#at least until she's old enough to understand what the internet is and what it means to be online

[cheeriecherrymain]

Me: Mother, we should dress the baby up for halloween.

Mother: She's not even four months old yet, she doesn't need candy.

Me: I didn't say anything about candy???

Mom: But then why dress her up?

Me:....You know, just because you've dressed up two babies before now, doesn't mean that it's not still fun >:C

Mom: I've dressed up two babies before, which means I already know how much this one is going to squirm and fuss when she gets uncomfortable.

Me:

Mom:

Me: But-

Mom: You already bought a costume, didn't you?

Me: YES, look at it, it's a little pumpkin overalls set, with a matching hat-

Mom: She'll be too hot-

Me: I considered that when I bought the fabric. It's made out of muslin, so depending on what the weather is like, we can put it on her as just clothes, or we can get her cozy with something warmer underneath.

Mom:

Me:

Mom: You made this?

Me: Yes. the costumes at the store are scratchy and they smell weird.

Mom: ....we should try it on her to make sure it fits...

Me: I mean, it's pretty loose already. I wanted her to be able to wiggle around if she wanted to. Plus I added some extra snaps in case we needed some extra room, or she decided to get significantly bigger in the next month.

Mom: Honey, I'm saying that I would like to put the baby in the pumpkin suit right this very second, because it's very cute.

Me: Oh. Okay! I think Dad has her?

[starshideurfics]

Thirsty Thursday - Buzzed

steddie, omegaverse, modern AU, Eddie got out of Hawkins and got famous

Most days it’s easy to pretend. Steve and Robin share a house and a workplace and most of a life in Indianapolis. He can usually forget how he and Eddie almost had something.

But that was before Eddie moved to L.A. to try doing something with his music, found his way into playing a busker in an indie film that miraculously got oscar buzz, and suddenly he’s a household name, booking tons of projects.

And Steve is happy for him!

Really!

He is.

It’s just… He misses having Eddie around. How excitable and goofy he can be, but also having a thoughtful alpha to hang out with other than Robin.

Not to mention his campfire scent and the way his callused fingers feel against Steve’s skin.

They still talk occasionally, texting mostly, little check-ins every couple months, but Steve hasn’t seen Eddie in-person in at least five years.

That’s why it’s easy to pretend. Steve’s old friend, Eddie, and Eddie Munson, alpha movie star, are two different people.

Steve’s crush can exist between the pages of magazines and on internet gossip sites.

He can moon over the pics from Eddie’s photoshoots that he has saved on his phone in private. Can keep his fantasies contained in his nest as he imagines his fingers sliding into short curls.

At least until he gets a call from Dustin on an unassuming Friday night. Steve and Robin are already nearly through a bottle of wine, kicking their feet up after a long week of teaching, when Steve’s phone rings.

“Eddie’s next movie is shooting in Chicago,” Dustin starts.

“And he’s flying out early so he can stop in Indy for a week. I may have told him he should skip the hotel and stay in your guest room.”

“Dustin!”

“What? You’ve got one of the mattresses from the podcast ads in there! It’s comfy! And that way he doesn’t have to deal with paps!”

“Can you just say paparazzi like a normal person?” Steve sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “But it should be fine. When does he get in?”

“Next weekend.”

“Dustin!”

“I only just found out! El and I are driving down in a week, and Mike and Will are only able to skype in.”

He doesn’t mention Lucas and Max, since they also live in Indy; Dustin and El are likely staying with them.

Robin elbows Steve and hisses for him to put the call on speaker, getting caught up as Steve has a private crisis at the thought of finally seeing Eddie again.

To make matters worse, his totally not stalkerish web alert for Eddie’s name pings after he hangs up with Dustin. A new photo shoot.

Eddie’s curls are gone, buzzed down to his scalp; Steve mourns for a fraction of a second.

Then he needs to squeeze his thighs together.

The wanting that he’s been squashing down for the better part of a decade comes back in full force, strong enough that Robin asks if his cycle is early and he’s going into heat.

Blushing, but knowing he can’t keep a secret from her to save his life, he shows her his phone.

“All I can see is how noticeable his ears are now,” Robin says with a judging look and a shrug. “And I am never going to buy Eddie as a tough guy, but I guess I can understand what you omegas see in him.”

“Rooooob!” Steve whines, indignant.

“Steeeeeve!” she teases back.

“I just… Fuck, I need to get laid.”

“I’m sure Eddie would if you asked him nicely.”

“Rob!”

“He looks like he could hold you down, get you to stop stressing so much.”

“Robin… I can’t think about that.”

“Sure you can.”

“I can’t.”

“You can, and you know why: The bulk of the conversations Eddie and I still have are about you. He always asks me how you are, what you’re up to, at least once a month.”

Steve’s taken aback by that. “What?”

“Yeah. He usually asks if you’re seeing anyone. Tries to sneak it in. Like I’m not going to notice.”

She raises a single eyebrow, and Steve feels intensely confused. “Then how come he doesn’t ask me? Or talk to me more?” He tips back the last of his wine and pulls his legs up tight to his chest.

“Because you’re both idiots,” Robin says, voice warm and full of love as she hugs him.

A week later, a car with dark tinted windows pulls up in Robin and Steve’s driveway.

Eddie has a baseball hat and sunglasses on as he gets out, the disguise barely enough obscure his features, but even if it were better, Steve would still recognize him by his posture.

Robin is out running errands and picking up dinner, but mostly giving Steve an hour of privacy. A chance to say something before either of them can get stuck inside their heads and fuck it up.

“Hey, Stevie,” Eddie says with a smile as he pulls off his sunglasses in the entryway.

“Hey yourself,” Steve replies, pulling Eddie in for a hug, ready to make it quick, only for Eddie to hold on tight and press his nose to Steve’s neck. A purr rumbles from his chest.

Steve reaches up and pulls the hat from Eddie’s head, letting it fall to the ground.

He rubs his fingers over the stubble of the alpha’s hair, keeping him pressed close to the bonding gland at his neck, his scent crying out for Eddie to claim him.

Soft lips ghost against Steve’s neck. “I missed you,” Eddie whispers.

“Missed you, too.”

Steve kisses the side of Eddie’s head, the only part he can reach, lips pressed to the velvet of his shorn hair. Then it’s like his brain suddenly catches up with him. “Sorry! We- I didn’t-”

Eddie presses a single finger to Steve’s lips, finally pulling back to look in his eyes.

Without his curls, Eddie’s gaze is somehow more intense, dark chocolate looking into Steve’s heart. “Don’t apologize, puppy. You have nothing to apologize for, not to me.”

“Eddie…”

“I’m the one who ran away, who’s been hiding instead of alpha-ing up and telling you.”

“Telling me what?” Steve asks, lower lip trembling.

“That even after all this time, I can’t get your scent out of my nose. That I still dream about you every night. That I work so much to keep from going insane missing you. That I sh-”

Steve cuts him off with a kiss.

Eddie doesn’t waste any more time, just picks Steve up, their lips still connected, and carries him to the nearest bedroom—fortunately Steve’s—and drops him on the bed. Getting out of their clothes doesn’t take long; they’ve both waited long enough.

And Robin will be home soon.

Part 2

Now expanded into a full fic! Read here

[keshetchai]

Petty, absurd things I was annoyed by on the internet (specifically the religion subreddit):

Someone (making a islam apologetics defense for the young age of Aisha's marriage and subsequent consummation with Muhammad, by way of trying to point out a cultural hypocrisy in what is or isn't seen as acceptable) pointing to a medieval European princess who got married at the age of six, without any understanding as to what that actually meant in reality to the society of that time. And without any awareness of the history in question. Which is that the six year old princess in question (Isabelle of Valois) was used to formalize and secure diplomatic relations, and then she was moved to a new castle where she was given a court of ladies, tutor, and governess to raise her because she was seen as a child. She didn't even live in the same place as her adult husband (Richard II), and only saw him on chaperoned visits because she was legally and socially not yet old enough for consummation under catholic canon law. Also her Kingly husband died by the time she was 11, he spent the last year of their marriage on a military campaign, and he died before they consummated anything. It was a political and diplomatic contract with no adult sexual or romantic interactions before he died. She remarried at 16, and died in childbirth at 19, which is still really young! But she was NOT being coerced as a 7 year old because that was illegal and would've been a diplomatic nightmare! There was literally no reason to do this. An adult King could (and likely would) be far more likely to avail himself of willing courtesans than he would be to spectacularly offend his newly cemented ally who gave him a queen. Terrible comparison. 0/10. No understanding of medieval European royal politics. Most European medieval royalty who married very young didn't have children until they were at least 18 or 19. Augh. Medievalist annoyances!!!

And THEN someone else tried to criticize the BITE model for identifying authoritarian and manipulative groups (destructive cults) but their criticism was entirely based on like....a) fundamentally failing to understand BITE model must be used in conjunction with the Influence Continuum and b) having zero reading comprehension or critical thinking skills whatsoever to the point where they were trying to say that the BITE model considers prayer in general to be a tactic of authoritarian control and is equivalently scored to outright murder. (It absolutely does not fucking say this!! That's devoid of any understanding of how prayer is even being evaluated specifically within the context of BITE!!!)

and then they tried to be like "people use chat gpt to prove how my religion is a cult and they're wrong, so I invite you to also use chat gpt and see how sports teams and schools could be considered cults!" CHAT GPT IS STUPID AND IM NOT GONNA USE THE BAD ARGUMENT MACHINE TO MAKE ANOTHER BAD ARGUMENT.

They tried to argue baseball teams could be considered cults under the bite model because they "restrict sleep" by having dawn exercise drills during training, and "restrict or control diet" by banning junk food or requiring protein shakes for players. Because fuck the part where we evaluate if there was INFORMED CONSENT regarding the restrictions and considering whether or not these requirements or limitations were outlined in a CONTRACTUAL AGREEMENT FOR AN ATHLETE'S WELLBEING or if they were MISLED, MANIPULATED OR DECEIVED ABOUT THE RULES AND THEIR PURPOSE???

[thenightling]

What's going on in regard to Neil Gaiman. What we know thus far? Early this morning several online news sources posted stories that Neil Gaiman had been accused of "sexual assault." I put that in quotations because roughly one year ago I saw similar headlines in regard to Danny Elfman, which, when you actually read the articles he was mostly being accused of being creepy and perhaps some sexual harassment, i.e. walking around naked in front two accusers, and telling at least one of them that he liked to watch them sleep. The headlines in regard to Danny Elfman were so distorted that the Internet seemed convinced he had r8ped someone and was even arrested. (He was never arrested). Danny Elfman denied the accusations and things quieted down. Now back to Neil Gaiman. The articles seemed dubious at best. I'm NOT doubting any potential victim. I am doubting the writers of the articles. I noticed very careful wording so that the articles could infer and suggest that Neil Gaiman may have assaulted the women but the only thing actually confirmed in the article was that these two women (in their twenties) had been in a consensual relationship with Neil Gaiman. The intimacy, apparently, was "rough." and "painful." Supposedly Neil even told one of them "You need to be punished." and he used his belt on her. This sounds like badly handled BDSM. Even the cartoon Family Guy will tell you that you need a proper "safe word." Anyway, if you read the articles carefully, at no point do they say the women said the encounter was non-consensual. Just that it hurt. And it was unpleasant. They even go out of their way to say that it was consensual but that part seems buried under the sensationalism and flashy headlines. I understand that the human brain is still developing until age twenty-five. And that makes any relationship with someone under the age of twenty-five (even if legal) questionable and uncomfortable. But based on my math it seems the youngest of the women was twenty-six and she, herself, has said the relationship was consensual.

No, it is NOT a good idea to get sexually involved with your child's nanny (as one of them was). No, it is not a good idea to get involved with anyone under the age of twenty-five if you are older. However, I will NOT condemn anyone over the age of twenty-five in a consenting relationship, no matter the age gap. That is agism. And I will not diminish a woman's agency and infantilize her because "Eww, old men are icky!" Cher is a happy relationship with a man forty-years her Jr. And Michael Sheen's wife is younger than him but she does not feel "groomed" because of the age gap.

Yes, there's an uneven power dynamic but as uncomfortable as that might be, it is also not illegal. And it's kind of unfair. Neil Gaiman is pretty much a rock star among authors right now. Eight TV shows based on his characters in less than ten years is rare for a writer. Who could possibly have an even power dynamic with him? Stephen King? Sorry, he's married. Now we come to later in the day. The Internet has heavily condemned Neil Gaiman as a creep, a groomer, a perv, etc... One of Neil Gaiman's "Victims" attempts to clear the air over on X (formerly Twitter) by stating that her words were taken out of context by a conservative podcast. Conservatives have had it in for Neil Gaiman for his very liberal and vocal political views, including being pro-trans rights. But this wasn't good enough.

“It's Easier to Fool People Than It Is to Convince Them That They Have Been Fooled.” – Mark Twain.

The woman, who is one of the two supposed-accusers, is insisting that her words are being taken out of context, that her relationship with Neil Gaiman was consensual. And she is sorry all of this is happening. Those who wanted to believe Neil Gaiman to be a villain in this story couldn't accept her statements and started to over-analyze her wording, calling out things like the wording "It became consensual" which, I admit, is a very weird choice of words, but I think it was in regard to so many people telling her that at her age (Mid-twenties) she didn't really have agency, and he took advantage of her idolizing him. I think she was trying to tiptoe around those who would go "Oh, honey, it was an uneven power dynamic and your brain wasn't fully developed even if you were legally an adult." But alas it didn't work. So it shifted from "Believe all women" to "Believe all women except if they recant or say their words were twisted out of context." I, myself, was scolded for not "Listening to the victim" so I had to point out to the person that at no point did any of the articles actually quote the supposed victims in regard to what Neil Gaiman supposedly did to them. There are no direct quotes. Things are just implied. So one "victim" is recanting. And I can't tell you how accurate it is but apparently one of the two (possibly the one recanting) is prone to "false memories" because of a psychological condition. Too many people are poopooing this but I have actually known someone formerly very close to me who was the victim of her own false memories. It was because of a personality disorder. Disorders like bipolar disorder, histrionic personality disorder, Dissociation, certain forms of maladaptive day dreaming, and even taking the wrong or mis-prescribed medications (anti-psychotics in someone who doesn't need them can cause an adverse reaction). This is ALL that we know so far. "You wouldn't defend him if he wasn't your favorite author." Actually, he's not. I went through a several year Sandman obsession but I'm also obsessed with Dracula, Faust, Frankenstein's monster (literary version), and most Gothic literature. It cycles. It's hard for me to have a favorite author. It varies based on my mood. Right now it might be the late Ray Bradbury. I defended David Bowie when the Internet condemned him as a ped0phile, even though the supposed victim even tried to tell everyone that they got the story all wrong. It's true she was an underage groupie but she had a list of rockstars she wanted to sleep with and she bragged (and still brags) about tricking Bowie by waiting until he was high and convincing him that she was an adult.

I defended Danny Elfman when headlines spread online that said things like "Second victim of sexual assault accuses Danny Elfman" but when you click the article it was actually sexual harrassement and Danny Elfman, of course, denied it happened. And those accusations quietly died down and were very obviously exaggerated by certain dubious "news" sources. Some people were so quick to want to condemn him that they used his song "Little girls" as proof that Danny Elfman was a pervert even though that song, ironically, was meant to call out and shame sexual abuse in Hollywood. The character who narrates the song is caught in the end. And in the case of Neil Gaiman I will wait and see because right now it looks like the accusations and articles are actually contradicting the own supposed accusers. I don't like this "believe all women except if they say that they're being misquoted" nonsense.

[clumsiestgiantess]

Chapter 19 of The Other-world Universe; Alexis ignores her new responsibilities and.. goes home?

all chapters listed here

[Inspiration Strikes]

After double-checking with the outposts to ensure the town would be safe enough without me, I caught Erica just before she went into one of the secret little entrances.  Literally.  I scooped her up as she was walking.  “Oof!” she exclaimed as her chest collided with my palm.  “What-?”  Her disgruntled voice cut off as I curled my fingers around and beneath her, hoisting her gently up in front of my face.  “Erica, I think I’m going to head to my world for a bit.  I want to see if I can make something that’ll help this town, and maybe myself.  Do you mind if I leave you here?  I mean, it’s not like I can go with you into the mountain anyways.”  

Erica’s expression looked a little bit crestfallen for a moment, before turning her attention back to the present.  “Sure, go ahead.  You dragged me all the way up here to ask that?”  “Well, it’s honestly easier for me to see and hear you this way.  Sorry if I picked you up a bit too quickly.  I’ll just stick to talking to you on the ground — I don’t want to hurt you.”  Erica shook her head, reaching out to put an arm around one of my fingers.  “Oh!  No, I just didn’t realize-  You can pick me up whenever you want,” she told me, a shy smile grazing her lips as she turned embarrassedly away.

I squeezed her a bit in my hand, teasing her.  A slight blush crept over her cheeks as I rubbed the side of her arm with the pad of my thumb.  “I didn’t think you’d mind.”  Erica giggled, then shook herself off as if coming to her senses.  “H-Hey!  I’m the one who’s supposed to do the flustering!  Put me down!”  I exhaled a soft breath and let her off on the ground below.  She sauntered away towards the town, but paused at the entrance and turned to me.  “When will you be back?”  It was as if she completely forgot what I’d just told her about needing to be closer to hear her.  Her old house had been up on the cliff — close to my head.  For so long she didn’t have to worry about my ability to understand her, until now.

Thankfully, I caught the last few words of what she said and figured out the rest.  “I think I’ll be back by the end of the day.  If not, definitely sometime tomorrow.  Go enjoy your new house and have fun!  You’ll see me soon.”  Erica nodded, then disappeared into the rocks.

Soon afterwards, I vanished into my own world.  Maybe I can make something here that could act as a shield for the town.  Unfortunately, my father returned to the basement only minutes after I arrived.  I completely forgot what we’d been doing prior.  Next thing I knew, he had me working on disassembling the ping pong table he'd wanted my help with forever ago.  It was messing with my head, the way time was now off-balanced between the other-world and mine.  Technically, in my world, Dad had only asked me to help out about a half-hour ago, but I'd lived out several weeks since then — a month at least.

I worked in silence, thinking through different machines or objects I could create to solve the real problem at hand.  Not only did the town need protection, I needed it too.  Sure, intangibility kept me out of harm's way, but I couldn't pull a punch without my fist falling right through whatever I'd hit.  I needed a weapon.  A defensive weapon.  Something I could use to keep the scientists at bay and fortify the town.

With the work my father gave me finally out of the way, I could get down to business.  I sat in the living room and studied multiple types of weapons on my phone.  An internet deep-dive revealed several pieces of weaponry I had no idea even existed, but nothing felt quite right.  So, for the first time in what felt like forever, I socialized with my family.  My grandfather was more than happy to entertain me with a story from his past, and my grandmother baked us chocolate and peanut butter cookies.

Later, I watched Liam play with the puppy he'd gotten for his most recent birthday.  He was launching a tennis ball from a comically large gun; I even gave it a go, pulling back the reload slider and letting it fly.  I feared we’d give the little thing a heart attack the way his dog flew across the yard after that ball.  

That's when I got an ingenious idea.  I wanted a gun like this one, only instead of shooting tennis balls, it could shoot a barrier of some sort.  Giving a lame excuse, I raced into my room and sketched out the details of my weapon's design, working ceaselessly until I had it looking just the way I imagined.  I felt like a maniac, scribbling away design after design, note after note — listing out everything I could need from my new creation.

Alright, I thought as I stared at the drawing in front of me, it'll shoot a barrier for sure, but what if I need to go on the attack?  Thinking back to the reload track on the top of the gun's barrel, I added a slim light fixture with four even sections to the side of the gun, right beneath it.  So if I pull it back all the way to here, I marked out the very last section, it'll fire a barrier made of some unbreakable glassy-looking light.  Yeah, that way you can still see out of it and still breathe through it because it's technically made of light, but it’ll otherwise be impenetrable.  It was akin to creating things as a little kid, making up stupid completely unreal powers to deal with any possible problems.  However, if I could make boxes that generated both infinite money and food, who's to say I couldn’t make an impossible forcefield if I felt like it?  Checkmate, scientists.

I focused on the other three unmarked sections I added beneath the reload track.  The closest one will shoot bullets made of the same material as the forcefield, and for good measure, I'll make them explode whenever they hit something.  I don’t want to kill anyone with them, though.  They’ll have to be small explosives, just enough to tear through clothing or maybe a layer of skin.  The middle two.. I could make a half-barrier version of the original barrier.  A smaller one I could dispense as a shield whenever I need it.

Since I'm already going to make the bullets explosive, I might as well make the solid-light material itself explosive too.  Someone tries to get through the barrier?  They get an explosion.  Wait, my shield can't explode, I'm holding it!  So… it'll explode if I throw it at someone, or the ground, kinda like a smoke bomb.  That way, I can fight under cover without being intangible!  I’ll make sure to add that the smoke will be invisible to only myself.  That way I can still see everything while everyone else is blinded.

It seemed as if everything was coming together nicely, and I thoroughly enjoyed messing around with the properties of my new solid-light material; utilizing it to give me every possible advantage when I fought.  By dinner, I'd finalized my plans.  The shortest reload notch shot explosive bullets, the longest shot a barrier, and the two in between would either switch the gun to multi-shot mode or generate a shield I could 'break in case of emergency' as a smoke bomb.  I might just break one for a cool entrance, who knows?  

Only after Dad called the family together for dinner did I realize how long I'd been away from the other-world.  I doubted the scientists would come back on the day right after they'd been beaten, though.  At least, that's what I told myself as I sat at the table to eat.

Dinner that night was so mundanely normal compared to the many nights I'd spent in the other-world, that it was almost foreign to me.  Most of my days had been filled with such grand adventures, even the little everyday things suddenly seemed out of place.  Could I even call those days part of my week?  In this world it was still the exact same Tuesday it was when I left days ago.  Technically, when I woke up in my own bed earlier today, I had no idea that the scientists were even in the other-world.  Hell, I had no idea I'd even be in the other-world!  After one of the most mind-bending meals I'd ever eaten, I took my finalized weapon plans to the basement.

Unlike the years prior, I no longer had a curfew I needed to be in bed by.  I could stay up as late as I wanted to deal with the other-world.  The only thing I needed to worry about was someone coming downstairs to find me building with toys at eleven o'clock at night.

As I sat down with a bin of blocks, a sudden realization popped into my mind.  If the table and the things on it really have no correlation to the other-world, then why do I get this ability in the first place?  There had to be a reason.  I’d come up with theoretical reasons why from the very beginning.  They’d changed a bit over the years, but there was always some hypothetical reason that made some logical sense.

Invisibility always made sense because I physically wasn’t supposed to exist in the other-world.  Controlling and intangibility had originally made sense because I was puppeteering fake people, but now it took on a similar explanation to invisibility.  The two powers were my technically non-existent body finding a host, leaving my real one as nothing but a non-physical controller.  However, being able to create whatever I wanted and having it transform into something real in the other-world no longer made sense now that I’d found that the other-world was a real and separate place.

If it is truly separate from the building blocks, I should be able to use whatever I want to make something, right?  I wandered over to a cabinet and gazed into the top bin of office supplies.  Grabbing a packet of sticky notes, I brought them back to the table and pulled off three of them. Quickly, I stuck them together to form a flimsy triangle with an empty center.  I stepped into the strange-feeling spot where I’d fallen, giving it a few properties.  This little triangle is.. a camping tent.  The second after I assumed things had been established, I zapped into the other-world.  Sure enough, when I held out the little thing, it was made of canvas and fabric rather than yellow paper.  Huh, I guess I’m not limited to blocks after all.  

Returning again to my own world, I sat back down on the floor and got to work.  Even though I could use other things, the building bricks were probably the easiest and most versatile thing I could use as material, especially since the material itself didn’t actually matter.  I don’t know why I can do this, but I don’t think I really need to know.  As long as it works, I might as well keep using it.

I’d doubted paper or cardboard could make a better gun than the bricks could, but I was beginning to lose hope after the first hour.  Time and time again I tried to build something that at least somewhat resembled what I had on the paper in front of me, but try as I might, I just couldn't get all the pieces to hold on such a large build.  I needed the launch gun to be scaled to my own height, meaning I’d have to build a fairly large contraption out of the spare pieces still left over from my youth.  I was tempted to steal the gun I’d been inspired by in the first place — Liam’s tennis ball launcher — but realized that the gun I had designed featured a few other add-ons that his plastic one didn’t cover, and scrapped the idea.  

For what must've been hours of building and re-building, I worked late into the night.  However, nothing I tried worked, and I eventually lay down in a pile of discarded bricks, dead tired.  From the floor, I lazily reached across the carpet to my phone.  The clock read two forty-five AM.  It was later than I'd expected; I really should've been back in the other-world by then.  Yet my bed at home was so much more enticing than the literal empty field I slept in before.

In the end, I decided that since it was already late I might as well sleep the night in my own world for a change.  I said I’d be back today or definitely tomorrow.  So I’ll go back tomorrow.  I swear my back cracked in five places at once as I lay down on the blissfully soft mattress in my old room.  Was my bed always this comfortable?  It had barely been three minutes before I slid into a deep dreamless sleep.  I was that tired.  Morning seemed to arrive way too early for my liking.  When I checked the clock on my bedside table, I realized it was actually almost the afternoon.  Now I really should get back to the other-world.  Gun construction will have to wait until later.  

Once I finished breakfast, though it was more of a brunch, I snuck away to the basement.  Bricks were still scattered all over the floor from earlier, so I quickly stashed them away.  I didn't need any clues getting to my family about what I was doing down there.  Not only would they not understand, they would think I'd lost my mind.  I couldn’t even prove the other-world was real; only I could get there.  Though, I guess I could vanish right in front of them, but that would just screw over all of my plans.  No one needed to know, especially if the government, my government, found out about it somehow.  I didn’t need two worlds of people to fight with; one was plenty.  I’d already angered one government by disrupting their awful plans; I certainly didn’t need another.

Before I could delve further into the possible backlash that might occur after possibly getting two grown men from some unknown world killed, my brother came to the basement.  I practically flung myself away from the table, landing heavily on the couch.  “Oh!  Hey, Liam.  What’s going on?” I asked, hiding my panic as best as I could.  He shrugged, “Dad wants you upstairs.”  “Ok, in a second,” I replied, pretending to busy myself with something.  I was hoping to wait until he left to sneak into the other-world and leave my father’s request for another time.  However, true to his semi-annoying brotherly ways, Liam just stood there waiting for me.  I waved him off but he just shook his head.  He probably knew I was stalling to get out of whatever Dad wanted.  Both of us were guilty of that at one time or another.

The rest of my family was already there by the time Liam and I arrived.  When we stepped out of the basement, my father announced that we were taking our grandparents out to one of the large farms about an hour away.  There was a whole autumn festival going on, and Dad thought it would be a fun way for us to spend time together.  I was hoping to have more time for another trip to check on the other-world, as well as another chance to work on my weapon, but I was still stumped on how to build it without the whole thing falling apart under its own weight.  In the end, I didn't really mind.  I could use some fresh air.  My brother was adamant to stay home at first too, but once Dad told him that pets were allowed at the fairgrounds, he quickly changed his mind.  His new puppy was all the motivation he needed.

The festival was a nice change of pace from the other-world.  In my world, I didn’t have to worry about invading forces or terrified civilians; I could just be a normal person for once.  I still carried over a few habits from the other-world, though.  I kept checking the ground beneath me before I stepped down, and I was hesitant to run anywhere, fearing that I would cause small tremors if I did.

Once we found a place to park at the festival, we went apple picking, which tired my grandparents out fairly quickly.  Dad sat them down at a picnic table, and my brother and I silently groaned at the thought of sitting down when there was so much we hadn't done.  My father must've seen the identical bored look on our faces, because he handed me a twenty dollar bill and told us to go have fun.  Instantly, my brother made a beeline for the pumpkin smash.  I held his dog while he gathered up a bucket of mini pumpkins.  He loaded them into slingshots that had been constructed in a nearby field filled with wooden targets, letting them fly with zealous excitement.

After he had his fun, we moved on to the corn maze — one of my favorite autumn activities.  At the entrance, we each set a stopwatch on our phones.  We quickly counted down to the start, hit the button, and dashed off in different directions through the maze, Scruffy yanking my brother out of sight.  I found myself lost multiple times, even passing him once at an intersection.  Suddenly, I was wishing for my other-world height back, if only so I could see over the corn stalks.  

Against all odds, I managed to make my way out first.  I called my brother to tell him I'd won our race, and he burst through the side of the maze a few minutes later.  Now he was the one dragging Scruffy.  Having given up, he'd made his way directly through the walls of corn.  When at last we returned to the table, my dad ordered us food.  To top off the day, my whole family piled into the back of a tractor for a hay bale ride.  By the end, the sky had gotten dark and I was exhausted.  I hadn't exactly slept much the night before — working on my weapon and all.

Back home I lay on my infinitely soft bed, wishing I could have days like that in the other-world.  A day where I could take Erica, and maybe even Ivan, out to somewhere fun.  However, 'fun' was a lot harder to come by in a world ravaged by giants.  

I woke up feeling disconcerted the next day.  After breakfast I deduced that something in my dream might have caused it.  I didn’t remember much, and I don't think it made much sense, but I know for certain that it had something to do with my failed weapon.  Anxiety prompted me back to the basement as I realized that I should’ve returned last night.  Rounding the corner of the staircase, I stopped dead.  The play table was gone.  

Calm down, I reassured myself.  The table and the other-world have nothing to do with eachother, you know that.  That’s the big reason you left the first time. All I need is the spot on the floor where I fell.  Even with that knowledge in mind, it was still unnerving to see the place so barren.  My dad must’ve trashed the play table like he’d said he would.  Cautiously, I stepped over to where I’d fallen — where I’d always felt that strange energy — and warped into the standard original field, just to check that nothing was amiss.  It wasn’t, so I returned immensely relieved.

Again, I tried to make something structurally sound, but nothing stuck.  Well, nothing big enough for me to use stuck.  A small, hand-sized gun would easily stay in one piece, but when I tried to scale it up, everything broke.  Remembering that I could use more than just blocks, I ransacked the unfinished part of the basement for some empty cardboard boxes.  If the bricks kept crumbling apart, I would use something sturdier.  With a roll of masking tape, a pair of scissors, and a few boxes, I set everything up yet again in hopes that the change in materials would pay off.  Yet, after hours of work, I still had nothing but my sketches to show for it.  The gun held up well for a while, but as I sat in the warping area for a few minutes to give it its powerful attributes, the tape would always lose its stick and the whole thing would flatten out.  This happened again and again, no matter how many pieces of tape I plastered on.

Angrily, I threw my newly crumpled piece across the floor, breaking it further.  In vain, I grabbed a random chunk and thought: This stupid piece of cardboard is a gun.  Immediately, I disappeared to the other-world to see my results.  Despite my immense hatred for that piece of cardboard, I couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the result of my half-attempt at creation.  It was a gun alright, an extremely flattened one.  The pistol had taken the shape of the bent box, and looked more like a metal boomerang than an actual gun.  

Sighing, I chucked it into the field that I always warped into and returned home.  “I need a break,” I grumbled tiredly, “Something distracting, preferably.”  That's how I spent most of my day playing video games on the TV with my brother.  It was so distracting that I forgot I should have been back in the other-world that day.  However, after a rematch on the big screen once dinner was over, my day was gone, as well as my chance to properly return.  No, it was not an excuse for me to stay in my way less problematic, way more relaxing world.  Or maybe it is, but can I really blame myself for wanting to live in my own reality?

After three days of off-and-on weapons building and RnR, I returned to the other-world with very little fanfare.  Of course, the guards outside were a bit startled by my sudden arrival, but they quickly realized I wasn't a threat; I'd simply returned from my own world.  Much to my relief, nothing seemed amiss despite having been gone for longer than I intended.  I had doubted the chances of another attack in such a short time, but I couldn't help feeling slightly concerned about being gone for so long.

It's not like I'm leaving them without protection, I reminded myself, settling into my new mountain lookout.  There are still plenty of guards… not that they were very effective protecting the town the first time.  Perched on my stone seat, I could see miles around me in every direction.  As far as I could tell, everything looked normal by other-world standards, so I let my mind wander from lookout duty.

The plans I spent so long drawing up would be completely useless if I couldn’t create a weapon big enough to use.  I'd have to start back at square one with no way to protect the city.  Mulling about the mountains, I boredly watched the clouds slide slowly across the sky.  Suddenly, bits of rock tumbled down the slope beside me, announcing the arrival of someone new.  

Ivan struggled across a thin stretch of the cliffside, almost sliding off of it twice before I offered him my hand instead.  He glanced cautiously down at the steep slope beneath him and slid onto my palm.  “Thanks,” he gasped, out of breath.  Slowly, I brought him to a flatter part of the mountain on my other side.

“What brings you all the way up here?” I asked.  Ivan held up a hand to pause for a moment while he drank from a bottle he’d brought with him in his backpack.  “I wanted to see if you’d figured out a way to protect the town," he answered.  "I know I told you that it’s your job because you broke the ceiling, but it’s mine too.  If you still need ideas, I can help brainstorm.”  

I thought back to how he’d been standing guard a few days earlier.  When I'd first met Ivan, he'd driven out alone to find someone he didn’t really trust, unsure of whether or not they’d even help him, all for a chance to protect everyone else.  Not only did he risk getting attacked by a random ‘giant’ such as myself, he risked getting spotted by the portal ‘giants’ too.

“You really care about them, don’t you?” I asked, gesturing at the town.  He glanced up at me and nodded, looking back out over the view.  “My family lives down there.  Everyone I know who hasn’t been captured lives down there.  It's all any of us have left."  Ivan turned to gesture at the Cavern Town and the gaping hole in its side.  It had seemed like a good idea to create it at the time, but now it fills me with a sort of dread.

Erica keeps telling me that I'm changing for the better, but am I?  Ever since I came back I've hurt, no, killed people from two worlds.  I’d carelessly destroyed this secret place beneath the rocks without thinking of the people I might hurt doing it, or the consequences it might have on me.  That's the kind of thinking that got me into controlling Erica all those years ago.  Sure she says I've changed, but all I can see is me returning to my old habits again.  I don’t want to end up like we did.  Especially not now — not right after I’ve figured out this whole ‘girlfriend from an alternate world’ thing.

I sighed heavily. Ivan must have noticed the way I'd been guiltily staring at the opening into the city; he sighed too.  "To be honest with you, I wasn't that much of a defender before all this.  In fact, I was called out for being a coward."  Startled from my thoughts, I turned to Ivan.  Carefully, I lowered my head to rest on the rocks beside him, trying to better read his expressions.  "But you seem so fearless," I observed, " I doubt many of you from the town would have dared to approach me after what those scientists and I did, nevermind having the nerves to ask me for help.  I couldn't imagine you being a coward if I tried."

Ivan's face scrunched in a melancholy way as he glanced over at me.  "Well, I'd rather risk being caught by you than by the scientists.  I knew you'd befriended one of us, so it was definitely worth a shot.  I had nothing left to lose, anyway."  His expression suddenly darkened and I shuffled a bit further from him, confused.  "My dad was the real defender of my family."  

An uneasy silence rested between us for a moment.  Ivan tugged his legs up to his chest and continued.  "When your people first invaded, they dragged everything into complete chaos.  They tore people right off the ground, threw them into containers, and stepped off into some unknown place through those rifts in the sky.  There was so much screaming and yelling; no one knew what was going on; no one knew what to do.  My dad knew, though.  He kept us herded ahead of himself — every step he kept himself between us and everything else.  Dad was the last to get in the car.  We survived.  Mom, me, my little sister Kelly.  But they took him.  Why did it have to be him?"

The momentary silence before grew larger, an invisible force weighing down our words.  Ivan choked on his question and turned away from me.  His voice thinned to a hoarse whisper.  “It should've been me."  I reached out to comfort him, but stopped once I saw the size of my hand beside him, unsure if he would consider the massive appendage very comforting.

"Hey, don't say that.  It shouldn't have been anyone-"  "No!" he yelled harshly, cutting me off.  "You don't understand, I-  I froze up!  I was scared!  Dad came back for me.  I'm the reason he's gone.  Don't you see?"  Ivan turned back to me, looking up to meet my surprised gaze.  "I have to be strong.  I have to protect them because it's my fault he's gone!"  He seemed surprised by his own outburst — eyes drifting downcast to the rocks beneath him.  Blankly, he stared through them, entirely lost in thought.

Finally, he spoke.  "I.. don't think I've ever said that aloud before. That- It doesn’t sound right saying it aloud."  After another leaden silence, Ivan blinked, eyes going wide like he'd forgotten I was there.  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to dump all this on you."  I shook my head before he could apologize further.  "It's alright," I told him, "Sometimes you need someone to vent to every once and a while, right?"  Ivan nodded, trying on a forced smile before dropping it again.  

"You aren't like those giants."  I wasn't sure if he was telling me this, or just reassuring himself of it, but I took his statement as a form of compliment and nodded slightly.  With a large, airy breath, Ivan steadied himself and stood up.  "I was hoping to help you come up with something, but I think I should just head back."  I nodded in agreement, "Did you want me to bring you back down?  So you don't have to climb all the way there?"  He nodded, silently grateful for an easier way back to the town. Once he slid off my palm, Ivan began to walk back, but stopped abruptly and turned to me.  "You're trying to make something yourself, right?  Like the box you made to take your meals out of?"  "Yeah, I have an idea in mind, but it's too complicated for me to build."  His eyebrows slid together in thought for a moment.  "That shouldn't be a problem, though," he commented, "Just make a container for it instead.  I assume you didn't build the box with all the food already inside it, right?  Make something simple to store whatever it is you're trying to make.  Then you don't need to build the thing inside it, just somewhere for it to stay in."  I thought about it for a brief moment, then gasped as everything clicked in my mind.  "Ivan, you're a genius!  I have to go!"  With that, I vanished to the basement.  I had work to do.

[bonaesperanza]

Another thing I like about Halt and Catch Fire is how it deconstructs the idea of the creative visionary ahead of their time pushing society into the future.

On that show, everyone is kind of a visionary and no one is. If you think about it, all their breakthroughs are a result of their natural tendencies and interests meshing well with the current state of the technology, and their natural tendencies are a product of their histories and temperaments.

Cameron specializes in software, and what she is obviously most interested in is human-computer interaction. This makes sense - at some point she describes herself in middle school as someone who didn't know how to communicate with others, until she was introduced to computers and was thrilled to learn that she could communicate with something she could understand. Computers fulfill her emotional needs, in a way. So whether Cameron will be the innovator is almost entirely a function of how much the current trends or oncoming trends mesh well with her internal perception of computers as something to interact with. She is heartbroken when Joe takes out the proto-chatbot out of The Giant but easily dismisses Donna when Donna pushes to expand Community, because Community isn't about talking to computers, it's about people talking to other people, which to Cameron is initially incomprehensible. Cameron only recognizes the value of Community when she meets several people with trauma similar to her own, and sees how they resolved it not by talking to a computer but by talking to other people. Cagey, asocial Cameron also likes technically complicated things, because she perceives a kind of intimacy and specialness in being the only one to understand how something works. It's a kind of a shield between her and the world, again deriving from the way she found validation and intimacy in working with computers as a kid. Like a jealous lover, she prefers the conversation to be 1-on-1. No wonder she is aghast at the rise of plotless first-person shooters and demands for game controls to be explained - to her it's stupid, ungrateful people unwilling to put in the work necessary to build an intimate relationship with the computer.

Donna is clearly a hardware girl and her most brilliant moments come from creative hardware solutions, but she also spent at least a couple of years as a housewife with two small children and can see the benefit in being able to communicate with other people long-distance. She also grew up in a very image-oriented household and sometimes struggles with similar tendencies herself, so she is also quick to recognize the liberating potential of being anonymous on the internet (Cameron, who is not only uninterested in socializing or making a good impression but also gleefully shows off her worst traits to everyone else - she is the ultimate "queen big dick" - could never). But Donna really isn't that into software, or the newer hardware - in late S4 she fixes up an old radio and admires its old-school simplicity, contrasting it with the newfangled chip-based technology that she dislikes. The tragedy of Donna is that, probably due to her early pregnancy, she never had the chance to work on complex hardware for long enough to make a name out of herself in that field, and hardware is expensive enough that she can't do it at home on the regular or have access to truly innovative stuff outside of a corporate setting like Cameron or Tom did with their more software-based interests (she had to work a random job late into her pregnancy to be able to somehow hustle up the parts for the Symphonic). So it's no wonder that she opts out of the industry entirely and focuses on getting money to people who might need it, a process whose difficulties she's intimately aware of. This way she gets to participate in the more hardware-based stuff in some way - look how happy she is to explore the robotics lab in late S4!

Joe is clearly into literature so he recognizes the potential for a good story, and he is also obviously good at perceiving power plays and imbalances and similar entanglements that are somewhere on the edge between strategy and sociology and politics in a broad sense. This also makes sense, because he grew up near at least some centers of power, and being a queer kid who was aware from an early age of how his social standing was based on a lie probably didn't help. The best illustration of how his moments of savantry are based around strategy games is what he does with the antivirus software: the idea doesn't come from Joe's great technological insights (LOL), it comes from his analysis of several situations happening to him simultaneously - various people reacting to his trustworthiness or lack thereof, and then Cameron having his and his company's balls in a vice grip because she's able to destroy their data or hold it hostage (as Paul Atreides said, "He who can destroy a thing, controls a thing."). So this is where the idea comes from - it's basically an arms deal for a new kind of warfare. And then he leverages this into telling a fanciful larger story about security and safety and society and human rights, probably inspired by being an mlm during the AIDS crisis, because he is a good enough storyteller to position himself as some kind of a messiah, but also because he is aware of the strategic and sociological implications of large powerful entities getting to pick and choose who and what gets to be safe and the psychological effect this has on people (note how his struggle with the board to keep the software free overlaps with the subplot of him having to deal with the homophobic business partner - someone involved in Joe getting a government contract - who explicitly says that he wishes all the gays would just die of AIDS).

Gordon is an optimizer - I don't think we've ever seen him have a truly innovative idea, ever, but give him a prompt, even an impossible one, and he will perfect it, optimize it, streamline it beyond your wildest dreams. It's no wonder Gordon is underappreciated because he's exactly the kind of detail-oriented person who is cast aside in favour of larger, more bombastic personalities, but when the name of the game is slow and steady improvement Gordon does better than anyone because he takes what already exists and makes it better in every way possible. Gordon is kind of an anxious person, and kind of a nitpicky one in most situations (he keeps correcting other people's exaggerations and incorrect statements, it's no wonder he gets along with Kate so well), and he often resists qualitative change but he pushes "the state of the art" forward as much as any of the others. He is an artisan, as reflected in his idea of custom-built boutique computers. This is why the worst thing that can happen to him is his neurodegenerative disorder - it threatens the attention to detail and precision and finesse that make his work truly stand out.

I really enjoyed taking apart these characterizations but I guess that my broader point is that while all these people are brilliant in their own way, they are also not brilliant in many other ways, and rather than being invincible geniuses their success is based entirely on moments when the constantly shifting technological zeitgeist overlaps with their innate way of perceiving the world for a brief moment before the innovation itself necessarily eventually causes a second-order change that creates a new, less compatible status quo.

The narrative is almost Hegelian in its approach; a great man does not create historical reality himself but only uncovers the inevitable future, because what he is personally striving for currently matches up with the broader movements of the world. But if it doesn't, the great man is fucked no matter how great he is - Ryan was more ahead of his time than arguably anyone, and ended up where he did through a combination of various personality flaws and systemic factors.

[eldritch-queern-magicat]

Actually, no, I haven't really changed at all since middle school. I'm still the same deeply creative weirdo with ever-growing eclectic interests. A happily blooming nerd. If I learned about something in school, I wanted to explore it at home, on my own. That's really how the electronics disaster happened. I'm actually incredibly grateful Mom and Dad monitored my Internet use. I am way too curious sometimes. And I have to see shit for myself extremely often.

I wasn't let back out properly as a specific part until sometime in the sixth grade. It was partially the cats, but also realizing Nanny probably wouldn't be around much longer. So when she did die, I was more relieved than anything else. I used to feel bad that I hadn't cried for her.

But she was stifling me and trying to tell me what to be. She didn't like me being curious about makeup? I was low-key kinda thrilled when I got makeup for Christmas in my senior year of high school. I like color. A lot. I used to constantly change my favorite color. Now I just say I love the entire rainbow.

And I had to hide that I absolutely loved Pokémon. I think she thought it was glorifying violence, but it's more like competitive high-contact sports. Either that, or it was the racism. Frankly, probably both. It's probably the one thing she might have been worse than foster care about. But honestly, watching all the stuff that had to do with entirely different cultures was so good for me. It still exposed me to to new ideas and lessons when I actually needed it. Among them, I started passively absorbing any little bit when Taoism or Buddhism were significant themes. Paired with Bible study on Saturday morning, I guess I managed better than I thought.

She was surprisingly ok with when I was really into western fantasy like Sabrina the Teenage Witch. I think she was also ok with Power Rangers and ThunderCats (the original). At least she validated my love of learning new things and legit gave me old text books (that I don't know where she even got) to look at science subjects at home.

I think that really started in the seventh grade when I got so obsessed with astronomy and in particular, black holes. It just amazed me how unfathomably massive the universe is. How far it goes, how long even light takes to travel through it. I couldn't help but find the divine in the actual, physical cosmos. And it was there with every part of it. I would think, ‘How can everything in this physical reality be bad if God had said it was good in the beginning? Surely we haven't corrupted everything. Cats and dogs know about compassion, in a sense. That's good and beautiful.’

It wasn't hard at all to be better than foster care, but she actually was. She did encourage me to ask questions if I was confused. She clarified a lot of the literalist theology so I could start to understand it. I think I asked to study the bible with her, with that very hope. According to Dad, she could keep up with devout Catholics. I had two different children's bibles at her trailer, plus she bought me my own standard bible when I was ten, for my birthday. She and Mom took me to the book store at the mall, and had them print my casual first name with my last name at the bottom right corner of the front in silver letters.

Fun fact, someone actually jokingly asked if I'd grown up Catholic because of my apparently deep knowledge of Christianity. That was during the summer last year. The irony of my current proximity to the nearest Catholic church is not lost on me.

What fucked me back up was how I was treated during high school a lot by peers and family, and largely I just got angrier more than anything else. I was trying my best to do better when it all started going downhill fast again. But apparently I was still not good enough. My cousins suddenly became spoiled brats because of my needs frequently not being met entirely, but they seemed so much better adjusted. They didn't understand, and I didn't know how to break my silence. So I started lashing out because i really didn't have the social skills I needed. So yeah, I was definitely an asshole at times. The bullshit from foster care got a refresh, and I was forced to submit to their training again.

Never had any serious issues with Grandma, though in typical moody teenager fashion, I was sometimes a brat.

There's a reason I didn't really come out of my shell again until my junior year of high school. I decided to try to be more brave the year before, since I knew I'd graduate in Ohio. I got better at my art and creative writing, and it seemed to give me a way to connect with others. I decided to go for the culinary class at the career center because hey--good food--and the only thing that was in question was my literal birth date and legal age restrictions with the student restaurant. I got in. Mom and Dad made absolutely sure it was paid for. So I decided to do another nuts thing and go try out for the spring musical. I met one of my closest friends that way. Truly a charismatic character (gonna tag you, @themerrymutants I miss you). I felt accepted and encouraged, like family is supposed to make you feel.

Memories are really just flooding in now, it's a just lot to process. Maybe it's because while answering the person on anon, I opened up a lot of my own psychological cupboards. I never really said a lot of that at once, let alone even explained my logic behind it all. It put a lot of things into perspective for me.

And I just can't help but think, oh, shit, I actually am competent. But I was constantly second-guessing myself because so many of the people around me were hellbent on judging everything I did. Now I understand that in those cases, they most likely feared how authentic I am. Some people, more or less depending on where I was at any given time, thought I was pretty cool because I was so authentic.

I stopped fronting almost entirely when Mom died. I still hadn't recovered at all from literally anything, and didn't know how to handle that. It took cycling through different roles to find something productive for me. I shattered, and ended up pushing most of my remaining idealism into the then-evolving Lilitu.

But I was always at my best when I was true to myself. There were still plenty of people who loved me for who I really was. And that was just enough to keep going. That is precisely what fueled my spite against others who didn't like me. And Mom sure as fuck never quit going.

-Era 🍎😺

[cruzrogue]

Catfished

Summary: Felicity/Oliver (olicity)

Catfishing is a deceptive activity in which a person creates a fictional persona or fake identity on a social networking service, usually targeting a specific victim.

Summary:

Felicity knows she’s being catfished as the guy behind the screen is using pictures of a guy who is known to be dead. Oliver finding himself using social media to connect to a girl who seems interesting while using his real image knowing everyone thinks him dead. She doesn’t call him out and he doesn’t own up to be the guy who really isn’t dead. Their online chats are innocent enough… that is until a close ally to Oliver calls him out when a picture of a spunky Felicity is found.

***Before posting to A03 Going to post first chapter here***

Chapter 1 Oliver’s secret

Oliver’s name is being called out. He’s in his own head and hasn’t heard the voice calling out for him. Instead…

A hidden photo that Oliver has had for a few years before his return to Starling City is clenched tightly. A photo of a girl that amazingly helped him in some tough times unlike the photo of his ex-girlfriend who brought guilt of things left undone.

Retrieving it from a page in his father’s book of names. He makes sure to hide Laurel’s image as Oliver doesn’t even glance at it placing it back within the pages. In purposely not glancing at that old image that brings a pull in his chest to think the sister of an old flame was lost like him. To find darkness and somehow return in different ways back home.

In the last few months since this lost sister of a woman he’s tried to make amends with is back. They’ve rekindled a relationship of sorts. Sara knows him enough. They have an understanding. Both seeking some comfort in each other. Otherwise, he feels like he isn’t worthy of any other companionship.

Oliver’s eyes scanning the simple photo from an array of pictures username SmokeNFox sent him it was this particular one he needed to print out. Glad he was able to find a printer back when he required it. A crack of a small smile graces his face as he recalls tiptoeing around the makeshift A.R.G.U.S. base to download from the social site to get this snapshot of an incredibly hot girl who texted some very outrageous things. Her pauses in conversation to vent how she can’t believe she wrote what she wrote. The sincerity not lost on him. He may have not heard her voice until his stint in Russia when they reconnected online again.

Oliver mentally documented her voice. Not in his wildest dreams would he think he’d hear it down eighteen flights of stairs from where Walter Steele mentioned Felicity Smoak would be someone to talk about electronics Oliver needed fixed.

SmokeNFox was at Queen Consolidated and to behold Felicity in person was… is the most incredible surprise the universe could ever throw at him. Reaching out to Ms. Smoak was no hardship at all. Her energetic personality ate him up alive. Trying to be aloof to her charm gets harder and harder and it irks him that John Diggle can read him out like that every single time.

At least John has no clue about his true first time he interacted with Felicity “SmokeNFox” Smoak.

Glimpsing at a face that brought a levity in his past journeys back to where he is now. After convincing Maseo in Hong Kong that he would not continue to jeopardize this man’s family. He got to sit down with a laptop which of course was being monitored but it was nice to have some technology at his fingertips. After the usual thing on checking up on his mother and sister and even Tommy. Since the whole ordeal of almost having his best friend killed it was good to know Tommy Merlyn was fine and alive back in Starling City.

Being lonely as evidently shown when Maseo and his wife Tatsu would leave him to the contraption that he is using to navigate the internet. A simple website of ambiguity. The thought of talking to someone outside the restrictive bubble seemed like a grand idea. It took a short bit to figure on a usable username. Kind of lame but doable. He logged in. Answering the site’s interests that he wants to partake in. Simple in fact. He is a male looking for a female. Basic stuff he thinks. Clicking buttons on what personality traits he seems to prefer.

His likes don’t always go hand in hand with what he accepts in real life but here he is in a world of make believe. He knows he wants to mingle with someone on par with what he always imagined would be the best thing ever. No strings attached. Just be raw as natural as he could be and know he couldn’t emotionally get hurt. A person on the other side of a keyboard could not elicit any deep feelings. Thus, Oliver decides to take a leap of faith and bare himself. What does he have to lose? He’s survived some dark shit so far.

And clicking the agree to terms. BeeMyQueen is now able to roam the site to find someone of interest to engage with. 

The voice calling out to him finally gets his attention.

He knows it is too late to hide what is in his grasp. It’s a wonderful picture he finds himself unable to tear away as it elicits a rare smile to form on his face. Glad this portrait of a girl has persisted the journey with him.  A spunky edgy college age girl is looking back at him. Those eyes always had him mesmerized.

Till finding Felicity in the flesh, he always wondered if that crazy stunt of talking to a random girl online was really of the girl, he’s had some far-out fantasies about in some darker times while trying to stay alive. 

“What do you have there, Ollie?”

Sighing at being unable to hide the picture as fast as he should have Sara is already snatching the picture from his now loosen grip.

Her gasp is all it takes to know he is in trouble.

“Hot damn! This can’t be the same girl.” Sara keeping Oliver from getting the photo back as she moves her body away from his, “Not our blondie.” She is making a whistling sound.

“Sara!”

His tone has her jest, “Does she know?”

“Know what?”

“You have a pretty exotic picture of her?”

“Nothing exotic about it.” He reaches over and lucky gets the picture of Felicity Smoak back into his possession.

“How did you come across getting that photo?”

“It’s a long story.”

“While we wait for the perpetrator on that list of yours, I think I can do with an over dramatic Queen story.”

“Fine, but you need to promise me you’ll never tell Felicity about this?”

“Oh, this is some deep…” Sara looking at his hand where a photo is clutched securely.

“Sara?”

“Ollie!” She replies while rolling her eyes.

“Felicity can’t know about this. It would make everything even more tense between us.”

“You have the hots for her.”

“It isn’t like that?”

Sara gives him a dire look as her hands plant themselves on her hips. Giving the illusion she knows more than he is admitting to.

“She deserves better.”

“Better than what?”

“Felicity is…” He takes a few extra seconds before adding, “She’s like sunshine on a darken day. I can’t hurt her. She’s special.”

“Special? And what? I’m chopped liver?”

He huffs, “You know what I mean.”

“Yep, I do. We’re comfort and we have an understanding. It is what makes us…us.”

“I won’t tell the story if you don’t promise to keep it to yourself.”

“Really… Ollie?” Seeing he isn’t budging. “Fine, Oli-ver.”

Oliver looks down at the picture of Felicity Smoak. One taken before she graduated M.I.T. in 2009.

“You promise?”

“My gosh, relax old man. I promise.”

It takes a dragged out look between them for Oliver to relax and begin a tale of how the picture of a Goth Felicity Smoak came into his possession.

[nunuisancenewt]

Something Im curious about is the “ Spay-Bortion” rate in the shelter system, and how many animals are born to pregnant animals already in the shelter system

For the cat TNR clinic I volunteer at, a significant share of the female cats are pregnant , I’ve seen one exception because she was “ about to pop” she gave birth later that evening .

Ive also fostered dogs for a shelter, and they would foster out pregnant mothers for the litter to be raised and the whole family be adopted out later, looking on the internet it seems highly variable for shelter animals , ( which I’m not counting feral TNR cats as part of) , depending on early vs late term , the individual strain of the shelter and if its a high vs low kill rate area, the individual moral idiosyncrasies of the staff and volunteers, how strained the shelter is, r

A small share of animals arrive in shelters pregnant, but dogs and cats have many offspring at a time, and also larger dogs have larger litters ( with the 3 most common breeds in shelters being large breeds), I wouldn’t be surprised at all if the number of animals born in the shelter system and adopted out was a significant fraction of the size of the number of healthy animals euthanized.

Placental mammals ( and presumably marsupials ) seem to my understanding to be kept in a state of unconciousness, (or at least lowered activity compared to bird fetuses and unconscious most of the time) through a combination of neurochemicals and oxygen deprivation until birth, presumably as a natural defense of the mother from bodily injury from am active youngster, now being unconscious doesn’t mean your not sentient ( sleep) , but I really struggle to imagine what sort of experiences a fetus that has never felt any outside stimuli would conjure up, so ,,,,,, theres a good chance they aren’t sentient at all, possibly not even till first breath?

This is in contrast to egg users like birds, some skinks, or tadpoles, which are much more active and engage in complex behaviors like hatching early in response to disturbances ( presumably predators), communicating with parents or other nestlings via sound, and of course hatching

It feels very … convenient/interesting if fetus were only sentient in species where the whole interest of mother vs offspring moral debate wasn’t relevant at all , but sometimes things are convenient.

Some creatures aren’t even conceived until after there mother dispenses them, lots of marine and aquatic life where zygotes are formed by eggs and sperm released in the water, the Mola Mola is often said to have more offspring than any other animal or at-least vertebrate at a time, but the 300 million eggs it releases are unfertilized, presumably the number of conceived zygotes is significantly smaller ( with the number that develop to the point of sentience smaller still, in countries where zebra danios are counted under laws regulating laboratory animals, only fry old enough to feed on there own count,) I would expect this zygote production rate to be lowest in pelagic fish that spawn in the open ocean and highest in fish that use nests , with those that free spawn in complex environments with structure, barriers, and shelter from currents, like kelp forests, oyster beds, coral reefs etc, falling in the middle. I haven’t found data on this ( though I have found papers on survival rates of some species fishes eggs and fry in aquaculture) quantifying The “ Effective Litter size” as I am calling it , of different marine species, the number of sentient individuals produced on average per reproductive event, would be an important part of understanding the distribution of sentient beings and suffering in the ocean.

[onlyalive41throwaway]

Would I be the asshole if I waited even longer to tell my dad mom cheated

This is a throwaway account. I (18) have been on a 7 week trip with my mom (55F) with me for the majority of it. My dad (48M) and younger sister (16F) arrived last week, on the 6th a Saturday. I found out about my mom having had at least three affairs from 2022-to April of this year. I found this out during our second week of the trip.

Now because I was not at home and this trip was for me to take a class and to visit family. I decided that it wouldn’t be wise or safe for me to tell dad until after the trip ended. That has been my plan. However, now I’m thinking that it would be better to wait a bit longer. But I’m unsure how selfish that would be.

I know I need to tell him soon as they have been talking about buying a house at the place we’ve taken this trip. Having been buying expensive jewelry and being quite frivolous. They’ve also been incredibly lovey dovey with each other. I know and have accepted that telling them will most likely ruin the marriage and quite possibly hurt my relationship with both of them. But I feel sick seeing mom be like this with dad knowing what she’s done. The text messages I saw were incredibly graphic. I have video evidence of those messages on my phone incase mom grows a tech brain and deleted the messages. So there’s no worry about proving it to dad.

It’s just. I still need them. I still need them to help me pay for college, to teach me to drive, to help me pay for my dorm. They’re always so busy. Dad has always worked a job that starts early and ends really late. I used to resent him for that but now I understand. Mom is currently working a night job and a day job as well. They don’t have time to teach me these skills. I don’t have friends who’d be free to help me with this. All my family lives pretty far away, is busy, and/or too old to be able to be of much help. I would have to rely on my parents for this. However, we rarely ever get stuff done on time. I highly doubt they’d be able to make time for me to teach me these skills.

I feel I’m being selfish in wanting to have my parents teach me instead of the internet. I fear they’ll be too busy fighting to teach me once I tell dad.

TLDR: I still need my parents and don’t want to tell dad mom cheated until I’m confident in being able to be a bit more independent. However, I’ve already waited 5-6 weeks and don’t know if I’d be the asshole to put it off longer. Knowing them, this longer could be as late as end of August/early September.

[mythvoiced]

-. Ji Hyun - Celebrity verse (Under Construction)

Manifesting Ferre and Alex's bullet points power abilities, I'm compiling this little post with things about Hyun for this verse before polishing it and eventually adding it to their about (and bothering the SHIT out of Lynnie's characters, I MEAN-); I just need to put the brainstorm brain bubbles somewhere, YAOH-

Hyun is human for this verse, so all details of her main verse pertaining to her gumiho nature are understandably removed (hehehe, past lives though?).

She's physically perma-fem presenting, but she/they genderfluid (closeted, I mean, consider the industry, leans slightly more into 'she') Pansexual, but still very much single-ship with @theimpalpable 's Yeong Boram, that's just... the way it be, I love love. (Which, by the way, means her boyfriend is a CEO~ PLEASE read up on Boram, I love him so mUCH)

Hyun is a 30-year-old super-model of sorts in the South Korean modelling industry, she's made her debut some-time in her late teens and has climbed the ranks of relevance, desirability and brand-deals ever since. Even at an 'old age' such as hers, her youthful appearance (and expertise within the industry) still garners her love and admiration from especially the impressionable female audience following her on social media, and agencies who like working with someone who knows what they're doing.

A few years prior to the 'present', Hyun has publicly announced her interest in venturing deeper into the entertainment industry and stepping out slightly from the beauty industry: not a very welcomed move. Models transition into acting relatively often enough, and actors are almost always simultaneously models, brand deals, ads, sponsorships, not to mention you can only truly make it into both industries if you flex your pretty privilege. Which is why it's so much easier for the populi to forgive a bad actor for being bad if they're at least pretty. Not to delve into how race plays a part in determination of beauty standards, Hyun was set out to make the transition just as easily... so what happened?

If there's one thing people hate about women and fem presenting people... is that they're women and fem presenting people. A woman is adored... until she does something someone else considers 'stepping out of line' and BOOM, dead in a ditch. Hyun does like stepping out of line: prioritizing brands and agencies she actually likes, refusing to work with people she doesn't, caring more about the crew than whatever fashion designer shows their face around, openly expressing her general distaste for the fashion elite, honestly... a bitch. At least according to the people, once news of her 'ungrateful, unprofessional, diva behaviour' started flooding the internet.

A scandal ruined her chances of an easy transition from modelling into acting.

You might argue, WAHOO, feminism~ Hyun is a hero~ No. A lot of people get hurt all the time, a lot of women and fem presenting folks have fought and lost these battles. Hyun never even took political stances, pretended nothing bad ever happened to the world in her bubble of notoriety and fame. The world has never helped her, what does she care about helping the world. But now that bubble burst. And while Hyun doesn't crumble with the lack of it, it sure as fuck pissed her off.

Problem is... she's just a model. Most people in the regular world know her as mannequin of expensive things, she doesn't manage her accounts, she doesn't talk to people, she barely even shows up to places: her beauty is the primary reason for her success, not her PR-ing. So... how to move on from here?

The scandal: I have NO IDEA yet, but I do believe she intended moving into acting for very specific reasons, either to get back at someone or destroy something from within, Hyun may not act like it in any verse but they do actually absolutely hold grudges, one of the things most debilitating to their mental health at times; so whatever happened, was orchestrated specifically to ruin her reputation.

Someone did something they shouldn't have, something he shouldn't have, a man most likely, maybe some kind of harassment, maybe something along the lines of Pro.misi.ng Y.oung W.oma.n but kept hush hush, maybe it wasn't anything that serious but definitely a personal attack against Hyun and Hyun simply snapped, either way... she's hear to make a few pigs squeal in pain.

Hyun also doesn't partake in 'scenes' and 'public scandals'; if she's attending some big social event (against all odds) and you start shit with her, throw a drink at her, she'll laugh in your face (if she can be bothered) and bill you the damages. Head held high, continues sipping on her drink. There's a good chance she just goes get changed and comes back. She is very condescending to people who try to start drama. I'm saying shit like 'oh sweetie, I don't play with kindergarteners' or instantly cutting all ties if she sniffs that kind of behaviour. If befriending Hyun elevates your status, best believe she does not care and will get rid of you if you start shit, good luck keeping that status. This also works against her, if you play your cards right, making her look even more like a diva.

Her way of putting you in your place is not even deeming you worth the trouble.

Now, the question: is this attitude always possible in these industries? Nay~ There are always consequences, there'll always be people stronger than you, with better ties. That's the fun of the plot, though~

She works in the fashion industry specifically and has had some minor cameos in shows as herself mostly.

I tried to sweet-talk around her demeanour but she really simply is a diva isn't she lmao at least she doesn't lose her shit as quickly as Some Celebrity Characters

YOU KNOW WHAT SHE'D DO? She'd help Kang Yohan. I don't know why I thought of that but she'd fuck around and find out and help TDJ's Kang Yohan if he needed a model's services, she'd be down to mess around there.

She's... odd, when it comes to how willing she's to fight for human rights, things she actually does secretly care about, feminism and classism and queer issues and systematic issues, but... she never EVER uses what platform she has. Ever.

Her Instagram handle is @/rubonyhyun which stands for Ruby Onyx Hyun (reference to a pet name Boram has for them in canon verse, I will name-drop Boram as OFTEN as possible) and her PR team runs it... most of the time, at least. She refuses to get a TikTok (she has one, but it's private for mindless scrolling), and her KakaoTalk is obviously private.

[isobelleposts]

Recalling My Childhood Through Patricia Evangelista’s “Some People Need Killing”

By Cassandra Isobelle [June 5, 2024]

[Cover of “Some People Need Killing” by Patricia Evangelista

I was only 9-years-old when Rodrigo Duterte was declared winner of the presidential election back in 2016. I was privileged enough to not witness the War on Drugs up-close and not have to worry about whether my father would be alive the next day or not.

But even so, my recollection of his Presidency was never good. During car rides with my family, I would hear my grandparents swear at the former President and talk about the latest news—the words “bastos” and “manyak” thrown about and engraved in my impression of him. All I knew was that my family did not like him. I saw how opinions would tear friendships and relatives apart, and it wasn’t until the pandemic hit that I began formulating my own thoughts and understanding what had led up to such ruthless comments on the internet.

[Sonya Gregorio, fifty-two, and Frank Anthony, twenty-five, moments before being shot by police officer Jonel Nuezca - December 20, 2020]

It was around the time this video went viral that I was awakened to what was happening in our country. I was told not to watch it because of its violence, and so I never did until recently when it was mentioned in this book. It made me realize how easy it is to scroll past an article or video on Facebook and continue your life wholly unaffected and unknowing of the story behind them, simply because it was not your life taken.

For the majority, life during Duterte’s term was normal. For reporters and journalists, on the other hand, it was a different case.

”I was furious instead at everyone who announced their indignation after ignoring a four-year parade of coffins.

Page 293 of “Some People Need Killing”

The numbers presented on the news of the Extrajudicial Killings were large, but not enough for the people to take action. It wasn’t enough that these cases were published through news articles day after day by people that stayed up just to tell the victims’ stories. It wasn’t enough until there were videos.

[Former President Rodrigo Duterte in Malabon, Metro Manila - April 27, 2016]

At some point in reading this book I started noticing how repetitive it can be. Case after case of killings; the same excuses, the same uniforms, the same stories but different characters. — This book is a reflection of Duterte’s leadership; an unending cycle.

”Kill, for example. It’s a word my president uses often. He said it at least 1,254 times in the first six months of his presidency, in a variety of contexts against his enemies.”

Page 6 of “Some People Need Killing”

Kill the drug addicts. Kill the activists. Kill the journalists. Kill them, period.

Patricia Evangelista’s efforts are present in the way this book captured so many details—the people she had to talk to, the stories she had to hear, and the bodies she had to witness just to complete this book. “Some People Need Killing” is a memoir, not just of the author's life but of the country’s.

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Fic Titles That Are Questions (2) Masterlist

Links Last Checked: August 10th, 2024

part one

“Can I get some editing tips?” (ao3) - yikesola

Summary: This isn’t the first time Dan has seen AmazingPhil in the University of York library. It’s not the second or third time either. But it is the first time he’s going to be brave enough to say something.

A fic about bravery and bravado.

Can You Check Me Out? (ao3) - kageyama_drama

Summary: dan has been a busboy at a local restaurant for a couple years and phil is a server, brand new to the job. almost immediately, a friendship is formed, but it probably won't stay that way.

Downpour (Can't You Hear Me Calling Your Name?) (ao3) - kittycatrin (orphan_account)

Summary: In a universe where you're aware of the physical pain your soulmate is suffering, and where you can choose to share their pain or take their pain away entirely to ease their burden, Dan Howell feels guilty and ashamed. How could he ever be good enough for someone so kind, someone so compassionate? And what happens if they never meet?

It’s in the air and it’s all around, can you feel me now? (ao3) - natigail

Summary: After filming Cards Against Humanity PHAN EDITION, Dan gets an idea into his head involving his DDR mat. He is so focused on that that he nearly misses how Phil starts planning another thing related to the video.

If anyone asks, lap dancing is the perfect way to celebrate a high score on DDR.

Phil Who? (ao3) - CanDanAndPhilNot (enbycalhoun)

Summary: Phil gets amnesia and his husband, Dan, tries to help him remember. Aka my knowledge of amnesia consists of the movie Overboard, and that one episode of Full House so don't come for me.

they grew up so nicely, didn't they? (ao3) - natigail

Summary: Cornelia doesn’t just get a boyfriend when she starts dating Martyn, she gets a whole second family too. Kath and Nigel welcome her with open arms and she becomes a pseudo older sister to Phil.

She is there watching from the sidelines as a boy bolts right into Phil’s heart and sets up camp. She gets to watch as Dan and Phil build careers and an internet community and all the trials and tribulations, as well as the pride and happiness, it brings along.

what are you doing new year's eve? (ao3) - amaes

Summary: On a New Year’s Eve night out, Phil’s anxieties get the best of him, until he meets a soft-eyed bartender.

What day is it? (ao3) - kae_karo

Summary: It's the first day of the semester, and it's already gone to shit: Dan's late to his first class, finds out his mortal enemy, Phil Lester, is the TA, and gets rejected by the girl of his dreams, but at least tomorrow's a new day...right?

Aka the one where Dan and Phil are stuck reliving the same day over and over and can't figure out why.

What Happened to I'll Always Love You? (ao3) - AvalonBell

Summary: It’s 2012 and Dan and Phil can tell that things are different and they don’t like it. It’s a shame that Dan doesn’t quite understand in order to fix something you need to talk about it.

What Happens In Vegas, Stays in Vegas, Right? (ao3) - JenCollins, WordsAblaze

Summary: Dan and Phil fall victim to Vegas’ magic and end up forgetting they got married, but it’s not all that bad in the end…

What if We Stopped Pretending? (ao3) - Full_Moon_Lover

Summary: Dan and Phil are the best of friends. That's it. Until Phil tells his old school friends he's bringing his boyfriend to the school reunion even though he's been single for years. If only he had a best friend willing to pretend to be his boyfriend in order to help him out...

Dan helps Phil out by pretending to be his boyfriend while also hiding the fact that he's been in love with his best friend for seven years.

What'd I Get Right to Deserve Somebody Like You? (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: AU in which Dan Howell and Jack Howard have their own BBC Radio Show and get a chance to interview Phil and PJ's band indie band No Excuses. “Actually, I’m a bit in love with the lead singer and guitarist Phil Lester, but I hear that a lot of people are as well, so I’m a bit far back in the queue.”

Where Are You Christmas? (ao3) - TheUKAmazingDan

Summary: Dan and Phil reunite for Christmas, and Dan suffers a tummy ache that just won't go away.

Who Was This Man Called Phil? (ao3) - developerdaniel

Summary: After four weeks of watching a raven-haired stranger come into the shelter to play with the puppies, Dan finally got the courage to talk to this man called Phil, sparking a new friendship like one he'd never had in his life before. Sure, it was all centred around playing with puppies, but sometimes, seeing a man for two hours a week was all it took to build a friendship stronger than one Dan had ever had before.

Who's Bad? (ao3) - Emejig16

Summary: Dan is dating Phil who is the school’s biggest bad boy and he wants to show him that he can be just as bad as he is.

would it be a sin if I can't help falling in love with you? (ao3) - resurrectdead

Summary: “Hey.”

Phil reaches over the counter. Leaning one elbow on it, he puts a finger underneath Dan’s chin, gently tilts his head back up. Dan tries not to tremble. He darts his eyes up and they catch at his lips, stay there as he speaks. (He wants to taste them so bad.)

“I don’t know what kind of people you’re friends with,” he starts, “but if they aren’t nice to you, maybe you should consider switching them out for some that are.”

or: it's 1978, everything is a bad influence, catholicism makes you a bit sad sometimes and dan finds the answer to all his questions

Why Can't I Marry My Best Friend? (ao3) - phanipiel (Klaine_Lover)

Summary: King Phillip must marry before he turns 21. He doesn't want to, but if he doesn't his great uncle will become king. Phil hosts a ball to meet his suitors. Will his future wife be there?

Dan is Phil's personal servant. He'd rather spend his days in the library rather than doing actual servant duties. Thankfully, he's also Phil's best friend so he doesn't have to do much of that.

Why Can't This Be Love? (ao3) - developerdaniel

Summary: aka the fic where phil tries to listen to music to get over his feelings for dan, but accidentally connects to dan's speakers and they both realise they have feelings for each other and proceed to have hot steamy sex to make sense of their feelings

why did you steal my cotton candy heart? (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: He pulls out a fake bouquet of flowers from behind his back, three of them. Pink, blue and yellow. Sunflowers, they seemed to be, and Phil’s beam practically is one. He passes them to Dan, who is gushing completely, cheeks stained pink.

‘Phil, how did you even get these?’

Phil’s smile turns cocky, ‘My grandma was psychic, I think, so I’m like all magic and stuff. Hence the fact I’m a magician.’

or the one where dan's a moody carnival worker and phil's a popular magician.

would we find each other in any universe? (ao3) - SylvesterLester

Summary: Dan meets the worst possible version of Dan and Phil.

You’re everything I want, why should I resist when you are there for me? (ao3) - smallbump

Summary: high school!au where dan’s failing too many subjects and phil tutors him, but they end up helping each other with so much more.

[fanfic-wonderland]

NOTHING CHANGES ANYTHING {TEEN WOLF}

Synopsis: Penny Brooke is an ordinary sixteen-year-old girl; with an ordinary family, ordinary friends, and a plain old ordinary life. Nothing unusual seems to happen until her all-time crush and best friend, Scott McCall, gets bitten by a werewolf. From that moment on, Penny and her friends find themselves living through dangerous events happening at Beacon Hills, and all of their lives turn upside down...

**This is a rewriting of my old Teen Wolf fanfic of the same name.**

Word count: 1.9k

Ch.1 | Ch.2

————————————————————

CHAPTER ONE: SEARCHING

“… In other news, two men have found half of the body of a girl, who is yet to be identified, while jogging through the Beacon Hills’ preserve. The Beacon County Department and the State Police are currently on the scene searching for the other half and perhaps for something that could lead them to solve this horrifying mystery…”

“Bryson, can you please just change the channel already?” Karen groaned from the other side of the couch. Her head was propped up on her hand and she looked like she was about to die of boredom soon.

Bryson ignored her.

“Since when are you even interested in watching the news?”

“Since there’s been a killer on the loose around Beacon Hills,” He answered without taking his eyes off the screen. "Honestly, Karen, aren't you the least bothered by this?”

“I'm more bothered by the fact that Jersey Shore is on right now and I'm missing it thanks to you. You have your own TV upstairs, you know.”

“You do, too!"

"Well, I want to use this one.”

"So do I—"

“Mom,” I called to her, loud enough so she could hear me from the kitchen. "they’re fighting, again!”

Seconds later, she appeared and stood behind the couch, drying her hands with a piece of white cloth and looking annoyed. "Are you guys seriously doing this right now? On pasta night? While I'm making Carbonara for all of you to enjoy?”

Karen and Bryson looked at each other for a brief moment. "We were just about to solve the issue, mom.” Bryson told her.

"Yeah," Karen added before glaring at me. "Penny just had to go and open her big dumb mouth.”

I raised my hands up in defense. "Look, I'm just trying to watch TV without you guys arguing over the stupidest thing for once.”

"Fine," she folded her arms across her chest. Through the corner of my eye, I saw mom rolling her eyes and walking back to the kitchen. I could’ve sworn I heard her mumbling something under her breath. "Then, maybe you should go to your room.”

"Yeah, and leave us alone, won’t you?” Bryson backed her up.

I stared at them in disbelief. "Are you kidding me? I was here first!”

Both of them shrugged at the same time.

“And I'm the oldest.”

"Well, there’s two of us so if you sum up our ages we’re actually way older than you.” Bryson said. Karen was nodding in agreement, both of them looking like they’d just won a long-running debate.

Was this a twin thing, when one moment they were arguing over something so insignificant and the next they were just working together to go against their oldest sibling? If it was, then I guess I would never understand, but I was sure of something: it was fucking annoying.

“You know what? Fine,” I threw the cushion I was holding onto aside and stood up. "I'll leave before there’s a second killer on the loose.”

As lame as it sounded, that was what my life consisted of on a daily basis. It was never something interesting or new, but I had learned to live with it. I had to, or I probably would’ve gone insane by now.

When I found a random low budget horror movie while browsing through the internet, I threw myself on the bed and got comfortable. Twenty minutes into the movie, and my eyelids began to droop. Either the movie was too shitty for me to stay awake or it was getting late. Regardless, I tried my best to get through it… with no success.

Just as I was finally giving in to sleep, though, I heard a tapping on my window. Jumping on my spot by the sudden sound, I craned my head to take a better look. My first thought was that maybe I had imagined it; it seemed like the most logical thing.

The room was dark and the sky was too, but somehow I managed to make out the figure of someone staring back at me through the glass and my heart almost leaped out of my chest. I rubbed my eyes just in case I was just dreaming, and then I pinched myself for reassurance but even now when I was wide awake the figure was still there.

My body froze and my mind went completely blank; I did not know what to do. What would a person have to do in a situation like this? Could I try and crawl my way out of the room? Should I have made a run for it instead? Could I scream until someone came to the rescue? (Would they even rescue me?) Or could I just simply stay there and fight back?

All of those thoughts were running wild through my head and yet my body was still not responding.

The person tapped on the glass a few more times and I jumped once again. This time, I managed to stand up from my bed, slowly but surely. My eyes never left the figure in case they tried anything to break in, and even though I tried to stay strong my legs were shaking harder with every clumsy step that I took.

When I stood in the middle of the room, the face of the person became much clearer. It was a guy —someone I knew. Someone I knew very well, in fact.

He saw me  staring and waved, his white teeth sticking out in the darkness. I let out a breath that I didn't even realize I was holding and went to pause the movie. When I opened the window, I glared at him. "Scott, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

He was still grinning. "Visiting.”

"You know, a normal person would just knock on someone’s door instead of climbing up on their window and almost giving them a heart attack."

“This was easier, though.” He said, as I stepped aside to let him in.

I quirked a brow. "It’s easier to climb a window than to knock on a door?”

"Well, it got me to your room faster and it avoided me having to explain to your mom why I’m here at this hour and on such a short notice.” Scott sat down on the edge of my bed.

“What are you doing here?”

“I need to borrow your baseball bat.”

I stared at him blankly. "You came all the way to borrow my bat?”

"Mine’s not as sturdy." He explained before glancing at my computer screen, where the movie was still paused. " And I see you’re…. watching a crappy looking movie, where apparently the killer is a—" He did a double, furrowing his eyebrows. "—man in a bunny suit?"

"Yeah," I smiled and batted my eyelashes exaggeratedly. "Want to join me?"

He sighed dramatically as I opened the closet door, grabbing the baseball bat he was looking for. It was my special metal bat, used only for emergencies and drastic situations. It also worked for threats. ''It sounds very, very tempting, but we were just passing by. We can’t stay out for too long, anyways.''

I gave him a confused look while handing him the bat. "We?”

"Stiles is outside."

“Of course, I should’ve known,” I rolled my eyes. ''And why did you guys make plans without me?"

He shrugged. "We're just going to take a late night walk through the preserve. No big deal,  nothing interesting."

I closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Please don’t tell me that you guys are stupid enough to go and look for the missing body…”

Scott didn't say anything, but one look at him told me everything that I needed to know.

“Did Stiles come up with this idea?” I asked him.

He scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Maybe.”

I groaned. "How many times have I told you not to go through with what Stiles tells you?”

"We’ll only be looking for a few minutes, I promise.” He said quickly.

“There is something out there, Scott,” I argued. "A girl is missing half of her body—”

"But we’ll be fine,” Scott cut me off. "And besides, It’s not like we’re going to be alone, Stiles’ dad is also helping with the search.”

I narrowed my eyes at him and scoffed. "Yeah, and I'm sure that Sheriff Stilinski will really appreciate you and Stiles being there.”

“He will once we successfully locate the body.” He smiled proudly. I must’ve not looked too convinced still because he then grabbed me by the shoulders in a reassuring way. It sent an involuntary bolt of electricity all over my body.

I guess I forgot to mention that this is the cliché story of a girl who had a huge crush on her best friend. A crush that she has had on him since elementary school, but he had ever noticed because he was too much of an idiot.

“Trust me, please?” Scott said, looking at me with those sweet brown eyes that make me melt every single freaking time.

I sighed in defeat. "I... trust you. I don’t trust Stiles, though.”

He chuckled. "You love him.”

"Yeah, but trusting him is hard a lot of times.”

"Okay, but I’m not, right?” He smiled innocently.

I hesitated before saying, "Of course not.”

At the end of the day, however, both of them were equally as dumb in my eyes; I trusted neither of them when it came to making important decisions. Besides, they were boys.

“Good,” Scott said. "So, I'll see you tomorrow, then."

I gave a small shrug. ''Sure, It’s not like I’ll be doing anything else. Poor Penny will be here all alone, watching a movie about a killer bunny man, and then she’ll go to school tomorrow because she actually follows the rules and has a sense of logic.''

"Okay, now you’re just being dramatic.” He rolled his eyes and I laughed.

At that same time, a very familiar voice was heard from outside. ''Scott, hurry up, we're leaving!''

Scott looked out the window. "I'm coming!"

"That's the devil's voice, Scott, I’m telling you, you should not listen to it.”

“Again, dramatic,” He said after he turned back to me. ''I better go.''

I nodded. Whatever happened to them from that point forward would be their own fault. ''See you tomorrow... if you're not dead by then.''

"Yeah, okay," He chuckled, kissing my cheek. ''Bye, Penny.''

''Bye.''

And with one last smile, he stepped out of the room and climbed down, bat still in hand. When I looked out the window, Scott and Stiles were already out of sight. I sighed, reaching for the spot where his lips were still tingling in my skin. Scott would often do those little things —kiss my cheek, hold my hand, wrap an arm around my shoulders— where he had me questioning if maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way. It would never get anywhere, though, but I still remained hopeful that in a future he would realize that he had feelings for me, too. It wouldn’t kill me being this hopeful, even after all these years, right?

Before heading back to bed, I made sure to close the curtains this time. I was not up for another jump scare, unless it was from the crappy movie that I was watching.

When I finally decided to resume watching it, I found it hard to concentrate due to the constant worrying going around in my head. I just hope they’re okay…

[sarawritestories]

Hello, I have questions! 🥹🥹

🍓🍬 for the ask game

I'm so happy you have questions,and it just so happens I have answers and opinions 🤣

🍓 How did I get into Fanfiction?

This may be a long-winded answer, I'm sorry

Okay, so I have been writing fanfiction on and off 23. And writing in general since I was able to write (my falling apart SpongeBob diary is fully of scribbles that only 5 year old me understands) and so I truly can't pinpoint how I got into it I know it started around 2006-2007 that I started writing it.

This was when I was really into the Hannah Montana, Naked Brothers Band etc. Honestly, I am so shocked I came out of those years never writing or reading an angsty twilight fanfiction! Anyway I had started getting into journaling and wrote a Hannah Montana Naked Brothers Band Crossover. This story has not and will never see the light of day but the journal still remains into my possession.

I started posting fanfiction in high school, and apparently back when we didn't have A03, Wattpad, or Fanfiction.net, and we posted our fics on YouTube. As far as I knew on that corner of the internet, it was jonas Brothers fanfics, and it was in the Camp Rock craze. I remember stumbling upon a story and was brave enough to share my own (since it also helped me hone my now non-existent video editing skills).

I will note this was when you could get picked on for writing that stuff, so I hid under a pseudonym for a while. And as someone who has seen the fanfic genre grow into what it is now, I'm so happy with how it's become where people can openly talk about it.

Oh, and not that it's a part of the question, but I didn't pick the fanfic writing back up until my senior year of high school. When Oz, the great and powerful came out. You want to read something that will make you cringe. Feel free to find my fanficition where my story ideas start really strong and have since been abandoned. Though there is a criminal mind story, people to this day seem to enjoy SaraWrites23 is the user, but I doubt I'll post much on there anymore.

So, the short of it. I tripped into this hole and stumbled upon this beautifully unique corner of the internet that has always been welcoming to me 😊 thanks for taking a trip down memory lane with me!

🍬 post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character.

I don't know if it's unpopular by any means but I'm about to say it with my whole chest.

FOR THOSE WHO HAVE NOT READ HOUSE OF FLAME AND SHADOW PLEASE STOP READING HERE:

I mean it!

Shoo!

READ AT YOU'RE OWN RISK

If CC3 has taught me anything it's this Hunt was written as a complex character with PTSD and for all 3 books would have laid down his life for his mate. And did not for a minute deserve Bryce's blatant disregard for his PTSD and making fun of him for it. The reason Hunt is not an "alphahole" it's because Bryce is toxic as fuck and at least in book 3 didn't try to help her mate. I understand they were gearing up for war, but I can't help but think if the roles had been swapped Hunt would have made sure she was in the right headspace as we have seen it on the page in the first book.

*end rant*

Ask game

[bizarrequazar]

A letter from a haizhe to Gong Jun. ❤️💙

This was going around Twitter a bit and had me in tears when I read it, so I wanted to port it over to here as well. Below the cut is an edited mtl, if anyone is willing to give it a proper translation I would be incredibly grateful.

EDIT: Translation by Sheena!

~~

Sending on behalf of: @ 望朱一碗文周2号 (This Haizhe-meimei has been chatting with me at Station B, she is very rational and firm, she has always respected and blessed Mom and Dad, and she has been waiting for the day when innocence comes ♥♥)

A letter from a haizhe to Mr. Gong Jun

My dear brother-in-law, Zhang-ge’s husband, Mr. Gong Jun: Hello! First of all, I would like to say Happy New Year to you and him! From 21 to 23 years old, I don't know how many days and nights have passed. I think, in the passage of time, everyone has changed a lot. Yesterday I watched the conversation between you and the past you, and today I thought of the golden mountains again, in my heart I always feel like something is pressing. The days at the beginning were really dark, and everyone in the situation at that time understood the principle of being wise and safe. I was also thinking while I was sad, at least I should be considerate to you, because he loves you, so I would rather you have nothing to do with it. However, I was wrong. I saw how you looked in August, that face that has always been said to be Nuwa’s grand creation. I lamented many times that your skin  that was usually in good condition was so haggard even with makeup. I even heard them [fans] talk about white hairs. That's when I really understood what it means to say "the belt is getting looser and I will never regret it, and I will be haggard because of Yixiao." White hair, born for a lover. It was October 31, 21, I saw your Weibo. I wondered if the dates and photos were wrong, but a few refreshes told me it wasn't. I felt at that moment, you are really crazy, and you really love him. In those days when there was almost no shadow of him on the whole Internet, I could always see him on your Weibo, those red and blue photos let me understand your affection for him. I thought, it's nice to have someone who loves him. Until this year's golden mountains. I feel your cosmic explosion of love. What I have been afraid of and what I regret is that I’m afraid he will never dare to take travel photos again. I don't want him to be stuck in the quagmire, and I don't want him to live in the shadows all his life. So when I saw that photo of the golden mountains, I felt my tears about to fall——The golden mountains at dawn are beautiful, the sky is bright, and people trapped in the shadows can see the light. I think you two are really crazy, but your love is enough to make people shed tears. I have seen the golden mountains illuminated by the sun, and at the same time witnessed a love that is not limited by the world. I said, what a blessing. Thank you, thank you for loving him, thank you for always being by his side. The journey of life is always taking one step at a time. I hope that in the future, when you look back at every step you take, you can smile calmly. I hope you will be happy forever! @ Gong Jun Simon