#The Attic on Eighth

[strayrockette]

My Sunshine Girl: A Healing Home

Masterlist❤️Previous Part

Summary: Having Benny around changes things for the better.

Themes: Family drama, underlying grief, and finding comfort in your favorite person

A/n: I didn't realize I was writing in first person and by the time I noticed I was already too deep in the process 🤷‍♀️LMK if you wanna be part of a taglist for this series, or for all my works!!

The weeks following the fight at the bar were a blur of quiet days and slow healing. Benny had told me to stay home until the bruises and scrapes faded, though he never really explained why I needed to lay low or how he planned to smooth things over with the cops. I didn’t press him on it. I trusted him enough to just listen, even if the silence that came with being cooped up sometimes felt too heavy to bear.

I called my uncle to let him know I was taking a few weeks off, spinning some story about needing to clear out the attic and sort through old boxes that had been collecting dust since my childhood. It wasn’t a lie, exactly; the attic had been long overdue for a cleanout. But what I hadn’t expected was how many old memories would come flooding back during those quiet weeks at home.

Some days, the house felt haunted by the past—pictures of my mom tucked away in forgotten corners, trinkets from a time when life felt simpler. I’d find my old pookie bear, the one my ma had made me, and all at once, the grief would hit me hard, like no time had passed at all. I’d crumble under the weight of it, tears streaming down my face, and Benny would be right there, no questions asked. He didn’t pry when I broke down, didn’t push for explanations. He just wrapped his arms around me, letting me cry it out until the storm passed.

He was my buffer, my anchor, the one constant in a sea of emotions I wasn’t always prepared to deal with. And even on the hardest days, he made it easier just by being there.

But it wasn’t all sadness. Sometimes, between the dusting and sorting, we’d stumble onto something that would break the tension and remind me that joy still had a place in this old house. Like the day Benny found my middle school diary—tucked away in a box of yearbooks and scribbled notes, full of awkward confessions and childhood crushes. I was mortified, scrambling to snatch it out of his hands as he held it above his head, flipping through the pages with a devilish grin.

“Number one: Mr. O’Connell, your eighth-grade math teacher? Really?” Benny read aloud, his tone dripping with mock horror as I jumped, trying and failing to grab the diary back.

“Oh my god, Benny, stop!” I begged, my face burning as I reached up, but he just laughed, lifting the diary higher, making a game out of it.

“You had a thing for math, huh? Or just guys with glasses?”

I groaned, mortified but unable to keep the smile off my face. “Give it back! I swear, I’ll—”

Benny kept reading, amused at my futile attempts. I shoved a nearby box over, using it as a makeshift step stool, only for it to collapse under me, sending me tumbling to the floor. The crash echoed through the attic, and for a second, everything went silent before Benny’s laughter broke the tension, deep and infectious.

I looked up, sprawled on the floor, and started laughing too, the kind of uncontrollable, belly-aching laughter that leaves you breathless and teary-eyed for all the right reasons. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed like that in this house.

We spent the rest of the day making new memories, each corner of the attic becoming less about the past and more about the here and now. Benny helped me pack away the old pain and fill the empty spaces with something lighter, something new. The house felt different by the end of those weeks, less like a museum of all the hurt I’d carried and more like a home that was ours.

Every time I looked at a corner that used to be filled with sadness, I felt gratitude instead—a quiet, blooming joy that wrapped itself around my heart. I wasn’t forgetting my mom or the pain we’d both gone through, but I was finding a way to make room for happiness too.

The midday sun streamed through the kitchen window, casting warm, golden light across the countertops as I moved around the stove. The smell of homemade tomato soup filled the air, mingling with the buttery aroma of the grilled cheese I was making for lunch. I knew Benny was supposed to be out the door over an hour ago, but here he was, his arms snug around my waist and his head resting comfortably on my shoulder. I could feel the soft, steady rhythm of his breathing against my back, his presence grounding me in a way that made the entire world feel right.

“Weren’t you supposed to leave an hour ago?” I whispered with a giggle as he kissed the sensitive spot on my neck, his lips lingering just long enough to make my skin tingle.

Benny hummed, his voice low and lazy, full of that warmth that always sent shivers down my spine. “You’re holding me hostage,” he murmured, nuzzling into my neck like he had all the time in the world.

I scoffed, flipping the sandwich in the pan, the bread sizzling as it turned a perfect golden brown. “I hope that’s not what you’re tellin’ the boys,” I teased, trying to keep the smile off my face as his kisses grew more persistent, more playful.

“They’d believe it,” he said, his lips brushing against my skin as he grinned. “You were a sight of fear for them that night.”

I nudged him gently, still caught off guard by the way he made me feel so seen, so known. “No way they fear me,” I said, laughing at the absurdity of it. The idea of those big, greasy, tattooed men being scared of someone like me was ridiculous. I was a lot of things, but intimidating wasn’t one of them—not to them, at least.

Benny chuckled softly, his voice a warm rumble that I felt all the way to my bones. “You were a force,” he said, and I could hear the pride mixed with amusement in his tone. “Five women tried to pull you off, and you broke through them—teeth, nails, and limbs flying everywhere. Like a little monkey.”

I gasped, feigning offense as I pushed him back playfully, though his hold on me didn’t loosen. “Rude!” I scolded, my cheeks warming as I turned the sandwich again, trying to focus on the task at hand despite the way his words made my heart race.

Benny laughed, the sound deep and peaceful, wrapping around me like a favorite song. “I never want to think about that night ever again,” I sighed, shaking my head at the memory. I’d gone to the bar looking for some fun, but it had turned into anything but that. “Eat your grilled cheese and leave me alone, Benny Cross. You’ve made enough rude comments for one day.”

He dipped lower, his lips brushing my cheek, then my jaw, peppering soft kisses along my skin until I was practically squirming from the attention. “I’m waiting,” he murmured, his voice smooth as honey, and I knew he was enjoying every second of this.

“Your plate was already made,” I said, my tone dripping with disbelief as I tried to keep my composure. I pointed to the counter where his sandwich and soup were sitting, perfectly plated and ready to eat. “Right there.”

“For you,” he whispered against my ear, his hands roaming my sides in a slow, soft caress that sent jolts of pleasure through me. He was relentless, every touch deliberate, every kiss a gentle tease that made it hard to think straight.

I bit down on the wave of heat that spread through me, refusing to give in completely. “If I hear someone make a comment about me keepin’ you hostage the next time I’m at the bar, I swear I’m chucking an 8-ball at ‘em,” I warned, trying to sound stern, but my voice came out breathless, betraying the effect he had on me.

Benny grinned, his lips brushing my ear as he whispered, “Let ‘em talk, Sunshine. You’ve got nothing to prove.” His hands continued their slow exploration, skimming over my hips and up my back, a mix of comfort and desire that made my knees weak. “Besides, I like being held hostage by you.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and free, bubbling up from somewhere deep inside me. “Yeah, well, you better behave,” I said, turning just enough to look at him, catching the mischievous glint in his eyes. “Or I might just let you go.”

He pulled me closer, his grip firm but tender, holding me in place as he looked down at me with that lazy, cocky smile I’d grown to love. “You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried,” he said, his voice low and rough, filled with something deeper than just teasing. “I’m right where I wanna be.”

I leaned into him, letting the warmth of his body and the comfort of his words wrap around me like a blanket. His stubble tickled along my neck with each kiss he placed. I shivered and inched away from him with a giggle, "At least let me finish plating my dish."

He grumbled as he stepped away, grabbed his plate, and moved to sit at the table. I glanced over my shoulder and found him staring intently at me, his eyes dark and.. "Oh my gosh, Benny, are you pouting??" I squealed, "I'm so telling-"

My teasing quietened as a rapid knock broke our moment. The knock wasn’t just loud—it was aggressive, rattling the walls with an urgency that made my heart jump. Benny stood up from the table, his easy smile fading as the tension in the air thickened. I watched as he walked to the door, his shoulders squared and ready for whatever trouble was waiting on the other side. I barely heard the door open before a booming voice echoed,

“Where is she?”

Uncle Harold boomed, his voice filling every corner of the room. Benny instantly stepped in front of him, his stance protective and his jaw clenched tight. I could feel the anger radiating off Harold in waves, each word landing like a blow.

“You need to back off, Harold,” Benny said, his voice edged with warning as he kept his body between me and my uncle. “You can’t just come in here like this.”

But Harold was past listening. He shoved Benny aside, his eyes searching the room until they found me, just as I stepped around the corner from the kitchen. I froze, the intensity of his glare pinning me in place. Benny quickly moved to close the door behind Aunt Gina and stepped in front of me, blocking my uncle’s line of sight. His broad back was a shield between me and the onslaught of Harold’s rage.

“What’s going on?” I asked, my voice shaky but defiant. I tried to look around Benny, but he held his ground, his presence a firm line of defense.

Harold’s face was twisted with anger, his fists clenched as he pointed at me. “You’ve got this boy living in your mama’s house!” he shouted, his voice cracking with emotion. “And I’ve got Old Man Harry telling me you’ve got a bunch of Vandals vouching that you weren’t in a fight when six women described you in detail!”

The words hit like a slap, the sheer force of his anger pressing down on me, but as his accusations rang out, something inside me snapped.

Benny glanced back at me, his eyes searching mine, but he didn’t move from his spot in front of me. He was there, steady and unflinching, even as the storm raged on. “Harold, you need to calm down,” Benny said, his voice low and tense. “She doesn’t need this from you.”

I stepped around Benny, frustration boiling over. “DO YOU EVEN HEAR YOURSELF RIGHT NOW?” I yelled, my voice trembling with fury and years of bottled-up hurt. “You used to be a biker too! You still have your bike! You know what that life is like!”

“That’s different,” Uncle Harold snapped, his anger flaring again as he tried to reel himself back, but I wasn’t about to let him off that easy.

“No, it’s not!” I shot back, my voice breaking. “When you met Aunt Gigi, you’d just gotten out of jail! She still gave you a chance. She saw something in you that no one else did. How is it any different for me and Benny?”

Harold’s face tightened, his anger battling with the guilt that flickered briefly in his eyes. “It’s different because your mama made me promise,” he said, his voice straining, shaking with unspoken grief. “She made me promise that I’d protect you. I gave her my word that I’d be the father you needed.”

Pain gripped my chest, sharp and unforgiving. My throat tightened as I tried to hold back the emotions that threatened to swallow me whole. “Don’t bring her into this!” I shouted, my voice cracking under the weight of it all. The mention of my mom felt like a knife, twisting deep. The hurt was suffocating, choking me with memories of promises I never asked for.

Harold’s face contorted with pain and fury, his voice shaking as he continued. “You’re running around with this boy, getting into trouble, doing things you shouldn’t. You aren’t the little girl we raised.”

I took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to steady myself, but the grief and anger were a tidal wave, pulling me under. I tried to step around Benny, desperate to confront my uncle face-to-face, but Benny’s arm shot out, his hand gently tucking me behind him. His body was a shield, protecting me even when I was ready to charge headfirst into the fire.

“Harold, enough,” Benny said, his voice like steel, unyielding and protective. “You don’t get to judge her. You don’t get to make her feel small.”

I peeked around Benny, the tears burning in my eyes as I stared at my uncle. “You never knew me,” I said, my voice cracking with the raw truth I’d kept buried for years. “Because the little girl you raised was broken, scared and angry. You never saw that, did you? You never saw how hard it was to keep it together, how much I was hurting.”

The room was thick with tension, the air heavy with the weight of unspoken pain. Aunt Gina stepped closer, her face etched with sadness as she watched me unravel. “Sunny, we’re just trying to help,” she said softly, her voice a calm presence amidst the chaos. “We love you. We don’t want to see you get hurt.”

But I was too far gone, too tangled up in my own grief and anger to let the words soothe me. “I know you love me,” I said, my voice trembling as I fought to keep control. “But you don’t get to decide what’s best for me anymore. You don’t get to come in here and throw around all your guilt and promises like they’re weapons.”

Harold’s face fell, the anger draining away, leaving only the hollow ache of regret. His shoulders sagged, and for the first time, he looked at me not with fury, but with a kind of desperate sorrow. “I’m scared, Sunny,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared I’m failing her. Failing you. I don’t want to lose you.”

The admission hit me harder than any of his accusations. I could see the guilt and fear that mirrored my own, the weight of promises made in grief and love and uncertainty. But this wasn’t just about him, and it wasn’t about my mom. It was about me.

I took a shaky step forward, Benny’s hand still resting on my shoulder, grounding me. “You’re not failing me,” I said, my voice softening as the anger ebbed away, replaced by something gentler. “But you’ve got to let me live. You’ve got to trust me to make my own choices, even if they’re messy.”

Aunt Gina reached out, squeezing Harold’s arm, her touch a quiet anchor pulling him back. She looked at me, her eyes filled with a sadness that was heavy and old, and nodded slowly. “We just want you to be happy,” she said, her voice choked with the weight of everything left unsaid.

“I am happy,” I whispered, looking up at Benny, who watched me with those steady eyes that had been my rock through it all. “Because I’m finally living for me.”

Uncle Harolds expression softened, the lines of his face deepening as he looked at me, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his own failures. “Forgive me,” he murmured, his voice breaking with raw vulnerability. It wasn’t just an apology for tonight, but for everything—for every time he’d let his anger and grief overshadow his love for me.

Harold bowed his head, the pain etched deep into his features, and without another word, he turned away, his broad, hulking figure seeming smaller, more fragile as he walked toward the door. He moved slowly, like he was dragging the weight of the world behind him, every step heavy with the sorrow of a man who’d tried to do right but hadn’t always known how.

Aunt Gina lingered for a moment, her eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and quiet reassurance. She reached out, squeezing my arm gently, her touch warm and grounding. “We’re still here, Sunny,” she said softly, her voice laced with a kind of fierce love that made my chest ache. “No matter what, we’re still here for you.”

I nodded, feeling the sting of tears that I refused to let fall. “I know,” I whispered, my voice catching as I met her gaze. “Thank you.”

Gina gave me a soft, reassuring smile, the kind that spoke of years of shared memories, both good and bad. She glanced at Benny, her expression shifting to something like cautious hope, and then back at me, her eyes full of unspoken promises. She turned to follow Harold, her footsteps light but purposeful, and with one last look, she stepped through the door, closing it softly behind her.

With the door closed and my aunt and uncle finally gone, the weight of their words hung heavy in the air, settling deep into my bones. The playfulness of our earlier mood had completely vanished, replaced by something darker and more somber. I stood in the middle of the room, feeling lost, unsure of what to do with myself as the emotional turmoil that always seemed to follow me crept back in. I had thought I’d managed to escape it these past few weeks, hiding in the warmth of Benny’s company, but now it was back, clawing at me with a vengeance.

I sniffed, trying to swallow down the lump in my throat, the familiar sting of tears threatening to break free again. “I need a nap,” I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at Benny, my gaze fixed on the stairs as I rushed past him, desperate to get away, to hide from the flood of emotions crashing over me.

I stumbled into the bedroom, shutting the door behind me and collapsing onto the bed. I curled up into a tight ball, pulling the blankets around me as if they could shield me from everything swirling inside my head. My uncle’s voice echoed, relentless and unforgiving, each word like a dagger twisting deeper. ‘I promised your ma I’d take care of you.’ The guilt, the pressure, the overwhelming sense of being a disappointment—it all wrapped around me, suffocating and relentless.

I buried my face into the pillow, my chest tightening with each shaky breath as I tried to keep it together. But it was no use. The tears came anyway, hot and uncontrollable, spilling over as I silently sobbed into the fabric. The pain of my past, the weight of everyone’s expectations—it was too much. All the anger, the sadness, and the unresolved grief came rushing back, drowning me in a wave of emotions I didn’t know how to handle.

I didn’t hear Benny come in, but I felt the bed dip as he sat beside me, his presence a quiet, grounding force that I hadn’t realized I was desperate for. He didn’t say anything, didn’t ask me to talk or try to pry me open. He simply wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close, his body fitting around mine like a protective shield. I felt his head nestle into the crook of my neck, his breath warm and steady against my skin.

He didn’t let go, didn’t pull back when I tensed, just held me tighter, his arms firm and unyielding. Benny’s embrace was like an anchor, something solid and real in the middle of my storm. His touch was gentle, each stroke of his thumb against my shoulder a silent reassurance that I wasn’t alone, that I didn’t have to carry all of this by myself. I felt the trembling in my body start to ease, the frantic beating of my heart slowly matching the calm, even rhythm of his.

Benny’s presence was more than just comforting; it was life-saving. He grounded me in a way that nothing else could, pulling me back from the edge of my own despair. The panic, the guilt, all the things I kept locked away—they didn’t feel so unbearable with him there, holding me through it. I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into the warmth of his embrace, feeling the tension slowly begin to drain from my muscles.

He kissed my shoulder softly, his lips brushing against my skin in a gesture so gentle it almost broke me all over again. I felt the tears well up once more, but this time they were softer, less frantic, as if Benny’s presence was slowly unwinding the tight knot of pain inside me. I turned slightly, pressing my face into his chest, breathing him in—the scent of leather, smoke, and something uniquely his that always made me feel safe.

“I’ve got you,” Benny whispered, his voice low and hushed, like a secret meant only for me. His hand moved up to cup the back of my head, his fingers threading through my hair as he held me close. “You’re not alone. I’m right here.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, the words breaking through my defenses in a way that nothing else had. Benny didn’t try to fix me, didn’t pretend that he could make everything better, and that was exactly what I needed. He was just there, unconditionally, holding me as I broke down, no judgment, no expectations—just a quiet, unwavering support that made me feel like maybe I could keep going, even when everything felt impossible.

I pulled back just enough to look up at him, my eyes puffy and wet, but his gaze was soft and full of something that made my heart ache. I saw the way he looked at me—not with pity, but with an understanding that went deeper than words. He brushed his thumb across my cheek, wiping away the last of my tears, and I felt the flood of emotion rise up again, but this time it was different, warmer.

“I love you,” I whispered, the confession spilling out before I could second-guess it. It was raw and unguarded, the truth laid bare in the quiet space between us. For the first time, it didn’t feel scary to say. It felt right.

Benny’s face softened, and a smile tugged at his lips, gentle and filled with a quiet joy that made my heart flutter. He leaned in, pressing his forehead against mine, his eyes closing as he let the words sink in. “I love you, too,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “More than you know.”

I melted into him, my arms wrapping around his neck as he held me tighter, his embrace a sanctuary from the world outside. The chaos, the pain, my uncle’s harsh words—they all faded into the background, replaced by the steady, calming presence of Benny beside me. I buried my face against his chest, letting myself be small and vulnerable, knowing that with Benny, I didn’t have to be anything but myself.

Taglist: @storiesfromafan@aleemendoza2425-blog , @preciouslilmonster , @iamaslytherin0

[sodapop-hospice]

So here’s the council 💖

Not depicted are my five (?) Furby buddies, my 2023 furbling, and my forty-ish McDonald’s furbs. I don’t count them when taking family photos because fuck that. Moving nearly 67 furbies is painful as is.

Below is a list of all of their names, pronouns, and model names. Enjoy ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

———————————————————————

First Row

❤️Zara (she/her) - Dalmatian

🧡Luxury “Lux” (she/her) - Champagne

💛Cruft (he/him) - Silver Millenium

💚Lotus (he/they) - Elephant

💙Hyacinth (she/her) - Elephant

💜Askew (he/they) - Tiger

❤️Wren (they/them) - Dalmatian

———————————————————————

Second Row

🧡Crush (he/him) - Leopard

💛Celsius (he/him) - Husky

💚Fenti (she/her) - Snow Leopard

💙Birch (he/him) - Zebra

💜Jolt (she/they/it) - Koala

❤️Honeydew “Honey” (she/her) - Coffee

———————————————————————

Third Row

🧡Cider (she/her) - Autumn

💛Faygo (she/they) - Ladybug

💚Lottery “Lotty” (they/she) - Kiwi

💙Fanta (she/her) - Rooster

💜Moth (she/her) - Wizard

❤️Sodapop (he/it/they) - Ladybug

🧡Brew (he/him) - Autumn

———————————————————————

Fourth Row

💛Spry (he/him) - Dalmatian

💚Salud (she/they) - Flower Bud Baby

💙Niro (they/them) - Primary Baby

💜Sprocket (he/him) - Spring Baby

❤️Sucrose (he/him) - Confetti Baby

🧡Pluto (he/him) - Minty Baby

💛Gauze 2 (they/he) - Witch’s Cat

———————————————————————

Fifth Row

💚Mayday (she/they) - Skunk

💙Coal (he/him) - Santa

💜Deetz (she/it/they) - Church Mouse

❤️Blitzen “Blitz” (he/him) - Reindeer

🧡Punch (they/he/she) - Flamingo

💛Helvetica (she/her) - Santa

💚Chad (he/him) - Tropical

———————————————————————

Sixth Row

💙Gumshoe (he/him) - Witch’s Cat

💜Threat (he/him) - Pink Baby

❤️Lune (she/star/bun/moon) - Peachy Baby

🧡Bee (he/him) - Blue Baby

💛Gloom (they/them) - Spring Time Baby

💚Osteo (he/him) - Snowball Baby

💙Lovelace “Vel” (she/they/he) - Dalmatian

———————————————————————

Seventh Row

💜”Baabu” (???) - Blue Baby

❤️Sugar (she/her) - Leopard

🧡Vinyl (she/they) - Racer

💛Sweet Tart “Sweetie” (they/she) - Tie-Dye

💚Rico (he/him) - Spring

💙Cream (she/her) - Snowball

💜Bierce (they/them) - Easter

❤️Carrion (he/him) - Snowball Baby

———————————————————————

Eighth Row

🧡Shea (she/her) - Gorilla

💛Sumo/Paradise (she/her) - Skunk

💚Kujo (he/him) - Church Mouse

💙Pepsi “Bepis” (she/her) - Wavy Stripes Baby

💜Ferris (she/they/he) - Dalmatian

❤️Attic (he/him) - Grey Wolf

🧡Ribbit “Ribb” (they/them) - Frog

———————————————————————

Ninth Row

💛Gambit (he/him) - Snowball Baby

💚Faun (he/him) - Bear

💙Bottle (he/they) - Giraffe

💜Micheal (he/him) - Lizard

❤️Lotion (he/him) - Giraffe

🧡Coriander “Cori” (he/him) - Cheetah

💛Fortune (he/him) - Giraffe

💚Cryptid (they/it) - Very Purple Baby

———————————————————————

Not Depicted ( only 1998 mechanical furbies)

💙Spree (she/her) - Gorilla

💜Dusk (he/him) - Church Mouse

❤️Gauze 1 (???) - Witch’s Cat

———————————————————————

And finally, here’s the previous photo I took next to the current one. Clearly I’ve been on my custom grind in the past few months 😅‼️

[lincolndjarin]

my sister lives in the attic.

main masterlist

joel miller x reader

warnings : angst, death, child loss, grieving, denial

a/n : i've never written something like this but i'm in a weird place and this idea has been following me for quite some time now so i decided to take a few minutes and write it, i'd love some feedback on it since this style is kinda new to me !!

He didn’t like to talk about his children. 

“Do you have kids?”

“Two daughters.” Was all he said.

That’s what he had told you on your first date. He was so abrupt about it that you didn’t ask about them again, instead opting to wait until he told you on his own terms. 

On your fifth date he told you that Ellie got in trouble for cursing in gym class that day. 

On your seventh date he told you Sarah was away at college, and that he missed her terribly and wished she would visit. 

On your eighth date he told you that Ellie made him a card for his birthday. He even brought it over to your house to show you. It was a drawing of the two of them floating through space. The inside said:

i love our family to the moon and back!

You didn’t ask why Sarah wasn’t included in the crayon family portrait. 

On your ninth date he showed you the photos in his wallet. A baby girl with her curly dark hair up in two little buns sitting in the sand. The one below it was a girl who looked to be about five, giving the camera a toothy grin, standing next to Joel in a courthouse, holding up her adoption papers. 

On your twelfth date he finally invited you over for dinner, you happily accepted. 

Joel introduced you to an extremely energetic seven year old. He gave you a tour of the house (only the first floor.) and you smiled at every family photo hung on the walls.

“I invited Sarah but she couldn’t make it, she’s got midterms but I’m sure you’ll meet her soon.” He tells you before leaving you with Ellie, going to pick up a pizza for the three of you. 

Ellie tells you about school, about her best friend Riley, and about playing soccer in the backyard with her father. 

And then she says the strangest thing. 

“My sister lives in the attic.”

“Excuse me?” You had given her a confused smile but she carried on as if it was the most normal thing in the world. 

“My sister, Sarah, lives in the attic.” She said it so plainly. Taking your hand and dragging you up the stairs, pointing up at a staircase on the second story that led to a singular door, pink paint peeling from it with little wooden letters spelling out SARAH, the sight of it put you on edge. 

“We shouldn’t go up there honey, let’s wait until your father gets back.” You had put up a bit of resistance but she ran ahead of you, you watched helplessly from the bottom of the stairs as Ellie pushed open the door and ran inside. 

“It’s okay, dad says I can talk to Sarah whenever I want as long as I don’t touch her stuff.” She had shouted, already inside. Despite every nerve in your body singing for you to go back downstairs and wait, you knew better than to leave a child alone so you climbed the steps and entered the room. 

Nothing strange, nothing frightening, no secret nightmare. 

When you look around all you see is a room, albeit a child's room but a room nonetheless. 

Ellie sits in a love seat, suddenly repeating everything she told you about her day to seemingly no one as she stares at Sarah’s bookshelf. You walk around, trying to recall when Joel said she left for college. Everything is covered in a thick layer of dust but strangest of all this is clearly not a teenager's room. 

This is a childs room, for a girl about Ellie’s age. Every photo on her desk doesn’t show her older than what looks to be twelve. 

“Ellie, honey, when you said your sister lived in the atti-'' She doesn’t stop talking from behind you, ignoring you entirely but her words stop you dead in your tracks. 

“Dad keeps saying you’re coming home for Christmas but he also said you’d be home for his birthday, he keeps telling me how much we’re gonna get along but I just tell him we already get along fine.” 

It sends a chill up your spine, you aren’t superstitious but in a moment of weakness when you turn a part of you almost expects to see a ghost.

Of course that isn’t the case.  

When you look Ellie remains in the loveseat, seemingly the only thing that isn’t covered in dust up here. Her eyes trained on the highest shelf, when you follow her line of sight all of it starts to make sense. The shelf is covered in books and toys and trinkets, all of which are showing signs of age and disuse but the top shelf is neat and tidy, it even looks recently dusted. 

Only two things are on the top shelf. 

A beer bottle with the label ripped off, a lilac sits within it, a few stray petals lay in a halo around the makeshift vase. 

And a dark purple urn. 

You struggle to swallow the lump in your throat, unable to tear your eyes from it. 

“One time Uncle Tommy told me she was an angel.” She whispers when you stare in silence for far too long. “Dad got so mad we didn’t see Tommy for like a month after that and when we did see him again everything went back to normal.”

“What happened to her?” You can’t stop yourself from asking, she only shrugs in response.

“It was before I lived here, I never ask, I’m worried he’ll send me to live with Uncle Tommy if I do.” 

“Oh, honey.” You crouch down beside her, she hugs her knees to her chest. “He wouldn’t do that.” 

“I’m still not gonna ask. He doesn’t talk about her that much, only when someone else brings it up or if I ask to come up here to see her.” You nod slowly before holding your arms out to her, she wraps herself around you and you carry her to the door, eager to leave the tomb you’ve stumbled upon. “Bye Sarah.” She mumbled against your shoulder as you closed the door, the sentiment sent shivers down your spine. 

When Joel returns with the food it’s as if you never were in the attic at all.

Ellie runs to him, wrapping herself around his leg as he laughs, trying to kick her loose. 

When the three of you sit down for dinner she never says a thing to him about any of it. 

She asks if she can go to her friends house after dinner, their mom is going to take them to the arcade, Joel grins at you, asking if she was good while he was gone and you put on a smile, nodding. 

“Then you can go.” He ruffled her hair before she ran off to get her backpack. When it was just the two of you he took your hand, mentioning something about catching a movie while she’s gone, you nodded absentmindedly when he gave your hand a gentle squeeze you finally looked him in the eye. 

You’d never noticed it before but there is a permanent sorrow behind the dark expanse of his irises, as if he’s never really happy, he’s sometimes just less sad. “Everything okay?” He asked. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” 

You don’t bring up the attic at the dinner table.

Or in the car.

Or at the movies. 

He just needs time, you tell yourself. Maybe he’ll tell you on your thirteenth date, maybe it won’t be until your hundredth date. Until then you won’t tell him that you know who lives in the attic and you’ll nod with faux disappointment when he says that his eldest won’t be home for the holidays this year. 

And you’ll take extra care of him on days when he comes home with fresh lilacs.

a/n : yeah so uhhhhhhhhhh tell me how y'all liked this haha idk if i'll write anything like this again it was just sort of something for me to vent with, hope everyones having a good day and thank y'all for reading <3

[brokenstar28]

Hide And Seek

The Bat-fam decides to play Hide And Seek.

First round: Dick.

6th place Steph: Behind the Grandfather clock in the living room.

5th place Duke: Eighth bathroom on the second floor.

4th place Jason: Second library. He was reading.

3rd place Tim: Behind the bookshelf in the second library. He was asleep.

2nd place Cass: On top of a bookshelf in Bruce's study behind a large painting. Took 3 hours to find.

1st place (They didn't find him) Damian: He was in the secret passageways in the walls that only he could fit in. He totally has a secret base there with snacks and a TV and everything.

Second round: Steph.

6th place Jason: First library this time. Still reading.

5th place Dick: Chandelier in the second ballroom. he's just... chilling.

4th place Duke: Fifth bathroom on the first floor .

3rd place Cass: She is in the rafters in the dining room. (how she got there? None of my personalities know!)

2nd place Tim: In Steph's room under the bed. (cliche much?)

1st place (Again) Damian: In the walls again (How does he get in there? I don't know. Neither do my imaginary friends.)

Third round: Jason.

6th place Tim: He fell asleep on the stairs.

5th place Duke: First bathroom second floor.

4th place Steph: Cass's bedroom in the closet.

3rd place Cass: Steph's bedroom in the closet .

2nd place Dick: After five hours he left his hiding spot in the secret attic no one knew about thinking he won. He did not.

1st place Damian: (They just never find his hiding spot so he wins every time just because he is my favorite) he stayed hidden for two days and people genuinely thought he was dead until he showed up and pretended nothing had happened.

Hide And Seek is now banned.

Should I do the Floor Is Lava or Never Have I Ever next?

[operationtimeguard]

sable ward lore

Sable figured she had to be adopted. No way was she the progeny of her insanely perky mom and her grinning, golf-playing, frat boy of a dad. They didn’t understand the first thing about her. No one in Greenvile did. Except for Mikaela. They were fast friends since third grade. Up until then Sable had no friends. She wasn’t into ponies or dolls or tea parties with teddy bears. She liked bugs, lizards riding bikes and dirt cloc fights.Her favorite holiday was Halloween and Mikaela was the only one who didn't think she was crazy when she dyed her hair purple in eighth grade. Sable's mom was furious. Her dad didn't even notice. Mikaela went with her to the mall when she got her ears pierced and helped her pick out her first tattoo. An occult symbol hidden in a place her parents would never see. Mikaela declined to get her own tattoo. She flirted with the dark side, but she didn't live it. Not like Sable. The dark side made sense to Sable, and she reveled in it. Partly because it freaked out her parents and teachers. Partly because it felt like who she was. Some called her a goth because of the way she presented herself. But she wasn't into labels. She loved horror movies and found the occult exciting. It made sense to her. She knew that the shiny suburban world of her mom and dad had a dark underbelly. They were afraid to confront their fear, so they pretended everything was perfect and that they would live forever. But Sable knew better. Death stalked us all and no one was getting out alive.

Mikaela got Sable a job at Moonstone. Probably the only place in town that would have hired her. She took classes at the local college and produced a guerilla radio show on the shortwave in her attic. All Things Wicked This Night was about the world's dark underbelly. The occult. Urban legends. Horror. And often there were heated discussions with Mikaela about the horror movies they'd catch at the only theater in Greenville. Mikaela liked her horror with a little comedy, but Sable liked it meaner. Scarier. Bloodier. She relished the gore. Enjoyed the terror. Liked to feel the adrenaline rush. And their debates were entertaining to say the least.

When searching for inspiration for her show, Sable would take walks in the cemetery with all the statues and headstones of early settlers who had founded the town as a sanctuary for those escaping persecution. She often talked about that history on her show, and she formed a theory that the uncanny sightings and disappearances were somehow linked to the town's history. One caller suggested the town was built on top of a fracture. The caller went on to describe a fracture as an overlap between worlds. Another caller said these fractures were created by an ancient cult devoted to forgotten demons. Another caller defined fractures as a cosmic buffet for an elder god that fed on pain, fear, and misery. And one caller even argued that it wasn't a fracture but The Unknown, a mysterious creature that consumed anyone who dared to imagine it. All the theories made for fun and inspiring debates, and she loved nothing more than to discuss real-life horror until the horror became personal.

One evening Sable had challenged Mikaela to tell a real horror story at Moonstone's Annual Halloween Festival. Scare the crap out of people. Stop dancing around the horror and embrace it. Tell a story about The Unknown. Make them imagine it. Make them believe The Unknown will show up on stage. Nothing terrifies an audience more than a show that could potentially kill them. Mikaela laughed at the idea and declined the challenge because she was working on another story with her roommate. 

But a strange, black fog had taken Mikaela during her performance and Sable felt the icy hand of guilt grab her by the back of the neck. She was convinced that she had somehow sent Mikaela to her doom. Did The Unknown take her? Did she try to define The Unknown? What about her roommate? Her roommate disappeared as well. But then she realized Mikaela's story wasn't about The Unknown. It was about something else. Another dimension. A dimension filled with terrifying creatures, sadistic killers, and endless horror.

This was not The Unknown.

With this realization, Sable began to investigate other disappearances in Greenville. Before long, she realized most of the disappearances occurred at the theater or somewhere close by. Investigating further, she discovered the theater was built over the ruins of an old, one-room schoolhouse that had burned to the ground in the 1920s. Somehow the students couldn't get out and everyone perished in the flames. Feeling close to an answer, she continued her research and discovered two teenage brothers had recently disappeared from the theater. Elias and Elan. The only witness, their younger sister, Ellen, was committed to an institution after ripping her eyes out. And so, pretending to be a relative, Sable went to talk to Ellen who admitted she and her brothers had been trying to steal old movie posters from the storage room behind the movie screen. She then described a secret door in the basement and a passageway that led to another Place.

A dark place.

A cold place.

An evil place.

Stay away from there, she begged. Stay

Away.

But Sable wasn't about to stay away.

Not after that story.

Determined to see Mikaela again, Sable hitched a ride to the theater and soon found the door behind the movie screen. In the darkness she jimmied the door open with a crowbar and headed down a creaking, wooden stairway to the dank cellar. A light switch activated flickering fluorescent lights that illuminated a room filled with broken theater seats and old movie posters dating back eighty years. She searched the sprawling basement and found a thick wooden door hidden behind a poster of the original Frankenstein. She pushed and shoved the door open to reveal an endless circular stairway descending into perfect darkness. Using a penlight to navigate, she descended for ten minutes before she noticed the cold, black fog rising from the lower depths.

The same cold, black fog that had taken Mikaela.

Sable considered running back up the stairs to where she would be safe. But then she thought about the terrifying creatures and the sadistic killers and the endless horror, and she quickly decided she wasn't going to let her best friend have all the fun.

[bridenore]

Author rec : mosrael

Mosrael is one of my favorite authors. Here are a few recs, listed in alphabetical order.

The Golden Bough by @m0srael [21k]

Harry Potter knows better than most how tightly Love and Death are   entwined, but when he is tempted by death for a third time, Unspeakable Draco Malfoy will have to remind him.

He Was a Skater Boy by @m0srael [19k]

Harry Potter intends to spend his eighth year at Hogwarts avoiding the endless stares, whispers, and nosy questions that never seem to leave him be. He wants nothing more than to hide in the quiet solitude of his dorm room, keep his head down, and wallow in his grief. At least, that's his plan right up until the moment Draco Malfoy kick-flips his life upside down.

Love Bites, Or How Draco Malfoy Learned to Let Go and Celebrate His Allure by @m0srael [50k]

Recently-turned Draco Malfoy is doing his very best to be a normal, productive, contributing member of wixen society. So far, he’s managed to keep his bloody little problem a secret, even from his best friends. But when the professional opportunity he’s been dreaming of finally   falls in his lap, he finds himself with much more than just a potential promotion. Will a profile on a new creature-exclusive dating app, a wolfy stranger who seems hellbent on liking Draco just the way he is, and a little self-confidence help Draco finally love himself and his newfound community?

Nighthawks by @m0srael​ [39k]

“The more he’d thought about it–and he had thought about it–the  less certain he’d become that Draco had really been there, glowing in   the murky glass of the diner window next to Harry’s stunned reflection   like some cruel mockery of the Mirror of Erised. The longer he’d lain in  bed, awake and fully clothed, the more convinced he was that he’s   having some sort of mental breakdown. The long days and even longer   nights must finally be getting to him, just like Hermione said they   would. Because the fact of the matter is that  Draco Malfoy couldn’t have been in this diner, his diner. Draco is  thousands of kilometers, and a whole lifetime, away.” In  which Harry and Draco frequent the same diner when they can’t sleep.   Except–Draco left the UK five years ago, right after he broke Harry’s   heart.

Our Time by @m0srael  [39k]    

Draco Malfoy is an expert in Ancient Runes at Oxford University’s College of Advanced Magical Studies. When he isn’t at the head of a lecture hall, he spends his time alone in cavernous libraries with only crumbling scrolls and runic dictionaries for company. One day, a group of Ministry officials interrupts his research with the aim of recruiting him to lead an elite team of investigators in a top-secret race against time to decrypt a set of recently uncovered ancient runes that threaten the very fabric of time. Draco feels certain he can save the world, if only he didn’t keep getting distracted by his co-lead, one Chief Cursebreaker Harry Potter. If only that distraction didn’t evolve into something so much more.

To Vanish Into Something Better by @m0srael​ [35k]

Harry Potter thought he could outrun the burden of infamy by isolating himself in the Muggle world. Draco Malfoy hasn’t been seen or heard from since his trial. Will a top-secret Ministry project, a beautiful garden, and a little heat carry them both home?

Your Soul Sat On My Lips by @m0srael [61k]

It’s Harry’s turn to blush. “People fall in love all the time, not all of them can be perfect and good and pure. Messy, fucked up people deserve love too. Don’t you think?” Draco gazes at him for a long time, just breathing. “I don’t keep a madwoman in my attic,” he says eventually, a small smile on his lips. “I don’t have an attic.” Harry laughs out loud, the sound even bigger in the small space between them. “Nor do I. But I think she’s sort of a metaphor, anyway.” “Oh. Well, metaphorical madwomen I have in spades,” Draco replies, grinning. Sometimes, two broken men can love one another whole again, and sometimes they can’t. That doesn’t mean they don’t deserve to try.

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

[sitp-recs]

Heyy i love how you’ve made this amazing site for lost drarry lovers so thankyou so much for that!! I love the fics you’ve recommended and i doubt i’d be able to find them without your help I was wondering if you could recommend some slowburn fics where draco is hunting horcruxes with the Golden trio! And maybe all about the war through their eyes in general!! Thanks a lot

Ahh that’s such a nice message, you’re very welcome! 😊 I love war fics so it was really fun to put this reclist together. I haven’t read it but I know that Men Who Love Dragons Too Much by fencer_x also explores the theme and is a highly popular fic. Happy readings!

Mortal Frame by @tackytigerfic (M, 6k) - post-canon

Draco’s on a mission, and this time it's personal. But it's not easy to track down something that no one wants to talk about, especially when Harry Potter keeps popping up everywhere Draco goes. Though at least he’s on Draco’s side this time, and if he happens to be useful, and kind, and great in bed—well, Draco’s not exactly complaining.

The Eighth Tale by lettered (E, 12k)

Draco Malfoy tries to fix the past, but instead mucks it up some more. For Harry, it all becomes quite clear.

flashback, warm nights (orphaned, M, 13k)

“What’s killing me is that I actually quite fucking like Christmas, festival-for-a-personally-irrelevant-religion-turned-commercialised-garbage-holiday though it may be, and now I’m stuck in the perpetual almost-there of it all with an idiot who gets himself cut up every time no matter how differently I try and do things!” “Killing you?” Potter asks. “I thought I was the one who’s about to get my torso sliced into?”

Speak (and may the world come undone) by @shealwaysreads (E, 26k)

The war is on in earnest, and the hunt for the Horcruxes has begun. Harry receives help from the least expected person, and must decide whether he can trust the enemy he knows best. A story of grey-tinged loyalty, the silver of trust in the darkness, the agony of courage, the unexpected richness of secrets, and the vast unknown of survival.

9 ½ Days by @magpiefngrl (E, 69k)

After the events at the Manor, Harry and Draco find themselves stranded in the countryside with a broken wand and Death Eaters on their tail. This is the story of an uneasy truce, featuring faerie forests, seaside caves, Romani camps, kind old ladies, and a shared bed in an attic. Or how two boys fell in love in the midst of a bloody coup.

Walking the Line by SilentAuror (E, 179k)

Sixth year is over and Draco Malfoy is on the run. The war is on and an unwanted assignment is forced upon him by the only people he trusts - and a one-time arch-enemy just may be out to kill him.

Temptation on the Warfront by alizarincrims0n (E, 180k)

Draco Malfoy is forced into hiding with the Golden Trio and dragged into their search for horcruxes. What ensues is a journey of redemption, unexpected friendships and an unwanted, turbulent romance with Harry Potter. Warnings for swearing, sexual content, and dark themes.

The Secret Keeper by @the-fools-errand (M, 225k) - AU

On Halloween 1981, Albus Dumbledore made a decision that would change the course of history, concealing Harry Potter’s survival at the hands of Lord Voldemort underneath a Fidelius Charm. But when Harry comes of age in the Muggle world, Dumbledore realises too late that the fate of the world may depend on a boy who has never held a wand.

The Hush of War by @lol-zeitgeistic (E, 351k)

Voldemort has made a bargain with Harry to stop killing muggles and muggle-borns (when at all possible, of course) in exchange for Harry's cooperation. While Harry thinks he's using the time to find a way to defeat the Dark Lord, he will realize that Voldemort is always one step ahead, and so long as he isn't killing anyone...what's the big deal? He has bigger things to worry about now, anyway.

Double Edged Sword by @romaine2424 (E, 552k)

Harry thinks his life has been planned out, but the night he comes of age changes everything. Now there are decisions to be made and a path to be chosen, and the choices before him will change the lives of everyone he knows. But when destiny calls, Harry finds himself ready to listen.

All the Answers by Maxine (M, WIP)

Finding himself saddled with Draco Malfoy is just about the last thing Harry expected to happen this year. Too bad ignoring the git is something he’s never been able to do. Horcruxes, war, and teenage hormones – no one ever said this would be easy!

[prettyswellaus]

"When did each of the ghouls move in?"

In order from first to last:

Matt was the first, as he and his family owned the house in the first place.

Tom was the second, after he left his home dimension during the 90s.

Edd was the third, he was haunting the house and was essentially a squatter.

Tord was the fourth, moving in not too long after Edd had officially called off "squatter's rights"

Mark was the fifth, having showed up not long after rising from the dead.

Blaze was the sixth, she came to the house seeking refuge after almost being wrongly executed in Salem, Massachusetts.

Blade was the seventh, having discovered the house while she was injured from hunting in the woods. She was nursed back to health after returning to her human-like form.

Jordan was the eighth, having moved in after deciding to leave the woods.

Eduardo was the ninth, having moved in not long after mutating. He heard about the house thanks to his girlfriend Laurel.

Dawn was the tenth, she left hell to become more indepedent from her mother.

Dusk was the eleventh, having been found in the attic of the house. Coming back to life after her long state of dormancy. She used to belong to Matt's grandma, hence she was in the attic.

And Jon was the last one. Moving in after having seen a Stanslist ad asking for "normal" roommates.

[agaypanic]

Alright I want drama so can you do Malcom and Stevie going after the same girl and all the stuff that happens

The Fight For Love (Malcolm Wilkerson X Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Malcolm and Stevie find out that they’ve been wanting the same girl. Now they’re fighting for her attention, and neither of them back down from a challenge.

A/N: anon doesn’t say who reader should end up with so she ends up with Malcolm bc that’s who I write for. But if you wanna see this with a Stevie ending lmk!

***

“Stop acting… like you’re… so good with… relationships… Malcolm.” Stevie rolled his eyes at his best friend before taking a bite of his sandwich. “You don’t… have game.”

“Yes, I do!” Malcolm protested. “Remember Sarah Coleman?”

“In eighth grade… and she… dumped… your ass.”

“What about Alison?”

“An idiot… who dumped you… for your brother.”

“Nicki?”

“Crazy… and locked you… in her attic.”

“Whatever.” Malcolm sighed. “It’s not like you’ve ever had a girlfriend.”

“Angela… Pozefsky.”

“Well, I dated her first. Besides, it’s not like you two lasted long.” Malcolm shrugged and shook his head from the annoyance of Stevie having a good rebuttal. He started picking at his food, which should’ve signaled the end of the conversation. But before he could take a bite, he dropped his fork and turned back to Stevie. “You know what? They don’t even matter anymore. I like someone else anyway.”

“Oh, really?” Stevie asked, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, and I got a real chance with her.”

“Of course… you do.” Stevie responded sarcastically, taking another bite of his food. Malcolm looked at him confused.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You like… someone… and think you… have a shot… so you… obsess.”

“No, I don’t!”

“Yes… you do.”

“Whatever. Look, I have a real chance with this girl, I know it. Have you ever connected with someone so well that you just know, deep down, that they’re it for you?” Malcolm stared off with a dreamy look on his face, obviously deep in thought about the girl he was talking about.

“I have… actually,” Stevie said, which surprised Malcolm, pulling him out of his state.

“Really? You’ve never talked about her before.”

“If I could… get a… word in… I-”

“So what’s she like?” Stevie rolled his eyes at Malcolm, but soon brushed it off, ready to talk about the girl he’s had his eye on.

“Treats me like… a person. Doesn’t… sugarcoat… but still… sweet.”

“Same with mine!” Malcolm responded. “She’s straightforward, but she’s still like, the nicest person ever.”

“She’s smart… too.”

“I can have an intellectual conversation with her without feeling like a freak. And she’s so funny too.”

“Her laugh… is heavenly.”

“Let’s say their names on three,” Malcolm suggested. Stevie nodded. “One.”

“Two.”

“Three. Y/n.”

“Y/n.”

The smiles on the boys’ faces faded once they realized what the other had said. It seemed they were both talking about the same girl.

“Crap.”

***

After a lengthy discussion, Stevie and Malcolm concluded that they were, in fact, talking about the same girl. Y/n had known them for years, meeting them back in middle school. She wasn’t in the Krelboyne class, but she was still clever enough to understand complex matters and keep up with the boys’ conversations. She was nice, but could still tell it how it is. And no matter what, she was still the boys’ friend.

Stevie and Malcolm also concluded that they both liked Y/n too much to back away and let the other have a chance to woo her. So they agreed to let the best man win.

“Hey, Y/n.” Malcolm greeted his friend, slightly out of breath. He woke up early and ran to school so he could talk to Y/n before Stevie could. But she didn’t need to know that.

“Hey, Malcolm. You know, I think this is the first time I’ve seen you come to school this early.” She smiled at him and he could’ve melted right there. He shrugged, trying to be nonchalant.

“Decided to try something new, I guess.”

“Well, I hope you stick with it. I’ve missed seeing you in the mornings.”

Malcolm felt like he could’ve died right there. She was missing his presence? They saw each other almost every day, and she still missed him?

“Really?” Malcolm asked. He felt like he had just imagined her response, but was really hoping that he didn’t.

“Of course, Malcolm! I miss the days back in middle school when you, Stevie, and I would hang out before we had to split to our different classes.” And just like that, Malcolm’s mood deflated. Y/n didn’t miss just him, she also missed his best friend, who he was secretly fighting for her attention. 

He shook off the disappointment. He had to stick to his plan.

“Well, speaking of different classes, want me to walk you to yours?” Malcolm felt proud of himself. It sounded so effortless and smooth, yet he was trying not to overthink every second of this interaction too badly. 

“Sure! I was waiting for someone, but I need to get to class early to ask my teacher something and I don’t think they’ll be here in time.” Malcolm tried not to ask who Y/n was waiting for. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that she was letting him walk her to class, step one of his plan.

***

“Hey, Stevie.” Y/n greeted the boy as he rolled his chair over to his assigned spot next to her. When he locked the wheels in place, he turned to her and mirrored the smile she had.

“Hi, Y/n.” When he reached back to grab supplies out of his backpack, he noticeably did a double take at her. “You look… really nice… today.” He acted like he just noticed, but Stevie saw it the second he came into the room. But to be fair, he thought she looked nice every day.

“Oh, thanks! I went to the mall last weekend and kind of splurged.” 

“Well… you have… good taste.” 

“Thank you, Stevie.” Her smile was softer but felt just as bright.

“Sorry I… couldn’t… meet you… this morning… Dad woke up… late.” If he could, Stevie would kick himself for missing her in the morning, even though logically it wasn’t his fault. He had to rely on his dad to drive him unless he wanted to go on the bus or wheel to school. Stevie just hoped he could make it up to Y/n.

“Oh, it’s okay. Malcolm walked me to class.” Y/n didn’t notice the quick flash of annoyance on Stevie’s face at the mention of Malcolm. 

“Really?”

“Yeah. It was kinda weird seeing him this morning. I usually never see him that early in the day.” Y/n pulled a notebook out of her backpack and set it on the desk before looking at Stevie. “But he said he was trying something new, so maybe I’ll be seeing more of him again.”

“Maybe,” Stevie whispered. He couldn’t believe that Malcolm would swoop in on Y/n when Stevie was supposed to walk her to class. Stevie had to think of something. “Wanna get… lunch… together?”

Y/n was about to answer when the bell rang, cutting her off. The teacher started talking but Stevie couldn’t pay attention, still waiting for her answer. When the teacher turned around to write something on the board, Y/n smiled at Stevie and nodded.

Perfect.

***

Lunch couldn’t come quickly enough. Stevie made his way to the quad and tried spotting Y/n. It was a simple task. He could pick the girl out in a crowded place any day. When he found her, he started moving towards her. But something stopped him.

Malcolm had also spotted Y/n and then noticed Stevie. The two boys glared at each other, and the race was on. It started slowly, a leisurely walk and roll, to not draw too much attention to themselves. But then they sped up and kept getting faster until they finally stopped at Y/n’s table. She looked up, startled, but the confusion left her face when she recognized who was in front of her.

“Hey, Malcolm! Hey, Stevie!” She turned to each boy when acknowledging him.

“Hi, Y/n.” They said in unison, glaring at each other before sitting down. Y/n didn’t seem to notice.

“I didn’t know… Malcolm… would be… joining us,” Stevie commented as he pulled out his lunch box. Before Y/n could respond, Malcolm dropped his backpack on the table and yanked out his paper bag of food.

“She asked me before third period.” He stared Stevie down. “Is that a problem, Stevie?”

“Not at all.”

“Are you guys okay?” Y/n asked, eyes darting between the two. “You guys are acting kind of weird. Well, weirder than usual.”

“We’re fine.” They both responded shortly. Y/n nodded, not convinced but not feeling like delving deeper into the boys’ behavior. The three friends ate, silence and tension thick. After a few minutes, Malcolm decided to make a move.

“So, Y/n, are you doing anything tonight?” Stevie glared at Malcolm, but he and Y/n didn’t notice. Malcolm was focused on Y/n, who was trying to recall any plans she had.

“Nothing, I think. Why?”

“Well, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out after school.” Malcolm shrugged as if he had just spontaneously thought of it. “I think I heard about this movie that just came out.” When he got home after his talk with Stevie, Malcolm scoured the internet and newspaper for different things that would peak Y/n’s interest.

“Oh, yeah! I think I know what movie you’re talking about. I’d love to go with you, Malcolm.”

“Great!” He felt so accomplished and smug, the way he did when he won an award for academic achievement. Stevie wanted to wipe that look off his face.

“Oh my gosh, we’re so rude.” Y/n gasped, turning to face Stevie. “I can’t believe we just made plans in front of you, Stevie. Do you wanna come with us?” With anyone else, Stevie would’ve rolled his eyes, feeling like the invitation was just out of pity. But he knew that Y/n was genuinely guilty about excluding him from something.

So it killed him when he turned her offer down.

“No, thanks… But you two… have fun.” He knew that if he came with Y/n and Malcolm, Malcolm would get nowhere with her. But at the same time, neither would he. So he had to restrain himself from trying to sabotage Malcolm’s time with her and make her time with him special and more memorable. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah… we can… hang out… another time.”

Malcolm was surprised. He thought that Stevie would have jumped at the opportunity to spend time with Y/n. But he wasn’t going to complain about getting some alone time with her. When he thought about it, it was fair for each of them to have their own time with Y/n to try to win her over.

“How about tomorrow?”

“Perfect.”

***

Malcolm felt like he was blessed by God himself. His mom let him take the car to school and said that as long as he went to the store before coming home at a reasonable time, he could go wherever he wanted. He considered the possibility that maybe Lois was high on something, but he decided not to question it.

Y/n was in the passenger seat, quietly singing along to the radio and bobbing her head to the beat. He wasn’t even dating her, and he was wondering how he got so lucky.

“We’re here.” He announced as he parked the car in the movie theater parking lot. They got out and went inside. Malcolm made sure to hold the door open for her. While in line, the two debated what they wanted for food. When they decided, it was suddenly their turn to go up to the counter. Malcolm gave the worker the movie title and their food order, and paid before Y/n could reach for her wallet.

“Malcolm, you didn’t have to do that.” She groaned as he put his wallet back in his pocket.

“It’s fine, Y/n, really.”

“At least let me pay you back half.” She insisted, trying to put the money in his hand. He shook his head, just as stubborn.

“Y/n, I’m serious, it’s okay.” Knowing he wouldn’t budge, Y/n sighed and put the money back in her pocket.

“Fine.” she said, grabbing the big bucket of popcorn as Malcolm grabbed their drink (they decided it would be cheaper to share a large than each getting their own drink). It was Y/n’s favorite drink. It wouldn’t have been Malcolm’s first choice if the drink was just for himself, but he was okay with drinking it. “But I’m paying next time.” Malcolm lit up.

“So there’s a next time?” He asked, letting her pick where they were going to sit in the theater. They sat directly in the middle.

“Of course!” Feeling more than content, Malcolm settled into his seat with a smile and they watched the previews. More people started to fill the theater. “Is that Stevie?”

They had to squint. The room was dark, and they were high up, but yes. Stevie Kenarban had wheeled his way into the theater, parking himself in one of the handicapped sections on the ground floor. 

“Wanna go sit with him, Malcolm?” Y/n asked, already starting to get up.

“Sure!” He acted excited, but Malcolm was livid. What happened to hanging out with her another day?

After squeezing their way through the aisle and down the stairs, the two ended up next to Stevie.

“Hi, Stevie!” The boy looked surprised when he saw the two.

“Hey, guys.” Just before Y/n was going to sit down in the seat next to Stevie, Malcolm took it. It was bad enough that Stevie was here, but there was no way Malcolm was gonna have Y/n sit between the two of them. Y/n didn’t mind, sitting in the seat next to Malcolm.

“What are you doing here?” Y/n asked quietly, previews about to end.

“Yeah, Stevie, I thought you weren’t gonna come,” Malcolm added on, a bit of venom in his tone.

“Dad says… I should… get out more.” Stevie shrugged before eating a handful of his popcorn. In reality, it took a bit of convincing to get Stevie’s dad to drive him to the movie theater. He had originally thought that it was okay for each boy to have time to themselves with Y/n.

But after thinking about what Malcolm would try to get up to, he didn’t care anymore.

The movie cut their conversation short. Stevie rolled his eyes every time he saw Malcolm and Y/n share their drink or bump hands while reaching for the popcorn. But then, the unthinkable happened. Malcolm pulled the cliche, yawning and stretching even though it was 4 pm, before laying his arm on the back of Y/n’s seat. Even worse, she didn’t mind. When Malcolm’s arm slipped off the seat and onto her shoulders, she smiled.

Stevie was livid.

***

“It’s nice out today,” Y/n said as she basked in the sun’s warmth. She and Stevie decided to study together for a test they had coming up and Stevie suggested the park. They grabbed some lunch and sat at her favorite park table, now flipping through books and writing down notes.

“Yeah… it is.” Stevie agreed, his focus more on Y/n than the textbook in front of him. He already knew everything he needed to know about this subject, but he enjoyed studying with Y/n. Her notes were organized, and she made clever jokes about whatever she was reading. Plus, he could never complain about the view that was in front of him right now.

“What did you get for number five?” She asked, looking at the study guide the teacher had provided them. Stevie glanced down at his packet.

“Number five?” He asked for confirmation. When she nodded, looked at his answer. “I got-“

“Oh! Hey guys!” A voice sounded a few feet from the table. The two looked up to see Malcolm. Y/n looked delighted by the surprise, Stevie on the other hand looked less than thrilled.

“What are you doing here, Malcolm?” Y/n asked with a smile.

“Yeah… What are… you doing… here?” Stevie asked with annoyance. Malcolm shrugged as if he had just popped up in the park. 

“Oh, just wanted some fresh air. Get out of the house for a bit.” He walked over and sat next to Y/n, who made room for him on the bench. “What are you guys working on?”

“We have a test next week, so we decided to study,” Y/n answered, looking through her textbook to try to find her answer to number five. Malcolm peeked over her shoulder at the question and then pointed to the answer in the book. “Oh! Thanks, Malcolm.”

“We have… a lot… of work… to do… So maybe-” Stevie started to say, trying to get Malcolm out of here as fast as possible. But Y/n, seeming to misread his tone, cut him off.

“Do you think you could help us study, Malcolm?” Stevie sighed. He knew that even if he wanted to, Malcolm would never be able to say no to those eyes.

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna intrude.” He smiled politely, but Stevie saw through the act. 

“Actually-“ Again, he was cut off.

“Of course! You could quiz us and stuff. You don’t mind, do you, Stevie?” Even though he wanted to, Stevie couldn’t say no to her.

“The more… the merrier.”

“Awesome! I’ll be right back.” Y/n stood up, gathering all the trash from her and Stevie’s lunch. “Gonna go throw this away.” The boys watched as she walked off to a trash can. When she was out of earshot, they turned to each other.

“Why… are you… here?” Stevie asked, anger seeping into his tone.

“I could’ve asked you the same thing the other day,” Malcolm responded. “I thought we agreed to let the best man win, fair and square.”

“And I thought… ‘screw that.’” 

Malcolm groaned, letting his head fall into his hands. He slowly looked up.

“Neither of us will get anywhere if we keep acting like this,” He sighed. “We gotta ask her.”

“Ask her… what?”

“Yeah, ask me what?” The boys jumped in their seats, startled. Y/n sat back down in her spot, looking at her friends as she waited for an answer.

“Uhhhh…” Stevie trailed off, trying to think of something. Luckily, Malcolm was always a quick thinker.

“We were just wondering… Do you have any plans next week?”

“I don’t think so. Why?”

“Well, there’s this restaurant that I think you’d like.”

“And there’s an… arboretum… that just opened.”

“Aw, like a group friend date?” Malcolm and Stevie had to suppress their groans. They couldn’t tell if Y/n was messing with them or if she was actually oblivious to what they were hinting at.

“Something like that.”

***

“It’s kinda sad Malcolm didn’t show up. This place is beautiful.” Y/n said as she and Stevie walked around the arboretum. The sunlight shined through the tree branches, making it seem like they were glowing.

“At least… we can… enjoy it,” Stevie said, watching Y/n as she walked down the concrete path, the sun hitting her just right, making her look angelic.

“You know, these last two weeks have been so great. I miss hanging out with you all the time.” Y/n stopped under some shade, Stevie following suit. 

“Me too,” Stevie said excitedly.

“I don’t know what changed. But whatever did, I’m glad it happened. You and Malcolm are so fun to be around.” Stevie wished so badly that he didn’t hear his friend’s name. Y/n checked her watch. “Oh, gosh. Speaking of Malcolm, I gotta make sure I’m not late to that restaurant. Want me to walk you to your dad’s car?”

Stevie’s heart sank.

“Sure.”

They made their way towards the entrance of the arboretum. Stevie wished that he could’ve had Y/n all to himself today, but that’s not what he and Malcolm agreed on. After a few months of yearning and a few weeks of fighting over Y/n, the two made an agreement. Today was the last day for them to confess their feelings to her. 

And Stevie was about to miss his chance. Every time he tried to bring it up, he chickened out. 

“Well… this… is me,” Stevie said as they stopped next to Stevie’s dad’s car. “Are you sure… you don’t want… a ride?”

“I’m sure, Stevie. It’s not that far of a walk. But you’re sweet for asking.” Without a warning, Y/n leaned down and kissed Stevie’s cheek. When she stood up straight, she waved at Stevie’s dad before looking back at her friend. “I’ll see you around, Stevie.” She turned around and started to walk away.

“Y/n!” Stevie blurted out suddenly. She whipped around.

“Yeah, Stevie?” This was his last chance. All he had to do was say a few words.

“Have a… good time.”

***

“I hope you didn’t have to wait too long,” Y/n said as she plopped down in the booth across from Malcolm. She noticed that he ordered her favorite drink and an appetizer for her. How sweet. “Walk took a little longer than expected.”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t wait too long.” Malcolm started fiddling around with the straw that was in his drink. He couldn’t stop wondering about what Stevie had said to her on their little outing. “How was the arboretum?”

“It was so beautiful. You should’ve been there, Malcolm.”

“Wish I was.”

“Enough about me.” Y/n took a sip of her drink. “What were you up to today?”

‘Thinking of you and hoping to whatever’s out there that Stevie didn’t say what I wanna say to you.’ He thought.

“Oh, nothing much.” He said instead. “Honestly, I was looking forward to this the whole day. I really like hanging out with you, Y/n.”

“Aw, I really like hanging out with you too, Malcolm.”

This must be a sign. Right? Why would you really like being around someone unless you like them to some degree? But did she mean it in a friendly way like Malcolm should have meant, or did she mean it in a more than friendly way like Malcolm did mean?

Malcolm was starting to think that Stevie was right about him obsessing.

“So, what are you gonna have?” the question pulled Malcolm out of his thoughts, but that only made him have different thoughts. Malcolm had actually gotten to the restaurant before Y/n on purpose to talk to the waiter. After he and Stevie realized they both liked Y/n, Hal found out. And being the hands-on man he was when it came to his sons’ love lives, he decided to help Malcolm out. Malcolm didn’t take all of his dad’s suggestions, but there was one that stuck with him.

Whatever Y/n ordered, Malcolm told the server to stick a note that he had given him to the side of her plate. It was a note explaining how he felt about her. He knew that if he tried saying it, he would just chicken out. So the note ensured that she would know of his feelings.

But now that she was so close to finding the note, he was starting to feel sick.

“Uhhhh, I don’t know. I’ll probably figure it out before the server comes.” But very soon, the waiter came. Malcolm just picked the first appealing thing he saw on the menu, not that he was feeling very picky. Then Y/n ordered, and the waiter left, leaving the two to themselves.

“Can I ask you something?” Y/n asked, taking a bite of the appetizer Malcolm had ordered.

“Sure,” Malcolm said nervously, though he tried not to show it.

“Is there a reason why you and Stevie have been wanting to hang out with me so much lately? I mean, I don’t mind, but it kinda seemed out of the blue. I don’t know, maybe I’m just imagining it.”

“You’re not.” Malcolm cut off what was about to become a ramble. Y/n looked up, somewhat confused.

“I’m not?”

“No.” Malcolm took a deep breath. Looks like he wouldn’t be needing that note after all. “Y/n, the truth is-”

“Here you go.” The server had come back with their food, faster than usual, the two noted. He set the dishes down in front of them and after making sure they didn’t need anything else, made his way to leave. “Enjoy.” The two were now alone again, but with more tension than when the waiter had come. Malcolm was about to tell Y/n that he liked her and Y/n was waiting to find out what had been up with him and Stevie the past few weeks. But no one wanted to speak first.

Y/n grabbed her plate and pulled it closer to her. Malcolm saw confusion cross her face as she felt for something on the underside of the plate. Malcolm’s eyes widened. She was about to find the note.

“That’s weird.” Y/n pulled it off of the dish and looked at the piece of paper. She flipped the paper for Malcolm to see. He looked at her name, which was written in his nicest handwriting. Which she recognized. “Did you do this?”

She knew the answer, but she wanted to hear him say it.

“Yeah…” She smiled, unfolding the note, and started to read it. Malcolm was terrified as he watched her. He didn’t think this far ahead. What if she rejected him? What if she left, leaving him to wallow in despair knowing that he blew it, his only chance? What if Stevie had told her how he felt, and now she’d have to let him down easy? He should’ve never listened to his dad. His dad finding his mom must have been an outlier, and he and his brothers were doomed to be unhappy and loveless. He would never find that antidote that Hal told him and his brothers about, that balanced out the insanity that was the Wilkerson boys’ hormones.

“Malcolm…” She sighed. Oh God, this was it. She was going to reject him, leave, and he’d never see him again. “This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“What?” That was not the response Malcolm was expecting. It was the one he had hoped for, but he didn’t think it would happen. “Really?”

“Yes!” She kept staring at the note, reading the lines over and over as if she was trying to engrave it in her brain. “It’s so beautiful. I love it.”

Malcolm let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“You do?”

“Yeah.” She slid out of the booth. She walked to his side and sat down next to Malcolm. “Were you telling the truth? Do you really like me?”

He nodded. He knew that if he said anything now, it would turn into an out-pour of words and would never stop.

“Thank God.” Note still in hand, Y/n grabbed Malcolm’s face and pulled him towards her in a long, sensual kiss. They knew that they were still in public, but they didn’t care. They were finally doing what they had wanted to do for so long.

Malcolm felt bad for Stevie. He’d never be able to experience this with Y/n, because she chose Malcolm. He knew he’d get over it someday and they’d still be best friends. But right now, Malcolm was focused on a more pressing matter. He pulled away from Y/n, somewhat reluctantly.

“Y/n, will you be my girlfriend?”

“Of course, Malcolm.”

Overfilled with joy, Malcolm kissed her again. And again. And again.

[karinyosa]

Gene and Brinker, good sir?

AHHH okay okay

what made you ship it?

reading the book lol. ok so i feel like there's a lot of context i need to explain for this beyond just the book's subtext bc there's a bit of personal lore here. before teaching us the book, my middle school english teacher introduced each of the central four characters with this powerpoint with a slide on each one, and the way she described them like archetypically and physically made it sound almost like (to MY middle school brain) a dating sim, in which gene was the main character. like the blurb already sounds very romance novelesque so jdkshfkh. ig it wasn't too big a leap. so we already have a baseline there.

i also think that in the book brinker and gene are a secondary and competing rivarly/friendship to gene and finny's rivarly/friendship, and i think that's where the tension between brinker and gene and brinker and finny comes from. in fact this is kind of just text, like brinker and finny i think are pretty explicitly competing for gene's attention. i'm pretty sure there are some like old asp posts from the earlier 2010s era of the fandom where people are like "brinker and gene/finny have such ex energy", but iirc it was more often finny? like i'm definitely not the only person to see this Thing brinker has going on with gene, but at the time i'm p sure brinkerfinny was the more widespread take. anyway. brinker pursues gene so relentlessly both as an antagonist and as a guy who just Needs to be doing things with him, Needs to be occupying his time and attention. and yet they maintain this weird friendship/understanding throughout. to me this was most pronounced with the whole enlistment thing, and that dynamic where gene had to choose between finny and brinker for the enlistment/not enlistment??? it just gave very love triangle energy. the intensity with which brinker is fixated on gene is like. it gives repressed queer guy with problems. it's beyond wanting to antagonize him, he just is constantly coming up with excuses to be around him and to orient his focus around the pursuit of this one guy. his need to be morally superior to the object of his pursuit feels very queercoded to me. it's a very funny contrast to other parts of the book where he and gene are seemingly chill and normal friends? boy has issues

2. what are your favorite things about the ship?

HOOOOOO okay i have a long answer for this because it has to do with how i accidentally made myself insane about them. so i have this really long winded headcanon-turned-sequel fic in my Brain and Mind about gene and brinker moving in together after the war for kind of money reasons and kind of personal reasons. gene has been depression camping in finny's family's attic for a long undefined amount of time, and brinker is like hey you need to get the fuck out of there come live with me idiot. cue several years later and this is where the fic starts. i usually have it start at the time that gene would've gone back to visit devon, because i like the idea of that whole thing happening during a hs reunion in devon town, in which he and brinker joint travel and stay with his family which is its own whole awkwardness but anyway. <- culmination of everything i've ever thought about them since eighth grade

most of my genebrinker thoughts center around this period of adulthood where they're not young anymore but they're not old either, and they have all this unresolved tension and shared trauma and resentment that spills over into their "present" relationship. i think this is where genebrinker would theoretically "actually" start, in adulthood. i think there could've been ambiguous things earlier, especially during their joint enlistment period if they happened to be together, but nothing very deliberate or openly acknowledged until much later. it's this delicious mix of both having an established very domestic and familiar dynamic, knowing this person's routines and habits inside out, and yet having this pent up unspoken something. and for gene and brinker, it's not just this quiet tenderness, although i think that's bound to happen sometimes when you're essentially apartment husbands. i think they'd blow up at each other and let things slip during heated moments that they don't mean to, mostly on brinker's side, bc i think brinker's been nursing some kind of crush since hs, whereas if gene returned brinker's feelings, i think they'd slowly build over time. their familiarity with each other is also very interesting because, while they have this odd like, daddy issues(?) solidarity in the book that again feels very queer, in adulthood, it's also this thing of like, they kind of shared the murder of one of their closest friends. my fav think about genebrinker is that they know the worst of each other, that they actively participated in some of the worst parts of each other's lives, but it's that coupled with like, arguing over dinner and visiting the parents and trying to hold down stable jobs. or i guess for something more connected to the actual book, that coupled with like, accompanying your friend to an awkward meeting with his dad

this is not even all the things i think about their dynamic or all the like underlying sources of tension in their adult relationship in my head, i also think they'd be in very different places in terms of sexuality, and that would come to a head at some point, but i'll stop here because this is a question about my favorite THING, not explain every thought you've ever had about them

3. is there an unpopular opinion you have about your ship?

i think the entire ship is an unpopular opinion lmfao. like 90% of this is my headcanons. ummm i have brinker being the more responsible of the two when i write them as adults, if still the more temperamental one, so that might be controversial? i think at this stage of their lives, he's more practical and better at home ec stuff, and gene cannot fucking take care of himself for the life of him. gene is running himself into the ground while brinker is like get your fucking socks off my floor

[envihellbender]

A fatty bursting walls… but with their brainfat

Rating: Mature (Kink)

Characters: Jameson, Momma, Daddy, Agnes, West (OCs)

Content: Pregnancy, extreme weight gain, vomit mention, some body horror, slob, extreme sweat

Summary: There are some perks to being the oldest boy, but Jameson is about to face the trials as he goes to look at a part of his father he never thought he’d have to see.

—

Jameson read the paper as he heard his siblings bicker around him. It was probably a good thing that they all had dinner as a family, but right now he found it difficult to see it that way. At the head of the table was his Momma, her plentiful gut filling underneath the table with her heavy, plentiful breasts protruding over the top. She was wheezing, groaning, and occasionally complaining as she had throughout her eighth pregnancy. Jameson’s six brothers and sisters all dug into their food, despite their parents gigantic sizes they were all fairly standard size - ranging from slim to chubby to fat but not enormous. The maids and butler filled their plates and brought in cafetières and teapots, none of them even glanced up and as Jameson put his paper down and poured himself a black coffee, his mother snapped something in his direction taking them all by surprise.

“You been to the attic lately?” She asked, saliva, fat, and bits of gristle spitting out of her mouth as she spoke despite it being filled with food.

“No, and I doubt you have either Momma,” Jameson answered curtly. His younger brother West kicked him under the table and his youngest sister Agnes let out an annoying “ooooh” sound.

“Smart little-" Momma groaned, her voice a wheezing groan as if speaking was too difficult. She gave up on the insult, something which gave Jameson a slight hint of joy. “Claudia says the attic walls have started to crack. Can you go take a look?”

“The attic? Don’t normally start in the attic.” Jameson’s attention and trust had been acquired when Momma had said “Claudia”. She’d been his nanny and now she took care of Agnes his youngest sister of seven years old. She was as honest as they came, he trusted her word over his own Momma’s.

“Well, them gentlemen of Doctor Cain’s have been trying something new on your Daddy’s side of the house,” Momma said with a shrug of her fat slabs of meat that were once shoulders. Everyone at the table stopped squabbling and stared at her, now she had their attention.

“What do you mean something new?” Jameson asked, the question that was on all seven of Momma’s children’s minds.

“Something to make him have some brains in that fat empty head of his.” Everyone was silent as Momma ranted, they knew one word could end badly for them. Jameson didn’t listen, instead his thick eyebrows furrowed as he was deep in thought. He interrupted her ramblings with no apology.

“You’re going to have to be more specific, Momma. What do you mean have some ‘brains’?” He said carefully.

“Go see for yourself.” Momma had clearly grown bored of this and began stuffing her face.

“Fine,” Jameson sighed finally. He slammed his cup of coffee down, he didn’t even finish his breakfast as he decided to walk up the four flights of stairs to see what all the fuss was about. He was dressed for work, in a smart suit and black shoes, and by the third set he felt the sweat soak through his white shirt. Lucky for him his assistant kept a spare suit in for him just in case, so he didn’t need to lose face by admitting he’d struggled with the walk.

When Jameson opened the offending attic door he felt it immediately, the sawdust in the air that hit his sinuses, the decades of unreleased sweat filling the room, and causing it to stink far worse than his younger brothers’ quarters had when they were all going through puberty at the same time. He could also smell the salt and iron of blood, along with something that was more akin to a rotting bandage being removed from a wound. He took his handkerchief from his pocket and held it up his nose as he climbed the narrow staircase, it getting worse and worse the more he climbed.

When he reached the top he saw it - and there was no way the cracks were new. For one thing, they were no longer just ‘cracks’ in fact a good three quarters of the wall separating Momma’s attic from Daddy’s had collapsed. Normally, a few bits of fallen plaster meant the man was growing another role of adipose but this was different. This would be where his head was and that never grew particularly large. As he approached it he saw the sawdust that had accumulated around the bulging flesh that was pouring through the wall and gathering onto the floor like a fungus or a mould. Jameson had seen his daddy’s fat a thousand times and it didn’t look like this. This was paler, with more veins that Daddy had on his entire body. It wasn’t in roles either, it was more like bulging lumps. It seemed more like this was a growth more than anything else. The biggest one Jameson had ever seen, it easily weighed more than his entire body, it was taller than him and he could probably use it as a king size bed.

He walked around it, the smell penetrating his handkerchief as he tried not to vomit. He held his breath as he slipped the silk fabric embroidered with his initials into his pocket. He bent down and tried to lift the fat, however the moment it revealed the destroyed wall, the puddles of sweat, it caused Jameson to stumble backwards. Him dropping it resulted in a loud bang and caused the foundations to shake. Alongside that, Jameson began loudly vomiting and coughing. As he gained his bearings he began to feel sorry for whoever would have to clean his vomit and also this room. However, the underside of this … bulge was just too disgusting even for him. The worst part was, the growth was definitely on his head, Jameson saw a sliver of what was definitely an ear that had been completely covered by it. He tested placing a hand on Daddy’s flesh reluctantly, feeling disgusted by how repulsed he’d been by his own Daddy. As he did he felt something spark, he felt something buzz and vibrate underneath him.

My… boy… My… Heir… Mine

Those words filled his mind alongside images of his father’s head. He saw the brain bulging, bursting through his skull and pouring into the attic. That’s what this was, it was Daddy’s brain. And it was growing.

And worst of all, it wanted Jameson.

[scullymurphy]

Night in Blue Satin

Over in the Rolled Sleeves Agenda Discord, we like to post pics of facecasts and drool over discuss them. Today, @bookloverdream-blessedindeed​ posted the above and it inspired an instant plunny in my breast. I now share it with you...

Blue Satin

“Let me. I’m so fucking bored.” Theo ran a slip of red silk through his hands and shot a beseeching look at Draco, who was doing nothing other than lying on his bed and staring moodily at the canopy. 

“No.” 

“Please? No one will see. It’s just you and me in here.” The Eighth-Year Slytherin dorm was a lonely place at the best of times. And on the sleety January Friday before term resumed, it was especially bare. 

“Why did you bring that rubbish back, anyway?” Draco sounded highly uninterested, but Theo took his question as an opening. 

“Thought it might be fun. We could do theatricals,” —Draco snorted and Theo made a face— “or give Pansy something to practice on. I found it all in an attic at the estate. Might have been my great-grandmother’s. Or an eccentric aunt’s? There’ve always been whispers that someone in the family attempted the muggle stage.”

Draco deigned to roll over and glance into Theo’s open trunk, which looked like a rainbow had exploded inside. Theo plunged a hand in and turned up fabrics and constructions of every muggle stripe. Dresses, jackets, stoles, glasses, wigs. Strange neckties. A feathery fan.

Hats. 

He pulled out a jockey’s bonnet trimmed in ice blue satin. “This would compliment your eyes.” He held it toward Draco hopefully. 

“Fuck off.” 

“Please?” 

“Put it on your own demented head.” 

“It demands a fair complexion, Draco.” 

“I don’t care.” 

“What if I let you have some of the fifty-year old whisky I also found in the attic?” 

Draco arched a disdainful brow. “Ogdens?” 

“Glenlivet.” 

Draco sat up. “Whisky first,” he said. 

~*~

Four drams in and they were listing against the dormitory window, racing raindrops down the pane. 

“Move, you bugger!” Draco tapped the glass where his drop was sliding sluggishly. 

“That’s cheating!” Theo shouted. “You forfeit!”

“I do fucking not.” 

“You do. Now you have to tell me what’s going on with Granger!” Theo did a little jig. 

“I told you, you bloody lunatic. Nothing is going on.” Draco reached for the bottle of whisky and sloshed more into their glasses. 

“Fine, don’t tell me. But you have let me do the hat now.” 

“Fine.” 

Theo squealed and lunged for his trunk. 

~*~

“Stop looking at me like that.” 

Theo removed his hand from over his mouth, but couldn’t stop the smile overtaking his face. 

“What?” Draco’s pale cheeks took on a stain of high colour. 

“You just look. Bloody fantastic in that.” Theo’s eyes skimmed over Draco’s shoulders, fetchingly encased in a fitted regency-era coat, to his throat—touched by a blue satin cravat, to the jaunty jockey’s bonnet, piled with more of the blue silken fabric.

“You would say that, you poof.” 

Theo put out a hand. “No, no. You’re my oldest friend and a very handsome specimen, but we both know you’re not my type.” He fluttered the hand and glanced over his shoulder. “Now if Longbottom were to make his brawny way through that door…” 

“Oh my god.” 

“What? You have your Gryffindor crush and I have mine.” 

Draco’s brows lowered and his mouth opened, but at that moment a knock came on said door. Theo’s eyes went wide, as did Draco’s. 

“What timing,” Theo murmured. “Whoever could it be?” 

Draco lurched up and hiccuped. “Probably Pans. She said she’d come back tonight instead of tomorrow with the crowds.” 

He yanked at the door handle, “Careful, if you come in here Theo’s going to put you in fancy dress like some kind of playhouse prostit—” 

Draco’s words broke off as the door swung open to reveal the shocked face and form of one Hermione Granger. 

Theo watched her eyes drag up Draco’s chest to his face as a deep blush infused her own. They stared at each other for a good five seconds, Draco utterly still and Granger shifting in a way that made Theo think of crossing one’s legs or biting one’s lip. 

“I— I—” she finally stuttered. “Is Theo here?” She hadn’t taken her eyes off Draco’s head and face area, which—that hat did suit him so completely, rendering him unexpectedly dashing, pert and deeply sexy at the same time. 

Theo took pity on Granger. “I’m here,” he called. “Please come in.” He shot a look at Draco, who started out of some fugue state and stepped back. 

“If you’d—” He gestured into the room, attention still fixed on Granger. 

Granger kept watching him too, only tearing her eyes away when Theo coughed. 

“I.” She swallowed, gaze darting back to Draco, who had lounged over to the window seat and to Theo’s delight, seemed to have totally forgotten he was wearing a satin-wrapped jockey’s bonnet. 

“Potions!” Granger blurted, turning to Theo and blinking rapidly. “I was in the library and I had a question about your part of the formula for our project.” Theo noted that she was adorable with a pencil stuck through a bun at the back of her head and the softest-looking muggle jumper dress. 

He also noted Draco staring rather gormlessly.

The beginnings of a nice little plan began to form in the recesses of his mind. Something to put some shine into this dull day. He began pouring whisky into a third glass. 

“Of course,” he murmured, sidling toward his trunk. “But first how do you feel about costumes?”

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

I've been meaning to recommend a website for quite some time now, but it always slipped my mind. Unfortunately, it hasn't been updated since 2022 and I don't know the reason why. It's called The Attic on Eighth and from what I recall it was conceived by a group of women who met on tumblr. I used to read all their posts years ago and also follow them on here. The articles usually focus on fashion, literature, beauty, traveling, film, politics, even cooking recipes from time to time. All from the perspective of women in their 20s and 30s. I have no idea if it's well known or not, but I really enjoyed the writing and I got a lot of inspiration from it. I always thought it was such a great project.

[dcvilgrams]

Me again! I've been curious about one thing with Xhura and that has to do with pacts he has. I'm aware he has pacts only with Lucifer, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus and Barbatos. How come he didn't make pacts with the other brothers? Does it have something to do with trust or some kind of bond or something else? sorry if I'm asking too much- just really curious is all! ^^;;

-(@amberrskiies)

no no listen i literally love talking about this shit @amberrskiies bb~

so as i've said before, Xhura's world-state is shared with @houselamentation's MC: Ayla Getsumei. they come from vastly different upbringings & lives but the one thing they have in common is they both signed up for the RAD Exchange Program

well — the program & the fact that they are both distantly-distant descendants of Lilith; Xhura on his mother's side & Ayla on her father's side

Xhura was supposed to be an alternate — he was never supposed to get his letter because Ayla confirmed her spot in the program. but lo and behold suddenly they're both in the student council room & Lucifer is trying to figure out how they ended up with three humans & only two angels

& Ayla isn't just a descendant, either. she's Lilith's doppelganger. all of a sudden she's there and all of the brothers feel like they're seeing their dead sister everywhere they turn. its why Belphie reaches out to her from the attic — her & not Xhura

Ayla, being immediately distrustful of Lucifer's 'authority,' wants to free Belphie as soon as possible. Xhura is a little more hesitant. he wants to know what led to Belphie being locked away and the whole family lied to. but he agrees not to tell Lucifer because he doesn't want to see Ayla get into trouble

it's Ayla's idea to make the pacts. she wants to free Belphie after all. but some of the brothers trust Xhura a little more readily than they do Ayla. essentially from here on out the pacts MC makes are split between the pair of them:

Ayla has pacts with Mammon, Beelzebub, & (eventually) Belphegor; while Xhura has pacts with Leviathan, Asmodeus, Satan, & (eventually) Lucifer & Barbatos

after Xhura's pact with Asmodeus is made, Belphie reveals to Ayla that — though he has no idea why — he can feel the shared energy between the duo's pacts, & knows that as long as they have all 6 pacts shared between them that will be enough to free him. this is later revealed to be because Xhura & Ayla are both from Lilith's bloodline

in lieu of a pact with Lucifer, it's the duo's shared magics tying the pacts together that creates the final key for Belphie to be released from the attic

& it all goes tits up from there

but in terms of trust Xhura literally becomes the eighth brother; not just in spirit but in title granted by the House of Lords themselves. he trusts his brothers (& his brother-husband but we gloss over that little detail) with his life, & they trust him just the same. since he does eventually become a fully fledged demon that's really the only reason he doesn't end up making pacts with the rest

& also feel free to keep asking this shit is giving me lifeeee~

[silverfoxstole]

Not been tagged; pinched from @sanguinarysanguinity

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Forty-eight. But I have a lot more fic on other archives, such as Ff.net and a Teaspoon and an Open Mind.

2. What's your total AO3 wordcount?

1,075,804

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I don’t write for all of them at the same time, but I have over the years written fic for Doctor Who, Hornblower, Sherlock Holmes and Phantom of the Opera.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Shafts of Light (160, Phantom of the Opera)

TLC (106, Doctor Who)

Despatches (100, Hornblower)

Blood on the Snow (99, Phantom of the Opera)

Here Comes The Rain Again (91, Phantom of the Opera)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes; if someone has taken the time to comment it’s only polite to acknowledge it, though sometimes it takes me a while to work out what to say.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Possibly Hello, Goodbye. The Eighth Doctor briefly escapes the Time War when the TARDIS leaves him in San Francisco with Grace, but they both know he has to go back.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Define a happy ending. A lot of my stuff is missing scenes and what ifs; I tend to leave things hanging on an upbeat note or with a lead-in to something else.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not so far, thank goodness.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

No. Suggestiveness on occasion, but nothing more.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Sometimes, though I don’t think I’ve ever written one I’d call crazy. I’ve crossed Doctor Who with Hornblower a couple of times for logical reasons (Paul McGann having been in both), and also with Sherlock Holmes, Ashes to Ashes and Phantom of the Opera. Let’s face it, you can cross Doctor Who with anything! I did once have Sherlock Holmes turn up in Sarah’s attic in The Sarah Jane Adventures as well.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not as far as I’m aware, no.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not to my knowledge.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Never. I’m honestly not sure I could work with someone else.

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

I don’t have one.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I don’t have what I’d call WIPs that I work on for a long time as I invariably finish one thing before I start the next. I’ve got a lot of odd scenes and aborted drafts but that’s all they are; they’re unlikely to ever be worked into anything more as I’ve either run out of steam or changed tack completely.

16. What are your writing strengths?

A good grasp of grammar so I’m told, dialogue, and also apparently a decent ear for voices.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Repetition of the same phrases from one fic to another, the occasional tortuous sentence and I do lack the desire to take risks. Also plotting; I usually only have a vague idea of where I’m going and rarely write anything down so when I write longer fic I’m always flying by the seat of my pants.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I try to avoid it if I can as it would involve using Google translate and that’s never a good idea.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Doctor Who, online at least. And I’m still doing it 20 years later!

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

I honestly don’t think I could choose. It varies all the time.