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#and. of course. it's dreamlike in its slowness as well. the kids like that these days right? i see slowed versions of songs all over
corpsedaydream · 3 years
Text
dreamlike
just sleepy/comfy vibes
lmk what u think
word count: 1.4k
_______________________________
dreamlike
You were fighting sleep and it was beginning to show. Your eyes had become glassy, you couldn’t go two minutes without yawning, your words were starting to slow, you’d gone from sitting up on the couch to slowly slouching down until you were laying down and you’d just dropped your phone on your face for the second time.
“Ow.” You whined out. And after rubbing over your face, your tired eyes found your boyfriends eyes looking back at you from his spot on the couch.
“Just go to sleep, baby, you’re so tired.” Corpse spoke as his hand rubbed over your leg that was draped over his lap. He’d told you about his plans for a 3am stream and you offered to be by his side in case he became anxious in the earliest hours of the morning, he was looking forward to you being with him for it until he saw how badly you were struggling to stay awake. Usually you were a bit of a night owl - perhaps not to the same extent as your boyfriend - but this morning you’d had to wake up extra early and it really messed with your plan to stay awake with Corpse.
“I’m okay.”
“You know you’ll wind up with a headache if you force yourself to stay awake.”
“I’m fine, I’m watching my show, it’ll keep me awake.”
“Tell me what’s happened in the last five minutes.” He was testing you because he knew damn well that when you watched anything half asleep, you weren’t ever paying enough attention. You had a habit of forcing yourself to stay awake for the last episode or two of a season when you were doing a binge watch of something, only to find yourself rewatching them the next day anyway, because you couldn’t really remember what happened with a sleepy mind.
“Well,” You looked at the television to look for some kind of clue, only to find that it had been paused. “It’s paused.”
“You didn’t even notice I paused it?”
“No...well, I mean, I did now.”
“(Y/N),” Corpse sighed, and he reached his other hand out to your face to hold your face gently around your jaw, turning your head back to face his. “Let me take you to bed, you need some sleep.”
“I’ll be okay.”
“I know you will be, but you’ll be a lot better not being exhausted.”
You knew what he was saying was right but it was already 1:30am, you kept telling yourself you could make another hour and a half for his stream to start. “I told you I’d stay awake with you.”
“You don’t have to worry about me.”
“But I do.”
“I know, and I worry about you, too, which is why I want you to be sleeping right now.” Corpse ended the brief back and forth. But you didn’t really have it in you to argue seeing as though you really were tired. It had been a pretty big day for you, it was just bad timing that it had been the same day before Corpse’s all nighter stream. You sighed and pouted out your bottom lip, to which Corpse smiled at you and his index finger flicked your bottom lip down further before letting it spring back up and you both giggled lazily.
“I am really tired.” You confirmed.
“I know.”
"Are you sure you don’t want me to stay up with you?”
“Not if it’s this much of a struggle for you.”
“You won’t be mad at me?”
“I will be furious.” Suddenly his grip tightened on your jaw and your eyes went wide for a moment. To which Corpse laughed, you always were so gullible when tired. “Baby, I’m kidding, of course I won’t be mad.”
Your eyes relaxed back into their tired state and his hand moved up the side of your face to rub along your cheek. You turned your head briefly in order to leave a soft kiss against the inside of his palm.
“You’ll be okay?” You asked him.
“Yes.”
“Come lay down with me while I fall asleep?”
With a confirmation from him, you’d made your way to bed, and Corpse had come to lay with you, but it seemed that you pretty much fell asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow. Proving just how tired you were. But he stayed with you for as long as he could, enjoying the serenity that came with you being in your most peaceful state. His heart warmed that you trusted him to be present with you in what was also a vulnerable state and how he’d swear he’d do all he could to protect you when he saw you like this, no other sound audible other than the quiet breaths that fell from your slightly parted lips. As he looked at your closed eyelids, he imagined what you would be dreaming about, how he wished that when he ever so carefully traced his fingertips around your relaxed features he could be grated access to your dreamland.
Suddenly, an alarm sounded from Corpse’s phone. “Fuck-” He hissed quietly, reaching for his phone to shut it off, not wanting it to disturb you. It was his reminder that he had to go and stream soon. Looking back to you, he noticed your eyebrows had furrowed ever so slightly, a threat that you were close to being awoken by the alarm. “Sorry, baby.” He whispered so hushed that even if you were awake, you probably wouldn’t have heard it. As things remained silent once more, he saw you visibly relax again and he knew that as he cautiously got up from the bed to make his way to his computer, you were venturing back to your dreams.
-
By the time Corpse’s stream had finished, the sun had woken up, it was officially daylight. He was feeling a little strange with the timing, and he felt as if he should be going to be sleep with the end of a stream, but he knew he most likely wouldn’t. However, there was something about going to bed that he had been looking forward to, it had remained in the back of his thoughts throughout the stream and that was the idea of crawling into bed beside you. Opening the bedroom door, a smile was present on his face as you were still there and still so serene. Your complete current energy of calm also bringing Corpse peace. He’d seen you in this sleeping state only hours earlier in the moonlight, but there was something about the early hours of morning daylight seeping in through the curtains that made you look so warm.
After discarding his clothes, he crept into bed as heedfully as he could in an effort to not disturb you. However, as he settled in beside you, he heard you sigh and let out a sleepy groan. Briefly, you opened one eye before quickly shutting it upon feeling the morning sun attack your just-woken-up eyesight.
“Good morning, baby.” Corpse had caught your eye that had quickly peeked open.
“Mm, mornin’.” You greeted him back, your voice croaky with sleep.
“Sorry for waking you up.” Corpse apologised, however, selfishly he was a little happy you had stirred awake, because he took the opportunity to twist his arms around you and pull you in against him, giving into his want to cuddle you close.
“S’okay.” You weren’t annoyed at all, in fact, you were so happy to have him back in bed with you. His arms coming around you were more than welcomed by you and you nuzzled in even closer to rest your face under his chin and against his neck. “Missed you.” You mumbled against his skin. Sleeping with Corpse by your side had become such a comfort for you. Much like how someone misses their bed when staying somewhere else, you now missed having him with you. In a response, he tightened his hold around you.
“Missed you, too.” He could already feel your breath evening out again, a sign you were falling back asleep, not quite ready to begin your day. But that was okay with Corpse, he would so happily wait like this. Now that his stream was over, he could just simply lay here with you, his hand that had snuck under your shirt rubbing mindless strokes and shapes against the skin of your back.
He shut his own eyes too, because if there ever was a time for him to reach sleep, it would be when your peace radiated right into him so selflessly. But even if he wasn’t able to reach his own dreamland, he was happy right there, because being there with you, once again, in this serene state was so dreamlike on its own.
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sashannes · 4 years
Text
conscious yet dreaming
https://archiveofourown.org/works/26392321
words: 1,911
fandom: The Owl House
ship: Lumity
description/summary:
She released a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding and grasped Luz’s hand a little tighter. Slowly, hesitantly, her thumb began to trace light circles on the darker skin, something she could never come close to doing if Luz had been conscious. But this was early in the morning, Luz was asleep, Amity was feeling emboldened, and as far as she was concerned, they were in another dimension entirely.
or;
nearly 2k words of Lumity fluff, set almost directly after WiLW :)
It wasn’t exactly hard for Amity to believe that she was still asleep.
For one thing, the morning light filtering in from the stained glass window tinted everything in the room with some sort of quality that was fantastical and dreamlike. The dust hovering in the air and catching the rays of the sun could easily be mistaken for literal sparkles to the sleep-muddled mind. Everything was still and serene, which was what the young witch was used to, but this was different. It was better than mornings in her own house. It was cozier; warmer.
And for another thing, it was somewhat difficult for Amity to believe she had woken up and been greeted by the tranquil face of a sleeping Luz Noceda, mere inches from her own. At this proximity, she could practically see every minute detail that made the human as breathtaking as she was. The witch’s eyes traced the faint freckles that dusted her cheeks, up to her eyelashes, which fluttered slightly in her sleep, back down to the slight scrunch of her nose and the curve of her mouth, the shape of her jaw . . . The sight was surreal. She was surreal . . . which is why Amity admired her for so long, unabashedly, before her mind caught up with her surroundings and realized she was actually awake.
Her eyes widened comically and she scooted away with a barely stifled squeak, heat speeding to her cheeks. The blanket they had been sharing slid off Luz’s body. Her eyebrows creased together and she muttered incomprehensibly, curling a bit inward on herself, but her eyes remained closed (thank the Titan).
The girl’s hand began to clumsily search for the blanket, and Amity tried to help by reaching out to lay it back over the human. Instead, Luz’s hand landed on Amity’s, and it immediately decided that this was a better prize than the blanket. The human intertwined their fingers within a split second. Amity squeaked again. Apparently, she still hadn’t hit a limit when it came to just how red her face could get.
Luz, meanwhile, had relaxed again. There was even a slight smile in her expression, one that certainly hadn’t been there before. A contented sigh escaped her on her next exhale, and Amity swore she could have died happily right then and there. She released a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding and grasped Luz’s hand a little tighter. Slowly, hesitantly, her thumb began to trace light circles on the darker skin, something she could never come close to doing if Luz had been conscious. But this was early in the morning, Luz was asleep, Amity was feeling emboldened, and as far as she was concerned, they were in another dimension entirely.
How had she ended up here, anyway? It took a few moments for her brain to piece together last night’s events, given the fog it was being put through (the girl of my dreams is holding my hand in her sleep and we fell asleep next to each other and she’s still next to me and she looks so pretty and happy and beautiful and please for the love of the titan help me), but eventually it came back to her. And oh, her heart fluttered even more—was that even possible at this point?—at the remembrance.
Her recollection of yesterday was full of laughter and contentment and a sense of belonging, of comfort, accompanied by a healthy dose of Luz, Luz, Luz. She remembered the care behind Eda’s eyes as she refilled Amity’s cup of tea, even if the older witch would never admit that she had a soft spot for the kids. She remembered the warmth that filled her heart as she played games with the other three, the ones she could call friends (friends!). She remembered the peculiar shouts of the little demon creature that seemed to live there, so full of anger and yet incredibly endearing at the same time.
But her smile, Luz’s smile—that’s what she could remember most vividly. It was sent her way countless times yesterday, and each time it made Amity’s heart leap in her chest, her face catching fire as Willow sent rather knowing smirks in her direction (which she did her best to pointedly ignore). It wasn’t her fault that Luz was so charming. She couldn’t control the way she felt weak in the knees every time they made eye contact (and her leg injury was not helping with that). At this point, the witch wasn’t even trying to slow her fall.
So when Luz had offered for her to spend the night, who was she to deny her? She had offered it to Willow and Gus, too, but—
“Oh no, that’s okay, we really should get going!”
“Wait, why no—oof! Er, yeah, haha, we can’t stay!”
“You two have fun though! We’ll see you tomorrow!”
Amity honestly couldn’t decide if she had wanted to thank Willow or strangle her.
After the other two witches had left, their night together had been filled with much of the same shenanigans as before, with a noticeable increase in just how often Amity’s face filled with heat. Every accidental brush of their hands, every moment of eye contact, every laugh they shared—it all made the witch feel lightheaded. She nearly forgot to let her family know where she was, but after a brief conversation with her siblings (“Don’t worry, Mittens! We’ve got you covered!”), it was settled.
And then came time for them to sleep, and her heart nearly stopped at the thought of sleeping next to Luz, and her heart did stop when Luz scooped her into her arms to carry her up the stairs (Titan, was it going to be like this the entire time her leg was broken?), and she didn’t know how she was going to get any rest as she listened to Luz’s excited whispers to her under the covers, and Luz was positively enchanting, just so breathtaking under the dim lights she had created with her glyphs, and the witch could feel her mind drifting to sleep despite the odds, lulled by the sound of the human’s voice, and—
And here they were. Luz, asleep, clutching onto her hand affectionately. Amity, unable to do anything but admire her and fall for her a little bit more in the light of the early morning.
Tentatively, the witch squeezed her hand, and the human responded with a slow squeeze of her own, her serene smile growing wider. Titan, she was adorable. Amity couldn’t help but grin, eyes practically watering at how exhilaratingly happy she felt. This was real.
So of course, a buzz from her scroll nearby had to shatter the moment. The witch knew it had to be from at least one member of her family, so she couldn’t just ignore it. She tried to shift away from Luz so that she could grab the scroll, but Luz just gripped her hand tighter and mumbled in her sleep. Amity shook her head and sighed fondly. So be it. She rolled onto her back and stretched out her other arm to the side as far as she could, barely managing to grab the scroll and bring it to her, hand connected to the human’s the entire time. But at the sight of the notification, she let out a quiet groan.
Ed: Morning, Mittens! Mom and Dad are wondering when you’ll be home, uh.. they’re not super happy with you right now. We tried our best :/
She began to type with one hand, trying to keep her frustration (mixed with panic) to a minimum.
Me: Ugh, I don’t know Ed. They can’t handle me being away for one night?
Ed: Well, they thought you would be studying last night. You know how they get.
Me: I’m fine. I don’t need to study.
Ed: Sure, sure! But you’ll have to tell them that when you get home.
Me: Yeah, I know. Whatever. I’ll be home later.
Ed: Just.. later? No specific time?
Me: Yep.
Ed: Alright then! Um.. I’ll tell them you said that.
Me: Thanks.
Ed: Yep. Have fun. Em says hi, and tell your girlfriend that we both say hi too! ;)
She didn’t bother giving him the satisfaction of a response to that (never mind the heat that immediately sprang to her cheeks).
Sighing, the witch set her scroll down and rolled back on her side to face Luz again. And just like that, some of the anxious thoughts about her parents melted away. Of course, she was still a little concerned, but the sight of the human always seemed to . . . relax her a little.
She didn’t want to go home. She much preferred where she was right now, in a house full of warmth and a strange but beautiful sort of love, two things she hadn’t had much experience with before the human stumbled into her life. Parents be damned, she could stand to be in a little trouble.
So, with a deep breath and a spark of courage, she closed the gap between them, shifting so that her side was a centimeter away from being fully pressed up against the human. She left room for their hands, still tangled together. Their legs and arms brushed, and she could feel Luz’s breath on her face. The human’s eyelids fluttered. Amity’s heart skipped two or five beats, but the human didn’t wake.
The young witch’s heart threatened to pound its way out of her chest, but she remained where she was, convinced that she was doing this as a way to spite her parents (definitely not because she just wanted to be as close to Luz as possible). In fact, she raised her other arm to take it a step further, but Luz beat her to the punch.
The human draped an arm over her waist and tugged, inviting Amity to scoot even closer so that they were pressed against each other now. The witch felt on the verge of blacking out once again, but Luz was warm, so warm, and everything felt right. She tried to force her breathing to slow, even if the racing of her heart was a little harder to get under control.
In their current position, there wasn’t much she could do other than tuck her head under the human’s chin and bury her face in her chest, savoring the warmth of their intertwined fingers between them. Amity hadn’t planned on going back to sleep, but she really couldn’t help it when her eyes began to close, and Luz wasn’t letting go anytime soon. She could hear the human’s steady heartbeat like a lullaby, and who was she to resist it? So she let herself go, giving in to the comfort. She could stand to be selfish. Just this once.
And if Luz woke up later on, a little disoriented but not at all disappointed at being tangled up with a (very adorable) sleeping Amity Blight, then that was all the better. The human would give her a tender smile, reach out and brush a lock of mint green hair behind the ears that she found to be so very cute, and silently wish that the peace and content in the witch’s expression could last forever. Luz would hold her, patient and caring, making sure she was undisturbed. They could handle the difficulties of the waking world later.
For now, Amity Blight deserved to dream.
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ritaofwar · 3 years
Text
ABOUT RITA 
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full name: margaret qiuyue zhang nicknames: rita (primary name) age: thirty-six pronouns: she/her zodiac: pisces sun, capicorn moon, pisces rising mbti: intj-a, the architect  alignment: true neutral
+ Imaginative: Think outside the box is a saying that Rita struggles to understand. Why impress upon people that there is a box in the first place? Thought, in and of itself, is boundless, reaching further than the outer limits of the universe. For Rita there has never been a box. Independence in thought allows the imagination to roam through the peaks and valleys of possibility and rationale, to toy with ideas and theories. It’s this quality that enables Rita to swiftly and cleverly untangle problems, and rearrange modes of operation. If patterns can be detected, information can be found, and with a mind that works like hers it’s a thrilling challenge to imagine solutions. And when she isn’t solving problems this imagination of hers runs wild, lending the woman an entire galaxy of her own. 
+ Tenacious: Rita has heard the stories of her family’s lives in China. Of the Japanese invasion, the Moaist regime, the famine, and her familys’ journey from the world they knew and loved to one that offered opportunity and security with a sacrificial price. Her ancestors’ strength moves through her, catapults her into action, and Rita knows that she has to fight for what she wants. Society has constantly tried to convince her that she’s less than, that her potential is not enough, and it’s only added fuel to her fire. People can count on her to get things done, to see it through and done right because for her there is no other choice. 
+ Decisive: Bossy. Utilitarian. Arrogant. Rita has heard it all, but in reality the woman, since girlhood, has simply been unafraid to take initiative and make decisions. Lacking hesitation, she finds herself ahead because of  her resolution and unwavering assuredness. For her it’s not a question of whether or not she makes the “right” decision, because once it is made, it no longer matters. Instead, Rita focuses on turning every decision into the right one. This aspect doesn’t always make friends, or present as the most attractive trait, but Rita appreciates, and takes pride, in this part of herself. 
- Manipulative: In pursuit of her own desires there are very few lines that Rita is wary to cross, and those she uses are often thought of as little more than pawns. What she lacks in innate charisma, she has learned to make up for through observation and perception. Perhaps she can’t simply charm you into doing what she wants, but the woman can certainly convince you that what you want is synonymous to what she wants by deftly pulling on the strings of logic and desire, reality and fantasy, until the lines blur and she can reap the benefits. But as handy a tool it is, Rita herself can often be left questioning what is real and what is not.  
- Detached: As a girl Rita’s mother lamented that she didn’t understand her own child, an enigma, a puzzle, she would mutter in Mandarin. And others shared the sentiment. She was hard to keep up with, hard to pin down, and ultimately hard to connect to. When one feels as though people are constantly struggling to understand them, tolerating rather than grasping them, distance grows. What is often misinterpreted as haughtiness, is really a fear of being misunderstood, and showing her authentic self. Rita’s emotional well runs deep, and she’s terrified to drown. It’s a lonely way to live.
- Paranoid: Rita once thought that power and persuasion would bring security. People value her, money has made her more than comfortable, and intel keeps her prepared and in control. But now, in a world as cruel as the one she finds herself in, Rita fears it’s only a matter of time before the gaping maws come snapping at her. Her sense of reality melts away, and in its place delusions of betrayal and deception close in. Suspicion and anxiety follow suit and suddenly her coveted  power is the enemy. Then, as quickly as it came on, it recedes, lurking in the shadows until it seizes her once again.
BIOGRAPHY 
Margaret Zhang was born in a humble, upstairs flat in Camden, London. Her mother’s screams could be heard from the street, but Rita was as silent as a lamb when she entered the world. She would hear the retelling many times by her grandmother-- eyes like saucers, unblinking and astute, as though she had been waiting for this moment, knew it was coming, and couldn’t bear to delay her first glimpse at the world. Their flat sat above the family’s business, a portrait studio, and though they didn’t have much to their name the Zhang’s were overjoyed at the arrival of their small, plump daughter. 
Largely silent until the age of two, Rita’s father often had to ease her mother’s mind as the woman worried over their daughter’s development. The quiet, sharp-eyed baby grew into a reticent, and pensive girl.  Even at a young age it seemed that the child was lost in thought, floating somewhere just beyond reality, wondering about the whistling tea kettle, about the cars beyond the window, the flick of the cat’s tail, and the weather report on the television all at once. Her thoughts were scattered about, picking apart different details and examining them like their own separate mysteries. And when her mother would say her name, you could practically see the threads of thought gathering back together, tethering the girl once more. Rita lived inside her head. Her thoughts, curiosities, and dreams weaved an intricate web as if to ensnare anything that passed through her mind. She wanted everything-- yearned for extravagance, craved knowledge, thirsted for intrigue, ached for significance. But how to attain it?
Growing up, one of Rita’s favorite past times was helping her father in the studio, fetching batteries, a different lens, extra stools, ... whatever was necessary to gain those moments where she got to observe people. She’d watch them gently handle the new baby that was proving to be more work than either parent had signed on for, or watch as siblings bickered over the center, ruining multiple shots so that their mother delivered swift swats to the back of their ginger heads. Newly weds, ancient faces, best friends... People of all colors, speaking in foreign languages, happy, tired, frustrated... Their worlds were hers for those few moments, and in their worlds possibilities multiplied beyond her ability to comprehend, and it was in these worlds that she felt most at home. Their faces smoothed with practiced composure when her father dipped his head to look through the viewfinder, but oftentimes they were so focused on what was to come, that they were most open in the seconds before. It was there, in that small room with low ceilings and the subtle smell of wet wood that Rita learned to read people, to guess their desires, their hardships, their fears. She would come to spend everyday after school there beside her father, inserting herself  into the lives of others to escape for just a few moments. 
In reality growing up as a British Asian came with challenges and hardships. Her mother held her head high when store clerks belittled her with slow speech or offensive imitations. Her father did well to catch the eyes of those who dared to stare or sneer on the Tube. Her grandmother, who never quite caught onto the English language, was spared the exact slurs that were muttered as they passed a group of teenage boys on the street, but the sentiment transcended speech. Kids were cruel and even Rita felt the flames of shame lick at her cheeks when Sarah McCormick loudly remarked upon the foreign smell of Rita’s Shuizu, or when Jeffery Louse announced that his father thought people like her didn’t belong in England. Humiliation, rage, injustice, and hurt are wonderful catalysts, C-4 placed at the base of a dam; it honed her vision, sharpening what had once been a soft, dreamlike quality to her desires. Rita would have a life that put everything at her fingertips, allowed her to say what mattered and what didn’t, things would not happen to her, she would make them happen.  
Her parents needn’t push her to excel, she wanted it for herself, needed it for herself, so the girl plunged herself into tuning her mental acuity. And when she didn’t have the means to make do on her own, the young woman dove into her treasure trove of manipulative skills. She read their body language, mimicked their energy, and picked apart their words to gain what she could from them. She used her imagination, knowing that if she reached far enough, jumped high enough, and let go of  how things should be done, that there was a world of endless possibilities and delights. It was this willingness to stray beyond the beaten path that blazed her through secondary school and propelled her to London School of Economics and Political Science. But when she arrived at university, Rita was hopelessly lost. She had spent so much time dreaming of different lives that she floundered when it came time to decide which direction to take. Having already chosen and thrown away the ideas of business and politics, Rita had recently turned to law when, by happenstance, she found War.
A colleague heard that a position had recently opened up in the accounting department for the company Bellum Nova. Rita had heard of it, of course, a name that garnered attention from news outlets, caught hers as well, and though Rita was learned in mathematics, she knew next to nothing about weapons manufacturing. Still, she applied, naive to the fact that the “open position” was in fact the role of a scapegoat in case reports were dragged into the blinding light of an interrogation room. Still, they used her for the legal proceedings of the company, and although the work was mundane and rather monotonous, Rita felt that Bellum Nova was the sort of place where things happen. 
And they did. It was a routine file submission, a cross examination of current assets, and the invoices presented to accounts receivable, the busy work they often handed down to her. But this time she noticed a discrepancy. Thousands of pounds missing from a single client. She double checked, triple checked, then, heart pounding in her chest, filed the invoice away like any other. No one had asked her to ignore it, in fact she never even mentioned it to her boss, but she was suspicious of what it meant. In the weeks to come more and more evidence of revenues being underreported trickled down between the numbers. She did the same equations over and over to be sure, finding again and again that the figures didn’t lie. It was simple to cover up, and with decisive fingers, she changed the dates on back up reports to align with requirement contract overages. She worked quickly, and without instruction, acutely aware that this wasn’t a simple case of oversight. One evening her boss stopped her on the way out. Bellum Nova, or rather War, was  in need of a capable accountant, and the illegal transactions in her possession were, more than anything else, a test of confidence and initiative, and, unlike the poor chap before her, Rita had passed. 
An angel, they called it. Funny name for a role that was a far cry from any celestial being. She remained a scapegoat, a fall man if anything should go awry, but now she had purpose. Changing her major to economics, Rita suddenly saw a dazzling future amidst the figures before her. She had come to understand long ago that there wasn’t a straight, honest line to what she wanted, and if it meant fudging numbers and forging invoices, she would do it. In fact, there was little she wouldn’t do. The thrill of it all engulfed her, and like Persephone she found herself trapped in an underworld she desperately adored. University taught her how to legally orchestrate finances for a global company, and War taught her the workings of a world of crime. She held her position at Bellum Nova throughout university, eventually gaining her initiation and a place among the Powers just months after she had graduated. 
In the years to follow Rita continued to learn about the weaponries industry, and what it required while continuing on for a certification in jurisprudence. Rita learned the law in order to avoid it, and where she had once prodded the line of right and wrong the woman now strode across the barriers, watching as her influence grew, her knowledge bounded, and her pockets grew heavier. She was as willing to carry out a delivery, as extort a politician, as to place her signature on a forged invoice. It was this dedication, along with her tenacity to retain what she learned, and her aptitude for problem solving  that put Rita in place for the role of Dominion. It was nearly a decade after joining that she ascended to the position. Some claim she only received the title because of Remus, that nepotism was as alive and well in War as any institution (legal or otherwise), but Rita knows how many hours she poured over textbooks new and old, how much blood she tasted in her mouth, how often she had berated herself over the details of her decisions. It might have been Rita alone that knew how much she really deserved it, but that was enough for her, and no one dared say otherwise to her face. 
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The Meeting Room
Prologue   /   Part 1   /   Part 2   /   Part 3
__________________________________
How long has it been? One, two months? Angel doesn’t know. He hasn’t been outside the attic in God knows how long! He’s desperate for a hint of light, but not desperate enough that he would beg for it. No. He has stayed strong, stronger than they expected. He hasn’t broke and has no plan to. Other than Sir and Mistress, Angel hasn’t seen another soul since his arrival at this disgusting house. He’s so utterly sick of this place, he’d do anything to get out.
Well, almost anything.
The world shifts a tad when Sir enters the attic. He has that usual gleam in his eye, like he knows something Angel doesn’t. Sir loves feeling like he’s in control. It excites him. He feels powerful. However, it’s times like these that he’s at his weakness. His mind isn’t focusing on his proximity to Angel or the fact that he’s left a certain part of his body too close to Angel, completely unprotected. Unfortunately for Sir, Angel’s never one to pass up on an opportunity to take a shot at his captor.
Sir is too careless with his movements as he reaches towards Angel’s wrists – which are manacled above his head while he sits on the ground. A surprised and pained groan escapes Sir as Angel grips his chains lifting himself off the floor with enough momentum to kick his captor directly between his legs. Frustratingly, he’s lost so much strength, it doesn’t have the desired effect. No severe damage is done, but that doesn’t mean it is painless. 
Retaliating ragefully, Sir grips his firefly by his hair, yanking his neck back, exposing it. Then he shoots some magic into his prisoner’s collar, tightening it. Angel doesn’t care. It was bound to happen anyway. Good behavior doesn’t get rewarded; only bad behavior gets a reaction. Angel had tested it out. After getting bored, the crafty prisoner decided to see if being good – not attacking Sir when he put his guard down – would end up with a positive aftermath. He was wrong. Sir only seemed to enjoy hurting his firefly.
Angel doesn’t know why he expected anything different from a psychopath.
As his brain starts short-circuiting due to lack of air, Angel closes his eyes. He has been choked and strangled so many times after Sir discovered his dislike of neck touching. It is getting old. Angel is more fed up with his captor then the other way around, which he can’t seem to understand. It is the same thing every day: beat, choke, retaliate, beat. What was so exciting about that? Angel couldn’t understand it.
Angel’s eyes suddenly open. This isn’t right! He’s never been strangled this long before. Is-is Sir going to- to kill him? His face is turning blue due to lack of oxygen. Wait, when did he get out of the manacles? There’s something pressing into him. Oh, he’s being carried. The attic’s entrance… ‘s getting… clos… er…
*****
When Angel wakes up, he’s muzzled. Muzzled for crying out loud! The first thing he registers other than the harsh straps of the muzzle squeezing against his skin, is the muffled voices. Unfamiliar voices. A sliver of hope arises in his chest. Maybe, he can get out! The wish instantly vanishes when he makes out the chains around his wrists that are connected to a table where Sir is sitting in a chair above him. Ignoring the rattling of chains above him as he rubs his eyes, Angel blinks a few times before his blurry vision returns to normal. The room is vast with expensive furniture, a chandelier, and divine pictures. There are candles littered everywhere giving the room a dreamlike illumination. Still, it’s uncomfortable. It’s clear this is not Sir and Mistress’s house. Angel presses a palm to the ground to push himself up but stops abruptly when he feels the texture underneath his hand.
It’s a rug!
He hasn’t felt anything soft in so long. When the muffled voices start transforming into words, Angel knows his senses are finally coming back. That means it’s time to fight. Time to form a plan. Time to escape, and if that’s not possible, make Sir as miserable as possible.
It’s time to work.
“Sir you really must see the Collector’s toy. It’s the most gorgeous little thing I’ve ever seen!” A woman with a lavish, scarlet gown speaks with a pleasant air to Sir.
“So, I’ve heard.” Sir smiles that smile Angel knows all too well. “One moment.” Once the woman walks to the opposite side of the room (which is cluttered with important looking men in suits and women in gowns) Sir focuses his attention on his firefly, who is finally awake, looking as perfect as ever on the gorgeous rug beneath him. “Aren’t you a beauty.” Sir says under his breath, mostly to himself. Then his voice reaches his usual tone, “Now, little firefly, I’m going to leave momentarily, so don’t cause any harm until I come back.”
Angel makes sure not to give away any emotion or idea lingering in his eyes at this news. He doesn’t nod; he just stares at his captor expectantly. Every fiber of his being hates this muzzle, these chains, and sitting on the floor. It’s humiliating, especially in front of all these people who think they are worth so much more than he is.
He doesn’t think like a slave, pet, or whatever these revolting people think he should be. The only thought on his mind is escape. If he has to take down everyone in this room with him, he will in a heartbeat.
When Sir leaves, Angel remains chained to the table above him. Unsure if he should stand up or continue to observe the room from here, Angel notices something appalling. He’s not the only one in chains.
There are other individuals in muzzles, chained to their captors or tables above them. Angel isn’t having any of this, but he must be patient and careful in escaping. Suddenly, all of the people in formal attire, gather to the far end of the room. They seem to be looking at something. A large, burly man (a bit round in Angel’s opinion) appears to be the center of attention. His voice sounds like a king’s, able to control a room with a single word.
The man seems to be enjoying the attention; he wears a blue, velvet suit with a dark navy bowtie. He reeks of wealth. Everyone is gossiping about the man, and Angel is able to pick out his name, or at least what he’s called: The Collector. Nothing good can come of a title like that.
Sneakily, Angel slowly raises an arm to his muzzle. There’s a buckle he can undo easily enough. What? Did Sir expect him to obediently keep it on? That man is duller than he thought, but if he took it off, he’d still have the chains to deal with. More importantly, the collar around his neck. That’s when Angel sees it – on the floor just a little ways ahead of him – a bobby pin.
For once in his life, Angel is grateful for growing up on the street. He could pick the lock on his collar in his sleep. Easy! The chains may not be so easy; it would be too noisy. He’d have to come up with another idea for that.
As he crawls forward, at an agonizingly slow pace to reach the pin, he glances up making out what the Collector is showing off. Angel wants to throw up! Cornered in the room is a boy around his own age. He has thick, brown hair, which he is purposely pushing over his face in a pathetic attempt to hide. Angel can see him shivering from the opposite side of the room. Everything about this is so wrong!
Snatching the bobby pin, Angel leans back to hear the Collector’s voice over the whispering crowd. He’s talking to the boy. “Look up. Let them see your pretty face.” Of course, Angel can’t see his face from where he’s sitting on the ground, but he can already imagine the fearful look the poor boy must be giving. He’s never seen anyone shake that badly.
That means the boy… he’s broken.
Angel is really going to throw up! Trying to rip his thought away from the unfortunate boy, he starts fiddling with the pin as unassumingly as possible. The collar will have to be the first thing to go.
As the crowd packs together a bit tighter to get a better look, some of the audience members glance around at the other muzzled individuals. Now that there is no line to look around, a few of the wealthy stray and begin walking around. One man in particular with dark skin and nearly black eyes is coming far too close to Angel’s location. A tighter grip of uneasiness sickens his stomach. Angel looks down at the ground, slowly drawing nearer to the table and hiding the collar behind him - hoping that no one will notice its absence. If he can pick lock the chains from the table, he might have a chance.
But he’s running out of time!
The man is gradually nearing him, Angel quickly works on the chains attached to the table. A faint “clinking” sounds from the right one. Now for the left –
“Well aren’t you a mischievous one?” The dark man is now directly before Angel; he’s crouching down to get a better look. Stealthily holding the right chain to the table, he hopes the man won’t notice that it’s no longer attached. Slim chance of that. “You’re certainly a beautiful little thing, aren’t ya? Too bad Sir isn’t selling ya. I’d pay a pretty price for your stunning eyes alone.” Angel keeps his eyes away from the man – since that’s what the other muzzled ones do – and uses his muscle memory to try and unlock the left chain. He almost has it; he just needs to keep this man’s attention long enough. That isn’t a terribly difficult task seeing as though the man hasn’t stopped talking and is assumed to be a chatterbox. Wealthy people always are. “Who am I kidding, even me with all my money, couldn’t afford ya.” Reaching an arm out, the man pets Angel’s black waves with a heavy hand. Angel has to hold his breath to keep his hate out of his expression.
The Collector has stopped talking in the distance and the crowd has grown louder. As their volume rises, a sense of urgency sinks into Angel’s forcedly calm hands. The man is growing closer and closer to him. He can feel his warm breath tickle his eyelashes; he stinks of wine and expensive cologne.
The next events happen in the blink of an eye. Swiftly and in one motion, Angel frees his left wrist, wraps both the chains around the man’s neck, and brings them against his head – attempting to unbuckle his muzzle. He can only hope that no one notices the choking noises that the man is making; luckily for him, the man is far too surprised to fight being put in this hold, and now he’s securely tied still. Now, if only Angel’s can get his Advances to work – they have been suppressed for so long that it is a struggle to reawaken them – escaping would be so much simpler.
Standing up now, Angel eyes the nearest door. He can reach it! Taking a few steps forward, he feels the man before him start to grow heavy and more frantic. Thrashing about, the man’s long arm manages to snag the side of the table making a loud sound. At this, a few audience members turn.
Then. The room explodes with noise.
5 notes · View notes
comicteaparty · 4 years
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July 25th-July 31st, 2020 Creator Babble Archive
The archive for the Creator Babble chat that occurred from July 25th, 2020 to July 31st, 2020.  The chat focused on the following question:
Where can your comic be read, what is it about, and why should people read it?
carcarchu
last one
mariah (rainy day dreams)
You can read Rainy Day Dreams on it's homesite: http://rainydaydreams.mariahcurrey.com/ Book 1 of RDD is also currently in pre-orders for both physical and digital books. This volume collects the newly redrawn and remastered first five charters. Currently not all of those pages are online so book buyers will get to see them first https://gumroad.com/mariahcurrey Rainy Day Dreams is a manga influenced, character driven supernatural story with dreamlike pacing. It follows the lives Tristin, an excitable and friendly human who becomes trapped in the Nameless World after a treasure hunt gone wrong, Mara, a reclusive retired knight belonging to an ancient lineage of psychics, and Michael, a sad vampire torn between his vampire instincts and being the soft boy he is deep down. Come for the compelling characters, interpersonal drama, and found family, stay for the underlying slow build of the cosmic machinations of the Nameless World's gods and a villain from the past bent on undoing the very fabric of reality. Reasons you should read it beyond the above pitch: - I've been told by frequently people find it's relaxing to read. We all need a little relaxation - Has a female driven narrative - I take every chance I get to put my characters in ball gowns or party dresses - Monsters! Cute monsters, scary monsters! Monsters that want to eat you, monsters that want to smooch you! - I make this comic traditionally with ink wash so enjoy all the beautiful ink blooms! - Chapter 18 starts this week
CoppertheCarutor
Oh wow, I missed out on A LOT! Dang! Well, here it goes I guess. To start off, please read with discretion, this project is rated R/17+ and for now contains: Abuse, discussion of suicide, blood, violence, queerphobia, trauma, mental illness, self-harm, mild body horror, substance abuse, profanity and full-frontal nudity. You can read my comic, The Guide to a Healthy Relationship, on it's main site: http://tgtahr.spiderforest.com/ I also have it posted on Tapas, Webtoons (nudity censored), Comicfury, FlowFo and Itch.io. The Guide to a Healthy Relationship is a slowburn character driven psychological drama about an emotionally immature alcoholic trying to make amends, and fix his friendship with his ex-childhood friend upon discovering they're not dead. Unfortunately the situation is much more complicated and serious than he can comprehend. Why you should check it out: - Possibly interesting if you enjoy non-fantastical character studies and/or Psychology. - May be cathartic if you like consuming heavy content in a controlled environment. - Has some light horror elements. - Contains an extremely flawed LGBT+ cast. - No romance. - This comic is drawn traditionally with pens and color pencils. - The story is a little over halfway finished. - Contains/will contain beaches if you like the beach. - Lots of sky shots.(edited)
Krispy §[Ghost Junk Sickness]§
(Ahhh this was hard to write out, i'll really miss this server) Ghost Junk Sickness is a free to read LGBTQ+ sci-fi that tackles themes of found family, accountability, and acceptance. It rated T for it's course language and violence, and can be read on it's official website, < https://www.ghostjunksickness.com/ > . Books 1-3 are available on the store (link on site) and we're currently on our way to wrap up and print vol 4! Ghost Junk Sickness is about two bounty hunters with an unstable dynamic who are pushed to pursue the elusive and deadly bounty dubbed The Ghost. It updates mondays and fridays, features an extensive cast with queer rep, topics about dealing with trauma, responsibility, and taking control. GJS has: -Space ships! -Lived in worlds/ extensive world building through illustrative backgrounds and characters - Slow burn character growth, expanding relationships, and new love -Drawn traditionally and worked on by a team of two! -Long run story that reached the halfway point, GJS has a huge buffer of over 800 pages now, so it's a time sinker! - hot lizard lady (best part)
Eightfish (Puppeteer)
holy shit 800 page buffr
OH wait by buffer you mean archive omg
Krispy §[Ghost Junk Sickness]§
(oh YE we only have 70 page buffer now woohopps lol)
Eightfish (Puppeteer)
holy shit 70 page buffer
that's like 10 months
eliushi [Keyspace]
KEYSPACE: A Winged Tale is a story about kids with wings for hair, and can be found at https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/keyspace-a-winged-tale/list?title_no=322364 https://tapas.io/series/KEYSPACE-A-Winged-Tale/ TW: Body Horror (comes with having wings sprouting from the head and more) Keyspace is my passion project about a world between portals that is dying. A Winged Tale is the first story of this series and touches upon the deeper magic that unites the work. It’s about a wingless girl trying to find her missing scientist mother in a laboratory beneath a forest, winged children discovering their origins and Machines that once ravaged the world, now lost. It’s a story for those who grew up with Studio Ghibli stories but want a little more complications and lore but still retain hope for the future. TL;DR: Come for winged hair, sad robots, possibly dragons, lots of science. The comic returns August 1
CoppertheCarutor
AH! Thank you for reminding about a couple content warnings I forgot to add.
LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)
Phantomarine is a story about a haunted ocean, a ghostly princess, and her journey to save her soul from a death god known as the Red Tide King. http://www.phantomarine.com/ TW: death, body horror, limb loss Princess Phaedra's untimely and mysterious death casts her out into the dark waters of the Candlelight Sea, forcing her to wander the world as an ethereal seaghost. Her journey toward resurrection quickly evolves into a grand maritime adventure on her ship, the Mantaluna, along with a crew of similarly-cursed friends and familiars. But Phaedra's mission has a dark undercurrent to it - a divine mystery that, when solved, will force her to question everything about her life, her death, and her world's long-dead past. If you like:
-THE COLOR BLUE (or just the ocean) -general spookiness that never gets too dark or gory -flamboyant villains of various kinds -swashbuckling pirate-y stories -fancy boats and pretty islands -big elemental animal gods fighting -friends and family fighting for each other -lots of hero-vs-villain salt and sass -DOGS
then heck yeah, this is your comic (edited)
Miranda (Into the Swell)
Into the Swell is about a Pirate with nothing left to lose but his life and a Wizard who wants more than a life of entertaining royals with party tricks being thrown together on the treasure hunt of their lives. The official blurb is: Ocean swells are remnants of storms hundreds of miles away. So do past actions cause swells of destiny on the shores of the present. Fate will always find a way. Given the choice between a one way trip to the gallows or a return to high sea adventure, imprisoned pirate Fletcher makes the obvious choice. With Court appointed wizard Kelwyn watching his every move, the two set off to reclaim a stolen treasure for King and Country. The ocean journey leads the duo through uncharted waters that hide dangers and secrets that could unravel the very fabric of their lives. Could this treasure hunt prove more adventure than they bargained for? TW: deaths? You can find it on https://tapas.io/series/into-the-swell or Webtoons It’s just starting out so there’s not much yet but you gotta start somewhere!
Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~
Heyo! For all you who don't yet know me, I work on Whispers of the Past, a fantasy comic about a farm girl and an amnesiac elf man going on a journey to learn who they really are. https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/whispers-of-the-past/list?title_no=191366 Age Rating: PG-13 or T+ TW: death and corpses, blood and violence, bladed weapons, profanity, depictions of racial discrimination, alcohol, miscarriage, suicide, suggestive content Magical powers can only come from the other side... When Aniya discovers a foreigner with amnesia, she sets out to help him find the answers to his nightmares. Along with their growing feelings for one another, they will uncover an identity riddled with magic, bloodlines, and betrayal. What WotP has to offer: - a unique painterly art style - in-depth world-building (including a conlang) - hurt/comfort themes - hella family drama - MAGIC - ace, bi, and POC representation - cute romance - If you like high fantasy like ATLA, this might be right up your alley
Nutty (Court of Roses)
I wanna say first of all that thank you for this server. Even if I couldn't participate often, it was a lovely place, love you all!! Court of Roses is in several places, but its main site on Spiderforest is a page ahead! Best place to read it is here: http://courtofroses.spiderforest.com/ As summer comes to an end in the kingdom of Prismal, the Bardic Festival is in full swing, bringing together musicians and minstrels from all over. But amidst the celebration, a sinister plot of murder unfolds... Follow a ragtag group of bards as they band together and travel the realm of Prismal; Merlow the Rose, half-elf, charismatic leader, bagpiper, and perpetual drunk; Diana the Fleetfoot Fletcher, human tidinit player with a heart of gold; Nocturne, brooding but classy Infernal and violinist; Sven Rockscreamer, goliath drummer and seeker of justice; and Feliks Halfdance, curious gnome who plays accordion and magically conjures their entire backup. And who knows! Mayhaps they'll solve a murder mystery together! The comic is greatly LGBTQ-friendly, and takes inspiration from both classic fantasy themes (Dungeons and Dragons, Lord of the Rings, The Elder Scrolls, etc.) as well as music across all genres. Specific pages and scenes might even include their own suggested theme songs in the author notes. Contains Fantasy Violence and Alcohol Use(edited)
AntiBunny
You can as always read my comic at http://AntiBunny.net/ and is a film noir inspired story about anthropomorphic rabbits and the difficulty with coexisting with humanity. Crime and conspiracies move the plot along, but in film noir there's rarely a clear black and white. Why should you read it? Do you like stories about crime and conspiracies? Do you like bunnies? Do you want to see a contrast of cute and grim, and see relatable characters who deal with mental health issues, and fight a struggle for acceptance? Do you ask yourself the question what is identity? Well then this is for you.
You can find my other comic at http://nailbat.AntiBunny.net/. Nailbat is part of the AntiBunny universe, and deals with many of the same issues, but using a more straightforward and action packed superhero story. If you love superheroes and action you'll enjoy it, and maybe along the way get into the deeper lore of the AntiBunny world.
Holmeaa - working on WAYFINDERS
Thanks everyone who I have chattet with in here, it has been a delight <3 Wayfinders: Off Course Can be read on Tapas or Webtoons (I prefer tapas ) https://linktr.ee/snackbagstudios Whats it about? You may ask. In a world where magic is as natural as breathing, and the gods are known to actually answer some prayers, a ship is sent to keep the fragile peace between 2 countries that has been at war for 60 years. But guess what? The ship crashes almost immediately. Now the 3 only survivors, a runaway monk, with unexplained powers, the noble son and peace advocate, and a chaos child with an affinity for magic washes ashore on an unknown island and is forced together by a magical compass. With navigation, and magic being broken, it is not an easy task to cross the ocean. If only they knew of the chaos which is unravelling outside their comfortable lives. If they thought this adventure was going to be uneventful, they are in for a surprise. Why should you read it? It is a mix between the Road to Eldorado, and Avatar the Last Airbender, and if that short pitch is not enough, I don't know how else to sell it. It has fun colors, anime reference, and a lot of ocean and sinister magics Thanks to all the admins for putting in so much work in this server
Feather J. Fern
Okay, I have like three comics, and the fourth one coming soon so.....Lets get the easy ones out of the way. On Webtoons, you can read Teasday or Don't you hate it when...(DYHIW) https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/dont-you-hate-it-when/list?title_no=486501 https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/teasday/list?title_no=169870&page=1 DYHIW is a gag comic, so if you want a little laugh to brighten your week, feel free to check it out. Teasday is a tea informative comic, but it's on a bit of a hiatus and ending soon. My current project is Gravitational Pull, a story about a depressed magical girl trying to save the world while also trying to get the energy to leave her bed that day. Read it if you like magical girls, space and representation of anxiety, depression, inferiority complex and learning to take each day slowly. http://gravitationalpull.featheryterrarium.com/ And when it comes out, Go Figure is my comedy action webtoon about someone who wants to use a powerful wish to cure their asthma and allergies over anything else.
sssfrs (JOE IS DEAD)
JOE IS DEAD A band of pirates are visiting an island and they discover the dead body of their astronomer JOSEPH CINNABAR. He leaves behind a will with mysterious instructions that none of the pirates really feel like following. The crew decide to send the least-liked and least responsible pirate of them all on a solo mission to carry out Joe's final wishes. If you like: - Alternate historical timelines where the United States doesn't exist - Gay, lesbian, and transgender pirates - Morbid humor, death, dying - Biblical allusion - Warm colors - Alliteration - My handwriting - Birds or anything else, you will love to read JOE IS DEAD, a webcomic worked on entirely by me that will be at 150 pages within a week or so. My background is in marine biology and satirical writing, so I promise you this comic is funny and scientifically accurate. Rated PG 13, mild violence and swearing Where can I read it Read it on http://joeisdead.com/ (the main hosting website with some functional html) or on Tapas: https://tapas.io/series/JoeIsDead It's also on Webtoons but it's a couple chapters behind on there You can follow me on Twitter for information about updates https://twitter.com/sssfrs_
boogeymadam
Sink Your Hookteeth An LGBT+ Cosmic Horror/Love story about eldritch merfolk that fall for a pair of humans who are studying mermaids to cure a supernatural illness. CW: bodyhorror, gore, upperbody nudity, sickness, drowning, tryophobia, eye trauma, If you like:
-sea monsters
-big teeth
-painted comics
-nonbinary and binary transgender, lesbian, bisexual, and pansexual protagonists
-neurodivergent protagonists
-goofy friendship dynamics
-nasty and imperfect wlw couples
-enemies to lovers trope
-childhood friends to lovers trope
then this is a comic you might enjoy :D! It finished chapter 1 a few months ago with 195 pages, takes maybe an hour or two to read, and is currently on hiatus while I am building chapter 2's buffer. You can read it on Its own site https://hookteethcomic.com/ Webtoons https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/hookteeth/list?title_no=300709 Tapas https://tapas.io/series/Hookteeth/info
also i need to read more of these but joe is dead, wayfinders, keyspace: a winged tale, phantomarine, ghost junk sickness, the guide to a healthy relationship, and court of roses are all absolutely amazing and -chefs kiss- please give them all read if you aren't yet!
varethane
Comics!! Chirault A young half-demon named Teeko has been forced from her home, and to make matters worse, is now the size of a squirrel thanks to a wayward magic spell. Her only protection is the demon-hunter Kiran, who is a demon himself and lacks patience for children. Together, they must seek the help of a mage to reverse the spell on Teeko, but the journey is far from straightforward.. My first webcomic-- it's complete, it's a high fantasy adventure comic about finding family, fighting monsters, and also making friends with monsters (both outside and... inside). Check it out if you enjoy any of those things! http://chirault.sevensmith.net/ Wychwood Tiara is a delinquent who has been using a mysterious power to goof around for years without realizing the kind of attention it could attract. When a powerful organization finally tracks her down and attempts to recruit her, she has to decide what she really stands for. This is my new/current webcomic! It's a sci-fantasy genre-blender, with bits of post-apocalypse and urban fantasy thrown in as a treat just for fun. If you enjoy stories involving evil organizations, fire-flinging delinquents, and angsty supersoldiers, give it a look :U (Chapter 4 has just gotten started!) http://wychwood.sevensmith.net/
TaliePlume
Feather Cleanse (French: Nettoyage des plumes, Haitian Creole: Plim Geri) is a supernatural, sci-fi and military Shonen manga. Set in the year 2034 in the Haitian kingdom, Vérité Kindgom, the story follows 14 year old Soleil Andirans, her two older brothers and their cousin who joins their kingdom's military program to help Soleil find a wanted criminal and stopping a mad scientist from taking over the kingdom. This is a personal project that is very dear to me and I can't wait to share with you all hopefully around June of 2023. Why should you read it: -A positive Haitian representation -Strong female protagonist -Learning about a new culture - Family Bonds -Mad Scientists and experimentations - Criminal MasterMinds - Servant and Master relationships -Kings and Queens/Royalties -Dynamic and Impactful Fights Then, this is the comic for you.
shadowhood {SunnyxRain}
Alrighty cracks knuckles SunnyxRain, a webcomic about monsters surviving college.....BY THE POWER OF FANFICTION. Follow Sunny Dupont, a gluttony demon as she navigates college life and fanfic writing with the help of her housemates Liam (a qilin she roped in as her beta/editor) and Aron (an ocean naga as a fan). A story of trauma recovery and learning lessons about life and love. If you like: -housemate shenanigans -fanfic/fandom culture exploration -kickass but seriously flawed protagonists recovering from trauma - VOID CAT -LGBTQ+ cast because I can -coffee gremlin cryptid dudes -sweet slow burn romance -lesser known mythological creature representation Then this webcomic is for you to read, and y'all can come read it here! https://tapas.io/series/SunnyxRain/info and HERE https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/sunnyxrain/list?title_no=409335(edited)
Deo101 [Millennium]
Well, Here we go ^^ I have 2 comics right now, so: Millennium: A sci fi adventure featuring two best friends as they seek to help anyone and everyone they can, where we put together a bit of a misfit crew who are all intent on bettering themselves and the world around them. It's a lighthearted, LGBT+ Slowburn The sci fi is soft and so are the characters It's got found family, hurt/comfort, and gentle handling of heavier themes. It's easy to read and shouldn't make you think too much, it's just an hour or two of simple adventure between friends! It can be read a lot of places! My personal site: https://millennium.spiderforest.com/ Webtoons: https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/millennium/list?title_no=110866&page=1 Tapas: https://tapas.io/series/Millennium Comic Fury: http://millennium.thecomicseries.com/ and Tumblr!: https://millennium-comic.tumblr.com/ Time and Time Again: A noir mystery about time traveling vampires! We follow Adam, a vampire, and his subject of study, Steve, the first werewolf/vampire. The two of them are trapped in the 20's, looking to solve the mystery of a missing relic. It's a limited palette, scroll style comic if you're looking for a bit more action and higher stakes, and a more serious tone, then this one might be a better fit for you than Millennium ^^ I'm planning on finishing it up relatively soon, so get in on it now! (It's currently on a short hiatus while school is doing me in) It can only be read on tapas! https://tapas.io/series/Time-and-Time-again
kayotics
Ingress Adventuring Company You can read Ingress Adventuring Company at https://www.ingress-comic.com/ TW: some gore, blood, violence Saving the world is a pretty big deal, but what do you do once you’re done with that and no one needs you anymore? Do you become a magic professor? Do you study a convoluted thesis that no one understands? Maybe you relive the glory days by starting up a one-man adventuring party to gather mystical artifacts for people who may or may not pay you. Or, if you’re Toivo Kissa, you do all of those things. Reasons to check it out! - You like D&D or other stories inspired by it - It’s got bittersweet comedy - Very fun villains - Expressive art - Elves. Just a lot of elves. - Sad Dads and old men - LGBTQ+ cast
maxwestart
Poison Ivy Gulch is hosted on its own WordPress site: http://www.poisonivygulch.com/ Poison Ivy Gulch is a funny Western set in a frontier town in the 1870s. The protagonists are Lotta Doler, a gambler, and her kid sidekick Ace. Other characters include a marshal, an undertaker, a prospector and many extras. Poison Ivy Gulch is a spiritual successor to Tumbleweeds. If you like Blazing Saddles, you'll love this!
sagaholmgaard
Ahh dang, thanks for the heads up!! Here it is: https://tapas.io/series/_Reclaim_ My comic, Reclaim, is about a prince that has to deal with the aftermath of a successful coup. His father is imprisoned and sentenced to death, and he's in hiding with his dear bodyguard. Now he has to save his dad and reclaim the throne from the power-hungry witch warrior Irene, but how can the two of them hope to stand a chance against the entire force of the empire? And what was the real reason for the coup in the first place? This is for people who want a heartfelt fantasy story, with inspiration from Steven Universe and themes around being a better person than you were yesterday, and sticking together through hardships!
PiraPiranha
DEPARTURE is a story about dead brothers, hot guys and competent women! Lights! Camera! Action! The flaws of our predecessors are the burdens that we carry today! As galactic governance has been passed down from generation to generation of divine beings, the wars and insecurities of the previous pantheons are weighing down on our world. Whether it’s vanquishing your greatest enemies, or buying tomorrow’s cereal, keeping this flaming shipwreck of a universe together is going to require a little elbow grease, and a lot of flashy super powers! Follow Kovit, a space fighter turned part-time cook and his friends Casey (Cool, has a nice jacket) and Vermillion (Dumb, has stupid hair) as he tries to help the most powerful beings in the universe keep it together (Ostensibly by beating them up). Check it out here! http://departurecomic.cfw.me/(edited)
seetherabbit
Vulperra is an anthology comic featuring superheros, cowboys and regular common folk in the fantasy world of Vulperra. Most of the stories are about the hero Flash Gauntlet, who travels from place to place to solve problems with his magical gauntlets which were bestowed to him by the goddess of the land. https://vulperra.com/
NAAN
Legendary Beings Ara & Celi is about a young girl, Miyara, who is chosen to be the successor to a specific line of Angels – headed by none other than Ara–and with it, duties that extend beyond the physical world. Only one problem: Miyara has no desire to do the job! What will happen then, especially with Celi, Ara’s counterpart, is intent on causing chaos in her life?! You can read Ara & Celi at its main site: http://ac.jadinerhinestudios.com/ Here is the Webtoons mirror: https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/legendary-beings-ara-celi/list?title_no=59422 Doesn't have any trigger warnings (maybe that (1) page in chapter 2 is too creepy-crawly for anyone?), and it's currently on hiatus because I'm working on chapter 4, will update again when I have completed it! So enjoy the 3 chapters so far! If you like: • MAGICAL GOILS • an old school b&w shoujo manga style (according to some people, and I don't even do it on purpose ) • on that note, since the 3rd chapter, the comic is drawn traditionally! (all covers are in color and traditional) • expressive comedy • language jokes and notes • angels and demons, yes, it's one of those but is anybody really the bad guy here • a lion and a jinn walk into a bar-- • slow worldbuilding and character development • heck if I know what else, you should just check it out and tell me what you think later like in the good ol' days
L Hornsby
Heyo, I haven't been very active. I'm not used to Discord. If anybody would like some silly comics about puppies that live in the clouds and enjoy parties (and also happen to be princesses) my comic Princess Pups has you covered. It's all ages friendly so if you have younger kids you want to get into comics, it's a swell read according to my 3 years old :) https://tapas.io/series/Princess-Pups/info
carcarchu
@L Hornsby oh i didn't know you were in this server! i actually read your comic because our comics have really similar names ahaha
L Hornsby
Oh wow hey there! :)
I usually lurk on Instagram and Twitter these days and have been crocheting more than comics lately
mathtans
What the heck, been on hiatus more than a year but there's an archive and it's not like there's any dangling plot points. I personify mathematics! Because equations are people too. The hairstyles are the graphs, and there are puns.
Main site: http://mathtans.ca/
Tapas mirror: https://tapas.io/series/Any-Q
It's called "Any ~Qs" because notQ is the symbol for irrational numbers. So anything irrational, in a sense. Very G rated - maybe PG, some discussion of biological sex and tangential politics. Enjoy, possibly.(edited)
Spring-heeled Jack
Hey all! My comic is a horror comic that features some LGBTQA+ characters in the main cast. Today is also my monthly update on public sites. I do four pages at the end of the month on Tapas, Webtoons, and my website. (Patreon gets weekly updates.) It is a story of a picturesque town with a dark secret and what will be done to keep that secret. I follow a few characters through the the twisting plot and show how the darker side of this town affects them. I think this would be PG13 mostly because there will be some blood, but there are no sexual situations. Currently Tapas has the most recent free pages as I will have to do Webtoon and the website manually later today. Happy reading and please do let me know what you think! <3 Website: https://www.iamfilledwithstatic.com/crocus Tapas: https://tapas.io/series/crocusheights Webtoon: https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/the-secret-of-crocus-heights/list?title_no=405820 Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/iamfilledwithstatic
DanielHookerArt
I have a series of self published graphic novels. When all copies of the first volume sold out I posted it on Webtoon. It's sort of a Isekai Mystery Adventure, inspired by the 1980's movie Labyrinth.
https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/line-of-ruin/list?title_no=232705
StickFreeks
Hi I'm Christy! I make the webcomic / graphic novel series EXTRA! It's about Extras in the backgrounds of a movie world escaping their fates of getting killed off... by going to go ask the Producer to stop killing them off. (Sort of like The Truman Show, but everyone is in on it.) You can read it at https://extra-comic.com/ I'm always looking to make new comic buddies! (edited)
Annausagi2
Hello! I joined right at the announcement of the channel shutting down, so bad timing. :,O I've been working on my webcomic Helix since 2012: Read from the start here: http://helixcomic.com/ Description/warnings: A street rat is given a second chance when he is dragged from the gutter and into a new life. Will he accept his position at the side of royalty, or fight every step of the way? -Rated M for sex (M/M, consensual), violence, nudity, language, and dark themes.- Warnings: -References to child abuse and sexual abuse.- If you can handle these subjects, I hope you'll enjoy the comic. :) Thanks for reading! UPDATES EVERY WEDNESDAY! ~ Support me on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Annausagi2 ~ Join us on Twitter: https://twitter.com/Annausagi2
Kalli
I joined right when things were shutting down too :( Just my luck Anyway! I'm Kalli and I have a fully traditionally drawn webcomic, called World of Ruan! https://www.worldofruan.com/ It's a post apocalyptic, sci fi adventure type story, following Cait, a mutant mouse/human hybrid and Roxy, her robot companion! I update every Saturday~ And I'm always down for meeting new comic friends!
Cap’n Lee (Flowerlark Studios)
I make Children of Shadow: Ashes and Dark Wings: Eryl. Ashes is an urban fantasy / horror about teens with supernatural powers who have to team up with woodland critters to save the world from twisted monsters. It’s rated PG-13 and has mild language, graphic violence, and intense scenes. Eryl is a dark high fantasy about a fallen angel, a woman on a journey to find a dragon, and a wyvern who has been kidnapped. It’s rated 16+ and contains strong language, nonsexual nudity, and graphic violence. https://twitter.com/kickyourwrasse/status/1277315129793826816?s=21
Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)
Only In Your Dreams! is a rom-com Drama comic featuring shoujo and future LGBT+ elements. Also a mainly BIPOC cast! Rated: PG16+ There are some suggestive language & content, and partial nudity. “Cara Luong is tired of her failed dating attempts and settles for Richie, her imaginary lover every night in her sleep. When given a chance to meet him in person for the first time, she suddenly forgets their long-term romance! Now it’s up to Cara to decide if Richie can live as a real boyfriend. That is, if she wants him to exist in the first place!” What it contains: - Dumbassery moments between a dreamer and a dream boi - Expressions that you can feel it in your soul - Main romantic interest participating in healthy masculinity and embracing femmine traits - horror elements in a romance comic? huh-- - Himbo appreciation - A mixed-Black Vietnamese protag for this romantic rollercoaster lol If you're looking something self indulgent, read it why don't you? I release pages early on patreon! https://www.patreon.com/tuyetnhip Otherwise you can check out the site! It updates once bi-weekly on Wednesdays usually! http://oiydcomic.com/ Tapas: https://tapas.io/series/Only-In-Your-Dreams Webtoon: https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/only-in-your-dreams/list?title_no=115046 Other links: https://linktr.ee/oiydcomic
alizarin
I joined near the end of the server but I can't wait to participate in the reboot! So many interesting comics in here * _ * I make a comic called Patent the Sun, it basically reads like a big puzzle. It's about two characters who wake up without any memory, but slowly we learn about their whole universe and what happened to them. Oh and there's also magic, aliens, murder, and crossdressing https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/patent-the-sun/list?title_no=123560 https://tapas.io/series/Patent-the-Sun(edited)
Las Pinter
It is a pity that I was not so active here. I create the Tales From Somewhere comics, currently there are two of them: The Legend and The Secret. Both of them are high fantasy stories taking place in a fantasy world. The Legend is about three adventurers trying to survive in their realm. They are aware of being DnD like characters in a cruel world, where the DM wants to kill them as fast as he can... without luck so far. It has some comedy, action, horror and weird elements. This comic is ongoing since a long time, so expect to have big changes in the style and writing. The Secret is about an elf, who begins his journey from the world's end after an apocalyptic event. Accidentally meets a human thief girl, and now they are travelling together and figuring out what is happening to their world. This comic is currently being revamped and the story is continued parallelly. I would rate them R/17+ since they have some blood, violence, profanity and nudity. Website: https://www.talesfromsomewhere.com/ Tapas: - The Legend: https://tapas.io/series/Tales-From-Somewhere-The-Legend - The Secret: https://tapas.io/series/Tales-From-Somewhere-The-Secret Webtoons: - The Legend: https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/tales-from-somewhere-the-legend/list?title_no=77159 - The Secret: https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/tales-from-somewhere-the-secret/list?title_no=78355 And I'm on Twitter: https://twitter.com/thelaspinter
quietsnooze
Radio Silence is an award winning queer coming of age webcomic about a British rock band’s rise to fame. Hitting the road on a journey of self discovery and acceptance, this coming-of-age tale gives a backstage look at friendships and the plights of fame as experienced by a modern British rock band. On the fast track toward fame, the five members of the fictional British rock band, Radio Silence, enter into an exciting new life on the road with their best friends. As they tour across the United Kingdom, they excitedly embrace this new lifestyle and all the resulting challenges, including living in close quarters with each other with little privacy, and the overwhelming reaction of the public to their new-found success. Main site: http://radiosilencecomic.com/ Webtoons: https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/radio-silence/list?title_no=35242 Twitter: http://twitter.com/quietsnooze
Tired Programmer
This is mine. There will be update tomorrow (in 10 hours). https://tapas.io/series/The-story-of-how-humanity-has-thrown-itself-into-the-scrapyard Civilization, technologically advanced in the past, is now in decline. Killer and hacker are trying to survive and find the answers to their questions among the ruins. What will they meet in this crazy and cruel world of misused technologies? WARNING: strong language, violence and nudity. Only for adults.
JUNK
If any creators or readers are looking for another webcomic server to hang out in, you can check out this one: https://discord.gg/qjWJt7
I'll post it in the general channel too. :3
sierrabravo (Hans Vogel is Dead)
I wish we could have had a bit more time, but thanks everyone for creating such a great space for webcomic creators!! I make HANS VOGEL IS DEAD: an antifascist fairy tale with elements of historical fantasy. A German fighter pilot is shot down and killed during the Battle of Britain. When he wakes up in a fairytale afterlife, he learns what the evil he served has destroyed, and must undo the damage of fascism to become a better person. The end of Volume 1 is coming in the next two weeks, and September will be the fifth anniversary! You can read it on Webtoons: https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/hans-vogel-is-dead/list?title_no=62633 and find me on twitter! https://twitter.com/chjorniy_voron
Haruh2 (Colony Life)
This was such a great discord, hopefully we can keep in touch and still chat about comics and such my twitter is : https://twitter.com/Haruh2 Here is my comic Colony Life, ive been working on this for abit and will always love making this comic no matter what https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/colony-life/list?title_no=193784
boniae
I regret that I wasn't more active in here besides occasional lurking, but I always think back fondly to the CTP chat that my comic was discussed in, it was the first time I ever got to see so much in depth feedback and analysis on my comic and I will forever appreciate this server Four Corners is set in 1995, Yokohama, as the story follows Kazuhiro Tsuchiya who now leads his deceased brother's legendary gang, the Four Corners. Kazuhiro is approached by Hideki Yuhara, a schoolmate who claims to have vital information that Kazuhiro should be wary of. The two unlikely delinquents pair up to figure out the reason as to why gangs in the city are being brutally eliminated...though the unraveling of the mystery is darker than it appears. How far will Kazuhiro and Hideki go to rest their case? If you're looking for a slow burn lgbt romance, 90s manga nostalgia, drama, mystery, and a story with a general theme of: misfits who come together against dangerous odds to protect others, especially the ones they love—come check it out! https://tapas.io/series/four-corners/ http://fourcornerscomic.com/ https://twitter.com/boniaeart
snuffysam (Super Galaxy Knights)
I'll really miss having a new comic to read every week! My comic is called Super Galaxy Knights Deluxe R. It's a story of a small woman from a small town who goes on adventures across a strange kingdom. Action, comedy, and very, very slow burn romance... http://sgkdr.thecomicseries.com/ https://tapas.io/series/sgkdr https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/super-galaxy-knights-deluxe-r/list?title_no=41795
LeahVillart
I haven't done much work or anything in general these past months because they've been utter shit for me. This year had stuff breaking in my home, my grandma died from covid, family issues, found out my 9yo dog has lymphoma (blood cancer) and I got to a break point and I'm trying to recover from all the shit. Now it's late and I'm tired so I'm gonna make a super sleepy pitching~ I make Teach Me To Kill a horror-comedy webcomic about a school of villains and killers where a new seemingly innocent teacher arrives to help the worst class become the horror legends they are "destined" to become. [IN ENGLISH AND SPANISH] If you like contradicting/opposite genres or themes you'll find it here, violence, blood, kills, but all done with a cute colorful style where nothing is as it seems. With a cast made of crazy humans, detectives, monstergirls and guys like -our sexy looking hybrid vampire Daki who didn't ask for any of the cards she's been dealt and only wants to find true love and not something attracted by her vampiric aura. - Our lil raven kid Nayla who is a sugar bomb ready to explode, but can break a mountain in two. - Kyllian, a boy who's managed to make a personality out of each of his expressions, which sometimes is helpful and others a horrible mistake. - Q.Bee, an innocent looking girl who radiates sensuality in some weird way luring her victims into her trap. You never know what she's thinking or could do at any moment. the cast and world is really huge and don't want to spoil more, but it's filled with slice of life, mystery, action, dark humor, romance, fantasy, paranormal stuff. A total mix. If you give it a read, thanks for doing so and hope you like it! <3 http://teachmetokill.com/(edited)
Comic Tea Party
This concludes our final #creator_babble chat. Thank you so much to all the wonderful creators who have participated in this chat over its existence. It has been great to see your enthusiasm for the craft of webcomics, as well as learn your unique stories of how you pursue it. We are positive these conversations have helped many other creators out, so we appreciate you having them. For this conversation, and all past #creator_babble chats, you’ll be able to find them archived here: https://comicteaparty.com/creatorbabble
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crue-sixx · 5 years
Text
Hungry Like A Wolf
Title: Hungry Like A Wolf
Author: tiddly-winx
Fandom: The Dirt (Motley Crue Movie)
Summary: The reader is bitten by a big dog, but she's in for more than just an infection.
Warnings: Swearing, Blood, Gore, Sickness, Smut. Animal Death, Werewolves
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It was Halloween, the band's favorite holiday.  You guys went all out, decorating the apartment, making your costumes with whatever you could find and throwing them together last minute.  Of course you stocked up on candy-both for you all to eat and to pass out to the kids in the building.  You and your boyfriend Tommy were handing out the candy, and when the trick-or-treating hours had concluded, the real tricks would start.
Nikki had bought five dozen eggs a month ago and let them rot, planning on having you all throw the putrid stink bombs at adult passerby who happened to be roaming around.  You all had it planned out-two on the left, two on the right and one sitting in a tree or on the roof.  You were with Tommy on the right, Mick and Vince to the left and Nikki up high.  You bombarded a few groups of teenagers who were bullying younger kids for their candy.  The little bastards deserved it. 
The stink exploded on impact, causing the pizza faced boys to gag and scatter.  "That's what you get for bein' mean to little kids, assholes!" Nikki shouted from up top.  The teenagers all cursed and vowed revenge, but you all knew it was an empty threat. 
When all the eggs were spent, you kissed Tommy on the cheek and said "Go on back to our room, Babe" you said winking "I gotta go pick something up for your treat tonight" he grinned, knowing full well that he was getting a special sex session tonight.
"Why didn't you just have it delivered or pick it up earlier?" he whined, not wanting to wait for his Halloween Treat.
"Because" you eyed them all "Most of you guys like to try and ransack my drawers for my underwear" except for Mick, they all nervously laughed and glanced down.  "And I didn't want the surprise to be spoiled" you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him tenderly.  He of course returned the gesture with aplomb.
"Hurry back, Y/N" he said, not wanting to let you go but he had to.
"I will, Tommy" you blew him a kiss, to which he caught it and sent it back.  Nikki and Vince made mock gagging gestures and Tommy laughed at that.
You were on your way to the shop that was open late tonight when you had to cross the park to make a short cut.  It was like Central Park in New York, but considerably smaller.  You could see your destination just on the other side when you heard a rustling in the bushes.  You turned and saw a rather large dog, you didn't think anything of it and tried to go on your way, but a supernatural force pulled you back to stare into it's eyes.
Your heart rate slowed down and you entered a dreamlike state.  The dog's eyes were yellow and looking at you like you were it's next meal.  You were in a trance, the creature having reared up and walking on two legs like a human.  You knew you should have been terrified and run off, but the power keeping you there made that impossible.
You could smell and feel it's hot steamy rank breath as it exhaled on you.  It's fangs were dripping with saliva and you could see it's mouth twisting into an ugly snarl.  It then howled and lunged at you, knocking you over.  The sudden movement snapped you out of the trance and you screamed for help.  The thing clamping down on your arms with its jaws and scratching at your belly with claws so sharp it could cut diamonds.
It would have killed you if someone hadn't blown it's brains out just as it was going in for the kill.  Your neck was exposed and it was about to bleed you dry when you heard a crack of thunder and then a pink misty cloud of blood and brain matter splattered the white rose bushes, painting them a brilliant red.  The shooter stepped forward, a young teen boy right after him. "What should we do about 'er Pa?" asked the boy in a nervous tone.
"Let's put 'er outta 'er misery" the older man cocked the shotgun and pointed it at you.
You had tears running down your face as you tried to speak "Please no..." when you heard more people coming your way with flashlights.
"Damn it!" the older man cursed "Grab the beast boy and hightail it outta here!"  The son did as his father bade, and they left you to bleed.  It wasn't long however when a group of police officers came to your aid and radioed for an ambulance. 
In your blood loss induced state of delirium, you asked "Why did they paint the roses red?  They're gonna lose their heads..." before you finally passed out.
Back at the apartment, they were all getting worried.  They knew where the sex shop was-they all frequented it for condoms and various other sex novelties.  It didn't take two hours to get there and back.  Tommy was pacing around in circles cracking his knuckles."Where the fuck is she?" he felt the worry puke coming on.
"Relax" Nikki tried to reassure him "Maybe there's a long line at the check out counter or something..."
Then the phone blared.  An ominous pressure filled the room as they all stared at it.  When the phone rights at two in the morning, nothing good ever happens.  Tommy picked it up and said "Y/N?"
"No" an unfamiliar voice answered "Is this Tommy Lee?"
"Yeah" he had to steady himself on the table.  From the expression on his face, they all knew it couldn't be good.  They waited in uncomfortable anticipation for more information "Who're you?"
"I am Doctor Finkle from L.A. General.  Do you know a woman by the name of Y/N L/N?"
"Yeah she's my girlfriend" his voice cracked "Is she okay?"
"I cannot say exactly" the sound of papers shuffling "from the police report, it states that she was attacked by a large animal in the park and was just bought into our operating room for emergency surgery.  Please get here as quick as you can..." it sounded like you didn't have much time left, and Tommy bolted for the door without even hanging up the phone or putting shoes on.  The rest of the guys followed him and he filled them in on the way in the car.
When they finally got there, Tommy ran in, knocking over a nurse with a cart full of medicine.  "Y/N L/N!" he wheezed, out of breath "Is she still in surgery?!"
The receptionist typed in your name and your status was stated next to it "Yes, she is.  The O.R. is on the fourth floor.  Please fill out a visitors-" he wouldn't let her finish, him sprinting to the elevator and pressing the buttons repeatedly.  His rational mind knew that pressing the same buttons over and over again wouldn't make the damn thing go faster, but his emotional side was nervously twitching.
"Come on, damn thing..." the others caught up to him as the doors opened and he went in, repeating the previous motions of button mashing the fourth floor button.
A passing orderly was unfortunate enough to be within reaching distance of Tommy's arms.  He grabbed the poor unsuspecting young man and shook him violently "Y/N L/N!  Where is she?!  Where's the fuckin' doctor?!"
Dr. Finkle heard the voice he had spoken to fifteen minutes ago and came out in scrubs, fresh from surgery "Mr. Lee?"
Tommy's head snapped to him and he said "Dr. Finkle?!"
"Yes, that's me.  If you'll stop terrorizing my orderly I can fill you in on your lady friend's condition" Tommy let the trembling man go, offering him an apologetic look.  "The consultation room is this way" he motioned with his hand to a small room that could only fit two maybe three people.
Tommy went in and sat with him while Mick, Vince and Nikki watched from the waiting room trying to read their lips.  Dr, Finkle looked haggard, he had been working all day on idiotic drunkards who had gotten themselves into ridiculous situations.  Most of them were minor injuries, cuts and scrapes that the patients INSISTED were broken bones.  But this woman was the real deal, her blood tests showed no alcohol or any other substances in her system.  She was just a poor soul in the wrong place at the wrong time.
"How is she, Doc?" Tommy's voice cracked, on the verge of tears.
"She's stable" the doctor answered.  Tommy breathed a sigh of relief.  "She lost a lot of blood, but we were able to stop the bleeding and replace what she lost.  She'll be alright, she just needs a few days in here to recover and to make sure she didn't get any diseases of whatever animal attacked her" he took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes.
"What's the damage?" Tommy wanted to be ready for what he was going to see.
"She has extensive bite marks on her arms-most likely defensive wounds-some deep.  She also has claw marks on her chest and abdomen, but those are superficial.  They're not much concern at this time."
Tommy swallowed hard and asked "When can I see her?"
"In about ten minutes.  She's being settled into her room right now.  The anesthesia may last longer than that, but that's to be expected" he took off his glasses and added off the record "you can stay as long as you want.  I recon that you'll be the first person she wants to see when she wakes up..."
"Thanks Doc" he was very appreciative and shook his hand "For taking care of my girl..."
"She's in room 509 on the recovery floor" the doctor added.  She should be settled by the time you get up there" they then parted ways, Tommy grateful for the man who saved his lover's life.
The others got up when they saw him come out, the waiting game being too much for them "How is she?"
"She'll live" Tommy said flatly "Go on back to the apartment, I'll stay with her" they looked at each other uneasily and agreed.
"Do you want us to get you anything before we go?" Mick asked, being uncharacteristically empathetic.
"Nah, I'm good.  I'll just have the shitty coffee and snacks to hold me over" he tried to smile, but it was very weak and unconvincing.  They reluctantly left but they knew he needed alone time with his girl.
You were still in your drugged sleep when he came in.  He thought he'd mentally prepared himself for what he might see, but he was wrong.  Most of your upper body was bandaged up like a mummy, but your head was still visible.  He let out a few whimpers before breaking down like a lost child.  "Y/N...Baby..." he took your hand and held it.  "I'm so sorry...I never should have let you go alone..."
You were starting to wake up then, saying "Don't beat yourself up, Tommy" he jumped, startled at your quick recovery.
"Y/N!" he was both happy and perplexed "How are you awake so soon?!"
"I heard you crying and thought I'd wake my lazy ass up and see what's going on" you smiled at him, still groggy from the drugs.  He was just so happy that you were okay, that he leaned down and gave you the sweetest, softest kiss he ever did.
"I love you" he confessed through his sobs, snot dripping down his face.
"I love you too, Tommy" you reached up to try and clean his face, but you were seeing triple and couldn't tell which Tommy to wipe.
"I got it, Babe" he laughed and wiped his face.
All the tests came back negative for any animal borne diseases, and you were clear to go back to the apartment.  Tommy was there by your side all the while, the guys bringing him clothes and toiletries so he could be clean.  He hated being able to smell himself and it was nasty.
The guys had a small party when you came home, just the five of you and a little welcome home cake.  You thanked them and had a few beers, Tommy leading you away from them to make love to you in a proper fashion.  He gingerly touched your scars and kissed them, You tried to shy away from his touching them but he insisted "They're a part of you now, and I love everything about you..."
"Tommy..." you sighed a ragged breath of carnal desire.  "Fuck me..."
"Don't gotta tell me twice"  you were already so wet from just him touching you that he didn't need to do anything like oral or fingering.  He was rock hard too, so he just slid inside easily.  He let out a gasp of pleasure and commented "Oh fuck baby you're tighter than usual..."
"Well, I have been out of practice for a week" you whispered into his neck before kissing it.  You then felt a strange savage second nature begin to wash over you.  You smelled his blood pumping through his veins.  You wanted him.  His flesh.  His meat.  You were able to push the urge down and he continued to fuck you.
"Jesus Fuckin' Christ" he moaned into your mouth "You feel hotter too..."  he grunted loudly "my dick's on fire...fuck" he had you against the wall, holding onto you tightly.  You turned your ass to him.
"Do me from behind Babe" you groaned and dug your nails into the plaster.  He happily obliged, liking this new angle.  You could hear his balls slapping against your ass gently, serving to draw the both of you closer to your climax.
"Oh God" Tommy gasped, bucking his hips wildly "I'm gonna fuckin' cum..." you quickly pulled away from him and took him into your mouth, deep throating him as he pumped his seed down your gullet.  He held your head in place, his own falling back in exhausted pleasure.
After you had swallowed his semen, you looked up at him and said "Was that hot for you baby?"
"So fuckin' hot Y/N" he was panting "I could feel your nose against my stomach..." he gulped hard "I love it when we try new stuff in the bedroom..." he picked you up and kissed you tenderly.  He was spent, but you hadn't finished.  You didn't care about that, you had your man with you and that's all that mattered.
The next morning, you smelled the sweet aroma of frying meat.  It lulled you out of bed and into the kitchen where Tommy was making breakfast.  "Mornin'!" he greeted, but you didn't answer.  You smelled the raw bacon on the counter and couldn't take your eyes off it.  Your mouth began to water, just the thought of tasting fresh meat driving you mad with ravenous hunger.
You scooped up the raw meat and tore into it like a wild animal, your teeth making it easier to shred than before.  Tommy watched you in amazed horror, then put a hand on your shoulder to stop you from eating raw meat.  You snarled at him, your eyes full of pure rage at having your meal interrupted. "The fuck you want?!" your voice wasn't just your own, but a deep throated. rolling growl.  You were so pissed that he'd interrupt your meal like that!  You imagined ripping out his esophagus and making his intestines your meal but you realized how fucked up that was and calmed down.
He was actually scared to respond at first but he said "Dude, you're eating raw meat...that's got bacteria in it..."
"Erm...right..." you put down the raw meat and looked down "sorry..."
He gave you a strange look, but let it go.
Things went back to normal for a few weeks, then exactly one month after the attack you fell ill.  First, you were burning up and sweating buckets.  Then the vomiting when you had nothing in your stomach.  Everyone thought it was just the flu and they stayed clear of you, Tommy bringing you soup and some crackers.
Then your insides started burning, and the vomiting turned more violent.  It was when you saw blood in the toilet that you started to panic.  "Tommy!  I need-" a new round of blood vomit came but this one actually hurt.  It was then your skin started to itch-like tiny bugs were crawling all over the surface.  You started scratching.
Tommy had heard you call for him, and when he came in the bathroom, he saw you clawing at your arms "Y/N, what the fuck?!" he grabbed a towel "You're bleeding!"
"I'm just so itchy..." you brushed him off and continued to scratch, drawing more blood from your body.
"Fuckin' stop!" Tommy grabbed both your hands to keep you from doing more damage.
"Tommy what the fuck's going on in there?!" Nikki shouted.
He didn't have time to answer, you had stood up, whipped your head back and headbutted him, breaking his nose.  Nikki and Vince burst through the door when they saw the carnage.  They stared speechless, Tommy knocked out on the floor and you bloody with your muscle meat on display.  "T-Bone!" Nikki went to his fallen friend, and you had thrown up blood all over him.
You were then on the ground twitching.  They thought you were having a seizure and Tommy was trying to help you, but then they saw your features begin to change.  Your bones began to break on their own, your skin tore away from your frame, the largest organ of the body unable to contain the new growth.  In it's place, coarse fur and animal skin grew.  Your nose elongated into a snout, fangs protruding  where your teeth once were.
Nikki and Vince didn't wait around to see what was happening next, instead grabbing Tommy and dragging him out of the apartment and hauling ass out of there.  You-or whatever version of you that was followed them down the hallway on all fours.  "Holy shit!" Tommy had woken up and was staring a behemoth of a dog in the face.
The thing had leapt up, ready to completely devour them all when a soft whistling was heard, then a yelp from the animal and then the thing skidded across the floor.  They looked up and saw Mick with a hunting rifle, but a tranquilizer dart in the animal's thigh.  "What the fuck was that?" Tommy asked.
Nikki and Vince looked at each other, unsure to what to say.  They knew what they had saw and weren't on anything that would make them see that.  Mick spoke up and said "That's Y/N.  She's a werewolf" as easily as saying "Pass the fuckin' potatoes".
"What the fuck?" Nikki whispered.
"How do you know?" Tommy looked at Mick.
"Shut up and watch, Drummer" he said, and you started shrinking back to normal size.
"H-how is this possible?" Tommy stumbled back, his broken nose the least of his worries.
"It was on Halloween when she was attacked.  A few of my buddies heard about werewolf activity in the area and decided to check it out" he pulled the dart from your thigh, you giving a small yelp of pain as he did so.
"How do you know all this shit?"  Vince questioned "Werewolves and all that crap are just myths!"
Mick took a long while to respond, but when he did "There are things that go bump in the night, boys.  I'm one of the ones who bump back" he grabbed you by your foot and began to drag you across the floor.
Tommy got up and shouted "Hey!  Where you takin' her?!"
"To a place where she can turn and not hurt anybody" he took you down the stairs, being careful not to smack your head against them.
"You're not takin' my girl anywhere without me!" Tommy grabbed a hold of his arm, but Mick gave his signature glare and he backed off.
"You really want to be around the thing who just tried to eat you?" he asked sarcastically.
"She's not a 'thing' Mick!  She's my girlfriend!"
"Get that nose looked at first, then I'll come back and take you to her.  I promise..."
Tommy let him go, Nikki and Vince having been shell shocked into silence.  After he got cleaned up, Tommy waited for Mick to come back,  When he did, he kept his word and took him to the police station.  "Mick why the fuck are we here?"
"To see Y/N" he gave an unfamiliar hand gesture to a guard and he let them in a secret passage.  At the end of the passage, there was a group of fortified cells with all sorts of giant dogs in them of varying colors and ferocity.  Then at the very end, they saw you in your human form, still knocked out from the drugs.
"What did you shoot her with?" Tommy asked, caressing your face.
"Wolfsbane" Mick answered "It reverses the transformation and makes them sleep it off.  Too much will kill them though" he slipped a freshly dead goat into your cell, to which Tommy gagged.
"How do you know about this Mick?  I mean really?"
"My family have been monster hunters for generations"  he washed his hands of the blood "Going all the way back to Abraham Van Helsing and Dracula" he loaded his shotgun with a round of silver bullets and waited.
"Hey, what are you doin'?" Tommy protested.
"If she wakes up and turns again, then there's no hope for her.  I'm going to put her out of her misery" he cocked the gun.
You woke up a few hours later, still your normal self.  You were confused about your new surroundings.  "Good!  You're awake and you!" Mick smiled warmly.
"What happened?" you asked "Why am I in this dank cell?"
They had explained what happened, you not believing them until you talked to Vince and Nikki, then seeing the damage of the bathroom for yourself.  You certainly didn't want to die or kill anyone, but you couldn't resist the transformation.  "What do I have to do?"
"Keep track of the lunar cycle and lock yourself up in the cells when the full moon comes around" Mick answered "eat all the raw meat you can get to control the hunger."
You looked at Tommy and started to cry.  "Baby what's wrong?" he hugged you close to him.
"I tried to kill you guys" you sobbed into his shirt "I can't be around normal people anymore!"
"Are you breaking up with me?" Tommy whispered quietly.
"No, but I understand if you want to break up with me..."
"Babe, the thought never crossed my mind" he pet your hair.
"You sure?"
"Of course!  If I wanted to leave, I'd be gone by now!" he smiled down at you.  "We just got to get used to the new you..." he grinned into a kiss.  You remembered how great the sex was the last time you did it with him, and that seemed to quell the beast inside you for a moment, but you knew that at any time, your inner wolf could strike and you counted on Mick to put that silver bullet in you before you could harm anyone.
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dramyhsturgis · 4 years
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Halloween Countdown 2019, Day 12
It’s film time! Every year about this time I think about good Halloween films (not necessarily horror movies, and definitely not lame slasher pictures, but suspenseful, atmospheric films that put a chill up the spine) that are “off the beaten path” – that is, films that are independent, foreign, direct to DVD or VOD, or somehow under promoted, and thus might easily slip under the proverbial radar. Not the classics. Not the usual suspects.
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I’ve already made a separate post in the past with recommendations of Anton Yelchin’s Halloween-friendly films, so I won’t repeat those here.
Now I have a few new recommendations to add to my list, based on this past year’s viewing. (We accessed nearly all of these via Netflix or Amazon streaming.) Here they are in reverse chronological order:
The Hole in the Ground (2019): This spooky little Irish film links a little boy’s strange behavior to a mysterious sinkhole in the Irish countryside. We automatically try any horror film with James Cosmo in the cast, and as usual, this one did not disappoint. Bleak, claustrophobic, and chilling. 
Us (2019): Jordan Peele’s latest wasn’t exactly under the radar, but wow, it was *good*!
Clovehitch Killer (2018): Set and filmed in Kentucky, this film follows a teen’s gradual realization that his father (an amazingly, disturbingly convincing Dylan McDermott) is the local area’s still-at-large serial killer. We loved this one!
The Devil’s Doorway (2018): I’ll start by quoting IndieWire: “The film’s director, Aislinn Clarke, is the first women to helm a horror film in her native Northern Ireland. But apart from making history, Clarke also chose to mine one of Ireland’s darkest chapters for her debut: the Magdalene Laundries, where young women were sentenced to life sentences of hard labor for ‘loose morals’ for nearly 250 years.” This found-footage horror film is one of my favorites of the year, despite (or because of) how wrenching it was to watch. It’s a perfect example of how the genre has the power to raise questions as well as deliver scares.
Down A Dark Hall (2018): This U.S.-Spanish film is based on the supernatural horror novel of the same name by Lois Duncan, and it rises above its trite girl-sent-to-creepy-boarding-school origins to offer something stylish and clever. We weren’t expecting much from this and ended up really enjoying it. 
I Still See You (2018): Not great but not bad, either, this is an adaptation of the teen-centric Break My Heart 1000 Times by Daniel Waters. After a tragic explosion at a top-secret laboratory, the dead victims appear daily as ghostly "remnants” repeating the everyday actions of their lives -- except for the remnant who wants to either warn or harm the film’s young heroine. 
The Little Stranger (2018): I quite liked this claustrobic and disturbing character study, whereas my better half found it to be more style than substance. Either way, Domhnall Gleeson, Ruth Wilson, and Charlotte Rampling wandering around a disintegrating house is as Gothic as it gets.
Our House (2018): After his parents die in a car crash, science genius Ethan drops out of college to care for his younger siblings but keeps experimenting in the family garage. His latest invention may do more than he expects, however... such as establish contact with the dead. It won’t win any awards, but it’s worth watching if you like a little science fiction twist to your horror.   
The Lodgers (2017): This is a standout, unlike any of the others we watched this year. Highly recommended. Gothic, dreamlike (or nightmarish), Lovecraftian to the core. I don’t want to say too much, so I’ll just quote the official description: “In this Gothic supernatural thriller, a family curse confines orphan twins Rachel (Charlotte Vega) and Edward (Bill Milner) to their home as punishment for their ancestors’ sins. Bound to rules derived from a childhood nursery rhyme, they must never let any outsiders into the house, be in their rooms before midnight, and never be separated. Breaking the rules would let the wrath of ‘The Lodgers’ who prowl the corridors at night.”  
Prodigy (2017): A psychologist and a genius girl engage in a life-and-death battle of wits. This tense, smart film is a perfect example of how little expensive sets or flashy effects (or the lack thereof) matter as long  a filmmaker has a quality script and solid cast of actors. Also, here’s further proof that kids are always creepy.   
Jessabelle (2014): Sarah Snook doesn’t get nearly enough appreciation for her acting, and I was delighted to see her in this atmospheric film that ticks all the boxes of the Southern (specifically Louisiana) Gothic. Joelle Carter’s turn as Jessie’s dead-from-a-brain-tumor mother speaking to her through old videotapes also deserves special mention. Well worth watching.
Wind Chill (2007): A woman student (’the girl’) at a Pennsylvania university uses the campus ride share board to find a ride home (”the guy”) for Christmas. You won’t hear “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” the same way again. Not the best of this bunch, but worth a peek.
Dark Water (2005): This is the U.S. remake of the Japanese film of the same name, and it stars Jennifer Connelly, Tim Roth, and John C. Reilly. It’s definitely spooky enough in its own right, but it’s downright terrifying if you know anything about the case of Elisa Lam. Highly recommended.
Below are recommendations from previous years.
Here are my 2018 recommendations:
Cargo (2018): This Australian post-zombie-apocalypse story is a haunting study of family and sacrifice. Martin Freeman is always worth watching, and Simone Landers is fantastic. The film offers compelling depictions of both humanity on the raggedy edge of tragedy and the perseverance of Indigenous Australians.  
Searching (2018): I was so stoked about this film that I saw in the theater, and it didn’t disappoint. Smartly written and tightly plotted, this missing-family-member tale takes twists and turns that echo the best of Hitchcock. John Cho is brilliant. While the story is all about cyberspace and social media, technology is not demonized; it makes both the dilemma and its solution possible. Humans are the source of the scary stuff – and the redeeming stuff. This is one of my favorite films of the year.    
Winchester (2018): Helen Mirren is the haunted Sarah Winchester in the iconic Winchester House in 1906. Don’t overthink this. It’s spooky. It’s Helen Mirren. You’re welcome.
Ghost Stories (2017): This looks like a debunker/skeptic-investigating-unsolved-mysteries anthology film, with each “file” offering a story within a story, but then it goes somewhere else, deeper and darker. This is not the best film we saw this year, but I was fascinated, all the same.  
Marrowbone (2017): This (English-language) Spanish psychological horror film is another standout we strongly recommend. I plan to use this in class the next time I offer my Gothic course. Rose flees Britain with her four children and tries to disappear into her secluded, dilapidated family home in the rural United States. Then she dies, leaving her children on their own to continue hiding from… what? As the mystery unfolds, this film goes from haunting to unforgettable. I will be rewatching this one again and again.
The Ritual (2017): The film is based on the 2011 novel of the same name by Adam Nevill. The Scandinavian wilderness is the real star here, and it delivers a pervasive sense of doom as the reunited college pals, after the tragic loss of their mutual friend, hike their way straight into ancient Scandinavian mythology. Part Lovecraft, part Wicker Man, part guilt-and-redemption morality tale.    
I Am the Pretty Thing that Lives in the House (2016): The live-in nurse suspects her elderly employer’s house may be haunted. This sounds trite, but my husband and I agree that this quiet, elegant, slow-burn masterpiece is one of the best films we’ve seen in a good while. (The film’s director, Osgood Perkins, is the son of Anthony Perkins.) Don’t miss this film.  
The Autopsy of Jane Doe (2016): This is director André Ovredal’s first English-language film. What you might assume is a gorefest subverts expectations nicely to become a claustrophobic piece that operates on suggestion more than effects. Father-and-son coroners examine the body of an unidentified woman, and as the autopsy unfolds, so does the sinister supernatural mystery. Did I mention Brian Cox is the father? That’s why we gave this a chance, and we’re glad we did!
Train to Busan (2016): Huge thanks to Ryan for this great recommendation. This South Korean film proves that the secret to an engrossing zombie apocalypse story isn’t zombie-related special effects, but rather compelling characters, their relationships, and their struggles to survive and avoid zombiedom. I think I may have held my breath through at least half of this fast-paced and moving film.
Backtrack (2015): This Australian film is part horror, part mystery, and part dark night of the soul for the psychotherapist protagonist (Adrian Brody), who suffers from nightmares and visions as he mourns his dead daughter. Did I mention there’s a ghost train? And Sam Neill? This won’t change your life, but it’s definitely worth watching.
The House of the Devil (2009): This is a loving tribute to 1980s horror, especially babysitter and “Satanic panic” tales. It was even shot with 16mm film to give the movie a retro look. If you are of a certain age (as I am), this may put a goofy grin on your face (as it did for me).
The Reaping (2007): This is one of the weakest films on this list, but Hilary Swank, Idris Elba, David Morse, and Stephen Rea are all solid in whatever roles they take, and the over-the-top, “What hath God wrought?” nature of the Biblical plagues visiting the Louisiana bayou pushes it to the boundary of so-bad-it’s-good territory.  
Here are my other top recommendations from recent years:
Dig Two Graves (2017): This award-winning indie has big-budget quality thanks to several factors: it was executive produced by actor and director Larry Fessenden, its crew was selected by the Independent Filmmaker Project, and the production involved the Southern Illinois University film department and the community of the film’s Southern Illinois location. We tend to give anything with Ted Levine a chance, and the gamble certainly paid off with this small-town U.S. suspense thriller. It tells the story of a young girl’s obsession with the death of her brother, taking her on a nightmarish journey where she must a face a deadly proposition to bring him back. The title refers to an ancient Chinese proverb: “When you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves!” Recommended!
Get Out (2017): I know, I  know, this is hardly “under the radar.” But it deserves its reputation and success, and I wanted to take the opportunity to say so.
The Girl with All the Gifts (2017): This is also not “under the radar” but worth an emphatic recommendation.
Little Evil (2017): I have a low tolerance for comedies in general, and especially for comedies that laugh at genres I love. On the other hand, I need little persuasion to believe that one of the scariest things on the planet is a kid! Little Evil is such a loving, clever, and knowledgeable send-up of the “evil child” trope that it won me over.
Abbattoir (2016): This dark and imaginative U.S. film follows a real estate reporter as he investigates a mysterious old man who is assembling a haunted house constructed from rooms in which people have died. It’s not a great film, but it has its moments.
Dark Signal (2016): This British film, set in Wales, covers two different but linked tales. In one, a radio DJ and her engineer (Torchwood’s Gareth David-Lloyd) invite a psychic to be their special guest on their very last broadcast, and in the other, a listener of the show is haunted by the victim of a serial killer. Effective atmosphere and chills.
Lavender (2016): This is an imperfect film, but it earns points with me for creepy rural “American Gothic” atmosphere. After losing her memory, Jane visits her childhood home at the suggestion of her psychiatrist – the home where the rest of her family was massacred. She begins to see unexplained things and strange clues within her photos that suggest she may be responsible for the deaths.
The Boy (2016): Although it has its moments of predictability, on the whole this one satisfies. Greta is a young American woman who escapes an abusive relationship by getting a temporary job as a nanny for a British family. When she arrives at the parents’ home, they introduce her to their son, Brahms. Brahms is a porcelain doll who is treated like the living child he replaced after the real Brahms’ childhood tragedy. Things get really weird from there in a mostly satisfying “this is how you go crazy” kind of way. Not perfect, but worth seeing.
The Forest (2016): Natalie Dormer stars as twins in this supernatural thriller about one sister searching for the other, who is presumably lost in Japan’s Aokigahara Forest. My husband and I are on the same page about films about 95% of the time, but this is the one on which our opinions diverged this year. He found this to be trite and mostly short on substance. I was looking mostly for the chilling atmosphere of the so-called Suicide Forest and the acute sense of vulnerability that comes with being alone in an emergency in a foreign country, so I didn’t mind the movie’s (over)reliance on this, and I found the ending twist related to the twins’ backstory to be effective. Your mileage may vary.
Sacrifice (2016): If Rupert Graves is in it, then I watch it, no exceptions. That’s just how I roll. He stars opposite Radha Mitchell here in an adaptation of the novel Sacrifice by Sharon Bolton. Set in the Shetland Islands, this horror film fits in the Wicker Man category of ancient rites surviving intact in remote locales, and it effectively captures a nightmarish scenario: men using women to have sons and then, according to their old traditions, yielding them up as a kind of human sacrifice. Mitchell and Graves relocate to the Shetlands, where Mitchell’s character unearths a “bog body” of a woman who had recently given birth and then been murdered in a ritualistic fashion. Mitchell and Joanne Crawford, portraying a local police sergeant, drive the investigation to bring justice to this woman, and in the process find their own lives at risk. The film has its flaws, but it’s refreshing to see a genuinely spooky film with a genuinely feminist bent, and all of the leads are compelling in their roles. The scenic locations provide atmospheric settings for the eerie goings-on.
The Veil (2016): Twenty-five years after members of Heaven’s Veil, a religious cult, commit suicide, a documentary filmmaker contacts the sole survivor to film a work about what really happened. A Fangoria review describes the premise as the idea “that Jim Jones could have been right,” and that pretty much sums it up. The film doesn’t quite live up to such an ambitious premise, but the whole “investigating the cult after the fact” aspect, on site and with found footage, is so downright disturbing that this supernatural thriller still works well enough in the goosebumps department. Or to put it another way, the film radiates a sense of wrongness – in part, no doubt, because it skirts so closely around tragic real-life events – that it sticks with you.
They’re Watching (2016): This is a film in the blood-soaked horror comedy oeuvre, which is not usually the way I roll, but I found this more palatable than most. The crew of an American home improvement TV show goes to Moldova to film a segment about an American woman who is transforming a run-down, isolated dwelling into an artist’s haven, only to discover that the locals consider her (not without reason!) to be a witch. This isn’t going to win any awards, but it doesn’t take itself too seriously, and its parody aspects are on point.
Amnesiac (2015): This tells the story of a man who wakes up in bed suffering from memory loss after being in an accident, only to begin to suspect that his caretaker, who claims to be his wife, may not be his real wife and may not have his best interests at heart. Wes Bentley won me over as the bewildered protagonist, and good heavens, Kate Bosworth as the “wife” really brought the chills. Stylish, understated, and slow-burn spooky.
10 Cloverfield Lane (2015): Between you and me, this is the scariest film I’ve seen in ages. I’m sure the twists are common knowledge by now, but just in case they aren’t, I won’t say anything except this is absolutely ideal for the Halloween season – or anytime you want your brain turned inside out and goosebumps on your skin. Hats off to John Goodman, Mary Elizabeth Winstead, and John Gallagher Jr. for bringing the tense, claustrophobic script to vivid life. You need to see this!
Estranged (2015): January is forced to return home after six years traveling abroad, because a near-fatal accident has left her temporarily wheelchair bound and depleted of her long-term memory. At the mercy of those who claim to be her loved ones, isolated from outside help, she tries to discover the truth about her past and her present. This is smarter and more complex than we expected it to be, very Gothic in tone and execution.
Krampus (2015): This irreverent horror film, in which a boy who is having a bad Christmas accidentally summons an old-world Christmas demon to wreak havoc, is not for everyone, but if you’re like me, and you’d trade Christmas for Halloween any day of the week, it’s a lot of fun. Think of it as the evil Mirror Universe version of It’s A Wonderful Life.
The Reconstruction of William Zero (2015): A geneticist who wakes up from an accident with only fragments of his memory must relearn who he is from his twin brother. But the deeper he digs, the more he realizes that he may be wrong about who he thinks he is – and who he thinks his twin is. Variety review compared this sad tale of human cloning and human frailty to a story by H.G. Wells, and that sounds about right. It’s not a perfect film, but it’s a good example of thoughtful indie science fiction.
The Similars (Los Parecidos) (2015): If you love the weird, if you are a fan of The Twilight Zone, then you owe it to yourself to see this wonderfully original Mexican movie immediately. We watched this on a lark, and it became one of our favorite films of the year. A group of people are trapped by a hurricane at a bus station around the time of the Tlatelolco massacre in 1968. As the passengers wait for a bus to arrive, they are horrified to find that everyone’s face is changing to match. Why? Don’t miss this!
They Look Like People (2015): The longer we watched this indie psychological thriller, the more we liked it. It builds and builds and builds. It stars MacLeod Andrews as a man who believes that humanity is being secretly taken over by evil creatures (think of a slow and simmering episode of The X-Files in which Mulder or Scully never manage to arrive on the scene), and it won a special jury award at the Slamdance Film Festival.
The Visit (2015): This is a found footage horror film written, produced, and directed by M. Night Shyamalan. I know that Shyamalan can be hit or miss, but this was much more of a hit. A brother and sister are sent for their vacation to visit their grandparents, which is a gesture of reconciliation, as the family has been estranged. While there, the siblings become increasingly frightened by their grandparents’ disturbing behavior. The kids are compelling, and their isolation is palpable. The twist, when it comes, it terrific.
The Witch (2015): This film is like watching a colonial American nightmare come to life (which is not for everyone, but definitely was for me). The production team worked extensively with English and American texts and museums, and they consulted with experts on seventeenth-century English agriculture as well to bring early reports and imaginative depictions of witchcraft alive in a gritty, realistic setting. I’ve read some of the texts that inspired the film, such as those referenced in and created by the witch trials, and I was transported and enthralled by this dark and disturbing work. It rations its moments of gruesomeness for absolute impact and relies heavily on suggestion, underscoring the choking paranoia and claustrophobia of the Puritan existence. Not for those faint of heart or short of attention span.
Stonehearst Asylum (2014) Based on a tale by Edgar Allan Poe and starring Ben Kingsley, Michael Caine, and Kate Beckinsale… need I say more? In the words of Film Journal International, “While the film lacks the macabre humor of the original story, it does an excellent job of conveying the creeping horror of Victorian medicine.” Delicious.
As Above, So Below (2014) I know I’m in the minority here, but I really loved this film. A trip by urban explorers into the Parisian catacombs becomes a journey of alchemical transformation. Okay, this had me at “Parisian catacombs,” but I was delightfully surprised by characters actually being smart in a crisis, having meaningful backstories, and seeking redemption along the way.
Housebound (2014) This New Zealand horror comedy about a woman under house arrest in what may be a haunted house was a morbidly pleasant trip, alternately wacky and spooky.
The Incident (El Incidente) (2014): This fascinating Mexican film follows two parallel stories about characters trapped in illogical endless spaces – two brothers and a detective locked on an infinite staircase, and a family locked on an infinite road – for a very, very long time. This is psychologically, if not physically, a real (and powerful) trip.
Cut Bank (2014) This small-town murder thriller may err on the predictable side, but outstanding performances by the likes of Bruce Dern, John Malkovich, Billy Bob Thornton, and Liam Hemsworth make it memorable.
Oculus (2014): We watched this for Longmire’s Katee Sackhoff and Doctor Who’s Karen Gillan. We ended up agreeing it was one of our favorite movies of the year. A young woman is convinced that an antique mirror is responsible for the death and misfortune her family has suffered. This is beautifully crafted horror.
Alien Abduction (2014): This is the film I mentioned in my post about the Brown Mountain Lights. It’s a found-footage film done right, with scenes that reminded us of Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Signs, The Blair Witch Project, and The X-Files. Its restraint in showing very little of the aliens is a strength. Be sure to watch through the credits!
Europa Report (2013): For my money, this is the best science fiction film of the last year. Gravitycan’t begin to compare. This recounts the fictional story of the first crewed mission to Europa, one of Jupiter’s moons. Despite a disastrous technical failure that loses all communications with Earth mission control and a series of dangerous crises, the international crew continues their mission to Europa and encounters a baffling mystery. All SF fans must see this.
The Happy House (2013): It’s the bed and breakfast you always dreaded - and that’s on a good day. This is not a good day. This quirky, clever serial-killer comedy works unexpectedly well thanks to its dark, restrained script and compelling characters.
The House at the End of Time (2013) This Venezuelan horror-suspense film is a must see. I don’t want to spoil it in any way. This may be my favorite pick from 2015. You want to see this. You do.
Haunter (2013): This Canadian film is about teenager stuck in a time loop that is not quite the same with each revolution. She must uncover the truth, but her actions have consequences for herself and others. This one really surprised us (in a good way). Shiver inducing and well worth watching.
How I Live Now (2013): Ably adapted from the award-winning novel by Meg Rosoff (which I really liked), this dreamlike film follows fifteen-year-old American Daisy, who is sent to stay with cousins on a remote farm in the United Kingdom just before the outbreak of a fictional third world war. I don’t know why this haunting apocalyptic work didn’t receive more attention, because it deserved it.
Jug Face (2013): This wins the original premise award. There’s no way to describe the film that doesn’t sound bizarre, but it’s unexpectedly compelling. A teen girl who is pregnant with her brother’s child tries to escape from a backwoods community, only to discover that her people have determined that she must sacrifice herself to a creature in a pit. (Be warned about the subject of miscarriage.)
The Numbers Station (2013): This is a British-American action thriller about a burned-out CIA black ops agent (John Cusack) assigned to protect the code operator at a secret American numbers station somewhere in the British countryside. I suspect the poor reception this received is because it’s more quiet, melancholy, and introspective than the run-of-the-mill action-mystery. Of course, that’s why we liked it.
Mama (2013): This is a Spanish-Canadian treat based on the Argentine Muschietti’s Mamá, a 2008 Spanish-language short film of the same name. Young children can be disturbing. Young children abandoned in the woods for several years and raised by a (territorial and possessive) spirit can be doubly so.
Dark Skies (2013): This wasn’t the very best spooky film we saw this past year, but it was far, far better than I’d anticipated, and it scratched that “alien abduction” itch of mine that’s been troubling me ever since The X-Files left the small and big screens.
Haunting in Connecticut 2: Ghosts of Georgia (2013): This stand-alone story works independently of its prequel. It’s not an unproblematic film, but if you have a taste for Southern Gothic, it’s worth a look.
House Hunting, also released as The Wrong House (2013): What a surprise this psychological horror film was! Quite the mind game. Home-shopping families visit an empty farmhouse… and the house keeps them there.
After (2012) When two bus crash survivors awake to discover that they are the only people left in their town, they work together to unravel the truth behind the strange events. A bit saccharine, but worth seeing.
Citadel (2012) I’m still not sure what I think about this Irish psychological horror film, but months later I’m still thinking about it, so that’s noteworthy in itself. I’m now horrified of high rises for an all new reason.
Extracted (2012): This thought-provoking indie SF film considers a scientist whose consciousness becomes trapped in the mind of a convict who volunteered to be a part of an experimental procedure. This is another cerebral tale well worth seeing.
Last Kind Words (2012): Brad Dourif movies are always a part of Halloween, or at least they should be. Seventeen-year-old Eli has just moved with his family deep into the backwoods of Kentucky to work on the isolated farm of a local recluse. Inexplicably drawn into the strange forest that lies beyond the farm, Eli encounters the beautiful, sweet, and mysterious Amanda, seemingly the perfect girl. But with the discovery of decaying bodies hanging from the trees, he realizes that the forest - and Amanda - are harboring some very dark secrets. If a horror film can be called lovely, it’s this one.
Resolution (2012): Two long-time friends end up in a remote cabin, and I dare not say more. This subtle Lovecraftian film hinges on great characterization and suggestions of an unseen force that “manipulates reality to create interesting stories.” Don’t expect solid answers to the mysteries of this tale. This is a personal favorite.
The Wall (2012): This elegant Austrian-German film haunted me for a good long while. A woman visits with friends at their hunting lodge in the Austrian Alps. Left alone while her friends walk to a nearby village, the woman soon discovers she is cut off from all human contact by a mysterious invisible wall. With her friends’ loyal dog Lynx as her companion, she lives the next three years in isolation looking after her animals. Understated and affecting.
The Tall Man (2012): I love it when a film goes in a direction I didn’t foresee, and this French-Canadian mystery-thriller one did it again and again. In a small, poverty-stricken former mining town, children are disappearing on a regular basis. The abductions are blamed on a local legend called the “Tall Man.” One of the standout favorites of the year for me, this one asks some uncomfortable and thought-provoking questions that keep you thinking long after the film is over.
The Last Will and Testament of Rosalind Leigh (2012): This little Canadian film serves up some effective atmosphere. An antiques collector inherits a house from his estranged mother only to discover that she had been living in a shrine devoted to a mysterious cult. Soon he comes to suspect that his mother’s oppressive spirit still lingers within her home and is using items in the house to contact him with an urgent message. Vanessa Redgrave’s voice-overs as the late mother add depth to the spooky visuals.
In the Dark Half (2012): This was the first of three micro-budget movies to be made in Bristol, UK under the iFeatures scheme. Despite its humble beginnings, this is an absolutely riveting and deeply soulful work. Young Jessica Barden gives a particularly brilliant performance. Bad things are happening in a run-down working-class town, where a young woman is convinced that something nasty is out to get her. But she’s also struggling with conflicting feelings toward her hard-drinking neighbor, whose son mysteriously died while she was babysitting him. One of my favorites from this year.
Sinister (2012): After moving to a new town, a true-crime writer discovers a cache of videotapes depicting brutal murders that took place in the very house he just bought. As he tries to solve the mystery behind the crimes, a sinister force threatens his own family. I’m sort of breaking my own rules here, as this wasn’t an under-the-radar film, but merely hearing the music for this movie creeps me out!
Paranorman (2012): Okay, this wasn’t exactly an off-the-beaten-path film either, but it’s so wonderful, I had to list it. A perfect “feel-good” movie for Halloween!
The Awakening (2011): If I had to recommend one new(ish) film for this season, this would be it. Gorgeously done from start to finish. In post-World War I England, a boarding school haunted by a boy’s ghost calls on Florence Cathcart, who disproves hoaxes for a living. But Cathcart senses something truly strange about the school, leading her to question her belief in the rational.
Whisperer in Darkness (2011): You can’t go wrong with the H.P. Lovecraft Historical Society’s adaptations of Lovecraft’s stories. This is a “talkie” instead of a silent film (like the HPLHS’s Call of Cthulhu, and it works well.
Sound of My Voice (2011): Wow. I mean, wow. This is high on my list of favorite viewing from this year. In this psychological thriller, journalists Peter and Lorna undergo an elaborate preparation process in order to infiltrate a cult, leading from a desolate road to an unmarked location, but the mystery only deepens when their blindfolds are removed. This is a smart, chilling film with just the right touch of cerebral science fiction.
Ghost from the Machine (2010): After his parents die, Cody, an inventor, becomes obsessed with finding a way to contact them once again. Tom, a local scientist who lost his wife, becomes interested in the project and helps Cody. Together, they discover that Cody’s invention can cause ghosts momentarily to reappear as flesh and blood. What follows is a dark and moving study of human nature.
True Nature (2010): This is another film that really surprised me, to my delight. This tells the story of a family reunited when their college-age daughter is found after a year-long disappearance. With no memory of what happened to her, she soon discovers that her very presence threatens to expose the secrets and fragile lies by which her family has lived.
Womb (2010): This stark, minimalist, quietly haunting film stars Eva Green and Matt (“Eleven”) Smith, both of whom turn in subtle performances. A woman’s consuming love forces her to bear the clone of her dead beloved. From his infancy to manhood, she faces the unavoidable complexities of her controversial decision. I found this to be wrenching, disturbing, and darkly beautiful. Full disclosure, though: my husband found it to have more style than substance.
Extraordinary Tales (2013): Several of my students recommended this to me, and I’m grateful that they did! This is an anthology film comprised of five different animated adaptations of Poe’s stories, namely “The Fall of the House of Usher” narrated by Christopher Lee, “The Tell-Tale Heart” narrated by Bela Lugosi, “The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar” narrated by Julian Sands, “The Pit and the Pendulum” narrated by Guillermo del Toro, and “The Masque of the Red Death” – my favorite – which is eerily and beautifully silent. Despite uneven narration quality, due to the age of some of the audio recordings, this is terrific fun for Poe fans.
These Final Hours (2013): Wow, this one unexpectedly blew us away. A meteor has collided with Earth in the North Atlantic, and that leaves about twelve hours before the final global firestorm reaches Western Australia. In Perth, bad boy James leaves his pregnant girlfriend to try to drown his fear at “the party to end all parties,” but his life abruptly changes when he comes across a young girl being attacked. This is a delicate and powerful story of character growth and redemption in the face of the biggest horror of all: the end of all things. Highly recommended.
Woman in Black (2012): This one isn’t “off the beaten path” by any means, but I enjoyed it so much I’m noting it anyway. It’s a rare example of a film adaptation that changes the ending of its source text and in fact improves the story.
Another Earth (2011): On the night of the discovery of a duplicate planet in the solar system, an ambitious young student and an accomplished composer cross paths in a tragic accident. This is one of my very favorite films of 2012.
Absentia (2011): A woman and her sister begin to link a mysterious tunnel to a series of disappearances, including that of her own husband. This is my other top favorite of 2012.
Exit Humanity (2011): A young man struggles to survive in the aftermath of a deadly undead outbreak during the American Civil War. This is a period zombie film with a heart and a brain. There’s zombie-related gore, but it serves the purpose of the story.
Cabin in the Woods (2011): Five friends go for a break at a remote cabin in the woods, where they get more than they bargained for. Together, they must discover the truth behind the cabin in the woods. Joss Whedon wrote this, and that’s probably enough said right there. This turns all the classic horror tropes upside down.
Hobo with a Shotgun (2011): In this satirical film, a homeless vigilante played by Rutger Hauer blows away “crooked cops, pedophile Santas, and other scumbags” with his trusty pump-action shotgun. Warnings for gore and adult content. This is a dark and wry tongue-halfway-but-only-halfway-in-cheek dystopia.
Some Guy Who Kills People (2011): This is a horror-comedy about a small town loser fresh out of an asylum who seeks revenge on those he deems responsible for ruining his life. Unexpectedly poignant and character-driven.
The Last Exorcism (2010): A troubled evangelical minister agrees to let his last exorcism be filmed by a documentary crew. I was unexpectedly enthralled with this; it twisted and turned in directions I didn’t anticipate, and its ending is straight out of a Lovecraft story. Highly recommended. Note(!!!): The 2013 sequel is a terrible mess. Don’t waste your time.
Tucker and Dale vs. Evil (2010): “Good old boys” Tucker and Dale are on vacation at their dilapidated mountain cabin when they are attacked by a group of preppy college kids. This is ridiculously clever as it plays into and subverts classic horror scenarios. I laughed out loud.
YellowBrickRoad (2010): In 1940, the entire population of Friar, New Hampshire walked up a winding mountain trail, leaving everything behind. In 2008, the first official expedition into the wilderness attempts to solve the mystery of the lost citizens of Friar. There’s gore here, but far more psychological horror. The premise would’ve made a fine Twilight Zone episode. My husband felt the ending was a disappointing cop-out, but I give it props for originality.
The dark fantasy Black Death (2010): Set during the time of the first outbreak of bubonic plague in England, a young monk is tasked with learning the truth about reports of people who are immune to the sickness in a small village, allegedly made so by “witchcraft.” What follows is a dark fable that considers evil and love, loyalty and death, faith and fate. Excellent turns by Sean Bean, Eddie Redmayne, and a strong supporting cast really bring this to life (pun intended), and I was more than pleasantly surprised by the atmospheric eeriness and thoughtful tragedy of this film. As Alan Jones from Film4’s “FrightFest” said about the film, “This intelligent original represents a commendable break from the genre norm and is one of the most powerful films made about God, the godless and what the Devil truly represents.”
Color Out of Space (2010): This is an absolutely brilliant adaptation of H.P. Lovecraft’s “The Colour Out of Space” set in Germany. We thought this was amazing. Beautiful visual storytelling. Even if you’re not one for subtitled films, do give this a try, especially if you know and appreciate the source material.
Dorian Gray (2009): I don’t believe this was ever widely released in theaters in the U.S. I thought it was quite well done, true to the spirit if not the letter of Oscar Wilde’s story, admirably restrained with the special effects, and graced by compelling performances by Ben Barnes, Colin Firth, and Rachel Hurd-Wood. It’s perfect for the Halloween season, to my way of thinking.
The Brøken (2008): This understated doppleganger film plays out much like a modern-day Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Quiet and disturbing, and I mean that in a good way.
The Burrowers (2008): This is a brilliant independent science fiction/horror Western that was short on cheap gore and long on psychological terror (just the way I like it), and we thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it. Highly recommended.
You can’t miss the brilliant, quirky, lovingly satirical films of Larry Blamire (thanks to marthawells for the recommendation), which are “must see” material, including The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra (2004) and its sequel The Lost Skeleton Returns Again (2009), as well as the standalone films Trail of the Screaming Forehead (2007) and Dark and Stormy Night (2009) - I simply can’t praise these enough.
The Lazarus Project (2008): A former criminal gets a second chance at life and mysteriously ends up working at a psychiatric hospital where nothing is at it seems. Terrific psychological piece. I don’t know why this didn’t receive more attention and praise.
Painted Skin (2008): This Hong Kong/China production is not the easiest film to find with English subtitles, but it is well worth the effort. Set sometime in the late Qin or early Han dynasty in China, a fox spirit consumes human hearts to maintain her youth and beauty. She falls in love with her human rescuer, however, who already has a wife he adores. This is a beautiful and bittersweet film about love, sacrifice, and deadly magic, with a haunting score… and Donnie Yen. Win, win, win!
Another well worth watching is the Finnish historical fantasy/horror/morality play Sauna (2008 - thanks to mr_earbrass for the recommendation).
We also quite liked the surreal dark fantasy Franklyn (2008), as well as
the chilling, true crime-inspired Borderland (2007),
the Spanish science fiction thriller Timecrimes (2007),
the moody, Lovecraft-inspired Cthulhu (2007),
the gorgeous, silent Lovecraft adaptation The Call of Cthulhu (2005),
the U.S. Civil War-era dark fantasy/horror Dead Birds (2004),
the dystopian psychological thriller Final (2001),
Imprint (2007): Can you hear their cries? Shayla Stonefeather, a Native American attorney prosecuting a Lakota teen in a controversial murder trial, returns to the reservation to say goodbye to her dying father. After the teen is killed, she hears ghostly voices and sees strange visions that cause her to re-examine beliefs she thought she left behind. This is a solid independent film with a gifted Native cast.
Wicked Little Things (2006): This is a film about the Appalachian children who died in a mine coming back to haunt the mine-owner’s descendants. It’s exactly what it says on the tin, no real surprises. What sets this apart is beautifully atmospheric shots of the woods and a spectacular sense of place. Visually memorable.
House of Voices, also released as Saint Ange (2004): This French-Romanian film is a sophisticated mind game that kept me utterly fascinated and glued to the screen. A young cleaning woman is dispatched to tend to a crumbling orphanage called Saint Ange that houses only one child. While going about her duties, the new housekeeper begins to witness supernatural occurrences, causing her sole co-worker, a cook, to question her sanity. Whatever you expect this to be, I guarantee it will surprise you.
Breaking Dawn (2004) No, this is not that Breaking Dawn. This is cerebral little film that rewards careful watching. Dawn is a young medical student is charged with uncovering the murder of a mental patient’s mother. Or is she? Well crafted and satisfying. And spooky.
Below (2002): This is a World War II-era horror film that makes great use of the claustrophobia of submarines to create a chilling mood, very atmospheric. If you like Star Trek’s Bruce Greenwood (and who doesn’t?), you’ll want to see this.
and Last Night (1998): (Thanks to penfold_x for the rec!) In Toronto, a group of friends and family prepares for the fast-approaching end of the world. This apocalyptic film starts out like a dark comedy but ends much more like a serious drama. It won three Genie Awards, including a Best Actress for Sandra Oh, and I see why. She really shines here, and her last scene is stuck in my head. If you like to ponder how you would spend your very last – and the world’s very last – night, try this.
Your mileage, of course, may vary.
Okay, you’re turn: what under-the-radar, off-the-beaten-path, Halloween-friendly films do you recommend?
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violetsmoak · 5 years
Text
Tabula Rasa [2/?]
AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20183281/chapters/47822500
Blanket Disclaimer:
Summary: Tim and Jason have known they are soulmates for years, though neither has said anything about it. Tim thinks Jason doesn’t know, and is just trying to live with it. Jason thinks Tim knows but doesn’t care, which is fine with him, he thinks the soulmate thing is a crock anyway. But one night, a minor mishap forces them to confront the issue head-on, leading to a series of events no one could have predicted.
Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)
JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #bright vivid colours #danger #enemies to lovers #soulmate aversion #soulmark tattoo
First Chapter
Beta Reader: I’ll get back to you on that.
________________________________________________________________
Tim is exhausted.
It’s not the semi-permanent fatigue he’s been living with ever since becoming a vigilante, the ‘constantly tired about something’ background noise of his life. It’s more of an utter doneness with everything.
His head is pulsing like someone took an icepick to his left eye and punched through to his brain stem, and he’s got a bit of fever. Damian’s cat bit him in the early hours of dawn when he stopped by the Cave to drop off some intel. It’s taking his antibiotics longer to kick in than he’d like.
He’s been in meetings since seven this morning discussing the next year’s budget, sitting across the boardroom from the old guard of shareholders and Bruce. Bruce, who’s been attending more of these meetings in the past month with the implied goal of scrutinizing every move Tim makes. He spent hours today grilling Tim on every judgment call, made him argue for every cent of allocated funds and second-guessed projects months in the making.
And then the board members—even those who disliked Bruce—joined in and it was like a fucking ambush.
Tim didn’t even have someone in his corner to give him five minutes of breathing room, and he’s never missed Tam so much as at that moment. But she asked to transfer to a different department not long after the whole faking her father’s death thing. Tim doesn’t want to call her in for matters he should be able to handle himself.
Kon’s canceled their plans to hang out this weekend because he forgot his and Cassie’s anniversary. It was meant to be a videogame and junk food fueled marathon, and Tim had been looking forward to it for two weeks now. It’s the third time this month they’ve had to call rain check.
Though to be fair the last two instances were because I got dragged into something Bat related and time-sensitive.
At this point, all he wants it to get home, eat a whole pizza himself and sleep for at least eight hours. He’s even picking out toppings as he heads for his car in the employee parking lot.
So, of course, that’s when the notification system on his phone chimes. Patched into the GCPD frequencies, he’s informed that Killer Croc is rampaging in the University District.
And at City Hall?
Crash!
And apparently now in the WE Building.
“What the hell?”
The lingering staff members scream and flee to their offices, barricading themselves in as the growling, pebble-skinned thing bursts out of the nearby stairwell.
Okay, that’s not Killer Croc, but it looks a heck of a lot like him. Maybe shorter.
The elevator bell dings, opening on an empty car, drawing the snarling man-shaped beast’s attention. It makes an immediate run for Tim, who backs into the elevator and glances upward; there’s a cage across the ceiling to block access to the ceiling panels, the spaced between the metal lats wide enough to reach his fingers through.
He bends and jumps up, swearing at the bite of metal as he grabs hold of the grille, just as the creature barrels into the elevator. Tim uses the momentum to plow his knee into the creature’s jaw.
Its head snaps backward, blood spraying as it bites down on its tongue, but it doesn’t pass out as Tim had hoped. Right as it’s gearing up to take another run at Tim, there’s thwip! sound and two darts lodge themselves in its throat from somewhere outside.
The croc-person goes rigid and passes out. A moment later, Bruce strolls down the hallway toward him as casually as if he’s heading to dinner. He folds a compact knockout dark gun back into his breast pocket. Luckily for them, all of the doors remain shut tight and there are no windows for the other employees to see any of this.
“What did you hit him with?” Tim wants to know.
“Carfentanil,” Bruce replies, stepping over the unconscious body and reaching for the thumbprint scanner at the bottom of the elevator panel. “Lucius will see to that one.”
He engages the override to skip every floor on the way down to the sub-basement.
“What’s going on?”
“Based on Batgirl’s intel, some idealistic grad student wanting to change the world. She believed the best way to kick-start the proletarian revolution was to mix Waylon Jones’ DNA with a version of Langstrom’s prototype serums, test it out on the homeless and then release them in various locations considered to be bourgeoisie strongholds of Gotham.”
Tim blinks at that. “Eat the rich?”
“Somehow I doubt that’s what Rousseau meant.”
The elevator vibrates as it speeds downward, and Bruce considers Tim out of the corner of his eye. “How long has it been since you slept?”
Twenty-three hours.
“I’m fine, B.”
“You were nodding off during the presentation by Powers Tech.”
“Because Warrick Powers is a pedantic drone that’s rehashing all of the same proposals he made last month. Even you were playing Candy Crush on your phone for half of it.”
Bruce’s expression doesn’t change. “Anyone going out tonight has to be at their best. Killer Croc is a challenge on a good day, but Oracle’s saying there have been a dozen sightings of these hybrids—”
“All the more reason you need me out there,” Tim cuts him off. As the door to the elevator opens, he strides away before Bruce can offer reason he doesn’t want Tim going out tonight. He’s been questioned enough today at work, he refuses to be called out on his night job.
Things go from weird to complicated to unbelievable within hours. As it turns out, Killer Croc is involved…but he’s working with them for once. Red Hood’s voice comes over the comms early on to caution everyone not to go after him unless he makes a move on a civilian.
“Arsenal vouches for him,” he insists, and things are so crazy no one has time to argue with him. Everyone separates into their various zones, though corralling the croc-man-bat hybrids often has them overlapping with one another.
It takes all night.
By the time the last of the test-subjects has been subdued, ready for transport to a treatment facility, dawn is just peeking over the edges of the buildings. Tim’s body aches like one big bruise. He’s got something bigger than a cat bite that needs treatment, and if his head hurt before, now it’s like his brain is bubbling out of his skull.
Everyone has checked in, which is a relief, but everyone sounds like they’ve been put through the wringer. Those that Tim can see look even worse.
Batman is on the ground, conversing with Commissioner Gordon, and from the way he’s standing, it’s clear he’s taken some damage to his ribs. On a rooftop in the distance, Tim can see Robin with his arms crossed, cape in ruins and shoulders hunched inward. He doesn’t have to see the kid’s face to know he’s scowling. Beside him, Red Hood is laughing, helmet missing and body armor ratty and torn. Tim taps his visor to magnify his vision. Hood’s entire left arm-sleeve is gone, along with the gauntlet, and he’s bleeding from a wound above his bicep.
But he doesn’t seem bothered by it. He even reaches out to ruffle Robin’s hair, then easily dodges the knife the kid swipes at him. There’s a flicker of relief that flits through Tim to see him unharmed.
Despite their past, despite the fact Jason avoids him, Tim still tries to stay hopeful about the whole thing. It’s possible things will get better and they can be friends one day, or at least tolerate each other in the way Jason and Damian do. He could handle that.
“Well that was fun,” Steph groans, dropping down beside Tim on his chosen rooftop. “I need to sleep for the next six weeks, though.”
“What are you, a groundhog?” Duke quips, alighting on the other side of him.
“If it gets me out of midterms, hell yes. Just…not the same day over and over thing.”
“I don’t understand,” Cass sighs. “Either of you.”
The usual post-Arkham-level emergency banter starts up, all snarky jokes and witty rejoinders and Tim’s just…not in the mood.
“I’ve got a final sweep to do before turning in,” he mutters. He doesn’t care if anyone hears him as he hops over the edge of the building and grapples away. There’s some chatter and questions in his ear, but he ignores it.
His adrenaline from the night’s activities is dropping, and the exhaustion he was experiencing earlier in the day is hitting him like a Mac truck. He doesn’t even want the pizza anymore, just the sleep.
There’s a dreamlike quality to the way he sways through the air like he’s not actually present in the moment. Perhaps he’ll skip the last leg of patrol too, tonight. And he can write the incident report up tomorrow, and—
Right as he hits the highest arc of his swing, there’s a snap and sudden give to his line.
It should be an automatic thing, hauling out his redundant grapple gun and fixing it to a new anchor point. This is all about timing, a practiced movement all of them trained for before Bruce even let them out of the cave.
And yet.
It’s as if time slows for just a moment.
As if he has all the time in the world to contemplate the intricacies of each separate action, the pull of his muscles and movements of his fingers. Or even the ramifications of simply letting himself fall.
For that one moment, Tim isn’t Red Robin or Tim Drake-Wayne or any number of things he’s supposed to be, he’s just. There. Existing in a void of sound and sensation, adrenaline blocking it all out, weightless and empty.
Floating.
A sudden desperate wish hits him to freeze everything like this, at this high-point forever. To stay forever frozen in the peace of a not-quite-flight.
Gravity pulls at him then, making his stomach flip, and he reaches for the redundant grapple, even as he realizes he’s too slow. The air rushes past him, the ground rises to meet him and he’s still drawing out the line, and it will be too late—
As he’s about to hit to point of no return, something clasps around his arm and yanks. Someone wrenches Tim up and forward, a hand grasping his whole forearm in a vicelike grip and it’s reflex for his fingers to clasp around it. Warmth tingles in his fingers and radiates the entirety of his arm, like laying his hand on his own personal sun. As they swing through the air, Tim’s eyes fall upon the literal lifeline that saved him.
The first thing he sees is a swirl of red and gold, the familiar winding knotwork pattern of his soulmark.
Except it’s not his.
Jason’s left arm and shoulder are bare, the mark blossoming seemingly out of nowhere halfway up his forearm. But Tim recognizes the uneven streak of hastily applied cover-up from wrist to elbow-crease—because it turns out, Jason covers his mark at all times as Bruce does.
The warmth in Tim’s hand and arm grow, stretching tendrils of heat through his body, but it burns the most where he and Jason touch. Steph once described the sensation as a lock and key interlinking, and he finally understands because there is a very physical click inside him, like tumblers slamming into place.
It’s distantly familiar, and he wonders if he might have experienced this before, but couldn’t focus on it due to being bleeding out at the time. The way their marks reach and wind about each other now, Tim doesn’t believe there’s any way for it to be ignored anymore.
His heart flutters at the idea.
Then Jason is swinging them to the nearest rooftop and abruptly lets Tim go, snatching his hand back the instant his boots hit the gravel. Tim stumbles forward, barely stopping himself from tumbling to his knees from the momentum.
He skids around to face Jason, who is already turning away, shielding the mark. When he faces Tim again, the colors recede once more beneath the spray cover-up.
“Geeze, Replacement. You gettin’ enough sleep?” he asks lightly, mouth crooked. “You almost let yourself become pavement art.”
Tim blinks, still a little lost in his head.
“I mean, I’m sure you could have engaged those tacky wings of yours before the worst happened, but cuttin’ it kind of close, don’t ya think?”
Tim’s not really thinking anything. His eyes are on Jason’s arm, where the colors of his mark have already slipped away. Because Jason is putting a very conspicuous space between them. And asking something inane, as if he’s trying to distract him.
Which he shouldn’t be doing.
He saw the mark. He would have felt what Tim felt. It should be a shock, he should be confused or angry or surprised—
Tim freezes in realization.
“You’re not surprised,” he says, the words somehow disconnected from his mouth.
“Surprised about what?”
Tim bristles at Jason’s feigned ignorance now, indignation rekindling some of his spark. “Seriously? You’re just going to—you’re really going to pretend we both didn’t see that? That we both don’t know…?”
“I think that fight rattled you,” Jason says, slow and placating. “How many times did you get hit in the head tonight?”
“You didn’t even flinch!” Tim snaps, taking a step forward. “If you hadn’t known, it would have surprised you! You might have dropped me, or yelled, or…”
Jason is backing away now, not even trying to disguise his intention and Tim darts forward, hand snatching to grab hold of Jason’s wrist. Incredible gold and deep scarlet bands of color creep up his left arm, threading along the capillaries of his skin, connecting the freckles and scars across his bare arm. There’s a corresponding warmth in Tim’s right wrist and arm.
Before either design can fully manifest, though, Jason snatches his hand back and punches Tim in the chest.
“I’m not a fan of handsy guys,” he says, though his joke is lost in the ice of his tone.
Tim barely reacts to the blow, because he’s had worse from Jason, and right now, he’s honestly too furious to register it.
“You knew the whole time, didn’t you?” he accuses.
“Knew what—?”
“Don’t! Don’t lie! You’ve known—you had to have known ever since the day we met, at the Tower!” There is no argument this time, only a head-on gaze. “And you never said anything.”
“Well, it’s not like you did either,” Jason defends, discomfort coloring each word.
And there’s the confirmation; it’s more of a blow to the gut than Jason’s punch. It’s an aching, gnawing hurt, and Tim tries to tamp it down, tries to focus more on the simmering rage that is welling up alongside it.
“Because I didn’t think yours had activated,” he manages to get out. “At the time I didn’t think you were capable of…I thought if I said anything, you’d…you hated me then, and—” Comprehension smacks into him. “That’s why you didn’t bring it up, isn’t it? And then the other night, when I said all that. About soulmates. You knew what I thought about it, and that’s why you didn’t say anything.”
Jason coughs, backing away again. “Okay, glad we cleared that up.”
“If you’d said something—if you’d even acknowledged it, maybe—”
“‘Maybe’ what?” Jason challenges. “We’d magically be on track for a house and picket fence and adopting our own passel of neglected orphans?”
“Wait!”
“Yeah, no, I’m over this—”
“Jason, don’t—” He reaches out once more, hand clamping down on his shoulder and in his madness, he’s forgotten everything he knows about Jason and personal space. It all comes back in a rush when he’s suddenly staring down the barrel of a gun.
“I said I’m done,” Jason growls, and Tim swallows reflexively.
Slowly, carefully, he takes a step back.
Jason doesn’t move right away, simply stares at him, then the gun in his hand, which he lowers after a breath.
The tension doesn’t leave his shoulders though.
“This whole soulmate thing is some bullshit,” Jason snarls at last. “I hope you’ve got another option on the other arm, Drake, because I ain’t it. And I want shit-all to do with you. Follow me, and I’ll shoot you.”
He leaps from the building, and a beat later Tim watches him swing away between the skyscrapers.
It takes a while to remember how to breathe, more because of the crushed glass sensation in his throat than of any fear Jason would have shot him.
The rejection isn’t unexpected.
Honestly, it’s like a door being closed on something he hoped for even when he tried not to. There’s a finality to it that should be cathartic even.
It doesn’t hurt any less.
Well. At least now I know for sure.
Really, it’s a relief. He knew Jason didn’t like him, but he kept fooling himself with hope and occasional daydreams. And now he can’t anymore, and that’s that. It isn’t like losing Robin or no one believing him about Bruce or butting heads with Ra’s; those had workarounds. This, though, soulmates…it’s not something that can be learned or memorized or forced into being.
Time to move on.
Because Tim doesn’t get to be happy.
Body on autopilot, he returns to the Nest and sees to any obvious wounds. He concentrates on careful stitching, and then on meticulously writing up his report on the night’s events. No need to mention his argument with Jason. Tonight’s going to take his strongest sleeping pills and painkiller, he decides, the kind that will keep him from dreaming.
He considers not setting an alarm for the next morning—surely he deserves a day off, doesn’t he? Considering everything that’s happened today?
No. That would make it too easy to dwell on this, to mope. Work will keep him busy.
And he has to stay busy.
He’s meticulous about following his routine for the next few days. Immersing himself in new product designs, revising by-laws, defending more of his decisions from Bruce’s nitpicking, volunteering down at the Neon Knights shelters. He visits the remaining Titans, spends time with old school friends in Gotham and goes through the motions with his family. Outwardly it’s working but it all seems…hollow. It doesn’t sit right. Something is missing and he knows exactly what it is but can’t do anything about it.
With every fake smile and encounter with the paparazzi, always being the reliable one and having to think and plan everything through to the tiniest detail. It’s exhausting as ever.
And by night, he throws himself into every fight that comes his way.
He very deliberately avoids looking for Jason.
And it’s fine.
Really.
But at the oddest moments of the day, either at work or diving into the middle of a brawl, he remembers that crystalline moment, just after his line missed. When he was just…floating.
Tim knows that’s not a good sign, knows that he isn’t in the best headspace right now. He thinks of reaching out to Dick, the way he always does when it gets bad. He wants to tell him everything that’s going on with his day and night work, wants to admit the truth about his soulmate—
Then he remembers Dick is on his honeymoon and he doesn’t want to bother him and Barbara over this. So he heads to the manor because Alfred is always a willing ear and wise counsel. And Bruce might be making his life misery at work, but he can always be counted on to have some cases that could benefit from a second pair of eyes.
Except when he gets there, Damian informs him that Alfred is driving Bruce to some political fundraiser.
“It seems you made a wasted trip, Drake. Perhaps next time call ahead and spare yourself the trouble,” he drawls from his seat at Bruce’s desk where he’s sketching, Titus curled at his feet. The dog lifts his head and wags his tail when he sees Tim, but otherwise doesn’t move. “I’d show you to the door, but that would require me to care.”
“Always a pleasure, demon boy,” Tim sighs and sets off down the hall. He decides to take a nap in his old room; at least here the place isn’t as empty as his apartment. Damian might not be the best company, but he’s another human being within his vicinity.
Sort of.
As it turns out, Cass is still home. He can hear her laughing at something in the family room, followed by Steph’s familiar guffaws. As he passes by, he sees that they’re curled up together on the couch, arguing over the Netflix selection.
Steph catches sight of him and calls out. “Hey! When did you get here, Former Boy Wonder?”
“Uh, ten minutes ago,” he replies, leaning against the doorframe. It hits him immediately that he’s just interrupted a date night, so he doesn’t make a move to enter.
However, Cass’s all-seeing eyes rove over him and she purses her lips.
“Come and sit,” she tells him. “We have Krispy Kreme.”
“And Cass bought ketchup chips at her layover in Montreal.”
Normally the lure of donuts and chips would have him vault across the room and settle on the couch, but tonight the idea of food makes his stomach rebel.
“I might just go get some coffee,” he replies, trying to back away.
“Do that later,” Cass orders. “Stay for a bit.”
“I don’t want to interrupt anything…”
“You’re not interrupting anything,” Steph rolls her eyes. “Except our weekly argument about what we should watch. Besides, we haven’t seen you since the croc-mutants thing.”
“How’s your head?” Tim asks, giving a mental sigh of defeat and shuffling into the room. Steph sustained a pretty bad concussion that day.
 “Still having dizzy spells and can’t move too fast,” she replies. “The ushe.”
Tim doesn’t take a seat on the couch, though, instead sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table and dutifully taking a handful of chips. They don’t taste like anything.
Cass is frowning at him. “You okay?”
“Just tired,” Tim says, forcing what he hopes is a comforting smile. It’s not a lie, not really, but he doesn’t intend to tell her exactly what’s making him tired.
Cass accepts it, though she continues to eye him with concern. He does his best to distract her by suggesting a film he knows both of them hate, forcing another round of arguments about viewing choices.
They really don’t seem to mind him being there, and for a little while, everything’s alright. They throw popcorn at each other and complain about Bruce’s uptightness and gossip about their respective villain drama and mock each other for failing at their New Years Resolutions after only three weeks. 
Eventually the girls become engrossed in the movie. Of course, it’s one of the token soulmate plotlines that he immediately skips over on the rare nights he has time to watch television. And Tim becomes more and more conscious of how Steph and Cass lean into one another. Cass’s fingers run through Steph’s hair and Steph hides her face in Cass’s neck when a truly cringe-worthy sappy scene comes up.
They look so…content.
Happy.
At peace.
I’m never going to have that, Tim realizes and it’s this that makes his stomach twist, want to throw up and scream and cry.
Because he’s always been alone, but there’s always been that lingering hope that one day he wouldn’t be. That even if it wasn’t a romantic soulmate relationship, he’d still have someone.
Everyone he has loved has left him behind; even the one person in the world who was never supposed to.
“What would you have done?” he finds himself asking, staring at the screen where the male and female lead are mired in their stereotypical big-misunderstanding-fueled fight. They hurl words at each other that they obviously don’t mean but were clearly written to be devastating.
Cass and Steph look up, both somewhat startled by his question.
“What would we have done for what?” Steph wonders.
“If Cass had hated you. Or if Steph had hated you.”
Both their faces go blank. Cass’s mouth turns downward as if she is puzzling out a difficult question, while Steph shudders. “I can’t even imagine it.”
“Me neither,” Cass adds.
Tim hums, having expected that answer even if it doesn’t help him.
“Hey—what are you so worried about?” Steph asks, nudging his shoulder with her foot. “It’s a big world. It’s not your fault or the end of the world that your soulmate died.”
 Tim’s hand strays to his wrist. He’s covered it up around anyone in the Family since he woke up and learned that Jason Todd had almost killed him. As far as Steph or anyone in the family is concerned, he no longer has a mark.
“You can still have fulfilling relationships,” Steph goes on. “You know, if you get over your secretive and control-freak ways and your tendency to eat Hawaiian pizza.”
Tim snorts. “Says the girl who would eat waffles every meal of the day.”
“Hey, that’s a valid meal choice—do you realize how many different types of savory waffles are out there?”
“No wonder you’re beginning to spill out of your uniform,” Damian’s voice disdains from the doorway. Titus lopes at the boy’s heels. “You and Cain have been colonizing the couch for three hours now. I intend to play Inquisition without your hovering, so leave.”
“You mean you intend to spend three hours on character creation before getting stuck in the Hinterlands for the next week and finally throwing the controller at the screen in frustration and not touching the game again for another month?” Tim asks.
“If I want your input, Drake, I’ll—” Damian considers. “I’ll never want your input. Now shut up and stay out of it. Brown, I demand you all vacate the room immediately or I will force you to.”
“Rude.”
“Eleven televisions on this floor,” Cass adds. “One in your room, even.”
“This one has the best resolution for gaming. You go to one of the other ones. You’re not doing anything important in here.”
“There’s nothing more important than Netflix and chill with the boo,” Steph replies. She’s playing with her phone and then chuckles, angling it so Cass can see, earning a bright laugh in return.
Damian looks disgusted. “I sincerely hope when I meet my soulmate, I am not so ridiculous about it as you two, or Grayson.”
“We are not ridiculous,” Cass replies. “We are normal.”
There’s immeasurable pleasure in that word; Tim knows it’s not often she gets to use it in relation to herself. Once again he thinks himself a complete tool for being jealous of her and Steph.
“Hopefully I will take after Father,” Damian continues, sitting in the armchair across from them.
“Emotionally stunted and anal-retentive?” Steph suggests, earning snorts of laughter from everyone but the blood scion of Wayne.
“In terms of soulmates,” Damian emphasizes; Tim notices he didn’t bother correcting Steph’s assessment of Bruce. “I will not make a total fool over the person I have been assigned.”
“First of all, soulmates aren’t assigned,” Steph says, “and second, B is totally foolish over Selina. Why else does she never get sent to jail? And what do you call Alfred putting up with his bull after all these years?”
“Tt. Perhaps you have a point.” Damian seems to reconsider, before glancing at Tim with a frown.  “I suppose in this, you’ve had some luck, Drake.”
That brings him up short, both the implied compliment and the sentiment behind it. “…How?”
“Your soulmate is dead.”
There’s a beat of stunned silence in the room.
“Damian!” Steph cries, sitting up and dislodging Cass’s fingers to stare at him in horror. “You can’t say stuff like that!”
“Why not? It’s true.”
Now would be the time to correct everyone. Tim doesn’t bother.
“That’s not—I meant you shouldn’t wish your soulmate was dead, especially since you haven’t even met them yet.”
“I hope I never do,” Damian insists. “Look at Drake—his soulmate cannot be exploited as a weakness by some clever criminal. He will never have to lie about his identity if the individual turns out to have questionable morals—consider how long Father was forced to hide his identity from Catwoman. And Drake is now free to pursue or avoid any relationship he wishes, without having to worry it will be interrupted by the untimely arrival of a soulmate.” His expression smooths a little, becoming more thoughtful than petulant. “He is free in a way none of us are.”
Cass tilts her head to one side. “That is oddly…insightful of you.”
“And really kind of depressing,” Steph groans.
“And my cue to leave,” Tim says, standing. He forces an easy tone. “If Damian starts envying me, the Apocalypse must be about to start. I should get an early start to patrol just in case.”
“No, Tim! Stay—see what you did, Damian? Apologize.”
“That’s not happening.”
“It’s fine,” Tim dismisses, already leaving the room. “I’ll see you guys later.”
“Be careful,” Cass cautions, her tone somehow knowing.
Tim flees before she decides to really focus on him, but not before Steph can hurry out after him.
“Hey, ignore what he said,” his ex-girlfriend says, looking both worried and intent at the same time. “He’s never had a soulmate, so he doesn’t understand how serious it is to say something like that.”
“No…it’s actually fine,” Tim assures her.
In fact, far from being insulted by Damian’s words, Tim finds himself latching on to them and the logic they represent. The last thing he wants to be is that cautionary tale, like the kid people pity who shuts down his whole life because their crush didn’t like them back.
“Are you sure?” Steph asks. “Because Cass is right, you don’t look okay tonight.”
“I really am just tired,” he insists once again. “I think I’ll skip patrol tonight. Get some sleep.”
She lets out a relieved puff of breath. “Well, that’s something at least.”
“Enjoy your movie—or your impending war with Damian over rights to the family room. Whatever.”
“Oh, he’s in for it if he tries,” Steph smiles a truly fiendish smile, similar to the one she turns on criminals before she breaks their jaw. “Night, Tim.”
“Night.”
He continues on his way to his room, while Steph turns back to the family room. She pauses though, and says, “I was thinking…if she did? Hate me, I mean?”
Tim turns his head to acknowledge her.
“I’d probably still stick around nearby,” Steph says; she rubs at her shoulder, clearly discomfited by the idea. “Just to make sure she was happy, I guess? It’d give me peace of mind, even if I couldn’t be with her. You know?”
Tim’s carefully maintained façade of functionality wavers a little. His eyes soften a bit and he offers Steph a small smile. “I do. Good thing you’ll never have to worry about that, right?”
“Yeah…”
They exchange bittersweet smiles for a moment. Tim bets she’s remembering the day it became clear she and Tim wouldn’t ever be anything more than friends. Then Steph disappears into the family room.
Tim strolls down the corridor to his quarters, frowning with a new resolve. He doesn’t have it in him to stick around and make sure Jason is alright and happy; he can’t even think about the situation without the growing lump in his throat slicing into him.
So, it’s best to focus on filling his life with other pursuits.
From that point on, he renews his goal to immerse himself in work.
WE by day and Red Robin by night. He loads up case after case, reasoning his way through elaborate mental games with villains and rogues, and sends in work for his correspondence courses at Ivy University.
He exists on coffee and sleeping pills and four hours of sleep a night, but he’s too exhausted to fixate, and that’s the important part.
⁂⁂⁂
Next Chapter
This blog isn’t my primary, so my reblogs don’t show up very well. As such, please reblog the fic, otherwise not a lot of people are going to see it :)
<3 Violet
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burberrycanary · 5 years
Text
The Probable Stars (Matthew x Diana, ADOW Ep. 107)
Summary: That’s the way of the world, he remembers. You break the things you are fondest of.
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Nocturns
Next to him, Diana’s breathing slows. He tracks the way her body relaxes into sleep and the beat of her heart. The dying firelight turns her hair a darker shade of gold.
The air, the sheets and his skin all smell of her, easing for now the need he will not satisfy.
But beneath that, the other scent lingers, bright with copper and headier even than desire. How her body felt under his mouth blurs together with the memory of blood in pools and splatters.
I won’t let you harm me, she’d said, lying in his arms, brilliant like a shooting star or a shower of sparks. Matthew has sworn too many vows not to hear the weight behind her words. He’s sworn and kept some, sworn and broken—
—blood on his hands, the arterial gushes from her emptying heart—
He sees Diana again in his mind’s eye, lit with moonlight, slipping from his grasp into the night sky and more cruel than she could understand.
If her little game had not worked, what would he have taken from her? What would have been enough to slake so ravenous a—
Matthew leans over to kiss the top of her head, breathing her in. Mine, he thinks, with the old confusion of hungers.
He leaves the warmth of her—their—bed.
He will not sleep tonight.
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Lauds
The house continues to settle with creaks and murmurs.
He retrieves their scattered clothes from the floor. Each piece conjures up overlapping flashes—her hands rushing to open his shirt, the way she’d smiled against the backs of her fingers when he’d tugged her closer on the bed with his palms cupped behind her spread knees.
He sets her folded clothing on the chest at the foot of the bed, finds a clean undershirt in his bag and redresses.
Her heartbeat is the loudest sound in the nighttime hush. How far could they be separated and still he would be able to pick out the cadence of her heart from all the tumult of the world?
Matthew turns out the remaining lamps, content with the glow from the fire as he considers the room that has been hers since childhood—the sloping angles of the gabled ceiling, the gray and black feathers suspended over the bed on long white threads, the moonlight slanting in through small windows.
Little has changed from what he saw in the dreamlike vision of the night her vast wild magic was hobbled by those she loved and trusted most. The temporary rooms in Oxford he had searched for the book of life had revealed much more.
But, in the far corner, a pair of low bookcases overflow with worn paperbacks scattered with the bright yellow secondhand stickers of a university bookstore—Ptolemy, Grosseteste, Bacon, Robert of Chester translating Jabir ibn Hayyan. He flips through Sidereus Nuncius with its printed many-pointed stars from an age that had not yet divided science from art. On the Nature of Things is turned sideways to fit into a too full shelf next to a Latin dictionary with a broken spine.
His fingers skim over the titles to map the history of her quick and hungry mind. Had she been happy, he wonders, as he pictures her at library study tables, losing her turn in lines unaware of anything outside her reading, curled up in oversized chairs with her bare feet pulled up.
What first drew her imagination so far into the past?
He recalls the black-and-white photo on the back of her first book more as an impression than an image: she’d been pretty, of course, smiling. But her startlingly young eyes were what he had noticed, how they clashed with the way she wrote of those long dead.
Even then, she was making him remember things he thought forgotten.
In honor of old friends—monks and humanists in service of God’s Rome and lost Romes equally—who searched for manuscripts with an obsession that matched his own, he reads Lucretius’s opening invocation of life-giving Venus soaring beneath the spinning constellations of heaven again. Then, more dimly, another line returns to him, ni muer ni viu ni no guaris. I do not die nor live nor heal—a poet had sung of love in a language that no longer exists only to die with his guts spilling out into the chaos of gore on the road outside Damascus eight-and-half centuries ago.
The furious speed of Diana’s life is already rushing through his fingers.
The loss of her should kill him but it won’t.
Well, then. A road outside some Damascus awaits him, too, some charnel house of violence he will throw himself at as many times as he must until at last—
Her heartbeat quickens in his ears, drawing him back towards her with that magnetic pull to sit on the edge of the bed. Her eyes dart behind her closed lids. REM sleep prompts the unlovely language of this current life. Dreams. What once had been known to be the workings of planetary influence on a troubled mind, or so the astrologers had taught off and on for a thousand years, transformed now into shifting waves of neuronal activity shown on modern star maps of the mind, lit up with celestial complexity.
Diana flinches with a moan, turning her face into the pillow. He can still count the hours since he woke to find her missing, taken, somewhere alone and hurt and—
She survived those lost hours. She’ll survive their memory, he knows, for all he wishes he could spare her this and take the recollection from her.
Matthew draws back the hair that has fallen over her face, careful not to touch her.
He had not expected this strength in so fragile a creature.
Let me not break her—this—us, he prays in fragments to God, always God, despite everything.
Her trust, so carelessly granted, unearned, had settled over him from the first with a staggering lightness, as exacting a burden as grace.
Perhaps He is as careless with what He gives as what He takes away.
Her fingers twitch, curling inward as loose fists.
God, what would I have done tonight?
Matthew crosses himself and watches as her face tightens with the memory of pain and fear he failed to shield her from.
Outside, a gray dawn slips past the windows.
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Prime
Just after six, the quiet is interrupted by the tread of feet down the stairs with a softness that must be Em rather than Sarah.
Matthew remembers their discarded clothes near the front door, Diana’s kicked off shoes. He hadn’t cared, not when her hands kept touching his face and cupping the back of his neck, not when she smelled of blood and lust and the night air.
He listens, idly, to Em in the kitchen, running water and then the click of a gas stove. Her aunts know where he sleeps and what he is to her. He can at least spare Diana this small awkwardness.
He pulls on a sweater against the vulnerable informality of short sleeves and leaves Diana, half-hidden under the faded patchwork quilt, with one last look.
Gossamer-pale light fills the lower floor, broken into occasional patches of red and green by panels of stained glass.
Em calls out good morning and then pushes their folded clothes against his chest.
“It's a good thing the house likes you.”
He doesn’t ask what exactly she means because his father had taught him better than to begin conversations he does not wish to have. He sets the clothing down on the kitchen work table and, with a glance for permission, picks up the small wooden tray of casting artifacts she has gathered—feathers and a bundle of sage, a candle and spool of red thread—so Em can carry her tea and the bowl of water out to the porch.
He will never forget whose magic found Diana for him.
But outside she doesn’t seem in a hurry to cast. Steam rises from her cup of tea and her breath is visible in the morning air. Birds call to each other. The family cat clicks its teeth in response. Its yellow eyes trace arcs and swoops.
Em watches him from over the rim of her cup, thoughtful. Her gaze sharpens.
He waits for the warning or judgment that he will listen to with patience for Diana’s sake. Em sets down her mug, keeping her hands cupped around the warm sides.
“The house used to play hide and seek with Diana when she was little.”
Matthew tilts his head and tries to decipher her, this witch that seems so welcoming and holds so much back.
“If Diana hadn't had any gift at all that would’ve been fine. Every family of witches around here has someone like that. But her magic, it just wasn't right and kids can sense difference like hounds. She would hide in some cupboard or closet and the house would slam doors or rattle windows, room to room, to show it was looking for her.”
Em smiles, quick and broad, though her eyes remain serious.
“The house would play with her for hours. It’d shift furniture nearby, something like that, to let her know she'd been found. How she used to laugh, sweet and carefree as though her heart wasn't still cracked in two with missing her mom and dad. And she never lost that, the way she can light up with joy brighter than anything. Grief didn’t take that from her. She remained herself, happy and kind and stubborn enough to drive Sarah half to distraction and back more days than not. She remained herself,” she repeats.
Em picks up one of the black feathers off the table, twirling it back and forth between her fingers. She gives him another steady look that contains none of Sarah’s anger or distaste. But something protective, ancient and terrible, moves behind her eyes that makes the hairs at the nape of his neck stand on end.
Matthew has seen what a mother’s love is capable of more than once.
He forces himself not to tense, to stay leaning against the porch railing.
Em closes her eyes and presses a kiss into the feather. She spreads open her hand. The wind grabs the feather. With a shimmering curl of air, it’s gone.
What did you pray for? He wants to ask. But that is between her and her pagan gods.
Em plays with the tea bag string. Finally, she says, “I'm going to start breakfast. Come inside if the smell of biscuits won't bother you.”
She holds the door open for the cat to follow them but it stares back with blank indifference. Another bird chirps, closer, and the cat’s teeth give a series of rattling clicks.
She shrugs, “All right, then, suit yourself.”
Em hums while she measures out flour and dices cold butter. Other than asking if he drinks tea, she seems content to let him simply be here in her space. He watches as she uses a mug to cut the dough into rounds. She slides a sheet into the oven with smooth automatic motions as though the calm and ordinary turns of life could be drawn like a paper screen over this maelstrom of change.
Above him, Diana’s heart beats, speeding and then slowing in familiar circuits as she sleeps. The light in the room warms to stronger slants that set the stained glass pieces aflame.
With a sudden immediacy, he hears Diana give an indrawn gasp and then, after a pause, a yawn that sounds like she was in the room rather than two floors away.
Em laughs and pulls the biscuits from the oven.
“You see now what I mean? Sometimes you can hear a sigh from the attic. Other times, well, let’s say the house understands the value of a little privacy. But it always let us know when she was awake as a child and I suppose it’s never lost the habit.”
Em cuts a biscuit and drizzles it with honey that still carries the scent of wildflowers—a trace of anise from end-of-summer goldenrod and the sage-like smell of aster. She adds a cup of tea to the tray that she slides towards him for Diana.
“The house likes you well enough. Ask her about the boy she tried to sneak in once if you want to hear what happens when the house thinks otherwise.”
Matthew traps the sound deep in his chest that’s triggered by the thought of other hands touching her and retreats back upstairs. He drops their clothes on the chest at the foot of the bed and leaves the tray on a side table for her.
Diana’s past is her own and she’ll tell him in time or she won’t as she chooses.
But as he crawls back into her bed in this gabled room where the air is still tinged with the desire he drew from her open, quivering body, he kisses her wrists, one after the other.
He leans in to kiss her throat while her fingers card through his hair with a sleepy and contented slowness.
All the while, her heartbeat sounds in his ears like the toiling of a clear and solemn church bell.
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Terce
(Later, dying, he’ll hear Diana’s prayer as from a terrible distance. The air will shimmer with gold. She’ll press her torn open skin against his mouth—don’t—forcing her blood onto his tongue until the clamorous speed of her heart is the only sound left on earth. She’ll curl her small light body forward, around him.
Death marriage birth he’ll think in a confused rush as his teeth sink into the skin of her neck, so fragile, so yielding.
I won’t let you—
Blood on his hands, splattered everywhere, the arterial gushes of her emptying heart—
God—save me from doing this.
But the only answer he gets from God is more blood, always blood, despite everything.)
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mckinnonkate · 6 years
Text
all the love we had and lost
post s11, mulder and scully go on a babymoon! i tweeted about this once and had to get it out of my system so you get to deal with it
there’s probably plot if you squint but why would you do that
tagging @today-in-fic
He floats the idea to her during week fourteen.
They reserve Sundays for lounging around together at home. Though the sun creeping over the horizon might technically signify the start of the day, they often stay in bed together well into the morning, tangled up like the young lovers they used to be. Their lives have slowed from a frantic chase to an almost dreamlike crawl, but they have a new respect for the solace found in spending an entire day simply existing with the person you love – especially with the impending arrival of a new person looming in the not too distant future.
This Sunday, she’s sitting propped up by pillows with her eyes closed and her head tilted back against the headboard. He’s lying face down next to her, head perched on his arm flush against her hip, and his hand roaming across her bare stomach. It hasn’t quite popped – not yet – but almost overnight, her once taut and flat abdomen has developed the slightest curve, jutting out to let the world in on the miracle that grows inside. He can’t stop touching it; part of him continues to marvel at the incredible feat her body is accomplishing, a different part can’t quite believe this is happening and uses the touch of her skin as a litmus test for his lucidity, and another part entirely falls even more in love with her and their baby as they reach and surpass each milestone. Frankly, he couldn’t keep his hands off her even if he tried, but luckily for him, she doesn’t seem to mind.
“We should go somewhere,” he says, his voice slipping from his mouth like honey. She makes a noise somewhere between a groan and a sigh, he’s not sure, but either way, he knows she’s already against the idea.
“Don’t wanna move,” she mumbles through lips as soft as the sheets engulfing them. “Too comfy.”
He chuckles, the sound rumbling through his body like an earthquake in the stillness of their bedroom.
“Not right now,” he amends, “before the baby comes. Let’s go somewhere.” He lifts his eyes to her face and watches as hers slide open. She regards him with a furrowed brow, one of the expressions he knows means she’s curious and not angry or upset. He can work with that.
“I want to take you somewhere, anywhere, while it’s just us,” he tries again, stroking his thumb back and forth over their baby like a metronome. She huffs out a laugh and runs a hand through his hair.
“That’s very sweet, and I would love nothing more than to be whisked away by you, but you know how risky this is,” she reminds him, still softly petting him in the intoxicating way that makes him forget his train of thought. He suddenly wants nothing more than to just let the soothing feel of her nails against his scalp lull him back to sleep. If she whips this skill out on the kid, bedtime should be a breeze.
“I doubt my doctor would approve of travel, let alone allow it,” she continues, oblivious of the detour his brain just took.  
“She said everything looks really good though,” he counters, “and that we got through the worst of it.”
Which is true, technically. Despite near hospitalization when a week or two of particularly bad morning sickness ripped through her, an appointment a few days prior had shown that things were progressing exactly as they should. An image of their perfectly healthy baby hangs on the fridge and a recording of its perfectly healthy heartbeat resides on both of their phones, yet she’s hesitant to throw herself into this when it could all come to a screeching halt at any moment. Going through that heartbreak once was bad enough – she’s not sure she’d survive it again.
“I know we’re not completely out of the woods,” he says, and now it’s his turn to pull her away from her own thoughts, “but you deserve it. We deserve it.” She sighs, thinking about sun on her skin and wind in her hair and life coursing through her veins.
“We’ll talk to Dr. Klein next time we’re in and in the meantime, I’ll think about it, okay?”
He grins, a tender smile with all of the boyish charm he had when she met him 25 years ago.
“Good,” he says, propping himself up on an elbow. “I just want you to relax as much as possible before we’re scavenging for sleep like a pair of starving raccoons.” He leans down, then, addressing her belly. “Not that you won’t be every bit worth it, little one, but we’re really old.”
She laughs halfheartedly in response, covering the hand on her stomach with her own.
~
On a Tuesday during week sixteen, their baby is still perfectly healthy with a perfectly healthy heartbeat. Her doctor runs through the exam according to procedure, asking questions and taking measurements, and Scully updates her on feelings and symptoms when she’s prompted, but her eyes remain glued to the image of the baby on the screen. The evidence is staring her in the face, evidence that she can breathe and let go of some of her worry, but she still holds her breath and expects something to go terribly wrong. She’s seen too much, been through too much, to take anything remotely good at face value, and it kills her.
She hopes the baby can’t feel that.
“More than anything, Dana,” she hears her doctor say and immediately shifts her attention. “I want you to relax as much as possible. You and baby are healthy, everything is on track, and I want to keep it that way. The less stress you’re under the better.”
“Speaking of relaxing,” Mulder interjects from his place next to her, “in your medical opinion, do you think we’d be able to go on a little vacation of sorts?”
She pauses for a moment, forming a response, and hands Scully a paper towel to wipe the gel from her abdomen.
“In other cases like yours, I would typically advise against it. However, and I don’t want to jinx anything here, this pregnancy is going remarkably well. I think I can sign off on a small trip barring any abnormalities on your next scan.”
Mulder reaches over and clasps her hand, shooting her one of the smiles that makes her heart melt. She tries to return it, but the word abnormalities echoes persistently in her head.
~
By the time they reach the Tuesday of week eighteen, in addition to seeing and hearing that her baby is healthy, she also has the tangible proof of little limbs pushing against the confines of her womb. Once again, they’re told that everything is fine and once again, she waits for the other shoe to drop.
“I’m very happy with what I’m seeing here. If you’re still thinking about planning a trip, I think you’re in a good position to do so. My only conditions,” she adds, as Mulder helps Scully off the exam table, “are that you avoid international travel and stay on the east coast.”
In case something goes wrong, Scully supplies in her head, wincing slightly at the baby’s sudden onslaught of frantic movement in her belly as soon as she thinks it. Still, she can’t help but yearn for a respite out of the city, regardless of how brief it might be, where it’s just her and Mulder in a different place being different people.
Hopefully she can leave the intrusive thoughts at baggage claim.
They walk out of the OB’s office hand in hand, his thumb sliding back and forth over hers. When they reach their car, he regards her with the tilt of his head and the quirk of an eyebrow, uttering one location.
And that’s how they decide to go to Florida.
~
He takes over the planning part of the whole endeavor, asking her to trust him, and she finds it hard to say no when she thinks about how deeply he knows her and how deeply exhausted she is.
Within a week, he books flights and a place on the beach, consulting her only to find out when she’d like to leave.
The night before their flight out, she’s asleep in bed while he finishes some last minute packing. Suddenly, she’s roused from slumber by the sound of someone mumbling, and she realizes she can feel his head down by her abdomen and his mouth against her stomach.
“We can’t wait to meet you baby girl,” he whispers in a way that lets her know she’s catching the end of whatever he was telling their child. “Your mom and I love you so much already.”
She decides to pretend to still be asleep, teetering on the edge of consciousness until he moves her shirt back down to cover her belly and drifts off himself.
~
They leave on a Wednesday morning during week twenty. The flight is a little under three hours, and she feels every second of it.
It’s not that she doesn’t enjoy traveling, but traveling with an added 12 pounds of baby weight isn’t the most comfortable thing in the world. Still, the salt in the air and the warmth in the breeze puts a smile on her face, and she’s content the entire trip from the airport to where they’ll be staying.
As soon as the car pulls up, she’s impressed.
A dozen or so cabanas are sprawled out in front of them, each one with a stone walkway to the front door that veers off from a main path down to the beach. The buildings are quaint – short and fortified with concrete, able to withstand rain and wind beating against the structures. They’re all painted a soft yellow, which, paired with the beige trim of the roofs, reminds her of the sand she walked on in Africa years ago. Outside of each cottage, two deck chairs sit next to each other on the unnaturally vibrant grass, completing the picturesque vacation spot. She can hear waves crashing and smell the foam from where they stand.
While Mulder checks them in, she walks slowly up and down a small stretch of the main path down to the shore, one hand on the small of her back and the other resting atop her bump. The baby had been still since they left that morning, but she could feel her now coming awake under her finger tips, a kick here, a kick there. She felt the urge to talk to the human in her womb, to talk nonsense or say anything at all like Mulder seemed to be able to, but words stuck in her throat like tar.
So she simply walks, waiting for Mulder to come find her, and thinks about the way the sand will feel under her feet and the way the ocean will feel against her skin and not about the way the baby might feel in her arms.
He finds her easily and guides her to one of the cottages toward the front of the pack, closer to the actual beach than the rest. He unlocks the door and ushers her inside first while he grabs their bags, and despite the overwhelming floral prints and pastel colors that scream tourist!, the first word that comes to mind is charming.
The space is essentially set up like a one bedroom apartment, with a kitchenette and living room taking up her field of view as soon as she walks in. As she ventures further inside, she takes stock of the white wicker furniture and the king-sized bed in the bedroom. Most importantly, she spots a claw foot bathtub in the bathroom. Not bad, Mulder, she thinks, lowering herself to the bed. Not bad at all.
The man in question enters not a minute later, looking expectantly at her.
“Good choice?” he asks, insecurity creeping into his voice. She beckons him to her and once he’s standing in front of her, she takes a handful of his shirt and pulls him down to her.
“Very good,” she tells him against his mouth before pulling it against her own. His hands move up to cup her face and his thumbs swipe her cheeks. They come apart, but he still holds her face in his hands.
“Do you need rest? Food? Anything you want, say the word and I’ll make it happen.”
She shakes her head, attempting to pull him closer. “I feel like I’ve been resting all day. I want to do something.” As she’s speaking, her stomach growls, loudly enough for him to notice and her to blush. “But food first would probably make me and your daughter very happy.”
He chuckles and kisses the top of her head before reaching out his hand to help her up.
“C’mon, I think there’s a place down the street.”
~
The irony of being on the coast but not being able to eat seafood is not lost on her, but she manages to have some of the most mouthwatering food she’s ever had anyway. They leave the local restaurant and notice that the sun should be setting soon, and Mulder decides it’s the perfect time to walk on the beach.
(In her case, it’s more like waddling, but he knows better than to joke about that.)
They walk hand in hand along the shore, letting the remnants of waves wash over their bare feet and the setting sun beat against their backs. After a few minutes of bumping shoulders while they walk she stops and turns to him, facing the sun. The golden hour light makes her hair seem like fire and her eyes like sapphire, and her beauty nearly knocks him off his feet.
“Here,” she says, pulling their joined hands to her belly. “I think she likes it out here.”
Only recently he’s really been able to feel their child moving, and it seems like he hit the jackpot tonight. He can feel the baby tumbling around under the skin of Scully’s abdomen, the soft rolling sensation of a hand or a foot against his hand. It reminds him of the ocean, the power it holds and the almost otherworldliness of its existence. As the sun slides beneath the horizon, they make their way back to the cabanas for the night.
“Headed to bed?” he asks as she makes a beeline for the bedroom as soon as they cross over the threshold of the cottage. She hums in affirmation as she reaches the door before throwing a look over her shoulder.
“But Mulder,” she says, eyes dark and voice deep. “I’m not tired.”
~
They spend Friday lounging on the beach – she soaks up sun, he swallows a ridiculous amount of seawater.
She sits cross-legged on a blanket under an umbrella, spending a few hours in the shade to cool her skin off from the rays she’s already gotten, and watches as he trudges back to her, shaking out his hair and body like a wet dog.
“Hi,” he offers, plopping down on the blanket next to her and leaning over to kiss her check with a wet smack. “Long time no see.”
“I know, I wondered if I’d ever be able to get you out of there. Thought for a second you found a nice, beautiful mermaid to settle down with,” she jokes, squirting out some sunscreen in her hands. He scoffs in mock offense as she lathers her arms.
“Scully, please, scientifically real mermaids are nothing like the fairy tale iterations we’re peddled as children. They’re gruesome sea monsters with nasty tempers and while I’d love to meet one, that’s just so not my type anymore.”
She laughs, moving from her arms to her stomach, and rubbing the sunscreen in with small circles. He crawls in front of her, flipping onto his side, and watches her.
“How do you feel today?”
“Fine. Good. Really good. The change of scenery is nice.”
“And the baby?”
“Active, but calm. I think she can tell I feel a little more relaxed here, when I’m not thinking about the giant list of things we have to get done before she gets here.”
“Shhh,” he interrupts, scooting closer and placing his hand on the swell of their baby. “Tell mommy she doesn’t need to worry about anything because we’ll get everything done and everything will be fine.”
“I can’t help it!” she good-naturedly exclaims, only to be shushed by Mulder once more.
“This is a private conversation between me and our child,” he continues, despite her eye roll and exasperated sigh. “Please don’t interrupt us.”
“Anyway, as I was saying, baby girl,” he starts, once again addressing her belly. “Your mom worries about everything and everybody, and that might infuriate you from time to time, but eventually you’ll learn that that’s just one of the many ways she shows you she loves you.” She’s caught off guard by his sentiment and tears spring to her eyes.
“She is always going to make sure you’re loved and taken care of, and that’s why you’re so lucky to have her.” He looks up at Scully then, noticing the wetness of her eyes, and he kisses one of her knees. “We both are. Care to add anything, doc?”
She shakes her head, blinking back unshed tears, and continues reapplying sunscreen. His hand wanders from her belly to her bathing suit bottoms and he fingers the olive green fabric.
“New?” he asks, subtly steering her away from anything else emotional and genuinely curious. She nods.
“I had to pick up a new one or two. I…outgrew my others, for lack of a better word.”
She looks pointedly at her bump.
“Yeah, I can imagine.”
He looks pointedly at her breasts.
She rolls her eyes and shoves him onto his back.
~
The next morning, they come across a sign for a local flea market, and that’s how they spend Saturday.
When they walk up to the booths, they’re immediately intrigued by the local art, jewelry, and clothing they see.
They walk through the rows of vendors like any other couple, hand in hand, fingers interlocked. She feels normal, almost mundane, on a vacation somewhere tropical with her partner walking beside her and their baby tossing and turning inside her. It’s hard, though, not to think about how much they had to overcome to get to this point. The people they’ve lost, the pain they’ve felt, all reminders of the trauma they’ve faced, both together and apart. It feels sometimes that those memories are just barely hovering out of her mind, waiting for the slightest thing to signal them back into her consciousness and fill her with dread.
She thinks about Melissa as they walk past a table of handmade jewelry. Her sister’s death has been on her mind more recently as she thinks about the lack of family their baby will have. She would have been an incredible aunt – cool and fun and warm, and sometimes it makes her chest throb when she thinks about just how much she misses her. She pulls on his hand to bring them to a halt and surveys the spread of necklaces, bracelets, and rings. She picks up a gold chain with a crescent moon pendant and runs her finger over the metal.
“Hand-forged,” the woman, who, Scully presumes, makes the jewelry, offers as she comes over to them. “Each piece is one-of-a-kind unique.”
Mulder peers over her shoulder at the metal in her hand and leans closer to her.
“You like it?” he asks into her ear, and she nods, but goes to put the necklace down. “Then we’ll take it,” he directs the latter part of his statement to the owner, and she scurries back the way she came to get a bag.
“Mulder, no, it’s unnecessary.” She tries to fight the gesture despite knowing how futile her efforts are. If he can do anything for her, even the smallest thing, like buying a necklace, he’s quick to jump at it.
“Let me do this for you. Think of it as an early push present.” At her look of amusement, he rushes to clarify. “I read about them online. They’re a nice sentiment. Besides,” he adds, as he hands a wad of cash to the woman and takes the small box she’s put the necklace in. “buying you jewelry now is good practice for when you decide I can give you a ring.”
She smirks and lifts up on the balls of her feet to plant a kiss on his cheek, lingering there for longer than necessary, and slips her hand in his, leading them once again down the aisle. As they walk, she’s looking up at a hanging light fixture to her left when she feels a soft touch on her right arm. She turns to the source and finds herself face to face with a woman who looks to be about a hundred years old, but smiling at her like an overzealous child.
“Come over,” she says, gesturing to a booth of what seems to be knitted goods. “I have something.”
Scully looks at Mulder who shrugs, essentially letting her decide what to do. She doesn’t sense any danger, just maternal warmth that reminds her of her mother, so they follow the woman to her stall.
Once in front of the items, she sees that they’re all hand-knitted goods. There are blankets, hats, and sweaters, all in different colors with different patterns. Scully runs her fingers over one of the beanies and she’s shocked at just how soft the material is.
She looks up and sees the old woman rustling around behind the items on display, apparently searching for something. Scully disentangles her and Mulder’s hands to properly look through some of the items. Each one is as soft and well crafted as the last, and both she and Mulder are almost elbow deep in fabric when the woman approaches them again.
“For baby,” she says, handing Scully what she now sees is a blanket and nodding to her bump. Instinctively, she takes the offered item from the woman and runs a hand across the front of her abdomen.
If it’s even possible, whatever this blanket is made out of is even softer than the things she was looking at before. It’s a baby blanket, she notices as she unfolds it to its full size, and it has light grey stars with sparkling thread hand-stitched all over the white fabric.
“It’s beautiful,” she tells her in earnest, running her thumbs across the raised edges of the stitching. “What on earth is it made of?”
The woman smiles and her expression reads as equal parts coy and proud.
“I mix my materials. I take a little from one, a little from another, just to make them feel like clouds. It’s all a secret.”
“How much for it?” Mulder asks, sensing that no matter what the cost, Scully isn’t going to walk away without it. The woman makes a dismissive motion with her hand.
“No charge. I spotted you walking past and you needed it. I have a sense.”
She shrugs, and Mulder still tries to take out his wallet.
“Please, you put far too much work into something like this to just give it away.”
She firmly shakes her head and then turns to address Scully directly.
“My mother had my sister late too. It all turned out okay. It will also turn out okay for you.” Scully nods as tears spring to her eyes, and Mulder wraps an arm around her shoulder, kissing the side of her head.
In the end, they decide to also buy a larger throw for the living room, one that resembles a certain blanket that used to reside in his apartment.
~
When she wakes from a nightmare in the middle of Sunday night, she realizes she should have known she wouldn’t have a few days of peace.
She jolts upright as much as she can at twenty weeks pregnant and tries to calm her racing heartbeat. She can’t remember the specifics of the dream, but she remembers the specific kind of fear she only associates with something happening to her child.
She palms her abdomen, selfishly begging for movement, and breathes a little easier when she feels what she thinks is a fist pushing back at her. She grabs her phone off the bedside table and checks the time. A little after 1 a.m. means she’s only been asleep for a few hours, yet she feels too wired to fall back asleep. She looks over at Mulder, on his stomach and oblivious next to her, and slips out of bed. She uses the bathroom, careful not to wake him, and tiptoes outside.
The midnight breeze is cool, but her body is so hot these days it feels welcome against her skin. She looks out at the ocean, watching how the inky black water moves and crashes, back and forth, in and out. Deciding to perch out here until her sudden burst of energy dissipates, she lowers herself into one of the deck chairs. The surface is a little rigid, and the angle is a little harsh, but she moves around a bit before finding a position that’s somewhat comfortable. Her hands fall to either side of her belly and she rubs slow circles, trying to calm down the baby she knows she riled up. Maybe it’s the cover of night, or the presence of the ocean, but she feels something loosen in her, and starts talking.
“It’s just you and me tonight, baby,” she begins. The kicks get stronger as the baby becomes more awake. “I’m sure that’ll change once you’re out here with us, because I’m usually so much better at sleeping, but tonight it’s just us.”
She pauses for a moment, choosing to cradle her stomach with her hands.
“I think I should apologize to you, baby girl, because we haven’t talked that much recently. Or, well, ever. Your daddy is a lot better at this than I am. He believes that everything will work out, and everything will be fine. When he believes in something, he believes so fiercely, so he’s been more willing to talk to you and…um…love you.
The truth is, baby, I’m so scared that something is going to happen to you and I’ll never get to meet you. You’ll find this out when you get to us, but we’re quite a bit older than other parents. I’m a lot older than other moms and that comes with a lot of risks – risks that could really hurt you. And the last thing I want is for you to be in danger because the truth is, baby, despite every effort to keep a part of me detached from you in case the unthinkable happens, I love you so much already. I think about holding you and kissing you and watching you grow up and I want it so badly it hurts. Thinking about that being taken away from me…again…made it so hard to let myself love you, baby girl, and I’m so sorry.
I’m also sorry you won’t have much family around when you meet us. Your daddy and I have…been through a lot, and I wouldn’t change a single thing, but it’s cost us some of the people closest to us. And now, by default, you. You won’t have grandparents to spoil you rotten. You won’t have aunts to teach you the secrets of the world. You won’t even have a brother to protect you and keep you safe and god, baby, I’m so, so sorry.
But I want you to know, if you enter this world with any knowledge at all, that your father and I love you more than you could ever think is possible. That despite how unexpected your existence is, you are loved and wanted, and we never for a second thought about not having you in our lives. I made that mistake once, baby girl, and I’m going to spend the rest of my life paying for it, but hopefully the entirety of yours making up for it.”
As she finishes, she sniffles and hears footsteps on the grass approaching her.
“I don’t think the doc had this in mind when she told you to relax.”
She huffs out a watery laugh, letting him lift her chin so he can look in her eyes.
“Did you know that now my immediate response to waking up without you next to me is to try to call the police? I didn’t, by the way, but that was the urge I had to quell.”
“I’m sorry, I woke up from a nightmare and couldn’t sleep and…”
“Decided to catch some rays?”
“Something like that. How long had you been standing there?”
“Long enough. Can you scoot?”
She nods and moves forward a bit on the deck chair, allowing him to slide in behind her. He brings her back to his chest and she falls back against him, immediately appreciating the relief of a soft surface behind her. His hands find their way to either side of her stomach and he rests his chin on her shoulder.
“I know how scared you are, and I also know that there’s nothing I can really say that will make you not scared because you’re carrying a baby and that’s just how that works, but I want you to know that my faith comes from your faith. I believe in you, and that lets me believe that both you and our baby will be okay.”
She’s crying again, so he takes the sleeve of his hoodie and wipes the tears that have already fallen down her cheeks.
“Thank you,” she chokes out, trying to burrow even deeper into his embrace as he tightens his hold on her. “Thank you for being here and for being you.”
He kisses her temple before she turns her head to give him access to her lips.
“Now, kid,” he says, rubbing small circles on her belly with the tips of his fingers. “If you think this is a memorable trip to Florida, wait till you hear this…”
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Alec Ness is a talented producer based in the Twin cities. Lemme start by saying this is an excellent and unique body of work, and is most definitely worth the listen. Each track brings its own powerful energy that courses through you, and incites emotion. Each sound intentional and each transition seamless. It reminds me of controlled chaos. There are many abrasive noises present in the album, that when listened to separately, may agitate you, but when listened to in these compositions, sound amazing. Fitting together like a puzzle piece. Not to say it is rough around the edges at all, it is very smooth and polished. Has a very dreamlike ambiance all the way through. Well balanced with softer tones, reverb, and more rigid sounds. When you get to the song, Temporary Awareness of Passing, it really starts to feel like you have been taken on a journey, a page in the chapter is turning, and you almost forget what you were listening to until it abruptly ends. Followed by the song, Violated Time, which starts slow but then bursts into an experience that virtually transports you to a dance floor. After which is followed by the track, Barrier Theme, which creeps up your chest like an acid come up. You anticipate something epic approaching as the vibrations literally feel as if they are lifting you up. Right as you are about to get to the climax, it fades off. I Truly love the unpredictability of this album. It captivates you and pulls you along, you have no choice but to listen to the whole piece. It is almost unsatisfying otherwise. Interactive until the end. Listening to the song Terrace, which he released as a single off of the album, I felt as if I were inside of the game Need For Speed (the best racing game ever made, dont @ me). At moments I felt like I could hear some similarities to Ratatat, back in the Kid Cudi days, but maybe I was just high. But overall super cool, loved listening, and we will definitely be looking out for more work by Alec Ness.
LINK TO STREAM ALL PLATFORMS:  alecness.lnk.to/taop
Love,
Loud Zay
https://soundcloud.com/sigsoundsradio
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borispav · 6 years
Text
After Amsterdam
Just a small piece on Boris and Theo’s time in Antwerp
Theo guesses he should’ve seen it coming.
In retrospect, it was practically inevitable. Though Boris’ loft was spacious, airy, they somehow always ended up brushing shoulders, never really standing or sitting farther from each other than arm’s reach. 
They fell into routine a little too easily. Functioned in tandem like they’d been living there for years, like there wasn’t a near decade pulling them away from the kids they used to be. 
Theo spends most of his time avidly trying not to think about Vegas, but Boris, of course, makes it almost impossible. 
Potter, remember when-
Hey, you know that time we-
Ah come on, I know you did not forget-
Theo didn’t forget, he remembers it all, and maybe even a little bit too well. Because now, with Boris seated happily on the kitchen countertop, feet swinging back almost childishly against the cabinets, it easily feels like they could be 15 again. He’s making dinner, at Boris’ request. They’d gone out the last two days, and so Boris had insisted Theo cook tonight, ‘just like old times’. He’d even had the entire fridge stocked for the occasion.
Theo dips a wooden spoon into the steadily boiling stew and begins to stir. He’d had to fish it out of an unopened box of utensils. Like most of the things in the flat it was new, untouched. Purchased to give off some sense of domesticity. 
Boris hums idly beside him, and Theo is thankful that, for once, he isn’t talking. The wordless silence is comforting to him, a type of peace he’d grown to miss. With Kitsey there’d always been a seemingly endless stream of chatter. Her voice, high and light, weaving its way around him incessantly. At least Boris understands when to stop. Knows when Theo wants to talk, and when he doesn’t. There isn’t much to say, anyway. They’d talked their mouths dry in the days prior, futilely attempting to color in the monochrome gap between them. Where had they been? What had they seen? What was different?                  Who was different?
But the time for those questions has finally faded out. Theo’s suitcase is packed. He leaves in the morning. 
So he keeps his mouth shut. Some part of him believing that if he starts talking, he won’t stop. That he’ll ramble on about endings, and patterns, and the universe repeating itself all over again. He’ll start thinking about goodbyes, and second goodbyes. About a stalled cab and a late night kiss. 
He’s not here to pick at scabs, tear open old wounds. Their business, as far as he’s concerned, is done. 
Boris takes the spoon from Theo and lifts it up to his mouth for a taste. 
“Is good,” he says, smiling. 
“No, it’s gotta cook a little longer.”
Boris rolls his eyes. “Longer? No no no, you overthink too much. Any more and is gonna burn.” He hops off the counter and turns off the stove, pulling Theo away from it by the wrist. Theo jolts at the touch. 
Boris asks him what’s the matter, but judging from the look in his eyes and the rise of his brows he already knows.
“Nothing,” Theo says, answering the question before Boris can, “let’s eat.”
After dinner they sit, wine-drunk and lazy, on the couch. There’s reruns playing on the TV, old movies which they watch in a dreamlike succession.      Wuthering Heights, Gone with the Wind,  It’s a Wonderful Life.                            Somewhere during the fourth film Theo realizes that he isn’t really paying attention anymore. He’s tired, bored. It’s probably close to 2 in the morning, he should be getting some sleep. 
He turns to tell Boris this, only to find that his eyes aren’t on the screen at all. They’re on him. 
Theo sucks in a breath, watching the way the blue glow from the TV plays at Boris’ face. He’s all shadows and sharp angles, a sight Theo knows all too well.
“Uh,” he says, slightly deterred by the fact that Boris hasn’t broken his gaze, “I think I should get some sleep.”
Boris yawns, lifts his arms above his head and arches his back against the pillows in a catlike stretch. “Oh?” He says, “You’re sleepy?”
Theo tries not to stare at Boris’ now hiked up shirt, the band of his boxers peeking out and above the waistline of his jeans. 
“Yeah,” Theo says, his own voice sounding high and faraway, “exhausted.”
“Mmm” Boris says, turning his body so that he’s facing Theo. He leans in, “You remember that night when-”
Theo zones out. 
They’re close. Close enough that Theo can smell the Merlot on Boris’ breath, sweet and heavy. He watches Boris’ lips move as he talks, shaping out words that fall on deaf ears. But it’s okay. Theo knows this story. He’s visited the memory more times than he can count. 
Boris smiles in a way that’s almost shy. Puts a hand on Theo’s knee and squeezes. “I missed this,” he says, “you.”
His palm is warm. Theo can feel the heat spreading through the fabric of his pants.                                                                                                               What are you- 
Theo means to say the words but they don’t make it past his lips. The television drones on, forgotten by the both of them. He reaches for Boris’ hand, intending to pull it off of his knee, but stops once his fingers graze the roughened skin of Boris’ knuckles. There’s something sharp and dizzying thrumming through him, tugging at something deep. 
Boris curls his fingers and Theo shivers. Puts his hand over Boris’ and drags it, slow and steady, up and over the rest of his thigh before finally letting it settle in the slim space between his legs.
“Potter,” Boris breathes. His eyes are hooded, his cheeks splotched crimson. 
Theo’s heart thunders in his chest.
“Bed,” he says, “now.”
They shoot up from the couch as one, a tangle of limbs interlocked, knocking against every piece of furniture that sits in their way. Boris has his hands beneath Theo’s shirt, is trying to tug it off him as they stumble toward the bed frame. Theo lifts his arms and Boris slips it off. They fall back against the sheets.
He doesn’t think. Not about about his suitcase, zipped up and ready by the door. Not about the plane tickets, or the ride home, or Kitsey or Pippa or anyone or anything else. 
This, this is the only thing that’s real now. Boris’ skin flashing, pale and white beneath the moonlight. His lips dragging against Theo’s neck, his jaw. His fingers hooking through the belt loops of his slacks. Their breaths come out in low, staccato, gasps. Theo’s hands roam the now bare expanse of Boris’ back. He can feel each and every knob of his spine.  
It’s been a long time since his body has pressed itself against something this rough. The rigid sturdiness of muscles that have been toned, strained. The push and pull that’s equal in strength- maybe even more so- to his own. He doesn’t miss the softness. The supple hills and valleys of all the people he’s touched before. 
Boris rolls his hips against him, desperate, hungry. Theo slips a hand through his curls and nods against his chest, the need pooling low in his belly all at once becoming too much to ignore. 
“Please,” Theo says. 
It’s all Boris needs.
When it’s over they lay, silent, in bed. Theo’s head is resting against the hollow of Boris’ neck. He can feel his pulse fluttering, light and fast. 
It’s dark, but he can still make out all the light marks littering Boris’ chest. There’s that freckle, right beneath his collarbone, that Theo remembers from when they were kids. And that scar, shaped somewhat like a T, that sits against his ribs. There are new ones too, of course. Different freckles that have surfaced over the years, with age. Foreign scars. A bruise blooming down low, by his navel.
He should’ve seen it coming.
Boris traces blind patterns onto the tip of Theo’s shoulder and Theo leans into the touch, allows himself to curl up closer, breathe in as much of this as he can. He doesn’t want it to be over. He wants this, all of it. He wants to find a home in the tangle of sheets, this mess of limbs. Because it’s safe. Because it’s Boris. Because, no matter what he tells himself, he knows he’s never going to know the map of anyone else’s body as well as he knows this one. 
The weight of the last few days washes over him like a wave crashing the shore. He eyes the bandages still wrapped tight around Boris’ arm, thinks about gunshots splitting open the night air, about fevers, and bloodstains, and unfinished notes. 
He lets his eyes fall close.
“Theo.”
The sound of his name pulls him back into attention. He looks up at Boris, who is trying to meet his gaze.
“Yeah?”
Boris’ hand stills on his shoulder. He worries at his bottom lip, his expression soft but unreadable. 
“You know,” he pulls in a breath, “you know I love you. Yes?”
The last half of the sentence comes out rushed, a tumble of words that bleed into each other, clumsy. Theo understands nonetheless, and the swarm of heat that creeps onto his cheeks reminds him of their nights in Vegas. He looks away. Tries to quell his breathing. 
Boris rambles. “I know, I didn’t say it before. Was bad of me. But I do, Potter, and you’re-”
“Shh.” Theo pushes himself up, levels his face with Boris’. He doesn’t want him to continue. He can’t continue. It’d just make things harder, and he isn’t ready for that. Boris eyes him warily, and Theo almost slips out a sigh at how beautiful he looks. Lips a swollen pink, raven curls falling over his face every which way.
He doesn’t want this to end. 
“It’s okay,” he says, pulling Boris’ face to meet his, “it’s all right. I love you too.” 
They fall into a kiss and Theo savors it. Loses himself in it because, for now, it’s all they can do. 
At least they have tonight. 
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hahahafangirl · 6 years
Text
To My Muse - Ch. 5
Ch.1 - Ch.2 - Ch.3 - Ch.4 To my AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15078014/chapters/34958786
Summary: At this point, all Nico di Angelo wants to do is to finish the draft of his final book. Also at this point, all Will Solace wants to do is works through the summer to stay alive. Perhaps there are many things else that they also need, but they aren’t aware of them, yet. Okay, maybe they just need to do it step-by-step, and thus that first step is at The Flying Ship. ————————————————————
5. Seven Steps Toward Summer
It was Wednesday. Good ole ordinary Wednesday, who endearingly visits every week only to leave in the span of twenty-four hours; just as an old friend that seemed to be ageless in that her existence is unforgettable. Perhaps, it was because her visit is periodical and frequent, that the same sanguine signal followed her voyage: the next day was his "weekend". He loves his work schedule in that his holidays are two days before other most of others'; especially in that the aspect that everywhere he visits are usually void of the crowd - as everyone else is hard at work, he gets his meritorious break. Coffee shops are sprinkled with scarcely a crowd, the pastries at the bakery are more punctiliously made, the silent air of the library circulates more gently. Yet, best of all, he could use the excuse "But it's not the weekend!" to stay inside and "be productive", as he preferred to describe the seemingly dull and insipid activity of working on his school works.
All right, so perhaps he only loved Wednesday because technically it was equivalent to normal people's Friday, but what difference would it make? Why couldn't he still rightfully wax poetry about his favorite day of the week?
Still, to be fair, the last time he dares to portray his day as ordinary or habitual, an utterly momentous event happen: an unreservedly charming man stepped through The Flying Ship's door, eyes fixated at his face. Will Solace might or might not felt ardor blossomed within his ludicrously earnest heartbeat. The other guy - Will reminded himself not to get ahead of himself - might or might not reciprocate such ardent desire. Nonetheless, they befriended; the guy even recognized Will's favorite band! The idea seemed absurd in the past - like a fantasy that kept replaying in his head instead of jumping out and transform into reality. And now, it finally came true. Not just the "recognizing his favorite music" part - the entire ordeal seemed fantastically dreamlike.
Nonetheless, he loves the normalcy of life - the unremitting beat of motion and activity, the perpetual cycle of monochromatic daylight and kaleidoscopic bulbs enlightens the city, the perennial tidal masquerade of the waves - that were law-abiding and sober, yet its heart was sculpted by enchantment, the sleeves still the fabric of charm. Its tricks are just illusions cloaked under its velvety pretense mayhaps, yet what is life but conundrums and secrets? In the regularity of life, the magic is kept to the minimum and logic dominated, most of the time, though, with his mind deluded by its steady, conciliating rhythm, Will won't recognize any hidden variables installed in place. Just as this instance, was it logical or was it magical that Kayla and Austin called him, together, urgently, in the middle of his shift? Especially if he weighted in numerous, countless elements involved
"No, Kayla. As I emphasized, again and again," Will huffed, his eyes comically widen and his eyebrows raised in desperate exasperation - the emphasis on the word "emphasized" weighted like an annoyed grunt "We're not dating. We're friends."
"Good grief, William," Will could practically hear the noise of Austin's eyes rolling in its socket; the boy has made an irksome habit of calling him every possible name that could be shortened into "Will" - except for his actual name, of course, just for the sake of ticking off the older brother; "Sure, just a friend, you know, who came to the shop every single day since the day he practically eat you up by his eyes, that blushes and dumbfoundedly stare everytime you pull up your sunshine smile, and..." Nothing good would ever come out, every time Austin did such dramatic pause "... a friend sooooooo important that you couldn't help talking about him with Drew every single day."
Will could hear Kayla whistling from another end, but perhaps Will's choking noise was even louder - yet neither of those actually helped to amplify the situation, honestly, for the rosiness in Will's cheeks had already gone blood-red five minutes ago, since the first mention of Nico. His gauche "That's not how it is..." barely came out as a suffocated whisper.
"Oh, Will. Oh, Will," Kayla had snatched the phone from Austin's hand, it seemed, her voice theatrically deriding "Finally, don't you see, Austin," she turned to the "sport-announcer" voice now "Our most gracious, devoting, work-a-holic single-mom had found the love of his life now, in his workplace. A coffee shop, you say? What kind of romantic K-drama is this? How much shoujo manga material is loaded into this love-life?-"
"Sickeningly cliché is it, my dudess, yet so heartwarming," Austin added in his two cents in the background
"An overworked mother found her hope in love again after seeing a handsome man in black? Oh goodness, I understood why Drew was so hyped-"
"Now, pause for a second, would you-" Will pleaded
"You know what she said, Wilfred?" Austin's enthusiastic voice came on crystal clear, from either extreme shouting or regained control of the phone, "'Oh my gawd, haven't you children heard? Will was absolutely smitten, I'm telling you. That unromantic boy finally sounded like he is capable of scoring himself a boyfriend.'" It, apparently, didn't matter that Drew was one of his closest friends, seeing that Austin had no problem ridiculing her voice with his absurdly sweet mocking-tone. Kayla's laughing noise was stifled from Austin's end.
"Drew told y'all all of this?"
"Of course, she's... well, our most trusted secret agent out there." Kayla was back on the phone now, practicing her "government-official" voice.
"But, seriously, Wilston," As always, Austin's tone turned solemn, his maturity found its way to outshine his mischievous-loving facet, "Take your chance, dude, I couldn't care less about how slow it's gonna be. Be friend first, then close friend, then best friend, whatever. You finally quit over-worrying about us and get out of this town-"
"That was five years ago, Austin-"
"And you're still a worrywart." Kayla's joined in, her voice earnest, "And I know that you'll always be, Will. But, gods, just... stop. Don't tire yourself out because of us. We're not kids
anymore."
"I'm overdue for being an adult now, Will." Everytime Austin called Will by his actual alias, the conversation became genuinely heartfelt. That sentence was not new - in fact, lately, it seemed that their conversation would always head toward this direction.
"Plus, I'm going to university next fall, Will. There's absolutely no need for you to worry about us, both economically and, well... everything else-y." Kayla tried to assure him, the words started as solemnly yet became light-hearted, almost humorous, at the end "Just, take care of yourself. Medical school is a fucking mess, so at least try to enjoy your summer..."
"Summer, you say, hm?" Will absentmindedly muttered, his eyes pensively gaze over the street outside. A brooding sense of vagueness engulfed his thought; like a hazy, misty cloth, it suddenly overpowered his eyesight, turning the scenery outside the window distant and detached from his reality, his own universe. For an unknown reason, if there is actually any, the idea of "summer" seemed such a faraway reverie, as if the word deepened in itself a concealed, abstract meaning besides a name of a season. Not necessarily anything that could be associated with summer - the minuscule waves of the butterfly inside his gut was a notional feeling - it wasn't the beach, the heatwave, the ambrosial smell of fruits, nor was it the rush of vacation. That's to be said, there was a hint of liberty in such feeling (No, it was not related to the Fourth of July), not the freedom from the hellscape that is medical school, the freedom from the responsibility of an adult, nor freedom from any physical constraint. It was more of that his heart is free - unbound from any burden, from the invisible weight that he has no idea why, when, and how it got there.
Still, that was just a reverie - a daydream he could sacrifice time to live in, yet, nonetheless, it was anything but a minute of his soul wandering outside of this realm.
"Yeah, Will, and you should come back home sometimes-" Will realized that he must have spaced out for a pretty long while, as the conversation had spiraled out of his mind yet again. Before he could panic and try to follow up on the dialogue, the familiar chimes resonated, pushed through the air and rushed toward his eardrums, for the fourth time in his shift. Which was not a lot, but one had to consider that today was, again, still a weekday. Out of a corner of his eyes, a familiar strand of messy, charcoal hair casually bounded its way into the shop. "-expensive, but Minnie missed you a lot-"
"Listen, kids, I would love to keep talking and listening to y'all complaining about my lack of presence at home, and I'm honestly very sorry about that, but right now I'm still in my shift and-"
"Did Nico just come in? I swear I heard the bell rings!"
"It's definitely Nico, isn't it?" Kayla excitedly followed, then unceremoniously shouted, the phone still directly in his ears "HEY, NICO! HOW ARE YOU DOING WILL LOVES TALKING ABOUT YOU SO MU-
"Bye!" Will briskly shouted a curt goodbye to the phone, which was clutched tightly by two hands, the screen shined its light directly in front of his mouth - the immediate result of having Kayla's booming voice aimed toward his myringa. How he hoped the kid hasn't announced her presence aloud from the phone for the entire West Coast to aware. How he hoped Drew hasn't told them about his new friend. How he hoped he hasn't told anyone about said person.
And oh, how he hoped, dearly, desperately, perilously hoped - because this is one wish in which time-traveling is not involved - that whoever just stepped into to shop (he knew it was Nico, but-) has not paid enough attention nor their hearing was not so exemplary that every single word that bounced out of his phone was heard. Gods, he hasn't even put his phone on speaker.
Still, before he had time to reconsider about every decision he took in his twenty-three pathetic years of exchanging oxygen through the trillions of cells in his body, his obligation toward this job made him tilted his head up and look at the individual that has been so promptly ignored, despite the fact that they had been here for at least three minutes, and probably just hoped for a nice cup of coffee, and not his personal nor familial information. As he expected, Nico di Angelo, his new friend - f.r.i.e.n.d - stood awkwardly in front of the counter, his lean, tiny figure forced him to tilt slightly upward toward the barista. Before Will had time to dreamily gazing over the guy's drastically improved appearance - suddenly, it seemed as if he hadn't had enough time for frankly, anything, lately - a curbed giggle wriggled it way out, through the crevices of Nico's healthily defined, lean and elegant fingers. His eyes curved into crescents, the moonlit surface dotted with the same tenebrous iris, now illumined by the warmth his smile radiated. Was it atypical for Nico's facade to be inundated and enlightened by a sheer jubilant curve of his lips? Will caught himself asking, for how divine and beauteous the other man's joy seemed, the sight graciously, tacitly extricated his soul from pure allure. The melody of his laugh did nothing to lure Will's back from his cherry-blossomed reverie; the angelic harmony danced around his ear, fleetingly fondled his hearing just to dissolved into air. The stifled noise was nonetheless childish and gay, faithful to the depiction that was of a cherub giggling at an embarrassing sight; which is quite accurate, if the rising warmth in Will's cheeks and his ridiculous position whilst held the phone was anything to go by.
"Now, who is the lame one, staring at the other's smile?" Nico smiled yet again, his lips curved into more of a teasing smirk
At this point, Will didn't even bother looking for a retort. He had felt the blood rushing to his face, more clearly this time. The only course of action his brain registered was to jerkily straighten his frame, hastily slam his phone into the counter, hope that the screen won't crack, and hopelessly directed his stare elsewhere - anywhere but the exuberant sight that is Nico di Angelo.
"Wo... wh... what would you like to o... order... today?" He finally breathed out, the supposedly monotonous greeting got stuck on the roof of his mouth
"The usual, if you please." Nico smirked again, this time even more devilishly pretty "So, what was that whole... staring ordeal about?"
"Can't imagine, finally, it came, the day somebody casually said 'the usual, please.'" Will ironically wiggled his head side to side. He heard the second comment about the "staring ordeal", yet had elected to ignore it.
"Uh huh, and it's sure to stay for a while." The smirk still hadn't left Nico's lips "Was that your sibling?"
"Sure. Whatever. What kind of diabetes-inducing treats would you like today?"
"Oh, I'm pretty sure that wasn't something you ought to say as an employee here." Nico glanced toward the glass display "Mango cheesecake, please. At least I'm going to get the fruit required in my diet at once."
"Moral obligation as a medical student, if you don't mind." Will smiled. "That would be $13.67."
Nico handed him the cash, his olive-skin warm and slightly sweaty, "Sure, but right now you're still a barista. Gotta enjoy your summer without such... obligation."
"Who knows, it already invaded my bloodstream." Will handed him back the coins. Nico left for his usual table, bounced jejunely on the ball of his feet, obsidian irises still rested on Will's face
"Maybe lame-ness and boredom had, too, you know. Lucky for us this isn't a Starbuck, or else someone would have to decipher your handwriting."
"Ha, ha, funny little jokester, you truly are." Will rolled his eyes, hands moved to make the macchiato that his muscles had grown to be familiar with.
"See, at least I don't have lame replies to jokes."
"Oh, see, that's because my so-called 'lame replies' are at least humorous enough for everyone to be able to generate a decent reply." Will's eyes were fixed on the cup of coffee, for which he regretted not being able to observe the other man's immediate facial responses.
"If you need to believe so in order to console yourself, go ahead." Nonetheless, Will could imagine Nico dramatically rolled his eyes, again. "Still, you haven't answered my question: Was that your sibling?"
"Yeah, both of them were on the phone, really, but lucky for my ears and dignity that only one of them has the nerve to yell." Will's mind drift about what image should he draw today for Nico's cup
"Bold of you to assume that you have any left after that shout, though." A fox, maybe. A sassy, milky white fox. Perhaps he would let the coffee blend-in enough for the fox to had brown fur.
"Bold of you to assume that you still have any, quoting a meme."
"Hey, one got to catching up with slangs these days, you know. Unlike some cranky old person."
"Whatever ya say, tiny." Will glanced toward the said person, who already brought out his laptop and seemingly about to start typing
"Sure, William, I noticed the floors up there is at least five inches taller than the ground."
Will didn't even bother to correct the name, "I mean, the last time we met outside of this shop, you were still shorter than me."
"Shut your trap, Wilston, I was sitting down." It seemed like Nico somehow knew about the fact that his name really was not William (Will blamed Annabeth. Wasn't she the only one who could disclose that information?) and as of now, just tried to use random names to get a response out of him. Will couldn't stop his laughter this time; he let loose the airy, funny laugh from his lungs. "Why are you laughing?"
"Nothing, just that you're playing the exact game my little brother is playing. Except that he actually knows my name, and just want to mess around." The brief laughter died off, yet its corpse remained in the form of a smile on Will's lips.
"Oh."
"And to give more details on your questions. Yes, I have two younger siblings. One male and one female," Will might or might not forget to mention his two older brothers, but that's a story to be developed in later days. A half-covered truth, in this situation, for Will was not a lie. "His name is Austin, and her name, the one that was shouting, is Kayla."
"A handful, they seemed." Nico ruminated
"Well, generally speaking, they're good kids. But yeah, the pranks drove me insane sometimes. Lovely kids, nonetheless." Sometimes, it concerned him how much of a mom he sounded like - how much of a mom he was to them in the absence of their mother; but he didn't utter anything. It wasn't time, yet. "You got any siblings, though? Enough about me."
In a fleeting second, Nico surprised gaze was frozen in place, stilled against the flow of time. He quickly diverted his gaze toward the streets outside, his inky pupil melancholically straitened. Ironically, perhaps, a tint of blue from whatever sign out there reflected its color on his forlorn orbs, then the guy's breathing gradually slowed. Will wondered if he asked the wrong question. Guilt engulfed his gut, sent through his spine a spark of ice, his sense tingled for him to apologize, yet his eyes and soul could not utter a sound, for Nico's woebegone beauteousness was whittled out of glass - elegant yet fragile, merely for eyes to touch yet not for caress to see - and was it a tragic piece of art, for miseries were the element of its painstakingly exquisite portrayal, a burden so cumbersome, yet bleached with tears and bloodshed into a pulchritude. Was it so heartbreaking that this crestfallen beauty required breathing, required blood to stream through its vein, required neurons to send flares of sorrow throughout his body? There would exist neither pain nor beauty without the rushes of life prodding through human's veins, yet such grace was inflicted upon unfeeling woods, and not another beating heart. Was it fair for the universe to sculpt a life into a living art? Was all that was at stake worth the torment to form such transcending elegance: ichor surging through a sculpture of agony, living force pounding against the hewed claw marks? Perhaps the only path to truly touched human's heart through art was to whittle such art upon living beings, for cruelty was only acknowledged after a costly disaster.
Nico suddenly seemed so small and fragile against the friction of time. As if after all those adorned embellishments were peeled away, only the broken, terrified child remain. A child so young yet had already felt such immense sufferings. His stature stiffened, eyes still not dared for any being to see, yet Will had found the scarred child deep within.
Would he shatter if a sound dared to intrude this coagulated silence?
And for Will acknowledged that the man there was human, that life thrived within him unconsciously, he spoke. His voice trembled more than he thought it would be, the agony he felt more than his conscious mind was aware of.
"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it. I'm sorry if... the subject is sensitive to you."
Will saw the surprise jerk of Nico's shoulder; as if the air his words resonated suddenly shook him awake from his dream. Eyes still lost in the crowded world outside, Nico gently whisper, barely enough for Will to catch
"It's alright..." There is a pause, before his wavering voice steadied itself, "I have a half-sister, Hazel, you probably didn't notice her from the karaoke night."
Something was hidden within such curt and simple reply, yet Will didn't probe. Didn't dare to, and didn't want to. He respected the guy's secrecy, and since there were hidden words in his sentences earlier, it was not fair to further provoking Nico's woe. He brought the cup of coffee and the cake to Nico's table himself this time, the sudden clicks of porcelain against wood once more shook the ebony orbs out of their pondering.
"See, you're not that much taller than me." Nico tried to make a joke, tried to smile instead of a grimace, yet the dusky-colored air around them had yet to fade away. Sorrow clutched into the air, not quite ready to part yet.
"Whatever, kid." Will so desperately wanted to ruffle his hair, to run his calloused hands through Nico's soft onyx locks, like how he often did to console Kayla and Austin's tears, yet found himself not able to. For some reason, he sat down, opposite to Nico, the laptop stood between them like a barrier.
Nico did not comment. His eyes betrayed his defensive stature; they longed for Will to share their pain, for Will to deepened his light into those impossibly dark pits.
"I had a bigger sister, too" was all Nico muttered, the sound waves emitted were so tiny against the movement of air. Will thought he had misheard his words, but beside the quiet, foggy voice, each consonant was clear and void.
Unconsciously, Will's palm reached the other's trembling hand, the quiver so negligible that it was almost impossible to felt. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 taps. A pause. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, again. The steady rhythms gave them something to focus on.
Outside, a summer rain merrily marched its way through the town.
-------
That day, Nico barely got anything written in the shop. First was the mention of his... family, then it was the persistent tapping of Will's gentle fingertips against his hand. The sunlike warmth of his palm left a burnt imprint on Nico's olive-skin. Not that at that point, his brain was in the shape to get anything done.
Honestly, he didn't blame Will. It wasn't like he was a seer or any of the like; the guy didn't know how sensitive he was to the slightest allusion toward Bianca, and it wasn't his fault that their conversation was about siblings and family. If it was anything to go by, in the end, Nico still disclosed the fact that Bianca existed.
Existed. Exists. Existing. Existed.
He no longer sure if it would matter if Will knew about the incident.
--------
"A thickened air of tense quietness embraced the pair before Mei could bring herself to glanced once more into Songoro's eyes. The ambers that she had grown to trust upon were fogged with inquietude and hesitation. The taut, soundless atmosphere felt like extreme humidity; as if every particle in the air was gravitating toward their inner battle, ravenous for the taste of their struggle on some quantum-scaled tongues. The room temperature seemed to drop, the esurient air besieged their breathing, hindered the oxygen exchange. Right, Mei felt suffocated, purely from tense uncertainty and anticipation - suspense for whatever decision they were going to make.
The burden of the world had mushed their lungs together, flat, voided of life.
And thus, so was the plan they schemed. Voided of humanity and compassion, void of empathy and moral. And soon, voided of breathing being.
There was too long yet too little time for Mei to decipher the lines embarked on Songoro's face. Too long the days they spent staring into papers, scheme, and strategies; too little the hours they spent to know the hidden anxiety, the turbulent emotions within their hearts.
Mei was aware of how Songoro often stared into her eyes, discretely, from a respectful reach. Not the way another general drilled into another, piercing his way through her armored arguments to find a sophistry; his gaze was compassionate and empathetic, the very way opposite with the nature of their incoming work, yet she won't complain. They were human, after all, she reminded herself. But the way she remembered the moments when Songoro's ambers were limpid and sharp made it hard to be so, as of right now.
She knew what his eyes meant when he stared at her like that. As if he was trying to decode the misery in her eyes, then gave up and lured himself into a still observation. She knew the poetic way he was assessing her pain. It was ludicrous. She knew that he tempted to convey the torment in her eyes into some crudely stunning arts. That whatever scars and marks were indented on the mahogany of her skin, that he would sketch them as adornments for his sculpture. As if sorrow was exquisite and her body was the gold-varnished embodiment of despair. As if the ichor rushing through her veins and her scars coalesced into diamonds. It made her conscious, now, when the gloom had melted away from her heart. Songoro meant well, Mei reminded herself, despite the inner protest of her mind. How tired she was of compassionate eyes throw their gazes toward her direction -  as if the woe within her was a black hole, gluttonous for empathy. Mei was not craving for their silent consolation, still, the rain of their collective guilt over her past drenched her lungs.
But Songoro was a man of action, one of the only people whose next step was not away from her to nurse their own tears, but toward Mei in her forlorn expression and awkwardly tried to console her. Her mind suddenly drifted toward the steady beat of Phoebe’s fingers against her skin.
Of course, she noticed the hurt in his eyes, too, as it emerged from the ocean of amber he desperately drowned it under. Mei noticed it before, and it was here, at that very moment, as they decide if the sacrifices were going to worth the chance. She saw the perturbation threatened to emerge and devastate his mind; a burden handled so immaculately at the first sight that no one bothers to lingered a bit longer, to see that his barricade was about to shatter into pieces just as glass. There was an invisible responsibility in his shoulder and the weariness it inflicted upon his darkened eyes, a strain that ruptured the gemstones that were his eyes, his dam, his panoply. Mei wondered if there was something else hidden in his silence; a thought so personal and unfathomable that no one could reach into. Countless times she heard the quietest of audible noise escaped his thought before sound succumbed to the roaring silence of their own awkwardness, speechlessness, and guilt. Mei could understand, yet not truly feel, how onerous and harrowing the plan was going to be for Songoro - if there was an unspeakable cause of his hesitancy. Yet, one thought she was certain of amidst the grueling nature of this moment, was that sooner or later, they would need an immense resilience to accept that this was the best they could think of.
The only strength they need was the strength to admit that someone's blood would be on their hand. And that there was no other way.
Thus, Mei squeezed his hand. Firmly. Twice. So that their ideal was spared a chance to blossom."
----------
Hi, finally I’m back with... this kinda slightly longer than before chapter. Thanks to @fififerielb and everyone that enjoyed my previous chapters :3 So sorry this took so long, but life and writer’s block are apparently a thing so..... :cry:
2 notes · View notes
joehertler · 6 years
Text
30 Modern Horror Movies For Your Spooking Pleasure (Updated for 2018)
Dearest Friends and Fellow Rainbow Seekers,
as you may know, I am rather obsessed with horror movies. Over my lifetime, I have submitted myself to thousands of hours of horror cinema, but such extended exposure has come at a cost. It is true that I sometimes lose sleep over the fear of grinning demons sitting at the foot of my bed, or perhaps finding the bloated corpse of a drowned girl crying in my closet. But dark thoughts, as such, are typical to those who willfully endure the macabre. As a horror fan, nothing is more terrifying—or more gratifying—than clammering your way through the black swamp of terrible movies in search of the diamonds in the rough.
I have done the work for you, dear reader. I have hunted through hundreds of faux haunts and I have identified those that are genuine. And if you’re willing, I would be honored to serve as your guide through this realm of dark cinema. A concise list lies below, consisting both of films widely recognized, and lesser-known cult classics. They are united only by their modernity and their overall awesomeness. This is a list of films to be watched by all fans of cinema. So I urge you, dear reader, to call your significant other (or the one you desire to be your significant other). Then, put on your favorite onesie, and get ready for spookiness!  Because the night is dark and full of terror—and you deserve to be spooked by those films most worthy of spooking!
The Babadook - 2014 [TRAILER]
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This might be my favorite on the entire list, so I'm gonna stick it right here at the top. But really, if there's one movie on this list that you should watch, it's the Babadook. Sure, you might have to suspend your disbelief on a few occasions, but it's totally worth it. It seems so rare that horror movies transcend their linear plots into something deeper, but the Babadook succeeds to descend to wonderfully cerebral depths. Without spoiling too much, the plot centers around a mother, grieving the loss of her husband, and her ADHD trouble-child, who come across a creepy kids’ book. An emotional and psychological haunting ensues that dares viewers to venture into the realms of depression and mania.
Let the Right One In - 2008 [TRAILER]
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I've been bored of Vampires since Harry Potter, but this little charmer bit me right in the jugular. The plot centers around a boy who befriends a young female vampire—and yes, for you vampire loving people out there, it does get kind of romancy (in that innocent kid way). Apart from the totally on-point acting, the film maintains an oddly delicate balance of emotional tenderness and intimacy to total blood-chugging brutality. It is easily the best vampire movie to date, and if Swedish subs aren't your thing, there's an American version, Let Me In, that is equally as good.
It Follows - 2015 [TRAILER]
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With one of the most original plots I've ever experienced in a horror movie, It Follows is being touted as one of the best movies of 2015. It's a film best left to experience without outside influence, but I can say that this film will be well enjoyed by those who appreciate speculation, interpretation, and subplots involving the exchange of STDs. It follows tread along a straight forward plot, but contains a wonderful amount of depth to sift through afterward. The film also has top-notch acting and is beautifully shot (much of it shot in Detroit). Make sure you see it with a few friends so you can talk about it afterward!
The Orphanage - 2007 [TRAILER]
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I love me a sad, creepy ghost story, and there's something even better about them when they involve dead children. Like many of the films on my list, The Orphanage, produced by Guillermo Del Toro, has just that. But in all seriousness, this film has a wonderfully emotional story that’s rarely found in the horror genre. It's a well-known classic amid fans of the horror genre, a film that masterfully builds writhing tension to evoke its scares.
Lake Mungo - 2008 [TRAILER]
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Lake Mungo offers a long-winded but mature examination of loss and grief. Its presentation is almost dreamlike, with a plot that focuses on the horrors experienced by a family after the drowning of their daughter. Lake Mungo exceeds as a film in the way that it relentlessly builds upon a wrenching sense of dread. Made with a tiny budget, but supported by solid acting, this film is surprisingly believable and captures the vulnerability, isolation, and confusion experienced after the unexpected death of a loved one. Simply put, this movie is completely terrifying, yet contains almost no cheap scares. It's a 100% unrelenting, slow-roast dread that doesn't let up until well after the credits.
REC - 2007 [TRAILER]
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The original REC is a deliberately fast-paced film that sandwiches its doomed characters between compounding layers of dread, resulting in of one of the best modern horror films in years. The pseudo-zombie plot derails right from the get-go, and later smashes into the supernatural for a terrifying climax. But the disgusting monster at the end? That takes the cake for one of nastiest creepers ever to make it into cinema.
The Curse (Noroi) - 2005 [TRAILER]
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There is a goldmine of Eastern horror out there, and the Curse represents the genre as one of the best. It's a Japanese, low budget, faux documentary, that—amid scenes of complete ridiculousness—manages to be completely and dreadfully effective. Noroi presents an engrossing, slow-burn mystery that carefully leaks the details of an ancient demon-curse. If you're interested in venturing into classic eastern horror, definitely check this one out.
Kill List - 2011 [TRAILER]
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In some ways, Kill List tries to be a deep character study (and I'd say for the first 45 minutes, this might hold true), but then it’s quickly upstaged by an eerie crime drama, which later transforms into a totally effed cult-terror-gore-fest. Somehow, it all seems to work together, leaving you with a disturbing, yet surprisingly thought-provoking mess to discuss with your friends. This is a film to be viewed with others, and I highly recommend it for those who love cults, mysteries, and gore.
28 Days Later - 2002 [TRAILER]
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While I wanted to avoid the obvious choices for this list, I couldn't leave out 28 Days Later, because...Well, it's just too good to ignore. With fast zombies, sympathetic characters, and incredible production, Danny Boyle has created one of the best pieces of apocalyptic horror ever made. You’ve probably already seen it, so you might as well see it again.
The Descent - 2005 [TRAILER]
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The Descent stars six women, all part of an extreme adventure club, who decide to explore the creepiest cave in the entire world. In this cave, of course, dwell terrible, fanged, amphibious slime creatures who have an affinity for jump scares and standing directly behind the backs of the characters...but the real horror of this movie is the cave. The movie absolutely excels in conveying intense desperation and suffocating claustrophobia. Despite solid reviews, I had low hopes for this movie, but ended up really enjoying it. Highly recommended.
Cabin in the Woods - 2012 [TRAILER]
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Horror fans tout Cabin in the Woods as a modern classic. Is it particularly scary? No. But it does provide an ample serving of self-aware humor and cliche-bending twists. I don't care much for self-aware horror movies, but Cabin in the Woods does it right, offering one of the best works of pop culture entertainment that the horror genre has ever seen.
Suicide Club - 2002 [TRAILER]
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With an opening scene of 50+ Japanese schoolgirls jumping in front of a train, I can confidently say that Suicide Club is one of the most hardcore horror movies of all time. The movie follows a wave of unexplained suicides and slowly pieces together a rather nebulous mystery. Answers, however, are few and far between, and I am still not sure if I actually like this movie. But for anyone who is looking for something a little bit darker, this is for you.
Battle Royale - 2000 [TRAILER]
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Before the Hunger Games, there was Battle Royale, which happens to be set in a  similar dystopian universe, wrought with unemployment, crime, and malcontent. Each year, a randomly selected 9th grade class of Japanese, khaki-donning schoolchildren are outfitted with exploding shock collars and given an assortment of weapons. They are then forced to hunt each other down until there is only one left. Long story short, it's the hunger games with an R rating, and if I am not mistaken, this controversial child-massacre-gore fest was banned for a time. But for real, this movie rules, topping its big-budget, modern successor with tons of style, as well as a healthy dose of dark, humorous cynicism. If you felt that the Hunger Games didn’t have enough teen gore, then this movie is for you.
The Devil’s Backbone - 2001 [TRAILER]
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A haunting allegory of the Spanish Civil War, Guillermo Del Toro's film presents a chilling school house ghost story that stands as a masterfully produced piece of cinema. It's heavily atmospheric, emotionally fraught, and above all else, spooky. This fable is one of Del Toro's best and is a must watch on this list.
Creep - 2015 [TRAILER]
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Laced in dry humor, Creep is another slow burner that masterfully builds upon a foundation of discomfort and creeping uneasiness that relies little on jump scares (although, it does not forgo them). The two fold script prompts some of the best acting on this list - and rumors state that much of it was improvised. Creep is proof that you don't need to have a big budget with CGI jump scares to make a compelling horror movie. Did I mention that it's available for Netflix streaming, too?
Gerald's Game (89% RT) [TRAILER]
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The plot begins with a dude named Gerald, who, with his wife, depart to an ocean side cabin for a sexy-time retreat. Except their sexy time, in typical Stephen King fashion, goes horribly wrong. Next thing you know, Gerald is being eaten by a dog and she's handcuffed to the bed and then the boogieman starts to come out at night. Hopefully I didn't just ruin the movie for you, but for real, it gets really good - and the boogieman is one of the best horror spooks I've seen in a long time. The wife, Carla Gugino, gives nothing short of a stellar performance, too.
The Witch (91% RT) [TRAILER]
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The Witch centers itself around a (Puritan?) family who is banished to the outskirts of the New England wilderness in the 1600s (where an ancient and foreboding evil lurks). Shortly after, the crops die, people get possessed, someone's nipple is eaten by a demon crow, and Satan appears as the family goat, named "Black Philip." Despite what I just said, the Witch bares little, but what it does reveal is absolutely brutal. But the real horror is not what hides in the woods, but rather the evil that makes its way inside of the characters. Overall, it's an exceptionally well made period piece that will marinade you in dread... and thus the Witch is one of my favorite horror movies of all time.
Under the Shadow (99%) [TRAILER]
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Under the Shadow is an art house masterpiece that serves as one of the greatest horror movies ever made, yet it is mostly unknown outside of horror circles. The movie is about an Iranian mother and daughter, living in a bombed out Tehran in the middle of the Iran-Iraq war. Her Husband, a doctor, is drafted to serve at the war front and they are left behind when an undetonated missile comes crashing into their apartment building (followed by a superstitious neighbor spouting about how the missile brought with it a middle eastern demon, or Djinn). Things start to get creepy when random items being to go missing, the daughter's behavior becomes increasingly erratic, and the Mother is plagued by horrible nightmares. But most unnerving of all is the isolation and desperation of a mother and daughter trapped in urban chaos.
IT (86% RT) [TRAILER]
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An ancient, child devouring evil lurks under the town of Derry, Maine, who manifests itself physically as the apex of one's fears. Over the centuries, It has developed a taste for children (whose fears are easier to conceptualize, apparently), and thus It's preferred manifestation is that of a google-eyed, drooling, and mildly pedaphilic clown named Pennywise. Without drenching this write-up with my slobbering love for this movie, please know that the director and actors absolutely nailed it. The book presents 1200+ pages of historical world building with time-jumping plot lines - and the movie does an amazing job portraying the phantasmagoric and fantastical, yet demon-beleaguered town of Derry. Director, Andres Muschietti and co. deserve every penny of the 300 million dollars it has grossed since release.
It Comes at Night (89% RT) [TRAILER]
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It Comes at Night is a psychological slow-burner, relying on the fears of the unknown, of mistrust, and of post-apocalyptic desperation. The plot revolves around the plight of a family, isolated and hidden, in their forest home as an undefined and unnatural blight ravages the outside world. One day, another destitute family comes stumbling into their home, who are cautiously taken in. Paranoia and mistrust slowly begin to boil between the two families, awakening an evil greater than the zombie-esque disease they seek to hide from. It's an unnervingly fantastic film that will stick with you long after viewing.
Get Out (99%) [TRAILER]
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You can't have a “best of horror” list without mentioning "Get Out." The plot, which involves a bi-racial couple making a visit to the girlfriend's (white) parent's house, is both sharp and nimble in its often satirical portrayal of racial tension. The over-the-top plot initially focuses on a particularly awkward form of racial envy, which quickly derails into something much more sadistic - all the while tinged with director Jordan Peele's trademark humor. It is a movie that gives hope to the genre and has absolutely cemented itself as one of the best horror flicks ever made.
Train the Busan (95%) [TRAILER]
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A father and daughter find themselves fleeing through the countryside (via train) amidst a zombie apocalypse. It's predictable, gory, and over-the-top, but in our cinematic world, over-peppered with every kind of zombie flick conceivable, Train to Busan still explores nuances amidst its campy and relentless action. Simply put, "Train to Busan" is a well-made and exceptionally entertaining film that still offers a dose of originality from within its South Korean setting. Just try not to take it too seriously.
The Wailing (99%) [TRAILER]
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In a quiet south Korean village, a strange visitor appears, and soon after people start violently killing each other. In a panicked desperation, the police consult the occult to aid in solving the mythical blight that threats to spread beyond the village's outskirts. The Wailing is best enjoyed without knowing too much, but this phantasmagoric and gritty film is a cemented gem of Korean horror. It has some flaws and is exceptionally long, but the exploration of creepy eastern cult-mythology makes it well worth the trek.
The Banshee Chapter (75% RT) [TRAILER]
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A man goes missing after consuming some CIA branded psychedelic research chemicals - and his friend decides (with the help of a gonzo-inspired journalist) that she’s going to track him down.  They acquire the aforementioned chemicals and proceed to smoke them, which apparently allows an evil deity to invade their lives (this particular deity takes the spooky meter and sends it to level 10). The plot is, admittedly, pretty lame, but if you can embrace the campiness, you'll find the movie is legitimately terrifying. I was prepared for a b-movie cheese fest, but for real, this movie is exceptionally spooky.
Hell House (76%) [TRAILER]
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A malfunction occurs in an Halloween attraction set on the site of a hotel with a nefarious past, causing the death of 15 people. A half decade later, a documentary crew decides to investigate the tragedy and end up acquiring some tapes of the incident. It's a bit cheesy, but the plot and the acting are pretty damn good for a straight-to-VOD, found footage B-movie. Most importantly, though, is that "Hell House" is extraordinary creepy; completely worth watching for the thrill of horror.
Hereditary (89% RT) [TRAILER]
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Cemented by Toni Collette’s wonderful performance, Hereditary is easily the best horror movie of 2018. The movie presents one menacing sucker punch after another as it rips apart the ground beneath the security of home. Both devastating and anything-but-subtle, Hereditary is recommended to those who like ancient demons, candle lit seances, and the occult.
A Quiet Place (95% RT) [TRAILER]
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A Quiet Place’s plot, both affecting and inventive, throbs with (at times) agonizing, hold-your-breath tension. At the core you will find a family of four, struggling to survive in a world inhabited by invasive, sound-sensitive creatures who would prefer the extinction of humans. John Krasinski serves as both director and acting lead, which is good news for those of us who could care less for the recent stream of superfluous action movies he’s been producing.
A Dark Song (91% RT) [TRAILER]
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Brooding and methodical, A Dark Song is set-piece pagan horror at its finest. It features only two characters: A mother in mourning and an arrogant occultist whom she seeks the aid of. The duo lock themselves in an old mansion to enact a lengthy and risky ritual, one that (ideally) results in a wish being granted. The acting is both fantastic and believable as the characters, in typical horror movie fashion, make mistakes that send them into a descent of madness. It’s witchcraft-gone-wrong; a slow burner with the relentless dread and chaos of a waking nightmare. This is one of my all time favorite indie horror movies. Highly recommended. 
1922 (89% RT) [TRAILER]
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Unreliably narrated via the confession of a father who murders his wife (and who also ropes his hesitant son into the act), 1922 is a brooding tale of a man driven to madness by way of guilt. There are no jump scares to be found, as the movie favors the father’s slow-rot suffering and his futile and increasingly desperate attempts to bury his festering guilt. Psychological horror at its finest, this King adaptation is another excellent addition to Netflix’s diverse and original collection of horror movies. The Ritual (71%) [TRAILER]
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While imperfect at best, this B-movie, set in northern Sweden, provides an interesting set (creepy, frost-dusted hinterlands) inhabited by four bros and an imaginative monster who’d prefer they were hiking somewhere else. Ankles are sprained and tempers swell as the friends become increasingly lost amidst a forest of their misjudgment. This movie is the definition of “pretty decent” with enough substance to hopefully see you through to the “less than decent” finale. 
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kealoha96 · 5 years
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Narrative Games
If I’m being honest, I pretty much only play shooty-shooty-boom-boom-kill-all-enemies types of games. But recently I’ve been on a bit of a narrative game fix. These games are characterized by a slower pace, a lower mechanical skill ceiling, limited interaction with enemies, lots of dialogue—all things that I wouldn’t normally like to have in my games. But despite that, a few of these games still managed to surprise me. I’m gonna run through them from least to most favorite and explain what I liked and what I didn’t.
Oxenfree
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You take control of a teenage girl who’s off to spend the weekend with her friends. They all take the ferry to a quaint, no-longer-inhabited island with plans to drink beers on the beach and have a good time. Of course, it doesn’t take long before that’s all interrupted by some spooooky happenings. Then it’s up to this girl (whose name I may or may not have forgotten) to solve the mystery of the island and save her friends.
One of the strengths of this game is its voice acting. The characters talk and banter in a fun, natural way, and yet it still gives you a lot of flexibility in your responses. I also love how they get around the awkward and unnatural dialogue wait times—when a character will just sit there and stare at you indefinitely until you pick a response—by having them react normally to your silence. It makes all the conversations feel genuine, and if you don’t know what to say, the character will actually react to that. The personalities of the cast are distinct, too. They don’t blend together, and often react to things in unique ways. The different endings were a neat touch, as well.
The actual mystery was kind of confusing, though. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out what just happened when the game tried to reveal some of it. Another low point was that you can only walk to get from place to place. Given that much of this game involves walking and backtracking from one point to another, this can really drag at times. (I get that they need this to fill a large part of it with dialogue, but that doesn’t make it a satisfying experience.)
The real disappointment with this one comes from the lack of really interesting mechanics, puzzles, settings, or visuals. Basically, there wasn’t much that made it memorable. The spooky parts had the expected glowing red eyes, static and flickeriness, stuff moving on its own, etc. The kids were entertaining and distinct from one another, but not unique in a way that will have me remembering them. The only real mechanic the game had was finding the right frequency on a personal radio, which was kinda neat at first, but got old quick, and didn’t really evolve at all over the course of the game. In the end, compared to the other games on here, Oxenfree fades into the background.
Play it if you’re bored and have the time.
Tacoma
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You arrive on the near-future space station Tacoma as a contracted investigator. You discover that the crew has evacuated, and that you’re there to retrieve surveillance records as well as the hardware of the station’s AI, Odin. As you move through the different rooms of the station, you play the surveillance records, which manifest as holograms of the crewmembers that talk and move about the space. Throughout the progression of the game, you piece together who these people are, what their relationships were, and what actually happened to them leading up to their evacuation of the station.
I love the completely open perspective of this game. How you experience each of these scenes is up to you. Whether you follow a particular character around, linger in one spot as different ones come and go, or just seek out environmental details like the contents of their desktops and personal spaces—each of these different approaches provide a different experience. It usually takes a few re-runs of the record before you begin to get the big picture. Responses that seem strange at first are clarified when you follow the character backwards and discover the difficult other conversation they’d just had previously. There’s this intimate, almost voyeuristic feel to it, at times. There are no cuts or camera moves, no sense in which you are a passive viewer being shown something. You move through private moments like a ghost, as close and from as many angles as you like. If a character retreats in tears through a door, you have a choice; this isn’t a movie, where we see what happens or not depending on the cinematographer’s whim. You can actively choose to follow this person into their private space of escape. This gives it a sense of realism that’s hard to capture in other forms.
Another thing it does well is subtle environmental worldbuilding. It rewards a careful eye with a deeper understanding of the characters and the setting in which they live. In one character’s closet is an open delivery crate labeled as containing a sterling silver tea set, but it’s nowhere to be found—until you enter the room of the woman he’s in a relationship with, where you find it sitting on the coffee table (or, tea table?). As for the world at large, there are similarly small details that show how corporations have gained more power. Text conversations show that accumulated “company loyalty” is as valuable as actual money, and photos show these characters graduating from corporate schools, like Hilton University. It paints the picture of a future dominated by huge companies, which feeds into the ending in a powerful way. All of these are a nice backdrop to the main narrative, and help fill in gaps and satisfy curiosity without slowing down the story.
The story itself is satisfying and has a nice twist, but is relatively short (you can finish it in about a day). Although if they’d stretched it out much longer it probably would’ve dragged, it was still disappointingly brief. There wasn’t much that was visually interesting about it, either, given that the holograms of the crewmembers were just monochrome silhouettes. Lastly, there are almost no mechanics or puzzles, other than the basic finding-the-code-for-a-door-on-a-hidden-note kind of thing. Perspective-based storytelling is cool, but when that’s the only big thing that stands out, it can feel a bit one-note.
Give it a try, but you’ll find out pretty early on whether or not you’ll like the concept.
What Remains of Edith Finch
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You step into the shoes of Edith Finch, who’s on a return trip to her abandoned family home following the death of her mother. She’s ready to uncover the house's secrets that had been kept from her in her youth. And she’s armed with a single unmarked key, left to her in her mother’s will.
I love the Finch house. It’s tall and tilting, with extensions built out of its roof like towers. It’s something that probably couldn’t exist, or shouldn’t exist, but it’s all the more exciting because of it. It’s the kind of house that a kid would imagine, and then immediately want to explore. As you walk out of the woods and up to the front door, staring up at this soaring impossibility, that’s exactly how you feel. The inside of the house has a similar enjoyable chaos; huge piles of books cover the counters and steps in a way that feels both surreal and inviting. There’s a bedroom under the sea, painted with fish and submarines and lit with a filtered lamp that gives the impression of light through water. There’s a room filled with hanging bird cages, each with a hand-painted portrait of their inhabitants long gone. There are secret passageways connecting the closets of siblings, strewn with scattered toys. All of it rejects “normal,” but also never feels uncanny or strange—it still feels very much like home, albeit for a very unique family.
The promise of secrets is deepened early on. From the first few moments in the house, the narration of Edith finch lets us know that she was never allowed past that locked basement door, or that the stack of missing person pamphlets is for her younger brother, or that the shattered bottle and wine stain at the dinner table was from their last night in the house all those years ago. We see doors glued shut, we find hidden passages, we discover locks inside books that open secret doorways. It makes us question and wonder, ready to dig into the hidden parts of this dreamlike place.
The story is a generational one; as you make your way through the house, you discover the writings and mementos of other Finches, from Edith’s siblings to her great grandmother. Every time you encounter one, you’re treated to a flashback that shows how they lived, and usually how they died—because, you see, the Finches have a family curse. Each generation is characterized by deaths either young or tragic, and oftentimes both.
I love these flashbacks. They feel like dreams. None of them tell what really happened—but that’s kind of the point. This is a family with imaginations and a story, one they’ve built of themselves; it’s not strictly real, but it’s real in its own way. The curse, for example. Is it real? Not exactly—there’s nothing magical in this world—but it’s a story built around reality. Another example is their great grandpa, who was building a big dragon-themed waterslide near their house when it collapsed and crushed him. Their great grandma always told them, “Grandpa was killed by a dragon.” This isn’t a story about what happened—it’s one about how we tell the story.
But more interesting than these surreal flashbacks are the mechanics that they involve. In one, you transform through predators from a cat to a hawk to a shark, hunting prey. In another, you take pictures on a camping trip. One has you play through panels in a comic book. Another has you play with a baby’s toys come alive in the bathtub. Then—in one of my favorites—there’s one in which you start off doing a repetitive task in a factory, then slowly begin to simultaneously play through levels of his daydreams, which steadily become more and more elaborate and slowly take over the screen. There’s just so much variation that you’re always excited to see what comes next.
As much as I loved the creative setting and flashbacks, one of the things that really stuck with me is the actual story. This is a story about a tight-knit family whose name and history mean something to them, but also about the different ways that they deal with the perpetual grief and tragedy that they’re faced with—and how it tears them apart. Should you pass on the stories of those who’ve died? Or does that only strengthen the idea of a curse? Is it better to just…forget? Can you walk away from the past? Should you?
It’s an interesting experience, and a story you don’t want to miss.
Outer Wilds
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You wake up next to a crackling campfire, beneath a wide starry sky. The game tells you nothing; there is no cutscene, no narration, no tutorial. As you take your first steps through the early morning valley, you realize that it’s up to you to discover this world, your place in it, its history, its future—it’s up to you to discover everything.
As a brand-new astronaut about to embark on your maiden voyage, you’re tasked with exploring the solar system for information on the Nomai, an ancient but advanced civilization that once populated these planets. After a brief tour of your village valley home, you hop in your spaceship and blast off, ready to uncover the secrets of distant worlds—until the sun explodes. You wake up where you began, beside a campfire and beneath the stars, but you find out that your character remembers dying—that you’re caught in a time loop that no one else realizes. Your mission remains the same, but it’s backed with a new urgency. Faced with extinction, can the secrets of the Nomai hold the key to saving your world, your people, and yourself?
The world of Outer Wilds is unique and enticing. The small, Little-Prince-esque planets that you see in the sky, beckoning, each have their own special qualities. The Twins are two planets that closely orbit one another, connected by a column of sand that pours between them. Brittle Hollow is a thin shell with a miniature black hole in the center, orbited by a volcanic moon that rains flaming debris down on its fragile surface. Giant’s Deep is a stormy water planet with vortexes, floating islands, and a mysterious core deep below the ocean currents. Dark Bramble is a planet consumed by massive vines, far on the outskirts of the solar system. And, of course, there’s your home planet of Timer Hearth, an Earth-like planet with vibrant valleys, huge geysers, and sparkling caverns. The planets themselves are characters, each promising different experiences. And I love how drastically they differ; it makes traveling to a new one really feel like you’re venturing once more into the unknown.
And then there’s the civilizations that exist among them. Firstly, the Nomai: they manage to transcend the trope of the ancient alien civilization, and actually feel real. On your journey, you encounter their swirling form of writing, their timeless artwork, their gravity-defying architecture, and it slowly serves to flesh out an extremely believable race of people. You dig up their history, and find that they were a nomadic people who were drawn to this solar system long ago by the signal of the Eye of the Universe—a mysterious and elusive entity that appears to be older than the universe itself. They crashed here, and the Eye formed the basis for the religion of the Nomai who grew up amongst these planets. You discover records of the games their children played, the mistakes and discoveries of their scientists, and the loves and families of Nomai long gone. You unearth their greatest successes and harshest failures—you piece together the entire timeline of this ancient people, from their first days on these planets to their very last. Although they are nothing but bones by the time you learn of them, the game makes you believe that once upon a time, they really lived.
In the hundred-thousand-year absence of the Nomai, a new people have evolved: your people, the people of Timber Hearth. While the Nomai had gravity cannons and warp gates and orbital space stations, the people of Timber Hearth live in log cabins and launch their cobbled-together rockets from the stump of a huge tree. In other words, they’re…not quite as advanced. And I kind of love it. The idea of this adventurous yet rustic people setting forth from their tiny valley to explore the stars—it’s warming and inspiring. It’s a more human view of space travel, less metallic and sterile and technical, less detached—it feels more like a handful of brave, curious souls holding up a light and venturing forth into the wilderness. You see this same sentiment reflected in their bases on other planets. There are no airlocks or insulated domes hooked up to fuel cells and water vaporizers and oxygen tanks, no, no. To breathe, they plant trees (just go with it), and to eat, they build a campfire and roast marshmallows. They have a device that can pick up certain sounds from far away, and to check in on the other astronauts, one points it to the various planets in the sky—and hears music. They play songs on their instruments to signal that they’re okay. Drifting down from the stars, there’s the strumming of Riebeck’s banjo, the soft staccato of Chert’s drums, the light tune of Esker’s whistling…that’s the heart of Outer Wilds. We go forth to explore—and, in doing so, we spread warmth and life and light and song across the starry sky. (Side note, the music is not only great, but also manages to capture this very feeling in song form, which is a rare thing.)
I guess I should talk about the gameplay (although the gameplay is largely focused on exploring the world we’ve looked at so far). There’s nothing to kill, nothing to upgrade, no items to collect, no gear to unlock, no currency to spend, nothing to build, and no way to level up. Now, some might call that a lack of content—but I call it focus. A clear focus on one primary thing: exploration. Outer Wilds calls on you to explore the solar system, and because that’s its main, unobstructed goal, they can really make sure it works well. You’ve got a jetpack to help you easily traverse local environments, and you’ve got a spaceship that can zip around the entire solar system. The scale of the planets is small enough to not be overwhelming to explore, too. Complimenting this ease of navigation is the extremely open world design; there are very few places that you can’t go. Investigate that old temple! Head into those caves, or the ocean depths. Check out that meteor or volcano. Head to the distant island or mountain you see. None of them are false or fake—they’re meant to be explored. Which leads into the other half of what makes the gameplay so good: density of stuff. This completely open world is filled to the brim with bits and pieces of things to discover. No place exists just to spice up the environment—each and every location rewards you with a piece of the bigger story that you become more and more invested in putting together. And despite how many pieces there are (which the game helpfully stores in an interconnected map, allowing you to see how your clues relate to one another and what questions you’ve yet to answer), they still manage to nail the conclusion. When everything slides into place, and you finally understand what happened here and what you have to do, it’s thrilling and satisfying. And without spoiling it, the whole ending sequence itself was a different and powerful ride, going in a direction I didn’t expect but, in the end, fully appreciated.
Outer Wilds is pure adventure. It made me really feel like a space explorer in this fresh and interesting universe. It let me uncover the secrets and story myself, and then tied it all up in a way that left my mind spinning long after the credits had rolled.
I really loved this game. I think you should give it a chance.
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(Side note, all of these are on Xbox Game Pass as of posting this. So, if you have that, lucky you.)
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Say You Won’t Let Go
Pairing: Sam x Reader
Genre: Angst, oops
Word Count: Little short of 2,500
TW: some swearing, canon violence, main trigger warning in tags due to spoilers please check there if needed
Summary: A promise is a promise, and Sam promises to not let go
A/N: This is for @whispersandwhiskerburn ‘s 2K challenge! The dialogue prompt is bolded below and the song I chose to go with it is James Arthur’s I Won’t Let Go. I hope you all like it!
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Sunlight filtered through the leaves above, shining midday beams down into the clearing. The strong scent of the forest filtered through Sam’s lungs, cleansing him. Usually the simple moment was a quick fix to calm his nerves. Today, he was not so lucky. The sun caught in his eyes, exposing his nerves to the man beside him. The give of the earth beneath his feet grounded Sam, reminding him that this was real. He never gave much thought to if this day would come, and when it finally did he couldn’t help but be taken over by the swell of emotions that hit him. The overbearing pull to drag him under.
 He could feel Dean beside him, standing as a pillar of support, but the knowledge of his presence felt almost dreamlike. He could sense him, feel his eyes watching him, but he felt untethered. Felt as if he was being pulled in all directions, his heart yearning to run but his feet stuck. He was both present and lost to the world. 
His eyes locked onto you, shroud in white before him. The sight brought fresh tears to his eyes, memories quickly flooding to the surface, pooling in a mass of forgotten words and lingering glances. He could feel the softness of your skin, hear the lilt of your voice. The memories felt like gauze, meshy and delicate pieces of a life he cherished. Precious moment clipped through his mind in a rapid pace.
“Do you remember the first hunt?” He asked out loud, not sure who he was attempting to speak to.
“Yeah.” Dean’s voice was low, a soft response pushing through the cobwebs Sam found himself stuck in. “It was the vamp hunt out in Tennessee, right?” 
Sam could picture that night as if it were yesterday.
“Yeah,” his voice was thick, emotions conflicting within him. “She came ripping into that room… those vamps didn’t know what hit them.” Pride sparked in his check at the words.
A flickering memory roared into view. He could see you, the worn wooden handle of a machete clutched in your fist, knuckles white with your grip. Your chest heaved with thick, heavy breaths, adrenaline coursing through you. The fight was barely over. Your y/e/c eyes burned in the low light of the basement, a smirk playing on your lips. You had swung into the fight as two vampires had rounded on Sam, the glint of your weapon startling him as he noticed their presence.
“Sam Winchester,” you had laughed, stress rolling off your blood splattered shoulders, “I didn’t expect to find you here.”
You extended your hand, black ink wrapping around your wrist in a such a way that Sam knew too well, his heart jumping beneath his own.
“Do I know you?” His eyes locked with yours, ignoring the extended greeting. He watched the hurt skirt across your face as you pulled your arm back, the look sending a coil of regret to pang through him. He cursed himself for the response, questioning the emotions he felt churning. 
“Right, sorry.” Your previously friendly cadence was quickly replaced with stoic professionalism. A wall was thrown up, and Sam found himself banging against it, wishing for the bright warrior from moments ago. “I’m not as renowned as you Winchesters.”
You ran scarred fingers through your hair, the motion more difficult than usual due to the sweat, blood, and gore that had lodged itself atop your scalp. Quickly, you regretted the action. 
“Name’s y/n.” A small smile broke across your face as you made eye contact with the tall man before you. The small gesture wearing down his last bit of resolve. Sam had never admitted it, never told a soul about the emotions that flooded him that night you met him in the dark, but in that moment, he knew he was done for. He could never let go.
“She was a badass from the start,” Dean laughed, pulling Sam out of his head. The sound was forced, cut short in the still air.
“I love her man.” A burning lump choked Sam’s words, distorting the sounds as they left his mouth. “I need her.”
The silence around them was suffocating, stirring anxiety and fear in the stillness. It was too much, too much everything, and Sam could feel it all weighing down upon him. His mind was rioting, stirring up things he didn’t want to see, didn’t want to witness again. The voices in his head ricocheted and echoed, amplifying to the point of physical pain.
To Sam, you were everything. You were light in a dark world. He knew you came from the same dark places he had been, but you carried yourself as if you were untarnished by it. He was in awe of it. What he didn’t know was you were just better at hiding the rot.
You had gotten into the life like many others, a terrible night that ripped the blinders from your eyes and normalcy from your veins. Your family had been attacked by a group of werewolves while camping, leaving you alone, young, and wounded in a backwoods campsite in Maine. The mental scars were manifested physically by a thick cord of scar tissue that wrapped down your torso, a permanent reminder each night in the bathroom mirror of your shortcomings.
When you had caught wind of victims piling up in Maine, chest cavities vacant of an essential organ, you knew you had to go. Sam had found you in a flurry. You were a tornado, whipping around the room with force, throwing flannel and silver haphazardly into a duffle bag.
 “Hey, whoa!” He reached for you, the skin of your arm barely in his grasp before you pulled free, paying no mind to his attempt as you continued with your whirlwind movements.
 “Baby, slow down, what are you doing?” Panic was creeping into his voice, his words pulling together, trying to get anything out of you.
 “I have to go.” Another flannel flew into the bag, a balled up pair of leggings quick to follow.
 “Go? Go where?”
 “Back to Maine.”
“Maine? What th- hey!” He reached for your wrist again, catching the inked flesh mid motion. “What are you talking about?” Your eyes were skirting the room, panic barely hidden beneath their bright surface. “Baby, talk to me.”
A deep breath pulled through you, collecting your thoughts before speaking. “The werewolves,” you started, the anxiety of the whole ordeal catching up to you, “the werewolves that got my family, I think they’re back.”
“What- how do you know?” He ran his hands down your arm, trying to soothe the panic he could see building.
“Victims, four of them popping up right around where it happened before. Their hearts are missing, Sam! It has to be them!” Tears began pooling in your eyes, welling up on the cusp of falling.
He let go of you, searching within his closet, for what you didn’t know. He pushed aside copious flannel, all hanging erratically from plastic hangers.
“Sam, what are you looking for?” Your words fell on deaf ears and he stooped lower into the closet. He returned to the bed, his go bag in hand. Looming over you, he locked eyes with yours.
“I’m coming with you.” His tone was final, but you were too stubborn too give in. 
“No you’re not. I can’t go losing anyone else to them!” The panic was coming back, a shrill note edging its way into your voice. “It’s my fight! It’s my fault.”
“What are you talking about? You were just a kid, y/n/n.” He kept his voice even, not wanting to push you closer to the brink you were teetering upon.
“I should have known better.”
“About what? Werewolves, how does that make any sense?”
“I just should have, okay! Then everything would be fine, it’d be normal!” You weren’t making any sense, your thoughts were a cataclysmic ball of anxious energy waiting to snap inside you. Logically you knew you weren’t being fair, but the need to get out and get to Maine overrode any logical thought in your mind. “Just let me go, Sam! This is my baggage to deal with!” 
Sam could feel the tension inside of him boiling, pushing to the top and daring him to say something he’d regret. He knew the taste of vengeance, had let it get the best of him many a time, and could see that flame in you. Reaching for you once more, he tried to still your movement, keep you from self-destructing before him.
“Hey, hey, hey, just slow down. Okay. This is not your fault. I don’t care about your damn baggage. I just want you. . I just want you safe, and happy, and if getting you out to Maine to stop these werewolves will do that, then so be it, but, fuck, y/n, I’m not letting you go out there alone!” His hazel eyes searched for your wandering ones, praying to get his words to hit home. “I can’t lose you either. Okay?”
You looked up at him, no longer able to keep your composure. Tears were streaming down your face, sticky in the humid air of the room. The sudden onslaught of suppressed pain was too much. You curled into Sam, breathing him in and tethering yourself to his presence, afraid you’d get swept away. “Just say you won’t let go,” you whispered into his tee-shirt. 
“I won’t, I promise.”
The memory of those words sent a hollow ache through his chest. If he had known that this was how it would turn out, would he have let you go? Would you even have let him make that decision? Your steadfast stubbornness was hard to break, and even now he knew that it would have been impossible to stop you from going to Maine. That dark desire for the blood of those monsters was something you had festered on for too long to just let it go.
You three had been able to track down the pack fast enough, Dean coming along after hearing the severity of the hunt. Each victim had been mauled around a central point of the Katahdin woods, a mountainous wilderness near the top of Maine. A day’s hike into the woods had led you close to where you believed the pack was nesting. A quick campsite was erected and shifts were distributed amongst the hunters to be on the lookout for anything suspicious.
Sam woke in the middle of the night to bloodcurdling screams coming from outside his tent. He ripped through the door, not caring if the tent was destroyed with his actions. He knew who had screamed. He prayed he was wrong.
Tearing through the woods he bellowed your name, his voice echoing around him. The distant sound of boots snapping twigs behind him alerted him to the fact Dean had woken to the commotion.
“Y/N!” He yelled again, pausing to hear any response in return. Moving deeper into the woods, sweeping a large circle around the campsite, he knew you couldn’t be too far.
“Sam?” Your voice was weak, but close by. He moved further, close towards where he thought you may be.
A large tree grew before him, shrouded in the utter darkness of the night. Squinting he saw the hunched form of what he thought could only be you leaning against the tree. As a neared he felt ice fill his chest, tendrils of terror looping through his veins that launched him closer to you.
“Baby,” he whispered, cradling your face in his calloused hands, “baby, what happened?” He couldn’t see well, but he knew that the spreading dark stain in the dirt was not water.
“I-” your voice caught in your throat, “I got ‘em.” Your teeth were dark, equally dark liquid pooling around your lips.
“Dean!” He shouted, “Get over here!” The distant sound of boots on forest floor registered somewhere in his mind, but his attention quickly turned back to you.
“I’m so proud of you, baby, but what happened to you.” His fingers prodded you, looking for where the blood was coming from. Your hand enclosed around his, guiding it to the open wound across your torso, a matching tear to the healed one you loathed at night. Tears welled in his eyes as he made quick work of patching the wound.
 “They got me, Sammy, bu-but it’s ‘kay. I go’ ‘em.” Your words were slurring, blood bubbling around your lips. Sam felt Dean kneel beside him, hands hovering over y/n, trying to help in anyway he could.
“Hey, princess,” he whispered, “I thought I told you that we didn’t want you looking like the Bride of Frankenstein.” His voice was thick, emotions running high amongst the hunters.
“Shu’ up, Dean, she’s hot and you kno-know it.” The boys laughed, but Sam knew this was it. He could see the blue taking over your face in the pale moonlight. He could hear your voice fading. They were a four hour hike back to the Impala and stuck somewhere in the Hundred Mile Wilderness, a complete dead zone.
Sam sunk down, pulling you closer to his chest. His lips fell towards the shell of your ear, hoping you could hear him. 
“I love you so much, y/n. Look at you, look how far you’ve come.” 
“I go’ ‘em.”
“I know baby, I know you did. Just hold on, okay. Just hold on to me.” His chest burned, the pain blooming throughout him was unbearable.
“I lo’e you too, Sammy. Prom’se me.”
“Promise what.”
“You’know.”
Sam took in a shaky breath, the words you wanted hurting his heart too much to say. “I won’t let go, y/n/n. I promise.”
The weight of Dean’s hand on his shoulder tore him from the memory, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks. The flames were getting high now, almost reaching the tree line. He walked closer the structure, face wet with pain. He never thought this day would come, even in their line of work he had thought that you two would beat the odds. He wanted to grow old with you, watch your hair turn gray and dance in your quaint house’s kitchen. You didn’t deserve this, you didn’t deserve to be burning on a pyre before your skin could wrinkle. Anger and pain and a bitter numbness swirled inside him as he watched the smoke curl towards the sky.
“I won’t let go, y/n. I won’t.” He whispered into the air, his words disappearing with the smoke.
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