#I had to carry it and a spring box up the stairs

[theworldsfairshoudreturn]

GOT A NEW MATRES! YYYYAAAAAAYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

My precious Jewel ♧

Bale!Bruce Wayne x soon-to-be wife!reader

A/N: I got carried away. I'm very passionate about Bale!Bruce and just lost control at one point. I'm not sorry, hehe! This is for all my Bale!Bruce girlies. Can be read for any Bruce, though! Enjoy!

~Fi 🪻

Prompt: Bruce spoiling you to the high heavens and only wanting your love in return.

Requested by: my lovely mutual @vampkennedy

Warnings: NFSW CONTENT. proceed with caution. PiV, creampie, very very fluffy, kinda possessive Bruce

Word count: 3.6k

PART 2 ♡

Please don't copy my work. I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.

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There was not a morning where you didn't wake up like this. You were alone, yes, but you knew he wasn't far. He never was. This had turned into a game of sorts. A spiel where he would shower you in lavish gifts every single morning. It was his way of showing you just how much you meant to him and that you held his heart in your hands.

You sat up in your shared bed and stretched your arms, letting out a yawn. Your gaze fell to the sliver of light that your curtains couldn't keep out. Getting up, you followed it carefully, knowing that he wanted you to. He was Bruce Wayne, nothing was a coincidence. Everything was intenional. A small, red box sat on your vanity, a note right next to it. It was being perfectly illuminated by the slice of sunshine cutting through the darkness of the room. A smile crept onto your face as you read the note your lover had left you.

My beloved,

May this bring a sparkle to your life, just as you have brought to mine.

Love,

Bruce ♡

You rolled your eyes at how corny this was, but it still tugged at your heart strings in the best way possible. Every day there would be a new box and note for you to discover. Placing the gifts in just the right spot and, like today, draping the curtain just at the perfect angle to guide the way to his love. He was always awake before you were but that didn't stop him. He'd never missed a day and you doubt he ever would.

You looked forward to this as well, but not because of the jewelry or whatever other expensive gifts he had prepared. No. It was the notes. It were the cruelly scribbled down words that made your heart beat out of your chest.

You loved the gifts as well, but the notes held a special place in your heart. Putting down the piece of paper, you carefully picked up the tiny box and opened the lid. Your mouth fell slightly agape at the sight before you. In the smooth, white pillows sat a delicate necklace. It was glistening in the morning glow ever so nicely.

A beautifully crafted rose pendant hung from it, the intricate petals were cold to the touch as you gently grazed the tips of your fingers over them. This had been one of most extravagant presents he'd ever given you. Bruce did always call you his flower. You brought so much to his once dull and gray life; his heart and soul bloomed like the delicate daffodils did in early spring everytime he thought of you. You brought color and joy. Just like flowers did.

"Oh, Bruce..." you sniffled, the smile on your face hurting your cheeks. Carefully picking it up, you placed it around your neck and fastened the clasp. It fit perfectly, sitting ever so delicately on your skin. You admired yourself in your vanity mirror, your fingers slightly grazing the skin just around the necklace.

You couldn't wait to show Bruce. Yes, he'd picked it out but it looked so different on you than it did on the silken interior of the small box.

Throwing on one of your many, many silk robes that Bruce insisted on getting in every single color, you quickly made your way down the grand staircase. The cold marble tiles sending a delightfully cool feeling up your spine each time you took a step. You rushed down the stairs, a steady grasp on the railing. The sunlight streaming in through the many windows fell right onto your ring.

Slowing your pace, you held your hand up to the light and examined the shimmering band. A reminder of his love. He had proposed to you just a few days ago. It was incredibly special, just the two of you under the stars. He popped the question in the stunning garden of Wayne manor that Alfred worked so hard on.

Speaking of Alfred, he was more excited than either of you. He had to sit down and went through an entire box of tissues when you broke the news. What a kind soul. You had the dumbest smile on your face recalling the events from a couple of days ago. Letting out a squeal, you pressed your hands to your heart. You were getting married. Not only that, but to him. The love of your life.

You couldn't wait any longer, you had to see him. Hurrying the rest of the way to the dinning hall, you composed yourself before entering. And the sight. Dear God. Bruce was sat at the head of the table in his boxers and a white T-shirt, coffee cup in one hand, newspaper in the other. He looked so domestic, so peaceful. Not like previous nights where he'd limp in, all battered and bruised.

Slightly looking up, his furrowed brows were immediately replaced with a wide grin when he spotted you. Putting down the mug and the paper he got out of his chair, walking your way. You met him halfway, your arms thrown loosely around his neck as his snaked around your waist.

"If it isn't my beautiful wife." He grinned, tracing circles on your waist with his thumb. "Ah, soon-to-be wife." You corrected him, the smile on your cheeks never leaving. He chuckled lowly and shook his head. "What took you so long, Honey?" He questioned softly. You laughed at his eagerness to see you. "I was held up by your generosity, Mr. Wayne." You teased, taking one of his hands and placing it on your collarbone, right next to the stunning piece of jewelry.

His gaze fell to your neck and his smile faded, leaving him wide-eyed and with his mouth slightly agape. He tenderly caressed your soft skin with his thumb, tracing the shape of the necklace. "I knew it'd be perfect," He breathed out, followed by a breathy chuckle. Your cheeks flushed and you brought his hand up to your lips, placing a kiss on his knuckles.

"Thank you, Sweetheart. For all these precious gifts. For always making me wake up with a smile on my face. You've made me the happiest girl in the world." You confessed, the softest smile on your face. Bruce swear his heart just melted inside his chest. He made you the happiest girl in the world? You have no idea how happy you made him. He felt invincible, like the king of the world. He was convinced he only needed your love to accomplish whatever he set his mind to. You were his oxygen, the blood in his veins, the very spirit of his soul.

Bruce was determined to show you just how much you meant to him, if that was possible. "Anything for you, my love." He said, having the most adoring look in his eyes. You'd placed your hand on his cheek in the meantime, the golden engagement band cold against his skin. "I love you, Bruce." You whispered, gently leaning in for a tender kiss. He didn't hesitate, pulling you closer to him by your waist. You relaxed against his lips, tightening the grip you had on the back of his neck.

You needed more, you needed him. He chuckled against your lips but complied, deepening the kiss. Pulling away for air, you were breathless and your lips were puffy. He would kiss you breathless forever if he could. And God knows you would let him. His playboy days paid off for something because this man could kiss. And you loved how you were the only one to feel those kisses.

"Look at you. My eager, little wife." A sly smirk was on his face and he made sure to emphasize the last word. You opened your mouth to correct him again, but he quickly interrupted you with another breathtaking yet soft kiss. You didn't now why you were so easily flustered by his kisses, you'd been together for years. There just something so electric and new about being his. Truly being his. Him being yours.

"I know we're not married yet, but I can call you whatever I want. You're mine." He said lowly, pupils dilated. His grip on your waist tightend. He's never done that. Never called you his. Told you you were his. It was implied, of course, but he'd never said the actual words. You just stood there, face flushed to the high heavens with the biggest lovesick smile on your face. His tone softened again when he spoke.

"I want you to wear the necklace to the Gala tonight." Your brows furrowed and you slightly tilted your head in confusion. "What Gala?" You asked, no idea what he was talking about. "Oh, it's a... spontaneous thing. There's a new dress in the closet." He answered. You squinted your eyes in suspicion. "Spontaneous, huh? Also, we talked about this, Sweetheart. I don't need a new dress for every event! I've barely worn the other hundreds." You laughed.

He just grinned in response. You knew he loved to see you in something new each time, he loved spoiling you. Only the best for his love. "That's where we disagree. Would you wrap a diamond ring in used wrapping paper?" He teased. You playfully rolled your eyes at him. "No, I wouldn't." You sighed.

"All the other dress just can't keep up with your inner beauty." He breathed, a soft look in his eyes. You folded. You could never be upset with him for long, you loved him too much. "Fine, I'll wear it. You're lucky I love you," you pouted. He wanted you to never stop saying that. That you loved him. Something he'd longed for, for so long. To be loved, truly loved. Not for his money, his status, his looks. But because of who he was. And you did just that. From the odd noises he made when he slept, to the extremely bad jokes he made. You were always there, tending to his wounds, whether they affected his body or his soul. Holding him so softly after a hard night, he feared you'd crumble under his calloused hands.

"Well, I'll get ready for the day. I'll see you later, okay?" You said, pressing a quick peck to his lips. He hummed in response as you slipped from his grasp.

"Honey?" you turned around, already halfway up the stairs.

"There will be a lot more press and paparazzi there today," he said. "Why?" You asked curiously, fully turning around on the stairs. "They're expecting Mrs. Wayne." He shot you a wink and gave you one of those signature smiles as he walked away.

He was right. There were a lot more people. The streets leading up to the location were lined completely with camera wielding, and very nosy paparazzi and news anchors. Everyone was hoping to catch a glimpse. This was huge for the press. They probably thought that this day would never come. Bruce Wayne, Gothams millionaire playboy was settling down? Impossible. The moment you stepped out of the car they were all over you. Invading your personal space, shoving cameras and microphones in your face. This was sensational. They wanted to know more about the woman who tightly held Bruce Wayne's heart in her delicate hands.

They had written some pretty bad stuff about Bruce in the past, not that he cared. But when one peticular news article labeled you as just a trophy wife, all hell broke loose. He sued them until bankruptcy. How dare they. How dare they lable his wife, his world, his precious jewel, as just a trophy. You were the light of his life, you loved him and he loved you. He loved you more than they would ever know and he would burn them to the ground if they ever suggested otherwise again. No press had the guts to call you names again, or they would feel the wrath of a very in love Bruce Wayne.

He came to your rescue pretty quickly. Positioning himself between you and the paparazzi, acting as human shield. Bruce gently placed a hand on the small of your back and pushed you through the doors. You let out a breath you didn't know you held.

"Jesus, do they not have better things to do.." you mumbled, hooking your arm with his. "This is their job, so no, Honey." He grinned. You rolled your eyes at him. You knew that, but did they have to be so obnoxious? If they asked nicely maybe you would actually answer some of their absurd questions. You made your way into the center of the room where the upper class of Gotham was already mingling with a glass of very expensive champagne in hand.

Bruce couldn't stop glancing over at you. The floor length, satin gown was tailored to perfection, showing of your body in the best way. The rose necklace sat nicely around your neck, sparkling under the bright light of the many chandeliers. Your hair was in an updo, showing off your earrings perfectly as they lightly swaying as you walked. Your soft hands were decorated with the many rings he had showered you with, the extravagant engagement band catching everyone's eye.

God, you looked so elegant on his arm, almost floating along the granite floor. The bright smile on your lips melted his heart as you greeted people. Unimportant people, if you ask him. "You look absolutely beautiful, my love," he whispered in your ear, his breath fanning over your neck, sending a chill down your spine.

"You flatter me, Darling. I'm glad you wore this suit, it's my favorite," you gently ran your hand down his chest. It too, was tailored just right. His heart beat faster. He didn't know you had a favorite suit. One that you longed to see him wear because it just made him look that good. "What's this Gala for anyway?" You asked, toying with the lapel of his jacket.

"Oh, you know, just some... charity," he responded with a breathy laugh. You raised your eyebrows at him. Your eyes widened in realization and a knowing smirk made its way on your pretty face. "Did you plan this whole thing just to show me off?" You questioned amused. He stumbled over his words, a very rare occurrence.

"What? Of course not, Honey, that-that'd be absurd-" you interrupted him by pressing a finger over his lips. "Fine. Let them see. Let them see how much I love you." You whispered, smashing your lips to his in a hungry kiss. One hand was on the back of his neck, keeping him close to you, the other was steadied on his chest. His hands instinctively snaked around your middle, holding you tightly.

All eyes were on you, hushed whispers and gasps filling the room. You pulled away, chest heaving. Bruce's pupils were dilated. "God, you're perfect..." he whispered breathlessly. He couldn't wait to leave this stupid event and shower you in his affection.

The Gala was a success and you were finally back at the manor. You were standing in front of the mirror in your bedroom and admired yourself one last time before you'd take it all off. Bruce came up behind you, the jacket of his suit discarded and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. He wrapped his strong arms around your waist and dropped his head into the crook of your neck, trailing kisses along your exposed skin. You let out a breathy laugh. "Look who's eager now," you teased.

Bruce chuckled against your neck. "Can you blame me when you look like that?" He said lowly. He dragged his hands up your back and slowly pulled the zipper to your dress down. With a gentle brush of his hand, he let the dress slip off your shoulders and onto the floor. You were left in nothing but your panties, which quickly joined your gown and the floor as he pushed them down your plush hips.

"You're a little overdressed, don't you think?" You said softly, yet seductively as he continued placing wet kisses along your bare shoulder and neck. "You tell me, Honey," he answered. The taste of your skin was intoxicating. You turned around, putting your hands on his chest and slowly pushing him towards the bed. When the back of his thighs hit the bed, he sat down, pulling you into his lap.

"I think you are," you mumbled hazily, unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it on the ground. You moved your hips over his hard cock, straining against his pants. A low groan erupted from his throat at your actions. You could feel your wetness dripping from you, leaving a wet patch on his crotch. He pulled you in for a desperate kiss as you reached down to unbuckle his belt and slip off his pants.

Bruce was left in his boxers, which were quickly taken care of. His throbbing cock sprung free, hitting his stomach. You took his dick into your ring clad hand and pumped up and down a few times, making his head fall back. "Fuck, Baby..." he groaned, squeezing your hips. Lifting your hips, you lined his length up with your pussy and sank down onto it, a long moan falling from your lips. "G-God.. you fit so well. It's like you were made for me.." you mumbled out, your hands finding their place on his shoulders. He was made for you, he was sure of it. He was yours, until the end.

He moaned out your name when you started moving your hips, which he guided with his hands. You tangled your fingers in his soft hair, occasionally tugging and pulling at it. Bruce looked up at you as you bounced on his cock. Your beautiful face was contorted in pleasure, and the jewelry he had bought you still adorned you so nicely. There was a layer of sweat covering your skin, making you shine. Just like your necklace glistened in the dimly lit room. You looked like a Goddess above him, decorated with delicate pieces of jewelry. Jewelry he bought for you.

God, he wasn't sure he wanted to fuck you another way ever again. Your ring was cold against his skin, reminding him that you were his. For him to take, however he pleased. He would buy every diamond in Gotham if it meant having a sight like this before him. Your hips started moving faster, as you moaned. "Shit...M'getting c-close," you breathed out, letting your head fall against his shoulder.

He was almost upset at you for taking away his privilege of admiring you, but he never got the chance once he heard your cute little moans and whines right beside his ear. "Me too, Honey, keep going.." he panted. You pressed your body to his, your tits sitting beautifully against his chest. Bruce glanced down and saw the curves of your soft tits adorned with the stunning necklace.

It molded to their curve so perfectly, making him tighten the grip on your hips, frantically moving you up and down his cock. He chased his release, your warm, wet walls feeling too good. You gasped as his dick hit that one that that made your head spin. "Oh fuck, I can't wait to call you my husband.." you rambled out, barely registering what you'd confessed.

That pushed him over the edge as he shot his load inside you with a guttural groan, filling you up. Your husband. That was music to his ears. That's all he wants, to be yours, to be loved by you. You clenched around him and came with a cry of his name. Panting, you pressed a tender kiss to his lips. "Did you mean that?" He asked quietly, kneading the flesh of your hips.

"Did I mean what?" You asked, breathing heavily. Bruce hestitated, letting out a nervous chuckle. "That you can't wait to call me your husband."

"Oh.. I did. I love you so much, Sweetheart. More than you'll ever know. My heart is yours, Bruce," you said softly, stroking his cheek. "I love you too, Honey." He responded, kissing you passionately.

"I'll draw us a bath," you breathed, raking your fingers through his locks. He hummed in response, reluctantly letting go of you. You slipped off his cock. He watched his cum trickling down your thigh as you walked towards the bathroom. He groaned at the sight, falling back onto the bed with a smile.

Bruce was laying with his head against your chest, surrounded by bubbles and soap. His back was pressed to your front and your hands were wrapped around him. You could feel him relax against you, the tension in his shoulders fading. "I keep them, you know," you said softly from behind him. The water rippled as he turned his head to look at you.

"Keep what?" He asked. "The notes. The ones you always place next to my gifts? I keep all of them," you spoke, tracing patterns on his pecs. "You do?" He smiled. "Yeah, I read them when you're gone and I'm feeling sad. They're in a box in my nightstand." You mumbled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "I love you so much, Honey," he said quietly. "I love you more, Bruce."

From that moment on, he put more effort into his notes. They keep getting longer and longer, almost turning into letters as he confessed his love to you every single day. You would still read them when you're old and gray, because his love for you would never fade. Just like how your love for him would never be lost to time, you would love him until the end, continuing in your next life. Your souls and hearts were bound, and they would never stop searching until they found eachother once again.

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[followthebluebell]

would love a list of low energy enrichment activities to try with cats. im always looking for more ways to be involved with my cat but she is 3 and very high energy and after a long day i often dont have the spoons to chase her around with a toy while she finds new exciting hiding spots to look at it from. this makes me sad :( i dont want her to be understimulated

Food-based enrichment:

Feeder toys are a favorite! But these carry the drawback of requiring cleaning afterwards, so calculate that into your spoons. Some of them are machine washable, so that may be an option if you've got a dishwasher.

Snuffle mats - another favorite, these also require the occasional clean but don't need to be cleaned every time you use them. You can make your own pretty easily. Or, hell, just grab a very cheap bath mat from a dollar store. Your cat won't know the difference.

Scatter feeding - literally just. Throw a handful of treats or kibble on the floor or down the stairs. Literally, that's it. Calculate clean-up into your spoons because cats aren't reliable vacuums. But it keeps them busy for a few minutes.

Toy based enrichment:

Get a cardboard box. Crinkle up some brown wrapping paper or whatever cheap paper you've got on hand and put it in the box. Congrats, you've now combined your cats two favorite things in the world: boxes and paper. For extra fun, add catnip (or silvervine or whatever your cat's drug of choice is), toys, or treats.

Ripple Rug: this is actually a specific product. It's literally a square of carpet or rug with velcro on the bottom that attaches to ANOTHER square of carpet or rug. It's fairly stiff. The idea is that cats can dive into it and make their own little tunnels. My cats LOVE it. You can probably recreate it quite cheaply using cheap rugs or carpet, tbh.

Cat crinkle mats: again, this is something fairly easily made at home. You get some cheap crinkly plastic and sew it into two old washclothes or something similar. Congrats. You now have a little mat your cats can sit on, bat around, and crinkle. You can also just buy them in multiple sizes. Many have catnip in them too.

Paper bags: cats just love paper bags. Be sure you remove the handles to make sure no one gets their head stuck. Most cats entertain themselves pretty well with bags.

Cat springs: those little plastic springs are a favorite, and so are those cheap rabbit-fur covered mouse toys.

Cat race track toys: another favorite.

Cardboard cat scratchers: the cardboard ones require MORE cleaning because they leave little bits of cardboard all over the place, but it is kind of nice that you can just throw them out when your cat is done. Any scratcher is good, though. I've listed cardboard for ease of clean-up and because it's a very popular material for cats.

Cat tunnels: like bags and boxes, cats just love tunnels.

I'm not a big fan of laser pointers or robotic toys. I haven't seen many cases of light chasing disorders in cats compared to dogs, but it's an issue enough that I don't readily recommend them. I also don't really recommend robotic toys because a lot of them make noises that cats don't like. If your cat enjoys these things, congrats; I just don't find them universally popular enough to really recommend. But I had to mention them, because if I didn't, my notes would be full of 'but what about Product X!!".

I've tried to keep this list to low cost toys and activities. There are other things you can do, like installing wall shelves or getting a big cat tree, but these things are more likely to be expensive, either in terms of money, time, or energy. I wanted to focus on low cost activities that I felt were more accessible to disabled folks.

[robberskisses]

The boy next door pt 1

* cw: matty healy x reader, smut to come.

fic: you move to a new town as a shy catholic girl, but when you meet your new neighbour you know everything is about to change. This part is more of an intro to the story.

note: this is my first fic ever so my apologies if it isn’t the best!! Feel free to comment tips and suggestions for second partttyy

Pulling into the street your eyes open as a beam of sunlight hits your face, almost like your body knew you are rolling into the street you’d from now on call home.

As soon as the car parks your family springs out preparing for the moving van to soon arrive. Fresh, spring air is all around, breathing it in for the first time you scan the house for as much beauty as you can, feeling a sense of delight when you spot the attic has a bedroom with a pretty little French style window. As you admire it knowing it would soon be yours a loud crash sound comes from the home next door; “Whatever, I could never come home again for all I care”, a tallish dark haired boy stormed out of the home, he wore black jeans and a top that you can’t quite make out the text due to his pace. He seemingly just exited a fight, and rushed straight into white van parked outside, whilst letting out a sigh he looked up my way and made a smile I couldn’t tell the intention of, it seemed genuine but also felt like it was telling me stop being nosy and turn around.

You swiftly spin around with a feeling of buzz, hearing your parents already spouting out comments about him, saying they had never seen such behaviour, but truthfully, neither had you. You’d never seen a boy your age act in such a way to his parents, let alone seen many boys your age at all.

You softly run up the dark wooden stairs to the pretty loft room and claimed it as your own as your father follows, carrying up some of the boxes. You feel a sense of peace for a moment as you plan where everything would go, your fondest pictures, If you wanted my bed near the window or up against the wall for privacy, until you started feeling the sadness of what once was. This room felt perfect, but nothing could beat the old memories made in your old one, the people left behind, you wanted to embrace this new life it just seemed so hard when you didn’t want to move on from the old one.

After the furniture was moved in and you begun decorating setting up my sweet little picture frames and layed out all of my bedding and teddies, time has flown by and it’s now sunset, going to admire the pretty skies you swing open the little window doors when you hear a car pull up outside. Your mind immediately wandered to the boy you had seen earlier, hoping he did come home and didn’t mean what he said. You quickly snap out of it, why should you care? You start mumbling out loud all of the reasons he’s probably the worst boy of them all and that you know what’s good for y- ,a loud creek interrupts you. It’s coming from outside, you sneakily peer around where your bed meets the window and took a peek as the cold nights air blew against my cheeks. Stomping in, it was him. Right across from your bedroom was where he had his, seeing him throw himself on his bed, he looks up. You quickly snap your whole body down, praying he doesn’t see you, feeling my cheeks begin to get warm. You hear him get up and walk to his window, slamming it shut and closing the curtain.

What a mess. You just made a total embarrassment of yourself straight away, he must think a creepy little stalkers moved in next door. Grabbing your favourite stuffy, mittens, you tuck myself in, and say my prayers.

“Dear god, please don’t let any other interaction I have go like this, help me make friends and please guide me to happiness like you did in my last life, Amen”

Ringing the same tune it always has, your alarm clock goes off at the same time it always does, 6 am. However you are already up bright and early making sure your makeup is done to perfection and your rollers are taken out as carefully as possible. Frolicking over to your wardrobe you pick out the freshly steamed shirt and little blue skirt, your new uniform, and put them on. Grabbing white frilly knee socks, you were almost ready. You pull your curled locks into a neat ponytail, everything seems perfect. Four sprays of perfume, slipping into your little black heels, and your pink backpack sitting at the end of the bed you are ready.

Creeping downstairs quietly you don’t want to wake the rest of your family, as you leave you pull your steel white bike out of the garage. See, the real reason you are up so early, isn’t because you want to be on time, or as prepared as possible; it’s because you want to avoid leaving at the same time as the boy next door. Another interaction and this time it could be confrontation. Him approaching you shouting in your face about the feeling of being stalked wouldn’t go well with your plans of a good first day. So you thought ahead and were already biking to school at 7:06 am.

Pulling into the bike rack you feel a sense of pride, everything went according to plan. But it quickly comes to your attention attached to the church in-between your all girls school was something you had never ever laid your eyes on. St. Mary’s catholic boys school. One tiny town and it already felt like everywhere you went, he could be. You feel your eyes jittering around the entire area, slowly making your way to the steps. There. You spy him smoking with a group of boys. You are actually more shocked at the sight of fags than you are him and begin to feel yourself stun. Black curls turn your way. That same iffy smile shoots your direction. A girl beside you is just as stunned as you. “Did matty just smile at you? Do you know him or something?”, “Matty?” You confusedly respond. “Matt, Matthew whatever, why did he just smile at you like that?” Another girl adds. “He’s my neighbour, but trust me I don’t know why either” you respond nervously, what did this Matty have that made these girls shoot questions at me like I had just broken the law. The girls look at each other in an excited shock, and welcome you in with them, they begin to introduce themselves and talk about how Matty is on their minds 24/7 and how all the girls love to attend his gigs after school, how they all admire the way he has no care for religion at all, yet will sit in mass without saying a word.

Matty. Huh, someone that seemed so mysterious and so scary, seemed like just another person now you knew all of this. You had read about boys who put on facades and have egos bigger than the sun. That’s what fit Matty, the boy who lives to entertain, but you’d seen the way he really is. Storming around, leaving home without a care. He must love all of the attention, and that very moment you decided you weren’t going to give him anymore.

The class had ended and you skip along the long corridor linking arms with the new girls you had met, “Just wait till you see how moody he is in mass y/n, he’s sooo cool” Lacey says. “ I bet he pulls those faces on purpose to try impress you girls” you reply profusely. They all giggle in unison. “I sure hope so” Meagan says laughing through her teeth. The moment you approach the doors into the church, you all unlink and you notice the girls try smarten themselves up, you do the same until you realise it’s most likely to impress stupid Matty and the stupid boys. You find your seats and feel your eyes meet the same tall figure once again. He slouches into his chair pulling a little lighter out of his pocket flicking it once or twice. The boys around him converse and you see one of them whisper something in his ear in which he nods in response. You pull your head around and get comfy in the chair, looking straight forward instead, you were so above any of that.

As mass comes to an end, so does the school day, you say goodbye to the lovely girls you had just met and make your way to the little rusty bike rack it had all begun at. Struggling to unlock the chain around your tire, a familiar voice darts your way. “Need help with that?” You jump at the words and swiftly look at him. “What, I” you are at a loss for words, everything feels as it has changed so fast, and Matty speaking to you, asking if you needed help felt like the strangest thing you’d ever heard. “I was asking if you needed help, I’ve seen you tugging at that thing for the past five minutes” he says staring right down at you. “What are you watching me for?” You reply, immediately regretting and realising how ironic that was considering your thought process this entire day. “No, just noticed my new neighbour having troubles” he half smiles, “I’m matty by the way”. You pretend like you don’t know that, and that you didn’t hear half of his life story at lunch, “I’m y/n” you say staring back at him. He bends down and quickly unlocks the bike, getting back up with ease. “Thanks, I almost had it that’s why you got it so easy” you lie. “I’m sure you did” he replies followed by a void of silent awkwardness, as you stand gripping to your bike like it’s about to be stolen. “Hey uh biking from our street is a long ride, especially for a young girl like you, I could give you a ride, if you wanted” Matty asks in a kind tone that distracts you from the fact he called you a young girl, what does he mean young girl. “What are you 50? What makes me any younger than you” you dart back, “plus where am I going to put my bike if I get a ride huh”. “Sorry” he lets out with a giggle “your a tough one aren’t you” he smiles with more meaning than he ever has before, pointing at the van you saw yesterday and the fact it has a giant space at the back for your bike. “I guess a ride would be nice, thanks” you say feeling a little bad, he didn’t seem like the scary bad boy you made him out to be last night, or the egotistical maniac you decided he was during the day.

He helps you roll your bike into the van, then opening one of the doors for you to get in. As you comfy up in the passenger seat, you notice so many little CDs around the front of the van. George and Matty mix. Drive like I do stuff. Matty don’t touch mix. You smile lightly as he gets into the driver seat. “What’s all of this?” You ask him quite nervously, hoping it didn’t come off as rude. He starts grabbing the disks and pulling them into his bag, “those are nothing, just stupid stuff”. “Do you like, make music or something?” You pretend to figure out on your own. “Yeah.. I uh am in a band with some friends, we aren’t too good or anything” he laughs “but I think we are getting somewhere”, “that’s cool” you say meaning it, you’d never met someone your age who had so much going on. “We actually are doing a gig, this Friday, you should come” he looks over at you, “if you want to that is”. You want to say yes with all of your might but you know your parents would never let you. “And hey if your lucky I won’t make you bike I can pick you up again” he laughs to himself. “Sure, il think about it”, you respond seeing his smile slightly fade.

Pulling up at your house once again, he quickly gets out of the van, speeding up to open the door for you. “Thank you for the ride I really appreciate it matty” you say with guilt, getting your bike out carefully he looks your way, “anytime love”. Then once again your cheeks are burning and glowing pink, your heart is spiralling, making you feel things you’ve never felt before. Walking off with your bike you realise life has never moved faster, but the worst part of it all was even if part of you wanted something from this, it could never happen, not even if you wanted it really bad. Your parents, your morals, you wished maybe things could be different.

As the day comes to an end you slip into your white cotton pajamas, and take your wooden cross from your dresser to your bedside table, hoping it would mean something. You swing open your little window to admire the pinks and oranges of the sunset, and feel that sweet spring night air blow strands of your hair softly, someone else is approaching their window.

“Hello you” matty says to you smiling like that meaningful one he shot you earlier. “I feel bad for you, you can’t see the beauty of the sunset from your window, it must be all boring on that side of the sky” you say looking up at him. He looks up at you longingly, “I can see something beautiful, don’t you worry”. Your eyes meet his in a quiet, but not awkward moment, you feel your mouth smiling on its own. “So, have you thought about the gig yet, what would I be if I didn’t have the support of my own neighbour” he says in a sarcastic but somewhat nervous tone. “Matty” you look at him, “I really want to its just”, he looks over at you patiently, you breathe “My parents, they just, let’s just say they are most likely the total opposite of yours, truthfully your one of the first boys i’ve ever even talked to my age and it’s just”, Matty cuts you off wanting to talk eagerly, “I get it, I really do, but that’s no way to live is it” you glance sort of puzzled, “ I mean how much are you really getting out of life in there, alone, and respecting everything your parents tell you, that’s sooo 10 years ago” he jokes giggling. “I guess, I’m just a little scared that’s all”

“Alright” he says softly. You half smile, watching him suddenly exit the room. He walks back in carrying a set of silver metal ladders, under his right arm, grabbing something off of the table near him whilst he kicks the door shut. “What, what’s this im” you exclaim, “Get the other end for me?” Matty says in all seriousness. “No way your no way yo-“ you get cut off with the ladders coming your way. He bends his head like a losy puppy dog begging for help. You grab the end of the ladders, “hold on tight for me”, he laughs. Then just like that, the scary dark haired boy you feared only a day ago is crawling across metal stairs to your bedroom, after calling you pretty and spouting out one of the deepest things you’d ever heard. When he teachers your window he makes a quick stop, twinkling a little smile as you two become face to face. “Watch out” he drops into your room, “Shhhhh quiet!” You quickly exclaim, “My parents they” he places his finger over your lips shushing you. “Quiet, I got it” he says before making his way to the end of your bed. He beacons you over using the palm of your hand as you find yourself obeying him and sitting beside him. “This is a cigarette” he whispers, “probably the tamest out of any of the scary, rebelling your parents items” he whispers. You look at him with a scared expression, you had no idea how to smoke, let alone deal with the chance of being caught. “I can help you” he says softly. “Come closer” he says whilst also shimmying towards you. Moving closer you don’t take your eyes off of him, feeling your heart start to spiral again. “Open your mouth when I smoke, then breathe it in when I blow it out, okay?” He speaks wanting to really know if your fine. “Okay” you whisper back, waiting for him. He takes a puff, leaning in to shotgun the smoke to you. You inhale it, carefully, going back and forth from his big brown eyes, to the little beige cross on your bedside table., letting out a little cough.“Look at me, it’s okay”, he reaches over to the table laying the cross down. “The only moment is now” he says turning back to you. “How was that?” He asks. “That was okay” you reassure him and yourself, smiling at the fact you just did that. “Again?” He asks intently. You nod, and he takes another puff. Leaning in once more you breathe in Matty’s smoke, as he looks down. This time you think it’s gotten to you, you find your body leaning in and pressing your lips against his. Everything feels so safe for a moment. He places his warm hand on your cheek as the moment goes on, you slowly pull away, for the first time not regretting something as you feel heat in your cheeks again. He smiles at you, with slanted brows, as if he’s never been this shocked before. “Sorry”, you whisper, “I don’t know why I did that”, “You know there’s nothing to be sorry for” he looks at you honestly. He pulls you in, and you find yourself being tucked in, as he slowly pulls himself beside you. “Matty if they find out you slept here too, I’d be dead” you fear to him. “No one’s going to know, it’s not like gods watching” he quietly giggles to you. Like any sane person you feel a sense of doubt though, whilst Matty seems to be the most caring and kind soul you’ve ever met, you fear he is just using you and this will all end in tears. “You aren’t.. you aren’t just doing this so you can get more are you?” You whisper to him whilst lying face to face. “Hey, you kissed me little lady” he murmurs, “I do fancy you loads though, so don’t worry about me, I’d never try hurting you”

Pulling you a little closer you slowly drift into deep sleep, feeling the world go quiet for a little while.

[asbealthgn]

(sorry about the last one! but not that sorry. this builds on it so read that part first!)

Spring 1986

Just once, Steve would like to go twelve months without the world falling apart. Just 365 days without some fresh new hell opening up. That doesn’t seem like so much to ask, but apparently, life has other ideas.

He’s currently curled up on a chair in the Wheeler’s basement for the second night in a row. In the past seventy-two hours, he’s been threatened with a broken bottle to his neck, found out about two murders at the hands of some unknown dark wizard from the Upside Down, and almost watched Max get taken herself. And it’s still ongoing.

Everyone else is asleep except for Robin, who has the first shift watching over Max. Steve can see her through the dark, sitting with her back against the couch by Max’s feet. Robin’s fingers are drumming silently along her knees, tapping out a frantic rhythm. Steve knows he should be trying to sleep, because he has the next shift in two hours, but he can’t. Not when his mind is miles away in a boathouse on Lover’s Lake.

Eddie is alone over there.

He must be terrified. He was only thrust into this other world a few days ago when he watched a girl die right in front of him. If Steve can’t stop picturing Max lifting into the air while they waited helplessly below, he can only imagine how horrific the afterimages of Vecna’s curse being carried out to completion must be. Eddie was a babbling mess when they found him, and it can’t have possibly gotten easier being stuck in that boathouse by himself the last couple of nights. That has to be the worst part, the being alone. Whenever Steve has been recovering from his brushes with the Upside Down, he’s never truly been alone; there have always been friends to turn to, even if he’s not always the best at doing so. There’s still a world to escape to, places he can go to feel normal again. But Eddie has no one, confined to a small box while police and pissed off jocks hunt for his blood.

Steve doesn’t want Eddie to be alone. He has no idea if Eddie would even want to see him considering how they left things, but Eddie deserves to have someone by his side right now. So Steve lowers his feet off the chair and leans over to tap Robin’s shoulder. She starts and looks at him. 

“What’s wrong?” she whispers.

“Nothing,” Steve says, “Everything’s fine. Just—I’m heading out for a bit.”

She angles to face him more fully. “What?” she asks, “You can’t leave.”

“It’s just for a little while,” he assures her, “I’ll be back by the time I need to watch Max.”

“Steve—”

“It’s important, okay?”

“Steve, no offense,” Robin hisses, scooting closer and grabbing his ankle. “But there is nothing in the world that could be more important than sticking together right now.”

Sighing, Steve lowers himself off the chair and sits on the ground next to her. He wanted to avoid this, but it looks like it’s the only way. Maybe it’ll feel good to tell her. He leans close to her to whisper as softly as he can. “You remember last summer, when I told you about that guy I liked?”

She nods. 

He leans even closer, voice almost inaudible. “It’s Eddie.”

It’s too dark to see her expression, but she grabs his hand and squeezes it. “Oh,” she whispers, “I understand.”

“I just want to make sure he’s okay,” he says, “He’s been alone for days.”

There’s a pressure as she leans her head on his shoulder. “Go to him,” she says, “I’ll cover for you if anyone wakes up.”

“I love you, Robin,” he says, turning and kissing her on the forehead. Then he gets to his feet. “Thank you.”

He ascends the stairs as quietly as he can and goes out the front door. Thank God he parked his car at the end of the driveway behind Nancy’s. He pulls away from the house and starts heading for the lake. 

As he drives, he thinks about the last time he saw Eddie five months ago. He still doesn’t understand what happened. He thought things had been going well with Eddie—he thought they really liked each other. Steve knows he should have done more to tell Eddie how he felt. He knows he shouldn’t have deflected every time Eddie tried to have a conversation about what they were. He knows he was scared. But he thought they’d have time. Instead he’d shown up that day and Eddie had ended things without telling him why. The only reason Steve can think of is his own cowardice. And he hates himself for not being more ready. Maybe if he had been, he and Eddie would still be together. 

Steve isn’t sure if Eddie will turn him away now. The two times they’ve seen each other since this all started, Eddie acted like they’d never even met. He came rocketing out of that boat brandishing a broken bottle, holding it up to Steve’s throat like he might really slit it. That was the first time Steve had seen him since he’d slammed the door in his face.

Parking outside of Reefer Rick’s place, Steve gets out of his car and makes his way to the boathouse, wondering what his reception will be like. He just hopes Eddie doesn’t send him back. Steve wants to help, wants to be there for Eddie. He hopes Eddie lets him. 

He eases the door to the boathouse open. “Eddie?” he calls softly.

There’s no answer. It occurs to him that Eddie may be sleeping. If so, he doesn’t want to disturb him. Steve moves quietly inside, shutting the door behind him. He looks around, but doesn’t see Eddie. He wouldn’t have left, would he? Or maybe he was found, either by the police or by Jason and his cronies. 

Steve moves through the boathouse with more purpose, trying to hold off the panic threatening to bubble up. “Eddie,” he calls again, not daring to raise his voice for fear of alerting the neighbors. 

Again, there’s no answer, but he hears the faintest shuffling from the boat. Relieved, Steve crosses to it and pulls the tarp back. Eddie is lying on his back, staring up at Steve with those big eyes. 

“Why are you here, Harrington?” he asks.

“I came to check on you,” Steve says.

Eddie looks away from him. “Great, well, you’ve checked on me,” he says, “You can go now.” He reaches for the end of the tarp and starts to pull it back over himself, but Steve grabs it before he can.

“Hey,” he says, “You’ve been alone for days, and you’ve seen some shit. You—” Steve digs in his jacket pocket and produces a pack of cigarettes. “Do you want one?”

For a long moment, Eddie just stares at the offered cigarette, not moving. Then with a small sigh, he sits up and climbs out of the boat to take it. Steve holds out his lighter, but Eddie gets his own out of his pocket. He pushes past Steve and sits on the bench along the wall. After a moment, Steve sits next to him. Eddie won’t look at him. 

This is going great so far. 

“Do you want to talk about it at all?” Steve asks. 

Eddie shrugs. “I’ve already said all there is to say.”

“Alright.”

True to his word, Eddie is silent. Steve listens to the quiet breathing of the man next to him, the long inhales as he takes a drag. He listens to his own heartbeat, loud and persistent. 

“How—” Eddie begins. Steve looks over at him and sees Eddie’s hand covering his face. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“This. Handle this shit. I—I feel like I’m losing my fucking mind.”

Steve angles his body, knees almost touching Eddie’s. “Well, you’ve seen me,” he says, “You’ve held my hand through enough panic attacks to know I don’t exactly handle it.”

Eddie drops his hand and looks at Steve, expression pained. Steve holds his hand out. Eddie doesn’t take it. Instead he folds his arms around himself, angling away from Steve. Steve retracts his hand.

“I’m fine,” Eddie says, “Still don’t know why you bothered to come.”

“Because I didn’t want you to be alone,” Steve says, “Because I care about you.”

That earns him a huff of air, an annoyed exhale. “Yeah, whatever.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Steve asks. “You don’t think I care?”

Eddie takes a long drag of the cigarette. “Why should I think you do?”

Steve stands abruptly. This isn’t getting him anywhere. He wanted to be helpful, but he’s not going to stick around if Eddie’s just going to be a dick. “Alright,” he says, “I’ll go. I need to take over watching Max for Robin, anyway.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to keep Robin waiting,” Eddie says drily. 

Hands on his hips, Steve turns to stand right in front of Eddie. “What, you have a problem with Robin now too?”

“Why would I have a problem with her?” Eddie asks, shrugging. “Everyone loves your girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

Eddie raises the cigarette to his lips again. “You expect me to believe that?”

“Well, yeah, considering it’s the truth,” Steve says, “We’re just friends.”

“But you’re clearly sleeping together.”

“Absolutely not, man,” Steve says, “Why the fuck would you think that?”

Brow furrowed, Eddie waves the cigarette vaguely. “You’re so…close,” he says.

“Yeah, she’s my best friend,” Steve says, crossing his arms. “And we survived Russian torture together, so yeah. We’re gonna be close.”

“You survived—what?”

“Not the point. The point is Robin and I are not together. Never have been, never will be.”

Eddie is staring up at him, mouth slightly open. Steve can’t quite read his expression. “You…” Eddie says. “You’re not?”

“No, definitely not,” Steve says. “Is that why you’re so mad at me?”

Eddie stubs out the cigarette and drops it, then runs his hands over his face. “I saw you,” he says, voice muffled. “In October, I saw you at the diner in town all cuddled up with her. I thought she was your girlfriend.”

“You thought—but, Eddie, I was with you.”

Still hiding behind his hands, Eddie shakes his head slightly. “I thought she was your girlfriend and that you were fooling around with me behind her back.”

Steve is frozen to the spot. This is why Eddie ended things? Not because Steve wasn’t ready to label things but because Eddie thought he was a cheater? 

“I wouldn’t do that,” Steve says, his voice coming out angrier than he expected. “And it sucks that you think I would.”

He turns and takes a step towards the door, but he’s held back by a hand on his wrist. “Wait, Steve,” Eddie says. He stands and moves around to face Steve. “I—I really thought—”

“I’m not that kind of person,” Steve says. He’s not. Even in his King Steve days, he never kept multiple girls on the line. When he loves, he’s all in. He’s not a fucking cheater.

Eddie puts his hands on Steve’s arms like he’s trying to keep him from running away. “I’m so sorry I thought that,” he says, “I just—I didn’t understand why you would be holding her like that. I mean, how was I supposed to know what your relationship was like? It’s not like you ever introduced me to any of your friends.”

That feels like a slap in the face. “You could have asked.”

Shaking his head slightly, Eddie goes on. “Sorry, no, I shouldn’t be trying to blame you, I—” He pinches his eyes shut. “It really didn’t make any sense. I didn’t understand why you were with me. You with me. It doesn’t—I mean, look at me.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re—Steve Harrington. The golden boy,” Eddie says, opening his eyes. “And I’m a freak.”

“No you’re not,” Steve says.

“I am,” Eddie says, “You know I am.”

“Okay, well, I really fucking liked you,” Steve says, “Whatever you are. I don’t care if you have, like, unconventional interests. I really wanted to be with you.”

Eddie looks like he might cry. “I wanted that too,” he whispers.

“I wish you had talked to me,” Steve says, voice gentler. “I wish you’d told me what you thought you saw so I could have explained then.”

Eddie closes his eyes. “I thought I already had my answer,” he says, “I thought you—I mean, I tried to talk to you, about what we were. And you always avoided it.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve says. Tentatively, he lifts a hand to Eddie’s hair and Eddie leans in ever so slightly to the touch. “I should have told you how I felt about you. But I was scared. I mean, I’ve never liked a boy until you. It’s been—terrifying.”

“I understand,” Eddie says, opening his eyes. “And I’m sorry. Maybe we both kind of suck at talking.”

Steve smiles slightly. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Do you think we could, uh, start over?” Eddie asks, “Pretend all of that never happened and just go from here?”

“I’d like that,” Steve says. He puts his arms around Eddie, burying his face in the other man’s shoulder and they stand like that for a while, clinging to each other. He knows they’ll need to talk more, work out the issues that led them to this place and figure out where they’re going from here. But for now, he’s happy to just be touching Eddie.

“Hey, Steve?” Eddie asks, gripping him a little tighter. “Will you stay for a little while?”

Steve runs a hand through Eddie’s hair. “Of course I will.”

Eddie takes his hand and leads him over to the boat, climbing back in. They lay side by side on the bottom, tucked close together. It’s not even remotely comfortable, but Steve doesn’t really care. All that matters is that he’s holding onto Eddie and Eddie is holding him back.

“When do you have to leave?” Eddie asks, face against Steve’s shoulder. Steve checks his watch.

“In about an hour.”

“And why—you said you’re watching Max?” Eddie says. “Why does she need watching?”

“Oh,” Steve says. He sort of forgot that Eddie doesn’t know. “Vecna almost got her.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie says, tilting his face to look at Steve. “Is she okay?”

Steve shrugs. “I think so. No broken bones or anything,” he says, “But she’s definitely freaked out. We all are.”

Shifting a little, Eddie frowns. “How did she survive?”

As quickly and coherently as he can, Steve explains the discovery that Robin and Nancy made about music and Max’s description of what she saw. He stumbles over the explanation, since he’s not sure he completely grasps it. He wishes Dustin was here to describe it better. But Eddie nods along like he gets it.

“Music is powerful shit, man,” he whispers.

Steve nods. “Yeah, it saved her life,” he says, “We have her listening to the song on loop, and somebody staying awake to keep an eye on her in case she starts lifting again.”

He feels Eddie tense slightly, probably remembering Chrissy. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” he says. 

“It was fucking terrifying,” Steve says, “I’m so sorry you had to go through it alone.”

Eddie tucks his face back against Steve’s neck, not saying anything. For a long time, they just hold each other. As terrible as the circumstances are, there is something oddly comforting about being in this boat with Eddie, bonded by their shared history and this new misery. 

“You can sleep, if you want,” Eddie whispers eventually. “I’ll wake you up when you need to leave.”

“No, that’s okay,” Steve says, “You should sleep.”

“I’m not tired,” Eddie says, “I slept all day when it was light out. I can’t seem to fall asleep in the dark.”

Steve knows that feeling exactly. He’s gone through it enough times to know how much worse the darkness makes the nightmares. Now though, he’s so exhausted from the day that all he wants is to sleep. “Are you sure?” he asks.

“Sleep, baby,” Eddie murmurs, and Steve could cry from the return of that name. “I’ll wake you up.”

(part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21)

taglist: @adashofaroace @spectrum-spectre @girlwhoknewtheoriginoflove @cupc8keblonde @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @leeahpuppet  @bidisastersworld @axltheedaddy @crushed-like-an-ant @whimsicalwitchm @hollysimone @awolfnamedaliac @gay-little-bitch @duckyreads @nelotegreitic @henderdads @iamsotiredman @thegingervulcan @mezmatch @stranger-poets-society @official-insanity-c @briceslayed @ohwelsh @lonestarcowpoke @lycriza @bejeweledbaby @a-huge-nerdy-nerd @cnfsd-bisexual @cheeseaddict-12 @wrenisflying @swimmingbirdrunningrock @sadcanadianwinter @ash-a-confused-enby @grtwdsmwhr @edgelordesworld @vecnuthy @lightwoodbanethings @soulminyg @notbatman00 @steve-the-hairrington @lizisodd @artiststarme @queerbeansworld @thegingerrapunzel @ceaselessly-watching @best-selling-show @idkwwhatimmdoiing @ashlynjessi @yes-im-your-mom @steddie-there @thefailcollection @samcoxramblings @beeing-stuupid

lmk if you want to be tagged! as a side note, i also started posting this fic on ao3. there will be more than what’s in these snippets so check it out if you’re interested :)

[oblivious-idiot]

Could you do a Lockwood x reader where he does little stuff for the reader without thinking? Like he buys her something he’d think she’d without a second thought and he doesn’t notice till George or Lucy comments about it. Thank you :) ❤️

Subconscious actions

AN: This was such a cute prompt, thank you! I hope you like it <3

Warnings: fluff, George is done with Lockwood being oblivious, Lockwood is a hopeless romantic <3

Word count: 1.3k

Pairings: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader

Lockwood was one of those people who would do anything for others without even thinking about it. He was selfless to his core, almost to the point he would literally die for you and the rest of his team and wouldn’t think twice about the decision. But he was also selfless in aspects of doing things for others because of the fact he knew it would make them happy, and you were one of those people he loved to see smile.

Although Lockwood tended to be quite hard on himself and didn’t always let people in, he couldn’t help but soften up when you were around, he practically turned to butter when he saw you. The two of you had become pretty close over the last six months since you moved in to 35 Portland Road, but of course you could never say anything to one another about your feelings. George and Lucy knew of course, they weren’t that oblivious.

“I’ll make myself a cup of tea then” George grumbled as Lockwood left the kitchen with two cups of tea in hand - one for him and one for you. “Is he running around making teas again?” Lucy asked, no surprise in her voice at all “I swear that boy is so lovestruck it’s making me feel ill” she continued as she sat at the table, which made the two of them laugh. “Shall we tell him, that we know?” she asked “Lucy, do you think he even knows himself?” George said as he rolled his eyes “Lockwood’s so oblivious I think even the whole of Fittes and Deprac will know before he does”

"George! Come give me a hand with the shopping will you!" Lockwood called as he entered the house, arms ladened with carrier bags. George made his way down the stairs, cleaning his glasses as he went, before looking to Lockwood "please tell me you didn't blow the months budget again, or I'm going to have to stop you from going out by yourself." "Oh George, do you really have such low expectations of me? Besides, y/n gave me a list of all the things we were running out of" Lockwood flashed George one of his charming smiles before he heaved the bags down into the kitchen "That answers my question then" George grumbled as he followed Lockwood through the house.

The two boys slowly put away the groceries in a steady rhythm, being quite used to the job since living together for over a year. Whenever George came across something that they didn't usually buy he left it on the table, sure that Lockwood had a reason as to why he bought it. "So, are you going to tell me why you brought home half the stores chocolate selection, pastries, and some weird fancy tea" George asks, looking puzzled at the box of tea bags in his hand "What kind of tea has coconut in it anyways?" "Y/n said she was feeling homesick, I guess I thought they would make her feel better" Lockwood shrugged in response as if it was nothing to worry about.

This carried on for weeks, Lockwood never really thinking much more than how happy you always looked when he gave you something new, but you thought it was really sweet. You weren't sure if there was a reason why Lockwood was so keen on doing little stuff for you, you were sure that it wasn't because he liked you, so you never said anything incase it made things awkward. Surely he did this kind of thing for George and Lucy too right?

Walking home one morning from a case, dawn was breaking to reveal a soft blanket of mist lying over the park you were walking through. It was still early spring so there was a chill in the air "It's days like this where I wish I brought a coat on cases" you shuddered, your breath forming clouds in front of you "The sun will come over soon I imagine" George said as he checked his watch. Without even giving it a second thought, Lockwood shrugged off his coat and placed it over your shoulders "Lockwood, I-, you didn't have to" you gave him grateful smile, in which he flashed you one in return "I can't have one of my best agents shivering to death. Besides, I'm almost never cold, practically warm blooded" he said as he slid his hand into yours, his warm touch feeling like a furnace on your icy fingers. "You're human, Lockwood, of course you're warm blooded" George said as he rolled his eyes, but Lockwood simply batted away the comment with his spare hand.

When the team got back to the house, Lucy and George pulled Lockwood into the kitchen while you went upstairs to shower. "Jesus wept Lockwood, this is getting insufferable" George cried, in which Lockwood just gave him a confused look in return "I'm not sure I follow George..?" "We're talking about you and y/n, Lockwood. Have you even told her you like her yet?" Lucy said as she boiled the kettle. Lockwood gave an uneasy chuckle and his cheeks flushed red "I- no, I haven't. How did you even know?" "Oh Lockwood, you are one of the most oblivious people I know, for someone who's ego is so big" George said, shaking his head, "Oh come on, now that's not fair" Lockwood gave out a small laugh, but Lucy and George just gave him unimpressed looks in return.

With Lockwood now conscious of his actions, you noticed he was a little more distant. Less impromptu teas or purchases of your favourite snacks, you weren't sure if you had done something but you knew you needed answers. One evening when Lucy and George had gone to bed, you found Lockwood in his usual spot in the library reading his gossip magazines. You had brought in two cups of tea for the pair of you, which he thanked you without making eye contact. You sat in an armchair opposite him "Lockwood, what's the matter? Have I done something to upset you?" you questioned "No, no of course not! The very opposite I assure you y/n." "Then what's going on with you? You seem distant is all..." He took a long sip of tea, his ears turning a little pink "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be. I've just been dealing with some things is all" He finally answered and gave you a soft smile. You placed a hand on his knee and gave him a reassuring smile in return "You know you can tell me anything Lockwood, no judgement on my part." He couldn't meet your eyes - "I've really started to like you y/n... I guess I show that with all the things I do for you" he hesitantly answered. Even with the surprise confession, you couldn't help but laugh, which made Lockwood's eyes shoot up to meet yours "I'm sorry, I just never thought I'd see a flustered and shy Anthony Lockwood with my own eyes, you're always so confident" - you calmed your laughter and softly enclosed your fingers around his "I like you too Lockwood."

One you and Lockwood had gotten over the awkwardness, you finally went back to normal. Lockwood didn't stop doing little things for you, he actually started doing it more. He started subconsciously packing a jumper in your kit bag for cold nights or letting you borrow his coat without asking. Sometimes he'd bring you back books from the store or bunches or flowers he's see growing near the road - he was a hopeless romantic really, but he'd never been happier.

[kaspenhoward]

The Queens Birthdays:

_Catalina, December 16th_

Catalina, peacefully sitting the living room at 7 AM enjoying her coffee:

Anne holding a box at the top of the stairs: Lina! Happy Birth- [Proceeds to tumble down the stairs and land at the bottom face first]

Anne: [Proceeds to stay still, appearing unconscious face down]

Catalina: [Slight concern about to get up to check on Anne]

Anne springing up on her feet suddenly okay again, holding out the box: -day! Happy birthday! This is for you.

Catalina: [Sigh of relief and disappointment] Thank you.

Catalina taking the box: Lord almighty it is going to be a day…

_Anne, November 19th_

Anne peacefully sleeping in her room:

The Queens, bursting open the door all holding presents: HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANNE!!!

Anne disturbed and annoyed from being awaken from her slumber, standing upon her bed and grabbing pillows: THOU SHALL NOT PROCEED WITH ANY EMOTIONAL THOUGHT TOWARDS SUCH A GESTURE, THOUST DOES NOT CARE OF TODAY NOR THE PLACEMENT OF TIME. THE SUN HAS NOT YET RISEN SO NOR HAVE THOU!!!! EXIT MY CHAMBERS!! [Throws a attack of pillows at the queens until they exit the room]

[2 hours later]

Anne rushing downstairs in a panic: Oh my goodness, Queens I am so sorry! I didn’t go to sleep til late last night and I was really tired!

The Queens: [Holding out presents to Anne with a decorated house behind them]

Anne: [Tearing up] You guys-

_Jane, July 17th_

[The queens take Jane out to a restaurant as per her request, Jane ends up drinking too much wine, and gets very drunk]

Jane, suddenly very sad as she’s dragged into their home with her Arm around Anna to stay standing: You guys love me right?

[Very quickly]

Aragon: Yes.

Anna: No one I’d rather carry home while she’s drunk.

Kat: You’re literally my mom. You’re my favorite.

Anne: You feed us and you haven’t poisoned me yet, so yes.

Cathy: We would literally be dysfunctional and hysterical 24/7 without you.

Jane smiling at the sweetness, and getting teary eyed: I love you guys so much! [Starts sobbing]

The rest of the Queens hugging her: We love you too Jane.

_Anna, September (June? July?) 22nd_

Anna: [Walks into the house, holding six puppies in her arms, looking very proud of herself]

The Queens: [Holding a bunch of presents in their hands, all wearing the funny german stereotype hats that Anna loves because she finds them funny]

Anna:

The Queens:

Catalina: Is that six puppies-

Anna, running upstairs quickly with her puppies: I love you guys so much but it’s my birthday so you can’t be mad at me and I can keep them! I’ll be down in a second!

The Queens: . . .

_Kat, [Birthday so freaking unknown it’s a literal guess what year she was born]_

The Queens busting into the living room, as Kat is napping on the couch: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Kat very sleepily, sitting up: Uhhh, I don’t know when my birthday is you guys. Nice try at guessing though.

Jane: We decided to make today your birthday silly! You deserve a birthday as well love.

Kat still waking up: Deserve Birthday? I’ve never had a birthday celebration before.

The Queens: [Really shocked and sad but this revelation]

Jane, suddenly angry but doing her best to hide it from Kat: Well! Screw all of this historical jerks! You deserve a birthday and it’s gonna be the best birthday ever!

The Queens: YEAH!!!!

Kat, more awake and more emotional: Yeah I uhm- Okay. That sounds great. I really love you guys.

The Queens: We love you too Kat! [Proceeds to all give Kat hugs and presents]

_Cathy, August 26th_

Cathy: [Napping in the kitchen, facedown on the counter top, and abandoned half full cup of coffee next to her]

Cathy: [Stirs at a tap on her shoulder, puts her head up blinking the sleep away]

Cathy, now confused: [Notices the blanket around her shoulders, and the pillow her head was under that she did not fall asleep on when she first fell asleep]

Cathy, noticing the mass of presents in front of her on the counter top: ????

The Queens behind her: Happy birthday Cathy!

Cathy turning around in confusion: ???

Kat rushing up to hug her: Look at the clock silly!

Cathy: [See’s the time is 0:01 in the morning (12:01 AM)]

Cathy, smiling and slightly emotional from that fact they remembered: Thanks you guys. [Invites the rest of them for hugs]

[lovepotionsandlust]

Part 10

Classes had rebegun before you knew it. Glad to be back among your friends, your mind often drifting to Fred. You surpassed everyone’s expectations on your O.W.L. examinations. Graduation was right around the corner. Still undecided what you would be doing as a career, you had decided to assist the twins with their shop until you had made up your mind. All the snow on the ground had melted, spring had come and gone, the summer heat pushing its way in. You stood in the astronomy tower, taking in the beautiful landscape, Ginny at your side.

“Are you going to be joining us at the store tonight? Sounds like my brothers are on track to open the store within the next two weeks.” Ginny asked “Yeah I will be there; I think that you and I are on painting duty tonight.”

“They put us in charge of painting?”

“I don’t think they know what they got themselves into with that one.”

Ginny sighed, “I don’t know how I am going to make it next year without you.”

“I am leaving you in good hands, Harry will take good care of you, I’m sure.”

She flashed you a warning look, “you watch yourself.”

“Oh, what? Come on, he and Cho broke up, now is your chance!”

“He doesn’t like me like that.” “Did I sound this clueless when I was denying things with Fred?”

Ginny stood her mouth agape, not sure how to reply, “cat got your tongue Gin?”

***

You were sat on the stairs of Weasley Wizard Wheezes between the second and third floor, Ginny’s back against yours. You each had a small canister of bright colored paint, and a paint brush, coating the rungs of the banister.

“Hey, could you tell me if this looks okay?” Ginny asked from behind you.

“Yeah sure.” You turned to face her, only to be met with a stripe of bright green paint being brushed against your cheek. “Now what was that for?”

“Just thought you needed that.” She shrugged, turning back around.

Dipping your brush back in your canister, you reached over Ginny’s shoulder, coating her nose in a pink splat.

“You know I did always tell you that pink was your color Gin.”

“No, you did not just do that.”

“Oh, but I did.”

Ginny retaliated by adding more paint to your shirt, before you knew it you both were completely covered in bright colors.

“Hey, now what is going on here?” Freds voice causing you both to freeze. You looked up to find his hands on his hips with a look of disapproval written on his face. You and Ginny burst out laughing, seeming to only frustrate him more. “What is so funny you two?”

“You look just like mom right now Fred.” Teased Ginny.

“Sound like her too.” You echoed walked up the stairs to meet Fred, “I’m sorry babe, we just got a little overzealous with our design choices I guess.”

“See Ginny, its not so hard to-” Fred was interrupted by you smearing paint down his cheek. Roaring laughter escaping from yourself and Ginny alike.

“Seems as if my sister has had a bad influence on you, if I do say so myself.”

“I think maybe I am just spending too much time with the owner of a joke shop. Maybe I should cut back on that?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

His arm snaked around your waist pulling you close to him, “not on your life sweetheart.” He smiled down at you giving you a quick kiss on the lips.

“Hey that’s co-owner!” You turned to find George approaching the group.

You placed your hand on your forehead in a salute, “sir yes, sir.”

“You’ve got that right.” George responded.

“The shop really is turning out great you two, I am really proud of you both.”

They both beamed at you, thanking you in unison.

“Hey, does anyone know where these go?” You looked down to the first floor to find Harry and Ron both carrying a case of Skiving Snack boxes.

“Gin knows where they go, she will be right down.” You spoke down to the two of them.

Ginny looked up at you, her cheeks going red, quickly trying to wipe the paint from her face with a damp towel.  You and the twins watched her scurry down the stairs to help Harry place the items on the shelves.

“You really do know how to keep us Weasleys always guessing don’t you?” George asked.

“I am always filled with surprises and mayhem. Seems you boys are rubbing off on me.”

They both chuckled.

“So, I know you don’t really like parties, but seeing we don’t get to join you for graduation this year, Mom is planning you a bit of a graduation party next weekend.” Fred stated. “She knows your parents aren’t going to celebrate you the way you deserve, and if you tell her no, you’ll break her heart.” George added.

You never thought about your graduation as something to celebrate, nor did you expect a party. You were surprised that Molly had even remembered that you were finishing school this semester.

“So… will you come?” they asked together.

“I would be honored.”

***

The burrow was decorated with balloons and streamers draped in every direction you could see. A banner reading your name and congratulations hung in the front windows. You walked into the kitchen to find Molly and Hermione hard at work decorating a cake in your favorite colors.

“Ah! The guest of honor!” called Molly.

She quickly approached you, wrapping you in a tight hug.

“Thank you so much for all of this.”

“You absolutely deserve all of it and more. Don’t give me too much credit though, it was all Fred and Georges idea.” “Well they failed to mention that.”

“When will your parents be arriving dearie?”

“Uh, they actually won’t be joining us.” You said, trying to hide the disappointment on your face. Fred moved alongside you wrapping his arm around you.

“Yeah, they heard some hardened criminal, drop out, twins were going to be here.” Fred stated jokingly.

You poked him in the ribs, “expelled is more like it Freddie.”

“Even more street cred, as the muggles say. Thanks for that.” He responded causing you to giggle.

“Now go enjoy yourself and get out of my kitchen. Take that one with you.” Molly pipped up, motioning towards Fred.

Fred grabbed your hand pulling you towards the back door, “yes ma’am!”

***

Sitting around the campfire, the night had died down quite a bit. You were showered with gifts from everyone, some of your classmates had even made it. Dinner was perfect, how Molly had figured out your favorite meal you could only guess at. Harry and Ginny were looking mighty cozy across the yard from you, Fred sat on your left, George on your right. The night sky was filled with stars, not a cloud to be seen, music was still playing softly from Arthurs garage. One by one everyone started filing their way back into the house.

Fred stood from his seat, extending his hand out to you, “ready for bed?”

“Actually, I think I am going to stay out a bit longer. You go though, you’ve got a big day tomorrow with the store opening. I will be up shortly.”

“Are you sure? I could stay up with you?”

“I don’t plan on going to bed any time soon, I can keep her company.” George spoke up.

“Yeah, okay. But don’t keep her too long, you also have a big day little brother.”

“That’s business partner to you.”

Fred rolled his eyes, placing a kiss atop your head. “Give him hell for me.”

You giggled, “I will see you soon Freddie, goodnight.”

***

Before you knew it, it was only you and George left sitting beside the small fire. Sitting comfortably in silence next to one another.

“You know, your mom kind of gave you away.” You spoke up.

Anxiety filled George’s chest, “What do you mean?”

“She told me the party was your idea, you and Fred anyways.”

“It was really nothing, you deserved to have this celebrated.”

“Don’t dismiss it, this was not nothing Georgie. This is more of a celebration than I have ever had. I owe you a thank you.”

He paused for a moment, “I think I know of a way you could repay me.”

“Oh? This has got to be good, what are you conjuring up over there?”

“Dance with me.”

“Dance with you?”

He stood to his feet extending his hand. “Yeah, dance with me.”

You could still hear the music playing from the garage, a slower song filling the space between you. Grabbing his hand, you stood in front of him, you had never noticed how much taller he was than Fred until now. He rested his hand on your lower back, placing yours on his forearm. You swayed along to the music, trying to ignore how your heart rate had picked up. Laying your head on his chest, his arm wrapped around you tighter, pulling you closer.

Feeling this close to you, George had never felt so at ease. He took note of how your hair smelled how small your hand was in compared to his. “You’re going to have to tell her you know.” “I won’t make her choose.” “Maybe she doesn’t have to.” The conversation with his brother was ringing in his ears. Every part of him was ready to tell you, right here and right now.  He just had to find the courage to tell you. Maybe if he couldn’t tell you, he could show you.

He slowed his movements, his breath hitching, catching your attention. “Hey are you okay?”

Nodding down at you he took a deep breath. “Yeah, I just…” he trailed off. You were so afraid he was going to shut you out again like he had the day before the attack.

“Please don’t-” you spoke before you could think clearly. Your words caused George to freeze.

“Please don’t shut me out again Georgie. I can feel you pulling away and, I can’t have that happen again.”

He laughed, catching you off guard.

“No- I am not going to shut you out.” He brushed a piece of hair behind your ear. “I am just trying to figure out how to do this.”

“How to do what?”

Slowly he leaned down, closing the gap between you. Before his lips met yours, he paused, sensing a slight hesitation from you. You leaned forward, pressing your lips to his gently. Reaching up to rest his hand on the side of your head, he felt you pull away.

“What am I doing? I can’t do this.” You turned to walk back to the house, his hand catching yours.

“No wait, let me explain.” You tried pulling your hand from him, “please just give me a chance.”

“You have two minutes, George. Out with it.”

“I am in love with you.”

“Are you kidding me? Is this some form of joke you conjured up?”

“No, its not like that at all, Fred knows.”

“Oh, because that is supposed to make this better?” Your heart was sinking out of your chest.

“I didn’t mean to fall in love with you, but I did, I think I may have loved you even before my brother loved you. He caught your attention first, I tried so hard to push my feelings down, I can’t do it anymore.” He stammered out.

“So now what? I get to either break your heart or his? Do you understand what kind of position this puts me in?”

“I do, I absolutely do, that’s why when Fred told me that I had to tell you, I didn’t want to. I don’t want to make you choose, neither does he.”

“What in the world is that supposed to mean? I love Fred, he loves me, and you love me. Now what?” Tears were stinging your eyes, threatening to spill over.

“Does, does that mean you don’t love me too?” Fear was written all over his face, part of him wished he never had asked.

You took a deep breath, covering your face with your hands. It felt as if an hour had passed before you looked back up at him. “I don’t know George. I don’t know how any of this works. What if I do… What if I do love you too? That still leaves me in a horrible spot. My options are, either I pick one of you, or what- I date both of you? Wait a minute, how long has Fred known?”

“Since the winter, he confronted me the night of the attack.”

“That was nearly six months ago! You mean to tell me you two have been hiding this from me for that long? What game are you two playing at here?”

“This is not a game to either of us, I assure you of that.” “Your time is up George; I have to go.”

“Please don’t go, don’t do this to him, to us.”

“Oh, so it is all about the two of you again. What about me? Is no one thinking of me?”

“That is all either of us think about-” Your hand met the side of his face harshly.

“Don’t you dare start to say that either of you had me in mind. This was always about the both of you. Did Ginny know?”

He paused, afraid to upset you further. “Of course she did. I can’t trust a single person in this family.” You stormed off, he knew better than to try to follow you. What did he just do?

***

Making his way up the stairs, George was shattered. How was he going to tell Fred what just happened? He knocked on Ginny’s door first.

“What is going on? Why are you-”

“Just follow me, ill explain everything in a minute. We must get Fred. Maybe Mom too at this rate.”

Ginny suddenly understood how serious this all was if their mom may be needed. George burst through the door, finding Fred sat in his bed, most likely expecting to see you walk through the door with his brother, not his sister. “What is going on? Where is she?”

George paced back and forth, trying to find a way find a way to explain what had transpired. “I ruined this, for all of us.”

“What are you talking about George?” Ginny questioned.

“I kissed her.”

“You what?!” Ginny and Fred both asked, Fred moving to his feet.

“And I told her that I loved her, oh and just to top it off, she knows that the both of you knew.”

“Are you joking?”  Fred closed in on his brother, fists clenched. “Where is she?” “I don’t know, she took off. I tried to stop her I really did, but she was so angry.”

“Yup, we need mom on this one.” Ginny disappeared out to the staircase, yelling down for Molly.

“You mean to tell me, that you told her all of that, AND made a move on her?”

“I don’t know what came over me, all I could think about was what we talked about, I mean you’re the one who told me that I had to tell her.”

“Don’t you dare put this on me George, you didn’t want her to choose, but let’s be real here. She already had. She has been with me this entire time. Not you!”

“Well now she is with neither of us, I already blame myself. I have already been yelled at, don’t you yell at me too. I didn’t decide to fall in love with her!”

“Boys, what are you yelling about? What is going on Ginny?” Molly entered the room getting in between the twins.

“Oh. Just wait until you hear this one Mom, you tell her, go on George.” Freds jaw clenched.

“George?” Molly turned to face him.

“To make a long story short, we fell in love with the same girl. Fred and Ginny have known all along, tonight I kissed her. She took off.”

“And he told her that we both knew, don’t let him skip over that part.” Ginny added.

“Now she’s gone, the best thing that has ever happened to me, and she is gone. Because of him!” Fred exclaimed.

Molly turned on her heel to face Fred, pointing at his chest, “If all of this is true, if you knew? You are just as at fault as your brother. Both of you owed her honesty, above all else. Love is about honesty, about sacrifice, neither of you could get out of your own ways to give that girl what she deserved.”

Both boys fell silent as she continued, “That girl loves in a way that is unlike anything I have ever seen, you both would be blessed to feel that from her. Both of you are at fault here, and it is up to the both of you to fix it.”

[imaginedreamwrite]

That awkward moment when idk if you’ve gotten my requests and didn’t like them or if you haven’t gotten them at all 😂 I’ve sent a few and haven’t seen them used. I know tumblr eats them sometimes

I sent the one with picture #2 with BT

I love your page and your writing and if you got it and just wasn’t feeling it that’s okay!

Hi! Despite the updates that tumblr’s put out I’m still having issues with my ask box. I promise I’m not ignoring anyone who sends me an ask, it either hasn’t come through at all or when I try to answer it Tumblr glitches and it doesn’t post/deletes when I go back to it

I’ve contacted support on a number of issues including ones with my ask box and they’ve never gotten back to me. It’s 💯 a Tumblr issue and not at all whether I like the ask/request because I love them!

The soft bear suit was a perfect fit despite your worry it would be too big or too small, and had transformed your sweet little pup into a fuzzy little bear with two round soft ears, matching mitts and boots. You’d bought the suit online after you were scouring the internet for something that would fit the in between seasons of winter and spring. Once you’d found the set online it was an instant buy, and an even more perfect surprise for your boys.

“Bear?” Jake called from the bottom of the stairs, his voice carrying with traces of concern. “Are you okay? Are you ready to go?”

“I’ll be down in a minute! Almost done!” You scooped your baby up from the bed and rest her on your hip, fixing the blue fuzzy hood and then sighing with contentment. “Your daddies are going to love it.”

“Bear! Are you sure you’re okay?” Jake’s insistence was adorable, rooted in the same kind of protective instincts that Ari, Steve & Ransom heralded.

“I’m coming down, relax!” You rolled your eyes and lightly bounced your pup on your hip, stepping out of the room and starting down the stairs.

“We’re ready!” All eyes were on you and your pup in her blue fuzzy bear suit, momentary silence afflicting your boys until you’d reached the last step.

“Baby bear!” Jake chirped first, smiling ear to ear with bright eyes and heady scent. “And Baby-er Bear!”

“Don’t I look good?” You waved your pup’s little mitt and had immediately been showered with praise from the alphas in your life.

Your babe was taken by Ransom first, adored upon by the grumpy alpha turned soft by your first child. He was incessant in kissing her chubby cheeks and scenting her as an alpha daddy should. He praised her with soft affirmations and threats for anyone who crossed her.

“I found it online,” you stole her back from Ransom, giving her even time with Steve and Ari, “I thought it would be so cute! And its perfect for spring.”

“Mama bear and baby bear.” Jake’s grin was ever present, permanently affixed to his face. “That’s the cutest damn thing I’ve ever seen!”

“Wait until you see the Easter bunny suit Steve got her.” You nudged Jake’s hip, forewarning him to the second cutest sight ever.

“An Easter bunny suit?” Jake glanced at Steve, the super soldier alpha swooning over your baby. “He did not.”

“He did too, and…I convinced Ari to get a matching one.”

“Bear!” Jake chirped, slipping an arm around your waist before kissing into your hair. “You are amazing.”

“So are you.” After complimenting him back, you rest your head on his shoulder and sighed. “You chose good, Jake. We have a good life.”

“We have the best life.”

[beaft]

october 16th

today's spooky poem is "the witch of coos" by robert frost, an unrhymed narrative poem in script format. if you want to read up about it, there's some analysis here, and again here.

THE WITCH OF COOS

I staid the night for shelter at a farm Behind the mountains, with a mother and son, Two old-believers. They did all the talking.

The Mother: Folks think a witch who has familiar spirits She could call up to pass a winter evening, But won’t, should be burned at the stake or something. Summoning spirits isn’t ‘Button, button, Who’s got the button,’ I would have them know.

The Son: Mother can make a common table rear And kick with two legs like an army mule.

The Mother: And when I’ve done it, what good have I done? Rather than tip a table for you, let me Tell you what Ralle the Sioux Control once told me. He said the dead had souls, but when I asked him How could that be – I thought the dead were souls, He broke my trance. Don’t that make you suspicious That there’s something the dead are keeping back? Yes, there’s something the dead are keeping back.

The Son: You wouldn’t want to tell him what we have Up attic, mother?

The Mother: Bones—a skeleton.

The Son: But the headboard of mother’s bed is pushed Against the attic door: the door is nailed. It’s harmless. Mother hears it in the night Halting perplexed behind the barrier Of door and headboard. Where it wants to get Is back into the cellar where it came from.

The Mother: We’ll never let them, will we, son? We’ll never!

The Son: It left the cellar forty years ago And carried itself like a pile of dishes Up one flight from the cellar to the kitchen, Another from the kitchen to the bedroom, Another from the bedroom to the attic, Right past both father and mother, and neither stopped it. Father had gone upstairs; mother was downstairs. I was a baby: I don’t know where I was.

The Mother: The only fault my husband found with me— I went to sleep before I went to bed, Especially in winter when the bed Might just as well be ice and the clothes snow. The night the bones came up the cellar-stairs Toffile had gone to bed alone and left me, But left an open door to cool the room off So as to sort of turn me out of it. I was just coming to myself enough To wonder where the cold was coming from, When I heard Toffile upstairs in the bedroom And thought I heard him downstairs in the cellar. The board we had laid down to walk dry-shod on When there was water in the cellar in spring Struck the hard cellar bottom. And then someone Began the stairs, two footsteps for each step, The way a man with one leg and a crutch, Or little child, comes up. It wasn’t Toffile: It wasn’t anyone who could be there. The bulkhead double-doors were double-locked And swollen tight and buried under snow. The cellar windows were banked up with sawdust And swollen tight and buried under snow. It was the bones. I knew them—and good reason. My first impulse was to get to the knob And hold the door. But the bones didn’t try The door; they halted helpless on the landing, Waiting for things to happen in their favor. The faintest restless rustling ran all through them. I never could have done the thing I did If the wish hadn’t been too strong in me To see how they were mounted for this walk. I had a vision of them put together Not like a man, but like a chandelier. So suddenly I flung the door wide on him. A moment he stood balancing with emotion, And all but lost himself. (A tongue of fire Flashed out and licked along his upper teeth. Smoke rolled inside the sockets of his eyes.) Then he came at me with one hand outstretched, The way he did in life once; but this time I struck the hand off brittle on the floor, And fell back from him on the floor myself. The finger-pieces slid in all directions. (Where did I see one of those pieces lately? Hand me my button-box—it must be there.)

I sat up on the floor and shouted, “Toffile, It’s coming up to you.” It had its choice Of the door to the cellar or the hall. It took the hall door for the novelty, And set off briskly for so slow a thing, Still going every which way in the joints, though, So that it looked like lightning or a scribble, From the slap I had just now given its hand. I listened till it almost climbed the stairs From the hall to the only finished bedroom, Before I got up to do anything; Then ran and shouted, “Shut the bedroom door, Toffile, for my sake!” “Company,” he said, “Don’t make me get up; I’m too warm in bed.” So lying forward weakly on the handrail I pushed myself upstairs, and in the light (The kitchen had been dark) I had to own I could see nothing. “Toffile, I don’t see it. It’s with us in the room, though. It’s the bones.” “What bones?” “The cellar bones—out of the grave.”

That made him throw his bare legs out of bed And sit up by me and take hold of me. I wanted to put out the light and see If I could see it, or else mow the room, With our arms at the level of our knees, And bring the chalk-pile down. “I’ll tell you what— It’s looking for another door to try. The uncommonly deep snow has made him think Of his old song, The Wild Colonial Boy, He always used to sing along the tote-road. He’s after an open door to get out-doors. Let’s trap him with an open door up attic.” Toffile agreed to that, and sure enough, Almost the moment he was given an opening, The steps began to climb the attic stairs. I heard them. Toffile didn’t seem to hear them. “Quick!” I slammed to the door and held the knob. “Toffile, get nails.” I made him nail the door shut, And push the headboard of the bed against it.

Then we asked was there anything Up attic that we’d ever want again. The attic was less to us than the cellar. If the bones liked the attic, let them like it, Let them stay in the attic. When they sometimes Come down the stairs at night and stand perplexed Behind the door and headboard of the bed, Brushing their chalky skull with chalky fingers, With sounds like the dry rattling of a shutter, That’s what I sit up in the dark to say— To no one any more since Toffile died. Let them stay in the attic since they went there. I promised Toffile to be cruel to them For helping them be cruel once to him.

The Son: We think they had a grave down in the cellar.

The Mother: We know they had a grave down in the cellar.

The Son: We never could find out whose bones they were.

The Mother: Yes, we could too, son. Tell the truth for once. They were a man’s his father killed for me. I mean a man he killed instead of me. The least I could do was help dig their grave. We were about it one night in the cellar. Son knows the story: but ’twas not for him To tell the truth, suppose the time had come. Son looks surprised to see me end a lie We’d kept up all these years between ourselves So as to have it ready for outsiders. But tonight I don’t care enough to lie— I don’t remember why I ever cared. Toffile, if he were here, I don’t believe Could tell you why he ever cared himself….

She hadn’t found the finger-bone she wanted Among the buttons poured out in her lap.

I verified the name next morning: Toffile. The rural letter-box said Toffile Barre.

—Robert Frost

[futurebird]

2 - Truancy

Part One - Part Two What worried me first was *not* that I might die up there. That after many years some hapless student, sent to fetch extra halos, might look behind the giant paper mache cat and gasp in horror at my desiccated corpse still clothed in the brown plaid skirt and too-large white button down shirt (polo shirts were allowed after spring recess, but that was not for weeks) They would shake their head sadly at my scuffed up black and white saddle shoes and wonder who I was. It would be a tremendous mystery. No, what worried me first was the more immediate future. I would need to yell, or bang, or maybe get the great gong from the music storage and make a racket so that someone would open the door. How could I get out without being seen? I decided to deal with this issue ... when I was ready to leave. It was silly to have gone to all this risk and not at least look around. I walked with carful soft footsteps up the dark attic stairs.

The attic of that school was massive. The school was a C-shaped building with a courtyard: the attic was a single vast room that covered all the rooms below. The rafters were wooden, and there was a little light from the small half-moon windows at the ends and from the window seats spaced along the length. From the outside these windows in the attic were like hooded dark eyes. As if the school were a great, but probably friendly I supposed, spider. (I liked spiders.) And that was when I realized that the attic wasn't just a storage space, it must have been what people kept calling "the old library" This little private school had a proper library, of course, a brand new one. With computers and CD roms, and brightly colored bookshelves. When you were a new student, as I had been last year they took you on a little tour and made a big deal about the new library: a glass addition on the first floor that connected the lower school building to the upper school so we could walk to science class without getting rained on. That they didn't show "the old library" just proved whoever planned those tours didn't know what they were doing. It was so obvious that the attic had once been a library that I wondered why I hadn't noticed it before. Every wall was lined with shelves. Some even still held books. (but mostly old ones in poor repair) many of the shelves were blocked by stacks of boxes, or extra desks and extra chairs and even a whole stack of extra cafeteria tables with their attached circular seats they seemed like a heap of giant millipedes. I could even see where the circulation desk had been, and the Librarian's Office. As I was taking all this in, I could hear the sound of recess ending. The noise-- once pleasantly distant was filling the building. Everything sounded a bit different from the attic. Some sounds were impossible to hear-- but the big doors on the cafeteria we used at recess seemed louder up there than when I was right beside them. They boomed shut. The flurry of noise died down to the quiet of afternoon classes. I waited. Expecting the detectives and police and Mrs. Nevens and probably even my mom to come bursting in looking for me. They would all be angry. Unable to understand or even listen to why I had to come here. (But I had to get away from the recess. From and the awful and too bright noise, from all the sing-song and taunting voices.) I would try to explain, and they wouldn't understand. It would be A Very Serious Matter. And there would be Consequences. I waited to be arrested, or put in detention, or worse. But, nothing happened. Old buildings are funny. They have a funny way of carrying sounds. Three floors up the voices of my peers were mostly a senseless jumble... and now that class had begun it was silent-- yet now and then I could hear a bit of conversation crisp and crystal clear. The soft rustle of pages turned, and sums calculated. Afternoon classes went on without me. I wondered if it were just as easy for them to hear me. No matter. I would simply make no sounds.

Part One - Part Two (to be continued.) I think I could expand this into a bit of fiction. I just wanted to capture the feeling of what it was like to be so sad as a kid you end up locked inside of an abandon library.

[callmebliss-got-swamped]

“Corporations are the soulless brains of rat-filled people.”

Context under cut. Content warning for gore

In my dream last night I was somehow managing to buy a house. Massive, rambling, old, lots of antique furniture in and flourishing plants still there. Was taking a tour with my ex, god knows why, who was excited about things in the place for me but his presence drove me to explore faster than I wanted so as to not be in the same room.

Gorgeous…greenhouse? Conservatory? Lofty glass-ceilings room with potted plants all around and quite a few in pots suspended by chains from the ceiling. Warm and bright, all my plants would love it.

A beautiful study with a fireplace taking up a whole wall, dark wood built-ins with glass-front cabinets. One of those clocks with the perpetually spinning orbs under a glass dome.

In one room there was a bench sized and shaped structure, turned akimbo mostly toward the wall. The seat area was round wooden rails, with actual wooden seat platform on it large enough for one person at one end. My ex declared it to be a shoeshine bench; there were foot supports in front of the seat for such an activity so I had to presume he was right. Couldn’t test whether the seat could still slide along the rails, though, because there were four 80s-90s era mini electric keyboards on the rails. Collecting dust in a house where everything else was clean.

I moved on without finding the kitchen, climbing the stairs. The upper floors were a little more dim, and had a stranger layout, with half-flights of stairs. Went up one to find a room with the doorway filled with two panes of glass on hinges; the one on the stairs side I had to press and release to have it spring out and swing toward me. The one on the other side did the same in the other direction. It led to a playroom with toys mostly put away but others still scattered on the far side of the room. The glass door was, apparently, so a parent could glance up the stairs and see the kids still safe and playing in there.

I left through a door to one side; coming up the half stairs, the ceiling had slanted sideways over me, indicating another set of stairs above running perpendicular.

This was when I ran into the small man. Somehow it did not bother me he was there. He reminded me of The Old Man Of Hoy from Sense8, but much more compact, only three feet tall at most.

At one point I discovered an oak and wrought iron built in foldout stair made to let me climb to open some sort of door. I pulled it out using the round safe-door type handle, climbed up, but the door was locked.

“Don’t have the key.” The old man said. “There’s another way to the fifth floor.” He sounded unsure of himself but I followed his swift pace around to the bottom of a staircase that climbed through a space that got smaller as we went up, to a door that was 1/3 height and also locked. But I had a piece of flat metal and a Bobby pin I could bend, and a rudimentary experience of basic lock picking, and I got it open.

The old man and I were hip to hip as we shoved our top halves through the doorway. The other side was dark, so I pulled out my phone and set it to flashlight. To the right, the ceiling slanted down in two sections; eaves, flat wood surfaces painted a violet-tinged grey with white accents. On one end the floor opened up to a sharply dropping ramp that disappeared into shadow. At the time it struck me as a bad slide for a person to go down, but now I think it was a slide to move boxes from eaves storage to rooms below without having to carry them downstairs/through rooms. Like a dumbwaiter with the simplest of physical mechanics.

We turned our heads and my light to the left, and the ceilings rose to full height, picking out open doorways to very still rooms, objects and doorknobs thick with dust and some furniture draped with cloths. The old man crowed with delight. “You found it - The Cousins’ House! The house within a house!” We scrambled through and to our feet, and somehow I know this section was just that - a whole ‘nother house, attached and separated, from days long past when folks might come visiting for months at a time.

We explored here slowly, for this house was dark as midnight and even more maze like than the main house. I rounded a square pillar with piles of abandoned items around its base all dusted and cobwebby, and there was a hint of movement at the edge of the light. I moved closer - it was a doll, perhaps the size of a standing American Girl Doll, no taller than my knees as it stood there. It’s head moved, turning away, and a little-girl voice said something I do not now recall. My friends standing behind me (I do not know who, but they were there) were terrified, so I said, “oh look, a baaaaayby! Get the baby!” in a playful singsong voice. I stopped toward it to scoop up the doll, to show my friend it was perhaps a really good windup doll.

That is when the doll ran. That little girl voice was repeating,” don’t catch the baby!” While I chased it through the maze of rooms and halls, barely keeping it in my shaker flashlight, calling out, “catch the baaaayby!” My friends were yelling to stop, no, don’t try to catch it. Wet came back round to where they stood and I snatched the doll up, swaddling it in the blanket that was wrapped around it and cradling it in my arms to show my friends. It’s face was turned away.

“Who’s a baby?” I asked jovially, stroking the fringe of its bangs. My friends were relaxing now. The doll’s head swiveled to face me—

ABRUPTLY I was no longer in that place, that situation, those people. I was staring from very close up into the face of 90s era pixie-cut Winona Ryder. Her pale skin was glistening with moisture, her teeth perfectly white as she hissed, “Corporations are the soulless brains of ratless people.” She took a deep breath, ragged, as if talking was an effort, and said it again. “Corporations are the soulless brains of rat-filled people. Corporations are the soulless brains of ratless people. Corporations are the soulless brains of rat-filled people. ” Over and over again she repeated it and slowly my view drew back like a camera pulling away she was still gasping and hissing it as I saw that she had no arms, rough-edges of flesh around wet pits where they had been pulled off. She wore nothing, she was in a bath, deep cuts down her body that was dappled with moisture - from sweat, from steam. There were long streaky tunnels of blood down her skin. Finally she could speak no longer, her head lolling in a deathless silent scream, the inside of her mouth blackened. Her legs were torn away the same way as her arms. The bath water was milky. When I was far enough away I could see a thick ruddy cephalopodean tentacle rising from the bath, lashing toward me.

I awoke. Full of What The Fuck?

[silversupremacy]

in the veins of a prev ask, what are all ur ii critter designs based on??

Oh god, all of them?? Well

Apple isn't specifically any animal but I intended to give her hoof-like feet because farm girl vibes. Her tail blossom is only something that shows up in adulthood/past her species' puberty. It releases scents that will be appealing to someone she wants to connect with (inspired by cats. As they communicate a lot by scents, owners will often notice that their cat smells good but only to them! This is cause we suspect that cats release scents as a sort of 'be my friend!' vibe)

Balloon is based on on a rat! I think he has rat vibes (affectionate, this is a pro rat account I love those smart little guys) He his little gremlin paws that he can puff up his body and it'll make his claws pop out! He also has higher static electricity when stressed/angered and can give shocks!

Baseball has hooves cause of the s2 ep where he's mining w/ a pickaxe taped to his foot. So it would make sense that he doesn't have little hand-feet like Nickel does. His tail is also mechanically inspired by the kangaroo! He will use it as an additional limb, and lean back on it to deliver powerful kicks w/ his legs!

Blueberry isn't inspired by any animal, just a little cute plant guy! His leave change color w/ the season turning more dry and brown in the winter. But he sheds the leaves off and new ones grow in the spring!

Bow and Bot aren't based on anything, but they have a little nub tail that you don't see often! If I had to species assign them I'd say bear vibes?? Also note that my first viewing of Bow was s3 pre-reveal w/ bot.

While Bow has two up ears w/ a heart shaped tuft, Bot noticeably has one flopped ear on her Left due to the repairs Test Tube made and Bot thinking flop ears fit her more. Bot also has the extending limbs, which are noticeably metal when she extends them (since she doesn't mind people knowing she's technically a robot, since robots in this verse are equally as sentient as creatures)

Box

Cabby was initially meant to have an owl-like tail w/ plenty of sheets of paper... but it jsut looked weird to give her a tail?? I might go back to it eventually but for now it's kinda set aside. Otherwise, her fur/ears are made of paper coming out of her drawers. If you opened up her head drawer (unless told otherwise by canon) it's closed off cause she has organs in there. Her arms are buff cause she needs to carry herself occasionally, such as up a short flight of stairs. But the cabanas in iii are all wheel friendly, and her room/bathroom has additional space since she's a bit more bulky compared to the rest of the contestants for moving around.

Candle's tail is the only really insp from an animal; it's meant to be red panda inspired! I also had this concept at a time that Candle's body is actually more like a "wax shell" and internally she's fire based. So if she were to fall into that volcano she would like, melt her skin ig?? but she'd be fine cause she's fire based so she could jsut come out and go eat some wax to regain her proper self. So she's like, half magic based half bio based. She would only be functioning at like half efficiency in her pure fire form since she's missing some organs/structure that the wax makes up.

Clover's tail is a clover flower! They were one of my childhood flowers that I would see constantly and I would pick to give to my mom :3c Otherwise, her paw pads are meant to be horseshoe-like cause luck- tho I alternate between that shape and star shapes. I also only sometimes give her the star-freckles cause XwX I jsut forget a lot of the time to put them on. Otherwise no species in particular! She's jsut meant to be cute. Fan is insp by birbs, obviously. But to be honest, I'd say he's more Yi Qi or Microraptor dinosaur inspired in mannerisms? I change his design every time I draw him cause I can never decide if he should have yellow or red paws XwX He can glide w/ his wings! Just can't directly fly all that well. Sometimes I forget to give him his tassel tail XwX I also like to occasionally give him little features that are bird of paradise inspired! Cause he has those fail boy vibes.

The Floor is not animal inspired. In fact he wears a pair of cat ears to feel included w/ the other creatures. He is able to teleport a small circumference of items with him, because technically if you dug him up without issues you'd find he has a small packet of organs underground (they are his organs he did not steal them). He's mostly a magic-based species, but still has a few biological features. If I were to assign him an animal- I'd weirdly assign him human mannerism cause he's such an oddball in species of the group. He is able to also pull together stuff from the surrounding area to him, such as shells or pinecones, to give himself certain appearances.

Goo! Goo is actually normally 100% looks like canon However he wants to feel included w/ all the other creatures so he makes himself a pair of kibby ears and a tail! He is like 99% inspired by a tabby slime from slime rancher XD I jsut like those little guys.

Knife is!! weirdly!! a kittydog 100% because I like the silver spoon knife siblings headcanon sdakjgfkjsdhkfh so he's a kitty dog more dog leaning. He still has the retractable claws tho!

Lifering as I said, seal based in his biology. Ears he uses for flag signally, and his tail can send flashes of light. He's basically perfectly build for the ocean rescue life.

Lightbulb!! She's a kibby ENTIRELY cause I think it's cuuute. I have nothing else to say here sgkjhdfkjg She's 100% designed for the cuteness more than what fits her abilities and personality. Marshmallow isn't really insp by any animal- but her tail is a twisty marshmallow rainbow treat (its a thing trust me ;w; ) and her horns are burnt marshmallow. Technically, Marsh is a nymph of her species! While she is 100% an adult in her current form, in certain circumstances she can achieve a status that I'd equate to a queen bee. The burnt on her horns grows more over her body, she becomes more dragon-like in her structure, and she grows wings! In her full 'queen bee' form her body is fully covered in burnt marshmallow scales, and her core/center is magma based!

Mepad isn't insp by any animal, I just think the long clawed paws are cool! I also like to think he can telekinesis stuff, so he doesn't need exceptional dexterity.

Mephone originally was gonna be a kitsune... but then I was like He has tanuki vibes also. His cord tail is normally at just one, but he can easily bring out more cord tails up to 9! He has the ability to change matter into different things (like shapeshifting but more permanent) as well as simple illusion magic. He's basically just a really powerful kitsune/tanuki. He also has a robot limb version and a furry limb version, depending on how he's feeling abt himself that day. Sometimes he feels bad abt not being a biological creature.

Nickel isn't insp by any animal, except maybe rodents w/ his terrible little nimble finger-feet. I gave him a spade tail cause I like to bully him <3

OJ is rabbit insp! He has the orange sliced ears cause of the rabbit insp. He normally doesn't have claws like my canon vers. OJ; but when I do draw him with claws it's cause I'm drawing my alter OJ who does have claws :) The straw tail is 100% jsut cause it's cute.

Paintbrush is- somewhat lion-based w/ the tread tail (that casey my friend came up with thank you casey) but mannerisms side I'd equate them more to a leopard or cheetah. I occasionally draw them with spots! They will jump down from up high to attack their enemies and are technically a quadruped. But since most species in ii-verse are biped, it's not too hard for them to learn to walk on twos. They can switch between the two depending on how fast they need to run or what's convenient.

Paper isn't insp by anything. He has flat-ish limbs! And yes his organs are in there they're jsut like One Cell thick dghsjfhdkg

Pickle is both sea cucumber based and sea bunny based! You know, those little white sea slugs that look like a bunny? Yeah! His "plant" tail is actually fully flesh-y it's just like a sea dragon-style mimicry.

Salt isn't based on an animal, but she's meant to be ocean based! Her simple design has her w/ fins kinda as sleeves? on her arms. Cause sea salt. And she has a spade tail just cause it's fun. I think she's semi-land dwelling but would need to keep up the humidity to a decent degree so it doesn't dry her skin out.

Silver is a kittydog 100% cause I was into bfdi first and I had made lollipop a kittydog dfhjkfsgkfd,, His ears and tail are not normally shaped like that- he just keeps them in a rigid shape because stress of keeping up appearances. Normally his ears droop downwards a lot more, and his tail is uncoiled. Otherwise, he has a hyper limber spine similar to cats, so he can just like, turn around and twist himself in weird ways. He's also a quadruped! But he thinks running on all fours is degrading and would only maybe do it in severe emergency or panic.

Suitcase is kinda duck mixed with otter based! She has little webbed paws that she can use to swim, and is very buoyant in the water unless she wants to sink.

Taco! She's semi cat-inspired... but her arms are weirdly gibbon inspired?? Just like longer than average limbs time.

Tea Kettle is- god, such a weird combo. She's lion, velociraptor, and I've had someone say jeaboa which she totally looks it so yeah that too. And yeah I guess elephant but it's only cause of the snout. I don't know why I gave her big old dew claws but I wanted her to look both inviting but also you know she can tear you apart.

Test Tube isn't based on anything! But the only real part of her tail is the star at the end. Otherwise the green goop is just something she can control and she can extend and retract her tail as she wants as long as she still has green goop in her. Her goop is called Science Goop cause it will become random things at random times in part due to her emotions.

Tissues isn't insp by anything except- maybe dog w/ the ears. The feet were only made like that so that his cube body would be supported properly!

Toilet is axolotl and cat based XD this was a semi-request from the person I met at last object show meetup in July. They were super fun to meet and I'm honestly so surprised I got put next to someone in line who had seen my work XD Anyways Toilet's tail is also a coil so he can bounce around on it if he needs to.

Trophy- I think I made 100% on vibes alone. No species in there only whatever I thought looked cool.

And finally Yinyang is technically a kittydog. Yang is a cat, Yin is a dog. They have a split tail because I think it's cool. Yin has One flop ear when he's unfused.

[familylightfox]

"Are there any rooms still available?" A question Volt expected around the Samhain festival, just not from the person it came from. Looking up from his ledger, his eyes met with that of none other than Doctor Eggman.

Although the hybrid was a bit more surprised at the small hand he was holding while standing in the lobby. Under his other arm was a box, wrapped in festive paper. Now it made more sense.

"I do, actually." His smile returned as his attention shifted to the white-haired girl looking up at him. "They're out back by the firepit getting ready for trick or treat."

That seemed to be all she needed to hear, so she released Eggman's hand to run back outside to meet the teenagers. Volt knew she had made it when their excited chatter carried through the open window. Now, his gaze went back to the man standing before him, reaching over and grabbing a skeleton key from the nearby rack.

"Up the stairs and straight ahead. Clear view o' the garden and the kids until they head out for candy collectin'. Will ya be joinin' us for the rest o' the festival?"

"For a bit. I think I might spend some time in the hot springs while we're here. They do wonders for my back." The key was taken and slipped into a pocket. "You do still make breakfast for guests if they ask, don't you?"

"I do."

"Excellent. Orbot tries his best, but nobody quite makes a good Eggs Benedict like you. One day, I'll have to steal your recipe."

"Careful. I'll tell Greta you're after her recipe book." His smile grew into laughter at the quick shift in expression. The box was placed on the counter as Eggman took his leave to unpack. Volt shook his head and went back to filling out the ledger.

[streamglimpse]

a selection of passages from Terciel & Elinor

"Dr. Bannow will see you soon. Do you need the bedpan?"

"No . . . yes," said Elinor, suddenly aware she did. "But I can go . . . I can go to --"

"No, you must stay in bed," said Parkness. She drew the covers back and flourished a bedpan like she'd performed an amazing conjuring trick, though she'd simply picked it off the stand at the end of the bed.

Several minutes later, a thoroughly humiliated Elinor swore to herself that she would recover in record time, though Parkness had treated the whole process no differently than Mrs. Watkins would sewing on a loose button while Elinor stood still.

"And here's the doctor," declared Parkness, holding the bedpan up like some sort of sacrificial offering as she sailed majestically away, passing the doctor near the door with a breezy, "Good after noon, Doctor. The patient is awake and has passed water."

"We need hot water and clothes, please," continued dMirelle to the majordomo sending. "Particularly Elinor; she'll need everything. I expect Tizanael will let us know when she wants to see us?" ...

"They'll give me new clothes?" askeed Elinor. Mirelle had made her leave almost everything behind, because it was machine-made and would fall apart in the Old Kingdom, or so she said. ...

Elinor had trouble believing what Mirelle had told her, but it was already borne out by what she was wearing. The sleeves of her coat had come almost completely undone at the shoulder, and she was uncomfortably aware that her underwear was fraying. ...

A sending in a less fancy long blue-and-silver tunic was tugging at Elinor's sleeve to lead her away. Unfortunately this resulted in the entire sleeve coming off. But the Sending was not dismayed. It rolled up the material and disappeared it into its tunic before taking Elinor's hand. ...

"Some of them can speak?" asked Elinor, following at a somewhat slower pace. She could feel her skirt falling down and had to hold onto the waistband.

"Apparently," replied MIrelle, disappearing around the top of the stairs. "Never met one myself."

"Oh," cried Elinor, but this wasn't in answer. It was because her stockings had failed entirely and collapsed around her ankles, and the heel had started to come off her right boot and had twisted around and was hanging there. As she bent down to pull it off, her skirt fell down as well.

"Curse it!" swore Elinor. She yanked her skirt back up and almost fell over backward, only to be caught by a trio of sendings who had silently come up behind. Led by the first one, they gently picked her up and carried her onward. Elinor struggled for a second dor two, then relaxed, and started to laugh. This was not how she had imagined her arrival in the Old Kingdom.

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

Snow melting off the roof was dribbling down the windows, lines eof water streaking the Charter-spelled glass, merging at the sill to form larger pools. One drop in particular attracted her gaze, because it seemed to be full of light, a softer light than from the lanterns that shone with Charter Magic, not oil, inside the room, or the weak sunshine of the early spring that was making its faltering way down through the higher cloud.

She stared at it, and the room fell away about her, or to be more accurate, reassembled itself in some slightly different guise. She felt her view shift as well, so she was somehow looking down from the ceiling and it was Terciele's room, the same room, but there was a different bedspread and a bottle of win on the side table, not water, and no bowl of apples, and . . . Terciel was naked, mostly out of the covers, and with him was a woman and they were together in the way she had only seen in the book that Kierce had confiscated.

The woman, Elinor was shocked to see, was herself. Older, she thought. There was something about her confidence in what they were doing. ...

"Elinor!"

Elinor sat up like a jack-in-the-box and leapt off the bed, tearing her elbow out of Terciel's tentative grasp.

"Sorry!" she exclaimed.

"Did you See something?" asked Terciei. ...

"No, I don't think so," replied Elinor, blushing. "Maybe. I've been reading too much, and imagination, you know, and we flew a long time so I'm a bit tired - " ...

Terciel was still sitting forward, his arms outstretched, as if he might reach out and draw Elinor back to the bed. She took a step toward the window and turned to look out, hoping this would hide the embarrassment she was sure was evident in her expression. Or maybe it was expectation. Part of her very much wanted Terciel to draw her into his arms, onto the bed, a feeling that both alarmed and excited her, so she didn't know what to do. All she knew was she couldn't look at him right now.

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

Mirelle whistled again and turned the paperwing into a slow, rising loop. Elinor wondered why until she saw Tizanael fly their paperwing ahead, and begin to ascend still higher, leading the way toward one of the peaks, still several leagues away.

At this point, Elinor started to think she needed to go to the toilet, distracting her from the ache in her legs and the small of her back. The paperwing suddenly did not seem to be flying as fast as it had before. The feeling intensified as they rose higher and Elinor wanted to cross her legs, but that was too difficult in the cramped cockpit. She also wished she hadn't drunk Terciel's cup of tea as well as her own.

The paperwing suddenly bucked and dropped twenty or thirty feet, sending Elinor's stomach into her throat. She forgot about needing to go to the toilet as the craft rocked again and rose as suddenly as it had fallen.

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

Tizanael and Terciel were already out of their paperwing, standing and stretching in knee-deep snow. Terciel waved, but Tizanael turned away and clambered through the snow toward the nearest pile of upthrust rocks, disappearing behind it. ...

"Speak softly. Sound travels a long way here. Get your pack and bow," Mirelle said quietly.

"Uh, I need to go --"

"Get your things first," said Mirelle sternly.

Elinor stretched quickly, grabbed her pack, attached the quiver to the side, and swung it to her back before grabbing her bow. Mirelle reached over and undid the lid of the quiver, flipping it back.

"Only fasten that if there's rain, or moisture in the air," she said. "Go where Tizanael went, throw snow over whatever you have to do." ...

[stabby-sheepy-writes]

Poor Financial Decisions

Genre: Horror, 1.5k words

TW: General Horror Themes

AN: A very early piece I wrote my first semester of college, and then promptly buried to never see the light of day. Figured it deserved better, if better is being buried in my obscure tumblr blog

Summary: I woke up this morning to a man chained up in my basement. My first thought was that it was probably not the greatest financial decision I could have made.

When I woke up this morning, I discovered that there was a man chained up in my basement. My first thought was that this was probably not the greatest financial decision I could have made.

The man had been naked when I saw him, wrists rusty with dried blood and thin from my brief glimpses of them. The cuffs around them were just as rusted, flaking off in little specks of red and brown. The smell was awful, even from my distant position at the top of the stairs. It was of rot and death, and of other smells that I really didn’t want to consider but knew would be a bitch to get out of that old, cracked hardwood. After my brief gander and even briefer whiff, I promptly turned back up the stairs and locked the basement door behind me. 

The house is in the middle of the woods—a cliche, but I wasn’t the one who chose the location, so I make do. It has heating, plumbing, a decent back-garden; nothing much to really complain about, and I even find the lack of neighbors comforting. There’s an old road that’s been connected to the highway, and I get the rare poor soul who makes the wrong turn down it. My front yard is full of their cars, some older and some new. There’s a blue truck parked haphazardly at the very front, newer than the rest but still overgrown. Like it had been there for months. Perhaps it had been. Perhaps it was my own understanding of time that had been overgrown by the vines and thorns around me. Perhaps it was nothing at all. 

The trees around the house towered and held little trinkets on almost every branch. Wind chimes, dream catchers, little bird skulls, and bird feeders. All little presents made and gifted to hang on the branches, and they whisper and chatter and sing when the wind blows through them. The forest breathes, and I breathe with it. 

Inside the new blue truck were pictures, a weathered and sun-damaged map of roads and towns and highways, and old water bottles and food wrappers. There was a shotgun in the back seat, and boxes upon boxes of rounds. There was blood on the wheels, splattered against the pretty sky-blue of the paneling, and as I took the gun and carried the boxes I wondered the things that pretty blue truck had seen.  

It was pretty relaxing, being out here in the woods away from the world’s troubles. No need to worry about seeing anybody, or anything but what can be expected. And when a new car shows up in my front yard, or spring turns to winter between my waking hours, or new sections of the garden I don’t quite recall planting spring up fresh and green and healthy, I take it as a sign that time is passing unbothered as well. 

The trees move and walk when I don’t look at them, and sometimes I see the eyes of others watching from the woods. I don’t worry about them any longer, for they’ve learned to not cross the border and I’ve learned to toss the errant snack their way. I know the pains of hunger, and they know the pain of loneliness, and so we both seek to ease them for each other. It also helps me keep the basement clean, and I am never one to turn down opportunity. 

I went down to the basement to check on the man once more and saw that he had stopped moving. Judging by the pictures in the pretty blue truck, he had once been a big man, towering and strong. Looking at him now, one could almost tell despite the thinness in his wrists and the way his ribs strained against his skin. His face was gaunt, the cheeks pocked and thin and the mouth outstretched as if he was still screaming in the dark and quiet of my basement in the woods. The smell of rot was just as bad as before, and the stench burned my nose. 

I turned around and went back up the stairs, locking the door behind me as I went.

 Sometimes I like to sit outside in the grass of my yard and watch them stand there. They tend to sway and moan, bumping into one another and toppling over like dominoes before standing up to sway and moan once more. Some come and some go, guided by large shadowy hands from the trees like children playing with old, wrangled dolls. The eyes beckon me towards the border, and yet I stay as I am and continue to watch on—content in my little display box, in my garden and yard full of abandoned, bloody cars, and in my house in the woods.

The days go on and on, sometimes as years and sometimes in moments—but it is ever so hard to tell without a calendar or any sort of means to tell the time. The seasons pass and I am here, and sometimes I wonder if I am the last one alive in the world. And then a new car pulls down my driveway, and I am overjoyed once more, before I remember that I will have to clean the basement once again. My yard is full up on cars, and yet sometimes when I look out some have disappeared. Taken away like old toys. 

They moan and groan at the border again, and when I look to where they are standing I see new trinkets hanging on the branches. Little wooden carvings, with blackened hands grasping and playing with the toys. I chuckle as I watch them play, not moving from my spot in the sun.  

When storms rage on the howling seems louder than any wind that could have made it. I watch out the window with my cup of hot tea surrounded by many, many more cups of cold and meet eyes with the trees in the woods. They are tall and spindly, long limbs and fingers blending in with the branches and their hands guiding those at their feet. There is one that has been here the longest, and it’s that one that I often share gazes with the most. I know that I will not leave, and it knows that I can’t. And we are both happy that way. 

When the rain dies down, so does my vision of it, and I leave my still-full cup to join the rest of the cool ones. 

The garden was my saving grace more often than not. Tomatoes, potatoes, beets, and peppers. Cucumbers and squash and the odd resurfaced bone or two. I learned early on that additives in the soil increased yield and given that there was no other source of food beyond my garden and the odd animal that fell into the little rope trappings around my garden, it was a discovery that had saved me through many winters. 

The squash was ripe, and so were the zucchini and the cucumbers. Each vegetable was thicker around than my arm, and longer than it too—they would feed me for a while. I picked until my bag was full, and when I went back into the house to fetch a second bag I heard the sound of a wail come from outside. 

There was a bird, dangling from my rope trap. It had matted blonde hair, and tiny, tiny wings so malnourished and boney I wondered how they hadn’t snapped. The rope was wrapped around their legs and their neck, their little wings prying and pulling to try and pull the rope off and yet only pulling it tighter. It sang a broken song as it pried and pried, turning redder and redder as it struggled and I watched on. I watched on as the little bird pleaded and sobbed and its eyes started to bulge out of its head. 

I watched on until the bird stopped moving. They watched on as well, silently swaying behind the border. They watched as I unwrapped the bird from the rope and grabbed it by the hair and dragged it to the border. When I rolled the bird across, they descended upon it and it was gone, and I went back to my garden. 

When I looked at the border later, a new bird skull hung on the branches, its blonde hair still attached. 

Today I stand at the top of the stairs, and look down on the man chained up in my basement. He groans and strains, lifeless eyes boring into mine. Perhaps he remembered the months he spent down here in the dark. The screaming, the hunger, the pictures in that pretty blue truck overgrown with rust outside. Perhaps he remembers nothing at all. It's not like I remember much these days either. 

I grab the shotgun from the top of the stairs, and shut the basement door behind me. We all have to pay our dues, after all.