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#but i am cringe so i guess its ok

cerealmonster15 · 11 months

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um 🕺 fic ideas ive had in my brain a while that i havent gotten around to writing,,, via progressively rougher doodles lol. ramblings about the story ideas under da cut

first is treycay fic ft trey + his friendship with rook and vil, and also recently i considered adding cay + his friendship with light/pop music club perspective too. idk we’ll see. but initially the concept was like rook n vil seeing cay/trey all close and cute and making some comment to trey after cater leaves that theyd be cute together. trey admits he tried asking cater out once before but was REJECTED!!! but thru the power of friendship and introspection and self growth or whatever, thats not where their story ends!!!!!!!!! i had an idea like it a lil while ago and then i had a DREAM ABOUT IT in a very similar sense so the ideas kinda merged. def wanna write it sometime i miss treycay so much OUGH. it would go a lot into the nature of their friendship and personalities and stuff. i have THOUGHTS and FEELINGS and OPINIONS about them. caters crying in the last shot but IT’S OK HES FINE THIS IS A HAPPY STORY!!! HAPPY ENDING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

second one i had the idea for like, nearly if not a year ago lol. it would be a more ambitious one bc it would involve all the second years and im SCARED lol. specifically it’d be kalim centric in a kalisil story about kalim wanting to mend the broken relationship between a recently BROKEN UP JAMIAZU!!!!!! with the help of his good buddy classmate silver :) and also the other second years bc once they get together theyre all like “yea jamil and azul’s vibes have been horrendous ever since they broke up and it’s unbearable for everyone around them so we have to Do Something Right Now!!!” i think it was gonna involve kalim throwing a second year mixer party /scheming with the other second years , and he’d get extra help from silver and theyd grow all close n cute by the end..... but that one ive never thought out the details past the basic premise so thats largely why i havent written it.....[yet👀?]

#am i cringe. MAYBE. whatever!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#if i cant write them right now i will at least relieve some of The Madness with rough doodling lol #twisted wonderland #im not tagging the characters!!!#cereal tries to draw #twst #hmmm #cereal writes #just cuz i might want this post for ref lol. and it's fic brainstorming i guess #the second one could potentially be formatted as a chaptered fic i guess #MAYBE!!!! if i were to be so bold. and came up w/enough ideas lol #but lbr knowing me it will Not #the first one also could maybe MAYBE be like a 2-3 chapter thing. MAYBE. but theyd be short #so probably not. yea def not lol #lol i was looking up the lab coat outfits for silver and kalim #and then immeidately went 'i dont care its a doodle' and put everyone in #long rectangles LOL #whatever. u know what lab coats are. figure it out. fjsdklfjds #ok. god. bye!!!!!!!!!!

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sidsinning · 9 months

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the movie aint better ya goofs (don't read if you don't wanna hear my slander lol,,,)

"Movie!Gabriel is better than show!Gabriel because he actually cares for his son and gets redeemed"

istg this fandom's obsession with redemption needs to END

Morally better character ≠ better writing

Can I just get a piece of media that tells kids "hey, ur abusive parent was an asshole, and even if they had humanity you do not need to reconcile and forgive them in the end" bc I feel like that's what show!Gabriel leans towards which is great

Gabriel barely talks to Adrien in the movie and suddenly when he sees him under CN's mask his entire reign of terror, his determination to see his dead wife again ends in a tearful hug lmao come on now

("but the ending where Adrien suddenly loves his dad again???"- Astruc has been pretty blunt on Twitter that this perfect society you see in S5's ending is built off of a lie, so Adrien is def not gonna just keep that view)

"Adrien actually stands up to his dad in the movie!"

Movie!Adrien is legit a normal human boy, not a sentimonster who is literally physically incapable of fighting back against whoever has his amok

He DOES fight back (even in S1 as CN!), but people like to remember the show only up to S3. Guess what, he learns to fight back and stand up for himself through his growing bonds and relationships with those around him through character development ✨✨✨

Also, he is an abused kid??? In the show?? How can you knock him down a peg for not fighting back,,, 😭 Adrien's lesson isn't that he needs to learn how to fight back, it's that Nathalie shoulda called cps sooner!!! In the movie they are much more of an estranged father-son pair than anything abusive. So obviously the back talk is much easier too. Movie!Adrien gets to go out alone and with friends unless his dad has specifically planted an enemy where he is. Show!Adrien has been beaten, mind controlled, forced to hurt Marinette, isolated and locked up, etc.- he has been TERRIFIED of his dad multiple times.

"Marinette isn't an obsessive stalker in this!"

SIGH.

Man I am so sick of this complaint- the show has never rewarded Marinette for her obsessive behavior. BC IT IS A CHARACTER FLAW. One they use for cringe comedic purposes, but a flaw nonetheless. Every time she has done anything that hurts others in pursuit of Adrien she is punished by the writers. And bc the show has an episodic monster-of-the-week format, this plot is recycled a lot (which is its own complaint). And guess what? SHE STOPS BEING OBSESSIVE. YEAH. SHE STOPS DOING THAT SHIT- so what do you want now??? She grew out of it after it costs her the miraculous so why tf are yalls still hurling this at her like its a L,,,,

This Marinette is just a watered down boring version of show!Marinette. She's just a girl who gets insecure at times but grows confident bc she's Ladybug. Ok. So is our Marinette but MORE. Our Marinette is super smart, creative, resourceful, an overthinker, extremely kind and selfless to others, gets jealous and reckless when her emotions get the better of her, etc. She is fully formed even after watching just 3 episodes of S1.

Like the fact that they didn't even bother to include the oh so important hook of the show- her lucky charm power- shows they didn't care about doing this story justice- its so transparently lazy writing 💀 (miraculous of creation where??? CN gets cataclysm for destruction but what is movie!LB bringing to the yin yang table,,,)

Legitimately all the comparisons I'm hearing from people saying the movie is better are from those who just aren't caught up with the show where Marinette is no longer toxically obsessive with Adrien, where the plot/lore is insane but 10000000x better and more creative than what the movie gave us, the love square was much better developed EVEN FROM JUST THE ORIGINS EPISODES, etc. Istg these people stopped at S3 where the show was at its worst (if I were to pinpoint it)

Everything is so watered down or changed for the worse

Adrienette bonding was 1 conversation and 2 seconds about his mom in a voiceless montage. Marinette didn't fall for him bc of his kindness after a misunderstanding, it was bc he looked handsome in the library's light lol. He called her weird and didn't think twice about putting on his earphones to listen to more alpha podcasts. You really do wonder why she likes this dude over her partner CN bc they have no connection at all.

Movie!Adrien was an asshole don't you dare do show!Adrien dirty by comparing him to this ellen degeneres alien lookin mf

When movie!Adrien is crying after Mari reveals herself as LB, unlike the show, here you're like "yeah no you only like her now bc she's LB lol"

Anyways feel free to enjoy what you enjoy but uuuuuhhhh this movie getting a 3/10 for me would not rewatch

Oh wait the good things

-Visuals

-Some Ladynoir scenes were cute, like them playfully fighting with the accidental wall pin

-I liked Ladybug moving away from CN's kiss- nice hint of angst

-Chloe's coffee stain scene

-Luka cameos were cute

songs were bad or mid

ya das it

I guess feel free to talk to me in my inbox about your own thoughts if you wish (respectfully plz)

#ml #mlb #miraculous ladybug #ml movie salt #ml movie #miraculous awakening #sidrabbles #rant #making me dick ride for this show so hard is so sick and twisted but i cant let the germy stans remain unscathed #millionaire corporate ceo is ur manz huh come on now

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sansxreaderbraindump · 3 months

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"Stored Away" (a story idea)

Plot idea Sans au x reader One day when you were cleaning out your old drawer, you found your 2016 old fanart and fanfiction of you and sans being lovey dovely. you made this way back in middle school before you fell out of the fandom, man you were obsessed with this character and that alone made you cringed. You laughed as you made fun of yourself inside your own mind, going through the drawings and writing. Cringing at every word mistake and not very detailed parts like first meeting then straight towards dating? Kid [name] really wanted to go to the part they wanted. "Thank god, nobody had to see this dumpster fire."

Even though you hated your own old writing and drawings, you were charmed by it. It gave the embarrassing feeling yes, but also made you feel nostalgic.. So you grabbed a Black shoe box and threw in the "sansxreader" trash and stored it away inside your closet. Hoping to god that nobody can ever find it and be lost in time forever. After you finished cleaning out your old dresser, you cleaned yourself up and went to bed, But before you could even settled into bed you heard voices and groans from your closet. * well this isn't how I wanted to come out? * WHO DA F*CK ARE YOU PEOPLE!? WHY THE HELL AM I IN A CLOSET!? OW- BASTERD YOU JUST ELBOWED INTO MY F*CKING RIBS!! * NOW NOW NO NEED FOR CURSING, AS UNORTUNATE THIS SITUATION IS. I, THE MAGNIFENET SANS WILL BREAK OUT OF THIS IMPRESSIVE TRAP NO MATTER WHAT! MEHEHEHEHEH!! * NOW STEP BACK ME'S IM GOING TO FREE US!! * ok. Then BAM! Three sanses just broke out of your closet and in a instant they looked at you. * oh hey look its a human. "WHAT THE FUC-" (end) this very cool idea I agree 😎 also i thought of in the future chapters of this story idea if it becomes a fanfic, i would add in 2 sanses to the mix so you have 5 sanses to make sure you are loved 💪💪♥ Guess that snas's 2 Hints (very obvious) 1: "bro just don't be hungry *dies*" 2. "womp womp womp made ya kill ur own bro :/" did you guess it? YIP YIP HOOARY YOU GUESS IT RIGHT (because it very obvious) ITS HORROR AND DUST!!! :DDD had to put them in because they are my bad boy crushes 🥰 so uh if you reached to the end just want you to know I'm gonna make headcanons of this story ideas so stay around if ya want. (plz)

#sans x reader #undertale x reader #sans au x reader #CRINGE IS DEAD GUYS BE NOT ASHAMED 😎#i made this because “hehe get it skeletons in ur closet” but also “sansxreader” stuff in ur closet ✨#rant fanfic idea post

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hellonerf · 24 days

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suicide is discouraged in the workplace

im not even gonna try to be coherent here. this is not an analysis post i am braindead. if i was a better artist makima wouldve been my muse when i was deep into chainsawman. actuallt she kind of was but i pussyed out

OK everyone here can subconsciously understand this connection. dont get too hung up on makima's strong motherhood theme and i just thought about what if ame was motherly and i couldn't kill myself right aftee thinking that as i have no means to it. that was a joke its late and im just me. i decided i wasnt a fan of motherly ame though so all suicidal thoughts erased. i am really chill now

old makima fanart i drew that im trying not to rip my hairs out over thinking about it with ame. also dont worry if this makes tou find my mainblog or main accounts whatever

actually theyre really different in many ways now that im looking at these. ame is so much of a son and makima is so much of a mother its like oppsoite spectrums. but thay makes the commonalities fun actuallt. i keep thinking about the movies and makima hating bad movies. ame is not an art kid by any means does he even care of the beauty of the world? i doubt it. but he likes bad movies and he likes cheap entertainment so who knows... they'd disagree on that. well i think makima's opinion on that was pretty extreme so i think most would disagree with her really

i could imagine ame going "Chainsawman. Doesn't spit." and smoking for the first time to look cool like in movies only to pathetically cough. thats their common trait... artifice... humans... but in a way that loops back to being Really Human i guess. holds a kind of arrogance and hubris that is so associated with humanity. it cant be anything else. ame should kill himself i think he should get moments of clarity and awareness and want to kill himself rqlly bad

both concepts of control. awesome. SUICIDE IS NOT ENDORSED IN THE WRKPLACE. ame goes to protestant church once or twice and sleeps because hes useless. makima is baptised and goes to local catholic churches not the cathedrals she supports the local christians.FUCK i just remembered the country mouse city mouse thing. ame is a liar and hates everything and loves everything and never feels content. i like to imagine him as a country mouse so fucking bad i want him to chill out one day and go to those middle of nowheres i know exist in america(can i shove cana in here and get away with it). why are they in the city if they are country mice? because..... you know..... you understand..... another w for eternal unhappiness (refer to title of this post)(suicide is discouraged in the workplace)

they are evil bosses i am the employee and when i ask for a break they gaze at me with a vacant stare and smile and i know in my heart they are viewing me like i am beneath them. i get scared and run away but truth is they didnt hear my request. they do not register individual people

if they met they would know immediately and viceversa. because everyone knows subconsciously because lying is futile and everything melts away. ame:i know a toxic boymom when i see one... okay im kidding makima is a toxic boymom if u push the chainsawman in ur head 🙂 ame as a kind of control devil works inmy head. i really believe ame was a polite child but demanding in many ways. sincerely wanting.

ame:gun devil i'll give you one year of the lifespans of the american people. in exchange i want you to kill makima—that is... the control devil (i never got around to drawing this)(ame and gun devil can you imagine)

or:gun devil i'll give you one year of the lifespans of the american people. in exchange i want you to kill alfred f jones—that is... the united states of america (paradox)

throughout all this i wanted to cite the best makima artist in the world ever but i'd feel bad if they wouldn't want to be associated with evil hetalia america blog. also i want to be normal and not cringe at being cringe just becayse i think makima was a thunderstrike of genius that i shouldn't taint. ame is a more flexible character to me for obvious reasons. this is how i'd shove ame into makima's role. but u couldn't put makima as ame. only one way. im okay with that. concept idea consensus words fear control blablabla u get the point i hate using words dont care sleepy now

#ame bible #hetalia & chainsawman #maybe this post disappears later i dont know

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unhingedkinfessions · 2 months

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its really sweet to look at old fictionkin blogs. it's nice to see people like me who are being genuine about it while also like. being as serious as i am? not that there isnt people like that *now* but its nice to look at the people who came before me, who share a source or we even got the same kintypes. im scared to be geniune about my fictionkin identity, even in my most private of spaces that i know are safe its hard to stay serious out of a knee jerk reaction of "i MUST make it a joke so people dont think im /that/ serious and /that/ cringe" and i hate it because like. cringe culture is dead i can do whatever and yet i can't unlearn this. ive tried but its terrifying to be vulnerable. there's something nice about seeing people who you KNOW are the same as you being as geniune as you wish you could be without being guilty.

sorry this isn't unhinged this is just honest 2 am kinthoughts 😭

no honestly...not like those spaces Don't exist now but like. i remember the older kin community was less embarassed abt being open since i guess we had less eyes on us ? it wasn't known as Something Else by people so u could just fuck around freely. and its nice just seeing that w like. no irony poisoning . 🫂 its ok tho even tho were insane i do hope the blog is kind of a space to b open abt it <3

#not a kinfession #mod joker

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rendy-a · 1 year

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Cooking with Floyd

This is my last cooking event story. I hope you’ve enjoyed some of these. I’m not totally satisfied with the ending but its time to move on! I’m already getting househusband brainrot for some upcoming pieces. So, without further ado, here it is!

The halls of Night Raven College can be a dangerous place for a magicless student like you. You know that you must keep a certain level of awareness about you as you walk those hallowed halls to avoid the dangerous students you call classmates. Occasionally, even you forget your caution. Today, you pass by the listing of grades and see a cluster of students pushing to find out their placement among the ranks. It had been sometime since the antics of the first semester and the situation at Octavinelle but posting day still gives you an ominous feeling. You shake your head, as if to push the memory of everything that had happened back then aside and turn to walk away.

“Eh, Shrimpy?” you hear at your shoulder. You cringe slightly at the familiar voice; this is what comes of being distracted in the halls. “Oh, hi Floyd,” you say as you try to move away. The tall eel easily prevents your retreat by saddling up to your side and draping an arm across your shoulders. “Um, can I help you?” you ask tentatively. Floyd allows a wide grin to cross his face. “See Shrimpy, that’s what I like about you. I haven’t even told you what I want, and you’ve already agreed to help me.” You realize you’ve made a critical error. “Since you are so eager, I’m going to let you be my assistant. I’ll be over tonight, don’t keep me waiting, Shrimpy.” When he releases your shoulder, you scurry away and book it to class. You wonder to yourself, what just happened?

It's late at night and you are breathing a sigh of relief that Floyd seems to have had one of his infamous mood swings and forgotten all about…whatever it was that he wanted you for. You gave yourself a big stretch and a satisfied yawn. All’s well that ends well, you suppose. You decide to head up to bed early for once. Like a B rated horror movie, as soon as you turn your head, Floyd is there. “Ahhhh!” you scream. Floyd looks mildly interested in your reaction. “What’s going on Shrimpy? This some land-dweller thing?” You are about to go off on him when you remember his is a dangerous…well you aren’t exactly sure. Mafia henchman? Deranged psychopath? Anyway, not someone you want to mess with.

“Ah, Floyd,” you start carefully, “it’s so late. What are you doing here?” He gives you a quizzical expression. “Shrimpy, I told you I’d be over. I have to work at the Lounge after class, so of course I’m coming over after that,” he finishes in a tone that says ‘obviously.’ You give him a narrow-eyed look and finally ask, “So, what’s this all about? What am I supposed to be helping you with?”

Of all the things you could have imagined, baking cupcakes was not one of them. When Floyd explains he has been working on the perfect cupcake recipe but can’t quite get the secret ingredient right, you just stare back at him unbelievingly. Finally, you hazard to ask, “Just what is the secret ingredient?” He rolls his eyes at you and responds, “If I told you that, it wouldn’t be a secret!” Ok, so much for that. You decide the best thing to do is just to power through the baking and get him out of your dorm as soon as possible.

It’s an hour as you mix and bake your cupcakes. Floyd’s recipe is simple and small, it only ends up baking one large cupcake each. You aren’t sure about the so-called secret ingredient as Floyd seems to follow the recipe exactly. “Ok, so there you go. One super-secret special cupcake,” you state as you finish frosting your own cupcake. “Guess you can be going now?” you finish hopefully. Floyd frowns at you. “Nah Shrimpy, I can tell this isn’t right.” He picks up his cupcake and tosses it in the trash as your mouth falls open. “What are you doing Floyd? Don’t waste food!” You dive and pull the cupcake quickly from the trash. Sorry Grim but we both know you eat rocks from the floor so (5 second rule), this will still make a treat for you later. You look at him reproachfully. “Don’t worry Shrimpy, I’ll come back again tomorrow, and we’ll try again.” Again. Tomorrow. No! “What? Why? Are you sure, wouldn’t it just be better to buy a cupcake?” you finish in a flurry. Floyd gives you a narrow look. “Tomorrow.” Then he is gone into the night.

You spend the day dreading the night and, sure enough, soon after the closing time of Mostro Lounge, Floyd shows up at your dorm. You ask him what is on the agenda for this time, and he indicates you’ll be making the same recipe. You frown at that. If the recipe wasn’t good enough yesterday, what makes him think it will be different today? You decide to pay closer attention to Floyd’s cooking, to see if you can figure out what the so-called secret ingredient is that isn’t coming out right. The sooner he bakes the perfect cupcake, the sooner he is gone from your life, after all. You are disturbed to notice that Floyd doesn’t really pay much attention to the recipe at all but instead spends an alarming amount of time observing you. And as for a secret ingredient, there doesn’t appear to be one; he follows the recipe exactly.

“Say Floyd,” you ask hesitantly, “if you think the cupcake needs a secret ingredient, don’t you have to add something that isn’t in the recipe?” He looks at you. “It doesn’t work like that Shrimpy. When its right, I’ll know and that is all there is to it.” He comes to your side, looming over you and examining your cupcakes. “Nope! Not right at all!” he declares with a frown. He picks up his cupcake and moves to throw it out again but, upon hearing your sharp intake of breath, tosses it on the counter instead. “Guess I’ll see you again tomorrow Shrimpy.” Then he turns on his heel and saunters away towards the front door. Tomorrow, great.

You are walking to class, lamenting your terrible luck, when you round the corner and realize it is about to get even worse. A couple of Savanahclaw students are lounging in the hall with a bored expression on their faces. You know that they’ll see you as easy entertainment if you can’t make a quick escape and…too late. A pair of claw-studded hands land on either shoulder and give you a shove. You stumble forward into the pack of grinning beastmen where the biggest coyote boy grabs you by the collar. “Well, well, well. What do we have here? A juicy bit of prey?” the seeming pack leader sneers. “What do you think boys? Should we play with our food or go straight to the meal?”

You expected to hear laughing agreement at the taunt, but it was strangely silent. Your lead tormentor seems to notice the unusual reaction as well and loosens his grip on you to turn around. Standing with a deceptive level of calmness in the center of the pack of students is Floyd. His eyes are dangerously cold when he says, “Shrimpy, you look like you aren’t having a good time. Do you need help?” You almost laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Was he seriously asking you this? “I’m not sure they don’t intend to actually eat me so, yeah, I wouldn’t mind some help right about now,” you say. Floyd’s expression shifts from cold to downright menacing. “You hear that, small fry? Shrimpy doesn’t want to play with you. So why don’t you scram before I get angry for real.” Floyd’s reputation is enough to make the pack rethink their plans. As they scurry off, you wonder what this favor is going to cost you.

“Thanks, so what do I owe,” you start before Floyd cuts you off. “Not now Shrimpy, or you’ll be late to class.” You look up at the clock on the wall with startlement and realize you’ll have to run to make it now. Floyd shoves your dropped books into your arms and gives you a small push off. It’s all the encouragement you need to run off to class. The answers you want will have to wait for the night.

That night, you are not taken by surprise when Floyd arrives. In fact, you’ve been waiting for him; anxious to hear the price of your sudden rescue. Floyd raises an eyebrow when you open the door for him. “What’s up Shrimpy? You aren’t usually this excited to see me.” You sigh, “End the suspense, just tell me what I owe you for earlier.” He looks at you for a moment. “Nothing. You asked for help, so I helped.” You scoff at him, “If you were so eager to assist, then why’d you make me ask for help first?” He frowns at you before answering in a low voice that sends chills down your spine. “I didn’t want to assume. People are always jumping to conclusions about Jade and me, I am careful to not do the same to other people. Especially not ones I like.” He then shoulders past you into the dorm.

You stand with the door open for a moment, looking out into the darkening night in shock. Of all the scenarios you had envisioned, that wasn’t one of them. A cold breeze brings you back to yourself and you quietly shut the door and head tentatively to the kitchen. Floyd is silently setting up his cooking area while setting your ingredient portions aside. It looks like awkward baking is still on for tonight. You walk slowly to the counter and look at the things he’s set there for you, tapping your finger against the spoon absentmindedly. “I didn’t mean it like that,” you finally say. “I just thought it was obvious that I wasn’t going to handle that myself.” Floyd looks over at you, “I dunno, maybe you don’t give yourself enough credit. You beat Azul, didn’t you? You were cleaver enough to foil our plans, weren’t you? Who am I to say that you couldn’t escape from a puny school of fish like them?” You feel oddly complimented by his assessment of your meager battle skills. You feel your lips tweak up into something that is almost a smile before settling back into your normal stoic expression. Then, you reach for your first ingredient to begin tonight’s task.

You both finish your cupcakes in a pensive silence, each seeming to have a lot on your mind. Unsurprisingly, the cupcakes of today’s session do not pass Floyd’s inspection and he departs, as usual. You lay in bed later that night thinking about the day’s events; the bizarre amount of faith Floyd has in your abilities and your own preconceptions about him. Finally, you had to admit that he was right; you had assumed a great deal about Floyd without really trying to get to know him at all. Even though he hadn’t asked it of you, you decide that tomorrow, you’ll pay him back in your own way by trying to get to know the genuine Floyd. No assumptions.

You had prepared yourself to weather the chaos that surrounded Floyd but what you hadn’t prepared yourself for was how fun you’d find it. When your nightly baking session started, you were determined to not shut Floyd down but hear out all of his crazy ideas and musings. He is surprisingly observant and picks up on it right away and it spurs him on to requesting increasingly crazy things. He gets a laugh out of suggesting you take a break to run and do something crazy. Finally, you decide, why not? No one is saying you were behind the water balloon ambush on the freshman of Pomefiore…but that is mainly because there are no security cameras on that side of the dorm and Floyd is particularly stealthy.

When you return to Ramshackle, nearly doubled over with laughter, you find your cupcakes a total mess. Grim must have been by in your absence. Floyd gives you a shrug and you improvise to complete this day’s batch. Hot cocoa mixed into vanilla batter makes a passable chocolate cake. You laugh as you give Floyd this pronouncement only to find him studying you carefully as you eat your still warm cupcake. He tilts his head quizzically as he watches you eat. After a time, you give a nervous laugh and ask him, “So what’s the decision on today’s lot? Is chaos and hot cocoa your secret ingredient?” He takes a long time in answering and you started to wonder if chaos can actually be the mystery ingredient. The longer the silence as Floyd seems to consider, the higher your eyebrows raise, until you are looking back at him in a state of extreme surprise. That seems to decide him. “Nah, it’s not quite right yet. You keep this one Shrimpy.” Then he pushes himself off the counter and heads toward the door, whistling a merry tune as he goes. The cupcake wasn’t right but you both seemed to have had a great night.

You were surprised to find yourself happily humming as the hour of your meeting with Floyd approaches. Now that you aren’t so intimidated by him, you find yourself curious to know more about him and life in the Coral Sea. When he finally arrives, you are practically bouncing along behind him on your way to the kitchen. You even play gracious host today, taking his jacket and setting it on the lounge sofa; telling him it will be more comfortable in the hot kitchen without it. For his part, Floyd also seems to be in a rare cooperative mood. When you hesitantly ask him about his life in the sea, he seems more than eager to share stories with you. He tells you about some of the escapades he got into with Jade and Azul in school, their adventure with going on land for the first time and you end the night trading stories about your families back home.

“Do you ever miss it?” you ask him suddenly. He looks at you with a soft smile, “Home, you mean?” Then he gives a hum as he considers. “Not really,” he says finally. You look at him surprised. “Not at all?” He gives a small laugh, “Home is nice and all but I’m not going to have as interesting a time down there as I am up here. Plus, I wouldn’t have met people like Shrimpy if I’d have stayed at home. So yeah, I’m not at all sad to be here instead of there.” You think that Floyd has a gift for making complicated situations seem simple. Still, you admire his outlook; he has decided to enjoy the surface and doesn’t look back on the sea with regret. You wish you could live your life the same way.

When the time comes for the nightly judgement, you aren’t at all sad to hear the cupcake doesn’t pass muster. You give a small shrug and say to Floyd, “Guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow then.” He gives you a wink in response before heading out the back door, heading toward the main campus. You pull the wrapper off your cupcake and take a bite as you head back into the lounge. He may be a great conversationalist, but he really is no judge of baked goods. After all this practice, your cupcake is phenomenal, if you do say so yourself. Just when you are about to congratulate yourself on a successful night, you pass by the sofa and see Floyd’s jacket sitting there forgotten.

You pick it up and head to look out the window. For a moment, you consider running after him to return it before realizing how ridiculous that is. You’ve been chased down by him before, you know how fast those long legs carry him. He’ll be long gone my now. Well, at least you know he has a high cold resistance, being from the Coral Sea. He’ll be fine, you decide and carry the jacket up to your room instead. You fold it nicely and set it on the chair by your bed; you’ll give it back to him tomorrow.

Sleep eludes you. You’ve been tossing and turning all night but each time you get slightly sleepy, you think about your conversations with Floyd. By the time you finish laughing again at some joke he told you or thinking about his mer stories, you find you are no longer sleepy. You give a big sigh; it’s going to be a long night. For what feels like the millionth time, you flop over and try to close your eyes but it’s no use. You allow them to creep open and gaze at the folded jacket, just an arm’s reach from your face and allow your thoughts to creep in. You wonder if he made it home ok... Maybe he got cold after all… You wonder if he noticed the missing jacket; if he knows where he left it... You wonder if his jacket smells like him. ‘Whoa, where did that one come from?’ you ask yourself in mild alarm. Its not like you have a crush on him, right? Right?

For being alone in a quiet room, you suddenly feel like there is too much going on. You waive your hands in front of your face to try to clear your thoughts. ‘It doesn’t matter what you think of Floyd. It’s just you alone right now and that is all that matters,’ you say to yourself. You turn your head back to the jacket. Does it smell like him? Finally, you can’t take it anymore and decide to pull the jacket off the chair and find out, just so you can get past this and go to sleep. It smells like cooked seafood from being in the lounge, cut grass from being outside, a little hint of ink (you guess it is from napping on his class notes but haven’t entirely ruled out fighting with Azul) and below it all, is a subtle scent like sea water that you think is all him. You catch yourself smiling and know that yes, you have somehow fallen for Floyd Leech.

You wake in the morning, hugging a pillow that is wrapped in Floyd’s jacket. It was your genius idea that finally helped lure you to sleep last night. You feel pretty sure this crosses a line into cringe territory, so you resolve to never mention this to anyone, especially not Floyd. Then you sit up in bed and nicely fold the jacket to return to him later. After breakfast, you hurry to the second year’s corridor, hoping to catch Floyd before the first class and return the jacket. You easily spot him among the sea of shorter students; his teal hair like a beacon for you to navigate by. You tentatively weave through the second-year students to reach his side and give his sleave a tug. When he turns to you with surprise, you know you’ve made and error. This isn’t Floyd at all but his twin Jade.

Jade pears at you curiously before zeroing in on the jacket bundled in your arms. A grin crosses his face as he lifts a hand to his chin. “Octavinelle colors. Prefect, are you planning a transfer?” You stumble out a negative, planning to apologize and leave as quickly as possible. “You are spending a lot of time with Floyd lately.” Jade says with a pensive look. “He seems happier lately. Do I have you to thank for that?”

You gape at him, working at what to say in response when you feel an arm drape over your shoulder. “So that is where that went. Thanks for bringing it back, Shrimpy.” You sigh in relief as Floyd appears at your side, just in time to save you from more awkward questions from Jade. The twins share a look and appear to have some non-verbal conversation carried out by facial expression alone. Finally Jade chuckles and says, “I better head to class. Thank you, prefect, for taking care of my brother.” He gives you one final knowing smile before departing.

Class is to start soon, and the halls are emptying out. You gasp as you realize you are wasting precious time and quickly turn to face Floyd. “AH! Here is your jacket. I forgot to give it back to you last night. Sorry about that!” you say quickly. Floyd smiles lazily and takes the jacket and drapes it over his shoulder. Then he pauses and turns to look more closely at the jacket. You nervously wonder if something is wrong – did you get the jacket dirty? After a moment, Floyd’s smile widens and he remarks, “I’ll see you tonight, ok Shrimpy.” Then he heads off to class. “Ok,” you call after him weakly, wondering what it was he’d noticed about the jacket that you’d missed.

The atmosphere tonight is new. Cooking with the boy you like just hits differently. You try to be cool but even you notice the difference. You smile at him over nothing, laugh a little too loud at his jokes and find your eyes resting on him an embarrassing long amount of time. So far though, he hasn’t said anything about it. You hope he is as oblivious to your attraction as he seems. It’s one thing to crush on Floyd but another entirely to admit it to him. The baking continues with both of you in a great mood.

You flourish your finished cupcake and say “Tada! Tenth time is the charm, or something like that. Right?” He smiles back at you and replies, “Yeah, this is it. It finally turned out right.” You are so startled that you nearly drop your cupcake. What? After all this time? Why now, only after you got to enjoy his company so much? “You’ve got to be kidding me. We’ve been making this same recipe for days and it’s always the same.” You peer questioningly at your cupcake, seemingly the same as each day before. “Really, what is the deal with this cupcake stuff?” He gives you a smug smile and tells you all about it. “I read it in a book on land-dwellers. When you have someone you like, you bake them a homemade treat and give it to them when you confess.” You are shocked by this declaration, both because it is so unexpectedly silly and because it means he likes someone. “Oh…I see,” you say, deflating slightly, “Well, what was all that about secret ingredients then?” He smiles softly, “The book says you need to make it with love. It’s my first land-dweller confession, so I want to make sure it’s right.”

It was sort of adorable, you thought, to have someone with such a scary reputation put so much effort into baking a cupcake with love. You give him a forced and awkward smile and wish him luck with his confession. “I’m sure they will love it, you worked so hard on it, after all.” Floyd tilts his head at you and tosses his cupcake in the sink. “Nah.” Your mouth falls open in shock, what just happened? “I don’t understand,” you say as you look at the discarded cupcake with confusion, “You just told me you were going to use that to confess. If you through it away, what was the point?”

“You don’t get it Shrimpy, I don’t want to MAKE a confession, I want to RECEIVE one. It was all in the book and when I read it, I knew that was what I wanted. Your land-dweller customs are so interesting.” Floyd said with a smile. You don’t immediately reply, trying to wrap your head around this sudden piece of information. “So, you want someone to confess to you. But who…?” He approaches you slowly, “We had fun today, didn’t we? And you like spending time with me, don’t you? And you must have even worn my jacket to make it smell so much like you.” You can feel the heat in your face building at every statement; he had noticed far too much. “So, what’s the problem Shrimpy?” Then the whole entirety of the situation hits you. “So, wait, you are saying that this whole thing was just so that I could fall for you because you needed a confession cupcake baked with love? Right from the beginning, this was always your plan?” He smiles in a predatory way. “Eels are very patient hunters. I know how to wait for the time to be right. I’ve liked you since you beat Azul’s overblot, but I knew you didn’t like me back. Now, hmm. Well…” He slides your cupcake over to you. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this. You’re not going to keep me waiting now, are you Shrimpy?” You shyly pick up your cupcake. He was many things; spontaneous, moody, observant, silly and most importantly the boy you liked. No, you won’t keep him waiting any longer. “Floyd, I have something I’d like to ask you.”

#50 follower event #floyd leech #floyd x reader #floyd leech x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland

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trashbins-stuff · 5 months

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Hello. I have seen that you have been tagged by @neobixiscool on one of their posts. I am planning to make a rant post on them. If you can provide some background info and your side of the story, that would be great. If you feel uncomfortable discussing this, that's ok. Have a good day/evening.

rub hands together like flies. my time has come/silly 😋😋

and thank you for coming to me :3 i appreciate it/gen also i get to go all cabby on this hehe

oh and, im not really hurt-hurted by them, i feel like mocha (mochablogger), liam (moonmxple) and mac (blairdrawzstuff) are most affected. They did have a book with my character in it but in a different universe or something (without my consent nor credit btw). Anyway under the cut is my observant. Honestly i think i might have jsut make the rant post for you lmao hrgbnhe 😭😭

the background/before:

mocha was working on a little story and xe said we could be in it! so obviously me and my friends signed up for the fun, not really expecting anything, the story was called "The Traumatized Cup", thats when we first meet him.

In one of the chapter mocha had introduced rubix, at first i didnt really think much about him, i was just aware of his presence, i do notice him and mocha started to become friends and i thought that was great :)

something that you should probably contact cuppy for more info:

so rubix (or according to rubix, "jasp" was roleplaying) and mocha were friends on facebook, and they roleplayed there i think, this i just know but apparently he said crap about liam (mocha's platonic partner and my best friend). Mocha is very sensitive and even in roleplay xe's still uncomfortable with what rubix said

"bezel's" divorce headcanon (and possible influence on further problems):

i heard people talked about it but never knew where it came from, but thne i found out and,,

tdlr; 1st one is about mocha and rubix, i dont know if mocha consent to it. 2nd one is uh a bit weird i i guess like he could have ask facemoji to make another one ;-;. 3rd ah yes the divorce that i had heard about!/vneg

rubix said bezel forced him into making the 1st one, even if thats true, rubix said the divorce was bezel's headcanon but hes the one that decided to post the 3rd one ("okay i asked facemoji again..")

seem kinda sus not gonna lie..but what do i nose right :-)

bezel probably influence more but even after all these months im still not sure if he really did do those things, idk lul, it is pretty weird that bezel's blog was a sideblog though (liam told me)

heres a bunch of words with link attach, those r my opinions lmao:

these u can just click to read so i hope thats okay

on wattpad he have a book in which he painted mocha, hazel and blair as manipulative (admittedly his writing was good, he could have used it for something different though)

he also uses some of our characters (such as mocha cuppy, hazel, blair, harp, blueberry, winter, bin (mine btw), seedling, galaxy journal,...etc) he did the delete that book tho, anyway heres more screenshot proof (credit @moonmxple )

mocha asked liam and neobix said its cringe

i remember this one also

the one where he tried to ban pet name and online dating (in 2023) (check the comment and other reblogs also theres alot, its practically a goldmine/silly)

and can i say he barely knows our friend group? like sure he knows mocha but hes trying to fit into our group (very poorly)

please read what cass wrote in the comment (thanks cass for speaking out about it ily)

the ask i sent him

NOT to get all bitchy here but mocha blocked you therefore you literally dont appear anywhere on xer dash, you're out of xer life and xe had no reason to pester you, not everything has to be about mocha. You guy's relationship (or supposedly lack there of) had change but honestly? thats okay they dont have to like the same people that they liked yesterday. You might think you know that's them but it wasnt, mocha in real life is kinder and better than the version inside of your head and they're happier now and its so sad that you cant see (because you're blocked)

and again, not everything has to be about YOU

he also made it all about HIM like excuse me ???? can i not complain for little bit without you coming in and nag about your problem ??? if you're suffering go talk to someone dont talk to online strangers ??? :)))???????

bro cant even read a long paragraph post like go back to elementary school lmao, also reporting ppl just because they use their right to not forgive you is such a sore loser move, it make you sound like petty six year old (also max be spitting facts tho)

bro brought out HIS right (reporting mocha, which he actually cant do if he doesnt have a valid reason) while ignore MOCHA's right (not forgiving him, which isnt a valid reason for him to report xem). The definition of petty is literally complain way too much about unimportant things that could have and should have ended already

"you dont have to relate to everything you see on the internet, somethings are simply not about you" :)

did you know that to report someone you have to click alot of buttons??

common salad W <3333

oh yeah, this doesnt have links but jasp/neobix is being so casual abt bezel's death but also uses it as a way to make people feel bad for getting upset with what he did

Sorry for playing the dickhead role, but you wouldn't be laughing if you knew how we felt about every single one of you. (why it sound serious all the sudden lol)

why i still doubt (uh and heads up, galaxy brush, kodu, cuppy,..others who think @/rubixisanidi0t was saying the truth, im not saying he isnt but you cant blame me for not trusting can you? please skip this part if you're sensitive):

naw so if this was suppose to be jasp then whats jasp motive lmao :/..he dont gain anything from this + who tell people their secret plan publicly?? + how did jasp know about rubixs hallucination?? rubix please dont tell such personal things to jsut your friends and please just talk to an adult in real life. And jasp, dont let these kind of things on the internet its not safe/srs

this is just straight up weird and also why did neobix/jasp said "old friend" like hes rubix?? when he supposedly told rubix and i quote "yeah.. Soo.... This person named @/mochablogger seemed like some cool person, and when I tried to talk with them... Nothing happened, so when I figured they didn't care... It all happened at once." neobix/jasp and mocha werent even friend to begin with why was he SO obssess over getting mochas forgiveness when they supposedly barely interact much??

aint it a bit weird how this is supposedly jasp/neobix but why would they make this video??? it???doesnt make any sense?? and like were rubix and jasp still good friend??? why wood bezel make jasp of all people do it??? unless yk

HOL UP, WAIT A MINUTE..if rose jelly dated rubix but rubix tunred out to be jasp then..WHO IS ROSE JELLY ACTUALLY DATING??????

if @/neobixiscool is suppose to be jasp then how did he get a screenshot for a show rubix was making???

i translated it and head up. it has death threat in it

you know, if someone stole my account and ruin my reputation i wouldnt be following them and be mutuals with them :)

i appreciate him saying hell save us but like..why would @/neobixiscool linked the real rubix's yt and discord knowing full well that the real rubix was there and could told joiners the truth??? that seem kinda dumb ngl also on the channel you can find a video called "waitng for forgiveness" which @/neobixiscool had talked about. and lets do a bit of timing here, if rubix really was telling the truth and havent been on social media since his alst post on @/rubixcuix (last posted in august) and the divorce arc and the roleplay thing and EVERYTHING had started in september, and if the yt belonged to rubix, then he shouldnt have known that mocha didnt forgive him and make that video????? bc he wasnt suppose to be there since august??? bc if anything he shouldnt be waiting for forgiveness bc if jasp really did steal his tumblr account then its not his fault?? like i find it absoltuely HILARIOUS that the evidence agaisnt what rubix said was on both the account @/neobixiscool AND @/rubixisanidi0t's PINNED post?? and it boggles my mind how no one talks abt this???/lh/nm i mean its quite obvious maybe im jsut really observant though idk

if you got your account stolen and jasp supposedly brought back a wattpad book, i dont think you should be continuing it?? and didnt you said your reported him on wattpad?? on the same account where the book is?? why are you acting like "yes i did promise them this and im fully aware of what happen even though i supposedly havent been here since august and i will continue this book" has it hit you?

uh yeah so these are just my silly little takes, but hey! what do i nose? :-)

#drama #my take on the drama is very fun hehe :) i had fun writing this #anyway thanks for reading my thoughts lul hope you have a great dayyyy <3

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soop-musical-fool · 10 months

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Ok I said I would make a pin full of music so here it is

First off, I mentioned KNOWER. It's a long project that started a really long time ago, but their best stuff is probably coming out like right now. As in, they are just about to release a new album, KNOWER FOREVER. The singles on it are incredible, like I'm The President just comes right out the gate with the fattest walkdown I've ever heard from a horn section. The B section makes it feel like I'm enjoying a song like I would a multiple-course meal. Then Crash The Car just transfixes you. Yes, yes, you should listen to those, but don't neglect the fire they put out in 2017 because you owe it to yourself to watch the live sesh of Overtime:

youtube

Oh god this post is gonna make viewing my blog super annoying isn't it

Anyway the next thing I gotta mention is Vulfpeck. These guys are famous for scamming Spotify, basically. They released an album full of 30-second tracks of pure silence, just absolutely nothing, titled Sleepify. They got online and said "Yo guys, help us raise money for a free concert by listening to this on loop while you sleep." What they were actually doing was exposing a loophole in the way Spotify calculated royalties, and before they could pull the album (citing "content policy violations," of course), Vulfpeck had already bagged around $20,000, so they put on the completely admission-free Sleepify Tour, which was incredibly fucking based of them.

Vulf went on to become several spin-off projects, all entirely independently released and full of some of the stankiest funk fusion that I cannot stop listening to.

My favorite of these projects, The Fearless Flyers, is headed by Cory Wong, with a guitar idol of mine for 5+ years Mark Lettieri and of course the government subsidized active bass of Joe Dart, but the keystone of the group is no doubt Nate Smith on drums. Dude makes a three-piece set onstage sound like a full kit.

Like just look at what they can do with the added power of sax:

youtube

And yeah, I could just talk about those guys, but let's get weirder.

I'm talking modal. The kind of stuff that makes my choir-trained mother cringe inward at the dissonance. Let's talk about the crunchiest, most feral fucking harmonies and keyboard solos that make you question what you thought you knew about chord progressions and key centers.

Obviously anyone super into this stuff will have already heard of Jacob Collier, so I won't show him. But THIS:

I listened to this the first time and it was just.. too much. I put it in its own specific playlist titled "very complex shit" immediately. When I went back to it, enough time had passed and I had learned enough that after way too many listens I can actually follow along with this insanity. This track blew my fucking mind, dude. I have never heard a chorus use so many of the 12 chromatic notes and still sound heavenly. The groove changes add so much texture. The flute solo goes off way too hard. The slower final section is just disgusting syncopation when the drums come back in. Everything about it is incredible, and this album came out in 2007. I am staring back at years of my life I spent not listening to this and ruminating my lack of music theory knowledge. And when I wanted to see if some kind transcribing jazz grad student like June Lee had uploaded anything of System, I found a 2020 reboot with 24 musicians playing System for over twice its original runtime, and guess who did the showstopping final solo??

JACOB FUCKING COLLIER.

Look him up if you don't know. The other musicians I obsess over inspire me. This guy makes me want to quit.

#196 #r196 #rule #music #jazz funk #modal jazz #free jazz #jacob collier #music nerd #infodump #like massive autistic infodump #sorry again for this #oh btw #did you notice the four grammys behind him?#yeah

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runner5anna · 4 months

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Christmas Cactus

Heyo @kodessa ! I am your ZR secret Santa. Here is a festive fic for you.

Thank you @notforconsumption and @delucadarling for organising this !

It's Christmas day in Able township. It's icey, it's cold, it's not very festive. But, Sam is quite determined to at least make something warm out of the bad day.

There is no spoilers, its SFW but there is discussions of grief and cussing. Also cringe pick up lines.

"Shit!" Bellowed Sam, along with a cacophony of clattering coming from downstairs. Five sucked a lungful of cold air in, kicking the many layers of blankets off of her, grabbed the knife from under the bedside table and ran downstairs. She shoved open the door, shouting “who the hell is there?” and slashing at the air. Her chest heaved with adrenaline and fatigue. The cold air pressed on her bare feet, and her pyjama trousers were halfway up her legs.

‘Uh - just me?” Answered Sam. He was hunched over the side, which was covered in cocoa powder and parts of a mug. The forest green hoodie he wore to bed was covered in water. “Wait - is that another knife, 5? I thought we talked about this. You don’t need to keep knives under the bed side table.”

5 grinned and placed it down on the side. “I don’t know what you mean.” She slid it into the drawer, intending to pick it up later. “Need a hand?”

“No - I think I’m ok.” he sighed. He picked up his foot, inspecting it closely. “I stubbed my toe and dropped the pink mug. I found the cocoa powder at the bottom of the drawer in the comms shack. Happy Christmas, I guess?” he sighed, dusted the reminisce of the brown powder off the base of his foot, and placed it down - deciding that it wasn’t broken, just sore. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Oh shit - that day already?” 5 ran her hands up her face, pressing her palms into her eyes. She really needed a shower. Her face felt slick with sweat and grime from the night. Maybe she’d treat herself later to a lukewarm one.

“Yeah. Snuck up on me too. I looked at the clock on the computer last night and it was the 24th! I wanted to surprise you with some hot cocoa but I pigged that one up pretty badly.” He sniffled, and the tears welled like little gems in the corner of his large brown eyes.

“Oh - bless your heart, Sammy. You’re too kind for this world.” 5 opened her arms, inviting him in for a hug. He placed his bristled chin on her head and sighed, relaxing into her touch. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“I know. I’m the best.” He grinned. “But - I wanted to. So I did.” He pulled away from 5 and picked up the brush from the side. “I need to clean up. Snow isn’t brown. Unless it's mixed with mud. Or zombie parts. But I suppose I’d quite like chocolate snow.”

“How’s about I make us hot chocolate with what we have left over? And we can do…” Five pressed her tongue against her teeth in thought. “...festive things.”

“What can we do? Really?”

5 lent down to scoop up some more powder back into the pot. If she grabbed a collider, she could at least filter out some of the dust. It was salvageable at least - and there wasn’t much of this stuff left in the world so they should at least treasure it. Somewhat disgusting, yes, but it was the apocalypse. If you could be disgusting, it was now. It would be good for her immune system development, her mother would say. “I’m not actually sure. It’s not like we have a big dinner we can make or gifts.”

“Janine has given us the day off - for those that want it.”

“I might head out eventually, then.”

Sam slowly turned around, and pleaded. “Please don’t. It’s -6. It’s freezing. The ground is solid. You’ll slip. Plus it’s Christmas. Let’s just have a day together - It’s been too long.”

5 pulled a hair from the powder. It was short, brown and blunt - one of Janine’s. Her hair managed to get everywhere. It was a nice reminder that she was there somewhere - a dependable figure even in the hardest of times. “I don’t know what we can do, really.” she tutted. “We don’t even have a tree.”

Sam gave a little gasp, and quickly shuffled over to the window where he held up Cedrick the Cactus. He was a medium sized fluffy plant - whose fuzz were actually tiny spines which Sam found out rather painfully. 5 wasn’t quite sure why she grabbed it off of the shelf, but she didn’t regret it. He kept 5 and Sam entertained, and it gave them something to talk about outside of the insanity of work, how tired they were and whoever had died recently.

“Let’s decorate Cedrick!”

“Won’t I be pulling spines out of your hand for the next week again?”

“No.” He pouted. “Get your crochet, I’ll get a pen and paper. Let’s make some Christmas clothes for him. It will be fun!”

5 felt her belly rise with giggles that Sam could only bring from her. He was a ray of sunshine - everything good in the world. When 5 was with Sam, she felt like the best version of herself, like the world was lighter and the breeze was fresher. Her heart fluttered and her cheeks began to flush with how much she realised she was smiling.

“Let me go get dressed and I’ll be with you.”

“Ah ah ah!” Sam grabbed her hand, gently pulling her back and wrapping his arms around her waist. “Absolutely not. No one gets dressed before midday on Christmas.”

“If you say so. But I need a shower later. I’ll get dressed then.”

“I’ll give you one of my shower tokens. My treat.”

“Don’t you need them?”

“Nah. I’m clean enough. And I don’t go running multiple times a week. They’re upstairs, I think in my jeans pocket.”

“My crochet is upstairs as well - I’ll grab them on the way. And who knows. If I’m feeling generous later I’ll let you share the shower later.” 5 purred as she slunk out of the room, leaving Sam blushing a deep shade of beetroot red.

5 plodded down the stairs, still in their faded plaid pyjamas as promised, crochet hooks and wool in hand. She turned into the kitchen to see Sam was doodling, colouring and shading. He held the paper happily up - on it was a bundle of red berries and green leaves. “Mistletoe!” he announced proudly. “You know what that means?”

“No.” Five teased, leaning across the table. She softly held his gaze. Usually, Sam’s eyes darted everywhere, like he was avoiding eye contact with everyone while gaining as much information around him as possible. In moments like this, his eyes - beautiful pools of watercolour brown - held steady and calm.

“It means you-” he poked 5 on the nose with the paper. “-have to give me a kiss.”

“Ugh. If you insist.” 5 joked. She placed her hand on the base of Sam’s neck, pulling him across the table and into a kiss. It was deep and long, as the two relaxed into each other. 5 inhaled a smell she’d grown to love so much of marmite, washing powder and ink. Before he pulled away, Sam nuzzled their noses together, grinning from ear to ear.

“Thank you.” He whispered.

“You’re welcome.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” Five sat down, pulling up a chair and setting her crochet on the table. “What do you think I should make?”

“A little scarf, or a hat maybe. I think a tiny scarf will be easier. If your hand starts to hurt you can help me with the decorations.”

“All right.” Five started with a quick slip not, starting to make the first chain. “I always feel a little startled when I need to relax. I’m always so on edge that when I set time aside to be quiet and have time to myself I’m always waiting for the proverbial hat to drop.”

Sam hummed in agreement. “It is hard to relax now isn’t it? With the grey wandering outside the walls and regularly staring death in the ugly maw.” He finished colouring in a little robbin and began to cut around it with the scissors.

“I thought you were banned from using scissors by Maxine after the great finger slice event.”

“For your information, that ban was temporary. How was I supposed to know that Maxine had just sharpened her scissors? Who has scissors that sharp anyway?” he subconsciously ran his thumb over the scar on his finger.

“Who uses massive scissors on such a tiny thing?”

“Oh, be quiet!” He threw the roll of string at 5’s head. “Can I have that back please.”

5 leaned down to grab it, and spoke while she slid it across the table. “Events always feel so odd now. And I never quite know how to feel. I’m happy I survived another year I suppose.” She finished off a row and started another. “It’s such a tiny scarf, I’ll be done soon.”

Sam stood up and boiled the kettle. “I’m just letting the glue set - I won’t spill the hot chocolate powder. Close your mouth runner 5 I can tell exactly what you’ll tease me about.”

“What do you mean?” She scoffed mockingly.

“You were going to make fun of me for sticking my hand to my head with aeroplane glue.”

“I was not.”

“Yes you were.”

The two went back and forth, squabbling in good spirits while Sam made the hot chocolate.

“Oh - Sam look! Cedrick has a little flower. He's bloomed.”

“He reminds me of you in a way. You thrive in the harshest times, and you are very pretty.” He passed a mug over to 5, giving her a gentle kiss on the head. “You’re my little pretty flower.”

“Thank you, darling.” 5 pulled the final thread through, finishing off the tiny scarf. It wasn’t great, considering she’d not spent long on the thing, and the colours didn’t quite match the decor that Sam made. “It looks so bad.”

“What? I think it looks good. Christmas trees are not supposed to look good.”

“Cedrick is a Christmas cactus, and we made this in about 45 minutes. It's more ironic than anything - I don’t think they’re supposed to look good. But, y’know, I like him more because we raised him together, and we decorated him as well.” Sam wrapped an arm around 5’s shoulders, squeezing them comfortingly. “I want to make another one next year. I think it would be a good tradition.”

“I think…I’d like that. Christmas is so traditional - and now for the first time in ages we can’t do all of them. I’m so used to being with everyone at Christmas that it feels almost positive to create new traditions.”

“I don’t think Christmas will ever not be hard.” Sam mused between sips of hot chocolate and blowing on too hot marshmallows. “I cried one year because I put out 6 sets of cutlery for dinner even though It had been 2 years since my grandad died. No - three.”

“It will be hard - but with you I feel I can handle it. Thank you, for being there for me Sam. I appreciate you.”

“I appreciate you too, 5.” He placed his head on top of

“I think it’s just all been a lot. Even if we are a few years into the apocalypse, Christmas will always feel different. But I am happy I can spend it with you.”

“You know what I really want to do?”

“What? Remember it’s not midday yet, so there's no getting dressed. It’s the Christmas law.”

“No - I follow Christmas law. I want to cuddle and watch the Doctor Who Christmas specials in bed. Do you have them on your laptop?”

“Do I ever! I thought you’d never ask. That is a new and old Christmas tradition I can get behind.”

#zombies run #zr #runner five #runner 5 #sam yao #zombies run!#5am #zr fic #zombies run secret Santa #zr secret Santa #zr secret Santa 2023 #Kodessa #note to self cross post to AO3 #you can scheduel in advance on tumblr not AO3 #i was stupid an did 3 secret santas this year so thats three fics #i did four if you count the flat secret Santa but i didn't write for that #but i have had an excellent time but i have written...so much...

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lindirs-gaze · 3 months

Note

Bilbo for the character ask thing <3

thank you!!

favorite thing about them: probably that he's so...normal? idk he feels very down to earth and relatable and when it comes to stories about great heroes and magic etc it's just really grounding to have someone who worries about the little things

least favorite thing about them: i feel like the whole "struck by lightning" moment in the books was a little cringe but who am i to judge, bro was having a rough night

favorite line: "...yish..."

brOTP: pretty much any of the dwarves. i like him being a surrogate uncle to fili and kili

OTP: bagginshield obvi

nOTP: i can't think of any that are super popular. i guess bilbo/thranduil kind of gives me the ick. not a huge fan of smaug/bilbo but it kind of has its place i guess?

random headcanon: the movies kind of imply this and i like to think that bilbo has weirdly good aim when it comes to throwing or swinging stuff. just a little talent he has

unpopular opinion: lmfao i get kind of annoyed when people paint bilbo as this savvy political genius, especially when it's contrasted with thorin somehow being a bumbling idiot that doesn't know how to run his own kingdom. like i said before, bilbo is a normal regular guy, he might know a bit about navigating precarious social situations but he can be downright petty and rude sometimes. he's not some kind of political mastermind. also i hate those incorrect quotes post that have bilbo being straight up mean to thorin. he would not fucking say that.

song i associate with them: this is when i realize i have way more songs for thorin lmao. this is a little bit bagginshield but i really like Nowhere / Bloodlines, Pt. 1 by Sir Sly

favorite picture of them: aiyah you people are making me go through the archives today. ok here.

#this was fun to do #i miss the hobbit fandom fr #i'm still here just not making stuff as much #bilbo baggins #the hobbit

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brynnhaunt · 5 months

Text

THE HAUNTING OF HASTINGS HOUSE

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FIRST FIVE CHAPTERS

Chapter 1

The sky was heavy with rain and, from the looks of it, would deliver at any moment. Emily hurried across the parking lot to the real estate office, and the bell above the glass door chimed above her as she entered the peaceful, air-conditioned interior of the office. Emily was thankful she arrived inside when she did because the sky opened with a torrential downpour just a few seconds after she had.

Emily stood there, watching the raindrops pelt against the glass windows. She could not believe how quickly the weather had turned. She turned to the receptionist, who was staring at her amusedly.

“Looks like you made it just in time,” the receptionist chuckled.

Emily smiled, feeling a bit embarrassed. “Yeah, it’s coming down out there.”

The receptionist nodded. “It’s been like this all week. I’m ready for some sunshine.”

Emily laughed. “Me too. I am here to meet Amori Black about a property she wanted to discuss with me. Do you know if she is available?”

The receptionist nodded. “Amori’s in her office. I will let her know you are here. Just take a seat in the waiting area.”

Emily thanked her and made her way to the seating area. She could not help but feel nervous. Emily saw a mirror above a leather couch, smoothed down her wavy red hair, and pinched her ivory cheeks for some color. She heard a door open in the back of the office, and a high-pitched feminine laugh came from the hallway. She plastered a smile as her high school friend from years ago appeared around the corner.

Emily saw Amori approach her with open arms, ready to embrace her old friend. She forced a smile and hugged her back, trying to ignore the feelings of inadequacy that washed over her. They parted, and Amori looked at her with a delighted expression. “Why Emily Buchanan!” “If you aren’t a sight for sore eyes!” Amori exclaimed.

They both sat on the couch, and Emily felt Amori’s piercing blue eyes. She shifted uncomfortably under the gaze, feeling self-conscious.

“So, Emily, I have a proposition for you that I think would be perfect for you,” Amori said, handing her a folder. “It’s an old mansion on the outskirts of town.” The former caretakers returned to their state to be with the grandkids two weeks ago.”

Amori Black was the pretty local realtor who gushed sweetness and southern hospitality. She was tall and imposing with platinum blond hair in a high ponytail that showed off her gorgeous cheekbones, and her full lips were painted a Knock Em Dead Red that revealed that showstopper high-wattage smile. Emily cringed under her scrutiny of her. She visibly shrunk in posture at Amori’s perfection compared to her mousy, plain appearance.

Amori grabbed Emily softly around her shoulders and pulled her to her. One of her long red nails brushed hard against the side of her neck, and Emily winced, but she did not draw away. Emily accepted the hug. Amori smelled like Coach Floral. It was a fragrance that she had worn since Emily knew her in grade school. It smelled great. It was then that Emily felt it -- the bump. Amori was pregnant. She glowed in an intelligent cherry-red pantsuit that hugged her tightly.

“God…why did I come here?” Emily thought silently. It was a mistake to come here. Amori wore a white satin blouse unbuttoned halfway, showing smooth, tanned skin and cleavage. Her baby bump stuck out prettily. She was announcing its impending arrival in what Emily guessed to be maybe a few more months. She stilled and ended the hug. Amori’s smile faded for just a moment but then returned brilliantly as before. “I am sorry, Ems. I was not thinking. I am so sorry.” Amori apologized. Now, Emily felt very awkward, and she just wanted to leave. Amori touched her on the small of her back with her hand.

“Let’s go to my office.” Amori led Emily down the hallway. “You just have a seat here, and we will do some paperwork, ok?” Emily was led to a large and bright sunny room painted a cheery bright yellow with gray laminate floors that made Amori’s red high heels click on the surface with every step she took. “Have a seat here, and I will be right back.” Amori left the room, and a few short minutes later, she came back in with a manila folder and slapped it down on the desk in front of them. Emily breathed in deeply and exhaled. Amori sat down opposite her and perched a pair of sassy black reading glasses on the bridge of her nose.

She pulled out a few papers, smiled down, and folded her arms in front of her on the table. She took off her glasses and looked at Emily.

“So,” her voice was more empathetic at this point. “How have you been, Ems? I know this has been so hard for you.” she sympathized. Amor’s expression looked sad.

Emily sighed and shook her head.

“I have just been taking it daily and dealing with it as best as possible,” she said softly. Amori pulled a small glass bowl with a lid before her and took the top off with a flourish. Amori had filled the dish with green candies in yellow wrappers. “Jolly Ranchers!” Amori exclaimed. “I have been craving them like crazy since carrying this little lady.” Emily’s green eyes widened in her pale, heart-shaped face. She bowed her head. It was as if Amori had taken just a little bit of pleasure in revealing the sex of her baby was a girl. Emily knew that Amori had a side like that. She liked to rub salt in the wound. This wound was wide open and bleeding still. It always would be. Amori noticed the dark shadow pass over Emily’s face.

“Fuck Ems!” she exclaimed. “I just can’t keep my mouth shut, can I?”

Emily shook her head slowly. “It is ok. You cannot tiptoe around me forever. You have your life to live and a beautiful baby girl on the way. Congrats to you and Phillip. “

Amori had that glow about her again. “Thank you so much, Ems. It sure has been long enough!” I was beginning to wonder if IVF would ever work.

“Would you like one?” she held out an apple Jolly Rancher in her left hand.

Emily held up her hand.

“I’m fine, but thank you.” she discouraged.

Amori popped a candy in her mouth and sucked on it loudly.

“So…here is the contract. Amori gathered a stack of papers and handed them over to Emily. On top of the pile was an old, grainy black-and-white photo of an old mansion.

Emily took the stack of papers in hand, but her eyes remained fixed on the photograph. The mansion in the photo was a grand old thing with a sprawling lawn and ivy-covered walls. Despite the image’s graininess, Emily could almost feel the cool, damp air around the old place.

Emily picked up the photo and stared at it. She felt a chill crawl down her spine. Amori sighed and leafed through some papers as she spoke.

“Mama said that it was a beautiful house back in its day. It was grand and stately, like something out of a movie. The same family has owned it for generations since the 1860s. Sadly, no one has lived there since the last family matriarch died in the 2020. “Emily looked up from the photo and stared at Amori incredulously. “Really? Who was the last one to live in the house? Do you know?” Amori nodded and smiled as she placed the papers back in order. “The last person to live there was Majorie Hastings. You remember her daughter, I bet? Her name was Hillary Hastings. The mousy-looking genius of a girl with plain features and huge Coke bottle glasses always jumps at the slightest sound. I always thought that she was so weird. She could have been pretty if she wore some makeup!” Emily tried hard to remember. “So, why is Hastings House not being sold? The family could get some major money on the house, right?’ Emily questioned.

Emily felt a thrill of excitement run through her. She had always loved old houses and the stories they held, and this mansion looked like it had plenty of both.

Emily took the stack of papers and the photo with a curious expression. She had never seen anything like it before. The image was old and worn, the corners bent and the edges frayed, but it still held an undeniable elegance.

Amori sighed. “Well, Hillary called me last week….and get this! She is married to a doctor, has three kids, and lives in New Zealand. Good for her, right?” she gushed.

Emily nodded in agreement. “Yes.”

Amori grabbed another Jolly Rancher and took it out of the wrapper.

“Hillary told me that she was forbidden to sell the mansion on her mother’s deathbed, and she promised her mom that she would not. She is going to fix it up and keep it.” She finished and grabbed a pen out of a plastic cup on the corner of the desk with the name Dafford Real Estate printed on it.

“She desires to have someone there to take care of it, and she will hire contractors to bring it back to its former glory and maybe break it up into units down the road or something, but it will always stay in the family.” she volunteered.

Emily stared at the picture again and felt a sense of foreboding, which was strange because she usually did not sense things like that.

But there was something about the picture that drew her in. It was another black-and-white photograph of the old mansion, which seemed to her to have a dark past. Emily could not help but feel as if secrets were hiding behind the walls of the grand estate. She studied the picture, trying to decipher clues about the mansion’s history, but the image remained enigmatic.

“I appreciate you looking for me, Amori, and thinking of me when this house came open. It is enormous, and I cannot afford to spend money on anything. I am barely making it as it is financially. I have had it so hard since Luke and Isla passed, and it is a true struggle to make it. Are there some cheaper options available? Like a room for rent or something? I am only getting twenty hours at work right now. I just cannot afford the apartment anymore since our savings were used for the funeral expenses and bills. I need money for gas and food, and that is it.

She felt so low having to explain all of this to Amori. What must she think of her? She was at the bottom of the barrel, and there was no way out. Emily saw no light for her at the end of her tunnel.

“It is your only choice right now, I am afraid. Hastings House is vacant and needs care, and with the economy what it is, renting is not going to be easy for you right now. No one is leaving, and they are staying put. Hillary will let you stay for free if you agree to remain in the house and take care of it. Emily, I know that you have your reservations. But I think it could be a win-win situation—you get to live there for free, and Hillary was happy to hear you were willing to take care of their old mansion. She remembered you and heard about your tragedy of losing your husband and sweet Isla. She asked if you would keep the garden of roses and just do light housekeeping, and you are free to move about the house without any limitations. It is all open to you. Emily sighed and nodded her head. She did not have much choice: “I’ll do it.”

Amori smiled with relief and reached out to pat Emily’s hand. “Thank you, Em’s. You will not regret it, I promise. You can move in as soon as you want.”

Emily forced a smile. She could not shake the feeling that something was off about the mansion, but she could not put her finger on what it was. Nevertheless, she needed a place to stay, and if it meant taking care of an old, creepy house, so be it.

After Emily signed the contracts, she gathered her things; Amori hugged her goodbye and went out into the rain, clutching the old brass keys. She did not even open her umbrella. She did not care that she was getting drenched; Hastings House was her only choice. Emily got in her white Camaro and took a deep breath. Moving was a massive step for her, but she knew it was right. Emily could finally leave her depressing apartment behind and start a new chapter. She just hoped she could handle the responsibility of caring for such a grand old mansion.

As Emily looked at the photograph of Hastings House, she could not shake the feeling that something ominous was lurking behind those walls. She felt so very alone and so very hopeless as she drove away. “Fuck Luke. I do not know if I can do this.” There was no response, only silence.

Chapter 2

Emily left the real estate office, drove to the local Andy’s Hardware store, and bought a few large and small boxes, tape, bubble wrap, packing paper, scissors, and tools. Emily arrived back at her apartment and discovered that she was starving despite the stress that she felt in the pit of her stomach.

Emily tossed a frozen dinner of mac and cheese and fish sticks in the microwave and chased it down with a cold glass of sweet tea from the fridge. The rain had stopped, and she could hear the crickets singing a night symphony from her balcony. Emily opened the sliding door, and a gush of the cool breeze after the rain stirred the red tendrils of hair stuck to her face. It felt so good.

The night sky was velvet black and sprinkled with millions of sparkling stars. Emily grabbed her tea, went onto the balcony, and looked up into the sky. She continued looking up and saw a shooting star making a dazzling descent across the stars. She had no wish to make it at that point. Her desires had indeed come true, only to be cruelly ripped away. The worst part was that it was her fault. Emily was in her bubble of pain and misery.

Emily sipped her tea and leaned against the railing, staring into the darkness. The world seemed vast and infinite, yet she stood on the balcony, her eyes fixed on where the shooting star had disappeared, lost in thought. Emily knew she should not blame herself, but the guilt was overwhelming. Emily had made a costly mistake and was now paying the price.

As she stood there, lost in her thoughts, she heard a noise from inside her apartment. Her heart skipped a beat as she quickly turned around, her hand going to the pocket where she kept the small knife she always carried.

But it was just her cat, Mr. Nibbles, knocking over a vase on the coffee table. Emily sighed in relief and returned inside, closing the balcony door behind her.

Emily looked at the boxes she had bought earlier, and for a moment, Emily was tempted to start packing at once. But she knew she needed to eat something first. She opened the microwave and took out the now-hot meal of mac and cheese and fish sticks.

Tears filled her eyes at the memory of six months ago when life was so perfect and beautiful. She and Luke had been married for five years. Their daughter Isla was three, and Emily was due to deliver their son any day. Luke had started an IT company with his best friend from college, and it just looked like life could not get any better.

Emily woke up with an intense craving for ice cream around midnight all those months ago. She shuffled uncomfortably into the living room, where Luke worked on his laptop. Her wavy red hair was in a loose bun, and she wore one of Luke’s white T-shirts that was three sizes too big, even with her extended belly. Luke looked up when she walked in and smiled at that gorgeous, disarming smile of his that made her melt. He still had such an effect on her.

Emily sat on the couch next to Luke, snuggled up to him, and breathed in his scent. He smelled freshly brewed coffee and a hint of his favorite cologne, Paul Sebastian. She closed her eyes and sighed contentedly. “What are you working on?” she asked, trying to start a conversation.

“Just some last-minute client requests. Nothing too urgent,” Luke replied, stroking her hair gently. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m alright. Just a little restless,” Emily said, shifting her weight. “I can’t stop thinking about ice cream.”

Luke chuckled. “Well, we can’t have that now, can we? Let me see what I can do.” He got up from the couch and disappeared into the kitchen.

Emily smiled to herself. She loved how Luke always knew how to make her feel better. Luke returned quickly.

“No ice cream, my love, but I’ll make a run.” He said and leaned down to kiss her belly.

“You are keeping your mom up, son?” Emily giggled because the whiskers of Luke’s dark beard tickled her through the fabric. In response, their son kicked her against her stomach. They both laughed. Emily kissed the top of Luke’s head and then heard a small laugh coming from behind them. They turned and looked.

“Isla, you are supposed to be in bed, young lady,” Emily said in a low mock stern voice. She could not be mad at her. Emily held her arms to her, and Isla flew across the room into them. She grabbed Emily’s neck and tucked her little blond head into her shoulder. Luke’s brown eyes met Emily’s tenderly, and he rubbed Isla’s back slowly.

“Butter Pecan, huh?” he asked with a smirk. Emily smiled prettily. “Yes, please.”

Isla looked up and shouted. “Ice cream Daddy!” I want ice cream!” They all laughed that endearing family way, and Luke ruffled her curly blond hair. He picked up Isla and held her against his chest. Luke whispered something in her ear, and she nodded enthusiastically. He stood with her and looked down at his beautiful wife, glowing with their unborn child. “I will take this little one and get her some Chocolate Chip Nutty Buddy cones. We will go to the Neighborhood Wal-Mart down the road. Be right back, babe.” he said. Luke grabbed his wallet off the hallway table, helped Isla put on her jacket and Crocs, and they left the apartment.

Emily wandered back into the bedroom and collapsed on the king-sized bed. She let the ceiling fan above the mattress blow over her and lifted the T-shirt, exposing her bare, swollen belly. The soft whirring motion of the fan above her lulled her to sleep. She would sleep until they got back with the ice cream.

Emily thought only a few minutes had passed when she heard a loud knock on the front door. She was disoriented and stumbled down the hallway to the front entrance. Why was Luke knocking? Did he lose his keys? Emily did not bother to look through the peephole in the steel door. She unlocked it and opened it up. Her blue eyes widened in her heart-shaped face, and the blue lights from the squad car reflected against her white Camaro parked in the driveway.

“Mrs. Buchanan? “The female police officer questioned softly. Her partner, a young guy in his early twenties, stood beside her. Emily nodded her head as if in a dream state.

“I’m sorry to tell you this, but…… there was an accident about an hour and a half ago….,” She trailed off when she saw Emily’s eyes fill with tears.

Emily smiled softly.

“No… you are mistaken. Luke and Isla are fine. They went to get me some ice cream at the store.” She finished as she saw the officers shake their heads.

The man spoke up when he saw she was far along in her pregnancy. “Ma’am, maybe you would like to step inside where it is cooler?” he suggested kindly.

Emily braced her hands against his chest and pushed him away roughly. He stumbled back, almost falling off the side of the steps.

“No,” she whispered, shivering from the shock her body was entering.

She knew. They did not have to tell her. Luke and Isla were dead. She could feel it in every fiber of her being. They did not make it. She turned away from them and walked down the steps and onto the driveway. Emily was barefoot, and her heart pounded violently. She peered down the road…hoping at any moment that Luke’s black Chevy Silverado would come around the curve with its loud v-8 engine roaring. She would smile, walk to the truck’s passenger side, and open it. Emily would unbuckle Isla’s seat belt and pick her up, and they would walk into the house, have ice cream, and go to sleep afterward, and everything would be okay. But there was no truck.

Emily continued staring, and the female police officer touched her on the shoulder. Emily turned quickly and looked at her pleadingly, but the officer’s expression did not change. Emily let out the loudest, gut-wrenching sob that they had ever heard. The sky opened, and icy shards of the coldest hard rain began to pour down, drenching her and the officers. She sank to the pavement on her bare knees and collapsed on the stone pavers. The officers ran to her side, dispatching the paramedics, and she grabbed her stomach in a blinding pain that made her gasp for air. Emily screamed angrily into the night. She was going into early labor. She still had a few months to go. It was too early to have her son. Her belly seized her, and she cried out, clutching the young male officer’s hand. He held it as she opened her legs and began to push. She cried. She screamed. Neighbors looked on silently and sadly at the scene, knowing something terrible had happened to the young mother.

In the middle of the thunderstorm, Emily gave birth to her stillborn son. The paramedics took her to the hospital in the ambulance, and when she arrived, and they were taking her out of the back of the transport vehicle, she heard that it was a drunk driver in an 18-wheeler truck that had hit them head-on coming back from the store. Luke hit a guardrail and went over the embankment. Luke and Isla were killed instantly.

The stress of the accident had caused Emily’s body to go into early labor and brought on a premature delivery of her baby boy. Emily wept as she accepted this reality. There would be no Luke and no Isla and no baby boy. They were gone forever. Emily lost her family in the space of two hours. Emily wanted to die. It was all her fault.

Luke, Isla, and their son, whom she named Nathan Luke… were buried side by side in the family plot at Edward’s cemetery. Luke’s parents flew back from their trip to Paris and helped Emily with the funeral expenses and getting all of Luke’s documents in order. They were devastated as they stood by the graveside on a beautiful, clear, and warm day and watched their caskets lowered into the soft ground. Luke was well-loved, and many attended the services to pay their respects. After the funeral, Emily asked her-in-laws to take her home, and she hid in the bedroom as mourners brought boxes of food and reminisced about old times. She could hear laughter and crying at the same time, and she buried her head under several pillows and tried to drown the sounds out, but to no avail.

***

Emily pressed her head back against the chair she was sitting in and took another sip of her tea. Even though it had been six months, she could still feel the baby. She could feel its ghost movements against her belly, and she cradled her flat tummy and sighed. “I’m so sorry, Nate.” She told her phantom child that she only wanted her family back and she could not have it. There was no way to get those moments before, and Emily realized that even her wildest wishes could not make her family return.

Emily wiped her eyes with the tail of her yellow T-shirt and entered her bedroom. She grabbed a black suitcase tucked casually in the back of her closet. She unzipped it, retrieved a framed photograph of her family on the beach in Hilton Head last year, and placed it inside the bag. She zipped it up tight and tugged it close to her chest. She would take it to Hastings House, put it in a particular spot, and always keep it close.

***

The following day, Emily smiled through her sorrow as she looked around the apartment one last time. She lightly chuckled as she remembered she and Luke making love, christening every room when they first moved in. Emily remembered bringing Isla home from the hospital, a tiny bundle of joy in pink blankets and placing her in her crib, and she and Luke looking down in wonder at the perfect little life they had created together. She peered in the bathroom where she had taken a pregnancy test and left the positive stick on the counter for Luke to find—so many beautiful memories.

The streets were silent and empty that following day. Emily loaded up the boxes and started her car. She drove away from her old life, holding the keys to the new, and went towards Hastings House, where a new journey awaited her. Emily cried again over Luke and Isla.

The rain had started again, matching her mood as she drove through the dreary and cold storm.

Chapter 3

For Emily, it took about 30 minutes to arrive at Hastings. The mansion was in the Low Country of South Carolina. When she arrived at the massive gates, she looked up in awe. She slowly drove through them and up the curving driveway until the gray facade of the mansion came into view. She pulled up to the old mansion, surrounded by tall Weeping Willow trees that swayed slowly with the summer wind. “Oh my God!” she said in shock. She took a deep breath where she parked her car and turned off her engine. Emily sighed heavily and released her seatbelt. She stepped out of the vehicle and, standing in the light rain, she smiled up at the sizeable looming structure of Hastings House, and Emily felt that sense of dread again. She grabbed her bags and suitcase and slowly made her way up the pavers to the door. The house’s exterior walls were old and faded grey brick adorned in climbing green Ivy, and the windows were shrouded in thin spider webs. She took the large Brass key and clutched it tightly.

Emily had to brace herself as she opened the large double oak doors and stumbled into the darkened hall of Hastings House. The cold welcome chilled her to the bone, and she half expected a ghost or two to try and scare her off, but nothing happened. “You don’t believe in ghosts, Ems.” she reminded herself. The air was cold and damp, and the smell of age wafted. Emily felt uneasy as if someone were watching her. She took a deep breath and steeled herself as she stepped further into the massive foyer. Emily looked up in wonder at the crystal chandelier above her. She thought that if it were to fall, she would be dead. Emily stepped deeper inside the first floor and looked around the grand living room with large, draped windows and an intricate rug that looked like it belonged in a palace. The second floor was bright, with light from the large windows shining down on the marble floor. Emily could see a grand piano to her left and a hallway with doors lined up leading somewhere. As she ventured further into the dimly lit rooms, she got an overwhelming sense of presence, as if someone were walking with her. Emily dismissed it. She picked up her suitcase and took a few steps further into the room on the left. A gust of chilly wind blew through the open hallway, making her shiver. She quickly shut the door, and the breeze dissipated.

Emily laughed nervously. She gasped and looked around at the tall ceilings and the intricate moldings on the walls. Emily was surprised by the beauty and elegance of the room she was standing in. Although time had taken its toll, the room still had a sense of grandeur. This feeling of not being alone heightened as she stumbled into an extensive library and saw a figure standing in the far corner dressed in white, facing the wall. Emily screamed in fear and fright as she saw the figure move towards her, walking backward, and she scrambled back. Emily dropped her bag, and her heart pounded quickly. Emily placed her hand over her heart to slow it down. The figure spoke, and Emily felt relief when she heard a familiar voice.

Amori, the real estate agent, stepped out from the shadows. “I see you have arrived,” Amori said with a small smile. Emily cried out. “Amori! You scared the shit out of me!” she yelled, but her face was relieved. Amori chuckled. “I certainly was not going to let you come out here and walk through the house alone.” she drawled in her southern accent that could melt frozen butter. Emily breathed deeply, and together, she and Amori ventured through the mansion, amazed at its beauty even though it was so old. However, darkness still pervaded the place, and Emily felt a chill run down her spine as she and Amori climbed the wide Bifurcated Staircase.

The creaking of the stairs and reverberations of their footsteps echoed around them, and Emily could feel a strong presence increasing the further they climbed. The wood railing was smooth beneath her palms. Amori looked pretty in a long white flowing dress with her blond hair pulled back in a half up half down style with tendrils framing her face. She looked back at Emily and smiled.

“So, this mansion was built in the 1850s, and is it not just like stepping back in time?” she gushed excitedly. Emily saw the haunting family portraits that had been hung on the walls gracing both sides of the grand double staircase, and it seemed as if their eyes followed her. She shivered and hurried up the stairs to catch up to Amori. Emily agreed with a nod of her head. “Yes, it is for sure.” They arrived at the top of the second floor, then turned around and looked back down. They had climbed a lot of stairs. Emily placed her hand on the wooden rail in front of her and had a flash of something so horrific that she stumbled backward. She backed into a large potted plant and almost knocked it over. Amori knelt in front of her with great concern on her face. She grabbed her hand. “Are you ok?” Amori asked, concerned.

Emily closed her eyes to erase the image that she had seen. She never wanted to see that again. Not ever. A woman or girl stood where she stood and then placed her hands around the railing, hauling herself over the bar and falling. What in the hell? Why had she seen that? It was as if the person wanted to jump. The creepiest part of all? She was smiling as she was doing it.

Emily took a few deep breaths and tried to steady herself. She looked down at her hand, which was still trembling. “I don’t know what just happened,” she said, her voice shaking. “I had this sudden feeling, like something terrible happened here.”

Amori looked at her with a mix of curiosity and concern. “What kind of feeling?” she asked.

“It was like a flash,” Emily said, trying to find the right words to describe what she had experienced. “Like…like a memory, but not my own. It was like I was seeing through someone else’s eyes.”

Amori’s eyes widened. “That’s…unsettling Em’s,” she said.

Emily nodded, still feeling shaky. “Yeah. I do not know what it was, but I do not think I want to stay up here any longer.”

Amori stood up and brushed off her knees. “Alright. Let us head back downstairs.”

Emily could not block out the face with an unholy visage as they descended the staircase. It scared her.

“Are you ok?” she asked again.

Emily sighed. “Yes. I am just so tired and did not get enough sleep last night. The mind was playing tricks.” she said softly.

Amori smiled again and chuckled nervously.

“What did you see, Ems?” Emily questioned curiously.

Emily shook the image away. She did not want to resurrect it again.

“It does not matter. Let us continue the tour, shall we?” She dismissed the subject, and Amori said nothing else.

They continued to traverse the mansion inside and out, and for a moment, Emily had forgotten about the vision she had seen at the top of the stairs. She started to adjust to the atmosphere of the mysterious old mansion and was beginning to enjoy the thought of living in a beautiful place such as this. She certainly felt that the mystery of Hastings House was slowly beginning to intrigue her increasingly. Why would it not be sold to another family to enjoy it in the future? Why let it just sit empty? Why?

After hours of walking and talking, Emily and Amori finally returned to the house. She had enjoyed touring the grounds and the gardens. The flowers were well kept; someone still cared for them because the roses were stunning, and the beds had no weeds Emily could see. Amori said she would find out who the groundskeeper was and get back to her when she found out. They toured the large kitchen with marble counters, white cabinets, and a black and white checked floor. The kitchen was accented with touches of red and had a very French Country vibe. Red curtains hung from the smaller window above the sink, and longer drapes of the same color swept the floors gracefully in the eat-in area of the same space. Emily loved to cook and fell in love with the chef’s stove and massive stainless-steel refrigerator. She could make some great meals here. She could only imagine the beautiful meals the cooks made in this kitchen over the decades.

Amori sighed.

“Girl. I am pooped! This place is massive and just gorgeous!” Amori exclaimed. “I am going to head on out, but you are sure you don’t want one of the many suites upstairs?” she asked incredulously. “I mean. There are fourteen bedrooms up there, and the only one that appeals to you is the maid’s quarters off from the kitchen?” she questioned like Emily was strange.

Emily leaned against the massive island and folded her arms.

“I like it.” She spoke. “It has personality and color, and I felt very homey there, which suits me just fine.” She finished.

It was by accident that Emily found the room. She looked back toward the house from the garden, saw the room built off from the kitchen, and saw the cheery daffodil yellow curtains adorning the large bay window. Emily looked at it and returned to the house, leaving Amori in the garden. She walked through the kitchen door, wandered down a small, tiled hallway, and found a closed door with a delightful stained-glass pane in the middle of the wood door. Emily placed her hand on the brass knob and turned, but it would not budge. Amori had returned inside by that point and looked hard at Emily.

“What are you doing?” she asked loudly.

Emily looked behind her to see where Amori was standing.

“I saw this room from the garden, and I want to see what is in here,” she explained.

Amori shook her head.

“Have you tried the master key?”

Emily sighed. “Yeah…. but it will not open it,” she said, frustrated.

Amori returned to the kitchen, picked up the manila envelope with the contract, and reached down to the bottom, and her fingers closed around a set of keys. To what they went to? She did not know, but it was worth a try, right?

She walked back down the hallway and handed the keychain to Emily.

Emily took the keys and smiled. She tried the first one, but it did not fit. Emily pushed the second key in, but it was the same; then she tried the third key, and it opened with a satisfying click.

She opened the door and beamed as she stepped inside. The room was tiny compared to the others, but the colors were impressive. Vibrant yellow adorned the walls, while a laminate floor in a lively hue lit up the space. Someone had dressed the large white iron bed in cobalt, patterned pillows, and a fluffy white bedspread and comforter. Emily opened her arms and declared, “I think this is it!” Amori looked around in approval. “It’s certainly you, Ems.” Emily could agree; she admired the small gas fireplace in the right corner and the adjoining full-sized bathroom with an inviting soaking tub. She was also pleased to find a cozy area with a TV and entertainment center for relaxing.

“Em’s!” Amori exclaimed.

Emily followed her voice and then saw a separate smaller area off from the bathroom with a nice-sized armoire built in and shelves for things.

“I will sleep in here for sure.” She told Amori.

Amori looked at her watch, and her eyes widened.

“Oh goodness. I have been here for hours.”

Emily stepped out of her house and stood in the round driveway. As the sun set, so did its light; the green rolling hills slowly transitioned into a deep purplish hue.

Amori opened the door on the shiny black Lincoln Navigator and got in, shutting the door behind her. She looked ahead of Emily and saw the lights on in the house. They had located the breaker box, and the place flooded with light. She was worried about Emily, but she would not tell her that. She was worn out and exhausted, and her ankles had swollen slightly from all the standing and walking through the house and the grounds. This house would give her a lovely commission if only she could talk the owner into selling it, but that would not happen.

“Call me if you need me, ok?” Amori said.

Emily smiled and wrapped her arms around her to ward off the night chill. She was nervous about her first night, there was no doubt, but she was going to fix some food that she brought in her cooler, have a soda, and go to bed in her cozy little space. It felt like a cottage space to her.

“I will be fine, Amori. Thank you for spending the day with me.” She was grateful for it.

Emily watched Amori drive away and continued looking until the SUV disappeared around the bend in the road. She was alone. Emily felt a chill creep down her spine and turned to the house. You know when you sense someone watching you. You just feel it, and Emily thought it now. She slowly approached the house and walked up the front steps. Emily opened the door and walked inside the brightly lit foyer. She closed and locked the large doors behind her, and she walked faster as she made her way to the kitchen to make a sandwich. The past owners updated the kitchen. Recessed lighting was in the ceiling and over the counters. Emily grabbed her green cooler off the counter and opened it. She opened the bag of ham and rolled it up, eating a few pieces of it, and then popped open a can of coke and drank it in almost one gulp.

Nine o’clock had arrived, and Emily was finally ready to turn in for the night. Exhaustion had taken over her body, but she still needed to check that the house was secure before she could crash.

Emily left the open kitchen and went down the hall to the front of the house again. She turned off the light switch on the wall by the doors and turned on the alarm as Amori had instructed. The little green light popped on, and an automated voice said, “All areas secure.”

Emily drew a sense of security from the sound of the voice, even if its purpose was only to inform her. She glanced up at the curved staircase and spotted the large, eerie family portraits hanging on the wall, then settled her gaze on the railing, where she had seen a vision of the apparition earlier in the day. But nothing happened. Emily exhaled with relief and averted her eyes.

There was nothing wrong with this house, and she did not believe in that shit anyway. It was just her mind playing tricks on her. Pleased with her self-reassurance, Emily spotted the long hallway lit up on the second floor and sighed. It was time for her to retire to bed.

Emily returned to her room, glancing at the weather app on her phone as she walked. When she entered, Emily smiled at the cheerful colors in the room and the sweet smell of freshly laundered linens. She changed into her lavender nightgown and settled in bed, feeling safe and secure beneath the covers. Emily would never even consider sleeping upstairs in one of those large suites. As a sense of warmth overcame her, her exhaustion slowly made her relax, and her limbs grew heavy. But then, just as she closed her eyes, Emily heard a faint whisper – so soft that it could have been all in her head. Fearing she would open her eyes to find someone standing there, Emily curled up tighter under the comforter and eventually fell into a deep sleep.

The moonlit night flooded the room, giving Emily’s slumbering body a silvery glow. A girl with coal-black eyes and a mouth gaping open in a horrific smile glared at her from the shadows, hatred radiating from her being. In a split second, she was gone.

Chapter 4

Emily woke up early the following day to birds singing outside her window. She saw the first signs of dawn coming through the bay window, pulled the comforter closer to her chin, and closed her eyes tightly, waiting for the pain to surface again as it did every morning.

Each morning, I started the same for Emily. She awoke with a blank mind, but gradually, it all flooded back to her like a broken dam in her subconscious. Her memories and emotions hit her like a battering ram of sorrow, pain, and longing that was fresh and new every time, unrelenting in its attack on her psyche.

She threw back the covers from her body and exited the bed. Her feet landed on the floor, and she shivered. It was so cold in the room. She longed for nothing more than a hot shower. She went to the bathroom, looked at her reflection in the mirror above the sink, and noticed the prominent black shadows under her eyes and the weary look of sorrow on her face. She was only 25 but looked 35 with what life had delivered. She leaned over and turned on the shower and felt the stinging hot spray turn much more comfortable after some adjusting of the handle.

Emily stripped out of her clothes, got a towel out of her bag and some fresh clothes out of her suitcase, and piled her red hair on top of her head in a loose knot. She entered the large, spacious, tiled shower and let the water sluice down her slender body to the shower floor. She grabbed a bar of sweet-smelling soap from the tray in the shower, lathered her body, and then rinsed it off.

Once her morning ritual was complete, she dressed in fitted jeans and a white V-neck t-shirt that hugged her tiny waist and slipped into a pair of white canvas tennis shoes. It was time to start her first day.

Emily opened the door to her room and stepped out into the chilly hallway off from the kitchen. The morning sunlight lit up the kitchen, casting a soft glow on the copper fixtures and white marble counters, and she could see the gardens and hills beyond through the window above the large farmers’ copper sink. The southern sky was beautiful in muted shades of peach, yellow, and turquoise blue.

An intense need for coffee hit her, and Emily looked around for a coffee maker but did not find one. Damn, she thought to herself. I need that. She would have to make a trip to the store and pick up a few things to survive here, and a coffee pot would be at the very top of that list and some food, she thought as she scanned the inside of the massive stainless-steel fridge and many cabinets. They were both bare. Yep! A trip to the store was most definitely in order.

Emily made a concise list on her phone of things to pick up, and then she went to the front of the house and opened all the doors downstairs to air out the spaces and let some freshness in. She gazed at the large rooms, like the library, sitting room, and massive office, and could not help but be amazed by their immense beauty.

Emily walked out of the library and looked up the steps. Her eyes wandered to the railing again, but there was nothing there, only a stream of sunlight caressing the wood. Emily, you are so silly. She chuckled to herself and walked up the steps to the second floor. The landing was beautiful, with large oriental rugs covering the well-polished wood floors. The head of the household liked clocks in the past because they were everywhere, and as the clock struck 8 o’clock, they all began to chime. There had to have been at least 30 chiming clocks. Emily shook her head and turned to walk down the hallway to open the doors to the suites. The sun lit the hallway to the left from the large windows facing the front of the home from the east. She turned to the right hallway; it was dark, and not one ounce of sunlight lit up the dark corridor.

Emily decided to go ahead and let those rooms air out first. Get the creepy part out of the way. She turned the flashlight on her phone and pointed it down the hallway. She went to the first large door and opened it up. The inside of the room was bright and sunny, and the décor was a light spring green. It was lovely with a high canopied bed, green rugs, and touches of green and yellow everywhere her eyes landed—the bedding, the drapes, etc.

One room down, she whispered to herself.

Emily explored a pink room, a blue one, a yellow one, and a red one that was too much. Then, there was the white space before she reached the last chamber. It was only accessible through three steps of stairs. When she went to open it, however, the door would not budge - Someone had locked it from the inside.

How strange!

Emily dismissed it for a moment. She would have to get in there eventually, though. Emily turned to walk away and heard what sounded like a slight knock on the door from the inside. She turned back quickly, grabbed the knob, and turned, but it would not.

Emily stepped back and glanced over her shoulder. The sight of the door made her sick, as it had the previous day. She felt weak and on the verge of throwing up. Even though there was no lock on the door, it would not budge. It would have taken a lot of effort to open, more than Emily had to spare. As she moved away from the door, the nausea started to subside. It was completely gone when she reached the middle of the landing. The bedrooms had light streaming in from their windows but not from the door at the end of the hallway. All that came from there was an oppressive force that frightened Emily.

Emily toed it back downstairs quickly. Once in the foyer, she heard the clock strike 9 o’clock, and the chime of the bells echoed loudly throughout the house. Emily grabbed her wallet and keys and left the house. She got in her car and drove away. Emily needed some distance. She glanced through the rearview mirror, and the place looked so still and lifeless. The Weeping Willow trees surrounding the mansion even seemed to sag with sadness. The house was not still and quiet, though. Something was wrong, and Emily knew it all surfaced from that dark room at the end of the hallway. The door would not open. Someone did not want that door to open, and they fixed it so it would never open again.

Chapter 5

Driving away from Hasting’s House, Emily felt a sense of relief. She had only been there two days, and though she had hoped for an improvement in her mood, it had not happened yet. With more time, it would. As she drove along the winding country road, she noticed a pretty store at the side of the highway—Gordan’s Country Market—so Emily pulled into its overflowing parking lot and went inside. A tantalizing aroma of freshly cut flowers surrounded her as soon as she stepped through the open doors. There were buckets full of colorful blossoms resting on the windowsills. Taking a basket in hand, Emily chose some red carnations and white and yellow daisies to brighten up her room decor, even though Hastings House had its own garden that she had yet to explore. Flowers always cheered Emily up, and these would be no different.

Emily entered the bustling store that looked like it had been there since the 1930s or 1940s. The building was charming, covered in white aluminum siding and large windows with bright red shutters. A couple of older adults sitting on the benches outside sent her a warm smile when she passed them. She recognized their faces – they reminded her of her grandparents, whom she had not seen for an extended period. Soft country music played from the speakers at the front. Emily noticed a sign above the blue Formica counter reading, “Fresh fudge and cookies ready to devour!” she followed her nose toward the candy section. Sample cups of blond fudge and chocolate chip cookies, lined up in rows, were calling out her name. Emily could not resist taking a bite out of one. The sweet butter and cocoa melted in her mouth, making her eyes roll in pleasure.

“Pretty good, huh?” a female voice behind her said.

Emily turned and saw a pretty young woman with the reddest hair she had ever seen and tons of freckles all over her face and arms. She was lovely, and her green eyes flashed with warmth and kindness. She was Merida from the Disney Movie Brave brought to life!

Emily smiled back. “Yes, it is perfect!”

The young woman stepped out from behind a stack of boxes filled with chips and other snacks in the center of the store.

She had the most genuine smile and held a box cutter in one hand and a box cut down in the other.

“We are running a special buy one, get one for free deal!” she said enthusiastically.

Emily smiled.

“Well then, I will take advantage of that deal.”

Clarrisa walked over to her and patted her on the right shoulder.

“Hang right there.” She said in a sweet southern accent and put down the box and cutter.

She went behind the counter and grabbed two boxes. Clarrisa stood before a glass cabinet displaying the sweets and slid the door back to access the cookies and fudge.

“What is your poison? We have blond fudge, Maple walnut fudge, and my personal favorite, California Walnut fudge. For cookies, we have Chocolate chips, sugar, and.” She leaned back in the cabinet and pulled out a tray. “And my mom’s famous Peanut Butter cookies.”

It all sounded so good to Emily, but she chose a box of blond Fudge and Peanut Butter Cookies.

“I’ll wrap these up for you.” Clarrisa offered.

Emily stood and watched her work.

Clarrisa carefully placed the fudge and cookies in boxes and then sealed them with some tape.

She looked up and handed the boxes to Emily.

She wiped her hands on a red gingham apron tied around her slender waist, and Emily noticed her bright red tennis shoes. Red must be her favorite color, she ascertained.

She stepped back around the counter.

“Is there anything else that I can help you with?’

Emily felt her friendliness radiating from her, and so she responded with.

“I know this is probably impossible… but do you have a coffee pot?”

Clarrisa chuckled.

“Aren’t the ones in the hotels pathetic … so tiny, and they do not even have a good selection of coffee?” She finished.

Emily smiled.

“I am not staying at a hotel. I need one for the place I am currently staying at,” she said.

“No. I am staying at the Hastings House.” She volunteered.

Clarrisa’s eyes widened with shock.

“No way! Seriously?”

She could not have been more than nineteen or twenty.

She had not had a hard life. At least not yet.

“Stop it, Emily. Don’t think that about that young woman. Just because your life is crap, doesn’t mean that hers is.”

Emily responded.

“Yes. I moved in just yesterday.”

Clarrisa grabbed her softly around the elbow and linked her right arm with her left arm.

“You come with me.” She looked at Emily as if wanting to know her name, and Emily recognized that, so she told her name.

“Emily Buchanan.” She spoke.

Clarissa smiled brightly.

“Well, it is nice to meet you, Emily Buchanan. I think we can find something in the retail section. Mama has everything like the big box stores.”

She led her down aisles of canned goods, meats, produce fruits, and vegetables. And then they turned down another corridor and came to a set of double doors that opened electronically.

This part of the store had a boutique atmosphere. Down the aisles, an array of decorations, appliances, and jewelry was on display. Clothes hung attractively from racks. A worker had Toys, bedding, and colorful pillows piled up on a daybed in the corner to catch a customer’s attention.

“Right back here, Emily,” Clarrisa said, and Emily followed her.

The aisle was tight and confined, but Emily could see a coffee pot for sale at the end of the row—a Mr. Coffee machine.

Clarrisa lifted on her tiptoes and pulled the box down. She handed it to Emily, and Emily deposited it in her cart.

“Thank you, Clarrisa.”

She nodded.

“Of course!”

Clarrisa walked with her back down the aisle. They walked down the aisle single file because there was little room.

“So, how do you like that house?’ Clarrisa asked. Softly. Emily thought for a moment about how to answer that.

“It is huge. Creepy. But lovely, just creepy.” Clarrisa looked up as if she heard something that she was not supposed to.

“Creepy, how?” Emily thought about revealing the truth, but she discounted it. She did not want any pity. She just wanted to do her job and possibly make a new life.

“Oh, you know. It is old, empty, and big. It just makes me feel.” Emily paused. “Unnerved at times. I have been there for only two days, and already I feel uneasy with how large it is, like I could get lost and never find my way back.”

Clarrisa nodded. She seemed to understand. They rounded the corner to the checkout lane.”Be careful there.” For some strange reason, Clarrisa said that as if she knew something she was not telling.

Emily smiled. “Of course. I always am.”

“I bought some flowers to spruce up the mantles, and now that I have a coffee pot, I can make it.”

Clarrisa gasped.

“Oh…do you like blueberries?” She exclaimed.

Emily liked this woman.

“I do,” she stated.

“Well….do I have the coffee for you then!”

She led her to the coffee aisle, located a bag of Blueberry coffee, and threw it in the cart.

“Annie’s Blueberry coffee is cheaper than some other brands, but the flavor is incredible!” she gushed.

“I see the lines are getting longer, and Mama will be on the intercom calling me a few, and I hate that,” she said, rolling her green eyes dramatically.

Once they arrived back at the front of the store, Emily and Clarrisa went their separate ways, but first, Clarrisa grabbed her hand.

“Hastings has a fascinating history. You should read up on it.”

Emily tucked the information away in her brain and kept shopping, eventually deciding on a steak, a potato, two jugs of sweet tea, canned vegetables, red apples and navel oranges, bread, slices of ham and turkey, some mayonnaise, tomatoes, and coffee filters. Content with her haul, she made her way to the checkout line.

The lines were long, and Emily picked up a US Weekly magazine from the rack beside her and flipped through it while she waited. Finally, it was her turn.

“Well, Hello again!”

It was Clarrisa.

She started swiping the items as Emily loaded them onto the belt.

“So, you have heard that Hastings is haunted, right?” she asked as she keyed in the code on the apples.

Emily looked at her as she dug into the back pocket of her fitted jeans and pulled her small brown wallet out to get her debit card.

“I have heard that for years, but I don’t believe in all that,”

Clarrisa told her about the total amount for her groceries, and Emily paid.

“When I was in high school, we had to do a book report on our town, and I chose the Hastings House because we used to go out there and do-little rituals and rites of passage stuff as young teens on Halloween night.” Clarissa winked at her teasingly and stuck the tip of her tongue out. Emily was sure there was some mischief with that abundance of red hair.

Emily laughed and watched Clarrisa bag her groceries. “I just thought you should know. Many people swear that the house and grounds are haunted, and it was super creepy at night when I was there. That night was super-duper creepy because Mrs. Hastings had just passed.” Clarrisa winked as she handed Emily the two bags of groceries.

“It was nice to meet you, Clarrisa.”

Clarrisa waved as Emily walked past her.

“Same here! Have a wonderful day, and come again!” she yelled after her.

Emily smiled as she exited the store with her groceries and her little garden of flowers. Clarrisa had heard stories about the house, but Emily did not want to hear about it. She was going to investigate its history at some point. She just was not sure when. She had to live there for now, so she would blank out anything she heard from others.

After she had collected all her groceries, Emily loaded them into her Camaro and drove home. Then it hit her—she had forgotten the milk! Cookies without milk were no fun, so she pulled over in a mart and got a gallon of the stuff before continuing to the house. As she pulled up to the driveway at around eleven o’clock, something caught her eye—a foreign car she did not recognize parked under the weeping willow tree that lined the circular drive. Her heart raced as she noticed it was an old black Honda; why was someone here? She did not know anyone who drove a car like that.

With careful precision, Emily guided her car up the long driveway and parked it next to the other vehicle. She Stepped out of her car and lifted the two bags of groceries from the back seat. She placed them on the hood of her car and pulled out her purse and keys; then, she walked up the steps to the porch. Emily unlocked the front door and walked into the quiet mansion. She entered the kitchen and placed her bags of groceries on the counter. She walked over to the kitchen sink, looked out the large bay window framed with red curtains, and saw a young woman and a small girl walking in the flower garden. They did not appear to be causing any harm, so she went ahead and did a few things. Emily unpacked her groceries in the stately kitchen and set up her new coffee pot on the counter by the stove. She made a pot of Blueberry coffee that smelled fantastic and had a peanut butter cookie with it, and then she placed her flowers in some vases that she found under the kitchen cabinet beneath the sink and filled them with water. She would put them in her bedroom later.

She washed her hands and sighed. It was time to meet her visitors. Emily’s curiosity was piqued.

***

When Emily opened the back door that led outside, she was greeted by an abrupt rush of humid air. It was so oppressive and damp in the low country, making Emily feel like she needed to jump back inside for another shower. She shuffled across the thick grass to the garden.

The woman was texting on her phone, and the small girl was bending down, picking roses, and playing with a little golden puppy by swatting a bright red rose back and forth across the pup’s face and making it sneeze.

Their backs were to Emily. She unlatched a white wooden gate with a trestle of red and hot pink climbing roses above her head and softly approached them. Her footsteps were silent.

“Hello. “Emily said softly.

The woman jumped, as did the girl, and dropped her cell phone into the flower bed of daffodils.

“Oh Shit! the woman exclaimed. “You scared the hell out of me,�� she said, laughing nervously and holding her hand to her stomach.

Emily held her hand up in a truce position.

“I’m sorry. I did not mean to scare you. I just wanted to come and introduce myself. I am Emily Buchanan. I’m the housekeeper here.”

The woman was pretty with short, deep brown hair cut in a pixie, warm brown eyes framed by long dark lashes, and she was close to six feet. She looked in her mid-thirties and had an olive complexion showing off her high model-like cheekbones. She was slender and wore lavender nurse scrubs with a baby elephant print in cheerful yellow. She wore white tennis shoes with canary yellow shoestrings, a lanyard around her neck, and a name badge that said Cypress General. Emily would guess that she worked in the Neonatal unit.

The woman held her hand to her forehead and had an embarrassed look on her face.

“Oh, I am so sorry. I heard someone had accepted the job, but I wasn’t clear on who or when the new caretaker would arrive!” She gushed in a low country accent.

She smiled apologetically.

“I am Lainie Griffin, and this is my niece, Bella.” She said, pointing to the pretty girl playing with the adorable puppy. We live just down the road, a piece to your left. We have the horse farm Griffin Farms.” She told Emily.

Emily gasped.

“Oh wait! I saw your farm on the way to the store this morning. It was a white fence with beautiful horses in the pasture?”

Lainie nodded enthusiastically.

“Yep! That is the one.”

Emily sighed.

“I love horses.”

“So does my brother Davis. He raises and breeds Arabians.”

Emily found that so fascinating. She smiled.

Lainie shook her head in apology.

“I would have never just shown up like this if I knew someone had been living here. It’s been vacant for so long. At least two years since Mrs. Hastings passed away. I feel like I am trespassing!” She laughed nervously.

Emily shook her head.

“No, you are fine.” She assured her.

Lainie visibly relaxed in her face and her body.

Emily looked around her at the garden and surrounding property.

“You are familiar with this place?” She questioned softly.

Lainie laughed dryly.

“I should say so.” She spoke. “We may not be Hastings, but we are close enough with all of the relatives that have worked here through the years for the family!” she chuckled. “We have been heavily invested.”

Lainie strolled to a spot away from the little girl who was still plucking flowers, and Emily trailed her. She could tell that Lainie had something to share, but she wanted to be sure they weren’t close enough for the child to hear them.

Once they had stepped away, but she could keep an eye on the girl, Lainie spoke.

“My family has worked for the Hastings family for many years. My grandmother, mother, and sister were all housekeepers here.”

Lainie smiled.

“I broke the chain and became a nurse.” She spoke. “Thus, the kid scrubs!” She pointed to the elephant fabric and then continued.

“She is my niece, as I said. I am her sole guardian since her mom passed away a few years ago.” Lainie shared it with Emily.

Emily looked over at the child.

Her hair was the lightest shade of cotton blond and rolled down her back in gentle waves. Her skin was porcelain-white, giving her a delicate, otherworldly air. She had thought the child was shy due to their quietness, but now she could sense something else.

“Bella has selective mutism. She used to talk as much as any child, but she stopped when my sister died.”

Emily’s heart went out to the little girl.

Lainie walked over to a stone bench in the middle of the garden path and sat down with a heavy sigh.

“I bring Bella here when she gets agitated, which calms her. She will only communicate by writing. She has not spoken one word. It helps her to be where Tristan is and makes her feel calm and close to her.”

Emily’s blue eyes widened.

“Close to her? “Here?” She questioned.

Lanie nodded in response.

“Yes, Tristan served as Mrs. Hastings’ housekeeper, her loyal companion, and whatever else you might call it. She had been with Marjorie for five years, and they had a good relationship. One morning, my sister was vacuuming the stairs to the second floor when she fell backward.

Emily felt pure horror run through her body.

Lainie looked at her and nodded to affirm what Emily was thinking.

“Bella saw it all.”

“Oh, my…. God!” Emily gasped.

Lainie’s eyes watered up.

“Yes. It has been tough on us. Bella was already giving her mom a tough time when she came to work with her that summer. She had such an attachment to this place, and Mrs. Hastings liked her being here, but Tristan got tired of the tantrums, and they moved back in with my brother and me shortly before she died. Bella threw an ungodly fit, and Tristan would not even let her come back to work with her for a while, but then she eventually did, with Mrs. Hastings urging. It was going a lot better until the fall happened.”

Emily had experienced heartache and loss, so she could relate to Lainie’s situation. Bella rose from her seat and searched for her aunt. As soon as she spotted her, the little girl ran over with the pup scampering behind her. Emily looked into the palest blue eyes, without any color at all, that seemed to peer right into her soul. Bella did not return a smile. She simply stared.

Lainie pulled Bella to her side, and her voice was light.

“Bella, this is Emily, the new housekeeper here. Isn’t that cool?”

No response. Just the continued stare made Emily extremely uncomfortable under her scrutiny.

Bella pulled hard on Lainie’s hand, and Emily saw her reach into the back pocket of her scrub pants and pull out a small notebook and pencil. She handed it to Bella.

Bella grabbed it and began to write on the pad. She showed Lainie what she had written and then looked back at Emily with a look of hope in her eyes.

Lainie looked at Emily and turned the pad around to show her what Bella had written.

In big, bold letters, it read.

Have you seen my mommy?

She looked intently at Emily, and Emily shook her head in the negative. She did not know what to say. She looked to Lainie, and then she looked back at Bella.

Emily knelt on the grass before her, and her voice was kind.

“I have not seen her yet, but I have only been here a few days,” she said. “I know her name now, though, and if I see your mom, I will tell her now that you miss her.”

Lainie nodded approvingly, and deep appreciation was in her eyes.

“It looks like it is time to go, sweety,” Lainie said, and she tousled Bella’s golden locks. “I need to get you and Goldie back home, and I have a shift coming up soon.” With that, the trio began making their way out of the garden and toward the mansion.

Emily strolled with her companions, the little pup galloping after her sneakered feet. She stopped and bent down, giving the pup’s downy fur a good rubdown as it wagged its tail.

“She is so adorable.” The little puppy squirmed like a wiggle worm, and Emily released her.

“Y’all can come through the house if you like and not have to walk around this huge house.” Emily offered.

Lainie looked at her and down at Bella beside her, who was looking up at her with hope in her big blue eyes.

“I would prefer to walk around if you don’t mind,” she said, tapping her watch face.

“Steps!” she declared.

Emily laughed.

“I hear that!” She agreed.

But there was a guarded and haunted expression on Lainie’s face that Emily could not miss.

“Well, Y’all take care and come back whenever you want.”

Emily watched the car pull out of the drive, and it hit her hard in her gut. Bella reminded her of Isla so much. For a child that young to witness a parent’s death. It was so unspeakably horrible and tragic. That child would never be the same, having seen that.

Emily was so desperate to hold her daughter in her arms again. Her cheeks were wet with fresh tears as she gazed at the bright blue sky. She imagined being reunited with Luke, Isla, and her unborn son. It felt so cruel that Emily had been left behind. The bitterness in her heart mounted, and she swiped away the tears from her face with a quick, angry motion.

She would never heal from this loss.

Emily stepped into the house, into the chilly atmosphere of the entryway, and glanced up at the stairs. She recalled her vision. She had seen a young woman or a girl on that first day perched atop the wood banister who had glared down at her with those obsidian eyes and smiled emotionless before sheaving herself over the railing and plummeting to her demise. Emily shivered at the thought and quickly moved away from the area. She wanted to be somewhere else as soon as possible.

Emily hurried to her bedroom and retrieved a medium-sized red box with a handle, which she brought over to the leather sofa in the sitting area. It was a vintage record player Luke had given her on their second anniversary, which she treasured. Emily rummaged through her collection of classic albums and grabbed an old Frank Sinatra record out of her closet. Then, she took it and the record player to the kitchen and put them on the center island. Plugging it into the wall outlet, she felt relieved as ‘Old Blue Eyes’ crooned through the halls and up the stairways and hallways of her grand home.

Emily got so busy putting things away that afternoon that she did not notice the sun beginning to set, the house growing dark, and the shadows creeping in.

It was dusk at the old Hastings mansion.

Emily cooked a steak and potatoes for her dinner. Finding two white plates in the cupboard above the sink, she placed her food on it before hastily consuming it while standing at the kitchen island. Emily was so greedy that she did not even sit down to eat. Two glasses of sweet tea quenched her thirst, but she longingly wished for a nice glass of wine or a few beers to go with her meal - only to find there would be no such indulgence tonight.

After Emily finished her meal, she tidied up and stepped outside to see the sunset that painted the sky orange, with royal purple and turquoise aqua as accents. The sultry night air blew a promise of rain or a thunderstorm later. She returned to the garden and sat on the bench Lainie had occupied earlier. Emily swapped her tennis shoes for some flip-flops, which she removed to let her feet rest in the cool grass. With her head reclined, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the moment.

Emily felt so much better out there than she did in the house. She dreaded shutting down the house again for the night, especially knowing that Bella’s mom had died in that house. Emily prayed that she did not reencounter her or have that vision again because it shook her to the core.

She turned back to gaze at the massive structure, and a breeze stirred her messy bun. Her eyes grazed over the windows on the second floor but did not linger on them long. A shiver ran down her spine, causing her to wrap her arms around herself to shake off the feeling of being watched. Emily stared at the gauzy white curtains on the middle window in front of the staircase. It felt like someone was looking through those curtains at her. But how could that be true? She knew no one else was in the house with her, and she did not believe in ghosts anyway. They were not real; they were fantasies told by people who wanted to scare others.

#thriller #dark romance #mystery #horror paranormal #horror #suspense #the haunting of hastings house #Youtube

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liquidluckandstuff · 23 days

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"character ask game" for the one and only harry james potter: 6, 7 and 21!!

Character ask game

6. What's something you have in common with this character?

General cluelessness 😂 Things tend to happen right in front of my face and goes right over my head.

7. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?

Ok, I know its so cringe but i'll keep saying it. I am a sucker for the "emerald eyes" or "avada kedavra green eyes" like please please please bring it back. Why WOULDN't it be cool to have AK green eyes?

21. If you're a fic writer and have written for this character, what's your favorite thing to do when you're writing for this character? What's something you don't like?

Internal struggles. I love writing his morality vs what he really wants and the guilt that comes with choosing either. Its so fun.

I'm not sure if its i don't like writing it, but like.... time skips? And i mean filling in the gaps of time skips. Because i'm always second guessing myself. Like what if I want to go back and add something in? Now i've already moved on and have to do a flashback that might have made more sense if I actually wrote/thought about it in the moment.

#ask #thank you #Harry Potter

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mondaymelon · 2 months

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NAH WHAT TWO KARMAS????? BOTH TRYING TO ROMANCE YOU????? girl (/gn) where are you getting all these wild dreams from HAHAHHLKSJHFLKDJH😭 ESPECIALLY WITH THE VTUBER ONE HAHAHAHLSKJFHSDLJKHF its ok. it was real in another universe. hashtag ayy you tingz (*cringes*)

OK WELL IM NOT THAAAAAAT INTO KPOP ANYM?? like i listen to itzy skz twice nwjns gidle lesserafim txt enhyphen viviz (gfriend) but im not super into them?? ykwim?? HAHAHA but anyway. chaeryeong hyunjin jeongyeon haerin soyeon eunchae eunha and i dont really have a bias for txt & enhyphen HAHAHA

uhm. i will not deign to expose myself💋 you can keep guessing :) && *shocked noises* xiao??!? and kaveh?!??!?! totally didnt expect that!!!!?! /silly HAHAHHA dori's just in it for the money she's got her priorities straight fr

omg. no i havent watched buddy daddies yet,, how's it👀 im going to watch apothecary diaries soon!! maybe!! yeah!! tell me how your silly time goes hehehehhehe

oh the asian parents n grades are so real...stay strong melon u can do it🫡 and also!! WOOHOOOO GOOD LUCK N HAVE FUNN!! as long as u enjoy what ur doing!! thats all that matters!!!

question. why was brek babing bot bis bere the example. LMFAO thats actually a really funny codespeak i'd start laughing and fail to finish my sentence kekw

and also no i dont read manhwa ueueue i dont even know what to start with AHHAHAHAKLJDFHLSD do u have recs 👀 hehehehe

SHHHH okok listen my delulu doesnt let me rest i swear ( no complaints but yk )

aaaa speaking of vtubers i am drawing my own model rn and as much as separating the layers is a royal pain in the ass ( BECAUSE IBISPAINT DOESNT FUCKING LET ME NAME THE LAYESR and honestly id rather use my phone than my tablet ) i know rigging will be even shittier. am so prepared to perish

OMG !! SCERAMSDFDS FHYUNJIN FAN!! tbh i only got into kpop a little recently and the only reason was cause i watched a single skz short. and then my entire fyp was INFECTED by "h EY SeunGmin YoURe LYiNG" LMAOOOO!!! all those groups are on top though !! E E. E E E. E E

waaah yukari thats no fair i told you mineeeee /nf

well uhm. the silly time. im. im dead and sick so.

RAAAH GOT FULL MARKS ON MY LATEST MATH THING SO >>>>>>> we ignore how i kinda did shit on the prev onesdjsifojdlkf ahahha i don't fucking know why i thought 7+3 was 11 OMG SOBS.

uh. there was like this pond with a shit ton of algae in it so i like turned to my brother and just blabbed that out. its the model sentence now.

manhwa reccs??? HMMMMM OKOK I READ A LOT BUT WHAT KINDA GENRES DO YOU LIKE>... like action or romance or transmigration ? ( giggles as i ready my list )

#💬 ⌗ ��𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭'𝐬 𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 . . . ✧#🌱 ⌗ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐞 ! ♡#🍀 ⌗ 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭: yukari !#asdjfiosjlf the way i completely forgot what we were talking about SOBS im SO SORRY #head in hands #its so joever

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