#sorry the original post was garbled i wrote it and left it open and then decided to post it hours later without rereading

[rockafirevevo]

i was going to write a whole Thing about my pet rosemary/susan ship but with linda/susan becoming more and more of a Thing it feels like poor timing

[ohbaby-obaeme]

ungodly screeching

hello hello!! first post ever so kinda nervous but! i hope everyone enjoys and a reminder that reblogs and feedback are always appreciated!!

characters: lucifer, mammon, leviathan

content/trigger warnings: cursing, angsty on mammon's part, mild lesson 16 mentions, descriptions of death but nothing too graphic

a/n: the song i was listening to at 3 am when i wrote this was 'life goes on' by BTS. i recommend giving it a listen!

“LIKE AN ECHOOOO IN THE FORESSTTTT”

all 7 startled up, regardless if they were awake or not. muddled due to the unholy hour, he stumbled out of bed towards your room, not yet registering that these were screams of passion, not of fear. only halfway there does he realize you’re screaming lyrics. very badly, at that.

“AAHHHHHH AAAAHHH AAHHHHHHH~ AUUUHHHHHAHHHHH!! AUUUHHAAHHHH!!!”

he was going to kill you.

Lucifer:

the vein in his head was 3 seconds away from separating itself from his forehead and strangling you

he wasn’t asleep or awake; in that semi-lucid state as he rested his eyes for a little longer than he would like to admit. the paperwork was particularly heavy tonight.

he strides to your room in less time than it took you to reach the next verse, his purple aura out and about ready to send you to the celestial realm

the door to your room creaks as it swings open, but you don’t really notice, still too lost in the good, good sauce

“MC.”

a chill goes down your spine. you turn slowly to see the thing of nightmares. a lucifer morningstar in his full demon form with bags so heavy under his eyes he looked like a panda

“…”

“…”

“…was I being loud?”

yknow, satan gets compared to lucifer a lot, but for a second, you could swear you saw satan in lucifer’s glare

“i’m sorry” you deployed your best puppy eyes, hoping he would just let you go. unlikely, but possible.

the anger left his eyes soon enough. we all know he’s a cheeseball when it comes to you. now he just looked like a tired old man

a sigh left his mouth. “go to sleep” he says as you nod and scramble to get ready for bed.

you’re more than grateful to be let off so lightly. now you just have to do as he says and you’ll both forget the whole ordeal. just when you’re thanking their father for your good luck-

“oh, you’re cleaning the entire house tomorrow. good luck with mammon’s room.”

god fucking damn it.

Mammon:

human’s in danger, human’s in danger, human’s in danger

everyone likes to shit on him but no one can deny the fact that when he needs to, he’s terrifyingly good at protecting his family. and you were just that, and more.

before the second garbled lyric can leave your throat, he’s slamming your door open. in the few seconds it takes you to react, he’s already assessed the room for possible intruders/ dangers and has come to the conclusion that there were none- you were just devil spawn.

but it takes his heart a while to catch up to his mind, and you take off your headphones to an incredibly still mammon staring into your soul with a look you’ve never seen before.

he’s scared, he realizes with a pang in his chest, he’s so fucking scared that you would be taken away from him again. the same thing had happened the other time, on another seemingly unremarkable night which only marked itself on the calendar with the splatter of your blood. he can see it then, the way your eyes were still open, even as the light keeping them alive had long faded; the way they seemed to ask him how he could let this happen. it goes without saying that he was your protector, but not only had he failed spectacularly at the only job he had, it was also entirely preventable. had he just crashed at your room like he always did, or invited you to his, tsundere persona be damned, you would still be alive today. the original version of you.

and so he spirals, leaving you to panic, especially when you see the tears gathering on his waterline. you’re throwing your arms around him, grabbing at his shoulders, lowering yourself to peer directly into his downcast eyes, anything to get him to look at you. it’s only when you run your thumbs along his cheekbones and kiss the corner of his eye that he looks up, seemingly just remembering that you were here.

“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry” you say, not really knowing what you’re apologizing for.

he shakes his head, clearing the salt from his eyes and finally turning to look at you. “it’s not your fault” he says softly, pulling you in and resting his chin on top of your head. you hear his crackling sniffles from above you as he clears his airway. you stay there for a while, allowing him time to recollect himself.

“you’re an awful singer, you know.” that, and the clear laugh he lets out when you pull back and hit him on the chest tells you that’s it all going to be okay.

Leviathan:

see, he was already one step ahead of you. he was in his room having his own solo karaoke party, when his little reptile ears picked up some ungodly screeching. and you know this is impressive because 1) you were screeching so shrilly you weren’t sure if snakes could even hear, and 2) you got through the ruri chan theme song which he was blasting at full volume through his mega professional speakers.

he slithers (hehe) to your room slowly, pausing a thousand times along the way because he knows sometimes you don’t wanna be disturbed while you’re screaming your lungs out, and because who would wanna see a gross otaku like him in the middle of the night anyway

but the thought of seeing you so passionate, just like him, urges his little awkward butt forward and he finds your door half open, revealing you inside going batshit crazy

using a hairbrush as a mic, you were banging your head back and forth as if possessed, screaming without a care in the world

so in awe, so so in love, he doesn’t realize that his eyes have taken on a shine and his cheeks have taken on a fierce blush. he doesn’t even realize that he’s uttered out “m-moe…” and you are now staring at him like a deer caught in headlights

when his eyes meet yours he JUMPS like a cartoon, and is about ready to run away when you ask “wanna sing together?”

now at least when lucifer inevitably catches you and strings you up from the chandelier in cerberus’ doghouse, you won’t be alone :)

[t-citurnity-moved]

HEY TALK ABOUT YOUR LOVES

Ohohohoho.

My thoughts are more or less about the boys, BUT I feel like I also need to provide context because this series has been such a huge part of my life.

So, therefore, let's start at the beginning.

GOD THIS GOT SO LONG AND I AM SO SORRY BUT I HAVE A LOT OF THOTS AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I have been part of the fanbase (not gonna say fandom, because that implies I'm active at all in the d//m//c "community" when I absolutely am not) since before 2010. That's 10+ years of enjoyment in this series. 10+ years I've been holding onto my feelings because I wasn't sure if it was right to love fictional characters. I still wrote and roleplayed with other people who were also in the fanbase, because... well, writing OC / Canon at the time was the closest anyone could get to saying "I want to date this character and not be judged." (But we all know that even then, if the OC wasn't written a specific way then they'd be considered a sue / stu; don't even get me started there.)

I fell in love with Dante first. He was the main character up until Nero starred in D//M//C4! So why wouldn't I love him? The first piece of media in which I really broke into the series was the anime and that's only because I really loved anime at the time (now not so much, mostly because I don't have attention span, etc). And boy... ohoho boy. I loved him even more. I think it's partly because that was my first real look into the series that I love D//M//C2 so much, because I'm more inclined toward the ""edgy"" side of Dante; wacky wahoo pizza man is cool and all, but I also love retrospective Dante who's a bit serious. Doesn't mean he's not the same Dante, because he absolutely is. But I hate how the fanbase portrays him sometimes. (The same fanbase that hates D//M//C2 and probably hates the reboot too, BUT I'LL TOUCH UPON THAT IN A MOMENT.)

The fact that Dante can be a serious person when he needs to be (or even if he's like... killed his brother several times and is therefore entering into a depressive state because who tf wouldn't) seems lost on a lot of people and it makes me sad. Because when I first really started branching into the fandom, I was (and still am) the same way... I just feel like 2Dante and Anime Dante are just... more relatable? So I lean toward them more than anything because I can understand them more? Because I too have depression and struggle with it? (By no means am I saying that 4/5 Dante don't have depression, I just think at that point he deals with it differently. I have a lot of headcanon there and that in and of itself is a whole ass different discussion. I also think discovering that Nero is Vergil's son / his nephew also helps him handle his depression as well, because "wow... at least I still have some part of Vergil left, even if it is only his kid" plays a bit role in how Dante recovers, BUT THAT'S JUST WHAT I THINK.)

I even think 3Dante has some level of depression going on, even thouh that's the start of the series and it doesn't really start going downhill until after those events. I mean, losing his mother at a young age and also thinking he lost Vergil until, SURPRISE SURPRISE, Vergil invites him to a "bash" which is really just some ploy to gain power? I just think at that point, it's manageable for him; he doesn't struggle with it nearly as much as he does in 2 + Anime.  That being said, the fact that he's so """wacky wahoo""" also leads me to conclusion that, even if it is "manageable," he does still struggle at times and I feel probably overwhelms him at times, so he tries to manage BY being upbeat about things. Which, anyone who has depression knows, is so fucking difficult to do. The fact that Dante can keep going despite all this shit going on in his life makes ME feel like I can keep going.

AND DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON VERGIL AND HIS PROBLEMS. Dude just wanted to be protected and loved.

Actually, LET ME get started on that. Because I have a lot of thots.

Vergil grew up believing their mother chose Dante over him. That she didn't try to save him. That Dante was more important to her than he was. He grew up with this inferiority complex because he didn't know WHY their mother never came to save him. He also grew up thinking he wasn't strong enough to save HER. That's why he actively sought out power, while believing humans were "weak." That's why he manifested this hatred for being half-human. Because he couldn't save his family and, for a long time, he was led to believe his mother didn't care for him nearly as much as she cared for Dante (IE. "saving" Dante, but not Vergil).

Vergil's thirst for power is just misdirected feelings toward his family. He should've been mad at demons for attacking them in the first place, but because he grew up believing what he did, it became hatred toward humans instead. That's why he hated Dante, too. In reality, I don't think he really "hates" Dante, just feels severely inferior (which he veils by """having""" a superiority complex instead of the opposite, which he actually has). I think he just had a lot of conflicted emotions that he was never able to work through. Which is why I love the idea that he and Dante, post-D//M//C5 could reconcile at some point. Because neither of them really hated each other, they just had conflicting viewpoints due to one event that go thrown out of proportion somewhere along the way. Vergil just wanted what Dante had, which he perceived as the love of their mother, because she "chose" to save Dante instead of him. In reality, she tried to go after Vergil too, but simply didn't survive. Vergil was entirely unaware of this, so obviously he'd be upset. It's the crux of all his problems.

Vergil HIMSELF even theorises what would happen if they switched places that day! He wonders what would happen if he and Dante's lives were swapped! (Which, TBH, would be a pretty neat AU, heheheheh.) Legit! "If our positions were switched... would I have your life? And you mine?" DUDE WANTED TO KNOW!!! He wanted to know what it was like to BE Dante, to be LOVED, to be PROTECTED by the ONE PERSON they had in their lives at the time! They only had their mother, so OF COURSE Vergil would be upset due to the circumstances! HE JUST WANTED TO BE PROTECTED AND LOVED.

3Vergil doesn't show much of this side of him, because he's just angry and going through a lot and he JUST wanted to be powerful enough that no one could hurt him any more. He would NEVER say this, but dude....... You cannot convince me this dude just wanted to be powerful to keep himself safe. To feel like he finally would've had enough power to protect the people he loves AND himself. He just didn't want to be hurt again. This is, by NO MEANS, an excuse for his actions. It's an explanation. His actions shouldn't be excused because of his ~ f e e l i n g s ~, but I firmly believe that post-D//M//C5, he could redeem himself for these actions. For everything he's done, he can realise it's wrong. He can grow to be a better person. He can reconcile with Dante and even be a good father to Nero. He can be better and I want to believe that he WOULD be better. After everything V went through, discovering that he doesn't really want to be the person he used to, Vergil can change and be better.

OOFIES. This has gone on long, BUT I STILL HAVE THOUGHTS ABOUT THE REBOOT BOYS THAT I STRUGGLE TO PUT INTO WORDS, SO BEAR WITH ME IF THIS SEEMS STUPID OR GARBLED.

Context for the reboot: It's basically a remake of the series that got poor reception because people struggle to accept change. :) I will not debate this and anyone who wants to come at me can eat my socks.

Dante 2.0, like original Dante, HAS PROBLEMS. He's an edgy punk bitch who has problems and he's so ugly I love him.

This dude went his entire life struggling with his identity as someone "human." At one point, he was so convinced he didn't have a heart that he ripped open his own chest to see if he did. Yeah. Dude has issues. But it's ok, because in game, he legitimately sets aside his own issues with people to save humanity. Dude's got such BDE.

People hate him, but I feel like they fail to realise what the hell he's been through. He's been through just as much shit as original Dante. Same goes for Vergil 2.0. These boys have been through SO MUCH, but people don't see that because "Nooo!! You can't just remake the series!!!" Meanwhile I'm like "hehe handsome nephilim boys go brrr."

I literally cannot begin to explain the amount of hate people have for the reboot and it makes me sad, because... like.... y'all.... don't realise... these dudes... went through so much shit..... and yeah... I get it... remake bad, original good, but dude.... my dude.... my bro.... you do not have to hate it that much.... calm down, it's just a video game....

My dude Dante grew up in the system because the foster homes and shit he got placed in were run by demons!!! So he'd lash out at them!!! He was violent because demons suck!! They killed his mom and enslaved his dad!!! Imagine!!! Being surprised by that!!! When you know what he went through!!! Damn, couldn't be me!!!

Vergil went through some shit too!!! Like!!! Yeah, he was adopted into a rich family and lived a pretty cushy life, but fact of the matter is!!! Their parents died and they had their memories WIPED when they were kids!!! Imagine!!! The distraught!!! When he (since he found out who he was long before Dante did) realised what had happened!!! When he remembered!! When he discovered he wasn't human!! My dude founded a whole ass group of demon hunting hactivists because he knew demons sucked and wanted to make the world a better place. It wasn't until after Mundus (big stinky demon man) died that he started realising how frail humans could be and decided to be an asshole about it.

I'm so sad that there will never be any more about the reboot, because fans decided to be assholes about it. I'm so sad that we'll never learn more about what happened to those boys. I'm so sad that we'll never be able to see whether they reconcile or even have the opportunity to.

Alas, I have to rely on heavy headcanon and personal re-write of the story to fix canon instead. :<

[bindy417]

At the Edge of the Ocean: Part 4 (Olicity AU)

A/N: Hello lovely readers, I’m so excited to be posting the fourth and final part of At the Edge of the Ocean! Thanks so much for hanging in there with me and letting me indulge in this Olicity mermaid AU. Your enthusiasm has been mermazing!

If you haven’t caught up, be sure to read Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3. I also created a playlist of songs related to the themes of this fic if you want to check it out.

Happy reading, and let me know what you think!

Pairing: Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak

Rating: T

Summary: AU. Oliver almost drowns when the Queen’s Gambit sinks and is saved by a mysterious creature. When he learns that his savior is actually a beautiful mermaid named Felicity, Oliver can’t decide if he’s more shocked by her existence or the fact that he feels such a strong connection to her. Coming from two different worlds, Oliver and Felicity must decided if their love is true and what they’re willing to sacrifice to make it work.

Disclaimer: I don’t own Arrow or any of its characters. Except for the Olicity edits with my watermark, the rest of the images and gifs aren’t mine.

Oliver pumped his arms and legs to reach the surface. His lungs strained against the need to inhale, his last stores of oxygen depleted. He almost made it to the surface when something grabbed him by the ankle and dragged him back down.

(Gif via tenor.com)

He squinted in the darkness of the salty depths and shouted when his father’s face emerged. Robert Queen’s eyes were clouded like milky marbles, his skin pale and bloated. Part of his torso was missing; a large bite mark was imprinted into his skin.

His father hadn’t survived. He’d been lost to the depths, and now he wanted Oliver to join him.

(Gif via Wattpad by voidsenses)

Thrashing against Robert’s hold, Oliver finally broke free. A flash of pink colored his peripheral vision. Scales glistened, and he felt oddly comforted. His mind struggled to remember why this vision before him wasn’t a threat but his salvation. The ethereal golden waves of hair floating around the most beautiful face he’d ever seen caused his memory to return. 

“Felicity,” he whispered, though it came out as a bubbly garble in the water. She was the mermaid who saved his life. His very own angelfish.

(Original source: www.taylorswiftisreallyamermaid.com)

Felicity started crying, and it tore at his heart. Why was she sad? Oliver tried to swim toward her and found himself frozen in place.

 “Oliver, help me!” she called to him. “Please!”

 “I’m coming,” he tried to reply. Once again his words could not form. His voice sounded muffled and far away.

 A dark figure was moving in behind Felicity, and fast. Her pleas increased, and Oliver fought even harder to reach her.

 The mysterious figure was big and ominous. A shiny set of razor-sharp teeth suddenly gleamed through the murky water. It was a shark, he was sure of it, and Felicity was dead center in its path. Although her tail thrashed, she also couldn’t move. 

 The deadly creature was almost upon her. 

 “Felicity,” Oliver shouted in warning, suddenly finding his voice. “Get out of there.”

 “I can’t,” she replied, sobbing. He’d never seen her so scared. “Don’t let me go.”

 “I won’t.”

 “Promise me.”

(Original source unknown)

“I promise.” No sooner had he made his vow, the giant shark opened its jaws and consumed Felicity in a single bite.

(Original photo by JadeAlexis18 via We Heart It)

Oliver screamed as his heart ripped in two at the gruesome sight. A wave of dizziness hit him, and he was no longer in the ocean; instead, he was surrounded by a sea of people. Faces came in and out of his vision, shouting to one another.

“Oliver! Oliver!” called a familiar voice in the chaos.

“Mom?” he croaked. Moira Queen came into view for mere seconds before Oliver’s vision blackened.

He remained in the darkness for a long time. Though his body lay motionless, his mind raced. There was no time for rest. He had to get back to Felicity. The look on her face as he promised to never let her go haunted him. He begged her forgiveness. 

When Oliver’s eyes finally opened, one thought stayed with him.

 “Felicity,” he murmured, disoriented.

Blinking several times, Oliver took in his surroundings. The darkness he’d inhabited before was replaced by a bright white ceiling, walls, and floor—a stark contrast from the palette of colors of the island. 

 “You’re awake.”

The unfamiliar voice startled him. He hadn’t known anyone was next to him. The older woman smiled kindly.

“Welcome back, Mr. Queen. Your mother and sister will be so thrilled to know you’re awake.”

“W-Where am I?”

“Starling General.”

“Starling…” He was home. “How?”

“That’s a long story. Best you hear it from the doctor. I’ll go fetch him.” She finished checking his vitals and wheeled away her device. 

Oliver groaned. His body was stiff and his head groggy. The last time he’d felt like this, he’d had the worst hangover of his life.

His headache worsened when the memories came flooding back to him. The shipwreck. Felicity rescuing him. Discovering she was a mermaid. Their time spent together. The giant mutant shark. Felicity on land and him falling even more in love with her. Their last night spent together. Then her walking away from him as he drifted into unconsciousness.

Now he was back in Starling, apparently.

The doctor, a middle-aged Asian man, entered the room minutes later with the same nurse in tow. 

 “Mr. Queen, hello. I’m Dr. Barton. I’m the physician overseeing your recovery. Good news is your vitals are strong—despite the state we found you in,” he explained. “Your blood test showed you’d ingested a very potent barbiturate. We couldn’t identify it, but the lab said it originated from some type of marine life. Do you remember what you might’ve been exposed to on the island?”

“I don’t know.” He really didn’t, seeing as though it was Felicity who’d slipped it to him.

“Are you sure? This substance, it’s quite intriguing,” the doctor persisted. “Some of my colleagues think it could have substantial medicinal purposes.”

“I don’t know,” Oliver repeated. The doctor studied him until the hopeful expression on his face disappeared. Wanting to change the subject, Oliver asked, “How did I get here?”

“Fishermen passing by the island saw your smoke signal. They took you aboard and contacted the proper authorities to bring you back here.” 

 “How long ago was that?”

“A few days.” The doctor’s expression turned sympathetic. “I’m sorry to ask this, Mr. Queen, but the authorities need answers. Do you think your father or anyone else aboard the Queen’s Gambit could’ve survived?”

Oliver shook his head. “No. They’re dead. It was just me.”

“You’re sure you were alone?” he questioned.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Oliver answered, “Yes.”

“Who’s Felicity?”

His eyes widened. How could the doctor possibly know about her? Panic shot through him, wondering if she’d somehow been captured in her attempt to get him help. 

Anticipating his next question, the nurse chimed in, “You muttered her name quite frequently when you were under.”

Trying not to show his relief, Oliver said with a straight face, “I’m sorry, but I don’t know anyone by that name. It was probably just a side effect of whatever was in my system.”

The doctor wrote in his chart while the nurse stared at him intently. She seemed to know he was lying--she’d heard him say Felicity’s name upon waking--but was nice enough not to call him on it. 

“Very well then. Dana will help you get cleaned up. We’ve already notified your family that you’re awake. Your mother is on her way. Later, the authorities would like to get a statement from you. They have a lot of questions about what you endured.”

“Okay,” Oliver muttered, already dreading the interrogation that would come about his experience. 

The nurse, Dana, set up the shower for him in the bathroom. She also got him a razor to shave and cut his long, tangled hair. She was a chatty Kathy and told him all about her early days working in a salon. Oliver was pleased with the short cut she gave him. He didn’t want his mother to see him looking like some wild jungle castaway. 

Nervous butterflies wreaked havoc in his stomach. Oliver couldn’t believe he would actually see his mother again after so long. He wondered if she looked exactly as he’d last seen her. He wondered what she would think of him. Oliver may look more like himself after a shower and shave, but he was a far cry from the son Moira had known.

He couldn’t yet change into his normal clothes, but at least Dana provided him with a set of pants and a t-shirt to replace his johnny. 

Oliver stood by the window, taking in the bright lights and bustling streets of the city when the door to his room opened. His mother’s soft gasp as he turned to face her made his heart clench. 

“Oliver,” she said tentatively, almost as if she was afraid to spook him. Her hair was shorter; the lines in her face more pronounced. Her eyes, however, were filled with the same love and concern she’d always directed his way.

“Mom,” he replied, overcome with emotion. 

“Oh, my beautiful boy,” Moira said, choking back a sob. She reached for him and pulled him into a tight embrace.

Oliver cradled her as she cried into his shoulder. He nuzzled her hair, taking in the familiar scent of her perfume and shampoo. 

It truly hit him then: he was home.

~***~

The tall, strong foundation of the Queen mansion looked like a safe haven in the distance. It had always been Oliver’s refuge in the past—whether it be from bullies as a child or his troubles with the police and paparazzi as a teen. The mansion still brought him comfort now, but Oliver knew what existed out in the big wide world—and there was no escaping reality this time.

“Your room is exactly as I left it,” Moira informed him. “I didn’t have the heart to change anything. I always had hope you would return.”

Oliver observed the foyer with its hardwood paneling and double grand staircases. At the bottom stood their long-time maid, Raisa. Her face had a few more lines, too, but her smile remained warm and bright.

“Good to see you, Raisa.”

“Welcome home, Mr. Oliver.” She addressed Moira, “Mr. Merlyn called. He wants to join you for dinner.”

“Wonderful,” his mother replied. “Oliver, did you hear that?”

He’d heard, but his attention had already turned toward the stairs. At the top stood his litter sister—well, maybe not so little anymore. 

She’d grown in the time he’d been gone. Her light brown hair was longer, and it wasn’t straight but wavy. 

“Hey, Sis,” he said, fighting the tremor in his voice.

“Ollie.” She beamed and quickly made her way down the stairs. “I knew it. I knew you were alive.” Thea threw her arms around him. “I missed you so much.”

Oliver held her just as tightly back. “You were with me the whole time.”

(Original source: http://bit.ly/2manMyA)

“Oliver, honey, why don’t you go up to your room and get settled in before dinner,” Moira suggested.

Oliver was thankful for the reprieve. The onslaught of emotion overwhelmed him.

True to her word, his mother had left his room exactly as it had been. Oliver took it in, feeling a wave of nostalgia, before showering. He needed to wash away the journey home and time in the hospital. 

When he finished and emerged from the bathroom in a towel, he felt refreshed but no less at ease. After his time away, in what was a different world, everything that was once familiar was now unrecognizable.

(Gif via gfycat)

The face in the mirror was a stranger. The marks on his body permanent reminders of all that he’d been through. There was only one reminder he wanted, but that mark couldn’t be seen. Yet he felt it, right in his heart where Felicity had changed him forever.

~***~

After dressing, Oliver made his way downstairs. He halted in the foyer, noticing a framed picture of his father and him many years ago. His fingers grazed the portrait. The grief and despair threatened to consume Oliver—feeling fresh now that he was back in his family home.

The front door opened behind him, startling him. The corner of his mouth twitched at the sight of his best friend.

 “What’d I tell ya. Yachts suck.”

He smiled. “Tommy Merlyn.” The friends embraced.

“Glad you’re alive, buddy.”

“Me too.”

Dinner passed in a blur. His family and Tommy attempted to make conversation, but Oliver didn’t feel much like chatting.

So he let them babble about the Super Bowl games he’d missed and TV shows he needed to catch up on.

Then Thea asked, “What was it like there?”

The room went silent.

“Surreal,” he answered, remembering the night the Gambit had sank and he’d been rescued. The moment Felicity finally revealed herself to him was burned into his brain. Being back home now, a part of him feared it had all been an illusion.

“Tomorrow, you and me are doing the city. We have a lot to catch up on,” Tommy interjected with his usual attempts to lighten the mood.

“That’s a great idea,” Moira agreed.

“I was hoping to swing by the office,” Oliver said.

“There’s plenty of time for all that. Queen Consolidated isn’t going anywhere. But I’ll arrange a tour for us on Thursday. Walter Steele has taken over as CEO. He’ll be thrilled to see you.”

Oliver watched his mother, detecting the uptick in her voice and the way her eyes brightened at the mention of Walter. Just as quickly, he dismissed the thought. She was probably just excited about his return. They were all trying to make the best of his homecoming while avoiding the cause of his disappearance.

~***~

Oliver stood at the water’s edge, staring out at the reflection of the moon on the water’s surface. The Starling City Bay was calm at night. So different from the active tides of the island. He came here on the nights he couldn’t sleep, which was often.

A month had passed since his return, and Oliver did his best to get back to his normal life. He had dinner with his family, hung out with Tommy and Thea, and shadowed Walter at QC. His body was in Starling, yet his mind was still on the island. The first night back had been the hardest. He couldn’t sleep comfortably in his bed—tossing and turning in the dead of night. Eventually, he ended up on the floor, sleeping in front of his open window, needing fresh air.

Oliver hadn’t even known he’d been dreaming until his mother came to check on him.

Startled, he’d grabbed her by the neck, ready for a fight. Oliver apologized profusely. He’d never purposefully harm his mother.

“It’s all right, sweetheart,” she’d comforted him. “You’re home. You’re home.”

He’d been calling for Felicity in his sleep again. His mother had questioned him the next day about it. Oliver avoided answering, knowing the truth would make his family view him as crazy. Sometimes he wondered if he was. Being back home, in the real world, made it easy to question the realness of all he’d endured. 

Oliver thought he’d been putting on a brave face until one day Thea took him to the graves behind the mansion—one belonged to him, the other to his father. Seeing his name carved into it, along with the emptiness he felt, Oliver wasn’t sure if it wasn’t the truth.

“I felt closer to you when you were dead,” Thea had told him, after sharing how she’d come out to talk to him when times were tough. “I know it was hell where you were. But it was hell here, too. You gotta let me in, Ollie. You gotta let someone in.”

Oliver had already let someone in. But how could he tell his sister his sadness came from losing someone he’d loved during what was supposed to be the worst time in his life—and that the emptiness he felt while at home made him want to return to the island to find her?

 ~***~

Expecting his mother to be alone, Oliver halted outside the doorway to her study when he heard a much deeper male voice. The British accent immediately gave him away: Walter Steele. Oliver couldn’t say he was surprised. His mother hadn’t come out and said it, but something was going on between her and Walter. He saw the way she looked at him and detected the tenderness in her tone when she said his name. A part of him felt irked that she was taking interest in another man in his father’s absence; it was just barely over a year. But then Thea’s words popped back into his head, and he understood why his mother may have sought comfort during tragedy from someone who’d been a trustworthy and loyal friend all these years.

(Photo via Fusion Movies)

Oliver was about to turn around, deciding to ask his mother about Thea’s upcoming birthday later, when he heard his name.

For a moment, Oliver thought they’d spotted him. He was about to reply and step through the doorway when his mother’s hushed voice made him halt. 

“No matter what the doctor says, I know my son. Something is wrong. It feels like he’s not even happy to be home. Like his body is here but his head is elsewhere.”

Oliver frowned. His mother wasn’t wrong, but he thought he’d at least been hiding his true feelings better since Thea had spoken with him.

“Of course he is glad to be home,” Walter reassured her. “Moira, Oliver has been through a harrowing experience. His being withdrawn is to be expected. Besides, I saw the papers. He and Tommy went to a club last night. They looked to be having a good time.”

“He didn’t stay long. He left early and wound up at the Starling City Bay. He was there for hours until he came home.”

“How do you know that?”

Oliver wanted an answer too. Was his mother keeping tabs on him? 

Sounding chagrined, Moira admitted, “I hired someone to follow him.”

“Moira,” Walter tsked. 

“I needed to know, Walter. I’m worried about him.”

 “Visiting the bay doesn’t seem so bad.”

“He barely eats or sleeps. He spends more time with his archery coach than he does Tommy or his other friends. I don’t think he’s even been on one date since he’s returned—”

“Archery,” Walter interjected. “What sparked his interest in that?”

“He mentioned something about hunting his own food on the island, though I don’t understand why he would need to retain that skill now. Not to mention the questions he was asking the head of marine research in Applied Sciences.”

 “Moira, I didn’t tell you about his meetings with Dr. Fielding to worry you. Oliver taking an interest in QC is a good thing.”

“Walter, I spoke with Dr. Fielding. He said Oliver was asking questions about strange creatures…mutated sharks or something to that effect. Don’t you find that odd?” Oliver peeked around the corner and saw his mother’s concerned expression. 

Oliver bristled. Dr. Fielding had sworn that whatever they discussed would remain in the strictest confidence. Now his mother knew all about Oliver’s private research project. 

“He was lost at sea, Moira. Maybe he was curious—”

“Perhaps he saw something when the Gambit went down.”

“Saw what?”

Moira hesitated. Then: “I haven’t told anyone about this, but I hired a special team to investigate the Gambit’s sinking—after the authorities decided to give up the search. They found it and…”

 “And?” Walter prompted, listening intently. Oliver also leaned in closer.

 “They said it looked as if the ship had been torn apart. Not by natural causes but…they found strange bite marks.” She shook her head, as if she couldn’t believe what she was saying herself. “I’ve asked Dr. Fielding to examine it.”

 “It couldn’t hurt to look into the matter.”

 “I fear what Oliver has endured may be even worse than we thought. I worry he might do something if he doesn’t get help. I know this psychiatrist—” 

Oliver reared back, having heard enough. No matter what his mother said, he wouldn’t go to a shrink. One mention of King Shark and his mermaid girlfriend would either land him in a straight jacket or cause his mother to extend her investigation into the Gambit’s demise. He had to find another way to appease his mother and move forward with his plans. Time was running out.

~***~

Laurel was looking for him. Ever since he’d returned home, Oliver’s ex-girlfriend made it no secret she still had feelings for him. Laurel believed his return was their second chance, and Oliver didn’t have the energy or patience to convince her otherwise. He couldn’t deal with the wounded look of disappointment again. Instead, he stayed in the shadows sipping his drink, observing the people around him.Tommy’s parties always drew a large crowd. Even Starling’s elite couldn’t pass up free booze, food, and the occasional party drug. 

Not long ago, Oliver would’ve been among them—drinking and hooking up with a pretty face that could distract him for the evening. As an outside observer now, he wondered how he could’ve ever found this lifestyle fulfilling. Tommy, not to anyone’s surprise, was loving every second of the attention. He stood by the bar talking to Joanna. She was beautiful: tall and dark-skinned, with legs for days. She also happened to be a friend of Laurel’s. 

While Oliver was glad to see Tommy enjoying himself, he would much rather be at home continuing his research. Reports had surfaced of missing fishermen not far from where the Gambit sank. Most of Oliver’s spare time was devoted to figuring out a way to get back on the water and destroy that mutant monster. 

He thought back to his conversation with the marine biologist at QC, and his advice about dealing with marine predators, when something moved out of the corner of his eye. Oliver bristled, sensing a large, hulking presence. His head swiveled, and he saw that it was a tall, muscular man in a suit. Some of the tension left his body when he realized it was only a member of Tommy’s security. With so many people in attendance and the unlimited supply of booze, his friend couldn’t be too careful about certain guests getting out of hand.

(Gif via The Arcade)

The man’s attention was trained on a guy several feet away. Oliver recognized the shaggy brown hair and smug smirk. It was Max Fuller—his long-time rival. The two had never gotten along—and that was before Oliver had slept with his fiancee during their rehearsal dinner. Not his finest moment, but Max was no saint either; he pretended to be better than everyone else—the creep.

“Good to keep an eye on that one,” Oliver told the security guard. “He’s trouble.” The recent rumor was Max wanted to create a nightclub—with much of his investment money originating from his lucrative side dealing of drugs. 

“Thanks for the tip,” came a gruff response. “Although I’ve heard the same about you, Mr. Queen.” His dark eyes spared him a glance before surveying the room once more. 

Oliver blinked in surprise. It was rare that someone was so blunt with him. “No need to worry about me tonight.”

“I figured as much when I saw you standing in the dark corner by yourself.” 

“I’m fine,” Oliver answered, perhaps too emphatically.

The man smirked, though not with derision. His brown eyes looked almost sympathetic. “I said the same thing when I got out of the service. It takes time to feel like yourself again—if you ever do.” 

“You were in the military?”

He nodded. “The Navy.” 

“Navy,” Oliver repeated, his interest sparked. “You were a…?”

“Navy Seal,” he proudly answered.

“How did you end up here?”

“I’ve been asking myself the same question.”

“If a better opportunity came along, something that actually pertains to your skills, would you be open to it?” 

“Depends on what it is.” The man wasn’t looking at him, but Oliver could tell he’d caught his attention. 

“It doesn’t involve chaperoning a bunch of drunken trust fund kids. It’s much more important than that, and dangerous.”

The man turned toward him, scrutinizing him. Oliver must’ve passed his inspection because he said, “I’m all ears.” He held out his hand. “John Diggle.”

 “Nice to meet you, John. I’m Oliver Queen.”

~***~

Dig—as John preferred to be called—held a fry halfway to his mouth and paused. “Have I seen what?”

Oliver repeated his question. “Any anomalies in the water?”

During Tommy’s party, Oliver and Dig had planned to meet the following day to discuss Oliver’s proposal. They decided on Big Belly Burger, which wasn’t too far from John’s apartment in The Glades. It was less likely someone would recognize Oliver and, also, Dig’s sister-in-law worked there as a waitress.

They’d ordered lunch and made small talk at first—discussing their backgrounds as they waited. Hearing about John’s time in the service, Oliver couldn’t help but feel guilty for the time he pissed away since high school—partying and getting in trouble instead of using his money and celebrity to make a difference. But everything was different now.

“Anomalies like what?”

“Weird, unexplained sonar findings. Possible abnormally sized creatures…” he trailed off, taking in Dig’s perplexed expression.

“Not really,” Dig replied. “Have you?” It came off like a sarcastic comeback, but his eyes were probing.

Oliver took a sip of his shake, buying himself time to work up the nerve to say, “It wasn’t a storm that sank the Gambit that night.” When Dig remained silent, Oliver continued, “There was something in the water.” He took a steadying breath. “A shark.”

“A shark,” Dig repeated, skeptical. 

Oliver nodded.

“What, like Jaws? Even if there was a large shark, a yacht that size—” 

“It was gigantic and it…it had hands. It wasn’t normal.” Oliver added in a rush, “I know what I saw. It tried to get me on the island too.”

“If that’s true, then how did you manage to get away from it in the first place?” 

“A guardian angel.” His heart ached at the mention of Felicity. Oliver pressed on. “Look up news reports in the area. More ships have gone down and fishermen are missing.”

“Look, Oliver, I’ve been through trauma. Sometimes the mind can play tricks—”

“The threat is real,” Oliver insisted, not backing down.

“Say I believe you”—the frown on Dig’s face said otherwise—“what do you want from me?”

“I can’t let that thing continue terrorizing everyone. I want to put a team together to take that thing out once and for all. That’s where you come in. You’ve got the training and connections.”

“If you’re so concerned and sure of what you saw, why not go to the authorities?” 

“Because they’ll probably assume I’m crazier than you think right now. And there is something else in the water…something just as rare but worth protecting.”

(Gif via Gifer.com)

Dig sat with his hands folded, contemplating.

“Whether you believe me or not, I’m willing to pay top dollar for your expertise. Think about it and let me know.” Oliver stood and threw money on the table to cover the bill. “If we’re going to do this, we can’t wait much longer.”

~***~

His knuckles turning white, Oliver gripped the railing of the boat. He inhaled the crisp, salty air as his eyes frantically scanned the surface of the ocean. The water appeared calm for now, but Oliver knew it was simply a cover for the danger that lurked in its depths. 

He still couldn’t believe that he was back on the water—and on a military vessel, no less. Dig had accepted his offer, though his belief in his story was tenuous. He’d called on a former colleague from the Navy, Lyla Michaels. She was no longer in the military but still did contract work for another government organization. The ship was named the Amazo, owned by some group called ARGUS, but Oliver had never heard of that organization before; Dig said that was the point. 

Besides the fact that he was hunting down a giant killer shark and searching for his mermaid girlfriend, it was nerve wracking to be back at sea. His mother would freak if she knew he was there and not on a guys’ weekend with Tommy. Oliver barely slept on the journey over. Every time he closed his eyes, his mind would take him back to that terrible night he lost his father. He prayed this voyage wouldn’t be a repeat. He’d done everything he could to prepare this time around—including getting a much larger boat.

(Image via YouTube video by The Govenor)

The crew Dig and Lyla had put together were also former military. It consisted of four men and two women. They didn’t know the details of the threat they sought before boarding but were aware this mission was highly dangerous. Dig waited to brief them once the ship arrived at the proper coordinates. According to Dig, they didn’t care what Oliver thought he saw. As long as they were getting a fat paycheck, they’d go along with anything.

They’d set up the industrial-sized reel and line. Besides chumming the water, they attached a large slab of raw meat to a giant hook and tossed it out the back of the boat. 

The first couple of days that passed drew only regular sharks that hunted in these waters, and nothing out of the ordinary showed up on the sonar. Until day three. 

“Whatever it is, it’s big and moving fast,” said Helena, the female technician. “And it’s headed straight for us.”

“Arm yourselves,” Oliver advised.

 “We haven’t determined the extent of the threat,” said Lyla. “It could be an enemy sub for all we know.”

“It’s got the bait,” shouted Lawton, nicknamed Deadshot, as he engaged the mechanical reel. It was pulling in the line, though not without difficulty. 

“It’s the shark. If we’re not careful, he’ll kill everyone on this ship. Just like what happened to my father and the others the first time.”

“This vessel has faced much worse. We can handle Jaws,” she replied. 

Oliver prayed once again that Felicity was far away from what was about to go down. But his prayer was uttered too late; his eyes caught a streak of pink beneath the surface. For a second, he wondered if it was just his imagination. But then Lyla cocked her gun. 

“There’s something else in the water.”

“No, don’t shoot. That’s not it,” Oliver exclaimed. He leaned over the edge, trying to track the movement, but Felicity had already gone under. 

The end of the line surfaced. To their shock, the slab of meat was left untouched. 

“Where’d he go?” Slade questioned. 

“Oliver, get away from the edge,” Dig warned.

Helena’s voice crackled on Lyla’s radio. “He’s here! He’s right next to the boat!”

It happened so fast, they barely had a chance to react. King Shark sprang out of the water, his giant hands reaching out. Dig spun around, sprinting off the bridge, and dove back onto the deck of the ship just before the bridge ripped away. The boat tilted forward and then swung violently back upright. They were all swept off their feet. 

“Son of a bitch,” Dig hollered, trying to right himself.

The shouting started when King Shark’s large fin surfaced. It tore through the water, parting it in giant waves as he circled the boat.

“Fire!” Lyla ordered.

(Image via @dailyflarrowgifs)

Bullets rained down into the water, but did little to stop the creature from ramming the boat once more. 

Oliver grabbed his bow and readied an arrow.

“You know how to use that thing?” Dig asked.

“I made sure of it.” He knew guns wouldn’t work on King Shark, and it seemed all of those endless hours spent practicing his archery were about to pay off. Only a specially made arrow, courtesy of QC’s best manufacturer, or harpoon could inflict the damage needed to take down the mutant creature.

To Oliver’s surprise, he’d picked up on the skill quickly and had become an excellent shot. Yao Fei, his instructor, said Oliver was one of his most gifted pupils.

“Aim for the areas we talked about,” Dig reminded him.

Eyes, gills, nose, Oliver repeated to himself.

“He’s under the goddamn boat,” Slade cursed, dropping his gun and pulling out a blade. “When he comes back up, I’ll make sushi out of him.”

(Image via Comic Vine)

A boom sounded from the hull, sending a shudder through the ship. Seconds later, it happened again.

“He’s trying to punch through the hull,” Lyla realized.

“Shock him,” Dig ordered.

 “What?” Oliver questioned.

 Lyla gave the order to Helena as Dig explained, “This boat has the ability to send out a shock of electricity. It’ll get him away from the boat.”

 Felicity.

“You can’t send out shock waves into the water. The local sea life—”

“It’ll be contained to the immediate area. It’s mostly used if we’re being illegally boarded or dealing with a submarine at close range. It’ll probably work better than our guns—at least until we can get a clean shot.”

Oliver shouted when he saw the lines of yellow streak through the water around the boat. Suddenly, the pounding stopped.

“He’s retreating,” Helena said.

Two more of the crew members reported from down below. King Shark hadn’t broken through the metal, but he’d significantly dented it.

“Helena, get ready for when he comes back and turn up the voltage.”

“No,�� Oliver argued. “You’ll kill the other sea life too.”

“It’s our best weapon against him,” Lyla explained. “If he does any more damage to the boat, he could sink us.” Before he could argue, she added, “With all due respect, Mr. Queen, you hired us for this job and we’re going to get it done.”

Oliver looked to Dig. “It’s our best bet right now,” he said, siding with Lyla.

Felicity had been close by. Oliver had seen her. She might not have been shocked the first time but if she was still swimming around the area, she’d be hurt for sure. Dead fish were already floating to the top of the water, and a wave of guilt crashed over him. He had to do something.

While Dig and Lyla gathered the group to re-strategize, Oliver discretely made his way over to the stern. The problem was they couldn’t get a clean shot of King Shark. Although the boat was large enough where he couldn’t easily destroy it, it also served as an advantage for shielding him. The only way to get a clear, direct hit would be to get as close as possible. 

Making a split-second decision, Oliver quietly released one of the two jet skis stored in the back. Listening over the comms, he learned that King Shark wasn’t far off but conveniently out of range for the shock to work. They hadn’t injured him, but they sure had pissed him off. 

The cache of weapons was also at the back of the boat. Oliver loaded up on more arrows and collected anything else he thought he’d need before mounting the sleek black jet ski, now in the water. It looked like a mini stealth tank with its giant rims and panel of buttons. Oliver knew the basics, having been on jet skis for multiple vacations during his young life. This one also had a stretcher attached to the back, which he assumed was used for rescues. Oliver did a quick study and then fired up the engine; he heard shouts behind him as he sped away in the opposite direction. 

Oliver went as fast as he could in an attempt to put some distance between himself and the boat. All the while, the tiny voice in the back of his mind called him crazy and every other unflattering name in the book. He couldn’t believe he’d done something so reckless, and yet he knew it was necessary. After a few minutes, Oliver glanced over his shoulder. He did a double take when he spotted another jet ski closing in. It was Dig. 

Knowing he couldn’t outrun Dig forever, Oliver went a little further out before cutting the engine. Dig was furious. If looks could kill, Oliver knew he’d already be reduced to chum in the water. 

 Finally, Dig was beside him. “Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

 “Look, I know you’re pissed but—”

 “You hired me to protect you and then you go traipsing off into unknown waters with a mutant predator lurking around. What the hell is wrong with you?”

 “You can’t shock the water.”

 “Not now that you’re in it. Your jet ski will be disabled.”

 “I know. That’s why I did it—to stop you. I told you King Shark isn’t the only inhabitant of these waters. You could hurt innocent creatures.”

 “If you’re worried about Flipper—”

 A splash caught both their attention. Then he heard it: “Oliver.” Goose bumps broke out on his skin as her soft, melodic voice washed over him.

 “Felicity,” he murmured.

The duo whipped around to see her floating toward their jet skis. She pulled herself onto the stretcher, revealing her slim torso and glorious pink tail. Oliver scrambled to face her and instinctively reached out. He crouched down and pulled her into a fierce embrace—not caring she was soaking his clothes. Their lips naturally sought each other—meeting in an even more passionate kiss. She tasted of salt and Felicity, and he held her tighter. 

“As soon as I saw the military boat, I knew it was you.”

“You left me.”

“No. You were rescued. It was time.” She stroked his cheek. 

“You promised you’d come. I waited.” 

“I wanted to. So badly. But I couldn’t until we got rid of King Shark.” Her brilliant blue eyes were pleading. “Please understand. I’ve missed you so much, Oliver. Not a day has gone by that my heart hasn’t ached to return to you.”

“I missed you too, Angelfish. I couldn’t sit back and do nothing. I need you to be safe.” His eyes roamed her beautiful face, taking in every detail of her blushing cheeks and perfect, parted mouth.

(Original gif via @fangirlishsite)

“Your hair is so short.” She smiled. “You look even more handsome than I remember.” 

He cupped her cheek and grazed her lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She gasped, but not from the kiss. He followed her gaze.

Oliver had forgotten about Dig, whose wide-eyed stare and slack-jawed expression revealed his utter shock. His lips moved but nothing came out. He just kept glancing between Felicity and her tail.

“Is your friend all right?” Felicity whispered.

(Gif via @dailyflarrowgifs)

“Dig, this is Felicity. She’s the one who saved me from King Shark when the Gambit went down. Felicity, this is John Diggle. He’s my bodyguard and has agreed to help me take out King Shark.”

“It’s nice to meet you, John,” she greeted him.

“Nice to mermaid—m-meet you,” Dig stuttered. 

Felicity gave Oliver a concerned look. He replied, “I trust Dig. He won’t say anything.” He shot Dig a stern look of his own to make his point. “He’s here to help.”

“Thank you—the both of you. I know I said this was a mer problem, but we really need all the help we can get. My village has allied with a few others to take out King Shark. We have a special poison that I concocted, but our weapons are no match for him. They can’t penetrate his skin. When I saw your ship, I knew I had a chance to lure him toward it.”

“You used yourself as bait?” Oliver replied, the disapproval heavy in his voice.

“It’s no different than your plan. I can’t just sit by and let him terrorize my home any longer. Besides, I had some help from a friend. He’s the fastest swimmer in these waters.”

“Do you have the poison with you?” Dig questioned, finally snapping out of his stupor.

“Yes.” Oliver hadn’t noticed it before, but Felicity had what looked like a netting purse tied around her waist. She reached inside and pulled out a vial. 

“If we lace a harpoon gun with it and have a direct shot—”

“Then we could kill King Shark,” Oliver finished. 

“Exactly.”

“You can’t get this on your skin. It’s extremely potent,” Felicity warned.

“We’ll be careful,” Oliver assured her and looked to Dig. He nodded back. “Let’s get to work.”

~***~

Oliver and Dig sat on their jet skis, bobbing up and down atop the choppy water, waiting. Before carefully lacing their weapons with Felicity’s concoction, they’d traveled farther away from the Amazo. Lyla and the others would surely be searching for them, and they couldn’t chance them showing up and thwarting their plan. Thankfully, the jet skis had stealth capability.

“You ready for this?” Dig questioned Oliver. The sun was setting in the sky, casting pink and orange hues across the horizon. They had to act before darkness set, or else they’d be even more vulnerable.

Felicity had gone back into the water to relay the plan to the others. When it was time, she sprang up from the water and waved her hand in signal before disappearing again. Oliver forced himself to stay focused, as his mind wanted to wander and marvel at her beautiful form.

“I’m sorry I doubted you,” Dig murmured his apology several minutes later.

“I get why you’d be skeptical,” Oliver said in acceptance. “You can make up for it by helping me kill this son of a bitch.”

With the binoculars trained to his eyes, Dig said, “He’s coming. Get ready.”

Oliver squinted, trying to see into the distance. Something red flashed by beneath the water. Trailing behind was a giant fin slicing through the surface.

“Come and get it, you bastard,” he muttered.

“Time to make shark soup,” Dig declared and revved the engine on his jet ski.

The pair took off speeding, zigzagging this way and that with the red underwater blur so as not to give King Shark an easy target. Finally, Dig swirled around and raised his harpoon gun. King Shark was coming straight for him. Just before Dig was able to pull the trigger, the mutant monster disappeared under the water.

Dig cursed, frantically searching for his target. Oliver also had his bow and arrow ready, but he was just as blind. He whipped around upon hearing a splash behind him. He just barely stopped himself from releasing the arrow at the sight of Felicity. She yanked herself up onto the stretcher in the back.

“He’s hunting from below. You have to move. NOW!” she shouted.

Dig hesitated, wary of dropping his defensive stance. He’d just begun to lower his weapon when a huge set of jaws engulfed the underside of his jet ski.

“Dig!” Oliver exclaimed, watching in horror as his bodyguard tore off the cuff from his jet ski and dove into the water to escape certain death. King Shark’s mouth closed around the vehicle, chomping it in half. Sparks flew.

“Get out of here,” Felicity ordered.

“I can’t leave Dig,” Oliver replied.

“My friend has him. He’ll keep him safe.”

Before Oliver could object, Dig was whisked away under the water—nothing but his harpoon gun left floating behind. Felicity extended her tail and managed to slide it closer. She took hold of the gun and shouted for Oliver to go. He did as she instructed, speeding them away from the wreckage that was Dig’s jet ski.

“He’s following us,” Felicity said.

“What should I do?”

“Keep going. There is a rock formation up ahead.”

“Do you know how to use that thing?” he replied, referencing the gun in her hand.

“Aim and shoot, right?”

He smirked. “Right.”

The ride was rough as they sped above the water, bouncing up and down from the waves.

“You okay back there?”

“Yes, but hurry! He’s gaining on us!” She yelped as she was almost tossed aside from a rather large wave.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, keep going!”

The rock formation Felicity spoke of finally came into sight.

(Photo [which has been cropped and edited] by 12019 via Pixabay)

It wasn’t wide, but it was high. Oliver pulled right up next to it. He retracted his bow and tossed it in his quiver over his shoulder and reached for Felicity. The only way to grab her and climb was to sling her over his shoulder.

“I feel like the catch of the day,” she jokingly lamented.

Oliver couldn’t help but chuckle. Only Felicity could bring a smile to his face during a time of crisis. His muscles strained to climb the rough terrain. One false move and they’d go tumbling down. King Shark watched them and circled—probably hoping they’d slip and fall right into his eager mouth.

They reached the top, and Oliver set Felicity down. Back to back, they surveyed the threat below. King Shark kept springing out of the water and circling, attempting to find a way to get at them.

Out of the corner of his eye, Oliver noticed Felicity’s tail had transformed into legs. She stood up with her gun, mimicking his stance and movements to track King Shark. It was by far the sexiest thing he’d ever seen, he thought, before scolding himself to refocus.

When King Shark sprang out of the water once more, Felicity took her shot. She missed his body but did hit his tail. The harpoon sailed clear through, and he thrashed about in pain.

“So close,” she muttered.

“He’s wounded at least. Will the poison start working?”

“It should weaken him somewhat, but he needs a much stronger dose for his size.”

They scanned the water. Oliver had expected King Shark to keep thrashing and jumping out at them, but their surroundings had become oddly calm.

“Maybe it did work after all,” Felicity murmured.

“Maybe…” Something still didn’t feel right.

Suddenly, King Shark sprang out of the water. But instead of diving back under, his giant arms and webbed hands clung to the rock. The impact startled them as the ground beneath their feet shook. Felicity screamed as she lost her balance and toppled over the side. Oliver shouted her name and dove to catch her. He ignored the sharp pain as the hard, jagged surface scraped his skin. He caught Felicity’s arm before she slid all the way down.

Tears filled her eyes as she watched King Shark slowly but surely dragging his body up the side of the formation. His movements were somewhat sluggish, leading Oliver to believe that the poison was having an effect. It wouldn’t be long before he reached Felicity, though.

“Oliver,” she cried.

“I got you. I got you, baby,” he reassured her.

“Oliver, you have to shoot him! Shoot him now!”

Oliver had the perfect shot now that King Shark was exposed and vulnerable. But when he’d dove to grab Felicity, his quiver had been tossed aside. In order to grab it, he’d need to let go of her first.

Felicity seemed to come to the same conclusion, and a solemn yet resigned expression formed on her face. “Oliver, you have to let me go.”

He shook his head vigorously. “No.” He tried pulling her up, but a sharp pain in his arm prevented it. It felt like he’d torn something inside.

“You have to. It’s the only way. It’s more than just my life on the line.”

Oliver clutched her tighter. “You’re the only one that matters.”  

“Oliver, please…”

King Shark was inches from Felicity. Soon, she’d be in his clutches. Calling forth every last bit of strength he had, Oliver heaved her up and over with a painful grunt. He rolled over to grab his quiver and pressed the button to expand his bow. He shouted from a mix of strain, pain, and determination as he whipped around, coming face to face with King Shark.

(Gif via gify.com)

Oliver stared into the monster’s cold, dark eyes and deadly grin before pointing the arrow straight at it and releasing it. It pierced his eye and blood sprayed out. King Shark jerked backward, losing his hold. His large, lifeless body hit the water with a gigantic splash, soaking them.

“You did it,” Felicity said in awe.

Oliver turned to her, noticing her tail had reappeared. “We did it.”

“You saved me.” Her eyes were beaming. “Thank you.”

“Always.” He drew her into his arms, where she stayed for long minutes. “Call us even,” he whispered against her ear.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They didn’t pull apart until another loud splash interrupted the moment. They looked down to see the red blur and then a soaking wet Dig on the rocks. He coughed and then heaved.

“Not everyone can handle Barry’s speed,” Felicity said sympathetically.

“You’ll have to thank him for me.”

“He’s right there if you want to do it.”

For having such speed, Oliver expected Barry to be a large, buff merman. But he was actually quite sleek and skinny--which probably made more sense since he could glide through the water so easily--with a youthful face.

Oliver waved his thanks, and Barry waved back. The merman looked to Felicity expectantly, who’d gone quiet.

“Do you need time to say goodbye?” Oliver asked.

“Yes.”

“I’ll wait then.”

She shook her head. “I’m not saying goodbye to him.”

The sadness in her eyes made Oliver’s heart sink. “No. Not again. You can’t expect me to leave here without you.”

“I have to stay.”

Hurt and exasperated, Oliver replied, “Felicity, if you don’t want to join me on land, then just say it—”

“No, I do. So badly,” she interrupted. “I just…this is my home, Oliver. My family and friends are here. I can’t just up and leave them, not without making sure they’re all right after this. Please understand.”

When Felicity put it like that, he could see her point. Not to mention the crazy story he’d have to make up to explain her sudden appearance to the others. But it didn’t lessen his disappointment. “Of course,” Oliver muttered.

Barry made a signal, and she nodded. “Your ship is headed this way.”

“Then you better go before they find you.”

Felicity stroked the angles of his face, as if committing them to memory. She leaned in for a kiss and lingered there. “I’ll be with you soon, my love.”

“I’ll never stop waiting for you.”

Felicity smiled. And with a splash, she was gone.

(Gif via WiffleGif)

~***~

Despite the chill in his bones, Oliver sat on the beach by the bay as he did every night. He watched the tide, searching for any dark shapes or figures. He’d spotted quite a few seals this past month. Once the wonder of their presence wore off, he fell into an even deeper despair. Felicity promised she would find him, and he believed her. Oliver just wished it’d be sooner rather than later. He missed her so much it hurt.

After another hour, with his teeth chattering, Oliver stood up and dusted the sand off of his pants. His mother would probably have a fit if she knew he’d wore his good tux for tonight’s benefit to the beach. At least with Dig on staff as is bodyguard and driver, he didn’t have to worry about his mother spying on him anymore. Dig had kept his word and didn’t tell anyone about what he’d seen. In Felicity’s absence, he’d thankfully made a friend he could trust.

Oliver turned to leave when movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention. Something had washed up from the water. Oliver was ready to dismiss it, like all the other times, when he noticed its shape. The creature was small and curved.

Oliver watched, fascinated, as it arched its back. In the silvery moonlight, its long tail split in two, forming a pair of legs.

(Original image via annebuy.com)

“Felicity,” he murmured.

As if she’d heard him, the shadowed figure stood. Oliver watched, entranced, as the moonlight from the water’s surface glowed on her skin. His mind must be playing tricks on him again—as he’d imagined a moment like this so many times before. Each time Felicity would approach him in the same way, like she was walking on water.

(Image via El Brillo Del Mar)

Finally, she stood before him—bare, with her beautiful body on full display.

It wasn’t until her fingers grazed his skin that he came to his senses. “You’re here.”

“I told you I’d return to you.” She rested her hand over his heart. “I’m home now, my love.”

(Gif via @olicitygifs)

Wrapping her up in his embrace, Oliver closed his eyes and breathed her in. “Yes, you are,” he replied, and kissed her.

(Gif via @whoeveryoulovethemost)

The end.

[glimmeringtwilight]

Moth to a Flame

(This is almost as long as the first one I wrote, but this is the actual correct scene, with my OC written proper instead of OOC like my phat dumb ass had originally written. Anyway, I’ll post the other one if anyone’s interested in reading it lol. Fingers crossed I can crunch through at least one RQ tonight).

 You weren’t supposed to be here.

 Alarms were screaming in your ears as you lay on the ground, keeping low to stop yourself from inhaling so much smoke. Already your eyes were stinging and tearing up, your throat burning from the fumes.

 The ceiling was covered, obscured by a sea of billowing black smoke. Part of you wondered if you should give up, succumb to the smoke before the flames reach you and you die a worse death.

 This was a mistake. Playing hero, trying to take down the monster that had been setting fires to homes and businesses across the city.

 It was stupid, really. Going into this, you felt like you were an actual hero. Chasing the arsonist into the building, sword at the ready.

 Already you could hear the sirens approaching the building. So, it was either death or arrest… You knew, going into this, what awaited you, though. After getting rejected by the academy, you accepted the life of a vigilante. The academy was rife with corruption, anyway; you wouldn’t have gotten far even if you’d decided to play fair.

 You’re interrupted from your thoughts by the sound of the door to the room you were in opening. Pulling your shirt over your nose, you raised yourself up slightly from the ground, peering out from behind the desks you’d been lying behind.

 In the doorway the arsonist stood, a hideous mask in the visage of the moth obscuring their face. They wore a cloak to match, patterned like moth wings, which dragged along the floor as they walked. How it hadn’t caught on fire yet was beyond you, but you figured the pyromaniac might have thought that through and used flame-retardant fabric.

 The mask tipped in your direction, and you ducked back behind the desks, hoping they hadn’t seen you through the glare of the flames.

 You hear their shoes crunch against the smoldering rubble on the floor, and you wonder how the smoke hadn’t gotten to them yet—gas mask, perhaps?

 They walk steadily past the desks you were hiding behind, deeper into the room. You grip the handle of your sword tight enough to turn your knuckles white, watching them as they leisurely walk through the smoke and the ruin.

 You watch as they step into the next room without ever looking back, and though part of you can’t shake the feeling that they’re leading you into a trap, you get up to follow.

 When you step into the next room, which has yet to be devastated by flames(you wish you knew that earlier, you would have waited in here to ambush that maniac), you don’t see any sign of them. You turn your gaze to the ceiling beams, searching for any signs of them.

 Nothing.

 Steeling yourself, you step further into the room. The door slams shut behind you.

 You turn back and still see no signs of them, but you don’t go back to try the door, feeling as though you’ll be attacked the moment you turn your back to the rest of the room.

 “You know, you and I, we kinda represent every parent’s nightmare.” Your eyes snap back to the rafters, where the voice is coming from. Faintly, you see the moth figure sitting leisurely on one of the ceiling beams, swinging their legs casually.

 “If you’re going to start monologuing, save it. I don’t care.” You snap, straightening from your crouch now that you know they’ve seen you.

 “Oh, I’m not in a monologuing mood today. I was going for playful banter between hero and villain, you know? I’m saving the monologue and tragic backstory for next time.” By now you realize the voice is feminine, though it’s going through some sort of filter to distort it. You wonder, once more, if maybe she is wearing a gas mask, and it’s muffling her voice.

 You snort at her reply, shifting your weight to one leg as you watch her guardedly. Despite not seeing any visible eyeholes on her mask, you get the feeling she’s burning holes into you with her stare, with how sharply her head turns to the movement. It’s eerie, like she’s examining you as a predator would its prey.

 Maybe she is. Too bad this prey carries a knife.

 “There isn’t going to be a next time.” You tell her. She laughs, though the sound is garbled and warped by the mask. It comes out almost sounding like a growl than a laugh.

 ”Oh, really?” She asks, tipping her head to the side. The movement sends a few strands of pink hair spilling out from under her hood. Interesting choice. “What are you going to do, hm? Arrest me?”

 You step a little further into the room, “Nah. I’m going to stab you to death.”

 At your response, she barks out a laugh, tossing her head back and moving to grip the beam so she doesn’t fall off, “Hah! Ha… No wonder the academy rejected you.”

 You bristle at the comment. “What.”

 She raises a hand to the mask, as though she’s clapping a hand over her mouth, “Whoops! Strike a nerve? Sorry. We won’t talk about it anymore, yeah?”

 “No, no,” You wave your hand at her to signal her to continue, “How do you know that?”

 “Lucky guess,” She replied, but it sounded almost like a question. You feel the beginnings of dread welling up in your chest as you stare at her. If she knew that about you, what else did she know?

 You aren’t given much time to dwell on it, as she suddenly shifts, quickly hopping down from the ceiling and landing in a silent crouch. The movement almost reminds you of a cat, practiced and graceful. You adjust your stance back into a defensive one as she straightens up and regards you in silence for a long moment.

 “You didn’t let me finish earlier,” She says, lowly. You brace yourself for an attack, despite her completely relaxed posture. She’s trying to lull you into a false sense of security, you know.

 “Boo hoo.” She laughs, again, and takes a step towards you. You lunge forward with the point of your blade aimed her throat, missing by only inches as she quickly takes a few steps back.

 “I was going to say, ‘We represent parent’s nightmares: you, playing with knives, and I with fire.’” Her head tips to the side again, “Or did your mother never teach you not to play with sharp things?”

 You don’t dignify her needling with a response, just lunge forward again to stab her. Again, she dodges, but this time she sidesteps your attack and slinks behind you. Thin fingers curl loosely around your shoulder and you tense, cursing yourself for letting her get behind you in the first place.

 “Looking forward to the next time,” She rumbles low in your ear, and at the quiet volume her voice is less warped by the mask. She almost has a nice voice, for a monster. “I’ll be sure to come up with a good sob story to tell you.”

 The fingers disappear and you spin around to take a stab at her again, but she’s already gone. You’re left standing alone, in the dark, listening to the wail of the fire alarm and police sirens just outside.

[october31st1981]

Baby, I’m Trying

Originally written for Jily Secret Santa 2016 for the prompt “modern single parent AU.” I realized I never posted this fic to my own blog, so here it is.

She ought to know by now not to try to surprise James.

When they were twelve, she’d jumped out of a cupboard, intent on frightening James to get him back for unraveling the hem of her friend’s already threadbare uniform. He’d been so startled that he’d slammed the cupboard shut and Lily ended up with a bloody nose.

On his eighteenth birthday, she’d made the mistake of trying to throw him a party without telling him. She had half their year assembled in his house when he called to cancel their afternoon plans because his mother was taking him to Belgium.

Over the years, it’s become clear that James is far better at providing surprises than receiving them.

It’s probably foolish of her to think that this time will be different. But she’s just gotten home after studying in France during her summer and fall terms, and the only person that Lily wants to see is James Potter. They wrote letters, certainly, and talked on the phone, but it doesn’t compare to seeing him gaze at her with a warm smile or a smarmy grin from right in front of her face. He’d joked about her meeting someone while in France, but part of her thinks it was true, because she’s never been so eager to come home in her life.

And she’s missed him, missed all her boys, really. So she stands outside James’s and Sirius’s flat, knocking on their door with a grin on her face.

Sirius pulls open the door, wearing what looks like a bib and holding a plush toy in his hands. “Moony, if that’s you, you better have brought nappies—Evans!” His face breaks out into a broad grin.

Careful to avoid the mess on his bib, Lily steps into Sirius’s arms. “I’m back,” she says. “Dare I ask about the nappies?”

The smile on Sirius’s face dims. “Maybe I should let James explain.”

She releases Sirius, stepping past him into the flat. The room looks messier than usual, with an assortment of items she can’t begin to explain scattered on the floor. “Where is he? I know I should’ve called, but I thought it’d be a nice surprise this way.”

“Is that Lupin? Tell him it’s Code Yellow, false alarm,” James’s voice calls as he enters the room.

Lily’s heart speeds up a bit as he comes into view. His hair is longer, and he’s got a smudge of what looks like carrot on his cheek, but he’s still the same. She is so caught up in staring at his face that it takes her a moment to realize that he’s holding something. Someone, in fact. A baby, no more than six months old, clinging to him firmly.

Lily blinks, looking down at the child. She thinks the baby blinks back. “Are you… babysitting?” she asks. She knows Alice and Frank Longbottom had their baby not all that long ago, but it seems a bit odd that they would choose James to mind their son, considering he’s an only child and has probably never held a baby in his life.

“Er, no,” James says awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. He wears an expression not dissimilar to the one he wore in Year 12 when he told he’d accidentally melted his Head Boy badge. “This is Harry. He’s… Well, he’s mine.”

Surprise, Lily thinks, feeling a little light-headed.

“Yours,” she repeats slowly.

“Mine,” he says, nodding. As if pleased by this announcement, the boy in James’s arms reaches out to him, using an impossibly tiny hand to grab at his glasses. James runs a placating hand over the baby’s hair.

Lily can’t stop staring. “You weren’t pregnant when I left.”

Sirius, who hasn’t spoken since James entered the room, scowls and mutters, “Lucy.”

Suddenly, Lily understands. When they’d been in secondary school, James had dated Lucinda Talkalot, whom he knew from his football league. Lily hadn’t liked her. Mary said it was because she’d fancied James something awful back then, but in truth, Lily had doubts about the girl. She wasn’t good at keeping friends, and to James, loyalty was more important than anything. At least, it had been. By the fond look James is giving the baby, Lily thinks that everything else in James’s life might be suddenly outranked.

“You and Lucy…” Lily trails off, looking at James significantly.

“At that Halloween party last year,” he confirms.

Her eyes drift to the baby again. Harry. He has a shock of black hair on top of his head, and his eyes are like James’s, but brighter. Hazel. Still, she feels compelled to ask. “And you’re sure?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“We talked on the phone,” Lily says weakly. She thinks of all the times where he’d hesitated in a conversation, saying he’d explain later. She supposes now is later. “You couldn’t have mentioned a baby?”

Shifting Harry to his other hip, James offers a one-armed shrug. “It seemed like in-person kind of news.”

There’s not much she can say to that. So instead, she asks, “Can I hold him?”

James looks taken aback, but he nods, approaching her slowly. “Mind his hands,” he says, placing the baby in her arms. “He likes to grab.”

And sure enough, as soon as the baby is in her arms, his tiny fists are wrapped up in her long auburn hair. Harry giggles, and Lily can see why James looks at this kid with such affection in his eyes.

Lily gives him her widest smile. “Hi, Harry.”

Over the next few weeks, the story tumbles out of the boys in pieces. How Lucy hadn’t told James about the pregnancy until Harry was already several weeks old. How she’d decided to give him up in the hopes of giving him a better life, but had hesitated at the thought of James, and shown up with the baby at his doorstep. How that day had been the last they’d seen her.

“Are you mad at Lucy?” she asks James one evening as they sit on the floor of his living room. She presses a stuffed lion against Harry’s nose, who garbles delightedly back at her.

James pauses, and then shakes his head. “Not for giving me Harry,” he says quietly. “For not telling me the first place, maybe, but I’d rather have him than not.”

“I suppose I never imagined you’d be a dad this young.” She’s only two months older than James, and she’s barely creeping up on twenty-one.

James looks at Harry. “I always sort of reckoned that when I did have a kid, I’d be married. Something for the long run, y’know.”

Lily can see it. James, in a cottage bustling with children, committed to one person for the rest of his life. He’d be happy like that. “You will be,” she says decidedly. “Just have to adjust the order.”

He raises an eyebrow suggestively. “Are you offering, Evans?”

She pulls Harry into her lap, resting her chin on the top of his head. “Sorry, Potter. My heart already belongs to someone else.”

James sighs wistfully. “Thrown over for a younger man.” He strokes a hand gently on his son’s face. “My fault for making you so handsome.”

“Thank goodness Harry has a father who’ll teach him modesty,” says Remus from the entryway. Sirius’s return from classes is flagged by the arrival of both Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew.

“That’s what you’re for, Moony.” James grins. “When you’re finished that teaching degree, I fully expect you to inform my son about the ways of the world.”

Remus groans. “If I finish this teaching degree,” he mutters. “Vector isn’t pleased about all the class I miss.”

“Cow,” interjects Sirius, pulling a face.

Lily frowns. “You can’t help that you get sick, Remus. She ought to be more understanding.”

Remus shrugs. “She’s big on attendance.”

“Had to drop her last year,” adds Peter, shuddering. “Missed four lectures and she threatened to fail me.”

James nods sympathetically. “After begging to switch to night class so Sirius can watch Harry while I’m at school, last month I had to tell her I was an hour late because Harry threw up on me. Three times.” He glances at Lily. “You sure you want to choose him over me? He’s well-practiced in the art of projectile vomit.”

Lily doubts Harry knows he’s being talked about, but he babbles when his father is looking in his direction. She turns her gaze downward. “Still him. No contest.”

James beams at Harry, or perhaps at the two of them. “Yeah, I’d pick him too.”

When Lily first notices the shift between them, they’re in a park. Harry’s too young to be able to run around, but he loves being outside anyway. Spring has arrived, and he’s growing like the weeds that are starting to make their way out of the ground. He twists and turns in his pram, eagerly trying to take everything in.

James trainers are undone, as always, so Lily is keeping her eyes on Harry as he kneels down to tie them.

An elderly woman passes by and tells Lily, “Your son is adorable.”

Lily blushes. “Oh, he’s—”

“How old is he?” the woman asks.

“Just coming up on eight months,” replies James, standing up.

The lady smiles, eyes crinkling at James’s boy. “That’s a good age. Before you can blink, he’ll be running around and it’ll be all you can do to keep up. Make sure you still make time for each other.”

James seems to realize the woman’s mistake, and he meets Lily’s eye. She thinks he’s going to correct her, but instead he says, “Good advice.”

Good advice rings through Lily’s head for at least two weeks after, and it has her flushing every time she has to look him in the face. She’s not fool enough to pretend what she was feeling when she was in France didn’t mean anything, but things are different now. James has Harry. Harry, the love of his life, who has shaken his world irrevocably. She’s not selfish enough to try to alter the life that he’s only just started to build.

But Sirius sees it. She knows he does. He can be annoyingly perceptive when it comes to things that concern James Potter.

He manages to hold his tongue for two weeks. She is watching Harry with Sirius during James’s maths lecture when he finally says to her, “So, how long’ve you been in love with James?”

Lily wants to say I’m not, but what comes out is, “France.”

Sirius picks Harry up and raises him up in the air. “So, not as long as he’s been in love with you.”

Her heart stutters, and she takes Harry from Sirius and spins him around so she has an excuse to hide her face. “James isn’t… his heart is occupied at the moment.”

Sirius laughs. “You don’t think Prongs has a heart big enough for all of us?”

Lily turns. Harry’s hands are tangled in her hair again, as they usually are these days. “I can’t ask him to make any big changes right now. Harry deserves the whole world.”

“That’s why.” Sirius says, with a smile that’s both sincere and smug. “Harry matters to you, and that matters to him.”

“I’m not going to tell him,” she says firmly. Her heart protests, but it quiets when she looks at Harry, who has burrowed himself in it as deeply as his father. “I’ll do it when he has more time to decide what he wants.”

Sirius won’t tell him either, Lily knows that much. Still, he gives Lily and Harry a lingering glance as they hold onto each other, “He already knows what he wants, Evans. This is it.”

Lily hesitates about what constitutes the right time, but she knows herself enough to be certain she wouldn’t even consider saying something if she weren’t in it for the long haul. Soon, it simply becomes a matter of finding a moment alone.

In the end, Harry is one who changes things once again. When he turns a year old, James decides to throw Harry a spectacular birthday party. There are dozens of balloons, paper stars on every surface of the flat, and a man in star-spangled robes who claims to be a magician (though he never does any tricks). By early evening, Harry is too exhausted to continue, so he is put to bed and the adults decide to open a bottle of wine.

When James is in the kitchen getting a corkscrew, she slips in, hands behind her back.

“I have a surprise for you.”

James grins, turning around. “It’s not another baby, is it?”

“I hope not, or he won’t be very comfortable in this box.” She moves her hands in front of her and hands him a neatly-wrapped gift. “When Petunia and I were little, we used to have a tradition. On our birthdays, we would give our mum a present, since she was the person who gave us life and spent the whole year looking after us. I thought, since Harry’s too young to know how much you do for him, I’d step in for him this year.”

He falters, looking a bit flustered. “Evans…”

Lily looks at James fondly. He still has paper stars in his hair from the party. “You’re a good dad, James. I hope you know that. Harry’s lucky to have you.”

“I’m lucky to have him,” says James, setting down the present. He hesitates for a moment, and then adds, “And you.”

She’s not sure if she steps closer or he does, but there’s less distance between them in the next moment. “I’m lucky that Harry’s in my life too.”

James reaches a hand to cup her cheek. “We’re all very lucky.”

And when he kisses her, Lily can’t help but agree.

[theroyalweisme]

Follow Me (Liam x MC)

Book: Royal Romance

Pairing: Liam x MC (Riley)

Rating: PG 13

Word Count: +2700

Summary: He’s gone to NYC... To find her... to talk to her... But he’s left his Best Friend to run things back home... What could go wrong?

Author’s Note: Part 10 of Hold On

Wow has it ever been a LONG time since I’ve written this. I’m sorry for making you all wait so long… I hope it was worth it! Special thanks to @mfackenthal and @kinkykingliam for listening to me ramble as I wrote this...

Also I’m sorry if I missed you in tags... it’s been so damned long.

Catch up here

Tagging: @youwontlikewherewewillgo @chrstbll @pens-girl-87 @mariawalkerwrites @mrswalkerreynolds @queencatherynerhys @hhiggs @viktoriapetit @topsyturvy-dream @heatherfilliez

Permatags: @mfackenthal @kinkykingliam @enmchoices @writtenbycandy @alwaysthebestchoice @diamond-dreamland @craftytacotrashdream @umccall71 @mitalijoshi @blackcatkita @xxrainbowprincessxx @scarlettedragon @ranishajay @hopefulmoonobject

-Liam’s POV-

The feeling of her hand in mine warmed my soul as I led her out of the bar and down the street towards the water. Bastien fell into step behind us as we continued to walk.

“You brought Bastien with you?” Her voice was soft as the question passed by her soft lips. I felt my heart jump a beat or two at the sound of her.

“Yes…” I cleared my throat, trying to come up with the words to say to her. “I thought it would be best.”

“Of course…” she nodded her gaze looking over the water.

“Riley…” I started leading her towards a secluded bench. Her crystal blue eyes lifted to mine as we sat side by side on the bench. “You just left.”

She pulled her gaze from mine, trying to hide the tears I could see gathering behind them.

“Please, my love,” I soothed, rubbing small circles on the back of her hand with my thumb. “Please don’t run from me here… It’s just me.”

“I… I didn’t mean to run from you, Liam,” she sighed as my fingers lifted her face back to mine. “I… I was drowning there.”

“What do you mean?” My voice trembled. “I didn’t-“

“No… No, Liam,” she interrupted my thoughts vehemently. “Never. It was never you. You were the only thing keeping me grounded.”

“So then… why?”

She pushed all the air out of her lungs as she considered her answer, my heart pounding as I waited for her words.

-Riley’s POV-

“So then… why?” Liam’s words hit me like a ton of bricks… How could I tell him the real reason?

That I was weak… That there was no way I could stay in Cordonia and become its queen. That I needed him to be happy and move on… That my soul shattered even thinking of him with someone else.

I leaned heavily against the park bench as I considered what I would tell him, my mind drifting to a conversation I had so many years ago looking over this same river.

“Daddy…” My voice was tentative as I stared over the water, not wanting to look into my father’s steel grey eyes.

“What’s up, Rye Bread?” My father’s voice enveloped me, not unlike his strong arms. I glanced down at my hands, twisting in my lap nervously.

“How do you know you’re in love?” My words were rushed and half under my breath, my father was forced to lean in to catch what I had said.

“In love?” He croaked, his voice cracking with shock. “Well… at twelve… you shouldn’t be in love… Not until you’re at least thirty…”

“Daddy…” I rolled my eyes at him, seeing a smile crack on his lips.

“I had hoped I wouldn’t need to have this conversation with you for a long time, baby…” he sighed, pulling into a side hug awkwardly.

“I’m not a baby anymore. I’m almost a teenager,” my chin jut out in an air of authority as he chuckled lightly next to me.

“That you are, Rye Bread… that you are,” his eyes took on a wistful quality as he thought about my original question. “You want to know how to know if you’re in love…?”

I nodded easily.

“Should I be worried about a boy?” He looked down at me, half sad… half worried… and a sliver of pride shining through his gaze.

“Gross, Daddy!” I cried pushing against him. “No… I just want to know… so I can be ready for it... when it happens.”

My father paused before nodding, allowing my words to sink into him.

“Okay…” he smiled softly, I could almost see the image of my mother in front of his mind eye. “When the person standing next to you becomes a home more than the four walls around you, you’re in love. When the world stops as soon as they walk through the door… you’re in love. When they’re the first person you want to tell the good news to and the only one you want to console you through bad news… My little, Rye Bread… that’s love.”

“And you have that with, Mom?” My blue eyes shone up at him hopefully.

“She’s my world…” he smiled down at me before placing a kiss on the top of my head. “Not unlike my crazy daughter.”

“Daddy…” I warned trying to hide my smile from him.

“Riley…” Liam called gently to me, his fingers brushing against my cheek. “Why did you leave?”

“I… I had to…” I lifted my eyes to him, trying to take the hurt I knew I had caused him and pull it to myself. “Liam… It was never you. It was…”

I sighed deeply, motioning around me.

“Everything… The palace… The guards… Planning our wedding. It was too much.” His forehead crinkled as he took in my words silently. “I couldn’t breathe…”

He stepped away from me, just a few paces before he turned back to me the hurt shining in his eyes.

“Was I not enough for you?” His deep blue eyes shone with tears causing the lump in my throat to grow even bigger than it was.

“No…” I whispered softly into the wind. “I wasn’t enough…”

Before I knew what was happening Liam knelt in front of me on the cold concrete. He pulled my hands in his, his ocean blue eyes pleading with me as his voice cracked with passion.

“You are always enough, Riley MacEwan,” he insisted. “Riley… When you left…”

He paused clearing his throat from the emotion.

“When I couldn’t find you…” He sighed deeply, I could see him searching for the words to say to me. “I died a thousand deaths that day. I thought so many things I could have never of fathomed before meeting you.”

He pushed a curl off of my face his thumb lingering on my cheek, catching a single tear as it escaped my eye.

“You are my life,” he proclaimed, his own eyes shining with unshed tears. I couldn’t stop myself from sliding off of the bench and into his lap, my lips pressing gently to his as my hands cupped his cheeks. It took a second for the shock of my movements to wear off for him; but as soon as it had his fingers wound themselves deep into my curls, his lips returning my kiss fervently.

“Where are you staying?” He pulled his lips away from me. It took everything in me from following his lips with my own. His eyes danced as he waited for my response.

“On Daniel’s couch...” I flinched out of embarrassment at the thought of not being in my own place already. “I...I didn’t want to be alone...”

“Daniel... he was the man from the bar? The bartender?” His eyes held an essence of sadness as he pulled himself up and onto the bench. My brow furrowed as I scrambled up next to him.

“Yah…” I watched him closely as his gaze shied away from me. “Both Daniel and his wife, Emily, have been amazing about me crashing there.”

His eyes shot up to mine as the realization of what I just said to him sunk in.

“W-wife?” a soft grin played at the corner of his lips as my own lips twitched.

“Mmmhmm…” I held my hand out to him. “And their one-year-old, Henry… He’s such a little card. You’d love him.”

His strong hand curled around mine as I started to walk back towards the crowded streets.

“Just watch your head if he’s holding any Legos…” he chuckled softly with me, our arms swinging gently between us.

“Perhaps we should retire to my hotel, rather than your friends’ apartment?” My teeth pressed into my lower lip as I kept my gaze out in front of me.

“They’d probably appreciate that…” I glanced over at him through my peripheral vision as a grin grew on his plush lips. He pulled my hand up to lips kissing the knuckles gently as we continued down the street, Bastien falling into step behind me.

-Drake’s POV-

This was supposed to be an easy task… Just make sure the country doesn’t fall apart while my best friend, and the fucking King, runs after the love of his life. No problem right? Wrong.

I had been buried in Liam’s study from the moment he shut the door to the SUV. Madeleine hadn’t gone back to Fydelia yet, a surprising blessing, and she had kept me moving forward with the projects that were pressing.

Not that I wanted to be making any of these decisions. But my supposed “best friend” had turned off his phone. Maybe Bastien would answer…

I dialled the familiar numbers on Liam’s desk phone pressing the receiver to my ear as it rang, once… twice… three times… four…

“You have reached…” The message started in Bastien’s clipped tone as I slammed the phone back into its cradle.

“Damnit!” I shouted to the empty study. What the fuck was I doing here? I didn’t have the right to be making decisions for this fucking country! I was just the King’s best friend… Some lowly commoner kid that a prince took pity on when we were younger. My fingers curled around the crystal tumbler as I stared down at the package in front of me.

How the fuck does Liam do this day in and day out? My head was throbbing as I tipped the crystal to my lips savouring the dark amber liquid in the glass before turning back to the garble of words in front of me.

In accordance with Section 6.2 of the Cordonian Tax Reform Bill 27C…

My eyes closed as a soft thud pounded behind them. I pressed my fingers against my temples as shouting started outside of the study door.

“Miss…” The guard posted outside the heavy oak door, Jonah…? Jonathan…? Something like that, cried as it swung open, a petit brunette bursting through the door. “Miss… you cannot…”

“Your Majesty,” the dark-haired woman demanded, her head was still down as she continued to stomp towards the desk, determination oozing from every pore. “I need to speak with you. The paltry amount you’ve provided will bare-“

Her eyes drifted up to mine, warm brown orbs stared back at me from a perfectly heart-shaped face. Woah… my mouth seemed to dry up faster than the Gobi Desert as those whisky coloured eyes stared back at me.

“You’re not…” Her pouty lips pushed out even further as I could see her thought process flit across her face.

“No…” I cleared my throat, taking another drink of my whisky and trying to hide a smirk as I watched her eyes focus on my throat as I swallowed. “I’m not.”

“I…” she stepped back tentatively, wringing her hands in front of her. Those whisky coloured eyes hid from me under thick dark lashes as she mumbled to herself before straightening her back and opening them to stare challenging at me. “I need to speak with King Liam… Immediately.”

I sighed gently, placing the whisky glass aside before clasping my hands together and resting them in front of me on the desk. I fucking told Liam this would happen. My best friend’s words haunted me as I considered how to respond to the tiny dark-haired sprite in front of me. You’ll be fine, Drake… Court isn’t sitting and nothing is happening politically. Just keep people occupied and away from the fact that I’m gone.

“Fucker…” I muttered under my breath.

“Pardon me?” The sprite spoke, my eyes flying back to hers as I realized she had heard my outburst.

“Shit… I’m…” I fumbled over my words, before noticing I’d done it again. “I mean… I didn’t… Aww… damnit.”

I pushed my head back against Liam’s high back chair, my eyes closing as my hands tried to rub the pain from my forehead.

“If I wasn’t sure before…” her voice was light, almost like she was laughing. “I could definitely tell now, that you are most definitely not King Liam.”

I took the chance of glancing up at her to see her eyes sparkling with mischief, her teeth biting into her bottom lip gently. Hadn’t we already had this conversation?

I pushed the chair back gently before moving towards the tiny creature in front of the desk.

“Look, Miss...?” I prompted, having no clue who this girl was.

“Valantez,” her grin grew as she extended her hand for me to shake. “Cynthia Valantez.”

“Miss Valantez,” I nodded shaking her hand, marvelling at how small and soft it was. How could someone this tiny have such a demanding presence? “If you could leave your proposal for additional funding with me I’d be happy to discuss it with King Liam and get back to you with a decision.”

The sharp whisky eyes widened at my request; those teeth finding the plush lower lip again. Fuck... I bet that lip is softer than her hands. Get a grip, you idiot! I forced my thoughts away from the woman in front of me and that lip as red as a Cordonian Ruby.

“I’d much rather discuss the proposal with King Liam in person,” she nodded, almost as if she was convincing herself on her argument.

“Well...” I sighed, moving back to the other side of the desk. “Unfortunately, King Liam is booked solid for the foreseeable future. He is planning his wedding while running a country.”

My grin didn’t quite reach my eyes as my mind moved to the pretty woman with chestnut curls and crystal blue eyes that my best friend was about to call his wife.

“Well...” she shifted awkwardly on her feet. “I don’t have my proposal with me currently... perhaps we could schedule a follow-up meeting?”

I turned to the laptop I had perched on the corner of Liam’s desk, clicking into my calendar app and saw that dinner time tomorrow was my only free slot for the rest of the week. My sigh was heavy as I turned back to the pretty woman in front of me.

“It seems that the only time I have available will be at 6pm tomorrow.”

Her pouty lips formed a shocked “o” shape as her whisky eyes widened at the short turn around time.

“I see...” her mouth twisted and her button nose scrunched as she considered the meeting offer.

“Drake!!” A new voice called out as the heavy door to the study swung open. “Drake, I finally got a hold of Ri-“

Maxwell careened into the study stopping mid-step in front of the tiny woman.

“Oh... I’m sorry...” his lips twitched into a large grin as he glanced between Cynthia and I. “I didn’t realize you had company...”

“Maxwell...” I groaned, rubbing my forehead as the pounding in my head returned. “It’s not company... Miss Valantez is here to meet with Liam.”

“Ooooohhhh...” Maxwell winked. “And with Li-“

His hand clamped over his mouth as I narrowed my eyes at him.

“I mean with Liam so busy right now... you’re meeting with her?”

“Yes, Maxwell,” I sighed as he bowed deeply in front of her.

“Please forgive my interruption, Miss Valantez,” his eyes twinkling as he took her hand and kissed the back of it. I had to suppress a growl as her cheeks pinked lightly at his actions. Where the fuck did that come from?

“No forgiveness is necessary, Mr Beaumont,” she simpered as he finally stood in front of her. “To answer your question, Mr Walker, tomorrow at 6pm would work well. Will this meeting be conducted over dinner or should I eat before I get here?”

Maxwell’s eyes shifted to me, that damned grin growing on his face.

“I will have the kitchen prepare something for us,” I nodded thoughtfully, standing and walking around the desk once more.

“Anything but red meat,” she smiled prettily, holding her hand out once more to me. My large hand engulfed hers. I could feel my cheeks heat at the thought of my rough, calloused fingers brushing her soft skin. “I will see you tomorrow.”

Those whisky eyes smiled at me as the tiny beautiful woman turned on her heel and quickly left the study.

“Well well well...” Maxwell grinned as he sat in the chair in front of Liam’s desk. “This is interesting...”

“Fuck off, Beaumont...” I muttered, sitting back behind the desk and pulling the next pile of paper towards me. “I’ve got shit to do.”

[the-real-viva-la-snowbaz]

He Loves You, Mr. Pitch

A/N: Snowbaz proposal textfic! This is my first new posted thing in a while--hope you enjoy. :) Italics is Baz, normal text is Penelope. 

December 1st, 2019 - 2:15 pm

help

what now?

I’m going to propose to Simon

What do i do

2:17 pm

PENNY I NEED ADVICE

Well I’m sorry you’re a failure at all things romantic, Basil.

But I will help your sorry ass this time, I guess.

Well thanks Bunce.

Oh, no need.

So what ideas have you got?

Uh

Well…

Look. I’m not even sure if he’ll say yes.

What are you talking about. Of course he’ll say yes.

(Actually, I didn’t tell you this, but he’s proposing to YOU on the 24th. So if you want to beat him to it, I suggest you get to work.)

O.o

O.m.g.

[Penny Bunce has left the conversation]

December 5th - 6:05pm

Did you get the links I emailed you?

Yeah. Cute. :3

I know! :D

So. Any you like?

Not particularly.

:P Picky much?

Ha. ha.

It’s just.. I want to do something original and special, and very US. You know? I get it :)

But it did give me a few good ideas.

How does a sleighride proposal sound?

Cheesy.

*sigh* you’re probably right.

Plus, Simon’s terrified of horses.

True again

See? You need me.

No i don’t.

Shhhh

Whatever, Bunce. He’s my boyfriend. I knew all that already.

Well he’s MY best friend, and you apparently need me to remind you of the little details.

Sure.

Blah, blah, concessions. ;)

Shut up

Won’t.

Shall.

Shan’t.

BUNCE. Back to the topic, PLEASE.

Fiiiine.

Why don’t you two do something reminiscent of the night you got together?

You mean with fire and angst and a tear-stained kiss? I don’t think so.

I don’t like to remind him of… well, when he had magick.

You’re right. :/

Not that either, then.

Mhm.

I want to propose on Christmas Eve, actually. But if he’s going to…

You could coordinate it. ;)

How?

Oh.

Before he starts bridging into the proposal, you’ve got to take charge and beat him to it.

Right. That’ll be hard…

You’re better at words than Simon-- more domineering a conversationalist. Really, Baz, it’ll be easier than you think.

Oh, an important detail: do you have a ring?

...uh

I’m still deciding.

Well decide soon.

Do you need advice on that, too? xD

No, Bunce. I can make a jewelry selection without YOU.

:P Alright, Pitch. Your loss.

[Baz Pitch has left the conversation]

December 7th - 8:42 pm

Hey! :) How’s planning?

Ugh.

Ugh?

I’m exhausted, Bunce. Men’s football is no joke.

Aw. Sorry.

It’s not your fault. I’ll live.

I bought the ring this afternoon.

Really? What does it look like? Is it a diamond ring?

Ew, no. That’d look gaudy.

It’s solid gold. Engraved.

O_O Merlin.

I’m not even going to ASK how much that cost.

Then don’t ;)

ROFL, Basilton.

What does it say?

“I choose you”.

Awwwwwwwwwwwww

Glad you approve.

It’s adorable.

Mine matches.

Good. :)

So now you’ve got to ask him.

...yes.

That’s the problem.

Take him on an evening date. Go to the cinema. Ice skate. Eat gingerbread cookies.

...I just might. :)

I want it to be perfect, though. I want to do exactly the right thing, and say everything I should.

It’s not going to happen.

But :/

No buts.

It’s not the proposal that matters. Even if you pulled out a ring on a casual lunch date, he’d say yes.

You think so?

He loves you, Mr. Pitch. No question.

:)

Don’t stress, ok?

Alright.

I should sleep.

Goodnight. :)

Ttyl

December 15th, 2019 - 1:06 am

BUNCE

BUNCE ARE YOU AWAKE???

I am now.

What do u want?

I got a brilliant idea!

At one am? :/

Yeah. Sorry.

What’s your brilliant idea?

I could take him out for that Christmas date you suggested, and we can sit under one of the huge Christmas trees in the city.

Then I’d give him a present. He’ll open it, and it’ll be a scone (from Watford--the kind that he likes), with a ribbon and ring tied around it.

...you know, that’s kinda cute.

Should I do it?

Go for it.

Just let me sleep

Oh yeah. Sorry.

Night bunce.

[Penny Bunce has left the conversation]

December 20th, 2019 - 4:32 pm

Hey, Bunce.

I’m kind of having a freak-out here.

What’s wrong?? O.o

I’m not sure if I can do this.

The proposal?

Baaaaz

Of course you can. You got this. :)

What if he says no.

He won’t. Trust me.

Prove it.

Well, you KNOW how much he loves you. He’s been daydreaming about weddings a lot lately. Talking about how he wants to settle down.

With who, though?

With YOU, genius. Sheesh.

He actually called off his own proposal plan, though

Why?

Because he’s scared YOU’LL say no.

You’re joking.

I’m not.

Why would he be afraid of that?

Because he LOVES you, and a cool rejection would kill him.

How many times must I clarify this for your benefit?

Eternally, Bunce. It’s almost too much for me to believe.

That he loves you?

...yes.

Well… keep trying to believe it. Ok? :)

Fine.

PROPOSE, Baz. Tell him exactly what he means to you. Slide the ring on his finger. Do it.

:) I fucking will.

Good luck.

[Baz Pitch has left the conversation]

December 25th, 2019 - 12:30am

BAZ !!! 

ARE YOU THERE????

WHAT HAPPENED???????

:) I’m here. Just got back to Fiona’s flat.

Simon texted me some garbled screaming, then dropped off. I want details!!!

TELL ME!!!

Ok, ok. Crowley.

So.

I took Simon to his favorite coffeeshop in the Downtown. We got hot chocolates. Then we went to an outdoor ice rink. Snow nearly broke his neck more than once. Then he tried holding onto me, and he didn’t trip as much. It was lovely. And awkward. Just like him.

Finally we made it to the big tree just down the road, in a small park. There were lots of couples and groups scattered about.

I gave him the box, and he ripped it open eagerly. He saw the scone first, I think, because he got that funny gleam in his eyes that ALWAYS has something to do with food. Then his whole expression changed. He froze. I think he saw the ring.

“Don’t talk,” I said, when he started to open his mouth. I took his hand and tried to begin my scripted speech. (I wrote one, you know.) But all of a sudden, I couldn’t recall it.

“Snow…” I said. “Simon. I love you. You matter more to me than anyone or anything in this world.” “When you first told me you wanted to be with me, you informed me that you were a terrible boyfriend. Now… I want to ask if you’ll do me the honor of becoming my terrible husband…”

*wild applause* :) :) :) :)

Omg Baz

Delivered with signature flair.

Not really. I was crying. :P

Aw xD what’d he say??

You know how he is with words.

He didn’t say anything.

He just kissed me. :)

BLEEEEEH

Pda…

Aleister Crowley, Bunce. Give us a break.

Never. :)

So. You are now texting Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch III… Simon Snow’s fiance. xD

Congrats!!! I’m so happy for you guys.

When’s the wedding?

We haven’t actually discussed it yet

But i was thinking sometime in the summer.

*nods* lovely

Bristol beach, maybe?

Perhaps.

Do you want to be in the ceremony?

Sure!! :D

I can’t wait.

I won’t say I told you so… ;)

You just did, Bunce.

Oh well. Hehe.

Where is your lucky groom-to-be anyway?

He said he was going to run up and down the Big Ben a bit before he headed back. xD what a moron.

…. Really?

He was kidding!

...I think.

I don’t think so.

You mean he’s not back yet?

No.

….

...you go pick him up, Bunce.

BAZ. Your turn.

Why me??

You’re his fiance.

You’re his flatmate.

You know? Let’s BOTH go find him.

Last one to the tower is a stinking merwolf.

You’re on.

[Penny Bunce has left the conversation]

[Baz Pitch has left the conversation]

[killaren]

Thanks to You (Peter Parker x Reader)

Summary: Your life is typical, normal; you go to class, see your friends, do your homework. You never expected spider-man to have any reason to interact with you, but when there’s a person tapping against the window of your apartment, you know you have to open it.

Author’s Note: hello all, this is my first peter parker fic and I really hope you like it :) it will be broken into about 5 parts because I wrote 10k words for the whole thing and realized that would be too much to put in one post.

Part 2

  All parts of this fic

Word count: 1,404

Warnings: some bloody stuff

You slumped into your seat across from Peter and Ned, your eyes drearily returning to the calculus notes scattered haphazardly across the table in front of you. Your gaze lingered on reimann sums for a moment before looking up to your friends, who were too busy shoving meat loaf into their mouths and mumbling about the latest Star Wars movie to notice your return from disposing of your lunch. You studied their faces, each lightening up excitedly at the theory the other one recited, though Peter’s eyes featured tired rings around them that Ned’s did not have.

The dark tilt to the skin above his cheeks was not new, but it interested you nonetheless. It had arrived shortly after Peter’s schedule had left, after he’d grown about 3 inches in any direction and a little while after he’d received that too-good-to-be-true internship with Tony Stark. You worried he was being overworked and overused…and something else, you weren’t sure of.

It was those tired eyes that caught you out of their periphery, and the very same that lit up upon their recognition of your return.

"Hey, listen to this-"

"No, Peter-she doesn't care." Ned cut him off.

"You don't know that! She's seen the movie." He replied and Ned looked at you.

"Do you care?" Ned asked and you chuckled, your face turning to your other friend. "I'll hear it. Lay it on me."

Peter launched into something crazy about the old hero from the original Star Wars trilogy and Ned rolled his eyes, cutting in occasionally to insert his opinion. You couldn't follow what either of them were saying but it made you happy to see them both so invested in something.

Tensions between the three of you had been unusually high lately. Perhaps it was the series of canceled hangouts or the inability to make plans, but no matter what it was it had taken a toll on group morale.

The three of you chatted (well, you listened) until the food in front of them was gone, and you took outdoors. It was Friday, and the inevitable "are we hanging out this weekend" conversation and the subsequent nervous stuttering that was supposed to sound like "I have the internship" from Peter came up. You hoped Ned would just assume the two of you would be making other plans instead of asking, but of course he did.

You realized when you got home later that you'd be spending the evening alone; Michelle and Liz were both busy with study groups and club planning, and you didn't even want to consider calling Flash. It was not all bad, though, for you had a new episode of Game of Thrones to drown your loneliness in. You were only a few minutes into watching one of the dragons fly across the screen when you heard a tapping on your window, causing your every bone to shiver. Nobody else was home, and you were very sure you wouldn't be able to handle an intruder alone.

You were shaking as the tapping continued, fear escalating within you as you took timid steps towards the fire escape window and held up your lacrosse stick for defense. You could feel your pulse quickening as you turned the corner, and it only sped up as the source of the tapping came into your view; spider-man, THE spider-man, crouched outside your window!

You ran to the window and lifted it, a little gust of wind blowing into your apartment as spider-man rolled himself inside, his hand clutching his side.

"Hey uh, you got a second?" he mumbled as he flopped onto the ground in front of you. You looked down and realized it was bloody and his suit was torn, his breathing heavy and jagged.

"O-oh my god-you're-and you're here-do you need-oh my god, you need help!" You stuttered, your heart beating a mile a minute.

"I-I'll-you stay here, I'll be right back!" You let out as you racked your brain for the location of the first aid kit.

You tutted into the kitchen and whipped the cabinet doors open, your fingers frantically tracing the wooden ledges for the bright red bloom. You found what you were looking for and yanked it out of the wedge it was tucked into, not noticing the clattering of windex bottles and other cleaning supplies as the plastic hit the tile floors.

You sprinted back into the hall, popping the box open as you ran. As you approached him you dropped to your knees and slid across the floor, your fingers fiddling with the bandages and creams. You silently thanked the managers at the summer camp you'd worked at last year for having you trained in first-aid; you knew you wouldn't be able to call 911 for someone like spider-man.

The many adhesives and wraps littered the space around you when you decided on a thick gauze, which you held up just above the wound.

"C-can you hold this on it? While I prepare the bandage?" You asked, your voice shaking and your words coming out too fast and garbled. You watched part of his mask move as a light chuckle came from him and he reached his hand out.

"Yeah, I can. I'm not dead yet, you know." He said, his voice weak but lighthearted and...familiar, though you had little time to determine why. It's joking nature eased your tension regardless.

He pushed the gauze onto his cut while you put antibiotic on a thick bandage and rested it face up on his thigh.

"Sorry for just barging in, by the way." He said as you cleaned the cut of dried blood and dirt. You did your best to smile at him as you worked, your mind and body too focused on the fact that you were patching up spider-man to process the small talk.

"I-it's no problem, really. I just h-hope you're okay." You bubbled in reply, your eyes looking up his muscled chest to his shoulders and to his masked face. "I can't believe you're really here, in my apartment! Y-you're a superhero."

"Hey, I'm not that special! Besides, at the moment, you're the one that's being the hero." He replied with a chuckle and a little pink hit your cheeks, your heart skipping a beat. He looked around, at the hallway and the walls, then back to your fingers, then to your face.

"So, you, uh, live here, huh?" He said and you raised your eyebrows.

"Yes, I do."

"So you, probably come here often then, yeah?" He asked and you giggled, your face now rather red.

"No way, is Spider-Man hitting on me?" You chirped, a twinge of excitement lacing your words and he let out a nervous laugh that sent you into a brief moment of deja vu.

"Well hey, if I had known my nurse was going to be this cute, I would've come up with a less obvious pick up line."

You finished patching his abdomen and he stood up, patting his side with his hand.

"Wow, you did a pretty good job!" He said, and you grinned as he readjusted the ripped fabric over the white of the bandage. "You really helped me out."

"It's no big deal, you help everyone out every day!" You squeaked and he laughed, taking a step towards you.

"What is the name of my hero for the evening?" He asked and you mumbled your name, dazed by the way the white of his mask squinted and the mouth space twitched as you told him. He repeated it back to you, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear and sending chills up your spine.

He took a step back, his head turning to the window he fell through and back to you.

"I gotta go," he said, his shoulders slumping slightly beneath his red and blue suit.

"You do?" You whispered, snapped out of the trance you'd been in when he'd touched you.

"Y-yeah, bad guys aren't going to fight themselves, you know." He replied, his voice sounding nervous. You nodded and he sat on the windowsill, one leg in the hall and one on the fire escape.

"I'll see you around." He said and you nodded.

"Around, yeah." And with that, he was off.

[strahd-von-asthmavich]

The Dread Lands of Ravenloft - Mod Van Richten’s New England In-Table Campaign [Session 3]

Session Highlights

Sure enough, the adventurers will get to Vallaki in one piece!

For whatever reason, whenever I try to add new links to the highlight page on the blog, it doesn’t want to work within the first few minutes that I try to establish the link. Eventually, the link will work properly with some tweaking, though. Sorry about that technical difficulty.

Side note: Any art that I share of NPCs within these highlight posts is my (Mod Van Richten’s) original and fan art. Any art that I use for my players that wasn’t created by myself but by other artists online is kept private and within our friend circle.

Abrascus Barbarian (3) Path of the Ancestral Guardian Race: Tortle Background: Haunted One

Direthorn Rogue (3) Swashbuckler Race: Drow Background: Urchin

Flopsy Barbarian (3) Path of Wild Magic Race: Rabbit Man Background: Experiment

Mangus Monk (3) Way of the Open Hand Race: Half Elf Background: Urchin

Neracahne Wizard (3) School of Evocation Race: Eladrin Background: Noble

Nyra Rogue (3) Phantom Race: Fairy Background: Noble

We resume in the middle of their long rest under the cut:

At the start of their rest, the adventurers find out that Adelaide is a half elf, since she needs to sleep during the rest. After being forced to talk about himself, Escher tells the party that he used to be a noble when living in the Material Plane, and he went to school for wizardry. Mangus situates his bed roll right next to Adelaide. After his trance, Escher can’t help but glare at how close Mangus is to his daughter while they’re all sleeping.

Neracahne finishes her trance around the same time, as well as Direthorn, and Neracahne decides that she wants to talk to Escher while the others are still sleeping. Although Direthorn is keeping watch and up in a tree, they have an ear horn of hearing to overhear the conversation between them.

Escher vents to Neracahne about how invasive everyone was the night before, and he makes a promise to her that they will pay if they do anything to harm his daughter. He seems to warm up to her more than he did the others, given her approach to him.

The adventurers all had wonderful dreams the night before. However, when Direthorn woke up, they felt so sad. The only thing that will make them feel better is pie. Meanwhile, Flopsy, not only wants them, but he needs them and needs to make sure he’ll always have more. Direthorn was trying to steal Nyra’s pie when they were promptly tackled by Flopsy.

The two of them keep fighting over it, until Flopsy eventually gets his hands on it and immediately eats it. The two of them remembered that Granny, who’d given them the pies, lives in a mill on the way to Vallaki. Well, they are on their way to Vallaki. So, they all insist that they need to go there first.

When they get to the mill, the others immediately are suspicious. Meanwhile, Direthorn and Flopsy just want more pies. Direthorn even breaks through the window to get inside. Granny’s daughters are inside, named Stella and Ophelia.

Mangus notices a letter on the table, and he picks it up to read it. It reads:

Transcript: Vasili, my Dear Friend, Yes, of course I would be more than willing to help you with such a horrible problem! I can only imagine what those poor dears in Vallaki are going through. You know very well that I’ve had my own bad encounters with witches... encounters that have left their marks on my very soul. Children, orphaned or not, should never have to face such evil. If you find a way to get the little ones at St. Andral’s Orphanage safely out of Vallaki, I’ll be happy to house them in my windmill. There’s not much room here, true. But we have beds and pies to go round. Sincerely, Granny

While there, Direthorn and Flopsy buy the freshest pies they had, just as Granny arrives. She tells them that if they bring the children to her (twelve in total), she’ll give him a lifetime supply of pies. After all, he’s so desperate for them. He agrees to help her.

The only one that really notices something’s wrong is Nyra. Although she doesn’t get anything that tips her off to anything, she notices some suspicious looking barrels in the makeshift kitchen.

Flopsy is desperate to get to Vallaki quickly, so he insists that they all should travel through the woods. Originally, it was just him and Direthorn going through, while the others planned on going on the main road. But Ismark warns the others that it’s too dangerous to travel through the woods alone. So, the others follow behind.

Along the way, they come across a strange little graveyard with five headstones. Two wights have claimed this area as their territory, but Flopsy and Mangus manage to not trigger combat with the two of them. When they stray too long, they nearly get the five zombies buried in these graves to attack them. The party leaves well before they’re ready, though.

They manage to get to Vallaki in the late afternoon, and they are eager to get to Vasili’s. Before they enter town, they have to pass through customs, telling the guards their names, the weapons on their person, why they’re there, and how long they thing they’ll be here. After customs, the guards tell them the three rules:

Never say Strahd’s name.

If you’re staying for a week, you must attend the festival.

Don’t cause trouble.

Adelaide and Ireena are both awestruck at the sight of the town. Neither of them have ever been to a place like this before. While they’re walking, they find Rictavio’s carnival wagon parked near the stockade. Direthorn finds out that there’s an owlbear in the wagon and is curious about it but decides getting it riled up isn’t a good idea. While exploring, however, they find a weird looking box underneath the front seat. In the box they find a strange book, and they open it.

The beginning of the book reads:

“I, Strahd, Lord of Barovia, well aware certain events of my reign have been desperately misunderstood by those who are better at garbling history than recording it, hereby set down exact records of those events, that the truth may at last be known.”

Then, Abrascus, Direthorn, Flopsy, Ismark, Mangus, Neracahne, and Nyra are all suddenly taken into the world of this book. It’s like in Blue’s Clues, but with extra spookiness. They find themselves in a sunny courtyard, after being in this land with no sun for several days. Ismark, who has never been out in the sun in his entire life, absolutely hates the feeling that sunlight initially gives him.

There’s a twelve-year-old boy watching them. They find out that this boy is a younger Strahd von Zarovich, and through that, they realize that they’re in what they assume is Strahd’s journal.

Strahd thinks that this strange group of adventurers are his imaginary friends. He tells them all about how someday he’s going to be a general in his father’s army, with Rahadin training him. He also tells them about his baby brother Sturm, who’s going to serve his own purpose while Strahd becomes a conqueror.

Direthorn and Strahd have a friendly duel to try and prove how good of a fighter he is, but Strahd loses miserably. He gets frustrated. How is he ever going to get better at fighting? So, Direthorn gives him some pointers. They help him with footing and different stances. With that extra knowledge, Strahd now has advantage for when he now duels with Flopsy. With that advantage, Strahd manages to beat him. Soon after, Rahadin calls Strahd away for more training, and the party ends up back in the present with these parting words that echo through their minds:

“I am the Ancient. I am the Land. My beginnings are lost in the darkness of the past, yet that past is now filled only with regret.”

Direthorn is now attuned to this strange book. Once per day, they can attempt to decipher more of it with four consecutive, successful checks with either Intelligence (Arcana) or Intelligence (Investigation).

After they return to the present, and the others in their group are confused as to what happened, they meet the owner of this wagon: An eccentric and weaselly looking man named Rictavio. He wears a large burgundy hat on top of his head, presumably to cover his receding hairline. He’s a fast talker with a strange accent (A/N: I’m from New Jersey, and my players fell in love with my accent like the silly New Englanders they are, so I went ham with Rictavio’s voice). Rictavio tells them that they can keep the book they found in his wagon, since he couldn’t get it to work the way Direthorn did. The first page was already deciphered, he said, which is probably how they were able to get through so quickly this time around. It’s not going to be that easy with the book from now on, which is why Direthorn is now attuned to it.

They’re soon encountered by yet another person, who is the burgomaster of Vallaki: Baron Vargas Vallakovich. He welcomes them to the town, excited to see new faces in his town. He invites them to dinner for the next night, and they agree to come.

Finally, they head over to Vasili’s manor. Upon arrival, Escher’s personality shifts from his usual self to that of an obedient servant. Ireena is enamored with the sight of the manor, as well as Adelaide. Soon, Vasili comes out from his ostentatious library to see them, and the two ladies are both so excited to see him. Vasili tells the adventurers that they can stay in his guest house, and Nyra is quick to remind him that Ireena needs a chaperone while here. At that, Vasili appoints Adelaide.

Flopsy gives Vasili the letter that Granny wrote. Vasili looks so confused at the sight of it, especially when they all begin to insist that they need another wagon. That’s when he’s quick to interject and give them a proposal. He’ll give them another wagon on one condition: They’ll bring two orphans to Granny’s mill to start. If they see that the mill can accommodate for twelve children, they can come back for the rest.

The party is all welcome to browse the library. The books they grabbed depended on their Investigation checks. Anything under a 10 was a children’s picture book. Anything above 15 was a book with valuable information to what they were looking for. The higher the check, the more knowledge the player received. Nat 1 gave them the worst possible option. Here are some book highlights:

Barovian History (400 BC - 600 BC): A chronology of important events and obituaries over that period of two hundred years. BC stands for “Barovian Common.” Through this book, Abrascus found out about a strange man from Strahd’s past named Azalin Rex, who tried to start fights and uprisings with Strahd. There were also some notable figures in the obituary sections that were highlighted: Marina Ulrich, who had been brutally murdered, and Olya, who died of a fever.

A book of Vallakian Ghost Stories

A History Text about Vallaki’s Festivals: Nyra found out that the one festival that was always celebrated was the Festival of the Blazing Sun. It was a festival that commemorated the summer, back when the sun was still shining in Barovia. However, in recent history, there have now been festivals every single week. The only festival that is more than a day is the Festival of the Blazing Sun, which is the festival that is beginning in town in two days.

How Not to Get Killed By Zombies: Flopsy now has meta knowledge about damage immunities and traits that zombies typically have, as well as different zombie encounters told by survivors.

The Devil’s Pies: Nyra found this book. 150 years ago, an elderly woman came to Vallaki peddling pies. After she left, several children went missing, and a lot of the people that ate the pies went crazy. After that, she was barred from ever returning.

What is an Owlbear? - A Conspiracy Booklet: Direthorn now knows that there is at least one person in Barovia that is weirded out by the existence of owlbears and the logistics of them.

Different Children’s Book Highlights:

Don’t Speak of the Devil!: A book with different caricatures of Strahd warns children about how it’s bad to say Strahd’s name.

Your Grown Body And You: Mangus found a puberty book.

And, my favorite, for Mangus’ Nat 1 on trying to find a book about how to talk to women:

One Night in Ravenloft - An Erotic Compendium by Strahd von Zarovich, fifth ed.

Nyra goes to Vasili after finding the book The Devil’s Pies, and she warns him that maybe this isn’t a good idea. Vasili said that he just thought it was only something that happened in the past, since it was 150 years ago, but he concedes and thanks Nyra for warning him.

Also, Adelaide openly looked confused by the book Don’t Speak of the Devil! She asked why “the devil’s” face looked the way it did in the book. It seems like she didn’t understand, but the party assures her that it’s just because Strahd’s evil.

Meanwhile, Flopsy had decided to go to St. Andral’s Orphanage alone. He wants those pies. He gets directions from a villager that leads him directly there. He insists on coming in when the door is answered, and he shows her the letter. The headmistress is offended at being accused of being a witch. With how insistent Flopsy was about needing the children, she is very uncomfortable and slams the door in his face, locking it up tightly.

Flopsy knows he needs to get these children to get more pie, so he breaks down the door with his maul. The children and headmistress are hiding upstairs. He heads up there and breaks down that door. Suddenly, it’s like the mists begin to shroud his will. He feels a strange crown of thorns wrapping around his head, and he blacks out.

When Flopsy comes to, he’s covered in blood, and the headmistress is on the ground dead. The orphans are crying and screaming while cowering away from him. Flopsy doesn’t know what to do, so he walks out and leaves the orphans alone.

He’s very soon approached by the captain of the town guard, with four other guards beside him. This large man has a fiendish arm that makes him look intimidating innately. He’d heard the commotion and was suspicious when he stopped hearing the headmistress’ voice. So, he questions Flopsy as to what happened, since he’s covered in blood.

Flopsy lies and tells the guard captain that two wights attacked the orphanage and Flopsy just tried to save him. Because the man had poor insight to Flopsy’s lies, he lets him go.

The session ends after Flopsy cleans himself up and arrives just in time for dinner to be served at Vasili’s manor.

[anautisticdragon-blog]

Humanity's Love Affair with the Sociopath

Sigh. This one's been a long time coming, I've been putting it off because it's such a big topic, but I need to talk about it eventually because it's at the core of everything I've ever talked about. It's my problem with the Zeitgeist, and with contemporary society today. It's my beef, it grins my gears, and it's something you've never asked yourself.

Why do you love sociopaths?

The media is partly to blame, it always is. We've seen an evolution of character types across the decades, from the friendly person with the heart of gold from the idealistic '80s doing all it can to avoid the inherent, inborn corruption of humanity, to the more earnest depiction of an abrasive, incredibly cynical person with a heart of gold from the '90s. From Ninja Turtles to John Constantine, they all had something in common.

They had a heart. They all had compassion, empathy, and no matter how cynical some of those '90s characters could get, underneath it all there was still a basic belief in humanity. A compassion that drove them to always do the right thing despite their bitterness at an uncaring world, an untainted moral compass that never swerved away from wanting what was best. For everyone, with no one left out. An end to the suffering people unjustly endured at the hands of those without a soul.

At some point, we started cheering on the villain. The abyssal creature without a soul, the demonic presence that had no heart to speak of, never you mind one of stone. It became so 'kewl' to be the con man, robbing old ladies for all their worth, spitting on the heroic figures who'd heretofore showed children the consequences of such actions.

It all comes down to the rise of extraversion and how it's tainted to its very core. It might sound like a horrible way to think, but there's just too much evidence to support it and there's going to be a lot of that in this post. I've learned that it isn't 'Humanity are Bastards,' as the trope goes, but rather 'Extraverts are Bloody Psychopaths,' just within varying degrees.

Why do you think the Nigerian scam mails worked? Affiliative extraverts thought themselves clever, they'd 'play' the poor prince, get him to open up and trust them so that they could get that big, juicy slice of money. And then? They'd not give it back! 10 per cent! Why have such a meagre pittance when you could take this 'innocent prince' for all he's worth? What a lark, take that silly sod to the cleaners for trusting you!

Didn't work out that way, eh extraverts?

As good as extraverts think they are at 'playing the game,' sociopaths are a billion times better. And affiliative extraverts seem almost wired to fall for it. It might be a survival instinct to obey the strongest, and thus be seeen as such by proxy, so sociopathic behaviour is desirable because it exudes airs of 'strength.' Even when that 'strength' gets your bank account cleaned out because you thought you were being bloody clever.

Instead of falling arse over tit for a stupid, stupid con.

It's why we have cults of personality... right? Just the affiliatives trying to emulate the 'strong,' trying to be 'strong' by proxy. All looking to the 'strong' for guidance, for will, to do what they bloody can't. Trying to behave like them in order to gain favour. Whether it's Steve Jobs, Donald Trump, or any charismatic sack of ichorous waste, whatever the Wastrel of the Day is, if they're manipulative enough, the affiliatives will follow.

It happens on all kinds of scales. All kinds. You'd have to be the world's shiniest example of a Joe bloody Soap to not see it, and people don't. These cults of personality pop up everywhere. And I have to pick out an obscure favourite of mine so that people won't be too invested in it, if you're seeing this from an outside perspective, you might actually catch on. So, what manner of dirtbag is going to serve as my example?

I'm going to use one that was never of criminal intent, though a generally scummy person nonetheless. Chris Avellone. In video game circles you might have heard of him, most do I'd think, and they worship him without even really knowing why. Why? Well, he's a sociopath, isn't he? Anyone with the brass clackers enough to lead a cult of personality always is.

Nature of the beast.

What'd he do? Let's see. He wrote a Fallout Bible and claimed to have absolute creative veto over the IP, for one thing. If a designer or writer had anything contradictory to say on the matter? He'd passive-aggressively mock them in his 'Bible.' That he called it a bible is more than a bit telling, don't you think? That's not indicative of off the charts narcissistic arrogance at all. Oh no, not even a little bit. No, no...

So let's look at the characters he's proud of including in video games, shall we? Kreia, from Knights of the Old Republic: A soapbox for Avellone's seedy, unbalanced views and a sociopath. Ulyssess, from New Vegas: See Kreia. Weeping Mother, from Pillars of Eternity: See Kreia. Sensing a pattern, yet? Ulysses wanted to nuke everyone back into a fresh apocalyptic state, it's what humanity deserved, he just wanted to watch them burn.

Avellone has often said that that's what he'd wish for the Fallout franchise. That's not worrying at all, right? Okay, how about how in a recent interview, with all of the cocksure arrogance of a sociopath, he told an interviewer that he prefers 'smart evil?' He'd prefer to 'talk two people into killing one another' rather than actually save anyone. Or Tyranny, which was Avellone's brainchild? That was a world of villainy and evil, lead by sociopaths... Cor, have to wonder if you're sensing a pattern yet. I am.

Oh, and he took an ending out of a game that allowed a group of sapient creatures a future, and a chance at happiness. Why? They weren't human, he believed that their purpose in the story was to die and suffer. Oh yes, did I mention that Avellone is a bit of a crackpot?

And yet people love him.

So, let's move onto a fictional example. Rocket Raccoon was originally an abrasive character with a heart of gold, much like John Constantine. I adored him. That's when he was written by Dan Abnett and Andy Lanning. Did you know that Rocket had a different origin than the dreary rot the films put him through? He was originally a fluffy artificial life form created to help the mentally disabled and disturbed. In DnA's run on Guardians of the Galaxy, Rocket was a really nice fellah, reliable, and a genius. Definitely a bit rough around the edges, to be sure, but a stand up bloke nonetheless.

So, Rocket Raccoon is handed over to Bendis. Brian Michael Bendis...

Brian "Misogyny'n snuff porn is my bag, yo!" Bendis. Brian "I think it's super funny when Elektra gets kicked hard in the vagina by a guy, especially when the onomatopoeia is FOOM!" Bendis. Brian "If a woman didn't get shot in the head in this issue, I didn't write it!" Bendis. Brian "I hate Grant Morrison and Alan Moore just because they're British and that scares me!" Bendis. Brian "It's so funny whenever Tigra gets humiliated, stripped down, forced to do naughty things on camera, and then gets brutally raped by white villains. 'Cause I hate her and that makes it funny! Hehe!" Bendis. Brian "When I write Doctor Doom, he gets to call a woman a 'fat cow whore' and it's totally in character!" Michael God Damn Fucking Bendis.

So, yes, Bendis is also a sociopath. We won't talk about that, here, though. I think I've already covered my grievances above well enough. Suffice it to say though that this man has a history of being shitty to women in comics. And you can probably guess what happens to Rocket, right? Rocket is now a misogynistic sociopath. Hooray. He's a massive arsehole. And not the kind that has a heart of gold, of course. Oh no, not even slightly. He's just a humongous pile of shit.

Cheers, Bendis. You desperate, oversexed and sexually frustrated tosspot. I don't want to be around for the next character you drag over hot coals. That, loves, is why I no longer 'Make Mine Marvel.' More like, 'Take Thine Garble... and shove it where the sun don't shine!' I'm sorry, I have to be facetious, I can't make it through this any other way.

The world is just obsessed with sociopathy.

Take a running kick at a cat's skull to post up on Youtube? Haha, it's funny! Grab a dolphin out of its water, toss it around and abuse it on camera for the purpose of selfies? It's fiiine! When did we start excusing this kind of shit? When did we begin to turn a blind eye? When did it become okay for some charismatic, inbred pigfucker to ruin Britain for everyo--Okay, now I'm getting too specific, aren't I?

That's the truth of it, though. All it takes is charisma and a Machiavellian mind and you can get away with anything! You can be the world's biggest dickhole and people will just cheer you on, no matter what you do! It doesn't matter who gets hurt in the process, does it? And that's where this pus-filled bubo on the face of humanity I 'affectionately' call the Alt-Blight rose from. This is the kind of hell we're living in where somone can have people genuinely think they're hot shit and the greatest new thing since sliced bloody bread for driving a car into a crowd of peaceful protestors!

HOW IS THIS HAPPENING TO THE WORLD???

I come back to Rocket Raccoon in my head. A fluffy critter made to help out the mentally infirm and troubled, reinvented in this cool, hip new age of rabid sociopathy to be a psychopathic, crazy cyborg killer. Why?

Why any of this?

Extraverts.

It's the conclusion I keep coming to and the one I can never get away from. It's what I pointed out when I linked that video from Mike Rowlands just a li'l bit back where he was pointing out how an Alt-Blight arsehat was being a filthy, pathological liar. In one shot, putting on a sob story about how his ilk are just 'peaceful,' not at all violent like the left, and so unfairly 'persecuted for having wrong opinions,' boo-hoo; In another shot, shown counting and bragging about his many, many, many guns.

Extraverts are enablers. They're a hoard, a hive, a buzzing little collective of workers that empower sociopaths by being taken in by them, granting these nutcases power beyond reckoning through their sheer numbers. This is how Trump happened, becasue affiliative extraverts are so easily brainwashed, conditioned, and tricked. All you have to do is convince them they're being clever, that they're in the 'in crowd,' that their chosen social tribe is the most hip, happenin', 'kewl' one out there? And they will, each and every one, collectively swear a holy blood oath to a known murderer.

And thanks to that, we're in a position where it's 'cool' to be a sociopath, psychopath, or other kind of crazy. it's 'seductive,' it's 'hot,' it's 'alluring,' it's 'pull your heads out of your fucking arses.' This isn't Twilight. It's 'strong,' it's 'powerful,' it's 'money,' it's 'stop being so damn deluded while the world dies around you.' With readily denied real issues rotting the world we live on, like global warming and overpopulation, this earth's not going to be around much longer. So why?

Why?

Do you just not care about your children? At all? Or your grand kids?

You bunch of bloody soggy-brained lunatics. That's all I can really say on the matter, isn't it? Singing and dancing while the world burns around you. You bloody lunatics.

I'm just going to talk a liittle about something personal that means a bit to me before I wrap this up. It's even managed to invade the furry community, to worrying degrees. When the Internet was younger, when there were few extraverts (because the Internet was wickedly complicated and they'd not the salted noodles enough to figure it out), the furry fandom was such a genuinely lovely place. It was. You should've seen Furcadia at its height, it was lovely. There were these little communities hosted on servers called MUCKS where fantastically brilliant, singular people got together to dream and imagine things only the brightest furry minds would.

It's why there were a lot of furries involved in video game development in the '90s and early '00s, you know? True story. Look into it. Dr. Cat is but one example. Anyway, it was good. And now? The Alt-Blight have invaded these MUCKs, chased all of the light and wonder away, so these are now tainted, festering hellholes of hatred. It's bizarre to walk through them again and, crestfallen, see how that cancer has made them sick with bile.

Even furries now have to deal with the Alt-Blight. I'm sure a lot of furries might think it's cool. That's the friggernaffin' Zeitgeist, isn't it? Sociopathy is so cool, hot, powerful, and sexy, and a giant taintfest of hatred, let's please never forget that part. It's a very important part, I think.

So it's everywhere. I feel like it's overtaking everything that ever meant something to me. So this is a fight. It has to be. In its own way, this is a war. This is the most abstract war anyone's ever fought. It's a war fought by abstracts against abstracts. It's a war fought against hatred, by compassion; It's a war fought against intolerance, by acceptance; It's a war fought against arrogance, by knowledge; It's a war fought against propaganda, by independent thought; It's a war fought against collectivism, by creativity; It's a war fought against the worst of us, by the best of us.

So, you know. I might be an abrasive buttface, and that's fine, because my heart's always in the right place. I'm not a misogynist, I don't abuse animals, I'm hardly about to run a car into a crowd of people... I think this defines the very opposite of who I am. I've chosen my side. I think that's something we all have to do, now, because it's necessary. Because this is happening and we're not going to be able to hide our heads in the sand any longer.

I get to choose to be 'a poncy, SJW, politically correct sissboy' or... well, a monster. An actual monster. Which is what they are. It might be evangelical, but it's how we have to look at the world, now. So I'm proud to be an SJW, I've said it in the past. I couldn't be more proud, I couldn't be happier! I derive great personal worth from this, because I'm not a monster.

Monsters of yore might have had scales or fur, they might've been fifty stories tall or come in flying saucers. The monster of today has white skin, they're not that tall, either, and they certainly didn't arrive in flying saucers. No, these monsters are home-grown. They're our monsters. And we have to recognise them as such.

If you see a Nazi, say Nazi. That's what every sociopath, psychopath, and associated nutjob out there is going to be. The Alt-Blight, what have you? Nazi. Even ex-neo Nazis will tell you that the Alt-Blight are Nazis.

So can we stop glorifying and empowering monsters now, please?

This is a dark time in history, one of those things where the younger generations will look back and shake their heads in such terrible shame. So let's come out swinging and put this Nazi blight to rest. Once and for all.

Citations

Abused Cat Abused Dolphin Avellone Prefers Sociopathy Example of Bendis's Sociopathy Alt-Blight Furry Troubles Alt-Blight MUCK Taint Alt-Blight Brainwashing

[directorscutandsomeotherstuff]

Mysterious Disease

(Welcome to Director’s Cut, and holy crap, are those actual followers? When did this nonsense happen? A few months ago, the only people who noticed what I was doing in this corner were blogs trying to advertise their porn. Well, now that there’s something of an actual audience, here, I guess I’d better put on my respectable face and... no, actually, I’m just gonna keep making fun of shitty fanfiction.)

(I never watched Hamtaro, as a kid. Nope. Nope. Not me. I was certainly not a boy in middle school who unironically took time out of his day to watch the animated adventures of a hamster and his club house full of hamster friends as they had adorable adventures when their owners all went to school and work. That was certainly not me. I was always a manly boy, who was into manly things and manly manliness...)

(Holy fuck, he’s wearing an accountant visor and doing little hamster paperwork ohmygawdwhyisthisshowsodamncuteyouguysjesusfuckingchri-)

(So, now that I’ve got that out of my system... ChibiMizu apparently also liked the show, but found that the one thing it was missing was hamsters making out or something. What follows is not so much a re-imagining of a beloved franchise as much as it’s one author’s descent into literary madness. I’d just like to suggest you take a look at the original page, just to see how this was formatted in its original incarnation. I’m going to introduce line-breaks, because otherwise this thing is unreadable. I’m feeling kind of spicy, today, so I think I’m gonna tackle two chapters at once.)

"Mysterious Disease" by: ChibiMizu! Disclaimer: I dun own Hamtaro! Poo... ChibiMizu: Ya know, they REALLY need a section for Hamtaro! Makes me very upset to have to put it in Misc. Its deserves so much better! T_T (Well, you’ll be glad to know you got your wish, sometime after this was posted. And it’s got over a thousand entries.) CheeseMaster: Yeah right... This is sick! O.O;; ChibiMizu: Whadya mean 'sick'?! Its KAWAII!!! Yaoi and yuri ham-hams! Awe its CUTE! ^^ (I will never understand why teenage girls think gay sex is “cute.” At least some portion of it involves things going into people’s butts.) CheeseMaster: No, not really... hamsters? GAY?! ChibiMizu: Gay??!! no, yaoi! There's a difference! (not really...) (Yaoi Hands would probably disagree with that sentiment, missy.) CheeseMaster: Well anyways, this fic is-- ChibiMizu: Yaoi AAAAND yuri! ^^ Pairings: HowdyxDexter, HamtaroxOxnard, SandyxBijou one-sided StanxMaxwell, and LauraxKana! CheeseMaster: But they're a bunch of hamsters and two 5th graders for crying out loud! (Actually, I kind of second the part about the 5th graders. Hamsters cornholing each other’re just funny, but...) ChibiMizu: No thanks! I don't cry out loud! ^^ CheeseMaster: Dah... ChibiMizu: Okie dokie then! You have been warned! ^^ read on if ya dare! and review if ya please to tell me how icky or kewl this idea is! ~.^ ~Proloug~ */*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/* "Kushi kushi." the orange spotted hamster rubbed his little pink paws on his face as he watched Laura get ready for school. (Nope. He could feel his face, which meant he wasn’t dreaming. He was going to be in a yaoi fanfic. He clasped his hands together in a short prayer to The Hamster Jeebus, asking for the strength to budda-budda on out of this nightmare.)

"See ya later Hamtaro! Be good!" Laura smiled as she grabbed her bag and left the room.

"Finally! I thought she'd NEVER leave!" Hamtaro rolled his eyes impatiently. 

"Chick-ah chick-ah chick-ah!" he went through the opening in his cage and ran to the little hole he had munched out. "Grooba!" he squeeked as he flew through the air and landed on Brandy's head. (You know, when you just write the Hamspeak out like this, it makes it sound like pointless baby talk. Also, I guess the gutter he slides down was out, this morning, so he just base-jumped out of the house?)

"Good morning Brandy! Have a nice sleep? Of course! You always do!" he greeted the dog, jumping off his head and heading towards the Ham-Ham clubhouse.

"Hey Hamtaro!" a familiar voice sounded from behind the walking hamster.

"Hamha Oxnard!" Hamtaro smiled and waited for his friend to catch up.

"Kana was moving oddly slow this morning! It took me awhile to get out!" Oxnard caught up and the two ham-ham's started walking to the clubhouse.

"Same with Laura! Think they're sick?" Hamtaro paniced, stopping in his tracks. (”Like, maybe they’re sick with Slow Motion Disease. I hear that’s common among anime girls, right up there with Giant Head As You Call Someone a Baka Disorder.”)

"I dunno! They could be sick, I mean Kana gave me extra sunflower seed this morning and she NEVER does that!"

(”What?” Hamtaro cried. “Your owner’s showing you kindness and affection? This is worse than I thought. She’s on death’s door!”)

"Hmm, weird. We'll have to ask the other Ham-Ham's! C'mon Oxnard! Let's go!" the two hamsters then bolted towards the underground clubhouse.

"Hamtaro! Good timeing! We have a crisis on our hands!" a very antsy Boss rushed over to the just entering Hamtaro and Oxnard.

"What's wrong Boss?!" Hamtaro asked, looking around.

"Dexter MUST be sick!"

"Why?!"

"He refuses to go ANY where near Pashmina! He then laughs at Howdy's jokes! We think he's delusional!" Maxwell stated, not looking up from his book.

"Oh he must be sick! To laugh at Howdy's jokes!" Oxnard frowned, looking at the laughing Dexter to the stumped Howdy.

"Oh Howdy! That was VERY funny!" Dexter laughed, side-stepping away from the confused Pashmina. (Um... Do... do you think that’s how gay people act? Or, like, just hamsters? Do you think they melt if they come in contact with estrogen, or something?)

"What's wrong Dexter? Why are you laughing at Howdy's jokes??!!" Hamtaro questioned the still laughing Dexter.

"But they're SO hilarious!" he managed out between laughs. (”I mean, ‘the Aristocrats?’ Fucking. Classic. Bro!”) Hamtaro sweatdropped and looked back at Howdy who shrugged. Suddenly, Dexter stopped laughing and 'hiffed' the air. (It smelled like estrogen. He would surely be dead, by evening, if he didn’t get some man in his system, ASAP.)

"Be right back!" he called, rushing out of the room (and hoping against hope there was such a thing as a tiny hamster truck stop).

"What was THAT all about?" Pashmina asked, worried about the strangely acting Dexter. "You better follow him Howdy."

"What?! Me?! That guy's SCARIN' me today! I ain't gonna FOLLOW him!" Howdy protested, backing away from the group.

(”You know,” Maxwell chimed in, opting to be the voice of reason, “he’s got a point. Maybe we should just wait for him to come back and quietly ask him what’s going on, instead of sending someone out alone to talk to a guy who’s acting all..”)

"Please Howdy? For me?" Pashmina pleaded, trying to get him to go after Dexter.

(”Oh, okay, cool.” Maxwell said. “Don’t be sensible, then. I’m just gonna sit here and keep reading “The Ham Who Was Thursday.”)

"Fine... only cuz you asked nicely..." Howdy gave in, slumping over sightly and exiting the room in defeat. */*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/* Ending noties: Weird ne? Blah! So_short! Well it IS the proloug afterall... CheeseMaster: I STILL can't believe you... ChibiMizu: Oh, believe in the power, believe! (The power of what? Fanfiction’s awful tendency to make every single story about manlove? I don’t need to believe in that; I’ve got proof in spades.) CheeseMaster: RRRrrright... *goes away* ChibiMizu *sweatdrops* Ok then! Sorry if they seem OOC, it's SUPPOSED ta be that way! BUAHAAAAaaa... O.O;; review if ya care ta! I need ta know people are disgusted with me! ^.~  (Well, you’re a little shit, aren’t you?)

(Well, fuck. Now I’m not feeling so spicy. This thing’s five chapters long. The author managed to squeeze out over 6000 words of this garbled monstrosity. Ugh, come on DC. You said two chapters, so let’s give ‘em two chapters.)

"Mysterious Disease." by: ChibiMizu Disclaimer: As if you really care, I don't own Hamtaro! ^.o (Eww. Don’t be blinking your lizard eyes at me, ChibiMizu.) ChibiMizu: Chapter ONE! Heheheee!!

CheeseMaster: But what about--

ChibiMizu: REMEMBER! That was the proloug??!!! (I consider myself to be antiloug, personally. Fuck lougs. They always leave the toilet seat up.)

CheeseMaster: Ooh yeah! I remember now! O.O;;

ChibiMizu: Enuf mindless chatting from me an' my muse! On with the fic!

CheeseMaster: Whatya mean YOUR muse?!!

ChibiMizu: Nufin'! ^_^()

CheeseMaster: Rrrrriiight... You're DEFINITELY losin' it...

ChibiMizu: Losin'? Lost you mean! Also to the people who don't know, I wrote this after watching 'Rose Red by Stephen King' (which BTW, is a REALLY good creepy movie and i suggest watching it! ^^ [I don't own THAT either...]) and after downing glass after glass of hyped up LEMONADE! Yummy! Then listening to 'Nightmare' which is a Wei§ Kruez songie that I don't own but is REALLY CREEPY! So that's to warn all you out there, that this MAY be dangerous for you to read, NOT that I'm trying to discourage you or anything... (You know, I don’t think I’ve ever said this about any author on this blog, but... you are really annoying. You’re like, that one girl who thought making Bayonetta say “rape” over and over again was funny, but somehow you’re even worse.)

Pairings are the same as last chappys: HowdyxDexter, HamtaroxOxnard, SandyxBijou one-sided StanxMaxwell, and LauraxKana! Extra Notes: Just thought I'd tell everyone and to reassure SabanDX that this WILL NOT and I repeat WILL NOT be a lemon! Or even lime! That would just... ruin it... completely nastiness... Nuf' from me! Read and review please!! (Oh, there we go. She thinks sexual attraction to the same sex is cute, but she doesn’t really want to think about the “sexual” part of it. This sentiment was quaint, when it was other authors doing it.) ~*~Chapter 1~*~ */*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/* "Why do I have to look for him? I don't deserve this..." Howdy grumbled under his breath as he looked around for the missing Dexter. "DEXTER! Get back here! I don't wanna keep lookin' for ya!" Howdy called, hoping for a response. "This is like that one joke where-- oh look it's Dex. Gulp..." the semi-frightened Howdy stopped in his tracks and dove into the nearest bush.

In front of him stood and very tall and very smiling person with pigtails and braided eartails! She was grinning so wide that Howdy thought her mouth was going to fall off. She knelt down, handing something in her hand to---

"Dexter!" Howdy eyed the two in complete confusion, Dexter smiling not as widely as the girl who skipped off singing: 'The real folk blues! Honto no kanashimi ga shiritaidake...' (A/n- I dun own Cowboy Bebop or the song 'The Real Folk Blues'!!)

(I... I just... These three paragraphs were one solid block of text, before I split it up into the closest thing to rational thoughts I could manage. Trying to read it all at once, my eyes just glazed over. I’ve got no snark. I’ve got no jokes. This author... she is ChibiMizuas, queen of queens. Gaze upon her yaoi fanfics, ye mighty, and despair.)

"Dex?" a stunned Howdy asked, coming out from the bushes. Wide-eyed, Dexter stopped and hid the thing he received behind his back.

"O-oh H-hello Howdy! What's wrong?" he smiled, trying not to panic.

"Whatcha got there eh Dexter?" Howdy smirked, trying to see what Dexter held behind him.

"N-nothing Howdy! It's nothing! Why are you way out here anyway?" Dexter muttered, trying to change the subject.

"I should ask YOU the same question! Runnin' off without a word to us about where ya was goin''! You coulda gotten hurt!" Howdy complained, trying to make Dexter look like a bad ham. (Howdy was fond of trying to dress people up to look like spoiled food. One time Stan ate a piece of his strawberry cake and for weeks afterwards, Howdy made him wear a hat that made him look like bad spaghetti.)

"I'm sorry Howdy. I shouldn't have done that. I really am sorry..." he plopped on the ground and hugged his little package tightly, sniffling every once in a while. (Every once in a while? Was he sitting there for several minutes?)

"Eh, I didn't mean to sound so mean..." Howdy confessed, but not allowing himself to fall prey to the fact that he liked Dexter as a good friend, not enemies as most would think. (ChibiMizu wiggled in her chair, hopped up on sugary lemonade and shitty German music. Surely, she thought to herself, nobody would ever be so subversive as to suggest that the two characters who argued all the time secretly loved each other. How mad would the audience be, she thought with a giggle and a wiggle, if they all knew they secretly... held hands or whatever she thought gay people did, when they were in a relationship.)

"R-really? Do you mean that Howdy?" Dexter studdered, looking up and as he did, his glasses fell off his nose and dropped in front of Howdy's feet. Howdy kneeled down and took the glasses in his paw.

"Ya know, you look better without your glasses." he smiled, gently placing the beige frames on the wide-eyed Ham-Ham. Dexter's jaw dropped as Howdy placed a pink paw on his cheek and grinned. (This, as far as ChibiMizu was concerned, was the equivalent to a sweaty makeout and some over the pants rubdowns in real life.) "C'mon, we better get back to the others." Dexter fell out of his dreamy state as Howdy said these words and left him behind.

Holding up the package in front of him, he inhaled deeply and smiled, "This stuff sure does the trick!" he quickly looked behind him towards the girl who had since long disappeared and gave her a silent 'thanks' just before he ran off after Howdy. +-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+ *AN- Ok ok, this would be where normally I say 'TBC' but I dun wanna do that just because I want the first chapter to be sooo much longer than the proloug so...* +-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

(I’m glad to hear that ChibiMizu decided to keep writing. I would have been so confused if she just decided to stop.) Still stumped by Dexter's outrageous behavior earlier, Hamtaro sat at the table, next to Oxnard who was equally confused, trying to figure out the problem with their Ham-Ham friends and their humans.

"Do you think that Dexter caught the same disease as Laura and Kana?" Oxnard interuped the thinking Hamtaro. (”You know, the one that makes people move slowly and feed their pets?”)

"Could be! I wonder... is this disease or whatever it is, could be catching??!!" he worried, not wanting to have a disease that could make him laugh at Howdy's jokes. He shuddered at the thought. (Hamtaro was secretly a bit of a dick, to his friends.)

"I sure hope not! I don't want to be sick like Kana!"

"Why not?"

"Well," the hamster played with his sunflower and fidgeted. "She sang and danced around her room and kept saying 'I love her!' and it was VERY scary..." he sighed, blushing.

"Wait! 'I love her'???!!! Are you sure Oxxy?"

"Positive! It was very weird."

"Oh, that MIGHT be the key! Laura did the same thing!"

"That's kinda strange, considering that they're both female humans.”

"Oh yeah! I thought that Laura liked male humans!" (Hamtaro’s eyes widened. Crap. What if one of the symptoms was calling people male and female humans, like an alien? At this point, nothing could be ruled out as not being a symptom!)

"Same with Kana! I wonder what---" the duo's confusing conversation was abruptly interrupted as everybody else in the clubhouse quickly ran over to Stan. (No matter what crises the Ham-Hams faced, they always stopped to observe the 10:45 “Everybody Run Over to Stan” ritual. It was a tradition that brought them all closer together. Mostly literally.)

"What happened?" Hamtaro asked, pushing through the crowd.

"He just all of a sudden his nose started bleeding!" Pashmina stated, pointing to the blushing Stan who was now trying to cover up the blood. (Hamster blood. The hamster blood. The hamster blood. The fucking hamster bl-)

"It's nothing Ham-dudes! Nothing at all!" he managed out wiping the blood from his nose on his arm, averting his gaze from Maxwell.

"Here," the taller Ham-Ham smiled, handing over a small cloth to wipe up the mess.

"Eheh... thanks Maxwell..." he took the cloth and managed a smile before turning away from him and wiping it up.

"Well that was... different." Hamtaro said, returning with Oxnard to the table.

"Uh oh! Do you think that Stan caught the disease??!!" Oxnard asked, moving slightly farther from Stan. (So, running tally, here. The symptoms of this “disease” include: moving slowly, singing, giving people free food, finding jokes funny, keeping a minimum distance from girls and... nosebleeds. Somebody call the CDC, we’ve got a confirmed case of Nothing Fever, here!)

"I dunno, but whatever it is, I don't want it!" Hamtaro moved too, both now on the other side of the room. "Now about Kana and Laura..." *With the girl Hams* "Oh that was THE funniest thing EVER!!!" Sandy laughed, holding her sides. (”Fucking ‘Aristocrats!’ It gets me every time!”)

"I do not see what is so funny about your brother bleeding from his nose!" Bijou frowned, confused as heck.

"Oh Bijou! It's the power of hentai thoughts! If bad enough, you get a bloody nose! Hahahaa!!!" she laughed harder from t he dumfounded look on Bijou's face. (Sandy always considered her brother’s libido to be hilarious. Frankly speaking, the other Hams considered her keen interest to be a bit... creepy.)

"H-h-hentai????!!!!" she frowned more, glancing at the still blushing Stan who was moving away from Maxwell. "There is no way that--!" she then thought of the Stan that she knew. "Then again..." she chuckled, then started laughing along with Sandy. 

"What's so funny girls?" Maxwell asked coming over to them, making a nervous Stan move to the other side of the room near Oxnard and Hamtaro who in turn moved to the other side of the room. "Do you know what was wrong with Stan? Or Hamtaro and Oxnard for that matter?"

"Well, not about Oxxy and Hamtaro but Stan..." they again started a round of merciless laughing.

"Um... what about Stan? Is that the reason you're over here laughing your heads off?" Maxwell asked, raising an eyebrow.

"The POWER of hentai thoughts!! AHAHAaaa!!!" Sandy managed out, rolling around on the ground.

"Wh-what??!!!" Maxwell asked, falling to the ground on his butt. (There was much power in that shout of POWER!)

"Awe Maxwell! You heard her! When you think hentai thoughts, your nose bleeds!" Bijou piped in, breathing deep from lack of air while laughing.

(”Actually,” Maxwell said, “that’s a bit of a mis-characterization. While it’s certainly a thing in Japanese culture that nosebleeds are considered a symbol of excitement, it’s only within certain very limited genres of their animation that it’s come to be accepted as a signal of arousal. And considering that there’s really no evidence that the heightened blood pressure... no, wait, sorry. Let me just stop being the smart guy, here. It’d be pissing straight into the wind.”)

"Oh my, that's well..." Maxwell tried to think of something intelligent to say but the fact that Stan was over there with hentai thoughts erased all memory temporarily.

"Heh, I wonder who about!" Sandy completely stopped laughing and thought about this. (The others felt red flags raise, at the thought of Sandy giving serious thought about her brother’s taste in sexual partners. It was turning into the Christmas party, all over again.)

"I don't know... well..." Bijou joined in thinking leaving Maxwell stumped at this.

"Oh my gosh..." the color drained from Sandy's face as she looked from Maxwell to Stan to Bijou.

"Is that possible? But he knows that you... Oh my..." Bijou said, realizing that Stan was keeping his distance from Maxwell. In a matter of seconds, both Ham's glared daggers at Stan who was now pounding his head on the wall. (Aww, Stan, buddy. I’ve been there. It helps to think about baseball.)

"Who?" Maxwell asked, cocking his head to one side in question.

"Well... we'll um... tell ya later, after we talk to Stan to make sure we're right..." (Sandy was going to solve this matter in-house. No brother of hers was going to be giving his body to no boy ham. Not while she had some blackmail material left over from last Christmas.)

 Sandy, still glaring, stood up and headed over to Stan, with Bijou right behind her. Still stumped at this whole thing, he stood up and headed over to Hamtaro and Oxnard who were just a little ways away, thinking maybe they knew what was going on with Stan. To be continued... +-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+ ChibiMizu: NOW its the end of chapter 1!! CheeseMaster: Eh, you DO know it's not nice to confuse the readers... ChibiMizu: Yeah it is! Whatchu talkin' 'bout Willis? (You do not meme your way out of this, lady!) CheeseMaster: Eheh... ChibiMizu: Well, I think everybody out there gets the gist of where this is going... Review and inform me of stuff... ^.^() Buh-byes!!

(Okay. Fine. Good. It’s over, for now. This was a terrible idea. I don’t think anything good came out of this. Well, except for that one thing. Somebody really needs to write “The Ham Who Was Thursday.” That’s gonna be my takeaway from this adventure.)