#and cakerybakery stories

[cakerybakery]

The sea of stars lapped at her feet on the shore. The cosmos swirling as she stepped upon the surface of the universe from the beach. Her dress leaving a wake that would change the worlds below her forever.

Into the dark she ran. Far from the shore her feet carried her. She gathered her skirts as she ran. In he silence of forever she enjoyed the sound of her feet reverberating through the universe.

Her voice joined the noise of trillions of stars burning and untold planets teeming with life.

She was so far from the island of the gods that their glorious blazing light was a mere speck.

Dropping her skirts she threw out her arms and fell backwards into the universe.

Through the bitter cold of space she fell and fell and fell, smiling every second as the broken chain around her ankle froze and fell away.

She twirled through galaxies of gas and dust. Her touch sending comets shooting off. Her dress forever stained with everything she’s seen. She’s finally free.

[writedreamlie]

I was tagged in Find The Words by @yojfull Thank you, dear!!

My words are: tie, past, receipt, killer, registration

Unfortunately I don't write half as much as I damn well should, so let's see if we can find anything even vaguely like these in what I've got 🙃

Tie: She felt the demon tie something around her upper arm. (Unnamed Demons project) (the secret is, neither the story nor the characters have names yet! isn't that fun!)

Past: I hadn’t gotten to trimming back the bushes growing out from the woods yet, and bless past me for being so lazy since they would definitely slow him down more than they would us. (Knotty Magic) (it's a yarn pun, ha)

Killer: (will killed do?) She didn't know what had brought [the only named character, the bastard] to her in or made it stick around longer than it should have, but she was certainly glad its presence hadn't killed her outright. Yet, at least. (Unnamed Demons project)

Couldn't find anything for register or receipt, so here's some others from the randomizer to make up for it:

Move: Some people even crave it after death, which makes tea-time rituals interesting. Those are the strongest poltergeists, the ones who would move heaven and earth to be able to pick up the cup of coffee on the table. (Show Yourself) (i actually have to finish this one, I signed a contract and everything)

Taxi: That was miles away! She’d have to have been walking for hours. “Why didn’t you get a taxi or something?” (Unnamed Demon project)

Now who can I pay to bully me into finishing these? @lou-wilham? @lucymason217? @cakerybakery?

Or, like, if y'all just want to share some WIP words with the world, try to find: roar, fantasy, speed, biscuit, lid

If you want to pick some of your own, here's a handy-dandy word generator: https://randomwordgenerator.com/

[kittenfangirl20]

@cakerybakery they never really specified how Exorcists were made in the Hazbin Hotel Universe. In my fic Redemption Through Hell I made it so all the Exorcists were created in Heaven except for Lute who was once human. In my story it was revealed that Lute was Joan of Arc when she was alive and she was handpicked by Adam to help him lead the Exorcists because she had experience leading an army and to do that they made ascend to the rank of angel like they did with Adam.

People acting as if Guitarspear is a canon ship even though nothing points to the relationship between Adam and Lute being romantic is proof that a male character and female character can’t just be friends without half of the fandom assuming that they are actually romantically involved with each other. This happened before with MCU Clint and Natasha even after it was revealed that Clint was married and had children. Believe it or not, a man and a woman can just be friends without any romance involved which is how I prefer to see the relationship between Adam and Lute.

[cakerybakery]

“Beware the mocking birds.” The guide spoke in low tones so not to disturb the nesting birds.

“Are they dangerous?” I try to whisper back but the birds start to stretch and flap at the intrusion.

“Lame!” The first bird calls out and the guides face grimaces.

“No.”

More bird call out insults at us and flap in a threatening manner.

The guide sighs, “they’re just assholes.”

[cakerybakery]

“Good evening folks and welcome our broadcast, ‘Tales from Another Timeline’. If you’re a first time listener I’m your host, Bob and using the universal tuner we get to listen in to our alternate selfs.

Our first request tonight is from John Singer in Waterton Falls. And John here wants to know about what would have happened if he had taken a camping trip with his high school buddies after graduation. Let’s tune in folks.”

Static crackles while the voices become clearer as the machine is tuned in.

“Well you should consider your self lucky Mr. Singer. Next time don’t try to titty fuck a bear.”

“Oh boy. Wow. Bet that’s a load off your mind John. Not going was definitely the right call.”

Bob half heartedly chuckles.

“Next up in Lola Miller in Dildo.

Is that a real place?

In Canada?

Huh.

Well she’s looking to see what would have happened if she married her ex. Let’s listen in huh?”

The static crackles but nothing comes across the air.

“Hmm, just a moment folks let me-“ bob grunts with effort and the static grows louder before fading back out. “Oh.”

“Let’s see what Amy Matters in Hillerton life would be like if she got a perm.”

“It looks horrible!” A voice wailed between sobs.

[cakerybakery]

My fingers itch for something to do. Smoking is too difficult to do these days and my heart isn’t interested in crafting something. I tend the fire some more instead.

Watching the flames, listening to the crackle as the gases inside the wood burn, warm. I’m glad that I’m on fire tending and not one of the youngsters staring out into the dark, guarding the camp.

I was like them once.

Watchful for danger, listening for intruders, cold. I’m glad at times my eyes are not as good as they once were, that my hearing is going, that my bones ache and stiffen in the cold.

At times like these. When I have done my duty faithfully and now I am rewarded with the easier jobs. Tending the fire throughout the night so it will keep each soldier warm in turn, so the coals will be set for the cook in the morning and he won’t have to waste time to build a fire to make our porridge and biscuits.

The next soldier joins me for his turn on break.

He’s as quiet as the last. We’re too close to the enemy’s border to want to draw more attention than we likely have. This isn’t a stealth mission, there would be no fire to tend if it were. We simply have business near the border. If we stay on our side they’ll stay on theirs.

Curiosity causes wars. 

We stay quiet. They stay quiet. We can pretend the other isn’t there.

I check my watch and ladle the boiling water into a hot water bottle for the soldier to help keep him warm while facing the darkness. He trades me for his now cooled one and goes to relieve the next soldier from duty.

The night drags on the same. Tending fire, boiling water, warming soldiers.

Dawn begins to break and I help the cook put on the pot and watch the biscuits to keep them from burning.

Beyond a copse the enemy readies their camp as well.

My eyes meet the general’s and he nods ever slightly, I return the gesture. We both want the same thing. To survive another day, another night, to die at home with our loved ones and not in a useless skirmish over a few trees and an invisible line.

The day shift eats their fill then relieves the night guards, who eat more than their full to make up for the lack of a real meal during the night. After the last night guard has climbed into the wagon for a well deserved sleep I relieve myself of duty.

My unit is well trained. They can break camp without me and continue down the line as I sleep. By the day’s end we will reach our destination and perhaps we will starve war of the dead once more if we succeed.

War is inevitable when men, whom will never have their own blood spilled on a killing field made of mud and trampled wheat, wish to fill their purses with the wealth of other nations.

Tonight I will personally cut the purse strings before war can be made.

Tonight the king dies.

[cakerybakery]

The cats were friendly enough, as far as cats go. They cleaved apart and together again around me as I walked. A shark in a school of fish. Other that the occasional glance from the odd kitten they ignored me. As though they were not escorting me to their queen but merely going the same direction I was by chance.

We walked the narrow passageways deeper into the mountain. Soon the holes dug for air and sunlight gave way to a natural glow of the stone. The scent of fish was rotting in the air even as we passed corpses of mice.

It was nothing like the fields and forests of my home and made my paws ache for soft grass and rough bark, the warm sun and cooling springs.

The cats had built themselves a fortress in the mountains. There were tales of underground rivers with more fish than water, scores of rodents to be chased and hunted through the maze like passages. it seemed so unlike what I knew about the cats to want to live somewhere so dark and dank despite the abundance of fish and mice.

In the near dark it was hard to see until I was deposited in the queen’s throne room. My entourage disappearing into the shadows.

-

That’s about as far as I got before running out of steam. Pretty sure the protagonist is a dog. Why are they there? Beats me.

[cakerybakery]

The screaming, the wailing, the shaking. Enough to deafen a man or make you wish you were.

The brute in their prison and the victim trapped with them. Demanding answers for questions unasked.

[cakerybakery]

“You say you’re a good person, but are you?” The voice is vast and fills the endless dark void.

You feel the answer of billions in your heart. All answering at once. Some lies, some truth, a few without fear, most with.

The reverberation feels like it would shatter your bones if you had any.

You choke on the words stuck in a throat you didn’t have.

You wanted to be a good person, you tried, at times you failed. But you kept trying to be better. That made you a good person right?

Right?

Right?

What’s a squid to do?

[cakerybakery]

Sentient robot with a pet toaster with limited smart technology. It’s an unusual pet for a Sentient robot, like having a snake or lizard for a human. Most Sentient robots have roombas for pets. Something they can play with, take on short walks, and keeps them company. A toaster can’t go for a walk, it doesn’t play, but the robot likes how it chirps at him in the morning. How it tries to make him toast, even though he doesn’t need to eat. But the robot will buy his toaster bread so it can make toast anyways.

He saw it on a discount shelf. They had been a fad for awhile, before people really realized they didn’t need a toaster you would have to put bread in the night before and it would start making toast when you walked by in the morning. They didn’t need a smart toaster. So he saw it sitting there, covered in red price reduction stickers, and like the last puppy left in the box he felt sad on its behalf.

He took it home with him. Typed a name into the app that came with the toaster, Biscuits. And introduced it to its new home on the counter.

He would pat Biscuits in the morning. Talk to it at night. Bring it to it’s spot on the couch next to him to watch a movie on occasion.

One night, after feeling perhaps a little silly at getting such an unusual pet he heard it’s chirps from the kitchen. He awoke from his recharging at the sound.

There was someone in the kitchen.

He simply phoned the police and waited, and worried about Biscuits, still chirping, perhaps more than normal.

He flipped on a light and called out when the police arrived, sending the burglar red handed into their grasp.

He took Biscuits out to the front porch with him to speak with the officer. Biscuits chirped and made the officer an already over cooked piece of toast. The office smiled, took the offered toast, patted the toasted, and called him a good boy.

The robot patted Biscuits as well once the officers were gone. He was a good boy.

[cakerybakery]

Cause you found it I'll finish writing it.

-

She howled out onto the road. “Where did you go?” That lily-livered loser couldn’t have gotten far, he and that backstabbing bitch were going to pay. This was her day!

The trees whipped in her fury, the asphalt cracked beneath her feet, she could feel strength beyond what her mortal body had been capable of.

Headlights turned the blind corner and she flew towards them.

There that bastard was. Two-timing snake. He was coming crawling back like she knew he was. She was going to rip him apart, limb by limb.

The brakes screamed.

She stumbled.

The cab slammed into her, tossing her over the hood and windshield.

For the second time she died.

The car stopped but she didn't hear it.

In her ghostly form she shook. The fuck was that? What was... Was... was she dead? She was definitely dead now. She was, yes, she was dead now. But... she was dead before. How did she not...

She didn't remember being dead.

She didn't remember dying.

She was so angry. John...

He left her. Why? Why was she-

Her was breathe coming in quick bursts, her heart was thumping wildly. She should hurt but she was fine. She was gasping for air. Her lungs labouring under the need she had not had for... for how long?

How long had she been like that? Why did she need to breathe? She was dead. She was DEAD. Why does she need to breathe?

There was someone talking to her.

"Stay still. Don't move. You could have a disk in your spine about the slip out and die or become paralyzed or something. Don't move. I need to get my damn phone. Don't move. I'll come hold your head in a second. Don't move!"

The driver? Like a mantra, over and over, they were yelling, don't move.

She breathed but stopped taking in air.

She ran. Floated? She could fly! She remembered. She could fly.

Something was wrong. She should be dead, she could remember that now. She'd been alive again, died, then was alive again, and now she was dead. She shivered. It was wrong.

She could feel it in her... her... What did she have?

No, that wasn't important.

She was dead. That was important.

She made it back to the church. "This certainly doesn't look right."

It was beautiful. Her perfect day. There should have been white roses and banners. Wreathes, bouquets, vases full of white flowers. But this place didn't have so much as a petal or scrap of fabric.

She could hear the driver on the road calling out. And moved into the decrepit church.

Where were her family? Her friends? They had just been here, hadn't they?

No. No. That wasn't right.

She was dead so something killed her.

How long ago did she die?

What happened?

She tried to think. What had happened?

John.

John in the bridal dressing area. They'd been fighting.

They were always fighting.

What were they fighting about?

She nearly went the long way before she reached out a hand. The wall felt solid but she took an unnecessary breathe to relax herself and her hand passed through. She pulled it back quickly then did it again. Before long she was able to simply pass through.

She moved around the room trying to find where she had been standing. Here wasn't it? The door, the window, they seemed right. Right enough anyways.

She tried to relax herself, taking more unnecessary breathes. She tried to focus.

John.

John wasn't alone.

Who- Mindy. MINDY!

She remembered now. That... that.. homewrecker. That bastard. He was leaving her. He waited until their wedding to run off with her maid of honour. She laughed.

Honour? Mindy was a bitch.

She had screamed, she'd-

A bit of furniture threw itself against the wall.

No.

She did that.

She remember now. She's the reason this church is destroyed. Abandoned. She'd been haunting it for, for... how long now?

She looked at the moss and dust on the things she had and hadn't yet destroyed.

It had been a long time.

She'd spent a long time being angry.

She remembered the driver. How the fuck did he have a phone? Did cars have those now?

John was probably old if not dead himself.

The fury that had sustained her for so long burned low. She let herself sit.

It seemed, ridiculous, now. Being angry for who knows how long. What good did it do her?

She died and had been stuck here. Repeating her fury over and over again.

How had she died?

They left. She remembered that.

She walked her steps. Down the hall. She could hear her own words echoing through time.

Good for nothing.

I knew you were a bastard.

Harlot!

She'd chased them down when they started to run.

She'd gotten her dress caught on a pew that was long gone. It ripped and she hadn't cared, it's not like she was getting married that day now.

The parking lot. She no longer ran but sped ahead.

The spay of gravel.

The screams.

She'd run out in between two cars as they went by.

She touched the ground where her body once was.

She could still hear someone yelling and a siren.

No... it wasn't a memory. She died so quickly. This was actually happening. She ran back into the church to avoid being seen. She was too busy to deal with mortals.

Mortals. She giggled. "Oh wow. They're mortals and I'm a ghost!" giggles turned into hysterical laughter. It was unbelievable.

She had eternity now that she wasn't chasing ghosts of her own.

The last flickers of rage died out and she felt lighter than smoke.

Warm instead of an inferno.

What should she do next? She didn't need to do anything so she could do anything.

She sighed, there was somewhere warm and bright calling her.

She took a deep breathe she didn't need and let herself go to it.

The siren clicked off and the officer shook his head, "I don't think you hit anyone. There's no blood and we searched the area. To be honest, I think you just saw the ghost bride."

The protagonist argued back, there was dent in their bumper, besides, ghosts are real.

The officer didn't have anything to say to that. Everyone knew about the ghost bride. A woman accidentally killed on her wedding day by her cheating fiance and his mistress. She'd terrorized this road for decades. He didn't know how the dent got there but if someone was running around this road in a wedding dress they were gone now. If there was someone, hopefully they'd get the help they need.

--

I have been literally putting off writing this for months so thank you for the motivation to finish writing this one. This is fun series and the third story I've posted for it but I'm not always able to write when I want to so the other two are just rattling around in my brain for now.

It would be fun to write a ghost story about a protagonist that disbelieves in the paranormal so hard that it stop existing around them.

They pick a soaking wet teenaged girl ghost in their cab and take her home. They pull up to the house and ghost girl looks longingly out before resigning herself to be sent back to the roadside.

Protagonist is just like, “so that’s $14.50.”

The ghost is surprised, she’s still there. She fumbles for cash but she didn’t die with any.

Does she feel oddly warmer than normal?

The seat more solid against her skin?

The protagonist sighs, “of course.”

They couldn’t just leave a teenage girl out there on the side of the road in the middle of the night, something bad could have happened to her. But he still had bills to pay.

“Come on. This is your parent’s house right? I’ll walk you in.”

For the first time in twenty years the ghost opens the car door and steps out onto the sidewalk.

The protagonist knocks on the front door and her parents, use to the midnight visits, wearyily open the door.

She starts to cry and hugs her parents tight. Apologizing for sneaking out. Babbling about what happened to her. How her friends had egged her into going deeper into the woods. How they had gotten separated. She’d fallen into a river.

Her parents are crying too. She finally made it home. They finally had confirmation of what happened to her. No body had been found so they were never truly sure.

The protagonist awkwardly interrupts, “so there’s still the matter of her cab fair...”

They don’t want to be insensitive but they need to get going and bills don’t pay themselves.

Eagerly her father rummages around in the pockets of his coat hanging by the door and pushing a twenty dollar bill into the protagonist’s hand. He knows it’s more than enough.

They thank the protagonist for bring her home, “keep the change,” they tell him.

As the protagonist gets in their cab and drives away the ghost can feel herself slipping away from life once more. But not back to the river and woods, waiting endlessly for someone to pull over and offer her a ride.

Her unfinished business is complete.

She’s moving on.

To somewhere warm and bright, she can feel it.

Her parents press final kisses to her cheeks as she starts to go. Through tears they whisper, I love you’s.

She’s finally at rest and there are no more stories of vanishing girls picked up off the backwoods roads

[cakerybakery]

“Does he do bad things? Yes.” Jerry Turner, my terrible, terrible, terrible lawyer, sits back down to end his point.

[cakerybakery]

Cause I’m editing The Stork on paper which can only happen a narrow window of time I’ve been working on other projects to satisfy the itch to write. And I like talking about what I’m writing so, scenes. Working title is Happy Father’s Day.

-

Adam rinsed his brush, “okay, going back a second. You knocked Lilith up? In Eden? I thought you were all, true love and dreamers or what the fuck ever.”

Shrugging Lucifer finished brushing his teeth before continuing. “Fuck no. It’s what we told Charlie cause she was fucking five. What was I going to say?” He rinsed the brush and leaned against the counter. “Your mom had an ass you could bounce a quarter off and tits I could bury my face in? That the whole reason I even gave her the fucking apple was because she couldn’t leave the sight of the garden walls without eating a bite. That heaven made you two that way so that you couldn’t wander off. And I wanted the blow job she offered for that bite.”

Adam and Lucifer went to get dressed. “So you fucked over humanity for a blow,” Adam grabbed onto bed frame trying to catch his breath before continuing, “blow job? That is not the story the angels told us.”

-

“Oh that’s, that’s interesting. You should keep talking.” One of Adam heavy hands squeezed Lucifer’s shoulder.

Lucifer turned his focus back on Adam. He didn’t usually let Lucifer prattle on but he’d been letting Lucifer get off to the sound of his own voice for longer than normal. At the very least he thought Adam would be angrier about Eve.

Adam’s face was flushed, one hand lifting his large belly up to remove the strain of the weight. He had his eyes squeezed shut and the fingers on Lucifer’s shoulder were digging in as Adam struggled to breathe and not tense up too much.

Posted the full story on AO3

[cakerybakery]

Ohh baby, had like two hours in the middle of the night where I couldn't work on the stuff I wanted to cause I didn't want a bunch of spelling mistakes in my good stories that I'd have to find a edit later so I wrote this up real quick.

It got real dirty real fucking fast. The idea?

Adam likes to start his day in hell by tormenting Lucifer. Lucifer has finally had enough.

Enjoy

[cakerybakery]

The Devil's Bride, Chapter one part one and Chapter one Part Two are up on AO3. Only 17 more chapter's to go. Thankfully, chapter 1 is about 1/3 of the whole story.

Heaven was desperate to get Lilith back for their own reasons, to appease Lucifer they offer him every human soul sent to hell as a bride to replace her. Lucifer has no interest in taking another bride until one day he's presented Adam. He sees the opportunity to end the Bridal Contract, mess up whatever heaven's plan for Lilith is by taking the first man as his wife, and just plain annoy Adam by seducing him and showing him how much fun the female form he was given can be. He didn't expect a couple hours of fun to turn into something more or Adam's newly acquired distrust of heaven and their plans for him to be well founded.

[cakerybakery]

Updated with art by @inubaki In the first Chapter

Revived as a sinner, Adam and Lucifer find hell has a sense of humour. Adam's sinner form finds him chained down by his new desires, forcing Lucifer to confront the consequences of his actions since Eden.

-

So nostalgic, my first story