#the wrecking ball with a million dollar smile

[ladytrist]

Upcoming 2022 Romance Books That Deserve A Lot More Hype and Recognition

Title: FULL FLIGHT

Author: ASHLEY SCHUMACHER (author of Amelia Unabridged)

Release Date: FEBRUARY 22, 2022

Everyone else in the tiny town of Enfield, Texas calls fall football season, but for the forty-three members of the Fighting Enfield Marching Band, it’s contest season. And for new saxophonist Anna James, it’s her first chance to prove herself as the great musician she’s trying hard to be. When she’s assigned a duet with mellophone player Weston Ryan, the boy her small-minded town thinks of as nothing but trouble, she’s equal parts thrilled and intimidated. But as he helps her with the duet, and she sees the smile he seems to save just for her, she can’t help but feel like she’s helping him with something too. After her strict parents find out she’s been secretly seeing him and keep them apart, together they learn what it truly means to fight for something they love. With the marching contest nearing, and the two falling hard for one another, the unthinkable happens, and Anna is left grappling for a way forward without Weston. A heartbreaking novel about finding your first love and what happens when it's over too soon. Ashley Schumacher’s Full Flight is about how first love shapes us—even after it’s gone.

Title: ALWAYS JANE

Author: JENN BENNETT (author of Alex Approximately)

Release Date: MARCH 29, 2022

A chauffer’s daughter finds herself in the middle of a love triangle with the sons of her boss’s wealthy next-door neighbors in this delightfully romantic story. Love—and Fen Sarafian—do not care about your summer plans. Eighteen-year-old chauffeur’s daughter Jane Marlow grew up among the domestic staff of a wealthy LA rock producer, within reach of bands she idolizes, but never a VIP. Every summer, Jane and her father head to the Sierras to work at the producer’s luxury lodge at Lake Condor—a resort town and the site of a major musical festival. The legendary family who runs the festival are the Sarafians, and Jane’s had a longtime crush on their oldest son, Eddie—doltish but sweet. So when a long-distance romance finally sparks between them, she doesn’t hesitate to cross class lines. But Jane’s feelings about Eddie are thrown into question after she returns to the lake and reconnects with his alluringly intense brother, the dark horse of her placid summer plans. A fellow lover of music—and hater of the game—Fen Sarafian has been ousted from the family and is slumming it at a vinyl record shop. He burns for Jane like a house on fire and will do anything to sabotage his older brother, even if it means taking a wrecking ball to a multi-million-dollar music festival. Or Jane’s heart.

Title: SEE YOU YESTERDAY

Author: RACHEL LYNN SOLOMON (author of Today Tonight Tomorrow)

Release Date: MAY 3, 2022

A magical romance in the vein of Groundhog Day about a girl forced to relive her disastrous first day of college—only to discover that her nemesis is stuck in the time loop with her. Barrett Bloom is hoping college will be a fresh start after a messy high school experience. But when school begins on September 21st, everything goes wrong. She’s humiliated by the know-it-all in her physics class, she botches her interview for the college paper, and at a party that night, she accidentally sets a frat on fire. She panics and flees, and when she realizes her roommate locked her out of their dorm, she falls asleep in the common room. The next morning, Barrett’s perplexed to find herself back in her dorm room bed, no longer smelling of ashes and crushed dreams. It’s September 21st. Again. And after a confrontation with Miles, the guy from Physics 101, she learns she’s not alone—he’s been trapped for months. When her attempts to fix her timeline fail, she agrees to work with Miles to find a way out. Soon they’re exploring the mysterious underbelly of the university and going on wild, romantic adventures. As they start falling for each other, they face the universe’s biggest unanswered question yet: what happens to their relationship if they finally make it to tomorrow?

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Fifteen Seconds.”

Warning: For graphic depictions of injury that are sort of gross

The senator's son lay on the cold hard floor of the brig. The tears had long since tried up and the abject terror of his situation had faded to a dull sense of panic. He lay on the ground, arms wrapped around his knees rocking back and forth as he stared at the wall.

He hadn’t meant for any of this to happen.

Maybe if he had just listened to his father, listened to his mother too and not taken the shuttle for a weekend gambling trip on the Tesraki home planet, maybe then he wouldn't be in this predicament. Maybe if he hadn’t gotten so drunk he would have seen them coming and been able to defend himself.

He squeezed his eyes shut, imagining all of his friends passed out back at the casino, probably unaware that he was missing. 

He looked down at his pathetic body covered in a flashy white suit and blue undershirt that had originally been designed to mirror the twenties for his outing, now it was rumbled and torn at the bottom, and his jacket was missing. He felt silly and stupid.

He wanted to go back home to the family mansion where it was safe and where the house staff would bring him breakfast in bed. He would have done anything, even tell his father that he was right, and that he’d behave. hell , he would even be happy to go to military school like his father had threatened on so many occasions. Anything to be away from where he was right now.

There was a rattling outside his cell, and he looked up to see two of the pirates standing outside his cell, the first the dark furred tesraki and the second a light-skin redheaded human with a crooked grin and bad teeth. He curled up further into the corner with a whimper. The human laughed, and the Tesraki flicked it’s ears, “not so cocky now are we Master Bauer.” he curled up with his head in his his hands and stifled a sniffle.

The other human laughed. It was an ugly sound.

“We have just sent word to your father Ten million credits for the safe return of his poor son, and no involvement with law enforcement or we shoot you out of the airlock.” The Tesraki leaned against the bars, “personally i want the money, but.” he jerked a thumb back at the read headed human, “Terry here wants to shoot someone out the airlock, so you better hope daddy comes through, or you will be experiencing a horribly painful death.” “Actually, it is likely he would pass out after 15 seconds and asphyxiate.” the human added 

The Tesraki glowered at him but continued on, “ANYWAY. We will leave you to your moping while we go wait for your father’s ransome. If he loves you enough he probably wont take too long. That is assuming that you were a good son and hes not GLAD that you got kidnapped by pirates.” The Tesraki looked at him thoughtfully, “Then again I am having my doubts. You are a little shit.”

Pier had to stifle a sob covering his mouth with his hand as the pirates laughed and turned away.

He begged his father silently to send the money, though doubts were beginning to weasel their way into his mind. He wasn’t a particularly good son. He had crashed multiple of his father’s vintage cars, stolen his new however car and wrecked that. He had brought police down on their family for drug charges, and forced them to pay thousands of dollars on court bills. He had lied and cheated and stolen He had maxed out seven credit cards, and his latest stunt had involved stealing his father’s shuttle to take his friends from private school out on a all expenses paid gambling trip to the Tesraki homeworld, where the age limit on both drinking and gambling was…. Well there was none.

He sobbed again, feeling his heart sink and knowing that his father would not come for him.

Why would he want him back after all the things that he had done.

Once upon a time it had all seemed like some big game, but now he could see that his past actions would be more than enough to guarantee his horrible and painful death.

Tears began to stream down his face again, and he was almost surprised to find that he had any left to give. No one was there, so he didn’t feel bad about his pathetic sobbing, and occasional whimpering for his mother. Maybe she could convince his father to come after him. Despite all the things he had done, he always had a good relationship with her. He admitted to himself now that he had used her love on multiple occasions to get him out of things he probably should have suffered as punishment, but despite that he knew their relationship was sound.

Please mother, please convince father to get me out of this.

He lay there in the darkness for who knew how long thinking about his parents and repeatedly begging them over and over to come save him. At first he expected the Tesraki to come in at any moment and release him into the waiting arms of his father’s security detail, but as the hours wore on, and the meals began to pile up by the door, his hope faded diminishing until he was dumb inside and knew that his father was not coming for him.

He had brought this on himself by being a horrible son, and he was going to suffer the consequences.

He fell asleep sometime during that night tears still wet on his face, only to wake up a few hours later to the sound of shouting and running footsteps. He sat up and tilted his head to the side listening as, in the distance, he heard the sound of gunfire, and the occasional body dropping to the floor.

He shifted and wobbled to his feet, walking over to the side of his cell and peering out with bleary eyes crusted with salt.

The screaming and yelling grew louder, but with one last loud BANG, everything seemed to go silent.

Then the voices started up again.

He leaned forward and thought that he heard the red haired pirate laughing in the distance.

He had no idea what was going on, but pressed himself further against the bars, trying to peer out into the hallway.

Things calmed down after that, and he was left alone again. 

He was just beginning to doze off to sleep, when the door to his cell was violently thrown open, and the Tesraki came marching into the room a look of absolute rage on his face.

Pier scrambled back into the corner of the room eyes wide as Terry followed behind. The man had a bandage on his cheek, and a gauze patch over one eye. His usual crooked grin had been replaced by a snarl of annoyance and anger.

The Tesraki stopped just before Pier, his fuzzy little hands balled into fists, “You…. you little bastard.”

Pier raised his hands as if afraid he was going to be struck, “I...I didn’t do anything.”

The Tesraki ignored him, “Your father could not follow one SIMPLE order, and now I am going to have to make an example out of you. The money would have been nice, but now Terry is going to get to live out one of his childhood fantasies”

Terry’s grin appeared again, and Pier screamed as the man reached forward and hauled him violently to his feet by the back of his shirt. He kicked and screamed and cried as he was dragged from the cell and out down the hall.

“I told your father not to get the authorities involved. I told him that if he loved you, than he was going to have to send the mone and forget any of this ever happened, but NO the man had to go out and do something stupid, and now we are all oing to come out with less because of this. I am going to lose ten billion and he is going to lose his only son.”

Pier screamed and tried kickin at Terry’s legs, which finally annoyed the man enough that he slammed pier up against the wall, a single massive hand clutched tightly around his neck. Pier tried to scratch as the man’s hands but he was rammed back against the wall until he saw stars.

His legs went limp and he was dragged the rest of the way down the hall.

“There is no use in fighting my dear boy. You are going to die in a way that not many humans have had the privilege. I think it might be less than a hundred. Either way it isn’t going to be pretty. Assuming there is air in your lungs those will probably rupture first, so you will suffocate, and then all the gasses will boil out of your blood because of the reduction in pressure. Sort of like getting the beds but very quickly. You will die very very quickly.”

Pier felt another sob coming on.

“I imagine that it is one of the most terrifying ways to die, staring up tat the stars overhead and underneath, exposed to temperatures below 400 degrees. Granted heat leaks out of your body slower in the vacuum of space so it actually isn’t the cold that is going to kill you surprise surprise.”

The Sick Tesraki Bastard seemed to be enjoying this, which Pier didn’t understand. He had plenty of Tesraki friends who he enjoyed hanging out with and while they tended to be a little bit greedy and weren't above counting cards, they would never think about killing someone in cold blood.

They made their way around the next corner, and into the docking bay where the rest of the crew was standing, and he was surprised to find another unfamiliar face, another prisoner.

At least that is what he assumed considering the man was kneeling on the ground with weapons pointed at his head.

Pier was thrown down next to the man as the pirates conversed among themselves.

He took the time to turn his head and look over at the other prisoner. The man turned to look at him and somehow managed a roguish and nonchalant smile, his blind hair sticking up in spiky tufts where drying blood caked through it. 

The man was dressed in a dark black undersuit designed to be worn with a space suit though the hood was down, and over his right eye he wore….. And eyepatch.

Pier’s eyes widened, and the corner of the man’s mouth twitched, “Ah, good to see you alive.”

“Y-your the guy from that movie.”

The man rolled his eyes, “yeah, I am the guy from that movie, but more importantly I am here to rescue you.’

Pier stared at him incredulously, and he felt his face go red with subtle anger, “Well you're doing a bang up job.” He snarled, “really, I am sure this is JUST how you planned it.”

Rather than looking offended or worried the man just shrugged, “No, no it actually went horribly wrong about two hours ago. Sort of one of those if it can go wrong it will go wrong things. Like it was a great plan and all but everything kind of went to shit all at once.” He glanced down to inspect his nails, “I was supposed to be able to get on the ship and sneak through to rescue you without any issues, but my suit malfunctioned and then my weapon malfunctioned and then the maps for this place were completely wrong, and etc etc. You know good times. Of course, I called in my crew for backup, but they probably won’t be here until it’s too late.”

Pier stared at him mortified, how was he so calm!

“Did my father send you?”

“Yes the Senator did send me.”

“And now we are both going to die because you fucked everything up?”

The man turned his head and frowned, “So negative. Are you like this all the time.”

“HOW CAN YOU NOT BE NEGATIVE WE ARE GOING TO DIE!”

The man just rolled his eyes, “Will you stop bitching for about five seconds. I am counting on the fact that I have used up all of my bad luck for today and all of my good luck is going to hit momentarily.”

Pier dropped his head into his hands. This IDIOT was going to get them killed. He was so mad at that moment that he couldn’t even cry about it.

“He should have just paid the ransom, not sent some asshole idiot to try and rescue me.” he moaned 

Adam snorted, “You think your father has that much money.” He barked a laugh and pier stared at him.

“What are you talking about?”

The man shook his head, “Listen kid, your daddy isn’t exactly good with his money, a trait that you, evidently inherited. He’s about a month away from declaring bankruptcy because guess what, his son keeps racking up a literal shitload of debt, but apparently he pawned off his family jules at some point in there to keep you all going because he doesn’t have the courage to admit it and actually start living below his means.”

Pier stared open mouthed at him, “And he told you this”

“No, but I got suspicious when he didn’t do exactly what you said he should be doing, so I had my team of accountants, Tesraki by the way run the numbers on his net worth and gross income and all of hie expenses. Tesraki are rarely inaccurate when it comes to money.”

“So this is my fault.” He squeaked 

The man rested a hand on his shoulder, “Not your fault kid. It's your parents fault for turning you into the manchild version of Veruca Salt.”

He was about to be offended, when their conversion was cut off by the Tesraki who moved forward grabbing the man by the air had tilting his chin back, “Admiral Vir, you know if the GA didn’t have a policy against paying ransom, I would toss the kid out of the airlock and use you instead, but unfortunately you are now both useless to me.”

The admiral didn’t look too concerned as he grinned at the Tesraki, “Yeah sucks to suck for you I guess.”

The Tesraki flattened its ears back against its head, “You seem rather chipper for someone who is going to die in the vacuum of space.”

Admiral Vir shrugged, “You know I’ve honestly had way worse days than this. It doesn’t even reach my top ten if I’m being honest. I would put it somewhere around eighteen or nineteen.”

The Tesraki smiled an evil smile, “Well why don’t we see if we can change that. Terry, throw them in the airlock.”

The big ginger moved forward and grabbed them both by the back of their shirts, hauling them to their feet. Pier screamed and kicked and begged and pleased, but Admiral Vir only put up a token amount of resistance, a sort of glassy smile on his face as he was led towards the airlock and shoved violently inside. The door slammed shut behind them and Pier threw himself at the door screaming and sobbing.

Admiral Vir stood and dusted himself off looking around the room with a half frown on his face.

He tilted his head suddenly and smiled, “Glad to see you guys could make it. Do you mind doing me a favor.”

Pier didn’t pay attention to the rest of the man’s instructions as he continued to scream.

After finishing what he was about to say, Admiral Vir glanced around at the room, and his face lit up with a huge smile as he proceeded to stretch his arms and legs as if he were about to run a 5k, “I have ALWAYS wanted to try this.” Pier was nearly shocked out of his state of panic as he turned to look at the Admiral, who walked over to the nearby wall and used his elbow to shatter the glass on a handheld fire extinguisher.

He pulled it out and looked it over, “You know, there really is no point of keeping a fire extinguisher in the airlock, all you have to do is open the doors and vent the fire into space, but I guess whoever McGyvered this piece of shit together had no idea what they were doing.” He glanced down at it, “I sure hope this thing works”

He pulled the pin just as lights began flashing overhead.

Pier sobbed.

Admiral Vir walked over to him, grabbing him around the arm and looking at him with one hard, green eye, “I need you to breathe out, son.”

“What! Why?”

“Just do it.”

“No you have to-”

He saw the look in the man’s eyes and guessed what was happening too late as he drew back a fist and underhand punched him in the gut so hard he nearly collapsed to the floor, all the wind completely knocked out of him in one loud woosh, and his diaphragm ceased to work.

He couldn't even squeak out his pain as the man grabbed him around his middle fire extinguisher in his left hand hoze in his right.

And then All sound was sucked from the world and he was violently thrown off his feat as they were sucked from the airlock and into the vacuum of space. 

His ears ruptured into violent pain as his eardrums were torn apart.

Sheer unadulterated panic set in as stars whirled above him black and dark.

One

He heard nothing, he smelled nothing, he tasted nothing.

He couldn't breathe.

He wasn’t as cold as he thought he should be but death surrounded him on all sides, his body exposed to the direct touch of infinity.

Two

The only thing he could feel was the tight pressure of the Admiral’s Arm around his waist.

Three

He looked up, feeling no sensation against his kin, since there were no air particles for him to move through. Looking up At Admiral Vir’s face, lips pressed tightly together one green eye wide and manic.

Four

His body tingled and the surface of his eyes and tongue began to bubble slowly

They were jolted back again, and a trail of white vapor vented into space below their feet.

Five 

His lungs screamed for air, the bubbling on his tongue and eyes increased in intensity.

 Six

His skin Hurt.

Seven 

He was sure he was going to pass out.

Eight

His entire body hurt.

Nine

Then the darkness passed over them, and his vision was obscured.

They slammed against something hard and then dropped to the floor as gravity engaged.

If he could have screamed he would have.

The light of the stars was blocked out, and though he couldn't hear it, he felt the burst of air across his skin as the airlock was pressurized.

He gasped.

And that’s when the pain hit him, Pure unreal agony. Fire across his entire body

He couldn't see, he couldn't hear.

***

Dr Krill rushed into the airlock with the entire team of medical staff behind him. The two bodies lay on the floor like bloated corpses, their skin mottled a horrible purple red. 

There was no way they were alive.

He threw himself down next  to Adam, nearly unrecognizable now, and was surprised to find his chest heaving up and down as he was still breathing. He reached up and pulled off the eyepatch as others rushed forward to cut away their clothing.

The mechanical green eye spun to look at him, undamaged by the vacuum of space.

Someone placed an IV while Krill worked eye drops into his real eye and more of the same solution onto his mouth, nose and tongue, so dry it was like sandpaper or worse.

One of the nurses had to leave the room as the mottled skin of the two bodies was too hard to stomach.

“Knock them out.” krill ordered.

Adam wheezed the rehydrating solution doing it’s work on his tongue and throat. Blood trickled from his mouth and nose as the water made its way inside.

“You STUPID stupid man.” Krill snarled at the body, as the mechanical eye rolled back into his head, “Stupid stupid stupid stupid human.”

Granted he knew Adam had had no other choice, but still… only humans could survive in the vacuum of space, but this was the price, the horrible, horrible price.

***

Full body bruising and a couple of stem cell treatments later and Adam was feeling pretty chipper for someone who looks like a cruised corpse. His skin was a light delicate shade or purple unevenly spotted in certain areas, and his eardrums were just beginning to heal with their advanced medicine, so he was like a deff old granny for the moment, but all the same he was doing pretty good.

Granted the same stunt pulled in the movie Titan AE had been way cooler, considering those two hadn’t suffered any of the side effects, but now he could say he survived the vacuum of space conscious and lived to tell the tale.

Which was pretty badass if he did say so himself.

Which, he did.

Smiling, his face hurting. He walked with young Pier down the walkway both of them stiff and soar, walking like the old grannies they were as deff as.

At the bottom of the ramp two very concerned looking parents rushed forward to greet their sun eyes widening in horror at the state of him, mottled purple skin and all.

Adam stopped a few feet away wishing he could go lay down.

The senator looked up at him, “What the hell did you do to my son! Adam shrugged, “Well I stopped us both from dying is what I did, though it wasn’t easy. On the bright side, your son is going to make a full recovery and have an awesome story to tell in the process.”

The senator looked like he was going to lose his damn mind, but the boy cut in, “Dad….” “Yes son, whatever you want, whatever you need?”

He paused, “A nap would be cool and….” He glazed back over his shoulder at Adam, “Maybe military school wasn’t such a bad idea after all.”

Adam grinned and the boys parents looked shocked  but turned away as their shiny black car arrived.

He continued to smile as he watched them drive away and didn’t hear Sunny as she came up behind him and rested a hand on his shoulder, “Are you ok.”

He continued to smile, through through his teeth he said, “Once they leave can you carry me inside, my soul hurts.”

***

Humans can survive 15 seconds in the vacuum of space.

We aren’t jealous of this ability. 

[wherearemyglassesbro]

The DNR au executions in order ✨ Dont read if it’ll make you uncomfortable :)

Murder #1: Alfred Jones is the first to kill. He’s overcome with the feeling of helplessness and can’t mentally handle being there. When Kumakuma gave everyone their first disguised motive, Alfred was pushed over the edge. His ‘motivation tape’ was a video of his parents’ farmhouse burning. It still isn’t clear if it was faked or real but that video hit Alfred like a ton of bricks. He kept up his cheery facade and decided to wait to make his move despite being desperate. He watched his classmates closely, just waiting to see weakness in them. He wouldnt go after a girl or someone bigger than him...He finally decided on Kiku. He was soft spoken and kept to himself so....He’d be easy to get to!! Around 3am, Alfred snuck out of his room and down the hall, knocking on Kiku’s door “Hey buddy uh....Look man I’m having trouble sleeping and I wanted to walk around a bit. Would you come with me? I don’t think it’s safe to walk around alone and I trust you”. Kiku is flattered and he agrees to walk around with Al. Little does he know, Alfred’s got a kitchen knife tucked into his jacket. They walk and walk, Alfreds getting fidgety. Kiku’s confused by his behavior but he understands that this place can make you feel jittery. They arrive at the second floor gate “Ok Alfred-san I think we should head back from here. I’m pretty tired, arent you-?” Alfred throws him against the gate, knocking the wind out of him which gives Al enough time to retrieve his knife and bury it into Kiku’s chest “I-I’m so sorry....I’m so fucking sorry...I don’t want this...I didn’t want to have to do this...But I need to get out of here....” he arranged Kiku’s body to make it look like he stabbed himself and runs away. Halfway back to his room he realizes that his shoes are bloody!! Shit!! So he takes them off to run the rest of the way back in his socks. He washes off his shoes and wears that same pair the next morning when everyone meets up for breakfast. Everyone realized that Kiku was gone way faste than Al expected and they split up into two groups to go find him......”Ding dong dong ding”....”A body has been discovered!!” And it begins.

Execution #1: Cannonball. Alfred Jones has been found guilty! Time for his punishment! His punishment for killing The Ultimate Gamer, Kiku Honda, is one final stunt! One exclusive show for his classmates! He’s the first to go so everybody buckle up! Alfred is stuffed into a Monokuma cannon! Wowie! The cannon is aimed at a huge target allllll the way across the room. The target is about a football field away. The canon starts to rumble...it gets louder and louder...Everyones freaking out!! And then, the floor opens! And Alfred is shot into a murky pool full of piranhas! Canonball!! His classmates are forced to stand and watch until there’s nothing left of their friend.

Murder #2: Tension rises after Alfred’s trial and execution because that was everyone’s brutal wake up call. This is very real. This is a game theyre forced to play. Kumakuma provides another motive only hours after the trial, calling everyone to the gym to present a stack of money! 20 million dollars to be exact! This is supposed to bribe the greedy ones into killing. Luciana Vargas begins to get cocky. She and Natalya start fighting. And I mean fighting. They scream, throw shit, all that! The others have to intervene most of the time too. It’s getting out of hand. And Nat can’t take it anymore!! Luciana likes to do her laundry at night so Natalya sneaks up on her...very quiet...She’s not wearing shoes, not even breathing as she approaches. And it’s all to easy. She snatched up a scarf and threw it around Luciana’s neck, brutally strangling her and whispering in her ear as she took her final breaths “You bitch...you slimy, nasty, fucking whore...I hate you...I hate you I hate you! I feel no remorse...You snake...You evil, cocky bitch...” The last thing Luciana sees is Natalya’s smiling face. Once she’s dead, Nat stuffs Luciana’s corpse into the washing machine and leaves. It takes three days for her to be discovered....Ding dong dong sing....and when she is, she’s discovered by Michelle of all people. Michelle faints and hits her head super hard on the ground, which makes this an even bigger ordeal. Everyone suspects Nat from the start since the two were fighting so much and the evidence all leads to her anyway. Luciana managed to rip out a few of Nat’s hairs so those were found at the scene....

Execution #2: Eye Of The Beholder. Natalya Braginskya has been found guilty! Time for her punishment! Her punishment for killing The Ultimate Designer, Luciana Vargas, is to face off against 10,000 bees! Natalya is placed in a giant glass bubble which is teetering on a ledge shaped like a hand. Bees are quickly pumped into the sphere! As Natalya struggles while shes being brutally stung, she makes the glass ball shift too much! And in doing so, she and the bees fall to their deaths, the glass ball crashing into the floor 4 stories below! She was beautiful! And her death made sure she would no longer be. Or...no longer...’bee’

Murder #3: it’s almost three weeks after Nat’s trial and none of the motives are working. Kumakuma has presented six motives and everyone has decided to stick to their friedship. That just won’t do. Kumakuma then decides to dig deep into everyone’s pasts, finding their darkest secrets. He slips a folder under everyone’s door...The secrets cause Francis to snap. He can’t take this anymore. Kumakuma is going to release his darkest secrets to the media in 48 hours if someone doesn’t kill. Oh god oh god oh no...Francis’s folder if full of secrets. He slept with a director, gave another actor food poisoning to take his role, drove over a coworker’s leg with a gold cart so they couldn’t perform, all sorts of awful things that he did to secure his career. Things that his poor mother didn’t know. That his sister didn’t know. No one was supposed to know any of this but...him. He couldn’t allow this to get out! This would wreck his family!!! He calmed himself down enough to draft a plan. He wrote out his entire murder plan from start to finish. It was foolproof. (Spoiler alert, it wasn’t). He caught Arthur in the hall as everyone was heading off to their rooms after dinner and guided him away where no one would see, sneaking him into the bath house. It was all coming together...This was going to work...Francis is the ultimate actor of course! He’s been working on Arthur from day one, flirting with him and being nice. He had a feeling that Arthur’s loyalty would come in handy!! Now it was time to put him to use. He and Art stripped and got in the hot tub, Fran made conversation and then offered to wash Art’s hair. Of course Art complied....Then Francis did what he had to do. He shoved Art’s head underwater and held him there. Art put up a good fight, he screamed and fought hard but in the end, Fran was just stronger and heavier so when he finally managed to sit on his head, it was all over for him. Francis didn’t bother arranging the body, he dried himself off and left the scene. He was very stealthy about his exit and he took the long way back to his room just to be sure. His downfall? He smelled like the soap from the bathhouse. That soap is only in the bathhouse. That was the one detail that got him. And when that detail was discovered, his cool facade started breaking, he’d never been so nervous before and even as the ultimate actor, he couldn’t mask his guilt forever.

Execution #3: The Stage Of Kings. Francis Bonnefoy has been found guilty! Time for his punishment! His punishment for killing The Ultimate Mathlete, Arthur Kirkland, is to put on one final performance! Francis is strapped into a chair in the middle of an ornate stage. He’s dressed as a king with the whole garb and crown. Above him are three chandeliers, one falls and hits the stage on either side of him, scaring the crap outta him and the final one lowers down....lowers down...until it’s right over his chair. And then BOOM!!! In one horrific movement, the chandelier falls on top of him and explodes!! BA BAM!! To signify the end of the performance, black and red rose petals fall from the ceiling and into the viewing area where the other students are and applause plays from the speakers.

Murder #4: Another motive has been presented. This motive is success. ‘If you kill someone and graduate, you’ll be guaranteed even more success than before. Your name will be everywhere, you’ll get many interviews and all kinds of publicity! Media coverage beyond your wildest dreams!!’. This sparked something in Berwald. Berwald has always been the rock of the group. He’s emotionally detached, intelligent and strong. He did very little in the actual trials but if he thought someone was wrong he’d say so. Berwald thought that he’d never be a suspect if he ever did commit something...All he had to do was disguise the crime scene. Plant hair. Contaminate evidence. Move things around. Anything he could to frame someone else! He had a plan. He would kill Matthias, the stupid dancer who he couldn’t stand to be around. Then he’d frame Carmen. He found a pair of the shoes she wore and took them from the supply room, keeping them for himself. It took awhile to get all of the supplies he needed. Tarps, tools from the art room, a bag of blood from the nurses office. Everything was coming together!!! This was going to work!! He could almost taste his freedom! He got too cocky. Berwald followed Matthias, who was blissfully unaware of what was happening, as he wandered around the school. He followed Matthias up to the 3rd floor and cornered him in the red room!!! But Matthias was too fast!! As Berwald went to hit him over the head, Matthias grabbed a Kumakuma bottle and smashed it over his head!! Berwald now had blood running down his face into his eyes! Matthias took this as an opportunity to snatch up another bottle, breaking that one on his head too! BAM!! After a THIRD hit to the head, Berwald fell to the ground and died. Matthias was horrified with what he had done...now he was standing in a puddle of blood, covered in Berwald’s blood...Even though this was technically self defense, he still killed him!! Oh no!!! He rifled though Berwald’s bag and managed to piece together the origional plan! He made bloody footprints with the girls shoes and dumped his own shoes (and the rest of Berwald’s bag’s contents) in hallway garbage can. Jittery and in shock, he made his way back to his room to shower. His biggest mistake was leaving a partial bloody handprint on his own doorknob.

Execution #4: ‘Dance Dance Execution!’. Matthias Kohler has been found guilty! It’s time for his punishment! His punishment for killing Berwald Ox, The Ultimate CEO, is to dance for his life! A ‘dance dance revolution’ machine is set up for everyone to see. Matthias is set up on the machine and must dance at the highest level in order to stay alive. He gets three chances, each misstep makes the machine go faster, demanding that Matthias dances faster. When he messes up the first time, buzzer rings out and strobe lights turn on. Now the his vision is obscured as he dances. The second time he messes up, he’ll hear a buzzer again and the sound of a roaring crowd is pumped into the room, making it harder for him to hear the song the machine is playing. The third time he messes up, the room goes silent, the machine stops and the lights come on all the way to reveal a giant, heavy, metal box dangling from the ceiling. The box then falls, crushing him and the ‘dance dance’ machine too.

“Murder” #5: The students have all been desperate to figure out the mystery of the school. They’ve gone to the bathhouse and student bathrooms countless times to formulate plans to sneak around. They’ve distracted Kumakuma, stolen things from different rooms, found a headmasters key tucked away in the library. They’ve been able to uncover the mystery of why there are 16 trial stands. There are 16 students. What the fuuuck???? They get ahold of Gilbert’s student file and within a day, a body is found. Ding dong dong ding!....Huh??? Everyone rushes to where they hear screams! Up on the 4th floor, slumped against the music room door is Gilbert Beilschmidt!!! The student they just discovered in the files!! His face is mutilated and a chunk of skin on his shoulder is missing. His file indicates that he has a tattoo there to commemorate his first gold medal. Everyone is now rightfully freaking out, everyone suspects eachother!! They go into the trial practically blind.

Execution....#5...?: The trial for Gilbert Beilschmidt’s murder is the most chaotic one yet. No evidence is making sense...But...One little detail. Michelle had gone to the bathroom alone that morning while everyone else was at breakfast at 7:15. And Gilbert’s death was around 7:30 so....She had plenty of time to go kil him and come back before breakfast was over at 9! After that fact came to light, everyone agreed that Michelle was the killer and...she was sentanced! Huh??? Michelle didn’t kill anyone!!! She just barely saved herself by posing the question: ‘Couldnt Gilbert have even killed by the mastermind? Not one of us?’. Everyone then quickly turned on Kumakuma, asking who controlled him. After an hour in the trial room, arguing and yelling, The real Gilbert showed himself in his true, mastermind glory! He admits to being part of the Ultimate Despair. The dead ‘Gilbert’ was just another corpse. A decoy. But the students figured him out. The trial continued long into the night as the students worked through the mysteries of the school, the tragedy, whats outside, all of it. Gilbert laughed and went along with it, encouraging despair to take over the students. “If you convict Michelle, I’ll allow you all to continue living here in peace! But if you convince me~ Well, you have to go. The second I die, the air purifiers will go off! And so will the fridges, air conditioner, water pumps, all of it! You’ll be forced to leave! Go out into that hopeless world you love so much and die there, motherfuckers~”

Execution #5: The Finale. The students all convince Gilbert, they stick together to the very end. Gilbert laughs and laughs, hitting the button to announce his own punishment. He whoops and hollers as he strides into the punishment room, happily straps himself onto a wheel with a target on it. The punishment begins! The wheel starts spinning. Slow at first then faster and faster and faster! Kumakuma robots throw knives at Mach speed, each knife hitting Gil in different places. Throughout his punishment, he laughs and hollers through the whole thing. The students think it’s worse than screams of pain....When hes dead they all get to leave....and see what’s outside...

((I hope this isn’t too rambly lmao alsoooo please don’t think I’m like....fucked up or something lmao aijssjkshdvs))

[introvertguide]

Bringing Up Baby (1938); AFI #88

The current film on the AFI list is touted as the most screwball of all screwball comedies: Bringing Up Baby, (1938). It is a film that was adapted for the screen with the great Katharine Hepburn in mind. According to the writers, it fit her personality and sense of humor well and, with the addition of a lovable Cary Grant, was the perfect comedy vehicle. And audiences at the time hated it. It was a total flop during its initial box office run, director Howard Hawkes was fired from the studio, and Katharine Hepburn was labeled box office poison to the point that she had to buy out her contract because the studio would not give her any more work. Now the film is celebrated as favored comedy from the old Hollywood era. AFI listed it as the #88 greatest American film and the #14 best comedy film. So is this movie any good? Audiences in different eras disagree so I wanted to find out for myself. First I want to do the usual review of the plot (although this is a screwball comedy and it isn’t intended to make any sense) so let’s get the bold warnings out of the way...

SPOILER ALERT!!! THERE REALLY ISN’T A LOT TO SPOIL IN A SCREWBALL COMEDY BUT I DON’T WANT TO GET YELLED AT!!! PER USUAL, YOU SHOULD JUDGE A MOVIE FOR YOURSELF SO CHECK THE FILM OUT BEFORE READING FURTHER!! Alright, moving on...

The film begins with a bumbling paleontologist named David Huxley (Cary Grant). He is a man consumed by his work, yet he is somehow engaged to be married to a woman that is seemingly obsessed with taking second fiddle to his job. For the past four years, he has been trying to assemble the skeleton of a Brontosaurus but is missing one bone: the "intercostal clavicle". He is also tasked with impressing a potential patron named  Elizabeth Random (May Robson), who is considering a million-dollar donation to his museum.

The day before his wedding, David meets Susan Vance (Katharine Hepburn) while attempting to solicit donations from the lawyer of Ms. Random. Susan callously plays the wrong ball which distracts David from attending to his potential patron and then she stubbornly wrecks David’s car while she tries to get to her own vehicle. Later that night, she distracts David again while he attempts to have a drink with the man from the golf course and the encounter ends up with both characters tending to ripped clothes in public. Susan seems to like to cause trouble and believes that her traits are fun. These qualities soon embroil David in several frustrating incidents.

The next day, Susan's brother Mark has sent her a tame leopard named Baby from Brazil. Its tameness is helped by hearing "I Can't Give You Anything But Love". Susan ignorantly thinks David is a zoologist and manipulates him into thinking she is being attacked by the animal. He does not call the police but goes to Susan and she bullies him into joining her in moving the leopard to her country home. Complications arise when Susan falls in love with him and tries to keep him at her house as long as possible, even hiding his clothes, to prevent his imminent marriage.

David's prized intercostal clavicle is delivered, but Susan's aunt's dog George takes it and buries it somewhere. When Susan's aunt arrives, she discovers David in a negligee. To David's dismay, she turns out to be potential donor Elizabeth Random. A second message from Mark makes clear the leopard is for Elizabeth, as she always wanted one. Baby and George run off. The zoo is called to help capture Baby. Susan and David race to find Baby before the zoo and, mistaking a dangerous leopard from a nearby circus for Baby, let it out of its cage. 

David and Susan are jailed by a befuddled town policeman, Constable Slocum (Walter Catlett), for acting strangely at the house of Dr. Fritz Lehman (Fritz Feld), where they had cornered the circus leopard. When Slocum does not believe their story, Susan decides the best cover would be to tell the police that they are members of gang. This distracts the police long enough to allow her to escape to go and find Baby to prove she and David are innocent. The potential patron Ms. Random comes to the jail to free Susan and is embroiled in the plot when she talks about her leopard and is locked up. Eventually, the lawyer/golf partner  shows up to verify everyone's identity. Susan thinks she found the correct leopard but unwittingly drags the highly irritated circus leopard into the jail. David saves her, using a chair to shoo the big cat into a cell.

Some time later, Susan finds David working on his dinosaur skeleton alone. He was dumped by his fiancée because of Susan and he is now single. He did not get the donation but finds that Random gave the money to Susan and now Susan wants to donate the money to the museum. David confesses that his time with Susan was the best time he has ever had and that he loves her. At this point, Susan inadvertently destroys the dinosaur that David has worked on for 4 years because she won’t listen to David’s warnings. He gives up and kisses Susan, resigned to the life that will come with loving this woman. The end.

After watching this film, I did some research and I can see why Hepburn was labeled box office poison following this movie. She apparently ruined many of the takes for this film which cost a lot of money. What is more, the director and the lead actors had overtime clauses in their contracts so everyone was paid about double what was initially agreed upon because of the actors fooling around. The film might have broken even or perhaps had a modest gain, but Hepburn caused extra costs to the production to the point of major financial loss. This was a point of lean times in America, so an actor that commanded hefty pay, caused expensive delays, and did not draw in a big audience was poison to a studio. She obviously went on to do great things for film and this work was eventually embraced by audiences, but Katharine Hepburn needed to be humbled and the reaction to this movie did just that. 

I was surprised that there was a real leopard (tame of course, but still) on set with the actors. There were some shots in which the actors were filmed separately from the animal and everything was overlaid, but there were many scenes with the actors directly interacting with the leopard. Most famously, Hepburn’s character was talking on the phone while the leopard walked around her legs and the animal started to get rough with her feet. If you watch Hepburn’s face closely, she is not smiling but has darting eyes watching closely over the big cat. Apparently, the leopard lunged at Hepburn at first meeting and she did not really like the animal.

So let me get to the point of my personal feelings about the movie. I have watched it twice for this review: once straight forward and once with commentary by Peter Bogdanovich. I have looked at the reviews as well. It didn’t help. I and both my parents hated this movie. We have watched 41 movies on the AFI top 100 so far and this has been unanimously our least favorite. We do not like screwball comedies and this is famously “the most screwball of all screwball comedies.” I will not say that this film is bad because it obviously has a ton of fans, but I subjectively hated it. Let me explain before I get the hate mail.

Susan Vance is my kryptonite. She is a bullying socialite that does not care about anyone but herself and only does what she wants. She is manipulative towards a guy that just wants to build his dinosaur, and she wrecks his relationship, affects his job, ruins his car, endangers his life, and destroys his work. For some reason, in the movie world he falls in love with her for it. Susan Vance is the kind of person that has affected people negatively since forever. I guess it is funny because it is relatable? “Yeah, I have had my life ruined by human bulldozers like that. Wouldn’t it be funny if that person took a personal interest in plaguing me at every turn?” I am an introverted nerd and I have been harassed by the Susan Vances of the world. I don’t find them funny and actively avoid people like Susan Vance. I don’t want to see them in my movies, especially as the hero/love interest.

What hurt me was that Katharine Hepburn was apparently like this in her behavior at the time. She would talk off camera during filming and ruin takes. She would ad lib lines that she thought were funny and goof around with Cary Grant costing the studio hundreds of thousands and lots of lost time. It sounds like she was simply oblivious to the efforts of others. Her behavior as an actress and the character in the movie should not be rewarded. In film world, this bull in a china shop still gets her man. In the real world where a nation is recovering from a devastating financial crisis and facing a possible world war, nobody wants to see that garbage. As was appropriate, everybody got fired and the audience did not want to shell over their money. I am glad the film flopped and say it was deservedly so.

OK. I got that off my chest so let me now set aside my personal bias and answer the standard questions more objectively. Does this film belong on the AFI 100? Yes. It is maybe the best example of the screwball comedy of the 30s and, according to the Bogdanovich commentary, is a great example of the quick pace dialogue with double meaning that defined the time. I also think it is good to remember what happens when actors completely disregard their employers and their audience. Even the great Katharine Hepburn had to make a comeback when her audience turned on her. The placement of the film very low on the list seems appropriate to me as well. So then...would I recommend it? Subjectively, heck no. I found the movie frustrating to the point of being angry. Objectively, yes. A lot of people find whacky antics funny and any fan of shows like The Honeymooners or I Love Lucy and movies with The Three Stooges or The Marx Bros would likely enjoy this film. It has a 90% audience rating on Rotten Tomatoes and Roger Ebert called it one of the 102 movies to see before you die since it is a perfect example of the genre. It seems like a movie most people would enjoy. Let me back pedal slightly and note that I have full respect for people who enjoy the film and I am glad cinema brings you some laughs. However, I hate the film with a passion and never plan on watching it again.

[justcallme-ryan]

Please Say Something

I’ve become recently obsessed with The Society on Netflix, and managed to binge all of it in two days. So… here’s this I guess.

Best friends since the third grade. We met at recess on the swing set. I’d sat across from him all year, but he had never talked to me before. He was always with his other friends, all of which I thought were dumb idiots, but he was different. Whenever he finished something early, he’d pull out a book from his backpack. Never in a million years would any of the jock asshats he hung around be within five feet of a book.

I was terrified to approach, but I did. I sat on the swing next to him, and for seven minutes we sat in silence. I nearly jumped when a simple, “Hi,” left his lips, having to catch myself from falling off the swing.

That word ended up going a long way. Before I knew it, we were talking about Harry Potter and To Kill a Mockingbird, and he was inviting me to hang out at the park that weekend.

It was fair to say I never really bonded with any of the other guys throughout the seven years of our friendship. Luke was alright, but the rest of them were brainless dweebs that I generally tried to avoid. I got occasional shit for stealing Grizz on weekends, but nothing too bad. He’d probably beat the shit out of them if he found out, and they knew it.

We continued on as we were--treating each other’s houses as our own, movie nights on Fridays, sleepovers every Saturday, etc.--until the start of tenth grade. Don’t get me wrong, we still talked, but it wasn’t the same. The heathens and him were getting benched less and less on the field, and suddenly everything was football. Friday night? Game night. Saturdays were for practice. Sundays the boys hung out together, wrecking any havoc on the town they could manage. Every day, it seemed that I got less and less important.

I had avoided most of the games since homecoming. It wasn’t really my scene, to say the least. My little sister and I had started doing movie night on our own, simply because she pitied me, but she had a sleepover this particular Friday night, leaving me with absolutely nothing better to do. Besides, Becca was begging me to go. She was a newfound friend from biology--just as Grizz was walking out, Becca had stepped in. She made that period bearable, at least, and gave me somewhere to sit at lunch.

And so I ended up at a New Ham football game, sitting at the very top corner of the bleachers with Becca and her friend Sam. She stood and waved as I looked up at the crowd helplessly from the bottom, and I rushed up the steps and took the seat next to her.

“Hi,” she said, moving her hand from her ear to in front of her body. I recognized the signal.

“Hello,” I said, doing it back. I continued to sign and speak, glancing back and forth between her and her friend. “Who’s this?”

‘My name is Sam,’ he signed.

“I’m Ryan,” I told him, holding out my hand to shake once I finished the motions. He took it, grinning.

“How do you know ASL?” Becca asked, looking between me and Sam.

“I have trouble processing words most of the time. It’s a lot easier to follow hand signals than trying to comprehend what someone’s saying,” I told them. “And I used to volunteer at a therapeutic riding center.”

“That’s cool,” Sam said, signing as he spoke. I smiled at his voice, unsure if I was going to hear it before.

“Why do you guys like these things?” I asked, glancing around. It was ridiculously loud, kind of outrageous, actually. People had gone as far as face paint, and everytime they got near the other team’s end of the field they’d all jump up and freak. “I don’t get it.”

“The food,” Becca replied, motioning beside her. There was a whole buffet between her and Sam. “The cheese fries are our favorite, but the deep fried oreos are a close second. Do you want some?”

“Sure,” I said. I took some of each thing mentioned, thanking them for sharing. I caught myself actually watching the game after a while, to my own surprise. I knew exactly which one was Grizz, and my eyes followed him the whole time he played. At halftime, he took his helmet off, revealing his god like face, which was framed by his terrible bowl cut that made me want to kiss him.

Fuck, I was so in love with him.

“What happened to you guys?” Becca asked when it was nearly over.

“What?”

“Come on, Ryan, a year ago you two were practically inseparable. Did you fight?”

“No,” I replied, my eyes still trained on Grizz. “I guess football just became more important than me.” Becca didn’t push for anything more. After the game, they offered me a ride home, but I brushed them off and rushed down the stairs. I was headed for the boy’s locker room, but froze just as I was about to enter. What if he didn’t want me there? What if Jason kicked me out, literally?

“Hey,” someone said, making me physically jump this time. I knew it was him before I even looked up. “Whatcha doing out here?”

“Waiting for you,” I replied.

“Oh. What’s up?”

“I… don’t know,” I chuckled nervously, looking up into his eyes. My God, if I got a quarter for every time I nearly drowned in them…

“There’s, uh, a team dinner in a little bit, and it’s technically team only, but I could bring you if you wanted.”

I thought about the glares from Jason and Shoe and grimaced. “Yeah, that’s probably not a good idea.”

“I don’t really want to go,” Grizz admitted, looking up at me with a gaze that could split my heart in half. “If you came it’d be bearable.”

“What if we don’t go,” I suggested, taking a step closer to him. “What do you say we go home and rent a movie like we used to?”

“I’d like that a lot,” he smiled. I grinned back, and he nudged me gently and started to walk towards the parking lot. I followed. “You know, I’m surprised you came.”

I climbed into the passenger side, waiting until I closed the door to respond. “I know it’s not exactly my scene, but I liked watching you play.”

“You wouldn’t come just for that.”

“I wouldn’t have before, no. Becca invited me tonight. But now, I dunno, I might.”

He didn’t reply, but I glanced over and saw the smile on his face. I couldn’t help but do so as well. The rest of the ride was quiet. At one point his elbow brushed against mine on the arm rest shared between us, and the instant warmth from his touch almost made me pull away, but I let the overwhelming want to stay take over.

Miss Visser was fairly surprised to see us as we entered the kitchen. “I thought there was an afterparty, Gareth. It’s good to see you Ryan, you haven’t been around as much lately.”

“We decided to come back and watch a movie instead,” Grizz told her, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl. I followed suite.

“Take a shower first,” she told him, wrinkling her nose. “You’re sweaty.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Grizz waved her off, turning out of the kitchen towards the stairs. I followed him up to his bedroom, where he stopped in the middle of the room and looked around a minute, then turned to me. “I, uh, do have to shower real quick, but you should pick out a movie while I’m in there. Anything under five dollars to rent is fair game.”

“Okay.” I shut the bedroom door, and he turned to the door at the other end of the room leading to his bathroom. Once he disappeared, I took a look around, taking in all the changes. A lot of it was the same, except most of the posters on his wall had been taken down, including the Footloose one that we had each bought one of. I stepped closer to his desk. Front and center, and framed, was a picture of him and the boys in their football gear--but right behind it was the plethora of pictures of Grizz and I. A huge grin took over my face as I scanned all of them, wishing we could go back to the good old days. When it was just the two of us, and I didn’t have this stupid crush. Or, well, before I realized it was a stupid crush.

I grabbed the remote from the TV stand and went to sit on the right side of his bed, turning it on and scrolling through Amazon for a movie. Grizz came out moments later, a towel wrapped around his waist. I kept my eyes focused on the television when it dropped, waiting for him to sit down beside me to glance over at him.

“What’d you find?”

“Perks of Being a Wallflower,” I responded. “I read the book in like, seventh grade, but I’ve never seen the movie.”

“Me either,” he said. “Good choice.”

I smiled and hit play, resisting the urge to lean over slightly to be closer to him. I had wanted to watch the movie for nearly a year, but I found it kind of hard to focus with Grizz so close. In the months I hadn’t really seen him, I’d forgotten how impossible it actually was to be with him. Holy shit did I want to kiss him, and now Patrick was kissing Brad in the movie, and I couldn’t help but look over at Grizz.

He was looking at me too, and my heart jumped in my chest. I moved to look away, and so did he, but we both noticed and froze. I wanted to say something, but it felt as though my throat had closed up, leaving no room for words to get out. Nothing but him seemed to matter in that moment, everything else was drowned out into nothingness. The only thing I could hear was the mad beating of my heart, which only got worse as he leaned in slightly, and then stopped.

I watched him desperately, looking between his eyes and his lips, but suddenly he pulled away, sitting upright and staring directly at the screen, muttering something under his breath.

“What?” I choked out, not catching what he said.

“Nothing.”

I couldn’t pay attention to the rest of the movie. My eyes were locked onto the monitor, but the pictures flying by meant nothing to me. My stomach was in my throat, my heart sunk into my gut. I wished I had never come to the game that night. I wished I had never sat on the swings that day. None of it was worth this. Any good leading up to that moment couldn’t counter the slicing pain throughout the entirety of my body.

The movie ended eventually, but neither one of us went to turn off the TV. I didn’t want to look at him, didn’t want to move from the half curled ball I had made myself into.

“Ry,” he whispered, ten minutes after the end credits had finished. I didn’t move. “Ry, please say something.”

“I’m going home,” I said, shocked at how sure I sounded. I put in all the effort I could muster in standing up and making my way to the door.

“I’m sorry, okay?” he cried, jumping up and moving in front of me, putting himself between the door and me. “I… I didn’t mean to do it, I don’t know what came over me… Or, no, I do know, but I-I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry.”

I looked at him a second, the pain on my face mixing with confusion. “You think I’m mad because you almost kissed me?”

“I swear, I’ll never try something like that again if you just stay-”

“I’m mad because you pulled back, Grizz,” I whispered, cutting him off. “I’m upset because I thought you didn’t want to. You didn’t want me.”

He took a step towards me, taking my face into his hands. I tried to pull back, knowing I was about to cry, knowing I was about to be rejected, but he tightened his grip slightly, forcing me to stay. I looked up into his eyes as a tear came loose, begging him silently to let me go. “Ry, I’ve wanted to kiss you since seventh grade.”

“What?”

“Fuck, I stayed awake every time you spent the night to make sure I wouldn’t unknowingly wrap myself into you. I had to force myself to hold back from any chance I had to kiss you for four fucking years, Ryan, do you know how hard that was? I-fuck, I’m so hopelessly fucking in love with you.”

“Grizz-”

“I’m sorry if this ruins anything. I’m sorry for staying away. I just, I thought my mom was starting to suspect it, and I couldn’t contain my feelings around you, and even though it hurt like hell I thought it was better to lose you that way than for you to hate me for this-”

“Grizz, I love you too.”

“I-wait, what? You do?” His face broke into an adorable smile, and I had to physically keep myself from just kissing him then.

“Shit, Grizz, how oblivious are you? At least you were good at hiding it.”

“I am not oblivious, you were good at it too,” he chuckled, swatting my arm playfully. I reached up quickly and grabbed his hand before he could pull back, and before I knew it he had engulfed me in a hug. “Stay,” he whispered in my ear, clutching me tighter. I could sense the fear in his voice. He thought that I was still going to leave. “Stay, and let me hold you tonight. I’ve been dreaming about this since the fucking sixth grade.”

“There’s nothing I’d want more,” I whispered back, pulling out of the hug just enough so I could see his face. He leaned in before I could, and then we were kissing, both of us entangled in one another in a way that we had never been before.

I’d keep that night with me for the rest of that year, and the next. But then, one day, he was gone.

[erintoknow]

The dead mouse at your doorstep

Fallen Hero: Rebirth fanfiction! set after the end, before the in-progress sequel

“Ortega, what is it? I’m kind of in the middle of something right now.” You hiss into your suit’s headset as you scramble under the barricade.

“Are you okay there?”

“I’m fine. It’s fine. Everything’s fine here. We’re fine. It’s fine.” The ground rattles as a screeching metal beam crashes through the floor behind you. The lights flicker for a second then go out. In the distance you hear people scream and shout. There. That should buy you some time.

“Woah– hey, uh, Ari, what was that noise?”

“Things are a little… hectic at work right now. This really isn’t the best time.” You run through your escape path in your head as you make sure the bag clipped to your waist belt is secured.

“I thought you said you worked at a repair shop.”

“Look Ortega, some things are more–“ There’s another crashing of metal through drywall behind you. Load bearing drywall? Really? Shoddy construction job. “–more resistant to fixing than others. You know how it is.” You put your best upbeat smile into your voice, willing Ortega to accept it at face value.

That gets a laugh out of her. “Yeah, don’t I know it.”

You cut her off before she can press you again. “Look, I really gotta go.”

“Uh-huh. Are we still on to meet at the park this afternoon?” You’re going to have to really work on an explanation to explain this away later..

“Y-yeah, sure, 3 o’clock? Great-see-you-then-bye.” You end the call, count to ten, and then make a run for it. 

———

“So, this isn’t what I had planned on talking about; but you’ll never guess what happened this morning.” Ortega looks at you, leaning in, an edge to her smile.

You look back over the rim of your milkshake, straw in your mouth. “Mm?”

“You remember Pennybags?”

You drum the side of the glass with your fingers, making a show of thinking back. “The magnetic guy?”

Ortega nods. “Yeah. Big bank robber, stole a bunch of things from the old Rangers HQ too, remember?”

You nod, grimacing. “Yeah, that was a mess.” Of course you remember. One of the few times you had actually seen Julia really upset.

“Well, did you see the news today?” Ortega leans in further.

You lean back, shaking your head. “I was a little busy this morning, remember?” Stupid, you berate yourself. Don’t call attention to it.

Ortega tilts her head, side-eyeing you. “Yeah, I still need to ask you about that.” She waves it off with a hand. “Anyway, there was this big complex that collapsed up in the mountains in Hidden Springs.”

You eyebrows shoot up, practiced concern in your voice. “Oh geeze, an earthquake? Was anyone hurt?”

Ortega shakes her head, “That’s the weird part, no quake and most of the service staff were just hanging around outside when Steel and I got there. I tried talking to them, apparently everyone just felt… compelled to go talk a walk at the same time.”

You frown, why had they all gone back? “That’s… kind of spooky,” you say aloud.

Ortega gestures with a fry as she speaks, “You think that’s spooky, turns out, this is where Pennybags has been held up the past nine years, can you imagine? Stole millions of dollars and then vanishes so he can spend a decade playing stockbroker out in the sticks.”

You take another sip of your milkshake before saying anything, “So… you found Pennybags then?”

“Not yet, but he might be still be in there, Ground sonar shows an intact safe-room under the rubble. They’re still digging out the mess to get to it.” You take another sip of your milkshake to hide the possible smile. It had taken a lot of effort to leave only the single path.

But still, would it really be so bad if Pennybags… didn’t make it? Your smile wilts and you shift your arms under your poncho, always uncomfortably warm in the California heat. “Shouldn’t you be up there then?”

Now it’s Ortega’s turn to make a face, “Steel’s overseeing the effort.”

“Doesn’t trust you?” You ask, innocently.

Ortega’s response surprises you however, how her shoulders slump a little. “Maybe the right call in this case.” After a few more fries, she picks back up, “You’ll never guess how we know it’s Pennybags down there though.”

“Voice of god? Welcome sign? Villains Weekly magazine subscription?”

“Good guesses, but no.” Ortega’s smirk melts back into a frown. “Right outside what would have been the entrance someone left a folder… and an action figure.”

“An… action figure.” You repeat, skeptically.

“The signed Marshall Hood figure Pennybags stole actually. And the folder was full of all the photographs he’d taken from us too.”

“Oh.” You say. You hadn’t expected her to actually talk about this.

“I… don’t really have a lot left of him. I thought I’d lost these for good.”

“I remember.” You remember seeing the front door of its hinges, running through wrecked room after room, finding an alarmingly sobbing Ortega. The first time you willingly hugged someone.

“There’s maybe five people who know about that figure, Ari, and two of them are dead now.” Ortega’s voice is quiet, her hand on the table balled into a fist.

“What are you saying?” You whisper back, mirroring her tension with your own.

“I don’t think that building collapsed on its own. No, I think that new villain did this.” Ortega looks at you, questioning. “I just can’t figure out why.”

“Do…” You fish for an idea, “do you think they’re trying to send you a message?” 

Ortega looks you straight in the face, half-eaten hamburger now completely forgotten. You wish she wouldn’t. “A message? For what?”

You look back, willing yourself not to look away, not to look guilty. “I don’t know… I mean, it’s no secret you and Hood were close, is it?”

The look on Ortega’s face only intensifies. “You think maybe it was a threat?”

Your face blanches, and shake your head. This is not going how you thought it would. “I’m not in this game anymore, remember?” You shrug your shoulders theatrically, “for all I know it could be a love letter.”

The absurdity of it gets a laugh out of Ortega and you both relax a little. “Mierda,” she shakes her head. “That’s a hell of a way to send a letter.”

[alfredosauce50]

Who’s the bad guy? (1p + 2p America x reader) 8

Wordcount: 2,953 The reader is referred to as she/her

"We're gonna go crash Alfred's."

A mushy, cookie-dough-like substance began falling out of the blonde's mouth as it separated wide open to gawk at Allen. Falling onto the marbled counter like wet sand, you were also too shocked to even realize the mess he was making. Allen approached this situation so calmly that it was odd, but the pain that was bleeding out of his eyes was so clear. He never meant for this to happen, he would rather die than let this event take place on his timeline. Unfortunately for him, you would be in imminent danger if he wasn't around to protect you. A tense silence fell around you three after his bold statement, but it was Alfred's explosion of excitement that finally crushed the ice that had formed.

"We are?" He started with uncertainty. Azure eyes wide with disbelief, they melted into a luminous shine of joy when he watched his cousin nod slowly. "Holy shit, we are!" Alfred then exclaimed, spinning on his heel to spit the remainders of chewed up cookie-bit in the bin. Thrown into an overdrive of euphoria, he could feel his wounds pound to the rhythm of his speeding heart. 

Shrilling like a child, he hopped off the chair and started dancing all around you two, his contagious energy feeding off to you and spreading a beautiful smile on your face. Soon, the two of you were jumping on the spot and squealing like a bunch of children, much to Allen's displeasure.

Alfred couldn't even begin to start on the thoughts that were running through his head, picturing the millions of perfect dates he could take you out in the city. This was the perfect, golden shining opportunity to sweep you off your feet again with his riches, and to hopefully make up for the stolen kiss. As he was squeezing the life out of you to where you enthusiastically returned the favor, his thoughts then drifted off to the redhead staring at them with a tensed expression. He loved what was going down and had to thank Allen for this, but he had to ask, why? Allen suddenly sprung up with a drastic change of plans, to bring the party over to Alfred's place. Aligning perfectly with Alfred's wants and needs, it was the absolute opposite of what he'd want, but he still insisted.

Allen was brought up in the dirty slums of New York, the only luxury being to have you. If he moved to the towering skyscrapers where Alfred lived, even temporarily, Alfred would be granted a major advantage on his turf.

Those best friend privileges wouldn't even be up to par with half of what Alfred had to offer.

On the other hand, you were consumed entirely with excitement, the mere idea of visiting the lavish world you never thought you'd ever see making you shake with anticipation. You've never really left this small microcosm of a city let alone rise from the chains of poor financial standing, and now you were just slapped with the face with an opportunity too. Blessed with the best tour guide there was to offer, a door just opened up for you to infinite possibilities. Your head was even beginning to hurt with all the places you wanted to see.

You felt like you could do anything with Alfred.

After the ruckus simmered down, you insisted for him to visit the hospital. The effects of uplifting plans lingered its hands over the two of you, however, and he shot down that offer with an ear-to-ear grin. "Haha, fuck that. We have something to plan!" He sang.

You couldn't agree more. Nodding whimsically, you let out another contented sigh. "Yep! I can't wait to go to your place!"

Those were the words he needed to hear to confirm that he had in fact won- and that Allen had lost. As the two of you basked in high spirits in the living room, Allen's soul was sucked out of his body. He grit his teeth and left, storming to his bedroom and slamming the door behind him. It sent the whole house shaking in a rattling tremor, and the two of you could feel the strong vibration pound against your feet. Your heart sank and you flinched at the explosion of noise that just made your eardrums burst, jolting to the door with a weary expression. "Oh-" You uttered out, "That scared me..." You lingered your gaze over the door for a moment.

All the festive mood was gone in a bang, but Alfred thought otherwise. Turning you to face him, he shot you a bright smile with his hands rubbing soothing circles on your shoulder.  Even with his face bruised in blotches of black and blue, you could only see his dazzling, million dollar smile and shining cerulean eyes behind his glasses. "He can be loud sometimes, can't he?" He laughed, licking his lips. "He's really wild."

You managed a soft smile. "Yeah, that's what I love about him..."

You sighed almost dreamily. That was a heavy understatement; absolutely crazy for his unpredictable and fierce personality. Impulsive but wild at heart, you really couldn't tell at all what was going to be held in the future for you two. Yes, he was your best friend whom you loved dearly and his antics were to die for, but there were still such things like boundaries existing. Him lashing out on Alfred was way past the line.

"... But... What he did to you was way far out of line. I really think he would have killed you if I hadn't stopped him..." You whispered. "I just can't believe it."

Sniffing a little, you kept your head low.

"... Yeah... I can't believe him either." Alfred admitted. Was his jealousy that intense that it sparked such rage to consume him? "Maybe he just got really mad when I... You know..."

The both of you lit up in a glowing red blush like Christmas lights.

Coughing awkwardly, you glanced away from him. "Uh... Yeah... I don't know why he turned out to be that angry..."

Although you were oblivious, the blonde was aware of Allen's feelings for you.

"And I think he still is..." Alfred sighed. "He's probably breaking shit inside."

You frowned, facing the door that just radiated waves of dark energy.

"... Oh dear..." You swallowed thickly. "I think I might let him cool off for a bit. You wanna go watch something on Netflix?"

"Sure!"

Allen's P.O.V:

Reducing to tears faster than he ever could imagine, he ran over to his dresser with his hands ready to wreck havoc. He shot them out quickly with a flaming hot face trailing with tears, ready to push everything off onto the ground. Before he could even lay a finger on anything, he stopped himself abruptly. Allen almost forgot that you were still sharing the room with him; it flew right past his head after witnessing the horrors of you being happy with another man.

He resorted to strings among strings of curses, struggling to keep his voice down with the fury licking around inside him. Overwhelmed with grief, rage and stress, he fell on his bed hunched forward to let the fat balls of tears dot the carpet. His world had just crashed at his feet. He should've known to not speak of Alfred's name. Now you were all over him for the millions he could offer that Allen couldn't.

That night, he covered himself up in the sheets and turned off the lights early. You joined him a little later with a soft smile dazzling on your lips, but at the moment you stepped into the room it faded. Slipping into the bed, you slept on the other side with a considerable amount of space separating your two bodies. Still weary that Allen might be fuming, you kept your distance with him just in case he snapped again. As much as you wanted to tap him lightly on the shoulder to wake him up, you held back that urge and just waited.

A line of cold formed in between you two, no man's land, a place where neither of you dared to cross. The silence in the darkness was almost sinister, and as if to taunt him even more in the predicament he caught himself in he could hear the quiet's deafening shrills of laughter jeering at his misery.

Facing away from each other throughout the night, his body was aching to touch you. Your soothing, soft skin that he could embrace for hours on end and not let go.

Why were you just laying there, instead of sleeping inside his arms like you usually would? Unfortunately, the tense ambience was too hard for you to even try to get close.

How did it end up like this?

Forcing himself to fall asleep, he wasn't prepared to face the manifests of his inner consciousness. Blinking his eyes open that were coated with a layer of rust, the rumbling of motorcycles and distant shouting buzzed in his ears. The soft ring of the doorbell faded as the glass door closed, one of the regulars leaving with a satisfied expression with his usual bag of dog pellets. Standing in front of him was you, in the flesh with a comforting smile dancing on your lips.

"Allen, are you okay?"

Your sweet voice called his name so tenderly. Biting his lip, he rested his hands on his hips and scoffed. "Yeah, I'm great."

Narrowing your eyes with a skeptical glint, he watched you with awe as you walked up to him and patted his back. Peering up at him with a softened gaze, he melted into your warm eyes. "Come on Al, just tell me what's so spiteful about him. I'll help you out."

He flickered his eyes over to you and the intimidating glare engraved in his features faded. Fixated with your beautiful face, everything around him disappeared into a blur of color. "My cousin's getting the upper hand. I'm scared, (F/N)." Allen whispered with trembling lips. "He's going to steal you away. He's going to give you things that I can't give you."

You smiled at him sadly and took his hands, swaying him gently from side to side. "Oh, but Allen... You're my best friend. Nothing in the world can replace you."

Shaking his head furiously from side-to-side, he stared at you desperately with red irises glazed all over. "No, baby. Alfred can. You don't want me anymore." He murmured with shaky breaths. Allen couldn't even see you anymore, but the blurred blotches of color and an outline of your form. Swallowing thickly, he hung his head low. "... I'm only going to hurt you if I stay. I'm violent, I'm angry all the time, I'm a freak."

His heart sank when he felt your fingertips brush against his cheek.

"Because of the shit I do, you're gonna get hurt. I'm so sorry, baby." He continued airily, shaking his head. "Luciano's on the hunt for you because he knows that I love you."

You chuckled softly, wiping away the single tear that trickled down his face. "Then that's why I need you."

Allen couldn't control the endless stream of tears running down his face. "(F/N)..."

"Protect me."

Jolting awake with a gasp, his pupils dilated as he shot up from the bed. It took him a while to realize that it was nothing but a dream, hitting him with a sharp pang of disappointment. They say you would forget around ninety-percent of your dream, and he did. It drifted out of his mind as he slowly gained back his orientation, but that sensation of melancholy still remained to loom over him like a dark cloud. Rubbing his eyes roughly, he glanced over to his side to see your sleeping form and back rising and falling at a steady pace. The way how peace would settle on your features was angelic as you slept. Allen just couldn't pass up on the chance to give you a good morning kiss.

"Good morning, dollface..." He cooed softly, leaning in to press his mouth to your forehead with longing.

His lips that grazed so lightly over your skin caused your eyes to flutter open. You met with him smiling down at you, his strong and tanned arms decked with tattoos thick with muscles as they supported him on his side. Shifting on the bed to inch closer to him, you nuzzled into his chest and wrapped your arms around him much to his surprise.

"(F/N)?" He whispered huskily.

"Mhmm?" You hummed.

You continued to press your face into him, making his heart flutter at how adorable you were acting. "What are you doing?"

Rolling your eyes up to him, you smiled. "I'm hugging you, dummy."

Why?

"... But aren't you mad at me for what I did yesterday?" He asked.

You scoffed. "Of course I am, idiot. You nearly killed Alfred."

The redhead smirked and lowered his hands to your back, caressing it gently. "Aren't you glad that I didn't?" He spoke lowly. He was mentally slapping himself from keeping up his smug attitude instead of an apologetic one. Sweat consumed his forehead as he dreaded your response to his antics once again.

A sigh left your lips that were upturned in a smile. "Yeah, I am. I hate myself for not being mad at you."

Allen felt a rush of relief to come flowing in at your smile. "That’s because you love me too much to stay mad at me." He chuckled.

"... I guess that’s true." You murmured, much to his delight. You also wanted to add in how much you missed him, but you thought that he didn't deserve all of your forgiveness, not just yet at least.

You pulled away from his hold, turning your back on him to go over to your pile of bags sitting in the corner. He watched you from the bed, laying on his side with his muscles popping due to the lack of a shirt. As he admired you bent over to tend to the bags, he couldn’t help but lock his eyes on your behind. "Heh..." He breathed. "Whatcha look’n for in your bags?"

You zipped everything up and looked at him. "I’m not looking for anything. I’m just making sure that I have everything."

"For what?"

You rolled your eyes. "Alfred’s place? Did you already forget?"

He inhaled sharply with widened eyes. "Shit fuck- I totally forgot!" He hissed, throwing the blankets off of his legs to go charging at his dresser. You could only cackle at his forgetfulness, calmly tending to your belongings as he ripped open one compartment after the other, salvaging any clothes he came across. Chucking them into a large duffel bag, he finally finished when you popped out of the bathroom.

"You all set?" Allen asked, sitting on the bed like he had been waiting there forever.

Your lips stretched into a smile touched by excitement.

"Let’s hit the road."

***

Once you stepped into the polished Cadillac that was set alight under the hot orange sunrise, you knew you were be going in for an adventure for a lifetime. The scent of leather immediately overwhelmed your nose, the backdrop noise fading away into the faint beeping of the car. After buckling on your seat belt, you were absorbed with the wonders of the vehicle's inner works with fascination swirling in your eyes. You've never seen, let alone touched something so luxurious. You traced your fingertips along the window, completely captured by every little detail of everything, all the way down to the little sockets that were supposed to hold miscellaneous items.

The whole vehicle dipped to the side when your travel-buddy entered the car. Allen scooted next to you and clicked on his seat belt, leaning back to cross his arms with closed eyes. Even though all he saw was black, he could imagine the expression radiating off your face as vivid as a dream. "First time riding first class?" He chuckled.

You nodded with a wide smile. "Yes... This is amazing." You whispered, your attention snatched by something, or someone, who was worth millions more than the Cadillac itself. With some special cream and medical attention flown in from his private jet, everything successfully healed and the bruises faded away like magic overnight. Climbing into the driver's seat, he flicked on his black shades feeling his lips stretch into a wide smile. A classic American one. "Are we all ready to go?" He asked, fixing his rear-view mirror.

Poking your head out of the window for one last time, you met with the striking red irises of your blonde friend. You stuck your hand out and waved at him. "Bye Flavio! Thanks a lot for volunteering to keep my store open by the way!"

He shuddered and waved you off. "More like threatened." Darting his eyes over to the auburn-haired male sitting comfortably beside you, he clicked his tongue. "You're lucky I like animals..." He scoffed.

Allen coughed and rolled up the window. "Yeah, hit the gas."

Alfred hummed.

"Okey-dokey. Strap in and get comfortable, lady and gent, cuz' this is gonna be a long ride."

Allen guessed that he could put up with his cousin for a while... Only for you of course, because he knew that moving to his place for a while would provide you with some refuge from some lethal troublemakers in the dark. Leaving behind the ghetto Allen and you called home, the two of you were ready to forget the past and see the future - the towering skyscrapers and blinking lights in your wondrous irises.

[unchartedterritoria]

Dangerous (Sam Drake x OC) - Chapter 19

Man, the holidays really gave me a wicked case of writers' block! Things are looking up now though! New chapter! Sam learns about ‘edutainment’. Comments are always appreciated!

You can read it and previous chapters on A03 if you prefer:

A03 Chapter 19 Link

Faith and Sam spent a week searching every private estate erected before 1865 in Key West. Every day started the same. Sam made a coffee run while Faith showered, then she poked fun at whatever garish Hawaiian shirt Sam had chosen to wear while they plotted out which properties to explore and research that day. In the afternoon, they went from house to house, property to property, hoping, praying that something, anything would link between its history and Dr. Samuel Mudd. They ended each day at Mallory Square, the harbor that served as the center of the town, and watched the sunset with the rest of the locals, while they drank Coronas and hoped the next day would bring some piece of evidence.

As each day passed without a lead, Sam grew weary. They hadn't found a damn thing; Nothing even remotely close to a clue. He also knew that Jasper and his men would eventually find out where they were. Jasper was an asshole, but an asshole with a lot of power and a lot of money, two things that Sam knew would make anyone talk. He suppressed the worrisome thought and kept it to himself. Sam was sure that Faith had already thought of it and he didn't want to remind her of it.

With the morning came a new week and a new plan.

“Museums,” Faith declared, “We hit every one of them and see what we can learn.”

"Good idea. I like museums," Sam said, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“No stealing,” Faith ordered, pointing at him.

“What? Me?”

“Yeah, you.”

“C'mon. Whaddya take me for?”

“A thief,” Faith replied as she finished tying her shoes.

“I promise I'll be a good boy,” He assured her as he stuffed his wallet in the pocket of his jeans. “We wanna keep a low profile, right?”

“I think you blew that plan out of the water when you put on that shirt,” Faith said with a sigh, giving him a clap on the back as she opened the door to their room and headed out into the bright sun. Sam grabbed the hem of his shirt, a loud orange number covered in a pattern of beer bottles in front of yellow suns and palm trees. He looked down at it with a frown.

“I happen to like this shirt,” Sam said to himself while he stalked out the door on her heels.

“That was not a museum.”

"Yes, it was!"

“That was a sideshow!” Sam insisted.

“Didn't you see the stuff they had?”

“I'm sorry, I was a little distracted by the guy dressed as a sea captain yelling 'Wreck Ashore!'”

Sam absently patted himself down while he stalked down Duval Street, the main artery of the island. As Faith kept pace next to him, she laughed to herself. The Pirate and Wreckage Museum was a bust. While it did have some interesting artifacts, nothing there linked Lincoln or Mudd to Key West.

“It's a tourist museum, what did you expect?” Faith asked.

"To not be asked for a tip when I left!" He answered, utterly agog at the question, while his hand continued to feel for the cigarettes he knew he grabbed before they left the room.

“Shirt pocket Sam,” Faith said while she scanned the street for signs and ads for other museums.

“Thank you,” Sam grumbled, grabbing the pack from his shirt and lit one for himself.

“It was meant to teach and entertain. Haven't you ever heard of 'edutainment'?” She asked him. The question made him stop short and stare at her.

"What? What the hell kinda word is that? 'Edutainment.'" He said, accenting each syllable of his new word with more disdain than the last.

“A made up one to sell parenting books and educational toys,” Faith informed him. She checked the time on her phone. “We have time to hit another one before sunset.”

While Sam found the pirate museum off-putting, Faith found it charming, much like she found the whole island. It functioned at a laid-back pace, which Faith wasn't accustomed to.

She knew they had to get somewhere with their research soon, they couldn't hide from Jasper forever, but she wanted to savor the time she was spending down here on this adventure, she even was enjoying who she was spending it with.

Faith and Sam strolled down Duval Street, weaving their way through the tourists that lined the sidewalks. They passed shop after shop, bar after bar while the smells of sweet suntan lotion and cheap vodka permeated the air. As they crossed the street, Faith spotted a dark blue sign above a large doorway.

"'Mel Fisher Museum,'" Faith read as they approached the large white building, "Name sound familiar to you?"

Sam shook his head.

“Windowless building, solid door, modern looking security system,” He said, his eyes darting quickly to the cameras and sensors on the corners of the building. “No sign of a vaudeville skit out front, this place might just give us something useful. Shall we?”

Faith nodded and pushed open the heavy wooden door.

The drab, white facade on the outside of the museum was mimicked on the inside. Lit by stark, fluorescent lights, the building held two floors, the second a lofted balcony overlooking the center of the main room. Ugly black cabinets ringed its edges while pastel prints of seaside scenes attempted to accent the walls. The bottom floor consisted of four rows of display cases, all dazzlingly lit to showcase their contents.

“This looks like an old church,” Faith observed.

"Probably was at one point. One of the old mission style ones," Sam elaborated. Faith and Sam entered the building slowly. Faith was puzzled. As she passed by each display case, she found almost all the items had price tags attached to them.

“I don't think this is a museum,” Faith muttered, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"Oh, it is," Sam called from behind her, causing her to turn around towards the sound of his voice. "It's just all for sale."

Sam stood in front of a large printing close to the front doors of a middle-aged man in scuba gear. Mel Fisher.

"For sale?" Faith repeated, moving back next to Sam to get a look at the picture for herself. Sam skimmed the paragraphs of information that overlaid the photo.

“Looks like all of this is from the wreck of a Spanish ship that he found not too far from here. Almost 32 million dollars worth of treasure on board,” Sam summed up for her.

"Holy shit that's a lot of money," Faith muttered, the information suddenly making her feel underdressed and underclass for the value of goods she was sure she was surrounded by. Meanwhile, the awe in Faith's tone caused Sam to let out a low chuckle.

“What?” She questioned, walking towards the middle of the gallery.

“Nothin'. It's just that, well, 32 million isn't that much. I mean, I've seen hauls bigger than that so I'm just sayin' it could be a lot more,” He explained as he shoved his hands in his front pockets.

Faith turned and stared at Sam, a look of utter disbelief on her face.

“More than 32 million dollars?” She asked in a low voice.

Sam felt the worn down features of the coin from Libertalia in his pocket. The body warmed metal under his fingers triggered memories of being aboard The Fancy, surrounded by mountains of treasure collected from every notable pirate of the 17th century. And being trapped under a beam while the boat went up in flames.

Almost ended up dead but I still found it, he thought to himself with a smirk.

“It was a lot more. Didn't get to keep much of it, but I did find it," He emphasized by pointing the coin between his fingers at her. Faith quickly snatched the piece out of Sam's hand and flipped it over in her hands.

“Hmm, I wonder how much this is worth? Where is one of those appraiser guys?” She said, doing her best greedy cartoon villain voice.

“Uh, I don't think so!”

Sam plucked the coin out of Faith's hand. She cackled comically while Sam stowed his pirate treasure back safely in the pocket of his tan pants. Faith leaned a hip against the glass case next to her.

“You don't want to find out how much money something's worth? Since when?” She asked, crossing her arms in front of her.

“Since I know the rest of them are gone. It's the only one left. Also a reminder of a hell of a goddamn adventure. So you see, it's priceless. And since when do you care how much something's worth?”

His eyes narrowed down at her.

“I don't. Just gotta bust your balls a bit,” Faith said with a smile and gave him a gentle, playful bump with her hip.

Sam gave a little smirk and followed Faith down the aisle. Faith glanced in each case, taking stock of what was in them. Pieces of pottery in one glass box, misshapen silver and copper coins marked with various crosses in another. She passed another full of rusted spikes and musket balls.

Such a steal! Only Three hundred dollars a piece! The thought made her shake her head incredulously. The sound of Sam letting out a low wolf whistle caused Faith to stop.

"Would ya look at that," Sam said, his large arms stretched wide and braced against the display below him. The light from inside the case illuminated his rough face, giving it a youthful, excited glow. Faith stepped next to him and looked down to find an extensive collection of emeralds and pearls. Sam thumped his finger above a massive, rough cut, forest green emerald with an $85,000 price tag.

“That's a nice one.'

“Yeah, I guess.”

He turned his head quizzically towards her.

“You guess?”

“Yeah. Don't get me wrong, emeralds and gems are pretty. Like those two little bright ones right there would make an awesome set of earrings,” She told Sam while pointing towards two small stones at the very back of the case with wide eyes, making him snicker.

“But as far as treasure goes, eh. Anyone can find gems, or silver, or gold. It's stereotypical treasure stuff.”

"Treasure's treasure in my book, it's all worth money," Sam interjected.

Faith slid closer to Sam and lowered her voice.

“Now our treasure,-”

“Our treasure?” He interrupted again.

“Our treasure which will come to be your treasure,” She corrected, “There is nothing else like it in the world, it's got history. It's priceless. Kinda like that Libertalia coin in your pocket. You can't put a price on the story behind that.”

Sam bobbed his head in a begrudging acceptance of her explanation.

"Remy thought that way about the Lincoln Bible when I showed it to him," Faith said. The mere mention of his name caused a sad fondness to creep into her voice. Sam's head dropped; the mere mention of Remy caused him to look at the floor in shame.

"The history of it excited him so much; it made it priceless to him. Just like what we're looking for," Faith finished. Sam slowly nodded in agreement while his eyes traveled up, finally able to meet Faiths.

“You really don't blame me at all for what happened to him?” Sam asked quietly.

“You didn't pull the trigger so no, I don't,” She replied.

Sam knew she had told him this before, but it was an answer during the heat of the moment. Truth be told, Sam wasn't sure she still meant it weeks later, plenty of time for a person to think about things and change their mind. Thankfully, she didn't. Maybe now in the back of his mind, the blanket of blame that was smothering Sam from his chat with Nathan would ease a bit more.

"Can I help you?" A smooth, male voice echoed, causing the dense, slightly tense air between Faith and Sam to dissipate. A lanky man in a linen shirt appeared from behind one of the large cabinets with records on the balcony of the second floor.

"No, we're just looking, thanks," Faith called to him as he descended the spiral staircase with a rapid smoothness that came from repetition. The pair of palm tree patterned board shorts that he wore with his shirt accented the deep-set bright green eyes of his long face.

"All of our stones are inspected and certified for authenticity. We also offer multiple sizes and jewelry settings. Our smaller emeralds are a perfect size for a pair of simple yet understated earrings," He suggested. Faith's eyes shot up from the case as the hairs on the back of her neck began to prickle, despite the heat.

"See? I said the exact same thing to him!" She said, playing it off as coincidence.

"Well, I must confess. I did overhear snippets of your conversation," The man admitted with a bashful grin.

“Ah,” Faith responded, the information making the anxiety in her start to wain.

"I know it's not overly polite, but it does help to talk up a sale. So sir, what do you think? Earrings for the wife?"

Faith turned her head towards Sam, a pursed lip grin on her face as she tried to contain her laughter.

"You know, she might say she is, but she isn't the fancy jewelry type. Nice try though. Let's grab a beer, more our speed. Right, babe?" The lie rolled off Sam's tongue without missing a beat, along with the term of endearment he tacked on so quickly, so comfortably, as if he had been calling Faith that for years. It was unsettling for him; it was too comfortable.

The laughter disappeared from behind Faith's grin as the lie that Sam produced so easily rang true for her.

“Right. One question first,” She said, turning her attention back to the salesman with the vivid green eyes, “Do you have anything in here from the Civil War?”

He clucked his tongue and shook his head gently.

“Sorry, every we have in here predates it by a good hundred years,” He answered, stuffing his hands in the front pockets of his shorts in a very 'awe shucks' fashion.

“Didn't think so. But, I had to ask. Let's go dear, the bar and the sunset awaits!” Faith said as she grabbed Sam's hand and pulled him towards the door.

“Thanks!” Sam called out behind him and raised his free hand in a half-hearted wave.

"Have a nice evening!" The man called back as the heavy wooden doors closed behind Sam and Faith with a massive, echoed thud.

The man behind the counter slinked over to the phone that he kept near the staircase. An ancient yellow relic of a thing that still had a coiled cord and was attached to the wall. He jabbed the numbers quickly with a pointed finger. Three muffled rings passed before it connected with a statically click.

“Wallace? Eddie. Where's your boss? Well, get him on the phone. Oh, I'm pretty sure he's gonna wanna talk to me. Just-, ask him if that reward money is still up for grabs.” He listened to the crackle of the phone as it changed hands on the other end.

“Hey cuz! Knew that would get you on the phone! It was Drake, can't miss that voice and that nose. Yeah, she was with him, why?

The man's brow furrowed in confusion.

“Her? I thought the reward money was for him.”

[nightmare-afton-cosplay]

Forever Moored: Stern of the USS Manzanita Is Converted Into a $2M Home

realtor.com

Forever more and forever moored. We’ve spotted a boat that’s permanently anchored in place on the shore near Seattle.

Although it isn’t going anywhere, this one-of-a-kind house looks as if it could set sail at any moment,  Located on Mercer Way on Mercer Island, WA, it’s for sale for $2 million.

“The property was originally a boat, the USS Manzanita,” says the listing agent, Lori Holden Scott. The Coast Guard commissioned it in 1906, and it was built in Camden, NJ, and completed in 1908.

In 1917, the ship became part of the U.S. Navy, and it later became a lighthouse tender along the Oregon coast, from 1929 through 1941.

In 1949, the boat was going to be scrapped, when a local librarian and her father bought the stern portion of the vessel.

Exterior of converted boat on Mercer Island, WA

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Historical photos

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Historical photo

Washington State Library

Exterior

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“So, they bought this boat for a thousand dollars, and they barged it over to Mercer Island. They cut down some trees, sort of winched it up onto the property, and put it on a foundation,” Holden Scott explains.

Bedroom

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Bedroom

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What was once one-fifth of a boat was then converted into a residence, permanently affixed to dry land. The converted boat is now a 1,390-square-foot home, with three bedrooms, one full bathroom, and two half-bathrooms.

“The three staterooms are pretty efficient. They’re small, they fit a twin bed on a platform with drawers, and there are armoires in the rooms,” Holden Scott says. The bathroom boasts a modern soaking tub and shower.

Bathroom

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Laundry

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The high-end and modern kitchen is located on the lower level, near a spiral staircase.

“It has mahogany countertops, copper backsplash, AGA appliances, ice machine, Sub-Zero freezer drawers, and AGA refrigerator drawers,” says Holden Scott.

Kitchen

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Kitchen

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Even with modern conveniences, the rooms have a nostalgic feel, thanks to all the wood paneling. The fireplace in the main living space is a vintage highlight, according to the agent.

“Pretty much everything else, all of the hardware, some of the furniture, it’s all original to 1908,” she says.

Living space

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The house survived the wrecking ball in 1971, when a new family bought the property with the intent of tearing the boat down and building a larger house. Luckily, they decided to keep it and raise their family there. While the home isn’t huge, the location is near-impossible to beat.

“It’s right there on the lake, with 60 feet of waterfront and a beautiful view of Mount Rainier. It’s great lakefront property,” Holden Scott says.

For those fleeting sunny days in Seattle, there’s also plenty of patio, deck, and dock space.

Deck

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Deck

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The current owners bought the home in 2006, as their second home on the island.

“They kind of use this home as sort of a party house, a place to keep a boat, a place to entertain friends and family—just a fun kind of recreational place on the lake. So they never lived in that house,” Holden Scott explains.

When asked whether the house feels like a house or a boat, Holden Scott told us the place feels like a strange hybrid.

“When I’m on there, I feel like I am actually moving. I feel like I am on a boat, no doubt about it,” she says. “It is so funky, but in a way that makes you smile.”

Bedroom

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Lower level

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Staircase

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Bedroom

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Bathroom

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Aerial view

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Exterior

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Lower level

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Bathroom

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Interior

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The post Forever Moored: Stern of the USS Manzanita Is Converted Into a $2M Home appeared first on Real Estate News & Insights | realtor.com®.

from https://www.realtor.com/news/unique-homes/boat-house-mercer-island-uss-manzanita/

[84reedsy]

Lost & Wild Special Edition:  JB and Blue’s Halloween Pumpkins

Time for another check-in with Bam, Harper, and their little brood! Happy Fall, ya’ll!

Rating: PG

Word Count: 3050

Bam had barely docked the boat before Harper was jumping off to secure the ropes to the pilings. He knew she was excited to introduce the kids to a tradition of hers, but he had to shake his head at her apparent enthusiasm. JB, their son of just over three, stood on a stool next to Bam, still having to strain to see over the panel in front of him.

“Daddy, did I do it?” He asked, looking a little bit stressed over his first ‘docking’.

“My boy, you did fantastic! We didn’t hit the dock or any other boats. You’re proving to be a better captain than even I.” He complimented JB, his smile broadening as JB’s face lit up in proud fashion.

“DDAAAADDDY!!!” Blue yelled from below deck, scrambling up the ladder as fast as her legs would carry her, “ARE WE THERE?” Her eyes were wide and wild, her excitement overflowing.

“Yes, baby girl, we’re in town.” He lifted JB off of the stool and set him on the floor next to Blue. Time had flown by so fast. It seemed as if only yesterday he’d met Harper and her cousins on these very docks and today his babies stood before him, hardly babies any more. Blue was 5 years old now and just as much of a spitfire as ever. She was almost dancing in place, unable to keep still.

Harper bounded back into the cabin of the boat.

“What are you guys waiting for?? Aren’t you ready to go see pumpkins?” She aimed her zeal at the children, both of their eyes lighting up. Bam smiled warmly, but chuckled, almost mystified by the thought that such eagerness could be devoted to acquiring a vegetable. Sure, he’d seen jack-o-lanterns before, but the only pumpkins they’d ever had were purchased for food, not frivolous decoration. But Harper’s doe eyes and pouty lip had won him over. As if he could ever deny her anything she wanted.

“YES! I want a BIG pumpkin, mommy!” JB jumped up and down to match his sister’s movements, the two grasping hands and spinning an a circle, dizzying themselves. The fell with a thud to the wooden floor in a fit of giggles.

“Well then we’ll get you the biggest one we can find!” Harper scooped him up off the floor, nuzzling his warm cheek. Bam snatched up Blue, throwing her over his shoulder as she squealed. Once on the dock, Bam situated the girl on his shoulders, letting her be the beacon as they made their way to the shore.

There was a small festival in town, a few tents dotted the road ahead, hay bales lined the sidewalks. Carnival games grabbed the attention of JB and Blue as they handed over dollar bills to throw balls at milk jugs, darts at balloons, and ping pong balls at vases. Blue roared in response to her grand prize achievement, receiving a stuffed bear larger than herself. JB wordlessly offered his help, the two carrying the stuffed monstrosity to the next game booth.

Harper held Bam’s hand as she watched them, their bright faces and infectious laughter always left her in awe at the lives she and Bam had brought into this world. To see the way the two were so close almost brought her to tears, she managed to hold them back as Bam squeezed her hand.

“We got pretty lucky, didn’t we?” He let go of her hand to slide his arm around her waist.

Harper turned to look at him, his sunglasses hiding the emotion she knew he was hoping to hide in his eyes. She smiled and kissed his cheek, nodding.

“Yeah, real lucky.”

At the end of the row of games, the plush bear was dangerously close to dragging the ground as their children’s stamina was dwindling. Bam convinced Blue to let him carry the bear since they were going to need all of their strength to carry back their pumpkins, pointing at the tent ahead that had hundreds of pumpkins spilling out of it’s confines.

Both of their eyes were as wide as saucers, their minds filled with the stories Harper had told them stories over the last few weeks of carving them and setting them aglow with candles. Blue asked every night before bed if she could carve anything she wanted, her first choice changing nightly.

After looking back for their parent’s permission, Blue took JB’s hand and they raced off, pouring over the gourds one after the other.

“JB! Look at THIS one! No….this one!” Blue could barely stop and study one before she was zipping to the next. JB following her lead, the two narrowly avoiding a collision a few times as they zigged and the other zagged. Bam brought his camera, snapping pictures of them both as they lifted heavy pumpkins, showing everyone to their parents.

When Blue finally picked out the one she wanted, her little legs shook with effort as she tried to lift it, the circumference of it, stretching her arms to their limits. To keep from dropping it, she let Bam carry it for her. JB’s was slightly more modest, but he carried it, slightly struggling, Harper bent over next to him as he walked, ready to save the gourd from it’s doom should it topple out of his grip. Borrowing a wheelbarrow, the children heaved their selections into the basin, picking out a few more for their aunt’s and uncles and grandparents. The lot of Browntown had been happy to participate, each planning their own carving to make the holiday more festive in the forest.

Raising his eyebrows at the total, Bam sighed sarcastically, peering at Harper over his glasses.

“I better at least get a pie out of this.” He chided.

Harper narrowed her eyes playfully. She leaned in mumbling into his ear.

“Oh, you’ll get a pie alright, as long as you’re a good boy.” She quipped to him. She almost laughed aloud when he quickly dug out cash and thrusted it at the cashier.

“I’m always a good boy…” he grumbled back, she turned, trying not to yelp when he pinched her backside.

“Joshua!” Harper blushed, but couldn’t stay mad at him, not as happy as he looked.

The little family made an assembly train as they unloaded the pumpkins from the wheelbarrow onto the boat, Bam having to muscle the last one alone as Blue followed him, concern in her face that he would drop it.

“Daddy, be CAREFUL! Respect the pumpkin!” She said to him as he set it down and she hugged it in relief. Harper snickered.

“That one is alllll your fault.” She pointed a finger in Bam’s chest playfully. He huffed, unable to hide his amusement.

“I guess I can’t deny that one.”

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

Back in the inlet, the boat anchored, Harper, JB, and Blue took turns handing pumpkins to Bam in the skiff, Blue demanding they go slow and easy with her’s, barking orders as if she were in charge of a wrecking crew.

“Little lady, you better watch that tone.” Bam warned as she criticized his handling of the stem. The earnestness in her face made him want to scold her and hug her at the same time. She held JB’s hand, trying her hardest to help him down into the skiff. In reality it just made it more difficult, but neither Bam nor Harper had the heart to tell her otherwise.

Safely aboard the skiff, JB and Blue held tightly to their pumpkins, Blue squeezing so tightly that Harper had to warn her not to hug it into a million peices. Neither child wanted to part with their selection once at shore, worried that in the flurry of unloading there would be a mixup and they would lose track of the ones they’d chosen. As the rest of the Browns met them at the shore and indulged Blue and JB’s recantation of their trip to town, eventually gathering their pumpkins and heading back into the forest.

Blue tested Bam’s patience, refusing to let him carry hers even though she had to stop every five feet to set it down and rest. Bam’s resolve was wearing thin, but every time she stopped, he just looked skyward and took a deep breath before reaffirming his patience with his daughter. JB was much more easy going, holding onto his mother’s hand as they followed, his pumpkin in Harper’s arm.

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Once they finally arrived back at their cabin set a short way from the center of Browntown, pumpkin guts were slinging everywhere; slimy little handprints were all over every surface. Bam was clearly on edge, large knives lying on the table, he saw the twinkle in Blue’s eyes as the shiny metal caught her attention.

“Blueberry Gypsy, don’t you even think about it.” He bellowed a little, making her jump a little and scowl; Harper couldn’t believe how much she looked like her father just then. Redirecting both of her children’s attention, Harper took a flat pan to the wood stove along with all the seeds she and JB had been seperating and cleaning. She recruited Blue to salt the seeds, JB’s little hands spreading them out flat.

“And we can eat these, Mommy?” Blue asked, watching the seeds drying on the door of the stove.

“Yes, this one one of my favorite things to eat as a kid.” Harper said, popping a raw one in her mouth.

Bam now calmer, called his children over and sat with them, letting them use a small pocket knife to trace small outlines on each of their pumpkins. Once they were happy with their designs (JB receiving a helping hand from his dad), they stood close by while Bam and Harper each carved along their traces carefully. Both children watched and chattered excitedly as chunks of pumpkin fell away revealing the jack-o-lanterns.

Blue was jumping up and down in her chair with excitement as Bam and Harper sealed light from the cabin, covering windows, shutting the doors, darkening the room before lighting candles in each gourd. JB and Blue both looked on as the glow illuminated each perfectly crooked face.

“I LOVE IT.” Blue’s loud whisper spoke her level of wonderment, JB clapping.

Still insisting on carrying it, Blue made her way slowly outside to put the pumpkins at the end of the little walkway to the cabin, setting both pumpkins down opposite each other. In the dusk, lit up they looked every more magical. Soon the rest of the family came to see their pumpkins, Blue going into extraneous detail of hers’, JB jumping up into his grandpa’s arms and pointing at his simply.

The large group travelled from dwelling to dwelling, seeing the different pumpkins that each person carved. Both of the small children were tickled to pieces over their new tradition, begging to do it every year.

That evening, Blue dressed up as superhero and JB as a Bear, the two ran from house to house, zig-zagging around Brown-town, collecting candy and completing activities that aunt, uncle or grandparent planned for them. Bobbing for apples was Blue’s favorite as she almost dunked her entire little body in the basin. JB liked the face-painting, looking even more like the cutest teddy bear.  

Once night fell, all the jack-o-lanterns were lit, the light cast from their faces dancing on the ground and trees surrounding them. When the night threatened to draw on too long, Bam and Harper rounded up the children and walked them back to their cabin, both Blue and JB kissing each jack-o-lantern good night as they passed. Their excitement kept them up and excitable for a short time, but ultimately both crashed in their parent’s lap as Bam read to them from a Halloween book about ghosts, witches and wizards.

Laying Blue in her bed, Harper frowned when she heard the pillow crinkle. Lifting it as to not wake Blue, she found a stash of candy that Blue had somehow managed to sneak into her room. Gathering all but one, Harper shook her head, biting back a laugh.

“Contraband…” Harper whispered, showing Bam as they met outside of the children’s room. Bam chose a piece and popped it in his mouth.

“Delicious contraband…” He smiled. He smacked her backside as she turned, “ I think we need to go play our own little game of trick or treat. Get in that bedroom, girl.”

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As soon as dawn arrived, Blue was up milling around the house. Though Halloween was over, she was still abuzz from all of the activity (and perhaps the candy stash that her parent’s hadn’t found). The moment Bam was up and dressed, she dashed out the front door, beelining for the pumpkins at the end of their walk. She stopped short, dead silent though, staring straight ahead.

“D-Daddy?” She asked, pointing ahead of her as she looked back at him, “My pumpkin…”

Bam’s eyes followed her finger and saw the scattered remains of her pumpkin, smashed beyond any semblance of recognition. The scratches in the dirt, the scat littering the ground not far from it were all he needed to figure out a bear had decided to make a snack of their decorations.

“Blueberry...I’m so sorry. I think a bear must’ve liked your pumpkins, too.” He took her hand, his other hand resting near his handgun holster, his eyes peeled and scanning to make sure the animal was long gone. He walked with Blue around the complex and noticed not a single pumpkin had been spared, pulpy orange flesh lay strewn about. Some had tried to clean up what they could, but the damage was done and Blue was crushed, walking with her shoulders slumped, her feet dragging along the dirt. When they returned home, both JB and Blue’s pumpkin remains had been cleaned from the yard. Blue kicked a rock, sulking.

Bam sniffed the air, looking through the window of his cabin, seeing Harper working on something in the kitchen, JB standing on a stool next to her, still dressed in his little bear costume.  

“Girl, I bet your mama might just save the day.” He sniffed again, smirking. He picked Blue up and let her piggy back on his back, galloping into the house. Blue sniffed when she passed through the door, smelling some sweet spice. She wiggled down off of Bam and went to the over, peering in to see washed, clean chunks of pumpkin baking. She then crawled up the stool next to JB and watch as he stirred a bowl of dry spices and sugar.

“Punkin Pie!” He announced to her.

“We’re going to eat our pumpkins?” She looked horrified for a moment.

“Blue, just because the pumpkins were ruined doesn’t mean we can’t find another way to enjoy them. The pumpkins weren’t going to last forever even if the bear hadn’t come around and tore them up.” Harper explained, working her own bowl of ingredients into a pie crust dough. Blue climbed up on the counter, crawling across, mimicking the kneading of her mother.

“That’s right, little girl. This way we aren’t wasteful. “ Bam tapped a small spattering of flour, booping Blue’s nose, leaving a powdery, white mark behind.

“Daddy!” she giggled trying to wipe it away, her own floury hands just adding to the mess.

The rest of the morning was spent measuring, cutting, mashing, and baking. By the time the pie was done, Blue and JB’s belly’s were grumbling loud enough, they were sure the noise would scare away any bear who dared come near. They hovered dangerously close to the cooling confection as Harper warned them to stay away until after dinner, then they could have some. She noticed then that Blue’s twitchy fingers were unlikely to make it long.

Both children went down for their naps with such ease that Harper couldn’t help but be suspicious. She kept her ears open for any sound of them moving around as she and Bam spent the afternoon together, cleaning the mess that was made, bringing in wood, laundry.

“Harper…” Bam whispered as he stoked the fire in the woodstove, “There is a tiny bear in our ktichen…”

Harper’s heart about leapt out her chest as she snapped her head around, taking him entirely too literally. She saw the bear. It’s fuzzy brown ears, it’s beady, plastic black eyes and it’s button nose was all that was visible behind the counter.

“JB! Sit down!” Came a harsh whisper. It was then that the bear disappeared and that both parents noticed that the counter was now obviously bare, a pie no longer in sight.

Bam had to hide his grin and Harper tried to look stern, but even a grin was playing at the corners of her mouth. They crept quietly together to the kitchen, the unmistakable sounds of little lips smacking wafting out.

Blue and JB sat on the floor, their little hands covered in pumpkin pie as they dug pieces out to eat.

“Mommy really is a good cook.” Blue said, breaking off a piece of crust, JB only nodding in agreement, his cheeks puffed out with a mouthful of the pie.

“Blueberry Gypsy…” Bam rumbled.

“Joshua Bam Bam Junior….” Harper followed.

Both froze in place, hands halfway to grabbing another bite, Blue gulping her last loudly.

“S-Sorry…” Blue said. JB didn’t speak, only looked like he was about to cry.

Harper sighed, joining the kids on the floor after she grabbed forks from the dish strainer. Bam shook his head chuckling as he sat too, pulling JB in his lap.

“Don’t cry, son. Is it good?” He asked his baby bear clad child. JB be nodded, still chewing. JB offered a bite still in his fingers to Bam, smashing a little of it in his beard. Harper had to giggle now, handing each a fork and taking a bite herself, offering another bite to Blue, whose impish smile became infectious.

“I love Halloween, mommy. I can’t wait to do this every year.” Blue said, holding the pie up for others to take more.

“Sounds like we have a new tradition. “ Bam said, nudging Harper.

“Sounds perfect to me.” Harper said, leaning against him as she once again appreciated how lucky she was to have such an amazing life.

[thnks-fr-th-mngs]

run me over

so perhaps i took a while... perhaps i should start wrapping this story up... i don’t really know if i got more than one more part... unless i think of more shit... anyways... here’s part seven? 

Part One: thump

Part Two: melt

Part Three: do you even meme?

Part Four: laugh

Part Five: fall

Part Six: don’t even think it...

Part Seven: twist

Sean hadn’t heard from Felix in almost a week. Well, that was a bit of a lie. They had been texting, but the conversations seemed pretty one-sided. Sean did most of the talking while Felix seemed to give only vague answers. It was starting to scare Sean, who was desperate for interaction with the guy he was falling in love with.

Sean was on his lunch break at the moment. Summer break meant more students around and more lessons to give. That meant that his forty minute lunch breaks were forty minute lunch breaks exactly and no extra time in the office. He checked the time seeing he had twenty-five minutes left before he had another class to give.

With Felix on his mind, Sean picked up his phone and called the “Swedish Meatball” as it read in his contacts. It rang five times and with each ring Sean became more and more worried that Felix wanted nothing to do with him anymore. The thought terrified him so much he almost hung up the phone.

Not want him around anymore… Sean had thought that something was wrong with Felix. He figured Felix needed some kind of support and still wasn’t all that comfortable with telling Sean outright or that it wasn’t something to be talked about over text. So he waited. But if Felix was simply talking to him this way because he didn’t want to be around Sean anymore?

Either way, Sean needed to know what was on Felix’s mind. If it was something he could help with, he would be there. He’d help the man constantly in his mind with anything. Just to see him happy. For Felix to be hurting, Sean had to worry. But as the sixth ring came up, Sean wondered if the whole thing about Felix not wanting to be friends with him was truer than he wanted to believe.

That was the worst thing he could have felt. He wouldn’t know what to do if it was that. Probably cry. Probably march up to Felix’s apartment with a teary face and demand to know what he did wrong. Then the worst part, admit that Felix had the gall to make Sean fall in love with him and leave a crying, emotionally wrecked, shell.

“Hello?” A voice broke through Sean’s imagination and almost left him with no answer to speak out. Felix voice rang through Sean’s head and he calmed down immediately at the sound of it. His voice sounded tight and constricted, as if Felix was holding back from crying. Why would Felix be crying? Something was wrong!

“Felix?” Sean said with concern. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?” There was a bit of silence on the other end before a response echoed through the receiver.

“Nothing,” Felix said. “Nothing is wrong.  I'm fine.” Sean did not know that Felix was pinching the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes tight in both pain and frustration. Sean did not know that Felix drank a little too much the night before. Sean of course did not know that the reason Felix got drunk was because of him. But what Sean did know was that Felix most definitely was not fine and something was very wrong with him.

“I’m not stupid, Felix,” Sean said still concerned. “I know you well enough to know that something is going on. Talk to me. Let me help.” There was a bit of silence again before Sean heard Felix chuckle.

“Don’t worry,” Felix said quietly. “I'm just stressed. It’s nothing you or anyone else did or can help with.” Sean frowned and pursed his lips.

“I don’t believe you,” he pressed. “Nothing is ever only one person’s burden to carry.” That was something Sean truly believed. Someone, anyone, a strange homeless man in an alley could hear your troubles, and while it would probably be nothing compared to his, it’d help so much to get the troubles off your mind. Someone else knew what you were going through. That itself would be enough to help you.

“Trust me, Jack,” Felix answered. “I’ll be fine. It’s just… stress.”

“Fe…” Sean started to say. While Sean could tell his own expression was concerned and slightly pained, he couldn’t tell that Felix had flinched at the nickname and gave his own pained expression.

“That’s a nickname…” Felix muttered so low that Sean barely understood it. The sentence confused him though. Was it a bad nickname?

“Do you not like it?” Sean asked slowly, carefully. It was the closest to affectionate that Sean could be without giving anything away.

“No I like it,” Felix winced at his choice of words. But Sean didn’t see that, he only saw his own smile form on his face. “It’s okay, it’s just… surprisingly no one else has called me that. Ever.” Sean’s smile widened even more. In some way, Sean was special to Felix.

“Really?” Sean gave a slightly surprised response.

“Yeah,” came a slightly more upbeat response. “And you’re going to be the only one calling me that.” Felix wanted it to come off as though the nickname were too cute for him. But Sean was just about to explode with happiness. He really was special to him in some way. Even if Felix could never love Sean back, he’d be able to always be something important to him.

“Good,” Sean joked. He looked at the time on his wall and saw he had ten minutes left before he had to leave. “But anyways, if something is bothering you, you can talk to me. You know that don’t you?” Sean heard Felix chuckle on the other end.

“Yes, you little potatoe,” Felix answered. Sean liked the way he said “little potatoe.”

“Alright,” Sean said gently. “I have to go back to work in a bit, but let’s hang out or something.” Sean could tell Felix was thinking about it. He knew the Swede was busy running a multi-million dollar company. While scheduling was tight, Felix knew he had to make room for social life. He tried o keep as much of his meetings and work condensed into four days so he’d have three to work leisurely and calm down. Tomorrow was one of those days.

“I have a meeting tomorrow at two,” Felix said. “But it should be over between four and five. I could come over to your place and then take you to this café that has really great donuts.”

It’s not a date, Jack had to tell himself. Even though it very much sounded like a date, it was not a date. Don’t raise your hopes, don’t believe for a second he suddenly turned bi and wants to go on an actual date.

“Sounds good to me,” Agreed. “Text me when you're on the way over?”

“Of course,” Felix answered.

“See you then.”

“Bye, little potatoe.”

“Bye,” Sean said before Felix hung up on his end. “I love you,” he added before removing the phone from his ear. Of course Felix hadn’t heard it. But the confession felt so painful either way. But he still had five minutes to compose himself before his next class. Five minutes to forget that Felix had Sean’s heart in his possession and didn’t even know that he was dragging it around every which way.

 Of course Felix wouldn’t know the sweet torture he was putting Sean through, he was putting himself through the worst torture he had ever known. So much so that not even twenty minutes after hanging up on the Irishman, he took the day off from work to clear his head. He called his secretary to cancel his appointment saying his dog had eaten a piece of chocolate and was now sick. It was definitely believable seeing as how once, the demon dog ate gum and his liver started to fail.

“For once,” Felix said to his dog pouring himself a glass of milk. “I’m glad you’re such a pig.” Edgar did nothing but tilt his little dog head and look at his owner. Felix downed the milk and went to the couch to try to watch some shows. Once again, Sean on his mind.

Felix sighed and rubbed his eyes. This was becoming an issue. He wasn’t sleeping, he wasn’t working. All because of some green headed idiot who he had not one, not two, not even three, but four dreams all involving some sort of romantic  intimacy with the doofus. The last one was worse, which was why it pained him to talk to Sean earlier.

He didn’t understand what this could mean for anyone, let alone himself. The only thing he struggled understanding was why. Why had he dreamed such things? Why did talking to Sean strike such strong feelings of pain in him? Why was this reminding him of falling in love all over again like he did with his ex, only faster – and much more confusing than it had been before?

Picture reading this situation, Felix thought. If he were reading about this from the point of view from another person, what would he infer as a reader? That they were gay. Felix blinked at his own realization. Gay? Definitely not. He wasn’t gay, he was sure of that. Past relationships told him that much; long term and extremely short term relationships. Felix knew he wasn’t gay. So that left…

“Holy shit…” he whispered with wide eyes.

“Delivery for a Mr. Kuhjellberg!” A voice from the door called. Felix wasn’t ready for visitors today. He didn’t want to see anyone. But perhaps this British voice could help him forget everything. Felix went to the door and opened it to see a tall lanky boy with curly hair and green eyes. Felix smiled softly at the sight of his stupidly mischievous grin.

“I hope you're here to finally take my offer?” Felix joked. Months ago Felix offered PJ to take Edgar for free and since then, they joked about it.

“Felix, I love your dog, but not that much,” PJ put a hand on Felix’s shoulder when he said that. Felix laughed in response and moved aside to let his friend in the house. Edgar came from out the living room and bumbled up to PJ who went down to pick him up and hug him. “Hello, Edgar! Hi! Yes you giant fur ball I love you too!” PJ looked up to notice Felix was definitely having a bad day based on the rings under his eyes and the disheveled look about him.

“Need to talk?” PJ asked. Felix looked up and met his tall friend’s eyes briefly before looking down in embarrassment. Shyly, he shook his head.

“No, no, I'm fine,” he mumbled walking towards the kitchen table and pouring PJ a drink. The British boy followed not believing him.

“Spit it out Felix,” PJ pressed. “I've known you for years you can’t fool me.” Felix sighed and looked at the table. It was true, PJ had known him for years. Who better to talk to than to him? Surely he would understand, right? Surely PJ of all people would accept the realization Felix may have just made two minutes before.

“I think I'm Bi,” Felix spat out nervously. He looked up to see PJ’s face stare back at him blankly for several moments. Felix was getting nervous beyond belief, he was starting to sweat from the anxiety. Why didn’t PJ say something? Anything?! Slowly PJ opened his mouth to speak. Felix awaited losing his patience.

“Is this because of Jack?” PJ asked slowly and gently. Felix’s eyes widened, his heart making two strong pumps he practically saw his stomach move.

“Y-you… you know?” Felix gulped nervously. “How?” PJ chuckled and shook his head a bit before talking about his incredible intuitive skills.

“You weren’t like this before meeting and hanging out with him,” PJ stated the obvious and Felix blinked again and looked down. Somewhat ashamed at himself for not figuring that sooner himself.

“I don’t know what to do,” Felix said. “I don’t even know if this is real.” He sat down in a chair and poured himself out to his best friend. “It’s been a month and how is this possible?” PJ sat with him and shrugged his shoulders.

“You don’t pick who you get feelings for,” PJ advised. “But you can wait to see if these are real feelings or not. You probably are bisexual. That’s all fine and dandy, and I'm happy that you figured that out on your own. But the feelings for Jack that you’re – no don’t deny it I am not stupid, even if I act like it – the feelings you're struggling with could all just be a huge lust thing.”

“So I don’t like him?”

“Oh, no you definitely do,” PJ corrected. “The problem is you don’t know how much and which side of the number line. Is it heading in the love direction, or the lust direction? Because those are two totally different things.” Felix looked down at the table. Fe, Felix thought. He called me Fe.

He didn’t know which direction this feeling was going in.

[darlingpetao3]

For Asgard (Chapter 20/?)

A loud crash of thunder roars, closely followed by a thud on Stark's terrace. Thor wears the most irritated looking face known to any man.

“Loki!” Thor calls out in fury. “I bid you to relinquish your hold on these mortals!” Did Loki just roll his eyes at his brother? Thor stomps his way into the apartment. There are shrieks of despair and blasts of alien lasers coming from down below. A gut feeling tells you that you should be down there, aiding the people of New York to safety. Fighting these things. Anything but being caught in a family quarrel between your former psychotic lover and his roided avenging brother.

“I cannot.”

“You will be defeated,” Thor vows. “Mark my words.” Loki aims and shoots a blast at his brother, missing him by a hair.

“You come with me,” Thor says, grabbing you around the waist as Loki tries to lunge for him. Loki wasn't fast enough and you now find yourself flying midair, swerving around buildings, while Thor injures flying Chitauri lowlifes with his lightning charged hammer. There, down below, is the rest of your team in a defence formation. Thor sets you down quite gently, which you appreciate.

“Any luck up there?” Birdman asks. You shake your head solemnly.

“Not even close. Gah! This whole thing is one giant shit show and I'm just so, so- angry!” The engine of a dying motorized vehicle gets closer as a man rides over to your team through a cloud of dust. He looks pretty rough and seriously dirty, but he walks up to Cap like he knows him, so he must not be a threat. Wait... his face. This was the same man Loki was smiling like the Cheshire Cat at through the lab window on the helicarrier.

“Did someone say 'angry'?” he says lightly. The man gestures to you. “Who's this?”

“Long story, but she's with us.” Cap keeps it short and sweet, you like that. “Stark, we got him,” he says with a hand to his earpiece. Stark's voice interjects over your com system.

“Banner? Tell him to suit up. I'm bringing the party to you.” Mere seconds later, a gargantuan, dragon/whale-like, alien monster floats its massive self from around the corner of a building, with Stark leading it your way. Off of it jumps even more Chitauri soldiers who grapple onto buildings on both sides of the street.

“What are you staring at?” Banner wonders.

You point a shaky finger behind him. “That,” voice wavering.

Cap instructs Banner to get angry, but how could that help? This Banner guy is smaller than the rest of the men on this team. What could he possibly do? Banner makes a crack about always being angry. The moment he turns to face the monster, he- what fresh HELL-? First, he's this calm, little white man and when you blink he's a huge, green, enraged and bulging thing making this machine-whale keel over with the power of his fist. Incredible. You thought you'd seen it all. You were sorely mistaken.

Cap covers you and Redhead with his shield from the debris the beast spit forth upon hitting the pavement. It lays unmoving on the ground, but up above, hanging from the buildings is the Chitauri army. They squawk their unnerving voices. Stark touches down next to a hulking Banner and you all stand in a circle, covering all their possible angles of attack. Like total badasses.

As the Avengers.

Another daunting whale-machine descends from the portal in the sky. Great. Cap starts dishing out instructions to each member of the team, but in your head, the volume of his voice dims. In its place, the sound of a child's whimpers catches your attention. Trying to locate the sound, you scan the destroyed area around you. And then you see him. A young boy about age six or seven cowers under a smashed up car. Something inside you kicks in and you high tail it to the boy, leaving your crew behind, all the while smashing and kicking gross Chitauri faces that happen to get in your way. And of course, they do get in your way. Finally, when there are no more obstacles to defeat, and thinking it best to proceed slowly so as to not frighten the little guy even more, you cautiously approach him and crouch down to his level.

“Hey, it's okay. It's okay, the coast is clear.” You extend your hand to him. “Come with me. I'll get you somewhere safe.” The child's bright eyes shift back and forth, checking his surroundings. He takes your hand (after some deliberation), as you help him out from under the wrecked vehicle.

“Where's your mom? Where did you see her last?”

The little boy's face twists in thought as he scratches his head. Shaggy black strands fall in his face. He doesn't answer you (which you can understand because you were taught not to talk to strangers when you were young, too), but he points down the closest street heading east. “Come on, I'll take you to her.” He takes your hand again while you lead the way. Suddenly you feel a surge of more responsibility than you've ever felt before.

You ask him which way next, and he points down an alley. On the other end of it, you can make out the sign of a cafe, where you assume awaits his rightfully frantic mother. Behind you at a distance, an alien garble of words grows louder. The boy's eyes are watering. He gives you a big hug and you think he shoves something haphazardly in your pocket. In a split second, his little legs carry him like he's the fastest boy alive. Now two Chitauri have spotted you and are hurtling your way. You quickly check to make sure the boy made it out of the alley to the cafe, but you no longer see him. Surely he's not that fast... You pray he made it out safely. You pick up a trash can lid just in your reach and let out a huff.

“Bring it, scumbags.”

You pant and smear the blood from your victorious cuts as you scan the interior of the cafe for the little boy's face. He is nowhere to be seen. Even when asking around in a small frenzy, no one here knew of any missing child. That left you uneasy, to say the least.

Out the cafe's window, Cap and Thor stand staring up at the sky in disbelief. You hurry out the door to their side and follow their upward stare. “What'd I miss?”

“Stark redirected a missile into the wormhole,” Cap explains. “Nat's closing- He's not out-”

“No, look!” You point out the falling red and gold sliver from above. The three of you exchange triumphant glances and back to the sky. “Wait, he's not flying. Stark's falling!” Thor winds himself up to fly, but the hulkish Banner luckily catches his colleague like a fly ball.

Banner sets him down, but Stark remains unmoving as the four of you form a huddle around him. The tabloids may have been right about him being a genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, but he was more than that. He was the real hero today. The world will miss him greatly-

Stark's body on the ground gasps violently. “What the hell? What just happened?”

“We won.”

If one could believe it or not, it didn't actually feel like you had won, no matter the amount of praise and gratitude received from the people of New York. You smiled through the 'well done' pats on the back. You obviously had been through so much, so fast, with plenty of different and complicated emotions vying for the top spot in your brain.

Maybe you should see a therapist.

After all, upon reflection, you have come to realize the Asgardian witch's prophecy had come true.

“I see a blackness in your future. You will be consumed. Terror. Darkness. Sadness. Death.”

The blackness and darkness, you imagine, was falling through the hole eventually leading to the Otherworld. Terror – the havoc upon New York; Sadness, well that was obvious, and coincides with 'death,' Coulson's in particular. The 'consumed' part is trickier, and the only thing you could pinpoint to it would be how consumed with love you were for Loki that it blinded you...

At the present, you find yourself in Central Park trying to be inconspicuous behind the trunk of a tree. You pull your dark shades up onto your head and peer around the trunk, watching the exchange go down. Tony Stark walks with two briefcases while Thor escorts Loki to the undisclosed meeting place designed by Eyepatch. Since you were not originally and officially a part of the Avengers Initiative from the get go (and being on the wrong team in the beginning, though he never explicitly referred to it), Eyepatch thought it best for you to not be involved with the goings on taking place today. But that sure as hell didn't stop you from spying.

From catching one last glimpse at Loki.

He bears scratches all over his beautiful face and is bound in chains, cuffs and a muzzle. Even after everything, you still fight the urge to run to him. To kiss him. To say a proper goodbye.

Banner takes the Tesseract from one of Stark's briefcases and sets it in a cylindrical glass container. He hands it off to Thor, who then offers the other end of the container's handle to Loki. Loki grabs it roughly like he wants this shit to be over with. In the last moment, before the Tesseract is activated, Loki manages to spot you, like he knows.

He always knows, doesn't he?

His eyes are pleading. Please forgive me, they seem to say. You're not sure if you're ready for that step yet. The blue glow of the Tesseract envelops them and in a second, they vanish from this world and presumably back to Asgard.

And just like that, the deal is done, and the rest of your teammates disperse. Redhead and Birdman joke on their way to an awaiting cab. Banner and Stark laugh as they drive off in Stark's multi-million dollar Acura. And Cap, ever the cool guy, rides off into the sunset on his Harley.

Now that just leaves you. Alone. Sitting at the base of a tree trying to hold in your tears. Someone clears their throat. Looking up, it's Eyepatch. You put your shades back on so your eyes won't betray you in front of him.

“His proposition still stands. I can still make it happen,” he says, a little uncomfortable at your all too apparent sadness. “He would have wanted that for you.”

“Coulson?” His name almost wouldn't leave your lips. “I could really go home after everything?”

He nods. “I think it would be in all our best interests if you did.”

“Okay.”

You remain frozen on your doorstep to your apartment. It feels like the weirdest thing in all the worlds to be back here. To be back at the place you once called home. Strangely enough though, you felt homeless now. Your hand shakes a little while reaching for the doorknob. You brace yourself, but for what, you don't even know. Peeking through upon opening it, you notice the entire place is in complete disarray. Not only from the battle with the Frost Giant on the night you were last here, but an extra mess. Speaking of the Frost Giant, its body was no longer lying lifeless on the floor (thank goodness). You assume you could thank S.H.I.E.L.D. for all of this.

I mean really, would it kill S.H.I.E.L.D. to clean up after they tear my house apart? Automatically you throw your body onto the couch where the cushion is not overturned. In the process a piece of folded paper tumbles out of your pocket. The page is blank after unfolding the paper, but then words magically begin to materialize:

My darling,

I hope this note finds you well and is able to shed some light on a murky subject. I never did discuss much with you the plan I so foolishly kept to myself.

I struck a deal with the Other, telling him what he wished to hear, and developed an alliance with him in order to free us from under his hold in his strange realm. We agreed that if I were to take over New York, then eventually Midgard with his supplied army, he would reward me. Naturally, he was never specific, and I was wary of course. My plan was never to take control of New York City, nor Midgard for that matter, though my outward intentions seemed as such. No, my plan was always to return home to Asgard, to claim what was (and is) rightfully mine, and my hopes that you would be with me still when the time had come. In saying this, I do admit to faking my defeat by the so-called "Avengers" in order to have their agency send me home. To send us home. It is unfortunate that before this was seen through, our ways had parted. I will have returned to my realm by the time you read this message. The only thing missing here is you, my dear.

From the beginning, I have always wanted for you to be happy and safe, please understand this. But now I realize I have caused the opposite effects in my withholding of this information. I lost my way. I lost myself. I committed acts I regret. I caused you great pain and that is something I never wanted to bring to you, but I suppose I should accept my true nature as a harbinger of miserable disaster. I do not deserve your forgiveness, so I do not ask for it, though I hope with all my heart I might be blessed with it one day. Whatever my fate may be, I pray to lay eyes upon you again someday, a sight that will always and forever put me at ease.

I would say 'take care of yourself,' but we are both aware of your capabilities and skill set and I fear your lethal gaze at the very mention of the phrase. Ha, a joke.

Please  know this: I love you past, present, and future in every sense, in every way, and with every fibre of my being.

Always yours,

L

P.S. The small boy you helped that day is in awe of your kindness and bravery. He always had been...

You let a breath go and the words disappear from the page. The piece of paper floats to the ground out of your hands. In your direct line of vision is a familiar worn book on the coffee table.

Norse Mythology, the cover reads.

You echo the words of the man who changed your life and your world:

“They are not merely myths.”

Part 21

Tag List: @gerardwayisapotato , @theloneavenger1995 , @magellan-88

[riathedreamer]

For Red Team’s “Matchmaking” Make Me a Match Palomo starts a matchmaking service while Grif and Simmons serve as the example of the perfect couple.

Jensen hesitated before asking, “No, seriously, what are you doing?”

Before Palomo could even open his mouth, Bitters groaned loudly, “Don’t get him started again.”

But it was too late. Before anyone could stop him, Palomo had spread his papers all over the dining table. Some of them included colored diagrams, most of them in a shade of blue.

Jensen took a closer look at one of the papers, briefly wondering whatever the connection between ‘number of comic books’ and ‘maximum outcome’ could be, before she asked, “I am still not quite sure what you are doing.”

“I am getting a girlfriend!” Palomo announced proudly, earning another sigh from Bitters and an amused nod from Smith.

After another glance at the colorful papers in front of her, Jensen asked gingerly, “So you’re adding theory to this plan?”

“Well, Captain Tucker tried to help me out at the last party with, you know, talking to girls but…”

“But he got rejected,” Bitters finished for him, twirling a fork between his fingers. His dinner tray lay untouched in front of him as the conversation stole his attention from the food. “Four times. At the last party alone.”

Jensen winched behind her visor. “Oh. Sorry to hear that, Palomo.”

“Yeah…” He sighed but then suddenly cheered up again. “But Captain Tucker said it was only because I had not found the right girl yet. So that is what I’m doing.”

After a couple of seconds with confused silence, Bitters cut to the chase, “He’s starting a matchmaking service.”

“Oh.”

“I still feel like you are leading them on,” Smith commented shortly and tilted his head to send the papers a displeased glance.

Palomo shrugged. “I am leading them to me. That makes it okay.”

“So it’s not an actual service?”

“Depends on how much service you see in signing yourself up and immediately get paired with Palomo. He’s the only male involved so far.” Bitters let out a snort. “You almost sounded disappointed, Katie.”

“This whole project is still depending on girls actually signing up,” Smith reminded Palomo who was keeping himself busy by scribbling down notes.

“But we’re in a war zone!” Palomo reminded him with a tsk. “Love always blossoms in a war zone. Besides, I am offering two free cans of soda.”

Bitters snorted again, a bit more laughter to it this time, and doubled over slightly. “Why not use a picture of Smith’s torso as clickbait while you’re at it?”

“Don’t get me involved in this.”

“We share locker room with you, Smith – we’ve all seen your abs.”

Palomo ignored Bitters’ suggestion and instead looked up to ask, “I just need to get the questions right. So I can sort the girls. We should start with the basic – ‘what are you doing for a living?’”

“Fighting. Which can be said about everyone. On Chorus. In the last five years,” Bitters reminded him dryly.

“Okay, maybe that was not the best question. Ooh. Rebel or Fed?”

Jensen made a disapproving sound. “That’s very judgmental of you, Palomo.”

“I just want to find the girl with smallest desire to kill me.”

“So you’re going with the Feds then?” Bitters concluded. “I mean, the Rebel girls know you.”

“Huh. Good point,” Palomo admitted and scribbled down the question.

Then, across the mess hall, a shriek rung out, “I am going to kill you!” None of the eating soldiers as much as flinched – this had become the daily routine by now.

“Geez, Simmons, take it a bit harder, would you?” An orange-armored soldier entered the hall, quickly followed by a maroon soldier who seemed to be breathing down his neck.

The Lieutenants continued on undisturbed, letting the argument become background noise. Palomo looked up at his friend on the other side of the table. “You got any ideas, Katie?”

“I guess fellow interests are a good start. Some common ground.”

“Do you have any idea of how long I spent updating that terminal?!” Simmons continued to yell some tables behind them. “And you just wrecked it again by trying to download that filth!”

Grif walked calmly as if unaware of the cyborg screaming at him. “Well, I didn’t know your nerd  stuff was that fragile!”

“Of course you didn’t! You don’t know shit!”

Palomo waved off Jensen’s suggestion. “Nah, too open. I don’t want to read two pages about shopping. I’m going to have a lot of answers to sort through. I need a quick system.”

“So short fun questions then?” Jensen caught on while collecting Palomo’s papers into a small pile. “Like… What would you spend a million dollars on?”

“Snackcakes, Simmons, snackcakes. I’m telling you – it’s the solution. If Kimball wants better working morale around here, I say free snackcakes to everyone. Might even get you to stop yelling at me as the first fucking thing in the morning.”

“I wouldn’t have to be yelling if you had not destroyed all my hard work with your dirty habits!”

Bitters was slowly unwrapping a snack bar from Gold Team’s latest raid when his head perked up at Jensen’s comment. “Like that’d do any good. Chorus doesn’t have dollars. Or anything worth a million.”

“It’s a hypothetical question, Bitters.”

“So? If we think hypothetically, Palomo could imagine any girlfriend he wants.”

“I want a girl who is willing to praise me. Boost my self-confidence,” Palomo declared and added it to his list.

“So you want a girl to give you a high-five?” Bitters concluded, crushing the wrapping paper into a small ball in his hand.

“I think I have to agree with Palomo on this one,” Jensen said softly. “I wouldn’t mind being in a relationship where we openly express our admiration for each other.”

Bitters threw the ball back and forth between his hands as he snorted, “Is this the high-five club?”

“I don’t understand how anyone can be that stupid!” Simmons groaned loudly. The Captains were slowly making their way to the Lieutenants’ table.

“You’re the one who didn’t add a fucking password in the first place!”

Jensen shrugged at Bitters’ comment. “No, just some sweet nicknames every once and again, I suppose.”

“Dumbass.”

“Nerd.”

Bitters’ visor hid the way he rolled his eyes. “So serenades? Full-blown love confessions?”

“I hate you.”

“I hate you more.”

Jensen straightened out her back. Both Smith and Palomo instinctly inched backwards a little, knowing she was about to enter her scolding-mode. “Now you’re just being bitter, Antoine. It’s not like you have a relationship to brag about.”

“Yeah, neither do you. Or Smith. Or Palomo.”

“Just give it a few days!”

“It’s not going to work,” Bitters told him sternly. Crossing his arms, he waited for an argument to start, well-knowing he was capable of proving his point.

“What is going on here?” Simmons asked, causing all the Lieutenants to jerk slightly. The Captains had now finally reached the table and were staring down at Palomo’s colorful plans in confusion.

“Well…”  

Before Palomo could begin his explanation, Smith folded his hands and replied calmly, “This is Palomo asking Jensen on a date.”

All the helmets in various colors first turned towards Palomo, then towards Jensen who was blushing so much it could somehow be seen through the visor.

The two Lieutenants briefly shared a glance, both rubbing their necks awkwardly.

“Sure,” she finally said in a light tone, avoiding visor-contact. “I never minded being a test subject before.”

“Well, that sounds romantic.”

“Like you’re the one to talk, Grif,” Simmons immediately barked at him. “You don’t have an ounce of romance in your body.”

“Half my body’s yours. So my ounce may have been crushed by the tank. So that’s Tucker’s fault.”

Simmons was just about to retort, finger already half-raised into a scolding position, when Palomo suddenly exclaimed, “You guys can help me out! What did you do on your first date?”

The two Captains both turned their heads towards him, the tension leaving their bodies as their stances slumped into one of confusion.

“Wait… What?”

“You don’t call it dating after marriage, Palomo.” Bitters leaned back in his chair. “After that it’s like obligated social sessions.”

“Who the fuck said we were married?” Simmons asked. His voice was very loud but thin, close to cracking had the suppressed annoyance not kept it stable.

The four Lieutenants slowly shared glances, suddenly unsure of how and whether they should continue the conversation. Eventually it was of course Smith who tried to explain, “Captain Tucker insisted-“

“Is he still doing that?!” Simmons sputtered, almost losing his grip on his tray.

“Apparently,” Grif replied with a shrug. He kept his gaze on the table, serving as a calm contrast to the maroon soldier who was freaking out next to him.

“So you all believed…”

“‘bout the marriage thing?” Bitters finished Simmons’ question and nodded. “Sure. Had my doubts ‘bout the name tattoos though.”

Simmons froze, the horror of the realization hitting his body. “What?” he asked, voice wavering by this point.

“It would be a bit overkill, I suppose.” Jensen looked up at her Captain. “I mean, the skin drafts and cyborg limbs do tell the story. Tattoos probably aren’t needed. Unless for aesthetic reasons.”

“I’m going to kill him,” Simmons declared, tray shaking in his hands. “I’m going to kill him, and then I’m coming back to kill you.” He turned his head sharply to send Grif one last dark glare before storming out of the mess hall.

Grif snorted and then called after him, “Hey, when you scold Tucker, tell him that just because he got a name tattoo doesn’t mean we’re that lame.” When Simmons was out of hearing range, he chuckled slightly under his breath and let out an impressed whistle as he turned towards the Lieutenants again, “Man, it’ll take forever to wipe that blush off his face. Nice work by the way.”

“Thank you, sir,” Smith replied proudly, completing his second achievement of the morning.

Palomo sent Jensen another smile through the visor, before turning towards Grif, a hand on the forgotten bunch of papers on the table. “So about that first date…”

“Two words for you, kid: Vegas Quadrant.”

[travelworldnetwork]

Gina DeCaprio Vercesi

The strains of island-infused top 40 hits floated across the bay as my husband mixed a batch of piña coladas and the sun dipped below the horizon, spinning the clouds into cotton candy. Two of our three daughters skimmed by on a paddleboard, delighting in losing their balance and splashing into the clear, blue sea. Cocktails in hand, we watched as a few stragglers motored into the peaceful anchorage, laying claim to the last remaining mooring balls.

“Do you know what this is?” I asked our oldest daughter, who had joined my husband and me on our catamaran’s flybridge. It was a question I’d asked repeatedly over the past couple of days and the girls had come to understand that the requisite answer was simply, “the life.”

“The life, Mom,” she obliged, smiling.

Yup. This was the life.

Gina DeCaprio Vercesi

Related: The Caribbean Island That's Quietly Luring Americans Away From the 50 States

My family and I were on the second night of a weeklong boating adventure in the British Virgin Islands with the Moorings, the region’s first, and most established, charter company. By luck, the trip coincided with the April full moon and I’d finagled our itinerary to include an overnight stop in Trellis Bay, a popular live-aboard artists’ community on Beef Island near the easternmost tip of Tortola. The bay has long played host to a well-loved full moon celebration and as night fell, the beach in front of us became illuminated by the glow of floating fireballs, hand-cut steel spheres crafted by local artist Aragorn Dick-Read.

On shore, the crescent of sand along the bay was full of revelers — locals and boaters, families and couples — the spicy scent of roti in the air. Brightly costumed Moko Jumbies whirled high above the crowd, bending and swaying rhythmically while balancing on impressively tall stilts. Friends gathered around beachfront bonfires, kids scampered by in the sand, and visitors flowed in and out of Aragorn’s shop, admiring sculpture, pottery, and silk-screened t-shirts — artwork that barely escaped annihilation by the large sailboat launched onto the beach last September during Hurricane Irma’s violent wrath.

The water is the first thing you notice when coming in for a landing at Tortola’s Terrance B. Lettsome International Airport — deep indigo seas that lighten to lapis, turquoise, and finally ultramarine as they near the shore. But after that, you notice the boats, one after the other, wrecked on the beach of neighboring Trellis Bay. Tipped on their sides in an unnatural fashion, there they lie, heavy on the sand, unable to move. Hulls smashed, masts broken, sails ripped.

Related: As the Caribbean Rebuilds, Now Is an Important Time to Visit

With paint and a brush, Aragorn had transformed the boat that crashed just feet from his studio’s walls into a sort-of temporary installation piece, but he prefers the beach sans shipwreck. “There’s only so much art you can do with fiberglass and crappy aluminum,” he joked, when I asked him about the green swirls decorating the boat’s hull. “I painted on it for a while but then I tired of it. I’ve been living in hope that it will go. It’s a bit of a grim reminder, really, and I think we have enough grim reminders around here.”

Nearly six months to the day after a double-header of record setting, category five hurricanes tore through the Caribbean, vestiges of the storms — "Irmaria," as the two are now called locally — were visible everywhere. Cars sport makeshift windows fashioned from thick plastic and duct tape. Island hillsides, while beginning to robe themselves in fresh, verdant foliage, remain covered in a gnarled tangle of twisted limbs. Once-lush palm trees stick out like telephone poles, stripped of their shady fronds by the hurricanes’ savage winds.

It’s heartbreaking to imagine what people endured during the storms and the hardships they continue to deal with in the aftermath. Most lost everything they own. Still, travelers shouldn’t think twice about returning to the idyllic tropical archipelago. Power has been restored throughout the islands and clean up and recovery efforts are in full swing everywhere you look. And as BV-Islanders love to say, the water is just as blue, the sand is just as white, and the rum is just as strong — they don’t call them Painkillers for nothing.

Those infamous nutmeg-dusted cocktails aren’t the only things making a comeback. The British Virgin Islands have long been celebrated as being the sailing capital of the Caribbean and the territory’s loyal yachting community has begun returning in droves, indicated by the flotillas of gleaming white monohulls and catamarans dotting the turquoise waters when we were there this past spring.

In early April, colorful sails billowed in the islands’ famed tradewinds during the 47th-annual BVI Spring Regatta and Sailing Festival, the first international event to be held after the hurricanes. Throughout the week, guests lounged on the decks of catamarans, mooring balls at popular anchorages were full of boats, and the rum flowed liberally at everyone’s favorite beach bars. “The marine industry was without a doubt the first to make a comeback,” Judy Petz, the Regatta’s director, told Travel + Leisure. “Holding the event gave the whole community purpose. People kept signing up to race — even people who had never come down here before.”

Though a handful of hotels and guesthouses have reopened recently, the best way to visit the region sooner rather than later is on board a charter yacht. Earlier this year, the Moorings, which continues to be the islands’ biggest charter company, added 130 new boats to their fleet, an investment of $66.5 million. On top of that, the Moorings’ boat resuscitation efforts continue to move forward at full steam. A big team of fiberglass experts is hard at work getting vessels back on the water and soon the entire fleet will be at or very near pre-hurricane numbers.

Local restaurants, shops, markets, and well-loved watering holes have been revived as well and the entire industry desperately needs the support of tourist dollars to help continue rebuilding both infrastructure and their livelihood. Fortunately, island hopping through the archipelago offers an easy and gorgeous way to spread the love — and the wealth.

“It’s like coming back to the old days,” Petz said of sailing in the BVI right now. “The waters are as pristine as ever but there are far fewer boats out there. It’s almost like you have the islands to yourself. The beauty that surrounds you — that’s what it’s all about.”

Here’s our guide to what’s happening in the best-loved anchorages of the British Virgin Islands.

Gina DeCaprio Vercesi

Getting There

Several U.S. cities offer direct flights into Cyril E. King airport on neighboring St. Thomas. The Road Town Fast Ferry travels between Charlotte Amalie, St. Thomas and Road Town, Tortola (where the Moorings is based) three times a day — twice a day on Sundays. Since it is one of the U.S. Virgin Islands, U.S. citizens don’t need a passport to fly into St. Thomas, but a valid passport is required for entry into the British Virgin Islands.

Alternately, several smaller airlines along with private charters operate flights into Tortola’s Terrance B. Lettsome (Beef Island) airport from San Juan, Puerto Rico.

Where to Stay

Right now (and even after the territory’s full recovery), chartering a sailing or power yacht is the absolute best way to visit the British Virgin Islands. Your accommodations are covered, you’re positively guaranteed a 360-degree water view, and there’s no shortage of services available to boaters. Mooring balls remain plentiful in every anchorage — and fewer boats for the time being means less jockeying for space — dingy docks are solid in most bays, and provisions, which are abundant in Road Town, are becoming more readily available at smaller island outposts in Trellis Bay, Scrub Island, Leverick Bay, and Cane Garden Bay.

If terra-firma is more your style, options expand daily. Cooper Island Beach Club, an eco-resort with its own on-site nano-brewery, reopened with aplomb on April 1 and guests would be hard-pressed to find any evidence of the devastation that existed just a few months earlier. Settle into one of 10 beachy-chic cottages overlooking picturesque Manchioneel Bay, which is especially popular with sea turtles.

Although Virgin Gorda’s much-loved North Sound suffered some of the storms’ most devastating destruction, luxurious Oil Nut Bay, tucked into a pristine cove in Eustatia Sound, has both private villas and ocean view suites ready to receive guests. Meanwhile, just across the water from Trellis Bay, Scrub Island Resort and Marina has several rooms in their Marina Village available along with a newly refurbished, multi-tiered pool, and a diverse menu of watersports.

Gina DeCaprio Vercesi

Where to Drink (and Eat)

Bars and restaurants throughout the BVI exude the ultimate in laid-back island vibes and many of the territory’s favorites are open for business. Standing at the helm of the post-hurricane recovery ship is the Soggy Dollar on Jost Van Dyke — the infamous White Bay watering hole was one of the first in the region to reopen after the September storms, inspiring plenty of others to do the same.

In Jost’s Great Harbor, island icon Foxy Callwood’s namesake Foxy's Tamarind Bar is serving up their famous barbecue once again and the Calypsonian crooner himself will likely be there singing his now-famous post-Irma ditty.

Meanwhile, on Norman Island, Pirates Bight is in full swing, delivering cold beers and delicious roti. And though the recently announced (and quite controversial) relocation of the legendary Willy T from the Bight to Peter Island may redirect diehard loyalists across the way to the barge’s new home in Great Harbor, Norman will likely remain a popular first night stop on the charter circuit.

It will be quite some time before the Bitter End Yacht Club — which is near and dear to pretty much everyone’s hearts — rises from Virgin Gorda’s North Sound wreckage, but Leverick Bay has been doing a great job of bringing boaters to the area. The resort’s open-air restaurant on the second floor overlooks the entire bay, which twinkles after the sun sets. Kick off the evening with a cocktail of rum and laughter at Michael Beans’ popular Happy Arrr show by the shoreline.

For a bit of glamour, island style, Restaurant (yes, that’s its name) at the Cooper Island Beach Club serves a gorgeous menu featuring a bounty of local produce, fresh fish, and innovative cocktails by the sea. After dinner, spend some time sipping spirits sourced from the Caribbean and beyond in the resort’s new Rum Bar, where over 100 varieties are on hand for tasting and mixing.

On Land and Sea

Snorkeling and diving the prolific reef systems spread around the 60 islands, islets, and cays that make up the British Virgin Island archipelago remain one of visitors’ favorite activities and in early April, the majority of the popular reefs we explored were in sound shape. Beyond the best-known spots — Monkey Point on Guana Island, Norman Islands Caves, The Indians, Cistern Point on Cooper Island, The Dogs — your charter captain will be able to take you to all sorts of hidden coral gardens teeming with colorful marine life.

Beaches throughout the territory continue to inspire expat dreams, despite the absence of the lush, jungle-like setting provided by abundant palms and sea grapes. Still new trees are being planted all the time; even Sandy Spit, which has been reduced to a true spit of sand, has a tiny grove of baby coconut trees in its center. Secluded swaths of shore await, some of the most sublime, even with a bit of storm detritus, being Deadman’s Bay (Peter Island), Devil’s Bay (Virgin Gorda), Prickly Pear Island (across from Leverick Bay), and White Bay (Jost Van Dyke).

from travelandleisure.com

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