#they dug themselves into a hole with the last movie by ending the story but that’s another conversation

[ladoddsy]

when i was a kid (maybe 9 or 10) our school was studying WWII and a classmate's granddad came in to talk about growing up in our part of the country during WWII. he was a kid through to young teenager during the war. for an hour he entertained with stories about him and his friends getting time off school to work the allotments, the american and polish airmen that settled in our town who came with sweets and errands, the freedom that had during the summers because people weren't paying attention to them. he told us stories about pranking farmers, and the black GIs who were always so happy and polite when interacting with his family. for the whole hour he was funny and nostalgic, talking about his time growing up and the joyful period of being a child. right at the end, he spent the last five minutes bringing it back home. he was fortunate, no one in his immediate family died in the war. but friends of his lost parents, uncles, older brothers. he saw it break them while they struggled to understand what had happened. he recounted the celebration in the street after victory was declared. people were drinking, dancing, and playing music, but an old man sat on a bench outside his house in tears the entire day. people took turns comforting him but he just cried all afternoon. he had lost two boys in the war, still teenagers when they died. my classmates granddad told me before the war he was a much admired butcher's assistant, but after the war he receded into his home and was rarely seen looking anything but sad. i was a kid, who couldn't quite fully appreciate what was being told to me, but the message and imagery dug deep into my subconscious and i think was one of the most important lessons when considering the nature of war and moral victories. in a movie when the heroes engage in self-sacrifice to stop the big bad the conclusion is elation and relief, but they destroyed themselves for a world they never saw, and those who loved and knew them will never get to experience the world they created with them. WWII was a moral victory over fascism, but that does not change the lives lost and the hole they created

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Full moon meetings

Werewolf!Daryl Dixon x Reader

You get stuck in the woods, surrounded by walkers when something saves your life.

Running from walkers was terrible. The only upside here was that you were alone and you could hide way easier than with a group. The other bad part was that it was currently late at night and you had to leave most of your stuff at your campsite because of the small herd that woke you up. The slightly better part was the full moon brightening the area which helped you spot a cabin up ahead to hide in until the walkers passed.

You rushed in and blocked the door behind you, waiting for the herd to pass. When it finally did you carefully scouted the way you came from and backtracked towards your campsite with the hopes that everything was still fine. On your way back you managed to avoid running into another small group of walkers but your camp was ravaged. You could find two knives that you took with you but the bag of food you had to leave behind was trampled completely. Now you were stuck in the woods, alone and with no food.

Your group had ditched you after you've gotten in a fight with someone and they all chose their side instead of yours. You sighed and dug around for anything that was still good enough to take with you and left for the cabin again. Memories of the fight that got you into this mess kept repeating in your head, causing you to not notice a ditch that you casually stepped into and slipped with a shriek, alarming all the walkers you so desperately tried to avoid. This time you didn't have enough time to escape and ended up surrounded, slowly taking down stumbling walkers but it wasn't long before you had them all getting too close too fast and there was no way out of this for you this time.

Not until you heard more growling, but a different kind then walkers' growls. You cowered down and hid your head between your knees, just waiting for it all to be over with as the growling became louder and the shine of the moon seemed to disappear underneath you. There was more growling and a lot of movement but nothing seemed to be directed at you and it surprised you how long you were actually surviving this whole thing. When the walkers' growls died down and the movements seemed to stop, the moon shone on the ground near you again and you carefully lifted your head to look at what happened, only to touch your nose against something wet before opening your eyes. You jumped up with a scream and ran off in the opposite direction, frantically looking back to see a giant creature standing among the corpses of the walkers that surrounded you just now. It didn't seem to move as you slowed your run and rounded it from a large distance, back on your way to the cabin to hole up in for the night, hoping the creature wasn't gonna attack you when it got hungry again. Finally back at the cabin you sat down and let out all the anger and frustration you had bottled up and cried into the murky bed that sat in the far corner. A group of walkers got in the way of his search for food. These nights were best for hunting and he always brought back the largest catch for the community. the ones who knew never spoke about it, and the ones who didn't never seemed to question it and somehow all accepted that the moonlight helped seeing late at night so it was easier to make multiple kills in one night. The group of walkers was a big one, but split after a noise somewhere further down into the woods which he also decided to follow. He came across a small campsite with only one sleeping bag and minimal supplies when another small group passed through, ruining everything in sight. He decided to watch from a distance to see what the walkers were fixated on and after a while of observing he ended on a survivor in the middle of another small section of the herd, surrounded and unable to get out by themselves. He watched as the person gave up and crawled down. As if his body moved on its own he jumped in and started gnawing away at the walkers, clawing and biting at them until all of them were down. He stepped away from the girl and sniffed around her, trying to smell for other humans or any sign of a walker bite but he found none. While he was busy she had raised her head and bumped her nose against his and jumped up with a shriek. He stepped back in confusion and stared as she ran off into the distance. He stalked her back to the cabin and decided to go back to hunting after seeing she got in safe.Normally he'd store his kills in the cabin but for now he'd have to think of something else.

You woke up later, your eyes still hurt from crying so it took a while longer to get adjusted to the darkness. When you were able to see properly again you checked out the cabin again, better this time now that you were safe and rested. While staring at the far wall you dragged yourself out of bed, stepping on something and dropping to the floor. Said something moved. "What the.. Shit!!" You called out as you tried to get away from the thing that you ran into earlier. It was large, covered in fur, and ..snoring? No, that wasn't a snore. That was more of a huff. Shit, you woke it up. It grumbled as it opened an eye to see what happened and saw you on the floor, staring in fear. It decided to get up and move further away from the bed and plop down on the floor again, keeping an eye on you until it had settled and closed them again to continue its sleep. Carefully getting back up you to make it back to the bed you spotted something near the door. Taking a better look you saw it was a pile of animals, not chewed down or torn apart but seemingly skillfully hunted. From what you could see there wasn't a lot of blood on them but their necks were clawed open or twisted in a gross way so you stopped looking and lied back down. Rest didn't really come anymore so when it was getting brighter outside you carefully snuck out of the cabin with all your stuff and left without waking the thing that accompanied you.

"I'm heading back to my group now, bye." You whispered softly as you closed the cabin door and walked off to what you hoped was your next safe stop and some food.

After what felt like an eternity you managed to catch a fish to fry and finally eat something. You took a break at the riverside and moved on after you had rested enough. You walked for a bit when you ended up on a road with a sign telling you about a place called Alexandria, a safe space according to the writing. It felt like a dream come true and you quickly made your way towards where the sign told you to go and close to sundown you finally arrived at the gates. You were quickly called after by someone on top of the gates. They asked you all kinds of questions  after someone opened one part of the gates before letting you in. A small group had gathered already and a guy named Aaron had given you some water and was talking to you together with another guy who introduced himself as Rick. He was a lot less nice than Aaron but you understood where his concerns came from. "She's fine. Quit bein' harsh on her." A gruff voice spoke from behind them. A guy with long shaggy hair moved into the group and you tried your hardest to remember if you ever saw him before but you had no idea who he was. "Ya said ya were goin' back to yer group. Why're ya here alone?" The two other men looked at him with confused looks on their faces but you tried to go along with what he said. "Yeah, I don't have a group. Thanks again for saving my ass. I didn't want to be bothering you any more than I already did." You said apologetic, hoping you came across convincing enough. "S'alright. good ya found this place." He added before going into a discussion with the other two, just out of your earshot. The man named Rick came back and brought the news that you were accepted into their community as long as you posed no threat to anyone and pulled your weight in the group. You agreed to all the terms he gave you and led you to an empty home where you could live for tonight. They all understood you were tired and left you alone for the time being. After you cleaned yourself up you went to sit down on your porch to take in your surroundings. It all felt surreal, it looked like this place had never even seen a walker at all.

"Hey, you." The guy from before made his way over to your porch and sat down next to the bench, keeping an acceptable distance to not scare you off. You welcomed him and moved down to sit closer so you could talk easier. "You saved me last night, didn't you." You asked quietly, not sure if it was something okay to ask about. He nodded and thanked you for not freaking out about it. "S'alright. My name's Daryl."

"Thank you for saving my ass, really. And for  saying what you did when I got here." You had introduced yourself before at the gate and now you talked about how you lost your group and ended up in the area. It was clear you were skilled enough to survive on you own as long as you didn't get caught off guard. "So, am I allowed yo ask about last night?" You wondered carefully, earning a smile and a nod. He told you about his hunting trips during the full moons and the further his story went, the more he wondered how you were so calm about it all. "I guess I have a soft spot for big monsters that are nice to people? I used to watch old monster movies for days on end before al of this." You turned away shyly. "I gotta admit, I've always been a sucker for werewolves." Saying that out loud made you want to curl up and disappear, but instead of being answered with something hurtful or being laughed at, you got a genuine smile and a "Glad I saved yer ass, then." He replied casually. "Finally someone who ain't scared of that side." The sad tone in his voice was hard to miss now and you felt bad for him. You gave him your biggest smile and leaned closer to him. "I like both of your sides."

You were new here and it was all still a little scary, but you knew it was all going to be alright with your big, not so bad wolf at your side.

[heavencollins]

David Bruckner's The Night House: Mental Illness and the Effect it Has on Loved Ones

spoiler filled sections up ahead, go forth at your own risk.

The Night House is a tour de force. It's a fresh take on the classic horror metaphor for mental illness and how it affects your day to day life. The film opens after the catalyst that thrusts us into the story; Beth, played by Rebecca Hall, says her goodbyes to a family member/family friend at the door of her house. Once inside, surrounded by huge glass windows and doors, she throws a tin-foil covered casserole in the trash, and pours a glass of wine.

The film is slow, crawling, but never boring. It keeps viewers in the dark about things until we absolutely need to know. Beth’s husband, Owen, shot himself on their boat in the middle of the lake their property sits on. Built by Owen, Beth feels like she’s never alone now that he’s gone. When the sun sets, she can’t tell when her conscious life ends and her sleep life begins, often found waking up in the middle of random rooms throughout the house. Her friends are concerned, her neighbor is concerned, but she knows that something is happening.

Owen kept secrets. There is something in the back of Beth’s head that begins to feed that thought into her mind. Her “dreams”, or maybe bouts of psychosis, lead her further down that rabbit hole with visions of Owen and hearing his voice behind her shoulder. She finds the journal that held his floor plans for the house, but as she fingers through the journal deeper and deeper, nothing starts to make sense. Why is there a reverse floor plan of their house? What is this figure he drew in the middle of it? Why does he write about tricking something?

Beth reveals to her work friend that when she was a teenager, she died in a car crash. She was dead for four minutes, lungs crushed, heart not working, but was somehow resuscitated. Owen was the only person she ever told what she saw in the afterlife. Nothing. She saw nothing.

Furthering Beth’s paranoia, the suicide note that Owen left states that Beth was right, there is nothing. That nothing is following her, and she is safe. She keeps the letter with her, the blood stained envelope, messy handwriting. But what could be following her?

In the woods, after having one last dream about the reverse house, she finds the house Owen was hiding from her. Plywood and tarps and garbage bags form the skeleton, no furniture, just empty. Except for a little figure in the middle of a room upstairs. A voo-doo doll of some sort, with pins stuck through planned locations. She runs to her neighbors house, begging for more information on it, and learns that the neighbor once saw Owen bring another woman there, and left covered in mud. He never saw something like that again, and promised Owen he would never tell Beth on him.

Owen was stalking girls that looked like Beth. He has photos on his computer of women that look just like her, but slightly different. Hundreds of photos. Beth, in a desperate state, goes back to the reverse house. Begging for Owen to contact her once again. It’s night time, it’s raining, and everything is soggy. Her foot falls through a floor board, revealing bags of dead bodies. The bodies of the dead women.

Beth calls her friend in a state of shock, but it’s late, so she doesn’t answer the phone and leaves a voicemail stating that she never should have dug deeper, that she made a terrible mistake. In the bathroom, Beth calls for Owen, and a message appears on the fogged up shower wall: Here.

But it isn’t Owen that is there, it’s something else. It’s nothing. It’s the Nothing that Beth saw when she died for four minutes. It’s the Nothing that Owen has been trying to stave off for all these years, creating a duplicate of their house, placing a voo-doo doll in the house to trap the Nothing, murdering nearly exact replicas of Beth to try and trick Nothing. But Nothing figured it out, sooner rather than later, and he was here to take Beth back with him for good. Owen wasn’t there to protect her anymore. The Nothing drove Owen to kill himself.

In an earlier scene, Beth talks to her coworkers about Owen’s death, and they ask her if there were any warning signs. Beth tells them that she always struggled with mental illness, not Owen, that Owen is who took her out of those dark periods all the time, that he is the one who constantly made the bad thoughts go away, but that maybe it finally got to him and she’s the reason he died. Everybody tells her mental health isn’t contagious like that, but she laughs. Now, Beth knows the truth. It isn’t contagious, but the Nothing will do anything to get her.

Owen fought it for as long as he could, he built this house by himself so he knew exactly what he needed to do in the reverse house, even when Beth recorded him and told him that they could’ve hired people to build the house, and he just shakes his head. He built this house to protect Beth, to keep her safe, surrounded by windows that allow anyone to look in but still act as walls. He found as many replicas of Beth as he could, going as far as to seduce and murder them in his reverse house, while going home and still loving Beth. He was arguably possessed by the Nothing. But he didn’t want Beth to leave this mortal realm, and instead, took his own life.

The suicide note should have acted as a warning to Beth that something was going to happen, we can infer that the Nothing probably persuaded Owen to write it, to make her feel safe. The dreams, or most likely bouts of psychosis that Beth went under at night time were caused by the Nothing trying to get her to feel safe, to make her feel that it was Owen’s presence.

In Beth’s world with the Nothing, everything is dark. There are two moons; a red moon, and a normal moon, right next to each other. The Nothing lures Beth onto the boat, the same boat that Owen killed himself on. The Nothing presents as Owen, but has a dark voice, a brooding energy. The Nothing hands Beth the same gun that Owen used to shoot himself. She plays it over in her head, running the gun through her hands.

In the “real” world, Beth’s friend comes running out to the dock, after realizing that the house was empty and the gun was missing. It’s morning time, but not in Beth’s world. Everything is so dark, but Beth’s friend’s voice keeps breaking through. Beth drops the gun. She tells the Nothing, that there is nothing. After she says this, Beth’s friend grabs her off the boat, and they swim back to the dock. The movie ends with both of them getting to safety.

So what does that ending really mean?

Beth finally came to terms with her mental health, and how to live with it on her own. She knows the Nothing has no power over her, as she can take control of her own life. Owen succumbs to it, but she doesn’t have to. By standing up to the Nothing, she knows she can face anything now, even in the face of darkness itself.

The Night House is a perfect, allegorical tale of what it means to be a depressed adult with a seemingly normal life. You can hide from everything, but it’s always going to creep back into your life. But it also begs the question of how far you would go for the person you love the most, the person you would do anything for. Owen paid with his life for the woman he loved. It’s not necessarily romantic, but it shows the effect that depression has on loved ones, and how sometimes love isn’t enough, and the person has to help themselves rather than rely on those around you.

[andrewmoocow]

Steven Universe Alternate Future chapter 22: Pumpkin Patch (originally published on August 9, 2021)

AN: At long last, the homestretch of Part 3, which I have already dubbed the Tearjerking Three last time. And for our first entry into this trilogy, we finally get an update on the relationship between Peridot and Lapis, which I found to be done so dirty in Future as a Lapidot shipper. I mean, they didn't even interact with each other even when they were in the same episode together! Plus, Pumpkin just disappeared into thin air once the movie came along, leaving the only hint of where she is now are those similar gourd puppies from The Future. But enough griping, let's get my personal answer on what really happened, and maybe a big surprise that I no doubt have already spoiled on DeviantArt anyways.

Synopsis: Steven, Peridot and Lapis reminisce on the anniversary of Pumpkin's death.

Cast:

Zach Callison as Steven, Pumpkin

Shelby Rabara as Peridot, Squaridot

Jennifer Paz as Lapis, Laz, Zuli

Estelle as Garnet

Michaela Dietz as Amethyst, Ocean Jasper

Deedee Magno-Hall as Pearl

Uzo Aduba as Bismuth

Amy Sedaris as Teal Zircon

Jeff Bergman as Farmer

Featuring Billie Eilish as Turquoise

--

"Maybe I'll find myself smiling on that distant shore," Steven sang to himself while gazing at his watch as the oven timer counted down in front of him. "Maybe I'm not alone."

The timer beeped, notifying Steven that whatever he had in the oven was ready. After putting on some oven mitts and opening the oven, Steven pulled a pumpkin pie out and set it on the counter to cool. "This one is for you two, guys." He said before gazing at a nearby calendar that read June 7th. "I remember it like it was yesterday." Steven then began to reminisce on the aftermath of his visit to Homeworld.

--

A few weeks the Crystal Gems have successfully convinced the Diamonds to help them in healing the corrupted Gems on Earth, these Gems now needed somewhere to live. As far as Steven knew, there was no way they could expand the Temple to make room for all of them, and he's sure none of the newly healed Gems wanted to return to Homeworld, so the Crystal Gems decided that their only choice now was to build them their own little town. They had some basic ideas down, but all they needed now was a name.

"How about Peritropolis?!" Peridot suggested as she wrote down her choice of name on the whiteboard, with little sketches of her face surrounding the name for emphasis. "Pretty cool, huh?"

"How about something that won't stroke your ego?" Steven frowned at the idea.

"What about Barnstantinople?" Lapis proposed. "We are building it around where the barn used to be after all."

"Speaking of which, how's clean-up on that going?" Amethyst asked, looking out the window to gaze at the wreckage that was once Lapis and Peridot's barn house home. "I think some bits of it might be useful somehow."

"I say we put that on hold." Lapis stated. "That old barn caused just as much harm to Peridot and me as much as it did good."

"You serious about this?" Peridot asked her blue roommate. "I mean, we had so many good memories in there."

"Yeah, and a lot of those memories were you just bending over backwards trying to keep me happy." Lapis added. "I know you're still sad about me jumping ship and coming back with only a "Hey", but I still got things to work out, y'know."

"OK." Peridot said just as their pet Pumpkin opened the door. "Oh, hey Pumpkin!"

In contrast to Peridot being excited to see Pumpkin, the little canine fruit let out an exhausted bark before sitting down to nap, revealing wrinkles around her eyeholes.

"Hey, is your little buddy there doin' alright?" Bismuth asked. "I barely know a thing about the lifespan of organic creatures, but even I know she ain't doing so hot."

"Oh, I'm sure she's just tired!" Peridot assured Bismuth. "Just needs to rest, that's all!"

"Don't be so sure Peridot." Garnet advised the little Gem. "Pumpkin was brought to life with magic, which means she's probably lived longer than a pumpkin normally does."

"Just let her be happy Garnet." Pearl whispered into Garnet's ear. "She's already been through so much recently, and I don't think she can take anymore."

"You sure she's OK Dottie?" Steven asked Peridot regarding Pumpkin. "Nothing lasts forever, you know."

"Oh, she just needs some extra time in the Sun!" Peridot laughed. But despite her insistence, that wasn't how the story really went.

--

"Okay, a little to the left!" Peridot commanded Squaridot as the eye Gem Peridot levitated a lifeguard chair around while Bismuth, Ocean Jasper & Teal Zircon dug up the ground to build a swimming pool. "No, your other left!" she corrected herself. "Wait wait, your other OTHER left!"

"There's no such thing as an other other left!" Squaridot yelled and grumpily set the chair down next to where she was standing. "How's this?"

"Perfect." Peridot gave her fellow technician a thumbs up before turning around to see the Lapis twins walk towards the construction site. "Oh, I see our lifeguards wanna start early!"

"Why was it necessary for us to dress in these?" Laz wondered while modeling the red one-piece she was wearing. "I don't think red is my color."

"I don't know about you Laz, but I make this look good!" Zuli declared while flaunting her body in a matching outfit. "We look just like the hotties on Coast Patrol or Destiny from CPH season 3! By the way, where's Lapis? She's head lifeguard, so shouldn't she be out here with us?"

"She still has the suit, but she's not coming out because today is a special day." Peridot stated. "It's the anniversary of a certain something."

"Hey, I think I can see Steven's car!" Ocean Jasper cried out as she peeked out of the hole to find Steven disembarking from his Dondai Supremo and walking over with the pumpkin pie in hand. "And he's got a pie, maybe as thanks for our hard work."

"Naw, I don't think it's for us Ocean." Bismuth said just as Steven walked over to Peridot. "I think we should leave them alone for a bit and get back to work."

"Aw, but I wanted a pie!" Teal Zircon complained.

"I see you got the pie." Peridot said to Steven while gazing at the pie in his hands. "In case you're wondering, we worked on a new meep morp last night dedicated to her."

"Okay, why don't you show me?" Steven offered.

"I'd be happy to." Peridot smiled before turning back to everyone at the in-progress pool. "Keep up the good work everyone, I'll just be taking the rest off!"

"Yeah, take some time for yourself, Peri." Bismuth replied while Squaridot used her burgeoning ferrokinesis to lift the blacksmith out of the pool. "Just don't get too teary-eyed and fill up the pool early."

"Yeah, we're planning on filling the pool for our opening ceremony!" Teal called while struggling to get out.

"And I'm just gonna catch some rays." Laz declared as she sat down on a lawn chair, pulled some sunglasses over her eyes, and began sunbathing. However, her moment of peace was cut off by Zuli loudly blowing into her whistle and laughing.

"So, who's the pie really for Bis?" Ocean Jasper asked as she climbed out the pool before helping Teal and the two sat down next to Bismuth.

"You two got a moment?" Bismuth asked, and the Jasper and Zircon nodded in affirmation. "Well, the pie is actually for a friend of theirs."

--

Steven and Peridot kept walking away from the pool and eventually found themselves in front of the Little Homeworld house that Lapis & Peridot shared. It looked like a smaller version of the barn the two Gems once lived in, but instead of being decorated with a mishmash of items around the barnyard, it now looked like Peridot did most of the construction with bits of metal and advanced technology sprinkled onto a simple-looking two-story cabin.

"Hey Lapis, we're here." Steven called out to Lapis as he and Peridot entered the cabin to find Lapis napping on the couch with a manga on her lap and a red one-piece hanging on a clothes hanger nearby. "Lapis, wake up."

"Agh, don't go with her Pierre!" Lapis yelled as she woke up from her nap and rubbed her eyes to find Peridot & Steven before her. "Sorry you guys, I was trying on my lifeguard uniform, but then I got bored and decided to relax a little."

"You still remember what day it is?" Peridot asked while Steven presented his pumpkin pie.

"Yeah, I still do." Lapis declared sadly. "Want to see the meep morp we've been working on, Steven?"

"Sure." Steven replied before the two Gems took him upstairs to their shared bedroom & workshop, where a very large sculpture of Pumpkin stood, a big smile permanently etched onto the front beneath a pair of innocent eyes. "Almost like the real thing. Except bigger."

"Showing this to you makes me miss her even more." Peridot began to hold back tears. "I still remember how I coped with it too."

--

The groundbreaking ceremony of what would soon become Little Homeworld went quite swimmingly for the Crystal Gems, thanks to the support of their Beach City friends and the Diamonds. But amidst the rejoicing of a new beginning for Gems on Earth, there was some bad news that flew right under everyone's noses.

After Peridot marked the giant pit where the barn once was with Little Homeworld's flag, Pumpkin came strolling up to her green owner looking far wearier and more decayed than she did previously, a sight which worried them greatly. As soon as the ceremonies ended, Pumpkin was rushed back to the beach house.

"Please Steven, you gotta do something!" Peridot begged Steven while Pumpkin laid before the trio with a heavy sigh emitting from her mouth. "Pumpkin doesn't have much time left, surely you must have the solution like you always do!"

"I'm really sorry Peridot." Steven said regretfully. "As much as I would love to help you and Lapis out, Pumpkin wasn't long for this Earth anyways. Death is a perfectly natural part of life. It can be real sad and scary to watch someone you treasured so dearly go, but ultimately, their time will come all the same."

"So, she was going to die regardless?" Lapis said apprehensively while stroking the living gourd's rotting body. "I don't really see how this is possible since you did bring her to life with your powers, but I can deal with it."

"Well, I'm not!" Peridot objected tearfully. "It's not fair! I've already been through so much, why does the universe have to keep nailing the hammer into the coffin?!"

"Peridot, I know you're upset, but you gotta listen." Steven tried comforting his little green pal. "Death is completely natural, even if it's scary. I mean, my dad might die someday, and so might Connie. I'm not sure if I can die like a human though."

"Well, your race is different." Peridot declared. "None of you will ever know what it's like to live forever!" With that, she stormed out of the beach house to vent, leaving her two friends to worry for Peridot.

"I don't think I want to know where this is going." Lapis muttered.

"If it's anything like what happened to Peridot after you left Earth, I don't think she'll take it very well." Steven agreed.

--

Using a trashcan lid, Peridot flew far away from the general area of Beach City and into the countryside, where farmlands were very prosperous. Farmlands like the ones she and Lapis tended to together in the past, and the ones where Pumpkin was born. The very sight of all these fresh crops made her more miserable. What gave them the right to grow so healthy while Pumpkin looked so withered?

"Rackum frackum produce, I'll show you what for!" Peridot mumbled as she touched down in front of a pumpkin patch and swiftly got to work on destroying them. "You walked so Pumpkin could die!" she yelled as her green body became covered in orange pumpkin insides. "Why can't anything go my way for once?!"

"Hey, get offa my crops ya gremlin!" a farmer yelled at Peridot while stomping over to her with a pitchfork in hand. "You got any idea what it's like to work so hard on a great harvest, only for it to be ruined by a bunch of punks?!"

"No, but I'm sure you don't know what it's like to love someone only to lose them!" Peridot argued with the farmer, a retort that stunned him a little before he tried to look more sympathetic.

"Coping, eh?" the farmer said. "Look, you have every right to get mad, but that don't mean you can just stomp all over someone else's hard work! You gotta find better ways to vent, ya know!"

"Look, sir, I literally just ran away from home, I don't have time right now." Peridot coldly rejected the farmer's advice.

"Well, looks like you left me no choice." The farmer shook his head before reaching behind his back and pulling out a scary mask to frighten Peridot with. "BOOGEDY BOOGEDY BOOGEDY!"

"AAAAAHHHHHH!" Peridot screamed loudly before flying away from the farm on her lid.

--

As soon as Peridot returned to Beach City, she soared right towards Steven's house, where she found him making a grilled cheese sandwich, and began pounding on his window.

"Steven! Steven!" Peridot yelled from outside, getting the half-Gem's attention. "Let me in, I wanna talk!"

"You know you can just come in yourself." Steven suggested before opening the door for his green friend. "How have things been going?"

"I got an idea for you." Peridot stated. "How about in exchange for helping me with Pumpkin, I'll do something for you in return. Just name your price, I'll do anything!"

"Peridot, are you trying to bribe me into saving Pumpkin?" Steven asked. "Didn't I tell you earlier that death is a natural part of life?"

"But you managed to save Lars from death with your crying!" Peridot objected. "Why can't you do the same to Pumpkin?! Why does she have to die while so many other pumpkins have to live?!"

"Pumpkins?" Steven asked. "What other pumpkins?"

"I vented my frustrations by whaling on some farmer's pumpkin harvest." Peridot confessed innocently. "He didn't take too kindly to that."

"I think I know where this is going." Steven realized. "Five Stages of Grief, right? First was anger, now you're bargaining. Which means depression might not be too far behind." Just then, as if on cue, Steven's phone started ringing with a message from Lapis that he readily picked up. "Hello?"

"Steven, is Peridot there?" Lapis asked from the other end of the line. "Ever since she fled the house, I took Pumpkin back to our place, and now she wants to see us both before, you know."

"See what I mean?" Steven declared to Peridot, who was now on the verge of breaking down because now, she finally realized it was too late. "Do you want to see her?"

"Yes please." Peridot began to sob and hugged Steven tight. "Promise me that you won't ever leave too, Steven."

"I promise." Steven stated, hugging Peridot back.

--

Meanwhile, at the massive construction site that would soon become Little Homeworld, Lapis gently watched over the slowly dying Pumpkin, whose normally bright orange skin now had splotches of grayish-black, as she let out a weak yip. "Don't die yet, sweetie." Lapis assured Pumpkin. "Peridot will be here soon, I know it."

And right on cue, Peridot and Steven soared right towards Lapis on the trash can lid to see Pumpkin off one last time. Peridot raced as fast as she could towards the groundwork for her and Lapis's new home and tightly nuzzled her pet gourd, unaware that it wasn't in the mood for such a tight hug.

"Peridot, let her go! She's in pain!" Lapis yelled while prying the sentient pumpkin from Peridot's embrace, much to the green Gem's agony.

"No, please!" Peridot cried. "Just let me hold her!"

"I'm sorry Peri, but I don't think she can take much more!" Lapis argued while on the brink of crying just as much. "Pumpkin's already dying. She's so scared right now, so let's just-"

"Don't try to argue Lapis." Steven solemnly interrupted Lapis. "Peridot's already having a breakdown as is."

"I'm sorry about that." Lapis quickly apologized before she turned to Pumpkin. "Pumpkin, if you can still hear me, I want you to know that you and Peridot were the only things keeping me sane here, even when I ran off to the moon." She said to the dying fruit. "I can't thank you enough for brightening my day with your cute little smile, your barking, and all the days we spent playing together. Even if we find a replacement, none can ever replace you, little guy."

"You want a turn, Peri?" Steven said to Peridot.

"Fine, but I won't like it." Peridot sniffed loudly as she walked up to Pumpkin. "You were like an offspring to us, Pumpkin." She said quietly. "When I first saw your little carved face, those adorable stubby legs, it filled my heart with so much joy. Figuratively, of course, since we naturally don't have hearts. But every step we took together, every struggle, kept me grounded here on this crazy planet. Oh stars, now I won't know what to do now."

"Mah, mah," Pumpkin barked weakly with her last breath. "Mommy."

"I promise you," Peridot declared while her gem touched Pumpkin's forehead. "I'll never forget."

And with that, Pumpkin gently shut her eyes, allowing herself to pass on with her mothers and her creator by her side.

--

The funeral that followed was a private affair, with only the other Crystal Gems, Connie and Greg in attendance, and Pumpkin buried outside Peridot & Lapis's house. However, it was after the funeral when trouble began brewing. Just like when she had first begun living with the Gems, Peridot began hiding away in the bathroom for the next week to grieve the demise of Pumpkin and seemed resilient in refusing to come out, no matter how much they tried.

"C'mon P-Dot, open up!" Amethyst called while pounding on the door. "If you're planning on flushing yourself down the toilet again, let me tell you again, I tried that once and it didn't work."

"I think I know what to do." Greg proposed his idea and held up a boombox that began playing a song he knew she would recognize. "I look up to the sky, that's full of stars-"

"I'm trying to mourn here, leave me alone." Peridot despondently declared.

"I say we should respect her wishes." Garnet stated before she turned her gaze to Lapis. "Unless…."

"You think I should go in there?" Lapis asked.

"You are quite possibly Peridot's closest friend." Pearl agreed with Garnet.

"Closest friend?" Bismuth raised an eyebrow. "C'mon, we all know there may be something more than that!"

"Well, okay then." Lapis finally accepted with a shrug and slowly pushed the door open. "Wish me luck." She then said before entering the bathroom and closing it behind her. "You still in here?"

"So, they sent you in now." Peridot observed hoarsely. "I may have lost all hope, but I can still hear you know."

"They do say we're the closest." Lapis said before she sat down on the edge of the tub where Peridot had hidden herself away beneath a cocoon of Steven's bedsheets. "Come on now, get up and sit next to me."

"Okay, if it's you, I'll talk." Peridot succumbed to Lapis's offer and rose from her comfy shell to talk with her barn mate. "I'm sorry for worrying you all this past week, it's just that Pumpkin was basically our baby! Watching her die was like watching a child die!"

"Except the child wasn't human, it was a magical living pumpkin." Lapis remarked, which caused Peridot to glare at her. "No offense."

"But still, outside of our relationship, why did you volunteer?" Peridot wondered.

"Well, because I wanted to return the favor." Lapis answered. "Remember what happened after that boat trip I took with Steven and his dad?"

--

As soon as Lapis dropped Steven and Greg off at the docks following the boat trip gone wrong, she needed someone to lean on in her time of need. It didn't matter who, it could be any of the other Crystal Gems, or one of Steven's human friends. But right now, there was only one person, or rather Gem, that she could turn to.

Lapis could now see the barn in the distance, and as reluctant as she was to admit it, Peridot was the only one who could understand her regarding a certain Quartz. "Peridot, are you there?" she called for her green housemate. "I'm back!"

"Lapis, so glad you could make it!" Peridot exclaimed while racing out of the barn. "I discovered that I can move spoons with my mind, I made some decent progress on my Camp Pining Hearts essay; though I'm still stuck on the poutine theory, and-" However, she realized a bit too late what Lapis was feeling. "Is something the matter?"

"Steven and I found Jasper during the trip." Lapis said morosely. "She wanted to fuse with me again because she says I changed her. And to be honest, I think it was kind of my fault. Unfusing with Jasper drove her mad and I even said I missed taking all my frustrations out on her!"

"Lapis, are you serious?" Peridot gasped in alarm.

"Yes, I'm serious." Lapis declared as her eyes darkened and she turned away from Peridot. "Go ahead, run off and live with the Gems again so you don't have to be another one of my victims. If Jasper says I'm a monster, then I guess I really am one, especially after the way I treated you when we first moved in together."

"Okay Lapis, I don't want your garbage right now!" Peridot yelled, briefly breaking Lapis out of her funk with the almost exact words she described the tape recorder she broke. "I can see you're very stressed out. You want to scream so bad, to hit something, to let your anger out! But whatever you do, don't lose it on other people."

"Wh-what are you saying?" Lapis asked.

"I'm mostly just repeating stuff I read online," Peridot admitted. "I think what you need is a way to vent healthily, maybe on a perfectly defenseless object."

"Like what?" Lapis raised an eyebrow in suspicion.

"One second!" Peridot exclaimed while walking into the barn and coming back out with an alien plush wearing a top hat and bowtie that she gazed at with a solemn expression. "I'm so sorry my sweet." She said softly to the stuffed toy before presenting it to Lapis. "Go ahead, hit it as hard as you can. Or maybe something else violent, whatever."

"Okay." Lapis sighed as she began feeling around the toy for something to do before grabbing at the bowtie and ripping it off the alien's neck, causing some stuffing to spill out of the hole she created. "Whoa."

"So, how did that make you feel?" Peridot asked as the alien dropped from her grip.

"Good." Lapis muttered in awe of what she just did. "I feel so much lighter now, like a real adrenaline burst."

"See, as I told you." Peridot smiled happily. "You just needed healthier ways to relieve stress."

"You're right." Lapis agreed when she got an idea. "Now, how about I try something a little heavier?" She then glanced over to a nearby pickup truck and used the water from Peridot's makeshift pool to lift it into the air. "How about this?"

"Yeah, I think that could work." Peridot nervously replied before Lapis suddenly tossed the truck into the air. "NO WAIT, THAT'S A LITTLE TOO-" she screamed and covered herself to avoid getting hit, but the truck instead crashed into the wall over the barn entrance, creating a massive hole that the vehicle filled. "Hm, guess I was wrong."

"Well, if we're gonna be living here together, why don't we make ourselves at home?" Lapis laughed and put a hand on Peridot's shoulder.

"Yeah, I think this is a good start." Peridot agreed while wrapping her arm around the taller Gem's waist and the two began brainstorming ideas for remodeling the barn.

--

"Yeah, I really was there for you back then." Peridot realized with a grin. "And from then on out, we were so close."

"You bet." Lapis replied and cupped Peridot's face in her hands. "Let me be a shoulder for you to cry on this time. I love you Peridot."

"I love you too Lapis." Peridot responded happily before the two began to kiss, and their gems started glowing as they began to fuse into a tall, slender Gem with turquoise hair, dark cyan hair in the shape of a maple leaf, Peridot's glasses, Lapis's top with a bright yellow star on it, a skirt with a bronze ribbon around her waist and dark teal sandals with bronze accents.

The new, accidental fusion of Peridot and Lapis looked around the bathroom and gazed down at her four hands. Feeling around her body, she felts the gems of her components on her forehead and back before coming to a shocking realization and let out a loud, confused scream. "AAAAAHHHHHHHH!"

"Is something wrong?!" Steven exclaimed as he barged into the bathroom to discover the fusion before him and started screaming as well, but this time in joy. "AAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

"AAAAAHHHHHHHH!" the new fusion continued screaming and covered her face in alarm at Steven as the two continued shrieking at each other.

--

"But was that fusion really an accident or maybe something more?" Peridot asked while she, Steven, and Lapis walked outside to her and Lapis's garden in their backyard.

"Maybe a mix of both?" Lapis answered with a shrug. "I mean, we did kiss each other after saying "I love you" to each other, but the fusion part came out of nowhere."

"Still, we were all so happy to see you two fuse at last." Steven said. "Words could not describe how long I've been waiting for that moment."

"I couldn't shapeshift, so I just assumed I couldn't fuse as well." Peridot observed before they happened upon a makeshift tombstone that read 'In memory of Pumpkin. A good girl to the end.' "You know, all this talk reminds me of a song I've been writing for the past few days. It may seem a little short and I pulled from other sources, but it's the best I got."

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Lapis suggested eagerly. "Sing for us."

"Yeah, we never heard you do a solo before either." Steven agreed with the ocean Gem.

"Okay, if you insist." Peridot declared before she cued a nearby Robonoid tending to the garden to start playing jazzy music, and she started to sing. "My sweet little pumpkin o' mine, a living gourd with a smile so fine. You made us smile with your bark, your stem's like emerald, and filled with seeds of gold. You were our most beloved work of art."

Almost as if Pumpkin was coming back to listen to Peridot's eulogy, many similar living produce like additional pumpkins, some gourds, and squashes, began coming out to watch. "You saw fields of corn, sandy beaches too. In summers so warm, it was just us and you." Peridot continued singing. "And I think to myself, what a wonderful pet."

Soon, Lapis began to join in on the song as well. "Though your time was short, like all things are." She joined Peridot in singing with her own solo. "We'll always think of you, when we look at your star."

"Our sweet little pumpkin of ours," the pair finished the song and embraced each other. "You were a wonderful pet."

With that, the two Gems fused into Turquoise, this time on purpose while surrounded by living Cucurbita, and smiled.

"Thank you for coming today, Steven." Turquoise said to Steven. "It really means a lot to us."

"Nothing to it girls." Steven smiled while rubbing his finger on his upper lip.

In Memory of Thea "Muriel Bagge" White

June 16, 1940 – July 30, 2021

"What courage you have."

--

So ends the first installment of the Tearjerking Three. In comparison to what will come next, I'm pretty sure this will be tears of happiness at these two dorky barnmates basically becoming an item at last and even fusing too (also, I totally took Turquoise's design from @artifiziell, she makes some amazing stuff, go check her out). But next time, we move on from someone being dead for real to someone being dead to Steven. Can you guess which one? Oh who am I kidding, if you watch me on DeviantArt, I basically spoiled everything after this.

[actuallylorelaigilmore]

TATMILB, CHAPTER 4

Penelope spent her life writing love letters, which didn’t seem like a terrible idea until the letters were mailed out and Schneider received one of them. Hoping to fool their exes, they agree to fake a relationship. But are they lying to everyone around them, or to themselves? aka my To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before-inspired AU.

Penelope x Schneider, ODAAT. available on ao3 with extra author’s notes.

Chapter 4: Ben comes to Penelope’s door bearing a letter. Penelope explains the situation to Schneider over ice cream. She scoffs at his proposal but can’t wave it away so easily once she’s alone with her thoughts.

Dear Ben,

It’s been a really long time since I felt the way I did when I was with you--I know talking about it makes me sound like a giddy teenager. 

But in so many ways, that’s how you made me feel. I was full of lighthearted happiness, hormones and that need to know everything about somebody that only happens at the beginning of a relationship.

The story of how we met sounds like a movie: I poured my heart out to you, thinking you were gay and couldn’t possibly be interested in me, and you turned the tables by asking me out. A night full of self-loathing and guilt led to a moment where I felt really attractive. And considering how hard life had been lately, especially in the romance department, it meant a lot that you looked at me in my emotional half-drunk state and saw someone worth getting to know. 

All of that makes how we ended worse. I’m sorry for what happened with Victor, for how easily and how quickly I became a cliche--the ex-wife who takes back her apologetic husband, who believes and trusts when she shouldn’t...who gives up a good man for a familiar one. 

We had fun while it lasted, didn’t we? It’s the what-ifs that haunt me now. The possibilities. Maybe you would have gotten along well with my family, when it was time for you to meet them. Maybe you would have been a good husband someday.

I know I don’t have the right to hold on to you, to the idea of us, when there was barely an us in the first place. Some nights, though, I pull out that mental picture and let myself live inside for it a little while. I still feel happy there. I wonder if you do, too.

Love, Penelope

****

“Ben!”

Penelope steadied herself by gripping Schneider’s arm, which also helped to steady him as they wobbled in the doorway after their near-collision.

She saw the letter Ben was holding, on yellow paper she remembered too well, and offered him an overly-bright smile, aiming it like a shield. “We’re actually just on our way out. Gotta go get dessert for the family before there’s chaos, y’know?”

Her laugh was as forced as her smile, but she ignored the look Schneider gave her and hoped Ben would buy it. He didn’t know her nearly as well; not everyone had Schneider’s keen eye for her tells. 

“This is Schneider,” she added, shutting the door behind the two of them. She kept her grip on his arm, pulling him past Ben. 

“Yeah, hi,” Schneider said, with a facial expression that could best be described as ‘trying to do calculus in his head.’ Great, Penelope thought, now she would have even more to explain to him once they made it free of the building. And Ben.

“Listen, I don’t want to hold you up,” her ex said, lifting the letter to her eyeline. “I just wanted you to know that I got it, but that I’m actually--well, I’m engaged now.”

“Oh, wow! That’s amazing! Congratulations,” she said, shaking his hand and trying to hurry along as though that would be the end of that.

“Penelope.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry. I really enjoyed the time we spent together too. And I did think about you--about us. For a while. That was such a long time ago, though, and where my life is at these days...I’m really happy. I hope you will be soon.”

The hint of pity she detected got her attitude up, but if she made a scene it might bring the family out into the hall, which was the last thing she needed to add to this insanity. She exhaled through her clenched teeth instead.

“Thanks Ben, I appreciate that. I’m glad things are going well for you.”

“Anyway, I wanted to give you this back. It doesn’t feel right keeping it, while I’m planning my wedding to somebody else.”

“Alright. We really gotta go, but I hope the wedding goes great and it doesn’t rain. Best of luck to you both!” she half-shouted as she sped down the stairwell, not bothering to look behind her. Schneider would catch up, and she needed Ben to stop treating her like a crazy woman who was still nursing a crush on him years after they went on a handful of dates.

Not that her behavior in the hall was likely to make her seem more sane. 

Her cheeks were burning as she exited the building, and she wished the air outside were cool enough to settle her racing heart. There was no denying it now--all of her letters must have been sent, every single mortifying one of them. Her innermost thoughts and feelings, directed at men who were never supposed to read them. This was beyond terrible. This was a catastrophe. This was--

“Pen! Wait up!” Schneider let the exit door slam shut behind him, making short work of the distance between them on the way to her car. “You know, I can’t go with you to get ice cream if you leave without me.”

“I know. Sorry.”

The scoop shop was only a five minute drive from their building, but it was a deeply uncomfortable five minutes, with Schneider watching her from the passenger seat and Penelope stuck on the image of Ben and his pretty, sympathetic face handing her back old dreams on paper. 

She hoped he really was blissfully happy with his new fiancée. She hoped they had a long and happy marriage. 

She hoped she never had to see him again.

****

Schneider managed to hold back as they waited in line at the shop, but he was restless next to her, filled with anxiety and questions. Penelope wasn't exactly in a hurry to explain; her nerves mirrored his.

“Let’s just order ours, okay?” She said before they approached the counter. “We can talk while we eat it, then get the rest to go after.”

Schneider nodded. “Sure. Whatever you want.” He ordered an oversized monstrosity, filled with a jumble of flavors and toppings that Penelope eyed with suspicion. 

She got cherry gelato and frowned when he paid for them both, but didn’t bother arguing. She was the one who caused this whole mess--there wasn’t much point to starting a fight on top of it.

Schneider sat down across a corner table from her and made no move to touch his dessert. “Listen, Penelope, I’ve tried not to push. I kept quiet through dinner, I didn’t corner you in a moving vehicle, but I’m kinda out of patience now. What was that back there?”

“At...the hospital?”

It was stupid to try and buy herself more time. She wasn’t sure why she felt so nervous to talk to him--this was Schneider. He always understood even her craziest moments. Yet there she was, still stalling. Keep on digging that hole, Penelope.

“Yes, at the hospital, when you kissed me!” The last part came out louder than he’d intended, and Schneider looked around like they might be under surveillance, before continuing. 

“What was that about?” he pressed. “I thought that I was pretty clear about where I stood, and then you kissed me anyway. No means no, Penelope!”

“Yes...you’re right.” 

When he put it like that, she felt even worse than just embarrassed. If she found out Alex was going around kissing girls who told him they weren’t interested, she would be so pissed at him. She would read him the riot act. What could she possibly say to defend herself to the one man who understood that better than anybody-- who knew her behavior totally contradicted what she believed in?

“Sorry.” She watched her gelato melting in its little cup, swirling it with her spoon. “You’re right, there’s no excuse.”

“I don’t want an excuse--though the apology’s appreciated. I want an explanation. It doesn’t make any sense, what you did. And you always make sense. Come on, talk to me.”

“I don’t have a good explanation.” She sighed, trying her gelato before it was completely liquid. It didn’t taste as good as it would on a day when her life wasn’t unraveling. “It was out of character. No argument there. It just sort of happened.”

“But why?”

“You’re going to think I’m crazy,” she warned him, resigned to the fact that she couldn’t avoid this forever. He practically lived in their pockets--she couldn’t avoid him in general.

“You just made out with me,” he shot back. “I already know you’re crazy.”

“It was one kiss! I did not make out with you.” She dug into her gelato more emphatically, letting him sit with his own melting dish for a minute, almost as annoyed at Schneider as she was at herself for ending up here. 

“That letter that you got from me, it wasn’t the only one I wrote.”

“Okay.” He blinked, taking that in. “You’re in love with people besides me?”

“I’m not in love with anybody, you dope. And I didn’t send you that letter.”

“I’m confused.”

“I write letters. I always have. To process stuff, get my thoughts out. I didn’t have therapy, you know, before the last few years. And between my mom, and the Army, and Victor...I had a lot of stuff to deal with. I’ve never been a diary person, but when things got really intense, I would write...”

“Love letters.” 

“Yeah.”

He nodded as he dug into his ice cream, listening intently now. Schneider was good at that, even when he was visibly baffled--like he seemed now. 

“I used to write other letters too, when I was a kid, letters to my parents when I was upset or frustrated with them. But I never held on to those ones--I had this feeling that no matter how well I hid them, Mami would find them, so I always trashed those. It helped enough, writing them.”

“When it comes to Lydia, I think your paranoia was probably well-founded.” 

There was a hint of a smile teasing the corners of his mouth now, fondness not just for her mom but for Penelope. The wave of relief that flooded her settled some of her anxiety. Kissing him had been dumb and desperate, but she didn’t want it to ruin their friendship. 

One kiss couldn’t do that, right?

He pointed his spoon at her gelato, a silent request. She nodded, passing him her spoon for a taste. She hadn’t really been in the mood for ice cream to begin with; she’d just wanted a place away from home for this confession.

“So, yeah, I write letters sometimes. Not all that often, because I was with Victor for most of my life. There haven’t been that many guys. But when I needed to put those feelings somewhere, I wrote them down and tucked them in my favorite duffel.”

She took her spoon back and gestured with it. “Over the years, I wrote five letters, including yours. And somehow they disappeared along with my duffel bag. The letters got sent out. I realized it when I saw you and Max.”

“And Ben,” Schneider added, putting the pieces together. “So, if that makes three, is the fourth Victor?”

“Oh, god.” She knew, of course she knew, exactly who she’d written her letters to. But she was so busy fighting the initial panic, she hadn’t thought about Victor yet. “Yes, I wrote to Victor. A couple of times. Ay dios mío, I hope that one gets shredded in the mail. I cannot deal with that right now.”

Schneider was lost in thought for a while, long enough that she took her cup to the trash. “Who’s the last one?” he asked when she sat back down. 

“Huh?”

“I’ve known you since you and Victor separated. After Victor, there was Ben, then Max, then I guess you wrote my letter, since it was after Lydia’s hospital stay. I can’t think of anybody else you dated. Did you have a secret lover?”

He looked intrigued by the possibility. She swatted him lightly on the arm. “Don’t be so dramatic. You sound like my mom. The other letter was my first big crush, back in high school, a boy named Joe.”

She reached for his spoon and Schneider let her, bemused. He knew she usually hated his topping combinations. She just needed a second to gather her nerve again. 

“I really am sorry,” she tried to explain, more carefully this time. “For kissing you like that. And for you ever seeing that letter. I was busy trying to figure out how it was possible, and then I saw Max coming, with a letter in his hand too, and I knew what it had to mean. I haven’t spoken to him since we broke up, my head was reeling--I couldn’t imagine explaining to him why he was getting a love letter from me a year later. I panicked.”

Risking a look at him before pinning her gaze back to the table, she continued. “It hit me that if he saw us kiss, he might assume we were a couple and be thrown off enough that I would have time to regroup. We could pretend the letters never happened.”

Schneider’s face was unreadable now. When she gave his spoon back, he didn’t go back to eating, just kept watching her.

“It’s not logical, I get that, but like I said, I panicked. And I know it was wrong of me to pull you into this, but I really would like to pretend the letters never happened, if we could. Especially yours.”

“Yeah?” 

She ran the risk of offending him--she was aware of that--but their friendship was too important for her not to fight for it. She couldn’t tell what Schneider was thinking, though. That same perfectly blank expression stayed in place. At least he hadn’t left the shop yet, Penelope reminded herself. He was still giving her a chance.

“Yes. I was in a terrible place when I wrote your letter, Schneider. It was a few months after Mami’s stroke, after giving up Max had me convinced I’d lost my chance at love, and I was so lonely and scared and sad. About all of that. 

“And there you were, so present and kind...and, well, loving. All the time. You were the one person I knew I could count on and we spent all those nights together. No matter how rough the day had been with the kids or at the hospital, you would find a way to make me laugh. Remember?”

“Of course.” His face was still guarded, but his voice had that comforting softness to it. That tone that meant he was ready to help. The voice of her best friend. 

“I was vulnerable then, and I wrote it all down, because it had to go somewhere. It took me a while to step back from that place, to get back to feeling stable on my own even when you weren’t around. And once I had that distance, that balance back, I could see clearly again. I was never in love with you, not really. I mixed up how much I care about you as part of my family, as my best friend, with love. I mixed up how good you were to me with the idea that we would be good together. 

“Once everything was okay again I felt like an idiot about it, and I was so glad I never said anything. I don’t want to lose you. And I never would’ve sent that letter as some attempt to awkwardly hit on you. I’m mortified to even be talking about it now. So, could we just move on? Like this was a weird day but we both agree it was a fluke and laugh it off?”

“Sure, sure, sure,” Schneider agreed, clearing his throat. “But what about the other letters?”

“What about them?”

“If Max’s letter is like mine, a love letter with no extra context, then are you going to have to do this all over again? Tell him you’re not still in love with him?”

“I-I don’t know. I’m really hoping it won’t come to that.”

“Because he saw us kiss and that’s a magic barrier to all future confrontation...or because you can’t honestly tell him that?”

He knew her too well, Penelope thought. And she’d had to share enough deep emotional truths for one day. 

“Wow, look at the time,” she said, standing and nodding toward to the front counter. “If we don’t get the rest of the treats and head back, they’re gonna think we lied about the whole dessert run.”

She put in the requests that she knew her Mami and Alex would want and moved down to the other end of the counter. Schneider followed, clearing his throat again. 

“What is it?”

“Speaking of lying, I just got a text from Nikki about our kiss.”

“What? How does Nikki know?”

“One of her friends saw us in the parking lot, I guess. Nikki’s super pissed.”

“Have fun with that.” She shook her head. “Luckily for me, I only have to see Nikki at school functions and some of Alex’s games. You’re the one who decided to hook up with her.”

“She’s pissed in a jealous way,” Schneider added thoughtfully.

“I’m shocked.”

“Hey, Pen. Hear me out: what if we kept up the lie for a while?”

“As in, the lie where I kissed you and you freaked out about it?”

“My freakout was in response to your freakout. Glass houses, Penelope. But yeah, the kissing. The public display of affection, emphasis on public. It got Nikki’s attention, and I wasn’t even trying to do that. If seeing me with you makes her realize she misses what we had, maybe we could stop this vicious cycle of breaking up all the time.” 

“You want to pretend to be into each other just so you can get back with Nikki? Gross. No way I’m volunteering to be used for that.”

“Hey, you used me first--and I didn’t volunteer.”

An aproned employee passed her the sack of ice cream and Penelope walked out ahead of him. 

“It would solve your problem too,” Schneider suggested. “Isn’t that why you kissed me in the first place, to make it seem like you were taken?”

“I was temporarily insane,” she insisted. “What’s your excuse?”

“I’m just saying we could both get what we want. Think about it,” Schneider added before mercifully dropping the subject as they made it home.

She ignored Schneider for the rest of the evening, as best she could, until he headed back to his own apartment. If her mom or Alex wondered what took them so long--or why they ate their dessert on the way--neither of them asked. 

****

Penelope was in her bedroom, finally able to take a moment to decompress from the chaos of her life, before it occurred to her to check her phone. She fought so hard to keep Alex off his at the dinner table; it helped a little when she set a good example. 

“Three missed calls,” she told her empty room, staring down at the name next to all three of them. 

“Yep, and you didn’t pick up even once.”

The day had clearly been too much for her, if her imagination was so easily manifesting Max there next to her bed. She closed her eyes for a moment and reopened them, only to find the illusion of him still watching her.

“You can’t call a guy back anymore? Especially after you ditch him in a public place? That’s not like you, Penelope.”

“I’ve been hearing that a lot lately.” 

Okay, so she was hallucinating. Not a big deal. She was stressed out and had him on the brain, especially now.

“Got your letter,” Max said, smiling down at her where she sat. “Of course, you know that already. It’s why you’re avoiding me. How long do you think you can keep that up?”

“I have no idea. How long do you think you’ll keep trying to confront me with it?”

“Don’t ask me. I’m in your head--what do I know. If you want real answers, you should give me a call.”

“Can’t say I like that idea very much.”

“Yeah. If we talk, you’re going to have to answer my questions. Why did you send the letter, why did you write the letter, did you mean what you said.” 

She swallowed hard, staring into Max’s warm eyes. What would she say, when she had to explain it all to him?

“Do you still...love me. That’s the million dollar follow up, right? That’s the one that counts.”

“I’m not ready to explain any of it,” she admitted. “I’m not ready to tell you how I feel. I’m not sure I know, myself.”

“Then you know what you have to do,” Schneider told her, popping up in the dark space where Max had been standing moments before. “Get your cover story on, chica.”

“God, don’t call me that. Don’t call anybody that.”

“All I’m saying is, you can’t avoid Max forever, right? There’s a solution staring you right in the face. What are best friends for, if not to act as a human wall between you and your relationship issues?”

Penelope frowned, trying to find a counterargument. 

“Hey, if you’ve got a better idea, then go ahead...tell me no. A backup plan? Anything?”

“I’m thinking.”

“No, you’re stalling. And the clock is ticking on that strategy. But my plan, it can last as long as we need it to. Until you figure out what you want to do--with Max, Victor, all of them. We can be each other’s wingman and cover story at the same time, Pen. You help me, I help you...everybody wins.”

“Aaagh.” Penelope groaned, gripping hold of her hair for a second. When she lifted her head back up from her hands, she was alone in her room. 

She didn’t know if Schneider’s idea was a brilliant one, or a terrible one. But at this point, it might be her best chance to save her sanity.

That was reason enough to consider it.

[valkerymillenia]

Hi, I asked about jason’s memory in my last ask in cbds. Thanks for answering. It made me wonder would jason gets flashes about his time with dick and the twins?I really admire your patience in writing your story. This is why i’ll fail as a writer, because i have absolutely no patience. I mean I would probably rush my story and that would make it turn bad.

Ok, so, no. At first Jason has no memory between his death and the Pit. Eventually though some things start to trigger pieces of memories that he doesn't really understand, his full memory takes quite a while to return and by then he's dug himself into too deep a hole.

Also, you sound EXACTLY like me when I started writing.

So I'mma ramble now. Feel free to ignore the boring story time beneath the cut but I promise it has a point, it's just bound to be long because I don't know what brevity is and when I'm sleep deprived I talk to much.

Before I started writing I always wanted to put stories down into words but I never ever considered writing books, I used to make elaborate fantasy worlds, characters and lives in my head that dragged on for weeks on end, slowly becoming more and more complex, it was pure escapism, but I never thought about writing those stories down precisely because I though "I'll never have the patience to develop this, I'll just rush it or quit halfway".

Then when I was in 10th grade there was a writing contest in my school and two of my cousins were teachers there and writers themselves and encouraged me to enter (there were 3 categories actually- teachers, 7th to 9th grade and 10th to 12th grade). I figured, why not?

The story had to be handwritten under a pseudonym with a 5 page limit (no word limit because it was handwritten, you just had to use standard test paper for 5 pages, and yes, this was normal because not everyone had access to a computer to type their work), it was fiction under the theme "stories of our people" and the judges were a panel of teachers and one famous writer (he had a very popular YA adventure series and some great mythology based novels, unfortunately he passed away a few years later).

Now, bear in mind 2 things. This was a school surrounded by forest in the hills of a small rural city but it was the biggest rural city around and all the other towns and villages sent their kids to high school there, the second thing to remember is that high school is mandatory education in my country so dropping out isn't really an option. Therefore we had hundreds of kids in the high school grades (somewhere between 600 and 800 kids, I think, there's less nowadays because the next town over grew immensely and has its own high school now).

You'd think kids wouldn't be interested in a writing competition but the author that was coming to judge was very popular at the time and, well, it was a high school in the middle of the woods in a small countryside town. Things were boring, ok? We didn't have a mall or a movie theater or anything, so when something popped up to break the boredom (or someone even remotely famous showed up) everyone jumped at it.

So a lot of people participated and me? I was just dragging my feet because "I didn't have the patience", I waited until the last two days before the deadline and poured out a story last minute with a shitty penname based on my mythology obsession (Valkery Thot, you can laugh about it nowadays but Thot was the Egyptian good of scribes and I was NERD).

The story was about two kids that never liked each other growing up even though they lived close to each other, they end up crossing paths on the same adventure to a local inaccessible waterfall we have here in the mountain, they were looking for treasure based on stories and maps from each of their grandfathers and find a cave together where they discover etchings left by said grandfathers and, long story short, the treasure was friendship.

(Sappy as hell, I know, but I was thinking the whole YA adventure mindframe, ok? Plus, it wasn't my preferred writing language, which is English, and I was 15 and literally improvised the whole thing last minute, didn't even draft anything, I just wrote it directly and barely proofread for typos.)

So I entered the contest last minute with no real hopes, it was just an experiment but it proceed to be way more entertaining than I though, without the pressure of actually wanting to win it was easier than I thought.

Award day came and we all gathered in this fancy huge auditorium we had, it was the fanciest part of the whole school but it still couldn't fit everyone in there, then again most students that came just wanted an excuse not to go to class that morning. Anyway...

One of my cousins won in the teacher category and I was all proud. I watched the 3 winners of the 7th to 9th grade category being awarded and started getting distracted (because unless I was drawing or stimming I had the attention span of a goldfish). Then the 10th to 12th grade category came and I was so distracted that they had to call me twice before I realized I'd won second place!

First place went to 12th grade boy that wrote a story called "The Message", very purple prose and perfect grammar, lovely story, but I digress.

Anyway, the famous author was the one to give me my prize and told me my story was very vivid, there were some typos but he was impressed by the creativity and the amount of action I packed into 5 pages while still giving it a satisfying ending. I barely grasped what the heck he was saying at the time because I still had this certainty that I bullshitted the whole thing last minute and couldn't even remember half of what I wrote but I asked him if he thought I "could be real writer someday" and he just said I already was a "real writer" because all it took to be a real writer was putting it it words, that and actually enjoying the world I made up.

It stuck with me. I didn't realize right away that that was my dream, that I wanted to be a novelist, I still wanted to be an artist and was stuck under all those expectations to choose a proper college path and career (I thought I could do law, AH! what was I thinking?!) but it really stuck with me and shortly after I started getting really deep into a side of fandom that I hadn't experienced before (because I never had much access to internet before that) and started to want to put my stories into words even if I never finished them, I still didn't think I had the patience or the originally.

A few years later I realized that when it comes to something I'm passionate about I do indeed have the patience, by age 12 I had already been writing long comprehensive character bios, story details, transcribed quotes, meta theories, summaries and collecting tons of info of all my favorite fandoms and not to share, just for fun (and probably OCD) this went on for years before I even found out that the internet had whole websites and encyclopedias for such things (not like today though but yeah), and it had never occurred to me the patience that that in itself required.

My first fics were atrocious! Mostly because I made A LOT of typos due to not being used to writing in English full time but my thoughts came more naturally in English and I didn't enjoy writing fiction in Portuguese anyway (poetry though? Absolutely), I also used extremely exaggerated plot points, be it drama, angst or romance. But people liked the stories for the content and not the accurate spelling so I kept at it. I never used to finish my fics back then, not due to lack of patience but mostly because I put too much pressure on myself to make a story perfect and would stop having fun.

When I started writing purely for fun and passion (and realized that not every story needed to be a novel length epic) that's when I started churning out my best (and ironically longest) stories and getting better and better.

I won't lie, having readers encouraging me was key, it's half of the fuel I need to keep going, outside interest is an incredible motivator, but mostly I just realized that the key to good writing is:

Less pressure + more passion = all the patience you need

This doesn't just apply to original work though, it's also about fanfic.

Holy crap, that was a lot of words just to sum everything up on that one bold sentence... See, I could never have written this much when I was in high school, that's also a matter of practicing until letting your thoughts out into writing becomes second nature but that's a whole other story.

Anyway... Thanks for the lovely message. It's the story of thing that means the world to me ❤️

(and PS- no, I haven't won any other contests since that one but I have published articles on magazines, no published novels yet though because I don't think my original ideas are ever good enough to follow through).

[aelaer]

Whumptober 27: Alt #15 - Field Medicine

Finally filling my Wong space for the @stephenstrangebingo​ (oh hey third bingo). I've not really written from Wong's POV before, either, so this'll be fun. Card at the end.

I sort of have 2000 words of build-up before I actually get to the Whumptober prompt itself, but it is present! I just uh, well, I guess it wanted story first. So that comes first.

Warnings: Uh, by the time we get to the prompt, lots of blood and a mix of magical and mundane healing/emergency field medicine. I don't think it's graphic, but… tell me if it seems on the more graphic side? I'm a horrible judge at such things when it comes to my writing. Oh, also, big alien scarab bugs. Lots of bugs.

27. Alt #15: Field Medicine / Wong

Ever since The Situation With Thanos, Stephen Strange was on retainer with the Avengers to consult on more mystical artifacts and, on rare occasion, to help out with threats. When these threats came, the Master of the New York Sanctum was called in as last-minute backup, wherever they were in the world. His ability to be anywhere in an instant made him perfect for the job.

Wong warned him about getting too embroiled in these mundane affairs. Unfortunately, Stephen had a very stubborn streak of "if I do nothing and people die, that's my fault" embedded within him that the head librarian wasn't able to quash.

When the agreement was first made, not long after the Decimated came back into being, Wong was honestly worried that they would use him as an easy solution for every terrorist group, every new so-called supervillain, and cleanup projects that would eat up all of Stephen's time. And Stephen, guilt-ridden for every life he wasn't able to save, would have done every single one without complaint.

Thankfully the Avengers weren't being complete idiots and calling him in for every so-called emergency. Since the agreement was made, he was called for two scheduled, non-emergency consultations and only one nasty invasion of something that was alien in nature and going to quickly eat everything, living or not, in the city of Houston without immediate intervention. That was fine, and Wong began to relax at the new norm of occasionally crossing paths with these so-called superheroes.

The second time Stephen was called in for an emergency, Wong was with him. They were in the library at Kamar-Taj when, in the quiet of the room, even he could hear the buzzing from a pocket on Stephen's robes.

Stephen shot him an apologetic look and left the library to take the call. When he returned, his expression was grim. "I have to cut this short, Wong. Remember Houston?"

"How could I forget?" He wasn't there, but he saw the footage. Those alien things were… unpleasant. Seemed more inter-dimensional than alien, but they were definitely from their dimension, just very, very foreign to Earth.

"Yeah, they're back, but this time in Mérida, Mexico."

Wong raised his brows. "The Avengers want you to go to Mexico?"

"The Mexican government has already called the Avengers to Mexico, but by the time they get there from New York, Mérida will be half-gone." Stephen was carefully pecking out the name 'Mérida' on Google Image Search on his phone for a reference. "Apparently they've evacuated the area of all civilians. Also, I don't know if Mexico has any enhanced people in that area, so it might just be local law enforcement and whatever people in the army they've managed to get there. Those things are vicious, so I'm going in."

"I'll go with you." Stephen looked at him in surprise, and Wong continued, "As you said, they are vicious. And someone needs to watch your back."

"The Cloak does that," Stephen retorted, but he didn't argue otherwise and, a moment later, created a portal into the heart of Mérida.

Wong had a particular fondness for movies that explored the occult and supernatural in completely inaccurate ways. One of those films was 1999's The Mummy. While its interpretation of ancient Egyptian powers was laughably wrong (oh, if only Hollywood knew), the movie was genuinely funny and enjoyable.

He realized that, as he and Stephen stepped through the portal and he saw the two-foot-long, insectoid alien creatures for the first time in person, that they reminded him very much of the fictional variety of scarabs that featured heavily within the movie. Only instead of just flesh, these things were eating concrete, trees, and… yes, that was definitely a bicycle wheel in that one's mouth. It looked like the area had been evacuated, at least.

At the smell of their fresh blood, however, a good two dozen several yards away abandoned their lifeless meals to charge right at them.

Wong immediately threw a Flames of the Faltine at the first wave of the beasts coming at them. "Please tell me your oath doesn't cover these things," he told Stephen.

"It definitely doesn't cover these things," Stephen affirmed, bringing down the Bolts of Balthakk upon another wave of them. "They lack any sort of ability to reason, and transporting them to another dimension would simply doom that dimension."

That's what he thought. He swiveled about and quickly blew away several with the Winds of Watoomb that were getting entirely too close for comfort.

A loud scream came from a building just down the street, and Wong sighed. "I thought you said they evacuated everyone."

"Clearly not!" Stephen said, his own frustration leaking through his tone. "Can you handle this for a minute?"

Wong only replied, "Yes," and there Stephen went. A minute would definitely be doable.

Two minutes later, Stephen's astral form appeared out of the ether. Wong raised his brows at him.

"So, bad news," said Stephen. "By 'evacuated everyone', it appears they meant 'evacuated everyone that wasn't within half a mile of the hatching spot because we couldn't reach those that didn't immediately run'. They just weren't able to get to some people, and it appears most left behind have barricaded themselves indoors— though who knows how long that will last."

"Not long enough," Wong said.

Stephen nodded. "Cloak's keeping my body up in the air and I'm going to scout through the buildings and get everyone remaining out."

"What about this so-called hatching spot?" he asked as he fried another wave with the Bolts of Balthakk.

"It's like a nest of some sort," he answered. "At least, there was one in Houston. They don't know the exact location here, but it'll be in this general area. Try to see where the bugs are coming from."

"All directions, currently," he retorted, and blasted another row away with the Winds, just to give himself some breathing room (and watch a handful of them splatter against corners, which was useful). "How did you kill the nest?"

Stephen grimaced. "I didn't. There was an enhanced human in Houston who could kill things with touch. I cleared the immediate area and she just touched the inside and rotted everything within it. Useful, if not completely terrifying." He looked over his shoulder. "Gotta go, Wong. Good luck."

"Mmm," he replied in turn, and Stephen disappeared.

Right. Time to find the nest. Flying, while possible, would simply expend too much energy with using magic alone, so walking it was. He called upon the Flames of Faltine again to clear his immediate radius of about ten feet, then set a Shield of the Seraphim about himself and began to walk northward, where quite a few of the alien insectoids seemed to be coming from.

Thankfully, these aliens' ability to eat through anything physical did not extend into the mystical and the shield remained intact as he pushed the aliens bugs off his path. They began to crawl around and then over the shield, attempting to dig through with little success; when they fell off, they'd just get right in the back of the very large crowd of alien bugs following him. Whenever they crowded his view too much, he'd spin in a quick circle to shake them off, then continue walking once more.

By the time Wong found the nest about ten minutes later, he had an impressive collection of ravenous aliens all about his shield. He shook them off again, then approached the nest to get a better look.

It reminded him of a termite mound, the large, bumpy stick of rock and dirt that had burst through the ground and ripped a hole through the street. It probably went rather deep, too; a quick check for life below him confirmed that.

Right. If this was going to work, he was going to have to be creative. He walked around the perimeter of the alien nest, again felt the general distance the amount of life underground went in its depth and width, and considered what spells he might use.

Wong pressed his lips together at a thought. Yes, that might work. It would take everything out of him, but he was certain he could manage it. He looked up at the alien mound and hoisted himself up on one of its lumps; better to be on top of the source for this next feat.

Ignoring the large bugs still scrambling all about his shield and gnawing unsuccessfully at it, he started beginning the movement and internal chanting needed to invoke the Seven Suns of Cinnibus, which would blast his immediate area and "all dark places" connected to the mound's entrance with burning light, ensuring that it would go through every tunnel dug through the city. Midway, he brought in the incantations necessary for the Flames of the Faltine, weaving it within the primary spell to turn the bright light into a searing heat specifically targeting these alien bugs. A bit like blasting the area with a selective microwave, if he had to explain how he cleared out the nest to some Avenger (though honestly, he was more than happy to leave all that to Stephen).

The two spells were woven together and in one swift movement, Wong dropped the shield and slammed his palm into the ground. The searing light combined with the fire-strength heat incinerated the bugs all around him and blast through the tunnels within the earth, moving at a speed faster than rushing water.

Wong held it for about five seconds before he fell to his knees, breathing heavily.

Well, he was completely out of magic. But that should have gotten everything within a mile radius around the nest, alongside every dark crevice within the tunnel system below.

He lowered himself off the mound and grimaced. Now he needed to find Stephen, because there was no way he was going to be drawing any dimensional gateways for a good twenty-four hours. Wong rubbed at the light headache starting to form at his temples, then started walking in the direction he had come from.

About ten minutes later, somewhere near where they had portalled in and near the border of the mile radius his spell managed, Wong discovered, much to his chagrin, that two of the bugs had wandered away a little bit farther than a mile from the nest. And now they were very much interested in having him as food, and he couldn't weave so much as a shield at the moment.

Wong looked around his immediate area and saw an abandoned broom outside of a half-open shop door. He grabbed it, twisted off the broom end and chucked it at one of the approaching alien bugs, then immediately used it to fend them back, giving them sharp hits across their hard shells and swinging the stick to whack them away. He could possibly eventually kill them this way, but in all honesty, he was just biding his time until Stephen came from wherever the hell he was and took care of them in a more efficient manner so they could get back to Kamar-Taj.

Rather annoying, though. There was a reason he rarely used such spells; having nothing left in reserve was hardly an ideal situation. And if Wong was going to be completely honest with himself, the spell had drained him physically as well and he could not keep this up forever.

Unfortunately, it turned out he may have overestimated his remaining physical strength and underestimated how much the spell had drained him. Wong was able to keep them away for about two minutes before misstepping on a piece of uneven, cracked roadway. He quickly corrected himself and moved to block one of the bugs jumping at him, but he just missed and it latched onto his left arm and bit through the sleeve.

Shouting in anger and pain, Wong rushed to the nearest wall and slammed the alien bug into the concrete wall even as he used the stick to keep the other one away from him. The one on his arm finally detached after five hits as its shell cracked and its head was smashed in. Wong went to reposition himself defensively against the remaining bug, but a sudden wave of dizziness hit him and he had to lean against the wall. After whacking away the insectoid again, he spared his arm a glance.

That was a lot of blood. That was too much blood.

He hit the bug again, then grimaced and tried to use the wall behind him to apply pressure. He wasn't sure how long he could keep standing, but he knew it wasn't going to be for long, not with how his head was feeling.

Another hit, and he lowered himself to one knee. Wong could not help but be a bit annoyed; out of all the things to die from, an alien bug bite was really unexpected and unfortunate.

This was very, very unfortunate.

As the alien bug charged at him again and he prepared to whack it back once more, it suddenly burst into flames. Wong fell to his other knee even as Stephen landed just behind the burnt thing.

"Wong, where are you hurt?" Stephen asked as he knelt beside him.

"Arm," he grunted, leaning back against the wall and closing his eyes. "No energy."

Stephen didn't ask any questions as he positioned himself beside his arm. The Cloak was suddenly against him, applying pressure to the bite and he felt his friend place a hand on his head and the feeling of energy course through his body. He knew this spell; he was trying to encourage the heart to slow down a little, to pump flood a little less quickly, and while he did that he was sure Stephen was looking at the damage.

"Brachial artery. No time," he said lowly, though Wong wasn't entirely sure what he meant. He then heard something plop onto the sidewalk and when he opened his eyes, he saw a medical bag, of all things.

Stephen wrenched it open and grabbed a tourniquet. "You've lost too much blood already," he said even as he wrapped it over his left arm to secure it, before he began twisting. "Mundane will work better, now."

Wong had no idea. Wong wasn't a doctor, so he was more than happy to allow the other sorcerer to take over here. But… "Where'd the bag…?" he asked, and found himself vaguely annoyed as the rest of his words slurred away. This was incredibly annoying.

"Personal pocket dimension," Stephen answered. "Less magic than a portal, which still confounds me."

"Space," he said.

"No, I know the theory and the theory makes sense, but at the same time it still doesn't make sense." He finished applying the tourniquet and pressed his lips together. "The Cloak's completely wrapped around your arm and I don't want to remove it. I'm going to levitate you into the healing wing and see you situated, then take care of anything remaining here."

Wong usually would rather not be levitated, but at the moment he was too tired to be bothered about the circumstances. He closed his eyes and felt himself being carefully lifted off the ground and positioned to recline more, and then the atmosphere completely changed to the smells and sounds that he well knew around Kamar-Taj.

Knowing he didn't need to keep his guard up any further, Wong let himself drift off.

((See, I am actually capable of beating up characters that aren’t Stephen.))

[sowhotalksfirst]

Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker Spoilers below.

Okay, now that the spoiler warning is out of the way...

No one cares, but I want to get some feelings about this movie off my chest since no one I know has seen it yet, so I have no one to rant to. 

So beside the spoiler warning: I did not love it warning, so if you did, you might not want to continue. 

So there was obviously a lot of issues with characterization and Disney/white men being their usual, racist, homophobic, sexist selves. Which honestly led to a lot of the bad plot decisions (like trying to shoehorn in other girls for Finn and Poe to try and erase FinnPoe and FinRey at the same time). And honestly, the plot was so bad. Like, it was boring, predictable, and just not goo writing. 

Some of this stems from the beginning of this trilogy (I liked a lot of Force Awakens, but it set up the same plot structure as the originals (and also completely fucked up Han and Leia’s characters, but that’s another rant)), and some stems from the cluster fuck that was the second one. But even with the restraints they created for themselves, they could have done so much differently and be more original with things. 

Instead of Palpatine coming back with no real explanation whatsoever (and completely nullifying the point of the original trilogy), and Rey somehow being his granddaughter (like who thought that in any way made sense?), and the whole mythos of the Sith getting fucked up (There’s always two, no more, no less (I know the prequels don’t count for much, but still)), what if it had been Plagueis? 

Like, Palpatine admitted to Anakin that he didn’t learn the power to cheat death from his master before he killed him, but that together they could figure it out. So while having Palpatine come back is dumb, disrespectful, stupid, etc, what if it was Plagueis? He let Palpatine “kill” him, and then sat back and waited, and done whatever. There’s definitely some real interesting potential there. 

Rey should 100% have stayed a “nobody”. Her being a Palpatine make ZERO sense (cause yeah, the emperor has a son, but that’s not important at all at any moment). Like, honestly, it builds in her found family so much more when it’s actually that her parents just sold her for the money and forgot about her. I know people love to try and do the whole “there was actually a reason for X’s parents to leave them permanently traumatized” or whatever, but it made no sense, and it would have made her choosing the light, choosing her found family, so much more meaningful. 

Also, maybe don’t just say fuck-all to the rules of the universe just to make things fit your plot? I know a lot of this was the last jedi’s fault, but jj took it even further, like the whole physical items magically force teleporting places and the whole dumb healing thing. Just, ugh. 

I don’t even want to get into fucking Kylo Ren. I’ll just say that the Knight of Ren ended up looking exactly like the group an angsty, fascist, evil teen with anger problems would create. Even if they were literally pointless.

Finn. My poor, poor Finn. There was SOOOOO much potential they lost because their racist, homophobic asses could let FinnRey or FinnPoe happen. Like they spent so much effort in this movie trying to justify Reylo, while completely ignoring everyone else.

The group of stormtroopers that defected just cause *Force*? Why the hell wouldn’t you make it that be because of the stories of FN2187, the stormtrooper who got out? Why is the downfall of the First Order in the fact that they thought kidnapping and brainwashing children would work to create an obedient army, but in fact it just makes them all want to leave, but just think it’s impossible. And Finn is the one who starts to inspire them all. Of course no one in the resistance knows about it until they meet the group, because the First Order would be desperately trying to keep it under wraps, but the word still spreads: If FN2187 got out, so can we.

Can you imagine Finn facing a whole battalion of stormtroopers (and/Or finding someone to hack into all the first order ships so he’s broadcasting to everyone), and giving and Independence Day type speech, and watching them take off their helmet one by one, and turning on the first order? How incredible and powerful would that have been! The first order should have been brought down by the stormtroopers. 

And also my poor, poor, Poe. Instead of trying to force in a weird smuggler backstory with whatsherface to try and prove “See, he’s straight AND a womaizer!”, Which did not land at all, and was just super awkward, why not, you know, develop his character? Not just have him there to be comic relief? 

UUUUUGGGGGHHHHH! 

I feel like JJ and co just took the most boring, predictable, and bad route to finish off the trilogy, and it showed. I mean this trilogy had flaws from the beginning (again, tfa wasn’t horrible, but it was a rehashed plot, they didn’t really put a ton of thought into it. how did the First Order take over so fast? Why is it still a “resistance” instead of the new republic vs the first order? Why is Kylo Ren the worst fucking character ever?), but then craig just dug a fucking hole, and instead of trying to fill it back in a little, JJ just kept digging. 

Also it’s really annoying and gross to me that the only thing in the general rise of skywalker tag is like all reylo. Like, you have to search Anti Rise of skywalker to get anything not about fucking abusive gross reylo.

[saiangelo999]

2019 T.V. show Tracker part 2

Part 1

Animes

Aggretsuko

I am really enjoying this! Finished s1 and am on s2. I really enjoyed the show! I liked all the friendships that Retsuko develops throughout the season and how her relationship with her coworkers evolve. A really pleasant workplace anime.

Mob Psycho 100

Originally planned to read it before watching the anime but... will probably binge it. 2020 Update - So I did end up reading 3 volumes before watching the anime. And then I just binged it. My thoughts are here.

Dramas

He is Psychometric

DNF - I really was intrigued by the premise initially as it was quite unique. I also did really enjoy the main cast and was especially interested in the brother’s backstory. However, there was just a point in the drama where all the intrigue that they built up just stopped to interest me. It definitely had to do with the tonal switch to more romantic between the main two characters. Maybe I’ll come back to it... But I am wary as a I heard that the ending was not well received.

The Last Empress

It’s a HOT Mess. Would I recommend the show? No. 

Did I enjoy it? Yes, most of it. There was a point where I knew the plot had no meaning as it was so badly cast into the back-burner by the writers that I began to enjoy the show on how utterly ridiculous it was. Kind of like how people enjoy bad movies like The Room. Don’t watch it if you expect a good plot, consistent characterizations (or even a coherent plot).

So here’s the thing, the show had potential. It started out super dark and focused on politics, manipulation and featured the emperor who is a sociopath. The show had decent-ish pacing and it seemed promising as it was initially like watching a political thriller show. But after a few episodes, the core aspect of the show began to shift as it focused more and more on the main female character (The Empress) and as her part in the story became more prominent. It became very inconsistent (plot-wise and character-wise), became more of a rom-com and really undermined the tone set by the first part of the show. Lots of interesting characters were unceremoniously shoved into arbitrary boxes, character motivations went to shit. Whenever I thought the show couldn’t get any worse - it did. But, as I gave up on the actual plot, I just found it all to be very funny. I laughed at how the writers dug themselves into a deeper and deeper hole with the characterizations of what was once interesting characters... it felt like they fired the only writer that gave a fuck and replaced them with a bad fanfiction writer. Especially when they decided to create a sort of love triangle out of NOWHERE. Warning: even I couldn’t enjoy the cop-out ending episodes (last 4 or so) that they gave to this show.

It’s absolutely no wonder why I haven’t heard about this show before.

Stay Tuned! aka Channel wa sono mama!

A Japanese mini-series based on a manga about a news station (HHTV) with how the news crew comedically deal with their new idiot hire. It was a really fun watch! Definitely recommend for people who want to watch something light! Loved it! :D

Such a good show! I already miss it!

Kingdom

It’s definitely interesting. A very bingeable show as each episode ends on a cliff-hanger. Man, Bae Doona is doing well after Sense8. Also I can’t believe the prince was the same actor as the prince from Goong/Princess Hours. 

Avengers Social Club

DNF - Will hopefully finish it off. 

I love the main female leads. They are each so adorable and I love their friendship with one another. Hee Soo and the step-son have a cute friendship which is lovely to see. I like that all the relationships are developing slowly. From the first episode this drama definitely had a different vibe than the typical kdrama as it was way more toned down in the melodrama aspect (in comparison) which was nice. I also like that the characters are far more grey and complex, and the writing team seems to be doing a great job so far. Excited to keep watching!

Psychopath Diary

I am enjoying it so far. I LOVED episode four, and I am looking forward to it.  Yoon Shi Yoon is so adorable even when brainstorming his little murder plots. Hope that the show moves forward in a direction that keeps me interested. Fingers crossed.

Episode 14 though. Gave me high hopes for how they wrap the show up. Definitely the drama I enjoyed the most in 2019!

Update: So I finished the show! I really enjoyed the show overall and it was definitely one of the kdramas I was more invested in 2019. I really enjoyed the show overall, I did think that that being said I was not completely blind to the faults. But, I think that the strong writing (for the most part), the characters and their respective actors were more than enough to make the drama enjoyable even if it did have a couple of plot-holes or things that didn’t make sense in it. I am really glad there was no huge emphasis on a romantic aspect between Bokyung and Dongshik given the pacing and the way the story was unfolding. I am slightly disappointed with Bokyung’s role in the end of epi15/beginning of epi 16 because I did hope that she would be given a more integral part but... alas it is a kdrama afterall. I do think that it was great her role had a lot to offer and personally I thought she could have carried the show a bit more if she was given the chance.

TV Shows

The Good Doctor s3

Trying to keep up with it as it airs. 

Schitts Creek s2 & s3

Great casual viewing. So funny and love all the characters. I love John’s acceptance of Schitts Creek and Roland and Jocelyn during the anniversary dinner episode. So adorable! Also, I really love Ted the vet.

The Witcher

Started it in 2019 and finished it in 2020. Really enjoyed it. It was totally disorienting and confusing because I came in expecting a linear timeline, but I got used to the format quickly. The cinematography is just gorgeous. Not sure how to feel about it but I guess its cool that all the characters are pretty morally grey (Yennifer, Geralt etc.). I’m looking forward to more. 

[adamwatchesmovies]

The Worst of 2019 (So Far)

And now we get to the opposite of yesterday’s post: the worst of what we’ve seen so far. Time to give them a proper thrashing before they (hopefully) fade into obscurity. Disappointingly, there's a general lack of films that were bad but in an interesting way. Mostly, it’s either been the same sorta dreck we usually get with a couple of unusually offensive stories and a couple of soul-crushingly bad superhero flicks. Curious? Read on.

10. Serenity

I like to save my #10 spot on the “Worst of” list for a movie that has a chance of becoming a favorite among those who love bad movies. Serenity is competently enough made that it does not belong in the same category as The Identical or Runaway. It’s another kind of bad movie, the kind that baffles anyone who sees it and who will have film historians scratching their heads in the future. It’s not quite on the same level as 2017’s “The Book of Henry” but close. Top-notch actors at the top of their career in a story so poorly conceived it would’ve been brilliant if it weren’t awful and utterly absurd.

The revelation that everything we've been seeing is actually part of a video game programmed by an angry teen who hates his abusive father, and that his actions are tied to those of Matthew McConaughey's character is the kind of nutty decision someone at some point should've questioned. My advice? Surprise some unsuspecting friends with it. Periodically pause the movie so they can write down how they think it'll all fit together and then watch their faces as they're proved wrong.

9. After

I’m not going to remember After down the line so this is my opportunity to give it another flogging. I can’t believe fan-fictions of real people is a real thing and that one of them was deemed legitimate and popular enough to be turned into a movie. It plays out like the clone of a clone of a clone of Twilight. At least that movie had danger in the form of vampires and werewolves. This has nothing to offer except embarrassing drama and a prepubescent’s idea of what romance and love look like. I saw it in the theater with a friend and thank goodness she was there; it made what would've been a chore... slightly more bearable.

8. Dumbo

I’ve already gone on about how I feel about Disney’s string of live-action remakes. For the most part, they fail to validate their own existences; they’re just copies of the original but with “real” actors dancing around animated backgrounds, objects and locations instead of everything being traditionally animated. Dumbo isn’t like Aladdin and Beauty and the Beast. It does try new things. It diverges from the source material significantly in the worst way. The titular character winds up playing second banana to a bunch of circus performers no one cares about and in the end didn’t contain an inkling of the emotion the 1941 version did.

7. Dark Phoenix

This one’s a triple-whammy. Not only was it a deeply disappointing way for Fox’s X-Men series to end, it retreaded old material in a way that was worse than X-Men 3: The Last Stand AND it was a box office bomb. By the time the story finally comes alive… it’s just about over. The whole thing feels like a mistake, bringing in aliens and asking us to invest in characters we just haven’t had enough time to fall in love with. Makes me wonder what the future of the characters is going to be like. Yes there are a number of heroes and heroines we haven’t yet seen, but are people going to care, even when the brand gets a new coat of paint from Marvel Studios?

6. Men in Black: International

Was anyone asking for the Men in Black series to return? Maybe if they'd had a dynamite story this could’ve overcome the public’s general disinterest, but this was an extremely generic plot you could figure out easily minutes in and lost touch with what endeared us to the first. Even with the combined forces of Tessa Thompson and Chris Hemsworth failed, it to generate many laughs. Worse, to make sure I got any references or Easter egg it might drop, I re-watched all of the previous Men in Black movies, including the horrific Men in Black 2.

5. Replicas

This movie goes about itself in such a convoluted way. First, Keanu Reeves plays a scientist working for a company that wants to transplant the mind of dead soldiers into androids. Then, his family is killed in a car crash, prompting him to use the mind transfer tech to put their memories into new clone bodies of themselves. Problem is, he only has the means to clone three out of four family members. This means he has to erase all memories of his youngest daughter from the others’ brains. Following me so far? Good because it keeps going from there. Actually, that’s just the start of it. It’s a classic case of TMSGO - too much sh*t goin’ on. Even with all that, it STILLL managed to have gaping plot holes. No surprise it came and went as quietly as possible.

4. Hellboy

This one hurt. I wanted to see a superhero horror film badly. The early interviews I read about them wanting to adapt Mike Mignola’s books more closely than the Del Toro films got me excited. I was a little apprehensive when the trailers showed some goofy stuff but I figured these were included to draw people in. I should've listened to that sinking feeling. The actual film is awful, one giant mistake after another. Without a doubt, this featured the year’s worst special effects and even this I could've forgiven but the would-be humorous tone was badly misjudged and the story bloated with way too many elements that might've worked... if we weren't also trying to tell the character's origin at the same time. Hellboy ends with a teaser promising more and there’s no way we would’ve seen a sequel even if this had made money at the box office. Cool demons though, for what it’s worth.

3. Shaft

Looking back, I’m struggling to think of anything worth seeing in Shaft. I hated the film’s approach at comedy, particularly when it reverted Samuel L. Jackson’s John Shaft into the kind of man who proudly doesn’t understand modern sensibilities and spews out one homophobic joke after another. The plot was uninspired and uninteresting - not to mention generic - and none of it felt like it belonged on the big screen. On the upside, it prompted me to view the original trilogy with Richard Roundtree and those were enjoyable.

2. Simmba

Simmba is unlikely to be on the “Worst of 2019” list next January. It probably won’t be at the #2 spot. The film mixes two wildly different tones but not well. It begins as a romantic crime comedy, a dated one, sure. Simmba staging a phoney crime in order for the woman he’s attracted to to call him for help and then use the call as an excuse to stay with her through the night is creepy but I guess it might’ve passed like 20 years ago in North America. What makes this a bad film is the way it then introduces a character’s gang rape and murder as a way to prompt the anti-hero onto a righteous path. From there, it turns into this vigilante revenge film that has disturbing implications. You probably haven’t heard of it before now, much less seen it. I don’t recommend you check it out.

Runner Ups:

Aladdin

A controversial choice, as many casual filmgoers seem to have fallen madly in love with it (similar to the way they ate up 2017’s Beauty and the Beast) but honestly, what does this film do better than 1992’s Aladdin? Add an unmemorable song for Princess Jasmine to sing? Reduce the number of talking animals in order to give us more… nothing? Pile on the CGI to the point you wonder why it was made with live-actors in the first place? Like the innumerable direct-to-video sequels of classic films who've been all but forgotten, I tell you this Arabbian adventure won't endure.

Tolkien

So much potential squandered on a boring story. It didn’t take an astute viewer to recognize the film was crippled by the studio failing to obtain the rights to Tolkien’s actual work. I get the feeling we'll see another shot at a biography of J.R.R. Tolkien in a couple of years and this will be the Christopher Robin to the much superior Goodbye Christopher Robin.

The Hustle

It’s an unfunny comedy, what more is there to say? Rebel Wilson makes yet another bad career choice playing the same character she always plays. I only realized it was a remake of Dirty Rotten Scoundrels while writing my review, which is unfortunate. Hopefully I can expunge this film from my memory soon enough and forget anything it might’ve spoiled about the original Bedtime Story or the 1988 remake.

1. Unplanned

The numerous instances of technical incompetence - mostly coming from the performers who are given lackluster material - would be enough to condemn Unplanned to this list. What made me hate the film is the way it blatantly lies and attempts to manipulate the audience into further entrenching themselves in a certain point of view through cheap, manipulative means. I can respect that genuine passion was poured into the project but the way it goes about it is shameful. Do not go see it, even if you're curious.

Yuck. That last one really left a bad taste in my mouth so I'm going to talk about a movie I did enjoy and am enthusiastic to direct you towards Alita: Battle Angel. Rosa Salazar as the titular Alita impressed me and I really dug the action scenes. I'll also right a wrong from last year by reminding you to find and watch Paddington and Paddington 2, both movies I should've put on my "Best of" lists the years they came out. I don't know what I was thinking but I keep coming back to these in my head. They're excellent for kids and adults.

And with that said, the list is over. Back to our regularly-scheduled film reviews until something big comes up. Thoughts or comments on the list are welcome and I hope you enjoyed reading.

[botchbatch]

It’s Kind of a Funny Story Movie Review: SPOILERS!!

     It's Kind of Funny Story had its ups and downs. Although it is reviewed as a better book than movie, in hindsight, the movie had its moments. There were times that were absolutely ridiculous and odd, but that was the spirit of it. Based off of the novel by Ned Vizzini, the film takes place in modern times for youth suffering from these kinds of problems.

     In the film we follow Craig Gilner as he bikes home, the opening scene jumps straight into it as we watch our main protagonist about to jump off of a bridge to his death. After that fleeting idea, he decides to put himself into a mental hospital because of the main reason of, “I want to kill myself.” For the next week, he finds himself sandwiched between odd people with their own problems and issues, realizing that being normal and perfect isn’t as ideal as it should be.

     Craig is, as we assumed, awkward. Whether it’s the comedy of the film or his natural state, Craig manages to make the audience cringe at his way of conversing with people, just for the sole factor that we too, have been in these awkward situations, saying the wrong things. He has a crush on his best friend’s girlfriend, tries to impress his family but fails horribly, and is the kind of guy to stand on the side during parties. Despite this he finds his own ways to connect with others, with art or music-- a skill that Noelle, his new friend at the hospital, helps him rediscover. Going through his depression, he learns a few things about friendship while staying at the mental hospital, which starts to feel like a home.

     The film touches a lot of rough topics. Depression, self-harm, insecurities and being at rock bottom. There is always a fair amount of criticism for people going through a rough patch, as people don’t really humanize them and sympathize with their problems. An example of this would be the character Bobby, who helps Craig throughout his stay at the hospital, and Craig finds himself confiding in the older man. Bobby ended up in the hospital for drug abuse, his relationship with his wife is rocky, and he doesn’t get to see his daughter as much as he wants to. He’s someone who is at a low part of his life, but is trying to make things better. Usually, people who are stable and well-off don’t really empathize enough with people like him, saying they put it upon themselves. With Bobby, you will find yourself feeling his pain, and understanding his motives. Although he sits at rock bottom, he is still trying to make things better. Whether that is by trying to find a job and apartment, or simply through living his best life. It goes to show how people who have flaws and mental illnesses aren’t lost causes or basket cases.  

      Many people may critique the film for its ridiculous way of portraying scenes, (i.e The cast in their rendition of Under Pressure by Queen) but in fact, the weird humor is almost fitting. In such an odd setting, moments like those had lifted the movie to feel more light despite its dark underlying tones. Mental illness shouldn’t always be dramatized. An important line during the movie is when Craig talks about why he is suicidal, “Sometimes I wish I had an easy answer for why I’m depressed. That my father beat me, or I was sexually abused. But, my problems are less... dramatic than that.” Craig is the result of a burnout kid trying to live but having trouble enjoying it. He sees the worst in things and feels the pressure of applying for a smart university, cracking under the pressure of expectations set by his parents and himself. He didn’t need a clear reason to be depressed, and told the story how it was. In a way, he gained all of my respect for simply facing what was in front of him and calling it out with the intent to change.

     The most inspiring moment is Craig’s monologue at the end of the film, explaining how resilient he had become.“I can tell this is just the beginning. I still need to face my homework, my school, my friends. My dad. But the difference between today and last Saturday is that for the first time in a while, I can look forward to the things I want to do in my life.” You can tell he’s found a path to get to his motive for living. Although he isn’t entirely healed-- as expected, he is clearly trying make the most out of things. Nobody gets better in the span of a week, but for Craig, he is clearly picking himself out of the hole he had dug. He found his reasons to hold on and decided he was going to do something about it. In a way, the ending was beautiful. Critics will say it is far too picture perfect, but they didn’t see it in a different light. Things aren’t happily ever after. Craig is still a burnout, but he decided to channel that negative energy into something positive, and drive out the thoughts. Noelle, his girlfriend that he had met in the hospital didn’t miraculously recover. She was an abuse victim and all, it’s not something you can get over overnight. But in the book and movie she does grow more resilient like Craig, and one could say they helped each other out.

      In the end, It’s Kind of a Funny Story, really does end up being, a funny story to look back on. Craig wanted to die, but in the span of a week, he found love, friendship and a better sense of self. This helped him feel like he should deserve to give life a chance. He forgot why he even wanted to die in the first place and instead got so caught up in wanting to find ways to live that it didn’t even matter anymore. The little things meant so much to him suddenly, and all he wanted to do was live, not survive.

[izzy-b-hands]

Murder House, Part One

This is my @mtl-trick-or-treat for @enydart! I hope you like it; I had a lot of fun writing it! I also started something for your Treat prompt, so if you like this and want that one as well, just let me know and I will finish it and post it asap!

This was for the Trick prompt, asking for ‘something gross with Murderface.’ I went to something that most people find gross (though maybe not the Dethklok boys, since they see so much of it lol)-murder. But I had to give Murderface some fun and happiness too since he gets shit on so damn often, so hopefully this is gross enough!

Fic under the cut because this got long; RIP and my apologies to mobile users if the cut isn’t working on the app. I was actually going to try and fit the whole thing in one post, but found out there is a post length limit (who knew!) so I have split this into Part One and Two! I will post Part Two by the end of tomorrow at the latest (it just needs a few final touches!)

The ads for the haunted house played constantly from October 15th on . Radio, TV, even billboards plastered all over. He did his best to ignore them, even though he wanted to take a flamethrower to any billboard or screen that had the ad on it for even a second. 

The rest of the band, however, was harder to ignore. By the fifth night of the ads playing during their favorite evening TV shows, he was ready to snap listening to them comment. 

“Look at thats; you ams the most famous of us now,” Skwisgaar snickered as the ad played. 

Lights flashed and flickered on the big screen as it showed the haunted house actors depicting the murder-suicide that had sent him to his grandparents. There was even a chubby baby actor sat in the middle of the gore-’Baby Murderface looks on in horror!’ exclaimed the ad’s dramatic narrator. 

“Ams thats legal?” Toki asked, pointing at the screen. “To use your lifes like thats and makes a haunted house so...sads?” 

“Amn’ts even haunted really,” Skwisgaar replied. “Just sads. A sads house. What ams scary about thats?”

Pickles shrugged. “Well, someone sold their rights to their life story years ago. That’s scary, if you ask me. Cuz then they can do shit like this, and you’re shit outta luck to stop them. Ain’t that right, Murderface?” 

He wanted to just rage. To tell them to shut the fuck up, or he’d set fire to the living room just like he wanted to set fire to the haunted house and anyone who was involved with it. But he’d been upset constantly, since the ads had started. It felt strange, but he was almost tired of being upset and yelling about it. He just wanted to do something to get rid of it. 

“Whatever, juscht schut up about it. They were schupposed to make a cool movie out of my life,” Murderface sighed. 

Nathan chuckled. “You uh, you really thought they were gonna do that? Buying the rights to your life story; that was gonna make a really cool movie?” 

“Yeah, why the fuck not? People make movies about all kindsch of dumb schit; you can make a movie about anything basically!” Murderface spat back.

“Okay, Murderface, look--thing is, they gotta have a cool fun story, to make a cool movie. A movie about your life...that’d be pretty sad, dude,” Pickles said. “I mean, who the fuck would wanna watch that?” 

“Well, once he joins us, I mean...that’d be a cool movie,” Nathan said. 

“Yeah, but then that’s just a Dethklok movie,” Pickles replied. “And that ain’t what he wants; he wants a Murderface-only movie. But nobody’s gonna go see that, or if they did they’d like...I don’t know, cry themselves to death or something.” 

Murderface bit his tongue. They were in a rhythm now, going back and forth to talk shit about him. It was easier to try to stay quiet and ride it out. 

“Yeah, probably. Can you see it? ‘Saddest movie ever, millions cry themselves to death and stab out their own eyes’,” Nathan said. “Huh. Actually, that would be brutal as fuck. Murderface, you should call them--tell them to nix this haunted house bullshit and make the movie instead.” 

There were tears at the corner of his eyes, even though he didn’t want them there. He tried to look only at the TV, hoping no one would notice them. 

“Oh geez, look yous mades him cry now,” Skwisgaar tutted. “You eggs him on like this, when he ams already a big crysbaby, makes it worse. Ams you just a big baby Murderface? No, so knocks it off.” 

“He likes attention, that’s all he wants,” Pickles started. 

“Yeah, I says thats, like a big baby,” Skwisgaar interrupted. “Needings all this attentions.” 

 “Oh fuck you! You’ve got moviesch and booksch written about you!” Murderface protested. If anyone could talk about being an attention-needy baby, it was Skwisgaar. 

“Yeah, but I has to have them all takens down. Dids not authorize anys of thems, so they amnt’s accurate. I don’ts want them, but people makes them anyway.” Skwisgaar replied testily. “And does yous mean Toki’s book? Because that ams nots something I wanted either.” 

“Oh fuck yous, Skwisgaar,” Toki scoffed. “Yous ams just as bad. What theys calls an ‘attention whores’.” 

“Oh, and what ams yous, Mr. Gives-me-a-solo-rights-now-or-I-cries?” Skwisgaar shouted. 

It devolved from there, and he tuned it out. They’d forgotten to keep making fun of him, at least. But there was no watching the show with that much yelling over it; the cue to head in for the night. 

His boots thudded against the stone floors, and then against the wall of his room as he kicked them off and tossed them into a corner. 

“Schtupid executive asscholes. Schtupid Halloween. My life ischn’t scary, or schad, or anything--it’sch mine. How’d they like it if schomeone did that to them?” he grabbed an ancient dagger from its spot hanging on the wall and slashed in front of him. “Or better yet--Michael or Freddy or schomething could come and cut them down. Just schome creepy freak coming after them.”

He let the dagger clatter to the floor. “They’d never schee it coming...” 

And there it was. The perfect revenge, to make sure they’d never take anyone else’s life and turn it into some stupid attraction. To show them he wouldn’t take this lying down. 

Or that someone wouldn’t, at least. 

After all, Charles did have a few limits legally. He got them out of a lot of shit, but some of it was going to simply come down to being careful. There wasn’t too much work to do anyway--the website for the haunted house listed two main executives from the studio he’d sold his rights to, a team lead for the attraction itself, and if he could take out a few actors in the house too, well that was just icing on the cake at that point. 

It wasn’t a lot of murders for Charles to have to make disappear, but it was enough work if it was Murderface, famous bassist committing them. 

But a faceless, nameless boogeyman could get the job done. 

The outfit was easy to draw up, his ideas flowing like water. A little bit Michael with the black protective jumpsuit, and a touch of Freddy with the knives, all hidden in specially designed pockets so it wouldn’t look super bulky. The mask was fitting of any horror movie monster--blank and emotionless, unknowable.

Really, the mask was his masterpiece. Made of a flexible material so as to still be comfortable, with specialty coatings on the front to make it difficult for any victim to stab or shoot through it. It wouldn’t stop everything, but it would help keep him from getting outright killed. Not that he planned on giving them much of chance for that. Last, it would be painted a dark shade of blue, almost black, the color he figured would make it easiest to blend into any shadows. Only holes for the eyes and a few hidden ones near the nose--anything more felt too risky, too much of a chance to potentially be recognized. 

The bonus of being this rich was that no one would ask questions when he ordered weird shit. Hell, he commissioned random costumes for Planet Piss all the time. Charles would make sure the orders got processed as quickly as possible, and then his work could begin.

It was almost therapeutic, all of the planning and designing. It made falling asleep easier and quicker than it had been in weeks, and for the first time in awhile, he slept with a smile on his face.

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

The three days that followed were all tense excitement. Excitement for waiting for the outfit to get there, excitement to get started. With the main businessmen taken out of the equation, it would be easy to get Charles to start the legal side of things--to file lawsuits for everything from defamation to claiming he never sold his rights at all. And then the thing would be shuttered for good. 

The suit arrived first. Thick material, meant for an industrial setting, slow to stain or tear. And it fit like a glove. 

“I’ll corner thosche asscholes in their penthousches, and paint the wallsch with their gutsch!” he crowed as he finished buttoning it. It was a bit weird not wearing his shorts, but some sacrifice would be required to pull this all off. 

Now he could only hope the guys wouldn’t question the deliveries he was getting. They almost always did--for anyone. Pure morbid curiosity, or hoping it was something fun to be shared. 

So of course, they asked. 

“Uh, you quitting on us or something?” Pickles asked on the morning of the fourth day after the Plan had started, as they all dug into their breakfasts. “Going into construction?” 

“Of coursche not,” Murderface replied. “How’d you find out what it was anyway?” 

Pickles shrugged. “I smoke up with one of the gals in the mail room. She lets me look at all the mail that comes through here. Kinda fun.” 

“What the fuck, how long has she let you do that?” Nathan asked, his fork still halfway to his mouth as he stared perturbed at Pickles. 

Pickles shrugged again. “Couple years now. Why, you ordering nasty sex toys or something you don’t want me to see?” 

Nathan flushed pink, and glared down into his pancakes. “Don’t be an asshole. Just don’t want you going through all my shit.” 

“Yeah, you’re ordering nasty shit. I’m gonna watch out for your stuff more now,” Pickles grinned. 

“Juscht fire her,” Murderface said, grateful the topic was drifting away from his mail. “Then he can’t get in there anymore.” 

“Nah, he won’t,” Pickles replied. “You guys all know her--the one with those green eyes.” 

“Damn it,” Nathan huffed. “She’s nice. Always leaves a little note on my mail when she brings it to my room with a smiley face. I can’t fire her.” 

“Told ya,” Pickles smirked. “So, ya going to your shitty haunted house or something? Making a spooky costume, Scaryface?” 

“Yeah, might use it for Halloween” Murderface snorted. “But, itsch really for Planet Pissch. Got a...concept album idea going.” 

“Ams it piss?” Toki asked. 

Skwisgaar rolled his eyes as he sipped his coffee. “Whats does you think, Toki. What’s else woulds it be?” 

“Wes should does a groups costume this year,” Toki said. “Then wes can all goes to sees the sads Murderface house!” 

“I woulds be ups for thats,” Skwisgaar replied. “Gots to be somethings cool though, Toki.” 

“No, no, what the fuck, no,” Pickles protested. “Thought you Swedes were antisocial, why the hell do you wanna do a group costume?” 

Skwisgaar glared. “Because I ams Swedish, I can’ts have friends? Wes can’ts have funs with a groups costume? Ams I meant to hates fun?” 

“I just figured you wouldn’t think it was cool,” Pickles replied. “Don’t gotta be a douche bag about it.” 

“Oh fines then, I goes as the personifications of nihilism,” Skwisgaar scoffed. “Ams that an acceptable costume for mes, Pickle?” 

Murderface ate in silence as the argument grew over the group costume idea. He’d get used to even more arguments if it meant they’d forget to ask him about what he was doing. 

Still, Pickles potentially seeing his mail made him worry. When the mask showed up later that day, he made sure the mail team knew to bring it straight to his room. 

But it was Charles who knocked on his door and had the package in hand. 

“Look it over, if you want changes made we’ll send it back right away,” he said, watching as Murderface tried to open the package without letting him see too much of it. 

“Serial killer...that’s a fun costume,” Charles continued as Murderface turned away to examine the mask.

“How would you know?” Murderface asked as he felt Charles sit on the end of the bed. “Can’t see you getting dressed up for Halloween much.” 

Charles only shrugged. “So...will it work?” 

Murderface turned and stared. Did he somehow know? How the fuck could he know? 

“For your costume?” Charles asked, an eyebrow raised. 

“Oh, yeah. Perfect,” Murderface replied, relieved. And it was, exactly the way he wanted it. 

“Good,” Charles said, a small smile on his face. “Have fun putting it together. I’m sure you’ll look great.” 

After Charles had left, he pulled everything on and stood in front of the mirror near his closet. The whole picture--suit, mask, boots, a pair of black leather gloves--looked good. 

Except...

His hair ruined it. Everybody knew his hair, the fucking curly triangle. He had to hide it.

A thick winter beanie didn’t help, and the mask fit funny then. Any other hats would likely be the same result. 

“You gotta go,” he told the reflection of his curls. “We’re ugly asch schit anyway, being bald ain’t gonna make a difference.” 

He called for a klokateer from the hairdressing department, and changed back into his regular clothes while he waited for them. 

The klokateer had to have run, she was so out of breath. “Sir, you needed someone immediately. How may I assist you?” 

He pointed to his hair. “Get rid of it.” 

Her eyes were only barely visible with her hood on, but he could see them go wide. “Uhm...maybe we could just try a different style? Going straight to bald is a big change, sir.” 

“I. Want. It. Gone,” he replied. She’d run to Charles in a minute, he was sure of it. 

“Uh, we’ll need the clippers, not these,” she said, holding up a pair of shears. “Just let me go get those.” 

He sat on his bed and waited for the phone to ring. She’d have run to Charles, begging for help as to what to do without being seen as being disobedient. A moment later, his Dethphone rang loudly. 

“Murderface, I’ve got a very scared and confused young woman in here saying you want to chop off all your hair. Is this true?” Charles asked. 

“Yeah,” Murderface replied. “Why’sch that a big deal?” 

“Well, it is a very sudden image change. We’ll have to do all new publicity photos, promotions. And it is a bit random--why do you want to do this?” Charles asked. 

“Want a change, that’sch all,” Murderface sighed. “Can’t a guy want to change schit up?” 

Charles sighed. “Of course. I’ll send another hairdresser to you. This one’s a bit too shaky to do the job now.” 

Murderface tapped the ‘end call’ button, and flopped back against his pillows. The guys would hate having to take new pictures, but they’d get over it. Besides, maybe they’d have to make a sacrifice or two to help his revenge as well. 

It was a male klokateer this time, silent as he sat down a chair and propped a broom and dust pan near the door. He was silent all the way through the cut as well, but that was just fine. 

When the klokateer had cleaned the floor of his curls and left, Murderface put the outfit back on. 

It made a world of difference. Now, he looked like a proper faceless killer. 

Now, all he had to do was start killing. 

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

The next morning, he was glowing. There was no other way to put it. He was excited beyond belief to get started. Granted, he still needed to do a bit of research to figure out where each victim would be. But there were multiple social media accounts for each person, so it would be easy enough. 

The biggest worry right now was the reaction to his hair, or the lack of it. The guys did not disappoint as he joined them at the breakfast table. 

“What in the fuck dids yous do?” Skwisgaar asked, dropping his fork. “And why?” 

“I wanted to,” Murderface replied. “Felt like something different. Not bad, right?” 

“Ugggghhh,” Nathan whined. “We’re gonna have to do new promos now. I hate promo photos.” 

“Yeah, but they moved that green-eyed klokateer to the makeup team,” Pickles said. “Charles found out she was letting me in the mail room and uh...look, it was either move her or lose her. But you could talk to her more now, since she’ll be at the promos shoot.” 

Nathan smiled a very small smile. “Would be nice to say hi...” 

“Yeah, cuz you think she’s pretty. Even with the hood,” Pickles teased. 

“She is,” Nathan said. “Don’t make it weird when she’s around us, okay? We don’t wanna creep her out.” 

“Don’t worry, I won’t ruin it for ya,” Pickles replied as he shoved a forkful of eggs into his mouth. “You’ll get your chance with pretty mail girl.” 

“Not ifs Murderface gets it firsts,” Toki said. “Ams almost normal lookings now.” 

They all stared at Toki, then at Murderface. 

“Huh...you do look decent. I mean, still weird to see, but I don’t know, it works somehow,” Pickles said, breaking the brief silence. 

Nathan nodded. “Still not getting her number though.” 

“I won’t even try,” Murderface replied, rolling his eyes. He could worry about getting groupies with his new look after all his work was done. Normally, he’d have been all over the idea right away, but this was different. 

“Nots going to beats my numbers,” Skwisgaar muttered. “But yous looks okay. Almost goods, even.” 

“What can I schay, I know what looksch good,” Murderface smiled. “I was right about my schorts being schexy as hell, now with thisch--I’m gonna be irresistible.” 

He shoveled his food in quick as the conversation moved on to some bullshit about Toki wanting more groupies at the end of each concert. He had more important concerns. He’d get the suit ready with all of the knives he’d set aside for the project, and figure out where to go for his first target. If he could, he’d head out for it tonight. 

As soon as he was done with his plate, he dashed back to his room and started putting them away. It was fun, with so many hidden pockets to fill. He’d never get caught without a weapon, and once he was done it would go back to its spot--no murder weapons to be left behind. 

“Perfect,” he breathed as he finished the suit and held it up in front of himself. 

“Is it?” 

Charles’ voice made him jump. He hadn’t even heard him come in. 

“How the hell...what the...you should learn how to knock!” Murderface yelled, carefully folding the suit in close to his chest, as if he could somehow prevent Charles from seeing it any further.

“Sorry,” Charles replied, a smirk on his face. 

Murderface felt sweat pooling on his face. Charles wasn’t supposed to know about this part of things. Just to know when the assholes were dead, so he could start the legal paperwork. “Uh...now you know my costume is really perfect! I’m gonna look great!” 

“You will,” Charles agreed. “Also, 4242.” 

“What does that mean?” Murderface asked. 

“The first executive you’re going to kill. The code to his penthouse door is 4242,” Charles replied matter-of-factly. 

Murderface knew his jaw was hanging open, but he couldn’t help it. How in the hell had he figured it all out?

“All the details for your orders lead to someone far away from here. Some ass in Ohio who keeps trying to scalp Dethklok tickets. If the worst happens, and they start tracking anyone down to nail for these killings, it’ll be that jerk. Not you,” Charles continued. 

“How did you--” Murderface started. 

“Does it really matter?” Charles asked. “Point is, you’re doing a good job of keeping your tracks covered--I’m just going to make sure they stay covered.” 

“How do I know you aren’t gonna fuck me over though?” Murderface asked. If there would be anyone to turn him in, he would guess Charles would be the first to do it. 

Charles looked genuinely hurt at that. “Look, I get it. I’m not fun, I don’t seem like the type to let you get away with this. Just--just know I’ve got my reasons for wanting you to be successful in this endeavor. I won’t fuck you over.” 

“What, you’ve got bodies buried out in a desert schomewhere too?” Murderface asked, snorting. 

Charles didn’t laugh. Didn’t chuckle. Didn’t move an inch. That was scary as fuck. 

“Uh, never mind. You don’t gotta anschwer that,” Murderface said quickly. 

Charles sighed. ‘Look, he leaves for the Bahamas soon. So we need to get you out to him by this time tomorrow. And to the rest fairly quickly too, if we want this thing shut down by Halloween.” 

“You...you don’t like the haunted housche either?” Murderface asked. He’d figured Charles honestly didn’t give that much of a fuck about it. 

“Of course I don’t,” Charles scoffed. “Makes you look bad, and by association, the band. You don’t deserve it, and neither do the guys. But I haven’t found a way to touch them yet legally, so this...well, it’ll be perfect.” 

Murderface was struck. Granted, he was just as concerned about the band as he was for him, but...someone gave a shit. Honestly, truly, cared. 

“I’ll let you know when the plane is ready. Get packed,” Charles instructed as he turned and headed for the door. 

“You know where they all are?” Murderface asked. “You’re schure?” 

“I wouldn’t send you if I wasn’t,” Charles replied as he left. “I’ll have an alibi for your absence, in case any of the guys notice. So just go with it, okay?” 

Murderface nodded, and rushed to pack as Charles footsteps faded down the hallway. 

In six days time, all the assholes would be dead, and everything would be good again. 

The excitement was delicious.

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

The plane ride was quick, yet not quick enough. Still, before he knew it, he was in front of the penthouse building. It wasn’t too far from Mordhaus, only about fifty miles. He’d expected to have to travel longer, but was glad he didn’t have to. 

It was a busy enough place that crowds bustled around him, and he could drift past people through the doors without anyone glancing at him. The security guard was asleep, and there was no one else in the lobby. He didn’t want to jinx it, but it almost seemed like it would be easy. 

Then again, it wasn’t like there was much to stare at. He looked like any other guy coming to stay with someone in the building, in a black tee and jeans that Charles had waiting on the plane for him. The black duffel bag that held his suit and mask looked like any other travel bag. He was just a visitor, no one to look twice at. 

It was an incredibly freeing feeling. He’d never thought he would miss being anonymous, but it was nice for a short time. 

The service elevator wasn’t even hidden; he found it down a hall just off of the lobby. On the ride up to the penthouse, he changed, his hands shaking. He stowed the bag in the small room that housed the upper level entrance to the elevator, then started down the hall to the door of the penthouse.

The design of which was gross even to him. It might have been called a penthouse, but it was technically the first two top floors--in his mind, it was bigger than a penthouse then. 

But he wasn’t there to argue exactly what this guy’s home qualified as. He punched the code into the door panel, grabbed a large kitchen knife from one pocket sheath, and started into the dark home. 

A bachelor, and it showed by the state of the penthouse. There was still a pile of coke laying on the living room table, which was just showy and ridiculous to Murderface. Erotic art covered the walls, and while he owned a few of the same pieces himself, even this was a bit of overkill. You could barely see the wall behind the art there was so much of it. 

A light shone in the darkness, probably a bedroom. He moved towards it, as quiet as he could manage. 

“Jasmine?” a raspy voice called out. “I didn’t expect you tonight, baby. I’m not gonna pay you for a surprise visit; I hope you know that. But I’ll be happy to have some company.” 

This was it. Murderface gripped the knife tight, and charged into the room. 

The executive was in a open robe and boxers, and stared in shock at Murderface. 

“What in the--” he started.

Murderface stepped forward and shoved the knife into his open mouth. It was hard to yank back out, but the choking noises were incredibly satisfying to hear as he stabbed again and again--the man’s fat gut, his chest, slashing across his arms as he back up and fell to the bed, raising them to try and defend himself. Blood was splattered across his mask, and sweat dripped down his face, but he was enjoying the exertion--which would figure. The only exercise he’d enjoy would have to be illegal. 

Finally, the executive stopped moving. His intestines were falling out of him, and blood drenched the silver silk sheets and painted the walls. It was glorious. 

“One down,” he muttered to himself. “Two and how many extras to go.” 

He checked three times for a pulse before he left. The walk out was as easy as the walk in too--he changed again in the elevator, using a rag in the bag to wipe his boots clean, and walked past the same guard who was still fast asleep. 

The air tasted sweeter outside. It was cliche, but so true. He felt good--he always talked about doing shit, but so often didn’t. It felt amazing to finally do something. 

And he was excited to do more.

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

He slept on the plane ride home, not bothering or caring to check the time. He’d get home when he’d get home, and deal with any questions from the guys if any of them were up. He hadn’t left too late, so they were likely to still be stumbling around watching TV or something. 

Sure enough, they were all squished together on a couch, seemingly half asleep. They bounced back to wakefulness once he walked in though. 

“You dog!” Pickles shouted. “We heard about her; Charles told us everything! Toki was right, the hair was the problem. Now you’re getting models!” 

He grinned as Pickles charged towards him and slapped him on the back. He kept a tight hold of his duffel bag as he was steered towards the couch. He didn’t want any of them getting curious and searching through it. This was a hell of an alibi that Charles had given him. 

“So?” Skwisgaar asked expectantly. 

“What?” Murderface asked. “The model?” 

“Yeah!” Nathan exclaimed. “How was she?”

“Uh, amazing, of course,” Murderface replied, hoping he sounded less awkward than he felt. “Juscht wild, you know how models are.” 

“Looks at him,” Skwisgaar chuckled, and gently patted his cheek. “Still all sweaty and disgustings. Goods for you!” 

Murderface just nodded and smiled. This was all good and fun (though it would be more fun if Charles also could supply him with an actual model to date) but he was still tired. And he needed to get his stuff into his room and clean it all up. 

“Look at that grin,” Nathan laughed. “God, are you finally gonna be fun? That’s awesome, if you are.” 

“Yeah!” Toki added. “Then wes all gets ladies for afters our shows, and everybody ams happy! Oh wowee, we gotta takes you out to celebrates!” 

“Yeah,” Murderface agreed as he stood from the couch. “Schome night later this week maybe. Or hey, what about Halloween? Big night out to celebrate!” 

They cheered. They’d never been this enthusiastic for one of his suggestions before. Was it the hair, the alibi and fake accomplishment, or the real confidence from the murder that he’d been missing all this time to get them to really like him? He wasn’t sure, but he knew he wasn’t ever going back to what he was before. 

“That sounds like fun, and I hate to interrupt the planning,” Charles said, suddenly in the room. They needed to put a damn bell on him. “Can I borrow Murderface for a moment though? After all, I’m sure he needs to actually get some sleep now!” 

Their happy laughter echoed down the halls as Charles gently pulled him away from the couch and to his room.

He shut and locked the door, and gestured to two plush armchairs at one wall of the massive bedroom. “Have a seat. You deserve the rest. Scotch okay?”

Murderface nodded and took in the room. It was very...Charles. Richly yet plainly decorated. All black and red, almost something out of Dracula’s castle with the velvet everywhere, yet nothing stood out about it to declare it as Charles’. The chair was comfy, if nothing else. 

He dropped his back by him as he dropped into the chair, and gratefully took the glass of scotch from Charles. 

“So...how was it?” Charles asked. 

He took a breath. “It wasch...amazing. I can’t wait for the next one.” 

He felt his cheeks flush as Charles grinned. 

“I’m glad you had fun. I figured you would, but I wanted to check in just in case. I’m proud of you for this, you know,” Charles said. “This is quite an undertaking. But you’re doing wonderfully.” 

Murderface nodded. “Thanksch.” 

The silence sat for a moment before Charles broke it. 

“You want to know why I’m so invested.” 

He nodded. “I mean...I get it. You take care of usch, and all our bullschit. But this...you’re really exschited for this.” 

Charles tossed back the scotch in his glass and smiled. “Well. I can’t tell you everything. In fact, there’s more I can’t tell you than there is that I can. But I--I had my own reasons to do this sort of violence you’re doing now. The why doesn’t matter so much anymore, not to me at least. But that’s because the people I needed dead are in the ground, rotting, and no longer a threat to me. And that is...very freeing.” 

“You feel safe,” Murderface found himself whispering, so quietly his speech impediment didn’t have a chance to start. 

Charles nodded, but his eyes were on his empty glass. “Yes. I suppose that’s the best way to describe it.” 

“Did you enjoy it?” Murderface asked. 

Charles chuckled. “I think you know the answer to that already.” 

He nodded. “Yeah. Bet you’d be out here doing these yourschelf if you could.” 

Charles sat up a bit straighter. “I mean...it would be fun. To do it again. Even just once. But I don’t want to take away from your fun.” 

“I’ll need help at the haunted housche,” Murderface replied. “I’ve got to take out the team lead, but there’ll be a bunch of actorsch we can take down too...I don’t want to be overwhelmed by anyone fighting back. You could come with, if you think you can make it.” 

Charles looked happier than he’d ever seen him before. “If you really want me to; I’d love to. I don’t get out very often anymore.” 

“It schows,” Murderface scoffed before he could catch his tongue. He looked nervously at Charles, awaiting the lecture.

Instead, Charles threw his head back and laughed. “Fuck. It does, doesn’t it? All work and no play...Yeah. I’ll come with for the haunted house. You can have fun with the second executive on your own first though.” 

“I schuppose you’ll have all the info for me about him by tomorrow?” Murderface smiled. 

“Of course,” Charles replied as they slowly stood and went to the door. He unlocked it, handed him the duffel bag, and patted Murderface’s back gently as he walked out. “Get some good sleep--you’re going to need the energy.” 

“What? Isch this guy schome sort of Olympian-executive or schomething?” he asked. 

Charles shook his head. “But you should be well-rested before these, uh, little adventures no matter what. Better form, and then you won’t tire out halfway through things.” 

Murderface nodded. “Hey...uh, thanksch. For all of thisch. I mean, I’d probably be fine on my own too, but--” 

Charles just nodded back. “I get it. Have a good night, Murderface.” 

The door clicked shut behind him as he started down the hall towards his room. He was definitely ready to sleep some more. But the morbid curiosity was gnawing at him too--what other skeletons did Charles have in his closet, and what exactly had he done to put them there?

Maybe he’d find out after Halloween night, if he could get him to join them for celebratory drinks. He hoped he would. 

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

[myraelvira]

Baby Jessica

Baby Jessica

Growing up in the 90's and early 2000's, I remember at the beginning of every school year teachers would show us a video talking about a little girl that fell down the well and had been miraculously rescued. As an adult, I've thought about this case from time to time but didn't really know much about it. I just mainly remembered the moral of the story, to watch your kids and not leave them around things that could hurt them.

The person in this case is Jessica McClure Morales, born on March 26th, 1986, in Midland, Texas. She was born to Chip and Reba (Cissy) McClure, who are described as having been just 18 year old kids that were just starting out. According to one source, the couple got married when Cissy was only 16, and Chip 17.

The first 18 months of her life went by normally, until October 14th, 1987. Jessica was at her aunt Jamie Moore's house, which was also a daycare center. She was playing with four other children in the backyard while under the supervision of her mother Cissy. At some point, there was a phone call which Cissy went to answer and left the children unattended. Minutes later, the children were screaming and Cissy rushed outside to find her daughter gone. Not long after, she discovered that her daughter fell into the 8 inch diameter well, being trapped deep in the shaft. One source states that the dry well had been dug years earlier, and was covered with a flower pot.

There is very little information as to how Jessica fell down the well, even to this day. Many articles on the story merely state that she fell down the well, and focus more on the rescue efforts that took place.

According to her mother Cissy, there was a heavy rock that allegedly covered the well "to prevent just such an accident". She stated that, "I didn't know what to do. I just ran in and called the police. They were there within three minutes, but it felt like a lifetime.". Her father Chip stated that it was "a nightmare that got worse and worse.".

Baby Jessica was trapped in the well for the next 58 hours. The shaft was 22 feet below ground and 8 inches wide. Jessica was deep in the ground, beneath layers of rock cited to be harder than granite. The way that she fell ended up leaving her right leg sticking up higher than her arm.

The entire country was captivated by the situation as it was broadcast on news stations all over the US. The situation was covered live on CNN, which was the nations first 24 hour news network at the time. She was dubbed "everybody's baby" and plenty of donations were sent in to her family. The donations totaled hundreds of thousands of dollars, which were set aside in a trust fund for her to inherit at the age of 25.

The rescue team had to use a large rat hole rig, which is a machine that is normally used to plant telephone poles in the ground. The rescue team drilled a 30 inch wide, 29 foot deep hole parallel to the well. The process of saving her was extremely difficult, as they did not want to risk permanently injuring her or breaking her spine.

Initially it was thought that Jessica could be saved within a day, but the narrow well made things extremely complicated. When this became known, the federal government flew a mining expert to lead the mass amount of people to save her.

While passing the time, Jessica moaned, cried, and even sang songs. The rescuers would listen to her, even being able to tell her moods. When a jackhammer would start up, she would use a "huffy little voice", sounding angry. Though she cried for 80% of the time, rescuers would sometimes ask her to sing. One person stated that they would never forget her singing "Winnie the Pooh".

On October 16th, 1987, Jessica was safely lifted out of the well. She would undergo 15 surgeries in the coming years to treat all of the complications. To this day, she has rheumatoid arthritis (having been diagnosed right before the 10th grade), a scar on her forehead, and a missing toe on her right foot that had been stuck above her arms. While in the well, the position she fell in caused her to catch gangrene, and doctors initially thought that they would have had to amputate her right foot. One doctor believed that he could save her foot, and skin was grafted from her hip to her foot. Unfortunately, her pinky toe had to be amputated.

Scott Shaw, a young photographer at the time, won a a Pulitzer Prize for his shot of the moment of the rescue.

Without food or water for over 2 days, she was estimated to have been 10-15% dehydrated. Medical personnel decided not to provide her with food and water, fearing that it could do more harm than good in case she had any internal injuries. She could survive for three to four days without water, and a hose was lowered to provide fresh air. A duct would deliver warm air so she wouldn't suffer from hypothermia. She went from 21 pounds to 17.5.

She received a phone call from President Ronald Reagan, and met Vice President George Bush and his wife Barbara Bush, when they visited her in the hospital. The Bush's were former Midland residents themselves.

In 1989, a made for tv movie was created about the incident, featuring many of the real participants participants of the actual rescue and coverage as extras.

There was a parade held for the rescuers, and the lead crew found themselves on the Oprah Winfrey show.

Jessica did not initially know that she was the child who caught the media's attention in 1987. When she got older, she enjoyed watching the show 'Rescue 911', to which there was an episode of Baby Jessica. Jessica had been moved to tears about the story, and had asked her stepmother what the girl's name was. She was told that it was in fact her, who was Baby Jessica.

She states that she remembers very little, if anything at all of the situation. One source quotes her as having remembered when they got her out. Cissy has stated that Jessica only remembers what she had been told. The situation was never brought up at home when she was growing up, as her mother feared that it would essentially overcome Jessica's life, and she'd be forever surviving the incident. There do not seem to be any photographs of the house that the event happened in, and the dry well has since had a metal plate welded over it.

Jessica's life has since been ordinary. She graduated from high school in 2004, and got married in 2006. She has had 2 children, and now teaches in the same school district that she went to school at. On March 26th, 2011, she gained access to her trust fund which was reportedly to have been 1 million dollars at some point. Unfortunately, with the stock market crash in 2008, her trust fund went to around 300,000 dollars. One source states that it was worth 800,000 dollars. Despite this, she was still able to buy a house, and plans on saving the rest for her children.

According to one source, Jessica's husband Daniel had been convicted in 2002 of impersonating a federal marshal to steal money from drug dealers. After the incident, Jessica's parents divorced in 1990, citing irreconcilable differences.Cissy remarried and took on the last name Porter. There hasn't been any interaction between her and the media for decades. Jessica's father remarried and had more children after her. He created a facebook page that sometimes updates about anniversaries of the story. He relocated to the Tyler, Texas area and made a living selling aircrafts. Allegedly, one source states that the residents of the Midland area were surprised that her parents' marriage lasted so long. It also states that Cissy studied cosmetology part time at the Aladdin Beauty College, and Chip started his own tractor rental business, which had been a life long dream.

When the couple divorced, there was public backlash as it was revealed that her parents had spent 80,000 dollars of Jessica's trust fund money. Sources state the majority of the money was to start Chip's tractor service company, and the parents bought a house and two cars. Sources allude that Jessica's parents could not deal with the fame, the money, and general media attention that the scenario brought. One source states that there was a rumor that Cissy refused to wait in line at a Denny's, and announced "I'm Jessica's Mother". The couple was rumored to have bought a Mercedes and a Rolls Royce with the trust fund money donated, though in reality they bought a Thunderbird. Cissy is reported to have had nightmares after the incident. Sources state that she would still hear the drills, her daughter's cries, and would wake up in a cold sweat.

The man who famously brought Jessica out of the well, Robert O'Donnell, met with an untimely demise. Despite being prone to claustrophobia, he agreed to extricate Jessica, his physique was tall and wiry, which was very helpful. Initially, another man offered to go into the tunnel, because he had been born without a collarbone.

Robert was able to grab Jessica by her pant leg and inch her back to safety. He is quoted as saying, "I've saved other people's lives before, but there will be nothing like this again.". Initially, when Robert pulled on her leg, she cried and tried to retract her leg, saying "No!".

The experience of being so down low in the drilled tunnel the rescuers created was compared to lying in a grave. Soon after saving Jessica, he was one of the people that were asked to appear on Oprah; he was also asked to judge the GI Joe American Heroes contest. Many sources state that he became intoxicated with fame, and even asked People magazine to help him write his autobiography. O'Donnell started to get migraines, and started popping pills. His wife kicked him out, and he lost his job when he started passing out at work from the heavy doses of pills. O'Donnell moved in with his mother, and would read his scrapbook alone. There was the inscription 'MY HERO' on it written by his mother in law, and allegedly seeing this would make him angry, and he'd throw the book across the room. O'Donnell is quoted as having said, "This is what ruined my life. I never want to see it again.". When Oklahoma City had been bombed in 1995, he wanted to go help, but didn't have the money for bus fare. Robert's mother noticed a shotgun missing from her ranch in Stanton, Texas. Police found him slumped in his new Ford pickup.

Robert O'Donnell shot himself a few days later on April 27th. He was 37 years old. Robert Edward O'Donnell is buried in Resthaven Memorial Park in Midland, Texas.

Robert had been a paramedic with the Midland fire department, and had just so happened to be off duty when Jessica fell down the well. His friends stated that Robert never truly recovered from the fame he got as one of the rescuers. Police Sgt. Andy Glasscock stated, "Robert never came out of it. We saved a little girl, but we've all lost a friend. Once the adrenaline subsides, you go into a major depression.".

Sources state that O'Donnell suffered from PTSD after the scenario.

---

One of the rescuers from the event, Andy Glasscock, plead guilty to two counts of sexual assault in 2005. He received a 20 year sentence, that was to run concurrently with a 2004 sentence of 15 years in federal prison, to where he was charged with storing explosives and child pornography. Glasscock was one of the EMS workers to rescue Jessica, and was a police officer in Midland. He had been with the police department from 1981 to 2004, of which he was fired on the state charges.

He had been arrested on Christmas Eve of 2003 at his house in Midland. The 50 year old woman in the assault case stated that he "possibly used a narcotic to cause her submission to a sexual assault.". Glasscock stated that he used Zolpidem (Ambien) to sedate the woman before having sex with her.

FBI special agent Bill Vanderland stated that they noticed the explosives when serving a warrant on the sexual assault charges. This prompted an investigation from the FBI, to where they found the child pornography.

Glasscock admitted in federal court to using a hidden camera to film a 12 year old girl undressing, entering, and exiting a shower at his residence. He also admitted to receiving hundreds of images of child pornography and bestiality over his computer from October 2001-December 2003.

As for the explosives, he admitted to improperly storing more than 400 pounds of high explosives, 1700 blasting caps, a detonator cord, an artillery shell, 2 pipe bombs, and 4 homemade hand grenades. He was credited with 445 days of time served.

Initially, Glasscock admitted to having gone out with the 51 year old woman, but denied raping her. There was a hospital examination though, which showed abrasion and bruises in critical areas of the victim. Glasscock is quoted as having said, "I'm a guy who likes sex, but I don't have to go out and force sex on anybody. I would never do that.".

He admitted to having viewed all types of pornography, but he said he was only interested in having sex with adult women. He asked, "Would I have sex with a little kid?". Glasscock is then quoted as saying, "Have I ever looked at child porn on the computer? Yeah, I have. It's there, and tons of it. I look at that as they're the only thing that's innocent on the whole thing.". (BRO I AM NOT SAYING THAT IN THE VIDEO)

He initially took the woman he raped on a date to restaurant in Odessa, and then to see the Christmas lights in Midland. After leaving the restaurant, he stopped and uncorked a wine bottle while standing at the back door on the passenger side of the vehicle. The victim stated, "He took a while to do this, so I turned around and asked if he needed help. He acted kind of strange and said no, then gave me a plastic cup of wine. He had a camera, which I thought was odd.".

Once they returned to Odessa, she started to black out, and didn't even remember going to her house. She only remembered being in her house and being very relaxed. Glasscock fondled, undressed, and then ultimately assaulted the victim. She kept noticing him with the camera, and repeatedly pushed him away, telling him to stop and leave. Glasscock kept telling her that he would leave in a few minutes.

There were reports that Glasscock raped other women, though no other victims came forth.

His FBI prison release was scheduled for June 23rd, 2017, he had been serving his sentence in Cumberland, Maryland.

On July 10th, 2016, Andy Glasscock passed away. His funeral was on July 15th, of that year in Midland. He was 64 years old. He is buried at Glenrest Cemetery, in Big Lake, Texas.

Had he still been alive, he would have potentially gotten out of prison around 2021 or 2022.

Andy's daughter remembered him as a "wonderful cop and never used his badge to do something he shouldn't have. He always wanted to help instead of busting down on everybody.".

Sgt. Mike McLain remembered Andy stating, "There's not a guy in the world who ever loved his kids more than Andy.".

Glasscock's ex wife asked that he be dealt with sternly, for using his daughter as a lure to bring her (daughter’s friend) home. In court, he stated, "I got off into sexual addiction like alcohol and drugs. I never meant to hurt anybody. I would never hurt a child. In my heart and soul, there is still good left in me. I have no excuse for what I did. I'm deeply sorry. I never meant to hurt anybody. I'm not a sexual monster. I don't know why I did what I did.".

Defense attorney Jeff Robnett said that Glasscock didn't think his experience with the Baby Jessica scenario caused any sort of PTSD that would have lead to his problems.

Glasscock is quoted as saying, "I look at it like the old cartoons back in the 60's where they showed God on one shoulder, and the devil on the other, and both of them arguing back and forth through your head. Satan won out, but he's not going to win anymore. God is with me.".

---

A plaque has been erected on the Midland center, in memory of the event.

[SOURCES]

wikipedia

https://www.biography.com/personality/baby-jessica

https://web.archive.org/web/20110326215656/

http://www.comcast.net/articles/news-national/20110325/US.Baby.Jessica/ https://www.mysanantonio.com/news/local/texas/article/Baby-Jessica-10993071.php

https://www.kcbd.com/story/6643201/twenty-years-later-where-is-jessica-mcclure-now/

http://www.caver.net/j/Baby%20Jessica%27s%20Parents%20Declare%20Their%20Marriage%20Past%20Rescue%20%20People_com.htm

https://www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-1992-10-11-mn-348-story.html https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/18824803/robert-edward-o%27donnell https://www.newsweek.com/baby-jessica-grows-174130 https://www.nydailynews.com/news/national/18-month-old-girl-saved-1987-article-1.2386153

https://archive.ph/20120904051652/

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/19165433/ http://www.caver.net/j/jrescue.html

https://www.oaoa.com/news/baby-jessica-rescuer-gets-20-year-sentence/article_02d9f677-bee8-5bc4-ad59-3fbf53b208be.html

https://www.legacy.com/obituaries/mrt/obituary.aspx?n=andy-glasscock&pid=180664589&fhid=23293

https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/166821280/w-a-glasscock https://www.chron.com/news/houston-texas/article/Officer-s-life-fell-apart-after-baby-Jessica-s-1951788.php

https://www.myplainview.com/news/article/Former-Midland-cop-gets-15-years-for-child-sexual-8864920.php

[dust2dust34]

Wanna Be Yours, 6/7 (Olicity, College AU, Explicit)

Summary: College AU. Felicity’s car breaks down in a major rainstorm, sending her walking to the closest house she can find. It just so happens to belong to Oliver Queen, and he’s having a ‘Skivvies Only’ party. (See AO3 for Author’s Notes.)

A/N: I don't have words for how much the response to this fic means to me! Every single comment and kudos and reblog and retweet, it's amazing. Thank you! And now the chapter we've all been waiting for...  This wouldn't be anything without my amazing beta Margaret. She does so much for me and I'm so grateful! Enjoy!

Two more songs that were sent to me for this fic, and I have to share them! True Colors by The Weeknd via @coal000 and Slow Hands by Niall Horan via @ellefraser17. Ugh, such feels i cannot. 

(read on AO3)

(read from the beginning)

Wanna Be Yours, Part 6

He didn’t remember falling asleep.

One second he was watching an old movie about jet fighters and the next someone was carding their fingers through his hair.

Felicity.

She was back.

Finally.

Oliver turned into the touch, smiling when his nose brushed the inside of her wrist.

Not opening his eyes, he nuzzled his face into her arm before reaching for her. His hand found her legs first where she was curled up next to him. He sighed, his palm skating over her knee and thigh, up over her hip to her waist. His smile grew as he turned his entire body towards her, wrapping her up, folding into her. She said something that sounded a lot like, “I didn’t mean to wake you,” but he just hummed, angling himself so he could bury his face in her chest.

When his mouth passed over her breast, she let out a breathy giggle, smoothing his hair down as she wrapped herself around him in turn.

It was the best fucking way he could ever be woken up, he decided - his Felicity, warm and perfect, fitting so wonderfully against him, her giggles echoing her quickening under his ear.

“Mmm.” Oliver cuddled into her. “You feel so good.”

He could hear the smile on her lips as she replied, “So do you.”

Oliver nose brushed the opening of her shirt, her skin so soft against him. He didn’t stop there, moving until he found her breast again. Her nipple was harder this time and when his lips hit it, she gave him a stilted gasp. His body tightened, his jeans becoming constricting as he did it again. Her nails dug into his scalp, silently urging him on.

He waited for the inevitable interruption, bracing himself to pull away from her because they weren’t alone… except they were alone. Everyone had left. They had the entire house to themselves.

Urgent need cut through him.

“What time is it?” he whispered, the words a raspy mess.

“It’s after midnight,” Felicity replied, kissing the top of his head.

The tiny gesture made him melt, but not enough to distract from what she said. “Midnight?” He held her a little tighter, hating that she’d been out there without him. He snuggled into the warmth of her shirt - no way in hell he was taking it back; this shirt was hers - wanting to get closer to her at just the thought of her being out there for two hours. “Why did it take so long? Did you get your car okay?”

“I did,” Felicity replied. “I think next time I’m going to leave breadcrumbs for myself because we couldn’t find it. That’s what took so long. Apparently I’d gotten turned around. I thought I was walking back towards the way I came, but I actually went down a totally different road and didn’t even know it. So my car was tucked in this weird tree hole…” She cuddled closer to him, laying her cheek against the crown of his head. When her glasses got in the way, she huffed, taking them off and setting them on the side table next to the couch before returning to her spot. “We even drove by it once before we saw it. And then there was getting it jumped, which was fine, but Ronnie thinks I should get a new battery, and I said I would. And then he lectured me about just going home and having you go to my apartment and then we talked about how far that was and what time it was and he said my car might not start without a jump again and long story short, I hope you have jumper cables because I might need them in the morning.”

Considering how late it was and how little sleep he’d gotten this weekend, it was a damn miracle he’d followed all of that. Although he’d always been able to. He never missed anything when it came to Felicity Smoak. And he definitely didn’t miss that just one tiny change last night and she never would have appeared at the party. She’d had a hellish night getting caught in the rain like that, but it’d ended with her on his doorstep and for that he would always be grateful.

And she’d specifically chosen to come back here, despite being told what could happen otherwise.

His heart brimmed over with happiness.

“I have some,” Oliver said. He was sure there were some in the shed, at least, and he’d damn well go find a store to buy some if he had to. He rooted around until he found her hardening nipple again. Felicity sighed, pressing her face against the crown of his head again as he wrapped his lips around it. There were too many damn layers, though, and his mouth watered at the thought of pulling it into his mouth again, of doing so much more than that, of laying her back, undressing her, tasting her…

His dick jumped to life, straining against hard denim as he bit down on her breast, making her whine his name. The hair on the back of his neck rose and he bit down harder, eliciting a small cry.

It was perfect and he wanted more.

Oliver gasped her name before abruptly sitting up, pulling her with him.

She let out a startled sound, her arms tightening around him as he sat back, hauling her into his lap, his hands coming up to her face, to guide her lips to his. She was already halfway there, though, her own needy whisper on her lips before her mouth covered his. Oliver immediately opened for her. They were suddenly back to that morning, all the need and desire and emotions surging to the surface. Except now it was even more vivid, because they’d had the day together. It’d been a another brand of intimacy - quick kisses, holding hands, laughing with friends, watching the sun go down - and now it was a fuel to the fire. They kissed with the same urgency, but with a new tenderness that hadn’t been there before. Today spoke to what they were capable of, what it would be like going forward, how things might be when they got to know each other all over again, when they shared more than just a day, more than their months of anger.

He couldn’t wait.

Felicity crowded him back against the couch cushions, grinding her hips down. His dick swelled even more than it already had and wrapped his arms around her, one hand gripping her shoulder, pulling her down even harder as the other drifted down her back, her spine, to her ass. God, he loved her ass. Where this morning he’d been so much more tentative, afraid to do something that might scare her away, now he gave in. He gripped her hard, pulling at her ass just as much as he pushed her even closer to him. She gave him delicate little cries, her entire body clenching in response as she kissed him harder.

It was heaven, absolute heaven. He slid his fingers down, between her cheeks, finding her sex. Even through the thin pants, he could tell she was wet - for him - and the heat, god, it scorched him. He curled around her as much as humanly possible as he pushed his hand further between her legs. He stiffened his fingers, rubbing them against her. Felicity let out a guttural moan, one he swallowed up, and shoved her hands into the collar of his shirt. Her fingers spasmed, her nails digging into his flesh, like the feeling of his skin against hers was too much, and it made every inch of him soar. Because he knew exactly how she felt.

For a long moment, they sat there, Felicity in his lap, riding both his bulge and his fingers through her pants, her hard nipples pushed against his chest, her hands migrating from underneath his shirt to his hair where she gripped the strands tightly as they drank from each other.

This morning they’d had to wait, but now they didn’t, and the reality of that sent heat rushing through his veins.

He growled, pulling her closer, delighting in the feel of her breasts pushing into him.

“Oh, damn it,” Felicity moaned, pulling back. Instinct had him moving after her, his lips finding hers again, and she gave in… but then she pulled back, just enough to speak. “I have an idea,” she whispered against his lips. The sensation was too much and Oliver captured her bottom lip between his, sucking on it, his teeth grazing it. She whimpered for him, her hips jerking against his, making his eyes roll back into his head… but she wasn’t done. “I’m clean,” she said. That caught his attention and he pulled back. “I don’t, like, sleep around or anything, but I do… sleep if the occasion calls for it - and by the occasion I mean I kinda just want to, which I damn well can because why should men only get that pleasure, and I’m babbling. Okay, um… three, two…. one. I’m…” She huffed out a breath, and Oliver furrowed his brow, trying to follow her logic through the haze of desire. “I get tested, so I’m clean. Are you? Clean, I mean, like… safe? It’s ironic I’m asking that right now because I didn’t care this morning, at all, but I’m about to suggest something that is the opposite of safe in so many ways and maybe an abundance of safety could counteract any non-safe thing… But it is safe, but it’s not, because stuff can still happen, but… god, Oliver, I need you and I am shockingly close to saying I just don’t care what happens and that’s a little scary and I need to know…”

“Felicity.”

She paused, inhaling quickly, like she hadn’t been breathing. Probably because she hadn’t.

Oliver sat back to look at her, cupping her face, smoothing his fingers down her jaw…

His chest constricted at the sight she made. Her hair was mussed, her lips red and swollen, beard burn decorating the tender skin around her mouth. Her eyes were glazed with need, her face flushed with pleasure. Fuck, she was stunning, and every inch of him yearned towards her, almost forgetting what she’d been saying. Her eyes danced over his face and he wondered if she saw his thoughts because her pupils blew wide, and she shifted, her hips rotating against his in the tiniest movement. Oliver’s lids fluttered shut of their own volition, but he forced them open again, unwilling to look away from her.

“Wh-what… um…” He cleared his throat, his hands dropping to her hips to stop her movements. “What are you asking me?”

“I was going to stop,” she said.

He frowned. “What?”

“When I was out,” she clarified breathlessly. “Earlier, I mean. For condoms. Because now we don’t have any and I’m about three seconds from asking how you feel about the pull-out method.” His eyes widened - oh, her babble suddenly made a lot more sense and holy shit, she’d been suggesting they go bareback. “But that’s dumb, right? That’s just… insane. I should go back out, because we need condoms. Now, right now.” His brain was spinning, for about a thousand different reasons, and it spun out of control when she arched her back, pressing her heat against him with even more alacrity as she pressed her lips to his again, moaning, “God, I need you, Oliver. I can’t believe how much I need you inside me-”

“I found some,” Oliver interrupted. “Upstairs. We have condoms.”

“We do?” Felicity repeated. “Then why are we just sitting here?”

That’s an excellent fucking question.

But when Felicity started to climb off of him, he knew the answer.

Oliver wound his arms around her, trapping her against his chest. He wanted to laugh at how much more control he felt in this instance, because the need to tell her how he felt overpowered his need for this woman. No, the feelings were equal, just on separate wavelengths, but no less powerful. He wanted to be inside her, he wanted to fucking bury himself as deep as he could and never fucking leave, but he also needed her to know that this was good, too, in its own way, that as long as he had her, in any way, shape or form, he was good.

“Because…” he whispered against her lips, “because the thought of not touching you when you’re right here drives me fucking insane.” Her breath hitched, her nails digging into him. “Because I never thought I’d get the chance to see you again, much less talk to you, much less…” Oliver’s arms turned to steel around her, pulling her down against him with so much force that she cried out. “Much less touch you, and kiss you… feel you like this…”

He ran his hands down her sides and up her back. She was so responsive, arching into his touch as much as shivering from it.

“God, Oliver,” Felicity breathed. “This is crazy.”

“What?”

“I want to drag you upstairs, but I also really love hearing you say stuff like that.” She laughed, shaking her head. “It’s… ridiculous. I don’t know what I’m feeling or what I should be feeling or what this is-”

“But it’s good?” he asked, pulling back to see her better. He brushed hair off her face. “It’s a good feeling?”

“Yes,” she sighed, her voice cracking. “I want both… I want you and I want you talking to me like that, because god, it’s…” Her lips brushed his. “I want all of it.”

And then she was kissing him again.

With a groan Oliver shoved his hands into her hair, angling her head to deepen the kiss.

They were too close to the precipice this time. The second her lips touched his, he lost any and all self-control he had and damn near devoured her. His feelings for her filled him to the brim, flooding his senses so he felt them in very brush of her skin against his, every gasp they shared, every breath, rivaled only by the actual sensation of having her in his arms. Her kisses were electric, addicting, and he wanted more, more, more…

Oliver sat up more fully, scooting to the edge of the couch. His hands dropped to her legs, making sure they were wound tight around his waist, before he grabbed her ass, the other wrapping around her back, and stood up.

Felicity clung to him.

Oliver had spent a lot of summers in this house. He knew exactly where everything was, down to the cracks in the hardwood floor. But in this moment, he didn’t know a damn thing. Every inch of his focus was on the woman cradled in his arms, on kissing her, chasing her eager moans and finding new ways to make her shiver against him. So he didn’t see the corner of the couch that rammed into his thigh or the lamp they brushed by, nearly sending it crashing to the ground. He didn’t see the wall they narrowly missed or the banister of the stairs that he almost walked into.

He definitely felt all of it, though.

Growling under his breath, Oliver gripped her tight, making sure she was plastered to his body before his other arm swung out, hitting the wall with a thud. His hand brushed the hanging frames there as he slowly started climbing the steps, moaning his displeasure whenever Felicity’s kisses slowed down.

He didn’t care how long it too him to get up these steps, he was going to do it without losing a single second with her.

They were a couple feet up the stairs when his foot hit the next step, almost making him trip. It was only because Oliver was going so damn slow that he didn’t fall and crash right onto the precious bundle in his arms.

Oliver froze with a grumbled, “Fuck,” his arm flying back to protect Felicity before he really did fall.  “Stupid fucking…”

He hiked her closer, ready to start all over again when he felt it.

She was giggling.

Felicity’s body shook with laughter, her curves rubbing against him with as the full-bodied giggles radiated through her chest and into his. It was adorable and gorgeous and contagious and before Oliver knew what he was doing he was laughing with her.

Oliver hummed, leaning against the banister of the stairs. “I guess the first night we make love shouldn’t involve me breaking my leg,” he whispered.

The words were out before he could stop them - ‘make love’ - and he knew he’d said too much. Shit. It was too fast. While today had only confirmed what he had always known about his feelings for Felicity Megan Smoak, he was positive that she wasn’t even close to being there. She’d thought he was joking last night when he finally fessed up about his feelings to her, assumed it would be a one time thing, and even after sleeping in the same bed together, she hadn’t believed him, not until she saw physical proof in the form of that gum wrapper he’d kept stashed in his wallet for so long.

It was too fast and he got his confirmation an instant later when Felicity froze. She didn’t stiffen, so much as she just… stopped.

Shit.

“Make love?” she repeated.

He wanted her to laugh, to joke, to think he was being hokey or silly, to at the very least tease him, but he couldn’t, because he wasn’t joking. He meant exactly that.

“It’s just… I’m not saying…”

The words stumbled out of Oliver’s mouth and he silently cursed, grimacing. He was a giant fumbling goddamn idiot and he couldn’t think with her so close. The last thing he wanted was to make her think he was pushing, in any capacity. Oliver slid his hands up to her waist and urged her off him. She let him go with ease and he instantly missed her warmth, feeling the ghostly imprint of her body wound around his. He wondered if the way her brow furrowed was his imagination because it was gone a second later as she stared at him. And it was at him, because she was two steps up from him and they were eye-to-eye.

Oliver swallowed, nerves nesting in his stomach. “Felicity, I don’t… it’s a term, I wasn’t…”

Hadn’t they just promised that they’d be honest with each other? Because it wasn’t just a term. It was more, so much more. But he didn’t want to freak her out. Thoughts raced through his head and he tried to capture at least one to help him find the right thing to say.

“I don’t want you to think that I’m trying to…”

“Oliver.” Felicity’s fingers covered his lips. The words stalled on his tongue and he stopped breathing. He wondered how he could feel her fingers so readily when his lips were slowly numbing as he stared at her. He couldn’t read the look on her face and it was making his skin feel too tight when she finally smiled. “It’s okay.”

“But I want you to know-”

She put more pressure on his lips to still them. “I do. I do know. Now… stop thinking so much.”

Oliver blinked, trying to understand what she was saying, but all he could do was smile at the callback to the night before. As his lips moved under her fingers, her eyes dropped to his mouth, gentle wonder shifting to something darker. His heart climbed into his throat as she slid her hand up to cup his cheek, his whiskers scraping against her palm…

And then she was kissing him again

It was soft, so very soft, and he sighed, leaning into her. It didn’t escape his attention that she didn’t say anything about his choice of words, or his fumble, that she’d gone back to telling him to stop thinking so hard about everything. He would have laughed at the irony of who was the one thinking too hard between the two of them considering their history before this weekend, but then Felicity’s tongue swept over his lips and all that mattered was her.

As they kissed she held him with such care, such trust, such… He didn’t let himself think the word, he couldn’t. But something was different. He didn’t know what or how he knew, but there was something different in the way she kissed him, in the way she held him, touched him. It was so tender, making his entire being ache, almost like…

Like maybe her feelings were deeper than he let himself hope.

“It’s okay.”

Did she…?

Hope slammed into him. His thoughts and feelings clashed together, sending a hot flush up his neck. He had to be imagining it, right? Because that would be… god, his entire life would be made. He had to check, he had to see. He had to know.

Oliver pushed his hands up to hold her face, whispering, “Felicity,” as he pulled back.

She heard his barely audible plea and she pulled back, looking up at him.

He brushed his fingers over her cheeks, pressing some of her hair off her face. His fingertips skated down along her jaw before moving back up, his thumb grazing the corner of her mouth… and he stared into her eyes.

She didn’t hold back a single thing.

It was real.

Oliver grinned, saying her name just as she gave him the most beatific smile, her eyes lighting up, her face glowing.

It was real.

They were being honest, in their own way, letting each other in, and it was more than he could have dreamed.

His grin damn near split his face as he kissed her again. It was her turn to melt against him, her knees buckling slightly. Oliver wrapped his arms around her, keeping her close, melding his body to hers. She made a gentle breathless sound that struck him right in his heart. It was a heady combination with her lush curves pressing into him, the heat of her skin scorching through their clothes.

She arched her back, her abdomen pressing against his aching arousal.

Oliver slipped his hands up under her shirt. They both hissed, just before he pushed his fingers under the band of her pants. Felicity shuddered, goosebumps raising under his touch, giving him that moan again, that delicious perfect moan. He pushed his hands in further with a ragged, “God, Felicity,” as he drowned in her.

“Yes,” she whispered, pulling his lips back to hers. “Yes.”

Oliver slipped one hand back around to her ass - her skin was so hot it burned, but she gasped like the opposite was true - as the other slid to the front of her panties. He pushed his hand between them, groaning at the added pressure of his fingers against his hardness, but it quickly got swept away as he slid his fingers over the front of her panties. They were already damp, nearly soaked through when he ventured lower, closer to her entrance.

“Ooh,” Felicity whined, nodding rapidly where she clung to him. She arched her hips into his touch, her head falling back. Oliver held her up as he pressed his fingers against her sex. “Oliver… Oliver.”

He kissed a wet line up her throat, nipping at her, working his way up her jaw, around her chin. She moaned, rocking against his fingers, getting just enough friction to make her whine for him. Her fingers skated up the sides of his neck, her nails scraping over his ears before she shoved her hands into his hair, urging him closer.

Oliver pushed his fingers underneath her panties, touching her swollen, needy sex.

They both moaned. She was so wet, soaking his fingers as brushed over her clit in a way that had her bucking against him. And then he went lower, brushing over her puffy nether lips. She was so hot and wet and tender and he could feel his control spiraling away from him. Oliver moaned again, the sound getting lost in her drugged whispers. He gripped her ass tight, digging into the ample flesh, earning a wild, “Oh god, yes… yes.”

He swirled his fingers at her entrance before slipping a finger inside her. Her inner walls immediately clamped down around him, giving him a guttural moan, her body tightening, her hands fisting in his hair hard enough to make him see stars. Oh god, he needed more, he needed to feel more of her. Oliver pushed her back against the wall, frames rattling under her back, but they didn’t notice, too lost in each other. He added a second finger, cupping her sex like he had this morning, rubbing against her as he rubbed himself against the back of his hand. Pleasure swamped him, and he rubbed harder against her.

It was so, so much… but it also wasn’t enough.

“Felicity…”

“Yes,” she replied, searching for his lips.

“I need you,” he whispered, his lips brushing hers. His voice became desperate, even more than he already was. “I need to be inside you, Felicity.”

She cupped his face, pulling him back to look him in the eye. “Take me upstairs, Oliver.”

They were the most erotic words Oliver had ever heard.

Yanking his hand out of her pants, Oliver grabbed her hand and pulled her behind him. He moved fast, but she kept up the entire way, giggling when they dodged furniture and a bag of bottles he’d forgotten to take downstairs. His room was open, waiting for them with a welcoming glow of light, and the second they crossed the threshold he pulled her into his arms and kicked the door shut.

Felicity grabbed his shirt, pulling his lips down to hers just as he wrapped her up in his arms, damn near yanking her off her feet.

The hesitancy they’d experienced last night when the door closed behind them was nowhere to be found as she simultaneously pulled him back to the bed as much as he pushed her back.

When her legs touched the mattress, Oliver grasped her waist, lifting her up onto it. Felicity grabbed at his shirt, scrambling up underneath it, pushing it up. He pulled away long enough to rip it off over his head before he started unbuttoning her shirt as she grabbed his hips, pulling him between her legs. She touched as much of him as she could, reaching behind him to grab his ass before coming around to his front, her nails scraping the denim deliciously. His dick twitched, damn near reaching for her. Felicity cupped the heavy bulge waiting for her, her hand wrapping around him so perfectly that he forgot how to breathe.

“Oh… shit,” Oliver hissed.

Sensation rocketed through him, his eyes rolling into the back of his head, his hands making tight fists in her shirt. He said something unintelligible, something that made her laugh, and something that made her squeeze him, rubbing her palm against him.

His hips jerked forward, seeking more friction, and she gave it to him.

It was fantastic, sensational, fucking amazing, and he quickly lost himself in her touch, every single nerve focused on her.

But then she moved, making him groan his displeasure, before he realized what she was doing.

“Off,” Felicity whispered, starting to unbutton his jeans.

Oliver nodded, gasping, “Off,” mostly because it was all he was capable of as he got back to her shirt with unsteady fingers.

Their moves were frantic, fueled by need and lust and so much more. His body hardened with each inch of flesh he revealed as he undid her shirt, and he felt her breaths growing shorter and more erratic as she undid his pants.

He finally reached where she’d knotted the shirt up at her midriff, and as his fingers started working it loose, he leaned over her, nudging her head back so he could capture her lips again. The kiss was messy, uncoordinated, both of them distracted, but that didn’t stop them from trying to do both, from touching each other as much as possible, from taking and giving everything they had.

Oliver finally got her knot undone and his moves started becoming even more frantic, so eager to touch, to feel. He moved to push the shirt off her shoulders, his fingers already itching to get under the thin straps of her bra, to push it off her shoulders, to tug the cups down so he could taste her nipples again… but then she finally got his pants undone and she yanked them open, her fingers digging into the band of his jeans and boxers, her fingers hot against his bare hips.

Yes, yes, yes, don’t stop, don’t stop…

He was five seconds away from pushing her back so he could rip her pants off and buy himself as deeply as he could inside her…

But he didn’t want that. No, he really did want, he wanted that a fucking lot, but not this time, not right now.

“Wait,” Oliver gasped, pulling back, his hands covering hers.

She froze, looking up at him. God, she was fucking stunning. Oliver leaned back in, needing to feel her swollen lips against his with an alarming fervor.

The kiss quickly spiraled out of control again and they were right back where they had been before - her hands pulling his pants down, his shoving her shirt off - before Oliver yanked himself away. Again.

It was too fast. He wanted to savor this, needed to revel in it, and as much as he wanted her - god, he needed her, so bad it hurt - he also wanted to make this last.

He also had zero doubts where her hands were headed once she got his pants down and he knew he wouldn't make it if he felt her fingers wrapped around his length. The imagery was almost too much and he held his breath, his cock twitching painfully against the painful bindings of his jeans. The zipper dug into him where Felicity had pulled it open and the pain did nothing to alleviate the ache.

When all he did was stand there, just staring at her, Felicity bit her lip, a flash of uncertainty touching her face. Fuck, he needed to stop thinking so damn much, but he was kind of glad he was, because he wanted to take his time and that was proving impossible when they gave into the intense craving they had for each other.

“Is this okay?” she asked.

God yes, it’s so okay, it’s more than okay.

“Felicity,” he whispered, cupping her face, bringing her lips to his. He kissed her softly, gently, sighing against her lips when she instantly responded. “Yes,” he answered. “It's…”

Perfect.

He didn't realize he'd said that out loud until she smiled, a tender shy tug of her lips right against his.

“A little early to be calling it perfect, isn't it?” she teased.

Oliver shook his head. “No,” he said, “because anything with you is perfect.” She fell silent, and the same hesitation from earlier hit him, but this time he forged on. He slipped his fingers over her cheeks, sliding them up over her temples and the soft hair there before he pushed wayward strands off her forehead. “You are always exactly where I want to be. It doesn’t matter what we’re doing or where we are, as long as I’m with you, it’s exactly what I want. Even when we were fighting and yelling at each other about that damn project, I didn't want to be anywhere else.”

Felicity’s skin warmed under his touch. “So that's why I could never get rid of you, huh?”

“Even when I was positive that you hated me,” Oliver said, “I always had a better day when I got to see you. It was even better when we talked, even if we were just fighting. I just… I would rather spend the entire day with you glaring daggers and cursing at me under your breath than be away from you.” His lips quirked. “I’d rather you yell at me instead of ignore me…” Felicity huffed out a chuckle, remembering the many times she'd done just that. “But even then, I’d take it just to be closer to you.”

“God,” she breathed, “you're really good at that.”

Oliver furrowed his brow, his eyes drinking her in. “What?”

“Saying the exact thing that will make my heart feel like it's going to…” Felicity waved her hands. “You know that feeling when it's really full, and you can’t breathe, but it’s in a really good way, like… like it’s about to explode and all you can do is feel?”

“I know exactly how that feels.”

She stared at him, the lamplight catching the way her face softened with emotion. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said, before his lips covered hers, needing to show her as much as tell her.

Felicity moaned, a tiny sound from deep in her chest, but instead of kissing him back, taking control as she had been doing, she gave him the reins, letting herself fall into his hands with perfect trust. He cradled her closer, his hands slipping into her hair, keeping the kiss soft, wanting to cherish this amazing moment. There was nothing like when they were on the same wavelength, when they both knew with one hundred percent certainty that this was real and it was happening. It made everything more vivid, touching him in the very depths of his heart.

Oliver held her closer, worshipping her with his kisses, his touch, his soft sighs. She returned every single one, her hands sliding around his waist, hugging him tight.

He wanted to make love to her.

Kissing her in a series of lingering touches, he kissed the corner of her mouth, her cheek, the tip of her nose, her brow. She closed her eyes, leaning into his touch, her lips parting when his hands slipped from her hair and down her neck, over her shoulders, his fingers pushing underneath her shirt.

He pulled back to watch his hands as he slipped it off her slowly. He watched the play of her muscles as she pulled her arms free, leaving the shirt to pool around her hips.

Oliver dragged his fingers up her bare arms and when she shivered, her head falling back at the sensation, his eyes flew back to her face.

Would he ever not feel that stab in his chest at just how beautiful she was? He hoped not.

Her bra was next. Oliver slid the straps off her shoulders, her breasts falling in the thin cups. Her hard nipples caught on the material and his mouth watered, knowing they were dusky little peaks, remembering how they felt against his tongue. Her soft skin glowed in the lamplight, a stark contrast to the dark bra, and his body responded. He wanted to spend the next several hours on her breasts alone. But that would come later. Because they had a later. They had time.

Felicity licked her lips and reached behind her, unhooking the bra, her wet mouth catching the lamplight.

Oliver pulled it off, revealing her gorgeous breasts. Dropping her bra on the ground, he cupped them, his thumbs brushing over her nipples, his lids growing heavy. She let out a shuddery sigh and when he looked up at her, his stomach dipped at the pools of passion in her eyes. They only deepened as he circled his thumbs around the hardening buds, her breath hitching as she pressed her chest closer to his touch. He palmed her breasts, and she moaned.

Her reaction tore at him, need whipping through him with so much intensity his lungs seized.

Oliver surged forward, his lips finding hers in a searing kiss. His thumbs grazed the underside of her breasts as she fell back under his assault. He delighted in the shiver she gave him when his fingers brushed down her back. He wanted to push her back and climb on top, press the length of his body against hers, but he stopped himself.

He wanted to feel all of her, completely, totally.

With a moaned, “Felicity,” he kissed her chin instead, and then down, down…

She fell back on the bed, spreading her legs for him, her hands gripping his shoulders to pull him with her, but he had other plans. Felicity whimpered, whispering, “Oliver, please,” as she pushed her hands into his hair, gripping it tight, but he just nipped at her collarbone instead.

He worked his way down her body, pausing at her breasts. He sucked a nipple between his lips, swirling his tongue around it, making her cry out his name. His cock jumped at the sound. Oliver moved to the other one, but he avoided her nipple this time, much to her chagrin. He smiled at the noises she made as he kissed the delicate skin of her breast, his tongue laving her. She tasted different from this morning - then she’d been clean from her shower, but now there was a fine layer of saltiness that he wanted more of. Oliver sucked and pulled, hard enough to leave a bruise.

A wave of possession hit him and he found himself sucking even harder, wanting to leave his mark on her, before he forced himself to back off. It felt archaic, thinking of it that way, thinking of her that way…

Felicity instantly disagreed, shaking her head, wrapping her legs around his waist as she gasped, “Oliver, please… please…” urging him to where she needed him. The desperate plea was all it took for him to wrap his lips around her nipple and suck on it. Her next cry was louder, but that wasn’t nearly enough. Oliver greedily pushed the hard bud against the roof of his mouth where he rubbed it back and forth, eliciting a ragged, “Aah,” from her as her fingers spasmed against his scalp, her feet anchoring on his back to thrust her hips up against his chest.

He could feel her arousal for him through her pants.

Oliver growled, the vibrations around her sensitive flesh making her moan as he flattened his body against her, giving her more friction where she needed it.

It also had him rubbing the painfully hard bulge in his pants right against the side of the bed.

His hips jerked and he released her nipple with a hissed, “Fuck,” as pleasure had bursts of stars exploding against his closed lids.

He couldn’t wait. He needed her. Now.

Oliver stood up, his fingers slipping into the band of her pants and panties. He pulled them down and Felicity lifted her hips to help. The leggings stuck to her legs like glue, and he peeled them, unable to hold back his huff of annoyance when they didn’t just evaporate. Felicity laughed, a deep throaty sound, and that did nothing to ratchet down his need as she pulled her legs back for him until she was completely naked.

She laid before him, completely open to his gaze, and he paused, taking her in.

“You are so beautiful,” he said.

Felicity smiled, blushing, and he watched in fascination as it started on her chest, spreading up neck but also down, coloring her breasts. She bit her lip, her legs scissoring together. He wanted to smooth his hands over them, urge her to open them again, to never hide from him.

He hoped she could see it in his eyes, and he thought she did when she smiled at him, her body relaxing again before she sat up. Felicity hooked her fingers into his exposed boxers with a low, “C’mere.”

Oliver’s stomach fluttered. His hands found her shoulders as Felicity pulled his jeans down his hips, leaving them to slide down his legs before she tugged his boxers down next. He felt her breathing change as she moved, pulling the material down just enough for the very hard evidence of his arousal to pop free from its bindings. He was so damned sensitive the cool air was enough to make him hiss, but that was nothing compared to when Felicity’s hand wrapped around him.

“Oh god,” he gasped, his hips jerking into her touch.

His length slid against her palm. She moved her hand around him, twisting her wrist up to the tip where she brushed her thumb over the head.

Oliver choked out a breath, gripping her shoulders tight, falling forward until his forehead hit the crown of her head. His breath was hot against her hair as she wrapped both hands around him, smoothing them down, and he swore he got harder, swore he felt himself swell even more, which felt like a fucking feat all things considered. But it was Felicity holding him like this, her hands around him, her touch sending pleasure flooding his veins. The thought of it crashed with reality and his cock jumped in her hands. Felicity slid one hand down to cup his balls, her other twisting back to cup the very tip again… and then she leaned forward, like she wanted to take him into her mouth. Oh god. Every single inch of him yearned towards her, wanting to feel her lips wrap around him, her tongue taste the cum he knew was beading at the tip, to feel her swirl it around as she sucked him into her warm mouth…

He was suddenly vividly aware of the fact that he hadn’t gotten off since last night in the shower and while that had been spectacular, thinking about the soft curve of Felicity’s back, it was nothing compared to right now.

Oliver stepped back, forcing Felicity to let him go. He shook his head as he cupped her head, bringing her face back up to his as he whispered, “I won’t last if you do that,” just before he kissed her. He was painfully aware that she was sitting before him, completely naked, her legs spread, her wet heat right there, waiting for him, and he whimpered, kissing her harder before he ripped himself away. “Condom,” he said against her lips.

“Condom,” Felicity agreed, nodding, kissing him one more time before letting him go.

Oliver stepped out of his jeans and shoved his boxers down before stumbling over to the nightstand. The drawer was filled with condoms - thank god - and he grabbed one, instantly tearing it open. He rolled it on and turned around to find Felicity already lying diagonally across the bed, her legs parted just enough to see her glistening sex.

Dear fucking god, she was so gorgeous, so perfect, so amazing…

His jaw dropped, his needy ache for her making his cock hurt.

With half-lidded, lust-filled eyes, she raised her hand, beckoning him to her.

He crawled onto the bed and over her, letting out a shaky breath when she opened herself to him. Felicity welcomed him with open arms, the quiet smile on her lips making his heart skip a beat. Oliver settled over her, angling himself so his hardness wasn't pressed right against her heat just yet. That didn’t stop pleasure from suffusing his entire being when he pressed himself right into the crook her inner thigh made. It was only amplified when she wrapped herself around him, her hands skating down his back, her lips finding his cheek, his temple, his ear.

He sunk against her like she was made for him, like he was home.

Oliver shivered under the weight of that thought.

He wasn't the only one.

Felicity’s fingers trembled where she held his face.

Like a switch went off, every ounce of his focus shifted from their precarious position and right back to her.

Oliver propped himself up on his elbows so he could see her. He cradled her head between his palms, pushing his fingers through her hair and against her scalp as he whispered, “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Felicity nodded, a brief smile pulling at her lips. “Yeah, I'm okay.” Her eyes switched to watch her hands as she played with the edges of his hair, a tiny anxious line forming between her brows. “I'm just…”

It would only be later that Oliver would look back and realize this was the first time he didn't freak out about her half-sentences, or fill in the empty spaces with his own fears. That was gone, because now he knew that was with him just as much as he was with her.

“What?” Oliver urged. Another thing he'd recognize later was how easy it was to shut off his body when it came to making sure she was okay. “Hey.” Her eyes found his again. “Talk to me, Felicity.”

For a split second the anxious line smoothed away, like the sound of her name on his lips was enough to do that, but then it was back.

“I'm… I’m nervous, I guess,” Felicity admitted in a hushed voice. She huffed out a little laugh as she closed her eyes and Oliver wanted nothing more than to soothe her worries away with the brush of his hand. But he knew that was impossible so instead he rubbed his thumbs against her temples, waiting for her to continue. He could see the words forming on her face before her eyes fluttered open again. “I'm always a little nervous for the first time…”

He smiled softly. “Me too.”

“But this feels… different.” Felicity met his gaze, smiling before biting her lip. “It's special.” The words were barely audible, but even if he hadn't heard them - and he was so grateful he did, because they sent his heart soaring - he would have seen it on her face. She stared at him, searching his eyes. “This is special. This, and… us.”

The vulnerability and wonder shining at him through her eyes hit him hard.

“Yeah,” Oliver whispered. “It is.”

Felicity’s eyes danced over his face, and he hoped she saw everything he felt for her, everything he wanted to say. It wasn't confirmation that they were both in this, because they'd already done that. This was more.

She gave him a watery grin and a wispy, “Oliver,” before she pulled his lips down to hers.

Happiness.

It was in her voice, and it was what he tasted as she kissed him.

They kissed for the longest time and then moved as one, Felicity wrapping herself around him as Oliver stretched the length of his body over his. His hardness rubbed against her and he whimpered, his hips jerking involuntarily at the sensation, inadvertently rubbing himself right against her heat.

Felicity nodded, whispering, “Please,” between kisses. “Oliver…” Her voice dropped as she said, “Make love to me.”

Oliver’s heart somehow stopped and started at the same time. He cupped her head, pulling back to look at her, needing to make sure he heard her correctly. He did. She stared up at him, and the intensity in her gaze set him on fire. Emotion seared through him, flooding him, and it was his turn to nod. Never breaking eye contact, he kissed her softly and then he slipped a hand between them.

Her breath hitched when his fingers grazed her wetness. He slipped his finger over her entrance. Her inner walls spasmed, aching to be filled.

“Yes,” Felicity said, kissing him, sliding her hand down his arm to grip his forearm tightly. “Oliver.”

He shifted his hips back, both of them sighing at the sensation of his length brushing over the damp skin of her thigh, before he gripped his length.

Oliver slid himself through her wetness, up and over her clit, spreading her juices, before he found her entrance.

He slowly pressed himself inside her, just the head.

“Oh… god…”

It was perfect.

She was perfect.

Felicity’s mouth fell open in a breathless moan as he shuddered, his forehead falling against hers. Her warmth encased him, dominating every sense until all he could feel was her embrace. She rocked her hips up, and he slid in further, so easily. Her body was ready for him, and the second she gave him another eager thrust, urging him deeper. God, he wanted to take his time, to feel her, to make sure she was ready so this was perfect for her…

But her slight movements pushed him over the edge and he gave in.

Oliver thrust into her, in to the hilt, filling her completely.

Felicity stiffened with a gasp, not as ready as he thought. Her breaths came in uneven pants that he matched as he gritted his teeth, forcing himself to pause, letting her adjust to him… fighting the nearly undeniable desire to start hammering into her. She just felt so damn good around him, so warm, so wet, so smooth.

He cursed, fighting for equilibrium, grabbing her hip to hold onto something.

“Oliver,” she moaned, grabbing his face, anchoring him to her with a kiss. He groaned against her lips, kissing her back, rocking closer to her. The move pushed him even deeper, his pubic bone pressing to her clit. Felicity broke away with a breathy cry followed by a, “Yes…”

He rocked against her again, and she matched him perfectly, her hips thrusting up in return.

Concentrating on her, he focused on her responses, on the delightful noises she made as he moved inside her with shallow thrusts. Her walls clenched around him, but his pleasure faded into the background as he fixated on her, pressing wet kisses to her face, peppering them everywhere as he started deepening his thrusts.

She choked out his name, her hands finding his hair again, fisting it. Felicity buried her face in his neck, panting his name, her sounds morphing into cries as he pushed himself even deeper, angling his hips to brush over her clit.

“Ooh…!” Felicity cried, pressing her mouth to his shoulder, muffling the rest of her sounds as he did it again, and again.

Her hot breath was a stark contrast to the cool air in the room and goosebumps sent a shiver down his spine. His own pleasure spiked, a white wave of it crashing through him.

“Aah, Felicity!” Oliver gasped, falling against her.

He thrust harder, losing himself in her wet heat, in the feel of her mouth on his skin, her moans of his name, her hands on him.

It wasn't enough, he needed more. He wanted more, he wanted to surround himself in her, bury himself as deep as he could, lose himself in her…

Oliver shoved his arms underneath her, wrapping her up in his arms, cradling her against him so intimately his chest burned. She immediately reciprocated, pulling her legs up - he slid into her so fully that he whimpered, a cascade of words he couldn't comprehend falling from his lips. She locked her ankles against his back, winding her arms around his neck. He pulled a leg up, pinning her to the bed as he buried his face in her throat, planting messy kisses to the long, delicate column.

But it wasn't enough.

He wanted to connect with her, completely, totally.

Oliver kissed his way up her throat, her jaw, his lips brushing over her cheek, his stubble catching her lips before he kissed her. And then he looked at her. She was already watching him and the instant their eyes met, the intensity of their position ratcheted up to near-blinding levels.

A million and one words flew between them, and he wanted to say all of them, right now, but he didn’t have to.

Keeping one arm wrapped underneath her back, Oliver slid the other up until he was cupping the back of her neck, his fingers sinking into her hair.

Their gaze never once faltered as he pulled his hips back and thrust into her, again… and again.

Felicity’s mouth trembled, parting on a moan, her skin flushing to match the pink of her lips, and he knew she felt it too, their connection. The power of it made the room spin, but it wasn’t distracting or debilitating, because he was in her arms, and he knew he was safe there.

Oliver watched her, reading her reactions, changing the angle of his thrusts until he found the perfect spot.

When he finally did, he watched in fascination as her entire countenance shifted, a new pleasure flooding her features, her mouth falling open in a desperate cry. Her eyes slipped shut for a second, but she forced them open, finding his again, unwilling to lose the contact as much as he was.

It only amplified everything, making each thrust resonate more with a sharpness he felt in the soles of his feet. He grazed her clit with each thrust, right where she needed it, watching her start to crumble in his arms. It was beautiful, so fucking beautiful, something he could watch forever, and he did. He kept his eyes on her, responding to her whimpers of, “Right there, yes… yes, don’t stop… Oliver, Oliver… Oliver,” following her cues as best he could, wanting to see her come.

Sweat beaded along his spine as the familiar burn of his own pleasure started to build.

He gripped her tighter, fighting it, wanting her to come first.

But then she started thrusting back against him, her walls clutching him tight, and he shuddered.

“Oh… god,” Oliver whispered, his hips moving faster. Her cries became sharper, louder, her nails digging into his back. She nodded, holding her breath as they both moved. Pleasure and passion glazed her eyes, the flush in her cheeks suddenly shifting as she furrowed her brow in concentration. “Felicity,” Oliver moaned, his lids growing heavy as heat curled at the base of his spine. “Please… Felicity… Felicity…”

A breathless cry was his response.

Felicity cupped his face, pulling his lips to hers before sliding one hand down to his ass. He cursed when she dug her nails into him, and he thrust harder, sinking into her warmth with more urgency. She met every single thrust with uneven jerks of her hips, breaking away when the need for oxygen became too much.

His need and desire for her took over, his thrusts growing wilder with each passing second, her name falling from his lips in a litany.

She gasped his, her voice becoming strangled as he hit her clit over and over.

“Oh, oh… oh god, Oliver, don’t stop, don’t… oh…!”

He felt her stiffen underneath him, every inch of her clinging to him as he thrust into her, his voice cracking as he whispered for her to come, to please come, come for him…

And with a soundless scream, Felicity did. She flew apart at the seams with a series of ragged shouts, her silken walls pulsing around him with so much force he cried out.

It was gorgeous, absolute heaven to his ears hearing her falling to pieces in his arms… and it was the final straw.

Oliver gripped her tight, burying himself in her. He dug his face in her throat, grunting as his hips moved faster, pounding into her, seeking his own release. It was close, so close, and he heard her whispering his name in blissful whines, her face pressing to the side of his head, her lips finding his ear.

The pressure built, coiling tighter, tighter…

“Felicity, Felicity… Felicity!”

White sheeted over his eyes.

Oliver came hard, his orgasm ripping through him, heat razing his nerves. He didn’t hear the desperate cries he let out as his hips thrust wildly into her, riding the pleasure she gave him, spilling into the condom. Her inner walls spasmed around him, milking him for more, and he kept moving, over and over, losing himself in her until he was completely spent.

His gasps of her name filled the room, his mind filled with only her as he buried himself in her as deep as he possibly could before he finally fell still.

Pleasure radiated through him.

Satisfaction suffused every inch.

They didn’t move for a long time, save for Oliver shifting his weight to his elbows so he wasn’t crushing her. Even then she wrapped herself around him, unwilling to let him go. It filled him with so much joy he could barely breathe. He didn’t want to move. He never wanted to move, not ever again.

So much had changed in the space of twenty-four hours.

The rest of his life.

He wanted to talk about it, he wanted to tell her how much wonder it filled him with, how grateful he was she gave him another chance, that she trusted him with not only with that, but her, her heart and body and soul… And he would, but later. Because right now he just wanted to hold her, and fall asleep with her in his arms.

Felicity pressed soft lingering kisses to his face. His heart soared as he leaned into her lips, nuzzling her until his mouth found hers.

They didn’t speak, because they didn’t have to.

Oliver pulled out of her, whispering, “I’ll be right back,” before climbing off the bed.

His legs were shaky as he made his way to the bathroom, peeling the used condom off. He was spent, and he was only in there long enough to toss it away and wipe himself clean with a washcloth from the closet. He thought about bringing one back for Felicity, but the shuffle of feet behind him answered that.

The bathroom light was off, leaving her silhouetted in the lamplight from his room. She’d grabbed his shirt again and it was draped over her, only her fingers keeping it together between her breasts. Her hair was a wild halo around her head, from his hands and from making love. There was enough light for him to see she was biting her lip as she leaned against the doorjamb, her eyes taking their fill of him.

“Hi,” Oliver whispered, a little shyly.

Felicity smiled, ducking her head with a small grin. “Hi.” She waved at the bathroom. “I was just gonna clean up a little bit.”

“Right.”

Oliver tossed the cloth away and closed the few feet separating them, painfully aware of his nakedness, but not in a bad way. He was just aware of it, of how intimate it was to be with her like this, especially the closer he got. He thought about stepping aside, letting her in and then going back to bed. But then he thought about kissing her, about pushing his hands underneath her shirt before he was back to thinking he should let her be. He had no idea where the sudden rash of indecision was coming from, but it all evaporated when she reached for him.

Felicity let the ends of the shirt go, and he caught a glimpse of the edges of her naked breasts and her wet sex before she pushed up onto her toes to kiss him.

It was soft, sweet, and so gentle, a loving follow-up to what they’d just shared.

He wrapped his arms around her, sighing when her naked body pressed against his, their mouths opening just enough to taste each other.

With a hum, Felicity pulled back with a smile.

Oliver kissed her once more before he let her go. He made his way back to the bed as she closed the door, going about her business. He didn’t bother with his boxers as he pulled the comforter back and climbed in - on his side - and with a sigh, let himself sink in.

He doubled up his pillow, trying not to listen to every single move she made in the bathroom. But he also couldn’t help himself. Some part of him had once wondered, at the very beginning, if he ever slept with Felicity if that’d get her out of his system. He snorted. It was the exact fucking opposite. He was positively starved for her, from everything to her touch and kisses to wondering what her bathroom routine was. He wanted to discover everything he could about Felicity Smoak, absolutely everything.

The door opened, pulling Oliver from his thoughts.

He watched her walk back to the bed. She was still in his shirt, and it was still unbuttoned, letting him catch glimpses of her. She paused to ask, “Should I turn the light off?”

“No,” Oliver whispered. “Leave it on.”

He wanted to see her, for as long as he could. He gestured her back to the bed, flipping open the comforter for her.

A small smile lit her face at the gesture and she walked around to her side, slipping his shirt off, leaving it to land in a messy pile on the floor. He watched her every move as she climbed into bed with him, joining him under the comforter, mesmerized by everything - absolutely fucking everything, it was amazing - as he drank her in.

The second she was within reach he pulled her close, tucking the comforter in around her. She giggled when his movements tickled her, but all he did was smile because it meant she just scooted closer to him. She pressed her back to his chest, her backside settling against him just right, and Oliver curled around her, digging his face into her throat, making her giggle again as she wound her arms around his.

Silence settled over them.

As sleep started making Oliver’s limbs heavy, his eyes slipping shut, he felt like he was floating. In happiness. In awe, amazement, wonder…

He cuddled her closer, settling in with a sigh.

“Oliver?”

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice thick with impending rest, his arms tightening around her.

“Thank you.”

That woke him up.

Oliver furrowed his brow, his mind racing through his sluggish thoughts to understand why in the world she would be thanking him.

“For what?” he whispered.

She shifted, turning just enough so she could look back at him. Felicity stared at him, and the earnestness in her eyes made his heart feel about twenty times bigger.

“For not being that guy,” she replied. Felicity reached back to drag her fingertips down the side of his face. “For being the guy I thought you were when we first met.”

Oliver could only stare at her. He tried to form the words, any words, but nothing came up, because that… that was huge.

He started speaking, just needing her to know how much that meant to him, saying the first thing that came to mind.

“You make me want to be a better person,” he said. He heard the words as they were coming out, and he huffed out a small chuckle at him, shaking his head. “That’s something everyone says, isn’t it, but… but I… I want to deserve you, Felicity.”

A thin sheen of tears filled her eyes, and she blinked rapidly. He scooted closer, wanting to soak up any reason she might have to cry ever, but then she smiled. “You do, Oliver,” she replied. “You do.” He believed her. God, he believed her and he vowed that he would be. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was tired or because he’d finally made love to her, but there wasn’t an ounce of hesitation anymore. “You’re doing it again,” Felicity whispered.

“Doing what?”

“Saying the right words to make my heart do the thing.” She tapped her finger to his nose, bopping him, trying to lighten the mood as she added, “You gotta take care of this thing, mister.”

Oliver wasn’t sure if those exact words were her intention, but he didn’t care, taking them at face value either way.

“I will,” he replied. “Always.”

“There you go,” she said, her voice betraying how hard his words hit her, “doing it again, making me…”

Oliver swooped in before she could finish, his lips covering hers, sealing the unspoken promise. The way they laid kept them from deepening, but it was more than enough.

He finally pulled back, but not without a couple more lingering kisses.

Neither of them spoke, staring into each other’s eyes before they curled around each other again.

Oliver scooted down until his knees fit perfectly behind hers, his arms wrapped around her. She cradled them to her chest, lacing their fingers together, dropping a kiss to his wrist. He pressed his lips to her shoulder blade.

“Goodnight,” she whispered.

Oliver smiled, kissing her shoulder again. “Goodnight.”

He fell asleep first, to the sensation of her thumb rubbing against the back of his knuckles, her lips brushing his wrist, her light breaths lulling him to sleep…

It didn’t last long.

Oliver woke a few hours later, and used his kisses and the strokes of his hand down the side of her body to rouse her. With a sleepy moan, Felicity responded, turning in his arms, her lips finding his. It wasn’t long before she was pushing him on his back and climbing on top, straddling him. She remembered the condom this time, she reached into the nightstand to find one, ripping it open and putting it on before she gripped him, guiding him to her entrance. Lingering exhaustion quickly dragged them down, making their movements rushed and uneven, but they quickly found their rhythm, their bodies taking over as she rode him. Felicity fell against his chest and they wrapped themselves around each other. Oliver lifted his knees, using the leverage to thrust up into her as she ground down on him, his face buried in her hair, hers against his neck. Her cries were louder than before, losing herself in her pleasure, and they echoed through the room as she fell to pieces, urging him to follow barely a second later.

They fell asleep again.

Several alarms on her phone going off in rapid succession roused them an hour after that.

After a lot of grumbling and cursing, Felicity got up, whispering, “I have to leave soon if I’m gonna make it back in time for class.”

Oliver gave her a bleary nod and a sloppy kiss, not letting go of her hand until he absolutely had to.

He managed to open his eyes, watching her walk away.

One look at her swaying ass and he was up, following her into the shower. It lasted way longer than it should have, but when Oliver tried to get her back on track after teasing her - which wasn’t easy, especially when he saw the very large hickey he’d left on her breast - but it was Felicity who said she didn’t care, dropping to her knees, taking him into her mouth. Oliver came with a sharp shout, his head hitting the tiled wall with a loud thud, his fingers tangling in her wet hair as she took every last drop. He returned the favor, throwing one of her legs over his shoulder, pushing her up against the same wall, devouring her until she nearly pulled all his hair out as she came.

Her taste and the sounds she made as he pleasured her made him hard again, but he managed to keep his hands to himself as they both cleaned up. But then she walked back into his room and he caught her dropping the towel from around her body, using it to dry her hair. The motion made her entire body wiggle in delicious ways and before he could think twice he was grabbing her, hauling her back onto the bed where he made love to her one more time.

By the time they’d gotten dressed - she was wearing his shirt again, saying she needed to stop at her apartment and change anyway - and brushed their teeth - including her teasing him about where he’d put her toothbrush next to his the night before - the sun was rising, coloring the sky with a myriad of dusky pinks and burnt oranges.

She had a momentary panic attack when she forgot where her glasses were, but it quickly abated when they found them downstairs where she’d left them last night, sitting haphazardly on the table next to the couch.

Oliver left with her, even though his first class wasn’t until eleven that morning. He locked the house up, making a mental note to come back out this weekend and clean up some more before the monthly cleaning, and then he laced his fingers with hers, walking her out to where her Mini was parked next to his. He tugged her into his side as they walked, kissing her temple. She leaned into him, her damp hair tickling his nose, her hand finding his heart.

He waited to make sure her car started, and when it did, he laughed at the delighted squeak she let out, her fist flying into the air with a mini-victory dance.

She was the cutest fucking thing in the entire world.

And she was his, just as much as he was hers.

Oliver was so fucking happy he could dance himself.

“Hey,” he said, pulling her up out of the car for a moment. Felicity stepped out, instantly stepping into his arms. He smiled, leaning down to capture her lips for a second. Just because he wanted to. Because he could. Oliver leaned his forehead against hers, swaying, like he really was dancing. She gladly went along. “What are you doing tonight?” he asked.

“I have a two-hour lecture that doesn’t start until five,” she replied. “So I’ll be probably sitting in my car after that, staring straight ahead, trying to remember how to use my brain because my professor’s voice is very drone-like.”

Oliver chuckled, smoothing his hands up her sides and over her back before going down again, finding her hips. “Would you like to have dinner with me when you’re done?”

“Dinner? Like a date? A date-date?”

“Well…” Oliver’s brain faltered, because… Well, he thought it was sort of assumed that that was what it would be and for a split second, he forgot how to speak as he said, “Sure, yeah, I mean… the implication being with dinner that you… that we…” He huffed in exasperation and she grinned, her lips already forming the words, ‘Sentence fragments,’ with far too much amusement. He nodded with his own smile, saying it for her. “Sentence fragments, I know. It’s your damn fault, you know. You make me flustered.”

“I like that I make you flustered,” she whispered.

“You do a very good job of it,” he said. She giggled and he took a deep breath, the words ready this time. “Would you like to go to dinner with me tonight?”

“Yes,” Felicity replied immediately, nodding with a happy grin. “I would love to.” She cupped his face. “I wanna be yours, remember?”

“Yes,” Oliver breathed. The words were as close to what he felt as anything, and they settled inside him, filling him with warmth. He pressed his forehead to hers. “And I wanna be yours.”

They sealed it with a kiss. 

*

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!!

Reviews literally feed the soul and muse.

Next up is the Epilogue! I've been planning this ending since I decided to continue this 'verse almost two years ago, I'm excited to share it with you guys. 

Final update will be on Saturday!

[mydreamcatcherblogme]

The Great Hunt [or where to look for ideas]

      I've been struggling with this post (and writing in general) for quite some time and I finally got around to saying to myself 'Sit your ass down and get it written.' Well, that worked better than expected :D     It turns out that the most common reason for not being able to write – which applies to me and many, many others – is the lack of ideas or inspiration. Some have a hard time starting their story, others write themselves in the corner, others write without a problem but struggle with making the story come to life.

    The trick is to find something that makes you fall in love with that story so bad that you wish to push on no matter what. Maybe you find the perfect drawing/picture for your MC. Maybe you think of a mind-blowing plot twist or why not a whole language or species? Or maybe you just need to find something to get the cogs turning so you can get out of the hole you dug yourself into.    Everybody has their own thing - something that always inspires them, something that puts them in the mood for writing. If you're lucky, you have learned consistency and you can sit down and write every day, with or without inspiration. If you're like me, well then, you'll need a bit more to get started.   Here are the top ten things that help me get my head in the story: 1. Change of scenery   This one has always worked for me. I usually write at home, comfortably sitting on the sofa or in front of the kitchen table – with all the free time in the world. But nothing comes.    So I decided to try and write somewhere else.    This is a bit tricky because you can’t just bring your laptop everywhere and you can’t stay there for hours. You need

electricity (even if your laptop’s battery is awesome), you will probably need some food and drinks. So you have to find a cafe like Starbucks or Costa or even your local cafe if they will let you write there.    I found my writing den at Costa Cafe which is on the main street in the center of my city. You can sit in the back and have some privacy while you work. Or you can sit by the front window and watch people or enjoy the sun while writing your next chapter. Every time I go there I end up with twice as many pages in twice as little time. I definitely recommend. 2. Reading Books     I used to fool myself that I mustn’t read books in my genre since I didn’t want to unconsciously steal ideas and I wanted to develop my own voice. This is the worse disservice you can do to yourself.   Writers need to read. This is the only rule you can’t break. You don’t read to become like the other authors, you read to understand what works and what

doesn’t; how the pace makes or breaks a story; how to develop characters organically so they make sense and your readers love them. And last but not least — you read to be entertained.    From time to time you need to take off your writer’s pants and snuggle in your reader’s pajamas. You’ll be surprised how easily your imagination will come to life when you get lost into a new world. Yes, maybe you’ll find scenes and ideas so awesome you would want to put them in your book. And maybe you can use some of them for your story — it’s impossible to write a completely original book. Everything you can think of has already been thought of and told in some form. The point is not to come with a completely new idea but to make old ideas sound new again.  3. Watch a Movie/TV Show     I know this comes dangerously close to procrastination but it’s not when you don’t overdo it. And if nothing else helps, you have to find something to inspire you again…   What I personally do when I’m stuck is re-watch movies that previously inspired me (and that I liked enough to

watch more than once) or find new TV shows with an interesting storyline, particularly in the genre I’m writing in. You’ll be surprised how many twists and plot ideas you can get from there. And it’s okay to use those but be sure to make them your own and most importantly – be sure that they fit your characters and your story. Don’t do it for the big reveal or flashy moments. Do it because it’s the most natural progression or because it is something your character needs to do to evolve. 4. Looking at Pictures/Drawings     Visual stimulation is my greatest inspiration. For me, it may be anything — a person I meet on the street, an unusual sight, a picture, a drawing or a sculpture. Any kind of art usually gets my creative juices going as long as my weird mind connects it in some way to a story.    Often, when I go out to write I sit by the street window in the cafe and spend some time watching people. Their

interactions, facial expressions and even movements help me write realistic characters.    The next thing I turn to are sites like Pinterest and Tumblr or even Google itself. I’ve spent hours and hours on them looking at pictures, ideas and portraits for my characters so I can easily describe them in a way that will make them even more vivid for the reader. Sometimes, I browse through them for new ideas. Most of my plots have begun with a picture of a character, place or even an object. My mind needs little to get started and once it gets it on with the writing we go.  5. Find the Perfect Beat       Most of us have playlists made for a particular story. I know I do. And when I write on this story I put on that playlist and in 99% of the time, it gets me

in the right mind frame.     The trouble is that eventually those songs are going to become annoying or lose their power and then you’ll need something new. So I recommend spending some time on YouTube or Spotify just browsing through songs you’ve never listened to before. Start with a song you like or one that relates to your story in some way. YouTube will give you suggestions – check them out. Save the ones you like, skip the ones you don’t. (Damn I just sounded like the lady from the Spotify commercial). Even if a song doesn’t go well with the current story save it in another playlist. You’ll eventually finish this story and you’ll need inspiration for another one. Recycle your inspiration as much as you can — you’ll be surprised by the results. 6. Finding a Writing Buddy     Finding a writing buddy is a great idea. First, because you’ll get support and encouragement when you need them and second because you’ll feel accountable and you’ll try harder to put in the work.   The best option would be to find somebody from your city and write

together in person. After the initial excitement and getting used to one another, you’ll be able to spend hours not talking and just working on your books without being weird. If you can’t find somebody close by then find somebody online.    This person doesn’t have to be somebody that has read your work. But it is advisable to be a writer so they understand the whole process and can help with brainstorming if you hit a wall. And most importantly, they must be at least as committed as you are because there is nothing worse than you being excited and inspired to write and them talking nonstop and distracting you. 7. Going back to basics     Sometimes nothing helps getting you to write. Not your favorite music, not your favorite writing spot or a collage of your character’s portraits. I know the feeling — it’s the worst.   What I do when I hit such a roadblock is to get rid of everything that can distract me. Bye to my laptop, bye to my home where I can find a hundred things to do, bye to conversation or phone. I grab a notebook and two pens and I get out. The only thing I allow myself is some music — provided you have your social media muted or you listen to it offline. Minimize

your distractions.   At first writing by hand would be painfully slow. You may even just stare at the blank page and not write anything for a while. That’s okay. Let your mind go places, let it get bored. Because what do you do when you’re bored and you have nothing to distract yourself with? You think. And if you’re a writer as you claim then the first thing you’ll think about is your book. Maybe you’ll think about your favorite scene, or maybe about some plothole you noticed when re-reading, or maybe you’ll think of a cool new scene. Once you get there, let your hand do its thing and keep your mind wandering. 8. Talk to your characters     When I say talk to your characters I mean literally. I have a series called ‘Remnants’ and the second book is titled ‘Remnants of Souls’. I had some hard time writing it, for some reason it wasn’t moving forward properly, and I realized it was because I didn’t understand and see eye to eye with some of my characters.   So I put the book aside and wrote down a few interviews with the main

characters. You treat them like real people – if you’ve done your job right they will be just real enough – and you ask them the questions you don’t have the answers to; or even ones that you think you know. Then you let your inner schizophrenic out and answer from their point of view. It’s not only fun but it is a tremendously enlightening. Not to mention that you can later use those ‘interviews’ as extras for your followers when you publish that book.   You can try writing scenes with them that have no place in your book — something from their past or future; a dream or even something from a parallel universe. The idea is to understand what kind of person they are, how they react, why they do what they do and think the way they think. Once you know them well enough you’ll have no trouble finding ways to motivate them. 9. Brainstorm that idea     Getting stuck on a scene or a concept is something every writer runs into at least once a book. If you’re like me, you’ll run into that wall every few chapters. It’s not that I am such bad at planning (at least I hope) but I am constantly thinking of new cool ways the story can go: new scenes to add; new characters to create. And sometimes those ideas are conflicting hence putting me in the tight spot.     Brainstorming can happen in two ways. The first way, and the one I usually

choose because I prefer working alone, is to write a full plan for your story. I know that for you pantsers this is not an option but I am a planner so…    You can always change things along the way but the idea is to write the whole plotline, develop it and find a proper ending. Then you can see if the changes you have in mind can work without changing absolutely everything. If you’re not ready to commit to a plot you can write each scene on a post-it note or a card and just line them up and re-arrange them until you’re happy with the outcome.   The other option is to use a friend or another writer to brainstorm. The good thing with this is that they will bring a new, fresh perspective and that can spring ideas within you which can resolve your problems. The bad thing is that they have a different way of thinking than you and the ideas they give you may be confusing or completely inadequate for your vision of the story. So be careful when you pick your buddy for brainstorming. 10. Re-reading your story     I bet every book about writing you’ve read told you never to re-read or edit your work until you’re finished. This is absolutely true if you can manage it — it’s hard to finish something when you keep going back.   But if you put the editing aside sometimes you have no other options but to go back and re-read. Why, you ask?   First, because you’ll get excited anew for the story. When you began writing it you had an idea, you had vigor and you probably spent a few long, sleepless nights imagining the whole story, the

characters, the landscapes. Re-reading it will take you back to that state of mind.    Second, if you had spent a long time away from the story you are bound to have forgotten some small details from it which were hints or turning points for scenes to come. Once you read them your mind will connect the dots again and you’ll be able to pick it up from where you left it.   Third, you can think of new ways to continue the story. If you have spent some time away from it and you come back you look at it with new eyes. You may have forgotten some of your ideas, you may not like some of the scenes or the characters and you may also decide to take it in an entirely different direction. That’s all great as long as it gets you writing.    How do you find your inspiration? Do you have any tricks for getting back into writing mode once you've been out of it for a while? I'd love to hear your stories and suggestions as well.Yours truly,Joana Read the full article

[sethraziel]

See the Moon Rising

This story was related to me by a veteran of the Second World War. Names have been changed for legal reasons but the story I'm about to present is, at least to the man telling me this, accurate and true.

I met him in a retirement home for vets as part of a community service order. I was to go and help out anyway I could to work off the two hundred hours I was supposed to complete. I met him about forty hours into my service. The lady who worked there asked me to keep him company as his best friend from the war had passed on two weeks prior and he was keeping to himself. She thought since I was liked around the place by the others he might take a liking to me and open up a bit. I agreed and went over to him.

For the first two hours or so I tried to get him to talk but he just sat there looking out the window, like he was lost in thought. I talked about different things, but he just didn't seem to care. I asked him about the war, and he just kept looking out that window. I was going to give up when I decided to try one last thing. I told him my grandfather was also a veteran, but he fought in Korea. He seemed to stir at this and I kept going. Told him he was wounded trying to take a hill he was ordered to capture. A medic saved his life. After that he was shipped back home and swore off war. The old vet looked at me and gave me a slight smile. Then he spoke.

"Your granddad was a smart man. I swore off war when I finally got home. But I'm going to let you in on something. You can swear off war, but you never really let it go."

We then talked all the time after that. He told me of those days back then and how much time had changed. He talked about women he loved and lost, the struggles and benefits of a post war life, what it was like during the Cold War, etc. One thing I noticed was his reluctance to talk about the war itself he fought in. I mentioned it a couple of times, but he always said maybe one day. This went on till my last week of community service. The final day we sat down as usual in his favorite spot by the window. He told me he was sad I would be going and that he enjoyed his time talking with me. Then he said he wanted to tell one last story before I left. He had never told anyone outside who was there that day this story. Not even his late wife. He said whether I believed it or not was up to me. I was interested and listened up. He took a drink from his mug, cleared his throat, and started to spin me his tale.

I was part of the landing team that hit Omaha beach that fateful day in June. The Airborne guys took off first ahead of us earlier and landed in the early hours that morning. The ship ride over was tense. Feelings all around were of fear and anxiousness. But we were a proud bunch, and we weren't going to let something like death get in our way. At least that's what we told ourselves. That morning the first wave of men hit the beach. It was an intense situation. I was part of the third wave that assaulted the beach. By then we were starting to gain a foothold and start our way into the bluffs themselves. The fighting had been raging on for a few hours by that point. I made my way to the other troops at the sand wall that separated us from them. We eventually broke through and took the bluffs, then were ordered inland to make a perimeter to repeal any counter attack the krouts might throw at us to retake the bluffs. Half the day in and we had established a beachhead.

I was lucky to survive that day. It was also my first time killing another human being. Wouldn't be my last. I stayed on that beach for the next week. During that time I was sent on small patrols to make sure Fritz wasn't sneaking up on us. On the fourteenth day I was summoned by a Captain to be part of a nine man team to go check out an abandoned cemetery reported to have enemy activity. Locals that were fleeing the area had reported seeing a small German squad holed up at a cemetery about nine miles west of our beachhead. The cemetery was just that: a cemetery out in the middle of nowhere. There was no sounding village within miles of that cemetery. The Captains orders were to go and clear out that squad. He then assembled a team. Besides myself and the Captain, there was Johnny Toudur, a rifleman, Rizzo Caprice, a rifleman, Donald Watlick, our radioman, Michael Espinoza, our BAR man, Eugene Cardinal, a rifleman, Tony LaRuche, a rifleman, and last was Rene LaDupre, a rifleman. This made up our nazi hunting squad.

Toudur and Cardinal were from Tennessee, living in the same small town. Caprice, LaRuche and Espinoza all trained together in bootcamp and all ended up in the same company, same unit, and now the same squad. Watlick was pulled to serve as our radioman. He also spoke French and German. None of us had known him before then. The Captains origins were a mystery to us all. And then there was the Cajun, a one Rene LaDupre. He was the most queer out of us all. He and I were in the same Higgins when we landed. We both took out a machine gun team and were together when we held a line from a possible German reinforcement. He was, all in all, a good soldier.

We were to only take weapons and ammo. Anything that we didn't need was left. We were to be light as the Captain, whose name was Howard Wright, wanted to attack quick and swift. We were to set out just before dawn and use the cover of darkness. At least that was the plan. There was a full moon out that night, so we tried to stick to the shadows as much as possible. We were to reach our destination in around a few hours, but had pauses along the way. Sometimes we thought we heard movement, most of the time it being a sheep or cow. About an hour in and Johnny started speaking first.

"The moon makes things look eerie out here," he said.

"What's the matter Johnny? Spooked?" Michael chimed in.

"Not really. Well," Johnny started before he paused. I could tell he looked a little nervous in the moons glow. "Y'all remember that movie where that man turns into a wolf?"

"Yes I do," Rene answered. "What about it?"

"Well, that movie scared me a bit. I was sixteen when I saw it, and it has stuck with me. When the moons full, I get spooked a bit." Everyone but the Captain laughed at that.

"So let me get this straight," I said, "you have no fear of a man with a rifle trying to kill you, but have a fear of a made up movie monster?"

"No, that's not it," Johnny said in reply. "I don't want to die. Hell, dying out here scares me greatly. It's just, you know, that movie spooked me. That's all."

"That monster isn't made up," Rene said. "It's a real thing. At least where I'm from." A awkward silence fell on us.

"What do you mean?" Johnny finally said.

"My mama used to tell us stories about them growing up," Rene replied. "She used to tell us not to wander too far in the woods or near the swamps or the loo garoo would get us."

"What's a loo garoo?" Johnny asked.

"Its the creole word for werewolf. It's a man that can transform into a wolf. A wolf man if you will. Mama used to tell us about her encounters with a few growing up herself. And it's not like in the movie. They don’t turn just because the moon is full. Though it does influence them a lot more to come during that time. No, mama said they can turn whenever. Those that are more attuned to it can control when and where they become one. But it can also trigger during extreme distress."

"Like what kind of distress?" I butted in, completely drawn into Renes story.

"Well, mama said one time when she was a young woman she was coming back home from her cousin who lived on the same street as her. As she was crossing the road near where it turns down her lonely dirt road she heard a couple men arguing. The sun hadn't gone down all the way and she it was still bright enough to see. She said she saw the two men yelling about something when one of them pulled out a knife. The other man started to run from him yelling not to do it. The man with the knife proceeded to chase him. He tackled the man not too far and proceeded to stab him. The man fell, writhing in pain. The other man started to walk away from him when all of a sudden the man on the ground started turning into this beast. The other man ran into the surrounding woods as the beast man got up and sniffed the air. It howled something fierce before turning to look at mama, then it ran into the woods in chase of the man."

"Bullshit!" chimed in Tony. "That's a lie if I ever heard one."

"Mama don't lie!" Rene said in defense. "She has never lied to us. Besides, if you lived where I do you would be inclined to start believing in some of the things that go on out there. They got the voodoo out there. Witchcraft, vampires, ghosts, and things that will give you the heebee jeebees."

"Quiet!" the Captain ordered. "Keep your eyes peeled."

We walked on in silence until we reached the outer perimeter of the cemetery. In the moonlight we could see the old chapel like structure. There were no lights on or any sound coming from the cemetery. Headstones lined the way up. Motioning us to take a defensive position we found points of fire and waited. Captain wanted to see if the enemy was still around. After about twenty minutes of listening and watching, the Captain decided to send someone up to check it out. I was volunteered. I was already on the side of the road the cemetery was on and quickly made my way to the first headstone. Peeking over, I saw rows of gravestones and not much else. Slowly, I made my way through the forest of stones, keeping a desperate ear out for sounds of anything. After a bit I was close enough to the church house to notice nothing was there. As I crossed the open field towards the church house I noticed one of the graves had been dug up. A big hole was where there should have been dirt. I kept on moving till I reached the church. From what I could see in the moonlight it was small. There was the wide open door leading in. On either side of the door were windows. Peeking in I saw moonlight coming in. There was a hole in the roof. Besides a few broken chairs and debris from the roof the church was completely empty. The back of the church had a single window at the center. I could tell the windows still had glass. Checking around the church I noticed nothing. On the other side was forest. I went back a ways and motioned to others it was safe. I waited by the first set of headstones as the others came up.

Everyone came rushing up to the church house as the Captain asked for a report. Several of the boys were looking in the church while the others were looking out into the cemetery. Rene walked over to the dug up grave and started to kick some dirt in it.

"What happened here?" he said.

"Dunno," I replied. "Was like that when I walked up here. Whatever they was doing they seemed to have left in a hurry." As I watched him kicked some more dirt in he looked up at the sky.

"Pretty, isn't it?" he asked. "See the moon rising..."

Before he could finish shots started ringing out. I saw Rene get hit twice and fall into the open grave. We all took cover and started shooting back. Muzzle flash was coming from the tree line. We started hearing German voices and the Captain quickly started issuing orders. A grenade went off somewhere and we all took cover. Captain ordered us into the church house and take up defensive positions. As we all ran inside the Germans were yelling out something and the muzzle flash started to get closer to us. Bullets and broken glass were raining on us. Eugene and Donald tossed a couple of grenades out the front windows as Michael and myself got the front doors shut. We put a few of the broken chairs in front of it to hinder the enemy trying to enter in that way. We were all panicking as the barrage of bullets were seeming to overwhelm us.

The first screams came right outside the door. The German soldiers that were outside the church door started screaming and shooting at something outside. That was quickly followed by the other Germans shooting at something that wasn't us. Soon we heard yelling and screaming as gun fire was being shot all around us. We all looked at each other with frightened confused looks on our faces. The shooting suddenly stopped as did the screams and shouting. We listened for a few seconds for any sort of noise or sign that someone was still out there. A body jumped through the window as we all reacted and pointed our weapons at it. It was a German soldier. He was bloody and looked like he was attacked by something. The captain quickly went over to him and picked him up by his collar to his feet.

"What's going on damn it!" he yelled at the German. The Soldier looked visibly frightened and was shaking. Captain yelled the same words again at the boy. "Watlick, get over here. Tudor and Caprice, watch those windows, Cardinal, watch that back window." Donald went over to the Captain. "Ask this piece of shit what the fuck they were shooting at out there," Captain ordered. Donald told the man in German. The soldier looked at Watlick and said only one word.

"Wolfsbestie."

"What the fuck did he say?" Captain demanded. Donald turned to him with a confused expression.

"He said wolf beast."

"Wolf beast?" Captain said in a confused tone.

"Fuck!" Johnny exclaimed. "Did he just say wolf..." He didn't get to finish his sentence as something grabbed him and tried to pull him out the window. He screamed, holding onto the window beam as we rushed to help him. Something had a hold of Johnny’s legs as we tried to pull him back in. He was begging us not to let him go as his grip was slowly being pulled away from the beam. I went to the side of the window and stuck my rifle out. Something grabbed a hold of it, trying to pull it out. I reached for my pistol and fired blindly outside. Nothing happened. I then peeked out. Looking back at me were two orange eyes inside the head of what I can only describe as a huge wolf. Its teeth I remember were stained in blood as was its mouth. I let go of the rifle and jumped back in horror, yelling what the fuck was that thing. In one swift pull, poor Johnny was yanked out the window, his screams now blood curdling. Everyone backed away from the windows. Johnny continued to scream for a few seconds more before it abruptly stopped.

We all stared at the windows before the Captain shouted "fuck, the prisoner." We all turned, expecting not to see him there. Instead, not only was he there, in a corner, but he was shaking profusly and crying. He was, for lack of a better phrase, scared shitless. Tony goes over to secure him as the rest of us take up defensive positions. We are staring at the windows now. Michael sets his BAR up pointing to the back window. Myself and Eugene each have our rifles pointed at a front window. Donald has his pointed at the door. Rizzo and the Captain are at the center of the room.

"Watlick, where's the radio," Captain calls out.

"Sorry sir, I dropped it during the gunfight outside," he said.

"Son of a bitch Watlick. Do you know where?"

"Not far from the door here sir," he replied. We all tensed up as we knew what was coming next.

"Someone has to go out there and get it," Captain said. Audible fucks were said as we did not want to venture out of the church. As it turned out, we didn't have to. The radio came flying through the window, destroyed. A loud howl rang out. The thing bashed into the door that we had reinforced with debris from the church. Donald backed up a bit before firing a couple shots through the door.

We heard it run around the church. Michael started firing a few rounds while cursing. Eugene and myself started firing as it ran past the windows. It again bashed into the door. The door gave way a bit. Rizzo and Donald ran to it and tried to reinforce it again. Once again the beast bashed into it, pushing it a little further open. I ran over to help them. Together, we managed to get it to pushed closed before it bashed into it again. Tony ran over to the window and started firing in that direction before retreating from it. A growl was heard from the door and it started to run around the church again. We all took our positions again, waiting for it to attack again. Michael again lets off a few rounds as it passes his window.

Then, it got quiet. It didn't last long. But during that very brief moment I was really on edge. Tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Johnny’s body came flying in through the window. He fell a couple of feet from me. Rizzo ran and dragged him to the center of the room. He checked him for signs of life.

"He's still breathing yous guys," he said. Captain knelt down and checked on him.

"He's messed up pretty good," he said to no one in particular. "The son of a bitch out there cut him real bad. We need to get him back to HQ or he ain't going to make it." For the rest of the night the beast would bash the door and then run around the church.

I noticed it first that dawn was approaching. I let everyone know and we all just stared at the window. The beast was right there in front of it. We all saw it. Its matted blood soaked fur. Orange glowing eyes. Bare stained teeth. It let out this most awful howl before retreating. We heard it scream as if it were in pain before it fell silent. No one moved. We all had our ears on high alert, listening for any sound. None came.

I was volunteered to go check outside once the sun was out and shining. I did it hesitantly. Rizzo and Tony removed the debris from the door as Eugene secured the prisoner. Once the debris was removed I gave the signal to open the door. As soon as it opened I ran out, not knowing what to expect. What I saw was sure not expected. Blood, guts, and body parts scattered the front of the church as well as the cemetery. It was carnage that I'd only seen on the beach. That thing tore apart every German soldier out there that night. As I was comprehending what it was I was looking at I heard the rumbling of a tank approaching. I ran back into the church and let the Captain know. We all took up defensive positions, not knowing if they were friendly or the enemy. I had never felt so happy when a Sherman came into view. We all stood up as our boys came into the cemetery, setting up a defensive perimeter. Captain went up to his superior as the rest of us walked over to the Sherman. A few rows of jeeps lined up behind it.

"You boys had a hell of a night," some private said as he walked by us. We all were tired and frankly just wanted to get the hell away from here. Johnny was carried out on a stretcher onto one of the jeeps. The prisoner was brought out as well.

"We have a live one here," someone called out. We made our way over to the commotion when , to our surprise, Rene was brought out of the grave he had fallen into when he was shot. I noticed right off the bat that his clothes were in tatters. He was barley clothed. It looked like he was attacked as well. But he had no scratches nor any marks. On top of that, he looked like he hadn't been shot at all. There were no bullet wounds which I could see. Everyone else walked back to the Sherman but I stayed. I was trying to rationalize what I was seeing. As Rene was being carried away past me he opened his eyes, looking at me. He smiled and winked.

That was the story he told me as I remember it. He stated no one else knows what went down that night besides his squad that night. He doesn't know what went into the official report that his Captain made. He said I could take it or leave it as it was, but that is what he remembers of that night. We talked a bit more before I said goodbye to him for the last time. He wished me well and I went about my way. He passed away not long after. Makes you wonder just what the hell is really out there in this increasingly small world we have. I know one thing though. I will not be going near, around or directly to any place in Louisiana anytime soon.