#cate's scribbles

[lab-gr0wn-lambs]

Send in the clowns

#this show has been very hit or miss for me lately but OUGH GOD I love this episode #Blitz and Fizz have such strong personalities they are an absolute JOY to watch #and their voice actors are phenomenal #helluva boss #helluva boss fanart #fizzarolli #fizzarolli fanart #blitzo #blitzo fanart #cate's scribbles #scribbles

[the-anxious-stargazer]

Like Honey || Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Summary: Although Sam have promised herself to not get too close to anyone outside her newfound family, she struggles when she meets a regular in the diner she worked at.

Words: 4.02k

Note: This is inspired from Halsey's song Honey! i'd recommend you guys listen to it while reading :) i'm slowly starting getting into horror bc i dont want to be a pussy no more and watch them for jenna and melissa (they are so hot omfg)

[Masterlist][Part 2]

・ ‥…━━━━━━━━━━♡♡♡━━━━━━━━━━…‥ ・

Sam promised herself that she'd focus on Tara and the gang first before learning to let new people in again in her life. That promise was made when they all moved to New York after the murders in Woodsboro. After Richie. A betrayal like that is a valid reason for her to be closed off and be suspicious of anyone her sister or her friends meet. The same could be said for Quinn, Ethan, Anika, and everyone else she had met when they were introduced to her. Sam did warm up to the three the longer they stayed. She felt a little more comfortable with them when her gut told her that maybe they were genuine people. But she still almost kept to herself. She almost didn't have any friends outside them other than Danny their neighbor next door.

Being the oldest and mother figure of the group meant she worked for her and Tara's share of rent and other needs. Even though their mother sends money for bills and such, Sam wanted to work still. Though she knew what she get weren't much it didn't hurt to start saving her own money. So she worked to keep herself busy but not too much to not acknowledge that she was suffering such a mental scar from the attacks. One of those jobs was in a diner a few blocks near them. It paid okay and the staff are kind but Sam rarely bothered to get too close to them. All she ever knew from them is that they were willing to offer a smile and small conversation.

Usually, she takes the morning shifts, other times she takes the graveyard ones. You can pretty much figure out which shift she preferred over the other.

The regulars were introduced to her on her first shift by Dale, the main cook. There was a couple, John and Amy, who was always on time in the morning and order eggs and toast only with two refills of drip. Rex is a sculptor who mostly sits in the corner and has a few sketches by the table with him, only ordering an omelet with ketchup. There's also a programmer named Adrian who gets a lot of coffee and a BLT at night. Sometimes his friend Ben joins in with fries. A young woman named Adelaide who works from home and is always on the phone while she ate her waffles and vanilla milkshake. Adelaide would go by the mornings if she wakes up early or comes by near the evening when she could.

Lastly, there was Y/N. Sam has figured before that she looked around the same age as her. Cate mentioned when she was teaching her around that she's been here way before her and she pretty much knew everyone in the diner. She was mostly in the morning with a few files in her hand. She's an assistant in an independent law firm. There were times that she came by night and read some of the files she had all the while taking a sip of her joe now and then, other moments she was taking notes for a case assignment that her boss told her to take a look for him. Sam always gets a warm greeting from her as she did with everyone else when she enters the diner and interacts with her whenever deemed necessary. She thought she was too nice to be true.

"You from New York?" Y/N asks her as Sam fills her mug and couldn't help but doubt for a second if she were going to be honest or not,

Y/N always had a keen eye. She liked watching everyone else and let the world work. That meant she liked observing the customers that enter the diner every now and then, noticing how John always drink his coffee slowly to match Amy's pace and always offers an extra toast to her. How Adelaide sometimes start scribbling on her tissues while she talked to her boyfriend who she assumed lived away from New York. The fidgeting Cate does when she's serving Rex and giggles a little when she talks to him. Y/N could see how tired Sam was even when she had just started her shift a few moments ago. The neatness of her diner clothes, layers of makeup, and fake smile couldn't mask the exhaustion the woman has felt for who knows how long. She didn't want to pry about anyone's story so she tries to offer what she only can to someone who deems her a stranger, kindness. It doesn't hurt to treat anyone fairly.

"No, not from around here. I'm just trying to start over." She answers half-heartedly, trying not to give away any information about her at all. Sam sees a gentle smile from her and she couldn't help but feel the burning sensation on her cheeks.

"I wish you well for that. Everyone deserves a restart." And with that, Y/N thanked her for refilling her.

Those were one of many encounters Sam had with her. There were times Y/N would order 2 cups of coffee for her to share with anyone on the staff and reluctantly Sam accepted her third request at the random times she offered. She was beyond suspicious. Her doubt was understandable given the fact that she went through a lot that broke her sense of trust in anyone. But her cautiousness was only met with a tender conversation. Y/N would always ask how she is and the first and ever personal information she has ever given to anyone outside her family was her. Sam vaguely talked about how Tara has been slowly losing interest in seeking help and acting like nothing happened. Of course, there are a few changes here and there to make it seem like a normal rant about her younger sister and Y/N listened intently to her.

Or maybe it was because she was too distracted by the beauty of the older Carpenter sister.

Those seeming doe eyes that hid too many secrets.

Another night shift has come and to Sam's discomfort, she had to be at work. She just came from therapy and her second doctor had just given up on her, making her night already more dreadful than it was. And just to top things off the students who have been visiting the diner lately have been making it their job to worsen her night by being obnoxious and gossiping over her. They weren't even trying to keep it down as if they were back in high school and Sam had just stolen the famous girl's ex-boyfriend. Tara had told her the rumors about her and Woodsboro before and she couldn't care less about what a stranger, who wasn't even there, would think. It was the breaking point when one of them spilled their milkshake on her "accidentally". The smug smile the girl wore before she did it was almost too easy to miss but little did they know that Y/N had been watching them silently the entire time. The woman's had enough of their disturbance. She had been gripping on her pen hard to almost split it in half.

"I'm so sorry, miss." The girl in white apologized with a snide tone. Her friends giggle at her antics on the now pink-stained light blue blouse Sam wore. It just happened to be a strawberry milkshake too. Just last week a girl threw her orange juice at her when she was on her way home with dinner. At this point she thought she's collecting all the fruit flavored drinks.

"D-Don't worry, I'll get it cleaned up." Sam begrudgingly states while avoiding her eyes before she went to turn around but stopped when she saw how she almost bumped into someone,

Familiar Chelsea boots stood before her.

"I beg to differ." They hear the person say before the woman realizes who it was.

"And who are you supposed to be? Her friend?" One of them asks cockily to which Y/N smiles at their confidence. She had her sleeves rolled up already, coat resting back in her booth and Dale was waiting for her cue to tag along after she signaled him from her table earlier.

"Didn't your parents ever teach you some manners on gossiping about people you don't know? Let alone the one serving you your meals and minding her damn business?" She had slowly paced past the unmoving Sam Carpenter that watched closely. Both hands rested on the side of their table and her anger was prevalent from the way she carried herself in the scene. 

"She's a lying snake and a murdering bitch!" The other one barked from her seat.

"Let me guess, you got that from Reddit? What else are you going to believe next, that Beyonce's part of the Illuminati?" Y/N mocked her statement and that's when Sam realized that she knew about the rumors surrounding her, that she knew some bit of her past.

The girls had been quiet after she pointed out their bullshit. Sam had always seen her be courteous and approachable when she stops by, her smiles almost making her eyes crinkle when waving at them, and treated everyone with reason, but tonight was different. This was a woman who has lost her patience after holding it for so long,

"I'm going to ask you to leave. People like you don't deserve to be served when you treat the servers here like they're nothing." Y/N ordered with her eyes unblinking with focus.

When no one moved, Y/N let Dale handle the rest by approaching the table and the girls scurried fast before they were going to be thrown out by the man who stood almost six feet tall. Sam heard a few yells at the girls to leave the diner when they exited the place and her gaze follows back Y/N who had changed her demeanor. The cook pats her back for her handling the situation and thanks her before he gives Sam a pat as well and comes back to his previous spot. It was then that the woman offered her the unsparing eyes that always looked at her and asks,

"Are you okay?" Sam thought it sounded so sweet, all she could respond was a faint nod. She didn't even comprehend how a bit close she was already to her until a hint of soft vanilla could be smelled from her. Not the kind where it almost smelled artificial like those vape juices, but it was almost authentic. The woman before her then fishes out something out of her back pocket and extended her handkerchief.

"Here. You got an extra blouse, dear?" Another question follows after Sam takes it and started wiping away some of the liquid.

"No, mines in my apartment, and it's a few blocks away," Y/N hears her voice again after it was silenced earlier, "Hey Dale, Peter doesn't mind his servers being out of uniform for a situation like this, right?" She shouts at the cook who was just about to send a plate to Dolly, Sam's partner for the shift tonight.

"Nah, let me handle him when he asks next time. I gotchu Sam." Dale nods their way.

Y/N then started unbuttoning her shirt and it revealed a white tank top underneath her white button-up shirt. Sam knew should be looking away but couldn't even help herself. Her attention was so close on her slightly toned arms until she snapped out of her daze as the woman handed her top, "Here, you can borrow this for now."

Dolly went to grab a mop and started cleaning the rest of the drink on the floor, "I'll take it from here, Sam." She reassures her and Sam was beyond grateful of the people supporting her.

"A-Are you sure?" Sam looks back at Y/N who hasn't fazed.

"Yeah don't worry about it, Sam." She beams.

The Carpenter girl then watched her walk back to her booth like nothing transpired and quietly apologized to the remaining customers she'd passed by before sitting down. But if Y/N was being honest, she was still trying to calm down from the adrenaline. She was well aware that violence was never the option, yet the possibility for things to go south was out there. She never wants to ever resort to that. Sam then finally moved from the spot she was seemingly glued onto since the confrontation and went to change in the staff room. While she was away, Y/N ordered a martini and piña colada instead of finishing her coffee. Caffeine wouldn't help flush away the rush that still lingered. In between changing her top, Sam couldn't help but wonder why someone like Y/N would stand up for her when she barely knew her.

But that thought was pushed aside when she started slipping into the button-up shirt that was handed to her by the very woman she was curious about and a whiff of her scent made its way to her nostrils again. Sam paused for a second to process how addicting Y/N's scent was. Even her damn perfume was almost sweet. After pushing her thoughts away and finishing closing the shirt, she tossed her ruined blouse in her bag and went back out to continue her shift but only to be stopped,

"Hey, I kinda asked Dale to give you a break so... care to sit with me?" Y/N wondered before the drinks she ordered arrived with Dolly winking at her. The woman shyly smiles back at her before she left them alone and dealt with another customer.

"Yeah, I'd… actually like that." Sam settled on the other side of the booth as she slide the glass of martini to her, "Oh, I'm not allowed to drink while on—"

"Take it easy, Sam. You've been through a lot just now so take it. It's on me." She waves off before taking a big sip of her piña colada.

The woman reluctantly takes a decent amount from her glass while Y/N fixes her files that had been slightly scattered on her side of the table. It was the right moment for Sam to finally pop the question,

"You knew?" It came off pretty fast, making Y/N tilt her head.

"About Woodsboro, I mean. I'm sorry that came off harder than intended." Sam clarified her question and apologized for being forward to which Y/N didn't mind.

"That's alright. I've only read two news articles about it but other than that, it's all I know."

"You don't have to tell me about it, Sam. You said you wanted to start fresh, and you don't owe anyone an explanation." Y/N assured her and the Carpenter girl countered, "No, I feel like I can trust you about… all of this." Sam replies before taking a deep breath.

From being the daughter of the original killers in the Woodsboro murders to her seeing visions of her dad in the mirror and being a victim of the ghost face attacks, she spared no details throughout her story, her therapy sessions going almost nowhere because she'd scare them off and Y/N never stopped her flow and listened intently to everything she said. Not even a single sound came out of her mouth as Sam spoke. The only thing she ever offered were observant eyes that watched every move, like how the crease on her forehead slowly increased as she went on or the hint of distaste in her voice when she mentioned her deceased ex-boyfriend. She barely bats an eye when she even admitted that she enjoyed killing him and Amber. Not a single change of muscle movement on her face other than taking a few sips from her drink and blinking now and then.

When Sam finished telling her whole story, she had been anticipating the request for her to leave and never come back, just like the one her psychiatrist said when she told him the truth that afternoon. She had grown to expect that from anyone now. Yet all she heard was an exhale from the woman she shared the table with,

"That's... a lot to take in." She hears her note as she rub her chin,

"I'm sorry you had to go through all that, Sam. You didn't deserve it." Y/N continues with empathetic eyes.

"You don't… feel like the need to push me away?" Sam asks, and for once she feared someone's answer more than anyone else. Almost too afraid that she'd scare Y/N away.

"No, not really." She told nonchalantly.

Sam stared blankly at her as she moved to cross her arms and looked down from her seat. She couldn't tell if she was about to take back her statement or maybe ask her more about the attacks. Yet Y/N was able to catch Sam off guard as she went to finish her martini,

"Not going to lie, those two deserved to die for what they did— I mean… committing murders because your movie franchise sucked? That seems childish, especially for an adult man." Y/N comments on her thoughts, not realizing it made her choke on her drink.

"Oh my god, Sam— are you okay?" She tries to offer her a glass of water though the Carpenter girl waves it off.

"No, no, it's just— you're right their motive seemed childish." A laugh follows, and it makes Y/N smile that she witnesses her being unguarded. She almost felt too lucky that Sam let herself be this vulnerable to her now.

"Thank you, for not turning me away and for always listening," Sam says after calming down.

And Sam meant it. It was nice to be heard and not hated for the first time. She felt safe knowing that she could trust a new person for once. She still has a long way from being able to trust again, but small process is still process.

"You're welcome. You deserve it." The woman says as she leans forward on the table and rested both elbows close to the edge, "If you need someone to talk about... this, I'm always open. No matter what it may be, I won't turn you away." Y/N continues with her signature smile this time.

After that, Sam went on with her shift while Y/N picked back up the papers she had scanned before the confrontation. It's a good thing she noted down her thoughts to remember where she left off and continued looking through some of the witness reports she had brought with her for their recent case. Sam would sometimes steal a few glances from her and offer a small smile whenever she gets caught. That was the moment she started growing more fond of their diner's regular. Each visit felt more special than the last and each offer of coffee breaks has made both of them closer. Whenever Sam wasn't on duty, Y/N would feel a little bored but Sam was able to text her and ask about her day. When there was someone who wanted to talk shit about her, Y/N wouldn't hesitate to spit back at them or push the person when someone throws their drink at her. The Carpenter girl appreciated the gestures and sometimes feels too bad that she gets to be splashed at, but the woman didn't mind. Tara got to meet her one day when she visited Sam to work and hanged out a little just to kill time. She was very skeptical of Y/N at first, but the way her sister eased up around her gave her the impression that she was trustworthy. Sam's trust is hard to earn after all.

The night was about to come, and Sam had just finished her shift when she happen to encounter the person that has been making her days ten times better than she ever expected. Y/N always wore a pantsuit to work, switching from 4 pairs. Today she was wearing the brown one that had a waistcoat and she was killing the style. Sam never gets tired of her presence or the way she always presents herself. She just looked ravishing in a pantsuit. Y/N had her coat neatly folded on her right arm that held folders while her messenger bag rested on her right shoulder. The smile that was so familiar to her greeted Sam Carpenter warmly that she couldn't help but blush,

"Good evening, Miss Carpenter. I'll be your chauffeur for tonight." Y/N announces with an accent. The attempt makes Sam laugh, "If that's your take on a British accent, you need to work more on it." She teased softly, shaking her head.

"C'mon, I'll walk you home." Sam hears her offer and gestured her occupied arm for her to take, which she happily does so.

"How chivalrous of you, Miss Y/L/N. Keep this up, and I might start falling for you." Half of it was a joke, but she was indeed falling for her, harder than Sam even realizes. If only she knew that Y/N had already fallen for her a while now.

She kept herself composed after Sam's teasing. Both of them chatted casually as they walk through the streets of New York. Y/N talked about her day at the office and how their copier was jamming down. It was annoying her and she had to kick it a few times before it worked again. Sam, on the other hand, shared about how a costumer had a screaming match with a date while eating and almost broke things in the diner. Dale was almost livid when the woman raised her plate and was about to throw it at the poor guy. Moments like these were nice for Sam. The life that was just mundane for once and not surrounded by the craziness of her past that still lingers. No screaming stranger threatening her, another flavored drink being thrown her way or a masked psycho trying to kill her, but a quiet night. Laughs were shared, jokes were thrown at each other, and flirts slipped here and there to make it seem like it was nothing. Even if the world around them was a little overwhelming, they were stuck in their own bubble cherishing each other's presence. Y/N was content and she had gathered enough courage until they reached Sam's apartment building. She collected her thoughts and watched her let go of her arm,

"This is me," Sam gestures to the building door, "Thank you for the walk, Y/N. It was... nice." She follows up with a light blush present on her cheeks. She hoped Y/N didn't notice them.

"Yeah, it was." Y/N smiles at her and scratched to back of her head.

"Look, I've been thinking, do you want to grab dinner sometime? You know— like a date. If you don't mind." The woman begins to avoid her brown eyes. Y/N was way too damn shy, and it made the brown girl giggle.

Sam then approaches her and almost closes the gap between them, leaving a peck on her cheek that it made Y/N jump. She turned so red it was almost like she was cherry. It was a first to witness her like this and it made Sam giggle even more as she didn't move away from her spot,

"I don't mind at all. I'm free by 6 pm tomorrow. No need to be fancy or grand, anything cheap would be fine by me." The Carpenter girl move close to her ear to whisper it to her.

Y/N then finally pulls herself together and gathers back the natural courage she had, trying to match Sam's, "6 pm, tomorrow it is then. I'll pick you up here, Carpenter."

She was the one to pull away and she puts back her signature smile before bidding her farewells to her.

"Good night, Sam. Sweet dreams." Y/N smoothly delivers and starts walking back to where they came from earlier.

Sam then watches her walk away and bites her lip. The view was indeed nice to watch. She then covers her face with both hands before giddily smiling at the ground, thinking about what had just happened. Sam thought it felt like high school all over again. That rush in her veins was quite familiar to her. It's been a while since she had it. All she has to do now is prepare for tomorrow and be sure it's perfect. Y/N, on the other hand, skipped through the streets like a little kid as she smiled widely. Few strangers looked at her funny, but everyone else focused to their own world. The papers she thought she'd be working on tonight would probably be forgotten now that the only thing on her mind is their date tomorrow.

Both women looked forward to it.

・ ‥…━━━━━━━━━━♡♡♡━━━━━━━━━━…‥ ・

thank you for reading! fell free to leave a request :>

#sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter #sam carpenter fanfic #scream 5 #scream 6 #melissa barrera #i love her so much your honor #nena's written work

[missionkitty]

[Image ID: a digital drawing of a large, horned, dark-colored humanoid with four red eyes and fly wings holding a much smaller woman with brown skin and neck-length dark hair in his arms. the smaller woman is leaned into him, gently kissing his face with her hands on his chest. the humanoid looks surprised and the woman is blushing while her eyes are closed. they are on a pink background with sparkly manga-style effects and bubbles around them. /End ID]

a quick scribble i did today of beel and cate and found some time to put some color on...they meet in the late 80s-early 90s so i was trying to make it feel like an old anime, though idk how successful i was--but i like how it turned out anyway :3

#moonlight valley comic #artists on tumblr #original characters #supernatural #supernatural creatures #demon #demon oc #character design #romance #fluff #size difference #demon x human #art #drawing #hungry love #big mans just needed a little kiss... #though he is still surprised that cate is still so sweet with him even in his demon form

[euphoniouspandemonium]

hey bestie!!! graffiti, film and The Scream for roche limit for that writing ask :]

Hii Cate !! Thanks for the ask :]

Graffiti: Have you ever had to research something that felt illicit or illegal for a fic? What was it?

Stab wounds, gunshot wounds, types of guns, strychnine poisoning, poisons in general, how long it takes for a body to decompose underwater (I forgot but I do remember there's a difference between cold waters and tropical waters (it's faster in tropical waters iirc. Hotter and more creatures). Rn I'm tempted to look up what human meat tastes like. Also I haven't really gotten into the research I need for Roche Limit because I'm lazy and have written only a tiny bit of it BUT. Well I have to research cults and drug dealing and such. So. Yeahhhhh.

Film: Which one of your fics do you think would work best if turned into a movie? Who would direct it?

Uhm. I have many little stories in the Roche Limit universe which would work gloriously as films or even shows — specifically my WIPs with Abby (major side character in RL) and specifically all his catastrophic relationships. I also think Roche Limit itself would be an awesome movie but only if all the filming locations are weird liminal spaces + there's little animated bits like scribbles over people's faces and little eyes in certain places + all shots work with a similar colour palette (red, cobalt blue, turquoise, yellow) + as much practical effects as possible. All of that to convey the fact that Halcyon is dissociating and going slightly insane. I don't know about directors though. Maybe Michel Gondry, who directed Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind.

The Scream: are there any moments in this work that you think could scare a reader? Are there any moments where the characters themselves are profoundly scared?

I don't think I'm capable of writing anything that would scare a reader, rip, but there are many scenes where the characters are full of fear in Roche Limit :) teehee.

#THIS IS LIKE A MONTH LATE I AM SO SORRY #i will attempt to answer other asks that have been stewing in my ask box wish me luck #answers to ask games

[amerrierworld]

brain.

I chewed the end of my pencil’s eraser, the flavour off-putting but not unwelcome. Looking at my pile of drafts and blurb prompts, the brief inkling of my motivation that I had earlier seemed to be slipping away.

“You know, this would be a lot easier if I became obsessed with something new again, quickly,” I grumbled, abusing the delete button on my keyboard as I rewrote a sentence again.

“What’s wrong with the things you’re currently obsessed with?” A low chuckle came from the other side of the room. Lou stepped through the doorway and to the side of my desk, planting reassuring hands on my shoulders. “Just write another steamy fic about me... You’ve got plenty already.”

“Yeah but I don’t want to just write about you, no matter how much I love writing about you,” I look up at her and she tuts, stealing the pencil from my mouth. “I have to keep up with different things!”

“Well, you keep promising them you’ll write more about us,” Hela grumbled from the couch in the back of the room, pointing between her and Alcina, who was hunched over uncomfortably in the small office space. “How many parts does Babysitter still need to finish the story, hm?”

“Don’t start,” I groaned, hiding my face with my hands.

“And Songbird was supposed to be just three parts, right? Now what, you’ve given yourself about ten total? You think you’ll have the stamina for that?” The Countess added.

“You’re not helping! Any of you!” I snapped, closing my laptop and getting up. “I need a drink.”

“I hope it’s one of my brands,” Alcina commented. “You know they’re the best.”

“I don’t drink blood-wine, Alci.” 

Lou, trusty Lou, followed me around the elaborate palace of writing I had constructed for myself, flicking through a notebook of drafts and characters from my recent writings. 

“You really stuck around with this, didn’t you?” She gestured to the pages of scribbles.

“What?” I asked, grabbing a glass from the cabinet in the kitchen. 

“Me, Debs, Hela, Carol, Alci, basically everything Cate Blanchett played and then some.”

“Oh, shut up,” I growled. “I wrote about some other characters too you know!”

“Yeah, years ago,” Thorin muttered, sitting at the kitchen island next to Obi-Wan. “We both barely got any mention. Fili’s story took years to finish, didn't it?”

“Boys, I promise I still love all of you. It’s just that the women characters have been more on my mind recently.”

“Well, you haven’t written about all of Cate’s characters,” Valka muttered, and Bernadette nodded. “When are you gonna invite Lydia in?”

“When I have the stamina to even begin thinking about such a complex character! I could barely write one fic about Lilith as it is!”

“Oh, sorry, we’re not complex enough for ya!” Karl snarled, chugging back my entire last bottle of wine. “This is shit, by the way.”

“Hey! That was my last bottle.”

“This is your dream, just think up another,” he scoffed, chucking the bottle into the sink.

“Just pick something! Anything will work, and to be honest, I’m surprised you haven’t written about me yet,” Legolas sat perched on one of the tables, fiddling with the ends of one of his arrows. “There’s loads in Fellowship you could write on.”

“Jesus Christ, where’d you come from? And no, I can’t just pick something! I need a good explanation for my insane hiatus... again!”

“Ah, you’ll be fine,” Bernadette replied. “The loyal fans will understand.”

“Don’t call them fans,” I muttered. “I feel weird thinking that people out there actually enjoy my writing.”

“Besides,” she kept going, “You’ve been coming and going as you please anyways since the start! Isn’t that indicative enough that you can take all the time you need if you need it?”

“Doesn’t stop me from feeling guilty though!” I sighed. “I feel like I owe my writing another piece. Something good. But that’s scary, because what the hell is supposed to be good? And what if no one reads it? It’s not even a ground-breaking novel, it’s just silly little paragraphs about characters that aren’t even mine.”

“So what?” Lou crossed her arms, leaning against the doorway -- her best place to pose. “You like writing it, so write it. Doesn’t matter if people read it. You don’t even have to post it, if you don’t want.”

Galadriel walked in beside her, hands deftly clasped in front of her. “There’s plenty to write about, meleth-nin. You’ll find something. If it’s not a fic like this, maybe something else. And if something is unfinished, let it be. That’s what the process is for.”

I opened the kitchen cabinet, and sure enough, there was another bottle of wine. But, instead, I reached for the apple juice next to it. It was nice and cold, despite not being in the fridge. God, I loved imagining things. 

“I could write more smut -- people like reading it, and it’s fun to write,” I shrugged after chugging half a glass. “But what if I should try something more? Maybe a couple parts to a story, like in dreams, but just stop it after a few, and not force myself to think of it as a massive novel with endless chapters? That’s what happened with Babysitter... I had a fantastic idea and now I’m scared to take it somewhere.”

“Maybe one day you’ll finish the big ones,” Obi-Wan mused, stroking his beard from the table. “You could always try a different series that you’ve already seen, watched, and loved. Maybe that’ll get the ball rolling. There’s lots more to Star Wars than just me.”

“I know, but I love you,” I pouted. “And Star Wars is massive!”

“So is Tolkien,” Thorin shrugged. “You’ve written about us plenty.”

��Could’ve written about me,” Loki grinned. “You basically did, of course, but you made me more the side-character. I think I would do really well as the protagonist--”

“Maybe take the time to watch new stuff, you know, the things you keep saying you’ll get into, but then don't?” Debbie suggested, pulling out a massive list of my to-be-watched and to-be-read. I pouted again, I wanted to, but had no idea where to start.

They had all entered the dining room now, Alci sitting on the floor to make room for her head. And they all looked at me expectantly. There was a typewriter on the table.

“Oh, no, absolutely not. I’m not writing something while you’re all sitting here watching me.”

“Well, what’ll it be then?” Hela countered. “You’re gonna finish this fic and be done for the day -- or should I say, year?”

“I don’t know what to write about!”

“Write about this,” Bernadette said, gesturing wildly around the room. “And then maybe something new will happen after.”

“You know, this is definitely a fever dream,” I grumbled. “I could never look a so many of Cate Blanchett’s characters at once and be able to form complete sentences.”

Three peculiar flies landed around the typewriter, buzzing haphazardly. Alcina shooed them away and the three daughters materialized, hanging from the chandelier.

“If you break that, you’ll pay for it!” I warned.

“If we break it, that means you made us break it!” Cassandra cackled. “Can’t win, sweetie. Not even in your own daydreams.”

“No, I suppose not,” I slumped in the chair and looked at the blank page. “Writing fic isn’t meant to feel like a chore, right?”

“Don’t ask us, we’re not writers,” Karl grumbled, sitting at a plate of hot food piled high. 

“Where did that come from?” I gaped. He wagged a finger in the air in thought while chewing a massive piece of steak.

“Hmn, I think... you might be hungry. Best get some fuel when you wake up.”

“But first,” Carol said softly, resting her hand on my shoulder. “Write something. Anything. Any word.”

I thought for a moment, the clock in the hall ticking loudly. Fuck it.

brain.

#word vomit #thought dump #merry writes #can you spot all the characters

[essouffle]

#ocean's 8 #lou #cate blanchett #such a fun movie #scribble #other art

[flungoutofspacebelivet]

The one and only Carol Aird~

#carol #therese #carolaird #theresebelivet #carol aird #therese belivet #cate #cate blanchett #the price of salt #patricia highsmith #rooney #rooney mara #art #lgbt #lesbian #scribble #smoking #vintage #digital #colour

[flowercrownroman]

vida is loud. vida has smudged eyeliner from last night. she was listening to her loud music. loud enough to silence the world. she slept in the noise and makeup. she hangs scribbles and pictures on her walls. of cate. of her parents. of jude. she loves loudly. she lives loudly. jude has to remind her to brush the dirt and blood out of her hair sometimes. after a mission. jude holds her tight to his body. vida lets him. with jude vida is. calm. understanding. vida hums to him so jude knows he isn't alone. so there is a sound. not loud. only for jude to hear. they have late night talks when jude is new at the league. he talks about the dark. she talks about the park. silence is not for vida. not for jude. vida is loud for herself. she is loud for her family. she will always be loud for jude.

#i hope this makes you all cry. #i am having many thoughts #needed to wrote this out figured you would like it #the darkest minds #tdm #vida conner #never fade #jude conner #i scream in my head everytime i think about jude and vida #madeitmyselftehe

[marshunter06]

Fuck Off, Excuse Me! Part 4

Yea I still don’t know how this will end but I have a vague idea for the next few parts I guess? Emphasis on the vague. Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3 can be found here if anyone’s lost. Again not edited cause this is just a fic that I’m rolling along with

The next few days have been awkward to say the least, after explaining the whole situation to both Cate and Trent, Courtney does feel a little better now that she doesn’t have to keep this secret by herself. The problem is, all three of the people who know about Duncan have turned against her. Why oh why did she have to make friends and be related to hopeless romantics who buy into the soulmate bullshit. Sure she can admit she has a bond with the delinquent, but it doesn’t mean anything, besides she’s far too busy to deal with a stranger who only exists to annoy her. Maybe the whole soulmate thing means the person who will give you the biggest headache, she swears her mood worsens whenever he’s around. It’s like he completely ignores her concerns, continuing to push her boundaries, insisting they’re in it for the long run so she needs to relax and just let it be. No matter how much she pushes him away, he just finds a way to worm himself back into her space.

“Did you miss me Princess?”

“Can’t you go bother someone else? It’s bad enough I have to see you in class.”

“Alright, if that’s what you want. See ya.”

She’s completely caught off guard by the sudden change, he’s walking away without a backwards glance back. Not even caring to see if she would stop him, not that she would… this is exactly what she wants right? She nods to herself, yes this is what she’s been wanting, both of them to stay out of each other’s way. It’s nice that he’s finally listening, she much prefers to be apart from him, she’s just not quite used to it yet. That’s the only reason why she spends the rest of lunch break picking at her food instead of eating it.

Her mood worsens as the rest of the day goes on, he dodged her in the hall on their way to their respective classes. A surprise pop quiz in math that she wasn’t prepared for at all didn’t help, and now it’s time for history which means she’ll see Duncan again. She takes in a deep breath before entering the classroom, but when she takes her seat next to him, he doesn’t acknowledge her too absorbed in whoever he was texting. She frowns, an uneasy feeling sinks in when he makes no effort to say hello, she decides to break the ice and greet him first. All she receives is a polite hello then he goes back to focusing on his cellphone. She had hoped that once the lecture began, he would pay attention to the teacher, but he was still texting underneath the desk. To avoid getting him in trouble, she whispers for him to at least pretend to take notes.

“Duncan, stop texting and pay attention.”

“Relax Princess, I won’t get caught… are you worried I’ll get in trouble?”

“I don’t care what happens to you, but if you look bad then that will reflect poorly on me. I’m supposed to be keeping you on track.”

He rolls his eyes at her response, he does start scribbling some words down in his notebook otherwise he ignores her warnings. Curiosity gets the best of her as she wonders who he could possibly be talking to right now, so she tries to peek over, but he catches on, locking the screen before she can see any part of their conversation. His smug expression when he teases her about being jealous sets her off, she forgets to keep her voice low resulting in a scolding from their teacher. Duncan snickers which only serves to make her more annoyed, she forces herself to keep her eyes forward for the rest of class. Which would have worked if Duncan didn’t provoke her again.

“Don’t worry Courtney, you know I only have eyes for you.”

“You are unbelievably…”

This second outburst interrupts the lecture leaving the teacher no choice but to give both of them detention. Courtney would never act out on her own, so clearly the new student was the culprit, they both need to be reprimanded. Used to getting in trouble, Duncan shrugs it off, but Courtney goes into full panic mode. She’s never been sent to detention before, what if this goes on her record? She’s going to be ruined! She’s still hyperventilating when the bell rings signaling the end of school and the beginning of their detention. A hand on her shoulder radiating warmth calms her down, she looks up to see ice blue eyes filled with concern for her well-being. His voice is soft as he gently asks if she’s okay, her anxious thoughts start to disappear as soon as she feels his touch. She nods her head, he smiles telling her it would be alright, especially since this is her first offense. She feels a lot better when he places his hand over hers, their names on each other’s skin almost looks like it’s glowing except without the pain from last time.

“Trust me, I’m a pro when it comes to this, you have nothing to worry about Princess.”

“Great, my soulmate is a delinquent, exactly what I need right now.”

“Say that again.”

“What?”

“You called me your soulmate!”

“What? No I didn’t… I mean that… that was a mistake… I didn’t mean.”

“Face it Courtney, you like me.”

“I do not!”

“Then why were you trying to see who I was texting?”

“I-I was not! I could care less about whatever girl you’re texting…”

“What makes you think it’s a girl?”

“Isn’t it? You kept smiling.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“What!”

“Calm down Babe, it’s just Phia, she’s my best friend. You should meet her, I’m sure you two will get along!”

His reassurance puts a smile on her face, their hands are still joined as they walk through the mostly empty hall on their way to detention. Though before they enter the room she drops his hand, remembering they’re still in school where people could see them. The action makes Duncan frown, he thought they were finally getting somewhere. It seems she still cares too much about her reputation, he still has a long way to go before she admits there’s something between them. He’s going to need some backup.

#duncney #FOEM! #I kinda know the next chapter but then after that idk man #I really should be working on my WIPs but here we are

[ficsandgiggles]

i’m adding onto my previous ask because i’m having such a soft moment right now lmao

imagine your character is super serious. like, deadly serious. scarlett and flo love messing with you, so during some scenes where you had to be deadpan serious, they would quickly scribble their fingers into your ribs and armpits, which you can’t not react to, you’re too ticklish for that, and then act like they did nothing. cate, the director, would eventually have to stop them because they would have to get the scene down.

some days you would be exhausted and missing your family, which made you feel kind of down. after they wrap for the day, scarlett and flo would snuggle with you and gently tickle your sides and neck, but with enough pressure to keep you giggling softly.

they both love to give you tickle hugs, which you secretly LOVE. scar will wrap you into her arms and dig her fingers under you arms, and keep you trapped so you can’t move away.

you are a deep sleeper, and some mornings it would be impossible to wake you up. flo would pull the covers off you and start tickling your feet, keeping a tight grip on your ankles and watching you squirm with an evil grin.

have fun suffering part 2!

Gahhhh I love this so much, these headcanons are giving me life

Also, I have been considering writing a fic with Scarlett and Florence where they cheer them up when they’re down at a party… so… if I write it, I will definitely add Scarlett’s hugs because gAH

[lab-gr0wn-lambs]

2 years later and my man is fucking losing it

#old one was a style experiment this one is too #very excited about this one #look at him he's so scrunk #friendship ended with line-smoothing #adventure time #simon petrikov #fionna and cake #fionna and cake spoilers #fionna and cake fanart #adventure time fanart #simon petrikov fanart #draw this again #re draw #re-draw #cate's scribbles #scribbles

[spine-buster]

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 11

A/N:  I know this chapter doesn’t have a lot of William/Aberdeen interaction, but we learn a lot about Aberdeen here.  Plus, the next chapters definitely make up for it.  Enjoy!

November 29th, 2019

Aberdeen Bloom was ready to go home and watch the game.  

They were facing Buffalo tonight, the first game in a back to back that would see the boys finally come home tomorrow after their long road trip.  Like most nights, all she wanted to do was go home, snuggle with Minerva, and finish the bag of Doritos.  Maybe she’d even be able to cook a well-balanced dinner before eating those Doritos she craved.

Except Peter had other plans for her.  

“You need to wait tonight for the mock-ups,” he told her before she could even pack up her bag and put on her jacket.  

“The…the mock-ups,” she nodded her head, pretending to know what he was talking about.  

“The mock-ups, Aberdeen.  Of the St. Pat’s jersey the team is going to wear,” Peter said.  “You have to deliver it to Brendan’s house tonight when the designer is finally done with it.”

“I thought he got those last week.”

“He did, but every night since then he’s returned it with his notes,” Peter explained.  “I’m supposed to do it, because Brendan is very private and doesn’t like strangers in his house, but I’m at an alumni event with Kyle tonight.  So…you get the lovely task of waiting around for the mock-ups.”

“That’s fine,” Aberdeen said.  She figured she wasn’t a stranger anymore to him, anyway – she’d been working for the team for about three months now.  Plus, it wasn’t like she could refuse to do it.  It was, in its own way, part of her job – sit around and do nothing but wait for something she needed to deliver.

“Now, it’s very important that you do exactly what I’m about to tell you,” Peter said, his tone suddenly getting very serious.  “Write this down.”  Aberdeen scrambled to get a pad of paper and a pen.  “The mock-ups will be delivered to you in a black portfolio and you must wait around for it until then.  You’re going to have to deliver Brendan’s dry cleaning with the mock-ups.”

“Okay…” she scribbled everything down so quickly she could barely read her own writing.  

“Lou will take you straight to Brendan’s house, as he does every morning.  Lou will have a spare key.  You let yourself in.  Now, Aberdeen…” Peter loomed over her sitting at her desk at this point.  He was looking her straight in the eye, staring into her soul.  “You do not talk to anyone.  Do not look at anyone.  This is of the utmost importance.  You must be invisible.  Do you understand?”

“Y—Yes.”

“You open the door and walk across the foyer.  You hang the dry cleaning in the closet across from the staircase that leads to the basement.  And you leave the mock-ups on the table with the flowers.  You then leave like you weren’t even there – like the mock-ups were delivered by a stork or something.”

“O—Okay,” he had officially made her nervous.  “W—What if—”

“Invisible, Aberdeen.”

She nodded her head.

***

“Here’s his key,” Lou said as they sat in the car for a few moments after he parked on the street.  “Peter told you what to do, yes?”

“Mhm,” Aberdeen nodded, gulping nervously.  She grabbed the key from Lou’s hand and clutched it in her hands.  “Wish me luck, Lou.”

She exited the car and walked up the driveway slowly, clutching the portfolio in one hand and his dry cleaning in the other, swung over her shoulder.  Shoving the key into the door, she opened it as quietly as she could, walking into his foyer.  Fuck, he had a beautiful house.  So this was the benefit of being the president of the Toronto Maple Leafs, huh?  And a three-time Stanley Cup Champion.  And one of the top 100 hockey players of all time…

Okay.  The dry cleaning.  

She looked at the stairs that led to the basement and noticed the closet right across from it, so she opened the door as quietly as she could and hung the three suits.  She closed it and looked around for a table with flowers.  

There was one right beside the closet.

There was one right at the entrance.

There was one further down the hall, with bigger flowers.

Aberdeen panicked.  “Shit!” she squealed to herself.  She stood in the hallway awkwardly, not knowing what to do.  The distant sound of a TV on somewhere in the house could be heard.  Somebody was walking upstairs.  Brendan was obviously somewhere in the house, but she had to be invisible.  Invisible.  But which table was it?!  What if she left the portfolio on the wrong one and he didn’t see it?  What if – what if – it had to be the table with the big flowers on it, right?  It was the biggest table.  The portfolio would at least fit on it and wouldn’t fall off.  The other tables were smaller.  Okay, big table with big flowers it was.

So she began walking into his house.  As quiet as a mouse.

But then she heard voices.  A long “Daaaaad!” and Brendan’s voice mumbling something.  Aberdeen froze in fear.

“Sweetpea, I was on a conference call with the NHL offices in New York City,” she heard Brendan loud and clear now as he followed his youngest daughter, Cate, right into Aberdeen’s view.

Cate whipped around and stopped right in the doorframe Aberdeen was looking into.  “But dad, I rushed out of class to try and call you, and I was trying to get a hold of you for almost an hour—”

“I was busy, sweetpea.  My cell phone line was all tied up and the notifications were silenced for the meeting—”

“You were the only dad who didn’t know within the hour.  Everyone else’s dad called to congratulate them on being selected for the team.  And I knew what all my friends were thinking – there’s Cate, waiting for her dad again.”  Cate stopped, noticing Aberdeen in the hallway.  Aberdeen couldn’t move as Cate saw her – she was too terrified.  When Brendan noticed his daughter looking away, he looked as well, seeing Aberdeen.

If one look could murder someone, Brendan had it on his face.  

Cate walked away from her dad, leaving him staring at Aberdeen, who was practically trembling from fear.  Her body felt like it was full of cement as she stood in place, not knowing what to do.  She couldn’t just hand in him the portfolio; she could just outright leave his house with the portfolio still in her hands.  As he continued to stare at her, she felt her body getting hotter under the pressure to do something.  Without thinking, she turned to her side, put the portfolio on the third or fourth step of the stairs beside her, and rushed out of the house, not looking back.  

***

November 30th, 2019

The next morning, Lou informed her that Brendan had gone into the office early, so they didn’t need to drive out to Etobicoke.  Aberdeen thought that weird, but didn’t put too much thought into it.  When she walked into the office alone, she barely had the opportunity to put her coffee or bag down before Peter swooped in.  “Nooooo no no no, you get over here,” Peter grabbed her arm.

“Okay okay okay okay—” she knew exactly what this was about.  

“What in the world happened last night, Aberdeen?” he asked.  

“It really wasn’t that big a deal.  I promise.  There were multiple tables with flowers, so I went into the hallway, you know near the stairs where the big table is—”

“You went into the hallway?  Oh my God, why didn’t you just climb into bed with him and Catherine and ask for a bedtime story?!” Peter was indignant.

“Okay, I made a mistake.  I know—”

“Aberdeen, you don’t understand.  I was the one supposed to teach you the ins and outs of this.  I can get in shit too, and if that happens, I will search every bank in the city of Toronto you’ll be telling in until I track you down.”

Aberdeen’s eyes widened at what Peter was implying.  “He’s gonna fire me?!”

Peter shrugged his shoulders.  “I don’t know.  But he’s not happy.”

“Aberdeen?” her name was called from deep within Brendan’s office.  

Both she and Peter looked towards the office.  Aberdeen could swear her heart was beating out of her chest.  She put her bag down on her desk and took off her jacket before she walked in, standing a few feet away from his desk.  “Mr. Shanahan…about last night—”

“I need you to get a jersey signed by Nick,” he said, furiously scribbling something down on his notepad, not looking at her.

She exhaled quietly.  Okay, so maybe he wasn’t as mad as Peter made him out to be.  Maybe he took it in stride and realized she was still learning and all he wanted her to do right now was get a jersey signed by Nik Antropov.  “Okay.  Okay.  I’ll go down to player development right now.”

“Did you fall down and smack your head on the pavement?”

She froze.  He finally looked up at her through his glasses, waiting for an answer.  Okay, maybe he was angry.  “Not that I can recall.”

“We need a Tre Kronor jersey from 2006 signed by Nicklas Lidstrom for a veteran who will be in attendance at the game tonight against Buffalo,” he said before focusing back on whatever he was scribbling down.  “We’re surprising him off-camera since Nick is his favourite defensemen.”

Aberdeen’s heart dropped into the pit of her stomach.  “You want a signed jersey I can only find in Sweden?”

“We know everybody in hockey.  It shouldn’t be a problem, should it?” he asked, peering at her though he was still scribbling.  “And you can do anything, right?”

She smiled meekly at him before exiting his office.  She scurried behind her desk and noticed that Peter was still there, waiting for her to get out.  “He doesn’t get it,” she mumbled frantically to herself, scrambling and picking up things she didn’t even need, only to put them back on her desk.  “I could call fucking Nicklas Lidstrom himself.  I’m not gonna get that jersey.”

“What?” Peter furrowed his brows.

“Colonel Richard Brant will be backstage with us before the game.  6:30 is when I hope to give him the jersey so it better be here no later than six,” Brendan said as he walked out of the office, looking down at his watch for extra effect.

“Of course!” Aberdeen exaggerated her smile.

“And I’d like a hot coffee here in fifteen minutes when I get back,” he walked off.

“No problem!” she called out, starting to pant.  “Okay.  I have nine hours to get the impossible jersey.  Starbucks is just downstairs.  How am I going to do this?”

“Aberdeen, what are you talking about?  What impossible jersey?”

Aberdeen ignored Peter’s question, closing up her iPad and shoving it into her purse.  She sprung up from her desk chair.  “Okay.  I will be back in ten minutes.  Wish me luck!”

“Aberdeen!” Peter called after her as she ran down the hallway.  “ABERDEEN!”

***

Aberdeen’s heart had never beat so hard as it did as she was waiting for Brendan’s coffee.  She tried to think of ways she could get this impossible jersey.  Nicklas Lidstrom lived all the way in fucking Sweden.  Sweden.  A ten hour flight away – probably more.  And it’s not like the Leafs had his personal number or anything.  She had no way of contacting him and no way of even knowing anybody who would be remotely close to—

“We know everybody in hockey,” Brendan’s words echoed in her ear.  

Her eyes went wide.  She took out her phone and began furiously typing ‘Nicklas Lindstrom agent’ – three different agencies popped up with three different phone numbers – one for hockey, one for professional appearances, and another one for signings.  This was her start.

“Coffee for Brendan!” the barista called out, and Aberdeen reached to grab it before the barista could even put it down.  She rushed back up to the office, scurrying through the hallways and into his office to place it on his desk.  

She watched as he walked in, looking at his watch.  “What’s that?”  he asked, grabbing some files from his desk.  “I don’t want that.  I’m having lunch with Larry.  I’ll be back at three.”

Brendan left just as quickly as he arrived.  Aberdeen stood awkwardly in his office, trying not to cry as she picked up the Starbucks cup and practically whipped it into the garbage can.  She made herself calm down so her voice wouldn’t crack as she grabbed her iPad and her phone and began calling the numbers available for Nick.  When the two first ones didn’t even answer the phone, she prayed to God the last number worked in her favour.

She was put on hold for over ten minutes.  She wanted to scream.  Just as she was about to hang up and try the other numbers again, or at least call back because maybe she got stuck in an alternate “on hold” universe where she had been floating in the abyss for the last ten minutes, the stupid elevator music that was playing stopped.  “Alright, who’s Aberdeen Bloom and what do you need?” a man’s loud voice suddenly filled the line.

“Yes yes yes yes.  I’ve been on hold.  It’s for Brendan Shanahan – my name is Aberdeen Bloom and I’m his personal assistant.  It’s very important.  I need access to Nicklas Lidstrom and a Tre Kronor jersey—”

“Impossible,” the man barked.  

“Well, I was wondering if you could make the impossible possible…if that’s at all possible,” she was practically begging.  She knew she sounded completely desperate but at this point, she didn’t care.  Her job was on the line, and she would do anything to save it.

“Impossible,” he barked again.  “What do you think this is, some sort of convention?”

“Have I mentioned it’s for Brendan Shanahan?  President of the Toronto Maple Leafs?  Cause I think that makes a difference,” Aberdeen pressed.

“I know you’re desperate but it can’t be done,” he continued.  “You’ll just have to come up with a plan B.”

“This is Brendan Shanahan we’re talking about,” Aberdeen wanted to scream into the phone.  “There is no plan B – there is only plan A.”

“Listen.  Nick’s in Toronto but he’s booked solid.  He’s not taking any new meetings or engagements.”

Aberdeen couldn’t believe what she was hearing.  She wished this fucking dude could have led their abysmal conversation with that tidbit of information instead of giving her the go-around.  “He’s – He’s in Toronto?!”

“Yes, he’s been staying at the Four Seasons for the past two weeks because of the alumni game he had with Mats Sundin and other engagements.  But he’s leaving for Sweden tomorrow.  Today is his last and possibly his busiest day.  He just can’t get it done.”

The Four Seasons was up in Yorkville.  She could get there in maybe ten minutes if she flagged down a taxi.  “Have a good day,” she said as she hung up her phone, grabbing her bag and iPad before rushing out of the office

If Nick’s agent wasn’t going to help her, she was going to have to get to Nicklas her damn self.

***

Aberdeen tried to walk calmly into the Four Seasons – not at all looking like she was in a rush because her job was on the line and she was going to be fired at six that night – but the attempt proved futile.  One of the women behind the check-in desk was looking right at her the entire time she made her way towards them.  

“Hi,” Aberdeen said, slightly out of breath.  “My name is Aberdeen Bloom,” she said, grabbing her credentials and flashing them at the woman.  

“Can I help check you in?” the woman smiled.

“No no.  I’m Brendan Shanahan’s personal assistant.”  The woman looked confused.  “Brendan Shanahan, the president of the Toronto Maple Leafs,” she said, pushing the credentials forward so the woman could look at them herself.  “I need you to call Nicklas Lidstrom’s room for me so I can speak to him.”

The woman looked between Aberdeen and her credentials and furrowed her brows.  “Miss, I’m sorry, but a Mr. Nicklas Lidstrom is not staying at this hotel.”

Aberdeen’s body felt like it was on fire.  She knew this woman was lying, and Aberdeen didn’t have time for it at all.  There was no time for anything to go wrong right now.  “Listen, I know this is all very weird, but I know he’s staying here.  His agent just told me he’s been here for the last two weeks.  I need you to get a hold of him for me.”

“Miss – a Mr. Lidstrom is not staying at this hotel,” the woman repeated, moving towards the computer.  “I can even type his name in for you – no-one by that name is staying here.”

“Please, please, I’m begging you,” Aberdeen shook her head.  This couldn’t be happening to her right now.  “I know he must be under an alias or something because he’s a hockey player and this is Toronto.  I get it.  But I really need you to—”

“Miss, I’m sorry but it can’t be done,” the woman pushed Aberdeen’s credentials back towards her so she could take them.  “Nobody by that name is staying here.  And that’s that.”

“But his agent told me—”

“Miss, if you’re going to keep pressing this, I’m going to have to call my manager.”

That’s the last thing Aberdeen needed.  Aberdeen grabbed her credentials before giving one last dirty look to the woman as a ‘thanks for nothing’ – it was probably immature, but Aberdeen really didn’t like her right now.

Now what was she going to do?  If the hotel wouldn’t even let her have access to him, despite her showing them her credentials, how in the hell was she going to get to talk to him?  Would she have to sneak into the elevator and knock on every door until she found him?  Would she have to call back his agent and demand the access to him?  Would she have to learn Swedish and scream his name into the streets of Toronto and hope he’d hear?  Would she – Swedish – Swedish –

Swedish.  

No.  

She couldn’t.

She shouldn’t.

She had to.  

She whipped out her phone and called a number she knew off by heart.  “Real Sports Bar and Grill, how may I help you?” a perky voice answered on the other end.

“This is Aberdeen Bloom, Brendan Shanahan’s personal assistant,” she began as she usually did when she called them.  “I need you to get me the contact information for Michael Nylander immediately.”

“A-ber-deeeeeen Bloooom?” the girl on the other end asked.  Clearly she was new.  All the other hostesses already knew her name and had done the super-elongated pronunciation of her name before.  “I just can’t give that information away—”

“I am Brendan Shanahan’s personal assistant,” she repeated, her tone harsher this time.  “Check the employee directory if you need to.”

“I don’t have access to that—”

“Then call your manager!” she screamed, her patience wearing thin.  “I need his telephone number now.”

***

“Hello Mr. Nylander, this is Aberdeen Bloom calling.  You, uh, you probably don’t remember me – we met very briefly after a game in Toronto when you came to say hi to William and I opened the door for you.  I’m Brendan Shanahan’s personal assistant.  Um, anyways, listen – I have a massive favour to ask you because I’m desperate.  Like, desperate.  I noticed that you played on the same World Championship team as Nicklas Lidstrom, and I was wondering if you can please give me his personal phone number.  Like, a number he’d use when he’s in North America.  I need to contact him about something urgent, very urgent.  So, um, please, if you could give me a call back, that would be amazing.  Thank you, Mr. Nylander.  Have um, a good night?  I know it’s like almost night time there.  Okay bye.”

***

Every jersey on eBay was a fake or already had a name on it.  Aberdeen was getting desperate.  She’d been to Real Sports Apparel – no Tre Kronor jerseys.  She’d called every SportsChek, Sportling Life, Champs Sports, and just about every independent sports store in Toronto – no Tre Kronor jerseys.  Even the last store that she’d visited – gone by foot, even – didn’t have anything Swedish.

She was going to cry.  She’d be fired.  This is where it all ended.  She’d end up a bank teller for the rest of her life.  She’d never be able to write.  She’d never be able to do what she loved.  All because she couldn’t find a stupid jersey and was denied any access to one of the best defencemen in the history of the league —

Then her phone began to ring, snapping her away from her thoughts.  It was an unknown number.  Against her better judgement, she answered the call.  “Hello?”

“Hello, is this Aberdeen Bloom?” a calm voice asked on the other end.  She noticed because she was anything calm right now.

“Speaking.”

“Miss Bloom, this is Nicklas Lidstrom.”

Aberdeen stopped dead in her tracks, making various people almost crash into her on the sidewalk.  One of them gave her the finger.  “Mr. Lidstrom!  Hello!”

“My good friend Michael Nylander called me and gave me your number and told me to get in touch with you,” he said.  Her eyes went wide; she was going to have to erect a gold statue in Michael’s honour.  “Apparently you’re Brendan Shanahan’s personal assistant and there is an urgent matter?”

“Yes Mr. Lidstrom, yes,” she said, spinning around because she didn’t know what to do.  “Sir, I understand you’re in Toronto right now.”

“I am.”

“Staying at the Four Seasons?”

“Yes…”

“We have a veteran coming to the game tonight – Colonal Richard Brant – and you are his favourite defenseman,” she explained.  “I was wondering if you could sign a Tre Kronor jersey from 2006, when you won the gold medal.”

Nicklas laughed into the phone.  “A Tre Kronor jersey?  Miss Bloom, I will sign what you need me to sign, but I don’t have a Tre Kronor jersey with me.  Not least from 2006.”

“If I find one, will you sign it?”

“Well, I don’t know where you’re going to find an almost fifteen year old mint-condition Swedish jersey in Toronto, but sure.  Unless you have it shipped in from Sweden.  You’ll have to come to the Four Seasons after 5:30 – that’s when my last commitment ends,” he said.  

“I’ll be there at 5:30,” she said definitively.  “I’ll call you back on this number.”

Aberdeen’s heart was racing as she hung up the phone.  She had exhausted all her sports store leads for Swedish jerseys.  What else could she do?  Who else could she call?  Who in Toronto would have a mint condition Tre Kronor jersey from 2006?  Swedish people, obviously, but…

Her eyes went wide.  She swiped through her phone to find another phone number.  

“Aberdeen?” Robert Nordmark, one of the Swedish scouts for the Leafs, answered on the other end.  “Why’re you calling me?

“Robert, where can I find a 2006 Tre Kronor Olympic jersey in Toronto?”

***

It was 5:55pm as Aberdeen made her way throughout the offices, her flats clacking against the floor as she made her way into Brendan Shanahan’s office.  He was facing away from her, so he couldn’t see her come in and place the jersey on his desk in one fell swoop.  It was the breeze from the jersey that finally made him turn around, immediately eyeing her and looking down at the jersey on his desk.

“One jersey, not signed?” he asked, staring down at the Tre Kronor jersey.  “What is the colonel going to do with that?  He probably already has five.”

“Oh no, here’s the signature,” she said, flipping the jersey over to reveal the perfect inscription and signature.  “I had Mr. Lidstrom customize it and sign it, right here on his number,” she said, watching Brendan’s eyebrows raise higher and higher until he took off his glasses.  “And one more thing.”

Brendan’s eyes whipped up to meet hers.  “What’s that?”

On cue, Nicklas walked into Brendan’s office.  “Hey Shanny – or do I have to call you Mr. Shanahan now?”

“Nicklas,” he smiled, though he was still looking at Aberdeen.  His body was perfectly still despite one of his old friends walking into the room.  “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” Aberdeen smiled.

He eyed her one more time.  He was clearly in shock that she was able to get it done.  “That’s all.”

***

Aberdeen’s body was aching with fatigue as she gathered the last of her belongings from her desk after the game.  The Leafs had won in overtime, Colonel Richard Brant got his jersey and got to meet Nicklas, which made him cry, and everything was alright in the world.  She’d finally be able to go home after the shit-show of the day she had.  Cuddle with Minerva.  Eat Doritos.  Eat in general, since she hadn’t all day, too busy going on wild goose chases all over Toronto for Nicklas Lidstrom and a Tre Kronor jersey from random Swedish people living in The Beaches who just happened to have five Nicklas Lidstrom jerseys from 2006 in their house because that’s how much they loved him.

As she escaped down the stairs, taking the route that would lead her right out the door to the street, she heard another person’s shoes clacking up the concrete steps.  When she looked up, she saw William rushing up the stairs.  

Of course.  Because the day couldn’t just end.

“Aberdeen,” he said, approaching her and grasping onto her elbow gently, sending shockwaves throughout her body.  It didn’t even matter that she had her wool coat on.  He pulled her over to the side on one of the landings, a worried look on his face.  “Why’d you call my dad today?”

She shook her head.  She should have known Michael would also call William about it.  “It’s a long story.”

“Well, tell me now,” he said.  “I’ve been worried fucking sick since he called me to tell me and I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

“I just…I had to get a hold of Nicklas Lidstrom, and your dad helped,” she explained briefly, not really wanting to get into it.  She didn’t want William knowing how much of a fucking idiot she was and the reason why she had to do this seemingly impossible task in the first place.  “It’s all – it’s all fine.”

“So you’re okay?” William pressed.

“Yeah.  Fucking tired though.  Niklas is one busy guy,” she tried to make a joke.  William didn’t laugh.  She sighed.  “Can I just go home?”

“Why’d you have to get hold of Nick?” he asked, not able to let it go.

She sighed, bringing her hand up to rub her forehead.  “I made Brendan angry, okay?  I fucked up and I like, went into his house when I wasn’t supposed to and overheard a fight he was having with his daughter and then he saw me and—”

“Holy shit, Aberdeen.”

“Yeah, I know.  Believe me,” she said.  “I had to live through how much he didn’t like that today, alright?  You don’t have to tell me too.”

William could tell by the tone of her voice she didn’t want to talk about it.  “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked again, wanting, needing to make sure.  He even went so far as to reach out to grab her hand, though she pulled away before he could really get a good grip and lace his fingers with hers.

“Yes,” she said.  “I’m just tired, Will.  Can you please just let me go home?”

“Can I walk you home?”

With whatever backbone she had left in her after the day she’d just had, she shook her head.  “No, Will.  You should be going home to sleep.”

“But Aberdeen—”

“Goodnight, Will,” she said as she sidestepped away from him.  “Nice goal tonight, by the way,” she said as she looked back at him, descending down the stairs.  

***

December 4th, 2019

Lou and Aberdeen had been waiting in Brendan’s driveway for almost ten minutes.  He had never taken this long in the mornings ever since she began her job, and she was starting to get worried.  Was he already in the office and forgot to tell them?  Did he sleep in?  Brendan wasn’t one to sleep in.

“This ever happen before?” Aberdeen asked Lou.

“He’s probably looking for a sock or tie pin,” he joked.  

Her phone began to ring, and she saw his name flash across her screen.  “Good morning Mr. Shana—”

“Can you come in here quickly please?  Aaaargh!” he gruntled into the phone.  He sounded like he was moving something.

“Um…I’ll be right in,” she said, taking off her seatbelt and getting out of the car.  This had to be some sort of joke.  Just a few days ago he murdered her with his eyes for being in his house – now he wanted her inside?  She didn’t get it.  

When she shut the front door behind her, he must have heard her.  “Can you come downstairs, please?” he called out from the basement.  

“Is this some sort of sick joke?!” she called back, standing nervously in his foyer.  

“No – no, but I get why you’d ask that.  I can be an asshole, I know,” he kept calling out.  At least he admitted it out loud.  “I just need your help finding something!”

Against her better judgement, Aberdeen took off her winter boots and made her way into Brendan’s house, going down the stairs into the basement.  She saw Brendan kneeling on the floor in his suit, a bunch of boxes surrounding him.  “I need your help finding some of my old yearbooks.”

“Yearbooks?”

“Yes.  Can you check these boxes while I work on these?” he said, rummaging through the one in front of him.  

Aberdeen did as she was told, looking around the boxes for the apparent yearbooks he was so desperate to see this morning.  On her third box, she hit the jackpot.  “These?” she asked, lifting one up.

“Yes!” Brendan exclaimed excitedly.  She handed it to him.  “God, this is from St. Leo.”

Aberdeen perked up at that name.  “You went to St. Leo?”

“Yeah, why?”

Aberdeen couldn’t help but smile.  She couldn’t believe this was happening.  Of all the schools in Etobicoke – of all the Catholic schools in Etobicoke.  “My mom teaches grade one at St. Leo,” she revealed.  

“What!” he exclaimed excitedly, his eyes lighting up at the information.  “Oh man…I guess I never really did ask you about your family, huh?”

“You haven’t,” Aberdeen shook her head.  “But that’s okay.  I don’t…I like to keep them separate.  I don’t like bringing my work home.  Family stays family and work stays work.  That’s the way I like it.  No overlapping, because then things get complicated.”

“I get it,” Brendan nodded.  “That’s why I got so upset when I saw you in the house…I mean, I—"

“You don’t need to – I was being an idiot,” Aberdeen shook her head, trying to wave it off.

“No no – you deserve an explanation,” he said.  “This job is all encompassing.  Sometimes I forget that I should be on the beck and call of my children rather than the NHL head office,” he explained.  “Catherine did a lot of the parenting while I was playing, as you can imagine.  But when I retired, I made a promise to myself that I’d always be there for my kids.  That they would always know they were the priority instead of hockey.  Sometimes I break that promise.  And it breaks my heart when I do, because I don’t want my kids thinking that they’re not my first priority.  So that night, when Cate told me she had made the rowing team, and that she was trying to call me to tell me the good news, and I didn’t answer the phone – she got upset.  I got upset.  It was a horrible thing for me to do.  And then I saw you and you reminded me of work in that moment fighting with my daughter and it just – it all spiralled out of control.  Work didn’t become separate from family in that moment.  But I want to apologize, Aberdeen.”

“You don’t have to do that—”

“Yes, I do, Aberdeen.  I was being an asshole.  And I shouldn’t have punished you when all you were doing was your job.  So really – I’m sorry.”

Aberdeen didn’t know what to say.  It was so clear to her that Brendan loved his family and children more than anything, but she could understand how being president of the Toronto Maple Leafs could be all-encompassing.  She could understand how it took a lot out of a person – and how that person would want some quality time with family when they got home.  “Thank you,” she began awkwardly.  “But I must say, that wasn’t the first time I’ve done something stupid since moving downtown and getting this job.  And as my boss you know better than anyone – besides my mother – that it won’t be my last time.”

Brendan chuckled slightly at her words.  “I promise I’ll be nicer next time,” he quipped.  “So your mom wasn’t nervous or scared about you moving out and living downtown?” he asked.

Aberdeen snorted.  The notion to her was completely ridiculous.  “My mom grew up in Belfast and Derry during The Troubles – she’s not scared of shit.”

Brendan laughed out loud.  “A Belfast lass?  She’s like my mom, then.”

“Seriously?”

“Mhm,” Brendan nodded his head.  “Rosaleen.  Dad’s from Dunmanus in the Republic.”

“My mom’s family is originally from Aberdeen in Scotland.  Hence my name.  But my grandparents moved to Belfast before my mom was born because my grandpa got a job there.  Then to Derry,” she explained.

“So does your mom have an accent?”

“Oooooooh yeah,” Aberdeen nodded.  “She’s straight out of that show Derry Girls.  She moved to Canada when she was eighteen so the accent never left her.  There’s no way she could lose it.  I mean, she lived in Bogside in Derry.  Staunch Catholic.  Still goes to church every Sunday.”

“Do you?”

Aberdeen shook her head.  “My sister and I used to.  She’d drag us along, but we stopped in high school after our confirmation.  Still have the guilt though,” she joked.

“Ahhh, that good old Catholic guilt.  And your dad?”

“Dad’s Persian.”

Brendan looked at her skeptically.  Everybody always did when she told them her dad was Persian.  “Bloom isn’t a very Persian name.”

Aberdeen nodded.  “Yeah…it’s a long story,” she said.  Brendan’s look urged her to go on.  “My dad fled Tehran during the revolution.  His parents were university professors and after the political revolution came the cultural revolution.  They taught English literature and promoted a lot of Western texts so they knew they would be targeted.  They made him leave because they were scared the new government would target him, too.  He was only fourteen.”

“Fourteen?”

“Yeah.”

“H—How did he get out?”

Aberdeen shrugged.  “He walked.  Took buses and stuff.  His parents gave him money to pay traffickers to get him across borders.  They made him change his last name so he wouldn’t get caught.  Forged documents and everything.  He chose Bloom because of Leopold Bloom from Ulysses.”

“James Joyce.”

“Exactly,” she said.  “So he left and went Aleppo first.  All his documents were processed there – claimed refugee status, all that.  Then Canada finally accepted him, and he came over at eighteen as well.  Didn’t look back.”

Brendan was silent as he took in all the information.  “What happened to your grandparents?”

Aberdeen paused.  “When he first left, he would write them every week.  The letters back and forth would be sent through intricate channels and to friends of friends so it could get to each other and not be traced, because they were still scared.  It lasted for maybe a year, but then they stopped responding.  And he knew.”

Brendan stayed silent.  The information she’d just revealed to him was clearly hitting him hard.  And he knew nothing about it until now.  He realized there was a lot more to Aberdeen than he thought; a lot more to her than he led himself to believe.  He should have known better.  Everyone had a story, a family history within them that defined who they were and how they saw the world.  This was Aberdeen’s story; this was her family history that defined so many things about her.  “Your parents have been through a lot – the Troubles and a revolution.  That’s incredible.”

“Yeah,” she nodded her head.  “I think it’s part of what bonded them together.  They had similar experiences in that regard.  Like, my mom voluntarily left and went to university here because she was sick of all the violence at home.  She felt like it would never end, and she never went back to Northern Ireland until it did.  And my dad – well, he left kind of involuntarily, but he knew deep with him he had to leave Iran.  And when he finally got to Canada, he loved it.  He’s always told me and my siblings he never considered returning, and that he thanks his lucky stars every day that Canada accepted him.”

“Siblings?”

“Siena’s older – she’s in law school in Ottawa.  Then there’s the baby Camden.  He’s eleven.  Right now he wants to be an engineer.”

Brendan nodded his head.  “So then tell me something, Aberdeen,” he began.  “Who is it you want to be like?”

Aberdeen shrugged her shoulders.  “I just want to be the best version of me, really.”

“But there needs to be a person you look up to, career-wise,” Brendan pressed.

Aberdeen shrugged sheepishly.  She was almost embarrassed to say.  “Anna Wintour.”

“Pardon?”

“Anna Wintour,” she said more loudly this time.  

“Anna Wintour?” he asked, clearly shocked by her answer.  “Why Anna Wintour?”

“Well, for one, she’s incredibly stylish – that’s a given,” Aberdeen shrugged again.  “But it’s important.  Because regardless of how much people peddle that inner beauty is what counts, your first impression of someone isn’t of their inner beauty.  I’m not saying that’s a good thing, I’m just saying that’s the way it is.  So she’s stylish, and she presents herself well, but also…she got shit done.  She was an editor at magazines.  She’s changed the way we see fashion and how fashion influences us our everyday lives.  I know not a lot of people like her and I know she has her faults, but we all do.  She’s incredibly driven – even now when she’s perhaps one of the most iconic magazine editors in recent memory.  She’s never complacent.  She always strives for more.  She seeks out new designers to support.  She finds the best and promotes the best.  She never stops.”

“You mean she strives, she seeks, she finds, and doesn’t yield?” he chuckled slightly, referring to her tattoo.

“Exactly.”

“And you enjoy fashion?”

Aberdeen smiled.  “I enjoy it as much as an almost-broke-just-graduated-from-university person can,” she joked.  “It’s not really about the fashion.  I think I’m fashionable and can be fashionable given the opportunity but it’s not about that.  It’s about creativity.”

Brendan smiled knowingly.  “Creativity,” he repeated before pausing.  “You know Aberdeen, I wasn’t sure if you were going to be able to pull off the Nicklas Lidstrom thing,” he admitted.

“I know you didn’t.”

“You know, out of all the personal assistants I’ve had, you’re the only one that was able to pull something like that off,” he revealed.  “And not only that – you got Nick to come to the arena.”

Aberdeen shrugged her shoulders.  She didn’t know what he wanted her to say.  “I was just doing my job, Mr. Shanahan.  I was just doing what you told me to do.”

“Nah,” he shook his head, dismissing her words.  “You were creative in your approach.  You thought outside the box and you got it done.  You made the virtually impossible, possible.  Which, again, is more than I can say for all my other previous assistants.”  He paused again.  “You’ve got it in you, Aberdeen – the creativity.  You’ll be able to show it one day.”

“I hope so, Mr. Shanahan.”

“Brendan,” he corrected her.

After everything that was revealed between them, she finally felt like they were on the same page.  She let loose.  “I hope so, Brendan.”

#william nylander #william nylander imagine #william nylander fic #william nylander fan fic #toronto maple leafs #toronto maple leafs imagine #toronto maple leafs fic #toronto maple leafs fan fic #william nylander blurb #toronto maple leafs blurb #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl fan fic #nhl blurb #hockey #hockey imagine #hockey fic #hockey fan fic #hockey blurb #the president wears prada series

[simp-for-spencer-reid]

Fluffy Flavor Shot

Babysitting the Godsons

Series Masterlist

Cate was just finishing a shift at The Empty Mug when Spencer walked in through the glass doors. They had made plans earlier in the day to go for a walk through the park before the weather got too cold. Cate’s face lit with a smile when she saw the young doctor. He waited in line to get a chance to speak with Cate, not wanting to disrupt her. The line moved fairly quickly and he was at the register in a matter of minutes. 

“The usual?” Cate guessed as she grabbed a large hot cup. 

“Yeah,” Spencer smiled and toyed with the brown leather strap of his messenger bag. “Also, I need a rain check for our walk tonight.” Some tension in his shoulders released. “JJ needed a last minute sitter for Henry and Michael and I said I’d help out.”

“Sounds like you’ll have your hands full.” Cate said over her shoulder as she prepared his order. She met him at the pickup side of the counter. “Mind if I tag along?” Cate grinned hopefully. Spencer raised his eyebrows, pleasantly surprised. 

“Oh, sure!” he grabbed his coffee from Cate’s hands. “I could definitely use some help. Magic only entertains for so long.” he chuckled. With a final smile to Cate, Spencer took his favorite armchair in front of the chess board to pass the time while he waited for Cate. 

After flipping the sign on the glass door, Marta took the job of sweeping the shop so Cate could leave a bit early to go with Spencer to JJ’s house. They stopped at Cate’s apartment so she could change out of her work clothes and feed Shrimp. The orange cat was getting more comfortable around Spencer. Whenever Spencer sat on the couch, Shrimp was likely to be found by his side, laying down or using his paw to get attention from the doctor. 

Cate got her small backpack and filled it with some things she used to take babysitting when she was in high school: a book, some snacks, and her phone charger. She changed into some leggings and a t-shirt and some slip-on shoes, ready to hangout with some kids. Thinking about it made her miss her niece and nephew back at home. She made a mental note to call her sister soon. And her parents. 

“Ready!” Cate called as she walked into her living room. Shrimp was lying on his back, letting Spencer rub his belly. “What the hell?” Cate scoffed. “He never lets me do that!” Spencer looked up, amused.

“Cats have sensitive hair follicles located on their stomach region, so maybe you just over stimulate him?” Spencer asked. When he stood up, Shrimp flipped back on his feet and hopped off the couch, and went to the kitchen. Cate shook her head, laughing.

The pair made it to JJ’s just in time. The blonde opened the door and was surprised to see Cate, Spencer hadn’t mentioned bringing her, but brought her in for a quick hug all the same as she did to Spencer. 

“You guys are lifesavers!” JJ said as she led them to the kitchen. On the table was a handwritten list of notes about the boys and emergency contacts left for the previously planned babysitter. “They’re looking forward to dino nuggets for dinner, feel free to help yourselves to whatever is in the cabinets or the fridge.” Will popped his head in and greeted the two, before getting his shoes on. The boys filed into the kitchen shortly after, laughing and making dinosaur growls with figurines in their hands. “Thanks again, Spence!” JJ and Will were heading out the door as Spencer picked up the boys and greeted them. 

“You brought a girl!” Henry stated, shyly glancing at Cate from behind Spencer’s leg as Spencer had Michael on his hip. 

“I did.” Spencer carefully set Michael down, and squatted to meet the boy’s eye level. “This is my friend Cate.” He gestured to her. Michael eyed her up and down. Cate knelt down on JJ’s floor too, giving the boys a little wave. 

“Do you like dinosaurs?” Henry asked, stepping away from Spencer and towards Cate.

“I love dinosaurs!” Cate said excitedly. “Do you have any more dinosaur toys?” 

“Yes!” Michael shouted, running out of the kitchen to his room. His footsteps could be heard thumping up the stairs. 

“Follow me!” Henry added, taking off after his brother. Cate laughed and followed them, Spencer trailing behind her. 

“Okay and what is this one?” Henry quizzed Cate, holding up a figurine and looking at her intently. Cate glanced at Spencer sitting on the bed behind Henry’s shoulder. He mouthed the name of the dinosaur to her. 

“Hmm, let me think.” Cate watched him mouth it again, trying to read his lips. “Uhh, Practo..saurus?” Cate cringed as it fell from her lips. She knew she was wrong. Henry and Michael let out belly laughs at her answer. 

“No!” smiled Michael.

“Close,” said Henry. 

A couple dinosaur figurines later and some horridly mispronounced names, Cate and the two boys were sitting cross legged on their bedroom floor, Michael in Cate’s lap. They were watching wide-eyed at Spencer while he captivated them with card trick after card trick. Cate tried her best to watch as intently as possible, but the slight of hand was too good and she had no clue how he was able to guess their cards, or pull cards from behind their ears. Spencer even made coins disappear right before their eyes.

It grew later, and the four were settled on JJ’s couch, watching a movie about an animated dinosaur. Cate and Spencer were sitting next to each other, Henry on the other side of Spencer and Cate had her arms around Michael, who was gently snoring. Spencer had an arm on the back of the couch, behind Cate’s head. 

“Psst!” Cate quietly got Spencer’s attention. He pulled his eyes from the movie to look at her. His heart swelled at the sight of her cuddling his godson. “I have some candy in my backpack if you wanna share?” Cate whispered, not wanting to alert Henry, who was still awake. Spencer nodded, and reached around Henry to Cate’s small black backpack. He ruffled inside and pulled out some sour watermelon candies. Cate nodded, her eyes lighting up at the snack. “Want some?” she asked Spencer. He poured a little bit into his hand. 

Cate opened her mouth and glanced pointedly at Spencer’s hand. He picked up two and dropped them into her mouth. Cate happily chewed the sour candies. Spencer picked another two up and put them in his mouth, his face scrunching at the sour taste. Cate’s giggles alerted Henry, who saw the candy wrapper in Spencer’s hands. 

“My mom always shares her candy with me.” Henry said, eyeballing the sugary treat. Spencer glanced at Cate, who shrugged and nodded. Spencer poured a few watermelon shapes into Henry’s hands. 

“I want some!” Michael said through a yawn, climbing on Cate’s lap to get to Spencer’s hands that held the candy. He passed a few shapes to Michael warily. 

The decision to give the boys candy proved to be the wrong one as they zoomed through the house, chasing each other and laughing. JJ and Will returned to see the chaos ensue right before the boys’ bedtime. Taking off their coats, they sighed. 

“You gave the boys sugar before bed?” JJ shook her head at Spencer, trying to hide her smile.

“She did it!” Spencer pointed to Cate, who was sitting near the boys’ play kitchen in the living room, holding a bowl of pretend cheerios with a chicken leg on top and a bottle of ketchup for a drink.

“No I did not!” Cate gaped, but had a smile on her face. Spencer was sitting at a small plastic table with crayons and scribbled paper strewn over it. Now that JJ and Will were home, Cate and Spencer stood up, stretching their legs and getting ready to head out. Cate gathered her backpack and her sweatshirt, and put on her shoes. Spencer and JJ were exchanging goodbyes and Will was trying to settle the boys. As Spencer and Cate approached the door, Michael ran to them.

“Cate!” Michael grabbed Cate’s hand, getting her to stop from leaving. “This is for you.” He pushed a slightly wrinkled, scribbly drawing of a green circle, a blue circle, a red circle, and a purple circle with arms and legs. Surrounding them were some rough interpretations of dinosaurs and some pink and green wedges, which Cate recognized as the watermelon candies. 

“Is that a drawing of me?” Cate smiled at the child.

“It’s us!” Michael blushed. Cate brought a hand to her heart, kneeling to hug the little boy.

“I love it! Thank you!” Cate looked at the drawing once again. 

Spencer smiled at the interaction, his heart filling with warmth. Seeing Cate get along so well with his godsons and how much they loved her was something Spencer could witness forever. He walked her to her apartment door that night and couldn’t wipe the goofy smile from his face. 

Cate enjoyed herself just as much. She had such a good time that night, but it tugged at her heartstrings to think of her own niece and nephew living so far away. That night, Cate fell asleep fast and dreamt of a small brown haired boy with glasses too big for his face. He wore a miniature version of Spencer’s red cardigan and looked a bit like her dad and had Spencer’s smile.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #sugar with a side of coffee fanfic

[missionkitty]

[Image ID: a variety of digitally colored drawings of the original poster's original characters interacting with each other. one character is an extremely tall, muscular, heavier man with short, messy, dark hair with an undercut and the other is a shorter woman with dark, neck-length hair and brown skin. they are comforting each other, kissing, and the bottom drawing has the man sprawled awkwardly on a small couch, looking up at the woman as she looks back at him, concerned and holding a blanket. /End ID]

been sitting on this for a while and finally get to post it here haha...so for those of you who followed me for obey me stuff, i've kind of moved away from drawing it so much (still writing though, check out my ao3 lol) but i made my own beelzebub to go with my mc, who is now her own character

i talked a bit about it before, but i really wanted to make their own story so i can fit them in my other ocs' world and i've really come to love this idea ;o;

anyway, enjoy my beel and cate scribbles

#moonlight valley comic #artists on tumblr #original characters #original character #digital art #art #drawing #character design #demon #demon oc #my ocs #supernatural #supernatural creatures

[sweetiepie08]

RebelZ Chapter 6

Invader Zim fanfic

While analyzing Zim’s PAK for weaknesses, Tak discovers strange coding that sends her on a search for answers. The clues lead her to uncover a conspiracy that governs all of Irken society. When the truth sends her on the run, she has no choice but to return to the one place the Tallest would never willingly go: Urth.

Meanwhile, Dib has noticed odd changes in Zim’s behavior. Has the invader simply grown bored of his mission over the last few years, or is there something more interesting going on?

People who asked to be tagged: @incorrect-invader-zim , @messinwitheddie, @reblogstupids, @cate-r-gunn, @agentpinerulesall​

If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list feel free to message me. Also, if you’re on the tag list and you changed your name, please just let me know.

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7.  Chapter 8.  Chapter 9. Chapter 10.

[-]

Dib flipped through the streaming services, looking for something to watch. The documentary had ended, pizza had been eaten, and Gaz had gone upstairs to fix some emergency with one of her online gaming groups. He knew he had surveillance tapes waiting for him on his desk, (or worse, college applications) but he wasn’t ready to check up on them just yet. He was actually enjoying some downtime for once, and he didn’t want it to end.

Then, he heard the all-too-familiar sounds of an alien spaceship landing outside.

Nope, he thought as he hit play on whatever show he landed on. Didn’t matter what, so long as he could pretend he couldn’t hear what was going on in his driveway.

Some muffled arguing came from the front door, followed by the bell ringing. Dib turned up the volume. Not getting out of this chair.

Loud pounding began, accompanied by cries of “Dib-human! Open this door!” Dib turned the volume up as loud as it would go as the pounding continued.

“Jesus Christ, Dib!” Gaz shouted from upstairs. “Just answer the door!”

“Fine!” Dib shut off the tv and stalked to the front door. When he opened it, he found two Irken idiots.

Zim and Tak hung off each other and drank from plastic bottles while their robot pets bolted right in and made themselves at home. “Hey, you grew into your head,” Tak said, lazily pointing her claw at him.

“You know, Dib, there’s a lot of reasons to hate your planet,” Zim slurred, letting himself in. “You keep chihuahuas as pets, some of you refuse to inoculate against deadly diseases, and that Game of Thrones finale was garbage! But at least you don’t need identification to buy gingzor, and that almost makes up for it.” Zim punctuated his short rant by taking a long swig from his bottle.

“And look,” Tak said, pulling a box of ginger snaps out of a plastic shopping bag, “they had edibles.”

“Are you guys drunk? What is this?” Dib grabbed the bottle out of Zim’s hands. He checked the label, gave it a sniff, and took a small taste. Yup, it was exactly what the label said it was. “This is just ginger ale.”

“Eee-yup,” Zim said, swiping his bottle back. “Your light brews aren’t as potent as the ones we’ve got on Irk, but it gets the job done.”

“Wait, are you guys seriously telling me your species gets drunk off ginger?”

“Why?” Tak asked, shoving a cookie in her mouth. “What do humans consume when they want to forget the futility of existence?”

“Uh, alcohol, usually.”

The two Irkens locked eyes, then burst into laughter. “Seriously?” Tak squealed, wiping a tear from her eye. “That’s an antiseptic.”

“Humans really are stupid,” Zim agreed.

“Not that kind,” Dib grumbled, knowing he would be ignored. Then he felt his temper boil. “What are you two doing in my house?!”

“Oh yeah,” the two brushed past him and hopped on the couch like they owned the place. “We need to crash here for a while,” Zim explained. He turned on the tv, got blasted by an old episode of The Office, then turned the volume down.

“Why?”

“We uncovered a conspiracy behind the Irken empire and our government tried to kill us.”

“I discovered,” Tak corrected. “They just caught you harboring me.”

“Eh, details.”

“The point is,” Tak went on, “we’re both marked as traitors and we need to lay low for a while.”

Dib could have sworn his ears perked like a dog’s. An intergalactic conspiracy? There was a story here so juicy he could almost taste it. Still, as he watched the earth’s total Irken population spill ginger ale on the couch and grind crumbs into the cushions, the only question on his mind was, “why here?”

“Need your lab,” Zim tossed off as if it should have been obvious.

“So? Why don’t you go back to your base and use your own lab?”

“Can’t.” Zim took a teal cube out of his pocket and tossed it in Dib’s direction.

Dib caught it and brought it up to his eye to inspect. “What’s this?”

“My base.”

“Your whole base is in this?” Dib strained his eyes, looking at the cube. “What’s going on? How did this even happen?”

“How far back in Irken history do you want to go?” Tak asked, popping open a bottle.

“Wait, you mean you’re actually going to tell me?”

She gave a non-committal shrug. “Eh…”

“Hold on, wait right there.” Dib zipped upstairs to his room, grabbed a notebook, pen, and recorder, then zipped back down. He grabbed a chair, hit record, and poised his pen. “Let’s start at the beginning.”

[-]

Dib scribbled furiously, trying to keep up with Tak’s slurred ramblings. Zim interjected occasionally to add something or explain an Irken concept, but it was clear exactly who the conspiracy hunter was.

“So, anyway, that’s when I realized this parasite has been controlling our entire society for generations and, you know, it’s just a real buzzkill to find out you’re basically living food.”

“I see,” Dib said, making a note to ask about this library planet later (maybe get coordinates?). “And this parasite has been masquerading as the Control Brains.”

“Not ‘masquerading’ exactly,” she explained. “They always were the Control Brains.”

“And, just to make sure I got this, the Control brains are what, again?”

Before they could answer, he heard a loud “eh-he-eh-hm.” He looked over to see Gaz standing in the kitchen doorway. When he met her eyes, she curled one finger, ominously beckoning him over. “Uh, one second, guys.” He put down his pen and followed Gaz into the kitchen.

“Make this quick, Gaz,” he said, peaking back into the living room. “These two are giving me everything.”

“Okay then,” she said, her voice displaying her irritation. “Just answer me this: why are there two destructive aliens drinking like civil war amputee patients on our couch?”

“Revealing their government’s secrets, that’s what,” he answered with unbridled glee. “Turns out, ginger gets them drunk and when they’re drunk, they have no filter. They’ve been rambling on and on about their creepy big-brother-like society for an hour now. Look at all these notes.” He shoved the notebook in Gaz’s face and flipped furiously through the pages. “As long as I keep them drunk and happy, they’ll keep talking. Which reminds me…” He took out his wallet, grabbed a bill, and handed it to Gaz. “Go to the store and buy them out of ginger ale. We can’t let them sober up.”

“Five bucks?” Gaz said, wrinkling her nose. “I assume you’re planning on reimbursing me for the grocery bill later.”

“This isn’t about money, Gaz.”

“Then dig a little deeper, Scrooge. I know your part-time at Dad’s lab pays more than this.”

“And you make plenty off of your twitch gaming streams,” Dib argued. “Come on, this is about furthering human knowledge.”

Gaz raised her eyebrow in her ‘you’ve got to be kidding’ way. “You’re offering me $5 to drop everything, go to the store, and buy out their entire supply of ginger ale without reimbursing me for the bill.”

“Uh…yes?”

She scoffed. “Get a pulse.”

Dib pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed the corners of his eyes. Was she seriously arguing with him about money at a time like this? “Look, what if I give you an acknowledgement when I publish this baby? Like, say, in the forward?”

“You mean the part no one reads?”

“Uh…”

Gaz let out an exasperated huff and looked into the living room at the two Irkens. “So, they’ll really ramble on and on if you stuff them full of ginger, huh? About anything?”

“Yeah, pretty much. We managed to stay on topic so far. I mean, Zim did go on a tangent about the Game of Thrones finale, but we got back on track.”

Gaz smiled. “Did he, now? About what?”

“Something about Westeros crumbling as soon as the credits rolled. I don’t know. You watched that show, not me.”

“Hmm…” Gaz murmured, looking pointedly at Zim. Oh no, she was thinking… Worse! She was plotting!

“Gaz? What are you doing?”

She threw him a wicked smirk and sauntered into the living room. “Hey, Zim!” she called, clear as a bell. “That Game of Thrones finale sucked, right?”

“Don’t even get me started, Dib-sister!” Zim called back, slapping his hand on the couch. “Zim has never seen such a staggering drop in quality!”

Dib dropped his face into his hands. Was it too late to offer a twenty?”

[-]

“I guarantee Dorne and the Iron Islands rebelled as soon as they stepped out of the Dragon Pit.” Zim said, splashing ginger ale on the couch with every gesture. “I’ll bet they only voted ‘yes’ on Bran because this would be the easiest reign to overthrow.”

“Exactly!” Gaz said, slapping the arm of her chair. “Dany promised Yara independence two seasons ago. There’s no way she’s just going to watch him hand his sister a kingdom and not demand what’s owed to her.”

Dib twisted the notebook in his hands as he listened to them rant. They’d been at this since Gaz brought up the subject.

“And what was with them acting like Dany was in the wrong for executing Varys?” Zim added. “He tried to assassinate her!”

“As if Jon didn’t execute a child a few seasons ago for the same thing. And it was obvious that kid was coerced into it by the higher-ranking Night’s Watch men.” Gaz said. “You’ll notice Dany didn’t execute the child Varys manipulated into poisoning her. And he only thought she was ‘mad’ because she stopped listening to his shitty advice.”

“Their ‘advice’ lost her the Dornish forces, the Iron Fleet, and Highgarden’s armies,” Zim agreed.

“Plus another dragon and her best friend. And when she goes into mourning, he’s all ‘Welp, she’s clearly gone mad. Time to put her down like Old Yeller.’ Oh! And what was with Tyrion’s ‘everywhere she goes, evil men die’ speech? Like that’s a bad thing? Yeah, I know. That’s why I liked her.”

“You know wat she should have done?” Zim said. “She should have flown her three dragons to the Red Keep like she wanted to do last season. She could have taken the city with fewer casualties.”

Gaz nodded in agreement. “Maybe even no casualties if King’s Landing surrenders immediately.”

“Then she’d have all three dragons and all the armies in the Seven Kingdoms to fight the White Walkers with!” Zim added.

“Yeah, then maybe there’d be enough time to make the army of the dead live up to the hype! Nice Long Night. Lasted about six hours.”

“What is this show?” Tak asked. “I want to watch.”

“Enough!” Dib burst, jumping out of his seat. “Enough Game of Thrones! If you want to keep complaining, go on the internet and do it! Now can we please get back to you two spilling the secrets of your evil intergalactic empire!”

“There are no more secrets, human,” Tak snapped. “We’ve told all. The only other information I could find is on this.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a square, plastic information drive. “But this technology is too outdated to decode. So, unless you have access to an ancient computer…”

Dib took the square and held it up to his eyes. “This just looks like a floppy disc.”

“Really, Dib-beast?” Zim scoffed. “Your planet’s technology is antiquated, but it’s not that archaic.”

“Actually, that’s pretty outdated for us too,” Gaz said, “but our dad’s got a computer graveyard in the attic. Maybe we can get one of those to work.”

Tak regarded the disc suspiciously. “You’re serious? You think you might be able to get it to work.”

“It could be possible,” Dib answered, eyeballing the disc. It looked about the right size and shape. It may at least fit into the disc drive. “It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve gotten Irken and Earth technology to work together. It’s worth a shot.”

[-]

After about an hour and a few trips to the attic, they found an old monitor and hard drive they managed to turn on. As the computer booted up, they compared the Irken disc drive to a standard floppy disc. Dib was right. They seemed to match up.

“You really think this has a shot?” Tak asked again. She looked skeptical they whole time the were getting set up, but as the computer whirred to life, Dib thought he could detect a hint of hope in her voice.

“It could,” Gaz answered. “If the magnetic polarity is the same as we use on earth, the computer might be able to read the disc.”

Dib nodded along. While he was good with technology, his area of expertise was more on the engineering side. Gaz was the one with an affinity for coding.

Once the computer was ready, they popped in the drive. They all gathered around the monitor and held their breath. A buffering window popped up on the screen and they let out a collective gasp.

After a few minutes, the picture went black and green Irken text scrolled up across the screen, accompanied by, what sounded to Dib, like a series of chirps, clicks, and hisses. “Um, is it supposed to be making that-”

Tak and Zim threw a sharp hiss in his direction, then went back to staring intently at the screen. When Dib quieted and listened harder, he realized the sounds came from an organic voice and had a deliberate pattern. Holy shit, it’s reading the text! This is their language!

The voice stopped and the screen froze on another set of Irken symbols.

“Oh, my…” Zim choked out, eyes still glued to the screen. “We’ve got to write that down!”

“MiMi,” Tak commanded, “my tablet.”

“Wait, what was that?” Dib asked as he watched the two aliens scramble to scribble down the symbols on the screen. “Was that guy speaking Irken? What did they say?”

“Yes,” Zim answered. “And those are coordinates to the next place we need to go.”

“You mean, I need to go,” Tak cut in. “I’m the one who uncovered the conspiracy, remember?”

Zim scowled and stomped up to her, getting in her face. “You made this my problem when you crashed at my house, drank all my gingzor, and got my base cubified.”

“Why would I ever team up with you?” she shot back.

“I’m every bit as Irken as you are,” Zim argued. “I deserve answers as much as you.”

“Will someone please tell me what that thing said?” Dib shouted. The two stopped their bickering long enough to cast him an icy stare.

“Well,” Dib growled impatiently. If these two thought they were going to force their way into his home, spill ginger ale on his couch, tell him about an intergalactic conspiracy, and not let him in on the details, they had another thing coming.

“This doesn’t concern you, human,” Zim snapped.

“You two waltzed in here expecting me to hide you form your creepy totalitarian government and let you use my lab. Unless you want me to throw you out on your ass…”

“Fine, fine,” Tak said, waving an arm dismissively. “That voice claimed to be Krislotch. He confirmed that he left the clues that lead me to discover the truth about the Control Brains. He also claims more information is waiting on a planet at those coordinates. I must go there next if I want to solve this mystery.”

“We must go there,” Zim but in.

“This is my conspiracy, Zim,” Tak growled, turning back to him. “If there are more answered waiting on that planet, I will be the one to find them.”

“Oh yeah?” he said with a smirk. “How you gonna get there? I’m the only one with a working ship.”

“Dib’s got a ship,” Gaz chimed in. She turned to Tak. “Actually, I think it’s your ship.”

“You!” Before Dib could say anything, Tak had already jumped on the coffee table and grabbed his collar. “You have my ship?!”

“Uhh…”

“Take me to her!”

[-]

“wha-wha…WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!”

They group stood in the garage and stared at the collection of barely-held-together parts, also known as Tak’s ship. Dib had to admit, his last few forays into space hadn’t exactly been smooth sailing.

“It doesn’t look like this all the time,” he tried explaining. “I’ve gotten it to work. But, you know, sometimes things happen… and when they happen, I have to convince the ship to let me fix it again.”

“And why is she blue?”

“Um… I like blue?”

“Stupid human!” Tak spat, rushing up to her ship. “You have no idea what you’ve been toying with!”

“Fine,” Dib grumbled under his breath. “Only repaired it multiple times of the last six years but whatever…”

“Ship,” Tak commanded, laying a hand on the ship’s windshield. “Respond.”

“Biosignature detected,” the ship said as it began to light up. “You are Tak.”

“Yes, yes, ship! It’s me!” she cried. Dib could almost swear there were tears in her eyes.

“Hmpf, what took you so long?”

Tak looked taken aback. “I was, uh, had a lot going on, you know? Schemes and such?”

“And you never once thought to check in on your ship?”

“When I have to eject, I thought I’d lost you forever,” Tak explained, pressing both hands on the windshield. “I never wanted to leave you behind, but I’m here now. I can take you back.”

“Hey, wait a minute…” Dib protested. He started forward, but Gaz pulled him back.

“It’s her ship, dummy.”

“And how exactly did you get here?” Ship went on.

Tak hesitated. “Well, I…”

“I knew it,” Ship huffed. “You have a new ship now, don’t you?”

“It’s not like that,” Tak insisted. “Yes, I needed a new ship to get around, but I swear, it was a simple matter of transport. That ship means nothing to me. I would trade every other ship in the universe for you.”

The ship went quiet, as if thinking it over. Dib found himself oddly captivated, like when he’d accidently get sucked into his grandmother’s soap operas. He quickly shook himself out of it. This is ridiculous. She’s talking to a ship.

“I don’t know what to believe,” Ship finally said.

“I promise, Ship, I will fix you myself and, after that, I will never even look at another ship again.” She gently caressed its side and the engines purred.

“I will allow you to repair me, for now. After that, perhaps I can allow you to pilot me again, in time.”

Tak smiled and continued to pet her ship while it continued to purr. The scene was almost sweet until Zim decided to break it up.

“Well, well, well,” Zim said, a smug smile on his face, “looks like I’m the only one here with an operational ship.”

Tak only hissed in response.

“So, I guess I’ll be taking those coordinates and be on my way,” he continued, “unless someone wants to grovel for the chance to accompany me.”

Tak stomped up to Zim and unleashed a cavalcade of Irken at him. Dib wasn’t sure what she said, but if cricket/bat/snake could cuss someone out, he imagined it’d sound something like that.

“Okay,” Zim squeaked out, looking up at Tak who now towered over him. “I suppose I could let you come, but only because you asked so nicely.”

“I’m coming too,” Dib declared.

Tak and Zim both turned to him with questioning looks on their faces. “Uh, what?” Zim said.

“I’m coming. I want to see what’s on that planet, too.”

“This doesn’t concern you, human,” Tak spat.

“Excuse me? Who’s house are you two crashing at? Who’s ancient computer did you use to get those coordinates? And who’s been keeping your ship running while you’ve been got?”

“We don’t need-” Zim started, but Dib cut him off.

“Yes you do,” he shot back. “You need my lab to get your base working again. You said so yourself. And Tak, you need my garage and my tools if you’re going to fix your ship. If you want to stay here and use my equipment, to fix your stuff, you need to let me in on the conspiracy.”

The two Irkens looked at each other intently, as if holding a telepathic conversation. Dib briefly wondered if they could communicate semi-telepathically, or at least through pheromones. They did have antenna after all.

Finally, they broke their stare down and turned back to Dib. “Fine, the Dib can come,” Zim conceded.

Dib felt a jolt of excitement jump through his body. “Yeah, Gaz and I-”

“Nope,” Gaz said, turning on her heals and heading back inside.

Okay, so no Gaz. Aw well, he could at least count on her to cover for him while he’s gone. “I will get my space travel equipment and be ready to leave within the hour.”

“Yeah, fine, whatever,” Zim said, and he and Tak headed back inside as well. Dib went further into the garage and began preparing the things he’s need for the trip.

“You’re seriously going to let him come along?” Tak asked as they walked away.

“Eh,” Zim said with a shrug. “If the Dib-worm wants to come to a dead planet where total species-wide genocide took place, let him.”

Dib let the helmet he’d been holding clang to the floor. “Wait, what?”

#invader zim #invader zim fanfiction #invader zim fanfic #iz fanfic #iz #parasite au #iz parasite au #zim #dib #tak #gaz #gir #mimi #rebelz #rebel zim #rebel leader tak #tak ship #sweetiepie writes #sweetiepie fanfic #sweetiepie08 #sweetiepiewrites

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Steve//this moment will just be another story someday

hi! based off this song. we have a bi reader because i wanted it soooo. and i know it’s the middle of march but i don’t care because i worked hard on this and i’m sad. ps, if that song finishes before you’ve read all of this (or if you just want to listen to something else), i suggest listening to this 

The 4th of July is supposed to be a happy holiday celebrated by most of the American population. Fireworks are enjoyed by families, barbecues are frequented by friends and carnivals come into town to be enjoyed by everyone. Everyone is happy to be celebrating their independence, even though they were awarded it years ago, and even though the majority of Americans don’t really have their independence, they just pretend they do. 

However, in the dingy bar that Steve is sat in, the 4th of July feels like a foreign holiday. The place is barely lit, the only light source coming from a few overhead lights and the occasional end of a cigarette. The few people scattered around the place look like they either did all the partying when they were about 40 years younger, or they’re too drunk to celebrate. In some cases its both. The fireworks outside sound more like gunshots to Steve as he nurses his drink that he’s been staring at for the past hour. Despite the hot July weather of San Francisco, Steve feels cold, a chill finding its way up his spine as he looks at the clock. 11:23pm...at least there’s not long left of this dreaded holiday. 

When he was younger he used to love July 4th. All his cousins would come visit him and for a day he wouldn’t feel so alone in that big house. His father would actually acknowledge his presence, showing off what little accomplishments he’d achieved over the year in order to make the other adults jealous. And his mom would always let him have a sparkler once the sun had set. Usually his dad had gone to bed by then so it would just be him and his mom in the back garden, drawing patterns and writing words into the night sky. 

However, after the events of last years 4th of July, he has a feeling he’s never going to enjoy it again. 

He sighs and downs the last of his drink, ordering another from the old man at the bar who’s watching out the only window in the whole place. He nods and gives him a re-fill before sitting back on his stool. 

Steve starts to think about what he’d be doing right now if last year had gone different. If there had never been Russians under the mall, if he hadn’t fought for his life yet again. Would he still be in Hawkins? Working with Robin? Babysitting the party despite their protests of how ‘We’re too old for a babysitter’ and ‘You can just say we’re your friends’. 

Would his father still be disappointed in him? Something he’s grown used to over the years. Or would he have gone to work for him to make him just a little prouder. Maybe if it weren’t for all this demogorgon shit, he might have actually got into a college. Wait...no he wouldn’t have. Like his father said ‘the only sad excuse you have for this mess is yourself’. 

Maybe his mother would still look at him like he was her son and not a stranger. Who knows. But he sure as hell knows he’s been a lot happier here the other 313 days he’s been finding a new life for himself in San Francisco.

313.

It hasn’t seemed that long until he’s thought about it. He lasted 52 days after the events of Starcourt before it got too much. Too much had happened in that small town. The people he cared about had been hurt. The people he didn’t, had know clue. Taking their little lives for granted. He needed to get out. So he sold the majority of his stuff, used the savings he’d been clever enough to hide (thanks to Robin), packed his bag and drove. He drove without looking back. Well, he did three times. 

First he went to see Robin. To of course say goodbye, to tell her to be safe and if she needed anything to call him. He’d managed to find a cramped apartment in a semi-decent neighborhood before he left, so he scribbled the number down on a leftover napkin she’d brought home one day after a shift at Scoops and he smiled at the irony of the situation. 

Second he went to see Dustin. His mom was not pleased about being woken up in the middle of the night but when she say the pleading in his eyes she let him in. Too nice to have refused him anyway. She liked Steve, he was a good influence of Dustin. Dustin walked out into the living room sleepily after being woken by his mom. He rubbed his eyes as he rounded the corner, although as soon as he saw Steve he was wide awake. Steve explained what he was doing and how sorry he was that he was leaving but of course he understood. Was he upset? Definitely. But did he understand? More than anyone. So Steve also scribbled his new number down and passed it to him, along with a can of Farrah Fawcett spray, and when Mrs Henderson wasn’t looking he slipped him his nailed baseball bat out of his duffel bag. 

The third place he went was a surprise to himself. He didn’t know he was going there until he found himself parked outside. Hawkins Cemetery. The gates were closed but you could always jump over the fence round the back, thats usually how the weird kids got in so they could drink and try to talk to the dead. He navigated his way through the dark and three years ago he would have been silently shitting himself, however after all the stuff he’d saw there was nothing that really scared him anymore. He walked for a few minutes before finding his destination. 

‘Barbara Holland. 

In memory of our beloved daughter. 

She will not be forgotten.’

Steve’s fingers traced over the top of the gravestone delicately. The cold stone doesn’t affect him as he seems to get lost in his thoughts. He hadn’t been the best person to her. Laughed at her behind her back. Made snide comments in front of her face. He’d been an ass to her. And then she died in his pool, when everyone else was too busy trying to keep their popularity. She’d been forgotten, taken to the upside down where she would have stayed forever. She deserved more than that. And she deserves more than this. He places a single purple Hyacinth on her grave before shoving his hands in his pockets and walking away. 

He’s almost out of the graveyard when he spots something out of the corner of his eyes. The grave is fresher than the others, and its smaller, shoved right in the corner of the yard and he already knows who it belongs to before he gets there. 

‘Billy Hargrove 

Son. Brother. Friend’

Its a stark difference to Barbs, and just the sight of it makes Steve chuckle bitterly. He remembers overhearing Max telling the rest of the party during the wake that her and Susan had to persuade Neil into putting something more on that just his name. Yeah, Billy was a dick, but he deserved better. He deserved the chance at redemption. To become a better person and to prove his father and everyone else in his life wrong. He picks a few daisies from beside the grave and places them delicately on top of the stone. “See you later Hargrove.” He mumbles and he swears he can hear him laughing somewhere in the distance before he returns to his car and starts the long drive. 

“A little lost there?” Its like he’s just been woken up from a fever dream. A minute ago he was sat alone at the bar, and now there’s a woman around his age with y/h/c and bright y/e/c, staring at him like he holds all the secrets of the universe. 

“Huh?” He blinks at her, and three years ago he would have cursed himself for such a lame openly line, especially to a girl this pretty. But right now, he could be talking to Phoebe Cates herself and he wouldn’t give a damn. He just wants to be left alone to be sad and wallow in self pity about how awfull his life has turned out. 

“You looked kinda lost in your thoughts. You okay?” The girl asks, placing a delicate hand on his arm. 

“Yeah.” He shrugs her off. “Fine.” 

“You sure?” She asks and hands him a napkin, he stares at her blankly and she pushes it further towards him. “You look like you’ve been crying.” 

“Oh.” He quickly takes it from her and dabs at his eyes before scrunching it up and shoving it in his pocket. “Thanks.” He glances at her and forces a half smile before looking back at his drink. 

“I see you’re quite the talker.” You tease and sit beside him. He huffs in annoyance, but it doesn’t really seem to dampen your mood. Instead you call for the barman and ask for a drink, as well as whatever your ‘chatty’ friend wants, which after a few seconds figures is him. “So?” You ask once your drinks have been placed in front of you. “Thanks Billy.” You smile and his head rises. “Oooo, now we’re getting somewhere!” You do a little excited wiggle as you sip your drink and he looks at you bored. “Okay, so you either are a Billy.” 

“Pfft.” He scoffs and your eyebrows raise. 

“Okay. So you know a Billy.” 

“Knew.” He corrects. “I knew a Billy.” 

“Oh.” You frown and think for a few seconds. “So, were you friends and you left? Because you don’t sound like you’re from here.” 

“We weren’t friends, but yes I did leave.” 

“Where are you from? Wait!” You shush him before he even has a chance to answer, your finger is over his lips and he’s staring at you annoyed, but you don’t seem to care. “Okay, say something.” 

“I can’t.” His voice is muffled and you smile awkwardly before removing your finger, wiping it on his shirt. 

“Now say something.” 

“I’m from Hawkins, Indiana.” 

“Well, not that. But okay.” You roll your eyes. “Hey, isn’t that were all that freaky shit went down.” 

“Yep.” He grumbles and downs the rest of his first drink. 

“Cool.” You shrug. He mumbles something under his breath that you can’t quite catch but you decide to let it go. “So about this Billy guy? Friend? Lover?” Your voice gets quieter and he stares at you shocked. “Oh come on. You can tell me, this is San Francis-” 

“He’s dead.” 

“Oh.” 

“Happy now?” 

“Well, you see no. The death of people doesn’t really make me that happy. No matter if I knew them or not.” 

“Well sorry to disappoint you.” He huffs. 

“You know you can talk to me right?” 

“Why would I want to do that? You’re a complete stranger.” 

“Because sometimes talking to a stranger is the best thing. They don’t know you so they can’t judge you. All they can do is listen and sometimes give advice.” You reply and he stares at you stunned. “Plus, I have some time to kill, and I can’t imagine you have anything better to do, otherwise you wouldn’t be sat in here alone.” 

“Okay.” He nods. “I’m gonna tell you a story.” 

“Ooooo!” You grab your drink and get comfy. “What’s it about?” 

“A boy and a girl.” 

“Awwww.” 

“Not like that.” He cuts you off, effectively shutting you down. “Its kind or short, and kind of boring.” 

“Well, you’re really selling it.” You huff. “Is the ending at least good?” 

“Oh, its a whirl.” He replies and you can sense the sarcasm dripping off his statement. 

He stops for a moment to really think about what he’s going to do. He’s going to tell a complete stranger all the reasons he decided to move. He’s obviously not going to tell you everything, but still. And why was he being so mean? He’s tried for over three years to be a nice person, to get rid of the persona he carried around with him during high school, so why has it come back tonight? And why don’t you seem to care about how he’s treating you. And more importantly, who the hell are you? 

“Dude” You wave a hand in front of his face and he blinks before looking at you. “Your story?” 

“Oh, yeah. So they were just 16-ish, when I knew them. And people were so mean to both of them. The girl was bullied by assholes in school who had nothing better to do than bring people down to try and build themselves up.” 

“I hate people like that.” You spit.

“Yeah.” He nods, but refuses to make eye contact with you. “Me too.” 

“What about the boy? Who was mean to him? Was it the same people?” You ask, your eyes are wide with fear and Steve finds it quite endearing. He’s telling you about people you’ve never met before but you seem to care so much about them despite that. For all you know he could be making this shit up, but you still seem so invested. 

“No, the people, well person that was mean to him was closer to home.” 

“Who was it?” You lean towards him a little. 

“His dad.” 

“Dickhead.” 

“Yeahhh.” He agrees. 

“Well, what happened to them?” You ask. “Are they okay?” He almost doesn’t want to tell you. Or if he does, he wants to make up some bullshit about how they’re both happy, with people who love and appreciate them. Buts thats not how the world works, and maybe telling you that will be doing you a favour. You seem too happy. 

“No.” He shakes his head sadly. “They ended up not loving themselves, and now they’re gone.” 

“Gone how?” Your voice is quiet and unsure, and you’re not even sure you want to hear the answer. He looks at the sticky floor, taking a deep breath and he doesn’t even have to properly answer for you to know what he’s about to say. 

“Headstones on a lawn.” 

“Oh.” You sigh. “Did you know them well?” 

“Not as well as I should have.” There’s something else behind that statement. A huge amount of pain and grief is swirling behind his eyes, like a storm ready to destroy everything in its path. 

“What were their names?” 

“What will that do?” 

“They can’t be forgotten if people know their name. And I never forget a name...its my thing.” 

“Thats not a very good thing.” He replies and you see the hint of a smile hiding behind his frown. 

“Ouch.” You place a hand over your heart. “Whats your thing then? Wait!” You shush him again but this time he doesn’t seem to mind as much. “I bet in high school you did kegs!” You guess and he rolls his eyes. 

“Their names were Barbara Holland and Billy Hargrove.” He changes the subject and silence falls between the two of you. You vaguely recognized the names from the news. You remember your roommate saying something about knowing a girl called Heather that lived in the same town, apparently they’d been at summer camp once. They used to talk sometimes but after a while she stopped receiving letters. 

“Well, at least someone else knows about them. And I’m bound to tell someone about them. Like I said, I’m good with names...not so much keeping secrets so if you’ve met aliens or the bogeyman, don’t tell me.” You say, trying to lighten the mood and it seems to work a little. He chuckles softly and thats good enough for you, for now. “Anyway, that can’t be the end of the story.” 

“Why not?” He questions. 

“Because it was sad.” 

“What’s that got to do with anything?” 

“All stories end happily. If not, it just means you’re not at the end yet.” 

“Sure.” He raises and eyebrow. “But, if you must know, no, I’m not at the end. But believe me, this doesn’t end happily for anyone.” 

“Well then its not over yet.” You say quickly making him roll his eyes before taking a swig of his drink. 

“Back at home I know a boy and a boy.” 

“Riiiight.” You wiggle your eyebrows and he smiles softly. He thinks Robin would like you, you’re sweet and accepting and everything he wishes he could have been back home. 

“They were best friends with each other. Still are actually, despite some difficulties. But I always thought that at least one of them wanted more. They loved each other but never knew it.” He lowers his voice, the two of you are leaning into each other, your forehead’s practically touching. “I think they were always afraid of what people would say. Or even what the other would say. And now one of them has moved to a different state.”  

Your frown deepens as you stare at the floor, your feet swinging against the stool as you play with your hands. 

”That sucks.” 

“I told you it wasn’t happy.” 

“Well, then you’re not at the end of your story. And they’re not at the end of theirs. Love always catches up with you eventually. Thats just the way of the universe.” 

“Sure it is.” He scoffs. 

“Come on. I want a sequel!” Your drum your fingers against the bar while he stares at you. “Billy! Another round please.” 

“You haven’t even finished that one.” Steve replies and you quirk your eyebrows, a smirk appearing on your face before you stare right at him and down the rest of your drink. 

“Happy now?” 

“Well, you see no not really, because I’m not carrying you home.” 

“You’d be so lucky.” You tease and he giggles a little. “Come on.” You poke his arm. 

“Fine.” He throws his hands up. “The sequel. This one is about me and my friend.” 

“Ooo, yay! I want to know more about you mystery boy.” The nickname causes Steve’s cheeks to heat up and he’s kind of glad Robin isn’t here to tease him. “Now, is this friend a girl?” You rest your chin in your hand and he sighs dramatically, already knowing where you’re going with this. 

“Yes. But not like that.” Now he’s the one shushing you making you stare at him surprised. “I’m not her type.” 

“Okay.” You hold your hands up in defeat and he lower his finger, letting it drop to the bar. 

“Both our parents were evil.” 

“How?” You ask.

“My dad says I’m his biggest disappointment and my mom looks straight through me.” 

“I’m sorry.” You place a hand on his arm but this time he doesn’t shrug it off, he lets you keep it there for a few seconds. 

“Its fine. They’re both kind of right.” 

“I’m sure thats not true.” You start to disagree but he talks over you instead. 

“And my friends parents don’t agree with her lifestyle if you know what I mean?” 

“Yeahh. I get that.” You nod, and now its his turn to try and decipher your look. He also prays he hasn’t attracted another lesbian, as much as he loves and supports Robin, he doesn’t need another factor to add into the thought that maybe he isn’t destined to be loved. “I play for both teams if you want to know.” You whisper and he nods. 

“Cool. Whats that like?” 

“Not any different to ‘normal’.” You reply and he chuckles. “So you and you’re friend? Quick question, is she cute?” 

“Yes, she’s cute. And for a time I may have liked her.” 

“Ha!” You snort loudly and a bright blush creeps up your neck. 

“Do you want to know the rest of my story?” 

“Yes.” You stifle your laughter. “Please, go on.” 

“So, both of our parents were mean, so we made a bet. And if we worked and saved we cold run away to somewhere like here and we’d have a better life.” 

“And?” You smile brightly at him. 

“And?” 

“Did that happen? Are you meeting her here?” You look around the dark bar. 

“No.” He shakes his head. “I left early and she’s still there.” 

“Oh.” You sigh. “I’m sorry. Is she going to be coming here soon though?” 

“I don’t know.” He shakes his head. “Her parents are putting a lot of pressure on her to be everything but herself and sometimes I think she’s just going to give in. She’s been through so much and she’s so stubborn, but when I call her, she seems so broken and part of me thinks its because I left her alone.” 

“No.” You grab his hand. “Its not your fault. Listen, I don’t know her, and I don’t really know you but she’s going to be okay. She’s going to come to San Francisco...meet a cute girl.” You whisper the last bit and he smiles softly. “And you’re going to have a better life.” 

“And how do you know that?” 

“Because, like I said. You’re story isn’t over yet. Its just beginning. Kind of like a movie, and eventually everyone gets their happy end. Everyone does.” 

“Again, how do you know that?” 

“I don’t, not really. But if you don’t have hope then what’s the point. Just you wait and see.” 

“You’re idea of the world and my idea of the world are very different from each other.” He sighs. “Its not funny or pretty or sweet. Its full of assholes and monsters and shitty things.” 

“Maybe.” You nod. “But I like to see the good in the world. You just have to see the good...” 

“Steve.” 

“And we finally have a name!” You cheer. “Keep looking for the good Steve. You’ll find it eventually.” 

I think I’ve already found a bit. 

“This isn’t the end of your story. For all you know it could be the beginning. Now, what time is it?” 

“11:55?” He replies and relief washes over him. He’s made it through and nothing bad has happened. Not to him at least. And when he gets home he’s going to call the party, and Robin and maybe even his parents to see if they’re okay. But right now you’re talking to him and he has to tune back into the real world. “What?” 

“Do you want a sparkler?” You repeat your previous question just as Billy hands you some change. He blinks at you and your roll your eyes playfully before saying bye and then dragging him out of the dingy bar and into the bright street. 

Its empty, everyone is either with friends or family, in back gardens or at events. It seems everyone in the entire world has someone to celebrate with, everyone except him, and then he remembers. He’s not alone. Because you’re looking at him, a soft smile on your lips as you hand him a sparkler. 

“I do this every year.” You explain and light the end of his before doing the same to your own. “I write something that has pissed me off in the past year, and then when it disappears, its like I’ve let it go. Metaphorically of course. Its kind of like a second go at New Years, because lets face it, nobody is keeping their resolutions.” 

“Has that ever worked.” 

“No completely. But there’s always time...like I said, it’s not the end of the story yet.”

And while he stares at you writing whatever in the air, with a bright smile on your face, for the first time in a long time there’s a spark of hope. 

He thinks there could actually be a day when he enjoys July 4th again.

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #stranger things imagine