#mr stump the man you are today

[spirallingstarcases]

maybe i’m obsessed. none of you can prove it though.

[brummiereader]

MASTERLIST PREVIOUS PART

Uptown Girl (Part Two)

Summary: As the war of words, and destruction of inanimate objects continues between you and the blue eyed squatter in your home, Mr Thomas Shelby. You are pulled back into reality from the distraction of his presence and quickly reminded of your impending, dreaded nuptials when your fiance pays you a visit. But with the Birmingham gangsters observing eyes never missing a thing. What will he make of your husband to be's unruly hand when he sees the true nature of your relationship, and that of the man you're set to marry?

Warnings: Language, angst, manipulation, domestic violence, use of one racial slur

Word Count: 4332

Authors Note: £17,000 British sterling pound in 1924, is worth £850,000 in todays value.

" Thank you for coming on such short notice, Mr Abbott" you graciously greeted the piano tuner as you walked him to the main living area, crossing your arms in an attempt to put a stop to your fidgeting hands, and the relentless twiddling of your anxious fingers. How on earth were you going to explain this one? you smiled nervously to the portly man sporting an impressive moustache. It's perfectly curled, whiskery ends reaching the very tops of his wind-chapped cheeks.

After the previous days' eventful morning and a much warranted reminder that you were in fact, living with a gun-welding gangster. Tommy, your unwelcome housemate, single handedly took it upon himself to move your bullet-ridden grand piano into the living room and away from the vicinity of his quarters and ringing ears.

And with one morning of your musical skills having been missed, you were keen to reset the alarm for the following day. Or so, that's what you thought.

" What seems to be the problem then, Miss?" the man that had once sold you the precious musical instrument queried. His passion for his craft rarely seeing him leave his workshop where he preferred the sound of the ivory keys more than any human voice.

" Oh, just a small one" you replied, pushing the wooden door open. "A missing key" you found a way around to describe the charred bullet hole in the non existent note of B. B for bastard, you thought to yourself and the vandal that had destroyed it as your brow furrowed in confusion at the renowned craftsman who was now wide-eyed as you both stepped into the room.

"Oh, well this...this..." words stumped you as you turned your head to see your once glossy piano now in a piled heap of wood in the middle of the room. The hatchet used for it's barbaric destruction embedded at the very point of its woody mountain.

" Excuse me, for just, one moment" you forced a smile through the fury rapidly bubbling under your skin as you quickly turned on your heel, leaving the horrified pianist alone with the piano he had poured his love, sweat and tears into crafting as he pitifully pressed his finger down onto the only remaining chiming key of C. C for...

"Mr Shelby!" you shouted marching through the corridors in search of the only person capable of committing such a monstrosity as you came to a stop in front of the office door. Your learnt manners quickly escaping you when you stormed through without the polite formalities a lady such as yourself would possess, having had a governess for the majority of your childhood years.

"Mr Shelby!" You repeated, flying pass the opening door to see the squatters sleeves rolled up, a peak of chest hair visible through the open top button of his collared shirt your flustered stare had witnessed twice in already twenty-four hours. Hardly gentlemanly, you scoffed to yourself as your heated cheeks darted away from his causal choice of attire.

" On the mantel", Tommy said mid conversation, looking up from the papers between his fingers to the young worker with a brassy ornament in his hand.

"Mr..."

" No Beethoven this morning, eh?" He stopped you as he leant back into his leather chair with a satisfied smirk etched on his lips as you strutted forward, and the young employee made a swift exit. "Or maybe some, Mozart?" His lips tightened into a smile as he subtly cocked his head to the side, reaching for a much needed drag of a cigarette the stress of your presence gave him.

" What is all this?" you looked around the room, forgetting your barrage of accusations when your eyes widened at the many various objects he had added to your father's office to replace the ones you had hoarded.

" Oh, no, no, no. This won't do, this won't do one bit!" you said in horror, piling them into your arms whilst you made your way around the room as Tommy's scrunched brow followed you until you came to a stop in front of him. " This is my office you've just come in and commandeered. And my piano, you..."

" I think you mean my piano. In my living room. In my house, no?" Tommy corrected you as he lit a cigarette, his squinting eyes skimming over your figure hugging dress. You weren't exactly making it easy for him to look away. To ignore your bossy presence, he thought to himself as his blue-eyed stare lingered longer than intended before he snapped himself away from his wandering eyes and stood up, adjusting his tailored waistcoat.

" Look, we seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot" he said, playing the peace maker in attempt to replace the ferocious frown boring into him.

"The wrong foot?" You scoffed, shaking your head as he perched himself casually on the edge of the oak desk in front of you, the playful glint in his eyes toying with you through the cloud of smoke seeping from the rolled cylinder of tobacco between his fingers. " We got off on the wrong foot, the moment your foot stepped into my house and you shot, then destroyed my piano"

" Right. So those early wake up calls weren't to piss me off then? Drive me out, eh?" he cocked a brow as his tongue ran across his bottom lip, the slappable smile now teasingly glaring back at you, further irritating you.

"I...I"

"Yes, Y/N?" His brows raised, waiting for the smart response he knew your brain was trying to scramble together as he continued to keep you on a first name basis.

" I..." You stopped yourself, before you blurted something you would later berate your flustered brain for saying.

"Just so you're aware, Mr Shelby. I happen to play the violin too" you said as you wittiness finally caught up with the anger demanding all the free space in your head. "And poorly" you finished, stealing the smugness sitting on his teasing smirk as you quirked a brow. His widening eyes coming to the quick realisation that if he was going to get even an ounce of sleep to fill his notorious lack in slumber, there would need to be an urgent manhunt for the destruction of every musical instrument you possessed.

" Have at it, love" Tommy's heavy footing stomped after you as you turned for the door, his casual response hiding the protruding bone of irritation in his clenching jaw. " Last bit of fun until you're sent off to marry, eh?" He delivered the damning reminder of your predicament hot on your heels as your head snapped back to see him stood directly behind you, watching your satisfied smile drain.

" Cal Astor, no?" Tommy pointed to you, his cigarette resting loosely between the callous pads of his fingers. He'd been looking into you, gathering information, your mind urgently tried to weigh out how much he had learnt of your dire situation as your sharp glare met his. " One of the top ten richest men in the country. What a catch" he slipped the attained details of your fiance's status to you with a smirk.

" Tell me, Y/N. Why would a young lady such as yourself, weeks from marrying into one of the wealthiest families in the country care so much for bricks and mortar? " He questioned, blowing a cloud of smoke into the room as his interrogating stare bore into you while you stood momentarily lost for words once again.

"Oh, Sissy?" your brothers irritating pet name called to you from the foyer as a palpable silence settled in the room, pressuring one of you to make the first move.

" You have a guest, love" Tommy's gravelly voice broke the tension as he raised his brows, his challenging glare undisrupted from your brothers bellowing voice.

In a dramatic display of discontent for not only the way he had intruded into your home, but also, the details of your private life he had infringed on. You purposely released the items in your arms to the floor, when the sharp end of an ugly ornament stabbed you in the toe in the process, eclipsing your unfaltering stance to not have the stranger in front of you win another battle in the war he had declared.

Stifling the whelping pain now throbbing through your foot, Tommy waited and watched with curiosity. Thoroughly impressed that the lady in front of him, born with heirs and graces, had gone so long without a mere whimper, or foul-mouthed word. Was you really that bloody stubborn?

Holding in your impending scream, you swiftly turned your back and made your way out the door. Hobbling to the nearest wall, a stroppy, frustrated, grunt of pain left your lips while you lifted your throbbing foot, clutching your toe in pain as Tommy breathed out a heavy sigh and fell into the leather upholstered chair behind the wall next to you. How long would you both keep this up until you came to a solution? And how many toes, ornaments and any other inanimate object would be sacrificed in the process?

" Ahh there she is. My dear, sister" Johnathan greeted you as you walked forward through the bruising pain you had unintentionally inflicted on yourself.

" How's the houseguest?"

" Trespasser, Johnathan" you corrected him as you winced from one foot to the other, trying to ease the pressure of your swelling toe.

" Blimey, that bad?" he chuckled resting his heavy arm over your shoulders, forcing you back on to two feet with a shudder of pain. " Don't fret baby sister, church bells will be ringing soon. Then you'll be rid of this gloomy dump!" he said, squeezing you into him with a rough pat to your arm.

"Aha! Speaking of the husband to be" Johnathan said letting go as you looked up at the smartly polished dress shoes walking your way. Your stomach dropping at the sound of his voice beckoning closer.

" Darling" a voice broke through your brother's chatter as your fiance snaked his hand around your waist, leaning into your cheek.

" Cal" you meekly voiced as you turned your head away from him, earning you a scornful glare and a sharp squeeze to your hip.

"Playing hard to get are we?" Cal scoffed a laugh through his pearly whites, the insult of you refusing his affection in front of company further angering him and his tightening grasp that had become prone to landing blows to your delicate skin.

" You won't see my sister give in that easily, Cal" Johnathan laughed through the cigar between his teeth, oblivious as per usual to the true nature of his friend and acquaintance he had latched on to. Or rather, money he had latched on to.

"Indeed" Cal looked down at you with a smirk, having already had his way with you.

A moment of fear, of weakness. You told yourself when you had given into his forceful demands as he hitched up your dress whilst his heavy frame climbed on top of you.

Coerced, guilted, or even a last plea of naive hope on your part to have him finally let you be if you gave him what he wanted, you'd tell yourself in moments of reflection and sorrow for the part of yourself you lost that night when you dulled his predatory insistence with whatever drink you could find. Was that why you gave him so much power? Because he was your first intimate, and now tainted experience?

" Frances, one moment!" Johnathan called, jogging after your housekeeper as he watched her hurry away from your brother's long list of demands she knew she'd be dumped with if she didn't make a quick escape.

" You disappoint me Y/N" your fiance abruptly turned you to face him, now alone together, and away from observing eyes. " Was quite the surprise when I sent a car for you the other night and it returned, empty. My fiance, missing" he said as you tried to leave when his strong grip came down on your arm, bruising through your skin. "You're not going to go missing again are you, darling?" his irritation was felt through the sarcasm laced in his words.

Too many times had you avoided his invitations, had you purposely found yourself out of town when his presence increased with the death of your father and the rules of courting he had imposed to keep any premarital scandals at bay. The only rule your father had ever implemented in your life that you were thankful for.

" No" you shook your head, your strong character once again unable to stand up to the man you had unwillingly passed so much control of your words and actions over to.

" Good girl" he chided, a satisfied smirk growing on his lips closing in on yours as you flinched at his pressing hold around your reddened wrists, forcing you to endure his embrace.

" Johnathan, the car" he smiled breaking away, releasing you from his grip as he called for your brother who childishly waited on his every word.

Stood alone in the foyer, rubbing the taste of him from your swollen lips, the bruising soreness from your bluing skin, you watched as your brother entertained the man you had become to loathe, when your tearful eyes turned to see Tommy stood between the frame of the office door, having witnessed the most vulnerable part of your existence you had shamefully hidden away.

For be it poor or rich. A woman's woes in the time you lived in were always unheard, always played down to an inaudible silence. And Tommy was no fool to think otherwise, as he too stood silently watching you walk away without a word.

Sat in the bay window of your room later that morning, you smiled as you watched the stable hand pat down your mare's dusty coat, giving her the pampering she deserved.

"Your tea, Miss" Frances announced as she walked through the door with a silver platter of England's finest, freshly brewed. " Good heavens! What ever happened to your foot?" She said upon seeing your expanding toe precariously resting on a stack of cushions and books. 

" Mr Shelby" you said as your eyes narrowed in on the trespasser now approaching your thoroughbred down in the courtyard.

" Mr Shelby did this?" Frances' eyes widened upon hearing your accusations as she examined your lack of care for your swelling digit doubling in size.

" No, Mr Shelby's ghastly ornament did that" you said briefly looking at your propped-up foot before your attention returned to outside. " What on earth is he doing?" You curiously observed the squatter, his presence a welcome distraction to your impending nuptials and crippling worries. Not that you would admit it, of course.

" Oh my" Frances's hand flew to her chest as she watched the bridle being adjusted to your saddleless horse. " I should go warn him" Frances turned to leave when you hoped up with a giddy smile as you searched for the shoe you would force to fit around your ballooning foot.

" No, no" you gently rested your hand on your housekeeper's arm, stopping her from sabotaging your fun. " Let him find out himself" you grinned as you limped to the door, leaving Frances shaking her head disapprovingly at the woman she had cared for since she was a rosy-cheeked baby, toddling from one foot to the other.

Stood by the stable door, you curiously watched as Tommy whispered words of gentle reassurance to your horse, brushing his hand down her muzzle as your steps apprehensively approached closer, unsure if the topic of conversation would be your finances heavy hand he saw earlier that day, you wished not to discuss.

" How's your toe?" Tommy asked, his cigarette resting loosely between his lips as he turned to face you with an emerging smile dimpling the corners of his eyes.

" My toe? Good as new" you lied, badly, as you crossed your arms at the amusing chuckle leaving your unwanted guests' lips." You should saddle her" you warned him as you watched him lead her towards you, secretly hoping he would continue his refusal to listen to your bossy demands.

" Was born riding, love. Think I can handle her" he confidently proclaimed as he shot you a wink. " Come on, steady now" he patted her side as you followed behind them, eager to see him unceremoniously take a blow to his insufferable cockyness.

" What's her name?" He asked as he lifted himself up, adjusting the reigns in his hands to his liking.

" Nelly" you said as you leant back on the wooden fencing of the small paddock, taking the weight of your throbbing foot you had shoved into the soles of your tightly laced boots.

" Nelly, eh?" Tommy quietly mumbled clearing his throat, suddenly doubting his riding skills as he looked down at the jittery creature bouncing from hoof to hoof. " Steady, girl" he managed to control her erratic movements as he pulled back the reigns with a gentle pressure. " Don't show me up, Nell. I'll never hear the end of it" he quietly whispered to your horse with a pat to her neck as you watched on with amusement.

" See, we're doing alright. Aren't we Nelly?" Tommy called out to both you and your horse as he trotted along the muddied ground. " She just needs some firm guidance, is all" he said as he passed by your rolling eyes. " With a horse like..." Tommy continued his unsolicited advice when a freckled orange and black butterfly passed in front of him, causing Nelly to rear up in fear before throwing him off and bolting away.

" Shit" Tommy huffed at the sound of your approaching hysterics as he lay in the mud, his ego having been embarrassingly taken down a few notches off it's high pedestal.

" Am I in hell?" he opened one eye to see your smirking face looming over him with your hand out for him to take, when your smile turned to a scowl and you let him drop to the ground once again. " No, still alive" he grunted as he pulled his body and throbbing head back up, resting his arms on his bent knees as he watched your horse trot towards you. " Her name wouldn't happen to stand for nervous Nelly, would it?" Tommy looked up at you both as he watched you nuzzle your head against her neck, her thumping heart slowly settling with your tender touch.

" Nervous Nelly, notorious Nelly. Even nutty Nelly at one point. My girl has earned herself quite a collection of nicknames, haven't you, darling" you said as you cupped your hand under her muzzle, letting her lick the saltiness of your palms.

" Here" you said, putting your free hand out for him to take. " Are you hurt?" You asked as you both hobbled out of the paddock back to the stables. Both a sight of giggling fits for the staff of Arrow House looking from behind the twitching curtains of your shared home.

" No more than your toe is" he smiled down at you as you walked beside each other, free of any bellowing voices or snide remarks for the first time in almost a week, having both taken a dramatic blow to your obnoxious stubbornness.

" Mr Shelby" you turned to face him as you gave the reigns to your stable hand. " How much did my father owe you?" You took the opportunity to ask the question that had been nagging you in your brief truce before the battle of words recommenced.

" £17,000" Tommy exhaled as he looked at you from the corners of his eyes, a feeling of pity for you and the burden your father had selfishly lumbered you with stopping him from making any smart remark.

With a future of little prospects, other than that of a high-society marriage, every woman such as yourself was destined for. Tommy had come to the knowledge that your father had secured your life by marrying you off into wealth rather than leaving you with his fortune to pave your own way in life.

As your eyes widened and the learnt details of your fathers debt and how big of a whole he had dug in his wake. A guttural feeling of dread weighed down your stomach at the large sum of money your father owed, nearly exceeding that of Arrow Houses' value.

" I will pay you back, Mr Shelby" you said as you looked back to your home and it's surrounding land. Suddenly feeling you had nothing else to offer other than your word.

"Look, Y/N..."

" I will find a way, Mr Shelby" you made a pledge you knew would be near impossible to uphold if the deeds to your house had indeed, no standing.

With a small nod of his head, Tommy gazed down at you as a brief moment of peace captured him in the silent breeze of summer blowing a lock of hair drifting across your cheek, glittering with the welcome rays of the midday sun. A silence you both welcomed in the neutral grounds of no man's land until the sound of your brother hurtling down the drive, car horn blaring, deafened your ears.

" Sister! I won it! I bloody won it! " Your brother laughed maniacally, high on his win with a wad of cash in his hands, having spent the entire morning in the casinos with your fiance.

" God's sake" you felt the embarrassment of your brother's presence as your eyes darted to Tommy undoubtedly judging your renowned noble name, questioning how a family such of your selves came to inherit it as you watched him ignite a cigarette behind the orangery glow of the flame.

" Sweet pea" Cal's voice approached you as you shifted away, stumbling into Tommy as you did. " Sorry" you apologised, tucking a rebel hair behind your ear with your flustered fingers as he steadied your fall with a gentle hand to your back, a touch foreign to you with the heavy strikes you had become accustomed to from the opposite sex.

"Cal, Mr Thomas Shelby. Mr Shelby, Earl Cal Astor" you introduced the two men as you stood in the middle, looking between their glaring stares as you subtly shrugged of your fiances hand on your arm in the process.

"Pleasure" Cal greeted him with a belittling tone of superiority with his hand out as Tommy's hovered momentarily in the empty space between them before lifting it to take a smoke. Only a mere nod of his head in acknowledgment of his presence.

Murder, theft, prostitution, gambling. Tommy did not only live a life in the dark shadows your fiance and brother would visit for entertainment. He was the maker of it. The master puppet to the riches seedy side of life he and his men would adorn with gold-collumed bars, and live jazz music to have them fill his pockets. He had met a dozen men like your fiance. Each a replica of the other. Each of them in the privacy of their home with wives, lovers and maids accustomed to feeling the back of their hand when money didn't get them what they felt they were owed.

There were many things Tommy's wavering moral compass didn't stand for. And have no doubt, he had seen the bruises on your wrists, the tears unspent in your eyes you hid as you hurried away earlier that morning.

"Excuse me. I have a business call" your unexpected houseguest said as he threw his cigarette to the ground, inches from the perfectly kept shoes of your fiance.

" Shelby!" he called with a mocking chuckle, angered by the blow of disrespect he'd been shown. " Perhaps you would grace us with your presence at our engagement ball next week. Then you can find the time away from your pressing business matters for us to get to know the Small Heath gypsy boy living with my soon to be wife" he tauntingly finished with his nose up, lifting the heavy gold signet ring of his family's crest to your lower back you had already felt on numerous occasions, the sharp end of.

Coming to a stop at the steps of Arrow House, you watched the notorious gangster with his hands seated in his trouser pockets as his back stayed turned to you, whilst you silently prayed he would refuse the invitation and childish game of belittling any class below him you knew your fiance was set on making a spectacle out of in sheer spite. A game you were not willing to play.

" Next week it is, Mr Astor" Tommy's low rumbling voice replied, never ceasing the opportunity to further his endeavor as his strong statue disappeared into the darkened foyer and the door shut behind him.

A potential for business, or rather a show of power to the man that had insulted his heritage so freely with one single disdained word used to rile him up and have him show his business acquaintances the true colours of the leader to the notorious cut-throat gang he had kept from their lives until any encouraging reminder was needed. For they were no better than him. Criminals with the most unsavory of dealings. And you had better believe, Tommy had no qualms being the one to show these men their own true colours, and the reminder that they were no different to any small-time thief from Small Heath with only a title of nobility slapped on the end of their name seperating them. No qualms at all.

NEXT PART

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@tiedyedghoulette

[mousy-nona]

Chronicles of Cursed Cat Alastor

One day, the hotel woke up to see Alastor’s perpetual “on air” sign had been turned off. His room was empty, his coffee ice cold. 

And in the middle of the lobby was a cat. Or what seemed to be the approximate shape and size of a cat, but with the strangest, most evil face any of them had ever seen. It grinned up at them and wagged its little stump of a tail, which made Charlie melt into a puddle of happy tears.

“Isn’t he adorable?” She squealed.

And that was that. The cat joined their weird little family – and Lucifer secretly resolved to get his daughter to an eye doctor. Stat. 

—-----------------

“Charlie, are you sure about this one? There’s something weird about that cat.” Lucifer eyed the red thing warily. “It’s looking at Keekee like it wants to eat it!” 

“Don’t be silly! Mr. Montgomery is probably trying to be her friend!” She frowned. “It’s so strange. Keekee’s never been this skittish around other cats before.” 

A thin line of drool was falling from the edge of Mr. Montgomery’s mouth. When he noticed Lucifer watching, he sucked it back up and graced him with a freakish, utterly too human grin.  

—-----------------

Lucifer’s wedding anniversary hit him like a truck. That is, he didn’t handle it very well. He got up, fully intending to make a show of his utterly fantastic mood – haha, look how great I feel! Your mother didn’t crush my heart and set it on fire with a flamethrower after all! – but found it was all too much of a bother, and sat promptly back down. He laid his head on his desk. Just a few more minutes. Then I’ll leave. 

He didn’t even notice Mr. Montgomery had waltzed in until the abomination jumped up onto his desk. The cat loomed over him, his razor teeth inches from Lucifer’s nose. 

“Can I help you?” He sniffled. Couldn’t a man mourn the end of his marriage in peace? 

Mr. Montgomery tilted his head with a sickening crack, his neck nearly bending into a right angle as he studied Lucifer’s red eyes, the mountain of used tissues accumulating by the desk, the ring he was clutching in his hand.

Stretching leisurely (in the exact same way he learned from Keekee, Lucifer noted), Mr. Montgomery strolled over to a picture of Lilith he had on his desk – and smacked it off. He stared at him the entire time, as if daring him to do something about it.

“Are you…are you power playing me right now?” 

“Meow,” Mr. Montgomery sneered. 

“That’s it, you little freak! Come to Daddy!”

When Charlie got home, she found Lucifer with his six wings fully spread and the hotel half destroyed by angelic bolts, panting and wheezing as he tore a couch apart. 

“Dad, what are you doing?” 

He whirled around, his eyes wild as he zapped a vaguely cat-shaped shadow into oblivion. “It’s that monster! That cat! I can hear him in the walls!”

“Isn’t he behind you…?” Vaggie asked.

And he was. Mr. Montgomery was sitting on a shelf over the reception, licking his paw and yawning. 

Lucifer deflated. “Ah. I guess he is.”

“Dad, isn’t today…?” Charlie trailed off, blushing a little.

“Oh! Right. Yes, it is,” Lucifer said. He’d been so busy chasing Mr. Montgomery around, he’d completely forgotten about his anniversary. 

“Are you doing okay?”

He sighed and pulled her into a hug. “Yes, I’m fine. I was a little sad at first, but then I got distracted.”

“Burning down the hotel?” Vaggie asked. Mr. Montgomery meowed and started purring, looking as pleased as a cat that had gotten the cream.

—-----------------

“That cat is trying to kill me!” Lucifer roared, pointing at the wholly unrepentant Mr. Montgomery.

The accused murderer jumped onto Charlie’s lap and started kneading her lap. Everyone let out a collective awww! Charlie nearly teared up, and Angel Dust snapped a picture for his Voxstagram. Even Vaggie, the sole voice of reason, was making what the kids called heart eyes at the monster. 

Lucifer nearly tore out his hair in frustration. “He’s tricking you, don’t you see? That cat has it out for me! This is the third time he’s tried to kick rat poison into my food!” 

“Don’t be silly, Dad! He’s just a cat. Cats knock stuff over all the time!” 

“Rat poison? Three times?” 

Charlie looked around, frowning. “Who keeps putting rat poison on the shelves?” 

No one fessed up. Mr. Montgomery let out a loud purr and fixed Lucifer with the most hair-raising, devilishly smug grin Lucifer had ever seen. 

“Did no one see that? Seriously, did no one else see that?”

—-----------------

A few weeks passed before someone finally broached the question that was on everyone’s mind.

“Has anyone seen Alastor?” Charlie tapped her nose with her pencil, frowning a bit. “It’s strange for him to be gone this long.” 

“Oh, oh! I’ve seen him!” Niffty raised her hand and waved it frantically. “He’s right over there!”

Everyone turned – but all they saw was a furry red blob warming himself near the fire. 

“Niffty, doll, have you been sniffing the toilet cleaner again?” Angel Dust asked gently.

“Nooo, silly. The cat is Alastor!” Niffty chirped, clapping her little hands with delight. Mr. Montgomery – no, scratch that – Alastor blinked his left eye, then his right eye, and smiled blandly up at all of them.

“But…but…how?” Angel Dust stuttered.

She shrugged, her shoulders going all the way up to her ears. “Dunno. He’s got a few weird friends who like to play tricks on him. Isn’t it great? He showed up all fluffy and cuddly! Perfect for hugs!” 

Alastor the Cat looked remotely nervous for the first time since he’d appeared. 

“How do we turn him back?” Lucifer demanded. He would rather die than admit it, but he sort-of-kind-of missed the sadistic demon that made his life Hell. It was getting kind of boring without him around. 

“Dunno! Ask him!”

Once again, they all turned to the cat, who opened his mouth – “Meeeeow.”

[nickfowlerrr]

darling, it's cold outside.

pairing: charles blackwood x curvy!reader

words: 2.7k

warnings: 18+ only. cockwarming. not foot fetish stuff but he does remove her heels for her? lol. pining. little bit of holiday blues mentioned but overall this is pretty fluffy. maybe like the littlest bit soft!dark if you squint.

notes: very happy to be writing for charles again, i've missed him. 🥹

inspired by this txt post, this is one of seven characters i’m writing this prompt of sorts for. thank you in advance for reading and as always, reblogs and comments are welcome and so appreciated. ❣️

"Mr. Blackwood," you call out as you walk down the empty hallway, your heels clacking on the marble flooring as you go, "I remade the guest bedroom like you asked. If there's nothing else for tonight, I was going to be heading home?"

You look into his open office as you pass, he's not there. Curious...

You continue down the hall, peeking into the study, then the tea room, and then the living room - none of which held him. The television in the living room was on, however, so you assumed he must be close by. But where?

Normally you find it difficult to get more than a few minutes alone from him when you're working, but now the man of the house is as elusive as your holiday spirit seems to be this year.

The pitter patter of the rain outside the castle captures your attention as you pass the grand window.

"Oh no," you sigh as you peer out into the dreary scene. The Christmas lights strung up outside appear blurry through the rain droplets on the glass as the sky grows darker with each moment that passes.

You were supposed to be out of here by 3pm, but Charles, for the first time since you'd started working for him, had many a qualm about your cleaning and tidyings today. You had to go over the bathrooms twice and were instructed to remake his bed before reattending to the guest room. It was nearing 5:30 now, and the rain you were hoping to avoid has clearly already begun - and if the weatherman was correct - would be staying long through the night.

It's not a terribly long walk home, but in your uniform, having to walk home in the rain is a less than ideal situation.

But you resign yourself to your fate as you turn from the window and continue on your search for your boss.

"Mr. Blackwood," you call again, "I'm about to be heading home."

As you finish your sentence, crossing in front of the lavish cranberry colored couch, you notice the throw blanket you had folded and put away earlier is now adorning the cushions. You think to check by the linen closet on the other side of the staircase - hoping to find him somewhere over there so he may dismiss you for the night.

You are about to leave the room when suddenly you hear the kettle whistle sharply from the kitchen. Your brows knit together as you stop in your tracks and turn back around to go toward the kitchen instead.

The sound of your heels as you walk informs Charles of your presence as you enter the room. He turns from the stove, having just moved the kettle from one burner to the other, and looks surprised to see you.

"Oh," he said, nonplussed, "you're still here?" His brow was raised as he looked at you.

You felt stumped yourself, standing blankly for a moment before blinking away your confusion. "Yes, I- I just finished remaking the guest bedroom like you asked," you stammered just slightly.

"Oh, perfect. Thank you. You really are an angel, you know that?" he praised, smiling that ever charming smile at you.

You couldn't help but return one of your own, eyes flicking down almost immediately, unable to hold his gaze.

You sucked in a breath, schooling your face as you looked back up. "Did you want to check it over?"

"No," he brushed off with a shake of his head, turning back to open the cabinet behind him, "I'm sure everything is in order. I trust you."

Your lips twitch as you hold back a disbelieving laugh. He seemed so concerned earlier...

"Alright. Well, if that's everything, Mr. Blackwood-"

"Charles," he corrects.

"...Charles," you amend, "if that was all, I was planning on heading out for the night."

"Of course," he agrees, turning to face you once again, with two mugs in his hands. "Do you have time for some hot chocolate, or will your ride be here soon?"

"Oh, I don't have a ride," you hide a grimace at the reminder of your lonesomeness. Well...maybe you could call a cab? But no, that short ride would just feel like a waste of your hard earned money. And anyway, Charles knows you walk to and from. He's chided you on it before. You'll never forget the way you warmed at his concern for you that first time. He had offered you a ride home, but you refused. It was a clear evening and there really was no reason for any fuss. But of course, his worry still made your heart flutter.

The mugs clink as they're set down on the counter, the sound brining you back to the room. "Sweetheart, it's raining. Supposed to only pick up, too. If you were planning on walking, I don't think that'd be a good idea."

The pet name has butterflies taking flight in your tummy as you work to tamp them down.

"It's not that far of a walk, I'm sure I'll be fine."

"I must insist that you stay," he presses, your name sounding so nicely on his tongue. "Please. I would offer you a ride myself but I'm afraid my headlight blew out, I wouldn't be able to see a thing. The guest room would be yours and I could drive you home in the morning. Or, if you insist, the weather should be fairer by then - enough to walk if you really want."

"Oh, really, I would hate to inconvenience you, sir."

"Not at all," he assures you as he prepares both mugs of coco. "In fact, I think it'd be nice to have some company for the holiday. In a house this big, being alone can feel rather lonely."

You consider his words and can't help but agree. "It can feel much the same in a small home, too," you say with a bittersweet smile. "If you really don't mind, I'd be thankful to stay."

"And I'd be thankful for the company," he smiles back. "I was about to start a movie."

You trail behind him slowly as he leads the way back to the living room. When you get to the couch, he sets both mugs down on the coffee table as he gestures for you to sit.

"Please, get comfortable. You've been on your feet all day."

You don't argue and take your seat. The couch is as comfortable as it always looks and you can't help but sigh as you relish the feeling. You almost instinctively kick off your heels, but stop yourself right in time. Charles notices the twitch of your feet, however.

You hold in a gasp as he kneels down before you and takes hold of your foot. His eyes flash up to yours as you stare down at him, lips parted and breath stalled. He slips your heel off and squeezes your foot lightly before repeating the same to your other foot. No words are exchanged as he pops back up and walks to the television. He pushes a tape into the player before sauntering back over to you.

You want to lift a leg up underneath you but don't allow yourself to, especially not while you're in this skirt. Charles takes the spot beside you and you somehow go even more rigid at his proximity.

"I said get comfortable, darling," he chides, pulling you in closer to him, "I meant it."

You allow yourself to fall into his side, and then after a long second, slowly bring a leg up to get more comfortable beside him. Another long moment, and you bring your other leg up as well, repositioning yourself while you shimmy the littlest bit closer.

Charles is warm and the room is a bit cold, so you don't mind how close he actually is. Maybe more aptly, how close you are to him...

You try to focus on the opening scene of the holiday movie you've only heard of before, never actually having had the chance to see it. But as Charles leans over and grabs the throw he'd brought out earlier, he takes over your focus once again. He drapes the blanket over both of you before settling back, essentially right against you now.

Your heart is beating so loud, you're almost sure he can hear it if he listens close enough.

Charles wraps his arm around your shoulder and you instinctively scoot closer still, letting your head rest on his chest trepidatiously. He hums his approval as you do.

"Is this okay?" he asks quietly, keeping the cozy and comfortable ambience in tact.

You're quiet, unsure of what to say. Does it feel okay? It feels like everything you've dreamed of since meeting the man. But is it okay? That you're not so sure of. Are you crossing a line? Is this a mistake?... Oh god, what are you doing? You can't lose this job!

You push yourself to sit up, pulling away from Charles as he looks at you, stunned by your haste.

"I- I'm so sorry, Mr. Blackwood. I don't know what's come over me. I should, I should go," you rush your words as you try to stand.

Try.

Charles' hand is on you in an instant, keeping you in place. You look at him with wide eyes, like a deer in headlights. He says your name and you don't think to try and get up again.

"Darling, I don't know what you're apologizing for. If I've made you uncomfortable, I should be apologizing to you," he says. "...Have I? Made you uncomfortable?"

You stare into the hypnotic gaze of his cerulean blue eyes, taking in his words. It's a moment before you softly shake your head. "No," you nearly whisper. "No, you haven't." He nods, admiring your face as you peer at him.

"That's good. And, it's Ch-"

"Charles," you cut him off. "I know. Habit," you shrug lightly.

"One you'll hopefully come to break," he smirks. "So, back to my question," he pulls you closer, "Was that okay? Being that close to me?"

You nod meekly, "Yes."

"And was it okay that I put my arm around you?"

Another weak murmur as you unconsciously lean into him, "Yes."

"And just to be sure," he breathes, leaning closer into you in return, "do you really want to leave?"

Your breath catches in your throat as you shake your head. "No."

"One last question," he says as he brings a hand to your cheek, holding your face delicately as he urges you closer. You're nose to nose as he continues, "Would it be okay if I kissed you now?"

You smile softly, your lips brush his as you answer him. "Yes," you nod.

He pulls you in gently and your hand holds his to your face as he finally kisses you, so softly you swear you could melt into the cushions.

You murmur again into the kiss as your eyelids flutter shut. Without thinking, you deepen the kiss. You find your body moving without your permission as you pull yourself more into him - almost crawling along the cushions to get closer to him.

Charles doesn't stop you, in fact, he leans back further - pulling you along the way, moving you up his lap.

Your skirt stretches across your thick thighs as you are maneuvered by him onto his lap. You straddle him as his arms come around you, pulling you to be flush against him - his lips never stopping as he kisses you so completely, so passionately. The intensity only grows more fervent as you return the desire in kind.

You mindlessly move your hips against his and he moans at the feeling. The sound of his pleasure is music to your ears and serves to get you even more worked up. You can feel the slickness as it grows between your thighs. And as you rock your hips again, you can feel Charles' excitement, too.

He is hard beneath you, his erection growing more and more prominent with each second.

"Mhm," you mewl against his lips, breaking for a breath, "Charles," you sigh - rocking once more. The friction sending a wave of sparking pleasure through you.

"Does that feel good for you, angel?" he asks, hands grabbing your hips.

You nod helplessly, "Feels so good."

He kisses you again, harder this time as he holds you in place on his lap. "I know what would feel even better," he says huskily.

He reaches for the button of his slacks and you bite your lip, a few nerves building now. You pull away from him ever so slightly as he begins to undo his pants.

"Um, Charles," you nearly whisper, waiting for a response you don't get.

You watch with heavy lidded eyes and parted, pouted lips as he pulls his straining cock from his briefs. You almost feel frozen for a second before one of his hands comes up and buries itself between your thighs. You yelp, squeaking at the touch.

"Charles, I don't know if we should-"

"Oh, sweetheart, don't worry," he hushes you. You gasp with a tremble and a light moan as his deft fingers slide up and along your clothed sex. You tilt your hips as he feels along your cunt and don't stop him when he moves your underwear to the side.

His eyes are trained on your face, he watches as it contorts with the beginning sparks of your pleasure under his touch. His dick is throbbing, on the verge of starting to leak for you.

He can't wait any longer, he's waited so long already. He needs to have you around him. Needs to feel your warmth envelope him and your weight as you sit on him. He doesn't even need to go all the way with you - not tonight. He just wants to feel you.

His tongue slips past his pillowy lips as he grips himself with one hand, guiding his red tip to your tight, slick entrance. He presses against you but you slightly back away - still unsure.

"I just want to feel you, angel. That's all. I promise. Just need you to sit down and that'll be it. Just sit right here and keep me warm for a bit. You can do that, can't you, darling?"

A sigh of relief escapes you as you slacken a bit into him. You can do that, you decide. You nod your head and bring one of your hands to his shoulders. He presses against you again and this time you move into him. You whine at the sting of his intrusion as he helps ease you down onto his length a little at a time. When you are fully seated, you drop your head into the crook of his neck as one of his hands rubs your back.

"Fuck, doesn't that feel nice?" he asks, voice breathy. You only nod against him as your walls stretch around his cock, squeezing him every so often.

"Yes," you huff, "Oh, it feels so nice, Charles."

He pulls you from his neck, brushing his nose against yours as he brings you face to face with him again.

"I knew we'd be a perfect fit," he smirks, kissing you hotly as you press yourself closer to him, returning his kiss.

"I said the guest room was yours, but there's room enough for two in my bed if you'd rather," he simpers.

"I think I just might rather," you whisper with a smile against his lips. You move to sit up but are immediately pulled back down onto his cock. You moan deeply at the movement, the drag of his length along your walls and the way your walls work to keep him inside of you. To be fair, you aren't the most experienced woman in the world, but the feeling of him is unlike anything you've ever felt before. You are entirely full of him and you fear you won't want to ever go empty again.

"Not just yet, sweetheart," he laughs, holding you down. "We aren't even halfway through the movie yet. And we have all night before we take this upstairs, angel. I want to make sure this is a Christmas we'll always remember."

[liaromancewriter]

When Sparks Fly

Premise: Aurora Emery was no stranger to breakups, but what happened next was unexpected.

Book: Open Heart (post series) Characters: Aurora Emery, F!MC (Cassie Valentine); feat M!OC Rating/Category: Teen. Fluff. Words: 1,525

A/N: Submission for @choicesaugustchallenge prompt "fireworks"

Aurora Emery leaned against the counter of the nurses’ station, absently tapping her pen against the countertop. The hum of the hospital around her was familiar, but it didn’t have the same soothing effect as other days.

Halfway through a long shift, her mind was usually filled with thoughts of her current cases. Not today.

Today, there was a lingering ache in her heart, the after-effects of a recent breakup with someone who couldn’t quite grasp the demands of her career.

Aunt Harper had warned her this would happen. But Aurora hadn’t listened even though her inner cynic taunted that it was only inevitable.

Female doctors rarely got as much attention or respect as their male counterparts. When a man said he was a doctor, women lined up around the block. The reverse was not true.

Her brows furrowed in annoyance at the memory of her ex breaking up with her by commenting on her Picta post. He didn’t even have the decency to tell her in person or text her.

The only saving grace was that her Pictagram account was private, and her followers were limited to family and friends.

Still, the whole sordid situation was embarrassing, especially when her grandmother called to commiserate on one hand and tried to set her up with an eligible bachelor from her bridge club on the other.

He wasn’t worth it, she reminded herself vehemently.

“That’s a fierce look,” her friend Cassie Valentine commented as she walked toward Aurora, placing one arm around her shoulder in a quick hug. “Forget that jerkwad. He didn’t deserve you.”

She was the epitome of calm, her long blonde hair neatly twisted up. A crisp white coat with Edenbrook’s crest on the pocket floated around her thighs, complementing the blouse and skirt beneath.

The engagement and wedding band combo on her left hand sparkled under the fluorescent lights, stirring a twinge of envy in Aurora.

“You’re obsessing right now and probably a mess,” Cassie said, placing both hands firmly on Aurora’s shoulders and staring intently into her eyes. “But one day soon, you’ll wake up and realize you’re free of a loser with low self-esteem. And it’s his loss for throwing away the greatest love he’ll ever have.”

Aurora smiled softly, amused but also touched. Cassie had been giving her pep talks since they were interns. Whenever she started feeling sorry for herself, her friend was there with advice that helped her see things clearly and snap out of it.

For most of their intern year, Aurora found her annoying and didn’t hesitate to push her away with rudeness. But Cassie was undeterred by her snarky responses. And one day, Aurora realized they were friends, not rivals.

Speaking of, it was time to shake off these maudlin thoughts and get back to work.

“Thanks for coming here for the consult,” she said, squeezing Cassie’s hand to let her know she was okay.

“Mrs. Hartley is too weak to be moved to Edenbrook. It’s an interesting case.” Aurora handed Cassie the tablet with the patient’s medical history and intake notes. “She’s not responding to any treatment. The team is stumped.”

Cassie grinned as she glanced over the tablet. “So, you’re admitting I’m a better diagnostician than you?”

Aurora smirked, rolling her eyes playfully. “That’s not what I said.”

“And yet, that’s what I heard,” Cassie teased with a wink.

Aurora chuckled, shaking her head. “I’m just saying I could use a fresh perspective—and you’ve always been annoyingly good at this.”

“Annoyingly good? From you, that’s a compliment of the highest order,” Cassie laughed, handing back the tablet. “Let’s go.”

They entered the patient’s room a few minutes later, the steady beeps of the machines echoing in the otherwise quiet space.

“Hello, Mrs. Hartley,” Aurora called out as she entered the room. “I’ve brought my colleague, Dr. Valentine, for a consult.”

Mrs. Hartley, who had been gazing out the window, turned her head on the pillow to greet them. Her eyes were warm as she took them in.

“Aren’t you two the prettiest little things,” she said softly. “It’s comforting to know my doctors are such accomplished young women.”

She pressed a button to raise the back of the bed. “Are either of you single? My son is, and he’s a lawyer. As handsome as his daddy was when he swept me off my feet nearly forty years ago.”

Cassie burst out laughing while Aurora blushed, unable to help feel a bit self-conscious.

“Sorry. Married,” Cassie held up her left hand with a smile.

“Well, I suppose your husband might object,” she added with a playful wink. “Maybe Dr. Emery, then?”

“Your son would be the lucky one in that scenario.” Cassie moved closer to the bed. “Now, I’ve reviewed your chart and Dr. Emery’s notes, but I’d like to ask you some questions…”

Aurora sighed in relief as Cassie tactfully ended the awkward conversation.

Was she really giving off such pathetic loser vibes that even her patients were trying to set her up?

A week later, Aurora leaned against the nurses’ station, taking the weight off her tired feet. She checked her team’s notes, making notations where needed. The sound of approaching footsteps and a throat clearing loudly caught her attention.

She looked up to see a man in his early to mid-thirties, tall and broad-shouldered, with an easy confidence in his stride. His three-piece suit looked custom-made—probably overkill for a warm summer day—and his tie was loosely knotted around his neck.

His hair was slightly tousled as if he’d run his hands through it too many times. Dark amber eyes reflected warmth and confidence, complementing his smooth, deep-toned skin.

“Dr. Emery?” he asked, his voice slightly low.

Aurora nodded, curiosity piqued. “Yes, that’s me. How can I help you?”

He extended his hand, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’m Logan, Logan Hartley. My mother, Joy Hartley, is one of your patients.”

Recognition dawned, and Aurora straightened, shaking his hand. “Of course, Mrs. Hartley. She’s recovering well after the surgery. I was just about to check on her.”

Logan’s smile widened, revealing a dimple on his left cheek. “That’s great to hear. She sings your praises every time I visit. Says you’re an angel in a lab coat.”

Aurora felt a slight blush creep up her neck. “I’m glad she’s in good spirits. She’s a wonderful woman.”

“She suggested—well, ordered, really,” Logan grinned, “that I introduce myself to you.” His eyes twinkled. “And I wouldn’t mind thanking the doctor who’s taken such good care of her.”

His tone was light, but there was something more in the way he looked at her—something that made Aurora’s pulse quicken just a bit.

Maybe it was the exhaustion from the last few weeks or the unexpected interest from a handsome man, but Aurora found herself smiling widely. “Thank you, but I’m just doing my job.”

Logan leaned against the counter beside her, close enough that she could catch the faint scent of his cologne—a mix of cedarwood and something citrusy. “Doing it very well, from what I hear. You must be really dedicated.”

Aurora sighed, a small, rueful smile playing on her lips. “I love what I do.”

“I can see that,” Logan said, his gaze lingering on her in a way that felt both mysterious and thrilling. “But I hope you also find time to enjoy life outside the hospital.”

The comment was casual, but the implication was clear, and Aurora felt her heart skip a beat. It had been a while since someone had looked at her like that and even longer since she had felt the desire to reciprocate.

A week ago, she’d wondered if the demands of her career would always be a barrier to her having a personal life. But here was a man who seemed intrigued, not deterred, by her passion for her work.

“I try.” Her voice was softer than intended. “Though it doesn’t always work out.”

Logan’s eyes met hers, holding them with an intensity that made her breath catch. “Maybe you just haven’t met the right person yet.”

The flirtation was unmistakable now, and Aurora found herself at a loss for words—something that rarely happened to her. She wasn’t used to the feeling of being seen as more than just a doctor. But the way he was looking at her made her feel breathless.

“Maybe,” she admitted, finally finding her voice.

Logan’s smile was slow and deliberate, sending a warm thrill through her. “We should fix that. When you’re not saving lives, of course.”

Aurora outwardly hesitated but her heart fluttered at the unspoken invitation. She wasn’t the type of woman to just go with the flow. But planning every aspect of her dating life hadn’t worked out, and neither had the various dating app profiles.

So, why not take a chance on something new?

“And by we, I really meant me,” he added hurriedly, his eyes swimming with amusement. “I’m asking you out, in case that wasn’t obvious.”

“I’d like that, Logan,” Aurora said, her smile matching his. “I’d like that a lot.”

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

All Fics & Edits: @bluebelle08 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @jerzwriter @justyourusualash

@lady-calypso @kyra75 @mainstreetreader @peonierose @potionsprefect

@queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @snoopdogcone @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction

Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

[whatiwishfanfiction]

Chapter 14 is up!

Super late post today, but here it is! THIS PART IS THE MOST SAD. The movie didn't make enough consequences for his actions.

Excerpt:

"How've you been, sir? Are you doing well, Mr. Once-ler?" a forlorn voice asked.

Once-ler spun around. "You?!”

The Lorax didn't say anything for a while. The sound of rain over the balcony grew heavier as the storm rumbled behind him.

"Just came to look at the view. You've accomplished a lot, haven’t you?"

Once-ler backed away at the sound of thunder as the Lorax entered the office. The mossy old creature hopped onto his desk to stare at the model city. His torso was matted and streaked with grease. Wiry hairs stuck out from his mustache and eyebrows like bent broom bristles. The fur that had once had an attractive orange sheen was all brown now, caked with dirt, and had a damp, washed-out look. The Lorax might have been a chewed up jelly bean that had been spat back out.

"The Virtue of Selfishness," the Lorax read the title of one of Once-ler's books, stroking his mustache. "Lessons we could all learn from, I'd guess."

"You know what? I don't want to hear from you right now!" Once-ler yelled. "All you do is say everything is bad, and I'm really sick of it." He seized the Lorax and hoisted him under his arm, ignoring the creature's protests.

"It's not just the trees I'm trying to save,” the Lorax’s voice cracked, “but you, from digging your own grave."

Once again, the door wouldn't open when Once-ler tried it, and the alarm wouldn't go off when he pulled it. But he wasn’t going to  be defeated. He carried the Lorax to the balcony and held him at arm's length. The Lorax hovered over dark hills that had been uniformly sheared—bristly white stumps where once had been trees dotted the shaved hills of dead grass. Advanced axe-hackers rolled by like monsters, searching for more wood that they couldn't find, before wheeling away to look deeper into the mist.

"Are you going to kill me?" asked the Lorax.

"I know you're causing the storms," growled Once-ler, shaking him. "The thunder that never stops, the lightning that strikes my tower.  And all the clouds that have that same purple hue as when…" He trailed off, remembering the first tree he'd cut down, when he'd first seen the Lorax come out of the sky. 

If it wasn't for that day, he'd have believed the Lorax was no more than a funny animal like the Barbaloots or humming-fish, with a higher cognitive level and more annoying voice box. But it had been the sight of him that day, coming out of the sky with a terrible look in his eyes, that, as much as he tried to forget, made Once-ler secretly terrified he really was a deity. 

His hands trembled as the Lorax's beetle black eyes bored into his, suddenly looking very old and very powerful. Once-ler wondered if it was even possible for the Lorax to die. “Whatever you're doing, I want you to stop it. Right now," he growled, not recognizing his own voice. With each word, he leaned closer over the edge of the balcony.

"Why?" asked the Lorax. "You don’t seem to care how your own actions are fouling the air."

"Yer rusting up my factory. We got work to do. I’m the one in the legal right here. So make it stop." His face was close enough to feel the Lorax’s mustache.

The Lorax chuckled at this, legs dangling over the parapet. "Laws and codes, written by man. What have they to do with nature's plan? What have they to do with morals or your soul? Are laws the things that define all your goals?" His long, spindly hand slowly reached out and grabbed his tie.

Before Once-ler knew it, they were both falling. Through wind and rain they plummeted as the storm thickened. Soon a churning mist concealed everything around them as they tumbled through a funnel of purple clouds, a passage that went on much longer than Once-ler knew it should have. 

As they spun round and round, reality evaporated. It was as if Once-ler was melting into the Lorax and the Lorax was melting into him, until nothing but a haze of orange and green remained. Then they unconnected, plunging their separate ways.

Once-ler's spine cracked against a pipe, and he bounced onto the black, dry riverbed where water no longer ran. His head spun; reality had not gone quite back to normal. Somehow they had survived the fall as if it had been merely from a playground, rather than half a mile from the tallest building in the city. His back, however, would never be quite the same. Sharp pains when he attempted to straighten himself told him it had been fractured.

The Lorax was standing on a rock, eyes aglow, fixed on his enemy. An army was growing around him of bloodied, skeletal birds missing patches of feathers, a few crinkled fish that had been too weak to leave, and the ghostly Barbaloots that hadn't died yet.

Once-ler choked, and limped behind a rock. "I don't want any trouble," he pleaded. 

The Lorax gave a slight nod to the army behind him, and they marched somberly back into the gray expanse. As they trailed away, single file, Once-ler knew in his heart they were marching to their deaths. At the end of the line he spotted an animal he hadn't thought of in a long time. His old friend, Melvin.

"Hey…!" He crawled up to the trembling old animal that fell to the ground. Melvin put his head in Once-ler's lap. His coat was thin and sooty, breaths slow and tired. The eyes that met his master's were filled with sadness that slowly dimmed into an empty stare as his head slumped to the ground.

READ THE FULL CHAPTER ON AO3~!

[mynameisjessejk]

The Family

I have no excuse by this point.

Elrond had been out of the game for six years. He had never even considered going back in, never looked back from his private practice and his quiet life and his lovely absence of physical injuries.

He could feel the itch to find his knives, though, as he watched Elrohir put stitches in Elladan's eyebrow.

Elladan was fine, was the thing. He'd had worse in his years in the underground fight circuit than he was currently suffering. The young Wainrider who'd gotten in a lucky shot hadn't even given him a concussion.

It was just the first time Elrond had seen Elladan hurt, instead of just hearing the report second-hand from Elrohir.

"Good news," Celebrian announced, breezing through the kitchen to the laundry to put the cleaning supplies away. "We got the blood out of the upholstery." Paenvellon trailed her, still looking awkwardly unsure of his place in the household.

Elrond smiled encouragingly at the younger man. That Paenvellon had no ambitions beyond his small dockside empire made Elrond feel better about letting the young smuggler into the normal life he and Celebrian had carved out in Ereinion's absence. For all that he was as brutal as he needed to be and as unscrupulous as anyone in the business, Paen was also as good as it was possible to be in their lives.

Numenorean grains had a higher protein content than anything grown on the continent, and without the upcharge from the import tariffs, a poor family could feed themselves better for longer on the same amount of coin.

"Oh thank god," Elrohir said dryly in answer to Celebrian, breaking Elrond out of his contemplation. Probably for the best, as Paen was starting to fidget under Elrond's blank stare. Elrond smiled gently at him, and his shoulders eased.

"I am so sorry my bleeding headwound is such a great inconvenience to you," Elladan retorted to his brother.

Elrohir, now washing his hands at the sink, stitches complete, blew a raspberry at him. "I get enough blood at work. You don't compensate me adequately to deal with it at home."

"Elladan can't afford your rates," Erestor said dryly, sweeping across the kitchen to put the bags of carryout down by the stove. "You have another appointment with Mrs. S-B tomorrow at nine," he added to Elrond. "She called four minutes to close because her arthritis has flared up again and she's finally willing to consider pain management."

"Thank Christ," Elrond grumbled. "And you." He was always grateful for his Physician Assistant's particular expertise, but never more than on the paperwork side of their practice.

Erestor flashed a grin. "I am exceedingly efficient, yes."

"And you look good in your scrubs," Glorfindel agreed, swinging in behind him on his crutches. Erestor's security consultant husband was perhaps the only upstanding citizen in the family.

Elrond honed in on him. "Crutches," he observed.

"New PT' today," Glorfindel reported. "Stump's sore, but in a good way."

"Oh good," Elrohir said. "She worked out, then?"

"So much better than my last PT," Glorfindel agreed. "Didn't work me till I had a raw spot from the prosthetic, for one."

Elrohir and Elrond made the same annoyed growl.

Glorfindel grinned at them both. "Which is why I now see Eithadis and not that asshole," he said brightly.

Elrond nodded and went to help Celebrian with plates and silverware.

"What'd you bring us?" Elladan asked.

"Pasta bake from the place down from the clinic," Glorfindel said.

"Belladona's," Erestor said, starting to move things into the dining room.

Glorfindel pointed at him.

Legolas relieved Celebrian of the pile of plates and followed Elrond. Alone in the dining room before the rest of the family joined them, he said, sotto voce, "It's taken care of."

Elrond nodded. He trusted Paenvellon not to bring trouble to his doorstep, if only for Elrohir's sake. When Elrohir had gone to paramedic school instead of joining the family business, Elrond and Celebrian had sworn their lives wouldn't interfere in Elrohir's happiness.

Elladan, of course, couldn't and wouldn't be separated from his twin, and Elrohir wouldn't have wanted that either. That Elladan had brought Paenvellon into Elrohir's life had come as a surprise, but Paenvellon was as meticulous at keeping his work separate from Elrohir as Elrond had been.

"You'd tell me, if it was Sauron?" Elrond asked back, just as soft.

"Anything to drink, Las-dear?" Celebrian called.

"Just water for me," Legolas called back, holding Elrond's eyes. "I think I'm driving home." He nodded firmly at Elrond, face unusually serious. He'd been the only one of the younglings—and Elrond absolutely counted the young Galadh brothers who were Elladan's best backup in that collection—actually present when the bloody war between the Red Eyes, the Lorinand Cartel, and the Spears had ended explosively, so he knew what it would mean to Elrond, if Sauron were after his son.

"I gave Adan a painkiller," Elrohir agreed, coming into the dining room with the serving platter of pasta. "And I intend to have so much wine with dinner."

And Paenvellon, of course, had a real actual legal boating license, but could not drive a car.

Legolas smiled at Rohir. "So I will drive," he said again.

Elladan trailed his brother into the dining room, carrying two glasses of water. He let Legolas scoot his chair in for him, and Legolas dropped a kiss on the top of his head before taking his own seat.

Celebrian, Glorfindel, and Paenvellon followed with a salad bowl and the appropriate smaller plates, and Erestor came in last with a cake.

Elrond rolled his eyes.

"Surprise," Erestor said dryly.

Elrond blew a raspberry at his PA. "I said no party."

"No party," Celebrian said warmly. "Just dinner." To be fair, this was positively restrained compared to the galas she'd attended on her father's arm, in the early days of their marriage, when Celeborn had still been in poitics, before Galadriel had turned witness for the DEA, when she had still been a famous starlet and infamous thief (though never at the same time), before their world had come crashing down in a hail of fire and bullets.

Elrond nodded. "Dinner is acceptable."

"And cake," Erestor said firmly, waving it at him before setting it on the sideboard.

Elrond said false-grudgingly, "And cake."

"How do you not like cake?" Glorfindel asked, pouting.

"He likes cake fine," Celebrian said wryly. "It's birthdays he hates."

Elrond shrugged. "Getting older's the pits," he said flatly.

"Beats the alternative," Glorfindel answered.

Elrond, still thinking about Ereinion as he had been all evening, couldn't help but agree.

[sunnyie-eve]

26 | Privacy

Series: Significant

Paring: Colby Brock x Original female character

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.7k

| MASTERLIST |

`

Sam and Colby were filming a truth or strip video out in the hot tub while Penelope was up in her room looking for something. "I swear to god." She heads downstairs going out back to interrupt them. "Hey, Brock! Did you take something of mine because I can't seem to find it. I need kinda need that folder tomorrow for my meeting with important people." She walks over to the hot tub.

"Maybe I did..." He smiles.

"Well where is it? I want to get things ready."

"We're almost done. Now, Sam continue." Colby ignores her as she stands there with her arms crossed.

"Okay, tell me this Mr. Brock, single man. Who's the last person you kissed in the mouth hole?" Sam asks him.

"Well, just for the same privacy reasons, my pantalones are coming off."

"You can't say it." Sam smiles.

"I can't, dude. If I release that private information the other person might get a little pissed off." Colby tells him and Sam had no idea who was the last person Colby kissed.

"I'll find it myself. You boys have fun." Penelope says gonna go to Colby's room to look for it.

"Thank you, Love you!" Sam shouts at her.

"Love you too. Not you Colby." She shouts going inside.

"That's rude." Colby looks at the camera.

Penelope searches Colby's room and couldn't find the folder anywhere, "Okay, I get that he doesn't want the others to find it but come on." She huffs looking around trying to think where else to look.

Lifting the mattress nothing, checking the closet shelves nothing, and under couch cushions nothing. Penelope throws her head back plopping down on the couch waiting for him to come into his room. So when he finally does he laughs at how she still hasn't found it.

"Where the hell did you hide my folder?" She asks him annoyed.

"Close your eyes. I'm not giving up my hiding spot." He tells her so she just does what he tells her to do and he gets the folder for her.

"I hate you." She takes it from him.

"No you don't." He kisses her, "Do you ever have moments where this feels a bit awkward and you forget we're together now?" He stares into her eyes.

"Yeah, I'm still not used to us." She nods her head with a smile, "Now, don't take my stuff." She pats his chest leaving his room. As soon as she walks into her room she sees Sam in there waiting for her, "Can I help you?" She laughs.

"Yes, you can. I wanna do a video with you. Like different parts, Q&A, Truth or Dare, and 2 truths 1 lie." He tells her as she puts her folder away for tomorrow.

"Sure. I don't know why you were waiting in here like a creep." She laughs at him.

"I don't know, I just did." He chuckles as they go to his room and he sets up while she sits on his bed watching him. "You excited for our trip coming up?" He asks to make conversation.

"Yeah, I like going on trips that have you and Colby together. For example, if I wasn't hurt and stuff for the trip to Japan, I wouldn't have gone because you weren't gonna be with Colby." She tells him.

"Aww, I feel loved." He smiles causing her to laugh at him. "What's up guys? Today I'm here with Penelope and we are going to do a few things like Q&A, Truth or Dare, and 2 truths 1 lie. I think this is gonna be fun for us. We know each other very well so hopefully we can come up with things that will stump us." Sam starts.

"I think we can. We don't know every little detail of each others lives so..." Penelope laughs, "So is our Q&A just questions for each other?" She asks him.

"Yeah, die hard questions for each other. Ladies first." He rubs his hands together.

"Damn, okay. What was your first impression of me?" She says the first thing to pop into her mind.

"My first impression of you was that you were really reserved, but I could tell you also had this other side to you with people you were close with. So when we got put together for that project I was happy to get to know you a bit more. Then much more happy when I became friends with Colby since you were best friends with him." Sam answers her, "Okay, this is a good one. If you had to date either Colby or I, who would you choose?" He laughs.

"I can't say you because you're taken so that means by default I would have to date Colby." She smirks.

"That's not... Okay, if I wasn't dating Katrina and the three of us are in High School." He makes it more specific.

"In high school then I would've dated you over Colby. We already had this conversation remember. I said I would've picked you if I knew and not Tyson." She laughs, "Next question; this is just funny honestly. Why do you think Colby doesn't have a girlfriend?" She laughs.

"Why?" He cracks up, "Because he's a scaredy cat with one girl but it's his choice." Sam says honestly, "Do you ever plan on moving out to live alone?" He asks her.

"I mean someday. Hell, we all will. We each have our own lives and when we're much older." She tells him.

"Okay, let's move on to truth or dare. Three rounds so do you want to do dares or lose clothes?" Sam asks her.

"I'm wearing enough to take shit off so I don't care." She tells him.

"Next round guys... Penelope who do you think is the most attractive guy in the house?" He laughs.

"Are you serious? That's your first question for me? I'm taking my sweater off." She shakes her head at him. "Sam, what's one thing you dislike about me?" She smiles.

"Really? I don't have anything though."

"You have to say something." She waits.

"I know you can't just stop it but I dislike how insecure you are even when we tell you don't be." He makes a face.

"That's fair. I agree with you for myself." She tells him.

"Okay, who do you dislike the most in your family?"

"Richard." She answers quickly, "So does Harper and Colby. I don't care." She shrugs.

"Me too." Sam agrees.

"Richard is my stepfather just so you guys know." She makes clear, "Sammy boy, what's one thing you would change about Kat?" She laughs.

"Well, goodbye shirt." Sam takes it off, "I wouldn't change a thing about my girlfriend. She's perfect the way she is." He smiles, "Penelope, I'm not gonna be nice on this last one. Who's the best kisser out of all the guys you've ever kissed?"

Penelope glares at him, "Not Tyson I'll say that." She takes her top off leaving her in a lace cami bralette. "He kissed like he was trying to swallow your face."

"I can only picture that now." Sam laughs making her slap him, "I can imagine who the best was." He smirks making her grab his pillow to slap him with it. "Just give me my last question."

"Okay..." She thinks so Sam just smiles at her, "What girl do you find attractive in your entire friend group excluding your girlfriend." She smiles back.

"I don't wanna be left in my boxers so..." Sam sighs.

"How will Kat feel?"

"She would agree with me and that's why I say you. Plus you're a model and you're a natural when I see what comes out." He answers her then they continue to the next round.

"Okay, 2 truths and 1 lie... Gotta think of things you don't know about me. Okay, my favorite time of year is Halloween, my favorite color is yellow, and my favorite person in the house is Aaron." Penelope gives Sam three things.

"I thought it was Christmas, I'm not sure about yellow, and you prefer Aaron over Colby or I. I'm Not sure about that last one though. I know you prefer him at times but I think that's the lie." He locks in his answers.

"No, I hate yellow. I prefer Aaron because he gives me space compared to everyone else." She laughs.

"You were my first kiss but I lied my whole life about it, me and my family are super competitive, and I prefer you over Colby."

"That's the lie. No way you prefer me over Colby." She laughs.

"That's correct." He rolls his eyes.

"I've seen my dad twice after he passed away, I'm in a secret relationship at the moment, and I'm allergic to shellfish."

"I've never see you eat any shellfish. I think o would know if you were in a secret relationship. And do you mean like ghost?" Sam asks confused.

"Yeah." She nods her head.

"You know me and being skeptical but I believe you. I'm gonna say you're not in a secret relationship. That's my answer." Sam sighs.

"Nope, I'm not allergic to shellfish. And no, you're not allowed to know who I'm seeing. Nobody in the house knows." She smiles.

"Last one. If Kat and I were to break up you'd be first to know, I have a favorite sibling, and I like your mom more the Colby's mom."

Penelope thinks for a second, "I don't think you have a favorite sibling."

"So you a hundred percent believe I like your mom more than Colby's" Sam chuckles.

"Yeah, everyone loves my mom."

"You were right. I hate you can pick out the lie. Okay, that's all for today. Thank you guys for watching. Make sure to like, comment and subscribe. See you next time." Sam ends the video.

"Okay, now tell me who you are seeing." He crosses his arms.

"No, we don't want to be public right now. He doesn't want to be shown." She slightly lies.

"Colby!" Sam goes across the hall, "Did you know Penelope is in a secret relationship?"

Colby looks at Penelope behind Sam, "Umm no I didn't but why are you shirtless and you're in a bra?" Colby points out.

"Oh, we were doing a video and truth or strip was part of it with other little games." Sam explains not caring.

"Okay, but back to the dating... You're seeing someone?" Colby plays along.

"Yes, I am but no you guys aren't going to get anything out of me. He/ we want to be private. Plus I don't want you scaring him away." Penelope looks at Colby.

"That's a fair point." Sam leaves the room while the secret couple smile at each other.

[tia-amorosa]

Sunset Died - Michael & Peter

Trip for two (Part 3)

Cutting down trees is often a great way to vent frustration. This is how Michael copes with his grief over his parents. He thinks about the past and also about the future… Perhaps Peter will be a good partner for him… But first he would like to get to know everything new even better.

Michael came back with a big load of firewood. "Oh crap, now I've dropped something…" / "Don't move, otherwise you'll really fall on your face and I'll have to take you home before our trip has really started" / "Oh man, thanks, I shouldn't have carried so much…".

The boys found the odd tree stump in the area. Witnesses to the time when people gathered wood to rebuild their houses. "Xander probably thinks I'll make a fire with a piece of wood and a branch, zz"/ "I still had the lighter from my dad"/ "yeah, it's much easier.". A old blanket was placed in front of the tent so that they wouldn't walk in with dirty feet.

When the work was done, they sat down together around the campfire. Michael looked into the flames for a few minutes while Peter watched him. At some point, Michael noticed and gave him a smile. "Thanks…"/ "For what?"/ "That you're doing this with me… I don't think Ethan felt like doing it, he's rather be at home all the time helping his mother with organizational things". Peter poked at the firewood for a moment and smiled back. "I promised you."

"I hope you didn't just come here out of pity for me…"/ "Bullshit, Micha, I'm here because I want to be here, okay? Man, our house is gone and we more or less live in a bunker with only one room above it, where we spend most of our time, at least when we're at home… And it's really boring…"/ "I can imagine. I'd rather have my own room again too".

"Wouldn't you have the space for it upstairs?"/ "No, not really. It couldn't be rebuilt according to the original floor plan. You had to rebuild everything provisionally… But one day… I want to build my own house. It doesn't have to be huge, but… I want to be able to say I've done it, it's mine"/ "I can understand that."

"I think I'll do it that way too" / "well, we could… do it together". Michael didn't look at him, but had his eyes fixed on the flames again. It was almost as if he was afraid of the answer. "O.k., why not"/ "yes? I mean… O.k…."/ "hnhn. School's about to start again here, what do you think about it?"

Michael shrugged his shoulders. "In principle, a good thing… At least for the younger ones…"/ "hehe, you quickly get used to not having any more lessons, don't you? But hey, at least it gives us a chance to graduate after all"/ "and who's going to teach us for the last year?"/ "Rumor has it that it's either Mrs. Landgraab or her husband"/ "fff, no thanks, neither one, they're not good teachers"

"No, that's true. And if you could choose, who would teach us?". Michael shrugged his shoulders again. " I don't care, I can actually do without a certificate. .There is no one left who could be proud of me…."/ "hey, that's not true.". Michael looked down sadly for a moment, because now he was thinking about his mother again, who would probably have been bursting with pride if her son had come home with a good certificate. He shook himself a little and rubbed his arms…. "Are you cold?"/ "A little…".

Peter went to his backpack and took out the warm jackets. These were also both his, so he could confidently hand over the second one. "It's a bit lined, I hope you get warm quickly"/ "hnhn, you look after me like I'm a child"/ "is that what you think? Hey, I just want you to be okay, ok?". Michael sighed a little as he looked at him "h-hh, I know… thanks"/ "didn't you want to catch a rabbit?"/ "Tomorrow morning, not today".

"Besides, what do you mean you wouldn't make anyone proud? I think it would be great if the two of us could at least hold something like a certificate in our hands. Then we could leave here and start again somewhere else"/ "would you really leave with me? You know I won't leave my sister alone"/ "then we'll wait until she's 18, OK?"/ "hnhn… OK. But now I'm hungry". Peter grinned and hugged him tightly again. Gradually, Michael got used to these loving touches, they made him feel safe.

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

End of this Part

@greenplumbboblover🌞

[spirallingstarcases]

personally i think ur allowed to list patrick stump and patrick stumph as separate ppl on the top 5. love & light <3

ur so right

this is patrick stump ⬇️

and this is patrick stumph ⬇️

and i’d top both of them

[oh-shinx]

⚡BZZT BZZT! THE FOLLOWING FOOTAGE HAS AS BEEN BROUGHT TO YOU USING AUTO-ROTO-FILM! [Auto-Roto-Film and it's affiliates are not responsible for accidental shared recordings.] BZZT BZZT!⚡

Révolution.mp4

⚡VIDEO DESCRIPTION!⚡

The camera opens following behind Rosie at a very public market street in Laverre. She taps on the shoulders of two noticeably exhausted people in their forties, the Gagnon parents. Anger briefly flashes on both of their faces before they try to bring back composure.

Mr Gagnon starts hissing. "Au nom de la distorsion, qu'est-ce que tu penses faire, Lu-"

Rosie immediately turns to the camera and, in her usual strong Kalosian accent and a volume that actually matches her exclamation marks for once, cuts the grown man out.

"Bonjour!!!!!! Hello world!!!!!!!!!!!!! My name is Roserade DesViolettes, formerly Sidérella Gagnon, and I am coming to you live with proof that I am not dead!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What do you have to say to that, mother and father??? Use your words, Galarian style!!!!!! It is how best to spread the word, correct????"

The Gagnons are stumped. The matriarch tries to save it with "We never had an eldest daughter."

"Oh, you did!!!!!! You know you did!!!!!!!!!! And what happened when you found out??? Take a look at this!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Rosie takes off her jacket, revealing her back from the dress she is wearing. A massive scar that's obviously tried to heal but never has is revealed.

"I asked you to call me Sidérella then!!!!!!!!! I remember now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And now, I face chronic pain from this and many other mistreatments!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

There is a crowd starting to gather.

"So tell me, did you really have a son??? Did you really raise an oddly mature boy just to break him more than you already had???? Or is there a woman in front of you?????"

.......

After a moment of silence, Antoine turns to violence, only for his hand to be met by Rosie's. "What do you want from me, you freak of nature?" He says through grit teeth.

"I will make you a deal," Rosie grins, but takes a more serious tone, "If you drop out of every political race, I will take an issue off of you both. I do get to choose what issue, though. Otherwise, I take this recording to court and it becomes much harder for you to have any respect."

The parents are baffled. There's an obvious choice here. "Fine," grumbles Antoine, "I will drop out of all runnings, honour of Xerneas at stake."

"....... Care to shake on it????" Rosie reaches hands to both, which they both take.

Thundering magic pulses through the market. Rosie starts glowing pink.

"I make this deal. In return for you being unable to enter a political position, I shall take custody over Luminéon Gagnon."

The two pricks go slack jawed at that, but it's too late, as Rosie says:

"Such is life, ever in the eyes of Xerneas."

And with that, the deal is set.

"You- you cannot do that... She's our property..." Claims the patriarch.

"Actually, issue can mean child, looking at a Galarian law dictionary. Thank you for playing along with this language!!!!!! See you in court to finalise this, and I will get the stuff of Lumi later today!!!!!!!!!!!! Bye!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

The camera turns off.

[steven1123x]

A Half-Gem Boy’s Adventures In The Creek; Chapter two

🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳

A portal opened up by their new house, A pink lion jumped out carrying a brown-skinned girl with black eyes, she wore a white polo shirt and gray jean shorts, she also wore white Converse. The girl dismounted from the lion and petted him, Lion looked at the girl, yawned, and fell asleep.

The girl — Connie Maheswaran looked at her phone, she got the right address. She saw that Greg's van was parked in the driveway, Connie then knocked on the door.

Steven was playing his GameCube in the living room, he was playing Super Smash Bros with his dad.

“Beat you again!” Steven said, Greg smiled as he ruffled his fluffy hair. A knock was heard again, Steven got up, ran to the door, and opened it. He froze when he saw his friend standing there, the Lion in the background now chasing a butterfly.

“Connie!” Steven said as he hugged her, Connie hugged the boy back and smiled.

“Steven!” she smiled, then broke the hug, they held hands for a few seconds and let go. “Connie…” he said, trying to find words. “W-What are you doing here? I thought you were training or something!”

Connie moved some of her hair out of her eye and smiled. “Well, I asked Pearl to take the day off today, so I decided to go to Maryland on Lion,” she said, Steven smiled, he wanted to jump for joy at that moment! Steven had missed his best friend, Steven grinned, and then A long-haired man in a tank top and shorts walked up, and he had a smile on his face.

“Hi, Mr. Universe!” Greg waved.

“Aren’t you supposed to be heading out to the Creek, kiddo?” Greg asks.

Connie was now interested, she talked with Steven about the Creek over the phone but she had never seen it in person, she wanted to meet all of Steven’s new friends he’d made over the last two days coming here.

“Let’s go!” Steven said Connie and Steven went out of the house, Steven got on Lion’s back, and So did Connie. Steven guides Lion to the Creek, Connie’s eyes widen as she sees a forest filled with trees and well — A creek. They stopped at The Traiding Tree where Kit was trading snacks and other things to kids.

“Steven….” she breathed, not believing what she was seeing. There were kids of all shapes sizes and ages. Connie dismounted and walked to The Trading Tree following Steven.

“Hey, Steven!” Kit smiled. Steven smiled and waved, he got two items out of his pocket — A topper toy that he’d got at the bottom of a cereal box, and a small toy truck he’d found at the creek.

“Alright, Steven. What would you like?”

“Do you have Cookie Cats?” Steven asked. They’d stopped making them in Beach City, but he wondered if they had them here.

“Yes, I do!” Kit said, Steven’s eyes lit up as she opened the cooler and grabbed two packs of Cookie Cats. Steven thought he was dreaming when he saw the ice cream sandwich-shaped cat in his hands. Steven handed the other one to Connie. Steven opened the wrapping and took a bite.

“This is SO GOOD!” he yelled out. Then Steven sang his cookie-cat song.

"Oh, he's a frozen treat with an all-new taste

'Cause he came to this planet from outer space

A refugee of an interstellar war

But now he's at your local grocery store

Cookie Cat

He's a pet for your tummy

Cookie Cat

He's super duper yummy

Cookie Cat

He left his family behind

Cookie Cat!”

Kit and Connie both laugh as Steven eats more of his ice cream. Its strawberry and vanilla flavor with the chocolate sandwich cookies was just perfect. Steven ate his Cookie Cat, and Connie did as well. Steven and Connie then went to The Stump so she could meet Craig and the rest of his friends.

“Hey guys! Meet my friend from Beach City, Connie!” Craig smiled and waved.

“Hey, Connie!” Craig said.

“Good day, Connie!” Kelsey said, sharpening her ‘sword’

“Hi, I’m JP!” the boy in the large T-shirt said.

Lion walks up to them, Craig gasps and smiles. “Is that Lion!” he asked excitedly. Connie and Steven both nod, Craig amiled.

“Welcome to the Creek, Connie and Lion!” JP said, walking up to Lion, and petting his pink mane. Craig was concerned. Steven saw him. “Don’t worry, Craig. Lion is nice, he won’t bite you guys, JP is petting him," he said

Craig walked over to Lion put a hand up to his mane and petted him, Craig smiled as Lion looked with a blank stare on his face, he then licked Steven, and Steven laughed and hugged him. Craig did feel much more comfortable now that Steven was doing it. Craig went towards him and petted his mane.

“He’s so soft…” JP said. Kelsey nods.

🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳

Steven, Craig, JP, Kelsey, Omar, and Connie were all on the Other Side Of The Creek, Connie stared at a large tree that said 'The Candy Bar.’ written in cursive. Steven and his friends went in, Lion was about to go in but Steven petted him. “Lion, you can’t go in. I don’t know how Raj and Sawn feel about animals in here.”

Lion just looked at him, went down, and rested his paws on his chin. Steven smiles and pets him. They go inside. Connie saw that an electric guitar was placed with a drum set, piano, and microphone.

“Hey, Raj!” Steven said.

“Hey, Steven! Are you going to sign up for the Candy Bar Concert?” Steven smiled, he walked to the bar and picked up the clipboard, attached to it was a pencil, and he wrote his name down. Craig went next, then JP. Kelsey, Connie, and Omar were left and they put their names down. Then the songs that they were going to pick.

Steven, Craig, and JP were going to do a song, then Omar, Kelsey, and Connie. Steven looks at Raj and asks him to give him some water. “When is this concert starting?” Steven asked.

Raj smiled, cleaning a glass. “It’s going to start in a few minutes. Sit and have something to drink.” Steven nodded as Raj handed him a glass.

“Thanks, Raj,” he said, Raj smiled. Connie looked at Steven as he drank his cup and ate his candy.

Just then, Shawn walked up to the microphone and started talking into it. “Kids of the creek! we would love to announce. Our first-ever concert here at the Candy Bar! And the first ones to come up are Craig, JP, and Steven!” the boy said.

They were all on different instruments, Craig was on drums, JP and Steven were on guitar, and Steven was in front of a microphone.

“Go, Steven!” Connie said, smiling. Steven, Craig, and JP start playing the song.

"…Hey, Miss Murder, can I? (Hey!)

Hey, Miss Murder, can I? (Hey!)

Make beauty stay if I take my life? (Hey!)

Woah-oh-oh

… With just a look, they shook

And heavens bowed before him

Simply a look can break your heart

… The stars that pierce the sky

He left them all behind

We're left to wonder why

He left us all behind

… Hey, Miss Murder, can I? (Hey!)

Hey, Miss Murder, can I? (Hey!)

Make beauty stay if I take my life? (Hey!)

Woah-oh-oh

… Dreams of his crash won't pass

Oh, how they all adored him

Beauty will last when spiraled down

… The stars that mystified

He left them all behind

And how his children cried

He left us all behind

… Hey Miss Murder, can I? (Hey!)

Hey Miss Murder, can I? (Hey!)

Make beauty stay if I take my life? (Hey!)

Woah-oh-oh

… What's the hook, the twist within this verbose mystery?

I would gladly bet my life upon it

That the ghost you love, your ray of light

Will fizzle out without hope

… We're the empty set just floating through

Wrapped in skin

Ever searching for what we were promised

Reaching for that golden ring, we'd never let go

Who would ever let us put our filthy hands upon it?

… Hey, Miss Murder, can I? (Hey!)

Hey, Miss Murder, can I? (Hey!)

Make beauty stay if I take my life? (Hey!)

Woah-oh

… Hey, Miss Murder, can I? (Hey!)

Hey, Miss Murder, can I? (Hey!)

Make beauty stay if I take my life? (Hey!)

Woah-oh”

Raj smiled and walked up to the stage once more as Steven and JP both put the guitars down on the guitar mounts and walked off, Connie hugged Steven. “Have fun, Connie.”

“Thanks, Steven,” she said.

“Let me introduce you to the stage, Kelsey, Connie, and Omar!” Connie picked up the guitar and strapped it on, Kelsey did the same. JP sat at the drum set and picked up the sticks. Omar walked up to the microphone and they started to play.

"I got your picture, I'm coming with you

Dear Maria, count me in

There's a story at the bottom of this bottle

And I'm the pen

When the lights go off

I wanna watch the way you take the stage by storm

The way you wrap those boys around your finger

Go on and play the leader

'Cause you know it's what you're good at

The low road for the fast track

Make every second last

'Cause I got your picture, I'm coming with you

Dear Maria, count me in

There's a story at the bottom of this bottle

And I'm the pen

Make it count

When I'm the one who's selling you out

'Cause it feels like stealing hearts

Calling your name from the crowd

Doesn't that mean you'll be the showgirl of the home team

I'll be the narrator

Telling another tale of the American dream

I see your name in the lights

We could make you a star

Girl, we'll take the world by storm

It isn't that hard

'Cause I got your picture, I'm coming with you

Dear Maria, count me in

There's a story at the bottom of this bottle

And I'm the pen

Make it count

When I'm the one who's selling you out

'Cause it feels like stealing hearts

Calling your name from the crowd, whoa

Ha, ha

Take a breath, don't it sound so easy?

Never had a doubt, now I'm going crazy

Watching from the floor

Take a breath and let the rest come easy

Never settle down 'cause the cash flow leaves me

Always wanting more

'Cause I got your picture, I'm coming with you

Dear Maria, count me in

There's a story at the bottom of this bottle

And I'm the pen

Make it count

When I'm the one who's selling you out

'Cause it feels like stealing hearts

Calling your name from the crowd

'Cause I got your picture, I'm coming with you

Dear Maria, count me in

There's a story at the bottom of this bottle.”

The kids cheered for them, Steven took a video on his phone and then sent it to Pearl. Pearl texted him back, saying that this was amazing. Steven smiled and wiped some tears from his eyes.

Connie ran off stage and hugged her best friend. “That was so good, Connie!”

“I liked yours too, Steven!”

Steven smiles.

🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳

Steven, Connie, Craig, Kelsey, JP, and Omar were all hanging out again. Connie didn’t have to go on missions with the gems so she was able to hang out with Steven and his friends at the creek all week — or maybe the whole summer if Pearl allowed it.

Connie, Craig, Kelsey, JP, Omar, and Connie all went back to Steven’s house. they were going to play on Steven’s GameCube in the living room. Steven gave Connie a house tour. When they got to the living room Connie saw his mom’s portrait hanging on the wall. “Steven, isn’t that the picture of your mom?”

Steven nodded.

“Yeah, why?”

“It looks nice hanging up in your house,” she said. Steven smiles.

“Thanks.”

“Okay guys, what games should we play?” Steven asked, picking up the controller and a handful of games.

“Sonic! I want to go first!” Said Craig. Steven handed him the controller, selected it to the right input and they played a game of Sonic The Hedgehog together.

🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳⭐️💎🌳

A/N: Hi guys! thank you for reading part one of this fic! Here is part two. I am going to work on part three as soon as possible, and how did you like Connie meeting the creek kids, i think it was a lot of fun to write! Well, see you in the next one!

[sirowsky-stories]

The Flowers Always Know

Chapter 9 - Spaghetti Fixes Everything

Description: Working at HQ wasn't just challenging, it was threatening to completely burn you out after just the first few days. Of course, it didn't help that you were so stressed you forgot to eat most days.

**Beware! Author chooses NOT to display warnings on the individual chapters of this story. Read at your own risk!**

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Word Count: 4657 (1649 words added) Masterlist (this story)

   The weeks passed way too quickly after that.    You couldn’t understand how the clock reached 8pm so damned fast every day, you never seemed to be even halfway done with your tasks, even though you arrived a half-hour early and worked at least three hours late every single day, including weekends.    As if you’d been dropped into a black hole, and time had gotten warped, no matter how many hours of work you put in, it never seemed to add up to anything.

   You’d quickly learned two things on your first day. One, that your predecessor had left so abruptly he hadn’t even cleaned out his little wardrobe. And two, he had not kept his house in anything resembling order.    How the man had been able to get anything done, at all, astounded you. There was no order or structure to be found in his wake, and when you’d complained about it to Mrs. Moreno a couple of days later, she’d completely stumped you by saying:

   “Yes, well, now you understand why I wanted you to take it.”

   You’d sort of frozen in place right in the middle of transferring a file from one stack to another, with the shock of realizing she’d actually paid you a sideways compliment, but then she’d immediately ruined the moment by adding:

   “So, stop dilly-dallying and get that mess sorted out already.”

   You’d felt a lot less guilty about calling her horrid, then.    That was about two weeks ago. Or was it three?    Shit, what day was it now? You genuinely had no idea.

   Marcus had tried to stay in touch with you, popping his head in whenever he passed by your office, and calling or texting if he hadn’t found or seen you in too long.    While he was technically still working in the field, he didn’t go on every mission, electing to oversee and direct things from the control centre instead. So, most days he was just a few floors and corridors away.

   But you just never had the time to actually talk to him. When he stopped by, you were almost always heading out, or on the phone, or in a meeting. And while you always answered his calls and texts, the replies were short and mostly just apologetic.    And since you always worked late, and got up extra early, there wasn’t really any free time to just hang out either.

   In short, thus far, you were not very happy with your job.

   But today had been the worst one yet. You’d been in meetings all day, not even having enough time to squeeze in a tea-break in between, much less lunch.    You’d also managed to piss off two reporters, damned near broken your toe when you’d bumped into a railing, walked straight into a poor assistant on his way to deliver a bunch of documents to someone, sending them flying across the hallway, and just when you’d given up and decided to call it a day, the fucking phone rang.

   You had just gotten out of the chair and put your jacket on. Ten more seconds and you would’ve been close enough to leaving that you wouldn’t have bothered to answer the damned thing. But you did.    And to put the cherry on top of this disaster of a day, the person calling was a designer friend of yours who you’d reached out to for help on a project involving the supers’ children.

   He was calling to let you know that unfortunately, despite already being a week into it, he wouldn’t be able to do it. There’d been a family emergency, and he had to pull out. Which effectively meant you’d have to start over.    And of course, that project was the one thing with a deadline which simply could not be pushed. Andy had been your first choice to help you with this, and you’d been so thrilled when he’d agreed, because you knew he’d understand what you were looking for.

   You’d been tasked with creating something like a gym-hall for the powered kids at the local schools, because they needed physical exercise as much as the next kid, but they could so easily hurt the normal children. But of course, the budget wasn’t great, and Management wanted you to do as much as you could with existing buildings and materials.    And that’s where Andy had sprung to mind, because he was a genius when it came to material and repurposing.

   But this was also why you were now in serious trouble, since no one could do what his mind was capable of, and Management was expecting your proposal within the next week.    The clock was already after 6pm when you got the call, and since you’d gotten used to working until eight or nine, you decided you might as well get started on trying to salvage this right away, rather than go home and still not be able to sleep because you’d be stressing over it.

   You took off your jacket and sat back down with a heavy sigh, then reached into your desk to retrieve the project file.    It was thick and heavy and slammed down on top of your desk with a thud. You opened it to the first page and started to look over what would have to be scrapped, and what could possibly still be utilized, already knowing you weren’t gonna be out of the office until past your bedtime, with such a thick folder to get through.

   So, hunched over your desk, leaning on your elbows with your head resting against one palm, tired, starving and completely engrossed in the papers in front of you, you never heard the light knock on the door, or when it clicked open and then closed again.    You didn’t notice the slight ruffle of clothes, or the presence of another person in your space, you just wanted to get this done so you could go home and crash.

   But you did notice the warmth of his arms as they came around you from behind and pulled your back into his chest and didn’t let you go again. You noticed his breath on your neck before he kissed it, slowly and ever so softly.    You noticed when he pulled you up and out of the chair and turned you around so that he could hug you properly.

   The file and the problems which were stacked a mile high on your shoulders, all disappeared when he brushed his lips against yours and that heat instantly flared somewhere in your chest and abdomen.    You made no attempt to control yourself, at all, letting your exhausted body decide for itself what it wanted right then, resulting in what you could only describe as another attack.

   The heat surged through you until every single inch of you felt red hot. You kissed him with every bit of passion and desire you were capable of, while your hands made their way to his belt and tugged his hips closer.    And he responded in kind, lifting you up on your desk and parting your legs with lightly quivering hands. You were wearing a skirt today and he pushed the fabric back all the way to your groin, before settling himself flush against you, letting you feel his arousal.  

   And damn, did he feel good.

   He broke the kiss to allow you both to breathe, and nuzzled into your neck, but when he felt you flex your hips against him, he growled and lightly bit your shoulder as his hands started squeezing and massaging their way along the outsides of your thighs.

   “Hermosa… if we keep this up for much longer, I don’t know if I can uphold my promise to take things slow,” he cautioned, with an unexpectedly feral vibration to his voice.

   “Mmh… You started this,” you retorted, receiving another growl as you ran your tongue along his jawline, tracing back towards his mouth to kiss him again.

   “Sweetheart…” he tried again, after very reluctantly pulling away from your lips, “Either ask me to stop now, or this office will be christened in bodily fluids in a moment.”

   For a few seconds, you were confused, because surely, you’d somehow been transported to a bedroom by now. That was where your head was at…    But no. A quick glance around revealed the mental image to be fake, and the dull cappuccino-coloured walls and sound absorbent ceiling to be the reality you were still mercilessly trapped in.    And that killed the mood like sand poured over a campfire.

   “Okay. Stop,” you grumbled, disappointed to have to leave the fantasy.

   He instantly pulled back and loosened his grip on you, but kept his hands on your thighs, and your hips close together, possibly to hide his very obvious erection from anyone happening to walk in. Like Anita…    For a minute, you just looked at each other’s blown pupils while trying to calm your breathing down, then he smiled.

   “Hi. How was your day?” he politely inquired, trying to distract himself most likely, but he couldn’t have chosen a worse question.

   “Ugh… If you ever need to quell my desires, trust me, that’s all you need to say.”

   And you weren’t kidding. The frustration, exhaustion, stress and general feeling of inadequacy slammed down on you like a concrete slab, and suddenly you felt impossibly heavy.    He noticed the shift in your energy and took his hands off your thighs, snaking them around your waist instead. He stared intently at you for a beat, and you could almost see his mind working to try and figure out which level of exhaustion would lead you to say that.

   “Oh, preciosa. You’re trying too hard. Ask for help, delegate, don’t try to do it all by yourself.”

   “I do delegate, Marcus. Fuck, some days all I do is delegate!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands in the air with hopelessness. “But that asshole, Turner, left behind a bigger mess than anyone even realized, so no matter how much I get done, there’s always another fifty problems left.    And now Andy bailed on me, which means I have to start all over again on the schools, which of course has the shortest deadline of everything I’m working on, and which was the one thing I thought was handled.    I really don’t know what more I can do?”

   You sagged against him, resting your forehead on his chest, wanting so badly to cry but you were somehow too spent even for that.

   “I can’t do this. I’m so tired,” you whimpered, and he started softly running his hands over your back again.

   “Why do you think I have sofas in my office? Naps are your friend, my dear,” he hummed, but you scoffed at that.

   “I haven’t even had time to eat today, when exactly am I supposed to-…”

   “What do you mean, you haven’t eaten?” he cut you off with a dead serious look and his voice was suddenly sharp against the quiet of the room. “Since when?”

   Taken aback by his sudden shift in temperament, it took you moment to remember you were supposed to reply, and then you had to try and recall when exactly you’d last eaten something.

   “Uh… Yesterday, around 7pm, I think. I ordered something. No wait, that was the day before…” you fumbled, genuinely unable to remember, and the Heroic was apparently most displeased with this.

   “Ne creo en mis oidos…” he said, in a tone you interpreted to be incredulous.

   You had no idea what the phrase meant, but he sounded almost angry as he untangled himself from your legs and reached for your jacket.    Sitting there on your desk, you couldn’t help but shrink a little at the thought that he was probably angry with you, even if you didn’t understand why. And you were so exhausted that even such a small thing was enough to make you want to run away, when you would have normally just challenged him.

   “Come on, hop off the desk, you’re coming with me,” he declared then, holding the jacket out for you so you could just slip your arms into it once you were off the table.

   “I can’t just leave all th-…”

   “Sweetheart, I admire your loyalty to your work,” he brusquely cut you off, “but get your ass off that desk right now.”

   Not even bothering to ask why or where you were going, you simply did what you were told, and he slipped the jacket on you and led you out of the building, having to help you stay upright by keeping an arm around your waist the whole way to his car.    You dozed in and out of sleep as the vehicle hummed its way along the roads, having no idea where he was taking you. But at some point, you must have fallen asleep for real, because you woke up to the passenger side door opening, and him reaching over to unbuckle you.

   “Hey, we’re here. Come on,” he beckoned, and when you looked out in front of the car, you saw a house which wasn’t yours, but didn’t think any more of it as you forced yourself to get out of the car and let Marcus drag you to the front door.

   “Hey, dad. You’re late,” a voice called out as soon as you stepped inside.

   “Hey, sweetie. I know, I’m sorry, but I had to help a friend,” he answered just as the person the voice belonged to came skipping into the front hall.

   Oh… His house, of course. Where else would he go at the end of the day?    His daughter. Possibly the most adorable human being you’d ever seen. If only you’d had the strength to greet her as politely and warmly as she did you.

   “Welcome to Casa Moreno. You’re the first woman my dad has ever brought here, I’m very impressed,” she smiled and winked at you, and you so wished you could’ve played along.

   “Missy,” her father cautioned, but half-heartedly at best, and his daughter knew it.

   “What?” she countered, sounding innocent but defiantly crossing her arms, daring him to try and deter her from enjoying what was apparently a rare moment for these two.

   “She’s exhausted, and I’m pretty sure she hasn’t eaten in anything between twenty-four to forty-eight hours, so just be nice, please.”

   “I am being nice; it was a compliment,” Missy tried to deflect, feigning absolute innocence, but it got her nowhere.

   “Don’t even try that with me, young padawan. Go set the table,” he ordered, before following her into the kitchen where he raided the fridge for leftover spaghetti and meatballs.

   You couldn’t help but smile at them as they continued bantering while they worked. But you got so lost in their lovable conversation that you didn’t even remember to ask if you were invited to sit down, and after a minute, the room started getting darker. Which was odd because the sun had already set, hadn’t it?    Still, it kept getting darker, until you realized it was all in your head. But by then you were already falling.

   You woke up to an extremely worried Marcus fidgeting with wet towels and… Was that a blood-pressure machine?    Then, out of nowhere, you suddenly felt completely panicked. You practically bounced up to sitting on what was apparently their living-room sofa, and immediately scrambled yourself into a tiny ball in the furthest corner of it.    Your entire body was shaking with fear, but you had no idea why.

   “Dad… What’s wrong with her?” Missy whispered from the other end of the sofa, and she sounded so worried.

   “It’s okay, sweetie, she’s just scared,” he tried to reassure her, but she was a smart girl, and this had apparently truly rattled her.

   “Of what? She was fine a minute ago.”

   “I’ll explain later,” he said, meeting her eyes so she’d know he meant it, but also using the moment to move back and give you more room before he tried to reach past your fears. “It’s okay. I promise you’re safe. You’re not trapped, you can move, you can talk, you’re not lost in the darkness.    You’re right here… with me.”

   His honey-soft voice soothed you, making you wonder how he could know exactly what to say to help you?    How did he know it was the darkness that had scared you? You hadn’t even realized it yourself until he’d said it.    At those last two words, his current came flowing through you, and it was like a balm, moving through your nerves, coaxing them to relax.

   “Hermosa,” he finally whispered, not with expectation or pressure, but as though the word was an invitation for you to have a safe haven within him.

   Willing your body to move again, you crawled towards him, and he helped you by meeting you halfway and then hugging you so tightly.

   “It’s okay, hermosa. You’re safe, I promise,” he mumbled into your cheek, and you tried to stop yourself from shaking but it didn’t work.

   “I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened,” you cried, still too tired for the massive cry that was still clawing around inside your chest, looking for a way out.

   “You just got lost. We all do sometimes.”

   “What’s wrong with me?” you asked, your voice breaking with too many emotions to name.

   But Marcus pulled back to look at you then, and there was something very reassuring about how much he seemed to believe in what he said next.

   “How many times do I have to tell you, sweetheart? Surviving what you did was impossible. Did you really think something like that wouldn’t stay with you?    There’s nothing wrong with you. Being afraid of things that have seriously hurt you isn’t wrong, it’s wise. You were trapped in darkness for a long time, feeling helpless and weak. It’s only natural for you to be scared when faced with those same sensations again.”

   There was nothing wrong with his logic, you just couldn’t understand where the depth of his insight was coming from.

   “But… how did you know that that’s what I was feeling?”

   “I was with you all the way, remember? I saw every stage of your recovery. Every hurdle, every obstacle, and every victory, big and small. I know you,” he said, shifting one hand up to your face to catch the tears as they finally began to fall.

   If you’d had a crush on him before, you were now certain that you absolutely loved this man. And you really wanted to tell him about it, but perhaps not in front of his daughter, still standing by the end of the sofa, when he clearly hadn’t told her about you yet.    Not that there was much to tell, it wasn’t like you’d even been on a single date yet, you’d just… made out.    You sighed and closed your eyes, leaning your cheek into the comforting warmth of his palm. This really had been a terrible fucking day.

   “Hey, you still have to eat something, or you’re gonna collapse again,” he gently reminded you, while beginning to rise.

   You let him help you to your feet and over to the kitchen where he sat you down at the table before getting back to re-heating the leftovers.    Having fully expected Missy to keep a safe distance after watching you have a breakdown, you were quite surprised when she brazenly came to sit next to you instead, plopping down in her chair as though this had been the most normal, inconsequential evening ever.

   “So, you’re the one,” she pondered, but with that cleverness children had to their tone when they were equal parts curious and sure about what they already knew.

   “Huh?” was all you responded, confused by the notion that she would know anything about you.

   “The one the mad scientist… hurt,” she elaborated, and it sounded like that little pause was her catching herself before saying something else.

   It made you wonder how much she might understand about what had been done to you, and whether what she’d been about to say might’ve been something like “tortured” or “killed”, either of which would’ve been technically accurate, but perhaps harsher to hear.    The mere fact she’d stopped herself said a lot about her maturity and sensitivity towards others, and it softened something inside your chest as you listened to her continue to explain.

   “Dad wouldn’t tell me too much about it, but I read some articles and I saw a few of the news reels,” she confessed, quietly, in the hopes her father wouldn’t overhear and scold her for circumventing his efforts to protect her from the horror of it. “And he did tell me how you were so sick no one knew if you’d ever wake up. And then when you did, he said he needed to help you because he seemed to be the only one who could.    He wasn’t home much for those few months.”

   She finished on a thoughtful note, but it made you terribly sad and regretful.    You’d known that Marcus had needed Anita’s help to look after her while he’d helped you, but you’d had no clue of how extensively he’d been absent. Now that you thought about it, though, you could remember countless evenings of his diligent efforts, never hesitating to keep working well past his regular hours if he felt it was needed.    All for you. Which made it feel like your fault.

   “Oh… Missy, I’m sorry.”

   “No, no, that’s not what I meant!” she hurried to correct you, and you felt like it was important to her that you understood this. “It’s not your fault, of course it isn’t.    What I’m trying to say is, I’m really glad all his efforts helped you in the end. Cause dad… Well, he was so sad all the time you were in the coma, until he started being able to help you, and then it was like… he came alive too.    It means a lot to him, you know. That you made it.”

   Her father had his back to the two of you, while he worked on the leftovers, so you couldn’t see his face. But you were close enough that he should’ve heard most of this conversation, and something about the stillness of his movements told you he had, and that it was probably affecting him deeply.

   “I couldn’t have done it without him,” you replied, a little louder to be sure he heard it, before turning your full attention back to his daughter. “And I’m sorry you had to see me freak out like that before. I’m not normally this… fragile.”

   “It’s okay. We’re all allowed to have bad days, right?” she chirped, and you chuckled, but entirely without humour.

   “Yep. I just wish I could have a good one someday soon. Or I think I might really break.”

   You’d turned sombre and serious again, and if anything, you’d have expected her to not know what to say to that.    But contrarily, her eyes brightened, and a sly smile filled her face.

   “I’m sure my dad can help you with that too,” she grinned, actually cocking an eyebrow at you as she got up from the table.

   She then skipped over to a flabbergasted Marcus, the poor man too flustered to know how to react, hugged him goodnight and then disappeared down the hall, having already had her dinner at a reasonable hour.    You watched her disappear down the body of the house, realizing with both joy and dread, that you already loved his kid as well.

   “Um, I’m really sorry about-… She’s nev-… I’ve never seen her behave like this before,” he stammered once she’d left, clearly seriously rattled by Missy’s not so subtle attempt at matchmaking.

   “Don’t worry about it. I think she’s amazing,” you reassured him, and he threw a nervous glance over his shoulder, visibly relaxing when he saw the earnest smile in your eyes.

   You wondered if some part of him had been anxious about the two of you meeting, or thought you might not like her, for some inexplicable reason. Which then made you think it was possible he hadn’t just not brought any women home before, but possibly not even gone on a date since the loss of his wife.    Because you couldn’t think of any other reason he’d be so nervous about all this.

   Once he’d recovered, he brought the plates over and all but ordered you to dig in, while he did the same.    You didn’t really feel all that hungry anymore, mostly you just wanted to sleep. But with each delicious bite it was like your body began to remember it actually needed this stuff, and you ended up helping yourself to another large serving.    Which Marcus heartily approved of.

   “Now, that’s the appetite I’m used to seeing with you,” he grinned. “Feel better?”

   “Loads,” you admitted, noticing how a full stomach seemed to have made so many of your troubles seem a lot smaller.

   You leaned back in your chair once the last bite was swallowed, holding your glass of water and taking slow sips, when he reached out and took your other hand, resting on the edge of the table.

   “Hey. You can’t skip meals. I don’t care how hard you’re working, without fuel you will crash, that’s just a fact,” he admonished, and you stared at your empty plate, feeling like a kid being scolded for skipping class.

   He squeezed your hand, looking for a response and when he didn’t get one, he pushed his chair back and turned his whole body towards you.

   “Look at me, hermosa,” he demanded, and you did.

   “You. Can. Do. This,” he articulated, believing every word himself. “Find a way to do it on your terms. Find a way to make the tasks fall in line behind you, don’t let them try and climb onto your back and stack themselves on top of you. Force Management to hire you your own assistant if that’s what it takes.    You’re stronger than this, I know you are. Stop trying to shape yourself into a manager and start making the manager shape itself from you.    My hermosa doesn’t let a fucking job dictate her life.”

   Yes, everything he said was good and made you want to believe it. But in the end, all you really registered was one thing.

   My hermosa.

   You put your glass down and leaned over to kiss him, and for the first time, you didn’t lose control. You just kissed him. Warmly, lovingly, with your hands on his cheeks. And he just kissed you back. With no demands, no expectations.    But as much as you loved the intimacy and the comfort of being so welcomed by him, your body had been fed a huge meal and all remaining strength was now being rerouted to handle all that nutrition.

   He noticed how limp you were getting even before you did, and quickly helped you to your feet before you fell asleep at the table. Then he practically carried you to a bathroom, where you found some extra reserve of strength to brush your teeth and use the toilet, before he brought you to a bedroom. There, you flopped down on a soft and cool bed while he took off your shoes and helped you get under the covers.

   “I’d ask if you want me to help you undress, but I might get ideas,” he whispered while he pulled a few errant strands of hair back from your face.

   You could hear the smile in his voice, and you wanted to say something clever in return, but you were only seconds from unconsciousness by then, so all you could manage was a less than sexy grunt.    The last thing you were aware of before you succumbed to the blissfulness of sleep, was his lips brushing against your temple, and a whisper to sleep tight.

[the-gay-loser]

This Story Took Me Three Years!

May 10 1779 Wednesday 

The rolling hills around Jockey Hollow are green with patches of wildflowers. Yesterday after our lessons, the girls and I put away our journals then dashed out of the hut. Robert came, too. We ran through fields, over a creek, and up a slope. We just felt like running! When we reached headquarters, we heard commotion coming along the road. Horsemen and soldiers were cheering “Lafayette!” came the shouts. “Huzzah!” “Huzzah!” We each jumped upon a tree stump, hoping to see we only got a quick glimpse of his face and his red hair when he waved at us

May 11 1779 Thursday 

Today I went to headquarters, when I got in Ms. Washington was cooking “good morning Abby! How about you eat with us today, we have a new guest!”

I knew who she meant and I was happy to meet him again. After breakfast Lafayette introduced himself “i don't think we properly introduced i am Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier the Marquis de Lafayette it is a pleasure to meet you” “ same here my name is Abigail Jane Stewart” then we heard Washington say “Marquis where did you go i need your opinion on this battle strategy” Lafayette bowed at me “i hope to see you again Miss Stewart au revoir” i must say he is quite a kind man and i hope to see him again to  

May 19 1779 Wednesday 

I went to headquarters again today because i had to drop off a letter to Mrs Washington i was secretly hoping to see Lafayette when i got in there the generals were all eating Mrs Washington was sitting next to her husband when i looked around I didn’t see Lafayette  Oney came up to me and asked “can i help you dear” “oh…uh I have this letter for Mrs Washington” “i will take it dear” i walked back to the tents  puzzled: why wasn’t lafayette there, did he leave already? 

May 20 1779 Thursday

I came to headquarters again cause Mrs Washington invited me for tea,

Mrs Knox was waiting “hello Abby come in and sit Mrs Washington will be here soon” upstairs I heard horrible coughing. I must have had a confused look cause Mrs Knox said “poor thing, hopefully he’ll get better soon” “who?” “Lafayette, poor thing caught a terrible fever been coughing and wheezing all day and yesterday to” that's why I didn’t see him yesterday he didnt leave he’s sick “ahh Abby you're here, sorry to disappoint you but we might have to cancel this meeting i don't know if Mrs Knox already told you but Lafayette has a terrible fever poor thing and worst of all he feels bad i keep telling him it's fine but he won’t stop saying sorry” i left feeling sorry for him  

May 23 1779 Sunday 

I told mama she said “we should bring him something” we spend all day trying to convince the soldiers to go steal eggs flour milk and butter from farmers so we could make butter bread Sally and Mazie stole one mama wasn’t to happy she might of thrown a wooden spoon at sally once or twice

May 24 1779 Monday

Today i went to headquarters, to give the biscuits to Lafayette Mrs Washington let me go up to see him cause she said he should be asleep I walked upstairs and entered the room I walked over and but the basket on the table bye his bed I turned and couldn’t stop string he looked so adorable with his fever flushed cheeks and his long hair falling down his face I couldn’t help but tuck the loose hair behind his ear he moaned and his eyes flickered open he opened his mouth to speak but a coughing fit hit him he groaned and shut his eyes again I told him he not speak or it would drain his energy further he moaned again and grabbed my hand squeezing it I sighed he was delirious I set a wet washcloth on his forehead and headed downstairs i said my quick goodbyes and left 

May 30 1779 Friday 

Ok if i don’t write this down I’ll explode with joy, so it was a regular day I was doing laundry with mama and Mrs Lulu while Sally and Mazie played i was about to hang something when i heard horse hoofs i was pretty sure it was the general he always does check-in’s on the soldiers but the hooves stopped at our tent then I heard mama “thank you and you feel better” i knew who it was i almost yelled Lafayette was at our tent a major general at our tent i walked over pretending i didnt know he was here “oh hello again” i said, he smiled but this time he seemed really happy “do you feel better?” I asked of course he said “yes, thank you for that bread it was heavenly” 

I felt myself blushing. I couldn’t stop. He smiled, of course Sally asked “can i pet your horse” either he has kids at home or he doesn’t want to be rude “but of course” he said then this spiraled into a tornado of questions “what is it like in France? Do you have a family? Are you married? Do you have kids? Do you have more pets? Do you know Mr and Mrs Washington?” He answered all of them which I thought was humanly impossible. But it answers my questions here are the answers 

What is it like in France: well it's nothing like America 

Do you have a family: sadly my mom and dad died before i was 13

Are you married: yes 

Do you have kids: yes 

Do you have more pets: yes lots more but all of them are back in France 

Do you know Mr and Mrs Washington: Yes Mr. Washington is my commanding officer, and Mrs. Washington helped take care of me when i was sick 

Then he bowed and rode off i was starstruck he was kind with my mom and answered all of the questions my sister asked and let her and Mazie pet his horse he didn’t even care that Mrs Lulu and Mazie are black, but i knew that him and Mr. Washington are really close and wanna something cool diary he had both pants pulled up so i could see a musket ball scar i wanted to ask but i knew it was rude my candle is Burning out goodnight diary

June 1779 Monday

Me and sally walked over to headquarters today and wow it's hot i was sweating like crazy, before i go in i rub my forehead with my dress, everyone was drinking wine and cheering Lafayette was sitting with Mr. Washington i could see Washington laughing while Lafayette smiled suddenly Oney popped up next to me “there sweet aren’t they lafayette is one of the only generals that make him laugh” i looked back she was looking at me i didn't know what to say but luckily Sally saved me “Abby we have to go back to the camp” before i left i waved to lafayette he waved back i didn't know that was gonna happen Washington looked over at me and smiled that was the first time i saw him smile at me. 

June 10 1779 Wednesday 

Today lafayette wrote to me and asked if i wanted to come to headquarters cause his was “bored out of my mind” i came over but before i could go inside i heard this “Miss Stewart over here” i didn't consider that we would walk around jockey hollow together but it was nice we talked about our family’s and our life’s it got late and he walked me back to camp kissing my hand before he left 

June 11 1779 Thursday

Today i came by just for fun, when i came everyone looked sad Lafayette had his head in hands Mrs. Washington was patting him on the back she asked me to grab a handkerchief for Lafayette i did and he picked up his head his eyes where red and his face was pale he was trying to catch his breath Mrs. Washington nodded to the kitchen and we both walked over there “what going on?” “Lafayette’s oldest daughter Henriette passed away a year ago poor thing had just got the letter” as i was walking back i thought to myself:

1: lafayette was on a boat for 2 months  and then hiked through snow

2: he got a terrible cold

3:  and know he just lost his oldest daughter 

Can things get any worse for him?

July 12 1779 Tuesday

I went over to check on Lafayette only to find he wasn’t at headquarters I walked around trying to find him until I finally saw a figure sleeping against a tree I walked over and sure enough it was lafayette he was sound asleep against a giant oak tree I got a little nervous when i saw that he was a slight bit more pale but i walked over to him and shook him a bit he startled and then opened his eyes he say me and instantly shot up like a bullet “Miss Stewart to what do i owe the pleasure I smiled and told him I was looking for him he smiled and sat back down we talked for awhile sometimes he would pause a swallow down what i expected to be a sob I told he didn't have to hid it he instantly let multiple teardrops fall from his face and all i did was wrap my arms around him and pull him into a tight hug 

July 13 1779 Wednesday 

My fathers division is now under command of Lafayette finally more time to see a dear friend. He is based in a brick house a few miles away. Sally and Mazie have been doing stick races on the frozen lake 

January 1 1779 Thursday 

Lafayette has been riding back and forth from Washington’s camp and whenever he returns he looks stressed. I haven’t been able to see him a lot but he smiles whenever he sees me.

January 21779 Friday

Oh diary i am writing while crying tis why there are wet spots on these pages I can’t write about it know

July 16 1780 Saturday 

Ok, diary time to write about last night.

As I said in my entirety on Thursday Lafayette rides back and forth from Washington’s camp to his, well yesterday he went out again. I heard a rumor about him having a violent headache but he looked fine when he left. Well after an hour of him gone people started to worry so we sent a scout to go see if he was ok so when he comes back asking for a wagon we all yell “Mrs. Washington is coming with friends” but i didn't cause the man looked concerned well when he came back and no one was in the wagon we all put our heads down Mrs.Washington Wasn’t coming but then the man called for a doctor we all panicked looking for anyone well sally and Mazie found one sleeping they shook him awake no one knew  who it could be but i think i knew and it hit me like a bullet to the heart when i saw reddish hair it was lafayette he passed out on his ride there and when the scout saw him and no horse he panicked that why he wanted blankets and a wagon the doctor got over and first checked his palm for a heart beat lucky he told everyone his heart was beating but very faintly he was shivering and looked horrid the doctor asked Capitan Sherman Locks to help carry lafayette in side to the hearth where he could warm up next the doctor asked for an assistant and picked me when i got in i was assigned to put a hot rag on his head. for a job that sounded so simple it pulled on your heart strings he would moan and shut his eyes tight and squeeze my hand which made me know he was still living which was a good sign but when he was squeezing and his hand loosened i panicked i called for the doctor but he didn’t hear me i got so stressed i fainted when i awoke i was on a chair someone must’ve put me there but when i saw lafayette rubbing his head my world lit up he was alive when i stood he said “ahh your awake”

“How are you?” I asked “good, but my head feels like it was hit by a carriage” I laughed and he joined me then From the other room “Miss Stewart, is he awake?” “Yes, sir he is” the doctor walked over a put his hand on Lafayette’s head “ow” said lafayette The man shook his head “General Lafayette, I am afraid you might be dying” tears poured down me face i shook my head and ran out I don't know what Lafayette said but I bet he was as scared and sad as me

January 17 1778 Sunday

I told Mama,Sally,Miss Lulu,and Mazie every single one of them started to cry the word spread fast people started to pray and some started to make a coffin i couldn’t  make my body move i was so upset all of a sudden I started to feel scared really scared like i lost all the protection i had gained i realized that i was scared because being around lafayette made me feel safe.

January 18 1778 Monday

I got a letter from headquarters today i asked around i was the only one to get it i lit a candle outside and opened the letter: “Dear Adrienne” oh no it was for his wife but i really wanted to read it so I copied the letter in this diary and then sealed it and told myself to sneak to the mail pile in headquarters here diary but lets keep this our little secret 

Dear Adrienne, this hard to write as my hand trembles at the mere thought of it but i have came down with a fever and when the doctor examined me he said i might be dying although i may have committed many errors and pushed your heart to its limits 

I don't want you to grief for i do not believe this doctor and i will live until i am back with you adieu my dear adieu oh diary i wish i had a husband like that

January 19 1778 Tuesday 

Well today was a sad day. It was the day of goodbyes and farewells. I was last in line when  It was my time the man said “I can’t let you pass, General Lafayette needs his rest.” Then we heard from the other room “Know Jacob, does that seem fair?” It was Mr. Washington.  Washington walked over and leaning heavily on his shoulder was…Lafayette Oh i was so happy to see him he did not look any better but oh diary how his face lit up when he saw me “Miss Stewart it is a true pleasure to see you again” Mr. Washington said “same here sir” he nodded then after i prayed for Lafayette and wished him heath I went back to camp when I got back I asked mama “why didn’t Lafayette talk to me?” She answered and both of them i didn't like

1: “well either he was sad and grieving and just disappeared into himself i did that when David died”

2: “ he's too sick to talk and his in need of very serious care and help”

January 20 1778 Wednesday 

Today was a weird day, the doctor told me to come over and care for Lafayette, cause the he had to go see more patients, so I went over expecting to find him sleeping or resting, but instead he was at a desk, piles of letters around him he seemed fine so i sat down on a chair at the dining table. Then I heard a moan and walked over to find him head in hands and grimacing. I walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder as he lurched away. I stood in shock for a second and then gently spoke into his ear “hey…let's get you up into bed” he nodded and i helped him up the stairs once I finally had him in bed I went back downstairs to continue cleaning 

January 21 1778 Thursday

I came over today and he was sleeping I started to cook and then called to him “Lafayette, i made some soup do you want some” when i got no answer i went over and found him eyes shut and breathing heavily, i panicked the first thing that popped in my head was to go get my mom, i ran as fast as i could my mom dropped her spoon and ran with me first thing she did before we went was she told one of the volunteers to go get the doctor, when we got in my mom walked over and picked up his head and felt his forehead before the doctor came in, when the doctor came in he said the heavy breathing was because his body was fighting pain i took a deep breath at least he wasn’t losing breath, when the doctor left after waking lafayette up and helping him walk upstairs the doctor asked if i could stay for a while i asked him why he said he might die any minute at the word i burst into tears my mother walked over “my daughter will not see the man who she is friends with die” the word die was said to many times for my brain to count i started to lose count my legs go all nub and i fell to my knees head in hands and cried why him why my mom helped me outside and to our campsite Mazie and Sally were playing and when Sally saw my tears she ran up to me and hugged me i hugged her back she was a good sister 

January 30 1780 Wednesday

I have had a weird few days, well a weird hour because almost an hour ago I was asked to see take care of Lafayette (he didn't die yet) when I got inside I went up to his room where was staring at the ceiling “how are you?” I asked he just moaned “who made you mister depressed” he chuckled at that but it caused him to start wheezing i sat him up so he could breathe better “Merci Beaucoup Miss Stewart” I couldn’t stop crying he looked at me puzzled “what’s wrong?” “I’m scared for you” I couldn’t hold my self back anymore “Your one of my best friends and I honestly care about you and you don’t deserve to die like this, your wife needs you, your kid needs you…America needs you. He looked me in the eyes and smilied “trust me Miss. Stewart I will fight to my last breath” he held open his arms and I jumped into them and hugged him then I heard quiet snores I laughed he fell asleep in my arms. I let go and tucked him in and kissed his forehead “I have no doubt” and I walked out of his room feeling like my old self.

February 2 1780 Saturday 

I was sitting by the fire when an officer came over and handed me a letter. Curious and confused, I opened it. It read: Hello Miss. Stewart, I am sorry to contact you on such short notice but Lafayette has developed a horrible fever and if we don’t get his temperature down he might die. I know that this is on such short notice but I need you to come back to Fish Kill. He keeps asking for you and is refusing help from anyone else. Yours Truly Martha Washington (P.S If you accept this offer I will have a carriage sent for you personally.) Lafayette was asking for me, the poor girl who made food and cleaned the soldiers' old smelly clothes. There was no hesitation. I wrote back immediately . Dear Mrs. Washington, I would be honored to come back to Fish Kill and help Lafayette. To be honest I have become quite attached to the young french man thinking of him as my brother. I would be delighted if I could help in anyway I could. Is it true he is asking for me specifically. Sincerely Abigail Stewart.   The next day I got a letter back from Mrs. Washington. Thank you so much Mrs. Stewart!  I will have a carriage sent right away and yes, he has been asking for you specifically.

February 10, 1780 Sunday

A carriage arrived the very next day to escort me back to Fishkill. As I sat inside, the wheels rattling over the uneven terrain, my heart pounded with a mixture of fear and determination. Lafayette needed me, and I was determined to do whatever I could to help him.

Upon arriving at Fishkill, I was greeted by Mrs. Washington herself, her face etched with worry. Without wasting a moment, she led me inside the grand estate, where Lafayette lay feverish and weak.

Entering Lafayette's room, I was struck by the sight of him lying in bed, his face flushed with fever and his breathing labored. Mrs. Washington explained that despite their best efforts, they had been unable to bring down his temperature.

Taking a deep breath, I approached Lafayette's bedside, my hands trembling with apprehension. He stirred at the sound of my footsteps, his eyes fluttering open to meet mine.

"Abby..." he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

I took his hand in mine, feeling the heat radiating from his fevered skin. "I'm here, Lafayette," I said softly, willing my voice to remain steady despite the fear that threatened to overwhelm me.

For hours, I sat by Lafayette's side, bathing his fevered brow and offering words of comfort as he drifted in and out of consciousness. Despite his weakened state, his spirit remained unbroken, his determination to fight evident in the steely resolve that flickered in his eyes.

As the hours stretched into days, Lafayette's condition began to improve, thanks to the tireless care and attention of Mrs. Washington and the skilled physicians who tended to him. His fever gradually subsided, and color returned to his cheeks, a welcome sign of his strengthening resolve.

Throughout it all, I remained by Lafayette's side, offering whatever support I could. In those quiet moments by his bedside, I came to realize the depth of the bond that had formed between us—a bond forged in the crucible of adversity and strengthened by shared moments of fear and courage.

And as Lafayette finally emerged from the shadow of illness, his spirit renewed and his strength restored, I knew that our journey was far from over. Together, we would face whatever challenges lay ahead, drawing strength from each other and the unbreakable bond that bound us together.

February 15, 1780 Friday

As the days passed, Lafayette's strength continued to return, much to the relief of everyone at Fishkill. With each passing day, his fever subsided further, and his appetite slowly returned. The once pale and weakened Lafayette began to regain his color and vitality, a testament to his resilience and determination.

I remained by Lafayette's side, offering companionship and support as he recovered. We would spend hours talking about everything from our hopes and dreams to the challenges we had faced during the war. Lafayette's spirit was indomitable, his optimism contagious, and in his presence, I found solace and strength.

Despite the hardship he had endured, Lafayette remained steadfast in his commitment to the cause of liberty. His passion for freedom burned bright within him, a guiding light that inspired all who knew him.

As Lafayette grew stronger, he expressed his gratitude for my presence and unwavering support during his illness. He thanked me for being there for him when he needed it most, and I could see the sincerity in his eyes.

In those quiet moments together, I came to cherish the bond that had formed between us—a bond forged in the crucible of adversity and strengthened by our shared experiences. Lafayette had become more than just a friend; he was like family to me, and I was grateful for the opportunity to stand by his side.

And as Lafayette continued on the path to recovery, I knew that our friendship would endure long after the war had ended. For in the midst of darkness, we had found light, and in each other, we had found the strength to persevere. Together, we would face whatever challenges the future held, knowing that as long as we stood united, nothing could break our bond.

February 25, 1780 Monday

As Lafayette's recovery progressed, a sense of normalcy began to return to Fishkill. The tension that had gripped the estate during Lafayette's illness slowly dissipated, replaced by a renewed sense of hope and optimism.

Lafayette's presence was like a beacon of light, lifting the spirits of all who crossed his path. His laughter echoed through the halls, his infectious energy infusing the estate with newfound vitality.

Despite his recent brush with death, Lafayette remained as determined as ever to continue the fight for liberty. He spoke passionately about the future of America, his vision of a nation united by freedom and equality inspiring all who listened.

I found myself drawn to Lafayette's unwavering optimism and boundless enthusiasm. In his company, I felt a sense of purpose and belonging, as if I were part of something greater than myself.

As the days turned into weeks, Lafayette and I grew closer, our friendship deepening with each passing moment. We shared laughter and tears, dreams and fears, finding comfort in each other's presence.

And as spring approached, casting its golden glow over the rolling hills of Fishkill, I knew that a new chapter was beginning—one filled with promise and possibility.

For Lafayette and I, the journey was far from over. But with courage in our hearts and hope in our souls, we faced the future together, ready to embrace whatever adventures lay ahead.

And as we stood side by side, gazing out at the horizon, I knew that no matter what challenges may come our way, as long as we had each other, we could overcome anything. 

March 3rd, 1780 Saturday

A shadow hangs over the estate—a shadow casted by the specter of illness that once again gripped Lafayette.

It began with a slight cough, barely noticeable at first, but soon it grew into a persistent wheeze that wracked Lafayette's frail frame. Despite his best efforts to conceal his suffering, it was clear to all who knew him that something was terribly wrong.

As the days passed, Lafayette's condition deteriorated rapidly. His once vibrant energy waned, replaced by a pallor that spoke of deep-seated sickness. His cough grew more violent, each rasping breath a painful reminder of the frailty of human life.

Despite the best efforts of the physicians at Fishkill, Lafayette's fever raged unabated, burning like a wildfire within him. His strength waned with each passing day, his spirit dimming like a candle in the wind.

I remained by Lafayette's side, offering whatever comfort and support I could, but it pained me to see him suffer so. His once bright eyes now dulled with pain, his voice reduced to a mere whisper as he struggled to draw breath.

In those quiet moments by his bedside, I prayed for a miracle—a glimmer of hope to pierce the darkness that threatened to consume us. And miraculously, it came.

Despite the dire prognosis, Lafayette's condition began to improve. His fever broke, and color returned to his cheeks as his strength slowly returned. It was a testament to his resilience and determination, a testament to the indomitable spirit that had carried him through so many trials before.

As Lafayette's health improved, so too did the mood at Fishkill. The once somber atmosphere gave way to a sense of cautious optimism, as we dared to hope for a brighter future.

And though Lafayette's recovery would be slow and arduous, we knew that with time and care, he would emerge from this ordeal stronger than ever before.

As I sat by Lafayette's side, watching over him as he slept, I felt a profound sense of gratitude wash over me. Gratitude for his resilience, for his courage, and for the unwavering friendship that had sustained us through the darkest of days.

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting its golden rays over the peaceful landscape, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, as long as we faced them together, there was nothing we couldn't overcome. For in the bonds of friendship and the resilience of the human spirit, we found the strength to endure, one day at a time.

April 20, 1780 Saturday

Despite the budding beauty of the season, a sense of tension hung heavy in the air—a tension born of the ever-present threat of danger that lurked just beyond the horizon.

One fateful day, Lafayette embarked on a reconnaissance mission to gather crucial intelligence on enemy movements. His departure filled us with a sense of unease, for we knew all too well the perils that awaited him on the battlefield.

Days turned into weeks, and still, there was no word from Lafayette. Each passing day brought with it a sense of mounting dread, as we waited anxiously for news of his fate.

Then, one stormy night, a rider arrived at Fishkill, bearing grave tidings. Lafayette had been gravely injured in battle, his condition critical. Without hesitation, we rallied to his side, determined to do whatever it took to save him.

As we journeyed to the battlefield, the sounds of cannons and muskets grew louder, a cacophony of chaos that served as a grim reminder of the horrors of war. But amidst the chaos, there was a glimmer of hope—a hope that Lafayette would emerge from this ordeal alive and well.

Finally, we reached the battlefield, where Lafayette lay wounded amidst the carnage of war. His face was pale, his breathing shallow, but his spirit remained unbroken. With trembling hands, we carried him to safety, praying for his swift recovery.

Back at Fishkill, we tended to Lafayette's injuries with the utmost care, each of us doing our part to ease his suffering. But as the days passed, it became increasingly clear that his injuries were more severe than we had initially feared.

Lafayette had sustained multiple gunshot wounds, each one more serious than the last. His condition was critical, his very life hanging in the balance as we fought tirelessly to keep him alive.

Despite the pain, Lafayette remained resolute, his determination to overcome his injuries serving as a source of inspiration to us all. But as the days stretched into weeks, his strength began to wane, his once bright spirit dimming like a flickering flame.

And yet, even in his darkest hour, Lafayette refused to give up hope. With each passing day, he fought bravely against the odds, his unwavering courage a testament to the indomitable human spirit.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Lafayette's condition began to stabilize. Though the road to recovery would be long and arduous, there was a glimmer of hope on the horizon—a hope that Lafayette would emerge from this ordeal stronger than ever before.

And as we watched him slowly regain his strength, we knew that though the scars of battle would always remain, they served as a reminder of Lafayette's bravery and sacrifice in the fight for freedom.

As spring gave way to summer, the war continued to rage on, but with Lafayette by our side once more, we faced the challenges ahead with renewed determination. And though the road ahead would be long and fraught with peril, we knew that as long as we stood together, there was nothing we couldn't overcome.

August 10, 1780 Sunday

With the arrival of fall, a sense of rejuvenation swept through Fishkill, breathing new life into the estate and its inhabitants. The once barren trees began to bud, and vibrant wildflowers dotted the landscape, painting the hillsides with splashes of color.

Lafayette, now fully recovered from his illness, seemed to embody the spirit of renewal that permeated the air. His energy was boundless, his enthusiasm infectious, and everywhere he went, he brought with him a sense of hope and optimism.

As the days grew longer and warmer, Lafayette took to exploring the surrounding countryside, eager to immerse himself in the beauty of nature. He would often invite me to accompany him on his walks, and together we would wander through meadows and forests, lost in conversation and laughter.

During these moments of tranquility, Lafayette would share stories of his homeland, regaling me with tales of France and his family. I found myself captivated by his words, transported to a world far removed from the chaos of war.

But amidst the beauty of spring, reminders of the ongoing struggle for independence were never far away. News from the front lines brought both triumph and tragedy, as the tide of battle ebbed and flowed across the countryside.

Yet, even in the face of adversity, Lafayette remained steadfast in his commitment to the cause. His unwavering resolve served as a beacon of hope for all who fought alongside him, a reminder that victory was within reach if they remained united in their pursuit of freedom.

And as we stood together beneath the clear blue skies of spring, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, as long as we faced them together, there was nothing we couldn't overcome. For in the bonds of friendship and the promise of a brighter tomorrow, we found the strength to endure, one day at a time.

March 28th, 1780 Saturday

Even with spring now blooming into full splendor, the war raged on, its echoes reaching even the tranquil sanctuary of Fishkill. The distant thunder of cannons served as a constant reminder of the sacrifices being made on the battlefield, a reminder of the price of freedom.

But amidst the chaos and uncertainty, there was a sense of unity and purpose that bound us together. Lafayette's presence at Fishkill served as a beacon of hope, his unwavering dedication to the cause inspiring us all to persevere in the face of adversity.

Together, we worked tirelessly to support the troops, providing aid and comfort to those in need. From sewing uniforms to tending to the wounded, each of us played our part in the fight for liberty, fueled by the belief that a better future awaited us on the other side of the struggle.

And as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, a sense of anticipation began to build. Rumors of impending victory spread like wildfire, igniting a spark of hope in the hearts of all who longed for peace.

Then, one fateful day, news arrived that the war had come to an end. The long-awaited moment had finally arrived—the dream of independence had become a reality.

Amidst the jubilation and celebrations that swept across the land, Lafayette stood tall, a symbol of resilience and determination. His unwavering commitment to the cause had helped pave the way for victory, and his legacy would forever be enshrined in the annals of history.

As the sun set on the battlefield, casting its golden rays over the hallowed ground, I stood beside Lafayette, gazing out at the horizon. In that moment, amidst the quiet beauty of the evening, I knew that a new chapter was beginning—a chapter filled with promise, possibility, and the enduring hope of a brighter tomorrow.

And as we looked towards the future, hand in hand, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, as long as we faced them together, there was nothing we couldn't overcome. For in the bonds of friendship and the triumph of the human spirit, we found the strength to build a better world—one step at a time.

[docrotten]

THE H-MAN (1958, BIJO TO EKITAI NINGEN) – Episode 173 – Decades Of Horror: The Classic Era

“What if by some bizarre phenomenon, his physical form just melted away? Would that fit your crime scene?” Hmm … bizarre phenomenon? Let’s run with it. Join this episode’s Grue-Crew – Daphne Monary-Ernsdorff, Doc Rotten, and Jeff Mohr along with guest host Chris Peters – as they discuss Toho’s The H-Man (1958), directed by the great Ishirô Honda.

Decades of Horror: The Classic Era Episode 173 – The H-Man (1958)

Join the Crew on the Gruesome Magazine YouTube channel! Subscribe today! And click the alert to get notified of new content! https://youtube.com/gruesomemagazine

ANNOUNCEMENT Decades of Horror The Classic Era is partnering with THE CLASSIC SCI-FI MOVIE CHANNEL, THE CLASSIC HORROR MOVIE CHANNEL, and WICKED HORROR TV CHANNEL Which all now include video episodes of The Classic Era! Available on Roku, AppleTV, Amazon FireTV, AndroidTV, Online Website. Across All OTT platforms, as well as mobile, tablet, and desktop. https://classicscifichannel.com/; https://classichorrorchannel.com/; https://wickedhorrortv.com/

When a narcotics dealer disappears, leaving only his clothes, Tokyo police are stumped. A scientist claims H-Bomb tests in the Pacific have created radioactive creatures – “H-Men” – who ooze like slime and liquify anyone they touch.

  Directed by: Ishirô Honda

Writing Credits: Takeshi Kimura (written by); Hideo Unagami (story)

Produced by: Tomoyuki Tanaka

Music by: Masaru Satô

Cinematography by: Hajime Koizumi

Editing by: Kazuji Taira

Production Design by: Takeo Kita

Special Effects by: Eiji Tsuburaya (director of special effects) 

Selected Cast:

Yumi Shirakawa as Chikako Arai, singer in the nightclub

Kenji Sahara as Dr. Masada

Akihiko Hirata as Inspector Tominaga

Eitarô Ozawa as Police Sgt. Miyashita (as Eitaro Ozawa)

Koreya Senda as Dr. Maki

Makoto Satô as Uchida, gangster

Yoshifumi Tajima as Detective Sakata

Yoshio Tsuchiya as Detective Taguchi

Ayumi Sonoda as Emi, lead exotic dancer

Hisaya Itô as Misaki, the dissolved gangster

Nadao Kirino as Shimazaki, the waiter-thug

Naomi Shiraishi as Mineko, Dr. Maki’s assistant

Tetsu Nakamura as Mr. Chin, gangster

Tadao Nakamaru as Detective Seki

Minosuke Yamada as Chief of Inspectors Kusuda

Akira Sera as Horita – Fisherman

Haruya Katô as Sochan – Fisherman

Yasuhiro Shigenobu as Yasukichi – Fisherman

Senkichi Ômura as Daichan, 1st dissolved fisherman (Let me try on the pants!)

Haruo Nakajima as Chosuke, 2nd dissolved fisherman & Liquid Human Being

Shigeo Katô as Matchan, 3rd dissolved fisherman

Paul Frees as Various Voices (American dubbing)

Are you ready to battle an invasion of liquified men? Watch out, The Blob (1958), The H-Man (1958) is here to make you rue the day. Toho Films and director Ishirô Honda (Godzilla, 1954) blend sci-fi, horror, film noir, and… cabaret… for all kinds of horrifying shenanigans. Yup, people liquify left and right throughout the short 87-minute runtime. That’s right, only gooey globs of clothes and hairpieces remain. Join the Grue-Crew along with special guest-host Chris Peters (aka, José) as they revisit and review this unusual yet highly entertaining entry from the film company that gave the world Akira Kurosawa, Ishirô Honda, Godzilla, Mothra, and so much more.

At the time of this writing, The H-Man is available for streaming from the Classic Horror Movie Channel, Classic Sci-Fi Movie Channel, and Tubi.

You may be interested in these other Decades of Horror episodes focused on Ishirô Honda-directed films:

GODZILLA (1954, GOJIRA) – Episode 58 – Decades of Horror: The Classic Era

HALF HUMAN (JÛ JIN YUKI OTOKO, 1955) – Episode 16 – Decades of Horror: The Classic Era

RODAN (1956) – Episode 101 – Decades of Horror: The Classic Era

MATANGO (1963, ATTACK OF THE MUSHROOM PEOPLE) – Episode 135 – Decades of Horror: The Classic Era

THE WAR OF THE GARGANTUAS (FURANKENSHUTAIN NO KAIJÛ: SANDA TAI GAIRA, 1966) – Episode 57 – Decades of Horror: The Classic Era

SPACE AMOEBA (1970, YOG: MONSTER FROM SPACE) – Episode 127 – Decades of Horror 1970s

TERROR OF MECHAGODZILLA (1975) – Episode 165 – Decades of Horror 1970s

Gruesome Magazine’s Decades of Horror: The Classic Era records a new episode every two weeks. Up next in their very flexible schedule, as chosen by guest host Scott Wells is King of the Zombies (1941), a horror comedy directed by Jean Yarbrough (The Devil Bat, 1940; House of Horrors, 1946; The She-Wolf of London, 1946) and starring Dick Purcell, Joanne Woodbury, Henry Victor, and the great Mantan Moreland.

Please let them know how they’re doing! They want to hear from you – the coolest, grooviest fans: leave them a message or leave a comment on the Gruesome Magazine YouTube channel, the site, or email the Decades of Horror: The Classic Era podcast hosts at feedback@gruesomemagazine.com

To each of you from each of them, “Thank you so much for watching and listening!”

Check out this episode!

[music-orthemisery]

Hello! It’s me, anon who’s ranting about SP ) thank you for answering my rambling!

The most interesting thing is, that I totally agree with you, when I was high on my #feels for this tiny man, and was dreaming about this album meeting the light of the day in the more kind, more receptive timeline, what I was really wishing for is Patrick incorporating more songs from his album in his piano/acoustic guitar medley ))) or maybe even 8ball?? Because, unfortunately, you’re right, and the whole thing didn’t came from a happy place. And reliving it would be hard on everyone involved. Your relationship metaphor is so spot on, Pete taught us well )) Also, how funny is this, that this man can take the most serious, complicated topics and dress them up as dance, rock’ roll fusion songs … He does this on their latest album as well, it’s fascinating.

As about this famous pop artist whose album kinda flopped for me… I think I just hyped myself up too much, I heard good reviews, and thought it will be a bang of a record, but.. it’s not that bad, maybe I just need more time and some songs will stick with me ))

Anon, I’m going to subscribe to the insane delulu that Mr. Stump saw your ask last night because HE! DELIVERED!!!! WHAT ARE THE ODDS?!

Bad side of 25?!?! I’m dead and dying, honestly.

I am definitely holding your hand in terms of wishing that album could be released in the loving and supportive fan base that exists now. It kills me that he experienced so much pushback and vitriol. I fully believe him when he says that he was ok with it not being “successful,” but it was devastating to hear how much “fans” actively hated it. And be told this at his own shows!!

I try to remind myself that it was just part of the journey, though, and what helped make FOB what they are today <3

It’s easy to get caught up in the FOB feels. They have SUCH a story, and have come so far, yet have remained very true to themselves. That’s incredibly rare to find!

Totally agree that Patrick’s ability to take heart wrenching and serious topics and turn them into total bops is honestly unmatched. The beauty of all of his music is that you can either turn brain off and jam, turn brain on and cry, or do an odd mixture of both (<- me in the car tbh).

Feel free to express the feelings here any time!

(Ok but fr anon I am dying to know who you are talking about I do NOT get offended and prob will agree with you tbh hahahaha)