#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)

[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.

[bokumonoexchange]

Go Forth and Exchange: Tips for participating in Exchanges from a fandom veteran.

So, having both participated in and moderated exchanges over the past many years, there's a few common questions and issues I see arise in regards to taking part in them. I thought I'd make a nice little list to address some of these, to help and encourage not only possible participants in the Bokumono Exchange, but any kind of fandom exchange.

(Disclaimer that is is all based on my own personal experience and what I've witnessed. Obviously there will be exceptions at times and only you know if this advice will help you, but I only come at this from a good faith standpoint).

"I don't know what to ask for"/"I'm afraid to ask for too much/too little."

This can range from only having one or two requests, to having too many. More often than not, a fandom exchange will prompt you to submit some sort of variety in terms of characters/pairings (unless it's a character/pairing specific exchange).

Maybe you have your heart set one specific trope - you really really need that Pete/Kai first kiss! - or maybe you have no preferences at all; heck, you wanna see everyone from Westown, Lulukoko and Tsuyukusa in big group photo if the artist is feeling up to it. So how do you find that happy medium where you're giving the artist/writer enough to work with, but not trapping them?

My advice boils down to two things:

Take your time, and be honest.

It's SO TEMPTING to immediately submit the second sign-ups open - because what if you forget? But if you aren't sure what you want, take your time and consider! Obviously this isn't something you have to devote an entire day to, but spend a minute or two thinking about what you've enjoyed recently (or even not-too-recently) in terms of movies, books, games, fanfics/fanarts you've loved. What ticks your boxes, and what about Bokumono games in particular really appeals to you? Even if it's considered cliche (seasons, festivals, animals, etc), we love this series for a reason - because it has many aspects and activities that are tried and true.

And on the flip side, if the ships/characters/tropes you want are rare or niche, don't be afraid to ask for them, either! What I've noticed in moderating the Bokumono Exchange is that a lot of participants ask for rare pairs, and a lot of their gifters are more than happy to deliver.

Also, most moderators will allow you to edit or entirely re-do your application within the sign-up period if you at some point change your mind, so don't feel you're locked into what you decided.

An exchange is about both the giving and the getting; you should, in the end feel happy/satisfied with both ends of it.

Which leads to the second issue that I see crop up:

"I don't have an idea for my giftee"/"I don't feel I can deliver what they're asking for."

Ah, yes, the fear of not being able to make something your giftee will like. Again, from my experience, most if not all people participating in exchanges are not going to expect to be gifted The Sistine Chapel or Stephen King's next great novel. I've always noticed that, above all, my gifters have been enthusiastic and excited for the exchange; "quality" (which is subjective anyway) is not something I pay attention to, since there is no skill requirements for this exchange.

That being said, I do think that it can (not always) be obvious when a piece is slapped together last-minute. I've stated this in the FAQ of the collection on ao3, but it's important, in my opinion, to make something that you would feel good about receiving.

As for not knowing what to create? My first suggestion is, if their tumblr/twitter and/or ao3 is provided, peruse through them to see if anything piques your interest in terms of what their interests/bookmarks are. I have sent questions to recipients in the past via tumblr to (stealthily) get a better gauge on their fave characters/games.

If that fails, talk to the moderator. In my case, I'm more than willing to talk to the giftee to try and obtain further information; I've taken on the role of moderator knowing this might be asked of me, so it's definitely not "bugging" me in any sense if you need me to reach out.

And speaking of communication, that leads me to the final topic.

"I might need an extension/need to drop out but don't know what to say."

It's always better to err on the side of caution. Even if you might need an extra day or two, it's better to ask ahead of time and get it done early then try and force yourself to get it done by the due date, and burn yourself out. Most moderators, myself included, are perfectly fine with a simple one or two sentence explanation such as: "I've been getting over a cold this week. Could I have until the 30th to finish my piece?" or "I have way more homework this semester than I expected. I'm going to have to drop out of the exchange." As someone who has been through more than enough this past year+ myself, I'm not going to judge or admonish anyone for signing up and then needing to drop out or needing an extension. Ultimately, it's considerably more frustrating to have no communication at all than to have anyone ask for an extension or drop out.

Hopefully you find these helpful! If you have any additional questions or want further elaboration, my ask box here and on my personal (@/jake-marshall) are open. :)

~Mod Flik

[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.

[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.

[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

[mage-of-black-robes]

Love Letter.

Ok, here goes nothing. I've never been good at this whole thing, always messing up my words or simply not saying anything because I'm afraid. It's even harder when it's someone that you work with, who you admire. But I guess it's better I put it down in this letter and see where it goes. So yes, I have a crush on you. I don't want to ruin a friendship, I don't want to scare you off and so I thought that writing it in a letter that is left unsigned might help. Sort of. Like I said, I'm no good at this, but I wanted to try. God I hope that you don't think any less of me for saying that I like you. I don't want to lose you Raistlin.

Love Letter | @mxrvelouscreations (I think)

Raistlin stared down at the letter in his hands in stunned silence. He’d found it on the desk in his office after finishing his last class of the day, and had read it at least ten times over since then, as if attempting to burn the words into his memory permanently.

Someone had a crush on him.

Though the letter was indeed unsigned, the cadence of the words sounded so familiar in his mind, to the point that he even read them in the voice of a man who had grown very dear to him as of late. It had to have been him, right? Was this the reason why Stephen had always seemed so nervous around him? Raistlin could feel himself quickly growing hot under the collar at the thought of his secret affection for the older man being reciprocated, and knew what he had to do. What he’d been wanting to do for weeks. Taking a deep breath, he pulled out his phone and sent off a couple of quick texts.

[text]{Professor Mason 💜} - If you’re still here and have a moment, could you please stop by my office?

[text]{Professor Mason 💜} - It’s nothing bad, I swear. I just really need to see you.

Shaking hands were stuffed in his pockets as he waited, anxious and eager.

[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

[goodluckclove]

How do you deal with a bad writing day after hyping yourself up for a productive one? I've been trying to comfort myself, but it's difficult.

It's entirely normal to criminalize yourself for not meeting your own expectations. If you're young or just starting out it's pretty par for the course to feel like a developing craft is something that'll flicker out if you're not constantly fanning the flame and feeding it tinder. It definitely took me a few completed drafts before I had enough confidence to go a month without working on a project and not tell myself that I've lost it forever.

There's still flashes of anxiety. I imagine it's true across the board for artists. But at least for me it's a lot easier to manage after time.

You feel like you failed? Okay, great! You're going to fail a lot as a writer. It's inevitable, and lucky for us the stakes are pretty low. You have to really TRY to like crucially fail in writing by like lying about being a minority to get a book deal or being an actual criminal. Other than that it's more likely you'll just write things that don't work, or get rejected from publishers, or put something up and get either unasked for criticism or blanket silence. It's pretty hard at first, but it's VERY useful to shrug it off when things like that don't go your way and just move on.

Of course you're disappointed. You wanted to write and it didn't go the way you wanted. But there's a lot of nuance here. Maybe your version of productive isn't the productive your writing needed right now. You could've written a few lines that feel like nothing but later on solidify something important or change the course of your plan. All writing is useful. ANY writing is useful. Writers like Stephen King have a daily schedule of like 2k words almost every day of the year, and that might seem like the goal since he's very successful. But also I've read a lot of King's work and like a third of it is insane nonsense. ALSO also Stephen King's writing schedule is likely less to do with the discipline of being an Inherently Better Writer and more to do with the amount of coke he did (I.E. a ton of it, nearly constantly).

And if you didn't write a single goddamned word? Yeah man, that actually means you're bad and failed and should probably quit writing and get a job as Old Navy as the in-house Sad Guy. That's also fine. It's normal. It's probably good, actually. Artists need to do things other than art - both cool adventures like going a museum or a park and being Artsy in Public, and also boring errands. You need to be in the world as much as you can. It's crucial, especially for younger creatives. There's a chance you ended up not writing and instead like just fell down some sort of online scroll spiral - and yes, that's a bummer. Net negative. But it's not a moral failure, especially when so much of social media is literally engineered to get you to do that.

Listen to your body. Writing probably makes you feel good - hopefully, at least. Whatever you did instead maybe didn't make you feel good. Is it because it's unhealthy and disregulating, or was it fun but you felt you were supposed to do something else instead?

If it's the former take note and try and substitute the behavior next time it happens. If I don't feel like I'm able to write the way I want to I like to watch a cool movie. Maybe go out somewhere, either to do house errands or maybe see a Nature. Lately I've been playing Terraria and listening to a podcast or video essays. You wanted this to happen and something got in the way. That sucks, but you keep doing this and it'll happen a lot.

If it's the latter, be kind to yourself. There's a Little Creature in your chest and he's afraid that if he stops pushing towards the thing that's important to you he won't be able to work up the effort again. His name is Ryan and he's very tired and disappointed in himself. He is maybe a fat racoon and he has little grubby hands. You should maybe go ahead and tell Ryan its okay. Give him a grape and a pat on the head and promise the world won't end.

In short: you're okay. Regardless of the circumstances. Feel your feelings, but at a point it's no longer productive. If you need the validation - I am a working writer, produced and published (both self-pub and in journals), and I promise you it is not a sin to have an off day. I also have off days. You can come out of the time out corner. Have a snack - fruit, maybe, or something with protein. Maybe make yourself a fun drink. Get back to work when you're ready.

[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!

[edwin-paynes-bowtie]

What are your favorite Taylor Swift songs?

Oooh, yes! I like almost all of her songs, but the ones that stand out as immediate faves are (in no particular order) fresh out the slammer, but daddy i love him, how you get the girl, hey stephen, happiness, gold rush, is it over now?, cowboy like me, who's afraid of little old me?, tiwwchnt, gorgeous, don't blame me, getaway car, better than revenge, castles crumbling, so high school, i think he knows, cruel summer, would've could've should've, midnight rain, chloe or sam or sophia or marcus, i hate it here, death by a thousand cuts, and style.

[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.

[kamyru]

Pastry, cats, and break up songs. Chapter 1: I knew you were trouble

Oops! I Said Yes?! AU

Summary: As you are closer to finish your degree in food engineering, you decide to start working part-time at "Takeru's moving castle" - a small but very loved pastry shop that is placed right in front of the "Snowdrop" veterinary clinic and "Snowdrop" pet shop. Who could have guessed that on your first day as a cashier you would piss off one of the regulars? You had no idea why, no one had any idea why, and it wasn't in his style. But you accidentally get tangled in his life and he in yours. Or was it from even before? He helps you, you help him. And in between, you eat pastry, save cats, and scream break-up songs every now and then.

Content warning for this chapter: Brief mention of an injured cat, but no detailed description. The cat is okay. I promise.

Author's notes: So… It's been more than a year since I mentioned my first multi-chapter Voltage Inc AU. I'm sorry for taking so long to publish this. However, I'm back in the fandom! You have to thank Meguro Chigaya for this. I hope you'll welcome me back and I'll try to post more about Voltage Inc. Anyway, as you see in the title, the fic is called "Pastry, cats, and break-up songs" and, because of this, some of the chapters will have names from break-up songs. This one is named after "I knew you were trouble" by Taylor Swift. Also, this chapter contains mild description of an injured cat, but nothing serious. The kitty is fine. All the cats in this fic will be fine. But some of the characters work in a vet clinics, so injured animals appear every now and then. None of them have a bad injury and all of them are happy in the end. I'm not Stephen King, I promise. So, please enjoy this chapter and look forward to more. Don't hesitate to tell me your opinions. I can't wait to see if you liked it or not.

Word counting: 4476

For the past week, you got sick of cleaning tables and remembering the menu. Being behind the counter gave you a better view on the pastry, even if it was testing your will. However, as enthusiastic as you were to start a new work, you were also nervous. How would it be to have your first customer? What were the most popular pastry choices? How much were people ready to pay for these pieces of culinary art?

“I would like to have a strawberry shortcake, a piece of crepe cake with peach jam, and a castella.”

So… Here he was: your first customer. Black leather jacket on top of a plain white t-shirt, long eyelashes that made his sharp eyes seem like he got stuck in a teenage emo phase, a mole right under his left eye, and was it a single dimple on one of his cheeks? Oops! You had to give him his order. It didn’t seem so hard. As you expected, the strawberry shortcake and the peach jam sweets were a hit. The crepe cake was so soft, you were afraid it would break down before you moved it. The jam was spilling out, making you salivate. You put it in a different box from the other two to avoid staining and destabilizing them. A little bit more and your first customer was done…

“Can you tell me from what part of Japan the peaches from the peach jam are?”

The sound of the receipt printing fainted in the air and you looked at the customer. His dark eyes were staring right at you from way before your eyes met. He crossed his hands across his chest and raised a brow. 

“At this price, I would expect them to be from Okayama,” the man stated. The sharp eyes were now looking directly at you, without tolerating any delay in answers. 

“I am sorry, unfortunately I don’t have any information regarding the peaches from the jam. But I can consult our chief and tell you in a bit.”

Shit… How could you be so incompetent? You tried to wreck your brain in search of the information the client needed. Maybe it was written someone in the papers Mr. Momose gave you. Though, you had never expected to need it.

“Don’t bother yourself now. Better tell me what type of honey was used in the castella,” the client continued his interrogation. 

“It is natural acacia honey,” you said, proud to know at least this one. Kiriya told you to memorize the types of honey used as ingredients, because some people had an allergy to one type, without having to another one. 

“Can it be contaminated with linden or other flowers?”

You didn’t know. Could it be? At a course in your university, you learned that it was possible. But you didn’t remember reading anything like this on the package. It most probably was mentioned, however, which one exactly? Was it flowers, linden, buckwheat or something else? 

Upon seeing the hesitance in your answer, the client rolled his eyes and put his hands in his pockets. 

“Give me my money back, Miss L/N,” he read on your tag. “I refuse to buy anything from such an incompetent worker.”

The receipt that you had in your hands fell on the counter. It was seven-thirty on a Monday morning and the guy in front of you was your first client ever in retail work. For a split second, you remembered your last online commission, the one you had to give up and return the money to the client. For the first time in months, you could visualize something in your mind. And as soon as you thought that giving up on your new job was a good idea, Kiriya patted you on the shoulder - the image disappeared and the face of the client in front of you became clear again. He had an eyebrow raised. You stepped aside to give Kiriya some space. He made you watch him attentively and remember how to give the money back. You tried your best, but your brain didn’t want to cooperate. 

“Show me how to do it,” Kiriya said and you understood that the client already left. 

You looked at the barista in front of you. His messy bangs were falling in waves on his eyes, but it wasn’t enough to cover their impatience. So, you looked from the cash machine at your colleague and back. He sighed and slowed down, showing you the order the buttons have to be pressed.

“I don’t understand what you told Kiba. He is one of our regulars and it’s the first time I see him like this. It’s probably the longest he has ever talked with any of our staff.”

You pressed the buttons in the same order as Kiriya. He told you to do it again and again. It had to be habitual by the time someone else asked you to give them their money back. However, you hoped it wouldn’t be too soon. 

“He started questioning me the moment I wanted to give him the receipt,” you explained to your senior colleague. You stopped taping the buttons to look at him as he was frowning. Something wasn’t adding up and you couldn’t understand why you were the one to piss off one of the regulars. 

“I’ll stay near you when I don’t have clients, to make sure you are not messing up again,” Kiriya told you. It gave you an ounce of reassurement. You knew that Kiriya wasn’t there to protect you, but his presence was enough to give you courage that he could step up in case you made a mistake. 

But you didn’t. The next clients were as smooth as you hoped the first one to be. One old lady even complimented you, saying that it was a blessing to meet someone so pretty that early in the morning. You smiled even broader. Kiriya didn’t, but he wasn’t complimented, so it was okay. And soon, your working day finished. 

You wanted to eat your lunch. You wanted to try some more of the pastry displayed in front of you this whole day. But there was something you needed more: to buy food for your cat at home. You asked Suzumu to do it a few times, but since you asked him, your flatmate didn’t leave his house and you weren’t sure if it was because he didn’t want to do it, or because he was busy again with programming problems. Suzumu loved your cat, he was the one to convince you to sneak it inside and to virtuously lie to the landlord. But besides cleaning its litter every now and then, all he was doing was just to pet it and give it treats. And that traitor of the cat you had, loved him more than you. 

So, you left the counter and crossed the street to enter the pet shop that was right in front of the pastry shop you were working at: Snowdrop Pet Shop. It was placed at the ground floor of a building. On the first floor was the Snowdrop Vet Clinic. 

“Let’s go eat, Kuranosuke,” a voice yelled from between the aisles when you opened the door. 

“I have packed lunch,” another voice that seemed familiar, answered from behind the counter. 

“I know that Kasumi told you to fill in the hours for Sachi after you made her leave, but he has never told you to overwork yourself,” the aisle guy continued. You ignored their conversation and started to search for food for Sadako. It wasn’t very hard - it was right near the counter. So, you picked it and went to pay for it, without even looking at the guy who made the previously mentioned “Sachi” leave. Only after you didn’t hear the beep from the scanning machine did you raise your head. You opened and closed your mouth again. In front of you were dark eyes with long eyelashes that seemed out of an emo era, a mole under the left eye, straight hair perfectly parted on the side. Even in his uniform, you could recognize your first client. Damn, you weren’t a vengeful person, but a plan was forming inside your head when you saw his hand going after the receipt. 

“Wait! I think I forgot something,” you said in the most polite voice possible. You thought that maybe he didn’t sense your hesitation at first. You weren’t even sure if he recognised you or not, nor did you care. It was hard to maintain a straight face as you were going towards a basket to put as many packs of cat food as you could. You took a few from each type the company the first one was from and went back to the counter. Deep breaths - not to laugh before the guy scanned all the packs. Beep, beep, beep, you lost counts, but they were more than twenty. 

“Do you need something else?” the worker asked when you were taking out your wallet. You knew that you didn’t have enough money to pay for everything. It was just a little more than for one pack. But you didn’t need much. It was just enough.

“Can you tell me what is the difference between all these types?” you asked in the most sugar coated voice you could manage. If the old lady that called you pretty in the morning heard it, she would have probably melted into a puddle. But the man in front of you just sighed. 

“These ones, the pink ones, are for neutered male cats that are older than one year. They prevent the formation of kidney stones. Do you have a male or a female cat?”

You ignored his question and showed towards another pack. 

“These ones are for cats that have allergies.”

BINGO! It was exactly what you needed!

“Is there any document that proves it can’t be contaminated with what my cat is allergic to, Mr. Kiba?” you asked after reading his name tag. If he didn’t understand till now who you were, he definitely just got the biggest hint. 

“It is all written on the back of the pack, if you care to look,” the man said and clicked his tongue, as he took the bag in his hands to search for the information you needed.

“I don’t have enough time to read all of it. Unlike you, I don’t have a packed lunch. But very much like you, I don’t want to deal with an incompetent workers that don’t even know what they sell here.”

The bag fell on the counter. You raised your head to make sure Kiba saw your grin. 

“Can you cancel the entire purchase?”

“Can you put everything you took back in place?” he hissed while trying to force a smile out of himself. You heard a chuckle. Kiba’s coworker that was between the aisles all this time, came closer to see the commotion. You could feel how your cheeks started to burn a little. On one hand, you felt proud about fighting for yourself. On the other hand, you didn’t want to be a trouble-maker. However, the other guy seemed quite entertained and he even smiled at you, gesturing to you to continue what you were doing. 

“I’m not Sachi to do the job that is your responsibility,” you mumbled barely audibly, not sure if you took it too far or not. 

Kiba leaned to be closer to you, making you take a step back and close your eyes, afraid of what could come. He wouldn’t do anything, especially in front of anyone else, would he? Japanese customer service was famous all over the world. A random guy from a random pet shop wouldn’t do anything to make it to the first page of the newspapers with his aggression towards a customer, would he? When you opened your eyes, Kiba was with the basket you used to put the cat food in his hands. He took every bag from the counter and put it in there, checking on you from time to time. You followed his moves, already forgetting that you were supposed to leave after the Sachi comment. 

“Do you want something else?” Kiba hissed and put away the basket, somewhere on the floor, near his legs. You looked over the counter and saw that the only package you needed wasn’t on the surface, took a deep breath and closed your eyes.

“Yes. I need the regular one for neutered female cats.”

The guy behind you burst out laughing and accidentally hit a squeaky toy on the ground. The whole shop was hit with a wave of high-pitched deafening squeak, combined with a hysterical laugh. You opened your eyes.

Kiba scanned the bag after putting away all the packages from above. It took him at least two minutes, in which you couldn’t help but cough in failed attempts to cover your own laugh. 

“Here’s your purchase and your receipt,” the clerk finally said, tired from the whole interaction. 

“You forgot the most important thing, Kuranosuke. You forgot to tell our client that we are waiting for her to visit us again soon,” the other man said while you were on your way to exit. You waved at him and he waved back, winking at you. Again, you felt your cheeks getting hotter. You weren’t Kiba’s first client and you didn’t destroy his morning, but he would definitely remember you for at least a few days, and his friend would make sure to remember it for longer. 

“Now we are equal, Mr. Kiba,” you whispered as you went towards the bicycle in front of the pastry shop. 

The next challenge for the day was the university. You didn’t have too many lessons that day, but you had your appointment with the curator you chose for your thesis. And the entire road to the university you were thinking about what to tell him. He was in high demand between all the students and even refused a doctoral student that had a similar idea with yours but came to him later. He also told you from the start that he would collaborate with you only if you were willing to put in enough effort. Your topic was about “The importance of the allelopathic effect in edible plants,” while the doctoral student wanted to write about “The allelopathic effect in the agriculture industry”. Both of your topics were of great importance and with lots of work to put in, but apparently the professor chose yours because he wanted to try himself in the food engineering field, being already too burned-out from agriculture. You won due to simple luck: approaching the professor first and being from a new field of interest for him. Of course, you felt sorry for the doctoral student who couldn’t get the professor that they wanted, but it only motivated you to work harder on your subject. Plus, you didn’t even know who the other person was. You heard about them only from your professor who wanted to motivate you to put on as much work as you were capable of. They could even be immaginary from what you knew, just as a form of manipulation. 

And it seemed endless, the whole meeting with the professor. Yes, you made a plan regarding the experiments you had to make, what seeds to buy, on what days to come to the lab, how to get your money back from the university, how to use the lab, how to wash your hands. Firstly, you planned to go home and re-read all the information you had to know for work. Now, remembering something new seemed like an impossible task. As you rode your bicycle, a strong craving for some pastry hit you. It was somewhere in the back of your mind in the morning, since you were behind the counter, reading all the names displayed there. But all the stress made you forget till now, when a wave of exhaustion hit you hard, and made it impossible to put any force into ignoring the craving. And your only option seemed to be the convenience store pastry. It wasn’t that bad, especially from that one market at the corner of your building. They had a type of chocolate cake that both you and Suzumu could kill for, even each other. But everything else they had was just as good. 

Park the bike, lock it, enter the store, and right towards the last aisle. You could faintly see the contour of a pastry container. It was right in front of you, right under your hand and when you wanted to grab it and go directly to the counter, someone took it. You turned your head towards the person, to put a face on the maddening situation. And… What the fuck? Who did this person think he was to spend money on convenience store pastry that had questionable ingredients, but cancel the order on you who were selling high-class pastry?

“Oh, so you don’t have any objections regarding the ingredients here?” you asked before thinking.

“All of them are written on the package. I don’t need to ask anyone about them,” came the answer and was getting away faster, as Kiba was walking towards the counter. 

“Is it written there if the chocolate used for the couverture grew near banana or coconut trees, in case you have allergies?”

Kiba stopped and looked directly in your eyes. Damn, you were annoying and had some guts. Usually, it was enough for people to look once in his eyes and get lost, but not, you had to follow him around with your revenge and smartass retorts! Your phone vibrated and using this, Kiba left you behind once again. However, he didn’t expect you to ignore the phone and run to him to snitch away the pastry. Even you were surprised by your actions. But it was how justice was supposed to work. There was no way a guy who didn’t buy good quality pastry was going to just buy the convenience store one!

“HEY!” he yelled behind you and you could hear how he was running after you. Your phone vibrated again, but you were already in front of the cashier. “It’s mine!” Kiba yelled at the cashier and the worker probably saw the whole scene, because he didn’t take it from you yet. Kiba put his hands on the package, and you tightened your grip. He pulled it towards him, you pulled it towards you. The cashier ticked his tongue. 

“Can I scan it?”

Both of you ignored the cashier. Both of you ignored your phone. Everything that mattered was the pastry that both of you were craving this whole day after not getting any from “Takeru’s Moving Castle”. Pull, push, pull, pull, push, pull again and BAM! The chocolate pastry is on the floor. You looked at Kiba, Kiba looked at you and synchronized, you turned to the cashier and bowed, apologizing. The guy that seemed to be a high-schooler, looked outside and craned his neck to look between the aisles. When he saw no one, he went towards the cleaning tools behind him. He handed them to both of you and without saying a single word, the three of you understood the assignments you had to do. Your phone rang again, as you took the scoop. 

“Yes?” you finally answered and Kiba rolled his eyes. All this time you ignored it and now you found enough time to see what was the matter. “What? Why didn’t you tell me earlier? Since when did she disappear? I’m coming now!”

You threw what you scooped in the bucket and ran towards the exit. You faintly heard the accusation of running away from both men. But you couldn't care less. You actually were ready to pay all the money you had for the accusations to be true, if it was enough to get your cat back. 

It was Suzumu who called to tell you that your landlord came visiting, so he had to take Sadako out. But for the first time, Sadako was nowhere to be found after the landlord left. Suzumu searched for her since you were in the university, afraid you would yell at him for being neglectful. However, both of you knew he just seemed neglectful. Sadako meant for Suzumu just as much as she meant for you, especially because he was spending most of the time at home, together with the cute, fluffy, tuxedo cat you illegally took into your apartment. God, you could even leave the meeting with your professor if it meant that you could find your cat sooner. Maybe he would have changed his mind, refused you and taken in the doctoral student with the same idea as you. But you didn’t care. Sadako, your cat, the softest, most precious, lovely, and playful being in your entire life was missing and you had to find her FAST. 

“SADAKO! Sadako! Where are you? I have your favorite food! Sadako?” you yelled on your way home, hoping your little girl was still somewhere close. 

Suzumu ran onto you and explained all the places he already looked for. He seemed out of breath and the hoodie he was always wearing was covered in dust and ground. 

“Go home, I’ll take the search from here,” you said in a quiet voice. Your flatmate seemed to be searching for the cat for hours already. He deserved some rest. 

“I wanted to search for the park next. It’s big. You’ll need help,” Suzumu said between huffs and puffs. He was so, so tired.

“It’s okay. I’ll manage. Someone has to make sure she didn’t returned yet.”

You would find her. You had to. There was no other way. No one else could find Sadako but you. If you had to search every bush and tree in the park, you would do it. Sadako would be safe in your hands tonight.

“Sadako! Sadako! Did you see a black and white cat nearby? She is very fluffy and answers to the name Sadako. No? Oh, sorry. Sadako! SADAKO! Sadako…”

There was no person in the park that didn’t hear you yelling after your cat. Some of them even stopped to ask you who you were searching for. Some of them helped you a little. A few asked to send them photos of your cat and your contacts to tell you if they see her. It took you an entire hour to reach the other entrance of the park when you usually were making the same distance in fifteen minutes. And Sadako was nowhere to be found. So, you took a break on one of the benches and messaged Suzumu who was waiting for you at home. He said that the cat didn’t come back and he didn’t see her near the house. What if the poor cat was hit by a car? What if she was somewhere, afraid and alone, having no idea what to do next? Yes, she was born on the streets, but you took her in after you saw her near the garbage, all alone and wet. She was only a few days old back then and you had to feed her milk with a pipette. She knew nothing about hunting and surviving on the streets. Your cat was a total homebody that went outside for max ten minutes every time your landlord came unexpectedly. 

You looked at the sky to stop yourself from crying. Having foggy eyes wouldn’t help you find Sadako. So, you blinked fast and looked at the bush right in front of you. And you saw something. It seemed to be like a fluff of some type. A few bushes away you saw something similar that ended up being a piece of wool. But you still hoped. Maybe it was…

“SADAKO!” you yelled when the body of your cat appeared behind the bush. You ran towards her, to make sure your cat was okay. She was lying on her side and raised her head a little when heard her name. You could see her ears moving and when you touched her, she started purring. However, you also saw some blood on her white fur. 

“Don’t move it!” a voice yelled at you as you knelt in front of your cat. When you look at the person who said it, you frowned. What the hell did he want now?

“Look, I don’t have time to deal with you now. My cat…” you started, as Kiba was approaching.

“I work for a vet clinic. This cat can be injured. If you don’t move it with care, you can injure it further. Wait a second, and I’ll help you.”

You looked at Kiba whose broad shoulders turned to you. He called someone and talked a little. Then, he took Sadako in his hands and palpated her a little, careful not to cause her any more pain. 

“Good girl,” he whispered as Sadako rubbed against his hand. She purred louder and licked Kiba’s hand. You didn’t know she was capable of that. Every time someone except for you and Suzumu tried to touch her, she was either running away or hissing at them. So, you looked closer at Kiba, trying to understand what made him so special. You couldn’t find anything, just the naturally sharp expression that wasn’t softening even a second. 

You came back to reality when someone’s car honked close to the park. This made Kiba get up with Sadako in his hands. He walked with her, without giving you any explanations, except for one stopping and looking at you with a raised eyebrow, as if asking you if you were coming. Of course, you were! Sadako was your cat. 

“Take care of my car, Boss,” the driver said and you felt like you saw him somewhere before. He gave the keys to Kiba and left to catch a taxi. Kiba turned to you and let you take Sadako, but only after explaining how to hold her.

“Don’t let her move too much. She seems to be fine, just a little scared, but we can’t be sure just now. Get in the car. We are going back to my workplace.”

And you got in the car near Kiba, who was driving you to the Snowdrop Vet Clinic. 

“Everything will be alright,” he mumbled, without even looking at you, as he turned on the engine. 

You let out a breath. There was something regarding your first client who asked about the cross contamination of the honey that made you believe that everything would actually be alright. That all the trouble was in the past and soon, Sadako would purr in your bed as you two were cuddling for sleep. 

Kiba smelt faintly like chocolate cake. 

[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?