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Soulstice

Should the gloom of dusk’s morrow bring thee wistful sorrow, On thine eyes may dawn’s light tread So thou might learn to smile In torment’s stead.

#tom writes stuff #yeah i know it sucks #thelobsterdiaries #poetry #idk how i feel about the title

Great Expectations fanfiction, chapter 5. Final chapter.

Sirens wailed as fire trucks whizzed down the street hastily. The after-wind tossed Pip’s hair about his sweaty forehead. He recognized with vacant indifference that someone had called 112 and they were undoubtedly heading towards what remained of his home. Condensation formed in front of his mouth, which quickly disassembled as he ran through it. The 4am chill was no help to him. Blood pumped through his body and pounded in his head, only making the anxiety and hopelessness more evident in his consciousness. He paid no heed to his surroundings, nor to his most recent tragedy. Currently, he had only one goal; to make it to the lake.

This entailed cutting through the town common, and passing through some side streets that held all the thrift shop and lead down to the shore eventually. The common’s enormous fountain came into view as he flew past his neighbors, chest heaving as he struggled to get a proper gasp of air. The aching in his feet, the faintness in his head; it would have to wait.

Wait for what? He thought. What else is there for me to do?

As he covered the distance to his foreboding destination, he felt that he was going nowhere fast.

Pip reached the common, and felt a slight indication of relief as he noted himself one checkpoint closer. Everything was uncertain, everything was foreign, and everything reminded him of Herbert. He had kissed Herbert under that tree, bought his favorite Christmas present in that shop, shared coffee with him in that restaurant. Herbert had been in every aspect of his life since their first day sharing an apartment. All those years ago…

He stumbled down the hill leading to the lake and his face skidded on the pavement. He made no effort to put a stop to his descent as the grit from the road scratched up his arms and head. When he came to a stop, his expression was stone-faced as he got up and continued to head towards the lake, this time walking.

The dock beckoned him, enticing him with its tranquil loneliness. He dragged his shoes in the cold sand, eyes never leaving the wharf-although he wasn’t really seeing the wharf.

The clop clop of his slacks against the wood brought him to attention. He acknowledged that unfortunately, he had arrived. He lethargically walked to the dock’s end and came to a slow halt. The water glistened and moved ever so slightly. All was silent except for the crashing of tiny waves. He was still trembling from the exertion of running so much. And, reality slapped him in the face.

He collapsed to the pier and screamed. He wanted to vomit, rage, kill someone. The floodgates burst and tears cascaded down his face; tars that had been begging to escape. Herbert’s touch, his laugh, the feeling Pip got when Herbert told him he loved him, would never be in his unworthy presence for the rest of his life. This fact terrified him more than Orlick ever would.

The air trembled as its stillness was pierced with Pip’s wails. He choked on his own sobs as le lay on the pier. His entire life was over. He had reached a dead end. Everything about his life had been for Herbert. He went to work to earn money to support Herbert. He went on wlks to buy flowers for Herbert. He ate with him, slept with him, watched his favorite shows with him, took him out to spend time with him, breathed for him. The idea of continuing such a fruitful life in his absence was immediately rejected once conjured. The wretched gasps were coming out of him like firecrackers. He couldn’t contain anything. The wood around his face was creating a dark spot that grew steadily. The salty tears chafed his cheeks and irritated his skin. Once an eternity had transpired, his cries became empty, but plentiful nonetheless. He continued to lie like that until his bones ached and his eyes were swollen beyond help. With his dignity drained, he rose.

I killed him. I could have saved him. If only I had just acted faster. I could have saved him. He could be breathing. Heart beating. I killed hm. I killed him.

And now I’ll join him.

The look on his face was almost reverent as he pulled out Orlick’s knife. He didn’t savor any last moments; why should he? He fully deserved this punishment. There was nothing left in his life worth savoring, only blessed memories that he no longer deserved the privilege of missing.

He stood by the dock’s edge, toes just going over the water. He outstretched his arms and plunged the blade into his tender chest, blood launching from his sternum, bursting forth like a volcano erupting. Body fluid immediately drenched his damned hands, and he fell forward. The water was ice cold. The temperature struggled to mingle with that of his body’s. Blood pervaded the water like little red clouds, wisps of crimson. He relished his demise and eagerly awaited the void that welcomed him with open arms. He graciously accepted. The last breath left his nostrils and swam to the surface, popping unceremoniously. Orlick’s dagger glinted in the water’s refracted moonlight. It accompanied him throughout his declination. Pip closed his eyes.

I’ll see you soon, Herb. I’m sorry.

#tom writes stuff #thelobsterdiaries #tom liveblogs great expectations fanfic #yeah ik it isn't long at all

Great Expectations fanficiton, chapter 4.

If it seems like too much is happening for too little writing, trust me I know. It's just that I honestly don't really care about this fic anymore and I just want to get it done.

Orlick launched himself at Herbert, who had been tidying up the pillows on the couch. He threw a hand over his mouth and squeezed tight.

“You’re done, kid. Where’s your trusted Pip? Not coming to save you, it seems. Too bad you’re going to die without saying goodbye to him…” he snickered with his rotted, decaying teeth. He withdrew his knife hand and prepared to stab him in the eyes. He was going to make this agonizing. Herbert’s pupils were nearly taking over his irises; with a wave of fear, adrenaline, and determination, he thrust his skull back and felt his head make contact with the bridge of Orlick’s nose. Orlick shrieked in agitation and released his grip on Herbert’s mouth, recoiling to absorb the pain and shock. Herbert kicked the glass-topped coffee table as hard as he could, and shattered it. He lunged to grab hold of a notably sharp piece, but he wasn’t fast enough. Not when Orlick was so close. Not when Orlick had abandoned rhyme and reason so long ago. Orlick lunged from behind him and sent them both tumbling into the array of broken glass that spread across the entire floor. Herbert’s face landed head-on into the shard of glass he had intended on grabbing. It embedded itself into his cheek as he dragged across the floorboards, his face being barraged with thousands of tiny glass bits, drawing blood from every square millimeter they made impact with.

Orlick scrambled to his feet as a guttural snarl was let loose from his throat. A panic-stricken Pip came tumbling down the stairs.

“What the- AHH!” and at that moment, all of Pip’s worst dreads and fears smothered his entire being like an anaconda coiling around its prey- merciless. His muscles were tight as knots; a bead of sweat dribbled down his temple and he attempted to absorb the situation with reason and composure, but to no avail. He stood there, frozen with trepidation as Herbert lay bleeding on the ground. Orlick reeled in to deliver a blow to his head.

“HERBERT MOVE!” shrieked Pip, the sudden vocalization launching him into action. Herbert rolled over in the nick of time; the blade of Orlick’s knife grazed his ear and stuck into the floor. Herbert felt warm, viscous blood seep down his neck.

“Thanks, mate.” breathed Herbert.

“What the bloody tortoises do you want, Orlick?!” asked Pip, ignoring Herbert’s gratitude.

“I want your lives, brutes! You stood by and watched for years as that batty, blubbering hag nagged me like she was Queen of the world, thinking she was so righteous. And you, you little SHIT! You were always sucking up to Joe, tattling on me for the most petty things, like stealing cheese or killing a squirrel- I got NO respect in that household! My life was BULLOCKS! And now, now I can avenge myself. I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time, little man, and you’re not going to ruin it for me.”

“Orlick, I-“ Pip began. He was cut off by Orlick throwing himself onto Pip with his knife at ready. They were knocked into a bookshelf, which collapsed on top of them in response.

“HANDEL!” wailed Herbert. He struggled to get the bookshelf off of them. Unfortunately, he could not save one without saving the other. All of a sudden, the bookshelf was thrown off to the side, as if it were moved by a gushing geyser. It slid across the floor and slammed into the fireplace. Orlick came to his feet and bellowed vehemently.

“Why can’t you brats just die?!” he reached into his pants and retrieved his trusty hammer (now this could do some damage), but it was swiftly kicked out if his hand with a satisfactory crunch of bones and tendons. Herbert stumbled his way to the hammer and picked it up, immediately pivoting and swinging it just in case of an oncoming attack from the rear. But Orlick was in a struggle with Pip, an all-out wrestling match. They rolled across the floor, competing for dominance and possession of Orlick’s second weapon. Pip shoved his feet into Orlick’s chest and sent him flying. He jumped onto Orlick and straddled his chest, pinning down his calloused, dirt-ridden hands with his knees and spit right in his face. All the while, Herbert is standing there, unsure of quite how to take action. It was all too much; the shattered glass, his maimed cheek, his one and only love fighting with the man who wanted them dead- and the flaming bookshelf in the corner.

A candle had fallen from the mantle of the fireplace due to the impact of the bookshelf, and the fire had spread throughout the entire structure. It would soon spread to the rest of the house.

“Oh God…” whispered Herbert. The severity of the situation was ever-growing. Pip attempted to pry the knife out of Orlick’s hand, but in doing so he released the slightest amount of pressure from his left knee.

That’s all Orlick needed. He pushed up on Pip’s knee causing him to lose balance and fall to his side. His legs, however, were still under Pip’s body, and he violently squirmed and writhed to get out from under him. Pip lifted himself enough off the ground with his free arm to deliver a slice to Orlick’s forehead. He felt the blade tear open Orlick’s skin cells and scrape across his skull. The blood poured out of him and clouded his vision, his eyes saturated with it. He faltered as he came to a wobbly stand. He staggered about the room and collapsed into something unknown. The pain masked all other senses, including common sense. Everything was red, everything was hot, he couldn’t see- why was he so hot?

Herbert appeared from the kitchen with an enormous tin bucket of tap water and ran over to the flaming bookshelf, spilling some in the process. He ignored it and kept running, sealing his fate. He neglected to acknowledge that the water had spilled directly in front of him and pooled into his tunnel-vision path. His right foot went out from under him and he fell forward, unceremoniously slopping the bucket’s remaining contents onto as much fire as he could manage. It wasn’t enough.

He landed on his rib cage and his chin collided with the floor, recoiling only to bang into it again. Blood flooded his mouth as he felt a chunk of his tongue split between his teeth and fall limp out of his mouth, beside his cheek. His screams quickly transformed into gurgles as his throat clogged with gore.

Orlick had wiped his eyes enough to roughly see ahead of himself. Amongst a merciless cloud of crimson he discerned Herbert plummet onto the floor, Pip rushing to his aid, and what do you know, a sizeable scrap of glass within arm’s reach.

This cloud, however, with a mix of determination, did manage to obscure the searing agony in his back that was now licking his shoulders and hips.

He snatched the glass and hoisted himself to his knees, the pain making its first debut in his flaming neck. He knew he didn’t have long. He just had to do it. With the agility of a warrior, he sprang to his heels and charged at Herbert. As he drew closer to the duo, he felt the vertigo sweep over his consciousness; he had exerted himself too much.

Alas, he had gained enough momentum to plant his makeshift weapon into Herbert’s torso. It sliced his own palm wide open as he dug it into Herbert’s flesh. Within a moment, he could no longer differentiate his blood between that of his enemy’s; but it didn’t matter. The deed was done. Of this, he was certain.

As he waded into the void that was welcoming him with open arms, he felt all his past years’ resentment, anger, insidiousness and unbalance fly from his shoulders like a constable of ravens. He felt relieved beyond compare; complete. The only thing to accompany him even after he approached his demise was a perpetual stare of dementia, encased in his pupils to be a fossil.

As for Herbert, his only thought was hope. Hope that Pip would go on and stay true to himself. Hope that the ravens would not feast upon Pip’s life, capturing him as they did Orlick. He died with his eyes- those precious, steadfast eyes- locked on Phillip Pirrip. They gripped him by the scruff of his collar, and they told him that Herbert died whole, as long as he was with him.

Well, Phillip Pirrip couldn’t stand that.

He sensed everything he’d ever felt drop into an abyss in which he presumed he’d never escape. Herbert had left him, but his gaze would stay forever.

This gaze is what brought Pip to slam Orlick’s skull into the wall eleven times, followed by his limbs being twisted and yanked and stretched until they came out with a pop and sent Pip sailing. However, he only landed across the room to be back where he started to tear apart his ribcage. He dug his nails into his putrid, noxious skin and pried until he felt his arms burning. Burning, just like Herbert.

The minutes (or eternities, rather) that transpired during this violent array of vehement paroxysms were interrupted only when the flames on the walls had engulfed the entire living room. Amidst all the carnage, Pip looked up to see the doorway threatening to go up in flames. Only then did he take one last surging kick to Orlick’s ear. He felt his toes separate the skull into pieces beneath his shoes. Odd feeling, that.

He then bolted out of the room without so much as a glance. Feelings would come soon enough; safety was the current priority, unfortunately.

#Tom writes stuff

She was the water.

She was the listless vapor of morning tea

That tickled cheekbones and eased a troubled mind.

She was the fragrant afternoon rain that kissed the leaves

Traversing their spines with grace

and giving them life.

She was the steadfast waves of the sun-bathed evening sea

Reaching out to embrace the sand evermore,

Creating summer love and everlasting youth.

She was a steamy shower on a frost bitten night

That blanketed the body and soothed the soul;

A trusted guardian from the earth’s perils.

But most of all, she was the blood in his veins

Coursing through him like the sands of time

Never to be in the absence of his lungs, his hips, his breath, his fingers.

She was with him just as he was with her.

For the most beautiful bond

Is one of a spirited soul

Shared between two bodies.

#Tom writes stuff #thelobsterdiaries

Listen

The wind once blew

Whispering tidings of peace and love.

It whispered to the trees

And the sea.

It whispered to the deepest of grottos

And the tallest of mountains

To the mightiest of creatures

And the most minute.

It would whisper to whoever would listen

But us? We did not listen.

Now the wind blows

Warning the trees and the sea

Of the oncoming storm.

It has seen its power, its destruction

Its devastation and magnitude

And worst of all, its intents-

For the wind knows all secrets.

And some day the wind will blow

But it will not whisper

For the trees will be gone

And the sea will be empty.

The storm; the secret

Took it all away.

And soon after, the storm will collapse in itself

Never again to be graced by the wind

Or to see the trees

Or delve into the sea

Or climb a mountain

Or explore a grotto

Or to live among the creatures of the earth-

For we are the storm.

The wind will have no one to whisper to

And all will be no more.

So, listen to the wind.

For the wind knows all secrets.

#Tom writes stuff

The Hawk and The Flame

Roy clenched his jaw. The pain was dim compared to the initial blow he took from that bastard, Kimblee; but it was awful nonetheless. Riza was patching him up and redressing his wounds with the utmost care. “I’m sorry, Colonel-uh, Roy. I know it must hurt.” Ever since their wedding day, Hawkeye had been trying her best to call him Roy, but it was a tough adjustment to make.

“Please, I’m tougher than that. I can take it.” said Mustang with a painful smirk. “Almost done,” murmured Riza. Her face was rigid as always, the sparkle in her eyes worn away from years of military discipline. But Mustang was slowly bringing that sparkle back. “All finished. Does that feel okay?” she asked. He moved his arm back and forth mechanically. “Well, I wouldn’t say it feels okay,” he said, laughing dryly. “But the bandages help a ton. Thank you, Riza.”

She smiled faintly, looking away. She had never been experienced with relationships. Yes, she was happy with Roy -happier than ever- but still, she was uncertain on how to act, and what to do. Roy took her hand in his, and squeezed it. Riza’s smile became warm and broad, as did Mustang’s in response. “Time for work.” She sighed. She helped Roy out of bed and put on his uniform. There wasn’t much left to do in Central, given the destruction took that took place; but there was still enough of the building left that they could at least do paperwork and make calls, etcetera.

In the car, they discussed their objectives for the day and what not. They often reminisced their wedding day and the days leading up to it. They recalled them yet again with lots of laughter, their bellows resonating within each other and becoming one. There was a strong sense of friendship in the car, a sense of togetherness. It was heartening.

They arrived at Central, taking in the recovering carnage. It has been taking a long time to rebuild the command center, but with all the alchemists helping out, improvements are certainly evident. There was an enormous chunk of the building taken out. It had to be condemned after all the damage that Fullmetal and Izumi delivered. The remains of the building were still being heaped up, or rebuilt with alchemy. It looked like a warzone- which in a way is what it was.

A tear welled up in Riza’s eye. She hated seeing the wreckage. This was the place that she almost lost Roy. Over there, just yards away, she sobbed over his unconscious body, begging him to live. She relived the event yet again. Roy took her and hugged her firmly, kissing her blond hair. He knew why she always got so upset. It didn’t make him happy, either. “I don’t want to lose you, Roy. Not ever.” said Riza. “You have nothing to worry about.” Roy said. He held her face and stared into her crimson eyes, and kissed her fixedly, soaking in the moment. He threw his arms around her, and pulled her close. They had to appreciate instances like this. After all, they never knew when they could all be taken away, forever.

Once in the Colonel’s office, they proceeded to fill out paperwork in silence. Work had been slow lately. After all, The war was over with the Ishbalans, and the residents of Liore had dispersed throughout small towns in the east. It was back to normal business, finally.

Only after a short while, the monotony became agonizing. They needed a break. Riza approaches Roy’s desk, and takes a seat in his lap tentatively. “I hate all this paperwork. It’s pointless, and there are much more productive things we could be doing.” “I couldn’t agree more, Hawkeye. Hell, I’d rather be in battle right now-“

“Stop!” she burst out. “…please, don’t ever say that.” Her voice was desperate and hurt. He immediately knew what she meant. Of course, battle was the very thing in which all this inhumanity, all this barbaric savagery that we people call war, took place. “Yes, yes, you’re right. I’m sorry.” He sighed, and glanced at his paperwork.

“It’s okay. I know it’s hard to get used to such relaxed conditions.” She laid a fair hand on his cheek, and smiled encouragingly at him. He leaned over and kissed her again, this time lightly, almost hesitantly. Riza grabbed him by the shoulders and let her torso seek refuge in the contours of his, their bodies pressed against each other. He released his lips, and nuzzled his nose into her warm neck, breathing her euphoric scent. “I love you, Riza. So much.” He whispered. “I’ll always love you, Roy.” She responded. She ran her hand down his arm and brushed his hand, then made her way to his waist and kept it there. He kissed her collarbone with tenderness.

They sat in one another’s presence for a while. They talked like they always did, cracking jokes and complimenting each other. Riza’s favorite thing about Roy was how his long bangs fell over his raven eyes, and how those eyes smiled at her so gently. Roy’s favorite thing about Riza was the fact that despite her fierce loyalty to the military, she always puts what she thinks is truly right first, which is one of the most important lessons in the world. To call her admirable would be an understatement.

Riza tousled Roy’s tar-black black hair affectionately and planted a kiss on his forehead. The couple reluctantly returned to their work, yearning for the work day to be over.

At long last, the grandfather clock in the corner rang eight o’clock, and they eagerly packed up. Roy detested paperwork, as did his partner. Once home, Roy proclaimed “You know what? Let’s go swimming.” It was mid-July and scalding outside, after all. “That sounds like a great idea,” Riza commented. “I’ll grab our bathing suits.” Although her affection and love for him was undying, she was often curt. It was just her nature.

Once the appropriate materials for river night swimming were acquired, they were off. They often walked along the river at night; the opposite side opened up to wide rolling landscapes that eventually led into the town of Resembool, presenting a gorgeous horizon. The moon was shining bright tonight, illuminating the lovers’ faces and their jubilant expressions. It created a North Carolina-blue tint over the city. They approached the river’s grassy shore.

“Ready? On three.” said Roy. Riza nodded with a grin. “One…two…” Riza grabbed hold of Roy’s wrist. “Three!” They both yelled and ran into the water. It was chilly, but satisfying to the heat. They laughed joyfully and romped around. Riza submerged herself in the water for a moment, swimming closer to Roy. He looked around, wondering where she was for a moment. He realized her intentions an instant before she struck. She erupted from the water and yelled, soaking Roy’s entire body. “Hey, I was just about to go under!” they both giggled and Roy opened his arms up for a hug. Riza obliges, only to be thrust back into the river’s depths. When she emerges, Roy is staring at her fondly but also deviously, unmoving. Their faces communicated perfectly what was about to take place. The battle had begun.

They pranced about in the river, trying their best to get in the largest splurges of water. All the while their faces were beaming with delight, happy to let go of their worries for an evening. They tackled each other, threw globs of mud at each other, snuck up each other from behind, the prey to be greeted with an array of sand to the face. It was like they were kids again; and although they were both military officials with endless responsibilities and expectations, that notion was perfectly alright.

Both panting and gasping for air, the aquatic onslaught ceased. The fact that they couldn’t possibly control themselves from keeling over in laughter didn’t help. Roy half-swam his way over to Riza and took her by the hips. He traced the back of his hand along her side, taking in her lean body. Her slim stomach accentuated the size of her plump but subtle breasts, much to the Colonel’s pleasure. The Hawk gleamed at his chest, his beautiful abdomen, the veins nearly popping out of his biceps…but that was all taken away in a second when her lips were assaulted by the sudden impact of her partner’s. Riza’s emotions swam around in her head in a fanfare of infatuated confusion. She let her body hang limp as Roy gripped her body, leaning into her like a tango dance. They stared at each other with wonder and amazement. If either of them thought they knew what perfection was like, they were wrong up until this moment.

#tom writes stuff

It was going to be perfect. They were both planning this day for weeks. After much anticipation, it had finally come.

Breanna pulled up into Tom’s driveway in her Jeep, Sleeping With Sirens blasting. Tom was waiting out on the stone wall for her, kicking his heels, anxious to get the day started. It was beautiful out-75 degrees, the air was dry with a cool breeze- like something you’d see in a movie. There were even monarch butterflies and birds everywhere, chattering and gossiping around the big hydrangea and rhododendron bush they all took refuge in. Blue jays, cardinals, robins, doves, yellow warblers, purple finches, and the occasional hummingbird were all there in a cheery cluster of commotion.

Katie eagerly ran out to greet Breanna, who immediately obliged with a kiss to the nose and a belly-rub. She looked at Tom and chuckled. “Hey cutie,” she said, giving him a hug and a kiss. “Hi pretty!” he replied excitedly. “Aggh I’m so pumped.” he said in his Tom way. “I’m all packed and ready. Let’s go!” He slung his backpack over his shoulder and half-jogged around to the passenger’s seat. He looked over at Breanna who was buckling in, and couldn’t help but admire her.

She just looked so perfect. Not the model People’s magazine-perfect, but not the subtle-introverted kind of perfect that everyone online talks about, either. She was perfect to him. She looked so cute with her newly purchased hiking boots and her jean shorts and her star wars tee shirt under her pink flannel. She had this smirk on her face that screamed adventure. Her blood red hair fell over her shoulders so prettily, her fair skin accentuating the color. Her summer freckles had come in, scattered around her nose and cheekbones. He loved the way she looked when she drove; she narrowed her eyes and held up her torso, and she always fiddled with her right thumb and forefinger. He didn’t know what he loved about it, but that didn’t matter. He loved everything about her, and that’s the only reason he could come up with.

“How long of a drive is it again?” She asked, turning her head for just a moment to look at him. “Two and a half hours,” he replied. “We’re getting Burger King right?” “Hell yeah we are. Chickenchickenchickeennnnn,” she did a goofy dance and they both chuckled. “Turn up the music?” she asked. “Yate.” He simply replied. Now it was Brand New, a band they both loved. They started singing along with the lyrics, first normally, and then passionately and loudly with lots of arm-flailing like they always do. After a few songs of that they both laughed for a really long time, recalling funny moments, like when they hit each other in the face or when Breanna hit the curb.

After getting their chicken sandwiches and fries (one mountain for each) from Burger King, they finally got onto the highway. They played stupid car games, like finding license plates from different states and memory-alphabet games. Tom kicked his feet up on the glove compartment, something Breanna always resented but allowed. She wanted to hold his hand, but he wouldn’t allow her to have just one hand on the steering wheel; he was over protective like that. The roads were mostly clear. It was nine o’clock in the morning on a Thursday, and most of everyone was already at their daily destinations.

“What if our car broke down and we got invaded by zombies like, right now? There’d be no other cars to escape in.” asked Tom. “Well…you’d hide in the trunk and cry until I was finished whooping all their asses, silly.” She said matter-of-factly, smiling. “Nuh uh! I’d get out and fight…one or two! And then escape into the trunk.” He remarked. “Suuuuure,” she mumbled, rolling her eyes humorously.

They often talked about zombie apocalypses and other absurd instances. They continued to discuss things like school, bands, their friends, their enemies, clothes; their other usual subjects. Eventually they turned up to their last exit and approached a rocky dirt trail. An enormous sign loomed over them, that said “Welcome to the Lake Winnipesaukee hiking trails. Be safe!” there was a small Smokey bear in the corner of the sign. “Ooo we’re here!” They exclaimed in unison, parking quickly and walking towards a huge map, highlighting out the different paths hikers could take. The difficulties were color coded. “We’re taking…..this one, right?” Breanna asked, pointing to a considerably lengthy string of color which led to a big landmark in the center of the map after many twists and turns. “Yep, that’s the one! 5 miles, damn.” “Pff’t, that’s nothing,” Breanna remarked. After a long petting-session with quite a friendly corgi they came across, making small talk with the owner (who clearly knew they could care less about the conversation with his canine present), they were on their way.

The path opened up to a vast clearing forking into three other directions. The sun filtered through the trees and hit the lush grass in patches. Everything was a vibrant sea of life and vegetation. The forest was rich with wildlife and insects of all colors, all living in unison. An orange ladybug swirled around and landed on Breanna’s nose with grace, causing her face to make a grimace as she shook it off, squealing, followed by laughter.

The map indicated that they took the path to the right, which looked decent enough but ridden with mud and logs. It started off level and then began to ascend some 100 yards ahead. The duo hesitated, contemplating their options of passing through the mud without getting dirty. After a good deal of hesitation, Breanna decides to go ahead and walk across a considerably large log, arms extended for balance. Tom proceeds behind her, ever-cautious of the both of them, more worried about him falling on her than vice versa. Just when they were about to step down, a frog appears from the murky depths and leaps onto Breanna (who was quite the animal-whisperer that day, apparently), and she falls to the opposite side, coating her legs and flannel in muck.

“Aaaggh! Goddamnit!” yelled Breanna in frustration. “Well, it’s hot out anyways,” she sighed. “Oh I’m so sorry Breanna! I’ll put it in my bag, don’t worry about it.” He takes the shirt and puts it in a separate zipper of his pack. He turns back and makes a pouty face at Breanna, and pecks her on the lips. “It’s alright; I left an extra flannel in the car.” “The huge puffy brown one..?” “…Yup.” He says, laughing. “Oh God,” she says. She snickered and put her arms around him. Once far away from the sea of earthen sludge, they turn to realize that the frog that seized Breanna’s leg had followed them along. “Should we give it a name?” asked Tom. “Sure!” said Breanna in an animated manner. “Hm…how about…Logan! ‘Cause Logan Lerman has green eyes, and ya know. He’s a frog.” “Hi Logan!” cheered Tom sportively. “He’s our new best friend.” Breanna took a picture and they continued on their journey.

The route ran along a thin stream (which was what caused the mud), making a small trickling noise and casting an atmosphere of serenity. Little guppies and water skippers traveled down the stream, doing their daily tasks without a care in the world. They didn’t know it, but Tom and Breanna were both thinking the same thing. Those animals, they do the same thing every day. They always catch food for themselves and try to stay undetected from predators; they survive. They don’t take special days to go on hikes with their loved ones, they don’t stop to celebrate birthdays…humans are quite profound creatures, they surmised.

Onward and upward they went. The mountain progressively grew steeper as they continued. It was not unpleasant, however. There were so many obscure and unique sights for their eyes to feast upon. Nature loved to make art at any and all opportunities. Trees grew this way and that to form odd patterns, rock formations eroded into the faces of animals, ivy twisted around anything it could grasp, hanging from the branches like locks of hair, dancing in the wind.

“We’re almost there! Just a quarter mile left.” Stated Breanna, indicating a wooden sign nailed to a tree. “Thank God,” said Tom. “I need a break. I’m so out of shape.” “Oh hush! You’re perfectly fit!” Breanna and Tom broke into a small discussion on the subject, and before they knew it, they arrived at the waterfall.

Breanna’s jaw dropped. The waterfall was deafening. It must have been three hundred feet high. It was absolutely magnificent. And array of small rainbows burst from its depths, shining this way and that with the shining sun. A few small ponds were nearby; they could walk about fifty feet until they approached a ledge, where they looked down on the waterfall meeting the lake. All around there were other hikers with their pets and families, taking pictures and leaping into the water. Small kids were collecting interesting looking rocks, running around without a care in the world.

“This is amazing!” exclaimed Tom, spinning around with his arms extended. “Let’s take some pictures!”

They took who knows how many photos, acting their goofy selves like always. They took a few decent photos, but for the most part they just tried to look as ridiculous as possible. Afterwards they played around in the pond, cooling off. Little red salamanders dashed about in the water, frogs and toads sitting nearby, observing the hubbub. Breanna and Tom spent a good deal of time trying to catch them, laughing endlessly. They would put them on each other when the other wasn’t looking, they’d pretend to eat them. They had a grand time. After a few hours they decided to check the time.

“Oh my gosh! Its 4:30!” said Breanna with shock. “I wanna go to the petting zoo!” “I’m really just excited about the goats,” commented Tom. “But you’re right, we should get moving.” With reluctance to end their euphoria, they packed up their bags, ate a quick meal on the walk back, and made it to the car. The walk down certainly was quicker than the walk up.

“The petting zoo is just half an hour down the road, and it’s on the way home.” mentioned Tom. “I’m gonna take a little piggy home and name him Donnie.” said Breanna. She cradled her face in her hands and smiled. Tom looked over and grinned. They held the look for a while. “I love you.” She said to him fondly. “I love you too, Bre.” said Tom. The affection in the car air was almost tangible. Breanna started the car and they headed out. “Goodbye Lake Winnipesaukee!” they both yelled out the window.

It was a short ride to the petting zoo. At the parking lot entrance there was a huge sign that read “Sycamore Petting Zoo” with carvings of varying farm animals along the edges. They cheered upon entering and eagerly unbuckled the second they were parked.

Before Tom could breathe, Breanna was already at the pigs. She squealed as a piglet licked her fingers (which still had some cheetle on them from the doritos fed to her on the way). She begged a worker if she could pick it up. Surprisingly enough, her request was granted and she immediately picked up the piglet and held it in her arms like a baby. She gave it a small smooch on the snout. “Aawww it’s adorable!” then the other larger pigs caught her attention, and she was gone. Tom chuckled and went to retrieve food pellets. He went and gave one to Breanna, and eventually dragged her all the way to the goats. “I just want to ride one into the sunset!” she yelled out as she was pulled away.

Tom let out a scream. “They’re SO cute! They’re precious!” he attempted to communicate with them, but failed miserably. He and Breanna both fed them. They were quite friendly. “Let’s get a goat and a pig so they can make babies!” suggested Tom. “Um, yeah…I’m thinking, nay nay.” She held her forefinger up to her nose like a mustache. They both giggled and continued to pet the goats and give kisses, and did many ludicrous Mr. Walters impersonations.

They gradually made their way to all the animals (not sticking around to watch a certain pair of sheep get intimate). There were cows, chickens, lambs, an angry rooster, and even a little hedgehog! Tom and the rooster had a good loud argument. Breanna took pictures of herself with the hedgehog, talking about ‘all the notes’ it would get. Tom enthusiastically agreed. It was an adorable photo.

The sun was sinking fast, and darkness began to plague the horizon. After one last trip around the zoo, they decided it was time to head out. It took a long time for Tom to finally tear Breanna from her little pink babies. When he was walking to the jeep, he turns around expecting Breanna to be right behind him. But, as expected, she was back at the pigs for ‘one last look’.

Tom got into the passenger’s seat and waited for her. After about ten minutes Breanna gets in with quite the devious look on her face. “What?” Tom asked. “You’re up to something.” “No I’m not, I swear!” Breanna claims. She smiles and starts the car.

About fifteen minutes later, Tom notices a rustling from underneath Breanna’s hoodie. “Bre…” She tries to conceal the lump, bending this way and that, attempting to conceal it from Tom’s view.

All of a sudden, a pink snout emerges from her pocket.

“YOU STOLE DONNIE?!” “I’M SORRY! I JUST HAD TO! WE HAD A CONNECTION!” “Oh my God, Breanna. I can’t…I can’t believe…”

But Breanna had a huge smirk on her face. Tom didn’t know why; but he burst out laughing, as did she. They felt like they had no problems, and any problems that were still present were laughed off in that moment. They were kids. They were on top of the world, and they could afford to be careless. Not that stealing pigs is exactly the ideal way to feel care-free, but the moment just felt right.

Tom did not hesitate to take a nice long lap-nap on Breanna, who was much satisfied by this. They loved lap naps. Tom would lightly trace the contours of her skin and bones as she softly ran her fingers through his hair. It was always a comforting time.

The ride home was peaceful. They ran through the day’s activities in their heads, often quoting the memorable moments to each other with much laughter. Soon, Tom fell asleep on Breanna who was left to ponder in silence (it would be in fact very disastrous if she fell asleep as well). They said goodbye to the boonies and greeted the city warmly as they made their way towards the little old town of Methuen.

“Wake up, handsome, we’re home!” Breanna nudged Tom awake gently. He lifts his head up to see that they were in Breanna’s driveway. “Movie time!” he said happily but groggily. They waddled their way into the house with all their belongings and trash and got a delightful welcome from Molly and Chloe. They excitably recollected their journey with Brenna’s parents. The best part was they didn’t care one bit about Donnie! The family had been looking for a new pet for a while, and Breanna told them recently that she fully intended on buying a teacup pig, in which they were supportive. “Welp, I guess we’ve gotta keep him, don’t we? No good driving all the way back up there and getting involved with the cops.” commented Mama Forest. It was hilarious! They eagerly went downstairs to play.

All through watching the Nightmare Before Christmas (Breanna’s all-time favorites, and certainly one of Tom’s favorites), Donnie wouldn’t stop exploring the room and badgering Breanna and Tom to give him lots of love. They were happy to oblige, of course. Brenna basically quoted the movie verbatim as expected. Their hands were tied the entire time. They nuzzled up against each other and gave occasional just-because kisses (the best kind!).

Of course a tickle fight broke out…or more like tickle war. Breanna was the initiator, giving a good squeeze to Tom’s hips. He thrust himself off the bed and screamed. He holds a stare with Breanna; the stare of a predator. And then the games were on.

Tom leaped up onto the bed, strategically avoiding Breanna’s claws of malicious fun-filled torture. He pins down her wrists with his knees, and begins to tickle her under each hip, holding his face close to hers all the while. But, he loses his balance and falls to the side, letting Breanna take a jab. She of course has more power, given that Tom is ticklish in many more places than one. After endless tussling, Breanna proves victorious. Like always.

They direct their attention back to the movie. The last scene was up; the best scene. Tom and Breanna recite the finishing lines in unison:” Where we could gaze into the stars, and sit together, now and forever. For it is plain as anyone can see, we're simply meant to be.” They looked at each other beaming. Without a word, they kiss. It was soft, but then firm and passionate. They held it for a long time. Then they released and lay silent. They needed only their eyes to portray the love they shared. One understood the other perfectly. Not only were they boyfriend and girlfriend; they were best friends.

#me and my girlfriend #perfect date #we're cute i know #tom writes stuff

Great Expectations fanfiction, chapter 3.

“I’ll ask you one more time.

-Where

-do

-they

-live.”

“I’M TELLING YOU I DON’T KNOW!”

The tip of Orlick’s switchblade caressed the hair on her neck with tense apprehension. He had a malicious grin on his face that was ridden with insatiable bloodlust. The sewer was musty and dank with a repugnant smell of feces, trash and rotting something-or-other.

“I won’t let you do anything to those innocent boys!” she exclaimed, her voice a wavering, unconfident mess.

“Oh you won’t, Eliza?” Orlick pressed, flicking her nametag on her waitress’ apron. He snickered and gave the knife a slight jab, causing a pearly droplet of crimson blood to trickle down Eliza’s neck with slow intensity. Her breathing was shallow and coarse, sweat emerging from her dainty face.

“This is yer last chance, and I ain’t foolin’. Yer lucky I’m feelin’ generous and that I let ya love this long. Those boys are my business, ya hear! Personal stuff, none I’d want a lady getting into. I just need to know what house they live in so I don’t cause no commotion before gittin’ the job done. Now…you’re going to tell me.”

“No, no, I won’t, I-“

Orlick curtly sliced open her jugular, and a lethal blow to the cranium sends her crashing to the floor. She barely had time to scream; but at least Orlick got a chance to drink up the raw fear in her eyes before it was over. The pool of blood was expanding fast, her skull a splintered array of human matter. Orlick drove his jackhammer into the back of her head (or what was left of her head) twice more for good measure. The pale yellow light emanating from Orlick’s lantern glimmered on Eliza’s oozing flesh in a way that made him quiver with pleasure. He threw her body into the sewer’s current, not caring where it ended up. By the time she was found, the job would be done anyways. He didn’t bother to clean up the scene, either.

As he made his way through the sewers, a small rock escaped his peering eyes that sent him tumbling into the river of sludge adjacent to him.

“BLOODY HELL!” he bellowed with rage. He struggled to tread in the viscous, suspicious liquid surrounding him and engulfing his body. His arms and legs burned with the labor of keeping his head in the air. He spotted a vine growing from the concrete foundation into the current. It was mere inches away. In his attempt to nudge himself closer, he got a mouthful of the grime. He grabbed hold of the vine with his right arm as the taste infected his tongue. It tasted like moldy, boiling horseradish with a touch of human decay; and something else, something putrid that he couldn’t identify. He wanted to retch. He spit out as much as he could and pulled forward, hoisting himself up and over to the ledge. He tumbled over and breathed heavy from physical exertion, globs of sewage dripping from his body onto the cement. With a heavy sigh, he got himself up, kept moving and tried to locate his bearings, only to find he was nearly I the exact same spot in which he fell. He let out a surge of rage and kicked the rock across the corridor, balling his fists. He grimly pivoted on his foot and continued on.

Orlick hastened his pace down the sewer’s alleyways, his murderous desires catching up with reality. The ladder was coming into view. He could see his breath condensing in the frigid November air as he huffed and puffed, approaching his destination. The ascent was quick; he couldn’t contain how eager he was to pay the Pirrips a visit.

Fags.

With much difficulty he removed the sewer plate and shoved it off to the side. He planted his hands on either side of the opening and propelled himself upward with astonishing speed and strength.

Finally outta that crap hole, he thought to himself.

It was approximately two in the morning and the stars were thousands of shards of sparkling, broken glass their luminosity breathtaking. Orlick looked about himself for any possible passers-by that might find him suspicious. Finding none, he grunted and proceeded down the side of the road as discreetly as possible. His hair was matted with muck. The enormous black coat he wore was nearly ruined from being sodden with urine, dirt feces, and blood. Sweet, sweet blood.

I know they’re here somewhere.…

Orlick had followed Eliza from work into the house that he had just passed. Like a gnat that had been screaming in his ear, his senses suddenly became aware of a distant hollering from behind him. He managed to pick up a few mangled words.

“THIS…GONE…ENOUGH, PHILLIP!”

A twinge of excitement rose in Orlick’s stomach. Finally, all his plans and hard work were finally unraveling.

Just a bit longer…

It was going to work. Everything was going to happen in his favor. He could feel it deep in his bone marrow. With an explosion of passionate, blind mania, he bolted down the street.

The Pirrips’ voices were rapidly approaching within earshot. They seemed to be arguing about something- about each other’s safety?- but it didn’t matter. Their words were a cacophony of noises against the wind as he ran.

Yes, oh God, yes, just a little closer, c’mon-

“ORLICK COULD BE ANYWHERE!” screamed Pip above the deafening whirlwind assaulting his eardrums. Orlick stopped dead in his tracks.

…Blimey, I guess I shoulda been more careful, pondered Orlick. He leapt behind a telephone pole, keeping a constant watch on Pip and Herbert’s house; and especially, the windows. He analyzed the entryways of their home considering various ways getting inside stealthily while staying out of the windows’ view as much as possible. As the numerous possibilities fluttered about his brain, he noticed the overgrown ivy on the chimney, and the convenient 2nd floor window right next to it. With increasing anxiousness, he developed his plans of penetrating the house undetected. His later realization of the current situation’s simplicity was almost instantaneous.

All I have to do is wait until oine of them goes upstairs; then I’ll climb the cnimney and into the window. Then, I’ll creep un behind him an’ kill him! Hmph, but the damned window’s locked…

Indeed, there was no way of breaching the window’s defenses from the outside that Orlick could think of. He thought and thought and thought some more.

A light turned on in the 2nd floor.

This was his chance.

He sprinted across the street and over to the chimney within seconds. With frightening speed, he scaled the chimney snarling like a venomous spider going in for the kill. He bared his teeth as he grasped the thorny ivy. Ignoring the stinging pain in his hands, he stopped at the top briefly to put his switchblade (freshly strewn with blood) in his mouth. He kept his hammer handy in his pants, the head sticking out of the waistband. Not wasting any more precious seconds to catch his breath, he swung his legs over the chimney’s opening and began to creep down.

It was very difficult; Orlick being an average sized adult, had to contort his body this way and that to slither his way down, getting covered in soot all the way. The soot mixed with the sludge that covered him, creating a crusty, cake batter-like mess. His teeth began to ache with the burden of holding his knife. Eliza’s blood graced his taste buds with a powerful reminder of what he was here for, newfound malice pervading his eyes.

He peered between his legs. He was almost at the bottom. The air was stuffy and clouded from dust being aroused after years of rest. The sound of feet shuffling across the floorboards was growing nearer. He was now just six or so inches away from falling into the (thankfully empty) fireplace. With much struggle he clawed at his knife like a tyrannosaurus rex, mostly unable to move his arms. Eventually he just dropped the knife into his hand. He handled it firmly and almost affectionately. Quickly, he revised his plan of attack. He sighed and grinned. He was ready.

#tom writes stuff