#ye you better be afraid stephen

[chouxsardine]

Permission to Fall -- Jake Kiszka x reader

Summary: "Don't be afraid of falling, because he will catch you everytime" --Where things became too much at your company's Christmas party and Jake comes to the rescue as the most thoughtful boyfriend that he is.

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x reader

Word Count: 3211

Warnings: descriptions of a panic attack, feet (nothing gross or super detailed), a drop of superstition (let me know if I've missed any)

Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort

Author's note: This is originally an idea inspired by @jakesguitarsolo and written for her. I hope you feel better now, dear. One idea spins into me pulling an all nighter...And here it is. This also goes to whoever feels stressed around this time of the year. Yes, things are tough, but you are stronger. I am so proud of you. If you want to talk, feel free to send me an ask or message. This is my first gvf fic and my first time writing anything for threes years. I really enjoyed writing it. I hope you enjoy reading it too.

🎧: I am listening to I Need You Most of All by Stephen Sanchez while writing this (you can tell the title is taken from the lyrics)

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Suddenly everything is too much.

But you know damn well that it doesn’t just happen “suddenly”. In fact, shit has been building up for days, or even weeks. You don’t know if it’s the end-of-year frenzy getting into everyone’s head, Mercury is in retrograde, or the depleted Vitamin D levels due to shortened daylight, you’ve had it particularly rough recently, from small inconveniences like your favourite snack being out of stock at the local grocery store for three consecutive weeks to mishaps like you taking the blame for your impotent coworker. You are exhausted, to say the least; you couldn’t wait for the holidays. Not entirely for its cheer, but for the few precious days off. You just need a break from everything.

Now you are stuck in your company’s holiday party. The annual event that you dreaded the most. It involves too many fake smiles, false-hearted small talk, and tooth-rotting-sweet cupcakes that clearly have too much food colouring. All the mental preparing goes south as you stand in the room, the stabbing pain from your high-heels growing more and more unbearable by the second. Too many people.

“Just another thirty minutes, you can do it. Just another thirty minutes”. You hopelessly glance at the clock on the wall, flashbacking to your childhood self squirming in the seats waiting for math class to end.

But of course, something has to make matters worse. The real straw that breaks the camel’s back is your clumsy coworker accidentally bumping into you and spilling her drink on your shoes.

“Oh my god, I am so so sorry, y/n!” She hastily apologizes in a high-pitched squeal. A few people turn their heads toward your direction.

“No, no, it’s okay, don’t worry about it.” Embarrassment. Embarrassment. Panic. Trouble. You try to wave her off. The shoes aren’t even your top concerns right now; you just want her to stop talking and stop attracting more unwanted attention.

“Really? Oh I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to! It’s just—”

“Please.” You take the handful of tissues from her, look her in the eyes, almost pleading, “It’s fine. Please excuse me, I’ll just go to the washroom real quick.”

Once the washroom door is closed behind you, you feel like collapsing right there on the floor. You wobble your way to the sink, arms propped up on the cold marble surface. You don’t dare to look at yourself in the mirror. Your ears are buzzing and the twisted feeling in your lungs tightens. As if a cold hand is wringing a wet towel inside your stomach, as if someone is shoving your head into cold water, you can't breath properly. You try to draw a breath, but end up sounding like a stranded whale. Before it develops into a full-blown panic attack that you can’t handle, you managed to muster the last bit of your sanity and dial that number with trembling fingers.

Jake picks up on the second ring.

“Hi, love. What’s up? ”

Upon hearing his voice, your tears break free. You are sobbing so hard that you have to bite down on your knuckles to keep the volume down. God forbid any busybody out there overhearing sobbing coming out of the washroom. “Ja—Jake—-”You struggled to form a coherent syllable.

“What’s wrong, y/n? Are you hurt?” His voice immediately grows sterner, stripped of of the previous languidness.

To talk under this state feels like squeezing words out of your veins. “Ca—can—you..come p—pick me up? Company—p-party.” You stutter through gritted teeth.

There is some shuffled noise over the phone, a loud bang sounding like he had bumped into something, a silent “fuck” under his breath, then his voice reaches your ears again: “Coming right now, baby, take a deep breath for me.”

You hear the faint beeping of car keys. More shuffled noise. More beeping. That means he has started the car, right? That means he will be here soon, right? You mind is racing and spinning and your lungs are still acting up, only allow silvers of oxygen into your body. You feel like you are watching the world through a distorted filter. A scarier thought jumps into your brain: you whiny puny thing, continue crying and your panic will affect Jake. The roads are slippery now, and it will be all your fault if he ends up in a car accident.

As if being slapped in the face, you manage to suck in a deep breath like a scuba diver resurfacing to the water: “Drive safe please, please Jake, please—I will wait for you.”

Jake makes a sound that is somewhat between a relieved laugh and a resigned sigh. He knows instantly what’s going on in your overthinking brain; you are worried about him. The thoughtfulness must be engraved in y/n’s brain, he thought, always, always putting others in front of herself, even when she’s having a panic attack. And Jake knows you are correct. It is only upon hearing your words that he realizes how hard he was gripping the steering wheel. He recomposes himself, relaxing his shoulder, “Don’t you worry about me, love. I will stay on the phone if that makes you feel better, yeah? Ain’t nothing gonna happen to me.”

“Knock on wood!” You hiss between sobbing, frantically searching for any wooden material around you. Damn it, why is everything so shiny and glassy?

Jake is amazed that he even lets out a short laugh under the circumstances. Yes, his heart aches hearing his girl being a mess over the phone, and he wishes he could grow wings and fly to her side. But meanwhile, he can't help but find you cute like this. He knocks three times on the mini wooden tissue box that he keeps in the middle console.

“Yes, knock on wood. You hear that, doll?”

“Hmm.” You would honestly believe anything now. Hearing Jake’s voice and imagining him coming to you is like brown noise for babies. Your lungs finally decide to have mercy on you, and you can now somehow draw in shallow breaths albeit the pain in your chest.

Jake is relieved as he sees the green lights shining at the last intersection before turning left onto the side road where your company is located. “I’m here. Can you come down by yourself, love? Or do you want me to get you?”

“I can come down.” You say. The thought of him finding you in a messy pile on the bathroom floor makes you wince, even though he’d probably seen worse.

“Okay baby, see you in a second.”

You don’t remember how you collected your coat and pushed your way through the crowded room without many people noticing. The next moment, your sensations are restored, and you find yourself already in Jake’s arms. He's waiting for you in the area between the automatic glass door and the revolving door outside, a place that is warm with air conditioning but won’t attract nosy people. He wraps you in a hug with his wool jacket. His comforting scent fills your nostrils, a powerful pacifier for your naughty lungs. For the first time this evening, you can finally breathe properly like a normal human being. The rush of fresh air makes you release a loud sob like a newborn baby. The relief of seeing him safely standing in front of you and the release of finally being free from the stressful and stuffy environment ushers more tears to stream down your face.

“Shhhh…..you’re okay now, y/n, safe now. I’m here.” His hand wraps protectively around the back of your head as he plants kisses into your hair. “Poor girl, let’s get to the car and go home.”

Home. Home sounds heavenly to your right now. You couldn’t think of a better combination of these four letters in the whole of human history.

On the way back, you curl into a ball on the passenger seat like a battered puppy. Jake holds your hand whenever he gets the chance, his strong calloused fingers gently massaging yours, tracing the patterns on your palm, his thumb brushing the back of your hand, providing warmth. No longer crying, your shoulders occasionally shudder with involuntary sobs that escape you. But other than that, you are falling into a trance. Your gaze concentrated on Jake’s perfect side profile through hooded eyes, watching in awe as the passing streetlights formed patterns of shadow on his graceful nose and cheeks; your mind numb without a single thought.

It is only when Jake wakes you up that you realize you have fallen asleep. The car is already parked in the garage, the familiar and comforting damp smell seeping in.

“We are home now, sleepyhead.” Jake smiles at you, tapping on your wrist to signal you to wait as he gets out of the car and opens your side of the door. Just as you were about to step off, Jake reaches to cradle you by the shoulders and knees, carrying you bridle-style into the house. You hide your face shyly in the crook of his neck, secretly grateful because your feet are indeed sore in those heels.

Jake puts you down by the shoe rack, motioning you to put your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself as he squats down in front you, holding your ankles and taking off your shoes. If he did see the stains, he didn’t ask any questions, only cooed when he saw the blisters on your heels.

“Let’s go upstairs and get your makeup off, then we’ll cuddle and go to bed, yeah?” Jake stands up, hanging up your coat before cupping your cheeks and placing a kiss on your forehead.

You never hated makeup more than now, regretting to put it on in the first place, now that it has become the annoying barrier lying in your way to bedtime. But Jake says “let’s,” that means he’s going to do it together with you, right?

“Jake?” You whine bashfully.

“Yes, love?”

You tilt up your chin and close your eyes, “One more kissy, please?”

Jake swears he feels a part of his heart melt right there. Who is he to deny you?

“Of course, as many as my princess would like.”

Stepping into the bathroom, Jake sits you on the closed toilet seat. He opens the drawer, grabs your makeup remover and some cotton pads. He applies some liquid onto the wipes and lifts up your chin.

“Close your eyes for me, love.” The cool liquid on your eyelids makes your eyebrows twitch, causing Jake to chuckle, “I know, I know. Just a little longer.”

You sit quietly, mesmerized and hypnotized under his touch. His movements are almost rhythmic. Is this how cats feel when their owners scratches behind their ears? You fear that if you make a sound, you will actually let out a purr.

Jake continues until most of your makeup is gone. “Hold out your hands,” you hear him say and complied. Two dollops of foamy liquid landed in the centre of your palm, and you opened your eyes to recognize they are your face wash. Jake tugs on your wrist, leading you to stand in front of the sink.

“Can you wash your pretty face now, darling? Wash up, and I’ll be back in a minute.”

You nodded, feeling lighter and more relaxed now without your makeup and even more content when you turn on the tap and find out that Jake has already tuned it to a lukewarm temperature for you.

When Jake returned, he was calling you from the bedroom. You have already brushed your teeth and let down your hair.

You walked into the bedroom and are welcomed by the scent of bergamot and sandalwood from your favourite candle glowing on the night stand. Jake was pulling an old T-shirt out from the closet. It was the vintage Joan Jett and The Blackhearts shirt, the patterns half faded, and materials worn-out soft. You saw him laying out one of his boxers for you too. He knows you always prefer them to your own underwear as pyjamas.

“Come sit, angel.” He patted the bench at the foot of the bed, him sitting across from it on a small stool.

It is only when you walked close that you saw the wooden foot spa basin, with clouds of steam rising from it. As you sat down, he gently took your ankle and balanced your feet on the edge of the basin, so that the hot water is steaming your sole.

“It’s still a bit hot.” He looks up to you. “I put Epsom salt and eucalyptus oil in it.”

“Where did you get this?” You feel like the heat from the bottom of the feet is slowly being absorbed into your veins and rising up to your cheeks. You wiggle your toes nervously.

Jake lets out a giggle, “Well, mum suggested once to Josh about the foot spa thing, said it helps with stress and tense muscles. You know, with him running barefoot on stage and all.” He reaches down to sprinkle some water onto your feet, letting you adjust to the temperature. “But Josh got the fancy electric ones. I thought this is better. More authentic, don’t you think?”

“Uh-hmm.”

“Your nails are all chipped,” Jake looks down, “maybe tomorrow we can repaint them? I saw you bought a new colour the other day.”

Tender. So tender. From his tone to his caramel brown eyes. The light from the lamp illuminates the left side of his face, giving it a solemn, smooth glow like a wax statue. Your heart swells; love makes it rise like Soufflé in the oven. The soft surface rises up until it touches your ribcage, threatening to spill those tears again.

“Thank you, Jake.” You dare not raise your voice, fearing that it will break, “I just got a bit overwhelmed at the party, is all.”

Jake eases your feet slowly into the water now that it’s the perfect temperature. The slight sling of your blisters is soon overwhelmed by the all-encompassing warmth that rises all the way to your ankle.

After a few heart beats, he speaks again. “You’ll always have me, y/n. You are allowed to fall, to break. I will be here to catch you, to piece you together. Whatever you need.”

Finally you were snuggled together in bed. You, a human koala, cling to Jake with your face pressed against his chest. His arm snakes around your shoulder, fingers mindlessly tracing your collarbone, strumming some unknown patterns. His heartbeat thumping in your ear, the perfect lullaby. The steady rise and fall of his chest is like waves, rocking you into a sweet slumber. Your eyelids feel heavy like velvet drapes. There’s still a stubborn voice in your brain keeping you from falling asleep. There’s still one more thing you need to do, even though you understood each other perfectly.

“Jake?” Your voice low like a murmur. Jake almost didn’t hear you at first.

“What is it, babe?”

“I love you.” Those words come out as a slur, and like a magic spell, you fall into the deep embrace of sleep as soon as the last syllable leaves your lips. Now clear of any stress and worries in the arms of your lover, the strained string in you brain that has been holding on for dear life the whole evening finally snaps. You’re out like a light.

“I love you back, y/n, through and through.” He whispers into your dream.

You woke up to an empty bed, the sheet on his side still has the human-shaped imprint. Jake is a night owl; it is pretty common that he just gets up in the middle of the night and ends up doing some random things around the house. Most often it’s him strumming the guitar and experimenting with his ideas for new tunes in the home studio downstairs. But you have also caught him fixing chipped paint on the walls, repotting the succulents in the garage, and pouring broth into the crockpot with chicken thighs and smoked ham hock (“so we could have warm chicken chili in the morning!”; to be honest, it’s indeed delicious; you had two bowls and had to skip lunch that day). Just to name a few, so the possibilities are endless.

You get out of bed, creep cross the corridor and tiptoe your way down the stairs. The lights at the doorway are on; you thought Jake forgot to turn them off. However, as you approach, you see Jake squatting down next to the shoe rack, his back towards you, and a brush and some spray bottles laying nearby.

You move closer and see him holding the clothes steamer near your wine-stained shoes. The heels you wore have a suede tip in the front, and unfortunately, that’s where the wine was mostly spilt on. After a few moments, Jake uses the wire brush to clean the surface. He stops from time to time, holding it further to inspect the result.

You waited until he stops again to make some sounds, announcing your presence. Jake immediately turns around. His eyes softens upon seeing you.

“What are you doing up?”

You go to squat down next to him, kissing his temple before resting your head on his shoulder.

“You just bought these not so long ago, yeah? It’d be a shame to leave them stained.” Jake lets more steam soak into the fabric before brushing them again. “I’m almost done. I saw this trick online, and it looks pretty legit.” It’s only then that you noticed his phone on the side, the screen showing the replies from some Reddit post.

“Thank you, baby.” You rub your cheeks slightly on his T-shirt; the feeling of warm pastry once again fills your heart.

“No worries, doll. I think it’s good for now. Let’s leave them here and check in the morning.” Jake starts putting away his tools before pulling you up and wrapping his arm around your waist, leading you back upstairs.

On your way, something familiar catches your eye. You must’ve missed it earlier.

“Wait, where did you get that?” You stop, pointing at what happens to be a whole case of your favourite snack lying on the kitchen counter.

“Oh, I saw the stores are out of them, so I ordered them online. They just arrived today.” Jake scratches his head, his tone tainted with slight disappointment.“I thought they’d be a nice surprise as stocking stuffers, but…”

You stopped him mid-sentence with a kiss.

“I love you.” This time you said it clear against his lips.

“Oh doll, I love you back,” he smiles, showing the cutest wrinkle on his nose. His hands brush your shoulder as you resume your steps upstairs. “Let’s get a few more hours of sleep now. And when you wake up, you will wake up to some yummy pancakes and a pair of stain-free shoes, huh? How does that sound?”

Oh Lord, that sounds heavenly. That sounds just like home.

“I’d like that, Jake. I’d like that very, very much.”

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Thank you for reading :) any comments and feedbacks are greatly welcomed and deeply appreciated

(The stain-removing tips comes from malccy72 on reddit :D

If you also feel like reading a smutty (but also fluffy?) piece🤭: Mariner's Complex || Love is a four-legged word || The Lucky Ones

or some Christmas fluff: Ticked (all my boxes)

[airas-story]

Sequel to this one please

https://www.tumblr.com/airas-story/761153726324064256/hi-i-am-huge-fan-of-your-works-and-how-you-depict?source=share

As requested above, here is the sequel for this one!

“Ha!” Tony jumped out of his chair, eyes bright with delight, as Stephen entered the workshop for their weekly consult.

Stephen felt a smile cross his face helplessly. “I assume you have a reason for being smug?”

Tony’s smirk grew. “JARVIS, fill Stephen in.”

“I am afraid, Doctor Strange, that you have lost your bet.”

Stephen blinked, trying to recall what bet he’d made recently. It hit a moment later. The accountant and the IT tech. “Wait, Drews and Callahan?” 

“Yep.” Tony popped the p. “According to my super secret sources—”

“You mean JARVIS?” Stephen asked, amused.

“—my super secret sources,” Tony repeated, “Drews finally asked Callahan out. Callahan said yes.”

“I really expected better of Callahan,” Stephen said. “I’ve found that IT guys are…” He paused, stretching it out, eyeing Tony pointedly.

Tony pointed a pen at him. “Careful. I’m pretty much an IT guy.”

Stephen smirked. “You said it first. Tony Stark: Glorified IT Guy. Are you going to follow your fellow IT guy’s example, now?”

“His example—” Tony blinked. “What!?”

Stephen swallowed back the sudden butterflies in his throat. “Drews. Callahan. True love.” The words he actually meant went unsaid.

Tony. 

Stephen.

True love.

Tony’s mouth fell open, his eyes widening. “Stephen, are you…”

Stephen didn’t wait for him to figure out what to say. “Or, I suppose, I should even the odds. The IT guy won the last one; I can take this one. Go out with me.”

Tony stared for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Yeah, I think I will.”

“Congratulations to you both,” JARIVS interrupted. “I should thank you, Doctor Strange. DUM-E had bet on Sir, but I had my bet on you.”

Stephen laughed as pure offense crossed Tony’s face. “Wait a minute, J! What do you mean you didn’t bet on me!?”

[alastor-simp]

Watching Horror Movies With Kalim and Vil

Here is part 2 of the dorm leaders watching horror movies with the reader. I could only get Kalim and Vils part done today. Been busy with studying and also having some writers block. Enjoy :)

Kalim Al-Asim☀️ + Stephen King It🤡

☀️This cutie was already saying "yes" before you could even finish your sentence. Kalim loved spending time with you, as he loved learning more about you and how different your world was from his, so the minute you wanted to do something with him, he would always say yes

☀️Asking Kalim over to your dorm was easy enough, but you know telling Jamil would be a struggle. Jamil was hostile towards anyone that gets near Kalim as he knows that many people are after his family for their wealth. He has gotten a bit better after his blot incident and his relationship with Kalim has improved, so maybe there might be a chance for Kalim to come. Surprisingly, Jamil allowed for you to invite Kalim over to your dorm, but to text him if Kalim decided to sleep over,

☀️After leaving Scarabia, you rushed over to your dorm to prepare for the movie night with Kalim. You draped comfortable blankets all over the couch, set up some candles, and prepared a table full of sweets and popcorn for you and him to enjoy. You knew how much Kalim loved coconut, so you made some coconut chocolate bars for him to enjoy.

☀️Kalim had arrived 10 minutes early on his magic carpet. He was too excited about today that he couldn't wait and rushed over. Tackling you in a hug, he thanked you for inviting him for a fun night. He then sat on the couch and asked what exactly were you both going to do. Heading over to the TV, you inserted the movie inside and went back to the couch and sat next to Kalim. You told him you wanted to have a horror movie night and watch a movie that was very popular from your world. Jumping in joy, Kalim hugged you again, letting you know how excited he was about the movie, as he turned towards the screen.

☀️A few minutes into the movie, you turned to see how Kalim was reacting to Georgie talking to It the Clown in the drain. His face was bright and smiling, not really afraid about the creepy clown. "Maybe he likes clowns?" You thought to yourself. The scene then switched to Georgie loosing his hand and being pulled down the drain, that's when you saw Kalim's smile drop, covering his eyes with his hands.

☀️Kalim was not expecting that at all, he thought it was going to be a simple horror movie with some ghosts since he was use to those types of movies, but not this. Kalim never thought a clown could be so terrifying after watching that scene.

☀️Kalim was cowering in fear, grasping the pillow so tightly as if he was choking it. Leaning in closer towards you, he bumped his shoulders next to yours, seeking some comfort. Draping your arm behind Kalim, you pulled him closer and had him lay his head on your lap. You felt very guilty for how scared Kalim was from the movie, so you decided the best you could do was comfort him as you both continued to watch the movie. Placing your hand on his white hair, you petted his head, silently telling him it was okay.

☀️Relaxing, Kalim adjusted on your lap, leaning his head more towards your hand, wanting more pets. All of his fear had vanished out of thin air, your kind actions making him relax. The movie continued to play, and there were some moments where you felt Kalim twitch on your lap, mostly like jumping in fear from the jump scares in the movie, but he was more calmer then he was before. Reaching towards the table, you handed Kalim one of the coconut bars and told him to enjoy them, as nothing beats eating sweet treats when watching a scary movie

☀️Flavors of chocolate and coconut filled his mouth, making Kalim hum in delight, he thanked you for the treat and reached his hand for a couple more, handing one to you as well. The movie continued to play, showing the losers club defeating It and overcoming their fears. The end credits started to play and you grabbed the remote and turned the TV off. Leaning up a bit from the couch, you asked Kalim if he enjoyed the movie, but silence was all you got as a response. Worryingly, you wondered if Kalim was upset at you for putting on a horror movie, You tapped his head, asking him if he was okay, but then you heard the sound of him snoring.

☀️He had gotten so comfortable, laying on your lap that he fallen asleep. Chuckling to yourself, you pet his head again, then grabbed one of the blankets from the couch and draped it over him. Not wanting to wake him up, you decided to stay in that position on the couch. You grabbed your phone and texted Jamil to let him know that Kalim was sleeping over, and that you would bring Kalim back in the morning. Turning off your phone, you placed your head back against the couch, getting ready to fall asleep, but not before placing your hand back on Kalim's head.

Vil Schoenheit🪞 + Child's Play🔪

🪞A hard "no" was what you were expecting when you asked Vil. You having "the Vil Schoenheit" at your dorm watching a horror movie with you, the chances of that having were a million to one. You knew Vil was a actor, a model, and a internet celebrity, and he has probably seen and acted in so many movies, that watching a horror movie was probably not going to affect him in any way, but you still wanted to spend time with him.

🪞Before, Vil would have downright reject you and walked away without a care in the world. After the events of his overblot, his impression of you had changed dramatically, he saw how courageous you were when dealt with certain situations, including the overblots yet you had a heart of gold and still forgave everyone including him after the events. You were the one that told him that there was more to him then just his beauty, letting him know that if he ever needed a time to just relax and get away from the spotlight for a minute, he could come to you.

🪞Vil was left stunned after you said that to him, and slowly but surely he started to admire you and consider you a good friend, but he really wish you would follow through on your beauty routines, cause he knew there was nothing worse then dealing with dry skin and your dorm did not help with that, despite having remodeled it. Vil noticed you fidgeting in front of him, twiddling your fingers in front of him, cheeks aflame. Chucking at your cute actions, Vil agreed to the movie night, but he reminded you that they both had to go to bed at a certain time since lack of sleep wasn't good for your health. Nodding your head at Vil, he smiled and patted your head, before strutting away.

🪞After classes ended, you ran towards Ramshackle and started to get ready for your movie night with Vil. You wanted it to be perfect so you had gotten the softest blankets and draped them over the couch. You had set up some scented candles, to add a little effect during the movie, but also give off a refreshing scent for you and Vil to relax with. Knowing how strict Vil is with what he eats, you banned using sweets and decided to make some fruit and veggie trays with dip along with some freshly made smoothies, as they were Vil's favorite.

🪞Hearing a knock from the door, you rushed towards the door, opening it to see Vil standing outside, dressed in fancy lounge wear, and holding a bag that looked to contain beauty products and face masks. Vil came aside, thanking you for opening the door, along with saying if they were going to have a movie night, might as well include some self care activities as well. Both of you headed towards the living room, and got comfortable. Vil gave you a look of approval at the food on the table as he was satisfied that you didn't include any junk food, even giving you a kiss on the cheek as a thank you when you handed him his smoothie.

🪞After painting your nails and putting on some face masks, you and Vil laid back on the couch, as you pressed play on the remote, starting the movie. Vil seemed a little surprised as he didn't recognize this movie before, but when you told him that it was a horror classic from your world, he just nodded and turned back to the screen.

🪞Few minutes into the movie, Vil wasn't very satisfied with the movie, he did like the atmosphere of the movie, but he didn't it all that scary, and already knew that the killer was the child, Andy. The movie proved Vil wrong, as the doll was the killer and had come to life when the mother of the movie confronted the living doll, and reacted by attempting to kill her. This shook Vil a bit as he couldn't imagine a inanimate object, coming to life and killing everyone.

🪞He was starting to enjoy the movie bit by bit and started to apperciate the little things in the movie, including the actor who voiced the doll, "Chucky." He turned towards you and saw you clutching on to the pillow, shaking in fear. Smiling softly, he pulled you closer towards him, having you lean against his chest, but not to close as you still on the face mask on. You thanked Vil and proceeded to watch the movie as it was nearing towards the ending.

🪞Chucky was finally shot and killed by the detective in the movie, but not before saying "Hi, I'm Chucky. Wanna play?" line. The credits started to roll and you relaxed, happy the movie was over. "You have seen this movie before, correct? Surely you knew what to expect when you watched it again?" Vil said, as he was watching you take the face mask on your face. You told Vil that even despite having seen the movire before, the main villain still scared you as it had frightened you so much when you were younger .

🪞Vil laughed, shaking his head at you, finding your reasoning adorable. After he had removed his face mask, he headed back to the living room, seeing you lay down and place a blanket over yourself. Questioning what you were doing, you told Vil that he probably wouldn't like sleeping on the couch, so you offered him your bed.

🪞Not satisfied with your reasoning, Vil arched a finger at you, telling you to come towards him. Getting up from the couch, you walked towards Vil, as he grabbed your hand and walked with you towards the bedroom. Entering your room, Vil had you sit on the bed, but not before turning you face up towards him, by lifting your chin with his hand. "I will not have you sleep on the couch. We can share the bed." Vil said, as he removed his hand from your chin, turning off the bedroom lights and making his way to the other side of the bed.

🪞Realizing that you had no choice in the matter, you got under the covers, turning to the side, with your back facing Vil. Shuffling sounds could be heard, as you felt Vil move around on the bed. Arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer to Vil. as his chest was against your back. Flushing, you realized he was spooning you but you said nothing and continued to lay in your position.

🪞Breathing sounds could be heard next to you, as Vil positioned his head against yours. Vil leaned closer, whispering into your ear "Thank you for tonight, Y/N. I really enjoyed it." Blushing, you told Vil you were happy he had fun, as you relaxed your body, getting cozy in his embrace. Couple of minutes went by and the both of you fell asleep on the bed.

[infiniteeight8]

ironstrange meet fem!ironstrange

I’m jumping all around the queue right now. Apologies to the folks who are having to wait a bit longer, but the muse is being slippery right now.

-

Tony kept a wary eye on the pairs of Tonys and Stephens that were wandering around the compound's common area. “I never thought I’d say this,” he muttered to his own Stephen, “but this is officially too much me.”

Stephen chuckled. “Relax. Our universes will all naturally separate in an hour or two.”

“Still too— Oh, that’s interesting.” Tony caught Stephen by the arm and pulled him across the room, a little afraid he’d lose track of which one was his amongst all the doppelgangers. “Hello there,” he said to the pair he’d approached.

“Oh, Christ,” said the Tony, rolling her eyes. “This is your first time meeting a female alternate, isn’t it?”

“Of course it is,” the female Stephen’s voice was dry. “They always have the same look.”

Tony’s back stiffened. He gave his alternate a long look up and down. “You know,” he said, “I actually think I’m hotter as a man.”

“Tony—” That was his own Stephen sounding a little exasperated.

Turning to look at his Stephen, Tony paused, then looked at the female Stephen and back to his. “You are also hotter as a man.”

Stephen’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

Female Stephen jumped in. “It’s the bone structure,” she said. “Male Tonys always expect it to look better on a woman.”

“Which it does,” female Tony insisted, sliding an arm around her partner’s waist.

“It doesn’t,” Tony told his Stephen, who was still glaring at him. The glare did not soften. “Come on,” Tony wheedled. “You can’t honestly say that you’ve never tried to picture me as a woman.”

Stephen started to speak, then shut his mouth, the glare falling away. “Okay, yes, I have,” he admitted. “But I’ll have you know that I already thought you were hotter as a man.”

Tony opens his mouth to say, Failure of imagination, before realizing that would probably just land him right back in hot water. “Good,” he said instead, “because I don’t think trading is an option.” The female versions of them had already moved off, impatient with a conversation they’d apparently had more than a few times.

“I know exactly which Tony Stark I want,” Stephen said, smiling slightly.

Tony smiled back and settled an arm around his Stephen.

[bit-dodgy-innit]

The More The Merrier - Part One

Set in The Shape of Youniverse

Summary: Doctor Strange’s wedding gift allows you and your husband to fulfill your wildest fantasies 

Pairing: Marc x afab!reader, Steven x afab!reader and Jake x afab!reader, Reader is married to the system 

Word Count: 3.3k 

Rating: Mature (for now!)

CW/TW: Mentions of pregnancy, reader experiences anxiety and mild body insecurity, Marc is ~protective~ and not afraid to threaten violence to protect his fam, discussions of group sex, making out  

A/N: Okay y’all! Everyone loved Group Effort so I thought there was no better way to celebrate 1000 followers than to write a follow up! I am currently burnt to a crisp creatively, HOWEVER I figure if I post what I have so far this lovely community’s support and reactions may just invigorate me to get the rest of this naughtiness out! 

Translations at the end of the fic as usual!

You thought you were dreaming. You must have been, because why else would Doctor Strange be in your living room talking to your husband? The sound of voices had awoken you, and when you saw that Marc’s side of the bed was empty, you followed the hushed but heated voices to their source. 

You could hear Marc insisting lowly, “I told you I can’t…”

“And I told you his new avatar is miss–”

“Honey?” You interrupted, your voice raspy from sleep, “What’s going on?”

You’d rubbed just enough sleep from your eyes to be able to take in the sight before you. Marc, in his pajamas, mid-argument with Doctor Strange, red cape and all. 

You blinked furiously. Up until that very moment, all of Marc’s stories about being the white knight dude–Moon Knight, he told you he’d been called, were just that. Stories. You liked it that way. That way, there was plausible deniability. Seeing him talking to an Avenger in your flat made things startlingly real. 

“Go back to bed sweetheart,” your husband urged you, trying and failing to keep his mounting frustration from bleeding into his tone. 

Like hell you were going back to sleep. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” Marc answered immediately. His pointed look to the Avenger meant that Strange wasn’t going to divulge anything either. 

“Sorry to wake you, Mrs. Spector,” the sorcerer offered instead. 

“I’m not going anywhere until one of you tells me why he’s here in the middle of the night,” you informed both men plainly. It was perplexing to think that the men in charge of your planet’s safety, like Doctor Strange and your husband, were such shit liars.

“It’s Khonshu--” Strange began. 

“He’s retired,” you interjected. Your husband resuming his superhero activities, especially when you’d just found out you were pregnant a few weeks ago, was your worst nightmare. 

“I know,” he assured you, “I had a question for Marc, that’s all.” 

“And I told him that I can’t be involved with any of this shit, in any capacity,” your husband fumed, “Twice now.” 

“Well excuse me,” the sorcerer snarked, “and here I thought you’d become a consultant.” 

You couldn't stifle the giggle that Strange’s comment brought forth. Marc bristled, “Please sweetie, will you wait for me in the bedroom? I’ll show Stephen out.” 

Hearing that your husband was on a first-name basis with an Avenger made your head swim. You nodded, but didn’t completely comply, going only so far as the hallway so you could eavesdrop on them unseen.

“Did I just get you into trouble?” Strange inquired. 

“Yes,” your husband confirmed. “Out of everything wrong with me, her only hang-ups are my ex-wife and the avatar shit, so summon one of those portal things before I have to kick you out myself.” 

“Wow, okay, so Steven’s the one with the manners then,” he noted wryly. 

Marc sighed so deeply you could hear it from across the flat. “How many times do I have to say–”

“Congratulations by the way.” 

Your heart dropped. Did he know? He couldn’t know. You were nowhere near showing, how on earth could he know? Doctor Strange flew and did magic and traversed the multiverse, but there was no way he could tell that you were pregnant, was there?

“I’ll tear you limb from limb and rent your stupid cloak out for birthday parties,” Marc threatened in a snarl, “I didn’t want anyone knowing that we're together, let alone that we’re expecting. If that information leaves your lips, so help me–”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Strange promised him, “though it explains why I can’t convince you.” 

“Use that forgetting spell on yourself,” your husband ordered. 

“I’ll do you one better,” the sorcerer offered, “I’ll put you two under the protection of the London Sanctum. It’ll keep her safe while we sort all of this out…though it’d go a lot quicker if you–”

“Want me to re-introduce you to Jake?” Marc growled. 

Now it was Strange’s turn to sigh. “You realize you don’t have the suit anymore, right?”

“Nunca lo necesité,” the man in question interceded, “Disfrutaría el desafío.”

“You really love her, don’t you?” the Avenger observed. 

“She’s the reason I left Khonshu,” Marc confessed. After observing him so tight-lipped and protective about your relationship to Strange just now, your husband’s candor shocked you. 

“I’d say you traded up,” the sorcerer remarked archly. 

 Marc stood firm. “Yeah, and I’m not looking to downgrade anytime soon.”

“Can’t blame you. Well Marc, it’s always a…time.”

The faint hum of what you assumed was the magic he conjured for the portals Strange used alerted you to scamper back to the bed and dive under the covers, so that when Marc returned you could convincingly feign sleep. Moments later, you felt the mattress dip under his weight and his arms wrap around your waist from behind. 

“Are you mad at me?” came his timid question, murmured into your hair.  

You didn’t open your eyes. “That you told Doctor Strange to fuck off for the sake of our marriage? For our family? No, hun.” 

“I’m sorry,” he apologized anyway, “I hate how that this part of my past won’t let me go.” 

“This wasn’t your fault and you didn't get involved,” you pointed out, implicitly urging him to let it go. “Can we go back to sleep? Need to rest up for my inevitable morning vomit sesh.” 

Marc held your tighter and pressed a kiss to a notch of your spine. “‘Course baby.”

You weren’t exactly proud of how quick you were to brush the encounter off, but being a newlywed and a surprise pregnancy meant you had enough on your plate. There wasn’t any mental or emotional space to entertain the thought of your ex-avatar husband having to risk his life to ensure your, your unborn baby, and Earth’s safety, because if you did, the Hulk would look like a teddy bear in comparison to the state it’d send you in.  

Luckily, Marc was even better at sweeping uncomfortable moments under the rug than you were. You didn’t give the late-night meeting with Doctor Strange a second thought until a few weeks later when you glimpsed a headline about another global calamity averted emblazoned across a fellow Tube passenger’s copy of The Guardian. Your first trimester made you incredibly motion sick, so you had to look away and deep breathe at once, since the last thing anyone wanted on their morning commute was a woman spewing all over the car. 

Work served as the perfect distraction, until you received a particularly cryptic and distressing text from your husband mid-afternoon.

From: Hubby 

Can you come home please? 

From me:

Now? Are you alright?!

From Hubby: 

Yes, I’m fine. Just need you to come home right away. 

You huffed. That answered absolutely nothing and only made you more anxious. The periods at the ends of his sentences were a dead giveaway as to which alter you were texting with, so you pressed: 

From me:

What’s wrong Marc? 

From Hubby:

Everything’s fine, I promise. 

From me: 

Are you sick? 

The three dots appeared that he was typing, but you’d already sprung from your desk chair at that point. You hurried over to a superior’s office to let them know you were leaving early, claiming a spousal emergency, and you didn’t even wait for a proper response from your boss before you returned to your office, collected your things, and dashed for the door. 

From me: 

Just told Graham I’m heading home. I’ll be there soon!! Do I need to call 999? Harry? Dr. Moorhead???? 

Marc never asked for help. He'd rather eat all ten toes. It was a point of contention in your relationship, something you were working through, so the fact he’d texted you in the middle of the afternoon asking you to come home freaked you the fuck out. You’d just gotten into a taxi - it’d be faster than the Tube this time of day - when he finally responded. 

From Hubby:

No. See you soon. 

You slammed your fist, still wrapped around the rectangle of your phone, down against the upholstered seat in the cab. If Marc was alive when you got home, you were going to kill him. 

After one of the most fraught cab rides of your life, you breathlessly burst through the door of your flat. “MARC?! Jake?! Steven?! You okay?” 

Your husband sat on the couch, appearing to be perfectly well. “Hi baby.” 

You rushed to him, instantly putting the back of your hand to his forehead to check his temperature. “What’s wrong? God, would it kill you to tell me what’s going on? I nearly gave myself an ulcer on the way here.” 

Marc caught your hand and brought your palm to his lips, murmuring “I’m sorry” into the skin there.

“Is someone going to tell me what the fuck is happening here?” you demanded. 

“It’s okay, everything’s okay baby,” he tried to soothe you. 

“Then why did you send me those vague bloody texts telling me to come home ASAP?” 

A sound from the bedroom momentarily distracted you before Marc captured your other hand in his grasp and gently tugged you to take a seat next to him. He continued to apologize, “I’m sorry, so sorry baby. We didn’t know how else to do it, plus we wanted it to be a surprise.”

You regarded him warily. “For what to be a surprise?” 

“Remember when Stephen – well, Doctor Strange came here?” 

“Of course I do.” 

“Well, he um…he knew you were pregnant–I didn’t tell him, he just…I don’t know he mystically sensed it or something–and he felt bad about implicating you in our business. I ended up helping him–nothing really, just told him some stuff he wanted to know about my time as Khonshu’s avatar, and he wanted to thank me–well us, I guess? He said to consider it a belated wedding or early–”

“Ay…I think I’ve missed a birthday with how long you’re taking!” 

This was it. Forget your husband’s mental health struggles, you’d officially had a psychotic break. Because Jake had interrupted your conversation by walking into the room. In a separate body. 

“Fucking hell!! You couldn’t wait thirty more seconds?!” Marc snapped at him. 

Thank goodness you were already sitting down. The room swam. Your husband – wait, husbands?-- kept bickering with each other while you stared at them, glassy-eyed and slack-jawed. 

“No voy a perder otro segundo teniendo que escucharte un parloteo. No tenemos todo el día aquí.”

“What the fuck is going on?” you asked yourself in an awestruck whisper. 

“Honey?” Marc turned to you, “you’re okay.”

“Todo esta bien,” Jake added, rushing to your other side. 

You were grateful that there were two of them, otherwise you would’ve collapsed. The thought made you laugh. Wow, you’d lost your mind with a stunning efficiency it seemed. 

“Sweetheart, can you hear me?” Marc’s eyes searched yours, desperate for you to focus. 

“Uh huh.” 

“What este pendejo was trying to say,” Jake interjected, “is that el doctor did a spell where we all get our own body for twenty-four hours.” 

“He can do that?” It was a stupid question, given that you were surrounded by two of your husbands, but your brain was all but fried. 

“See! This is why I wanted to do it like this! We needed to ease her in!!” Marc lamented. 

“Where’s Steven?” you asked. He had to be here somewhere too, right? 

“You can come out now!” Marc hollered toward the kitchen, and lo and behold, the last third of your husband shuffled into view, complete with his individual body as well.  

“Why am I always the only one who follows the plan?” Steven complained, then after taking one look at your ashen face, joined his counterparts tending to you. “Oh darling, are you alright? Sorry, I know this all must come as a terrible shock. You want me to put the kettle on? Make you a cuppa?”

“The only thing that could help me right now is a stiff drink, which I obviously can’t have because of…” you trailed off and gestured to your midsection. 

“Right, sorry. Marc and I wanted to do this differently, but leave it to Jake to muck things up, as per usual,” he groused. 

“Oye, vete a la mierda pequeño–”

Marc tried to stop them. “Shut up, both of you, this isn’t hel–”

“Oh my God is this what the inside of your head is like?” you wondered aloud, unable to squash a delirious chuckle. 

“Yes,” Steven confirmed, trying to maintain composure, “a small sampling of it, I’m afraid.” 

Your chuckling escalated to full-on unhinged laughter. What else were you to do when each of your husbands were given their own body and argued in front of you?

“Am I high? Or at the very least awake?” 

“No and yes,” Marc replied. 

“So this is why I had to come home early,” you surmised. 

“Sí, we only have twenty-four hours, and we weren’t going to waste anymore on waiting when we could–”

“We could what?” 

“Well, with the baby coming, naturally our sex life is going to take a hit,” Marc said, “so, this seemed like a perfect, one-in-a-lifetime opportunity to um…fulfill some fantasies.”

“You faked an emergency and made me ditch work so we could all have group sex?” 

Steven groaned, “It sounds so tawdry when you put it like that.” 

Marc buried his head in his hands, but Jake puffed up his chest. “Por qué no? Vas a trabajar cada día, ¡pero tal vez nunca volvamos a estar así!”

“No one is touching me…” you protested, heaving a labored breath as overwhelmed tears brimmed in your eyes. “No one is touching me until you all apologize! Properly! You scared the shit out of me just now! You can’t…you can't keep me in the dark like that…I can’t take the stress between your past and the baby and work…it’s too much! So guess what? The last thing I want to do right now is have sex!” 

Three flummoxed faces of concern stared back at you as they each realized they’d severely miscalculated the reveal. Apparently you looked so pathetic it dispelled any of their urges to argue about it, the reminder that you were pregnant seemingly enough to shut them up and send them straight to contrition. Plus, they were probably still hopeful they could get some action later if they apologized right away. 

“I’m sorry baby,” Marc began, pulling you to his chest, “We wanted this to be fun, but…”

“Somos estúpidos,” Jake finished for him, “Even with separate bodies, we all think with the head between our legs.”   

Steven spoke next, “Take all the time you need, my love. We don’t even have to…do anything naughty. We just want to be with you like…as…as us.” 

“Uh, no. We have to fuck,” Jake disagreed. 

Before you could snipe back at Jake, you remembered something Marc had told you about the last time they were separated. Their entire journey through the Duat, Jake had been trapped in a sarcophagus. Despite being married to them, you couldn’t begin to imagine what it would be like to share your body, your life, with two other people the way they did. 

So of course having a body of your own, especially if there was a clock on it, would be a momentous occasion, and it warmed your heart in a funny, roundabout way that Jake wanted to share this precious time with you as intimately as possible. 

Therefore, you found yourself cackling at his remark. The three of them watched you dumbstruck. 

“I think we broke her,” Marc muttered under his breath. 

When you finally regained your breath and a modicum of your senses back, you proposed, “How about this…we make an early dinner to fuel up for um…the night ahead, shall we say? It’ll give me some time to adjust. Deal?”

It took about an hour, but you did calibrate to having multiple husbands in your flat. Jake and Marc were parked on the couch flipping between games on the telly and arguing over scores, players, and stats while Steven and you camped in the kitchen. 

Steven had volunteered to make dinner, and you instantly offered to assist him, figuring that keeping your hands busy would help quiet your racing mind. The pair of you chopped vegetables and, in everyone but Steven’s case, chicken, to make a soup that would be hearty enough to sustain any physical exertion later but light enough so as not to hinder it. 

“This is bizarre, innit?” Steven asked while he stirred the broth. 

“Bizarre doesn't even begin to cover it,” you confessed. “I mean, I know crazy superhero magic shit like this happens, but never to me.”

“When Marc first told me he served Khonshu, I thought it was the stupidest thing I’d ever heard.” 

You laughed at Steven’s frankness. “I love you.” 

“Love you too,” he echoed, his face splitting into a beatific grin. The two of you leaned across the stove to kiss each other. Neither of you hurried to break it. In fact, Steven slipped his tongue between the seam of your lips, while you turned to wrap your arms around him properly. 

You nearly forgot the other two men were there until you were both startled apart by Jake whistling and crowing, “Ey! Save it for later!” 

“Entonces vas a ayudarnos con la comida?” you shot back at him without any real heat.  

Several moments transpired while you ate in which you lapsed into an astonished silence. Though you were no stranger to your husband being co-conscious, there was something even more wondrous about all three of them having to interrupt each other to speak, though despite their separate bodies, each man tended to talk over the other still. 

Marc and Jake were put on cleanup duty, and Steven captured you in his arms once again. He dotted kisses from your clavicle, up the length of your neck, culminating at the extra sensitive spot behind your right ear. “How do you want to do this?” 

You mewled at the pressure of his lips on your skin. “Mmmm, I wanna take a shower and primp a bit. Marc had a point earlier, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity, might as well make the most of it, right?” 

“Whatever you want,” he rumbled into your ear. You could feel Steven’s cock stir as he pressed himself into you. 

A devilish smirk danced across your lips. “Wanna look extra fuckable for all of you.” 

“Bloody hell, babe,” Steven’s hips stuttered against your leg. He leaned in to kiss you more, but you dodged him, instead scampering away toward the bathroom and throwing a cheeky look over your shoulder. 

Beyond the fact that you knew that Jake would want to fuck you in the ass and you needed to prepare accordingly, it occurred to you that your insistence on getting dolled up was just as much for your benefit as it was for your partners. You were about to be more vulnerable than you’d ever been in a sexual situation, and though it was with the people you loved and trusted most in the world, sometimes confidence was best found from the outside-in. So you shaved your legs, styled your hair, made up your face, and slipped into the lingerie that you’d grabbed from your dresser before you retreated into the en-suite. 

You examined the finished product of your efforts in the mirror. Your bump wasn’t quite a bump yet at just over twelve weeks, you just looked perennially bloated. You tried to smooth the frown from your face, reminding yourself that you weren’t fat, but instead growing a little life inside of you, the culmination of you and your husband’s love. Nevertheless, you adjusted the straps of the microscopic thong you’d squeezed yourself into to try and create a more flattering shape. After fluffing your hair one more time, you decided you were as ready as you’d ever be.

READ PART TWO 

A/N: Eh? We like? Y’all are always so encouraging but if you feel compelled to leave any feedback I could really use it this time around!!! 

Translations:

Nunca lo necesité - I never needed it

Disfrutaría el desafío - I will enjoy the challenge

No voy a perder otro segundo teniendo que escucharte un parloteo. No tenemos todo el día aquí - I'm not going to waste another second having to listen to you babble. We don't have all day here

Todo esta bien - Everything is ok

Este pendejo - This asshole

Oye, vete a la mierda pequeño - Hey, look here you little shit

Por qué no? Vas a trabajar cada día, ¡pero tal vez nunca volvamos a estar así! - Why not? You go to work every day, but we may never be like this again!

Somos estupidos - We’re stupid

Entonces vas a ayudarnos con la comida - Then are you going to help us with the food?

Taglist:

@twwcs​, @rmoonstoner​, @hot-mess-express1​, @murdickdocked, @toracainz​, @saahmi, @unspokenmoon​, @winterbiipp​, @avatarofseshat​ @ilikeoldermenhelp, @losers-club6​, @harrys-tittie​, @ninebluehearts​, @lucianadraven32​, @dawnsutopia​, @strawberry1042-blog @nikitawolfxo​, @weirdo125 @damnzelsoul​ @missmarmaladeth​ @welcometostayingawake​ @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction​, @thatgirlshady​

[saltscorner]

Coffee shop au Scollace

4.8k words

Ao3 link:

Holy shit. Holy shiiiit

Scott really screwed up this time.

He had spent the whole day playing the new Sonic game and completely forgot about band practice today.

Well, he knew in his mind that he should’ve started preparing, but he couldn’t help it. He kept glancing nervously at the clock between levels. He watched the hands slowly tick closer and closer to six o’clock but he figured he’d be able to play at least one more level before needing to leave. Suddenly one level turned into two and next thing he knew, it was fifteen past six.

He slammed his controller down and threw on his shoes clumsily. His heels stuck out and his shoes were lazily tied together but he didn’t have the time to fix it, it was just Kim and Stephen after all, he didn’t have to impress them. He grabbed his coat off the hanger and pushed his scrawny arms through the arm holes a bit rushed.

Scott threw his bass bag over his shoulder and slammed open the door and locked it in a rush before hurrying out.

Of course this would happen to him on the one day he actually needed to do something important. His phone was already blowing up in his pocket, vibrating so much that he was afraid it was going to explode. The snow slushed under his converse as he carefully grabbed his phone out of his pocket, taking a shaky breath to prepare himself to face Kim’s scolding.

Sure enough, there were dozens of missed calls from Kim and angry messages shouting obscenities so foul that Scott winced as if he was actually facing the redhead’s wrath. He dialed her number, shaking his hands in the air to try and heat it up so he could control his hand a bit more.

The phone began to ring and Kim picked up almost immediately. Scott’s life flashed before his eyes a little bit when she started to scream in his ear. “SCOTT,” She screamed, almost bursting his eardrums. Maybe it was a mistake to put her on speakerphone. He carefully pulled the phone far away from his ear as he winced in pain and rubbed the back of his neck to soothe himself.

“Heyyyyy Kim,” He dragged out the greeting in an attempt to sound casual and nonchalant. Keyword, he attempted. He sounded almost pathetic, his voice high pitched and laced with nervous energy. Even he cringed at how the words came out of his mouth.

“Where the hell are you? Practice was supposed to start fifteen minutes ago.”

“Yeah well, you know what they say, it’s better to be fashionably late, right?” Scott chuckled a bit to lessen the tension between them. He could hear her sigh from the other line.

“You completely forgot didn’t you?” She deadpanned, he forgot how easily she could see through him. He was caught.

“Come on, Kim,” He kicked a particularly hard piece of snow. Or was it ice now? Didn’t matter. “I wouldn’t say I forgot, I just lost track of time,” he exclaimed defensively. He didn’t mean to forget, he was just too caught up with the game. So it wasn’t really his fault, right? It’s the game developers’ fault for making the game so addictive.

Scott shook his head to knock some sense into himself. How could he blame Sonic? Sonic did nothing wrong.

“Alright, listen,” he toyed in his mind with the types of responses that would be less likely to get his ass kicked into tomorrow. But knowing Kim, there was no winning either way here. “How about I get us some coffee or something? Stacey works at Second Cup now, I’m sure I can get us a discount. It’ll be on me.”

After a beat of silence, Scott was starting to get a bit anxious about how she would respond. “Fine. Stephen wants his coffee with a few pumps of vanilla and you better get me a cup of whatever holiday drink they have now.”

“Yes!” Scott pumped his hand in the air victoriously. “But if you mess this up, Scott, I promise I will shove my drumsticks so far down your throat that you’ll be tasting my wrath for the rest of your pathetic life,” she threatened him.

Scott shivered and let out a nervous hum of approval before hanging up.

That could have gone smoother.

He sighed and shoved his hands into the pockets of his parka to warm himself up as he approached the coffee shop. He was lucky it was on the way to practice or else he was sure that he would be dead by now.

The shop was brightly lit and decorated in wreaths that were covered in the show that fell the prior week. It looked as cozy as a chain company can look. But beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Scott took a hand out of his pockets and opened the door, struggling slightly before realizing it was a pull door. He let out a defeated sigh before stepping into the store. The smell of roasted coffee beans hit his nose all at once which made it scrunch up, it was far too strong.

He walked up to the counter and fumbled with his jean pockets in frustration to try and get his wallet out before ordering. He smiled and looked up to the barista who would be serving him. He expected to see the disappointed face of his younger sister but his eyes widened when he realized he didn’t.

Instead, Scott found himself face to face with a taller male. He looked up a bit to see how this new guy was. Scott doesn’t think he’s ever seen this guy before, but then again he only ever comes when his sister is on the shift. This foreign guy had black hair that reached a little under his ears. He was wearing a warm sweater that had a white button up underneath it. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. He seemed to be crossing his arms. His dark eyes were staring at Scott in annoyance.

“Hello? Are you there, guy?” The guy asked, waving a face in front of Scott’s face to get his attention. “Are you going to order or do I have to chase you out with the broom?” He asked with a raised eyebrow, clearly not in the mood to deal with dumb customers. He pointed his thumb back at the broom behind him.

Scott realized he was staring for far too long and he felt his face heat up in embarrassment. He let out a nervous chuckle. And started to open his mouth and close it again as he tried to speak but no good words were coming out.

The barista chuckled a bit and put his hands on his hips as he watched the shorter male stumble on his words. “Easy there, guy. I asked for your order, not for the meaning of life.” Scott finally met the gaze of this barista and gulped deeply before starting again.

“Right, yeah, you’re right.” Scott clenched his parka in an attempt to calm the racing of his heart. “One coffee with pumps of vanilla,” Scott started to shift on his heels. He had no clue why it was so hard to stay calm around this new barista. He’s come here thousands of times and has never been this nervous around a new worker. “And another of the uh…”

He scanned the menu in panic trying to find something Kim would like. “What is your best holiday drink?” He asked the barista with an apologetic look written all over his face.

The barista just smirked a bit and responded, “Peppermint macchiato, normally I hate making those things but I think I’ll make an exception for you.” Scott’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his comment but just nodded his head slowly as he ordered.

“What name should I put for the order?” The barista asked as he rang him up.

“Oh! Scott, the name is Scott,” Scott tried to give him a smile but it was a bit wobbly.

The barista looked Scott up and down a bit before smirking down at him. “Cute name, I’ll get it out for you in a minute, handsome.” With that, he winked at him which confused Scott.

Scott paid for the drinks and leaned against a table awkwardly as he waited for them to be finished being made. He always hated this part of ordering out. He started to think back on what the barista was saying to him.

Maybe he was just being friendly? Scott decided to go with that explanation before his thoughts were interrupted with the barista calling out his name.

As the barista handed Scott his drinks, Scott couldn’t help but look at the name tag on his sweater. Wallace. That was his name, huh? “Oh er, thank you, Wallace! Have a good night,” he waved his hand before running out of the shop and making his way to practice.

Wallace.

Yeah. Scott thinks he could get used to seeing him there more often.

Scott finally got to practice and jiggled the knob with his free hand before he finally got it open and he stepped inside. There he saw his bandmates sitting there messing with their instruments. They turned their heads towards the noise of the door shutting and Stephen’s face lit up at the sight of his coffee. He swiftly grabbed his cup and blew on it before taking a sip of it with a satisfied smile.

Kim, on the other hand, did not look quite as impressed and was not as easily as pleased as Stephen was.

Scott nervously handed Kim her requested drink, hoping the peppermint macchiato that Wallace requested would somewhat make up for his tardiness. She snatched the cup angrily and eyed it carefully before she glared at Scott critically and scanned him up and down. She took a deliberate sip of her drink before looking at the cup and grunting a bit in approval.

"Alright, Pilgrim. You might have just saved yourself from a drumstick-induced demise. But this better not become a habit," she warned, pointing the coffee stirrer at him like a tiny weapon, threatening him a bit before taking another sip.

Scott nodded frantically, relieved that the coffee peace offer seemed to be working. As they settled into their band practice, the tension lifted, and the familiar chords of their music filled the room.

He couldn’t help but stumble over a few cords but he tried to get back on track. There was no way that he could mess up twice in one day and keep his life. Yet, in the back of Scott's mind, he couldn't shake the image of Wallace, the charming barista with the smirk and the wink.

At the end of the song, Scott looked at his bandmates expectantly, waiting to hear what song they wanted to play next. Instead, they were both looking at Scott like he had grown two heads. They have always looked at him a bit weird but this was weird, even for them.

“What?” Scott asked as he gripped his bass closer to his chest. His eyes darted between the two, looking at their strange expressions. “Do I have something on my face?” He exclaimed while covering his face, trying to wipe whatever might be on it off. He was growing anxious by their unusual silence.

“You kind of sucked that last song, man,” Stephen said, biting his lip anxiously and fidgeting with the mic, moving it up and down. “Like we usually suck but not that bad.”

“Sorry guys, I’m just a bit distracted,” Scott mumbled apologetically, messing with the strings on his instrument as he spoke.

Kim let out an exasperated sigh and leaned back against her drum set. "Distracted? Really, Scott? We have a gig next week, and you're 'distracted'? What's going on?"

Scott shifted uncomfortably, glancing around the practice space as if the answers to Kim's questions were written on the walls. He hesitated for a moment, then decided to spill the beans about his encounter with Wallace at the coffee shop.

"So, I was running late because of this Sonic game, right? And I thought I'd make it up by grabbing coffee for everyone. There's this new barista, Wallace. Tall, dark hair, and he's got this... you know…smirky thing going on. Anyway, I got us some drinks, and he called me 'handsome' and winked. Now I can't get him out of my head. But not in a gay way you know. Just like…a confused way.”

Stephen burst into laughter, nearly dropping his guitar pick but he picked it up before it fell. "Dude, you're distracted by a barista? That's the most Scott thing I've ever heard."

Kim rolled her eyes, but a small smirk played on her lips. "Alright, Sonic fanboy, get your head in the game. We've got a gig to prep for, and if you mess this up because of some barista, I swear I'll make you listen to Justin Bieber for a month straight."

Scott gulped, realizing the gravity of the situation. "Okay, okay. I'll focus. No more distractions. Promise."

They continued to practice and it went a lot smoother, mostly out of fear of Kim’s threats. But, Scott couldn’t shake the thought of Wallace away still. He figured it would go away once he went to bed tonight.

Practice ended and Scott sighed and flopped down onto his bed after moving the dirty clothes off of it and onto the floor. He laid down on his back and stared at the ceiling, hands resting on his stomach as he went over the events of the day.

He knew he just had to see Wallace again. He needed to get to know him more.

The morning came and the tall barista was still on his mind. Scott stretched his arms out with a long yawn before deciding to get changed for the day. He zipped up his parka and decided to head back to the Second Cup. He tried to rationalize the reason behind his decision.

It’s just to get a drink.

But even he didn’t quite believe that excuse.

He walked into the second cup and the familiar scent hit his nose as tried to adjust his outfit. He wanted to appear a lot more composed than he was actually feeling at that moment.

His face dropped a bit when he saw his sister behind the counter. She let out an exaggerated groan as she placed her hands onto the counter. She rolled her eyes and placed her hand on her hips.

“Scott, I can’t keep giving you handouts, you’re going to get me fired. Then, guess who really won’t be getting his free shit?” It was way too early in the morning for her to deal with her brother’s antics and it was obvious.

“Come on Stacey, just this once? I really need this today,” Scott begged, gripping harder on the counter. He was squirming around desperately as he looked at Stacey with puppy-dog eyes.

Stacey sighed, relenting a bit at his puppy-dog eyes. "Fine, but this is the last time. And don't let Julie know. She’ll be on my case about giving away free drinks again, and you know how she gets when she’s pissed."

"Deal!" Scott nodded vigorously, already feeling a sense of triumph. He approached the counter, scanning the room for any sign of Wallace. However, when he reached the front, there was no trace of the familiar face.

"Where's Wallace?" Scott blurted out, the question escaping before he could think better of it.

Stacey smirked, catching on to her brother's fascination. Her eyebrow quirked up in amusement "Oh, you mean the new guy? He's on his fifteen minute break. Why? Are you into him or something?"

Scott's cheeks reddened and he put his hands up defensively as he stammered, "What? No, I just... wanted coffee. That's all. Can’t a guy just want a pick me up?"

Stacey chuckled, pouring the requested coffee as she eyed her brother up and down, noticing his nervous fidgeting. "Sure, Scott. Just be careful. He's a flirt. He has a way of getting guys all worked up."

Scott mumbled a quick thanks and was about to walk away before placing his cup down on the counter again. He opened his mouth and closed it immediately before just spitting out what he wanted to say

“Is it ok if I just wait here for a few minutes for Wallace? I just really want to talk to him for a bit, you know. Just to talk,” he repeated that last part as if he was trying to reassure himself. He was hyping himself up more than anything.

Stacey gave him a weird look before shrugging a bit and heading over to tend to another customer. “Sure, knock yourself out, Scott.”

Scott shifted in his seat nervously as he waited for Wallace to finish his break. Fifteen minutes felt so long and he caught himself impatiently checking the time every few seconds. He tried to act casual, glancing around the small coffee shop, pretending to be interested in the decorations that adorned the walls. His mind, however, was more fixated on the barista he was so eager to talk to.

After what felt like an eternity, he spotted Wallace making his way back to the counter, wiping his hands on a cloth that was hanging on his belt. Scott's palms grew sweaty, and he took a deep breath to steady himself. As Wallace approached, their eyes met, and a small smile tugged at the corners of Wallace's lips as he recognized Scott.

"Hey, Scott, right? Back for more, hm?" Wallace teased, his voice carrying a playful tone.

Scott chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head. "Yeah, well, your coffee is... addictively good. You’re really good at your job."

Wallace laughed, a sound that sent a pleasant shiver down Scott's spine. He liked the sound of his laugh a lot more than he should. "Yeah, that’s kind of why I got the job. But, I'm flattered. What can I get you today?"

Scott cleared his throat, suddenly feeling the weight of the moment on his chest. He struggled to find a way to articulate his sudden interest. "Actually, I was wondering if you're free after your shift. Maybe we could grab a coffee or something?"

Wallace arched an eyebrow, his playful demeanor turning into genuine interest. He is obviously taken aback at his request. "You asking me out, guy?"

Scott's face turned a shade redder, but he managed to nod. "Yeah, I mean, just as friends. Two guys you know. Going out as friends. Ok, point is..I want to get to know you better."

Wallace smirked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Sure, why not? I could use a nice coffee, nothing here is that great anyway. Meet me here when my shift ends?"

Scott grinned, a mixture of excitement and nervousness bubbling within him. "Absolutely. I'll be here."

As Wallace went back to preparing drinks, Scott took a moment to savor the victory. A confident smile made its way onto his face. He couldn't believe he'd worked up the courage to ask Wallace out. Now, all he had to do was survive the rest of the day until their coffee date.

Eventually, Wallace’s shift came to an end and Scott was waiting outside the shop for him to come out. His stomach was swarming with butterflies, but he swallowed and pushed it down.

What was he nervous about? It was just a friendly hang out between two guys. It’s not like he asked him out on a date.

Scott's heart raced as he saw Wallace exit the coffee shop. Wallace flashed a warm smile, giving Scott a friendly wave. Scott scurried over to join him by his side. The two began to walk together, the conversation flowing easily as they strolled down the sidewalk.

As they chatted about various topics, Scott found himself enjoying Wallace's company more and more. There was something about the way Wallace spoke and the laughter that seemed to bubble up naturally as they talked that made Scott feel at ease. The coffee hang out turned into a longer conversation, and Scott realized he was genuinely having a great time. His nerves had almost completely disappeared around Wallace.

After a while, Wallace glanced at Scott with a toothy grin. "You know, for a Sonic fan, you're not half bad."

Scott chuckled, appreciating the good-natured teasing. "Hey, Sonic isn’t bad at all! It’s a masterpiece, you have no clue what art is But spending time with you is way better."

Wallace rolled his eyes playfully and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Smooth, Scott. Real smooth."

As they continued to walk and talk, Scott couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement about this unexpected connection, it seemed like they were really starting to be friends.

But of course the night had to end eventually. “This is my place, I guess we should call it a night, huh?” Wallace leaned against the doorway slightly, looking at Scott.

“Oh! Yeah, I guess we should,” Scott rubbed the back of his head nervously. He really didn’t want to end the night so soon. He was starting to feel really comfortable around Wallace.

“See you tomorrow at the shop? Around the same time?” Wallace asked teasingly, ruffling Scott’s hair, making it messier than it already was.

Scott grinned, the gesture making him feel giddy. His face felt warm but he decided to blame it on the cold weather. "Yeah, I'll be there. Coffee's not gonna drink itself, right?"

Wallace chuckled, and as Scott turned to leave, he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He turned his head back a bit to see Wallace with a genuine smile on his face.

"I had a great time, Scott. Thanks for today," Wallace said, sincerity in his eyes.

Scott's heart skipped a beat at the sight of his smile. Wallace looked straight out of a fairytale. "Yeah, me too. We should definitely do it again."

With that, Scott walked away, the night air feeling a bit cooler as he replayed the evening in his mind. He had a giant smile on his face as he started to walk home. He couldn’t wait for tomorrow. Wallace was truly something.

As days and weeks passed, Scott found himself making more frequent trips to Second Cup, strategically planning his visits to coincide with Wallace's shifts. Each encounter left him more intrigued by the flirty barista. The casual banter, the playful winks, it all fueled Scott's curiosity. Each new thing that he learned about Wallace added to the weird feeling in his stomach whenever they talked.

One day Scott opened the doors of Second Cup and as he scanned the shop, brightly colored hair caught his eye.

He didn’t recognize this girl. She must have been a new hire or something. But, he couldn’t seem to look away from her. Her vibrant hair was a stark contrast to the usual atmosphere of the shop. He walked up to her curiously.

He scanned her name tag and saw that her name was Ramona .Scott couldn't help but be drawn to Ramona's unique look, and he found himself struck by curiosity. As he approached the counter, she glanced up, meeting his gaze with a twinkle in her eyes.

"Hey there! What can I get you?" Ramona greeted with a friendly smile.

Caught off guard, Scott stammered a bit before managing to place his usual order. "Uh, yeah, coffee with extra sugar please."

Ramona raised an eyebrow, clearly noticing Scott's flustered state. "Sugary coffee, huh? Is that your secret to staying upbeat?"

Scott chuckled nervously, realizing he was being teased. "Yeah, you caught me. It's my secret weapon against the daily grind."

Ramona laughed, a sound that resonated with warmth. "Well, good choice. Coming right up."

“Thanks, uh by the way, I don’t think I’ve seen you before, are you new here?” Scott asked.

Ramona nodded, adjusting a strand of her vibrant hair. "Yeah, just started. It's been a fun change of pace. Oh, and I'm Ramona, by the way."

They chat for a bit as she makes his order with a smile. As she finishes up she writes her number on the receipt. Scott looks over it with a smile and waves as he walks away from the counter.

Scott’s eyes catch a glimpse of Wallace’s comfy sweater and waves him over with a wide smile. Wallace notices and a smile makes its way onto his face.

“Hey guy, what’s up?” Wallace sits down next to Scott and leans his cheek against his hand.

“That new girl, Ramona just gave me her number, isn’t that great?” Scott grins and shows off the number on the receipt.

Wallace's smile faltered slightly as he glanced at the receipt, his expression turning more strained. "Oh, that's... cool. Good for you, Scott," he replied, the playful tone replaced by a hint of disappointment.

Scott sensed a shift in the atmosphere and frowned, realizing that perhaps sharing this news with Wallace wasn't the best idea. "Yeah, I thought so too. She seems nice."

Wallace shrugged casually, trying to play it off. "Yeah, whatever. People exchange numbers all the time, right?"

Scott hesitated, noticing the change in Wallace's demeanor. "Hey, is everything okay?"

Wallace forced a smile. "Yeah, just another long day in the shop. Enjoy your sugary coffee, Scott. Maybe I'll see you around."

As Wallace got up to leave, Scott couldn't shake the feeling that he had unintentionally stirred up some unresolved emotions. He glanced back at the receipt with Ramona's number, conflicted by the sudden tension in the air.

Ever since Ramona gave Scott her number, Wallace has been avoiding Scott. Every time Scott tries to come up and talk to him, Wallace just makes someone else take his order. Scott’s been missing Wallace a lot but he’s been hanging out a lot with Ramona to distract himself.

She was nice and they meshed really well together, but she wasn’t Wallace. Every laugh they shared ended up reminding of Wallace. It frustrates him a lot.

Today he decided that he had enough and he needed to confront Wallace and find out what was going on. He doesn’t know what made him get in this funk. It just wasn’t adding up to him.

Scott went to Second Cup again and Wallace spotted him immediately. He was about to walk away when Scott grabbed Wallace by the arm and dragged him to the side room.

In the secluded room, Scott looked at Wallace with a mix of frustration and concern. "What's going on, Wallace? You've been avoiding me, and I deserve an explanation."

Wallace sighed, trying to evade the question. "It's nothing, Scott. Just busy with work and stuff."

Scott's patience wore thin, and his frustration bubbled up. "Cut the crap Wallace. We used to be friends, but now it feels like you're avoiding me on purpose. What's the deal?"

Wallace's expression shifted, his eyes reflecting a mix of anger and something else that Scott couldn’t place. "Fine, you want to know? Maybe I'm tired of watching you chase after every person with a pulse. Ramona, seriously?"

Scott's eyes widened in surprise for a second, then narrowed in frustration. "What does it matter to you who I hang out with or talk to? It's none of your business."

Wallace clenched his jaw, his irritation evident. "Maybe I care about you more than you think, which you clearly don’t care about, and watching you flaunt that number around just rubbed me the wrong way."

Scott's eyebrows shot up, surprised by the unexpected revelation. He laughed in anger and disbelief. "Care about me? Wallace, you've been avoiding me for weeks. What am I supposed to think?"

Wallace huffed again, the frustration apparent in his eyes. He pointed his finger to Scot’s chest. "BECAUSE IM FUCKING IN LOVE WITH YOU! Maybe I shouldn't be, but I am. More than I should. Happy now?"

Scott felt a mix of emotions, but beneath it all was a glimmer of realization. "Why didn't you say anything before?"

Wallace looked away, his voice softer, catching his breath from his outburst . "Because it's complicated, and I didn't want to mess up our friendship."

Scott took a step closer, his frustration shifting into understanding. "Wallace, we need to talk about this, not avoid each other. I didn't know you felt this way. Maybe I... maybe I feel something for you too."

Wallace looked back at Scott, a mixture of hope and uncertainty in his eyes before parting his lips to protest. Before he could say anything, Scott leaned in, capturing Wallace's lips in a tentative yet meaningful kiss.

As their lips parted, Scott looked into Wallace's eyes, a mix of vulnerability and relief in his gaze. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Wallace sighed, his hand gently resting on Scott's cheek. "I was scared, Scott. Scared of ruining what we had."

Scott smiled, brushing his thumb against Wallace's hand. "Well, you don’t have to be scared anymore, alright?”

“Yeah, alright,” Wallace says with a smile, fully tangling their fingers together.

[changingplumbob]

People you’d like to get to know better:

Thanks for the tag @simfestation, always afraid to jump on the trend if I'm not actually tagged (screw you anxiety)

last song: Shuffle is on now and it's currently, Hard Out Here - Lily Allen, when I finish writing this post it's... Home - Gabrielle Aplin (If you've played LIS: True Colours it's the song that plays when Alex first stands on the bridge in Haven). Yeah my December playlist is eclectic

favorite color(s): Sky blue, canary yellow and royal purple

currently watching: Making my way through Once Upon a Time again. As of tonight I've finished season 4's special features, tomorrow will be the start of season 5! Camelot here I come (mentally, although physically would be pretty cool)

last movie: So I watch my favourite Christmas movies in the lead up to Christmas... On Christmas day I watched The Family Stone (first movie I ever saw where the queer characters just existed as part of the family, no coming out or fighting for rights subplot, it holds an extra special place in my heart)

currently reading: I have just finished The Red Queen by Christina Henry, but I have found it difficult to read the last couple of years (screw you as well depression). When I'm next up for a reading session it'll be Carrie by Stephen King.

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: Sweet! But strangely enough I don't like lollies, only chocolate

last thing I googled: Disney Dreamlight Valley what to feed the monkeys... I tried giving them six different types of things okay, I had reached the end of my tether

current obsession: I gave myself season 4 of Reign for Christmas (yes, I still buy DVD's. Yes, it aired years ago but I could only bring myself to watch season 3 this year, still cried my eyes out when the sad thing I knew was coming happened) but POINT I am back to being obsessed with long skirts, long dresses, and women who don't let men make decisions for them

currently working on: Not feeling like everything I build is 💩, being brave enough to say hi to people on tumblr, and just generally upkeeping my sims playing/writing hobby

Some people I wanna know more of, once again if there are tag rules of only tag a handful, I do not perceive them. It was a success not to paste my whole moots list okay (but really you're all tagged in spirit): @marcishaun @azuhra @sharona-sims (when you're not flu stricken) @simmerbeans @dopaminestarvedsim @melonivysims @s1eepytrait @anamoon63 @belsasim @limeysims @nigmos @chechecocoleche @pickypikachu

As always, feel free to ignore the tag since I play tag like an octopus a septopus and the holidays are busy for some.

[sudriantraveler]

The Ulfstead Trials

Hello everyone. I've got another story here. This time it's about the Ulfstead gang.

An old rival brings Stephen back to his days as a competitor at the Rainhill Trials. Shenanigans ensue!

The Ulfstead Trials

One day, Thomas was sent to Brendam Docks to collect a special for Ulfstead Castle. He was very excited. The Earl was always having new ideas and holding grand events up at the castle, and any special going there was always an exciting surprise.

As Thomas pulled into the docks, Salty was shunting some trucks nearby.

“Good morning Salty” said Thomas, “Do you know where my special is?”

“Ahoy there matey!” greeted Salty, “Cranky’s just unloading him now”.

Thomas was puzzled. “Him?”

At that moment, They heard a voice coming from inside the ship, and then Cranky lifted out a very old and very strange looking engine.

His tall funnel was back to front, and his pistons were pointed up into the air.

“Hey! Easy there Clumsy Hook!” the engine shouted, “I’m a historic machine you’re lifting, not some ordinary crates!”

“Yeah yeah, whatever you say old timer” groaned Cranky,  “I’ve got more work to do besides unloading you. The least you can do is quit complaining”.

With the engine still grumbling, Cranky lowered him onto a flatbed.

“Ah, Finally! Us engines aren’t meant to hang in the air like that”.

Cranky wasn’t listening.

The old engine harrumphed, then looked to see Thomas and Salty staring at him.

“Ah good, some fellow engines at last” he said, “Well now, I suppose we should get introductions out of the way…”

There was an awkward pause before Salty spoke up.

“Er, well, I’m Salty”

“And I’m Thomas… And uh… you are?”

The engine stared at him with disbelief.

“Surely, you know who I am”.

“I’m afraid we don’t matey” said Salty.

“Wha… Do engines today know nothing of history?” the old engine spluttered. “Well, I suppose it has been a long time since I’ve been out of the museum”. 

Alright then!” he continued, “Maybe you don’t recognize me, but surely my name will sound familiar. You can call me Hackworth, although perhaps I’m better known as Sans Pareil!”

He smiled grandly atop his flatbed, but Thomas and Salty just stared blankly at him.

Hackworth scowled.

“Oh come on, nothing, really? Sans Pareil?… French for Without Equal?… One of the top competitors at the Rainhill Trials?”

Thomas and Salty still said nothing.

“Hmph… Forget it” said Hackworth, trying to compose himself, “I suppose one of you is taking me to Ulfstead Castle?”

“Er, uh… y-yes, that would be me” stuttered Thomas, “uh, sorry”.

Soon, Thomas was coupled to the flatbed, and he steamed away out of the docks.

The journey to Ulfstead Castle was very awkward. Neither engine said a word for a long time.

Thomas broke the silence.

“Umm… Now that I think about it… You mentioned the Rainhill Trials. That does sound familiar. Can you tell me what they were?”

Hackworth smiled at that.

“Certainly” he said, “It was back when us steam engines were the latest thing. Brand new, and experimental technology we were. The Rainhill Trials were a competition to see which of us was the best, and I was one of the top contenders there!”

“Oh!” interrupted Thomas, “Now I remember where I heard of it. Stephen told me about the Rainhill Trials!”

“Stephen?” Asked Hackworth, surprised, “As in The Rocket?”

“Yes” replied Thomas, “He was at the Rainhill Trials too. I think he actually won them! He works for the Earl up at the castle now. Do you know him?”

Hackwork scowled.

“Unfortunately I do,” he muttered darkly.

“Huh?” Thomas was taken aback.

“I’ll say no more on the subject” continued Hackworth, “Except that there is a lot you do not know about history”.

Thomas wanted to ask more, but Hackworth’s glare made him decide it was probably best to keep quiet.

Hackworth’s mood did improve however, once they arrived at the Castle and he was unloaded from the flatbed.

He was soon in steam, and sizzling contentedly, when he was interrupted by another engines’ whistle, and a small blue narrow gauge engine drew up alongside.

“Hello” she whistled, “I’m Millie, and you must be Hackworth”.

“Indeed I am” replied Hackworth, “Pleasure to meet you. Finally someone on this island who knows my name”.

At that moment, a distinguished looking man stepped out from Millie’s cab.

“Well it certainly wouldn't be right to not know the name of an engine who I invited to visit”, said the man as he stepped forward.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I am Sir Robert Norramby, Earl of Sodor”.

“Oh! Well it’s an honor to meet you, your grace” said Hackworth.

“The honor is all mine” said the Earl, “Welcome to Ulfstead Castle! We’re glad to have you here as our special guest for the summer”.

Hackworth beamed. He was, by now, feeling much better.

The Earl continued, “Yes indeed. You and Stephen will be a fine site running around the estate together”.

If the Earl saw Hackworth’s grimace, he didn’t say anything.

“I’m afraid I’ve got to go and make an important phone call” he continued, “But Millie here will be more than happy to show you around the estate herself”.

And with that, the Earl walked off.

“Come along then Hackworth!” called Mille, “Have you ever seen a dinosaur before”.

“A dinosaur?” asked Hackworth, “Well I may be old, but can’t say I’ve ever seen a dinosaur before”.

Millie just chuckled, as she led Hackworth towards the dino park.

It was evening by the time they finished touring the estate. As Millie led Hackworth into the main engine hall, they were met by Glynn the Coffee Pot Engine.

“Hello Mille” he whistled, “Oh, and you must be Hackworth. It’s nice to meet you”.

“Likewise” replied Hackworth. “This is a lovely estate”.

“I’m glad you like it” replied Glynn, “I hear you and Stephen will be working together showing visitors around throughout the summer”.

This time, no one missed Hackworth’s disgruntled frown.

“Alright” he sighed, “Everyone keeps mentioning Stephen. Where is he?”

“Right here!” came a voice.

Wheeshing grandly, Stephen rolled forward out from a cloud of steam, and smiled at the visitor.

Hackworth just grunted. “So… The so-called Rocket now fancies himself King of a castle too”.

“Well, I don’t know if I’d go that far” laughed Stephen, “But I suppose some might say I am the star attraction here”.

Millie and Glynn just rolled their eyes.

Hackworth grew even more stern.

“Typical” he huffed, “All that fame and attention going to your smokebox… And you didn’t earn any of it”.

Stephen frowned.

“Oh, are you still going on about that Hackworth?” He wheeshed, “Come on… We both know I won fair-and-square”.

“You most certainly did not!” replied Hackworth.

“Yes I did!” Shouted Stephen, “And anyways, that was years ago! Why won’t you just let it go already?”

“Why should I let go of you ruining my one big chance to prove myself?! Especially when I know you cheated!”

“I did not!”

“Did too!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“Uhm, hold on” cut in Glynn, “But what are you both talking about?”

Hackworth grunted. “You didn’t tell them? Why am I not surprised?”

“There’s nothing to tell,” protested Stephen, “but I can see you’re going to do so anyway”.

“Right you are” began Hackworth.

“1829, The Rainhill Trials. Five of the finest engines in the world at the time, all gathered together in one place”.

“Well… Four engines, and a horse on a treadmill”.

“We were all there for one reason… A test of style, efficiency, speed and power”.

“And I was one of the best! Sans Pareil! Without Equal!”

“I wowed the judges and the audience, and I could have won it all”.

“But then… BANG!”

“My cylinder cracked, and despite being so close to winning… I was out”.

“The others all failed too, leaving The Rocket as the so-called Champion”.

“It was Sabotage! I know it!”

“My crew checked over everything before we began. There was nothing wrong!”

“You did something!” finished Hackworth, enraged.

“I did nothing!” protested Stephen, “What could I have done anyway?!”

“Why don’t you confess and then you can tell us yourself!”

“I have nothing to confess to! You broke down because of bad luck. That or you were just careless!”

“CARELESS?!” Bellowed Hackwork, “Why you… I was the best engine in the world! I’m anything but careless!”

“Yeah right!” Interrupted Stephen, “I beat you then, and I can still beat you today!”

A tense silence fell between the engines.

“Alright then…” smirked Hackworth, “A rematch then… And this time I’ll prove I’m the better engine”.

“You're on!” declared Stephen, “We can have our own Rainhill Trials, right here at the castle!”

“Did someone say Trials?!” Said a voice.

The engines all looked to see the Earl as he practically leapt out the door, and ran excitedly towards them.

“Am I correct in hearing that a challenge has been put forth?” he said.

“Yes indeed sir,” replied Hackworth, “A competition between me and Stephen. Two Rainhill veterans together for a rematch!”

“Uh, Sir…” interrupted Millie, “I don’t think this is such a-”

“Oh, how wonderful!”, declared the Earl.

“Excuse me,” said Glynn, “But, could I join in too?”

“Glynn!” wheeshed Millie.

“What? It sounds like it could be fun”.

“Of course you can join Glynn,” replied the Earl, “Oh, this is so exciting! I’ll go and make the arrangements!”

“Um, Sir… Sir!...” called Millie, “I really think you should reconsi-”

But the Earl had already gone back inside.

Word soon spread of the competition, and people from all over the island came to the castle to see it.

Thomas, Annie and Clarabel, were taking visitors to the castle.

“What on earth is the Earl doing now for so many people to be going to the castle?” asked Annie.

“I feel so full, I feel so full!” complained Clarabel.

“I don’t know what’s going on” said Thomas, “but I guess we’ll soon find out”.

They arrived at the castle to find Stephen, Hackworth and Glynn, all parading around the estate, with crowds of people cheering them on.

“Yes, your eyes do not deceive you!” called Hackworth, “Sans Pareil makes his triumphant return to the rails. Make way for the finest of early railway engineering!”

“Agreed” replied Stephen, “So why don’t you move aside Hackworth, and make way for The Rocket!”

“Oh, Hello everyone” chuckled Glynn, “Thank you all for visiting!”

Millie just sat in a siding out of the way, and groaned in frustration.

“What’s happening here?” asked Thomas.

“Hackworth and Stephen have re-started some silly old rivalry and have dragged the whole castle into it” replied Millie.

“Oh” said Thomas, “Well… at least it looks like everyone else is having fun”.

“Hah!” laughed Millie, “Just you wait. This is not going to end well”.

By now, the three old engines had all lined up. The Earl stepped forward.

“And now for the big event!” He called, “Stephen, Hackworth and Glynn, will all race around the estate! The first one back here is the winner!”

“On your mark!”

“Get set!”

“GO!”

And the three old engines set off as fast as they could…

… Which wasn’t very fast.

In any case, Stephen and Hackworth took the lead, leaving Glynn behind.

But when they reached a set of points, Stephen went one way… and Hackworth went another!

“Hey!” called Stephen, “Where are you going?!”

“Where are you going?” replied Hackworth, “I’m going to win!”

“Oh no you won’t!” 

So when Stephen reached another set of points, he went a different way as well.

This continued for the rest of the race. When Stephen went one way, Hackworth went another…

…And when Hackworth took one line, Stephen wouldn’t follow.

They got so off course that by the time they both reached the finish line, Glynn was there too, and they all crossed the line at the same time.

“Yes! I WON!” called Hackworth.

“No, I won!” protested Stephen.

“Only because you took a shortcut!”

“I only did that because you took a shortcut!”

“Liar!”

“Cheat!”

“OH, MON DIEU!” cried Millie, “Are you two done yet?!”

“No!” insisted Hackworth, “Since we can’t decide who won the race, we need one more challenge to prove who’s the best”.

“I’m game,” said Stephen.

“Oh,” said Glynn, “Well… I suppose one more challenge couldn’t hurt. What do you suggest?”

“A test of strength!” puffed Hackworth, “Whoever can pull the heaviest load, will be the winner!”

“Hah” laughed Stephen, “Easy!”

“Ugh” groaned Millie.

“Well, at least there isn’t anything too heavy here for them to pull” muttered Thomas.

At that moment, Percy pulled in, and whistled for the Earl’s attention.

“Hello Sir!” He called, “Here’s that delivery of stone you asked for”.

“I don’t know what you need all of these heavy stone trucks for,” he commented, “But, you ordered them, and I delivered them!”

Stephen and Hackworth looked at Percy’s stone trucks, and smirked.

Thomas and Millie just glared.

“What?” squeaked Percy.

Soon, Hackworth, Stephen and Glynn, were all lined up for another run around the estate. Each was coupled to an impressive weight of…

… one stone truck each.

The Earl got ready to wave them off.

“Er… Are you sure about this?” he asked.

“Certainly!” insisted Hackworth.

“As sure as I’ve ever been!” puffed Stephen.

“Uh… I’m also here!” said Glynn.

“Well… Alright then”.

“On your mark!”

“Get set!”

“GO!”

And once again, with much puffing of smoke and steam, the three engines started off. Each straining against the weight of their one truck.

Then, just as Hackworth reached the first set of points, there was a jolt and He began heading towards the exit of the estate.

“Hey!” called Stephen, “What are you doing now!”

“Haha! This estate isn’t big enough for our rivalry Stephen!” Laughed Hackworth, “Let’s take this to the Main Line!”

“Get back here!” whistled Stephen, and he chased after Hackworth!

Both engines reached the hill, and quickly began gaining speed.

Stephen rocked and swayed as he chased down the hill after Hackworth.

“This is getting a bit dangerous” he thought, “I’d better slow down a bit”.

Stephen applied his brakes, but the heavy truck pushed him onwards.

“Oh no. HACKWORTH!” he called, “I can’t stop!”

“Aha! So you finally admit I’m the better engine!” replied Hackworth, “Don’t worry Stephen! I’ve got enough brakes for us both!”

So Hackworth applied his brakes… But they didn’t help.

“oh… o-oh NO! HELP! HELP!”

Stephen caught up with Hackworth, and ran into his truck with a bump!

Both engines were now going at a tremendous speed, for real this time!

“WAAAAAAGH!” cried Stephen, as he leaned dangerously to one side.

Hackworth, too, was in danger of coming off the rails.

Both engines reached the bottom of the hill safely, but they were still going much too fast.

The main line junction was just up ahead. Stephen knew it would be busy at this time. If they didn’t stop in time, there could be a terrible crash.

Thinking quickly, Stephen got as close to Hackworth’s truck as he could.

Then, with a well timed bump, his coupling chain swung forward and hooked onto the truck.

“Aha! Got it!”

“Hackworth!” he called, “We need to work together if we’re going to stop in time!”

“What?!” cried Hackworth.

“Just Listen to me! On the count of three, apply your brakes as hard as you can!”

“One!”

“Two!”

“THREE!”

Together, both engines clamped their brakes hard on.

Sparks flew, as their wheels skidded along the line.

The junction was getting closer, and Stephen could see Gordon thundering towards them with the express.

With one final effort Stephen and Hackworth came to a stop.

They were just in time, as Gordon rushed past mere inches in front of Hackworth’s bufferbeam.

“Keep out of my way, Old Timers!” Shouted Gordon, “Express Coming Through!” and he continued off into the distance.

Both Stephen and Hackworth were out of breath.

They were still breathing heavily when they heard a familiar whistle, and Thomas puffed up behind them, carrying the Earl.

“Stephen! Hackworth!” called the Earl, “Are you two alright?”

“Yes sir,” panted Stephen, “we’re fine”.

Hackworth was at a loss for words.

The Earl walked up to him. “What were you thinking Hackworth? Running off down the hill with a heavy load, and having Stephen chase after you?!”

“I… I don’t know Sir. I’m sorry” said Hackworth.

“I should hope so too” said the Earl, “In any case, Thomas here will help you both back up to the castle”.

“Er… Yes Sir!” said Thomas.

So the Earl climbed back aboard, Thomas was coupled up to Stephen and Hackworth, and the cavalcade set off back up the hill.

They reached the castle to find Millie waiting for them.

“Ahem…” she wheeshed, “Well…”

“I know, I know” said Stephen, “We’re sorry Millie”.

“I suppose we took our competition too far” added Hackworth, “We should have listened to you”.

“Yes” said Millie, smugly, “You should have”.

“I guess, no one won the competition,” mused Stephen.

But at that moment, Glynn puffed into view, having almost completed his run around the castle.

“Nearly there” he puffed to himself, “I’ll do it… I’ll do it… I’ll… I’ve done it!... I’ve done it everyone!”

“Well well well” laughed Thomas, “Looks like Glynn won the competition!”

“I suppose he did,” chuckled Hackworth.

“Well done Glynn!” cheered Stephen.

“Yes, well done indeed!” added Hackworth.

Glynn just smiled. Truthfully, he was rather out of puff.

That evening, Millie, Glynn, Stephen and Hackworth, all rolled into the sheds at the castle.

Hackworth spoke up.

“I’m sorry Stephen” he said, “I took things too far. I was wrong, you’re not a liar or a cheater”.

“It’s alright” answered Stephen, “Truthfully, I think I let my own competitiveness get the better of me today. You are a good engine Hackworth, I’m sorry you didn’t get the fame you wanted all those years ago”.

There was a long silence.

Then…

“Still” chuckled Glynn, “It was a fun competition”.

“Oh, yes indeed” grinned Hackworth, “It really brought me back to the Rainhill Trials”.

“If I’m honest, Rainhill was also a bit of a mess” laughed Stephen, “Do you remember the Horse?”

“Hah! How could I forget” replied Hackworth, “I can’t be certain, but I think I remember seeing him leave some dropping in the judges stand”.

“Ha ha ha!” laughed Stephen, “Well, that’s probably what got him disqualified then!”

Glynn couldn’t help but laugh too.

Millie rolled her eyes.

But even she smiled, as the old engines, now old friends, talked long into the night.

The End

[finalsentence]

hi everyone!! this is going to be a very simple introduction; depending on how this goes i might get fancy and do something nicer in the future!

this is my second or third time trying to create a space for myself in the writeblr community. both times i failed because consistency is hard. but i’d like to put myself out there and make friends with other writers, so i’m giving it another shot!

about me.

i’m nineteen years old and pursuing a ba degree in english literature! i have absolutely no idea what i want to do after that… if i had it my way i would simply spin my favorite characters around in my head for a living but i’ve been told that’s not how it works. :(

i enjoy reading a variety of genres, including literary fiction, horror, and post-apocalypse!

my top favorite books are: the stand by stephen king, frankenstein by mary shelley, and the kite runner by khaled hosseini. (yes, they are wildly different stories, but they all hold a very special place in my heart. <3)

my writing.

so. confession time. i am a fanfiction writer. i know how that sounds, but don’t scroll away just yet! i put a lot of care and effort into my work to make it accessible and enjoyable for everyone; so even if you aren’t in any of the fandoms i write about, you will still be able to follow my work the way you would follow someone’s original novel. all of my work is a study of canon storylines, settings and characters, but i try to present it in a way that does not assume the reader has any prior knowledge of the source. (and if you do, you get to enjoy the little easter eggs hehe.) there’s something for everyone, i promise! <3

generally speaking, i enjoy writing in the same genres that i read! i write a lot of horror and post-apocalypse, but overall i am trying to develop a more literary style. my work tends to focus on anti-heroes and their super dysfunctional relationships. and lots of my favorite characters are queer-coded!

i want to venture into writing original fiction one day, so you can look forward to that!

my wips.

i only have one active wip at the moment, so that’s what i’m going to talk about here. i might introduce some of my future projects later if i’m able to get this blog off the ground!

the book i’m currently working on is a five nights at freddy’s fanfiction suburban horror novel. it doesn’t have a title yet, because i am notoriously indecisive and i haven’t found one that fits, so until i figure that out, i’ll be using temporary tags and referring to it vaguely as ‘my michael novel.’

the story features an unreliable narrator, sketchy family entertainment restaurants, and lots of paranormal activity!

summary:

michael afton is miserable. living alone in a crappy apartment, unable to hold down a steady job, and haunted by nightmares of a tragic event in his past, he starts to suspect that things will never get better. but then, his estranged father reaches out to him with an unexpected and cryptic offer, asking him to return to his hometown and take a job as a maintenance technician at an animatronic rental facility. though he is unhappy about returning to the town where he grew up, michael dutifully follows these instructions, convinced that rekindling a relationship with his father is the key to turning his life around. however, he quickly realizes things in the facility aren’t what they seem. something sinister is hidden inside those walls, and it’s putting michael’s life on the line. in order to discover the truth about his father—and, eventually, to make things right—michael has to come to terms with his own past mistakes.

it’s not a fantastic summary; i’ll probably rework it soon, and hopefully i will have an entire wip intro to share at some point!

aaand that’s pretty much it! if you’re interested in interacting with me at all, please don’t be afraid to reach out! i am always open to chat, especially about your wips—and feel free to include me in dash games, too! i want to interact with people as much as possible, to build a little space for myself on here with some new friends, and have fun. <3

i hope you enjoy my little corner of writeblr!

[wisteria-html]

Are fathers usually terrible? I don't have many other people around me to compare to, so I thought I might pose it to others.

🐦

Hm. Ok.

The question I’m pondering is how honest to be on here. I’m a part of a whole story now, I have more eyes on me than I have in a while. Yes I used to be big on TikTok, but that was a character. A persona. This is just me: my opinions, my beliefs, my thoughts, regardless of the situation. Even now that I’m in the croakerverse, I want to be clear that I am still myself. This post is all me too, all of this is true.

Don’t read if you’re sensitive to abuse, nothing is explicit and he wasn’t awful, but I do talk about some more serious stuff.

My dad wasn’t great. He was shitty to my mom, he hit my sister a couple times, and I was JUST LIKE HIM. Not in that I was abusive, I wasn’t, but he saw me as a mini him. We’re very alike. We look alike, have similar work ethics, and we’ve always had similar interests.

When I was a kid he would read me Stephen King. As early as four or five years old. Scaring me was one of his favorite things in the world, I never saw him laugh harder. It got to the point where my mom was scared to walk around corners for fear he would jump out. He never hurt her physically, but he did love to see her scared.

When I was eleven years old I told him I wanted to end my life. I begged him not to tell my mom… and he didn’t. My mom was the one taking care of us, she made all the doctor’s appointments, and he hid it from her. Years later I learned he had started being suicidal at eleven too. I get it from him.

When I was in middle school we started running together. It took me years to call it physical abuse. He never touched me, but he would withhold water for miles. If I couldn’t make the pace he wanted he would stop talking to me. Once I got heat exhaustion because he wouldn’t let me stop running before we hit our goal, and then he left me on the side of the road half unconscious while he got the car. Once I threw up and he congratulated me for pushing myself so hard. Once I had to stop and he left me in the middle of the National Mall because “He wasn’t gonna stop his workout just because I was too weak to finish.” I used to fantasize about letting a car run over my foot or breaking my own leg because I knew it would be the only way it would end. When I told him I was done he barely spoke to me for a week. I was twelve years old, thirteen at most.

When my mom learned how bad things were for my sister and I, she ended things. She had been unhappy for a while and stayed for our benefit. I’m not going to get into my sister’s story, it’s not mine to tell, but know that she’s been completely no contact for years. I don’t know if she’ll ever speak to him again.

After they split I tried to go to therapy with my dad. I told him everything he did to hurt me, how seeing scary movies with him was awful because he would make fun of me for days over me jumping at a trailer to cover up how afraid he was of the movie itself. How I hated it and it wasn’t worth it. A year later he asked to take me to see a horror movie, and when I asked if he remembered why the answer was no he said “Oh yeah, you don’t like me making fun of you for being scared.” He never cared or tried to change, not really.

During COVID, he couldn’t come over anymore. I was free. I had been so stuck fawning for him that I never stopped to consider not seeing him. The second I couldn’t see him? Things got so much better so quickly.

We didn’t talk for about two years. Last year he came over to get something and I saw him. I realized he didn’t scare me anymore. I loved him but I didn’t see him as a father. I didn’t care what he thought. We started seeing movies, then musicals. We see each other once a month at most. It’s fun but also exhausting. I don’t like telling him about my life.

When I get married someday, he will be invited but he will not walk me down the aisle. We will not dance. I love him but I also hate him, sometimes.

My relationship with my dad is complicated. The fact that he’s in the military doesn’t help. I’m happy he’s gone and part of me mourns the father child relationship I wish we could’ve had. Seeing him makes really sad sometimes. I think I keep talking to him because I feel like I should, not because it makes me happy. It doesn’t make me unhappy, I just… don’t care. And I shouldn’t not care about my own father.

I don’t know if this answers your question. Honestly I might delete it tomorrow, I’m pretty exhausted and there’s a fair chance I’ll regret posting this. I’ve never told anyone but close friends and my therapist. But I hope this did something for you.

[theycalledmekay]

This Means War

This is a William Ransom fan fiction work created on Wattpad by me.

Her name was Catherina. Princess of England, daughter of King George.

She was missing.

The posters were up everywhere in England and the 13 colonies. Even in North Carolina, where she was. She was hiding in the woods by a ridge. Frasier's Ridge. The house was beautiful, but she couldn't get close. She stayed in a tree.

Until the fateful night, she saw soldiers. If she were to be caught, they would send her back home, and who knew what was waiting for her there. Cece knew the man who had kidnapped her was dead. Long gone, in fact. Stephen Bonnet had been murdered. She had been glad when she found out.

She laid down on the branch she was on, carefully and quiet. If only the guards hadn't heard the snap. Her eyes widened.

"Who's there!" A not to familiar voice calls. The Frasier's were demanded to investigate. The man, with long red hair, finds her. She begs him to stay quiet with her eyes.

"There is no one here! Just a birds nest." He says the the soldier. "Get down then, Mr. Frasier!" The soldier sighs. "Lord John Grey will visit you in the morrow." The soldier walks off.

"Lass, what are yeh doin' in the tree?" The man asks her finally. "I was trying to nap as I've only stayed in this tree and done no harm." Cece replies. "Got a name, lass?" He asks her. "Uhm..." She couldn't use her real name... could she? No, everyone would know she was Catherina. "Cercei." She responds.

"Come along. Let's get you to the ridge before the soldier comes back." Once bathed and feeling much better, Mr. and Mrs. Fraser fed her, making her feel much better. "I apologize, Mr. and Mrs. Fraser. I didn't realize I was evading." Catherina apologized.

"Oh, it's quite alright, dear. My daughter saw you up there a few days ago. We were wondering why you were hiding." Mrs. Fraser says. "Come now. Let me lead you to your room where you may rest for the night." For the first time in months, Catherina slept well.

Many months later:

"Mistress Fraser -" "Yes, Cece! You can come with! We're sending Briana and Roger off. They are moving!" Claire invites her along. Holding Mandy and helping Jimmy, Cece went along with Bree to grab some items the children and her might need.

"Lord John!" Bree almost bumps into the man. Cece stops and freezes seeing the young British soldier. "Madam." He nods to her. Her breathing almost stops altogether, and she almost faints.

"Cersei!" Jimmy taps her arm. "Are you alright?!" The young boy asks. "Ah yes, Jim. I'm quite fine. Just had a bit of spell." She says softly. The soldier offers her his hand. "I can help you and the children back if you and the other Mistress don't mind."

Shruging his hand off and acting a bit hostile. The words she uttered next made the young soldiers rethink his action as if he had horrified the young woman. "I am fine. Perhaps, if you stayed away-" "Cersei!" Bree shrieked. "We don't speak to soldiers like that!"

"Red Coat!" Cersei hisses. "Rebel!" The soldier hisses under his breath. "She's not too keen on soldiers, I apologize. She claims she was kidnapped from England." The soldier realized who she was. "I understand. No ill intent. I insist on helping though, Miss-" "Cersei." She says softly.

"I do not need your assistance." She bows and hurries off with the children. "Father, how long has it been since the Princess has been missing?" William finally asks before he could be introduced to Bree. "Almost a year now. You don't seriously think that girl could be Catherina, do you?" Lord John Grey asks.

"I'm afraid you're right. See how defensive she got -" "She could be a rebel, Willie." Lord John Grey interupts. "I believe the Princess is long gone, my boy. She'll never be found." Lord John Grey shakes his head. "Some of us still have hope." William disagrees. He introduces himself to Bree and then walks off.

He sees Cersei again. She seemed in a better mood now. She noticed him again and he saw the guilt in her eyes. She approaches him.

"Good morrow." She chimes. "Good morrow." He bids. "I'd like to apologize about my terrible behavior earlier." She stops walking. Seeing as they are in the middle of a road, he gently moves her out of the way of a carriage.

She thanks him, softly. "All has been forgiven, Miss Cersei." He says, holding her arm steady as she slips in the mud. "I didn't quite catch your name, soldier." She says.

"Leftenant (Lieutenant) Lord Ellesmere William Ransom." He introduced himself. "Lady Cersei of York." She lies. He nods and bows. She gulps, taking a long breath. "Care to accompany me?" She asks.

He nods in agreement, and the two walk around the town. They talk for a decent while until dusk. "I'm afraid I must go, Mistress Cersei. It was quite an honor meeting you." He bows. She smiles.

"Rise soldier. I am no queen." She jokes. He smiles. "Until we meet again." He nods. "Until then, Leftenant." The two part ways. "What was that about?" Bree asks as Cece makes her return.

"Oh, nothing. Had to... Apologize to Lord Ellesmere." Cece smiles. "Did you get too overwhelmed?" Claire asks her. "Well... I believe so. Mistress, he seems.... indifferent." Cece says.

"Oh Pa, should we tell her!" Bree exclaims. "Don't trouble yerself lass. We may 'as well tell 'er." Jamie sighs. "Is it about Lord Ellesmere?" Cece asks. "Yes." Claire sighs. "As you know, I disappeared for almost twenty years. Jamie was serving out his parole in Helwater. A young woman by the name of Geneva Dunsany was infatuated with him. She was to wed the Eighth Earl of Ellesmere, Ludovic Ransom, who could not have children." Claire says.

Cece's jaw dropped.

"Don't say anymore. I think I understand. Cockoldry, correct. He's illegitimate. The illegal son of Mister Fraser and Lady Dunsany?" Cece says. "Yes." Jamie says. Cece thought about it.

As a princess, such a crime could have the man hanged for allowing it, however... No one knew she was the princess. "Your secret shall be safe with me." She nods. She thought back to the Lord of Ellesmere.

He did resemble Jamie very little. He even had the highlander fire in his eyes.

The battle of Saratoga:

Hiding in the trees, Cersei aimed her bow straight and true, waiting for the first brit to fire.

She was committing high treason for the Frasers, and she was damn sure going to keep them safe. The British stood in a line, straight and true.

The slight talking of two soldiers made her look over. She was gonna shoot one. She smirked and took her aim.

One of the Colonials fired. "You dumb shit!" Cece cursed.

She shot the other one, but he moved just as she fired. It took his hat clean off, and she gasped, "Lord Ellesmere!"

It seemed like he heard her cry as his gaze swept the area. His eyes seemingly landed on hers. Her look of shock and his of anger. He was speaking, but the rush of her heart was strong in her ears.

He drew his sword and charged with his men. His screams on the field made her feel guilty. She accidentally shot one of her own, making the brits yell, "Sniper!"

She rained down her army of arrows until she was out. Jamie saw this, and so did William. He fought with his highlander spirit, she could tell.

Jamie was suddenly knocked out, and the battle subsided. Most of the colonials were dead, many brits as well. She gulped, and she watched as all of them as they searched and searched for her.

She prayed that they wouldn't find her, but they did. "Look 'ey here. I say we use her -" "We bring her back as prisoner. You know the rules." William retorts.

"Come on down, Mistress. We won't hurt you." William tries to coax her. "Go away! I'm hunting!" She lies. "Hunting what? The Royal Army?!" One of the soldiers yelled.

"Please, Lady York! It's dangerous!" William sighs. All the soldiers gasped. "No one touch me except for Leftenant Ellesmere, then!" She promises. "Yes, Mistress." They abliged.

She slowly climbs down, sliding on the last moment and landing almost on her behind if Jamie hadn't caught her.

"Be a shame if the lass fell. Right lads?" He asks. He takes off running, most of the army after him, leaving William and Catherina alone. "Lady York, I apologize, but if you don't run now, you'll be hanged for treason." He says. "I know, Leftenant." She sighs. "My condolences. At least I shot your hat off." She jokes.

"I knew it." He chuckles. "I'll be in the trees, keeping you safe when I run." She smiles. "Go, now!" He gently nudges her. "See you again? On the battlefield?" She laughs, running.

"I hope not, Lady York." He calls after her, watching her run. He runs in the opposite direction, chashing after his father.

Jamie survived, and so did Catherina.

The battle of Saratoga 2:

The early morning signals the cries of war.

Saratoga. Another time.

Catherina shared the strategy. "They will be looking in the trees. They caught me there last time. If I make it past the fence and be on their side, they will assume I am with them." She chuckles. They nod.

"Be careful." Jamie warned. She nods. She runs across and finds a tree. Climbing it, she nestled herself into the hollow part where it almost split off.

The drums start, and the battle slowly commences. Waiting until the right time, she notices them trying to shoot and kill General Fraser. Her aim would be true until she notices. "Not again!" She groans. She shoots Lord Ellesmere this time.

In the hand. His shriek made the Brits panic. It wasn't deep, and he released who it was.

"Damn woman." He mumbles under his breath. He fights, pulling the arrow out. Suddenly, they come face to face with each other.

"Cersei!" He grabs her, pulling her out of the way of another soldier. "Kill me." She begs. "I'd rather you than anyone else." William gulps at those words.

Taking a deep breath, he choked her gently, causing her to pass out. He fights until most men are dead. They retreat, and he looks over at Cersei.

"Aye Leftenant Ellesmere killed the sniper!" The men cheer. William sighed and pretended to be happy until one of his men got shot with her arrow.

He turned swift as did the others. "Heed my warning!" He stares at her in shock at her words. "She's just begging to be killed, isn't she!" General Fraser sighs, but then he collapses.

"General!" William rushes to him immediately. Everyone turns to them.

He sighs, "Damn woman!" William curses, again. Everyone agrees with him. They trugg on, eventually forgetting about her, hoping to save General Fraser in time.

Unfortunately, they didn't. General Fraser died not much after they got back to camp. William grieved him.

Camp:

Leftenant Lord Ellesmere was enjoying being out of battle. He really dreaded it. Until a curly haired woman angrily grabbed him. He stared in shock. Mistress Fraser.

".... basic necessities of care for your prisoners. Sir, are you hearing me?" When she noticed his strange face.

"I-" He stutters. He chuckles. "I beg your pardon, Madam. I do believe I know you?" He questions it. "Your Mistress Fraser, are you not?" He smiles. Her eyes sparkled with recognition.

"I am." "I am Leftenant Lord Ellesmere, William Ransom." He bows. "I visited your home on Fraser's Ridge when I was still a boy." He stopped a moment and noticed a certain look in her eyes. "You saved my father's life." The realization sets in for him at that moment, too. Claire Fraser was a rebel.

"William." She smiles. "You're a rebel?" He asks as he turns back to face her, realizing where she had been. She nods, "Yes."

She feels a bit disappointed. After this exchange, with some bandages and food brought to the prisoners, William was left with his head reeling.

He went to his tent to grab something, and he walked in and saw her.

Immediately, he closed the flap, making sure no one saw her. "Cersei." He glares. "Leftenant-" He covers her mouth.

"Leftenant? Has anyone seen Lord Ellesmere?" He hears someone calling for him. She stares in horror. He silently tells her to be quiet. They sneek out the other side and run to the Forrest not that far at the edge of his camp.

Cersei giggles, "That was fun! Let's do it again!" "I'm afraid not. This is where I leave you." He sighs. "Leftenant!" She grabs his arm.

"Cersei, if you get caught here, you will be captured. I don't want another rebel I know in my prisoner quarters." He sighs. "Leftenant, I- William..." She sighs.

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright." She looks down. "You've never been fond of... what do you Yankees call us British.... Red Coats?" He teases. "Aye, we call them Red Coats. Because they have red coats stained with blood." She pretends.

He smiles. "You should go." He warnes her. "I wanna stay." She keeps her hand entangled in his. "Lady York-" He sighs.

"Lord Ellesmere-" "Run!" He pushes her gently. She stares in shock and suddenly runs off. "What was that about?" One of the other men asks him.

"Just a random girl asking about the war. Such a strange girl." He turns to his soldier. "Leftenant, Mistress Fraser got her items." He nods. "Thank you." William says.

The soldier walks off, and William sees Cersei farther ahead, in another clearing, picking some flowers. He smiled.

That poor innocent girl was gonna get herself killed. He walked back to camp. It was slowly getting later and then he saw her.

Dressed as an Native American. "Cece!" Claire pulls on her dress. "Not a worry, Claire. I can-" She turns and freezes. "Lord Ellesmere." She looks at her feet. "Cersei." He sighs.

Suddenly, a fire starts. He glares. "Take her. I saw nothing." He nods. Cersei helps Claire get to the exit, but not before she runs back to William, who had turned to walk away.

"Lord Ellesmere." He turns to face her. She kisses his cheek and runs off. How.... interesting. His gaze lingers on the exit after he watches her disappear. Interesting.

Many months later, after the war:

William walks inside. "Father-" He freezes seeing.... Mac. His head reeled. For a moment, hearing him speak. A voice so familiar.

"William James." His jaw dropped.

Lord John Grey turned to his son. "Willie-" "You will not call me such a name!" Everyone stared at him. "William-" "I know all I need to!" William goes to storm out. "William!" It was Cersei.

He huffs and walks away anyway. "William!" Catherina hurries after him. He doesn't stop. "William, please!" He turns.

"What do you want?!" He snaps. At this point, they were deep in the forest by Fraser Ridge. "Apologize!" She stops him by grabbing his arm. She had decided not to tie up her hair today. Worst mistake of her life.

"I will do no such thing." He pulls away from her. "William!" She yells at him.

"You can't command me! You are not the king of England!" He yells back. "You are so petulant!" She screamed. "At least I'm not a princess!" He growls. "At least I'm not a bastard!" She responds.

His hand connects with her cheek. She gasps, and he looks at her, horror in his eyes. "Catherina!" He grabs her arm as she goes to run off. "I didn't mean to harm you." He pleads with her.

He gently gets on his knees in front of her. "Get up!" She whispers. "Get up!" She changes her tone to a yell. He gets up swiftly.

"I could have you and your family hanged, but I won't. It's a privilege knowing a princess, isn't it." She growls.

"Such a high rank and yet as a bastard you feel you don't deserve it and -" "Hush." William whispers softly. "You think that one will know-" "SHUT IT!" William snaps.

"YOUR SUCH AN ADDLE PATE!" She screams. "You can be so awful and-"

He shuts her up by grabbing her arms and throwing her forward. Their lips connect, and she freezes up. He pulls away almost immediately, ashamed by his actions.

She stares at him in shock, eyes pooling with tears. "Catherina, I-" "Catherina is in England... Cersei is in North Carolina." She says softly as a tear slowly slides down her cheek.

She wipes it forcefully. "I deeply apologize, Lord Ellesmere. I shouldn't have called you a bastard and such other foul names."

She turns and runs to away from him. "Cersei!" He calls after her. He sighed and sat on a log. This princess was gonna be the death of him.

Part 2?? And for anyone wondering, an "Addle Pate" is a foolish or dumb witted person

[hazel-of-sodor]

A Life Well Lived

Ch.4 Exit Stage Right

Other Stories

Other Chapters

The cool September air was a welcome feeling on Topham's skin as he leaned against Edward. He had walked over to speak with his old friend while waiting for his train. Edward was telling him about some of the antics the others had gotten into since he retired, but he just couldn't seem to focus. He was so tired... Oh.

"Edward?" He interrupted.

"Yes sir?"

"Could you call Lady Jane over here?"

As Edward whistled for her, Topham lowered himself on to a crate that had been left in front of the engine.

"Sir, are you alright?" Edward asked with worry.

"I'm sorry Edward, but I don't think I'll be getting back up from here."

Edward looked confused for a moment before he understood. "Sir..."

Edward sounded smaller than he had in years.

"It's quite alright, Edward," Topham reassured him, placing a hand on the nearest buffer. "I've known this was coming."

His wife rounded the corner of Edward only to stop cold, "Oh...Derek..." She whispered.

"I'm afraid we'll be late to the picnic my dear." 

 "You'll make it up to me, you always do," she said, brushing away tears.

"I'll be waiting for you with the basket ready my dear."

"You had better be." she said with a broken laugh.

Topham chuckled weakly only for it to break into a coughing fit. When it stopped he turned back to Edward.

"If I may ask one last thing of you, Edward?"

"Anything Sir."

"I've been advising Charles as best I could, but he will need someone else he can trust to advise him as controller now. Will you help him for me?"

"Always. I promise Sir, I won't let you down." Edward said, tears finally hitting his footplate.

Topham smiled, "You never have old friend."

The station porters ran up with a stretcher. "Don't worry Sir, well have you to the hospital in no time."

"Its too late for that I'm afraid."

"Sir?"

"Its alright boys, I've got him from here." A man with white peppered hair and white coat strode up.

"Doctor Stephens. I knew I should have had an apple this morning." His laugh quickly turned into a shaking cough.

The Doctor pulled out his briefcase. When he laid his stethoscope against Topham's chest he sighed deeply.

"You had to be right one last time, Derek."

He looked up towards Jane, "I'm sorry Jane, but it would be best just to take him home.  He'll be more comfortable there, and theres nothing I could do at the hospital that I cant do there."

Derek reached up and grabbed Jane's hand. "Thank you, Doctor."

Dr. Stephen closed his brief case, "I only wish I could do more old friend."

He helped the porters lay Derek on the stretcher, and the group began walking towards a tram waiting to take Derek home.

Edward watched the tram until it was long out of sight, tears coating his running board.

------

Sir Topham Derek Hatt passed away at his home in Wellsworth on September 5th, 1956, surrounded by his family. Moments later, whistles and horns began sounding out across the Island. One last farewell, to the Fat Controller, and a life well lived.

[aviculor]

The new film adaptation of Salem's Lot is here. I haven't read the novel or seen either tv miniseries, but I know it's about a writer who moves to a rural town in Maine and the town is evil. Why yes, it was written by Stephen King, how did you guess? Anyway, the townsfolk are being turned into vampires. Sorry to spoil a book that was written in 1975. It's a vampire story.

I was looking forward to this, but I forgot the release date and I was pleasantly surprised to find out it was my next day off.

Oh no, it's the world's toughest 8 year old who even the teachers are afraid of. Let me guess, is his dad the sheriff or something? A plucky band of kids whose bullies are legitimate threats to their lives is of course another Stephen King staple, most notably seen in It.

There's some really great visuals here. I liked seeing Straker appear behind the boys in the woods, I liked the scene of Danny awakening after his funeral, and I loved the scene of Danny trying to get Mark to let him in. The dialogue is a little iffy at times, but that's to be expected given the territory of a Stephen King adaptation. Better than an H.P. Lovecraft adaptation though. Fucking Suitable Flesh.

I do have to admit it's a little funny how the runtime is nearly two hours but we barely even bothered with the "What are you talking about? Vampires aren't real" stage. But broad strokes, I'm liking this.

"This is some shit."

I'm not sure if a rabies shot is going to help, but by all means. Oh, I guess it did. Okay.

That 11 year old boy is unflappable.

With all the "modern twists" that have been going around for decades, maybe it is a good thing to just have a traditional, old-fashioned vampire movie with modern production values. Have I mentioned that I'm looking forward to Nosferatu this Christmas?

[frischkasekuchen]

Dreamtalia Carrie AU - Blood of the Covenant

Credits:

Nevo, Dreamtalia and its characters by kyokyo866

Carrie by Stephen King

Content Warnings:

Swearing

Religion/Christianity

Religious Abuse

Child Abuse

Homophobia (slurs are used)

References to smoking

Starring:

Reve and World as Carrie White (Reve Faucher and Nicholas Major)

Nevo as Margaret White (Nathan Major)

(Author's Note: I spent Lent and partway through Easter working on this fic. This is for the 50th anniversary of Carrie. Beta read by my sister. Please remember to thank Tabitha King for making sure Carrie's story was told and kickstarting King's career. )

 "And, ye fathers, provoke not your children to wrath: but bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord." - Ephesians 6:4 (King James Bible)

If it wasn’t worth it, if it wasn’t for his only friend, he’d never do this. If the boy didn’t think there was more to life than prayer, the day of Judgement, and papa- he would happily rot in these four walls till some other horrible disaster came.

(tonight)

The word bounced around his head. 

(i am not afraid of him)

Nicholas, for the first time in his life, was going to do something worse than just say fuck under his father’s roof. Something worse than 

(of whom shall i be afraid)

sharing a quarter cigarette with Reve that one evening. But there was that rising nausea, like the same urge to vomit when he first tasted sin- nicotine.

(she gave of me the tree, and I did eat)

Anxiously, 

(flex)

Nicholas made his pocket change swim in the air around the ceiling light, like sharks circling a lone surfer.

“Nicholas!” Papa called, causing him to shoot up from his bed and drop the coins. “Reve has come over for dinner, come downstairs!”

“Coming!”

The boy looked in the mirror. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders the way Alfred does- minus the boisterous, prideful laughter that accompanied the stance. Nicholas marched downstairs, like a soldier to a battlefield.

—

(it was a dark and stormy night)

As Reve surveyed the dinner table one could most definitely compare it to a battlefield. Despite the polite conversation he had with Mr. Major

(what is your favorite proverb)

the air was thick with tension- the boy might as well cut it with a knife so he could breathe a little. 

Things began to escalate when dessert was presented at the table. Nicholas’ father divided a blueberry pie among the three. Its filling looked thick and slimy, with cane sugar crystals. Fresh, bulbous blueberries were packed together and nestled in the crust. 

When Reve took a bite of his share, he puckered his lips. The pastry was too sour and too sweet all at the same time. “It’s great!” Reve said.

However, Nicholas wasn’t having any of it, literally. He just twirled his fork in his right hand, while his left was scratching his pant leg.

“This is new.” Mr. Major said, “You haven’t touched your pie.”

“It makes me have breakouts.” Nicholas answered firmly, pushing the plate away from himself.

Mr. Major let out an ‘I-know-better’ sigh. He pushed the plate back towards his son. “Pimples are the Lord’s way of hindering pride.” 

“Maybe it’s a Sign I should lay off the sweets.”

Reve jumped in an attempt to de-escalate the situation. “I-I wouldn’t mind taking his share! I have a sweet tooth after all.” Personally, it was in the boys best interest to keep the man placated. 

A pregnant pause.

“Actually,” Reve chimed in once more with an eager grin, “Nicky and I have something important to tell you!”

Mr. Major’s eyebrows raised and he hummed in expectation.

Nicholas looked like a deer in headlights, it was as if he forgot what this dinner was for. The boy’s wide eyes told Reve ‘I can’t do this’.

Reve locked his pinky with Nicholas’ own under the table. 

(im here)

It seemed to say.

“Reve and I…”

(spit it out be a man)

“Have been invited to prom!”

The man froze as though struck by the lightning outside. “Prom.” Mr. Major muttered in horror.

“I’m going to support Reve and-” Nicholas gulped for air a moment, “The coach thinks this could be good for us because, y’know, we’re growing up- and stuff.”

The man’s lips moved but neither boy heard what came out his mouth.

Nicholas pressed on, “V- Mr. Bazarov and Ludwig bought us tickets- so you don’t have to spend a cent.” 

“No.” Mr. Major’s voice raised to an audible volume.

Nicholas began a tangent, “People think we’re- Reve and I- are weird, and not the good kind- the bad kind. And I think we need to learn, to- well- get along with everyone else, before it's too late-”

Nicholas was promptly doused with tea as his father threw it across the table. Some of it got onto Reve’s shirt. Fortunately for the two it was lukewarm. Nicholas sputtered and sniffled quietly.

Reve placed his palms on the table to stand up and voice his outrage-

But Nicholas placed a hand on his knuckles and gave a faux-reassuring squeeze. Reve sat back down. Nicholas’ hand stayed

(i just need you here)

right where it was.

“Go to your closet.” the man snarled.

“I haven’t done anything wrong.” Nicholas protested.

“After all you’ve been taught- you fraternize with a sodomite?”

“He isn’t a bad person, Papa.” Nicholas muttered as he scrubbed tea out of his eyes.

“The moment you stepped into that shower room-” The man heaved a heavy breath, “You exposed yourself to him, those boys- that filth. And even after you were punished for the Sin of Lustful Thoughts- you went back for more.”

“It-” Reve whimpered in a small voice, “It isn’t like that.” No one heard him.

(my siblings arent bad people im not bad am i)

The man shot out of his seat and thundered over to Nicholas. He gripped the boy’s forearm as though he were a chew toy. Mr. Major’s face appeared disturbingly enchanting, with his blue eyes framed by stringy, pink hair.

(this is too much too mu)

“Come to your closet and pray.”

“I haven’t done anything wrong.”

The man raised his hand to strike at Nicholas. The boy seemed resigned to what would come next.

Reve spent a good quarter of his life just…watching Nicholas be treated like everyone’s ragdoll. But remaining seated as his own father did the same? That was just too much.

The sound of Reve smacking away Nathan’s hand was almost as ear shattering as the sudden thunderclap.

Nicholas looked dumbfounded. The man looked offered. And though he was terrified, Reve stood between father and son.

“Don’t you hit Nicky!” Reve shrieked. “He’s your son- he doesn’t deserve that!”

“You have no right to-”

“I do! He’s important to me!” 

Nicholas had doubted that Reve cared. He thought they were only friends of circumstance, but he’d gone and said that. “Reve…”

Reve was shoved and he slammed against the kitchen counter. 

“Reve!” Nicholas ran over to his side, and shot his father a glare.

“Nicholas.” Papa said in a hushed tone. “Tell that man no.”

“I already said I was going.” Nicholas countered as he got Reve to his feet.

“Then tell him you’ve changed your mind!” Nathan nearly hollered. “Or we’ll move! Move somewhere you’ll never see that boy or that teacher again!”

“No- I won’t!”

“That’s final.” Mr. Major walked away as though he had the last word in. 

“I’m not done!” Nicholas screamed.

“I have to close the window. The rain’s getting in the house.” he marched to a nearby window.

“I’ll get them- just please talk to me!” 

And Nicholas flexed. 

At that moment, Reve felt the house shift. Every window slammed shut, even the one upstairs, and the one Mr. Major was going to close and nearly crushed his fingers. 

A large knife dangled inches away from the man’s face as he cowered in a corner.

Nicholas’ fingers flexed and twitched like a malfunctioning machine.

Reve put a hand on Nicholas’ shoulder. “Nicky,” he murmured, “put the knife down.”

Nicholas breathed a staccato of inhales and exhales through his nose.

Reve wrapped his arms around Nicholas’ shoulders, leaned close to his ear and whispered, “Please put that knife down, Nicky.”

The knife fell to the floor

(not worth it hes not worth it)

with a clatter.

“Witch.” Mr. Major breathed. “Devil’s power.”

Nicholas was sniffling, but without any doubt in his mind he said: “The devil’s got nothing to do with this. It’s me- me.”

“And it’s- he’s amazing.” Reve huffed.

“Nonsense.” Mr. Major rose from his crouch. “The devil is cunning. He gives you things- he tricks you- you know what he did to your mother-”

Nicholas chuckled with mirth. “She ran away, Papa.” 

“She was seduced, she vanished into the night-”

“She ran away. Everyone knows that.”

(she knew she knew you were)

Reve put a hand over his mouth; Nicholas’ life was revealed to be more of a hellhole with every new fact he learned about his friend.

(can anyone tell me what abandonment means)

Nicholas sighed, “And I don’t wanna talk about these things anymore.”

(just wanted to talk like how all the other kids do with their)

Reve looked to Nicholas, his father, and then back to his best friend again. 

“Are ya really sure you wanna go to prom? You don’t gotta go just for me.”

Nicholas smiled at him through the tears, the tea and nodded. He gripped Reve’s hand in his “We’re going.” Nicholas looked at his father. “We’re going to prom.”

And that affirmation is what sealed the boys’ fates.

—

Reve opened his umbrella and stepped out of the doorway.

“Have a good night, Reve.”

Reve nearly stepped off the porch. Instead, he whipped around to face Nicholas. He didn’t notice at the time, but he was crying. “Please- please promise me- that if I leave you alone with him, you’ll still call me in the morning.”

Nicholas was confused, but gave him a grin. “Of course, why wouldn’t I?”

“People like him- they- what if he-” Reve’s trembling lips stopped that track of words.

(no no i cant say it)

“Papa won’t do that.” For some reason, Reve felt like the other boy was lying through his teeth. “Things are gonna change around here.”

“Saturday night?” Reve sniffled.

Nicholas cupped Reve’s cheeks, stood on his tiptoes, and kissed away Reve’s tears.

He pulled away. “Saturday night.”

Reve nodded, turned away, and found the courage to drag his feet away from the Major bungalow and walk home.

(Author's Note: Sorry if this piece was heavy- the Carrie AU is kind of a personal story to me (aka mad projecting). I just really wanted to do something for a Stephen King anniversary because both his novels and Dreamtalia itself have carried me through tough times. Thank you for reading.)

(P.S Shout out to anyone who got the Utena reference)

[sntsatticus]

LAURE STEPHENS, @laurestcphens

LOCALE: westriver gardens

There are grieves too heavy to swallow, ghosts too vivid to haunt. Particularly, Nikko never understood tears at a funeral; she never attended many, but the few she had left her achingly confused ⸻ The dead stands right next to the coffin, why were they weeping? ⸻ Death to a child of a necromancer is a subject many don't like hearing about, but it has been her life and the lack of grief seemed only natural. Until. When her mother told her, voice tight but tinged with faint spocks of emotion, she didn't know what to feel. Sadness, yes, how could she not? She adored her godmother like a dog adores an aunt, like an ant enjoys the sun.

They weren't family close, but in a life as solidarity as hers had been, it had been enough. She was mother's dear friend in a way Nikko would never understand ⸻ she doesn't know how mother could care about anyone other than herself, after all ⸻ so it seemed right to feel worry. Questions of her well being were dismissed by her mother, and the girl had been assured her aunt would be contacted beyond the veil.

Grief is strange and she doesn't quite like it, but it's not why she came to avoid her other aunt like one avoids the plague. She fears for whatever vision awaits her, for a ghost she is nowhere near prepared to see, standing next to the woman who is grieving the most. She can't escape it forever, however ⸻ can only rely on her mother's disdain of the woman for so long.

She walks quietly, feet mud stained, gentle and tentative steps taken as her hands grip the pouches she carries. If she lets out a sigh of relief when she sees the woman by herself, no spirit to be found, well.

“Hey, auntie,” the title is a joke, a jest that sends a thrill down her spine when it makes her mother snarl whenever she hears it. Perhaps it is why she always liked Laure; because Desmona absolutely can't stand her, and even this is an act of freedom. “Mother said to give you this.” Two pouches, carefully wrapped, are presented to the vampire. “She is afraid you might not be feeding well.” A concern that is shocking, coming from Desmona. “It's mandrakes, nettle, and rosemary… For hunger. And if you need strength⸻” she shakes the second pouch with a cheeky smile ⸻”ginseng, belladonna, and elderberry. My idea.”

She frowns, for a moment. “Hopefully you don't die.” Looking at Laure, regret fills every crevice of her being for avoiding her, taking so long to come. She doesn't take her aunt for the emotional type, but she was raised better than this. “How are you doing?”

[meadow-dusk]

happy Croz day!

At the time I'm writing this, it's been exactly three months since he's left us. It's almost strange sometimes to consider how different life feels now than it did in January.

One thing that's noticeably bigger in my own is the space I've decided should be filled with as much music as possible. Making, singing, playing, writing, recording, and sharing it have brought me satisfaction and peace of mind in all kinds of ways, however fleeting, and I think David is indirectly responsible for that. So I thought there'd be no better time to share this little piece I have been sitting on for kind of a long time.

I wrote these lyrics in one go last summer on a weekend getaway to a place that felt like it inspired something (it probably helped that the night before I had read like half of Neil's autobiography and took absolutely everything to heart). It aims to tell a poeticized version of my discovery of CSNY back in the very first summer of the pandemic (yes, for once, the "you" is intended to be plural). It tries to do justice to some of the lessons they taught me, and I even slipped in some lyrical references here and there, like the best of them aren't afraid to do. The chords came much, much later, and the melodies later still. And if there's one thing I've learned, it's never really done growing.

So this one goes out as a thank you to David, Stephen, Graham, and Neil for helping me find the part of me that is trying to believe she deserves to try to say something of value through art too.