#but as someone who is deeply interested in the marvels of technology and how far weve come. please give me the crazy graphics shit

[devotedlystrangewizard]

i fully understand we dont need ultra perfect realism in games but there is a part of my brain. that really likes pretty graphics. there is a part of my brain that sees how raytracing is evolving and giggles in unbridled glee. i adore stylized games more than anything ever (my current favorite games are ultrakill, ffxiv, hollow knight, celeste, and rain world) but MAN.

[lifeinahole27]

CS ff: “Walking the Tightrope” (Chapter 2/10) (au)

Summary: Killian’s daily routines are a matter of habit. When he wakes up late one morning, his routines all change for the better. Emma doesn’t care about routines, but she does care about Killian, no matter how reluctant she is to admit it to herself.

Rating: E (much later in the story)

Content Warnings: Maybe some language in this chapter but nothing more. 

A Special Thank You: My continued gratitude to my lovely friends, @captainstudmuffin and @phiralovesloki. And a heap of love to @captainswanbigbang for putting this together and helping me accomplish this. 

A/N: I have crawled out of my deathbed long enough to post this. Thank you to everyone who has read so far, and I hope your enjoyment continues with this next installment! xo

Chapter 1 | 

Find it on Ao3 & FFN!

-x-

Chapter 2: Meet Me in the Morning

October 5: Saturday

Emma Swan doesn’t care about routines. She does most things at the same time each day, but that’s only because she wakes up, takes a shower, gets ready, and goes to work at the same time. Every day.

On the weekends, she’s a mess. She’s not entirely ashamed to admit there are some weekends she doesn’t even bother showering. She’s a single woman living alone so she’s the only one who has to deal with it.

It was by chance that, a little more than a month ago, she decided to walk to work early and saw Killian Jones for the first time. She’s been walking the same route for so long but she had never seen him before, more than likely because he seems to like to get to work early and she prefers to run in at the last second before she’d be considered late.

That first time was a fluke – she told David she would come in a little early to help haul records out of storage and there was this newcomer standing at the corner she crosses in order to get to Main Street. Storybrooke doesn’t get a lot of tourists, and of course she’d heard rumors that there was someone new, but to see him in person was a jolt of excitement.

He was reading something on his phone and looked like he was going to walk straight into the street. She had hustled to get to the corner sooner to stop him in case a car was coming (unlikely with how early it was and in this town) but he stopped, as if his shoes had suddenly stuck him to the spot. Without looking, he pushed the button for the crosswalk and kept on reading. Emma realized that this was something he had ingrained into him so deeply that he even knew where to stop because of muscle memory. Pretty impressive for a guy who’d only lived here a handful of weeks.

Despite being unconsciously aware of his surroundings, he didn’t seem to even notice her following him at a distance, so she lurked in her own way until she got to Granny’s, watching with interest as he took the left at the post office and went on his way.

Curious to see if he would repeat this chain of events, Emma showed up early again the next day just in time to see him walking up, but it was all wrong. He wasn’t reading, so he wasn’t lost in whatever was on his phone, and instead of just blindly stopping and pushing the button, his eyes met hers and he stumbled just the tiniest bit during the approach.

Suddenly, Emma kind of liked the idea of showing up every day around the same time to see if any of the above happened again – would be he lost in technology or would his steps falter again?

And both events did happen, but every time he’d get close to the corner, he’d look up and around, oftentimes catching the moment she was just approaching the crosswalk. Six weeks straight, every Monday through Friday, they walk together.

But last Monday he didn’t show up. She waited a couple minutes, but he still didn’t show. So she did what any sane person would do and went about her business. On a whim, she got two coffees at Granny’s and proceeded to stand outside for an extra ten minutes, not even sure he would pass by. Maybe he didn’t have to go to work. Maybe while she was getting the coffee, he went speeding past. Maybe he was dead in a ditch somewhere. She didn’t even know him but she was tempted to set out a search party for the man who always walks to work looking like a GQ model. 

With that in mind, she’d started texting David asking how out of line it would be to create a missing persons report for someone who was, by her calculations, twenty minutes late.

“Who do you think is missing?” he’d texted back, clearly humoring her.

But that brought up a whole new set of problems because sure, she knew his name. How could she explain to David that she wanted to check up on someone she’d never even had a conversation with? And how could she do it without making David incredibly suspicious of Killian Jones?

When she looked up, Killian was there, looking just as shocked to see her as she was to see him. She had a moment of mild panic, locking and shoving her phone in her pocket without responding to her brother. She grabbed the coffees and started to just leave, but she noticed he didn’t have his to-go mug in hand and remembered why she ordered two on impulse. 

So she officially met Killian that day, embarrassingly asking for his name even though she already knew it, and their daily interactions subtly changed again. She ponders this over a late breakfast the day after their bar run-in, marveling at the fact that she didn’t drink that much, that she’s not nursing a hangover with greasy food and a whole pot of coffee. Instead, she settles on the couch with a bowl of Fruity Pebbles and stares at the TV screen as she tries to decide which Netflix show to go for first. 

Halfway through the first show, though, her thoughts keep drifting to the way Killian’s lips felt on the back of her hand. It’s occurred to her that she’s in trouble because he’s already gotten closer than she’s let most men in the last few years. She all but swore off relationships after the last one, but there’s something magnetic about Killian that keeps drawing her back. There’s a kinship, maybe. She sees it in his eyes some mornings - just a flash of something she can’t quite name but that lives inside her as well. 

Knowing this is where dangerous thoughts lead, she finishes her cereal and eyes the visible messes in her apartment. Maybe some cleaning will help wipe the thoughts of getting those lips on hers from her brain. She starts with the overflowing sink. 

By the end of the weekend, her apartment is spotless but her mind is more restless than it’s been in ages.

It doesn’t help that David calls her Sunday evening, making sure to emphasize that Killian seems like a nice guy. She’s just gathering the last of her laundry to tackle while dinner is still in the oven, so she hauls the hamper down to the basement of her building while David pries into her personal life.

“Yeah, he does,” Emma replies nonchalantly. “Do you want me to bring breakfast to the station tomorrow?” If she tries to change the subject, no one can really blame her for it. 

“No need. It’s muffin Monday. But back to the guy that suddenly showed up after you were just texting me about putting out a missing person report on someone?”

“Geez, David. Way to be subtle,” she huffs as she finishes stuffing the clothes in the washer, starting the cycle before walking back to her apartment and pacing a circuit as the conversation continues. “So, was it Killian? How long have you been seeing him?”

“I’m not seeing him,” she defends, even though David’s tone is less stern and more overly-cautious-about-who-dates-his-sister. “We just sort of walk together for a bit in the mornings. I got worried when he showed up late one day. The guy is like an advertisement for punctuality.”

David hums a response, not sounding convinced. “And spending time alone with him last night? How does that figure into all this?”

With an exasperated sigh, Emma stops walking around her living room and drops onto the edge of the couch. “It just means that I have a new friend or something. That’s all. Nothing more than that.”

“Uh huh. So make sure the Save-the-Dates have ‘David was right’ written somewhere on them, okay?”

“Oh, would you look at the time? Dinner’s burning. Gotta go!”

This is one of those moments she sincerely misses phones with cords because it’s not nearly as satisfying to click the lock button to end the call and toss her phone on the coffee table as it would’ve been to slam down the receiver. She leaves it there for the rest of the night until it’s time to plug it in before bed, letting it represent all the truths she isn’t ready to face yet. 

Killian is just on his way to becoming one of her friends. There’s nothing wrong with that. Nothing more than that, either.

-x- October 7: Monday

On Monday, Emma follows her own version of her morning routine and gets to the corner just as Killian is pushing the button for the crosswalk. She’s exhausted from a night of intermittent sleep, but can’t resist returning the gesture when Killian smiles and waves when he sees her. 

“Good morning, Swan,” he greets, his cheery demeanor trying its best to rub off on her but failing miserably.

“It’s certainly morning,” Emma grumbles, wanting to reach out and grab the stainless steel mug from his hand and chug until she can function again. 

“Well, that’s certainly a Monday mood if I’ve ever heard one. Not enough sleep last night?”

She shakes her head instead of responding, not really sure how to explain that he’s the reason without it sounding like either flattery or an insult. Truly, it was her own internal fuck-ups that kept her awake, and the fear that Killian Jones might be someone she wants to think about more often. This all floats through her brain on a lazy river of thought, and meanwhile, the light changes and Killian ushers her across the street and maneuvers her up the path to Granny’s before she can even register that she’s moved at all. 

But instead of that being the end of their daily interactions, Killian is still walking beside her, opening the door for her when they walk up the few steps to the entrance, and somehow herding her without touching her all the way to the proprietress. 

“Granny, I do believe our good deputy here is suffering from severe sleep deprivation. Might you have something strong enough to knock out her Monday?”

“You’re consorting with this one, now?” Granny asks her, confusion popping up one gray eyebrow above her spectacles. 

“I wouldn’t say consorting, as such, but we’ve become acquainted,” Killian says when she still can’t seem to find her words. 

“Americano,” Emma finally spits out. “Make that a double.” Her brain is trying so hard to catch up to everything but somehow hearing Killian describe them as not-quite-consorting is the comforting wake-up she needed. 

“There she is!” Killian’s exuberant tone jolts her a little bit, but she snorts a little and shakes her head. 

“I’m good now, Jones. Thanks.”

“No worries, love. Happy to help.” 

She remembers hearing the endearment the first time, that split-second instinct she had to correct him and tell him she was nothing to him at all, before she realized she’s been called the same by Robin and Will on more occasions than she can count.

Killian waits with her until the coffee is in her hands and walks the short length down to where they have to split in opposite directions to go to their places of employment. Emma tries not to linger once they get to that point, not wanting to hold him up from getting to work on time.

“Until tomorrow, then?” he asks, a gentle hint to the words. There’s something in his expression that speaks volumes more than his voice does, though.

“Until tomorrow, Jones.” She gives him a sly smile when she does it, lifting her coffee in thanks like he did the morning they officially met. 

At lunch time, she’s feeling a little more like herself thanks to the coffee, but her energy is flagging and she realizes she never even ate breakfast, either. Just a granola bar she had in her desk from who knows when. 

“I’m gonna walk down to Granny’s and get some lunch. What do you want?”

“Usual burger and fries?” David sounds as drained as she feels thanks to the stacks of files he’s been working on all morning, so she makes up her own mind to bring back more coffee to save them both from the ancient pot they still keep in the corner for some reason. 

There’s something a lot more enticing than caffeine waiting in the diner, however, since she spots Killian in one of the booths almost as soon as she enters. He’s elbow deep in a stack of pages, oblivious to the world around him as it all bustles along. Instead, she has a suspicion that whatever he’s reading is where he lives now. 

She wars with herself over whether or not to disturb him when he looks so engrossed, but it also looks like he hasn’t stopped in a while if his half-eaten lunch is anything to go by. With a quick stop by the counter, Emma places her to-go order and asks for a refill on Killian’s drink. 

There’s a knowing arch to Granny’s eyebrow as she hands over the coffee and Emma pretends not to notice it, instead telling the older woman to let her know when her order is all ready. 

“Careful, Jones. You look like you’re about to blow a fuse,” Emma says as she reaches the table, leaning casually against the other side of the booth after setting his drink in the last clean space. Even with the blatant approach, Emma can still tell she’s surprised him by the way he jumps a little in his seat. It takes a moment for him to speak, his eyes never leaving the page.

“I have to concentrate a little harder when there are beautiful women standing beside my temporary work space,” comes his response as he marks his spot on the page he’s working through. It’s then that he looks up at her, his eyes shining with humor but also the truth of his words. She knows it; she has a thing about people and lies. So of course she blushes, averting her eyes to scan around his mess of a table.

“I figured you were more of a neat, orderly pile kind of person,” she says with a gesture to the table. “I mean, you just seem the type.”

If he notices her weird tone of embarrassment, he ignores it. “You’re not wrong. I’ve just been so lost in the stories here that I’ve let the chaos take over a little bit. Thankfully, everything is numbered, or else I’d be in trouble.” “Why read here? Don’t you have an office with that fancy publishing company?”

“I do. It’s a very small, very modest office that I probably sit in more often than my home. But it also has other people who don’t like to respect my closed door in the afternoons. Namely, of course, Will Scarlet.”

She chuckles at that, not entirely surprised that he would choose to escape instead of trying to deal with Will. “Of course he wouldn’t.”

“And you? What brings you in? You look far more alert than you did this morning, by the way.”

“Thanks, I think? I’m here for lunch and coffee. We’re just getting started trying to get the old reports all transfered to our digital format. I love him, but David primarily uses the single fingers typing method that’s popular with dads and I couldn’t stand the sound of it anymore.”

“Emma!” They both jolt at the calling of her name, looking over to see Granny holding the bag with her order inside.

“Speaking of which, sounds like I’m up. I guess I should leave you to it, then. Wouldn’t want to add to your distractions list.”

“For the record, Swan, you’re always welcome to interrupt my work without ending up on my naughty list.” There’s just something about the way he says the line that Emma thinks is 99.9% totally innocent, but the very use of the word “naughty” has her 100% sure he could take it in a very dirty direction if given the chance. The most shocking part is that she kinda wants to walk right into it. “And thanks for the refresher on the coffee.”

“Don’t fry your brain,” she comments before pushing away from the booth and collecting her lunch. With reluctance, she walks out the door instead of going back to the damn booth and taking up more of his time. 

-x- October 11: Friday & October 18: Friday

The rest of the work week passes quickly, with greetings to Killian in the mornings, steady work in the afternoons, and dinner spent alone in the evenings. With each new day, her conversations with Killian got a little longer, more drawn-out, and she was finding out so much more about him.

By that Friday, they’ve talked about work, and bickered about the best toppings to go on waffles, what their sweet tooth go-to is. And then, again, their habits change a little bit more.

“Are you going out tonight?” she asks, not even sure what prompted her to say anything. She wasn’t initially planning on heading to the bar after her shift, but their morning topic of pet ownership is apparently enough that it makes her want to talk to him more. 

“Maybe,” he tells her. He means “yes” if his expression is anything to go on.

“Maybe isn’t yes, Jones.”

“It’s not a no, either,” he tells her, reaching up to push her hair off her shoulder with his hook. With that same smug expression on his face, he waves goodbye and leaves her outside Granny’s to get her coffee. One of these days she’s just going to steal his as retribution for saying that Pop-Tarts are not a suitable breakfast. 

He does make an appearance that night, sitting between herself and Snow after he wanders in with Will. She can already tell that he’s worming his way into Snow’s heart, and while that will ultimately make her life more complicated when the other woman starts pressuring her to date him, at least she’ll have her sister’s approval. 

He doesn’t stay long, claiming at one point that he could very well fall asleep on his walk back home. Emma is this tempted to ask if he wants her to walk with him, but he bumps her shoulder companionably and says he’ll see her on Monday before he rises from the table and walks to the bar to pay his tab. 

She keeps her eyes peeled on her own walk home to make sure he isn’t asleep somewhere along the route, just to be safe, and that’s damning enough on its own to indicate how she feels about him. 

The next Friday, she’s lost in thought picking up dinner from Granny’s when the voice of Will Scarlet intrudes her personal space. 

“Get your boyfriend to go out with us tonight. He’s refusing to leave his office,” he says bluntly, sliding up next to Emma at the counter. She’s thrown for a second by the word ‘boyfriend’ and stares at him for a moment before she realizes Will’s talking about Killian.

“Killian’s not my boyfriend,” she says, trying not to sound too bristly.

“Well, not with that bloody attitude he’s not,” Will says, grin still in place.

“Go away.”

“I will as soon as I’ve got food for that prickly bastard I work with.”

“Why’s he prickly?”

“He’s been locked away in that bloody office all week. Never left the room except for toilet breaks today. Propped a chair in front of the door so I couldn’t get in to try to make him break for lunch.”

“Doesn’t his door have a lock?”

“Do you really think a locked door can keep me out?”

It’s none of her business, not really, but she’s still a little concerned about that much work. 

“C’mon, Lady Sheriff. I figure if anyone is going to get him to cut back a little bit and take a night to recharge, it’ll be the woman he fancies.”

There are so many things for her to unpack in that sentence.

“I’m the deputy,” she corrects almost absently because the rest of her brain and a thumping portion of her heart are still stuck on the idea that Killian fancies her - the very British way for Will to say that he like likes her. Has he said that out loud to Will? Does he talk about her?

“I don’t have his number or anything. It’s not like I can just text him and tell him what to do.”

“Okay then, you can take him the dinner I was planning on dropping off and use your womanly charms to get him away from that bloody computer screen for a night.”

Emma snorts at the idea of trying to use any kind of womanly charms, since she hasn’t used those since she was helping chase bail skips back in her early twenties. She doesn’t think Will has the same ideas as she does when she hears those words, and thank goodness for that. 

In the end, when the food is ready to go, Emma takes the bag from Will. “Fine. But only because he’s probably so sick of your face that he’d just as soon starve than open that door for you again.”

Will is clearly torn between celebrating that his plan has worked and being an ass about her reasoning, but Belle walks in and diverts his attention, so Emma starts edging towards the door with the two bags of food in hand.

“You know where the building is, yeah?”

“I do.”

“Turn to the left past reception and it’s down the second hall to the right.”

It’s almost pointless that Will gave her the directions, since there’s only one office in the whole building that seems to be lit up. The rest of the place is deserted, but his door is propped open and she’s about to knock, but takes a moment instead to appreciate how intense Killian looks while he’s working. 

He’s chewing on his lip, eyes scanning his computer screen with fervor. He’s wearing glasses, which she’s never seen before, and even though she’s been standing here for at least thirty seconds, he still hasn’t seemed to notice she’s there with how deep he’s in the story. With a shifting of bags, she lightly knocks on the doorframe to catch his attention. 

“If you’ve come to get me out of this office, you’ll have to try harder than by bringing me food.”

“Even if it’s really good food?” Emma asks. “I see you unblocked the door.”

Killian’s head snaps up so fast that she’s sure he’s given himself whiplash.

As such, his voice is breathless when he says her last name, as if she’s a mere mirage standing in his doorway and he is a man dying of thirst. With the expression on his face, she’s pretty sure that’s not far from the truth. 

“You’re not Will.”

“And thank god for that,” Emma says, finally entering his office and presenting him with the bag of food marked with his name on it. 

“Ah, but he sent you,” Killian retorts as he accepts the bag. He sees the second bag in Emma’s hand. “Do you have time? Would you like to eat, as well?”

She hesitates for a moment, thinking about how all she was going to do was drop off the food and go, maybe remind him to drink water or something, but he looks like he could use the company of someone other than the fictional characters in front of him. “Sure,” she finally says, moving the chair in front of his desk closer so she can place her own food on the surface. 

As they each eat their dinners, Killian tells her more about the project he’s been assigned. 

“It’s a relatively short book compared to the other projects I’ve worked on, but because of how much is riding on this one thing, I feel like I’m hyper-obsessing over every detail. I read the whole thing that day you saw me at the diner, and I’m still in the first chapter making edits and comments because I keep wondering if it’s the right call or not. I meet the author in a couple weeks and I want to have more than three pages marked up before that day.”

“You need to stop psyching yourself out so much,” Emma concludes as she pops another onion ring in her mouth. “And you definitely need to ease up on the time in the office. How long ago did everyone leave today?”

“Most cut out by three on Fridays.”

“So you’ve just been here for three hours working by yourself in a dark office building? With the front door unlocked?”

“It’s Storybrooke, love. Who’s going to even want to come here?”

“You have a point, I guess.” She wipes her hands with a napkin, shoving her trash back in the bag and crumpling it up. “But still, you should consider going out with everyone tonight. Or at least going home and drinking a lot of water and thinking about self-care.”

“Will you be included in this everyone?” He sounds a little quiet, a little unsure, a little nervous when he asks. 

The woman he fancies, marches back through her head and Emma’s heart flutters a little. “Yeah,” she says, with no intentions of teasing him or leading him on. She gives a little shrug, smirking along with it. “Besides, it’s… also my birthday. Just so you know.”

“Today?” His full attention is on her, now, even forgetting about the fry that was halfway to his mouth.

“Tuesday, but since it’s a weekday, we’re celebrating tonight.” The wheels are turning behind those tired eyes and she knows she almost has him. “You can tell me about how you finished this chapter when you get to the bar tonight.”

“Maybe,” he says, but there are cracks in the facade he’s trying to hold onto.

“Maybe isn’t yes, Jones.” Last Friday comes back to mind, and she thinks this may just be the start of a routine or something now if he keeps this up. 

“It’s not a no either, Swan,” he says with a smile that she’s beginning to recognize as the same she gets on her face when she thinks about him. She is so screwed. 

“Yeah, I know,” she says, standing from her chair and flippantly tossing the trash from her dinner into the wastebasket by his desk. “See you later.” She winks when she says it, and his responding smile gives away that he’ll definitely be there. 

-x- October 18: Friday

Fifteen minutes after Emma gets to the bar, she finally orders her drink. She knows Killian will show, but it’s a matter of how much longer. The drink has barely been in front of her for thirty seconds when she hears the door open and close again. She doesn’t even flinch when he appears by her elbow and orders his usual. 

With a casual glance, she sees that he’s still in his suit and tie. He looks a little ruffled from the long day, but even at what she’s sure is a rough state, he still looks like she’d like to kiss him. That thought isn’t new, but the intensity of it is.

“What a surprise to see you, Jones.” She takes a sip of her drink before she looks at him again. 

He’s shaking his head, looking like he’s trying not to smile but she gets to watch the grin fully bloom as he fails to keep a straight face. He glances around the empty tables where everyone usually congregates. “Where is everyone?”

“Well, I told Will that you wouldn’t go out unless we went to Aesop’s Tables. So I assume that’s where he is. And David and Snow had plans tonight.”

“Trying to get me alone, Swan?”

“I figured you could use a night to decompress without Will challenging you to a chugging contest.”

“You’re a savior, you know that?”

“I’ve been called that once or twice,” she admits, grabbing her drink and standing from the barstool. “Let’s go.”

“Go?”

“Yeah. Decompress. I have darts. You have a long week to put behind you. We both have good, strong drinks. Let’s go.”

He still looks baffled by the whole thing, and Emma’s not really sure why she’s so intent on trying to get him to loosen up, besides the fact that he’s one of the most put-together people she’s ever met and to see him a little disheveled is… kinda nice. She turns him and nudges him towards the other end of the bar where the dartboards are set up.

“Oh!” Killian stops in his tracks in front of her for a second and turns around. “What about your birthday?”

“What about it?”

“You said you were supposed to celebrate tonight.”

Emma fights with the smile forming on her lips. “Yeah, I did.”

“You didn’t have plans,” he says, the words tinted with a bit of confusion, but it’s definitely a statement. 

“Nope,” she says, popping the last consonant. “C’mon. Tell me about your book thing.” She gets him moving again with a gentle jab to the middle of his chest. 

And he does. As soon as they settle into a rhythm at the boards, Killian goes through the general premise of the twist on fairy tales. His arms are constantly moving as he talks, something that Emma finds fascinating. The impressive part is how he can do that and still throw without really concentrating. Sometimes, however, that doesn’t mean the throw is good.

“I haven’t played in a while,” he confesses after his first dart ends up on the floor and the second ends up embedded in the light cover above the board.

“Mmmhmm. Keep telling yourself that’s the reason,” Emma teases, collecting the darts and hitting three numbers she needs.

The game progresses with ease, however, and they keep up a steady conversation with the music buffering them from the other patrons and conversations. Round 1 ends up going to Emma. 

“He still has one detail I wouldn’t have written if it were my book,” he tells her when they’re deep in round two. 

“Oh?”

“There’s the ever-present failsafe: True Love’s Kiss.”

“And why wouldn’t you have written that into the stories?”

“Because if these are twisted tales, why should that be the save-all? Case in point, what if it were a curse instead of the fixer?”

“What do you mean?” She takes her throw, but it’s a bad shot. She’s officially more interested in what he’s saying so her game is going to shit.

“Bear with me a moment. In most stories, that kiss is the thing that fixes everything, breaks the curse, completes someone, etc. etc.”

She nods as she takes a sip of her drink which is slowly becoming more water than alcohol from the ice melting. It’s clear he’s on a roll, both in telling the story and with the darts. With the first throw, he hits the triple 20. 

“So if I were to meet and kiss my true love, in Henry’s version, I would live happily ever after. But if I were the one twisting the fairy tales, my true love would turn into a hand. The thing that would literally complete me, so to speak.” The second dart hits the outer ring of single 19, leaving him with one more dart and only needing the double bullseye to win the game. 

“Then I’d just be this poor, lonely bastard with a reminder of this great love I was owed and instead have a hand to carry around at all times.” The dart goes flying, sinking into the middle of the board with ease. He spins, his look of disbelief fighting with the full-blown smile taking over his face. All Emma can do is laugh. 

“One hell of an ending, Jones,” she says, not sure if she’s talking about the game or the curse. “But for the record, I hope you don’t think that a missing limb makes you any less whole.”

He’s at the dartboard collecting the darts when she says it, and he leaves two of them on the board as he comes back to the table they’re set up at. She’s surprised the words even came out of her mouth, unsure of where the need to tell him that came from. 

“I did once, after it first happened. I was young and suddenly down one hand, discharged from the Navy because of it, and had no direction.”

“How did you find your way again?” 

It’s so close to home. She thinks about being 18 and alone in Tallahassee, trying to find any way she could to make money to get back to David and Storybrooke without breaking down and asking him for money.

“Mostly with the help of my brother, Liam. He kept me moving forward when I wanted to slide down the hill.”

“That’s one of the perks of having a brother,” Emma says, clearing her throat and taking a sip from her drink. 

“It certainly is,” he replies. Sensing the shift in tone, Killian offers to refresh their drinks. 

“Sure. But light on the vodka in this one.”

While he’s getting the drinks, she shakes off the memories. Maybe she should share with him that they have more in common than a route to work, but she also thinks that can be saved for another time. Because although they still haven’t exchanged numbers or full back-stories, she feels like this is all much bigger than a morning routine, now. 

They throw for best out of five. In the end, Killian is the victor of their mini-tournament. 

“Re-beginner’s luck,” Killian tells her as they settle their tabs and wish Jefferson a goodnight.

When they step outside, they start a slow, meandering walk back towards their homes. The October wind picks up, whipping her hair around her face and forcing her to zip her jacket up all the way. Without meaning to, Emma ends up huddled against Killian’s side, trying to escape the bitter wind. Somehow in the mix, she also ends up holding onto his arm, enjoying the way the fabric of his suit jacket feels beneath her fingertips. There’s a little smile on his face when she glances up at him, and when his eyes meet hers she can’t help but notice the way a quiet affection shines through. 

They don’t talk much, mostly about the nothings that get lost in the mundane details of their day, like how she’ll start driving the Bug again soon when it gets colder. At this, Killian seems to deflate a little, and she realizes that it’ll bring an end to their walks down the street until the weather warms up again.

“But that’s not for another couple weeks,” she says, trying to make up for the fact that yeah, eventually she won’t be up for frigid commutes to the station in the snow. It’s not until she glances around that she realizes they’ve walked all the way back to her apartment complex. “Oh. This is me,” she says, pointing with her free hand up at the modest building. “I didn’t mean to make you walk this far out of your way.”

“I’m always happy to escort Storybrooke’s finest,” he mentions. “And thank you for getting me to relax tonight. I’d probably still be in that bloody office if it weren’t for you.”

“Or be three sheets to the wind thanks to Will.”

“Again, you’ve saved me in multiple ways today, Swan.”

“And yet, this was my birthday celebration and you got me no gift.”

With a glint in his eyes, Killian sways just the tiniest bit closer. “Only one gift I’ve got to offer,” he says, his index finger going from nervously rubbing a spot behind his ear to tapping his lips twice, the smile that overtakes those lips knowing and teasing and everything she’s wanted to kiss since he touched her hand that first time. 

“Please,” Emma says, her voice dipping low. “You couldn’t handle it.” Even so, she’s moving closer without really meaning to, magnetically pulled towards his body in ways she can’t even explain. 

“Perhaps you’re the one that couldn’t handle it,” he retorts, holding eye contact with her the whole time. 

It’s a challenge. And she doesn’t like backing down from a challenge. 

Her eyes shift between his for a second more, and then she’s hauling him towards her by the lapels on his suit jacket. Their mouths connect, both anticipating, both going for it like there’s a prize for who wrecks the other more. Back and forth they go with who leads and who takes, coming up for air twice in the process, until they’re both breathing heavily and she has to hold onto him to steady herself for an extra second. 

“That was…” he mutters, his voice low.

They sway closer one more time and Emma’s pretty sure he’s going to kiss her again, but suddenly, the flight instinct takes over. She can’t like him. Can’t let him in. With barely a glance up, she decides to ruin the only good thing she’s had going for a while.

“A one time thing. Goodnight, Killian.” She says it with pain in her voice as she gently untangles herself from his embrace. It takes a lot of effort to command her own fingers to let go of his coat lapels and start walking away. 

She doesn’t turn back, doesn’t want to see the look on his face that she knows is the same one on hers. Because they only walk together for part of their daily commutes. Nothing more. More is what leaves her in the middle of the night. More is what falls for her and dies in her arms. More is a lying, cheating asshole.

The door to the building closes firmly behind her, cutting off “more” before it even begins.

 -x-

Chapter 3

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #306

i’m v talkative today so pardon my jabbering below.

What is the strangest type of candy you have eaten? I think I've had one of those lollipops with a bug in it before as a kid? I don't remember. What would be your most ideal profession? A freelance photographer. But I'm honestly starting to lose hope. Have you tried those coloring books for adults? Yeah; it's funny you mention 'em, 'cuz a family friend got me one for my birthday earlier this month. What is a topic you definitely don't want to talk about with anyone? I don't like talking about my sexual history, doesn't matter who you are. It's just uncomfortable. What was your first gaming console? An Atari. Is there something you're eagerly waiting for? What is it? *SLAMS FISTS ON TABLE* MAY NEEDS TO FUCKIN' HURRY. My tattoo appointment is set then. :''') Do you/have you ever belonged to an organization? If so, which one? I was a Girl Scout when I was young. What is something you're very passionate about? Nature conservation, gay rights (equal rights in general, really), the pro-choice movement, and then there are less "important" things like certain hobbies interests and such. I'm sure there are more big ones that are just slipping my mind right now, considering I feel passionately for a shitload of stuff. What are you studying or what was the last thing you studied? I majored in Art & Design with a focus on Photography in college. But guess who dropped out. What was the last present you gave someone? I don't know... I mention enough that I don't have a source of income where I can really buy anything. I think the last thing I did was a Christmas gift for Mom a year or two back of a drawing I did of our late dog Cali, whom she absolutely adored. Do you enjoy plays? If so, what was the latest one you saw? Not really, no. What was the last thing you achieved? PHP has helped me focus on little victories, so prepare for an underwhelming answer haha, but it's something. I Facebook messaged an old friend I really wanted to catch up with, and everyone in group cheered for me. :') It was really heartwarming. What a shocker that this program is really helping me once again. What is something you would like to achieve at some point in your life? I would love love love to take at least one "famous" or award-winning photograph. It'd be such amazing validation that I'm talented at something I love so much. What is one philosophy you have regarding life/living/purpose? That's... difficult to answer seeing as I'm trying desperately to find my purpose. I do try to live by this old quote a therapist said once: "Deal with life, or life deals with you." I think it holds an incredible amount of depth and meaning in such a short phrase. How would you design the inside of your own home? I don't know the details of it, really, besides that shit is gonna look like a Halloween house year-round. I can imagine wanting black furniture, too, and having loooots of decor expressive of what I love and find comfort in. Gotta make a house feel like a home just for me. What is a band you remember liking from your childhood? Backstreet Boys, duh. Do you ever get mad at people for not having the same opinion as you (i.e. abortion being wrong/right, meat-eating being wrong/right)? Two things: it depends on the topic, and "get mad" is the wrong term for what I feel. It's more disgust; ex., I'm repulsed by anti-gay rights people and want absolutely nothing to do with 'em, but I'm not like, mad at them. Do you edit any of your pictures? In what ways? Oh yeah, and it definitely depends on the raw photograph. I edit depending on the mood it emanates; like if you've seen my roadkill photography versus nature shots, there is an extremely distinct difference in editing style and vibe. I'd say in general though, I tend to like to brighten my photographs and add more vibrance. If you like to take pictures, what is your motivation? God, I could write an essay on this. I just love and am so thankful for the fact we can literally freeze time forever with the click of a button and look back on fantastic sights, beautiful moments, memories... It's just magical to me, and I adore contributing to that art. Would you ever consider living anywhere cold? Well yeah, that's my preference, actually. What is your absolute favorite food? The spicy shrimp fritas from Olive Garden, jfc. Would you ever wear snake-skin pants, or other animal clothing? Fuck to the absolute hell no. What foreign country would you like to go to for a shopping spree? Idk, considering I'm not well-versed in the artistic creations of other countries. Perhaps India? Japan? I dunno. If you met your favorite musician, what would you ask him/her? I'm asking for his fucking autograph and a hug while I smile my face in two AND cry lmao. What do you spend most of your day thinking about? I ain't gonna bullshit nobody, my PTSD. In some way or another, he's lurking in that head of mine through memories, flashbacks, wonders of what could have gone differently... but thank God it's no longer in the forefront of my mind after my first PHP. I've come very, very far, but especially when trying to blank out my mind to fall asleep, parts of PTSD strangle my brain until I'm just finally out. I really hope that changes someday. Where is a busy place you would like to go to? Yikes, nowhere, really. I like to avoid busy locations. Do you think video games cause people to become violent? Absolutely not. You are responsible for the decisions you make; music, games, movies, etc. have no deciding voice in stupid shit you do, and it's bullshit that people blame art and entertainment for such things. Vocabulary: What was the last word you learned? I'm unsure. Have you or could you build your own site? Absolutely not from scratch. The closest I've gotten to that is my photography website, but it was through the assistance of Wix. What's the best thing you can cook yourself? Scrambled eggs, haha. I do make some bomb eggs at least. Are there a lot of graffiti around your neighborhood? No. Do you have a hobby that forces you out of the house? If so, what is it? Nature photography. Would you stop eating meat, if you had to raise and slaughter it yourself? Absolutely. God, I want to go vegetarian again... Besides English, what other languages can you speak? I can speak a very little bit of German. Took four semesters of it in high school and became very good at it, but lack of practice has pretty much ruined that. Besides English, what other languages can you read? I can read German well; as in, I can pronounce most words I see, but that doesn't mean I understand what is written. Do you think you could make it as a chef? Gordon Ramsey would deadass kick me off his show on day one, lmao. What's your favorite kind of tea? It marvels me JUST how many tea and coffee questions are in surveys. Anyway, I don't like tea. I am an embarrassment to NC culture. What thing/person/happening has made you the happiest you've been? lask;dfjal;wekrjwe What's the most freeing thing you've ever done? Stealing my happiness back from someone who had no right to hold it all in its entirety. That shit's mine. Do you think today's kids are really impatient? Most, probably, but in some ways I can understand it - at least, in the sense that with the assistance of modern technology and advancements in satiating our wants so quickly, kids just expect it. I definitely believe that patience is something to try to be deeply instilled in everyone, though. I don't have an ounce of it (in most situations) and wish I did. Have you ever tasted birch sap? No. How about the young buds/shoots of spruce trees? No. Which edible flowers have you tasted? One of my favorite Southern experiences is finding a bunch of honeysuckles and tasting the honey (is it technically even honey??). Tastes amazing. My family's hairdresser lives down a beautiful path that sprouts a massive amount of them, and as kids, my sisters and her two boys would go tasting them while our parents talked for so long, or if we were waiting our turn. Good memories. What has been your worst restaurant experience? I'm not sure, really. What's the most immature, adolescent thing that still makes you laugh? "Inappropriate humor type jokes." <<<< They can get me sometimes, too. Have you ever had a life-threatening condition? If so, what was it? No, thankfully. Have you ever had a custom print done on a shirt? If so, what was it? I don't believe so, no. Besides making a tye-dye one in HS with our school colors. Wasn't my idea and never wore it, haha. Do you ever read other people's survey answers? It depends on the person. If it's a friend, absolutely, because I love learning usually obscure things about them I wouldn't have known otherwise. If it's a user I don't know from wherever I got the survey, sometimes, depending on how short the answer is and my eyes kinda just scroll over it. Do you like daytime or night time better? Why? Daytime, especially mornings. I'm generally happier when there's light around. What's your highest level of education so far? Some college. Describe your ordinary day: My average day is embarrassingly uneventful. It's sitting on the laptop doing shit on various sites, none of which are actually important, and playing WoW, which is also without true substance, save for social interactions with my friends on there. I spray Venus' terrarium everyday multiple times as well to keep the humidity up, and obviously eat and handle that kinda bodily needs stuff. Would you ever have a UV tattoo? Ugh, that'd be so dope. I've seen some awesome ones, but idk if I'd get one, considering when am I actually going to be under UV light?? Like I wanna be able to see my tat. What is the brand and color name of your favorite lipstick? I have one black lipstick, but it comes right off so I don't even like it. I only ever put it on to take pictures. What do you like on your tortilla? Just ham and cheese. How about inside your pita bread? I've never had pita bread, actually. What do you like in your burger? It depends on where I'm getting the burger. My basic is cheese, ketchup, mustard, a bit of mayo, pickles, and a light sprinkle of diced onion, but sometimes I add bacon and take away the onions. How about on your pizza? I have three I tend to pick from: pepperoni, jalapeno, or meat lovers. Do you work better alone or in a group? Alone, definitely. Which body part would you not mind losing? I'ma be extremely honest, with just how horribly weak my legs are, I could live without them, I guess. Not saying I want to by any means, it's just exhausting using them. Ideally, I'd take away something minor, like a finger or something. What common saying people use is absolute BS to you? “'Everything happens for a reason.'” <<<< Fuckin' colossal "same." I won't rag on people who believe it, especially if it gives you courage to keep moving forward, but I don't believe it in the slightest. If it were so, I'd like to talk to whoever is in control of those "reasons," please. What is the most interesting thing you’ve read or seen this week? I had no idea elephants were pregnant for two years, like holy shit, can you imagine. It was in an article I saw on Facebook about a mother and daughter elephant who are both expecting and doing well. Wonderful to hear. What’s the most useless talent you have? Ha, I'm a master in the arts of catastrophizing and jumping to conclusions involving people hating me in one way or another. What’s something everyone looks stupid doing? I'm one of those people who hate dabbing done by anybody, like you look like you're just smelling your armpit. Which kids’ movie scarred you for life? I wouldn't say "scarred me for life" by any means, but when I was little, I was terrified of the Wicked Witch from The Wizard of Oz and even had nightmares about her. It sucked because my little sister was obsessed with that movie, haha. In one sentence, how would you sum up the Internet? A source of incredible knowledge but also hate and misinformation. What would be the most ridiculous thing for the government to make illegal? I literally dread the idea of Roe vs. Wade being reversed. Banning abortion would kill so many people with operational uteruses and cause absolute pandemonium. How many friends do you have on social media and how many of them do you know for real? On Facebook, I have 124 friends, and I'd say I know most of them "in real life." However, having been on the Internet since I was so young and befriending loads of incredible people, a good chunk are "online friends." Hell, I'm more interested in their lives than most "real" ones. Long-distance friendships are so valid. What fact amazes you every time you think of it? Lots of things, generally regarding the stupidity of humanity. What’s the most spontaneous thing you’ve ever done? Probably going to the beach w/ my old friend Colleen. We had zero plans of doing it, but she just called me one morning and asked if I wanted to go, and off we went. It was a fun day. What has taken up too much of your life? I'ma be real, WoW. I don't think I'm addicted to it like I once was seeing as I go through spans where I barely want to play it at all and don't, so I truly am capable of not playing it, but rather it's just the most entertaining way to kill time in my life. I just don't like how much time I've invested into a game over six or seven years regardless. Where do you not mind waiting? Uh, nowhere lmao. Is there an app you hate to use, but still use every day? No; why would I use it if that was the case? Who is the funniest person you know? My friend Girt is fucking hysterical. What three words describe you best? Complex, passionate, and creative. What makes you think you’re smart? Lol who says I think I'm smart? Who inspires you? Korean Jesus. Okay on a serious note, not just him, of course, but he's #1 in an entire universe of ways. Do you aspire to be like somebody else? If so, who? No; I want to be my own authentic self. How did you meet your best friend? YouTube, back when it had more social aspects. Which one of your accomplishments are you the most proud of? I want to say my recovery, but like... I wonder a lot if it's "enough" to be proud of with how scarred I still am? I still struggle with a lot and feel like I could be so much better by now if I tried harder. If I'm completely honest with myself, I think it's finishing high school in the top percentile of my graduating class. There was a ceremony for the handful of us and all, and I cherish my plaque probably too much. Reminds me of a time when I knew what the fuck I was doing. What's the strangest thing you ever did as a child? Thinking I had "animal powers" where I could invoke the traits of certain animals at will, like what the actual fuck, Brittany. What did your mother teach you? Christ, a lot. Dad didn't do a lot of the raising, honestly, so much of my core values and whatnot were instilled by my mother. She taught me to care for and be nice to others, respect myself, try my best in everything, and most importantly that she is always there for me and my sisters no matter what and can tell her absolutely anything. She was very serious about us going to college and saving sex for marriage when we were younger, but she diverged from those ideas as absolutely necessary with experience. I'm extremely lucky with who I call my mom, overall. What did your father teach you? Eek... Read above. Not a lot as a kid (save for riding a bike and playing softball); most he's taught me has come following reuniting with him after my parents' divorce. I remember we went to lunch once and talked about my breakup, and he talked to me about sometimes, you just have to let people go in order to be happy, like with him and Mom. He's very serious now about ensuring us girls know that he is always there for us and will help us in any way he's capable. What makes you feel powerful? "Powerful" isn't something I really feel, if I'm being real. What are you ready to let go? It would be inexplicably fantastic if I could let every speck of Jason go in both my head and heart. What is your most bizarre deal-breaker? I don't really find any of my expectations and limits as "bizarre?" They're all valid to me. Well wait, idk if you'd find it strange that I absofuckinglutely would not date someone who hunts, but it's not to me. That's a difference in a very serious value to me. Would you rather be hated or forgotten? Hated. God, I don't want to leave this earth having given just nothing. I can live with some people hating me for whatever reason. What’s the biggest personal change you’ve made? Accepting my bisexuality, probably. That's something that I consider pretty big for two reasons: 1.) I could end up with a woman forever, and especially 2.) I was originally homophobic. I still have difficulty in fathoming how I ever was. What are some of your short-term goals? PHP is finally starting to make me build these again. I want to get better at selfcare, draw, write, and read more, I want to drink a lot more water, exercise way more... Lots of things, really. What is the weirdest thing about you? Uh. I dunno. Probably that I RP meerkats, which is a very obscure RP niche for sure.

[anangelicday-mrwolf]

Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 36 – Disorder in Order

‘I don’t get it.’

The man’s fingers clasped his biceps tighter as his arms were crossed.

The 3rd Elder was seated on his bed, his brain whirring madly in reflection.

The day that QuadraNet’s switch was supposed to be turned on – or rather, the day that according to Helga they would get to find the opportunity they have been waiting for, he fulfilled his mission.

That was the day for him to make good use of the mayhem everyone will go through and pick up any vulnerability or noteworthy factor they could use against the blonde scientist, who will surely prove himself as the tallest, hardest, and mightiest wall for the surviving Union to break through.

And on the D-day, Helga’s words came true.

Apparently all networks connected for the QuadraNet had gone haywire; not even Frankenstein could stay free from alarm.

No, he was more than alarmed; he was in panic.

‘As far as I know, he didn’t take part in the project. That day he was there simply to watch QuadraNet come alive. Which must be why he was so flustered, since he was in no position to do something about it, with no one to answer him, let alone help him.’

During the event, Frankenstein was basically stuck in the middle of his cave expedition, with all the lighting equipment mysteriously sabotaged, trapped in a pitch-dark space with the rest of his team too far away to reach, with no option other than emitting echoes of cries unanswered.

But Frankenstein was no idiot. In fact, when it comes to technology he is a virtuoso, competent enough to make Union covet and compete against him.

So to nobody’s wonder, Frankenstein eventually recovered the transmission and reconnected to the rest, incredibly fast for someone who was invited as a spectator.

Naturally, he could not spare his attention to anything else other than his computers.

Thus he gave 3rd Elder enough time to flaunt his skills in profiling and snooping.

‘Though I had to be extra-careful, in consideration of the person I was snooping about.’

As Frankenstein’s eyes were successfully diverted, 3rd Elder headed to the lab, to make use of the gear he was so thankful he had packed: a spray that reveals fingerprints, a development from a life technology company under Union’s possession, once used by civilians as well.

It evaporates over time, leaving no traces whatsoever once it is gone. And it conveys different hues depending on the time the fingerprint was first left, allowing its user to deduce the order and marking time of each fingerprint.

However, it can no longer be seen among civilians, as it was permanently discontinued following the public concern that it must not be led into the wrong hands.

And 3rd Elder could finally make it useful in order to track down Frankenstein’s most recent cognitive journey.

By taking a look at the files he submitted for the human scientist and files the latter had collected by himself, he would be able to pinpoint the main topic of the files or the topic Frankenstein is most interested in.

And ultimately infer what he is most deeply involved with and what he is planning, for the Union to prepare against in advance.

The 3rd Elder gave a little tip regarding this, by telling Helga that Frankenstein specified he intends to find out the reason behind the Noblesse’s mysterious return to life.

Which Helga did not buy.

Listening to you, now there is no doubt it is our gravest woe and fear that the Union had failed in making an ally out of him. Now that he is undeniably our enemy, we should be wary of his every word and action. And do you honestly think he was being honest with you?

He wanted to retort by correcting her assumption – Yes, you can trust him. He’ll never lie when it comes to his master – but he did not; after all, she did have a point.

‘By the way, how come I momentarily got so close to taking his side back then?’

The white-haired man shook his head to tune out a tiny voice within, to instead clutch his arms even tighter and reassess what his scavenging revealed for him.

He decided to add weight to Helga’s claim and delved into as thoroughly as possibly the files Frankenstein had been dissecting, to gain nothing in particular.

The volume and contents were beyond his imaginations, but all in all Frankenstein’s files were centered on similar topics.

Revival. Extension of life. Inducing coma or pseudo-coma state. Definition of biological death. And all that jazz.

QED, they were mostly related to life and death.

‘Which means he was staying true to the goal of his research he shared with me.’

Despite his disappointment, 3rd Elder did not deem his exploration a waste of time.

Which is why he was so puzzled.

‘For some strange reason, I found most of his fingerprints not on his files but on the cup he’d always place on his table. And on the equipment used to generate chemical drink. And he’s touched it very recently.’

To say “most of his fingerprints” was an understatement; for a moment 3rd Elder had thought he became a detective excavating a drug addict’s lair.

So he did not hesitate in pulling out a specially designed slip of paper to dip into Frankenstein’s cup for a sample.

All he has to do is to take the paper to Helga for analysis; this is where a problem arises.

‘The camera and recording device Frankenstein implanted in me may be dormant, but as of now I can’t send this to Helga. Not with Lady Lunark paying visits to this island. Not to mention no chance in hell will she ever trust me. Which means I must be the one to analyze the contents of Frankenstein’s drink.’

The job is neither impossible nor difficult, given that he is provided with appropriate apparatus.

He had trained himself in theories and practices in experiments, having orchestrated and participated in several experiments and projects at the Union.

‘But the only equipment I can use in this place all belong to Frankenstein. I’ll need distraction to use them.’

A single chance – that was all he needed.

A single chance of disturbance equal to the recent uproar affiliated with the QuadraNet. Or Frankenstein’s urgent trip to the werewolf realm.

‘Then it’d be less than a gulp to run the analysis,’ sighed 3rd Elder, his mind tracing back to the transparent plastic bag he had hidden, containing the paper slip safe from oxidation.

‘Should I place an order for disorder to Helga? She’s the one who commanded both occasions.’

Marveling once again at her leadership, 3rd Elder had yet to realize that his chance would come much faster than expected.

*****

It has been days since the night at a café by the beach of Incheon, Korea.

Because of which Yuigi has grown more comfortable around Takio.

The awkwardness and discomfiture she had been haunted with ever since she was parted from Union without consent were pretty much no more.

Nonetheless, Yuigi did not define her standing as better.

‘So let’s say I continue to help him locate Union’s facilities and gain his gang’s trust. And free myself from this choker. But then what? Once the last of the Union is gone, what should I do? What am I supposed to do with my life from then on?’

Driven by the searing guilt that she could not protect her brother and sister, Yuigi had lived a life of obsession with power.

Notwithstanding, she lost the powers she has so very feverishly nurtured. She lost the association and purpose that were entailed.

The life of Raciela, the sister of Arthur and Hailey, had long been disconnected from her.

The life thrusted upon her was the life of Yuigi, a member of the Cerberus, one of the top personal guards of the Union.

And Yuigi’s life was robbed from her over a mere day.

And she had no way to return to Raciela’s life.

She has come too far to indulge in ordinary life now. After all, she was now used to dubbing herself as Yuigi, surrounded by people who treat her as Yuigi, not Raciela.

She was reminded of a fairy tale she once read for her siblings: a story of a frog rejected by all animals.

The frog was born from water, to dwell in and dance across both earth and water once fully matured.

Alas, the frog’s gift of mobility in two completely unidentical domains won itself hatred from creatures of both domains. The creatures of water resented the frog’s ability to walk upon solid ground they could not even dream of; creatures of land were more than unhappy to see a native of aquatic dominion, reckoned inferior by the terrestrial-born, was treading along their footprints.

So in unison, they rejected the frog, to make sure it could find respite in neither the earth nor the water.

‘And looks like I’m the frog right now.’

Also, she had been plagued with void within, now that her life as Yuigi was lost as well. And she knew not how to get rid of the void.

She knew that she could not join what remained of the Union.

‘That’s just unimaginable, as long as this leash stays on me. Besides, even without this choker, I can’t possibly do that. Because...’

At then Yuigi fell heavily in silence, which was already hung upon her entire being.

Because?

Because what?

‘Why would you bring up the term at the moment? Don’t tell me you’ve grown a liking to that guy just because he’s been taking care of you.’

Yuigi violently shook her head, as if a bug had dived into her hair.

She shook her head so hard she thought she could hear her skull vibrating.

No, she actually felt like the entire safehouse was vibrating.

‘...Wait a minute.’

She reconsidered her thought, upon checking the water left in the cup on the table.

She could swear upon her life that nothing in the safehouse was moving, herself included, but the water was trembling, as if there were a quake.

As Yuigi fixed her eyes upon the cup, similar effect started to inflict the possessions within the safehouse, including the chair she was sitting in, the table she set her elbow upon, and the dishes inside the sink that were clattering in a nervous beat.

Just when Yuigi was trying to conjecture what could these be signaling, with a BAM the walls constructed to stand sturdy against majority of firearm and missiles spit out thousands of splinters, like a glass window hit by a brick.

Yuigi was swept in the aftermath and flung through the air, to be caught in the constructions and objects that had been composing the safehouse just a second ago.

Had she not been a modified human, and had Frankenstein employed materials less substantial, she would have never stood on her feet again.

Holding her head in her hand in a desperate attempt to do something about her eardrums, being bombarded with screeches due to the explosion, Yuigi could soon make out the highly likely suspect of the unappreciated delivery of disorder.

Fortunately her eyes were still functional, and she caught the sight of a huge man with hair the color of hay and face similar to that of a gigantic toad.

“...Could sme... I kn... Ver wrong.”

Yuigi had to squint to process what he was talking about, due to the noises that were still whipping up in her ears.

“...Was told... Ract tho... Not thi... Et you here.”

The man smirked, making himself look even more like a toad, with his eyes on Yuigi.

“No offe... Old to do... Be happie... Once I... Ally be... Anding at the spotlight!”

Before Yuigi could catch her breath after she was sure her ears have somewhat returned to normal, the man lunged towards her.

(next chapter)

I introduce you a new character - yes, he is an OC, and he is a supporting character. However, I added him for a reason, and you’d soon get to see why. Stay tuned for more!

[hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger]

The thing I love about Otto, he is the guy who...Peter Parker is supposed to be the everyman, and in a lot of ways he is, but he is always dating the most beautiful women in the world...supermodels, Gwen Stacy...And Otto was the guy, I am not a big fan of the late-90s as an era of Spider-Man. There was a character called Stunner who came along and was this big Amazonian woman with super-strength, who was Otto's partner and love-interest and the big reveal was that she was a virtual reality simulation and the real person was an overweight woman in a virtual reality machine. But when Otto finds out he says, I didn't love you for what you looked like, I loved you for your mind...I can’t remember if she [Aunt May]  saw Betty [Brant] as a bit of a Jezebel because she was older

We er...we really need to unpack this. I already did a post where I cited the above as part of why Christos Gage should never have been allowed to write Spider-Man.

But lets dive deeper into the idiocy of this. 

First of all if nothing else the above quote and panels really do prove beyond doubt that Marvel knew what they were doing when they paired Slott and Gage...well sorta. Gage and Slott’s approaches to Spider-Man fundamentally come from the same place of fundamental misunderstanding and regressive beliefs thus they were perfect to work together. It’s just that Gage is a comparatively more competent writer than Slott and therefore Slott should’ve been HIS understudy and fill-in guy not the other way around.

So let’s dive into the less awful bits first. Like Slott Gage doesn’t know his continuity and is too lazy to even google it.

Let’s put aside how Stan Lee himself  stated Betty Brant is younger  than Peter NOT older, the age difference would’ve been insignificant enough (Peter was a senior in high school when he was dating Betty, that’s stated in the issues) so what is this ‘Jezebel’ crap? The fact his mind would go to that rather than just Aunt May thinking MJ would be a better match is at best eyebrow raising.

Moving on, the crux of his assessment of Otto and Stunner’s relationship is way off the mark. Ignoring the fact that Stunner and the reveals made about her occurred in 1994-1995 (so literally not the LATE 1990s at all), he’s totally distorted the story as it unfolded. As such let me show you some of the relevant pages.

Gage’s assessment of Otto and Stunner’s relationship hinges upon two interconnected ideas.

a) Otto was unaware that her stunning appearance was a facade and

b) That he didn’t care upon finding out

As you can see that is a distortion of what the actual stories conveyed.

Otto was always  aware Stunner’s appearance was a facade because he invented the technology that made it possible in the first place!

Otto also began dating her BEFORE she became Stunner. This does indeed support the idea that for him outer beauty is not that relevant. 

For myself I find this idea debatable for a few reasons. Not only in the above images does he directly refer to Stunner as beautiful and the love of such a beautiful woman makes him happy but in the classic Spec #75 Bill Mantlo implies Otto took a fancy to Felicia due to her being attractive.

I grant you it’s far from impossible to interpret that Otto in fact was referring to Stunner’s personality as beautiful and took a shining to Felicia for reasons beyond her looks. In fact I find that interpretation interesting. But both examples hurt the narrative of Otto being a man who doesn’t care about outer beauty, even before you get to the fact that in Superior he was oggling and actively trying to fucking rape Mary Jane! What exactly about her  ‘inner beauty’ led to him doing this?

Then of course you have his relationship with Aunt May which has been treated as genuinely romantic when it’s very unlikely to be that.

The truth is Doc Ock has been inconsistently written over the decades so pinning down that he’s a man who doesn’t care about a woman’s outer beauty in regards to his feelings for them is extremely iffy.

His dynamic with Stunner and Gage’s assessment is even iffier as the pages detailing his ‘courting’ of her prior to her becoming empowered can definitely be interpreted as him actively manipulating her for his own ends. He needed a test subject for his technology, a technology he was hoping could essentially ensure he’d live beyond the demise of his mortal body and mind (which obviously happened in Superior). Angela was that test subject, he either came across or scouted her out with the explicit intention of having her use his machine. 

Because we only get brief flashes of their relationship it’s unclear if he was 100% decieving and manipulating her (as he was to Anna Maria and Mary Jane) or if he was sincere in his affections, at least on some level. Maybe he even started out manipulating her but grew to genuinely care for her before or after her transformation into Stunner.

My point is it’s not this grand moral victory for Otto that he cared for Angela even though she was overweight.

Which brings me to the most damning thing about Gage’s comments.

According to him Otto is better than Peter because Otto didn’t date supermodels or sexy cat burglars.

Much like all his work with Otto before and during his Superior run, Gage practically wanks off the character.

You see Otto is ‘different. He’s not like ‘those other guys’, or more specifically ‘that Peter Parker guy’. HE doesn’t date supermodels or sexy cat burglars. 

He just keeps the sexy cat burglars as his ‘guests’ that he won’t let leave his lair, will date by deception and attempt to rape the supermodels and will probably manipulate vulnerable overweight women for his own selfish scientific pursuits and date them sincerely once they’ve transformed into wrestling divas.

Of course in reality, romantic and sexual attraction is something none of us can help and we are going to feel about whoever however we’re going to feel, and the harsh truth is a lot (but not all) of the time outer appearences do matter, or at least they do when it comes to initial attractions. Often in healthy relationships they matter less as time goes by, but are rarely totally irrelevant. Nobody, of any sex, gender or sexuality, is shallow for on some level taking looks into account for how they feel about a romantic or sexual partner, at least on some level.

In Peter’s case Gage’s assessment (which synchs up with Slott’s) of him as shallow is so asinine because he clearly doesn’t just care about looks. In fact semi-famously in the classic Romita stories his initial attraction for Mary Jane fades after he (incorrectly, and unfairly) starts to view her as shallow and little more than her looks.

No doubt about it that chicks’s as pretty as a pumpkin seed...and just about as shallow.

ASM #45*

Peter late of course dumps  Black Cat in part because she doesn’t love him for who he is, and only cares about him as Spider-Man. He wants someone who will share a life with him, whom he can connect with. If he was only interested in her because she was sexy why would he do that?

And of course this is to say nothing of the absolute denigration Gage’s comments pay to both MJ and her relationship with Peter.

I’ve felt this way for awhile now but to be blunt, if a writer ever just sums up MJ as a ‘supermodel’ I’m going to presume they either don’t understand her character and/or hold some messed up opinions. Putting aside how MJ hasn’t a model (super or otherwise) for most of her history it’s just messed up that everything else about her is dismissed in favour of pushing that profession and treating it as a summation of who she is as a character.** 

Because whenever creators or characters sum up MJ as a supermodel what they really mean is ‘she’s just a shallow, pretty face’.  Which is so facepalm worthy ironic because the crux of Mary Jane’s entire character since The Death of Gwen Stacy in 1973  has been that people THINK she is just a shallow pretty face but she in fact absolutely isn’t!

And aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaall the stuff that is relevant to why she isn’t is literally the reason Spider-Man fell in love with her in the first place. All the guilt, regret, insecurities, bravery, sense of responsibility and inner strength that subverted what we thought we knew about her, that’s the shit that her and Spider-Man’s romance is built upon. 

How the fuck does anyone miss that! It’s not even like you need to read deeply to see it, just read a Wikipedia entry!

It isn’t the crux of Felicia’s character, but the same applies to her. What jackass in this day and age (or indeed since the 1980s) honestly thinks Black Cat is nothing but sex appeal? There is an entire goddam Black Cat ongoing series demonstrating she is more than that! Gage is a goddam relic at this point!

On the flipside of course is poor Anna Maria.

Once upon a time Anna Maria was the best character in Spider-Man. Back in the dark days of 2013 and 2014 when Superior was going strong, MJ was out of the picture and the best Spider-Man books on the stand were about a kid replacing a dead AU Peter Parker and Peter Parker’s clone, Anna Maria was a stand out.

A new character with a personality, likable, a new love interest for ‘Spider-Man’ that on paper made a certain amount of sense even though the circumstances were disgusting. And on top of that she provided a dash of representation that was handled in an appropriate way.

As time went by she gradually devolved as a character and went way off the rails to the point where now she’s being a misogynistic asshole to other women by judging them for their looks. It’s so fucked up because she herself has been judged for her looks, just in a very different way whilst the likes of those ‘shallow’ women she cites have never said a bad word to her or to my knowledge anyone else on the basis of how they were born. 

Good job Gage, this is probably the last time we’re going to see Anna Maria and you’ve fully transitioned me from a guy who kind of wanted her to stick around in some capacity as a regular supporting player for Peter into a guy who would be delighted for her to forgotten and never appear again. 

Fuck Gage.

Fuck Superior

Fuck the entire asinine, mishandled, clusterfuck of an era that outstayed it’s welcome circa December 2012!

*In fairness he does bring up he might just be thinking ill of MJ because he’s upset about other things. See, THAT is a more even handed and on point depiction of Peter Parker being flawed. But Stan Lee being a better writer than Gage or Slott shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone.

**Not to mention ‘supermodel’ shouldn’t even be used as shorthand for ‘shallow person’ in the first place. Are supermodels not people too? Are they incapable of being intelligent or having worth outside of their looks? I mean FFS we live in a world where this (starting at 3:37) really happened:

[shegoesbyarose]

Rapid Descents | T.U.

warnings: angst | words: twoK | pairing: t’challa x reader (black)

You would never forget your first meeting.

You expected grace, stoicism, laced with forced regality.

You’d declined your brother’s offer to accompany him on his visit to Wakanda as part of finalizing a treaty between your country and his. You desired to stay home and fulfill your role as the princess while your brother, the king, handled the politics.

Yet, you were forced, dragged out of the safety of your homeland and forced to venture into this previously unknown entity known as Wakanda.

You marveled at its beauty, the futuristic tech that placed it atop every list among even the greatest of nations.

The all-female army, strong and fearless, inspired you, making you wish that your own army was less male-oriented.

However, you were especially left in awe as you were presented to his grace, head held high, your ensemble consisting of only the finest silk and jewels, your tiara fitted perfectly over your faux locs.

You’d heard many things about him. He was both a warrior and king, a strange dual role that seemed like an oxymoron.

Yet, your first meeting left you both dumbfounded and intrigued.

Handsome and seemingly kind, his smile was small, contained almost. His eyes a doorway to secrets one would never be able to extract yet inviting to his royal guests. He stood tall, his posture immaculate, and when his gaze fell on you, you could not deny the apprehension that crept up your being.

His gaze was soft yet questioning. As he spoke, his voice lucid and subdued, he kept his eyes glued to yours, watching with transparent interest as you lifted your hands to sign your introduction.

He paused for a quick second. You assumed he was surprised. That was when your brother informed him that you were mute, rendered speechless for many years.

You were grateful that he elaborated no further than that.

An unfamiliar feeling settled into your stomach as you watched him not offer an apology with his mouth, but with his hands, smoothly introducing himself.

T’Challa

For some reason, you liked his name. It seemed to fit him.

It did fit him.

Your time in Wakanda was set to last approximately three to four weeks and while you brought with you enough books to consume your time as you waited for when the time came to come home, very few were actually touched.

T’Challa was the first to offer you a tour of his country. Well, your brother, but he insisted that you come, something that visibly irked your older brother. Pleased and humbled, you accepted.

You weren’t sure if it was intentional but the two members of the Dora Milaje who accompanied the three of you spent more time talking to your brother, so much so that you almost had the king’s undivided attention.

As he pointed everything out from the technology to the scenery to the people, you found your smile tattooed on your face. He spoke while he signed, and you were in love with the sound of his voice, the tranquil facets soothing to your ears.

You loved how he would always finish a statement by looking at you, silently asking if you needed clarification. Almost every time, you would shake your head no, praying that he would never stop.

You enjoyed his presence.

You enjoyed it a lot.

From tours to dinners, what started out as a trio slowly eased into a duo with T’Challa asking you and only you to accompany him on various outings. You almost always accepted too, much to your brother’s chagrin.

He disliked how much time T’Challa spent with you. You loved every minute of it.

He was so intelligent, so kind, yet you could see how behind his calm demeanor lied a fierce warrior. You’d caught a brief glimpse of it when one of his palace guards made the mistake of making a sexually charged and entirely inappropriate comment about your figure.

Eventually, your brother grew frustrated with your growing relationship with the king and tried to forbid you from seeing him. Of course, you strongly opposed and reminded him that you were no longer that helpless little girl who needed her brother to depend on after their parents' untimely death.

You were a woman now, and T’Challa was a man, a good man, one who you were quickly developing strong feelings for.

Things were tense with your brother for a few days, but once he realized that you weren’t going to stop seeing T’Challa, he relented and grew to accept your “relationship” with the king.

T’Challa seemed to enjoy having you with him, introducing you to almost everyone he came across, glaring at his teenage sister who mocked the two of you often, asking why you just didn’t “elope.”

At the time, marriage seemed so far away. You’d only met a few weeks ago. You felt as though there was plenty of time left.

T’Challa spent many evenings in your room, sometimes just watching you as you sketched various sceneries that you’d come across during your many adventures throughout Wakanda.

You typically avoided sharing your artwork with others as art was something you did as a hobby, but with him….there was no hesitation, you sharing your ideas before even starting the project.

Other nights, you laid in bed together, helping him with his sign language or listening to him talk about his day. Sometimes, things became physical, but T’Challa was respectful, never taking you past your comfort zone.

He met you where you were, and you appreciated that.

But the time eventually came where you wanted….more.

He was readying to leave, the clock hitting twelve to signify the onset of midnight.

However, as he rose out of the bed, you reached for his arm, your heart sporadically thumping against your chest as you slowly retracted your hand to sign:

Stay

You’ll never forget the confusion in his eyes, the clenching of his jaw as you reached for the hem of your shirt, lifting it over your head. His eyes burned into yours, refusing to settle on your body as you stripped before him, once again grabbing his hand and directing him back to your bed.

It’d been a while since you’d been intimate with someone, and while you told yourself that you’d make T’Challa wait…..you didn’t want to wait.

You wanted him, and you knew that the feeling was reciprocated.

And while the idea of sexual intimacy with the king unnerved you, it was also something that you strongly desired.

Something that you would also come to greatly enjoy.

The way your bodies intertwined, the feeling of having him between your legs, your name a praise on his mouth as he gave you all of his passion, your claws raking your name across his back, claiming him…it was more than you could have ever imagined him.

Tangled in the sheets, your body buried into his side, you realized that you’d been enchanted by the handsome king: mind, body, and soul.

You never wanted to leave Wakanda, you never wanted to leave T’Challa. You’d fallen deeply for the king and his country during your one month visit, but love could not get in the way of duty.

Your people needed you, and thankfully, that was something understood by your lover.

He knew that you would stay if you could and tried to keep in mind that you planned to come back and visit in only a few weeks.

As you walked out, hand in hand, you noticed that he was strangely quiet. When you asked, he released a hefty sigh and informed that an “old friend” was on his way seeking assistance with something.

He sensed your concern and kissed your forehead, assuring you that everything was going to be fine, and you believed him. Why wouldn’t you?

Saying goodbye was hard but eased by the knowledge that it was only temporary. You’d be back before you knew it, the mental countdown for your reunion starting as soon as you’d taken your seat inside of the private jet.

Never one who enjoyed long plane rides, you quickly made your way to the back of the jet, giving your brother small wave before you decided to try to get some sleep in before you arrive home.

A few hours later, you were awakened as your body was violently thrown against something hard, sending a flash of pain across your entire form.

Blinking rapidly, you tried to look around, but the only thing consuming your vision were items being tussled and thrown about the plane.

What the hell was going on?

Fear coursed through your body as you went to try to stand up but found yourself bound, looking down, you saw the dresser that was previously across from you, on top of your lower body, effectively grounding you.

Your fright was immediately exacerbated as you realized that the plane was free falling right before you were once again tossed across the room, your body on fire. Crying, you tried to scream for help, for your brother, but years of silence conjoined with your panic rendered you speechless.

Everything hurt, the rapid decline of the plane leaving your stomach in a mixture of knots, vomit threatening to leave your mouth.

All you could do was cry, your salty tears mixing with the blood that raced down your body starting from your head to your feet. Eventually, you could no longer contain the vomit, releasing the result of your distress.

You cried harder. What had happened? Where was your brother? What had the pilot done? With the way the descent occurred, you wondered if he was even still at the controls.

It was almost as if he’d stopped flying, mid-flight.

And your brother, where was he?

Your eyes widened as you thought about the most plausible answer to your questions.

The tears continued to spill out.

Was this really how you would meet your end? What of your country? Your people? With both of their rulers dead, how would they survive? Who would commander the throne?

Chills covered you as you thought of T’Challa. Your heart ached. How you wish you had more time with him, had told him how you felt, you were previously confident that he knew, but now you weren’t sure. What if he didn’t know? God, why didn’t you just tell him?

You were so sure that you had time, that it could wait until next time, but now, there would be no next time.

You hadn’t realized that you’d been prolonging your journey to unconsciousness until you became cognizant of how hard it was for you to keep your eyes open.

Your body was on fire, and you were so damn terrified that you were surprised that your heart hadn’t given out on you.

Yet, you refused to allow your last thoughts to be of an ominous nature. Instead, you thought of your parents. You’d missed them so.

You couldn’t wait to see them.

Your brother. He was irksome, but he was your blood. Though you couldn’t see him, you knew he was with you, and it brought you comfort to know that you weren’t alone.

Your love. That one hurt the most. So many regrets, missed opportunities, should have been’s but would now never be.

Your breathing slowed down as your lids finally shut, your heart slowing until there was no beating.

If only you knew.

If only.

~

[metalgearkong]

Captain Marvel - Review

3/25/19

Directed by Anna Boden (Marvel Studios/Disney)

Captain Marvel is the 21st feature film in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and wields the series’ first entry lead by a female hero. YouTubers and bratty bloggers across the internet have given this film a scathing reputation, even before showing in theaters. Say what you want about Brie Larson, I see her as an eager actress who is beginning to break into the mainstream, and is equally excited as she is nervous about being under the spotlight, carrying so much responsibility, and already under so much scrutiny. Somehow I’m charmed and endeared by her imperfection, especially in the PR realm, even if I don’t think I’d click with her in person. Captain Marvel is what you might expect from this franchise: a special effects-heavy character study about an iconic hero, cleanly connecting her to the greater MCU. 

Our protagonist is living her life as a Kree warrior under the name Vers. She has been a part of a Kree attack squad for 6 years, primarily fighting against the Skrull across the galaxy, but can’t recall her life before this time period. Chasing a Skrull to Earth (which had a classification name of M-55 or something to that degree) Vers attracts the attention of the retconed-named SHIELD. I say retconed because at the beginning of Iron Man which took place in 2010, and Captain Marvel taking place in 1995, it doesn’t make sense why they didn’t have an acronym for SHIELD in 2010 but call it “SHIELD” way back in 1995. Vers meets a younger Phil Coulson and Nick Fury, as they begin to learn who she is and where she came from. Vers becomes friends with Fury fairly quickly and easily for an extra-terrestrial (in my opinion), or does Fury know she’s human, despite her supernatural abilities and origin? I thought her adapting so easily felt a little generic and lazy for the script, even if she is a human down to the DNA.

This is a “hero’s journey” origins story of the character leading the MCU heroes beyond Avengers: Endgame. That alone relieves a lot of the tension of the film, as we’re all but guaranteed she will come out alive and on top, but this is a minor complaint I have about a lot of the MCU films, and something that is an inherit problem in a shared universe format. However, as stated, this is not the cynical cash-grab many fragile egoed men would have you believe online. I am proud the MCU now has a leading female hero, and one who doesn’t predominantly define herself with sexualizaiton, or has a story centered around a relationship. She feels like she could have been male or female (for the most part), which is exactly how Elen Ripley was originally written for the Alien franchise. Her forgotten past certainly integrates struggles of a woman in a predominantly man’s world (the US Air Force) but this was the only aspect of her story what was fundamentally feminine. Either way, Vers realizes she’s a human, and used to be named Carol Danvers, and suffered an accident that gave her energy powers and amnesia.

What I wanted more clarification on are who the Kree truly are, and not just their job, but fundamentally what makes someone a Kree. Carol is obviously a human, but her squad clearly contains other humans and non humans. Were the Kree just a joint force where any race could join? If so, what would keep Carol from learning about Earth knowing she and other Kree were humans? What makes all Kree bleed blue if they’re from different races? Why was Earth treated as such a mystery, especially when the dominant race is identical to herself and certain squad mates? Its these sorts of details, and details mentioned before, that kept me from being immersed fully in this movie, and wish they were better hammered out in the script. I was glad the Skrull, or at least primary Skrulls seen in the movie, were people wearing make up and masks, and not yet another CGI creation. Ben Mendelsohn plays the Skrull leader Talos, and its yet another charming yet genuine role by one of my favorite Auzzie actors. Talos’ personal story is one of the better aspects of the film, and I wish he and his race got more attention than they did.

Ironically, the more powerful Carol gets, and the more of her powers she discovers, the less interesting the action got. I liked seeing her struggle with her emotions and learn to use her unique powers wisely at the beginning of the film. Once she unlocked her full potential later on, I may have liked the triumphant moment, but seeing a CGI girl shooting energy blasts and flying through space was less tense than the stunt and martial arts-centered fights earlier in the movie. The technology to de-age Samuel L. Jackson is excellent, as its easy to forget the man is in his 70′s. Phil Coulson’s effects don’t look quite as good unfortunately, but he has far less screen time. I loved Carol’s smaller "fish out of water" moments, and her somewhat sarcastic and upbeat personality, even if she did cross the line into being straight up rude in one or two scenes (her personality needs some consistency). Her nod to the late great Stan Lee also marked a small, but satisfying final cameo for the Marvel founder. I loved seeing Carol interrogate people making sure they weren’t a Skrull and her going too far on occasion I found charming and funny. 

I can’t say how relieved I was to discover this entry in the Marvel Cinematic Universe wasn’t the SJW propaganda the internet was making it out to be. Captain Marvel may not be a top tier Marvel movie, but it serves as a satisfying sci-fi/superhero origins story, leaving a lot of potential for the future. While Carol Danvers’ personality did teeter precariously between clever and overly cocky some of the time, I chalk it up to her finding who she is as a person both personally, and figuratively as the writers of the film. I have no doubt her sequels movies and presence in future cross-overs will round out her abilities, limitations, and personality exactly as we’ve seen with the legacy characters. I’m excited to see what lies for her onward, even if the film wasn’t as groundbreaking as they wanted it to be, and if the script was missing some important details as well. I’m also hoping deeply that Carol Danvers isn’t a human deus-ex-machina for defeating Thanos in Avengers: Endgame, and somehow the plan to reverse the “snap” and putting down the purple giant remains complex, nuanced, and meaningful.

6/10

[krinsbez]

Book Recommendations: Da Big List, Fiction Edition

Well, I said I’d do more book recs, so here we go...

(note that some of the series recs are out of date, with additional installments written since I previously updated the list) 

-Devil's Cape by Rob Rogers is the single best work of superhero prose I have ever read. -The Six-Gun Tarot by R. S. Belcher, in which the unusual inhabitants of a Wild West town (a sheriff who can't die, a deputy who's the son of Coyote, a housewife who used to be an assassin, and more) fight an Eldritch Abomination. Has two sequels, The Shotgun Arcana and The Queen of Swords -"Craft Sequence" series (six books and counting, starting with either Three Parts Dead or Last First Snow, depending on whether you want to read 'em in publication or chronological order, respectively), by Max Gladstone. Set in a modern-esque fantasy world that runs on corporate necromancy and "applied theocracy", the first (in publication order) involves a junior associate in a necromancy firm having to investigate the murder of the god who powers a steampunk city. -The Goblin Emperor by Katherine Addison, in which the half-goblin Unfavorite son of the Elven Emperor is unexpectedly raised to the throne after his father and half-brothers die in a zeppelin crash. -Daughter of the Sword by Steve Bein, in which a Tokyo policewoman catches a case that involves a Yakuza power struggle and a trio of magic swords, with extensive flashbacks (as in, they ultimately take up about half of the book) to the history of said swords. Has a sequel, Year of the Demon, in which the heroine goes up against a cult revolving around a mask tied to the swords. Also, more flashbacks. Now has a third sequel, Disciple of the Wind; there are also a couple of eNovellas, which I haven't read. -Eifelheim by Michael Flynn, in which a Renaissance-era village in Germany interact with a group of aliens whose ship crashed nearby. -Ancillary Justice by Ann Leckie, in which the last remnant of a space warship's AI seeks revenge on the ones who blew up the rest of her and...find out why they did it. Has two sequels, Ancillary Sword and Ancillary Mercy. -The Chinatown Death Cloud Peril by Paul Malmont, in which the creators of Doc Savage and The Shadow team-up with each other (and L. Ron Hubbard and someone else who is a minor spoiler) on an actual pulp adventure involving Nazi spies, a Chinese warlord, and something which is actually a BIG spoiler. Has a sequel, The Astounding, the Amazing, and the Unknown, in which Isaac Asimov, Robert Heinlein, and L. Sprague De Camp investigate Tesla's final invention. -Bridge of Birds by Barry Hughart, in which Master Li, a sage "with a slight flaw in his character", is hired by an immensely strong peasant named Number Ten Ox to investigate a mysterious plague afflicting his village in a "China that never was". Has two sequels, The Story of the Stone and Eight Skilled Gentlemen that are greatly inferior but still enjoyable. -The Kitty Norville books by Carrie Vaughn (15 books starting with Kitty and the Midnight Hour; the count includes a short-story collection and a side-novel starring a secondary character), about the host of a midnight radio show in Denver, who is also a newly turned werewolf. One night, instead of playing random music, she starts talking about the supernatural. Then vampires and other werewolves start calling in... -The Inspector Chen novels by Liz Williams (6 books starting with Snake Agent), about a police detective in a near future Singapore who investigates mysteries that require him to liaise with the Chinese versions of Hell and Heaven. -"Barsoom" series by Edgar Rice Burroughs (11 books, starting with A Princess of Mars): The ur-text of the Planetary Romance sub-genre, one of the definitional texts of soft SF. Rollicking adventures with epic characters in a marvelously imagined world. Long story short; a Civil War vet on the verge of death is astrally projected to not-yet-dead Mars, befriends a group of warlike natives, falls in love with the Princess of another, and turns the whole planet upside down in the name of love. Then he has kids... -"Lensman" series by E. E. "Doc" Smith (6 books; starting with either Triplanetary or Galactic Patrol, depending on your preferences): The granddaddy of all Space Operas, a triumphant example of power creep. The forces of Order and Chaos war for the fate of the universe, using the ultimate police force and an army of space pirates as proxies. -Last and First Men by Olaf Stapledon: An exploration of the future evolution of mankind. Starting in the '30s with the then-current state of the "First Men" (that is to say, Homo sapiens sapiens) until the extinction of the "Last Men" millions of years hence. Redefines epic scope. -Star-Maker by Olaf Stapledon: A companion of sorts to Last and First Men, except with with the scope turned up to eleven, covering billions of years and the entire universe. -Slan by A. E. Van Vogt: Jommy Cross is a Slan, an evolved human possessed of superior physical and mental abilities. Years ago, the Slans took over the world, but their regime was overthrown and now the Slans are hunted. When Jommy's parents are killed, he must learn to survive in a world that hates and fears him...or does it? Jampacked with twists and turns, not to mention being the archetypical "mutant hunt" novel. -Voyage of the Space Beagle by A. E. Van Vogt: The best and brightest of man's scientific minds have been sent into space to explore strange new worlds, and then figure out how to keep the life-forms they encounter from killing them. A rip-roaring tale of of space exploration, alien monsters, and an omnicompetent protagonist. Not only was it a major influence on Star Trek, one episode is the basis for Alien. -"Demon Princes" series by Jack Vance (5 books starting with The Star King): Years ago, the five most dangerous criminals in the known universe joined together to murder or enslave the inhabitants of a small colony. Now the sole survivor is hunting them down one-by-one across the galaxy... The narrative is a great combination of action and mystery, and the setting is full of all manner of interesting worlds and civilizations. -"Planet of Adventure" series by Jack Vance (4 books, starting with City of the Chasch): An Earthman crash-lands on a planet inhabited by four alien species, and the humans they've enslaved, travels the world to find a way home. A marvelous exploration of the concept of Blue-And-Orange Morality. -"Sector General" series by James White (12 books, starting with Hospital Station): Life aboard a massive, multi-species hospital space station in a deeply idealistic 'verse with one of the most diverse bunch of aliens ever devised. The first six books are mostly collections of short stories featuring medical mysteries solved by Dr. Conway (the primary exception is the second book, which is mostly a novella set against the backdrop of an interstellar war and brilliantly inverts the "Hard Man Making Hard Decisions" trope), as he goes from being a trainee to one of the hospital's elite, while the latter six are novels featuring an assortment of characters. -"Cobra" series by Timothy Zahn (9 books and counting, starting with Cobra): A multi-generational tale of super-soldiers in war and peace, with a healthy helping of interstellar diplomacy. A really interesting take on MilSF, where out-of-the-box thinking takes center stage. -"Quadrail" series by Timothy Zahn (5 books, starting with Night Train To Rigel): Frank Compton, former agent of the human government, finds himself working for the mysterious aliens who run the local 'verse's sole form of interstellar travel; a train in space called the Quadrail. Intrigue, action, and plot twists abound, including one of the best Heel Face Turns I have ever encountered. -"Stainless Steel Rat" series by Harry Harrison (11 books, starting with The Stainless Steel Rat, and one short story, which can be found in the collection Stainless Steel Visions). In a far future where mankind has spread across the stars, crime has been eliminated. Well, that's what the authorities would like you to believe; in truth there are still a small handful of individuals maladjusted enough to commit crimes and smart enough to get away with them. James Bolivar "Slippery Jim" Digriz, the Stainless Steel Rat, may be the smartest of them all, a white collar thief and con artist who's almost pathological disregard for law and authority is balanced by a surprisingly strong moral code. Which is why when he is finally caught, the authorities put him to work catching criminals who lack those morals. This is classic SF comedy, with a surprising amount of pathos at points. -"The Parasol Protectorate" series by Gail Carriger (five books, starting with Soulless). A humorous and exciting tale of love, intrigue, mad scientists, and fashion in an alternate Victorian era where the British Empire's power derives from steampunk technology, werewolf soldiers, and vampire politicians. Has a sequel series, "The Custard Protocol" (3 books and counting, starting with Prudence) revolving around the daughter of the original protagonist. Has a YA prequel spinoff, "Finishing School" (4 books, starting with Ettiquette and Espionage) revolving around a teenager who is recruited by a boarding school that trains spies. There are, in addition, a manga adaptation of the first couple books. -Ports of Call by Jack Vance. Myron Tany has always dreamed of traveling the Gaean Reach. When his eccentric aunt acquires a spaceship, it seems his dream has come true...until she ends up marooning him on random planet. Fortunately, Myron is able to obtain a position as supercargo aboard the merchant ship Glicca. The story does not really have a plot per se, consisting primarily of a series of marvelous picaresque vignettes as Myron and his crew-mates travel to different worlds delivering cargo, trying to acquire additional cargo, and periodically running afoul of bizarre local customs. The book just kinda stops at one point, and resumes in a second book, entitled Lurulu. I'm not really describing this well, but they're both very fun, beautifully written books. -The Green and the Gray by Timothy Zahn. A night on the town for a young New York couple takes a turn for the weird when they are forced, at gunpoint, to take custody of a 12-year old girl. They soon find themselves enmeshed in a secret Cold War between two alien races that have secretly been living in the city for generations...a Cold War that is threatening to turn hot. -The Rook by Daniel O'Malley. A young woman awakens surrounded by corpses with no memory of who she is. In her pocket is a letter from her pre-amnesia self, one Myfanwy Thomas. It seems that Myfanwy was a senior bureaucrat for the covert organization in charge of controlling magic and other such weirdness in Britain, and that her amnesiac state is something that was done to her. Myfanwy must therefore investigate the mystery of precisely who that is, while simultaneously do a job about which she knows nothing, without letting anyone realize what's happened to her. Ha a sequel, Stiletto, though I cannot explain the plot without spoiling the previous book. -Throne of the Crescent Moon by Saladin Ahmed. A tale in which an elderly demon-hunting cleric and his paladin assistant team-up with a shape-shifting barbarian girl and husband and wife alchemists to prevent an undead villain unleash an ancient evil, while trying not get involved between the conflict between the tyrannical ruler of their city and a gentleman thief-turned-revolutionary. Did I mention that the cleric's spells invoke the name of Allah, the paladin is a dervish, the barbarian is a Bedouin, and the whole setting draws it's cues not from Tolkien but the Arabian Nights? -"White Trash Zombie" by Diana Rowland (6 books and counting, starting with My Life As a White Trash Zombie). Angel Crawford is an unemployed high school dropout in rural Louisiana with a deadbeat dad, an asshole boyfriend, a drug habit, and no future. After one particularly wild night of drinking and drugging, she gets into a devastating car accident...and wakes up in the hospital without a scratch on her to find that an unknown benefactor has arranged for her to have a job at the Coroner's Office. Which is good because she now has a hankering for brains... -Under the Moons of Mars: New Adventures on Barsoom edited by John Joseph Adams. Exactly what is says on the tin, a collection of original stories set on Barsoom by an assortment of writers. As with any anthology, quality is a bit uneven; some of the stories are excellent Original Flavor pastiches, some are deconstructions or parodies, one or two are just bad. But all in all a great collection. -Worlds of Edgar Rice Burroughs edited by Mike Resnick and Robert T. Garcia. Same basic idea, but for the entire Burroughs oevure, including some of his non-SFnal work. -"Winter of the World" series by Michael Scott Rohan (two trilogies, the first starting with The Anvil of Ice, the second place taking place before the first and in another part of the world, and which I haven't been able to get my hands on ), an epic fantasy taking place against the backdrop of an Ice Age, in which a young man rises from slavery to become the most powerful smith-cum-magician the world has ever known, and together with some companions fights to defeat the sinister primal forces that wish to cover the world in glaciers forever. Much less generic than it sounds, even without going into the appendixes which reveal the real(ish) science behind quite a bit of the magic. -"Spiral Arm" series by Michael Flynn (4 books, starting with The January Dancer). Moderately Irish-flavored space opera, the first book tells the tale of of how a random space captain found a pre-human artifact, of the various hands said artifact passed into, and the conflicts that sprung up in it's wake. The second book turns the first's framing sequence into an epic of it's own, as a young bard hunts down the truth of her parentage. The series notably involves massive retcons with each volume, revealing that what we thought was going on was actually something else, but does so in a way that's compelling rather than irritating. -Dr. Jay Hosler is an entomologist who has written four edutational graphic novels for children (Clan Apis, The Sandwalk Adventures, Optical Allusions, and Last of the Sandwalkers). I've read three and they are amazing. In Clan Apis, a young honeybee desperately searches for her place in the hive, and ultimately finds an unorthodox solution. In The Sandwalk Adventures, an elderly Charles Darwin tries to convince a follicle mite living in his eyebrow that he's not God, by teaching him about evolution. In Last of the Sandwalkers (no relation)...honestly, the story contains so much epic awesomeness, I just want to list it, but it's all spoilers; suffice to say that the title character is A: a beetle, B: could give Sam Carter and Agatha Heterodyne a run for their money in the mad science department, and C: leads an expedition to explore the unknown and along the way discovers truths about her family and the nature of her people's civilization that some people really don't want her to (also you learn stuff about beetles). -Nightwise by R. S. Belcher. Years ago, Laytham Ballard was the Golden Boy of the occult underworld sub-culture. That was a LONG time ago, and no one would ever mistake Laytham for golden. But he's not so much of a bastard that he'll refuse the last request of one of his few remaining friends. What was supposed to be a simple revenge killing, however, turns out to be a lot more complicated and a lot more dangerous than Laytham ever imagined. Has a sequel, The Night Dahlia, which I have yet to read. -Brotherhood of the Wheel by R. S. Belcher. Jimmy Aussapile is an independent trucker, hauling cargo cross-country to support his pregnant wife and teenage daughter; he is also a member of a secret order descended from the Knights Templar that protects the highways of America from monsters both human and not. An encounter with a hitchhiking ghost finds him heading off on a quest, in which he joins forces with the heir apparent of monster-fighting outlaw biker gang who's military service unleashed some serious inner demons, and a State Trooper who's determination to solve a series of child abductions leads her to go rogue. Together, they must battle an ancient evil involving serial killers, human sacrifice, and Black-Eyed Kids. Note that it's loosely tied to Nightwise, in which Jimmy shows up in one scene as a minor side character; meanwhile, an off-hand reference to Laytham is made at one point in Brotherhood, and a minor plot thread in the later novel relates to a major plot thread in the earlier. They aren't even the same genre, with Nightwise being urban fantasy noir instead of horror. All in all, one doesn't have to have read one to enjoy the other,

[cerillosvillage]

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Sixteen: Defeated

I don't wanna be all alone and defeated/ Who can I be besides me? 'Cause I hate it

Warning: Slight adult situation but nothing explicit

Ib had never stepped foot in the mines before. First and foremost because he simply had no reason to - he was not a miner, he was not interested in the mines' wealth. But beyond that, the mines gave him the creeps. It was a similar feeling to what Badb's tent had given him, though perhaps not as intense. A strange foreboding, a prickling under his skin that made the hair on his arms stand on end. He was far from superstitious, but the mines still made him think of the Gods, and he didn't particularly like that.

He could've gone on living his life not entering the mines, but there was one thing whose pull was strong enough to make him want to go in them, and she had beckoned him. Ajra.

Ib wasn't sure what he had expected after his fight with Nelan. Badb had told him that Ajra would not love him after the fight, and he supposed on some level he had expected her to turn on him, to hate him. So he had been confused when she had praised him and invited her to his quarters. As far as he knew, no one ever went to her quarters. Not even her husband.

The trip down was long and winding, and made use of a lift and a rail cart. The tunnels branched off in multiple directions, twisting into the cliffside, but somehow Ib did not get lost. There was something pulling at him, something like a murmur that directed him down, and down, and down.

He marveled at the sheer depth of the tunnels. And Ajra lived at the bottom of them all. How early did she have to awaken each morning to leave the tunnels before dawn? How did she manage to tell the time? Perhaps it was like the pull he felt - something compelled her as it did him.

Finally, after a long, sloping passage, the floor leveled out, and Ib got the feeling that he could go no further down. Electric lanterns were strung along the passageways - a strange touch, since the rest of the village seemed to eschew technology entirely - and so he followed them as the tunnel stretched ahead. It was only a short walk before the passageway opened up into a chamber.

The ceiling was rather low, at a glance probably only tall enough for Ajra to stand without her headdress. The chamber was smaller than Ib had anticipated, seeing as it was the one that housed the former leader of a cult. He had expected something grander, something more like the kings he had worked for, but the room was surprisingly plain.

There was nothing special about the walls, no interesting formations or crystal growths. More of the small string lanterns were hung around the edges of the room, giving it a soft glow. There was a natural slab of rock covered with what looked like a straw-filled mattress and a number of animal pelts. A few chests were pushed up against a wall, and a mannequin stood near them, displaying Ajra's armor. Everything was spartan, utilitarian.

But there was one feature that felt appropriate for Ajra's former status. Carved into one wall was a great chair. It was rough hewn and simple, but Ib had seen enough thrones to recognize it for what it was.

And, of course, there was Ajra, standing in front of an open chest, half turned away from him. She glanced towards him, dropped something into the chest, and faced him.

"Good, you're here," she said. Her voice was gruff as always, but there was something different about it. It lacked some of its usual edge. It took Ib a moment to fully realize what was missing, but he eventually figured it out -- it was that, for the first time, she didn't sound angry at the sight of him.

The shock of it made the words catch in his throat. He could do nothing but silently watch on.

If she had anything else to say, for her part, she didn't say it. She stepped away from the wall and, as he watched, she pulled her shirt over her head. There was nothing inherently erotic about her movements; if anything, she moved mechanically. And yet the sight sent an excited, painful stab through Ib's heart. She had never undressed for him before. He felt like he was seeing something he wasn't supposed to, like he had when he met the witch.

With more stilted movements, she removed her shoes and trousers, followed by the loincloth that served as her undergarments. She walked to the great stone chair, and again she lacked any sort of teasing or flirtatious movements. There was no glancing over of her shoulder, no sway to her hips.

She sat down, and she seemed to sag in the throne. She didn't look regal. She looked tired.

Ib stood at the entrance to the chamber, staring at her, unable to speak or move. She grunted and waved a large hand, beckoning him forward.

He moved, though he felt detached from his body. He crossed the chamber, coming to stand before her.

He couldn't stand looking down at her. Not when she always towered over him. Never in his life had he willingly lowered his head to a king, but now he sank to his knees.

Her legs were parted before him, her posed decidedly masculine. Not that he had ever cared one bit whether she acted like a woman or not. She was all woman to him - the perfect woman - the woman he had always wanted. He took hold of her knees and leaned forward, resting his cheek against her inner thigh, closing his eyes, feeling the warmth of her skin and breathing in her scent.

There was a tug on one of his horns, and his head was pulled back away from her. He opened his eyes to find her scowling.

"Don't grovel," she growled. "A warrior should never grovel."

"What…" he began, though he was at a loss for words. He wanted nothing more than to grovel at her feet. To worship her. To love her.

But he had been told she would never love him back. Why, then? Why invite him here?

"What do you want from me?" He finally managed to ask. "If not my fealty? What is it you want?"

She breathed in deeply, then let it out slowly. She released his horn and slumped back against the stone chair. It took her a moment to find the words.

"I want to stop thinking about my own death, Ib. I want the thirty minutes or so peace that comes with sex."

This was the first time she had called him by his name without it sounding like she was spitting something foul out of her mouth. It felt wrong, but not nearly as wrong as what she was saying. He understood the implication fully. No person as great and strong as she should ever contemplate killing themselves.

He didn't know how to handle it, though. He had no experience with helping the depressed.

"Why me?" He asked. "Why not your husband? Or someone else in the village."

"The villagers all hate me," she said. There was no whining to her voice. She was merely stating fact. "And though I love my husband, his machinations to try to redeem me into something I am not just make me long for death even more. But you--"

A strong hand caught his chin, turned his face upwards.

"You live your life guilt-free. I do not think about death when I fuck you."

Ib tasted bile. He pulled away from her grasp, scrambling to his feet. Badb's price repeated in his head over and over -- and yet, this… this felt far too intimate. He did not know much about love, but forgetting one's problems with another person -- that sounded suspiciously like love. Like Ajra was offering him a chance to be her lover. A chance for him to be the one to drive the demons away from her.

"I c…" he took a step back, "I can't. I'm sorry, I can't do this right now." He couldn't shoulder her burden like this. He wasn't the right person for it. He couldn't take the responsibility of saving her.

He turned and walked away as quickly as he could without breaking into a jog.

She said nothing as he retreated back up into the tunnels.

He did not once look back.

[imadeitfun-blog]

because im bored.

although the MCU rarely portrays it properly (first three movies didn’t really bother at all with showing it, ultimate movies showed it but only to be shadowed constantly by gwen and the latest iteration simply focuses on his relationships more than his potential*), peter parker’s intelligence level is that of a genius. both mentioned and accepted by other geniuses such as hank pym, tony stark or reed richards. in fact, he’s said to be on pair with tony stark (a super genius). yet again, that is probably a comparison to highlight his true potential. unlike tony stark or reed richards, peter never had access to the necessary money to exploit his true IQ (set to be 250 by some versions of the comics, 145 by others, which to trust, i don’t know), with his parents dying at an early age and his guardians not being particularly wealthy he had access to the necessary education but not the needed imputs. yet he cared to read and find ways to stimulate his brains.

proofs of his high intelligence are set in the way he has developed his tools (from trackers, to webshooters, passing by small bots) to the way he’s hacked into, for instance, stark computers (or creations) in almost every universe that peter parker is peter parker. including the results of his exams which actually mirrored the same scores that reed richards got at the same age. doesn’t mean he’s a supergenius, the limited access of knowledge he had and the limited access to the necessary tools kept him or prevented him from fully developing his potential, unlike others. 

he’s young and still learning, of course, but his interest focuses mostly on technology and biochemistry, rather than in all areas like the rest of marvel geniuses do.

*the canons of the different cinematic iterations have proven that he’s at least of gifted intelligence, i.e. higher than regular people:

first of all, peter parker on tobey’s performance was portrayed as a bookworm, one of the smartest of the high school and who made most of harry osborn’s school work. as he moved onto college, he finished soon but didn’t really get to live up to it or develop at all since he focused more on his spiderman job. since this version of spiderman had biologically created webbings there was no need for showing any form of technology to be made by him which deeply affected proving one of peter parker’s most relatable elements (to me): his intelligence.

the ultimate movies, despite having a wittier and overall better constructed peter parker failed at portraying the same element. he was smart and could fastly study his father’s biology experiments, proving in this case that, yes, he was smart. that yes, he was actually brilliant and not a regularly learned student like tobey’s (i’m using the actor but i should mention the writers) made him look like.  yet again, gwen was almost all the time on pair or above his intellect in fact having peter coming to help for help on some studies. this is not how it should be. or at least not needing it. peter’s intelligence is above gwen’s except gwen’s social and wealth status is higher and, in a sense, this would reflect her being better in school (She was pointed as the top of the class, hence her internship among other things). However I can’t complain about this, it was done to make gwen more than simply the girlfriend and to highlight her individual worth (not to mention it was also going in the direction of SpiderGwen or SpiderWoman). nevertheless, it failed at proving peter’s true potential. and showed him as someone smart and genius but somewhat not the best of the best. Then again he didn’t have anyone else to be compared with so, in a sense, it wasn’t that wrong. simply Gwen was smarter while Dr. Connors was set to be ... less smart (or more imprudent).

now, to the latest movies, we have the best show of this but still going under someone else’s or recurring to someone else’s knowledge far too many times. he attends a school for people that, in itself, are smart (it’s a sciences high school), when he gets the suit from tony and later on tries to take the tracker off he asks ned to hack it and deactivate the baby protocol. truth be told, he did it because it was the other who was holding the computer at the time, and i bet he would have done it himself if he could, but they made it look like he wouldn’t have been able to had he not asked. once again in order to give his connections a better position. in general, peter who is meant to be one of the most stand outs guys (even if back in the day he was top 11 but still he was the eleventh lol) is put at the same level than characters who are either created for the movie or shouldn’t be that smart at all (flash). in most cases, to me at least, it looks like these character has a higher wealth level than aunt may and thus peter, so while it may make sense, it still feels like it doesn’t fully portray peter’s full intelligence spectrum (or his IQ level for that matter). 

then again, most people tend to not acknowledge spiderman’s smarts eitherway because he doesn’t do big things with it, but still, it is important to notice that it should be better portrayed (and keep in mind that he is indeed smart, since that is one of the things i connected with him about when i was a child and growing up)

[tomemyxmen2017-blog]

The Best (and Worst) Free Comics of FCBD 2018

Of the fifty-two comics released for Free Comic Book Day 2018, there were an unsurprisingly high number of excellent comics in this year’s class. Here are my picks for the best of the best (with a few dishonorable mentions too) from the many choices available this year.

THE BEST

10. BERLIN by Jason Lutes (w, a, c). (Drawn & Quarterly).

Set in 1928 Germany, a journalist and an art student meet on a train to Berlin; when they arrive, the young student is surprised by what she sees, and the journalist must navigate a changing climate for the press. Narrated in part by the main characters’ writings (his reporting and her diary), this street-level view of Berlin prior to the rise of fascism is masterful and cinematic. Even in this preview, the sense of menace and dread to the events that are to come in the story permeates every page. Absolutely genius. Part of a series written over the past twenty years, this FCBD release promotes the hardcover omnibus of the series due for release in fall 2018.

9. STRANGERS IN PARADISE by Terry Moore (w, a). (Abstract Studios).

The issue opens with an exciting pickpocket scene in which Scott, a generic business type, has his phone and SIM card stolen. He later contacts his wife, Laura, to tell her that he’ll be late coming home and why, prompting Laura to stoically retrieve her run bag and leave home for good. The phone thief heads to Laura’s house to discover she’s already gone and runs into Scott; the thief reveals that “Laura” is actually Stephanie Kelly, a Parker girl caught up in treason and espionage. This is a dynamic, fully realized introduction to what seems like a fun and exciting story loaded with intelligent, powerful women kicking all kinds of ass.

8. ULTRA STREET FIGHTER II #1 by Ken Siu-Chong (w), Hanzo Steinbach (a), Marshall Dillon (l). (Udon).

Trying to shake off his dark side, Ken meets with Ryu to fight through his worst urges and achieve some balance in his life. The pair travel to Japan for some high-level meditation (and fighting, of course), but that only gets Ken so far. Later in San Francisco, Ken is surprised by an attack from Rufus, and during the battle, he learns to control his evil within. Although this comic attempts to apply drama to a fighting video game, the result is fun, colorful, ridiculous, and delightfully entertaining. What more could you want out of a Street Fighter comic?

7. SHADOWMAN by Andy Diggle (w), Stephen Segovia (w), Karl Bollers (e). (Valiant).

Alyssa and her guide Isiah explore the swamps of Louisiana at night, searching for the cause of cursed water that’s making locals sick. She encounters a monster, the Grinder of Bones, and tries to use magic to protect herself to no avail. She runs, and summons Papa Legba for guidance: in return, her friend Jack, now the Shadowman, appears from a portal to help her in her fight. With gorgeous artwork, beautiful coloring, and a plot like nothing else on the stands right now, this issue draws readers into this world so effortlessly that it’s hard to imagine someone reading this issue without being fully engrossed and wanting to pick up the whole series. Terrifically well-done.

6. THE GHOST IN THE SHELL by Max Gladstone (w), David Lopez (a), Nayoung Kim (color), Jodi Wynne (l), Alejandro Arbona (e), Ben Applegate (e). (Kodansha).

Major Kusanagi (aka Motoko) and Aramaki are intercepted by an American Ghost Force Squad while on a business trip to Shangai. After her arrest, Motoko dramatically escapes through the streets of Shangai and meets her old wartime enemy, Li; the pair must work together to save Aramaki and others. This issue, part of an upcoming anthology, is perhaps the most complete, cover-to-cover, issue released on FCBD. At a whopping forty-five pages, readers are treated to an entire story that is exceptional all on its own. This is a fabulous issue that will convert even the most stoic of non-believers into fans of this character and this series.

5. RELAY by Zac Thompson (w), Andy Clarke (a), Eric Bromberg (st), Donny Cates (st), Dan Brown (color), Charles Pritchett (l), Mike Marts (e). (Aftershock).

In this sci-fi story, a space traveler lands on a planet with an undeveloped population and offers them “the Relay,” a monolith that creates uniformity in technology and ideas. Is it intergalactic socialism, or will it be intergalactic fascism? The Relay seemingly destroys community identity and cultural heritage with a new sort of religion: ultimate fath in the monolith itself. This is an expertly paced and well-rendered metaphor that gives sci-fi fans something deeper to ponder.

4. MIGHTY MORPHIN POWER RANGERS by Kyle Higgins (w), Ryan Parrott (w), Digo Galindo (a), Marcelo Costa (color), Ed Dukeshire (l), Dafna Pleban (e). (Boom!).

This one takes me back! Chosing to advertise its best-selling series, Boom! strategically used its FCBD option to bridge the gap between fans of the old TV show(s) and the current comics mythology, hoping to draw in readers who may have been overwhelmed by the thousands of different Power Ranger characters and their convoluted origin stories and missions. This issue is a straight-forward explanation of how the first episode of the original TV series connects to the comic storyline today, with some surprisingly awesome artwork and a shockingly murderous ending. The issue concedes its childish origins, but by the end, these aren’t your kids’ Power Rangers anymore!

3. AVENGERS by Jason Aaron (w), Sarah Pichelli (p, i), Elisabetta D’Amico (i), Justin Ponsor (color), Cory Petit (l), Tom Brevoort (e). (Marvel).

This issue, frankly, defied my expectations. As the official free preview to Marvel’s “Fresh Start,” there was a lot riding on this issue, the release of which coinciding with yet another reboot of the Avengers in the same week and a blockbuster weekend for the House of Ideas at the cinema a week prior. And it did not disappoint. In a direct follow-up to last year’s Marvel Legacy #1, Odin meets with Black Panther in the ruins of Asgard. Odin explains that he has fallen to Loki and his manipulation of a Celestial and requests that T’Challa kill Loki; he agrees. The story ends in another scene with Captain America and Thor reaching out to Tony Stark for a meeting between the three of them as a new Avengers era begins. Rather than using its FCBD offering to pump in half-assed action, Aaron instead tries to win new readers over with a well-told and interesting story setup. It is refreshing to see Marvel return to storytelling in its flagship series rather than resort to the redundant tropes of its recent past. Very well done.

2. JAMES BOND 007: VARGR by Warren Ellis (w), Jason Masters (a), Guy Major (color), Simon Bowland (l), Joseph Rybant (e). (Dynamite).

On a mission in Finland, 007 hunts down 008’s killer and exacts gruesome revenge. Later at MI6 Headquarters, M is assigned to take over 008’s case load, setting up a story that is simultaneously exhilirating for new readers and faithful in spirit to fans of the classic Bond. With darkly exquisite artwork throughout (particularly the Helsinki scene) and a character whose charm radiates off the page, it’s hard to imagine any comic fan not falling madly in love with this series.  Originally published in 2016, this issue and the rest of the story is already available in trade.

1.BARRIER by Brian K. Vaughn (w), Marcos Martin (a, c), Muntsa Vincente. (Image).

No comic in this bunch left my jaw on the floor and mouth agape quite like this one. In this exquisite story, Liddy discovers signs of a Mexican cartel using her land, which happens to be on the Texas-Mexican border, as a throughway for drug trades and illegal immigration. In a parallel story, Oscar migrates from his home in Honduras to reach the U.S., crossing onto Liddy’s land in the middle of the night. She finds him and holds him at gunpoint suddenly the pair are interrupted. It’s a contemporary story involving gruesome violence, cartels, guns, and sci-fi. Half the issue is in Spanish (a language deficit won’t detract from your enjoyment of the issue), and the entire book – at an impressive fifty-three pages – is elegantly printed in landscape format. The artwork is phenomenal. The writing is incomparable. This is simply a perfect comic book from cover to cover. Frankly, I’m shocked it was available for FCBD as it’s well-worth a cover price. I recommend this enthusiastically, and I can’t wait to pick up the whole series this month. An exceptional beauty of a comic.

THE WORST

3. SHADOW ROADS by Cullen Bunn (w), Brian Hurtt (w), A.C. Zamudio (a), Carlos Zamudio (color), Crank! (l), Charlie Chu (e). (Oni Press).

In this deeply convoluted introduction presumptively set in the late nineteenth century, we meet Henry Grey, a Native American and a Cambridge man who visits the British Museum of Natural History’s new Native American exhibit with remorse and perhaps disgust. He meets an elder at the Museum who gives him a magical ceremonial dagger carved from bone that ultimately lights up. En route home, his train passes through a Crossroads where Abigail Redmayne and Kalfu intercept him and bring him to the New Mexico Territory. What causes this issue to fail – aside from the onslaught of new characters to learn and an unexplained mythology to understand – is that by the issue’s end, we are no closer to knowing why any of these events occur. Why does Abigail bring Henry to New Mexico? What is so special about Henry? What’s the point of the glowing dagger? While a free comic book should purposefully leave questions unresolved to entice readers to find their answers in subsequent issues, this romp is sadly too obscure and complicated to elicit any interest.

2. AMAZING SPIDER-MAN by Nick Spencer (w), Ryan Ottley (o), Cliff Rathburn (i), Laura Martin (color), VC’s Joe Caramagna (l), Nick Lowe (e). (Marvel).

Facing off against America’s greatest threat – the Manhattan real estate market – Peter Parker and his buddy Randy look for an apartment when they are interrupted by a fight with Boomerang, Electro, Rhino, and Big Wheel. After a quick costume change, Spider-Man battles them all until Kingpin intervenes. Despite the Mayor’s apparent gratitude for Spider-Man, Peter drops his professionalism instantly and leaves the scene. Later, Randy and Peter settle on a new three-bedroom apartment with a third roommate: Boomerang himself. From the ludicrous dialogue, the boring trope-laden plot, the cartoonish graphic design, and the overall neutering of Peter Parker’s character, this was a deep, deep disappointment for me that goes beyond this single issue; if this was meant to be an advertisement for the new Amazing Spider-Man series, I’m afraid it did more to turn me off than on. In addition, despite picking up all fifty-two free comics on FCBD, this issue is the only one with running ink and cheap printing errors. Oh, Marvel. Why do you do this to me?

1. TANK GIRL by Alan Martin (w), Brett Parson (a), Warwick Johnson-Cadwell (a), Jonathan Edwards (a), Brett Parson (l), Martin Eden (e). (Titan).

This was perhaps my fault for setting my expectations too high. Having never read a Tank Girl comic and only vaguely understanding her origins from nineties samples and the Lori Petty film, I was expecting a post-apocalyptic badass who breaks the fourth-wall and uses ingenuity, humor, grit, and charm to fight the Man. Instead, I got an insufferable cutsey-wootsey romp about a woman face-punching an adult man after he ruined her birthday big wheel when they were children. In between this awful plot’s progression, vignettes either drawn by a child or rendered to look like it had been drawn by child are too annoying to attempt to read. The only enjoyable bit of this comic was the cover by Jamie Hewlett, who should have done the interiors as well.  

[ramajmedia]

Marvel's The Runaways Characters, Ranked | ScreenRant

Marvel Television has come a long way in the last couple of years with their shows on ABC, Netflix, and Hulu. One of the ongoing dramas is Hulu’s Runaways, bringing the iconic teenage group to life in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. For two seasons now, we have been following the story of Alex Wilder (Rhenzy Feliz), Lyrica Okano (Nico Minoru), Karolina Dean (Virginia Gardner), Gertrude Yorkes (Ariela Barer), Chase Stein (Gregg Sulkin) and Molly Hernandez (Allegra Acosta) in their battle against their complicated villainous parents.

After everything that went down in the second season, fans are eagerly waiting for the third season, which drops on December 13. The new season will also include the long-requested crossover with Freeform’s Marvel drama Cloak and Dagger. While it has already been two years, these characters have come a long way, whether they are on the good or evil side. As season three approaches, it’s time to look at the show’s many characters. From the heroes to the villains, this is our ranking of The Runaways characters.

RELATED: Runaways: 10 Huge Changes Hulu Made To The Characters

10 Xavin

Introduced towards the later part in season two, the mysterious Xavin (Clarissa Thibeaux) came into the series. While we have spent very little time with this character given how late she was introduced in the last season, Xavin still earns a spot on this list. Coming off as a new ally to the Runaways, Xavin will most likely be a key player in the new season going forward.

9 Old Lace

One of the breakout characters for The Runaways, both in the comics and on the TV show, is without doubt Old Lace. The marvelous—pun intended—Deinonychus became someone you fell in love with the moment she popped on the screen. Throughout the two seasons, it has been beautiful seeing her connection with Gertrude as the kids began discovering what their parents were up to. It’s still remarkable how amazing Old Lace looks from a visual standpoint, and her character is a testament to how far technology has come in the TV and film industry.

RELATED: Marvel's Runaways: 10 Stories From The Comics We Want To See Adapted In Season 3

8 Jonah

The show’s first big bad, the Magistrate came in the form of Julian McMahon’s Jonah. After learning that this Gibborim was the father of Karolina, the story went to a whole new level as we learn more about this alien mythology. Whether you loved to hate him or hated to hate him, there is no denying that the Magistrate is a worthy foe for the series. Despite Nico attempting to kill him, the Magistrate is still kicking, now using Victor Stein’s (James Marsters) body, and ready to cause more trouble.

7 Molly Hernandez

One of the best things about The Runaways is the fact that it consists mostly of women who are all-powerful and lovable. The youngest Runaway in the group is Molly Hernandez, who brings optimism to the dynamic. While her young age can sometimes be what holds the character back, Molly’s heroism is something we absolutely love about her. Given how the recent season ended, Molly will have to step up big time and that’s a journey we can’t wait to see.

RELATED: The Myers-Briggs® Types Of Marvel's Runaways' Characters

6 Chase Stein

While he may not have superpowers, Chase Stein has one of the most creative minds in the group. To this day, the way that the show has portrayed Chase is deeply appreciated. A character that could have easily been the “jock” of the group instead got deeper layers and a specific role that he gets to bring to the table. Although, Chase’s big mistake at the end of season two is definitely not one of his best moments, especially as his fate is up in the air for season three.

5 The Pride Family

Because there are so many of them, we are putting all the parents together from the Pride organization. All of these five families are so complicated and intriguing in their own respective way that it’s challenging to pick your favorite.

Whether it’s the nerdy Yorkes, the tough-love Wilders, the complex Minorus, the mess that is the Steins and Deans, Runaways has setup these families in individually unique ways. Season three will definitely be the most interesting year for the parents, as they’re all now in such different places compared to where they first started.

RELATED: Ranking The 10 Best Episodes In Marvel TV History

4 Alex Wilder

If the Runaways have a bad boy in its team, that award definitely goes to Alex Wilder. Also depicted as one of the characters without powers, Alex is still someone you don’t want to underestimate. While he still has a deep care for the group, his methods can sometimes be questioned, regardless of if it leads to good or bad results.

3 Gertrude Yorkes

While Molly may have lost her biological family, she has the best sister in the world in Gertrude “Gert” Yorkes. Aside from her connection with Old Lace, Gert brings the wit to the group with constant quippy lines.

One of the compelling things that the show has done with Gert is showcasing her anxiety problems that are universally relatable. Just like the other members, Gert brings a lot to the group and is someone we can't picture the show without.

2 Karolina Dean

Not only does Runaways give viewers strong women, but it also gives the MCU more LGBT representation, a sterling example of which is Karolina Dean. While she may be one of the group’s most powerful members, Karolina is definitely the one with the most complications. Her father is basically the primary antagonist, more so than the other parents, which complicate things a lot for Karolina.

Aside from her struggle, one of the things to love about Karolina is the love story between her and Nico. Although similarly to Chase, Karolina’s fate is currently unknown which will be one of the big questions going into season three.

1 Nico Minoru

As much as we love all these amazing characters, only one can be rewarded as number one. In this case, it’s Nico Minoru without a doubt. In the two seasons that have come, Nico has graciously developed into a powerful character that gets the job done, hence why she is the leader of the Runaways.

Aside from the Staff of One’s mysterious effect on her, Nico has had a big journey thus far from battling her complicated family life to her romance with Karolina. Given the state of the Runaways following the end of season two, Nico is going to have her hands full in the new season.

NEXT: 10 Most Underrated Superhero TV Shows

source https://screenrant.com/marvels-runaways-characters-ranked/

[oh-come-to-daddy]

The Prices We Pay - Chapter 1 - Part 2/?

 Rating: M

Warnings: Sex, age gap relationship, BDSM (always consensual), heavy alcohol usage, drug references, violence, daddy kink (dd/lg), and cheating. If you find any of these themes to be triggering or offensive to you in any ways, shape, or form, please reconsider reading this.

Authors Note:

Story Master-list : HERE

It’s funny… How the world is like this huge balance beam… if it starts to tilt to one side too much, we get nervous and desperate to put it back into some kind of median… It’s interesting to see what the most desperate of souls will do to return to their balance beam back to ‘normal’.

No one likes to feel themselves slip away from anything they’ve come to be so accustomed and close to. It’s like an addiction… to always want to be ‘normal’.

Whether people believe it or not… we’re all addicts in one sense or another.

I’m an addict, of course I am.

I’m obsessed  with keeping the control I have in the empire I’ve built for myself…

I’m addicted to hearing “yes sir”…

Watching the fear in mens eyes as they hear I’m not satisfied with a job they’ve done for me…

I’m obsessed with keeping everything and everyone in the palm in my hand; knowing that in the blink of an eye I can crumble anything and everything in grasp.

Who am I? … My name is Bruce… Bruce Wayne.

Many people know me for my enterprise,  evidently named Wayne Enterprises; you know, the one in Gotham.. yeah, Gotham, the worlds biggest crime city.

Now before you clock out and try to make me this ‘wealthy asshole’-  lets get my story set straight.

Wayne Enterprises is a empire handed down to me since way back to my ancestors, starting off as a simple merchant house in the 17th century. We’ve then come to expand it into much more; branches reaching out as far as Wayne Chemicals, Wayne Technology, Wayne Biomedical, Wayne Pharmaceuticals, Wayne Foods… and well, you get the point.

Wayne Enterprises has been the ears and eyes of everything Gotham since it began in its smaller and less powerful days. If anything comes in or out, we’re behind it and we know to who it went and for what reason.

Not that Wayne Enterprises isn’t something to  marvel over, but let’s be honest… I don’t sit behind a desk all day with my hands clasped neatly hoping for something interesting to happen… No… I’m Mister Wayne… the sole provider and striker of fear in Gotham.

I’m known in the hushed tones of alleyways as the prime mob boss of Gotham... if you need something; information, goods, guns, a hitman… I’m the one you come to, I own clubs in every street corner, each one dealing something under the tables to keep themselves going.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I never allow harm to come to the innocent people of Gotham. There are one too many people out there trying their best to be able to live comfortably, and a rule of mine is if you deal, steal or kill, you stay away from the innocence that is children, or people going about their ‘regular’ lives.

Now, I bet you’re wondering, does a man like Wayne, at his age settle down and control his empire peacefully, or does he have a different, nice, piece of ass to have sit on his lap every night??

The answer is simple really. No.

I don’t necessarily need a woman on my case daily about how I should set aside meetings or work to take her to the local boutiques. I am a man of specific likes and needs. I find someone who has the same needs or needs and we get along just fine.

Simply put, I rather have a good time and not be locked down for a long time. I am a man of limited patience... and specific needs, not everyone meets them, hence I don’t rely in just anyone.

Which leads me to tonight. Here I am, a young woman sitting on my lap as she nibbles on my jaw and giggles at my comments; she’s tipsy, and she’s been in my club before.

She tried to apply to be one of the dancers before, but I said no due to the fact she is a mother who is trying to make money… No one want to see their mother get to that point, where she has to deal with drunk men for a buck... 

So I made her my personal dancer. I didn’t plan on keeping her around long, but she was such a sweet taste that I decided on keeping her around longer.

She didn’t hesitate for a second when I offered her the job. Her job was to be in my booth nightly; entertain either myself or the men I had visit me, and she was damn good at that. 

Like I said, she was a mom, but she was a damn hot one. This woman was breath taking. The man of her life knocked her up and left her when she was young... so she was a teen mom who had a dead beat as a father to begin with, her daughter now grown and living her adult life off in college... So, safe to say neither her or her daughter had a daddy around.

Good thing for them is, I like to play daddy from time to time.

“Daddy… why don’t you and me go back to yours again… treat me as well as you always do”

I heard her mumble in my ear as her newly placed engagement ring that now adorned the hand she ran up and down my thigh. The ring was something I had given her to avoid the feds sticking their noses into Wayne Enterprises; the company of a ‘single man who was living a life far too solitary for his own good’.

She knew that, that she was just some trophy to wave around to keep people glancing from a distance. She was okay with that, because frankly, like me, she had motives to her ways. 

Her daughter was a young protege in a fancy dance school outside of Gotham, and she was struggling to keep her payments at bay.

“My daughter is all yours if you help me Mister Wayne, she’s a stunner, jaw dropping beauty, I swear. Dancers body… the works.. just help me.”

A mother, offering her child up in exchange for help with her responsibilities… sickening isn’t it? But luckily for her daughters image of her mother, I never have to try so hard to reel them in, they just... come to me.

“Let’s go home princess… You know daddy will always take care of you”

6 months later, I sit here in a club as the fools around me I’ve come to consider my closest friends, They insisted I have a bachelor party, that even though I may not be considering this marriage a legitimate one, I’m still loosing my ‘bachelor card’.

I finally agreed, told myself it’d be just a normal night. We’d go out to one of my clubs, hit on some girls, and most likely get lucky. Drinks on me, considering it was my damn club.

“Wayne! Call some of your girls out mate! These girls aren’t cutting it!”

They were beyond wasted at this point, calling on every girl who passed by and ordering every drink under the menu. It was sure interesting to see the interest in every woman peak as they learned that you were now taken in a sense. Not that their interest wasn’t there before, trust me it was annoying to keep them at bay before, but once they know theres competition, it’s like theres a new aura to you.

I was sitting there with them as I chuckled to the countless stupid commentary that came out from them when I saw two ladies walk in. Both of them young, college girls no doubt. Both grinning ear to ear as they saw each other.

The one who caught my eye had a firmness to her body. She had carried herself with such a high level of poise, each step was one that made her petite body bounce playfully. 

The tight dress that adorned her body hugged her curves beautifully, leaving nothing to the imagination. Her body no doubt being one of a dancer or athlete.

I needed to get her closer, I needed her to be mine.

By the end of the night I had managed to walk over to her and get her name and number. The level of alcohol in her body making her filter non existent. But I loved hearing her ramble on.

Her pink plump lips getting rosier each time she pulled them between her teeth, the action itself making my mind race as I tried hard to not imagine her biting her lip as she moaned and screamed out my name...

“Let me give you a ride home..”

I tired to be a gentleman, give her a ride home and make sure she was okay, but she’s stubborn. She had a bite to her, and it drove me crazy to have to hear her say no. 

Every part of my being wanted to pin her to me, grasp her chin between my hand and have her beg me to teach her a lesson or two about being polite... but she was set on my upcoming marriage.

I let her go that night, I didn’t want to fight her about it. Yes, I was getting married... for the right reasons? Depends on who you ask... But I wasn’t about to explain my life away to a young girl, too naive to understand the chance within her grasp.

However my luck turned when I heard her groan annoyingly in the lobby of my hotel, and by mine I mean both the one I had the guys staying in and the one of many I owned.

Interesting isn’t it? 

How life propels the things you least expect to come back into your life again. I chuckled as I walked over to her and handed my ID to the girl sitting at the receptionist desk, smirking at her as she realized who I was. 

“She’ll be staying with me”

I told her with a faint smirk, winking slightly as she nodded and handed it back to me, amusingly looking Sophia over annoyed as I ushered her away.

“Come on now”

She was shivering as she tried her best to keep her steps steady, but I gave her a quick once over to make sure she was fine, which she was, just soaked from the rain was all.

“Hey... you didn’t have to-”

I cut her off... I had to... there wasn’t anything else to discuss... I had let her slip away once, and quite frankly I wasn’t going to let it happen twice.. I was Bruce Wayne for fuck sakes.

I pinned her against me as I kissed her deeply, my hands grasping the base of her neck as I nibbled and sucked on her bottom lip, smirking as I found her kissing back with just as much if not the same amount of need.

A part of me, a part I did not understand had me pull back and away from her, my mind racing as her words ran through my mind over and over again... sighing as I leaned against the wall and rubbed my face.

“I’m sorry you’re right... I shouldn’t be doing this... I’m getting married.. you said so yourself...”

The words themselves made me shutter as they came out... was I really saying no?

“Well, it’s like you said…technically you’re not married yet…right?”

I smirked as I pulled her out the elevator and to the room, laying her onto the bed as I let my mouth make its way down her neck, kissing and sucking on any inch of skin I could attach my lips to, working on her dress as I slipped it off and went to hang it in the bathroom to dry. 

But, just as my luck would have it lately, I came back to her passed out on the bed, snoring as she slept peacefully. I sighed softly as I covered her and let her sleep.

“Fuck me...”

I left her a note as I made my way out that night, I clearly wasn’t going to get any.. so I might as well go take care of some business...

“Didn’t want to wake you... Order whatever you’d like in the morning - dress is drying in the bathroom... have wardrobe downstairs bring you a change of clothes - on me - Sleep tight xx” 

So much for that... Not like I’ll ever see her again anyway.

[spectrumscribe]

Small Packages

A quick ficlet of Mikey being a badass, and space arc shenanigans with the whole team. 

because people don’t seem to respect that he’s just as much of a ninja as his brothers and probably twice as terrifying 

AO3 version.

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

“We go out for drinks, and this happens,” Donnie muttered irritably, shifting the ropes tied around his wrists. “And they weren’t even alcoholic this time.”

“In Leo and Raph’s and my own defense-” April said, also tugging at her bound wrists. “-none of us knew that we weren’t supposed to climb that particular statue. And it’s you, Casey, and Mikey who wandered off; we were just trying to find you!”

“Wonderful job of that. You found us, and then we all got arrested,” Donnie said dryly.

“I said we were sorry!”

“You did, they didn’t,” Donnie nodded at his older brothers, who were slumped against one another unconscious. Casey and Mikey were still conscious, for all the good that did; the two of them also struggling against the rough rope that they’d all been trussed up with.

Around them, the majority of the village they’d stopped down in was gathered. In hindsight, it may not have been the best idea to pick a planet that still had tribal rule, and warrior code. Donnie didn’t like the look of blades swinging from the aliens’ waists, or the sizable masses of their arms.

Earlier, he’d thought it was all very fascinating. A bipedal species with two sets of arms, claw like nails, and fierce looking tusks jutted from their mouths. A genetic marvel from where he came. They also resembled ‘World of Warcraft’ characters, and never let it be said Donnie wasn’t interested in the gaming community, for all its grievous errors and rampant biasness.

Though now, as the chief of the village called to order her assembled followers, they seemed more intimidating than fascinating.

The chief- as they’d all figured out from the numerous tattoos along her(?) arms and the respect given to her(?) by the other warriors- was probably the oldest individual in the village, thick streaks of grey through her(?) short hair and cracked tusks.

Donnie was assuming she was a she, mostly based on what seemed to be breasts on her chest; but he could be wrong. The gender binary he’d known his whole life was mostly useless in space, seeing as some species didn’t have genders at all.

He itched to ask questions about that, maybe document the physical attributes of this new race they’d encountered.

Though, as the chieftain called her people to order and ushered in quiet, Donnie remembered he’d have to survive long enough to do that.

They also had a deadline. If they didn’t get out of this mess in under an hour, they’d be stuck planet-side for another day. The planet they had landed on, for rest and relaxation, happened to be beside a particularly nasty solar storm. Like clockwork, it would become larger at the sun’s setting, and block safe space travel for the rest of the night.

Donnie really, really didn’t want to stay the night here. From the way the warriors circled their group, he thought they might not make through the evening after their trial.

“I still blame you and my brothers,” He said, staring up at the chieftain as she approached.

April elbowed him hard in the side, but otherwise remained silent.

The chieftain opened her mouth, and started gesturing at them as she talked. The village warriors listened attentively as she spoke, echoing with hollers and something suspiciously like war cries in the appropriate spots.

There was a few seconds difference between what words came from the aliens, and the one’s Donnie’s translator relayed in English. There were also pauses in the dialogue, where words or phrases should have been but weren’t. Donnie supposed that even space age technology could fail sometimes, since the vastness of the universe meant it was near impossible to accurately document all languages. That was just unrealistic to expect.

Donnie got enough of the gist though, same as his family around him.

One of them would have to fight, and in exchange, they would earn their freedom. That was the price of having desecrated a sacred statue.

Brilliant.

“What sort of law order is this?” Donnie muttered under the roaring cheers of the crowd.

“An awesome one,” Casey said breathily.

Donnie didn’t see it, but he heard April elbow Casey too.

The chieftain stepped towards them, towering well above their group of six. Even if Donnie had been standing, he probably would have come up to only her chin. And she wasn’t even the tallest member of the village. Some of the warriors were probably over seven feet tall.

She pointed her thick staff at them, the club like head hovering right in front of Donnie’s thankfully flat nose. She said something in her deep rumbling voice, and Donnie’s translator helpfully relayed what she was saying.

Do you accept our terms?

“Uh- yes. Yes we accept your terms of agreement,” Donnie managed, eyeing the heavy metal staff in front of him. He breathed a sigh of relief as the staff was moved away, the chieftain addressing her people again.

“Shouldn’t we ask Leo about this first?” April questioned.

“How? He’s unconscious.”

“Right. Fair enough. So who’s going to fight?”

Donnie opened his mouth to reply, but he cut off as the crowd around them cheered thunderously. A figure stepped into the clearing, and raised their four arms into the air; inciting an even louder round of cheers.

The individual- who Donnie couldn’t identify the gender of at all- was easily the biggest warrior they’d seen so far. Eight feet, good god. Donnie reckoned they were eight feet tall, and made of pure muscle.

Four swords longer than Donnie’s arms were strapped across their back, and Donnie had no doubt that the individual could wield them without problem. The yellowed tusks jutting from their lips were cracked on one side, and there seemed to be blood staining the edges. Not a good sign.

The alien opened their mouth, showing even more incisors, and gave a bone rattling bellow.

Donnie closed his eyes, and sighed deeply.

This only ever seemed to happen when they went out for drinks. Maybe it was time to stop doing that.

“Okay, so,” April said in a tight voice. “Fuck that. I’m good, but I’m not that good.”

“I’m not fighting either, just saying that now,” Donnie said, eyeing the biceps the size of his head. He valued his continued semi-good health, thank you very much.

“I’ll do it,” Casey spoke up.

“No you won’t,” Donnie and April chorused in flat tones.

“I could so take them.”

“No you couldn’t,” Donnie and April said in even flatter tones.

While Casey grumbled to April, Donnie sighed again, and leaned around his two human friends to look at his only conscious sibling. “Alright. Mikey? You’re up.”

“Cool,” Mikey replied, nodding nonchalantly. “I’m down for that.”

April whipped her head around, looking at Donnie with wide eyes. “What?? Donnie, wait, why are you-”

“He’s got it, don’t worry,” Donnie said, nodding at the closest villagers to untie Mikey. “Yeah, we nominate my brother. He’s the annoyingly loud one- wait no not that one, that’s Casey. There you go. That’s him.”

“Seriously-? He’s not even half that guy’s height-”

“-why does Mikey get to fight? I wanted to fight, that’s not fair-”

Donnie missed the rest of April’s concerns and Casey’s complaints, due to the loudest round of cheering yet; as Mikey stepped into the unofficial fighting ring with the warrior alien.

"Keep it short, and make it fast,” Donnie reminded his brother, watching him bend into a series of warm up stretches straight from the eighties. “The professor said we had to be back to the ship in under an hour, or we'll be stuck here another day."

"I know I know I know- I got this Dee, I swear," Mikey replied, still stretching, and completely ignoring the eight foot alien warrior in front of him. Mikey’s opponent drew their swords, and swung their weapons through the air in a show of their deadliness. The four swords glinted in the waning daylight, each blade about as wide as Mikey’s arms.

"We're all going to die." April muttered grimly, still ignoring Casey’s whining about not being allowed to fight. “Or go to jail, and have to break out. Again.”

Donnie felt Leo shift beside him, tugging on the joint rope cuffs between them all, and he looked over to see his big brothers finally regaining consciousness.

“Oh good, you finally woke up,” He said, watching Leo and Raph blink blearily. “I was beginning to think I’d need a bucket of water. They didn’t hit you that hard, did they?’

“I- wha-?” Leo slurred, his mask slightly out of place and a dark bruise forming on his face. “Where-?”

“Long story short: you got us arrested, we’re under trial by combat right now, and Mikey’s working on getting us off the hook.”

“WHAT?!” Raph shouted, jerking up from his slump.

“Too late to stop it now. Once someone chooses to fight, neither opponent can back out unless they admit defeat. Or pass out. Or die,” Donnie explained helpfully. “They said so when she-” He nodded at the chieftain watching Mikey and her warrior warm up. “-was explaining things.”

“Who’s idea was it choose Mikey?!” Leo exclaimed in horror, staring at their youngest brother as he kept blithely warming up.

“Mine. It was the best option.”

“What on earth were you thinking?! There’s no way-”

“Mikey! MIKEY! GET BACK HERE AND SWITCH WITH ME!” Raph yelled, struggling against the rope tying them all together. “MIKEY!!”

“Oh my god- Raph, I got this!” Mikey sighed, looking over his shoulder at them all. “I totally. got this.”

A gong rang out, sounding the beginning of the fight, and Leo and Raph’s further exclaimed protests were drowned out.

An alien guard approached Mikey, handing him his formerly confiscated nunchucks. They’d all left their space weaponry on the ship, exchanging them for their earth ones, in an attempt to blend in with the locals. The planet was nearly identical to earth atmosphere-wise too, so no breathing apparatuses necessary. They’d only kept their translators.

As a result, Mikey calmly swinging his nunchucks in the face of four broadswords made for a comically ill-matched sight.

The cheers of the crowd muted Donnie’s brothers’ protests, and he settled in to ignore them while Mikey took care of business.

The eight foot titan gave a battle roar, and charged Donnie’s little brother; swinging all four deadly swords at him, and-

Mikey wasn’t there to be chopped into pieces.

The alien withdrew their swords from the dirt, looking confusedly at the spot Mikey had vanished from. They turned in a circle, eliciting laughter from the crowd of villagers, and still couldn’t find the vanished mutant.

Then-

Mikey reappeared with a whoop- coming back into existence seemingly from nowhere- and caught his opponent across the temple with his nunchaku.

The alien reeled in shock, then recovered, and swung at Mikey again with a snarl.

Mikey slipped under the four simultaneous swings without trouble, and popped up again with a cheeky grin.

“That all you got?” He asked, bouncing from foot to foot jauntily.

The alien frowned, and gave another battle cry as they tried once more to slice Mikey to pieces.

While Leo and Raph, plus April and Casey, all fussed and protested Mikey’s involvement in the fight- Donnie waited calmly for his brother to stop messing around.

Mikey ducked and weaved around the swords aimed at him, practically dancing through the battle. The crowd cheered louder, as Mikey slipped underneath a flurry of jabs to deliver a nerve attack to the alien’s side.

The alien howled, their left secondary arm going limp and dropping its sword. They bared their tusks, and swung again at Mikey with their remaining three arms, missing by inches as Mikey coolly avoided the strikes.

“Ooh shit, you almost had me that time,” Mikey taunted, bouncing away again. “C’mon, I know you can do it. Hit me again- or I guess, hit me for the first time, ha ha.”

The next few minutes turned into a blur- Mikey weaving and dancing around the enormous alien warrior, unbothered as anything as three huge swords were swung at him again and again. A side step here, and a well-timed splits there- Mikey avoided every attack sent at him, and laughed the whole while.

He hadn’t even delivered any other attacks, beyond the original temple scuff and the nerve attack.

The swords scored the dirt ground, leaving long gashes where Mikey had formerly been. The alien warrior kept at it, despite having not landed a single blow yet. In the end of day lighting, the three remaining swords reflected Mikey’s wide grin as he skimmed past them over and over.

Eventually, Mikey slipped through the defenses of the alien- disappearing and reappearing again from thin air- and delivered a second nerve attack.

Down two arms- one left, one right- the towering warrior looked much less intimidating, what with two limbs hanging dead from their sides.

The alien seemed to be getting desperate, egged on by the bloodlust of the crowd, and dove in with their remaining swords to stab again at Mikey.

Mikey- without even using his nunchucks- diverted the attack away from him, and grasped the elbow joint of the alien.

Donnie didn’t wince, but his other family members did, as Mikey shattered the arm joint with his knee.

The alien howled in pain, and dropped the sword held by that now broken arm. They knelt heavily, releasing their only remaining sword to clutch their arm.

Mikey snaked around the kneeling alien, and with fluid grace, joined his weapons together to form his kusarigama as he straddled the alien’s broad back.

Mikey looped his chains around the alien’s neck, and before they could react further than a dismayed exclamation, started choking them.

He held the alien in that chokehold, looking unruffled and almost bored as they scrabbled uselessly against the chains, until the giant slumped heavily to the side and passed out.

The soft thud of the collapsed alien settled a hush on the crowd. Then-

The villagers went wild.

Mikey released them, winding his chains up his arms as he dropped off the alien’s back. At the thunderous applause and cheers surrounding them all, he gave a sweeping bow to the crowd, and basked in the glory of his opponent’s defeat.

Mikey popped his head up, still bowed over, and grinned at Donnie. “Fast enough for you, Dee?”

"You were just playing with them for the last two minutes of that,” Donnie replied in a dry tone, rolling his eyes. “Maybe more.”

"Awww, you caught me," Mikey said with a fake pout.

"Just have them untie us already; we have actual work to do, instead of you teasing people."

"Pft, yeah okay, Mr. Grumpy-Shell."

While Mikey was swarmed by individuals twice and three times his size, a couple of the guards that had been watching Donnie and his family came over to untie them all.

Donnie glanced at his fellow captives, and found every one of them gaping with surprise. He raised and eye ridge at them all. "What? We all know Mikey's got the best skills out of all of us, he just never uses them. Did you think he just sat around watching TV all day?"

“I- well- uh-” Leo stuttered.

“-kind of??” Raph finished for their brother, April and Casey nodding along jerkily.

"Hm, you obviously haven't been around for our ‘danger room’ sessions then."

“Your what?” Leo asked in a worried tone, finally getting over his speechlessness.

“Like from the X-men? He begged me until I agreed to create a simulation for him in the holodeck,” Donnie shrugged out of his loosened ropes, rubbing his slightly sore wrists. “It’s become a bit of a competition lately. To see if I can make a simulation he can’t beat.”

“What the fuck,” Raph muttered in disbelief, remaining on the ground despite their bonds being gone.

Donnie looked at his brothers- both of them seeming thoroughly beaten despite not having fought at all- and shook his head. Honestly, no faith from either of them.

“I still say I could’ve taken ‘em.”

“Casey, no you couldn’t have.”

“Says you, Red.”

“Yes says me, apparently your self-preservation.”

Mikey was still shaking hands with the villagers, who all seemed very accepting of him now that he’d proven his strength. Though his hand was engulfed each time, the villagers seemed happily surprised by the grip Mikey had despite his small size.

The defeated warrior was carted off, probably by a collection of their family and a doctor. They’d likely be well cared for, after facing such a worthy opponent. And in the middle of all the chaos; the chieftain of the village stood alone, looking satisfied with how things had played out.

An interesting perspective, but Donnie would take it; since it meant they got to leave with their heads still attached and their hearts still beating. Also, no escape from space jail; part four in an ongoing series.

Donnie got up, dusting himself off, and went to pull Mikey from his adoring fans. They still had to get back to the ship, after all.

Their family trailed after them as they left, Leo and Raph still in shock and Casey and April bickering back and forth about the fight.

Mikey grinned at Donnie, and elicited another eye roll when he asked if they’d gotten any video of his sweet take down.

All in all, not the weirdest outing they’d had so far on their space quest. Not even close.

[wecthil]

30 Day SWTOR OC Challenge

Day 18: Companions

Who is their first friend among their companions? Who ends up being their best friend? Who do they hate the most (or like the least)? Is there anyone they wouldn’t have recruited by the game gives you?

Bonus: Rate your class’s five ‘original’ companions from least favorite to most favorite. Explain why.

Naryn doesn’t really have “the” one best friend, it’s more of a sliding scale. So it would be more appropriate to state which companion influenced her/meant the most to her at a certain point in the story.

Qyzen Fess: Qyzen is important. He was the first one and was a friend when she was in bitter need of one. His uncomrpomising loyalty and support helped her through a time when she felt everything becoming to much to handle. For that, she is eternally grateful. He never doubted her, and that held her up time and again through their journeys. And when Zakuul invaded and she had her Heroic BSOD, he was the one that set out to fight against them, to show the herald that not all was lost.

On the far side though, his loyalty can border on fanatism. The Herald is never wrong. Qyzen does not fill her with self-doubt, but also doesn’t remind her when she may make the wrong call. Then there is his behaviour at times, especially the hunt for Wookiees. These are some parts of his personality that rub her the wrong way.

Tharan Cedrax: Now, she doesn’t inherently dislike him (even though she does not like being objectified), but sometimes, Tharan is just... urgh. On the one hand, when they are in combat, in strategy, any dire situation really... he is a brilliant strategist, has a marvelous understanding of technology, and he is overall an asset and no-nonsense. But outside? She can’t stand his attitude, she can’t understand how someone who’s been a friend of Jedi for so long can have so little regard for the Force, and she’s still not sure if it was necessary for him to follow her. She doesn’t know if he did it for the thrill, or if he was a creep.

But still. Tharan Cedrax brings perspective. He helps with the technological side of things. He thinks out of the box. He grounds her when she puts too much trust in the Force. He reminds her that the Force can be frightening and flat-out wrong. And for that, she can respect him.

Zenith: Zenith is a special case. In the beginning, working with him was like a slap in the face. She had worked with soldiers with a Cowboy Cop-attitude before, but Zenith was an entirely different case. He was bitter, he was ruthless, he was abrasive. But the thing is: It worked. That was what shocked her most. Where she wasted time, he achieved results. So she decided to compromise. Which led to some of the most difficult decisions in her career.

Zenith is strong. No doubt. Zenith can make decisions when she is paralyzed by doubt, fear, or guilt. But that can be good or bad. Tai Cordan was right: Zenith is too much soldier, too much rebel, too much guerilla. Grey Star knew that too. At the end of the day, Zenith challenged her to leave the moral high ground and see the world for what it is. It is debateble if he was good for her. Even Naryn herself isn’t sure. But at that time, in that situation, with a war at hands and limited options? Maybe he was corrupting. Maybe he was bad. But he was necessary.

Iresso, Lt. Felix: Iresso is a capable soldier. It comes in handy to have someone like him in arms reach. But Naryn doesn’t really need him with her. The point is, in his place, at her side, Iresso in not effective. It would be better for him to command a part of the Rift Alliance’s forces in the field. She likes Iresso. He is a good friend and helped her out of some bad situations. But is he needed? No. All in all, with the you-know-what-spoiler-thing-about-him he is more of a threat. Not like Quinn, but this problem distracts Naryn at an important point. And the last thing she needs is another potential cataclysm spooking around in the back of her mind.

Naryn would never admit this, of course. She probably isn’t even aware of it. She values Felix too much as a friend. But objectively, weighing advantage against disadvantage? Iresso has no place on her ship.

However, when it comes down to a point, she knows she can rely on Felix to make the right call and to remind her if she makes the wrong one. She values his loyalty, his friendship, and his trust in her, even when she herself sometimes lacks it.

Padawan Nadia Grell: Nadia is... interesting, to say the least. She proved herself capable and quick on her feet when they first met, and continued to do so. But she is still reckless. And that is not good. Because Naryn sees much of herself in Nadia. Things she would rather not acknowledge. All in all, she still thinks of herself as an objectively “good” Jedi. Nadia with her recklessness, her outbursts, her tendency to take the easy path reminds Naryn of how she has become over time. Which is not a bad thing, mind you. Just a deeply irritating one. Which may prove fatal in the wrong moment.

On the other hand, though, Nadia gives her an opportunity to grow. To do what she does best: Mend the broken, help the living grow. Granted, Nadia is not a plant, but after all this time, it is soothing to revert to what she likes most and does best. Also, the responsibility. Taking Nadia in as a Padawan takes away her excuses for brooding. After all, this is not an abstract galaxy in danger, this is a real person right in front of her, in need of her guidance and help. Nadia brings much-needed clarity in Naryns life. She grounds her. Naryn will strive to give her Padawan the best education she can, and in doing so, she mends herself.

Naryn has probably no idea just how much she owes Nadia in that regard. Or maybe she does, come to think of it. Maybe she knows that at a certain point, this little, lost girl saved Naryn just as much as she did save Nadia.

To break it down? They compliment each other well, they rise each other up and help each other grow. Master Thashir and Padawan Grell: That is one good team.

[venora-the-rogue]

Eyes.

So I’m cleaning out my laptop, and I came across this little number. I think I wrote it for a NaNoWriMo competition a couple of years ago, but anyway it’s hella cheesy and follows an interesting AU regarding eye ‘colour’ and here for your enjoyment or criticism or possibly both or whatever. *

I glanced around at the faces that passed by me. Ghosts that haunt the city. Unaware of the beauty they held in their eyes. Not the concrete jungle around them, of course, but the world in that area of the beyond – you know, the one that lies just at the edge of your periphery, clutching at the corners of your eyes, wanting to be seen, to be acknowledged.

But not in this world.

No, this world was monotonous shades of black, grey and chrome, broken here and there by the white glare of “social networking”. Which was all a lie, of course. Because nothing says “social” like the urban solitude of eyes locked in battle with touchscreens. Like the windows of our souls have been chained to the bars of the windows of applications, and the chain continues to link through all the new windows opened in new tabs, as souls are slowly pulled forth and sucked into the vastness of the Ethernet to be held on display for eternity.

Does it even matter anymore that those windows, individual and personal and precious, so deeply reflect nature in all its glory?

There was a buzz in my pocket. I pulled out my phone.

Sin u fre

I sighed. Goddamn.

Are you going to ask me properly?

He’s going to hate me.

The phone buzzes.

Grr SINEAD R YOU FREE?

I chuckled.

                                   Close enough. Where am I meeting

                                   you?

           Corner 5th n Bdwy

I pocketed the infernal device and strode out of the square.

As I walked to the corner I watched as people’s eyes stayed glued to their technology. Every now and then a pair of eyes would glance up at me as I passed, but would immediately dart away.

I let the crisp afternoon air whistle out of my nose.

People were always afraid of that which was different.

Where their eyes were (at this point in the late, rainy afternoon) a mottled grey, mine glared back with their deep, speckled black.

I pulled my hood close around my pale face, knowing my little nose and pale cheeks were flushed a soft red by now. Gah, how embarrassing.

I wove through the bustling bodies and spotted Kevin at the corner, waving at me. Got to give him credit: when he meets up with me he avoids the drag of technology. He knows how much I hate it. He stood there in his fashionably holey jeans, Docs and a flannel over a plain white t-shirt. Keeping up with modern trends, yet a little rough around the edges. His coat hung from the nook of one arm. How is he not cold?

I strode up to him, hands stuffed in the pockets of my jacket, and stretched up on my toes to lightly head-butt him, as was our friendly greeting. He chuckled, and his breath burst through those annoyingly perfect teeth in smoky white gusts. This winter was quickly becoming a cold one.

           “Hey, I’ve got someone for you to meet!”

He moved aside to reveal a girl about my age, my height, whose back was to me. He tapped her on the shoulder and she spun around, having been oblivious to my approach, and I noticed the white cord of her earphones brushing against her dark neck. She saw me and quickly pulled them out of her ears with one hand, extending the other towards me.

           “Hi! I’m Leena!”

I blinked at her and took her hand, trying not to notice the stark contrast between her rich skin and my ghostly own.

           “Sinead. How do you know Kevin?”

           “Economics 101. You?”

           “Film and Visual Studies.”

She shot a glance up at Kevin. “I didn’t know you studied Film!”

He shrugged. “It was a phase.”

           “Excuse me,” I shot at him, “Fine Arts are not just a phase. If I remember correctly, you enjoyed those classes. Not my fault your father made you change.”

           “Yeah, remember how we don’t talk about that?”

           “Whatever, man.” I returned my gaze to Leena, and for the first time really considered her eyes. Even in the cold grey of the afternoon, amidst the looming clouds and the steady shimmer of rain, her eyes remained an almost iridescent honey gold, with pink undertones.

She blinked and looked to the ground, tucking a curl behind her ear.

           “Sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.”

           “No, it…it’s okay.” She glanced back up at me. “Yours are different too.”

I felt my cheeks flush, and cleared my throat. “So, where are we going for coffee?”

           “I know a nice little café near the park,” Leena suggested. “It’s tucked away in a quiet side-street, they’re really lovely in there.”

***

The train rattled along the tracks, taking me home. We’d spent most of the evening in the café talking and laughing and sharing snacks, reminiscing in our pairs. But I’d noticed something different in the air all evening.

Kevin hadn’t brought Leena along by accident.

After we’d farewelled Leena I’d probed him about it. His enduring silence had left me with an almost sour taste in my mouth. He never kept anything from me.

I found myself unintentionally glaring at people along the train carriage. With the sun gone down and the stars beginning to pop out, everyone else’s eyes looked almost like mine now. So when they accidentally caught my gaze, nobody quickly averted their eyes.

The night was my realm.

Yet I felt far from comfort.

My mind tracked through the course of the day. Lectures, a hurried lunch from the deli as I walked to the square, then the café.

I felt like I’d barely listened to Kevin talking that afternoon. Most of my memory of the café was filled with Leena’s face. Especially those eyes…

Was she like me, then? One eye colour, one mode, trapped in that time frame, where all others shifted with the hours and the weather?

Ugh. It was beginning to bug me more than it should. I’d have to let it slide for now.

 But as I went through my daily routine, dragging through the week, I couldn’t get her out of my mind. Her lilting laugh echoed through the crowded caverns of my mind as I drifted through the tedious tasks of the day, her eyes glowing in the backdrop of my dreams. For my dreams are always backed by a golden sun just below the horizon.

The following weekend, sitting on the floor of my shower, the chemical smell of shampoo staining the air, warm flush staining my cheeks, I heard my phone buzz through the music that beat against the edges of the surrounding steam. I sighed heavily, heaved myself up to my feet, turned off the water, and wrapped a towel around me. I quickly dried my hands and reached for the phone.

           Sinead, are you doing anything

           today?

                                   Kev, since when do you use

                                   proper English in texting?

           Actually it’s Leena.

           Kevin’s in the men’s, he told

           me to message you and ask

           if you wanted to join us – we

           were thinking about that new

           indie film that’s just come out?

I’d thought about seeing that one. The reviews had only given it 3.5 stars, but I’d long ago given up on their judgement of films.

                                   Sure thing. Text through the

                                   cinema of choice and I’ll meet

                                   you guys there asap.

***

We ended up going bowling instead, but made plans to get together again by the end of the month to see that film.

It was alright.

We continued like this over the course of a few months, and over several coffees we grew into a very comfortable friendship. Leena and I had found a lot in common, even down to our favourite ice-cream flavour and book genre.

Our next movie date was for another newly released indie film. It was an ‘exclusive’ early viewing. Leena knew a place. This one had only received 2.5 stars.

The film, as I’d suspected, was worth at least 4 stars. Idiot critics. We decided on a new café afterwards and discussed our own personal reviews over coffee. Kevin thought the cinematography was unique. Pssht yeah, like he’d hated Film Studies.

Leena, on the other hand, was enraptured by the soundtrack. She talked about how it had moved through the scenes with perfect grace, with crests and falls and overtures that told as much story as the characters did. I noticed that when she talked about something with this amount of passion, those golden eyes lit up something fierce. It was like staring into a sunrise, the sun just waiting to burst over the horizon.

I talked about the performances, having found them both moving and stoic enough in the right moments to be realistic and relatable. After a while I noticed Leena was watching me with the same interest as I had when she’d spoken.

When she’d gotten up to go to the ladies, I turned on Kevin.

           “What gives?” I whispered.

           “You like her? I knew you’d get along.”

           “Dude, she’s…I don’t know, she’s…”

           “She finds you very interesting too. She wouldn’t stop talking about you at lunch. She was the one who insisted on you joining us today.”

           “I mean she seems nice, and pretty cool, but—”

           “Sin. Really. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

           “Dude…”

           “You’re more alike than you think.”

           “Oh, I know how alike we are.” My thoughts turned again to those eyes. “What’s with—”

           “The burning sunset in her eyes? Dunno. Pretty cool, huh?”

I glared at him. “As ‘pretty cool’ as my freakishly dark ones?”

He shrugged. “So your eyes are stuck in eternal night. So what?”

I shook my head. There was no reasoning with this boy.

Leena hurried back and pulled her phone out of her bag as she recounted how strange the ladies room was in this café, marvelling at the range of fancy, organic soaps.

But as she checked her phone, her face immediately fell.

           “Oh god, I…I’m so sorry, I have to go.”

My throat tightened. “What is it? What’s happened?”

           “I can’t, I…I just…” she quickly gathered her things, pulling on her coat haphazardly. “…I’m sorry…” She rushed out of the café, leaving Kevin and I staring curiously at the door, completely befuddled.

 All the way home I tried messaging her.

                                   Hey. Is everything okay?

                                     Do you want to talk about

                                   it?

                                     It’s okay if you don’t want

                                   to talk about it. But we’re

                                   here for you. Kev and I. You

                                   know…if you need us.

I compulsively checked my phone the whole train ride home, but it remained as silent as the carriage for all its barren conversation.

***

It was 3am before I heard back from Leena. I’d slept restlessly, my stomach churning, and had woken up at a quarter to three. Propped up in bed, re-reading a book whose cover had worn away years ago, I heard my phone buzz against the table. Never before had my hand lashed out to grab it so fast.

           I need help.

My heart stopped for a second. Shit, don’t panic…

                                   Okay…what do you need?

It was a good ten minutes before she responded.

           I don’t know…oh

           god, I don’t know…

                                   Where are you?

           Princess Memorial

           Hospital.

My heart jolted again. My fingers were a blur as I replied.

                                   I’ll be there asap. I’m bringing

                                   ice-cream. You like strawberry,

                                   right?

           I don’t think they’ll let

           you bring food in.

                                   I really don’t give a damn. I’m

                                   bringing it. Also books. Got a great

                                   one I think you should read.

Without waiting for her to reply I jumped out of bed, hurriedly pulled on some sweatpants and a jacket, stuffed the necessities into my bag, messily pulled my fair hair into some sort of bun, and rushed out the door.

 I got to the hospital within the half hour, nervously waiting in the empty foyer for the elevator as Leena gave me the room number. I was losing patience, contemplating taking the stairs, when it arrived with a –ding!-.

I rushed in before the nurse at the front desk got back, before she could tell me the usual ‘no visitors allowed after hours’.

The doors opened onto the third floor and I stuck my head out, checking that the coast was clear. I quietly dashed out and down the hall to the right, checking the numbers. 15…16…17…

I reached 18 and stopped, hesitating.

Taking in a deep breath, I lightly tapped on the door, and it swung ajar.

Peeking in, I spotted Leena in the corner, dark circles under her puffy eyes, her sunset gaze staring into nothingness.

I sidled in quietly, closing the door with a –click!- behind me. She blinked and turned those eyes on me.

Oh god…the pain in that gaze was almost unbearable. My heart lurched against my ribcage, and I walked slowly, quietly, further into the room.

In the bed across from Leena’s chair was a middle-aged woman, unconscious, sunken-eyed, hollow-cheeked, and wired up to all manner of contraptions that gathered around her bedside like mechanical vultures to prey.

I glanced back over at Leena, who was staring at the woman again. She tried to take in a deep shuddering breath, got about halfway there, and then broke down. I dropped the bag I was carrying and moved over to her, kneeling before her, resting a hand on her arm.

           “Leena…what do you need?”

Her eyes swam, a river of tears cascading down her full, speckled cheeks as she shook her head. “I don’t…I don’t know…”

I watched her pull her legs up to her chest, drawing in her arms, and realised that internally she was slowly imploding.

I perched myself on the arm of the chair and wrapped her up in my embrace, resting her head on my chest. We stayed like that for ages, as I just let her cry it out.

While I gently stroked her tight, messy curls, I did the math.

The woman in the bed: probably her mother. The situation: some kind of cancer, judging by how little of her was left. The circumstances: life support. She was practically on death’s door.

 When Leena had calmed down some, I picked up the bag and produced the tub of ice-cream and two spoons. I sat myself on the floor in front of her, resting against her legs, quietly providing the comfort of presence, and passed back one of my old, tattered books.

We waited out the early hours of the morning in reverent silence.

***

The next day I finally plucked up the courage to ask her about it.

           “So…what is it?”

           “Lung cancer.” Ouch. “She wasn’t even a smoker, she was always super healthy. I guess some people are just…” she trailed off, then blinked. “Anyway, her body hasn’t been able to fight it well enough.”

           “Has it spread anywhere else yet?”

           “No. But lungs are delicate things.”

I hesitated, trying to find the right words. “Both lungs? Or just one?”

           “Just the one. But it hit her hard. The life support is mostly to pump oxygen into her, since her lungs aren’t doing a good enough job of it. The good one is struggling on its own.”

           “Has nobody stepped forward as a donor?”

           “I have. Otherwise the waiting list is a mile long. But they won’t do a full lung transplant from a living donor.”

           “Right.” I thought at length about it, then pulled out my retched device to message Kevin.

                                   Come to PMH. Asap.

                                   Bring your portable

                                   wifi.

***

As Kevin consoled Leena, I stepped out into the corridor. Having taken full advantage of his wifi, I was in the process of looking up medical advice when a specialist approached the room.

           “Ma’am, are you here visiting the patient in Room 18?”

           “Kind of. Hey, what are the chances of a lung transplant from a living donor?”

He sighed with resignation. “I have spoken to Miss Leena about this. We’d need a second living donor volunteer for there to be any hope of a successful transplant.”

           “Blood type?”

           “Uh…I’m not exactly authorised to share—”

           “Sir, I really need to you understand the gravity of this situation.”

He hesitated, then checked his notes. “B positive.”

I nodded, thoughtful. It was decided.

           “Doctor, I’m wondering if you could help me.”

***

As the doctor spoke to Leena, I pulled Kevin out into the corridor.

           “Kev, I need you to cover for me. Look after Leena post-surgery, okay?”

           “What surgery, what—” something changed in his blue-sky eyes. “Sin…”

           “Dude, this is a really important favour.”

He scratched the back of his head. “How the hell am I supposed to look after two people at once?”

           “Do I have your word?”

           “…ugh, fine.” We butted heads lightly, and I patted him on the shoulder. The doctor was done speaking with Leena, so I popped in my head.

           “I need to run some errands. Finish off the ice-cream, and get through as much of that book as you can. Trust me, you’ll love the ending. I’ll see you later, okay?” Before she could answer, I was gone.

*****

I woke up slowly, the anaesthesia doing its utmost to drag me back under. My eyes wouldn’t open, and my throat felt dry.

           “Mm…”

I felt a hand on mine. A little rough around the edges.

           “Sin, how are you feeling?” Kevin’s voice was low, quiet.

I tried speaking again. “Lee…”

           “You two are a pair of crazy ladies, you know that?” He chuckled quietly. “She pulled through nicely. They’re transplanting the lung segments now.”

I sort of nodded, as best I could in my condition. I could feel myself drifting back into sleep.

           “It’s okay, Sin. I’ll be here.”

           “Look…”

           “Yeah. I’ll look after her. I know.”

***

The mid-afternoon sunlight shot through the blinds, searing through my eyelids, turning my waking vision into a sea of red.

I pulled up a weary hand to shield my stinging eyes, and felt a shadow fall over me. I took the opportunity to blink my eyes open.

Kevin was standing by me.

           “Afternoon, Sleeping Beauty.” I responded by poking my tongue out, and he laughed quietly, his eyes blazing the bright gold of mid-afternoon. “Feel any better?”

I licked my lips, desperate for moisture. “More awake.”

           “Good, because there’s someone on your other side who has a bone to pick with you.”

Even in my groggy state I felt my heart shudder, and as I turned my head I was met by that searing golden gaze.

           “What the hell were you thinking?” Leena croaked, propped up in the bed next to mine.

           “Same thing you were.” I swallowed hard. What’s a girl got to do to get a drink of water around here?

           “You could have…” she trailed off, and I suddenly felt my stomach drop. Oh man, I didn’t even think…

           “Leena’s mom came out alright too.” Kevin moved around and pulled up a seat between us, at the foot of our beds. “She’s still on life support for now, while her new lung material figures out what to do, but the doc reckons she’ll start a good recovery soon.”

I sighed with relief, and turned back to Leena. She was still glaring at me.

           “What?”

           “Did you even stop to think—”

           “No, actually, I didn’t.” I let my gaze drop to the floor. “I didn’t think. Sorry.” I sighed. “I just wanted to help. Seeing you like that…”

           “Like what?”

I looked back up at her. “It wasn’t just killing her. It was killing you.” She held my gaze, unblinking, processing. “You just didn’t know it yet.” I couldn’t tear myself away from that gaze. “I couldn’t bear to see you like that. So I did what I could.”

She was quiet for a long time.

           “How will I ever make it up to you?” she asked, almost a whisper.

           “Leena, seriously, you don’t have to—”

           “Sinead.” Her eyes were intense. “How can I make it up to you?”

           “Well, you could take her out to dinner.” Kevin’s voice cut in, booming in comparison to our near-whispers.

           “Kev!”

           “She likes Mediterranean.”

           “KEVIN!”

           “Done.” I shot my glance back to Leena, who was nodding, her concentration face on.

           “Leena…”

           “No, this is perfect.” I saw the ghost of a smile touch the corner of her lips. “It’s a great idea.” She looked up, letting that smile gently spread. “I know a place.”

        ��  “Of course you do.” I sighed with exasperation. “Fine. Okay. But the next meal I’m buying.”

           “Oh shut up, we’ll split the next one.”

           “Depends how good this place is. If it’s really as amazing as I know you’re about to suggest—”

           “You’ll love it, it’s…” she stopped, catching up to my comment, and a small laugh escaped her. I joined her momentarily, until we both had to gasp for breath. Our lungs were still healing, after all.

           “So…”

           “Yeah…so…”

           “Oh for god’s sake, get a room,” Kevin sighed loudly.

           “You’re in it,” I shot back, and as he hauled himself out of the chair he laughed.

           “Alright, alright. I’m going to go feed the first floor vending machine all my precious small change to get a downsized can of soda. You gals want anything?”

I glanced back at Leena, and we both smiled. “Nah, we’re good.”

He shrugged, striding out, leaving the two of us to settle into a comfortable silence, her lost in the constant midnight of my gaze, and I knew that I’d follow the burning sunrise in her eyes to the end of my days.

* Copyright © 2017 Kasey Boyd a.k.a arroea-la-kinfa All rights reserved. No portion of this post may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, on any form or by any means - electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise - without the express written permission from the creator. But you may reblog, with appropriate tags, and talk to me if you wish!