#i got a couple of horror flicks from the library this week though. going to watch them next week once i get some major coursework done :3

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Hobbit Soulmate Pt 40

“Time to celebrate with food,” your dad said easing the book in front of him shut glad he at least had the figures for a rough estimate on how much wood in each type you’d be wanting. “I’ll take these back down and get the meat ready for the burgers.”

“Oh I’ll have to get some stuff,”

“No hurry,” he said lifting them all as you eased back on your heeled wedges and collected your bag on the way out joining him on the trip down the stairs to share what you’d told him you’d like for flooring, the islands and shelves to settle those plans for the installation right away.

Once in the cool air again you turned for the market and at the ring from your phone you pulled it from your pocket seeing Liv’s name on the screen.

“Hey, thought you were still on your honeymoon.”

“Barbados was lovely. I’m so sorry you had to work.”

“That’s ok I’m glad you loved your destination wedding.”

“Well we just got back in yesterday morning, how have you been? You’re still in Canada right?”

“Well I’m in New  York this week dad got nominated for an MTV award so I’m going with him.”

“Oh that’s amazing! We’re going too! We can have a get together after, at least a dinner.”

“Ya, sounds great hear a good chunk of the guys and Peter will be there too for their noms.”

“So what have you been up to in the city? Wandering again?”

“Dad actually set up a tour of a brownstone for me, put down some money on it and got the keys.”

“That’s so incredible, I want to know everything!”

“Well it’s five stories with the basement level, eight bedrooms seven bath,”

“That is huge compared to mine, did you get a good deal? Mine was nearly a tear down had to gut the whole thing.”

“Well the old tenant trashed the place and the landlord had been doing some repairs replacing a bunch after my dad sort of reserved it for me by putting some of his money down. Took out some walls to make more living room, space for the kitchen and an actual dining room. And it needs new floors and cabinets but the plumbing and wiring and heat, ac and fireplaces have been fixed, water heater and I think he said they redid the roof too when they had to fix a beam up there. So it’s rough but it’s so pretty in my head. And it has the cutest guest bath on the main floor under the stairs and all these arches and beams through the house.”

“Aww, I love my guest bath too and the beams always add great character to help if you go the classic look. You have to show us all after the show. Give us the full tour.”

“Ok, should be fun Dad’s talking to the Landlord now to set the floor appointments. Is it weird that I want carpet, everywhere I go they always talk nonstop about their wood floors but I really want some carpet.”

“Not at all I love the carpet in my bedroom and on the second floor. Oh this is so much fun, we can swap stories when you get done with this show and I can help take you shopping if you like to decorate. So much fun.”

“Yes, might take a while though, Rich is glad I’m interested in making my own home here that we can share but I don’t want to make it too much mine, you know?”

“He’ll love anything you do with it as long as he’s got his space he can explode in as he likes.”

“Well there’s this kind of cute open study on the top floor by our bedroom I was gonna give him to have all his for his pacing or rehearsing or whatnot. And I can take the little strip of a room on the main floor behind the stairs for a sort of library reading nook.”

“I love it already and I haven’t even seen it. You got a good price on it?”

“1.5 mil, everything else on the block is three plus. It was more till it got trashed.”

“No judgment there I thought mine was a horror show. Especially the basement, right out of a horror flick. But the bones were so beautiful. I know it’s terrifying having your first grown up home I was your age roughly when I got mine, and trust me it is worth it.”

“Well it will be fun to show off and I can stash your wedding present there for when we get there.”

“Oh you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Yes I did, couldn’t just leave the poor thing on the shelf when I saw it.”

“I can’t wait.” She heard the mingling of voices while you approached the door to the store and asked, “Are you in the subway?”

“No, heading to pick up some things for dinner. Dad said he wants burgers. Have the meat just need some sides.”

Her doorbell rang and you could hear her move to climb onto her couch to peer out the front window at the door to say as her hubby got the food from the delivery boy, “Perfect timing here’s our dinner too. I’ll let you hunt for food and see you tomorrow, Love you hun.”

“Love you too,” you said, with her hang up signaling you to close the phone to pocket it again.

A circle of a display of canned sauces drew your focus to the hatted man with camera hanging against his belly that moved from tailing you at the sight of towards Nicholas Cage on his way to scout for something down the grocery aisles. Looking away you continued on to pick out some barbecue sauce knowing you were out along with ketchup and some pickles you added to the basket you’d tucked in the crook of your arm. Buns were added as well and you were off to the noodles. A pasta salad would be simple to go with some potatoes and veggies you were off to get next over macaroni you didn’t want to make from scratch right now as the boxes were all gone. French fries were still locked in your freezer with the frozen meat patties so you were good there.

Aloofly again your eyes scanned over the display of corn looking less than top of the line to pick from and with bag in hand you lifted your first choice turning it over only to hear, “What are you doing here?”

The tone of harsh superiority scolding of an assumed inferior let you know just which idiot the familiar voice belonged to, Adrien Brody stood on your left in a focused stare down at you and adding the corn to the bag. You said, “I feel like this is a trick question.”

“You really have to come here to shop in Lower Manhattan?”

“Ya.” You said turning your head to the corn selecting another to twist on the bag you added to your basket to move onto the potatoes baffling the actor even more.

“Honestly there’s nowhere else you can shop? This is where I shop.”

While you grabbed a bag of potatoes you replied, “I should warn you there’s a strong policy against people urinating in public places this place enforces should you be trying to mark it like a tree.” Towards a teen worker being shouted at you walked with eyes narrowing at the man who felt he had the right to shout over nothing.

Adrien scoffed following after you at a distance. Then watched as the man turn clearly recognizing you, “When are you going to get some decent help here?! I’ve been trying to tell this little illegal here that I’m looking for the chocolate chili powdered mixed nuts in the blue Planters tin with cashews and walnuts, and clearly this concept is just beyond his grasp!”

Splotchy in what food based Filipino you knew around the brand name you translated for the teen what the guy wanted and the teen scoffed saying in English, “Why didn’t he just say that?” Turning to head to the wall where the display had been moved, not twenty feet from the now red faced man. “Shout about illegal, I’m from Boise.” He grabbed the top tray with a flat expression returned allowing the man to promptly grab his four tins and turn to the registers to flee while you shared an elbow bump with your former coworker that turned to put the tray back.

Continuing on you went to grab some cheese and sour cream with Adrien again at your side, “Do you now him?”

“I trained him,” You said glancing up at him, “Worked here for years, if anything you’ll have a hard time having me barred from your tree, Cupcake.”

“Not a cupcake.” He looked to his basket, “Maybe then you’d know where they’d be hiding the lemon juice.”

“Juice aisle,”

“Looked there,”

“Top shelf by the sparkling cider and the glass apple juice jars. Try tilting your head back, I know, foreign concept for you possibly from your altitude.”

In a disbelieving tone he said, “Fine, I’ll humor you, but if it isn’t there I win.”

“What do I get if I win?” You teased and he huffed turning to check your guess for the location. While the cheese was found and passing the aisle you caught his glare at the juice right where you said it’d be and smirked on your way up to the registers.

Glancing down the register aisles for who was working you picked the one you knew would have the least trouble with your produce and waited. Four people were in front of you while in Adrien’s approach to the line on your right with two people he smirked your way assuming he’d picked the faster path home until his face dropped at a voice asking from behind you, “Miss Pear?”

A smile eased across your lips in a turn that once you saw who was behind you, Nicholas Cage stood with smile spreading recognizing your eyes right away, “I thought it was you by the cheese. My old lady must have seen your movie nine times in theaters while I was off filming, pinned me down when I got back to watch it on tape, it is fantastic.”

“Thank you,” You said with grin creeping wider awkwardly.

“Almost didn’t realize you with your hair different, and she didn’t believe me when I said you used to work here. You have any other roles for the hair change?”

“Ya, filming in Canada, finishing it up next couple months after this week off. Tv show set a couple years out, have a mini series on BBC set to be out next year, then I’m going blonde for King Kong.”

“Really, I hadn’t heard that. I bet it’s going to be fantastic. After the Beast I can’t imagine you couldn’t wow in anything. I’ll keep my eyes open for your name, now if you’ll excuse me I have to hunt down someone to grab me a balloon.”

“Ooh, um, the red headed guy in the soup loves the balloons, least pops out of the guys here.”

“Soup aisle, thank you. See you round.” He said hurrying off to go hunt down the balloon guy to add those to his bouquet of flowers he had clearly planning something big.

Smiling to yourself you turned to see Adrien with his brow raised at you, “Oh you know that was cool. Your just pretending to hate me. I’d be happy for you if you were in my spot.”

He shook his head and stepped forward with his cart to what he assumed to be his sign he’d leave first only to watch the people in front of you get rung up quickly once the receipt roll was swapped out. A glance past him showed the woman on the next register clearly scouring her purse for more funds she didn’t have and sigh realizing she’d have to choose what to pull off the receipt to fit her cash in hand. Soundly her sleeping baby in the carrier inside the cart showed why the young woman was struggling. And once you accepted your large paper bag your cashier watched you fold the bills you palmed to make them wrinkled and passing him Adrien watched with lips parted still being rung up at your faked dip between her cart and the register to lift extending the bills. “You dropped this, Miss.”

A wave of relief washed over her face in her smiling turn to the cashier, who smirked to herself having recognized you and this trick you’d played more than once before even when it was the last of the funds you had to the name back when you worked together. “Thank you, so much. Must have slipped right out, darn broken zipper.” Out you went not lingering in the moment as the actor had assumed any person might, to make a show of themselves saving the day to gift funds to someone in need. Simply alone now save for his circling thoughts he waited to be rung up so he could head out to his flashy car and drive back to his penthouse apartment in an area with far more expensive shops that drive him here for a bargain.

You had beaten your Dad back and getting the fries started you began to cut the rinsed and peeled corn from the cob to heat up along with the noodles you put on to boil next. In a spicy chili of sorts your own take on pasta salad came to life and widely grinning while you set that aside to cool your dad came in breaking out the patties he thawed in a move to the fridge earlier to use your ridged skillet to cook them up.

Breaking the content silence you voiced a thought you didn’t know when to say, “I’m going to need a list of all the light bulbs and filters. And candles for when power goes out, with matches.”

Lowly he chuckled, “I will have that readied for you by the time you get back. Along with a list of some small things you might also need to get started out.”

Moving each cooked patty to a plate off to the side sharing how the job was settled for the following week to tear up the wood floors and by the time that was done the tiles and carpet would be delivered to be installed the following day. Until then the team in charge of the shelves would be out the day after you’d flown back with the wood you wanted he would ensure was right up to par with the designs you had drafted up.

This was his baby girl’s home and he couldn’t be prouder at how you’d earned the funds for it and had taken charge after a timid blink of a moment to get what you wanted set to come to life. He couldn’t wait for Richard to get back out here to help you furnish and paint this monster of a home and get to settling knowing just how he’d love to have a beginning here too. You shared similar tastes and even without his input he knew as long as you were here Richard would feel at home.

The apartment had been good to get used to one another better. But if he was to have grand babies there would need to be some space to allow them to be made and to grow. And if you were to be climbing five flights of stairs he wanted it to be inside your own home with ample places to curl up in between if you were too tired to get up to the top floor. Most of all he wanted this to be perfect to help bolster your courage that you could succeed, you were new and knowing how famous actors knew your name and liked your jobs you’d chosen he wanted that to be common and not an out of place thing. Beast of Bards had done that, you had splashed onto scene and now the world just had to catch up to how indescribable you are.

After the meal was eaten and cleared it was time to bed so you’d be rested for the awards the following afternoon.

.

‘Hello Neighbor’ was the tagline for the story playing on the news blasting the news of your tour of the brownstone beside Keanu’s apartment with a picture of your meeting. Emphasized estimates of the block average price were given you might be dropping after the huge success Bard had grown to with an added note that the film had flown off the shelves with several stores on a backlist to get more copies in at the demand.

The anchor stated plainly that you must have made a killing with your previous films and were set to make even more with Kong when it did come out with a brief mention of a ‘project’ you were working on out in Canada currently. Concluding that you were a star to be reckoned with and weren’t going anywhere close to having Beast be a one time fluke for your success on film.

Over your breakfast plate your fork hovered as you said, “All that coming from the show that passed me over to interview a monkey handler.” The statement earned a chortle from your dad already having been smiling at their raving review on you.

“What else is on your mind? I can tell you’re deflecting.”

In a glance over at him you asked, “What do you think about a pirate ship chandelier for a nursery?” That had his grin easing out, “Mom made Peter Pan sketches you hung for mine, we haven’t talked babies seriously, but we have room, and I think the room by the back left corner on the third floor would be a good one.”

“I think that’s a great idea. Do you want me to talk to Rich about babies?”

“It’s not something that we plan on soon or right away, so maybe get the chandelier and just, sort of leave it open for when we need it. We don’t need to go buying a crib he just proposed I don’t want to-,”

“You are not going to scare him away. There is nowhere far enough he could hide from me if he tried. He wants a family told me so, it’s not an easy talk, your mom and I never had a talk, just sort of woke to her passing out on her way to get some grapefruit. You were a remarkable surprise and it was instant nursery planning and no complaints when I came back with armfuls of soft plushy Peter Pan decorations, nice and neutral. I think maybe you could do a mural or two across the wall and he might take the hint, sort of a future possibility room, some cubbies and built ins the mural and chandelier, maybe a rocking chair or loveseat.”

“Thank you.”

“You are so very welcome, babies always come to mind when houses come up.”

“I do want them to know the ranch too.”

“They will, and England, give them a nice round view of the world. Have about five years to think on which country they’ll go to school in, that’ll be a big one. But take your time, maybe it’ll be a job deciding it all.”

“Should we get barn door gates for the stairs like at the ranch?”

“We can, be prepared, even if to just keep guests out. I’ll be glad to handle that for you.”

“I would say glass ones but I can only think of things going badly with that.”

“Oh yes, not safe, and metal ones would only encourage hands to go through only welcoming injuries or attempted break outs.” He said with locked smile glad to have a plan started for the future grandbabies and their intended floor.

“I also have to figure out where the furniture from Canada is going, mine is kinda clear not much to move.” Glancing between him and your plate you asked, “How long do you think it’d take to fix it up?”

His smile came out again, “It is mostly cosmetic once we get the floors handled, island installed, counters replaced and shelving and cabinets in again. We could move in as soon as we pick the appliances if you like. L said you could still keep the apartment as long as you wanted till you felt ready same as Lee, who I know would be glad to have a home out here especially after his surgery scare.”

“I can always ask, his Agent’s trying to get him to the West Coast though for roles.”

“Boy can fly,” making you smirk, “Lord knows you do enough. Least this way he’ll have a room to come back to when he isn’t drug off home to Oklahoma. He’s not vanishing either under my watch he’ll come back if he does try to head off.”

You nodded and said, “Well either way won’t be long till I guess I’ll be back and trying to figure out how to share the place with him. I don’t know how it seems like sometimes I’m so ahead of the game.”

He smiled reaching over to pat your free hand resting on the table, “You take after me, Pumpkin. He grew up traveling while you grew up working the land and grinding hard to the ground for what you want. You have confidence in your ethic he’ll master over time. I felt the same over my younger brothers when they reached 18 and weren’t ready to jump to dad mode like I had, people vary but the influence of those around us help to build us up. We’ll get him there, he’s still young and learning. Plus you can’t forget with grandparents like yours you had a huge head start on working with producers, instructors and near to unreachable expectations. I am so proud of you for that, and I am glad I could have managed to grant you a childhood too before your battle of wills kicked in.”

“I wish you could have had one.”

Deepening his grin, “I did with you. Working with you is, profound. Honestly, I was a bit confused why you wanted to perform, I never doubted you or thought yourself out of bounds talent wise, but just the drive, but working with you I saw it. We taught you to read and opened doors to so many worlds and now you share stories with people bringing them to life, it’s infectious. There’s a bit of a time machine effect where you get to go back in time almost. And somehow I managed to get an award for being big and menacing, never thought I’d get that.”

“You have to tell me though, how jealous are the uncles?” That had him laugh out loud.

“Impossibly. The kids love the award shows and will brag forever that we’re gonna be there for them and their friends to watch.”

“Well shouldn’t be long now for them, takes a bit to get there.”

“Nope, and I can break out my suit to match your fancy dress.”

.

Again in your bathroom with the mirror you eyed the pale blue silk gown with golden panels on your hips feeding from decorative seams to accent your figure on the chunky strapped design smoothing your hands down the sides smoothing a wrinkle out of it. Without the fur wrap the last touch was your shoes, the tall black shoes Jen had helped you to buy with several straps from ankle to the start of your toes, one at a time in your lean against the counter they were put on adding a good help of inches lessening the pool of silk around your feet. Out you went to find your dad waiting with tie fixed into place smiling in his look over the skirt of your dress gauging how likely you might be to trip as he always did. At the call from your arrived driver downstairs a black clutch was grabbed and down you went.

All through the drive you held onto his arm resting over your legs in his try to calm him down by chatting. The carpet however managed that a tad better as your friends from Hugh Jackman to both Jens, Ben Affleck, Colin Farrell, but most especially your friends from the trilogy who all took their turns hugging the both of you and adding you both to more group shots like those you took with your other friends on the way inside. Briefly to his shock Adrien spotted you and your massive shadow casting father through the entrance pictures. Once you went in you found yourselves far from him, tucked on the end of the aisle in the square of seats for the trilogy stars. All chatting until the auditorium was full and the show began.

Breakthrough Female came first with Hugh Jackman and Famke Janssen coming out to present it. For Daredevil Jennifer Garner won and you clapped along with the crowd.

Queen Latifah and Adrien Brody came out next and to the sight of the same guy who had been bothering you, softly you sighed through the raucous greeting that died down as the names for Best Kiss nominations were given. Spider-Man’s Tobey Maguire and Kirsten Dunst at their naming came up to collect their golden popcorn bucket statue while your friends in Daredevil Ben and Jen G’s relaxed at not having to go up to stay with their partners they’d rather cuddle up to and steal quick pecks on cheeks from. Avoiding having to fumble who makes the speech or what to say about their on stage kiss on the spot.

Will Smith and Martin Lawrence were next out for presenting Best Comedic Performance, that Mike Myers accepted for Austin Powers in Goldmember.

Harrison Ford and Josh Hartnett called Kirsten Dunst up again for another win for Spider-Man for the Breakthrough Female Award.

Samuel L. Jackson and Colin Farrell were up next to name the winner of Best Fight. And with the crowd you cheered for your not present friend, Christopher Lee who won with Yoda from his role in Star Wars: Episode II – Attack of the Clones. A representative came out from the Star Wars film who gave a quick thanks and went back to his seat for a quick shift to the next award.

Beyoncé and Johnny Knoxville next named Breakthrough Male, accepted by Eminem for 8 Mile.

Mark Wahlberg and Mýa came out next to introduce Pink for her performance of Feel Good Time. While she performed your dad leaned over to chat quietly with you at his nerves amping up again after hearing from Jen in her trip backstage that the award was up after this performance.

Ashton Kutcher and P. Diddy after the darkened pause of the stage approached the mic stand to name those nominated for Best Villain. Again Mike Myers was up with Colin Farrell, Daniel Day-Lewis, Willem Dafoe and your dad in a good mix from comedic to sinister Villains.

“And the winner is,” the pair together spoke while P. Diddy opened the envelope to say while Ashton’s fingers shifted around the popcorn statue. “Joe Pear!” Smiling widely you giggled and hugged your dad’s arm pulling him from his moment of shock and you saw the camera men step back in the aisle angling the camera to get his rising body to stay in the frame. His seat on the aisle kept you from having to tuck your legs out of his way and clapping and giggling to Viggo’s comment leaning in from your right you watched him stroll up onto the stage where both the men straightened up and peered up at the stunningly tall man over a head taller than the both of them.

In accepting the award your dad moved closer to the mic hunching over the podium to be closer to the mic stand. “Um, thank you for this award. I never really saw myself acting, in the audience yes, but starting over in films after a long time apart I get to work with my little girl, and it’s the most phenomenal job I could have asked for, so it means a lot to have had so many people who enjoy a film we worked so hard on. This is going up on the wall back home next to her awards while growing up.”

To the applause when he straightened up he glanced at the pair of men who hinted he had to go through the back of the stage causing him to glance your way. A silent signal that had you giggle and gather your skirt to sneak to your feet and slip into the aisle to stroll to the stage. That had the duo around your smiling dad smirk watching your smiling path to his side with eyes shining in the lights along with the giggling smile matching his widening one that even in your lightened hair you still his mini twin. His hand extended and at his side you moved folding yours in it to show him through the process of the mysterious back as well as you could guess at not being back there yourself either.

For those not among the cheering crowd grew quieter to the signal of the switch of award presenters only to be joined by the rest seeing who it was, the main focus was the vast difference of height accentuated by your 5 ft 2 in self over a foot and seven inches shorter than him even with six inch heels.

Best Trans-Atlantic Performance was next with David and Victoria Beckham pitting Orlando and Colin against one another while your dad handed over the award being told that his engraved statue would be delivered to the ranch address he gave them. A few questions were asked backstage lasting long enough for Colin, who won, to join you both there.

Soon to be joined by Viggo and Orlando who accepted the award on Peter’s behalf for the Best Action Sequence presented by Paul Walker and Tyrese Gibson for the Battle of Helms Deep scene in The Two Towers.

Sharon Osbourne next introduced 50 Cent performing "In Da Club" / "Wanksta". Both of which providing cover for your slip back out to your seats.

Jason Biggs and Alyson Hannigan presented Best On-Screen Team. Won by Elijah Wood, Sean Astin, and Andy Serkis. That pulled them from their seats for their own interviews backstage while you nestled against your dad’s arm at his pleased mood from his and your friends’ wins. Waiting for the day his award would be mailed off, beyond eager to hear that it had arrived at the ranch.

Kate Hudson and Luke Wilson presented Best Virtual Performance that beating out Scooby Doo, Kangaroo Jack, Dobby and Yoda Andy came back to the stage at Gollum’s win.

Amanda Bynes and Hilary Duff introduced t.A.T.u. who performed "All the Things She Said" / "Not Gonna Get Us"

Demi Moore presented Best Male Performance, that in beating out Viggo, Eminem was back out again on stage for 8 Mile.

With a grin your new neighbor Keanu was out to present Best Movie with the Two Towers, Barbershop, 8 Mile, Beast of Bards and Spider-Man up for it. Two Towers was named and Viggo helped you back up to your feet for your group to head up together so that you could all sneak out at once.

Back in the middle of actors on your way through the crowded back halls to a side door where the limo were waiting Ian claimed hold of your hand luring a curious smile across your lips catching his eye. Low and close to you he asked in a murmur, “I might have been mistaken, however, was it true, I heard that you had come out as queer?”

“I, how did you hear that?”

Smirking at you he replied shifting to avoid another celeb passing by him, “As you always say my dear, everyone has ears.”

Softly you exhaled and avoided a statuesque model passing between you and the wall mid gulp of her martini from one of the mini parties in the back room she was exiting then came back to his side saying, “Well. I always knew I was something, but one of the Queens who does my hair helped me realize I’m ace.”

Parting his lips, “Truly one of a kind you are in every angle of you.”

That had you giggle and say, “Well I always used to just call myself Tigger, from Winnie the Pooh.” That had his brow tick up till you said, “Cuz I’m the only one.”

Lowly he chuckled and replied, “You are not. And I must say welcome. There are very few even rumored ace performers in the world. You are in fine company even I have heard through a friend that I’m Marilyn Monroe’s journals there is evidence she was possibly ace herself. So very fine company indeed. You are not the only one.”

You smirked again, “Then we all must be blindfolded in this forest because we are exceptionally hard to find and silent as ever in our own confusion.”

That had him chuckle through your soft giggle causing Viggo in front of you to steal a grinning glance back at you two ensuring you hadn’t been lost. “True it is a difficult thing to voice I can imagine. Does your father and Richard know?”

“Oh ya. I mean they knew before I had the name. Dad used to take it as I was a June Cleaver with only eyes for my hubby I was head over heels for. Nothing to be cross about. Rich’s brother Chris is a bit jealous he loved the nickname ace when they were kids. Always wanted to be his name when they played cowboys or race car drivers,” widening the grin across Ian’s face. “I tried explaining it to Lee before but like most teenagers I tried to express the meaning behind how I saw people, I guess, intimately, it all sort of got muddled. So he’s happy for me, still doesn’t get it really but I suppose it’d be hard for him to. Always saw it like the Titanic, no one really got how that marvelous beauty could drown. But everyone on the Titanic is saying you didn’t see that fucking iceberg come out of nowhere.”

“Well put.” He chuckled out and let you go first through the door Viggo was holding for you leading outside. “Very well put.”

Pt 41

#Awards Show #Lee Pace x Reader OC #Father Daughter Time #House Plans

[immodestmussorgskyy]

you have (1) new message

“I don’t believe in you!”

“I believe in you…”

You can’t help but snort, bursting into a fresh round of giggles. The dialogue in Nightmare on Elm Street is absolutely diabolical-- you struggle to figure out how anybody could consider this a horror movie. But hey… meteoric fame is hard to come by. It’s a cult classic for a reason. 

You’d usually be marathoning classic slasher flicks with your roommate, Chloe, but she’s on a month-long Hawaii dream vacation with her new boyfriend. What happened to bros before hoes? But hey, his wealth is apparently abundant enough to fund weeks of paradise beachside living, so good for her for getting that bread. And anyway, you’re content to sit alone in your little mousehole apartment and melt into the couch after work with a family-size bag of salt & vinegar chips under your arm. 

You watch the flickering screen with mild interest as you chomp down another handful of chips. Freddy Krueger is definitely failing to get you on the edge of your seat. Wiping your hand on your sweatpants, you pick up the remote and turn the movie off. 

“Nightmare, my ass.” you mutter under your breath. 

As much as you’d like to, eating nothing but salt and vinegar chips for dinner seems like a great way to end up with an upset stomach and a lot of regret later tonight. The pantry is well stocked with Chloe’s foods of choice-- organic steel-cut rolled oats, a billion different kinds of nuts and seeds all in cute little labeled mason jars, gluten free bread, a mockery of cheese puffs (chickpea puffs? Come on!). Your side is a library of boxed or canned foods in stark contrast: a couple opened boxes of Pop-Tarts, a few boxes of Kraft mac & cheese, a family sized box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and, the only thing not in a box: another bag of salt & vinegar chips. 

The fridge tells a similar story. Chloe’s avocados, farmer’s market tomatoes, and thick stalks of celery gleam in the vegetable drawer. She’s consumed half the shelf space with just kombucha and a few swanky craft beers. And bottles of oat milk, or soy milk, or some kind of thing pretending to be milk. You actually don’t have much in the fridge besides leftover Indian food from your favorite place downtown and a gallon of milk for your cereal, so you don’t mind her hogging more space. 

Muffy, Chloe’s ragdoll cat, stalks into the kitchen with you and gives you a tiny yowl. You lean down and give her an affectionate scratch behind the ears. 

“Scram, Muffy.” you murmur to her. “I’ve already fed you.” 

She looks up at you with a look that can only mean “and you’ll feed me more.” 

She stalks back into the living room, fluffy beige tail disappearing behind the wall in a flick and a wave. You tie your hair back and yawn. What’s on the menu for dinner tonight? 

Before you can think too much about eating, you remember that Chloe left you a voicemail before she took off. You fish your phone from your pocket and open your voicemail, tapping your toe against the linoleum floor as the dial tone plays. 

You have one new message, chirps the robot voice of your mailbox. 

“Hey girl. I’m boarding soon, so you probably won’t hear from me for a while. Make sure you feed Muffy, water the plants…” she clicks her tongue a few times, “take your meds, and don’t lay in bed for too long on the weekends. You know how that tanks your mood.” 

Chloe might be a total hipster health nut, but it doesn’t make it any less sweet that she frets over you so much. You break into a smile and make a mental note to call her back. 

“And. You can eat anything perishable of mine in the fridge or pantry while I’m gone. I doubt the bread or the veggies are gonna last long… you need to eat healthier anyway. No potato chips for dinner.” 

Your smile grows. She knows you so well. 

“I gotta go, but I’ll send you tons of pictures when I get there. Bye, babe.” 

You hang up and set your phone down on the counter. Eyeing the bland looking loaf of brown bread, you decide you’ll have breakfast a la Chloe for dinner. 

You toss the loaf onto the counter, then stalk to the fridge. The avocados seem pretty ripe. Tomatoes, too. You pick out one of each, then pluck a couple eggs from the carton you two share and set it all on the counter. Avocado toast with scrambled eggs sounds pretty Chloe. 

You gut the avocado, tossing its pit in the trash and scooping its innards out into a bowl. The fork makes quick work of it, turning it into a mound of mild green paste. Salt, pepper. Done. 

Hey, if Chloe let you eat her food, she’s bound to not mind that you’re using her nice kitchen knives too, right? You cut a few slices of tomato and grimace at its gelatinous, glistening center. You never liked tomatoes much, but she’s kinda right-- you do need to improve your diet. 

Before long, you’ve got a nice thick slice of toast slathered in avocado and garnished with ripe red tomato sitting next to a steaming pile of scrambled eggs. This may not be your beloved salt & vinegar chips, but it sure looks delicious. 

You snap a photo of your meal and text it to her. Am I healthy yet? you type, with a grin on your face. 

Muffy stalks up to you, looking up expectantly. You sigh and toss her a morsel of scrambled egg. “That’s all you’re getting, you little twerp.” you admonish through a mouthful of toast. It’s not… delicious, but it’s not bad for some mushed up vegetable on top of an excuse for bread. You curse yourself for not adding some cheese to your scrambled eggs. That would’ve really been delicious. 

You’d usually be scrolling through your social media right now, but something inspires you to look longingly out the window of the kitchen. The sky is a starless, inky black, obscuring everything except for whatever is illuminated by the weak orange streetlights. Usually there would be more traffic or drunk yelling-- you and Chloe didn’t exactly get lucky with the placement of your unit-- but tonight it’s eerily silent. That’s perfectly welcome to you, though. It’s much better than cranking up the volume of your music to drown out whatever street fight is occurring three floors below you. 

Suddenly, your musing and its silence is broken by the sound of your ringtone. It’s half past midnight… who in their right mind would be calling you right now? 

Unknown number. You frown and let it go to voicemail. Probably just some spam caller. 

You finish your dinner and sit there in the silence, then check your phone again. You can’t help but be curious as to what message they’ve left you. Gingerly, you open your voice mailbox again and listen dispassionately to the dial tone and the little robot voice. 

You have one new message and one old message. 

The voice that erupts through your speaker is unfamiliar, smooth, low. All you can discern is that it’s a male voice, its tone almost perversely cloying. 

“I was hoping you’d pick up.” A long inhale, a long exhale. “You seem a little lonely. Breakfast for dinner… cute.” 

Ice cold horror washes over you and you can barely move your fingers to hang up. This has to be some kind of joke. Some stupid kid getting really, really lucky with their prank call. 

But a question still sears into your thoughts:

Who would have known what you were doing? 

That you were alone in your apartment? 

Maybe, just maybe, by some insane stretch of the imagination, Chloe’s new boyfriend got ahold of her phone, saw your text, and decided to pull some prank. Yeah, that sounds about right. That’s the only situation that makes sense, unless… 

Somebody is watching you.  

You nearly jump out of your seat as the phone rings again. Unknown number. Your hands tremble over it as your panicked brain deliberates picking it up. Before you can think about it any more, you’ve snatched it into a sweaty palm and brought it up to your ear. 

“Chloe, this isn’t fucking funny. Cut it out.” you try to sound intimidating, but your voice trembles in just the wrong way with each word. 

“You picked up.” the voice breathes, and you swear you can hear a sinister smile creep onto whoever’s face it belongs to. “You must really be lonely.” 

“I said stop, Chlo--”

“My name’s not Chloe.” he snarls, and your empty threat dies in your throat immediately. Then, as if nothing had happened at all, his voice slips back into that relaxed, amused tone. “But I do wish I were spending a month in Hawaii right now. Lucky girl, isn’t she?” 

Another pang of fear hits you like a brick. You swallow hard, biting your lip. “Whoever you are, leave me alone. Or I’ll… I’ll call the cops.” 

“What exactly are you going to tell them, sweetheart? That some big mean boogeyman is leaving scary messages on your phone?” he lets out a mocking laugh. “They’ll send their best officers, I’m sure.”

“Leave me alone.” is all you manage to say, breathless and trembling, before you force yourself to hang up and practically slam your phone down onto the counter. Muffy jumps and cocks her head at you. You force yourself to break out of your panicked stupor and hurry over to the kitchen window, glancing hurriedly to the left and right of it. If somebody were on the fire escape, you surely would have heard it. 

At least, that’s what you tell yourself. 

You yank those curtains shut, then the curtains on the living room window, then finally the ones in your bedroom. You remember Chloe locking and shutting her windows, so there’s no need to check in there. Something tells you to anyway.

You creep to her doorway, palms sweaty. There’s probably nothing to see in there, you think to yourself, the curtains were already shut. 

Looking into her room, your stomach drops. 

The curtains are tucked neatly to the side, and her window is cranked all the way open, letting in the cool night air and the sounds of the streets. You nearly choke in horror and rush over to shut the window, making sure the lock is tightly down before throwing the curtains back over them. You must have just misremembered. She probably left the window open to let some fresh air in, or something.

But she never leaves her window open, or Muffy would get out, you realize. 

“Oh my God.” you gasp to yourself, before you sprint to the kitchen and grab the biggest, meanest looking knife in the drawer, as well as your phone. Muffy meows at you curiously, then yelps in indignance as you swiftly scoop her up by the stomach and fly to your room. 

“Sorry.” you mutter as you practically toss her onto your bed, then lock your door. It’s a pathetic, flimsy mechanism, and could probably be picked with a fork, but it’s better than nothing. You pause, surveying the room for any heavy objects, and settle on jamming your full laundry hamper under the doorknob. At least this way you’ll hear any intruder before they make it into your room. The knife you tuck under your pillow as you scramble under your covers and turn your lamp off. 

Your hands shake as you dial Chloe’s number. The phone rings once, twice, then goes straight to voicemail.

“Hey, Chlo,” you say shakily. “Uhm, I got some really weird calls from somebody tonight and I think our apartment might have been broken into. Or something. Uh,” you swallow hard, “Muffy and I are locked up in my room right now and I have a knife. I could be just imagining things, but if you don’t hear from me for a while, I probably got murdered or something.”

God, you sound so stupid right now, but it’s the best you can muster when your thoughts are racing at a million miles an hour. 

“I’ll call you when I wake up tomorrow. Bye.” 

You plug your phone in and set it on your nightstand, shrinking down underneath your duvet. Nothing is visible in your room, even as your eyes adjust to the darkness, except for the glow of the hall light you left on under your door. 

It’s going to be a long night. 

Check out this story and the rest of its chapters on AO3!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28688007/chapters/70331253

#dead by daylight #danny johnson #the ghostface #jed olsen #fanfiction #murder and intrigue huehuehue #getting stalked basically #cat and mouse type shit

[scrivenerofmossflower]

I Ain’t Afraid of No Ghost

Word Count: ~2.8k Summary: Four new friends decide to celebrate their recent meeting by doing some light breaking-and-entering at the local cemetery. They're looking for a ghost. They accidentally come out with the seeds for a YouTube channel. In which Gonff has done research, Rose brought the video camera, Martin's a little too comfortable with this, and Columbine wonders how a pre-med like her wound up stuck with two theater geeks and an enigma. read on ao3 Notes: Human AU, College AU. Un-beta’ed, all mistakes are my own. I’ve been sitting on this for like, over two years and the fact that the ‘verse is still bothering me and I still remember all the details to the set up means that I’m just going to have to exorcise it. Have a Halloween fic the day after Halloween.

The cemetery was on the western edge of town and looked not as a cemetery usually does, with neatly kept graves and graveled paths and mown lawns, but as a cemetery should. With the sun just below the horizon and night falling quickly, the overgrown graveyard with it’s off-kilter, lichen covered headstones and crumbling mausoleums looked like something right out of a horror movie.

“Hollywood called, they want their set back,” Rose said. All four friends were leaning against the iron gates at the entrance, nerving themselves up to go in.

“Oh, come on, this is B-list horror fodder at best,” Gonff countered. “More like Haunted Mansion or Hocus Pocus than—are you recording this?”

“Yep,” Rose said. She turned her phone towards him, zoomed in and out on his face, and stuck out her tongue. “You know how big a wimp my brother is about the spooky stuff, so I was going to send it to him. Congratulations, he just found out you’re a massive Disney geek.”

“Everyone likes Hocus Pocus—”

“Are you seriously going to do this?” Columbine interrupted, and rolled her eyes when Rose turned the camera on her.

“Scared?”

She sighed. “Of getting arrested for trespassing? Yes.” She reached out and made a swipe for the camera, but Rose avoided the grab. “Especially if you’re going to be recording us breaking the law—Martin!”

While they’d been talking, Martin had swung himself onto the top of the chest-high wall and sat straddling it with one leg to either side. “What?” he asked. “It’s not that high.”

“That’s not really her point, mate,” Gonff said. What was chest high on Martin was shoulder high on Gonff, and between that and a bit of extra pudge, it was a bit more of an undignified scramble up. Martin snagged the back of his shirt and heaved when it looked like he wouldn’t quite make it. “Thanks. C’mon, Columbine, you’re up next.”

She sighed again, but took both their hands and let them haul her up between them, with a neat little twist that left her sitting on the wall, feet on the outside.

“Here, catch,” Rose said. She tossed her phone up to Martin and waved off their assistance, bracing her hands on the top of the wall and hopping up, accepting her phone back with a grin. The group paused again on the top of the wall. “So,” Rose said, dragging out the vowel and turning the camera on each of them. “What do you think we’re going to find?”

“I was poking around in the library this afternoon,” Gonff volunteered, drumming his heels against the wall, “and turned up a couple of specifics. Apparently there was this chemist—and I use the term loosely, he wasn’t trained and it was the 1700s, I think—but when he died he said he’d be back.”

“And was he?”

“Well, he was exhumed at some point, and the body was unsettlingly preserved. Though I suppose saying the tomb was broken into would be more accurate; a curious medical student tried to cut off his head.”

“And you say it’s the theater geeks who’re weird,” Rose said. “When has a theater geek ever tried to cut off someone’s head in the name of science?”

Columbine just raised both eyebrows in Rose’s direction. “Really? We’re really going there?”

“Okay, but when has a medical student willed their skull to a theater so it can be used in a production of Hamlet?” Martin asked, and ignored how all three just looked at him in bewilderment. “Go on, Gonff. The body was unusually preserved, the student tried to take its head.”

“Which I contest, honestly,” Columbine interrupted. “You could get as good a sample without desecrating the corpse like that.”

“Anyway,” Gonff said. “As he was putting the head in the sack he’d brought with him, he heard whispers coming from the corners of the tomb.” He gestured, describing the scene with relish. “Whispers at the edges of reality, seeping through the cracks. When he turned around, there were shadows writhing and twining in the corners, reaching out as if they would pull him into the void itself.”

There was a beat of silence.

“And this tomb is in this graveyard?” Rose said, scanning the layout of the ground below them.

“Yep. The student ran, of course, and left the head behind. It’s probably still there, kicked into a corner by a panicked foot.”

Martin and Columbine exchanged skeptical looks. “Guilty conscience, obviously, and probably wind through the leaves,” Columbine said. “Look, there’s trees all along the wall, and there’s grass and stuff, too. When was this?”

Gonff blew out an exasperated breath. “I don’t really remember, a few years after the guy died?”

“So call it the 1810s at the latest,” Columbine said, crossing her arms. “Way before electricity was harnessed for things like flashlights. If he had a lantern or an oil lamp, those shadows were probably caused by the unsteady light source, and obviously an overactive imagination.”

“Speaking of which, anyone else have a flashlight?” Martin asked. “First quarter moon won’t be up for another few hours.”

There was another, longer silence.

“We are really bad at this,” Gonff said finally. “Martin’s the only person who brought a flashlight? Seriously?”

“I was just going to use my phone,” Rose said. “But that’s going to eat my battery, especially if I’m recording at the same time.”

“Lesson learned. When poking around old graveyards after dark, everyone in the crew brings a flashlight,” Columbine said, shaking her head.

“We’ll keep it mind for next time,” Rose decided, and hopped down into the graveyard without further commentary. “Come on, let’s go find this tomb. You remember which one it was, right, Gonff?”

“Yeah, it’s in the north corner. I’ll lead the way.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Martin said as he helped Columbine down off the wall, “I swung by earlier today to talk to the groundskeeper. Ghost hunters aren’t new to him, and we’ve got permission. As long as we don’t break anything, leave trash around, make too much noise, etcetera, he’s fine with it, if a little resigned.”

“I’m beginning to think you’ve done this before,” Columbine said, half joking, half accusing.

Martin shook his head. “No, I just don’t see any reason to take unnecessary risks.”

Gonff laughed from in front of them, and turned around to walk backwards and still face them. “Matey, I’ve known you for a week and I can already say with full confidence that that’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told.”

“I did say unnecessary risks,” Martin said with complete calm. “Besides, I haven’t been that reckless around any of you.”

“Yes, because jumping two flights of concrete steps is perfectly reasonable,” Rose said, giving him a very disappointed look.

“I was running late and took the landing on my shoulder like you’re supposed to.”

The deeper the four friends passed into the graveyard, the older the headstones became. What names and dates had survived the years were obscured by green-gray or orange lichen. At the very back were a row of small marble buildings, some with long fractures in their walls, some with craggy domes, some in eerily perfect repair but with the iron grate hanging askew. The casual back and forth banter grew quieter as they approached, until at last the muffled sound of shoes upon gravel swallowed it up entirely.

“That’s it,” Gonff whispered, nodding towards a mausoleum built into a low hill, the dark space where its door should have been framed by ivy and brambles.

Rose took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Break my phone and I’ll curse you,” she said, and thrust it into Gonff’s hands.

“Wait, what are you doing?”He fumbled it, checking the camera and keeping it trained on Rose. The image was becoming grainier as the light faded, but it was still enough to film, for now.

“I’m going inside,” Rose said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”

“Oh, no, not without me you’re not,” Gonff said, shoving the phone at Martin. “Here, you hold this.”

“I’m pretty sure this violates the 'don’t break anything' request we got from the groundskeeper,” Columbine said, rubbing at her forehead.

“Do you want to go in to explain every ‘experience’ they have, or shall I?” Martin asked. The video wouldn’t show the fond grin he wore, but it was clear enough in his voice as he trained the camera on Columbine, equally fond for all her exasperation.

“You’ve got the flashlight,” Columbine pointed out, waving him on. “I’ll stand guard on the off chance someone comes to run us out.”

“We can jump the wall and make for downtown if that happens,” Martin said. “Always have an exit strategy.”

“You’ve definitely done this before.”

“No, that’s just general life advice.”

They were interrupted by a low call from Gonff from inside the mausoleum. “Martin! Flashlight?!”

Martin fished the penlight out of one pocket with one hand, keeping the camera steady on the door as he approached. He knocked on the jamb with it. “Hello? Sorry for the disturbance, but we were just hoping to look around for a little bit, if you don’t mind the company. We’ll leave you in peace again soon.”

He flicked the light on, and startled back when it illuminated Rose, who was far closer than he’d expected. She also backed off with a pained protest. “Warn a girl before you do that, will you?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Martin said, angling the light a bit lower.

She rubbed at her eyes. “Were you talking to the ghost just now?”

“Look, if there is someone in here, just because he’s dead doesn’t mean we have to be rude,” Martin pointed out, following Rose into the crypt. “How’d you feel if someone came poking around your room without even apologizing for it?”

“You don’t even believe in ghosts,” Gonff pointed out, squinting around. The three of them drew closer together—ghost or no, they were in a small space with a dead body after dark, circumstances creepy enough to raise the hair on the back of anyone’s neck.

“I prefer to hedge my bets,” Martin said, sweeping the penlight slowly around. It was mostly empty, but for a few dead leaves in the corner and a low, rectangular construction in the middle of the room—the tomb itself. “I don’t see anything in here. Should we go a bit deeper?” They were huddled near the door, the blue-bright LED penlight aided by the distant starlight and the sickly yellow glow of a nearby streetlight.

“Yeah, why not,” Gonff said. His voice was a bit higher than normal, but he slid one foot forward, then another. Rose trailed behind him, looking closely around the room.

“Are you sure I shouldn’t go in front?” Martin asked.

“You’ve got the camera,” Rose said.

“Right,” Martin muttered, not sounding too pleased with that. “Of course.”

“I’ll curse you, too, if you break my phone—” Rose started, only to cut herself off with a gasp. “Did you hear that?”

“No?”

Another long moment of tense silence, before all three heard a rustling sound from beyond the tomb.

“I heard that,” Gonff said, this time with an almost manic sounding giggle. “It sounds like he doesn’t like curses. Maybe don’t talk about that right now?”

“Right,” Rose said. She swallowed. “Sorry.”

“There’re a lot of dead leaves in here,” Martin said, directing the penlight towards the corners. “It was probably the wind, or an animal. Something like—huh.”

The light illuminated a misshapen lump closer to the entrance, a bundle of something that looked like it might be cloth. The trio stared at it for a moment.

“Do you think that’s the head?” Rose whispered.

“It’s definitely something,” Gonff said. All three drew closer together until their shoulders were touching.

“You know, I sort of thought the head would’ve been moved, or missing, or eaten by now,” Martin said.

Gonff blanched. “Eaten?”

“Well, yeah. Animals, scavengers, that sort of thing. What, did you think I meant cannibalism?”

“No…”

“Well, only one way to find out,” Rose said. She squared her shoulders. Each step forward echoed hollowly in the empty mausoleum, and when she spoke, both Gonff and Martin couldn’t quite suppress a jump. “Martin, will you stop moving the light around? I’m nervous enough as it is.”

“I’m not moving the light, Rose. And my hands are steady, before you ask,” Martin protested, eyes on the video to make sure this was the case.

Rose halted without turning around. When she spoke, her voice was forcibly calm. “If it’s not the light, what’s making the shadows move?”

“Martin, are you getting that?”

“I’m recording the shadows acting like shadows, yes,” Martin said patiently. “They’re moving because you’re moving, Rose, and you’re between the light and the—oh,” he said, as the shadows trembled again and moved up the wall.

There was a crash of stone on stone from behind them, loud in the sudden stillness. All three screamed, Gonff and Rose both latching onto Martin’s arms. Martin had dropped the penlight to free one hand, and the light swung wildly about the mausoleum, chasing spiky shadows and weird shapes up the walls.

“I think we should get out of here,” Gonff said, already backing out and dragging Martin along with him.

“Good idea,” Rose agreed, matching Gonff pace for pace. “Great time and all, really interesting, but we ought to, you know, go analyze the footage, see if we got an EVP—”

“Not find out what that was?”

“A ghost angry about a joke about curses.”

“Don’t joke about curses, I was cursed once and it offends me,” Gonff agreed with another high pitched giggle.

“This is just for practice anyway, next time we’ll go investigate,” Rose said.

There was another rustling, and the penlight caught the reflective gleam of eyes at the other end of the room.

They broke and ran, bursting out of the mausoleum and almost bowling over Columbine.

“What, what did you—”

“Eyes, dark, something—”

“Just run!” Rose said, pushing the both of them ahead of her.

“Over the wall?” Martin asked the group.

“Yes, fine, just away!”

This wall was conquered far more easily than the first, the fear adding extra speed to all four friends’s flight.

“You really saw a ghost?” Columbine panted.

“No,” Martin said, at the same time Gonff said “Yes!”

“There were eyes, mate, actual, glowing eyes!” Gonff continued. “And the shadows, you saw the shadows!”

“I saw shadows move that weren’t caused by Rose,” Martin said.

“And the crash? And the rustling?”

“Coincidence. Dead leaves. There wasn’t a ghost in there.”

They stopped a dozen blocks away, Rose clutching a stitch in her side, Gonff with his hands braced on his knees, gasping for breath.

“Then what was it?” Rose asked, leaning her head against the wall of the closed coffee shop.

“I don’t know,” Martin said. He was breathing deeply, deliberately slowing his breathing back to normal. “But it wasn’t a ghost.”

“That’s… because… it was a fox,” Columbine said, also bent double and panting for breath. She waved her phone, which the other three only just noticed in her hand. “I saw it come out about two seconds before you did,” she said, straightening as her breath came back. “Snapped a few pictures. He’s a cutie, you probably scared him.”

“We scared him?” Rose repeated, scandalized.

“Oh, let me see,” Gonff said, leaning over her shoulder as she swiped through the handful of pictures.

“Wait, let me get a shot of this,” Martin said, a grin beginning to steal over his face. He raised Rose’s phone again, getting a good angle on Columbine’s. “Aw, he is cute.”

“What about the eyes—?”

“Probably a family,” Columbine said. “I mean, that’d be a great place for a den, wouldn’t it? Sensible people don’t go in.”

“Did I ever claim I was sensible?” Gonff asked her, turning to look at her indignantly with his chin still propped on her shoulder. “Did Rose? Did Martin?”

Rose shook her head, beginning to laugh. “So our first ghost… was actually a family of foxes,” she said.

“Apparently,” Gonff said.

“Stepping through leaves, knocking something over, moving around so that there were shadows,” Martin listed. “And our imaginations did the rest.”

Columbine shot them all a grin. “Good thing I didn’t come in with you guys, then, or I wouldn’t have evidence,” she said, waving her phone in Gonff’s face.

“Well, you’ll have to figure out a way to get evidence from the inside next time,” Rose decided. She put out a hand and wiggled her fingers. Martin passed her the phone.

“Next time?” Columbine repeated.

“Absolutely,” Rose said, and panned the camera around the group. “After tonight, we’ve got to find a real ghost. This is too embarrassing a note to leave on, don’t you think?”

#my fic #redwall #Late LateRose Channel AU #one-shot #Martin the Warrior #Gonff #Columbine #Rose #look I don't remember where this came from #but I love it #please love it too

[mercyparkgirl]

the roommate

Pairing: Logan x MC (implied)

Warnings: angst, ptsd

Word Count: ~1835

Summary: Set after the events of Ride or Die, my MC (Ellie Wheeler) adjusts to her new life, from the perspective of herself and her roomate, Sophie.

Notes: So... this is the first fanfic I’ve ever written! Always been too nervous to post but with @rodappreciationweek I figured why not. Hope you enjoy!

_________________________

sophia.

My roommate’s name was Ellie, from Los Angeles. We only texted a little before move-in day at Langston, and I really hoped we would get along. My older brother had told me horror stories about his freshman roommate, some of which I believed, most which I guessed he made up to scare me. Still, those stories had taken root in my mind and I found myself with a little more than first-day anxiety as mom fussed over the fitted bed sheet and position of the throw pillows in my new room. 

“Hi” a soft voice spoke from the door and I turned around quickly to greet the girl in the doorway. Her hair was pulled back and I squealed as I noticed her Langston sweatshirt, gesturing at the identical one I was wearing. She laughed at that, and to her surprise I launched forward to give her a hug. She only tensed for a moment before hugging me back, and with the ice seemingly broken we settled comfortably into unpacking and setting up the room.

I felt definitively uncool as my mom chattered on and on, immediately conscious of the fact that Ellie apparently didn’t need her mom to make her bed for her. I caught her a couple of times smiling softly at my mom with a longing look in her eyes I couldn’t quite place and I wondered what she thought of me. 

Ellie certainly didn’t seem to have as much stuff as I did, and certainly not my plant habit that was rapidly turning into an addiction. The only thing she set on her desk was a framed photograph which she removed from a box full of tissue paper with great care, running a hand quickly over the glass before setting it down. I snuck a look at it as I pushed a succulent into her hands, insisting that she have something else to liven up her side of the room.

She and an unusually attractive boy, both dressed in formal attire, stared fiercely into the camera as if daring someone to oppose them, his arm wrapped protectively around her. His eyes were dark and powerful, while hers were full of a righteous fury and passion that seemed both completely out of place and extraordinarily natural on her features.

Ellie and I spent that night and the next few weeks getting to know each other. We bonded over both being from the West Coast, though Tacoma is very different from LA. She was smart, though she had the air of a student who wasn’t used to being surrounded by people at her level. We had no classes together but it was easy to fall into the rhythm of studying together in the library or student union building every night. I was so lucky to have her for the transition to college, and I hoped she felt the same.

She wanted stories about my siblings, my parents, the plays I’d been in during middle school, and I was more than happy to talk without realizing that I was learning very little about her in return. Still, I managed to pick up on some things. She spun her charm bracelet when she got excited about something, and fiddled with some strange object on a chain around her neck when she thought no one was looking, a far-away look on her face. 

For a girl who owned so many leather jackets and an apparently very impressive car (The only thing I care about less than cars are the Kardashians and essential oils) she was surprisingly sweet and funny, enough that I was shocked the first time I saw her in short sleeves.

“Is that a real tattoo?” I exclaimed, not giving her time to answer. “That is so cool. I really wanted one when I was 16 and my sister told me she’d poke me with a needle for free. What is it? A wolf? Badass. Do you have a whole pack of them?”

She laughed and pulled a jacket on. “It’s a lone wolf, I’m afraid. Ran away from its pack.”

I’m a light sleeper which I always considered a curse in a house full of noisy siblings, but I was glad of it the first time I woke up in the middle of the night to a scream, sleepily flicking on the light to see her writhing in her bed. I threw back the covers and sat down on her bed, gently shaking her shoulder until she woke up gasping, nails digging into my arm. For just a moment I swore I could see the ghosts of great flames in her eyes, fading back into embers as she realized where she was. 

I wrapped my arms around her and she sat still for a few long moments before squeezing my arm and standing up. 

“I think… I think I’m going to go for a drive. Thank you Soph.” I wanted to wait up for her but I fell asleep on top of my sheets. 

The nightmares happened again, and then again. Some nights she would just curl back into the blankets, or open the window before falling back to sleep. 

And some nights she would grab the keys from her nightstand and leave without a word. I’d be asleep before she came home, or maybe she never came back to bed those nights. Maybe she drove until the morning sun stretched her fingers above the horizon and began her slow crawl to the other side.

ellie.

When I left LA, it felt like the ending of a story. The closing of a book. But I’m starting to realize life doesn’t work like that. Nobody gets happy endings or tidy conclusions. Life just… keeps going. And it’s up to us whether we can stay afloat or get lost in the riptide, losing ourselves in the memories and regrets. 

Don’t get me wrong, nothing could take away the magic of stepping out of my car at the place I had dreamed about since I was old enough to dream, completely and terrifyingly on my own. No curfew, no explanations needed. I could reinvent myself. It would be a brand new start. But as I subconsciously ran a hand over the smooth hood of my Widow I remembered the first time I had seen her, sleek and dangerous and mine in Kaneko’s shop, how the leather of the seats smelled like home, and I knew forgetting wasn’t an option. And maybe I didn’t want it to be.

I had never shared a room with anyone, unless you count sleepovers with Riya or the week I spent in Logan’s loft above the shop. But Sophia made it feel like I’d been missing out. She was kind and open and welcoming from the moment I stepped in the room. She was brilliant, too, even for Langston standards which were far above what I was used to at Mar Vista Prep. I quickly realized that there would be little time to fully appreciate the lack of parental control given my heavy workload. 

I had a couple classes with Ingrid and was surprised by how happy I was to see her. I needed to get out of LA but it would always be the place I was from and she represented a piece of my past. A reminder of a time in my life that I might have convinced myself never really happened if not for her. We were friendly and the fun kind of competitive, but didn’t hang out much outside of class, though I felt that either one of us would be happy to if the other one asked. I made a lot of acquaintances very quickly, a few of which turned tentatively into friends, but I mostly hung out with Soph when I wasn’t in class.

My dad and I talked nearly every day for the first couple weeks, which gradually turned into every weekend. We never talked for long, classes were “going well”, work was “busy”. I loved him, of course, but I found it hard to shake the image of him pointing a gun at the man I loved, face tight with bitter fury. 

I knew Colt was still in LA, and I hesitantly tried to inquire about the specifics of my dad’s latest assignments. He must have figured what my real question was because he got quiet for a moment then said “I think it’s best if we don’t talk about that. Best to leave it in the past.”

I didn’t mention it again, or ask about Mona which had been my next idea. But it was hard to leave Logan in the past when I’d spent so much time seeing him as my future. I texted his number a couple times even though I knew he’d no longer have it, pitiful ‘I love you’s when I felt so lonely it was hard to breathe. 

At night my fingers would trace the places his had until the memories of his rough hands on my body were blurred with my own and I was no longer sure if he had ever touched me at all. If not for the spark plug I wore around my neck and the picture of us at prom I kept next to a succulent Soph had given me, I wouldn’t be sure he ever existed at all. 

I was ok most of the time and on occasion, I wasn’t. I cried sometimes and I didn’t even know why. I grew to fear lying in bed because the thoughts threatened to crush me, my brain forcing myself to relive every moment of that spring and asking me what I should have done differently. And when I finally, finally got to sleep I had nightmares. 

Jason looming over me, larger than life, hands reaching out as my feet stuck to the ground, my car nowhere to be seen. Or a blazing inferno on the bridge, Colt’s screams of pain and grief pounding in my ears, his face twisted in an agony I could have prevented. Kaneko’s voice a whisper in my skull “Once you’ve made your choice it is made. You hold true until the end.” 

The fire from the explosion spreads, higher and farther than I remember it, the flames taking Jason’s shape, and my father’s, consuming me completely until I wake up, sweating and throat hoarse with Sophia’s soft hands on my shoulder. 

Sometimes I can get back to sleep, but sometimes I know I won’t be able to. On those nights I grab my keys and run down to my Widow, no jacket so I can feel the wind on as much of my body as possible. At that hour the streets are sleepy and I can make it to the freeway in 10 minutes. And as the lights passing by turn into stars, spinning above my head, I drive. And in that moment I can hear their laughter, their whoops and cheers. In that moment, as I fly into the night... I’m not alone. 

#RoDaw #rod #ride or die #choices rod #rod choices #playchoices #choices #logan x mc #pixelberry #pixelberry choices #fanfic #choices fanfic #fanfiction #choices fanfiction #logan #rod logan

[writingfandomfeels]

Neville Longbottom - A Kiss

Request: I love what you wrote for Draco! Can I request something similar with Neville? Sorry if this is too vague :(

Summary: Professor!Neville and Librarian!Reader. You and Neville are the only ones at Hogwarts several weeks before classes start so you can get prepared. But there's tons of tension after you kissed him at the end of last year and haven’t seen or spoken to him since.

Things get smutty after ~~~

As the Hogwarts librarian, you needed to be at the school early to properly organize and put away the new books you’d ordered for the upcoming school year. However, you’d expected to be the only one inhabiting the castle so many weeks before it would open for the students, so were surprised to find your friend and one of the professors, Neville Longbottom, also there.

“Neville!” You exclaimed, surprised to see him in the hallway on your way to the library. Immediately you felt an awkwardness come down on you. Of course you hadn’t seen him since everything that happened at the end of the last school year. You’d been dreading the confrontational conversation that was sure to come up and had hoped you’d have a few extra weeks still to plan out what you wanted to say. “What, uh… what are you doing here?” 

“I wanted to get ahead of things and make sure I had everything prepared before lessons start in a few weeks. Yourself?” He asked. 

Your eyes drifted to his lips as he spoke, the memory of their softness still lingering in your mind. You noticed his eyebrows rise as he asked you a question and you quickly forced yourself from the memory. “Oh! I, ordered in some new books!” You held up a couple that you were currently carrying, immediately feeling silly for doing so as these weren’t even the new books you’d ordered, but rather just some that were out of place. 

“May I?” He asked, reaching to read the title of them. “Huh. Funny, I thought we’d had these before.” 

You mentally kicked yourself. “We did. These were actually just left laying around some of the classrooms and not put away. I don’t know why I gestured to them before.” You looked away sheepishly.

“Oh.” He responded.

“We do have some new herbology ones though if you want to take a look?” You offered, mentally kicking yourself again. You wanted to get away from him and this impending conversation, not invite him to spend more time near you. Although admittedly, you normally loved spending as much time with him as you could.

“That sounds great!” He smiled, though you felt as though there was a hint of discomfort from him too. He was probably just too polite to say no. 

“Follow me,” You stiffly turned in the direction of the library, “not that, you don’t know where to go, of course.”

He chuckled. “After going to school and now working here, with the exception of the moving stairs, I could probably get around here in my sleep.” Neville quickly cut himself off. “Oh, sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” You dismissed with a smile. 

Last year, you’d accidentally been continually poisoned. The first signs that something was amiss was your constant sleepwalking. By the end of it, you were bed ridden and near death. Neville had been the one to figure out the plant that poisoned you (it was a cross contamination with another plant you’d been using in your tea) and make you the herbal antidote that saved your life. That’s when you kissed him.

Arriving at the library now, you set down the books your were carrying onto the table that held your sorting pile. “Sorry for the mess.” You apologized.

Neville circled the table, eyeing your pile. “No, don’t worry about it. You should see the mess that is my office right now. You’d think I let a bludger loose in it.” He chuckled.

You smiled.

“No way… is this-?” Neville picked up a massive textbook, flipping open the pages.

“The complete and extensive anatomy of the hippogriff-worm? Yeah, it is.” You answered, standing close to him so you could look at the page too. “I can’t believe they still make that part of the syllabus. Man was that read ever dry.”

“It was my favourite.” Neville stated still looking at the pages.

You looked up at him, surprised for a moment at how incredibly close your faces had gotten with sharing the book, though you mostly gaped in horror and embarrassment over having just insulted his favourite book.

He laughed. “I’m kissing- I MEAN KIDDING! I’m kidding.” He repeated nervously and slammed the book shut before nervously laughing as he returned it to the table. “Nobody liked that book. I had to be,” he paused, making sure he said the word right, “kidding.”

You shifted uncomfortably in your stance as the silence overwhelmed both of you. Clearly you needed to address things now.

“I’m sorry for kissing you last year…” You finally spit out.

“You are?” He asked.

“Well, I mean, aren’t you? Or, don’t you want me to be?” You rambled. “I mean, obviously I made you really uncomfortable, and it was probably just the adrenaline of not dying and having you save my life that made me do it. It was just, like, a ‘thank you’. It meant nothing. Right?”

Neville was quiet for a beat before he responded. “Well… if that’s how you really feel.”

“Isn’t... that how you feel?” You asked.

He shrugged. “Not really. But if you want to forget about it then we can.” 

You stared at the books, shaking your head. “I… don’t want to forget about it…” you admitted quietly.

Gently you felt him take your hand in his, rubbing it with his thumb. You looked back to his face.

“Neither do I.” He gave you a soft smile.

Bringing his other hand to your chin, he tilted your head towards his, leaning in and pressing a sweet kiss to your lips.

Both excitement and relief swept over as you no longer had to fear that the kiss before would be the last with him. Still holding hands, you squeezed his as you brought your lips together again.

~~~

It wasn’t long before the kisses grew deeper and your hands began to wander.

“Oh, sorry!” Neville mumbled an apology against your lips after grazing your butt with his hand.

You smiled into the next kiss, grabbing his hand with yours and firmly placing it on your butt.

“Go for it.” You whispered in his ear then began leaving kisses down his neck.

With one hand gripping your butt, Neville’s other hand was wound in your hair. He placed a kiss to your head as you continued on his neck.

“Your hair smells really good.” He breathed out.

“Thanks,” you said, reaching his collar bone. You pulled back a moment, trailing your fingers lightly along his chest. “Is it okay if we take this off baby?” You asked, referring to the polo shirt he was wearing.

He nodded quickly, before hesitating a moment.

You smiled, able to read his mind. “Relax sweetheart,” you kissed him again, “we’re the only ones here, remember?”

“Right, of course.” He agreed, pulling off the shirt.

Kissing him again, you brought your hand back to his chest, gently pushing him backward and into the wooden desk chair situated behind him. You pulled off your own shirt, tossing it to the side. Climbing into his lap, you straddled him. If his feelings hadn’t been clear to you before, they certainly were now as you grinded into him with the next series of kisses.

You felt as his fingertips trailed along your back, near your bra. When pulling away for a second to catch your breath, you gave him a nod of permission, quickly followed by him removing your bra and kneading your breasts.

Taking his turn now to kiss your neck, you felt his quiet moans and sharp breaths come against your skin.

“Getting needy baby boy?” You asked, to which his only response was another moan. You smirked as you stood, getting off of him.

His sad eyes blinked at you with confusion as you backed up.

“Just a second lovey,” you smiled, as you pulled off your pants. The golden light from the window behind made your silhouette glow, accentuating your curves.

Neville’s chest rose and fell quickly, though he tried to steady his excited breathing.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” he complimented, staring as you finished undressing.

A blush tinted your cheeks as you returned to him, going to work on the buttons of his trousers now too.

“Apparently so distracting that you didn’t even think to take off the rest of your own clothes.” You giggled, kneeling by his side.

“Oh, sorry.” He apologized, helping you slide them down just past his hips so his length would be freed.

You stared at it a moment, a mischievous twinkle in your eye. You flicked your tongue against his hard length making him twitch and let out a moan of frustration. 

Unable to hold back a smile at his desperation, your stood again before apologizing. “I’m sorry, I just had to be a little bit of a tease.” 

You moved so you were straddling him again, slowly lowering yourself until he was fully inside you.

Letting out a breathy gasp, you revelled in the feeling, letting your head fall back as you got used to his size. 

After a moment passed, you wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him deeply as you began to ride him. Meeting your hips with his, Neville bucked into you, pushing himself deeper with each time. You whined desperately with the rhythm.

He held you close to him, one arm going around your back to help support you, while the other pulled on your hair. Wordless, the only things he could utter were groans, and your name.

You felt your legs start to tremble and you began to lose your sense of control.

“Neville,” you moaned breathily, your kisses growing sloppy.

“I know,” he breathed out harshly in response.

Bucking his hips harder and more violently, he brought you to the very edge soon enough and let you come undone, following along with you. Both of you cried out loudly as you finished together, holding each other tightly in your arms.

~~~

Not long later when you were both putting your clothes back on and giving each other sweet glances, did you hear a voice.

“And I thought the students were bad.” Said the voice.

“Oh I know! Let’s hope they don’t make this a regular thing.” Came a second voice.

You and Neville both looked up to the walls with the sudden realization that the paintings had witnessed the entire thing.

You attempted to shrug and gave him a weak smile. “Well, at least it’s only them?”

As you exited the library together and turned the next corner, you nearly bump into Filch.

He glares at you a long moment before speaking. 

“You’re missing a button.” Filch sneered.

You looked to Neville, who quickly adjusted the buttons of his polo shirt, face beet red.

#Neville Longbottom #neville imagine #neville longbottom imagine #neville x reader #neville longbottom x reader #neville longbottom smut #neville smut #harry potter smut #my writing

[rumbelleshowdown]

Author: panicmoon

Prompt: water on the floor

Group: G

-

To Remember

“Rum?” Belle called out. Her husband had gone to make them some tea but hadn’t come back up yet. He presumably couldn’t hear her through the thick walls of the library and all the books. He was probably making them a bit of food as well. They hadn’t had lunch yet and it was nearly three o’clock. Both were hungry and it wasn’t like Belle could cook anything more than toast anyways. She let her thoughts drift from the book in her hands. It wasn’t that enticing anyways. It was a dumb bodice ripper that reviews were so horrid that Belle had to check it out for herself. She was pretty sure she and Rum had more fun reading it than most people. Though they weren’t exactly reading it.

Her husband was wonderful. An amazing man, with a kind heart, who had been hurt by many people in his life. When she first met him, he had built up impossibly high walls around him. Hiding behind a snappish and cold mask, desperate not to be hurt again. But she caught a glimpse of the man that was there behind those walls and she just had to meet him. It had taken a while but she finally found him and realized that she’d come to love him along the way.

They quickly became friends after he hired her to help around the pawnshop. She took lunch with him every day and eventually she realized that their relationship consisted of more than just friends or employer and employee. Their first kiss had him scuttering away, his self-loathing rearing its ugly head but she managed to convince him that, Yes Rum, I do actually like you. No, it wasn’t a mistake. Yes, I’d be very happy if you kissed me again. There we go. They got married about a year later and lived in newlywed bliss for a while. In all honestly, even after eight years of marriage, they still hadn’t left the newlywed phase and everything that came with it. They were happy.

She ran the library, helping around the pawnshop every now and then but Henry had taken over her job and Rum was happy to spend time with his grandson. Through him, he got to repair the strained relationship with his son, Neal, and Belle’s family got even bigger. She was sad that her father never saw what she did with Rummond but accepted that they would never see eye to eye. If he wanted to mend that relationship with his daughter then he would have to reach out first.

About six months ago, Rummond had had a heart attack. Two, actually. He flatlined in the hospital and their lives had been shaken completely. He spent three weeks in the hospital before Dr. Whale cleared him. The reason why it had taken so long was that Dr. Whale was very confused about why Rum had a heart attack in the first place. Nonetheless, they had been careful with his health ever since. But it was still a mystery, Rummond was healthy. Even Dr. Whale had said so and none of the tests revealed why he had the attacks. She noticed that Rum had been in pain before the attacks but it had coincided with their anniversary and they both thought it was just his leg acting up because of the extra physical exertion that came with the date.

Her eyes drifted to the antique clock on the wall and her nostalgic and blissful mood dropped. It wasn’t because of the clock. It was a beautiful piece than Rum had repaired a couple of years ago. Belle liked it so much that she convinced her husband to take it home with him instead of selling it. No, it was the time. Rummond had been gone for around thirty minutes. Forgetting the book in her lap, she rushed through the library doors, down the stairs and into the kitchen. She froze at the sight before her.

There lay her husband collapsed on the kitchen tile. She hesitantly stepped forward, one foot after another until she reached him. Her socks were wet, she realized slowly. Her eyes spotted the kettle near his right hand. Presumably, two teacups were shattered around him. He hadn’t even gotten to making the tea. The most worrying fact was that he wasn’t breathing. Belle dropped to her knees, desperately trying to feel for a pulse on his neck. She couldn’t find one. His phone sat on the kitchen counter and Belle grabbed it, desperately calling 911 and explaining the situation to the operator. She shook her husband desperately, trying to get him to wake up. She pulled him onto her lap, into a tight hug. It felt like hours, she sat there, holding him and sobbing. Her pyjama bottoms were wet through but she didn’t care. The water around them felt like his blood. Her husband was dead but he wasn't murdered. What killed him? And where were the paramedics? But something happened that stopped all of Belle’s questions. Her entire train of though slammed to a stop. Rummond shifted. It was an impossibly slight movement but hugging him so tightly, she felt it.

She released him from her tight grasp, looking around desperately, for any signs of movement. Then his eyes opened. They were completely black, like a demon in all those horror movies. Something that looked like scales bloomed all through his face and most the rest of his body. They were a greenish-grey hue that seemed to sparkle with gold. Her eyes flicked back to his. They changed. Now like a lizard’s, a light brown mixed with flakes of gold.

A dark grin spread over his face. Revealing teeth that were rotten brown and completely nasty. She tried to pull away from this monster that used to be her husband but he had turned and gripped her arms tightly. Putting his body weight on her, he flipped them, restaining her hand above her head. She couldn’t get away. The more she squirmed away from him, the closer he got. The smile was nearly splitting apart his face. Then he whispered, “Hello, dearie.”

#rumbelle showdown 2020 #rumbelle fic #Round One entry #author: panicmoon

[trash-the-tozier]

if ur taking prompts 16 18 or 44 w stozier would be sweeet! love ur writing!

thank you so much anon! i have no self control so i kinda combined 18 and 44 into one idea. i hope you like it! i tried very hard to make it short and failed miserably i’m sorry for the delay

length: 2.9k | ao3warnings: none (attempted breaking and entering?)prompts:18. Fake dating AU44. I’m your new neighbour and I got locked out, help!

send me a cliche prompt (list here: x) and a pairing and i’ll write a drabble!

Stan had been living in New York for a solid three days. He’d moved in on Wednesday, spent Thursday unpacking as much as he could, and started his new job at an Accounting firm today, Friday. Not wanting to seem too antisocial to his new coworkers, he’d agreed to go out with them for a Happy Hour of sorts, and was now coming back home, exhausted and just ready to fall into bed. He made it up the four flights of stairs to his apartment, placed his hand on the handle, and tried to turn it.

The door handle wouldn’t budge.

Frowning, Stan tried it again. The doorknob had been a little sticky, sure, the lock sliding out and clicking in a couple of times, but it was nothing a little jostle with his keys couldn’t fix. Stan began digging around in his coat pockets, rooting around for a couple of minutes for his apartment key before stopping, cursing, and letting his head fall back.

He hadn’t updated his key ring yet. The only thing on the ring that he still used were his car keys; the house key and mailbox key still on the ring were for his old place. He’d been juggling his new keys around for the past couple of days, but he hadn’t gotten around to replacing them yet, and he knew, just knew that his apartment key was sitting on his kitchen counter next to the cold cup of coffee he’d also forgotten that morning. Stan was locked out.

Dusk had fallen hours ago, and it was cold out with the sun down. Stan was so tired, not at all feeling up for calling someone--who, the police?--to help him into his apartment. The possibility of renting a hotel room for the night did cross his mind, but it felt incredibly idiotic to spend the money that would take when he was already here, standing outside his apartment door and mere feet from his bed, but unable to get inside.

After jostling at the knob for a little longer, Stan decided he needed a new plan, glancing around for inspiration. He had neighbors on both sides, and on the left was a couple that frankly, going by the things Stan had heard through the rather thin wall of his living room, were terrifying people. He didn’t want to wake them up for help, even if they were home.

The apartment on the right, as far as Stan could tell, was empty. Over the three days that Stan had been here, the room next to his had been completely silent, and he hadn’t heard or seen anyone going in or out. Despite that though, it had all the signs of a tenant living there; mail in the mailbox, a doormat that said ‘WIPE YOUR FEET, STUPID’ in front of the door, and… Stan’s eye caught on something, causing him to frown.

There was a fist-sized and obviously fake rock sitting by the front door. Stan recognized it immediately as one of those ‘hide-a-key’ rocks, and almost laughed out loud; it would have blended in well, sure, if this person had a front yard. But the plastic rock was just sitting outside the door of an apartment building, and much more obvious than if this person had just slipped the key under the rug.

Stan began weighing his options. On the other side of the building, each apartment had a tiny balcony, separated only by a rail he could easily jump over. Stan knew for a fact that his own balcony door was unlocked, and he’d never seen hide nor hair of anyone else living in the apartment next door. He could use the key, slip through this stranger’s apartment as quickly as he could, then jump over the balcony railing and get into his own place.

Sure, that might be breaking and entering, but he wasn’t going to take anything. And did it really count if nobody actually lived there? Before he could talk himself out of it, Stan opened up the fake rock, got out the key, and got to work.

Almost immediately, a loud voice came floating up the stairs.

“No Mikey, I’m telling you!”

Stan resisted the urge to jump away. Those tenants probably didn’t know him, and didn’t know what apartment was his; he would just look like someone trying to enter their own apartment, as long as he didn’t act too dodgy about it.

“Richie, I’m not trying to embarrass you.” Came a second voice, quieter and more placating than the first. “He’s nice, really! I met him at the library, I think you would like him.”

“Well, I don’t need any more of your pity set-ups, alright? I’ve got a boyfriend, thank you very much.” The first voice--Richie, must be--said loudly.

“You somehow got a boyfriend between this week and last week, when you complained to me about how desperately single you were?” The “Mikey” guy’s voice was heavy with doubt.

“I did. I did! And he’s way cuter than all the dumb book club guys you’ve been matching me up with, so you should just stop trying to--”

A disbelieving silence. The apartment door clicked open, Stan stooping to replace the key into the little rock thing when he realized that the two guys that had been climbing the stairs weren’t talking anymore. He whirled around, and froze like a deer in the headlights.

There were two men standing behind him. One of them, a guy with a thin face, square jaw, and thick glasses had an arm outstretched, keys in hand, staring at Stan with incredulity. Stan knew an expression like that could only mean one thing, his stomach turning. Whoever this guy was, he was the person that lived in this apartment. The apartment than Stan was currently breaking into.

The second guy was looking between Stan and his friend, his face one of expectant caution. Stan didn’t know if he should just begin running, or if that would make the situation worse. Then, to Stan’s complete confusion, the first man’s face broke out into an incredible smile.

“I didn’t know you’d be here!” He exclaimed. By his voice Stan could tell this guy was the one named Richie, and he was absolutely beaming, hurrying close. “You didn’t tell me you were planning on stopping by tonight!”

His arms were open for a hug, and Stan simply let the hug happen, unsure of what to do. The man didn’t smell like alcohol, so he probably wasn’t drunk. What was going on? It wasn’t until the man whispered in Stan’s ear that things began to make sense.

“Please just play along with this.”

Oh. Oh. Richie, the entire walk up to the apartment, had been telling his friend about a new guy that he was dating. A guy that, apparently, was fake. A guy that Stan was supposed to pretend to be.

Well, Stan thought. It was better than being arrested, so he figured he might as well go with it.

“I wanted to surprise you!” Stan answered, reaching up to hug Richie back, and Richie pulled out of the hug, shock all over his face, possibly from the fact that his request had worked. Then he gave Stan a grateful--if not slightly mischievous--smile, and Stan felt something in his chest catch at the sight of it.

Richie turned back to his friend, his arm still around Stan’s shoulders, and Stan figured it was time to go all in. If luck had his back tonight, he would be able to use Richie’s apartment to get into his own after all.

“Hi, I’m Stanley Uris.” He said, holding out a hand. He didn’t even need to fake the slight embarrassment in his voice at his next words. “I’m, uh… I’m Richie’s boyfriend.”

“Mikey” reached out in kind, shaking Stan’s hand. “Mike Hanlon.” He said. “It’s… It’s nice to meet you, Stanley.”

“Stan, please.” Stan amended, Richie using his free hand to open his now-unlocked apartment door.

“Want a cup of coffee, Mikey?” Richie asked, but it didn’t seem like much of a question, and Mike didn’t even have time to answer before Stan found himself fully dragged into Richie’s kitchen, Richie flicking the lights on as he went.

“Alright.” Richie said before Stan could even speak, whirling around to face him and leaning against the counter. “If you’re gonna rob me, could you at least wait until my friend goes home? He was only going to stop in for a cup of coffee. Won’t take long”

“I…” Stan didn’t know what to say to that. “I don’t know what’s going on.” He confessed.

Richie sighed a little, pursing his lips, and Stan watched him, feeling like he shouldn’t find the annoyed expression attractive, but embarrassingly, something about it was.

“My friend Mike, he’s great. Love him to pieces. And he thinks I’m lonely and sad, which is true--” the offhand omission had Stan raising his eyebrows, but Richie didn’t even slow down; he began getting coffee together, fussing with the Keurig on the counter and placing a mug under the spicket-- “and he keeps trying to set me up. His intentions are good, but he’s shit at it. But the thing is, he won’t stop. He thinks I have to be dating someone, which I get, because he just won the goddamn nerd lottery and his librarian ass is engaged to a world famous horror fiction writer, but still. He won’t let me just be sad and lonely in peace.”

“Wait, who is he engaged to?” Stan asked in interest, trying to ignore the fact that this was, quite possibly, the weirdest conversation he’d ever had.

“Bill Denbrough.” Richie said with a wave of his hand, and Stan felt his jaw drop. He’d definitely heard of William Denbrough. He had a number of Denbrough paperbacks on his bookshelf.

“The Bill Denbrough?” Stan asked back, and Richie leaned back in exasperation.

“Is every guy I meet in the vicinity of Mike going to be a goddamn groupie?” He asked. “Bill isn’t even cool. He’s a fucking nerd. But I tell you what.” He fixed Stan with a look. “I’ll get you his autograph if you just pretend to be my boyfriend until Mike goes home. Deal?”

“Yeah.” Stan didn’t really need the extra incentive--the fact that Richie had hugged him and invited him in instead of calling the cops was reason enough for Stan to play along--but he would take it. “Sure. Deal.”

The Keurig stopped, Richie grabbing Mike’s coffee with one hand and extending the other out to Stan. So Stan took it, entwining their fingers together--again, something embarrassing in his chest jumped at the touch, but Stan forced it down--and they reentered the living room.

Richie, Stan was quick to learn, was a very touchy person. They sat next to each other on the couch, so close that if either of them moved an inch they would be in each other’s laps. Richie was very animated when he spoke, and he spoke a lot, so he was always moving, but whenever there was some sort of lull--usually Mike talking, or Stan finding something to contribute that wouldn’t raise any suspicions about just how much of a stranger he was--Richie’s hand would rest on him in some way, over the back of the couch and rubbing a small circle on his shoulder, or playing absently with his fingers, or feather-light on his knee. And while Stan would normally be annoyed by something like that, he found he didn’t mind. It made him feel noticed, and paid attention to when he spoke. Even though it was fake, it made him feel adored.

They talked until Mike finished his coffee, Stan finding out through context clues that Richie’s apartment had seemed empty because for the past couple of days it had been, Richie part of a friend group that took a trip together to celebrate Mike and Bill’s engagement. Stan rather liked Mike by the end of the interaction; he was a kind, sensible, good-natured guy who seemed very welcoming and interested in whatever Stan had to say.

Stan was finding that he liked Richie, too. He was loud, with huge nerdy glasses and a floppy haircut, but he truly was funny, and tall, with wide warm hands and an attractive amount of scruff. Stan blamed his exhaustion on the passing desire to feel the stubble burn that the barely-there beard would leave against his neck. It felt nice to have Richie’s hands on him.

“I won’t overstay my welcome. I’m sure you two want the rest of the evening together.” Mike said, getting to his feet. He went to the kitchen, washed out his coffee cup, and returned with his hand outstretched in Stan’s direction. “It was really nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too.” Stan said as he shook Mike’s hand, finding he meant it. Richie stood as well to give Mike a hug, and then he was out the door.

As soon as he was gone, Richie got a stray napkin and pen from the coffee table, writing IOU 1 Bill Denbrough autograph on it in a messy scrawl and handing it over to Stan.

“Let me know when you want to collect.” He said. “You know where I live. Hell, you did such a good job pretending that you like me that you can take one thing of value out of my apartment and I won’t even call the cops.”

Stan figured it was about time he explained something.

“Richie, I’m not trying to rob you.” He said. Richie frowned at him.

“Then what the fuck were you doing? Because you looked real fucking guilty when I walked up.” He said. “Breaking in for the thrill of it?”

“I… I live next door.” Stan said, pointing to the left wall of the living room with his thumb. “I just moved in, and I locked myself out of my apartment. I thought your apartment would be empty--because for the past couple days, it had been--and I thought that maybe I could just let myself in and climb over the balcony. I didn’t want to take anything.”

Richie stared him full in the face for a solid five seconds. Then he burst out laughing.

“You--you locked yourself out?” He gasped. He had a hand on his chest and was leaning back, his eyes closed, his nose scrunched, his voice high in amusement. “And you, you were trying to--god, the look on your face when you saw me, I really thought…” He faded into laughter again, Stan unable to do much more than stand there.

“Well, I’m glad you find it so funny.” He said, and Richie looked at him, his eyes alight with so much joy and amusement that Stan felt that twist in his chest a third time and decided it was high time for him to leave before he did something dumb, like kiss his stupidly cute next door neighbor.

Richie led Stan out to the balcony, Stan able to jump the rail easily. He checked his balcony door, just to make sure it was unlocked--it was--before turning back to Richie, putting the IOU napkin in his pocket.

“This has been the weirdest night of my life.” He confessed, and Richie grinned.

“That’s what happens when you live next to Richie Tozier.” He said, winking, the wink so cocky that it was sexy. “When am I going to see you again?”

“Well, I mean…” Was that an implied pickup line, or was Stan’s brain messing with him? “We’re neighbors, so it’s bound to happen sooner or later.”

“Yeah, but I was hoping for something a bit more concrete than that.” Richie was stepping closer to the railing, and Stan felt himself step closer too. “Like… I don’t know, coffee tomorrow at noon?”

“Noon?” Stan asked back.

“Yeah, I don’t really wake up early.”

“You’ll have to walk me there; I don’t know where any of the good coffee places are yet. I just moved here.”

“Exactly! It would be a crime if I didn’t welcome you to New York.”

They were very close now, Richie’s face illuminated only by the moon and the light streaming out through his kitchen. Richie only seemed to be a couple inches taller than him, but Stan still had to tilt his chin up a bit to look him in the eye.

“A crime?”

“Yeah. Someone’s gotta show that pretty face around.”

Richie grinned a bit, and Stan gave up on his--admittedly, weak--attempt at restraint, leaning in to kiss him.

Stan felt Richie take a surprised breath in through his nose, then was kissing him back, hands reaching out to touch him, one falling to his waist, the other on the side of his neck. Richie’s palm was a bit rough, and he smelled nice this close, and he was so warm that it was all Stan had not to melt against him. He pulled back instead, Richie making a small groaning noise in the back of his throat at the lost contact, which tugged a bit of a grin onto Stan’s face.

“Save it for tomorrow, alright?” He said. Looking reluctant, Richie pulled his hands away. “Night, Richie.”

“Goodnight, Stan.” Richie winked again. “Be sure to dream of me.”

“Fuck off.” Stan told him, turning to go inside, hearing Richie laugh as he did. Stan got ready for bed, the breath of the kiss still on his lips, now very excited for tomorrow morning. Or, tomorrow at noon.

#stozier #stan uris #richie tozier #stozier fic #it 2017 #it 2019 #it fic #myfic #asks #it's been a while since i've written these boys #and I haven't tried an adult dynamic before #so I hope my characterization doesn't suck too much! #Anonymous

[handypolymath]

WIP challenge

I was tagged by @ellewritesfiction to post the first sentence of some of my works in progress, and I’ve been struggling with this because I’m only rarely a chronological writer, and I’m currently trying to wrap up a WIP I’ve been posting as I go since last August. I also co-write with @thassalia a lot, so sometimes the first sentence isn’t mine!

So I’m cheating all over the place with this one, in part to reassure myself that finishing and letting go of Electronic Thumb is a good thing, I’ve got some interesting places to land.

Dr. Sock Sez - where they find a baby in a lab jar

Bruce pulls the poor thing out of the gestation canister, flailing and sputtering because they’d taken out the power for the base before they realized the focus of the main lab was this baby in a fucking jar, and the only thing that keeps him from hulking out is not that Tony makes a ‘filthy Bene Tleilax’ joke, but that Steve gets it.

“That’s incredibly inappropriate,” the Captain bites out, “be useful and fetch the Bruce Out Kit.”

Blankets, Bruce thinks, would make it easier to keep a hold of this squirmy damp girl, who’s not much bigger than a handful but is putting up a good fight.

“Hey, Steve’s up to Herbert on the list!” Tony says, “If he’s up to Lovecraft does that mean we can’t call the baby Mi-Go?”

Natasha unfreezes, but her face is still blank with horror as she watches Bruce curl the tiny angry newborn against his shirt. She lunges toward the control panel and starts breaking into the system. She will find out exactly what they had done, were doing, planned to do with that girl.

Chiaroscuro - our Notorious AU

Natasha swings out the tone arm and stops the turntable, lifts the record and slips it back into the labeled sleeve.  She unsheathes the next record and aligns it on the center spindle, starts the platter turning, and sets the needle into the groove.

Dr. Bruce Banner makes very few calls, but the microphones in his apartment catch more than expected.  He’s a mutterer when he’s deep in thought, he hums and whistles depending on mood, and he’s carrying on a rather illuminating screaming feud with a neighbor.  She’s been out of town for a couple weeks on another errand of Carter’s, a field trip with a seasoned agent and yet another test that she passed without issues.  Now she’s playing catch-up on her analysis of Dr. Banner.

Clint has been in Santa Monica since Christmas.  She's teased him that at least he gets to talk to the scientist he’s assigned to, instead of just listening to them whistling along with Maria Callas and trading insults with the cranky old man across the alley.  In turn, Clint had described kimchi.  She’d asked if he realized he was talking to a Russian about cabbage.  He’d sniped that he’d eaten his own fair share of cabbage, thank you, and part of her share, and he wasn’t going to stand for any more even if Dr. Cho took offense.

Natasha sighs, and sets the needle back to the beginning of the track.  It’s stifling in this room, and it’s making her careless.  It’s also the hundredth time she’s listened to Dr. Banner whistle along to this aria from Manon, and a part of her brain has started choreographing a pas de deux to it.

At least he’s getting better at hitting the notes.

Go Out With A Lion’s Roar - just a working stiff on Sakaar

Hulk is sorry, and sorry for himself. He did what he could to make it right, but it’s flowers for a black eye.

The nightmare he was given lingers like a sour puke tongue, makes him feel anger like lava. What he woke up to...the anger turns in on himself.

He makes people sad, and dead. So he flicks off the screen and points the nose up.

The quinjet asks him questions, and he says, “Higher. Faster.” The machine shudders around him and talks to him about oxygen scrubbers. He flexes his hand, and pictures a scrubby sponge. He knows it’s not one of Banner’s memories, because he’s standing on a stool to reach the sink; it’s from the before time, before everything. He wasn’t always a monster. The jet levels out, and tells him about fuel levels and orbit decay.

He opens his fist, and pictures dogs shot into space. Russian dogs. He hopes the dogs weren’t lonely. They didn’t deserve that.

He punches himself in the head. He’s not a dog. He’s not a good boy. For a little while, he didn’t think he was a monster, either, but he’s less sure of that. He already knows Banner’s answer, so he wouldn’t ask him even if he could find him.

For Unlikely Carnal Knowledge - the bodyswapping one

It had been nearly 78 hours of Tony cycling through coffee, mango and algae smoothies, and scotch. Perhaps nibbling a little cheese. Pepper had last slept in her own bed three continents ago, her period was due any moment, and damn it, she was going to use her boyfriend as a heating pad whether he liked it or not.

She gets as far as nodding hello to Bruce, who's scribbling an equation onto a screen with his finger - she uses the same interface but with the financial template instead of half the Greek alphabet - and opening her mouth.

It's exactly like one of those old flash cubes going off. The spike of white blue light, the puffy sounding pop that also sounds like thin crackling glass, the whiff of hot carbon smell. The disorientation makes her grip the counter, but she still knocks her head against the screen and something jams the bridge of her nose. She pushes back, and a pair of eyeglasses go flying.

The Holtzmann Effect - Clint’s apartment building was an early work of Ivo Shandor

Steve isn’t impressed by the amount of material spread across the worktables, sheafs of blueprints and building permits, zoning board meeting notes and cloth-bound library volumes full of archeologists’ hand-drawn illustrations of bullae cuneiform, which Patty describes as Sumerian paperwork.

Steve is daunted.

“Do you drink coffee?” he asks, as Patty pulls out a used yellow legal pad and uncaps her pen with a twinkle in her eye. “I can make coffee, or go get coffee.”

“Not much of a reader?” She narrows her eyes. “Not enough action scanning primary sources for keywords? I thought you also got a boost with information processing, visual memory, that kind of thing.”

“I’m not afraid of hard work.” Steve bristles, “I want to help.”

“Then sit your ass down,” Patty shoves the thickest library book toward him, “and use your eidetic memory to find,” she flips though her pad to show him a page of Sumerian symbols carefully sketched: a stylized fish labeled ‘metal’, an athletic sock labeled ‘dog’, a striped wedge shape with a stem labeled ‘beer’, and a piece of erotic art, “anything that looks like these.”

Her frank expression dares him to give her any more guff.

“Anything to help,” Steve nod solemnly, then takes another look at the page. He points to the large pointed jar in the scene, from which the lady is drinking through a long straw while taking it from behind. “Is it safe to assume that’s also beer?”

Patty’s answer is a playful pout and, “I’m sure people are always bugging you about what you miss from back in the day. Well I wasn’t even alive for that part, but that’s my answer.”

Rust & Ague - that steampunk one

The Iron Man was the exception to every rule. Most airships were chartered cruisers, lumbering luxury liners, and official patrols, with a few oddball private ships here and there, small and ill-funded, or ostentatious fripperies. Stark's ship was a research vessel the size of a cruiser. It ran a small tight core crew, but rotated the bulk of its lower rank hands at every dock.

Those temporary crews were a potpourri mixed by the fine-boned hand of Virginie Petra Potts. She was a dynamo draped in daffodil crepe de chine, sitting on a camp chair behind a cleverly folding writing desk set midway down the dock. The Iron Man rose behind her, gleaming copper in the water, its solar sails furled into scrolls of gold, and she was her gatekeeper.

Main Vein - Jennifer Walters whistleblows on her diabolical law firm

"I...what do you know about Agent Romanoff?"

“You mean before finding out just now that she’s the pocket dynamite from the Battle of New York?” Jen’s look at him is reproachful, but in a teasing way. "I know she got me out of my apartment safe when I thought I’d be dead for sure. I know she had that jacket specially tailored around a double shoulder holster."

Bruce can't help checking the line of Natasha's back, remembering the feel of it snugged against his chest, surging against him slick with sweat. He takes a mouthful of ice water and crunches a cube.

Jen chews her own bite thoughtfully. "I find her skills comforting in a way I wouldn't have suspected a few weeks ago."

"Life is full of surprises."

Which is normally the kind of cliche conversation filler Bruce offers as a dry joke, but that's when the flash bang goes off.

#wip #i have not always been writing electronic thumb #writing is a ridiculous art

[thewritingambition]

The Butt of the Joke

(Originally posted on Reddit)

(Read by Madame Raven on her Youtube channel)

My boyfriend was a funny guy. He liked to pull pranks on me, which could be annoying at times. Nothing too mean, nothing that I wouldn't forgive him for or laugh about five minutes later, just silly things, such as changing my ringtone to something embarrassing, or posting something ludicrous to my Facebook if I left my phone unattended.

I would pout and pretend to be mad for a little while but I could never keep a straight face.

“Tariq, you are incorrigible!” I'd say, exasperated.

He'd laugh and say, “Hey, I gotta keep you on your toes, gorgeous.”

Honestly, it never bothered me. I was such an easy target. I'm a little too trusting by nature, tend to believe the best of everybody, will answer to surprising and unrealistic facts with a wide-eyed “Really?!” instead of the skepticism they deserve. Besides, I do have a good sense of humor. I suppose that was why we got along so well.

When I decided it was time Tariq had a taste of his own medicine, I wasn't out for revenge; mostly, I was trying to impress him. For three years, I had been at the mercy of his jokes, always giving him a shake of the head, while being otherwise harmless. Tariq always said I took myself too seriously, needed people to like me so very much all the time. I was the proverbial good girl.

“That's why I love you, gorgeous,” he'd told me on a few occasions. “You have a kind heart.”

I'm usually proud of that, but this time, I wanted to show him that I, too, could be a little mean. I wanted him to see that I could go toe-to-toe with him, a worthy adversary.

However, I had two major obstacles: one, Tariq was a clever and somewhat devious man. He'd see me coming a mile away; and two, I can't lie with a straight face. If I tried to trick him with a silly fact or a mean lie, he would be able to tell immediately – that is, if I didn't giggle my way through it. If I wanted Tariq to fall for it, I would have to think outside the box.

“One of these days, mister, I'm gonna get you good!” I'd told him once, hands on my hips and an expression on my face that was meant to be menacing, but I could already feel the giggles bubbling up my throat.

Tariq had laughed and said, “Of course you will, gorgeous. I believe you.”

He didn't though, and that was the one thing I had going for me. Tariq thought me so sweet and harmless that he wouldn't be expecting retaliation on my part. I only had one shot at this and I had better make it count.

My girlfriends suggested a variety of lies I could try.

“Tell him you're pregnant!”

“No, no! Tell him you've found Jesus and now he has to convert to Catholicism.”

“Tell him you've accidentally let it slip to his mother he's eating pork and drinking alcohol.”

All of which would definitely freak him out, but I doubted I could carry them through for more than thirty seconds before he caught on.

I gave myself a headache trying to come up with the perfect prank, something that would bring him to the verge of panic, then bring him back with a laughter and a look of admiration in his eyes, saying, “Damn, gorgeous! You might be a little evil, after all!”

I hadn't found a single idea I could execute to perfection, though, and I was starting to think that maybe I should just accept my incompetence as a prankster when I found it. Or rather, I found her.

I work at a local library, which is not half-bad. We're constantly understaffed but the hours are great and I get to spend time surrounded by books. That day, I was cleaning a few cupboards in the office, throwing away the junk that we didn't need anymore, you know, old posters for events that had already passed, damaged Halloween decorations, and so on. She was in the back of the cabinet and I had no idea how she'd ended up in there because I had never seen that poster before. I remember thinking to myself that I would definitely remember this particular poster if we had ever used it before because it was a good 5'5'' foot long and so incredibly creepy.

Now, I might be gentle and naive, but I am not a coward. I quite enjoy horror stories and scary pictures and usually have a good tolerance for it. Still, that poster made my heart skip a beat. Carolina, who'd been helping me clean, looked over my shoulder and said, “Shit, that's scary.”

I was a little relieved to see her shudder as well.

“What was this for?” I asked. There were no words on the poster, it was only the image of a woman dressed in white, dirty rags, her head tilted slightly forward as she smiled at you, her grin full of teeth and cruelty. One of her hands were touching the page and I could see her palm pressed to it as if she were touching a glass window, asking you to let her in. Behind her, there was mist covering tall, dry trees that seemed to be reaching out to grab her and drag her back into the fog.

That shouldn't have bothered me so much. It was only your typical cheesy horror picture: a creepy woman in rags giving you scary eyes. It did bother me though. Suddenly, I felt like a child again, looking at something that made me want to cover my eyes and grab my mother's hand, last I might have nightmares for a week.

“The hell do we use this for?” I asked. Carolina had been working at the library longer than I had.

Carolina shrugged. “I guess it's for Halloween?”

“I've never seen this up before.”

“Yeah, but who'd want that thing staring at you? The kids would start crying and then we'd have a bunch of angry mothers complaining at the front desk.”

That was true. No one should be forced to look at a picture of that woman, smiling at you as if she wanted to take your soul.

The idea came to me in a flash. It was so simple that it could never work, but I somehow knew that it would.

I love horror stories; Tariq, however, didn't. His mother, who claimed to have some sort of sixth sense or whatever, had put the fear of ghosts in his heart from a very early age. He was a very superstitious man. A scary flick was enough to make him jumpy for a couple of days. In fact, the closest I had ever come to pulling a prank on him was when I tried to wake him up one morning by tugging at his ankle.

“Babe, you're gonna be late-”

He'd screamed and recoiled, suddenly alert, eyes wide in terror. After he'd taken a moment to calm down, he started laughing. He said he'd thought I were the demon from the movie we'd watched the night before.

“Maybe I am,” I'd said, in a spooky voice. “Maybe I am here to drag you to hell.”

“Sure you are, gorgeous.”

A single glance at this poster had sent a chill down my spine; it was bound to get under Tariq's skin if he were to, say, wake up one morning with this thing standing at the foot of our bed, that woman smiling down at him...

It would definitely get a reaction out of him. If I pulled this off, he would never look at me the same way again. He would see me as a match. That is, until the next time he played a joke on me, which was bound to happen.

Still, that was the only idea I had had that I really liked, so I rolled up the poster and took it home with me.

I had one shot at this, so I planned it very carefully over the next five days. Tariq worked as a nurse at the Toronto Western Hospital and the following week, he would on the early morning shift, which meant he'd be up before the sunrise. All I had to do was be up before him, tape the poster to the wall on his side of the bed, and then leave the room, waiting for the moment he'd wake up, see the woman, and start screaming.

I know, not exactly a criminal mastermind, but I work with what I got.

I ran the plan through Carolina. She told me I had the sense of humor of a 12-year-old, but suggested we watched a horror movie before going to bed, to put him in the right state of mind. That Sunday night, I convinced him to rewatch Ju On, which is one of my favorites. Since the movie is in Japanese, a language neither of us speak, the subtitles meant he couldn't look away.

“If that creepy ghost woman comes for me, I'm offering you to her and saving myself,” he told me, cuddling up to me under the blankets.

I smiled, delighted at the opportunity that had presented itself to me. “I've already talked to her, babe. She's coming for your soul in the morning.”

He shuddered. “Very funny, gorgeous.”

God, I couldn't wait. I kept waking up every other hour, just waiting for my alarm clock. When time finally came, I slipped out of bed, making sure Tariq was still sleep. He was. Being as quiet I could, I took the poster off of my drawer and taped it to the wall on his side of the bed. The woman was so white that I could see her clearly in the dark. Her teeth seemed to sparkle in a menacing way and maybe that was all in my head, but she looked... gleeful. As if she knew what we were about to do and she approved of it.

I left my bedside lamp on, just in case – the last thing I needed was to ruin my prank with poor lighting.

I left the room giggling to myself and went to wait for Tariq in the kitchen. Yes, my plan was stupid and juvenile, but I couldn't wait to see his face. He might even be a little mad at me, but it would be worth it. Mister Tariq thought I was a sweet young lady who'd never dare to get back at him? Well, he was in for a surprise.

Ten minutes later, as I sipped my coffee, grinning to myself, I heard his alarm go off.

This is it!

A moment passed. Then another.

Tariq came into the kitchen after two minutes, rubbing the sleep off his eyes.

He saw me and said, “Up already, gorgeous?”

“Nooo, c'mon!” I whined, putting down my cup of coffee.

“What?”

“I thought you were going to scream!”

“Okay?”

“Were you even scared?”

“Of what?”

My jaw dropped. “You didn't even see it? C'mon! I left the light on and everything!”

“See... what?”

“The creepy woman!”

He stared at me. “You high on something, gorgeous?”

I was disappointed. I'd thought it was going to be a funny prank, but it turned out he hadn't even spotted her! He'd probably gotten out of the bedroom without opening his eyes. I should've stayed behind and made sure he'd looked at the wall.

“I left a poster for you- Here, I'll show you.”

“Gorgeous, I have to get going-.”

I yanked his hand and practically dragged him back to the bedroom. I was a little mad, I guess. All of that planning and the outcome had been the worst possible. Back in the room, I pointed at the poster.

“There, see, I got this-”

I stopped.

The woman was nowhere to be seen.

“What?” said Tariq, right behind me. He looked at the poster, which now only depicted a gray, empty forest covered in mist. “That's pretty, but a little too creepy for the bedroom, isn't it?”

I tore the thing from the wall and turned it around in my hands. I had to have taped the wrong side to the wall. I hadn't. This was the right side, the one with the trees and the woman. Yet, the woman had vanished.

I turned it around several times, as if I could find her if only I looked hard enough. Now, Tariq was looking at me, watching as I grew paler and paler.

“You okay there, Alicia?”

“This is you, right?”

“What did I do?”

“You found out about my prank and decided to get the jump on me.”

“You were going to prank me?”

“Tariq, c'mon, just admit it.”

“Alicia, I have no idea what you're talking about.” He looked at the bedside clock. “I have to have breakfast now, can we continue this in the kitchen?”

I was sure that Tariq was messing with me. That was very on brand for him. Still, I played along while he cooked and ate as I explained my plan to him, how I'd stumbled upon the creepy poster at work and decided to use it to give him a scare. And then I got to the part where the woman was nowhere to be found and watched his face for anything that might betray him. Tariq is a good liar, but, when the joke is really good, he can't help but smirk just a little and give himself away.

His face was dead serious as he chewed.

And then, he swallowed and gave me a smile.

“Nice try, gorgeous.”

I stared at him.

“Really, I would've freaked out if I had found that thing on the wall, looking down on me. You should have gone with that plan. Now, you're just overselling the whole thing.”

“Tariq, I am not joking.”

“Course you're not,” he said. “I'm sure the creepy little girl just walked out of the poster before I woke up.”

“It wasn't a little girl-”

“That would've been such a good prank too, Alicia,” he continued, ignoring me. “A pity you went with the 'our house is now haunted by the ghost of Poster Lady' routine.”

Again, I couldn't do anything but stare.

“Okay, Tariq, seriously, quit it,” I finally said, now getting annoyed. “I get it, you're the better prankster. Now go get the poster so that we can laugh at how clever you are.”

Tariq shrugged. “Not gonna admit it? Fine. I'll wait for her to come and claim my soul, then.”

That was when it occurred to me: he might not be lying. He wouldn't have resisted the chance to brag otherwise.

That made no sense, though. Tariq had to be responsible, he just had to. I couldn't find an explanation otherwise.

I tried to insist that I wasn't joking, but he didn't believe me. Right before he left for work, after I'd told him over and over again that I was dead serious, he commended me on my acting skills and commitment to the prank, then kissed me and left for work.

I went upstairs immediately and checked the poster again, half-expecting the woman to be back, laughing at me with her joyless smile, but she wasn't there. My mind raced in circles, trying to find an explanation for what had happened. Maybe Tariq really was messing with me, but if that were so, then my poster should've been hidden somewhere in the bedroom. I searched every nook and cranny that morning, I tore my bedroom down, I even checked the mattress and the vent. I found nothing.

He has to be behind it, I thought. He simply has to.

I kept looking for explanations. Maybe he's taken the poster with him.

No, his backpack had been in the kitchen with me.

He might have hidden the poster on himself, then.

No, no, I'd watched as he'd gotten dressed.

He must have hidden it in the washroom, he had to.

But he hadn't gone into the washroom after leaving the bedroom. I'd seen him.

Since I couldn't find a way to explain it, I did the next best thing: I tore that thing to pieces, threw it in the trash, and told myself not to think about it. It had probably been a trick of the light, or maybe the poster had been an item from a joke shop. Everything had a rational explanation, even if I couldn't find one.

That was six months ago. Every morning since then, I've woken up to find that thing beside my bed, grinning down at me.

At first, I thought I was having a nightmare and I would fumble for my cellphone or the bedside lamp to banish her from my mind. That used to work, but not anymore. Even when I close my eyes and cower under my blankets, I can still feel her feral grin on me, her cold eyes on my terrified face, delighted by my panic.

Tariq never saw her, she'd always disappear when he opened his eyes. He thought it was all part of the joke. Then, he thought I was going insane. I cried on his shoulder, over and over again, begging him to believe me. I screamed at him when he suggested I talk to a doctor, said it was all his fault. I'm honestly surprised it took him four months of this madness, and one unsuccessful move, for him to finally give up and leave me. He thinks that I need help.

Ever since he left, the woman has become bolder. She kneels beside me, coming inches from my face. She pulls my sheets down so that I will have nowhere to hide. She chuckles in the dark and that sound, low and menacing, echoes in the room long after she's gone.

The thing is... she never does anything but stare down on me with her dead eyes and toothy grin until I scream or cry. Sometimes, she lingers beside me for hours. Other days, she blinks into existence for only a second, just as I start to hope that maybe this morning she won't come.

She always does, though, no matter where I am.

I haven't been able to figure out what that thing is but I don't think it wants to hurt me. I kinda wish it were. Instead, she simply smiles at me. It's as if she knows how scared something that simple makes me.

It's as if she knows the joke is, as always, on me.

#horror #horror story #ghost stories

[assassinwolf189]

Mah Dudes I did the writing thing.

Here is one of my favorite pieces I’ve written. Also some extra info, Linina and George are siblings.

“Dian Gilberts.” “Yes him, he is the Regele-Nenorocit.”They all looked at him. “English dad.”George demanded. “It’s Romanian for damned King.”He pulled his key off of his neck, pushing away the large fish tank. “What a lovely title.”Linina said sarcastically as the floor separated itself, leading with a staircase to the following floor. “Damn sir, who are you in your private time.”Sam questioned as the lights dimly lit the large room filled with with books , weapons and artifacts. “I am a Marine biologist ,druidery adviser and father , I have no private time.”His eyes were filled with wonder. “Stay here.” Quinten ordered. “Linina give me your sword, someone else is here.” He walked up to the door, and peaked through.

"Oh, it's you." Quintin said snarkely rolling his eyes. "Hi?" "What do you three want this time?" He glared. "We need help." Eric muttered through the hole. "Let me guess , you're here to file a complaint for the missing people?"They stood silently, Ivan walked up behind them. "Actually sir , I am here to see your son, I brought him flowers. " Ivan smiled brightly, Quintin grinned. "George , your boyfriend is here to see you." He opened the door letting him in, closing the door again as Peter tried to pursue inwards. "Excuse me."He growled, feeling a jab to his ribs. "Yes Peter Stormbard, you are excused from my Marina." He growled at Quintin, whom met him with a sharp glare through his spectacles.

"Remember what we are here for."Eric muttered. "SO...? What do you need help with?" "Peter over here got himself into a brawl with a couple of shadows and had a mark burnt onto his arm, and we wanted to check it out, and the even bigger problem of my brother being missing, and we were wondering if you could help us find out what happened to the both of them." The lad suggested with a smile, that complimented his short brown hair and hazel nut eyes. "Well Aiden, I will indeed assist you in finding your brother , and helping Peter and Eric with their shadow markings, on my terms though." "Fine."Peter rolled his eyes, Quintin opened the large door, leading them inside to the other room.

"Nice Marina,- "Eric guessed, Peter Scoffed at his remarks. Eathen rolled his eyes sighing. "Pitiful." Peter snarled I facing yet another Jab to his rib-cage,Quintin continued on with a Smirk Wiring Upon his face,

" But George how on this green earth do we get them back?" ''By Mining them out of the ground." "They are not-diamonds or bloody chunks of gold "Linina argued. ''I don't know, Shailen and Micheal's friendship are worth a lot more then that" "Wait they've been taken too?!" She questioned in horror.. "Micheal was taken from the hospital yesterday, Shailen Is still unseen, she just disappeared , Cole says that he knocked her into the pool and disappeared into the showers and just didn't come back out again." George said quite calmly. "How the hell are you this calm about your family disappearing?" "K9 is on the case, and I know that if she soldiers on like this, I know we can too. Clearly you forget that we all get into sticky situations like this all the time, and the SDA helps all of us. And in times like this its best to stay calm...It's so hard but it needs to happen." He gave a sigh.

"It will take time but they will be found."  Sam sat there in silence witnessing the two's conversation in the "dead language" of Latin, baffeled ever so slightly, Quintin joined them followed by the others. They stood, a strange relieve of tension lit the room. "George, did you see who dropped in for you?" The old man smiled. "Who dropped in for me ?"The lad grinned. "So George, I think it's best we go looking for him."Linina flashed a smile leading him out the door quite quickly. "Now that that's out the way, I suppose we need to get to discussing the elephant in the room; so when did the disappearances start to happen?" He questioned taking a seat. "Three weeks ago, Louis got taken followed by Mason a few evenings after." Sam answered quietly . "A few of the kids were taken a week ago, my brother being one of them."Eathen added. "Do you know where these abductions happened or the time of day?" Quintin wrote down the extra details. "Around early morning and late at night, it mostly targets the top athletes-" "Yes but Sam, if it was the only reason Louis and Mason would definitely be her and you would be gone." "Relax peanut gallery, Sam will probably get taken later. Or not at all, because he's probably one of the hero's of the chapter." Eathen snorted. "Oh don't start with your, we are all living in a book gizz again Eathen." Peter rolled his eyes. "You know it's true." He prodded, Quintin pulled out another large weathered book. "Sam please go fetch the other three, I kind of need them for the rest of this investigation." Sam nodded and ascended up the round curved stairs.

They sat on the side of  the tank, Ivan still marveling the dolphins. "So Shailen is safe right?"Linina asked tenderly. "Well yes, wait why do you care?" "Because....I had plans....and I have questions and homework , I need to have answered." "Umm hmmm...what kind of questions...." "Just questions." "You like her don't you....the one girl that wouldn't just be a make out buddy..." "Just because I have questions doesn't mean I like her." "Well what questions were you going to ask her?" "When she's available....if she would like to go on with me to the exquisite art exhibition....and afterwards to a movie and  dinner at the gallery." "So a date?" "No." "Yes, it's just a friendly gathering between the two of you, under moonlight, between two great friends, that you'd actually dress up for ....yes that doesn't sound like a date at all." "Fine....it is a date...and I am interested, and no I wouldn't ever treat her like a tongue buddy..." "So it's best we get her back then ."

"Also what actually happened?" "Well Cole said that after she tossed a phone at him she went into the bathroom for a couple of hours."She cringed. "Cole's very stalkery, well he's gross." "Yes a cockroach, well I must say I can't expect anything else. He does talk to you after all." Linina laughed, nearly falling into the tank.

"You clearly want me to stab you with this Gucci heel again."George grinned. "But blood is so hard to get out saturn." "Its red, you wouldn't see the stain."George retorted. "Yes but dearest Georgie, blood stains brown." "But its Patent Leather It wouldn't Stain." "It would be even harder to get out, this is an atroccity."Linina flicked her hair. Sam came up to the top of the Marina. "Uh, your dad needs you down stairs."Sam grimaced. "Thank you, you sweet bean."Linina smiled.

"Such beautiful fish."Ivan marvelled "You do know that a bottle nose dolphin, is a mammal right?"She questioned with her brow raised. "Well the tales go like this."He gestured a side wards motion. "No. This isn't a dolphin tale where the dolphin has a weird circular motion, this is a normal dolphin where the tale goes up and down."She turned away looking to George.

"Dense."She muttered rolling her eyes. "Let me guess he smelt nice?" "Yes, and he looks good, and he's got a lovely personality."George replied. "I didn't say he was tastless, I'm just saying that you can't base a relationship on some one with a smellilality." He laughed. "Clearly you have type." Linina scoffed rolling her eyes. "Are we seriously pointing fingers, because you can't talk." He laughed "Oh really?" She challenged. "Two words. Tongue Buddies." She found it hard not to burst into laughter. "You've got me there."

They got to the library, glaring and snarking eachother out. "Finally you two are here." Quintin squinted at his book. "Sorry for taking all your precious time thou royal highness." Linina rolled her eyes. "So what else is there to know about this whole situation?" "Well Micheal disappeared from  the hospital." "WHAT?!" Quintin jerked. "Micheal was taken...and in hospital, why was he in hospital?" "The schools ice rink collapsed during a demon raid, and hit Micheal and amputated James other leg."She explained Quintens eyes widened in horror. "This is that family I serve and no -one tells me shit." "Anything else I missed???"

"George stabbed me with his Gucci red heels....twice."Linina looked at her shoes. "George you wear heels now?"He nodded to his fathers question. "Linina punched a few boys....and dated one of the assistants."Linina frowned at him. "See but your sister is bent to the point of no return, I can still mold you."They rolled their eyes.

"Could we stop talking about your family issues and get to the part as to how to fix me and not get me driven to the inferno?" "Zip it." Quintin answered. "Your attitude stinks worse then you do."George prodded. "Yeah dude, you need a dive in the pond or something...although you'd kill the fish and posion the dogs....So maybe the sanitary showers?" Linina taunted. "They're right Peter, you could do with a shower." "Quintin you're with them on that?"They were all grinning. "They're my kids, and the most logical and observant people I know...so when they say you smell, YOU STANK." Quintin began to laugh, the other two high-fived eachother. "Really." "Ok now let us get to business-" "To defeat the huns." Ivan replied.

@alqulyndrys

@darksiders-fanfic-and-drabbles

 @sketchyfandomgirl

@madyson-delayne

@Bloodrayne-44

#I've gotten better #I find this funny #sorry it's so long #Ignore my grammatical errors

[til-i-change-my-luck]

Mini Sterek Fic Rec

@nottooldforthisship sooooo… i made you a little rec. it’s just what i read and reread most often (i’ve probably rec’d half of this to you already and you probably rec’d the other) but i hope you like a few.

Familiar Poblems by BeniMaiko  (21.5k)

Stiles thinks he needs a familiar to be a stronger witch. He’s wrong. 

Oh my (let me look at those eyes) by Gorgeousgreymatter (41k)          

“A few months ago, he might’ve been able to solve this with some force—a little man-handling, a snarl, a glimpse of teeth. But he looks at Stiles’s broken face, knows he’s seen too much horror and blood and evil, the whole Big Bad Wolf routine is just going to fall flat. Because Derek looks at Stiles and he doesn’t carry himself like a teenager anymore. He carries himself like a soldier.”

i can smell it on your skin (i bet i can taste it in your blood) by brokentoy  (10k)

Stiles’ cover is blown the day Derek gets hit by Allison’s arrow.

The Price by theroguesgambit  (18k)

Stiles must surrender the most important thing in his life to protect the town… and no one can figure out what it was.

Miner For Truth and Delusion by blackofade  (21k)

Stiles stumbles across what he thinks is a cult in the preserve and ends up cursed so that everyone wants to get with him. It makes it harder for him to get things back to normal, but luckily there’s one person who’s unaffected.

Fault Line by MadcapRomantic  (11k)

When Derek comes to, his head hurts.

No, hurts is the wrong word. It’s not strong enough. His head feels like it’s being split in two, down the middle. His ears are ringing, and his vision is blurred.

But despite it all, strong and crisp and clear, is the underlying scent of home, pack, and mate.

brOken by HolyWater  (10k)

The day Derek comes back from his trip with Cora, he comes back alone. Stiles is the first one to see him, mouth hanging open slightly after he opens the front door to his house and sees him standing there awkwardly on his porch. He looks the same; leather jacket, permanent scowl, brooding eyebrows… but then again… he looks very different. His skin isn’t as pale as before, he doesn’t have any dark circles under his eyes, and it looks like he…

“You lost weight.”

It was suppose to come out as a question, he swears.

Derek rolls his eyes and sighs. “Nice to see you too, Stiles.”

“I mean, not that you where fat before, like, at all, but you don’t look as… muscle-y.” Stiles finishes lamely.

Wake Up Call by SylvieW  (10k)

Derek has nightmares and now that Laura is gone there’s no one to wake him up and comfort him.

Kiss Me on This Cold December Night by Leslie_Knope  (19k)

The hairs on the back of Stiles’ neck tingle, and he swallows hard against the unmistakable sensation of someone staring at him. He’s tempted to just ignore it, but after a few seconds, his curiosity wins out and he looks up from his phone instead. He doesn’t notice anything right away, flicking his gaze along the people on the other side of the intersection until he suddenly stops and backtracks. It’s a little hard to see, what with the thick drizzle and the cars whizzing between them, but he would recognize that glorious bearded face anywhere, even after six years. Holy shit.

An Alpha’s Mark by Piscaria  (12k)

Stiles never thought he’d get a tattoo – then he found out human pack members could grow stronger by taking an Alpha’s Mark.

Rare Books and Special Collections by KuriKuri  (15k)

Derek Hale hates libraries.

Unfortunately, not all books can be ordered on Amazon.

(Or: in which Derek is a grumpy omega writer, and Stiles is an annoyingly attractive alpha special collections librarian.)

Until the end starts by gottalovev  (16.7k)

When a distraught Stiles kisses him, Derek stops it for Stiles’ own good. It’s the right thing to do, even though he likes Stiles too. When weeks later Stiles falls for somebody else, Derek is happy for him. Really.

- or: Derek is self-sacrificing and pines like a champ, but eventually gets his happy ending. No partner betrayal.

Strong, Stronger, Strongest by Green  (16k)

Close to death, Stiles can choose to die or accept Derek as his Alpha. It’s up to the rest of the pack to heal him and face the Alpha pack threat.

Bite to Break Skin by Leela, Qafmaniac  (13k)

“You and Scott decided that the big bad wolf should get a chance to redeem himself, and guess what? I was punished for your bad decisions. Again. I’d say ‘silly human’ but I’m not that either. Not anymore and not by my fucking choice.”

I Just Need You by beckybrit  (10.8k)

“Derek?” He’s surprised at how steady his voice is, considering he’s absolutely terrified. It’s been a long time since he’s been afraid of Derek, but the eyes looking back at him now are full of hate and the promise of death. Stiles shudders but steadfastly refuses to look away. “Derek, I know it doesn’t look like it, but it’s me… Stiles.”

The Way We Began (or, What We’re Supposed to Be) by avioleta  (20k)

Stiles is attacked and ends up in a coma.  Derek is acting strange when he wakes up, and everything deteriorates quite rapidly from there.

But Not With Haste by uraneia  (20.7k)

It’s been years since Derek escaped from the hunters who killed his family and bound him in his human form. He travels solo, never staying in one place, keeping under the radar–until a skinny, smart-mouthed kid stows away in the back of his truck.

Four months ago Stiles’s first kiss put his best friend in a coma. His dad gave him a couple hundred bucks and a hug and told him to run. By the time Stiles witnesses the cage fighter known as Wolverine take out a shotgun and its wielder with his bare hands, he’s got a plan. He knows there’s a school in New York for kids like him. All he has to do is get there.

OR, in which Derek is the werewolf version of Wolverine and Stiles is Rogue and the plot of X-Men progresses accordingly, with a few notable deviations.

Testing the waters by grimm  (4k)

Prompt fill: “I would LOVE a future!fic where Stiles randomly bumps into Derek, maybe in nyc. He’s in college now or maybe even post college, and this is their first time interacting since Derek left Beacon Hills. Stiles is obviously SMOKING HOT now and Derek finally got his shit together and is a successful 30 something.”

A Story To Tell The Grandcubs  by mass_hipgnosis (3.6k)

Stiles asks the stranger standing next to him at the bar for help avoiding his creepy ex boyfriend.

#nottooldforthisship #sterek fic rec #sterek fics #a few of these wont be your kind of fics #but they're the ones i read and reread most often #so i'm rec'ing them to you #hoping you like one or two #that rhymed #like a mini poem #just for you #hahaha #if any of them get added to your #to read #let me know if you liked them

[anonwriter27]

Teen Spirit - Chapter Nine

Bran was stood by the steps leading up to the school. He was stood to the side, face hidden in a book, unseen by everyone else, especially a certain someone.

He kept his headphones in his ears, Little Talks by Of Monsters and Men playing as loud as his eardrums could bare. It was ironic really; he listened to this song every time, a song about talking, and yet he never found the courage to speak.

Bran had rehearsed this routine. He would casually linger by the stairs reading Great Expectations, as he turned the page he would look up and their eyes would meet from across the yard. They would smile at each other, and their romance would start from their.

This was all fantasy though, a fantasy Bran had thought about for four months, three weeks and six days. He was hopeful that it would work eventually, but as more time passed he grew more and more love sick.

Bran began to wonder why he bothered, he wouldn’t be interested in Bran; he dated tall, athletic men, Bran didn’t stand a chance. He was about to walk away, but then, right on cue, he arrived.

He was like something out of a movie, every shy smile, or hair flick had the ability to make Bran weak at the knees.

Jojen Reed, he wasn’t popular or beloved, to anyone else he was a regular guy. If only he knew that he could stop Bran’s whole world with a simple hello.

He was walking out of school which allowed Bran to admire him from afar. His hair was always combed and he tucked his shirt into his trousers. Bran would never admit it, but he loved that Jojen’s clothes were never creased.

He was so distracted that he didn’t notice his older brother come up behind him.

“Bran!?”

“Ahhh!” Bran jumped, startled to have been caught.

Robb chuckled, “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’ve been calling your name for the last five minutes.”

“Oh sorry….um….headphones.” Bran said and then pointed to his headphones as evidence (it was also a way to distract Robb from the burning blush on his cheeks).

“Yeah I can see that. Wanna get a coffee?” Robb asked and Bran nodded.

The two left to head to the café; Bran took one last look, sighing at his own desperation.

……………..

Robb slid a latte over to Bran, though his brother didn’t seem swayed. He decided to use a more tactical approach.

When they were younger and Bran was sad, Robb would sneak him a chocolate chip cookie from the cookie jar hidden on top of the refrigerator. Bran would be so grateful that he would tell Robb what was bothering him.

Robb then slid over the plate with the cookie, and to his delight Bran looked up at him.

“I’m not a child Robb.” Bran sighed while taking a bite.

“He says while digging in to his cookie.” Robb laughed, “What’s going on Bran?”

“What do you mean?” He asked, pretending to be clueless.

Robb gave him a look to say ‘really?’

“You’ve been distracted lately. You haven’t been cooking, or finishing your crosswords. We watched Rent last night and you didn’t shout at the screen when your favourite character died.”

“Just because I didn’t yell doesn’t mean it hurt any less….”

“You know what I mean Bran. Talk to me.”

Bran looked up at his big brother, damn those big blue eyes, they had the ability to unearth the deepest of secrets.

“Well, it’s like this.” Bran started and then sighed deeply, “I’m in love.”

“Love? Aren’t you a bit young for all that?” Robb asked.

“Love doesn’t require an age Robb.” Bran said exasperatedly, to which Robb only chuckled.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. So, whose the lucky lady?”

Bran took a large gulp, his breathing becoming more shallow. This was it, this was the first time he would say it out loud.

“His name is Jojen.” Bran said.

He expected Robb to look shocked, confused even; but he just sat there, his posture and expression didn’t change.

“Reed right? I know his sister Meera is in Myrcella’s class.”

“Umm yeah….”

“So are you two a couple or is it still early days?” Robb asked.

“If by early you mean, never spoken, then yes it’s early days.”

Robb chuckled, “Yeah I’ve been there.”

“Really?” Bran asked, he couldn’t imagine ‘the young wolf’ having issues talking to women.

“Have you tried getting to class early and pretending to read a book just to to see him?”

Bran nodded, clearly ashamed.

“Yeah that’s what I did. That’s how you know it’s special, if you’re prepared to act like a fool for them.”

“Robb?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you acting so laid back about this? I tell you I’m gay and you haven’t reacted, you don’t seem shocked or weirded out…”

“Why would I be weirded out?” Robb asked, visibly confused for the first time.

“Because I’m different.” Bran said, as if it was obvious.

“Are you still my brother?” Robb asked.

“Yes.” Bran answered.

“Do you still love to cook and clean?”

“Yes.” “Do you still have a guilty obsession with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?”

“……yes.”

“Then you’re not different Bran, you’re my little brother now and always.”

Bran could have cried; he’d heard horror stories of people coming out to their families, but he should have known better. Robb was the guy that snuck him cookies, bought him his favourite books for his birthday, he would stay up late with Bran and Rickon when they got scared by a story about White Walkers. Robb loved him unconditionally, why would that change now?

“Thank you Robb.” Bran said holding back his tears.

“Don’t thank me yet, we need to devise a plan.” Robb said, he sat up in his seat as if ready to conspire.

“Plan what exactly?”

“A way to get your guy! You can’t watch him from a distance forever.” Robb said as though it were obvious.

“Okay…. But what do I do? Or say? I’ve never done this before.” Bran asked panicked.

“It starts with hello.” Robb said plainly.

“Hello?”

“Surprisingly simple right?” Robb said and they both chuckled.

“But I can’t speak to him. Whenever I try I choke.” Bran said sadly.

Robb contemplated this, “Well you’ve always liked writing letters?”

They both smiled, happy to set out their plan.

………………

Robb went to see Myrcella that evening, eager to tell her that Bran was okay. When he got to her apartment he remembered how clumsy and foolish he was around Myrcella when he first met her.

She opened the door and smiled that beaming smile she reserved only for him, the one that could stop his heart.

“Hey! How was the coffee?” She asked.

He was about to answer when he tripped on the doorstep and fell over. Myrcella was quick to help him up.

“After all these months you’d think I’d be less of a fool.” Robb chuckled.

“Hmmmm?” She asked.

“Nothing.” He said and thought back to his little brother, knowing that what he was going through was the real deal. …………….

Bran got to school earlier than usual; he had a plan and nothing was going to get in his way.

He wrote his note, a simple hello. He had written hello on fifty bits of paper until he was satisfied with his handwriting (he even made Robb check it).

He slipped the note into Jojen’s locker, making sure that no one saw him do it. As soon as the note slipped through his fingers Bran ran away and hid in the library.

Every class he had seemed to last forever; he wanted to know what Jojen was thinking, but  then the overthinking began.

What if Jojen didn’t like the note? What if he hated the idea of talking to him? What if he was showing his friends the note and laughing at it?

The bell rang and it sounded like music to Bran’s ears. He bolted out of his class and looked around the corridor, Jojen was nowhere to be seen. Bran took his absence as his answer and started planning a night of tears and chocolate.

He opened his locker to grab his books and to his surprise a slip of paper fell onto the floor.

He picked it up and unfolded it, and his heart accelerated.

‘Hello.’ Was all It said, and yet those five letters nearly had Bran swooning.

Bran turned to see if the owner of the handwriting was anywhere to be seen and to his delight he was.

Stood at the other end of the corridor was Jojen leaning against the wall, a shy smile on his face. The bus beeped it’s horn for the final time and Jojen waved and left.

Bran remembered all the scenarios he’d imagined in his head, the time stopping moment, the joining of hearts. He must have replayed these fantasies a thousand times in his head, but nothing could have prepared him for the reality.

It was so much more than anything he could have ever imagined; so that night Bran raced home, eager to write his next note.

#robbcella #robb x myrcella #Robb Stark #Myrcella Baratheon #bran x jojen #game of thrones #modernAU #anonwriter27

[haectemporasunt]

26, 32, 33, 39, 43, 44, 50, 10??, 4, 35

26. Favoritepsychological Horror Movie

Ah geeze already a tough one right off the bat.  Um uh I’ll just choose one:

The Babadook! I thought it did a great job of showing the stress the mom was under, and I think (though some people disagree) that it kept the kid from being frustratingly annoying. The picture book was very well done, and scary, and I wish there had been more sequences involving it sharing creepy stories.

32. FavoriteAnimated Horror film

I’m blanking on any animated horror films i’ve seen, sorry! I’ll just post this, which did make me jump, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XHpuAAnHdEc, but alas i ve failed you :(

33. Scariestnon-horror movie

 Friday the 13th:  slashers aren’t really horror, fite me B)

Snark aside, there s plenty of movies that had scary bits in them that tore me up as a child. how about I put … the pressure chamber scene in License to Kill. The Bond villain knows one of his men isnt loyal so shoves the guy in a pressure chamber meant to get divers acclimated, you know. And the guy is begging and pleading and screaming in agony as the pressure increases. And he knows what’s going to happen, and I as a kid knew something unspeakable was about to happen, and then the Bond villain cuts a tube leading to the pressure chamber, and we have enough time to watch the doomed man inside gaze out as his head swells to monstrous proportions… and then SPLAT, the viewport is smeared red. The man burst.

It’s that the guy had time to know what was happening to him, and the way his head got so big. (shudder)

39. SomethingI used to be scared of that I now love

i hope you’re not trying to get me to admit that, although when i was little i was scared of it, nowadays i think the xenomorph is kinda hot!! because you’re wrong!!!!!

I do like Phantasm a lot more now than I did as a kid. When I was a kid the silver balls killed so brutally and so suddenly, they were horrible. But now that I’m older I guess I’m more used to sudden death happening in movies? I dunno.

 43. FavoriteHorror novel

I ve searched for years for good horror novels, and if anyone has suggestions i m more than happy to hear em! But one of my favorites is still Shirley Jackson’s Haunting of Hill House. Very well written, you get into the mindset of the protagonist, and it’s not very comfortable in there… I also identify a lot with how the protag identifies so strongly with a place and feels increasingly isolated from the others.

44. ScariestDocumentary

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g-SL4ejpP94&list=PLu3Kxnrkh94_qbd5XYXdzze2AYMh8Gd-_&index=4

i’ve wracked my brain but this is the closest thing I can think of. Real documentaries are scary in the numb real life sort of way where you realize that things are getting worse

not really ‘scary’

but anyway, this vid definitely gave me the creeps!

50.  Scariest movie ever

This is a cop out answer because I don’t know the name of the movie, but it scared the heck out of me. It was a haunted house flick, and a bunch of teens investigating it, and i was sitting their gripping my knees at eleven pm watching them get killed by supernatural phenomena. The glass in the windows wouldnt break so they couldnt escape, and I especially remember one scene where there was the stairwell up to the second floor, and the steps just led up into darkness, pure blackness. And at one point the camera just focuses on it, and we enjoy the tingling terror of waiting–something’s gonna happen, any second now, we’ll finally see the spirits haunting the house– and silence.

and then as the teens, unnerved, turn to walk away further down the corridor, it seems like it was a fakeout. Or, since it was an older cheaper movie, maybe just a straight up error.  And then! One of the teens screams like an animal as she falls to the ground and starts getting dragged up the stairs by something invisible. The other teens yelling and crying as they try to hold on to her– and then, in my memory, it’s fuzzy. On the one hand it seems most likely that they pulled her back, and comforted her, and then tried to escape out the garage or something.

but /i / remember her slipping out of her friends’ grasp and choking as she disappears into the darkness. And she’s never seen again.

and that was the scariest thing i ever saw in a proper published horror movie.

10. ScariestWitch [??]

hmm!!!!

it’s me. i am :3

Eh, well, there’s a witch from a children’s story I heard on the radio nearly twenty years ago, a witch who would turn her victims, animal and human alike, into stone, and arrange them in a stone circle up in the mountains. It was terrifying, hearing her horrid laugh echoing over the howling wind … I still think about her a lot. Even at the end of the story, when she’s turned into stone herself, it’s said her last shrieks still echoed around and around inside the stone circle …

4.    Favorite Scary Short Story

I have a more typical answer, and a better but technically incorrect answer because I never managed to find the rest of the pages of the ripped-up book.

The typical answer is: Room 1408, by Stephen King, because it’s the only short story that’s ever legitimately frightened me. How the room shifts subtly, and then not so subtly, and the goofy-when-you-try-to-describe-it-but-scary-when-I-read-it telephone voice blaring out scary nonsense.

The other answer is:

some years ago I was in my uncle’s home, looking through his books. He and I have a similar taste in literature so pretty much everything was a gem. Uncle did sometimes kinda cram his books into the shelves, though, so some got bent or bricked up by other books–which is annoying if you’re trying to survey all your options. So I was yanking out a couple books, when five or six yellowed pages fluttered out from behind some old tome and fluttered to the ground.

I pick them up, worried I’ve damaged a book. But no: these were free floating, they were the wrong size for all the other books on the shelf. And I read them. And they were a story about a man who was a caretaker for an old house. He was also exploring and investigating it on the side, because–the townsfolk claimed–the place was haunted. He walked the grounds, he found cold spots. Things moved when he wasn’t looking. There were secret passages leading to strange rooms. A weird house, to be sure. But haunted? The man scoffed.

And then, in the second week of his stay, he found he could no longer leave the house. The gate wouldnt budge. He would have to find a different way out, or hope that the woman who brought him food would show up a day or two early. I’m not describing this very well but I assure you the atmosphere was dense–I could feel the stress and isolation of this poor man who was rapidly running out of food, and the growing fear that there was indeed something stalking him through the rooms. He couldnt sleep without a light, but it had to be small so that there’d be little fear of it falling over and starting a fire, and even then he would wake up several times in the night to the sound of creaking floors a room or two over.

I was rapt. This is the sort of thing that happens in a gothic story, a guy stumbling across a scary story in a crumbling library. I remember the man was trying to use one of the secret passages  he’d discovered, hoping it would lead off the grounds to freedom. His light flickers, and there’s something in the tangled ivy coating the dank walls …

And that’s where the last scrap of paper ended.

Boy howdy i’ve searched a long time for the rest of that story!

35. Scariestgaming experience

We werent a gaming family, my brother and i, until highschool nearly. The first game that scared me was JumpStart Adventures 4th grade: Haunted Island. it is an edutainment game. Yes, i am rightfully ashamed of my fear.

The island in which the game is set has multiple pathways between the minigames, all dark paths in groaning woods, your feet clattering over crumbling bridges, ghosts whirring past, howling and heavy breaths coming nearer… luckily for me, because i got easily lost both in real life and in game spaces, the game would auto-move you if you clicked on a map the minigame you wished to get to. So you click, your character clipclops along, takes a left, a right, etc, Boom youre there.

but one day, I x’ed out of the map and couldnt figure out how to get it back. this was halfway through a ‘move’ and in trying to get it back i stopped my character mid-travel. So. for the first time in the game i was really deep in the woods with no idea how to get anywhere. i was trembling, i had to keep going, but in what direction?

i kept moving, and i would jump every time a ghost popped up, and (do remember this was a time pre-gamefaqs) i was in deadly fear that something was following me. as far as i knew the game could actually do that.

my parents gave up on me playing the game because the Big Bad of the game, a witch (scary, but not the scariest), flew into the clearing i was in in order to give me a quick minigame, and when she burst into view i screamed out loud at three oclock in the afternoon.

i did not have a good first impression of fourth grade.

and the worst thing to me was not just my cowardice at giving up but, the goal of the game is to save your classmates, theyve all been transformed into monsters. so when i stopped playing i had in essence abandoned them on that haunted island.

i preferred the ClueFinders games anyway, haha

#Anonymous

[caffeinatedwriters]

multiple of five for the meme

5. Favorite dead actor/actress?

2016 took Gene Wilder and Carrie Fisher from us. I was a Star Wars kid and Young Frankenstein got me through my late middle school years.

10. Favorite animated film?

OOOOOoooo man, that’s always a hard one since I thrive on animated works. (Plus it’s also complicated cause tons of films use CGI to the point where live-action and animation blur but I’ll answer straightforward)

WALL-E is one that’s stuck with me forever since I watched it along with Lilo & Stitch and Paranorman, but for recent films released I always cry over Moana and I love Kubo and the Two Strings.

15. What’s your favorite chick flick?

Legally Blonde. I’m also adding Legally Blonde 2 even though there was a really bullshit part to the opening that wasn’t handled well, but I still actually enjoy those movies.

20. Ever read a book so you can understand the movie?

I don’t think so? Although I really want to pick up the Pacific Rim novella because it adds a lot of worldbuilding stuff, and if there’s anything I’m a sucker for it’s sci-fi worldbuilding.

25. VHS, DVD, or Blu-Ray?

The inner child who has Wallace and Gromit shorts on VHS still says VHS, my inner aesthetic who has been exposed to good quality says Blu-Ray. But the practical me that is continuously glued to the computer and knows most devices play it says DVD.

30. Movie you wish was never made?

50 Shades of Gray. I’ve read a thousand smut-fics better than that Twilight-fic that would have made WAY better movies.

35. Favorite comedy movie?

Grand Budapest Hotel

40. Directors you’d like to see work together?

Not all directors, but can I just be salty and say Guillermo Del Toro, Junji Ito, and Kojima? WHAT THE HELL WAS KONAMI THINKING? I DIDN’T LIKE SILENT HILL UNTIL THE DEMO FOR SILENT HILL PT CAME OUT. THAT WAS THE TEAM WE COULD HAVE HAD FOR THAT GAME???

45. Favorite superhero film?

I’m biased. Deadpool.

50. The first movie you remember watching in theaters?

I don’t know if this is the first one I remember, but this one sticks. Lilo & Stitch I saw in theaters, but we went to a drive-in like two weeks later that showed it. A couple of kids didn’t want to watch Men In Black so we turned around to see Lilo across the lot. We didn’t have the radio tuned to it, but something weird clicked in my head. I remember. Every. Fucking. Line. From. The. Movie. Word for word without missing a beat. I don’t know how, but I was spot on and a bunch of kids just listened to me perform the lines from the movie. It was a night worth the mosquito bites.

55. Favorite sci-fi film?

BRUH. BRUUUUHHHHHH. THIS MY GENRE. Eldritch gods below give me strength, I’m going to go with Arrival? Most recent sci-fi movie that really blew me away, especially with it’s xenolinguistics. I could name a ton (Pacific Rim, Minority Report, The Fifth Element, District 9, Aliens etc.) but I’m also kinda drunk and would have to go through an entire movie library and the catalogue that is my shitty memory before giving a great answer.

60. Most visually stunning movie you’ve seen?

The Secret of Kells. The animation is absolutely gorgeous and it’s so stylized in it’s design. I do want to see Song of the Sea as well cause I know members of the studio worked on that too.

65. Horror movie that didn’t scare you?

I don’t know because 1) I’m not actually a as big a horror movie person, I like my horror on page and 2) My anxiety can be triggered by certain jump-scares and horror-movies thrive on that shit, and my anxiety attacks are not pretty. Usually accompanied by a bought of hyperventilation, asthma, and possibly passing out followed by relapse attacks and intense numbness.

70. First movie you saw on opening night?

… Idk if I ever saw one opening night? A movie has never been worth the stress of getting tickets?

#ask meme #personal shit