydream, and he cursed as he took the turn towards the bar a little faster than he would have liked.

“Sorry, just got a little distracted.” He mumbled, slowing down as he turned into the alley behind the bar and put the car in park behind Matt’s van.

The rest of the band was already unloading, waving at you two as Colin shut off his vehicle and you stepped out. You actually gave Craig and Keith little side hugs before you started helping with the unloading, he hadn’t realized you guys had gotten that close over the past week, and for some reason it made him smile.

“How’s it going man?” He didn’t know how he felt about the look Matt was giving him as he helped carry the bass drum inside, it felt suggestive of something. “Y/N seems excited to be here.”

“Yeah, I thought she might be nervous about performing but she’s handling everything like a pro.” He watched you laugh at something Brad said as you worked on connecting your mic. “Maybe we should make her an official member.”

“Whatever you say, man.” Matt just shrugged, laughing when Colin rounded on him and started spluttering.

“I was joking! We can’t just ask Y/N to be in the band!” Could they? Having you around had been a lot of fun, and the band dynamic had helped alleviate some of the tension that had been growing between you two. But seeing you tonight looking like you did and knowing that you were gonna have to have some on stage chemistry to make this work was making him think twice about things. You got a little intense during rehearsals, and the added pressure of being on stage might make him combust if you kicked it up at all.

Matt shook his head at him and set to assembling his kit while the rest of the band started tuning and connecting their instruments. You just sat on a stool and sipped some water, running through a couple vocal exercises absentmindedly as you scrolled through your phone. It only took a couple of minutes for everyone to finish setting up and then it was mic checks all around.

Everything sounded good and balanced after a couple adjustments and the sound guys gave you the thumbs up to start warming up. Colin couldn’t stop watching you. You were so unbelievably relaxed on stage and it was just endearing you to him even more. He thought for sure you would have been a bundle of nerves but you seemed to be right in your element, tossing him a couple of lazy grins over your shoulder as you ran through a couple of songs before the partygoers started filtering in.

The band switched to doing some instrumental ambience shit while they waited for the party to really get going, and Colin wandered over to talk to you when you took a step back from your mic.

“Still feeling ok about this?” He asked, beaming back at the soft smile you gave him.

“Yeah, I’m excited.” You bounced on your toes a little, adrenaline flooding your veins as the crowd grew. “Think I’ll get any bras thrown at me?”

“You never know with bachelorettes.” He laughed, strolling back over to his own mic so he could introduce the band.

If he thought jamming with you was special, it was nothing compared to watching you perform. You were a goddamn natural, coming alive and feeding off the crowd’s energy until you were completely lost in the music. Every time his eyes met yours you were grinning at him, and your chemistry with the rest of the band was palpable.

Not to mention, you kept drifting close to him on the stage, brushing your hand over his shoulders or leaning against him when you harmonized and it was making his knees weak. , God, he could do this with you every night, even though he was pretty sure he was going to need to sneak into the bathroom to jerk off afterwards.

The show was over too soon, the extremely drunken crowd of rowdy bachelorettes finally getting crazy enough that the band was ready to make a hasty escape. You were bouncing on your toes with residual energy as you started helping the guys pack up their instruments, grabbing Colin’s amp after he shoved his guitar in the case and you both made a run for it to his car when a wobbly woman started to try to climb on the stage.

“Colin, holy fuck that was so much fun!” You managed to make it to the alley unscathed and were giving him the most heartbreaking grin. “We’re definitely doing this again.”

“Yeah? Well you did a great fucking job.” Goddamn it, he’d missed you. “We can do whatever you want, honey.”

“Really?” You slammed the trunk closed and started to prowl closer to him. “Whatever I want?”

“That is what I said.” He could feel his voice dropping into that low register that meant he was in desperate need of some sort of release, so he really hoped he wasn’t misreading this situation. “Why? Did you want something now?”

“I think I do.” Your chest was right against his and you could feel it heaving, gazing at him through your lashes while you ran your fingers over his abs. “I stole the keys to the van.”

“And, you wanna go on a joy ride?” He breathed deep when you brushed your lips over his, winding an arm around your waist and pulling you close.

“Or, we could just fuck in the back while the rest of the guys search for these.” You pulled back a little and jingled the keys in his face, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth while he ran his hands over your hips.

“Yeah, that’s a great idea.” He smashed his lips to yours and let out a low moan, his fingers digging into your ass while the two of you stumbled towards the side door of the van.

You fumbled with the keys for a minute because you didn’t want to take your mouth off Colin for any reason, but then you were sliding the door open and the two of you were falling inside in a tangle of limbs before somehow managing to kick the door closed behind you. Trying to undress each other was a little difficult with how wrapped up you were in each other but you managed, tossing your garments away haphazardly as your tongues curled tangled together. Colin grabbed your hands when you went to remove your boots, pulling them up to his face and kissing your palms before winding your arms around his neck.

“Keep those on.” His voice was a low growl and fuck, you forgot how sexy he was.

“Well, cannot say I’m surprised you're a little kinky, Col.” You wound your fingers through his hair and yanked, purring at the groan he gave you. “I’m gonna suck that pretty dick of yours, but then I’ll give it to you nice and rough.”

“God, baby.” He wished he didn’t sound so whiny when you started kissing your way down his chest, but he hadn’t gotten any release except from his hand for the past two weeks and he really needed you to keep doing what you were doing. “I’ll take whatever you give me.”

“Yeah? Knew you were a good boy.” You winked at him when you started kissing the skin above the band of his boxer briefs before you were yanking them down his thighs and immediately licking a heavy stripe up the underside of his cock when it sprung up against his abs.

Colin had to brace a hand against the side of the van when you worked him over, spitting on his tip and watching it drip down his length before spreading it over him with your lips. You wrapped your hand around his shaft and gave him a nice, smooth stroke as you ducked down between his length to press gentle kisses over his balls while you jerked him off. He almost choked on his tongue when you wrapped your lips around his sack and tugged softly, the hum you let out sending a vibration up his spine while your thumb swiped over his swollen tip.

The sounds he was making from just a handjob were enough to soak through the thin lace of your panties, and when he shouted your name when you moved a little lower and teased your tongue over his asshole, well you almost fucking came just from that. You couldn’t believe you had stupidly waited two fucking weeks before indulging in this man again, you finally felt like yourself again. It was driving you absolutely crazy, the way his hips were wriggling underneath you spurring you on until you couldn’t take it any more.

If he thought your hand was incredible, it was nothing compared to the feel of your lips wrapped around his tip while your tongue swirled around his sensitive head. With all the women he’d slept with, he’d definitely suffered through some mediocre and downright disappointing blow jobs. But you felt like you were about to suck the soul out of him, and you’d only just started.

“Ah, Christ.” He was going to pass out if you kept going like this, your mouth was like fucking heaven. “Honey, fuck.”

You shot him a wicked look when you started bobbing your head, taking him just a little deeper each time while your tongue curled around him as much as possible. Then you opened your throat and swallowed him whole and he lost his mind.

He wrapped his hand in your hair and held your head still as he started fucking your throat, his hips bucking wildly while you choked and sputtered around him. Drool was running down your chin and soaking his thighs as you started breathing through your nose, digging your fingers into his thighs while he used you like a fuck toy. You kept your tongue pressed flat against your bottom teeth to avoid choking on it, moaning softly when you tasted the salty tang of his precum hit your tongue. His grip on your hair was growing painful, and you could tell by the way his abs were twitching that he was close.

“Wait, ah shit!” He somehow managed to gather enough self control to pull out of your mouth, groaning at the long string of saliva that kept you connected even as you bit at your swollen lips. “I’m not coming unless it’s in that pretty pussy. How do you want it?”

“Fuck me from behind, Col.”

He growled as he sat up and smashed his lips to yours, savoring the taste of himself on your tongue before flipping your over and burying his face in your hair. You let out a low moan when he slammed into you with no warning, gasping at the punishing pace he was setting and purring when he started mouthing at your neck.

The van was shaking like some sort of cliche while Colin fucked into you with abandon, his hips bouncing off your ass in an obscene display while the two of you whined and panted together. Colin was going to lose his fucking mind, two weeks with barely even talking to you and now he was finally inside you it was all he could do to not go completely feral.

“Oh god, honey.” He was practically whining against your skin when you clenched around him, sucking your ear lobe between his lips while you arched your back and purred for him. “Fuck, you’re so tight and wet. Pussy so fucking good. Tell me you’re close, I need to feel you come.”

“So close, Colin, shit!” You gasped when he hit you deep, curling your body backwards around him and reaching over your shoulder to wind your fingers through his hair and press his lips to yours. “Need that dick so bad. Feel so good when you’re inside me.”

“I know, baby, I know.” He wound one hand around your neck and the other arm around your waist, holding you close while he kissed you deeply and swallowed your wanton mewls with a deep groan. “Come for me.”

His hips ground against you and you slapped the floor of the van when you came, sobbing into his mouth and vibrating underneath him while your pussy strangled his cock. Your teeth nipped at his lips once you were finished, humming happily as he continued fucking you through your high.

“Need more, Colin.” You whimpered when he started slowing down, trying to thrust your hips back towards him as you tried to bring yourself to the edge again. “Harder, I need it.”

“Fuck, I’ll give you whatever you fucking want.” He tugged at your lips with his teeth, squeezing your neck gently and groaning at your soft whimper as you clenched around him. “Jesus Christ, you feel so fucking good.”

You couldn’t respond when he started pounding into you furiously, the way his cock was punching against your soft walls making it a little hard to breathe, never mind thinking. He was hitting every spot you needed him to with each thrust, grunting into your ear each time his hips slammed into you until he felt your breath hitch.

Every time he bottomed out you thought you were going to pass out, the tip of his cock punching against your cervix and making you see stars. It was so good, he was hitting you so deep and smooth you couldn’t believe you’d been denying yourself for so long.

Colin growled when a particularly vicious push had your entire body rising off the floor of the van, your fluttering sigh sending a shiver of pleasure through his body. One more thrust and you lost it, screaming with ecstasy as every muscle in your body vibrated and you squirted all over Colin’s thighs and the floor.

“Fuck, fuck, baby.” Colin was desperate, his rhythm completely gone as he chased his own end while you fluttered around him. “Gonna fill this pretty little pussy up until I’m leaking outta you for the next week.”

“Oh god, please.” Your eyes rolled up in your head while you let him use you, his lips tracing your jaw hungrily as you pushed your hips back to meet his. “Give it to me, Colin.”

He buried his face in your neck and let out a strangled cry when his hips stuttered, thick, warm ropes of white shooting against your soft walls until he was collapsing on top of you with a sated moan. You tangled your fingers with his above your head as your breathing regulated, his breath hot on your neck while the two of you melted into each other.

“We’re not waiting two weeks again, right?” Colin’s arms wrapped around you as he nuzzled into your hair, his lips spreading in a slow smile when he felt you purr contentedly.

“Nope. I’m definitely gonna need this to happen on the regular.” You turned a little so you could rub your nose against his. “You know, in between our other, normal escapades.”

“Right.” His heart fell a little at that, but maybe just interspersing his trysts with you with his other one night stands would help flush his crush on you out of his system.

Before he had a chance to say anything else there was a sudden pounding at the van door, snapping the two of you out of your haze with a pair of exasperated groans.

“Shea!!!” You untangled yourselves as you started to pull on your clothes. “That had better be Y/N in there! If you sad fucked some bachelorette and we have to listen to you sing stupid breakup songs for the next month I’m going to kill you!”

[insomniac-dot-ink]

Headlights Girl

Genre: Urban fantasy + wlw romance

Words: approx. 8k

Summary: The story of a girl with headlamps for eyes and the moth-girl she meets along the way.

My book 🌸 Ko-fi  🌸 Patreon

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

Most humans carry the night with them. Even during daylight hours, they can shut out the sun, turn off the light, recede into themselves and into that soft secret place behind their eyes.

Did you know certain animals don’t have eyelids? Gecko’s have nothing between them and the violent sun which wishes to cook the colors of their world. They have to use their tongue. Dust and sand and rain, can you imagine? I was obsessed with lizards as a kid.

I stacked up books on snakes and lizards and skinks. I traced the way that sand snakes crested across the dunes, sideways and wrong. I put glue on the pads of my hand and tried to climb the walls of my room— I didn’t even get one handhold up. I went to the zoo and peered into their cages, up on my tiptoes, trying not to smudge the glass or breath too hard. I tried make out their triangle heads and slow tongue-flicks, but they each shrank away deep into nooks and crannies of their cages. Most things do when I look at them.

Most humans carry the night with them, right there behind their eyelids is an entire world of darkness. I have something else inside me, not quite, not soft, not secret. They called me “headlights girl” in the newspapers.

There were even stranger kids born in the Age of Spirits. I checked. Every morning of fifth grade, I scanned the papers for mentions of “oddities” growing into anomalies.

A boy who could breath fire. A girl with leaves sprouting from her head. A kid with antennae that could taste the wind. There are stranger things than me in the age of beasts and magic. My father called it the “Epoch of Bastards,” sons and daughters of flickering fire elementals and wind ghosts who seduced half-asleep ladies from their beds.

He didn’t look at me much growing up. And I knew what he meant. I knew what he was getting at by calling it the Epoch of Bastards. Growing up, I played in my little puddle of carpet on the floor as he blustered in and out of rooms like gale force winds. He’d be looking for his keys or a left shoe or wallet since he was going out, out, out. I think I missed him at first, in the way you miss strangers you’ve never met.

Later, still on my puddle of carpet, still on my island, I would glare at him with that sour, acid taste in the back of my throat. Acrid, smoky, I would barely blink as he passed; he’d jump when he turned too quickly and accidentally fell into my path. Later still, I would begin to wish they were both like that—blustery and calling people names, gone more often than not.

It sometimes felt better than hearing my mom weep to herself on the couch. I wish she’d do it in her room or outside or anywhere else than that theatrical sobbing in the middle of the house, a naked heartbeat to the place. She spoke to her friends on the phone in that same watery voice, handkerchief in hand and sniffling, she spoke to them more than me.

What else am I supposed to do? This isn’t how it was supposed to be. She’d wail, just a bit, and then find a new thing to wail over. They could barely afford to send me to That School. They could barely afford the special doctor’s appointments for my eyes. They barely knew what to do with me.

Sometimes, I wanted to shout right back: It’s not like I didn’t want to be here either!

But she wasn’t talking to me. 

School wasn’t much better. We weren’t the same, not really. None of us were the same age or had the same affliction. Plus, most everyone else stayed in dorms where they bonded with secrets and whispers and hiding from matrons. It wasn’t the same.

They called me The Lighthouse and Car Face and Nightlight. Sometimes they’d give me a few bucks to close my eyes so they could see my face. I did it. They’d laugh and reassure me I was as ugly as you’d think. Or beautiful. Or perfectly average-looking or I had a pig-nose or unibrow. I’d never seen anything but the blinding light of my own eyes in the mirror so I could never contradict them.

A boy with antlers handed me a twenty for a kiss in the 6th grade. I closed my eyes for that too. It was chapped and dry and he ran away with a screaming laugh afterward. There are stranger kids than me, I reminded myself. So why do I feel so much stranger than the rest of them?

I was 16 when I heel-toed my way down the stairs toward the front door. A duffel bag slung over my shoulder stuffed with loose clothes, change, a bath towel, three books with broken spines, all the tampons in the house, and a Swiss-army knife.

I hoped to stuff as many cheddar-cheese sandwiches in my sack as possible before the midnight bus came, but he was at the kitchen table. I don’t think either of us expected it, like running into your teacher at the mart and you’re both buying the same brand of toilet cleaner. There was a beer in front of his idle hands and he still wore his rumpled work shirt. He glanced at the bag on my shoulder for a long minute.

Finally, he sighed like I cut him off in traffic.

“Gimme a moment.”

My father leafed through a wad of cash he kept in a safe. He handed me almost three hundred bucks and we nodded at each other. At the time, I thought there was a kind of satisfaction to that nod, an endnote.

I was out the door before the midnight bus arrived.

Only three people were at the terminal. None of them looked at me with my pack and my knife stuffed in one hand and my eyes glowing. They did look at the glow, but not for long.

Remote and empty like maybe the world had ended and the last bits of if were nothing but strangers not making eye contact.

Finally, I watched the headlights of the midnight bus approach through dense summer night. I was struck by the thought that it was like looking at like, the glow of my eyes against its eyes. Can a bus be your father? Can your father be a man after all this time? Will your mother come looking for you?

I got on the bus and kicked my feet up against the seat in front of me. Scrunched into a ball, crossed my arms over my chest, and watched the trees turn into flickering bodies of shadow with each passing mile. ------------- My feet moved like tides. They tossed me against nameless city streets and toward empty forested slices of land. I stumbled into the painted deserts toward the west. I dipped my toes into the neon districts of the east with lights brighter than my own. I slept on benches and in kid’s treehouses and hunched my shoulders against brick walls of back alleys.

No one touched me. Maybe they’d approach now and then, but I’d open my eyes and they’d see nothing but heaven or devils or an absent lightning-God father that would smite them. I was the daughter of spirits after all.

I found my way to the ocean; beaches where other stragglers gathered and it was easy to stretch out on empty pieces of warm sand. I didn’t talk much by then, I didn’t like to; people stared whether I was speaking or screaming and clamping down on my jaw so hard it ached. Sometimes I get yelled at: Turn that off! No phone lights in here. You’re blinding me, bitch!

I’d never seen a movie in any theatres, but I could imagine what it’s like.

It was crowded, but I liked that ocean city, despite myself. It had pale buildings built into cliffs, narrow winding sidewalks where cars couldn’t fit, reckless bikers, and crushed seashell parking lots. I liked the tang of salt in the air and the way my hair crinkled from the ocean water as it sun-dried. I camp out on beaches and bummed cigarettes and hotdogs off strangers. I was good at taking care of myself once I got into a rhythm.

I had a tent by then and even an enormous sun umbrella to keep any prying eyes away. I still liked to sleep under the stars most nights though.

I often dreamed of sinking to the bottom of the ocean. I dreamed of descending on pointed ballerina-feet to the silted black bottom. I’d be weighted down through the cold and the silence to where no human being had ever been. I’d open my eyes there, open them all the way, lightning-bright, and unflinching. In my dreams, the salt didn’t even sting. I lit up the world, the whole untouched world of whales and fish and terror and maybe I’d do something good then. Maybe I’d do something good and bring the sun to places that had forgotten it. 

I hated those dreams.

I met Mags on the beach after one of those dreams. Mags had one eye and twelve teeth and carried around nothing but string and scissors everywhere. She smelled like seawater and burning kelp, dank and crusted over. Her clothes were neat despite her leather-cracked skin and arms and neck covered in tattoos of shipwrecks. We ran into each other at some bum gathering and she cackled and pulled me aside.

“What’s your name?” Her voice was old creaking wood. I didn’t answer. “I could give you one.” She offered with a grin that was more empty space than anything.

“Nana.” I gritted out. “You want something?”

“Not sure. What do you want, kid?”

I glared openly, my beam of light slanting. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come here.”

I didn’t know why I was chosen.

Mags liked me more than I deserved. I pocketed her last pair of socks when she wasn’t looking. She never mentioned it and dragged me down to the community showers to get clean with soap and shampoo. She took me to the soup and salad restaurant for something that wasn’t burnt or freeze-dried or from a convenience store. She cackled, she spat when she talked, people shot her looks as well.

I thought she was normal, not touched by the spirits, but she liked me more than most people and I didn’t know why.

“You like art, kid?”

I snorted. “No.”

“Why not? You broken?” Yeah. Probably.

“How am I supposed to know?” I snapped back.

“Lippy squirt. Come on, I’ll show you something worth your forked tongue.”

She heated the needle before she used it, red hot and untouchable. She dipped it into deep black inks, only black and sometimes red, she called them the only colors that matter. She shows me how to prick the skin and clean it. She showed me how to slowly, painstakingly etch images. I wasn’t sure I liked it, there was something so permanent and intentional about the act.

I watched her lessons though: stick and poke to her right foot, all over those fine little bones that must hurt, in and out, a little bloody.

It took her six hours to make a tiny shipwreck right above her big toe. It was a narrow schooner going under and I was the only witness. She made the waves come to life and crash against its sides and sometimes I forgot to blink. She didn’t seem to mind.

She washed another needle. She heated it red-hot. She dipped it in ink and handed it to me.

I still wasn’t sure I liked the permanence of it, but I told myself I was bored and it was something to do. I decided quickly I did like the bite of it, I liked the focus it took, and the ability to pull something from nothing.

I practiced all over my thighs first, there was enough meat there and it was easy enough to reach: a lizard design that looked like nothing but squiggles, a TV set playing static, a tiny smudged skink with its tongue out. I practiced designs in the sand and then on paper when Mags splurged on pen and paper.

Mags took me to the museum on Sundays. They were always free on Sundays.

Something stirred in my chest, even as the guards yelled at us about how flash photography wasn’t allowed in the museum. Even as I was shooed out of exhibits for ruining the paint. Still, an ache so old it rotted roared to life in my chest.

I stabbed in and out, gentle, a collection of stars right above my right knee. A winding sand snake on my wrist, and then finally, something good, something that gave people pause and reason to stare. I made it in the mirror: a ghost on my collarbone. Shadowed and intricate and yet simple, I put a ghost right above my collarbone and it bleeds more than any of the others.

That was a good year or so; one of the best I could remember.

I didn’t want to leave the ocean city though and Mags said she had to keep moving. She had places to be. She gave me a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

“You're a gem, kid. You’ll knock ‘em all to the pavement.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “You’ll be back?”

She cackled. “Wouldn’t miss it. You know me.” She winked as she turns to the bus, my second father. “You think I’ll miss your great becoming, kid? I’ll be back.”

I wanted to make her pinky-promise like I was a kid again begging one of the others to tell me if I’m beautiful when I close my eyes. I couldn’t do that; I waved as she tottered up the steps of the bus and was taken away with the tides of her own feet.

A had a moment of thinking it was the end then; I was ready to get back to my real normal. I was ready to disappear again. But even shipwrecks with no witnesses leave things left to be found.

------------ I got an apprenticeship. Technically, Mags talked them into it and I just followed up when I had nothing better to do.

I didn’t think I’d like it much, but couch surfing and camping out was the pastime of the especially young. And I’d lost my giant umbrella.

It was a small shop that smelled like bleach and dried flowers. A tattoo parlor in one of the steep arts districts neighbored by food trucks and beaded necklace shops.

Penguin Davies and Bitch-Annie ran it together. Davies walked like he’d never encountered land before, and Bitch-Annie had a throw-pillow embroidered with “If you don’t have anything nice to say then come sit next to me.”

Davies was covered in nothing but birds and dizzying M. C. Escher house-designs up and down his chest and arms. Bitch-Annie had topless mermaids and pinup girls across her shoulders and legs. She’d been asked to leave a number of stores before the children started staring or thinking thoughts.

Neither of them had ever met someone like me. It was not that type of town. I rankled at most their questions, a cat meeting a steel brush. Where are you from? What’s your family name? What kind of school did you go to? Is your sight better than other people you think?

I brushed off anything more personal than my favorite type of soda. Bitch-Annie called me “Shadow” probably as a joke, probably. Davies said I must be possessed by the ghost of some dead star: a blackhole that takes everything in and lets nothing out.

Neither of them let me touch a needle in those first six months. They had me practice on pig skin and trace designs and stand by their shoulders as they worked. I felt like a dental assistant except I was the hanging light shining into open mouths instead of anything with a pulse. I stood at their shoulder as they drew thick lines and thin dots and made hearts and wolves and names of dead lovers come to life.

They asked me to stand still and stop wiggling the light. I almost walked out several to find a new cliff to crash against, almost. 

No one had ever expected anything of me before. They never expected me to show up somewhere or do something well. No one really cared if I went to school or if I did my homework, if I dressed well or went to bed on time. And no one kept any tabs on me at all after I took that first bus. That’s how I liked it.

I should’ve left, tattooing didn’t mean anything to me, not really. But Bitch-Annie stomped up to my attic-apartment one morning and threw pants at me.

“Get up, Shadow,” she barked. She was sterner than Mags, no hint of humor in her eyes. “I told you 9am so I expect 9am.”

“The fuck!?” I was eloquent in the mornings.

“Pants, shirt, shoes, and bra if you don’t want that desk idiot staring at something other than your eyes all day.”

“Are you serious?”

“Serious as a root canal. Mags swore up and down about what you. Let’s see some of that, up, up!”

I grumbled. I put on everything but the bra. No one ever expected me to be anywhere before and 9am shouldn’t have even been a concept much less a real thing. I told myself I hated it. I’d leave the next week. Or maybe the week after that or in just one more month. I kept a bus ticket under my pillow but every time the date arrived I shrugged and made myself busy.

There’d be no harm in having a savings too and seeing what all the fuss was about with having a dishwasher and a kitchen.

I wasn’t an artist of course. I didn’t understand what everyone else was seeing when they looked at the “old masters” paintings of water or war or lovers pulled apart. I didn’t feel anything in front of stain-glass windows in churches or mosaics on walls. Maybe there really was something wrong with me, my eyes. I didn’t let up though. I put on pants for it after all.

Penguin Davies hovered by my shoulder when I made my first real design.

“Mm.” He rumbled deep in his chest. He’d gone grey at an early age, had tired eyes and quick hands. The desk kid said he’d been in medical school once, a surgeon. It was hard to tell. Davies muttered a lot, stared off into space too much, and laughed like it was always a painful surprise

“Perfectionist,” he muttered at me as I start over on a crappy unicorn design. “That line was barely off. You’re being a perfectionist, Nana.”

I scowled over my shoulder and let the full weight of my light hit him across the face. “Got a problem with it?” I challenged. He chuckled darkly. His grin was crooked like a broken door handle. I tried to hide my work from him with my shoulder. “It’s not done yet.”

“It’s late.” The rest of the street was dark. I knew that.

“I said I’m not done yet! You can go home.”

“Hmm.” He scratched his grey beard.

“What?”

“Look at you. You know who makes the best artists, Nana?” He was always a bit of a philosopher. Maybe he used to study that before medicine.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up. I’m working on it.”

He gave my shoulder a light push. “The ones that don’t quit.”

They let me touch a needle gun after that. I told myself I’d only sign my new apartment lease as an experiment. I didn’t have to actually stay. I’d just run from the ink on paper and hope no one chased after girls with eyes that glow.

I didn’t break my lease. I drew suns and moons, trees and fireflies, hunks in speedos on tipsy college girls who swore they were sober and erotic vampires on the chests of men getting their first divorce. I had to give two refunds for a duck that turned out lopsided and a tattoo of someone’s dog which I swore really was that ugly to begin with.

There was one at the end of that next year though, another college girl with perfectly white piano-key teeth. She asked for a stick and poke, that was what I was best at anyway, she asked for a butterfly. Butterflies were easy, I could do the little ones in my sleep. She wanted one all across her back, she said I could make it look however I wanted. So I did. Wings like fringed shawls and straight heavy lines combined with wispy swirling ones. It was dark, black ink with red highlights and gray shadows under each wing to give it movement and flight.

I hid my smile when I finished and showed her the results in the mirror. She went to my bosses and jumped up and down. She pointed and babbled, ohmyspirits, the best thing I’ve ever seen! Fuck. I should pay you double! Where did you get this girl? 

I held myself perfectly still and studied the ceiling until my eyes dried out.

I took the long way home that night. I stopped once, at the corner where the midnight bus arrived, and watched the the passengers trudge off. I didn’t expect to see Mags again so soon, not really, but sometimes I wanted to show her: Hey, maybe your work wasn’t all wasted. Maybe I did start to become.

---------------- “I’m getting you chocolate.” Annie spat, her thick arms flexing as she cleaned off the spotless counter. “I’m getting you fucking chocolate, Shadow, ‘less you tell me what flavor you actually like.”

I hung at the back of the shop next to the narrow window that faced the road. I let the sun warm my face in thick strips and watched the bicycles pass. “It’s not my birthday.”

“Tell us what your actual birthday is then, you sugar-toasted tart.”

I shrugged. “Not today.”

“Well happy fucking birthday. You’re turning two. You came to work for us two years ago today, washed up from the beach like a deranged feral cat, so this is your birthday now.”

I rolled my eyes which served to look like a flashlight given a shake. Annie spent another minute splashing disinfectant on anything that might have had even a passing conversation with a germ.

“You talk to Birdie?” She asked, but mischievously this time. I responded by setting my mouth in a hard line. “You’re turning twenty-something and you’re not even talking to Birdie, are ya?”

“I’m not telling you what I’m turning. It’s still not my birthday.” I dodged inelegantly.

“Birdie will give you a proper go-around. Even shadows like you must need a little rub now and then.”

“Go dunk your head, Annie.” I huffed.

“Afraid you’ll blind her in bed?”

I turned with a snarl. “I’ll start with you.”

“I’ve seen you flipping through those poetry books, every word about hands or mouths or rosebuds.” She gave me flat a once-over. “You’ve got a sweet tooth in you.”

I dragged myself over to the desk to snarl at her some more, but Annie was already putting her hand up and going toward the backroom.

“I’m getting you a chocolate cake either way.”

There must have been a proper way to get her to never look at my little leather poetry books again, the ones with watermarked pages, the spines broken-in, and words that oozed. No one had to know that I could read, much less that I read that.

The door dinged instead.

“Excuse me.” She walked in. Her. “Is someone, um, named Nana here?” I turned before I could stop myself. That was still my name. And it was still my work.

Twenty-something, curtains of straight black hair falling in her face, pinched nose, thin energetic lips, shorts that gave way to milk-dipped legs that never seemed to end. A slight girl in a university t-shirt. College kids came in often during their breaks, but this one was a bit different. My eyes dragged up and fish-hooked there.

Feathered tendrils sprouted from her head and reached toward the ceiling. Long and searching, a pearly green color that reminded you of leaves or plumage.

I knew within a moment where I’d heard of this: Antennae Girl. The newspapers ran our stories close together along with the boy that breathed fire and the girl with roots growing from her head. We were all born in the same year during the epoch of monsters and bastards.

I think she recognized me too.

We stopped like heartbeats seizing up before the ambulance could make it. A confused, unnatural silence. I glanced at the door and considered making a run for it.

She cleared her throat first.

“Someone said that Misty’s butterfly tattoo came from here?” She blinked once and I noticed how her feathered antennae seemed to twitch. I averted my eyes so I wouldn’t blind her. She took a step forward. “So are you . . . Nana?”

The door was right there.

“What do you want?” I had been spending too much time with Bitch-Annie.

“A tattoo?”

“What kind?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Then why are you here?” I grunted. Footsteps came in from the back room. I was examining the smudged off-white tiles of the floor one by one.

“I wanted to . . . hey, you can look up if you want.” She said, curiously, softly. I didn’t look up. “I’m still figuring out the design.” She trudged on ahead.

“Fine.” I pivoted away. “But we’re busy. Come back later.”

A hand slapped across my shoulder. “This is Nana.” Annie stopped me from leaving. “Don’t let her eyes fool ya, it’s her personality that’s actually the problem. You saw her butterfly you said?”

“Yes!” She gushed. “It was gorgeous.”

“It was fine,” I corrected.

“It’s her birthday today.” Annie shared because she could and because she was a failed evil villain still trying to get her kicks in.

“Oh cool, happy Birthday.” A deep pause followed that could fill oceans. “You can look up. I don’t mind.” She repeated.

I opened my eyes wide and lifted my chin in one jerky motion. A beam of fluorescent headlights hit her across the face. “Is this what you want?” Venom dripped from my lips. This was why I tried not to talk too much.

The young woman squinted for a moment before covering her eyes and nodding. “I read about you,” she stated as if it was nothing. “I’m turning twenty-two this year . . . so I guess, you are too?”

“What?!” Delight filled Annie’s entire expression. “Hot damn! Twenty-two?” I groaned deeply. “Hey, you, girlie,” she addressed antennae-girl, “you want to come out for drinks tonight?”

I tried to protest as quickly as possible, but somehow didn’t summon the words quickly enough.

“Sure.” She agreed. ----------------------

The night was humid and clung to us like a second skin. I wandered through the hilly streets with Penguin Davies wobbling beside me. The desk kid—Daft Jeff, said Davies had some inner-ear problem that made it hard for him to keep his balance. Annie said he just didn’t belong on land— he couldn’t walk straight unless something was tilting and rolling under his feet.

Davies made his way up the hill, faltering and missing the musical beats of it. He refused to let me steady him and I refused to have him sing to me. It was apparently my birthday.

“Someone saw your design.” He noted on the downhill.

“Yeah. Some college girl.” I grumbled.

“What’d you think?” He asked in his usual mysterious way.

“She just wants a good look.” I returned in a neutral tone. “She read about me in the paper. All she wants to do is look.”

“She saw your design.” He paused. “And Jeff said she was like you.”

I blinked hard so the path ahead was eaten by shadow and Davies stumbled. “Not all of us have to be friends . . .” I said sourly and didn’t fill in the rest. “I’ve met kids with antlers and frog-hands before. I doesn’t mean anything.”

“Any of them come visit?”

“They’re smart enough not to.” I snark. “But the ones who manage to be pretty don’t have the brains to stay away.”

“Mm.” He made a soft sound. “What kind of tattoo do you think she’ll get?”

“How should I know? A heart or anchor or something dumb like that.” I walked on ahead. “Maybe I’ll give her a quote from some dead poet.”

“You like poetry.”

I huff dramatically, “Not what I mean. Girls like her don’t like my type of poetry, you know I’m saying.”

“What kind of girls?” Davies was patient. I hated that about him.

I stopped at the corner to let him catch up. “Don’t play dumb. Hot ones, college ones, getting a degree in money or music. They don’t watch over their shoulders enough or know when to stay away.” I scuffed my shoe on the ground. “Whatever.”

Davies was still thinking. I considered pushing him over. He finally spoke up again as we approach the bar, “That sea witch ever show up again?”

“Mags?” I snorted. “No. Why?”

“Cause I’m sure she’d like to see this.”

I didn’t say anything else as we reached the doorway. -------------------- The bar was loud. More people than I liked came to my “party.” I should have seen it coming. If the cliff city liked one thing it was an excuse to drink.

I crammed myself up against the bar and ordered a gin and tonic before the rest of the night crowd could arrive. Birdy was holding court at a corner table and waving at me. “There she is! Someone put a blanket over Nana, lights out, party up!”

Her puns usually left something to be desired. She sang “Blinded by the Light” every time she saw me for half a year.

I drank half my gin and tonic in the first gulp as a new stream of townies burst in. They arrived to buy me birthday beers and shout their opinions on the shitty new chain restaurant on 3rd street. I was almost tasting the bottom of my second glass when someone tapped on my shoulder.

I barely looked over.

The girl with sheets of black hair and a practiced-appearance stood before me—like she was at dress rehearsal and expected everyone else to know the lines as well. She carried a baby-blue bike helmet in one hand, and I noted there were two hand-drilled holes in the top.

“You.” I was tempted to shake her hand like I might make this a transactional hello and goodbye in short order.

“Hey.” She smiled, hesitant, like maybe the food on the fork might be too hot. “Nana, right?”

“Yep.” I sighed the word real long and heavy. “Listen, I really can’t give you a tattoo if you don’t know what you want.”

“No, no, I get it. But I want you to know . . . I didn’t know it was you.”

“Uh, okay. Though I’m pretty hard to miss over here.” I was looking at the dirty wine bottles stacked near the ceiling. Her antennae hang over both of us like fern fronds.

“No. I mean, when I saw the butterfly. That’s when I wanted to come here. Not after.”

“After what?” I was gonna make her say it.

“After I found that it was, well, you know, Headlights Girl.”

“Mm.” I was spending too much time with Davies. “You want something to drink?”

She sighed as well, real long and heavy. “Sure.” She took the seat next to me. “I’m Park by the way.”

“Park.” I rolled the name around in my mouth. “And you already know me.”

“I don’t think I do.” She laughed, sharp and bristly like something you can get cut on. “And I’ll have a beer. . . but only once you look up. Come on, I’m not like that.” I looked up. Her face was bright, round like the moon, her grin was sneaky and unearned. “There we go.”

She waved over the bartender Kipp and ordered her dark beer.

“It’s not really my birthday.” I informed her, dumbly. Every word felt dumb and clumsy all at once.

“Why not?” She was teasing. I knew that.

“That’s not how birthdays work.” I informed and wished I could backtrack into hostility again.

“Oh darn,” she winked. “And here I was about to make it my birthday too.”

“Uh, well,” I really should have left when I had the chance. “It’s not too late?”

“That’s the spirit!” She laughed, fuller this time and rounded. I looked her straight in the face and then quickly looked away again. Her grin was aimed at me, somehow, and seemed to reach high cupboards inside me you usually needed a stool for.

“Park,” I repeated the name and shifted in place. “So did you go to Haveryards or Simmons?” There were only two schools in the country for spirit bastards like us. Haveryards was close enough for me to get bussed to—an hour one way and then an hour home.

“Neither. I went to public and then Bakerville Uni.” She rapped on the counter. “Hey, you want another gin and tonic? Or I’ll mix you up something.” Her eyes flickered over everything. “I bartended my way through college so I can make a mean margarita.”

“Oh, Bakerville U., yeah. That ones close.” I stuttered a bit. She was leaning across the counter and trying to get Kipp’s attention a second time. My words were feeling dumber and dumber by the moment, perhaps losing all shape and meaning altogether. “That’s where you went?”

“How’d you guess?” She said playfully and pointed to her t-shirt. She finally got the bartender over. “Right, you want something hard? Vodka maybe? A mule?”

I scratched my chin. “ . . . I don’t care. I’m easy.”

She rolled her eyes and I knew she must feel me staring. “I can’t imagine shopping for you for today then.” She snickered and climbed over the counter. “Happy birthday, how about one chocolate mule for a free tattoo?”

“You wish.” I made a face. “You don’t even know what you want.”

“And you do?” She was still grinning, somehow. “I’ve decided I’m making you the equivalent of all the soda flavors mixed together at once. Close your eyes.”

I closed my eyes and I tried to turn off my thoughts. It was bright as knives inside my skull; I carry the daytime with me. Panic threatened to rise up (for no reason of course), but a soft hand brushed against mine, soft like sheets in fancy hotels and flower petals. I peaked and Park slid a full murky glass toward me.

“Drink up.”

It was sweet. It wasn’t even my birthday. I didn’t care. She called it a chocolate-mule-Park Special and maybe chocolate really was my favorite flavor. -------------- Park started coming around. She rode a sky-blue bike with a white basket and rusting hinges. I couldn’t imagine doing all the hills in the city without any gears, but she managed. She said she was figuring things out after graduating. She said she liked it here.

I grumbled when she came by. I complained like Annie when Wicker the cat visited: Get that thing away from me. I hate that. Smells awful. I’ve got allergies. Put that away, it’ll kill me.

I never said anything when Annie left fish heads out and bowls of milk of course.

Park smelled like sunscreen and breath mints. She had strong opinions on everything from street paving techniques to which sun hats went with which dresses. She invited me on walks. She invited me to help her change a flat tire. She invited me to the corner shop to help her pick out bottle can openers.

I said no. Sometimes I said no. I started to say yes.

“Look at this,” she liked to show me things. She liked to show me pictures of squirrels on her phone and weird pieces of glass she found. She liked to point out new restaurants (that I’d already been to) and play videos of funny traffic jams.

This time she held up a seashell. It was rounded and flat with a swirl in the center.

“I’m looking.” I said carefully.

“Watch how it catches light.” I shun my eyes on it and she moved it back and forth. There were bits of silver veins caught in the cracks of it.

“There’s tons of those.” At this point, I had valiantly refused to be impressed by even her cutest squirrel pictures.

“Ugh.” She pouted. “Are you kidding? I spent all morning looking for this.”

“They're right by the surf. I could find you five bigger ones than this before sunset.”

“Alright, hot-shot.” She jut her chin out and jabbed my shoulder. “Prove it.”

I said yes to that one. I left right after my shift ended with the sun setting in the waters like a stabbed orange bleeding out. I met Park by the parking lot with drooping palms trees lining the sides and lost flipflops everywhere.

“This is where you went wrong.” I announced. I couldn’t help it. “This is the tourist beach. You have to go somewhere real.”

“Alright, alright. You’ve already established you’re the hot-shot here. Lead the way.”

She followed me. I ignored how she lingered by my side. I ignored how her hand wrapped around my arm as she stopped us to look at a tiny horseshoe crab. Her hand was soft, like velvet, soft enough to smother something in my chest.

I found two seashells with streaks of silver and rainbow through them, both bigger than my palm. The sun was a flat line on the horizon before I could find a third and Park hooted.

“You said before sunset! It’s sunset, baby, pay up.” She called. “And you were so sure you were a better seashell hunter than me.” She tsked.

I scanned the ground more quickly. “It’s barely nighttime.” I pointed to the sky. “And I can keep looking. I have the built-in equipment for it.”

“Oh I know.” She planted herself on the soggy crusted sand and sat down in a heap. “But can you find why kids love the taste of not doing that? Take it easy. Take a seat.”

“So pushy.”

“You know me.” It was fond. It had only been a few months, but there was something fond there.

I ran a hand through my short choppy curls. “Fine.” I sat next to her, not too close. “It’s your loss.” We both looked out at the gently lapping waves, foaming and anemic. She let a long breath of air and for a moment I considered brushing her hair back. It was always in her face.

It was a quiet moment, bottled, and pitching toward something. Like the the moment where you miss a step on the stairs and the certainty of the fall was right there.

I was the one that scooted a little closer.

“I’m considering getting a storm cloud,” she commented off-handedly. “Can you do storm clouds?”

I made a sound of consideration. “Sure.” I glanced toward the opposite corner of the night sky. “I think I’ve seen one of those before. Big puffy wet things?”

“Kinda fluffy? You’re getting there.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” I’m smiling, which is alright since there’s no way she could see it. She’s silent for another moment longer.

“Or would you make fun of me if I got something like a butterfly? Like your other one.”

“A storm cloud butterfly?”

“No. The cloud would it’s own thing.” She chewed on her bottom lip, ragged and chapped. “I mean, I’ve been doodling some ideas. And tattoos should be personal, right? So I thought a storm cloud might be fitting. Kids used to pay me a couple dollars to predict the weather. It could be a memorial to childhood entrepreneurial spirit.”

I watched her speak and something beat inside my chest like a second animal. I wanted to be closer. I wanted to feel velvet again.

“Why?” I rasped after a moment.

“Uh, why did they pay me? It’s just something I can do. Whenever it's going to rain or storm or be sunny out. I dunno, I don’t know why the rest of you can’t sense it.”

“And you didn’t become a meteorologist?” I smiled a bit bitterly.

She made an indignant noise. “And you didn’t become a professional lighthouse?”

I choked on a laugh. “Not yet.” A quiet consumed us from both sides, I made sure my light didn’t crash into her. I made sure to look at anything but her. She’d have to squint if I did and cover her eyes and I’d be there, ready to run her over.

“Kids in my class paid me too.” I barely realized I started speaking. “They slipped me a couple bucks to close my eyes so they could see my face.”

“You got money for that?”

“There wasn’t always much to do. Teachers were quitting all the time and sometimes it was just the TV. I dunno, they paid me. Then they’d giggle and run away afterward.” My voice sounded automated like the announcer at an airport, informing travelers their flight was canceled. “They always said I had a pig nose or a unibrow or looked like the lead singer of that Minx girl band-- super hot, but you know, it didn’t matter.” The laugh that escaped was high, girlish in a grotesque way. “Since, you know, no one would ever see it.”

“Kids are fucked up.” Park contributed simply.

“Adults are too.” I sniffed. “Everyone wants a light show.”

“Oh.” She said slowly. “Is it . . . is it bad I wanted to meet you then? I mean, I wanted to see the art first, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a factor.”

“No.” I said quickly. I lit up my own lap and empty hands. “Does it matter?”

“I never went to those schools,” she said hesitantly. “My parents fought them, said the schools were unfit. They shouldn’t be able to force us there. And that I wasn’t even dangerous since,” she gestured helplessly upward, “I just have these. So then, well, I never really met anyone else like me.”

“I mean, everyone’s different. It’s not . . . a big deal.”

“You’d think so,” she commented sardonically.

I folded up into myself like a complex origami piece. “Yeah, well, sometimes I wish I was dangerous. Actually dangerous.”

She giggled. “Didn’t you just say everyone’s different? I’d say everyone’s dangerous too. Just gotta find the niche.”

“Oh yeah,” I dared to turn toward her. “What’s yours then?”

“My danger niche? Hmm.” She was leaning now, pitching forward like a wave come to drown me. “I do have a few tricks up my sleeve I’ll admit.”

“You have a pair of wings hidden away?” I stopped breathing as her hand lifted up, strange and all at once. I wasn’t ready.

“Here.” Her skin was against mine. She cupped my cheek with one velvet-hand. It was heated cashmere, tiny feather-light hairs on her palm. “Feelers.” She whispered with a hesitancy there.

“Ah,” I was indulgent. I closed my eyes. I leaned in. “And you want to put a needle over these?” I put my hand over hers, loosely, so she could pull away if she wanted to. Tiny hairs pulsed there with some kind of life all their own. 

“I wanted . . .” She paused and I peaked open my eyes. I could see every detail of her face, illuminated. “I dunno.” She finished. “I guess I just wanted whatever I saw there, before.”

“In the butterfly?”

“In the butterfly.” I turned toward the ocean, but my hand remained over hers. “I’m not sure how good it will be a second time. It’s not like I’m really an artist. . .”

“What did you want to be?” Soft.

“Who knows. I mean, I’m glad my parents didn’t try to fight the schools. Being there during the day was better than being home, listening to my mom crying all the time and my father exploding . . . They wouldn’t have wanted me home.”

Before the sunset, when I was walking over, I thought maybe we’d kiss that night. I thought I’d feel that first electric pulse and maybe we’d climb into the ocean and swim in circles, laugh until the moon rose. I thought maybe I’d get something out of my system and there wouldn’t be anything left to say or do.

I’d kiss Park, once, and she’d be satisfied. She’d understand. She’d go on her college path and I’d go on on mine.

But the words spilled out, unbidden. Park stayed in place, steady and unflinching. That made it worse, so much worse.

“My parents weren’t like yours.” There was an accusatory edge to it. Don’t you know? I wanted to shout. Don’t you know? Even without the eyes or the school bills or the bus.

“Hey,” she cradled my cheeks with both hands now and smeared the tears away from one eye. “Hey, listen, I know. Alright? I know.”

I scowled back at her feathered little feelers.

“It’s not about the damn antenna or head beams or anything else.” I tried to pull away. “Even the kid with the antler’s kissed me and I didn’t stop him. I ran away from home and my mom never came looking. It didn’t matter. It doesn’t matter! You wouldn’t even get it. You wouldn’t get it!” I squeeze my eyes closed. “You were wanted.”

Slowly, like an awkward animal burrowing into soft earth, she pressed her forehead to the crook of my neck. I could feel us both breathing in, strong and steady. She was lean and silky, and I swore I can feel her heartbeat hammering through my throat.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered. I inhaled her sunscreen scent. “I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know. But I could.”

“Why are you here?” It was miserable and wet, I hated that my eyes were so different and yet still the same. Could still spill over like theirs. She took a long breath but didn’t move away.

“My last girlfriend broke up with me for being . . . sensitive and I thought maybe if I got a tattoo, I’d stop feeling so much. I’d prove something. I’d feel everything less, you know? It would hurt and then it wouldn’t.”

I took that in a parsec at time. “Are you,” I sniffed. “Are you alright?” Her legs and arms were plastered over mine. “You’re so soft, but, but I don’t want to,” I wipe at my face like it didn’t matter. “Hurt you.”

“I know.” Her face was still pressed to my neck and her lips fluttered across the hallow of my skin. “I didn’t want to hurt you either.”

A stillness settled into my bones. I glanced toward the moon, and it was like looking at like, a terrible moon to another moon. I gathered myself. I took a deep breath. I flattened.

“I shouldn’t have said all that.” My voice had dried up. “We led different lives.” It wasn’t her fault if she was wanted.

“No.”

“I wasn’t thinking . . .”

Her hand wrapped around my wrist. “I talk to Annie sometimes when you aren’t there.”

“Okay?”

“And Davies. And that front desk guy.”

“Daft Jeff. Yes.”

“They all say the same thing . . .” I blinked a couple times. “That I really should wait for you to give me the tattoo. You have a steady hand and an eye for detail.”

“Alright . . .”

“That someone taught you tattooing the right way. They wanted to show you the right way to do it.”

I snorted despite myself. “It’s not that hard. Mags was batty. Who knows why she showed me how to pick up a needle.”

“Don’t you see? They say they wouldn’t know what to do without you.” She was still there. She wasn’t moving, almost in my lap now. “You were wanted.”

“Park?” My voice cracked like a question.

“And you come with me to restaurants and help me buy bottle openers. You find shells for me and help me fix tires.” Her breath was hot and dragged across my cheek. “You are wanted.”

I blocked out her face, her voice, I turned on the sharp white sun inside and for a moment I imagine never opening my eyes back up again. Maybe I could make it night forever inside myself as well. Wouldn’t you rather have something quiet inside?

She wrapped herself around me, fully, one long arm at a time until it was cocoon. Soft. “Listen, sometimes the first people aren’t the right people. Sometimes your first relationship isn’t the right relationship. Sometimes you’re sure the world is one way, and like, always one way . . . and then it rains and the whole world is different again. You know? People pass.”

“My parents aren’t the weather.”

“But they’ll pass.” I should have pushed her off. But even against that, even those words— I liked being held, indulgent as chocolate and twice as guilty. “People sometimes feel forever, especially those kinds of people.” I was off again. “But it rains. And hey, I always know when it’s going to rain.”

I hiccupped; a smile found its way uninvited onto my face, unsure and just wobbly on its feet as Davies. I glanced down after a deep breath. Park grinned back at me and it reached the highest shelves of me all over again.

“So what happens when it rains again? Do you people like you pass?”

“Nah, not me. I don’t know how.” She winked. I didn’t notice that we’re lying flat now, stars and carpet of black above. “You can’t get rid of me. You haven’t given me that tattoo yet.”

The sound of shushing waves filled the midnight air and the moon looked down like that very first bus arriving to get me all those years ago. I wrapped my arms right back around her. She didn’t seem to mind that I was sticky or strange or sometimes kept tearing up all over again even after we’d stop saying anything worth tearing up over. ------------------

It happened. I felt like I should have been more prepared, brought flowers or poetry or earned it through honored warfare. But it happened. I was wearing ripped jeans, a spotty t-shirt and my breath smelled like coffee. We were looking for Park’s lost earring along an overgrown hill she usually biked along.

I found it, one shiny red dewdrop in all that green. Park pointed at some clouds that looked like my last “abstract” tattoo. We lay back in the grass and let the sky pass overhead. She giggled and touched my wrist, side by side. I let her.

“Summer’s almost over.” I mumbled it first.

“Yeah?”

“You find your next step then, college girl?” I tried to keep my tone light. She turned to be on her side.

“Maybe.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Oh, you know. This and that.”

“That does not sound like a college-girl plan.”

“Maybe I’ve got other plans. Maybe I’ve got other priorities, huh?”

“Ridiculous.” A playfully push her shoulder. “A lousy seaside town really isn’t priority material. There’s only one bookshop you know.”

“Two thank you very much. And that’s not my priority either.” Her voice wavered.

“Are you going to share with the class?”

“Is the class ready?” She whispered and I turned toward her as well now, taking in her perfect round face and question-mark mouth.

“I have been.” I matched her whisper. I tremor from my center outward and hopes she can’t tell.

“Do you know what they say about moths?”

“What?” I gave a breathy laugh. It wasn’t what I was expecting. “I’ve heard of them.”

“They tell your fortune.” She was grinning in that way that put out a stool and reached up. “I used to cry a lot growing up, because some kids said that moths are just evil butterflies. I was sensitive and ran all the way home. I threw myself at my mom’s feet and threw a fit about how moths were just evil butterflies. They were just ugly, wicked versions of a good thing.”

“Evil? Well, I suppose you are rather sinister when you haven’t eaten.”

“Shut up. I’m telling you something.” She put a hand on my shoulder. I inhaled deeply and turned over in place to face her. Only the shallow breeze kept us apart.

“I’m all ears . . . though maybe not as many as you.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“What can I say? The sun is adorable. I take after him.”

A finger ghosted over my cheek, tracing the arc of my cheekbone. “Well, you’re not so bad behind those headlights too. Some of us have good day vision you know. And good taste.”

I wished those words didn’t make my chest do funny things. “Thanks.”

“Do you want to hear what my mom said or not?”

“That you shouldn’t worry about evil butterflies?” I wiggled closer. “Because you’ll be really hot and funny and smart one day. So who cares if you’re evil?”

“Yeah, those were her exact words.”

“So?”

“So,” a firm hand took my chin. “Look at me.” I looked at her. I was glad she couldn’t see the flush in my cheeks in any way. “Moths show good fortunes she said.”

“Right. Lots and lots of good fortune.” I breathed, dumbly, of course. She was close and sweet and there was hair in her face. The fronds of her antennae tickle right past my ear.

“They can help you find good fortune. They’re good omens. You know why?” Park’s lips were barely moving as she spoke, hypnotic and unhurried.

“Why?”

“Because they follow the light.”

It happened all at once. Like every cheesy love poem or bad lyrics I wrote in my journals at night. It was every cracked-spine of a book using words like “rosebud lips” and every overdone song about people who find their way to each other.

I kissed her, leaning in with no life vest on or readied crash-landing position. She kissed me and my chest filled with her, breathless, drowning, soft as dreams and stranger than hope. I cradled her and she dragged me closer and closer until it was nothing but floods and brimming.

I’d been nothing before I think, I’d been an island that waits, a bus that leaves, a shadow that hides. And then I had been hers. ----------------- I was strolling home from work along the main road. The thin strip of sidewalk was streaked with bleached sunlight and the salt air was thick enough to burn throats. It was the long way home, but I was in the habit of going back to this corner.

The bus pulled up with little ceremony. It was an interstate one that crisscrossed over empty bellies of land. I stopped in place to watch, just in case, as I had many times before.

A silver head bobbed down the steps and planted herself on the concrete, unbelieving. She took an enormous noisy sniff of the air. “Not so bad!” She bellowed.

“Are you?” That wasn’t meant to be my first word. She was more stooped now and wearing shiny things on her wrist that clanked. She’d lost another tooth. “Mags.”

“Eh!” She yelled and waved frantically as if I hadn’t shot up another inch since I last saw her and started wearing clothes without holes in them. Her eyes sparkled as she tottered over. “So how’d you do, kid?”

“See for yourself.” I smiled. It was nice when the tides came back in. Mags gave me a thorough appraising. “Like this I guess.” I held up my hand. I wiggled my ring finger at her, heavy with a silver band and glittering opal.

“That’s my girl! Always knew you’d find your feet.” She cackled. “Am I too late to give you away, kid?”

I shook my head. She waddled over to me so I could take her hand. I took her home to show her my art and new tattoos, I showed her our terrible one-eyed kitten, Basket (Wicker’s son), and the little house we styled ourselves. I showed her our shoe closet and our queen bed, our messy kitchen and busted screen door. I showed her the moth tattoo over my heart, and Park showed her the matching lighthouse one over hers.

I tried to thank her, of course, I tried to say I owed her more than she knew for picking up an angry, dirty kid and seeing something in her. I owed her everything. But she just patted my hand and said that it’s not about our debts in life, kid. It’s about the becoming.

-----------

If you enjoyed the story please consider donating to my ko-fi or supporting me on patreon (even a dollar helps!), check out my Sapphic fantasy book as well!

[inventors-fair]

Kald’ve, Would’ve, Should’ve (and Finally Did) Commentary

No no, of course I didn’t forget, you forgot. And I couldn’t blame you if you did, it’s been some time coming. Commentary may be a special action, but it obviously still uses the stack - and as it gets stacked under more and more things, it can take a while to see it resolved. While I can’t promise the next one is going to have split second timing, I’m definitely going to be adjusting my schedule to make getting things out on time more manageable.

This challenge revisited what I started with the release of Zendikar Rising, albeit with a slightly looser approach, and I definitely enjoyed the increased diversity that I saw in submissions because of it. I think it’ll take a couple more of these before I'm able to mould my prompt to hit exactly the kind of results I’m looking for, so I doubly appreciate everyone participating in my little mad science design experiments in the meantime.

That said, let’s not keep you waiting...

@bread-into-toast​​ - Halvar, God of Battle // Sword of the Realms

Flavour: This was a direct cleanup of a card that was already in the set, so there wasn’t a lot of flavour to credit you with specifically. There is new flavour text on the front face (which wasn’t an option on the printed version thanks to the MDFC frame treatment) that I suppose gives us slightly more insight into Halvar’s personality.

Mechanics: The front face has one minor change to the timing of the combat ability that does succeed in making it objectively more powerful, but probably does not make for more interesting gameplay overall - it pushes more of the combat math onto your opponents, essentially reducing the decisions you make to “what punishes these blocks the most.” The back face has a more significant change, trading out the original’s recursion ability for an ability that I assume is supposed to better represent the Omenpaths flavourfully, since it’s certainly not a core white effect. In practice I have to imagine the recursion ability plays more nicely with the equipment theme than a ramp effect does.

Nitpicks/Templating: The front face trigger would read “At the beginning of the declare blockers step each combat,” which is admittedly confusing because “beginning” implies that it’s before blockers even though it wouldn’t be - the awkwardness of the template is probably a reason we don’t see it more often. The ability on the rear face would want to specify where you’re casting the spell from like Sram’s Expertise does, otherwise you’re leaving it up to players to guess which spells it’s allowing them to play, and they’ll often guess wrong.

Overall: Shop the art all you want, I still think he’s as handsome as ever.

--

Charmera - Imyir, God of Tracking // Bow of Freedom

Flavour: I feel like I might be a little sketchy on the flavour for this one, but I believe the idea is that Imyir was fated to track “the Wolf” but never catch it, and had to break free of that fate in order to finally succeed. That definitely sounds like a neat concept, and I think you could’ve been even a little more explicit in delivering on it to really drive that story home - though I suppose this does already have more space devoted to flavour text than any of the Gods that did see print.

Mechanics: The ability on the front face is very powerful, I suspect the fact that the draws are temporary is a relatively small downside compared to the ability to chain card draw by hitting creatures one after another. The back face is... Well, I’ll be honest that I don’t know what you intended it to do. Indeed, both sides are exiling cards from your library face down, meaning you have no idea what they are, but allowing you to cast them. Is it supposed to be casting one at random? Did you forget to include the part where you look at the cards? That confusion aside, the 7-mana legendary artifact that mills you for 10 every turn (but explicitly hoses any graveyard synergies) doesn’t sound particularly exciting, though I guess if the effect isn’t intended to be random the free cast would be quite powerful. But just imagine casting this in multiplayer and milling yourself for 50 cards just to get to cast one for free - the ratio doesn’t seem appealing.

Nitpicks/Templating: If you want players to know what’s under their face down exiled cards, you’ve got to include a “look at” line. If a player was able to look at it once they’ll be able to look at it as often as they like for as long as it remains exiled, but that first look has to happen explicitly. Also: 8 lines of text does not have room for flavour text.

Overall: I just hope the Wolf made it out okay.

--

@col-seaker-of-the-memiest-legion​ - Scythed Whirlwind

Flavour: Embittered with time is definitely right up Egon’s alley, though the card name and the other aspects of the flavour don’t feel like they resonate particularly strongly with me. If there’s a way the flavour is supposed to lend itself to the mechanics, I’m not immediately seeing it.

Mechanics: You mentioned in your submission that you intended this to be a “skill-testing” board wipe, but I’m struggling to imagine what skill this would be testing. This is obviously just a board wipe in the vast majority of board states, though obviously it does - somewhat - encourage you to play creatures with equipments, but in practice this is still just going into (near-)creatureless decks.

Nitpicks/Templating: Targets are chosen as part of casting a spell, so they can’t be conditional like this. You’d want the spell to be modal, as you won’t be obligated to select targets for the mode you didn’t choose.

Overall: Maybe it’s just me, but the name conjures images of kamaitachi more than anything out of Norse mythology. But I’m also not an expert.

--

@corporalotherbear​​ - Explore the Realms

Flavour: You acknowledged that flavour was your focus with this one, with the flavour text here hinting at an upcoming Phyrexian corruption of the ten realms. That makes some sense in the context of Vorinclex’s unexplained appearance, and indeed may wind up being something Kaldheim has to deal with in the future. 

Mechanics: An Explore variant that lets you drop two lands instead of one, albeit for one extra mana. Ramping by two is a lot more powerful than ramping by one, but the requirement of having two lands available makes this a little less consistent. Generally speaking, cards with high power level and high variance tend to lead to unsatisfying play patterns, so I’d be nervous about the games where this does succeed in ramping from 3 to 6, even if it does so unreliably.

Nitpicks/Templating: Most quotations in flavour text are credited to someone, and while it’s not strictly necessary in a case like this, I think it would go a ways to helping deliver on the flavour.

Overall: Ten realms is an upgrade over nine hells, I guess.

---

@deg99 - Nith, Root Gnawer

Flavour: Your goal was to deliver on more dragons, and this kinda does that. I’ll admit that I’m lost on why it’s also a Troll, as those are completely separate species and it doesn’t appear to be an obvious crossbreed of the two. It’s not immediately obvious what the lands in graveyard clause is supposed to represent flavourfully, but if Gadrak is any indication that isn’t really necessary.

Mechanics: What stands out most here is - obviously - the repeatable land destruction. Against anything but the rampiest of decks, if you have this on the battlefield by turn six it is very unlikely for any opponent to recover from blowing up a land and creating a large token every turn. The fact that it’s unable to attack early really doesn’t feel relevant, because it’ll rarely be attacking late either - the upside of denying your opponent resources while expanding your board is almost always just much better than 5 damage.

Nitpicks/Templating: Templating favours common contractions, so it’s “can’t attack,” and (for whatever reason) only subtypes are ever capitalised: “4/4 green Troll Warrior creature token with trample.”

Overall: Repeatable land destruction is certainly a trollish thing to do, I’ll give you that.

--

@demimonde-semigoddess - Huatli, Guiding Hand

Flavour: Huatli on Kaldheim is a curious inclusion, feeling even more out-of-place than the existing non-native planeswalkers - of course this isn’t exactly a bad thing, as planeswalkers aren’t really supposed to blend in anyway.

Mechanics: The interplay between the three abilities here seems reasonable enough, the downtick creating tokens that trigger the first ability, and the uptick allowing them to trigger it on both attacks and blocks. It’s a little unexpected that both ways of triggering the ability are inherently aggressive (the block trigger only succeeds in tapping down blockers for the next turn), and cute that the otherwise unique tribal effect works with changelings in the set. It’s a little hard to gauge the overall power of three-mana planeswalkers as there’s often a thin line between unimpressive and broken so I won’t pretend to know how powerful this is just by looking, though I imagine the difficulty of blocking against it would give creature decks lots of trouble.

Nitpicks/Templating: You likely know the creature type in the first ability should be capitalised, and abilities with multiple targets read “each get” for the sake of clarity.

Overall: Is it the dinos that her hand is guiding, or something else?

--

@dimestoretajic​ - Calix, the Hidden

Flavour: This is an unexpected take on Calix, taking on a rather different appearance presumably as a disguise. It’s not immediately clear to me what he’d be hiding from, but the reference to Kratos is cute even if it’s ultimately confusing.

Mechanics: Always hard to evaluate planeswalkers without the benefit of iteration, but the abilities seem roughly in Calix’s wheelhouse. The first ability is a scry that upgrades to a draw if it hits an enchantment, probably reasonable enough at three mana; the downtick lets you trade him in immediately for a Stasis Snare effect; and the ultimate gives you a bunch of free Sagas. I think the idea of Calix interacting with Sagas is a little cute, though he definitely had that opportunity on Theros and didn’t so it might have been best to do it a little more subtly.

Nitpicks/Templating: The first ability feels like it has a lot of decision points for digital; I’d consider just revealing in the first place to save some clicks. The second ability is probably much wordier than it should be; I don’t think you gain much by naming the token (or by making it green), and the exile effect should probably just look closer to original Calix’s downtick. Be careful with so many wordy abilities on one planeswalker; I understand the desire to be clever, but ironically being elegant is even cleverer than being clever.

Overall: I’m down for Calix with a beard.

--

@driftingthruthecosmos​ - Immortal Triumph

Flavour: This appears to be playing into the trope space of Valhalla, letting your permanents ascend to the beyond only to return for a prophetic final battle. I think the art is an actual depiction of Valhalla, and the name generally signals toward the same concepts without actually embracing Kaldheim’s application of the same trope space, “the Worthy.”

Mechanics: This card definitely doesn’t work as written, but I prefer to judge design on the design’s merit’s, so I’ll do my best to work out how you expected it to work. The fact that this hits any nonland permanent makes it quite versatile, allowing it to return the same permanent turn after turn which can be difficult to overcome - even something as innocuous as Omen of the Sun can be pretty overbearing being recurred turn after turn with relatively little room for counterplay.

Nitpicks/Templating: The first ability leaves a few unintuitive holes where permanents can be lost despite the replacement effect. The second one appears to grant foretell (and a foretell cost) to a card it just put in your hand, which isn’t logistically feasible since your hand is a hidden zone. I’m not sure why the ability didn’t just turn the chosen card face down and make it foretold a la Ethereal Valkyrie.

Overall: I think my biggest wish for this one would be that the ‘glory’ was actually something you had to earn, rather than being totally universal.

--

@evscfa1​ - Mistlebranche, Cosmic Prank

Flavour: The core idea of a weapon based on mistletoe deriving from the story of Baldr is really sweet, though some of the aspects of this design seem to stray a bit from that core concept. Most significantly the decision to make it a snow permanent with a snow equip cost seems rather unexpected.

Mechanics: Not to sound like a broken record, but the snow equip cost is what catches my eye the most: it makes the design very narrow, being completely useless without two snow sources plus a creature to put it on. Once it’s equipped, deathtouch and menace means that any creature this goes on will immediately be trading 2-for-1, making it really difficult to keep up with in any deck that’s able to produce tokens. Exiling planeswalkers too is a cute addition, and particularly powerful alongside making your creatures highly unprofitable to block.

Nitpicks/Templating: If you’re gonna make a weapon based explicitly on a plant, how did it end up anything but green? I imagine you designed the abilities first and chose the color to fit, but in this case I think the color was probably an important aspect of delivering on the concept and wasn’t a good place for compromise.

Overall: The name Mistlebranche sounds so elegant, though.

--

@fractured-infinity - Firja, First of the Valkyrie

Flavour: Reusing the Firja character with a new title. There’s enough about Firja elsewhere in the set to inform her character a bit, but that also means the title change can only do so much to change my perception of her.

Mechanics: The four life as a cost is pretty close to free here, but it does at least force you to adjust your play patterns to preserve your life total as you work up to it. In practice this is the kind of card you generally hold onto until you can guarantee some value from, and since we don’t see many Angels below three mana, this would often be waiting until eight to get played. That’s probably reasonable though, as once it does get going it tends to end games very, very quickly. This has the interesting upside of being less bad in multiples than most legendary creatures, as the second copy of this can still be cast to generate a token off the first.

Nitpicks/Templating: “First” in the name and each instance of “Angel” in the text ought to be capitalised, and life is always expressed with numerals: “4 life.”

Overall: Nice to see her growing out of that awkward Judge of Valor phase.

--

@hypexion - Kaya’s Gambit

Flavour: A play on the existing Divine Gambit design, with a couple minor tweaks. Interestingly, the flavour text comes very close to standing on its own - I didn’t remember the original’s, and yet it made some sense on its own (though perhaps it would’ve made less if I wasn’t aware of Divine Gambit already). The biggest miss is that the “gambit” part of the name makes virtually no sense with this design, as there’s no risk involved in using it.

Mechanics: Flexible if conditional removal. At worst it’s Disperse, at its best it’s just an exile effect. The biggest differences between this and the original are the open information and the (virtual) lack of a failure rate: with open information you’ll never be surprised by what your opponent gets back from this, and only returning the card to hand means that it’s rarely just not worth doing at all. This is clearly a more powerful version of the effect, but I’m not convinced it’s either more interesting nor a more appropriate power level.

Nitpicks/Templating: You probably want to use “with that permanent” instead of “with it”, as the text refers to multiple objects and they like to be as unambiguous as possible. I looked for examples that used “it,” but I didn’t immediately find any.

Overall: There are white cards, and then there are good cards.

--

@i-am-the-one-who-wololoes​ - Winter Travels

Flavour: The name definitely conveys both the concept and the mechanics reasonably well, and the flavour text itself is really evocative and has great imagery to it.

Mechanics: A mistake designers tend to make when designing for a known format is throwing multiple elements of that format onto the same card: when not done carefully, the result is a card that only works in a narrow intersection rather than being interesting in each archetype it makes use of. In this case, Snow archetypes make much better use of this than foretell archetypes, meaning this probably should’ve just accepted it was a Snow card and dropped foretell altogether.

Nitpicks/Templating: The template is unclear about whether the second condition - all snow mana - applies only when the spell is foretold or not, which is always going to be a problem with double-conditional cards. Also: this card had 9 lines of text before you put flavour text, it’s important to know when to make cuts.

Overall: Maybe I’ve read too much Robert Frost, but I really appreciate how poetic the concept here feels.

--

@ignorantturtlegaming​ - Elendriel, Twisted Prophet

Flavour: It’s not super clear to me who or what this is supposed to represent. The name and typing is enough to hint at a broad identity, but there’s a lot going on and not enough string to really tie it all together.

Mechanics: Like I mentioned for the submission above, throwing lots of a sets themes/mechanics onto a single card generally makes that card narrower and less exciting, rather than more exciting. In this case you’ve got a card relying heavily on foretell outside of the foretell archetype colors, unable to meaningfully contribute to its own colors’ archetype (Elves) without foretell, plus a boast ability that feels out of place both mechanically and conceptually...and also depends entirely on foretell.

Nitpicks/Templating: Flavour text was pretty important for the boast cards. While there were a couple rares that didn’t have room for it, notably the legendary ones both did because the flavour text was instrumental in selling the mechanic.

Overall: Elves > Foretell > Boast > ??? > Prophet!

--

@kavinika​ - Tjalfi, the Godly Messenger // Fjara, Doomskar Lookout

Flavour: Your submission took some time to explain the top-down basis for these two - a servant of Thor (Tjalfi) and one of the roosters of Ragnarok (Gullinkambi) - though obviously you’ve taken some slight liberties. The biggest issue with the flavour here is that it diverges from what the set establishes the Gods to look like - double-faced creatures with elements closely related to their divine duties on the reverse. With the set having only limited space to create and deliver on expectations, there probably just isn’t space to also subvert those expectations.

Mechanics: Mechanically, it’s awkward to have a red card that generates longterm card advantage, even if the condition for doing so is essentially a red thing. The two sides sort of push you in the same direction - lots of nontoken creatures - and the trigger on Fjara theoretically helps to reclaim Boast creatures that were lost trying to trigger the opposite side. The mana costs seem hard to pull off in the same deck, but I can at least see the play pattern it’s trying to encourage - though I can’t help but wish Fjara’s ability was a Boast ability, just to really help the card enable itself as most of the Gods do.

Nitpicks/Templating: Tjalfi’s triggered ability runs on a bit, it probably wants to be separated into two sentences: “ [...] of your library. You may reveal [...]” I’ll also a nitpick that if you’re going to base a character on something as unique as a rooster that crows at the end of the world, you probably want to make the connection as clear as possible - I don’t think anyone is going to make that connection here.

Overall: Maybe I’m just salty that I didn’t get the chicken version.

--

@kytheon4-4 - Gunnar the Breathless

Flavour: You made sure to include flavour text, which I think was really important to selling the Boast ability as it appeared on cards in the set. The specific flavour text you chose comes off as wordy, the story it tells is hard for me to parse (one can only imagine where they’d tucked the troll’s club away whilst hitching a ride), and doesn’t feel like it connects in any obvious way to the ability on the card. One of the fun aspects of Boast was how well they focused on creating stories to explain the specific ability on the card, but apart from maybe interpreting the troll’s lunch as life gain, I’m just not seeing that on this one.

Mechanics: You’re right that it would’ve been nice to have one of the Boast enablers show up at a lower rarity, though I’m suspecting that it probably didn’t for power level reasons - Boast is actually pretty powerful, and I wouldn’t be surprised if one of the rare enablers had started out at uncommon and gotten pushed to rare for being too impactful. I think it’s nice of you to try to make the ability broad enough to work outside of just Boast - there are a few things this breaks in older formats, but in Standard the scariest thing it can do is enable Kargan Intimidator or Subira, both of which are probably safe enough even with free abilities.

Nitpicks/Templating: All the templating stuff looks fine.

Overall: The irony of “the Breathless” holding a horn is not lost on me.

--

@masternexeon - Aggravated Berserker

Flavour: This card is a little light on flavour, which I’m normally just fine with, but in the context of Boast the flavour does a lot to bring the mechanic to life. It’s clever that the name is a throwback to Aggravated Assault, but I think a little more attention to detail could’ve helped it really pop.

Mechanics: Obviously this was really close to one of the winners, with the big difference being the Dwarf tribal element. Obviously I favoured the version that had a slightly broader appeal, but since Dwarf tribal was one of the themes of the set, there’s probably a version of this design that does both (extra combat for everyone plus a bonus for Dwarves) that I would’ve liked better than either.

Nitpicks/Templating: You’ll want to make sure to capitalise “Dwarves” in your rules text.

Overall: No spoilers, but this one almost seems designed with my next challenge in mind.

--

@misterstingyjack - Toralf and Valki Deceive the Giant King

Flavour: Boy howdy, that’s a name - I’m impressed that your renderer got it to fit. This is a top-down story about Thor disguising himself as his own mother in order to trick a giant that wishes to marry her into returning his hammer. The chapters of the Saga follow that pattern pretty precisely, letting you disguise one of your creatures and - over a couple turns - steal an artifact from an opponent. You might have considered swapping chapters 1 and 2, so that the destruction effect could represent the hammer going missing which prompted the whole endeavour. Indeed, then you could even move the mill effect into that ability, to represent the hammer being buried after it’s stolen.

Mechanics: Similarly, I think putting the destruction effect up front would’ve done this card some good. The copy effect is cute, but it’s not the most powerful effect on the card, and as written this is pretty easy to blank with a removal spell. I do really like the way the abilities intersect the colors - destroying an artifact or creature requires both colors, temporary copy effects from a graveyard feels both red and black, and recurring an artifact is something red can do that still feels pretty black.

Nitpicks/Templating: As much as I respect how ambitious the name was, I’m confident you had shorter options available.

Overall: It’s always lovely to see a top-down story that you enjoy getting represented as a card, nice choice.

--

@mtg-ds - Koll, Breath of the Bellows

Flavour: I definitely understand your frustration that there aren’t more smiths that do actual smithing in Magic, instead just encouraging you to build a deck that simulates their doing so. This correction for that is pretty straightforward, making axes and shields to equip to your army.

Mechanics: The low costs on this are going to lead to a lot of Equipment tokens on the battlefield at any given time - any time you have unspent mana you’re going to pour it into making tokens, especially since you can do so at instant speed. Combining that with the first ability reducing the Equip cost to zero, you’re going to have a mass of equipments shifting constantly from creature to creature, which just seems logistically difficult to keep track of.

Nitpicks/Templating: Everything looks right to me.

Overall: I have to assume stumpy Dwarven limbs are to blame for why they’re wearing shields on their shoulders rather than strapping them to their arms like the rest of us.

--

@naban-dean-of-irritation - Niko, the Defiant

Flavour: Niko was immediately a beloved character for a lot of us, so I can definitely understand wanting to reimagine that character more in line with your perception of them. It’s hard replacing the first iteration of a planeswalker because all the lore we have available is the card that exists and stories based on that card - so it’s just inherently difficult for me to see how these abilities relate to the character, since it’s essentially establishing a different character with the same name.

Mechanics: The most glaring issue is the fact that the first ability essentially gives haste on a WU card, which qualifies as either a very strange design choice or a pretty significant oversight. The third ability also feels like it’s skirting the color pie, presumably attempting an Omniscience impression that just feels out of place for this pair. The uptick and downtick feel like they’re designed to do pretty similar things, both primarily saving creatures from unfortunate blocks. I suspect the reason is that the ‘instant speed on your turn’ effect pushed the design into rather narrow space, where two abilities came out very similar while the third simply doesn’t really benefit from the instant speed.

Nitpicks/Templating: No obvious templating woes.

Overall: As much as I respect their defiance, defying the color pie is where I draw the line.

--

@nine-effing-hells - Fraenir, the Greed-Cursed

Flavour: I always enjoy top-down designs especially, and this story of a Dwarf hoarding treasures until they transform into a Dragon is such an excellent place to mine for those designs - and really, what set wouldn’t want more Dragons? The abilities themselves tell a story of murser and greed, even without needing flavour text to help it along. 

Mechanics: I think my biggest issue with this design is that rather than the transformation being something you work towards or work to avoid, it is awkwardly positioned between the two - there are times the Dwarf Berserker will be larger by virtue of controlling lots of non-Treasure artifacts, making it unclear what the play pattern of the card actually is. It does have the benefit of being easy to avoid transforming when you don’t want to, but I think it would suit the design better to arrange the abilities to make the comparisons between the two states clearer (for example, giving the Dwarf non-combat abilities and saving the combat abilities for the Dragon half).

Nitpicks/Templating: Easy mistake, you missed the word “token” in the sacrifice trigger.

Overall: I’m really curious what the art for a card like this would look like.

--

@partlycloudy-partlyfuckoff - Pagan Chamberlain

Flavour: I have to assume the whole design was for a chance to use that flavour text, as the other aspects of the card don’t seem to align with Kaldheim as a setting - the world has no actual vampires, and the concept of a non-believer makes a lot less sense in a world where gods are as tangible as this one.

Mechanics: Similarly, this isn’t playing into any of the mechanical themes of the set; there isn’t even a strong monocolor theme to run counter to. I suspect the rationale is that each of the gods in the set are monocolor creatures, but seeing as there’s already a card in the set with protection from Gods, it seems strange to try to be subtler about it than that one.

Nitpicks/Templating: Nothing much to nitpick over.

Overall: In this set, the answer to that question is usually “an artifact.”

--

@real-aspen-hours - Ill Omen

Flavour: The name aligns well with the foretell mechanic, and the flavour text helps connect an important story beat to a broader narrative and to the flavour of the card itself. I’d be a little reticent about including such a significant spoiler in flavour text, but perhaps there’s a way to phrase it so that it reads like a prophecy until you find out it’s already happened.

Mechanics: This is effectively three-for-one removal, which is a lot of value for a single uncommon. Locking it to sorcery speed gives at least some incentive not to foretell it, as that delays it for a full turn - it won’t be often you cast it straight, but that I can at least imagine the situations is a plus. It’s especially powerful in that when it isn’t useful as a removal spell, it allows you redraws for something more useful.

Nitpicks/Templating: Foretell shows up after the spell effect, even for those cards that care whether they were foretold. While we’re here, good catch on including a target in the card draw effect - while it would be easy to exclude one, ensuring that the spell has two targets keeps the whole thing from fizzling if the targeted creature disappears before it resolves.

Overall: This feels like it’s only a slight push away from being constructed playable, and I’d be interested to explore what more it takes to get it there.

--

@snugz - Surtland Rimereader

Flavour: I rather like the flavour here, a Giant that’s able to see the future with the help of the snow allowing you a Future Sight effect specifically for snow cards is pretty satisfying. It’s not immediately obvious what the last ability represents, but the rest of the card feels like it sells it well enough anyway.

Mechanics: I’m not entirely sure that blue is still able to play lands off of this type of effect; the original obviously did, but none of the blue variations since then have, and I’m not sure ‘snow’ is a blue identity to bend for it. The triggered ability feels a little bit awkward with the overall design since you specifically don’t have much control over the first spell you cast when you’re doing so from the top of your deck.

Nitpicks/Templating: Good catch on the updated template for Future Sight, as I don’t think they’ve actually printed any cards with that wording yet. It was updated some time after Bolas’s Citadel was printed, and we’ve yet to have another card in that style see print.

Overall: Would’ve loved a rime-rhyme pun somewhere in the set, and this feels like an opportune place for it.

--

@stormtide-leviathan - Kvasha, God of Magic // Kvasha’s Birth

Flavour: In this setting, the connection between enchantments and Spirits and flash doesn’t feel immediately obvious. Now naturally this is trying to create a connection where one didn’t exist previously, but it does feel like it muddles the flavour slightly to do so.

Mechanics: This is large and evasive enough to serve as a finisher even without making extra tokens, though the tokens can serve as some resiliency against removal. I’m not entirely sure how the flash ability relates to the rest of the card, except to change the template of the Saga’s first ability. If that were so important I’d have looked for a first chapter ability that could take advantage of being cast at instant speed, but then more likely I would’ve just cut the flash bit entirely.

Nitpicks/Templating: I’m not sure what it was intending, but there’s no way for a chapter ability to see the object it’s on entering the battlefield - that ability won’t resolve until well after the permanent has entered, and if it somehow re-entered the battlefield it would do so as an entirely new object. The last chapter ability will want to specify whose controller the object returns under (usually its owner’s), and you’ll want to move the ‘face-up’ bit into reminder text - you don’t need rules text to make it work that way, but it’s definitely worth clarifying for players who might not realise.

Overall: My favourite god designs in this set were the ones that let you use both sides with just one copy.

--

@thedirtside - Ragnarock

Flavour: The setting for Kaldheim reworked the concept of Ragnarok into what they called a Doomskar, leaving the original name feeling out of place within the setting. The color combinations used for the spell also aren’t represented in the setting, making it difficult to imagine what part of the world this is supposed to be representing in practice.

Mechanics: The most obvious point here is that the foretell cost and the casting cost don’t overlap, making it almost impossible that any given deck will actually have the option of casting it both ways - since the options it provides are the only thing that makes foretell interesting, intentionally designing to hamper that doesn’t seem like a good use of the mechanic. The foretell cost is also much easier to pay than the casting cost, making the added bonus for foretelling the spell feel really counterintuitive.

Nitpicks/Templating: It’ll take a slightly wordier template to achieve the second part of this effect, something like: “For each permanent destroyed this way, CARDNAME deals damage to that permanent’s controller equal to that permanent’s mana value.”

Overall: That must be a really big rock.

--

@theobligatorysql​ - The Sagas of Worlds

Flavour: One of the fascinating things about Sagas is the way they use art to represent the stories for them - this set uses carvings, reliefs, even tattoos as a form of storytelling. So while the idea of compiling them all into a single tome is cute, it feels to me like it isn’t exactly fitting for the world itself. I could definitely see it as the work of an outsider - Tamiyo, for example - but it feels like it makes less sense as something native to the plane.

Mechanics: I’m a sucker for designs in the vein of Treasure Map and Mazemind Tome, so an artifact with a cheap scry effect is right up my alley - though admittedly, I’m not sure why this inventivises scrying to the bottom as that complicates the calculus and will cause players to make bad scrying decisions for perceived value a nonzero amount of the time. I’m never a big fan of tutoring as it tends to lead to repetitive gameplay, and the fact that it takes at least 4 full turns to set this up to draw even a second card means that it’s nearly always going to be fetching up a cheap Saga instead of a random draw.

Nitpicks/Templating: I’d probably just use “scried” in the first ability, though admittedly that templated hasn’t been used yet.

Overall: This would be a great opportunity to finally get the word “edda” on a Magic card.

--

@wolkemesser - Bard of the Fallen Meek

Flavour: This was actually far and away my favourite submission to this challenge in terms of flavour, as I love the way it draws attention to the difference between Istfell and Starnheim, and shows regular individuals within the setting reacting to the concept of the Worthy. The flavour text itself could probably stand to be pared down to be a little punchier about the point it’s making, but I absolutely love what it’s trying to do.

Mechanics: That said, the implementation is a little messier. The skulk mechanic was used in one block five years ago, so certainly doesn’t qualify as evergreen. I like that the creature itself has stats that make it easy to safely get its Boast ability going, though the ability itself feels rather unexciting. I’m not sure what about the card demands the double white in the mana cost, or even what makes this a rare over an uncommon.

Nitpicks/Templating: You missed capitalising “Spirit” in the Boast ability.

Overall: I would’ve loved to pick this as a winner, next time try an extra pass or two to make sure you’re hitting all the aspects of the challenge.

[snippetsnitch]

(This prompt spooked around in my head for a really long time. 🤣 I know the season does not quite fit, but compassion and the spirit of Christmas are always valid, no matter the time of the year! 🌲 Please enjoy! 🖤)

#7 - Cold

[Hero] walked through the snowy streets, trying to take in everything that their eyes registered. The change in weather had been so sudden that no one in the city had taken precautions against the surprising winter. Only one week ago, the news had reported about "A surpassingly long term of really mild temperatures" for this autumn.

...How far that was away right now.

They looked down to the ground. It must have been already five inches. And it continued steadily. No busses, trains or taxis would drive this evening, maybe not even tomorrow. The whole city was astonied.

Rationally, [Hero] had every reason to be pessimistic about that. Everything was chaotic, locomotion was limited and their flat was isolated like shit eversince, allowing the freezing air to creep directly inside of their home.

Still, it felt peaceful. It seemed like everything was set into slow motion. The usual stress was muted by the tons of frozen water that sailed down the sky, making everything quiet.

[Hero] wondered when they had seen snow the last time. It must've been years. They didn't know they had missed it so much.

Maybe, [Hero] mused in their thoughts, they would even go to one of the Christmas markets tomorrow, just for the feeling of it.

Their eyes glid over the white alleys and a silent smile appeared on their features. Yes, they would go. They would go and enjoy themself. Take a break from their busy job and let their soul rest for some time.

They took a few more turns and just decided to go home, when they noticed something strange.

A shadow, only a few feet ahead of them. [Hero] approached with slow steps and frowned.

Their eyes widened when they recognized what the bulky umbrage in the white snow was: A person. Not moving and in a curled up position.

"Hey!", [Hero] called, hastily making their way towards them, "Hey, are you alright?" They kneeled next to the figure and gently shook them by the shoulder.

"Are you conscious? It's far too cold here to-"

The words got stuck in their throat, when they turned the stranger around and the shadows revealed who was laying in front of them:

[Villain]. Bloody and bruised.

[Hero] took in a sharp breath, instantly jerking away from the criminal. Their hand glid automatically to the place where their weapon would normally be, but there was nothing. They must have left it at home. Shit.

They looked around frantically.

Was this a trap?

Were [Villains] henchmen still here?

"D-Don't worry...I-I'm alone...", a faint voice murmured. It belonged to [Villain].

[Hero] looked down. Their actual nemesis had turned their head around, hazy eyes looking at them in a disoriented manner.

"A-Are you.. M-my guardian Angel...?"

Now that the lights shone onto them, [Hero] noticed the bruises that were covering [Villains] pale face. Their nose was broken too. All around were footprints and crimson splatters in the shuffled snow.

Paying closer attention, [Hero] also saw the little shudders that ran through [Villains] maltreated body.

How long had they lain here?

"[Villain], what-...What has happened to you...?", [Hero] asked hesistantly, still scanning the street for unwelcome attackers.

The criminal simpered blearily. [Hero] had never seen them smile, only grinning and sneering. Like this, [Villain] nearly looked like a decent human being. "I-I... didn't t-take care... of m-myself...", they murmured. They looked up to [Hero] with misty eyes. "..w-was s-so..stupid..."

[Hero] was astonished. Did [Villain] even know who was kneeling in front of them?

They looked around once again. It could be such a perfect way to lure them into their enemies claws. No one was approaching the streets and the snow would silence any kind of fight or action. They would be gone within a second.

[Villain] just had to make them feel pitiful enough to forget their cover.

But what if it was not a trap?

[Hero] was at loss. They could not just flee and let [Villain] be perished by the cold. They would never forgive themself, if there was even the slightest chance that their enemy was actually in danger.

All the time, [Villain] kept their mellow gaze on them, their fluttering eyelids already sprencled with frost.

"Goddamnit.", [Hero] chuntered. Their voice filled with frustration. "Why didn't I go home one alley ealier?"

They were caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. But they had to do something.

Swallowing their fear (and probably all of their common sense), [Hero] decided to take a closer look at [Villains] state. They cautiously approached their nemesis and gently pushed a hand into the collar of their shirt, still looking out for any attacks.

[Villains] skin was terribly cold. [Hero] gulped when they found the pulse: Far too low. "Can this be true..?", [Hero] questioned themself before removing their fingers carefully.

Was [Villain] really howering between life and death?

"T-they.. attacked m-me..", [Heros] nemesis breathed suddenly. Their gaze told [Hero] that they were only moments away from falling unconscious. "I c-can't m-mo..ve.. m-my legs... i-i'm..s-so col...d.." [Villains] eyes flickered and finally, their head sank down onto the pavement.

Oh god... This really wasn't staged.

What the hell should they do now? Nobody would be able to take [Villain] prisoner in this snowstorm. Nobody-

Suddenly, [Hero] froze. No one knew that they were here. No one knew that [Villain] was here.

The realization of the perfidious plan slowly perlocated through [Heros] mind: Someone had attacked and purposely dumped [Villain] here to let them die a slow and lonely death. The weather was perfect to avoid unwanted spectators and killed everyone who stayed too long within only a few hours. [Villain] had been made immobile and was left without any chance for rescue.

There was only one unforeseeable factor that could still cross that plan: [Hero].

What were the odds that someone else would find [Villain] in time? All the way through the streets, [Hero] hadn't seen a soul. It was a tight time slot, exclusively open for them. [Hero] shuddered.

The choice about their enemies' life laid in their hands.

Looking down, they noticed that [Villain] had stopped shivering. Their skin was slowly starting to turn blue.

One more hour and they were dead.

[Hero] had to make a decision. Now.

...Rationally, [Hero] knew that they should just leave them.

No one would suspect a thing. Hell, authorities would even be glad, if [Villain] was gone. There wouldn't be any further investigations that could damage [Heros] reputation and mark them as a criminal. They would be save and sound.

Also, if [Hero] saved them, everything [Villain] did in the future would automatically redound upon them. No matter if other people knew it or not, [Hero] would be at least partially responsible for [Villains] crimes.

They had to think about leaving them here.

But [Villain] was a human being. They were a person. A fucking criminal, a pain in the ass and an arrogant slug, but still: A person.

[Villain] was just as human as [Hero] and their team were.

God, what should they do? Wasn't [Hero] on the good side? Shouldn't they help others whenever it was possible? Even when the person in misery was [Villain]?

"[Villain]. Who robs, blackmails and threatens other people. Who brings nothing but trouble. You really think they are worth saving?", a sharp voice in [Heros] head asked. It sounded just like the one of their boss. "They are trash, nothing more."

"Trash...", [Hero] echoed silently.

Yes, that's what [Villain] was for their company. Not a person: Trash. A disruptive factor.

Taking a decision, [Hero] turned away and took a few steps.

It was true. They had to leave them. Everyone would be better off without [Villain]. Everyone would be safer.

...This was the right thing to do.

...But...

"Goddamn it!", [Hero] cursed and shook their head, hastily walking back to [Villain].

No. They couldn't do it.

They couldn't fucking do it.

Never would they forgive themself, if they extradited someone to death. Maybe their bosses were like that, but [Hero] wasn't. They couldn't just let someone die because it was easier. Or because that person was in the way. Because they didn't conform [Heros] moral standards.

They didn't care if it was weakness, but [Hero] was not like this.

They couldn't let [Villain] die.

They just couldn't.

Crouching down again, [Hero] moved closer towards their enemy and tried to sit them up. [Hero] took off their own coat and wrapped it tightly around [Villains] chilled body.

They would help them.

[Hero] wouldn't let their enemy die in the snow.

When they lifted them up, [Villain] murmured something inaudible before their head fell down onto their saviors chest. Half-dried blood smeared into [Heros] shirt.

They gulped nervously. Doubts, anxiety and guilt were rising up in their chest.

This was insane... This was so fucking insane.

"Don't make me regret this!", [Hero] hissed to their foe before struggling up their feet.

"Don't make me fucking regret this!"

[camomills]

Title: Melting Point Pairing: Asuna/Lisbeth Fandom: Sword Art Online Word Count: 2,620 Summary: The one thing Asuna can’t forget from their first meeting was Lis’s smile. Notes: SAO Pride Week is officially here! This is the fic I made for Day 1's prompt, Virtual World VS Real World. This was an old WIP I revised for the event, so it’s a bit longer than some of the other stuff I’ll be posting in the coming days, and it doesn’t tackle the theme as directly. Thanks to @thegayfromrulid for beta-ing this.

AO3 Link

-

It doesn’t matter how much you fight here, you’re just changing on which floor you’ll die.

These were Asuna’s words.

While she thought differently nowadays, traces of such ideas still lingered in her thoughts. You’ll die here, something deep down whispered. This virtual castle will be your grave, and the ‘strong swordswoman’ you’ve nurtured over the past six months will shatter away, not even leaving a body to be honored.

For now, however, this ‘strong swordswoman’ was who she was. She carried on as the Vice Commander of the Knights of the Blood Oath, the stark general she needed to be.

She wondered, at times, if, perhaps, she didn’t take this position for the protection of others, but for herself. Maybe, without the burden of others’ lives draped over her back, her psyche would crumble down like a puny sand castle against crashing waves. This enormous pressure was the only thing holding her together; a single strand carrying limitless weight.

It’s hard remembering, sometimes, that she’s merely a girl.

**

Whenever Asuna strode down the corridors of her guild’s hall, a steely mask of fortitude resting upon her face, rounds of weary faces passed through her. Faces used to strife and loss.

Such faces were what she had grown used to.

As such, she couldn’t help but be taken aback when that brown-haired girl flashed her the most genuine smile she’d seen in her time in Aincrad.

“Welcome to Lisbeth’s Smith Shop!”

Asuna wandered through the merchant district of Ralberg in the 19th Floor in search of someone who could reinforce her new rapier. Before she knew it, she had been engulfed by the place, the bumping and rustling of moving cargo and the bustling voices of shoppers and vendors disorienting her until she was lost.

As she aimlessly roamed through one of the alleys within the district, darting her eyes through the passing figures and stray vendors in the narrow passage, she caught sight of this girl.

She seemed to be about Asuna’s age. She sat with her legs crossed, a short anvil and a petite hammer in front of her. Her face donned a hint of freckles, along with lively copper eyes adorned by an equally lively smile.

Approaching her, the swordswoman lowered her head towards her. Brushing some strands of brown hair behind her ear, the blacksmith raised hers in kind.

“How can I help you today?” the brown-haired girl asked, gesturing to the plain carpet in front of her, along with the diminutive hammer and anvil resting on top of it. Asuna wasn’t sure if that could be called a ‘shop’.

“Oh. Uh, yes,” she mumbled out in reply, instinctively forcing her voice into a lower pitch. Recovering her focus, Asuna unsheathed her rapier from its scabbard, a faint gleam reflecting from it. “I’m looking for someone who could reinforce this.”

The blacksmith raised her hand, and Asuna hesitantly rested her sword onto it. As per usual, she had grown oddly attached to a weapon.

The seated girl swiped her right index finger down and selected the Item Appraisal option, a small, semi-transparent window popping over the weapon with the action.

“I generally go to this other guy for reinforcing, but… it’s been hard to contact him lately.”

The implication in Asuna’s comment sent shivers down the blacksmith’s spine. Her voice cracked a bit, but she continued to smile regardless.

“Sure, that uh, that shouldn’t be a problem!”

The blacksmith started to perform the usual reinforcement procedure, and Asuna watched intently as she did, as if to inspire (or perhaps shame?) her own blade into succeeding.

The copper-haired girl struck the metal exactly ten times, and both sighed in relief as the sword was set back in Asuna’s hand, a small notification with a plus sign popping from it as the green light surrounding it faded. The swordswoman had to suppress the urge to flourish her improved weapon right then and there.

As she navigated the menus to transfer the necessary money and prepared to leave, Asuna remembered the shop’s name contained its owner’s as well.

“I’ll see you later… Lisbeth.”

“Please do!”

Lisbeth’s reply came out louder than intended, catching both of them off guard. The seated girl didn’t notice the words leaving her mouth until they were already blabbered away.

To be more precise, she hadn’t noticed how lonely she’d been.

“… I mean, if you need another enhancement, I’d be glad to have you as a customer again!”

Lisbeth positioned a proud hand over a thin bicep, as if to exude confidence.

Asuna had to hold back a chuckle at her words. She couldn’t help but relate to the brown-haired girl’s struggle.

She gave the blacksmith a curt nod before leaving. “Later.”

**

 “Later.” Promising to come back to someone in Aincrad was rarely a good idea when you were stationed in the front lines. Asuna knew that. She didn’t know what came to her.

Yet, she did see her later.

She came back multiple times, in fact– whenever she had some extra Col for another enhancement, whenever she wanted to show the “shop” to a guildmate, whenever she could make up another excuse to go. Soon enough, she started coming just because, and most of the time not spent with the guild or the broody solo player she’s taken a liking to was allocated to Lisbeth.

Asuna couldn’t pinpoint what drew her to the blacksmith.

She had a cheerfulness that waltzed between genuine and forged, and a bluntness that rivaled a certain someone else she knew. Asuna’s rank as a member of one of the clearing guilds made people talk to her with a tone of reverence at times (the flashy title of Lightning didn’t suit her, she thinks), so having another person she could speak to so casually felt satisfying. Despite her first impressions, Lis could be… rather crude.

They stood there, conversation wasted away for hours now.

“Ah,” Lis sighs, crossing her arms, “I really thought I was done for then. His sword’s durability hit zero the moment my hammer touched it, and he thought that was my fault, somehow.” She tapped the surface of her Smith’s Carpet. “It’s a good thing no one can touch you while you’re on one of these things. He did say he was going to get back at me, though.”

She pshaws.

“People here love saying stuff like that to merchants. Guess they see us as NPCs, or something. Figure we’re not real people.”

Cities are safe zones, and as such no one should be in mortal danger inside them. Nonetheless, vengeful people can get crafty in here. A threat is no laughing matter.

“Lis, that sounds… dangerous. Are you sure you’re safe?”

Lis waves a hand dismissively, and forges an especially bright smile for Asuna. She pshaws again.

“Don’t worry about it, Asuna. It’s not like they’re real anything either.”

This wasn’t the first time she’s noticed Lis making light of awful happenings and players surrounding her; she does it with near death experiences and creepy customers and disastrous blacksmithing attempts that invalidated days of work looking for materials. She turned her tragedies into comedies, always forcing herself to smile doing so.

In fact, she doesn’t remember ever seeing Lis legitimately sad in their time together. She always wore her smiting smith grin, or some variation of smirk.

“I mean…”

Asuna paused, pensively.

Lis, are you really okay? is what she thought about asking, but perhaps that was Lisbeth’ way of dealing with all of… this. Aincrad and the constant threat of death and missing her family and even the people she might have lost here.

If this place isn’t real, then the people within it aren’t real.

By extension, her pain, too, was non-existent. That seemed to be Lis’s thought process.  

Was it wrong, if it allowed her to smile?

Unlike me, she…

Perhaps a bit too forcefully, she choked out a chuckle for Lis’ reply.

“… Fine, fine,” she gave up, tapping the freckled girl’s shoulder, “but promise me you’ll let me help you look for a new base of operations for your business. I think it’s about time you got a better place.”

“Haha… there is this one place I’ve been eyeing in one of the upper floors,” Lis confessed, scratching the back of her neck, “but the price is pretty hefty.”

Asuna squinted her eyes, anguished hearing Lisbeth’s plea.  

“… I’ll make my entire squadron to commission something from you if that’s what it takes.”

Lis couldn’t help but chortle out at Asuna’s uncharacteristic comment.

“What? I’m serious!”

“No, you’re not!” Lis retorted through jovial, watery eyes.

She patted Asuna’s head, which made her shoot a look Lis couldn’t tell was meant to be embarrassed or indignant.

“… But it’s really cute that you’d say something like that.”

**

The months go by and Asuna doesn’t think as much about dying.

She’s a general and she’s a swordswoman, but she’s also a mere girl– a fact a year of this death game forced her to forget. She thinks there’s nothing mere about being one now, however.

The pressure crushing her soul into moving forward, jaw clenched and nails digging into palms, is replaced with the warm push of her friends. With Kirito’s eyeroll-inducing antics. Argo’s impetuous comments. Lisbeth’s crude laughter. It surprises her, how this kindness motivates her far better than the looming anxiety. How she can live for the sake of living.

She doesn’t know when, but she knows.

She’s leaving this castle, and she’s taking those dear to her in tow.

**

The door creaked as Asuna slowly entered Lisbeth’s new shop. She was glad Lis managed to get this place without her having to resort to strong-arming her guildmates. Regardless of Lisbeth’s incredulity, she was serious about it… probably.

“Lisbeth!” She beckons, trying to warn the blacksmith of her presence. No response comes and she realizes why after a quick investigation: muffled clanks of steel meeting iron ring out from the backroom, and the spinning of the gigantic waterwheel resounds through the entire building. Lis must be hard at work.

She walks to the door behind the counter, whispering excuses under her breath as she ducks under the wooden seam. Surely enough, Lisbeth is hammering away at her anvil, the chime of weapons reverberating through the room.

Asuna barely caught sight of Lisbeth shivering as she approached.

“… Lis?”

Lisbeth turns to her, a grin on her lips and red on her eyes.

“Asuna!” she exclaims, voice sniffly, with a hint of surprise. It doesn’t sound how Asuna remembers. “Sorry, didn’t hear you coming in. Here for the materials?”

Asuna’s brow knits in worry. “Lis, were you crying?”

“I – what –” Lis stammers, then sets a hand to her eye. “Really? They programmed puffy eyes in this stupid game?”

Lis scoots her chair back as Asuna steps closer, her gloved hand brushing roughly against the corner of her eyes.

“Sorry, I’m–, I didn’t want you to have to see me like this. Don’t worry. I’m fine!”

“Lis…”

“I’m fine, I promise, just. Just give me a couple of minutes and I’ll be back to normal.”

“Lis, please.”

Asuna approaches slowly, hands outstretched. She offers them to Lis, who takes a step back before taking two forward.

She takes Asuna’s hands in hers, and the stream of tears she had stifled moments ago start racing down her cheeks again.

Lisbeth slumps over Asuna, her forehead resting over the swordswoman’s shoulder, her arms wrapping tightly around Asuna. Right now Lis feels so delicate, looks so frail, so unlike Asuna has ever seen her until now, and every part of her being wants to protect her.

A part of her knew Lis was keeping it in – who isn’t, in Aincrad? But seeing Lisbeth, her ever-cheery, best friend Lisbeth, crying in loneliness as she shakily continues to perform her work, clicks with Asuna. That’s what she was like, before meeting her.

Why wasn’t I there for her in the same way?

“I’m not sure how long I can keep doing this,” Lisbeth confesses. “Waking up every day and acting like this is normal. Like this is my job, like this is real, like my body isn’t wasting away outside.”

Lisbeth uses the forbidden word, outside, the one no one is meant to be using here to keep their sanity in check. In that moment Asuna realizes she is not simply talking to Lisbeth the Blacksmith, but to whoever Lisbeth is in the real world.

“I wish I was like you, Asuna. You’re so strong.”

It sends Asuna reeling. Lisbeth? Like her?

“What are you talking about? You are much stronger than me. You’ve kept smiling this whole time.”

She parts the locks of hair at Lis’ nape with her nails, and feels Lis’ grasp tighten.

“I’ve only been able to stand this long because I had people who reminded me I was still living in here. People like you, Lis. Your smile kept me going.”

For a moment, Lis simply digs her weight further into Asuna, the flutter of fanning eyelashes brushing against Asuna’s shoulder, streaming tears running down her arm.

When Lis’s crying subsides and she raises her head, Asuna sees that she’s smiling.

This one looks different, however. Time seems to stop as Asuna studies every inch of Lis’s face. She can tell as she sees the real thing in this moment, how Lisbeth’s winning smiles in the past were forged, a convincing replica fabricated by an expert craftswoman. This weary image in front of her now, with its displayed teeth and reddening skin and baggy eyes, is Lisbeth in her earnest, and it’s breathtakingly beautiful.

Time runs once more as Asuna sees Lisbeth’s face shorten the gap between hers, eyes half-lidded, approach slow and pleading.

It only lasts a mere moment, a fraction of a second, when their lips meet, but Asuna’s heart bursts all the same. It was more of a peck than a kiss, and yet she’s burning and Lisbeth’s burning and she’s not sure what this means, so she goes for seconds to find out, a chaste first kiss shared between two friends, pure affection woven into action.

Lis sets her head back on Asuna’s shoulder once they part lips.

“Nothing here ever had felt real, you know,” Lis starts. “Until you started talking to me. Visiting me. Thank you, Asuna.”

She interweaves their hands together, and Asuna squeezes them in response.

She can’t believe she let Lisbeth feel this way, so lonely.

She wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

**

She’s a general. She’s a swordswoman.  

She’s a girl, young and wise, frail and powerful, and so, so real.

They share a bed, their combined warmth reminding them how genuine they are.

These bodies, countless shards of light interlinked through a virtual thread, are mere representations of themselves. But how can they be called fake, when it allows them to be like this, more intimate than they’ve ever been with any other person in the real world?

Lis fell asleep as soon as her body met the bed. How long has it been since she last had a night of sleep? How long has she been forging that smile that inspired her so many times? Asuna, however, cannot bring herself to drift off, not after the way she saw Lisbeth today.

She spent a long while wondering what she was fighting for, since her entrapment. Holding her friend delicately, caressing her head as she basks in Lis’s droopy, drowsy smile, Asuna thinks she found one of many answers to the question.

As she watched Lis shift in bed, murmuring something unintelligible, her steely resolve became something beyond a mask. An earnest, warm wish solidified itself over her heart.

She would protect that smile.

[the-canary]

Sunburst - S.R (9/10)

Summary: After years of solitude, you sought out the color of life – you just didn’t think it would end up like this. (Enhanced!Reader/Steve Rogers). 

Prompt: “I think I just asked out on a date.”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Masterlist

A/N: This is for @captain-ariel-barnes writing challenge. this isn’t the best chapter, but i hope you enjoy it. 

Feedback is always appreciated.

The date doesn’t happen as soon as you thought it would -- there are things to talk about, tests you have to take, and Steve already had a trip set to visit one Bucky Barnes in Wakanda. You try your best to handle everything on your own, but you needed extra support when you entered the lab. You got cold sweats and you barely ate at times, or if you did you threw it all up sometime afterwards. Bruce and Mr. Stark --with cautious swirls of red and green-- tried to make your experience as easy as possible (with Natasha or Wanda being at your side from time to time) and while you tried not to show any fear, your body still remembered the trauma.

You had seen your own color darken into a muted grayish-pink, as it slithered in the corner of your eyes every so often and while you enjoyed dark colors more often, it wasn’t the exact shade --really not the right color-- that you wanted to see at the moment.

“So, have you felt any other changes since being able to start feelings other people’s emotions?” Bruce asks, as you think for a moment. His green pops into what reminds you of what the traffic signal might look like as a child, his center brightens as well and it easily tells you that he loves this type of thing -- scientific research and asking the big questions. It’s endearing in many ways.

Within the time that you had spent with both of them, Tony and Bruce had established that the limits of your powers were in seeing emotions through colors and now, since Rhodey, you could feel them whenever you touched a person or if someone touched you. Your limitation was with humans only thus far, since you couldn’t really see a full spectrum of emotions when it came to anomalies like Thor and Vision. Transfer of emotions was also possibility, but it wasn’t something you were willing to cross if  ever due to your past. Your color dreams were still a work in progress.

“I think people with a more muted or darker color, might have more of a louder ring to me,” you explain from your seat in utter confusion, “Or something like that.”

“And who have you been feeling that with?” Bruce asks, “Did is happen during your incident with Col. Rhodes?”

“No, no,” you let out a sigh, remembering all the bubbling and nervous energy from a few days ago, plus how you were missing it dreadfully, “I felt it with Steve.” 

 "So, you finally got to meet that artist you been touting about for awhile now, huh?”

“It’s actually more than that…”

“What do ya mean? You asked her out or something?”

“More like the other way around.”

“Well damn, I’m gonna have to meet this gal.”

 You locked yourself in your room one day, Steve still hasn’t come back, but you think you have enough to start on your project based on Steve Rogers -- you want to showcase the man you had seen behind the mantle though you aren’t to sure if you are ready for such an ordeal. Everyone knew Captain America, but there were few that knew the man that smelled like charcoal and whose hands were often smudge in pencil due to drawing too much. He wakes up early, but can’t stand coffee and takes a run to wake up instead though he still tends to sleep too late trying to still catch up everything he has missed.

He isn’t just some dark blue that you were afraid of all those months back. Steve Rogers is a man who feels too much, but hides for the sake of many things and people. He makes himself that sacrificial lamb for the things he believes in and while he has lost and suffered as a result, he doesn’t seem to regret it. You grab baby’s breath and cosmos. You has also asked Tony to get you some red brick dust from Brooklyn. White and red are splashed across the easel board, but not for the normal reasons that are associated with him.

Nurse white for the woman that raised him and red for just one too many fights in the back alleys back in Brooklyn, you smile at the result halfway completed. However, it had also sprung up another project in the long run, though that was more personal if anything else.

You look at the easel and smile, finding a good place to stop before placing the large blue plastic over it.

“Hey,” you turn up at the sound of a familiar voice, to see a light blue fluctuate like a drum, as you smile at him, “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Oh! Welcome back,” you smile as you get up from the floor as he nods, a nervous thrum in his blue sings to you, as you come closer to him.

“Is that?” he questions with an excitement in his tone of voice and you would like to believe that his eyes would sparkle for a brief moment, just like his color.

“Your art piece?” you add as he looks at you, “Yes, but it’s still a work in progress.”

“Could I get a--”

“No sneak peeks,” you smile, the nervous energy in the air making you go crazy with something that you aren’t quite sure what it might be just yet, but just being in Steve’s presence makes everything --the testing and sickness-- worth it, “Not even for Captain Rogers.”

You laugh, completely unaware on how his eyes are on you the whole time.

 I theorize it’s an acceptance of your feelings and the situation. It could have been any of us, but Steve was there in the moment. You reached out of his touch, which might have made your powers more centralized on him. It might even be a magnification of your own feelings.

What does that even mean?

I think you know well enough.

“Are you all right?”

The voice drags you from your thoughts, as you turn to see Steve giving you a worried smile from across the table. You nod and go back to eating the Italian lunch that the blond at taken you to -- one of the best places you could eat in all of Brooklyn and within an area that was relatively quiet compared to everything else in the boroughs .

Two days after his return from Wakanda, Steve had finally made the decision to take you out around New York City and while you had spent some time in Central Park as a warm-up to walk around town, it was still a hectic experience walking around and seeing so many colors come at you. You had worn a long sleeve and gloves as a precaution to your new powers since you didn’t want to cause a scene in the middle of the street if someone pushed you around while walking, which happened more than once while you made it through Manhattan into Brooklyn. You stayed close to Steve, who was wearing a hoodie and cap ensemble, as you found yourself looking at the ground -something gray and dark- to keep you calm due to all the people crammed into the subway.

It was scary as it was exciting.

Steve had showed you places that were still around from when he lived in the area, the Italian place was one of them, and some other places that he had grown fond of since coming back to New York. The bakery and small art galleries where places you had enjoyed, but the paint shop had you grinning -- as flickering lights welcomed you home and you ran around like a child, trying to figure out what you wanted to buy as Steve just watched from afar.

He had been like that all morning, he showed you around but never pushed you as you looked at everything at your own pace. He made a comment or suggestion here and there, but you were still getting used to everything and he made sure to ask if you were feeling alright at the moment. You were grateful and it just made you think about your talk with Bruce.

I think you know well enough.

You weren’t sure what he meant and it was bothering.

“I’m fine, just observing,” you finally answer back, as Steve nods.

“If you’re okay, I have a more personal spot to visit,” he states with a shy smile.

You and Steve walk a few block down to a very familiar art gallery, though you had only really been in there once or twice. You look at Steve for a moment as he just shrugs. It should be closed at this time of day, but it seems that he had asked Martha for the key. He opens the door as the lights automatically turn on.

“This is one of my favorites places,” Steve starts off as he walks to the center of the room, as you glance at all the artworks with your name on it. Old paintings welcome you like familiar friends as you try not to cry a little, “The painter is one of my favorites since I stumbled to this place a while ago.”

“ Steve ,” you say softly as he just looks at you like you’re the only thing in the world. You think about it for a moment, as you take off your glove and motion for his hand.

“Are you sure?” it had been a question he was asking a lot, and while you were thankful -- you were completely sure.

“Yeah,” you answer back, as he takes your hand. It takes him awhile, as his eyes widen but the real magic is in his blue. It pops and bubbles like seafoam, as you can’t help the grin growing on your face, it reminds of Wanda and Vision or even Mr. Stark and Pepper.

As you walk slowly around the art gallery, with Steve’s hand in yours, he talks about what he liked about each piece -- you were slowly starting to realize what Bruce meant.

You had been fascinated by Steve’s color from the very beginning and now you were sure, you wanted to know more about him as a person -- to share your time like this when you could. It’s then you come to the realize it. You stop and Steve does as well, as he turns to look at you.

You might be falling for Steve Rogers, and it seems like he is as well.

Finale 

[pixelpolaroid]

Oath by the Blood- Chapter 6

Sitting back into the Past

When Jackie returned back to the ground level of the Google’s hideout, they had apprehended the three other intruders. Two of them were tied up and Google Green was taking care of their injuries so they didn’t bleed out. The third however, the one that Jackie already knocked out, they didn’t bother tying up, Red was doing what he could to wrap his injuries. The androids all turned to face Jackie when he stepped in the back doorway.

There was a moment of tension in the air, but Jackie didn’t seem to care about it as he walked in and casually approached Blue. “So what do we do with them?” He asked.

The main google’s eyes remained emotionless and unchanged. “That is for us to decide and you not to worry about,” He sternly told him. Jackie didn’t seem to mind that. One less thing for him to concern about, and the Googles seemed to capable enough to handle it. “Thank you for the assistance, but I believe it would be wise for you to leave now.”

The red sporting ego looked crossly at the android. “Why? I helped take care of half these guys,” He suddenly felt very angry again. Did they not think he was capable enough? He could take out them if he really wanted. “I’m the one that pointed out the damn tacker in the first place!” His voice unknowingly growing louder.

“Be-ecause yo- you’re re- e-eckles-ss,” The egos turned towards the hallway to see the still fairly injured yellow android now standing there.

Red rushed to his brother’s side. Oliver only had half of his face plate, his leg was reattached now, but he still limped and his one arm had been completely removed. The red android held him up with his side. “You should be charging.”

Yellow smirked at his brother. “I co-could fe-el all you’re col-collective an-guish,” the android’s speech was still clearly not up to proper working conditions, but he was dealing. He turned to Jackie now, his half covered bringing a shiver down his spine. “They are co-conflicted. You assist-ted them in di-disabling their thr-threat, bu-ut they do not know-know-know-know-,” Yellow’s voice began trailing off. His voice box finally giving in.

Yet it was enough for Jackie to get the picture. Blue stepped in as Red took Oliver back down the basement to rest and repair his still damaged parts. “You’re adrenaline levels were far too high for a normal person, and even now I sense that you may not be safe to be around,” The android was being blunt, clearly not one to beat around the brush.

Jackie however just huffed out in disbelief. He looked around the room, Green, being the only android still there, seemed to have the same expression as Prime. “Fine,” He spat, behind him though, Jameson was now entering through the back. “I know when to catch a hint,” The hero turned, pushing past Jameson who was holding the fourth attacker with his hands behind his back. Jackie didn’t look twice at the mute as he just made his way out of the alley.

The heroic ego didn’t initially go home, he was too caught up in his own head. So instead he went to the first bar he passed. It was fairly empty there, so he took a seat and ordered a beer, pulling his hood up and just staring down at the table. He could hear the other patrons in the bar interact, coming in and out, he just kept his head down. That was until he heard someone calling him out.

“Well well well. Look who it is., you son of a bitch,” Jackie smirked, immediately recognizing the voice coming from behind him, yet he kept his head down. “Thought I heard that you finally bit the dust Jackieboy man? Too stubborn to stay dead?”

The hero just chuckled, turning finally in his seat and leaning back against the counter top. “I’m not that easy to get rid of, sorry to disappoint you Danny,” The man standing before him wore a black leather coat that seemed a little too big for him and had wild curly hair. Jackie noted that even after all those years, he still hadn’t learned how to properly apply eyeliner without looking like a raccoon. The two stared each other down, before snickering and Jackie stood to give his old friend a hug.

When they pulled away, Danny looked the hero up and down, leaving a hand on his shoulder. “It’s been too long mate, mind if I take a seat?”

“Not at all,” Jackie stepped aside and the two sat together at the bar. “What the hell are you doing here?” Jackie questioned. “Shouldn’t you be fucking some chick 4900 years in the future?”

“Uh, check your math man. It was 4950 year,” the leather baring man corrected.

He rolled his eyes, calling the bartender for another drink. “Yeah whatever,’ He responded with a snicker. He still kept his eyes down though.

Danny’s gaze narrowed as he observed his long time friend, unable to ignore the distinct changes in him. Sure it had been a long time since the two had spoken, but something had changed behind his eyes. “Dude what have you been up to?” He abruptly asked. “You look like someone dragged you through mug and now you’re just laying in it.”

Jackie smirked, eyes remaining down. “You know me too well Dan,” Jackie took a breath, thinking through his words carefully. “You know my friends? The other septic egos?”

“I’ve heard whispers of groups of figments starting to grow, yes. Not really up to date with it all though,” He responded.

“Well it’s about them. Some shit went down a while back and… it’s just hard being around them with who I am now,” He simply said. Jackie knew how vague he was being, but he didn’t know how to explain everything to his friend.

The singer nodded however, having to put some things together on his own though. “Well just sitting down I can tell you’ve changed,” He gave him a suspicious side eye. “You haven’t gone evil on me now have you?” His voice was surprisingly serious with a hint of threatening as well.

“No. No no no. I just,” the ego ran his hand through his long bangs. “i feel like I keep hurting the people close to me. I don’t mean for this to happen but I just don’t feel like myself any more. Nothing feels right anymore,” Jackie shoved his shivering hands deep into the front pocket of his hoodie

“Family’s rough buddy. But I feel like you should know exactly who you are,” Jackie turned to him with a confused expression. “You’re a hero. Remember that oath you took? I’m sure you do. You used to recite it every day until you had it memorized. What did that say again?” He gave his friend a knowing smirk.

Jackie closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “May my senses, my strength and my heart guide me. To protect the innocent, and bring justice to the guilty. I swear one my life and on my mask, may I remain just. To the end of my days, till the light fades away, and by this oath that I take. I will always be,” Jackie opened his eyes, cutting himself off when he felt a breeze flow past him, a saw the seat next to him was empty and money left on the counter.

Jackie just sighed, taking one last swig of his drink before leaving the bar, he should head back home. As he was walking out in the cold night air though, he paused, looking up at tall apartment building. The sight of it sent a chill through his already cold body. He tried to turn away from it, to just keep walking, but everything about it just just spelled dread. As he was looking up at the very top however, his lips began to move. “I will always be a hero,” He muttered. The small sentence seemed to warm his legs enough to urge him to start moving again. He speed walked the entire rest of the way back, repeating his oath over and over to himself as he did.

[pinktacofury]

Three little things.

Hey guys and gals, dipping into the vampire diaries today, figured it would be a good time to get an imagine out. Lurv PTF.

Warnings- Language, Useless Human Elena, nudity,implied smut, twist ending!?

A/n- I only own my OC, I own one of the other people, places, things, gifs or images used in this imagine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Who’s that? You guys look so happy with her.” Elena let her voice drop, she sounded so disappointed at the thought of the Salvatore brothers being happy with someone else.

“That is Miss Avery Maverik, don’t worry she’s been dead for nearly a hundred  and eighty years, no need to be jealous of this one little human.” Damon muttered rubbing his hand over his face with a deep sigh seeming almost distressed with the current topic of conversation as he walked out of the room.

“What’s with Damon? I don’t think I have ever seen him genuinely emotional.” Elena stated holding up the picture of Stephen and Damon with a delicate little southern belle, with long blonde hair in curls, on their arms one of hers threaded through one of theirs.

“He won’t admit it but he was in love with Miss Avery before we even met Catherine, he was going to ask her to marry him, he bought her a little cabin in the woods. They were going to live a real fairytale... only she died before he could ask her.” Stephen murmured running his hand over the back of his neck, he had loved Avery like family, they had bonded very closely... They had been happy, all of them.

“How did she die?” Elena asked tactlessly as she ran her fingers over the picture, specifically over the woman.

“She got very sick, one day her heart just gave out and she died.” Stephen murmured taking the picture from Elena’s hands and gingerly tucking it into one of his many journals, taking note of the date to ensure he could find it again later.

“I’ve seen her somewhere before....” Elena stated as she pulled out her phone, tapping away before holding out the phone to him so he could see the picture.

#Avery Collins #Living Life #Bed Head #Noon

“She changed her last name... Smart really.” Stephen mused sort of in shock as he looked at the picture, it really was Avery and she looked exactly the same as when they had last seen her except her hair was shorter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    Avery yawned slightly as she rolled out of bed to an insistent knocking on her door, she groaned as she trudged down the stairs in an oversized t shirt and her favorite pair of knee high kitten face socks. Pulling the door open rubbing her eyes before her jaw dropped open in shock, before her stood the love of her life and the man she considered her brother... Shock registered slowly throughout her whole body, she thought they died... a long time ago.

“Dae? Stephen? How are you even here?” She murmured softly as she stepped aside admitting the two men.

“Could ask you the same thing.” Damon muttered pulling her tightly into his arms making her squeal slightly at the pressure against her, if she were human she probably would have been crushed.

“I suppose I owe you all an explanation. I had been very sick, deathly ill with what people now know as Brain Cancer, the doctor who had been treating me was a vampire. He gave me his blood and when I died I turned, he whisked me away to new orleans and I couldn’t come back to you, you were human and I wasn’t anymore. Oh I have missed you though.” She smiled as she hugged both men raising a brow as she caught sight of the human behind them, she looked concerned.

“Hi, I’m Elena Gilbert.” The little human murmured as she stepped up offering Avery her hand to shake, which she did with a happy little smile.

“Avery Col.... Maverik technically. Avery Maverik. A pleasure, I think my roommate might have something human to drink in the house... maybe some Tea? Uhmmm water?” Avery murmured as she motioned towards the couches.

“Water would be lovely....” Elena cast a glance at the guys which Avery didn’t miss, the little woman was either smart to be wary or just a skittish mess, Avery couldn’t really decide.

    Avery laughed with the brothers while the little human looked awkward, she made attempts at making her feel welcome but to no avail which made things a little tense as the human seemed to get flustered and jealous. They had barely noticed when she left the house entirely, Avery laughed with the guys, allowed Damon to pull her onto his lap where she could cuddle him comfortably. She was still madly in love with the man she had known so many years ago and it seemed he too felt the same.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     It had taken a few hours but Damon had finally coerced Avery into moving into the boarding house with them, he had helped her pack her things, walked her to the car, helped her into the back seat and sat as close to her as he could without getting them pulled over for no seatbelts. He felt so happy having her there with him, but he also felt sort of betrayed that she had left them, him, behind so easily... he understood that she couldn’t come to them as a new vampire but why not after she had learned to control her thirst?

“When Stephen was still human he was the physical embodiment of chivalry... he once took his coat off and lay it in a puddle so this one belle could walk across without getting her skirts dirty... it was a tiny puddle! She could have walked right around it!” Avery laughed as she sat in front of the fire, between Damon’s legs as he lounged in his leather chair, Elena perched on the arm of Stephens chair with his arm protectively around her waist.

“Pffft that’s nothing! Avery used to go to the river and steal people’s clothes while they swam, nearly half the town was seen naked one time or another!” Stephen laughed as he took a drink of his scotch, Damon remained silent as he ran his fingers through Avery’s hair, he was content although Elena looked thoroughly annoyed that Stephen and Avery were having fun.

“I think I better head home, it’s getting late and I have school tomorrow.” Elena huffed making Damon want to chuckle, he was in heaven and she was in a jealous hell... it was perfect.

“I’ll walk you out.” Stephen murmured standing with her and leaving Damon and Avery alone, reaching down Damon tilted Avery’s gaze to his own, he gently lowered his lips to hers, a brief brushing of his lips against her own before he pulled away smirking as she groaned at him.

“Going to bed!” Avery called before yanking Damon upstairs into his bedroom and tossing him towards the bed before she climbed on top of him, straddling his hips with a wicked grin as she bent down kissing him senseless.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Niklaus Arrives ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

      Avery was bored senseless, the stupid prank night, the Elena drama, something about doppelgangers and a bitch from the boys’ past, Damon and Avery were on the rocks because of the idiot little human... He had chose Elena over Avery, jealousy was something Avery didn’t know how to deal with. Life had been so much easier before moving to Mystic falls. Sipping her drink Avery made her way through the halls ignoring the sounds of fighting up until she heard a familiar voice, one that reminded Avery ver much of her past, into the gymnasium she went stopping dead when she found exactly who she thought she would.

“Niklaus?” She asked softly as she made her way across the floor right into the mans open and waiting arms.

“There is my little Kitten, I wondered where you had strayed to Love.” He chuckled as she tucked herself into his side watching quietly as he dealt with his problems, mainly Stephen.

     With mild interest Avery watched as Niklaus compelled Stephen to turn off his humanity, stunning really the way he became a ripper. The whole night seemed like a royal mess but she didn’t mind, her sire was there and she was happy... After things had gone sour with Damon she had contemplated moving again, she had already packed and everything but now that her sire was there she was going to linger a little longer, at least until he decided to move on as well.

“Do tell Kitten, what have you been up to all this time?” He asked as he walked her to his car where he opened the door for her, she slid into the passenger seat and giggled a little as Stephen slid into the back, now a ripper he had left little miss human without a second thought. Although he was doing it for her it was still funny. Mystic Falls had turned Avery bitter.

“Rekindled an old flame, got abandoned for a pathetic human, became a bitter woman.... The usual.” She shrugged softly as she toyed with the radio in the car, preferring music which was anything but what he listened to.

“Give me his name and I shall kill him for you, love.” Niklaus stated almost casually although the tightening of his hands on the steering wheel told another story.

“Damon Salvatore.” Avery chirped bitterly as she settled on a station and lay her head back in the seat of the car, she told him about the brothers finding her again after he had changed her and about how Damon had chose Elena over her when they had been kidnapped by the sheriff.. all the while he listened patiently, they pulled over in a small town and got out of the car to find someone to eat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

      Klaus growled softly to himself as he felt his pants tightening, Avery looked every bit the angel while she fed from the girl in the alley, her body pressing the girl against the wall while she drained the girl dry. Despite having one hell of an appetite Avery could keep her victims alive if she wanted, she was no ripper of course as she prefered to leave the bodies intact but when she killed it was a sight to behold indeed, blood stained her lips, her victim fell limply at her feet and her smile.... could brighten even the darkest room. Just as the light began to fade Niklaus asked Avery to pose for him as he painted, the light shone off her hair like a halo, her skin was flawless and she was simply too cute to ignore... Especially as she posed only for him... Maybe he was selfish, or maybe it was something else.

“Why did you Sire me Niklaus?” Avery asked out of the blue causing Klaus to pause mid stroke and look up at her, she remained sexily draped in the arms of the granite statue but she looked directly at him now instead of dramatically at the sky, her expression troubled.

“You were, so young and stunningly beautiful, I couldn’t stand the thought of the world losing such a rare muse.” He stated watching as she turned her head back to the sky humming at his answer, he couldn’t tell if she found in his answer what she wanted.

“Is that pathetic little human really that great? She smells constantly of tears and failure.” Avery sighed and Klaus could tell that Damon’s betrayal had shaken her to her core, no matter how much she tried to play it off.

“I need her to sire Hybrids. They need her because they remind them of the Katherine they once knew before she exposed her secret. She’s only useful dead.” Klaus shrugged before adding. “No she isn’t that great, you should consider my offer. Be mine, I would never choose anyone over you.” He murmured referring to that night so many years ago when he had asked her to be his while they drank dry a village in what is now called Papua New Guinea, she had brushed if off as too much Indonesian food.

“I hadn’t thought you were serious Niklaus... There was blood, screams, it was all so intense, I figured it was just the atmosphere.” She chuckled a little as she looked over at him to catch him smirking.

“I meant every word of it, I will admit seeing you drenched in villager blood was and still is the most attractive thing I have ever seen.” He chuckled as he placed the finishing touches on the painting, smiling as he motioned for her to come to his side once more with his arm held out for her.

“is that really how you see me?” She asked as she looked down at the painting while tucked into his side, before her sat a stunning painting of her as an angel draped over his own arms, she looked dramatically up at him while her wings hung down towards the grown barely brushing the floor, he looked down at her adoringly as he held her.

“Be mine Kitten.” He murmured against her hair as he kissed the top of her head, she turned in his arms looking up at him as she gently placed her lips against his, tentatively as if he were going to deny her the simple motion of affection.

[empress-of-snark]

(who made that header? @caseyblu)

CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE FIRST AVENGER (2011)

AKA: The 90-year-old virgin.

(Spoilers for this movie ((and a tiny bit for Winter Soldier)) -- pretty sure that absolutely no one is reading these, but we’re still gonna make ‘em cause it’s fun!)

Again, it’s been a loong time since I watched this one, and there’s a lot of things I forgot. I’m hoping that the rewatch will make me care more about Bucky in later movies, because honestly, there was such a gap between me watching this movie and me seeing Winter Soldier for the first time, that I barely remembered who Bucky was. But it’s refreshing seeing him young and attractive, and not looking like an emo trash can.

Like Thor with its mythology, I like that this movie has a really different aesthetic to it than anything else in the MCU--it’s a period piece. I love all the costumes and music and the general vintage atmosphere. Normally, I really don’t like war movies, but this one is an obvious exception.

Right off the bat though, I don’t think it needed both mysterious opening scenes. First, we see Steve’s shield/plane being recovered from the ice, then it cuts to Schmidt getting ahold of the Tesseract in Norway. We both agreed that the first scene just wasn’t necessary. For one thing, it spoils the ending of the movie a little bit, since we now know that Steve is probably trapped in the ice somehow, and for another, we know that he’ll probably be okay. It kind of undercuts the emotional intensity of his goodbye to Peggy. So I think leading with Schmidt would’ve been a better call.

That being said, it’s nice to finally see a hero that starts off with a more heroic personality. While I enjoy Tony and Thor’s journeys of character development, Steve is actually a genuinely great guy right at the beginning--all he lacks is the confidence and strength to be a real hero (although he is already pretty gutsy, getting into alley fights with guys twice his size). One of my favorite scenes is, of course, the grenade test, when he unthinkingly attempts to sacrifice himself for everyone else in the camp. It’s just a really great display of character.

I love the Steve/Peggy romance mostly for the fact that she clearly likes him before he gets hot. It would be easy to fall in love with post-serum Steve, but Peggy really appreciates the guy underneath. Their romance grows naturally out of friendship, in a way that not many other Marvel romances do.

A valid critique that my brother had is that the villain is just… entirely unsympathetic. He’s a literal Nazi with no real motivations other than the cliche desire for power. It’s not very complex. There’s nothing really wrong with having a straight-up evil villain to root against, but I think a bit more moral ambiguity makes for a better story. No one’s 100% evil, just like no one’s 100% good. I like my heroes flawed and my villains complicated and possibly redeemable.

Which is why (and I hate to say this), Steve Rogers isn’t always the most interesting hero. I love him, don’t get me wrong! He’s great but, especially in this first movie, he’s just such a boy scout and can almost do no wrong. His moments of rebellion for the greater good are awesome, but the rest of the time he’s a little stagnant. I think this improves in later movies when he gets a bit more bitter and sarcastic.

Maybe their characterizations stem from the fact that this is set in the 40’s, when fictional heroes and villains were a bit more black and white. Maybe Marvel wanted to reflect that a little with a really good hero and a really evil villain, I dunno.

Anyway, Stanley Tucci is, as always, an underappreciated treasure as the kind Dr. Erksine, and Tommy Lee Jones is gruff and commanding as ever. This movie’s got some really good supporting characters.

Altogether, a thoroughly enjoyable watch--Cap, it’s been too long.

RANKINGS:

(Quick note--we realize that for the past four movies, we’ve been a bit generous with the ratings. We’ve kind of just been looking at them as movies and not Marvel movies. Marvel’s standards are better than most, so we’re gonna start being a bit harsher. Just a warning!)

     Hero: 7.5 shields out of 10. Even if he’s close to perfect, it’s just so easy to root for Steve Rogers, especially as the tiny pre-serum bean that he is at the beginning. He doesn’t really go through much character development, but it’s because he starts off great so there’s really no place to go with that.

     Villain: 5 Hydra heads out of 10. Again, Nazi. Really, Schmidt is just kind of there, and he’s evil. And he yells at his subordinates. Props to Marvel for making a villain that’s really easy to root against, but he’s not super interesting.

     Supporting characters: 7 army generals out of 10. This includes Dr. Erksine, Col. Phillips, Peggy, Bucky, and Dr. Zola. For a bunch of characters that we don’t really see again (or at least, if we do, they’re evil computers, brainwashed soldiers, or just really really old), Marvel did a good job at fleshing them out nicely.            Female characters: 4 Bechdels out of 10, and all four of those points are for Peggy. She’s a really great character, but she’s the only female character of significance, aside from Natalie Dormer, who basically sexually assaulted Steve and then disappeared. Goes without saying that this one didn’t pass the Bechdel test.

     Action scenes: 6 punches out of 10. It’s always nice to see Nazis being beaten up/vaporized, but the action scenes aren’t really the focus of this one.

      Stan Lee: 3 cameos out of 5. “I thought he’d be taller.” Good funny moment, fits in well with the plot. It feels a little more obvious than others, maybe cause he usually doesn’t talk, but solid cameo nonetheless.

     Charisma: 7 points out of 10. The movie has a very consistent aesthetic and tone. Themes of what it means to be a hero run throughout, but never overpower the story.

In total: 39.5 out of 65, about 60%. It feels a little too harsh, but most points are being deducted from its lack of female characters and boring villain. Rotten Tomatoes score was 79%.

[sociallyawkwardfoxwriter]

Write for 365: Day 39

The Realities of Us Part Two

“How have you been?” Despite knowing Steph genuinely wanted to know, Tim couldn’t help the little sigh that slipped from his lips at the all too familiar question. “Don’t act like that. I’ve given you your space and didn’t bug you all night. I’m worried about you.”

“Everyone is worried about me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t get tired of that question.”

“Maybe if you talked to us more, we wouldn’t be so worried about you. I know it’s been a rough couple of weeks and you needed your space to come to terms with everything, but there comes a point where you’re just hurting yourself.”

“We want to help you, but we can’t do that when you’re ignoring us.”

“I know. It’s just… Why would they leave her to me? I’m the worst possible choice. You and Cass could’ve given her a great home or Bart and Jaime. I’m a workaholic that barely has enough time to take care of myself. How am I supposed to take care of her?”

“You agreed to be her godfather.”

Tears prickled at his eyes as he fought to maintain control of his frayed emotions wanting to burst out. “Do you really think I forgot that? It was one of the happiest days of my life, but I wasn’t thinking that a few months later they’d be gone. I wasn’t prepared for this.”

“No one was. It came out of nowhere and it hurt, but you’re not alone in this. We want to help you. Let us help you.”

“Okay. I’m sorry. I’ve been-”

“Don’t. There’s no need to apologize. You’re tired and you’ve been under a lot of stress. Let’s get back to your apartment, make some tea, and talk. Sound good?”

“Yes.”

A sudden banging echoed from the alleyway they were passing, immediately setting off Tim’s instincts and he reached for the gun he always had on him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“My job. Stay with her. I’ll be right back.”

Before Steph could argue with him, he moved further into the alley with his gun at the ready and his eyes prepared to catch any sign of movement. When his eyes noticed a person shaped lump not far from him, he picked up the pace and instinctively glanced up. The Bats had a habit of leaving criminals for the police to find, but he’d never heard of them dropping them off the side of buildings. He quickly moved his eyes to the motionless body and dropped to his knees next to his-keeping in mind they might not be as unconscious as they appeared.

To his surprise, he recognized the red helmet covering the person’s head and the grey body armor upon turning them over. Tentatively, he ran his hands over the armor in search of any potential injuries that might explain how the Red Hood ended up here. Something warm and sticky stuck to his fingers as he ran them over the Hood’s left side, so he leaned over to get a better look at the wound marring his side. The lack of light made it difficult to see much, but a faint outline of where the armor had torn gave him a pretty decent idea of how bad it was. Getting him some kind of aid quickly could make the difference between life and death.

After attempting to shake him awake failed, he slid his arm underneath his gigantic body and managed to get them both up. Between his armor and having nearly a foot on him, the Hood nearly sent them both toppling over as added bodyweight caused Tim to lose his balance. He managed to regain it in time to prevent them from ending up on the ground once again and tightened his grip on the Hood’s waist. The walk out of the alley was slow and he kept having to adjust his hold, but he still managed to get them out of there.

“Tim?” Steph’s eyes went wide as she stared at the man leaning heavily against them. “Isn’t that the Red Hood?”

“Yes.”

“What are you doing with him?”

“Taking him to my apartment to patch him up.”

“He’s not like the other Bats, Tim. He’s dangerous.”

“He beats up pimps and drug lords and rapists and there’s hole in his side. I think I can handle him.”

“This is reckless.”

“For once, can we not argue about my life choices?”

“Fine.”

Previous | Next

Write for 365 Collection

[justauthoring]

To Save You

Prompt: Could you do a murphy imagine where he gets upset when he came back from COL to find out y/n is taken by Mount w?

A/N: Here is the next part! I know ‘Feigning the Connection’ was suppose to come out today, but I already had this done and today was a crazily busy today, so instead of having nothing up today I decided ot just post this. Feigning the Connection will be up tomorrow!

Pairing: Murphy x Reader

Warnings: none.

Let me know what you thought. Same as always i will not continue this if no one wants me to.   

There was a knock on the door, though you weren’t sure why, it wasn’t as if you’d be able to open the door. With frustration and a heavy sigh, you pull against the restraints that kept your arm at bay (unfortunately.) You could also scream in frustration. You hadn’t been lock up like this since your days in the skybox, and you could say with a straight face you definitely did not miss those days.

There was another knock, albeit louder this time. Frustrated, you turned to the door, you knew he could see you. And from what you guessed, he’d caught Bellamy, though you weren’t sure if he knew who Bellamy was or not. But estimating from the fact that you hadn’t heard any grunts and yells of anger and indignation, you were almost positive that Bellamy had gotten away this time, luckily. But you could bet that this Cage guy was most definitely suspicious.

Rather than answering the knock that was only there to prove the lack of freedom you had, you glared and continued trying to break your wrist from the literal lock and chain that kept it tied to the bed. Not soon after you continued did you hear the squeak of the door sound about and footsteps follow not long after. “Hello Y/N,” was followed shortly after.

You chose to ignore the spike of fear that seemed to stab at you and rather, with a defiant glare you turned to look at the man who’d only taunted you since waking up in this god forsaken white room. “I’m sorry about the guard before, you’re not allowed to have visitors.” There was an underlying message, and with a squint you tried to ignore the way his eyes turned dangerously on you. You chose to remain silent. Cage’s eyes drifted to your wrist that had began to bleed gruesomely upon your struggles. “Ah, what a shame. You’ve gotten blood on your beautiful white dress. You should really be more careful, Y/N.”

You’d barely even noticed the stain, but looking down, surely enough your blood coated the white palette with a small streak. Shaking your head, you turned back towards your captor. “Maybe you should have never locked me up like this, then.” You spat back. You watched for his reaction, slightly scared but you sucked in a deep breath when he made his way towards you. You leaned back as he leaned over you and pulled out a key, you watched with guarded eyes as he unlocked the chain and your restraint fell with a loud clank.

“We’re going on a walk, come on.” He grabbed your wrist, making you gasp as he yanked you upwards. You wobbled slightly, it’d been days since you’ve been able to use your legs and honestly they felt like jello.

With a shaky voice, unlike the confidence you’d been feigning since you appeared here, you asked; “where are we going?”

“On a tour.”

You followed behind the man who had taken your freedom away, staring at the dress he’d adorned on you know. Cage fussed that you must be clean or else all wouldn’t be right, dragged you into a closet and shoved a dress at you, saying this is what pretty girls like you wore. He creeped you out and disgusted you as well as scared you all at once. But there was nothing you could do as you followed behind him obediently. You kept your eyes out of Bellamy or anyone you might now as he strolled you through the place.

It was huge and well-furnished. There was hundreds of people all civilized. You felt less important compared to them all and you couldn’t help but notice the stares they faced on you and the amount of guarded looks you received. You felt like their prey and you hated the feeling. Even when being faced with the grounders they’d never scared you this much. But there was just something about the people here and everything they did and stand for.

Not to mention this place was huge, your ‘tour’ had only proven to you how difficult it’d be to actually escape. Of course you had faith in Bellamy but with having to save all your friends, which you’d made clear that they came first, you felt as if you were slightly on your own. You’d planned to gain Cage’s trust enough he’d let you roam free a bit more and you could possibly map the sheer size of this place, learn all the little crooks and alleys that you could make your escape with. It would take a while, but you’re willing to wait that long. You only hoped that nothing would happen to you in the midst of it all.

A hand grabbed your wrist, pulling you out of your thoughts. Turning to Cage who gripped your hand, you turned to him expectantly and found yourself in a new room. “This is the cafeteria. I have some business to attend to, should only take a few minutes. Get yourself something to eat.” Cage ordered and you had the right mind not to snap at him for thinking he could boss you around. You needed his trust, not to mention… looking around, you suddenly realized how hungry you actually were. You nodded, stepping forward to find a plate of food but the hand on your wrist suddenly tightened and you were pulled back against a chest. You gasped, not expecting the sudden movement and again you tried to ignore the spike of fear that stabbed at you.

Grabbing his hand which painfully twisted against you and held you there, you tried not to whimper. “I expect you to be here when I get back. Understand?” He questioned, nodding you tried to keep come. The hand the grip you let go and you were gently shoved forward. Turning, you rubbed your wrist and watched him walk out of the room.

You let your eyes wander over the room. Your eyes immediately found the food and all sudden anxiousness of being alone was lost. You begin to make your way over to the table of food before a voice caught your attention; “Y/N!” You jumped, fearing it was Cage but turning you only saw the familiar face of Jasper running towards you. You felt your heart leap knowing he was okay, and not soon after seeing him you saw Monty trailing behind him. A smile quickly graced your features as you ran forward to your friends.

You were always so concerned for everyone on the ground, especially these two because you knew how reckless they could get. When you reached them, you grabbed Jasper’s face, scanning for injuries and then moving on to Monty. “Are you guys okay? Oh my, I was so concerned! I’m so happy you all are okay!” You felt tears brimming at your eyes but you chose to ignore it. Monty and Jasper only responded by engulfing you in a hug which you graciously accepted.

“Y/N, there’s an issue. We’re in danger, you’re in danger.” Jasper quickly explained. You shook your head; “I know. Bellamy and I came in here to help you after Clarke returned. We had some difficulties coming in but Bellamy was able to get in. Did he come to find you?”

“Yes, we’ve seen Bellamy.” Monty answered.

“Y/N, they’re trying to get our bone marrow. You need to come with us.” Jasper explained, grabbing your wrist. You were quick to stop him, shaking your head. Leaning forward, you lowered your voice. “I can’t. Cage is expecting me to be here.”

Jasper furrowed his brows and Monty shook his head, concerned and confused. “Cage? I don’t understand, why are you with him?”

You shook your head; “I don’t know. He just… has this weird obsess-” A hand fell on your shoulder, effectively stopping your voice. Freezing you straightened out, and closed your eyes. “You’re suppose to being eating, Y/N.” Cage monotone voice echoed, Jasper’s eyes widened and you all froze. Shaking your head slowly at them, you reminded them not to do anything. A hand wound around your waist and you were dragged off again; “we mustn’t keep you hungry.”

[dotshiiki]

CoL, Chpt 10

X: ANNABETH

Annabeth opened her eyes to find herself in Percy's arms.

For one second, her heart went spinning in giddy cartwheels. Then she remembered that they were deep in Tartarus, facing a horde of demon curse spirits.

Except the arai were gone. And although Annabeth's body ached as if she'd just run a marathon, scaled ten of Camp Half-Blood's lava walls, and wrestled a giant to boot, she was alive. Her shirt reeked of her own blood, reminding her of the curses she'd invoked. A knife in the back from the empousa. A spear through the gut from the giant Enceladus. Bruises blossomed where a sticky filament had wrapped itself around her neck—a gift from Arachne, no doubt.

It was a miracle she'd survived.

The others didn't look much better. Thalia's clothes were drenched in blood, the fabric pierced a thousand times over. Nico looked like he'd taken a tumble into a sooty fireplace. Will lay unconscious by his side, though his body bore no visible injury.

Percy was the only one who seemed unharmed. His jaw was set in a hard line. In his hand, he gripped Riptide so tightly, his knuckles were white.

Nico shook Will. 'What happened?' he demanded. 'Did he get cursed, too? What was it?'

Percy let go of Annabeth and took a step back. 'The demons couldn't hurt either of us. We got rid of them. And then he healed all of you.'

Nico swore and dug into Will's pack. 'Over-exertion, then. Exactly what he's always nagging me about.'

He dribbled bottled Phlegethon into Will's mouth. Will came to with a violent cough.

'You idiot!' Nico scolded. 'After all that crap you gave me about taking on too much, I swear—'

Will groaned and raised a hand to his head. 'What was I supposed to do, let you guys die?'

'How did you avoid getting cursed?' Thalia asked.

'They couldn't find curses for either of us,' Percy said. 'I guess Will never killed anybody.' His eyes narrowed. 'And they said I was already cursed. That you cursed me.'

Although he looked around all four of them as he said this, the you stabbed Annabeth like a dagger hurled unerringly into her chest. In a controlled, even tone that didn't quite mask an undercurrent of anger, Percy repeated the words that the arai had spoken to him.

Annabeth remembered then the last curse the arai had bestowed upon her: an invisible force that had flung her away from the group—away from Percy. Retribution from Hipponoe: may you never be loved again!

The arai had cackled most gleefully at that, probably because they'd realised there wasn't much they could add to that curse.

'You guys are gonna explain what they meant.' Percy pointed to Will with Riptide. 'And why you didn't deny it. You promised.'

'I did,' Will said weakly. He looked at Annabeth. 'You should tell him. All of it.'

Annabeth swallowed hard. Percy's eyes bore into her, harsh as a tempestuous ocean storm. Where did she begin? All of it, Will said, but what did that mean? Their entire history—the one Percy hadn't wanted to hear?

Or the part that was all her fault? Her hubris, her decision, her mistakes.

The part that might make Percy hate her.

You will never be loved again! No, she certainly didn't need the arai to deliver that curse.

'Well?' Percy said. 'Are you gonna to tell me who wiped my memory and why?'

Annabeth opened her mouth to begin. But before she could speak, a sly, sibilant voice emerged from the gloom.

'Oh, but why would she do that? Misunderstanding is so perfect for sowing discord!'

The speaker appeared from the edge of the forest. Her body, draped with a black toga, was so thin that Annabeth almost mistook her for one of the slender trees, spouting branches of hissing vipers from her head. Entwined in her snaky locks were scarlet ribbons, flowing from a blood-soaked headband that held her dishevelled bangs clear of her malicious crimson eyes.

'Lovely,' she said, surveying them with the cold, callous smile of a psychopath. 'You're already halfway there.'

Percy levelled Riptide at her. 'Get lost. This is between me and them.'

'Ah, but it has everything to do with me, too. Surely you don't mean to have a dispute without the goddess of strife?'

'You're Eris,' Annabeth breathed.

The goddess turned her malevolent gaze on Annabeth. In her gleaming eyes, Annabeth saw visions of brothers running each other through with swords, husbands throttling their wives…her own mother, Athena, reduced to petty arguments with her fellow Olympian goddesses.

'Yes, indeed. I have sparked the bloodiest wars in history! My children spread discord throughout the world. I am the mother of hardship, pain, lies…' She grew taller as she spoke, shooting up towards the canopy until she towered over them. 'Quarrels and disputes! Murders and anarchy! These are all my children! And so, my dear demigods, what bitterness can I sow among you today?'

'Forget it,' snapped Thalia. 'We're not interested in fighting. Unless it's fighting you.'

Eris touched her index finger to the tip of a poniard—a small, slim dagger—in her hand. 'Such complacence. Do not forget—it was I who created the golden apple that precipitated the Trojan War. I have broken up couples who boasted of loving each other more than Zeus and Hera!'

Thalia snorted. 'That's not saying much.'

'Will you put me to the test, then, daughter of Zeus?' Eris brought her poniard down as if to stab Thalia. Percy stepped forward and met the dagger with Riptide.

'Will you defend them, then, Perseus Jackson?' Eris hissed. 'The ones who lied to you, who are responsible for your current affliction—oh yes, I see clearly that you bear the curse of one of my daughters.'

She breathed out her words in a mist of red fog that wrapped itself around Percy. He lowered Riptide.

'Don't listen to her, Percy!' Nico drew his own sword. But instead of attacking, Eris stabbed her poniard into the ground. Fissures spread from its point, carving lines in the earth that ran between the five of them.

The red mist descended over Annabeth's head. Shadowy images swirled in it, resolving into a movie reel of every annoying thing her friends had ever done. Thalia smirked at her in front of a row of archery targets—'Get used to playing for second from now on!' Nico scowled and flung a pack of Mythomagic cards at her head, snapping, 'If you're so smart, why didn't you figure out how to save Bianca?' Will appeared in the doorway of cabin six, which she'd turned upside down in a frantic search, holding up her laptop with a sheepish grin. 'Connor made me take it…I lost a bet with him.'

Every urge she'd ever had to throttle them surged into her head, staining her vision a deeper, bloodier red. A snarl escaped her mouth, directed at Will, whose eyes reflected a slow burn back at her.

'This is almost too easy,' Eris said, her voice brimming with amusement. Thalia and Nico were already duelling sword to bow across the rift between them. Percy's murderous gaze vacillated between Will and Annabeth, as though he was undecided as to which of them he should attack first.

Eris didn't intend to kill them herself. No, she was much more enamoured of making them kill each other.

'Not much sport in provoking natural enemies, is there?' Eris mused. 'The daughter of Zeus and the son of Hades—bah, too easy.' She fixed her sadistic, glittering eyes on Annabeth and Percy. 'Ah yes, the biggest challenge. Coming between even the most dedicated of lovers.'

A cold chill trickled down Annabeth's spine. She wanted to draw her sword and run it through Eris, but she was afraid if she tried, she might end up attacking her friends instead. Or worse, Percy.

Eris's fog thickened around her with a vengeance. Its tendrils squeezed her chest like it was trying to wring hatred and anger from her heart. Eris's voice dripped poisonous honey in her ears: He decided you were worth forgetting. He chose an empousa over you. Doesn't that make you just livid?

The image of Percy wrapped around Bella in the alley in Phoenix flashed tauntingly at her. It blended into other wounds, old hurts that she thought she'd gotten over long ago: Percy laughing with Rachel as they drove down a winding beach road; Percy holding hands with the gorgeous Calypso on a paradise island.

Darker memories emerged and floated to the surface. She saw Percy facing Luke on the Williamsburg Bridge, cold green meeting malevolent gold. 'Can't you see he's evil, Annabeth? He's Kronos, through and through.' She saw a sinister shadow in Percy's face as he brought Riptide down in a murderous arc. Wild mania burned in his eyes as he raised a whirlwind of poison.

How dare he frighten you? How dare he turn into what he set out to fight?

There were many things that had made her so mad with him. Her blood boiled with every image Eris showed her, rage roaring through her veins and pounding in her ears. It wasn't an unfamiliar feeling. Another memory surfaced—a time when she'd been royally pissed off at him, although she couldn't even recall why.

'I'm so mad at you!' she'd yelled.

'Okay,' he'd said, very seriously. 'I'm sorry.'

'Do you even know what you're apologising for?'

'Not really. But I love you. So I'm sorry I made you mad.'

The mist blew apart. Annabeth looked straight into Eris's amazed face.

Eris wanted her to focus on the anger, on the parts of Percy that had ignited her wrath, but a person wasn't just made of one part. You loved them whole—the good and the bad.

And with Percy, the things that infuriated her about him were often the same things she loved about him. It had been that way right from the beginning, when he had returned to her despite her explicit instructions to leave, in order to fight off three Furies closing in on her.

She saw Percy making her stop in the forum even though they were already late for class, because he just had to offer a denari to the fauns by the fountain.

Percy halting their run for a disoriented tourist on the street—'What's the harm, Annabeth, they just need directions,'—right before the werecat threw off its disguise and tried to sink fangs into his neck.

Percy charging headlong into a fight after she'd explicitly told him to stay back. 'This wasn't the plan, Percy!'

'Screw the plan, it's not like our plans ever work!'

Percy trying to send her to safety, even if that meant he had to stay behind in Tartarus.

How she hated the way he trusted people when he shouldn't, the way he never listened and always screwed up her plans, the way he was so infuriatingly loyal; but how she loved him for it. And what she would give to have that Percy back!

The cry that escaped her mouth was half-exasperation, half-laughter. The choking anger subsided. The mist was receding, being pushed further away from her. It was like a dam had burst, releasing a flood of memories—good ones, to overwhelm the bitterness and resentment with waves of love.

Strolling hand in hand down the Via Praetoria in perfect, contented silence. A kiss under the Eiffel Tower. Lazy Sunday mornings curled up in bed.

She drew deeper within herself, concentrating on every precious memory she had of love—not just for Percy, but her friends, too. Years ago, in the Temple of Fear, Piper had taught her to focus her thoughts around a single emotion. Annabeth did so now, calling upon her love for her friends—everything about them, good and bad. She pictured Thalia laughing and spinning her around at an old school dance in Brooklyn ('Who needs guys for a good dance?') Will holding her hand in the Plaza Hotel as he bandaged her shoulder ('You're gonna be fine, Annabeth. Percy's coming now.') Nico standing by Hestia's hearth, meeting her hand in a high five ('I'm happy for you guys.')

Like a golden ray of sunlight, her thoughts wound through Eris's discordant fog, beaming a path to her friends. When it touched them, the ugly expressions on their faces turned to surprise. Thalia and Nico dropped their battle and stared at each other, bewildered. Will fell to his knees, gasping as the red fog lifted from him. A silvery light reached out and twined with her golden one. Annabeth saw herself with Will, racing through the woods at Camp Half-Blood with a blue flag held aloft between them. They splashed across the creek and shared a grin as the flag turned grey and gold—a team victory.

And then Thalia and Nico joined the battle, too, adding more visions of their friendship. Annabeth watched herself drape a blanket over a younger Nico. She saw Thalia pull her into a tight hug and whisper in her ear, 'You'll always be family to me, Annabeth.'

Triumph surged through Annabeth's heart. They could fight this. Eris wasn't going to win.

Then she looked at the goddess of strife and her heart plummeted.

Eris had relinquished the four of them, but her attention was fully focused on Percy. Her long, clawed nails rested on Percy's shoulder as she whispered into his ear. The mist that they had forced away from themselves swirled exclusively around Percy—the only one of them who hadn't added to the collection of good memories.

Because he didn't have any.

Without his memories, what strength did Percy have to fight Eris's powers? What could he draw on to resist the strife she induced?

Percy let out a cry of inchoate rage. He raised Riptide high above his head and stabbed the sword down, plunging it straight into the rift Eris's poniard had already made in the ground. The cracks deepened, cutting a jagged line through the earth. It created a fissure that separated Thalia and Nico, who were nearest the cliff edge, from the rest.

And then the ground beneath them collapsed. For a brief moment, their feet scrambled for purchase, finding none. Will lunged forward to grab Nico's hand. Annabeth stumbled towards them, tripped, and landed flat on her stomach. Her arms reached uselessly into the empty air where her friends had been a second ago.

Her mind refused initially to register what had happened. Thalia, Nico, and Will couldn’t have disappeared into that black chasm.

Except they had. Just like that, they were gone, leaving her with Eris and Percy.

Percy.

Annabeth rolled over onto her back. Percy stood over her, sword raised, his eyes glowing red and Eris's mist settling over him like a vengeful cloak. Annabeth stared up at him, frozen with horror. How could she fight? Even if she could bring herself to battle Percy, he was an incredibly powerful demigod. When he took full control of that power, it was as terrifying as it was wonderful. Annabeth remembered the times she had seen him like this: standing over her on the Williamsburg Bridge to face Kronos's army single-handedly, commanding a hurricane in the middle of Central Park against the onslaught of Hyperion, glowing as brightly as his father as they charged down Otis and Ephialtes in the Parthenon.

And the last time they had been in Tartarus—slaying Arachne, choking the goddess Akhlys with her own poison.

Only now, his wrath was directed at Annabeth.

'Percy, please—'

Behind him, Eris cackled with glee. 'Everything that befell you, it was her fault! She stole your memories and lied to you! Doesn't that make you so angry?'

'I'm so mad at you,' Percy intoned.

Annabeth swallowed. 'I'm sorry.'

'She doesn't mean it. She—'

'Sorry,' Percy repeated. 'Because you did lie to me? You did steal my memories?'

'Because I failed to protect you.' His image blurred through her tears. 'I'm sorry I failed you. I love you.'

For a moment, the red in his eyes seemed to flicker with its original green. But Percy kept his stance, Riptide hanging like a guillotine over her head.

'I'm sorry,' she said again. 'I never meant to hurt you.' And while she waited for the blade to fall, she told him, 'I love you, no matter what.'

She wanted that to be the last thing she ever said.

Annabeth closed her eyes. She felt the whoosh of Riptide swinging through the air.

The blow didn't come. Instead, Eris gave a blood-curdling screech.

Annabeth blinked.

Percy had run Eris through with his sword. His eyes were no longer red, but the bloody mist still clung to him. His face was set in the same fierce, hard expression. He stared at the ashy fragments of the goddess, breathing heavily.

'I don't know what's the truth,' he said to her remains, 'but I do know it's not what you're telling me.'

The pieces of Eris didn't reply. A faint breeze curled around them and swept what was left of her over the cliff. Her angry fog faded into the chasm. Annabeth crawled to the drop-off, where the darkness that had swallowed her friends reproached her.

They're gone. They're gone and you failed to save them. Just like you failed Percy.

'Thalia!' she screamed.

There was no answer, no indication that her voice even managed to travel into the chasm below. The darkness seemed to absorb all sound. Percy joined her in yelling their friends' names, but their voices sounded tinny and weak.

Percy swore. 'It's my fault. I—I killed them.'

Annabeth turned to him. His face was pale and gaunt, his eyes hollow with self-loathing. The sight of him taking the soul-crushing guilt upon himself ripped into her heart like an arai's curse.

'No,' she told him firmly. 'That was Eris. She twisted your mind—she played with all of our minds.'

He shook his head. 'I shouldn't have been persuaded. I should've known she was lying, just playing with me. You're all here because of me! And I…oh gods…'

She couldn't let Percy take this on himself. Especially when the real finger of blame should be pointing at her.

'Eris got to you because she was telling the truth, sort of. Your memories—the empousa getting her hands on you—it was our fault. My fault,' she admittted. 'So it's me you should be blaming. I'm the one that got you into this whole mess.'

Percy's eyes widened. 'What are you saying?'

Annabeth pushed herself to her feet. Her entire body was trembling so hard, even her teeth chattered. But she made herself speak.

She told him everything. From the attack by Hipponoe, who wanted revenge on her for killing Joe Bob, to her decision to use the Lethe, to the mistake she'd made with the nepenthe and his subsequent disappearance after they'd fed him the potion.

When she finished, Percy was silent for a long time, his mouth drawn in a hard line.

'You should've told me,' he said finally.

Annabeth looked down. 'We—I wanted to, but at first…you already hated me. You thought we were all lying to you. If you knew I was responsible for your memory loss, too…And then when everything started to get better, I wasn't sure if bringing it up would just hurt you more. I didn't want to make you stop trusting everyone again.'

'Maybe I would've appreciated the honesty.'

'I'm sorry.'

Percy nodded. His eyes softened. 'So am I. I guess I didn't really make it easy for you either. And for what it's worth, it kinda sounds like I might've gotten myself into all of this.'

'Percy, you took a curse meant for me.'

'That wasn't your fault.'

'It was my stupid pride—' She choked on a rising sob.

'It sounds like I chose to do it,' Percy said mildly. 'I guess I was—we were—well.' His mouth twisted wryly. She remembered the question he'd finally asked her the night before they left for Tartarus, the one she'd found herself unable to answer because he'd used the past tense, as if it were a piece of history that would never again be true. Were you my girlfriend?

Then he said, in a tone that filled her with hope, 'You must've been hurting so much all this time. I'm sorry. I wish I could remember. I—I don't like hurting you.'

Annabeth swallowed hard. 'It's okay. Maybe you'll still get your memories back down here. Even if we have to go to the edge of Chaos.'

'Even if we don't…' Percy looked at her hesitantly. 'Well, maybe we could start over. I wouldn't mind giving it a try. You and me.'

You and me. The glimmer of hope swelled in her chest.

'We have to save you first,' she reminded him. 'And the others. They have to be alive.' She refused to accept the alternative.

Percy looked dubiously over the cliff. 'I can sense water,' he said. 'Right at the bottom. Maybe Nico did that thing he did when we fell in here.'

'Shadow travel.'

'Can we climb down?'

Annabeth considered it. They'd made it down a cliff face in Tartarus before. It had been treacherous enough when they could see the handholds. Here in the Dark Lands, they would be feeling blindly for every crevice.

Before they could make a decision, something in Percy's pocket jerked. He pulled out the bronze compass. Its triangle pattern winked like a firefly in twilight, pointing north along the cliff's edge. It seemed to have acquired a life of its own, tugging Percy's hand in that direction.

Annabeth and Percy exchanged a look.

'I guess we follow,' Annabeth said.

Under the compass's insistent direction, they skirted the edge of the cliff. The terrain sloped gently downwards. After a while, Annabeth heard a gurgling below their feet, like a rush of water flowing through rock. She imagined a river cutting its way through an underground gorge, pouring out of a cavern beneath them. Maybe this path would eventually wind down to the bottom.

Please let the others be there.

The cliff face curved to the left. As soon as they followed it round, they seemed to pass out of the inky night into a foggy dawn. The sky was lighter and the air weighed less, no longer settling heavily on her shoulders as it had a moment ago.

Then Annabeth realised with a chill that this was because their bodies no longer had as much substance for the air to press down on. Percy looked like he had after drinking the nepenthe, smoky and insubstantial, like he was formed entirely of thick fog. Judging from the translucent quality of her own fingers, she probably didn't look much better.

Sprouting along their ghostly feet were patches of brightly-coloured flowers that were utterly incongruent with the dismal landscape. Something about this path was eerily familiar.

Ahead, the cliff jutted out like a peninsula over a churning black void. A lone figure stood on it, veiled in shadow. The one thing that stood out was a pinprick of golden-bronze light. Their bronze compass strained towards its round, bright point.

'It's her,' Annabeth said. 'The empousa.'

'What's that black stuff?' Percy asked, sounding simultaneously fascinated and repulsed. 'Where are we?'

Annabeth looked again at his smoky appearance, the way the contours of his body blended into the air like a shroud of nothingness had been flung over him.

The verge of final death, hissed the echo of a voice that haunted her nightmares. Here, you are closer to nothingness than any mortal has ever been.

She should have guessed that the compass would lead them here. If the empousa was after Percy's soul, she would come here, to the place where his memories had washed out.

'The edge of Chaos,' she whispered.

Percy's eyes widened until he looked more ghostly than ever, a pair of green eyes staring out of the gloom.

'Come on,' Annabeth said.

She felt the pull of Chaos before they got there. The air was impossibly thin, as if its molecules had been sucked away into a hungry vacuum. Annabeth's lungs felt like they had been ironed out onto a two-dimensional board. Weightless as her limbs were, moving was a challenge. She had to glide rather than step forward on her legs.

At least the wishbone charm on her bracelet still felt solid. She hoped it meant she'd still be able to wield her sword. They'd be disadvantaged enough facing the empousa here without losing the use of their weapons.

The empousa didn't seem to notice their approach. She was focused on the black hole before her. In her hands was a compass like Percy's. The light they had seen was shining from it, a weak beam travelling into Chaos.

Or so Annabeth thought, until she realised that the light was actually travelling in the opposite direction. The empousa was drawing a misty substance out of the void.

Next to her, Percy stumbled. He clapped one hand to his back—the same spot that had pained him before Annabeth had given him the bronze compass.

'Percy!' She grabbed his shoulder, thankful to find his physical form still holding despite his ghostly appearance.

'I'm—fine—' he gritted out. 'It's her—'

The empousa turned. Unlike Annabeth and Percy, she looked perfectly solid, untouched by the veil of nothingness that clung to them. The glow of her compass set off her hair such that it burned like a flaming torch in the night.

Her red eyes gleamed when they landed on Percy. She started to laugh.

'This couldn't have worked out better if I'd planned it myself!' She crooked one manicured claw at Percy. 'Hello, gorgeous,' she said to him. 'You're right on time. And now, you are going to make me immortal.'

A/N: The goddess Eris has a cameo in HoH, but I decided to flesh her out more. She was loads of fun to write!

@preciouschildrenofolympus has drawn an absolutely incredible illustration of this chapter--it’s a whole comic strip featuring Eris’s appearance, and you should go and check it out if you liked this chapter because it brings it to life so perfectly!

Continue to chapter 11 | Back to content page

[justanothercinemaniac]

Epic Movie (Re)Watch #158 - Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country

Spoilers Below

Have I seen it before: Yes

Did I like it then: Yes.

Do I remember it: Yes.

Did I see it in theaters: No.

Format: Blu-ray

1) This would be the last Star Trek film to feature the entirety of the original series cast (as it was followed by four films with the Next Generation cast and now the three films in the rebooted timeline) and is intended as such. Nicholas Meyers (director of Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan) returns as director, Gene Rodenberry died just days after seeing a cut of the movie, and it seeks to give the original cast a fitting send off.

2) Even though it at times keeps his involvement in the plot minimal, I like that Sulu is Captain. It shows that there are officers who are as competent as Kirk and who seek to be more than just his inferior officers.

3) The opening of the film (where a mysterious wave knocks around Sulu’s ship only for it to be discovered to originate from parts of Klingon space) is an incredibly strong way of opening the film. It establishes the conflict and sense of mystery which will come to define the story.

4) Sassy Sulu is the best Sulu.

(GIF originally posted by @williamtriker)

5) I think deciding to end the stories of the original characters with a plot based around peace between Klingons and the federation is a great one. It pushes each of these characters into an alliance they are uncomfortable with. Klingons have been antagonists towards them since the original series, that’s 25 years at this point. And it forces all of them to examine things they are uncomfortable with, ESPECIALLY Kirk.

(GIFs originally posted by @readysteadytrek)

Kirk is obviously horrified and disgusted at the idea. He refers to the Klingons as admirals and calls Spock, “arrogant and presumptuous,” after learning he recommended him as a peace ambassador. How many times have Kirk and the Enterprise gone up against Klingons? How many times have they threatened them? And, most relevantly, what was the species of those who killed his son in Star Trek III? He is pushed into a place he never thought he’d be and never wanted to be. It is so much easier to vilify them and hate them than it is to work towards peace. But that is what Kirk has to do over the course of these two hours. Work towards peace. And that is an amazing conflict to see play out.

6) According to IMDb:

The film is largely an allegory about the fall of Soviet Communism. When General Chang demands that Kirk answer a question without waiting for the translation, it is an allusion to the real-life exchange at the United Nations between U.S. Ambassador Adlai Stevenson and Soviet Ambassador Valerian Zorin during the 1962 Cuban missile crisis. Also, the explosion on Praxis due to "insufficient safety measures" is akin to the meltdown at Chernobyl nuclear power plant in present-day Ukraine, which is believed to have contributed to the decline of the Soviet Union. Spock says that there was seventy years of "unremitting hostility" between the Klingon Empire and the Federation, which is not how long the Cold War lasted, but is the approximate length of time that the U.S.S.R. (Union of Soviet Socialist Republics) existed in the twentieth century, with a communist form of government.

That makes the conflict all the more ripe in may opinion & I love it all the more.

7) Kim Cattrall as Saavik Valeris

(GIF originally posted by @readysteadytrek)

According to IMDb:

Valeris was originally written to be Saavik, Spock's trainee from Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (1982), Star Trek III: The Search for Spock (1984) and Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home (1986) lending greater impact to her character's betrayal. However, Gene Roddenberry objected to the character's actions, ending up in a battle with Nicholas Meyer (who believed the Saavik character was his to do with as he pleased). Roddenberry won the dispute and the character was re-written into Valeris, who is played by Kim Cattrall. Cattrall wanted to play a different character rather than be the third incarnation of Saavik, following Kirstie Alley and Robin Curtis. Meyer had originally wanted Cattrall to play Saavik back in 1982, but she was unavailable.

I prefer that Cattrall is playing an original character. I don’t see it as being in line with what we’ve seen of Saavik in the past that she be a traitor and I think Cattrall is able to play a unique character because of it. Saavik - for me - will always be the somewhat proud closer-to-Kirk-than-Spock Vulcan in Wrath of Khan (as opposed to her more logical portrayal later on) so allowing Valeris to be her own character works. Cattrall is able to portray her as logical but with her own strong sense of morales and beliefs which leads her to some very interesting places/decisions by the film’s end. I think she’s a worthy character/actress to join the original crew on their final voyage.

8) Look how much Spock has grown!

Spock [to Valeris]: “Logic is the beginning of wisdom, not the end.”

9) I have to say the kinship Spock and Valeris are portrayed as having is done very well. Even though this is the first film she is in, we understand how and why Spock trusts/is proud of Valeris. This makes her betrayal by the film’s end all the more painful.

10) I can never get past the fact that Chancellor Gorkon is played by David Warner who was Sark in the original TRON.

11) There are a lot of lines in this film which allude to the racism the Enterprise crew feels towards the Klingons.

Chekov: “Guess who’s coming to dinner.”

Nichelle Nichols’ Uhura originally had this line but the actress referred to say it. According to IMDb there was another line she refused to say which ended up being dropped from the film and that was, "Yeah, but would you let your daughter marry one of them?"

12) Christopher Plummer as General Chang.

I truly enjoy Plummer’s performance as Chang and the character himself, although he runs out of steam a little bit by the film’s end. He is a poetic man, quoting Shakespeare often throughout the film, but a warrior through and through. A proud man who wishes to see the continuation of his race in what he believes is the best way (which isn’t necessarily the actual best way), Chang has an intense focus which Plummer performs well. A wonderful final villain for the original crew to face off against.

13) Remember how this film analyzes future bigotry?

Crew Member #1: “They all look alike.”

Crew Member #2: “And what about that smell? You know only top of the line models can even talk.”

(GIF source unknown [if this is your GIF please let me know].)

Also the filmmakers are doing a good job of drumming up sympathy for the Klingons right now. I am very much pro-Klingon in that moment.

13) The dinner scene.

There are a lot of mixed emotions at play in this scene. Hope for the future - championed by Chancellor Gorkon - quickly turns into fear, distrust, and discomfort. It becomes apparent that most Klingons are not comfortable with this situation either.

Azetbur [Gorkon’s daughter]: “ ‘Inalienable.’ If only you could hear yourself. ‘Human rights.’ The very name is racist.”

14) And the conspiracy begins.

Kirk [after the chancellor’s ship is fired upon]: “What happened.”

Spock: “We have fired on the chancellor’s ship.”

Honesty I think it is the conspiracy and mystery which makes this film as good as it is. It helps to set it apart from the epic which was Wrath of Khan or the more lighthearted fun if The Voyage Home. It plays out very akin to a Sherlock Holmes or Agatha Christie mystery and I am a sucker for a good mystery.”

15) Kirk may be struggling with peace but damn if he doesn’t immediately do the right thing.

And then Bones - who is always a doctor first - goes with Kirk to tend to the wounded and tries to save the chancellor’s life. They put aside their fears and their prejudices in an attempt to do what’s right and I applaud them for doing so.

16) I don’t know why, but something about this exchange makes me smile.

Scotty [after the data is says they fired at the Klingons, even though all torpedoes are accounted for]: “No way!”

Spock: “I sympathize with you, Mr. Scott.”

I think it’s just Spock being Spock really.

17) Kurtwood Smith (of “That 70′s Show”) as the Federation President.

The nicest part about Smith’s character is that I found this line nicely refreshing:

“This president is not above the law.”

(GIF originally posted by @marshmallow-the-vampire-slayer)

18) The trial.

I think the trial of Kirk and Bones for the attack on the Klingon chancellor is the best part of this film. It makes you wildly uncomfortable the entire time, as it is meant to. While this film is an allegory for a post-Soviet-Union world, there is a lot of McCarthyism at work here. Their verdicts were clearly determined before they took the stands, with even Bones’ intentions as a doctor challenged.

Bones [after Chang accuses him of incompetence]: “I tried to save him [Gorkon]. I was desperate to save him.”

Bones has always been a doctor, so to accuse him of not doing his best to save a patient is such a painful strike to his soul. The scene also gives us this line from Kirk.

Kirk [after it is suggested some of his crew were the assassins]: “As captain I am responsible for the conduct of crew under my command.”

There is a difference between responsibility and culpability. There is a difference between responsibility and guilt. That is important to know.

18.1) Also we get this wonderful Michael Dorn cameo during the trial!

Dorn is most famous for playing fan favorite Commander Worf on “The Next Generation” which was already airing when he filmed this part as Kirk’s/Bones’ legal council in front of the Klingons. Although he is not credited as such in the film, it is understood that Dorn is playing Commander Worf’s ancestor Col. Worf here. I like the continuity, it’s a nice touch.

19) Ah, the connection between Spock and Sherlock Holmes.

Spock: “If you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains - however improbable - must be the truth.”

I love when Spock uses his logic skills in a Holmes-ian nature. Detective Spock is a lot of fun to watch.

20) The prison asteroid Kirk and Bones end up on I think is a great example of place in the film. It’s cold and desolate nature is an incredibly powerful atmosphere which conveys not only where theses characters are physically but emotionally by this part of the movie.

21) Expectations vs reality at its finest.

Spock: “If I know the captain, by this time he is deep into planning his escape.”

[Kirk is in a fistfight with another prisoner, trying not to get crushed.]

22)

Kirk [to Bones, in the prison, while they’re waiting for sleep]: “Are you afraid of the future?”

THIS is Kirk’s conflict right here. He’s TERRIFIED of the future and his place in it. It’s a conflict which goes all the way back to Wrath of Khan: he is afraid of being obsolete. Of the march of time. That’s what truly terrifies him and that’s what he has to deal with in this film.

23) Hey look, it’s Christian Slater!

According to IMDb:

The Casting Director was Mary Jo Slater, mother of Christian Slater. Thus, his small role as a Communications Officer aboard the Excelsior.

Christian Slater wore the trousers made for William Shatner in Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (1982). "It was an honor to get into Shatner's pants", he quipped during a BBC interview.

Christian Slater framed his 750 dollar paycheck for his walk-on part.

24) According to IMDb:

Nichelle Nichols objected to the scene in which the crew desperately searches through old printed Klingonese translation dictionaries in order to speak the language without the standard universal translator being used. It seemed more logical to her that Uhura, being the ship's chief communications officer, would know the language of the Federation's main enemy, or at least have the appropriate information in the computer. However, Nicholas Meyer bluntly overruled her. In Star Trek (2009), Uhura specializes in xenolinguistics, intercepts and translates a Klingon communication, and speaks Klingonese in Star Trek Into Darkness (2013).

I agree with Nichols.

25) So in the prison Kirk makes out with a woman who turns out to be a shapeshifter, and when he learns she was a shapeshifter kind a recoils from her. Then she tries to kill him and Bones (which was her plan all along) and shifts into Kirk to cause confusion. Shatner seems to have a lot of fun playing the shapeshifter Kirk. It’s almost like he’s doing an impression of himself, dialing all the Shatner-isms up to 11. It’s brief but enjoyable.

(GIF originally posted by @trekgate)

26) Damn, Spock is PISSED when it turns out Valeris is the traitor. He is hurting, and the mind meld he performs with her is super intense. It’s a nice side of the Vulcan I haven’t seen much of in Nimoy’s tenure as the character (Zachary Quinto would have some wonderful angry scenes though).

27) Dude, I love this.

Scotty: “Then we’re dead.”

[Beat.]

Spock: “I’ve been dead before.”

28) Spock and Kirk have one last heart to heart before the climax and resolution of this film and I appreciate that the film took the time to analyze their friendship one last time.

Kirk [while Spock is beating himself up over Valeris]: “Spock you want to know something? Everyone is human.”

Spock: “I find that remark offensive.”

29) The film creates some great climactic conflict by creating the dual scene of the Enterprise fighting off Chang’s ship and the nearing assassination at the peace conference. You know they can feasibly beat Chang, but do it in time to stop the assassination which gets dangerously close to fruition? THAT is the conflict. That’s the double jeopardy.

30) And this is the resolution of Kirk’s conflict with time.

Kirk [to Azetbur at the peace conference]: “People can be very frightened of change.”

Azetbur [realizing Kirk just saved the treaty signing]: “You’ve restored my father’s faith.”

Kirk: “And you’ve restored my son’s.”

Kirk has made his peace with the movement of time and is ready for its march.

31) Spock sass!

Spock [after the Enterprise is ordered to return to port to be decommissioned]: “If I were human, I believe my response would be, ‘go to hell.’ If I were human.”

Chekov: “Course heading, captain?”

Kirk [in his final line as captain of the Enterprise]: “Second star to the right, and straight on ‘til morning.”

32) Having the final credits for the main cast be their signatures is a nice touch.

When it comes to the original cast Star Trek films, Star Trek VI is second only to Wrath of Khan in my opinion. The added elements of conspiracy and mystery as well as themes of prejudice and bigotry help to set the film apart from the others. The characters are pushed to a place they’ve never been before personally and the entire cast shines in showing that. It’s a wonderful final film for the original stars after 25 years.

[gleek-runner]

Cool Kids | Chapter 5 | They tell me I'm too young to understand they say I'm caught up in a dream

Perhaps they are not stars, but rather openings in heaven where the love of our lost ones pours through and shines down upon us to let us know they are happy.

.

Here's the thing; People grow apart and that's just how life works. As you grow up, you become a more complex character and even the environment in which you live changes progressively, therefore no one is surprised when people grow apart. It's  not enjoyable in one way or another but it happens and you can not stop it.

Sometimes change is scary. Everyone knows it-it's why they hold on to the past with everything they have. But life doesn't work that way. It moves and you are bound to move with it either slowly or all at once.

Here's another thing about humans and life; in the first years of one's life, they live in a bubble. Children are happy and careless, loving everyone and everything. They don't discriminate, they give their entire being to others because in their own little magical bubble everyone is as nice as they are. It starts with them learning to understand the dirty hidden innuendos in cartoons and evolves in learning about death and the world's real boogeymen.

From that point and after, you either die or survive.

You either embrace the end or live long enough to be the one person your parents warned you about.

(There's a third category in which you're just a broken vessel searching for someone to fix you. But isn't it ironic how the only people that will understand how broken you are will be just as broken and unable to fix you?)

.

Skye can't sleep.

It's been happening for quite sometime and it keeps getting worse. Her energy was at its lowest and she could barely stay awake in her classes. It ate her alive and neither her nor her parents could make things better. If something, they only made things worse and left a bigger mess to clean.

Skye figured out that no one could really help her and if she was to be saved, she needed to do it herself. With that thought in mind, she sheltered herself from the world and avoided everyone at all cost. Even her best friends who had already suffered the loss of both Newt and Brendon. Skye liked to believe that everything was for the best. When she would get better, because she would, she would run to her friends' arms once more.

They didn't deserve to be around a broken person like her.

"That's all I have."

"You know I brought you many stuff, I was expecting a little more from your part."the older boy mumbled making Skye frown. She might have been two years younger than him but that didn't mean she was scared. She could knock him out if needed.

"Cut it Puckerman"she shot back"or do I need to let principal Coulson know about your little drug dealing."

"Fine, shortie."he grumbled and put his hand on his bag. He reached for a small bag of pills and handed them to her along with a large cup of coffee"You know, when you get tired of these, I could probably find some LSD for one of my best clients."

"I'm not like you."she whispered and grabbed the coffee and pills from his hands"I will not end up like you."

"They all say that at the beginning, but it's never true baby-doll."

.

Dan didn't like drugs.

So he really had no idea what was he doing behind that damn alley filled with smoke to meet a sixteen year old who was obviously a drug dealer. When he had confronted Skye about shutting him out and she had explained to him that she had some problems, he didn't exactly expected a drug problem. Not in a thousand years.

"Will I see you next week? I might find something stronger."the voice of the one and only Noah Puckerman sent shivers to Dan's spine. The boy wasn't good news and he certainly didn't want him to hang around Skye.

"Depe--"

"Skye! No!"Dan yelled as he pointed his finger towards Noah"I'm going to help you come clean. My best friend will not be a druggie."

"What are you talking about?"Skye questioned confused before taking her bag of pills and handing it to Dan"They are not drugs. Technically. They are hypnotics."

"For your sleeplessness?"

"Yeah."

"Oh."he told her feeling a bit embarrassed with himself"Are your parents fighting?"

"What do you think?"she asked bitterly and motioned her hand for them to go. Dan was the only person who truly knew what was happening in the Johnson residence but since Skye had tried keeping her distance, he had never learned that things had gotten worse. He just thought her parents visited a marriage counselor ."Please don't tell anyone."

"I won't. Promise."

All Skye wanted was to be left alone, to fix herself and then let other people in. It was a good plan but she forgot that once you shut someone out, you couldn't erase the past and bring them back. Lucky for her, Dan wasn't going to let her give up on their friendship. The downside? Eventually, they both gave up on one friendship.

Just not their own.

.

"What about a book?"

"I've read many."

"But not all."Charlie argued gazing outside his room's window. Summer was just around the corner and with school ending, a book would be a great company for a lonely soul. Furthermore, there were a billion books in the world and one could not simply have read them all. He scratched the back of his head for a while and then jumped from his chair."How about a record? You like Wham! right?"

"You really don't have to get me anything."Quinn continued with a warm smile"I'm not even throwing a party."

"Why not?"

"Brittany has a competition and mum and dad will go with her to Manchester for ten days, until the tournament is over."

"And you'll spent your birthday alone at home?"Charlie asked shocked. He recalled Quinn's past birthdays, they weren't anything fancy-just the six friends eating, playing and sometimes staying overnight-but they still were enjoyable. This year, however, he knew that things would be different. This year it would be just her and him. And they both had a pretty rough year already, they needed to blow off some steam.

"You know what? My aunt is coming tomorrow,"as Charlie spoke he witnessed Quinn's eyes becoming brighter and a hopeful smile formed on her lips. It made him hurt twice as much as he shook his head."my mother's sister."

"Oh. Have you talked to him?"Quinn asked sadness filling her voice. From what Charlie had heard from her, they didn't have any news from Brendon and the few times she had called he wasn't there or didn't want to talk. Eventually she stopped trying. They all did. Newt, on the other hand, was not any better. His aunt and uncle had cut all contact with Charlie's family which meant he hadn't heard from Newt for almost an entire year.

"No."Quinn nodded sadly"Anyways,"he continued after taking a deep breath"She'll be in our house for one week but when she's gone, I could ask my parents if you could stay with us for a while. It will be one day after your birthday but it will be fun."

"Charlie, you don't have to."

"I want to."the two children smiled and shared a hug.

.

"You smell like smoke."

"And you smell like daisies."Dan said and coughed a little bit. He couldn't possibly be smelling smoke, he had barely managed to finish a cigarette. It wasn't that he liked smoking, it was all his brother's fault for not hiding his own pack of cigarettes well. Dan was only a kid and it was obvious that curiosity had gotten the best of him.

"Noah told me you wanted him to find you more nicotine."Skye explained"Since when is that a thing?"

"I tried this morning."he told her"It's nice, a bit uneasy at first, but it calms me down. It clears my head too."

"It's a drug."

"Says you."

"I take pills because they help me."she argued and let herself lean against the wall"My parents are divorcing."The statement made Dan raise an eyebrow.

"Are they going to fight for your custody?"

"No."she chuckled bitterly"They don't want me. Neither of them."

"And what does that mean? Wha--they can't do that."

"It's a small town. No one will judge them."she stated sadly"They're going to sent me back to the orphanage."

.

In exactly one week things have fallen apart for Quinn. Something happen to Charlie, like he completely disappeared of the face of the earth. Dan and Skye remained distance with only occasional hellos if they were to cross paths and they usually chose to avoid those too. Then her birthday came and she believed something would change.

Nothing did change though.

And Quinn spent her twelfth birthday alone in an empty house with no people calling her to wish her a happy birthday, not even her parents. Only Brittany sent her a message in the afternoon apologizing on behalf of both her and their parents for not calling. Quinn was once more left alone.

The one thing they had promised her she would never feel again.

"Oh, why are you crying, Quinny?"the voice was sweet and caring. Quinn lift her gaze and watched the girl talking. She was taller than her with long brown hair and a caring smile, a smile she knew all too well."Look at your eyes! Who made you sad, honey?"

Next to her stood a taller brunette boy who Quinn thought she would never see again. At least she hoped she wouldn't.

"You're not real."

"That's nonsense! Of course we are!"Marley argued and sat next to her"We heard it was someone's birthday and said we should stop by."

At that moment, Quinn brought her knees closer to her face and let her small 'birthday girl' hat fall from her head. She pressed her palms against her face and began sobbing. For she truly was alone. Marley and Ryder was just another proof of that."They all left me."

"But we won't."and with that Marley and Ryder hugged her tight bringing the feeling of safety back to her. A feeling she had missed dearly.

.

"There is someone on the phone for you."

"I don't want to talk."

"They refuse to hang up though."the blonde woman told Charlie. The boy sighed, why couldn't they all just leave him alone? He left his bed and snatched the phone from his aunt's hand. The woman just scoffed in return. If only she wasn't that cold hearted. She might have been related to his mother but the two women had nothing in common.

His mother was kind and caring, she smiled and could light up the world. She brought hope even in the most tough situations, that was what his dad always said, and was prone to help anyone who was lost. She was a fighter and one of the most important people in Charlie's life. His aunt, though, was the completely opposite. She was cold and distant, she showed no expression or fear and Charlie was positive that she never cried either.

"Hello?"there was a pause on the other line. Charlie wanted to scream, it was one of these calls again. He hated doing these, he hated hearing all these distant relatives who suddenly remembered his existence. He hated hearing them pretending they care.

"Hi."the voice comes out in a whisper but Charlie would recognize it everywhere"My parents let me call. Grandma said, er she called and, it was just yesterday. I didn't know. We didn't."

"I know."

"You were in the airport."

"My aunt was coming, we went to pick her up."he said and sniffed his nose.

"I'm really sorry."

"It's okay."he whispered"It's okay that they aren't here. They are living a life beyond and travel the stars."

"In their red box?"Newt chuckled remembering the dream that Charlie had.

"Yeah."

"I still wish I was with you."

"I know."

"And what are you going to do now?"Newt asked sobbing"Live on your own?"

Charlie glanced at his aunt who was, rather apathetically, reading a book while drinking tea in silence. He turned his gaze to his shoes and sighed"Oh, how I wish that was the case."

[travellovekai-blog]

Hola everyone as some of you know by now Jeff my boyfriend spends a good deal of time in Alaska working. It sadly is a necessity still at this point in our lives. I am extremely grateful for all his hard work and his dedication to our life. However, this leaves me to live and travel alone quite frequently. Yes sometimes I travel with a friend or two but the majority of the time it’s just me. I’m going to share with you the good, the bad and …. Of traveling alone in countries that many still view as the third world. I do not always agree with this term analogy but to each their own. My viewpoint is that it’s just a different world compared to some of the other countries like say, The United States of America or Europe. Which is also why I am so intrigued, enthralled  and love it here.

Okay, so when I travel alone I typically do it the cheapest way possible. As of now, we don’t get paid to travel we travel because it calls to us. I share all our stories with you because I love sharing them with you. Writing and traveling is my passion in life. I spend as little as possible on transportation and accommodations I’d rather use that money for experiences. I stay mostly in hostels but from time to time an airbnb. This next trip I’m taking I’m actually staying in a beautiful home for free while pet sitting. I’ve learned many ways to cut corners. I try to eat the majority of my meals where I’m staying. This way I can experience more of the cultural foods around me. I pick one meal a day where I’ll eat out and it’s usually not some fancy place. I mean I can eat in a restaurant at home. I like to eat at the food vendors, food trucks and small local mom and pop places. This is always where the good stuff is. Not only is the food more authentic but it’s always cheaper.

Tacos Darado

Toni Col Made right here

Now some of you might be thinking to yourselves what about safety? In my eyes safety is an issue anywhere in the world. Traveling smart is the key. Don’t leave your belongings anywhere, don’t walk in the dark so on and so forth. Whenever humanly possible when I arrive somewhere new I try to schedule my arrival to be during the daylight hours. This way it’s not as confusing and uncomfortable to get around in a new place. The light of day makes easier. In my experience, bad people are kind of like cockroaches they come out at night usually. Oh and always use a licensed taxi service.

Another thing I always do is download where I’m going and the places I’ll be staying in google maps. This way if I do get turned around anywhere all I have to do is bring up the address on my smartphone. It’s like the old “leave the porch light on for you” thing but it’s at my fingertips. This being said I always keep a written copy of what all the addresses are and the cross streets just encase. I mean we’ve all at one time or another forgot our phone, maybe we left it charging in the hostel or maybe left it at the last coffee shop oops. Now, this has never happened to me (Knock on wood). But I have accidentally left my phone charging at home when I was out for a walk and gotten turned around in a new area here in Mazatlan. Fortunately here I know if I head toward either the Malecon or to Centro I can figure out where the heck I need to go. But if it was somewhere new I wouldn’t have this advantage so when traveling I keep a backup of the necessary information with me always.

Photo by bruce mars on Pexels.com

Photo by Kaique Rocha on Pexels.com

Many of the towns, cities and countryside areas I travel to will have visitor kiosks or centers some of them have city maps. Whenever visiting a place that has a visitors center that is my first stop. I can get the lay of the land this way and many times get a map for free. Most of these centers want your experience in their town to be great so they’ll share a ton of information with you. Keep in mind that Mexico and Central America depend greatly on tourism so it is important for these tourist centers to help you have a good time. Another good thing about these people for those of you that speak no Spanish is most speak at least some English. Many of them can even help you set up a tour if you like to explore this way better. I typically don’t do a lot of tours but they can be helpful from time to time.

Depending on how long of a distance my next adventure is to take place I will fly or take the bus. Amazingly sometimes it’s actually less expensive to fly. One thing about the larger bus companies in Mexico, is they are frequently awesome as far as buses go. I’ve done my fair share of traveling in the US on bus lines and I have to say the buses here are way better. The seats recline some all the way and some slightly, most have footrest. There is almost always WIFI available with charging plugin, not always the greatest connection but when in city areas it usually works fairly well. When taking a bus on a longer trip they have decent bathrooms and there are small screen individual monitors in front of each seat. They are well air-conditioned and when a bus stops somewhere, frequently I’ve seen small vendors jump on for a few minutes to sell food and/or drink items. Really who can complain? All this in mind whenever a trip is more than say ten hours  or so this is when I really try to fly depending on the cost of course. While the buses are nice here It does get a little uncomfortable when you can’t get up and walk around after several hours.

Photo by Nubia Navarro (nubikini) on Pexels.com

Because I’m a woman traveling solo there are other precautions I take. Like keeping a small stash of money in different places. I don’t walk down a dark alley or into anyplace that looks a little shady. I keep my packing LIGHT! This is important I’m not some young twenty-something and as most of you know I have some debilitating at times medical issues. Dragging a lot around with me by myself is a nightmare. I try to keep everything in one backpack or suitcase. This way it’s easy for me to schlep around and I able to move around everything even on my bad days. For packing tips and ideas check out my KISS post it’s full of great ideas on packing and things to bring. Plus some more safety tips. 

  Fears… I’ll be honest the first time I traveled anywhere in Mexico alone I was a little terrified. I mean I had been all over the USA by myself but this was different right?. At the time I knew almost NO Spanish and I had no idea where I was going or how to get around. I had to remind myself on occasion that I was strong enough to do this and when I’d get nervous I’d sing that old Helen Reddy song “I am woman hear me roar” (Video Below) This may sound quite silly to some of you and some of you may be saying to your self Helen who? But believe it or not, this actually helped. I have found that the fear was typically created in my own head fed by the over exaggerations on the news media. 

Example, Mazatlan Sinaloa is currently rated a four on the Mexico travel advisory. A four… A four is the highest rating meaning DO NOT GO. Yes there is cartel here in Mexico yes they shoot each other over turfs etc.. Mostly they are hurting each other and in specific neighborhoods. It’s not like their running around all over every inch of Mexico shooting it out like the OK corral. Kidnapping can be a concern so I keep it real I do my best to always blend in so to speak.  These same issues apply in large cities throughout the world there are shootings and kidnappings everywhere.

I live in Mazatlan am I afraid? No, honestly I was more afraid when I lived in Los Angeles. I’m just a little more cautious of where I go and when. After realizing all of this I was able to move past my fears and just do it. Life is so short I don’t want to miss a thing. I wanted to travel and I was going to do it even when Jeff wasn’t able to come.

One thing I’ve learned traveling alone is you can do whatever you want, whenever you want. There’s no debating on where to go next or maybe putting off your want’s  to please the other person or people. I can eat when and whatever I want, I can go to bed when I want and get up when I want.  It’s a very freeing experience.

It’s amazing to me how much better you get to know yourself when your traveling alone. I mean at nearly fifty I thought I knew myself pretty darn well but you’d be surprised at how much better you get to know yourself when you only have yourself to talk to you. Yes, I talk to myself I just try not to do it out loud haha around other people. When I’m walking through say a beautiful gallery or looking at an incredible sunset alone the inner reflection I find during these times is priceless. I sincerely think that because of traveling solo from time to time that the relationship that Jeff and I share is the better for it. I love myself and have learned to really enjoy my own company which in turn allows for me to be a much better partner to Jeff. I understand myself so much better now that I’m able to communicate my needs, likes dislikes. There’s no guessing for Jeff to have to go through he knows he can just ask me. All of this from me traveling solo.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Is it nice to have another person to share all the experiences with? Absolutely. Sometimes when I travel alone I miss having someone to bounce ideas off of or to talk with. But this also forces me to interact more with the people of the community I’m visiting. For me being alone on a trip the time I miss with others most is usually meals. It’s nice to share a meal with a loved one be it Jeff or a friend. In the evenings when you return from some place really cool and interesting I’ll sometimes miss being able to pour a glass of wine and chat with Jeff or my friend all about it. When I feel like this I write it all down this way I am chatting all about it, reflecting and sharing the experience.

So in my humble opinion traveling solo can do anyone good. It’s really not as scary as it is in your own head. I’ve met fantastic people and enjoyed amazing experiences by just doing it.

Please share in the comments if you have any ideas, questions or feed back.

As always we are so happy you’re here. Please sign up for our weekly newsletter and you’ll receive a free photo ebook and you’ll never miss the newest post. Every Friday we send you a new fun recipes from around the world and anything that you may have missed during your busy week. Don’t forget to follow us on your favorite social media’s. Just click below to follow.

  Our guides and content are completely free. We make a small commission at no extra cost to you whenever you use our affiliate links. So please if you enjoy the content consider using our links. Thank you for all your support! XOXO Kai and Jeff

Traveling alone, I why do it? Hola everyone as some of you know by now Jeff my boyfriend spends a good deal of time in Alaska working.